#mechanics daughter!reader ✮

[anglbunny]

ᝰ.ᐟMechanic's daughter!Reader .ᐟ street racer au

"𝐼 𝑑���𝑛'𝑡 𝑤𝑎𝑛𝑛𝑎 𝑙𝑜𝑠𝑒 𝑚𝑦 𝑠𝑝𝑜𝑡" - 𝑖𝑠 𝑡ℎ𝑒𝑟𝑒 𝑠𝑜𝑚𝑒𝑜𝑛𝑒 𝑒𝑙𝑠𝑒 𝑏𝑦 𝑡ℎ𝑒 𝑤𝑒𝑒𝑘𝑛𝑑

ᯓ★ᯓ⚡︎

.ᐟMechanic's daughter!Reader...You were raised in the heart of the pit lanes. While other kids were learning to ride bikes, you were learning the difference between a turbocharger and a supercharger. Your father? Ego Jinpachi: legendary, cutthroat, and the ruler of the underground street racing scene. He builds the fastest machines and runs the dirtiest events. His daughter, you, are the only one allowed in his private workshop. You’re his legacy, even if he’ll never say it out loud. And while you don’t race (yet), you know every car like the back of your hand.

.ᐟMechanic's daughter!Reader...Fiercely independent, sharp-tongued, and always three steps ahead. You’ve got the sharp eye of a tactician and the hands of a born mechanic. You might wear gloss and eyeliner, but your fingers are just as likely to be stained with grease as they are with highlighter. Most people assume you’re off-limits—untouchable because of who your father is. And they’re not wrong. You don’t take shit, don’t trust easily, and you don’t hand out your loyalty like candy. But for those who get past the armor? You’re ride-or-die. Loyal, intense, and a little dangerous in your own right.

.ᐟMechanic's daughter!Reader...Everyone knows Ego’s daughter. You’re either a myth or a warning, depending on who’s asking. Some say you’re the real mind behind some of the wildest event setups in the Tokyo circuits—coordinating who gets to race, who gets banned, and how much chaos is allowed on the track. Others know you as the girl who can rebuild an engine faster than most seasoned pit crews. A few racers tried to flirt. Most of them ended up humiliated or nursing a bruised ego.

.ᐟMechanic's daughter!Reader... You’ve got that mechanic-girl-meets-underground-royalty vibe. Denim shorts, racer jackets, and crop tops stained with oil. Combat boots that kick harder than your attitude. You’re pretty, but not in the soft way—your beauty has edge. It’s in the curve of your smirk, the grease under your nails, the chain necklace you always wear. And when you lean under a hood or slide into the passenger seat of a car that growls like a beast, you own every gaze in the garage.

.ᐟMechanic's daughter!Reader...Your father raised you like he raised machines: precise, resilient, and built for high speeds. He’s strict, no doubt, and not always warm, but he trusts you. You’re the only one allowed into his sacred workspace without knocking. He doesn’t say it, but he knows the world is watching you like they watch him—and he’s proud that no one’s been able to tame you.

Tl;DR

Often found in crop tops, grease-stained jeans, combat boots, and a wrench tucked in your back pocket like a blade.

Knows exactly how to get under a racer’s skin—especially cocky ones.

Loyal to the bone, but hard to earn her trust.

Has secret access to race blueprints, route sabotage, and car specs—thanks to Daddy Ego’s files.

Everyone wants her hands on their engine, but she only works on cars that interest her… or people that challenge her.

RUMOURS ABOUT YOU

“She rewired Shidou’s ECU in under 2 minutes without blinking.”

“She once slapped Karasu with an oil rag and made him say thank you.”

“Kaiser offered her $500K to work on his car—she laughed in his face.”

“Someone touched her ass at a meet—he doesn’t race anymore.”

❝Bachira? She’s the only one who’s ever made him hesitate.❞

𝑠𝑡𝑜𝑟𝑖𝑒𝑠 𝑤𝑖𝑡ℎ 𝑚𝑒𝑐ℎ𝑎𝑛𝑖𝑐'𝑠 𝑑𝑎𝑢𝑔ℎ𝑡𝑒𝑟!𝑟𝑒𝑎𝑑𝑒𝑟

♡. crash course in chaos - shidou

♡...

♡...

♡...

ꨄ︎Anglbunny | Do not copy, steal or translate my work and pngs. you'll be blocked.

[M.list] [Navigation] [street racer!AU]

[aliyahwritings]

MECHANIC!RAFE & BOSS' DAUGHTER!READER

masterlist.

MECHANIC!RAFE... has been in love with you since you were kids. He’d watch you from afar, telling Topper and Kelce with unwavering conviction that he’d marry you one day. They’d laugh in his face, but Rafe wasn’t joking—not for a second.

MECHANIC!RAFE... started working for your dad at the garage when he was just fourteen, helping his family make ends meet. Though his love for mechanics runs deep, he can’t help but steal glimpses of you from the window above. He knows your routine by heart—the way you blast music and dance when you think no one’s watching, the intense focus you have while studying, and the cute frown you make when you're deep in thought. His favorite moments? When you come downstairs to talk to your dad and pointedly ignore him, like he doesn’t even exist.

BOSS' DAUGHTER!READER... pretends to be annoyed by him because you love watching him try so hard to get your attention. There’s a thrill in the tension between you, and you thrive on it. Secretly, though, you have a crush on him—but you’d never admit it. If your dad found out, Rafe would be out of a job, and you can’t let that happen.

MECHANIC!RAFE... who drops everything when Barry calls, saying his girl—you—are getting way too drunk at a party. He doesn’t hesitate. He jumps in his car and heads straight there. It doesn’t take long to find you, swaying unsteadily with a drink in hand. Softly, he tells you it’s time to go home. You protest, whining about wanting to stay, but Rafe isn’t having it. Without a word, he lifts you into his arms, holding you like you’re the most precious thing in the world, and carries you to his car.

MECHANIC!RAFE... who always had your back—even sneaking you into your room without your parents catching on.

When you both turned 18, MECHANIC!RAFE finally mustered the courage to ask you out. Of course, you said yes, and the very next day, you were buzzing with excitement as you got ready for your first date. He surprised you with a fancy restaurant, insisting on covering the bill despite your protests. The entire evening, Rafe was effortlessly charming, his romantic side on full display.

MECHANIC!RAFE... drove you home, you couldn’t stop thanking him for such a perfect night. But as you stood there under the soft glow of the moonlight, Rafe wasn’t listening—he was too captivated by how breathtaking you looked. 

MECHANIC!RAFE... leaned in and kissed you.

A year later, and BOSS' DAUGHTER!READER is now his girlfriend… but in secret. You’re hiding your relationship from your father, sneaking into the garage during breaks to steal moments together. Sometimes, it’s just to talk. Other times, it’s for a quickie with your boyfriend.

It’s risky, but neither of you can stay away. Every glance, every touch, every whispered word between oil-stained tools and the scent of gasoline only fuels the fire.

MECHANIC!RAFE... is always teasing, smirking at the way you try to keep your composure. “Careful, princess. Don’t want Daddy walking in on us, do you?” he’d say, his hands brushing against your waist as he pulls you closer.

But it’s not just the physical moments that keep you tied to MECHANIC!RAFE. It’s the way he remembers all the little things about you, like how you like your coffee or the song that always gets stuck in your head. It’s the way he works tirelessly at the garage, all grease and grit, yet somehow finds the time to make you feel like the only thing that matters.

Still, the secrecy wears on you both. There are nights when you lie awake, wondering how long you can keep this up. MECHANIC!RAFE always reassures you, his voice low and steady. “We’ll figure it out,” he promises, his rough hands brushing against your cheek. “I’m not losing you, no matter what.”

For now, you live for the stolen moments—his heated kisses, his playful smirks, and the way he looks at you like you’re his whole world, even when the rest of it is trying to pull you apart.

INFO ABOUT UPDATES: if you want to be notified about all my fics and updates, follow @aliyahwritings-notifs and turn on notifications!!!

[ghiblinsm]

Objective 1: Make Anya's lock

Mouthwashing x Jimmy's Daughter! Reader

part 1-ish?

word count: 2,526 words and 13,690 characters

"Reality, such a strange thing to me,"

warning: jingle bob, reader is morally grey but not in a pussy curly way, you may end up hating her depending who your favorite character is.

You jerk awake look over to see Curly heaving and groaning in agony, thrashing as much as he can with...well with his situation. His pained sounds are like nails on chalkboard as you walk over to the small pile of pain killers on the table grabbing one and stepping towards Curly.

"Ok Grant, open wide..." The grossest part is having to touch his nasty jaw to open it wide enough for him to take the pills. Popping one in and closing it back up as shiver crawl up your spine from the sound of his swallowing. "eugh.."

You sit down on a spinning chair near Curly and rest your head on your hand, needing to wait for him to stop heaving and thrashing to know if the pain killer worked, again. God... He smells like shit, guess that's what would happen though if one were practically skinned and lost four limbs and couldn't shower.

He finally stops thrashing and his heart rate returns to normal, his staring problem hasn't been fixed though, his singular eye staring intensely at you and your permanent scowl which deepens as he continues to stare. You stand up and kick the chair away while maintaining eye contact with Curly's eye.

"...What? What'd you want?" His staring continues as his mouth breathing seems to be getting louder and more unbearable. "well?! Speak up!"

"The voices in my head,"

You look at him then to the table and back at him, sighing in frustration as your fist clench. It would be dumb to get mad at him for doing the only thing he can do, stare.

"Whatever," you finally turn to leave as his eye follows your movement, "Anya will come by later, have fun till then I guess."

The door closes behind your retreating figure with Curly still looking in your direction.

You walk past Anya and Swansea talking about Curly and Repairs or something, and head to the main area, where Daisuke is sitting down by the big screen that's displaying a sunset into water and playing on the small console you made a while back with only a singular pixelated game that crashes if the smallest thing goes wrong.

You could care less where he is so that doesn't matter right now.

Despite clearly seeing what Daisuke is doing you still ask, "Hey, Daisuke. What-um whatchu up to?.."

"My friends from my dreams,"

"Hey! Yeah, I'm just trying to get passed this level but it keeps crashing..." He looks a bit slump but hopeful as the game crashes again from one of his choices. "But I swear I'm gonna get it this time!-"

"uhuh, thats nice. Hey, when you were with Swansea earlier, did you guys find any extra parts that weren't needed for the ship to function?..." you lean against the wall to try and seem as if you don't care what the answer is but truthfully...you really need a few parts, to create at least one lock.

Daisuke looks at you for a moment, as if contemplating whether to tell you or not. On one hand, Swansea had told him not to give you any extra parts anymore because quote, 'who knows what she's doing with those parts', but on the other hand you haven't done anything weird with scraps yet...

"Nah, we didn't find anything, are you trying to make something?" Maybe if he knows what you're trying to make, then Swansea will let him give stuff to you!

"Nothing, nothing...was just wondering, don't worry about it i'll- i'll figure something out," you head to the door to leave the main area barely muttering a goodbye.

"Bye?..huh" Daisuke watches as you leave then focuses back on the botched console.

"They whisper to me,"

You mindlessly roam through the empty halls, deep in thought but not thinking of anything in particular. Then suddenly, out of nowhere, you hear this agitating, grating voice from this greasy haired, internalized homo bitch.

"And what are you doing?" you sigh out in annoyance at the slight accusatory tone in his voice.

"The devil's on my shoulder.."

You look up at his face, his brows furrowed but his eye's show irritation. "Nothing, Captain." you learned pretty quickly, after he appointed himself Captain, that for him to leave you alone most of the time, just fuel his ego to be better than Grant.

"Have you made what I asked for yet?" Right...his 'need' for a master key to the rooms that can lock.

"No, I haven't gotten to it." And even if you had the materials, his key wouldn't exactly be a priority.

"And why haven't you gotten to it?" Ugh, the piss baby's getting upset.

"I haven't gotten to it because there hasn't been as many free materials for me to use." Before he speaks you continue, "And even if I had the materials, Anya was the first to start bitching to me about something she needs."

That grabs his attention, what would Anya need? Before you can leave, he grabs your shoulder and turns you back around to face him. "What exactly did Anya say she needed?" his eyes with a sort of craze look.

"How the hell should I know? I told her not to bother me until i've got materials, which seem to be nonexistent anymore on this barren ship." Thats a lie, you know exactly what she wants and why, but you hate Jimmy more then you dislike Anya so why would you tell him?

He stares intently into your eyes, like he's trying to detect if you're lying or not. "You better not be lying."

"I'm not, she's only priority because I had her save her spot by trading me a few pills..." God, when is he going to leave you alone.

He finally backs up and walks away, purposefully knocking into your shoulder to make you stumble.

"But I like the way he sings,"

With a small, irritated smirk, you try to find Swansea. Considering the state of the ship, it's hard to believe that they truly haven't found any scraps you can use.

You find Daisuke and Swansea in a storage room, Daisuke halfway inside a vent and Swansea watching from below, holding the ladder and instructing Daisuke on what to do.

"Hey, Swansea?" He barely jerks in surprise but turns his head to look in your direction, still keeping a grip on the ladder Daisuke's on.

"What do you need?" His gruff, slight accented voice sounds tired...whatever anyway.

"Have y'all found any scraps? Anya has a request for me and I don't have any materials." You know Swansea knows that something happened to Anya, just not exactly what happened, so hopefully he'll give you something.

He contemplates for a bit, likely debating the pros and cons if you're lying. There's silence apart from Daisuke yelping from almost shocking himself which snaps Swansea back.

He's sighs and nods to his left, a pile of scraps that they did indeed find. "it's over there."

"Great, thanks.." Daisuke almost slips off the ladder from the tone of your voice, knowing his lost aura points with you and most definitely fumbled from lying earlier.

"Love me endlessly,"

You grab all the scraps, using your uniform jacket as a bag of sorts to carry the metal and frayed wires.

Once you leave the room Daisuke peek down the vent to look down at Swansea and whines. "You made me fumble the huzzzz."

Swansea looks at him with a confused look, "I made you fumbled the, what the fuck?"

Anya was in the medical room watching over Curly when you come walking in with the scrap, a few tools, and the pills she traded you for the lock.

Anya looks up at you from beside Curly with her half lidded, very much tired, eyes. They widen with some kind of hope at the sight of your splayed-out scrap and tools on the only table in the room.

"What kind of lock do you want?" You get some water from the sink to take one of the pills which will hopefully kick in before you start working so you focus better.

"Um, I guess any that can lock from inside the room." Anya's obviously apprehensive, not to blame her, it's not exactly reassuring to have someone on drugs, making a safety lock that supposed to be a secret from the captain whom she is also related to.

She receives a hum from you then turns back to Curly, surprised at the slight rise in his heart beats per minutes. She stands and walks over to the pile of pain killers. "How long has it been since you gave him his medicine?"

You look up from your botched looking layout to Anya, "what time is it now?"

"And when I wake, have my soul to keep,"

She groans and grabs about 2-3 pills and walks back to Curly but hesitates to touch his jaw, quietly gagging. Annoyed at her for taking so long and acting like a baby you get up from where you were sitting and walk over, "I got it, just don't throw up in here."

She rushes out the room with a trashcan, leaving you to once again touch Curly's buck nasty bloody, burnt, bandaged jaw.

After giving him his medicine, and Anya has yet to return, probably yakking her guts out. The drugs start kicking in and well, the thin filter you had sorta slips as you get to making Anya's lock.

"This was your fault, know," Curly's one eye looks over at you as you talk to him, "you were the one to enable him," you turn in the spinning chair to face his direction but not looking up from a stubborn sheet of metal that won't bend correctly.

"I may have known what he did, but Anya didn't tell me, she told you, and you barely believed her until you saw him having a pussy breakdown in the halls." You look up from finally getting the metal into the right shape and see Curly staring at you with a shaky chest.

"You're worse than me." He sees your dilated pupils before you turn your back to him again as Anya enters.

"Desperately, they beg me not to leave,"

"Hey, Anya?" She turns to see you holding a few weird mashed pieces.

"Hm?"

"Where do you this to be placed?" Oh! oh... that- that does not look like it'll keep her sleeping quarters locked...

"Uh, yeah, just over here." She walks you over to her sleeping quarters and opens the door. Turning once you got inside and points to a spot on the door frame. "Can it be placed here?"

"Yeah, I guess," you grab a soldering gun to attach it to the frame, "here's the key," your hand pulls out a small key from your pocket with your other holding the soldering gun. "DON'T LOSE IT, I don't have enough materials to create another one."

"Okay, thank you." There's a hint of gratitude in her tone as she grabs the key and leaves her sleeping quarters.

"The fire in my eyes,"

You easily attach the new lock onto the door and frame and make sure it's not loose or anything, otherwise some people may be able to break in. It's still weird that the sleeping quarters don't have locks but at least you can actually add them now without getting credits docked, considering pony express, dumb name btw, went bankrupt.

You leave her room and see Daisuke trying to act nonchalant and leaning on a wall nearby...he's not subtle in his motives with the way his eyes rapidly glance at you to see if you're looking. looking at the look then back at him you get an idea.

"Hey, Daisuke?" you're surprised at how fast his head turns to you with the most...irritating small smile rather than his usual, goofy, big one. "Can you help me test out this lock?"

He tries to cooly stride over but stumbles over a few dead wires and then just walks over. "Yeah! totally, what do I need to do?"

"Go into Anya's room, lock the new lock on her door, there should be a latch option.., and tell me when so I'll try to barge in. Tell me if the lock loosens or twitches or something." you make sure to explain in the simplest way possible, so Daisuke understands.

"Got it!" He enters the Anya's room and you hear a fumble of a switch, another sound of a switch, the jingle of the lock, and then the latch.

"is burning at my feet,"

A heavy sigh leaves from you as he probably thought something else was the lock, something turned on, so he turned it off, looked at the keyhole of the lock then finally saw the latch. "Ready!"

You back up a bit then throw yourself into the door, repeating a few times till getting an answer from Daisuke, a very scared Daisuke who genuinely felt a tad afraid from the aggressiveness of the shoves into the door, like you actually were trying to break it down instead of checking the lock.

He comes out a bit shaken but acts really tough, "Didn't even move an inch," he seems a bit proud until...

"You or the lock?" you snicker at his faux offended look on his face.

"For your information, the lock did infact stay put and so did I." He crosses his arms proudly but melts when he hears your words.

"Mhm, you were a very brave baby." you said it jokingly, obviously, so he quickly regains his composure once he realized.

"miles away from his life,"

You bend down to grab your tools as Daisuke seems to want to ask you something but is hesitant to. "He-Hey? do you want to come to my-"

Here comes the father-in-law, the fun crusher, the erratic homo, Jimmy. "What's going on here?"

Daisuke stifles a snicker at the sight of you rolling your eyes as you turn towards Jimmy's direction. "Nothing, I was talking with Daisuke about dumb stuff."

Seems like he grew something down there since he starts demanding shit you definitely ain't gonna follow. "Listen, I am the captain now and my key should be made first, it should be top priority!-"

Shaking your head you cut him off, "Yeah, yeah, you're right, once I get the materials, I'll get started on your key right away." a big fat lie since you definitely won't be working on it anytime soon, it'd be a waste of time and a waste of material. It's better to just put it off and say stuff to make him happy.

"without his love i'm not alright,"

"You better.." wow. . . so ominous and scary better get to work on that key card right away!

"Don't worry your pretty lil head, okay Jimmy? I've got it, you just go do your important little captain things, okay?" you gently start pushing him back towards the cockpit till he eventually grumbles and walks away.

You turn towards Daisuke, "Get a load of this guy." pointing your thumb back at Jimmy's retreating figure. Daisuke bursts into laughter(calm down it ain't that funny) and you two head to the main area.

Objective completed:

Anya will remember your generosity.

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Curly's relationship with you:❤️❤️

Becoming strained as your rambles become more personal and targeted.

Anya's relationship with you:💜💜💜

She trusts you enough and doesnt hate you but can't help but feel uneasy around because of yimpy.

Swansea's relationship with you:🧡🧡🧡

Doesn't hate you but because of your relationship to Jimmy he doesn't always trust you to give you scraps.

Daisukes relationship with you:💛💛💛💛

He's glad to have someone near his age to talk to and hang with that knows what references he makes, his heart beat raises when you two talk.

Jimmy's relationship with you:💙

Very strained from y'all's relationship, he didn't exactly raise you, was only obligated to give you shelter when your mom died, but when you were 18 you moved away and y'all only met again 2 years ago when his was 'introduced' to you from Curly before a shipment trip.

A/N: i feel like daisuke is the most out of character, oof.. but yay! first mouthwashing fic!

[gojosoups]

Whatever Happens, Happens ── series masterlist

gojo satoru x reader | modern au, 18+

ღ summary: Your sister was a bitch, the biggest bitch, for taking almost everything from the divorce settlement and full custody of her kid. You could never say anything though, because your parents always said family is everything. But that didn't stop you from falling into a rhythm with her ex-husband. That didn’t stop you from helping him quit his smoking addiction and taking care of his daughter from his first marriage—your niece—who would rather call you "mom" than "auntie."

ღ pairing: sister's ex-husband! dilf! gojo satoru x reader

ღ warnings/tags: 18+, fluff, angst, smut, modern au, female reader, age gap (reader is in early 20’s, gojo is in late 20’s), friends to lovers, single dad gojo, divorced gojo, jealousy, pining, insecurity, use of alcohol and weed, use of vulgar language, gojo develops a smoking addiction, unhealthy coping mechanism, eventual romance, family drama, family dynamics, reader's sister is problematic, reader is the younger sister and the coolest aunt ever

ღ taglist: open

a/n: art credits to @3-aem on Tumblr, @_3aem on Twitter and Instagram

𝐀𝐋𝐋 𝐑𝐈𝐆𝐇𝐓𝐒 𝐑𝐄𝐒𝐄𝐑𝐕𝐄𝐃 © 𝟐𝟎𝟐𝟒 𝐆𝐎𝐉𝐎𝐒𝐎𝐔𝐏𝐒 — do not copy, translate, repost or modify my works on any platform.

[sunflowerwinds]

wine & dine | s.a

summary: sevika has been working at your father’s auto-body shop for the past two years and has never given you the time of day. valentine’s rolls around and she finally lets out what she’s been holding in from the moment you two met.

pairing: sevika arcane x fem!reader

contains: modern!au, dad’s bestfriend! sevika (not really, more like coworker), age gap (reader is 22 and sevika is 39), alcohol consumption (they’re both slightly tipsy but both conscious enough for consent), sevika has no prosthetic, sevika is kind of a loser but we love it, smut: whiny!sevika, fingering (r!recieving), oral (r! receiving), r!squirting for the first time, aftercare!! (it’s important). (18+ —MINORS & MEN DO NOT TRY IT.), reader grows more confident with sevika!

word count: 6.3K

a/n: ENJOYYYY<3 a treat for you guys! happy (very late) valentine’s to my single angels bc yall deserve love too! art creds: @anodeorain!!! (SPECIAL THANKS TO @atomicami FOR READING THIS OVER TO MAKE SURE IT WAS GOOD ENOUGH TO POST. ily cami girl <3)

You were twenty when you were first introduced to Sevika.

Your father owned an auto body shop and she was a new hire. Most days, you would sit in his office when you were off your shift at your place of work – a local Tea House – and do your online classwork. None of the men ever dared to bother you considering how protective he was over you so you had headphones in your ears to block out any mechanical sounds and to give yourself some peace as you worked hard to get your assignments done, taking sips of your boba tea that you had taken with you.

The door opened as you were in the middle of sipping your drink as you were met with her. Your eyes bulged out of your head at the sight of a 6'1, olive skinned, deliciously ripped and slightly glistening woman stepping into the carpeted office. Her upper body was clung with an oil and sweat stained white wife pleaser and low-rise work jeans with a chunky black belt holding them up.

You suck in a quick breath to try and act like you were unfazed by it but had forgotten you had the thick straw from your tea in your mom. A few tapioca balls shot into the back of your throat causing you to choke and cough loudly. The woman’s grey eyes widened at the sound of your gargled noises as she rushed around the table to pat your upper back.

You tried to ignore how large her palm was on your body and attempted to take another sip of your drink, lifting the straw up a bit so that you wouldn’t get any more tapioca.

“You okay?” She asks you softly, the rumble in your deeper voice sending a chill down your spine.

Fuck, you had thought to yourself. Her voice just matches how fucking hot she is.

“Fine,” you were able to cough out, trying to suppress them. “Choked on my, uh, drink.”

The woman chuckled lowly at you, shaking her head before standing upright once again.

“I’ve never seen you before,” she stated as she folds her large toned forearms across her oil stained wife pleaser. “What’s your name?”

You uttered your name to her as you stared up at her, loving the angle you were getting from where you were sitting. The second your name left your lips, her eyes widened in a way that gave away she had heard about you from your father or the other employees. You quickly asked for hers out of courtesy to try and distract her from it but it was useless.

“Sevika. You mean you’re–”

“Yeah, big boss’s daughter,” you tilted your head up at her with a playful smile. “Did you need something?”

Sevika had blinked down at you before nodding hesitantly as she had forgotten the whole reason she had come into the office.

“I just needed to grab my water from the fridge,” she said with certainty as she made her way over to the large black coated refrigerator and tugged the door open.

When she had turned her back to you to bend over to search for her reusable steel water bottle, you silently thanked your dad for finally hiring probably one of the sexiest women you’ve ever laid your eyes on. You pretended to tend to your school work on your laptop as she stood back up, twisting open the lid and tilting it up to allow the water to flow down her throat.

You mindlessly typed as you watched and savored the sight of a few droplets leaving the sides of her mouth as she chugged the ice-cold water. Her shirt lifted ever so slightly to tease you with her v-line and faint happy trail. You felt like a man seeing ankles for the first time in the early 1900s.

After that day, you started showing up alot more to the shop. Your father questioned the schedule change but simply told him that you were able to ‘focus’ in his office.

This went on for two years. Two damn years of you coming to the shop to study and Sevika had only given you a few glances and gentle check ups on you when she went in the office. Normal and professional conversation and you were tired of it.

Tired of pretending like you weren’t desperate for her attention, for her. You tried to distract yourself from the yearning and had a few flings. They were… nice as that but in the back of your mind, she lingered. Maybe she wasn’t into younger women. You knew she had to be at least ten years older than you so that could be a factor in her not even giving you a second thought.

Or so you’d thought.

Valentine’s Day had rolled around and you had zero plans. Your best friend was out of town with their girlfriend so your plans were pretty much shot. You decided that you might as well get some work done at the shop like usual. At first you had lied about you focusing better on your father but now you actually can’t seem to mentally lock in on your school work anywhere else.

It was pretty empty as you passed through the garage. You could hear some gears turning and clanking so you peaked around to see who was there. Just your luck, it was Sevika.

Great. She made you feel more single than ever on this day.

You tried to speed past her in hopes she wouldn’t notice you but to your surprise, she called out your name. You stop in your tracks at her voice, sighing to yourself as you turn your head so that you are facing her.

Her brows were set in a furrow as she wiped off her rust ridden palms, looking you up and down with confusion.

“Just came to do school work, Sevika. Don’t mind me,” you raise your palm to wave her off. “You can go back to… whatever you’re doing.”

You guess your tone gave away your bad attitude as she sighs, throwing the towel over her bare shoulder and making her around the truck. You tense up as you adjust the strap to your book bag, now aware she could see all of you.

“What’s up, angel? Hmm?” Sevika leans back on the maroon, rusted door.

“Nothing.”

You ignore the heat that’s itching at your cheeks at her nickname for you. It was rare when she pulled that one out considering how little conversation the two of you shared.

“Nothing. Today is– it’s not my day,” you explain.

Her expression softens as she looks behind her at the calendar that was hanging amongst the tools on that wall. It’s Valentine’s Day, Sevika thought to herself.

“Why isn’t your day?” She wonders aloud.

You sigh as you shake your head, wanting to crawl into yourself to avoid this conversation.

“I don’t know. Just even more of a reminder I don’t have… what other people have.”

And that I could be spending this day with you but the universe decided to birth me out fifteen years too late, you think to yourself.

Sevika is silent after those words leave your mouth, shame flooding your veins. You scoff as you adjust the strap of your bag to start making your way into the office but Sevika’s voice calls out to you once again.

“Do you want to come over to mine tonight?”

You froze.

What?

As you turn around on your heels and inch closer to her, eager for an answer: “To do…?”

Sevika chuckles as she leans into you with a smile, her lips two inches from your own. “Valentine’s dinner. I’m a great cook, angel.”

You really were confused now. Why was she offering you this? Was this a pity dinner?

“Why?”

She sighs at your tone and lifts a hand to cup your face, a rough thumb brushing over the apple of your cheek. With any one else you would’ve flinched away and refused but even with how much you hated her for never giving you the time of day before, your body aches for this. For her touch.

“I don’t like knowing you, of all people, are going to be alone on this day. Let me do this for you, okay?”

You of all people. You despised how much that made you want to shove her against the car and kiss her until she was breathless. You stupidly blush at her words, failing to hide how flustered she made you.

“Okay, fine. What’s the dress code?”

Sevika can’t help but have her lips twitch up into an amused grin, releasing your face in the process.

“No dress code. Come in whatever you feel comfortable in, angel.” She reassures you, nodding as she throws her rag over her shoulder. “Give me your number and I’ll text it to you.”

You blink at her as you realized how in all these two years of knowing her you hadn’t had a good enough reason to have her phone number. You reach into your bag to rip a piece of paper from one of your notebooks and grab a loose pen that was sitting at the bottom to scribble down your number and hand it to her.

“What time should I be there?” You wonder, fiddling with your backpack.

Sevika hums as she checks her watch on her wrist. “It’s 3 right now. I’m almost done here with my truck. 8:30 okay with you?”

You nod, unable to comprehend how this was your reality right now.

“Y-Yeah. That’s good. I’ll leave you to your… handy work,” you try and joke but your awkwardness deceives you.

Sevika thankfully grins at your attempt and shakes her head fondly, motioning to the office.

“Be good and do your work, yeah?”

Your face lit aflame once again, nodding before walking away without another word.

How the hell were you going to survive dinner?

You left the shop only an hour later after you had heard the large garage doors shut. Once you had gotten home, you passed by your dad in the kitchen eating some lunch. He told you that he and your mother were going to dinner and would be late so that you could order in or if you had wanted anything from wherever they were going to eat.

You almost told him you had dinner plans as well but you didn’t want to risk more prying questions so you merely wished them a good night and dinner before scurrying up to your room. You dug through your closet to find something; anything that would be dinner worthy at Sevika’s place.

For the next three hours, you carefully picked out the right dress, the right makeup, shoes, jewelry, purse, panties for fucks sake. Your parents had thankfully left already so they wouldn’t press you as to why you were all ‘done up’.

The whole drive to Sevika’s house was a mental rollercoaster. Talking yourself into not causing five accidents by swerving into a u-turn back home or cancelling out of fear that you’ll be unbearably awkward. Every worst possible outcome you could have imagined flashed into your mind but you scolded yourself into taking a deep breath.

She asked you to dinner, you told yourself. On the most ‘romantic’ day of the year.

It had to mean something.

When you approached the house, you could see if you squinted, Sevika’s figure moving through the orange light through the curtains of the home. It was a small, cozy home. Nothing too crazy or expensive but homey.

Your fiddle with your necklace as you ring the doorbell, sucking in a deep breath as you listen to the heavy footsteps approaching the door. The clicks of the locks send an anxious chill down your spine as the hinges creak open.

Sevika looked perfect. She had on a black button up tucked into a pair of the same shade of slacks, a thick belt holding them up. The sleeves were rolled to her elbows and the top two buttons were left undone to show just the smallest bit of skin. Her hair was tied up in it’s usual half-up, half-down that you’ve seen but she just made it work.

“Hi,” she says softly, a gentle smile on her face. “Come in.”

You couldn’t tell if you were a puddle on the floor or if it was just your insides that had turned to mush. Your fingers tighten on your small velvet purse as you finally open your mouth.

“Hi.”

You take a step into the home and are immediately hit with the smell of marinara sauce and garlic. Your eyes dart from the worn in living room couch to the little bit of decor on the shelves before they land on Sevika who was lingering near the now-shut front door. Her gray eyes meet yours as she motions towards your dress with her large palm.

“You are beautiful, angel.”

You look down at your dress, too, admiring the black lace pattern over the garnet red silk. Your eyes meet hers once again as you take a step forward, daring for her to reach for you.

“Thank you. You are beautiful, Sevika.”

Her eyes seem to soften at your words, shining in a way that you’ve never seen before. Was she… flustered? After she muttered a shy ‘thank you’, her gaze darted to behind you as she motioned a hand to the rather cute set up of a dinner.

A small unscented candle was lit in the middle between two plates of a slice of lasagna and a smaller round plate with a garlic knot resting on it. It looked like restaurant grade food. You could even hear a soft tune of jazz lowly playing throughout the home.

“Sevika, this is so sweet,” you express as you approach the table.

“It’s nothing, really.”

Sevika’s heavy footsteps follow after you, reaching for the chair across from hers. She tugs the seat out and motions for you to sit.

“Such a gentleman,” you tease as you slide into the space and sit yourself down in the old wooden chair with a vintage flower cushion tied to the bottom.

The obvious tension in the air was killing you. It was clear neither of you knew how to start up a conversation so you took the reins as you picked up your fork and shoved it into the layered pasta.

“What was wrong with your truck?” You wince afterwards at the blandness of the question.

Sevika rounded the table after she scooted your chair in. She sits herself down across from you, picking up her own utensils.

“Oh, nothing too terrible. The brake pads needed to be replaced,” she shook her head to wave off your concern. “Did you finish your school wor—“

“Why did you ask me to dinner, Sevika?”

You didn’t mean to cut her off but this has been itching at you since it happened. Sure, she gave you a vague answer at the shop but you didn’t want vague bullshit. You’ve only been eating for a few minutes and the unknown was killing you.

“Honestly?” Sevika questions as she takes a bite of her lasagna, seeming all too calm for your liking.

You suck in a deep breath as you huff out a soft: “Please.”

“I’ve wanted to do this,” she motioned to the air between the two of you with her fork as she explained herself, “since we first met. Your dad and I have a good bond and I didn’t think he would approve of me of all people to take out his daughter, especially seeing how he acts when the other fuckin’ pricks at the shop even try to mention you in front of him.”

That made sense. You take another bite of the food, heat spreading from the base of your neck to the tips of your ears.

“Since we first met?” You question with a giddy grin.

Sevika playfully rolls her beautiful gray eyes at the fact that out of everything, that was the detail you were focused on.

“You’re ridiculous. Yes.”

“So what made you want to ask me now?” Your tone was more light and playful, feeling a lot more assured with this.

Sevika’s dark lips twitch into a small grin, shrugging her broad shoulders.

“I thought when you walked into the shop today that I would finally fuckin’ get over myself and just saying something to let you know I feel but I kind of got lucky it being Valentine’s and you not having plans so I took a chance. Thankfully, you said ‘yes’.”

Thankfully indeed, you thought to yourself.

“This is amazing, by the way. I can’t cook for the life of me.” You point to the warm lasagna, the flavors lingering on your tongue.

Sevika shakes her head with a low whistle at your confession. “22 and you can’t cook, angel?”

Your face heats up at her teasing, opening your mouth as you let out a soft gasp.

“I’m… working on it, okay? Plus, if all things go well tonight, I won’t have to anymore,” you hum as you tilt your head at her, testing the waters.

You watch her every movement as Sevika grabs her glass of wine to take a sip. The way her throat bobbed as she allowed the liquid to trickle down.

“Is that so?” She hums into her glass before setting it back down with a soft clink.

“If that’s okay with you,” you grin innocently.

Sevika’s eyes flicker down to your lips as you take your turn to try the wine. It was a sweeter white wine, the burn of the alcohol washing down your throat.

“More than okay,” she quietly admits as she continues to dig into the lasagna.

A large glass of sweet white wine and the hefty carb-filled meal later, you two talking quietly amongst one another on the couch. Well, okay, Sevika was talking while you were tilting your head as you eye-fucked her at the distance you’ve been craving for the past two years. Watching her dark lips move as she tells you something you were supposed to be listening to but god, you couldn’t focus on anything else but her lips.

The jagged, light scar that on the left side of her lip drove you wild. Maybe it was the wine or the few years of yearning but you were growing needier by the second. The soft hum and rasp of her voice was merely adding to the fire.

“Angel?”

She calls to you, confusion laced in her tone. You blink to focus and sit up from your slouched position, cursing internally at how you let your mind wander.

“Hmm? Yeah?” You hum, a smitten smile growing on your lips.

Her large palm reaches over to rest on her exposed thigh from the slit of your dress folding over, her thumb rubbing over the skin to try and ease you. Your eyes flicker down from her pinky to her thumb, breath hitching at how much of your thigh she was covering.

“Are you tired? You can sleep here. I don’t want you driving after you’ve had something to drink.”

You hold back your scoff as you shake your head as you look back up at her, sucking in a deep breath as you carefully scoot in closer to her. It wasn’t something you did often but it seemed like subtlety wasn’t working with her.

“I’m not tired, Vika,” you whisper, eyes darting down to her lips as you raise one hand to rest on her upper abdomen.

Sevika’s grip tightens on your skin, her breathing quickening at your hand placement. You could feel her stomach flex causing an excitement that you haven’t felt in a long time to rush to your head.

The air around you two was heavy, the both of you hesitant to take what you want. You internally frown when you feel Sevika’s heavy hand remove itself from your thigh. She twiddles with the fabric of the skirt of your dress, avoiding your gaze as she blatantly stares at your lips as her chest rises and falls at a faster speed now.

Fuck it.

You begin to lean into her, moving your hand slowly up her torso to rest on the open area at the top of her chest. Your hand rests at her collarbone as you tilt your head to the side as you press your lips onto hers. Sevika, as anxious as she was appearing, followed your movements in an instant. Her hand that had been tugging at your dress was now cupping the side of your neck, thumbing at your jaw.

You force back your giddy grin as you pull away to ghost your lips over hers, letting out a shaky breath as you make her chase you. Sevika’s hand moves back down to your crossed legs, gripping your thigh with need as she whines.

She fucking whimpers against your lips as she mutters your name. Not ‘angel’ but your name.

You hum at the sound, moving your hands to her shoulders as you throw legs over her lap to straddle her. Sevika hands fly to your waist as you attach your lips once again, running her hands up your body. Her tongue brushes over your bottom lip as your hips grind down on her.

She pants against you, pulling away from your wet lips to look down at her lap at your plush thighs to curse underneath her breath. The sight alone could have her cumming untouched.

“Vika, can we move to your bed? Please?”

Your neediness was obvious as your hands ran down her body, feeling the ridges of her sculpted body that you wanted to so desperately see. Your fingers reach up to her button-up, unhooking a single button as you lean down to kiss at her neck to inhale the perfume and light cigar scent clinging to her skin. “Need you.”

Sevika’s hands grip at your body and press you into her, a shiver running down her back as you nibble on her skin.

She breathes out as her eyes shut at your teeth grazing over the mark you sucked onto her sickness. “Yeah, baby. Come on.”

As she stands up, she hooks her strong forearms underneath your thighs so that your legs could wrap around her hips as she carries you to her bedroom. You couldn’t help but giggle at the fact that you were here at her house, going to her room so that you could fuck her.

“You smell good,” you hum as you snuggle your face into the crook of her neck, wrapping your arms around her neck.

Sevika chuckles underneath her breath at your dazed words as she places a kiss to your scalp as she kicks her door open with her foot, the golden knob tapping the wall with a soft thump. She carefully sets you down on the comforter with a soft grunt.

You look up at her from the bed, eyes blown with lust as you wait for her next move.

“If you want to stop at any moment,” Sevika cups the side of your face, a feeling you’ve grown quite fond of. “You tell me immediately, okay?”

“Sevika, I trust you,” you reassure her softly, sucking in a deep breath. “But I will. I promise.”

Sevika seems to relax a bit more now after you have assured her.

“Good. Now, lay back for me, baby.”

You do as you told and scoot back a bit more up the mattress, your dress bunching up at your hips. Sevika seems to notice how it was bothering you, taking the fabric into her hands gently. You make eye contact with her and nod to signal it was okay for her to take it off of you.

Sevika tugs it up to reveal your deep red panties, a wet maroon patch in the front. You would’ve been a lot more embarrassed but hearing Sevika muttering curses once the dress is off of you and hitting the hardwood floor of her bedroom, your confidence shot through the roof.

Your tits were exposed as you didn’t enjoy wearing bras with dresses like this so here you were, borderline naked on Sevika’s bed. God, you would have laughed in someone’s face if anyone told you you’d be here within two years of meeting Sevika.

“You are perfect, angel.”

Sevika kneels down on her bed, her eyes following over every inch of your skin as if you were a painting. To be admired, not touched. You mutter a soft ‘thank you’ at the compliment, feeling a heat prickle at your underarms.

“You can touch me, you know,” you tease.

This seems to bring Sevika back to the task at hand, nodding with a gentle ‘sorry’ leaving her lips. You shake your head as you were more than flattered that she thought you were beautiful enough to stare at. She leans down to kiss you slowly, pushing you back down onto the bed.

Her knee was pressing into your clothed cunt, the pressure directly being placed onto your aching clit. You let out a shaky breath at the feeling, your hands gripping onto her strong shoulders. Your hips roll a bit to chase the pleasure.

“Needy girl,” she hums against your lips.

She pulls away to trail her lips down your body. Each kiss that was left had you leaning into the touch, eyes fluttering as she moved to your nipples. Your bottom lip catches in between your teeth as she cups your left and runs her tongue over your right. She sucks on the sensitive bud, running her hot tongue over the pebbled skin.

You watch her with no shame, not even daring wanting to look away at the fucking wet dream that was happening in front of you. You could see a spit string glistening on your nipple to her panting lips due to the dim lighting of the room. She adjusts herself so that she can move to the other nipple, pressing her knee onto your cunt once again.

“Vika,” you whine out, begging for her to move further down your body to where you needed her most.

Sevika looks up from your chest, pupils blown to the point where the gray of her eyes was a small ring.

“Tell me.”

You grind into her knee as a response, hoping she would get the hint that you wanted more than just her mouth on your tits. Sevika looks down at your desperate grinding on her knee as your hands run down her back, tugging on the fabric of her black button up.

Sevika pulls away, licking up whatever leftover saliva was on your tits before unbuttoning her shirt. You help her as you start from the bottom, meeting her in the middle as her sculpted body reveals itself to you. You had been teased with the idea from the bottom of Sevika’s shirts lifting when she would stretch or reach for a tool on a higher shelf at your fathers shop but this? Seeing every defined ab and little light scars on her stomach. Your imagination couldn’t compare to the real thing.

You throw her shirt in the direction of your dress, eyeing every ridge of her stomach. She had on a simple black sports bra hugging her tits to her body. As you were checking her out, Sevika was running her hands down yours as she landed right at the waistband of your panties.

She looks up at you as her fingers hook underneath the lace, waiting for your approval. You nod eagerly, lifting your hips up in assistance. Sevika tugs them down, letting out a soft groan at the sight of your slick that collected on the front of your underwear.

Your cunt was wet and fluttering, awaiting for any kind relief. Sevika moves down the bed to lay down on her stomach as she hooks her arms around your thighs to tug you closer to her. You yelp quietly as her slight manhandling of you but is quickly replaced by a moan. Without warning, she sticks her tongue out to drag across your entrance once to get your attention.

Being the absolute tease she was, Sevika kisses right over your clit before trailing her lips to your inner thighs. Irritated, you clamp your thighs on either side of her face, raising your brows down at her. She sighs and tsks, easily gripping your legs to force them back open.

You really were underestimating how strong she was.

“Be patient, angel. I want your thighs on my head when I’m eating this pretty pussy, yeah? Can you do that for me?” She places one more soft kiss on your inner thigh.

All you could muster was a whiny ‘yeah’ in response to her question. She hums, satisfied enough with your answer before delving back into where you needed her most.

Sevika laps her greedy tongue over the dripping entrance of your pussy, hooded eyes watching your body convulse. You moan out as she uses her fingers to spread your lips open to watch your cunt clench hungrily.

“You taste so fucking perfect. Can’t believe I had to wait so long to taste you, angel,” she nearly whines before sucking on your pussy lips.

Her eager licks to your cunt drew you close to your first orgasm, legs clamping on either side of her head. Your hands slip into her hair, entangling in her black strands. Sevika is relentless with her tongue, not letting up until she can taste you cumming.

Your stomach tightens as you ride her arched nose as it hits your clit just right. Your moans change higher in pitch as you could feel your orgasm about to rip through you. You came embarrassingly fast, shivering and gripping onto her hair as her tongue laps up your cum leaking from your cunt.

“Fuck, oh my god,” you whimper as she wraps her arms around your thighs to tug you closer to help you ride out your orgasm.

Your chest rises and falls rapidly as you try to catch your breath, shuddering when you feel Sevika places a lingering kiss to your clit. She releases your legs to pull her head from your pussy, the top of her head frizzy from your hands and her flyaways clinging to her forehead from the sweat.

“What the fuck?” You pant, a hand resting over your eyes.

Sevika softly chuckles at your words, gently massaging one of your thighs with her free hand. You shiver as you feel one other thick and long fingers tease at your entrance. You buck your hips to urge her to put it inside of you. Sevika hums from above you as she steadily inserts her middle finger.

“You gonna give one more, baby?” She questions as she licks her lips to collect what was left of your slick on her mouth.

You sit up slightly to reach for her neck to pull her down to be face to face with you. Sevika’s lips lock with yours, humming softly as her hand that wasn’t fucking you cups the side of your head. You could taste the lingering cum on her lips as you kiss her softly.

“One more,” you whisper against her lips, pulling away to rest your forehead on hers.

“Just one more, angel,” she whispers back, attentively watching your face to make sure you weren’t hesitating and not telling her.

But all she could see was how blown out your eyes were as you grind your hips weakly on her fingers.

The lewd sound of the squelch of you taking her finger made her smile against your temple. You hum as you feel her leisurely slide her ring finger next to the pointer, soft pants leaving your mouth. Your body was hot all over, sweat gathering above your top lip, the back of your neck and the crook of your hips.

Sevika began to pump her fingers in and out of you, watching the way your pussy lips began to puff up and lather in a mixture of her spit and your slick. She couldn’t get enough of you, wanting to make you see stars from her fingers alone.

You were already out of it; in a daze that boosted her ego.

“Fuck, you look so pretty like this, angel,” she praises as she leans down to kiss your cheek.

“Feel pretty,” you hum, gasping when Sevika’s fingers curl inside of you.

Sevika captures your lips once again as she picks up the pace of her fingers, moaning into your mouth when she feels your gummy walls clenching down on her. You throw your head back at the relentless thrusts, exposing your neck for Sevika to mark up. She wasn’t a big hickey person but watching you let out the prettiest and whiniest moans, all she wanted to do was make sure everyone who would see you the next day that you were hers.

Her lips latch onto the length of your neck, sucking and licking on the skin.

“Right there, baby. O-Oh fuck,” you whine out, not realising the pet name had left your lips.

This encouraged Sevika’s movements. Someone would have to fucking kill her to stop making you come undone like this.

“Yeah?” She places a sloppy kiss to your jaw with a hum.

You shudder as she curls her fingers to hit your g-spot, abusing it with a hungry persistence.

“Y-Yeah.”

Your whole body had basically become jelly in her palms, overwhelmed by the way she was handling you. Borderline pornagraphic moans left your lips as she wouldn’t let up. You think you would start crying if she did, the pleasure already becoming an addictive feeling. You knew at that moment she had ruined you for anyone else; that nothing would be as good as her.

Again, that familiar feeling settled in your lower abdomen. You were going to cum again but it felt… different; more intense than the one before. Your hand flew to her wrist that was fucking into you, not trying to stop her but confused about how the fuck was she doing that.

“Sevika, I-I’m gonna–” Pee?

“I can feel it, angel. Just let go for me. Relax.”

You release her wrist as you let yourself fall back onto the mattress, leaning back onto your forearms. Sevika continues to fuck into you, watching as your puffy cunt began to squirt your cum all over her forearm, even some splashing on her lower stomach. The orgasm shocked up your spine as broken moans leave your mouth, unable to speak to voice your confusion. Your hips buck to chase the most overwhelming orgasm you’ve ever had.

The obscene sight in front of Sevika made her smile to herself, looking down at her squirt-glistening stomach and arm.

“I never…” You trail off as you suck in a deep breath, trying to sit up but the weight of your exhaustion pulls you right back down.

Sevika’s eyes flicker to your shaking inner thighs and the embarrassment in your eyes and it hits her.

“Angel, you’ve never squirted before?” She questions gently.

You shake your head as you blink slowly, your eyelids becoming heavier by the second.

Sevika carefully removes her fingers from your cunt, shushing you with a ‘I know, baby’. You reach for her with weak arms, sighing in relief when she holds you close to her and maneuvers the two of you to avoid the wet spot on the bed.

“I think you killed me,” you mutter into her chest.

“Well, stay alive for a little bit longer. I’m gonna run a bath for you.”

You didn’t realize how sticky you felt until she mentioned the bath. The mix of fluids on your body made you frown until you remember what had just happened. You fucked Sevika.

Well, she fucked you. Better than you’ve ever experienced from the weak and careless attempts you’ve had before her.

“I’m sorry about your sheets,” you wince at the sight of the damp area that you can see out of the corner of your eye.

Sevika shakes her head as she rubs a hand over your naked back to help steady your breathing.

“Don’t be. It felt good, right?” Sevika looks down at you with a teasing grin.

You scoff at her words. “I just said ‘I think you killed me’. What do you think?”

Sevika leans down to peck your lips a few times, mumbling ‘just making sure’ onto your lips. The two of you lay there on her bed for you couldn’t even remember for how long as the rest of the night was a blissful blur. She carried you to the bathroom to sit on the toilet to make sure you pee so that you don’t get an infection and ran you a bath.

The bath helped your sticky feeling. Sevika joined you not too long after you did because well, you had asked her nicely. Lavender-scented bubbles engulfed the two of you, the warm water easing your aching bodies. With your back against her naked chest, you push out a question.

“Are we… dating?”

Sevika was tracing your arm that was resting on the white ceramic of the tub, resting her cheek on the top of your head. There was a mean voice in the back of her head calling her ridiculous to think you would want to be with her; but she ignores it for now.

“We can be. I wouldn’t mind this with you,” she hums as she picks up your hand to hold carefully.

Sevika didn’t specify what ‘this’ was but you hoped it meant more bubble baths and sweet dates. Oh and the endless amount of orgasms.

“Yeah, I want this too,” you grin down at your intertwined fingers. A haunting thought took over your brain, knowing you’d have to mention it at some point. “What about my dad?”

Sevika’s body tenses for a moment but she relaxes the moment you snuggle more into her.

“Well, we can keep it between us for now. Tell him when we feel ready.” Sevika assures you as she runs her thumb over the back of your soap-coated hand.

Between us, your mind echoed. You were okay with that.

TAG-LIST: @strawberrykidneystone @vii-v @savedforlaterr @jiungmcvv @theuclid @luvrmunson @dumcurlyhead @sevikasrightboob @sapphiellar @auraclus @her-gayness @starmaniii @vinxernica @seriouschaosshrimp @amenazaaaa @femininefables @genderfluidlesbain999 @val3ntinswrrld @elliessgfsstuff @iluvwomensm @chaosisclassy @razziematazz @555aturn @graciedollie @vintage-karma @skhv67 @eyelinerfemme @sevikasllver @girlbossuser @acclaaa @lambilegs @pavelyasz @lulumania @applekittypie @darylswifeeyy @belldonic @vangoes @hell0-ki55y @shookkatofthat @mqrzie @sexysapphicshopowner @cstbdf @iristhemuse @sevikasshimmerstrap @tojibestslut @abbysunderwear @sevi-kas01 @paigesbabymama @themostlesbianever @wh1smyk1tten @danimp3 @somos-things @slut4sevika @berntderse @skaireso @aliluvszs @55vies (TAGS CONT IN COMMENTS!)

[plutoslastwords]

lost and found!

lando norris x daughter!reader

summary: baby norris goes missing in a crowded paddock, her father? not happy.

warnings: none!

w/c: 1.8k

a/n: first post here.. eek! i hope you guys like my little character of baby norris, i'm hoping to write more for her, so if you have any requests, please send them in!!

~~~

A Formula 1 paddock was a busy place. Mechanics were working hard to get the cars in tip-top shape for the day, reporters were rushing around to the latest ‘big story’ with dozens of cameras following and fans were scrambling around to get a glimpse of their idols. All in all, the paddock was chaotic for even the most oriented of us.

The paddock was not the place for a three year old. 

However, in the Melbourne paddock, tiny baby Norris was giggling like mad, toddling around the zoo of the paddock, elated to be back at daddy’s work after a long, boring winter break.

Though he hates to admit it, Lando had not planned your appearance in his life. You were the result of a drunken one night stand, and nine months later you appeared to him after your mother signed away any parental rights. Despite that, you were the light of his life, he couldn’t imagine a world without his gorgeous baby daughter who managed to bring so much joy into any situation, you were his everything.

Unfortunately, at present he was preoccupied with some media duties before the upcoming free practice session, so the responsibility of you had been placed on some Mclaren assistant, Henry, who had looked away for a second too long and the little girl had been lost in the crowd. The assistant was shitting himself, how had he managed to screw up this bad, it was his first day on the job and he had already lost the boss’ kid!! He was so gonna be fired.

Therefore, he felt it wise to not mention to Lando that his three year old was currently waddling around the crazy busy paddock, filled with heavy machinery and people 5 times her size. Instead, Henry grabbed some other intern and began frantically searching. 

It was not an easy task, looking for a pocket sized three year old in a rampacked motorsports paddock. Henry and intern no.2 checked the obvious places first: Lando’s drivers room? No. Oscar’s side of the garage? No. The Williams garage? (You were very fond of Carlos) No. 

You were nowhere, somehow Lando Norris’ three year old daughter had been gifted the power of invisibility and disappeared off of the face of the Earth. Henry was stressing. To make matters worse, he then got a text he had been dreading.

Lando Norris

hey man, just finished the interview, thank you for watching the baby, you think you could drop her back to me?

Henry cursed aloud, kissing goodbye to his job as he knew that he’d have to show up to Lando empty handed. Him and the other intern he’d coerced into coming trudged slowly back to the Mclaren garage, preparing to face the wrath of a very angry dad. 

As soon as Lando saw Henry enter, his face lit up, finally getting to see his precious girl after a few grueling hours of media commitments. However, his smile dropped immediately when he saw Henry’s guilty look, and the lack of a toddler in his tow. He marched forward.

“Where the fuck is she?” He demanded, no kindness in his voice.

“I- uhm- she- I’m sorry! She’s so small, and so quick! And one minute she was right next to me and the next she was gone!” Henry cried, accepting that this was the last time he’d be working in an F1 paddock.

“You lost my daughter?!?” Lando seethed, completely outraged, his darling girl was missing! “You had one job and you lost my daughter?? How immensely careless can one person be!” He shouted, the only thing holding him back from suckerpunching Henry being the fact that he was the last person to see you, and therefore would be most helpful in finding you.

The commotion, however, alerted the attention of some other people including Zak Brown, Mclaren’s CEO, who was making his rounds of the garage, greeting some high profile guests. He walked over, patting Lando on the shoulder in a very Zak-Brown-manner.

“Ah, Lando! Been looking for you! What’s going on here?”

“The dickhead lost my kid!” Lando exclaimed, more than furiously, whilst Harry just stood there silently, having gone deathly pale. Zak’s normally upbeat mood dropped, seeing the distress his driver was in, he couldn’t be having this! Free practice was only a couple hours away!

“Oh goodness, that’s not… optimal… Have you searched for her at all, boy?” he questioned Henry, who nodded and let out a noise that could’ve been interpreted as a whimper of fear.

“W-we went to look for her, we searched everywhere! B-but she wasn’t there…” he stammered, this was just great now both of his bosses were here to fire him. Not even his bosses! They were like his boss’ boss’ boss’ bosses!

“Of course you couldn’t find her! She’s like 2 feet tall, no one would be able to find her in a crowd like that!” Lando scoffed, he didn’t want to let his worry show in front of the whole garage, so instead his emotions were being projected as anger towards a very scared looking Henry. 

“Well, why don’t we all calm down..” Zak intervened, he did not need one of his drivers having a meltdown at T-Minus 2 hours before the first free practice session of the season. “I’m sure she’ll turn up, the kid can barely go 30 minutes without her daddy, she’ll be running back soon enough.”

“Oh god, she’s probably so scared…” moaned Lando, Zak’s words doing nothing to soothe him, only heightening the growing sense of dread in the pit of his stomach.

Noticing Lando’s growing anguish, Zak knew he had to act, quickly sending orders to whoever was in shouting distance to go and search the paddock from the bottom up, and not to return until they had a little curly haired girl in their grasp. 

As well as this, he told Henry to go somewhere else and help the search party, he did not think it smart to have Henry and Lando in close proximity, worried about the British driver’s anger getting the best of him. He did not need a fight breaking out only 2 hours before FP1

The next 45 minutes were possibly the worst of Lando’s life, Sochi 2021 was nothing compared to this. His precious, angel, darling girl was missing and there was nothing he could do about as Zak had forbidden him from leaving the garage, claiming he’d draw too much attention if he went out to join the search. What, like 50 Mclaren staff all searching the paddock wasn’t going to draw enough attention itself?

He sat in his driver's room with his face in his hands, distraught at the idea that his baby girl might be hurt, or worse… He couldn’t let himself think about it, his trainer, Jon, was in the room as well trying to soothe his nerves, but nothing was working, all he wanted was his little girl back in his arms.

Suddenly, the door to his driver’s room swung open, revealing Henry, looking extremely tired out, holding a tiny girl who was looking way too proud of herself.

“Daddy!!” You screeched, grinning widely, thrashing around in Henry’s arms to get to him.

“Oh my baby..” About 50 tonnes of weight lifted from Lando’s shoulders as he rushed over to take you from Henry. “My baby, my baby, my baby..” He chanted, rocking you in his arms, holding you close to his chest, never wanting to let go. “You gave daddy such a fright, angel!” He reprimanded, but there was no malice to his tone whatsoever, he was just glad his baby was back. “Where did you run off to, hm?”

“Lollipop, daddy!” You squealed, and then it clicked for Lando, of course that’s where she went. When the two of you arrived in the paddock this morning there was a man selling large lollipops, almost the size of you, near the entrance. You had immediately been struck by this, begging your daddy to pretty please! buy one for you, but Lando had media duties he had to get to, but promised to get one later (he could never say no to you), but of course that wasn’t acceptable to your little head, so you’d had to run away to go get one. 

Surprisingly, you had managed to get her hands on one, though Lando wasn’t sure how, it wasn’t like you had your own money. It was probably because you were just too cute to resist, with your beaming smile, little curly hair and green eyes just like him, you could woo just about anybody. Even the ever serious Oscar Piastri manages to crack some grins whenever you’re around.

“You can’t be running away though my angel… what if you got hurt, hm? And daddy wasn’t there to kiss it better. That was very naughty of you baby.” He tried to be strict with you, he really did, but one look at your little pouting face was enough to make him melt all over again.

“‘M sorry daddy…” You mumbled, you didn’t like it when your daddy tells you off, your daddy never tells you off! “Just wan’ed lollipop…”

“Oh baby, I know… don’t worry, Daddy isn’t angry anymore, he was just scared, okay? And you gotta promise you’re never gonna do that again, otherwise no more lollipops..”

“I pwomise daddy!!” you were fully capable of speaking normally, but even at age 3, you knew exactly the type of voice to use to get your daddy to forgive you. 

“Good girl, angel..” he cooed, still rocking you in his arms. His moment with his daughter was broken, however, when he realised that Henry was still in the room, looking slightly uncomfortable.

“You found her?” He questions Henry, his tone slightly guarded.

“Y-yeah, she was by the entrance.. Didn’t seem very fazed about the chaos she caused…” Henry tries to joke, to lighten the tension, but Lando’s expression was unreadable.

After a moment, Lando spoke up. “I’m not going to fire you.” an audible sigh of relief could be heard coming from Henry. “But you’re never looking after her again, you hear me?” Henry just nods quickly, too thankful that he hasn’t lost his job to care. “Good. you can go now.” The intern scrambles out the room.

“Daddy loves you so much, darling. Always remember that, okay? So so much..” He whispers to the small girl in his arms, who was now starting to doze off, after the excitement of the lollipop saga. 

He just smiled, pressing a loving kiss to the top of your head, before he laid you down on the sofa in his driver’s room, covering you with a blanket so you could sleep peacefully.

~~~

a/n: hope you enjoyed, send in any requests you have!

[rizzanon]

Batdad brainrot

a bruce wayne and daughter! reader oneshot | m.list

Summary: your estranged father tries to connect with you in ways you didn’t expect him to

The argument had started as something small.

Bruce didn’t even remember what it was about. A minor disagreement, an offhand comment, something inconsequential in the grand scheme of things. It shouldn’t have escalated.

But it had.

And now, you weren’t speaking to him.

Well—not exactly. You weren’t avoiding him outright. You still responded when necessary, still showed up when he called, still acknowledged his presence. But it was different.

It was distant.

Mechanical.

Gone were the casual conversations, the random observations you used to share just to fill the silence. Gone were the moments when you’d tell him about something you found interesting, even when you knew he probably wouldn’t have much to say in response. Gone were the little efforts you made to connect—because no matter how much he had failed to meet you halfway, you had always tried.

And now you weren’t.

At first, Bruce Wayne had told himself it didn’t matter. That it was fine. He wasn’t someone who needed constant conversation, who thrived on interaction. He was used to silence. Preferred it, even.

But this wasn’t silence.

This was absence.

And it made something in him itch with discomfort.

Because suddenly, the manor felt empty in a way it never had before.

Bruce had never been good at fixing things that weren’t tangible.

A broken bone could be set. A wound could be stitched. A case could be solved, an enemy could be defeated, a mission could be completed. But this? This was different. There was no direct solution, no simple fix.

And he hated that.

Because every time Bruce saw you, he saw the way your shoulders stiffened. The way your expression remained carefully neutral, the way you answered only when necessary. The way you no longer sought him out, no longer attempted to start conversations, no longer tried—and the worst part was knowing that it was his fault.

He had spent so much time thinking he was protecting you by keeping his distance, by not indulging in sentimentality, by maintaining the walls he had built so carefully over the years. But all he had done was push you away.

And now, he was left with nothing but silence.

He thought about it more than he wanted to admit.

During patrol, during Justice League meetings, even when reviewing case files in the Batcave, his mind kept drifting back to the argument. Kept replaying it over and over, picking apart every word, every moment, trying to pinpoint the exact second he had gone wrong.

Bruce had always believed himself to be a man who thrived in silence. It was in silence that he observed, that he planned, that he found control.

But now, this silence—your silence—was unbearable.

He hadn’t realized just how much you filled the manor with your presence until it was gone. The absent chatter, the missing quips at the dinner table, the lack of commentary whenever you sat next to him in the Batcave, pretending to work while obviously keeping him company. You were avoiding him. Not just in passing, but with intent. And Bruce wasn’t used to that.

Bruce Wayne was many things, but when it came to being a father, he was painfully aware that he wasn’t the best. And now, that awareness was staring him in the face every time you walked past him without a word.

He didn’t realize how lost in thought he was until he felt someone watching him.

Bruce glanced up from the Batcomputer, already knowing who it was before he saw him.

Dick was leaning against the cave’s stone wall, arms crossed, brow raised. He had that look on his face—the one that meant he had been standing there for a while, the one that meant he was waiting for Bruce to acknowledge him first.

Bruce exhaled slowly. “Something you need?”

“I was about to ask you the same thing,” Dick said, pushing off the wall and walking toward him. “You’ve been staring at the same screen for the past twenty minutes. Either you’re trying to solve the world’s hardest crime, or you’re brooding.”

Bruce frowned. “I don’t brood.”

Dick snorted. “Right. And Gotham is a peaceful city with low crime rates.”

Bruce ignored that.

There was a beat of silence before Dick leaned against the Batcomputer, tilting his head slightly. “So? What’s up?”

Bruce hesitated.

For a moment, he considered brushing it off. Telling him it was nothing. That he was just tired, or distracted, or caught up in work. But even as the thought crossed his mind, he knew Dick wouldn’t buy it.

And… maybe a part of him didn’t want to brush it off.

So, with some reluctance, he told him.

And by the time he was done, Dick was looking at him like he was the biggest idiot in the world.

“So, let me get this straight,” Dick said, arms crossed as he leaned against the Batcomputer. “You and (Name) got into an argument. She’s now giving you the silent treatment. And you’re freaking out.”

Bruce gave him a look. “I’m not—”

“Bruce,” he said slowly, “do you hear yourself right now?”

Bruce frowned. “…Yes?”

Dick exhaled sharply, dragging a hand down his face. “You’re overthinking this.”

“I’m aware that’s what I do.”

“Yeah, with cases. Not with your daughter.”

Bruce didn’t respond, but the way his jaw tightened must have said enough, because Dick sighed and shook his head.

“There you go again,” he muttered. “Overanalyzing, scrutinizing, looking for some grand strategy when there isn’t one. She’s not you, Bruce. She doesn’t think like you, doesn’t work like you. So stop putting on the whole ‘Bruce Wayne’ act and trying to figure this out like it’s just another mission. Instead of thinking about how you would approach this, think about how she would.”

Bruce went still.

And just like that, his mind started turning again.

But this time, it wasn’t in the way he usually did.

This time, he wasn’t analyzing things from his own perspective—he was trying to see it from yours.

And that… changed things.

Over the next few days, Bruce found himself researching in a way he never had before.

He had read entire psychological profiles on some of the most complex minds in history. He had deciphered alien languages. He had cracked codes that entire intelligence agencies had failed to solve.

And yet nothing—nothing—prepared him for this.

It started with subtle observations. He paid closer attention to the things you watched, the things you laughed at, the things you scrolled through on your phone. He noted the words and phrases you used, the memes you sent in group chats (not that he snooped—he just happened to see them in passing), the trends you occasionally mentioned in conversation with your brothers and sister.

Then came the actual research.

Bruce Wayne was a detective. A strategist. A man who could crack the most encrypted codes, uncover the deepest secrets, solve the most impossible mysteries.

So surely, surely, understanding Gen Z slang couldn’t be that difficult.

He was wrong.

At first, it was just simple terminology. He started with the basics—words like “rizz,” “mid,” “slay,” and “delulu.” But then he found himself spiraling into deeper territory, encountering phrases that made absolutely no logical sense. “Ate and left no crumbs”? “Touching grass”? “Gyatt”?

What the hell was a “skibidi toilet”? Why was “no cap” a thing? Why did “mid” sound like an insult? What was the difference between “based” and “cringe”? Why did some of these phrases feel like they were meant to be grammatically incorrect?

He had never felt older in his entire life.

But Bruce wasn’t deterred. If anything, the confusion only made him more determined.

So, he studied. He took notes. He tried to analyze sentence structures, context, and usage patterns. He even ventured onto TikTok, only to be immediately bombarded with an overwhelming amount of fast-paced videos, most of which he did not understand.

But he persisted.

His first attempt at incorporating this newfound knowledge into conversation came during dinner.

The table was mostly silent—just the occasional clink of silverware, the occasional page turn from Tim’s book, the occasional soft exhale from Cassandra.

You were sitting across from Bruce, scrolling through your phone, expression unreadable.

And Bruce, in a desperate attempt to bridge the gap that had grown between you, cleared his throat and said, “So… I hear that a lot of things are… bussin’ nowadays.”

The silence that followed was deafening.

Tim looked up from his book, squinting in suspicion. Damian paused mid-bite, staring as if Bruce had grown a second head.

And you?

You just slowly lifted your eyes from your phone, staring at your father with the most deadpan, unreadable expression he had ever seen.

“…What?” you asked flatly.

Bruce maintained his composure. “I was simply acknowledging that many things these days are… as you would say, based….?”

Your stare somehow became more bewildered.

“Father,” Damian said, voice wary. “Are you feeling unwell?”

Tim looked vaguely concerned. “Did you hit your head during patrol?”

Bruce frowned. “No. I—”

But before he could even attempt to recover, you sighed, shook your head, and went right back to your phone.

Bruce realized, then and there, that his first attempt had been a complete failure

So, he regrouped.

His second attempt happened in the Batcave.

You had come downstairs to grab something, and that’s when you saw it—Bruce sitting at the Batcomputer, scrolling.

At first, nothing seemed out of the ordinary. Until you got closer.

And realized that your father was—oh god—scrolling through TikTok.

“…Dad.” you said slowly.

Bruce stiffened.

When he turned, there was a brief moment where he looked like he was debating whether or not to close the tab. But then, after a second of hesitation, he exhaled and faced you fully.

“There’s something I wanted to ask you,” he said seriously.

You raised a brow. “Okay?”

Bruce turned back to the screen.

“Why,” he starts, “do so many of these… influencers believe that Batman is an alpha male?”

You blinked.

He gestured toward the screen, where a video was paused on some random guy in sunglasses talking about “how Batman embodies the peak sigma mindset.”

“They claim that I—he—operates on some kind of grindset mentality,” Bruce continued, sounding vaguely irritated. “That the reason Batman fights crime is due to some misguided sense of superiority rather than a moral obligation. Some of them even say he ‘gives off major red pill energy.’”

You cringed.

Bruce’s frown deepened. “I don’t even know what that means.”

“Oh my god,” you muttered, pinching the bridge of your nose. “B, please stop scrolling on that side of TikTok.”

“I didn’t intend to,” Bruce said. “It just happened to appear on my feed while I was doing research.”

“…Research?”

“For… communication purposes.”

Your eyes narrowed. “What kind of communication purposes?”

Bruce hesitated.

And then, in what was possibly the most botched attempt at Gen Z slang to ever exist, he slowly said, “I’m just trying to… get that W… and not be an L father. No cap.”

Silence.

Pure, unfiltered, incomprehensible silence.

You stared at him, utterly speechless.

Bruce held your gaze, waiting.

Tim, who had just entered the cave, immediately turned around and left.

It took a full ten seconds for you to finally find your voice.

“…What the actual fuck did you just say?”

“Language.”

You were baffled. Was your father hearing what he was saying??

Before you could respond, an alert suddenly blared through the Batcomputer, signaling an Arkham breakout.

And just like that, he was saved by the bell.

Bruce quickly turned back to the screen, scanning the situation, already shifting into mission mode. But before he left, he spared you one last glance.

And, in what was perhaps his most disastrous attempt yet, he said,

“Stay woke.”

Then, without another word, he swept out of the cave.

Leaving you standing there, completely and utterly at a loss for words.

You had no idea what the hell just happened.

And honestly? You weren’t sure you wanted to know.

But the next day, Bruce made one last attempt.

Bruce Wayne had faced some of the most dangerous criminals in the world. He had been thrown through walls, stabbed, shot at, and even died once (technically). He had outmaneuvered gods, masterminds, and creatures of the night.

And yet, standing outside your bedroom door, debating whether or not to knock, he found himself hesitating.

This was ridiculous.

He shouldn’t feel hesitant about this. He was your father. He had faced literal apocalypses without flinching—why was it so difficult to face you?

Was it because of his failed attempts at getting through to you these past few days?

Probably.

But he had committed to this. He wasn’t going to back down now.

So he took a deep breath, steeled himself, and knocked on your door.

A pause.

Then—“Come in.”

He opened the door, stepping inside with careful, measured movements. His eyes swept over the room instinctively, cataloging every detail—your posture, your expression, the way your fingers curled slightly where they rested on your crossed arms.

You were stiff, but not defensive. Guarded, but not hostile.

Not angry. Not anymore.

But you were distant. And that was worse.

Bruce had always relied on presence—on being there, on the sheer weight of existence as a means of maintaining connection. But now he understood that presence wasn’t the same as attention.

He hadn’t given you that. Not the way you had given it to him. Not the way you deserved.

Bruce cleared his throat, trying to find the words. “I…. would like to formally apologize for being the… goat of bad parenting. That was not very…. rizz of me.”

You blinked.

What?

A slow, deliberate blink, your expression frozen in something between shock and utter disbelief.

Bruce noted the way your brows twitched slightly, the way your lips parted just enough to indicate that you had words but were currently incapable of forming them.

Good. That meant you were listening.

He continued, tone steady. “I have, in fact, been caught in 4K being a cringe father. And that’s on me. Major L.”

The silence that followed was excruciating.

You tilted your head ever so slightly, like you were trying to determine if this was some elaborate joke.

Maybe it did seem like that to you.

Bruce pressed forward. “No cap, I have been acting incredibly mid. Probably even giga-mid.”

Still silence.

The twitch in your eye was microscopic but noticeable. The corner of your mouth jerked—barely, almost imperceptibly, but Bruce caught it.

He nodded, as if steeling himself, mentally adjusting his approach. “This whole situation has been, dare I say… a ratio.”

That was what did it.

You snorted.

A small sound, abrupt, barely audible—but it was real.

Encouraging. He could work with this.

“I have realized,” he said solemnly, “that I have been lacking fatherly rizz. A skill issue, if you will.”

Your entire body curled inward as you let out a strangled, disbelieving laugh, hands flying to cover your face as if that would somehow make this entire situation less insane.

Bruce analyzed every detail—the way your shoulders shook, the way your hands trembled slightly as you pressed them against your face, the way you leaned just a fraction forward, no longer so closed off.

Progress.

Finally, gasping for breath, you looked at him with pure horror. “Dad. Please tell me you’re not serious.”

“I am always serious,” Bruce said gravely. “This is an earnest attempt at slayful parenting.”

You made a sound that could only be described as a dying gremlin noise.

Bruce noted the way you hunched further over, like your body was physically rejecting what was happening, and yet—you were still laughing.

You peeked up again, eyes shining with barely restrained mirth. “Dad, what the hell are you saying?”

He furrowed his brows. “Am I not eating right now?”

You lost it again.

Bruce waited patiently as you continued to laugh into your hands.

Finally, wiping at your eyes, you shook your head. “Oh my god, Dad. What is this. Did Alfred put you up to this?”

“No,” Bruce said. “This was all Dick’s idea, somewhat.”

“Of course it was,” you groaned, still grinning. “I knew he was behind this somehow.”

Bruce hesitated, then walked over, sitting at the edge of your bed.

He saw it in the way you met his eyes, in the way your posture was looser, in the way you were actually looking at him now, rather than through him.

“I’m sorry.”

Your smile dimmed, just slightly. “…For what?”

“For the argument, for not listening. And for not being as emotionally available as I should be.”

You searched his face.

Bruce let you.

You studied him, guarded again. But then—softer, you asked, “Why are you trying now?”

“Because you tried first,” Bruce admitted. “And I never met you halfway.”

That got you.

He saw it in the flicker of your expression, in the way your fingers twitched slightly, in the way your gaze softened just enough for him to catch it.

Then, after a long moment, you huffed. “…Is that why you were acting so weird these past few days?”

Bruce nodded. “I will admit… it was incredibly painful.”

You laughed again, but it was softer now. Easier.

Bruce felt something in his chest loosen.

You sighed, stretching your arms behind your head. “…Fine. I forgive you. But please—never say fatherly rizz again.”

Bruce placed a hand on his chest. “I make no promises.”

You groaned dramatically, flopping onto your bed.

But you were smiling.

And for Bruce, that was more than enough.

literally based off my parents trying to act like they understand gen z slang infront of me and my sister LOL 😭 hope you guys enjoyed this 🫶

taglist (open): @k1arar3 @kingshitonly @rainnyydaysworld @ceridwyn3 @darkfaethedestroyer @blueiones @strwberryglass @lithiumval @thephantomdanny @eli-mayhaveatencats @rockyeatrock @dreaming-of-the-reality @shirp-collector-of-fixations @gneepgnorpsneepsnorp @skerbablo | ask to be added <3

[fics-lovebot]

jujutsu kaisen fic recs pt. 3

main masterlist - jjk fic recs pt. 1 - jjk fic recs pt. 2

· · ♡ · · tysm to the amazing creative minds of the writers for giving me sevaral moments of joy reading your creations

pls remember to reblog if you like any of my recs❤️

yuji finds out gojo has a family - ( @kingkonoha ) fluff, lowkey angst, hubby!gojo, dad!gojo, so,,, this made me cry, i love yuji sm he deserves the world :( this is part two and it also made me crY MY MF EYES OUT :))))))))

can´t stop drinking - ( @kingkonoha ) ANGST, death, blood, dad!gojo, husband!gojo, mentions of wanting to die, a curse kills you and your son allegedly but in reality the elders had lied to him all these years, part 2 made me fucking crying

lambent - ( @xo2dee ) kinda fluffy, true form!sukuna, pregnant!reader, heian era customs, hubby!sukuna, a lil cannibalism, THIS NEEDs A KDRAMA

paparazzi´s pov - ( @rayveneyed ) fluff, award winning actor!sukuna, singer!oc, he likes messing around with supermodels but then the both of them meet at a fashion show, next thing you know oc got an anklet with his initials in garnet AÑDLJSÑFDLJ i really like this, would love to see a longer version

mangoes - ( @sttoru ) fluff, pregnant!reader, hubby!sukuna, tru form!sukuna, SOOO CUTEE, this acc had me giggling and kicking my feet

nanami drabbles - ( @sugurizz ) pwp, pls yall readdd part 2 and part 3, its crazyy

fifteen minutes - ( @roseglazedlens ) nanami smut. “Say that again. Louder. Can’t hear shit with the sound of my dick slapping into your cunt.” that´s all I have to say, your honor

protective - (@kingkonoha ) headcanon, hubby!kento, my man my man my man my man i love thissss

the horniest - ( @arminsumi ) gojo smut, ITS SO GOOOOOOOOOODDDDDD, he´s horny af, pussy drunk, obsessed, borderline crazy for that wap

phone calls - ( @kingkonoha ) slice of life, hubby!gojo, dilf!gojo, his wife and his daughter are his only priority, this is so sdkfjskdjfh :´( i love it

jock bf!yuuji - ( @tteokdoroki ) smut, fluff, all-star jock!yuuji, weird gf!reader, college au. one thing about me, i LOVE jock!yuuji. READ THIS AS WELL PLEASSEE

In denial - ( @rosesaints ) smut, sub!yuuta, "he doesn’t believe that it’s real until you’re actually sinking down onto his cock" period.

protective hubby - ( @slttygeto ) teacher!suguru, pregnant wife oc, it´s cutee

focus - ( @arminsumi ) suggestive, flirty!geto, tutor!geto, “you’re doing so good for me… keep going.” I HATE ITTTTT, i would fold like a mf lawn chair bitch OOF

wap - ( @tonycries ) smut, going in raw for the first time. i caNNOT EVEN BEGIN TO DESCRIBE HOW GOOD THIS IS JUST PLEASEEE GO READ IT

warm heart pastry - ( @cckaisen ) text, fluff, crack, first of all,,, i love yuji, second of all satoru REALLY needs help, and third of all WHY IS INUMAKI ALWAYS ON SOME SHIT??? lmaooooo

love struck - ( @xxsabitoxx ) fluffy, ex-fuckboy!satoru, he´s experiencing love for the first time :((((( IT´S SO CUTEEEEEEEEEE

love dumb - ( @arminsumi ) gojo fluff, blurb, you make him lose his composure, can´t even focus bc you´re over there existing, someone should make a longer version of this! so good

will always be yours - ( @nezuscribe ) smut, fluff, so basically toji only does rough sex, doggy style being his fav, but when it comes to you he prefers the loving-face to face-intense eye contanct type of sex (more like love making) bc being with you makes him feel ten different emotions at once :) DÑFLJSLDFJ

ridin dirty?! - ( @screampied ) smut, mechanic!toji, the beggining had me giggling and blushing sdlfhlsjh, he´s too fucking cocky lmao, writing his number on her asscheeks and stuff

losing his mind - ( @daisynik7 ) smut, dom!reader, hubby!kento, sub!kento, overstimulation, multiple orgasms, WHEEEEEEEEW, 10000/10, now this is new

his protégé - ( @augustinewrites ) fluff, slice of life, fiancé!kento, dinner time with yuuji, it´s so wholesome :´)

insecure bully!gojo - ( @saetoru ) angst, lil fluff, he´s a bully and he´s in love, but its not enough. part 2

best of the best - ( @saetoru ) smut, fwb! satoru, big sHIT talker omg, he lit asks you to be his gf wHILE he´s making you cum,,,,,best bf ever tho

[ari-ana-bel-la]

Could you write a Charles Leclerc x child daughter reader (10 years old), where he's at the racetrack, and Charles brings her to the Ferrari garage after school? While in the garage, Charles helps her with her homework and maybe reactions of others on father-daughter moment. I love your fanfics!

Homework in the Paddock

The hum of engines roared through the paddock, a familiar melody to Charles as he walked hand-in-hand with his daughter, Yn. The warmth of the Monaco sun bathed the racetrack in a golden glow, and despite the bustle of team members rushing around, mechanics fine-tuning the cars, and media personnel lingering for interviews, Charles was focused on one thing—Yn.

She was ten years old now, and every bit the light of his life. From the moment she was born, Charles knew his world had changed. It had grown brighter, more meaningful. Every race, every win, every setback—it all mattered more because of her. And he had made sure she could be with him as often as possible, even working out an agreement with her school so she could attend her classes online while traveling with him.

Yn adjusted the straps of her small backpack, shifting it over her shoulders as they walked toward the Ferrari garage. “Papa, what’s on the schedule today?” she asked, glancing up at him with her bright, inquisitive eyes.

Charles squeezed her hand. “I have meetings, media, and then practice, but we have some time before that. I thought we could do your homework together in the garage.”

Yn groaned dramatically, making Charles chuckle. “Papa, I thought I was getting a break from school,” she pouted.

“You promised, ma chérie,” Charles reminded her with a knowing smile. “And I promised your maman I would make sure you did your lessons.”

They stepped into the garage, the smell of fuel and rubber filling the air. The Ferrari team was already busy preparing the car for the next session, but the moment Charles and Yn walked in, heads turned. The entire team had come to adore Yn over the years. She was like a little Ferrari mascot, always there with her father, always bringing an infectious energy that even the most stressful race weekends couldn’t dampen.

“Yn!” Lewis greeted her first, crouching down and holding out his fist for a bump. She grinned and knocked her tiny fist against his. “You keeping your dad in check?”

“I try,” she said dramatically. “But you know how he is.”

Lewis laughed as Charles shook his head. “I’m standing right here, you know.”

Bruno, one of the engineers, came over with a smile. “Doing schoolwork in the garage today, Yn?”

Yn nodded, already pulling out her tablet and notebook. “Papa said we have to,” she said with a sigh, shooting her father a playful look.

Charles pulled up a chair next to the workbench and patted the seat beside him. “Alright, let’s see what we have today.”

Yn sat down, flipping open her notebook. “Math,” she groaned. “Fractions.”

Charles leaned over, scanning the page. “Ah, fractions. The bane of every child’s existence.”

“Did you like math when you were little, Papa?” she asked, pencil poised over the paper.

Charles chuckled. “Not really, but I had to be good at it.”

Yn sighed dramatically, picking up her pencil and staring at the problems. “Okay, if I have three-fourths of a pizza and I eat one-fourth, how much do I have left?” she read aloud.

“Hmm,” Charles said, pretending to think hard. “I don’t know, that’s a tough one.”

Yn rolled her eyes. “Papa.”

He grinned. “Alright, alright. You tell me.”

She tapped her chin before scribbling the answer down. “Two-fourths!”

“Or,” Charles prompted.

“One-half?” she said hesitantly.

He ruffled her hair. “Exactement.”

As they worked through the homework, the Ferrari team continued their preparations, but many couldn’t help but glance over at the duo. It was rare to see such a tender moment in the midst of the high-pressure world of Formula 1, and yet, it felt natural in Charles’ case. He had always been a family man, and everyone knew that Yn was the most important person in his life.

At one point, Lando walked into the garage, talking animatedly to one of his mechanics, but stopped in his tracks when he saw the scene unfolding. He smirked, walking over and leaning against the workbench. “Charles, mate, I don’t think I’ve ever seen you look this serious before.”

Charles looked up, raising a brow. “I am always serious.”

Lando shook his head. “Not like this. This is next-level focus.”

Yn giggled, looking up at Lando. “He’s just helping me with math.”

“Fractions?” Lando asked, peeking at her notebook. “Oh man, I was terrible at those.”

Yn gasped dramatically. “Even race car drivers are bad at fractions?”

Lando nodded solemnly. “Absolutely. That’s why we have engineers to do all the hard stuff for us.”

Yn turned to Charles. “Papa, can I just get an engineer to do my homework too?”

Lewis, who had been listening, burst into laughter. “Brilliant idea.”

Charles groaned, shaking his head. “Non, non, you do your own work.”

Just then, Fred walked by, taking in the sight of Charles hunched over a notebook with his daughter. He paused, then shook his head with a chuckle. “Maybe we should put you on the strategy team, Charles.”

Yn perked up. “Can I be on the strategy team too?”

Fred smirked. “If you’re better at fractions than your Papa, I’ll consider it.”

Everyone laughed as Charles sighed dramatically. “Why does everyone bully me?”

Yn leaned her head against his arm. “Because we love you, Papa.”

Charles softened immediately, pressing a kiss to the top of her head. “And I love you, ma chérie.”

As the day went on, Charles balanced being both a driver and a father seamlessly. He would answer engineering questions, discuss race strategy, then turn back to Yn’s homework to explain another problem. It was a side of him that many in the paddock admired—a father who made sure his daughter always knew she was his priority.

By the time the schoolwork was done, Yn stretched her arms above her head. “That was exhausting,” she declared.

Charles smirked. “Now you know how I feel after a race.”

“But you love racing,” she pointed out.

“And you love learning,” he countered.

She gave him a look. “Let’s not go that far.”

Lewis walked over, tossing Yn a Ferrari cap. “Since you worked so hard, I think you deserve a reward.”

Yn grinned, putting it on her head. “Merci, Lewlew!”

Charles smiled as he watched her interact with the team, knowing that no matter how many trophies or podiums he earned, nothing would ever mean more to him than the little girl who made his world brighter every single day.

♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♥︎♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡

Authors Note: Hey loves. I hope you enjoyed reading this story. My requests are always open for you.

-🩷🎀

[callmeagardengnome]

✗ mob mentality ✗ | ATEEZ (series masterlist)

pairings ✃ individual! mafia! ateez ot8 x fem! reader

genre ✃ mafia au, one-shots, angst + hurt/comfort here and there, romance, potential yandere behaviour, romance

details ✃ a collection of (unique…?) mafia one-shots WITH NO SMUTTTT created by yours truly. (all are standalone)

۶ blood in the clouds ৎ

[mafia leader! hongjoong x flight attendant! fem! reader]

it’s finally your last day as a flight attendant. you wanted nothing more than to laze on your couch and watch netflix - just to find out that one of your passengers blew out the brains of your pilot with a gun.

in which hongjoong hijacks a plane that his rival’s daughter is on.

poll | deleted scenes

۶ sugar and sin ৎ

[mafia! seonghwa x fem! reader]

seonghwa goes above and beyond to eliminate his targets: going undercover in places they go to most. when you happen to spend your time in a secluded bakery, seonghwa decides to bake your treats with doses of poison - yet somehow, you keep surviving.

in which you thought you made a new friend in your local bakery, when in reality - your ‘baker’ keeps mistaking laxatives for poison.

deleted scenes

۶ marathon extravaganza ৎ

[mafia! prisoner! yunho x police officer! fem! reader]

you’ve worked in a high-security prison for years, and yunho has never given you any trouble. unlike the other inmates who harassed, threatened or flirted with you - he treated you with something close to respect. so when you caught him escaping with a man you’ve never seen before, it dawned on you: yunho was never a good inmate. he was waiting.

in which you and yunho enter a wild goose chase. 

۶ under the hood ৎ

[mafia! yeosang x car mechanic! fem! reader]

as a mechanic, you tend to see clients on the daily - some new, some old. but when one of your regulars leave a $100,000 bag of cash on your counter, it seems like you’ve turned from ordinary citizen to wanted criminal. 

in which yeosang accidentally gave you the bag of money he stole instead of a ten dollar tip. 

۶ fries in the bag ৎ

[mafia! san x fast food employee! fem! reader]

san’s most effective method of killing is by using his looks to lure his enemies - making many powerful women (and men) fall for him. but when a regular person seems to be unfazed by his charms, san decides to do anything to make you fall in love with him. 

in which you finally got through your 2am shift, only to find the severed head of your abusive manager at your doorstep. 

۶ voice of crime ৎ

[mafia! mingi x anime VA! fem! reader]

when you entered the voice acting industry, you knew that there would be people that either loved you or hated you. but what you didn’t expect was to get shot at an anime convention by a weeb in cosplay. 

in which mingi accidentally shoots his favourite voice actress instead of her boyfriend that was beside her.

۶ money makers ৎ

[mafia! wooyoung x fem! reader]

day and night, you work in a shitty multi-million dollar corporation that doesn’t care about you. and to make matters worse, you had to find out that the whole company is in debt to a mafia gang by getting kidnapped during office hours. 

in which wooyoung tries to torture information out of you, only to realise that he’s found his kryptonite: a suicidal intern. 

۶ siren’s call ৎ

[mafia! jongho x jazz singer! fem! reader]

as the newest addition to the mafia, jongho got assigned to the boring task of scoping out a random bar in town. annoyed, he decided to leave early. or so he tried. when the singer stepped on stage and sang into the mic, her voice pulled jongho further into the bar than out. 

in which you begin to notice a regular in your gigs, though you can't ignore that your male audience seems to be disappearing one by one. 

hi yall! i initially only wanted to make one hongjoong oneshot until i realised how much i love mafia aus. there will be no smut in these stories and at most, there will be a detailed kissing scene. also do not expect regular updates!

if you want to be added to the taglist, feel free to ask!

series taglist [OPEN] - @hanoishere @scuzmunkie @sinfullygay @arusio @midnightrebel1028 @neemaxx @seungminsrighthand @arilevenatz @ateezswonderland @beabatiny @lemirabitur @sunnyhokyu @frzzenfrxg @cylovesmg @txtsoobean @seonghwasslytherin @sundaybossanova @sweetinsaniiity @cybrnaya @choisanchwego @mrskill2 @devilzliaison @scary-thingz @gaonashi @jonghosbrainrot @mintchocoyum @justconniez @shiningpaint-marbleheart @stercul1a @sophrxsyne @pansexual-and-eating-pancakes @hii-hawaiiu @inkpot-winters @kryscent @hwateezz @xionarauwu @clmstorm @darlingz99 @physicofanatic

spec one-shot taglist [OPEN]:

yunho: @hoe4yunho

other fics

[no-144444]

mixup- o.piastri

summary: oscar gets a bit jelly when you and franco get close

pairing: oscar piastri x fem! reader

a/n: for the person on my last post who wanted the photo of mark webber with his grippers out (just put the fries in the bag) here is two!

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When Oscar saw you for the first time, he was slightly stunned into silence. He knew who you were, everyone in McLaren did. You were one of the board member’s daughters, and you knew everyone. You were friends with everyone, you knew every driver on the grid, everyone. Except Oscar. He’d somehow side stepped your friendship despite you knowing every other driver on the F1 grid, F2 grid, and F3 grid. 

Anyway, he was in love with you, and that’s all that mattered. You befriended him in his first year, but you’d only been around sporadically in the 2024 season, and when you were there, all of your time was spent catching up with all the other drivers, and Oscar could only steal so much of your time. That didn’t mean that you two didn’t text though. You and him had months and months of ‘friendly’ texts, and on more than one occasion he’d almost be driven to send the dreaded ‘what are we?’ text, but thankfully, Logan usually stopped him. 

He did not like the way you were talking with Franco and had been for a while. He was touching your arm, you were laughing at something he said, and Oscar couldn’t control the frown on his face. 

“Jesus christ mate, he’s actually going to get hurt if you don’t stop staring daggers at him,” Lando joked. 

“I’m not,” Oscar huffed, getting on with eating his lunch. 

“Have you asked her out yet?” Lando asked, and Oscar just… avoided eye contact. “Come on mate! She’s never going to say yes to you if you don’t actually ask her!”

“Well, she’s also never going to say no, if I don’t ask her,” Oscar pointed out, purposefully waving a piece of salmon much too close for Lando’s comfort. 

Lando pushed his fork back. “She’s not going to say no!”

“Hey Y/n!” Zak called, sitting at the table next to them. 

“Hey Zak,” you smiled. It was an easy, gentle smile, the kind that drove Oscar crazy. 

“Where have you been all day?” he mused, an eyebrow raised as he looked between you and Franco, who was slowly walking abc to Williams. 

“I was with Franco, actually,” you explained. “I told him I’d never been at the circuit before so he gave me a tour of the entire paddock, and of Williams. I met all of his mechanics and all, it was great!”

He chuckled. “So when’s the wedding?”

You scoffed. “It’s not like that, well… it kind of is. We’re apparently going on a date so, we shall see!” you admitted, a nervous smile on your lips. 

Oscar and Lando locked eyes. Oscar’s were full of shock and panic, whereas Lando’s were full of amusement. 

“Y/n!” Lando called, alerting half the canteen. “I thought you were with Oscar?”

Oscar had one thought:

Please stop. Please stop. Please stop. Please stop. Please stop. Please stop. Please stop. Please stop. Please stop. Please stop. Please stop. Please stop. Please stop. Please stop. Please stop. Please stop. Please stop. Please stop. Please stop. Please stop. Please stop. Please stop. Please stop. Please stop. Please stop. Please stop. Please stop. Please stop. Please stop. Please stop. Please stop. Please stop. Please stop. Please stop. Please stop. Please stop. Please stop. Please stop. Please stop. Please stop.

But he didn’t. Oscar buried his face in his hands as Lando stood there, digging him a deeper hole. He would’ve rather just lived out his friend-zoned life and still be your friend, but with the way Lando was rambling on, he would be lucky fi there wasn’t a fucking restraining order. 

“And like… all the texts and stuff! I thought you two were hitting it off, they seemed pretty flirty to me! And I’m an expert on that type of thing. And he’s like… in love with you or whatever, and you like him too! Isn’t he pretty! You told me he was pretty once when you were drunk, don’t deny that!”

You stood there with an amused smile on your lips. “I think if Oscar was actually in love with me, he would’ve made a move by now,” you chuckled before walking off, but not before ruffling Oscar’s hair. Oscar was bright red. Bright red. Once you were out of ear-shot, the entire canteen was laughing at the situation. Mark clapped a hand on his back. 

“That went over about as well as a dead horse,” he chuckled. Oscar shook his head, smiling despite himself. 

“I’m fucked,” he sighed. “I fucked it up. She’s going out with Franco.”

Mark shook his head. “Not if you confess now.”

Oscar stared at him, waiting for an explanation. 

Mark rolled his eyes. “The girl is mad about you!” Oscar groaned but Mark shushed him. “Seriously! She adores you. You just need to ask her out! Fuck Franco, he’s a newbie, you’ve been his friend for 2 years now, and Lando isn’t wrong, those texts are flirty!”

Oscar looked at Mark, unimpressed, but then turned to Lando (who had a very big smile on his face, awaiting a ‘thank you’) with a scowl. He got up and brought his lunch with him. “Neither of you are helpful!”

୨ৎ⋅୨ৎ⋅

Somehow, he ended up in your hotel room at the end of the night, his lips on yours. He hadn’t told anyone about this. Whatever it was, he wanted it to be his and yours only. No teasing comments from Lando, no ‘advice’ from Mark. It had started a few months ago, one drunken night that led to too much, but neither of you stopped. Neither of you were drunk the second time it happened, and since then you’d been hooking up every now and then, just to relieve stress. 

“Osc,” you mumbled against his lips. He smiled. You'd been making out for about 40 minutes, and the nights either ended with mind blowing sex (with the girl he was in love with), or a movie and sleeping in your bed. Win-win either way. You straddled him against the headframe, his shirt already off and you in your bra and sleep shorts, he was kind of hoping for the first one.

“Hm?” he muttered, never pulling away. Having his hands on you, your hands on him, it felt good. 

You pulled back with a nervous expression, and he stilled. Had he done something to upset you? Had he gone too far? 

“You weren’t upset today,” you stated. 

He stared at you, slightly confused. “Yes?”

You frowned. “You really don’t actually like me, do you?” you chuckled, but it wasn’t a real chuckle. It was too sad to be your chuckle, and the way you pushed yourself off his lap and held your legs to your chest. 

He panicked. How was he supposed to explain the 2 years of yearning he’d partaken in? “I’m in love with you,” he blurted out, and your eyes widened, so he just buried his face in his hands again. ���I’m sorry! I didn’t mean-”

You laughed. Your real, gorgeous laugh. “I love you too.”

He ripped his hands away from his face. “But Franco-?”

“I was trying to make you jealous!” you scoffed. He rolled his eyes. 

“Why didn’t you just talk to me?”

“Why didn't you just talk to me?!” you accused, and you both just started laughing at how stupid you both were. 

“Come here,” he told you. He wrapped his arms around you, holding you close as he pressed soft kisses to your neck. “I’m really fucking glad you tried to make me jealous today.”

“Did it work?” you giggled.

“Very much so,” he admitted, biting into the side of your neck hard enough to make you let out a squeak, which made you both laugh. 

You turned to him, running a hand through his unruly hair. You pressed your lips to his. 

“I love you,” he confessed (again). You smiled. 

“I love you too.”

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navigation for my blog :) (masterlist)

[joemama-2]

velvet lies

pairing: gojo x fem reader

synopsis: crippling debt and possible evictions have ruined you. working two jobs with no downtime, and a five-year-old son, you really don't know the meaning of taking a break. after continuous questions about his father, you have decided to finally let your son meet his dad. only thing is, he has no idea said son exists. and to top it off, you have not a single clue about what kinds of things will transpire from this sudden revelation. wc: 16.7k

tags/warnings: 18+ MDNI, smut, fluff, romance, alcohol, classism, mom! reader, lying, abuse, MAJOR angst, slow burn, exes to lovers, (mentions of) cheating, scandals, death, blood, drugs, drama, family drama, miscommunication, blackmail, unhealthy coping mechanisms , depression, manipulation

series masterlist < previous chapter < next chapter < spotify playlist

Who needs enemies when you have people like a shitty landlord, an evil woman who calls herself Satoru’s “girlfriend”, and of course—a deadbeat, horrible mother. A mother who cares more about herself than the baby she carried for nine months, the one who didn’t care whether you heard about her “special activities” that took place late at night when she thought you were sleeping, a mother who values materialistic things more than family. The kind of mother who’s holding onto you for dear life like you’ve just come back from the army. You feel completely disgusted, utterly infuriated by the act she’s putting on. You wish you had the strength to push her off immediately, but it seems that even time can’t heal certain wounds. 

How annoying.

“I missed you so much, baby girl,” your mother says, rubbing your arms up and down in what you assume is supposed to be a comforting manner. “What have you been up to? Oh, you’ve grown so big! I’m so proud of you.” Her eyes drift over to your right, landing first on Satoru. The tick in her jaw is unmistakable. And when she looks down at the much younger boy, blinking his wide eyes up at her curiously, you of all people know best she’s this close to lashing out. Her smile dampens, eyes narrowing into tiny slits.

As if on cue, you bring Koji behind your back. When she peers up at you, lip curling in preparation for a tiny scoff, Satoru steps in front of you. 

His presence is an like immovable wall, his towering frame casting a long shadow over your mother. You don’t even need to see his face to know the expression he’s wearing—sharp, unamused, and carrying that thinly veiled amusement that only makes him more infuriating to people like her. “Ah, so you do remember me,” Satoru drawls, his tone bordering on mockery. “Was starting to think you might’ve conveniently forgotten.”

Your mother’s nostrils flare. “Of course, I remember you,” she says, voice sickly sweet, but there’s an underlying venom in it, a warning that you know all too well. “How could I forget you? But I’m not here for the likes of you.”

You bite your tongue, fingers twitching at Koji’s small body pressed behind you. You don’t need to turn around to know he’s peering around your waist, big blue eyes filled with confusion. He doesn’t understand what’s going on, and doesn’t recognize the tension seeping into the air like a poisonous fog. And you want it to stay that way. “Why are you here?” you ask, keeping your voice steady despite the storm raging inside you.

Your mother’s eyes flick back to you, sidestepping slightly, and for a split second, something ugly flashes across her face—resentment, bitterness, something you’ve been familiar with since childhood. But just as quickly as it appears, it’s gone, replaced by a saccharine smile that makes your skin crawl. “Can’t a mother come to see her daughter after all these years?” she says, feigning hurt. “I just— I missed you, baby. I wanted to make things right.”

A cold laugh bubbles up in your throat, but you swallow it down. You don’t believe her. Not for a second.

Satoru scoffs, shifting on his feet as he crosses his arms. “Right. And I’m the tooth fairy.”

The air around you feels tight, suffocating like a noose slowly constricting around your neck. You can feel the weight of the past pressing down on you, every horrible memory clawing its way back up, threatening to drown you. She doesn’t get to do this. She doesn’t get to waltz back into your life like she’s entitled to it. “I don’t have time for this,” you say, finally finding your voice. You shift Koji further behind you, fingers tightening around his small hand. “You need to leave.”

Her smile wavers, her perfectly painted lips twitching at the edges. “Baby—”

“Don’t call me that.”

The words come out sharper than you intended, but you don’t regret them. Not when her expression finally cracks, revealing the ugly truth beneath.

For a second, just a second, she looks like she might actually argue. Like she might lash out the way she used to when you were younger—when she’d lose her temper and hurl words like daggers, words meant to make you feel small, to break you. But she holds it all within a facade, eyebrows simply raising as a chuckle of disbelief leaves her lips. “Oh, so…this is how you’ve become all these years while I wasn’t around? First, you’re pushing me away, and second, you’re doing it for what? For…this?” She gestures to the three of you in a lazy manner. “Plus, I get to meet my grandson, do I not? That’s one of the privileges of being a grandmother.” The word leaves a bad taste in her mouth like she can’t fathom the fact that she is indeed one.

You feel your stomach churn, bile rising in your throat. Grandmother. The word sounds wrong coming from her like it doesn’t belong—like it should disintegrate the moment it leaves her lips. Your grip on Koji tightens, and you feel him shift slightly behind you. He doesn’t understand the reality of what’s happening, but he senses it—how the air is heavier, how your body is tenser.

Satoru, beside you, lets out a low, amused hum. “Privilege?” he echoes, tilting his head as if the word itself is funny. “You think being a grandmother is a privilege you’re just automatically entitled to?”

Haruka’s lips press into a thin line, her fingers twitching as she folds her arms across her chest. “I don’t see why not,” she says coolly. “Blood is blood. Family is family.”

You scoff, the sound dry and bitter. “That’s rich, coming from you.” She narrows her eyes, but you don’t stop. “You don’t get to show up out of nowhere and act like you have some sort of claim over my son and I,” you say, voice unwavering despite the storm inside you. “You lost the right to be my family a long time ago.”

Her nostrils flare slightly, but she doesn’t lash out, doesn’t throw the fit you know is bubbling under her carefully constructed mask. Instead, she exhales slowly through her nose, forcing a smile that doesn’t reach her eyes. “I see,” she murmurs. “So you’ve been brainwashed.” Her gaze flickers to Satoru, mirth pooling in her eyes. “By him.”

Satoru actually laughs. A full, genuine laugh like she’s just told him the funniest joke in the world. “Oh, that’s good,” he muses. “That’s real good.” Then, his laughter fades, replaced by something much sharper, much colder. “Hate to break it to you, lady, but your daughter has a brain of her own. And she knows exactly who’s worth keeping in her life.”

Your mother’s jaw tightens and it looks like she might slap him. But then her gaze falls back on you, assessing, calculating. You brace yourself for whatever she’s about to say, but somehow, it still knocks the air from your lungs. “You think you’re any better than me?” she asks, voice laced with condescension. “You think just because you ran away, just because you played house with him, that you’re suddenly the perfect little mother? Sweetheart, you are me. You’ll see that soon enough.”

But you won’t let her win. Not this time. Your fingers tighten around Koji’s, grounding yourself, and when you speak, your voice is unwavering.

“The difference between us,” you say slowly, deliberately, “is that I would never do to my son what you did to me.”

A flicker of something—shock?—crosses her face. Then, she steps back, smoothing a hand over her coat like she’s wiping something unpleasant off of her.

“Well.” Her tone is clipped, her posture stiff. “I suppose we’ll just have to see about that.”

“I’m no—”

“But look at this!” Her arms widen as she steps back, a dramatic sweep of her gaze taking in the lingering eyes and hushed whispers of the other families. Some look away quickly, feigning disinterest, while others openly stare, their curiosity outweighing their manners. You swallow hard, your pulse hammering in your ears. The attention prickles against your skin like a thousand tiny needles, suffocating and unrelenting. “It’s truly such a picture-perfect scene,” your mother continues, her voice dripping with mockery. “A loving man, a beautiful child, and you, playing the devoted mother.” She tilts her head, eyes gleaming with something cruel. “Tell me, do you ever stop to wonder when it’ll all fall apart?”

Satoru shifts beside you, his jaw tightening. You can feel the protective energy radiating off of him, the way he’s this close to stepping in and shutting her down. But you don’t want him to—not yet.

Because she’s wrong.

Because she doesn’t get to do this. Not anymore.

You take a deep breath, straightening your spine. “You don’t know anything about my life,” you say, voice steady despite the fire burning in your chest. “And you sure as hell don’t get to stand here and act like you do.”

Your mother clicks her tongue, unimpressed. “I know enough,” she muses, her gaze flicking back to Koji. You immediately shift, shielding him with your body.

Her lips curl into a smirk. “You can try to keep him away from me all you want. But at the end of the day, you’ll realize that blood isn’t something you can run from. Besides Y/N, I still love you, I always have and always will.”

The words hang in the air like a death sentence.

Koji, sensing the tension, clings to your leg, small fingers curling into the fabric of your jeans. You don’t dare look down at him, don’t want to acknowledge just how much of this he’s absorbing. Satoru exhales sharply, patience finally wearing thin. “I think we’re done here,” he says, voice clipped, his hand resting firmly on your lower back. A quiet but undeniable claim. “Let’s go.”

Without another word, he’s ushering you and Koji to his car, pushing past your mother who stumbles back a bit on her two feet. She scoffs and stares daggers into your heads, but neither you nor Satoru look back. Wordlessly, he’s opening the passenger door for you, opening the back for Koji, and helping him get into his booster seat. He closes both doors with finality, rounding the car and going to the driver’s side. Before he opens it, he looks back over at Haruka. “You stay away from all of us. I have a good set of lawyers.”

“Is that a threat?” She calls out.

“It’s a promise,” is all he says before getting in and shutting the door. He’s quickly starting the car and driving you both away from the mess your mother’s arrival had made. Quiet envelops the interior of the car. Koji peering at his father and then you, biting his lip and swinging his feet back and forth in an antsy way. “Mama, why did the woman look like you? Is she grandma?”

But you don’t say anything. Focusing on the loose thread of your coat sleeve, fingers clenched tightly. Your body is stiff as a board like it’s anticipating something. Satoru peeks at you from the corner of his eye and after he assesses you won’t be saying anything, he looks forward. “She is.”

Koji tilts his head, his brows furrowing in confusion. “But… you don’t like her?”

Still, you don’t answer. Your fingers curl around the loose thread, twisting it between your thumb and forefinger. Your pulse is loud in your ears, drowning out the steady hum of the engine.

Satoru’s grip tightens on the steering wheel. “No,” he says simply. “Mama doesn’t.”

Koji goes quiet for a moment, digesting the information in his small way. Then, with the kind of innocence only a child could possess, he mumbles, “Then I don’t like her either.”

Something inside you clenches painfully, but still, you can’t bring yourself to say anything.

Satoru sighs, reaching out with one hand to gently squeeze your thigh, fingers firm but reassuring. It’s not much, but it’s enough to pull you back, to remind you that you’re here, in the present—not trapped in memories you don’t want to relive. “She’s not gonna bother us,” Satoru murmurs, eyes flicking toward you again. “I won’t let her.”

You want to believe him.

You need to believe him.

But as the car speeds down the road, your heart tells you otherwise. Your mother never shows up without a reason. And whatever she wants this time…

It won’t be simple.

“I…I don’t know what she could possibly want from me,” you mutter shakily, face screwing up at the familiar burn of tears at your eyelids. 

“Don’t worry about that, don’t worry about anything. She’s not going to bother you and if she does, I’m right here.” His thumbs are small, soft back and forth motions on your thigh. The gesture brings you a tiny sense of serenity. In other circumstances, you would’ve pushed him away and told him not to do that anymore. However, you find yourself doing the opposite. Dwelling in his touch, hesitantly putting your hand on top of the back of his. His palm turns upright and carefully intertwines your fingers with his. 

Your heart does somersaults. 

He brings your hand up over to his lips, pressing a delicate kiss on your knuckles. “She’s wrong, you know,” he murmurs, his voice softer now, meant only for you.

You gulp. “...about what?”

“Everything.” 

The word lingers between you, settling into the silence like a whisper of reassurance, a promise unspoken yet deeply felt.

Everything.

That you’re like her. That you’ll turn into her. That you’re anything less than the mother Koji deserves, the woman he—Satoru—still sees beneath all the walls you’ve built. Your fingers twitch against his, gripping just a little tighter. The warmth of his hand is grounding, pulling you away from the storm inside your head. You inhale slowly, trying to steady your trembling chest, blinking away the tears that threaten to spill. Your head turns towards the window, biting down on a quivering lip as the car comes to a halt at a red light.

Koji—truly unaware of the depth of the moment passing between his parents, but still trying to integrate himself somehow. “Papa, are we going home?”

Satoru doesn’t take his eyes off you when he answers.

“Yeah, kid,” he says, squeezing your hand. “We’re going home.”

“This is my son, Satoru.” Yamato’s voice greets the pair of father and son as they enter the conference room. They shake hands and Yamato sits back down next to Satoru, who’s currently leaning back in his seat with a blank look, swiveling from side to side. Yamato nudges his son’s foot under the table in silent command.

“Nice to meet you,” Satoru says, still not rising from his seat.

“Nice to meet you, this is my daughter, Himari.”

Kenji ushers his daughter to sit down next to him, both of them across from Yamato and Satoru. Already, he’s dreading this. In typical boy nature, his eyes rake up and down the girl sending him a coy smile, biting the inside of his cheek in confliction. Sure, she’s pretty. Brown hair, pretty brown eyes, a slender figure, a nice glow to her complexion. But she’s not you. It’s only been a year and a half and Satoru still can’t rid his mind of you. Certain scents, music, and places, they all remind him of you. He’s not sure if he hates it. His father, ever the businessman, has sprouted the seed in his ear about him moving on and that his “friend’s” daughter is single. He always brushed him off, but of course, he can’t run away from his duties forever. 

Her lips don’t even look twice as delicious as yours did. 

Still, Satoru plasters on a charming—if not slightly detached—smile as Himari tucks a strand of hair behind her ear, feigning shyness. He knows this game, knows the expectations that sit heavily between their fathers, silent yet thunderous. Himari tilts her head slightly, watching him with interest. “It’s nice to finally meet you, Satoru,” she says smoothly, her voice pleasant but calculated. “Our fathers talk about you a lot.”

Satoru leans back further in his chair, legs spreading just enough to make himself comfortable but not enough to look sloppy. His father would kill him for that. “All good things, I hope.”

Kenji lets out a good-natured chuckle. “Of course. Himari’s been quite interested in meeting you, you know.”

“Oh?” His gaze flickers to her, catching the way she twirls a ring around her finger. Flirtation, subtle and practiced.

He can already tell what this is—what they expect. A business transaction wrapped in tradition and expectation, sealed with marriage papers. A pretty wife from a good family, one that would benefit them both. But Satoru has never been one to follow a script. His mind drifts, unbidden, to you. To how you never needed to be calculated to get his attention, to how your laughter wasn’t poised but effortless, how you never looked at him with an agenda, only with love. That’s what’s missing here. That’s why his chest feels tight, why the scent of jasmine perfume instead of your lingering marshmallow, floraly makes his stomach churn. Because no matter how pretty Himari is, no matter how perfectly poised she sits across from him, she isn’t you.

And she never will be.

The rest of the conversation flowed in one ear and out the other. The only thing keeping him somewhat grounded to Earth was the feel of her foot playfully caressing his leg up and down under the table. The first time it happened, he cleared his throat in awkwardness, shifting in his seat in hopes she’d get the memo. Instead, she only moves her chair closer to the table, extending her leg out slightly more. Yep, pushy.

“....as I was saying before, Yamato. Tenka Couture can give the Gojo Group exactly what they need. We can help you expand into the fashion and entertainment markets. Even international ones. Together, we can both strive globally.”

Kenji's voice carries on, confident and smooth, but Satoru barely registers a word. His fingers drum against the polished mahogany table, his expression unreadable as he feels Himari's foot trail further up his leg. He exhales sharply through his nose, schooling his face into neutrality. If his father notices his discomfort, he doesn’t acknowledge it. Yamato is far too focused on the conversation at hand, nodding along as Kenji lists off strategic benefits, figures, and projections. Satoru flicks a glance at Himari. She’s watching him through her lashes, lips curled into a knowing smirk. She’s enjoying this—enjoying testing him, enjoying the idea that she has any sort of power over him.

It grates on his nerves.

His mind drifts again.

Would you have done this? No—definitely not like this. You were never one for games, never one to wrap yourself in artifice. When you touched him, it wasn’t planned. It was because you wanted to. Because you loved him. And yet, here he is, sitting across from someone who doesn’t even know him, who only wants what he represents.

He sighs, his patience wearing thin. “Sounds like a great deal,” Yamato replies, leaning forward. “But tell me, Kenji—what exactly is the catch?”

“Well,” Kenji chuckles and laces his fingers together. “Of course, I believe the best way to go about this is through our children. Although I know this is the modern era and I don’t wish to put a rush on things, I think it would be best if my lovely daughter married within at least…ten years. It gives them enough time to get acquainted with one another, and us enough time to grow closer as businesses.” 

Satoru feels his stomach turn. Marriage. Of course, that’s what this is really about. It was never just about business—it was about leverage. About power. About cementing alliances in the most permanent way possible. His grip tightens on the armrest of his chair, fingers digging into the fabric. Himari’s smirk only widens, like she’s already won, like she knows he won’t fight it.

Because what choice does he have?

Yamato doesn’t even hesitate. “That’s a reasonable timeline,” he muses, nodding. “It allows them to build a solid foundation, get used to each other. I think it’s a wise decision. But if you don’t keep up your end of this deal, there will be consequences.”

Satoru’s jaw ticks. Ten years. Ten years of forced interactions, of pretending, of playing the role his father expects of him. Ten years of being bound to someone who is nothing more than a stranger. Ten years without you. Kenji leans back in his chair, satisfied. “Of course, it’s all up to them in the end. But I trust that with time, they’ll see the benefits of this arrangement.”

Himari finally pulls her foot away from his leg, but the ghost of her touch lingers like an itch he can’t scratch. Satoru exhales slowly, forcing himself to stay composed. He knows how this game works. Knows his father expects compliance, and knows he has to play along—for now. But deep down, something in him burns. Because you’re still out there. Because despite everything, despite time and distance, he knows exactly who he wants.

And it isn’t her.

But despite everything, he found himself wrapped in her sheets exactly one week from the dreaded meeting. The sex was okay, but he couldn’t stop your face. The days passed on in a slow manner, and over that course, he was slowly beginning to heal from you and your guys’ relationship. He stopped feeling guilty for being intimate with another woman and he was able to visit that cute cafe you loved so much without feeling nauseous as soon as he stepped in. However, he didn’t even actually make it official with Himari until he just turned 27. 

He remembers a conversation with Himari. 

“I want a lot of children.”

Satoru had merely hummed in response, swirling the whiskey in his glass as he leaned back into the plush seat of the lounge they were in. It was late, the warm glow of the ambient lighting casting soft shadows over Himari’s face. She looked expectant, eyes searching his for a reaction.

“You do?” he finally said, taking a slow sip.

“Yes,” she smiled, tucking a strand of hair behind her ear. “At least three or four. I want a big family.”

He glanced at her over the rim of his glass, expression unreadable.

“I just think it’s important, you know? Family. My parents worked so hard to build what we have, and I want to continue that. Raise my children in a secure environment, with traditions, stability…” She paused, tilting her head. “Don’t you?”

Satoru’s grip on his glass tightened.

Once upon a time, he might have said yes. Might have dreamed about what it would be like to have a family of his own. But that was before. Before he learned that love wasn’t enough to keep someone from leaving. Before he learned that no matter how tightly he held onto something, it could still slip through his fingers. Back then, he had imagined forever with someone.

Now, he wasn’t sure he even believed in the word.

So instead, he just offered a half-smile, one that didn’t quite reach his eyes. “Yeah,” he murmured, swirling the last remnants of his drink. “That sounds nice.” Himari beamed, satisfied, but Satoru only glanced away, gaze settling on the ice melting in his glass.

He’s always thought back to that conversation. Did he want kids? Did he want a big family? Hell, he doesn’t even know. 

But now, as he watches you and his only son curled up on the couch together, holding each other as you both sleep peacefully. He can still make out the redness around your eyes from your earlier crying session while Koji was busy playing with his toys. Comforting you felt easy to him—like second nature. And you welcomed his words, his hug, even the very small, faint kiss he planted on your temple. 

He feels a little bit like a creep just watching you guys sleep. But now, the answer has come to him. 

He wants a big family with you. He’ll quite literally die from happiness overload if you have more of his kids. Maybe the next one will look more like you?

His face scrunches up, holding his chest and falling back onto the free cushion of the couch. It feels like his heart is being squeezed, in a good and bad way—like something warm and unbearable all at once. He squeezes his eyes shut, exhaling slowly through his nose. It’s stupid to never realize just how much he’s always wanted this. A family. A home. Something real, something his. And now that he knows it’s possible, now that he has Koji, has you back in his life in some fragile, complicated way, the thought of losing it again makes his stomach twist.

He turns his head, watching the slow, even rise and fall of your breaths. Koji is nestled against you, his tiny fingers curled into the fabric of your shirt. His son. His.

Satoru lifts a hand to his chest, pressing his palm over the ache. He thinks of all the years he missed, all the moments he could have had. First words, first steps, birthdays, bedtime stories—things that should have been his to witness. He should be angry. Maybe he still is. But right now, he just feels...overwhelmed.

A soft noise leaves your lips as you shift slightly in your sleep, your brow twitching like you’re dreaming. Without thinking, he reaches out, brushing a stray strand of hair from your face. His fingers linger a second too long before he pulls back, swallowing hard.

God, he’s so fucked.

Because now that he knows what he wants—now that he knows he wants this family with you—he has no idea how to keep it. Or if you even feel the same way. But the way your face relaxes ever so slightly, subconsciously leaning into his touch, he starts to believe that he may not be the only one.

“So, are you going to be putting your two weeks in?”

“What? I mean, I haven’t been looking at other jobs yet.”

Hana hums silently, cleaning the counter. Your brows furrow in confusion at her behavior. She’s not being outwardly rude, but you can sense something is still on her mind. “You’re not…upset I’m moving, are you? We talked about this.”

Hana lets out a soft sigh, setting the cloth down before turning to face you fully. “I know we did,” she says, crossing her arms. “But talking about it and actually seeing it happen are two different things, you know?”

You tilt your head, watching her carefully. “I thought you were happy for me.”

“I am,” she insists, but there’s something tight about the way she says it. “It’s just… you’re really leaving. And I guess I thought—” She stops herself, shaking her head. “Never mind. It’s stupid.”

Your frown deepens. “Hana.”

She exhales through her nose, looking away. “It’s just… I thought you’d maybe consider staying. That something—someone—would make you stay.”

Your stomach twists. You don’t need her to say who she’s talking about. “Hana…”

She waves a hand, forcing a smile. “Forget it. It’s your choice. I just— I’m gonna miss you, that’s all.”

A lump forms in your throat, but you swallow it down, managing a small smile. “I’m gonna miss you too. We’ll still stay in touch, even after I find a job out there, I promise.” Your arms encircle her waist in a hug, to which she reciprocates. 

“I know,” she murmurs, squeezing you tightly. “But it won’t be the same.”

You rest your chin on her shoulder, taking in the familiar scent of coffee and vanilla that clings to her. “Nothing stays the same forever, Hana.”

She huffs a soft laugh, pulling back just enough to look at you. “Yeah, yeah. Look at you, all wise and mature now.”

You roll your eyes, nudging her playfully. “I’ve always been wise. You just refused to acknowledge it.”

Hana smirks. “Sure, sure. Just don’t forget about me when you’re off living your new fancy life.”

“Never.” You say it with conviction, and you mean it. No matter what changes, she’ll always be a part of your life. 

Hana studies your face for a moment before sighing. “Alright, enough of this sentimental crap. Let’s finish cleaning up before we open.” You laugh, but as you turn back to your task, you can’t help but feel the weight of her words settle deep in your chest.

You grab a rag to clean up the tables, but just as you do so, Hana’s phone that was laying up right near the register dings with a text message. You glance over carelessly, the ping catching your attention. But what you didn’t expect to see was someone’s name that sends bolts of frustration up your body. Brows knitting in the middle with your lip down turning. You lean forward to get a closer look, but the phone is being snatched from your vision. Looking up, Hana’s face has contorted into what you can assume is guilt, shoving the device in her back pocket. A moment of silence passes between you two.

“....Hana, why the fuck are you still texting Naoya?”

Hana stiffens, her fingers tightening around the rag in her hands. “It’s not what you think,” she mutters, turning away to wipe down the counter with unnecessary force.

Your stomach twists. “Not what I think?” You let out a humorless laugh. “Hana, I thought we agreed—no, you agreed—that he was bad news. That you were done with him.”

She exhales sharply, still avoiding your eyes. “I was done. I am done.”

“Bullshit.” You toss your rag onto the nearest table and cross your arms. “If you were done, you wouldn’t be hiding your phone from me like a guilty teenager.”

She finally looks at you, jaw tight. “It’s not that simple.”

Your patience is wearing thin. “It is that simple. You cut him off, like you said you would. You don’t let him manipulate you again, Hana. You don’t let him back in.”

She flinches at your words, and for a moment, you see the conflict flash across her face. Then, just as quickly, she schools her expression into something neutral, almost detached. “Look, I appreciate your concern, but this is my business. Not yours.”

You stare at her, feeling like you’ve just been slapped. “Not my business?” You shake your head in disbelief. “After everything he’s done? After how he treated you? You really think I’m just gonna stand here and pretend I don’t care? He left you to the wolves shitfaced and let you almost do hard drugs, Hana.”

Her gaze drops, but she doesn’t respond.

“Hana,” you say, softer this time. “Please. Tell me what’s going on.”

She hesitates, fingers curling at her sides. And then, in a voice barely above a whisper, she says, “He said he’s changed.”

Your breath catches. The frustration in your chest morphs into something heavier—something dangerously close to heartbreak. “Changed? You think a guy like that has changed within only a week or two?”

“He apologized, Y/N. He came over and—”

“You let him come over?” You scoff out in disbelief. 

Hana’s jaw tightens, but she doesn’t meet your eyes. “It wasn’t like that. He just… showed up. He wanted to talk.”

“And you let him in?” Your voice rises despite yourself, frustration bubbling over. “After everything he put you through that night, you actually listened to him?”

Her shoulders stiffen. “People can change, Y/N.”

“Not him,” you say flatly. “Not Naoya. You know that. We talked about this.”

She exhales sharply, gripping the rag like it’s the only thing grounding her. “You don’t get it.”

“No, I do,” you counter. “I get it too well, Hana. Because I was there. I was the one picking up the pieces. And now you’re telling me that a few days is all it takes for him to be a better man?” Hana stays quiet, but you can see the cracks forming in her expression—the doubt, the guilt. You take a deep breath, trying to steady your voice. “Look, I love you. And I know it’s hard to walk away from someone like him. But he hasn’t changed. He’s just found a new way to manipulate you. I don’t want you going through something like that again.”

Her lip trembles, and for a second, you think she might break. But then she forces out a bitter chuckle, shaking her head. “You always think you know what’s best for me, don’t you?”

You stare at her, caught off guard. “That’s not what this is about—”

“Isn’t it?” She meets your gaze now, eyes flashing. “You can’t control me, Y/N. I’m not some helpless kid who needs saving.”

Your heart sinks. “I’m not trying to control you, Hana. I just don’t want to see you get hurt again.”

She swallows hard, looking away. “I can handle myself.”

“Yes, you can. But I’m your friend, that’s what friends are for.”

“Are you my friend, Y/N?” She huffs out, throwing the rag on the counter and crossing her arms. “Because from what I see, it’s kind of hard to believe that. You rarely like coming out with me anymore, you take days to respond to my texts, and I only see you at work.”

Your jaw grits, putting your rag down. “It’s not like that. You know I’m busy with Koji, with Satoru, with everything. I’m trying to be here for you in every way that I can be.”

Hana scoffs, shaking her head. “Right. And somehow, ‘being here for me’ means judging me every time I make a decision you don’t like?”

Your chest tightens. “That’s not fair.”

“Isn’t it?” She throws her hands up. “I get it, Y/N. You have a whole life outside of this job—outside of me. And I’ve tried to be okay with it, I really have. But it just feels like… like I’m not a priority to you anymore.” Her words hit harder than you expect. You part your lips to argue, but nothing comes out. Because, deep down, you know she’s not entirely wrong. Hana exhales, her shoulders sagging. “I miss you, Y/N. And yeah, maybe Naoya isn’t the best decision. But at least he wants to be around me.”

That stings. More than it should. You run a hand through your hair, trying to gather your thoughts. “Hana…”

But she’s already turning away, grabbing the rag from the counter. “Forget it. We still have stuff to clean.”

The weight of it lingers as you watch her move away, your stomach twisting with something between guilt and frustration. But you’ve always been persistent. Your feet work with a mind of their own, following her to the section of booths in the corner. “Hana, stop this, okay?”

“Stop what?”

“Stop making stupid decisions, please.”

“So you can have a man who can give you anything under the sun, but when I do it, it’s wrong.”

You grab hold of her arm to stop her. “What the hell? Are you serious? Is that why you’re going after him? Because he has money. And Satoru and I aren’t even together, Hana. What are you talking about?”

“And so what if I’m doing it for the money?!” She yanks her arm back. “Why is it so fucking wrong of me to want security?”

“Because it’s shallow and not like you.”

Hana’s eyes flash with anger, and for a second, you think she’s going to snap. But instead, she takes a deep breath, clenching her jaw. “I’m not asking for your approval, Y/N. You’ve never understood me, and maybe you’re right, maybe I’m not the same person I used to be, but I’m doing what I think is best for me right now. You and Satoru have your perfect little world, but I don’t have that. I don’t even have my own damn apartment without scrambling for rent every month.”

Her words cut through the air, harsh and raw. You didn’t realize how much the frustration had been building for her until now. “I’m struggling too—”

“Not when you have a fucking billionaire baby daddy,” she swiftly interrupts you.

You feel a lump form in your throat, and the guilt from earlier rises again, twisting in your chest, biting your lip hard. "That's not fair, Hana. You know things aren’t perfect with him and me. You think just because things aren't goinging great for you, it's okay to throw everything you’ve built away for something that isn’t real?"

Hana exhales sharply, wiping her face with a frustrated hand. "You think I don’t know that? I’m just trying to survive, Y/N."

"Survive?" You step closer, your voice trembling. "You think this is survival? I’m not telling you what to do. But you're choosing him over us—over yourself. You know Naoya isn’t good for you. What happens when the money’s gone, or when he gets bored?"

Her eyes meet yours, hard and unflinching. "I don’t need your pity, okay? And I don’t need you to tell me what’s best for me. I’ll figure it out. I always do.”

For a long, tense moment, the silence hangs heavy between you two. You want to keep fighting, to say something that’ll make her see reason, but you don’t know if it’s worth it anymore. She’s made up her mind. “Hana…” you start, but she cuts you off, her tone icy.

“Just drop it, okay? I’m not going to continue having this argument with you.”

Your heart aches, but you nod, stepping back slowly. She won’t listen to reason right now. And maybe, just maybe, you’ve been pushing too hard. “Fine,” you mutter, your voice smaller than you want it to be. “Do what you want.”

Her gaze softens for a split second, but then it’s gone, and she turns away, heading back to the counter. You’re left standing there, feeling the distance between you both grow. Your chest feels hollow like something inside you has cracked wide open, leaving behind an aching, empty space. The sting of her words lingers, each syllable embedding itself into your skin like tiny, invisible splinters. You shouldn’t be this hurt—you shouldn’t care this much. But you do. Because it’s Hana.

She’s been by your side for these couple of years, through every high and low, through every moment when you thought you’d collapse under the weight of everything. And now, she’s slipping through your fingers, walking a path you know will only lead to heartbreak. You can feel her pulling away, and the worst part? You don’t know how to stop it. Frustration curls in your stomach, hot and tight, twisting into something almost unbearable. You want to shake her, make her see that she’s making a mistake. But deep down, there’s something else gnawing at you, something ugly and uncomfortable—doubt.

Maybe she’s right. Maybe you don’t understand her. Maybe, in trying so hard to protect her, you’ve been pushing her away instead. The realization is bitter, and it tastes like loss. Your fingers curl into your palms as you watch her retreat, her shoulders tense, her posture stiff with unspoken words. You could call after her, one last attempt to fix this. But your throat feels tight, and your voice is nowhere to be found. So instead, you just stand there, watching her go. Watching the distance between you grow wider, wondering if you’ll ever be able to close it again.

The rest of your shift had passed by with an awkward tenseness that even the other employees could notice. You clocked out without saying bye to Hana, heading home after calling off from your second job. You almost forgot you even invited Shoko over to help you pack until she rings your doorbell. Straightening yourself up, you push off the table and go to open the door. 

“Hey,” she greets, giving you a simple smile.

“Hey,” you reply back, stepping aside to let her in. A faint scent of cigarettes follows her inside as you close and lock the door. 

“So,” she begins, doing a small look around. “Where is he?”

You nod. “Koji! Come here, please!” A tiny pitter-patter of feet is heard, coming from his room and in front of you two. He looks up at Shoko, head tilting with curiosity. You crouch down to his height. “Koji, this my friend, Shoko.”

Koji blinks up at her, his big eyes studying her with an adorable mix of questioning and caution. He clutches the hem of his shirt, shifting on his feet as if trying to decide whether she’s someone worth trusting. Shoko, ever patient, crouches down a little and offers him a small, lazy wave. “Hey, kid,” she says, her tone light but warm. “I’ve heard a lot about you.”

Koji doesn’t say anything right away, still watching her like he’s figuring something out. You can tell he’s analyzing her the way he does with new people—quiet, observant, waiting to see if she’s friend or foe. You smile, reaching out to smooth down his hair. “She’s really nice, baby,” you reassure him gently. “And she’s gonna help me pack today.”

His eyes flick between you and Shoko before he finally nods, accepting the introduction in his own quiet way. Then, after a moment, he shifts closer to you, pressing a small hand against your knee like he’s making sure you’re still there.

Shoko tilts her head, amusement flickering in her gaze. “He’s a smart one,” she muses. “Doesn’t trust just anyone, huh?”

You chuckle softly. “Sometimes no. He takes a while to warm up to people.”

Koji stares at Shoko a little longer, then finally, with the tiniest voice, he asks, “Do you like dinosaurs?”

Shoko’s lips curve into a lazy grin. “Oh, I love dinosaurs,” she says without missing a beat. “Stegosaurus is my favorite.”

Koji’s eyes light up, his grip on your knee loosening as his excitement builds. “Me too!” he exclaims, his earlier hesitation already fading.

You let out a quiet breath, relieved to see him opening up. Shoko throws you a knowing glance before reaching into her pocket. “Wanna see something cool?” she asks, pulling out her phone. She taps on it a few times before turning the screen to him. “Look at this—real fossil pictures.”

Koji gasps, stepping closer, his tiny hands gripping the edge of her phone as he stares in fascination.

You shake your head with a soft laugh. “Well, I guess you’ve won him over.”

Shoko winks at you before looking back at Koji. “Guess that means I can stay, huh?”

Koji nods quickly, his earlier shyness completely gone. “Yeah! You can stay!” Your heart warms at the sight of them, a small, fleeting moment of peace settling over you. Even just for a little while, it feels like everything is okay.

Packing has never been your favorite thing to do. Having to look through year-old things, deciding if they’re worth staying in your life or not, buying boxes, the clutter that fills the place, everything about it is just exhausting. Shoko watches as you sigh, standing in the middle of your living room with your hands on your hips, surveying the mess of half-packed boxes, scattered clothes, and random trinkets from years past. "You look like you’re about to combust," she comments dryly, flopping onto your couch and lighting a cigarette.

You huff, rubbing your forehead. "I might. I hate this shit. It makes everything feel… real."

Shoko chuckles, watching you with an unreadable expression. "Because it is real," she says simply. "You’re leaving." 

Her words settle in your chest like a weight, heavy and suffocating. You know that. Of course, you do. You made this decision, you accepted the keys from Satoru, and you started packing. But now, as you hold a picture frame in your hands—one from a time when things were different, when you weren’t a single mother trying to keep everything together—it hits you all over again. You sit down on the floor with a tired sigh, staring at the photograph. It’s an old one, faded at the edges. Gojo's arm is draped around your shoulders, his usual grin on full display while you lean into him, laughing at something you can’t even remember anymore. It was before everything went to hell. Before Koji. Before the distance.

Shoko’s gaze flickers to the frame in your hands. "You keeping that?"

You swallow, fingers tightening around the frame. You should toss it. It’s just a relic of something that doesn’t exist anymore. But your hands won’t let go.

"...Yeah," you murmur, almost to yourself. "I think I am."

Shoko doesn’t say anything, just nods and leans back, letting you sit with your thoughts.

Packing has never been your favorite thing. But maybe, just maybe, there are some things worth holding onto. You place the picture frame into your box of memories, standing back up with a big exhale. 

“So, have you been looking for jobs near where you’ll be staying now?”

Her question briefly reminds you of the argument with Hana, but you have a good poker face. “Not yet, I mean, I was just thinking of doing the commute.”

“That’ll be far, won’t it?” She sits on the couch cushion.

You nod, tapping your finger along your elbow. “Yeah…or this one lady gave me her business card a while back. She said to call if I was interested, it might be closer to the new place, but I haven’t checked yet.”

“Oh, sick,” she nods, taking a sip from a glass of water you gave her earlier. “Why haven’t you called yet?”

“I—I don’t know. It seemed a little suspicious to me, just the way she came off. But maybe I’m just being superstitious.” 

Shoko raises an eyebrow, swirling the water in her glass. “Suspicious how?”

You shift your weight from one foot to the other, crossing your arms. “I don’t know… she was really persistent.’”

Shoko snorts. “Yeah, that’s how you end up in a pyramid scheme or an underground fight club.”

You roll your eyes but chuckle, shaking your head. “I mean, I doubt it’s that extreme. But something about it didn’t sit right with me. Maybe I’ll give her a call, though..”

Shoko shrugs. “Can’t hurt. Just don’t sign anything unless you know exactly what you’re getting into.” She leans forward, resting her elbows on her knees. “You’re gonna be okay, you know that, right?”

You blink, caught off guard by the sudden shift in conversation. “I mean, yeah. I hope so.”

She gives you a look—one of those knowing, slightly exasperated ones. “No. Not ‘I hope so.’ You will be.”

A lump forms in your throat at the certainty in her voice. Shoko wasn’t the type to say things just to make people feel better. If she said it, she meant it. You exhale, some of the weight in your chest loosening. “Yeah,” you say quietly. “I will be.”

She grins, leaning back into the couch again. “That’s the spirit. Now hurry up and finish packing before I start judging your terrible organization skills.”

You roll your eyes as you two get back to work. “Oh, and you don’t have to stay until nine anymore. Satoru said he’d help me when he gets off work.”

Shoko raises an eyebrow, a smirk tugging at the corner of her lips. “Oh? Satoru’s coming over to help you pack? How domestic.”

You groan, shoving a pile of clothes into a box with a little too much force. “Don’t start.”

“I didn’t say anything,” she says, raising her hands in mock innocence. “I just think it’s funny. You two aren’t together, but he’s making house calls to help you pack. Almost like—oh, I don’t know—a boyfriend would.”

You sigh, sitting back on your heels. “He’s just helping, Shoko. It’s his way of making up for lost time. And, you know… Koji.”

Shoko hums, taking another sip of her water. “Uh-huh. Sure. Just be careful, alright? Satoru has a way of worming his way back into places.”

You look at her, your stomach twisting a little at the implication. “I know.”

She doesn’t press any further, just gives you a small nod before grabbing another box. “Alright then. Let’s finish this up before your not-boyfriend gets here.”

You and Shoko actually end up doing some pretty good damage, clearing out most of the living room and kitchen within a couple of hours. The place is filled with half-sealed boxes, stacks of clothes, and random knickknacks you forgot you even owned. Koji occasionally tries to help out before going back to playing in his room, door open. The air smells faintly of cardboard and dust, and every so often, you hear the rip of packing tape as one of you secures another box. Shoko moves with practiced ease, taping up a box labeled kitchenware while holding a cigarette between her lips, the ash barely hanging on. “You sure you need all these mugs?” she asks, giving you a pointed look.

You glance at the open box filled with an assortment of cups—some gifted, some bought on impulse, and a few holding sentimental value. You chew your lip. “...Maybe.”

Shoko snorts. “I’ll take that as a no.” Without waiting for your response, she plucks a random floral-patterned mug and sets it aside. “This one’s cute, though. I’m keeping it.”

You shake your head with a small laugh before focusing on your own task—sorting through a box of old papers, receipts, and letters you should’ve thrown out years ago. Some of them you skim through, lingering on certain notes or reminders scribbled in the margins, while others you crumple up without a second thought. At one point, Shoko finds an old sweater buried at the bottom of a pile and holds it up. “Didn’t you steal this from Satoru?”

Your hands pause over a stack of mail as you glance at the familiar fabric. It’s an oversized hoodie, worn at the cuffs, with a faint scent of something you refuse to acknowledge clinging to it. You exhale, shaking your head. “Borrowed. And forgot to give back.”

Shoko raises an eyebrow but doesn’t push. Instead, she tosses it onto the “maybe” pile. “Right. Borrowed.”

By the time you finish packing up Koji’s toys that he hasn’t been playing with recently, the apartment looks emptier, more like a place in transition rather than a home. You stretch, your back aching slightly from crouching on the floor for so long. Shoko leans against the counter.. “So, when’s Satoru supposed to get here?”

You check the time on your phone, suppressing a sigh. “Soon, I think.”

She nods. “Good, I think I’m gonna head out now. I have a charcuterie board and some wine waiting for me at home.”

You scoff, shaking your head with a small laugh. “Of course you do.”

Shoko smirks as she grabs her coat. “What can I say? I have taste.” She slings her bag over her shoulder, stretching slightly before making her way to the door.

“Thanks for helping,” you say sincerely, following her.

She shrugs. “No problem. Besides, watching you stress-pack was mildly entertaining.”

You roll your eyes, but the fondness in your expression betrays you. “Yeah, yeah. Enjoy your wine and fancy snacks.”

“Always do,” she says with a lazy grin, stepping out into the hallway. “Oh, and tell Satoru I said hi.”

You hum noncommittally, leaning against the doorframe as she walks off. The second she’s out of sight, you sigh, rubbing your temples. The apartment is eerily quiet now, save for the occasional sound of Koji shifting in his room and the faint rustling of cardboard boxes.

And now, all that’s left to do is wait.

And waiting was what you did.

You should’ve assumed that when Satoru didn’t give you an exact time of when he’d be off of work, it would be late. You’ve already showered and changed into one of your comfortable nightgowns you have since a good majority of your other pajamas have been packed. Koji has been washed up also, getting him ready for bed. You read his favorite lullaby and kiss his cheek as he drifts off to sleep, silently peeling out the room and closing the door behind you. You won’t be moving out until hopefully a month from now, since your lease is month to month. But you’ve always enjoyed getting a head start on things, especially something as big as this. 

The apartment feels different now, half-packed boxes stacked in corners, the once-cozy clutter of everyday life slowly disappearing. You stand in the dimly lit living room, rubbing your arms as the silence settles over you. Moving still doesn’t feel real. You glance at the clock. Satoru still isn’t here. With a sigh, you walk into the kitchen, grabbing a glass of water. The faint hum of the refrigerator is the only sound accompanying you as you lean against the counter, tapping your fingers against the cool surface. Your mind drifts—back to your conversation with Hana, to Koji’s peaceful face as he slept. The weight of everything presses on your chest, but before you can dwell too much, a soft knock at the door pulls you back.

You already know who it is.

Setting the glass down, you push off the counter and make your way to the door, unlocking it with a quiet click. And when you open it, there he is—Satoru, standing in the dim glow of the hallway light, looking a little tired but still offering you a lopsided grin. His shirt is unbuttoned at the top, sleeves lazily rolled up, with black slacks and shoes. 

“Hey,” he says, voice lower than usual. Tired. 

“Hey,” you reply, stepping aside to let him in. “you’re a little late.”

“Yeah, sorry. Some stuff in the office, got held up.” 

You nod, not exactly surprised. You’ve grown used to his unpredictable hours, but it doesn’t make it any easier. “It’s fine. Just… been waiting around for you,” you mutter, rubbing the back of your neck as you lead him inside.

He gives you a look, something soft behind his usual nonchalant expression. "I know. I’m sorry about that."

"It's okay." You give him a faint smile, though it doesn't quite reach your eyes. "Koji's already asleep. I made sure to finish his bedtime routine before I started getting things ready here."

Satoru hums in acknowledgment, putting his jacket off and hanging it over a chair. His gaze drifts to the boxes scattered around the room, some already taped up and others half-opened. It’s a stark reminder of the transition you’re about to make, and you can tell he’s thinking the same thing, his face momentarily tight before he shakes it off. “I see you're making progress,” he says, stepping over to the couch and sitting down.

You lean against the doorframe, watching him with a small sigh. "Yeah, just... still a lot to do. Not sure where I’ll even begin with everything. Packing up a life feels… strange."

He looks up at you, his expression serious. “I get it.” His voice drops a bit, almost too soft, as if he’s carefully measuring his next words. “But you don’t have to do it alone. I’m helping, remember?”

The sincerity in his voice makes your chest tighten, and for a moment, you forget about the tension between the two of you, the things unsaid and still hanging in the air. “I know,” you whisper back. "Thank you."

“Don’t thank me too much,” he waves you off. “Where should we start?”

You glance around the room, the dim light casting soft shadows on the packed boxes. It feels like the room itself is holding its breath, just like you, waiting for something to break. "Well," you start, standing up and walking over to one of the piles of clothes, "I guess we could start with the things I don’t need immediately. Like these clothes." You pull out a few items, folding them quickly and placing them in the box. "That should make a dent in it."

Satoru watches you for a moment, then stands and stretches, clearly ready to dive in. "Alright, clothes it is. But if we're doing this, we're doing it right," he says, a glimmer of teasing in his tone. "I’ll help you with everything. You won’t even have to lift a finger."

You roll your eyes, but there’s a small smile tugging at the corners of your lips. "You’re acting like I can’t handle it myself."

"I know you can," he replies, his voice softening. "But if I’m here, let me do my part."

You hesitate for just a second, looking up at him. His offer feels real, no strings attached, and part of you wants to take him up on it. But the other part— the one that’s always been fiercely independent— resists. "Alright," you say finally, looking away to hide the conflicted thoughts running through your mind. "Start with the clothes, then we’ll see where we’re at."

He grins. "You got it."

And so, the two of you begin. It’s quiet at first, just the soft rustle of clothes and the occasional murmur from either of you. But with Satoru’s easy presence next to you, there’s a strange comfort in it. The tension between you both hasn’t disappeared, but it feels more manageable now. Like it’s being pushed aside, at least for tonight.

It’s a pretty peaceful endeavor. Of course, your eyes keep flickering over to the way his forearms clench tight, showing off his pretty web of veins as he lifts one box to stack on top of another. And of course, he can’t help but steal quick glances at your legs peeking out from your dress, or that cute little noise you make when you lift something. The silence between you two feels almost comfortable, but there's an undercurrent of tension that’s hard to ignore. You catch Satoru's gaze more than once, his eyes briefly lingering on you before darting away, as if he’s trying to shake off a thought that keeps circling back.

However, the air in the room feels heavier, charged with unspoken thoughts, though neither of you acknowledges it. Your movements become a little more deliberate, and more calculated, as if both of you are trying to stay focused on the task at hand. But it’s hard to ignore the quiet heat building between the two of you, a tension neither of you seems willing to break.

Every time you glance at him, there’s something different in the way he holds himself—more aware, like he's suddenly hyper-conscious of your proximity. It’s not the usual Satoru, the one with all the jokes and playful teasing. This Satoru is more subdued, like he’s fighting the urge to close the distance. You try to ignore it, pushing the box into its designated spot, but his gaze keeps catching yours. And when you don’t look away fast enough, the corners of his mouth curl, almost imperceptibly. That look, that silent acknowledgment of the way you’re both aware of the other... it makes your heart beat a little faster, a little harder.

You catch Satoru's gaze more than once, his eyes briefly lingering on you before darting away, as if he’s trying to shake off a thought that keeps circling back. And you can't seem to stop noticing the way his muscles move under his shirt, the flex of his arms, the casual grace in the way he lifts the boxes. He’s not even trying to look impressive, but it’s hard not to find something magnetic about the way he carries himself—like everything he does is effortless, even in the midst of something as mundane as packing up boxes.

You try to focus on your task, but the way your mind keeps wandering back to him—his presence so close, his every movement in your peripheral vision—makes it hard to concentrate. It’s like the room has shrunk, and all the air between you is charged with something unspoken.

"You're staring," Satoru says, his voice light, a playful hint in his tone. He lifts another box, his eyes meeting yours briefly. "Trying to get an up-close look at all this muscle, huh?"

Your cheeks warm, and you quickly glance away, pretending to straighten out a stack of books. "I wasn’t staring," you mutter, but there's no real conviction in your voice.

Satoru just smirks, clearly amused, but doesn’t push. Instead, he adds another box to the growing pile and turns his attention back to the task at hand. There's an ease in the way he works, but it’s also clear that he’s making a deliberate effort to keep the mood light. Maybe to balance out the underlying weight of everything else. The two of you fall into a quiet rhythm, the soft rustling of cardboard and the occasional clink of items being packed the only sounds filling the space. You don’t want to admit how much you’ve missed this—having him here, helping, being part of something so domestic. He moves through your space like he belongs, like he’s done this a million times before, and maybe that’s what unsettles you the most. Because there was a time when he did.

You kneel down to wrap some plates in newspaper, but Satoru beats you to it, his long fingers brushing against yours as he takes over the task. It’s brief, fleeting, but the contact sends a jolt through your skin, making you stiffen for just a second. If he notices, he doesn’t say anything—he just works, his movements efficient but unhurried.

More of Koji’s many toys are the next thing to go into a box, and you pause for a moment, running your fingers over the worn edges of a tiny action figure. It’s one of Koji’s favorites—one Satoru had bought him one time on a whim. You remember the way he handed it to your son with an easy grin, the way Koji’s face had lit up like it was the best gift in the world. Your chest tightens as you place it carefully in the box. “You okay?” Satoru asks, his voice softer now. You glance up to find him watching you, his usual playful demeanor replaced with something quieter, something real.

You nod, swallowing. “Yeah. Just… I don’t know. Packing makes things feel more real, I guess.”

He exhales, running a hand through his hair. “Yeah. I get that.”

For a moment, it feels like he wants to say more, but the words never come. Instead, he shifts his attention back to the stack of boxes, lifting one effortlessly and carrying it to the corner of the room. And then, something catches his eye. It’s stacked on top of the coffee table and he’s not sure how he didn’t recognize it earlier, but it’s distinct. The handwriting, the doodles, everything. 

“You still have that?” He juts his chin towards its direction.

You stop and look over, following his gaze to the precious box of memories your younger selves made. Your hands still over the box you were taping up, your eyes tracing the old box stacked neatly on the coffee table. It’s a little worn now, the edges fraying, the ink of your younger selves’ handwriting faded but still legible. The weight of nostalgia settles in your chest like a stone.

Of course, you still have it.

You glance at Satoru, catching the flicker of recognition in his expression. His usual carefree smirk is nowhere to be found—just something softer, more thoughtful, as he takes a step closer. “I didn’t think you’d keep it,” he murmurs, his fingers brushing over the lid.

You hesitate, swallowing past the sudden tightness in your throat. “Why wouldn’t I?”

Satoru exhales a quiet laugh, shaking his head. “I don’t know. Thought maybe… after everything, you would’ve tossed it.”

You know what he means. That box holds pieces of the past—old photos, handwritten notes, ticket stubs from nights you thought would last forever. Memories you both tried to move on from but never really could. You shrug, running a hand over the lid. “Some things are worth holding onto.”

His eyes flicker to yours, something unreadable in them. His fingers hover over the edge of the box, like he’s debating whether to open it. “Do you mind?”

You shake your head, and with careful hands, he lifts the lid and takes a seat at the couch. The moment he does, the past spills out between you—photographs with scribbled dates, pressed flowers long since dried, a crumpled receipt from that diner you both used to sneak off to.

A photo rests on top, slightly curled at the edges. It’s of you and Satoru, years ago, faces close together as you both made exaggerated, ridiculous expressions for the camera. His arm was draped around you, his signature grin in place. He looks through another few, one of you both wearing Ring Pops, a picture of you guys sitting underneath a tree, ones of you two kissing, and sweet, but cheesy cards with his writing on it.

You wonder if he remembers the moment any of them were taken. If he remembers how he stole your fries right after, laughing when you swatted at him. If he remembers how easy things used to be. He exhales slowly, running a thumb over the corner of the photo. “We were such kids,” he muses.

You smile faintly. “We were.”

For a moment, neither of you say anything. The weight of everything unspoken lingers in the air between you. The past, the present, the things you both wish you could take back—it’s all there, packed into a small shoebox of memories you never really let go of. And maybe, just maybe, neither did he.

Satoru flips through the photographs slowly, his fingers lingering on each one like they might disintegrate under his touch. His lips quirk up at a few—like the one of you wearing his sunglasses, pouting at the camera while he made a stupid face behind you. Or the blurry snapshot of a festival, fireworks exploding in the night sky above your laughing forms.  

But there’s one that makes his expression falter, something unreadable flickering in those bright blue eyes. It’s an old candid, one you don’t even remember being taken. You’re sitting cross-legged on the floor of what used to be his apartment, surrounded by scattered papers and empty takeout boxes. You’re mid-laugh, head thrown back, completely unguarded. And Satoru—he’s looking at you.  

Not at the camera. At you.  

His gaze in the photo is something raw, something unfiltered. And looking at it now, years later, it almost makes your breath catch. Satoru exhales, running a hand through his hair. “I forgot about this one.”  

You shift beside him, peering over his shoulder. “Me too.”  

Liar.  

You remember exactly when it was taken. You remember the warmth of that night, the way the two of you had spent hours talking about everything and nothing. You remember how he had looked at you then—like you were the only thing in the world worth looking at.  

And the worst part?  

You think, maybe, he’s looking at you the same way right now.  

You swallow, forcing a chuckle as you reach for another old memory. “Oh god, do you remember this?” You hold up a wrinkled concert ticket, the faded ink barely legible. “We got lost on the way home and ended up at that weird little gas station in the middle of nowhere.”  

His laugh is warm, genuine. “Yeah, and you made me go inside alone because you swore it looked haunted.”  

“It did look haunted.”  

“It was just old, Y/N.”  

You grin, nudging his arm. He nudges back, something familiar settling in between you both. Something easy. He looks down at another photo, one of you two curled up on what used to be his childhood bed, he’s taking the picture. You’re asleep on his shoulder, a small wet spot from what can only be your drool, as he sports a dorky grin. 

Your heart flutters at the way his eyes linger on your face, smiling in a way that makes you sit beside him, knees brushing together. “You always fell asleep so quick.” 

You chortle quietly. “Well, yeah. Your bed was comfier than mine.”

“It was. Comfier than my hotel from last night too,” he fakes a wince. 

You blink, head tilting. “You got a hotel? I thought you said you were going home.”

His lips purse, looking at you. “Yeah, well…I changed my mind.”

“Why?” Your eyebrows furrow in confusion. 

He hesitates, like he’s not sure he should tell you the truth, but ultimately decides to. “Well…I don’t know. I realized I didn’t really want to go home yet, but I didn’t want to be too far from you guys either, and I felt weird asking to stay.” He rubs his neck awkwardly.

Your breath hitches, and for a moment, all you can do is stare at him. His words settle into your chest, warm and heavy, lingering in places you’ve tried to ignore for so long. “You didn’t want to be too far…” you echo softly, letting the sentence trail off, like saying it out loud might make it feel realer.  

Satoru shrugs, but there’s something vulnerable in the way he does it—something unsure. “Yeah, I guess.” He looks down at the photo again, his thumb brushing absently over the image of your sleeping face. “I mean, it’s stupid, right?”  

You don’t know what to say to that. Because no, it’s not stupid. Not to you. You wet your lips. “You could’ve just…stayed here, you know.”  

He lets out a short chuckle, shaking his head. “Could I have?” His voice is quiet, careful.  

You hold his gaze. There’s an unspoken conversation happening between the two of you, the kind that doesn’t need words. The kind that comes with knowing someone for so long that silence says just as much as anything else.  

Finally, you look away, your fingers playing with the hem of your nightgown. “Yeah,” you murmur. “You could have.”  

The air between you shifts—something delicate, something dangerously close to feeling like before.  

Satoru exhales through his nose, rolling his shoulders like he’s trying to shake something off. “Well,” he says, forcing a smirk, “maybe next time I’ll take you up on that.”  

You give a small laugh, but it doesn’t quite reach your eyes. Because you don’t know if you mean it. If you could really handle him here, in your space, in your life, so close yet still so far.  But when he leans back against the couch, his arm brushing against yours, when he picks up another photo and grins at some long-forgotten memory—you think, maybe, you wouldn’t mind. 

He continues to indulge in the sacred beauties of what your past has to offer. It’s another quiet affair, words feeling too loud for such a fragile moment like this one. You smile when he does, laugh when he does at another cringey picture. And soon, his eyes begin to glaze over with emotion. Your eyes widen slightly at the sight, a small gasp almost falling from your lips at the rawness he’s so willingly showing right now. Instead, you say nothing, biting hard on your lip and forcing your eyes on your hands in your lap. 

“Y/N…” he murmurs.

When you look back up, he looks like he’s barely holding it in.

“I…I just…I….I’m not happy. With everything, myself, with—with what I’ve done and said before. It’s been haunting me so much nowadays and no matter what, I can’t help myself. I feel guilty, disgusted, and…and I regret it. A lot. I’ve been confusing you, but myself too. I feel like I disappoint every single time, no matter what….I’m so sorry.”

You don’t even know how to respond to that for a few seconds. You gulp, finally finding your voice. “Satoru….” You whisper, trying to find the right words. “I—I should be the one telling you that.”

“You have before.”

“I know, but it doesn’t make up for my mistakes, either.”

“It doesn’t. But I’ve been hearing you apologize so much recently, it’s time you hear mine.”

The weight of his words hangs heavy in the room, thick with the kind of sincerity that makes your chest tighten. You try to process it, try to let the impact of his confession settle into something that makes sense. But the words seem to fall short—guilt, regret, disgust. The rawness in his voice cuts deeper than you expect, unraveling something you didn’t know was tied up inside you.

His eyes are full of turmoil, and you can see how much it costs him to open up like this. His usual confidence, the front he wears so easily, is nowhere to be found. In its place is a vulnerability so unguarded that it almost frightens you. And in this quiet, fragile moment, it feels like time slows down. 

“I’ve heard your apologies, Satoru,” you whisper, voice barely audible. “But you don’t have to keep apologizing. Not for this.”

His expression falters for a second, a flicker of confusion crossing his features. "But—"

You shake your head, a soft smile tugging at your lips, though it doesn’t feel like enough to wipe away the heaviness in the room. “I’m not perfect either, Satoru,” you continue, your voice gaining strength with each word. “We both made mistakes. And I’ve hurt you too. But we’ve hurt each other.” He looks like he wants to argue, but you press on, finding courage in his honesty. “I’ve been holding onto the past just as much as you have. I can’t change it, but I need to stop pretending it doesn’t still affect me. It’s been haunting me too. But I can’t keep holding onto it. Not if I want to move forward. We’re older now, wiser, more mature. There’s Koji, and…and I don’t want things to feel…horrible between us. I want us to find peace together.”

Satoru swallows hard, and the muscles in his jaw tighten. His hand reaches for his forehead, rubbing it like he’s trying to push the weight of everything out of his mind. “I don’t know what to do, Y/N. I’m trying. But it feels like I keep screwing up.”

“I know,” you say quietly. "We both do." The words are out there, and now all that’s left is to let them breathe. Neither of you can change the past, but maybe...you can learn to let it go. 

He nods slowly, as if trying to absorb it all, and after a moment of silence, he looks back at you. His eyes are tired, but there's something softer in them now, something hopeful. He wipes his eyes. "I don't know where we go from here, but I don’t want to keep running from it."

Your heart stutters in your chest. You don’t know what the future holds either, but for the first time in what feels like forever, you feel the weight of the past starting to lift, even if just a little. "Me neither," you whisper, your voice shaky with emotion. "But maybe we can figure it out."

“Together.”

“Together.”

His lips curve up into a genuine smile full of nothing but warmth, adoration. The smile he gives you is like the first rays of sunlight after a storm, bright and full of life. It’s soft, unguarded—something you haven’t seen in a long time. It reaches his eyes, a spark of something familiar and comforting that makes your chest tighten in a way you haven’t felt in ages. The weight that’s been hanging between you both, the heavy unspoken truths, start to feel a little lighter.

You find yourself leaning into the moment, your breath steadying as his gaze softens, his hand subtly inching closer to yours. He doesn’t push it, but the offer is there, unspoken, a silent invitation to bridge the distance that’s always seemed too wide. You could almost hear the quiet rhythm of your heart in the silence between you, pulsing steady and sure.

“I know there’s some things that don’t call for forgiveness, I understand that. It goes both ways. But I want you to know that I want to be better for Koji, and for you. I want to be here for you, even if it’s just to co-parent.” He says. 

Your heart skips a beat at his words, the sincerity in his voice almost overwhelming. It’s like he’s finally seeing the bigger picture, the shared weight of the past, and the future that still holds a flicker of possibility. His willingness to be better for both Koji and you feels like a balm on a wound that’s been open for far too long. You look down at your hands, fingers trembling slightly as the gravity of the moment presses on your chest. You had always known that, beneath all the tension and mistakes, there was something worth salvaging, but hearing him admit it brings a kind of clarity you didn’t know you needed. 

“Maybe,” you start, your voice faltering for a second, “maybe we don’t need to fix everything all at once. But I think we can make it work. For him, and for us... no matter what it looks like.” 

You glance up, meeting his gaze. There’s an unspoken understanding between you two, the kind that doesn’t need words. He’s no longer just apologizing—he’s actively offering a future where you’re both better versions of yourselves, learning, growing, and being there for Koji. The idea of co-parenting with him, of sharing that responsibility and maybe even more, feels like the first step toward something that might just heal all the old wounds. You don’t know what the future holds, but for once, it doesn’t feel as daunting as it did before.

The air between you thickens with every breath, heavy and charged. The weight of what he said lingers in your chest and you begin to forget about everything else. It’s just you and him, the past and the future all blending together in this shared space. You can feel his presence more than you ever have before—closer than ever, his warmth radiating off of him, his gaze never leaving yours.

Satoru shifts slightly, his knee brushing against yours, sending a spark up your spine. It’s not just the physical closeness; it’s the way the emotional tension seems to stretch and wind itself tighter, knotting in your gut. His eyes flicker down to your lips, just for a split second, but it’s enough to make your heart race, to make your breath hitch in your throat. You inhale shakily, eyes darting between his eyes and his lips, unsure of whether it’s the right moment. His hand, almost instinctively, moves toward yours, brushing the back of your fingers lightly. It’s barely a touch, but it sends a wave of heat flooding through your body.

"Y/N..." He says your name in a low, almost desperate whisper. It's a quiet plea, and it’s as if he’s asking for permission—permission to cross that line, to go past the familiar territory you’ve shared for so long.

You’re frozen in place, caught between the pull of your past and the undeniable attraction of the present. Your pulse quickens, and for a moment, all the doubts, the reservations, the walls you’ve built, seem so far away. “Is this...” You start, but the words die on your tongue, replaced by the sudden proximity of his face to yours. His breath is warm against your skin, sending a shiver down your spine.

He doesn’t need to answer. His eyes tell you everything you need to know—the vulnerability, the desire, the hope, all wrapped up in the way his lips hover just inches from yours.  Your hand slowly finds its way to the side of his neck, your thumb brushing against the soft skin of his pulse, a silent invitation.

Time seems to stand still for what feels like an eternity. Both of you internally weighing out the pros and cons of this situation, but all you can come up with are the pros. You’re not sure who moves first—whether it’s him leaning in, or you, but in the next moment, his lips are on yours, tentative at first, as if he’s waiting for you to pull away. 

But you don’t. You don’t pull away.

The kiss deepens, slow but insistent, the taste of him, the feel of his mouth, everything feels so raw and real, like you’ve both been starved for this connection. Every lingering touch, every brush of skin, sends a flood of emotions coursing through you. His head tilts, cupping his hands against your cheeks. It’s not just the kiss—it’s everything that’s been left unsaid, the apology, the longing, the shared history—it’s all colliding in this single moment.

And even though it’s a long time coming, you know it’s about what comes after, the mess and the beauty of what you’ve both been through. But for now, all you can focus on is him—the way he feels against you, the way everything else seems to fall away, leaving just the two of you.

His head pushes closer, kissing you with a tender firmness that has you encircling your arms around his neck to bring him closer. Happily, he scoots closer to you, one hand drifting down to your waist. His tongue swipes gently across your bottom lip and you part your lips. The wet muscles invades your mouth in a way that feels so reminiscent. Your tongue tangle together in a sensual, slow dance. 

Subconsciously, you’re leaning more and more back until your back hits the couch cushion. He’s hovering above you now, the hand that was on your cheek planting itself beside your head to keep his stability. You nibble gently at his lower lip, the low moan he lets out makes you feel so embarrassingly warm.

After a few minutes, he pulls back for air, practically panting. Your lips are red, kiss-swollen. Looking up at him with wide eyes like you can’t believe what just happened. He’s almost beginning to question whether he misread the situation but he glances down, noticing the way your legs part for his body to slot between. 

The moment hangs between you two, thick with unspoken understanding, as if neither of you wants to break it but both of you are struggling to catch your breath. Your chest rises and falls in time with his, and your mind races, unsure if you should stop or let this continue. But the way his body is so close to yours, the heat radiating between you, the warmth of his hand on your waist, makes it hard to think clearly. 

His eyes flicker between your lips and your eyes, searching for any sign of hesitation. But all he sees is the way your chest heaves, the flush of your skin, and how your body silently shifts beneath him as if you're inviting him closer without needing to say a word. Satoru’s hand remains by your head, bracing himself, but his other hand trails a path along your side, grazing the curves of your body, feeling the pulse of warmth beneath your skin. He leans down again, his lips brushing against your ear before trailing a kiss down to your neck, a soft sigh leaving your lips. His touch is gentle but possessive, as if he’s reclaiming something that’s always been his, as if this was meant to happen all along.

You tilt your head back, giving him more access, your fingers threading through his pale hair, pulling him closer. You can feel the way his heart races against your chest, matching the intensity of your own. His lips find yours once more, and this time, the kiss is more urgent, more demanding, as if he’s trying to make up for all the time that was lost between you two. It’s overwhelming, the way your body responds to him. You’re caught between wanting more and wanting to hold onto this fragile moment, the one where everything feels right, despite the potential mess that surrounds it. Every touch, every kiss, sends a jolt of electricity through you, reminding you of the connection that has always been there, buried deep beneath the surface.

But you pull back for a brief second, your breath shaky, trying to regain control of your racing heart. “Satoru...” Your voice is barely above a mutter, and his name on your lips feels like a whispered confession.

His eyes darken, and he leans in again, his forehead pressing against yours. “I’m not going to rush you, Y/N. I just need you to know…” His words trail off, but the intensity in his gaze is enough to fill the silence. 

You’re both teetering on the edge of something that could change everything. But in this moment, it’s not just about the kiss, or the heat between you two—it’s about the vulnerability, the trust that you’ve both allowed to fill the spaces that have been vacant for so long. And as his lips brush yours again, you can’t help but wonder if this is the beginning of something new—or the rekindling of something that was always meant to be. “I know,” you murmur against his lips. 

“Good,” he gives you one last lingering kiss, before titling his head down your jaw, kiss after kiss pants your smooth skin until it reaches your neck. Soft nibbles and sucks make your body feel like it’s on fire. A small moan leaves you, and you feel the way his lips smile against your neck. He reaches a particularly sensitive spot, your back arching into his body. He hums in acknowledgment, like he’s silently applauding himself for getting it right after all this time still. 

The sensation of his lips on your skin sends a rush of heat through your body, every kiss and nibble sparking a fire deep within you. The tender yet possessive way he touches you makes your head spin, and you can’t help but sink further into the feeling of him, his hands pulling you closer, his breath warm against your neck. His lips never stop moving, finding every spot that makes you shiver, every place that makes your body hum with need.

You grip his shoulders tighter, urging him closer, your fingers digging into the fabric of his shirt as if holding on to something real amidst the storm of emotions flooding you both. His touch is a contradiction—gentle yet firm, warm yet filled with an intensity that makes it impossible to pull away. “Do you remember how we used to…” He doesn’t finish the thought, his voice a low whisper against your skin, but the way he pulls back to look into your eyes tells you everything you need to know. His eyes are dark, pupils dilated, a quiet desperation there that matches the frantic rhythm of your heart. 

You swallow thickly, barely able to form words. “I do…” you breathe out, your voice shaky as you push yourself closer to him, your lips nearly brushing his as you speak. 

His hand slides lower, resting at your hip, fingers pressing into your skin with a possessiveness that leaves no room for doubt. The heat between you two builds with every passing second. You wonder how you’ve gotten here, so tangled in each other’s arms, so lost in the intensity of everything that’s been left unsaid between you. His lips find yours again, more urgent now, as if he can’t wait any longer, as if this is everything he’s been craving. Your body responds instinctively, your hands moving to undo the buttons of his shirt, and in that moment, there’s no hesitation, no uncertainty—just a shared understanding that this is something more than just a kiss, more than just a fleeting moment. With each kiss, with each touch, the tension between you both only grows stronger, and you can’t help but ponder the idea of how much longer you’ll be able to hold back.

“Missed this….missed this….god…” he groans into your mouth. 

And you’re suddenly reminded of the fact that your son is sleeping peacefully in his room, the walls aren’t very thick ,and this—this should not be happening right now. It’s not right; you two aren’t even together, he has a fucking girlfriend, for crying out loud. 

What are you doing? What are you doing? What are you doing?

Your body feels jittery with nerves and anticipation, the reality of the compromising situation settling in. Are you technically homewrecking right now? Or are you innocent because technically…he knows where his real home is. His lips against you feel nostalgic, but even better than what you remember. Heart pounding in your chest, breathing short—panting and he’s barely done anything.

You’re brought down back to Earth when a sneaky, warm palm squeeze softly at the inside of your thigh. You gasp unintentionally, hand shooting out to grip his wrist weakly. Half-lidded gaze meeting yours, his face is the epitome of a man on the brink of losing it.

The grip of your hand around his wrist caused a shiver to run down his spine. He liked the way you could feel how quick his pulse was, how excited he was to put his hands on you. He shifted you further back, lifting the back of your head up to lay it onto the pillow. His head bowed, his mouth hovering over your pulse point, but pausing just before he could touch you. “Let me just have a taste,” he murmured. “I won’t go any further. I just…I need this. Please.”

“Y-you always say that…” you manage to breathe out. 

“And usually I stick to that.”

Usually. 

His lips connect with your neck once more. He presses an open-mouthed kiss to your skin, and his grip on your thigh and wrist tightened slightly. His tongue flicks over your pulse, and he places a second kiss, and a third. He moves down your neck, pressing kisses and soft, sharp nips to your skin. He wanted to mark you. “Just a taste.”

You find yourself barely contemplating—the rate at which you’re actually answering his shocking request baffles you. But you can’t bring yourself to care about the consequences of your choices right now—just trying to feel. A shaky nod. 

Honestly, fuck his girlfriend. 

His speed is fast, movements quick and hurried like he can’t wait, like he’s just been given permission to take a bite of his favorite sweet that he hasn’t had in so, so long. You gasp when he’s moving down your body, lifting your legs up by the back of your thighs and over his shoulders—his head finding placement between your thighs. 

“Thank you, thank you,” he whispered, his voice breathy and eager. The moment you nodded he was all over you.

He’s keeping your legs hoisted up, pushing your dress up and out of the way. He positions himself to lay on his stomach between your legs, his hands running up and down your thighs. The position is almost comical to you, his large frame barely fitting onto the small couch you own. But it’s his determination—his desperation that’s keeping you going. 

He was already breathing heavily, desperate. And he was still begging. “Just a taste.” he repeated. “Just a small one.”

He noses at your thigh, inhaling your perfect scent. Your hand finds rightful placement between his strands, looking down at the way he bunches your nightgown at your hips, revealing a pair of….plain granny panties. 

Immediately, you cringe. Legs moving to close shut, but his hold on them keeps them wide open for him to sniff at your heat like a dog. “So good….so pretty…”

Your cheeks feel hotter than your entire body, flooding with embarrassment as he continues to smell. His warm breath hitting you through the material and you flinch. “S…Satoru….I’m sorry…”

“For what?” His voice is muffled, but his eyes still flicker up to meet yours. 

“F-For not being better prepared. I’m sorry,” you gulp. 

He scoffs, kissing your inner thigh. “What are you talking about? You think I care about that? You know me, Y/N. You could have the biggest bush known to man with decade old underwear and I’d still want some of you.”

You grimace. “Satoru!”

He chuckles softly, kissing the crease of your thigh. His fingers softly rub your plush skin, easing your tense body. You let out a big puff of air, eyes raising up to the ceiling when he moves back to your underwear. Giving you a tiny kiss above the fabric, you bite your lip. Your fingers slowly begin to rub at his scalp, he momentarily stops as he basks in your touch. Humming in approval. 

“….please don’t stop,” he whispers, followed by his fingers latching onto the hem of your underwear. 

You let out a shaky sigh, hips lifting slightly to help him. He pulls down the fabric in a methodical way, giving you enough time to register what’s happening and possibly pull away if you feel like it. Again, you don’t pull away. The granny panties move down your legs until he’s tossing it to the side on the floor. And once his eyes zero in on your glistening cunt waiting for him, his pupils dilate ever wider (if possible). “Wow,” he sighs in fascination. 

His stare always makes you feel bare, but especially now. You can’t help feeling self-conscious about the way you look down there. Not that there’s anything wrong, but you know he’s been intimate with another woman. Your mind swirls with implications that he’s secretly hiding his disgust behind a dopey smile and mesmerized, gleaming eyes. Your hips twitch. “I—sorry.”

“For what?” He asks again.

“If I look different.”

“You look as beautiful as you always do, maybe even more,” he replies easily, the sight of your pussy capturing his full attention as he leans closer. “Can I show you, please? I love it so fucking much.” 

God, his mouth. His bright blues make eye contact with you once more, waiting for an answer. Finally, you nod. “…yes, Satoru.”

And that’s all the confirmation he needs. You gasp out as he dives in, sucking first at your puffy clit that peeks at him. Instinctively, your fingers tighten around his hair, hips jerking up, but he pushes them back down. He moans when your sweet taste melts on his tongue like ice cream, tongue prodding and swirling in circular motions. Your head tilts further back, mouth agape, trying to keep up with his speed. 

But you never could. 

“S-sa—” you’re cut off when he spits roughly, subsequently whimpering in a shivering manner when his tongue enters your squeezing hole. “F-fuck…oh….fuck, Satoru.”

“So good,” his tone sounds like a whine, fingers tightening around your thighs while he forces you closer to his mouth, almost like he’s trying to suffocate himself in you. His mouth works your pussy in a way that makes you see stars, pleading for more. 

His teeth nibble very softly at your clit, followed by a wet kiss, and then a slobbery suck. He’s always worked messy, your wetness drowning his face in it, running down until it pools onto the cushion beneath you. He shoves his face deeper, the tip of his perky nose poking your nub while his mouth focuses on your hole. He tilts his head, almost like he’s french kissing your pussy, moaning and mumbling nonsense. You make out small things like ‘so good’, ‘yes, please, yes’, and ‘how fucking good you taste’. 

You bite down on your free hand to keep your noises within hold, but of course, that proves meaningless against Satoru’s ruthless mouth. “A-ah…S-Satoru…I—”

His tongue moves back into your quivering hole, feeling the way you squeeze and he can only wonder how good that would feel against his hard cock that he’s rutting shamelessly into the cushion. Your thighs close around his head, eyes rolling back when a familiar warmth coils at your lower gut, hips jerking and toes curling up. 

He senses it, doesn’t need to ask. 

He continues his ministrations, making noises that sound so fucking obnoxiously hot that you feel a countdown until your warm cum oozes out in such a captivating way. He’s lapping it all up, not letting a single drop go to waste. Your chest heaves, panting like you’ve just run a fucking mile. Even after you’ve cum on his tongue, he’s still eating you like he’s starving. 

You whine and whimper, pulling at his strands. “Satoru…c-can’t….ngh….”

“Just…a little…more…” he pants. 

And you honestly have no objections. Even if you feel overstimulated, even if you wish he’d give your pussy a damn break from his vicious mouth. It’s all worth it in the end when he pulls back, his mouth and chin coated in your juices. 

And he still looks like he hasn’t had enough. 

It’s a sight that feels straight out of a romance novel. A man so desperately yearning for a simple eating that he looks almost crazed. But to him, it’s not simple. It’s everything. Every part of you is everything to Satoru. Your reactions are a bonus, your hazy eyes, parted mouth, strands of hair sticking to your forehead…it’s all worth it. 

His eyes tear up again, a broken laugh falling from his lips. “Beautiful. Always have been, always will be.”

You can’t speak, offering a noncommittal huff. 

He leans down, kissing the corner of your mouth. You stick your tongue out, faintly tasting yourself. He gives another to the tip of your nose, for forehead, then finally your lips before he’s nuzzling his face into the side of your neck. 

Your chests meet each other in timed rises, arms feeling limp as you wrap them around his neck. No words are spoken, just allowing yourselves to be present in the moment—in each other’s touch. 

“Thank you,” he mumbles against your neck. 

Your throat is dry as you respond. “…m…mhm…”

He laughs again, softer this time. Feeling his arms loop around your waist and tugging your body closer to his like he’s trying to fuse you two. He inhales deeply. “…can I stay?”

You breath out, fanning his ear. “Yes, please.”

His smile is ever-present, letting his eyes flutter closed. Your arms tighten around him, bringing him as close as physically possible. He lets you do so. 

The silence between you two feels comfortable, almost like the world outside this moment has fallen away. You can hear the steady rhythm of his breath, and the way his body feels against yours makes you realize just how much you've missed him—his presence, his warmth. His hand runs gently up and down your back, a soothing, almost instinctual motion, and you feel your heartbeat steady with it. The vulnerability, the tenderness in his touch, it's as if he's trying to make up for the lost time, showing in every quiet movement how much he's there, how much he cares.

"Are you okay?" His voice is soft, and there's an undercurrent of something raw in it.

You nod against his shoulder, not trusting your voice for a moment. The weight of everything—the past, the future, the unsaid words—feels less heavy in this space, this fragile moment where nothing is expected of you. You just are, and for the first time in what feels like forever, that’s enough.

“I am now," you whisper, holding onto him just a little tighter, as if you’re afraid that if you let go, this peace might slip away. He hums in agreement, his fingers tracing light patterns on your skin. 

As you drift off to sleep, you don’t question the dampness of the tears you feel hit your neck or the way his breath hitches. 

a/n: hi guyssss! thank you for ur patience. I'm a little self-conscious about my transitions between scenes in this chap and i wish i could’ve dragged out the mom scene more but the wc was looking 🫣🫣🫣 anywho I really hope u enjoyed :)

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[ghiblinsm]

new Fandom addition✌️

Lowkey...yeah. I kinda wanna write about being Jimmy's slight femcel inventor daughter....thoughts?

Like, HARD ANGST to. You hate him but you're like him...

[sevsgiirl]

— piss her off ‘til she hates me, pt. 3 (final)

pt. 1, pt. 2

mechanic!sevika x reader. men and minors dni.

synopsis: when the vacant house next to sevika’s finally got new tenants she didn’t think much of it. as long as her new neighbors didn’t cause any trouble, all was well. that is until she found out the neighbor had a young daughter.

word count: 9k words.

tags: age difference, alternate universe, mechanic!sevika, brat!reader, enemies to lovers, oral sex, dom!sevika, sub!reader, pet names, scissoring, hate sex, vaginal fingering.

note: anddd we’re on the final! I hope you guys enjoyed this little fic I wrote. it’s my first ever fic writing for sevika and I originally posted this on ao3 but thought I’d bring it here to tumblr as well <3

you can check out the fic playlist here.

you need to get the hell out of here.

you were becoming a problem and sevika doesn’t know how much more she can take until she starts losing her mind. you were loud, reckless, inconsiderate, had a questionable way of dressing yourself (who the fuck wears fishnet stockings and skirts in this weather?) and most importantly-

you were way too fucking young for her to be thinking about you like this.

lewd, pervasive thoughts crept into the back of sevika’s mind shortly after you caught her gawking at you. she wanted the ground to swallow her whole, not only because she has to explain to you why you caught her eyeing you like a raw piece of meat, but also because she had to sit down and reflect why seeing you in that state - naked, alone and oh so, vulnerable - caused her heartbeat to quicken.

she tossed and turned on her bed unable to sleep, visions of your skin and how soft it looked plagued her thoughts. the small curve of your spine while you stared at yourself in the mirror, acting all timid which was a juxtaposition to your usual bold behavior.

sevika bit her lip at the thought. maybe there were layers to you she didn’t know about yet - layers she’d have to admit she wanted to unravel piece by piece.

perhaps underneath the confident persona you put up, hid a needy and bratty girl who just compensated for the lack of attention she got by being loud and intolerable. that should explain it.

why every time sevika didn’t pay you any mind you insisted on pushing her buttons just to get a reaction. how you clearly reveled in being told no and disobeying.

it annoyed the shit out of her and she’s imagined many times putting you in your place, and how the only thing up for debate was her method of doing so.

when she let her mind linger on the idea, all she could think about was how she could bring out that same shyness she saw in you earlier. maybe if she pushed you hard enough she could do it.

push you down onto your knees rather while gripping your hair. tight enough that it’ll cause your eyes to water, pleading with her that you won’t disobey her again after being such a goddamn headache.

she can picture it now. slipping a thumb into that annoying mouth of yours so she can shut you up while you suck on it, feeling you drool by the corners as you let your tongue swirl languidly around the thick digit, imagining just how better it’d feel if it was her strap buried deep into your throat while she pushed it in and out of your warm mouth until you found it difficult to breathe. maybe then you’d learn to behave.

sevika’s throat bobbed as she envisioned throwing you harshly onto her bed, legs spread while you looked up at her with glossy eyes. she found herself unbuckling the belt around her hips, thoughts of you swimming in the darkest corners of her mind while she pulled her pants down until it bunched up around her feet and she snaked a hand down into her boxers.

feeling just how wet she’d gotten imagining you writhing on her sheets, soft sighs and pathetic whimpers leaving your mouth while she’d plunge two to three fingers in and out of your tight hole.

then she’ll push you by the arch of your back and your thighs will grow moist by the abundance of slick she’ll coax out of you. sevika lets out a groan as she rubbed circles onto her clit, visions of your naked form taped onto the back of her eyelids while she slipped a finger in and gave her poor pussy its needed stimulation.

the rhythm of her touch started slow and her eyes fluttered shut - thinking about getting on all fours and gripping the meat of your thighs while she ate you out. doing it at her own pace and teasing you until you start whining, demanding she go faster but it’s not like you deserve it, do you? after how you’ve been acting.

how she’ll lap you up with her tongue and take her time with you like you’re a meal needing to be savored. god, just imagining how you would taste drove her insane.

her chest began to rise and fall as images of your fucked out face came to mind - with tears streaming down your cheeks while you babble out incoherent nonsense. telling her to go harder, faster, to handle you in whichever way she likes.

the pace of her fingers quickened, and the slow build-up of a climax started to unfurl deep in her abdomen, feeling the throes of her pleasure soar as she became just as desperate as you were in the sick little fantasy she conjured up in her head.

how after she’s finished eating you out she’ll pull out her strap and slide it into your needy cunt, watching you beg for it while little cries of pleasure slip past your lips.

a litany of promises of how you’ll be good. that you won’t disobey her again and that you’ll do better than to talk back and test her patience, and how she’ll reward you with every harsh snap of her hips until the tip of her strap reaches so far into your insides that all you see is white.

how your nails will claw down her back and leave a trail of scratches that’ll sting so good. with that, she felt something in her snap as her orgasm consumed her.

moaning loudly, sevika felt herself leak down onto her sheets. surprising even herself at just how much came out of her, at how much the thought of you alone immobilized her, she could barely feel her limbs as exhaustion slowly overtook her. she couldn’t even find it in herself to feel ashamed about what she’s done before she fell asleep.

but little did she know, that right across her window and into your bedroom, was you writhing just as pathetically on your bed while you drew orgasm after orgasm out of your pussy. trying to repress the noises you so desperately wanted to let out in case your father would hear. you pushed in and out the lengthy dildo in your sopping cunt, your cum coating it to the hilt as your body shook.

meanwhile, sevika’s name tingled just at the tip of your tongue.

𐙚 ˙ ⋆ .˚

she couldn’t bear to look at your father in the eyes after that.

she felt guilty, so fucking guilty because here your old man was being nice to her and what does she do? act like a creep around his daughter and fantasize about fucking you into her mattress?

it was shameful but it’s not like she could push it down and ignore it. until now she still hasn’t been able to. too caught up in how she’s been obsessing over you since. she knew her agitation towards you stemmed from genuine annoyance, but she’s speculated there was more it than that.

how you’ve vexed her without even knowing it. sevika may be in denial but she wasn’t a liar. she’s caught herself many times in the past eyeing you way too long. how some of your clothes were way too short and revealed slithers of skin so intimate it made the insides of her mouth dry up.

how she’d watch you from her porch while you sun bathed on your front lawn. nothing but a thin bikini on as on-lookers, mainly boys around your age, stopped to stare as she glowered at them until they ran off. she wanted to justify it thinking she just wanted to do good by your father, but by the way she’d continue to let her gaze linger on the deep plunges of your cleavage she realized she was full of shit and wasn’t any better.

still, it was wrong and so she avoided you. even when you continued to litter on her yard and blast your annoying music, she ignored it and didn’t waste any time confronting you or telling you to keep it down.

you knew the reason for it too. you weren’t stupid. it irked you beyond belief because it’s not like it was a big fucking deal? she caught you half naked, so what? now here she was acting like you’re a deadly virus she needed to avoid. truth be told, as much as the two of you got under each other’s skin, seeing that exasperated look on her face as she took the trash out and heard your alternative pop rock music blasting loudly from your room made your day.

plus you’d never admit it, but you’ve noticed the way she’s stared at you. even though her actions spoke otherwise you couldn’t ignore the tension between you and how that only got amplified by how she’d get up in your face and tell you to fuck off.

you found enjoyment in it, and now she’s not doing it anymore. you hated to feel this way but it almost made you feel unwanted.

so much so that you didn’t even bother blasting your speakers anymore, which made sevika curious but decided to brush it off while she continued fixing her car engine outside her house, oil and grease lathered onto her forearms as she positioned herself beneath the vehicle, giving you a good view of her muscles and the way her abs rippled underneath her shirt.

she was annoying but dear god, was she hot.

you couldn’t stand it.

you walked closer to where she laid on the ground, covering the streaks of sun that bounced off her glistening brown skin and she wondered about the silhouette that suddenly casted itself over her. she then pushed herself from beneath the car only to be met with the sight of you, ever so curious.

“I need to borrow a screwdriver,” you said with your arms clasped behind your back, staring down at her expectantly.

sevika took a moment to process your request before she let out a scoff, resuming her task and you frowned at her ambivalence “fuck off, princess.”

“I mean it,”

“yeah sure, and let’s all just act like the tools mounted on your dad’s garage isn’t there but somehow my tiny tool box is more of use to you.” she quipped back. she’s been invited there before when your father asked her for help to fix his generator.

you huffed “his screwdriver is uh… dull now.”

“and you’ve become less insufferable. see? we can all lie. now scram.”

you wanted to throw that tool box on her head. why was she being so stubborn and ignoring you? you hated it but you refused to back down, even when she continued fixing her car and not paying you any mind.

“I told you, I’m not-“

“why haven’t you been paying me any attention lately?”

sevika blinked slowly at your question. it was so meek too, the way you asked it, so out of character from the way you normally presented yourself. she pulled herself from underneath the vehicle again just to see you watching her with an almost puppy eyed look on your face.

she sighed. god, what are you doing now?

“I never pay attention to you.”

“we both know that’s not true.”

“I only pay attention to you just to tell you to quit being annoying. I promise you that’s not the kind of attention you should be worried that I’m no longer giving to you.”

‘we’ll, it’s better than nothing’ you thought but kept it to yourself, intending to be more straightforward instead.

“is this because of what happened a few days ago? when I caught you staring at me from my window?”

sevika didn’t expect you to bring it up, so to say she was caught off guard would be an understatement “that’s not-“

“it is, isn’t it?” you chuckled “grow up. it’s not like it was a big deal. plus I could tell you liked it.”

a deep blush painted over sevika’s face and you liked that your words got to her. she began to stand up from where she laid on the ground and hovered over you, her jaw clenched and visibly irked.

“I’m telling you this now. quit it or else.” she warned and your eyes darted to her lips.

you took that as a challenge “or what?” you stepped closer, tip toeing ever so slightly that your nose almost brushed against hers.

sevika couldn’t believe this. what’s gotten into you? but she should’ve seen this coming. she knew you did everything that you did because you wanted attention, craved it. and based on how desperate you looked right now, she was tempted to set you straight and give you what you wanted.

to grab you by the waist and bend you over the hood of her car and take you right ther-

she shook her head, stepping away as you looked at her like a wounded animal at the loss of proximity.

fuck. this girl is gonna be the death of me.

“go home. I don’t have time for your bullshit.” sevika snapped, picking up her tool box and walking back inside her garage. she then watched as you stood there, a pout on your face and your eyebrows furrowed before you glared at her, stomping back to your house and she slammed the garage door shut.

this is bad. so fucking bad.

𐙚 ˙ ⋆ .˚

two weeks.

two more weeks before you head back to college and sevika couldn’t be any more grateful.

because thank fucking god she didn’t have to deal with you anymore. not that she had to ever since your little moment with her while she was fixing her car. everything seemed to stop after that. the music, the pestering, all of it.

while she was relieved you were out of her hair, she couldn’t deny that a part of her felt almost restless since you stopped bothering her. coupled with the news that she no longer had to see you for god knows how long. it was overwhelming, but still. it was for the best.

she still talked to your father now and then and was recently asked if she could watch over you while he goes out of town to tend to your grandmother who had recently fallen ill. nothing too serious. but because she only lived alone of course your father was quick to pack his bags for the next three days to go check up on her. so she agreed.

not that she was going to come over, babysit you or anything. she just had to watch over the house and see if you’d go out late and to inform him of any suspicious happenings while he’s gone.

on the day that he left, sevika watched from her front door when you bid him farewell. giving him a long hug before he got into his car and drove off.

leaving you two to meet each other’s eye again and you simply brushed her off, slamming your door shut once you were inside. no commotion from you after that, nothing.

one could say she liked the silence, but it unsettled her. maybe you just got her so used to your chaotic nature these past couple of weeks the absence of it felt disorienting. yeah, that’s the only explanation for it.

she wanted to chalk it up and think that in a matter of days everything will blow over. plus her boss had informed her the renovation will be done soon so she needed the peace and quiet now more than ever, and for a moment she really thought she had it.

until she heard it again.

but this time much louder.

she had just fallen asleep on her couch and it was nearing 8pm when the sounds of a crowd outside jolted her out of her slumber. she rubbed her eyes and looked around to see where all the noise was coming from, and when she peeked through her blinds she couldn’t believe it.

your house open to a line of people, some she recognized to be the firelights and others she couldn’t even identify, coming in and out of your house as the same overpowering music blared from your living room - so loud she could feel the shockwaves bounce through her walls.

you were ridiculous. so fucking ridiculous and she should’ve known better than to think you learned your lesson.

without a moment of hesitation she got up from her couch and marched her way to your house, pushing past the bodies of intoxicated twenty something year olds grinding against one another. neon green lights illuminated through the windows of your home and red solo caps were scattered across the grass your father worked so hard to trim.

she was angry because while you were here throwing a fucking party, he was out of town looking after your sick grandmother.

you’re unbelievable. so fucking unbelievable.

she noticed many familiar faces when she pushed through the sea of people dancing in your living room, but one she was quick to pluck out from the crowd was a girl whose bright blue hair couldn’t be missed even from a mile ahead.

she made her way towards her, forced her to turn around by her shoulder and powder looked up, confused before she registered sevika’s face.

“sevika?” she yelled through the bustling sound of techno music “what are you doing here?”

“where is she?” she didn’t have to clarify who because powder immediately knew who sevika was referring to.

“she’s throwing a party before she goes back to college. can you please just lay off her and-“

“I don’t fucking care. she’s caused enough trouble as it is.” she snapped, making powder take a step back and before she could even reason with the distressed older woman, was when you finally appeared.

scurrying through the crowd in a tight, strapless mini dress that reached below your thighs, the material hugging your body in all the right places and while sevika would’ve loved to take her time to look at you, she wasn’t in the mood.

your eyes widened when you saw each other, but then your expression quickly turned sour and you crossed your arms over your chest “what the hell are you doing here?” you asked, voice clipped.

her nostrils flared as she straightened her posture and towered over you, her height overwhelming in the already cramped space.

“I already told you to quit this bullshit. but of course you never listen. your father is out of town and you pull this nonsense?” she barked and you can only laugh in response.

“what? you think just because my dad is not here you have full authority over me? fuck off, sevika.” you spat, a stubbornness in your tone that didn’t allow any room for arguments.

but sevika fought harder.

she balled her fists, looked around and saw the empty bottle of hennessy on the table near her. your eyebrows knitted together when you watched her take it, raise it in the air and slam it onto the edge of the table, causing everyone around you to stop and stare as the music paused.

you couldn’t believe what she had just done as she glowered at the many faces in the room, a mixture of both scared and perplexed at the sight of her.

“everyone. out!” she yelled, her voice echoing like a clap of thunder bolt.

everyone got up and fled as fast as they could. meanwhile, you stood there frozen, shocked at just how easily she was able to ruin your night as the last person got out of the room until it was only the two of you left.

the room was simply crickets and your bottom lip wobbled, a sob threatening to spill out “what the fuck is your problem?” you cried out. sevika couldn’t help but chuckle at your pathetic display of frustration. you looked like you wanted to tear her apart.

“do you have any idea the commotion you could’ve caused? your dad works at the town’s office and if any of the neighbors got fed up with you and decided to call the deputy to file a complaint, how do you think this will look for him? you’ll be leaving in two weeks and won’t be the one facing the repercussions of your actions. but he will.”

your shoulders sagged at the realization. perhaps the thought of you leaving your dad again got you so tangled up in your emotions you couldn’t think clearly, coupled with the unresolved tension between you and sevika. everything had become too much to bear. you wanted a moment away from it all.

“I didn’t think-“

“yeah, that’s the problem with you. you don’t think.” she growled and your mouth fell open at her words.

that’s when you felt it - the fiery hot rage that culminated inside of you these past couple of days after being ignored by her. truth be told, a huge part of the reason behind all of this was because you needed a way to grab her attention again. but with the way she was speaking to you now you’re beginning to doubt if you still want it.

“I don’t need you to talk to me like I’m a child.” you hissed and she grinned.

she walked towards you and bent her head slightly so she was eye level with you - her hot breath fanning against your lips.

“then stop fucking acting like one.” she bit back, noticing the way your breathing became shallow.

“you’re so obnoxious, you know that? you’re so deprived of attention and what do you do? you act like a brat. always so loud with your horrible music and skimpy clothes, walking around like you need the attention so badly you’re almost thirsty for it.” she said, her voice dropping to a dangerous octave and you only looked at her, wide eyed “what do you get out of it, huh? annoying me so fucking much?”

you were unable to speak. at loss for words while your gaze darted from her eyes down to her full lips that was formed in a subtle snarl.

you were silent before your mouth twitched into a smirk “I like the way you get mad at me.” you purred, clutching her shirt and tugging her towards you “it turns me on.”

sevika didn’t have time to process what was happening when you smashed your lips on hers. the kiss searing, hot and heavy. all teeth and desperation and clawing onto each other, the outcome of the built up tension between you two ever since you arrived.

her hands pawed at your hips, leaving deep crescents on their journey down to your thighs and she harshly gripped the plush skin with her blunt nails. making you squeal and she lifted you up while you circled your legs around her waist.

she tore her mouth away from yours and proceeded to pepper kisses down your throat, a broken moan leaving your lips at the feeling of her sucking on the sensitive area below your ear. sure to leave hickeys once she’s done while she leveled her eyes with yours with a predatory look.

“this is just what you wanted, huh?” she huffed and you nodded your head.

“sevika, please…”

“please what?” she taunted with a nasty grin on her stupid, beautiful face “what do you want me to do, princess?”

you bit your bottom lip while a tear fell from the corner of your eye and dear god, she didn’t expect it’d ever come to this. all those nights imagining what you’d look like under her and here you were, so pliant and needy for her touch.

you snaked your arms around her neck and pulled her closer “you know what I want,” you whined with a pout, which amused her even more.

“nah. that’s not enough, baby. want to hear you say it. come on.” you gasped at the feeling of her callous fingers trailing softly inside your thighs, leaving feather like touches that left goosebumps on your skin.

“sevika, please.” you cried out, trying to grind on her hand and it only made her pull it away.

“say it, you little brat. come on.” she pressed once more and you groaned.

“please fuck me.” you mumbled and she lets out a tsk at your tone.

“I’m sorry, what was that?”

your jaw clenched and you tugged at the fabric of her top “I said please fuck me!” you demanded “sevika, I swear-“

that was all she needed. she didn’t intend on teasing you further when she herself wanted this just as much as you did. maybe even more.

the next thing you knew she placed you onto the table, took her arm, used it to slide everything that was on top and threw it all onto the ground. adjusting you properly onto the wooden surface before crouching down so she could be near your crotch.

your breath hitched when she bunched up the bottom of dress so she could see the lace panties you wore, whistling at the sight as your cheeks warmed “take a look at this.”

before you could make a snide remark, your head fell back when she suddenly dug her nose at your clothed heat, moaning when she kissed the area and sucked. hard.

“sevika… oh my god.” you whined helplessly when she continued licking through your panties, biting the inside of your thighs and leaving little love marks as your body shivered.

the sound of fabric tearing snapped you out of your euphoric state and you looked down to see she practically ripped your underwear in two “why the fuck would you-“

“shut up. I’ll get you another one.“ she grumbled, holding your hips tightly.

“but those were expensive, you asshol!-“

your words died in your throat when she licked a fat stripe onto your pussy with her hot, wet tongue. making you cry when she lapped your juices like a woman starved.

“you’re so fucking soaked...” she groaned, vibrations shooting up your spine and you clenched at the way her tongue drew circles around your clit to all of a sudden deep thrusts with the muscle. you shamelessly rode her face as your slick dripped from her mouth down to her chin.

she pulled back and quickly collected spit in her mouth just to shoot it down your puffy cunt, watching the way her saliva moved down to your folds and she lets out a shaky breath “such a pretty fucking pussy.” she rasped, lapping at it harshly.

you arched your back and gripped the edge of the table so hard you swore that your knuckles turned white. with her pupils blown wide you felt like were being feasted upon as she continued making harsh sucks onto your bud, feeling your orgasm approaching and you started squirming in her hold.

“I’m so close, sev…” you whimpered and her tongue darted further while you felt one of her fingers prod your entrance before she slipped it in, a choked sob leaving your mouth at the stretch when she pushed it in and out at a maddening pace before adding another finger in.

you swore you almost saw stars explode behind your eyelids at the way she fucked you with her fingers, starting off gentle before she began ramming them into you at a brutal pace. so much so that your body rocked back and forth against the table.

“s-sev, please! please! fuck!” your cries were borderline pornographic as she continued pounding into you “I’m gonna cum, I’m gonna cum, I’m gonna-“ your words came to a screeching halt as white, hot blinding pleasure took over your body in harsh tremors.

you cried loudly and gripped her hair but she didn’t let up, slurping up your juices while she bent her fingers to piston them into your tight walls you could only thrash in her grip due to the overstimulation “s-sev… too m-much.”

“this is what you needed right? to have the attitude fucked outta you?” she chuckled before giving your clit one last kiss.

watching the way your pussy gaped before she started sliding her sweats down, her chiseled abs and prominent V line coming into view and you licked the top of your lips when she pulled her shirt over head, leaving her in nothing but her sports bra.

she took your dress and pulled it down until you were left bare naked as well. then she scooped you up in her arms and placed you onto the carpeted floor.

she leaned down, placed a languid kiss onto your lips and you cupped her face in your hands as you moaned softly.

she then slotted your legs together so her clit touched yours. it was swollen and red due to not getting her fill yet and she groaned at the feeling of your wetness grinding against hers. humping you like an animal in heat.

“that’s right. f-fuck. cum for me. cum for me one last time while I shoot my load onto this pretty fucking pussy.” she huffed while your eyes moved to watch the scene below you and your jaw went slack at the way your clits dragged against one another. your slick meshing with hers and the residue of saliva that she left when she was eating you out.

you felt the coil in your stomach tighten one last time and you swore you were about to pass out “I’m gonna c-cum again, sev. oh my god.”

“cum for me. cum again for me, baby. come on.” she panted while the sounds of skin slapping resonated through the small space of your kitchen, making you wail out while your tits bounced at the the violent way her hips snapped at the bottom of your thighs.

you came the second time that night, body trembling so hard you simply went limp and sevika continued using your body to get off.

she followed you shortly after, grunting as her hands gripped your hips so tightly you were certain it’ll leave bruises.

she was breathing heavily, squeezing your sides before she dipped her head down to kiss you.

you hummed at the display of affection and she pulled back once both of you found it hard to breathe.

“that was…” she muttered and you giggled.

you peppered kisses up her jaw and smiled “I don’t think I’m gonna be able to have breakfast on that table the same way again.” you said which sevika could only laugh at, shaking her head as she palmed your cheek.

“god,” she looked at you with amused eyes as you nuzzled against her touch “you really are something aren’t you, princess?”

[amirasainz]

Could I please request Hamilton daughter reader. Maybe a cute moment with Roscoe and Leo?

Enjoy reading and send some requests!

-xoxo babygirl ♥️

Dogs, Bikes, and Free Rides

It was a sunny afternoon at the GP, the air warm and inviting as birds chirped faintly in the background. The paddock was bustling with energy—mechanics fine-tuning cars, media crews setting up shots, and team personnel buzzing around like bees.

Five-year-old Yn was less concerned with the hustle and bustle of the race weekend and more intrigued by the perfect weather. Her curly hair bounced with each excited step as she explored the Ferrari motorhome with her dad and Charles. The two were deep into filming some content for the team, laughter and friendly teasing filling the space between takes.

Yn sat cross-legged on a bench, her chin resting in her small hands as she watched her dad talk animatedly to the camera. Charles stood beside him, his trademark grin ever present. Boredom started to creep in, making Yn fidget.

Then, she had an idea.

Spotting her little red bike propped against the fence nearby, Yn's face lit up. But there was a problem—she didn’t want to leave the dogs behind. Roscoe, her dad’s beloved bulldog, was lounging lazily on the grass, while Leo, Charles’ mischievous dachshund, wagged his tail excitedly as if sensing adventure.

“Hmm,” Yn mused to herself, tapping her chin thoughtfully.

Determined, she marched over to the dogs. “Okay, guys,” she announced seriously, “we’re going on a ride.”

Roscoe snorted in response, clearly uninterested in moving. Leo, on the other hand, barked happily, ready for anything.

With great difficulty, Yn managed to coax Roscoe up and into the front basket of her bike. He grumbled but complied, his heavy body nearly tipping the bike over.

“Whoa! Stay still, Roscoe!” she giggled, struggling to balance.

Leo, much lighter, was easier to handle. He leaped into the basket beside Roscoe, his tail wagging furiously. Yn stepped back, admiring her work.

“Perfect,” she declared proudly, dusting off her hands.

Gripping the handlebars tightly, she climbed onto the bike. With a determined push, she started pedaling, the dogs wobbling slightly in the basket before settling in.

The wind whipped through Yn’s curls as she cycled down the service road that ran parallel to the track. The rhythmic hum of engines in the distance only added to the excitement.

Meanwhile, her dad and Charles had just wrapped up their segment. Charles stretched his arms overhead, glancing around. That’s when he spotted Yn in the distance, pedaling furiously with two dogs precariously balanced in the basket.

A laugh bubbled up in his chest. “Uh, is that Yn?”

Lewis followed Charles’ gaze, his brows furrowing in confusion.

“What the—” he started, blinking in disbelief. “Is she... is that Roscoe and Leo in the basket?”

Charles nodded, grinning. “Yep. Looks like they’re getting the VIP treatment.”

As Yn drew closer, Lewis stepped toward the edge of the track, waving his arms.

“Yn! What are you doing?” he called out, his voice a mix of amusement and exasperation.

Yn didn’t even slow down. Her little legs pumped furiously as she yelled back, completely unbothered, “The dogs wanted a free ride!”

Charles burst out laughing, doubling over as Lewis stood there, utterly baffled.

“A free ride?” Lewis repeated incredulously, shaking his head. “Roscoe doesn’t even like moving!”

Yn zipped past them, her focus unwavering. Roscoe looked mildly annoyed but resigned, while Leo barked gleefully, clearly enjoying the adventure.

“She’s fearless,” Charles managed between laughs. “And creative. You gotta give her that.”

Lewis sighed, though a smile tugged at his lips. “Yeah, she gets that from me, I guess.”

Charles nudged him playfully. “Sure, let’s go with that.”

They watched as Yn disappeared around the bend, her determined figure growing smaller.

“You think we should go after her?” Charles asked, wiping a tear of laughter from his eye.

Lewis shrugged, a fond smile settling on his face. “Nah, she’ll be back when she gets tired. She’s got this whole paddock wrapped around her little finger.”

“True,” Charles agreed. “Plus, Roscoe’s too lazy to let this go on for long.”

As predicted, it wasn’t long before Yn reappeared, her pace slower but still steady. She pulled up in front of her dad and Charles, her face flushed with triumph.

“See?” she panted. “Told you they wanted a ride.”

Lewis crossed his arms, trying to look stern but failing miserably. “And what if you tipped over, huh? What then?”

Yn gave him a confident grin. “Didn’t tip, though.”

Charles chuckled. “She’s got a point.”

Lewis shook his head in disbelief. “You’re too much, kid.”

Yn beamed proudly. “Thanks, Daddy.”

Charles crouched down, scratching Roscoe behind the ears. “So, how was the ride, Roscoe?”

The bulldog snorted, clearly unimpressed. Leo, on the other hand, barked enthusiastically.

“Leo liked it,” Yn said matter-of-factly. “Roscoe’s just grumpy.”

“I can relate,” Charles teased, earning a playful swat from Lewis.

“Alright, adventure girl,” Lewis said, lifting her off the bike. “Let’s get you and these dogs some water before you pass out.”

“Okay, but can we do it again later?” Yn asked hopefully.

Lewis sighed, exchanging a glance with Charles.

“We’ll see,” he said diplomatically.

Charles grinned. “That’s a yes.”

Yn cheered, throwing her arms in the air. “Best day ever!”

As they made their way back to the motorhome, Yn chattered animatedly about her next great idea, leaving her dad and Charles shaking their heads fondly.

One thing was certain—life was never boring with Yn around.

[mv1simp]

I love your stories so much, please write more dark manipulative Max, maybe something with mindbreak or bimbofication of an innocent reader? It would be fun if she was Toto's daughter and Max so holds it over Toto.

this is for all the dark!Max/toto’s daughter/bimbo/mindbreak reader requests all you freaks have been requesting 😼😼 for the first time i have something for the dark!lando girlies!!

Double Fantasy ♥️

Max Verstappen x Lando’s Fuckbuddy!Reader

I can tell that you think that I’m right for you, I already know that it's not true, but girl I'll lie to you (even though it's wrong)

Recently becoming a media executive for the FIA, you can’t deny that your dream job has given you access to your dream men. Sadly, your top pick, Max Verstappen doesn’t look twice your way - not interested in the daughter of Toto Wolff, who he openly dislikes. But you gladly enjoy your consolation prize of being Lando Norris’s fuckbuddy. You didn’t realise just how far Lando planned on extending your arrangement when he pisses the Dutch champion off one step too far - and now needs to figure out the perfect gift to give Max and make amends.

Content includes: 18+ MDNI, smut, dark! max, dark! Lando, but bimbo!reader is into it lol, have done a twist on the usual innocent! reader, she’s toto’s daughter also, dubcon, blindfold, BDSM, no threesomes sorry I can’t share max with anyone else, WC 5.6k

Multiple heads turn your way as you make your way down the FIA garage, your YSL black and gold heels clicking smoothly on the floor. You can’t hold back the pleased smile on your pink glossed lips at the appreciative glances over your curvy figure. At 22, you’ve landed your dream job as a marketing and media executive for the FIA. Glowing recommendations, a perfect GPA and of course a touch of good old fashioned nepotism via your dad, the Mercedes team principal Toto Wolff, landed you here, dressed in luxury outfits and regularly networking with some of the richest people on the continent. What can you say? You’re a material girl, after all, with a pleasure for the finer things in life.

And that included an appreciation of rich, powerful men that you inherited as a result of a strict and emotionless father who preferred to spend his time running a motorsports corporation instead of at home. Daddy issues, one might even say (actually your therapist had said exactly that.) So the Formula One grid, filled to the brim with hot, millionaire drivers who have no issue flirting with the new pretty little toy on the paddock, was the perfect place for a girl like you to work. You definitely had your fun, arriving a few months ago for your first day, dressed in a tight yet full length maxi dress, giving you the perfect blend of sexy and demure that had much of the paddock panting after you.

But you were a girl with a taste for luxury - you weren’t going to settle for any dirty mechanic or plain news reporter. No, what you wanted more than anything, was to get the best of both worlds like your lucky bitch of a stepmom Susie Wolff had done - FIA executive and WAG of the hottest and richest team principal. Even you had to admit, apart from your dad, the rest of the principals were a little bit too far on the balding old men side. But the drivers, you thought wickedly, the drivers were a completely different story. And they knew they were some of the most desired men on the planet, with their fame and status. Their egos were sky high - especially since multiple women would be throwing themselves at them every race weekend or media day. So you had made sure to play the game very, very carefully - unlike the other sultry models on the paddock, or conservative women dressed head to toe in basic team gear, you were the very picture of innocence with your sweet makeup and dark curls, cute girly dresses and heels, all shy giggles one minute and then serious, no nonsense businesswoman the next to keep them on their toes.

A lot of the drivers ate it up, too, flocking to Toto Wolff’s pretty daughter when they’d see you doing the occasional post race interview or brazenly flirting with you at a drivers’ meeting. But the one man who you truly wanted, the 26 year old in the Redbull gear with 3 world champions and a multimillionaire contract to his name, with intense blue eyes and thick thighs and broad shoulders, with a deep voice that sent shivers down your spine one second then flutters in your heart the next when you’d hear him laugh - he was the man who didn’t look twice your way. Despite your attempts to flutter your eyelashes, wearing tight outfits and bend over just so in a certain angle, or pressing your generous tits up against his bulging biceps as your breathlessly whisper Congratulations on the win, Max he wouldn’t even show a flicker of reciprocal interest. You were the daughter of Toto, after all - a principal who he was quite well known in the media for having ongoing disputes with for numerous years. As if Max Verstappen was going to be seduced by the likes of a gold digging daughter who was probably just as two faced as her father.

You’d pouted for weeks, growing bitter with jealousy at seeing Max instead walk around with Kelly, a pretty, tall and slim model who’d apparently outplayed you. But to your delight, you stumbled upon the best consolation prize. With all your pining you hadn’t realized you’d snagged one of the hottest and most desirable drivers on the grid - McLaren’s Lando Norris. Well, snagged was one way to put it - after all, a playboy like him was hard to pin down, especially when he knew how much pull he had over women. But you’d thought about that to, even going so far as saving your virginity like the perfect daddy’s little girl you were. Lando ate it up, twistedly enjoying getting to corrupt the paddock’s pretty princess, the one everyone wanted to get a piece off. So unlike the other women he slept with, the ones kept secret and hidden from the media, you were his favourite toy - one that he paraded around whenever you’d be in the same city. Not quite a girlfriend, of course, he was far too much of a flirt to put such a label on you so soon - more of a friends with benefits, a high maintenance fling, a fuckbuddy, some might call it.

And once you had your manicured hands clinging onto his arms at the races you sure as hell did not plan on letting go. Toto was not overly happy at the news that his eldest daughter was involved with a driver, of course, but had accepted it as Lando was still a good choice compared to many of the other drivers he wanted you to stay well away from - like Mad Max. So you stayed loyal to Lando, not wanting any rumours about you flirting with multiple drivers to impact your dad’s important reputation. You’d only flutter your lashes at Lando, kissing his cheek diligently with your glossed lips, sending the naughty photos of you in expensive lingerie just for him - because the rewards you got as his paddock arm candy were just too good. Always making sure your face was well cut out from any pictures, of course - you would die if they got leaked and your father found out.

But being Lando’s fuckbuddy came with a whole line of luxuries you’d quickly grown accustomed too. Tickets to whatever show you wanted, the finest food at the most expensive restaurant, the papparazzi going crazy at whatever outfit you’d wear when clinging onto Lando’s arm, and of course one of the most coveted men in the world between your legs, teaching you how to come apart on his fingers. That’s right, his fingers, and very rarely his cock, because you needed to secure that diamond ring, after all. And you sure as hell weren’t going to give him wife privileges 24/7 when he hadn’t even made you his official girlfriend yet. So instead you tried to push him to the limits, testing his patience to give up and retire his playboy ways if he finally got to bury his desperate dick inside your heavenly tight pussy again, after having taken your virginity.

Truly, you had outdone yourself, you thought, as every passing race this season Lando got more and more tense as tensions for the World Championships grew, with McLaren finally being able to threaten the Verstappen Red Bull reign for the first time in years. And with each passing race, he couldn’t relieve the tension enough, trying to furiously fuck his way through all number of vogue models but somehow always finding himself back with you, desperately begging to be let in between your soft thighs. And like always, you’d blink innocently and coo that you felt too shy, wasn’t last time enough, you didn’t want to ruin yourself for the man you were going to marry, remember?

And Lando would groan, because as much as he wanted you, he also knew there was no way in hell he was ready to take you to the altar over this. Although it had been getting harder and harder to resist, lately, because although you were truly so talented with your small hands and sweet, drooling mouth, he would endlessly replay the heaven that your pussy had felt like the rare few times you’d let him enter you with his cock.

But as the season went on even you couldn’t calm Lando down, especially after the Zandervoot race. Tensions were at an all time high between him and his normally good friend Max, after Lando stole his home race under him and even sealed the deal by throwing the Dutchman’s simply lovely phrase back at him cockily. Max was well and truly pissed off at Lando then, not even turning upto their weekly Padel games or replying to his texts. Although Lando wanted to win the championship, he also wanted to remain good mates with Max - especially because he knew being on Mad Max’s bad side always ended with the opponent finding themselves crashing into a wall at the next race. So as he pondered just what he could do to get his friend’s forgiveness, a wicked idea came to him, one night when he was out at a Monaco nightclub with you and had run into Max partying with his friends. He’d tried to talk to Max, but had been rudely ignored, so instead Lando stood off the corner, rather crossly glaring at the Dutchman, when he noticed you’d disappeared from his side to tipsily wander to the bar and get another drink.

He was about to go help you when he saw you stumble, maybe take you to the bathroom for a quick sloppy blowjob - but was suprised to see Max appear at your side, his intense blue eyes watching your tinier frame carefully as he rested a large palm over your plump ass to secure you. And Lando watched as you giggled happily, twirling your hair as Max handed over his black Amex to pay for your drink, rewarded with a lingering lip glossed kiss on his cheek from you, before you scampered back over to where Lando was hidden in the shadows. And as you loyally returned to Lando’s arms, whispering that you were going to make him feel so good tonight, he seemed so tense, the Brit found himself ignoring your seductive words entirely to instead focus on how Max’s hungry gaze lingered on your ass as you had strutted away from the tall blonde man. A sinister grin appeared on Lando’s face as he pieced it all together. He’d always thought it was weird that Max chose to completely ignore you, given that he normally was a friendly guy off the track. Turns out his good mate was just trying to avoid getting involved with Toto’s paddock bunny of a daughter, huh?

Turning his attention to you, Lando whispered if you could pretty please try out something new for him tonight, because he was really stressed, okay? He watches you nod eagerly, foolishly thinking your plan to get Lando so desperate for you that he was ready to put a ring on your finger was working. Too bad you had no idea that instead, your fuckbuddy was thinking about how he’d just found the perfect present to gift to his angry rival.

So that’s how you found yourself in a plush hotel bed later that night, all dressed up in a pretty white lace and mesh set and still in your heels, your eyes blindfolded with your hands tied behind your back. You eyes had gone wide with excitement, thighs clenching when Lando had pulled the ropes out, and you’d had to blush and act all innocent when secretly you couldn’t be happier that you were drawing out the dirtier desires in Lando. Because that meant he was falling for you all the more, right?

You had no idea about the private conversation your fuckbuddy had been having with the driver you’d previously desired, just outside the club in a dark alleyway, where Lando had finally cornered Max to apologise. The furious Dutchman had, as expected, been in no mood to hear it - but had stopped in his tracks and turned around when Lando slyly suggested that as he had taken something of his, it was only fair that Max get one of Lando’s precious things in return. Like maybe…you?

At the mention of your name, Max furrows his brows, telling Lando he wasn’t interested in the latest toy on the grid who spread her legs for whichever driver gave her some attention. Oh, Lando all but purred, that’s the catch, mate. She’s basically still a virgin, was one when I met her, only let me fuck her a couple of times, wants to save herself for the one or some shit. But I trained her how to use her holes, and fuck does she know how to suck a guy off with that sweet mouth of hers.

That’d caught Max’s attention, and he smirked to Lando, calling him a fucked up asshole for selling out the girl who was loyal to him like this, who was Toto Wolff’s daughter, no less - a powerful man someone like Lando wouldn’t want to make an enemy off. The Brit shrugged. Toto’s never going to find out. What’s mine is yours, mate. Enjoy. And with that, he tossed his room key to Max.

That night, Lando didn’t feel bad, not even one bit, as he tightly wound the rope around your delicate little wrists, knowing that you loved to act all innocent but secretly kinky shit like this has you dripping. Especially if you were going to be ruined tonight by a man who you secretly still had desires for - and Lando was certain you did, judging from the way he’d seen you look at Max like he was a God you wanted to worship on your knees. Really, he was being a good friend to you both by letting it happen - just this once of course, he wasn’t going to just hand you over to his track rival after putting in so much work to train you to be the perfect sex toy. So he’d left you there all alone in the room, abruptly saying he had an urgent call and would be back.

The drinks you’d had earlier certainly had their affects on you, making you whine against the tight ropes on your flushed and sensitive skin, almost grateful for the blindfold as you felt overstimulated already. When you finally heard the hotel door reopen, you sighed in relief as your fuckbuddy - soon to be boyfriend, you hoped! - finally came back. In your wildest fantasies you’d never have guessed that instead of Lando locking the door, Max stood in his place - and had taken one look at your tempting, restrained form and realized that the sly Brit had definitely not told you about his plans for tonight. Keeping you blind and tied up while you were tricked into thinking it was your beloved Brit entering you and not your daddy’s enemy, Max Verstappen? It was so dirty that Max got an instant hard on. He’d seen the looks, the touches you gave him too - they were rather hard to miss, after all. But he’d played aloof, not wanting to give into your gold digging ways - but he’d admit that he’s been rather disappointed when he found you’d settled for Lando instead. You’d surprised him with how loyal you remained to the McLaren driver, dutifully remaining by his side and avoiding Max’s intense gaze when it would occasionally flicker over to you. But when the alcohol had loosened your inhibitions tonight, Max had seen the desire in your blown pupils, in your hardened nipples that peaked just at the edge of your dress, and had cockily smirked at the realisation that Lando’s little toy, Toto’s precious daughter - that she was still lusting after him.

And now that this opportunity had presented itself….well, let’s just say that it had Max grinning wickedly as he plotted up all the ways he could walk away with both you and the world championship from Lando this year. That would certainly teach the younger male to mess with what was his, wouldn’t it? And even better, it would put that arrogant prick Toto in his place, keep him from daring to speak out against Max in the media when Redbull trashed Mercedes - because his adored little daughter would be spending the race weekends on her hands and knees for the Dutch world champion, if Max had anything to say about it.

So that’s how Max found himself at the foot of the bed, stripping off his clothes and lazily jerking himself off as he watched you squirm underneath your ropes, pouting as you couldn’t do your usual bit of trailing teasing hands all over Lando and rile him up. Baby? You crooned, tilting your head in the direction you thought he was in. Aren’t you going to-Oh!

You felt his warm, large palms cup your cheek, tracing your glossy, pink lips and you automatically poke your tongue out to circle his finger. Good girl, he sighed, the words making your tummy flutter. He sounded a little different to usual, his voice deeper, lower, but it was hard to think clearly over how much your head was pounding from raw desire, and you liked how he sounded tonight. You were feeling really horny and couldn’t wait for him to finally fuck you too - having had to desperately ride your tiny vibrator after stopping Lando fucking you multiple times this month.

His hands continued their path, trailing over your delicate throat and teasingly encircling it with his large hand, making you gasp - you hadn’t remembered it being quite so large that it wrapped around the whole width of your neck. But maybe your senses were more attuned now since you were blindfolded? It felt really good.

You promptly forgot to think about that any longer when those large hands moved downwards, roughly palming your bouncy tits and making you giggle from his attention. He teased and squeezed them, tugging down on the lace to free them in the open air, twisting on your hardened cute nipples. You squealed from the abuse to your overly sensitive areolas, distracted, and didn’t notice when your hands ended up being untied - only to be guided to a very large and hard cock.

Baby, you’d giggled, it’s been so long that you’re even bigger than I remembered. He swore under his breath as you diligently jerked him off with your two small hands barely wrapping around his length, spitting on it cutely to ease the glide. And then he’s rubbing his leaking cock all over your tits, slapping them with it and chuckling darkly as they jiggled, all wet from his precum. Before you know it, you were drooling and suckling all over his cock, sweetly moaning how good he tasted, even more than last time. Suckling his balls and then licking all the way the very tip, just like he’d taught you, placing messy lip gloss stained kisses down the wet shaft before sucking them clean off. You made sure to pay extra attention to the thick veins that ran underneath his length, even the new ones you hadn’t felt before, because he’d told you it drove men wild.

And when he grabbed your pretty curls, you let your mouth go lax so he could pump his full length furiously down your inviting throat, groaning how much of a good girl you were, maybe your full time job should be sucking his cock instead of trotting about the paddock. You moaned excitedly at the idea, and when he cums, all thick and creamy, you obediently swallow it all up.

Look, daddy, you say rather sluttily, dropping your mouth wide open, tongue out as you showed him how well you’d drank all his cum. Fuck, that’s so dirty, calling me and your father the same name, huh? Should’ve known you’d be into kinky shit like this.

You scrunch your brows cutely in confusion, not sure what he meant by that because you’d called him daddy many times before. But you don’t get to ponder too long because you suddenly hear the sound of a camera click and can see the flash go off through the blindfold. Your tummy lurches, because Nooo, baby, no photos, please, what if my dad sees-

Your pleas are ignored as you’re being lifted by two broad arms and tossed onto the bed, your hands dragged up and over your head as your wrists are tied to the headboard. You’re whining, asking him what he was doing, this was too much, you wanted to see him now, to touch him, but again you don’t get an answer.

Instead, you feel his thick fingers hooking around the sides of your soaked panties and sliding them off, lewd strings of your wetness clinging to the lace as it’s pulled away. Then you hear him deeply exhale a fucking hell, making you blush as strong hands grasp your ankles and push them far apart so your intimate parts are exposed for his hungry gaze.

That’s all the warning you get before there’s a foreign sensation of his warm breath blowing on your puffy folds, making you gasp, and before a broad tongue licks a stripe clean up your pink slit. You squeal in suprise, again stupidly babbling and asking what he was doing, because normally Lando didn’t like going down on you, finding it too much effort for a quick stress relieving fuck - he much preferred having you suck him off instead.

But the mouth currently lapping at your folds seems to have realized just how unfamiliar this pleasure seems to be for your sensitive cunny, because he buries his face right in, licking and slurping up all your dripping wetness. You thrash against your restrains, incoherently moaning because it feels so good baby, mmmh, why didn’t he do this more?

He laughs huskily, still buried inside your folds, and the deep vibrations make you almost cum right then and there. Your whole body is burning up with need now and you’re begging for him to put the condom on and slide in it, daddy, please, you needed it so bad-

You both moan as he finally sinks home, your creamy pussy gushing around him as it welcomes him in. You feel breathless at the size of him, because again he’s bigger and thicker than you remembered - not even just his cock, but his whole body, his bulging biceps and broad chest being able to hold you down with ease. You let him know it, too, whining that he’s so strong, it was really hot, had he been working out more?

That made him laugh again, lips grinning right by your ear, as he tilts your hips up to meet his and starts fucking your gushing pussy roughly. Through your euphoric daze, you feel familiar butterflies swirl in your stomach at the deep laugh, the accent sounding so different from Lando’s but still familiar to you for some reason - yet you still couldn’t quite place it. It was impossible to focus with the way he was thrusting into you, his hands pressing your hips down into the mattress in a bruising grip, making your tits bounce with each pump, your breath come out in soft pants as you gasped for air. You’re about to cum, you can feel it, the intensity building up-

And then, finally, he takes off your blindfold. Your brown eyes take a second to adjust to the bright lights - and then you widen them in pure shock as you realize just who’s wide cock was splitting you open.

You scream as Max grins wickedly down at you, pulling back to leave just his leaking tip inside your tight cunny, before slamming back in and, setting a bed breaking pace and drowning out your panicked wails with the loud banging of the headboard against the walls. You’re doing so good for me, schatje he croons, his voice sickly sweet but his actions pure evil as he grabs your dirty panties and meanly shoves them past your plush lips. Grabbing your soft thighs, he tosses them over his shoulder as he bullies his cock into you even deeper from this angle, repeatedly hitting your poor cervix. Tears pool in your brown doe eyes as you look at where he enters you, horrified as you see he’s making you take his cock raw - something Lando and you never did despite how hot it sounded as a baby outside of marriage would be too much for both of your families. You cry and wail and scream, tears streaming down your face at the embarrasing and degrading treatment you’re experiencing. Really, it’s such wicked and sinful behaviour and you should hate Max so much for this, hate Lando for leaving you all tied up and alone and defenceless against his evil and twisted rival to take advantage of you like this, to bully your practically virgin cunny with each deep thrust from his massive cock.

So why are you rapidly reaching your orgasm even faster than before?

Max has apparently learnt the signs of your pliant body underneath him far too quickly, because he slides his thick cock out of your swollen cunny and instead rests it just on top of your folds. Almost lovingly wiping your tears away with a flick of his thumb, he demands that you beg for it, for his cock to split you in half, to cum inside you, for him, Max, to be the only man you ever let inside your sweet pussy from now on.

You frantically shake your head, your muffled no no nos an obvious contrast to what you secretly wanted, as you’re simultaneously bucking your hips up against his hard length, drenching it in new slick. He smirks, leaning down so your foreheads meet and sweetly kissing up your tears. Despite the depravity of the situation, you’re finding yourself blushing from the unexpected gesture. Schatje, he whispers darkly, sending shivers up your spine because you’d always gotten jealous hearing him call other women that, you’re making this so much harder on yourself. It’s going to be so fun to watch you fall apart for me.

With that, he agonisingly tortures you, dragging just his tip through your folds again and again, slapping your throbbing clit with his head, biting and sucking on your sensitive nipples that leaves you arching your back into his talented mouth. You’re struggling to make sense of what’s going on, of trying to keep coherent. All that hard work and patience to try and lure Lando in was gone the very second your pussy had welcomed Max into it, because you knew Lando would never take you back if he found out about this. Your desperate brain reasons that then, it shouldn’t matter, right? It was too late for you and Lando. And now, you had Max Verstappen using your pretty body however he wanted, making you fulfill all his twisted desires. If you showed him how good you could be for him, be the perfect little pet for all his frustrations to be let out at, maybe he’d keep you around…permanently?

Max didn’t miss the dazed look that had overtaken your wide doe eyes as your whines quietened down. Guess all his teasing had finally melted that scheming brain of yours. Yanking your panties out of your mouth, he asked you if you were ready to behave and ask him nicely.

You nod obediently, looking at him with heart eyes as you confess that his cock felt so good, so addictive, you don’t think you could ever go back to Lando after being stretched open so wide, and could he pretty please fuck you hard and good?

Max growls at your submissive words. You’re offering yourself up to me so sweetly, baby. How can I say no?

He unties your aching wrists, running his soothing palms over the rope marked skin, bending down to give you a passionate, open mouthed kiss. You greedily slurp at his intruding tongue, letting yourself get lost in the pleasure as he lines himself up at your entrance before easily sinking into the wet folds. This time, he doesn’t stop his wicked thrusts, not when you’re squirting on his cock, eyes rolling to the back of your head, not when a creamy ring forms around the base of his cock from your cum, not when you’re tangling your hands in his hair and whining that it’s too much, you’re going to pass out.

He only stops once he’s tensing above you, one hand squeezing your neck and the other gripping the headboard as he drains his entire load into your tight cunny desperately clenching around him. Yours is truly the sweetest pussy he’s ever fucked. He’s never letting you go. He cums so much that it spurts out past your pussy lips, all over your soft thighs.

After a while, when he’s done whispering praises into your ears, your gooey brain soaking it all up, he slides out of you, admiring how his cum leaks out of your cunny that had treated him very well tonight. He places a gentle kiss to your temple and lets you doze off for a bit. It takes you a while longer to come to your senses, and when you sit up, you gulp down the glass of cold water that has been placed on the bedside table. You see Max spread out on an armchair across the room, shirtless and in some grey sweats, smirking at something on his phone - but he looks up when he hears you and lets his gaze drift down your marked up body. You flush under his intense ice blue eyes, heart fluttering at finally getting attention from the richest and fastest driver on the grid.

He beckons you over, calling you his pretty schatje, and in your blissed out state you obediently crawl over to him on your hands and knees, settling in between his spread legs and resting your head against his large thigh. And when he tells you that you looked so cute crawling for him, maybe next time he’ll get you a leash and collar with his name on it, hmm? you bite your lip and shyly nod, telling him of course, you’d do whatever daddy wanted.

He grins darkly, pleased with your submissive response, knowing you’re completely his. Forget Toto, forget Lando, the only man you’d ever be loyal to from now on was him. So you eagerly open your juicy lips wide at his command, drooling all over his cock to clean up the sticky mess your pussy walls had left behind. And when he points his phone at you, hitting record, you glassily stare straight at the camera, letting it capture how you hollowed your cheeks and licked up the creamy ring coating the base of Max’s cock. Gonna send this to your father if he keeps lying about how I’ve going to sign a Mercedes contract next year, Max teases meanly. Or to Lando if he tries to overtake me on the track again. You whine at him, brown doe eyes distressed, and start deepthroating him even faster to please him more, hoping if you did he wouldn’t show your daddy or ex fuckbuddy how much of a slut you were for the champion driver.

Being on your knees and obediently blowing Maxie was a position you became very familiar with. Because like he had wanted, every race weekend you would break your FIA contract clause of remaining unbiased and be dressed in a skimpy little outfit in Redbull colours, your lush tits pushed against Max’s thick biceps as you clung onto him through his paddock walk. Max couldn’t resist smirking at the Mercedes garage where Toto would glare, arms crossed, at the sight of his well accomplished daughter following the reckless Redbull champion around like a lost bunny. Placing a possessive large palm across your ass as he guided you into his private jet, giving it a good squeeze, Max made sure the paparazzi caught a good pic of that, too, for your father to see later when he opened Twitter.

And Lando, who knew how much Max despised sharing his toys, skulked from his seat when he saw you entering Max’s plane for the ride back to Monaco. He’d make sure to never make the mistake of flying in the Verstappen jet again, he thought as he moodily shoved his headphones over his ears to drown out the filthy sounds and desperate moans you let out as Max fucked you raw on the other side of the cabin divider. You’d never let Lando fuck you in such a public place or so often, no matter how often he’d begged you.

Fuck it, might as well make the most of it, the Brit thought once he stopped moping and realised his music wasn’t going to block out the obscene squelches as his rival continued to greedily bounce your creamy pussy on his thick cock. Shoving his hand down his pants, Lando slowly started jerking himself off, smirking when he sees one of Max’s air hostesses blush and bite her lip when he catches her looking. Apparently he hadn’t learnt his lesson of keeping his hands off what belonged to the Dutchman after all, because soon he’s thrusting into the hostess’s willing mouth with the same rapid pace that Max is fucking you with.

Your father had always said birds of a feather flocked together, after all.

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A/N: POST FIC CLARITY HIT HARD IN THIS ONE AHHHHHH 😳😳 hope this satisfies the dark max hoes (yall are so real for that)😼😼 as usual let me know what you think and send in more requests!