#sorry y'all this was like the third one this week

[hexb0nes]

Sugar, Spice, & Everything Nice

I. COFFEE BEANS & UNSATSIFED DREAMS

word count: 5k

pairing: sugar daddy!jayce x sugar baby!reader

contains: the brutality of working in the food/beverage industry, karenism, alludes to depression, social and physical isolation

summary: life as a barista is fine when the customers are, but a terrible exchange between you and a demanding customer leaves you upset and angry. billionaire jayce talis emerge from his solitude to get his life back on track. your hard days lead to an unlikely meetup.

author's note: chapter one is here!!! many thanks to my beta reader @bb-enablefreebuild for her help <3 i hope y'all enjoy this, i know a few folks in @madschiavelique's discord server were craving some sugar daddy jayce ;D

The aroma of coffee beans and freshly warmed pastries wafts through The Last Drop, a local café in the heart of Piltover City. Chattering customers of all sorts fill up the shop, some awaiting for their drinks while others partake in their sweet treats. It’s a busy day, the third busy day in a row for the week. Busy days mean more tips, but–

You run through the backside of the café, sweat sticking to your forehead from the heat emitting from the various equipment. The morning shift is down by two workers, leaving you and your remaining coworkers Gertude and Mylo to man the ship, a rapidly sinking ship.

“We need a medium flat white! Oat milk and medium roast!” Gertude yells to you from behind the cash register. The amount of customers waiting to order barely fits inside the queue belts, some grumbling about the long wait. Remember, busy days mean more time.

“I’m on it!” you shout back in confirmation and make a mad dash into the back of the shop. 

With the grace of a bull in a china shop, you throw yourself at the espresso machine and dump some coffee beans inside the chute, turning the machine on and adjusting the setting until you pull out an adequate espresso shot. You hastily steam the oak milk and with the ingredients ready, you pour a flat white as best as your trembling hands could.

“Flat white with oat milk and medium roast!” you pop out to the front with the coffee in hand. An older woman with a quilted jacket appears before you, “Thank you, dear,” she takes the coffee from your hands. She pulls out a five dollar bill from her pocket and hands it to you, “Good luck to you and your friends!”

“Thank you so so so much,” you thank the customer profusely. She tips her head and walks off; you turn around to get back to the coffee machines when an annoyed voice calls out to you, “Excuse, ma’am.”

You spin back around to the front and come face-to-face with a middle-aged man in business attire. His face is so red, you fear that he’s having a stroke. Unfortunately, Mr. Not-Having-A-Stroke thrusts his to-go coffee cup towards your face, “This coffee is the worst thing I’ve ever tasted! I want a refund!”

You attempt to placate the businessman with a well-trained smile, “I’m sorry, sir, but we have a no refund policy because all of our items are perishable.”

“What?!” he screams. The businessman snatches the cup from your hands, “That’s ridiculous! I demand to speak to your manager!” 

Fucking Karen. You let out a small sigh from under your breath and slip into your default customer service voice, “Yes, sir. One moment, please.” 

Mr. Karen gives a grunt of approval, “Good, I don’t have all day.”

You piece of shit. “If you’d just give me a moment,” you shout for your boss from the back of the shop before turning towards the customer, “He should be here momentarily.”

Less than a minute goes by when Mr. Tomato-Face starts tapping his foot.

Two minutes pass, still no sign of your boss. The businessman glares daggers into your soul, “Shout for him again.”

“Sir, he’ll be here in a few. Please be patient,” you grit your teeth.

Another minute goes by.

“Shout for him. Again,” Mr. Karen demands.

“Sir, like I said, he’s—”

Splash!

You fail to shield yourself from the splash of coffee chucked at you from the angry customer. Lukewarm coffee hits your chest and your face, drenching your apron and shirt in muddy brown. A hush falls upon the café patrons, most witnessing the volatile exchange.

“Sir.”

The deep but calm voice of the café owner—Vander Gallagher—breaks the silence of the room. He towers over Mr. Tomato, his muscular biceps on display with his fitted shirt. The businessman cowers pathetically under the massive figure of your boss, “Oh— I—”

“I’m asking you to leave the premises,” your boss states. He shoots you a glance and asks, “Would you like to press charges for assault?”

“No need,” you wipe off some coffee droplets from your face, “I’m not gonna waste my time on a lowlife like him.”

“Very well,” Vander looks down at the businessman and places a large hand on his shoulder, “How about you pay my kind barista over here so she can replace her uniform, alright? A fifty dollar bill should do, then you can be on your way.”

“O– O– Okay,” the businessman stammers, opening his leather wallet and pulls out the requested bill. Vander smiles at the coward’s cooperation and pockets the money, “Say smile!”

In a flash, Vander snaps a photo of your assaulter with his phone. The businessman winces at the sudden flash and retreats from the café once released from Vander’s hold. A few café patrons trade concerned frowns while others mumble among themselves. 

“Apologies, folks!” Vander puts on a cheery smile, “Please continue with your meals and drinks! All is well.”

Chitchat resumes in the café, whispers about the earlier scene reaching your ears. Vander enters the back with you and pulls you into a side hug. Defeated, you accept his touch and crumble.

“Take the rest of the day off,” he informs you. Shaking your head, you reply back, “I can’t, we’re already low as is– Don’t worry about it,” Vander cuts in, “I’ll take over for you and don’t worry about the pay, I’m still paying you for your whole shift.”

Tears prick in the corners of your eyes and you sniffle, “You sure?”

“I’m positive,” your boss confirms. He passes you the fifty dollar bill, “Here’s your compensation for that asshole. I’ll give you a new apron.”

“Thanks,” you offer Vander a weak smile and shove the bill in your pocket.

“Of course,” he chuckles, “

You strip yourself of your ruined apron and pass it off to Vander. He waves you goodbye and you leave for the small break room in the far back of the café. Wiping away any escaped tears, you approach your locker and crack the combination lock to open it. You toss your visor and name tag inside before removing your satchel and jacket from the locker, slamming it shut with an annoyed huff. 

Fucking asshole, you steam your anger out in your thoughts, as you exit the café, This was one of my favorite shirts, the stained shirt is of your favorite cover album of your favorite band, The Firelights. You plop down outside the café and hug your knees to your chest, I hate it here. I hate working here. I hate, I hate, I—

“Hi.”

A husky voice greets you. Peering up from your ball of sadness, you see the owner of the voice. It’s a bearded man dressed in a baseball hat and dark sunglasses, paired with a plain white T-shirt and blue jeans. His bomber jacket appears weathered from use; you narrow your eyes to get a closer look and notice a familiar symbol on the breast pocket, a tilted hourglass. 

“Can I sit here?” the man inquires, his broad stature blocking the blinding light of the sun.

“Sure, be my guest,” you mumble indifferently. 

The man takes a seat beside you and rests his head against the concrete wall, “Bad day?”

“Very bad day,” you reaffirm, pulling out of your sadness ball and stretching out your legs. 

The man beside you raises his eyebrows and points at your shirt, “You’re a fan of the Firelights?”

“Oh,” you nod and cast another look at his bomber jacket, “Yeah, I am. You are, too, yeah?” you gesture at the Firelights’ symbol on his jacket, “Judging from the jacket.”

“For sure,” he smiles at you, a pearly white and toothy grin. Despite his Goliath form, the strange man radiates oddly comforting energy, “What happened to your shirt, though?”

Your expression darkens at his question, “Some asshole threw coffee at me ‘cuz I wouldn’t give him a refund,” your words are sour like a lemon, “I doubt I’m gonna be able to get this stain out...”

“Want a new one?” the man asks.

“Want?” you furrow your brow, “Of course, I want a new one, but I don’t have room in my—” you cut yourself short. Why am I telling this man my life story?

“Let me get you one,” his voice is firm, “No ifs or buts.”

You run your hands through your hair, already exhausted enough from the day’s events, and relent to the stranger, “Fine. Deliver it to me the next time you come to The Last Drop.”

“Will do,” the strange man extends a large hand to you, “By the way, it’s nice to meet you, even though it was under not so great circumstances.”

You take his hand and it engulfs your own, as you two shake hands, “Nice to meet you, too, stranger,” you answer back.

The man before you removes his sunglasses and reveals his bright, hazel eyes. His eyes stare into yours and for a moment, all is silent. Pretty, you think to yourself.

“Jayce, actually.”

“Mm?”

“My name’s Jayce. What’s yours?”

You tell your name to Jayce and he grins.

“What a beautiful name.”

Your face warms up at his compliment, a contrast to the autumn chill. 

Noticing your flustered expression, Jayce simply smiles back.

“I’ll see you soon.”

───── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ─────

The Man of Progress. Golden Boy. The One Who Revolutionized the World.

Jayce Talis has many names in reference to his extraordinary work with Hextech and other inventions powered by  new, once unknown sources of energy. He’d been dreaming of changing the world ever since he was a child.. In his heart, Jayce knew he could and that the Universe would guide him to achieving it. 

In elementary school, Jayce discovered such a strange crystal, abandoned in the fields outside his house. It was unlike anything he had ever seen before, with its unnaturally vibrant blue color and rigid texture. That crystal would become the key to Jayce’s quest of bettering the world.

Years went by, as Jayce grew up from a chubby cheeked boy to a handsome, grown man. He sped through high school, college, and graduate school with the help of a lacrosse scholarship, but Jayce felt no fulfillment with his fancy degrees. His free time was dedicated to toying with the crystal. Hours were consumed by his non-stop research in his university’s lab, but no answers would come about.

Then Viktor Novak entered the picture, the second key to revolutionizing the world. 

A scrawny, vampirically pale man, Jayce would encounter him infrequently during his time at graduate school. As assistant to the Dean, Viktor had to be everywhere and juggle everything. The two would have the occasional conversation, but nothing bloomed beyond that; not until a chance meeting in the engineering lab that exposed Viktor to the allure of solving the mysterious crystal. 

Viktor shared the same dream as Jayce, to make the world a better place. With his cane in tow, Viktor climbed from the pits of the small subsector of St. Zaun to the skyscrapers of Piltover City; a brilliant man who wanted more in life than to be an assistant and to give power to his community. A dream that would come to fruition with the help of that little blue crystal. 

The night that changed the world involved the pair running through more equations and analyses than a stockbroker with cocaine. They were running on fumes and an empty coffee pot. In the midst of their sleepless delirium, Viktor suggested the impossible, “What if it’s from space?”

Jayce laughed his head off at the mere idea, his head throbbing from caffeine withdrawal and the desperate need to sleep. Yet, the steely glint of seriousness in Viktor’s eyes made the scientist quiet down. He never considered the possibility of the crystal’s origin being from space…the crystal’s structure was more similar to quartz than anything else. 

While Jayce pondered the possibilities, Viktor set down a streak test plate and filed the crystal against it. It sparked. At the same time, the lights in the lab flickered for a brief moment. 

Curious, Viktor rubbed the crystal against the plate again, inciting the same reaction from the lab lights. No material on Earth has ever done that. 

A crazy idea exploded inside Jayce’s head. 

He grabbed the crystal off the streak plate and secured it inside the lone centrifuge in the corner of the lab, much to Viktor’s horror. He scolded Jayce for such a reckless act, but Jayce fired back with the notion that if the crystal was an unknown material from space, they couldn’t operate under Earth rules. 

Unable to argue with his logic, Viktor handed his fellow scientist some eye protection and stepped far away from the centrifuge. Jayce strapped goggles firmly around his eyes and steadied himself with a deep breath. He d turned  on the centrifuge and history unfolded before their very eyes. 

The crystal spun like a gymnast on steroids. It spun and vibrated and spun some more until– 

The centrifuge exploded in a flash of blue light, energy rippling through the lab. Lights in the lab intensified for a moment before blinking out, engulfing the room in darkness. Jayce and Viktor ran to the windows and stared outside in a mix of awe and concern. The power grid for the entire campus was fried, shrouding the university in pitch black. Viktor hobbled back to the damaged centrifuge and brushed off some debris, picking something up. In his hand, the crystal laid unharmed.  

Jayce Talis and Viktor Novak, a pair of terribly exhausted and somewhat deranged scientists, discovered renewable energy unlike anything the world had ever seen.

They secured the funding of sponsors like Medara Industries, the potential of getting their grubby hands on potent energy was too powerful to resist. Jayce and Viktor developed a wide variety of inventions powered by the energy of the crystal, which they dubbed as the Hex Crystal. From engines for cars to prosthetics, the two’s inventions soared them into the stratosphere of fame and glory. While Viktor preferred to be in the shadows and tinker away in the lab, Jayce was made for the spotlight; he enchanted the nation with his charm and smarts, cementing his place as America’s Sweetheart and The Man of Progress.

Jayce Talis achieved his dream of changing the world… but the cost of such victory would catch up with him eventually. 

───── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ─────

Seven years had passed since the discovery of Hextech and the founding of Hex Energy Incorporated. A board of directors and investors was established and managed a bulk of the corporation, such as marketing and finances. Viktor Novak, one of the two founders, became the CTO—chief technology officer—but still dedicated his time to hiding in his personal lab and creating schematics for new inventions. As for Jayce Talis, the other founder, he maintained the position as chief executive officer, the CEO and smiling face of Hex Energy.

Jayce had everything, billions to his name. When the money from Hex Energy started rolling in, his first “purchase” was spent on his mother, Ximena. He ensured that her retirement would last for decades; she deserved it, after all, as she spent a good decade or so raising Jayce by her lonesome after his father’s passing. 

After setting up his mother for a life of comfort and security, Jayce’s later financial decisions were much more impulsive. He indulged himself in a playboy lifestyle with yachts, international trips, and mansions galore, brimming with the smooth and the sexy. Jayce lived it up like Bruce Wayne without a care, drowning himself in the thrills of fame and fortune. 

The appeal of such a life wore off eventually by the time Jayce entered his late twenties. There weren't enough fancy suits or round trips to Rome in the world that could compensate for his desire to do better for humanity. 

So, Jayce lit his playboy persona on fire and sold off his frivolous purchases for charity, turning a new leaf as a philanthropist. Like his co-founder and partner Viktor, who vowed not to be a millionaire, Jayce channeled his money into a variety of charities to lighten the load of his bank account, even creating a few of his own to invest funds in. With his new image, Jayce became America’s Favorite, a man who could do no wrong. In the eyes of the public, he was a hero.  

Truth to be told, Jayce Talis was a loser.

Or at least that was how he felt. Viktor was his only friend and his last—as well as  only—romantic relationship fizzled out after a year of courting. Of course, so many people wanted to be friends with the Jayce Talis, but no one wanted to be friends with Jayce Talis. Vultures, these fake friends Jayce had the misfortune of making during his stupidity in his mid twenties. Those stabs from those he trusted most took its toll on Jayce and little by little, he withdrew. In the blink of an eye, he vanished, hidden away in the comfort and safety of his penthouse. 

With Jayce out of the public eye, rumors sparked about his health and wellbeing. Gossip magazines ran article after article on the reclusive billionaire while paparazzi were on the hunt for a photograph of him in the hopes of a lucky break, to get the golden ticket from capturing the Jayce Talis. 

By the third month of “living up” as a hermit, Jayce received a wake-up call from none other than Viktor Novak. 

“Jayce,” his friend’s accented voice crackled from the speakerphone. Jayce’s phone rested on the glass coffee table, its owner preoccupied with scrolling through cable TV, “Jayce, you need to go outside.”

“I’m fine here.” Tombstone? No. Jumanji? No. God, there’s nothing but shit on cable.

“No, you’re not,” Jayce could hear his partner pinching the bridge of his nose in frustration, “You haven’t left your penthouse in months. It’s unhealthy,” Viktor sighs, “and that’s especially bad when the man with the terminal lung disease says so.”

“No matches yet?” Jayce powered off the TV and picked up the phone, taking it off speaker and holding it against his ear. 

“No, not yet, but I’m still top on the list,” answers Viktor, “But this isn’t about me, Jayce. I’m calling you as a warning.”

“A warning?”

“Yes, a warning. The board has been talking. There have been… discussions of your absence and your role with the company.”

Jayce’s grip on the phone tightened, “What have they been saying?”

“That they want you to resign.”

Within Jayce’s hand, the phone screen threatened to crack from the pressure.

“I’ll be in the office tomorrow morning. Bye, V.”

“Wait, Ja–” the CEO hung up the call with a huff. Jayce collapsed back down against the plush sofa and stared at the ceiling fan. His eyes followed the spinning, Resign? Are they insane?! They wouldn’t have jobs if it wasn’t for me and Viktor! 

Jayce pushed himself off the sofa and dragged himself to the bathroom, What assholes. When I get back tomorrow– Jayce’s train of thought vanished, as he took sight of his reflection in the bathroom mirror. No longer did a clean cut and shaved Golden Boy appear in the mirror, but rather a dishevelled beast of a man. His hair reached just above his shoulders, paired with an unkept beard. Depression beard, huh?

Jayce made a quick call to his stylist Margot, who was surprised to hear from him—I thought you died! was how she put it—and scheduled an appointment for later that day to address his beauty emergency. With the appointment confirmed, Jayce entered his Spotify app and turned on whatever ‘motivational’ playlist he could find.

Pumped up music played throughout the bathroom, as Jayce showered for the first time in weeks. Lathering him with bourbon-scented wash products, Jayce relished in the relief that the hot water provided him. He exited the shower back into the steamy bathroom and dried his body and hair, finally clean after weeks of bed rotting. Jayce hated to admit it, but showering did help his mood. 

Once dried, he left the bathroom and threw on a makeshift disguise. Jayce knew that the public wouldn’t recognize him with such long hair and a beard, but he couldn’t take the risk. He dressed as generic as possible and topped it off with his bomber jacket from his college days, the tilted hourglass symbol from his favorite band The Firelights stitched on the breast pocket.

Sunlight greeted him when he vacated his penthouse and outside the apartment complex. He winced at the brightness and covered his eyes with a pair of sunglasses. Jayce wedged his way into the foot traffic, making his way to Margot’s studio. 

A sudden pang of hunger hit Jayce’s stomach, accompanied by a loud growl. Guess I could go for a bagel and some coffee. He continued walking until he caught sight of a café, one surprisingly close to Margot’s. Exiting the bustling sidewalk, Jayce made a beeline for the café, with the words The Last Drop written on its sign.

He reached out for the door, ready to go inside–

Jayce hears a sniffle. 

Close to the entrance of the café, he sees a young woman hugging her knees to her chest. Jayce takes a step closer and the pleasant scent of coffee hits his nose, unsure if it’s from the café or the woman. He hears more sniffling and frowns. Poor thing.

“Hi,” the greeting stumbles from Jayce’s lips without thinking.

At the sound of his voice, the woman lifts her head from her knees and looks around the area, her eyes landing on Jayce. His chest constricts like a boa had wrapped itself around it. The hunger in his stomach is replaced by the sensation of nervous butterflies. The woman before him couldn’t have been more than 25 or 26, but the dark circles under her eyes age her. Poor thing, she looks overworked.

“Can I sit here?” Jayce asks in a gentle manner, not wanting to frighten or come off as creepy. 

“Sure, be my guest,” the woman mumbles. 

Jayce plops down beside the woman and rests his head against the concrete wall. Eyes hidden behind polarized sunglasses, Jayce casts a sympathetic look and smiles at the poor lady, “Bad day?” he inquires.

“Very bad day,” she answers, exhaustion and sadness evident in her tone. The young woman stretches out her legs and lets out a defeated sigh. Jayce opens his mouth to offer reassurance when he notices her shirt, it features the album cover of Misfit Toys, one of the earlier albums from The Firelights. Near the neckline of the shirt, there’s a prominent brown stain splattered on it. 

“You’re a fan of the Firelights?” Jayce points to your shirt. It’s a rare sight to see someone wearing such early The Firelights merchandise unless they had been a fan since the beginning. 

They complimented their merchandise and the familiar feeling of awkward silence begins to sneak its way in. Jayce, desperate to keep it going, blurts out a question about the prominent coffee stain on her shirt. And there goes your opportunity to be a normal guy, ‘Golden Boy’.

The woman’s expression soured at his question and Jayce bit the inside of his cheek. Shit, did I piss– “Some asshole threw coffee at me ‘cuz I wouldn’t give him a refund,” she spits out to Jayce, “I doubt I’m gonna be able to get this stain out,” her eyes glisten with tears. 

Jayce’s instinct is to embrace the woman and comfort her, but he restrains himself from being overly affectionate with the stranger. Don’t come off as a creep, don’t come off as a–

“Want a new one?” Don’t be a creep, Jayce! Damn it!

“Want?” the woman perks up at his offer and furrows her brow, “Of course, I want a new one, but I don’t have room in my–” she shuts herself up and lowers her gaze. Don’t have room in your what? Jayce ponders, In your budget? What has the world come to that someone can’t buy a shirt without worrying about their finances?

“Let me get you one,” Jayce reasserts, unrelenting, “No ifs or buts.” You deserve it after the horrible day you had.

The woman runs her hands frustratedly through her messy hair and concedes, “Fine. Deliver it to me the next time you come to The Last Drop, I work the rest of this week until Friday,” Jayce does an internal fist bump of victory.

“Will do,” he takes a mental note of the T-shirt design. To Jayce’s surprise, he extends his hand out to the woman, a gesture of good faith, “It’s nice to meet you,” he smiles, “Even though it wasn’t under not so great circumstances.”

The woman takes his hand and intertwines it with hers, so small and dainty in comparison. She shakes his hand and returns the good regards, “Nice to meet you, too, stranger.”

Jayce relinquishes his hand from the handshake and takes off his sunglasses, no longer bothered by the sunlight. He locks eyes with the woman, the world around them suddenly silent. Why do I feel so nervous? Jayce questions himself, God, guess I really have been a hermit that I’m getting all flustered just from looking at a woman. The woman bats her eyelashes and slightly parts her lips, likely a subconscious response. Nonetheless, it sends arrows straight into Jayce’s heart, his pupils engulfing his hazel irises. 

“Jayce, actually,” he breaks the silence.

“Mm?” the woman tilts her head at Jayce.

“My name’s Jayce. What’s yours?”

And she, you evidently, answer his question. Jayce grins. A beautiful name for a beautiful woman, “What a beautiful name.”

Your eyes widen a bit and you avert your gaze to conceal your flustered face. Jayce can’t help but smile. Adorable. His phone buzzes with an alarm notification, alerting him that his appointment with Margot is in five minutes. Jayce springs up from the ground and bids his farewell, “I’ll see you soon.”

He walks away from the café, purposefully slow. Jayce takes a few sneak peeks from behind to see if you’re still outside the café. There’s no sight of you, you probably left to take care of your soiled shirt. 

The bell above the door jingles, announcing Jayce’s arrival to Madame M’s, Margot’s studio. It’s uncomfortably empty, no sounds of blow dryers or chitchat between stylists and customers. Why is it so empty?

High heels clicking against hardwood floor signals the arrival of a blonde woman with green makeup, “Jayce, baby!” the blonde–Margot–embraces Jayce and gives him a smooch on each cheek, “I’ve missed you so much!” she leads him to a salon chair and drapes a cover over his front, “Where have you been, darling? You vanished off the face of the Earth!”

“It’s a long story,” the CEO awkwardly chuckles.

“Wanna get into it?” the stylist hums, as she rummages through her styling tools. 

“I rather not,” he answers. 

Margot sets down a range of hair clippers and scissors on the table under the mirror, “No worries, just curious. Are we doing your usual today?”

“No, just a clean-up,” Jayce interjects. 

“Very well!” Margot claps her hands together, “This shouldn’t take too long then,” a small smile graces her lips, “Something’s different about you, Jayce.”

“Besides the long hair and beard?” Jayce snorts. 

“Besides that,” Margot grabs some hair clips and scissors, “You look like you went through Hell and I take it that this is your first day in public since your…” she sections off parts of Jayce with the hair clips, “...Your disappearance from the public eye a few months ago. You sort of look like a sad lump of shit..”

“Geez, thanks,” the CEO huffs. 

Margot runs a section of black hair through her comb and snips off the dead ends, “You ran into something,” snip snip snip, “Or someone.”

Jayce’s blood turns cold at her deduction and masks his shock with a cough, “Ah! Well, uhm… I did encounter someone, yes. You’re not wrong about that.”

A boisterous laugh rings in Jayce’s ears, as Margot continues to cut his hair, “Oh, darling! It’s written all over your face. That someone left a mark on you.”

“I was heading to get some coffee when I saw her outside the coffee shop, crying. She was having a bad day and I was trying to cheer her up, that’s all.”

“Mhm… I doubt that. She lit a spark in you. I can tell, of course. I’m French, after all.”

Jayce goes quiet and the earlier events play back in his mind; a toothy grin forms on his face when he remembers your honeyed voice and your beautiful eyes, “She was– is pretty, but that doesn’t constitute ‘lighting a spark’ in me.”

“Think about it deeper, baby. After months of your absence from the public eye, what did the one person you encounter today do?”

It clicks.

“She… didn’t recognize me?”

“Bingo!” Margot cheers, snipping off the last necessary strands from Jayce’s hair, “And isn’t that such a relief? To be unknown?”

Jayce mulls over Margot’s words while she touches up his beard. It is a relief to be unknown, Jayce had not been so since his college days. Talking to you had been the first normal conversation he had with someone in months—no, years—beyond Viktor, his mother, or his de facto sister Caitlyn Kiarmann. I have a chance to be normal. Glee and excitement bubble up in his stomach. 

“Look at your face, darling,” Margot whispers, “You look happy.”

Jayce focuses his gaze onto the salon mirror. He’s now cleanly groomed with a stylish haircut and beard, no longer a Sasquatch. The expression on his face is one of simple content, not too strong and not too weak. 

For the first time in months, billionaire CEO Jayce Talis looks happy.

All because of you, a disgruntled barista whose ruined day led to your paths crossing. 

[queers-gambit]

Perpetual L's and Overwhelming Dubs

prompt: slutty stranger bathroom sex on a train.

pairing: Tangerine x female!reader

fandom masterlist: Bullet Train

word count: 3.7k+

note: are all our safe words pineapple? i need this man to rail me, you know, for science. yep, that's right, Cherry has a new fixation! aren't y'all so lucky?

warnings: author has brain rot, smut (public, strangers, unprotected), obviously cursing, PWP.

Japan was bright, you decided with a soft smile on your lips; looking around the train station glowing in neon lights; some blinking, some colored, all fluorescent. People milled around every inch of the place, all walks of life from school children to professionals with briefcases, talking on the phone, running to make their departure. Couples held hands, families took meals together, and a few meters away, a little girl screamed when her brother stole her Momonga plushie.

You must've been enraptured with all around you that your shoulder bullied into someone else's on the platform, making you gasp an instant apology in Japanese. However, the man you had collided with just offered you a stoic look up and down, letting his lips pull in a half-smirk, checking in English with a thick accent, "My apologies, love. You all right there?"

"Yeah, I-I'm so sorry, I wasn't paying attention," you bid with a small smile.

"'S all right, pretty ladies like you can run into me all day," he smirked, eyeing you up and down before following after his snazzy-dressed companion - who slapped his chest forcefully.

"Leave the girl alone, mate," the man reprimanded. "Sorry, miss, he gets it in his head he's God's gift to ladies."

"It's really okay, it was my fault for not watching where I was going," you assured the men, glancing at your watch. "I'm so sorry, but I really can't miss this train. Safe travels, gents!" You bid, offering a simple wave, then scurried off - trying not to double back for the man with a mustache.

God, was that man handsome! Like, illegally handsome. Hauntingly handsome.

You'd even go as far as to say he was devilishly handsome! Those eyes? Beautifully clear blue, alluring, drew you in and held you captive. His cologne? Absolutely heavenly, borderline intoxicating. And he was built like a fucking mountain - tall, broad, slender hips, bulging muscles that looked as if they would rip his button-up.

Shaking your head, you rid yourself of the body-heating thoughts about the stranger you had just barreled into. Being horny got you nowhere, but being perpetually horny... Was the biggest fucking L. Sure, you could rub one out; you knew where the clit was and how to stimulate to your own pleasure (unlike most men). But it was something about a man sweating over you, thrusting into you with abandon; creating a mess in your guts, mind, and chest.

Yeah... You needed to get laid, you were fucking drooling over some stranger you had a 23-second interaction with.

However, upon entering your train and locating a seat in the hopefully peaceful quiet car, you mindlessly downloaded Tinder to pursue at your leisure, but only a few swipes in and you were exiting the app and deleting it (again) from your phone. The train was ready to depart the station, you cracking a bottle of water, looking back on your two-week Japanese excursion your job had sent you on.

And now, you were finally heading to your last stretch of meetings, requiring you to purchase an overnight ticket on one of the available bullet trains. Seemed the fastest, simplest, and most affordable way to travel - skipping out on upgrading to first class. Economy was just fine, you decided, perhaps doubting yourself when your eyes widened when you caught sight of the two strangers you ran into on the platform finding their seats a few rows up. There was a third man with them now that was left slumped in a spare chair - probably drunk off his arse, based on the man's grungy, disheveled look.

You tried not to thinking about the handsome stranger, but he was just a few rows up from you! God, you could practically smell his cologne from here, letting your mouth water slightly.

Yeah, perpetually horny was the biggest L - like you said.

Your thighs squeezed together as you crossed them, hoping the pressure was enough to relieve the build-up of warmth in your belly and cunt. Your headphones were placed, your attention diverting out the window, and tried to imagine if nobody else was in this fucking carriage - he could take you here and now.

After a few stops, your empty water bottle sought revenge against your bladder and ushered you to the closest bathroom. It wasn't as tight a squeeze as airplane bathrooms, but it was still a small facility to use. When done, you washed your hands as a knock sounded at the door, calling in Japanese, "Just a second!"

After unlocking the door and opening it, you actually flinched back slightly when the man from early with the '70s pornstache was stood directly in front of you.

"Well, don't you look like hell," you mused slightly.

"All in a day's work, love," he answered, stepping out of your way to let you exit the bathroom. He looked you up and down, asking, "So, uh, where you headed?"

You told him your stop, asking him the same. He told you, your mind doing mental gymnastics to understand that you both had a good bit left on this train... Surely, anything could happen.

"I'll let you, yeah," you half-smiled awkwardly, moving out of his way fully to give him access to the restroom.

"You know..." He trailed, pointing at the empty lavatory, "Could fit two."

You chuckled, "Yes, but I'm finished now - you go on."

He hummed, glancing up and down the train car - spying through the windows of the conjoining connection each car had. When he faced you again, he took a slow, calculating step forward, "That's not exactly what I meant, sweetheart."

You feet took a slow, calculated step back to find the wall, his smirk broadening. "Then how about using your words like a big boy and tell me what you meant?"

"You look like a smart girl, sure you can figure it out, yeah?" He leered over you, either foot standing between yours, nearly pressed into you but far back enough that he could maintain eye contact.

You pouted at him, "I don't read minds."

"Not sure it's me mind yah gotta read," he perked a single brow, glancing out the window again. "Now, I'd love t'stand here and ravish you the way I've wanted since you bumped into me earlier, but maybe exhibition isn't your thing."

"Judging me now?"

Now, both his brows slowly rose. His teeth poked out from between his smirking lips, praising, "Naughty girl."

"Maybe you're the one a bit nervous, hmm?" You quipped, boldly reaching forward to palm his cock - already half-hard. "What's wrong, mister? Don't want people seeing you so, hm, submissive?" You gave a cheeky flex of your hand, his hips bucking involuntarily.

"You fuckin' minx," he chuckled, hands to your waist now. "Get in that fuckin' bathroom or I might just have to give this whole fuckin' train a show."

"Better start charging them all," you whispered, hearing his growl before pushing his chest back to give you a little space. "You do this often, then? Proposition strangers into dirty bathroom sex on public, moving trains? Hmm? In a foreign country? Seems terribly disrespectful, don't it?"

"Sweetheart, the thoughts in my head about what I want to do to this body - those are disrespectful," he smirked. "Wanna tell me I'm not truly tempting you? You would've left by now," he pointed out, making your chest feel warm from the embarrassment you felt suddenly. You smirked and twiddled your fingers at him in parting, turned, and just before you could step away, you felt his arms lock around your waist. "C'mon, darlin', don't be like that," he hissed in your ear, your visible smirk spurring him on. "Not about t'beg yah, princess, get this pretty li'l arse in this stall."

You folded.

Being perpetually horny was an L, sure, but being propositioned by a handsome, hulking, muscly stranger was for sure a Dub, right?

You turned in his arms, lips only centimeters apart; breathing the same air, hand on his chest to ease him back into the bathroom stall. He grinned in triumph, and the moment you were over the threshold, still maintaining eye contact, he reached around you to click the lock in place.

"C'mere," he growled, surging forward to bring his lips down to yours finally - and just like that, your panties were done for. You moaned instantly, feeling something akin to relief when his lips molded against yours; all but immediately sweeping his tongue against the seam of your mouth.

Letting him in was mind boggling; literally making static fill your brain as your hand lifted to hold the back of his neck, threading into the hair at the nape of his neck. His mustache was stiff, wriggling in an irritating fashion against your upper lip and nose, but you didn't notice - too engulfed in the way he domineered every rational thought. His hands both pressed tightly to your ribs, then waist, down your hips, around to your arse - like he couldn't make up his mind where he wanted to touch you. So, he chose to touch you everywhere.

He was intoxicating; feeling drunk on his taste, smell, touch. He was warm, his curls a bit greasy but still shocking soft, and his lips - plush, welcoming, anchoring. You didn't even know his name, but you didn't need to! All you needed was exactly what he was doing: holding complete control over your heart, mind, and cunt.

Your stranger pulled back suddenly, offering a skeptical look, "There's no boyfriend, fiancé, husband I'm gonna have to look over my shoulder for, right?"

"Not since about 6 months ago, no. Do I need to ask you the same?"

"'Course not," he mused with a grin, kissing you again - but just a degree softer. Now, both his hands rose to caress either cheek; his tongue wagging against yours in more controlled caresses. One hand dropped slowly to hold your neck, pulse quickening, and your stranger smirked, muttering against your lips, "Cheeky girl."

You pushed him back half a step, offering him a once over before confidently reaching down for the end of your shirt and pulling it off over your head. Your companions mouth fell open when you revealed yourself to him, smirking as you opened your jeans to show a hint of the lace panties you wore. You told him your name, earning a confused hum. "My name," you explained, "figured you need to know what to moan." His tongue swept over his lips. "Gonna just stand there?"

He chuckled, checking his watch, then started unbuttoning his waistcoat. "Tangerine," he spoke simply.

"That your safe word?" You asked, shucking your jean clean off after toeing out of your shoes. "Hm, mine's pineapple."

"'S my name, love," he chuckled, opening his button up to reveal exactly what you thought - plains of smooth skin over rigid, bulging muscles. "So you know what to scream," he smirked.

You paused, stood in your panties, bra, and socks, asking through a small chuckle, "You're telling me, your mother carried you all those months in her belly, pushed you screaming - bloodied - into the world, looked at yah, and said, 'yeah, he looks like his name should be Tangerine'?"

He peeled his top half naked, your throat swelling close; swallowing harshly to clear your mouth of the overflow of salvia. Slowly, he moved closer to you, once again leering over you. He reached out for your neck, not too tight or aggressive, but forceful enough to tilt your head back. "'S a codename, love," he explained.

"Ah, so can't reveal the government."

"Exactly."

"The fuck kinda job you got that requires codenames?"

"The dangerous kind," he smirked, "wanna keep running your mouth or put it to other use?"

You chuckled and reached for his trousers, holding his eyes with yours as you easily unfastened him and hooked your thumbs into the waistband of his briefs and suit pants. His mouth parted slightly when the cooler air hit his exposed cock, asking, "Safe word?"

He snickered, "Pineapple's fine, love," he sounded far too amused, watching you get on your knees in front of him, "but I doubt we'll need - Oh, holy, fuckin' good God," he seethed through clenched teeth when you eagerly took him in your mouth.

He was bigger than what you were used to - like a full double the size your previous partners had been. He was longer, thicker, and Goddamn, was he sweltering in your mouth. You wondered how long it had been for him, feeling your panties dampen as you felt exhilarated to show this man with a "dangerous job" exactly what your mouth could do - and why he'd never forget your name.

"Oh, there's a good fuckin' girl," he groaned, collecting whatever hair he could in a makeshift ponytail; looking down his nose to watch you. His cock was overwhelming, but you were determined to earn the pleasure he would surely bring; mouthing around his cockhead, using one hand to pump what didn't fit, the other alternating between holding his hairy thigh for balance and cradling his balls.

A few times, you held his eyes with yours as you removed his cock with a pop; licking his shaft up and down like it was a popsicle on the Fourth of July. His jaw would clench each time, sputtering his breath. His veins were pulsing, prominent under the skin; making your cunt contract as his throat bobbed as he swallowed harshly, groaning.

"Li'l too good at this, baby, Goddamn," he breathed, chuckling to himself as he retracted his hips while holding your jaw. "All right, all right," he chuckled, "made your point, love. Get up here 'fore I lose my bloody mind."

You pouted, "I quiet like it down here."

"Darlin', I'm about to bust - "

"Isn't that the point?"

He chuckled and reached down to help you up, instantly searing you in a wet, messy kiss as he backed you into the sink counter; tasting himself on your tongue. It was erotic, something you were vastly not used to - no man ever being okay with you kissing them after having their dicks in your mouth.

But no, this Tangerine fellow was obviously built different.

One hand anchored your waist, the other dropping to toy with your panties gently; petting the waistband before sinking his hand lower. You shuddered lightly when his finger swept through your wet folds, both groaning in pleasure when he sunk knuckle-deep. "Feels so good, love," he praised, your legs widening your stance to let him better access; hand fully disappeared into your panties. "So fuckin' warm, yeah," he breathed, increasing his speed so he pumped aggressively. He didn't need a second finger, he was chasing your orgasm - purely focused on the way you withered before him.

"Tan," you whimpered, gripping his assaulting arm as he found your g-spot and chuckled darkly.

"Got it, there, did I? Yeah, let's see what you've got, love, c'mon."

You whined in your throat, leaning into his chest as your legs began to quake. You didn't get a chance to warn him, feeling that overwhelming urge to urinate - gasping loudly and needing him to support your body as his finger jabbed your g-spot to the point you were gushing into his hand.

"Oh, fuck yeah," he encouraged, stimulating you further; loving the feeling of your squirt in his cupped hand, "keep goin', good girl, that's it, yeah? I got yah, good girl, there you go."

You grunted when he slowed his hand to the point the heel of his palm ground into your clit. Feeling overstimulated, your hand slapped to his meaty forearm, meeting his eyes with a glare, begging, "Okay, okay, okay, you made your fuckin' point."

He grinned, "Didn't know I had that affect on you, love. Huh?"

"You could've offered to fuck me when I ran into you earlier and I would've bent over - right there and then," you whispered against his lips, licking into his mouth right after; making his own mind go blank.

"Feelin's mutual, doll," he nodded, using both hands to shred your lace panties from your hips with a shrill gasp. "Keepsake," he teased, showing you the ruined fabric before dropping it.

You offered him a coy look before turning around for him, not needing the instruction; meeting his stare in the mirror. Bracing yourself against the sink, you slumped over it, making him groan.

"Fuck, doll," he whispered, admiring the view and smoothing a hand over one bare cheek. "Just look at yah, ready fa' me, just drippin'," he bit his lip, giving a few pumps to his length as he looked you over; other hand toying with your weeping hole. He growled and slid his cockhead up and down your slit, both shuddering lightly; moaning in union when he notched himself at your entrance. His eyes met yours in the mirror, his mouth parted, slowly sinking forward to the fucking hilt - making you feel impossibly full.

"Oh, Jesus fuck!"

He chuckled, shifting his hips, "Keep it down, love, don't need anyone bangin' on the door, interrupting us, huh?"

"I'll be quiet when you get a smaller dick."

This made Tangerine genuinely snicker, "Fair enough."

"Fuck's sake!" You yelped when he suddenly pulled back, surged in, and started his own rhythm. Through the mirror, you saw the concentrated, cocky expression he wore; looking purely focused, mesmerized by the way his cock would disappear within you, only to reappeared - soaking wet, glistening.

"Feel's divine," he hissed, the grip on your hips sure to leave bruises. "God, this pussy's made fa me - grippin' s'fuckin' tight. Who was the idiot who let this go, huh?"

"Really wanna talk about my ex now?" You panted.

"Nah, don't need to - 's mine now," he grit, one hand letting go of your hips to bring down on the meat of your bottom. "Hear me? Huh? Fuckin' mine now," he pommeled your arse a couple more times. "Like that, huh? Don't you? Feel you fuckin' squeezin' me each time."

"Yes," you moaned. "Fuck, yes, yes, God, you feel fucking amazing."

"Keep talkin'," another slap that made you squeak.

You were nervous 'cause you never considered yourself the best at dirty talk, but still tried, "So fuckin' good, makin' me so wet. Fuck - never had cock like this, so good - so deep, so big. Don't stop," you whimpered, his feet repositioning to allow himself a new angle and speed to drill into you. "Fuck, yes," you moaned loudly, encouraging, "harder, please, yes, yes, yes! Just like that!"

The motions cause ripples across the flesh of your bottom, thighs quaking. You pushed your hand down your front, your partner groaning at the sight as you found your clit and started massaging; the contractions squeezing Tangerine's cock tightly. His one hand traveled around the front of you, sliding up to yank your bra from your breasts; palming one with fever before tweaking your nipple between his thumb and pointer finger.

"Fuuuuck, Tan," you whined, moaning. "Don't stop, please, 's too fuckin' good!"

"I've got yah, darlin', almost there," he grunted, folded a little more over your back so he could fondle you roughly. "Naughty fuckin' girl, lettin' me bend yah over like this - don't even know me. Just knew you needed my cock, huh, love? Ain't that right?"

"Yes," you moaned, orgasm fast approaching.

"Probably let me do whatever I wanted t'you, huh?"

"Fuck yes, whatever you wanted, however you wanted me!"

"At's a good girl," he grit. "Takin' me so well, so fucking good. Need this pussy again, hear me? Fuck," he panted, increasing his speed to an erratic pace, "need a taste, need yah t'squirt on me again. Need this pussy in all positions." He bared his teeth, increasing his speed, hissing, "Lemme hear you scream, love. Wanna hear my name. from that pretty fuckin' mouth, c'mon."

"T-Tan, fuck, Tangerine, I-I'm right there, I'm so close - OH FUCK!" Your orgasm made you reel back into his chest, milking yourself on his impaling cock. You gasped, mouth left wide as his hand constricted around your throat, his mouth hot against your ear; biting and licking as he grunted forcefully.

He gasped in your ear, moaning your name on a short repeat, shuddering as he stilled himself; coating your wet interior with his thick ropes of hot, heavy cum. Your eyes were closed, head tilted back to his shoulder; his lips actually soft as he planted several kisses along your neck (that he released) and shoulder. "Holy fuck, doll," he whispered, chuckling in disbelief. "'S a li'l too good."

You smirked, "Yeah, I've heard that before, you're not the first t'tell me."

"Ah, way t'ruin it, doll," he joked, making you chuckle breathlessly. "All right?"

"Mhm," you sighed, eyes opening. "You?"

"Never better," he mused softly, sighing as you both tried to regain your breath. He let out a single grunt as he held your hips, pulling his cock free; releasing a gush of cum from you both to drip from your cunt. As you both redressed, he eyed you for a moment, then mentioned, "Listen, love, uh... Don't miss your stop."

"I wasn't planning on it?"

"Good... Just..." He sighed, closing up his shirt. "Make sure you get off this train."

You stared at him for a moment, pondering, "This have something t'do with that 'dangerous job' of yours?"

"A bit."

You hummed, zipping your jeans back up sans panties. "Why don't you get off, too?" You asked softly.

"Can't, darlin', got a job t'finish."

You nodded, "Then be careful, yeah?"

He nodded in return, reaching out to pull you in close. He took a second to look you over, smirking slightly, "Worried about me, are yah?"

"I don't even know you."

"We'll change that," he eased. "Your phone?" You offered a small look before sighing, reaching for your phone, unlocking it, and offering it to him. He typed for a moment, a distant buzz heard from his own phone, then handed it back to you. "I'll call you up sometime, love," he smirked, watching you reach back to unlock the door.

"You better," you mused, letting him press one more searing kiss to your lips. You hummed, pouting slightly and telling him, "Behave, or we'll go at round two."

"Don't threaten me with a good time, darlin'," he pocketed your shredded panties with a cheeky grin.

"You still owe me for those," you pointed.

"Send a bill, I'll make it up t'yah."

You smirked, "No bill, but I'd take dinner."

To your honest shock, a sort of... Contemplating, soft expression took over his face, nodding, promising quietly, "I'll call yah, darlin'. Just make sure you answer."

[ part two: Shower Shenanigans ]

requesting rules and masterlist

Bullet Train masterlist

[formulawolff]

“you better.” — t.w.

pairing -> female driver!reader x toto wolff

word count -> idk y’all, my bad

warnings -> boss x employee dynamic, slight power imbalance, angst, cursing, gg being a little bit of a brat, toto being down bad (he would do anything for his woman, and he means it!), sexual innuendos, yadayadayada

a/n -> hiiiii it's me! i'm back with another gg x toto installment. i'm sorry if the writing is not my best, i've been a little rusty. this fic was a request idea sent to me a few weeks ago. anon, this one is for you! i hope y'all enjoy reading about them! <3

"god fucking damnit!"

blood roars in his ears as her helmet collides against the wall, forming a sizable dent. paint chips flutter to the floor, the figure inhaling a sharp breath as curses roll from her tongue, the driver pacing back and forth.

"fuck, fuck, fuck!"

the figure's jaw clenches as her arm sweeps along the nearest table, sending items flying in her wake.

all right, that was it.

the final straw.

time to intervene.

"you need to cut it out. you're acting like a child. you of all people know tantrums get you nowhere."

at his sentiment, her head swivels, nothing but pure, fiery rage flickering about in her stare. strands of hair are plastered to her forehead, her lip curling into a sneer.

"your orders cost me two positions. it cost me a podium this weekend. i think i deserve to be a little upset about it."

"it's only the beginning of the season, love," toto wolff tuts, folding his arms across his chest, "you have time to make up for it. you have so much time to win the title."

at his statement, she pauses, her brows furrowing together. he can sense her fury dissolving by the second, her rigid muscles relaxing as her shoulders slump. silence creeps in as she crosses over to the couch, curling up in the fetal position.

to put it lightly, it was a tough opening weekend in melbourne.

not only did she have to deal with the wake of the loss to max, she had difficulty familiarizing herself with the new car. the media was in a frenzy, circling around like vultures every single time she moved or spoke. fuck, she could barely even breathe without a microphone close by.

toto couldn't imagine how draining it must have been to deal with it all. there was an instance over the weekend where a reporter inquired about their sex life. following that, there were numerous questions involving when he was going to propose, when they were planning on having kids, and if she would retire if they had children.

she executed a brilliant drive during qualifying, managing to snag the third position on the grid, just behind lando and max. if all went according to plan, she would be able to push past lando at the start of the race, and be able to battle it out with max for the victory.

at the start of the race, she drove beautifully. she was able to surge ahead and get past both max and lando, sailing into the first position.

it was going perfectly until lap twenty-three, where there was a mishap with the steering. following the error came a miscommunication with strategy. although toto knew the tires would last a few more laps, it was not his call to bring her in to the pits.

the pit crew was not quite ready, fumbling with two of the tires. it was a painfully slow stop, her radios reflecting exactly how toto felt about the fiasco.

the call for the early pit ultimately cost her three positions, which ended up crushing her hopes of a podium on opening weekend.

following the race, she exchanged some heated words with the media. something along the lines of, "fuck off or you're going to feel that boom mic up your ass." of course, that sent social media into a frenzy.

so, when she decided to release some pent up emotions in her driver's room after the race, toto let her.

he couldn't blame her, really. this weekend was an absolute shit show.

yet, he knew they had to move forward from it. the helmet could be replaced. the dent in the wall could be patched. the team strategy could be tweaked.

there was nothing he wanted more than to just wrap her up in his arms, bringing her tightly against his chest. he ached to just hold her, murmuring all of the reassurances she needed to hear. he yearned to just pepper her beautiful face with endless kisses, just to hear that melodic giggle ring in his ears.

he couldn't though.

at least, not yet.

the team principal stays put, waiting until she gives him the cue.

it wouldn’t be verbal. it would be the way her body would shift toward him, inviting him over. it would be the way her arms would droop, begging to be held.

it wouldn’t be too much longer. any minute now.

as expected, she practically sinks into the couch, pleading for some sort of comfort.

there it was, that cue he was desperately waiting for.

he strolls over, settling into the cushion next to her, wrapping an arm around her frame.

"i-i just wanted to get a head start," there's a tug at his heart as her voice falters, "i wanted to prove to everyone that i could compete with max this time. i just wanted to win a fucking race after what happened last ye-"

"my love," the team principal exhales, a tender hand connecting with her back, just between her shoulder blades, "you have to keep your head up. you are not a failure just because you didn't finish on that podium. you are not defined by what happened last season. things are different now, so much more different."

in the light, he catches the gleam of a tear as it rolls down her cheek, "i just know they're all talking about me. they want nothing more than to see me lose. i just wanted to prove them wrong."

"we have so much time do that," his voice is barely a murmur, "we will make you a champion, my sweet girl. don't worry about what they all think. focus on me. focus on us. focus on how we can correct our mistakes."

the tears are flowing now, the streams glistening as she sits up, pressing her body against his. her head nuzzles into his chest, lashes fluttering as his hand begins to roam, gently kneading into her sore muscles.

"i-i'm sorry."

the words are merely a whisper, but toto hears them.

"why are you apologizing, sweet girl?"

"for acting like a brat," she still won't meet his gaze, her eyes fixated on the door, "i shouldn't have thrown my helmet."

the team principal hums, his fingers treading along the zipper of her suit, "it's all right, love. i think you should do it again, actually."

"stop it," she huffs, rolling her eyes, "you just thought my little outburst was hot."

"quite," his mouth ghosts over her ear, "take that anger out on me, actually. you know, you're quite sexy when you're all riled up."

"maybe i will." the corners of her lips twitch, and toto can't help but feel a twinge of satisfaction.

she was fighting a smile, and fuck, was she fighting one hard.

carefully, she swings a thigh over his lap, straddling him as the tip of her nose brushes against his, "maybe i will take my anger out on you, toto. i want you to do something first, though."

in his khakis, he feels his cock stiffen, his throat tightening as she leans in even closer, "w-what is it, my love?"

fuck, he did he loathe how much power she held over him.

she cocks her head, a hand drifting to his cheek. her thumb trails along his cheekbone, relishing the way he completely crumbles under her touch.

"i want you to inform the fia that i will not be participating in any press for the next three races. will you do that for me?”

“sweet girl, you know i can’t do that—“

“please?” he can’t help but notice the way her bottom lip juts out ever so slightly.

all it would take is for her to bat those lashes once, and he would be done for.

and to his dismay, she does just that, “i just can’t handle the press right now. it’s too much and—“

“consider it done, my love. a statement will be out by the morning.”

“good boy,” she purrs, pressing her forehead against his, “you’re the best.”

“anything you want or need, it will be handled. i can promise you that. i will do everything in my power to make sure that you become champion.”

her lips press against his, a shiver running down his spine as she smirks, rolling her hips. it takes everything in his power to stifle a groan as her fingers delve into the waistband of his khakis, his cock throbbing.

she has him right where she wants him, but he doesn’t mind.

not. at. all.

she was his princess, after all.

and what his princess wanted, she got.

it only takes four words for him to come undone, any coherent thoughts slipping from his mind as her hand wraps around his shaft, his breaths coming out in pants.

“you better, toto wolff.”

[pedantic-poison]

Rulebreaker | CS55

pairing: fem brat!reader x brat tamer!carlos sainz jr

genre: smut, 18+ MINORS DNI, language, dom!carlos x brat!reader, spanking (mostly with hands, briefly with a belt), sir kink, degradation, a wee bit of praise, names used for reader (princesa, cariño, slut, good girl), fingering, unprotected p in v (use protection irl!!!), mention of safeword but no use of it, aftercare

requested: sort of based on an ask I got for another driver that I couldn't make it work for

word count: 5.3k

author's note: i hope y'all like this one! i've been working on this for ages now and it got really really long so as always feedback of any kind is much appreciated!

You knew you weren't supposed to.

You knew you really weren't supposed to.

But it had been weeks without seeing Carlos and at this point you felt like you were losing your mind, so you muster the strength to drag yourself upstairs to your bedroom.

Really it was Carlos' bedroom, since you were housesitting for him while he was gone. You weren't sure if that was making it better or worse - constantly being surrounded by his things, sleeping in his sheets, wearing his shirts because they smelled like him.

At least for right now, those last two were about to be very helpful, as you dropped yourself onto the still messy sheets you'd been sleeping in, inhaling the scent of him as you grabbed your vibe from your bedside table where you'd stashed it. You knew you weren't supposed to touch yourself, so you really didn't even know why you'd brought it in the first place, but you just needed some kind of relief - even without Carlos here to give it to you.

The fluffy pillows and sheets seemed to envelop you as you sank further in them, sighing with contentment as you started to trail your hands along your inner thighs, briefly teasing yourself through your panties before quickly discarding them, leaving you clothed only in an old t-shirt of Carlos'. His name left your lips in a breath as the vibrator made contact with your clit, tracing light circles around the bud before slowly applying more and more pressure.

You felt yourself getting wetter as you went, the shirt so oversized that it rested below your butt, meaning that when a drop of your arousal trailed down from your cunt, it landed on Carlos' shirt. It was so filthy that a moan tore out of you, harsh and unexpected, at the thought of your arousal mixing with the smell of him on the shirt, digging your face deeper into the pillow next to your head to inhale him as much as you could. Your back had started to bow off the bed, legs twitching around your hand as you fought to keep them open. Forcing your other hand to leave its spot latched onto the sheets at your side, you slowly sank a finger into yourself, just barely brushing that spot as you -

Heard your ringtone go off.

Huffing in frustration, you instinctively went to turn your phone off when you stopped to actually read the name on the screen. You dropped everything else you'd been doing, picking up the phone before it finished the third ring.

"Carlos!"

His chuckle came through the speaker first, deeper than usual, and a little bit scratchy, telling you that wherever he was (you'd lost track at this point), he'd just woken up. "Hi, cariño, how're you doing?"

"I'm fine, I miss you though," you inhaled deeper than you normally would've, the effort to catch your breath reminding you of what you'd just been doing, and just how much you were not supposed to be doing it. "A lot," you added belatedly, swallowing hard to try not to show your actions in your voice.

"I know, I miss you too. Are you taking care of yourself while I'm gone? Your voice sounds a little hoarse." He was only being sweet, but your mouth went dry at the question, mind racing to try and come up with a convincing enough excuse that- "Cariño? Are you still there?"

Shit. "Oh, um - yes! Sorry, I think the call cut out or something," you mumbled, hoping if you said it quickly enough he wouldn't think too hard about what you'd said. "But yeah, I think I might have a little cold. Nothing too bad, but my throat's been a little," you cleared your throat with a small (and hopefully convincing) cough, "sore for most of the day."

"Oh, well I'm sorry to hear that, princesa," Carlos cooed sympathetically, but there was a slight edge to his voice that you found a little odd, almost mocking. "You know how I hate it when you lie to me." Confused at how he'd found you out, you freeze, your lack of a response prompting him to explain, "I can hear your vibrator buzzing through the phone. Not that I needed that to tell what you've been doing, but that makes it pretty obvious, no?"

Your eyes went wide, darting to the vibe where it sat, abandoned and still buzzing away, where you'd thrown it down on the sheets. Shutting it off quickly, you shoved it away under the sheets, like that would make any sort of difference when he'd already heard it and knew what it was.

"Carlos, I-"

"Honestly, cariño, did you really think I wouldn't notice?" His voice had gone hard, still gruff and deep from having slept, and that ache in your core that you'd temporarily forgotten about returned tenfold at the sound of it. "Did you forget how much time I've spent memorizing all the little noises you make? The way your breathing changes when you're close? The way you either talk too slow or too fast because you can't think straight? The scratch in your voice when you've had your mouth hanging open while you moan?"

You could only clench your thighs in response, inhaling shakily at his filthy words. The idea of him being so occupied with thoughts of you and the ways you sounded when he touched you these past few weeks made you flush with heat, feeling it spread down your neck and chest, under the fabric of his shirt.

"You only had to wait a few more days, and you couldn't even manage that, could you? So disobedient, princesa," his breathing had deepened, and you realized with a start that your hand had returned to the apex of your thighs, trailing along the hem of the shirt laying atop your bare legs where they were tucked under you.

"I - I'm sorry," you finally breathed out. "I couldn't help it. You've just been gone for so long, and your rules are so unfair." Your voice took on a whine as you spoke, flopping down onto your back dramatically as you sighed. You'd been caught, so there was no real point in trying to behave anymore.

Carlos chuckled again, this time much darker than the last, "I know you think they're unfair, princesa. I can tell from how much you complain about them, and from how often you break them," voice tightening, like he was restraining himself. The sound of it sent your hand beneath the fabric of his t-shirt, creeping back towards your still exposed, still weeping cunt.

"Then maybe those rules should change," your fingers, still damp with your arousal, grazed your clit. "Since they don't seem to be working too well," the words rushed out of just a little too fast as you began to circle the bud again.

"Watch it, cariño. There's a reason you're not in charge," he warned, the exercise of authority making you whimper. "Now, be a good girl and get those fingers out of your tight little pussy."

You took a breath.

"Or what?"

Carlos' end of the call fell silent for a moment longer than you expected.

"You are playing with fire here, princesa."

The phone line clicked, and the call ended.

You tossed your phone to the end of the bed, frustrated in every way imaginable. If he was going to be such an asshole, the least he could do was let you get off to the sound of his voice while he was gone. Now, you were even more desperate than before, and in a few days' time when he returned, you knew he'd punish you.

A devilish thought occurred to you. If you were already in trouble, you might as well enjoy it then, right? Get as much out of the time before he came home as you possibly could.

You fell asleep right there later that night, satisfied (for now) and surrounded by the smell of Carlos and you mingling on his sheets. When the sun woke you, you'd slept so hard that for a brief moment the emptiness of the bed surprised you, before remembering that you still had four more days to go. And just like that, the frustration returned.

Completely undaunted by the disobedience now, you reached right down between your thighs, touching yourself to the thoughts of Carlos that had swum through your mind last night. You were so desperate.

So absorbed by the feeling of it.

So blind to anything but chasing that pleasure.

You didn't even hear the front door unlock.

Or the drop of a bag inside the doorway.

The sound of shoes walking through the living room.

Padding up the stairs.

Stopping in the threshold of the room.

Of his room.

"Dios, you are such a fucking brat."

The sound ripped you away from your fantasies, gasping as you sat straight up and nearly screaming out of shock. Carlos stood at the foot of your bed - his bed - watching you, dark eyes contrasting with the stark white shirt he wore, the first few buttons undone, and the sleeves rolled up his forearms. His hair was mussed (though probably not as badly as yours), like he'd barely slept on the plane, and his hands, hidden by the pockets of his dress pants, were undoubtedly clenched, judging by the bulging veins in his forearms. He looked furious.

He was furious. Had been ever since that phone call with you, after hearing your voice, breathy and full of attitude. He kept being furious during the pointless meetings he had to sit through for hours about god knows what, during the entire plane ride where his head swam with thoughts of you and what he would do to you when he got his hands on you, and during his drive back to his house where his knuckles went white from his grip on the wheel. And now, looking at you, sprawled in his bed, clad only in one of his shirts, moaning his name, he couldn't hold back the intense, primal feelings of possession that flooded him. With your face hot and breaths coming fast, eyes hazy with sleep and lust, and legs spread wide in front of him, leaving your pussy on display, glistening like you were welcoming him home, he knew he would've ruined you anyways, even without your constant disobedience. You couldn't follow his rules because you needed him that badly. Needed to feel his presence even when he wasn't there. He certainly had no issue with reminding you just how much he owned you.

"Carlos... you're... home early," you mumbled, out of breath from the shock of his arrival and the buildup of pleasure it ruined.

"Is that all you have to say for yourself?" He prowled closer to the end of the bed, and you subconsciously drew yourself closer to the headboard. You swallowed hard, clamping your jaw shut and refusing to give him any sort of answer. That would only make it worse for you. But you'd long since given up on staying out of trouble with Carlos.

That certainly wasn't new information to Carlos, either, but it still grated against him when you remained silent, the stubborn set of your brows as you tried your damnedest to stare him down only stoking his need to put you in your place. Glancing down to your still spread legs, Carlos allowed his eyes to trail hungrily over you once more, before reaching forward and grasping your ankle, tugging harshly. The force of it surprised a yelp out of you, bringing a grin to Carlos' face as he situated you at the end of the bed, legs spread to make room for him between them as he stood over you.

"Oh, princesa... you do know you're in trouble, no?" Fingertips grazed over your cheek, trailing down the column of your neck. When you remained silent, the light touch of fingertips became his full palm, hand wrapping around your throat, slowly applying the tiniest bit of pressure. "It's cute, this little act of defiance you put on. Makes me want to fuck the fight right out of you." The grip tightens briefly, before disappearing altogether.

Then your face presses into the bedsheets, Carlos flipping you onto your front. He does it so easily, manhandling you with such minimal effort that it sends a thrum of heat through you. Strong, large hands roughly grope your ass cheeks, spreading them apart so he can see your cunt clearly.

"Such a needy little slut," he tsks, laughing wryly as your pussy clenches from the cold of the air and the pure filth of his words. And then, the heat of his hands and body are gone. You whine, knowing that with the mood he was in, he would make you wait and wait and wait before he followed through on his promise and actually fucked the defiance out of you (or at least tried to).

Turning your head to the side, you watch as Carlos settles himself on the side of the bed, cock already visibly hard through his trousers. "Get up," he tells, not asks, you, voice stern. The doting, adoring Carlos that you loved had taken a backseat to this almost predatory side of him, and you had to admit you loved it just as much. Opting to listen (for once) you stand up from the bed. "Good girl," he hums, pleased, "now strip for me." It's an easy enough task, shedding his shirt and letting it drop carelessly to the floor. His eyes don't leave your body for a moment, raking over your naked figure as if he'd never seen you before. Wordlessly, he patted his thigh, beckoning you to him, and you went willingly. You knew what he was telling you to do, but you still optimistically went to straddle him, earning you a swift smack to the thigh you had raised up onto the bed. "You know exactly what you're supposed to do right now, cariño. Don't make me tell you."

The contact had ratcheted up your awareness, feeling his every breath as you laid yourself across Carlos' lap, ass in the air and hands already gripping onto the bedsheets in front of you, knowing what was coming. "There, was that really so hard? Always wanting to cause trouble," he mused, hands caressing your ass again. "Always so big and brave in the beginning," his left hand traveled up your spine, tracing its path to the base of your neck. "But by the time I'm done with you, when I have you begging and shaking and crying for me, you always remember who's in charge."

The hand at the base of your neck grasped the hair there, yanking your head up and back so he could whisper into your ear. "You remember your safeword, mi amor?" he asked, checking in on you before actually starting anything.

"Yes, sir" you managed, speaking for the first time since you'd first seen him at the foot of the bed. He nodded, placing a kiss to your temple before shoving your head back down into the sheets.

Returning his left hand to the small of your back, while his right groped your ass, Carlos' voice resumed its darker timbre. "I spent a lot of time thinking about what kind of punishment you deserve for your little stunt over the phone." The thought of Carlos stewing in anger and lust for hours and hours making you shiver. "But that was before I came home to find you, knuckles deep in this needy little hole," he lets his fingers brush just barely against your entrance before retreating. "Same rules as usual, princesa: you count out loud for me, and if you miss one, we start over. You tell me when you're close, and if you come without my permission, we start over. Understood?"

Your nod earned you a sharp pinch on your cheek from where his hand had been tracing circles. "Yes, sir," you breathed out quickly, knowing by now what he was looking for.

"Good." With one final, gentle swipe of his hand, you feel his right hand leave your body, tensing in its absence. You feel its impact land, firmly, but not too harshly - yet.

"One," you breathe out, head tilted to the side to ensure he hears you clearly. He lands another spank. "Two." Harsher this time. "Three." Despite bracing yourself, you still flinch with every smack, body jolting as the sound echoes in the otherwise silent room. "Four." Your voice has already grown weaker, breathier. Heat rises where the blood has rushed to your stinging skin, already sensitive. "Five," he lands the next slap as you're inhaling to brace yourself, speeding up suddenly. "S-six, ah." Without meaning to, you squirm in his lap, earning you another quick slap that shocks a gasp out of you.

"Stop moving, princesa, or I will tie you down and make you take everything I give you," he grits out. "Got it?"

"Y-yes, sir."

"And what number was that?"

For a brief moment, your mind scrambles, distracted and overwhelmed. "S-seven?" It comes out as more of a question than an answer, and you cringe at the uncertainty of your own voice.

"You sure?" his hand stills on your ass, making your panic grow. But you can hear the lilt of his voice, can tell that he's trying to throw you off.

"Yes, sir," you answer, more confident this time.

"Good girl," he praises, but it's short lived, as another smack lands.

"Eight." The spanks are harder than they initially were, building in intensity, your skin aflame from his rough touch. "Nine." You're doing your best not to wriggle, hands clenched in the sheets like you're fighting yourself to stay put, but that doesn't stop the shakes wracking through your body. "Ten." Relief floods your body, knowing that, on a normal day, this is where Carlos stops. At this point he's gotten you drenched, arousal slicking your thighs, and part of you wonders if you've left a damp spot on his trousers. That little relief goes out the window when you feel his hand against you again, landing two harsh spanks in quick succession. "Eleven," you heave, "twelve."

The sound of Carlos' belt clinking as he removes it makes you freeze. "Carlos?" you question, voice small and unsure.

"I told you, cariño, the punishment I had planned for you at first was before I found you touching yourself, again." His left hand wraps around the front of your throat, bringing your torso up so he can speak directly into your ear once again. "The punishment needs to fit the crime, and you've been very, very bad," he coos, grazing your ass ever so slightly with the belt in his right hand. You shiver. "I'm gonna give you two with this, and then we're done with the spanking, alright, cariño?"

After a moment, you nod, and the slight tick of a pressure increase on your throat reminds you to speak your answer. "O-okay."

The leather of his belt drags against your inflamed flesh, before he pulls his hand back. He allows your head to return to the bed, resting it back against the sheets, and you hear him wrapping the belt around his right hand.

When the belt cracks against your ass, you cry out, body lurching forward, nearly leaping out of Carlos' lap before he grabs you by the hip, holding you in place. "Thirteen," you whimper out, voice breaking. Carlos' free hand rubs soothing circles against your hip, calming you down from the jolt of the impact. "Fuck, fourteen." Your breathing has gone ragged, chest heaving in an uneven, staccato pattern. You feel Carlos throwing your body around again, tossing you onto your back on the bed as you try to catch your breath.

He stands over you again, a predatory glint in his eyes, not giving you time to recover before sliding a finger straight inside of you. It punches the air out of you, your moan silent without air in your lungs to put any sound into it. Carlos chooses a rapid pace, aided by how wet you've become, and the squelch of him pressing a second digit into you is the most obscene sound you've ever heard.

"God, you look so fucking good like this, princesa. Shaking around my fingers," he curls them, hard, to make his point, grinning at the way your body reacts to the touch. "Such a desperate little slut, aren't you? My desperate little slut."

The sting of his palm landing on your inner thigh forces your eyes open. "Yes, sir - oh, fuck- only for you," you squeak out. You realize with a start that there are tears forming in your eyes, most likely from your punishment, though the way your building pleasure mixes with the pain only intensifies the feeling. The tension in your belly goes taught as Carlos' thumb begins drawing circles on your clit, arching into his touch. Everything you're feeling is so overwhelming, you almost forget yourself. "C-close, sir, I'm - ah - close."

"Yeah? You wanna come, cariño?" His eyes glint at the sound of your pleas, incoherent as they may be. "Too bad," he growls, pulling his fingers out of you as you whine at the loss of contact, earning you another light smack to your inner thigh. "Don't be greedy, amor."

"I - I'm sorry, sir," you sob out, chest heaving for breath.

Rough hands grip you by the waist and harshly yank you to the edge of the bed, flipping you onto your stomach and letting your legs hang off the bed, toes just barely skimming the ground. Carlos traces patterns on the red, raw skin of your ass, and you flinch away from the feeling without meaning to. In response, Carlos digs his hand into the hair at the base of your neck, tugging you up to speak directly into your ear.

"I'm going to fuck you now, cariño, and you're going to take everything I give you, or you don't get to come, got it?"

"Y-yes, sir."

"You going to take it like a good girl, princesa?"

"Yes, sir, yes, whatever you want, I'll be good," you fought to keep the needy edge out of your voice, not wanting to sound too demanding of him.

"Good girl," Carlos left a series of searing kisses down your neck, trailing onto your shoulder and down your back as he let you fall back down onto the bed. He hadn't even fucked you yet and you had already gone completely limp, unable to hold up your own body weight.

A large, warm hand splays across your lower back as his lips reach it, touch gentle but firm as he holds you to the bed, standing to his full height again as he yanks his trousers and boxers down just enough to pull himself out.

"Look so beautiful like this, princesa, such a pretty little slut for me," Carlos rasps out, voice low and gravelly, and you can tell just from the sound of it that he's stroking himself. Trying to make you squirm, testing to see if you'll whine at the lack of attention, or do that thing where you wiggle your ass at him to try to get him inside you. But at least for the time being, you're done misbehaving. You need him too badly to risk it being taken away again.

"Just for you, sir. Only you," you whisper, just loud enough for him to hear so he doesn't think you're demanding anything, throwing a glance over your shoulder that you hope strikes the right balance between obedience and seduction.

Based on the way his eyes darken and the hand spread on your back presses done just the tiniest bit more firmly, you're pretty sure you succeeded.

You know you did when he starts to slide into you, eyes staying on yours as both of his hands land on your waist. The feeling of him pushing into you, on top of the thought of just how much of you his hands manage to cover, has your head dropping back down onto the bed with a moan.

Carlos' mouth tilts up in a grin at how quickly you fold, how immediately you become pliant once his dick is in you. Hell, he hasn't even bottomed out yet, and you're already squirming and whining and clawing at the sheets. "Taking me so well, princesa," he coos, just as he snaps his hips flush with yours, filling you up the last few inches suddenly. The combination of him completely filling you, and the praise makes your head spin, and he knows it. It's why he knows to hold back the praise, to mix it in with the degradation, because that makes it all the more potent when he finally gives it. When you finally earn it. Plus, you get off on disobeying him too much for him to not make you work for it - otherwise, you'd have turned into a little monster by now. The thought makes him grin further to himself, thinking that at least you're his little monster.

He knows your body too well. Carlos can tell from the way you're squirming that you're beyond desperate for him to move, but that you're trying even more desperately to be good for him, to hold still, to take what he gives you and not demand anything more. Kisses trail down your back and shoulders, and even though you can feel the smile on his lips, you don't have the mental strength to process what it means right now. Carlos likes it when you have to try like this, likes that he can do this to you, can make you this needy for him, and that despite all of that, your need to please him, to be good for him, overrides your own desire for pleasure. For all of your talk and pretended disobedience, the moment he's in you, you submit to him completely. When he thinks about it too hard, it makes his cock throb inside you.

The sound of your whimpers draws Carlos back out of his thoughts, the noises escaping despite your best efforts. "Being a good little slut now that you're full of my cock, huh? Fuck, princesa, I love those pathetic little noises you make." He bends over you again to speak directly into your ear, and you whine at the way it makes him shift inside you. "I want you to let me hear every single one, cariño. Don't hold back on me, no?"

"I w-won't, sir. I won't, promise," you babble. At this point, you were willing to say damn near anything as long as it meant he would start moving.

"Good girl," he purrs, staying bent over you as he slowly pulls out until just the head of his cock remains inside you. Again, he pauses there for a moment, relishing the way you whimpered as he moved. Then, after he's had his fill of making you squirm in need, he thrusts back in, hard. It knocks the breath out of you, forcing a sharp cry from your mouth at the sudden and harsh way he fills you back up. He continues the pace like that, pulling out slow and thrusting back in with as much force as he can, hips slapping your already raw and sensitive ass when they meet yours.

You keep your promise to Carlos, letting every little sound he elicits from you out unabashedly, your small ah-ah's turning almost into shouts each time his hips are flush with yours. His hot breath on your neck and his broad, firm chest pressed to your back make it impossible to think about anything other than Carlos, Carlos, Carlos. The way his body cages yours in while he manhandles you, pulling your hips to where he wants them, has your moans ripping out of your chest with even more force. As Carlos starts to snap his hips faster, not pulling out all the way in favor of increasing his pace, each thrust punches noises out of you, becoming increasingly embarrassing the more worked up he gets you.

"Fuuuck, that's it, cariño, let me hear you, let me hear how good I make you feel," he encourages, one hand snaking into the hair at the base of your skull to force your face out from its hiding place in the bedsheets. "Wanna hear how much you like it when I fuck you like this. You like this, princesa? You like taking my cock like a good little slut?"

You can only whine desperately, nodding as best you can with Carlos' grip on your hair tightening. "Yeah? Say it, then, princesa. Tell me how much you love taking my cock."

It takes you a moment to process his words, mind feeling hazy from the lust and from returning to the brink of your orgasm, and the delay has Carlos fucking into you just the slightest bit harsher. "Fuck! I - I like it! I love t-taking your cock, sir, love b-being your s-slut, please," you gasp out the last word, the air forced from your lungs by the combination of the force of his thrusts and his other hand landing on your clit.

"Please what? Use your words, princesa." At first, the only response he gets is your high-pitched squeal as his fingers press harsh circles into your clit. "Come on, cariño, you can do it, use your words and tell me what my little slut wants."

"P-please, sir, please let me come, please sir, please," you babble, words becoming incoherent shortly after, devolving into whimpers and keens that resemble words like please and sir over and over again.

"Aw, look at you, cariño, using your words and asking so sweetly," he coos, causing your face to flush with heat even further at the mixture of praising and teasing words. "Alright, princesa, you can come. Come all over my cock for me, yeah? Come all over me so I can fill you up, wanna feel you clenching around me when I come in you," Carlos begins to ramble. Getting closer and closer, he tips over the edge as you come around him, walls squeezing tight around his pulsating cock as it throbs in you, marking you from the inside out.

Carlos doesn't pull out right away, basking in the feel of you wrapped around him, head resting between your shoulder blades as he gropes your ass. Occasionally, he squeezes particularly hard, and you whimper from the sensitivity, drawing a deep chuckle out of him that reverberates against the bare skin of your back. Carlos begins leaving kisses down the line of your spine, slowly drawing out of you.

Your body sags even further into the bed, completely spent, and you jolt away from him when you feel two large fingers at your entrance. With his other hand, Carlos grips your hip, holding you in place, as he watches his cum drip out of you, slowly pushing it back in with his fingers. "Can't let this go to waste, cariño. Got to make sure you remember who's in charge, no?"

You nod weakly, no energy or desire left to fight him (for now). Once Carlos is satisfied with his reminder to you, he rises, gently pulling you off of the bed and into his arms. He scoops you up easily, cradling you as he walks to the bathroom and gets the water running, kissing your head softly and murmuring praise as he sits on the edge of the tub, holding you to him tightly. Your body curls into the warmth of him, allowing yourself to be cared for since you're not even sure you could stand on your own right now. He says something about not falling sleep just yet, and then he's lifting you into the bath, smiling fondly at the pout you throw his way when he stops holding you. "Don't worry, cariño, I'm not going anywhere," Carlos hums, slipping in behind you and pulling you to his chest. "I'm staying right here."

[thebluester2020]

[ZZZ] "How To Recieve An A+ In Housekeeping!"

Summary: Attempting to get a job in Victorian Housekeeping Co. is a very strenuous process! One must show a wide variety of skills, good vocabulary, and excellent manners— all three were skills that you were failing at but, luckily the leader of the company had the perfect method to teach you these skills and it all starts with a program! Warning(s): Dom! Lycaon / Sub! Reader, Brat-Taming [Reader's a bit mouthy at best tbh] Spanking, Slight Edging, Cum Denial [Kinda? Lycaon encourages reader not to cum but doesn't do anything to enforce it tbh], Lycian being gentlemanly as hell. (Feel free to tell me if I missed anything!) Side Note(s): I won't say I am/am not a furry. But I will say that my taste in dudes will always favor them where they're stoic and serious but have a secret soft side. Respectfully, those types of men make me want to do the sexy splits on them.

Anyway, hope y'all enjoy this <33

"Your manners are terrible"

When those words left the wolfman's mouth sternly as you sat before him, only a desk separating the two of you, you could've sworn you felt a metaphorical anvil drop into your stomach. You had been job-hunting for a couple of weeks now, after your last gang had disbanded due to the leader getting caught up with the law. You no longer had a steady flow of cash (albeit a little illegal ) coming in!

From gang member to attempted housemaid...it was laughable. Even to you.

And clearly, the leader of the Victorian Housekeeping company thought so too from the way he looked at your resume with a strict gaze once more before resuming looking at you. You were fully expectant of another harsh sentence to slip from his sharp-toothed youth until...you heard a heavy sigh escape him.

He leaned back in his chair and crossed his arms, the very room seeming to react to the movement by the way the single light above you two flickered. His then he huffed. "There is a way to improve to improve your manners, however, you'll be learning from me personally."

You gasped. "Really?! Thank you so much, man!"

His ear twitched at the casual "man" you threw his way. "...Sir or mister is a more proper way of speaking to your male superiors."

You cleared your throat and uttered a 'sorry'. "The program will be for three weeks. Each week will be dedicated to a specific set of manners that you are to master if you wish to join the company."

"Which are?" You responded.

"The first week will be vocabulary, communication with clients, and the correct words to address people by," As Lyacon said this, he opened a drawer on his side before pulling out a piece of paper and sliding it to you. You slowly began to read over the paper, one that seemed like a contract of sorts as the wolf continued to talk.

"The second week will simply focus on posture."

You scoffed as your eyes flicked back up to his. "Posture? Ain't that just walkin'?"

"Proper posture is harder to achieve than one may assume Ms. Y/N." He said. "The third week will be—"

The sudden clearing of his throat made him stop immediately, your face suddenly but quickly turning red as you reached a section on the paper that caught your eye.

Complete submission is expected by those who train under Von Lycaon, especially those he offers "favors" to.

"F-Favors...?"

"Favors hint towards a sexual nature, if I'm to assume that was the inquiry to your question?"

In your former gang, you had heard about Von Lycaon and the whole attitude of the white wolfman. He was a pinnacle of perfection in seemingly everything he did! There didn't seem to be a single thing he half-assed, to put it crudely, and what's more? He didn't get distracted. So...for a document to suggest that he wanted submission during sex?

You didn't know if it was shocking or expected.

"I didn't expect the Lycaon to need a document to garner sex." You said.

A rare chuckle left him. "I don't," He answered. "But everyone learns quicker and better when praise and pleasure is included, correct? This is merely a suggestion for you to learn faster. You are more than welcome to opt out of this."

"And if I accept?" Upon that question, the corners of Lycaon's mouth curled up slightly as he slowly leaned in until you could just barely feel his breath.

"Then you will learn fast. On my honor, I promise you."

You should've said no to this optional part of the program. All you needed was a job and Lycaon made it clear that there was a sexless version of the program where you'd simply learn the old-fashioned way! No pleasure or sex included but...as your eyes steadily trailed over the thiren, you couldn't deny he was a handsome individual. It wouldn't be unpleasant in the slightest to have benefits while completing your training under him. And as you steadily came to that conclusion, your thighs beginning to clench underneath the desk.

The thiren briefly sniffed at the air before he closed his eyes and exhaled. He was as still as a statue for a brief moment before he cleared his throat and offered you a pen from his breast pocket.

"I didn't give you an official answer—"

"Your scent gave me a suggestion." His raspy voice in combination with the sudden feral look in his eyes...you all too quickly shooed away any doubts you may have had before you began to sign away on the line at the bottom of the paper. And once you did, sliding the paper gently back to the wolf, he read over it briefly before he folded it neatly and placed it back into a drawer.

"We shall begin Monday," Lycaon said. "Please be prompt and on-time, I don't tolerate tardiness."

"Yeah, yeah." You scoffed.

And thus, your training as a potential housemaid for the Victorian Housekeeping Company has officially begun.

. . .

| Week One |

You had slept in, you had forgotten to set a timer over the weekend, too engrossed with the fact that you had basically agreed to have sex with Lycaon during your three-week training! The second you arrived home, it was a struggle to not touch yourself to the thought of what he looked like underneath his kept-together appearance.

You imagined he'd be soft to the touch judging by how much fur he had.

Would he be firm with his gaze, demanding you to be perfect even in the heat of the moment? Or would be he gentle and accommodating with you?

No matter how much your body cried out for you to indulge yourself a little, you saved it until you experienced it for yourself.

But right now, as your head was bowed down in apology to the wolfman for making him wait over forty minutes to your first day. You had a strong feeling you wouldn't be experiencing anything pleasurable today. "Once again dude, I am SO sorry!" You said.

"I forgot to set a timer, then I wanted to stop and get some breakfast along the way—"

"Stop," He snapped his jaws with a growl seeming to bubble just underneath the surface, the sight of his fangs making you shudder out of fear and...the slightest hint of excitement.

"First appearances are important, the most important out of any interaction and you sullied it on your first day of training? How do you expect to work for the company with such a flippant attitude?"

"I said sorry—"

"Sorry does not cut it Ms. Y/N. Excusing being a minute or two late is another matter but forty? Punishment is the only fitting way to solve such blatant disregard for other people's time." At those chilling words, Lycaon took a single step toward you before he took your chin into his hand, his eyes scanning over your nervous form with a critical gaze before he eventually sighed.

"I have a punishment in mind, please see to it that you are undressed in my office within' five minutes, and be on time."

Your eyes widened to the size of saucers before you huffed defiantly. "I'm not doing that!" You yelled.

His ear flicked, to him? You sounded like an impudent child, screaming and doing anything to get out of being scolded by their parent. "No?" He tilted his head.

"No!"

A wolfish smirk crept onto his face. "Every minute you stand here is an additional minute to your punishment Ms. Y/N. Do take care to remember that."

And so, there you stood.

| + | + | + |

You wouldn't be able to claim that he wasn't patient for the entire duration you had a fit about being punished on the first day of training. For about ten whole minutes, you stood there staring at the thiren until you eventually got bored and decided that "your punishment wouldn't be that bad" and simply went to his office!

You sat on a black couch and waited and when Lycaon came in?

The way he so quickly got his hands on you felt like you were being thrown around by an uncouth beast, a complete switch from the gentlemanly wolf you were talking to just a few minutes ago.

Slap! "Count." He ordered.

"O-One—Ah!"

He tutted his lips with a shake of his head as his hand slapped against your ass again, your maid uniform tugged up to your midsection as he pinned your hands down with his free hand. "Proper communication is most effective when you're speaking clearly Ms. Y/N...also, it's "one, sir"."

Another slap against your red behind rang out in the air, your body jerking forward a little at the movement. "At this rate, you'll never reach fifty." He sighed.

"W-Wait...!" You begged. "J-Just give me a break...so I can c-catch my breath—" When he slowly inched his hand upward again, your eyes widened as you quickly remembered your manners. "S-Sir! J-Just let me catch my breath...please."

If your eyes weren't blurry with tears, your mind getting fuzzier and fuzzier as you tried to ignore the ache in your cunt. You could've sworn you saw his tail move a little. After a minute, however, a sharp gasp left your swollen lips when you felt a finger graze against your sex, the featherlight touch making you shudder as you whipped your head around to look at the Lycaon.

Unconsciously, his tongue poked out to sweep against his upper set of canines as he focused on how your slick oozed out from your pussy so shamelessly. But at the same time? He figured he shouldn't have been shocked at the lewd sight, his keen hearing didn't miss the way a tiny moan would escape your lips at each slap. It was as if you wanted him to keep going and didn't want your punishment to end anytime soon.

Such behavior wasn't befitting of a potential future employee at the company. "Are you done recuperating? If so, then let us continue."

"W-Wait..." You begged. "J-Just a little time- Ah!"

"Now, now—" He pressed his hand down on your wrists a little more, lightly pinching at your thigh with the tip of his claws to calm your squirming. "—If you focus and count Ms. Y/N then your punishment will be over very soon, please remain focused."

After a final warning, he was quick to resume his smacks against your ass. The pain and pleasure eventually blurring into one another enough for your brain to somehow find a way to "center" itself. And, after around twenty minutes...Lycaon finally released you from your bent-over position over his lap and got up.

A lingering rebelliousness in the back of your head wanted to curse out the wolf as he stood, fixing his cuffs until they were neat again as if he wasn't rocking a blatant boner in his trousers! Yet as your mouth began to open as he walked further away...it quickly shut when he started walking back to you after grabbing something from a bookshelf behind his desk.

"What is that?" You asked.

"Aloe cream, it should help with the burn and any burning sensations."

Oh, you thought.

How...nice of him.

At your silence, his head tilted as he sat down next to you. "Are you alright?"

"Huh? Oh, y-yeah...I just wasn't expecting aftercare." You blushed.

"Your work would be even more affected if I didn't do this, I wouldn't want that." Suddenly, your heart skipped a beat.

. . .

| Week Two |

You didn't want to admit it to yourself at the time but you knew full well as to why your heart skipped a beat that day. At first, you tried to joke and claim that you were a masochist starting to bloom! Von Lycaon was handsome, yes but you knew how to distinguish between work and personal lives! Besides, you wanted money more than you did romance and if the latter interfered with your money...you weren't in any shape or form interested in it.

But, at the second week's coming, this week focused on posture if your memory served correctly. You couldn't lie or joke to yourself anymore.

You developed a crush on your future boss.

And it grew harder and harder to deny that fact in your...current position. Naked aside from your short black heels, you were standing right in front of Lycaon with his pants pulled down just enough to reveal his leaking dick. The tip seemed to turn increasingly into an angrier red as you continued to stay frozen in place. "Are you uncomfortable?" Lycaon's words snapped you out of your thoughts before you shook your head.

"N-No sir! It's just..." You went quiet for a second. "How...how is this going to teach me posture?"

"If you would come closer, I will show you." Like a siren's song, the beckoning of his clawed finger made you take small steps forward until you were finally in front of him. "I'll be letting you take control of me for some time," You could've sworn you caught a smirk on his lips at his words. "If you manage to fuck me until I cum with the correct posture then consider your training done, and welcome to your new job as a new maid to the Victorian Housekeeping company. I'll be generous and not even include the third week of training."

"But—" As his hand found its way to your hips, he gently tugged you forward until he slowly maneuvered you to straddle him on his lap, his cock throbbing against your stomach as beads of sweat started to appear at the back of your neck. He reached the middle of your stomach, easily! And that wasn't even considering his girth. "—If your posture fails, you will unfortunately stick to the original training program. And I must warn you, most do not manage to get through week three."

You jumped a little when you felt Lycaon's hand move down to your pussy. "What are you doing?" You voiced out shakily, your clit throbbing at Lycaon's touch as one finger alone was enough to cover your entire clit.

"Preparing you of course," He said with an "obviously" tone. "No matter how much I can smell your eagerness in the air—" A sharp moan escaped your lips when his finger started to slowly move, your cheeks burning at the fact you let out such a noise from such little stimulation. "—I doubt you will be able to fully take me without a little prep."

"Y-You..." You bit your tongue to keep a curse from flying out, your hands quickly moving to his shoulders as you tried to ground yourself and not lose yourself too quickly to the pleasure. A task that you were quickly failing at as you felt a knot slowly begin to form in the pit of your stomach, scorching hot tears brimming your eyes as a single line of drool fell from the corner of your lips.

And Lycaon was enjoying every second of it.

If he were to be honest with himself.

He didn't want you to succeed this time.

After having so much fun with you last week, he would say that he had gotten a bit greedy. As entertaining as it was to tame your bratty behavior and mold it into something more palpable as someone who would be interacting with clients often, it was torture all the same to him to not shut you up with his cock instead! It wasn't enough to rut into his hand at the end of every day, heated pants leaving his lips as his tongue lulled out of his mouth like some common dog begging for a slip of meat.

To say that it was unbecoming of him to set you up for failure was an understatement, rubbing your needy bud until you nearly squirted on him wouldn't make you last very long when you were actually seated on his cock. And as cruel as it was for him to say...how unbecoming and un-gentlemanly it was...

He was so fucking eager for you to fail.

"S-Sir..." His ears perked to your whining as your head fell his chest, his ears then moving to the sound of lewd squelching coming from your pussy. "Please...I-I'm so close..." You whined.

He allowed himself to play with you a minute longer until...he took his finger away.

He struggled to withhold a laugh at your state, your eyes seeming to be confused and stuck between wanting to glare angrily at him or beggingly like a wanton whore for him to continue. "Don't look like that," He said. "If I were to make you cum now, you would be too shaky to fuck me."

You were too shaky now.

But, you'd first kiss the seat of a toilet lid before admitting defeat.

"I-I won't fail this..." You said with determination, although breathlessly.

His tail wagged ever so slightly at your determination. "We shall see," He responded before he relaxed against the couch with a deep sigh. "Please begin at your leisure Ms. Y/N." When you took him into your hand, you felt a surge of confidence at Lycaon's not-so-quiet sharp inhale of breath. You prayed that he was just as needy as you because as you lined him up to your entrance and started to slid him into you, every inch that sunk further into you made your mouth gap wider and wider until you were certain you looked like a gasping fish.

He rubbed against your walls so nicely too, his girth stretching you out just enough to where it made you drool as it touched spots inside of you that you hadn't had a clue existed until today!

"F-Fuckkkkk..." You moaned out once you were fully seated on him.

You sucked your bottom lip into your mouth, desperately trying to ignore that burning feeling in your core as you began to move.

"Shit." Oh, how you just wanted to just shove a hand over his snout to keep him from letting out such sexy noises. His raspy voice and the way his thumbs rubbed encouraging circles into your hips...it wasn't good for you. You'd cum faster at this rate.

"Faster," Lycaon suddenly ordered, opening one of his red eyes to look at you.

"I...I can't- Oh!" Your words caught in your throat when he suddenly fucked up into you. A squeal nearly leaving your throat as you shut your eyes tightly to try and force back that urge to cum.

"Disobeying a superior now Ms. Y/N?" One of his hands slowly dragged up your back before it gently shoved you forward a little. Immediately, you fixed your posture although you nearly fell back over a couple of times. "You should watch yourself, my type of punishment for this act won't be very fun."

You doubted that.

But, as your hands tightened on his shoulders and you fucked yourself more quicker onto him. Tears started to flow down your cheeks more easily as you couldn't deny the burning feeling in your stomach anymore, how the way Lycaon's dick throbbed inside of you and pressed against your most sensitive spots...the urge to beg him for the chance to cum, just once was on the tip of your tongue but you tried to stay focused. "Oh my God..." He moaned deeply.

"Fuckkk..."

"A-Are you close?" You whined.

He scoffed. "Not even close," You felt your hopes nearly crash and shatter at those words. "But...your pussy feels so good on my cock," He praised, his tail thumping against the couch unabashedly as he stared up at you with hooded eyes and a feral gaze. "Perhaps, instead of a maid, you should be my personal breeding toy."

His smirk grew when he felt your pussy tighten around his cock.

"Yeah?" He asked. "You like that?"

You shook your head, shutting your eyes tightly as if not seeing him would help your situation anyway. However, as you felt a furred hand cup the side of your face, the feeling of breaths hitting your face. Your eyes slowly cracked open to the wolf thiren's face right in front of yours, panting and moaning with little to no shame before he smiled. "So pretty like this Y/N..." He said before his leaned down to begin pressing kisses to the side of your neck.

Briefly, the thought of whether or not this was a part of the training flashed in the front of your mind. But...as quick as it came, it was gone. You wanted to believe that...he wasn't following some manual when it came to his actions, that they were meant just for you and you alone. "You're so wet, making so much noise...I think I was right in my earlier suggestion hm? Maybe you will do better as my toy."

You shook your head. "Don't lie." He lightly nipped your shoulder, the sharp sudden pain being just what you needed to throw you over the edge before...Lycaon's ears moved to the sound of gushing and the feeling of wetness splashing against his pants and a bit of his thighs.

Without a second thought, his fingers shot down to gather some of your cum onto his fingers before he tasted you, a groan rumbling out as he almost shocked himself with how fast he got hard again. But before he could mention it, much less suggest it, when Lycaon returned his gaze to you. He saw you passed out against his chest, the very sight making him laugh ever so quietly before he sighed.

He supposed he was feeling a touch bit generous...he expected you to cum within seconds of fucking yourself onto his cock but it took you longer than that! To the point, he actually began to worry about cumming first or not! Although he had a mind not to be, he decided to be generous and forgiving seeing as you fucked him until the point of total exhaustion on your point.

He'd give you a passing A+ for effort.

[emotionalsupportgoblin420]

Yuri Briar x Fem!Preg!Reader

Summary: You are Yuri Briar's wife, and while he's away at work, you find out you're pregnant.

You found out a few days after he went back to work. Yuri had gotten a few days off recently, and the two of you savored every moment together. A day or two after he left for work, you started feeling nauseous, throwing up, and just feeling a little off altogether. You were worried you had gotten sick. You didn't say anything to your husband. He'd leave work immediately out of worry for you, which was not ideal for either of you. As you worry wondering what could be wrong, a thought came to you. "What if I'm pregnant?" Immediately, you grabbed three different pregnancy tests from the local general store and tore them out of the box as soon as you got home. It was torture waiting for the results. You weren't sure how to feel. Anxious? Excited? Nervous? No clue. All you could do was wait. After a few minutes, you checked the first test. Positive. You felt like you were about to cry. You weren't sure why. You managed to calm yourself down enough to check the second one. Positive. The same feeling welled up inside you stronger this time. You had to sit down for a minute. You checked the third. Positive. There was no doubt. You were pregnant. Now you knew how you felt. Pure happiness and excitement. A small part of you was also frustrated. Of course you had to find out just as Yuri had left for work. His job could keep him away from home for only a day or two to a whole week. You just had to wait. And so you did. Two days pass since finding out you're pregnant when you heared the door unlock and the doorknob turn. Your heart skipped a beat in excitement. "Babe! I'm home!" Yuri called. You came running for hugs and kisses. "Hi! You missed me that much, huh?" He laughed. "Yes I did!" You replied. You let him take off his coat and shoes before you grabbed his hand and pulled him over to the couch. "Huh? What's going on?" He asked in confusion. "Just sit here! I have a surprise for you!" You said. You ran off to grab the surprise as Yuri sat there wondering what you were getting. You came back, sat next to him, and handed him a little gold foil box with a red bow. "Aw, babe. You didn't have to get me anything." Yuri said with smile. "I know <3. Now open it!" You said excitedly. He laughed a bit. Your excitement was so cute. He opened the box to find one of the positivity tests inside. For a minute, he wasn't sure what he was looking at, but when he realized what it was, his eyes widened, and he turned to look at you. "No way! You're not!" He said in utter disbelief. "I'm pregnant!" You confirmed a huge grin on your face. He immediately burst into happy tears and started hugging and kissing you. He was lost for words. He was so happy. "I can't believe it! I'm going to be a dad!" He said once he found his words. "And a great one at that!" You said with a playful kiss. He laughed and put his forehead to yours. "I love you so much." He said, tears still rolling down his cheeks. "I love you too." You replied.

(Author's note: Sorry if this was hella cheesy or cringe. I mainly write hcs, but I wanted to try something new. Hope y'all enjoy 💖)

[ldrfanatic]

r9 for mattheo riddle pls🙏

shakin', pacin', I just need you

mattheo riddle x fem!hufflepuff!reader

r9 - "for you I would fall from grace, just to touch your face"

gonna be at the dentist office w my bf for the next three to four hours so I'm gonna try and clear out my requests <3

lowkey I was praying someone would request this for mattheo

part two anyone?

y'all I could not find where I wrote down my mattheo taglist so if you wanna be added please please PLEASE comment on this post so I can start a new one thanksss

slytherin boys works

"y/n are you even listening to me?"

the voice of hannah abbot, a fellow hufflepuff, tore your eyes from your only slytherin friend albeit reluctantly. when you finally looked towards your friend, her mouth was turned up into a disapproving frown.

"no. I know you think he's your friend, but he's not."

she wasn't entirely wrong. afterall, you couldn't honestly say that you'd exchanged more than a few words with the boy, though it wasn't for lack of opportunity. he'd approached you on more than one occasion but neither of you ever seemed to actually speak.

really, it was because mattheo felt stumped by you. he'd spent a lot of time with different girls while he'd been at hogwarts. but when he tried to approach you, he fumbled. every. single. time. that was how he first knew you were special.

the kind of girl that made him want to face his father's wrath even though he knew that liking you would be more than enough for a crucio.

between your friends, his family, and his inability to articulate his thoughts around you, mattheo never really got the chance to talk to you.

that is, until now.

somehow, by the grace of the universe, snape had paired you with him for the d.a.d.a. project studying boggarts. you touched on them briefly in your third year but due to lupin's condition, didn't get the chance to finish them. for once, mattheo actually wanted to do schoolwork and do well on this project so you didn't resent him for a bad grade.

as class was dismissed, a hand softly grabbed your wrist.

"wait."

it was mattheo. he was actually speaking words to you rather than just sitting there and staring. it was almost unsettling if anything.

"d'you maybe wanna meet in the library after classes and..."

you smiled sweetly and nodded.

"are you sure you can handle it riddle? don't you have to be talking to someone to study with them?"

there was a teasing tone in your voice which caused mattheo's face to bloom and pink to tinge over the tips of his ears. suddenly, like a switch had flipped, a cocky smile took over his face.

"i can't help it if you take my breath away. maybe you just bring out the best in me like that."

caught off by his banter and yet undeterred, you continued.

"well we all know that you're at your best when you shut up."

you spoke the words with a teasing smile. his jaw fell promptly open at your words, completely surprised that a hufflepuff would say something like that. while mattheo attempted to collect himself, you shoved your dark arts textbook into your satchel and swung it up onto your shoulder.

"the library. tonight. 5pm sharp. don't be late riddle."

five o'clock could not come fast enough. potions with professor scalby was simply exhausting. she was a kind enough women which was a nice change from professor snape after she'd taken over the class following his promotion to d.a.d.a., but the woman had a love for potions that you could safely say no one else in the class really shared. unless you counted hermione granger, a sweet enough gryffindor also in your year.

by the time that scalby finished gushing about the amortentia your class would attempt to brew next week, you were sure you'd aged an entire year in this class alone.

finally, after what seemed like an eternity, class was dismissed. you quickly packed your books away and scurried off to the library, arriving a decent few minutes before mattheo sauntered in with an otherworldly confused look on his face.

"sorry i'm a little late. i got lost."

he spoke to you in a deep yet gentle rumble that had your heart beating a little faster in your chest. it was hard not to notice the way that he gawked at the old century library which was probably your favorite collection of books in the whole world.

"have you never been here before?"

mattheo's dark curls bounced atop his head as he shook it slowly. he looked down at his large hands with what appeared to be shame.

"i've never really taken an interest in school before."

wanting to make him feel better you gently bumped your shoulder into his as the two of you walked back towards the study tables.

"you're taking an interest now."

"in you."

his words made the both of you settle into a thick silence. though it was hard not to notice his lingered stares across the great hall or after a slytherin-hufflepuff match, it was the first time that he'd spoken words aloud that alluded to his feelings for you, and it seemed to catch the both of you off guard.

after a moment's pause, mattheo spoke again.

"i-uh, i don't know why i said that i'm sorry."

you reached your hand out from across the table where the two of you had settled down and grasped his hand in yours. you flashed him a reassuring smile.

"don't be."

abruptly, mattheo let out a strangled noise of frustration and tugged at his hair with his fingers.

"i can't do this anymore."

your heart thumped so quickly against your ribcage, you feared it might stop beating altogether.

"can't do what anymore?"

"this, y/n. i can't keep posing that i want to be your friend and do friendly things together like study at the library."

now your heart was breaking. hannah was right. mattheo riddle was not your friend and-- oh. mattheo riddle was not done speaking.

"i can't keep pretending when i want to be so much more than friends with you. when i want to do very not friendly things with you. to you. when i feel like throwing these books on the floor and yanking you across this table and pressing every part of your body against every part of mine."

instead of doing that, he stood from his seat and knelt in front of you. it felt weird to have the son of the dark lord on his knees in front of you all but begging you to be his girlfriend.

"i know i'm not the chosen one or anything and i'm never gonna be the good guy. but damnit if i have to stay away from you any longer i don't think i could stand it."

his confession stunned you into silence. how the hell could yoou possibly respond to that?

"say something, please."

a hopeful look had taken over his features. his brown eyes sparkled under the dim library lights.

"i don't care that you're not the protagonist mattheo. i would fall from grace for you."

---

<taglist>

@blobsblobician @helendeath

07.07.2024

[theobsessedcookiefan]

Oh oh I have a good one what if y/n cookies was lover of the five beast and they see them get corrupted as how is they reaction seeing them crying broken heart saying please please please PLEASE give him/her back give me back my beloved cookie of volition/ knowledge/change/ happiness/ solidarity I want them back to me I’m will do anything just please turn back to normal

NOOO.. NOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO... Alr, I'll do it bc I like to torture myself and y'all need to suffer with me 😠😠😠

I'm going to make different names for the pre-corrupted beasts!! Bc I seriously doubt they were named that way before 😓😓

I read somewhere that Burning Spice was called Warming Spice before?? I'm not sure tho- but I'll use that name!! I'll try to be original in the names but if it gets too close to other names that other people give them then I'm so sorry bc I probably saw it and don't remember 😓😓😓

Ohboyitendeduplongerthanexpected

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Life is a bitch sometimes, it can give you everything you ever desired and take it back in an instant, were you too egotistical? Did you broke the universe balance by being too happy? Maybe it wasn't fair, you lived happily with the best Cookies you've ever met, compassionate, heroic and righteous, the whole package if you could say so, and they loved you oh so much, so much that they would sacrifice everything for your well-being and happiness, to protect your smile; the prettiest smile they've ever seen.

You remember when it started, the first warning came that damned week, you, Blueberry Milk and Saccharine Sugar were helping the locals to make a new orphanage, having a gift exchange game for the kids, at one moment the adults had to bring the food from the first location and left the kids with both of you, they were quite the handful if you were being honest but what could you expect from little cookies? You decided that maybe a little game would calm them down, but you were so busy, not noticing that your partners were getting stressed, when you came back with everything to play you saw half the kids laying down in the ground, obviously you panicked, trying to see if they were breathing or not but thank the divines they were only asleep. When you found the other you saw quite the scene, Saccharine Sugar was playing a melody with her harp and Blueberry Milk was helping the kids to lay down more comfortable in the floor, once he saw you she shook her a bit, she blinked and the music stopped, making the kids wake up, it wasn't that bad but you still told them not to do that again. If only you could've been there when they got the idea..

The second warning came at a perfect afternoon in White Flour's temple, it had been a busy day for her, many cookies came searching for her to make their wishes reality, she seemed extremely tired after all that work so you offered your lap for her to rest her head on, she ended up telling you about how greed changed some of them, how many of them wanted money and gems, it was disappointing really. If only you reassured her that that money could be used for helping people..

The third sign was the fights between Sea Salt and Warming Spice, those two had always been close and used to spar to improve their fighting skills so you were used to it, but that day it ended up with both of them badly injured, you remember running to stop the reddish cookie from using the sharp end of the blade, your worried expression and tone of voice seemed to snap them both of some kind of trance and so you told them to go directly to the healer of the village. If only you were there with them when they fought again..

Then it all faded to chaos, maybe they realized they held all that power or grew bored of the routine? Either way you remember standing in front of a destroyed village, cookie's screams sounding everywhere, it was such a horrible vision, you couldn't even start to comprehend what happened, that was until you heard that melodic voice, it was Saccharine Sugar! Was she hurt too? The virtues were the heroes of the village, they obviously fought against whatever destroyed right? Right..?. Without other thought in mind you ran to where her voice could be heard and what you saw was horrifying, her wings were creating big gusts of wind that were destroying the houses around and she was laughing at it.. She was actually enjoying it. It couldn't be! She was the most gentle of the five, she couldn't find pleasure in hurting others could she? No, not your Saccharine Sugar, not her. You ran towards her extending your hand to try and reach her, she didn't expect you to appear so the wind stopped and you were able to hug her, thing that surprised her.

━━━━━━ ◦ ❖ ◦ ━━━━━━

"Please.. Please stop, we can find a solution for this, just stop, we can rebuild the village, I know they'll forgive you, just stop please."

It was a desperate plea more than anything else, but she didn't respond, her face expressionless and soon everything faded to black for you.

When you woke up you didn't recognize the place you were in, that was until you looked up, it was night time already? You could've sworn it was afternoon before.. Before.. Oh no, without thinking it twice you got up as quickly as you could, starting to run, trying to see if you could identify the place you were in, you ran for a while until you found one of the villagers hiding behind a barn, a barn? Oh! You were on that area, you got closer to the Cookie hiding and they told you how the virtues started to destroy everything they saw, how many of the villagers didn't survive the chaos and how the remaining were trying to escape but every entrance to the village was guarded by one of them, that was good, at least you knew where your partners were now, you thanked the villager, telling them to hide inside the barn instead and that you would stop the virtues. Oh how wrong you were.

You found them? Yes of course you did, they were guarding the entrances like that villager said, but they were different, not only their appearance but their personality, you remember trying to get to each one of them, pleading for them to stop this madness;

"Please, don't you see you're hurting others? You're supposed to protect them! We can still fix this!"

"If you continue with this you'll only get far away from yourself, please come back, I'll talk to everyone and try to make them understand what happened!"

"I know you care about them, you're not as apathetic as you act, I promise we can solve this together! Just please.."

"Come on.. This is just cruel and you know it! Your plays are supposed to bring others joy, not pain!"

It didn't work, at the end they just looked at you as if they didn't had any idea what you were talking about, as if this was what they were meant to do. Maybe they couldn't be saved? Maybe they were supposed to end like this? Probably, maybe this was what the witches wanted all along..

⋅•⋅⊰∙∘☽༓☾∘∙⊱⋅•⋅⋅•⋅⊰∙∘☽༓☾∘∙⊱⋅•⋅⋅•⋅⊰∙∘☽༓☾∘∙⊱⋅•⋅

⋅•⋅⊰∙∘☽༓☾∘∙⊱⋅•⋅⋅•⋅⊰∙∘☽༓☾∘∙⊱⋅•⋅⋅•⋅⊰∙∘☽༓☾∘∙⊱⋅•⋅

[eisdendrobium]

𝐦𝐞𝐦𝐨𝐫𝐢𝐞𝐬

pairings : ayato x reader summary : you're in a loveless marriage with ayato, you thought you could make it work at first but it seems impossible, so you left.

note : heavy angst, not proofread, sad ending (sorry y'all), nothing else - enjoy ^^

this is a part 2 of "glimpse of us"

yeah he's gorgeous but that's all he is. all you've ever liked in him. never once did he ever bring you joy

"let's get a divorce ayato." ayato snaps out of his trace and looks up at your eyes. taken aback.

"what makes you get to this point, [name]?" he place his tea cup down and asked you calmly.

you let out a sigh and straighten your posture, "i know you still love her ayato. I know the 'secret' letters you sent her and the letters you received from her. and i know, i know that i came and ruined your relationship with her. So, why stay in this loveless marriage right? torturing ourselves every single day"

a small smile forms on ayato's lips, yet his expression is unreadable.

"... yeah, i'm sorry [name], but,, i'm afraid we can't. what will our family thinks? what will the people say when they see us divorced?"

a hand went up to ruffle your hair. frustrated.

"i know. i know it's for our family, but i'm not going to waste my life just for politics ayato, and so should you.."

"i..."

"i'm tired of this, please understand me. i've tried to make this whole thing works alright? i've tried to make us work so many time yet you never seemed to put any effort in this"

———

finally back to his beloved, ayato felt like he's the happiest man alive. All the catching up, the i love you's, the casual and fancy date ayato does with her to fill up his one year yearning.

"look ayato! i've bought you dango!" she smiles while showing a pack of tricoloured dango

ayato couldn't help but smile, taking the dango and eating one of it.

"ayato? i've made you dango! thought you could use a break,, there's also milk tea! i know how much you like dango milk"

"are you alright love? is it bad?" ayato didn't even realize his smile falter as he looks to the ground. why would he think about you? maybe it was a memory to appreciate you. that's what he say to himself.

but somehow it keeps on happening.

"how's the food love?" "what do you think, ayato?"

"oh how fun! let's go make a sand castle love!" she laughed while dragging ayato by the hand. "woah... the view is breathtaking during sunset, thank you for bringing me here, ayato" you thanked, eyes focused on the orange ball of fire.

"oh love... this is the third milk tea you've had this week, you know it's not good to consume too much.." she said, gently taking the bottle from his grasp "are you drinking milk tea again? you know it's not good to consume too much of it.." you said, concerned.

too much. it's too much for him to handle.

why are you there? why are you haunting him? the thought of you is eating him alive. what is it he asked, guilt? regret? you're happy now. probably with someone new, someone who actually loves you. So should he. right? so why is it so hard to let you go?

his night were constantly filled by your smile, your laugh, you.

"My Lord, there's a package for you" thoma enters the estate one day, carrying a rather small box.

taking it from thoma and giving him a thanks, ayato opens the box and sees the small gifts he once gave you in act of formality towards you and your family.

slowly picking one of them up, he spot a letter under it, opening it he reads what was written:

to Lord Kamisato,

hey... i was sorting things out and find these gifts you gave me, thought i should return it to you.

signed, [name]

closing the letter he scavenge into the box as he recalled the day he gave you each of those trinkets.

"ooh who gave you those gift love?" she asked, entering the room

"uhm.. i'm not sure darling" standing up from the chair he excuse himself out.

ayato needed space, he needs to think - i don't even know what is there to think really, there's only one obvious answer.

he crimple the letter and rush towards your house.

halfway there rain started pouring and thunder starts dancing around the sky, seems like the universe is not letting him meets you yet he push through. he have had enough of this whole thing.

\

a knock was heard through your door, 'who could it be?' you thought. standing up from the sofa you make your way towards the door and opens it only to find someone you've least expected.

ayato, drench in rain, breathing heavily - looking at you intently, his violet eyes dancing with yours.

"ayato? what are you doing here?" and without warning he hugs you.

he hugs you? this is the first.

neither of you break away from the hug for a while, you're too shocked to push him away, and him getting too comfortable embracing you.

"i'm sorry [name], i'm sorry.." he mumbles as he pulls you closer.

finally regaining your composure you pull away from him,

"why don't you come in and change first hm? then we could talk" you move and gesture him to come which he gladly did.

after changing he joins you in the tatami room. it was quiet, yet ayato finds it comforting. the only sound that could be heard was the rain outside and the fireplace, the perfect ambience to live in for ayato.

"...so....wanna explain why you came?" you starts, eyes never leaving the fire.

"yeah, uhm.. [name], you've been on my mind lately.. and i couldn't help but feel these negative emotion around me,,, i just- .. i thought maybe talking about it with you would help" he explains

"was it because of the package i sent you?"

"no- well.. that package was what pushed me to came here... [name] i know i wasn't the husband material then and i know you're happy now, but i can't.. stop thinking about you, about us. and i know it's wrong, i know it's cruel but i just can't help it" he turns his whole body towards you. totally breaking his character.

finally turning your head to look at him you answer, "yeah, it is cruel ayato. i've tried everything to make us work but you threw all of it away without even glancing at it, and now you're asking me to what? take you back? what about your lover? you loves her and so does she"

"i know! i know i messed up badly and truth is i'm still a mess right now [name]" he cover his face with desperation and ruffle his hair.

silent took over the atmosphere as you think about it.

you gave him your everything, your love, time, effort, everything. yet he gave you nothing in return. what's in it for you if you gave him another chance?

"..i'm sorry ayato." ayato looks up towards you and sees that you've already averts your gaze towards the fireplace.

quickly standing up ayato make his way towards you, kneeling in front of you, taking your hands in his "no.. please [name]" he whispers

"i loved you ayato, but now,, i just wish you'd stay in my memories. you're happy with her and that's it. don't make this any harder for me.." you look down towards your interwind hand and slowly pulling them away from his grasp.

"please.." he whispers once more.

shaking your head and raising your head to look at him with a sad smile "i can't" you whispered in return.

ayato let his head fall along with the tears, staining your clothes.

closing your front door you finally cut the relationship between the two of you. slowly you feel your eyes stinging as the tears finally starts flowing.

why did he came? why did he have to ruin all of your effort to move on and let him go?

you're supposed to put him in the past, and you did. So why are you crying now?

"i'm sorry ayato.. but i have to do it for me.." you say quietly towards ayato's retreating figure from the window.

\

a few months after you finally found someone, a person you loved and who loves you just as much.

ayato finds that fact lovely yet crushing at the same time. he said that he’s happy for you yet he knows that he’s lying to himself, missions after missions he did just to forget you. busying himself so he wouldn’t drown over the fact that he’d been replaced.

he saw you once in one of the stores buying sweets with a guy, you looked happy— in love, maybe that’s more accurate. ayato felt like the world stop spinning for a moment as he spied over you and your beloved.

that moment was his before, yet he didn’t cherished it like he should.

you were his but now anymore. that’s the fact that he’s trying to accept.

he’ll be marrying his beloved next month, the kamisato family finally agreed to do it and he’s happy about it. it’s everything he had dreamt of!

so why is there a longing for you? a desire to just leave everything behind and take you with him, away from everybody else?

oh how history is repeating itself. what a cruel thing.

a/n : reblogs are greatly appreciated! and please feel free to comment what you think about this fic ^^

taglist : @ayatoslovelywife @kawaiiskeletoneggsnerd @alexiris @yummyberry @starlightaura @tiredasiandaughter @almond-t0fu @clevercatprotector14 @ilovemilfs1111 @rose-ly @genshinloversposts

[tiiraameesu]

The One That Got Away Pt.4

Gojo Satoru x F!Reader

Synopsisજ⁀➴ Gojo is a charismatic college student, known for his carefree approach to relationships, never letting things get too serious. You are his longtime best friend and have quietly harbored feelings for him but never acted on them, knowing Gojo’s aversion to commitment. But when Gojo shares an unexpected connection with another girl, the dynamics between them start to shift. As the lines blur between friendship and something more, you are left grappling with your emotions—unsure of whether you'll be able to stay by Gojo’s side, or if it’s time to move on.

tagsજ⁀➴ college au, hockey player!gojo, band member!reader, angst, slow burn, eventual friends to lovers (maybe), gojo is dumb af, you might dislike gojo in this im sorry, very very mild geto x reader

NOTESજ⁀➴ hope y'all enjoy the new chapter! appreciate all the comments and messages I've gotten so far for my last few chapters! makes me soooo excited to post even more and more! so sorry for the late upload though, school has been CRAZY and i was lowkey spiraling because of this new guy i was talking to but yeah ENJOYYY ⸜(｡˃ ᵕ ˂ )⸝♡

wcજ⁀➴ 7.5k

taglineજ⁀➴ @kaemaybae @laviefantasie @higuchislut @domilovestoru @aishies-stuff @genxnarumi @username23345 PART ONE | PART TWO | PART THREE

Two weeks had passed, and Gojo Satoru was a ghost in your life. Not literally, of course—his presence was hard to miss, especially since you still caught glimpses of him with Mina—but the days when he’d linger outside your band practice or wait for you by the bleachers during his hockey drills were long gone.

Instead, his world seemed to orbit around Mina now. He was always meeting her, whether before or after his own practice. The few times you had decided to sit in the bleachers and watch him, hoping he’d wave you over for a laugh or even just a chat, he’d merely sent a casual wave in your direction before rushing to Mina.

By the third time, you decided he wouldn’t miss your absence. Mina was there to take your place.

Now, here you were, stuck in the middle of band practice. The studio walls felt too tight today, and even though the air was filled with the rhythmic clash of drums, the heavy hum of the bass, and the soaring melody of your guitar, the energy in your chest was mismatched.

Your phone sat on the edge of the amp, its screen glaring at you with an all-too-familiar sight: an unread message to Gojo. Delivered. Not even read.

It stung more than you cared to admit, but you knew better than to let it show. You didn’t own him. He didn’t owe you anything.

You shook the thought from your head as the band kicked into another song. This time, you focused.

The song flowed easily under your fingers, each note falling into place with effortless precision. Your hands moved like they had a mind of their own, strumming, pressing, and pulling out the right chords without a second thought.

You hit every note perfectly, the rhythm steady, the melody crisp—technically flawless. But something was off. The music, despite its perfection, felt wrong.

Instead of the light, airy feel the song was meant to have, each strum was laced with tension, harsh and biting, like a storm trapped in a song meant for sunshine. The melody should have danced, should have lifted the mood, but instead, it thundered through the room, loud and jagged. Every note you played was sharp, angry, as though you were trying to fight something—only it wasn’t the song you were supposed to be playing anymore.

The guitar hummed with your frustration, but it wasn’t the kind of emotion the song was supposed to evoke. It was heavy. It was out of place. It was angry. And as you continued, the gap between the song and your soul seemed to widen.

“You’re playing too hard,” Choso called over the final note, his drumsticks resting on the snare. His voice cut through the distorted noise of your thoughts, pulling you back to reality, but only slightly.

You lowered your guitar, chest rising and falling with the weight of the tension still clinging to you. His words didn’t quite register at first—until you looked up, meeting his steady gaze. His brow furrowed, and for the briefest second, you could have sworn he saw right through you, saw past the perfect notes and into the tangled mess inside.

“I hit all the notes, didn’t I?” The words slipped out before you could stop them, sharper than you intended. You didn’t want to look weak, but you couldn’t help it. The question hung in the air, a challenge disguised as doubt. Your fingers still tingled from the aggressive strumming, the burn of the misplaced energy lingering.

“You did,” Yu chimed in from the keyboard. “But it’s not… you. It’s like…” He hesitated, searching for the right words.

“Like you’re following a script,” Choso finished, his dark eyes steady on you. “Instead of playing from the heart.”

Their words hit harder than you expected, stirring a frustration you weren’t ready to face. Before you could snap back, your hand slipped during the next strum. The string bit into your finger, sharp and unforgiving.

“Ah, shit,” you muttered, pulling back as blood welled up on your finger.

Iori, who had been watching from her spot near the mic, immediately stepped away, her voice cutting through the tension. “Break time,” she called, her tone more serious than usual. The mic stand clinked softly as she set it down and moved toward you.

You blinked, still reeling from the sting in your finger. The blood dripped slowly, mixing with the burn of your frustration. Iori was already moving toward the back of the room, opening a cabinet for the first aid kit.

“You okay?” she asked, her voice softer now, but still carrying that steady assurance.

You didn’t answer right away, just watched as she grabbed the kit and walked back over. The room felt strangely quiet without the hum of the music, the weight of their words still hanging in the air. Your hand felt heavy, the cut sharp but not unbearable.

Iori knelt in front of you, gently taking your hand in hers. “Let me see.” Her fingers brushed lightly against your skin as she cleaned the wound. It wasn’t painful, but the act was grounding, calming, almost too much after the storm inside you. You had to look away, feeling the sharp edges of your emotions settle, just for a second.

“You really gotta stop playing so hard,” Iori murmured, her gaze flickering up to meet yours. There was a faint smirk on her face, but there was something else too—understanding, maybe. She didn’t press the issue, though. Instead, she simply wrapped the cut with care, her voice softening. “You’re not gonna get anything out of this if you keep forcing it.”

Her words stuck with you, hanging in the air even as she finished tending to your finger. The sharpness of the cut seemed to mirror the tension inside you, and for a moment, you felt a flicker of understanding in the quiet aftermath. You weren’t just playing with your fingers; you were playing with your heart, and it had all gotten twisted up somewhere along the way.

Iori finished wrapping your finger, her hands gentle as she tended to the cut, but you didn’t feel the same sense of calm you usually did when she was around. Everything felt off, jagged, like even the simplest act was just another reminder of how out of sync you were with yourself. She stepped back, giving you some space, but the words she’d said lingered in the air.

The moment stretched, but you barely noticed it, too lost in your own head. Then, from the corner of your eye, you saw Naoya walking over with a drink in hand. He didn’t say anything at first, just tossed you the can like it was a casual gesture, but you could feel his eyes on you—assessing, calculating.

You caught it without looking, but your fingers felt sluggish, the weight of the can nothing compared to the weight you were carrying. You cracked it open slowly, the fizz rising and popping in the quiet. But it didn’t help.

Naoya sat down next to you, his posture as rigid and sharp as always, but his gaze never left you. There was an uncomfortable intensity in the way he studied you, the usual mockery and sharp edges of his smirk replaced by something a little less abrasive.

He leaned back, tilting his head slightly, eyes narrowing as if searching for something deeper than the surface.

“What’s bothering you now?” he asked, the words more direct than you expected, his voice stripped of any sarcasm or playfulness. “Last time you were like this was two weeks ago, remember? And I don’t think I need to tell you that you don’t exactly have a good track record when you start shutting down.”

His words hit like a cold splash of water, a reminder of the pattern you were stuck in. You had been here before, trapped inside your head, not sure how to get out. It didn’t matter that this time it felt different—like the frustration wasn’t just with the music anymore, but with everything around you, everything inside you. Naoya knew better than to let you avoid the question.

You didn’t answer right away, running your thumb along the lip of the can absentmindedly. The bubbles inside hissed in your ears, but the sound only reminded you of the noise in your own head.

Then, as the silence stretched, Nanami spoke up from his spot across the room, his usual calm voice cutting through the stillness.

“You know, ignoring it won’t help,” he said, his tone more matter-of-fact than anything else. “Whatever this is, bottling it up just makes it worse. You’re not exactly subtle when something’s eating at you.”

You could feel his eyes on you, but you didn’t look up, too tangled in the mess of your thoughts. Your mind raced, too much noise in your head to form a solid answer.

“I… I don’t really know,” you said finally, the words slipping out more honestly than you intended. You shook your head, frustration leaking through your voice.

You sat there in silence, the words hanging in the air. The frustration still churned inside you, a gnawing feeling that didn’t seem to go away no matter how many times you tried to shake it off. It wasn’t just the music. It wasn’t just the cut on your finger. It was everything that had been building up inside you, everything that you hadn’t been able to say or figure out.

Gojo. That name echoed in your mind, but even thinking it made your chest tighten, a knot forming deep in your stomach. It was him—his presence, his expectations, the weight of his shadow that seemed to be clouding everything. You couldn’t put it into words, not here, not now. Not in front of them. But damn, you just wished you could hear his voice. Maybe then, things would feel a little clearer. Maybe just hearing him tell you it was going to be okay would make the world feel less heavy.

The silence stretched on, thick and heavy, until you felt a gentle touch on your shoulder. You looked up, surprised to find Iori watching you, her eyes softer than usual, like she could sense the wall you were putting up.

Without a word, she clasped her hands together and stood up, her movements calm and purposeful. “You know what? Let’s call it a night. Why don’t we order some food and just chill? No pressure, no rehearsing. Just take it easy this time around.”

Her words were simple, but the way she said them felt like a release, like an invitation to let go of the tension that had been creeping up in the room.

You felt the weight of your own silence, the words swirling in your chest that you couldn’t quite voice. Maybe you were being unfair, maybe you were letting everything pile up inside you when they didn’t deserve it. The guilt hit you like a wave, and before you could stop it, you found yourself speaking.

“I’m sorry… I don’t know what’s been going on with me lately. I’ve been... off, I guess.” The words came out clumsy, but they felt necessary. Like if you could just say them, it might ease the tension that had been building inside you for so long.

The room felt quieter as you looked around, but instead of a wave of understanding or sympathy, Choso’s voice cut through, calm and unfazed.

“Don’t sweat it,” he said with his usual nonchalance, leaning back in his seat. His eyes flickered toward you, but there wasn’t any judgment in them, just an effortless coolness. “Everyone has their moments. No big deal.”

He shrugged, looking more like he couldn’t care less, but the ease in his tone made the guilt inside you settle just a little.

“You’re still here, right? That’s what matters.” His words were blunt, but they had a way of hitting exactly where they needed to. No overthinking, no grand speeches. Just... simple reassurance.

You let out a small breath, realizing that maybe it wasn’t so terrible to be like this every once in a while. You weren’t perfect, and neither were they. And that, for some reason, made it all feel a little more manageable.

“Thanks,” you said, the words lighter now, like a burden had shifted off your shoulders.

Iori gave a small, approving nod as you finally relaxed, her smile soft but reassuring. “So, what are we having?”

────────────────────────────────────────────────────

After the food had been devoured, the room was filled with the casual noise of packing up and cleaning up the last bits of the mess. The rest of the crew had already begun to pack up, their laughter and chatter a distant hum as they gathered their things and said their goodbyes. The studio, once filled with the warmth of conversation and the sound of instruments, now felt quieter. The clock on the wall showed that it was nearing midnight, and everyone was ready to call it a night.

You waved them off, telling them you’d close up the studio. The others didn’t seem to mind, already heading out the door with tired smiles and promises to meet at the next session. As the last of them disappeared down the hallway, you stood there in the silence, the door clicking shut behind them.

The studio was empty now, save for the soft hum of the lights above. You set your bag down on the couch, the familiar weight of it suddenly feeling too much. But instead of heading home like you probably should have, you took a deep breath and made your way over to your instrument.

The band had been more than patient with you, more than understanding as you struggled through each practice, trying and failing to get things right. The pressure had been mounting—the gig was right around the corner, and you still hadn’t found your rhythm. But every time you messed up, they were there with encouraging words, with reassurances that you’d get it, that they knew you could.

A wave of gratitude washed over you as you stood there in the quiet studio, staring at your instrument. They could’ve been frustrated with you. They had every right to be. But instead, they were kind, patient, and supportive, letting you take your time. You couldn’t help but feel guilty for not being better, for not meeting their expectations, for not being as good as they believed you were capable of being.

You let the thoughts settle in your mind, but then, as quickly as they came, you shook them away. There was no point in dwelling on what you couldn’t change right now. What mattered was what came next.

You couldn’t take their patience for granted. You couldn’t let them down again. The gig was coming, and you had to be better.

With a steadying breath, you picked up your instrument. The room seemed to fade around you as you closed your eyes, tuning out everything except the steady pulse of your heartbeat and the strings beneath your fingers.

You began to play, your fingers moving over the strings with a gentler touch than before. The aggression was gone, replaced by a quieter intensity. It felt better, more in tune with the mood you wanted to create, but something was still missing. There was a void, a note that you couldn’t reach, a spark that wouldn’t ignite no matter how many times you strummed. The frustration lingered, swirling inside you, gnawing at your concentration.

And just as the frustration began to settle into something heavier, your phone vibrated sharply against the floor where you had tossed it earlier. Startled, you paused mid-strum and glanced over. The name on the screen caught you off guard.

Gojo.

You stared at the caller ID for a moment, your heart doing an unexpected flutter in your chest. What was he calling for? Was it... was it really him? You hesitated, fingers still lingering on the strings, unsure of whether to pick up or let it go to voicemail.

It had been so long since you’d heard his voice, but you didn’t know if you were ready to face it yet. You knew you couldn’t keep running from this, but... this? Right now?

The phone vibrated again in your hand, urging you to decide.

You took a deep breath and answered, your voice shaky as you pressed the phone to your ear. “Hello?”

“Hey,” Gojo’s voice came through, smoother than usual, but there was something about it that felt more serious this time. “I’m downstairs. I’ve been waiting for you.”

You froze, eyes darting to the door like you could somehow see him on the other side. Downstairs? You weren’t sure you’d heard him right.

“Wait... what?” you said, your voice wavering slightly. “You’re downstairs?”

“Yeah,” Gojo responded, his tone firmer now, like he wasn’t messing around. “Come down. I’ll be waiting.”

Your mind raced, trying to make sense of it. You hadn’t expected this, hadn’t expected him to show up out of the blue like this. You looked at your phone, still processing the strange urgency in his voice.

“Uh, alright,” you said, suddenly feeling a rush of nerves. “I’ll be there in a second.”

You hung up quickly, set your guitar down, and grabbed your things, moving with more haste than you had anticipated. The tension in the pit of your stomach only grew as you locked up the practice room and made your way down the hall. Something in his tone had shifted, and it made the usual teasing Gojo feel distant—more... serious.

You rushed down the stairs, the echo of your footsteps against the walls reminding you how quickly everything had shifted. When you finally rounded the corner, you saw him standing by the door, his posture straighter than usual. The smirk was gone, replaced by a focused intensity in his eyes that you rarely saw.

He didn’t greet you with his usual grin or playful jab. Instead, he just looked at you, his gaze unwavering. “Took you long enough,” he said, his voice almost too calm. “Let’s go.”

You swallowed, suddenly feeling like you were in way over your head. But there was no turning back now.

The walk was quiet, but the silence felt different this time. Gojo’s usual cocky confidence was replaced with an almost tangible tension in his posture. He walked with purpose, his strides long and quick, but there was a tightness in the way he carried himself that you hadn’t seen before. It wasn’t like him to be this... off. He always wore that smug grin, that careless energy that made everything feel like a joke. But now? He looked like he was carrying something heavy, something too complicated to shake off.

You wanted to ask him what was going on, but you knew better. If Gojo didn’t bring it up, he wasn’t going to. You could tell that much, even with the unease simmering beneath his usually cool exterior.

You both reached the convenience store, the automatic doors sliding open with a soft whoosh as you entered. The familiar hum of the coolers and the bright fluorescent lights did little to ease the tension hanging between you. You found a seat near the back, not really feeling hungry or in the mood to browse, so you just sat there, hands folded in your lap, eyes following Gojo as he wandered over to the drinks section.

You watched him from the corner of your eye, expecting him to grab his usual—his go-to strawberry iced tea, the one he always joked about being his secret weapon—but to your surprise, his hand reached for something different. He grabbed a can of beer, the silver can catching the dim light as he turned towards the cashier.

Your brows furrowed slightly, not because you had a problem with it, but because it was so out of character for him. Gojo, the always-lighthearted, playful figure, wasn’t someone you expected to be reaching for alcohol, especially not when the atmosphere had been so... different tonight.

He returned to the seat next to you after quickly paying for the drink, the cool can in his hand now making a soft, faintly metallic sound as he cracked it open. The hiss of the carbonation was the only sound between you two for a few moments as he took a long drink, the beer slipping past his lips without the usual playful smirk that usually accompanied any of his actions.

You hesitated, the air thick with unspoken words. You weren’t sure if you should say something or just let him be, but you could feel that something was wrong—something deeper than whatever lighthearted banter he would usually throw your way. You’d known him long enough to see when something was off. Tonight, it was impossible to ignore.

Finally, after a few more moments of silence, you couldn’t hold it in any longer. You turned toward him, your voice quiet but laced with concern. “What’s going on with you, Satoru?”

He didn’t immediately respond, the can still in his hand as he stared straight ahead, his expression unreadable. His lips pressed together in a thin line as if he was weighing his words. The silence stretched on, heavy and thick with anticipation. Then, as though he couldn’t keep it inside any longer, he muttered just one word:

"Mina."

It was soft, almost lost in the distance of the moment. But hearing it—the way it left his lips so raw, so fragmented—sent a jolt through you. This wasn’t the playful Gojo you knew. This was someone who was struggling, someone who didn’t have all the answers.

You blinked, the name hanging in the air like a strange weight. Mina. You’d thought the two of them were the perfect couple. They had that effortless chemistry, the kind of bond that seemed unshakable. Gojo and Mina—it just made sense. They were the kind of pair people would look at and say, "That’s it. They’re meant to be." And yet, hearing Gojo say that name now, in the quiet of this moment, felt like a crack in a carefully built illusion.

You hadn’t expected this. The way he said it, though... so quiet, so far removed from his usual confident, teasing tone, made you pause. You’d never once imagined that Gojo—someone so composed, so unflappable—could be this thrown off by a relationship. It was unsettling to think that things might not be as perfect as they appeared.

Before you could gather your thoughts to ask what had happened, Gojo let out a long sigh, rubbing the back of his neck as if he was already exhausted by the very thought of explaining. “It’s complicated,” he said, cutting off any further questions you might have had.

You could tell from the way he said it, with that tired edge in his voice, that this wasn’t something simple. It wasn’t just an argument or a misunderstanding. There was more beneath the surface—something tangled up in emotions and expectations that Gojo clearly didn’t know how to untangle.

He took another sip from the can, his fingers tight around it once more, like he was trying to hold onto something before it slipped away.

"Tell me,” you said softly, your voice steady despite the tension creeping up your spine. "Whatever it is, you can talk to me."

He looked at the can in his hands for a long moment, his fingers white-knuckled around it. The weight of silence hung heavy in the air before he finally spoke again, his voice quieter this time.

“It’s not that she’s done anything wrong,” he muttered, as if trying to convince himself. “She’s... a good girlfriend. She hasn’t done anything bad, nothing’s wrong with her.”

He let out a frustrated breath, eyes narrowing as he traced the rim of the can with his thumb. “But... it’s like something’s missing. Like, when I first met her, I thought I saw something, you know? There was this... feeling, like we clicked or something. But now, every time I’m with her, it feels... off. It’s not her fault, she’s not doing anything different, it’s just—” He trailed off, searching for the words, but they just wouldn’t come.

He let out a quiet laugh, self-deprecating and bitter. “Maybe I built some kind of... fantasy around her, and now that I’m seeing who she really is, it doesn’t line up. I thought it was something real, but now... I’m not sure.”

You could see it, the confusion in his eyes. He wasn’t blaming her—he wasn’t even sure what was wrong, but the discomfort was there, thick and undeniable. It wasn’t that Mina had changed, but that Gojo’s perception of her had cracked, leaving him to figure out if there was anything left of what he thought was there.

You took a slow breath, trying to find the right words as you watched him wrestle with himself. You could tell this was weighing heavily on him, and it wasn’t just about Mina—it was about Gojo grappling with something deeper, something he wasn’t sure how to explain even to himself.

You leaned back slightly, your voice soft but steady. “I get it,” you said, choosing your words carefully. “When you first meet someone, it’s easy to get swept up in the feeling of it all—the excitement, the newness. And maybe... maybe you started seeing things in her that you wanted to see, or that felt right in the moment.”

You paused, allowing him to process, before continuing. “But just because you’re feeling like things aren’t clicking now, doesn’t mean it’s a lost cause. Sometimes, when we’re with someone, we get so focused on the idea of them that we forget to focus on who they really are. And maybe that's what’s throwing you off—you’re seeing the real her now, and it’s different from the image you had in your head.”

You could see the tension in his face, but you pressed on, keeping your tone gentle. “It’s not a bad thing, Gojo. People aren’t perfect, and relationships are never just about the spark you feel at the beginning. The real connection, the deep stuff, that comes over time. Maybe it’s just a matter of slowing down and letting things evolve naturally, instead of forcing them into some mold you’ve created.”

You shifted slightly, choosing to be honest with him. “It sounds like you’re scared of being disappointed or realizing that it’s not what you thought, but maybe you just need time to figure out who she really is, and who you are with her. You might not have all the answers right now, and that’s okay.”

You gave him a small, understanding smile. “Just don’t give up too soon because of some uncomfortable feelings. If you’re both willing to figure it out, it doesn’t have to be the end of something good. Sometimes it takes work to get through the doubts and see what’s really there.”

Gojo leaned back, his gaze drifting once more as if the answer was just beyond his reach. His hands rested loosely on his knees, the can in his hand now forgotten. His tone was quiet, almost tentative, as he finally spoke.

Gojo sat in silence for a moment, his eyes fixed on the floor as he processed your words. The usual intensity in his expression was softened, like he was turning over each of your points in his mind, carefully weighing them. His hands, once tense around the can, were now resting in his lap, fingers loosely intertwined as if the weight had lifted, even just slightly.

You could feel the shift, the way his posture had changed. He was listening—not just hearing—but truly taking in what you were saying. He took a deep breath, his shoulders easing as he finally looked up, meeting your gaze. There was a flicker of clarity in his eyes, though the storm wasn’t fully gone yet.

“I get it,” he said, his voice low but sincere. “I understand where you're coming from. You're right. Maybe I’ve been too focused on this idea I had about her, this... perfect picture I painted in my head. And now that it’s not lining up, it’s throwing me off. I’m just... I guess I was expecting things to be a certain way, and now it feels like I’m not even sure where I stand anymore.”

He sighed, rubbing the back of his neck as his gaze drifted down again, looking almost lost in thought. “I know you’re right. I can’t expect everything to be perfect, and I shouldn’t be so quick to judge her for not matching whatever image I had. But—” He paused, the hesitation creeping back into his voice.

"But..." you prompted gently, knowing there was more he was holding back.

Gojo’s eyes flicked to you, a mixture of frustration and uncertainty crossing his features. “But… I’m just not sure if she’s the one,” he said, his voice trailing off like he was unsure even about admitting it to himself. He ran a hand through his hair, looking anywhere but at you for a moment, as if the words felt too heavy.

“It’s not like I don’t care about her. I do. And she’s a good person. She’s been nothing but kind to me, and we get along well enough. But... I don’t know. It’s just this nagging feeling I can’t shake. Like, maybe we’re not as compatible as I thought we were. Like, something’s missing.” He let out a frustrated sigh, staring at the ground for a long moment.

He looked up at you then, his expression conflicted. “I don’t want to keep second-guessing myself, but at the same time... I don’t want to lead her on if I’m not sure. I don’t want to be the guy who’s just going through the motions, thinking it’ll work out, when deep down I’m not sure if we’re actually right for each other. It wouldn’t be fair to her.”

He glanced at you with a bit of vulnerability in his eyes, a rare sight for Gojo. “I mean, I don’t want to keep dragging her into something if I’m not sure I can give her what she needs. And I can’t help but wonder if... if I’m just waiting for something that isn’t there.”

He let the silence linger for a beat before he shook his head, running a hand over his face. “It’s not that I don’t like her. It’s just... am I really feeling what I thought I was? Or was it just... a good idea in my head?”

You hesitated, unsure of the right thing to say, because this wasn’t exactly the kind of situation you were used to dealing with. Gojo was always so confident, so sure of himself, and now, seeing him so lost—it felt unfamiliar and honestly, a little overwhelming.

You shifted uncomfortably in your seat, unsure how to ease his tension. You knew that you couldn’t just throw out words of wisdom like it was all simple, because it wasn’t. It wasn’t simple for him, and you didn’t want to make it worse by trying to give advice that sounded too rehearsed.

After a long pause, you spoke, trying to find a balance between understanding and honesty. “I mean, I can’t tell you what to do. It’s not like I have the answers for this kind of stuff.” You let out a soft, nervous laugh, realizing that you weren’t exactly the expert here.

“But...” You trailed off, trying to gather your thoughts. “You’re not alone in feeling confused about this. Relationships are messy, and sometimes, it’s hard to know what the right thing is. What you’re feeling—doubt, uncertainty—it’s not abnormal. It’s just... part of figuring things out.”

You fidgeted a little, glancing down at your hands. “I guess what I’m trying to say is... it’s okay not to have all the answers. I think you just need to give yourself permission to take a step back. Maybe let it go a bit slower, without all the pressure to know if it's ‘the one’ right away. And if something’s still unclear, then... you can figure it out. It doesn’t have to be right or wrong all at once.”

You looked up at him again, your voice softer. “It’s just, don’t feel like you have to have it all figured out right now. I’m not sure if that helps or anything, but... that’s the best I got.”

Gojo was quiet for a moment, taking everything in, and you couldn’t help but wonder if your words had actually made any impact. But then he turned to you, a small smile tugging at his lips. It wasn’t his usual teasing grin, but something softer, almost relieved.

“Man, look at you getting all deep and philosophical. Didn’t know you had it in you,” he teased, his voice light and playful.

You blinked, feeling a rush of heat to your face. “Shut up,” you muttered, trying to act like you weren’t completely embarrassed by the whole thing. “I’m just trying to help, okay?”

Gojo chuckled, clearly enjoying the way you reacted. “I know, I know. But seriously, I didn’t think you were the ‘advice-giving’ type. I’ll be honest, that was a little... sappy.”

You huffed, crossing your arms and glaring at him, though you could feel the warmth on your cheeks. “Well, maybe you need it. You act like you have everything figured out, but look at you now—getting all lost in your own head.”

He held his hands up in mock surrender, still grinning. “Okay, okay, I get it. Sappy, but helpful. Can’t deny that. But don’t let it go to your head.”

You looked at him, now slightly less flustered, and offered a small smile. “Yeah, well, I’m just saying... Sometimes things aren’t as simple as we want them to be. It’s okay not to have everything figured out right away. Relationships take time.”

Gojo met your eyes, his expression more thoughtful now, and he let out a long breath. “Yeah... I guess I’ve been putting too much pressure on myself to have it all figured out. Thanks for the reminder.” His smile came back, softer this time. “You’ve got a point. Maybe I do need to take a step back and just see where it goes.”

You nodded, feeling a little more at ease now. “It’s not a race, ‘Toru. Don’t rush it. Just let things happen as they do.”

There was a comfortable silence between you for a moment, before Gojo broke it, his tone still teasing but less guarded.

“Alright, alright. I’ll try to take it slow, philosopher,” he said with a wink.

You rolled your eyes, but the tension had definitely eased. “Yeah, yeah, just don’t get all sappy on me again.”

Gojo grinned, clearly in a better place than before. “I’ll try to spare you from that. But hey, next time you drop some deep wisdom on me, I’ll be ready.”

You flushed a little again but couldn’t help the smile that tugged at your lips. “Don’t push it, Gojo.”

─────────────────────────────────────────────────────

As the two of you walked back home, the air between you had shifted. The tension that had lingered for so long was finally gone, replaced by a quiet comfort that settled over both of you. You found yourself walking in step with Gojo, the rhythm of your footsteps syncing naturally as you let the silence between you stretch, not feeling the need to fill it with words.

Now that the weight of the conversation had lifted, you allowed your gaze to wander to him, something you hadn’t done too openly before.

There was something almost disarming about Gojo when the playful edge in his voice softened, when he wasn’t in “Gojo mode.” His features, though still sharp and striking, held a kind of warmth that you hadn’t expected to see, a rawness that only revealed itself in moments like this—when he was being real with you.

His eyes, usually full of that mischievous glint, looked calmer now, more reflective, and as the light from the streetlamps caught his hair, it almost seemed to glow with an ethereal quality. The way he carried himself, effortlessly cool yet undeniably human, made you pause and just take him in, appreciating him for a moment. His presence felt different now—less overwhelming and more... grounding.

And then, as if on cue, you caught yourself smiling, soft and almost wistful. It was strange, the way just being near him—hearing his voice, feeling the quiet ease that had settled between you—seemed to heal something inside you, something you hadn’t even realized was aching until it started to fade away.

It was like the weight of the world didn’t seem so heavy anymore. Like, somehow, everything felt a little more manageable in the moment.

You allowed yourself to enjoy the moment a little longer, the quiet warmth between you two still lingering as you walked the rest of the way home. But even as you let yourself bask in the calm, a part of you couldn't fully relax. Deep down, you knew this wasn't something that would last long. Gojo had been here tonight because of his issue with Mina, and once that was sorted out, you figured things would go back to how they were before—back to the teasing, playful banter and the walls he'd built up around himself.

It wasn’t that you didn’t enjoy this version of him, the one that was more genuine, more grounded—it was just that you knew the reality. Once he figured things out with Mina, he’d go back to being the Gojo everyone knew. And you’d go back to being just... you.

You reached the front door of your apartment, the familiar hum of the city in the background, and paused. Turning to face Gojo, you smiled, though the weight of your thoughts lingered in the back of your mind.

"Thanks for walking me home," you said, keeping your voice light, though there was a little more softness to it than usual.

Gojo looked at you, his usual playful grin starting to creep back, but there was something different in his eyes. A flicker of sincerity from earlier still hung there. "Of course," he said with a casual shrug. "What would I do if you got caught up in some crazy situation without me? You know I can’t let that happen."

His voice was light, but the way he said it carried an undercurrent of care, something unspoken that made the words feel warmer than they usually would.

You raised an eyebrow, unable to help a small laugh. “I’m pretty sure I could manage, but I’ll take it as a compliment.”

He shot you that signature grin, the one that could charm just about anyone, but there was still a softness to it now—an openness that didn’t quite match his usual carefree demeanor.

"Hey, I’m just saying," he said with a smirk, "if you ever need a bodyguard, you know where to find me."

Despite the playfulness in his tone, you could feel the weight of the moment pressing in on both of you. The reality of the situation, of his relationship with Mina, still lingered in the air, and you couldn’t shake the feeling that this moment—this brief, real side of Gojo—might slip away once everything was sorted out.

You pushed the thought down and smiled, trying to keep the mood light. "I’ll keep that in mind," you replied, though part of you wasn’t sure you’d ever need him that way.

There was a brief pause, and then you cleared your throat, pulling yourself back into the present. "I really do hope things work out with Mina, Satoru," you said, your voice sincere. "You deserve to get everything figured out."

Gojo’s smile faltered slightly at the mention of Mina. It wasn’t the usual teasing grin anymore, but something softer, more thoughtful, as though the thought of her pulled him out of the moment for a second.

He reached up, almost absentmindedly, to ruffle your hair, a subtle attempt to lighten the mood. “You worry too much,” he said, his voice a little quieter, his fingers running through your hair in a playful but gentle motion.

You flinched, swatting his hand away lightly. “Satoru, come on, you’re messing it up.”

Gojo chuckled softly at your reaction, but instead of pulling his hand away, he kept it there, his fingers still resting on your head. He gave you a gentle pat this time, his touch light but lingering, almost like he didn’t want to break the moment just yet.

He was staring at you, his expression unreadable, as if there was something in his gaze that wasn’t quite matching his usual carefree attitude. For a split second, the usual playful energy around him seemed to dissipate, replaced by something softer. Something you couldn’t quite put your finger on.

Despite how many times Gojo had been touchy with you before, this time was different. His gaze felt heavier, more intense, and it made you feel uncomfortably aware of the way his hand rested on you. A soft heat spread through you, and before you knew it, your cheeks were flushing, the warmth creeping up your neck.

Then, almost absentmindedly, Gojo’s hand dropped from your hair to gently cup your cheek, his thumb brushing over the soft skin beneath your eye. You froze at the touch, your breath catching in your throat as the tender motion sent a shiver down your spine.

His touch was so gentle, so unexpectedly intimate, that it left you momentarily speechless. Gojo’s thumb continued its slow, soothing stroke over your cheek, his eyes still locked onto yours, watching the way your expression shifted.

For a moment, everything else seemed to fade away—the night, the world around you, even the uncertainty that had been lingering in the air. It was just him, just you, and the quiet tension that seemed to wrap itself around the both of you, neither of you daring to move or speak.

You couldn’t help but feel your heart race, unsure of what this moment meant or how to react to it. You’d never felt quite so exposed in front of him, as if his touch and gaze were pulling something out of you that you didn’t know was there.

Gojo’s smile was still soft, his eyes not leaving yours, but there was something about the way he looked at you—something different than before. A strange vulnerability, maybe, or perhaps just a shared moment of silence that neither of you had the words to explain.

And for a heartbeat, everything felt... unsettled, as though the line between what was familiar and what was new had blurred just enough to make you question whether you were still in control of the situation.

You broke the silence, your voice barely above a whisper, but it cut through the stillness like a soft breeze. “Satoru?”

The sound of your voice seemed to snap Gojo out of whatever trance he had been in. His eyes blinked rapidly, as though he were shaking himself back to reality, and the softness that had filled the air between you suddenly wavered.

Gojo blinked rapidly, his eyes shifting as if he were suddenly realizing what had just occurred. His hand pulled away from your cheek like it was almost burning, and he stepped back, an almost startled expression crossing his face. The teasing, playful demeanor faltered for a second, and you could see the surprise flicker in his eyes—not just from you, but perhaps from the moment itself.

"Ah... sorry," he muttered quickly, running a hand through his hair in an awkward gesture that didn’t quite match his usual calm. “Didn’t mean to... uh... get so close.”

He cleared his throat, visibly trying to regain his usual composure. With a shaky smile, he waved his hand as if brushing it off. "Anyway, I should get going."

You nodded, a strange tightness in your chest. He was already backing away, his voice lighter than before but with a hint of haste in it. "Take care, alright?" His tone was almost clipped, a sharp contrast to the softness that had lingered moments before.

You wanted to say something, to stop him, but the words got stuck in your throat. You simply watched as Gojo, with one last glance over his shoulder, turned and started walking down the hallway.

He didn't look back this time, his figure disappearing into the distance and then into the lift, the doors sliding shut behind him with a soft, almost final sound.

The quietness that followed felt almost suffocating, the cool night air filling the space where he had stood. You stood there, staring at the spot where he had just been, unsure of what to make of everything. Your heart was still racing, the lingering touch on your cheek echoing in your mind, and you couldn’t shake the feeling that something had shifted, but you couldn't quite put your finger on what it was.

As the sound of the elevator faded away, all you were left with was the lingering memory of him, his touch, his gaze—and the sudden weight of everything unsaid.

[cringe--is--dead]

𝖀𝖒𝖊𝖒𝖎𝖞𝖆 𝕳𝖆𝖏𝖎𝖒𝖊 𝖝 𝕽𝖊𝖆����𝖊𝖗; 𝕬𝖗𝖗𝖆𝖓𝖌𝖊𝖉 𝕸𝖆𝖗𝖗𝖎𝖆𝖌𝖊 𝕻𝖙. 3

𝕻𝖆𝖗𝖙 𝕺𝖓𝖊

𝕻𝖆𝖗𝖙 𝕿𝖜𝖔

𝓐/𝓝: again, I go into writing these as blind as y'all reading them so I'm so sorry if this is rushed! >.< Also! It's been a hot second! So sorry! I had a bit of... a mental health crisis, got myself put under a bit of a 72-hour hold... but I'm here! And back! Kind of. I'm not super proud of this chapter, I'm so sorry!

It had been a few days since your arrival, since your official first meeting with the man who was to be your husband. Yet, though you assured him and Kotoha you were well rested now, that's all he remained. The man who would be your husband.

It was almost... frustrating to deal with. Your first meeting with your oldest brother's wife was at their wedding; she was beautiful, quiet in her white, lacey, dress. It was quick, you were scolded when you fidgeted in your dress, and your brother and his wife took off not long into the reception. The same thing happened when your second and third brother got married, and it wasn't until you turned thirteen you had learned what happened after a wedding such as those.

Your sister's wedding had been different, the man she had married was kind with both his words and his actions. He allowed your sister to mingle with her family, mainly you and your mother, before he introduced her to people he knew; those he did business with, his own family that had managed to show up and, looking back on it you realized now, a handful of his concubines.

Though she hadn't been taken to bed right then, the wedding was still a quick affair, and you were beginning to question why Umemiya was prolonging yours.

"You seem upset by something."

You thanked the years of etiquette practice that you didn't jump and drop your spoon, merely turning your gaze towards Kotoha who was sending an almost pitying look your way. You placed the spoon down, hands falling to your lap.

"I'm just thinking, I suppose."

Cherry meowed quietly, upset that Kotoha had stopped petting her. Your future sister-in-law continued to pamper her, studying your figure, "Is something the matter?"

"I'm just..." You bit your tongue.

You were allowed to speak freely here, so far. But you were worried that there was a line you'd accidently cross.

"Go on," Her voice was kind, reminding you, in a way, of your own mother.

"It's been about a week since I arrived here, and well," You twisted the fabric of your outfit in your hands, the clothe more comfortable to move around than the ones you grew up in, "There's been no discussion of when I shall be married to Umemiya officially. Have I... done something to offend him since arriving?"

You can only imagine how angry your father's letters will be once they begin arriving. At this rate, you had been gone for months, and he hadn't received one word of your wedding. You wouldn't be surprised if he appeared on one of his ships, demanding answers.

“No, you haven’t done anything,” Kotoha leaned towards you, gently placing her hand atop of yours, the warmth comforting, “I promise you. He’s just… working on finishing a few things.”

“And those things happen to be completed!” Umemiya’s voice was loud and boisterous, having the two of your startle where you were, turning to see him walking towards you, a large smile on his face.

“Kotoha, if I can borrow my fiancé for a moment?”

You felt your cheeks warm at the title given to you. Yes, you knew logically since you two were to be married you were his fiancé, but he said the word with so much warmth.

She looked from him to you, before nodding, telling you she’d find you later, and leaving you two alone. You weren't entirely sure what to say; he must have known you were growing rather antsy to wait, not that you would have disclosed that to his face.

If he was anything like the men you grew up with he would have exploded at you by now, reminding you that your opinions and your annoyance was of no importance to him, to know your place. Instead he smiled at you, and it was as warm and welcoming as it was the first time you ever saw him.

"I know you must hate waiting as long as you have been," He began, gently taking your hand in his and tugging you to follow him down the hall, leading you towards the entrance to the estate, "But I promise you, I think it will have been worth it."

You merely nodded, unsure of what it was he was planning. Maybe he had more business to attend to before becoming a married man? Granted, there was really only one type of business you could think of that would be affected direly due to his marital status, and though you may not know him all too well, you felt as if that wasn't within his character.

Outside the estate was an older woman, much shorter than you, accompanied by a man a few years older than you both. He was holding some type of clothe cover, allowing the older lady to gently fuss over whatever it held.

"Granny!" Umemiya paused, and you followed suit, nodding your head politely while he bowed towards her.

She turned, a serine smile on her face when she saw the pair of you, "Oh goodness! Umemiya-kun wasn't lying, you're quite beautiful young lady."

"Oh," You felt your heart skip a beat in your chest, cheeks ablaze as you thanked her, glancing towards your fiancé who didn't look ashamed at the statement.

"I know our traditions regarding weddings are rather different," He turned towards you quickly, and you felt a bit confused as to what the point he was going to make was, "So I had Kotoha and Tsubaki find different styles and ideas that were closest to Western wear that they could, and we commissioned this for you."

The lady began gently unwrapping the cloth her son, or grandson, was holding. Your knowledge of Japanese wedding kimonos was rather limited, but you knew immediately that the dress before you was not one. It was beautiful, to say the least.

It was far less showy than the dresses you had seen at all your siblings' weddings, but that was fine with you. The fabric appeared rather light, swaying in the gentle breezes that danced past. It wasn't too thick, no extra padding or extra fabric that would make your skin itch and crawl.

"It's beautiful," Was all you could muster to say, eyes wide as you stared at the dress-- at your wedding dress.

"I'm glad you like it, my dear," She quickly wrapped it back up, ushering her son to take it inside, "It was quite fun to make, I made sure the fabric was softer than the poor examples Tsubaki-chan brought me. The dresses your father sent with you were rather uncomfortable, I do hope you'll let me make more clothes for you in the future. Your children, too."

"C-Children?"

"Alright, granny!" Umemiya cut in, pointedly, but not unkindly, all while the older lady giggled rather mischievously, "We've got one more place to go to, thank you for the gown."

She waved you two off as he led you two out, hand on the small of your back as he ushered you out. The estate wasn't quite as large as the one you grew up in, but it was large none-the-less, and you two were quickly eloped in a comfortable silence. He had yet to move his hand from your back, and the touch was burning, in an unfamiliar way.

It was rather... nice.

"Thank you. For the gown. It really is beautiful."

He smiled, eyes crinkling as he chuckled, "It's your wedding as well, I wanted to incorporate some things from your culture as well."

"You didn't have to."

He shrugged in response, "But I wanted to."

He wanted to. For you. Your heart fluttered once more, your chest squeezing uncomfortably, and you quickly looked away from him, studying the cherry petals that danced in the afternoon breeze.

"I know that this marriage isn't something you had asked for," It was startling how quiet he had become, his voice lacking the boy like charm or the energy it had contained before.

"But I promise you I will do everything I can to be the best husband for you, I'll make sure your needs are always met, that you're never left unhappy or wanting." He had stopped walking at this point, and, in turn, you had stopped as well, facing him with wide eyes.

"You will have freedom here, to study and learn whatever your heart desires. You'll be able to help with decisions for the town if you so choose, your opinions and voice matter her," Your hands were in his, and you dropped your gaze to them.

They were much larger than yours, and you could feel the callouses on the palms of his hands. He worked hard, he held power over his town, but he worked with them as well as for them. You'd seen first hand these past few days how many people felt comfortable and safe coming to him with problems, requesting aid or help, and how quickly he was to ensure they received that help.

"I- I don't doubt it," Despite how certain he always seemed, you could hear the vulnerability in his voice, the desire to make sure you believed the words he was saying to you, "You... have been far kinder than most men in my life before now."

He nodded, and you glanced up, noting that, while that seemed to assure him, the sentence seemed to make him deflate a tiny bit. The melancholy look was quickly replaced, movement seeming to catch his attention. He nodded over to where he was looking, and after a moment of confusion, you looked over, curious as to what he was trying to show you.

"It's rather beautiful here," You felt your mouth open, a gasp much louder than intended falling from your lips, "Seems a rather nice place to settle down."

You were taking off down the pavement before you realized it, warm tears budding in your eyes as you ran. For how quickly you made your way to your destination, your sister had managed to drop the bag she had been holding, uncaring as it fell into the grass. You all but fell into her arms, sobs of-- what? Happiness? Sadness?

Whatever you were feeling, you were sobbing in your big sister's arms, her holding you as close as she had when you were a mere child. Her hands were combing through your hair, and you felt a few warm tears of her own fall onto your head.

"You look beautiful in your kimono, darling," You laughed, squeezing her tighter.

Some part of you was vaguely aware of Umemiya walking to join you all, greeting her husband, the pair of them allowing you two your moment as they directed where the bags should be sent to.

Finally, you pulled back, sure your face was blotchy and red in all the wrong places, "What are you doing here?"

Her hands cupped your cheeks, thumbing under your eyes as she rid you of the few tears still falling. She smiled, looking as radiant and beautiful as she always did to you.

"I'm here for your wedding, silly goose," She placed a gentle kiss on your forehead, "Your fiancé sent us letters as soon as you departed from father's, we would have been here sooner but we ran into a minor storm on the way here."

Before you could panic over that idea she shushed you, "It's all fine now. We just may have to stay a bit longer now," She winked, "Just to ensure our ship is in top shape."

"You all are welcome to stay as long as you please," Umemiya spoke, and you turned to him; he was smiling, a true smile, large and happy and warm and everything you were feeling in that moment, "We have enough room."

Your sister stepped back, thanking him, her husband moving to pick up her bag, smiling softly at you, "It's nice to see you again."

You nodded, rubbing at your nose, "You as well."

Umemiya shifted to stand a bit closer, "I hope the waiting seems worth it, I was hoping things could have worked out perfectly, but I'm not one who can control the weather. Nor do I understand making clothes, Tsubaki scolded me every time I went to check on your dress--"

You threw yourself towards him, wrapping your arms around his shoulders, having to stand on your tiptoes as you pulled him into a tight hug.

"Thank you, thank you, thank you so much." You felt as if you sounded borderline hysteric, but you couldn't bring yourself to care.

He wrapped his arms back around you, the weight on your waist oddly comforting, grounding.

"Anything for you," You pulled back after a moment, flat on your feet as you looked up to him, "I mean it."

A/N: part four will (should be) the wedding! and maybe more!

[7ndipity]

Dating Jungkook headcanons

Jungkook x Reader

Warnings: some swearing, a lil suggestive, I think that's it

A/N: Thank you to the lovely anon who requested this, I've never written a list like this before so it's a little scattered, sorry. Anyway I'm very soft for this man now, goodbye.

Masterlist

Requests are open

°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•

Dating Jungkook is, for lack of a better word, messy. But like in all the best ways.

Late night hangouts when y'all can't sleep and you just end up at the local convenience store, eating snacks or whatever and talking until you notice the sun coming up.

I know I wrote a lil blurb abt it already, but karaoke dates are a regular occurrence. Doesn't matter if you can sing or not, y'all are just having a good time seeing who can hit the highest note(it's him, sorry)

He's one of those people whose friends probably tease cause he says "my s/o is my best friend". But he actually means it, you are his best friend.(I really feel like he would fall for a friend, but that's a discussion for a ot7 reaction I'm working on for next week👀)

Acts really cocky sometimes, but will fold like a house of cards(ha) into the softest boi at the slightest provocation from you.

He's fucking whipped for you, and he knows it.

Was so nervous to kiss you the first time that he legit backed out like three times before it finally happened.

Probably has some kind of nickname for you like "my light" or "my life."

But on the other hand, y'all also tease each other relentlessly, it's like a second love language with him.

Like he will sit there while you're trying to read or smth and poke your cheeks until he gets a reaction out of you.

Will make height jokes, even if you're only like 1in shorter than him.

"Tiny baby." He coos while patting your head. "I'm gonna climb up there and kill you." You warn. "So tiny, so precious."

But if he catches anyone else giving you a hard time about something, God help them.

Possessive(*cough perilla leaf debate)

Gives you his sweatshirts to wear because you look cute in them, but also loves that it's a subtle sign to anybody else that you're his.

This goes both ways though, he loves when you call him yours.

The first time you called him "your boyfriend", he legit short-circuited for a second.

Would probably have matching, macrame type couple bracelets that y'all made together for your second or third month anniversary.

Protective AF

Does that thing where he makes sure you walk on the inner half of the sidewalk when are you're out together, so you're protected from the street?

Not big on Pda exactly, but usually has an arm around you or is holding your hand. He doesn't even realize he's doing it sometimes, it's just kinda become a habit to have you close as much as possible.

He gets so little time with you as it is, so he just wants to make every second count.

When it's just the two of you though, he becomes a fucking koala and will NOT let you go.

Clings to you like his life depends on it.

Begs you to stay over all the time, swears that he can't sleep well unless you're next to him.

At this point, you might as well move in, half of your shit's at his place already anyway.

Looks at you like you're a literal dream.

Like some mornings when neither of you are really awake yet, you look over and he's just staring at you over your coffee mug like🥺

Loves to make you flustered tho

Like, if he notices you have a thing for his arms, he's gonna take every chance he can to roll his sleeves up in front of you just to see your face go red.

Randomly walks up to and gives you these deep, intense kisses and then? just fucking walks away as if nothing happened? Like, nuh-uh, get your ass back here and finish what you started sir!

Talks about your future together with such casual certainty. Like "when we get married, we should get a house like that".

Refers to Bam as your child.

Idk where I'm going with this or how to end it, so I'm just gonna stop here, but yeah. I just think he's neat lol.

[lvnchh]

Burnt Edges

Abby Anderson x f!reader (with PTSD) 👉🏻original version 👈🏻 Wanted to make another version for my Abby girls so y'all can feel represented too 🫶🏻

I'm a minor and if you want to complain or insult me about it, just don't interact🙏🏻. It's my life, and I'm free to write whatever I want as long as I'm not bothering anyone. Also, please don't judge any grammar mistakes, as English is not my native language. I'm sorry if the whole story isn't that good.

TW: I have PTSD (DIAGNOSED), and what you're about to read is based on my personal experiences. Writing about it is a form of therapy for me. If you are sensitive to topics like violence and domestic violence, please do not continue reading. Thank you🙏🏻

Btw I need more Abby x PTSD reader stories because I want to feel less alone and represented

story below the cut

The WLF base was bustling as usual, soldiers moving in every direction with purpose. It was organized chaos, but the rhythm of it kept your mind just busy enough to not wander too far. You had been here for weeks now, a stray who Abby had somehow decided was worth keeping around. She didn’t talk much about why—just said you seemed “useful” and left it at that.

But tonight, after the day’s drills and patrols, you needed air. The weight in your chest had been building all day, the familiar tightness creeping in. The base was too loud, too crowded, too much like the chaos you used to live in. You found yourself climbing to the roof, the one place no one ever seemed to go.

When the door creaked open behind you, you sighed. So much for solitude.

“Figured I’d find you up here,” Abby said, her voice steady but not unkind.

You turned, finding her leaning casually against the doorway. Her braid hung over her shoulder, and her broad frame filled the space effortlessly. Abby was intimidating at first glance—hell, even second and third glance—but there was something about her that made you feel safe in a way you hadn’t in a long time.

“What gave me away?” you asked, forcing a weak smile as you lit your cigarette.

Abby stepped onto the roof and shrugged. “You disappear when you’re overwhelmed. You’re not as sneaky as you think.”

Her bluntness was typical, but it wasn’t cruel. If anything, it was grounding. She moved to sit beside you, her heavy boots thudding against the concrete as she stretched her legs out.

The two of you sat in silence for a while, the distant hum of the base fading into the background. Abby wasn’t much for small talk, and you appreciated that.

“You smoke a lot for someone who can barely keep up on a run,” she teased eventually, smirking as she glanced at you.

You snorted, shaking your head. “Yeah, well… cardio’s overrated.”

“Not when you’re being chased by infected.”

“Fair point.”

Another silence settled, and you found yourself exhaling a plume of smoke, watching it dissipate into the night. You could feel Abby’s eyes on you, her curiosity barely masked. She wasn’t the kind to pry, but she wasn’t one to let something slide if she thought it mattered.

“You’ve been… off today,” she said after a moment, her voice quieter than usual.

You stiffened, gripping the cigarette between your fingers. “What do you mean?”

Abby shrugged, leaning back on her hands. “You didn’t even flinch when Manny cracked a joke at you earlier. Usually, you’d at least roll your eyes. Something’s eating at you.”

You hesitated, the weight in your chest growing heavier. Abby wasn’t wrong, but the idea of saying it out loud felt suffocating. Still, the look she gave you—patient, steady—made you feel like maybe you could.

“It’s… nothing,” you muttered at first, then winced at her unimpressed scoff. “Okay, fine. It’s not nothing. It’s just—this place. The noise, the shouting, the slamming doors. It reminds me of… home.”

Abby tilted her head, her brows knitting slightly. “Home?”

You took another drag of your cigarette, the smoke burning your throat. “My dad. let’s just say he wasn’t exactly Father of the Year material. Yelling was the least of it.”

You didn’t elaborate, but Abby’s sharp eyes softened, her expression shifting from curiosity to something that looked like understanding.

“Shit,” she muttered, leaning forward. “I didn’t know.”

“Yeah, well,” you said, flicking the ash off your cigarette, “it’s not exactly something I put on my résumé.”

Abby huffed a laugh at that, but it was soft, almost careful. She leaned back again, her gaze fixed on the skyline. “That why you’re always so jumpy?”

You nodded, not bothering to deny it. “PTSD’s a hell of a ride.”

She was quiet for a moment, the tension between you settling into something heavier but not unwelcome. “I can’t even imagine what that’s like,” she said finally, her voice low. “But… I get the needing space part. I didn’t grow up with that kind of shit, but since… since everything with my dad and the Fireflies, sometimes it feels like I can’t breathe when things get too loud.”

Her admission caught you off guard, and you turned to look at her. For all her strength, Abby carried a weight too. It was different from yours, but it was still there, etched into the set of her jaw and the faint lines around her eyes.

“Well,” you said, smirking despite the heaviness in your chest, “guess we’re both a little screwed up.”

“Guess so,” Abby agreed, a faint smile tugging at her lips.

You took one last drag of your cigarette before stubbing it out against the concrete. Then, without thinking, you added, “What can I say? My PTSD made me hotter.”

Abby blinked, staring at you for a moment before bursting into a laugh—a real, genuine laugh that echoed into the night. It was rare to hear her laugh like that, and you couldn’t help but grin, feeling a little lighter just from the sound.

“You’re ridiculous,” she said, shaking her head as she wiped a tear from the corner of her eye.

“Yeah, but you love it,” you shot back, leaning back on your hands with a smug smile.

Abby rolled her eyes, but the warmth in her expression betrayed her. “Don’t push your luck, rookie.”

[maya-caffrey]

Strawberry Froyo

pairing: tasm!peter x reader words: 1.4k a/n: y'all i suck at summaries but trust me, it's good summary: you make a new friend :) warning: none, this is pure unadulterated fluff, there's some language tho; ps: this is from the reader's pov

“Son of a-” I silently cursed to myself when I realized late for science. Again. It was the third time this week and I knew my teacher was not going to be pleased. I didn’t have time to waste so I picked up my big stack of books and raced down the hallway towards the classroom until I was oh so rudely knocked over by Eugene ‘Flash’ Thompson who seemed to be in a hurry. Probably to bully some poor kid. Or teacher. Dick. 

“Hey watch where you’re going, Eugene” I yelled. Ah, crap. I knew he hated being called Eugene. Pretty much everyone knew. Boy was I in trouble.

“What did you just say?” Uh oh. Uh oh. Uh oh. Shit shit shit fu-

“Back off, man, come on. Leave her alone.” This was new. No one ever talked back to Flash. Especially not someone who knows him.  On one hand, I was flattered to see that someone was standing up for me, not that I couldn’t, but it was nice and on the other hand, I feared for this guy’s life. He’d banged heads with Flash before and it didn’t end well for him, as I remembered. He was in a few of my classes. Peter Parker. The kid with the death wish. And a really cool camera.

“Shut up, Parker. You’re in my way.” Flash was making his way towards Peter and my heartbeat got faster because 1, this never ends well, 2, I was scared for señor death wish, and 3, I was very late for science. Probably the wrong thing to worry about but it doesn’t change the fact that I’m late. I figured maybe apologizing would get him to calm down.

“Flash I’m sorry about earlier, I really am, but some of us need to get to class.”  Me. I need to get to class you pretentious douchebag. I was compelled to say it but I liked having teeth. 

He just stood there, silent, like he was desperately trying to calm down, or probably constipating, which I figured meant that I could go. I went back to my stack of books, now lying spread out on the ground, thanks to Flash. I started picking them up one by one when I was joined by a familiar face. 

“Here you go,” he said, after giving me a much larger stack than I had gathered single-handedly. Huh. That was fast. Not just in an impressive way but also in a sort of Are you ok? Are you having an acid trip? way. I put a stop to my train of thought and collected my books from him. He was gone before I could thank him. 

Timeskip brought to you by Psyduck 

After coming up with an excuse for why I was late to science (because I’m not the one with a death wish, no way I’m ratting out Flash), I took my seat and caught up on what I had missed from Gwen. It took me some time to realize that Parker was sitting diagonally in front of me and I wanted to thank him then and there. Despite establishing that he was running short of brain cells, ultimately he stood up for me. It’s not something people bother doing for me. I tore a sheet of paper, expressed my gratitude and I got a little brave and decided to add something more. I crumpled it up and threw it towards where he was sitting. Somehow, somehow, he turned and caught the paper ball. It was like he knew it was coming before it did. What. 

He looked behind him, confused as if to ask what is so important that you must interrupt science, you uncultured swine before relaxing after realizing it was me. Not gonna lie, that made me feel nice. Open it I gestured. He opened it to find a hand-written note that read 

Thank you for standing up for me :) Oh yes and also the books. Thank you for the books. What do you say I make it up to you? Froyo place around the corner, after school? -y/n

He looked at me and smiled before turning back and scribbling something down. I’d be lying if I said that smile didn’t make me smile too because oh lord it was the cutest thing ever. Like baby turtles walking for the first time. Or like baby axolotls. Like a ray of sunshine that -ow. I was distracted after the same paper ball from earlier found me again. I opened it to find the words  

I’d love to :) I’m looking forward to it. -Peter.  

Is it possible to find someone’s handwriting cute? Because I did. For some reason, it was adorable. I smiled to myself and then in his direction after reading it. I don’t know why, but I felt the need to save this paper for a long, long time.

I couldn’t stop smiling for the rest of the day. 

Timeskip brought to you by Roadkill restaurant - you kill ‘em, we grill ‘em. 

I made it to the froyo place first, so I saved him a seat at the best table I could find. You could say I was a little nervous, but to be honest, he seemed very comfortable to be around. He was like a warm cloud of comfort. He was like an old friend you’ve known your whole life. He was five minutes late. 

“I’m so sorry. There was some stuff, and there was some more stuff after that stuff, and then I-”

“Dude, relax, it’s fine. Sit down. Breathe.” He was out of breath like he ran all the way here.

“I-Thanks. I’ll uh, yeah I’ll sit down.” He sat down and took a few minutes to catch his breath. I silently observed him in a non-creepy way and I realized that he was much more adorable closer. He’s the kind of guy who you’d thank after he bumps into you. 

The waiter was here to take our order. “strawberry froyo with cookie dough bites”, we both said simultaneously. Surprise is an understatement. 

“No way, I thought I was the only one,” I said.

“It is an elite combination, and no one can tell me otherwise.”

“Exactly. Everyone I’ve had froyo with says it’s trash, and it’s sad how so many people are wrong.” He laughed at this and told me about other bizarre combinations he had tried. 

We spent the rest of the evening at the froyo place and to say it was amazing would have been a huge understatement. We talked about movies, music, books, and other things we were both interested in and it was incredible how great we got along with each other, considering we’d never even had full conversations before. I felt comfortable around him like you didn’t have to run everything thrice inside your head before I said it. You know when you find someone so in sync with you, it’s like you’re the same person? Like you know exactly what they mean when they say something? That, times a hundred was how I felt. 

“Listen, y/n, I had a great time”

“Likewise, Parker,” I said with a smile. He smiled back and I swear to god one day it’s going to be the death of me. None of us knew what to say so we just smiled like idiots and stared at the suddenly very interesting walls and ground. 

“So, I’ll call you? Later?” I decided to break the silence.

“Oh, yeah, sure, do you have my number?” As he said this, he started getting a little restless and I could swear I heard police sirens somewhere in the distance.

“I don’t think I d-” Before I could complete my sentence, He took my hand, and started writing his number on my palm. As he was writing, I started to feel very aware of the fact that our hands were touching. I felt sort of jumpy like I wanted to twirl and hop my way home. He wrote it with utmost concentration and held my hand like a delicate artifact he was scared of dropping. He was so cute when he was focused. As soon as he was done, he walked away out the door and towards traffic while facing me before screaming “Call me!” and disappearing into the alley nearby on his skateboard.  

I realized I was still there, at the froyo place, lost in my thoughts before I decided to head home as well. Oh boy, I’m in trouble.

[daddy-dins-girl]

Rush

pairing: Dave York x f!Reader

No use of Y/N. No physical description of reader other than that she has hair long enough for Dave to grab... (mood board is for aesthetic purposes only)

Word Count: 5.7k

summary: You're a part-time nanny for the beautiful York family. The money is good, the job is easy, and on days when Mr. York works from home, well, those are more than enough incentive to keep you coming back. (Literally this is just PWP and I'm sorry, not sorry).

notes: the Dave York brain rot is so real y'all. I'm sorry, I know I owe you updates on other stories still! Also, this is my first moodboard EVER. How'd I do? lol.

warnings: 🔞 18+MDNI. PWP (this is basically just smut y'all). Infidelity (is it even Dave York if he's not cheating on his wife?). Implied age gap I guess? (Reader is mentioned to be in college but no actual age is specified. Dave is in his 40's). Dom!Dave York. Degradation kink. Cockwarming. Oral sex (f and m receiving). Protected p in v sex. Inappropriate behaviour during a Zoom call (Dave York is a menace and I will not apologize for that). One ass slap (as far as Dave goes I'd say this fic is a tame one).

My masterlist

A03 link

It’s like you have developed a Pavlovian response to even seeing his name pop up on your screen with the notification alert. You practically start drooling before you even open it to see what he’s said or sent you, you just can’t help yourself. There’s a heat that runs through your veins and you feel it down to your toes, the rush that comes over you over the simple four words displayed across your screen.

Incoming Message: Mr. York

You tap the message to open it and can’t even pretend to ignore the heat that floods your abdomen when you click again and open the attachment inside. The attachment your employer just sent you.

You bite your lower lip as your gaze quickly darts around the room, ensuring nobody is around to see your reaction. The girls of course are with you but they’re planted directly in front of the television, currently mesmerized by Elsa, for the third time this week, not that you’re counting, while you sit dutifully behind them on the sofa. Mrs. York is out shopping or getting her hair done or running errands or whatever it is she does for most of the afternoon that requires you to be here to watch the children. You don’t mind. The money is good, the job is easy, and on days when Mr. York works from home, well, those are more than enough incentive to keep you coming back.

You’re more than a babysitter, more like a nanny, however not full time. You don’t live there, just spend a few hours there each weekday and you’ll watch the girls on occasional evenings or weekends when needed. You pick the girls up from school each day, bring them home and sometimes one or both of their parents are home but busy, or sometimes neither of them are there. You do things like the girls' laundry and prepare their dinner as well as their school lunches for the next day and some light cleaning tasks like the girls' rooms or cleaning the kitchen after you’ve made their meals. It was a good gig that worked well around your current class schedule and the money was much better than what most of your friends made to keep themselves afloat, working in restaurants or retail jobs.Not to mention the added benefit of your job.

Today, lucky for you, is a work from home day for Dave. Mr. York. And the message he sends you leaves no room for interpretation, you know exactly what he wants. You stare at the picture a moment longer, the dark navy blue of his dress slacks with the very obvious outline of his hard-on straining against the fabric. His hand sits on top of his thigh right next to the bulge under his pants and the gold band around his finger on prominent display does absolutely nothing to dissuade you as you push yourself up from the sofa.

“Girls I have some of your laundry to finish up, just keep watching your movie ok and I’ll be back in a little bit” you tell them sweetly and Molly casually acknowledges you with a wave of her hand, Alice not bothered enough to look up from the screen.

Honestly, thank god for Frozen.

You smooth down your skirt as you walk down the stairs to the finished basement and turn the corner to the only firmly closed door in the house. Mr. York's home office. It was off limits to everyone. Everyone except you, when you were invited of course, and the text he just sent you might as well be an embossed formal invitation printed on expensive cardstock.

You don’t bother knocking. You can hear his low voice through the door. It’s muffled and you can’t make out what he’s saying but you know he’s speaking and must be on a call.

A boring conference call.

Your favourite.

You can’t help the smile that tugs at the corners of your lips as you carefully push the door open, ensuring to be quiet and gently push it shut behind you. You don’t bother locking it, not anymore. You had once, the first time, and Dave ensured you that it wasn’t necessary. The girls knew this room was off limits because “Daddy was working” and Carol, if she did bother to come down here at all, would be sure to knock first to not interrupt Dave while he was working. You think he secretly likes the thrill of it, doing absolutely depraved things with you in his family’s home behind an unlocked door, knowing that his wife could walk in whenever she wanted. Of course it’s not something he would ever want his children to see, but it's been engrained well enough in their heads by now not to come down here that he knows he doesn’t need to worry about it.

You turn around from the door after closing it and see him casually leaning back in his office chair, elbow resting on the arm of it while he rests his face on his hand, a bored expression on his handsome features. His government-provided laptop sits open on his desk and you hear a mixture of voices flooding through the speakers though you don’t pay any attention to what they’re saying. You stand near the door still in the middle of the room and begin to unbutton your blouse, ignoring the little flutter in your tummy when you notice Dave sits up a little straighter in his chair. It’s a routine by now. You know what he wants without either of you needing to speak a word. Of course it’s not always the same when you step into this room, but when Dave is on a conference call, this is what you do.

All buttons undone you shrug out of your top and waste no time in undoing your bra next, letting the straps slide off your shoulders as you toss it carelessly to the floor. Next you pull down the zipper to your skirt and tug it down your legs along with your panties, not bothering to waste any time.

Dave likes efficiency. He also likes you completely naked, always, regardless of his level of dress or what the two of you might be doing. Even if he wants you under his desk sucking his cock where he can’t really even see your body, you will be naked while you do it and he’ll likely be fully clothed with just his belt open and zipper pulled down. Those were Dave’s rules. And you were nothing with him if not obedient.

You smile coyly at him as you make your way towards his desk and he pushes his chair back slightly further as he mumbles some confirmation over the speakerphone to his underlings. You know you don’t need to worry about the laptop or the Zoom call he’s currently in, Dave had a little black security sticker placed over every camera lens on all the larger electronics in the house, always taking his privacy seriously. Even the girls' tablets had the camera lenses blacked out.

He puts a single finger to his lips as you walk over to him, signaling to you that you need to be quiet, be his good girl, but of course you already know this. You nod your head slightly as you reach him, hands instinctively running over from the top of his chest up his broad shoulders as you swing one of your legs over him until you're straddled on his lap. Your hands slide back down his front, all the way down until you reach his waist and quietly unfasten his belt, popping the button open on his slacks and sliding his zipper down. Dave helps you by slightly lifting his hips, enough that you can shove down the material of his pants and boxers just enough to set his waiting cock free. You love that even when he’s working from home he is always dressed sharply in a business suit. Today his jacket is off, hung around the back of his chair and his shirt sleeves are rolled up to his forearms but aside from that, everything, including his tie, is perfectly in place.

Dave York, ever the professional, as his personal employee gets situated to sit on his cock during a conference call.

Once he’s on full glorious display for you you look up at him, waiting on his confirmation. That slight nod of his head he gives you that says ‘go on sweet girl, sit on my cock’. Deep brown eyes stare back at you and you wait, unmoving, until he lifts his hand and presses two fingers to your lips. You dutifully open your mouth, inviting them in and suck, wetting them with your tongue and saliva for a few long seconds until he’s satisfied and pulls them away. He immediately brings those same fingers down between your legs and slowly drags them through your folds, a smirk crossing his lips when he feels how wet you are already, how you don’t even need his fingers to be ready to take him. The truth is you were uncomfortably wet before he even sent you that text. The anticipation, the waiting, the wondering if today’s a day when he summons for you, it was enough to have you already worked up.

Despite you being ready he takes a few seconds to leisurely circle your clit with his thick fingers and you have to bite your lip to suppress the moan that wants to come out. You know you need to be quiet, it’s another one of his rules. If he wasn’t on an active call you are allowed to make some noise, he likes it even, but just not loud enough that your voice carries upstairs. His hand not currently working between your legs slides past you to the computer at his desk and you hear the tap of a button and you know he’s hit ‘mute’ on his call.

“Going to be a good girl for me, nice and quiet, right?” He asks and you nod your head.

“Yes” you whimper, sounding wrecked already despite that he’s barely begun.

“That’s good. I unfortunately need to be an active participant in this godforsaken budget meeting and will need to unmute from time to time and god help you if you start moaning like some bitch in heat and somebody hears you, I’ll turn on my camera and let them watch what a slut you are for my cock, do you understand?”

“Yes sir” you nod your head enthusiastically. “I’ll be good”

God the way he speaks to you when you’re together like this, maybe you should be concerned with how hot it gets you but you’re not. You know of course it's just talk, it's a persona he puts on when you’re intimate together and he gathered very quickly early on how much you enjoyed it so these are the roles you play when you are together. Truthfully Dave is respectful towards you, always has been, before and after the first time you’d hooked up. You chalk it up to him needing a different kind of release than he can get with his wife, the mother of his children. He needs a break from reality. From white-picket fences and playdates and fortunately for you, that’s where you came in. Call it ‘Daddy Issues’, call it whatever you want, but when Dave got a little mean with you or called you names or got rough with you, well, you’re honestly worried you’ll never again feel the sexual satisfaction that you get from this man. Nobody else could possibly measure up.

“I know you will baby” he smirks at you. “Now come on, you know what I want” he says and then taps a button on the keyboard again as he clears his throat and begins speaking to his colleagues again.

It should be scientifically studied how Dave droning on about quarterly budgets and fiscal year-ends can get your pussy absolutely dripping for him.

You do know what he wants and when his hand leaves the apex of your thighs you reach into the desk drawer beside you and pluck a foil packet out of the small wooden box he keeps nestled inside his desk (using protection is another one of Dave's rules so there's always a stash nearby in his office). Once you’ve torn it open and carefully rolled the condom down his thick shaft you lift yourself up just enough to hover over it before you sink down and are fully seated in his lap, buried to the hilt. Your arms instinctively wrap around his neck and you lean your head down to rest on his shoulder but otherwise you don’t move. Dave doesn’t want to fuck you. At least, not right now. He wants you to be his good girl and keep his cock warm for him until his call is over and then he’ll decide what he wants to do with you. You hope the call isn’t a long one but sometimes in the past you haven’t been so lucky. Sometimes you sit here for five minutes, sometimes for thirty. Either way, you’ll be good while you do it and not move, otherwise Dave will become upset and punish you. And unfortunately punishment for you means he gets to come and you don’t, so you’re very careful now not to be punished. That lesson has been learned.

The meeting continues and after a few minutes Dave grows bored of his colleagues. You see it on his face and how his head falls back against the chair. Though you’ve barely been paying attention, even you know that they’ve just been talking in circles for the last five minutes.

“All right enough, let’s move on I don’t have all day” Dave suddenly barks at his computer and you hear several “yes sir”’s and “sorry sir”’s and flipping of papers as they switch topics to the next article on their agenda. Dave is still annoyed and bored and you know this because he snakes an arm between your bodies and his fingers are suddenly between your legs again where the two of you are joined. You lift your head from his shoulder again and pull back just enough so you can look him in the eyes as his fingers slowly begin to press at your clit. You pull your bottom lip through your teeth and your brow furrows slightly as he gently teases you and this… this is new. He doesn’t normally play with you when you’re meant to just be sitting still for him and honestly it terrifies you a little bit, knowing you can’t make a sound.

He’s still off mute as he occasionally responds to his colleagues and seemingly ignores the desperate plea your eyes are giving him as he rubs torturously slow circles around your little bundle of nerves. God he’s going to make you cum and you’re not allowed to utter a sound. A sly grin pulls at his lips and you know he’s enjoying this. Watching you squirm in his lap, desperate to please him as you focus every ounce of your concentration on not moaning out loud but Dave knows your body so well by now, like he’s fine tuning an instrument he’s had for years. You bury your face in his neck as your hands cling around the back of his head and the hand not between your legs comes up behind you, rubbing comforting circles across the span of your lower back. If it weren’t for the fingers at your clit and the cock buried inside you you’d feel like a small child being soothed and you might as well be because despite your best efforts, tears well at the corners of your eyes that you know Dave can feel drop hot against his skin. He’s making you feel so fucking good, but not good enough that it’ll get you to come and he knows that. He’s left you teetering on that edge as he plays with your clit with practiced precision and you need to come so badly you’re literally reduced to tears, the tight coil in your abdomen desperate to snap but can’t quite get there. He’s toying with you, and he loves it.

Your mouth mimes a desperate ‘please’ when you pull back again to look him in the eyes, hoping he’ll take pity on you. You must look a mess, tear-stained cheeks and he has to be able to feel the way your thighs are literally trembling. The smug grin hasn’t left his lips and for a moment you think he’s going to continue to torture you, but to your elated surprise he leans a bit forward to speak into his computer.

“All right everyone I think we’ve accomplished enough for one day, let’s pick this up on Monday, yeah? Have a good weekend everyone”

He doesn’t bother to wait for any of his colleagues to reply, just slams his laptop shut and shoves it aside with a sweep of his arm and you yelp out in surprise when he suddenly hoists you up and off of his cock, placing you down on your back on his desk. You whimper at the loss of him inside you but don’t have another second to complain before he shoves his chair back as he gets out of it and kneels to the ground in front of you.

“Oh fuck” you whimper, lifting your head up as far as you’re able to and reaching a hand out to place on his head.

“You were such a good girl for me, weren’t you baby?” he grins up at you from between your spread legs and you desperately nod your head in agreement. Honestly, you were proud of yourself.

“Good girls get rewarded, isn’t that right sweetheart?” he asks and you nod again.

Dave pauses for a moment and then his gaze lifts upwards to the ceiling. “Frozen?” he asks, knowing that his children are essentially mindless drones when their favourite movie is playing on tv and won’t come looking for you.

“Yes” you breathe out, your voice shaking. God, you need him so badly.

“Good” he grins again. “Want to hear you baby” is all he says before he dives in head first, literally, his mouth and tongue going straight to your core.

He begins greedily lapping at you, tongue pushing through your folds before he brings it up a little higher and swirls the muscle around your sensitive bundle of nerves. Your hips cant off the desk without your permission and you hear him chuckle before he places a strong arm across your waist.

“Easy baby, let me take care of you”

And take care of you he does. He takes his free hand and inserts one thick finger inside your wet heat, beginning a steady pace of fucking you with his single digit before his mouth closes around you again, sucking your clit into his mouth and a loud moan followed by a string of curses leaves your lips, your hands clutching into the short stands of hair at his head. Your orgasm floods over you within seconds, already being so close from the earlier teasing and Dave moans into your cunt when he feels your walls pulsing around his finger.

“Fuck,” he groans into you, apparently pleased with you and himself. His finger continues working inside of you, at a slower pace thankfully and his arm around your waist leaves you and disappears behind the desk where you can’t see it but you know where that hand is going and you let out a little whimper, causing Dave to chuckle against you.

“What is it sweetheart? Tell me”

“Want your cock” you whine. “Please” you add, because Dave likes it when you have manners.

He presses a single kiss to your oversensitive centre before he finally pulls back and gets up from the floor, settling back into his chair and looking at you expectantly.

“Well go on then” he nods towards his aching length that now rests against his clothed belly, the condom long discarded. You assume he took it off not long after he pulled you from his lap so he could jerk himself off with his free hand while he ate you out.

You quickly scramble off of the desk and onto your knees, greedily taking him into your hand and mouth, not needing to be asked twice. Your hand wraps around the base while your mouth envelops the rest of him, taking him as far down your throat as your gag reflex allows.

“Eager today” Dave chuckles from above you before a small groan escapes his lips when your tongue comes up to press into his already leaking slit.

“Fuck, the mouth on you…” he tuts, hand coming around to gather your hair so he can hold it back from your face and get a better view of how you take him down your throat. You continue to suck and lick and swallow him down, your hand moving in tandem with your mouth to ensure you reach all of him and he groans, head falling back against the headrest of his chair. The hand not holding your hair back presses down on the top of your head, forcing you further down his cock. He likes to hear you choke and gag on him, likes to see the spit and saliva and drool run down your chin and hear those debauched noises that leave your throat when you take him so deeply. Tears pick at the corners of your eyelids as the head of his cock knocks against the back of your throat and he forcefully pulls your head back, tilting it so your gaze finds his and you see the satisfaction stretch across his lips as he watches the fat tears hit your cheeks.

“Good girl. Good fucking girl” he practically growls at you before yanking you off of him. You gasp for breath once he’s pulled you from his throbbing member, your hands coming up to rest on his knees to steady yourself as you catch your breath. You know you had him close to that edge so the fact that he’s pulled you off of him has you instantly flooded with arousal again, knowing that today he wants to finish inside of you rather than in your mouth.

“C’mere” he grunts, grabbing you by the arm and hauling you up to your feet as he also stands from his chair. The moment you're both up he pulls you forward and his lips crash against yours, shoving his tongue inside of your mouth to hungrily taste you. You can’t help the little whimper that escapes you when you taste yourself on his tongue and his lips curl into a smile at that.

He pulls back after a few seconds and begins to kiss and nip along your jaw and upwards until his lips and breath are hot against your ear.

“Turn around for me sweetheart, bend over”

You follow his request immediately, turning in his arms and bending over the desk until your top half is fully resting on the smooth, hard cherry wood surface and your feet are planted firmly on the ground. Dave’s dark brown leather shoe comes between both of your feet and he hastily kicks them further apart, spreading your legs wide for him and your breath catches in your throat for a second before you let out a little giggle at how eager he is to have you. His hands go to your hips and he angles you just right so when he steps forward his cock slides right between your folds and you let out a low moan at the friction it causes. He lets you feel him bare for a few more passes through your folds as his right hand leaves your hip to begin rustling around in the top desk drawer again. You have to bite back the words that are on your tongue, ‘don’t use one, just take me’ because you figure if he wanted to fuck you raw he would have by now. Dave is always careful and for the most part, always in control of himself but sometimes you wish he’d just let go and be reckless with you. It’s not really even that reckless, you argue with yourself. You’re on birth control and Dave knows this because he’s seen the little square patch you wear on your hip for three weeks of the month. He’d asked what it was as his fingers delicately traced the shape and you’d told him. A simple “hmm” was all you got from in response. And aside from that, Dave was the only person you were currently sexually active with and you’re pretty sure Dave knew that as well. There was so much Dave seemed to know about you. It would probably be almost unsettling if you really stopped to think about it so you just didn’t. You were happy to stay in your little bubble of blissed ignorance, so long as it meant Dave would continue to show you the attention you craved from him.

You turn your head back just in time to see him ripping the package with his teeth and then his hips pull back from you just enough so that he can roll the condom on before he’s back, pressing forward and teasing at your entrance again.

“Ready baby?” he asks.

“Mmm hmm” you nod weakly, desperate to feel him inside you finally. “Please”

With that final uttered syllable Dave thrusts forward, entering you in one swift motion and burying himself to the hilt with a single rough snap of his hips and all the breath gets knocked out of your lungs as your upper body is shoved slightly further up the desk. He stills for a moment once he’s fully seated inside you and lets you adjust to him, his left hand rubbing soothingly back and forth on your hip.

“That’s it, take my cock so good sweetheart, fuck” he groans, tossing his head back and now you’re not sure if he’s stopped moving for your sake or for his own. “God damn, love this tight fucking pussy” he practically growls before he rolls his hips back before snapping forward again. He sets a hard, rough pace from there, stealing the breath from your lungs with each snap of his hips and the guttural noises that leave your throat each time he hits that spot deep inside of you sound downright sinful as they bounce off the four walls of the small office.

Not quite as sinful, however, as the smack that reverberates in the room when Dave’s hand lands a sharp blow to your right ass cheek as he continues to pound into you from behind.

“Ah!” you cry out, sounding positively wrecked, because you are. “Fuck, oh my god, ohmygod”. You’re reduced to a whimpering, whining mess within minutes as Dave bucks into you with reckless abandon. His fingers dig so deeply into your hips you know for fact they’ll leave bruises. You manage to turn your head slightly back to look at him, and what a glorious sight he is. Neck veins prominently on display as he tilts his head slightly back but still manages to keep his hard gaze on you. His teeth are bared and there’s beads of sweat at his forehead from his exertion and it’s enough to send you catapulting over that edge. You come long and hard with a wrecked sob leaving your throat as your walls pulse and contract around him.

“Oh fuck, fuck, fuck” you cry out, hands stretched above your head to hold onto the edge of the desk for dear life as your orgasm crashes over you.

“Shit baby… shit” Dave curses and you know your orgasm nearly brought his own on as well. Another low growl escape his lips before he’s hauling you up by your arms. “C’mere”

Your limbs might as well be made of Jello after how hard you just came so fortunately for Dave you’re very pliant in his arms as he all but manhandles you around. He pulls out of you and turns you around before he hauls you up and off the desk. He backs up just enough to sit back down in his chair and pulls you down on top of him, situating you just right so you’re sat right back on his cock the same way you were earlier and you cry out again once he has you speared on his dick.

“Ride me baby, bounce up and down on this dick, come on” he urges you on, sounding wrecked himself and it’s enough to give you the gust of energy you need to comply. Your hands go to his shoulders to hold on and his go to your hips to help you raise them just slightly before he slams you back down into his lap and then repeats the motion, over and over.

“That’s it, oh fuck” he seethes through gritted teeth. “Such a good girl for me, oh ride that cock baby come on” he encourages and your eyes roll back in your head at how deep he hits inside you. You think you actually feel a third orgasm coming on and Dave must sense it in you too because the next thing you know his thumb is at your clit, rubbing frantic circles as he begs and pleads with you to give him ‘just one more’. And you do just that. With a cry of his name leaving your lips you come a third time, hands clutching desperately at his shoulders as he fucks you through it and then his arms wrap tight around your lower back and he presses you firmer into his lap as he pushes a few final deep thrusts into you until he finally stills, a shuddering moan released from the back of his throat as he spills inside the condom.

You stay just like that for long moments afterwards. Dave’s arms wrapped tightly around you and yours around his neck, your face buried in his shoulder and his nuzzling into the side of your face. Dave isn’t exactly a cuddler. At least not with you or in your experience with him yet. Typically when your done he slides out of you and likes to get the condom off and get himself cleaned up immediately, dismissing you to get back to whatever you were doing but today he seems content to just hold you and you’ll greedily take every second of it until he regretfully pulls away from you like you know he has to.

You're so blissed out in your post-orgasmic state that you almost don’t even hear it when he murmurs the words against your ear.

“Come away with me”

Confusion laces your tone as you push back from him just enough to search his eyes for answers “What?”

“I want you to come away with me” he repeats, clearer this time but you still don’t understand exactly what he means. He sighs and raises a hand to gently push your hair back behind your ear before his hand lands softly on your cheek. “For a weekend. Let’s get away. I’ll say I have a work trip or something and we can just… be together. No interruptions, no… fucking Olaf the snowman singing in the background while I’m trying to fuck your brains out” he adds teasingly and you can’t help the full belly laugh that escapes you.

“Do you mean it?” You ask after a moment. You want to believe it. A whole weekend with Dave sounds like fucking heaven, but you don’t want to get your hopes up if he’s just talking madness because he just blew his load and isn’t thinking straight.

Dave shrugs. “I’ve been thinking about it for a while” he remarks casually, thumb softly stroking back and forth at your cheek. “What do you say?”

“I say yes, of course!” You practically squeal, surging forward and stealing a kiss from his waiting lips. You kiss for long moments. It’s not a frenzied kiss like you usually share but it’s still heated and before long you’re forced to pull away when Dave’s cock twitches from where it’s still buried inside of you. You unfortunately both know you don’t have time for another round and so you regretfully pull apart, Dave gently lifting your hips to pull you off of him. He takes the condom off, tying it off at the end and tossing it into the small trash can under his desk before he carefully stuffs himself back into his underwear and rights his clothes. You gather your own clothes and quickly dress until you’re presentable again and then wander back over to where Dave has sat back down in his chair, undoubtedly going back to work for a couple more hours.

“Thank you” you whisper before you lean down and plant a kiss to his waiting lips.

“I’ll text you. About our… plans” he says and you smile warmly at him.

“Looking forward to it” you remark as you slip out of his office and back upstairs to check on the girls.

True to his word Dave texts you a week or so later, giving you very vague details on your trip. It’s just dates he’s told you to blackout, a friday through sunday at the end of the month and that he’ll pick you up at your place Friday at 3pm. No other details, not where you’re going, what you need to bring or pack or what type of clothing you’ll need. You assume you won’t be going far, a local hotel is most likely, but you’d at least like to know if you’ll be going anywhere nice for dinner, what kind of wardrobe you need to bring.

“What should I bring?” You settle on asking him when you reply to his text and a stupid grin forms at your lips from his simple reply.

“Just a toothbrush baby, won’t be needing anything else for what I’ve got planned for us 😈”

taglist: @janaispunk @nerdieforpedro @anotherpedrolover @survivingandenduring @vabeachazn @axshadows @suzdin @yorksgirl @lincolndjarin @pedroshotwifey

thanks to @saradika-graphics for the page dividers!

I might turn this into a little series? But it would literally just be PWP lol. Not much storyline. Just for when I need to get the Dave York brain rot out lol. So if you wanna see more of these two (or see their little getaway) just lmk!

[tessasturns]

what are the chances. (pt.2)

fem!reader x brothers bsf!matt

a/n: ahhh tysm for the support on part one of this series, don't b shy y'all send in some requests:)) y'all don't care but i have tryouts for vb in a week and my jump floats SUCK. please help.

warnings: suggestive content, swearing, underage drinking, mentions of alcohol, text messages, not proofread !!

(masterlist) (pt.1) (pt.3)

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your eyes fluttered open as you stirred awake. you felt something on your chest, only to look down and see it was matt. you forgot he wouldn't shut up untilhe slept like this. you attempt to grab your phone without waking him, but he groans as he wakes up. "y/n? what are you- why am i laying here?" he babbles, obviously not having any memories from last night. "do you not remember?" you ask, and he shakes his head. "you had wayyy too much to drink and would not go to sleep unless it was here with me, and your brother didn't want you to throw up on him so i was kinda forced to." he slightly chuckles at his ignorance from last night. "oh shit...sorry 'bout that. i guess that explains my pounding headache" he mumbles.

"guys wake up!" nick says, unzipping your tent to see you and matt basically cuddling. "what-whats going on here?" he says, hiding a grin. "nothing nick, shut the fuck up" matt responds, getting off your chest. "sure...anyways, hurry and get ready hornballs" he says, walking away. you purse your lips into a smile as you and matt get up and out of the tent. everyones eyes are on you as walk out.

"me, nathan, and chris are going fishing, you wanna join?" jimmy says to matt. "uhh no thanks, i'll stay here with y/n, celeste, and nick" he says. your mom and marylou had already left for a walk so that just left you, celeste, nick, and matt.

you all sit in a bigger tent, no one saying anything, just sitting on their phones. "ugh i'm bored" nick groans as he tosses his phone to the side. his eyes slightly light up as a smug grin plays at his face. "hey y/n, why were you and matt literally cuddling when i came to wake you guys up?" after he says those words, my eyes shoot to matts. we share a look as i stutter to try and explain myself. "well, you see" i sigh as i begin. "matt just was really tired and i was asleep and i gues we just woke up like that, i don't really know" nick looks at me with a confused look. "sure, if you say so" he says as we go back to our phones.

the day basically passes us by as we find ourselves sitting around the campfire once again. we're all just talking and cracking jokes around a campfire, and it truly is just a night you won't forget. it's the same routine as last night; the parents go to sleep, which just leaves us. celeste is to my right as she sends me a text. i open the text, sighing as she's right next to me.

| celestey👅

yo i got an idea, distract the boys

we're getting fucking wasted tonight.

my heart races as i read that message. i don't question how shes gonna do it, i just simply try to talk to the boys. they're already talking about some old memories so it won't be hard to distract them any further. it's not too late yet, but i try to stall for as long as possible befroe they decide to go to sleep. from the corner of my eye, i see celeste grab about six drinks from the cooler beside her, now it makes sense why she wanted to sit here with me. she hides them in her shirt and gets up.

"my stomach's lowkey hurting," she looks at me dead in the eyes like she's waiting for me to say something. "hey y/n don't you have tylenol in your purse?" she asks you that, knowing you don't. you knew what she was up to so you decided to play along. "oh...oh yeah i do! it's in the tent, give us a second" i say, walking to the tent with celeste. we giggle as we hide in there and zip the door shut. "drink up hoe" she says, handing me three white claws. "woah, celeste c'mon" i chuckle, quietly opening the drink and taking some small sips. celeste however, is almost on her third. "bitch chug!" she giggles as i shotgun the rest of the drinks. we finish the last ones and hide the cans underneath a bag to my right.

we stumble out of the tent, the alcohol starting to take a small toll on us. "celeste, feelin' better?" chris asks as we sit back down. "yeah no i'm good" she says. "imma sleep, we're goin' on a hike tomorrow i need some rest" nate says as he walks over to the tent. the boys have started to settle down, but now it's just you and celeste incoherently babbling about nothing in particular.

"heyyy matt" you say, breaking the silence. "can you pleaseee let me have a white claw?" you batt your lashes innocently. "i- y/n, you know i'm not supposed to let you do that" he says with a sympathetic look. "pleaseee" you drag the word out in some hope he would agree. chris and nick both look at matt, hoping how would make the right decision. "sorry y/n but no" he sighs. "ugh fineee" you whine.

you and celeste, in your now drunken state, were just getting up and dancing for no apparent reason. matt loved the way you moved your body, it just made his situation in his pants much worse. once you were sat back down, he mumbled in your ear, "you have no clue what you're doin' to me doll." a smirk toys at your face. nick, celeste, nate, and chris have already went to their own tents, leaving you and matt by the campfire.

you and celeste had secretly shared two more beers before going to sleep, the alcohol hitting your body like a ton of bricks. matt had enough of the teasing, and he pulled you into the tent. although no one was outside, he still wanted some privacy. the two of you sit in the tent, not really doing anything.

"mattt" you whine. "yes doll?" he responds. you're too lazy and drunk to acknowledge the pet name, you just roll with it. "has anyone told you you're pretty? like sooo pretty?" you say, laying your head on his chest. "ah thank you y/n" he responds.

he pulls your lips into a hungry and passionate kiss, both of you moving into it. the tent is filled with the sound of lips smacking and bodies moving, but matt’s phone dings as he checks it.

| chris

omg you and y/n better stfu rn bitch im trying to sleep

you and matt both giggle as he apologizes through text. the two of you sit in a comforting silence as you slowly drift off to sleep, matt playing with your hair.

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to be continued...

tags: @lolastrniolo

a/n: guysss there will be more parts but pls be patient with me, im going to toronto this week for the eras tour !!! i will be less active and i do apologize for that:(( please don't be a silent reader! comment to be apart of the taglist:)