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lalunanymph · 4 months ago

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𝐄𝐏𝐈𝐒𝐎𝐃𝐄 𝟏: 𝐘𝐎𝐔𝐑 𝐖𝐎𝐑𝐓𝐇

after a scandal that rocks the entire nation, itadori 'ryomen' sukuna is forced to marry a girl chosen by his brother in order to straighten him out. but, what jin doesn't expect is how much he's willing to destroy everything he knows just to get his freedom back—even at the expense of breaking his wife's soul.

warnings: misogyny, talks of ageism, unrequited love, dubious cheating, gaslighting, mentions of a/nal, e/xplicit smut, mentions of w/eed, mentions of a/lcohol, substance a/buse, toxic family dynamics, class differences, sukuna is anti-noveau riche, sukuna is a walking red flag, jin itadori supremacy, hiromi and nanami duke it out in court, exposition, mentions of a m/urder, negligence, court cases, MDNI

masterlist | playlist

Treading the world of marriage as a woman past her prime in a judgemental upper class society was a dance that left you exhausted and skittish; wishing you could put an end to its haunting melody.

As you were ticking fast past the rotten age of twenty-seven, your family’s empire hung by a thread as nervous investors and stakeholders started to ask the golden question: When will your only daughter get married, Jiro?

Suitors knocked on your door, only to be turned away by your snobbish mother and your equally weak-kneed father who tried to appease her. None of them good enough for you; handsome enough for you or rich enough to grow your family’s vaults.

That was until Itadori Jin reached out to your family with an offer your father could not refuse.

His older twin brother, Itadori Sukuna, has just been released from an investigation and needed a bride to save the family name.

They wanted to paint him in a good light to the press: partying bad boy turned a charming, married man who was now working towards building a family with another girl of his standing.

And, that was when you came into the picture.

The first time you saw Itadori “Ryomen” Sukuna was a moment you would never forget.

The tattoos swirling around his face should’ve given you pause; made you backtrack on the idea of marriage to the Itadori house the second it left your father’s lips—especially when it came to a man like him.

In his neatly pressed white button-down which strained over his (admittedly) impressive pecs, and pair of expensive Bottega slacks, he would’ve been the picture of sophisticated upper class if it weren’t for the tribal lines on his face and arms—the sight almost making you high tail it out of the cafe you were both seated in.

It was the first time you were meeting him without your parents to chaperone. Bodyguards stood by the doors, stationed close by in case the press got too nosy.

With this being the first time you were talking to him without your mother lingering in the background, you were free to eye him up and down, unsure of what to make of the disdain setting his mouth into a hard line.

He was different from the men you had encountered before. Tall in an imposing way and with his shock of pink hair, you could spot him from a mile away in the middle of a crowded room. Sukuna carried himself with an air of princely cruelty, often staring down the line of his nose; astride the white stead of his borned privilege and high position in society.

But, the one thing that stood out were his eyes.

The warmest brown dissolved into a shade of vermillion which shone blood-red under different lights.

You couldn’t quite keep your eyes off them or stare at them for too long, and you sensed rather than knew how much he enjoyed your discomfort.

He swivels his coffee, spilling some down the pristine white cup. Somewhere behind him, a guard stifles a yawn.

“So… what do you like to do for fun?”

You sit up straighter, practiced to perfection with your reply. “I love watching horse races, Itadori-san. On some days, I prefer pottery and painting. I’ve always wanted to open my own art gallery.”

He glances at his nails, looking almost bored. “And why didn’t you open your own gallery?”

It’s a cordial question at best, but you bristle as if he had just mocked your interests.

“I… don’t have the time,” you mutter meekly.

He looks up at you, and you think he might finally unleash the scathing remark he’s been holding back for the last few minutes.

“What does a prissy girl like you know about not having time? I thought you thrived on wasting your life away with hot pilates classes and private-jetting to islands?”

You bite back your fuming reply, masking your discomfort with a bright smile. “Itadori-san, you judge me so harshly. I only attend one hot pilates class per week.”

What you hoped was a light-hearted reply dissolves into a sour note when he sighs and sits back, pinching the bridge of his nose.

“Look, sweetheart. I know this can’t be easy on you, too, but you don’t know what’s at stake here.” Sukuna leans forward, invading your space with the spicy sweetness of his cologne. “I have a reputation to change and you have daddy’s money to keep. We’re both each other’s salvation from the shit our family put us through so I need you to work with me here.”

You frown, unsure of what he was trying to get at. “But, I am trying to work with you. I’m here on this date, aren’t I?”

“You gotta look decent,” he doesn’t beat around the bush. Gesturing to your modest midi floral dress and neutral beige Mary Janes, the look of disgust on his face breaks something in your chest. “You’re dressed like a goddamn Mormon college girl. For someone very rich, you sure don’t have taste.”

Offended, you stared at him, unable to fathom what he had just said—how he had just insulted you unprompted and in broad daylight.

But, Sukuna doesn't give you time to revel in his words. He grabs a cigarette from his pocket, ignores your wrinkling nose as he smokes openly in this establishment. The waiters don’t dare to cross him, pretending the smell of tobacco doesn’t faze them.

You, however, were finding it harder to mask your disgust. For the sake of your mother’s excitement at finding you a suitable match, you tried to tame down the anger frothing in your veins, slapping on a sweet, yet sardonic smile.

“And what is your definition of ‘taste’, Itadori-san?”

He peers at you over the veil of smoke, taking his time to piece together his reply. “Plunging necklines. Satin. Bows. Thinner heels. I need a mature woman by my side, not some plain old maid playing dress up as a prepubescent girl.”

His words stung, and you leaned back, suddenly feeling too small. The cafe lights felt like a pair of microscopic lenses studying your every move, highlighting your discomfort and sudden unease. Your skin flashed hot and cold, the anger cresting and ebbing. Whenever you were upset, you didn’t lash out or cry, preferring to fall silent until the storm passed.

Despite a tiny voice in the back of your mind telling you it would be useless to try, you attempted another shot at winning his validation; hoping Sukuna would bestow it unto you readily and without mockery.

“Then, why don’t you come and shop with me? I’m sure a man of your taste would help my image.”

He stares at you for a long moment, unblinking. You’re reminded of a snake—its tongue scenting the air to determine whether to strike, unlidded eyes locking onto its target.

Sukuna thaws, tapping off the excess ash onto the floor. You try not to cringe at how the poor waiters would have to sweep all of that up once he had left.

“Fine. I’ll help,” he says like it's the biggest feat in his life to perform. “But, on one condition.”

Eager, you nod, not wanting to turn him off or jeopardize a moment with such a handsome man who wouldn’t look twice at you if it weren’t for your last name.

“We push the wedding back by a month.”

Flashback: One week ago

Tensions were running high in the courtroom.

Rows of judges and the impassive jury hollows out in shades of gray, fading into the white buzz of his mind as Sukuna glances at his brother’s ashen face. Outside, the hungry press waits, sharks roaming in deathly waters waiting for the first drop of blood.

Itadori Jin clenches his pen in his white-knuckled grip. Their defense attorney, Hiromi Higuruma leans close to him, whispering something under his breath.

Sukuna can’t hear him from his vantage point on the testimonial seat, but he can venture a guess when his younger twin nods, pushing his glasses up the sweaty bridge of his nose.

“Higuruma-san, please take the floor,” the judge intones, allowing for their docketed defense to play out.

The ruthless, cold lawyer clears his throat, and stands.

He turns to face the jury, those soulless eyes sparking with a passion Sukuna has never seen before in all his twenty eight years of knowing the old lawyer.

“Your honor—Judge Itachi. Ladies and gentlemen of the jury. How many of us have often mistaken goodwill for evil? We don’t bite the hand that feeds us and yet, we have every right to question when something isn’t as sanctimonious as it seems.” He turns his dark gaze to the rows of people.

“Itadori Sukuna has devoted half of his life to the bolstering of young athletes. Football is one of his biggest passions and he often pays meticulous attention to the facilities that nurture the talent of our future sportsmen. The sole person to be blamed for the murder of young Masamichi Ryota isn’t the man sitting on that podium—it’s to be found in the coach who pushed him beyond his capabilities and forced him to play even with a ruptured spleen—”

“Objection, your honor.” Nanami Kento, an unctuous piece of shit in a neatly-pressed suit who thrives on taking cases pro-bono to bolster his spotless reputation, stands. He adjusts his tie, looking at the plaintiff’s family—the coach’s great mustache trembling as he holds back his anger.

“The post-mortem report submitted shows that Coach Tanaka has explicitly asked for a leave of rest for the star player. But, the rejection letter—traced from Itadori Sukuna’s hand, I might add—explicitly denied that request on grounds of the millions of yen he has betted on that poor boy’s success.”

The crowd moves, a great sea snake whispering, scales rustling. Unsure of whether to attack or stand down.

“Your Honor, that is a stretch,” Hiromi drones. “The young man was known to have a history of smoking and a regrettable habit of shooting ecstasy. A fact, we found out later on, that was unearthed in the same autopsy reports you had just shared, Nanami-san.”

This time, the two attorneys stare each other down.

Sukuna fights back a smirk at the blonde man’s narrowed eyes. Beside him, Tanaka, the coach, hangs his head.

“While his death is very regrettable and a horror to his family and loved ones, Masamichi was not known for reigning in his… impulses. He has a weak will and a fondness for abusing substances.”

“Objection,” Nanami raised his voice. “Defaming the deceased’s name is a violation of—”

“Order, order,” Judge Itachi bangs his gavel, shaking his jowls as he glares down from the stand. The room quietens. Nanami takes a deep breath while Hiromi glances at his watch.

“Nanami-san, the Defamation Act 2013 does not apply to this situation as Masamichi is not a minor. A lawyer of your caliber should know this.” Nodding towards Higuruma, he says, “Continue.”

This time, Sukuna can’t help the chuckle slipping from his mouth.

Hearing him, Jin shakes his head with a glare, hazel eyes drilling Now’s not the time, asshole deep into his skull.

Higuruma, having heard his slip, also narrows his eyes.

Nanami uses this moment to pounce on Sukuna’s perceived indifference.

“He openly mocks the death of one of Japan’s brightest football stars, and yet, we’re supposed to believe in his goodwill? If you were to speak of my client’s dead prodigy, you should take into account what kind of man Itadori Sukuna truly is.”

Commanding the floor, the sharply-dressed blonde man takes center stage.

“Ladies and gentlemen. Judge and jury. Itadori Sukuna hails from an affluent family, but do not let that distract you from how he uses his position in society to silence those lower than him.” Looking straight into Sukuna’s eye with that infuriating, righteous stare these bootlickers always had, Kento seethes.

“He is a drug-addled playboy who spends his time exploiting young talent for his own gain. These young men under his program are little more than betting fodder for him and his other rich friends. Wouldn’t you say that is correct? How many times have we seen him in the news because of his drunk folly? If he were an actor, we would’ve banned him from screens, and yet, because of his standing in society, we commend him for exploiting our sporting talents—and ultimately, playing in the negligence to cause someone’s death.”

Higuruma bristles, not expecting his opponent to pull out his client’s reputation and smear it across the courtroom floors.

“You claim defamation is uncouth, and yet, you’re doing the same thing to my client, Nanami-san—”

“Order,” Judge Itachi bangs his gavel again, this time looking irritated at how this case had turned.

Sukuna suddenly catches sight of a woman from across the room. She’s glaring at him with unabashed hatred, her dark eyes swollen and red-rimmed, lower lip wobbling. Beside her, the man he assumes is her husband wears a stony mask, his gaze locked on the floor, completely still except for the rapid rising and falling of his erratic breaths.

They were both clad in a dress, shirt and slacks that looked like they belonged to the 90s—neat and clean, but shabby in a way that only these lower class scum could pull off if the dress code given to them was business casual.

These must be Ryota’s good-for-nothing power hungry parents who threw him into the harsh pits of Japanese football in hopes of improving their standing in society. How plain and old they look. Sukuna fights back the urge to sneer at them, keeping his expression neutral.

It’s like Jin’s voice is in his ear: Do not misbehave. Do not give them more reason to already hate you. Remember—Jin’s infuriatingly kind eyes were unflinching and serious. They’ve just lost their son. Have some compassion and remorse.

“Attorneys, return to your seat. The jury has already made their decision and I, for one, can vouch for it.”

Sukuna feels his palms going clammy, and suddenly, the idea of investing in sports from Ino’s advice was making his stomach turn.

I’m going to kill that bastard once I’m out of here.

Removing the slip of paper from the white envelope of justice, Judge Itachi clears his throat.

Higuruma sits back down, his viper-like eyes locked on the judge’s face. Trying to predict the outcome.

“The court today has deemed the case Itadori v Japan’s Football League a negligence in duty of care concerning Masamichi Ryota’s untimely death.”

No one is breathing, all attention on the judge with his pockmarked face.

Sukuna is fixated on Jin, whose head is bowed, eyes closed. If this blew up in their faces, a case like this would cause Itadori Enterprises to suffer a major investor fallout.

And once again, the blame of their family’s bad fortune would be on him.

Sukuna swears the last time he was this nervous, he was waiting for Este’s pregnancy test results to come back negative.

It was one time, ‘Kuna! She had tears in her eyes, the stupid white stick clenched in her hand. Can you lay off of me and take responsibility for once in your goddamn life?

He should call her after this—apologize to her. God knows it would be his last fuck before he has to spend half of his life behind bars for the death of some schmuck kid whose name he had already forgotten.

Judge Itachi speaks again, knocking him out of his reverie.

“Therefore, the jury and I have come to the conclusion. In the case of Itadori Itadori-san, we find him—”

The clock ticks. Every lung is constricted—jury, attorneys, a few press members who had managed to bribe their way in. Sukuna recognizes them with their obnoxious yellow press tags; thinks how many of these leeches would get a raise once they broke the scoop on him.

Oh, the irony, he muses. His downfall being their salvation to fighting back against the rising cost of living.

“—not guilty.”

…

Sukuna is unsure if he’s heard it right.

Not guilty.

He doesn’t react immediately, blinking slowly like a fish caught out of water. The oldest son of Itadori Wasuke tries to meet his twin’s eye, but Jin is as shocked as he was, frozen with his laser-sharp focus trailed on the stand—trying to digest this turn of events.

Higuruma is the one who finally breaks the ice, standing and bowing to Judge Itachi. On cue, the rest of the room follows suit, getting to their feet and showing the retreating judge their begrudging respect.

Sukuna bows jerkily, unused to such a humble gesture he had almost forgotten how to do it.

In front of him, the brat’s mother starts to bawl, her husband’s arms coming to wrap around her as they both shuffle out of the courtroom, looking older and grayer than when they had entered.

Sukuna doesn’t have much time to force a lick of sympathy for them, not when this farce of a trial was over and he was late for Ino’s party.

He hops down the stand, ambling easily to his younger brother who was whispering in low tones with their lawyer. A few feet away, Nanami Kento reassures the coach and his family, painting a picture of trying to achieve righteous justice for that good name—a feat Sukuna knew he would never achieve.

After all, the Itadori empire wasn’t built on rainbows on sunshine but pure, hard grit. And a little bit of blood and here and there to get what they want.

Jin looks up, frowns. “Let’s catch the sedan and have a smoke. You and I have a lot to discuss about.”

The way he said it made Sukuna feel like a kid again, about to be chastised for peeing the bed or killing off the pet goldfish.

Higuruma packed up his briefcase of documents, and a pack of bodyguards stationed around the different points of the courtroom swarmed to the middle, shielding the two brothers and their lawyers the second the doors opened and the press descended on them.

Flashing lights went off in a wave of clicks, the vultures with their cameras snapping his humiliation at every angle for their publications; boldly throwing their questions at him without fear now that the great Itadori “Ryomen” Sukuna was knocked down a peg or two.

Itadori-san, can you comment about Masamichi-san’s death at length?

One woman with a silver bob shoved a mic in his face. The guard on his right quickly elbowed her out of the way, throwing his arm up to hide Sukuna’s visage from the bug-like chittering click of these press leeches and their expensive cameras.

Itadori-san, this news must come as a shock. What does this mean for the future of Itadori Enterprise?

Will this affect any future mergers, particularly a rumor circulating about a potential collaboration with Nara Corp?

Itadori-san, do you ever regret investing in football?

A few sport reporters were also seen trying to push their way through the crowd, recorders in hand to glean some golden nuggets for their pathetic column.

Itadori-san, what does your verdict mean for the future of the Japan Football League?

Itadori-san, did you know that Masamichi-san was about to prepare for his university entrance exams? How does his death make you feel?

“No comment,” Higuruma intones, taking Jin and Sukuna both by the elbow to steer them towards their waiting car like they were teenagers again; back when he had to bring the twins straight into Wasuke’s study to discuss their future inheritance.

A fresh-faced rookie Sukuna had never seen before stumbles in front of their entourage, and he’s mortified to see a pink lipstick print on the front of the intern’s tag.

Royale News' first appearance in such a serious case.

“Itadori-san, you’re already approaching the ripe age of thirty," the dim-wit says. “Do you have your eye on a woman who can domesticate you? Can you ever be tamed?”

Amidst the overlapping voices and chaos, that question sticks to Sukuna like sweat on skin during an unbearable summer heat, unsettling him until he sinks into the sedan with Jin beside him and Higuruma on the opposite seat.

The door closes shut, bodyguards standing in front of the heavily tinted side windows to keep the press from clamoring after them.

Once the chaos was left behind on the freeway in a cloud of smoke and ashes, did Jin lean forward to raise the privacy screen. With the driver unable to hear them, his younger twin reaches for his packet of Montecristos, lighting three of them up and passing one to each man.

Higuruma accepts his offer with a nod, while Sukuna grabs the nicotine-laced vice from him with a ferocity that takes his brother aback. He inhales deeply, exhaling rings of smoke which fogs up the car, tasting cherries, cedarwood, tobacco and his freedom.

“Easy, ‘Kuna,” Jin mumbles tersely. Sukuna resists the urge to flip him off.

Instead, he drags his gaze to the lawyer smoking quietly in front of him, smiling sleazily in triumph. “You did a good job, Higuruma. If I were you, I’d ask for a raise.”

The Itadori scion expects his brother to join in the jest meekly, like he always does. Not glare at him with pure vitriol in his eyes, the kind Sukuna had never seen Jin harbor for him.

“You scumbag,” Jin mutters hotly. His brother half expects him to throw a curse word or two with how riled up he was. “You were supposed to dump this stupid hobby. I gave you the money to start a foundation for good press. Not throw it all into some useless human betting ring. Are you an imbecile?”

That was a new insult. Jin rarely ever threw him a good verbal uppercut, and Sukuna must’ve really fucked up to earn this side of his younger twin brother.

He plasters on a sleazy smile, giving his otouto a once over.

“Well, aren’t you a fucking ray of sunshine? You should be glad Higuruma managed to avert the crisis and get me out of it. Or, are you going to piss in these blessings?”

“I would rather you didn’t embroil yourself in such a shit show in the first place.”

Jin sighs, sags into the seat and massages his temple. “One day, Sukuna, you’re going to give me a heart attack and you’ll have to take over oto-san’s company. Then, you will know true responsibility. True suffering.”

Sukuna hums, staring outside at the scenery flying by.

“Neither the company nor its investors would last a day with me at the helm. So, for your sake and mine, I’m going to ask the doctor to keep the life support machine going even if you’re hanging onto your last breath, dear brother.”

“Good luck with that,” Jin refutes with a slight snarl. “I would explicitly mention it in my will to refute your efforts at reviving me.”

“Then, I will rebuke your will.”

“You can’t because I actually have a son to execute it.”

“Yuuji is two. He can’t even hold a pencil.”

Any insult towards his beloved son would never be tolerated by the famed Itadori family man. Jin puffs out his chest, about to berate his older brother, when Higuruma stops them both with a sigh.

“If only your parents could see the both of you now. How disappointed they would be in you, Sukuna.”

Hiromi sucks in a deep breath of the sweet cigar, turning his head and exhaling lightly out of politeness for smoking in his employer’s car.

Despite his hulking muscles and blase attitude, Sukuna can’t help but glower in petulance at any mention of Wasuke and Kasumi’s disappointment in him. Growing up as the black sheep has casted a permanent cloud over him—his best efforts were seen as second tier in comparison with his perfect, golden brother. And Sukuna resents any mention of it.

Their family lawyer continues on, as if he hadn’t made two of them heel to an uneasy stop.

“At your age, you should be taking over Jin’s part. But, your brother is too nice. He took up the burden so you could do what, exactly? Party every night? Sleep with models? Get involved in scandals?”

Hiromi sighs, and Sukuna turns his glare outside the window, unwilling to take such a personal beat down.

“Your mother had hoped you would snap out of your selfish streak. She even thought you would settle down and give her some grandchildren by the time you turned twenty five. But, you had to be pictured… fucking… the mayor’s daughter during a gala. How crude.”

“Stop talking down to me like you’re even at my level, Higuruma.” Sukuna snaps and something in his tone catches the other two men off guard. “You think just because we employ you in our good graces, you have the fucking right—”

“What Hiromi is trying to say is this,” Jin interjects before this could escalate into a full fist fight. “Both of us have come up with the best way for our family to get past this scandal.”

Sukuna has heard this a thousand times before. The Itadori pockets were bottomless when it came to preserving their good name.

“How?” He sneers, dismissive and mildly insulted that the two of them had made a decision for him without his input. “Don’t tell me you’re going to flush out more money to keep the press quiet. We can’t keep using the same strategy over and over again.”

In answer, Hiromi and Jin share a look. Sukuna suddenly feels like the car seat he’s on is about to be pulled from under him.

Wilted ash drips from the tip of his neglected cigar. He tenses, darts his vermillion eyes between his two conspirators and wardens.

“Hiromi and I have come up with a better idea,” Jin begins his pitches like he always does—with a little smile and a sniffle. “The idea is—”

“Marriage,” Hiromi intones, taking one brother aback and the other on a guilt trip.

Jin grimaces. Sukuna stumbles with the words stuttering out like a reckless oil spill.

So, the only thing he could spout was, “M-marriage?! What kind of trickery is this? Jin—” He looks to his otouto, hoping against hope his ears are just fucked up and he didn’t actually hear Hiromi saying the tragic, forbidden ‘M’ word.

“—this has to be a mistake.”

“No, it’s not,” Hiromi steps in to cover Jin’s ass, placing himself at the front to take the bullets of rage that would no doubt rain down on him once the whole plan was laid bare to the older, hot-headed twin.

“We believe that with your souring reputation and increasing questions surrounding your perpetual bachelorhood, settling down with someone would be in the interest of the family business. And of course, your inheritance.”

Hiromi makes sure to dangle the most effective carrot in front of him; that sadistic bastard.

Sukuna seethes—confusion, anger, disappointment and fear coalescing to overtake his first instinct to run. Numbing him with his inaction of thoughts and body.

Hiromi lifts his heavy-bagged eyes, pinning him right to the spot. The knife slices deeper, cutting him from the inside out; hammering in this decision he absolutely had no say in unless he would want to kiss his lavish lifestyle goodbye.

“We need to get you married off by the end of the year.” A death sentence knells right into his chest; Hiromi digs the pain deeper.

“In fact, the sooner, the better.”

Sukuna remembers the very first time he had seen you in your wedding dress.

It was a chance encounter as he passed by a Morinaga boutique in downtown Shibuya; his brother having orchestrated the entire meeting so Sukuna would catch a glance of his future bride trying on her custom-made dress.

With her head bowed, and shoulders bare under the light, the older Itadori twin thought her figure was appeasing and pleasing to the eyes. That is, until she turned around with her naked face and he had to physically stop himself from recoiling.

“Is that her?” he demands, unwilling to believe Jin would sell him out like this. Shades of disgust lines his tone, and he tries not to put his stupid twin in a headlock and break his neck.

Jin notices his reluctance and makes a face. “She’s unlike the girls you whore yourself out to, that’s for sure.”

The more he looks at you, the more Sukuna is starting to think this was a mistake.

“She’s so… boring. Vanilla. Are you sure this is what you think is best for me?”

Since their father passed on and the business went to his younger twin, Sukuna was often painted in their society and by the media as the irresponsible Itadori—the audacious older brother, the partier.

The playboy.

Often having a gaggle of girls at his mercy, he was not exempted from warming beautiful model’s beds, and having flings with other trust fund babes—bad habits his younger brother was desperately trying to get him to shrug off to take on more of the family business mantle.

“You’re almost thirty, ‘Kuna. It’s time to act like it.”

Jin sighs, removes his glasses. The action reminds him so much of their father that Sukuna pauses for a second, blinking away the mirage of that senile, old man.

Sukuna hadn’t noticed just how old his younger brother had gotten.

Dressed in a sleek trench coat costing four times more than a McDonald workers’ monthly salary, Itadori Jin was quiet and unassuming, yet only his twin brother knew that still waters ran the deepest.

An inch shorter than him and with a kid from his old, dead wife, Itadori Jin was the antithesis of Sukuna’s recklessness. Where the older twin was all hulking machismo and a massive ego, his brother was soft-spoken and with a sharp mind that was always one step ahead of his, bringing their father’s company back from the brink of bankruptcy and launching it into international waters from his sheer will.

Sukuna respects the guy, and as much as he wants to rile Jin up and pop a vein on his younger brother’s temple, he tempers down his sarcasm, preferring to roll his eyes.

“Whatever. So, her daddy wants the merger money and you want me to settle down with some ugly chick?”

Jin winces, wishing his brother wasn’t being this curt and lewd.

“Her father wants an heir. And he wants 40% of our shares. That’s a whole different game.”

“He can’t have those.” Sukuna was irresponsible as they came, but even he understood the basic math of divesting half of your company’s assets to a party other than your stipulated stakeholders. “The Nara family already holds 22% of our board and the Ikina’s are up close with 15%. If those vultures take 40, how’re we gonna break even in the next quarter? We’ll be bleeding red if we give into their whims.”

In answer, the corners of his brother’s mouth twitches. “I see you’ve been doing your homework. Impressive.”

They both have stopped in their tracks, standing a little ways on the sidewalk where prying ears couldn’t hear their discussion.

Jin suddenly turns serious. “L/N-san has struck gold with new fintech models. We need to curry his favor if he wants to reduce the patent price for us to move on with Project Armstrong. I hope you understand the gravity of this situation.”

Usually, Sukuna prefers not talking business with his brother in such broad daylight without a drink in hand. But, seeing as how Jin has left him no choice, he relents to this impromptu exchange, feeling more and more like some wild stock being sold in a farm the longer he speaks to his brother.

“And she’s nicknamed the Wisteria Woman because her entire family latches onto fame and power like leeches,” he bristles, catching Jin by surprise.

See? Even a useless ass like him could bother with basic research. And the rumors were nastier than he imagined.

“I already don’t like the sound of that—of her.”

The younger Itadori cocks his head. “Then, I think you should be honest with her if that is how you feel. That this is a business arrangement and nothing else.”

Sukuna flicks a cigarette from his leather coat’s pocket, sticking it between his teeth.

“Say I agree to this plan. What’s in it for me?”

Without a beat of hesitation, Jin replies:

“110% of the profit.”

Sukuna nearly spits out his stick.

The amount yawns before him, looming zeros and zeros staring him in the face.

“What? Cat got your tongue?” Jin teases, though there’s tension crinkling in the corner of his eyes.

Switching gears, Sukuna turns mellow; even slaps on a smile. “I see. Interesting.”

“So. Are you on board with this?”

In the distance, he sees your silhouette exiting the bridal shop, bags in hand with your maids or girlfriends following behind. The sunlight does little to bring any depth to your expression or features, but he appreciates that you look semi-decent from his vantage point.

“Fine,” he says, clicking open his vintage Dupont to light the tip of his cigarette. “Count me in.”

He supposes that even with such an embarrassing family background that will drag the Itadori name through the mud, the high stakes more than made up for such a lackluster wife.

His favorite whore sighs right into his shoulder, the smell of his cum, sweat and her expensive perfume strong on her skin.

After ejaculating right onto her tits and smearing it everywhere down her belly, Sukuna was exhausted and in a need for something stronger than nicotine. Rolling over, he picks up a joint Ino had passed to him as congratulations for making it out of that nasty as fuck trial, lighting it up and inhaling with a tremendous sigh.

Este’s lips are right on his shoulder, kissing a path from his deltoid to collarbone. Sukuna wraps a hand in her soft, brown hair, holding her firmly in place as he makes a move like he was about to kiss her; her lips parting and smoke pouring into her waiting mouth, her hitched inhale pulling a cruel smile across his own lips.

She turns her face away, eyes watering and fighting back a coughing fit. “Asshole.”

“An invitation for anal? Gladly, baby.” He turns her onto her belly, peals of laughter muffled by the pillow, strong arms holding her down as he positions her on her hands and knees, joint stuck in between his teeth.

Este turns her face to the side, catching his eye. Mascara smudges around her eyes, her red lipstick feathering at the corners of her impishly smiling mouth.

“What’re you doing, ‘Kuna?”

“Y’know what I’m doing,” he murmurs, cock stirring at her wiggling hips and devilish grin.

“Are you really going to take my ass?”

He sucks in another inhale of the joint, feeling the high slowly unlocking his muscles and turning his brain fuzzy. “Scared? Afraid daddy might find out his daughter is going around offering her virgin hole to any rich man who’s on the marriage market?”

Condescension drips in poisonous tendrils, and she bristles. “Fuck you, ‘Kuna.”

In one swift motion, he’s sheathed inside of her, feeling her walls choke down on his cock. His head tosses back, sweat glistening off the tribal tattoos on his chest, hips drawing back and snapping forward in languid thrusts.

The moon shines strong. Cheap Southern alcohol pumps in his blood, his sweat soaks through her skin and hair, damp skin illuminated by the ember tip of his joint.

“Isn’t that what I’m already doing to you?” He drawls, and her body starts to shake.

“We still—mhm—h-haven’t talked about your m-marriage…”

Her voice fades; cracks on the reality of him no longer sharing a bed with her.

Jesus. Does everyone know about this?

Sukuna doesn’t do anything to comfort her, except for slipping a hand between her legs to rub soft circles on her clit as a flimsy apology.

She keens, white-knuckled grip fisting the soft blankets. Her mediterranean mix shows under the weak light, tan skin stretching over defined back muscles, dark roots growing past the brown dye job she gets done once every two weeks.

In another life, Sukuna thinks he could’ve been in love with her.

Este screams his name as she shatters around him. Sukuna tosses the half-smoked joint back on the side table, not caring if it would catch on something and burn her room down. He’d just fuck her through the flames until she asphyxiates and succumbs to both the lack of oxygen and her orgasm.

She clings onto him, a second layer of skin he wants nothing to do with.

Sukuna pushes her away not so gently, grabbing his joint and snuffing it out with the heel of his palm.

“I gotta go,” he mumbles, reaching for his shirt, pants. She watches as he dresses, still dazed and starry-eyed from her release.

“Are you going back to her? To Y/N?”

Sukuna crinkles his nose, as if the mention of your name was enough to make him lose his appetite. “Don’t be stupid. No. I’m going back to my place for a shower and a nightcap. I’ll see you around.”

Tossing her a nonchalant wave, Sukuna leaves Este’s sheets, knowing that in a few more days, he would be back here again.

That’s the thing he likes about Este Nara—she’s easy. Not just to get in bed, but to get away from. She doesn’t bitch or moan about him being distant and aloof. She takes his cruelty without much flinching, seeing the dangerous man lurking under his tattoos and barely thinking anything of it.

If she even had half a brain to think.

He revs the engine of his Ducati Superleggera, hightails it past her condominium with his helmet buckled haphazardly around his neck; not slowing down, wishing he could leave his problems in the dust being kicked up by his tires.

“What do you mean he’s trying to push the marriage to a month later?” your mother seethes over her coffee, glaring at you.

You shrink from her anger, pushing around a soggy banana with your fork tines. “It’s what he told me,” you argue back weakly. “What was I going to say?”

“What about actually standing up for yourself and doing what is best for our agreement?”

She arches a perfectly groomed brow, waiting for you to respond. You cast a despairing look to your father who picks up his glass of bourbon, sipping on it while he listlessly scrolls through his iPad.

“Listen to your mother, my little light.”

“I did,” you tried again, willing them both to understand. Bunching your fists over your lap, you take a deep breath, hoping they would listen. “I did everything you asked me to: not interrupt him. Let him talk. Laugh at his jokes. Everything,” you emphasize. “And yet he asked me to consider pushing the marriage back by a few weeks. What else could I say?”

You reiterate your question, growing hotter in the cheeks. Finally understanding why some people could have a heart attack in the middle of dinner when the entire situation was spun around to paint you as a villain when you had tried your best to be as cooperative as you could.

A grimace stretches across her plastic-filled cheeks. People often said your mother could win a beauty pageant on her worst days; rising above other beautiful women with her wit, charm and charisma. Of course, she was also the daughter of a department store king, so the money graciously ‘donated’ to these glittery showcases put her many steps forward compared to other contestants.

“I don’t know where I went wrong in raising you,” she sighs, dramatic as always. “Jiro, please. Can you speak to Itadori Jin-san and tell him what our daughter told us? There is no way his brother can resist this offer.”

Offer. Like you were a cow to be traded in the market.

“Lia, I told you, Itadori Jin-san has no control over Itadori-san. That’s his nii-san. It would be a perversion of authority if he forces Sukana-san’s hand in any way.”

Her expression sours. “Well, isn’t there some way we can orchestrate a reunion, perhaps? A dinner or getaway to officially welcome them to the family?”

You blanch at the idea of seeing Sukuna again, stewing in your mortification and humiliation when he had already made it clear how distasteful he finds you.

You’re about to say you don’t mind going with Sukuna’s timeline when he sets his glass down with a pensive look on his face.

Ten years older than your mother and with a brilliant mind born from the best business school in Tokyo, your father was not a man to be played with; his word was law, and that was how he spearheaded the tech scene at the tender age of twenty-five with nothing but a dream and his gritty determination.

Knowing he had to prove himself to your grandfather—your mother’s father, on his capabilities to build a home and a better life for a woman who already had everything—made you wonder how he did it.

From nobody to somebody. It’s why no matter how he treated you, he would always have your respect.

“A getaway?” Jiro murmurs, an idea darkening his thoughts. “That could be interesting. Very interesting indeed. I’ll make some plans and we’ll play it by ear.”

He went back to scrolling, ignoring his smugly beaming wife.

Pacified that she had gotten what she wanted, your mother turns nurturing once more, cooing and touching your shoulder.

“We should get you a spa treatment and a light makeover before Itadori-san sees you. Do you have something to wear in mind?”

As if you were a doll whose only purpose was to be dressed up, this was the reality you were living in for the past twenty-seven years of your life. If Itadori-san didn’t want to marry you fast enough and get you out of your childhood home, you were sure a swift bullet to the head would be the best alternative.

Plastering on a smile, you ponder for a second on your choice.

“I want to try something new,” you decide. A furrow appears in her brow.

“What do you mean by new, my dear?”

“Something Itadori-san would like,” you try to curry her approval, feeling lighter and happier when her solemn face breaks into a knowing smile.

“He says he loves dresses with satin and plunging necklines. Thinner heels. I think Okuta-san would understand.”

Referring to your personal stylist, your mother nods her approval.

“That’s perfect. I’ll get her to do some digging on some of Itadori-san’s past girlfriends and see what they wore.”

Unruffled by how audacious that statement was, you were truly reminded that this marriage was a cruelty of convenience when her smile deepens.

“I’m proud of you for taking this step, my dear,” your mother’s voice warms, though the implications of them make you freeze.

“You’re finally proving your worth to the L/N family.”

a.n. OKAY WE'RE SO BACK. ive deleted the first chapter due to low interaction and decided to give this series a second chance by starting with y/n's pov !! this series will rely heavily on feedback and reblogs (my adhd ass cant work on something if i and other people dont care for it) or else it'll be scraped and we keep things moving (i sincerely hope u loved this <3)

©️ lalunanymph. do not copy, repost, change the sentence structures, translate across any other platforms

#🦢 writes #sukuna x reader #sukuna x you #sukuna x y/n #jjk x reader #jujutsu kaisen #sukuna angst #sukuna smut #series: hopelessly devoted

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sxswriter · 18 days ago

Text

Not Safe for Work

Summary: Maybe agreeing to work on a project with Mr. Sylus, CEO of a billionaire company, wasn't the greatest idea you had

WC: 2.4k

CW: Mature content (mdni), fingering, smut

As a fresh graduate, securing a position with Onychinus Corporation’s strategy and business development department was almost a dream come true. Over your first two years with the company, you poured your heart into your work, and your dedication paid off as you consistently delivered impressive results. You quickly rose to become one of the top performers in your department.

So, when the CEO, Mr. Sylus, sought someone from your department to collaborate on a pivotal project for a stakeholders’ meeting, it was no surprise to anyone that your supervisor personally recommended you. This was the breakthrough you had been waiting for—a chance to prove you were ready for a bigger role.

However, your enthusiasm soon began to fade as you encountered the harsh reality of working one-on-one with Mr. Sylus. The infamous rumors about his ruthless reputation proved all too accurate. In the first few weeks, you found yourself increasingly frustrated as he dismissed every idea you proposed without hesitation, dragging you back to square one repeatedly.

Working closely with him, you slowly began to understand the rationale behind his madness. To ensure his company remained a leader in the industry, every decision needed to be calculated and precise–there was no room for mistakes. Although the progress was slow, you quickly learned everything he taught and were able to finally gain his acknowledgment.

As the months passed, another challenge emerged: your growing attraction to him. He was undeniably attractive, and the constant proximity in his office made it nearly impossible to focus on anything else. You still cursed yourself for wearing new heels that one day, which led to a slight stumble and a coffee spill all over his expensive shirt. When you instinctively reached to wipe the stain, you felt his muscles tense as he grasped your wrist, his voice smooth as he reassured you not to worry. But when he turned his back to change into a spare shirt, you couldn’t help but stare, captivated by the way his back muscles flexed. The image would linger in your mind throughout the day.

Or that one time he had asked you to retrieve something from his bookshelf. Even with your heels, you struggled to reach it, your fingertips barely grazing the item. Just then, you felt his warm presence behind you, his body pressing against your back as he effortlessly grabbed the item you were straining for. You turned your head slightly, catching his smirk as he leaned in closer. With a low, teasing whisper, he said, “Whenever you find yourself struggling to reach anything, just call me. I’d be happy to help.” The heat of his breath sent a shiver down your spine that lingered long after he stepped away

Perhaps the most distracting incident came on the day you quickly grabbed a muffin for breakfast at the first-floor bakery. Waking up late left you with only five minutes to meet him outside the conference room for an important meeting. As he asked you to wait before entering, the atmosphere changed as he stood right in front of you. His hand cupped your cheek, his thumb brushing against your lips as he gently wiped away the crumbs. “You had something on your lips,” he said, his gaze lingering on your mouth. The warmth of his touch sent a rush of heat through you, and when he held the door open for you, your mind was still reeling. Inside the conference room, you struggled to focus on the meeting as thoughts of that brief, intimate moment consumed you.

You also began to see a different side of Mr. Sylus. Beneath the stern facade of the ruthless CEO, he was surprisingly human. He would occasionally play melodic tunes on the record player in his office, which meant enduring his comically off-key humming. One day, you playfully teased him about how horrible he sounded, and he shot back with a critique of your taste in music, making you laugh. He opened up about mentoring two young men named Luke and Kieran, recognizing their potential and taking them under his wing. He shared his calendar with you, encouraging you to drop by his office whenever he had free time, and gave you his number for any needs that might arise.

As time passed, you couldn’t ignore the feelings developing for him. You tried to rationalize it, convincing yourself it was simply a result of working closely together. But deep down, you knew it was because you saw him for who he truly was, not just the CEO but a passionate, driven man with a vulnerable side.

And you knew it was wrong. You had agreed to take on this project for the opportunity, but now you found yourself distracted. A part of you understood the potential consequences of continuing down this path. After all, he was the CEO—there were more important things on his mind.

That morning, you sat at your desk in the strategy and business department, tapping your nails against the surface as you pondered the best way to distance yourself from him and bow out of the project. After a moment of hesitation, you slowly typed up your email:

Dear Mr. Sylus,

I hope this email finds you well. I want to express my gratitude for the opportunity to work under your leadership for the past few months. Learning from you has truly been an enlightening experience. However, due to personal reasons, I would like to be removed from this project. Although I am saddened to come to this decision, I am confident that many talented individuals within the strategy and business department can pick up where I left off and deliver promising results. Thank you for your time.

Sincerely,

Y/N

With a sigh, you hit send, feeling a mix of relief and dread. You knew this was the right choice for your sanity before you fell in too deep. As you stared at the screen, anxiety churned in your stomach, unsure of how he would respond.

An hour later, you saw his reply:

Stop by my office at 12 PM.

Fuck, well that backfired.

Nervously, you entered his office at the designated time, your heart pounding as you approached him. He leaned against his desk, one hand in his pocket and the other fiddling with a black pen. The intensity of his gaze made you feel as if you were his prey, walking into a trap.

“You wanted to see me, sir?” you managed to say, trying to keep your voice steady.

His gaze was heavy, almost piercing. “You’re avoiding me,” he said, getting straight to the point. “Why?”

“I’m no—“

“Don’t lie to me.” He interrupted, his eyes narrowing slightly, a hint of frustration evident.

What was his deal? you thought, a mix of annoyance and confusion bubbling within you. You straightened your posture, defiance rising. “Mr. Sylus, I am not avoiding you. I just have too much on my plate and can’t balance this project on top of my other responsibilities.”

In a swift movement, Sylus grabbed your wrist, and lifted you, positioning you atop his desk, his legs between yours, you could feel the heat radiating from him. His hands were planted firmly on the desk, one on either side of you, effectively caging you in. As he leaned in slightly forward, the proximity made your heart race, a mixture of frustration and undeniable attraction coursing through you. “I said don’t lie to me.”

You glared at him, pushing against his solid frame, but he didn’t budge. “Sylus, what the hell?!”

Frustration bubbled within you, and you finally relented. “Fine! I…” You started, refusing to meet his gaze. “I’ve developed feelings that shouldn’t exist. As a result, working with you now… feels inappropriate and is starting to affect my work.” The admission hung in the air, heavy and raw, as you fought to keep your voice steady, feeling both vulnerable and exposed.

You pushed against him again, desperate for some distance from him. “Anyway, If you have a problem with me no longer wanting to be around you, you could easily find someone to replace me! I’m pretty sure there’s plenty of employees who would jump at the offer.” Your frustration was mounting, “Now, can you please move?”

Sylus gently cupped your chin, drawing your gaze to his intense eyes. “You seem to misunderstand, so let me clarify: I have no intention of replacing you. Do you know why?” He leaned in closer, the space between your lips almost nonexistent. “Because I adore you.”

A rush of heat flooded your cheeks, and you stammered, “W-what?”

“I’ve been aware of how inappropriate it would be to voice those feelings, so I stayed silent,” he continued, his tone steady and serious. “I didn’t want to put you in a compromising position or make you feel pressured to reciprocate because of our roles. I wanted you to come to your feelings for me in your own time.”

The weight of his words hung in the air, shifting everything between you.

You couldn’t believe what you were hearing. It took your breath away to know that he felt the same way you did. A whirlwind of emotions surged through you—relief, joy, and a lingering frustration. The vulnerability of the moment wrapped around you like a warm embrace, making you feel both exposed and cherished. Your heart swelled, the weight of uncertainty lifting as you realized you weren’t alone in your feelings.

Before Sylus could continue talking, you closed the distance, your lips meeting his in a sudden, electrifying kiss. He responded instantly, a fire igniting between you, as if he had been waiting for this moment just as much, if not more, than you. He pressed you down until your back was flat against his desk. Kicking your heels off, you wrapped your legs around him, drawing him even closer, determined to eliminate any space that remained between you both.

Leaving your lips, he trailed kisses down your neck, and you couldn’t help the soft, sweet sounds that fell from your lips. The warmth of his touch sent shivers coursing through your body, and the ache inside you deepened. You felt a heat rising within you, the desire for him growing stronger, turning into a palpable longing that was impossible to ignore. He carefully lifted your blouse over your head and removed your bra, his intense gaze fixed on you, a fire burning in his eyes. As you lay exposed, you welcomed the coolness of his desk against your skin, a refreshing contrast to the heat igniting between you.

Your nipples hardened as if yearning for his attention—and who was he to deny them? He took one of your sensitive buds into his mouth, while his fingers skillfully teased and tugged at the other. Your body instinctively leaned into his touch, a silent testament to the effect he had on you. You lifted your hip, signaling the area where you craved him the most.

Lifting himself, he gently pulled your pencil skirt off and underwear, leaving you fully exposed. With one hand planted on the table, the other began teasingly rubbing against your core. He watched as you whimpered in delight, the sounds spilling from your lips were music to his ears. Gently, he inserted one finger into your entrance. He smirked in satisfaction feeling how wet you were. “You’re so eager for me, kitten,” he said while inserting another finger, establishing a slow and steady pace inside you.

He lowered his face to your lips again, sharing a slow kiss while his fingers quickened their speed. “Such a good girl.” He whispered into your ear. Maintaining the steady rhythm he set, you sensed your climax quickly approaching.

Just as you felt yourself about to unravel, a voice you recognized as the receptionist crackled through the speaker: “Mr. Sylus, the consultant company you asked for is on line 1.”

No! you thought desperately.

You were so close.

“Make sure to stay quiet; we wouldn’t want anyone getting the wrong idea,” he said. You were confused by what he meant by that.

It wasn’t until he accepted the call while still working fingers inside you that the realization hit you—he had no intention of stopping. Meeting his gaze, you saw him lift his unoccupied hand and press a finger to his lips, urging you to be quiet

As Sylus engaged in the call, his eyes remained fixed on you. You could see the playful glimmer in his gaze as he entered a third finger, making it hard to contain yourself. You slapped your hand against your lips to stay silent.

“I trust that this is something you can handle,” he said in response to something the man on the line mentioned, but the way he looked at you made it clear the message was for you.

“Thanks for your time Mr. Sylus, I’ll follow up with any updates next week.” The voice on the speaker faded, followed by the sharp click that marked the end of the cell.

“Sy—ahh—,” you whined, your thoughts a jumbled mess, unable to form a coherent sentence as pleasure coursed through you. All you could focus on was the sweet finish ahead and the man who would take you there. Desperate for some stability, you pulled Sylus closer, seeking his warmth as a way to ground yourself. His breath was warm against your skin, making it harder to think straight, but you needed him there, anchoring you in the moment.

When you finally came undone, your eyes rolled back, engulfed by the overwhelming rush that consumed you. You hadn’t expected for it to feel this intense, leaving you breathless.

As you struggled to catch your breath, you watched as Sylus finally removed his fingers, your face was practically burning as you watched him lick the fingers which brought you to an indescribable high.

You noticed him press a button on the phone at his desk.

“Yes, boss?” his receptionist answered.

With a slow, purposeful motion, he unbuckled his belt, his eyes locked onto you with an intense desire. “Cancel the rest of my meetings for today. I have more urgent matters to attend to.”

You gulped as you realized, the fingers he had in you not too long ago were just a small taste of what he had in store for you.

#love and deepspace sylus #love and deepspace #sylus smut #sylus #sylus x mc #lnds sylus #sylus x reader #love and deepsace smut #office au #had to get this out of my system

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animeomegas · 11 months ago

Text

The Quest for a Second Life - Part 7 - 50 Shades of Audacity (3)

KAKASHI X ALPHA!READER

Summary: The Autumn Company Party. It had been the centre of the storyline for reasons unknown, and now it was upon you. Whatever happened though, this was sure to be your last night in Kakashi's pocket universe, and a difficult decision was right around the corner. At least you had one final attempt to get your dick wet. GN!Dom!Alpha!Reader x Multiple

Word count: 10k

Warnings: N-sfw content, talks of collaring, alcohol consumption, Kakashi's abandonment issues. All alpha have dicks, fyi.

A/N: The final major part is done!!! Gosh, it's been such a journey and it's bittersweet to see it coming to an end. Happy holidays to everyone and I hope you enjoy this final part. @omeganronpa has a tough choice for the epilogue, which will be released on Christmas day :D Direct all arguments, begging and bribery here! May the best omega win! <3

Part 1 - Part 2 - Part 3 - Part 4 - Part 5 - Part 6 - Part 7 - Epilogue

Despite your best attempts, you never did get an explanation of Kakashi’s strange behaviour during that phone call. Kakashi had remained tight-lipped in the face of every strategy you used to weasel the information out of him. You fully believed that, if you had been given the appropriate amount of time, you would have eventually extracted the information, but unfortunately, time had been something of a rarity over the last few weeks.

The Autumn Company Party had approached like a speeding train, and you had been forced against your will to do your job and aid in the planning. You had lost track of how many times the importance of the event had been explained to you at this point, mainly to justify your massive and ever-growing workload.

“Every important investor and stakeholder will be in attendance!” You didn’t care.

“The board of directors will be there!” You really didn’t care.

“This will be your debut as the CEO’s secretary, if you don’t make a good impression, you could be fired and blacklisted!” You especially didn’t care about that one. Don’t threaten people with a good time.

No, the part itself wasn’t something you particularly cared about. It was going to be a boring work party, like every other one you’d attended in your life, that would be partially saved by the fact that you got to be the one to design the menu with the catering company.

No, you cared about whatever the other ‘thing’ at the party would be. This was the climax of the story, and that was putting you on edge. Even James didn’t know what would happen, but she seemed completely convinced that something would.

And so, it was with a weird combination of foreboding, fatigue, and excitement that you were putting together the finishing touches of your outfit, ten minutes before Kakashi was scheduled to pick you up and take you to the party.

It felt weird, standing in a still unfamiliar flat, looking in an unfamiliar mirror, to see a done-up version of yourself that you didn’t recognise. Because really, that had been the only thing you had carried with you from your real life. You had always been you, in body and mind, even as reality melted and reformed around you.

And you still were you, of course, just a version of you that was wearing more expensive clothes, had styled hair, and donned with more jewellery than you normally would. It just made you feel strange.

You straightened, brushing down imaginary creases in your outfit, and pointed at your own reflection accusatorily. “Get over yourself. You’re wearing nice clothes, stop being dramatic.”

There, that should fix it. You were just nervous about the unknown ‘thing’ that would be happening tonight, and it was bleeding into everything else.

Your phone buzzed on your desk, almost certainly a text from Kakashi telling you that he was outside. With one final glance in the mirror, you left the flat, wondering vaguely if you’d be back to see it before the demo ended. If this party was indeed the climax of this story, then you might never return.

You gave the flat a little goodbye wave, just in case.

As you exited the building, the chill of the Autumn wind caught you off guard. You wrapped your arms around yourself, already regretting the decision not to bring a coat, and hurried towards the sleek, black car that was waiting for you.

Kakashi stepped out of the car as you approached and held open the door for you.

You grinned, “What a gentleman, thank you.”

“Of course.” He followed you back into the car and shut the door behind him, leaving you enclosed in the glorious warmth of Kakashi’s heated car and its heated seats. “You look beautiful.”

You knew it was a standard thing to say in a situation like this, but Kakashi just had a way of making compliments sound so genuine. Maybe because he wasn’t the type to keep his negative opinions to himself. Either way, you were flattered.

“Thanks, Kakashi, I appreciate that. And you paying for the outfit, of course.” You took a moment to study him, in turn. He was wearing a well tailored suit like he always was, but to match the celebratory feel, he’d gone for a dark green colour scheme as opposed to his usual monochrome. Although the lighting inside the car was dim, it was easy to see how well the colour suited him. “You’re looking incredibly handsome, yourself. What a pair we make.”

“A very attractive pair indeed,” Kakashi agreed, taking one of your hands in his. He gave it a squeeze, so you gave one back.

Silence fell, and for a moment, you focused on the way Kakashi’s thumb was rubbing on the back of your hand. This was the first time you’d been properly alone for a while now, and you found your mind drifting back to that weird phone call. You decided to ask him about it again now, seeing as he had nowhere to run.

“Kakashi—”

“I—”

You had both started to speak at once.

“Sorry, I didn’t—” You started to apologise.

“No, I’m sorry, what were you going to say?”

“Oh, it was nothing, you go first.”

Kakashi looked like he was going to argue, but he clearly decided against it and said what was on his mind.

“At the party, we can’t behave as we’d normally do at the office,” he said. “Our relationship isn’t compatible with our jobs, and while the people in my office are friendly and mostly discreet, stakeholders and board members have a track record for being less so.”

Kakashi looked guilty, so you gave his hand another squeeze to show that you didn’t hold this against him. It made sense that an important work party wasn’t the right place for making out, but you wondered if he thought that you thought he was ashamed of your relationship or something.

“I understand. Old, rich people are terrible at keeping their noses out of other people’s business.”

“That’s certainly putting it lightly,” Kakashi muttered. He seemed more frustrated that you’d expected for what was objectively a minor issue.

Granted, you had kind of been expecting some kind of action at this party, this being the climax of a porn universe narrative, but you’d live if it turned out that the ‘thing’ was something non-horny. Honestly, you’d be happy if you got through the night without any more spontaneous stripping.

“Hey, it’s only one night, right? We can manage.” Kakashi looked at you consideringly, before a small smile bloomed on his face.

“One night,” he repeated, voice soft. “I can do that.”

“We’re five minutes away, sir.”

You took a deep breath. No matter what this party threw at you, you could handle it!

…

Apparently, what this party was throwing at you was extreme boredom.

Admittedly, it wasn’t an entirely lost cause. The venue was dazzling and incredibly fancy, and you knew you’d never stepped foot in a hotel so expensive before. Walking through the front doors with Kakashi, dressed to perfection… well, it had felt a little like you were royalty. It was incredibly good for the old self-esteem.

Once you had actually entered the party though, it was a whole different story.

While your coworkers were quick to compliment you, which was lovely, it was clear that they were too on edge to be having fun. The music was quiet, which was better for talking and networking, but didn’t exactly encourage dancing. And whenever you did try to speak to new people, they wanted to ask about your professional qualifications and experiences working under Kakashi. The cherry on top of this awful cake was that the only alcohol offered was champagne, which wasn’t your favourite, nor did it numb the boredom of the party very well.

You had barely even seen Kakashi, bar a few quick flashes in passing as he schmoozed his way through the hall like a pro. His serious warning about not behaving like a couple seemed a bit dramatic now, seeing as you hadn’t even had the chance to make eye contact.

‘Are you sure it was just a warning, human?’

You jumped at James’ sudden interjection. You furtively glanced around you to make sure that none of your coworkers had noticed your seemingly out of place reaction. Thankfully, people seemed too busy to care.

‘What do you mean? What else could it have been?’

‘…’

‘James?’

‘Perhaps it was an explanation, human.’

‘An explanation? An explanation for what? Surely that means the same thing as a warning in this context.’

James didn’t respond. How bizarre. You didn’t much care for having a riddle added on top of your evening. Honestly, if it were just a boring party, you would have found someway to have fun, but you knew that some kind of event would be unfolding here, which was putting you on edge. Every second that ticked by completely normally felt like it was building to something big. And James’ riddles weren’t helping assuage the anxiety that sensation was creating.

Between the stress, the lack of alcohol, and the enforced networking, it was an exceptionally mid party, even if it was pretty.

The only saving grace was the buffet table, that you were slowly weaving your way back towards for probably the tenth time that night. This time, you decided to just remain lingering by the food in the hopes that it would stop people from asking questions about a degree you didn’t actually do.

You loaded up your plate was as much as you could and then found an empty section of wall to lean on. You popped one of the mac and cheese balls in your mouth and almost moaned at the flavour sensation that followed. They were heavenly, salty and creamy, and the breadcrumbs around the outside had just the right amount of crispiness. Like everything else on the buffet, it had an impressive depth of flavour. You weren’t ashamed to admit that having access to this catering company was on the pros column for staying in this world.

Consumed in your world of cheesy goodness, you almost didn’t notice when what you thought was a member of waitstaff leant against the wall next to you. He was carrying a tray of hors d’oeuvres, and you wondered if he was just taking a break or if you were somehow in his way.

“How are you holding up?” Hearing a familiar voice come from what you thought was a stranger had you doing a double take. You were met with Iruka’s charming grin. He was dressed in a standard black suit that obviously wasn’t tailored the way Kakashi’s were, but somehow, he pulled off the ‘slightly too big’ look with a level of a scampish charm.

What you had originally thought was a tray of hors d’oeuvres was in fact a plate that Iruka had stacked full of shot glasses, each one filled with a mini ramen. As he waited for your response, he grabbed one of the glasses and poured the ramen into his mouth with a satisfied hum.

Ah, you thought, amused, he’d wasted no time finding them.

“As well as can be,” you said, answering his original question. “How about you? Enjoying the food?”

Iruka, who was in the middle of eating a second ramen shot, paused for a second, his ears going slightly red. You snorted, averting your eyes for a second to allow him to finish the ramen shot in peace.

“Thanks,” he muttered, referring to your insistence that the catering team create a ramen hors d’oeuvre. “Makes this ridiculous party worth it.”

“No, thank you,” you countered, referring to his substantial help with the planning and paperwork for this event when your duties got a bit overwhelming. “I couldn’t have got everything finished without your help.”

“Too busy running around with Kakashi?” When you didn’t defend yourself, he rolled his eyes fondly. “You two are menaces. Actually, speaking of Kakashi, shouldn’t you be getting ready with him to go on stage about now?”

“What?” That was the first you’d heard about any obligation to go on stage. If this turned into a cheesy scene where you had to do something ridiculous like sing a duet with Kakashi, you were going to riot, possible retaliations from porn logic be damned. You did not sign up for High School Musical shenanigans. “Why would I have to go on stage?”

“Oh, you don’t know? Sorry, I thought Kakashi would have explained it to you.”

“Okay, fine, but he obviously didn’t, so could you please tell me why I have to go on stage?” Was this what James meant by the big ‘thing’ that would be happening at the Autumn Company Party?

“Of course.” Despite his positive response, Iruka then proceeded to eat another one of his ramen shots, and only after he was done, did he continue with the explanation. “Every year, Kakashi gives a speech around halfway through the party. Normal stuff, just summarising the last year, talking about new projects, thanking all the generation donators and stakeholders. The CIO of the company, Tsunade, stands by him for the speech, and for the first few years, his personal assistant stood behind him too. He hasn’t had one for a while, but now you’re here, you’ll need to stand behind him with Tsunade.”

You squinted your eyes suspiciously. “And I won’t have to speak?”

“Nope,” Iruka said, brightly. “You just have to stand there.”

Huh, that wasn’t so bad. It was slightly annoying that you were being taken away from the buffet table, but you would live.

‘You are being very brave, human.’

‘Thanks, James.’ Again, you had no idea if she didn’t know what the concept of sarcasm was, or she deployed it with skill on a never-before-seen scale. It was definitely either or, but which one, you would never know.

“Wait,” you said, suddenly remembering what Kakashi had told you about your interview with him. “Kakashi used to have a personal assistant? He said he didn’t want one because he worked better alone.”

Iruka hesitated. He looked left, then right, and when he saw that you were as alone as you could be, he leant in close and whispered.

“His old personal assistant is why he didn’t want a new one,” he explained. “At first, it didn’t seem like anything was wrong with him, but it turned out he had been placed there by the board to spy on Kakashi and relay information back. Kakashi fired him as soon as he found out, but he never accepted a personal assistant again, until the board forced him to hold interviews, and he hired you.”

“Seriously?” Iruka nodded, lips tight. “That’s crazy.” You wondered briefly how many of the people you were sitting with in the waiting room were plants from the board.

“We don’t talk about it, but everyone who was working there at the time this went down knows about it. That’s one of the reasons we were so surprised, not only when you were hired, but when you and Kakashi seemed to be having a personal relationship outside of work. I’m surprised he trusted you at all.”

Goodness. You leant against the wall as you considered what Iruka was saying. It was wild to think about how much resistance and betrayal Kakashi had faced from within his own company. You’d bet that they hadn’t been too happy when Kakashi turned 18 and decided he wanted to lead his company, and when they couldn’t take it from him, they kept tabs and put pressure on him as much as possible.

This information also contextualised your interview differently. Kakashi had claimed that he hired you because you were funny. You had theorised that you had awoken his submissive side, this being an erotica and all. And maybe both of those were true to some extent, but you now believed that it was far more likely that Kakashi had decided you were too rowdy, rude, and unprofessional to have been a plant from the board of directors.

It clicked his initial suspicions about your motivations into place, too. He hadn’t trusted your reasons for asking him to dinner, not at first. When you had demanded to spend time with him, you’d bet he was wandering if you were there to spy on him.

“Poor Kakashi…”

Iruka nodded solemnly, and then downed another ramen shot. You scanned the room while he did, hoping to catch Kakashi’s eye, wherever he was. It took you a moment, but then you found him, standing at the base of the stage, standing next to Tsunade. Ah fuck.

“I think I have to go, thanks for keeping me company, Iruka.”

Iruka waved his hand, “Good luck. I can look after your plate for you if you want—”

“No need.” You shoved the last handful of mac and cheese balls into your mouth, dumped the plate on the table, and then chewed furiously as you worked your way to the stage.

“There you are,” Tsunade said, two glasses of champagne in hand. She quickly downed them both and then shoved them into the hands of a poor waiter as he passed by. “Let’s get this over with.”

You tried to catch Kakashi’s eye, but he was too focused on walking to the stage. You and Tsunade followed after him, and you resolved to talk to him after the speech was finished.

Kakashi went up to the mic and you and Tsunade stood at his side, a few paces back. You spotted a few board members in the crowd, and you felt the urge to stick your tongue out at them. You just about managed to resist.

Kakashi used the knife against the champagne glass he was holding, and a sharp ting echoed through the microphone and around the room. The spotlight on the stage turned on, and suddenly you were bathed in a bright, white light. Everyone quieted and turned to face the stage.

The lights were hurting your eyes and making your skin feel hot, but at least your only job was to stand there and look pretty. You were good at that.

“Good evening, everyone,” Kakashi said, sounding effortlessly comfortable speaking in front of so many people. “Thank you all for coming tonight, and I hope you’ve been enjoying yourselves thus far.”

It was weird to hear him speak like this; he sounded very different when you two were alone. That was to be expected, you supposed, but it didn’t make it feel any less jarring.

“I won’t keep you long, but I thought it prudent to take a moment to thank everyone who has made this last year as successful as it was. To our staff, to our stake holders, and to our board members, I say thank you.” He raised his glass in a toast. “We would not have a company without you.”

This was an incredibly boring and generic speech. You had been sure that the ‘thing’ that was supposed to happen would happen now, but all that was happening was you struggling not to fall asleep in front of everyone.

“The past year has been a year of perfecting, of tweaking that which was already in place to make it perfect. Among other things, the building work on the new cafeteria was completed this year, and the debut of our first international branch went smoothly and successfully.”

Ugh, as Kakashi’s personal assistant, you knew all this stuff already. You just wanted to go back to the buffet, was that too much to ask?

“However, following the stage of perfection will always be a stage of change. We must now introduce new projects that will grow and be perfected over time, like the projects that came before them. And there is one major change that will take effect going forward.”

Confused whispers spread across the hall. You noticed a few members of the board looking specifically irritated, and you’d bet that Kakashi had not informed anyone in advance of whatever this big change was.

Even Tsunade was watching him warily from the corner of her eye.

“I’m resigning,” Kakashi announced, paired with his signature eye smile.

The room was silent enough that you could have heard a pin drop.

What?

Chaos erupted. People were shouting questions, making exclamations of disbelief, and loudly assuming this was a prank that wasn’t very funny.

Kakashi ignored the noise and leant back into the mic. “I nominate Tsunade as my successor.”

Tsunade sputtered, “Eh?! Like hell you are, brat!”

He had resigned. Kakashi had resigned as CEO of the company he had been a part of his entire life. James had said that whatever happened at the party would be a direct consequence of how you had acted in this demo. So, presumably, this was your fault, but how?

Our relationship isn’t compatible with our jobs, that’s what he’d said to you in the car. You had thought he was warning you to tone things down for the evening, but James had suggested that it wasn’t a warning, but an explanation. You hadn’t understood what she’d meant, but now you did. He was explaining to you, in his own way, why he was about to resign.

The strange phone call fit, too. He had mentioned thinking about the Autumn Company Party, and whatever was on his mind had made him seek your number for comfort, but he refused to tell what he was thinking about. He was likely thinking about whether he should resign.

While you put the pieces together, the room around you was still very much in a state of chaos. Kakashi, however looked completely calm. He put the microphone back in the stand, handed his champagne and knife to a raging Tsunade, and then turned to you.

You watched as he approached you. You could feel how wide your eyes were. You thought he was going to say something, but he got closer and closer until he was right in your personal space, where he looped an arm around your waist, pulled you tight against him, and kissed you.

He was kissing you. Kakashi was kissing you in front of his whole company. You had kissed Kakashi before, many times, but there was something about this kiss that overshadowed all the others. It took a moment for your brain to catch up to what was happening and remember to how to kiss, but you eventually found your footing.

Your lips and tongues danced together serenely, driving out the chaos of the background noise until you two were the only people that mattered. You could feel and taste the longing pouring out of Kakashi, begging you to understand him and stay by his side. You wound your hands around his neck to reassure him, and in return, he squeezed your waist affectionately.

You were quickly running out of air, but you didn’t want this moment to end.

Regardless of your wishes, however, the kiss did end. As Kakashi pulled away slowly, the bubble burst and the noise from the party came rushing back in. Questions were still being shouted, and while some people were displeased by Kakashi’s display, others cheered.

You felt like you were trapped in a daze. You half expected to topple over when Kakashi let go of you to lean back to the microphone.

“We have paid for the venue until 1am, so please enjoy the rest of the party. Goodnight!”

And with that, he grabbed you by the hand and pulled you through a stage door and out of the party. You let him, still completely stunned at what had just happened.

You walked out of the venue in silence, through a back exit for somewhat obvious reasons, and Kakashi’s car was already waiting for you both. You both slid into the warmth of the car, and the second the seatbelts were on, the car pulled away from the hotel and into the city. The bright lights filtered into the car as you drove, but the outside world had never felt so far away.

“Are you… okay?” Kakashi asked, voice nervous.

You wanted to answer him properly, really you did, but your mouth and brain weren’t quite in agreement yet, so the only thing that came out was, “I was going to fill the Tupperware in my bag with more mac and cheese bites.”

Kakashi blinked at you for a moment, before he sent you nervous smile. “I’ll order you some more, as many as you want, I promise.”

Through your embarrassment at you lacking filter, you nodded, and silence fell in the car again. Unlike the normal, comfortable silence that you shared with Kakashi, the awkwardness was palpable. You wanted to break it, but you didn’t quite know how, after everything that had just happened. When your phone buzzed, you grabbed for it desperately as an escape from the weird silence. It was a text from Kurenai.

‘Sorry for not warning you in advance what Kakashi was planning. I feel pretty guilty now, Asuma too. He says the apology is from him too.’

Right, so some people did know in advance. Honestly, you were a bit annoyed that no one had warned you. You were halfway through writing a slightly snarky text back, when she sent another message.

‘We were planning on telling you, but we had to focus on convincing Kakashi out of his idea to propose to you this evening.’

You immediately forgave them both, deleted the previous message, and instead thanked them profusely for saving you from a very awkward conversation. Oh, Kakashi.

Speaking of Kakashi, he was sitting awkwardly in his seat, staring out the window. His shoulders were incredibly tense. You couldn’t just leave him sitting there.

“So, are you really resigning?”

Kakashi swallowed heavily, “Yes… I was thinking about what you said, about having my own dreams, and I still don’t know what those dreams are yet, but I know they aren’t in that company, not anymore.”

You nodded slowly. Kakashi was watching your reaction like a hawk.

“I’m not going to leave completely, I don’t think I could,” he hastened to add. “I can’t abandon my father’s company completely, but… I need time.”

“I understand, Kakashi, it’s okay.”

“You do?” He sounded so vulnerable and lost. You undid your seatbelt and slid into the middle seat instead, before clicking the belt back on. From there, you were able to wrap your arms around Kakashi.

It was slightly awkward in the car, but you didn’t let that stop you. Kakashi fell into your arms gratefully and braced his head against your shoulder.

“I do, darling. You’ve been working your entire life at that company, Kakashi, you deserve a break. I’m already tired of working, so I can’t imagine how you feel. I’ll support whatever pathway you choose to take.”

Kakashi sagged onto you, breathing harshly and clinging onto you with desperate hands. You shushed him, and gently ran your fingers through his hair.

Poor Kakashi, you thought, holding him tightly. You could tell that he was so incredibly burnt out, but he hadn’t even noticed until someone had forced him to see that other choices existed. And once you had pulled the curtain back and showed him reality, he couldn’t bare to continue the way he had been for even a second longer.

Now that the shock had subsided, you were filled with pride for him. It wasn’t easy to leave something life-defining behind, even if you wanted to. But he had done it, and now you were going to be here to make sure he could handle the emotional backlash.

You pressed a kiss to Kakashi’s gravity-defying hair and gave him an affectionate nuzzle. If you chose this world, and your fictional family became real, you were dragging Kakashi into it.

“I want to do up my childhood home properly,” he said, pulling away and rubbing at his eyes. “I want to modernise it again, fill it with new photos and unrestrained laughter. I want to walk my dogs; I don’t want to hire a dog walker anymore. And…”

“And?” you pressed your forehead against his.

“And I hope you’ll be there with me. Because that’s one thing I do know. I love you, and I want you with me wherever I go.”

“Oh, Kakashi,” you cooed softly, pecking him on the lips. “I love you too, and I’ll follow you wherever you go, my darling.”

He sighed, relieved, “And you aren’t angry at me for not telling you that I was resigning?”

“Well, I wouldn’t say that. I would have appreciated a heads up, I won’t lie.”

“I’m sorry,” he said quietly. He dropped his head onto your shoulder. “Maybe… maybe you should punish me…”

It took a moment for his unexpected words to sink in, but when they did, heat rushed downwards.

Oh.

…

You had expected to end up at Kakashi’s penthouse, but his chauffeur had pulled up in front of your flat instead. It had given more credence to your theory that Kakashi preferred your flat to his. You didn’t mind, so you didn’t comment on it.

You could have done without the flat look Kakashi’s chauffeur had given you both when he said that he wouldn’t be needing a lift home until tomorrow though.

The warmth of your flat was a welcome change from the Autumn chill, but it was the hot, electric tension fizzling through air that really captured your attention. You both kicked off your shoes and put down your bags, but the second you were done, the tension snapped, and you slammed Kakashi against the door with your body, pressing your lips against his in an aggressive kiss.

Kakashi met your sudden kiss with no hesitation and just as much aggression. You could feel the clack of your teeth knocking together, but you couldn’t hear it over the door shaking in the frame. You sent a half-hearted apology to your neighbours for the kind of noises they were about to hear.

You kissed with urgency. Kakashi moaned into your mouth and his hands pawed at your waist. There weren’t any undertones of dominance or submissive yet, only passion. Your lips tangled with his as you pushed through the burning need for oxygen.

When you could hold out no longer, you pulled away and instead took the opportunity to nuzzle at Kakashi’s neck, inhaling his heady scent, and undo the buttons on Kakashi’s shirt.

“Your shirts still have too many buttons,” you panted against Kakashi’s skin. “I think we should burn them all.”

“If you want me naked, you just have to ask,” he said, chest heaving.

“Maybe I will.” You finished the last button, leaving Kakashi’s shirt to hang open. He was still wearing his tie and suit jacket, which framed the newly revealed sliver of skin. “Now that you’re not a big, fancy CEO, I can keep you as my naked butler.”

Kakashi snorted. “Of course, you’re into that.”

You pulled away from his neck and grinned, “How do you feel about cat ears?”

Kakashi didn’t seem to find your idea as amusing as you did. “You wish.”

You hummed in amusement, loosening his tie and throwing it behind you somewhere. His jacket quickly followed, crumpling on the ground at the base of the front door, leaving Kakashi in only his open shirt and trousers.

Kakashi, sensing the unfair differences in dress, attempted to liberate you from your shirt, but you caught both of his wrists in your hands and pinned them against the door.

“I can’t touch you? That’s hardly fair,” he pouted, playfully tugging at your restraint.

You slipped a knee in between his legs and ground it up against his crotch. Kakashi gave a hoarse gasp and folded forward slightly. “This isn’t supposed to be fair, Kakashi. Was it fair that you didn’t tell me of your resignation in advance? This is a punishment, darling.”

Kakashi growled lightly. You knew how much he loved to touch you, which is exactly why you denied him the honour. You growled back at him and to your delight, he immediately submitted, baring his neck. You nipped at the newly presented flesh, trying to keep yourself from getting too close to mating mark territory.

Maybe one day he would wear your mating mark, but today was not that day.

“Come on,” you said, pulling him forward by the belt. “I think it’s time we move to the bedroom before someone complains about the banging on the front door.”

“Do you have to tug me by my trousers?” Kakashi asked, although he didn’t do anything to stop you.

“Hmm, you’re right, this would be much easier with a lead, and a collar, of course.” You grinned at him with heavily lidded eyed. “Would you like me to get you your very own collar, ‘kashi?”

You were just testing the waters with that particular kink. It would be easy for him to write it off as a joke, like the cat ears, but if he liked it…

Kakashi’s pale skin lit up in a brilliant pink. Well, that answered that question.

“Figures. You’d look hot in a collar, puppy.”

“Shut up,” Kakashi mumbled weakly, still following you obediently.

On the way to the bedroom, Kakashi lost his shirt, his trousers, and his underwear, creating a trail of clothes to the bedroom like a strange R-rated version of Hansel and Gretel.

You entered your bedroom and flicked on the lights. Kakashi went to stand by the bed, seemingly waiting for your next instruction. Having a naked omega in your bedroom really was the best way to end a night.

Honestly, it was a shame you couldn’t have a naked Kakashi and naked Itachi here with you. That impossibility was far more tragic than your own untimely death.

“Now, what should I do for your punishment, Kakashi, hm?” you asked, tilting your head consideringly. “Should I replicate Makoto’s punishment? You seemed to enjoy that.”

You delicately rested your hands on his throat, teasing him with featherlight touches. Kakashi shuddered, and his eyes fluttered closed. You used both hands to complete the full collar effect around his neck, just as had been described in the Icha Icha book.

“It makes sense that you like collars, considering the amount of time you spend reading about Makoto wearing one. Is that why you like Icha Icha, Kakashi?”

“I told you, I read it for the story. It’s a masterpiece of—"

You gently applied a little more pressure to the sides of his neck and his weak argument went silent. You felt powerful watching him fold at your feet.

As much as asking him for his opinion on his punishment was a method of teasing him, you really did have to figure out what his punishment was going to be.

You hadn’t had much time to plan, and your flat was tragically empty of things like toys or bondage. You resolved to fix that if you ended up in this world, but that didn’t help you right now.

For anyone else, you might have considered just denying him pleasure while he pleasured you, but Kakashi was a service sub through and through. No, he wasn’t going to be allowed to touch you, but you weren’t going to touch him either. He needed to focus on his own pleasure, and just like that, the perfect idea sprang to mind.

“Get on the bed and present to me; I want to see that sopping hole of yours.”

You watched with rapt attention as Kakashi climbed onto your bed on all fours. He let his shoulders fall to the blanket and then, resting his weight on his shoulders, he reached behind him.

“That’s it,” you mumbled, almost drooling. “Show alpha that needy hole.”

Kakashi used his hands to bare his hole for you, holding it open for your scrutiny. And what pretty picture he made, just for you.

His hole was indeed sopping wet, glistening in the warm lighting as his fingers struggled to retain a grip on the slippery skin. His dick swung proudly downwards, framed by the A-line shape Kakashi had created with his thighs. It dribbled a few clear beads of precum onto your sheets, but the idea of having to grab a towel for your activities was quickly dismissed when you realised you couldn’t bare to take your eyes off your omega for even a second.

Kakashi’s muscles strained as he kept up the presenting position for you. Confidence practically oozed from every pore in his body, exemplified no better in the challenging grin he had on his face. Kakashi knew he was sexy, and he was willing to weaponize that against you as much as possible.

Once again, you were struck by how different he was from Itachi. Sex didn’t make Kakashi bashful, emotions did. Sex didn’t make him feel like a different person, it amplified his traits. Itachi had been the opposite in both.

Honestly, if an outsider had seen your two dimension choices, you wouldn’t have blamed them for assuming that two different people had been involved.

You sat on the edge of the bed and leant forward so that you face was eye height with his hole. It twitched under your scrutiny, and you couldn’t help but coo.

“What a pretty hole you have, omega.” You blew some cold air on it to watch it flinch. As it clenched, a drop of slick began to run down to his thighs. It was practically drooling for you, begging you to fill it with something.

Although the rest of Kakashi was very pretty indeed, his hole had to be one of his best features. Tragically, you hadn’t had much time to spend with it recently, with all the work you’d had to do. It was probably lonely without you, and that wouldn’t do.

Except… you studied it closely, noting the slight gape and softness that you didn’t expect. Maybe his hole hadn’t been as lonely as you’d thought, because he was far too stretched considering it had been more than a week.

Oh, you realised, smirking, big, bad, genius Kakashi had been touching himself. He had been lonely and horny as work kept you both apart, and he had decided to take matters into his own hands. You imagined him for a moment, splayed on the massive bed in his penthouse, one hand fucking himself and the other pressed over his mouth to keep himself from waking his dogs.

“Have you been lonely, Kakashi?” you asked, deciding to call him out on it.

“No?” You could hear the question in his voice; he didn’t know where you were going with this, and that made it sweeter.

“I only asked because, well,” -you paused for effect- “your hole is looking very ready right now. I wonder if perhaps you’ve been touching yourself without my permission.”

The pink flush crept down Kakashi’s back, and he turned to hide his face in your duvet; you’d caught him red handed.

“Ah, what a slutty puppy I have, hm?” Kakashi whined, and some more beads of pre cum splashed against the blanket. “Tell me, did you use a toy, or did you use your fingers?”

“Is that any of your business?”

“Kakashi…” you said, warning clear.

“…Fingers,” Kakashi said reluctantly, his voice muffled by your blanket. “I used my fingers.”

Perfect. “Show me.”

“What?”

“Show me how you fingered yourself, Kakashi. What position did you use? Show your alpha how you placated that slutty hole of yours.”

Hesitantly, Kakashi turned over so that he was laying on his back, legs splayed wide for your viewing pleasure. He then grabbed one of the decorative cushions and slotted it under his hips so that his hole was easier to reach. Kakashi held his lips between his teeth and brought a hand down so that his fingertips were resting on his hole.

“I did it like this…”

“I see,” you said, tilting your head at him. “And how many fingers did you use?”

“I started with one.”

You waved your hand at him to go ahead. “Show me how you did it.”

Kakashi slowly sunk his middle finger in, making an obscene squelching noise as he did. Clear fluid dripped out around his finger, and you were once again incredibly grateful for the immaculate horny imagery that the porn logic provided for you.

Idly, you wondered if he really had started with his middle finger, or if it was some kind of subtle ‘fuck you’. With Kakashi, you could never bee 100% sure.

He pumped the finger in a few times, obviously finding no resistance. His angry cock stood proudly, but Kakashi ignored it for the time being.

“But one finger didn’t satisfy you, did it? Your greedy hole needed more.”

Kakashi rolled his eyes but nodded, “I used two fingers next.” He didn’t need to be asked to show you this time, and his pointer finger soon joined his middle one.

Now he had two fingers, Kakashi picked up the pace and began periodically curling his fingers in search of that wonderful bundle of nerves. The wet noises increased, but Kakashi didn’t seem to be having much luck.

You watched as he got progressively more frustrated at his inability to find his prostate. He tried to hike his legs up further to get a better angle, but no luck. He tried switching hands, but it didn’t help at all. He even tried holding his breath at one point, just in case it had some kind of effect, but nothing.

His face scrunched up and he bared his teeth, but it wasn’t like his own body was going to somehow be intimidated into giving him what he wanted, so that didn’t work either.

You watched, baffled and slightly amused, as the wet patch underneath his hips grew larger and larger, completely soaking your decorative pillow, and yet Kakashi still couldn’t seem to get close to his orgasm.

For a moment, you wondered if something was wrong, before you realised what forces controlled the universe you were currently in. This was a punishment because Kakashi took an action without you. It only made narrative sense that he couldn’t find his own prostate and needed you to do it for him.

The lecherous grin that blossomed on your face would have likely scared more delicate omegas away.

You let him finger himself for almost ten minutes, at which point you could tell his hands were starting to cramp, and his face was bright red from exertion. His thighs were trembling, and he was sweating, but his release had escaped him the entire time.

You figured fifteen minutes of frustrating edging was enough punishment for now. You gently rested your hand on top on his, ceasing his frantic fingering. Carefully, you extracted his fingers with a wet plop. Kakashi whined, but you shushed him, putting his hand down on his stomach.

“It’s not going to happen on your own, darling, don’t you understand?” Kakashi peered up at you, panting. His eyes made it clear that he didn’t understand. “You need me to do it for you. I can make you feel so very good, but you need to learn to trust me. I know what you need, I can deliver what you need. You just” -you slipped two of your own fingers inside him- “need” -you pumped them slowly- “to trust” -you curled your fingers, immediately finding his swollen prostate with the power of porn logic- “me.” You pressed down on the bundle of nerves as hard as you could.

Kakashi gasped, his entire body lifting off the bed as he finally got a taste of the pleasure he had been desperately chasing. His cock was weeping, and you rolled his balls in your free hand, but stopped moving your fingers.

“Right there,” he panted, sounding close to tears. “Hit there again.”

You stared him down, pointedly not moving your fingers. “Why are you being punished, Kakashi?”

“What?!”

“Why are you being punished?” He glared at you, but you only raised an eyebrow at him, the same way he did to you so often when you first met.

“You’re playing this game now?” You refused to budge, and quickly, his desperation outweighed his pride. “Because I didn’t warn you that I was going to resign.”

“And why is that bad?”

Kakashi growled, “Because it concerned you and you deserved to know.”

“Apologise.”

“I’m sorry,” he said, voice desperate. He rocked his hips down on your fingers, muscles shaking. “I’m sorry, I won’t do it again, just please, get me off!”

It was hardly the most articulate or heartfelt of apologies, but you were happy to let it slide this time. You pumped your fingers in and out a few times and Kakashi relaxed. Now, you just had to curl your fingers just right, and— There!

You grinded your fingers into his prostate mercilessly. Kakashi’s eyes rolled backwards and the noise that escaped him was one of pure, toe curling, ecstasy.

“This feels better, doesn’t it, ‘kashi.” You didn’t phrase it as a question because you knew you were right. “That’s because I’m doing it. You’re so used to being the one in control, the one everyone comes to when they need help or advice, but deep down, you just want someone else to deal with everything, don’t you?”

Kakashi whined as you picked up the pace with your fingers. His prostate was so swollen that you caught it every time. When you used your other hand on his cock, his whine transitioned into an open-mouthed moan as Kakashi writhed on your bed.

You set a fast pace, but when you saw his balls tighten, you withdrew your hands completely. Kakashi thrashed in frustration, his swollen cock bobbing in the open air.

“Why’d you stop?” he asked, panting. His tongue was lolling out ever so slightly.

“Because you’re loose enough to take me now, Kakashi, why would I continue?” You maintained an innocent façade that Kakashi could obviously see through but couldn’t question. “Your punishment may be over, but my pleasure still outranks yours.”

Kakashi scoffed, but he was too far gone to successfully pretend that he was aching for your cock, so he remained quiet.

You decided it was time to strip. Your clothes were feeling a little tight in some key areas, and while the contrast between yours and Kakashi’s states of dress was sexy, you had had enough of wearing them.

Kakashi’s stare was red hot as it lingered on every piece of newly revealed skin, as your outfit was slowly shed. It was flattering how much pleasure he seemed to gain just from seeing you strip, and you couldn’t resist blowing him a little kiss as the final article of clothing fell to the floor. Like the utter dork he was, he mimed catching the kiss and then held that fist to his chest.

You crawled over him, giggling at his antics, as you settled in between his still splayed legs. You hummed, running your hands up and down his chest, your fingers catching on his pebbled nipples. “While this view is delectable, I was thinking about a slightly different position for the grand finale.”

“And what position would that be?”

With some difficultly, you pulled Kakashi up and slid yourself into his previous position, kicking the soaking cushion off the bed as you did. When you were finished, Kakashi was now the one hovering over you. You took advantage of your new position and stole a quick kiss from him.

“I think that it’s your turn to make me feel good,” you said, grabbing a hold of your cock and pumping it slowly. “How do you feel about riding me?”

You had a front row seat to the way Kakashi’s eyes dilated at your suggestion. He drew back, and his eyes flickered down to your dick. With obvious physical agreement, Kakashi straddled you, one knee either side of your hips, and replaced your hand with his own on your dick.

He sent you a sultry look, and then dragged the head of your dick back and forth against him, until the head caught of his loosened hole. Kakashi hovered there for a moment, until a drop of his slick ran down your dick.

“Tease me and I’ll edge you until you cry, Kakashi.”

He considered your challenge with a head tilt and eye smile. “If you say so.”

He slammed his hips down all at once, skin hitting skin with a wet slap. You choked at the sudden onslaught of sensations as his wet heat wrapped around you.

“Fuck, you are such a brat, you know that?”

“Me?” He put a hand against his chest in mock offence. “Never.” To emphasise his point, he drew his hips up until you almost slipped out, only to then drop his hips down all at once, again.

“Just get to it, pretty, before I go soft from boredom.” That was entirely a bluff, of course; you were incredibly hard and that wasn’t changing any time soon.

Kakashi did as you’d asked. At first, the pace of his hips was fast, but not particularly rhythmic. His thighs were incredibly muscular and had no trouble holding his weight as he bounced up and down, but you could tell that he had never done this before, so you settled your hands on his hips to help him.

“You don’t have to go all the way off every time,” you explained, holding him still. “Here, try moving your hips backwards and forwards for a bit, like you’re grinding.”

Kakashi tried what you were explaining, and you could tell immediately that it felt better for him, because his face screwed up in pleasure as his slid backwards and forwards on your hips, painting them with his slick.

From that point onwards, he alternated between powerful up and down riding, and sensual rocking. He seemed to delight in avoiding a noticeable pattern, so you could never quite predict when he was going to switch between them.

His gooey insides were your favourite place to be regardless, so you let him play how he wanted to. To retain some of your power, you took to plucking at his nipples whenever his pace flagged. While it was probably incredibly rude to compare two omegas’ nipples, you couldn’t help it. Itachi did have cuter nipples, it had to be said, but Kakashi had better pecs, so it evened out.

Again, you desperately wished James would tell you who created these drop dead gorgeous omegas, but extracting information from her was worse than pulling teeth.

As Kakashi continued to ride you, the squelching was so loud that you were certain that at least one of your neighbours was cursing you right now. Or maybe they were into it; it was a porn world.

The rhythmic slapping felt like a countdown to your impending orgasm, as something burning bubbled underneath your skin. You loved being more sensitive in porn worlds, but it did make it harder to last.

Kakashi was getting more desperate, too. Although his thighs were starting to slow from exertion, he was relentless in his riding. He moaned unabashedly as your knot started to inflate and catch on his rim.

Your instincts screamed at you to knot him. You felt delirious with pleasure, and you needed this pretty omega to take your seed. You needed to mark him, so that no one else, no clients, no colleagues, and no board members, would ever even consider touching him again.

You looked up at Kakashi as he hovered above you. His skin shined in the light, although it had nothing on the way his slick shined against your skin. “Good boy, you’re such a good boy, Kakashi, my good boy.”

Kakashi seized, and with a cry, he shot white ropes of cum all over your stomach and chest, while clear liquid forced its way past your dick and out into the open air. With each shot, Kakashi’s insides tensed and pulsed, and you couldn’t hold on any longer.

You came too, knot locking into place inside him, as you painted his insides white. You came so hard that you almost blacked out. You were more used to the increased number of cum shots now, but it still felt insanely good to ride the high of a good 50 seconds of orgasm.

Kakashi slowly fell forward, breathing harshly, until his face was resting beside yours. He was making a valiant effort to keep the majority of his weight off you, but that wasn’t what you wanted.

“Come here,” you said, tugging him down until his entire weight was resting on you. “That’s it, I’ve got you, you don’t need to worry about stuff like that, remember?”

Kakashi chuckled tiredly, “If you insist.”

You pressed a loving kiss to the side of his head, basking in the after glow as you both waited for your knot to deflate.

“Thank you,” Kakashi muttered, pressing a kiss against your shoulder.

“For what?”

“For staying with me.”

Guilt spiked inside your chest as you remembered the choice you were to have to make.

And of course, right at that moment, your vision faded out from the edges, dousing your vision in black. When light bled back in, Kakashi was nowhere to be seen. James was there instead, and you were back to standing in the middle of the library. You swallowed heavily as your final moments with Kakashi swelled up inside you as grief and longing.

You felt pretty rough.

“Welcome back, human,” James said, sounding quieter than normal. Her voice wasn’t really soft, but it was what you imagined she believed that soft was.

“Thanks, James.” Wow, even your voice sounded rough.

Like last time, James reached out to tap you on the head, but unlike the relief that had followed when your emotions were supressed, this time only made you feel worse as all the emotions from Itachi’s pocket dimension came flooding back in too. It made you feel like you were wearing a head several sizes too small.

You took a deep breath and tried to compartmentalise as much of what you were feeling as you could.

“I know you must be feeling overwhelmed, human alpha, but I must remind you that you will kill us both, along with many others, if you do not make a fast decision on which pocket dimension you wish to use the rest of your life energy in.” She straightened out both books in front of you on the library table. ‘Potions and Magic and Sex, Oh My!’ was on your right, while ’50 Shades of Audacity’ sat on your left.

“Fuck, James, how am I supposed to choose?” You slumped into one of the library chairs and put your head in your hands.

“I know this must be a difficult choice human. You performed remarkably in both worlds, and I am certain that both omegas love you dearly.” Ugh, that did not make you feel any better. “However, one of them will feel right in a way that the other doesn’t. Use your instincts, human, I trust that they will not steer you wrong.”

Your instincts? It felt like they were in a mess. You felt conflicting messages flood through you as your instincts screamed at you for even considering leaving either omega. But you had to leave one of them.

You closed your eyes and allowed your instinctual reaction to guide you. It was a mess in your head, but you didn’t have time to untangle anything.

“When you’re ready, put your hand on the book that you wish to enter.”

“James?” You opened your eyes and stared down at the weird Curator that had been guiding you all this time.

“Yes, human alpha?”

“Thank you for everything,” you said earnestly, sending her a smile. “I’m going to miss you.”

James seemed taken aback, but she eventually returned your smile. “I will miss you too, human. I will request to be the Curator to meet you here after your life energy is gone, so that I may escort you onwards.”

“Thanks James.” You kind of felt like crying, but you couldn’t delay this anymore. “I think I’m ready.”

Quickly, so that you couldn’t agonise over changing your mind, you slapped your hand down on world that you wanted, and everything went dark.

Next chapter

#the quest for a second life #kakashi #kakashi hatake #reader #reader insert #kakashi x reader #a/b/o #omegaverse #omega kakashi #sub kakashi #omega!kakashi #sub!kakashi #dom reader #alpha reader #alpha!reader #dom!reader #n-sfw

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onecornerface · 2 months ago

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Accidentally agreeing with the strawman

Common phenomenon: People misunderstand a famous theory... and then agree with the misunderstood version of the theory.

Example 1: Misunderstand Karl Popper's theory of falsification (or his view of the "paradox of tolerance"), and then agree with the pseudo-Popper theory.

(Okay, that's two examples, but people do this to Popper in both ways. They misunderstand both of his theories, and then agree with stuff Popper never said.)

Example 2: Misunderstand Milton Friedman's "shareholder" theory, and then agree with the pseudo-Friedman theory. (For very interesting discussion of this, see Roderick Long's paper draft "Stakeholder Theory for Libertarians.")

The phenomenon also seems to come in some varieties. Sometimes people misunderstand the theory as better than it really is, and then agree with the better theory-- unintentionally improving on the original.

Other times, people misunderstand the theory as worse than it really is... and then agree with the worse theory. This latter version is weirdly similar to strawmanning-- followed by agreement with one's own strawman!

Sometimes people do both at once. My (very rough) impression is that the popular misunderstanding of Popper's theory of falsification is both better AND worse than Popper's actual theory.

This combination might not be uncommon when academic theories get co-opted by the public. Academic theories tend to be both sophisticated and weird-- situated within a fairly elaborate discursive context and strange theoretical assumptions and aims. Popular misunderstandings of them may well tend to be both less bizarre and less properly contextualized, thus resulting in new pop theories that are both better and worse.

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waytooinvested · 3 months ago

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Forgotten, Not Forgiven - Chapter 23

This and previous chapters are also on AO3

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Lena laid her suitcase down on the thoughtfully provided stand and took in the space that would be her home for the next couple of nights.

The room was decorated in neutral shades of white and grey, with small pops of colour provided by a couple of throw pillows and a large arrangement of flowers on the desk. The entirely of one wall was made up of a window overlooking the city skyline, with a sliding panel door out onto a balcony that had been set with a table and chairs, so that guests could dine under the stars if they so wished. The over all impression was clean and uncluttered, a blank canvas to allow her the space to think without all the noise. Impersonal yes, but that just made it feel like home. After all, Lena had grown up in rooms like this one, and being here brought her back to the part of herself she had been neglecting of late.

This was the first stop on the long awaited launch tour for L-Corp’s about-to-be-released combustion emissions converter, which meant that she would be away from National City for a full week of press conferences, demonstrations, stakeholder events and corporate networking opportunities in various major cities across the country. It was the first time since Kara’s kidnapping that she had been out of town for more than a night or two, and it felt strange to be stepping away now, for all Project Atlantis was still stalled and she wouldn’t have been doing all that much on it even if she had been there.

Well... except seeing Kara. But Lena was long past the point of being able to convince herself that that had anything to do with ‘maintaining positive relations for the project’. If she had been there to spend time with Kara, it would just have been because she wanted to. And she would have wanted to. It was months since they had gone so long without at least a quick morning coffee catch up on the way to work.

But even so, there was something nice about stepping away for a while. Both she and Kara had been working through so many big feelings, and while Lena felt lighter for it, more complete than she had felt in years (possibly ever), it was exhausting. Having seven whole days where her only job was to do her actual job, without all the complicated emotions and Atlantis work on the side would be almost like a vacation (and alright, it was a vacation filled to the brim with press scrutiny, speech prep and making nice with very important, very stuffy business men, but she would take what she could get).

Besides, she was excited about the emissions converter she had worked so hard to build, and wanted to give it the attention it deserved. She had actually come up with the idea almost by accident, while trying to find a way to scrub the lead she had released from the atmosphere. Instead her research had taken her in a different direction, and the end result was a deceptively small device that could be paired with just about any type of combustion engine to effectively capture and neutralise 99.99% of carbon dioxide emissions, converting them harmlessly back into their component elements. It used a technique of Lena’s own devising to split CO2 that neatly avoided the usual high cost and/or energy intensive processes required by more traditional methods, as well as successfully producing pure carbon and oxygen rather than carbon monoxide. What was more, her device could also deal effectively with carbon monoxide, nitrogen oxides, benzene and a whole host of other pollutants, and would beat the efficiency of existing catalytic converters by several orders of magnitude.

Of course it was at best a stop gap measure in the fight against climate change, but if it could be adopted widely enough it could certainly buy the planet some time while humanity weaned off their reliance on fossil fuels. After her failure with the Q-wave generator and subsequent inability to find a way to armour Kara against the trauma of her memory barrier, it was nice to take some time to acknowledge her successes and take another step towards making the Luthor name stand for something good.

From tomorrow morning almost every minute of her time would be filled, but for the next few hours her schedule was clear, and Lena was free to celebrate in whatever way she chose. She considered going down to the bar, or even out to see the city sights, as it was still early, but she felt a strange reluctance to do so.

Honestly, she was just so tired.

Bone achingly, soul crushingly, painfully tired.

A quiet night in then.

She made use of the clothes press to get any wrinkles out of her outfit for the next day and hung it up in the closet, then went to investigate the bathroom. It did not disappoint.

The tub was frankly ridiculous, even by her standards. It was almost big enough to swim laps in if you really put your mind to it, and covered in little circular openings that hinted at jacuzzi jets, as well as boasting a vast selection of tiny shampoos, shower gels, bubble baths and moisturisers lined up on the tiled ledge behind it. She skimmed the labels, then dumped a bottle of Sisley Soir de Lune into the tub and filled it with water just on the right side of painfully hot.

As soon as it was full she stripped off and sank gratefully into the fragrant heat and mounds of silky bubbles, almost groaning as her travel-weary muscles relaxed into it.

God, she needed to take more baths.

Most days Lena settled for a quick shower, having more pressing demands on her time than lying about in warm water, but when she did she remembered just how much she enjoyed it. She felt all her nerves about the coming week melting out of her and evaporating away with the steam as she drifted, eyes closed and hair floating on the surface. She stayed there, doing nothing but experiencing the sensation of being wrapped up in a warm embrace (even if not that of another person), until finally the water began to cool and the bubbles had mostly popped. She considered topping it up for a second round, but her fingers and toes were pruning, and now that she had worked out her tension, her book was calling out its siren song from her travel bag.

She finished her ablutions quickly and then got out, opting to pull on one of the two fluffy robes that had been provided rather than bothering to get properly dried and dressed, then helped herself to some of the complimentary mixed nuts and a not-so-complimentary miniature bottle of Talisker-25 from the mini-bar. The super-king bed was obscenely comfortable, and Lena settled down amidst a heap of pillows to the serious business of reading, luxuriating in the feeling of having absolutely nowhere she needed to be and nothing she was supposed to be doing.

She was only a couple of chapters in and fully absorbed in the story when her phone buzzed on the night stand with a text. She tutted, annoyed at the intrusion into the her brief respite from the world. It would be another nudge from her Head of PR, ‘politely’ suggesting that she really ought to make an appearance at the bar because XYZ important person was there and it would be an oh-so-perfect opportunity for a bit of impromptu schmoozing; or else a panicked message from the product demo team with a last minute crisis they needed her to solve that would inevitably keep her up until the small hours of the morning.

So much for her early night.

However, when she unlocked her phone she found it wasn’t a work emergency at all, and her irritation evaporated immediately to be replaced by a little leap of gladness in her chest as she saw who the text was from.

Kara: you’ve been gone less than 12 hours and I already need you back

The short message made butterflies stir in Lena’s belly as she tried to work out exactly what it meant. If she was in some kind of trouble and actually did need her back she would have called rather than texting, or at least been more specific, so… what was she saying? Lena had time to consider all the possible-unlikely-wishful-thinking scenarios in which Kara had suddenly realised her feelings and couldn’t bear even one more night of not kissing Lena, when a second text followed the first.

Kara: Alex and Kelly are destroying me at game night

Ah. Well that made more sense. And was a much better answer given that she had resolved not to act on anything for as long as Kara didn’t know the truth of their history. Lena tried to tell herself the heat in her cheeks was just in response to the hot bath she had taken as she tapped out a reply.

Lena: How is that possible? You’ve trounced them the last two weeks in a row.

Kara: That’s only because I had you there. You’re like my perfect game night partner

Kara: we are unstoppable!

Kara: not so much when it’s just me. And Alex is being SO smug about it

Kara: I think she’s about 5 seconds away from doing a victory dance

Lena smiled to herself, picturing the scene even as she pressed her whiskey glass to her face to cool her still-burning cheeks.

Lena: Well that would be only fair after YOUR victory dance last week

Lena: And the winner song that went with it

Kara: hey! You’re meant to be on my side here!

Lena: I’m always on your side

Lena: Anyway, who was it that came up with half the rhymes for that song? I didn’t say I didn’t love it.

Lena: And we will make Alex pay when I’m back next week

Kara: DEAL!

Kara: How’s your night going so far? Are you still working?

Lena: Nope – I got all my prep for tomorrow out the way on the flight, so I am being 100% indolent tonight. I just had a bubble bath and now I’m curled up on my bed reading a book.

Lena: I’m not QUITE in my pajamas at 8.30pm, but I’m not sure if a fluffy hotel robe is actually any better?

Lena: I’m basically an old lady

Kara: psh, no way. You have to make the most of a night in a five star hotel or what’s even the point of paying for one? And I bet the bed is SO comfy.

Lena: It is. It’s also HUGE

She snapped a quick photo of herself sitting in the middle of the bed, one arm extended to show how far she was from being able to touch the edge, and sent it to Kara.

Lena: If you were here we could both spend the night stretched out without ever managing to meet in the middle

As soon as she hit send, she regretted it. She hadn’t even meant anything by it, but on a reread, and sent immediately following a photo of herself on said bed, all the important bits fully covered but still knowing full well that she was naked under the robe, it seemed imbued with subtext that she couldn’t allow herself to mean. She felt the tips of her ears getting as warm as her face as she tried to think of a way to minimise it or take it back without making things worse.

Before she could however Kara’s reply pinged in.

Kara: wow, it’s like an aquarium!

That was… not the response she had expected. Lena stared at her phone, brows furrowed as she tried to decode the meaning of the statement.

She gave up.

Lena: Sorry you’ve lost me. An aquarium? As in… fish?

Kara: Yes, because of how many starfish it could hold! [laughing face]

Kara: you know… like when you spread out your arms and legs in bed

Kara: so you look like a starfish

Kara: and because it’s a big bed you could fit multiple starfish on it

Kara: like at an aquarium

Lena couldn’t help laughing. Not because the joke itself was funny (it was terrible), but because it was so Kara, and made all the more so by the elaborate explanation she had given for it. She smiled fondly at the text chain, as if it was Kara herself she was holding in the palm of her hand.

Lena: you’re right, it is just like an aquarium

And then because this was Kara, and she was allowed to be a dork to Kara without feeling silly, she added:

Lena: You could say I’ll be sleeping with the fishes tonight.

Kara sent back a string of laughing-crying emojis, then a fish emoji, a sleepy face and a heart.

Kara: I’d better go back and join the others before they think I got lost on the way to J’onn’s kitchen

Kara: I was only meant to be fetching another bottle of wine, but I wanted to take a moment to lick my wounds and get a morale boost from my favourite gaming partner after my latest defeat.

Kara: sweet dreams, and good luck tomorrow, you’ll be amazing

Kara: I’m so proud of you <3

Lena: Thank you <3

Lena: Sweet dreams to you too, and I hope you manage to obliterate Alex and Kelly in your next game xxx

Kara: xxxxx

#Fair warning the plot of this chapter is basically Lena takes a bath and reads a book #she's very tired and needs a brief interlude of peace before the next problem appears...#supercorp #kara danvers #lena luthor #supercorp fanfic #my fic #multi chapter fic #Forgotten Not Forgiven #commenters you are delightful and I adore you <3

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alwaysonf1 · 10 months ago

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charles in his own way?

Pairing: Charles LeClerc x Hamilton!OC

Genre: Slice of Life; Fluff

Word Count: 2.6k

Warning: N/A

Rating: PG-13

Author's Note: N/A

The occasional big deal Ferrari gala is fine for Charles. To a degree he enjoys these things, the chance to get out and talk to people who he needs to impress and who in turn want to impress him. But something about this season has meant a lot more events to go to. Mandatory ones that mean that even if he feels slightly off his game, he can’t avoid them. And they’re all so serious that he feels nervous in a way he hasn’t since the beginning of his career.

This one, the one that has him hiding out at a small bar in the corner of the massive ballroom, is one he wasn’t even briefed on. All Fred did was remind him it was happening, tell him where, and mentioned that some big investors and sponsors would be. He emphasized that there were several potential sponsors so he should be as charming as ever in their presence.

It wasn’t until Charles was walking to his car that he thought about how little he knew and called Carlos. A useless move since the Spaniard had as much information as he did.

Upon his arrival he was thrown into the lion's den as Fred and then a higher up woman from Ferrari guided him around the place. They tried their best to make it seem like he wasn’t on a very short leash, but he was sure that everyone he spoke to expected a little herding of the talent. Which is what one of them called him and while true, made him feel weird enough that he made his escape as soon as he could.

Thus, his hideout and the rum he was nursing. He’d already downed two and knew that was going to hit him hard enough without adding a third into the mix. That’s why there was also a glass of water in front of him. His second of the night. But he knows it won’t be enough. Charles ate before he came, but he needed more food in him. An added distraction for anyone who finds and wants to talk to him.

He takes a deep breath, downs the rest of the water, and with his rum in hand turns to find a waiter walking around. Just as he faces away from the bar a hand clamps down onto his shoulder. It startles him, but he maintains composure as he turns to look at to whom it’s attached.

Seeing Lando relaxes him. But it also confuses him.

“Mate, what are you doing here?” he asks as they shake hands.

Lando looks at him with a slightly confused expression.

“This is a McLaren event too. Actually, it’s for McLaren, Ferrari, Williams, and Aston Martin. Did you not see the signs?”

The inclination of Lando’s thumb has Charles looking around the room. Several seconds of scanning and then he notices the tasteful banner that holds all those logos. How he missed it and the other signs indicating what was going on was beyond him.

Charles shakes his head. “I was barely given time to breathe.”

There’s a look of understanding that dawns on the younger man’s face. Every driver knows what these things are like. How you’re so wrapped up in making the best impressions that you barely get time to think, let alone take in the space.

“Yeah, they’re like a pack of wild animals. All wanting a piece,” Lando whispers.

There’s a couple next to them that appear like the rich type and there is no need for them to hear and spread what either of them is saying. Feelings in this kind of place are much more fragile than any of them would be willing to admit. Though there have been many times Charles has endured them calling other people’s feelings soft when most of the time the response to their displeasing personalities are more than warranted.

With a tilt of his head Charles leads Lando away. He heads toward an area of the room that is largely just employees of one of the teams. Many of the potential stakeholders are speaking amongst themselves at this point in the evening.

“All of them act as if they’re going to attack. Every question I answer, they have another question before I’m finished. And they lack understanding of space.”

“One tried to breathe my air.”

They both laugh.

“One man was so focused on getting the chance to drive the car that he didn’t realize his father had been talking for five minutes. It was two of them at once and neither knew how to shut up. I’m sure the father kicked him seven times before he finally stopped,” Charles says.

“Oh, I had them too. I think I heard him getting yelled at. Something about being fired if he doesn’t get his act together.”

There was a mutual eye roll there. Though Charles could never remember the names of that particular family it was always the same thing and then they’d see the man again. He didn’t understand how someone ten years his senior still acted like a child.

“Have you seen any of the others?”

“Mate, I did not even know you were here until moments ago.”

Lando laughs. “I forgot about that. You should have checked your phone; we were all with Carlos and he texted you. We all did, even Iman.”

Charles' body went rigid and though he was already looking at the younger driver he turned his neck hard enough to induce whiplash.

“Iman is here?”

A sly smirk forms on Lando’s face and Charles curses himself for having such an obvious reaction. Lando, like many of the other pilots on the grid, like to tease Charles about his very obvious feelings for Iman. He refuses to call it a crush because they always do and it makes him feel like he’s back in grad school. Hell, he tries to ignore the feelings all together when he can help it. After all these years he thought they’d leave, but they stay firmly in place and have only grown since she joined the grid.

“Don’t.”

“I don’t know why you won’t ask her.”

“There is nothing to ask.”

“It’s not like she’d say no.”

“If there was something to ask, she’d laugh in my face.”

“You know that’s a lie, mate. Everyone knows she’d say yes if you just ask. Your banter is a bit gross and makes the feelings clearly mutual.”

Without a thought Charles throws back the rest of his rum and takes a long, deep breath. “You know it’s complicated.”

“How?”

“What?”

“How is it complicated?”

“We work together,” he pauses, holding up a finger as Lando opens his mouth. “I know we work for different teams, but it is too close. Plus, what happens with Lewis, I still look up to him. And Sargeant, he’s made it clear he would kill for her.”

Lando grimaces, looking off into the distance for a moment before coming back to the present. Charles is sure he’s remembering the time the American punched a man because he was less than respectful to Iman. The look in his eyes as he was held back made Charles a little scared of him.

“Yeah, he was definitely going to end up in jail if Oscar hadn’t stopped him. But you aren’t going to do anything to upset them. From what I hear you’ve liked her since that week. Logan noticed it and he was barely with you lot for twelve hours. And him and Lewis approve. So, what is it really?”

A number of excuses are on the tip of Charles’ tongue, but he knows they’re useless. All of them are a bit pathetic when he doesn’t actually believe what he’s saying. In all honesty he isn’t sure why he keeps fighting what he feels for Iman. At one point it was because those feelings hadn’t developed all that much and he had stronger ones for the women he was with, but as time went on and he got to spend more time with her and saw her passion for the sport and honestly everything she was passionate about things were harder to deny. He couldn’t claim not knowing her enough for things to be only superficial because he talked to her multiple times a week. They hung out as a group sometimes. They were definitely good friends.

Another sigh escapes Charles and he reaches for Lando’s drink, but he puts it out of reach and nods his head to the space behind Charles. Even without the mischievous grin Charles knows who is behind him.

With a smile he turns and watches Iman walk towards them. The soft smile that was never ingenuine grows as she looks at him, but then he notices her quick pace and the tension in her face. Concern washes over him, and he scans the space behind her. Most people are giving her just a passing glance or looking at the two drivers, but there is a man who seems to be following her but gets pulled into a conversation. He makes eye contact with Charles for a second and looks away almost immediately.

“Everything okay?” Charles asks the moment she’s in reach.

“Fine. Just dodging a man who believes we’re meant to dance together, and I need one of you to dance with me so he gets the hint without me doing something that James will have to smooth over later.”

A hand on Charles’ shoulders stills him and he realizes he was walking toward the man in question. It hadn’t been a conscious thought, but it also wasn’t one he disagreed with. His eyes move to the hand and Lando takes the cup he’s holding and lightly pushes him toward Iman.

“I’ll run interference,” Lando says.

Then without another word he heads toward where the man in question is talking, and he engages with the group in an animated conversation. He makes sure that the creep is involved in the conversation, leaving no room for him to leave without appearing rude.

“I owe him,” Iman says.

“So do I.”

Charles was sure he said that under his breath, but the raised brow from Iman tells him that isn't the case. He shakes his head and holds out a hand.

“I think I owe you a dance.”

The confusion leaves Iman’s face and she puts her hand in his. There’s a momentary shock when they touch, but to Charles it’s nothing compared to the warmth he feels as he leads her toward the dance floor. Once there his hand moves to her back and they begin what is a simple variation of the waltz, matching the others scattered across the floor.

Minute one of it is a comfortable silence and Charles finds that he’s never felt more at peace dancing in this way. He also notes the ease in which they fall into the dance despite never having done it together before.

“I owe you too.” Iman breaks the silence.

“Huh?”

“For saving me.”

“You would never owe me that.”

“Which I appreciate, but I still owe you.”

There’s an urge to make it very clear how serious Charles is about her never owing him for helping her out because he would do it a million times over. That he would jump if she said so. That helping her makes him feel like he’s doing what he should be. But he’s still fighting himself and this isn’t the right moment. Nor is it the right setting.

He’s also a little scared of her response if he bears his heart a little, even if he can admit that Lando wasn’t wrong.

So, instead he dawns what Iman calls his cocky little smirk.

“I’ll have to think about what I want then. Would be a shame to not get the favor in full.”

Iman rolls her eyes and softly hits him.

“Ugh, you can’t stop being a cocky little shit for more than a minute, huh?”

Charles scoffs, faux offense coloring his face.

“How am I being cocky? You offered me something and I plan to use what you’ve offered me. It would be rude of me to leave you unsatisfied.”

The double meaning was clear.

“You sure that’s why? I have it under good authority that you’re not used to leaving someone unsatisfied.”

Now he’s a little offended.

“I have never. You could ask and everyone would say I’m very good at keeping satisfaction high.”

“Sure.”

“I am!” he softly shouts.

Iman throws her head back and laughs. The sound is music to Charles’ ears, but it doesn’t stop the slight pout from what she’s implying. He tries his best to not be insecure about that and she isn’t poking at that insecurity, but it does call out some of the compatibility things he’d gone over before in his attempt to get rid of how he feels about her. Another failure on his part.

It takes a few seconds, but Iman stops laughing and meets Charles’ eyes with her own. They’re a little watery due to her laughter, but the threat to her make-up doesn’t change how beautiful she is. Her hair is in its naturally curly state and framing her face in a way that makes her look angelic. Charles tries to focus on that and not the way her deep brown dress compliments the brown of her skin and the curves of her body.

“Haha,” he says sarcastically.

“Oh, Charlie, I’m sure you’re good at what you do. I mean how else could you have pulled girls from similar circles so often. They must speak of you fondly.”

That one doesn’t land. It’s something he’d seen on the internet and is a joke among his friends and on the grid. His intentions have never been that and he knows that to a degree it makes him appear as a walking red flag, but it rolls off his back. And he’s smart enough to know that if Iman had an actual fear of that she wouldn’t also have a thing for him. Even if Charles thinks it’s different from his thing.

Goodness, he is an idiot. But that doesn’t matter now.

“Haha, very funny.”

“Aw, you know I don’t mean it, Charlie. I think you’re more of a yellow flag than anything.”

That one gets him to laugh, and he knows they both are drawing attention with how loud their amusement is, but he doesn’t have it in him to care. All that matters to him is this moment because it feels so good. How being with Iman always feels.

“At least, I’m not the one dating weirdos. How long did that thing with Dennis last? Before or after the weird kink incident,” Charles says.

“You promised to never speak of it!”

“I know, but he really thought that you’d never find out about his Lew…”

A tap on the shoulder stops Charles and his attention shifts to Carlos, who looks a little sorry to be interrupting, but also has a glint in his eyes that Charles isn’t fond of.

“Sorry to interrupt. Fred has someone we must speak to and Iman, James is looking for you,” Carlos says.

Iman nods and slowly pulls away, which feels almost painful on Charles’ end.

She gives Carlos a side hug. “Thanks for letting me know.”

Without a word to Charles, she turns to leave, but then she turns back and looks at him with narrowed eyes and her hands firmly planted on her hips.

“You and I will not be picking up this conversation where we left off.”

“Yes, we will.”

And with one last eye roll she leaves. Which means Charles and Carlos are standing in the middle of the dance floor and that glint is still in the Spaniard’s eye.

“Don’t say it.”

Carlos smirks but holds his hands up in surrender.

#charles leclerc x reader #charles leclerc x black reader #formula 1 x reader #f1 x black!reader #f1 fanfic #f1 x reader #formula 1 fanfiction #formula one x reader #formula 1 fanfic #charles leclerc fan fiction #charles leclerc fanfic #formula one x oc #formula 1 x oc #charles leclerc x oc

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mitigatedchaos · 3 months ago

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The Guidestones

(~650 words, 3 minutes)

In symbolic news that you probably didn't hear about, the Georgia Guidestones were destroyed in 2022.

The stones were first subject to a bombing, which did some damage, and then the local government tore down the monument citing safety concerns.

The guidestones were erected in 1980 with what could be described as progressive messaging:

Maintain humanity under 500,000,000 in perpetual balance with nature.

Guide reproduction wisely – improving fitness and diversity.

Unite humanity with a living new language.

Rule passion – faith – tradition – and all things with tempered reason.

Protect people and nations with fair laws and just courts.

Let all nations rule internally resolving external disputes in a world court.

Avoid petty laws and useless officials.

Balance personal rights with social duties.

Prize truth – beauty – love – seeking harmony with the infinite.

Be not a cancer on the Earth – Leave room for nature – Leave room for nature.

Opponents long argued that the guidestones were 'Satanic' (#1 & #2) or advocating for a 'New World Order' (#1, #3, #6).

According to Wikipedia, local stakeholders have expressed doubt that the guidestones would ever be rebuilt.

I find a number of things interesting about this.

First, while they were written in multiple languages, the inscriptions are quite vague. These seem to be "feel good" statements of a particular ideology in a particular era, rather than information that would help a new government mechanically implement successful policy. It feels like an insufficient amount of thought was put into this monument.

You would be better off inscribing the hard-won U.S. Bill of Rights, part of the mechanisms used to ensure human rights in the most powerful country at the time the stones were inscribed.

The Long Now Foundation's Rosetta Disk project is likely to fare much better - apparently they are planning to put one on the Moon.

Second, the monument only made it for 44 years, less than one human lifespan.

There are two ways to view this.

The monument was built in 1980, 11 years before the fall of the Soviet Union, and 35 years after World War 2. The threat of nuclear war no doubt seemed very real. "Keep the population low enough that you aren't all desperately slaughtering each other for survival, and use courts instead of war," probably seemed like a reasonable message to leave for the survivors in the event of a nuclear war within the following several decades.

However, the monument also looked a lot like Stonehenge, which is estimated to be about 3,600 years old. 44 years is a very short time if you wanted to create the next Stonehenge.

The world's oldest bond dates to the year 1624, but bonds aren't automatically preserved. They require an entire supporting civilization.

One of the reasons that the Georgia Guidestones were so controversial is that they are commands for potential future civilizations. The point of putting them on giant carved rocks is to give the impression, in the fog after the fall of civilization, that these commands are either divine in origin or come from some other powerful authority.

As the Georgia Guidestones were already political, a better choice might have been to inscribe a fairly accurate historical record of humanity up to that point in time, including ancient history, the history of the United States, and the history of tribes that had lived in the area.

This would then be an ongoing generational project where another stone is added every 10 years or so. (Figuring out how to describe a decade in under 500 words might be a challenge - but a worthwhile one.)

This version would endeavor tell the truth about the past in order to allow the people of the future to make the decisions on what to do for themselves. It would likely be considered a beloved national treasure, and an artifact of great interest to future historians.

#politics #monday queue #melodramatic mysticism

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minnaci · 6 months ago

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nana.ken · Happy 40 years left until retirement. May our taxes always be correctly filed and our meetings always be emails. Let's impress our stakeholders again tomorrow <3

minnaci · ill swoon

nana.ken · No, don't. Yuor so sexy.

joining in on the fun with a lil min x nanami 🩵

#thinkmin!#minami ♡

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headingalaxys-spicy · 10 months ago

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The Office Cowboy.

This is a spicy one shot that I wanted to make. Enjoy and read at your own risk.

⭐️⭐️🌶️🤠Spicy Cowboy Alfred🤠🌶️⭐️⭐️

The blonde shifted back and forth uncomfortably. He’d been stalking his prey for a while now.

(First Name) (Last Name) He’d seen you around the city a lot. With your friends for Sunday brunches, heading off the bar, or hurrying off to work. Your smile, the way you dressd, the vibe you had etc, really drew him in. He had a burning desire to consume anything and all of you.

With fitted teeth and sweat beginning to form at his temples, he forces his hand to cease on advancing to his sunshine state. You’d strolled over once more to gleefully ask if he wanted another Hors-d’oeurve. The flaky pastry smothered the tender meat of the beef Wellington and the extremely crunchy bruschetta with fresh pressed olive oil and chopped tomatoes. He happily takes you up on you offer. He pops another Wellington in his mouth. Alfred makes sure to show you gratitude with a brilliant smile and a flirty wink. He saw you eyes shoot upwards in brief firecracker like glee. His ears did detect a few muffled giggles that you had to conceal due to you being on the clock. Alfred loved to challenge you to come up with classy but clever quips whenever a large group of his colleagues or your boss was around.

It was a light-hearted game of cat and mouse at yet another corporate office party. He’d seen you on numerous other occasions before book club meetings, art galleries, fundraisers, presentations, etc. Alfred was well acquainted with you through the numerous events that you catered for his company. He got a kick out of being able to see you dress up in uniform. Although many of his imaginations involved your clothes decorating his office floor and, even better yet, his master bedroom floor.

He bit down on his bottom lip. You were gracefully gliding around, asking if people wanted more beer or wine. He looked at that tantalizing liquid that had the ability to drag down even the most refined and dignified men throughout history…. His eyes had a bright flash from within; he’d gotten a devious idea.

‘The best way to do this: take as much booze as possible. Best way to prepare for any rodeo.’

Alfred whistled you over. You turned your head over to him quickly as if already under his command. You let him snag off the ice-cold beer. It would be his dissent into the depths tonight. After all, it was liquid confidence.

“Thanks, darlin’ “ He raises his glass to you, and he flaunts his million-dollar smile. You swiftly said thank you and continued on with your duties.

A few others now seem to have a heightened interest due to the golden boy now having an alcoholic drink in hand.

“CHEERS TO THIS FOOD BEING AWESOME AS HELL!” He proceeded to toss back the beer in just four large gulps. He went on to ask one of your co-workers for another and another as if he was trying to wrangle loose cattle.

“ALFRED! ALFRED! ALFRED!” His co-workers, CEOs, and stakeholders were all goading him to continue in his borderline feral antics. He saw you from a few feet away tending to your own business.

The hunger within him was back and it wasn’t one that could be soothed by sustenance.

The way your butt swayed to and fro teased him like a bull that was seeing red. When you bent over he thought about all the ways he could grab your waist and begin to pound away at you.

The latest wave of beer was beginning to take over. He proudly sauntered over to you like a stallion making first impressions to a potential mate.

“Howdy Y/N~” he teased. He propped himself on the wall that was behind you. You looked up to meet his playful grin. His thick upper arms looked like all they were fit to do is wrangle bulls. His sleeves were rolled up ¾ of the way so you could see how his muscles were sculpted together.

You were unprepared for the Alfred’s other arm to slither around your waist. Just from his bare forearm alone you swore you could feel the heat of the desert sun radiate off of his skin.

“Howdy~” He says again, hotly next to your ear. You were able to smell the beer, perspiration, and cologne that created a musk storm. It filled your nose and made desire grow from deep within you.

“Ha. Ha. What can I help you with Mr.Jo-“

“Aw you don’t have to be so formal with me darlin’ just call me Alfred.” His lips touch your forehead sending a wildfire of red to paint your face. His eyes point downward to take in your beautifully flushed face.

“God you’re gorgeous.” His hand gently strokes your chin. You could feel the rough skin from his callouses and dead skin on his hands. You tried to concentrate on that and maintain your composure as you could feel the heat building in his black slacks.

“Thank you Alfred…. Ha I really have to get back t-“

He tilted your face so it could be aligned with his. His shimmery crystal blues roped around your keen sensibilities and made you weak in the knees. Alfred took his shot and closed the distance between your lips and his. He’d successfully tied you down. Alfred’s far south state was grateful to be poking at your warm seas a little more deeply. You let out a squeak of shock and surprise. Alfred grew in size eager to get you alone and scatter your clothes onto the floor.

The whoops, wooos, and flirty ooooooohs.” They were hoping to incite a live rodeo. And Alfred was normally the guy to deliver on crazy antics.

Alfred boldly gripped your ass and forced you closer to his ember touched rod.

“I want to brand you as mine y/n.” He stated in an ignited fervor against your ear before me moved to kiss the side of your face. He placed a sloppy kiss on your upper lobe. Before you knew it you were being slung over his brawny shoulder.

Alfred rushed off from the main room and made his grand escape for his office. You were his prize he absconded with. Once he was there he made sure his blinds were down and his door was locked.

Your heart was humming in your ears and you were so shaky that it was impossible for you to walk. You eyes caught the bull skull that was mounted behind his desk. It was the only thing you were able to make out before you’d been slammed onto the polished mahogany desk. You winced in pain as a pen accidentally stabbed your back.

“Sorry darlin’ “ He helps to remove it along with some of the other things scattered about on his desk. With one swoop of his arm that was as large as a redwood tree trunk. The clattering on the items on the floor were like gunfire that signaled that it was go-time.

Alfred’s hardened cock met up with your heated clit. The sudden poke of his rod made you gasp. He took this as the right moment to seal your lips with his. He gradually forced you down as he dominated your mouth. You obediently followed with some resistance. There was still fear screaming in the back of your mind to stop and return to your post. The screaming ceased when you felt Alfred agile fingers begin to unbutton your shirt.

“Whoa! Whoa! I …” you start.

“What is it y/n? You’ll be fine…..” immediately knowing what you were concerned about. “I’ll just tell your manager you had a side assignment.” He says while he threw your pants to the other side of the room. The only thing left in his was were your bra and panties. The charming wink he gave brimmed over with shining confidence. He invented your inhibitions within an instant. How could you not? Not when his southern accent got you drunk like having too much whiskey on the rocks. You weren’t able to think of a quip that could save you from being branded.

“Ahhhh!” The intense prodding sensation was back. His penis was already bare and only being held back by the flimsy cotton that separated the two of you. He kissed you starting from your forehead then trailed down to your ear. He bit you harshly at the tip so he could elicit a reaction from you.

“Ouch! Alfred!”

“Easy girl, heh heh.” He shifts you to be fully on one leg that balanced your entire body. Your arms quickly shot up so you could stabilize yourself. His imposing hands move to the side of your panties and rips them from off your legs. The fabric slightly scatters from itself. You weren’t able to see where they'd been tossed. Alfred had quickly stuck them in his back pocket; it was his trophy he won for tonight.

You were ill equipped for the sharp thrust that Alfred made to meet your core. Even though he was only ¼ of the way in, you felt like he was trying to rip you in half with his girth. He plunged himself fully within you to make you scream. When you did he was fully immersed and felt like his head was drifting among the clouds. He adored how tightly your walls held onto his state….completely draining him of any fluid.

Alfred had your shoulders pinned and massaged his way down to your waist back and forth in waves. He was trying to soothe you while he pounded into you mercilessly.

You’d never admit it out loud but you loved the way that he was still completely dressed while he plowed into you. He picked up the pace his hunt was successful, his other hunger was being satiated.

“Y/N! Y/N!” Alfred chanted with boisterous glee. He’s never felt like this before! It was quite the high! He grabbed the other side of the desk so he could completely conquer the whole of you. His knees stapled themselves to the opposite edge of his desk. His drive into you continued to burn brighter.

“Ah! Ah! AH!” Short screeches fell from your mouth. Pain and pleasure mixed together in a desert storm twister. Alfred had you right where he wanted you. Your hands gripped his cotton studded shirt tighter as you tried not to ruin his Bolo tie. You always pegged him for having a wild side… the way he talked…carried himself and liked to showcase his assets.

You were out of breath and so was he. Alfred began to pace himself as he released his seed. He sang out your name in what sounded to be an old Wild West tune.

“Y/N…. y/n….” His lips once again met your forehead, then it maneuvered to your cheek. Like a sneaky rattlesnake he bites your neck with ferocious vigor. You screech but have little ability to do much about it. You’d been branded.

“Your mine Y/N.”

You pass out due to exhaustion. You fell unconscious while Alfred was inside the crux of your core.

#hetalia #hetalia fandom #headingalaxys writes stuff #hws america #ヘタリア #hetalia fanfiction writer #hetalia fanfiction writers #hetalia fanfiction #yandere hetalia x reader #yandere romance #yandere hetalia #headingalaxys spicy writes #headingalaxys spicy

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kaurwreck · 4 months ago

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Seeing people talking badly about bsd anime make me sad sometimes because as a bsd manga reader, the thing that make me read it now was the anime back then. I know the anime adaptation doesn't always follow the manga and novels but i always assume it to be something like, "Here is another scenario/possibility of what could happen this scene/moment." Another way to explore the character more instead of, "We're changing this because fuck you that's why."

Animation and print publication are also completely different mediums, with different considerations and constraints, distributed through different channels, and operating within different regulatory regimes. The implications and considerations for mangaka re: pacing, narrative tools, page space, labor, content restrictions, skill constraints, time for creation, process for revisions and iteration, distribution channels, and stakeholders are not the same as the considerations and implications undertaken by studios animating a television series.

I'm not sure why it's so difficult for people to conceptualize that print and animation are not the same anymore than sculptures and paintings. Or text and successions of images manipulated to create the illusion of movement overlaid by audio.

Thoughtful adaptations are also addressed to both existing and new audiences, the latter of which is further split into those who may engage with the original version and those who won't. Adaptations need to capture the original story enough to make sense and maintain the story's essence for those who aren't going to engage with the original material, without neglecting the audience that has experienced or may follow-up with the original material.

For example, I came to the manga from the anime and would have become bored and likely not finished reading the already animated volumes of the manga if not for the variations between the manga and anime. An adaptation risks becoming parasitic to the original material if it strips incentive to engage with the original material.

Also, the choices made in bsd's adaptations are made under the creative direction of the original material's creators, who are being given additional narrative tools (timing, sound design, animation) to manipulate under different constraints (studio oversight, different content regulations, 20-minute episodes, number of episodes per season) with other collaborators who offers additional and divergent expertise, skillsets, expectations, incentives, creative input, resources, and experience (animators, directors, producers, voice actors, sound technicians). Like, why constrain them to the version of their story where they didn't have any of those things, and why dismiss what the adaptation's other creators have to offer the story?

The audience is interpreting and engaging with the story with limited information in isolation. We are not in a room bouncing ideas with Kafka Asagiri and Sango Harukawa; we are not negotiating timelines and publication schedules and budgetary constraints; we do not know th3 details of the licensing agreements or the prospect of renewal for additional seasons or movies; we do not have for reference the outline of the plot and impending arcs or the intended themes or the full context of the characters' backstories and relationships. The vast majority of the English speaking fandom doesn't even have the relevant cultural and historical context foundational to the story. So, on what basis can the audience justify relying on our initial impressions and knee-jerk reactions to the choices made in the adaptations?

Like, this isn't to say we can't make reasonable criticisms or contribute valuable perspectives, nor is it to say that there aren't layers to stories beyond the creators' intentions or that foreign media can't reverberate cross culturally.

But it does mean any bitching and moaning made in willful ignorance of the bsd anime's creativity, constraints and context is worth less than the electricity consumed to publicize the same on tumblr.com.

#bsd #bungou stray dogs #bsd anime #bsd manga #animanga

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wheredidhiseyebrowsgo · 1 year ago

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Lost Fic

I read it many many years ago, but Peter had a lot of debts to Stiles' casino that he got from his mother, so he trades in Derek. And Stiles has to keep derek to ... impress stakeholders or something? But they develop an intense bdsm relationship amen

You found your own fic! Thank you for letting me know.

Gambling Debts by lady emebalia (emebalia)

(67/67 I 141,004 I Explicit I Sterek)

Stiles owns a casino, Peter has a gambling problem and Derek has to pay his uncle's debts. You know the setup, you know where this leads. Or maybe not …

#teen wolf #sterek #stiles stilinski #derek hale #creepy!peter #lost fic

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formulauno98 · 2 years ago

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Once Upon a Time in Monaco | Chapter Three

Everyone knew that Monaco was a special race weekend but you weren't quite prepared for exactly how special it would be. Glitz, glamour and yachts, you had arrived.

Word Count: 8.9k

Warnings: This one is a slow burn so none

Author’s Notes: Disclaimer, purely fiction, no-one is married in this alt-universe.

WEDNESDAY PM

You arrived in Monte Carlo on a bright and sunny Wednesday afternoon, having enjoyed a whistle-stop tour of Brackley the day before. You'd been pleasantly surprised by your office space, it was roomy and modern and you'd feel right at home there- if you ever got to stay in the UK for more than a few days.

As promised your office was right next door to Toto's, something you weren't sure was a blessing or a curse. The tall Austrian was still an enigma to you, sometimes he was warm and friendly, almost flirtatious, then the next minute a mask would go on and his demeanour completely shifted to cold and distant. You weren't sure which one was the real Toto but suspected he was somewhere halfway between the two acts.

The rest of the team had been brilliant in welcoming you into the role, with endless patience for your questions. You were pleased with the way that your department functioned and so far had no major red flags to report to the board. You were a little apprehensive about the impending UBS dinner but reassured that Toto would be there and that he had a close relationship with one of the stakeholders. They were the sponsor who offered the most in return for the least so an important company to keep on board for next season.

Your hotel in Monte Carlo was the best one yet, with a small balcony with a beautiful view of the famous harbour. It was a truly pinch me I'm dreaming situation.

As you unpacked your phone buzzed, it was Lara.

Hello. Hope you had a safe flight. TW will pick you up from your hotel at 19:45 for the 20:00 dinner. Thanks, Lara.

Surprised he would be driving himself you hurried a reply.

It went well thank you, Lara, sounds perfect. Thank you for organising.

Glancing at the clock and seeing it was just past six o'clock, you realised you had plenty of time to unpack, find an outfit and answer some emails.

——

You'd packed a few different outfit options having done a deep-dive stalk of the restaurant on Instagram, trying to decide what would best fit the vibe and the clientele. It was an upscale hotel restaurant with a panoramic view of the harbour and seemed to attract all sorts, from glamorous tourists to lowkey locals. After much deliberating, and a few texts to your trusted girlfriends' group chat, you settled on your favourite slip dress, paying special attention to your hair and make-up, keen to make a good impression and represent the team in the best way possible.

At 19:40 you decided to head down to the lobby, not sure where Toto would be collecting you from. To your surprise he was already waiting in the lobby, looking incredibly dapper in a navy linen jacket, white shirt and crisp beige chinos. He was a striking man and you could see why he garnered so much attention in the paddock, standing head and shoulders above most of the other Team Principals. You saw him do a double take as he clocked you crossing the lobby.

"Good evening, you look beautiful," he said leaning down to kiss you on each cheek in the traditional European custom.

Slightly blushing you replied, "Thank you, and so do you."

He chuckled, "Thank you. I try. I've parked the car with the valet, let's go and grab it."

You followed him out of the lobby, more than aware that he was attracting curious stares and trying to ignore them.

"I hope you weren't waiting too long, Lara told me 19:45 so I thought I was early," you said apologetically.

"No, not at all, I was early. We're obviously on the same timing." he smiled as the valet went to fetch his car, "So, have you been to Monte Carlo before?"

"Glad to hear it. Yes, I've been quite a few times but I've never stayed anywhere with such a good view."

"Oh really?" he raised an eyebrow, "Well another one of our sponsors is to thank for that."

"Smart move that one," your eyes widened as the valet pulled up in one of the most breathtaking cars you had ever seen. An original silver Mercedes 300SL. "Wow."

"You like it?" he asked, taking the keys from the very nervous-looking valet and thanking him with a stack of Euro bills.

"Maybe." you laughed, "How do I get in?"

That elicited a laugh from Toto who ran around to open the gullwing door for you.

"Thank you, that saved me some embarrassment!" you climbed in, being careful not to flash anyone in your dress.

"You're welcome," he shot you a charming grin, "All in?"

"Yes thank you," you smiled back at him.

He closed the door carefully and made his way around to the driving seat, climbing in next to you. He was a tall man and his legs only just fit, making it a tight squeeze and a cosy fit next to you.

It was a short drive to the restaurant which you spent going over strategy, what you'd like to gain from next year's sponsorship deal and what Toto thought they would be after from your end. He was clearly a conscientious leader who paid attention to the smallest of details. You mentally noted that he was probably not the kind of boss to suffer fools gladly and hoped you would never be on the end of his scrutinising.

——

The dinner went smoothly. You met with your two UBS counterparts and they were amiable to your offers for next year, even willing to send a little extra sponsorship money your way. Toto played hardball and you played the friendly new face, flirting up a storm with the two older gentlemen. This raised Toto's eyebrows a few times, worrying you that you had gone too far at some points. You then reigned it in and successfully closed the deal, contracts would be drawn up in the morning and would be finalised over the coming weeks. All in all a productive dinner and you were beaming from ear to ear by nine-thirty.

You bid the UBS team goodnight and made your way out of the restaurant with Toto. Again, you could feel eyes on him wherever he went, making a note to ask him about this once you had got to know him better. As you went to collect your jackets from the cloakroom he gently placed a hand on your shoulder and asked, "So, do you want to sit somewhere and debrief? There is a place down the street that I know."

Surprised by his eagerness to work into the night you turned your head to face him, replying, "Sure, I'm happy to work on this tonight. Shall I get our jackets first?"

"Excellent." he smiled, dropping his hand from your shoulder, "Yes good idea, it can get cold here at night and it's a short walk."

You collected your jackets from the cloakroom and made your way out into the street outside. It had gotten dark whilst you were inside, the street bathed in inky moonlight. Not sure where you needed to go you let Toto take the lead.

"It's not far but it's quieter than the restaurant. It's just down there," he said, gesturing towards the end of the road.

"Good idea," you said, slightly struggling to keep up with his pace, the height difference glaringly obvious.

Noticing you were lagging behind, Toto turned around, "I'm so sorry, are you alright with your shoes?"

You laughed, surprised he'd noticed your strappy heels "No no it's fine, you're just so much taller than me, one of your steps is equal to about three of mine."

He blushed, "Oh, sorry, I always forget. Not very gentlemanly of me." He slowed down his pace, allowing you to catch up.

"No worries, maybe I'll need to get a scooter if we do any long paddock walks." you smiled at him.

"Not in those shoes though I hope," he smirked, "You look great tonight by the way. The UBS guys were very taken with you."

Now it was your turn to blush. "Thank you, I was worried I went a little too far in flattering them so reigned it in. But glad it worked."

"Well it's not a tactic I tend to use, but I think those guys have trouble saying no to a beautiful woman. Maybe you're our new secret weapon with the sponsors." Toto slowed down as you approached a non-descript set of double doors, partially obscured by a sweeping bougainvillaea trellis.

Glad it was dark enough to hide your reddening face, you weren't sure what to say, "You're telling me you've never charmed people like that? I'm sure it would go down a storm."

"What can I say? Those men just aren't receptive to my advances. Believe me, I have tried." Toto smirked as he opened the door for you, allowing you to step into a rustic space with a long bar, plush red velvet seating and low-hanging wooden chandeliers.

A sharply dressed man appeared to greet you both, "Good evening Mr Wolff and to you Madame. How are you this evening?"

"Very well thank you, Sebastian. And yourself? Could we please take one of the booths at the back?" Toto replied, clearly a regular.

"Glad to hear it, I am very well thank you. Please follow me," he said, leading his way to a second, more intimate room behind the bar.

Sebastian discreetly took your jackets and promised to return with a menu. As you settled into the red velvet banquette you could tell why Toto liked it here. There was one small group of businessmen in the corner, quietly chatting but apart from that you were undisturbed.

"So, do you come here often?" you said, immediately laughing at your choice of phrase.

Chuckling from across the table, Toto replied, "Not often but enough for them to know me. It's a good spot as it's quieter than most of the other places in town but has impeccable service."

"A good find. So what was it that you'd like to discuss?" you crossed your arms, getting down to business.

"I wanted to know how you thought that went, the good, the bad and the ugly. I know you've dealt with sponsors before and I was very pleased with the outcome." he leant back into the banquette.

Taking a measured pause, you echoed his body language, leaning back into the plush red cushions, "I feel largely positive, grateful you were there as coming into this fresh there are always going to be details I am not yet aware of." you took a moment to consider, "To be honest, I feel I could have negotiated harder but didn't want to step on your toes."

Toto raised his eyebrows and leant across, looking at you in curiosity, "How much harder? Do you think I was too easy?"

A little unnerved, you tried to be diplomatic, "No, not at all, it was a great deal but I do think as a newcomer I could have gone in harder. It's harder to backtrack further down the line with these types of annual deals."

"Interesting, perhaps let's test this theory next time. You could be correct, they were very receptive to you. We will have similar talks coming with IWC. I could take a step back?" he said, turning his head as Sebastian approached your booth with a small menu.

"Monsieur, Madame, sorry to interrupt but would you like to review our wine list? Or perhaps you would prefer to order something from the bar?" he said, handing you the small burgundy leather card.

"Could I take a Negroni please?" said Toto, before you had even had a chance to turn the menu over.

Slightly flustered, you decided to play it safe and order the same, "Could I have one please too?"

"Two negronis, coming right away," Sebastian whisked the menu away and made his way back through the bar.

"A negroni man, huh?" you said, raising an eyebrow, "Sbagliato, with prosecco in it?"

Clearly not the most familiar with the viral Negroni Tiktok, Toto looked confused, "I've heard that before somewhere. Is it a speciality in England?"

You laughed, "It's a stupid internet thing, on Tiktok."

"Oh. I think the social media team might have shown me." he said, his brow furrowed, trying to remember, "Maybe we should order one next?"

"I have to say, I am curious to see if it lives up to the hype," you smiled, before adding, "So you're not on Tiktok?"

"No, I'm far too old for it. My children send them to me but I would not even know where to start. Dancing is not my strong point." he said, ruffling a hand through his hair.

"I'm too old for Tiktok but I don't let it stop me," you winked, "You know you are very popular on it. As soon as I was offered the first job interview I familiarised myself with our brand content on every platform. There are a hell of a lot of thirst traps of you and our drivers."

"Thirst traps?" he looked at you quizically.

"I'm not even sure where to begin on this one," you tailed off as Sebastian appeared with two cut crystal tumblers.

As he settled them down on the table, Toto interjected, "Sebastian, could we also get two Negroni Sbagliato?"

You couldn't help but laugh, hearing the phrase in Toto's deep Austrian voice was something else entirely.

Sebastian looked taken aback, likely also not au-fait with the Tiktok, "Sure, coming right up."

As he disappeared once again, you turned to face Toto, who now had a sparkle in his eye. "Don't tell the social media team, they'll make me say it for them."

You grinned, "Funnily enough that was my very first thought. You'd go viral in no time."

"So what is a thirst trap?" Toto asked, "And cheers to a successful evening by the way. Here's to many more," He raised his glass to yours and clinked them, keeping eye contact as was the custom in France.

"I'm not escaping this one, am I?" you groaned, "A thirst trap is when people post sexy photos or videos on the internet for attention."

"What photos and videos are they posting of me?" Toto asked, his eyes wide in horror.

"Various, I saw everything from you smashing tables to your post Abu Dhabi partying antics."

Looking a little embarrassed, Toto made a face, "I can't believe it. And you think this is intended to be sexy?"

Not sure how to respond delicately, you skirted around, "They call you Daddy Toto. So 100%."

At that, Toto choked on his drink, "They call me what?"

"Daddy Toto."

"Daddy Toto?"

Again, his accent made the phrase sound even more ridiculous, "Indeed. I told you you had an army of female fans. Netflix asked you to film gym scenes. Who did you think wanted them?"

"Weight-lifting enthusiasts?" he said weakly.

"I think for that to be the case you'd need to be lifting more than ten kilos," you teased, still not letting him forget your gym session.

"Very funny." he took a sip of his drink, "Well, you learn something new every day."

"I do think we could exploit it a little," you echoed his body language, sipping your drink. It was stronger than you expected so you were mindful to take it slow. "Give the people what they want."

"And what's that?" he said, his voice low.

"Thirst traps of Daddy Toto," you said seriously making eye contact before you both broke out into laughter.

"For a price, maybe." he smiled, sipping more of his drink.

----

You spent the next hour nursing Negronis and discussing the ins and outs of the following day's media circuit. Toto was due to attend a Team Principal press conference with his arch-rival, Christian Horner, and was not looking forward to it.

"At least there is Mattia to take some of the heat," you said, reassuringly, "He has a lot to answer for following Ferrari's issues."

"This is true," Toto sat back, suddenly eyeing up the lineup of empty glasses in front of him, "Shall I order one more round?"

Aware that you were now three strong drinks deep, you knew that one more would tip you into drunk territory, "I'm not sure, I'm feeling quite merry, I'm not sure how useful I will be talking shop if I have one more."

"We're done talking about work, we can have one more for the road?"

"Well, if you insist," you smiled, easily swayed.

Toto gestured towards Sebastian and the older man made his way once again to the bar.

"So, now we're off duty, I want to know more about you. I'm curious, we have spent a lot of time together but I don't know much about you."

Surprised by this sudden line of questioning, you retorted, "Well, I don't know so much about you."

"What would you like to know?" he said, the glint back in his eyes, "I'm an open book."

"What do you like doing outside of motorsports? You have children right?"

"Two questions in one, that's not fair." he sat back, "So yes I do have two children but they're old now and don't want to spend so much time with me. My son is in college and my daughter is due to go in September."

"I'm sure that's not the case," you said sympathetically, well aware that most teenagers don't want to hang out with their parents.

"I do try to see them as much as possible, they're great people. I text them every day."

"There you go, texting them every day, that's an achievement in itself with teenagers."

"They don't always reply," he said with a smile.

"But they send you Tiktoks?"

"That is true, and then I don't always reply."

"So what do you do when you're not with the kids? What keeps you busy?"

"Honestly, not so much. I cook, I try to stay fit, go outdoors, and spend time in nature. I'm pretty boring."

"That's not boring, it sounds delightful." you decided to take the opportunity to dig deeper, "So there's no Mrs Wolff?"

"Not anymore." he said wistfully, "That ship sailed about a decade ago. The children were younger and I worked all the time and was never home. It was never going to end well."

"You can't blame yourself, it's always six of one and half a dozen of the other in these situations." you tailed off, your words unconvincing as you caught yourself thinking about your recent breakup.

"Perhaps." he said, before musing "So, is there a man in your life?"

"There was, but he decided to dive into thirst traps when he already had a fiancé. I had to end things when I found out."

"I'm sorry to hear that, for what it's worth, he sounds like an idiot," Toto said, looking at you curiously. "So did this trigger the job change?"

"Am I that much of a cliché?" you laughed, flicking your hair over your shoulder, "Yes, I packed my bags, left our house and put it straight on the market. If you know anybody who needs a country cottage for a reasonable price, send them my way."

"You lived in a cottage?" Toto looked surprised, "I would not have guessed that."

"Why would I not live in a cottage?"

"I don't know, you look more glamorous than someone who lives in a cottage."

"You're crazy. I grew up in the countryside, I'm a country girl at heart."

"I'll take your word for it," said Toto, as Sebastian approached with your final round of drinks.

"Monsieur, Madame, just to inform you that we will be closing shortly. If you wish to order more drinks please note that service will be ending in twenty minutes," he said as he set your drinks down and collected the empty glasses that were scattered across the table.

"Thank you, Sebastian, can I get the cheque, please? I think we're done for the night." Toto suggested.

"No problem Mr Wolff, I will be back in two minutes."

As Sebastian once again disappeared Toto continued his line of questioning. "So, you grew up in the countryside, but you're not British?"

"What makes you think that?"

"How do you answer every question with a question? You'd make a great politician you know. I heard you speaking Spanish last weekend, you sound native."

"Kind of, my Grandfather is Argentine, so I can speak a little. I've heard you speak several languages, is Spanish one of them?"

"Sadly not, maybe you can teach me?" he looked at you expectantly, his rich, brown eyes heavy.

"Only if you teach me German."

"Deal." he reached out and grabbed your hand, shaking it as if it were a real business deal.

"Look at this, talking shop all over again." you laughed.

"I can't help myself." he took a big gulp of his drink, "I knew you weren't entirely British, you're too bubbly."

"Bubbly? I guess I'll take that as a compliment."

"It is, British people can be dry. You bring energy to the team, much more so than your predecessor."

"Well cheers to that," you raised the last glass, making more eye contact with the handsome Austrian.

"Cheers indeed." Toto finished his drink in one and sat up straight.

Following suit you gulped the rest of your drink down, shivering a little as it had gotten cold in the cool stone room.

"Are you cold?" Toto asked, gesturing at Sebastian to fetch your jackets as well as the bill.

Grateful that he was so attentive, you confessed, "Yes, a little."

"I'm sorry I did not mean to keep you out so late, we have another early start tomorrow." Toto looked guilty.

"No, don't be silly, it was nice to unwind and discuss the dinner. Thank you for taking the time, I know you have a crazy schedule."

Sebastian returned with your jackets and the bill, you shimmied your jacket back over your shoulders.

Having settled the bill before you even had a chance to dig out your card, Toto stood up, proposing, "Right, shall we make a move? Thank you very much, Sebastian, please take care."

Making your way out into the night, slightly stumbling thanks to your copious amount of Negronis, you turned to face Toto, "Thank you for getting that, we should have split it."

"Don't be silly, I invited you, it's normal." Toto was equally as unsteady on his feet.

"Well thank you, that was a lovely evening."

"Shit." Toto stopped dead in his tracks.

"You thought the evening was shit?" you teased.

"No, but I did leave my car with the valet. I can't drive like this. Let me walk you back to your hotel, you won't get a taxi at this hour and I want to make sure you get home safe. The only downside to Monaco is the lack of taxis."

"Oh." your face dropped, knowing the walk would be back up a steep hill, "Honestly it's fine, I used to wander around South London at night, I think I can handle Monaco."

"Please, you never know," he said, offering the crook of his arm in a gentlemanly fashion.

"Fine, you did say you like being outdoors," you said, taking his arm.

----

You made your way up the first hill, around the sweeping vista you had passed earlier on in the day.

"So are you going to go and collect your car tomorrow morning?" you asked.

"No, they'll bring it to me," Toto replied, effusively.

"Oh, that's handy, is that normal here? Or do you do this often?"

Toto laughed, "I've done it once or twice, always after a night with UBS."

"Good to know for next year. I'll have to detox my liver in preparation."

Toto suddenly stopped in his tracks, "Would you like to come to mine for a nightcap? It's on the way."

Surprised by his bold invitation, you considered it for a moment. It had been a pleasant evening and Toto was incredibly handsome and charming. If it had been a date you would not have hesitated but the fact of the matter was that it was business. You couldn't be the new starter who fell for the boss, it would be another cliché.

"As lovely as that offer sounds, I really do need to sleep ahead of tomorrow. It's a busy day and I want to be at my best." you smiled, your eyes soft, "But maybe another time?"

"Understood." he said, a steely demeanour suddenly taking over, "Sorry if I misstepped."

"Not at all," you touched his arm lightly, "I would have loved to, but honestly I just need to be on form for tomorrow."

"Well, I can't fault that. Maybe this was a test," he said, a cheeky glint in his eye.

"A test for what?"

"To know if you're a responsible employee."

"Did I pass?"

"With flying colours."

Not sure if he was joking or serious, you replied, "Thank goodness for that. Next time we don't have an early start let's hit the town properly."

"Deal," he said, looking satisfied that he hadn't offended you entirely with his invitation.

You made your way up the second hill in comfortable silence, with Toto occasionally pointing out various driver's balconies. It seemed as if everybody had a place in Monaco.

"Maybe it's time to trade the cottage in," you joked, looking up at a particularly flashy apartment building.

"Now, that's where I could imagine you living!" Toto exclaimed.

"For real?" you said, surprised.

"100%. You'd fit in well here."

"I guess I'll take that as a compliment then," you said smiling.

It wasn't long before you made it back up to your hotel, the walk having been less intense than you'd expected.

"Well, thank you, Toto, for a lovely evening and for walking me back." you stepped awkwardly towards the entrance.

"It was my pleasure. Thank you for your hard work," Toto bent down to kiss you goodnight, once again showing his European roots.

"I could say the same to you. Goodnight and see you tomorrow."

"Goodnight," Toto said as he turned to make his way back down the hill before you called out to him.

"Toto?"

"Yes?" he turned back around.

"Will you please text me when you're home safe?"

His eyes crinkled in amusement, "Of course. Although I used to walk through Vienna at night."

"Touché.," you said as he turned back around and made his way down the hill.

----

You had returned to your room, jumped in the shower and settled into bed when your phone suddenly pinged and lit up.

Home - TW

Bemused by the formal initial sign-off, you replied.

Thank you for letting me know.

You pressed send, the whoosh noise signalling it was on its way before your hand hovered on the Tiktok icon. You had thought about sending Toto a thirst trap video but then thought the better of it.

Scrolling, you found the infamous Abu Dhabi video where Toto had been pictured partying in a wet white t-shirt. Eyeing up the share button, the Negroni flowing through your veins tipped you over the edge and towards the send button. Whoosh, off it went. That would give you something to discuss in tomorrow's brand comms meeting.

Thursday AM

You woke up early the following morning with a thumping headache. Hindsight was a beautiful thing and if you had known about the imminent hangover, you never would have downed that last Negroni.

Groaning as you got up out of bed, rubbing your eyes and pushing the switch to open to lavish curtains, last night came flooding back to you. You weren't sure what to make of Toto inviting you to his apartment but you were glad you were lucid enough to decline. At best you would have woken up with an even worse hangover and at worst, who knows what could have happened between you and the handsome team principal. There was a spark there for sure but you knew it would be foolish and unprofessional to act on it.

You opened the patio door and stepped out onto the balcony, taking a moment to enjoy the sweeping view of the harbour. The grandstands were already in place ahead of the race weekend as well as a number of extremely large yachts. You were due to dine on one of them on Friday evening, again with Toto, your task being to schmooz some new sponsors. You'd brought a selection of dresses for the occasion and were looking forward to getting dressed up.

Settling on one of the loungers on your balcony you took out your phone. Surprised to see several notifications from Toto you opened up WhatsApp.

This is mortifying. Do people actually like this?

Last night came rushing back to you, you'd sent Toto one of the many thirst traps of him. Oups.

You scrolled down, Toto had seemingly discovered Tiktok and how to use it.

There are more. I look like a fool in all of them.

I'm never partying again.

Or wearing a white shirt on the podium.

Or rolling up my sleeves.

You laughed out loud at his monologue.

Are you awake?

His last text, sent at 2:31 simply read.

Let's talk tomorrow. Good night.

You gulped, hoping he wasn't annoyed. You always got too bold when a drink was in your hand and you should have learned your lesson by now.

You decided against a text reply as you'd be seeing him down in the paddock in an hour or so and it might be a better conversation to have in person.

Quickly getting ready you headed down to the hotel lobby to make your way to the track for the day. As always several other team members were milling about and you quickly spotted Bella, the electronics engineer who you had gotten to know in Barcelona.

"Morning! How are you? How was the dinner?" she greeted you warmly.

"I'm good thanks, how about you? " you paused, adding The dinner was... interesting. It went well but I stayed out far too late."

"I'm good, got here late last night. Funnily enough, I saw you walking up the hill with Toto. I was having a cheeky cigarette on my balcony and heard laughing. He's pretty easy to spot. You guys looked pretty chummy." she said, a bemused smile dancing across her face.

Caught by surprise, you tried to laugh it off, "Oh gosh, we drank a little too much so he offered to walk me back up the hill. He had to leave his car at the restaurant."

"Really?" her eyes widened, "Just the two of you? Or the UBS guys too?"

You paused again, not wanting to start paddock rumours, "All of us." A little white lie here and there wouldn't hurt. You liked Bella but weren't sure how much you could trust her for now.

"Oof, a fun night then? Nice of him to walk you home safe. I think he likes you." she teased.

"He's just a gentleman, I'm sure he does that for everyone." you brushed it off.

Bella looked unconvinced, "I've never seen him link arms with anyone, giggling."

"He was just drunk, he could barely stand up. I was worried about him going home by himself." you lied.

"You could have gone back with him?" she said cheekily.

"Because that would be extremely professional in my third week on the job," you replied sarcastically.

"Ooh, so you would if circumstances were different?" Bella's face lit up.

"Of course not. He's nice but not my type, not to mention he's virtually double my age. Him being my boss aside." you said.

"Sure, sure," said Bella, "Joking aside, I'm glad it went well. I know you were nervous but I knew they'd be nothing to worry about. We're laughing about him but Toto knows the art of the deal."

"Indeed." You replied, somewhat received the grilling was over, you added, "Are you heading to the track?"

"I'm going to a mini briefing first then yes heading down, are you going now?" She said, gesturing towards a few of her colleagues who were nearby.

"Yes I am, so I will see you down there. Nice to chat, we should try and grab drinks on Saturday night maybe?" In your current hungover state, you couldn't think of anything worse than going out but you hoped by Saturday you'd be feeling up to it. You wanted to get to know the team better and Bella was your way into the technical side of things.

"Absolutely, I think the guys were planning something so let's text and we'll figure it out." Bella smiled, "Right, I had better go, see you later."

"Sounds like a plan, see you later Bella." You turned and made your way out of the lobby and into the sunshine.

FRIDAY AM

Yesterday had flown by, with briefing and meeting after briefing and meeting. You had barely stopped and had welcomed an early night. Waking up, you felt well-rested and eager for the day that lay ahead.

Tonight was your potential new sponsor's yacht dinner and you wanted to make sure you were looking your best so had done a fair amount of pampering the evening before. Your dinner hosts were a fintech company who were new to the F1 sponsorship game. Having done your due diligence, you had discovered that the men you were meeting were much younger than your typical sponsors, closer to your age than Toto's so you hoped that they would be more receptive to your negotiations than the formidable team boss'.

You hadn't seen or heard from Toto yesterday and were still unsure how he would be when you did. You hoped that you might see him before this evening as it could potentially be a little awkward considering how things were left. Just as you were thinking about this your phone buzzed.

Are you available for lunch with TW?

It was Lara, Toto's assistant. You quickly replied.

Yes of course, in Toto's office? What time?

You had almost finished getting ready when your phone buzzed again. This time it was Toto.

Are you available for lunch? I'd like to see you. TW.

You'd barely pressed reply when your phone buzzed again, this time it was Lara.

Yes please, 13h00.

Scrambling to reply to both you followed up Lara's message first with a punchy.

Great. In the diary.

You then started typing your reply to Toto.

Sounds good, I have organised it with Lara.

Again your phone buzzed twice in quick succession.

Thank you. Lara's message was short and to the point.

Thanks. I will see you later. Toto's message was equally as short, he was a busy man after all.

FRIDAY PM

You were sitting in your office at the track with a closed laptop, having finished up your morning's calls and emails. Lunch with Toto was any minute now and while waiting for the inevitable knock on your office door from Lara you thought you'd take a minute to refresh your make-up.

You were midway through putting on bright red lipstick when the knock came, although it wasn't Lara as you had suspected but in fact Toto himself.

"Are you off the phone?" His deep voice came from the other side of the door.

You hurriedly hid your make-up bag in case he opened the door, calling out "Yes sure, shall I come next door?"

"Yes please, I've had lunch laid out already." Breathing a sigh of relief that he hadn't seen you primping, you heard Toto's footsteps make the short trip back to his office. Getting up from your chair, you straightened your outfit and made your way to join him.

"Hello." Toto was sat on one side of his desk, an impressive spread of salads and quiches laid out in front of him.

"Hi, Toto. How are you?" You were slightly unnerved as Toto didn't break eye contact as you took the seat across from him.

"Good thank you, and yourself?" He said still not breaking eye contact.

"I'm great thanks, it's been a busy morning but I'm excited for this evening and the weekend that lies ahead." you felt yourself rambling and feeling awkward you decided to address the elephant in the room, "How were you yesterday? I hope you weren't feeling too rough?"

Breaking his steely gaze, Toto smiled slightly, "I was fine. I trust you were too? I was surprised not to hear from you, after your late-night message?"

Feeling slightly like he was scolding you, you retorted, "I was fine, I had meetings all day so I was short on time." Softening slightly, you added, "Sorry I didn't reply, I didn't want to disturb you yesterday."

Seemingly appeased, Toto eyed you up. "That's very considerate. In future please let me know that you are okay, I was worried. I almost sent Lara to your hotel to check on you."

"That's very kind, hopefully, this evening won't be quite so merry though. We'll be in bed by eleven o'clock tops." Toto's eyes went wide, and realising your faux-pas you added, "In bed sleeping. Our separate beds sleeping."

Toto laughed, "I know what you meant but it sounded funny. I think that would get the sponsors talking."

Blushing, you replied, "Not in the way we want."

"I suppose not." Toto looked deep in thought, "Please do dig in, Lara over-ordered I think, there is enough food for at least four people here."

Dig in you did, and you carried on chatting strategy for the evening's dinner as you wolfed down your salads. Toto would play hardball and you would take a softer approach, offering them deal sweeteners such as paddock passes and driver meet-and-greets. Money can't buy experiences that didn't cost the team much at all.

"Thank you for joining me. It's nice to be able to chat and take some time out. It feels easy with you." Toto looked genuinely happy as he cleared his plate.

"Well thank you for inviting me, it was nice to chat too." You smiled at him, before adding, "Sorry if I freaked you out by sending you the thirst traps the other night, I know it was somewhat inappropriate but I do think it's important you know about them."

"I can't say I love them but thank you for making me aware." Toto looked bashful, "The internet is a crazy place sometimes. Why anyone would want me like that I still don't know."

"Don't be silly, have you seen yourself? It's hardly surprising." You tried to backtrack, hoping you didn't sound too forward, "Look at the other team principals, there aren't any others like you."

"Well thank you. I'm not sure I agree but I'll take your word for it." Toto looked bemused. "I wonder if the others get the same treatment."

"I can't say I've ever seen a Christian Horner thirst trap, nor do I particularly want to seek one out but in the name of research I'll have my team look into it." You smirked, "If I do encounter one, I will of course be expensing the therapy bill."

"Of course." Toto laughed, "I'm surprised you didn't ask that after watching mine."

"Oh." Struggling not to laugh you joked, "Don't worry the bill is on its way."

"Watch out, after your Drive to Survive debut you might have some fans of your own," Toto said cheekily.

"I very much doubt that but let's see." You retorted. Toto looked at you intensely and opened his mouth to say something before being interrupted by a knock on the door.

"Come in." He said, still gazing at you.

Lara opened the door, "Sorry to interrupt but Toto, it's two o'clock, I have Dave downstairs for you, can I bring him up?"

"Shit, I lost track of the time. We have finished anyway. Could you please have someone clear lunch and then bring him up?" Toto said, hurriedly stacking cutlery.

"No problem, I'll send someone now and stall him with a coffee," Lara said.

"Great, thank you," Toto said, dismissing his assistant.

"Sorry that was my fault," you said, apologetically, helping Toto to clear his desk, neatly stacking the empty plates on one corner.

"Not at all, not at all, I enjoy our chats. You're the only one who talks to me like I am a person and not a dragon." Toto said.

"So you've said. Well, I suppose I had better head off. Can I take any of this?" You asked, standing up and gesturing at the plates.

"No, no, it's good. Lara is sending someone." Toto waved his hands, "I will see you later in your hotel lobby at seven-thirty."

"Thank you, Toto, see you later." You said, making your way out of his compact office.

FRIDAY EVENING

You were almost ready, having gone back and forth in your girls' group chat on outfits once again. This time you'd settled on a long, red ruffled slip dress that you'd picked it up in Barcelona. You were excited to wear it, fashioning your hair into a sleek bun and finishing the look with some minimal gold hoops. Glancing at the clock it was seven thirty on the dot so you grabbed your clutch bag and dashed down to the lobby where you immediately spotted Toto, leaning casually on a marble column.

"Good evening, you scrub up well!" You said, kissing Toto on the cheek. The dinner was a black tie event and Toto had pulled out all of the stops, looking dapper in a black tuxedo, white shirt and black bow tie.

Toto looked equally as enamoured with your outfit, bending down to kiss your other cheek and taking a step back to admire your dress, "You look like a supermodel."

"At this height? Shhh. But I'll take that!" You said, laughing it off.

"Honestly, you look beautiful." He said, still looking you up and down.

"Well, you're not so bad yourself." You replied, "Shall we head off? Sorry, I'm a little late, my meetings ran late so I had about thirty seconds to get ready."

"Yes of course. If you can look like that in thirty seconds, I'd love to see what you can do in an hour." Toto said smoothly as you made your way out to the valet.

"Essentially this with better make-up." You batted his compliment off, concerned you were quickly getting into flirting territory once again.

"Better? This is perfect." He said sweetly, as the valet pulled up in his classic Mercedes.

You almost had deja-vu as Toto helped you into the passenger seat, this time taking his time to tuck your dress into the footwell.

"Thanks, Toto," you said as he closed the door, rushing around to the driver's seat.

"For what?" He asked, as he started the engine and pulled out of the hotel driveway.

"For coming to collect me, I could have got a car or a taxi." You turned to him, "It's very kind of you."

"Well, it looks strange if we arrive at different times. You'll see as time goes on that our team is a family and we always try to convey that to the outside world, especially to sponsors and partners." He said effusively.

"It really is lovely," you said, turning back to gaze out of the window at the spectacular marina view, "Monaco is so beautiful, I'm looking forward to tonight."

"You think? It is too built up for my liking." Toto said, "I prefer the scenery about twenty minutes down the coast where it's more rugged."

"Interesting," you said, "I'll have to check it out sometime."

"I can show you if we ever have time." He smiled.

"I'd like that," you continued looking out at the view, "So, I'm thinking we lay off the negronis tonight?"

"For sure, I don't think I could stomach it. I'll be on champagne and sparkling water only." He said, somewhat apologetically.

"Don't worry, I think I'll be the same, I don't want to fall off the boat." You teased.

"Yes that wouldn't be the wisest course of action," he chuckled.

As Toto drove down the winding roads towards the marina, you fell into a comfortable silence, admiring the dusky views. You glanced down as he shifted gears and couldn't help but notice how large his hand was on the gearstick, gulping as you thought about the fact that he'd easily be able to wrap his hands around your waist. Not one to miss a trick, he caught you staring, "I know it's an odd gearstick, not the easiest to drive to tell you the truth."

Breathing a sigh of relief that he thought you were interested in the car you replied, "Yes, very unusual. I can't say I've ever seen one like it."

You carried on discussing classic cars for the rest of the journey, Toto incredibly animated as he spoke about his love for all things motoring. You were surprised to learn that had a small but impressive collection of fifties and sixties sports cars as well as a few motorbikes. He was clearly a man who enjoyed the finer things in life without being flashy. His garage comprised of Mercedes, Porsches and an old Ferrari, not the brash Lamborghinis, Paganis and McLarens that lined the streets of Monte Carlo.

It wasn't long before you reached the Yacht Club with Toto pulling up to the valet service. You hopped out, making sure not to tangle your dress as Toto handed the keys over. You took in your surroundings, not sure in which direction to look, never having been this close to so many super yachts. Ever the gentleman, Toto made his way around to the passenger side of the car and stuck his arm out for you to help walk across the floating marina tiles.

"I think they will be somewhere over there." he pointed down one of the outer avenues of the marina towards a few of the larger yachts.

"Not too far then," you replied with a smile.

Just as you started to make your way towards the floating platform an extremely tanned, smartly dressed man approached you.

"Good evening Mr Wolff, Madame. Please let me show you the way," he said, gesturing for you to follow him down the route you had already been heading.

"Thank you," said Toto politely, turning to wink at you, knowing full well that he knew the way without directions.

It wasn't long before you reached the impressive yacht that was to be your venue for the evening. It was one of the largest boats in the marina and was sparkling with lights strung across the deck. Tinkly piano music was already playing and you could hear the buzz of voices and glasses clinking from the other side of the deck.

As you made your way up the ramp you were suddenly not sure of the correct yacht etiquette, knowing that you normally remove your shoes once on deck. You decided you'd take Toto's lead on this one and waited to see what he would do.

Fortunately, your dilemma was quickly solved as Toto knelt down next to a basket of shoes. You quickly followed suit and divested yourself of your sandals. The first hurdle complete, Damian, your host for the evening, then sauntered around to greet you.

"Well good evening, lovely to meet you in person at long last." he stuck out a hand to shake Toto's before greeting you with double kisses.

"Likewise, this is a beautiful boat, it's such a treat to be invited to dinner," said Toto.

"She's not bad is she?" Damian chuckled, "Please follow me, we're waiting for two more then we will start serving."

As you followed Damian around towards the front deck you took in the luxurious surroundings. The deck was immaculately teaked and lit with golden lights on each side. Too distracted for your own good, you tripped up a small stair.

"Are you okay?" Toto whispered, putting his hand on the small of your back protectively.

"Yes, too busy admiring the scenery," you mumbled, a little embarrassed by your slip-up, a tingle running down your spine as Toto's hand lingered on your back.

"It happens to the best of us." He said kindly, dropping his hand and allowing you to continue following Damian around to the front deck where the dinner was taking place. A large white tablecloth-adorned table greeted you, laid out with impressive floral arrangements and glittering candles. Damian had pulled out all of the stops.

The table was set for at least twenty, you tried to count the chairs but lost count after fourteen, with well-dressed guests milling about. No sooner had you come around the corner than several heads whipped around, clearly noticing Toto. He was a man who commanded attention wherever he went and you spent the next ten minutes being greeted and introduced to everybody on board.

It wasn't long before a gong sounded, signifying it was time to sit down for dinner. You searched for your name on the place cards and weren't surprised to see that you were seated in between Damian and Toto. You made to pull out your chair but ever the gentleman, Toto got there first, making sure you sat before he did.

"Thank you, such a gentleman," you smiled, as he settled down beside you.

"I try," he smirked.

———

You spent the next hour being wined and dined by Damian and his team. Fortunately, he was an interesting man and time flew as you chatted all about his business and what he could bring to the table for your team. Toto was engrossed in conversation with Damian's business partner who was sat opposite so you were alone in discussing the logistics of the deal.

It wasn't long before dinner was wrapped and the evening was quietening down. Toto had turned his attention to you and Damian, keen to close the deal before the end of the night. You were glad that he now trusted you enough to take the lead on this and Damian agreed to your terms in no time at all, calling for one more bottle of champagne to be brought over to celebrate.

As you said cheers Toto caught your eye, smiling proudly. You met his gaze and smiled back before knocking back your final glass of champagne. It had gotten cold on the yacht as the evening had darkened and you were shivering slightly in your strappy dress, eager to make a move. Noticing this, Toto began to steer the conversation towards an endpoint and it wasn't long before you were making your move back to dry land.

"You look so cold, please take my jacket." He said kindly as you both knelt to put your shoes back on.

"No, it's cold, you should keep it! It's not far back to the car." You said, your voice shaking as your teeth slightly chattered.

"Nonsense," Toto said, removing his jacket and gently draping it around your shoulders. "Here, you need it more than I do."

"Thank you," you said, "You're too kind."

"It's the least I could do, thanks to you we landed a new sponsor who is going to be a great fit." He said in a hushed tone, conscious you were still on Damian's boat.

"Fingers crossed," you said, getting up and starting to make your way back down the ramp to the marina, careful not to lose your footing. Toto quickly followed, making your way back towards the valet.

"By the way, my driver is going to collect us as I've had some champagne," Toto said.

"You have a driver?" You said incredulously, before realising of course he would.

"Yes, only on special occasions though, I should have thought ahead the other night but didn't plan for the negronis." He said bashfully.

"That's cool, I didn't plan for that either." You said, laughing at the memory of you both staggering back up the hill, "I had fun though!"

"So did I." he smiled, before adding "Oh he's here already."

You followed Toto towards a black Mercedes saloon, the driver hopping out to greet you both. "Good evening Mr Wolff, Madame."

You slid into the back seat, surprised to see Toto follow you in through the same door, making you move across.

"Sorry, this is bad manners but it's cold." He said guiltily, settling down beside you.

"Not at all, would you like your jacket back?" You asked.

"Please keep it for the ride, we'll drop you off first," Toto said, murmuring your hotel address to his driver.

"Thank you, I appreciate that." You said before turning towards him, a glint in your eye, "Now that we're off the boat, what did you think of Damian?"

Toto paused, measuring his words, "I liked him, he's very Silicon Valley but he seems like a good man. I'm looking forward to seeing him in the paddock, he enjoys Formula One and racing, it's refreshing. What did you think?"

"I would agree, he was very down-to-earth. I think he was in awe of you." You said.

"Do you think?" Toto smiled, "I thought he was in awe of you, he couldn't stop staring at you all night."

"That's only because I was sat next to you and was in the way." You laughed, "As you said, he appreciates his racing. He was so impressed that you were such good friends with Niki. He kept asking me about him."

"Interesting," Toto's eyebrow raised, "I think he was more impressed by your red dress but we'll beg to differ. Niki would have liked you, you know."

Surprised by this admission, you replied, "Do you think?"

"I know, and not just because of the red dress." He laughed, "You're very straightforward and don't bullshit like so many other Comms people. It's a skill."

"Thank you, that means a lot," you said, not sure what to make of his compliment. "I would have loved to have met him, he sounded like a cool guy. It must be horrid not having him around."

Toto sighed, "Yes, I miss him every day. There are always so many things I wish I could ask him."

"I'm sorry," you said, lightly placing your hand on Toto's where it rested on the middle seat, "These things never get any easier but hopefully we can get back on top and create some new happy memories in his honour."

"I hope so," Toto said, flipping your hand and squeezing it in his. "Let's hope tomorrow and Sunday bring some success."

———

SUNDAY EVENING

Unfortunately, it wasn't to be, a poor qualifying was followed with Lewis finishing P5 and George P7 in the race, far from the championship-contending victories your team desperately needed. Morale was low and after getting a dressing down from Toto and the Chief Engineer in the post-race debrief, the team were not in the mood to celebrate. Drinks with Bella and the team had never happened and the air was thick with frustration. The graft had started for Baku and you were thankful to be flying out of Nice airport.

Still perplexed by Toto and his flirty but gentlemanly nature you'd laid low during the race weekend, making sure all contact went through Lara. Your next one-on-one wouldn't be until the Friday before Baku so you had plenty of time to get your thoughts in order.

#onceuponatimein...

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