#but please don’t retire just yet!

[designernishiki]

kazumaji nation, if the pairing were to be canonized in y8, how do you imagine it happening? either realistically or ideally. go

[fastandcarlos]

Through The Years : ̗̀➛ Lewis Hamilton

summary: you've been with lewis since day one, and you've got the instagram posts still saved to show just how much you guys have been through over the years

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liked ynusername, mercedesamgf1 and 2,419,593 others

lewishamilton: WORLD CHAMPION BABY 🏆🏎️

291,492 comments

username1: always knew you were destined for greatness

username2: congrats champ 🏆

ynusername: pretty cool to say I’m not dating a world champ 💕

lewishamilton: @/ynusername you’re welcome 😂

username3: IM SO PROUD OF YOU LEWIS!!

nicorosberg: I’ll get you next year 😂

kimimatiasraikkonen: amazing season lewis, congratulations 👏🏻

username4: my world champ 🌍🏆

username5: we always knew that you’d get there…first of many 🫶🏻

jensonbutton: nice to see the trophy coming back to british seas 🎉

username6: cannot wait for you to be world champion for the next twenty thousand seasons 🥺

aussiegrit: amazing season, great racing with you this year!!

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liked by lewishamilton, nicorosberg and 992,138 others

ynusername: apparently i'm a mercedes girl now, 2012 season incoming and i'm here for it, wishing you all the luck in the world my love

32,103 comments

username7: five years on and I’m still so thankful that lewis has you in his corner yn ❤️

jensonbutton: mercedes is the best team anyway 💙🏎️

username8: it’s taken years but she’s finally convinced 😂

username9: if you ever change your mind I’ll come and be a mercedes girl instead

lewishamilton: thank you for always being my biggest fan my love 💞

ynusername: @/lewishamilton always on your side 😘

username10: another world title pending…

username11: lewis doesn’t need luck, the title is his yn!!

nicorosberg: still can’t believe you’re not wearing my shirt around the paddock 🙄

ynusername: @/nicorosberg last time I checked I wasn’t dating you 🤷🏻‍♀️

username12: this is the level of girlfriend I aspire to be

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liked by charles_leclerc, danielricciardo and 1,982,503 others

lewishamilton: yn said we weren't allowed to have children yet so i went and got the next best thing, introducing roscoe 🐶❤️

148,580 comments

username13: omg roscoe is just the cutest 😭😭

ynusername: I already deal with a child every day living with you 😂😂

lewishamilton: @/ynusername stop exposing me like this!!

schecoperez: can’t wait to meet roscoe at the paddock soon!

username14: proudest dog dad ever!

username15: can I also be adopted by lewis and yn like roscoe please???

aussiegrit: how much are you paying poor yn to dogsit during race weekends 🤔

lewishamilton: @/aussiegrit she’s paid in love and affection don’t you worry 😂

username16: YET…there’s hope for the future still!!

valtteribottas: how have you adopted a dog and only just told me now? 😡

username17: roscoe is already my best friend and no one else’s

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liked by maxverstappen1, valtteribottas and 3,491,508 others

lewishamilton: still just as sweet to win all these years on, thank you mercedes fans for your continued support

104,592 comments

username18: true legend of formula 1 🤩

valtteribottas: congratulations, so proud to be your teammate 🏎️

username19: a decade on and still your number one fan!!

maxverstappen1: let someone else have a win for one will you? 😂

ynusername: and I’m still just as proud to see you on the podium as I was all those years ago 💕💕

username20: it’s unfair how talented one man can be 😭

username21: just tell us your secrets pls 😂

username22: all the other drivers wishing that they could be as talented as you!!

kimimatiasraikkonen: couldn’t think of a better guy to be p2 behind ���️

danielricciardo: can you just retire already and leave us alone??

lewishamilton: @/danielricciardo: you’re stuck with me a little while longer yet

username23: no one else will ever compare to you…

hulkhulkenberg: teach me how to overtake like you 🙏🏻

username24: I’m not prepared for the day we experience f1 without this man 😭

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liked by landonorris, lewishamilton and 859,182 others

ynusername: oh yeah...did i mention that i have a husband now?? 🥺

47,620 comments

username25: my two favourite people in the world are married…I can’t cope 😭

danielricciardo: congratulations, couldn’t be happier for the two of you 🥂

valtteribottas: we had the best time celebrating you guys ❤️

username26: how did they manage to get married and keep it an entire secret from the world???

username27: I want to see all the photos asap

landonorris: okay and my invite was where exactly??

ynusername: @/landonorris whoops must’ve got lost in the post somewhere 🤷🏻‍♀️

username28: the ultimate boyfriend material just became ultimate husband material

charles_leclerc: couldn’t have happened to two nicer people 🫶🏻

username29: my heart just skipped a beat with pure happiness for this 🥺

lewishamilton: have I mentioned how proud I am to be your husband? 💞

ynusername: @/lewishamilton I bet not as proud as I am to be your wife!

username30: why do I feel like I’ve been betrayed by not being told this news sooner??

georgerussell63: fyi best wedding I’ve ever been too!!

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liked by maxverstappen1, georgerussell63 and 2,492,608 others

lewishamilton: our greatest blessing is yet to come, yn and i are so happy to share that we are expecting our very own little one just before christmas...i could not be any happier as we start this new chapter ❤️❤️❤️

149,528 comments

landonorris: ah I’m so happy for you two!!

username31: omg this is just the best news ever!!

username32: my two faves are having a baby 🤯

schecoperez: I’ll make sure to pass all my tips onto you 😂

lewishamilton: @/schecoperez I’ll be needing all of them

username33: I’ve never been happier then I am right now 😭

ynusername: I can’t wait for this next adventure with you 💕

lewishamilton: @/ynusername no one else I’d rather do this with!!

charles_leclerc: cannot wait to meet your little one at the paddock soon!

jensonbutton: being a parent is the best feeling in the world ❤️

username34: I’ve waited so long to see this post and now it’s finally happening 🎉

username35: nobody speak to me for the next nine months

valtteribottas: uncle duties pending…

username36: they’re going to be the best parents I can already tell

carlossainz55: I know how much this means to you two…congratulations!

username37: THIS IS EVERYTHING 🥺

nicorosberg: simply couldn’t be happier, the biggest congratulations 👏🏻

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liked by carmenmmundt, alexandrasaintmleux and 729,501 others

ynusername: the best daddy i could ever dream of our little girl having, on cloud nine right now ⛅️

33,495 comments

lewishamilton: thank you for giving me the greatest gift ever 💞💞

username38: dad lewis is just something else 😭

carmenmmundt: I can’t wait for all the cuddles asap!!!!

ynusername: @/carmenmmundt I cannot wait to introduce you as soon as were at a race 😭

username39: my heart can’t cope with how adorable these photos are

georgerussell63: well these are just a little bit cute eh??

username40: thank you yn for blessing my timeline like this

username41: it’s not fair how one baby can be so cute 🤩

landonorris: this kid is too cute to be lewis’ surely 😂😂

username42: you can just tell she’s already got lewis wrapped right around her finger 😂

charles_leclerc: stop rubbing it in how cute your daughter is 😂

username43: ultimate daddy’s girl right here 🥺🥺

sebastianvettel: these photos are adorable yn, so happy for you guys!

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liked by ynusername, charles_leclerc and 1,492,043 others

lewishamilton: everything in life i do for these guys, everything i've ever wanted and more

42,291 comments

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˗ˏˋ 𝐌𝐀𝐒𝐓𝐄𝐑𝐋𝐈𝐒𝐓 ! ´ˎ˗

[cherry-leclerc]

million dollar man ☆ toto wolff

genre: age gap, porn with plot, angst, mentions of drugs, tragedy, erotic literature, mentions of homicide, bits of humor, child neglection, divorced!toto

word count: 16.5k

Toto Wolff, self-made billionaire, is on cloud nine; he has all he’s ever wanted. A beautiful wife, family, a great team. But when that starts slipping from his fingers, he desperately tries to keep hold of what is not his anymore. As a possible solution to cure his blues, Lewis kindly invites him to a place he runs off to when times get tough; to relieve some stress. But he just never expected a cosplaying angel, dancing around a metal pole, to be his salvation. And also, his cruelest life lesson. 

nsfw warning under the cut! 

18+…dry humping/ thigh riding, sexual tension, penetrative sex, oral sex (m!receiving f!receiving), size kink, breeding kink, praise, foreplay, riding

inspired by this and this !

STOP AND READ:

Typically, we keep it light here: occasional minor angst fics, but light, nonetheless. That will not be the case this time around. Because of that, I firmly believe that it is necessary to give a few warnings. There will be mentions of drug-use and homicide and if that is not something you are comfortable with then that is totally okay! I have more options for you to read over at my masterlist! This is purely fictional. With that, this story is based and inspired by Million Dollar Man and Yayo by Lana Del Rey (*run*)—what that means is that this story will not have a happy ending. 

cherry here!…toto is like—a special appearance, here in this blog. probably won’t write for him all the time, but hey! we love him!originally this was going to be named yayo but have since changed my mind to million dollar man. IT WILL MAKE SENSE AND I’M SORRY, ANONS. please don’t hate the villain in me. consider yourself warned. 

There was no room for love when it came to the world of motorsport. Toto’s first marriage was a transparent reminder, given its falling out. The Austrian didn’t seem to care, almost; Mercedes was at their prime, but by then, when Susie came along, he felt a gist of hope. She must’ve known the sacrifices that would be made—the expectations. 

And yet, he sat there, signing the divorce papers once again. What had he done wrong this time? He had given her everything she could have ever wanted—spent time he didn’t even have—with her. 

Neither of us were happy anymore, she would whisper apologetically, eyes trained downwards. But I’ll always love you, Toto. You must remember that. 

Suddenly, he was fifty-two and with no true purpose in life other than to stabilize his broken team. If it wasn’t false accusations from other team principals, then it was trouble with the hydraulics, and if it wasn’t that, then it was losing his World Champion. Mercedes was already dwindling down to a mess, but with Lewis leaving—it felt like he was losing his mind. 

“You understand where I’m coming from, right, Toto?” 

Looking up at Lewis and Penni, his manager, the Austrian sighs, forcing a tired smile. No. He didn’t understand—did not want to understand. But he had no right to prevent the Brit from expanding one final time before retirement. I just feel like I need to do this for myself, but thank you for the infinite support. Mercedes will always be home to me. 

Promises. Fuck them, they meant nothing at the end of the day, so why bother? 

“Do what you need to do. I’ll always be here for you; no matter what.”

It was a bittersweet feeling to have. On one hand, the brunette felt optimistic. Maybe this was a chance to start over, perhaps offer up the golden seat to Carlos or Kimi. They had proven themselves in their own way and maybe that could bring better opportunities towards the team.

On the other, he felt like this was it. Maybe it was time to move on, retire with a sorrowful smile and live out the rest of his years. He could try fixing things with Susie. The thing was, he just re-signed as team principal, so none of that would work out even if he wanted to. 

Running a large hand through his brown hair, he groans and takes a sip of whiskey. Wincing at the taste, he jumps up in alert from his seat when there’s a knock on the glass door. May I? He nods.

Entering with an easy smile, Lewis raises his dark brows in a teasing manner. “Drinking ain’t gonna help, I promise you that.”

The brown eyed man grins. “You have something else in mind, cause if so, I’d like to hear it.”

The Brit hums, tilts his head to the side. Lewis had been with Toto for as long as he can remember; he was there when Toto and Susie met, and long after when they tied the knot. He swore they were happy, and that may have been once true, but he also knows sometimes even that can’t be enough. So, when news came out to their inner circle that the two were getting divorced, he felt sorry for him. He knows what it feels like to have it all, to suddenly go to sleep alone every night. But there was always one place that always helped— even people like him.

“You up for Vegas?”

-

He should have said no. He was too old for any of this nonsense. Too mature. Only, one thing led to another, and before he knew it, he was entering one of the top-tier stripclubs in all of Las Vegas. He knows that while there is nothing wrong with the profession, he can’t help but feel sinisterly dirty. He blames it on the fact that Lewis was beaming right besides him. Maybe if he hadn’t once been his boss, then the feeling would be different.

“Oh, c’mon. Ease up. No one will even know that you were in here.”

It’s true. While the club was a part of the infamous Vegas strip, it was also exclusively exclusive. No one could get in if there was no form of proving to be millionaires, and even that was ridiculously low. NDA’s would be signed as if it were something normal. Made him wonder what kind of things occurred between these four walls. 

Toto chuckles deeply, dark eyes roaming the entire room, loud music blaring. “How did you even know this place exists?”

Lewis winks, lousy arm waving at the bouncers. “You know how everyone thinks Formula One drivers are players and are up to no good?”

“Yeah?”

He smirks. “Well…they’re fucking right.”

After a couple of drinks, a few new friends—who would make great potential business partners—and a bit of gambling, the fifty-two year old found himself having a decent time. The atmosphere was a tad bit suffocating, but one time won’t kill him. He deserved it. 

“Oh, oh, you might want to take a seat,” Lewis chants excitedly. “People get pissed if you block their view.”

Abruptly, the stage lights up. It was a bit alarming, the sudden speed these men took to claim their seats, trampling over each other to get front row. Carefully, he crouches down onto the couch of giddy men. This wasn’t a normal setting; girls were caged behind glass as if to protect them from these males and their slithering actions. A red head professionally swings around the steel pole, black skirt flowing, adding to the illusion men love to taste. 

Whoops and hollers echo the red room as the Brit nudges Toto’s broad shoulder with a wicked grin. “Good, no? She’s my favorite.”

The Austrian scrunches his nose, half joking, half not. “Is this why you were always dozing off during our meetings?”

“Exactly why.”

It was an impressive art, he’ll give credit where credits due, and his eyes were bulging out of his head, but that’s about it. When he stood up to go and order a new drink, a string of boos were thrown at him. Even Lewis shook his head with disapproval. Man, you’re missing the show! He sends a sly grin. “I’m tough to win over, but they’re great, don’t get me wrong.”

The bartender shakes his head in disbelief. “That’s what they all say. Until they lay eyes… on her.”

“On who?” He’s quickly hushed as soon as the room changes gears. The once red club enhances into a soft yellow glow, the fast paced music slows down to an angelic piano intro. 

A round of applause for everyone’s favorite girl—Peaches!

If the fifty-two year old ever thought he’s heard it all; loud cheers from fans, loud cheers for the other dancers; then he must have been mistaken, and awfully foolish. His ears ring with the sudden howls from everyone in the room. Turning around, he’s found with a girl, standing with golden angel wings. A shiny reflection colors her hair as she delicately bows, shy smile sewn onto her pouty lips. White dress wrapped around her figure as if it was tailored for her, and only her. 

Yayo.

The way she pranced inside the glass box like a butterfly makes the men grow wild as they pant feverishly. She’s barely doing anything—hasn't even done half as much as what the other girls had done—and somehow, all eyes are drawn on her like a sticky potion. Toto’s heartbeat gets stuck in his throat as he tries his best to swallow it down. Sad eyes flicker throughout the club as she spins, dress fluttering like a flower in the summer breeze. 

You’re someone desirable in all senses, and it appears as if you know it as well. 

Let me put on a show for you, daddy. 

Dropping down to your knees, you crawl towards the glass as you draw your soft brows together, as if pleading to be let out. Hot breath paints the glass before you press a kiss. 

Then, you’re looking at him, and it’s as if you could point out all the fucked up shit he’s ever done. His heart speeds up as you tie your shiny legs along the pole, sensually spinning as you throw your head back. Like a signal, water sprinkles inside the box as it lubricates you down, dark mascara trickling your features. 

Arms toss your hair back before sharing a quick wave as you step out, red lights turning back on. And just like that, Toto is left empty and alone once again.

“That shit was insane,” the Brits voice shakes him away from your spell as he flops down on the stool right next to him. “She must be new because I for sure wouldn’t have forgotten a pretty face like hers. What’d you think?”

Toto blinks. “She might be my favorite.”

-

Thank you, Ro, you say as you sign on the bottom x, waving him off as he tilts his head in agreement. Call me if you need anything. I’ll be outside, like always. 

Even after all this time, you still got trepidatious. There came times where the connection was completely off, that you just wanted to bolt away, screaming like a baby. But you needed this job to survive, plus, it paid a pretty penny. 

“Where do you want me?”

Once you spot the massive businessman, manspreading on the couch that he made out to look like a toy, you gulp. You had caught a glimpse of him already, basically performed for him, but you didn’t think he was the one who called for you.

He’s strikingly handsome in a way you couldn’t quite comprehend. Dark, untamed hair covers his face. Long nose catches your attention as you squirm. His hands are practically the size of your face and you could only imagine what his thick fingers must feel like. Curiously, your eyes dwindle down to his lap as you picture what rests between his legs.

“Oh, right. Um…”

You grin. “First time?”

He winces. “It was a friend's idea.”

“Hmph. Heard that one before.” Inching closer, you pour a glass of water. “Here. It’ll help.”

His hand swallows you whole as you gape down at the difference. Electricity zaps you as you flinch and he catches on. Bringing the cup towards his pink lips, he closes his eyes, lashes fanning his tan skin. Being taken care of by a beautiful, young lady, made him cringe in all kinds of ways. He felt like a child, then like an old man. To be fair, he sort of was.

“I’m not here for…you know.” You quirk a neat brow. You don’t want to fuck me? Your question has him choking on the ice as he raises his hand up. “N-no, I just th—”

“I’m afraid you’re just wasting my time, and time is money. Have a good day, Mr. Wolff.”

Gaining his composure, Toto storms over to you, grabbing your hand. “I’ll still pay you. Triple what you make, but please don’t go.”

Your cheeks are dusted light pink when you turn around, wings brushing against him. If you’re lucky, you reach his toned chest, but the height difference was scary. Enticing. You almost wish he would fuck you like a pornstar. 

“You know what a girl wants to hear. I’m in.”

Turns out, he just wanted a companion. Someone who wouldn’t pity him. Didn’t hurt that you were the prettiest thing he’s ever seen, either. Narrowing your eyes, you click your tongue. “She said that?”

He sighs. “Maybe I was changing.”

“Perhaps, but that’s what a marriage is for. You change, sure, but you change together. Things can’t possibly stay that same, that’s just stupid.” Tucking your legs beneath your butt, you continue. “And what? Your number one driver decides to leave out of the blue? Even after it was mutually decided that he would stick around at least until 2026?”

That was something no one knew, but who were you going to tell? Toto grimaces. “It sounds bad, doesn’t it?”

“It fucking sucks.”

The Austrian chuckles deeply at your outburst. You blush at the cunning sound. “You’re a terrific listener. I’m glad you stuck around to talk.”

“I’m glad I did, too.” You play with the hem of your dress. “You’re a kind man, Toto. You didn’t deserve any of this.”

-

He slips away that night with a tranquility he hasn’t felt in quite a while. On the way back to Monaco, he wonders if you were some kind of guardian that he had to meet in order to move on from his bittersweet feelings. Because it sure did feel like it since he felt he now knew what it is that he had to do in the upcoming season. All thanks to you. 

“…Toto….Hello?” Bono smacks his hand against the table and the Austrian flinches. They were in the talks of what position he would stay in now that Lewis was departing from his life-long engineer. “Do you want me to continue or?”

The brunette clears his throat, awkwardly. “We have a few weeks of break before the new season begins, correct?”

“Correct.”

He stands up to his full height. “Then let’s talk later. Enjoy your break, Bono. See you soon.” Then he’s walking out the sliding doors, with a dumbfounded engineer piercing his eyes at his large back.

Elizabeth, Toto’s rough voice speaks to his personal assistant. Clear my schedule for the next few weeks. Oh, and also; get me the first flight out to Las Vegas. 

-

Cursing at the dusty wind, you huddle your way into your beat up car, fingers sliding your Dior glasses down the bridge of your nose. They were a gift from a recent client, and you never shamed them away. Taking a sip of your sparkling water, you sigh in relief at the refreshing taste. Screw Nevada for being annoyingly hot. 

Tap tap. 

Squinting your eyes at your window, you only catch a glimpse of a man’s clothed crotch as you yelp. Swinging the door open, you take out your pepper spray. “Go away creep, I will use this if necessary!”

"Warten! Warten!"

“Huh?”

“I said wait,” a thick accent clarifies. You bite back a smile. “Hello.”

Bringing your hands up to your hips, you giggle. “Hello, Mr. Wolff. Back for more?”

He can try and pretend that he was better than crawling back to you, even if all you both did was have a meaningful conversation, but he doesn’t have time for lies. 

“I just wanted to thank you.” Your lips separate, slowly. “For everything. You helped me figure out lots of things.”

“Oh, wow… I, umm… You’re welcome?”

Intaking your soft aura, he closes his right eye due to the bright sun. “Can I take you out for coffee?”

-

You didn’t go out for coffee at a local cafe, but rather at his mansion he just blew his money on without batting an eye. Inhaling the yummy scent, you swoon. “This smells amazing.” 

He smiles. “It’s from Germany.”

“Authentic. How’d you get it?”

“Don’t underestimate power.” Your eyes grow wide at his cold tone and the Austrian laughs. “Relax. I’m from Germany. It’s my favorite, so I always carry one with me. Call me old-fashioned.”

“Let’s just leave it at old.”

He flashes a devious grin, lines tracing his face. “Ha-ha. But seriously, thank you for helping me out of my little…crisis.” Midlife crisis, you correct him as he glares. You snicker. 

“I’m glad I was able to help.”

“Can I ask you something?” Sure, you cheer as you sip on the hot drink. He fixes his glasses. “How did you end up working at Machiavellian Nights?” Your stomach drops. “You don’t have to answer.”

“No.” He nods. “I’ll tell you, because oddly enough, I trust you.” Okay, he whispers. “Are you close to your parents?” 

“What?” Are you? He nods again. You smile sadly. 

“That’s lovely, Toto. Appreciate that.” You release a shaky breath. “My father passed away when I was fifteen and my mother pretends to not know me.”

He gulps and you continue. “It was not always like that, though. We had a close relationship. She would braid my hair every night before bed. I would curl hers before every date. She was an amazing woman. One I could admire.”

“What happened?”

You lower your head, lips wobbling. Letting out a wet laugh, you brush a hand up against your nose. “Men are deceiving. Men are shit. Men are a complete waste of time and— I miss who my mom used to be.”

Handing you a napkin, you silently thank him. “She met him when I was only seventeen. It was fine at first; I was so happy for her. I would be moving out for college eventually, so I felt relieved that she had someone to rely on. Connor was great.”

The fifty-two year old is momentarily lost. Nothing sounds as bad as it seems, but he refrains from telling you so. “Then she got pregnant. Oh, Toto, I was so excited. A baby sister. Could you imagine? I bought everything my first job could afford. Onesies, blankies, pampers, I bought it all. And I never once expected anything in return.”

“That’s where things began to change. Connor swore I was trying to win my mom over and leave Rosie with nothing. Kicked me out before I even had a chance to defend myself. I thought —okay, I’ll just talk to her and explain that it was never my intention to do any of that. But she wouldn’t listen. She gave birth six months ago.”

“And you ended up...” You hum, bringing the mug up to your lips. 

“It was either that or fast food. Salary is shit in that industry. And the customers aren’t bad. I could say yes or no at any given time.”

The brunette fiddled with his watch. “So, you could have turned me away?” Laughing, you nod. He fakes a smug look. “And why didn’t you?”

Tapping a lazy finger onto your chin, you close your eyes before fluttering them open. “I had a feeling you had shit locked away. Just like me.”

-

He bids you farewell, claiming he was glad to have met you, even with such circumstances. The way he hugs you goodbye makes the pit of your stomach fuel with fire as you brush away the urge to climb onto him and kiss his pain away, even if he promises to not feel any. 

Take care of yourself, you beg, head resting beneath his heart. His breath hitches. You need to look after yourself, above all. Oh. And good luck with the new season. 

He wonders why such a pretty plea makes his heart break. Perhaps it was because even though your life was at rock bottom, you still looked out for others. Or maybe it was him, but he couldn’t pinpoint it at all. He wouldn’t try either because as stated before, he was leaving for good. He could make room to visit you the next time he was here for the Las Vegas GP. Even then, he wouldn’t risk you like that.

But like a kid at a candy shop, he finds himself signing the NDA once again. Welcome back, Mr. Wolff. The usual? “That sounds great, thank you.” Taking a seat, he watches the vivid room, hoping to spot you. Set after set, he’s torn when you don’t show up. Others seem to notice you missing as they violently spit slurs of; Bring out the pretty one! 

“Would you be kind enough to treat me to a sweet drink? Paloma’s are my favorite.”

Your sultry voice salutes him like a perfect hug as he looks down to where you bite down onto the inside of your cheek. Your eyes crinkle as you beam up at him. “You’re here…”

“I always am.”

He cringes, desperation humbling him as you take a seat. “Your act…you didn’t go on and I just thought you were out sick or something?” Leaning over to take a sip of his dark drink, loopy eyes train on him before sighing.

“Ugh, I wish. I’m on my period. I asked for the night off, but I’m still up to no good. Make a little bit of money, eh.” He clenches his jaw. “What are you doing here anyways, Toto? Oh shit—Mr. Wolff.” Smiling warmly at the bartender, you hug your red lips around the glass.

“I wanted to see you.”

Choking on the fruity drink, you clutch onto his thigh. He stiffens, but still pats your exposed back. You wore a silky red dress, just like the rest of the girls strutting through the busy club, but somehow, it looked better on you. Enhancing your soft features, tugging against your curves like an envelope. Perky tits begging to be licked— sucked on. 

“Why?”

“I…I don’t know.” You frown. “I have no idea, but you’ve lingered on my mind from the moment I saw you, dancing sadly. Why was that?” 

You purse your lips. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

He huffs. “Think a little bit harder, then.” His firm tone makes you sit up straight, drawing circles on his lap, as a tactic to not pull your strong gaze away. You don’t even notice his hard cock pushing up against the denim. 

“I had just received a restraining order against Rosie.” He deflates. “I’ve never even met my newborn sister and they got a fucking restraining order.” You scoff. “Unbelievable.”

Toto was lucky enough to be a part of his kids' lives, but simply picturing the idea of Stephanie or Susie getting a restraining order against him, crushed him. Seeing you so upset about it makes him want to track down your mother and Connor and yell at them for how they’ve treated you. But then he would probably find himself with a similar piece of paper.

“Just when I think they’ve done it all, there always seems to be more.” You laugh, taking another sip of your cold drink. “They’re getting clever.”

“How are you so okay with any of this?”

You narrow your eyes, offended by his question. “You think I am? Toto, I feel like the odd one out. My own mother makes me feel like a culprit for simply wanting to give my baby sister a pair of shoes.” The brunette furrows his brows. You giggle. “I got Rosie a pair of ballet shoes. They’re the cutest thing you’ll ever see.” 

His lips quirk upwards. “So, you’ve tried to meet her?” You shake your head, hair whiplashing. I called my mom, brought up the idea. I guess she didn’t like it because next thing I knew, hello, restraining order. It’s sick. “They don’t deserve you.”

Your mouth stays agape as you blink back at him, doe eyes ringing him in. “I’m done trying. I get tired too, y’know?” Edging closer to your seat, you cup your hands against his ear, getting a whiff of his musky, expensive scent. You almost let out a moan. “You have kids, right? Were they cute when they were babies?” 

He nods, enthusiastically. “They’re heaven sent.” Your eyes twinkle, and he feels bad for a split second. “Want to see?” He dangles his phone towards you as you beam. Do you mind? “Not at all. As a father, you must know, I like to brag about them.” Rolling your eyes, you swipe through his gallery as you coo.

“Oh my goodness! She looks just like you,” you point out when you spot a blond girl. He grins. That’s Rosa. Flickering your eyes up to him, you gasp. “Rosie.” 

“Huh? Similar…that’s funny.”

Your grin widens. “Oh, handsome. Just like his father.” Benedict, he informs you as he blushes at the comment. Swiping once more, you tilt your head. “Very cute—like insanely adorable—but he doesn’t resemble you at all.” He laughs, throwing his head back.

“That’s my youngest, Jack. He looks just like his mother.” He retrieves the phone from you before handing it back. Squinting, you analyze the older blond. “Identical. It’s almost as if you didn’t partake in the game, Mr. Wolff.”

“Oh, trust me, I did.”

Burning up, you rip your gaze away from the device, trying to erase your filthy thoughts. Especially of him and his ex-wife. “She seems nice. Beautiful, too.” He hums, slipping his phone back into his pocket. 

“I can tell you have a soft spot for kids.”

“I don’t want to scare you off, but it’s an obsession. I can’t wait to be a mommy.” He swallows a groan at your innocent wish. “I would try to be the best; I just know I would.” 

The Austrian rubs his arm. “It’s getting late. Are you still going to be around?” 

You yawn. “I think I’m out of here, too.” 

“Can I take you home?”

The sexual tension is as thick as thieves. It suffocates you whole as you stare out the window of his Mercedes Benz. His digits taps against the leather wheel, legs barely fitting from how massive he is. Head almost touching the roof of his car. I swear I’ll go back to school, God, but please help me keep the last bits of my dignity. 

“How tall are you?” Come again? You gulp. “What’s your height? Curious, that’s all.”

His head rolls back, Adam’s Apple jumping up and down. “Meters or in feet?” You bite down on your tongue. Smart-ass. 

“Feet, if it’s okay with you,” you reply sarcastically. He clicks his tongue in amusement.

“6’5.” 

“Oh my God.” You smile sheepishly when he frowns. “You’re huge.”

“They normally say that after I have sex with them, but thank you.”

Heat rushes to your cheekbones and the tip of your ears. “You know what I meant.”

“Oh, of course, my mistake.” Pulling into your small driveway, he blinks slowly. “You live here?”

“Yes, don’t drool over it, please,” you growl at his rude tone. His brown eyes spin towards you when you hurriedly grab your things. He grabs the back of your dress quickly and you freeze.

“I didn’t mean it like that, it’s lovely, but I just thought…you said you made good money?”

High heels crunch against small pebbles as you scowl at the fifty-two year old. “I want to go back to Uni and I’m saving up, is that so wrong?” He’s embarrassed now, fixated on the empty passenger seat. You scoff. “Glad we agree. Good night, dickhead.”

Toto lets out a quiet laugh. Your eye twitches at the sound. Marching over to his window, you click your fingers as he rolls it down. This is funny to you? “Not at all. You acting like a child is.” 

“I am not acting like a child—”

“Oh, you’re not? Fuck. Again, my mistake.” Grinding your molars, you glare at the brunette. He aims for a soft smile. “I wasn’t making fun of your living arrangements, please, do you really think that low of me?” You look away, wiggling your neat brows. “Come and live with me.”

“Excuse me?”

He climbs out of the car, making you stumble back. “In the meantime, while I’m here, which is not for long. When I leave, you can keep the house.”

You grow light headed from his delirious offer. “Are you asking me to have sex with you in return for a new home?” His jaw drops.

“No, I’m being a good friend. You’re a sweet girl who has dealt with some shitty people and I want to help. Please, accept.” His voice is soft but somehow demanding. As if he already knows you’re going to agree. 

Inching closer, you poke his chest. He raises his arms. “Are you real?” Super real, he states, rolling his chocolate eyes. What do you say? 

“But my things—”

“I’ll send for them.”

“My downpayment—”

“I’ll take care of it.”

“Cool!” you cheer. “Let me just go grab my boyfriend.” His smile falls. Letting out an evil laugh, you clutch onto your stomach. “Ha! You should have seen your face.”

He pinches your forearm and you yelp in surprise. “Don’t make me regret this.”

“Too late,” you yodel as you skip around, back into the black Mercedes. “You’re going to regret it anyways.”

-

We still have to talk about the preparations required for the unveiling of the W15. Please tell me you haven’t forgotten? 

Massaging his temples, Toto grimaces. “I haven't, but also, we don’t have to. It’s all ready to go; George and Lewis just need to show up.”

Elizabeth gasps. “And you.”

“Elizabeth, that was implied.” The assistant hums sheepishly as she continues talking his ear off. He groans. “I’ll be there, don’t worry. You’re doing a great job, keep it up. And please, enjoy your break. You’re going to wish you had when the season starts.”

“Of course. Take care, Toto.”

Once they hang up, he picks up on reading through articles about everything and anything people have been saying about Lewis’ new contract with Ferrari. He was happy for his driver, but it still stung. 

“You look tired.”

Chocolate eyes direct over to you where you stand with an oversized t-shirt and a pair of panties. At least he hopes. “Oh, y’know. Catching up on work. Can’t be gone for too long, if not things get out of control.”

Rolling your eyes sarcastically, you slide your way closer to him. “Can I see?”

“See what?”

Squinting at the screen, your eyes glimmer brightly. “I love all things gossip. It’s my guilty pleasure.” Taking a seat on his thick lap, your delicate fingers start playing with the keypad. He grunts, placing both hands behind his head as his jaw ticks. “Charles Leclerc and Lewis Hamilton: The Unstoppable Duo.” You giggle. “He’s cute. Take it back, they both are.”

He lets out a strained chuckle. “You’re evil.” 

Tossing your hair over your shoulder, you shrug. It looks so soft, he’s itching to run his fingers through it. “I see why you’re upset about this whole—‘I want Lewis! No, I want Lewis!—thing.” His smile falters. “It’s brutal.”

Hauling you off of his lap, he places you on the chair next to him, hoping you wouldn’t notice his hard print. “Is it?”

“Mhmm,” you chirp, chin propped onto your knees. “You must not mind people talking about you.”

“I do mind. I mind a lot.”

Perplexed, you take in his exhausted state. You never wanted to be famous, and seeing him live like this made you realize you had made the right choice. With slight hesitance, you brush his hair back; he sighs in relief. “It’s good to take breaks in between. That way you don’t have a stroke, old man.” His eyes fly open.

“Just because you’re younger, that doesn't mean I’m about to drop dead, sweetheart.” You squirm, forcing his orbs back closed as he squirms at the clumsy action. 

“Wanna feel something nice?”

Toto’s mind wanders to a steamy place once you leap off your chair. His chest heaves up and down from nervousness, hearing your soft steps. Straddling him, you press a soft kiss onto his cheek. Relax, Toto. He nods, grips onto the sides of the wooden chair, knuckles turning ghost white. Digging your hands into his broad shoulder, you begin to massage him at a steady pace. He moans. “How are you so good at this?” Your lips curl.

“I like to think I was a masseuse in my past life, now shhh.” 

The brunette’s main focus was between two things; actually letting loose and enjoying the much needed massage and the urge to slide your panties to the side and fuck you senselessly. Both were pretty good ideas in his book.

“Stop grunting,” you whisper in the nook of his ear as he shudders. You bite down on your pouty lip, leaning all the way back, and his hands instinctively reach out to catch you. His brown eyes flutter open as he admires the way you tower over him, even as you lay back, but also the way your fingers push adamantly against the knots in his shoulders. He growls animalistically. “What did I say, Mr. Wolff?”

Cold stare. “What am I supposed to do, then?”

Grabbing his large hands, you place them over your hips, an inviting smile dancing across your pink lips. Squeeze if you have to. He almost comes inside his pants as you lick your lips once more before continuing your actions. And it almost seems like you want to get a rise out of him. To make him groan, moan, grunt, cry out— for you. 

Purposefully, you dig your knuckles extra hard before pinching down with your nails. He hisses, grasping your sides hard as he throws his head back, floppy hair hitting the chair. You force a whimper away as you feverishly grind against his crotch. That kind of hurt, Toto.

“Fuck…I’m sorry,” he spills out as he starts a massage of his own. You smirk, repeating the same painful actions, pushing him to do the same as before. This was no longer a peaceful massage, you both knew that. It really hurts, you whine as you place a small hand against his chest, hips moving feverishly against his rough pants. The burning sensation makes you let out a pathetic wail as you rest your head against his shoulder. “A-are you okay?”

Then, you press your forehead against his; lustful gaze challenging him while tears cover up your pretty eyes, making them shimmer even more than before. “Never been better.” With one last rub against his slacks, you’re climaxing as you plow your red nails onto him.

Gasping for air, you return to tracing soft circles against his wide shoulders as he’s left dazed and confused. His cock still hurts from how hard he is, but you don’t seem to notice. Or you ignore it. It doesn't matter, because you’re already jumping off him, lips bruised from how hard you had bit down.

“I thought your hands would hurt a lot less, Toto. You ought to be nice to me.” 

Then, you’re skipping away, back into your room like a shy rabbit.

-

After the encounter in the dining room, you pranced around as if nothing had happened. Maybe nothing had. Toto’s mind was probably playing tricks on him because there was no way you could act so nonchalant, hallowing your lips around the cherry popsicle. Is it red? You stick your salivating tongue towards him.

“That’s a dumb question.”

You frown. “Grump.” A beat. “Can I take the Mercedes on a spin?”

“No.”

The frown grows deeper. “Why not? I swear I won’t scratch it. In fact, I won’t let anything happen.”

“Tempting, but still no.”

“Fine,” you grumble, munching down on the icy treat. He smiles, fingers typing against his computer. Can I ride you? His digits freeze midair as he flickers his brown eyes over at you. Holding the car keys directly to your face, you hum playfully. Yeah. Why not, Peaches? Just take care of me! “Of course, my sweet Benz. I won’t let anyone hurt you.”

“You are worse than my four year old.” He inhales sharply, rolling up his sleeves as he tries to ease his crazy heartbeat with water. You giggle.

“He said yes.”

“The car talks now?”

You blush. “That’s what I’m sayinggg…”

Analyzing the strand of hair that hits your chin, he folds his hands. “How did you choose Peaches as your stage name?”

You swallow the last piece of your popsicle. “It’s not an interesting story. I have a co-worker who goes by Foxy because she once fucked a fucking grandpa in the woods and he died of a heart attack once he saw a fox. Pretty cool, huh?”

His jaw drops. “You’re crazy.” Shrugging, you kick your legs up on the armrest. He swallows. “But I still want to know. No matter how boring it may seem. I can guarantee you I won’t think the same, pessimist.” 

Gingerly squinting your round eyes, your lips for a thin line. “When I was younger, my mom would bring me a peach everyday after work. That way, when she would pick me up from school, she would have it ready. The sweetest ones were during summer, of course, but the ones out of season were still pretty good. Up to this day, I still don’t know how she got her hands on those.” He nods. “Simple as that.”

“I think it’s sweet.” His long legs stretch out to kick your chair away. You squeal. “Makes you seem a tiny bit human.”

“Hey!”

He smirks. “Way better than Foxy. That story is just a murder case waiting to be taken to trial.”

“She did receive a handsome inheritance,” you whistle and his eyes grow wide. You snicker. “I’m kidding.”

Pinching the bridge of his nose, he lets out a heavy sigh. “Do you enjoy your job? Is this what you want to do for the rest of your life?” You shake your head.

“Wait, let me rephrase. I do enjoy pole dancing. So many outsiders assume we’re sluts, but it’s not like that. It’s an art, whether you believe it or not.” I agree. You grin. “I have fun, but no, I don’t want to do this forever. I want to be an elementary school teacher.”

“Really?”

You wince. “Seems inappropriate, I know, but I think I could be really good at it. I would cut them slices of sweet peaches any chance I get. I’ll even figure out where to buy some more once the season ends.” Scooting closer to the table, you flick your wooden stick onto his lap. He aims for a deadpan expression. “And I just want to make it clear that I do not sleep around. But when I do, it’s because I want to. I have needs too, Toto.”

The fifty-two year old grinds his teeth together. “I’m sure you do.”

-

Wobbling against the shiny tiles, you gasp before a warm hand saves you. You let out a breath of relief, turning to see Toto shaking his head in disapproval. 

“This is why you should leave to work on time. Now you’re just a mess.” Glaring at him, you fix your rollers as you walk out onto the private driveway. You were excluded from the rest of society, but part of you liked that. “How are you even going to get there?”

Spinning around, you almost crash into his chest before you regain your composure, close proximity making you struggle to find the words. “Toto, I never told you this, but…I can fly.”

“I’m being serious.”

You shrug. “I’m going to take the bus. Go back to your precious emails.” As soon as you twiddle your finger, he scoffs. 

“I would take you—”

“But you’re busy— it’s fine.”

“Can you stop talking?” Beady eyes narrow up at him as he continues. “But I can’t because I’m drowning with work…You can take the Mercedes.” Your eyes light up. 

“Are you fucking with me?”

He wishes he was fucking you, but no. “You better treat it like your own.” You click your tongue. See, you shouldn’t have said that because now my alter ego just grew. He points accusingly and you scrunch your nose. I promise. Handing you his keys, he watches carefully as you pull away, blowing him a kiss. 

A few hours pass by before he feels the need to check up on you. He tries texting first. Busy night? Nothing. He tries calling. Nothing. He starts thinking you might've crashed on your way there, so he hurries out the door. 

Paying the taxi driver, he marches past the doors as he is handed a piece of paper. He smiles back politely. “Don’t you guys think we’re past this?” The men take a quick glance at each other before nodding. Have a lovely night, Mr. Wolff. 

Loud music makes the brunette wince, face twisting uncomfortably. Brown eyes study the club as he tries to decipher where you could possibly be. Maybe you didn’t make it and he was right after all. Jogging over to the bartender, Toto pants. “Peaches? Have you seen her?” 

The young man points to the glass box, where you start your set. He sighs in relief as he takes a seat, rolling up his sleeves as he admires. Everyone cheers as you smile erotically. The Austrian can’t help but be one of them too. 

Spotting him, you freeze. You narrow your eyes for a split second before you snap out of it, continuing your desirable movements. The music ends and just like that, you’re done. Hollering echoes the room when you brush past by. 

“What are you doing here?” 

A cheesy grin plays out. “I came to see you.” Weren’t you busy with work? He shakes his head. “Well, yes actually, but I thought you were dead in a ditch when you didn’t reply to my message or answer any of my calls.”

“Why could that be? Oh. Maybe because I’m working,” you hiss. “Listen, if you’re here as a client— fine. But if you’re here as Toto— leave.”

He narrows his eyes sharply and your breath hitches. “It’s Mr. Wolff, darling.”

You purse your lips. “Very well, Mr. Wolff.” Strutting away, you make sure you sway your hips. The brunette groans, falling back against his chair. 

The night flies by as usual, until they book you. “Mr. Straforx, sitting in the back booth,” Ro informs you as you suck on your bottom lip, listening attentively. “Interested?” 

“Very.”

“Actually, I am too.”

The rich accent makes your stomach flip as you muster up a stern glare. Toto’s lips form a firm line as he stands as tall as a sequoia. Fuming, you shake your head, perfectly done hair slapping your face. “I’m so sorry, Mr. Wolff, but I already agreed to somebody else. But rest assured, if I have time left, then I will get to you.”

“Is money the issue here?”

Your jaw ticks, temples grinding together harshly. “You think that’s all I care about?”

He shrugs. “I could lie and say no, but who am I kidding? We all care about money.”

Flustered, you scoot closer to Ro, who stands amused with the entire interaction. “Ro, tell Mr. Straforx that I’ll be there in a minute, and make sure to apologize on my behalf.” The older man nods, tipping his head towards the Austrian as he strolls away. “What are you trying to do, Toto?”

His lips flip to a teasing smile. “Mr. Wolff.”

“Oh, don’t you dare pull that card on me.” Your face pinches up. “This is an important client, I can’t say no.”

“How much do you want in order for you to come with me instead of him?” Your berry lips separate. “Name a price. I’m a self-made billionaire, sweetheart—a couple of millions are nothing to me.”

“I could never ask for you to do that,” you whisper, timidly fiddling with your necklace. “Deal with it. You’re not my boyfriend.”

His nose flares at the cruel reminder. “I never claimed to be. I’m a client.” Pause. “Two million.”

You gasp. “Are you insane?”

“You’re right, that’s childsplay. How about five?” When you still don’t say anything, he grins devilishly as he places a large hand on the lower part of your back. “Ro! Yeah, tell Me. Straforx that she’s coming with me. I’ll give you a bonus, don’t worry.” Your friend nodded happily. Press the button if you need anything. 

You roll your eyes, sourly. “Thank you, Ro. Thank you so much.” Pushing you into the private room, you yelp. “Let go of me!”

The brunette scoffs. “Calm down, I was barely even touching you.”

Shivering, you focus your attention on the luxurious drinking options. Half of these were probably worth what you make in a year, but the rich fed off of that. The brown eyed man hums. “Is that something you’re interested in?” You quirk a brow. A drink? He shakes his head. “Do you want me to touch you?”

You blink up at him swiftly, rubbing your thighs together. “You’re reading into it. I don’t.” Digging his large hands into his pockets, he clicks his tongue. Okay. Then ask me to leave. We can pretend none of this ever happened. A sad whine bubbles up your throat as you fear that he might actually walk out if you even dared to imply. “Just don’t be a jerk.”

A threatening chuckles booms past his lips as he serves himself a drink you can’t even pronounce. He takes a slow sip before he raises his glass up towards you. “You’re getting to me a  bit more than I’d like to admit. I mean, you must know that, right?” Demented, you play with your dress. 

Tonight, you were cosplaying a wide-eyed devil. There was nothing threatening about your appearance, not if you didn’t count your crimson red lips. Plump, round, tempting. Your black gartner drives him to complete insanity as you bite down on your bottom lip, nervously. Your red dress is too short for his liking, but only because others get to enjoy the sight of your heavenly legs. The ones he was drooling over to nuzzle his face in between. Then your horns tussle your hair messily as you pant. He hasn’t even touched you and you were already dripping.

“That’s not true, Mr. Wolff.” The grin widens.. 

“You can call me Toto when we’re alone, sweetheart.” You shiver, lowering your gaze. No, you were right. It has to stay professional in this setting. The brunette rolls his tongue before squinting his eyes at you, fine lines forming. The sight alone makes you melt. “You should have thought about that before you came all over my thigh.”

Shocked at his vulgar words, you bat your eyes, flustered by the reminder. You had done that. But you had the upper hand that day and that was long gone as he towered over you. Inching closer, he drops down to his knees, him still appearing taller even with the action. You squirm. 

“You were not playing fair that day. How come you only got to finish, and I didn’t?” You were hurting me, you cry out like a child as he scoffs at your weak attempt. Tugging you closer to him by your smooth legs, he droops them over his wide shoulders. Oh God. Turning his head to the side, he presses warm kisses. Your skin burns with every single one. “You know that’s not true.” Then, he’s hiking your tiny dress up.

Toto is hit with instant lust as he spots the wet patch of arousal. You whine, legs shutting around him. Do something—anything—but please, touch me. The corner of his lips lift up as he bites onto your red undergarment, pulling it down. Oh, you sigh at the intimate vision. Once you’re on full display, he groans. Your pussy glistens back at him, begging to be stretched out. “You’re…”

Humming, you place your soft palm against his cheek. “Toto…”

Like a starved man, he dives in, lips sucking on your clit as you fly forward, eyes screwed shut. He eats you out as if this was his true calling in life, the way he pinches your hips when you rock yourself against his face. He’s enjoying every second, every drop, as you find pleasure with the way his tongue swirls inside of you, finding new places you didn't know existed. The brunette nips quickly as you gasp, then he strikes his tongue. Warm sensation settles inside of your stomach. T-toto, holy fuck, oh my God. 

You can feel the way he grins against your pussy as he continues his handy work. Slurping your juices, his dark eyes find yours as you pant, light sweat fanning your face. His large hand presses your dress down, further adding to the friction as your tummy is pushed down as well. Wailing, you writher an embarrassing amount that would normally have you pouring out apologies if it weren’t for his strong gaze. 

“Taste so sweet,” he chants, kitten licks taking place. Your head rolls back against the couch, hand clutching onto his hair as he grunts. “Open your eyes for me, schatzi.” But you’re too busy trying to make this moment last, ignoring his command. Pressing his nose against your small hole, you squeal and look down. A coy expression takes over as he pulls away and rubs his fingers against your puffy clit. 

“You s-so fucking good at this,” you pant, chest rises up and down, horns sliding down a bit before he extends his long arm, pushing it back. Your chest tightens. “I know what you’re going to do…Go easy, please.”

Taunting circles edge you further as he bites the squishy part of his cheek. “What am I going to do?”

“You’re going to try and make your fingers fit.”

Your words come out menacing as you scrunch your eyebrows together, a worried look clear to the Austrian. Kissing the inside of your thigh, he nods. “You’re an extremely smart girl.” Another kiss. “I’ll go slow. You won’t even feel any discomfort, just pleasure.”

“Wait!”

Panic strikes his face as you disconnect his left hand from your breast. Bringing his hand up, you inspect the wedding band. Why are you still wearing this? He groans. “Publicity. No one knows yet. They won’t know for a while, so I can’t take it off until then.” You hum, then slide his ring finger into your mouth. You can taste yourself, long digits immediately hitting the back of your throat as you gag. “What are you—”

Then he feels it. Your soft tongue and the way it lubricated the steel before you gently bit down and started pulling his hand back. His cock grows more pained from how hard he’s become. With a pop you smile, eyes crinkling as you show off the metal. “Better.”

“You’re…” I know, you seductively whisper as you return his hand to where it laid. Is that not what you like about me? The man practically growls as he slams two thick fingers inside of you. Your body jolts as you cry out. So good, Toto. His cock twitches at you ragged praises. His fingers barely even fit inside your tiny hole, but it sure as hell reaches your g-spot. White splotches burn your eyes as you dig your nails onto the side of his thick neck. 

“Just like that. Oh, Toto.” He adds a third finger, and you hiss at the burning sensation. “That’s too much! Fuck.” He makes up for it, drawing figure 8’s between your velvety walls as you open up to him. Your legs start to slip down his shoulders as he spits. Keep them in place. You whimper, but obey, nonetheless.

The pad of his fingers continue assaulting your sweet spot, curling at a perfect angle. Your moans grow louder. Chocolate eyes flicker up to face your fucked up state. “Close?” You nod, vigorously. A warm strip teases your slippery lips. “Good. You’re doing so good, Peaches.”

Your hips buck suddenly as you suffocate him with your body, but he doesn’t seem to mind at all. Picking up on your candy nectar, he groans like a madman, greedy tongue swiping to lick every last drop. Shuddering at the feeling, you push his head away from in between your legs and grab him by the collar. For a second, he thinks you might kiss him, but when you don’t he realizes he’s disappointed. Instead, you plant a kiss on his cheek, hot breaths wrapping around his skin.

“Guess that makes us even, Mr. Wolff.”

-

“And then I rode a pony! I begged mama to let me get on a horse instead, but I just got a good scolding. But you would’ve let me, right papa?” Toto theatrically grins at Jack. 

“Don’t tell her, but yes. I would have let you because you're a big boy now, aren't you?” The four year old nods, blond hair covering his eyes as he brushes it away with powdered hands from his donut. I miss you. When are you coming back?

Pressure tugs at the Austrians chest as he sighs. Jack was too young—he wouldn’t understand that he and Susie would no longer be living together. It was a mutual decision to tell him when the time was right, but it still killed him to lie to his son. Especially when he beams back with bright eyes. Toto winces. “Soon.” A pin drops. “Have you eaten your vegetables for the day?” Jack sprints away.

A soft laugh is heard from the other side of the screen as Susie comes to view. “He has not, by the way. Hi, Toto.” The brunette waves. “Are you actually busy with work or are you trying to forget about all your fatherly duties?” 

“Is it that obvious?”

The blond chuckles. “Whatever it is, it’s great that you’ve taken time to yourself. Just don’t take too long.” Signing off, the fifty-two year old is left staring at his own reflection. 

“He’s cuter than the pictures.” Toto flinches with surprise. Standing in a summer dress, you lick your lollipop. “His voice is super squeaky; it’s adorable.”

“Do you need something?”

His question may seem rude, but it’s not meant to come off as so. His voice is filled with genuine concern as he furrows his brows. You shake your head. “I’m bored, that's all.”

The brunette scoffs. “And by all means, you came to bother me.” A giggle dances out of you as you brush your hair back. Your sweet scent reaches him, even though you stand far enough away to make a run for the hills. “But I do have time. What do you have in mind?”

“I want to talk to my mom.” Your words shock him but he listens attentively, watching you as you sit on top of the table, legs swinging with rigidness. “I want to try and fix things.” He frowns. But you’ve done nothing wrong. You shift in an uncomfortable manner. “Well…”

“What did you do?”

“Remember how I got a restraining order, but I’ve never stepped close to Rosie?” He nods. You nibble on your thumb. “I s-sort of lied.”

“What do you mean?”

“I mean I’ve met her, kind of…” You pout, hazed expression carving out through your doll features. “But I can explain.”

He sighs. “Please do.”

Your cheeks flush. “A few weeks before I met you, Connor called me. And I picked up. He told me he was willing to let me meet my sister, but only if I let him borrow fifty grand. To be honest, I don’t care if I never get my money back— I just wanted to be able to recognize Rosie’s face. Of course I said yes.” The Austrian listens carefully, loopy eyes dedicated to you. “I bought her ballet shoes, the one’s I told you about.”

“She was perfect. She giggled like the most angelic thing and her eyes crinkled in a way that made me love her instantly. I asked why Connor needed the money and if they were in trouble, but he only ignored me. Then he tried to kiss me.”

“He what?”

A timid smile plays out. “It’s okay, he does that sometimes, but I’m always able to push him off because most of the time he’s drunk out of his mind. I don’t normally care, but he had Rosie… What if because of some stupid mistake he put her in danger? I gave Rosie her gift and paid an Uber to take them back home.”

“My mom found out about the meet-up and marched right to my work. Don’t ask me how she got in. She yelled at me with such anger that I almost wanted to cry. She said I wanted to steal both Rosie and Connor from her. I promised that wasn’t true, but she didn’t care. Then I got my restraining order.”

The brunette’s words get stuck as he gapes at you. Clearing his throat, he drums his fingers against the table. “You should have told me the truth,” he begins. Hurt slashes your face—you thought he would understand. He offers a friendly smile. “But still…you’ve done nothing wrong.” A beat. “I can help you. Well, my lawyers can.”

Tears form inside your jello eyes. “Are you serious?”

He nods. “Your sister can’t grow up in a household that doesn’t want her, but keeps her just to twist the knife. Connor will pay for what he’s done to you.” Leaping off the table, you cross your arms. No. You can’t bring that up. He sends a sharp glare. “What he did was wrong, can’t you see?” Your bottom lip wobbles. She’s going to hate me even more. Tenderly, he sighs as he strolls over, cupping your face. “She shouldn’t, but if she does, at least you’ll be free from him. Has he only tried to kiss you?”

Closing your eyes, you release a wet breath. “He’s touched me a couple of times.” The Austrains eyes darken. Pushing his hands down, you quickly take a step back. “But by then I was due to move out, so it doesn’t really matter!”

“It matters a little,” he growls. “None of this is normal.” You flinch at his strong tone. “Sweetheart, tell me one thing; what would you do if God forbid, he did the same thing to Rosie?” 

You gasp. “I would murder him.”

“So, you agree that we have to do something about this?” Hesitantly, you nod. “I’ll reach out to my attorney as soon as possible. I promise you that all of this will get taken care of.” Muscular arms drape over your shoulders as he hugs you. Bewildered, you blink as you stiffen. “You don’t hug much?”

“Nope.” 

He booms with laughter, chest vibrating as you smile at the feeling. Everything about this feels right, so then why does that scare you?

-

He vows to be back as soon as he’s done with the car reveal. I don’t care, you reply as you pop a mint into your mouth, getting ready for work. 

You’re going to miss me, watch.

And damn him, the fucker was right—you did. A part of you wishes he would rush past the doors, yapping about he thought you were dead and didn’t ask for permission to take the Benz. But he was across the world, smiling wide at media duties as you watched behind a tiny screen. It’s good that he’s taking time to see Jack, too.

“Why are you sighing so sad?” Roxy asks, fixing her combat boots. “Not getting any clients? Though I doubt it. They love you.”

You let out a forced laugh. “I’m not sad—tired.”

The red head furrows her brows suspiciously before hugging you. Your arms dangle lazily as you scrunch your nose. She giggles. “Does this have to do with Mr. Toto Wolff? He’s hot—crazy hot.” She untangles herself from you. “He must be the devil himself.”

“Is that so?”

“Oh yeah,” she cheers happily. “But also, you’re totally in love.” Your stomach drops. No, I am not. Roxy rolls her eyes. “You’re a good liar, but you’re not that good. I’ve noticed the way you look at him. Like you want to eat him alive as you kiss him until your lips snap.”

You wince at the image. “You have a way with words…”

She beams, thin brows raising up. “I’ve also noticed that you haven’t gone into the private room since he walked in through those doors. So what, you’re just going to keep pretending?”

“You’re such a creep!” you squeal, delicate hand slapping her thigh. She squeals lightheartedly. You’re missing out on a shit ton of money. We’re talking dough. And yet you don't bat an eye because you don’t want anyone but him. Did I nail it?

You pinch your fingers together as you huff. “You’re crazy. Crazy. There is no way I could be in lo—” Hey! The ringing sound makes your blood run cold as you fear to turn around. Look at me. Foxy stares back at you with anxious eyes. Do you know her? Looking down onto your lap, you nod. “That’s my mother.”

“Oh shit.”

A dry hand yanks you by the arm as she spins you around. “I’m talking to you. Why won’t you look at me?” 

You flinch. “I’m working, you can’t be doing this—”

“I don’t give two shits if you’re working or not, if I say we need to talk, then we need to talk.” Ro shakes his head, distressed as he apologizes. I’m so sorry, Peaches. She said she was your mom and I…I didn't know what to do. You smile back softly. 

“Don’t worry. Can you get me a room?”

As soon as your mother enters the dark area, she whistles. “Fancy, but really? Bending over for any man willing to pay you a couple cents? That’s disgusting.”

Your cheeks burn up as you fight back tears. “What do you want? Is Rosie okay?” Panic rushes through your veins as you grab her by the shoulders, shaking her violently. She’s so thin, you think you might break her. “Is she okay, I said?”

“She’s fine,” she yawns. “So…this is what you’re up to? It always…catches me by surprise. Not really.”

“I had no choice,” you whisper meekly. “You gave me no choice.”

The older woman smirks. “Don’t you dare blame me. No one makes you do anything— this was your decision.” 

You let out a tired sigh. “Just tell me what you want…”

Her eye twitches, as if she remembers why she was so angry to begin with. “I got your complaint; you’re suing me for being a bad mother and Connor for…assaulting you? Do you realize how stupid that sounds?”

“I’m not lying—”

“Really?”

“Why would I lie?” you yell back, acid sliding down your cheeks. “I would never make up such a thing. He assaulted me countless times as you never did a single thing.”

“I never saw anything.”

You let out a bitter laugh. “You walked in on it! You called me a slut! I was seventeen for fuck sakes. But no—you blamed me for sleeping with your husband instead.” You take a good look at her; dark undereyes, frail figure, needles imprints everywhere. “You can’t keep doing this. You need to think about Rosie—”

“Rosie, Rosie, Rosie—I could not care any less about her! She just bugs with all her crying. It’s exhausting.”

“She’s just a baby.” Grabbing her hands, you soften your gaze. “If you don’t want her, fine, let me raise her…I swear I can do it.”

Your mother perks up. “You would do that?” Yes. Of course I would, you respond instantly. You’ll never hear about us ever again. Her thin hand cradles your cheek warmly, and for a moment, you let yourself lean against it. Then she pulls away and strikes you harshly, causing you to stumble back. “Why would I ever please you like that?”

Bring your hand up to your stinging flesh, you sob. “I-I…what?”

“Here’s what you’re going to do; you're going to drop the charges against me and Connor.”

“No.” 

She clicks her tongue. “Are you sure?”

Rising up with shaky legs, you keep a firm face even though it begs to howl in pain. “I said no. You’re not going to hand her over willingly, okay…Then I’m taking you to court.”

“Like hell you aren’t.” Tugging your arm, she presses her face insanely close to yours. You wince at the smell of intoxication; you can’t even tell what kind. “I will fucking kill you, do you hear me?”

You let out a wet laugh, ripping your arm away from her tight grip. “I don’t care. I don’t care anymore, but I am saving my sister from you two—no matter what.” Her nostrils flare as she heaves. You let out a sad whimper. “When did you become so inhuman? You used to be kind, beautiful, ha—”

“Heartbreak does that to a person,” she simply states before walking out, leaving you to yourself as you finally come crashing down.

-

He didn’t expect for there to be a racket, but the house felt awfully quiet. He knows you weren't at work—he had checked. He thought maybe you could have been out with friends, so he sighs before resting on the couch. He sits there for an hour or so before heading upstairs to take a shower. 

As soon as he enters the bedroom, he finds you covered with thick blankets as you cry. Alarmed, he rushed to your side of the bed. Oh my God, you shriek at the anonymous person before squirting. “When did you get here?”

“That doesn’t matter—what’s wrong?”

You hope brushing your tears away would stop him from asking questions. “What makes you think something is wrong?”

A pinched up expression maps out. Your chin forms a peach seed as you let out a weak sob and stand on the bed, making you the same height as him, throwing your arms around his neck. He’s stunned, but snaps out of it as he hugs you back, calloused fingers playing with your soft hair. “What’s wrong?”

“My mom visited me at work. She said some nasty things, but that doesn’t matter to me, what does is that she won’t let me adopt Rosie,” you muffle against his neck, salty tears wetting his collared shirt. “She’d rather raise her out of spite. She’s not made for this, she's malicious.”

“What else did she say?”

You pause, sniffling before pulling back with a reindeer nose. “That’s it.”

The Austrian lowered his gaze with subtle threat. “No, tell me everything she told you.”

“I swear that’s all.”

His brown eyes scan your face, but you remain still, only shaky breaths being released. He clenches his jaw. “Where does she live?” Your face drops. Why do you want to know? “Where does she live?”

“I’m not telling you.”

“Stop being so stubborn and let yourself be helped—”

“I don’t need your help anymore, Toto!” You purse your lips, trembling hands brushing your hair back. Anger rushes over him as he inspects the purple bruise.

“Who did this to you?”

Sitting back down on the bed, your nose twitches. “I’m moving out.”

“Who fucking did this to you?” His voice is lethal. Thank you for trying to fix things, but I’m sure I can do it myself from now on. “What you don’t seem to understand is that you don’t have to. It was your mother, correct?” Forlorn, you agree with your silence. “What have they done to you?” he whispers, pain lacing his raw voice.

“I’m sorry I dragged you into all of this,” you whisper, salty tears sliding down. “I’m going to kill your image—they’re going to hate you because of me.”

“I don’t give a fuck,” the brunette ricochets back. “All I care about is that you’re okay. That you find the happiness you deserve to have.”

Grimacing, you sniffle, shaking your head. “I’m starting to think that doesn’t exist. Or at least I’m so unlucky that I won’t get a piece,” you joke. “The closest thing I’ve felt to that is when I met you.” His heart melts as he stares back, adoringly. “You’ve helped me in so many ways, Toto. Thank you for that.”

“But—”

“I know.” Rising up on the fluffy bed, you tower over him a bit, pressing kisses on his temples, cheeks, nose, neck. “You’re the only man who's ever made me feel something real. I can’t explain it, but I hope it makes sense.” 

He gulps. “It does. You want to know why?”

“Why?”

“Because you’ve made me feel the exact same way from the moment you stepped into my life.” He closes the gap between you two as you stumble back against the mattress, but his large hands prevent you from getting away. “You’re not perfect—you’re flawed. You don’t have your life together—but you’re trying to. You’re not the tough girl you make yourself out to be—but that’s because you feel the need to build up walls to protect yourself from others.” Your stomach churns with every word he speaks. “And somehow…you have me wrapped around your finger.”

It happens so quickly, the way he presses his lips against yours. He can taste the saltiness but doesn’t dare to pull away. Like an animal, you move your mouth against his, whimpers flowing to his ears like symphonies. Toto knows why you never made the first move; you were scared to admit your feelings. But he was too.

Almost as if you read his mind, you run your fingers against his scalp as he breathes out, against your open mouth. “You won’t do the same, right Toto?” 

“What, sweetheart?”

Gloomy eyes reflect against his own. “Leave?”

“Unless you ask me to, then no.” He pecks your temple. “I can’t even imagine living without you anymore.”

That’s all it takes as you jump on him, silky legs wrapping around his torso like a piece of ribbon. He grunts loudly when you bite down on his bottom lip before letting go. “God, Toto, you’re—” As soon as he sucks on your throat, your sentence dies. Writhing against him, you try pushing him off as he chuckles, then he sets you down against the white sheets.

Immediately, you crawl back to the edge of the bed to where he still stands. Frisky hands tremble as you aim for his belt. Such a pretty girl, he thinks as you slip it off. You don’t have to do this. “I owe you, remember?” Then eager hands push his pants down, along with his boxers.

You knew he would be big, but that was an understatement. Toto was huge. Being 6’5 should have been a warning itself, but still. Drooling over his cock, you lick your lips, doe eyes fixating back to him. “I might not be able to take it all in my mouth,” you sheepishly state, red faced. The fifty-two year old has probably had a much better encounter; you were just making a fool out of yourself. Running his thumb against your cheekbone, the corners of his lips fly up. 

“I’ll walk you through it.”

Humming, you delicately wrap your hand around his length. Even just feeling it makes the heat in your belly grow. He clenches his jaw. Jerking him off, you wrap your lips around the pink tip. The Austrian releases a dirty groan, hips bucking as you smile around him. Pulling back, you stare up expecting the next step. Start off how you normally would. 

Pouty lips welcome him down your throat as you whine, the vibrations sending him into an orbit. When your palm slithers to what you can’t reach, he tsks. “You haven’t even tried.” Soft brows pinch together as if to say; Probably because I know I can’t either way. His nostrils flare. “Relax your jaw.”

Doing as you’re told, you gag as you squeeze your eyes shut and curl your toes. Your back arches, ass flying up as you struggle. A large hand reaches out to smack it. Yelping, you ease your mouth, thick member sliding down furthermore than you could have even imagined. There you go. 

Swallowing around him, you bob your head at a steady pace, reliving the steps, too scared to mess up. The Austrian throws his head back, sharp jaw in clear display as he pants. “Just like t-that, fuck. You’re doing so…shit.” While he’s enjoying himself, tears burst out as you clench your eyes, lashes becoming darker. The feeling is definitely getting him off, but he wanted to make things easier for you. 

Brushing your untamed hair back, he traces the bridge of your nose. Your orbs remain closed, and he finds himself missing them. “Breathe through your nose.” Ragged breaths fly out as your fingers dig against his thighs. He hisses. But gradually, it gets better. Glossy eyes stare up at him, lips stretch around his cock as you continue your filthy movements. 

As if to prove yourself to him, you deepthroat him even more as his head rolls back, floppy hair following along. Soft fingers brush against his legs as he shudders, face twisted with pleasure. Pulling away, you swirl your wet lips against his tip, feeding off of his precum before forcing yourself back down. 

Thick ropes of cum slide down your throat as you moan loudly. The brunette grunts, shaky breaths flying past his lips. With a teasing pop, you kneel up as you open wide. He moans at the sight of his release swimming inside your sinister mouth, then you swallow. Even though your throat is extremely sore, you still beam at him.

“Where have you been all my life?.” Climbing over you, he lays you flat, slipping your dress off. He’s stunned to find out you’re completely naked. Cherry red feathers on your cheeks. “Are you sure you didn’t know I was going to be back?”

Your lips curl. “No idea.”

He wraps his mouth against your bud as you whimper, hand massaging his head as he repeats his actions to the other. You could definitely fall asleep to this. When you open your eyes, you’re impressed to find out he’s completely stripped down, toned body exposed. The sight makes you grow excited, nervous.

“Are you on birth control?”

You curse softly. “I’m not. Crap.” Disappointed, you’re expecting him to climb off, but he doesn’t. Instead, he let out a raw chuckle. “I t-told you I don’t fuck men on the regular—”

“I don’t need the reminder,” he grunts. His brown eyes soften. “What’s your wish in life?”

Confusion paints your face. “To have you?”

“Cute.” Flustered, you focus on his contracting abs. Foaming at the mouth, you try to picture rubbing your core against them. “The other one,” he demands.

“Oh…” No. He can’t possibly mean… Your heart stops beating. “To be a mom.”

“There it is.” 

Briskly, he pushes into you as you wince in pain. I know, I know, he coos. But it’s better this way. It won’t feel so bad in a few minutes. Crying against his humid chest, your jaw hangs open. “It really hurts, Toto. Oh…it burns.” Hot tears reestablish themselves inside your orbs. “You’re too big.”

“Breath, sweetheart, breath.” His voice calms you down as your mewls lessen. “See?” You hum. “I’m going to move, alright?”

“O-okay,” you respond, dizzy. The feeling returns—less painful—but returns, nonetheless. Panic expands through your chest as you begin to think he might split you in half. His cock was just so thick and veiny. But it felt delicious between your velvety walls. “Fuck, baby,” you pant.

“I knew you could do it.” A warm peck lingers on your shoulder. “You feel so tight, schatz. So warm.” He sighs in relief as your tiny cunt compresses against his length, easing the pain from being as hard as a rock. Worse. Strong arms pick your legs up over his bare shoulders, making him travel deeper. 

“Toto, Toto, Toto—”

Eyes entertained against your slippery hole, he raises his brows. Yeah, baby? Getting a hold of his hand, you bring it over your stomach. His jaw clenches. “I can feel you.” Writhing in ecstasy, you toss your head to the side, small whines echoing between the vaporized walls. Pouding into you at a faster pace, he growls, bite marks being left behind on your legs. You hiss, clamping your eyes even harder, which makes you clench around his cock even more.

“Do that again,” he begs. “Do it—” You oblige, attention set on how he moans feverishly, hands adding pressure to your legs. For sure his imprints would be left behind. Taking advantage of the little power you have, you untangle yourself, greedily climbing onto his thick lap. 

“Looking good, Mr. Wolff.” 

He looked more than good—he looked eternal. The way his chest heaves, his soft pants, sweaty hair framing his handsome face, dark eyes praising you as if you were Athena herself. A confession finds into your brain as you halt. Beads of sweat cover his long nose as he appears concerned by the sudden break. Is everything okay? Rubbing your eyes as if you just had the worst nightmare, you blink hastily. 

Roxy couldn't have been right—she never was. Except, she is this time. It's as if a warm glow towers over him, your chest feels awfully vacant, but you’re not scared because you know your heart has found its home in the palm of his hand. You laugh in amusement as you touch his face all over. He smiles, eyes crinkling. “What’s so funny?”

“I love you, Toto Wolff.”

A lump forms inside his throat as he tilts his head. “You do?”

You shrug sheepishly. “I do.” Kissing his lips, you sigh with content. “I love you, I love you, I love you; I adore you.” He can hear the clock ticking as he stares back with his lips slightly parted. “You don’t have to feel the same, you dont have to say it back—I don’t care, but I can’t keep living a life of regret…”

“I love you, too.” Cartoon eyes blink back at him as he chuckles. “Do you believe me?”

“Uh…” Your lips stretch out. “Yes.”

Shifting on top of the Austrian, you make sure to slip him back inside as you moan in unison. Riding someone has never felt so addicting. Gasping at the raw feeling, you dig your nails onto his shoulders. When you look down at him, you are pleased to find him struggling to catch his breath. His fingers pinch your hips harshly as you bounce harder and faster, as if he would regret his words and leave you. “So big.” You drool, hair flourishing around you. “Stretching me out so good, Mr. Wolff.” He growls at you captivating words. “Making it so easy to ride you, huh? Cock brushing against the perfect sp—oh my God.”

Your face twists up with pleasure when the tip of his cock brushes against the mushy part that makes you almost black out. Movements slow down but it’s not long before he lifts you up and slamming you back down. “Toto!” you squeal, flimsy arms reaching out to balance yourself on his wide shoulders. Everytime he hauls you up and you look back at him, he represents like a giant. Your eyes roll back, mouth hanging wide open. “I-I’m close-e-e.”

“Me too,” he grunts. Like a devilicious man on a mission, he slaps your face carefully, forcing you to connect your glossy orbs with his loopy ones. “Gonna let me cum inside? Carry my baby, just like you’ve always wanted?”

“Yes,” you chant. “Yes—all of it—yes.” Cradling his cheek against your sweaty palm, you smile. “Cum inside of me, Wolff.”

With one final push, you both release loud moans, a strong wave of orgasms crashing violently against one another. Huffing, he makes a ponytail with your messy hair before letting go. “You think it worked?” You giggle.

“We’ll have to wait and see.” Leaning towards him, you kiss him gingerly. His mind grows blurry with how meaningful you make it seem. I’m yours—my heart is all yours—but please don’t break it, it seems to tell him as his enormous hands squish you closer to him, as if that were possible. 

“I know of a few ways we can make sure.”

-

Though you had mutually admitted your feelings to one another, there still didn’t appear to be a proper label to it all. Time was slipping, he would soon have no other choice but to leave and face all his responsibilities. 

But you can come back with me, he would desperately bring up as he fucked you against the wall. Tits would be bouncing at a hasty speed as you look back with your mouth in an O. I want you to. You won’t ever have to worry about anything, I promise. You can go back to Uni. You’ll get custody over Rosie, and Jack will be over the moon. We could have a family of our own, just you and I, Peaches. Huh? How does that sound, baby?

It sounded perfect; like a dream. You could taste it already. Early morning calls that you wouldn’t mind because he’d be laying down next to you. Quiet time as you jot down notes and he stresses over the next big decision for the team. And at the end, you would be glad you made the choice to choose him. Just like he chose you.

With shaky hands, you brush his messy hair back as he dotes on your bambi eyes. The way they glimmered extra bright that night; like starlight. The brunette’s face would soften up when you trace his nose, the curve of pink lips, his lines. Everything about him was breathtakingly dominant. 

You’d be a fool to deny. 

So, you accept. 

-

If Toto were to be told that he had died and ascended to heaven; he wouldn’t second guess the possibility. Because being with you felt exactly like that. Every passing second only adds to the amount of love he bottles up for you. It would overflow and he’d be okay; bring out the next. Oh, that one’s full, too? Okay, next. 

All of it made sense. You matched perfectly in sync with him like a cozy glove and he wouldn’t have it any other way. There’d be whispers from others, but he doesn’t care. He’d deal with just about anything for you. 

“You’re leaving so soon.” A click. “Have you thought about quitting?”

He can see you grow as stiff as a tree. Your back faces him, but he can still spot your reflection. Of course you looked absolutely lovely, but there was something different about…God. He doesn’t even know what to call it. 

“I’m not quitting.”

The Austrians' lips form a thin line; shoes clicking against the floor even more. A boom of lighting fills the room as you flinch. He smiles slowly. “Right—not yet, at least. Not until you move to Monaco.”

More heavy silence. “Sure.”

Now he’s worried. Strolling closer to you, he brushes his warm hand against your shoulder, kissing your exposed skin. “What is it?”

His heart stops when he notices you blinking back tears; bloodshot eyes tracing his tall figure. His first assumption is the most obvious; your mother and Connor. They had probably done something, said something, and now they’ve got you—

“I’m taking the car. See you later.”

He blinks. The cold demeanor was something unusual on your behalf, but leaving without a goodbye kiss was alarming. Toto tries to suppress his feelings with a bottle of scotch, but nothing seems to work. He has to see you. 

Gathering his wallet and house keys, he strides out the door before he spots his laptop wide open. As soon as he returned, he would have to answer endless emails, but for now, that wasn’t his priority. Inching closer, he reaches down to slap it shut when his pulse runs cold.

We should think about Jack.

He’s too young to understand anything of what’s going on, Suse.

Let’s just try one last time. I swear I’ll change. 

I love you. 

He knew instantly; you had read the messages. He had sent them, there's no doubt, but that was so long ago. The date was right there; all before he met you. Before opening up to you. But he doubts you spared enough time to spot the tiny detail. You saw his texts and that’s all; the rest was blocked.

Toto’s palms get sweaty, ears burning red, and heart racing faster than a fucking F1 car. How must you feel? You had made him promise that he wouldn’t hurt you and now this? The confusion was completely explainable, but he had to get to you fast.

It’s as if he owns the place, marching fiercely past the open doors that swing once they spot the Austrian. NDA’s were rather foolish when it comes to him now because he just held that much power. That much respect. But he can’t think of why something feels off.  You were hurt, and he felt awful, but no…there’s something else. As if there were an actual wolf lurking deep in the woods; ready to pounce. The hair in the back of his neck stands up, goosebumps forming, and eyes flickering all over the rich club, hoping to find you.

“Hey,” he pants when he spots the familiar redhead. Foxy lives up to her name because her laser glare has him scared for his life. She doesn’t even spare him a second glance before strutting away, a row of men following. The Austrian pushes past them all, pleading just like any other, but for a completely different reason. “Have you seen, Peaches?”

“Yes.”

“Great! Where is she?”

“Around.” 

The dancer beams at the group of businessmen who relax against their seat, hunting down without shame. They wore wedding bands, but who cared, right? Toto’s large hand grasps her wrist, tugging her away as she gasps, causing a commotion. He doesn’t care, he just has to find you.

Brown eyes glimmer threateningly but also soft because they’re both aware he needs her, for she only knows where to find you. “Listen, I know she told you what happened, but it was all some misunderstanding! The messages..they were sent to my ex-wife a long time ago. Before any of this, I swear…you have to believe me.”

Foxy narrows her thin brows, digging a sharp nail against his toned chest. “No, you listen—Peaches is one of the sweetest girls I have ever met; she's my other half, so when you hurt her…” A beat. “That’s it. She doesn’t forgive.”

His shoulders drop like an avalanche. “B-but it was a...you don’t mean that.”

The redhead struts away, long legs prancing like a vixen. “Believe me; don’t believe me—I don’t care. Just leave her alone.”

But he can’t do that anymore, he's in too deep. No matter how many times Foxy cursed him to leave, he just wouldn't. He would explain. Even if it were that last thing he did. All's fair after that. 

“Mr. Wolff?” A red drink is extended out towards him kindly, to which he shakes his head with a forced smile. If you can even call it that. He’s sure he looks awful, dressed in all black, but it perfectly represented him for who he is and how he was feeling. It’s almost as if he were ready to show up to a funeral. 

As time ticks at a snail's pace, he grows more nauseous. There’d be a moment where you see him and he doesn’t know how you would react. Fuck—he doesn’t know how he would, either. To some it may be embarrassing to weep in front of a group of worldly men, but if you looked at him a certain way where he knew it was over? He’d be the first, and without hesitation or shame. 

He’s come to recognize your set as fast as a racing strategy. The stage would light up a soft yellow; swallow the room like the early sun. The piano keys would start off slow, taunting, and almost sinister—Yayo. And of course, you’d prance around like a broken angel, wings brushing your hair like his long fingers would.

But this is strange.

He’s too busy analyzing the colorful club when the lights burn black, only the glass box raining a bright red. He doesn’t even recognize it’s you. 

The intro isn’t the notorious piano lullabies, but rather scratchy violins. Million Dollar Man slithers across the crowded room like a venomous snake, waiting to strike anyone who doesn’t lay their attention on them. 

And this time, you’re no angel, you’re no devil. You’re both. It’s confusing and alarming, but also beautiful and breathtaking. While your dress is cotton white, your makeup is dark and tempting, lips dark red. Your knee socks are tied with a simple ribbon, making men drool like some type of fuckery. You look miserably broken. If anyone were to guess, then they’d say that you’re high off drugs, but that’s not the case. You're high off heartbreak. 

And the simple necklace you wear, with his marriage ring attached to it, is a pelluid indication. Even if it was new level petty.

Toto is in such a trance that he doesn’t even feel when a group of hands push him to sit down, eager to have a clear view of their own. They all secretly envy the Austrian when they notice that he had landed himself the best seat in the house without even trying. 

So, was it fate to be sitting here, in front of you? Was it fate to have met, then hurt you without the means? The music is almost terrifying, along with your black wings and white halo. All of this is utterly puzzling; was he supposed to be into this, or fear it? Was he supposed to feel his heartbeat in the pit of his stomach, drumming against his ribcage, or was he supposed to be at ease? But most important; would you spare him this time to apologize, or would you kick him out of your life? The last notion scared him the most as he sat like a tired soldier, brown eyes blinking to where you start to seductively twirl.

I don’t know how you convince them and get them. Shiny legs drag behind your delicate figure as your eyes roam the room, sighing with every lustful stare. This is purely pathetic, it didn’t make you feel the way you intended for it to do, but shit. All you wanted to do was flee the state and never look back. But there were too many things tying you back; Foxy, Ro, Rosie…A stinging sensation begins to form behind your orbs and you fiercely blink them away, refusing for the thought of Toto to be what brings you down. 

But in a moment like this, what were you supposed to think about? Toto was many things; devilishly, cunningly handsome, tempting, brilliant, intoxicating; but he was also a fucking no-good, professional heartbreaker, a screwed up man who roamed earth without a sense of direction, who truly never deserved to fall in love again, especially with someone was tainted and loyal as you—

But the eyes don't lie. He’s become known by you; someone in your favorite book whom you look for in every page, despite it all. His orbs remind you of your favorite kind of dark chocolate, swirly and dreamy; enough to make you swoon, but they’re filled with more than just that. They’re desperate, as if ready to run endless miles if that's what it took for you to speak to him. They’re loopy, blazing nervously when you spot him, brows knitted with concern.

And he deserves it…you think.

Still, that doesn’t stop your stomach from churning, causing you to panic at the thought of spilling your lunch in front of everyone eyeing the glass box you're hidden behind; it could only ever do so much. Everyone can see your usually tantalizing persona fly out the window, a frail—shattered—girl taking your place. 

He’s tricked you. He made you let your guard down, let him in, and then ramshackled you whole; and he hadn’t been nice about it either. How could you have ever thought he would choose you over someone who actually held his kid for nine months? You had seen the messages that sunny morning; birds chirped, flowers bloomed. He had been busy doing God knows what, and when his bright laptop dinged, you couldn’t help but peek. As you once told him; you loved gossip.

Jack is asking if you remember where he last left his stuffed bear? You know, the one with the white spots? 

Susie. You had heard a lot about her—you’ve read, a lot, too— she was someone to admire. Helped create a path of perseverance for young girls; it was astonishing. The thought of Jack made you smile, then the bear, then her. Which is why you aimlessly scrolled once, playfully, and then you came to a rude halt. 

If someone were to grovel that way for you, you would helplessly fall for it. Fuck, he pratically begged for a second chance. Heat weaved through your body, anger rising, and then falling cruelly with a sense of undeniable ache. You had cried; sobbed. Then you got ready for work.

When he had asked what was wrong, you wanted to stab him with the nearby knife, and the thought scared you half to death. You could tell he was deeply wounded by the cold shoulder, but why the fuck should you care? 

Here—in Machiavellian Nights—trapped behind a transparent case, with disgusting men eyefucking you, you realize; there’s no place to run. An attraction is what you are; tourists are what they all represent. Toto’s massive figure swallowed his seat whole, long legs spread open naturally. And you hate it how handsome he looks, dark clouds painting his usually happy eyes. His chest dances up and down, wrestling to catch a breath. The hollers make him flinch in the slightest, grimacing.

The Austrian is apologizing, cryptically. I’m sorry—I’m so fucking sorry. His lips aren't moving, but you can hear his pleads as the music continues. 

C’mon! Dance, someone demands from afar, rough hand smacking the glass. Gasping, you purse your lips, continuing. Ignorance is horrible; especially coming from you. The idea of going on without you feel like a nightmare—torture. He tries standing up, and he doesn’t really know what his game plan is exactly in order to get to you, but heads turn and harsh arms force him back down. 

It isn’t that hard, boy. To like you, or love you. It was as if you got yanked back into what is truly your reality. You can’t have good things in life. Your father hadn’t died—he had abandoned you. Your mother did too. And Toto…

Toto Wolff was just the same.

You’re glad no one can hear you choking back on tears, you wouldn't dare to fall. But emotions were running high, your throat felt raw, your eyes stung, knees felt wobbly, and it was too much. But aside from your hurt, an eerie feeling hugged your chest, forcing your rib cage to poke you as a warning. You allow yourself to look back up, rapidly scanning the unlit room. Everything was blurry—which didn’t help—but what was it?

You’re no longer focused; your legs sway, your gartner slides down, your nose is starting to get runny, and it was all a mess. Connecting your gaze back to his, you narrow them down like deathly blades. This is all your fault, they scream at him, enraged. If you hadn’t walked into my life, then I wouldn’t be this way. 

You’re screwed up and brilliant. 

“You fucking ruined me!” Running towards the glass, you violently slap and punch, over and over until you no longer feel any pain. Red bruises form rather quickly and everyone begins to murmur.

Look like a million dollar man.

“I hate you, Toto Wolff!” Muffled whimpers flow like a waterfall as everyone turns to face the fifty-two year old who sits with a hurt expression. 

“I can explain,” he pleads, instantly rising up to his scary height and rushing over to where you’re caged. His large hand pathetically grasps it, fingerprints painting the shiny protection between you and him. “Sweetheart…”

So why is my heart broke?

“I’ll regret you for the rest of my—”

Chaos ensues; the volcano erupts. It’s suffocating, the way everyone tramples over one another, scattering like lab rats. The yells of terror make his blood run ice cold, swiftly turning around to face the open room. Foxy lets out a scream filled with agony as she crawls over to the stage. Acid slides down her face, makeup running. The other dancers run to hide where the bartender stands with his mouth wide open, orbs flickering with urgency. He doesn’t know what the hell is going on, but he has to get you out of here.

“Open it!” Foxy cries, hands hitting the clear box so forcefully that her nails begin to chip, light gore beginning to slide down. “Open the fucking stage right now!” She lets out a string of pleas, but no one is listening—they can’t even try to with all the loud noise. The alarms go off and that’s what snaps him out of his spot of confusion and what makes her cry and fall back against her arms.

The glass isn’t shattered like in the movies, all over the floor, no. There’s just a singular hole, scratches circling around it—and spikes of blood coloring the crystal clear mirror. 

Even with eyes closed, face sticky with tears, and blood spurting out of your mouth and chest, pooling around your angelic body, you were still beautiful. The ring lays flat atop your unbeating heart, shining one last time against the cherry lights. You were gone as soon as the bullet hit, but Toto was the last person you had seen. And you wish you had time to tell him you never meant any of it. You could never hate him; you loved him, you loved him, you loved him.

“I…no. No. No.” Fists punch urgently, cuts finding a place in his pale skin. “Open it!” More pounds. “Let her out! Why is no one letting her out?” Trepidation sleeks over him as he stops his actions, taking a second to look at you. Your dark wings had somehow turned darker, your white dress is now drowned in crimson red, your halo is no longer on your head, and your lively skin is now ghostly pale, almost gray. “Peaches…” His voice quivers so much, he almost doesn't realize it's coming from him. “Get up, sweetheart—come on, just stand.”

His chest tightens when you go unresponding. “T-think about Rosie! She loves you; she needs you. I need you,” he declares, voice cracking. “The text messages are a mishap! I only love you, Peaches, that’s all! I swear I do, I swear it’s you…”

He dreads to turn around and face what was now his life. The music cuts, but the frightful screams continue. Toto blinks back the stingy feeling as he flickers up to make eye contact with who’s responsible for ripping you away from him.

You share the same eyes, but hers are sullen now. Her hair looks as if it could have once been glossy, but is now as dry as the desert. Her lips are nastily chapped, but an uncanny curl slips through as she ticks anxiously when Ro and the rest of the guards hold her without an ounce of remorse, cuffing skinny, needled wrists.

Your mother looks down at the gun, at her daughter, then at Toto. An unhinged stare strikes her impentent face.

“I brought her into this world…I can also take her out.”

taglist: @blueflorals @starmanv @coolio2195 @lovrsm @weekendlusting@chanshintien @brune77e @myownwritings @timmychalametsstuff @milasexutoire@alesainz @c-losur3 @darleneslane @togazzo @urfavnoirette @namgification @lpab @d3kstar @anniee-mr @nebarious

[actuallysaiyan]

Sleepless Night(Nanami Kento x Fem!Reader)

warnings: smut, unprotected sex, somnophilia, creampie finish, slight dub-con if you squint but there is consent, sex

word count: 1.2k

pairings: Nanami Kento x Fem!Reader

summary: Kento can't sleep and his cock is so hard...so he just decides to take matters into his own hands and fucks you through the night

a/n: This is inspired by the very lovely artwork that @kentosmoon has created that I cannot post here, but I took one look at it and was so inspired! Please, go check them out and go check out their twitter page too ;) You'll find the artwork in question.

taglist: @beneathstarryskies @an-ever-angry-bi @seireiteihellbutterfly

It’s late and Kento can’t sleep. He can’t sleep despite the fact that he knows he’ll have to wake up early. It’s been a long time since he was plagued with such an intense bout of insomnia. He should be sleeping. You’re right here next to him. Dressed in one of his old t-shirts and snoring lightly, this should comfort him more than anything.He nuzzles his face in the crook of your neck, inhaling your scent.

His amber eyes seek his phone in the darkness. His long arm reaches over towards the bedside table. He sighs when the screen reads 3:05 am. It’s too late to even think about getting a good night’s sleep. You both had retired to the bedroom around 10 pm, and yet he tossed and turned for so long. He sets the phone down and then snuggles closer to you, hoping your warmth will bring him some relief.

Then another annoyance washes over him. Just smelling you and being this close to you causes his cock to twitch a few times. He closes his eyes, choosing to ignore the deep desire inside of him instead. Eventually, he feels himself dozing off. That is…until you lean back into him, pressing that plump ass of yours against his half-hard cock.

“Shit…” Kento hisses. 

He knows it’s not your fault. You’re sleeping, after all. But this has just woken him up even more. It’s late and he’s supposed to be at work around 7 tomorrow. There’s just no way he’ll make it in. He thinks to himself that he’d rather deal with this issue and pleasure you both and call in sick. Kento begins to grind against your ass, his arm wrapping around you again to pull you in even closer to him.

“Hey…” he whispers softly in your ear.

You don’t wake up. He continues grinding against you, his cock growing hard as he continues. There’s a wet spot forming on the front of his silky pajamas from all the precum he’s spilling out. Kento grunts again when you move against him. Then he hears you moaning.

“Hey baby,” he whispers once more.

“Mmm…Ken?” you ask, your voice full of sleep.

He grunts once more as you move closer to him, your hips wiggling just a bit to get into a more comfortable position. You must be too deep in your sleepy state to even notice just how his hard cock is pressing up against your ass. He grinds against you a few more times, then he leans in to nip at your earlobe.

“Can I please…please…fuck you while you sleep? Please?”

Your eyes shoot open, but soon you’re hit with another bout of sleepiness. You want to be more awake, but you’re struggling. Just the thought of him fucking you while you sleep causes a heat to spread deep in your loins. 

You feel his hand coming down between your thighs, and he pushes them open just a bit. His long fingers part your thighs, making you mewl so sleepily. He nuzzles his face in the crook of your neck, nipping and sucking on your pulse points. 

“Can I? Please, honey…don’t make me beg. I just can’t sleep and I…”

You look over your shoulder at him, “Yes, you can. Fuck me.”

He sighs contentedly and lifts your leg a little bit to give him even more room. You close your eyes once more, and you feel him shuffling behind you. Then you gasp softly when the head of his cock prods your entrance. Slowly, he slips into you. The stretch is immediate and your little cunt flutters to try and adjust around his thick size.

“That’s it,” he murmurs against your neck. “Taking me so well, sweetheart.”

He begins rocking his hips so sensually and so slowly. The head of his cock kisses your cervix every time he buries himself so deeply into you. Your eyes open for a moment, only catching the blurry vision of your phone showing you the time. It’s late, but you know your husband never asks you for this sort of request unless he needs it to sleep.

Kento continues to pump into you, his cock feeling so sensitive with every single thrust. It feels heavenly to be buried so deep in your cunt. You grip him in the best way possible, and you’re always so wet and so warm just for him. He could stay buried in your heat for the rest of eternity if it was up to him.

He continues to fuck you, making sure you’re comfortable within every position change. He manhandles you with great care and makes sure you’re so comfortable. Soon, he feels his balls drawing up and he’s grunting quietly as the pleasure builds faster and faster.

“Fuck!” He cries out, and your eyes open just a bit. You become aware of the “pap, pap, pap” sound of your skin slapping together.

Within seconds, Kento is emptying himself into you, grunting and growling. You can hear the words he says, but only just vaguely as you’re still so sleepy. Warmth fills your cunt as Kento empties his balls deep inside of you.

“That’s such a good girl,” he groans softly. 

You whine softly, your eyes feeling so heavy. Soon, you’re drifting off to sleep again. Kento maneuvers you both so that you’re lying on your back. He spreads your thighs so carefully, getting an eyeful of the cum spilling out from your puffy folds. He’s tempted to lean in and clean it up with his tongue, but he won’t do that just yet.

Kento slides into you until his balls are plush against your ass. As he does this, he gets a look at your phone and notices he’s been fucking you for almost fourty minutes now. It feels much too good to stop. He wants to fuck you all morning now, well into the sunrise and passed that.

“Just—hnng, five more minutes.” He lies to you, but he knows you need to have some sort of idea how long this is going to take,

You nod your head sleepily, falling back into that half-asleep state you’ve been in this entire time. Something about doing something so taboo and naughty really turns him on. Kento leans in to kiss your lips, making you moan out just for him. Then he begins rutting against you, pushing in so deep.

Minutes pass as he continues to fuck himself so deeply into you. Every so often he tries to edge himself to prolong this, but it becomes even harder with every intense orgasm he feels. He gets you off a few times as well, rubbing your swollen clit that’s just begging to be stimulated.

It’s nearly 6am the next time he fills you up, and he’s staying so deep inside of you. He grunts that he’s cumming in your ear, and you blink awake. It’s so sticky between your legs and the sheets beneath you feel wet and full of cum and juices. You look into his beautiful eyes, all full of love, lust and a touch of exhaustion.

“No sense of stopping now,” you whisper as you two share a kiss. “Let’s keep going…”

[tojisun]

i need more dadbod!simon

!! smut - minors dni; female reader

thinking about the way simon takes you on your knees, your hands bound on your back, your wrists held by his hand. it makes you drool, the way his strength overpowers you; the way you are suspended for him to use.

the swell of his gut sits on your pretty ass as he humps his cock in your pussy, the stretch of it so big it makes your body lock, preparing for the crescendo of your orgasm.

simon fucks you through it—slipping his cock out slowly, torturously, before pressing in deliciousy, hitting that one spot so intimately deep, you begin whimpering, all delirious from the myriad of pleasure sparking all over you. you don’t know if you want to run away from the way his cock kisses somewhere sensitive, or if you want to push back and meet his thrusts.

he grunts in his pleasure, his other hand mapping out the plane of your spine, massaging your taut muscles as though he isn’t fucking you so well. as though you haven’t been reduced to babbling mewls.

“please,” you hiccup and something in simon shifts because he’s pulling out and pulling away and no, no, wantyouwantyou-

“shh,” simon murmurs, cupping your cheek to wipe away your tears. you didn’t even realize that he’s twisted you to face him; that, even with your body turned into putty, simon was able to lift all that you are with such gentleness.

his bulk shadows you and you peer up at him with a pout, sniffling, feeling yourself run on overdrive. your appetite continues to expand, curling with a yawning desire.

“si-”

“i’ve got you, baby,” he whispers, smiling down on you in the way that makes his eyes crinkle, the lines running on the edges of his face creasing beautifully.

“okay,” you reply, giving him a wobbly smile back. “love you.”

somehow, that makes him smile even more tenderly.

“yeah,” he says, sounding so choked up himself. “love you too, baby.”

you lift your hand up to trace at the scars on his arms, swiping them up along his shoulders, before teasing the ones by his jaw. he’s so pretty. so beautiful.

simon chuckles, murmurs how ticklish it feels, and you giggle an apology before hooking your arms to his back. he shuffles, adjusting himself before you, and you wrap your legs around his waist, your muscles meeting the pudge of his sides.

it makes you squirm. it makes your heart clench with something more than desire.

retirement has never looked more beautiful on him.

simon lines his cock before your pussy again, the tip sliding along your folds in a teasing kiss.

“look at me,” he coos and you blink up at him, going warm at the realization that you’ve just been staring at his cock.

simon shakes his head with a fond laugh, his other hand falling to press on your pelvis. he still looks so serene, so besotted, even when he begins to press in.

you fist at the sheets, back arching off the bed only for simon to push you down carefully. fuck. s’too much.

“si- ah!- s’good.”

he hums, still sliding in. still not in.

he’s so big. so filling. he probably doesn’t even need to know how to fuck to make you feel good at this point.

simon giggles, the sound piercing through your haze.

oh. you said that out loud. whoops.

“so precious f’r me, love,” he grunts, and you mewl, head thrown back when you feel his pelvis finally hit yours.

god. all of it, all of him, is in.

you hiccup a moan, your toes curling from where they’re pressed on his back as simon folds himself towards you, his belly soft as it meet yours, your tits smooshed just below his.

“good?” simon asks, breathless himself.

“always,” you coo, pussy fluttering when simon’s cheeks blush.

he nuzzles his nose along your jaw and you angle your head to give him more room. simon still doesn’t move, doesn’t hump your cunt or thrust wildly.

and yet.

your pleasure continues to peak, building into the beginnings of your orgasm.

fuck. next time, you promise to yourself as you blink up at the ceiling, your mouth parted for gasped out moans, i’ll ask if i can cockwarm him next time.

this is me actually. also me. another me. and this ones me fr. god i need him!!

[theobsessivesideblog]

Trust Issues

An anxious Astarion falls back into old patterns of behavior.

Warnings: vague mentions of Astarion's past but seriously the rest of it is just fluff, this boy deserves someone who treats him well

————————

He loves you. Of that much he’s certain now, despite the mental battle he waged to get to this point. And you love him. He believes it even though the voice in the back of his mind tells him that he could never be worthy of a creature like you, all goodness and light in direct contrast to his tortured darkness. 

But old habits die hard. A minor disagreement earlier in the day (truly it was nothing, a mere gentle dissuasion away from his more violent tendencies) has him wound tight, worry clawing at his throat as you both retire to your tent for the evening. Surely now you’ll realize, now you’ll see the truth of him and you’ll run, leaving him behind like the monster he is. 

He can feel his mindset shift, falling into old routines as he turns up the charm to seduce his way back into your good graces. He knows how to wield his body as a weapon, has used it countless times for his, and his master’s, benefit. If he makes you need him then you can’t leave him, and he intends to make you very needy tonight. 

“You were magnificent today” he whispers into your ear, coming up behind you and wrapping his arms around your waist. 

You chuckle lightly and lean into him, closing your eyes as he begins gently kissing the sensitive hollow beneath your ear that has you arching further into his embrace. 

“You flatter me,” you hum. “I’m still not sure why everyone has decided to act like I know what I’m doing. I never planned on being a leader.”

“And yet you do it so flawlessly,” Astarion purrs, gently kissing his way to your shoulder.

You twist in his hold, your breath catching as you see the look in his eyes that he’s praying you interpret as hunger and not helpless desperation.

He takes advantage of your distraction to pull you against him, lips claiming yours in a feverish dance that takes your breath away as you wind your hands into his hair, clinging to him as if he’s something worth having. 

His hands shift suddenly, grabbing the backs of your thighs and lifting you as he lowers you both to your knees. His hands drift up, pulling your shirt from where it’s tucked into your pants and caressing his way across your stomach to your ribs, teasing the edge of your bra. 

“I…” you take a sharp inhale, pulling yourself away from his searching mouth. “Astarion, stop.”

He freezes immediately, eyes instantly searching for an injury, for anything he may have done wrong 

“Are you okay, my love? Did I hurt you?”

“Of course not, I just…” your fingers flit across his cheek, searching for answers to questions you’re afraid to ask. “You don’t seem like yourself. Are you alright?” He hesitates for a split second and your brow furrows, latching on to his lie before he can even tell it. “Tell me. Please?” 

Your request is so earnest, so loving, that he has to pause for a moment to regain a hold of his emotions. If Cazador could see him now… the thought snaps him back to the present. He’s been a fool. You would never treat him like that, use him like that. 

“… I’m sorry” he breathes. “You’re right. Of course you’re right. I… I lost control today, and I was afraid that you… that you might not...”

“I told you it was nothing to worry about, love. You were just—”

“Just being myself,” he interjects, dropping his head. “Just being quick to judge, to assume the worst, to—”

“Stop that,” you frown, nudging his chin up to draw his eyes back to yours. “You know I couldn’t do this without you, any of it. What you thought of me when we met, that I was naive and overly trusting and gullible…” At that Astarion chuckles, you’ve really only proven his first impression right, though at least now he finds it endearing rather than frustrating. “You weren’t wrong. You don’t realize how much I rely on your judgment, how much I need your help to keep us all safe.”

His eyes close as he presses his forehead to yours.

“You’re too kind to me,” he whispers. “No one has ever… I don’t understand how you can just…” he sighs, shoulders sagging as the facade crumbles and his hands come to rest in yours, holding them as if he’s afraid he’ll get lost if he lets them go. “It was wrong of me to try to manipulate you like that,” he murmurs, releasing a shaky breath. “I’m sorry.” You press a soft kiss to his cheek and duck your head, gently nuzzling your face into his neck. He feels you frown against him, a touch of cold alerting him to a teardrop falling onto his skin. “No, pet, please don’t cry, I—”

You lift your head suddenly, gaze piercing into him with an intensity he hadn’t expected.

“I need you to trust me, Astarion.” 

His brow furrows in confusion. 

“I do, my sweet,” he replies, letting out a wry chuckle before adding “despite the recent evidence to the contrary.”

Your gaze softens as you grin at him, brushing a stray curl off his forehead before bringing your hand to rest on his cheek.

“Then trust me to love you.Trust that you don’t need to earn that or convince me of anything more. I’m yours. I’m not going anywhere.” 

Astarion’s eyes drift closed as a weight he didn’t realize he was carrying slips off his shoulders. He leans forward and captures your lips with his, tender and unhurried as you relax against him. 

“Have I told you recently how much I adore you, darling?” he asks, tilting his head to slowly kiss his way to your jaw.

“Hmm…” Your eyes twinkle as you pull an exaggerated thinking face. “I’m sure you have but it’s been such a long day, I just can’t seem to remember…”

“Cheeky little pup,” he chuckles, gently nipping at your neck. You giggle as you pull him back to your mouth, smiling against his lips. 

“Maybe you should jog my memory?” 

“Oh, believe me,” he smirks, “I plan to.”

[jamespotterismydaddy]

The Prince Regent

aemond x sister smut

A/N: I haven't given yall smut in so long :( pls forgive me

WARNINGS: smut!, incest, murder (bye bye aegon)

WORD COUNT: 1,475 words

You feel ill when your brothers come back from battle. Your husband, Aegon is a step away from death and Aemond is… different. It all unnerves you.

You spend hours visiting your husband on his sickbed but there’s only so much you can take before you have to retire to your own chambers. You hated Aegon sometimes but you truly never wanted such a thing to befall him. You miss when he was healthy.

“Sister.” You don’t think you even heard Aemond knock before he’s in your room.

Your eyes well with tears when you see him, knowing it’s okay to break a little when in the presence of your dearest brother. “Aemond…” you let out in a whimper.

His face softens as he immediately makes his way over to you, pulling you into his strong arms. “It’s just all so awful.” You say.

“Oh my poor, dōna riña.” He murmurs into your hair, rubbing circles on your back. You’re such a fragile little thing. Aegon was terrible to you. Your twin can hardly understand why you’re so upset that he’s bedridden.

“I just… don’t want my children to grow up without their father. They’ve already lost their brother. They don’t understand why he won’t come to play with them anymore. There’s no way for me to explain it to them… I don’t know how to help them.”

“Aegon was a shit father anyhow.” He comments.

“Aemond.” You give him a scolding look through your tears.

“You can’t say I’m being untruthful. Besides, I can care for and love your children better than he ever could.”

“You are so careful with them. I am appreciative of it of course.” You murmur, feeling comforted by your brother’s gentle touch. “But you shouldn’t speak so unkindly of our King while he lies on what might be his deathbed.”

“If it is his deathbed, then I am the king.” Aemond responds.

“Would it not be Jaehaera as queen?” You question. Should it not be your daughter who would rule next?

“It would be difficult to have a girl heading our cause when Rhaenyra is also a woman. Besides, i’ve been named Prince Regent. I’m the king in all but name… and all kings need a queen.” He gives you a look that you can’t quite place.

“I am sure the Baratheon girl will be ever so pleased when she is informed of her rise in status.” You murmur.

“I won’t have dark haired, Baratheon mutts as my heirs.”

“Then who shall you marry? One of Vaemond’s granddaughters perhaps? I don’t think a Velaryon is worth breaking such a beneficial betrothal.” You don’t see it yet. You haven’t caught on to what his words mean, his treasonous words.

“I shan't break my engagement for some woman I care not for... I’ll break it for you.”

Your jaw drops. “Aemond, that is absurd.”

“I will quell their anger by arranging a match with Daeron. A third son is as good as a second.”

“You know that isn’t what i’m shocked by.”

“Are you truly shocked?” He tilts your chin up so you have no choice but to look him in the eyes. “I know it is I that you desire, not Aegon.”

“Aegon is my husband.” You protest.

“Aegon is a useless cunt who will be dead soon.” Aemond says firmly. “And when he’s dead, i’ll be king.”

“He might yet live and if he does, i’ll still be his wife. I won’t be an adulterer.” You push away from your brother, creating an appropriate distance. 

“I would never make such a woman of you. All I ask is that you answer my one question. If Aegon were dead, would you choose to marry me?”

There’s a long pause as you think about your answer. It would be treasonous to respond truthfully… but it is Aemond asking the question. You can’t lie to your beloved brother.

“I would.”

There’s a certain glint in his eye when you give him your answer. He leaves the room without saying anything else.

Over the next few hours, you try your hardest not to overthink. The way Aemond phrased the question, the way he looked at you after you answered, it was unnerving. You know your brother wants nothing more than to take care of you but he could never harm Aegon, could he?

Your question was answered by morning. Aegon is dead.

It wasn’t Aemond. You tell yourself, repeating it for a week. You only left your room when it was time for the funeral. You don’t speak to anyone, especially not him. Tonight, you don’t sleep, trying to distract yourself with what most would call silly feminine interests.

“Sister?” You look up from your needlework to see him standing there, stoically in the middle of your room.

“The hour is late, Aemond.” You say, confused by his presence and more than nervous by it.

“I know. You should be sleeping. I thought you would be sleeping.”

“I couldn’t find my rest.” You whisper.

“Why?” 

He knows why.

“It was by your hand, was it not?”

“I hardly know of what you speak.” He brushes you off.

“I am no fool.”

“I know you aren’t. That is why you’ll never say it aloud.”

“Is that a threat?” You ask and there's a visible pang of hurt shown on his visage.

“I would never do anything to harm you.” He states firmly, getting closer and taking the needlework out of your hands so he may hold them instead.

“But you would covet your brother’s wife as he lies on his deathbed. He has been cold for but a week; have you already come to claim me?”

“You desire to be claimed by me.” He states, irritated by your current disdain for him.

“I desire a good man by my side.”

“Then why do you think of me when Aegon fucks you?” Aemond grabs your wrists, pulling you closer to him. You gasp. He’s never spoken to you like this before.

“Aemond…” You breathe out, appalled. 

“You toil with this decision so i’ll make it for you.” His right hand slides down to your waist and he pulls you flush against him. “We will consummate tonight.”

He kisses you with rough passion, stealing your breath from your lips. Your brother has waited too long for this and will not wait a second longer. He pushes you back until you reach the bed, the two of you falling atop it.

“I will have you now, my wife… my beautiful bride.” 

“This is… we can’t.”

“The King can do as he pleases.”

He wastes no time, reaching his hand up your skirts until he finds your small clothes. He rubs gently through the fabric, smirking as he feels the wetness before he pulls the garment down.

“Be gentle, Aemond.” It was never a request you would make of Aegon. Such a sentiment would do you no good with a man who takes pleasure in pain.

“Of course, my dōna riña but by the end of the night, my babe will be in your belly.”

You gaze up at him as he unbuckles his trousers, such a sweet nymphet was wasted on a bastard like Aegon.

You wince as his cock splits your tight cunt and he marvels at the grimace. He must be much more well endowed than the dead king to warrant such a response.

“Shh, I'm sorry. I know it hurts. Poor sweet angel.” He lets you adjust to him, wanting you to enjoy the times you will lie together just as he does.

When he no longer sees pain strewn across your face, he begins to thrust. A little choked gasp leaves your throat as he does; you never expected to enjoy such a feeling.

“Hmm, you like that?” He taunts, beginning to pick up to a pace that you can’t handle.

“Oh, it’s too fast.” You whimper, but he doesn’t slow. Your big brother knows what you can take. Besides, there’s a bit of sadism in every Targaryen man.

He begins to pound into you, relishing each moan his baby sister makes. It’s sick, but nothing brings him more pleasure than knowing he will be a better husband than Aegon in every way possible.

Aemond hooks one of your legs over his shoulder and the new angle lets him get even deeper inside you.

“Gods, you’re just sucking me in.” He wanted so desperately to last longer as he begins to furiously rub your pearl but the way you squeeze around him makes it hard.

His hips stutter but he knows you’re close too as you begin to spasm around him. He digs himself into you with one final thrust before painting your walls white with his seed.

“We will have the wedding this week, my darling. I’ll wait no longer for you.”

comment to be added to the taglist

[unsolvedjarin]

I was going through a Charles video that mentioned him blacking out in the car at some point. Since I’m a sucker for angst, I was wondering what it would be like for mentor!Seb if it were the reader in that situation instead. Perhaps the season before the one he retires? And maybe we could see more of the reader’s friendship with Charles? Only if you feel inspired by it, of course.

Either way, thank you for sharing your fics with us. They are my favorites and I’m really grateful for having found your blog.

gif by luchitohamilton

EVERY UNIVERSE.

pairing: (mentor! sebastian vettel x ferrari driver! reader) (charles leclerc x teammate! reader)

summary: qatar is a difficult, hot, and taxing track. that along with you having food poisoning, well…that might not end too well for you. thankfully you can always rely on sebastian and charles to be there for you.

word count: 4k

note: can you guys tell i took inspo from mark webber throwing up in his car and the qatar race this year? it was so sad to watch everyone seem so tired especially lance and logan. anyways, the plot kinda got away from me at the end, i do apologize but the seb feels were too intense 😵‍💫

content warning: car crash, mentions of throwing up, inaccurate depictions of food poisoning

part of this series but can be read without!

“Ready?”

A familiar voice makes you turn around from your pre-race preparations. “Depends on what your definition of ready is.”

Charles smiles, “I know it’s our first race in Qatar but c’mon, it isn’t that bad.”

“Isn’t that bad? I might melt in the car! Doesn’t help that I almost missed this one because of food poisoning.”

“Ah yes, how could I forget that,” he teases. He couldn’t forget it, because you’d been complaining about it endlessly for the past three days. You had food poisoning because Mark Webber invited you to lunch on Thursday, and accidentally gave you something dodgy. You’ve yet to forgive the man. “Well at least you’re starting from P4. Lets you fight for P1, no?”

“Against Lewis and Charles? Please. In my dreams, maybe. Plus, you’re starting P3, asshole.” You retort, turning back around to put your balaclava on. The second it’s on your head, though, it gets pulled off, and you look behind you for the perpetrator. “Charles give it b– SEBASTIAN!”

The Aston Martin driver gives you a grin before hugging you tightly, lifting you off the ground a bit. You didn’t expect to see him before the race, but the surprise was definitely welcome.

“Oh but if it was me I would have gotten scolded,” Charles mutters, but his complaints were left unheard.

“Just came to wish you luck before the race starts. P4! You’re going to get a podium, I’m sure of it,” Sebastian beams, letting you go from the hug.

“That’s what Charles said too. He was more delusionally optimistic, though. Said I was gonna win.”

“Because I believe in you! Is that so bad?” Charles complains from the side, his comment ignored once again.

“Well maybe Charles is right— you could win. Meanwhile I’m starting in the midfield, again.” Sebastian complains, groaning a little bit.

“Oh cheer up Seb, you survived Ferrari for 6 years, you’ll live.”

He lights up a bit at your joke, moving to say something before an Aston Martin mechanic shows up outside the Ferrari garage. He wasn’t allowed inside, but it was obvious he was looking for Sebastian– who also wasn’t allowed inside, yet mysteriously got in. Nothing to do with him being friends with your mechanics of course, yeah, totally not.

“Ah shoot, well it looks like they’re looking for me,” Sebastian sighs. He starts to walk away before he pauses and moves back towards you, “Hey, stay safe, okay? New track, it’s dangerous. I know we’ve done practice and quali but you can never be too careful. Plus, it’s sweltering hot. Hydrate.”

You roll your eyes fondly, “Yes, dad.”

His face scrunches up a little, “Don’t ever call me that again, I’m not that old.”

“You could barely work my Instagram the other day! All I asked was for you to open Lewis’ stories!”

“Psh, whatever. I have to go, see you after the race, yeah?” He asks, giving your arm a quick squeeze. You nod, murmuring a goodbye to him. He wishes Charles good luck too, before saving his engineer from the Ferrari mechanics blocking him.

“So he can pull your balaclava off– which you hate, by the way, let me remind you– but if I even try adjusting your helmet straps so it’s safer you slap me off?” Charles speaks up, making you break eye contact from the Ferrari garage doors.

You roll your eyes at him with a smile, “You have got to forget that. It was one time. And it was a soft slap to the shoulder!”

“The point still stands,” he retorts, making you give up on the conversation.

“Whatever, Charlie. Just get ready for the race. Stay safe, okay?” you say, putting your balaclava on again. He gives you a quick kiss on the cheek before leaving, a sign of good luck between the two of you. It makes you smile a little before you hop into your car.

Okay. Qatar. New track, new conditions, but still the same old you. You could do this.

The lights go off one by one, and you grip the steering wheel with anticipation like you always did. Race starts still made you nervous no matter how long you’d been racing. One light goes off…then the next…then the third…the fourth one follows…and then…

“AND IT’S LIGHTS OUT AND AWAY WE GO!”

The first few laps were a breeze, maintaining your position in fourth despite Fernando being on your tail the whole time. You noticed the car was slightly hotter than usual, but decided to ignore it and chalk it up to new changes in the engine.

Around lap 25 you started to feel a bit dizzy and sick during the sharp corners, cursing yourself internally for having such bad timing with the food poisoning. “Charles is 0.200 seconds ahead, feel free to overtake,” your engineer buzzes through the radio.

“Copy,” you reply, not really paying attention, still feeling sick. You overtake Charles with ease around the outside, him not putting up much of a fight because it would have taken both of you out. Now you just had to maintain this position for…dear god, 32 laps.

“Lewis 5 seconds ahead, focus on tire degradation instead.” Your engineer’s warning goes unheard, though, as you noticed the cockpit was getting way too fucking hot.

“The car’s burning up,” you say into your radio, getting only a simple “Copy, we are checking,” back.

“Okay, Y/N there are no problems with your engines, I repeat; no problem.”

What? That’s impossible. You felt like you were melting in there. “Are you sure? Can you ask Charles if his car feels like the sun too?”

“Negative, focus on the race.”

Oh you were going to kill them one day– if they don’t kill you first. A few more laps passed in those horrible conditions before turn 5 rolled around and as you swerved your car, you started to see black spots around your vision.

That can’t be good, you think, having to close your eyes for a second before shaking your head and snapping yourself back into the race. Thankfully Charles had pitted earlier and had a 3 second gap to you. “I don’t feel too well.”

“Copy. Is it the car?”

“Well it’s definitely part of the problem.”

The next few turns were torture, your head bobbing around as you faded in and out of consciousness through the fast corners. Charles was catching up now, and you knew if you didn’t do something soon, he would pass you.

You wanted this podium. You needed it. If you got P3 you would grab P4 on driver standings.

There was a slow corner coming up that was a good overtaking spot, and so you had to defend.

As the turn came around– faster than you expected– the extreme heat of the car, your headache, sweat, food poisoning, and dizziness came together and you suddenly felt light, as if you were flying, before a jolt knocked you out of your consciousness completely.

You were out for less than a minute, but that minute counted for everything. You completely turned into Charles, him having to swerve onto the gravel just so you wouldn’t crash into each other. Your car, however, still had more speed in it, and you were headed towards the wall on the very far side of the gravel.

Thankfully, the rough rocks had shook you awake enough that you were able to swerve away from the wall extremely last minute and only take the tail and back wheel of your car out.

The next few seconds were a blur.

You still felt faint, but could hear a muffled voice headed towards you. You knew the back of your car was completely ruined and you were out of the race, and you put your helmet in your hands in disappointment. You were having such a good run before this happened. Stupid, stupid, stupid.

The muffled voice running towards you was closer now, and you registered it to be Charles. He was saying something but you could barely hear him with how your ears were ringing and how the seat of the car was still hot.

The man quickly realized you weren’t hearing him, and opted to come closer and lift your visor up. “Smoke. Car. Get out!”

He didn’t need to tell you twice. You pushed yourself up but barely, Charles having to lift you up by your shoulders. Once out of the car you completely collapsed on the floor, only having your teammate catch you.

“I think I’m gonna throw up,” you say drowsily, still fighting the urge to pass out.

“Safety car is coming, stay with me now,” he replies, tapping your helmet so you stay awake. You were grateful your friend was there with you.

On track, however, Sebastian had just been informed of what went down. “What the fuck? What happened?”

“L/N completely turned into Leclerc. Driver error, push on for P9.”

Sebastian hated how his engineer sounded like a robot reporting a technical statistic. He saw the aftermath of the accident for a split second, and it didn’t look like your car was in good shape. He worries about what shape you were in. “Are they okay?”

“Safety car is coming out for L/N and to crane the car, but other than that they seem fine.”

“Injuries?”

“Please focus on the race, Sebastian.”

“INJURIES!” he shouts into his radio, annoyed. He wouldn’t be able to focus on the race until he knew you were alright.

“Uh…L/N seems to be out of it and on the floor, but they’re okay. They’ll be fine, Seb.” His engineer adds the last statement to reassure the man. He knew you meant a lot to him. Seb nods to himself in the car, carrying on with the race. The faster this finished the faster he could get to you.

The safety car came out and they all slowed down, Sebastian finally being able to take a second long look at the accident. Your car was still there, the smoke coming out of it being extinguished by a personnel. Sebastian thinks he ought to have a word with the Ferrari mechanics after the race. He then notices you, on your knees in the gravel, only being kept up by a driver he can only assume to be Charles. Sebastian thinks that should be him there supporting you, but at the same time he’s glad he wasn’t the one who you nearly crashed into. He couldn’t have it on his consciousness that he could have hit you.

“‘m sorry for ruining your race,” you mumble, still being held up by Charles. The man shakes his head, “It was ruined before that, don’t worry. My engine was acting up.”

You knew he was lying to make you feel better, his engine was completely fine. He was headed for the podium earlier, his first in a while. And you completely botched his chance to get it. The thought makes you sob a little, along with the fact that you ruined your own race.

Crying wasn’t the greatest thing to do, though, as it only made you more lightheaded. Charles notices this and takes your helmet off for you, despite your protests pre-race. You were grateful that he did, though, as the second he took your helmet and balaclava off you felt like you had a breath of fresh air for the first time.

“Better?”

You nod, unable to speak. You still felt dizzy and sick. Charles felt annoyed that the safety personnel were taking so long to get to you, waving them over to walk quicker. Squinting your eyes a little, you find them with some health personnels, and you sink a little lower into the gravel.

“God not again,” you groan, remembering the events that unfolded back in Spa. You did not need to go to the medical tent. As you attempt to get up, however, you fall back down as your vision blurred. Looks like medical tent it is again.

The rest of the race went particularly well. Lewis won the race and Fernando got his first podium since 2014– which you reminded yourself to congratulate him for once you were out of the medical tent– and Seb ended up P9, a position higher than where he started. That would usually be a mediocre result but with his shitty car, you were pretty impressed.

“Water?” A familiar voice makes you look away from the TV screen in the room. Charles sat beside your bed, holding a plastic bottle of water. You nod and take it from him, chugging the cool liquid down.

“Sorry again for ruining your race,” you say as you finish drinking. Charles shakes his head, “Stop apologizing. You passed out, that was no fault of yours.”

“You passed out!?” A loud concerned voice makes both of you snap your head towards the door of the room. Sebastian stood there, still in his race suit like the both of you, a shocked look on his face.

“Is that what happened? You passed out mid race?” He asks again, but this time softer. He walks towards your medical bed– which you insisted you didn’t need– before putting his hand on your forehead to check if you had a fever. The action makes you giggle, but Sebastian had a serious look that shut you up quickly.

He shakes his head with a sigh, “You have a bit of a fever.”

“Any other fun observations?”

Sebastian didn’t seem to be in the mood for your wit, though. “You could have been injured. Just a few meters and you could have fully hit the wall. If you were just a few seconds late waking up you would have–”

He shuts his eyes and stops himself. He didn’t want to think about what could have happened anymore. His voice got wobbly during the end of his statement, making you realize that he was stopping himself from crying. You absentmindedly sit up and reach for his hand, squeezing it gently.

“I’m here, Seb. And I’m fine. Look at me.”

The older driver does, slowly opening his eyes. You squeeze his hand a second time, a soft smile on your lips. “I’m here. And look, I’m completely fine. You’re not getting rid of me that quickly old man.”

Seb lets out a chuckle at that, moving to hug you tightly.

“Don’t ever scare me like that again,” he mumbles into your hair. “Why did you even pass out?”

“I was already a little dizzy before getting in the car because of the heat but I tried ignoring it. The car was overheating too and it made me dehydrated, I think. My drink pouch wasn’t a lot of help either when the water was steaming hot. Plus…” you trail off, not really wanting to talk ill of Webber.

“Mark gave her food poisoning when he took her to lunch,” Charles butted in, making you give him a look. You forgot he was in the room.

“Mark? As in Webber?” Sebastian asks, Charles nodding in response. “The bastard.”

“Oh c’mon Seb, he just wanted to treat me to lunch. It’s not like he poisoned my food on purpose.”

Seb sighs deeply before agreeing, “You’re right. Sorry. I’m just– I don’t know.”

“I get it. I mean, this is my second time at the medical tent in three months. Makes you think how accident prone I am,” you joke. Sebastian laughs, and you’re glad you got the worried look in his face away.

“The one in Spa was completely your fault, but we may have to pin this one on Mark,” Seb teases. You shoot him a grin, “Yeah, we can say that.”

Before you could talk more, though, a PR person from both Ferrari and Aston Martin came in to fetch Charles and Sebastian.

“What about me?” you ask, getting up from your bed. It wasn’t like you were injured or anything, you were just a little sick and had a bit of a stomach ache. You’d already thrown up earlier, so you felt pretty normal now.

“Sorry, we have orders to keep you here.”

You scoff, “Please. What can they do if I walk out?”

Before the Ferrari PR agent could reply, though, you were already out the room. She stands there helpless, making Sebastian and Charles chuckle to each other before following you. You were always stubborn when you wanted to be.

The second you’re out of the medical tent, camera flashes overwhelm your eyes. You walk past them as you always do, but the contrast of the light to the night sky makes you a bit lightheaded again, having to hold Sebastian’s arm for support. He moves your hand from his arm to his own hand, interlocking it with yours and pull you through the crowd. There were no words needed to be said, he always knew what you needed. You’re starting to think he can read minds.

Once past the annoying lot of cameras, you make it to the media pen where at least they pestered you in a more civil way. The interviewers were all over you and Charles, looking for some inside scoop on ‘Ferrari drama.’ Turns out, the media thought you tried to purposely take Charles out a la brocedes style. Because of this you had to clarify to every person you talked to that, “No, I did not try to take Charles out on purpose. I passed out. We’re good. Yes, we’re still friends.”

Once that was all over, you headed over to the Channel 4 area to give a certain someone a piece of your mind. “Mark Webber.”

The man turns around to the mention of his full name, smiling when he notices who it is. “Y/N! Glad you’ve come and joined us! We’re on in about five minutes, we can do a segment about the crash but if you wanna talk about something else on screen that’s fine too, we can–”

“You gave me food poisoning!” you butt in. “I cannot believe you.” His coworkers give him a look, as if they were holding in a laugh at him being scolded.

Mark stands there with his mouth agape, unsure what to say. “Wasn’t that three days ago? Are you sure it’s me?”

Rolling your eyes, you reply, “Yes, I’m sure it’s you. It started three days ago, and guess who I was with when I ate something unusual three days ago? Oh right, it’s you!”

He pauses for a moment before bursting into laughter, trying to cover his mouth to no avail. “Sorry, it’s not funny that you almost crashed, I’m glad you’re safe, but– ha!– I cannot believe it was because of the dodgy Indian food!”

You gave him a shove, trying to act mad, but the smile on your face betrayed you. His laughter was contagious. “You are such an asshole.”

“Awh cheer up,” he gives you a side hug, ruffling your hair a little. “Sorry for giving you food poisoning, mate. I’ll make it up to you, whaddya think about lunch on me tomorrow?”

You escape his side hug when you hear him say that, “Absolutely not! I’m never trusting you again with food recommendations.”

The statement makes him laugh again, and you chuckle along with him. Hard to be mad at someone who didn’t do it on purpose. Sebastian walked over to the two of you, having watched the interaction from afar.

“Look who’s coming over,” Mark mumbled, making you notice Seb trying to pretend to just ‘bump’ into the two of you. “Still competitive ‘till now, eh? Don’t worry, I’m not trying to out-mentor you,” Mark says out loud, grabbing the attention of the German.

Seb tilts his head with a faux oblivious look, “I have no idea what you’re talking about.” He grabs you by the arm and ‘discreetly’ pulls you over to his side. ‘No idea’ my ass.

The Australian scoffs with a grin, “Whatever you say mate. Listen, I gotta get back because our feed is going live in a few minutes, but you two take care, alright? Nice to see you again Seb.”

“You too, Mark.” Sebastian replies, this time genuinely. While the media knew the two drivers were now on good terms, they didn’t know just how close they had gotten. The two went bowling at least once every two months just to catch up with each other, you being there for half their competitions– yes, they still competed. Apparently that sense of wanting to beat your former teammate does not go away. So far this year, Mark’s been winning.

Before Mark completely walked away, he looked back at you for a second, “Oh, and, I am happy you got out injury free from that nasty crash. Genuinely glad you’re okay. Sorry that my dodgy food contributed to your sickness.”

You wave him off, “It’s fine, Mark. It’s not like you could’ve known I would get food poisoning. Although, next time maybe check online reviews.”

“I’ll keep that in mind,” he smiled, waving you a goodbye as he ran to his coworkers who were already getting impatient.

You shake your head with a grin, “Well at least that’s over with.”

Sebastian slings his arm around your shoulder, “True. So want to get dinner?”

“Absolutely not. I think I’m done with food for a good while.”

“Well you have to eat something,” he insists, as you both walk through the paddock. “How about we get room service?”

“Eh, it’s late, I don’t really want a repeat of Monaco 2019.”

Monaco 2019 was when you and Seb got room service at 10pm because you didn’t check the time. Safe to say the staff weren’t very happy with that. You both felt so bad while eating that food.

“We can just get McDonalds then,” you suggest.

“McDonalds?” Charles asks, popping out from god knows where.

“Jesus, where the hell were you hiding? The atoms?” You ask.

“I was here the whole time.”

“You were not,” Sebastian comments. Charles simply shrugs, tagging along with the two of you, not caring that he was obviously third wheeling a moment. “So McDonalds?”

You roll your eyes, “Yes, McDonalds. But you’re paying because you’re tagging along.”

“No fair! Sebastian is richer than me!”

You both give Charles a look at the same time. Charles thinks it’s eerie how alike the two of you were.

“Charles,” Sebastian starts, patting the Monegasque’s back with one arm with his other still slung around your shoulders. Your accident made him very clingy, but you weren’t about to tell him that. “Let me phrase this as nicely as I can; you are from Monaco. You are rich.”

Charles lets out a sigh, “Fine. I’ll buy the food.”

You clap, “Fuck yeah! Food on the rich man!”

“We have the same salary in our contracts?”

“Shh, that’s not important,” you say, shushing Charles. “Food on the rich man! Although, we may have to go to the hotel right after and just get take out. I can feel Mark’s Indian food from three days ago still fighting with me.”

Charles is the one to roll his eyes this time, “I’ll get the car so we can get there faster, your highness.”

“Thank you, Lord Perceval.”

“Don’t call me that!” he shouts, already walking away to the parking lot.

That left you and Sebastian alone again, just enjoying the company of one another, walking slowly down the paddocks. There were few people now, most having gone back to their hotels to call it a night.

“You know, I’m glad I found you.”

The words make you look up at the older driver, who you find smiling at you. “What do you mean by that?”

“I mean obviously we would find each other, there’s only so many drivers in Formula One. But I mean I’m glad I found you in this life.”

“Do you think we don’t find each other in other lives?”

Sebastian pauses and thinks for a second. He’s thought about the other career paths he could have taken throughout his life– other lives he could have lived. He knows there’s no logical way, but he thinks he still would have found you in those lives. The thought makes him smile to himself.

“No, I think we do.”

“Well then good. Because me too,” you reply, giving him a smile of your own. “Why did you suddenly think about it though?”

Sebastian shrugs, “I don’t know. I just felt suddenly sentimental. Feels like a chapter of my life closed but I’m not sure what or why.”

Little did he know that he would start contemplating retirement a few weeks after that.

“Oh well, it doesn’t matter. Whether we find each other in other lifetimes, I mean.”

Seb raises his eyebrow, him now being the one confused. “What do you mean?”

“I mean we’re both here now. Enjoying each other’s company. Why bother thinking about versions of ourselves in other universes when we’ve got each other in this one?”

Sebastian gives you the most genuine, softest smile at that. “I love you, I don’t tell you that enough.”

You scrunch your face, “Ew. Sounds like a love confession. Sorry but you’re too old for me.”

“You know what I mean. I love you but not in that way. That’s just gross,” Sebastian says, hitting your shoulder.

“Relax old man, I’m just teasing,” you giggle, trying to avoid his hit. “Love you too. Ew. Sorry, not great with verbal affection. Pretty sure that just made me throw up a bit, and that’s not even with the help of the food poisoning.”

Sebastian just shakes his head, “Okay c’mon now, Charles will be annoyed with how slow we’re walking.”

Later that night, the three of you watched a cheesy romcom while sharing a shit load of fries and chicken nuggets. As you carried on through the night you thought to yourself that despite the hardships of F1, the crashing, the disappointments, the injuries– it brought you a second family you never thought you’d have. And you wouldn’t trade it for any other universe.

Although, maybe a universe where you didn’t get food poisoning.

[notmyneighbor]

Scarlet Milk - Doppelganger Francis Mosses/The Milkman x Female Reader

Word Count - 5.2k

Rating - Explicit

CW - sexual content, blood drinking

Also available on AO3

fanart by kaworinx

Your eyes flick to the clock mounted on the wall. Your morning shift at the telephone exchange was almost over.

“What number, please?”

You scan the switchboard for the correct sequence, removing and plugging in the jack to connect the call seamlessly. The next number requested is for a different exchange and you transfer the call with barely a delay.

At last it’s time to set the headset down. Your work as a telephone operator is done for the day.

Business in the telephone exchange office had really picked up since the war, and had increased further still after the DDD began their operation to help identify and weed out the invading doppelgangers. It’s the perfect time to work, getting as many hours as you need and stowing away the extra funds for a rainy day.

You ride a bicycle to work since your employer isn’t far from home. A little rougher going in the winter months, but now it was spring, the weather warming up nicely, the budding trees and renewed verdant color in lawns further signs that the seasons were changing.

You’ve barely left the city behind and entered the suburbs before you run into trouble: a sharp object, perhaps a bit of glass or metal, has punctured one of your tires. You slip off the bike seat after coming to a bumpy halt, now forced to walk alongside the bike the rest of the way home. You think there’s a repair kit lurking somewhere in the house, you’re just not entirely sure where.

You spy a milk delivery sitting near the front door of one of the houses you pass, still remaining unclaimed at this late morning hour. A small blue and yellow bird perched on the rim of one of the bottles is startled by your presence and temporarily abandons its assault on the foil lid before it regains its confidence and returns, the beak breaching the barrier so that it can drink the rich cream that has risen to the top. Clever, naughty thing. You’d shoo him away but you know it or one of its brethren will just return anyway. You had to be careful nowadays, leaving something like that unprotected.

You had to be careful nowadays, period.

You spy the milkman’s truck further up the road, the driver near the tailgate, lifting his cap and dragging the back of a pale wrist against his perspiring forehead. The rear of the vehicle is empty, the goods inside all distributed for the day’s route.

Your pace slows as you draw closer, nodding a greeting to the man. You don’t recognize him. Maybe a new hire for the dairy company. The other driver had been getting older. Maybe he’d finally retired. At least, you hoped his sudden absence was for that pleasant reason and not something more sinister relating to the doppels. “Good morning.”

“Good morning.” His voice is warm and friendly. You see his eyes focus on the deflated tire, then back up to your face. “Flat tire, huh? Need a lift?”

“Oh, no, I can manage, thank you. I’m nearly there.”

“I’m heading that way. There’s no reason to tax yourself.”

You shake your head. “Really, I’m fine.”

He shrugs. “Alright, then. Get home safe.” You watch as he seals the back doors and returns to the driver’s side, climbing up and settling behind the wheel. You suddenly feel foolish. The man was just trying to be kind, surely. He starts the engine and eases back onto the road slowly, decelerating to a meager crawl to keep pace with you, calling to you through the open window. “Last chance to change your mind.” He smiles. Handsome. He has such an honest face. Weary eyes. The early mornings no doubt leaving those inky shadows on ivory skin. He must be eager to be home now that his job was completed, yet he was still offering to help.

In spite of your earlier caution, you find yourself feeling it would be rude to decline again, and you accept the milkman’s offer. “Alright, thank you. I promise it’s not far and then you can be on your way. I’m sure you want to get home.”

The truck halts, the breaks squeaking slightly. Your bicycle is lifted effortlessly and stowed in the back. There’s no seat inside save for the driver, so you remain standing, bracing yourself against the rear of the cab awkwardly. At least you don’t have far to go.

“Anyone at home to help you with that flat tire?”

“No, I live alone,” you admit, then silently curse yourself. You shouldn’t be volunteering that kind of information, even if it was the truth. Your brother had left you with the inherited house after he’d moved in with his new wife last year, still disappointed that you hadn’t found someone yet, disapproving of your decision to choose to live independently in such strange, dangerous times. Now you’ve just revealed this vulnerable fact to a stranger. A male stranger.

“The birds have been at your deliveries again,” you say, searching for something to fill the sudden silence.

“So I’ve seen. They can’t resist the cream. Interesting story about that. It’s only one particular species, have you noticed?”

“I haven’t, actually.”

“They had no trouble before they started sealing the bottles, but even after the lids were implemented they persisted until they found a way to get inside. Taught the others how to do it, too. Adaptation and evolution are necessary for survival.”

“I suppose you’re right. This is my house here,” you point and the driver slows and stops, parking the truck along the curb and shutting off the engine.

“Let me give you a hand unloading the bicycle.”

“I appreciate it, thank you.”

“No problem.” The milkman stands. Suddenly the cab of the truck feels very small. He’s positioned so that he’s blocking the doorway, making no move to head to the back where your bike is being stored. The smile on your features slides off like melting ice cream on a summer day.

No. He couldn’t be.

Your heart begins to beat rapidly. The smile he offers doesn’t quiet touch his eyes this time.

“Actually, I’ll just um…I can get it. Thank you for the lift.” You try to ease past him, thinking to make your escape through the rear of the vehicle instead, but he slaps out an arm to bar your path, crowding you against the steel frame.

“We’re adapting, too. Evolving constantly. Getting better and better at blending in. Finding new ways to breach your homes and sate our hunger.”

“Please don’t kill me.” As if the doppelganger would have mercy. You feel tears pooling in your eyes. How foolish you had been, walking into his trap. Why hadn’t you trusted your instincts?

“I’m not going to kill you. Not yet, anyway. See, it’s occurred to me to take a page from those birds’ books, so to speak. Sample the sweetest, most nutritious part. And let the rest of the meal live on, thereby providing an endless supply, rather than gorging on one human in a single sitting, then being forced to find another. We’ve already seen what happens when we indulge too voraciously. It’s why we were forced to visit your planet, after all.”

“I don’t…I don’t understand.”

“Your blood. That is what I desire. A sample each time, and then you go about your daily life as usual. A fair deal, isn’t it? Certainly a better offer than most of my kin would give you.”

“You want to…to…” You can even bring yourself to utter it out loud.

“Drink your blood, yes.”

“Like a vampire,” you whisper in horror.

“Something like that.”

“What if I refuse?”

“Then I consume you right here and now.”

Two tears spill over your cheeks. The doppel clucks his tongue. “There’s no need for that. It’s really a very obvious choice. The sooner you agree, the sooner I’ll be out of your hair for the remainder of the day.”

“Is it…is it going to hurt?”

“Not as badly as me tearing you apart with my claws, I assure you.” His features soften, and that impression of how handsome the original man he’s copied must be strikes you again. “This doesnt need to be violent. It will go easier for you if you don’t resist.”

You swallow thickly, trying to summon courage. “How do you know I won’t just call the DDD?”

“Because that would be a very, very foolish thing to do. And I think you are smarter than that, aren’t you?” His nostrils flare slightly and he inhales deeply. “I’m getting hungry. Do you agree to my terms or not?”

“What guarantee do I have that you’re not just going to kill me anyway?”

“None, other than my word.”

You could almost laugh. An invader asking you to trust him. To allow yourself to be fed upon until…when would this conceivably end? “How long will I have to do this for?”

He shrugs. “It depends.”

“On what?”

“Many things. How many others will supplement my diet. How much I decide to take. This will end whenever I say it ends,” he adds in a growl, and you shudder.

You close your eyes. “Alright. Just get it over with.”

“Not here. Wouldn’t want the neighbors to see, now, would we? Hop on down and I’ll deliver your bicycle. Then we can go inside and…have a little snack.”

You wish your neighbors would see your plight, but there’s no one to help you. The elderly man across the street was probably well into his morning nap. The young couple next door both worked. The housewife who lived on the other side was undoubtedly busy with chores, the children at school.

The doppelganger leans your damaged bike against the fence, following you up to the door, waiting for you to unlock it.

So. You really were going to invite him inside after all.

Normally you’d be fixing lunch at this time. Maybe doing some housework yourself. Now you set your keys in the trivet dish by the door and tuck your shoes neatly beside the frame, watching the doppel shut the door behind him.

“Come here.”

You’d taken a couple of steps further into the hallway and his voice makes you jerk to a halt. You warily turn back.

That smile again. Your stomach flips nervously as you move to stand beside him.

He makes a little hum of sound, pleased you’re being obedient and cooperative. Your hair is already pinned up, your throat exposed. Assuming that was where he was going to bite you. The thought makes your breath hitch and you close your eyes again, willing the moment to be over.

You feel the heat of his breath as he leans closer to your neck, hear another deep inhale. His lips graze your skin in the barest whisper of a kiss. His tongue traces a line down the side of your neck and then there is pain, sharp and fast, your body reflexively trying to pull away but his arms fasten around you, clutching your body against his.

“Relax,” he urges you again, his mouth lifting just long enough to issue the command to you before it returns and you feel the suction, the wet heat, that terrible drag of your life force pulled from the vessel beneath the skin. A little moan accompanies that gesture, sending vibrations as the alien savors the taste of you. Your fingers curl in his work shirt as you’re pushed back against the door. If there had been anyone there to see, it would have looked as if you were a young couple in the throes of passion. But there is no one witnessing this act. It is just you and the doppelganger.

“Enough,” he murmurs, his face revealed once more, no longer supping from your throat. You reach for the wound, surprised to find your hands coming away clean. No blood. Just scabbed puncture marks you can palpate with the pads of your fingers.

He’s breathing heavily. It had been hard to stop, maybe, fighting that natural instinct to kill and ravage. The dark eyes are bloodshot, a pair of fangs visible before they’re retracted again, the red haze gradually clearing as he continues staring at you. His appearance returns to that of the milkman he’s impersonating and he finally steps back.

“Tomorrow,” he says, a promise, a threat, before he exits, leaving you trembling, your fingers still cradling your neck. You hear the truck’s engine rumble to life.

Tomorrow.

***

He visits again the following evening.

You don’t know why you’d expected the doppelganger to be at your door at any particular time. Your anxiety has been peaking in anticipation. Dreading the next feeding. Still wondering what’s to stop him from just killing you anyway.

The marks he’d left had been surprisingly tidy. Easy enough to conceal. You’d struggled at work that day, your normally nimble hands and sharp eyes faltering more than once, your performance lacking. Your supervisor certainly noticed. You’d been spoken to. A warning.

Maybe you should take the next day off. Maybe you should…

A knock at the door interrupts your musings and you look up from the novel you’ve been attempting to distract yourself with.

He was here.

The temptation to phone the DDD is there again. But it would take them time to get here. You’d certainly be destroyed for your breach of contract long before the disposal team arrived.

You open the door.

He’s still wearing the milkman’s uniform, although this time he’s shed the cap, revealing the thick wavy brown hair that had been hiding beneath. Wordlessly you step back to make room for him to enter. Your eyes are on the floor now, suddenly shy. You hear the door being closed.

“Look at me.”

Your eyes lift and you gaze at the doppel through your lashes. Surely he could hear how elevated your pulse is. Did that entice him, that rapid flow of crimson liquid?

The mimic moves behind you, one arm wrapping around your waist, pulling you back against him. Fingers guide your head to dip to one side, a gentle nudge before his lips are at your neck again. The same side as before. They press more firmly this time. The stripe he licks reaches all the way to your ear lobe. A whimper escapes you. It feels good, even though it shouldn’t.

The sharp pair of the monster’s cuspids pierce your throat. Another choked sound escapes you, this one a blurred mixture of pain and pleasure. The fingers resting against your abdomen dig in. His other hand is braced against your chin, manipulating your head, keeping you in position while he takes what he desires.

You clutch at the hand on your stomach. You think you’d faint if you didn’t have him at your back. There is something hard pressing against you there, another need digging into the cleft of your buttocks. Arousal. Your cheeks feel hot. There are no longer teeth sunk into your neck but his mouth is still there, laving and caressing the injured flesh. Soft, wet kisses planted. “So sweet,” he breathes against your ear. “Your scarlet milk is the sweetest I’ve ever tasted.”

He departs minutes later and you stare at your reflection in the bathroom mirror as you get ready for bed, wondering why you’re not more afraid.

***

The milk delivery truck is parked outside your home when you arrive there the next afternoon.

You lean your mended bike against the picket fence. There are people outside. Someone is raking leaves from last autumn. Children are tossing a ball back and forth. The doppelganger has a bottle of milk in his hand, the tips of his fingers clutching it by the neck. He’s leaning against the outside of the truck.

“Come inside,” you hiss, not trusting him not to make a spectacle right there and then. He smirks at your invitation, following you inside.

There are sunspots in front of your eyes. It was so bright outdoors. The interior of your house is darker, cooler. “You should be more discreet,” you mutter, your hands rubbing together restlessly. Nervous. You’re so nervous.

“No one is paying any attention. They didn’t care when I took the truck. They hand the goods over willingly. It’s made finding other…donors…so simple. Your kind is so oblivious to what’s right in front of them.”

“How many other people are you…?” The idea of the imposter operating as a milkman making deliveries as a guise to shield his true purpose of seeking more sources of that sinister meal he craves twists your stomach in knots. Worried. You’re guilty over what’s happening to your neighbors. Not necessarily your fault, but you knew about it, and you allowed it, participated in it…

“Not many. Discretion is best, we agree on that much.” He tips his head to one side thoughtfully. “Are you jealous?”

“Jealous? Why would I be jealous?”

“Don’t worry. You’re still my favorite treat.”

“I’m not jealous,” you reply defensively, perhaps a little too much vehemence behind the words. Was there some of that mixed in your emotions as well?

“You should let me give you a ride home one of these days,” he murmurs.

You frown, your reverie dissolving. “Why?”

“Because,” he drawls. Not an answer. His upper eyelids drip languidly as he sets the bottle on the kitchen counter. The foil lid is soon demolished into a crumpled ball. He drives a middle finger into the cream gathered at the top of the bottle, scooping out a dollop of the thick substance. “Open your mouth.”

“What?”

“This is the best part, isn’t it? You humans seem to enjoy it. Open,” he commands again, and this time there is a bit of a threat there, the easygoing teasing suddenly disappearing. His eyes darken and your lips part obediently. The digit pierces those borders and drives straight back across your tongue, your eyelashes fluttering, surprised, the brisk invasive movement catching you off guard. Your mouth closes reflexively over the offering and the wedge of muscle presses his finger against the top of your soft palate, the pad brushing past the ridges to find the smoother flesh as he offers you a taste. Your stroke across the joint of his knuckle, then the nail bed as he slowly withdraws back through the tight ring of your mouth, finally emerging with a soft popping sound.

“Good?” The word is croaked out hoarsely. Your heart jackhammers as you nod. You watch as he repeats the gesture in his own mouth, brow furrowing over the taste as he considers the flavor of the cream. “I prefer you instead.”

The doppel’s lips touch your throat. You can’t stop the needy sound that escapes. “I won’t see you for a few days. Need to let your body rest and replenish. You’re of no use to me without the proper nutrition.” He nips your ear lobe. “So I’m going to stay a little longer today. Prolong things. I’m sure you don’t mind.” His hands have found the bottom of your skirt, lifting the hem. There are curtains on the windows but anyone standing close enough outside could look in and see what’s happening. Your cheeks burn with shame, that rush of heat further elevated because some part of you wants this. His fingers snake beneath the waistband of your panties and dip between your legs, swiping through the arousal leaking from you to collect a sample.

He licks them clean. An appreciative hum. “Now this, I really enjoy. Why don’t you hop up here.” You never get the chance because he lifts you first, setting you on the edge of the counter. Your skirt is flipped back impatiently again, your panties dragged roughly down. And you allow it. You allow the manhandling of your clothes, your body, manipulated into balancing precariously on the edge before he pulls a chair from under the kitchen table over and settles into it, his fingernails lightly scratching against your thighs before he parts them and buries his face into your sex.

Your head tips back and you bite your bottom lip as the doppel explores the sensitive pink flesh, enthusiastically swirling his tongue over the folds and your clit before pushing inside you. The hands curled around your thighs are changing, the nails digging in no longer the replicated human’s. The tongue violating your canal seems to lengthen, expanding. You’re afraid to see and yet you want to watch, your fingers burrowing into his hair. Bloodshot eyes, the doppel’s easing through, yellow tinged, pupils now sharp, narrow, a flash of teeth before his mouth shifts impossibly wide, more than a human jaw could ever accommodate, sucking at your clit while still fucking you with his tongue. A monster is ravaging your body and your only thought is MORE. The wedge of muscle curves inside you, tapping in staccato movements against the shallow secluded shelf of hidden pleasure and it sends you over the edge immediately, keening and shaking as he continues sucking and stabbing until you can’t stand it anymore, your legs trying to close, the hand that had been pulling him against your pussy now trying to push him away.

He finally surrenders, mouth parting reluctantly from your sex. You’re on fire, every nerve tingling in your extremities, at your center, where the pulse is strongest. A satisfied grin, a flash of sharp teeth aligned in a row, before the imposter milkman stands, kicking the chair back so hard it knocks over. His fingers sink into your hair and he jerks your head back, grabbing one of your hands and pressing it over the bump in his trousers. You fumble the fly open, dragging his needy erection through the flap of his briefs. It’s large and hot and your hands seem too small, too delicate to stroke that engorged organ properly.

“Milk it. Make me cum.” His lips hover before your own. You wonder why he hasn’t kissed you on the mouth yet. Would those razor slivers of bone slice you to ribbons? The morphed tongue strokes the angle of your jaw. Your hand is working in harsh, jerky movements. Clumsy. You’re panting with fear and desire. You can’t reach his mouth at this angle so your lips find his throat instead, the patch of skin just above the fastened work shirt and knotted bowtie. He growls and bellows as your fingers finally, finally seem to have adapated, smoothing a gush of precum over the sensitive crown. Large as it was, his prick still felt human enough, so perhaps it was the same, or perhaps he still had yet to reveal its true nature. A moan now hummed against your throat, this soft and pleading noise the polar opposite of the menancing sound he’d emitted moments before. Teeth scrape your neck. The veins in his cock bulge against your hand. He’s so swollen, so ready to erupt. Fangs begin to dig into your flesh. Only a pair. He’s shifted appearances again, protecting you somewhat. You wonder how much of a struggle it is to keep it in check, during the height of something like this. The teeth descend further and you feel the suction as he pulls your blood into his mouth just as a hot spill of seed bathes your hand. He leans forward and your free hand reaches back to brace yourself, sending the milk bottle onto its side, mirroring the white flood that now coats your skin. He sucks and it aches and it feels like a second orgasm building inside of you.

At last, at last he draws back, and it is a human’s face you see, with shadow smudged eyes and mussed hair and swollen lips. The urge to kiss him flares anew but he backs away. You’re suddenly aware of the dairy product that’s spread across the counter, sinking into your clothes, spilling over the edge and dripping onto the floor. The doppel rights the chair he’d tipped over earlier. Clothes are straightened into some semblance of order.

You’re normally relieved when he departs. Today you find yourself clutching his sleeve as he reaches for the doorknob. Something has happened between you two, besides the obvious. A new kind of intimacy blossoming, satisfying other, more primal needs. Adapting and evolving like the doppel had said, perhaps.

“I’ll see you soon.” Not tomorrow. He’s already told you that. An anemic blood supply will not satisfy him. You’re more lightheaded than you’re letting on. He’s taken so much already, but you still want to give him more. “Soon,” he repeats. Then he’s gone.

***

In the dream, you’re in your bed, trying to achieve a slumber that won’t come. You toss and turn restlessly. Get a glass of water. Use the restroom. Flip your pillow over to the cooler side. Shift the covers. It’s no use. You can’t sleep.

You’re thinking about the doppelganger.

About that smile, that warm breath and wicked mouth and wet tongue. His body pressing against yours. Tasting you. Cumming in your hand. The vampiric kisses. It should be terrifying, knowing he holds your life in his hands, your fate determined by the whim of an alien creature.

The replicant is back.

You sense him before he even taps on the glass of the French doors that lead from you bedroom into a private garden area in the back yard. You recognize that shape behind the gauzy curtains that shield the glass, flinging back the comforter and sliding out of bed. The cool air wafts over you as you open the door. You’re only wearing a thin nightgown. You shouldn’t be dressed like this in front of him. You shouldn’t be doing any of the things you’ve been doing with him.

His palm settles warm against the side of your neck. His mouth touches yours for the first time.

Heat pools in your sex. He tastes like metal, copper heavy on your tongue. There is the flavor of tart wine and something smokey as your body is pressed down onto the bed. Your fingers siphon through his hair. You can feel his erection again, demanding somewhere near your own groin. His hips cant slightly and you both moan softly.

The hem of your nightgown is slid up the length of your thigh. You can feel the sharp points of the claws that tear your panties from your body, a casual display that leaves you gasping. A faint jingle of a belt moving and the whine of the metal teeth of a zipper parting and then his cock is shoved into your slickened entrance.

The tongue that twines around yours feels foreign now, the doppel revealing more of his true form. Long and thick, like the prick that’s invading your pussy. Your brain in its dream state has no sense of shame. There is nothing but desire, hot and wet. The front of your nightgown is sliced through, the fabric easily parting beneath the sharp claws that have replaced human nails. Your breasts are kneaded as the sound of lewd slapping fills the air, wet noises from your joined mouths, from the cock pounding into your dripping cunt. Had he been hungry? You’d been starving, you realize. Craving this. Undeniably wrong but oh so right.

“Bite me.” In your waking state, you’d never issued such a request. Only in dreams could you be bold enough. Your fingers clutch the nape of his neck, encouraging him as your knees dig into his ribs. You gift him your blood and he gifts you a load of something thicker, creamier, milky shots of cum spurting deep inside of you. There are stars in front of your eyes, fireworks, bursting lights in the darkness. He kisses your mouth and the tang of your own lifeforce is strong there. His teeth are still sharp. He hasn’t changed back. You kiss him again anyway.

***

Your eyes open.

It’s raining. You can hear the soft patter of it against the roofing shingles above. Your heart is hammering wildly. Your entire body is drenched in sweat, your panties soaked with something more carnal. You fling back the sheet and blanket much as you had in the dream, padding barefoot into the adjoining bathroom. You need a shower. You feel soiled.

You wish the events of the dream had really happened.

It’s been five days since you’ve seen the doppelganger. The water of the shower spills over you, pelting you gently. You drag the bar of soap over your body. There is something thick and wet between your legs, the fluids of your arousal a different kind of wetness than the spray of water. Your clit is swollen. You wish for his fingers, his tongue. You circle the raised bundle until your body trembles, until you’re forced to lean against the shower wall for support.

You shut off the faucet and towel yourself dry before pulling on a clean nightgown. You burrow your face into your pillow and think of the mimic’s smile until sleep reclaims you once more.

***

A week has passed. Now you think something must be wrong. The doppelganger’s delayed absence can’t be intentional.

Perhaps the DDD had gotten to him. Someone had seen something, called. Maybe not all his ‘donors’ were quite as willing as yourself. A hot flame builds inside you. You are jealous, after all.

It’s raining on the night he finally returns. Later than he has ever been. The water has soaked his skin, his clothing. There is only the living room lamp on to illuminate your view of the alien creature, looking so pitiful standing there, a drenched figure with tired eyes and dark hair plastered flat against his head, the rainwater spilling over the sharp angles of his cheeks and nose, over the gentle curves of his lips.

He steps inside and closes the door. Your breathing is harsh, rapid. A match for his own. “Where have you been?”

“Did you miss me?”

You bite the inside of your cheek. His voice drags against you skin like velvet. “No.”

“Liar.”

You reach for each other at the same time. Your fingers knot into the saturated fabric of his work shirt while his close over your upper arm, crowding you back against the door. “Where have you been?” You repeat again, your voice gentler this time. “I thought the DDD had gotten to you, I…”

“You were worried about me.”

“Yes,” you admit reluctantly.

“You missed me.”

“Yes.”

His thumb briefly strokes one cheek. “I missed you, too.”

“Why don’t you ever kiss me?”

“I do. Quite a lot, in fact. In many places,” he adds, smirking a little, some of his customary teasing emerging.

“You know what I mean. On the mouth.” Your voice is barely above a whisper.

“Because,” he says, and for a moment you think he won’t answer you properly again, dodging the question, but then he continues, “that means something very, very different.”

“Different how?”

“Do you want me to show you?”

“Yes.”

The doppel’s lips press against yours. Closed at first. Then they divide and your tongue darts between them, granting you your first taste of the invader. Nothing like the dream. No bitterness or metal or sour flavor. No smoke or ash. Just clean, pure, natural.

“Do you understand now?” His gaze traps yours. Human pupils dilating. You know what really lurks beneath. You like both.

“No. Show me again.”

A faint smirk. Then the doppelganger’s mouth captures yours once more.

[dreamwritesimagines]

The Eye of the Hurricane [29] - Enticing

A.N: Thank you so much for your wonderful feedback, you made my day! ❤️I hope you’ll like this chapter as well, and please don’t forget to tell me what you think! ❤️

Summary: It’s important to have a plan in mind before certain meetings.

Word Count: 2200

Pairing: MobBoss!Bucky Barnes x Female!Reader

Warnings: Violence, guns, crime, blood, explicit language, dysfunctional relationship, mentions of sex. This is an AU, friendly reminder that I don’t condone any of the actions depicted on this story and please read with care.

Series Masterlist

Fine, maybe Bucky did have a point.

You were two seconds away from jumping his bones and to annoy you even more, he was so busy with work that you could barely see him.

But thankfully, you had a solution for that.

“Take these home please,” you told your driver as you stepped out of the car, motioning at the multiple bags of lingerie sets on the backseat. “Thank you.”

“Of course ma’am,” he said and you closed the door, then made your way to the building. You took the elevator, then approached Bucky’s office and smiled at his assistant.

“Is he inside?”

“Yes Mrs. Barnes,” she said. “With his father.”

You raised your brows, then heaved a sigh and knocked on the door before opening it. George looked over his shoulder from where he was sitting on the couch and a smile pulled at Bucky’s lips as soon as his gaze fell on you.

“Hey there, am I interrupting anything?”

“Not at all, come in!” Bucky said as he walked to you and pressed a kiss on top of your head, making your heart skip a beat. George smiled at you and stood up as well as you approached him.

“Hi honey.”

“George,” you greeted him back and let him kiss your cheek, then sat down next to him on the couch.

“I was thinking we could have lunch?” you asked and he made a face.

“I gotta meet Nat in half an hour sweetheart. Sorry.”

“About the raid issue?”

George raised his brows, looking between you as if he was surprised that you knew about it, but neither you nor Bucky commented on it.

“Well she also lost half a million,” Bucky said. “Needless to say, she’s furious.”

“Everyone is,” George said. “That cousin of yours is an idiot, Y/N. I mean there’s a difference between being new and being an amateur.”

“Stark called for an emergency meeting,” Bucky said with a smirk. “So did Clint, and I’m guessing so will Nat.”

You tried to keep your expression serene and heaved a sigh. “They will eat him alive.”

“Business talk can wait,” George told you. “How is your day going sweetheart?”

Not retorting to the condescending tone he thought he could hide was rather challenging, but you managed to control yourself. There was a time for everything, and you had to make sure not to look not as interested in just how Ian had screwed up, at least in front of George. You exchanged glances with Bucky who rolled his eyes, then turned to George.

“It’s going good,” you said. “I had coffee with Becca, then went shopping.”

“Oh what did you buy?”

All the lingerie sets you bought flashed in your mind and you bit back a smile as you stole a look at Bucky, then shrugged your shoulders.

“Jewelry,” you said, holding up your wrist to show your bracelet. “And yours, George?”

“Enjoying the retirement,” he said. “Something your father can’t do anytime soon, as it seems.”

You scoffed a small laugh. “He likes the job too much.”

“That’s not the only reason,” he muttered and you shot a look at Bucky who smirked.

“Yeah well, bad choice in heirs.”

“Has he talked to you?” George asked and you pulled your brows together, feigning confusion.

“About?”

“About what he’s going to do now that Ian screwed up in front of people that badly?”

“He doesn’t talk to me about the job,” you said. “But I’d say he made his choice. Now he just needs to train Ian.”

“That training was supposed to have started decades ago.”

You hummed. “And yet here we are.”

“If I remember right, your prenup said your second child would have claim on the territory, no?” George asked with a laugh. “Maybe you two should hurry up, Arthur does desperately need an heir it seems.”

The joke made your jaw clench. Of course he didn’t even consider you just like your father didn’t, but he was more than ready to accept your hypothetical child as the heir.

Anyone but you, apparently.

“Father…” Bucky muttered and George held up his hands.

“Just saying.”

“And that’s my cue,” you said, pushing yourself off the couch and George chuckled.

“Y/N, I was joking.”

“Oh I know, I just think it’s a good idea to see if my dad is alright now that you mentioned him,” you said, shooting him a fake smile before walking to Bucky to peck him on the cheek. “See you at home?”

“Absolutely,” he said and you walked out of the office, anger still poisoning your system.

                                       *

Your father’s assistant told you that he was home today, so you went straight there without dropping by the company. As usual, the foyer and the rest of the house were full of your father’s or Ian’s bodyguards and his assistant was by the study door. You waved at her but before you could approach her, you heard your aunt’s voice echoing in the foyer.

“Y/N, hello!”

You tried not to grimace, then turned to smile at her.

“Auntie.”

She came closer to kiss your cheek. “Arthur is taking a call, let’s catch up in the meantime.”

“I’m actually in a hurry, I just wanted to check whether he’s alright—”

“He is,” your aunt assured you as she gently steered you to the living room. “Albeit a bit tense but you know, it happens.”

“Does it though?” you muttered as you sat down on the couch. She waved a dismissive hand in the air.

“I’m sure you’ve heard about Ian’s tiny little mistake?”

“I haven’t,” you said. “I have heard about the million dollar mistake though.”

She pressed her lips together.

“He is under tremendous amount of pressure,” she told you solemnly. “Running around everywhere.”

You tried not to roll your eyes. “Is that right?”

“And I told your father the same thing, I think he’s being too harsh with him lately.”

“Well, a lot of bosses want his head on a spike,” you pointed out. “I’d say he is being quite nice to him, actually.”

Your aunt shot you a glare but you only smiled, making her heave a sigh and clasp her hands in her lap.

“Arthur says people are pushing for a sit down,” she said. “And that Ian must be there for some reason. I don’t know why he insists on it—”

“Because if he didn’t attend it’d make him look even worse,” you said. “No one would take him seriously after that.”

“He’s not the boss!”

“He’s the heir,” you forced yourself to say. “Bosses can take heirs with them to the meetings. Father has a point, he can’t coddle him especially in a situation like this.”

“Everyone makes mistakes,” she insisted. “I’m sure Bucky has made them too.”

“He hasn’t,” you said, aware of the proud tone in your voice. “He was raised for this shit, so he actually pays attention. Unlike Ian.”

She clicked her tongue.

“Well you must talk to him,” she said and you pulled your brows together.

“To Bucky? Why?”

“Ian needs someone in that room that will have his back.”

You tried to stop the laughter threatening to spill from your lips.

“And you think Bucky will do it?”

“He will if you ask him to.”

“Why on earth would I ask him to?” you asked with a scoff and she threw her hands up.

“Because we’re family!” she said. “Ian would do the same for you.”

“Ian would throw me to the wolves if the roles were reversed,” you pointed out with a chuckle. “You know it as well as I do. They’d eat me alive during that meeting and he wouldn’t lift a finger, he’d encourage it.”

“You’re being very unfair to him, Y/N.”

“Maybe you just forgot what your son’s personality is like because you barely spend any time with him,” you said calmly and she narrowed her eyes.

“Careful.”

You dragged the tip of your tongue and held up your hands, gesturing surrender.

“Bucky wouldn’t help Ian even if I asked him to,” you said. “He doesn’t take him seriously.”

“And why is that?”

You shrugged your shoulders. “I’m gonna go on a limb and assume it’s because Ian makes mistakes that cost my father and the other bosses millions of dollars.”

“What’s a couple of millions in this business?” she asked with a small laugh. “Nothing.”

You heaved a sigh. “It gives a message, auntie.”

She crossed her legs, sticking her nose in the air.

“Either way, talk to Bucky,” she said. “Everyone says he listens to what you say, so it might be a good idea to put in some good word for Ian before that meeting.”

You arched a brow, but before you could comment on it, your father’s assistant entered the room.

“Y/N, he says he can see you now.”

“Oh thank you,” you said and got up from the couch. “Auntie. Always a pleasure.”

She just shot you a smile and you shook your head slightly, then followed your father’s assistant to his study.

                                           *

When you got back home, Bucky still wasn’t back so you had enough time to put your plan into action. The set you had chosen for tonight was black; the lacy corset matching the garter belts holding your stockings. You were just done with fixing your hair when you heard Bucky opening the front door, so you threw yourself on the bed and grabbed the book on your nightstand to open it.

“Charm?”

“Upstairs!” you called out, turning on your stomach and swinging your legs back and forth lazily, trying to bite back your smirk as Bucky walked into the room, reading something on his phone.

“I have so much to tell you about the meeting today,” he said without taking his eyes off of the screen and went to place his gun on the small coffee table and you hummed.

“What?”

“Nat is furious, and she and Clint actually—” he stopped talking as soon as he raised his eyes from the phone and you looked over your shoulder to see him frozen in his spot.

“She and Clint?” you asked him as if there was nothing out of the ordinary and he blinked a couple of times in complete silence, staring at you.

“Bucky?” you said and he swallowed thickly.

“What the fuck—am I dreaming?”

“Why would you be dreaming?” you asked and rolled over to lean back on your palms, crossing your legs. “We should talk by the way.”

“Oh we’re not talking,” he said, pulling you by the ankle to the edge of the bed and you let out a squeal that turned into a giggle before you pushed at him and got up from the bed. He let out a groan.

“Charm…”

“What?”

“Is this a new way for you to torture me?”

“No, I just think we should talk.”

“I can’t contribute anything to the conversation because I don’t have any blood in my brain right now, it’s all rushing south.”

You rolled your eyes at him and leaned on your hip. “Can you focus?”

“No.”

“Bucky!”

“You’re in a corset and garter belts and you want me to focus?” he asked, taking a step towards you but you took a step back, smirking.

“Calm down.”

“Come here.”

“No because we need to talk first.”

“If this is about who breaks first,” he said. “I broke first, you won, now come here.”

“I’m glad you agree but that’s not it,” you said. “About the sit down, is there a date yet?”

“A lot of people would start with dirty talk—”

“Business talk is my dirty talk,” you stated. “So?”

“Next week,” he said, pulling at one of the ribbons on the corset and you swatted his hand away.

“Ian is going to be there so—”

“Take it off.”

“Good lingerie is wasted on men I swear to God…” you muttered, trying to ignore the way your stomach did a happy flip. “So if Ian is there, I need to be there.”

“Done.”

“The only way—” you batted his hand away again. “The only way for me to be there is if others believe I’m your heir in case of an emergency, because—”

“Done.”

You let out a laugh. “That easily?”

“Sweetheart you could ask me for all my possessions including the company right now and the answer would still be yes,” he said, making you let out a laugh as he wrapped his vibrainum arm around you and easily lifted you up. He carried you to the bed to drop you there and got rid of his shirt, letting you see his muscular before he got on top of you, his lips finding yours. Your eyes fluttered close and a happy sigh left your lips when he pulled back to look down at you.

“You’re gorgeous, you know that?”

You could feel the fire warming your cheeks and a giggle escaped from you before you pushed at him slightly so that you could straddle him. He quickly pulled at the ribbons holding the corset together and you tilted your head.

“So I win?” you asked again and he nodded, grinning.

“You win babe.”

You smirked, then let him pull the corset off of you to throw it somewhere in the room and leaned down to kiss him again.

Chapter 30

[drabblesandimagines]

Bedtime Tales

Gale of Waterdeep x reader, established relationship

--

You, rather poorly, attempt to bite down on a yawn, and Gale can’t help but frown as he watches you scoop yet another spoon of coffee into your mug.

“Darling?” He asks, tentatively.

“Mm?” You reply over your shoulder from the counter – waiting for the water to boil.  

“I am aware you prefer your coffee on the strong side, but surely four spoons will suffice.”

“Four?” You look down – the mug is half full of grounds - apparently unaware of what you were doing. “Oh. I must’ve lost count.”

“I noticed.” He gets to his feet then to stand behind you and wraps a gentle arm around your waist, pulling you back against his chest before stooping a little so he can rest his chin upon your shoulder. “What’s going on in that sweet mind of yours, hm?”

“Nothing.” Another poorly concealed yawn.

“Did you not sleep well?”

You hesitate for a moment and consider a lie – it would be harmless, wouldn’t it? – but you lack the energy to put in the effort.

“I don’t think I did at all last night – just tossed and turned until dawn.” You’d felt tired, running errands all around Waterdeep the entire day but your mind hadn’t settled, jumping from thought to thought.

“Oh, love...” Gale presses a long kiss against your temple and relishes the feeling of you finally relaxing into his hold. He wished he could whisk you back off to bed, a day of cuddles, wrapped up in blankets but - as the clock chooses that moment to so cruelly chime - he has a cohort of students awaiting his teachings at Blackstaff Academy.

“You should go.” You turn and press a chaste kiss to his lips. “I love you.”

He takes a moment to brush a stray piece of hair from your face, concealing a frown at the dark rings under your eyes – perhaps this was not the first night of poor sleep you’d suffered – and smiles. “I love you more.”

--

You’d been quiet through dinner, despite Gale’s open-ended questions to try and get conversation flowing. He’d suggested the two of you retire earlier tonight than you usually did and you hadn’t protested. After a teasing kiss goodnight, you’d rolled onto your side, chasing sleep…

It’s the sound of a stifled sob that wakes Gale with a start.

“Darling?”

The sound stops with a hiccup, as you press your face deeper into the pillow, hoping he’ll drift back off to sleep.

No such luck though as Gale only murmurs a cantrip to light the lamps surrounding the bed with a soft glow.

“I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to wake you.” You sniff, rubbing your eyes with the heel of your hand. “I can go sit on the balcony and-“

He grabs your wrist, worried you’ll vanish in front of him. “You will do no such thing – I’d never dream of it. Please, what’s the matter?”

“I don’t know.” You take a deep, exasperated breath. “I’m just… I’m so tired that I’m beyond it. My eyes sting from being open, they sting even when they’re closed, but I just can’t sleep. There’s too many thoughts in my head, it’s worse than the damn tadpole.”

“I could cast sleep-” He reaches for your hand.

“No.” You answer, abruptly, and he’s a little startled by the aggression in your tone. “Sorry. I know you would mean well by it, but from having it cast upon me in the past… it was never a pleasant nor restful experience.”

He frowns, rubbing his thumb across your knuckles. There’s so much he needs to learn about you - still a little guarded about events that transpired before him and the nautiloid.

“My apologies, my love. I did not mean to bring up any bad memories.”

“No, I know.” You squeeze his fingers. “I’ll be all right.”

He mulls for a moment, before an idea comes to mind. “I might have a cure. No magic required either.”

You smile, still tired, but gather enough strength to tease. “But you love magic.”

“Whilst I am rather fond of it, there are proven alternatives to such quandaries as this.” He shrugs. “When I was a young boy, trying to read every book known to man, my head too grew busy with thoughts. Though perhaps I was just too excited to sleep, I think we should still give it a go.”

“What is it?” You roll over onto your side, clutching the pillow to your chest.

“My mother used to read to me and, if you’ll permit me, my darling, I would love to do the same for you.”

You squeeze the pillow, casting your eyes down. “Mm, I’ve never been much of a reader before bed.”

“Ah, I have noticed.” How could he not? There was only one side of the bed that had a stack of tomes piled high besides it. “But being read to is quite different, I assure you. Would you care to try?”

You consider the idea for a moment. “All right. There’s nothing to lose, I suppose.”

“And, hopefully, sleep to gain. Hm, what do I have that would suit…?” Gale turns to the side, scans through the pile, before snatching one from the middle with a deft hand - you’re surprised the whole thing doesn’t topple. “Perfect. One of my childhood favourites, in fact.”

You raise an eyebrow. “And you still read it?”

Gale shrugs a shoulder, half-heartedly. “I like to indulge every now and again.”

“What is it?”

He turns the cover towards you – a fine leather tome, purple, with gold lettering. “The very creatively titled Baldurian Tales of Wonder. It’s a collection of short, whimsical stories – happy endings guaranteed.”

He places the tome between the two of you before turning slightly and fluffing up his pillows. Once seemingly satisfied, he sits up a little more and spreads his legs. “Come, get comfy.”

“You want me to…?”

“Mm-hm. You’ll want to see the pictures, naturally.”

“Naturally,” you repeat. “Not anything to do with you wanting me cuddled against your chest.” Gale does not respond, only raises a knee with a gentle click so you can slide over and nestle down against his bare chest.

He slides his knee back down and picks up the tome, resting it on the blanket covering the two of you, and flipping to the first tale.

“Once upon a time-"

“Are you going to do voices?”

He chuckles – it rumbles comfortingly through your back and you unconsciously relax once more into his embrace. “Would you like me to do voices?”

“Did your mother do voices?”

“She… tried her best.”

“Voices, please.”

He presses a kiss to your temple. “Voices it is.”

He begins to read, slowly and softly, being sure not to get too carried away with the characterization of certain characters. His voice is comforting, reassuring, and though your eyes still sting, you try your best to focus on the words and pictures in front of you, your mind finally becoming quiet, your eyes beginning to close…

Gale does not even make it to the end of the first story when he hears your breathing change, though he continues to read it aloud.

Just to be sure you’re truly asleep, that is, not because he wishes to finish the tale.

---

I had a bad day and I wanted some cuddly fluff x

[innominaterifter]

Alec/Regent cosplay from "Worm"

This idea started with a song. It grabbed my temporal lobes with the first notes, flashed with the thought “Damn, I must have to film Regent to this music!”, and didn’t let go until I made this video.

Overall, I'm happy (at least I can think about something else, not walk around with my hyperfixation itching brain, and don't listen to this song on repeat hundreds of times, haha).

The shoot was dangerous, infuriating, and fun all at the same time. Well, like Alec himself, in fact.

Dangerous: location. Abandoned, half-burnt building, littered with charred boards with protruding nails and threateningly swaying half-burnt roof parts that were ready to fall on us from above at any moment.

Infuriating: children, teenagers, young people exploring this building - there were surprisingly many of them, every half hour someone came.

Fun: Well, cosplay is fun in itself. The dumbfounded faces of random observers. And a funny story that happened at the end.

All in all, I had a great time!

What I failed:

1. The color of the wig in the sun turned out to be too brownish-red, and Alec has dark hair. I'll try dyeing the wig and see what happens.

2. The scepter was made in a hurry, not functional, I will make another one.

3. The crown does not fit well on the head; it needs to be secured with something, but so that it is not noticeable.

4. I have not yet been able to fully convey Regent's motor patterns. He should move differently than I can now. I like some of the moves that I came up with, but many others are definitely not what I need. I will deal with Alec's movements, it turned out to be more difficult than I thought.

I wanted to convey the laxity, sloppy movements, and, at the same time, grace without going into femininity. But so far, I have not managed to do this mix as I intended. Some of the movements are too stiff. Part of the problem was the need to balance in a mask with limited visibility on a burnt fallen beam with protruding nails, with the possibility of falling on the same ones lying nearby. But is this an excuse? I need to practice more.

But overall, I'm very pleased with what I've achieved so far.

A funny story as a bonus. At the end of the shoot, I accidentally scared off a couple who decided to retire to an abandoned deserted (as they assumed) building.

Judging by their faces, they definitely did not expect the appearance of a human in a mask, unusual clothes, and twirling a scepter in their fingers.

For my part, I didn’t expect to see them either. Normally, I would be extremely embarrassed to catch someone in such an intimate moment.

But this time, I was overcome by a wave of unexpected mischief. I giggled, pirouetted to go out and chirped to them over my shoulder: “Oh, don’t pay attention, I’m just a tooth fairy flying about its business, consider that I’m no longer here!”.

I hope I haven't completely ruined their mood.

P.S. And, yes, the video is a little about me too: I’m usually a reserved person, but sometimes... drama happens.

[jeannineee]

Closure (Ⅲ)

Azriel x Reader

a/n: part three!! Comment if you’d like to be added to part four :) quickly proofread, sorry for any errors

Requests are open for headcanons/short blurbs

ALSO IM A BIT NERVOUS ABOUT WHETHER OR NOT THIS PART IS GOOD SO YALL LMK PLS

Part 1

Part 2

PART FOUR

warnings: angst, allusions to sex (18+ please)

“What are you and Azriel doing?”

Mor’s question drew your attention from the book in your hands. You sat up on the couch, hugging your knees to your chest.

“I don’t know.”

That was the truth. You had no idea. It had been a few days since that evening with Azriel in the Hewn City. Unsurprisingly, he hadn’t spoken to you since.

Mor sighed, taking a seat on the couch beside you. “I thought you said you ended things with him.”

“I—I did. But…” you trailed off, fidgeting with the spine of your book. “…I can’t stay away from him.”

“Because he’s your mate.” Mor said. A statement, not a question.

Shock was written all over your face. “How did you know that?”

“Anyone with a brain can see it. Except for Azriel, apparently.”

You looked away, finding sudden interest in Feyre’s family painting on the wall. “It doesn’t matter.”

“Why?” Mor’s voice was soft, understanding.

“Because he is only interested in Elain.”

Mor went silent for several moments. “I think Azriel feels he isn’t worthy of you.”

“That’s nonsense.”

Mor snorted, twirling her golden hair around her forefinger. “Trust me, I know. But as long as I’ve known him, Azriel has always thought himself to be a bastard-born nobody, undeserving of anything good.”

Something in your soul ached at that. You knew Azriel had issues with his self-esteem, but you didn’t realize just how much it affected him.

At your silence, Mor continued, “Despite his inferiority complex, his behavior is uncalled for. He shouldn’t be stringing you along while entertaining Elain.”

“I know.”

“And you need to grow a backbone.”

You glared. “I have a backbone.”

“Not with Azriel, you don’t.”

You couldn’t argue with that, as much as you hated to admit it. Perhaps it was the bond, that made you so weak to his advances. Perhaps it was your own naïveté.

“Do you…” You swallowed thickly, the question catching in your throat. “Do you think he knows about the bond?”

“I’m not sure.”

~~~~~~~~

Later in the day, you retired to your bedroom, after spending a few hours training with Nesta and Cassian. You loosed a sigh of relief and contentment as you settled into a warm bath, the scent of lavender and eucalyptus wafting through the air.

Normally, a bath would be enough to relax you, and calm your thoughts. But Azriel weighed heavily on your mind. As did your conversation with Mor.

Half an hour passed by, filled with overthinking. Scowling, you rose from the bathtub, wrapping a towel around your form, and headed into your bedroom.

Before you could enter your closet, a knock sounded on your door. You didn’t need to hear his voice to know who it was.

“Y/n.” Azriel called from the hall. “Can I come in?”

You replaced the towel with a silk robe, and sat on the edge of your bed. “Come in.”

Azriel silently entered your room, his shadows much more active than normal. The shadows only behaved that way when he spent time with Elain—they disappeared in her presence.

Yet the shadows reveled in yours.

If the shadows weren’t hint enough as to where Azriel had been earlier in the day, Elain’s flowery scent ensnared your senses. You swallowed down bile.

The Shadowsinger cleared his throat, leaning back against the dresser that stood against the wall, a few feet away from you.

“Did you need something?” You asked him.

Azriel chuckled. “Do I need an excuse to see you?”

You fidgeted with your hands. “I have things to do, so…”

“It doesn’t seem like it,” Azriel replied, taking a step forward. His shirt was unbuttoned just enough to reveal the tanned, muscular chest beneath, and the black, swirling tattoos that marked his skin. “I just wanted to check on you.”

“How kind.” You didn’t bother hiding the annoyance you felt.

“Did I do something wrong?”

You snorted. “Why are you so hot and cold with me? One moment, you’re trying to get me into your bed, and the next, you’re ignoring me for weeks at a time. Why?”

“I have other responsibilities to attend to outside of our friendship.”

You knew those ‘responsibilities’ likely included time spent with Elain. But you didn’t voice that.

Azriel continued, “You know, you can come to me, too. It doesn’t always have to be me who initiates conversation.”

“You’re never around. You don’t tell me where you are, what you’re doing.”

“As I said, I have responsibilities,” Azriel said, before sitting on the bed beside you.

“That’s a piss-poor excuse,” you muttered, not daring to look him in the eye, despite the bond urging you to do so.

Azriel scoffed. “I don’t know what you want from me.”

At that, you whipped your head towards him. “I want my friend back. I want…” You stopped yourself before the next words could leave you.

You wanted him. Wanted—needed more than friendship. You needed your mate. But instead, you repeated, “I want my friend back.”

“You have me,” Azriel said, reaching a hand to cup your face.

Your eyes fluttered shut as he swiped his thumb over your cheekbone. Damn him.

Part of you wanted to protest—to push him away. But each time he touched you, it felt as though every broken piece of you was being put back into place.

“You have me,” Azriel murmured again, brushing his lips against your forehead. He placed a soft kiss to each of your cheeks before his lips melded to your own.

Elain’s flowery scent filled your nose once again, yanking you back into reality. You abruptly broke away from the kiss, rising to your feet.

“Y-You should leave,” you sputtered out, furiously readjusting your hair, your robe.

“Do you not want to…?” Azriel let the question hang as he too, stood from your bed.

“Are you serious?” You spat the question. The casualness in his words, his actions sent you into a white-hot, blind rage. “Not when I can smell Elain all over you.”

Azriel stiffened, but didn’t respond.

You laughed, but the sound was devoid of any humor. “I don’t know what I was even thinking.”

The bond. It had to be the bond, making you forget yourself with him. He still smelled like Elain, for fuck’s sake. For that alone, you would’ve sent lesser males running.

“It always comes back to Elain,” Azriel said, shaking his head in disbelief.

“Shouldn’t it? How can you—do you even understand what you’re doing to me?”

Azriel looked taken aback. He opened and closed his mouth, coming short of a reply.

You debated simply kicking Azriel out of your room, and leaving it at that. But all the emotions of the last several weeks came bubbling to the surface, threatening to spill over. So you let the words fly out, consequences he damned.

“You are hurting me, Azriel. You—each time you come to me, only to turn around and go to Elain? That fucking hurts. It’s confusing, and I don’t deserve it.”

You loosed a breath, continuing, “I don’t know what you do with her. I don’t know what you feel for her. I don’t care anymore. Just leave me out of it, because it’s hurting me.”

You braced yourself. Braced yourself for a screaming match; an argument. Part of you thought that maybe he’d even laugh at you.

Instead, Azriel merely walked out of your room in silence.

That was far worse.

~~~~~~~~

“What’s got Azriel so pissed off?” Cassian asked you from where he stood on the balcony, nursing a mug of coffee.

“Y/n put him in his place last night,” Nesta interjected, her voice lined with amusement. “Poor Illyrian baby couldn’t take it.”

Cassian grinned. “Rhysie will have a field day when he hears about this.”

You rolled your eyes, staring down at the glass of water in your hands. “Yes, laugh at my turmoil,” you muttered sarcastically.

Nesta and Cassian shared a laugh at that, before the former patted your back comfortingly. “Don’t worry. We’ll go to Rita’s tonight and make you forget all about it.”

~~~~~~~~

Unfortunately, Nesta’s idea of “making you forget all about it” included her running off with Cassian into the bathroom after an entire thirty minutes at Rita’s, leaving you alone at your booth, stone-cold sober and mildly annoyed.

After another ten minutes of sitting alone like an outcast, you were prepared to call it quits.

That was, until Eris Vanserra slid into the seat across from you, two mixed drinks in hand.

“Y/n,” he greeted with a smirk, sliding you one of the drinks. “It’s been a while.”

“Not long enough,” you muttered as you took a large swig from your glass.

Eris chuckled, amusement lining his expression. “Always the charmer. How’ve you been?”

“I’m fine. What are you doing in Velaris?”

“Tsk. Not even going to ask how I’m doing?”

You stared.

Eris sighed dramatically, though you noticed his lips twitching up in a smile. “Alright. I’m here for a few days. Just visiting.”

“I highly doubt you’re ‘just visiting.’”

“Believe what you want.” Eris mused, leaning forward, resting his chin on his hands. He studied you for a moment, before adding, “You seemed a bit lonely. No males around to warm your bed?”

You took another gulp of your drink. “My bed is of no concern to you.”

Eris grinned, undeterred by your disinterest. “Come on. Loosen up. Play with me.”

Perhaps it was the alcohol kicking in a bit sooner than normal. Or perhaps it was your determination to get Azriel off of your mind. You didn’t particularly care to find out as you replied, “What do I get if I do?”

Eris’s grin became feline. “Whatever you want.”

~~~~~~~~

The first thing that greeted you when you awoke the next morning was a pounding headache. You were never drinking again.

Your grogginess quickly eddied into panic as you realized Eris was sleeping beside you. If you pulled away the blanket that covered the lower half of his form, you were almost certain he’d be—

“It’s not polite to stare,” Eris murmured tiredly, his abs rippling as he sat up in bed, the blanket that previously covered his form sliding away.

You quickly averted your gaze, and rose from the bed, throwing on the nearest piece of clothing.

“My shirt looks lovely on you,” Eris mused, still lounging on your bed as though he owned it.

Your cheeks flushed. You cleared you throat, attempting to find any amount of dignity within yourself as you said, “You should probably leave.”

Eris chuckled. “Don’t worry, I won’t overstay my welcome.” He stood from the bed, and dressed himself. You prepared to return his shirt, but he halted you. “It looks better on you. Keep it.”

You cursed yourself as your cheeks flushed an even deeper color.

“I have to return home this afternoon,” Eris explained as he tucked a strand of hair behind your ear. “But if you ever want a repeat of last night…”

You gave him a pointed look. “Eris, as much as I enjoyed—“

“Oh, I know you enjoyed it. Multiple times. You were quite vocal in showing it.”

“As much as I enjoyed it,” you began again with slight annoyance, “I think it best that we don’t do this again.”

Eris shrugged, unfazed. “That’s fine. You were a lot of fun,” he replied as he prepared to leave your room. “For what it’s worth, though, you are…nice to be around.”

You supposed that was the closest you were getting to a compliment from him.

You opened your mouth to respond, but Eris left before you could.

~~~~~~~~

The coffee you drank was a welcome remedy for your headache. Tiredness still gnawed at you from where you sat at the dining table, allowing your thoughts to wander.

You didn’t particularly regret last night. Eris was…fun. A distraction, even. Perhaps you’d take him up on his offer, in the future.

“Next time you bring a male over, at least have the decency to sneak him out,” Azriel said from behind you, his face frozen with rage.

You laughed. Laughed, to your own surprise. “I dealt with centuries of you, Mor, and Cassian bringing people home. Cope.”

The finality in your tone seemed to piss Azriel off even more. “You even smell like him, for Cauldron’s sake.”

It was then that you realized you still wore Eris’s shirt. Again, you didn’t particularly care. “Good,” you spat out as you stood from your chair. “Maybe now you’ll know how I feel when you smell like Elain.”

“Did you fuck him?”

You weren’t sure why he asked. He already knew the answer.

“What does it matter?”

“Did you?”

“Did you fuck Elain?”

Azriel went silent.

“Allow me to make one thing clear, Azriel,” you started, taking a step closer to him. “I am not yours. You are not mine. What I do, with anyone, is none of your business. Just as what you do, is no concern of mine.”

You ignored the way the bond hammered against your chest in protest. The way you could feel his hurt surging through you like a tidal wave. Good. Let him feel what you’ve felt for months, now.

Azriel didn’t respond. Typical.

You started to leave, but Azriel’s next words had your breath catching short in your lungs.

“I know about the bond.”

You weren’t breathing. It felt as though the floor had been swept out from under you.

You turned back around, facing him. “What?”

“I’ve known for almost a year.”

A year. He’s known longer than you have.

You couldn’t bring yourself to form a proper response—you could hardly think over the roaring in your head.“Then why would you—Elain—what?”

Azriel took a step forward, to which you immediately stepped back.

Azriel began, “There is no excuse—“

“You’re right,” you sneered, “there is no excuse.”

“I’m sorry—“

“Save it.”

Azriel’s throat bobbed. He reached out a hand, as if to caress your face. “Y/n—“

“Do not presume to touch me. Ever again.”

You hurried out of the dining room before you could further register the anguish on Azriel’s face.

The bond made you feel it all, anyway.

~~~~~~~~

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[weird-addiction]

“You’re all Demons. I rule you all.”

Summary: The Archons are not the most powerful, nor is Celestia.

Pairing: Genshin Archons x Male!Reader

Warnings: Slight SAGAU creator themes, manipulative reader, unhealthy power dynamics, controlling reader, Furnia slander

The creator is not one to be looked down upon. Yet, over the thousands of years, everyone and even the archons have forgotten them. No shrines, offerings or worshippers have been founded.

Well, they should know that the creator does not take lightly to what they have done. They have eyes everywhere, and knows everything that is going on.

“Pathetic pathetic pathetic! Such a bore!”, they said. His voice ran through the ears of the archons and the heavens themselves. “I give them stories, backgrounds, and such titles to use for a better Teyvat. And yet, they are so boring to not even use them! Ugh! Execution would have been better!”

His insults came one after the other, and the gods heard them all. “This throne is not for them. It is mine and mine alone.” Every word was heard the archons, well, almost every word. The creator chose what they can and can’t hear.

“Perhaps I should pay them a visit.”

And that is how they came to Mondstadt. Home of freedom and wine, ‘ruled’ by the Barbatos. But when he stepped into the city, he could tell the god has been slacking off. No rules, no disciplines, and no official government. Just a military force that can be called a military force.

He went to the acting Grandmaster Jean, who was stunned to see such a being. “Tell me, where is Barbatos. I wish to speak with him.”

“Y-you mean Venti? He’s probably at the Angel’s Share.”

To the tavern he went and indeed the bard sat, almost drunk out of his mind as he round after round.

“Venti is it?” The stern voice came. The bard was quickly shocked to his core to the same voice. “Mind if we have a word?”

Outside behind the tavern, Venti was on his knees. Practically begging for forgiveness. “Please! I’m sorry! I promise to-”

“To what? I barely see any shrines of me. Why should they worship you when you have abandoned your responsibilities? Should I send you back to the hells with you?” His voice stood with no room for negotiations or retaliations.

“No! Please! I’ll do better!” The bard begged. Tears were threatening to spill.

“Don’t forget from where you came from. You can change forms, you can’t change your eyes.” With a snap of his fingers, Venti’s eyes begin to burn. Black surrounded his pupils as he shut them in agony.

“That’s better. Your true colors are better.”

Venti bowed his head as he could do nothing but except the truths. The truth of his own freedom has been revealed for all to see.

“I have others to see to. Perhaps I should take a round trip to see all of them. See you my dear Zephyr.”

His next stop was Liyue, what a great city built on the coast. He had heard that their god was dead.

“What a load of bullshit. Trying to escape responsibilities to? Too fucking bad.”

Up on a mountain is where he found the retired geo archon. Or rather, Morax.

“Nice view no? Now I know why you liked building mountains so much.” Zhongli turned around to see the unfamiliar, his face said it all.

“Who are you? How do you know my identity?”

“Aw. Little pup. Looks like your leash needs a tightening.” He made a gesture which was pulling an invisible chain, which made Zhongli fall towards him.

“You…it’s you. Why are you here?” The archon’s eyes widen to the realization.

“I’m disappointed in you. No shrines, no worship, nothing in my name. Do I need to send you back to the hells? I would be glad to do so. The others are always asking ‘Where’s Morax?’ ‘Oh I wish I can play with Morax again. Where is he?’ Do you remember?”

A wide smile took his face as he saw the other’s face drop. He did indeed remember.

Zhongli fell to his knees remembering the years of torment. In his youth, he didn’t listen. “Please. Don’t. I beg of you.”

He tched. “Oh Morax. Don’t beg. It’s not a good look on you. I suppose you are retired after all, but you do have quite the influence no? Why not put that to use? Remember the contract you signed with me?”

Of course he remembers. It was the first contract he ever made. But he was one who signed it. To this day, the contract was kept under lock and key. “Yes…” Was all he said.

“Good. You can hide your identity, but you can’t hide your chains.” A snap of his fingers, shackles appeared on the archon’s wrists and ankles. Heavy like lead they were. Binding him down to earth, to his contract.

“Reminds me of old days! What joy! Say hi to the adepti for me! I’m sure they missed me oh so much!”

He then disappeared and left Zhongli there with chains for all to see. Bound to unspoken of words.

Inazuma was a nation he kept hearing bad things about. What had the archon done to be hated so much? At least the borders were open now, seems that forever can’t be forever.

“Oh Ei. The eternity you wanted was the gluttony of control you wished you had right?”

Locked away in her palace, in the heart of the city, Ei sat with her eyes closed.

“Beezlebub. How nice it is to see you again? Did you miss me?”

Ei was startled and her hand went to her polearm, ready to attack where the voice came from. “How did you come in here? Who let you in?”

“After all these years, you are still the same. Eternity truly doesn’t change you does it? Your gluttony will never be satisfied will it? What would your sister say?” The words came flowing out one after the other, he did not even have to think as he spoke. He knew exactly what to say.

“You-!” Ei pounced forward, the tip of her weapon stopping at his throat. One wrong move and he would be harmed, but he knew she wouldn’t, her arm was shaking after all.

“You close your borders, take the people’s visions. Were you so afraid of change that you wanted an illusion control that you never had. Pathetic.” Ei begin to tremble as she heard such words, but there was nothing she can do. He was her superior after all, this would be a death sentence if she tried to fight him.

“No worshippers of me, no shrines, not even a fucking thank you to me for giving you these islands.” A laugh left his lips as he thought of it.

“You can hide away in your plain, but you can’t hide from the true reality outside your door.” A snap of his fingers, Makoto’s body dropped in front of her. Her eternity in the open for all to see.

A smirk overtook his features. “Remember, she’s in my hands. You are more than welcome to join her, but…I don’t think I will. Your eternity will be spent in the same gluttony of control, until you are swallowed whole.”

The archon fell to her knees, just like all the others. “Please. Wait..I’m sorry..”

“Aw. Don’t beg. You all look so pathetic while doing it. I made you all better than this. But here you all are, no backbone to be seen. Which, I can see why.” Makoto’s body disappeared as Ei was starting to shed tears.

Moving to crouch down to her level, his lips next to her ear. “Once you die, you will be in the same eternity you wanted. You will know what it is like to be forever unchanging.”

Getting back to the mainland across an entire ocean was not fun. Even when he was stepping through the air, it still took a long time. Next nation was Sumeru. Nahida was the one archon he liked, she always knew what was going on.

Not to mention, she was a victim herself. But the real reason was that she had kept the shrines the former archon had built in his name, and the people still worshipped him to this day.

“I have expected you.” Came the small voice, her back was turned as she showed no hostility or fear to the one that walked towards her.

“Buer.” However, his respect her Nahida only went so far. Her chains were just a bit less…drastic.

“Seems like your people have finally changed their minds. Still chained to the evermore knowledge I see.” He stated, a laugh was held back.

"It is something I have much time for. I do not mind if the chains are the ones that I like." Nahida responsed.

"Then I wish you good luck. You are only 500 years old after all, you have all the time in Teyvat for this." Waving over his shoulder as he left the sanctum which the younger archon stayed in.

The next nation is one he has known to hate, or rather, hate the heavenly principles for. For as long as he had seen, the dragons and vishaps were the natives that they had decided to usurp for power. And Fountaine was one of these, 500 years of a fake god and authority taking the throne. While the true ruler was cast aside.

He sat one foot into the Nation and he already hears the annoying voice of the 'archon', really wish she could really shut up already. "Oh! So you are here after all! Welcome! I, welcome you to my beautiful nation!"

He did not say anything, but rather he stared up at her and gave her a glare; even from that distance she could see it and knew he was not here for a friendly visit. "I will see you in your office Furina."

When he got there, he was greeted with someone else. The Hydro Dragon, the rightful ruler of these lands. "Neuvillette."

"Your Grace." He bowed, still addressing him the same way just all the those years ago. And most likely, the only one left that still does so. Furina then came into the office, a look of fear in her eyes.

"Furina, how...unpleasant to see you." Hearing the words, she looked more dejected than she already did.

"Please. If you're going to say it then just say it."

"Fine." He sat down on one of the fancy armchairs that sat around the room.

"Just because you are forced to play a role for 500 years does not mean you get sympathy from me, should have thought of that before your archon usurped him." Making a hand gesture towards Neuvillette.

"You're sad that you had to play a role you did not want against your will? You know what we call that? The real world. Wake the fuck up if you think the world owes you anything just because of that. Have you even taken a look around you at the people for this many years? Their lives are filled with doing things they don't want, and it's a different thing every time. You do one same thing and you think can get sympathy? Maybe from Neuvillette sure, but not me. And when you finally die and fade out from this world and nobody remembers you, you will appear in my halls begging for my attention. I will not spare a single thing for you." A stone cold expression sat on his features.

The room was tense, Furina was on the verge of tears. Neuvillette held a worried face as he wanted to comfort her, but from one hand gesture from his creator, he stayed his feet and did not move.

"An arch duke of hell? Please. You can barely get out of heaven. You want to fall into infernal blaze so bad that you need to fool a crime to get casted out? Pathetic." He spat.

He stood up and walked out the door, Neuvillette followed after him.

"What is it?" His tone was eager as he had somewhere else to be.

"Your Grace, please rethink of it. Lady Furina is in pain, after 500 years, she is bound to have some sort problems with it all." He pleaded.

"Aw~, bound to the chains of justice like she is. I did not create you this way."

"..." Neuvillette was at a lost for words.

"Fine. She can keep her role and not appear in my halls after her timely death, that's for her immortal side of things. But once she is one more mortal, she will still die, and I will know to give her a quick death." A smile took over, like he was saying this was the better action.

"W-what? How is that-"

"Unless you want her to die right now? I can make that happen."

"No, Your Grace."

"Good. She would make such a pretty corpse."

Silence took the space between the two of them, a sea of mist and fog was slowly putting distance between them.

"Everyone on this side of the world are demons. I rule you all."

[hedgehogsaretheultimatelifeform]

Even more thinking about getting assimilated into the retired 141 polycule.

[part one]

[part two]

Part three (the good NSFW stuff) below the cut

‘Earn it?’ You spit back at Simon, sitting up as the incredulity of his request hits you.

‘Earn it.’ He repeats, staring you down with a grin as he waits for you to give in.

You really don’t want to give him that satisfaction. You could do it, too. Outlast him.

Sit back on the sofa, comfortable into the coverage provided by Gaz and Soap’s clothes, not giving Simon anything until he changes his attitude. Until he comes to you on his knees, begging for the privilege of your time, so he can show you how he fucks Soap.

You could. But, it would take all day. And, take so, so much effort. You’d have to spend all that time waiting, resisting the urge to give in yourself, to satisfy the curiosity of what Simon had going on under that tight shirt. Now, when it was just the two of you, that wasn’t so hard, but if the others took it upon themselves to get involved, to intercede on Simon’s behalf, leaning down to whisper in your ear that you can have your way next time, just let Simon have this one, please… He’ll fuck Soap so good if you do… and, you know, earning it will be a hell of a lot of fun, too…

Ghost grind victoriously when you start to strip, struggling as you move too quickly and catch your arm in the sleeve of Kyle’s shirt. You pull on it harder, hearing some of the stitches tear before you can pull it over your head and toss it aside, hurrying to stand up as you kick Soap’s boxers down your legs, leaving them hanging from one ankle as you walk towards Simon.

He reaches for you, allowing you to use his hands to steady yourself as you climb into his lap, settling on his slowly tenting jeans. Simon spreads his legs wide underneath you, the denim rubbing against your thighs as they’re pulled wide in turn. You hiss at the feeling and Simon catches it, cupping your back as you wordlessly shift against each other until you’re comfortable.

Simon doesn’t complain when your hands land heavily on his chest, grabbing the material of his shirt and feeling the fatty muscle hiding underneath, as he slides his hands down your back to cup your ass instead.

‘Go on, now,’ He murmurs. ‘Not going to make me do all the work, are you?’

‘You haven’t done any work yet,’ you reply, but start grinding on his lap, rubbing yourself up against his jeans, feeling his dick get even harder against you.

Simon gasps softly when you press down on him, gently tilting you back as he looks down to see where your body is pressed against his.

You hold yourself there, reaching up to the collar of his shirt with the intent of pulling it off, only for him to start tapping his fingers on your ass.

‘Don’t stop now that we’ve got an audience.’ He nods over your shoulder.

‘Don’t mind us, just watching.’ Kyle says, from behind you.

‘Why just watch?’ You reply, not glancing back at him as you start moving again, sitting up in Simon’s lap, pressing your hands against his abs as you push your hips up.

‘They’ve got a point.’ Ghost leans back on the cushions, squeezing your ass tight.

‘Okay, fine, you’ve got me.’ Kyle sighs dramatically, but slips up behind you, running his hands down to your hips, guiding you into a faster rhythm. ‘I’ll do my bit.’

‘Course you will.’ You hear Price grumble, as he appears from behind you too. He pecks Kyle on the cheek, then moves around behind the sofa, tilting Simon’s face back to kiss him.

The sight makes you and Kyle gasp in unison, pressing into each other as Simon twitches underneath you.

‘Ask John to choke him.’ Kyle murmurs in your ear.

‘What?’

‘Ask him.’ He insists, trailing kisses down your shoulder, in some kind of silent plea.

‘John?’ You call, feeling your voice crack halfway through his name.

‘Yes, love? Nervous about something?’ John looks up, still holding Simon’s head as a blissful expression spreads on Simon’s face.

‘Will you choke him for us?’

John chuckles at your question. ‘Gaz putting ideas in your head, is he?’

‘No.’ Kyle mumbles, his head dipping behind your shoulder, like he was trying to hide under the pretence of kissing you all over your skin.

‘Sure, sure.’ John says, but looks down at Simon. ‘Hey. You want to be choked down there?’

‘A little early, isn’t it?’ Simon tries to focus his eyes, glancing in the direction of the broken clock.

‘Maybe. But, they asked.’

‘Really?’ Simon tilts his head up. ‘You want to see me get choked?’

You nod. ‘Yes, please. Please, I want to see you get choked.’

‘Good to see someone knows how to ask for what they want.’ Price comments, and Kyle mutters something behind you, but you’re too busy watching as Price and Simon make eye contact. Simon nods, and John slips his hand around his neck.

You swallow, seeing how Simon’s skin disappears under John’s hand, covered in nicks and scars, gently rubbing at Simon’s equally marked skin, before the fingers tighten, and Simon’s hips buck up violently as he chokes.

You gasp, suddenly sent jostling upwards, leaning back into Kyle as he catches you, moaning into your ear at the sight in front of you. Price holds it for a second, gently stroking Simon’s hair back from his face as he watches him, before relaxing his fingers. Simon inhales again, and lowers back to the sofa, Kyle guiding you with him, setting you back in Simon’s lap.

‘What the fuck are you doing?’ Soap’s accusatory tone cuts the moment short. You look back over your shoulder, seeing him standing there, cup and tea towel in hand, having obviously been dispatched to keep him occupied while you had fun with Simon.

Simon sits up, gently pushing you off his lap, instead tucking you into his side as he stands. ‘Calm down, Johnny. Just getting me ready to fuck you.’

‘Well, why didn’t you say so?’ Soap sets the cup aside, hurrying to Simon’s side, wrapping his arms around both him and you. ‘Been waiting for you to show off.’

‘Just for you, Johnny.’ Ghost cups soap’s head, rubbing his thumb behind his ear. ‘We’re sorry for leaving you out.’

‘Are you?’ Soap, Johnny, challenges, looking around. Kyle and John nod, mumbling something that passes for an apology, before Johnny looks back at you.

You cup the other side of his face, lean in to him and kiss his cheek. ‘We’re sorry, Johnny.’

‘Fuck me,’ he murmurs in your ear. ‘Don’t have to apologise if you say my name like that.’

‘Getting eager, aren’t you?’ Simon mumbles as you lean back, and can see Johnny pressing a half hard erection against Ghost’s thigh.

‘Sure, he is.’ John approaches you from behind, draping a hoodie over your shoulders. ‘Can’t have you getting cold while we wait, can we, love?’

Ghost half snorts a laugh, looking keenly at John. ‘Don’t pass off territory marking as kindness.’

‘Don’t act like you don’t want to see them in one of your masks.’ Kyle responds at your other shoulder, helping you pull the hoodie on, but leaving it hanging open, unzipped in the front.

‘Masks?’ You ask, glancing at Kyle, who kisses your shoulder before covering it with soft cotton, his breath fanning over your neck as he turned his kisses to the skin there.

‘Simon has a taste in balaclavas. Skulls, specifically. Has a big collection,’ Soap starts narrating, before Simon presses his hand over his mouth, silencing him.

‘It’s why we call him Ghost. And, he likes to see us in them.’ John finishes, tucking you close to his side, as the three of you watch Simon struggling to keep Johnny close to his side, as Soap tries to squirm out from under his hand and keep spilling Ghost’s secrets.

‘I’m down. Maybe not now, but… sometime.’ You meet Simon’s gaze as he looks at you, and groans softly.

‘Oi, don’t cum before you’ve fucked me.’ Johnny pokes Simon’s face, drawing his attention back to him.

‘Like I would.’ Simon glances at John. ‘Your room or mine?’

‘Let’s go for mine. The sofa’s comfier.’

‘Go get settled, then.’ Simon turns his entire focus on Johnny, leaving the three of you to trail out of the room.

John leads the way, setting a quick pace as you hurry after him. Kyle whines behind you, trying to grab hood of you and missing, only coming up with a handful of hoodie, pulling it half off as he trails after you.

The door John opens leads into a much larger bedroom than the one you’d you’d shared with Kyle and Johnny last night.

‘Is that a king?’ You stare at the massive bed against the back wall. It stretches almost wall to wall, leaving only a narrow pass to get in and out of it without crawling in from the bottom.

‘Nah. Bigger, something, some state king.’ John mumbles, going to straighten the covers as Kyle leads you to the sofa.

‘What?’

‘S called an Alaskan king, right?’ Kyle glances over at John as he pulls the hoodie back around your shoulders.

‘Yeah. Something like that. We needed something that would fit all of us.’

‘Does it?’

‘Yeah. It’ll do five too.’ Kyle pulls you down onto the sofa (comfy, as advertised), settling you between his legs as he grabs hold of your thighs. ‘If we all cuddle up.’

‘I think I can manage that.’

‘Knew you would.’ John joins you, gently pulling you free from Kyle to sit between them, one hand on each thigh, as John presses a kiss to your temple. ‘You’re good like that.’

‘Course they are.’ Simon announces his and Johnny’s entrance to the room, Johnny waving as Simon leads him over to his he bed. ‘Did a number on Soap, though.’

‘Oh yeah, they did.’ Kyle chuckles. ‘I forgot that.’

‘Do tell.’ John sounds amused, glancing at you as you frown, confused, searching through your memories. You remember sitting in Johnny’s lap, clutching at his neck, kissing every inch of his skin…

Ghost pulls Soap’s shirt off over his head, revealing bruises scattering down his chest from his collarbone.

You remember kissing skin, licking skin, Kyle’s voice in your ear, telling you how to suck, gently bite, mark him up, declare your territory, all over his skin.

‘I taught them how to do that.’ He’s smirking, squeezing your thigh, trying to take credit for your work.

‘I know how to give hickies.’ You grumble, tossing his hand away, and move yourself into John’s lap.

‘Course you do.’ John mumbles, gently soothing you by rubbing a hand down your back. ‘Don’t let him get to you. Just keeping watching Johnny over there.’

You sigh, leaning back on him as you turn back to Simon and Johnny.

Johnny’s naked now, helping Simon strip to reveal his equally hard dick. The pair of them seem to be entirely absorbed in each other, moving like the rest of you aren’t there.

So it seems, until they’re both naked, pressing against each other as Johnny holds Simon’s dick in his hands, asking him, begging him, to suck his dick, just for a little bit, get Johnny good and brainless, ready to be fucked like he likes, and Simon considers his head as he considers it.

He holds Johnny up like that for half a minute, maybe more, before he pushes him down onto the bed, pulling him to be in the right position, completely mucking up the work John had done making the bed, as Johnny moved to hang his head over the edge of the bed. Simon reached down to hold it steady , cupping his hand over the back of Soap’s head, before finally glancing over at you as he takes hold of his dick.

Gaz groans to your right, pulling his joggers down to let his dick out. John shifts you closer, nodding to Simon.

Simon looks back at Johnny, leaning over to brush his dick against Johnny’s lips as he opens his mouth eagerly, huffing out air before Simon pushes his dick into him.

Soap groans as his mouth is filled, his eyes sliding closed as his throat bulges. Ghost runs a finger down it, groaning as he cants his hips forward.

‘Fuck…’ John groans underneath you, shifting as you feel his dick harden. You slide off his lap, back to between him and Gaz. The hoodie slips from your shoulders in the process, as you get a front row seat to Gaz slowly stroking his dick at the same pace Simon is fucking Johnny’s throat.

‘Fuck, that’s hot.’ You murmur aloud, without thinking.

‘You want him to do that for you?’ Price tilts his head close to your shoulder.

‘Which one?’ Your eyes flick between them.

‘I mean, both, for sure.’ Gaz groans at John’s words, muttering something about not putting images in his head, as John continues, ‘but I think I meant Soap.’

‘He’d do this for me?’ You look at Soap more closely: spaced out, sucking dick, clutching at the sheets for stability as he hangs off the bed, tilted at an angle for the three of you to enough watching him, rather than his own comfort.

‘This, or something like it. He likes having his mouth full.’ Price’s words make you bite back a moan, as you imagine having Soap’s mouth moving down your body, desperately taking in whatever you had to offer, to make him feel full.

Price chuckles as you lean his head back on his shoulder. You feel his arm shifting beside you. He must be touching himself, like Gaz has been this whole time.

‘Fuck,’ Gaz bites off, tilting his head back as he lets go of his dick. ‘Fuck, Simon, just fuck him already.’

‘Patience, Gaz,’ Simon says, looking admonishingly at him. Despite that, a moment later he pulls Soap up, gently brushing his hands over his face, moving Soap around again as his dick hangs heavy and leaking between his legs.

‘I’ve been patient.’ Gaz tries, before you flop onto his shoulder.

‘Not for me, you haven’t.’ You pout. ‘Haven’t touched me or anything.’

‘You’re capable of touching yourself.’ Gaz gripes, trying to shake you off.

‘But I want you to.’

‘Come on, Gaz. Listen to them.’ Price chastises over your shoulder. ‘Touch ‘em like they want.’

Gaz sighs dramatically, and turns to you. He nudged you around so you’re sat leaning back on John, who’s still slowly jerking himself off, glancing back and forth between you and Soap, as Gaz runs his hands down your body, gently rubbing you at the same pace that Simon is fucking his fingers into Soap.

Johnny’s whining, squirming that he wants more, more, he’s fine, Simon, just fuck him please, desperation edging into his voice as he glances up at the depraved tableau on the sofa, as you take hold of Gaz’s dick in your hand.

Simon rolls his eyes and gives in, slowly pushing his dick into Soap once, before pulling back to fuck him hard and deep, twisting their bodies to give you the best view. Simon pulls Soap’s leg up onto his shoulder, letting you see Soap’s dick bouncing, leaking precum against his abs with each of Simon’s thrusts forward, as Soap clutches at his arms, begging for more and more and more, until Simon’s had enough.

He drops onto his back, as Soap scrambles to follow him, to keep Ghost’s dick inside him, ending up sat in Simon’s lap, squirming because he’s so full of dick, as Simon pats his ass and tells him to ride if he wants to finish.

John groans under you, his hand stilling as Kyle leans over your shoulder and kisses him, before John relaxes, and you feel him shift, catching you against his chest as he moves his hand to sit on top of yours, upping the pace on Gaz’s dick, as your own had started to slip when you felt it twitch in your hand. Kyle groans, and you feel his hand stutter on you, before resuming, dragging you closer and closer to orgasm with him, as you all watch Soap rock and and forth on Simon’s dick.

Johnny groans louder than anyone when he cums, his hands hitting the bed by Simon’s shoulders as he leans over him, making direct eye contact with him as he cums, hips rolling as his cum covers Ghost’s abs, before falling forward onto him, telling Simon that if he wants to fill his ass up he has to hurry.

Simon’s groan when he does just that permeates your mind, as John makes sure you and Gaz come at the same time, shaking as you press against each other inside John’s arms.

He chuckles, and kisses you both in turn, before Kyle tries to mash all of your lips together and once, and Simon has to step in to break it up.

‘Easy, now.’ He pulls Kyle from your lap, ignoring how you reach for him as Simon pulls you up to cross the room on shaking legs, in order for you to get into the bed with Soap, who immediately curls up to your side, his mouth hanging open, pressed to your skin your hands find their way to his head, gently stroking through his mohawk.

‘You know…’ Soap mumbles after a minute. ‘Only one thing I’d change about you.’

‘What?’ You say, not sure if you had heard him right.

‘Your last name. MacTavish would be much better.’

‘Nah. Garrick’s better.’ Gaz piles into the bed behind you, having been similarly helped across the room.

‘I reckon Riley.’ Ghost supplies, as he and John stand at the end of the bed, looking down at the three of you.

‘You should take a photo. They lasts longer.’ You curl one of your arms each around Soap and Gaz’s shoulders, keeping them close to your sides, like they had been when you woke up.

‘There’ll be plenty of time for that.’ John chuckles. ‘Pretty sure all of our good cameras are in storage.’

‘Yeah.’ Ghost confirms, wiping Soap’s cum off him with a shirt. ‘But, we’ll be clearing it out anyway, for them to move in.’

‘That’s true.’ Price nods. ‘Could have you all settled by the end of the week, love.’

‘Tomorrow, even.’ You think Simon is joking, with that, since even with the best will in the world, no one moves house in less than 24 hours.

‘Today.’ Soap half springs up from your side. ‘Why not by today?’

‘Because I want to cuddle today.’ You respond. You really don’t want to get out of this bed now. You barely wanted to get out of the first one, and now you have decided that you’re absolutely not getting up again.

But, if you hadn’t gotten up, you might not have made it here. In the biggest bed you’ve ever been in, two hot as fuck men at your sides, and two more climbing in to join you. Four men who would be there for you tomorrow, too. And the day after that, and that, for as long as you wanted them to be.

You snuggle back between Gaz and Soap, content to spend the rest of your day the way it began.

[lemonlover1110]

Hello! I hope you are doing well 😌 you are my fav writer and I just wanted to to throw out this crazy brainrot request to u bc I am SICK over it

So Florence nightingale syndrome right? Toji is like a professional boxer or whatever something athletic bc he's a fucking beast and he gets hurt, like his leg or something, and you become his at home occupational therapist. So you're like taking care of him and he's getting feelings for you while also being a stubborn ass bc u push him constantly so he can get better. and he's super hesitant to accept his feelings bc he's a Playboy of course.

I'm just picturing this one scene where you're helping him up and he's leaning on you and he says something like "are you sure you can handle me princess?" Idk I'm insane I'm sorry 😭😭😭😭

Pairing: boxer!Toji Fushiguro x f!caregiver!Reader

Warnings: Fluff, frustrated Toji, Florence nightingale syndrome, Toji has an injured leg and is a little bitch for a bit

*This was so fun to work on and now I'm having thinking a little too hard about boxer toji (I'm ovulating) sofjsof enjoy!

Discord 18+ - Twitter - Ko-Fi

Toji never really thought he’d be dependent on someone, yet now he can’t even take a shower standing up. After an unlucky boxing match, Toji ended up in a cast and crutches. That’s what he gets for not listening to his son who told him it was around time to retire.

“I’m not a fucking skeleton, I’m good in my field. I can do this for a couple more years.” How he wishes he could swallow his fucking words. He thought that after getting the cast off he’d go back to normal, and he’d have no issue with mobility. He shouldn’t have an issue moving his fucking leg again, he’s been moving it for more than thirty years, why should three months of not moving it change much?

Apparently he can’t do anything, which is why he has someone with him all day every day, helping him so he can get better. Toji’s main issue? He gets frustrated when someone tries to help him. 

“Be careful, it’s hot.” You smile at him as you put his dinner in front of him. He has a scowl on his face as you set it down in front of him. He tried to help make dinner but he couldn’t stand for too long. He’s mad, but not at you. He could never be mad at you. 

Toji wasn’t necessarily fond of you when you started working with him; he hates being dependent on someone else, and he knew that he would have to depend on you for pretty much everything. You try to help him though, and he should be more appreciative of you because of it, but in reality he feels like a fucking baby. He’s grown to like you though… A little too much for his liking. 

You leave him to eat, going to wash the dishes since he can’t do the task yet. Perhaps his own bowl and spoon, but not everything that needs to be cleaned. You watch him from the counter, watching his refusal to pick up the spoon and eat the soup you made him. Earlier he was so prideful, telling you that he would help you every step of the way during dinner, and he couldn’t even finish one third of it. You were proud of him regardless.

“It’s really good, Toji! The potatoes you helped peel really added a touch to it.” You’ve gotten close enough to be on a first name basis. You see each other every day, you stay in the same house, of course you’re close enough to talk to each other so casually. It doesn’t mean you should though. You’ve always managed to keep a very professional relationship with patients, but there’s just something about him that makes it hard for you to be normal around him.

“Don’t talk to me like I’m a fucking kid.” He says, pushing the bowl of soup away. He’s not hungry anymore. Toji stands up, his hands holding on to the table to support himself before grabbing his crutches. 

“Toji, if you’re not eating it, can you try to bring it over to me, please?” You ask. You know the soup has cooled down, if he spills it, he’ll be fine.

“If you want it, pick it up yourself.” Toji is clearly mad. You don’t take it to heart though, because you know it’s with himself and not you. 

“How about we go to the park tomorrow? It’s supposed to be a nice day out.” You talk to Toji who tries to watch a documentary. He’s not all that interested in what he put on, caring more about what you have to say. He might not show it, and he tries to deny it, but he has the biggest soft spot for you. “We can also get some ice cream, if you’re in the mood!”

“Hey… I’m sorry about earlier. I was just—” It’s hard to get an apology out of him, but sometimes he knows he’s in the wrong and he feels the need to apologize. He doesn’t want you to be mad at him, even though you’re clearly not upset with him. You’re so understanding and patient with him, he feels like he doesn’t deserve that.

“You’re fine, Toji.” You reassure him with a smile, your hand going over his balled up fist. You feel your heart skip a beat as you touch him. You’ve crossed the line past a professional relationship, and you should set some boundaries within yourself– But his other hand goes on top of your own before he brings it up, softly kissing your knuckles. It’s hard to set boundaries when he feels the same way.

“I’m tired.” He tells you, and you stand up to help him get up. Toji usually denies your help, but this time, he has no problem accepting it. You just want the best for him, and there’s some things that he can’t do completely alone. He has to take baby steps. He’s using you for support, and he’s scared that he’s too heavy for you. He asks you, “Are you sure, princess? Can you handle me? I know I’m pretty big.”

“You’re fine. I can handle you.” You reassure him, and you begin to walk to his bedroom. His room was previously on the second floor, but ever since his injury, he’s moved his bedroom to the first floor. You get him to his bedroom, helping him on the bed. You smile at him before saying, “Let me grab your crutches. You left them in the living room, right?”

Before you can walk away, he grabs your sleeve. Toji’s slowly realizing that he can’t fight off the feelings that consume him when you help him, and he’s usually not a fan of them. Toji’s been tied down once before, he certainly doesn’t want that again. But with you, it’s different. He doesn’t mind the idea.

“Will you lay down with me?” He asks, and you suck in your bottom lip between your teeth. You shouldn’t. He caresses your cheek with the back of his hand before he prompts himself up to kiss the corner of your mouth.

“Toji, you know this isn’t something I can do.” You tell him as he looks lovingly into your eyes. “I’m here to help you get better.”

“You can help me get better by laying down next to me.” Toji responds. You grab the hand that so lovingly touches your cheek and kiss it, before bringing your lips down to meet his momentarily. He swears he hears fireworks when your lips meet, even after you pull away.

He’s most definitely in love with you.

“I’ll go get your crutches. Good night, Toji.”