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cherry-leclerc · 6 months

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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.”

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pseudowho · 6 months

Text

Hanahaki

Nanami art by Osusiudon, picture edit by @pseudowho

Being in love with you was meant to feel good...so why was it killing Nanami Kento?

For more on the (purely fictional) Hanahaki Disease, please see here: https://fanlore.org/wiki/Hanahaki_Disease

I've altered things *just a little* to suit the story

Warnings: 18+, gore, smut, MDNI, unrequited love, angst, longing, hurt/comfort, cum as cure, TW anxiety, depression and low self-esteem

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"You've got to tell her. Nanami. You've got to tell--"

"--and burden her with this? No. It's inexcusable. This is...this is mine to bear."

Shoko stabbed her cigarette out with considerable force, driven almost to tears by this--

"--impossible man, Nanami Kento. You have options. We can fix this surgically, it won't be easy, but it will get rid of--"

"--my feelings for her," Kento interrupted, his voice brackish with pain, twisting in his lungs, all gnarls and knots and need. He felt the pain beginning to crescendo, doubled over on Shoko's surgery couch. If he groaned, he knew he would be choked in blossoms and blood. A fine mist of sweat collected on Kento's forehead, one arm wrapped around his belly as his lungs began to fill and burn.

Shoko was already lighting another cigarette, hands trembling, and snipped at Kento; "And what of it? She doesn't love you back, that's why you're in this mess."

Hearing the truth aloud was too much to bear, and Kento writhed, one strong hand gripping his throat as he coughed, choking, lungs and throat so full and packed and itching and--

--in one burning gasp, a congealed spatter of cherry blossom leaves and clotting blood left Kento's mouth at force, slapping into the surgery couch and dripping, viscous and sloppy, to the floor. Kento staggered, one knee collapsing, clinging to the couch as he retched and coughed, bent in miserable agony.

Shoko dragged on her cigarette, her back to Nanami, voice tight as she spoke; "So...you mean to die like this, then?"

Head swimming with blinding pain, feeling his lungs begin to fill again, Kento closed his eyes, pressing his forehead to the couch.

All he saw was you. Your smile, effervescent with joy. Your small touches to his arms, all just tactile innocence. Your laughter, ringing down corridors as the students lolloped out of your classroom. He thought of you and all you were and all you could be, with or without him.

Kento smiled, a bloody kiss at the corner of his lips.

"There are worse ways to die."

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Kento wasn't sure what was worse; the excruciating pain rooted in his chest, spreading longer and deeper through his torso with each passing day...or the certain knowledge that you were in love with someone else.

It was inevitable, of course; he was exciting, extroverted; Kento was dour and introspective. He was powerful, the strongest; Kento may never surpass 1st Grade, let alone achieve a domain. He would fawn, simper, flatter; Kento loved quietly.

Kento was tense in the staffroom, the petals building in his lungs so much faster when you were near. He needed to leave, needing to hide this from you, but he was twisted with the exquisite double-edged sword of the need to hear your laughter and the need to escape.

Satoru bent over beside you, whispering in your ear as you giggled, slapping him on the arm. Kento felt a nasty, burning envy as your eyes twinkled up at Gojo. He had not realised his eyes had strayed from his newspaper until you looked behind yourself, your cheeks flushing faintly as you felt Kento's gaze on you, of course I'm interrupting a private moment, idiot Kento you fucking idiot--

"Ken--...Nanami, are you alright? You look...pale." The genuine concern in your voice, the kindness you treated Kento with even though he was an insufferable bore, far too morose for pleasant company, made Kento stiffen, his chin jutted outwards.

Satoru looked disappointed as you turned from him, heading over to Kento, reaching out to put a hand to his forehead and shit, I'm done for if she lays a finger on me--

Kento flicked a hand upwards, batting you away as you reached for him, shoulders bunched with the urgency that you should never know about this, it's not her fault, she deserves to be happy--

"I am fine. I'm a grown man, I'd prefer not to be coddled." Kento felt his vision blacken at the edges with the need to cough, chest clawing, drowning, and he stood to the tune of your feet stepping quickly backwards, stumbling against the coffee table and I can't catch her because then I'd have to touch her hold her look at her and I'll die she'll never be mine god I want her to be mine I want her--

Satoru stepped behind you, long pale hands on your shoulders, stabilising you and shooting a scolding look at Kento's fast retreating shoulders. Your eyes were downcast, lips curled in and pressed together, hands clasped and twisting.

"Don't worry about it," Kento heard Satoru reassure you as he stepped out of the staffroom, "he's always been pretty standoffish, you did nothing wrong."

Kento made it to the end of the corridor before wrenching open a window, leaning out, coughing bursts of blood-spray-blossom. He blacked out for a moment as he leaned against the frame, scarlet and petals at the side of his mouth.

She doesn't deserve this she doesn't deserve any of this why are you like this why are you so fucking unlikeable Nanami you piece of--

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Kento wasn't sure when it started...this obsession. It wasn't like him, to become so hyperfixated.

Was it when you started teaching at the school? You had baked, keen to make a good first impression. You had taken particular notice of Kento, your keen eyes astute and reading him, laughing such genuine laughter, the. laughing harder at the surprise on Kento's face that you found his sardonic fatalism funny, but nobody finds that funny--

Was it the love, the protection, the fierce defending shield you offered the children? It was beautiful. Kento saw your rage and your sickened rants at the diseased establishment and god I could listen to her all day she's wonderful what a mind what passion she needs someone with the authority to make her vision bloom not some low-ranked cannon fodder destined to die in battle--

Was it when he and you fought together for the first time? It was so easy. You were smart, there was no ego, no competition, so seamless together and suddenly the work felt so light instead of the fucking drudgery I normally go through and we've even got time for me to take her out for dinner maybe I should ask her out to dinner maybe she'll say yes but it's too soon and she's just being friendly and she'd feel so obliged she deserves so much better she's a hidden gem I can't be the only one to have noticed--

Kento wasn't, of course. He just wished it wasn't Gojo, of all people, to have taken notice. As much as I can't stand the guy I know he wants life to be better for the kids too so of course you'd appreciate him and he's sweet with the kids too and no woman has ever said no to him and I lost my chance I should have asked her out when I had the chance I should have asked you fucking coward Nanami you jealous little bitch--

Satoru made short work of occupying your lunch breaks. He was effusive, open in his adoration. Not shy in declaring his enthusiasm for you. Kento saw you trying to battle an enormous bouquet into your car, and you caught his eye, blushing at having been caught, looking so awkward. You had laughed, eyes downcast again as Kento offered you a gentle smile. You shrugged at Kento, unsure what to say.

"I should tell him, don't you think?"

Kento felt his heart sink at your admission, it's only natural she should confess to Satoru when he's welcomed her in with open arms he's made himself pretty clear it makes it easier for her in fact and god I'd just be happy if she's happy really I just wish it was me instead and--

"Yes," Kento said, tight and clipped, missing the way your shoulders dropped in resignation, "it's best to be honest about these things. I find it's less stress on everyone if nobody misreads the situation."

You nodded, swallowing the lump in your throat; "Yeah. We wouldn't...wouldn't want that." Your hand hovered over your door as Kento turned his back on you and what we could have had and that's dead and buried now so just walk away and you can get over it Nanami it's not like you deserved that anyway--

"Have...have a good evening, Ke--...Nanami. Stay safe."

You too stay safe I love you I love you and I swear to god if he ever hurts you I'll rend him limb from limb I'll make him wish he'd never been bor--

"Good evening."

Walking away had gutted Kento alive.

First came the blood. Then came the petals.

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Kento could not make his mission, the day after the staffroom. He could barely make it out of bed, waking, again, to petals and blood, rust-red and congealed all over his pillows. He changed the sheets again, gasping for air, passing out for a moment upon the mattress, with one hand in each corner of the sheets, exhausted.

This lovesickness, this diabolical sweet agony...was the best death Kento could possibly hope for. Sat on the shower floor, naked, chest heaving as the water tumbled over him, Kento scraped pink crumpled petals from the blocked shower drain as the water began to build up around him.

Lying on the sofa, in just his boxers, Kento shivered in pain. He could barely towel himself dry, and he knew he must stay this way, now, too weak to make it back to his room for clothes. Is today the day? Will they find me today? If I die god I haven't seen her I need to see her before I die even if she doesn't know I'd like to hear her laugh just one more--

The doorbell rang. Kento huffed, coughing a horrible clumped mess of petals and blood into an awaiting bowl. His breath caught, no oxygen making its way to his limbs and he folded like wet cardboard onto the sofa, gasping, fingers clawing at his chest.

A timid knock. A voice. The gentle swing of a hinge.

"Kento? I'm coming in. Ijichi gave me your spare-- oh my god-- Kento-- shit, I'm calling an ambulan--"

Kento reached towards the door as you ran to him, fuck Ijichi you had absolutely no right idiot now she knows she fucking knows--

Kento burned as you knelt by him, hands splayed across his chest, his back, eyes feverish as you stared at him. Stared at the bowl full of blood and--

"...blossom? Kento, is this-- what's happening to you? God, you need Shoko...Kento? Stay with me please, I can't lose you--"

"--it's none of your damn business, get your hands off me!"

Kento had snarled at you, face and hands contorted, clearly in agony. Your face crumpled, biting back a retort, keeping yourself calm despite the venom and gore spitting from him. You took a single deep breath, in...out.

"It is my business. I know you hate me. I know you can't stand me being near you, and I don't feel that way about you-- quite the opposite-- but it is my business when I find you dying alone at home, so if you can stop being such a stubborn prick for just five minutes, I can get you into the car and get you some help."

Kento was near tears, cornered, a feral, wounded animal. Hate you I don't hate you I just can't have your hands on me like this when it's all I'd ever get and I want to hold you day and night and--

"Fuck, you have no idea," Kento groaned, sniffing into his forearm, forehead pressed to the sofa. You blinked down at him once, then, face fixed firmly, you slung his arm over your shoulders, heaving him up.

"Nope. Probably not. But why would I? You don't tell me anything. And why should you?" You snipped, and Kento lurched against you, who somehow held him up against you despite his weight.

"Move. Now. I've got blankets in the car."

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Kento lay alone, in his hospital bed, drifting in and out of consciousness. The gentle hiss of oxygen from his mask kept him company.

You had asked him in the car, so many times, who his unrequited love was. He was steadfast in his silent refusal. You had read of this sordid disease, but never seen it in person. And on Nanami Kento, of all people, any woman loved by him would surely leap at the chance, I mean I would, if only he didn't fucking hate me, I'm not good enough for him anyway--

"Who is it, Shoko?" You whispered, holding yourself by the elbows as you leaned against an examination table. Watching Kento fade away before you through the little window, filled you with a thousand slivers of ice. His visceral dislike for you, his urgent need to push you away...no. You could not allow yourself to love him as you might have done.

Shoko frowned at you, trying to read you. She looked through the window, too, tapping her fingers on a clipboard in thought.

"You have no idea, do you?" Shoko mused aloud, soft, almost wistful.

You felt bile rise in your throat; "I don't need that from you, too, that's what he said. You don't have to treat me like I'm some fucking idiot--"

"You."

You faltered, your hand slipping off the examination couch you leaned back against. You looked up at Shoko, jaw dropped.

"...I--I'm sorry, what did you--"

"--you. It's you. He loves you."

You burst out laughing, a single harsh sound.

"Shoko. He can't stand me. Any time I'm near him, he just--"

"He just what? He clams up? Shuts you out? Doesn't let himself get any closer?" You nodded slowly at Shoko, still dumbfounded.

Shoko continued; "Nanami isn't the kind of guy to put himself first. Especially now he knows how Gojo feels about y--"

"Gojo?" You cried, fingers pressed to your temples, trying to hold back tears, "All this time I've thought I'm not good enough for Nanami-fucking-Kento, and he's held himself back because he thinks I want Gojo?"

Shoko paused, halfway to lighting her cigarette, drooping as her mouth dropped open. She looked to Kento, and back at you. Shoko pushed the cigarette back into its packet, tapping the box briskly on the table.

"You've got one chance to tell him," she snipped, "before I knock him out and take him for surgery."

Shoko moved to step out of the room, as you felt hope squirm in your belly. She gripped the doorframe as she moved to step out, white knuckled, not looking back at you.

"It won't go away until--...well. You do have to love him. Biblically."

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You would wait until you had dropped him into bed, you thought, hands tense on the steering wheel. You were lying to yourself, you knew, your admission ready to burst out of you in furious blooms.

Kento was silent beside you, coughing occasionally into a handkerchief, less and less stained with blood and blossoms now. He was ashamed of himself for looking so pathetic and at least I can just die at home in peace now.

It took everything you had to keep your eyes ahead, instead of on him, still dressed in nothing but boxers and a blanket. You swallowed thickly.

"How are you feeling?"

"Fine." Terse, cold. You felt irritation bubble in your chest.

"Stop lying, Kento." He tensed beside you, at his name on your lips, so sweet, I could listen to it all night, I wonder what she'd sound like when she's calling it out around me--

Huffing, he turned to look out the window, "A little better. It's none of your concer--"

"I love you." Kento felt himself shoot through with warmth. The cloying petals in his chest began to shrivel. He was speechless, dark-circled eyes wide as he turned to stare at you. Your hands trembled, turning into the driveway, pulling the handbrake, switching off the engine.

"I always have. From the moment I met you, I knew. But you knew better apparently and you pushed me away and now you're so sick and I--I--"

You sniffled once, steeling yourself before stepping out of the car and round to Kento's door, opening it. You reached in, arms round Kento's chest and heaving him up, amazed at how strong you could be for him when he needed you. Kento did not fight. He remained placid, mussed, still smelling bed-soft and coppery as you moved him towards his door, unlocking it and taking him inside.

Kento had never felt so stupid. So ashamed. So unworthy. He had done this to himself, and for what? He replayed months and months of him and you, flashing like reels through his mind's eye, reframing all of your interactions, your discomfort with Gojo's advances, your pain at Kento's biting distance, you fucking idiot Kento this is all your fault like all the people you lose are your own fucking fault--

Kento felt himself dropped into bed, with no memory of the journey from doorway to bedroom. He looked up at you, truly looking at you for the first time in months, drinking in the soft acceptance in your eyes, how his pain mirrored in yours exactly.

You blinked first, a few tears slipping out as you stepped away, opening Kento's wardrobe and pulling out a shirt. Kento gulped, turning his head on the pillow as you began to undress.

"--don't do this just for me, you shouldn't feel obliged to stay--"

"Shut up. Idiot. You stupid, stupid man. I'm livid at you and I can do what I want, and you should shut up and do as you're told for once."

You could have insulted Kento until the moon waxed and waned a dozen times, and it would still have felt like falling into a bed of feathers, hearing nothing but I love you, Kento I love you, I always did, I love you Kento--

Kento's breath caught in his chest, still painful, but somehow easing, as he felt your weight settle into bed next to him. He tensed again, frozen to your warmth, for having held you at arms length for so long. You rolled, switching the lamp off. You faced him, in the dark. You could hear only the light rattling of his chest.

"Just let me stay. I...need to keep you safe. Even if I just watch you sleep."

Kento's face crumpled, teeth bared and gritted as he pulled a hand over his eyes. Gratefulness and relief stole away his voice. Quiet, nestled together in the dark, you heard the gentle susurrus of a hand sliding across the sheets. You jumped to feel the back of Kento's fingers brush across your belly, graze over your chest and down your arm, until your hand was plaited with his.

"Do you...do you mean it?" You pressed your eyes closed, so fragile from the weight of the day's admissions and revelations. Biting your lips with tears on your lash line, you nodded, Kento squeezing your hand, focused on your silhouette.

You remembered meeting Kento for the first time, the beautiful rush of gold in your vision, as you panned past his introversion and discovered treasure. You remembered reading his every move, the uncertainty of each other, the timid dance. You saw the questions in his eyes, never asked. You remembered his seeping coldness after the force of Gojo's overbearing affection. You remembered the distance, the sniping hatred-- only, it wasn't. It wasn't ever hatred. Just grief. Loneliness. Worthlessness.

Kento could only hold back his wretched coughing for so long, and you watched in horror as he forced himself onto all fours, back and chest rippling in agony as a burst of blossoms sputtered past his lips...only, less bloody now. Almost as if he was getting better but not quite--

Shoko's words came back to you, a ghost; "...you do have to love him. Biblically." You felt yourself shiver from shoulders to toes as you thought of Kento this way, taking you. All those nights, where you had tried to think of anyone but him, biting into the pillow as you fingers slid, wet and practiced, over your aching little bud. Only, for his voice, thoughts of him inside you, rooting through you, taking you over the edge into sweet oblivion...every time.

Loving him had become so involuntary, you thought, as he slumped into your arms, blond hair splayed across pink blossoms in the moonlight, exhausted. Despite his suffering, he looked ethereal like this, arm splayed above his downy soft hair, eyes feverish in the gloom. You felt this obsession grow, no longer pruned and restrained, now that you felt his urgent need for you.

Quaking, you lay yourself beside Kento, drawing your leg over him so your soft inner thigh rested on his groin. You felt him twitch, a little closeness only making his pain worse, the full weight of a fertile Spring wracking his lungs. Your fingertips grazed over his belly, and you felt him shudder beneath you.

"What--" Kento rasped, swallowing back the thick taste of blood, "...what are you...?" He stopped as you shushed him gently, one hand rested on his thick chest as you nosed the side of his neck, the shell of his ear.

"Let me help you." You felt Kento tremble beneath you, his hand coming up to clasp your thigh tighter over his groin. Kento overrode his desperation, shaking his head with a gulp, feeling pathetic and weak and she deserves so much better and--

"Not like this," he choked out, his chest heavy and cloying, "you deserve--"

"We've already wasted so much time, convinced we weren't good enough for each other. I deserve a life with you. And we can't do that if you're dead."

Kento broke, lost in the ecstasy of your soft kisses against his jaw, tongue flicking out to taste the soft sweat tang of him. Your fingers rose up to cup his face, turning him to you. The total certainty in your eyes as you leaned in to press your lips to his, made the air hit Kento's lungs with such blissful relief.

Kento felt bursts of strength with every scrap of love you gave him, enough to tangle his fingers into your hair, and swipe his tongue into your open mouth. Your little squeak of surprise ran through his belly, hot and needy, his cock throbbing in his boxers. Kento kissed you, hungry for relief, needing escalation as the petals began to clog his lungs again.

"Please, touch me," he begged, shameless in his wish to live, "--hurts--please..." Feeling his teeth nip into your lip, pushy and desperate, you allowed Kento to grasp your hand and trail it down over the honey-blond trail of hair on his belly, to cup over his rigid cock. He groaned with relief as you cupped his length, squeezing him until a drop of pre-cum seeped through the front of his boxers.

"--more, I-- I need more--" Kento twisted under your hand, squirming and prickling with the itching joy of your tongue tracing his ear, whispering soft reassurances as he moaned, bucking up into your hand, masturbating him through the fabric of his boxers.

You were mesmerised, obsessed with the effect you had on him. Your pussy throbbed, neglected, edging yourself by pleasuring Kento instead. You found yourself squeezing his cock harder, hungry for his panting breaths, his furrowed brow, the way his fingers clawed at you for release.

Climbing above him on the bed, straddling his hips, you slipped his boxers down and reached into his bedside drawer. His cock, heavy, thick, wet with pre-cum, settled on his belly, twitching as you released him. Your hand settled on a bottle of lube, filling your hand with this white, sticky, cum-like fluid, warming it on your palm.

Kento huffed, chest heaving again as he coughed, a spray of blossom landing on his chest and belly, sticking to the sweat misting his abs. You removed your underwear with your clean hand, resting your throbbing cunt on his balls. Ready to beg again, fingers sinking into the fat of your thighs with bruising force, Kento hissed as your lube-wet hand squeezed down the length of his cock, coating him in glossy slick.

The feeling of his cock, velvet-on-steel, thick in your hand, was a drug. Kento moaned, bucking up into the wet little plaps of your fist, as your hand stroked and squeezed the length of him. Kento felt himself squirm, head tossing and turning as he crumpled the pillow up in one strong forearm, biting into the fabric and blossoms there, frowning, moaning, gasping.

"--fffuuuck yes-- hnnng-- just like that, don't stop please don't stop--"

You leaned down, sinking your teeth into the broad plane of his pec, smiling in spite of the desperation of the situation. Your hand sped up, determined that the first time Kento spent himself, would be just that-- the first time. You would be his lover and his healer.

"I love you," you whispered against the rolling muscles of his chest, "I love you, and I'm staying, and I'll make you better again, I promise..."

Kento twitched, jerking with the force of the stimulation, his hand drifting to cup around yours, the other tugging the roots of his own hair. He moaned, long and stilted, writhing and begging.

"--god I love you-- your mouth, in your mouth please--cumming--"

Kento's seed spattered into your hand and across your tongue, your mouth not fast enough to reach his pulsing cock. Kento panted, short, twitching pants as he watched himself cum uncontrollably, his cum dripping down your cheeks, your eyelashes. Slowing down your strokes, squeezing the last drops of seed as Kento twitched and moaned, overstimulated, you were surprised to feel him remain hard in your hand.

With breathless grunts, and new colour in his cheeks, Kento reached down, pulling you on top of him, chest to chest as he held you, pressing open-mouthed kisses to your hair. You felt him grip you by the hips, slipping them downwards, your belly sliding on the cum dripping across his abdomen. Tilting your chin to look you up at him, Kento looked down at you, nose stroking against yours.

"...all this time?" He asked, so desperate for the reassurance. You nodded, feeling the tip of his cock at your entrance, straddling him so his cockhead pressed inside you.

"All this time...just crushing how I felt," you insisted. Kento was lost in the heat of your pussy clenching around his tip, bucking upwards involuntarily, begging to be invited in. Forehead pressed against his chest, his arms locked behind you, embracing you to him, you gasped as you rolled your hips, sinking him inside you, flush to your core.

You moaned, high-pitched and mewling. You felt yourself clenching, hot and wet around his twitching cock; you were not used to feeling so full, having abstained for so long, with no new suitor ever holding a candle to Kento. You felt Kento cough weakly, a smatter of shrivelled bloodless blossoms colouring your hair.

"--I've got you, I've got you--...shhh, I-- fuck you feel even better than I imagined-- I can't-- can't hold back, I'm--"

Kento's hips rolled up into you, both barely moving, entwined together in the soft silent dark. Belly pressed against his, Kento's cock curled hard against the front of your soft spongy walls, jolting insistently over the plush sensitive spot that made him feel belly-deep. Meeting his thrusts with your own, Kento growled out his sighs, chest rumbling beneath you.

"--worth it-- was all worth it for this...for you, I-- ...was so scared-- wanted to die in your bed-- so lonely--" Kento poured himself out to you, weakened and vulnerable inside you, his cockhead kissing your cervix as he kissed away the tears on your cheeks. The closer he got to his peak, the pain in his chest subsided, and he felt stronger, better, more alive than he had in months.

Kento rolled, flipping you over without warning, and knelt above you, grasping your hips so his cock stayed flush within you. Wrenching his pillow down the bed, he jammed it under the small of your back, panting, overtaken by something otherworldly as he stroked one hand down from your sternum to your mound.

"--selfish...I've been selfish," he berated himself, his long fingers slipping between your folds to find your throbbing little bud. You jolted, a high keening whimper leaving you as he rutted into your angled pussy, rolling your clit delicately between his forefinger and thumb. Kento glowered down at you, his eyes dark with lust, and you shivered under his cool gaze; suddenly, the man who had captured your heart all those months ago; "let's fix that, shall we?"

Kento wasn't sure how he summoned the strength to make love to you like this, his hips rolling with devastatingly slow precision, and you twisted beneath him, feeling every ridge of his bulbous tip as he watched where you were joined, pulling out almost completely before sliding all the way back, making you whimper and squirm.

"--together," Kento insisted, controlling your upcoming orgasm, his touches as accurate as your own fingers within yourself, reading you as you begged and moaned your way to orgasm. Kento fucked into you, hips stuttering, sweating and messy, desperate for you to cum so I can cum too and this whole fucking ordeal can be over god she's so gorgeous how did I get so lucky--

You trembled and whimpered, hands reached down and clutching Kento's thighs, feeling light as a petal on the wind as you came. Eyes closed, face relaxed with this heady, euphoric bliss, you swore you smelled the faint sweet-blossom-nectar of Spring wash over you, there and gone in the space between heartbeats.

Kento felt the weight of the world slip from his shoulders, suddenly whole and complete again, deep and emptying himself inside you with a shudder, your name on his lips; "--...so well--good girl, the best fucking medicine...thank you, thank you--"

Kento floated back down to earth, divine beneath the power being bestowed back into him. His chest cleared, supernatural by nature, his breaths now smooth and swelling. You stared up at him, eyes glazed, dazed by how you had moved him from death's door to demigod, in just minutes.

"I swear-- I promise you-- I'll be the best I can be for you-- the very best--"

"Idiot. You always were. You just...never saw yourself like I see you."

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assumptionprime · 1 month

Text

Playing Dark Souls 2 again and damn, in spite of its rough edges, I think it’s my favorite.

They’re all good, mind you. Dark Souls 1 is the foundation, and 3 is playing the hits while also saying that it can’t just play the hits forever and has to end.

And Dark Souls 2 is doing its own weird different thing and I love it.

I think it has the best story of the three games, because it really concerns itself with people.

The intro isn’t a list of people and monsters you need to kill, it’s your story. How you came into this land. You are afflicted with the curse of undeath, and it’s destroying your life and your mind. Everything that follows is based around that. You’re not the Chosen Undead, a title put on you in the first game because of a role you’re expected to play in some legend. You’re the Bearer of the Curse, because that’s your concern in all this, your curse.

You see it afflict others throughout the game, too. Most of the characters in Majula can’t remember how they got here, their goals, their lives before Drangleic are fading, same as yours. Lucatiel is by far my favorite NPC in any Souls game, a tragic view of another cursed undead that doesn’t quite make it. You fight alongside her. She confides in you, forms a bond with you. And then, as the last remnants of her mind, her self, leave her, she begs you to remember her name. Vendrick, the mighty king of Drangleic, is a shell of himself. He shuffles around in his own tomb, having long ago succumbed to the curse. He may as well already be dead. In every way that matters, he is.

And if you don’t figure something out, it’s going to happen to you, too.

Some to do has been made about the world layout not making sense. Some say it’s bad design or development troubles leading to compromises. Others say it’s intentional, that time and space are warped, though I think that’s either not true here or done much better in DS3. I subscribe to a third camp I’ve seen a bit less frequently: These nonsensical ways you move between some of these places are because you forgot how you got from one place to the other.

“So you got to the top of the tower, then what?”

“Oh, then I got on an elevator, which took me up— up to… I was on an elevator… then I was in an old keep sinking into a lake of lava.”

You’re losing your mind and your memory, you just can’t remember what happened between Earthen Peak and Old Iron Keep.

So you go slay the old ones, find Vendrick, seek out the ancient dragon, defeat Nashandra and—

It doesn’t work. You don’t cure the curse. You can either take the throne, or keep looking for a cure. We don’t see what kind of monarch you are to your ruined kingdom if you stay. And we don’t see you find a cure to the curse if you leave.

You lose.

It’s left to you to decide, does continuing to fight this fate have meaning? Is the struggle, in and of itself, worthwhile?

Dark Souls 2 is about going Hollow, and I love that it goes in such a different direction with its lore and story to be that.

#dark souls 2 #also yeah I know about the crown you get for doing all the DLCs #I always saw that as a non-canon little bonus

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kyseya · 22 days

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Once upon a time

‘Prince’ Yandere x reader

Imagine a reader in modern day society. She lives in a normal little town, went to your average school, lives in a normal house and has your everyday friendly neighbours. Like I said, her life is nothing out of the ordinary.

She feels lucky to have so many kind people in her life. Everyone knows everyone and isn’t afraid of lending a helping hand whenever someone is in trouble. The town is on the smaller side but very cozy. They have their own traditions like the annual Christmas market or the summer fundraiser. Nice stuff like that.

Everything is simply perfect! Or…well it would be if not for one tiny detail.

Unfortunately there’s one guy who just can’t seem to take a hint. Reader feels kinda mean thinking of him as a stain on the idyllic life she’s built. She doesn’t understand why he can’t take a ‘no’ for an answer. Everyday this hunk of a man walks right into her workplace like he owns the place and demands reader’s attention. With the way he’s acting you would think he’s dying and reader’s attention is the one and only cure.

It’s not like he’s ugly or anything, but a guy who doesn’t listen is just a 🚩

That’s not even the worst part. Another big issue is his…delusions.

Like, one time when reader was walking home she decided to stop by the market square since she needed some groceries. And guess who was in the middle of the square, somehow managed to climb onto the water fountain and proudly shouting at the top of his lungs? Part of reader’s soul disintegrated that day. What in the world was he doing!? He didn’t seem to be embarrassed either. No, with his nose pointed upwards he said he was going to reveal a big secret about the whole town. Silence filled he air, everyone was curious about what he was about to say.

What was this secret? Had someone committed a grave crime and was about to be exposed? Thoughts like that circled in everyone’s mind. Their imagination came to life and dreamt up various scenarios to what the deal was. People anticipated something foul, raw and sinful only to be met with grave disappointment.

You see, the man had suddenly declared himself as royalty in front of an entire audience. He claimed that the whole town was under a spell and had forgotten about their origins; being fairytale characters. And right now, only he was able to remember the truth. Alright, what the hell? That was ridiculous. What made it worse was the fact that he appointed himself as the towns prince and leader. Yikes. He said most- if not all- of the citizens where peasants and therefore his subjects. That’s why the had to listen to him from now on.

Reader wanted to peel off her skin and scream in that moment. The secondhand embarrassment was too much.

Bringing down shame upon yourself and your ancestors was one thing, but did he have to drag reader into it?? He claimed she was also royalty and should be treated with outmost respect. Why? Because he’s her husband! Of course his spouse need the 5-star treatment as well.

After the painful incident he’s always stopped by her workplace to talk her ear off. No matter what she said or did(or how much others complained) he never left. At least not permanently. In rare instances he did go with a downcast expression but he’d always be back full force the next day.

The man tells reader about the wonderful life they were going to have. If only the curse wouldn’t have been placed and they’d all been transported to the world they currently live in. It pains him so to know she’s forgotten all about him and the great love they shared. But it’ll be alright. After all, they found each other again and he refuses to let go.

Reader only half listens(he will throw a tantrum if he realises she’s not paying attention to him) as he drones on about how they first met in the forest. Of course he found her by hearing a wonderful song travel through the woods, he followed it all the way to her. They danced together and met every sundown from then on. It was so romantic. It’s impossible not to roll your eyes at the cliche imagery, it’s just so corny.

Yandere ‘prince’ also demands reader to refer to him by his royal, ‘real’ name. It’s not his real one, it’s something else. Everyone knows that- except him, apparently, since he refuses to respond to it. If you do use it, he’ll ignore you and pretend you didn’t speak at all. It’s very tiring, more so since he tries to enforce this delusion onto reader. He also won’t use her actual name and instead settles for this medieval one. Apart from that, he calls her ‘love,’ ‘darling’, ‘my heart’ and other cutesy nicknames that are far from appreciated.

It doesn’t matter what reader says, he won’t stop.

He insists he wants to be her saviour again. Sadly for him there is nothing to protect you from except the occasional spider that makes its way inside your house.

‘Well, it’s better than nothing.’ He would say before smacking and tossing it out.

He is willing to do anything for his lover. And that really does means anything. Nothing is off the table. It wasn’t before and it definitively isn’t now simply because of some lame curse. It can’t keep him form his soulmate.

He was your prince before, he’ll show you that he still is.

———————————

[This is kinda based of Once Upon A Time, though it’s been ages since I watched it. ]

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missqhughes · 23 days

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MORE THAN FRIENDS | L. HUGHES43

-> luke hughes x fem! reader

-> contains: angst (resolved), kissing, mentions of underage drinking, mentions of sex and sexual acts, fluff, use of y/n, lowercase intended

-> IN WHICH: all the alcohol has wore off, and y/n finds herself naked in her best friends bed. things take a turn for the worst when luke starts to hint regret towards what they did the night before; but what does that mean for their friendship?

-> part 2 to get comfortable! i’m sorry i can’t just write pure angst i’ll make myself too sad. but dw it’s gonna be so juicy. also if ur missing someone goooooood fucking luck reading this w dry eyes 🫥alsoloveitasmuchasidothankyouhappyreadingggg!

*fic is not proofread

18+ CONTENT BELOW THE CUT

the all too well known pounding headache was the first thing y/n woke up to; oh, and also being completely naked in luke’s bed.

her eyes made their best attempt to adjust to the sunlight that poured into his bedroom. she turned over to her side, and there was luke sleeping peacefully, the blanket dangerously low on his waist, revealing hickies littered all over his v-line and stomach.

with a heavy breath, she checks down her own body; chest abused with hickies, trailing all the way down to her inner thighs. a quick look over to her backside reveals a red, unmistakable hand mark on her ass.

there was no denying that she had sex with luke last night.

y/n feels the bed shifting, a groan coming from the boy next to her.

“oh, you’re already up,”

his voice is horse, a combination of his drowsy state and losing it the night before. y/n turns around to face him, lifting up the comforter to cover her chest, any attempt to conceal her bare body to his now sober eyes.

“yeah, i just woke up literally a minute ago,” she says, a small smile to accompany. his eyes scan over her body, taking in all of it, eyes fluttering in an almost of a surprise of what he had done with it.

“do you… do you remember anything of what we did last night?”

y/n started to recount everything of the night before, how she felt with he was thrusting deep into her, his teeth sinking into her skin. how he looked with his head thrown back when she was on her knees in front of him. how he kissed up and down her back, not daring to let go.

“yeah… yeah i do.” she said, mouth twitching into a smile, anything to cure the tension. luke said nothing.

and there it was.

silence.

silen-

“i think you should go.” his words were a lot colder and harsher than he intended, but he sat up, refusing eye contact with her.

“you know to like… shower and eat and whatnot.”

nice save, she thought.

“no yeah, you’re right, i’m gonna change then be out of here,” she said, collecting her scattered clothing all over the floor. y/n changed into her short pink dress from the night before, ready for the walk-to-the-uber of shame that was ready to greet her.

while she changed, luke also got himself into a pair of boxers. y/n glanced over to him for a second, the image of him in his boxers, tired eyes and his body left with evidence of sex on it being burned into her brain.

“i’ll see you later yeah?” y/n said, opening the door and expecting luke’s usual response of “always,”

he purse his lips before responding, “bye.”

his words weren’t cold, or harsh, but disconnected.

disconnected from her.

y/n looked back at him, and he was already facing away. she wanted to say something, but didn’t let herself. instead she turned around and left.

——————————————————————————

it had been days since luke had spoken to y/n.

a million and one thoughts were racing in her head, each causing more anxiety than the last. they would come up at random times, like a jumpscare any time she let her thoughts travel to luke.

cooking dinner,

did he think it was bad?

studying,

did he regret what they did?

laying in bed, at approximately 3:46am,

did she ruin their friendship?

enough was enough. she needed answers, and she needed them now.

she knew he had practice this day, so in about 20 minutes, y/n found herself stomping into the yost ice arena, on the prowl to find luke. practice had just ended, and she shoved past the other guys and ignored the looks of confusion they gave her each other.

she ripped open the locker room door to a surpised luke, jersey off, but still in gear. his mouth opened, but y/n wasn’t going to let him get the opportunity to speak before her.

“where the hell do you get off on not speaking to me? huh? is it because we fucked? is that it?”

y/n pointed her finger at him accusingly, her face contorted into a look of disgust, but also sadness, and confusion. she was on the guard, but deep down scared shitless of what he was going to say.

luke sighed heavily, facing away from her and shuffling with the things in his section, “i have no idea what you’re talking about.”

y/n scoffed, “bullshit and you know it. what is it? tell me the truth luke warren. so what, we fucked okay? is that really the only reason you don’t speak to me of all people for days?”

he still had his back away from her, but his with his head dipped down, arms on his side. “it was a mistake. we shouldn’t have done it.”

she felt tears welling up in her eyes, cheeks flushed hot with anger and embarrassment.

“i’m so glad you think that luke,” she paused, making the best effort she could to control the shakyness in her voice, or how her throat burned in an attempt to get the words out. “if this is how you’re going to act after what happened, don’t speak to me now, or ever.”

it stung like hell to say, but she meant it. having enough with the situation, not being able to bear how much it hurt for him to be in her presence, she turned around and walked to the exit.

she didn’t look back. not like last time. but luke did. his body faced her as she slammed the door shut, only catching the last bit of her clothing and hair, her scent lingering where she was standing. his eyes were tinted red from tears, breath caught in his throat from regret with what he said, and even worse, what he didn’t say.

——————————————————————————

weeks had passed since they last spoke.

y/n was a mess. she refused to go out, turning her nose up at even the thought of drinking. her body ached when her mind wandered to luke; what he was doing, how he was doing, if he was thinking of her.

it hurt like hell.

and there she sat, curled up in the shower, recounting the memories her and luke shared. how they were always the first to wish happy birthday to each other. sharing their first middle school class together. sitting by the firepit, talking for hours at the lake house. crying in each others arms when they both got accepted to their shared dream school. graduation. a picture her parents took of them hugging outside their freshman year dorm building. how they held each other when no one else would understand, how they would still laugh their asses off even when no one would understand the joke but them.

oh, how he understood her. how fiercely they cared for one another, how he was always there, how she loved him, how it was always him. if it was one person she could choose, over and over again, it was luke.

but he was gone. just like that.

y/n had been in there for so long her fingers were wrinkled, and the water had turned a numbing coolness. she forced herself to get out, thanking to god that none of her roommates were home, knowing how pissed they’d be about her water usage.

she changed into sweatpants first, then begrudgingly putting on one of luke’s sweatshirts, a dark blue crewneck that read “michigan hockey” across it. y/n knew it would hurt to wear it, but she wanted any bit of luke left she could have.

about 10 minutes had passed, y/n was combing through her slightly damp hair, when she heard a knock at the door.

she went up to answer it, thinking one of her roommates was back and had just forgotten their key.

instead, y/n was met with a clearly unwell luke. his eyes were dark from lack of sleep, lips resting in a frown, all resting on a somber face to top it all off.

she felt like she was hallucinating. that she was in a dream, that her body was going to twitch and bring her back down to earth, back to reality. back to sitting down combing her hair, luke nowhere in sight.

they said nothing but everything at the same time. their expressions exactly matched, but still not quite knowing what the other was thinking.

“luke,” she breathed out, his name in the air barely above a whisper. y/n’s eyes fluttered, the emotions coming in like they never did before.

“can i come in, please?” his voice cracked, his expression pleading her to come in more than his words did.

she nodded, moving out of the way so he could step in. she sat over to walk on the couch, adding a pillow to her lap, hoping luke wasn’t able to see her body shaking and riddled with anxiety at his presence. but also comfort, and hope.

“why are you here luke?” y/n asked, demanding to know why he randomly showed up, after weeks of silence between them.

he ran his hands through his curls, biting his lip harshly before delivering his answer, “i need to be honest, i needed to tell the truth to you.”

“i thought you did that when we talked in the locker room,” she hissed, “all of that sounded pretty truthful to me.”

she didn’t want to rude, but how could he say that after practically punching her in the gut that day?

“no, you don’t understand,” he kneeled down to her level, unable to control the shaky hands that he brought up to hold his head in.

“then help me understand luke,” y/n voice was much softer this time, chest throbbing with pain seeing luke in more distress than she has ever seen him in.

“i was scared,” he said in a short breath, teardrops painting his cheeks, “i was scared after what we did because i thought it meant nothing to you, that we were just drunk. that you would tell me that you regret what we did, but i didn’t. not once.”

her gaze bounced between his hazel eyes, shocked at the news he was telling her. his face didn’t relax once, as he continued his truth, “i’m so in love with you y/n. i’m so scared you don’t feel the same way. i care about you, i need you, i feel so fucking…so fucking lost when you’re not there. nothing has felt the same.”

“i should’ve told you the truth, and i’m sorry.” his voice cracked again, and now luke was in full on sobs.

y/n could say nothing yet, still in shock, now again feeling like she was hallucinating. she opened her arms, and luke sat down on the couch with her and came crashing in.

he buried his face in the crook of her neck, arms tightly wrapped around her, terrified that if he let go she would be gone again. he cried into her, taking in her scent, her warm skin, her gentle touch, all of which he missed dearly.

“i love you, luke. i love you, i should’ve said it sooner,” y/n felt the pain that had accumulated for weeks begin to disappear in minutes with luke, the only ailment to her sickness. he sighed, pressing his forehead to hers with closed eyes.

“we both should’ve said it sooner, i’m so sorry y/n. i cant let you go. not now, now ever,” he held her tighter than ever, shifting his head to plant a soft kiss on her forhead.

she cupped his face in her hands, seeing him look at her with so much love made her stomach flutter.

“you have me luke, always.”

that’s when he kissed her. it was night and day between the first time their lips met. the first was new, lustful, wavering in its stability. this time, it was familiar, warm and feeling like they both could go on like this forever. their lips moved in perfect harmony, y/n crawling atop luke’s lap to bring herself as close to him as she possibly could.

they just barely pulled away, desperately needing to catch their breaths.

“now you’re never getting rid of me lu,” she giggled,

“wouldn’t even dream of it,” luke said, laying her down on the couch in her fit of giggles, peppering sweet kisses all over her face.

——————————————————————————

xoxo, kaia

#luke hughes #luke hughes x y/n #luke hughes fluff #luke hughes smut #luke hughes x reader #lh43 #nhl imagine #nhl fic #hockey #new jersey devils #nj devils #umich hockey #umich boys #luke hughes fanfic #nhl #luke hughes x you

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deanwinchestergf · 11 months

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and why would an angel rescue me from hell? good things do happen dean. not in my experience. i'm not here to perch on your shoulder. i was getting too close to the humans in my charge. you. to everything there is a season. you made an exception for me. you're different. for what's worth, i would give anything not to have you do this. i learned my lesson while i was away, dean. i serve heaven, i don't serve men and i certainly don't serve you. but you guys aren't supposed to be there, you're not in this story. yeah, well, we're making it up as we go. i'm hunted, i rebelled and i did it all, all of it, for you. so what i'm thelma and you're louise and we're just gonna hold hands and sail off this cliff together? i need your help because you're the only one who'll help me. that's a pretty nice timing, cas. we had an appointment. what happened to you cas? you used to be human, or at least like one. but cas, you'll call right? if you get into real trouble? this is cas, guys. he has gone to the mat cut and bleeding for us so many freaking times, don't we owe him the benefit of the doubt at least? it sounds so simple when you say it like that, where were you when i needed to hear it? i was there, where were you? i'm doing this for you, dean. i'm doing this because of you. but we were family once, i would've died for you, i almost did a few times. i've lost lisa, i've lost ben and now i've lost sam. don't make me lose you too. cas, you child, why didn't you listen to me. you used to fight together, bestest of friends, actually. if you remember, then you know you did the best you could at the time. the very touch of you corrupts. when castiel first laid a hand on you in hell he was lost. i'd rather have you, cursed or not. well, i'll go with you. i prayed to you cas, every night. cas, we're getting out of here, we're going home. i mean you kept saying you didn't think it would work, did you not trust me? cas, it's me. we need you, i need you. i won't hurt dean. cause you didn't trust me? you didn't trust me. please, man, i need you here. nobody wants him here more than i do. you gave us an order, castiel, and we gave you our trust. don't lose it over one man. you really believe we three will be enough? we always have been. his true weakness is revealed. you draped yourself with the flag of heaven but ultimately, it was all about saving one human. i'm glad you're here, man. how are you, dean? and then you'll kill the angel, castiel. now that one, that i suspect would hurt something awful. and when you turn, everyone you know, everyone you love, they could be long dead. everyone except me. i'm not gonna send lucifer into battle inside cas, what if he doesn't make it? it's not an it, sam. it's cas. but you're always there, you know? i could go with you. you mean too much to me, to everything. i'm gonna cure you of your human weakness, same way i cured my own. it's a gift, you keep those. you mean we? yes, dumbass, we. we lost everything and now you're gonna bring him back. we got cas back, that's a pretty damn big win. just don't get dead again. it's good to hear your voice. so this is goodbye? but i swear if he did something to her, if she's- then you're dead to me. either get on board or walk away. i don't know what's god and what isn't, and it's driving me crazy. dean, you asked what about all of this is real. we are. you used trust me, give me the benefit of the doubt, now you can barely look at me. i think it's time for me to move on. you didn't deserve that. since when do we get what we deserve? maybe if you didn't just up and leave us. i left but you didn't stop me. i should've stopped you. you're my best friend but i just let you go. and i forgive you, of course i forgive you. i'm sorry it took me so long, i'm sorry it took me til now to say it. you did it cas. okay, cas, i need to say something. you don't have to say it, i heard your prayer. well, here's to being right. you know what every other version of you did after gripping him tight and raising him from perdition? they did what they were told, but not you.

#destiel #paula.txt

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itsawritblr · 8 months

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Holy shit, the New York Times is FINALLY interviewing and listening to detransistioners.

The tide is turning.

Opinion by Pamela Paul

As Kids, They Thought They Were Trans. They No Longer Do.

Feb. 2, 2024

Grace Powell was 12 or 13 when she discovered she could be a boy.

Growing up in a relatively conservative community in Grand Rapids, Mich., Powell, like many teenagers, didn’t feel comfortable in her own skin. She was unpopular and frequently bullied. Puberty made everything worse. She suffered from depression and was in and out of therapy.

“I felt so detached from my body, and the way it was developing felt hostile to me,” Powell told me. It was classic gender dysphoria, a feeling of discomfort with your sex.

Reading about transgender people online, Powell believed that the reason she didn’t feel comfortable in her body was that she was in the wrong body. Transitioning seemed like the obvious solution. The narrative she had heard and absorbed was that if you don’t transition, you’ll kill yourself.

At 17, desperate to begin hormone therapy, Powell broke the news to her parents. They sent her to a gender specialist to make sure she was serious. In the fall of her senior year of high school, she started cross-sex hormones. She had a double mastectomy the summer before college, then went off as a transgender man named Grayson to Sarah Lawrence College, where she was paired with a male roommate on a men’s floor. At 5-foot-3, she felt she came across as a very effeminate gay man.

At no point during her medical or surgical transition, Powell says, did anyone ask her about the reasons behind her gender dysphoria or her depression. At no point was she asked about her sexual orientation. And at no point was she asked about any previous trauma, and so neither the therapists nor the doctors ever learned that she’d been sexually abused as a child.

“I wish there had been more open conversations,” Powell, now 23 and detransitioned, told me. “But I was told there is one cure and one thing to do if this is your problem, and this will help you.”

Progressives often portray the heated debate over childhood transgender care as a clash between those who are trying to help growing numbers of children express what they believe their genders to be and conservative politicians who won’t let kids be themselves.

But right-wing demagogues are not the only ones who have inflamed this debate. Transgender activists have pushed their own ideological extremism, especially by pressing for a treatment orthodoxy that has faced increased scrutiny in recent years. Under that model of care, clinicians are expected to affirm a young person’s assertion of gender identity and even provide medical treatment before, or even without, exploring other possible sources of distress.

Many who think there needs to be a more cautious approach — including well-meaning liberal parents, doctors and people who have undergone gender transition and subsequently regretted their procedures — have been attacked as anti-trans and intimidated into silencing their concerns.

And while Donald Trump denounces “left-wing gender insanity” and many trans activists describe any opposition as transphobic, parents in America’s vast ideological middle can find little dispassionate discussion of the genuine risks or trade-offs involved in what proponents call gender-affirming care.

Powell’s story shows how easy it is for young people to get caught up by the pull of ideology in this atmosphere.

“What should be a medical and psychological issue has been morphed into a political one,” Powell lamented during our conversation. “It’s a mess.”

A New and Growing Group of Patients

Many transgender adults are happy with their transitions and, whether they began to transition as adults or adolescents, feel it was life changing, even lifesaving. The small but rapidly growing number of children who express gender dysphoria and who transition at an early age, according to clinicians, is a recent and more controversial phenomenon.

Laura Edwards-Leeper, the founding psychologist of the first pediatric gender clinic in the United States, said that when she started her practice in 2007, most of her patients had longstanding and deep-seated gender dysphoria. Transitioning clearly made sense for almost all of them, and any mental health issues they had were generally resolved through gender transition.

“But that is just not the case anymore,” she told me recently. While she doesn’t regret transitioning the earlier cohort of patients and opposes government bans on transgender medical care, she said, “As far as I can tell, there are no professional organizations who are stepping in to regulate what’s going on.”

Most of her patients now, she said, have no history of childhood gender dysphoria. Others refer to this phenomenon, with some controversy, as rapid onset gender dysphoria, in which adolescents, particularly tween and teenage girls, express gender dysphoria despite never having done so when they were younger. Frequently, they have mental health issues unrelated to gender. While professional associations say there is a lack of quality research on rapid onset gender dysphoria, several researchers have documented the phenomenon, and many health care providers have seen evidence of it in their practices.

“The population has changed drastically,” said Edwards-Leeper, a former head of the Child and Adolescent Committee for the World Professional Association for Transgender Health, the organization responsible for setting gender transition guidelines for medical professionals.

For these young people, she told me, “you have to take time to really assess what’s going on and hear the timeline and get the parents’ perspective in order to create an individualized treatment plan. Many providers are completely missing that step.”

Yet those health care professionals and scientists who do not think clinicians should automatically agree to a young person’s self-diagnosis are often afraid to speak out. A report commissioned by the National Health Service about Britain’s Tavistock gender clinic, which, until it was ordered to be shut down, was the country’s only health center dedicated to gender identity, noted that “primary and secondary care staff have told us that they feel under pressure to adopt an unquestioning affirmative approach and that this is at odds with the standard process of clinical assessment and diagnosis that they have been trained to undertake in all other clinical encounters.”

Of the dozens of students she’s trained as psychologists, Edwards-Leeper said, few still seem to be providing gender-related care. While her students have left the field for various reasons, “some have told me that they didn’t feel they could continue because of the pushback, the accusations of being transphobic, from being pro-assessment and wanting a more thorough process,” she said.

They have good reasons to be wary. Stephanie Winn, a licensed marriage and family therapist in Oregon, was trained in gender-affirming care and treated multiple transgender patients. But in 2020, after coming across detransition videos online, she began to doubt the gender-affirming model. In 2021 she spoke out in favor of approaching gender dysphoria in a more considered way, urging others in the field to pay attention to detransitioners, people who no longer consider themselves transgender after undergoing medical or surgical interventions. She has since been attacked by transgender activists. Some threatened to send complaints to her licensing board saying that she was trying to make trans kids change their minds through conversion therapy.

In April 2022, the Oregon Board of Licensed Professional Counselors and Therapists told Winn that she was under investigation. Her case was ultimately dismissed, but Winn no longer treats minors and practices only online, where many of her patients are worried parents of trans-identifying children.

“I don’t feel safe having a location where people can find me,” she said.

Detransitioners say that only conservative media outlets seem interested in telling their stories, which has left them open to attacks as hapless tools of the right, something that frustrated and dismayed every detransitioner I interviewed. These are people who were once the trans-identified kids that so many organizations say they’re trying to protect — but when they change their minds, they say, they feel abandoned.

Most parents and clinicians are simply trying to do what they think is best for the children involved. But parents with qualms about the current model of care are frustrated by what they see as a lack of options.

Parents told me it was a struggle to balance the desire to compassionately support a child with gender dysphoria while seeking the best psychological and medical care. Many believed their kids were gay or dealing with an array of complicated issues. But all said they felt compelled by gender clinicians, doctors, schools and social pressure to accede to their child’s declared gender identity even if they had serious doubts. They feared it would tear apart their family if they didn’t unquestioningly support social transition and medical treatment. All asked to speak anonymously, so desperate were they to maintain or repair any relationship with their children, some of whom were currently estranged.

Several of those who questioned their child’s self-diagnosis told me it had ruined their relationship. A few parents said simply, “I feel like I’ve lost my daughter.”

One mother described a meeting with 12 other parents in a support group for relatives of trans-identified youth where all of the participants described their children as autistic or otherwise neurodivergent. To all questions, the woman running the meeting replied, “Just let them transition.” The mother left in shock. How would hormones help a child with obsessive-compulsive disorder or depression? she wondered.

Some parents have found refuge in anonymous online support groups. There, people share tips on finding caregivers who will explore the causes of their children’s distress or tend to their overall emotional and developmental health and well-being without automatically acceding to their children’s self-diagnosis.

Many parents of kids who consider themselves trans say their children were introduced to transgender influencers on YouTube or TikTok, a phenomenon intensified for some by the isolation and online cocoon of Covid. Others say their kids learned these ideas in the classroom, as early as elementary school, often in child-friendly ways through curriculums supplied by trans rights organizations, with concepts like the gender unicorn or the Genderbread person.

‘Do You Want a Dead Son or a Live Daughter?’

After Kathleen’s 15-year-old son, whom she described as an obsessive child, abruptly told his parents he was trans, the doctor who was going to assess whether he had A.D.H.D. referred him instead to someone who specialized in both A.D.H.D. and gender. Kathleen, who asked to be identified only by her first name to protect her son’s privacy, assumed that the specialist would do some kind of evaluation or assessment. That was not the case.

The meeting was brief and began on a shocking note. “In front of my son, the therapist said, ‘Do you want a dead son or a live daughter?’” Kathleen recounted.

Parents are routinely warned that to pursue any path outside of agreeing with a child’s self-declared gender identity is to put a gender dysphoric youth at risk for suicide, which feels to many people like emotional blackmail. Proponents of the gender-affirming model have cited studies showing an association between that standard of care and a lower risk of suicide. But those studies were found to have methodological flaws or have been deemed not entirely conclusive. A survey of studies on the psychological effects of cross-sex hormones, published three years ago in The Journal of the Endocrine Society, the professional organization for hormone specialists, found it “could not draw any conclusions about death by suicide.” In a letter to The Wall Street Journal last year, 21 experts from nine countries said that survey was one reason they believed there was “no reliable evidence to suggest that hormonal transition is an effective suicide prevention measure.”

Moreover, the incidence of suicidal thoughts and attempts among gender dysphoric youth is complicated by the high incidence of accompanying conditions, such as autism spectrum disorder. As one systematic overview put it, “Children with gender dysphoria often experience a range of psychiatric comorbidities, with a high prevalence of mood and anxiety disorders, trauma, eating disorders and autism spectrum conditions, suicidality and self-harm.”

But rather than being treated as patients who deserve unbiased professional help, children with gender dysphoria often become political pawns.

Conservative lawmakers are working to ban access to gender care for minors and occasionally for adults as well. On the other side, however, many medical and mental health practitioners feel their hands have been tied by activist pressure and organizational capture. They say that it has become difficult to practice responsible mental health care or medicine for these young people.

Pediatricians, psychologists and other clinicians who dissent from this orthodoxy, believing that it is not based on reliable evidence, feel frustrated by their professional organizations. The American Psychological Association, American Psychiatric Association and the American Academy of Pediatrics have wholeheartedly backed the gender-affirming model.

In 2021, Aaron Kimberly, a 50-year-old trans man and registered nurse, left the clinic in British Columbia where his job focused on the intake and assessment of gender-dysphoric youth. Kimberly received a comprehensive screening when he embarked on his own successful transition at age 33, which resolved the gender dysphoria he experienced from an early age.

But when the gender-affirming model was introduced at his clinic, he was instructed to support the initiation of hormone treatment for incoming patients regardless of whether they had complex mental problems, experiences with trauma or were otherwise “severely unwell,” Kimberly said. When he referred patients for further mental health care rather than immediate hormone treatment, he said he was accused of what they called gatekeeping and had to change jobs.

“I realized something had gone totally off the rails,” Kimberly, who subsequently founded the Gender Dysphoria Alliance and the L.G.B.T. Courage Coalition to advocate better gender care, told me.

Gay men and women often told me they fear that same-sex-attracted kids, especially effeminate boys and tomboy girls who are gender nonconforming, will be transitioned during a normal phase of childhood and before sexual maturation — and that gender ideology can mask and even abet homophobia.

As one detransitioned man, now in a gay relationship, put it, “I was a gay man pumped up to look like a woman and dated a lesbian who was pumped up to look like a man. If that’s not conversion therapy, I don’t know what is.”

“I transitioned because I didn’t want to be gay,” Kasey Emerick, a 23-year-old woman and detransitioner from Pennsylvania, told me. Raised in a conservative Christian church, she said, “I believed homosexuality was a sin.”

When she was 15, Emerick confessed her homosexuality to her mother. Her mother attributed her sexual orientation to trauma — Emerick’s father was convicted of raping and assaulting her repeatedly when she was between the ages of 4 and 7 — but after catching Emerick texting with another girl at age 16, she took away her phone. When Emerick melted down, her mother admitted her to a psychiatric hospital. While there, Emerick told herself, “If I was a boy, none of this would have happened.”

In May 2017, Emerick began searching “gender” online and encountered trans advocacy websites. After realizing she could “pick the other side,” she told her mother, “I’m sick of being called a dyke and not a real girl.” If she were a man, she’d be free to pursue relationships with women.

That September, she and her mother met with a licensed professional counselor for the first of two 90-minute consultations. She told the counselor that she had wished to be a Boy Scout rather than a Girl Scout. She said she didn’t like being gay or a butch lesbian. She also told the counselor that she had suffered from anxiety, depression and suicidal ideation. The clinic recommended testosterone, which was prescribed by a nearby L.G.B.T.Q. health clinic. Shortly thereafter, she was also diagnosed with A.D.H.D. She developed panic attacks. At age 17, she was cleared for a double mastectomy.

“I’m thinking, ‘Oh my God, I’m having my breasts removed. I’m 17. I’m too young for this,’” she recalled. But she went ahead with the operation.

“Transition felt like a way to control something when I couldn’t control anything in my life,” Emerick explained. But after living as a trans man for five years, Emerick realized her mental health symptoms were only getting worse. In the fall of 2022, she came out as a detransitioner on Twitter and was immediately attacked. Transgender influencers told her she was bald and ugly. She received multiple threats.

“I thought my life was over,” she said. “I realized that I had lived a lie for over five years.”

Today Emerick’s voice, permanently altered by testosterone, is that of a man. When she tells people she’s a detransitioner, they ask when she plans to stop taking T and live as a woman. “I’ve been off it for a year,” she replies.

Once, after she recounted her story to a therapist, the therapist tried to reassure her. If it’s any consolation, the therapist remarked, “I would never have guessed that you were once a trans woman.” Emerick replied, “Wait, what sex do you think I am?”

To the trans activist dictum that children know their gender best, it is important to add something all parents know from experience: Children change their minds all the time. One mother told me that after her teenage son desisted — pulled back from a trans identity before any irreversible medical procedures — he explained, “I was just rebelling. I look at it like a subculture, like being goth.”

“The job of children and adolescents is to experiment and explore where they fit into the world, and a big part of that exploration, especially during adolescence, is around their sense of identity,” Sasha Ayad, a licensed professional counselor based in Phoenix, told me. “Children at that age often present with a great deal of certainty and urgency about who they believe they are at the time and things they would like to do in order to enact that sense of identity.”

Ayad, a co-author of “When Kids Say They’re Trans: A Guide for Thoughtful Parents,” advises parents to be wary of the gender affirmation model. “We’ve always known that adolescents are particularly malleable in relationship to their peers and their social context and that exploration is often an attempt to navigate difficulties of that stage, such as puberty, coming to terms with the responsibilities and complications of young adulthood, romance and solidifying their sexual orientation,” she told me. For providing this kind of exploratory approach in her own practice with gender dysphoric youth, Ayad has had her license challenged twice, both times by adults who were not her patients. Both times, the charges were dismissed.

Studies show that around eight in 10 cases of childhood gender dysphoria resolve themselves by puberty and 30 percent of people on hormone therapy discontinue its use within four years, though the effects, including infertility, are often irreversible.

Proponents of early social transition and medical interventions for gender dysphoric youth cite a 2022 study showing that 98 percent of children who took both puberty blockers and cross-sex hormones continued treatment for short periods, and another study that tracked 317 children who socially transitioned between the ages of 3 and 12, which found that 94 percent of them still identified as transgender five years later. But such early interventions may cement children’s self-conceptions without giving them time to think or sexually mature.

‘The Process of Transition Didn’t Make Me Feel Better’

At the end of her freshman year of college, Grace Powell, horrifically depressed, began dissociating, feeling detached from her body and from reality, which had never happened to her before. Ultimately, she said, “the process of transition didn’t make me feel better. It magnified what I found was wrong with myself.”

“I expected it to change everything, but I was just me, with a slightly deeper voice,” she added. “It took me two years to start detransitioning and living as Grace again.”

She tried in vain to find a therapist who would treat her underlying issues, but they kept asking her: How do you want to be seen? Do you want to be nonbinary? Powell wanted to talk about her trauma, not her identity or her gender presentation. She ended up getting online therapy from a former employee of the Tavistock clinic in Britain. This therapist, a woman who has broken from the gender-affirming model, talked Grace through what she sees as her failure to launch and her efforts to reset. The therapist asked questions like: Who is Grace? What do you want from your life? For the first time, Powell felt someone was seeing and helping her as a person, not simply looking to slot her into an identity category.

Many detransitioners say they face ostracism and silencing because of the toxic politics around transgender issues.

“It is extraordinarily frustrating to feel that something I am is inherently political,” Powell told me. “I’ve been accused multiple times that I’m some right-winger who’s making a fake narrative to discredit transgender people, which is just crazy.”

While she believes there are people who benefit from transitioning, “I wish more people would understand that there’s not a one-size-fits-all solution,” she said. “I wish we could have that conversation.”

In a recent study in The Archives of Sexual Behavior, about 40 young detransitioners out of 78 surveyed said they had suffered from rapid onset gender dysphoria. Trans activists have fought hard to suppress any discussion of rapid onset gender dysphoria, despite evidence that the condition is real. In its guide for journalists, the activist organization GLAAD warns the media against using the term, as it is not “a formal condition or diagnosis.” Human Rights Campaign, another activist group, calls it “a right-wing theory.” A group of professional organizations put out a statement urging clinicians to eliminate the term from use.

Nobody knows how many young people desist after social, medical or surgical transitions. Trans activists often cite low regret rates for gender transition, along with low figures for detransition. But those studies, which often rely on self-reported cases to gender clinics, likely understate the actual numbers. None of the seven detransitioners I interviewed, for instance, even considered reporting back to the gender clinics that prescribed them medication they now consider to have been a mistake. Nor did they know any other detransitioners who had done so.

As Americans furiously debate the basis of transgender care, a number of advances in understanding have taken place in Europe, where the early Dutch studies that became the underpinning of gender-affirming care have been broadly questioned and criticized. Unlike some of the current population of gender dysphoric youth, the Dutch study participants had no serious psychological conditions. Those studies were riddled with methodological flaws and weaknesses. There was no evidence that any intervention was lifesaving. There was no long-term follow-up with any of the study’s 55 participants or the 15 who dropped out. A British effort to replicate the study said that it “identified no changes in psychological function” and that more studies were needed.

In countries like Sweden, Norway, France, the Netherlands and Britain — long considered exemplars of gender progress — medical professionals have recognized that early research on medical interventions for childhood gender dysphoria was either faulty or incomplete. Last month, the World Health Organization, in explaining why it is developing “a guideline on the health of trans and gender diverse people,” said it will cover only adults because “the evidence base for children and adolescents is limited and variable regarding the longer-term outcomes of gender-affirming care for children and adolescents.”

But in America, and Canada, the results of those widely criticized Dutch studies are falsely presented to the public as settled science.

Other countries have recently halted or limited the medical and surgical treatment of gender dysphoric youth, pending further study. Britain’s Tavistock clinic was ordered to be shut down next month, after a National Health Service-commissioned investigation found deficiencies in service and “a lack of consensus and open discussion about the nature of gender dysphoria and therefore about the appropriate clinical response.”

Meanwhile, the American medical establishment has hunkered down, stuck in an outdated model of gender affirmation. The American Academy of Pediatrics only recently agreed to conduct more research in response to yearslong efforts by dissenting experts, including Dr. Julia Mason, a self-described “bleeding-heart liberal.”

The larger threat to transgender people comes from Republicans who wish to deny them rights and protections. But the doctrinal rigidity of the progressive wing of the Democratic Party is disappointing, frustrating and counterproductive.

“I was always a liberal Democrat,” one woman whose son desisted after social transition and hormone therapy told me. “Now I feel politically homeless.”

She noted that the Biden administration has “unequivocally” supported gender-affirming care for minors, in cases in which it deems it “medically appropriate and necessary.” Rachel Levine, the assistant secretary for health at the U.S. Department of Health and Human Services, told NPR in 2022 that “there is no argument among medical professionals — pediatricians, pediatric endocrinologists, adolescent medicine physicians, adolescent psychiatrists, psychologists, et cetera — about the value and the importance of gender-affirming care.”

Of course, politics should not influence medical practice, whether the issue is birth control, abortion or gender medicine. But unfortunately, politics has gotten in the way of progress. Last year The Economist published a thorough investigation into America’s approach to gender medicine. Zanny Minton Beddoes, the editor, put the issue into political context. “If you look internationally at countries in Europe, the U.K. included, their medical establishments are much more concerned,” Beddoes told Vanity Fair. “But here — in part because this has become wrapped up in the culture wars where you have, you know, crazy extremes from the Republican right — if you want to be an upstanding liberal, you feel like you can’t say anything.”

Some people are trying to open up that dialogue, or at least provide outlets for kids and families to seek a more therapeutic approach to gender dysphoria.

Paul Garcia-Ryan is a psychotherapist in New York who cares for kids and families seeking holistic, exploratory care for gender dysphoria. He is also a detransitioner who from ages 15 to 30 fully believed he was a woman.

Garcia-Ryan is gay, but as a boy, he said, “it was much less threatening to my psyche to think that I was a straight girl born into the wrong body — that I had a medical condition that could be tended to.” When he visited a clinic at 15, the clinician immediately affirmed he was female, and rather than explore the reasons for his mental distress, simply confirmed Garcia-Ryan’s belief that he was not meant to be a man.

Once in college, he began medically transitioning and eventually had surgery on his genitals. Severe medical complications from both the surgery and hormone medication led him to reconsider what he had done, and to detransition. He also reconsidered the basis of gender affirmation, which, as a licensed clinical social worker at a gender clinic, he had been trained in and provided to clients.

“You’re made to believe these slogans,” he said. “Evidence-based, lifesaving care, safe and effective, medically necessary, the science is settled — and none of that is evidence based.”

Garcia-Ryan, 32, is now the board president of Therapy First, an organization that supports therapists who do not agree with the gender affirmation model. He thinks transition can help some people manage the symptoms of gender dysphoria but no longer believes anyone under 25 should socially, medically or surgically transition without exploratory psychotherapy first.

“When a professional affirms a gender identity for a younger person, what they are doing is implementing a psychological intervention that narrows a person’s sense of self and closes off their options for considering what’s possible for them,” Garcia-Ryan told me.

Instead of promoting unproven treatments for children, which surveys show many Americans are uncomfortable with, transgender activists would be more effective if they focused on a shared agenda. Most Americans across the political spectrum can agree on the need for legal protections for transgender adults. They would also probably support additional research on the needs of young people reporting gender dysphoria so that kids could get the best treatment possible.

A shift in this direction would model tolerance and acceptance. It would prioritize compassion over demonization. It would require rising above culture-war politics and returning to reason. It would be the most humane path forward. And it would be the right thing to do.

*~*~*~*~*~*

For those who want tor ead more by those fighting the cancellation forquestioning, read:

Graham Lineham, who's been fighting since the beginning and paid the price, but is not seeing things turn around.

The Glinner Update, Grahan Linehan's Substack.

Kellie-Jay Keen @ThePosieParker, who's been physically attacked for organizing events for women demanding women-only spaces.

REDUXX, Feminst news & opinion.

Gays Against Groomers @againstgrmrs, A nonprofit of gay people and others within the community against the sexualization, indoctrination and medicalization of children under the guise of "LGBTQIA+"

#detransitioners #detransition #gender critical #New York Times #gays #lesbians #trans #trans insanity #long post #article #detrans #transgender #post trans #desisted

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