#I will also bring my metal pole | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

cherry-leclerc · 10 months ago

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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 million dollar man, lana del rey , yayo, lana del rey !

STOP AND READ:

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“You up for Vegas?”

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

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

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

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

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

“Yeah?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Exactly why.”

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

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

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

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

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

Yayo.

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

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

Let me put on a show for you, daddy.

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

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

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

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

Toto blinks. “She might be my favorite.”

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

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

“Where do you want me?”

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

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

“Oh, right. Um…”

You grin. “First time?”

He winces. “It was a friend's idea.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

He sighs. “Maybe I was changing.”

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

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

“It fucking sucks.”

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

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

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

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

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

“Correct.”

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

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

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

Tap tap.

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

"Warten! Warten!"

“Huh?”

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

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

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

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

“Oh, wow… I, umm… You’re welcome?”

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

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

He smiles. “It’s from Germany.”

“Authentic. How’d you get it?”

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

“Let’s just leave it at old.”

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

“I’m glad I was able to help.”

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

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

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

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

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

“What happened?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“I always am.”

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

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

“I wanted to see you.”

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

“Why?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Huh? Similar…that’s funny.”

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

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

“Oh, trust me, I did.”

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

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

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

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

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

“Can I take you home?”

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

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

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

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

“6’5.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“I am not acting like a child—”

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

“Excuse me?”

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

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

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

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

“But my things—”

“I’ll send for them.”

“My downpayment—”

“I’ll take care of it.”

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

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

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

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

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

Elizabeth gasps. “And you.”

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

“Of course. Take care, Toto.”

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

“You look tired.”

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

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

“See what?”

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

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

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

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

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

“I do mind. I mind a lot.”

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

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

“Wanna feel something nice?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“That’s a dumb question.”

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

“No.”

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

“Tempting, but still no.”

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

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

“He said yes.”

“The car talks now?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Hey!”

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

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

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

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

“Really?”

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

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

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

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

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

“I’m being serious.”

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

“I would take you—”

“But you’re busy— it’s fine.”

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

“Are you fucking with me?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

“What are you doing here?”

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

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

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

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

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

“Very.”

“Actually, I am too.”

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

“Is money the issue here?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

You gasp. “Are you insane?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Wait!”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Is it that obvious?”

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

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

“Do you need something?”

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

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

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

“What did you do?”

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

“What do you mean?”

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

He sighs. “Please do.”

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

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

“He what?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

You gasp. “I would murder him.”

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

“Nope.”

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

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

You’re going to miss me, watch.

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

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

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

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

“Is that so?”

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

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

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

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

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

“Oh shit.”

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

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

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

“Don’t worry. Can you get me a room?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“I’m not lying—”

“Really?”

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

“I never saw anything.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

“No.”

She clicks her tongue. “Are you sure?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

“That doesn’t matter—what’s wrong?”

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

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

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

“What else did she say?”

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

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

“I swear that’s all.”

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

“I’m not telling you.”

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

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

“Who did this to you?”

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

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

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

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

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

“But—”

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

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

“Why?”

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

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

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

“What, sweetheart?”

Gloomy eyes reflect against his own. “Leave?”

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

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

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

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

“I’ll walk you through it.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Your lips curl. “No idea.”

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

“Are you on birth control?”

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

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

Confusion paints your face. “To have you?”

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

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

“There it is.”

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

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

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

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

“Toto, Toto, Toto—”

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

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

“Looking good, Mr. Wolff.”

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

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

“I love you, Toto Wolff.”

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

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

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

“Uh…” Your lips stretch out. “Yes.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

You’d be a fool to deny.

So, you accept.

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

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

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

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

“I’m not quitting.”

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

More heavy silence. “Sure.”

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

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

“I’m taking the car. See you later.”

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

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

We should think about Jack.

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

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

I love you.

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

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

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

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

“Yes.”

“Great! Where is she?”

“Around.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

But this is strange.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

And he deserves it…you think.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Toto Wolff was just the same.

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

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

You’re screwed up and brilliant.

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

Look like a million dollar man.

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

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

So why is my heart broke?

“I’ll regret you for the rest of my—”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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shittalkerxox · 11 months ago

Text

The only way I can rationalise people accepting literal children going out and fighting crime as Robin is if they don't think Robin is a real child.

I think it would be fun to see how Bruce would use that to his advantage in protecting his kids. Like, if people think Robin isn't human, if they instead think he's a spirit or a ghost, they are less likely to shoot at him, less likely to try and physically attack Robin because they think it would be no use.

The fun part would be deciding HOW they would do this. I like to think that Robin's domino mask doesn't have a hole for his eyes but instead is glazed over so that he can see out of it, but you can't see in. Maybe they install small lights in it so it looks like his eyes glow in the dark, because can you image how fucking scary it would be to just see these two sentient light-like eyes and just know the Batman must be lurking somewhere close by?

Maybe Bruce installs super strong magnets in their gloves because on the chance that someone does pull a gun on his kid close range, it would be a lot easier for them to grab the gun away if they had the force of magnetism on their side. Also, grabbing onto poles and other metal materials would make all the scaling on tall buildings a little safer. Obviously, they'd need a way to turn it on and off, but still. Can you imagine, you're in a warehouse and there are steel frames fucking everywhere and you look up and suddenly there's a child gripping onto one effortlessly? Horrifying.

Maybe they have a voice box. Want to scare people? Play this really ominous recording of a child's laughter that echoes just a bit too loud to be normal. Play this ominous screaming that seems too silent to be real. Play this ticking that seems to never end that induces stress and increases the chance of them messing up.

What would be even funnier is keeping this act up with the Justice League and other teams.

Batman doesn't bring Robin to these meetings at the beginning because he sees no need to involve a preteen in such matters, but at some point the subject does come up and it's sort of like; So, Bats, what exactly is the kid? Like...is he yours?

And Bruce (paranoid as fuck) doesn't want to admit to these people that yes, Robin is my son because hello? That's gotta be his biggest weakness, he would do anything to keep that kid safe and fuck them if they ever tried to hurt him to get to Bruce.

So, he tells them that he's a spirit sent to haunt him and remind the city of it'd failures and the Justice League just... believe him?? Because this is Batman, and why would Batman ever lie about something so, frankly, strange? And it's not a huge deal, like they're a team comprised of metas and aliens and literal godesses, so what if the one normal human guy has a weird little ghost child? Who cares if he cares about it like it's a real boy? Maybe the baby spirit has rights, too!! They don't know!

So, when the JLA gets more popular and becomes an actual, legal part of the American government, they're required to list all of their members. And they class Batman as a human, because that's obvious but next to Robin, they don't really know what to say or how to ask Batman about it, ao they just put "Unknown Child Spirit - TBD"

And then just... never change it?

So, they don't question why a few years later Robin seems to look entirely different, or why after that he changes again, or why Robin is suddenly a girl for a while before going back to a little boy. That's obviously just some weird spirit thing they don't understand, and it's not like Batman is going to explain it!

#batman #batman and robin #robin #justice league #bruce wayne #dick grayson #jason todd #tim drake #stephanie brown #damian wayne #the kids obviously play into this as well making themselves seem not fully human #but also??#they arent exactly normal anyway so it really doesn't matter #dick joins a team for the 1st time as robin and everyone else is kind of like #“so...do you eat? are you...wanna play video games??”#and dick #who has been raised in a circus before joining a family comprised of batman and alfred has not really played any video games #and obviously there is no way a real human child has not played video games before so everyone never even thinks that MAYBE its not true #shit talker talks

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temilyrights · 3 months ago

Note

43) “god you’re so emotionally constipated.” for Emily x Reader please.

history smothers us

emily prentiss x gn!reader

summary: years of unspoken words and misconceptions threaten to destroy what remains of a once close relationship. you couldn't imagine your life without emily. now you look at her and feel every part of the ocean that destroyed you both. featuring prompt "god you're so emotionally consitpated" from my prompt list.

word count: 2.3k

warnings: angst with a happy ending. mention of blood. no use of y/n. set in season 12. unit chief prentiss.

a/n: thank you so much for the request <3 sorry it took me a while I struggled to find the right idea. I imagine this wasn't what you had in mind but I do hope you enjoy it anyway. also side note: i've deleted my taglist, i'm restarting because it was years old so if anyone would like be re-tagged or anyone new would like to be added pls lmk!

The police lights flash in the midnight sky. Agents and local police spread across the farmhouse. And you, sitting in the back of an ambulance, blood dripping down the side of your head, the beginnings of a headache making itself known.

The bright torch shining in your eyes makes you wince, but the EMT clears you of a concussion and hands you pain meds to swallow. You drag your hand through your hair, a frustrated sigh leaving your lips.

The unsub had come out of nowhere and whacked you over the head with a metal pole, and he probably would’ve done a lot more if it wasn’t for Tara being two steps behind you.

Honestly, you were fine. A little banged up, with a nasty bruise already forming, but the blood had been wiped away and it was almost like it had never happened.

Well, apart from the very angry Unit Chief Prentiss stalking towards you.

You wish this was an unfamiliar sight, but god she’d been back months now and you don’t think her smile had been pointed in your direction once.

“What were you thinking?” She scolds, voice sharp and eyes narrowed. You don’t miss the shaking of her hands as she holds them tightly on her hips or the rising flush of her cheeks, both she would blame on the cold but you knew they were born out of concern, not that she’d ever admit it. Not anymore.

“I’m sorry I didn’t realise the FBI now required its agents to have the abilities to see through walls.” You roll your eyes, the half-joke an attempt to fix her glare, but you know even as the words pass your lips it’s futile. Your shoulders slump, already too tired for the fight ahead, “He came out of nowhere, Prentiss.”

Her lips purse, “They require you to be able to clear a room. It seems you might need a refresher course. Maybe until you can be trusted and I deem you requalified it’s best you stay back in quantico.”

“What?” You ask incredulously. Of all the dumb things- “Let me get this straight, you’re benching me over nothing? Tara was through that door seconds later. I wasn’t defying your orders. You have no reason to do this!”

“I want you to redo your basic training so I know you can be trusted in the field.” She demands, stoic, serious, and so far away from the soft woman you used to be able to reach out to.

You laugh, but the noise is sad and wild. You shake your head in disbelief, watching the woman in front of you that years ago used to be the person you were closest to in the world. Now you stare at her and feel every part of the ocean that destroyed you both. “God, you’re so emotionally constipated.”

“Excuse me?”

You push yourself off the end of the ambulance, bringing yourself to your full height and meeting her gaze. You knew the day she accepted the unit chief position this wouldn’t end well, there was too much history, too much the two of you had left unsaid, hurt and anger smothering any possible relationship left.

“Let’s not pretend this has anything to do with my performance.” You begin, words low enough that if she didn’t listen the words threatened to disappear with the wind, “It’s because I got hurt and you’d rather damage my career and ruin the tatters of our relationship than admit that me getting hurt scared you.”

Emily steps backwards, face stricken. Her hands fall from her hips, her mouth opening and closing as she struggles for words.

You decide there’s nothing left she can say. You excuse yourself and grab a lift with Luke, happy to leave the crime scene and your boss behind. After everyone’s finished at the farmhouse and packed up at the police station it’s nearing two am and everyone is ordered back to the hotel to catch a few hours of sleep before the flight in the morning.

Your feet are dragging by the time you make it to your room. The meds have done their job though and your headache had faded away, but nothing but sleep was going to help your heavy and aching bones. You wave a tired goodbye to Tara, who unlike Emily had no issues checking in and making sure you were okay, and then retreat to your room.

You slump into the chair at the desk, telling yourself you’ll find the energy to get ready for bed in one minute. But so thankful to finally be off your feet. Your reprieve lasts only minutes before a knock sounds at your door. A withered sigh leaves your lips and you consider ignoring it but still find yourself pushing yourself upright and making your way back to the door.

When you open it, you wish you’d listened to your thoughts.

“Hi?” You say hesitantly, staring into the tired face of Emily Prentiss. There’s no anger, her shoulders are almost slumped, defeated maybe? You look away, too scared to analyse further.

“Can I come in?”

You open the door further allowing her entrance. She smiles, tight lipped at you, nodding her thanks. You close the door and wait for her to speak, pondering how in the hell you both got to awkward silences and forced tight lipped smiles when years ago you two could share looks across the room and know what the other was thinking, spent hours talking and laughing together, how you had built a life and never thought there would be a day that she wasn’t in it with you.

“We can’t go on like this.” She starts eyes meeting yours before flickering away, “Things between us have not been right since I returned and I think maybe we should clear the air. I want to be the Unit Chief, I want to be back here at Quantico but that only works if we can be a team.”

You scoff. It slips from your mouth, uncontrolled and harsh. Emily’s gaze snaps to yours, her surprise at the sound clear. You shake your head, “What is there to say?” Where would we even begin?

“I-” She chokes, blinking as the emotions claw at her throat. “I’m sorry for hurting you.”

Your brows draw in confusion as you shake your head, “What are you talking about?”

“After everything that happened with Doyle-”

Your eyes bulge, “You think I'm still upset about that? God, do you think I’m a monster? You survived. You lived. That’s all that matters.”

Tears pool in her eyes, but she blinks them away, her gaze shifting to the wall as her fingers pick at a hangnail. She looks back at you, still picking, gaze more open and lost than you’ve seen in a long time. “Then why? I hurt you. I can see it in the way you can barely stand to be around me, like it hurts you to even be in my presence.”

You blow out a breath, eyes moving around the room before they land back on her and then away again. “It’s not your fault.” You breathe, emotions lodged in your throat and heart beating wildly against your chest as you try and force the words out. “You didn’t hurt me, I hurt myself. There was never going to be a life I led that you weren’t right with me, you know?” You laugh, wet and broken.

Emily’s mouth falls open, her eyes emotional pits that you don’t dare hold.

“And then you left for London and I couldn’t exactly be upset because I had no say in what you did with your life. We were just friends. I knew it’s what you needed and I don’t resent you for that. I just…” You take a breath, “I was so angry at myself for missing you, for thinking that I could be someone you would stay for.”

And there it was. The truth. Because at the end of the day, you’ve always just wanted to be enough for the woman in front of you. For her to see you as more than just your friend. To one day have your feelings returned.

She’d left and you’d both been busy and you’d deliberately tried to separate yourself as well, drawing back from the painful reminder that you weren’t enough. And since her return, all those emotions have been resurfacing, however much you tried to keep them buried. Because falling out of love with Emily Prentiss was just not something you were capable of, and you’ve spent years trying too.

Emily approaches you, the space between you closing ever so slightly. Your gaze sticks to the ground, scared to see the easy to read emotions across her face. She takes a breath, the sound muffled by the beating of your heart.

“After I came back from Paris, I used to find myself looking at you and knowing I couldn’t be that woman you remembered, the one you sought for. I wanted to. Desperately.” Her voice hitches, and then lowers to a hoarse whisper, “I wanted to be the woman you fell for.”

Your eyes finally rise, against your will. Tears make their way in delicate paths down her cheeks, she looks every bit as lost as you feel. The only thing stopping you from falling apart is the fear that if you let go you may never recover.

“I didn’t need you to be anyone. I just wanted you to be yourself. I wanted you to trust me.” You respond gently.

She shakes her head, “No, everyone was looking for that version of me that I couldn’t grasp onto.”

“Emily,” You sigh painfully. Her face crumples, eyes squeezing shut at the sound of her name from your lips. It’s been so long, you know. “You were healing from a trauma. I’ve always wanted the authentic you, whatever that includes. Why would that suddenly change?”

She nods, a deep frown on her face as she accepts your words. Then a wet laugh, as she wipes away her tears. “I’ve missed you. Every day. I hate being in the same room as you and it being awkward. I used to be able to look at you and know what you’re thinking. I want that back.”

A small smile curves your lips, “Me too, more than anything.”

“Yeah?” She questions. Her teeth run across her lip, as she dares to hope. “You think we could get back there?”

Your heart hammers. “I just need you to be really clear here. What exactly are we getting back to?”

She steps forward, finally close enough to touch. Her hand hesitantly reaches out and touches yours, her cold fingers intertwining with your warm ones. Your body remembers her touch, relaxes and leans into it automatically. You eat it hungrily, tracking the movement before your eyes rise to meet hers and find soft, open eyes watching you. “I want to make you fall in love with me again.”

Your breath catches in your throat, tears pooling in your eyes as your hand shakes in hers.

“And this time, I promise, I’ll be there to catch you.”

“We might have a slight problem with that plan.” You laugh, trying your hardest not to sob.

She frowns, nose wrinkling in the way you adore. “What’s that?”

“It’s pretty difficult to re-fall in love when I never stopped loving you in the first place.” You huff, and Emily laughs, rich and free and bright. Her face joyful and happy, and with the wide bright smile you’ve waited months to feel pointed in your direction. God the sight makes your head spin.

“Is that so?” She asks, hand moving up to cup your cheek, eyes full of love and pointed at you.

You can only nod, dizzy from her attention and the emotions coursing through your body.

When her lips find yours it feels like finally coming home. Soft and delicate, both too scared to push too hard, exploring slowing even as her hand holds your cheek and yours fists in her shirt. You’ve waited years for this, and if you get more of these than it will be worth it. Everything is worth it for the feeling of Emily in your arms.

When she pulls away, it’s too soon. You follow her mouth and she concedes and gives you a couple more slow kisses before she stops herself, resting her forehead against yours.

“I just want to say sorry for earlier.” She whispers into the safe space you’ve built. “You were right, I was scared when you got hurt. Dave’s already kicked my ass for my response, you won’t receive any disciplinary action.”

You nod slightly, her forehead moving against yours, “Thank you.”

“It won’t happen again.” She promises, sealing the words with a kiss to your lips.

“I know.” You kiss her again, but this time you break out into a yawn midway through. Your momentarily forgotten exhaustion, making itself known.

She melts against you, caressing your cheek. “Oh, you need to sleep. We can talk more tomorrow. I’m taking you out for dinner.”

You bite your lip to hide the smile threatening to take over your face, “A date?”

She chuckles, rolling her eyes. “Yes, a date. But only if you sleep first.”

“Your wish is my command.” You can’t stop the grin from taking over your face anymore. You press a peck to her lips and lead her back towards the door. “I’ll see you tomorrow.”

“Tomorrow.” She agrees, eyes fluttering over your face as if she’s committing every aspect to memory. “Sleep well.”

“You too.”

She presses one last kiss to your lips before she opens the door and makes her exit. You close the door quietly behind her, sinking back into it and allowing the giggle to finally escape your mouth.

What the fuck had just happened.

Emily Prentiss kissed you.

Emily Prentiss has feelings for you.

You weren’t alone.

You bite your lip and push off the door, finally ready to get ready for bed and praying come morning that this would still be your reality.

taglist: @aburman03

#emily prentiss x reader #emily prentiss #criminal minds #season 12 #gn!reader #cm fic #fanfiction #kt writes #angst with a happy ending #history smothers us #not my gif

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chrissv4mp · 8 months ago

Text

- I COULD CHANGE YOUR LIFE —

chap 2 , love, chris — | — ...back — | — next...

summary: chris hangs around the plaza for a while, sneaking around the parking lot find your car and place a tracker on it. when you leave, chris knows this is all going according to plan, and you've fallen right into his trap.

pairing: stalker!chris sturniolo × singer!reader

warnings + topics: cursing, stalking, murder, weapons, blood, obsessive behavior, suggestive moments, breaking & entering, crying, arguments, chris is crazy, choking, drowning, first person, second person, etc. more than half of these topics are mentioned in later chapters.

author's note: hope u guys are enjoying this silly little story i made up in my head over the past few days. idk i just got a random boost of motivation & now here i am, writing about stalker!chris🤷‍♀️

author's note 2: yall are getting closer.......

word count: 3.5k

"i'm here around the clock,

i'm waiting on your block."

chris' eyes dart around the parking lot, leaning against his black bike that was still locked on a metal pole. his head turns downward, looking at the phone that sat on his shaky hand.

you haven't left yet. the red dot flashed over and over again, and suddenly, chris felt dizzy. stuffing his phone back into the pocket of his sweats, he leans against the pole, taking in the surrounding area.

multiple people were around, some girls making tiktoks by their cars and others chatting with some friends. his eyes didn't land on you until he looked back at the cafe you were at earlier.

your producers hand was on your wrist, dragging you behind him as he stomped his way to your car. chris almost laughed at how mad he was, it was like jamie had a crush on you.

chris' heart dropped, and now he felt sick. he hadn't seen jamie with you at the diner, but what if jamie did have a crush on you? a larger one than chris? what if you picked jamie over chris, your 'long-time' friend?

"this is what i'm talking about!" chris squinted his eyes, hearing only half of what the taller man was saying to you.

he wasn't allowed to speak to you like that, who does he think he is? chris couldn't stop the anger that washed over him for just a moment as he watched jamie continue to drag you.

there were gonna be marks left on your perfect skin, he needed to stop or else chris would something about it. and that's not exactly how he wanted to give off his second impression.

"jamie, would you just—hey! stop and talk to me for a second!" your voice is loud, almost yelling out into the open parking lot.

some people turn their heads, curious as to what was going on, but others mind their business and continue with their day. chris leaves the metal, creeping behind a car near where you and your producer stood.

jamie huffed, crossing his arms over his chest as he looked at you expectantly, "what do we need to talk about? there's nothing to say, y/n."

you bring your hands up to your head, rubbing your temples with your fingers. you can't even look at the blond right now, he always got like this whenever he was mad. he always shut down completely.

"if you could shut your fucking mouth and listen, that would be great." you bit back, eyes darkening as you stare at the blond.

chris lets out a quiet laugh this time, amused by your sudden anger at the boy. finally, you were doing something about jamie. from what the brunette bad seen, jamie always pushed you past point of no return. he also controlled you, and chris hated that. chris hated him.

jamie only scoffed, his ears picking up a quiet sound as his head turned in the direction of where it was coming from. his head turned back towards you, and he waited.

"listen, jamie. i love you, i really do, but you can't go crazy every time some stranger looks at me for even a second. i have fans, and million of people around the world know my name, it's not unlikely that people would stare." you sigh, an exasperated smile on your face.

the blond just sighs, listening intently as you continue, "just let me live a little, sometimes. i don't need you to protect me 24/7, i can assure you i'll be okay." you say softly, stepping to him as you look into his eyes.

chris feels another pang of jealousy in his heart, and he cringes at the way jamie stares down at you. his green, lovey eyes just make chris want to puke, that's supposed to be him!

"okay," the blond finally says, biting the inside of his cheek, "let's just get you home, alright? we'll talk about work over zoom tomorrow morning."

you smile widely, and chris blushes at your perfect teeth. why did you make him feel this way? why were you the only person who made him feel this way? it seemed like no other girl could compare to you.

he watched as you walked to your car, hand on jamie's shoulder. something fell from your pocket as you turned, and chris squinted his eyes in an effort to see it clearer.

it was a heart pendant, one that he saw regularly as he scrolled through your social media accounts every night. your dad gave it to you when were younger, and then he died in a car accident.

he remembers you writing about it in your captions, writing about how special it was and how much it was worth to you. there was even a song that you wrote about your dad, one of the lines mentioning the special pendant.

the brunette looks around, making sure you're in your car before running to grab the piece of jewelry and stuffing it into the pocket of his sweatpants.

chris scurries back to his bike, unlocking it from the pole as he keeps his eyes on your black suv. the growling sound of the engine starting almost made him flinch, and he quickly jumped on his bike as you pulled out of your parking space.

he didn't care to keep his distance, either, a mistake he made in the past that got him caught. but, bikers are always close to cars. he thinks. chris is still wearing the same black fresh love hoodie from earlier, not thinking to take it off before he began to peddle.

it was another awful mistake, but the car was higher up, and you couldn't see him in your mirrors. and plus, he needed something to cover his face or you would know it was him. he wasn't gonna take that chance.

the brunette thought carefully about his plan before he suggested that him and his brothers come to the plaza. he knew, by your recent instagram post, that you were here, and that's what got the plan started.

he didn't miss a beat, mapping it out and writing notes in a small notepad he kept hidden under his bed in that black box. he also wrote some letters, declaring his love to you but not actually signing it. every time he wrote the letters, he just signed, "love, c. :)" with the creepy smiley emoji.

there were millions of guys and girls who's names started with the letter c, so he wasn't worried when he actually started sending the letters a few months back, just before his 20th birthday. chris remembers writing about how much your music saved him and how he loved you a lot, just pouring all of his feelings out onto that sheet of paper.

he wasn't sure you got it until you had posted the note on your instagram story a week after his birthday, simply just typing a red heart emoji. that only added fuel to the fire, his obsession becoming stronger over the course of those few months, and now here he was, following you around on his bike.

"but please don't call the cops,

they'll make me stop,

and i just want to talk."

your car beeped as you pressed your keys, locking the doors before making your way down the sidewalk and up the porch stairs. you typed in the code, and you couldn't stop yourself from looking around.

there was a strange feeling in your gut that you couldn't shake, and it almost felt like someone was watching you. but nobody was. you couldn't see anybody.

looking back at the door, you opened it, quickly pushing yourself in and shutting the door. you didn't forget to lock it before going over to your curtains to close them. jamie had you on edge, filling your mind with the delusion that you had a stalker, and it was getting to you. slowly.

there was a large chance that someone was following you, stalking you. it happened to almost every celebrity, but it was never the same and somehow it always seemed to shock you how many different stalker stories people had.

your eyes move from the closed curtains to the pile of letters stacked on your coffee table. a shiver ran down your spine as you walked over, sitting down on the couch as you stared nervously at the pile in front of you.

your mail always consisted of fan letters, invitations to parties, and letters from your management and pr team, and you were always surprised when you read them. surprised was an understatement, actually. if you had to use a word to really describe it, you would pick terrified.

you were always terrified when you read letters that your fans had sent you. sure, some were nice and very kind, but once you got to the bottom of the pile, they got darker. some guy even sent you a strand of his hair, the words on the letter being written in dark red.. pen?

there were splatters of the ink all over the crumpled piece of paper, and you recount throwing up a lot that night. it wasn't pen, but you wouldn't have found that out if you didn't read the p.s. at the bottom.

you knew that should've been the first sign of a stalker, but you were younger back then and didn't really think about things like that. you were a dumb teenager living life, and you wouldn't blame yourself even now.

the doorbell rang, and you jumped at the sudden noise. you quickly got to your feet, glad that you wouldn't have to deal with your mail right now, but as you approached the door, that gut feeling came back.

there was a tall, dark silhouette standing on the other side of the wooden door. the figure was blurred due to the frosted windows on either side of the entrance. you continued walking, though, hands clenching into fists incase you needed to hit the person.

the person knocked, creating a catchy pattern before retracting their hand and waiting patiently. you finally reached the door, ready to punch the person as you opened the door.

when you looked up at the person, your face softened and you became less tense. your shoulders relaxed and so did your hands as you recognized the boy.

"hi," chris smiled warmly, toying with the hem of his beige t-shirt, "sorry to come in so suddenly."

you chuckled softly, eyes traveling down his body and catching sight of his black fresh love sweats. there was a small feeling of suspicion lingering in your mind, but you ignored it. chris would never stalk you. right?

"it's okay, i wasn't really doing anything. i just got home, actually." chris nodded, and before you could speak again, he pulled something out of his pocket and held it out in front of your face.

"i suppose this belongs to you?" he asks playfully, a sly smirk on his face as he dangles the pendant between the space of your two faces.

your eyes light up at the sight of the white, heart-shaped pendant hanging in front of your face, and you hold your hands out for chris to drop it there, "oh my gosh... chris—i... where did you find this?"

chris freezes. he didn't think about an explanation before walking up to your doorstep and knocking, "oh, uhm. well, i was just walking trevor and something caught his eye. it was on the sidewalk near that plaza a few blocks away. i let trev go home with my brothers and ran here."

"i thought it looked familiar, so i went on instagram, and what do you know? the first thing that pops up is a picture of you wearing it." his explanation doesn't sound fake, and chris himself would've believed it if he wasn't the one who spoke the words. this was a bad second impression, lying right to your face. he felt shitty now, and he couldn't shake the guilt.

"thank you, chris. seriously you don't know how much this means to me." you say again. you could thank him a million times and still feel like it wasn't enough.

the brunette boy just hums in response, a smile on his face as he stares at your beautiful e/c eyes. he always seems to get lost in them, even through the screen of his phone as he watches your interviews.

you move aside, beckoning chris to come in, "come in?"

chris bites his lip, eyes moving to look to his left. he left his bike lying in some bushes a few houses away, and his hoodie was also there, "i don't know.."

"oh, come on. i have pepsi." you smile, giggling as his eyes move in your direction again. he shrugs, a smile forming on his face as he steps through the door.

when chris enters your house, his eyes dart around the place. the things placed around show him a part of your personality, and he actually feels like he's getting somewhere this time. he's making progress with your relationship.

"take a seat, i'll get you a drink." you smile, catching a glimpse of his own as you pass by him and walk into the kitchen.

the first thing you do is open the fridge, looking around before grabbing two cans of the drink chris loves the most. as you walk back into the living room, he's waiting there on the couch.

his eyes are on your mail, entertained by the small stamps on the corners of the postcards. he got easily distracted, you knew that. maybe you watched too many videos of his and paid attention to him too much.

"here," you broke the silence, your voice gentle as you took a seat next to the boy, "your favorite."

chris chuckled, his cheeks heating up as he looked over at you. your lips were such a perfect shape, and they looked so soft. he just wished he could feel them on his someday, "thanks."

your mind begins to wander as chris opens the can, the cracking sound going unnoticed as you replayed the interaction with him just a few moments ago. you never told him your address, and it sure as hell wasn't on the internet, so... how did he know where you lived? you only just met the guy a few nights ago, and you can barely even remember anything you said to him at the diner.

"hey, how'd you find out where i live?" your voice was laced with suspicion yet again, and chris almost choked on the liquid he was about to swallow.

he covers it up with a cough, placing the can down onto the coffee table before turning to look at you, "i was just walking forward, honestly, going wherever my feet took me. then, when i turned the corner i saw you walking through the door."

chris knows it's not very believable, but it's not like he has any other normal explanation. okay, but seriously... wherever his feet took him?

the brunette just wanted to leave at this point, already so close to fumbling his plan and blowing his cover. he just hoped you would take the lame excuse.

there's still a look of confusion on your face, but it's subtle, almost like you really believe him. chris would frown if you weren't looking, were you really that gullible? anybody could take advantage of you at any time, and chris didn't like that.

your eyes scanned over the papers on your table again, and chris noticed you staring longer at one in particular. it was in a black envelope. it was in chris' black envelope.

"you're scared to open it." he thinks out loud, eyes drifting off and meeting your own nervous ones, "it's okay to be afraid, y/n, but you just have to face things in life to get over them."

chris won't forget the way you look at him in awe, a small smile on your face at his gentle, reassuring words. the brunette smiles right back at you, nodding his head toward the letter for you to grab it.

and you do just that, reaching out to grab the envelope and carefully opening it. you're slow with your movements, carefully peeling the flap off to make sure you don't rip it. the brunette learns something new about you every minute. literally every minute.

after you peel the paper fully off, you grab the card from inside of it and move the envelope out of the way.

chris doesn't lean over your shoulder, and you feel safe knowing that he respects your privacy. it just goes to show that his personality isn't an act for the camera.

"what's it say?" he finally speaks, and as you look over at him, he adds, "if you're comfortable telling me."

chris already knows. he only asked the question to find your thoughts about it, and how you would react to the words written.

your eyes go back to the letter, skimming over the words written in black pen. there's doodles all over the page, just as all the other ones sent from this anonymous person, c.

dear, y/n,

i saw your interview today, and you looked as beautiful as always. i loved the part where you spoke about the deeper meanings of the songs on your new album, it really gave me more of an understanding and made me feel more connected with the songs.

i feel like we're one in the same, you know? we have a lot in common, actually. if you didn't know, i'm also big in social media, so there's a hint on my actual identity. but enough about me, i just wanted to write to you again. you're the only person who truly understands me and i can't shake the feeling that we'd be perfect together.

there's a SUPER small chance of that happening, but a guy can dream. also, i hope u like my little doodles on these letters, i draw them while listening to your songs, and they're like little references to the titles! i just thought that was super cool (like u cause ur the coolest person ever like wtf??)

but yeah! i just wanted to pop in and tell u that you looked stunning in the interview and also that you're amazing. don't forget that. you are perfect in every way, shape, and form. yes, i'd still love u if u were a bug.

love, c. :)

— (p.s. i wrote this at like 2am but drew the pictures beforehand. like weeks beforehand.)

you smiled softly, blush creeping on your face as you giggled at the last sentence. you didn't even know the guy and he was already flirting with you. and you were falling for him!

"it's a letter from a few days ago, when i was on the late night show with jimmy kimmel. this guy is just complimenting me and saying he feels an even deeper connection with my songs now that i explained some of the meanings." you explain, head turning to look at chris as you let your hands fall into your lap.

chris nods, humming as his blue eyes meet yours again. he never missed a chance to make eye contact with you because it was only for a small amount of time, and it wasn't everyday that your eyes were on his. it was everyday that his eyes were on you, and yours were on someone else.

"there's a monkey," you smile, running your fingers across the oddly smooth piece of paper. chris would never consider himself an artist, but, hey, he did an amazing job drawing that cartoon monkey.

the brunette giggles along with you, leaning closer to your body and almost touching shoulders. this was probably the closest you've been ever since that picture you took together.

"monkeys are my favorite. i had a bunch of stuffed ones whenever i was younger, thrn our house burnt down, so." chris frowns as the memory of the house fire comes back to him, and you feel a rush of sympathy for the boy.

you reach a hand out to rest on his shoulder, rubbing it in an effort to comfort him, "i'm sorry chris. no one should have to experience that."

he only smiles at you, the look of sadness completely gone now. he can't let himself be vulnerable to you just yet. he has to wait until you're his, and he hates it.

"it's okay. that was such a long time ago, i shouldn't even be thinking about it anymore." he sighs, his smile growing even wider as he finally realizes that your hand is placed on his shoulder.

you tilt your head at the boy, a small frown still on your face. chris mirrors your expression, tilting his head in the same direction, "don't give me that look, it's like you're a sad dog. c'mon, you're gonna make me sad."

your lips curve into a smile at his words, shoving him softly at his playful tone, "okay, don't ever call me a sad dog again."

chris giggles, his cheeks heating up again as he stares at your beautiful face, "but dogs are cute, i love 'em."

blush creeps onto your face, and chris' eyes widen for only a second as he realizes what he just said.

"thanks." you tease, and chris hides his face in his hands out of embarrassment.

comment to be added to the taglist!

@livialifesblog @zayyluvz @1800-love-me @snowysosturn @mirioosos

@ladyy-whistle-d0wn @ginswife @spideylovin @dej4vhs @strnlxlqve

@joemamaaa42069 @fratbrochrisgf @slut4chriss @h3arts4harry @str4wberryk1ss3s

@riasturns @yurpppppy @nwlluvsturnsstars17 @asimp4chris @byneptunee

@ilove2021chris @freshloveforthefit @sturniologals @ifwdominicfike @sturnsdoll

@3lizaluvs @matt444nixi @nikki-starx @notmylaa11 @jetaimevous

@fionaheartswomen @sturni0l0 @sturniolofannn @sturniolofannnlmao @demzzz

@n3-vaeh @melanch0lybby

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in1-nutshell · 2 months ago

Note

Hi, is okay to do a request? A Christmas or New Years?

With TFA Silver Aid (you can also with TFA Ironhold, Ophelia, & Fearless, if they live in a same universe)

Or any other Buddy you like?

(also Take care & Merry (Early/Late) Christmas & Happy New Year!)

Made it just in time!

Merry Christmas and Happy Holidays!!!

Hope you enjoy!

Silver Aid, Ophelia, Ironhold and Fearless Christmas

SFW, Platonic, Famialal, Hinted Romance, Cybertonian/ Technoorganic/ Human reader

TFA

The idea of the holiday was introduced by Fearless.

It had just started snowing in the area when the human started bringing in boxes.

The Con’s didn’t question it at first.

Ophelia honestly thought that Fearless was finally moving in.

Ironhold also thought about this idea but kept to themselves.

They both were a bit upset when they found out that Fearless was not moving in.

Please ignore Ironhold’s blueprints to make a human room in the base.

No one saw them.

They don’t exist.

Silver Aid was getting a bit worried about the resident human when they started bringing in heavier boxes.

Soon Fearless asked for a meeting.

Megatron: “Let me understand this clearly.” Fearless pauses their presentation on the history of presents. Fearless: “Yeah?” Megatron: “You expect us to participate in some Earth holiday for fun?” Fearless: “Well, not entirely true but yes!” Megatron: “I’m afraid I’m going to have to put a damper on your plans.” Ophelia raises her servo. Ophelia: “It does sound nice to participate Father.” Ironhold coughs a bit: “It may boost moral as well.” Silver Aid: “The concept does sound lovely.” Starscream: “The colors aren’t so hideous to look at.” Blitzwing: “The scenery does look nice.” Lugnut: “Can we invite Strika to the holiday?” Megatron: “Enough! We are not celebrating this ‘Christmas’.” Ophelia gives his a pleading look. He looks away refusing to give in. Silver Aid: “Megatron—” Megatron: “I have made my decision Silver Aid.” Fearless crosses their arms. Fearless: “I guess I’ll have to drag all my stuff over to the Autobots then.” Megatron’s optic twitches a bit. Fearless: “And I bet Optimus would let me—" Megatron suddenly stands up. Megatron: “Everyone get to work on this Christmas thing!”

Lugnut and Ironhold are in charge of getting the tree.

Lugnut would have gone by himself, but it was it was clear to everyone that someone needed to watch him.

At least so he could pick a real tree and not some telephone pole.

It took a few tries before the pair managed to squeeze in a giant tree into the base.

Thank goodness Fearless thought about bringing scraps of metal to make more ornaments.

Starscream and Blitzwing were in charge of placing the lights and ornaments on the tree.

The Second in Command takes a liking to the shinier ornaments.

Ophelia and Silver Aid have caught him looking at his reflection in them.

Blitzwing loved putting the weirder and bigger ornaments.

Somehow managed to tangle his wings and Starscreams in the tree lights.

Neither of them knows how this happened.

Silver Aid and Megatron help with the lights around the base.

Using her alt mode, Silver is able to reach the higher and more narrow parts on the ceiling.

Megatron may or may not have used this as n excuse to ‘help’ her in the higher places that didn’t need an alt mode.

Has he caught her blushing after lifting her up with one servo to get the door frame?

…No… At least that he knows of…

Ophelia and Fearless are in charge of gift wrapping and making sure that no one tried to open their gifts before time.

Some culprits already caught were Starscream, Random Blitzwing and for some reason Ironhold.

Ironhold refuses to tell them why they were trying to peak at the presents.

But there was one last thing that Fearless needed to do…

Ironhold has Fearless in their servos. They were both walking to the final doorway in the base. Ironhold: “Explain to me again why you are putting a plant on a string above the doorways? Does it smell that bad in here?” Fearless finishes taping the last of the mistletoe. Fearless: “Listen Hold, I can not stand another YEAR of Silver and Meg’s pinning for each other. I’m going to speed run this slow burn as fast as I can, and mistletoe is the first step.” Ironhold: “But what is the plant going to do?” Fearless: “If two people—er bots, stand underneath it, they have to kiss.” Ironhold: “Oh… Oh!” Fearless: “Quick hide! Lia’s bringing them over!” They both hid behind a corner just as Ophelia ran to their side. She hid behind Ironhold’s pede. Fearless was in Ironhold’s open servo. Ophelia: “Here they come!” Both Con’s walk into the room. Silver Aid: “Did you see where Ophelia went?” Megatron: “She probably—what is that?” Silver Aid looks up at the tiny plant Megatron was pointing. Silver Aid: “Oh! That is Mistletoe! Fearless mentioned that you have to kiss under it. Megatron freezes for a second. Megatron: “Wha—” The Technoorganic gently holds his servo and kisses the back of it and smiles at him. Silver Aid: “This is such a sweet holiday! I’m going to tell Lugnut to bring Strika next time around!” Silver Aid walks off leaving a buffering Megatron to stare at his servo. Ironhold and Ophelia wince at the sight. Ironhold: “Well that was painful—HEY! HEY!” Fearless tries to swan dive off of Ironhold’s servos. Fearless: “I CAN’T TAKE ANOTHER YEAR OF THIS!!!! I DID NOT SIGN UP FOR THIS SLOW OF A SLOW BURN!!!” Ophelia: “FEARLESS DON’T!!” Ironhold: “YOU’RE TOO TINY I CAN BARELY HOLD YOU!!! STOP TRYING TO JUMP!!!” Fearless: “NEVER!!!”

#maccadam #transformers x reader #bot buddy #human buddy #silver aid #tfa ironhold #tfa ophelia #tfa fearless #tfa x reader #tfa x platonic reader

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orion-nottson · 2 years ago

Text

devil’s in the details | tfp!megatron x reader

A/N: i have tfp megatron brain rot. like i know he’s cray cray and deluded, but literally so am i we’re made for each other he’s mine

also this obvi deviates from canon, bc there is no way on god’s green earth that dreadwing and starscream could coexist semi-peacefully.

also, please be warned that i haven’t written transformers fanfic since i was like 14 💀💀 fought for my LIFE with the terminology (had to check my old WATTPAD stories to find some vocab 💀)

summary: lord megatron propositions you. it’s a rather bold request.

content: SMUT, 18+ ONLY, minors DNI, femme!cybertronian!reader, seeker!reader, sticky sexual interfacing, breeding kink, wee lil bit of choking, technically boss/employee relationship, power dynamic (it gets semi-resolved), implied past relationship/thought unrequited love, average decepticon emotional constipation, business arrangement procreation

word count: 6,367

~ * ~ * ~

The Decepticon warship lingers somewhere over the southern pole of Earth, resulting in a dramatic decrease in temperature, even with the efficiency of Cybertronian technology. You shift your wings for the umpteenth time, armor plates releasing air to alleviate the discomforting chill that’s started to bother you. Of course, it was far from being so cold that you needed to worry about your core temperature, but you are a Seeker from Vos, and Vos was always warm.

The thought makes your wings tremble again, so you hurry yourself to your quarters with a bit more haste.

It wouldn’t suddenly be warm and tropical, but at least you’d be able to curl up and shiver in privacy. Recharge sounds particularly nice too, considering you’ve been up for several cycles trying to appease Lord Megatron’s endless demands. Inwardly, you roll your optics— There seems to be nothing you can do that would satisfy him.

The corridor finally breaks into the wing that houses Decepticon high command, where yours and your fellow officers reside. Your room is down almost the entire expanse of the hall, the turn right before where Megatron’s personal habsuite lies. From where you’re walking, you can spot the sleek, black metal door. A chill runs up your back struts, and your processor convinces you it’s from the icy cold that’s overtaken the Nemesis.

“Curse this inhospitable, organic planet.” Muttering to yourself dissuades you from also blaming your Master, who was no help either, if you were to be honest. He could shove his “not wanting to expend precious Energon on unnecessary heating” decree up his tail pipe.

You resign yourself to some rather cold nights for the foreseeable future. Perhaps... If you played your cards right, as the humans say, you could convince Soundwave to pilot the ship north. Maybe somewhere near Hawaii...

A sharp, gravelly voice from behind you calls your name, and you spin around to see your Lord and Master a ways down the corridor from you. Immediately bringing yourself to attention, you straighten your back struts and bow politely.

“My liege.” You say, thanking Primus you’ve become so accustomed to Megatron’s thunderous shouts that you no longer jump, let alone flinch, when they occur. The silver mech strides up to you easily, displaying all the strength of a warrior in the confidence of his steps.

“Retiring to your quarters?” He asks austerely, as if he’s ever concerned himself with your whereabouts, let alone personal routine. Unease creeps up on you, so you shift on the thrusters of your peds and cross your servos over your chassis. Wings fluttering, you reply slowly, “Well, yes.”

“Allow me to accompany you there.” The silver mech says brightly, and it’s such an absurdly peculiar request for both the mech saying it and the situation at hand. You instinctively snort a laugh.

“I do believe I know the way to my own habsuite, my Lord.” You say before you can stop the words from coming out, and immediately regret them once they do. You meet Megatron’s hard stare sheepishly, wings dropping timorously. Forgetting your place in the grand scheme of things is not wise amongst the Decepticon ranks.

To your utter shock, you’re not met with a vicious reprimand and instead Megatron grins— this wickedly suave thing— and purrs, “Humor me.”

And all you can say is, “Of course.”

Megatron hums appreciatively, brushing past you as he takes the lead, like he always does. You step in time behind him, nearly colliding into his back struts when he suddenly halts, and you stumble backwards a few steps. The looming mech pivots, glancing down at you with a quizzical expression in his glowing optics.

“Seekers are a rare breed, yes?” Lord Megatron asks, and whatever game he’s begun to play with you genuinely stumps any reasoning you attempt. Opening your mouth, your optics dart over his face, trying to decode whatever message your Master is sending and coming up empty.

“Er... Yes, my liege? Even before the war, Vos was not a populous city-state. There are probably... even less now.” You reply cautiously, becoming very put off as Megatron takes a step towards you. He looks as impassive as ever, though you’re beginning to see a very curious appraising expression overtaking his faceplates. It begins with the upcurve of his mouth, derma pulled into the most wolfish grin you’ve ever seen on the mech.

Utterly bizarre. Your processors want to reset because this Megatron is starting to look like the studly gladiator of Kaon you’d hear be lasciviously giggled about, not the ruthless, merciless tyrant he’s supposed to be.

“I have a rather... avant-garde proposition for you, my most loyal Seeker.” Megatron purrs, his servos clasped easily behind him as you’ve seen him too many times before, often when he schemes. He’s also talking to you as if this is casual, expected business of him; matter-of-fact and cordial, with his usual cool drawl.

Before you can reply, Megatron turns sharply once more and begins walking down the corridor, stopping after a few steps when he realizes you hadn’t started with him. He turns his helm to look back at you, this time there’s this strangely unreadable expression on his faceplates.

“Follow me.” He says simply, and without a second thought, you do.

Even though you’re a Seeker with naturally long legs, his pedsteps are even longer strides, so you have to exert some effort in keeping up with Megatron. It adds to the growing franticness that’s begun to bubble up inside your chassis.

While not exactly fear, though that’s certainly part of it, you’ve been a Decepticon and aboard the Nemesis under Megatron’s direct command long enough to know that when he becomes cryptic, it means trouble. Or at least a command that you’d rather not be the one to deal with. Bluntly asking what the frag he’s on about wouldn’t be the best course of action, but you know that he likes you enough not to offline you immediately if you did.

So you do.

“My Lord, what exactly are you asking of me?” You inquire, noting with slight abject horror as Megatron approaches the door to your quarters and types in your lock code with ease. Of course, he is the leader after all. Instead of answering your question, he makes you feel even more uneasy by throwing you a mysteriously sultry look and quipping, “Let me have you if only for a breem. Or longer should I entertain you.”

You catch the flash of his ruby optics, their intentions indiscernible, and then he disappears into your habsuite like it’s his own.

There’s something to it, an itch of a thought that’s begun to decipher the puzzle and put together the pieces. Lately, Megatron has been far more... involved with you, more eager at your presence, and it was blatantly obvious that he grew quite miffed when others got too close. It was no secret to anyone— From Soundwave and Starscream to a lowly technician— that Megatron had an optic for you (many did, frankly) and thus he was quite possessive of your wiles and charms as well.

This line of thought leads you to step into your room, slowly and evenly as if it’s unmarked territory and not the quarters that were assigned to you millennia ago.

“Lord Megatron...” You trail off, catching his stare just as he sets your old null ray back on your weapons rack, where most of your old, dismantled, and prized tools are located. Your null ray had been a favorite, until some blasted Autobot blew out the important bits that kept it working. That had stung, and even eons later you still curse that specific Autobot to the Pits.

Megatron flexes his claws, and with a flourish he clasps his servos behind him once again. His red optics scan the entirety of your quarters, lingering on your berth until they come back to rest on you. His gaze is equal parts unnerving and fascinating, as if he’s deconstructing you armor by armor, stripping you down until he’s watched your spark pulse.

His optics, like twin red suns, center you at their universes, and you feel oddly... flattered at their amorous disposition.

“It is no secret that I have watched you for some time.” Megatron starts, tilting his helm as he becomes pensive. You nod dumbly, hardly processing a word he’s saying. Megatron takes a single step towards you, looming like a shadow. In the dim lighting of your room, his silver armor catches all the chiaroscuro, his violet accents hued to black. Only his glowing, fiery optics remain bright. He continues.

“I admit,—” Megatron drawls your name deliciously, “— That I have found myself... captivated by your beauty. Entranced by your prowess, both in battle and mind.”

“I...” Your vents hitch, wings shivering at the praise. Blinking rapidly to ensure this isn’t some monumentally vivid dream, you clear your intake and say, “I don’t know what to say. Thank you, my Lord.”

Megatron laughs, that slight chuckle that sounds halfway between his engines roaring and something genuine that comes from the spark. The silver mech’s rolls his shoulders, armor hissing as it releases air. Wildly, he confesses something you never would have expected from him, “I believe myself bewitched.”

His servos have clasped themselves into fists at his sides, and briefly you wonder if he’s angry with you, then his entire frame relaxes like he’s decompressing after a long spar with Dreadwing.

“Tell me, my little Seeker, why have you denied yourself of me for so long?” Megatron asks it like a tease, like he’s some boon to be revered or a sacred sword to be wielded. Heat rises beneath your armor plating, and your processors race kilometers a nanosecond to find a suitable answer. Or at least one that doesn’t make you sound like some lovesick femmeling.

You couldn’t lie and say you had no... feelings for your Master, who was as handsome and dark as he was powerful and cunning. Megatron was once a gladiator of Kaon, and gladiators on Cybertron were what you had often admired, marveling at their strength, drive, and raw spark. Megatron had been no different, though you also found his commanding presence and impressive intellect to be even more attractive.

That was really why you’d joined the Decepticon cause all those millennia ago; Drawn to your Master’s fight to bring equality to the rigid castes and to seize control of the Energon supply to better disperse it by his charismatic allure.

And somehow, Megatron knew all of this.

“It would have been insubordination if I acted upon my... desires.” You reply, crossing your arms over your ample chassis with a shrug. Megatron matches your collected temperament with a hum, staring down at you with unreadable red optics.

“Indeed. Though I wish you’d had disobeyed, my little Seeker.” Megatron purrs, taking a step towards you that closes the space between your frames and boxes you in. His EM field magnifies the atmosphere around you, tingling at the periphery of yours.

“M-My liege?” You gape, faceplates feeling hot as metal left in direct sunlight. He chuckles, and sinfully the tip of his glossa runs over his pointed denta. Your spark skips a beat, owlishly watching

“If I had known sooner that you wanted me as direly as I did you, then this song and dance would have concluded vorns ago.” Megatron growls, optics flashing with not anger, but lust. He takes another step, and you’re speechless.

“That being said, I am patient. I have no qualms with how long we have waited, nor will I if you choose to wait longer.” One of the tyrant’s long, clawed digits clicks at the bottom of your chin, tilting your face upwards. His touch is delicate, like you’d break if he pushed too hard. Honestly, you probably would if he did. Part of you wants to see him try.

“What did you want to ask of me?” You whisper, optics fluttering until they stay half-lidded and dewy under the carnal scrutiny of your Lord. Megatron grins, a sliver of sharp denta flashing in the lowlights of your habsuite. He takes a final step towards you, a half-shuffle that does well to close the gap between your frames, the air warming from the work of your combined engines. You hope he feels the way your spark races, hope he feels the heat emanating from your core.

“Give me an heir, carry a sparkling of my code and stand beside me as my queen.” With each word, laden with desire until it shows in his optics that drip with lust, Megatron has you against the wall of your habsuite, one servo tracing the sleek edge of your wing.

It’s entirely intoxicating, and against your better judgment and all remaining reason— and mostly because you haven’t had a good, hard frag in ages— you moan.

It’s a soft, angelic sound that barely catches on the audials, but it makes Megatron grin like a shark. You gasp, affronted, optics flickering, “My liege!”

“Have I offended you?” He breathes, and suddenly his mouth is against your neck cables, each word leaving the softest of kisses on your Energon lines. Your resolve nearly crumbles entirely, each brush of his dermas like a shot of high grade to the systems. You sigh, vents hissing, and place one servo on his chassis. Beneath the broad expanse of silver armor, his engines rumble like thunder on the horizon. It makes you pulse with need.

“No.” You whisper, wanting to sing as Megatron kisses the slope of your jaw, then pecks the side of your mouth, agape with shock. He pulls back, the heat of him evaporating as soon as he’s once again standing at his full height. You tremble, not from the cold, but from his absence.

It’s not something you’d ever given much thought about, your feelings towards your Lord and Master, but it’s something that’s come rushing back. All the suppressed thoughts, the dashed dreams, the impossible futures... They come back to you and leave you weak in the knee joints, cooling fans whirring from the memories of the fantasies you’d entertained when you’d had long midnights alone.

“What say you then?” Megatron’s stare is hard, unshaking and fully serious. He wants to have a sparkling with you, wants you to bear him an heir— He wants you as his queen and equal, to stand beside him and lead the Decepticon cause. The expression on his face is a cross between a wild animal, wanting to ravage you the nanosecond you say Yes, and the warlord with enough resolve and self-restraint to accept if you say No.

It’s all so much at once. Eons of time made up in just a single question. Details and technicalities will have to be conferred over later, as for now you’re content with the conditions as-is.

“Well... You are a handsome mech, my liege.” You reply, teasing him by placing a chaste kiss directly on the Decepticon insignia on his chassis. He doesn’t say anything, only his engine rumbles more audibly. You look up at him and salaciously imply with a coy smirk, “I do believe we’d make a fine clutch of sparklings.”

And then you find yourself swept up into his arms, back struts and wings pressed against the wall, your Lord’s hips slotted perfectly against yours. The more base urges inside you squeal, your Seeker coding nearly overtaking you and having you present to him like a turbofox in heat.

Not one to be outdone, Megatron quips, “And you are quite the striking femme— Shall I ravage you against the wall or your berth?”

You laugh, cut off only when Megatron captures your dermas in his, drowning you in the roughness of a mech starved of Energon. He kisses like he owns the practice and has made it an artform; Dragging your dermas with his, glossa invading your mouth, denta nipping dangerously close to sensitive nodes and wiring. You moan and gasp, coming to the realization that one of your servos grips his wrist and the other is flat against his chassis.

You shutter your optics, reveling in Megatron’s power and dominance, wanting so desperately for him to devour you. The warmth blossoms, spreading throughout your core until you feel charges pulse at your interface panels that have you whimpering.

After what feels like vorns, Megatron parts and your dermas unlock with a metallic pop. Megatron’s mouth ghosts over yours, and he hums as he repeats himself, “Berth or wall, little Seeker?”

“The berth, my liege.” You urge breathlessly, a delighted sound escaping you as Megatron heaves you from the wall and carries you to your desired destination. He isn’t gentle when he deposits you on your berth, doesn’t mind the wings, so you hiss when your back struts connect with the metal beneath you. Megatron manages to keep himself between the smooth metal of your thighs as he hitches one knee up onto the berth.

“I wonder,” Megatron stops to kiss you deeply once more, making your processors spin, “If this is an auspicious position for conception.”

A bite to the dermas stifles your wanton moan. Your Lord may not be fully aware of it yet, but each mention of being sparked, of bearing his heirs, has your more base urges spiraling out of control. While Vos was not populated by many Seekers, the need to breed is more hardwired into the programming than most other frame types. His words act like fuel to the fire.

“O-Oh— I can only hope.” You gasp, your whimpering cries smothered by Megatron’s dermas in yet another bruising, brusque kiss. This time, he lingers, slows down as if he savors the taste of you on his glossa. Your servos grip his shoulders, smoothing along his breadth before your pointed digits grip at the armor panels high on his back. Megatron responds most enjoyably, using one servo to anchor himself above you and the other to caress down your body.

His servo travels from the curve of your waist, talons scratching at your paint, down to the slope of your hip where it rests heavy and warm on the junction of your thigh. He teases the sharp point of his thumb digit on the transformation seam nearest your interface panels, causing you to arch your back struts like a cat. Megatron uses this opportunity to settle a servo on the low of your back struts, where he pinches at the sensitive nodes at the bases of your wings. That makes you cry out, your cooling fans whirring loudly as a charge builds up deep inside you.

You’ve never been this close to an overload so quickly before, though you’ve had many sleepless nights built up to bring you to this moment. And Megatron proves his expertise in the berth, past rumors and gossip proven to hold more truth than you once thought.

Your entire frame feels electrified, your lower body feels like it’s on fire, the heat centered gloriously on your interfacing parts. Particularly your valve and anterior node, which feel wet and pulse beneath the panel with each of your sparkbeats.

“You react so gratifyingly.” Megatron purrs, his gravelly drawl like fine high grade on the audials, uncharacteristically sweet and sensual. He glances down at your interface panels, where your glowing transfluid is beginning to seep out along the seams. With a devious grin, Megatron meets your gaze just as he presses his thumb digit to your overheated panel.

“Megatron!” You cry his name, forsaking honorifics, and nearly overloading on the spot. Almost unconsciously, you send a command and your valve panel slides open, revealing your weeping slit and throbbing anterior node. You cry out again when Megatron wastes no time and starts tight, small circles on the sensitive bundle of mesh wire and circuitry.

“Beautiful.” He hums, quickening his pace on your anterior node as he notices sparks fly as your charge builds. You grip his back, claws digging at his silver armor and leaving scratches in his already worn paint. Megatron leans in, steals your dermas in a kiss, keeps circling your wet node, and just as you see warnings for an imminent overload— He stops.

The charge doesn’t die, but it decreases to a staticky tingle, and you part from the kiss, scandalized that he’s prevented your overload. You gape at Megatron, giving him a glare that could rival the World Destroyer’s himself. He only offers you a sly look.

“My liege.” This time you growl the title past grit denta, bucking your hips against your Master’s still servo. He hums, your anger meaning nothing to him, though indulging you by brushing two digits along the transfluid-soaked mesh of your valve. You gasp, optics blowing wide as he pushes them in, mindful of his sharp claws, stretching you wonderfully.

There’s a slight burn at first, pain sensors sending alerts, alleviated as your frame adjusts to accommodate his thick talons. Megatron eases his digits back until they are almost out completely, then sinks them back in. Your knees come up, peds shaking as you hook them behind his back struts.

“Patience, my dear,” Megatron kisses your neck cables, “Is a virtue.”

And like he had your anterior node, he works your valve slowly, steadily building the charge that buzzes all the pleasure centers in your frame. Warnings for an overload screen your vision again, this time your optics flicker as it grows closer. Staccato vents escape your intake, fans skipping cycles and hitching, encouraging Megatron to go faster, digits plunging in and out of your valve with sopping, moist noises. The room smells like interface; the tinny tang of transfluid, the almost-burnt smell of metal-on-metal friction.

You moan, this time a long keen that crackles in your audials, and Megatron responds with the first pleasured sound you’ve heard from him: A low, throaty groan that he practically strangles in his intake like he doesn’t want it to escape.

“M-My liege, plea-please.” You whine, writhing, bucking your hips even as Megatron’s servo relinquishes your wings in order to still them. You sob, systems on the fritz as the charge crackles, your overload closing in due to Megatron’s working servo and digits. He laughs again, the breathy one that you adore, and surprisingly heeds your plea.

“I want you like this when you take my spike.” Megatron hisses, doubling his pace and making you scream. The wet squelch of your mesh grows louder, and with each thrust of his servo, his knuckle joint brushes your throbbing anterior node, whiting out your optics.

“I want you disheveled.” The tyrant presses close to you, tightening the cyclic thrusts of his digits, biting at the base of your neck cables. Your helm lolls to the side, voice crackling in constant whines as you squeeze your optics shut. He growls, sharp denta piercing an Energon line close to your shoulder armor, the pain mixing with pleasure and having you singing.

“I want you desperate.” Megatron snarls like an Earthen beast, the gruffness of his voice matching the hot stretch of your valve. Transfluid soaks the inner seams and mechanisms of your thighs, spilling onto your berth below. Megatron drags his dermas to yours, his glossa hot and heady as he shoves it in your mouth and dominates the kiss. You moan against him, gripping him tight and hearing the sound of metal screech as its torn.

The silver mech groans, low and rough, breaking the kiss and allowing his helm to fall besides yours. To the cables and wires of your neck, he leaves open-mouth kisses, condensation hot from his vents, then pulls himself up to your audials and whispers harshly:

“I want you as mine.”

The last word is punctuated by a hard push of his digits and his thumb squashing your anterior node, and your overload hits you like a system crash. You wail, wings fluttering and hitting the berth with metallic clangs as your body seizes, the charge overtaking your processors. Pleasure like molten lava consumes your frame, transfluid squirting out onto Megatron’s forearm like paint.

The overload lasts eons, like some supernova of a dying star. Your legs lock, armor plating shivering, wings hitched high and scraping against your berth. Maybe this is what death is, you think illogically, Maybe I’ve joined with the Allspark.

“Beautiful.” Megatron breathes again, his optics glowing in awe, “Positively beautiful.”

It takes a click for your processor to compute what he said, then another for your optics to blink back on. Coolant tears leak out the corners, blurring your vision. Your mouth gapes, dermas damp with condensation, your cooling fans whirring in loud in your audials. The grip you have on Megatron loosens, servos slipping until they fall upon his shoulders.

The charge in your valve mesh and anterior node quivers and bounces, and you realize with a pleasant tremble that Megatron’s digits are still firmly inside you.

“Megatron.” You coo his name, “Megatron.”

He says yours back, like all you’ve done and are doing is exchanging designations in a routine meeting and it reminds you of a time when things were simpler between the two of you. It’s been eons since Megatron’s seen you the way his ruby red optics gaze upon you now, eons more since you’ve felt seen.

War has made you both volatile, too tough and too angry to do anything else but fight, and fight some more. But here, in the privacy of your berth, blanketed by the secrecy of darkness: War can’t touch you. Nothing can.

“How I have yearned for you...” Megatron cups your faceplates, his servo cool against your overheated frame. You smile, still hazy from your overload and the lingering sensation of his other servo very much connected carnally to you, feeling like you’ve overdone yourself on too much high grade.

A switch flips inside you, the one that reminds you’re no fainting femme, but one that asks and will take regardless. You are a Seeker, after all— It’s in your code to want offspring.

“Give me a sparkling, my Lord.” Even though your voice wavers, it still sounds like an immutable command. The contemplative look on Megatron’s face morphs into the devilish one, and he snarls, removing his digits from your core. A thin line of gooey transfluid stretches between you and his servo, until Megatron brings it to his mouth and his glossa licks along the length of his digits. His optics narrow in as he hums.

“You presume you can command me.” And yet he obeys again, his interface panel unlatching with a hiss. His spike emerges, a long, thick one that fills in sections, ribbed along its length. Glowing transfluid oozes in droplets from its tip, rolling down the underside of his spike. Your jaw drops, both in want and slight alarm— Megatron is a large mech, you should have better anticipated a large spike.

“Know this, dearest: I will take you, ruin you, fill you up until my code takes.” Megatron promises, lining his bobbing spike up with your throbbing valve. He then grabs your hips, propping them up for a better angle. You quiver, writhing on your berth and bracing your servos on his forearms. His armor is hot under your touch, and your claws dig into the smooth of his paint. Then you match his stare, licking your dermas.

“Frag me like you mean it.”

Megatron suddenly thrusts his spike into you and you wail, unforgiving of your smaller stature. The delicate mesh and sensitive wires give and mold around the hot rod of his pulsing length, forming a slick suction around your lover. He groans, easing back then thrusting in with earnest. Your thighs tremble as you take him, each rimmed circlet of his spike passing into you, dragging deliciously on your valve’s walls.

It’s a tight fight, even with being loosened by Megatron’s thick digits. The transformation seams on your hips and thighs stretch, soft whirs and clicks as your frame adjusts to take him. He’s the biggest you’ve ever had, and the strongest too. The power in his hips drives you up the berth, and he pulls you back down.

You can’t meet his thrusts, but you try and buck your hips in time with him, erratic at first. Megatron’s servos are locked on you, guiding you when your movements skip or miss. All the pleasure centers in your frame are alight, charges sparking and fritzing along your circuitry. Another overload builds, a hot, deep bubbling in your core.

With each thrust of his spike, your valve squelches, the mesh slick and hot with transfluid. More drips down your legs, your aft, onto the berth, leaving everything tacky. Megatron hits a particularly sensitive node deep inside you, one you didn’t even know was there, and you keen. Coolant tears prick at your vision again, escaping the corners and rolling off your faceplates.

“How badly do you want it?” Megatron seethes, and you could mistake his lust for anger. He seizes your neck cables, dangerous talons threatening Energon lines, as he demands, “How badly do you want me?”

“Desperately.” You wheeze, optics whiting out as Megatron squeezes your neck cables just so as he gives you a series of particularly rough thrusts. Your peds tighten on his back, urging him deeper. Your Master vents, harsh and hot, his engine rumbling loud in his chassis.

“You will look...” Megatron chokes on a groan,”... Excellent with a trine at your hip.”

That makes you whine, Seeker coding squealing and preening at the thought. A trine. Three little sparklings just like their carrier. You’d delight in carrying them in your gestation chamber, wanting to see yourself change and swell to accommodate them.

“I want... I want,” Your voice cuts out, broken by a sob, and you can only manage a tight, “I want that!”

“Good.” Megatron pistons his hips like a jackhammer, his rhythm not breaking once. Powerful thrusts meet the wet heat of your core, the tops of his thigh armor clanking loudly against your legs. The overload warnings start appearing once again. Megatron hisses when your valve tightens around his length, and it prompts him to pick up the pace.

“You are so pretty.” He growls, leaning in to recapture your dermas with his. As he kisses, he doubles his speed and the strength behind it. You moan and sob into his mouth, servos gripping him by the back of the helm. His glossa battles with yours, his sharp denta nicking you more than once. Then he switches to kissing you deeply, soulfully, like he’s found salvation in your dermas.

It’s as you’re so viscerally connected to Megatron that the heat in your core reaches a boiling point, the slow-building electricity coming to its peak. Your valve walls spasm, the giving mesh convulsing in the telltale sign of your overload on the horizon.

Somehow accomplishing it, Megatron kisses you deeper, his faceplates flush and hot against yours. A particularly hard grind of his spike on the sensitive nodes of your valve has you gasping into the silver mech’s mouth. Your optics squeeze shut, you feel like your core is about to explode with heat—

Your second overload hits, just as spectacular and wonderful as the first. Electrified charges bounce between the mesh of your valve and Megatron’s throbbing spike, transfluid soaking him and yourself once again. It’s only after your audials tingle that you realize you’ve screamed loudly enough to reset them. Your systems crash, processors overheated and cooling fans hitching and trembling. With a hiss and a long grunt, Megatron follows you over the edge as well.

Warmth blooms in your core, pleasure nodes and receptors picking up the hot liquid feel of Megatron’s transfluid deep inside you. It comes out in spurts, and he rides his overload by continuing to push into you. As your optics come back online, you catch him hunching over you, ceasing his thrusts in favor of pressing as close as he can, spike still weeping transfluid and coating your inside walls.

Megatron hisses and groans, his frame shivering just once as he finishes, lazily bucking his hips thrice to empty himself completely. He doesn’t disengage his spike, leaving it to soften in your overworked valve. You can’t feel your peds, not after the overload you just experienced, and your entire frame shudders when he nips at your neck cables once again.

For a while, he hovers above you, his EM field embracing your frame. Softly, your servos caress his upper back struts, the tips of your digits dancing along his seams. His servos finally release your hips, revealing he’s left shallow dents in your armor. No matter, you’d wear them proudly.

“Do you have fiber cloths in your refresher?” Megatron asks, breaking the comfortable silence, his vocal processor crackling only slightly. A twitch of the helm is the best “Yes” you can offer, and brutally Megatron parts from you, drawing a soft whimper as his spike and warmth leave you. The thought of sliding your interface panel back on crosses your mind, but your anterior node and valve are still throbbing so tenderly you can’t will yourself to do it.

You hadn’t realized you closed your optics until Megatron’s approaching pedsteps makes you open them again. He stands before your sprawled, ruined frame, a sheer fiber cloth in his servo, reaching to clean you. Silently, he wipes up the glowing transfluid that’s stained your berth, then moves to clean what’s left on your body.

For a long few moments, the sounds of your cooling fans cycling down, wings softly scraping on your berth, and Megatron’s movements fill your habsuite. At some point, you hear the distinct click of Megatron’s interface panel closing and you tilt your helm up to see him putting his spike away. Also distinctly, the slight burn of soreness as Megatron wipes your exposed valve of excess transfluid.

You’d need to wash regardless, but it’s the thought that counts.

“That was...” And you have no words. Your voice sounds distant and far away, like you’re listening to yourself whisper from miles away. Megatron hums to fill your silence, then you hear the muffled sound of the cloth being discarded somewhere in your room.

“May I join you for the night?” Your Lord’s question is far more polite than it needs to be, considering the circumstances, but it’s

“Of course.” Your answer is quick and sure, marked by the tremendous effort you put in to roll onto your side, even though you still can’t quite feel your legs. You watch Megatron around your berth and sit at your side. He stretches, silver armor plates shifting and whirring back into place, the length of his back struts revealing his hidden Energon lines.

Then he swings his peds up and lays beside you like it’s the most normal action he’s ever done. Though you do have to scoot over until your wings stick out past the edge.

“I would like for this to be a repeated venture,” Megatron teases after he settles himself, “And if you will accept, for this to be continued past a successful newspark creation.”

He glances at you out the corner of his optic, its glow dimmed. You smile.

He’s never been one for grand romantic gestures, never one to speak about softer, kinder things like “love” or “sparkbonding”. It’s unbecoming of him, the Leader of the Decepticons, former gladiator of Kaon, dark Lord and powerful Master. You don’t know if he’d ever pose the actual question, or if it will remain as nebulous, vague riddles and coded phrases for you to decipher and analyze. It isn’t in Lord Megatron’s making to be tender— At least not in the explicit regards.

“I want nothing less for the sire of my offspring.” You reply, your frame curling around the curve of his chassis, servo finding the same spot it always had: Right above his insignia, above his spark. His engine rumbles evenly, the steady drumming could bring you to power down, though you’re kept awake by the pleasant ache between your legs, the chill of the Nemesis, and the pride in bearing your Lord an heir.

~ * ~ * ~

epilogue

Your berth is too small, much too small, for two Cybertronians attempting to recharge upon it. Megatron keeps an arm wrapped under and around you to prevent you from falling off, your frame halfway atop his. One of your servos rests under your helm, the other lazily traces invisible shapes on his broad chassis. Both of your EM fields mingle, the waves pulsing to each other in rhythm.

Earthen hours have passed since your coupling, and though you’re tired, you find yourself unable to slip into recharge.

“My Lord?” You catch his attention, Megatron optics flickering back as he pulls himself from the onset of recharge. Part of you regrets keeping him awake— Primus only knows how many sleepless nights your leader subjects himself to— and the other part of you quietly marvels at how he was nearly dozing in your arms. What show of trust is as great as that?

“If I am to carry, this means the Decepticon cause loses one of its strongest warriors—” You sigh happily as the warlord shifts so that his servo rubs your wings, tenderly caressing sensitive transformation seams and Energon lines. What more you wanted to say dies on your glossa, too caught up in the tender display of affection your Lord gives you.

“A temporary hindrance.” Megatron rumbles, shuttering his optics once again and stating, “The Decepticons will prevail.”

It falls quiet, fully so for a handful of clicks until you pipe up again.

“... And, we will need protoforms. And transitionary metals and alloys. And start the process of distilling Energon into low-grade, sparkling-safe—”

Megatron silences you with a deep kiss, one that has you purring in delight and cupping his faceplates. He lingers on your dermas for a few beats, his EM field heavy and warm on yours, lulling you closer to recharge. Megatron parts, settling down on his back struts, his frame creaking and hissing air as he relaxes. Then he sighs:

“We will discuss technicalities in the morning.”

#transformers #transformers prime #tfp #tfp megatron #megatron #megatron x reader #megatron x you #megatron x femme #megatron x cybertronian reader #cybertronian reader #femme reader

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misery-has-no-company-now · 5 months ago

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HELLO :)

It's been a while since New York received any love, so may I request any New York headcanons you may have? :3

*pls don't feel forced to answer this! <3*

Omg you are absolutely right the most loveable rat boy hasn't gotten enough love in a while ):

Time to change that!

[Using your idea of these four being brothers for this post though I do love me a good Yorksey fic (not incest!!)]

He loves cuddles, even if he pretends he doesn't. Mass, Jersey, and Cut will just see him standing there and whoosh! Grab him by the waist as quickly as they can and create a hug pile wherever they are at the moment - couch, bed, floor, basement filled with tiny children [/j], doesn't matter (they can lift him up easily because he may be tall but he's a thin bean pole okay <33 He's like if you stretch pizza dough too long and get thin pizza sticks)

All pigeons and rats love him. He can be anywhere outdoors and one of them is bound to approach him and nuzzle him lovingly because he deserves it (: Also crows. You know how they collect shiny objects and bring them to people they like? Yeah...Yorkie has quite a collection because of this now <33

Speaking of giving people gifts, my headcannon is that New York was a mentor as well as a semi-father figure to IDC because hey most of the UN bodies aren't in the state of New York for no reason okay. She regularly brings him fancy and exotic gifts from the countries she visits. I bet New York is one of those people obsessed with expensive pens or watches; and she really really indulges him with those. He deserves nice things okay (:

Yorkie is a very huggable person. You agree, very easy to hug. And since I hc that most of the NE helped raise the Western States - or at least make them accustomed to the US - Yorkie, Jersey, and surprisingly even Mass [Cut was more of helping the governmental organisations at this time] are very parental to the West; which is why if it is an especially bad rainy day for Washington, you might find him in the corner of the living room gripping onto New York's hoodie like a bird attached to its last feather. And California is practically attached to York's hip. Enough said. Some people say New York is a magnet that attracts and strongly sticks to the metal Cal is. Yorkie is just very loveable okay <33

Anyway, my brain isn't braining much right now because my stitches are being mean to me ): but that's the best I could come up with at the moment. Hope you enjoy!

#welcome to the table #wttt #wttt california #wttt connecticut #wttt idc #wttt massachusetts #wttt new jersey #wttt new york #wttt oregon #wttt washington #wttt northeast #wttt west

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milks-thoughts · 1 year ago

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is the request open? if saw! I want peepaw donnie with baby reader platonic request! I read your peepaw raph with baby child, And I went 'what about peepaw donnie' and i saw request is still open(or not) feel free to ignore this!

okay bet I pull up

what’s wrong? what do you MEAN you don’t like angst?

summary: Donnie’s child is sweet, too sweet, the world isn’t meant for sweet things anymore.

TW: death. only death. it’s just pain

Please Don’t Take My Sunshine Away

Donnatello was a man of science. He basked in it, he also considered himself a smart man. Someone who wouldn’t make brash decisions (that was Nardos job) so tell him why he found a yokai infant and immediately adopted it. It was a softshell turtle like him. “ An Apalone mutica “ is what he told his family when he brought the turtle infant home, Leo and Raph both showed worry to him having a child. Mikey was more than supportive. “ wait- what kind of turtle? “ asked April. He paused “ A smooth softshell turtle. It, “ he paused looking down at you “ They, are a smooth softshell turtle “. April smiled gently before Mikey jumped in “ AWWW! they’re soo cute! You’re gonna have to make ‘em a little baby battleshell! “ he still hadn’t lost his spunk to the apocalyptic downfall, even if his older brothers had. Raph struggled with everyone’s safety and health. Leo’s shoulders sagged with the responsibility of the resistance and the guilt of it all. Donnie was stressed with the tech he needs to make it work. He smiled when he walked off with you. Leaving his family behind him. He didn’t mean to leave them behind.

Despite the constant crying, he was more then patient with you. You weren’t exactly an easy baby, always whining whenever Donnie tried leaving you. Y’know how sometimes parents have those nightmares about their kids dying? he had more then his fair share of them. Every time he fell asleep he gets these dreams that seem more prophetic then anything. It’s of you, you’re older, probably in your early teens and he watches you die two ways. Being crushed by a falling building and..drowning. Donnie always pulls you out of the water, he always tries to bring you back but then not even a shaky breath and you go limp in his arms. Donnie always remembers seeing his younger twin talking to him, trying to bring him back to attention but…all he can hear is ringing. He always wakes up from those dreams with a loud gasp and heaving breaths before sobbing, finding his way to your makeshift crib and just watching you breathe. It fills Donnie with relief every damn time. He always mumbles your favorite lullaby when he watches you “ …please don’t take, my sunshine away… “

It’s funny how quickly people age, you went from an infant with a army of sponges tied to your shell to having your own battle shell made for you. Because of Donnie’s horrific dreams when you were just a baby he’s adding a float to it but…he can’t really combat a whole building. You usually hung out with April or Draxum much to your fathers and Tío Leo’s contempt. When you had gotten your shell, you immediately signed onto a patrol. It was supposedly an easy one, that was a lie. The kraang attacked the patrol. The robots crushing or decimating the crowd with its laser. You didn’t have a change to escape before a pole crushed your arm, panic rising in your chest as you kicked at the hard metal, the kraang bots laser getting closer. And eventually? It found you.

When Donnie caught wind of the attacked patrol he was expecting his daughter to be driving him up a all with all her questions but…she wasn’t there. Weird. Tuning, he saw you, your arm impaled and blood leaking from your ears. Your plastron caved in and shell ripped up. He rushed forward, falling to his knees and pulling the pole out of your arm and pulling you into his lap. You weren’t dead. You were holding on by a thread, shallow gasps filling your lungs as he shushed you and shaky sung “ You are my sunshine…my only sunshine, you make me happy, when sky’s are grey- you’ll never know dear, how much I love you…please don’t take my sunshine away.. “ Donnie seemed like he was speaking past you, to someone he thought must’ve been there….he’s never sobbed that hard, not even when his older brother died. He swore his lungs would collapse from the pressure of his screams, no one could pull him from you. His child. His Star. It took him till sunset to calm down. A hushed shaky sob leaving him as he held you again, swearing that he would be more careful. For himself, and for others.

#rottmnt #rottmnt x reader #rottmnt x you #this is all purely platonic #angst #stan younger twin leo #rottmnt raph #rottmnt mikey #rottmnt leo #rottmnt donnie

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lonelynpc · 2 months ago

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what’re some Anesthesiologist Quirks™️ that you wish showed up more in media?

i wish they included us more in media at all to be honest, the entire anaesthetics team seems to be replaced by a solo anaesthetist who doesn't do anything the whole time or just seems to be absent

as for quirks that we have, there are quite a few! the biggest is that we are generally extreme perfectionists but i'll let you be the judge!

here's some of the quirks i've noticed that i think would be cool to see in media more:

the placement of leads, cuffs, etc is really important to us and we have to think about how it impacts the entire procedure. i don't know why but a lot of people put V5 right in the middle of the xiphoid process or people will put every lead in a place where they will have to be relocated after the patient is positioned or the surgery starts. i have also seen people put BP cuffs on too loose, too tight, wrong size, wrong direction, wrong arm, wrong leg, etc.

i wrap the gas sample line around the breathing circuit to avoid tangling.

any syringe with a vasoactive drug in it has to be positioned upside down next to the rest, muscle relaxants are horizontal and above the other syringes.

my syringe labels go parallel to CCs so i can read the drug's name and the dose at the same time. this way i can also see how much i am giving someone as i do it as well. i will relabel my syringes if someone did it wrong. (a lot of people do it horizontally, it's a bit of a debate)

i double tape all ETTs. don't bring fixomull near my ETT, i only want durapore tape.

i use fixomull for IVs though and cut fun shapes out (hearts, stars, etc), if it's just a circle or square i'll probably redo it.

i hate when people remove the monitor leads and just dump the leads on the floor, especially when they get tangled up with the IV pole wheels.

always put your machine on standby between cases because leaving it just blasting oxygen with all the alarms going off is like leaving a hotel room completely trashed.

i like having prime numbers everywhere. RR of 11, 13, 17, 19, propofol gtt rate prime number, etc.*

i like having two labels on lines. for example, if a patient has an art line, i like having an art line sticker close to the bag and one at the port closest to the patient.

if there's a throat pack, i put the "THROAT PACK IN SITU" sticker on the patient's forehead and the breathing circuit. i used to work with someone who would put one on the patient's forehead and on every member of the anaesthetic team's scrub cap.

honestly, i just love stickers and labels. some people don't use them much but i use them a lot and use more than needed for Safety™.

i use more stickers on night shifts.

i put an extra bag of CSL under the bair hugger to keep it warm for when i need it.

i will tell everyone in the room to shut up during induction and emergence. nothing annoys me more than having a patient going under and having people slamming metal trays open, talking loudly or playing loud music. do it intraop or once the patient leaves. i might sound like the fun police but we need to be able to hear our patient because we need to know what's happening with them.

i'm very picky about the patient's position when going out to recovery.

i judge people who use the default vent settings (unless there was more going on with the patient like a major trauma).

we also have a lot of slang, text talk (kind of?), sayings, etc! that's a whole other thing though!

*a lot of us are weird about numbers. for some people like me, it's prime numbers. for some it's even numbers or multiples of five. for some it's just avoiding unlucky numbers.

#ask #anon ask #anaesthesia #anaesthetist #healthcare #medicine #medical #idk what other tags to add #prime numbers?#yeah prime numbers #i love them

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hers1ut · 2 years ago

Text

Secret Seduction

- Warnings: Smut, Gun play, Angst, Strap on, Alot of dirty talk, Hot angry Nicky

- Words: 1107

- Pairings: Str!pper Fem Reader X CEO!Mafia Nicky Nichols

Summary:

When losing your best friend and not seeing her until you were 20. You didn't expect her to be here at the club you worked at, You being her favourite dancer aswell. But will she remember you. Like you remember her.

Y/N's pov:

It was a Friday night and I was getting ready in my dressing room. Today is the day I'm gonna tell Nicky who I really am, but scared she'll freak out and leave me and never come back. But hopefully that doesn't happen.

Nicky doesn't know I'm actually her long lost best friend. I only realised it was her because she signed with her last name. Nichols. I always loved that name, kinda wanted to be a Nichols one day. But that would've never happened.

However she only didn't know who I am because I go by. Bunny, us dancers have to hide our identity for privacy reasons so I picked that name. Because she'd always call me that as a kid. It was a cute nickname tho, I loved it. Everytime she called me it, I'd get this weird feeling. Butterflies, I think that's what you call it.

Even my outfit was a bunny, I thought it'll be cute to match the outfit with my name. i wore a sparkly red lacey two piece, black fishnets, paired with black heels and a cute bunny tail to match and black bunny ears. I also had a mask just for that extra secrecy. My makeup was dark with a red lip to bring it out.

It was now 11:00 pm and time for me to go on stage. Slowly walking on red lights beemed in my face. As I See Red starts playing, i slowly walked over to the pole and began my dance.

Pushed close to the pole my fingers glide over the metal as my head tilts back, my fingertips sliding down my neck. Turning around i slide down the pole gliding my hands up my body lifting my hair, my eyes catch hers a smirk plastered on her lips as she leans back in her chair, eyes scanning over my body. Looking back at her lips she mouths "hot" followed along with a wink. I bit my lip back at her before sliding on to the floor, my butt proped up in the air bouncing when i hit the floor. Sliding back up off the floor i grip the pole standing up and tilting my head back again and swinging on it. As the music stops i look back at Nicky once more mouthing "find me after this" before stepping off the stage.

Walking towards my dressing room to freshen up someone grabs me, pressing their lips to mine. "get the fuck off of me" i shout pushing away the stranger. "Bunny calm down its me" Nicky spoke. "Nicky" i say with a soft voice "yeah princess" "you looked so hot out there sugar, when can i see this beautiful face of yours" she replied trying to lift off my mask. "not yet you know the rules Nicky" i laughed. "yeah i know but i like breaking the rules" her hands sliding up my curves pulling me closer to her capturing my lips in a passionate kiss. "ok ok thats enough let me go freshen up" i spoke lightly pushing her off me "ok but dont be too long, i'll wait for you sugar" smiling at her before walking into the dressing room.

I decided to change my outfit to a black version of the one i was already wearing and touched up my makeup. Heading back out i couldnt find Nicky anywhere "she went into the red private room" one of the security guards said i just nodded and walked to find her.

Arriving at the door i just walked in to see Nicky there leaned back in a chair manspread holding a bottle of vodka. "Bunny your back come here" she says while moving her finger in a 'come over here' gesture. Shutting the door behind me i slowly walk over to her sitting down on her lap i groan feeling the toy through her pants. "be a good girl and you can have it" "but what if i dont want to be good" i wine "well then i'll punish you" she smirks "oh really?" "Yeah I'll punish that pretty pussy of yours" she says sliding her hands down to my thighs gripping them. As a small moan escapes my lips.

"Now your gonna do what i say okay bunny" she whispers in my ear. "Yes" I reply "Yes what?" "Yes Nicky" i whisper "good girl" she says sending shivers down my spine. "now take that mask off for me sugar" my heart starts to race hearing them words, 'fuck' i thought to myself. She cant know who i am, this wont go well. "i- i cant, remember.." i stuttered "oh but you can baby" she spoke trying to lift the mask. "Nicky seriously i cant. You wont like me no more if i do" i say turning away. "Thats not true i'll always like you" she says grabbing my chin turning me to face her. "okay" here goes nothing. I look deep in her dark brown eyes my hand on my mask. 3.. 2.. 1. "y/n.. " she says in confusion "Nicky i can explain" she pushes me off her and takes out her gun. "Nicky please I'm sorry" "I haven't seen you for 20 years and now your a stripper care to explain y/n" i dont answer her. Fear covers my face as she comes closer holding the gun in my face "fucking answer me y/n, did you forget that i was a mafia leader baby huh?" "Nicky when I- when i saw you. i was too afraid to say something so I thought pretending to not know you was.. better" I say with my head down.

"Y/n you could've told me and not make me believe this lie" she spoke. "Do you hate me? Are you gonna kill me now?" I say as a tear falls from my eye "No I'm not gonna kill you, but I am gonna make you regret what you did. So on your knees princess" she spoke pointing the gun in a downward position pushing me down to the floor.

A/N: sorry I haven't posted in awhile i haven't had much motivation but I will try to post sometimes.

#nicky nichols #nickynicholsfanfic #natasha lyonne #natasha lyonne fan fic #fanfic #lgbtq #wlw #lesbian #smut

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stars4krios · 11 months ago

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I've recently finished TLOK & there for joined the fandom and... Did we even watch the same show???

(Very long & passionate rant under cut)

Like mf wdym Korra is the worst/weakest Avatar? It's physically not possible for her to be the weakest as the cycle goes on the Avatar spirt gets stronger so technically the weakest Avatar is Wan!! But I still want to point out the many reasons why Korra isn't the weakest or worst Avatar.

Firstly, I want to acknowledge vaid criticisms of Korra. Yes she constantly underestimated her opponents but in her defense she was severely inexperienced. She'd spent most of her life in that training facility in the south Pole and then once she got to republic city was almost immediately thrown into dealing with the equalits so she underestimated Amon due to lack of experience. She was then manipulated by her uncle so can you really blame her for not realizing he was evil till it was too late? THAT WAS HER FAMILY!!

Anyways, Korra has faults like every Avatar but she also has feats that you all seem to forget/over look!

My main example and my favorite to bring up in this argument is; Korra on harmonic convergence after having Raava RIPPED from her (need to emphasize the fact that Korra did not give Raava up willing like some of y'all like to think, she fought to keep Raava with her and was devastated when she lost her and the past lives. She didn't give it up willingly) meaning she didn't have the Avatar state and this fight was just her pure strength against UnaVaatu.

KORRA BEAT HIS ASS WITH NO BENDING, NO AVATAR STATE, NO PAST LIVES, NO NOTHING. KORRA FIST FOUGHT THE SPIRIT OF CHAOS AND DARKNESS AND WON!

But I have more examples of how strong she truly is (there is no order to them lol).

Korra broke out of Blood bending without the Avatar state (something Aang couldn't do).

She had control over 3/4 of the elements at like five, and the only reason it took so long to master Air bending (which still only took like a few months) was because she didn't get a teacher until she was 17!

Korra fought one of the strongest air benders WHILE DYING, like ppl forget she was slowly dying during that fight. She was weakened and still won.

Now let's talk about another one of my favorite feats of hers, REDIRECTING THE AVATAR UNIVERSE VERSION OF A FUCKING NUKE. Like it was so powerful it ripped open a whole in space & time, creating a new spirit portal and she redirected it and wasn't even fazed. Like I'm 90% sure she didn't even break a sweat!

She's the first Avatar to metal bend, ik it's likely because she's the first Avatar to exist when metal bending was more common but she was metal bending in like a week! That's not something anyone can do!!

Another reason I have is technically not about her strength but more about the strength of Korra's version of Raava. When Korra re-fused with Raava, the Raava spirit was bigger than it was when it was ripped from her and alot bigger than the version Wan fused with meaning Korra has a stronger version of Raava than previous Avatars making her inherently stronger than them. When Korra re-fused with Raava, she was big enough for Korra to ride on her but when Wan fused with her Raava fit in a tea pot.

Now time to defend Korra's loses!

・Korra lost against Amon because she was inexperienced, she'd spent most of her life away from the world and wasn't prepared to fight a master water bender.

・Korra lost Raava because it was supposed to happen. Ever Harmonic convergence Raava and Vaatu fight so it's likely that ever 10,000 year's the avatar cycle will restart, also did we not watch Korra be absolutely DEVASTATED that she lost her connect with the last Avatars? Like she spends most of the time during the 4th season wishing she could talk to Aang!

・Honestly I don't even know if Korra won or lost against Zaheer but I do know she was slowly dying during the fight. She was no where near her full strength! Also, the red lotus was actively surprised at how well Korra fought against going into the Avatar state just showing her control over it.

・Korra got her ass beat in that ring in the earth kingdom because she was rusty and GOING THROUGH IT! Like she hadn't fought in 3 year's and she was still working through her turama, it's the samething when she lost to old Toph, she was rusty, still being affected by the poison, and traumatized. There was on way she was going to win in that state

・ Korra lost in her 1v1 with Kuvira because she was rusty, she hadn't fought in 3 year's and you expect her to be as good as she was before her hiatus? Bitch please! Korra quite literally goes on to go toe to toe with Kuvira at the end of the season when she'd worked through her rust.

In conclusion, Korra isn't the wort or weakest Avatar your just over looking her feats and dumbing her down because you can't except your fav isn't as strong as you think. She was ment to restart the Avatar cycle, and she also isn't even in her prime! She's 17 in the first season, 18 in season 2 & 3, and 21 in the last season, Korra is still at the beginning of her career as an Avatar. She's only going to get stronger.

Also no, I'm not a Korra glazer. She's not even my favorite Avatar, it's Kiyoshi.

#legend of korra #avatar korra #korra #tlok korra #tlok #defending korra #i think this fandom is just blind tbh #raava #avatar the last airbender #netflix avatar #this is the longest post I've ever made #im very passionate about this #you don't understand #how important this is to me #sorry for any typos #i was being silly #then it got out of hand #sorry for any mistakes

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cult-of-the-rizz · 2 years ago

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archiving my thesis on the significance of the pentacle in cotl that I sent at approximately 1:04am to my bestie because I have officially lost it

Pentacle symbolism is earth, water, air, fire and spirit, with spirit at the top as a "mind over matter" sort of meaning

leshy as the bishop of chaos (and unity) is the element of earth and not just bc his realm is darkwood. Earth is responsible for creation and destruction, wherein the life it creates operates in unity with one another to survive. Destructive phases bring about chaos and uncertainty. But the big link between all of this is that it takes little.to no provocation for these phases to change. Extinctions, evolutions, all these things happen seemingly randomly as they occur. Yes there are patterns to study after the fact but in the moment, it's chaotic. Also side point but darkwood looks as grotesque and metal as it does because leshy can't see. How would he know there's sacrifices if he can't see it? Smell baby. He's gotta rely on his other senses and stake poles with entrails on them feel like pretty good signals.

kallamar as bishop of pestilence (and health) is the element of water, ofc, but because water is the element that heals or ails. Clean water heals and nurtures life while putrid water infects and kills. It cleans and contaminates. Also, kallamar's vanity isn't misplaced either because water is the most beautiful element. Crystal clear waters, calming sounds of waves, this is the pinnacle of nature's beauty.

heket as bishop of famine (and feast) is air and man I feel some kind way about this. Through wind the seeds of next harvest are given and when the wind is barren so is the land. I think it's also important to point out that mushrooms are one of the biggest examples of plant life that spreads through spores in the wind, and anura is covered in them.

that leaves shamura as the element of fire as bishop of war (and peace). Fire is of course one of the most destructive elements, so that makes an easy link with war. But it was also one of man's first inventions, where we continue to sleep, eat, learn, sing, dance at its side. Hearthfire has long been a symbol of home, where warriors lay their head to rest peacefully. And as the oldest bishop, the idea of home and family isn't too foreign of a concept to link to shamura. Of course, fire is also absolute in its destruction. It burns through everything and leaves nothing in the same way war does.

The four elements are all physical, which is why the fifth is entirely intangible. Spirit exists within and outside the physical realm, which narinder certainly fucking does. No matter how much happens to the lamb's physical body, he can bring them back because their spirit isn't dead.

The significance of the pentacle being upsidedown is exactly in reference to the bishops imprisoning narinder below, oppressing the spirit in favor of the elements. The order of the world is upturned, backwards, and you as the lamb are crusading to correct the flow and order of the world.

#thabk you for uuuuh reading me ted talking #cult of the lamb #cotl leshy #cotl kallamar #cotl narinder #cotl heket #cotl shamura

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musclesaber · 1 year ago

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Merry ChristMASS Chapter 4: The Gift That Keeps on Giving

[Story Gallery] [First Part] [Previous Part]

Our final two competitors fight it out for the title of Santa Claus. We'll see the North Pole survives the competition. This story was originally based an old comic of @greggrth's on Twitter

David led the remaining men down a long hallway. All of the others were utterly confused about what they just saw in front of them. Each of them wondering what possible fantasy Bruno must’ve had in order for him to emerge a giant with another unknown giant on his arm. They all approached a large metallic door.

“Excuse me David. You never mentioned what our final task would be,” said Vincent. David opened the doors to the outside where they began walking in the snow again.

“Your final task will determine how well you can perform the real duty of Santa Claus. It might come as a bit of a surprise to you. What most people don’t understand is the amount of cookies you’ll need to eat as Santa. This will test how much of this sugary sweet treat you can stomach.”

“Bring it. I’ve loved all the cookies you’ve served so far,” said Rafael.

“Yes, but that has only been a few cookies. Santa must consume millions of cookies in one night. We’ve managed to solve most of the problems with magic, however this has not been one of them,” said David.

“Can’t you just throw the cookies away?” asked Vincent.

“We’ve tried. It’s never gone well. The first year we tried it, the following year was World War II. Then we tried it again to test if it was a fluke or not and then the Vietnam War happened. It’s just bad luck not to,” said Joseph.

“What if you were to get rid of them with magic. with magic?” asked Rafael.

“My magic is very good at creating things, hence why I am one of the biggest givers of all time. It is not engineered to destroy,” said David. “And this is why they all must be eaten. Remember the story I told you about a while ago? How Santa nearly blew up? That’s what happens when someone eats millions of cookies in an instant.” The men walked up to a cottage and entered. There they found a plate of fresh cookies waiting for them.

“This will be a test of stamina, not speed. But I wanted to make things a bit more interesting. Once the plate in front of you has been eaten, many more plates of cookies will spawn all over the North Pole. But there will be a plate with special properties to it once you start eating,” said David.

“What kind of properties?” asked Rafael.

“You will have to figure that out for yourself,” said David.

“How will a winner be crowned?” asked Vincent.

“David and I will be keeping track of how many cookies are eaten by the two of you. The contest will be over when neither of you can stomach another cookie. After that, David and I will crown a winner based on the number of cookies you each ate.” said Joseph.

“You may begin eating when ready,” said David and with a snap, him and Joseph were gone.

The two men sat down at the table in front of them facing each other. Rafael was the first one to reach for a cookie. “Well cheers I guess,” said Rafael.

“Cheers,” responded Vincent as he also grabbed a cookie. The two bit into the cookies and let out an “Mmm” in unison.

“These are so good!” said Rafael. He shoved the rest of the cookie into his mouth and grabbed at the pile again for more. “Are you sure you don’t want more?” asked Rafael in between bites.

“David said this contest was about stamina, not speed,” said Vincent.

“Suit yourself URP” Rafael burped as he rubbed his belly. As Vincent finished his first cookie, his eyes were brought to Rafael when he heard a low rumble coming from the man’s stomach. Suddenly, Vincent saw Rafael’s body began to inflate. The sleeves around his arms seemed to tighten, the buttons on his shirt tightened from his large pecs, his shirt riding up and revealing a large gut that pressed into the table.

“What the hell?!?” yelled Vincent as he saw the man gain about 50 pounds in a few seconds.

“Huh?” Rafael looked down at his body. He saw nothing but his bloated tits when he looked down. “Woah,” said Rafael in awe. He lifted his arm up and flexed it. He watched the strains of fabric be pushed to their limit as the ball of muscle grew.

“Dude…what did you do? You got-”

“Big.” Rafael continued to admire his body. Putting his hand under his newly grown pecs and feeling the weight of them. “I’m huge!” Rafael stopped groping himself and locked eyes with the table.

“But how? Is David doing some kind of magic on you?” Rafael reached his hand out to the table and grabbed a handful of cookies and shoved them into his mouth.

“Bigger,” was all that left his lips when another loud groan was heard from the man’s stomach. Rafael grew much quicker this time. His head slowly rose up as he smiled feeling the growth spread. His gut grew out onto the table. Inflating quickly like a yoga ball. A loud “POP” rang through the air as his top button flew across the room. One by one, each button revealed more and more the man’s glorious chest. Each pec reaching the size of suitcases and continued to gain pounds. Another loud sound was heard by the men as Rafael’s fat ass ripped apart his pajamas. His ass and thunder thighs shredding the fabric like a piece of paper. With his pants gone, Rafael’s cock was freed, and it flopped down onto the floor under the man’s rounded belly. The beast lengthening under the table toward Vincent as it was now well over 6 feet long and thicker than .

Seeing that the giant was growing closer to him, Vincent stood up from his seat and backed away from him. “Rafael! You need to stop growing!” As his transformation continued, Vincent heard a loud crash as the giant’s ass hit the ground. The chair that had been supporting him had snapped like a twig under his growing weight.

“So big,” said Rafael as his transformation came to a halt. He was sitting on the ground and was a head taller than Vincent. His own head just inches away from the ceiling of the cottage they were in. “I need more!” said Rafael as he reached for the tray of cookies.

“More?! Rafael you can’t be serious? You can’t even fit through the door!” screamed Vincent as he tried to grab the cookies before Rafael could, but it was too late.

“Vincent, I’ve always wanted to be bigger.” Rafael grabbed the cookies and threw them all back into his open mouth. “Besides, David can fix whatever we do with magic.” With a gulp, the cookies hit the behemoths belly. “Yes! More!” Rafael began to grow again. Every inch of him packing on 50 pounds per second. His stomach charging forward toward Vincent like a locomotive as his head hit the ceiling. Under his impressive stomach, Rafael’s cock also lurched forward. Pressing Vincent into the wall behind him.

“Rafael! Please stop and let me get out!” Vincent felt the now 9-foot-long cock continue to pulse with growth as the weight pushed against him.

“Too late little guy,” said Rafael as his head started cracking the ceiling. Vincent looked up for a moment as the cock pinned him to the wall only to see a ballooning belly be pushed into his face.

From the outside of the house, the walls seemed to bulge out in every direction. The first sight of Rafael’s body was his head poking out of the ceiling of the cottage. Next his massive belly and cock took their toll on the wall and they spilled out onto the snow outside. Then there was Rafael’s ass that had been steadily growing behind him. It pushed through the walls both behind it and on its side. Lastly to burst free were his arms. On each side of the cottage, his arms broke down the walls and brought themselves into a double bicep flex. Finally the entire cottage was brought down as his pecs broke the remaining parts of the roof that hadn’t been destroyed by his head and shoulders bursting through.

Holding tightly to the head of Rafael’s cock, Vincent fell out onto the snow as the growing dick grew. He shimmied his way out from under the behemoth and stood up to see Rafael. He was a true giant. Sitting down, he was easily two stories tall, if not three, and looked like he weighed two tons. A lot of that weight was in his fat gut. The orb of a belly was far taller than Vincent was. It was like he had swallowed a car.

“Haha, now we’re talking,” laughed Rafael as he groped his newly grown body. “I’m so massive. But I want to be bigger.” Vincent heard the giant’s deep voice and remembered the other cookies that David had put out across the North Pole. In an instant, Rafael’s big body got up from the ground and began sprinting and looking down for more plates of cookies. “I need MORE!”

“I’ve gotta find another plate of cookies before he gets any bigger.” Vincent started running toward the Naughty and Nice building he was just in. Rushing in and looking around for a platter of cookies. Seeing nothing, he ran out another door and sitting just outside the door on a pedestal was an even bigger plate of cookies. “Yes! I beat him here!” said Vincent as he began shoveling cookie after cookie into his mouth.

“Hey Vincent!” came a shout from the distant. Vincent turned his head as he continued chewing on cookies.

“Oh no! He found me!” Vincent grabbed the plate of cookies and ran back into the building. Thunderous steps shook everything around Vincent as Rafael descended his huge body onto the building. Vincent saw his massive arm reach in through the door, but he was too far away for him to reach. Vincent still felt worried that Rafael could do what he did to that cottage and tear down this building to get to the cookies.

“Come on now Vincent. Christmas is about giving. So give me some of those cookies!” yelled Rafael as he looked inside the building.

“Why aren’t they working?” cried Vincent as he polished the last cookie off the plate. Right after the words left his mouth, he heard his stomach let out a low growl. “Oh.” Vincent’s belly quickly inflated inside his Christmas onesie. Rips forming all over his body as pounds were added on every second.

“This,” Vincent’s pecs ripped through the neck hole.

“Feels,” His ass burst apart the seat of his pants.

“So,” His cock ripping out the front of his pants with a nice pair of balls to match.

“Incredible!” His head skyrocketing toward the ceiling.

“Vincent, what’s going on in there?” asked Rafael from outside the door. He couldn’t see clearly into the room, but suddenly his nose was met with a wall of flesh.

“Bigger.” Rafael backed away from the door and saw cracks forming in the walls.

“Bigger!” Vincent’s cock lurched out the doorway and hit Rafael. Landing him on his ass.

“BIGGER!” Vincent’s entire body broke out from the building, leaving it in ruins. Rafael looked up at the new giant that Vincent had become. From the bottom up, Vincent’s cock was bigger than a house with balls bigger than cars. His hairless gut resembled the size of blimp and above it sat two massive slabs of meat known as pecs. Each one was bigger than 18-wheelers and twice as thick. Vincent’s head was now higher than any building around them in the North Pole.

“He’s massive!” Rafael got up out of the snow and reveled in Vincent’s size.

“Haha. I see why you were so eager to get your hands on more of those cookies. The feeling you get when you grow is indescribable,” said Vincent as he brought one of his biceps up and flexed. The ball of muscle growing bigger than Vincent’s own head.

“I’ve gotta find more,” said Rafael under his breath. He looked around and saw the workshop they had just been in for the train exercise. Scrambling to get there, he ripped off the roof to see another tray of cookies, this time on a golden plate.

“Hey! You get back here!” yelled Vincent as he ran towards Rafael. Rafael looked back and saw Vincent lunging toward him. He turned his back to Vincent and swallowed all of the cookies in one gulp. He threw the plate into the snow as he felt a new transformation coming on. “Gotcha!” said Vincent as he grabbed onto Rafael’s smaller shoulders.

“Not for long,” said Rafael. He straightened his back as his body sored into the sky. Rafael’s ass was the only thing that Vincent could see growing. The already fat ass quickly bulged back into Vincent’s cock. Vincent instantly felt his cock harden as Rafael’s ass plumped up bigger and bigger. He couldn’t resist and shoved his cock head into Rafael’s ass.

“Fuck” yelled Rafael as Vincent penetrated him. His own cock getting hard as he felt his ass grow further back into the cock.

“I’m sorry man. I’ve been eying your ass ever since we got here and the way it was growing, I had to fuck it,” said Vincent as he started to thrust more of his cock into Rafael’s welcoming hole.

“You’re good. I have to admit that I did think you were cute when we appeared in the North Pole.”

“And now?”

“Now? You’re fucking hot!” Rafael’s transformation seemed to subside as the two of them got started full on fucking. Rafael had stopped at just a bit bigger than Vincent, but he didn’t mind. Vincent’s 20-foot-long cock was big enough to satisfy the 60-foot-tall man. Vincent picked up the pace as he thrusted harder and harder into Rafael. The indent of his cock being seen bulging out of Rafael’s stomach.

In the midst of their hot sex session, Vincent looked down and saw the plate of cookies that Rafael had tossed to the side from his previous growth spurt. It was now full! Vincent smirked as he leaned over, grabbed the plate of cookies, poured them into his free hand, and fed them to Rafael as he moaned.

“Gobble these up for me.” Rafael didn’t need to be told twice. He swallowed the cookies with ease and smiled as he heard a familiar gurgle from his stomach. Rafael again shot up in height.

“Bigger!” shouted Rafael. His body bulged out in all directions. His gut plowed forward destroying the toy factory below as his ass bubbled out behind him. Vincent was met with Rafael’s ass growing tighter and tighter on his cock. Vincent’s thrusting became animalistic as he grabbed Rafael’s fat ass cheeks in his hands. Massaging and squeezing them, Vincent couldn’t hold the flood gates back any longer.

“Fuuuuuuuuuck!” cried Vincent as his balls seized up and cum filled Rafael’s already enormous belly. Vincent’s torrent of jizz seemed endless as Rafael continued to grow both from the cookies and the slow filling of his guts. Rafael felt Vincent’s jets start to lighten up as his growth tapered off.

“That’s all you got pretty boy?” challenged Rafael. Vincent himself felt his balls beginning to empty as the cum shots began to slow down. He looked down at his hand and saw the plate. It was full of cookies again.

“It refills itself!” A devilish grin sprouted on Vincent’s face. He threw his hand back into his mouth, swallowing the plate and all. “Be ready for the fucking of a century big guy!” Vincent heard a gurgle from his stomach and resumed ramming his cock into Rafael.

Rafael felt Vincent’s cock begin thrusting into him again, with more passion than ever. Each thrust felt like Vincent was going deeper and deeper every time. “Now you’re talking!” He felt Vincent’s cum shots regain their previous strength. Rafael’s belly now growing much faster as cum flooded his system. Everything took a turn when Rafael saw the imprint of Vincent’s dick in his already massive stomach. Each thrust pushing out further and further as he continued to be filled up like a cum balloon.

“What are you gonna do now? Vincent just ate the magic plate and he’s growing out of control,” said Joseph. David and Joseph were watching the entire display go down from a couch. Each of them naked and jerking each other’s cocks

“Oh don’t you worry about that. In a little bit, Vincent’s cum should be meeting the cookies that Rafael ate,” said David

“Why does that matter?” asked Rafael.

“It’s milk. There will always be the combo of milk and cookies, not just cookies. When Vincent’s “milk” soaks the cookies, they reactivate themselves. So as long as Vincent keeps cumming, Rafael will grow with him,” replied David as he jerked his cock. “Now watch. I think things are about to get good.”

Vincent had begun growing and hadn't stopped. Merely muttering “More” and “Bigger” as his body expands across the North Pole. The pair feel the ice cracking below them as their weight becomes too much even for the ice to handle them. Rafael meanwhile is becoming more and more ball like while Vincent’s jizz seems unending.

“Vincent! You’ve gotta pull out! I feel like I’m gonna explode!” yelled Rafael as his limbs disappeared into his growing belly. Vincent in such a faze of lust could barely register that Rafael was talking. It was only when the ice below them broke when Vincent came back to reality.

“Huh? Oh yeah. Sorry little guy.” Vincent pulled his growing cock out from Rafael’s ass and spun the orbs around so that he could see his face. “I got a little carried away. Guess that can happen when you’re the biggest being in existence” Vincent’s cock seemed to stop shooting jets as the cold water below him cooled him off. His body continued to grow away from the Rafael ball. His body crushing mountains all over the North Pole without him even knowing. Vincent picked up Rafael as he shrank below him. Becoming lighter and lighter in his hands. “How do you feel?” asked Vincent as he put Rafael in one of his palms.

“Like I could explode. I don’t feel so- UUUUUUUUUUUUUUURRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRPPPPPPPPPPPPPPPPPP” Rafael let out the biggest burp anyone had ever heard. It could be felt at all corners of the globe, but then it started. He was growing and he was growing fast. He quickly outgrew the giant’s hand and he landed in the Northern Atlantic Ocean. Sending tidal waves out from his body. Rafael’s body regaining its shape as his limbs reappear and quickly approaching Vincent’s size.

“Who were you calling little guy, little guy?” said Rafael as his size surpassed Vincent’s. Each of their bodies effortlessly crushing the Northern Hemisphere. Unaware of their own size, the two resumed their fucking. Both growing in spurts as they outgrew the whole Earth.

“Ouch!” cried Vincent as something struck the back of his head. He looked back and saw that he had bonked his head on the moon. Grabbing the satellite in his hand and watching it shrink in his hands as the two men watched the Earth fade away. One by one, every planet passed by the two planet sized men.

“How much bigger are we gonna get?” asked Rafael as Vincent continued to cum inside him.

“I don’t know, but I don’t care! Keep it going! I want to be bigger than the whole galaxy!” yelled Vincent as another spurt came over him. Rafael simply smiled as he accepted his new reality of being pumped full of cum just for his body to break it down and make him grow bigger. It’s gonna be a happy life.

#gay #growth #musclegrowth #giant #getting taller #size difference #macro #hyper

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