#and hauling all the equipment out and back IN

[darkwood-sleddog]

them: what's your workout?

me: dogs.

[munson-blurbs]

Summary: A missing key and a terrible storm leaves you and Eddie stranded in the back of his van. What ever shall you do to pass the time?

WC: 1.6k

Warnings: smut (18+ only, minors DNI), unprotected p in v, friends-to-lovers, kinda sub!Eddie but he's mostly just a simp.

A/N: This will be my last 1k+ fic for a while, as I'll be focusing on writing blurbs for Corroded Coffin Fest throughout July. Why not go out with a (literal) bang?

--

“What do you mean, you forgot your key?”

Your eyes widen as Eddie flicks through the keyring. He shakes his head in frustration, pinching the bridge of his nose between his thumb and forefinger. 

“I was switching keychains…I thought I put them all back…” He huffs out an irritated laugh. “Must’ve left the house key on the table.”

A warm breeze siphons through the humidity, gray clouds rolling in. August in Hawkins is unbearable as it is, and the sticky heat before a storm is downright brutal. 

Eddie jiggles the doorknob once more, to no avail. “Jesus H. Christ.” He rakes a hand through his curls, frizzy and knotted from the hot weather. “Back to your place?”

Before you can agree, lightning flashes and is swiftly accompanied by booming thunder. Your heart leaps into your throat and you jump. 

“Scared the shit outta me, too.” Eddie laughs nervously. A fat raindrop falls from the sky and plops on his nose, rolling off of the side. Another lands on his cheek, then one lands on yours, until rain pours in a steady sheet. 

Eddie grabs your hand, tugging you off of the trailer’s front steps and pulling you back to his van. He flings open the back doors, always kept unlocked unless he’s hauling concert equipment. 

“Get in,” he orders, and you follow his instructions without a second though. Rainwater pools in the grass, dirt turning into mud beneath your sneakered feet. His hands grip your waist, steadying you as you climb up. “We’ll wait in here until the rain dies down.”

You ignore the lingering flames that his touch leaves behind and the way he’s now sitting right next to you. “It’s like a monsoon out there.”

“Yeah.”

The two of you sit in silence for a few moments, listening to the storm raging outside. Raindrops sound like drum beats against the van’s exterior, a song you’ve heard many times before. 

A chill sweeps over you, reminding you of the wet cotton of your t-shirt clinging to your torso. Your miniskirt hasn't fared much better, the light-washed denim now dark. 

“Do you have a blanket back here?”

Eddie shakes his head. “That’s, like, the one thing I don’t have.” He gestures to the cluttered space. 

You offer a half-smile. “S’okay.” Your palms glide up and down your goosebump-covered arms. 

He notices this, frowning. “Here,” he says. “My hands are bigger than yours.” He clumsily positions himself behind you, knees knocking against your sides. His grasp is strong but gentle, hands warming you up from the outside in. 

“Thanks.” He’s close—so close—yet it feels like he’s never been farther away. Without thinking, you scoot back until your ass brushes against his fly. 

“Sh-Shit.” Eddie inhales sharply. “That’s, um, dangerous territory.”

You raise your brows, though he can’t see them. “And rubbing my arms isn’t?”

Eddie peers around, chin resting on your shoulder. He looks up and says, “it doesn’t turn you on though.”

“Says who?”

He breathes out a laugh, stopping immediately when he realizes that you’re not joking. His voice is barely above a whisper when he asks, “This…this turns you on?” 

You nod, suddenly shy at the admission. 

“How about this?” Eddie’s lips press against the back of your neck. One calloused hand reaches for the collar of your shirt, tugging it down to expose your shoulder. He kisses that, too, his teeth grazing your sensitive skin. 

“Mhm.”

“Fuck.” His other hand snakes around your throat, holding it firmly but being careful not to squeeze. “We shouldn’t do this. S’gonna ruin our friendship.”

Gently, you turn to face him, legs straddling his waist. “I’m fine with ruining it if you are.” The words are murmured, muffled by the proximity of your lips and his. 

Eddie swallows, Adam's apple bobbing with trepidation. “Just want you. Fuck, I want you so bad.”

He grabs your ass and pulls you closer until you can feel his erection straining against his jeans. You roll your hips, eliciting a moan from him. 

“You—I gotta—” He unbuckles his belt, tossing it amongst the van’s clutter. “I’m so hard it hurts.”

You reach for his pants button, but he shakes his head. “I’ll bust if you touch me,” he sheepishly explains. 

He takes off his own pants, which is much more of a chore than usual because of the rain-soaked fabric. He doesn’t bother to remove his Hellfire shirt, but you hardly notice. His tented boxers hold your focus, and despite his warning, you strip them away. You need to see what’s beneath them. 

The sight before you is nothing less than glorious. 

His cock is hard, curved slightly left, the pinkish-purple tip already leaking pre-cum. Your thumb traces the vein that runs along the shaft, and he shivers at your touch. When he looks at you with wide, wet eyes, you nearly melt on the spot.

“Is…Is this what you want?” Eddie’s voice is so soft you can barely hear it above the pouring rain. “Because…I want this so bad. So fucking bad.” Pleading, desperate, bordering on pathetic. Everything he showed outwardly, you felt on the inside.

You lean in, capturing his lips and pouring all of your desire into one searing kiss. “Don’t just want it. Need it. Need you,” you reassure him, feeling his length twitch against you. Taking it in your hand, you move your panties out of the way and rub the head against your clit. Every nudge sends a wave of pleasure crashing through your body. “Mmmph, please, please.”

Eddie wraps his hand around yours, guiding his cock into you. “There you go,” he whispers, hissing as you sink down. He fills you completely, bringing a pinch of pain as you adjust to him. “You okay?”

“Mhm. M-More than okay.” You grip his shoulders, curling your fingers into the shirt’s cotton fabric.  Moving your hips, you work him deeper until he’s bottomed out, sheathed within you down to the curls at his base. 

Everything is Eddie, and it feels so good. 

“Can’t believe I’m inside you.” He tries to kiss you, the action hindered by a small laugh. “I’m actually—we’re actually doing this. Fuck, you feel so good!” The last sentence is a growl, raw and primal. 

You hold on to him, knees scraping against the van’s worn carpet as your movements find their rhythm. There’s no more time for self-control. Only Eddie, his hips bucking to meet your core. 

“Might…might not last long,” he admits, swiping at a bead of sweat dripping down his temple. “You’re even better than my fantasies. Never knew you’d feel this f-fucking warm. Tight. Like you’re m-made for me.”

“Maybe I am.” You swoop down to suck on his neck. “Maybe I am made for you, and I’ve been waiting for you to realize it.”

Eddie groans, throwing his head back and exposing more of his neck, which you dutifully continue marking. His thoughts are clouded by lust; neither of you speak for a while, the only noises are moans and the van squeaking on its axles. 

“It’s always you.”

Your eyes meet his. “What?”

“In my fantasies. It’s always you. Every time I jerk off, I imagine your hands, your mouth, your perfect pussy—”

“Eddie.” His name is barely a breath. You clench around him just as he kisses you, and his teeth sink into your lower lip. It’s not hard enough to draw blood, but it produces a twinge of pain that has you skyrocketing towards climax. “Yes, yes, yes!”

He grabs your hips harshly, keeping you flush against him. The denim waistband of your skirt digs into your skin but you don’t care. Nothing matters, only Eddie, Eddie, Eddie…

“I’m coming. Fuck, I’m coming.” He thrusts upwards in short, punctuated strokes, heaving as he spills into you. 

The two of you stay like that for a few moments, catching your breath and processing what just happened. You confessed that Eddie’s touch turned you on, you rode him in the back of his van, and then he confessed that he thinks about you when he touches himself. 

Oh, and he gave you an earth-shattering orgasm. 

As if reading your mind, Eddie says softly, “you came…right? Because if you didn’t, I can—”

“Yeah.” You can’t help but giggle, silencing him with a kiss. “I definitely came.”

His chest sags with relief. “Good. Me, too. I mean, obviously. It’s right…” He withdraws, cock softening, his cum trickling down your thigh. “Holy fucking shit.” 

There’s no masking his grin, visible through the t-shirt’s thin fabric as he pulls it over his head. With a careful touch, he wipes away his mess. 

“I think I owe you a new shirt.”

“Nah.” He shakes his head, tossing the shirt aside. “I have a million of these. Not the first time one’s been, uh, stained.”

Eddie’s cheeks turn crimson at his admission. He averts his gaze from you, bringing his attention to the foggy window. The condensation squeaks under his forefinger as he draws a smiley face through it. 

“What do you wanna do till my uncle gets home?”

You, you think, but the last thing you need is for Wayne to find the van a-rockin’. “Maybe I could hear more about those fantasies of yours? And I could tell you some of mine?”

Eddie looks back at you, his spent cock still managing a small twitch. “Mmm.” His lips find your throat, sending vibrations through you when he speaks. One hand snakes between your bodies, his middle finger landing on your clit. He makes small, deliberate circles as he murmurs.

“Ladies first.”

--

[devil-in-hiding]

Ya know, I was thinking of farmer!reader and how she's been running a farm for years by herself and that takes strength! She would definitely have some muscles, but not obvious/noticable ones. And the boys, for all their beefy-ness, don't have the kind of muscles one needs for farm work. So I'm imagining the boys straining their muscles and sweating like crazy while hauling hay, and then farmer!reader strolls in, grabs a bale of hay and waltzes out like it weighs nothing. Which wins the boys over that much more, of course!

yes yes yes yes yes this because yes

i dunno if yall have ever tried to lift barn equipment or even just bags of feed, those things are HEAVY

the guys just trying to simply empty the truck for reader after one of your trips to town, and you watch, arms crossed and brow raised as these boys grunt and groan pulling out the animal feed and the lumber you picked up (the guys wanna build something 👀👀)

and when you see Gaz’s face pinch up the way it does when he over exerts himself, you march over, shooing them away from the bed of the truck

“are the four of you TRYING to throw your backs out? good lord.” You huff, planting your feet before hauling a bag of the goat feed over your shoulder

and then another one

and it gives the boys a chance to realise how defined your back and shoulders muscles are, watching the way your arms flex ever so slightly as you adjust the bags, tossing a look at them over your shoulder

“why don’t yall carry the rest of the groceries in for me? i got this.”

all four are kicking their feet and BLUSHING

[phantomrose96]

Prometheus

content warnings: horror. body horror. ghost show can have a little existential horror, as a treat! :)

...

Tucker and Danny sat as silhouettes in the Foley attic rec-room.

The ghoulish light of the television pinned their shadows against the back wall, pulsing in and out like fireflies at each flash of the screen. It left their backs drenched in darkness, and it made monoliths of the old furniture and piled-high boxes that wrapped the perimeter of the attic. Drafty air whistled through the gaps in the insulation. Plicks and flicks of moths beat in tone against the light of the television where the seal of the attic window failed to keep them out. Danny hounded the controller in his hands, clackering with each frenetic beat of his thumb while he mashed his buttons and leaned his full bodyweight into the assault he wrought, virtually until--

“BOOM!! Headshot!” Danny yelled with a pump of his fist. From his nonexistent peripheral vision, he could not see the way Tucker would not look at him.

“Come on, man,” Tucker said.

“Get it?” Danny asked.

“Dude, come on, like… Maybe don’t.”

Danny let out a disappointed huff of air from his nostril, spirits dampened. The wayward glow of his eye settled back on the screen: Victory blazoned across his split of the screen. You Died pulsed on Tucker’s. Danny mashed the rematch option. “Maybe get good then,” Danny said, “and then you get to make the bad puns.”

“Sorry man look I’m just—tired okay?”

“Yeah I know—”

“You can be goofy about it tomorrow—”

“I know—”

“I promise it’ll be hilarious then just—”

“Okay okay, I get it. I’ll save the jokes—”

“How much longer?”

“Hmm?”

Danny looked, and Tucker was looking now too, and it was taking all concentrated will on Tucker’s face to keep looking.

“How much longer until you’re like… You know.”

4am chimed from the grandfather clock stowed in the Foley attic. The ghostly sheen of the television splashed bright and pallid across the right side of Tucker’s face, as he stared at Danny. And it splashed bright across the left side of Danny’s face, which was the only side of Danny’s face remaining.

“I don’t know like… maybe 3 more hours, I think?” A lisp whistled from the absent flesh of his jawbone.

Tucker watched his lips. And his eyes drifted to the shadow carved dark and empty in the socket that could no longer see him, a merciful concealment of where skin turned to raw exposed flesh turned to bone.

Tucker looked forward again, and he mashed his thumbs into his own controller. Danny’s character’s skull exploded into a cloud of meat-rain before Danny had the chance to notice the match resume.

“Fine. I can do 3 more hours,” Tucker said. “And start watching your head.”

…

It wasn’t until the camping trip 4 months ago that Danny knew anything was strange.

It was a yearly Fenton tradition, which Danny tolerated and Jazz dreaded, to haul the four of them and the RV out into some swampy campground 3 hours from home. They’d roll in roaring, RV stuffed to the brim with wilderness equipment and enough mechanical monstrosities to scare away all actual wildlife. All except for the fish, who had the disadvantage of not seeing the mechanical affront to God parked with questionable legality on the campgrounds.

This year, Danny had decided he was embracing it. Because for the first time, sitting grubby and wet in the mud for 3 days sounded much nicer than his typical weekend plans, which was mainly getting his ass kicked by ghosts. He’d flagged down Valerie a week ahead of time to tell her, between gunshots, that he’d be absent for those 3 days. Valerie had taken equal offence at the request that she pick up Phantom’s slack, and the implication that she wasn’t already doing that.

But it meant the ghosts were covered for the weekend, and it meant Danny was free to do nothing more exciting than sit in the mud, which was all well and good enough for Danny. Although his hopes of leaving the weekend with the same number of scars he started with were dashed by hour 5. It was his own fault too. Jack had insisted Danny gut the fish Jack caught via a blast of the Fenton Disintegrator to the lake (unconventional, not even a fishing device, a ghost weapon he and Maddie were fine-tuning. A ranger came and yelled at them about it.) And while distracted by his parents getting told off for being menaces, Danny miscalculated the slipperiness of both fish and knife.

Luckily the RV was, among many many things, a hospital on wheels, and Jazz had quit sulking long enough to take a morbid fascination in cleaning Danny’s palm out with antiseptic that burned like acid and bandaging up his palm. For dinner that night, Danny ate his open-flame grilled fish with a little more prejudice than usual.

By Saturday, his hand hadn’t healed. Nor by Sunday. And on Sunday evening while Maddie and Jack busied themselves with packing up the tent they’d both invented and yet struggled to collapse back into its box, Danny flagged Jazz with quiet urgency.

“I think there’s something wrong with my hand.”

“Wrong how?”

“Infected, maybe.”

Jazz knit her brow in concern. “It looked fine this morning,” she muttered as she pulled Danny down onto the stump beside her and flipped open the First Aid kit latch. She unraveled Danny’s bandage layer by layer, and the concerned knit to her brow loosened to confusion.

“It looks fine. It’s barely even red.”

Danny snatched his hand back. “Yeah, and it’s barely healed at all.”

“I mean, it’s healed a little bit.”

“Yeah but. Barely.”

“It looks pretty normal.”

“Jazz my day-job is getting whacked with ghost machetes,” Danny said, tone growing a little tense at Jazz’s lack of concern. “I know how quickly cuts are supposed to heal.”

“And how quickly is that?”

“I mean. It depends. But like a day.”

“A day?”

“Or maybe 25 hours, I guess.”

“Danny, you cut yourself pretty deep.”

“26 hours max, literally.”

Jazz was staring. Danny felt awkwardly judged.

“Hey um, as a question Danny, do you remember the last injury you got before your ghost powers?”

Danny hesitated. He racked his brain and some part of him felt a little embarrassed how hard he had to search, as if it were shameful to have been so delicately uninjured before this whole thing.

“…Dash, maybe. But Dash it good at the kind of quick jabby punches that hit your nerve but don’t bruise.”

“Anything else?”

Danny fell quiet. Then brightened. “I fell off my bike last year. Racing Tucker. Scraped up my shin and knee.”

“And how long did that take to heal?”

The delight faded a bit. Danny thinned his lips thinking. “…Maybe a while.”

“Probably a few weeks.”

“Jeez, really? No.” Danny said. And he so deeply wanted to be offended, because he’d become the biggest expert in the family on getting his skin used as a ghost shrapnel canvas, which should make him the authority on injury healing. And Jazz was doubting all of that. “No. That’d heal in like. A day.”

“Maybe with ghost powers,” Jazz answered. “Maybe in ghost form. Which, currently and for the last 3 days, you have not been in.”

Danny fell quiet. He considered this information that deeply annoyed him until, with grudgingness edging to acceptance, he looked at his hand, and then his sister, and then his hand.

“….Oh.”

That night, home and showered and with the clock creeping toward 1am, Danny sat on his bed. He pooled his hands in his lap, lit by the moonlight pouring through his bedroom window. He sat an inch above his bed, in fact, hair shimmery white and his right glove removed. In the wash of moonlight he watched his palm. And there was something haunting, almost, in the way he could see the edges of the cut stitch themselves back together bit by tiniest bit. He lost himself in a grainy infomercial on his television, and when it ended, his cut was gone.

…

Phantom returned to the ghost fighting scene with an unwarranted new confidence. In truth nothing had changed. But Danny operated now with the knowledge that he was a particular kind of resilient that he’d not actually realized before. And while he did not like getting fileted by Skulker’s ghost gut-hook knife, or seared by Ember’s flame guitar, or bonked in the head by Fenton Bolas (Dad why), there was a certain delight in the “This will all not be a problem by tomorrow”-ness of it all.

Even better, he now knew that just idling in ghost mode for an extra hour or two was all it took to be right as rain again. (“This is making your Gameboy addiction worse than Tucker’s,” Sam had commented. “Well how else am I supposed to pass the time?” Danny asked while mashing buttons with one less finger than usual. “You could read a book.”)

On the flipside, it did make Danny grouchier about mid-school-day attacks, which didn’t afford him the luxury of floating around to bake in ghost mode for an hour or two watching bad tv. And unless Mr. Lancer got real chill real fast with Danny Phantom taking Danny Fenton’s English tests, it meant that any school-time fight injury had to be dealt with conventional human-style, and super-healed after school.

And Danny carried this knowledge with more bitterness than usual one fall afternoon when a fight with Technus had already gouged into the first 15 minutes of his math test, and now Danny was going to have to suck it up for the last 45 minutes if he wanted to pass geometry this quarter. Which was bullshit because that last blast Technus got on him had really fucking hurt.

Danny landed, and in his math-induced funk, he missed the particular wide-eyed way Sam and Tucker stared at him. “Here,” Danny said, handing off the thermos to Tucker, and Danny let his human transformation slip through in rings around his sternum.

“Danny stop,” Sam said, and with an urgent breathlessness that froze Danny in place. “Do not turn back.”

Confusion seeped into Danny’s blood. He let the transformation rings fade away, and he felt the thermos heavy in his outstretched hand that Tucker would not take. Heavy and wet. Heavy, and very very wet.

He looked at his hand, and his white glove was unrecognizable beneath the saturation of red. The thermos dropped from his hand, and suddenly Danny wasn’t so sure which direction was up.

“Sit,” Sam maybe said, or said something like it. Her hands were on his shoulders. He was easing in a direction that was probably down. His butt hit cold pavement. And suddenly he raked in a shuddering breath which was wet as mud.

Sam was pulling away the top of his suit, which was the worst possible place for her to do that considering how much it hurt. She was pulling right where Technus had blasted him, and Danny had half a mind to tell her off until he saw what was underneath the fabric.

“That’s not good,” he bubbled out through a lot of blood in his mouth and throat.

Baseball-sized. Like someone had taken a very large hole-puncher right to his sternum. A very good hole-puncher because it had in fact punched him straight through and run off with the little cut-out it stole. Globby flesh spilled to fill in some of the empty space. But a solid chunk of sternum, and heart, and lung, and spine, were rudely elsewhere.

Danny was in a very slippery wet dream, and his fluttering eyes agreed.

“No,” Sam said with an unnecessarily aggressive pinch of his skin. “Absolutely do not fall asleep.”

“Ow,” Danny said, maybe about the pinch but also his missing organs.

This wasn’t good enough for Sam who was a little bit ghost-shaded herself while she grabbed both Danny’s ears tight and angled Danny’s eyes to hers. “If you turn human now that’s going to be very very bad. You’re fine, Danny. You’re just in shock, I think. Focus on me. Come on, count with me Danny. 1. 2.”

“Isn’t counting sheep supposed to put you to sleep?” Danny quipped, but all the blood gurgling maybe ruined his delivery a little.

…

His heart sewed itself back together in 20 minutes. His esophagus and trachea kindly followed at the 27-minute mark, the last of the tubage knitting itself together and forming the correct kind of air-seal against anything else in his chest cavity. That was a blessing, because passing the time was easier when he could talk without re-enacting the elevator from The Shining – a joke Danny had tried to deliver several times and which refused to land.

And while he still did not have his new spine vertebrae nor sternum by the 30-minute mark, Danny could see the way the last of the white fear had left Sam’s face and the way Tucker could now face him directly. And that told him that however he looked, he no longer looked like someone who was going to die.

By the 1-hour mark, Danny sat drenched in his own blood from a fatal wound that no longer existed. And he’d missed his math test.

…

Super healing was cool. Very cool. What other kind of power lets you just walk away from fatal injuries?

At the close of a ghost fight, thermos capped, swimming in the eerie silence of a street cleared of screams, Danny stood. And he shivered. He ran his hands up and down his stomach, his chest, his back his face, pressing any pain-point to discover if his fingers would sink in wet and deep. Was it safe to transform back? If he made a mistake, would he notice fast enough? Would he be able to turn back again in time?

Alone in the snow of the Amity golf course. The roof of the mall. The back archives of the library. Danny lingered. Many places were good for lingering, and so Danny would linger, wherever and whenever he could. It made that held-breath feeling of transforming back easier, to know no part of him was at risk of undoing him.

And sometimes his hand did come away sticky. And in the black of night Danny went home, mindful to step only on the kitchen tile from which blood could be wiped up cleanly. And he was tired from too many nights of this when he pulled cereal from the cupboard and splashed milk into a bowl and cleared away the nuts and bolts from the half-undressed Fenton Disintegrator (undergoing v2 upgrades) and flickered the noxious glow of the muted television to life while his liver stitched itself back together. The tremble would not quite leave his cereal spoon hand but he’d manage.

One night Walker had blasted off half of Danny’s skull. And he lay shaking hunched on the pavement willing himself to overcome the pangs of shock radiating through his body until he had enough composure to call Tucker on the phone and ask if he could come over, if they could play Man vs. Zombie maybe, and stay awake through the night while his brain matter remade itself.

One night he had to grab Valerie by the ankle before she flew off, and she probably only heeded him because the break in Phantom’s superhero bravado unnerved her so much. “Please just stay and talk to me. Something bad will happen if I fall asleep,” he said, while holding the parts that used to be his stomach. “Define ‘bad.’” “I’ll die.” “Sounds like a human.” She shouldn’t have taken pity on him. But she did. Maybe because she was a human who would die like Danny if left on the pavement with her stomach open. Valerie stayed until the sun rose.

And he was lucky, because as a human he should have died. And Danny didn’t. He just came close, more and more and more. Until the sight of a raised ghost weapon forced a very human flinch from him.

…

“…losing an edge, you’d say, Craig?” “Not exactly. As a psychiatrist who’s worked with many veterans and active-duty soldiers, it’s common to—”

“Morning,” Jack said, flipping up his welding mask just long enough to nod to Danny before re-busying himself in his soldering.

“Dad, do you think maybe you could do that in the lab?” Jazz asked over a bowl of cornflakes, with a tone one might use when asking a 10-year-old to move his basketball game outside.

“Hmm, why? The table won’t catch fire.”

“Which is what you said last time,” Jazz said, carefully plucking up a cooled bit of metal scrap from beside her cereal bowl.

“…ffered many fatal injuries on camera, who knows how many weren’t capt—”

The television drowned beneath the screech of Jack’s welding, let up to breathe for moments at a time before Jack resumed the drowning. Danny’s eyes followed. The refurbished Fenton Disintegrator had nearly reformed, bigger than its original body, with a gaping fish-mouth twice the radius of the thing which had blasted up the fish in the campground lake.

“I just think, Dad, that you and Mom have a whooooole laboratory basement to yourselves, and I have just this one dining table to eat cereal at, so—”

“But then you kids would miss out on what I’m making. See, Danny’s interested. Danny, watch this—”

Jack hoisted the monster up. He hitched it atop his shoulder, and set his eye behind its sight, and twisted at the hip to point its open maw directly at Danny.

Danny froze.

“Dad, Jesus, at least show some trigger-discipline if you’re—Danny?”

Danny could not move. He could not move or really see. The shockwave rippled through him, and he believed for the moment that surely he’d been shot until Jazz shook him. “Danny, are you okay?”

Danny’s heart was intact but still it squeezed like it had been ripped. His legs were whole but they were numb beneath him. And he was useless too. Over what? Over nothing. Over a gun pointed at him, the sort which had been pointed at him 4,000 times before.

“…Danny?” Jazz asked, more worried than before. Jack had put down the gun, and he was staring at Danny in the same way.

And it was stupid. So very stupid. Because Danny had super-healing, and a hit from something like that would heal. It could rip him apart, and he’d be completely fine.

So it was all actually incredibly incredibly stupid that he was somehow, without even meaning to, crying.

…

The fight had ended three hours ago. And three hours was longer than only the worst of his injuries took to heal. Tonight had not been bad at all, just a bit of ripping and tearing at his leg from a bear-trap Skulker had laid (despite Skulker insisting he did not know what a bear was). And that had healed up in 20 minutes flat.

Danny lingered anyway, sitting soaking cold in the snow on the golf course. He liked that it was high-up here. He liked that the lights fanned far and wide. He liked that the razed-flat golf turf allowed nothing to hide. He wiled away the hours he ought to be sleeping, because there was a security in consciousness, in his ghost form. If he slept, he could be killed. And if he sat resting in ghost form on the crest of the golf course hill, he could not.

But he could nod off. Catching his head at each dip. But his mind fizzled and faded, rubbing against the staticky edge of sleep, enough to perhaps not notice steps in the snowfall that tracked him to where he sat.

The whir of the charging gun kicked him to high alert.

All alert, all at once, so suddenly adrenaline soaked that Danny had no sense of orientation when he spun on spot and his eyes drank in the sight of the barrel-mouth breathing to life in his direction.

“Told you I fixed the calibration on this, Honey.”

“Well at least it’s not a fish.”

Stop, Danny wanted to say. But he was paralyzed. He was dread. He was stone.

It screeched. And it roared. And with a connection of a car crash, it took greedily for itself a gibbous moon of Danny’s torso.

He collapsed. Eyes spinning. Ears ringing. Sensation like fire and like ice and like buzzing static and nothing, feeling, at all to connect to his legs.

Stop, Danny wanted to say. But he needed a mouth for that. So the second blast connected.

…

It had been an amount of time. Jack and Maddie Fenton may have stooped in the snow and collected samples to study. Danny could not know, because he’d need eyes to know. They may have crunched with their boots and mused about the resilience of ecto-flesh, more resilient than fish-flesh. Danny could not know, because he’d need ears to know. They may have picked him up piece-meal and carried him in their pockets. Danny could not know. Not without touch.

He may have been on the golf course. He may not have been. There was no ‘where’ Danny could know. He needed his proprioception for that.

There was was. There was something Danny hoped was be. This was, Danny hoped, awake. This was the only awake he could be without a brain. And if this was awake, how long could he last? And if this was awake, was it enough to heal again?

Super healing was cool. It saved you from death. But maybe not always.

Was time passing…? Was the snow cold. Was the wind blowing. Was the hilltop white under pooling lights. Was it. And did it. And was he and did he.

Was time passing?

Surely, it had been just an eternity, by now. An eternity at least.

Or had it been only one second.

Or Danny wasn’t here.

He was, though. He had to exist to feel what he felt in the moment. He had to exist even if he was deprived of the mouth needed to scream the agony that was, in its entirety, him.

…

Sun glazed the snow on the east bank of the golf course down to a slushy sheen by 10am the next morning. Mitted, in snow boots, three trespassers combed the 18 holes of Amity Park Golf Course.

“Are you sure it’s this one?” Sam asked, voice hoarse with a question that had been repeated once an hour for the last three hours between heaving breaths of clearing snow.

“It has to be this one. They said golf course there’s only one golf course,” Jazz answered, and her hands trembled against the heel of the shovel she dug into her nearest snowbank.

“Do you see any foot prints?”

“They’re melted.”

“Well check the melted sides then!”

“We checked the melted sides.”

“Maybe we missed—”

“Guys shut up,” Tucker said, and he said it low, and he said it with lips the color of ash. He stood rooted. And his eyes shifted to the crown of the hill 30 feet to their right.

Jazz and Sam shut up. Because they heard it too.

Jazz abandoned her shovel in the snow. She ran. But Sam was faster.

And it was a noise. Long and piercing and deflating. Quiet. Then starting fresh from the top. Long and singular, like the note of a bagpipe. Sam rounded the crest of the hill. And she found the noise first.

And this close, she realized what it was. The noise was relief. Because the thing lying in the melted snow was finally enough of a mouth, and enough of a throat, and enough of a lung, to scream.

[takes1]

Can you do needy kenma smut????? Plzzzz

needy!kenma can't keep his hands off of you

this was incredibly fun to write lmao, just some nasty, feel-good stuff here

warnings. heavy nsfw, minors DNI

details. fem!reader / established relationship / fluffy smut / whiny!kenma / cuddly!kenma / so much PDA / kuroo wants to third / tired!kenma / cuddlefucking / dacryphilia / switchy!kenma / subby!kenma / kenma begging a lot / cumming inside / f!rec oral / passionate sex / kenma loves head scratches / 2.8k words

links. my masterlist. more haikyuu. my ao3. requests OPEN

Nekoma was walking away with a laborious and well-fought win against their last opponent of the day. It was a lengthy, painstaking endeavor to watch-- let alone to play it all. With months of experience under your belt, you were prepared for Kenma to be tired.

Yet, as he stumbled up to you, hot and wet and miserable, a shocked chuckle drifted past your lips.

"Mmnh-! Thank Goood," He moaned into the comfort of your shoulder and let himself collapse onto you.

The unbridled sound startled not only you, but got the attention of his teammates, still trying to find their partners or family in the crowded and noisy halls.

You wavered under so much weight at once and took on a staggered stance, having completely underestimated his exhaustion just by the look of him.

"C'm'over t'night-," He begged, right away.

He spared no time to talk about the game, his condition, or to say hello.

"Kenma-!"

You half-laughed at his theatrics and his desperate tone. It wasn't rare for him to be grabby or gropey after a game, but this was explicit stuff for an environment so public. He also wouldn't let up on how much he was leaning on you;  although he wasn't a big guy, his dead weight wasn't something you weren't equipped to carry.

"Please b'by," He blubbered against your neck; it turned into a big, wet kiss, and a very intimate whisper, "I need t' hold you..."

A fretful sound stayed shared between you, against his shoulder, before you pushed him off to stand on his own. He quickly sunk to the floor.

"Oh my gosh-," You hauled him right back up, eyes darting around for explanation and found Kuroo, "Is he okay?"

Finally given a strong reason to tease, Kuroo shrugged, leaning closer to your height. He was inspecting him to see if he was at risk for something serious, but found nothing other than his friend's shitty stamina to blame.

Kuroo stood back up, a fake sincerity in his face and to his words, "Hm...Looks like he just needs some T&A."

"You're not helping," You snapped, adjusting under Kenma as he yawned against your hair.

He only snickered at your plight.

The team was supposed to go out for a victory meal, courtesy of their Coach, but Kenma refused to attend if you weren't invited. He refused to do a lot of things, including getting his hands off of you, even when formally told to do so. It was only because Kuroo was their Captain, and held a special fondness for the two of you, that you were vouched for and allowed to be there.

It put you in a tough position. You planned to bring it up to Kenma when he wasn't so useless.

He held you in a vice grip, all bent over, cheek atop your shoulder, the entire ride there. You were stuffed in the corner of the car, suffocated by his body, the addictive smell of his sweaty uniform under a hoodie you brought for him. He flat-ignored every single attempt to talk from the rest of the team, so you took up the mantle of answering for him, if it was needed.

"He's fine- he's just tired," Was one you found yourself repeating at least four times.

But you weren't exactly sure if that was the only thing ailing him. He wasn't usually this bad after a match.

"Carry me?" He begged.

"Baby, you know I can't do that."

He slid like a liquid out of the car, into the restaurant, onto booth seat next to you- practically on top of you. Kuroo trapped the two of you in from the outside and you were once more, squished against a wall.

His leg wrapped around yours, his head returned to your shoulder, arm around you, a groany sigh in his throat.

Kenma was usually very touchy, too touchy- in most cases- but this was a brand new extreme.

"Can we just go home?" Was a question for both you and Kuroo.

You pressed a long, loving peck to his temple, your fingers reached into his hair to scratch his scalp, reassuring.

"No, you need to eat something first."

You tried to stifle your reaction to his hands gripping the table. His eyes were scrunched tight at how fucking good that new manicure felt.

The weight of his head was crashing into your palm, something too close to a whine at the top of his throat.

Your hand was back in your own lap. He leaned towards the absence, dizzy in the aftermath.

The uncontrollable blush crept into every nook and cranny of your face and it only grew in intensity at Kuroo's curiosity and amusement.

"That feel good, buddy?"

"Shut up," Was in a strained mumble.

He accepted the bowl Kuroo built for him as an apology. He ate gradually, much slower than the rest of the team. While most of the guys worked on seconds, thirds, even fourths, Kenma was lucky to finish what he got the first time.

It was good enough.

As promised, it was straight home after the little dinner celebration. You were able to spend the night last-minute, under the excuse that it was late and you were scared of public transportation in the dark, alone.

The thought that he might feel better after a meal and a shower was proven to be just as wrong. He walked out of the bathroom in just his briefs.

Taut, toned and a little tacky to the touch. His fingers scratched at his smooth belly, like he was still hungry.

You set your phone down and slid to sit on the edge of his bed.

"D'you feel any better?"

Now that you were alone, you were much more receptive to his afflictions. He rubbed his hair partially dry, threw the towel on his gaming chair, and collapsed at your feet.

Kenma stuffed his face in your lap, arms wrapped strong around your legs. He took a sobering breath in, but it did nothing to calm himself down.

"Aaah, you smell sooo good-!" He seethed, fingers filling with your soft thighs.

Kenma's affinity for your scent rivaled that of an animal.

He stole long, messy kisses, right at the top of your thighs, spreading your legs further apart- you squirmed at the tingly sensation, but he gripped you tight.

From here, you had a nice view of his lean and chiseled back. You dragged your nails over it, slow and steady circles, as he sighed and grew heavy in your lap.

His kisses grew slower and distracted, but he didn't stop trying to nuzzle in closer to your sex.

"Missed you..." He mumbled.

His admission buzzed through your clothes, inspiring a strong twitch. He grinned.

Palms sliding under your legs, he knocked you off balance to your elbows and shuffled closer, fingers hooking to pull your clothes off until you were completely bare.

When he got this way, he never wanted to talk much. He couldn't hold a conversation for shit when he was hard, so you were limited with what you could get out of him.

If he felt fine enough for this, he must have been okay the whole time.

"So this was all you needed," You muttered to yourself, grumpy about his behavior for only a moment.

The sloppy kiss against your pussy was all the apology you needed.

You relaxed with a whine and slid back onto his sheets. The wet sounds of him eating you gave you butterflies, no matter how often he did it.

"Ooh-, fuuck," You moaned.

The way he pleased you, regardless of method, was always a slow, sleepy endeavor. He carried a kind of dirty ease about it, never struggling to meet your eyes during the raunchiest parts.

He shot his tongue out far to lap at your needy entrance, slow back up to your clit with a kiss, his stare never wavering from your face.

You sucked in a breath through your teeth, your nails back in his hair, and bucked into his strangled groan.

"Did you have some good games today?" You managed to ask, sweet, teasing him.

Your thighs flinched, a whine coming forward, at his long, "Mmmmhmn..."

Hearing him beg for your touch, your body, your attention for hours left you craving him.

You knew he had a short battery for hard work, but he was flat out pathetic all evening. You had never seen him this needy, but it was a huge turn-on.

He met your gaze, leaning hard into your hand.

"You want this pussy?" You tested the waters with a taunt.

His face washed over with complete ease, his brow twisted up tight as he lifted his head from you. You were dripping from his chin.

"Please- yesyes'ys- please--,"

You shushed him- half because it was hot, half because of his family downstairs. You pulled him up by his hair and he rubbed his throbbing erection against you with a whine.

A hot, messy kiss failed to make him quieter, but you were able to at least muffle it.

From here, you could feel how shaky his shoulders were from the demand of the day. It didn't effect how quickly he pulled his cock out and sank into you, never once parting to look or to breathe.

The stretch he gave you was just right- you arched into him, legs bringing him in further.

His sleepy, obsessed gaze only grew harder to focus on as he started to fuck you steady and fast on the edge of his mattress, like he'd been waiting to all day, fantasizing about during every break.

And you lay there, taking him so well, adoring and comforting and supportive- just as you had been, giving up your time to cheer for him at his exhausting day of matches.

"Mmh-!" You whined as he straightened back up, his thumb rolling against your clit.

He was even fucking you with eyes. He wished he could turn you out after every practice, just to blow off steam. If he had your pussy to look forward to, it might motivate him to try a little harder, like Kuroo always joked that he needed.

The glossy, loving look you wore was too much. He grew huffy, tired- closer.

"F-uck," He cried, high and shaky.

His hand squeezed the lower half of your face with varying degrees of strength, as he could manage it. The way he stared down at you was loaded and layered. Somehow mastering the look of both submission and possession.

"You're- mmnh- ahh, you're soo pretty," His eyes rolled back, welled up, another unchecked cry at the back of his throat.

Tears started rolling down his wanton expression. He let you go so he could wipe them.

"Are you- ah-mmn, Okay?"

You reached your hand out to stall his hips. Thighs tired, but squeezing on him to make it harder, but he sniffled and shook his head. He didn't stop.

"You just-," Kenma sobbed again, coming forward to hold you, not forgetting to take the back of your knees with him.

Your shuddery mewl at the motion was talked over- the use of his bodyweight and this position stretched, tightened, your sore pussy around him.

"Feel s-o good."

He shoved his face in the nook of your shoulder, the water from his hair mixing with his tears, soaking the sheets and cooling you off. The struggle in his noise was impossible to distinguish between him crying and moaning.

The lewd sounds of him bottoming out in you had you on edge for a couple of reasons; there was no way his folks couldn't hear this, or least his shitty bedframe squeaking- but he was working you so close to finishing that you didn't dare tell him to be quiet.

"Can I--ah-!" He pulled away, breathy and flushed, his tears dried against his cheeks, "Cum- inside?"

The look, coupled with his deep, rough thrusts, left you speechless. You nodded, unable to form any string of words.

Kenma was all too spoiled- you never had the resolve to deny him at this point, when he needed to cum and asked you nicely. He was so deep, he was so good to you, he begged so well, you couldn't just let him pull out.

You knew you probably shouldn't rely on a little pill to keep this from turning into a big problem, but like every other time he filled you up, it could wait to be worried about.

Right now, you couldn't get enough. You needed it all.

The rhythm of his thrusts got so hard, so fast, you couldn't believe he was acting that tired earlier. You couldn't keep your noise down, and neither could he. So he sandwiched your thighs between you and leaned, even further, to kiss you through your climax.

"Mmn-h," He dug his nails into you, another pitched cry crashing against your sore lips.

Warmth filled you up, leaving you gasping, watching his face, at all the heat he fucked into your spasming cunt.

You were squirming for a while, breath uneven, little whiny noises in his ear, at how hot and sticky and heavy it all was, dripping slow onto the sheets.

His fingers steadied you, grounded you, slow, small, gentle little circles in your hair.

He loved how undone you were, how he could fill you up with just the right amount of dumb for a while if you let him.

Kenma sucked a few bruises into your neck while he waited for you to come down, softening inside but keeping himself buried, mindlessly. He was comfortable. No need to move.

"I'm okay..." You sighed, finally verbal again- he smiled at how cute you were.

He straightened with marked effort. You shared an overstimulated wince at the consequence of the decision.

Eyes closed, you let him slowly straighten your legs back out with a trusting exhale.

"I love you," He affirmed.

It was quiet, simple, and not the first. You brushed his cheek, studying his tear streaks with your thumb as he flopped on his back, next to you. He didn't need to say it out loud for you to know.

A little peck to his chin, "I love you, too."

You stretched, standing, to go clean up and get ready for bed. When you came back from the bathroom, you expected him to be on a game, or at least catching up on his phone.

He was lying just the way you had left him, but fast asleep. Some seize-like twitching confirmed it. He was out cold.

Kenma didn't make a fuss when you had to push him 90 degrees, to get his legs on the bed, and rolled him closer to the center. He quickly fell back asleep, if he had even truly woken up for all of it.

You had just snuggled up to his warm side, falling asleep to his light snoring, when his phone began to ring.

You still answered it straight away in a knee-jerk response, but that's how you knew he was in a deep sleep. He didn't stir at all.

Eyes back on the phone, you realized it was Kuroo and went to say hello.

Your body gave a hard flinch. You didn't realize it was a FaceTime and barely had a second to pan the camera away from anything too incriminating.

He studied, squinting at what he could see. It was just your face, your messy hair, and maybe an aftersex glow, if he looked hard enough.

"Hm. Is Kemma asleep?"

"Mhm," You panned to his sleeping form next to you, not careful enough to leave your shared skin out of it.

He giggled hard at the sight, the sound of him snoring. You heard the clicking of screenshots and grinned at the future grief Kenma would give you for letting it happen. When Kuroo was done, he sucked in a breath.

"Mmm, you did all that?"

You had to take another look at the screen to understand what he meant- if he meant it like that. He sure did. That low-lidded, mischievous smirk was unmistakable.

A roll of your eyes, "What about it?"

He seethed, scanning your pretty, sleepy features. He couldn't resist. "You want me to come finish you off?"

You were too used to his flirting and boundary-ignorance at this point. The best tactic you found was to ignore him.

"Bye, Kuroo--,"

"I'm kiddiiing! Kinda- Ah-hm, You're the best, byyye!"

VIP

@integers @yuchacco

my masterlist. my request box.

[lokis-army-77]

A Text Away

Modern!Eddie Munson x fem reader

Word Count: 1.7k

You've been horny all day and Eddie is at band practice... but you know a way to get him home.

Warning: 18 +. face sitting/riding, breeding kink, multiple orgasms, p in v, unprotected sex.

And thank you to @strangerxperv for the absolutly fabulous idea 💗

Masterlist

After a long day at work, there were two things you wanted. One, a nice hot shower, and two, your boyfriend to fuck you into next week. 

It wasn’t Eddie’s fault that watching him get dressed to go work at the local record store made you horny. He couldn’t help the fact that every time you saw the little trail of hair dipping past the waist of his pants, your legs clenched, and your body grew warmer.

You dealt with your racing thoughts all through your own shift at the bookshop, imagining your return home and how good he would feel against you. 

Only, he wasn’t home when you unlocked your apartment door. 

Sighing in disappointment you trudge to the bathroom to start warming the water. As you wait, you text Eddie.

Where are you? I need you..  like really bad.

Your phone dings a few minutes later while you are in the middle of scrubbing shampoo in your hair.

Wiping your hand off on the towel, you reach for your phone, lying on the small shelf above the towel rack. 

Eddie had responded.

In a bit baby. I'm at practice.

You pout as you read the text only to smile mischievously. You message him as fast as you can with one dry hand.

But Eddie.. if you come home I'll sit on your face. And I mean really sit on your face.

There is no ding of a notification once you set your phone back down and continue your shower routine. 

Twenty minutes later, you've given up on Eddie answering you, have put on your comfiest pajamas, and are now snuggled up in bed. 

You're startled when the front door slams open and you hear thick boots pacing in your direction. 

"Take your fucking pants off right now," Eddie commands as he bursts into your shared bedroom. 

You're sat up, back against the headboard, staring at him, bewildered as he practically flops backward onto the bed.

When he hadn’t texted you back you assumed he just wasn't interested at the moment, you never could have imagined this. 

You start to giggle when he starts making grabby hands at you. "Pussy on my mouth, now." 

When the words leave his mouth, you practically choke on a laugh. 

"Babe, quit laughing and get up here. Set on my fucking face like you promised." He grumps. 

You have no choice but to obey as you say, "Okay okay, patient much?"

It's only fair that you tease him a little. So you slowly emerge from under the covers, fingers delicately pulling at the waist of your pajama pants. 

Eddie watches with a hunger in his dark brown eyes. His tongue flicks out to wet his lips when you begin to tug your pants down. Slowly but surely you are exposed to him and he almost dies when he realizes you weren't wearing panties. 

Before you can even get to your knees, Eddie is gripping your ankle and pulling your body down the bed to him with a strength acquired from years of hauling heavy amps and other musical equipment from place to place. 

"Eddie!" You squeal, more laughter leaving you when your head falls, bouncing on the mattress. 

"You're going too slow, baby." He cries, letting his hold up but hands never leaving you.  

You shake your head, a knowing smirk playing on your lips. Finally, you get to your knees and straddle him. He is impatiently pulling you up his body, only stopping when you are hovering over his face. 

Your eyes meet his as you stare down between your legs. He'd got a big, goofy grin plastered on his face. 

"Fuck." He sighs. "I've died and gone to heaven." His large hands wrap around your legs and right before he pulls you flush to his mouth he says, "Don't hold back."

When his hot mouth makes contact with your waiting pussy, you gasp. The need you had been feeling all day long now has an outlet. 

Eddie's tongue swipes through your folds, lapping up the arousal that had already started to seep from your cunt. His nose rubs against your clit, pulling a strangled moan from you. 

A hand shoots down to tangle in his hair when his tongue plays at the rim of your cunt, flicking ever so slightly in and out of you.

He's like a man starved as he devours all that is given to him. You feel his fingers moving up to your hips. There's a slight pressure as he pushes you and in a flush of worry, you pull off of him.

The desperate whine that falls past his already swollen lips makes your heart flutter.

"Why'd you move away?"

"You were pushing me.. are you okay? I thought you couldn't breathe." I exasperate.

"No, I was trying to get you to ride me. Hump my face sweetheart." He doesn't say another word, he just grips onto you once more and pulls you down. 

You understand what he wants now, so you lean back, hands resting on the tops of his things behind you, and you canter your hips. Slow and steady you used him for your own pleasure. 

"Eddie-" you sigh breathlessly, head falling back between your shoulders. 

He hums in response. The vibrations travel up through your core and into your body. Shivers accompany them as you feel a knot forming in your stomach.

"Eddie please-" Your knees and arms are burning as you continue to grind yourself against him. "I'm gonna- shit I'm gonna cum."

Your lungs are struggling to fill with air as you get closer and closer to release. Eddie's hands are wrapped over your thighs, fingers searching for your clit. 

When he finds it, you double over. The knot pulls tighter and you feel a sheen of sweat cover your body. 

Quickly, your first orgasm comes to light. There's a blazing fire erupting within you and it takes all you have not to fall flat on your face. Long, drawn-out moans flow from you and Eddie does not stop. His tongue pushed into you, tasting your release. 

His fingers now grip the fat of your ass harshly. He keeps you on top of him and he moves his face from side to side as best he can with you practically smothering him with your pussy. 

This time he does actually push you up off him. He takes a deep breath and groans. "Fuck baby, taste so good." He turns his head, kissing the inside of your thigh and then he bites you. His teeth sink into the soft skin in the crease where your inner thigh meets with your body. 

In a series of fluid movements, Eddie has you on your back in an instant. He unzips his pants and pulls himself out of them, tugging on his hardness before getting into position. Your legs are being pushed back by his hands holding you at the bend of the knee. 

"You're so pretty like this… pussy all wet and needy for me." His voice is muffled by the loud beating of your heart in your ears. "Mmm gonna fuck you full."

You whimper as you feel his hard length run through your glistening folds, his hips jutting against the backs of your thighs. 

"Yeah, you like that? Want me to fill you with my cum?" 

You nod, crying out when his cock finally pressed through the tight threshold of your cunt. "Need it, please, I need it."

"Just my little cum baby aren't you?" He asks, fully sheathing himself in you.

Your back arches off the bed and you groan. Fingernails scratching at Eddie’s forearms. 

He pulls back and slams into you. "Aren't you?"

"Yes!" You cry out. His cock reaches into the very depths of you, the tip hitting in just the right place to make you scream. "Yes! I am, I am, Eddie!"

"Mmm, good. Gonna give it all to you, sweetheart. Gonna breed this pretty fuckin' pussy." His fingers adjust themselves as his grip slips and then he's pounding into you at such a brutal pace. Back and forth, in and out, he is fucking you raw.

Your walls clamp around him, the drag of his cock stimulates you more and you clench harder. 

Skin on skin, the noises that they make are obscene. The squelch of him entering you has your face burning, not in embarrassment but desire. His gruff growls and fucked out moans accompany those other sounds and all they do is make you even more horny. 

Eddie fucks into you with reckless abandon, mind full of images of your belling swollen with his child. How much he would love for you to sit on his face like that, all pretty and pregnant. 

Your toes curl when Eddie flips your t-shirt up to expose your breasts. A strong, calloused hand reaching out for the mound of flesh. He kneads it and pulls on your nipple before swiping a gentle thumb over the hardened bud.

The way he fucks you is savage. Hips snapping at a speed you couldn't imagine, his fingers squeeze your skin so hard you are sure you will have brushes in the shape of his hands all over you. 

The knot pulls tighter once more and your body begins to lock up in anticipation. Your eyes flutter before rolling to the back of your head. Your hands reach for his, interlocking your fingers, hoping he will keep you down on Earth. 

As your orgasm hits once more, you wail. A long, monotone cry bursts from your lungs, whole unattractive but who cares when you feel so so so good? 

"That's it. That's fucking it." Eddie gasps. Your cunt is practical milking him. He's trying to hold off but it's all just too much. A shiver runs up his spine and his balls pull taut. He's lost his rhythm, hips now bucking unevenly and with desperation. 

All it takes is another whimper from you and he's a gunner. With one last hard thrust, he keeps himself buried to the hilt. Your walls are spasming around him, your release gushing out along with his own sticky, milky white cum. 

"Yes, fuck yes. That's it, baby, take all my fucking cum." 

He falls forward, letting go of your knees.  His forehead rests in the crook of your neck and his lips press softly into your skin. He kisses you, a needed juxtaposition from mere seconds ago. 

His breath is warm on your salt-slicked skin as he speaks again. "Such a good little cum baby, taking all that. S'what you wanted, hum?"

You close your eyes, tired. "Yeah," you whisper. "Just what I wanted."

[lanf1an]

SEASONS lando norris x fewtrell sister pt.1 - january 5 2025 The annual family ski trip was finally here, and you could barely contain your excitement. There was something about this trip that always felt like coming home—the crisp mountain air, the cozy lodge that hadn’t changed a bit since you were kids, and the chaotic mix of your two families under one roof.

hope people will find this, made a sideblog for this, havent used tumblr in a while, feel free to send any suggestions to improve the lay-out/blog etc. Also let me know if you think this chapter is too long. I've already written many parts so will update regularly if people like it.

pt.2 pt.3 pt.4 pt.5 pt.6

wordcount: 2322

The annual family ski trip was finally here, and you could barely contain your excitement. There was something about this trip that always felt like coming home—the crisp mountain air, the cozy lodge that hadn’t changed a bit since you were kids, and the chaotic mix of your two families under one roof.

You hadn’t seen your twin brother and Pietra in weeks, since they had decided to spent the holidays in Brazil, and you were itching to catch up. You also hadn’t seen the whole Norris family since Abu Dhabi, which had been an absolute blast. You’d meet up with Flo and Cisca regularly in London, having spent Christmas and New Years together, but the whole family being together was a rarity. This year felt extra special, though—it was the first time Dylan was coming along.

Your boyfriend of nearly a year had fit seamlessly into your life back home, and now he was finally meeting the entire crew. Max already got along with him like a house on fire, and you couldn’t wait for him to meet everyone else.

“Stil the same old place. Can’t wait to hit the slopes” Max said looking around with a grin. “You better teach me some sick board tricks this trip Dyl” he continued. “Only if you’re ready to fall on your ass,” Dylan shot back with a laugh. “Careful, Max is competitive,” you teased, they all laughed, Dylan was actually a professional snowboarder, making it that much funnier. 

The Fewtrells had arrived at the lodge first, giving you a chance to show Dylan around before everyone else got there. The house was as you remembered—wood-paneled walls, mismatched furniture, and warm fires crackling in every hearth.

“This is where you grew up skiing?” Dylan asked as you led him upstairs, his snowboard bag slung casually over his shoulder.

“Pretty much. Max and I used to share this room—” you pushed open a door, looking at him slyly, excited to share the room with him this time. The room smelled faintly of cedar, its twin beds still adorned with the same plaid comforters you’d had as kids.

“It’s nice,” Dylan said, setting his bag down and pulling you into his arms. “Cozy. Definitely feels like you.”

Before you could reply, his lips brushed yours, a warm and familiar kiss that made your heart flutter as his hands brushed through your hair, leading you towards the bed. Before things could go further, a loud voice broke the moment. “Fewtrell!” Cisca called from downstairs, followed by Flo’s laughter.

You turned, rolling your eyes affectionately. “Let’s go. You’ll love this chaos.”

Downstairs, the Norris family was filing in, luggage and snow-dusted boots piling up in the entryway. Lando appeared last, hauling a duffel bag with one hand and ski equipment in the other.

“Landooo!” you and Max called out in unison, both running to greet him.“Can’t even drop my stuff first?” Lando teased, dropping the bag with an exaggerated groan as you pulled him into a hug.“Ah, our world champion has arrived,” your dad said, stepping forward with a warm smile. “Welcome back, Lando. Well-deserved break, eh?” “Something like that,” Lando said, grinning as he accepted the handshake. “Nothing beats this place, though.”

“Lando, this is Dylan,” you said, gesturing between them. Dylan extended a hand. “Good to finally meet you. She’s told me a lot about you.” “All good things, I hope,” Lando replied with a polite smile, shaking his hand.“Mostly,” Dylan teased, earning a laugh from everyone. Max threw an arm around Dylan’s shoulders. “You’re in for it now, Lando. Dylan’s a beast on the slopes. Red Bull-sponsored and everything.” “Oh, so I’m not the only sponsored athlete here?” Lando said, his tone light but with a playful edge. It was a miracle Max and Lando hadn’t killed each other yet, being as competitive as they are. Dylan grinned. “Guess not. Maybe we should race to see who’s faster.” “Careful what you wish for, even beat Red Bull this year” Lando shot back.

That night, as wine flowed and the parents went to bed early, the kids stayed up playing cards, laughing over inside jokes, and planning the next day’s ski routes.

—

The next morning, you woke to the sound of muffled voices drifting up from the kitchen and the faint smell of coffee brewing. Dylan was still sound asleep, his arm draped over your waist. Careful not to wake him, you slid out of bed, threw on a sweater, and made your way downstairs.

Max and Lando were already up, bundled in their ski gear, arguing over who would get to claim the fastest run of the day.

"Morning," Lando said, looking up from lacing his boots. His grin was warm and easy, the kind of smile that had been the same since he was a kid.

"Morning," you replied, grabbing a mug of coffee and leaning against the counter. "You two sound like you're gearing up for a war, not a ski day."

"It is a war," Max declared dramatically, waving a spatula he’d been using to flip pancakes. "Do you remember the incident of 2016?"

"How could I forget?" you said, laughing. "Lando sulking for hours after you beat his time."

"Exactly. Redemption arc starts today," Lando shot back, a playful glint in his eye.

You rolled your eyes but couldn't help smiling. It was moments like these—carefree and full of banter—that reminded you why these trips meant so much.

After breakfast, you, Dylan, and the rest of the group gathered outside, ready to hit the slopes. The sky was a perfect shade of blue, the snow pristine under the morning sun. The energy was contagious, with everyone laughing and joking as they strapped into their skis or boards.

You and Lando split from the main group, both opting for skis while the others took their boards, eager to get tips from Dylan.

“Still as bad at snowboarding as you were at 12?” you teased as the two of you rode the lift up the mountain.

“Not everyone can be a prodigy like you,” Lando quipped, pretending to be offended. “Besides, I’d rather stick to what I’m good at—like beating you down this run.”

“You wish,” you shot back, nudging his arm as the lift slowed.

When you reached the top, it was as if no time had passed at all. Skiing with Lando had always been your thing, a tradition as old as the ski trips themselves. You raced down the slope, weaving between trees and laughing like kids again. At the bottom, you both collapsed into the snow, breathless and grinning.

“Still got it,” Lando said, brushing snow off his jacket.

“I let you win,” you replied, but your smile gave you away.

“I’ve missed this,” you said, lying back in the snow.

“What, losing to me?” Lando teased, throwing a handful of snow in your direction.

You took a break at a skilodge for drinks, glad it wasn’t crowded, texting the rest of the group to join them if they were close.

“It’s so weird how we haven’t actually caught up properly since Abu Dhabi,” you said, getting comfortable and sipping your drink.

— Abu Dhabi december 8 2024

The club was electric—music pulsing through the air, bodies packed tight, and the sharp tang of spilled drinks mingling with the faint scent of expensive cologne. It was the kind of night where everything felt larger than life, McLaren world championship, even as it blurred at the edges.

Lando wasn’t entirely sure how many drinks he’d had. Enough that the world tilted slightly, enough that his usual sharp instincts were dulled to a pleasant fuzziness. He wasn’t really thinking about anything in particular, just letting himself float with the energy of the room.

That’s when he saw her.

She was by the bar, her hair catching the lights in a way that felt achingly familiar. Without even realizing it, his feet carried him toward her. The closer he got, the more the resemblance struck him.

“Hey” he called softly as he approached.

The girl turned, and for a moment, he was convinced it was her. But then she smiled—wide, flirtatious, not the kind of smile she would have given him—and he blinked, the illusion shattering.

It wasn't her. Not exactly. But the resemblance was uncanny enough to send a strange shiver through him.

Still, they started talking. She was funny in a way that felt effortless, her voice cutting through the pounding bass of the music. It wasn’t long before they moved to the dance floor, their movements fluid, fueled by alcohol and the frenetic energy of the night.

Somewhere in the haze of music and lights, Lando leaned in and kissed her.

The kiss was brief but intoxicating, her lips soft and eager. For a moment, Lando let himself sink into it, into the rush of the night, the distraction she provided. But something far away tugged at the edge of his drunken consciousness.

“Lando!”

He pulled back sharply, turning to see Max weaving through the crowd toward him. His expression was one of mild exasperation but mostly confusion.

“Mate,” Max said, his voice slightly slurred, though his amusement was clear. He looked from Lando to the girl, then back again, his eyebrows shooting up. “What the hell are you doing?”

“What do you mean?” Lando asked, putting his hands up in the air, suddenly self-defensive.

Max gestured at the girl, a bemused grin tugging at his lips. “I thought you were kissing my sister! She looks like my sister. Like, exactly like my sister. But—” He looked at her again, his grin faltering. “Also not. It’s weird, mate.”

The girl frowned, her arms crossing over her chest. “Okay, rude.”

“No offense,” Max said quickly, raising his hands in mock surrender. “You’re gorgeous, but I mean, come on.” He turned to Lando, shaking his head. “How drunk are you right now?”

Lando blinked, his mind scrambling to catch up. He looked at the girl again, his stomach twisting uncomfortably. Now that Max had pointed it out, the similarities felt too stark, too deliberate, explaining why it had felt weird.

“I wasn’t—” he started, but Max cut him off.

“Relax, mate,” Max said with a laugh, clapping him on the shoulder. “I get it. Long season, wild night. Just...you know, maybe cool it before you confuse yourself more.”

The girl rolled her eyes. “Whatever. I’m getting a drink.” She disappeared into the crowd, leaving the two of them standing there.

Max watched her go, then turned back to Lando, his grin softening into something more understanding. “You okay?”

“Yeah,” Lando said quickly, still in a confused haze.

Max tilted his head, studying him for a moment before shrugging. “Let’s go find my real sister,” he said, steering Lando toward the other side of the club. “She’s way better company than, uh...that.”

Lando didn’t argue, but as they walked, his thoughts remained tangled. Max was right—the resemblance had been unsettling, bothering him for a moment until Max handed him another tequila shot.

—

Lando smirked. “Well, whose fault is that? You disappeared halfway through the after-party. Left me stranded with Max and his endless tequila shots.”

You laughed, holding your drink in both hands. “I didn’t disappear! I was there—you just didn’t see me because you were busy being... you know, Lando.”

“Excuse me,” he said, mock-offended. “What does that mean?”

“It means you were too busy making rounds like the social butterfly you are. Max told me you didn’t even remember half the night.”

Lando groaned, tipping his head back. “That’s fair. I think I blanked out the moment Christian Horner started karaoke.”

You grinned. “See? That’s why I disappeared. I had better things to do, like chatting with some of the Red Bull team.”

“Ah, fraternizing with the enemy,” Lando teased. “You’re lucky Max didn’t disown you.”

“Oh, Max was fine. But you know what?” She leaned forward conspiratorially. “There was this moment… when I was talking to a certain very famous actor.”

“Who?” Lando asked, curious.

Your lips curved into a sly smile. “Not telling. But for just a second, I thought, Wow, if I weren’t with Dylan, this would be my chance.”

Lando froze mid-sip, raising a brow. “Wait, seriously?”

“Totally kidding,” you said quickly, though the grin didn’t falter. “Kind of. I mean, it’s not every day you get hit on by a Hollywood A-lister.”

Lando set his glass down, leaning forward. “Okay, now you have to tell me who it was.”

“Never,” you said, laughing. “I’ll take that secret to my grave. But don’t worry, Dylan has nothing to worry about. Besides, you were the one getting up to trouble that night.”

“Trouble?” he asked innocently.

You gave him a knowing look. “You know, with that girl who looked like me.”

Lando’s grin faltered for a moment, but he quickly recovered. “Oh, come on. Max won’t let me live that down. And for the record, I wasn’t the one who said she looked like you. He did.”

“Still, Lando,” you said, shaking your head with a teasing smile. “That’s a bit weird, even for you.”

“Hey, I was drunk,” he defended, running a hand through his hair. “And she didn’t look that much like you.”

“She could’ve been my long-lost triplet!”

“Okay, maybe a little,” he admitted sheepishly. “But I wasn’t exactly seeing straight. You can blame Max and his tequila shots for the whole situation.”

You laughed again, shaking your head. “Fine, fine. But if Max thinks you’re weird, you know it’s bad.”

Lando sighed dramatically. “Remind me why I put up with you again?”

“Because you love me,” you quipped, raising your glass in a mock toast.

“Yeah, yeah,” he said, clinking his glass with yours. You settled back into your seats, the laughter fading into a comfortable silence, both of you enjoyed, relaxed, content and tired after skiing.

—

Let me know what you think!!

[pucksandpower]

April Fools?

Lando Norris x Hamilton!Reader

Summary: maybe telling your father the big news on April Fools’ Day was not the best idea

Lewis is lounging in his driver’s room, reviewing data from the last practice session, when there’s a tentative knock at the door.

“Come in,” he calls out, not looking up from his computer screen.

The door creaks open slowly and Lewis glances over to see you and your boyfriend shuffling awkwardly into the room, neither of you making eye contact with him.

“What’s this then?” Lewis says with an amused chuckle at your strange behavior. “You two look like you’re about to face a firing squad.”

You and Lando exchange a nervous glance but remain silent, shifting your weight uneasily.

Lewis sets down his laptop and leans back in his chair. “Well, out with it. Whatever it is, I’m sure it can’t be that bad.”

You open your mouth but no words come out. You look pleadingly at Lando who seems equally incapable of speech, his lips moving soundlessly.

“I haven’t got all day here,” Lewis raises an eyebrow. “One of you needs to start talking.”

You take a steadying breath and then the words come tumbling out in a rush.

“I’m pregnant!”

There’s a beat of silence as Lewis processes what you’ve said. Then he lets out a loud laugh, slapping his knee in amusement.

“Nice one! You two really had me going for a minute there. Very funny prank!”

Lando finally finds his voice, though it comes out as more of a terrified squeak. “She’s … she’s not joking. Y/N is pregnant. With my … with my baby.”

Lewis just keeps laughing so hard that tears threaten to spill down his cheeks. “Oh come off it, you can drop the act now. I’m not falling for silly April Fools’ pranks!”

“Is … is it April Fools’ Day?” You ask hesitantly, a crease forming between your brows. “I didn’t even realize what day it was ...”

Lewis’ laughter slowly trails off as the serious expressions on your and Lando’s faces register. His eyes narrow as he looks between the two of you.

“You’re … you’re actually pregnant?” He asks slowly, needing confirmation one last time. “With Lando’s …”

Lando gulps audibly and gives the smallest of nods. “Y-yes sir.”

A rushing sound fills Lewis’ ears as the reality slams into him. His little girl, his baby, is having a baby of her own. With a driver no less — one of his competitors!

The room starts spinning dangerously.

“You …” Lewis growls, rounding on Lando with a look that could incinerate him on the spot. “You got my daughter pregnant?”

“I … I …” Lando squeaks, taking an unconscious step back.

“Start running,” Lewis rumbles in a tone of deadly calm. “You’ve got three seconds.”

Lando’s eyes widen in terror and he immediately turns to bolt out the door.

“One …” Lewis counts, rising to his feet with jerky movements.

“I’m too young to die!” Lando wails, throwing the door open and fleeing at a sprint down the hallway.

“Two …” Lewis continues menacingly, stalking after him with murder in his eyes.

“Dad, wait!” You cry out in a panic, but it’s too late.

“Three!” Lewis roars, now fully giving chase after a petrified Lando.

He tears down the corridor and out into the paddock area, drawing confused stares from crew members and team personnel.

“I’m too young to be a grandpa!” Lewis bellows at the top of his lungs, rapidly closing the gap on the fleeing Lando.

You hurry after them, catching up just as Lando races past a very confused group of mechanics, Lewis in hot pursuit.

“Don’t let him hurt me!” Lando screams as he dodges around equipment boxes.

The commotion has drawn the attention of the entire paddock by now. Cameras are out and clicking furiously as the most famous driver on the grid chases his terrified competitor in circles.

Finally, Lando trips over a stray tire and goes sprawling to the ground. Lewis is on him in an instant, grabbing him by the shirt front and hauling him up until they are nose to nose.

“Please … please don’t kill me,” Lando whimpers pathetically.

Lewis glares at the younger man for a long moment before his expression softens just a fraction. “I’ll let you live. On one condition.”

Lando nods frantically in agreement before Lewis has even named the condition.

“The baby gets my name. You two are naming it after me. No arguments.”

For a brief second, relief flashes across Lando’s face. Then his eyes go wide again in fear. “Ah well … you see … the thing is ...”

“Spit it out!” Lewis growls.

“Y/N … she wants to name the baby Nico. After Nico Rosberg.”

A muscle twitches dangerously in Lewis’ jaw and he drops Lando back to the ground in a heap.

“Oh, for fu-”

“I’m sorry! I’m so sorry!” Lando’s desperate shrieks once again fill the air, echoing across the paddock. “Lewis, please, have mercy!”

[ennabear]

ENNABEARRR! DROP ANOTHER MEAN!ABBY DRABBLE AND MY LIFE IS YOURS! (pretty please i luv your writing 🤍)

ʕง•ᴥ•ʔง HEHEHEHE HAIII SWEET NONNIE!!!!! cmere lemme smooch you real sloppy MMWWWAAAHHH. love love love u, here’s mean!abby when you’re on your period…

it would start with her in the middle of her workout at the gym. she feels her phone buzz in her pocket so she pulls it out to glance at it, seeing a message notification from you but deciding she’s too busy read it. so she shoves it back into her pocket and ignores it.

you stare at your phone screen frustratedly, hormones running wild, the dull cramps in your stomach only adding to your dismay. every text you sent was met with a small gray delivered under it. why the hell is she ignoring you?

after a few minutes of groaning into your pillow and squeezing your teddy bear in agony, you decide to fuck it all and call her, something that was reserved only for the most extreme emergencies. as expected, she picks up on the fourth ring with an annoyed “is it an emergency?”

“YES, abby!! why haven’t you answered my texts?” you yell. your hips feel like they’re being viciously yanked apart, tits so sore you yelp at the feeling of your t-shirt brushing against them, and you’re almost certain there’s a giant bloodstain under you.

“what’s wrong?” she asks, panicking and throwing all of her gym equipment into her bag. “do you need me to come home?” and she doesn’t wait for a response to this, she’s already throwing her gym bag into her car and speeding off.

“everything hurts.” you moan, voice cracking as tears start to spill involuntarily from your eyes. “my back and my stomach and my hips and my tits and—” you get cut off by your own sobbing, feeling completely paralyzed as you lay alone and cold. abby is a fucking savior right now, assuring you she’s on her way and she’ll do anything in her power to make sure you’re comfortable once she gets home.

it takes a surprisingly short time for her to get back to your apartment, being greeted by two hungry kittens meowing up at her with their huge eyes. she almost steps right on them as they trail right in front of her feet, perking their tails up and nuzzling against her legs.

finally, she stumbles into the bedroom, finding you curled up under a few different blankets with your head stuffed in her pillow. “baby?” she asks, her voice soothing you momentarily but unfortunately not enough to stop the assault on your emotions right now.

you attempt to turn over and face her, but a sharp pain causes you squirm and roll back into your comfortable nest. two strong arms wrap themselves around you, scooping you up and hauling you to the bathroom. “the sheets, abby.” you moan. she ignores this, peeling off your clothes while she waits for the shower to heat up.

“i’ll be right back,” she whispers. “holler if you need anything.” and you’re left alone to shower by yourself, the hot, steaming water relaxing your muscles and providing the sweetest relief. abby gathers she sheets, scrubbing the small stain with cold water and throwing them into the wash with a douse of stain remover.

abby isn’t a great chef, but she’ll do anything for her baby while she’s in pain. after dumping a few scoops of kibble into each of the girls’ bowls, she grabs a box of pancake mix and gets to work. it takes a few tries for her to make one that’s actually presentable, hands shaking as she tries to maneuver the half cooked batter onto the spatula, but she eventually gets the hang of it. she slides the ugly, torn up pancakes onto her own plate, saving the pretty ones for you, of course.

you tug on one of abby’s torn up t-shirts and a pair of soft sweatpants, tiptoeing out of the bedroom and slumping down on the couch. abby approaches you with a plate full of golden pancakes drowning in syrup, and you notice for the first time how hungry you are. “here, you can pop some pills after you eat.”

“i didn’t know you were a chef.” you giggle, placing a weak kiss on her cheek as a thank you. she rolls her eyes, “yeah, yeah. don’t flatter me.” the two of you eat in almost silence. abby turned on some stupid docuseries she’s been watching. in your opinion, it’s boring as hell, but you’ll watch it as long as she’s happy.

both of the cats curl up on her lap once you’re done. of course she’s their favorite, you curse mentally. abby pulls you closer, wrapping a warm blanket around you and drooping her head on top of yours. “sorry i wasn’t there this morning.” she whispers. “you should’ve called me sooner, though.”

you laugh drowsily, ready to get some quality sleep now that you’re finally comfortable. “you’re a dick sometimes, i love you.”

[luvwestwood]

❝ DOUBLE PENETRATED ❞ - Choso Kamo, Suguru Geto

— YOUR OLD HIGH-SCHOOL CLASSMATES DO YOUR NIPPLE PIERCINGS.

₊˚༊*·˚ warnings. nsfw(18+), piercer! choso/suguru, threesome, throat-fucking, resolved sexual tension, choso has a tongue piercing, suguru lip piercing, oral sex, orgasm denial, spitting, face slapping, dp (v/anal), creampies, cum eating, taking polaroids while fucking, filth, MENTIONS OF PIERCING PROCEDURES!

₊˚༊*·˚ notes. I fear that I may have gone crazy with the fucking. choso turned out to be the one with the tongue piercing, but dw.. sug has a lip piercing. cause I wanted to focus on suguru more, after some of you loved my previous piece about him! this is a repost, I experienced a few formatting issues. ty for 900! <3 s/o to my dear rya for coming up with this amazing title 😭

4,562 words (15m read)

Finally, it had come after all; the day you were to get your nipples pierced. Standing in front of the studio, you take a deep breath— half of you wanting to back out, but the other just screaming 'fuck it.'

As soon as you enter, a chime goes off above your head, the man behind the counter hauling his eyelids up to see who it was.

He seems familiar, you thought. Long, raven colored hair; and those piercings... "..Suguru?"

His head cocks forward; like some meerkat, "Is that.. who I think it is?" Suguru hops off the stool, stepping away from the counter. Bringing you in for a big warm hug, he pulls away; taking a good look at you as he does. A silver glint catching your eye; it seems that he had gotten a lip piercing done, a metal ring hugging the flesh.

"Damn, you look good. I haven't seen you since what, high school grad'?" he warmly smiles, his forearm still resting on your back. Both you and Suguru had left high school on a good note; he had tend to hang out with the more, known people in school— although he was someone you could tolerate.

Flustered, you divert your gaze; Suguru walking back around before you could speak. "..Yeah, I never knew that you worked here," moving closer towards the countertop, you rested against your two hands, leaning slightly.

"Mhm, you probably remember Choso? He works here too. I mean, he owns this place." Suguru's eyes busy scanning the bookings, you blink frantically, trying to remember who 'Choso' was. Choso Kamo, perhaps? He adds on, "..You coming in for an appointment? For what?"

"..Choso? That's not really ringing a bell. And uh, I'm here to get my.. nips done..." your voice trails off slightly, embarrassed that your old high school classmate sees you after years; but here, in the middle of getting your tits pierced.

He smiles slightly, alarm bells ringing at those two exact words coming out of your mouth. "Ah.. Choso's gonna be heartbroken for sure if he finds out that you've completely forgotten him." He marks your name off the list of bookings, standing up straight. "Being that you were so quiet back in high school, I never expected you to get your tits done."

Warmth rushing through your body, you nervously let out a laugh, "..People change, I guess.." You purse your lips, mentally slapping yourself at how awkward the conversation has turned.

"Well said, how 'bout you come along with me. Choso's gonna be helping you out today." He steps out of the counter once again, gesturing you to follow behind him.

You both walk through some curtains leading to the back of the studio, Suguru bringing you into a room with dark interior; a leather piercing bed taking up space in the middle of the room.

Another man was sitting on a wheeled stool beside a counter, his back turned to you. Seems like he's busy sterilising some equipment..

"Cho," Suguru calls out, the man glances behind his shoulder, fully spinning the stool around in surprise. "Look who I've got with me!"

Choso's eyes widen, mouth gaped after having not see you for a few years. He looks, so different. Too different. His hair a bit longer, but he decided to keep it down. It was no longer tied up in two pigtails like back in high school; both him and Suguru have turned into.. Good looking men; real men..

"..Choso?" you quietly call out , a type of tension lingering throughout the air— a room with two guys and one girl about to get her tits pierced by her old high school classmates, ones that she last expected to see.

Suguru slouches onto the sofa in the corner, hands holding a polaroid camera. "Our old classmate here has come today to get her tits done," He sticks one eye into the viewfinder, snapping a quick photo of his surroundings. "Also- If you don't mind, we tend to take polaroids of our customers after the finished piercing. Your face won't be caught in it, don't worry."

"Uh yeah, that's fine." You flashed a smile, before placing your coat and bag on the armrest beside Suguru, behind you could hear Choso finally speaking.

"..If you wanna just take a seat right here, and make yourself comfortable." He pats on the leather bed beside him, Choso stealing a quick stare down your body, noticing what has changed about you over these past few years. Pretty face like always, a fatter ass.. and..

"..Kay," hestitant, you scoot yourself onto the bed, leaning your head against the soft cushion. You breathe deeply, nervous about the fact that they were literally about to see your tits. But hey, it's their job, right? ..Why is Suguru still here though?

Choso takes note of your anxious demeanor, adjusting the lamp above you. He goes and slips on a pair of black latex gloves, before spinning back around; stumbling with his choice of words. You dart your eyes to the Choso making an array of strange noises, until he finally knows what to say.

"I'm gonna need you to uh, take that off." He points a finger at your shirt, his hand withdrawing immediately. You quickly understood what he meant, sitting yourself up on the bed.

"Right, yeah.." Your hands like frost from feeling timid, they graze against your skin as you took off your shirt; you had chosen not to wear a bra today, as it felt like it made sense. Your nipples instantly go erect from the cold touch of your fingers.

...And a nice pair of tits. That's the last thing Choso was meant to say. He swallows some spit, offering to take your shirt to keep it safely to the side, Suguru looking at you with the corner of his eye, grinning.

You lay back on the bed, the cold leather causing you to shiver all over again. Choso wheels the stool closer to you, his hand holding an antibacterial wipe. "..Alright, I think we'll go with a straight barbell. It's one of the safest options." Nodding in response, he goes on with the procedure.

He gives the surface of your tits a quick wipe, making them jiggle slightly— Choso tries his best to not let his mind trail off somewhere else. He's pierced multiple before but, something about you just had him whipped.. Especially after not seeing you for ages.

He looks at you for a moment before leaning in, trying not to smile at you all nervous underneath him; feeling your body tense under his touch as he firmly grabs your tits to leave markings with the pen.

"..Just relax yourself for me," he says, lowly, your feet stopping their kicking down the end of the bed. You study his face closely as he focuses on leaving perfect marks over your nipples to indicate where the piercing will go, his hot breath slightly fanning over your skin. You could hear Suguru in the background humming to the music on the radio, tapping away on his phone, and the same polaroid resting on his lap.

Choso pulls away allowing you to take a look at where he had drawn the markings. It took him a lot of strength to keep himself from latching his mouth onto your breasts then and there. "Approved?" He clicks the cap of the marker back on, tossing it to the side.

"..Approved," You give him a small, affirming smile as he gets the other tools ready. A clamp in his one hand, and a needle in the other, he holds them out.

"It's gonna hurt like a bitch for a few seconds, but it will be over before you know it." Reassuring you, you could only nod once more; licking your dried lips as you had ran out of words to say.

You try not to shut your eyes as you feel the cold clamp clutch onto your nipple, thinking that it would be bad etiquette if you did. Instead, you turn your head to the side, seeing Suguru still relaxed on the couch. He grins, but before you know it; the stinging of the needle hits you, a mewl coming out of your mouth.

"Good girl, just breathe," he coos, "I'm almost done with the other one." You bite down on your lip, certain that you had left a bruise behind. What felt like more than minutes, the stinging comes to a halt; numbing taking its place. You could feel Choso lay his gloved hands on your bare stomach, letting you know he had finished. "All done, you took that like a champ."

Turning your head back to it's original position, your eyes travel down to your chest, seeing the metal barbels inserted into both nipples. You smile, Suguru coming close to the bed with the polaroid.

"Oh, they look good." Suguru puts out, "I'm jealous of whoever gets to see these." His lips curl into a smirk as his eye goes near the viewfinder. You disregard his comment, busy looking at your freshly pierced tits.

"You happy with them?" Choso asks, wiping away at some equipment.

"I love them, thanks, Choso." You say, itching to poke at them but both men attempt to grab your wrist, causing you to look up; your eyes alternating between the two.

"Don't be touching them all the time," Suguru says sternly, meanwhile Choso on the other hand says something completely different.

"If.. you know, someone wants to, latch onto them- don't allow it," Choso continues, his blood curdling at the thought of someone else taking his own work for their pleasure. "..It needs to fully heal."

Cautiously, you nod, retracting your hand to lay it down on your side. Suguru switches up the topic, excited with the camera in his hand. "Ready to take a few pics? I'd say smile, but you aren't in them anyway."

"Of course," you sit up on the bed, perking your tits out as Suguru focused the lens on them. Choso bunches your hair up in his fist, bringing the strands behind your back so that the camera could get a clearer view of your chest. His grip delicate, but your stomach churns at how his long, slender fingers scratch off your nape.

You blink at the bright flash going off, the film peeking out of the slit at the top. Suguru takes it, flopping it around in the air for the picture to come through. He sets it down on the table nearby, with an intention to take more.

"Could you move yourself a little bit to the left?" Suguru's eye still stuck in the viewfinder, he orders you around with a gesture; his only sight of you being through the lens.

"..Like this?" you respond, after scooting slightly to the side; your hair still in Choso's grip, which accidentally feels like a harsh tug as soon as you move away— immediately, he lets go.

Choso mutters quietly under his breath, "Ah..- sorry."

Suguru brings the camera away from his face, his free hand suddenly grabbing onto the side of your waist; positioning you like a delicate doll. Your breath hitches, taken aback by his sudden movements.

He puts the viewfinder up to his eye again, snapping another valuable photo of you. The film comes out of the slit again, Suguru carrying out the same routine he had done with the previous picture.

Exhausted, you lay back down on the bed; though Suguru sees this as a perfect opportunity for another pic. "Hmm... Just- stay like that, yeah?" He says, the bright flash filling your vision with white.

You giggle, feeling as if you were a model taking boudoir, fully naked. You arch your back against the leather playfully, your chest protruding and extremely close to the lens, Suguru smiling and continuing to take more photos.

Choso remains silent as he slips the gloves off, a painful strain forming against his pants as he watched you pose so lewdly in front of him, you weren't the same girl as the one he knew back in high school.

Multiple photos scatter the table; Suguru having to go and fetch more film from the drawers.

Both of you had moved to the sofa in the corner, multiple pictures of you kneeling, biting your finger with your tits perked out to the camera; all pieces of film had covered parts of the floor. You were having a bit too much fun.

Choso, his tongue pokes the inside of his cheek. Refusing to be provoked, he stands up from the stool; making his way over to the sofa to take a seat beside you.

Suguru praises you, picking up a few of the photos that had finished processing. He remains anchored between your legs, towering over your body that was kneeled on the sofa. "They came out great, don't you think?" He holds one closely for you to see, your head tilting to take a peek.

"That one looks good," you point, Suguru approvingly nodding in response; although Choso makes a sudden comment, one that caught you by surprise.

Toying with the ends of your hair, Choso twirls them around his finger. The slight touch from his fingertips sending chills down your spine. "..So, who's gonna be lucky enough to see them?" he says, calmly; his voice not showing one bit of repentance. He was certain with his choice of words.

Confused, you turn to him, suppressing a titter. "..No one, I just really wanted this for myself.." you say, Choso nodding slowly; feeling slight relief at your answer.

“Probably can’t wait to show them off, huh?” Choso’s words sharp, digging into you like daggers; “..Just walking around, tits poking through your shirt, so everyone could see..”

All of a sudden, he yanks your hair back, and you let out a wail; your eyes meeting with Suguru’s above you. Seeing him grinning at you all helpless from the top, his hand reaches down to rest on your face; thumb caressing your cheekbone.

Looking at Choso— your eye moving to the side, his expression blank; but clearly, he was enjoying every bit of this.

“..I’d say we put her in her place,” Suguru says, his voice growing low; observing how easily you succumb to their touch. You could feel Choso’s grip let loose in your hair, and instead, his lips find their way to your neck; a hum crawling from his throat.

You whimper, Choso leaving a trail of wet kisses down the soft skin of your neck, softly gasping as he managed to move you around, laying you down against the edge of the sofa.

“W-wait, Choso..” you whispered, his lips moving from your chest down to your stomach, being careful to not meddle with your freshly done nipples, his hands roaming all over the gummy flesh on your waist.

You watch as he goes down on you, until a sudden grab at your chin lures you away, “Up here baby,” he purrs, your eyes misty— Suguru’s lips lock onto yours, tongues intertwining with each other as he groans into the kiss. You manage to swipe at his metal lip ring in the midst of it; the kiss so filthy and disgusting, nothing but neediness controlling it.

Choso on the other end pulling at your pants, allowing you to shimmy them off; leaving you in your underwear. Cock harder than ever, he licks against the material, the metal orb on his tongue poking through— he had a tongue piercing? He just couldn't wait to have you. A wet stain remains on the cotton, as he nibbles at the fabric before tearing it apart fully.

You let out a breathy moan into the kiss with Suguru, the ball on Choso’s tongue prodding at your clit, he alternates between licking and sucking. Occasionally, he plants kisses on the inside of your thighs; excessively groaning as he takes in all of you.

His large hands wrap around the plump of your legs, bringing you closer to his face; his grunts tickling you each time he slurped, eating you out as if you were his last meal.

Everything going on felt sinful; two men playing with you at the same time, but oh—did you want more.

Suguru pulls away, the camera placed on the ground; a long string of saliva connecting you two. Hands trembling as he reaches down for the buckle on his belt, undoing it swiftly— not fully pulling his pants down but instead grabbing for his cock; letting it hang freely from his boxers.

Your eyes frantically blinking at the size, so girthy, and long; you grab onto and tug at Choso’s strands as you felt him fuck into you with the tip of his tongue, your mouth gaping— Suguru seeing this as an advantage to stuff your mouth full of his cock.

A guttural sound crawling out of his throat, the warmth that your mouth enclosed over his cock doing his head in. His hips move back and forth, head falling back as he dug his fingers into your scalp, bobbing your head up and down his length. “Fuck.. just like that,” he groans, looking down at you taking him whole. “Good girl, how about we train this throat of yours..”

Suguru pushes into your throat as deep as he can go, your eyes brimming with tears; the tip of your nose tickled by his pubes— “Just breathe baby, breathe..” He says so easily with a devilish grin, enjoying the pure panic on your face.

He stills in your throat for a few seconds before completely pulling your mouth off his cock— spit running down your chin, his entire length glistening with it.

You let out a cry, your head crashing back into the sofa as you feel Choso stick two digits into you, his tongue relentlessly gliding over your clit as he does so, enjoying every single one of your desperate mewls.

Suguru rewards you with a slap on your cheek, a stinging mark stays behind. Lightly tapping on the side of your face, he compels you to open your mouth; dropping an orb of spit into the hole. “Swallow it,” and you obey, sticking out your tongue to prove it. “So obedient..”

You could feel yourself getting wetter and wetter by the second, before Choso hauls his head up from between your legs. Suguru’s hands clawed in your scalp; allowing him to move you around like a ragdoll— his strength making you stand up from the sofa.

Your head tilts to one side, Suguru leaning closely to your ear; “Go and give Cho' a ride, he’ll be upset if you leave him out.”

Trying to peer your eyes down to take a look at what Choso was up to, you see him struggling to undo the buttons on his pants, so eager to spend yet another minute with you.

As soon as he gets them off, he takes his thick cock in his grasp; giving it a small jerk, spitting into his hand before rubbing the slobber all over.

“..Go on, make him feel good,” Suguru whispers, pushing you closer towards Choso— you land in his lap, mind-fucked; you immediately grab his face, leaning in for yet another sloppy kiss, Choso melting into your touch.

His hands trying to position his tip at your entrance, he pulls away from the kiss for a moment; “Come on.. Sit on it,” his eyes look up into yours, almost as if he were begging.

You glance behind you, sinking down onto his cock without thinking twice. You clutch onto the fabric of his shirt, wrinkling it all together. Choso places a few kisses on your jaw, his eyes squeezing shut at the feeling of your tight walls closing in on him.

“Doing so good for me,” he whispers against your skin, “Start to move when you can, just be mindful of your piercings.”

You nod, furrowing your brows and lips parting, foreheads leaning against each other as you start to bounce up and down, his entire length filling you up and stretching your hole out, you endlessly chant his name like a prayer.

Choso’s cold hands running through your hair, trying moving loose strands away from your face. A snap goes off behind you, a familiar white flash blinding your sights— Suguru taking a photo of this pornographic moment, he takes the film and tosses it onto the ground before bringing his attention back to you.

A hand snakes onto your shoulder from behind, possibly Suguru. A pair of hands belonging to Choso resting on your hips as you moved up and down his cock, his head falling heavy into the sofa’s cushion in pure gratification.

The hand on your shoulder rushes to your mouth, covering it as you felt another cock enter your ass; a string of muffled moans trapped against the palm of Suguru’s hand.

Two cocks fucking into you at the same time, your eyes roll to the back of your head; feeling both tips in your guts, Suguru’s cock pounding into you harder than Choso’s.

You were just full of dick, and you loved it, Choso fighting the urge to hold onto your tits bouncing in his face; knowing it would be a bad idea to. He didn’t want to risk it, possibly infecting anything.

Your ass rippling against Suguru’s pelvis, you let out a long, laboured moan, your toes curling at the sensation. Suguru’s hand reaches under your chin, his voice almost mokcing you. The tips of his fingers tap against your jaw again, “You love being stuffed with our cocks, don’t you?”

You could only nod, your eyes closing as you indulged in the pleasure; mind completely blank— fear arousing in you from how feral Suguru has become; but it turns you on even more.

“Use your words, tell me you love it. Tell me.” Suguru firmly grips onto your face, moving it in all sorts of directions.

You hiccup, tears stained with hot tears. “I-I love your cocks so much, I.. I need more,” managing to choke out, he somewhat seems satisfied enough with your answer.

He peels away from you, and so does his cock, your asshole completely stretched out; your holes aching. You try to stamp your legs, squirming from all the different things coming at you .

Choso slides out of you too, his heavy cock slapping onto his abdomen. He didn't allow himself to cum. Nor did he let you. “You hear that Suguru? The slut said she wants more.” Fucked like a whore, you felt empty and lost without any cock inside of you.

Choso pushes you aside on the sofa, getting up and making his way towards the end— Suguru swapping positions with him; this time he aligned his tip with your hole, taking over as he fucked you from behind.

Suguru’s hand presses down on your back, forcing you into a more defined arch, his hips thrusting into you mercilessly, practically fucking you into the sofa. You cry into the cushions, pleading him to slow down; your hand reaching back. Suguru snapping a quick photo of his cock moving in and out of you— getting a perfect shot of you bent over in front of him.

The crisp sound of the film leaving the slit rings through your ears, before you could hear the photo falling onto the ground.

Choso guides your head back up, bringing you to eye level with his cock, forcing your mouth back down his length. He was on the verge of losing his mind too— did he want to keep you to himself forever, so he could fuck you every hour, day, week.

You were being stuffed both ends; gagging noises emitting from your throat as Choso fucked into your front like a flesh-light, Suguru on the other end drilling into you like a mad man. His leg props up onto the sofa for leverage, allowing himself to rut into you deeper than before.

You whimper all over Choso’s cock, buckets of spit spilling down his shaft, then to the ground as he used your mouth as he desired, your holes at both end not being shown any remorse.

A cacophony of moans and skin slapping echoes throughout the room, along with the faint melody coming from the radio.

“I-I’m gonna cum in this pussy,” Suguru whines, his nails digging into the skin on your hips, clutching onto the flesh trying to fucking you back onto his cock as he chased his orgasm.

A creamy ring forms at his shaft, his hands reaching down to your clit to lazily rub circles, urging you to cum as well. “Let it out baby, m-make a mess all over me.”

You grip onto the sofa’s arm rests, letting out a long groan over Choso’s cock again, your body spasming as your orgasms washed over you. Your legs shake and jitter, both feet kicking in overstimulation.

Choso pulls you by the hair off his cock, red tip slapping against your lips as he jerked himself off to his high, forcing his length back into your mouth— ropes of warm cum coated every inch of your throat.

He slides himself out for a second, the remaining spurts of his load decorating your face. “Pretty..” He breathes out, chest heaving. Choso leans in, nastily kissing you on the lips, getting a taste of his own cum off your tongue as he does.

The sight so lewd, both your saliva and remnants of his load trickling down your mouth. You try and swallow the rest, Choso smiling, so proud.

Suguru ends up bottoming into you, his hips rocking deeply in rhythm with each time his balls tighten; your brains fucked to the point that you could only think about cock.

He spills his own load into your womb, completely filling you up with his thick cum that was bound to leak out of you as soon as he pulls out; in fact, you were stuffed with cum on both ends.

Suguru strikes a spank on your ass, tenderly massaging the flesh afterwards, spreading your cheeks as he slowly slides out; cock heavily hanging as his eyes watched his cum drip out of your stretched hole.

He reaches for the camera, taking one last snapshot of your fucked up holes as a sentimental memory, grabbing the film and tossing the camera to the side.

Suguru bends down towards your pussy, licking up a bit of his cum out of you before mixing it with some saliva, spitting the ball back into your pussy, rubbing it everywhere with the help of his fingers.

Choso walks around, slouching back into the sofa; Suguru gently seating you down beside him, being mindful of your trembling legs.

All three of you remain seated, focused on trying to calm you down; the studio was littered with film everywhere, the room stinking of pure, filthy sex— bodies warm, sticky, and covered with sweat. Everyone trying to recollect themselves; faces blushed with red.

You could feel Choso’s hands run through your hair, remembering how hard they were both tugging on your scalp earlier. Suguru also rubbing your thigh up and down, soothing your nerves. Your body ached, completely fucked out of your skin.

“..I think we should have you in for a weekly dick appointment instead.”

⊹ ࣪ ˖ ⤳ © luvwestwood ‘24. all works are owned by me, and originally come from my own head. please do not re-post on a third party platform without my permission!

⊹ ࣪ ˖ ⤳ as always, thank you for the love on each and every one of my posts. 🎀🩷

[luvwestwood masterlist]

[formulawolff]

xx. dog days are over - t.w.

pairing: female driver!reader x toto wolff

word count: 6.2k

warnings: cursing, toto being a mess, discussion of injury, mentions of a car accident, some tension between team principals, age gap relationships, teasing, slight angst, mostly real fluffy shit hehe, yadayadayada

a/n: ummm.. how did we get here? well.. this is the last chapter of my baby :’) i really hope you enjoy the ending! i really am so proud of this series and what is to come! <3

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a muffled voice floods your ears. 

blinking, your lids open, weighed down by this heaviness.

there’s a buzzing pain in your skull, muscles searing with a fiery sensation, burning as you prop yourself up. your helmet is off, tossed approximately three or so feet away. 

˖⁺‧₊˚♡˚₊‧⁺˖✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧˖⁺‧₊˚♡˚₊‧⁺˖✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧˖⁺‧₊˚♡˚₊‧⁺˖✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧˖⁺‧₊˚♡˚₊‧⁺˖

you pant for just a moment, shaking your head as the air billows into your lungs. the action pours life back into you, leveling your racing thoughts, your blurry field of vision coming into focus.

alex hovers above you, concern plastered across his features as you stir, coughing slightly.

“what the fuck happ–”

his arms are around you, bringing you tightly against his chest. sobs wrack his torso, his head buried in the crook of your neck.

“holy fuck. h-holy fuck.”

“alex,” as you blink, your line of sight falls on your crumpled car, how the metal curled against the barrier, pieces scattered all around, littering the asphalt, “w-what happened?”

“there was a crash,” his voice is eerily quiet, “i’m not quite sure how it happened or who caused it, but you came flying towards the barrier. you rolled a few times. you were unconscious when i–”

another cry rings out, the driver burying his head in his hands. carefully, you squeeze him against you, “did you–”

you’re cut off as the medics jog up to the scene, an ambulance parked close by. 

“are you okay?”

“yeah!” you nod, “i’m fine.”

“we’re going to have to transport you to the nearest hospital,” the paramedic kneels to your right, “even if you show no signs of external injuries, we would still like to transport you. make sure that everything checks out.”

“do i have to?” you arch a brow, “i feel fine.”

“it’s just a precaution,” the paramedic’s voice is light, laced with a gentleness, “let’s get you on the gurney.”

“can i come with?” alex’s voice sounds to your left.

“don’t you have a race to finish–”

“i’m coming with,” alex repeats, his tone hardened. he rises to his feet, offering you his hands, “come on, let’s go get you checked out.”

“what about james?” you press, accepting his gesture, “what about your points? the fia? alex, you could get in so much trouble–”

“it’s one race.” he scoffs, helping you onto the gurney, “i think i can face the repercussions of leaving one race. i’m a big boy, i can handle it. besides, i’m your emergency contact. i need to be there with you. who’s going to call your parents? toto?”

toto. 

oh god. 

you eyes dart towards the pits, desperately searching for that mercedes logo. yet, it’s too late, as the paramedics start to haul you into the ambulance, alex following in suit. he clambers into the back end, taking your gloved hand into his. 

“you have no idea how fucking scary that was.”

“well that’s the perk of being a bad bitch,” a giggle bubbles up in your throat, “and you know what that perk is?”

“you can’t kill a bad bitch,” the corners of his lips tug upward, fighting a smile.

“what about your phone?” you nudge the driver, “how are you going to get ahold of everyone?”

“simple,” he leans back, his head resting against the equipment, “once we arrive at the hospital and get you situated, i’ll use their phone to call lily. i’ll tell her to ask for access to my driver’s room. you’re lucky you left your phone with mine.”

“we can thank james for that,” you exhale, your body relaxing as the medic slips a pulse oximeter on your index finger. 

the adrenaline was beginning to dissolve, crumbling away to pain. sharp, aching, pain. the paramedic senses your shift in demeanor, clearing his throat.

“feeling some pain?”

“yes,” you wince as you adjust in the limited space of the gurney, “all over.”

“anywhere specific?”

“my neck,” instinctively, your hand reaches upward, rubbing the sensitive area, “i would say it’s a six out of ten there. the rest of my body is more like a two out of ten. i figure it’s just from the impact?”

“exactly,” a chuckle flows from the paramedic’s lips, “although this probably isn’t your first crash, and it won’t be your last, that pain is normal. especially from an impact-related injury. you’ll probably ache for a couple of days.

we’re mainly going to get you in for a ct scan. make sure you’re not bleeding anywhere internally. they’ll probably run a few other tests. i’m not the doctor, but i’m sure you have a concussion.” 

“will they keep me overnight?” the inquiry tumbles out, heart racing as you the anticipation builds, the paramedic sucking in a breath. 

“they probably will. just for observation.”

“great,” you fold your arms across your chest, a pout forming, “how am i supposed to give insight on my near-death experience if i’m stuck at the hospital?”

“don’t worry,” the paramedic shoots you a wink, “i could keep you company if you need it.”

“and she has a boyfriend i’m calling as soon as we get settled. he’ll be more than happy to keep her company.”

the iciness in alex’s tone takes you by surprise, the driver glaring daggers across the gurney. the paramedic shoots you an inquiring glance, earning a shrug from you in response. 

“what can i say? he’s right. and this man is probably losing his shit right now because he can’t be here with me.”

although your tone was lighthearted, in your heart you were well aware of the truth. 

the team principal was more than likely seconds away from losing his shit, barely maintaining his composure. 

and who knew how much longer he would keep it together before cracking completely. 

˖⁺‧₊˚♡˚₊‧⁺˖✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧˖⁺‧₊˚♡˚₊‧⁺˖✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧˖⁺‧₊˚♡˚₊‧⁺˖✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧˖⁺‧₊˚♡˚₊‧⁺˖

“toto!” 

lewis hamilton pushes through the mass of mercedes crew, “toto!”

although there was much to celebrate today with the conclusion of the race, the british driver was well aware of the harsh reality. 

the team principal’s mind was nowhere focused on the team, his drivers, nor their accomplishments. 

he picks out the large stature of toto wolff, the team principal pacing back and forth, george situated in a chair, a hand holding his chin. there’s no clear emotion across george’s face, but there is a haze of pure and utter fear swathing the team principal, strings of curses flying from his tongue. 

“not doing too hot, is he?” lewis clicks his tongue.

“not at all,” george mutters, shaking his head slightly, “poor bloke is driving himself mad over here. i’m afraid he’s going to start a reign of terror over at the haas paddock.” 

“who caused the accident?” lewis arches a brow, licking his lips.

“hülkenberg,” george tuts, rolling his eyes, “it was a complete accident, really. toto has only reviewed the footage a hundred times or so in the last hour. he thinks it was on purpose, but really it was just a mistake. we know it happens all the time.”

“well,” lewis begins, a sly smirk forming, “when his precious angel is involved, it was no accident. hey, lover boy!” 

toto swivels on his heel, bearing a tight-lipped frown, “what?”

“any updates on your babygirl? do i need to drive you over to the hospital myself? we can storm in and demand her room number.”

“alex texted me about half an hour ago,” george answers, fishing his phone from his pocket, “she’s getting some tests done but we should be able to visit soon.”

“you’re going?” 

“why wouldn’t i?” george shrugs, scrolling along, “that’s my future teammate. i want to make sure she’s okay.” 

“aww georgie,” a chuckle rumbles in the driver’s chest, “are we all going to become besties? a little trio?”

“well your days here are numbered,” george counters, “we won’t be a trio for long.”

“just because i’m going to ferrari doesn’t mean i can’t be your bestie,” lewis puckers his lips, “so, what’s the word? are we going to the hospital soon or what?”

“you’re coming too?” toto’s voice from behind startles the driver, earning a flinch. 

“holy shit!” lewis clutches his chest, “you about gave me a bloody heart attack!”

“you’re not the only one today,” the team principal inhales sharply, “i’m just shocked i kept it together throughout the debrief.”

well, that was not necessarily true.

although george had managed a podium, lewis in p4, toto was visibly distressed. his shirt, normally wrinkled after the chaos of a race day, seemed even more disheveled, his hair a haphazard, fluffy mess. even his piercing, eagle-like gaze was filled with nothing but anguish, an anxious, darkened hue. 

his voice shook throughout the entire post-race debrief. he could barely formulate coherent responses while he was interviewed by the various media outlets. during the press conference, you could just tell that he was nowhere on this planet, his attention barely present throughout the entirety of the event. when asked about the williams driver, the team principal short-circuited, completely shutting down any and every reporter that came near. he even cussed out a journalist who inquired about the driver, asking if he knew her current status.

it was very clear that the team principal was on the brink of a complete breakdown. 

but lewis was not going to mention that.

not the time nor the place. 

which, not like he could really blame his boss. 

he loved that girl, oh so dearly.

and to watch, completely helpless as she barreled into those barriers? holding his breath as alex held her unconscious body, pleading for the medic? with there being no communication regarding her condition as they hauled her away in the ambulance, how was he supposed to feel?

without a doubt, he would be a nervous wreck, pacing violently back and forth. 

or curled up in a ball on the floor, sobbing. 

“is she even allowed visitors?” george’s brow furrow. 

“if not i’ll just pull the ‘i’m lewis hamilton and very famous’ card,” lewis waves a hand, “it’ll work like a charm.”

“are you going to fuck a nurse while you’re at it?” george teases, springing to his feet, “well, i am going to have carmen make arrangements for a ride to the hospital. alex says that she’s doing okay. lily is already there with him. he said he would give us more details when we arrive. are you riding with me or toto, lew?”

lewis shifts in place, turning to toto, “how are you getting there?”

“theodore is driving me,” the team principal shoves an arm in his jacket, glancing at his phone, “he’s going to be arriving in a few minutes. i do not care who you ride with. you can come with me. it is up to you.”

the british driver bites on his lip, chewing at it momentarily, “well, i guess i’ll ride with you, toto. you look like you may need some company.”

“well then,” the team principal lets out a shaky breath, “let’s get going. i’m not doing any further press conferences, team meetings, or events this evening. it will all have to wait.”

“look at you,” lewis whistles, following his team principal and fellow driver as they stroll out of the garage, making their way through the paddock.

“everyone, everyone! make way for the knight in shining armor! he’s on his way to save his damsel in distress at the emergency room!”

meanwhile, at the montreal sacred heart hospital, a driver sits in her bed, fiddling with the fabric of her sheet. two visitors hover in the chairs beside the bed. one flips through the stations on the television, the other scrolling through her phone.

“you have no idea how terrifying that was,” a voice pipes up, trembling slightly, “i was so scared that it was a lot worse than it really was. when alex pulled you out of that car, i swear the entire circuit was holding their breath.”

“i thought i was going to start throwing up in my helmet,” another voice chimes in, “i have never had that much adrenaline in my life. i think that was one of the few times my body was truly in fight or flight mode.”

“thank god you didn’t start running away,” you fight a yawn, the exhaustion slowly creeping in. 

or was it the muscle relaxers? you couldn’t quite tell. 

the entire crash was a blur. there were no minute details, as it all just was just one big foggy, blobby, mess in your brain.

the only thing you could remember were the memories of toto as you flew through the air, propelling towards that barrier. 

once you were all settled in your temporary room at the hospital, alex filled you in on what occurred. 

from what he witnessed, he stated that nico hülkenberg of haas had a malfunction with the car, causing him to start viciously spinning out of control. unfortunately, you were an innocent victim, as his car hit yours with such a violent force it sent you rolling. nico was able to regain control of the car before crashing out, leaving you as the one who suffered at the hands of the haas engineers. 

the fia was not going to punish nico, as it was not intentional. 

which, was fair. you could understand that. it would have been a completely different story if he was trying to overtake and pulled a sketchy move. unfortunately, it was just the dangerous aspect of life as a formula one driver.

you were going to crash the car. sometimes more than once in your career. 

even if it was not entirely your fault. 

however, there was nothing more than you wanted than to get behind the wheel of a car. your car, and finish the race. 

too late for that, though. far too late.

it was nearing nine p.m., and visiting hours were going to conclude here soon. 

since alex was at the top of your emergency contacts list, he was granted access to stay the night with you. which, you didn’t mind. he had been extremely gentle with you since the crash, tending to your every need. 

he had lily bring all of your favorite treats, packed your trusty stuffed animal, and even ensured that all your jewelry was safely tucked away in your overnight bag. 

additionally, he called your parents for you, explaining the series of events between the start of the race and up to the moment you were wheeled into your room. although everything had checked out, they wanted to keep you overnight for observation. 

after all, it wasn’t everyday you were colliding into a rigid surface at nearly one hundred miles an hour. 

approximately five minutes ago, you received a text from toto stating that theodore was pulling up to the entrance of the hospital. lewis was with him, carmen and george about ten minutes behind them. 

although they had left around the same time, somehow toto had gotten there first. 

you almost didn’t want to know how fast the car was going.

“you should have seen the way i was tearing at the car,” alex remarks, putting his hands behind his head, “i felt like goddamn superman.”

“he sure was,” lily lets out an airy giggle, “speaking of which, where is your–”

“guten abend,” an oh so familiar voice interrupts, thick with the accent you adored so dearly. 

your head swivels towards the entrance of the room, toto standing in the doorframe. in his hands is a bouquet of flowers, a bag slung over his shoulder. the moment your eyes meet, he softens, his lower lip quivering. 

“and he brought a friend!” lewis chirps, poking his head out from behind the team principal, “how are you feeling?”

“tired,” you blink, face scrunching into yet another yawn, “they gave me some muscle relaxers for my soreness.”

toto crosses over to the bed, pulling up a chair. placing the flowers on the nearest table, he sets his bag on the floor. although the actions were simple, it felt like minutes until two hands found yours, bringing it to his lips. 

“ich hoffe es geht dir gut. die blumen sind nicht die besten, aber sie reichen aus.”

“mir geht es nicht so gut,” waves of drowsiness crash over, your head meeting the pillow as toto chuckles, kissing each one of your knuckles. 

“zumindest hast du medikamente und gute freunde.”

“ich liebe dich,” you whisper, tears welling up as he leans over the bedrail, pressing a light kiss to your forehead. 

brushing a strand of hair behind your ear, you swear you can see the hint of a sparkle in his gaze as he gives you one last kiss on your temple, trailing down to your cheek, “und ich liebe dich.”

“do we have the right place?” a new voice sounds from the entrance. 

before you drift off, the muscle relaxers sucking every last bit of energy, you make out george walking in the room, carmen giving you a slight wave as the world around you fades away. 

so much for visitors. 

however, the bunch remains perched by your side, conversing among one another as you doze off. toto remains as close as possible, caressing your cheek with the pad of his thumb, murmuring strands of hushed german. 

lewis can’t help but watch, his heart swelling at the pure, genuine love bursting in the team principal’s stare.

in that moment, you could have sworn toto was gazing at the stars.

“are her parents coming?”

george’s question is a pressing one, as this was something that had been on lewis’ mind as well. surely her parents would come, right? if his child was recovering from a gnarly crash, he would want to be there.

“no,” alex’s voice is thready, “her parents are still in the process of obtaining their visas. they are not able to make it, unfortunately. that is why i’m her first emergency contact in situations like this. toto is second on the list, actually.”

in the corner of his eye, lewis notices toto perk up, straightening in his chair, “w-what?”

“i’m not shitting you,” alex focuses his attention on the team principal, “you’re second on the list. she had it changed recently.”

“that’s–” toto begins, shock painting his features as he scrambles to formulate some sort of response, “i-i never would have–”

“i hope i’m not crashing the party.”

a new voice interjects, timid as it carries throughout the space.

glancing over his shoulder, at the sight before him, toto’s heart skips a beat.

there stands james vowles, hands shoved in his pockets as he leans against the doorframe. toto’s stare darts towards the clock, eyes squinting as he makes out the pointed direction of the clock hands. 

8:54 p.m. 

only six minutes until visiting hours were over. 

“no,” alex purses his lips, “come join us! the more the merrier.”

james saunters over to the bed, carefully selecting a place between alex and lily, closest to the wall. toto could sense the waves of anxiety radiating off the team principal, how his muscles were wound up tight from tension as he folds his arms across his chest. he swallows a lump in his throat, swaying slightly as he hovers behind alex.

hmmph. what a pussy. 

“hello–” a nurse pokes her head in, eyes widening at the large group, “oh wow! i was not expecting so many visitors! i was just popping in to remind you all that visiting hours will be wrapping up in approximately four minutes or so. those who are not immediate family will have to leave until the morning. the hours will resume at eight am.”

“is it okay if i stay?” alex pulls up his sleeve, exposing a wristband, “i’m family.”

“of course!” the nurse chirps, “those who do not have wristbands will have to leave. if you guys need anything, please let me know. i will be back in about ten minutes to make sure that everyone who is not family has left the room. it’s not the– oh my god. is that lewis hamilton?”

“indeed,” lewis waves, flashing a wide grin, “i’m just here visiting my friend.”

toto can’t help but roll his eyes as the nurse strolls over to the driver, a dusty pink hue tinging her cheeks, “is it okay if i get a picture?”

“of course!” lewis winks, “would you like a few? george can take them.”

“here we go,” george mutters, earning a chorus of laughter from the group, “sure, i’ll take them.”

as the three head over to the farthest corner of the room, toto wipes his palms on his pants, “i should probably head out then.”

“wait,” alex sticks out a hand, leaning over to dig through his bag, “i have something for you. they gave us three wristbands for the family. lily and i both have one, and she asked that i give you the other. you’re more than welcome to stay with us tonight. i’m not sure where you’ll sleep, but i’m sure we can ask for more pillows.”

“oh,” heat rises in the team principal’s cheeks as alex hands him a wristband, “are you sure?”

“she wouldn’t shut up about you,” lily adds, “she told us that if she fell asleep, she hoped that you would be the first person she saw when she woke up. she wants you to stay. we want you to stay.”

“all right,” his focus shifts towards the bed, where his golden girl was sleeping oh so peacefully, her chest rising and falling rhythmically, “i’ll stay.”

“we should probably get going, though,” carmen murmurs, glancing at her phone, “visiting hours are over. i’ll corral the two brits over there. we’ll probably be back tomorrow.”

“sounds good,” alex dips his head, “thank you for coming. i’m sorry she wasn’t awake long enough for–”

“don’t apologize for that mate,” george swiftly cuts off alex, placing a tender hand on his shoulder, “we wanted to come. besides, it’s always nice to see you.”

“it is always nice to see my boyfriend,” a chuckle flows from alex’s lips, “see you guys. thank you for stopping by.”

“of course,” george wraps an arm around alex, bringing him in close, “we’ll be back in the morning.”

“bright and early,” lewis brings a hand to his mouth, yawning, “let’s get out of here. i’m beat.”

“see you two tomorrow,” toto tuts, “you better get some good rest. especially you, george. no celebrating with the lady.”

“yeah, yeah,” george scoffs, waving one last goodbye to the group, “see ya!”

as the three exited the space, james runs a hand through his hair, “i guess it’s my turn to go, yeah?”

“you can stay a little longer,” alex shrugs, “i’m sure that nurse won’t mind. after all, she got her photos with the lewis hamilton. i’m sure her mind is other places.”

“actually,” toto begins, clambering to his feet, “james, i need to speak with you. out in the hall, please.”

james shrinks in his stature, “o-okay.”

as the two make their way out of the room, toto can feel his heart race, thumping against his rib-cage as james shuffles behind him. blood roars in his ears as he comes to a halt, bringing the team principal to a waiting area, settling in one of the chairs. james faces him, exhaling as he crosses his legs, his hands resting on his knee. 

this was the pivotal moment of the season. 

the defining moment in which determined toto’s success for the years to come. 

not only the success of the team, but the preservation of their reputation. 

this would be the start of contract talks among the two team principals regarding the release of the williams driver, where she would sign to mercedes for the 2025 season. 

all he needed was that blessing from james.

those few words that would give him the approval that he was desperately aching for. 

“surely you know what this is about.”

james forms a tight-lipped frown, “i do.”

“and what are your thoughts?” toto leans back, allowing james to take the floor.

“as much as i want her at williams until 2026,” james’ voice is nearly a whisper, “i know where her heart lies. she wants to go to mercedes, where she will be by your side. and you know, i have had to face the hard facts that i cannot stop her. she is going to do everything in her power to get to you. she’s made that very clear with me. 

and you know, i have had to do my own thinking about what is best for the team. if she is not happy with us, that is not ideal for the team as a whole. she’s unapologetically herself, and i know that she will speak out against us if she stays here. she will start to resent me, the williams name, and even start to resent racing. even the thought of driving a car will start to leave a bitter taste in her mouth. 

i don’t want that. she is an exceptional driver. one in a million, actually. i have never quite seen such drive and desire to win in someone that young. she’s the best fucking driver on that grid and i’ll be damned to see her lose that fire burning within. i don’t want to be that person to quench those flames. so, toto, here is what i am going to tell you.”

he pauses, catching his breath before continuing.

“you have my blessing. we can start those contract talks. you have to promise me one thing, though.”

“what is it?” toto presses, cringing at the desperation dripping in his tone, “i’ll do anything you ask, james.”

“that you will take care of her. no matter what. if you two decide to end things romantically, you have to promise me that you will still look out for her. she has a good head on her shoulders, but she is her own worst enemy. she will lash out at the media, get violent with other drivers, and worst of all, doubt herself.  i need you to be the person who will lift her up. always.”

james, you have no idea.

“i will be,” toto sucks in a breath, “i will be that person who loves her unconditionally. no matter what. even if things do not end well between us, i will be that person who will continue to support her and lift her up when she needs it. that is my job as the team principal. and you know i try my best to do a damn good job at that. james, i have a question for you.”

“and that is?” he raises a brow. 

“do you have any idea of how much i love that woman?”

james tsks, shaking his head, “i have seen the interview with sky sports. i’ve seen the way you look at her. i think i have an idea.”

“well then,” toto leans forward, sticking out his right hand, “are we good then? i will probably contact my assistant and have her start drafting the necessary emails. we will get the ball rolling.”

james reciprocates the gesture, his hand interlocking with toto’s, shaking it, “we are good. i will keep in contact with you. i have full faith in you, toto. i know you will take care of her. i just have this fatherly instinct when it comes to her. i hope you can understand. i just want what is best for my american girl.”

you and i both, james.

and she will thrive at mercedes. without a doubt.

“james,” the corners of his lips curl into a meek smile, “i can promise you that i will give her the best and only the best at mercedes. i can promise you another thing.”

“and what could that possibly be?” for the first time in weeks, toto heard laughter erupting from the team principal’s throat. 

“i can promise you that i will make her a world champion. she will be the 2025 world driver’s champion. and she will be the world champion in the years to follow. i will do everything in my power to ensure that she gets what she deserves. there’s no doubt about that.”

☽༺ sunday, june 30th, 2024 ༻☾

“golden girl! look who we brought!”

turning your chin, you glance over your shoulder to see george russell and lewis hamilton walking towards you, lewis’ hands cupped around his mouth. behind them is toto, donned in his sunday uniform. 

“who said that you could call me ‘golden girl’?” placing your hands on your hips, you can’t help but giggle as lewis pulls down his shades, rolling his eyes.

“i thought it was a universal nickname, my apologies!”

“that nickname is reserved for the one and only torger wolff,” sticking out a tongue, you gravitate towards the team principal, feeling his arms envelop your frame.

you’re showered with kisses, his mouth roaming all over your head and cheeks, “good afternoon, my love.”

“hi baby,” rising on your calves, you graciously accept a chaste kiss, lewis and george curling their lips in disgust. 

“please get a room.”

“no, seriously. there’s places in the paddock for that.”

“are you ready for today?” toto’s mouth hovers by your ear, voice soft. 

“of course,” you nod, “i was born ready, remember?”

today was the infamous austrian grand prix, hosted at red bull ring. fans from all over swarmed the stands, pumping their fists and raising the dutch flag, in favor of max verstappen. additionally, there was a plethora of mercedes fans, as this was toto’s home race.

although you had yet to officially announce your departure from williams, the contract was signed. all you had to do was verbally state your intention to race for mercedes at the start of the 2025 season. which, you were holding off that announcement as much as humanly possible, even if the media generated dozens of speculations with each passing day.

in the weeks since montreal, life was nothing but a blur, the days blending together. 

there were several lengthy flights, a brief visit back home in the states, a few days in monte carlo, and most importantly, time spent with toto. 

since you suffered a concussion in canada, you were grateful for the two-week period between montreal and barcelona. you were given adequate time to recover without feeling the need to rush back into racing. 

although you were anxious to get back behind the wheel again, toto urged you to take it easy. 

so, you did, taking your mind off racing for a while and flying back to arizona for a week. toto accompanied you, where you got to show him around your hometown, introduce him to your parents, and even give him a taste of that good ol’ american lifestyle. 

at first, your parents had their reservations. however, your predictions were correct. once they met the austrian, they were wooed over by his charming personality and witty humor. the two of you were able to discuss your move to mercedes. which, resulted in the three of you holding each other, tears in your parents eyes as they profusely stated over and over again how proud they were.

your father was over the moon, as he knew how driving for mercedes was a lifelong dream of yours. 

and thanks to toto and james, you were able to achieve it.

the second you were discharged from the hospital, toto had arranged for theodore to pick you up. from there, you were taken to the airport, where you hopped on a flight to brackley. 

upon your arrival to the mercedes headquarters, you were met with the williams team, adrenaline coursing through your veins as you began to connect the dots. 

toto was able to get james’ approval. which meant that you were able to begin contract talks.

the negotiations only lasted half an hour, as the team principals sorted things out amongst one another while you were in the hospital. of course, you questioned the fia’s involvement in the matter, as they had made it clear they were to be present during the meetings. 

yet, toto and james informed you not to worry about a damn thing, as they had discussed matters with the fia prior to your arrival.

so, all you had to do was sign the papers. check the boxes when needed, initial here and there. 

once the contract was finalized, you were surprised by george and lewis, the two of them embracing you so tightly that you were sure you broke a rib or two. additionally, you were introduced to mick, who was absolutely starstruck by your presence. 

although there was the setback in montreal, there was still much to celebrate.

you were still the leader of the pack in terms of the driver standings, max and lando not too far behind. even after recovering from your nasty concussion, you were able to pull off a barcelona win, sharing a podium with lewis. 

part of you wished that you, george, and lewis could all share a podium together under the mercedes name.

yet, that was not possible.

besides, lewis was already bound to join ferrari. george would remain with you at mercedes, with mick as the reserve driver. lewis promised that the three of you would still remain close, even if he was in that unforgettable ferrari red. 

you were well on your way to making history as the first female world driver’s champion. 

and god, did that leave such a fucking sweet taste in your mouth.

“if i win your home race, will you come and kiss me on the podium?” 

“we’ll see about that,” there’s the glitter of amusement in his mocha depths, his dimples forming as his grin widens, “i don’t know if our pr teams could handle another mishap like monaco.”

“that was not a mishap,” you counter, “that will go down as one of the most unforgettable moments in f1 history.”

“perhaps you’re right, my love,” taking your hands into his, toto intertwines your fingers together, “you’re going to be careful out there, right?”

“right,” you affirm, “i’m going to be oh so safe.”

“unless she wants to overtake kevin again,” george whistles, “we’ll have to watch for that.”

“good thing i’m pole,” you roll your eyes, “shouldn’t you guys be heading back to the paddock? we’re going to start soon.”

“yes,” lewis’ head turns, focusing on the track, “we should probably get going. i just wanted to make sure that loverboy got a kiss before the race.”

“well thank you–”

“all right people!” james’ voice floats through the garage, “it’s go time!”

“oh shit,” you exhale, “i really have to go.”

“good luck, my golden girl,” toto leans in, pressing one more kiss on your lips, “i love you.”

“i love you more,” you can’t help but feel heat burning in your cheeks as george and lewis snicker, making kissy faces, “i’ll see you on that podium for that kiss soon, yeah?”

“you bet,” toto squishes you against his chest one final time, “i have to go, my love. see you soon!”

“see you soon!” you nod enthusiastically, zipping up your suit, “good luck lew! good luck out there george!”

“where’s my american girl?” james inquires, searching wildly for you as you enter the garage, “i need my american girl!”

“i’m here!” you raise a hand, “i was just getting my good luck kiss.”

“oh god,” james lets out an exasperated sigh, “well come on, we gotta get a quick debrief in before the race.”

before you know it, you’re behind the wheel of your car, gliding onto the track. 

easing on the gas, you sail towards the pole position, the rest of the grid lining up in their respective positions behind you. the lights on the track gleam red, signaling that the race was merely minutes from starting. 

as the crew gathers around your vehicle, swiftly prepping in that thirty second period, you can’t help but feel your heart rate escalate, adrenaline beginning to pump through your veins. clicking the visor down on your helmet, your body tenses, anticipating that final light. that final signal before it’s lights out in austria. 

swallowing the lump in your throat, you hum under your breath. it’s a simple tune, really, a song by florence + the machine. 

the dog days were over. 

you had truly braved the worst of storms in the past few weeks, from a terrifying crash to the revelation in monaco. you were dealt horrid hate comments, bizarre headlines from the tabloids, and the falling out of a friendship with someone who cared so deeply for.

but here were you, despite it all.

on your way to win yet another grand prix. another event to add to your personal history book. 

another milestone for the woman referred to as america’s sweetheart. 

there’s a beat of silence before the final light flickers, the roar of engines deafening. 

“and the austrian grand prix is underway! perfect reaction time for the american girl! she is off to a magnificent start! will she make history yet again?”

in seventy-one laps time, you would have that answer.

but for the time being, you were going to savor the moment. the thrill of it all. 

and for now, that would be enough. 

racing was never in the cards. 

but fuck, were you oh so elated that you ended up here, behind the wheel of a williams car, destined for greatness. 

the american woman who made history as the first female world driver’s champion.

that had a nice ring to it. a real nice ring, actually. 

abu dhabi could not come soon enough. 

˖⁺‧₊˚♡˚₊‧⁺˖✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧˖⁺‧₊˚♡˚₊‧⁺˖✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧˖⁺‧₊˚♡˚₊‧⁺˖✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧˖⁺‧₊˚♡˚₊‧⁺˖

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[ragingbookdragon]

The woman sits down beside him on the park bench as he watches JJ run around with the toy soldier in his hand, yelling commands and jumping over playground equipment, pretending to be his dad. She smiles and leans over, asking, “Which one is yours?”

He eyes her from the corner of his hood and mutters, “Tyke with the action figure.”

She smiles wider. “He’s cute. JJ, isn’t he?” She points to a young girl following JJ around with her little nurse box. “He plays with Amelia a lot.”

“Yeah?” He’s not exactly interested in the conversation, but one look tells him she’s a tired mom who just wants to talk to someone not in “Mom-Land” 24/7.

“Amelia was really sick as a baby. When she was well enough to play…a lot of the kids didn’t want to play with her. Said she’d make them sick.”

“Cancer?” He asks before he can stop himself, and she blinks before she nods.

“Free now, but kids can be cruel.” She waves at JJ when he looks over. “JJ was the first to play with her. They like to play soldiers and medics.” A laugh escapes her when JJ tumbles and calls for Amelia, and the little girl bends beside him and starts opening the little box of toy supplies. “Is your wife working?”

He wonders if it’s a hope for a mom friend but he shakes his head. “Not married. JJ’s my godson.”

“Oh? But the woman who brings him?” She blinks. “I thought she was…”

“Missus Price is my CO’s wife. She and him took a vacation. I’m watchin’ JJ.”

“You must be close with them,” she surmises. “I thought she was your wife. She’s always so nice and sweet.”

He smiles at that. “Missus Price is a good one.” He whistles sharply all of the sudden, and JJ’s head pops up in the grass before he gets up and hauls Amelia with him, running over.

JJ mock salutes. “Reporting for duty, sir!” He looks at Amelia. “Lia, you have to salute.” The little girl follows in suit and the woman giggles at them.

“It’s gettin’ time for lunch,” he says and JJ whines.

“But Uncle Simon, we just got to the sandpit.”

Simon glares at him. “Soldiers need sustenance for survival. Without it, you’ll starve.”

JJ’s eyes widen and he turns to Amelia. “Medic, I have to leave my battle station.” He salutes her and she does it back clumsily. “Ready for sustance, sir.”

“Sustenance,” Simon corrects and stands up, placing a large hand on his head; it dwarfs the boy’s skull, fingers going over his eyes.

“Unc’ Simon, I can’t see,” he giggles.

“C’mon Banshee,” he says and nods to the woman before he starts walking.

JJ follows, but stops, a faint pink covering his cheeks as he hurries back and hugs Amelia tight. “Bye Medic Lia.”

Amelia hugs him back and smiles with a wave as the woman watches the young boy run next to his godfather, spouting off about enemies in the sandpit and the security of the nation.

The woman hurriedly rises and picks up Amelia, following with, “Wait!”

Simon stops and turns, looking at her expectingly.

“Um…Amelia and I will be back tomorrow around ten…if JJ and you want to come back and play?” She smiles, feeling heat on her cheeks and Simon gazes at her before he looks down at JJ who is nodding rapidly.

“We’ll be ‘ere,” he agrees and the woman smiles.

“I’m glad,” she holds out her hand to shake. “It’s nice to meet you, Simon.”

He takes her hand and shakes it, his grip firm but warm and inviting. “You as well.”

As they walk off, JJ looks up at him and asks, “Do you like Amelia’s mum?”

Simon rolls his eyes. “I just met ‘er, Banshee.”

“I like Amelia’s mom. She’s nice. She always brings me a snack.” He takes Simon’s hand. “I think you should like Amelia’s mum.”

“I’ll think about it.” He says, and happens a glance back at the woman who is listening intently to her daughter vividly depict her playtime with her friend; a small smile graces his lips and he thinks to himself, “I’ll think about it a lot.”

[am-i-interrupting]

Across the River | Viktor x Jinx’s Older Sibling

Chapter 2: Quiet

Summary: After the explosion and disappearance of Vi, you take your little sister across the river to Piltover. You struggle to keep the two of you afloat but manage to get Jinx to the academy. This is where she procures an internship that changes your lives.

Viktor tapped his pen against his chin. Something was missing. He looked at the equations and written in his notebook and everything was correct. So what was wrong?

“You’ve been staring at that page for ten minutes,” Jayce said.

It clicked in the silence that followed after.

“Have you heard from our assistant today?” he asked.

Jinx was normally bouncing around the lab. She was always jittery. Something always moved on the girl, whether her whole body or just her foot tapping against the tiles of the floor. A light tap of the steel toe, which curled just barely to the bottoms of her shoes, against the ceramic of the tiles would ring all throughout the day. She was often humming even as she read Viktor and Jayce’s old notes to gain further understanding of the Hextech of today.

It’d been quite today. Abnormally so with her absence. Viktor offhandedly questioned when her noise had become the norm when it was for so often and so long the opposite.

Often times she stayed just as long as he did. Mourning and groaning as he locked the lab late some nights that she couldn’t stay longer. However, as he often reminded her, she was still in school and thus not allowed to remain with Hextech equipment unsupervised. Neither mentioning that she would stay awake in the early mornings, youth on her side, when he fell asleep at his desk.

“I- huh, no, I haven’t,” Jayce said.

“How unlike her.”

She’d only missed one day in her two month internship. This day having been warned a week and a half in advance for some undisclosed reasons. When Jayce laughed at how antsy she’d been, making sure it was okay that she missed a singular day, she was twisting her fingers together then suddenly stopped. She exhaled from her nostrils with false humor and Viktor was the one of the two who heard her mutter beneath her breath about how she wanted to keep her internship.

He leaned back in his seat. He used a foot to scoot back from the desk enough to open a drawer. He thumbed through the files until he found the one labeled ‘Jinx’

He opened it.

First Name: Jinx

House Name: None

Gender: Woman

Age: 17

All of this information he already knew. He flipped through the pages detailing her schooling and academic prowess. He then found the page detailing her guardian, where he hoped the information he sought would lay. There it was.

“I’ll be back,” Viktor said as he grabbed his crutch and started walking towards the door.

Jayce looked at him with furrowed brows but did nothing else to question him.

Typically, Viktor would likely say it’s inappropriate or a cross of boundaries. However, he would admit he’d grown found of the girl.

She was loud and chaotic but she reminded Viktor of himself. A stark contrast to him but not so different really.

She often lost herself in work very similarly to how he did. In a way Jayce didn’t truly understand. Yes, Jayce was passionate but he was also concerned with things neither of them were.

She’d peered over his shoulder at notes multiple times and pointed at equations with her own pencil. All she would say was that it didn’t look quit right and walk away. He did the exact same thing to her.

Those late nights in the lab were often times filled with her standing at the chalkboard, writing down ideas bounced off one another.

Jayce was his partner. Jinx was more so like a shadow. A very loud, hyperactive shadow but one nonetheless.

He stepped out of the taxi he’d hauled down in a less well off part of Piltover. It was close to the border between it and the Undercity.

The houses were still miles above what he grew up with down there, both metaphorically and literally, but he knew this was not a part of Piltover the upper class looked at in a bright light.

He walked down the road to a small apartment complex. He pushed open the door to the building and scanned the lower floor. He was looking for the number 07. It didn’t take long for him to find the right door.

He raised his fist and knocked.

A moment later the door opened to reveal a figure shorter than him with deep purple or perhaps blue hair. “Can I help you?” you asked in a curt tone.

“I apologize if I have the wrong home, however, I am from the Hextech corporation. I was looking for a young woman named Jinx, is she here?”

“What’s it—“

“Is that Viktor?” Jinx’s voice, though a bit hoarse, sounded in question.

A hand appeared on your shoulder, fingernails painted pink and blue, which gently guided you back.

“Oh, hey,” Jinx said as she came into view of Viktor.

Her hair was not in the usual bun Viktor was used to seeing it in but instead let down in two long braids which pooled at the ground. Her attire was baggy and old, clearly for comfort.

It was her eyes and nose that Viktor noticed most. Both red, irritated, and puffy. Her lips were pale in contrast. Though Viktor had no frame of reference if that was their usual color as she always had them painted a muted purple tone but assumed they were more so pale than usual.

“Do you need me to come in?” she asked as she pulled one of her braids over her shoulder and began running her hands over it. “I would have come in this morning but I wasn’t feeling sick and I didn’t want to get you sick, well sicker and so I thought it’d be best if I stayed home but I can come in if—“

“No,” you said. “You’re not going anyway except bed.”

“I’m inclined to agree,” Viktor said. “We don’t need you in the lab, though you’re always a pleasure to have. It is just out of character for you to miss so I thought I would come check to make sure you’re alright.”

“Oh.” Jinx’s shoulders dropped and her hands stopped. “Thanks, I guess.”

“Now go and lay down,” you told her.

“Yeah, um, it was nice seeing you, Viktor,” Jinx said with a small wave before she turned and walked over, sniffling as she did.

You exited the apartment, the door creaking closed behind you.

You looked at the man before you, the Viktor Jinx would go on about, one of the two creators of Hextech.

He wasn’t what you expected. He had cheekbones that were beginning to become an unhealthy level of sharp. Permanent bags were beneath his eyes, framed further by a mole under one. His hair was unkempt and wavy, falling in his face slightly. Not at all what you exited.

He was almost akin to the type of people you grew up around. Tired and sickly.

“I’d say I’d invite you in but that would be a lie even if she wasn’t sick,” you told him. “Nothing personal, I just don’t like people in my space. I’m Jinx’s older sister.”

“Pleasure to meet you. She speaks highly of you,” he said.

You snorted. “Yeah, right, I find that hard to believe.”

Viktor made a noncommittal noise. His lips moved mutely for a moment before he settled in saying, “She speaks fondly of you, mostly.”

“That’s more likely. I’d offer you a ride but I don’t have an automobile and she’s a baby when she’s sick. You got here by yourself, you can get back?”

“I am more than capable,” Viktor said as he shifted some of his weight off his cane.

You took note of that. “I’m a jackass,” you said bluntly, “but I’d be saying that to anyone. Well, not anyone but anyone Jinx likes so much. She’s constantly worried about impressing you two. Don’t want to give her any more reason to.”

“I understand completely. When I first made my way to Piltover, I was much the same.”

“You not from here?”

“From across the bridge,” he said.

“Ah. Nice to know some people make it up top,” you said. “Anyway, I’m going to make sure she didn’t pass out in the hallway. Good day, Viktor.”

“Good day to you as well.”

You went back inside. Viktor stood for a moment, looked around the empty hall, and then proceeded to take his own leave.

If you like this story, consider helping me continue to be able to post through looking at my mobility aid wishlist if you have the money to spare.

[spacedace]

It’s been a busy day for Elle by the time she rounds the corner and sees the unattended Batmobile parked in the alley she usually cuts through to go home. But not so busy that she’s willing to ignore the prime opportunity that she’s just stumbled upon.

Bats in the Bowery is always something that gets people’s heckles up - this is Hood’s turf and the people that live there are just as territorial over that as their violent vigilante. Batman himself being in the Bowery might as well be a declaration of war. Sure, when the heavy hitters are out causing shit things are a bit more flexible, but even then the Bats are there with Red Hood. Obviously and clearly tolerated for the time being.

Elle would put good money on Hood not being in the loop that the big Bat himself is currently parked three blocks away from Crime Alley. Which means that the Batmobile, tucked away in the shadows and entirely unattended, is free game.

Fuck it, she decides. 

Jay had asked her and Danny about what kind of rings Jazz likes. He’s on all their emergency contact lists, and he’s offered to officially adopt her and Danny to lighten Jazz’s load a little. He’s put in the time to figure out how to incorporate ectoplasm into his amazing home cooked meals in such a way that it doesn’t cause the food to come back to life just so they can have something tasty and nutritious. 

He’s family.

Which means it’s only right that she honors his place as family, by following in his footsteps.

Even without any of the proper equipment for the job, it’s a lot easier for her to remove the tires than it had been for her soon-to-be brother-in-law all those years ago. All it takes is five minutes, some intangibility and some increased strength and she has a pile of tires wider than her body stacked up behind her. She doesn’t even get any grease on her in the process. It takes more effort to find a pencil in her blackhole of a backpack to write the note she leaves behind tucked under one of the windshield wipers.

Getting the tires home is another story but she eventually manages to scrounge up enough blob ghosts to help her haul them back with her unseen. The little dudes like a little mischief - and like Hood even more - and they need the exercise. She’s not sure exactly what she’s going to do with the tires when she gets home though. One is definitely going to Jay as a present, maybe she could get Skulker to help her mount it on a plaque like one of his hunting trophies? Other than that though, they’re largely just going to take up space in the apartment.

Bill would probably know a guy. Hell, Bill may even want in on the trophy idea as a gift for Hood, he’d been saying that the anniversary of the crime lord taking out Black Mask was coming up. Maybe she could get the goon to help her get the last two tires to a couple of the more fun rogues as gifts? Harley for sure would get a laugh out of it. Ivy would probably be upset over the ecological impact of the creation of the tire, but maybe she could sell the last one to Penguin?

-

Tim blinks at the stack of - very familiar - tires taking up the corner of the Nightingales’ living room. Elle has them arranged in an approximation of a throne with a couple of pillows set down so she can sit more comfortably as she lounges. She barely even glances up at them as Danny leads them inside, slurping at a bright green smoothie as she taps away on her phone.

Danny looks as thrown by the tableau as Tim is. It’s nice to see that Danny isn’t as totally immune to Elle’s shenanigans as he pretends. Though, it’s also mildly terrifying to consider his boyfriend’s little sister is capable of chaos that not even Danny “Danger Twink” Nightingale can come up with.

“Uh…what you got there, Elle?”

Elle, pointedly, takes a long, loud slurp from her smooth as she looks up to meet her brother’s gaze. “New family tradition.” She says, unblinking.

Danny stands there for a long moment before giving a final shrug. “Yeah, sure. Jay will get a kick out of it.”

Tim pulls his phone out and snaps some pictures. Danny is right, of course, Jason is going to love it. But so will everyone else in the group chat.

[stargrltara]

Kinda Outa Luck

pairing: jason todd x fem!reader

summary: based off of the song ‘Kinda Outa Luck’ by lana del rey👩‍❤️‍💋‍👩 . reader is kinda inspired by catwoman in the batman , she works in a club, and on the low she’s gothams most wanted female thief. She is gorgeous, and she uses it to her advantage. Oh, did i mention she has a thing for the Red Hood? And, honesty, he does too, though he is pretty shit at hiding it. PT 1 PT2

warnings: EVENTUAL 18+ MDNI, mentions of clubs, tying up, begging, mentions of sexual natures and strippers, slapping, unprotected sex, p in v, teasing, some fluff and angst, enemies with benefits??

a/n:. guys if i’m being honest i’m not in the best place right now. but i really wanted to write this.. i’m also ovulating so enjoy 💓 . ( also i’m terribly bad at writing smut i’m SO sorry if this isn’t up to standard😰 . )

⋆ ˚｡⋆୨♡୧⋆ ˚｡⋆

“ you never cared what i did at all

motel singer or the silver pole

i did what i had to do.. „

Everyone in Gotham knew who you were. Everyone knew you as the sexy, sly femme fatale who always got her way no matter the cost. You were a goddess. Females in Gotham would normally be petrified to have the confidence and power that you own. Even just working at the classy ‘Iceberg Lounge’ people would respect the floors you walked on. With millions of men drooling and tugging at your sequinned heels, begging for an ounce of attention as you deliver drinks and messages to your boss.

However, they never knew the true side of you. Sure, they established your mysterious ways to make men fawn and yearn for even a slight glance their way. But, they never knew who you were when the night called. Gotham’s most agile, seductive and infamously known thief and burglar in the whole of gotham.

Tugging on your skintight bodysuit, you swiftly rushed the inky latex onto your body, fiddling with the zipper which ended in the midst of your breasts, forcefully plunging them up. The material clinged firmly onto your fair skin, and fit you like a glove since the last time you’ve worn it. A melodic sensation of mischief trickled down your spine as you twirled your locks through the soft of your fingers, the sandy brown hair clutching onto the suit as you quickly collected the belongings and equipment needed for tonight’s schemes; and a smirk crept onto your faint lips.

“ femme fatale

always on the run

diamonds on my wrist

whiskey on my tongue „

The shattering of a reflective glass splattered like watercolored paint onto the cool, marbled floor, leaving an open space for fluorescent beams of silver moonlight to pour through, drowning the room in a luminous ember. 

The tranquil ambiance was soon interrupted when you quickly realised your mission. Swiftly swaying, you made your way to the jewellery display, peering at each of the rectangular, glass containers which secured each sentimental crystal. After picking the lock seamlessly, you slowly reached for the antique jewel, wrapping the soft, translucent gemstone inside the palm of the glove. The jewel reflected a shimmer from the gleam of the moon; an overworldly beauty traced upon it.

Suddenly, an alarm went off. Then another. Then another; the blaring noise agitating your ear canals. And then you were pulled away along with a strong pair of hands covering your mouth, smudging your lined lips and a hand gripped tightly around your waist. The figure hauled you away, pushing you against a wall; the cool brick against rubbing your back, spiking chills and your hairs on the back of your neck to rise.

“—Don’t speak.” An uncomfortably familiar voice muttered. His hand still on your mouth, covering your ability to curse him out as his head peaks around the corner to check for other criminals.

Glaring up at him with narrowed eyes, the light shone into his crimson mask; milky eyes disguised against his true identity. Gazing down, you could barely make out the murky suit he was wearing, the red hood symbol on the chest area and although your sight was a blurry haze, the clear display of his toned abdomen send veins of arousal to your core. Undeniably and unethically.

You managed to pull his hand off if your mouth, and the words “ Red, what the fuck are yo— “ could barely escape your mouth before he slammed you against the wall to get you to stop speaking as he noticed criminals run past. A light groan fell from your lips, and seeped into the material of his gloves; the warm of your breath igniting against his palm and in that moment, he scowled down at you.

Steadily removing his palm from your mouth, you could feel your heart beating out of your chest. Fast enough that he could probably hear it through his mask. “ Stay here, ‘m gonna go take care of this quick. “ his annoying voice echoed through his mask. You only pierced your eyes at him and crossed your arms over your chest before he quickly went to go and fight the criminals. His tall shadow swaying further away, and you couldn’t help but notice him look back to make sure you were still there.

You just stood there and watched as Red Hood took care of the criminals, putting them in their place and leaving them unconscious. With snark, he walked over to you, his hands flying up in the air in defence as you were about to open your lips parted, getting ready to curse him out.

“ Jesus, Red.. —you stalkin’ me or somethin’?! “ your voice was only a groan, a stubborn one at that. You were frustrated at him as he interfered with your carefree mission; but you were also pissed because he didn’t think you could handle those criminals alone. It made an infuriated glow grind down your spine, and one that made you seemed belittled against him.

He only scoffed, tilting his head at your ignorant comment before he sighed. “ Just give back what you stole, doll..“ Your brows raised at his hilarious joke, he seriously thought you were going to give back what you took? “ finders keepers..” you couldn’t deny your mind was corrupted by a foreign haze after he mummer his nickname for you; ‘doll’.

“.. and losers—” were your last words before you inched closer, and suddenly attacking him with a sly punch in the hip, and then a kick in the rib. A harsh groan arose form his mouth, and he fell to the ground, the brisk marble against his knee caps. You rapidly ran away, avoiding turning back. Part of you knew he could’ve easily chased after you, part of him knee he could’ve easily chased after you, but he didn’t. Instead he just turned on his heel, observing you dim into the shadows.

PT 1 .

[kennahjune]

The fic thing you guys are so adamant about:

Steve knows— KNOWS— that Eddie Munson is not weak.

Eddie Munson threw him against a wall the moment he laid eyes on him— it was safe to say that Steve was aware of the strength his boyfriend possessed.

And the thing was; Steve found it hot.

He found it so fucking hot— Robin was so tired of hearing about it.

Steve didn’t think he’d be into it, figured he’d enjoy being the strong one in the relationship. But /man/ he loved watching Eddie haul around that band equipment like it was basically nothing.

So yes, Steve was into Eddie’s not-so-hidden strength. What of it?

He just hadn’t realized /how/ into it he was.

It was hot outside, like— blistering hot. Everyone was gathered at Steve’s house as per usual. All the kids and most of the adults and older teens were outside in the pool or on the patio. Steve himself was in the kitchen with Robin and Argyle, enjoying the AC and a fabulous conversation.

A conversation that was immediately ruined by the glass door flying open so fast Steve was scared it would’ve shattered.

“Jesus fuck, Eddie! Careful with my door, man!!”

Eddie had the decency to look sheepish.

“Sorry, sweetheart. Told Dustin and Max I’d get them drinks from the fridge.”

“What about the whole ass cooler me and Jonathan dragged out for them?”

“Dustin wants Fanta and Max wants apple juice. You know how vicious they are, baby.”

Steve groaned, shoving Robin’s shoulder and kicking lightly at Argyle’s leg when they had the audacity to laugh at him.

“Ungrateful little fuckers.”

Eddie snickered. “Yeah they are.”

Steve rolled his eyes fondly. “Whatever. I think the apple juice is in the fridge downstairs.”

“Thanks, baby.” Eddie kissed him on the forehead on his way through.

“No problem!” Steve yelled after him, ignoring the snickers from Robin and the smooch-y noises from Argyle.

When Eddie came back upstairs with the apple juice to get Dustin’s Fanta, Argyle, Robin, and Steve don’t even notice. They’re much too absorbed in their new fabulous conversation.

“Yeah but that’s what I’m saying, Rob! If I were to shoot you just as you stabbed me it’d probably do more damage!”

“But /why/, Steve? Why?” Robin asked back.

Argyle answered for Steve. “Probably because he’d be shooting you point-blank. More internal damage that way.”

Steve snapped his finger at him. “Exactly! See, Robin? Argyle gets it just fine!!”

“That’s cause you guys are smoking the same shit!”

“Bull! Jonathan does to!”

“Your point is?”

Eddie chose not to intervene on that conversation.

But Steve was right in front of the fridge.

Eddie’s two brain cells made a plan.

Eddie set the apple juice container on the island, still going unnoticed by the other three in the kitchen with him. He moved swiftly to Steve and put his hands tightly on his waist.

Before Steve had a second to say anything or even comprehend the hands that were suddenly on him, Eddie was lifting him up and setting him on the counter by the fridge.

“Excuse me, sunshine.”

Eddie opened the fridge but kept one hand on Steve’s knee. With his head in the fridge looking for the Fanta can, Steve’s totally and utterly flustered state went abruptly unnoticed.

When Eddie closed the fridge, he leant in and stole a small kiss from Steve’s lips before leaving back out the patio doors with the drinks.

“I-“

“Shut it, Buckley.”

Steve went outside to drag Eddie back in. Later, if anybody were to have asked Argyle and Robin where either went, they both answered with shrugs and claims of “I don’t know”, despite watching the boyfriends run upstairs together.