#fast pace

[justjams2003]

Hiii! Super loved your recent work (fast pace) 🩷 I was really hooked and now it's one of my favorite Carlos fics here!

I was wondering if I could request a special part of it? Anything like their life with their kids, their life after carlos' retirement, or something domestic! Thank you 🫶🏻

Hi! I just want to apologize for making you wait for so long. I took a bit of a writing break after finishing Fast Pace. But I got inspired after Carlos won last weekend! Please enjoy:

Summary: Some domestic bliss as you and Carlos pick up your three eldest children after their first day of Grade 1 and kindergarten.

Pairing: Sugar Daddy!Carlos Sainz x Sugar Baby!Reader

Husband!Father!Carlos Sainz x Wife!Mother!Reader

Warnings: Carlos is aged up and is in this request now 41. Age difference. A cute happy family. Even still, manipulation, control, obsession. Carlos tampers with your birth control. Kissing. A very slight mention of alcohol.

Taglist: @httpjeonlicious, @f1lov3r, @messersandmesses, @hollie911, @oriconde08 @thehufflepuffavenger1 @fanboyluvr @thatgirlmj @whyamireadingthis @oriconde08 @depressedriches @roseseraj @skepvids @sain55wifey @distinguishedvoidlady @amatswimming @sachaa-ff @lightdragonrayne @lazybot @formula1mount @fangirl-dot-com @saintslewis @carlossainzwho @lordpercevalcharles @topguncultleader @kitixie @serp3ns0rtiae @hangmandruigandmav @therealone4r @keii134 @dark-night-sky-99 @jax-the-oregonian @hachrinnen @formulaal tjdjindahouse

Word count: 2k

Masterlist

The first year of marriage was amazing. You spent almost every hour with Carlos. Jumping from airplane to airplane, country to country. You were attached at the hip. The media either loved it or hated it...you actually didn’t know. At some point, a PR team took over your Instagram and it was rare for you to ever actually read the comments or news. Any information you’d receive would come from Carlos and his team, after all, they’re all you really can trust.  

 That was, of course, until, mysteriously, your birth control pills stopped working. It feels like so long ago, the day Carlos picked you up in his arms, celebrating the news of a child. Now, you wait outside the school gates, seven years later, with a much older Carlos but just as excited. His eyes now crinkle up and he has a few grey steaks at the temples of his hair. But he’s not any less handsome.  

Especially when his big strong arms holds your daughter in his arms. Your little girl sits perched on his hip. The only other girl in his life, besides you. She looks so much like him. Dark toughs of hair that you’ve combed this morning with the same wavy texture as his hair. Her big brown eyes gleam up with such love at him.  

And at the same time, he carries your son in his car seat with the other arm. He’s sleeping soundly, his dummy bobbing up and down as he suckles in his sleep. You’re so glad Carlos is here to help. You were sad three years ago when he decided to retire at the end of the season. But now, you’re so grateful. You don’t think you could do this with him on the other side of the world.  

You feel like you’ve been pregnant forever now. Totally accidently five months after giving birth, now you’re 2 months pregnant again. You groan, everything hurts. Your breasts are engorged from breastfeeding and now being pregnant again. You’ve got constant heartburn and nausea. Your hair has thinned and your nails feel brittle. And yet, including all that, Carlos still believes wholeheartedly that you are the most gorgeous girl in the whole world.  

Carlos steps closer to you and places a kiss on your temples. “¿Cómo te sientes, mi amor?” When was the last time that you spoke English? You can’t really remember, because now Spanish also sounds like English. “Tired, mostly, I’ve missed the boys all day, it feels so strange without them home.” He chuckles and nods, “It’s strange for the house to be quiet... You think everything went well?”  

You smile and turn to the gates, you know Carlos is worried his children might be bullied or used for his name. That they won’t be able to make proper friends, that all the kids would just use them to get into the celebrity world. You had a meeting with the twins and Junior’s schools to handle this with grace.  

You can feel the other parents whisper, talking with each other. You feel someone tap your shoulder. You turn, it’s a woman who looks to be your age, 31. Where has the time gone? She smiles and speaks in Spanish, like everyone else where you live. “Is this your first time?” She asks with a kind smile. You return the expression, “No, not at kindergarten. But it’s still as nerve wracking.”  

She laughs with you as you begin your small talk. “But, after this we have to pick up our son at first grade, which makes our stomachs turn.” You laugh and lightly graze Carlos’ arm to show who ‘we’ are. “Is this your husband?” She asks and Carlos nods. “Hi, I’m Carlos. I would shake your hand but my hands are a little full.” He says, referring to the children in his hands. He refuses to let you carry anything while pregnant.  

“And I’m Y/N.” You shake her hand and she also introduces herself. Then your ear catches the sound of excited children screaming as the first classroom door opens. Your head snaps to the noise and then you see the teacher you had met with walking to the gate with a trail of kids behind her.  

You can see your twin boys anxiously scanning the parents trying to find you. And when the eldest of the two do see you, he grabs his brother’s arm and quickly runs over. “Mama! Papa!” They yell and excitedly run over into your arms. They wrap their arms around you, as you bend down and hug them close.  

“Hello, my loves, how was it?” You ask, combing the hair out of their eyes. They look a lot more like you than the other kids. “It was fun, but missed you mama.” Dario, the youngest of the two says. Your girl babbles and makes grabbing hands at Antonio, the oldest of the twins. “Papa, wanna hold sis.” Antonio says, Carlos smiles and puts Bianca down on her little feet. Your kids hug each other, Carlos has raised his sons to have the same protectiveness as he has over their mother and sister.  

“Come on, hold my hand.” You say taking each of their hands in your own. Carlos crosses the road first and then you. He opens the car door for you. It’s almost ironic for this retired championship formula one driver to now be the one driving a mini-van. It is his fault, he just can’t keep his hands off his wife. Carlos wouldn’t have it any other way.  

He buckles each of the kids into their car seat. The twins next to each other in the back and the two youngest in the front. Your youngest, seven month old is the best behaved. He sleeps in his car seat, that is until the twins start arguing, like always. Who had the best lunchbox, who is tallest, who mom and dad like most. Even though, you made sure they had the same lunchbox, they’re twins and thus the same height and like all parents, you don’t have a favourite.  

“Oi! Stop arguing, you’ll wake up your brother.” Carlos commands, his tongue moving fast in his home language. It still gets you all warm when he speaks Spanish. “Sorry, papa,” they say in unison. You just sigh and shake your head. “Papa?” Your daughter, Bianca calls out. “Yes, my princess?” Carlos replies. “Ice-cream?” The little girl asks, your heart melts and you’re certain that your husband is also a puddle. “After we pick up Junior, we’ll go out for ice-cream.”  

Your kids scream in excitement, causing your baby to start whimpering and then soon crying. “Ai, mi amour.” Carlos sighs and shakes his head, his eyes meet yours in the rear-view mirror while you sit next to your youngest children. You slightly lean over your seat and give him a kiss on his greying temples. “It’s okay, my love.”  

You’ve got Raúl, your youngest, strapped into your sling. Bianca sits high on Carlos’ shoulders, daddy’s little girl. Her fingers gripped into his salt and pepper hair. You can’t help but reach up and untangle her fingers. “My love, when did you start going grey?” You ask Carlos, staring into his warm brown eyes. He just laughs and shakes his head.  

“Must you point it out? I feel so old compared to the other parents...” He mutters, the other parents are around your age, some even younger. “I like it though...a silver fox.” He once again laughs and sighs. “No, mi amor.” You grin wildly at his reaction. “41 Isn’t that old...” He mumbles and again you just smirk. “I mean, Alonso was still racing at 41...” 

That really does get him, he bursts out laughing. “Yeah, you’re not wrong...” Then you feel Dario tug on your hand. “Look, Mama!” You see kids, with backpacks looking far too big for their tiny bodies, come pouring out of classroom. Then your eldest son, you can’t help but smile seeing he’s chatting with other kids. And then his big brown eyes look up and see Carlos, he begins running.  

The little boy runs up and hugs Carlos around the legs. Your twins greet their oldest brother. Bianca waves down to her brother from above. Junior gleams up, you remember when you gave birth to Bianca, Junior wanted to do everything for her. He’d carry her around every chance he got.  

“Come, papa said we can have ice-cream.” You tell Junior after he hugs you. “Really?” He asks, his eyes beaming up. Carlos winks and then nods.  

Ding! Your phone has a notification. You grab your phone on the nightstand. “Who is it?” Carlos asks, coming out of the shower. All five of your kids are fast asleep. You read the text. “It’s Alex.” She and Charles had married 3 years ago, no kids yet. “What does she say?” Carlos asks, lying down in the bed next to you, taking your phone and reading the text.  

“Hey Y/N, we miss you, why don’t we go out and party tonight? Leave the kids with Carlos.” She texted in the group chat, and Kika added. “We haven’t seen you in like years now that Carlos isn’t racing anymore.” Carlos just laughs at their antics. He hands your phone back to you. “Do you want to go?” He asks, raising his brow.  

When was the last time you went out alone? When was the last time that you weren’t with Carlos? Since he retired...there hasn’t really been a second alone? It would be kind of nice, to talk about something other than the kids... “I’d prefer if you didn’t...” Carlos mutters, he crawls down to your stomach. He gently lifts your pyjama short and kisses your stomach. “Pregnant and all...”  

You just smile, combing your fingers through his salt and pepper hair. You pick up your phone and text your friends in the groupchat. “Sorry, girls, can’t have alcohol...🙈” You get a quick reply back. “Again?!” “Didn’t you like just give birth???” Your cheeks go red at their comments. You feel the urge to send them a photo of Carlos kissing your stomach, but don’t. You do, however, take a photo, saving it for later and then put the phone down.  

“I hope it’s another girl.” He mutters, placing small kisses on your stomach. You can’t help but smirk. “I hope it’s the last one.” You mutter, playing with his hair. He pouts, placing his chin gently on your stomach. “Why? You look so fucking good pregnant.” He says, lust in his gaze. You just laugh and roll your eyes. “To you, maybe. But I’m telling you, my love, I don’t want to have to drive a limousine to their schools.”  

You can see him think for a moment. “You mean it? No more kids?” He says, jutting out his bottom lip and making his eyes gleam. It’s hard to say no to him, but you stay firm, for once in your life. You actually wanted to stop after the twins. Not that you love Bianca and Raúl any less.  

But this number six is the most difficult so far. You’re taking both pre-and-postnatals at the same time. “Yes, I mean it.” You say, stern. You’d like your body to be yours again...“Alright, I’ll get the snip. I don’t want you on those damn pills. I can’t fucking stand them, they’re unnatural.” He mutters, his jaw locking...  

Huh...Always thinking about your well-being...  

“You look so fucking good as a mom. Seeing how much they adore you. It’s hard to keep my hands off you.” He snarls, his kisses on your stomach becoming more sloppy. He trails up to your lips. Capturing your lips in his. So furious and desperate on your lips. “I love you, mi amor. You’re mine. Only mine.”  

Request are open.

[daisyducklover2021]

I can text in the sky

[sloppyzengarden]

Terrible News

I have some awful news. My main blog @justjams2003 has been shadowbanned. None of my posts are showing and none of the people on the taglist have seen the post. I have emailed the help centre several times and haven't gotten a reply in 2 weeks. So, while we wait, this is my solution:

I will tag everyone in the Fast Pace Taglist and link the new part of the story. I'm only going to do this for part five and then the other parts (which I have written until 9) will be uploaded when I have been unbanned. I'm so sorry for this inconvenience and hope this is solved soon <3

Fast Pace-5

Taglist: @httpjeonlicious, @f1lov3r, @messersandmesses, @hollie911, @oriconde08 @thehufflepuffavenger1 @fanboyluvr @thatgirlmj @whyamireadingthis @oriconde08 @depressedriches @roseseraj @skepvids @sain55wifey @distinguishedvoidlady @amatswimming @sachaa-ff @lightdragonrayne @lazybot @dark-night-sky-99 @formula1mount @fangirl-dot-com @saintslewis

[georgeanntremblyblog]

[alsktudy]

YOURE GOING TOO FAST BABY.

I DONT KNOW WHATS WRONG BABY.

YOURE GOING TOO FAST BABY.

sir... im sorry but that's attempted murder...

[punkrockmixtapes]

Listen/purchase: Fast Pace by Grade 2

[thewinterwitchchild]

I said I was back... and here I am! That sounds more threatening than its supposed to but please accept this apology chapter for my long absence!

I know what I want to happen in the next one, so fingers crossed I will be able to get it written in the next week or two. That's the goal at least!

Until then: Please enjoy Lando being sick!

[linuxgamenews]

Shroom Siege: A New Steam Demo Coming Soon

Shroom Siege fast-paced strategic multiplayer game due to makes it's way onto Linux, Mac, and Windows PC. Thanks to the talented folks at Upside Down Bird for making this happen. Due to makes its way onto Steam this summer. Have you heard about Shroom Siege from Upside Down Bird? This team-based arcade action platformer is due to launch on Linux, Mac, and Windows PC via Steam in 2025. Exciting news – there's a new Steam demo releasing on Tuesday, August 6th. Get ready to dive into this wild world. In the game, you start as a tiny mushroom in a kingdom where fungi rule and control the surrounding insectoids. Your goal? Use your shroom skills to infect and control more powerful creatures. The title features 4v4 fast-paced strategic multiplayer battles that will test your strategy and reflexes. Victory in Shroom Siege comes in three flavors: Shrine, Shogun, and... Poop?! Here's the lowdown on each: Shrine Victory: Guide your Minions to collect small orbs and offer them to shrines. This mode is all about speed and caution since Minions respawn indefinitely. Playing it safe is the name of the game here. Shogun Victory: Take out the opposing Shogun three times. The Shogun is a powerful flying creature with a deadly samurai sword. This mode is high-risk, high-reward. So make sure you don’t make any fatal mistakes, or you'll give the other team a chance to win.

Shroom Siege - Official Demo Trailer

Poop Victory: This one’s hilarious and a bit gross. Mount a Dung Beetle and roll a poop payload to the other side of the map. It’s slow, but winners say it's the most satisfying way to win. Losers, on the other hand, find it quite humiliating. Each map in Shroom Siege is a single screen, so you can see all the action and strategize accordingly. Beyond quick reflexes, this is all about communication and teamwork. You can play with friends locally or online, forming two teams of four. Plus, there’s cross-platform play, so you can match up with players from all over the world. The story behind the creation is pretty nice too. The original version was created during the 2023 Global Game Jam. According to Ben Hamrick, Developer at Upside Down Bird, "Like a mushroom, the project kept growing, and we hope others will enjoy our wacky, fast-paced strategic multiplayer title." Shroom Siege is coming to Linux, Mac, and Windows PC via Steam in 2025. Mark your calendars for the Steam Linux demo on Tuesday, August 6th. The demo will feature English text, with more languages coming soon. So get ready to conquer the fungus kingdom and show off your shroom strategy. Shroom Siege promises a ton of fun, whether you're aiming for a Shrine, Shogun, or Poop Victory. See you on the battlefield.

[bamsara]

I think that one thing people fail to understand is that unsolicited literary criticism coming from an online stranger who is reading with no knowledge of what the authors intended goal is, is not going to be received the same as say: the authors beta reader or friends who know what the authors intended goal and has the sufficient knowledge and input to help the author reach that desired outcome.

"But I'm only trying to be helpful" How do I know you have the knowledge and literary skill for you to be able to actaully do that when we don't know each other and you are essentially a stranger to me? Are you applying this criticism based out of personal biased experience and desire to see the story or characterization be driven in another direction or tweaked, or do you know the author's intentions for the character? If the story is incomplete, are you basing your criticism of a character on the incomplete narration with only partial information available of them or are you building up a report until the story's completion? Did the author provide you with the information needed to make a fully informed criticism?

Have you discussed with the author what their plans are or are you assuming them based off the narration, especially if the narration is proven or implied to be unreliable or missing key points of the plot? Are you unbiased enough to help them reach their desired outcome for the characters and story regardless of your personal feelings towards the characters/antagonists and setting? Can you handle being told your specific input isn't wanted because you're a reader and/or have no written anything relating to their genre or topic? Do you understand and respect that the author's personal experiences might influence their writing and make it different than how you would have done it personally? Do you understand if an author only wants input from a specific demographic relating to their story?

If it's for fanfiction or other hobby media, are you holding a free hobby to a professional standard? Are you trying to give criticism because you feel like the author has produced 'subpar job performance' of their fic? Are you viewing their work as a personal intimate outlet or something that must conform with mass media? Are you applying rules and guidelines when the fic is shared for simple sharing sake? Is your criticism worded appropriately and focused on the parts where the author has requested input on rather than a general dismissal and or disapproval?

Have you put yourself in a place where you assumed you have the input needed for the story to evolve better, or have you asked what the author needs and what they're having trouble with? Can you handle having your criticism rejected if the author decides their story doesn't need the change and not take it as a personal offense against your character? Are you crossing that boundary because you think you are doing the author a favor? Are you trying to be helpful, or do you just want to be?

I think sometimes when people hear authors go 'please don't give me unsolicited writing advice or criticism' they automatically chalk it up to 'this author doesn't want ANY constructive feedback on their stuff at all' and not "i already have trusted individuals who will help me with my writing goals and- hey i don't know you like that, please stop acting so overly familiar with me'

[justjams2003]

Fast Pace- 12

Before we start, I'd just like to wish you all a very happy New Year! Know that there is plenty more to come from me in the coming year. And also thank you all for 420 followers (haha nice), I'm still in shock that people keep coming back and wants more. Believe it or not, this is the most active community and website I have ever written for and I'm so glad to have found Tumblr. Anyways enjoy xoxo

Summary: You're a hard-working Chef in Paris and after a freak accident run-in with Carlos Sainz, your life makes a 180. Let's just say with a certain agreement, you get your bills paid and in return stand in as Carlos' girlfriend for the press. But will you be able to handle the pressure and ensure the lines don't blur?

Pairing: Sugar Daddy!Carlos Sainz x Sugar Baby!Reader

Warnings: I've aged up Carlos, he is 33 in this fic. Smoking, smut, sexual themes, age difference, manipulation, control, slight obsession, the word 'daddy', nudity, a garbage family, family trauma, disowning, tell me if I missed any

Taglist: @httpjeonlicious, @f1lov3r, @messersandmesses, @hollie911, @oriconde08 @thehufflepuffavenger1 @fanboyluvr @thatgirlmj @whyamireadingthis @oriconde08 @depressedriches @roseseraj @skepvids @sain55wifey @distinguishedvoidlady @amatswimming @sachaa-ff @lightdragonrayne @lazybot @formula1mount @fangirl-dot-com @saintslewis @carlossainzwho @lordpercevalcharles @topguncultleader @kitixie @serp3ns0rtiae @hangmandruigandmav @therealone4r @keii134 @dark-night-sky-99 @jax-the-oregonian @hachrinnen

Word count: 3,1k

Masterlist

Part 11~Part 13 (coming soon)

“Echanté de voi rencontre, Monsur.” Carlos is trying his best, but at the moment he is butchering your home-tongue. You can’t but be nervous, he however seems as calm as a cucumber about meeting your parents. He’s got the sunglasses on that you gave him. You can see from where your sitting, your initials carved into the side. “No, no, mon cher. Good try, but it’s Enchanté de vous rencontrer, Monsieur.”  

He sighs, rubbing his face in his hands. He looks so much more relaxed already. He’s got short khaki’s on and a casual button up shirt. You’ve hired a more practical car for the week, one with a big trunk. You got your family lots of presents and might have overpacked a bit. Still not used to having such a big amount of money. But even still, you have the sunroof open, enjoying the county side air.  

“I’m sorry, mi querida,” he shakes his head and rakes his fingers through his hair. You can’t help yourself, tucking the stray hairs that fray in the wind behind his ears. “I should’ve gotten a haircut before we came.” He sighs, but you can see that he enjoys your touch. “No, it is the perfect length, don’t change a thing about it.” He gives a side-eye but you can only laugh. “No, it’s in the way.” 

You pout, “No, your hair is just long enough to...grab...” you mutter, taking a handful of hair and pulling on it ever so slightly. Surprisingly, a growl escapes his throat. The noise causes a warmth to spread through your body.

The sunlight hits his skin just beautifully, he looks like hot caramel. Something you want to drizzle into your mouth. You’re sure you could cook a steak on his sizzling skin.  

“This is your home then?” He asks, while caring the bags. He refuses to let you carry a single one. You nod and then knock on the door. “It is a small house for 7 people, no?” He’s not wrong. “Oui, us three girls had to share a room and the boys shared a room.” He grimaces at your words, “Then one day we will have a big house.” You blush at his words and wrap your arms around his, all while subtly taking a photo.  

The door opens, you only now realise how short your mom has gotten. Or maybe it really has been so long. “Ah, ma fille, tu viens enfin rendre visite à ta vieille mère. Cela fait si longtemps et enfin tu ramènes un homme à la maison!” She instantly starts rambling and then opens up her arms and gives Carlos a big hug. “N'es-tu pas si beau? Quel est votre nom et pourquoi êtes-vous avec ma fille?”  

Carlos looks like a fish out of water. His face is entirly blank and he just seems to be nodding along. “Enchanté de vous rencontrer, Mademoiselle,” he stutters through the French, his Spanish accent still blatantly obvious. Your mother just frowns at his bad French. “He doesn’t speak French.” Her wide smile turns sour, “Pourquoi faire venir un homme inutile qui ne parle pas français?”  

You sigh and then nudge him, “the presents,” you whisper. “Il s'appelle Carlos et il a apporté des cadeaux.” Now she really does smile as he holds up the presents. “Oui, come in, come in.” Like always, he allows you to walk in first.

“What did she say?” He asks to you in a whisper. You sigh and shake your head. “Nothing that you need to worry yourself about.” You give him a kiss on the cheek, trying to soothe his usually worry.  

“Apportez-lui quelque chose à boire, je suis sûr qu'il est fatigué après son très long voyage.” You sigh, of course she asks that of you. As if you and him didn’t have the same trip. You turn to Carlos after he sat down along with your mother to open her present, that you picked out. 

 “Carlos, what would you like to drink?” He frowns and then stands up. He takes your arm and then leads you to the couch. “You must be tired, mi querido, it was a four-hour trip, I’m sure you are tired.” He leads you to sit down next to him, he pulls you into his side. Everything in you wants to cuddle into his side, but you can feel your mother’s judgemental eyes on you.  

Instead, you shake your head, “My mother insists that I get you something to drink. You did drive after all.” You can see the tick in his jaw, clearly not happy with this. He smiles, forced clearly, “Please tell your mother I don’t need anything to drink.” You sigh and do just so and she replies with some comment insisting you do just that. Yes, you are exhausted but even still you stand and pour him a drink.  

“Je vais lui montrer la chambre.” You grab him by the arm and pull him up towards your old bedroom. Quite ungracefully you fall on your childhood bed. He smirks, but his smile is quick to fall. “Mi dulce niña, does she always make you feel like this?” Carlos asks you give and exhausted laugh. “You don’t even know what she said,” you peak at him, and he pulls you into his lap.  

He kisses your forehead, “Tell me," You sigh and rest you head on his shoulder. “When she met you, she went, ‘you’re so handsome why are you dating my daughter?’ And then she went, ‘you’re so stupid bringing a man that doesn’t even speak French.’ Then after that it was, ‘poor thing he’s so tired bring him something to drink.’ As if I wasn’t on the exact same trip as you!”  

His jaw locks and his arms wrap tighter around you, “Does she always speak to you like that,” you sigh and sink deeper into his arms. “Why do you think I brought you with. Call you my armour,” you laugh, actually hiding behind his arms. He laughs, but it’s the same type of awkward type, “Where is your dad, is he any better?”  

You hum and then walk down the stairs again after taking your breather and then ask your Maman where your father is. “He is outside with your brother, working hard as always,” she says, still in French.

“Really, which one?” You ask, opening the back door, only to see your oldest brother chopping wood while your father carves the same wood right next to him. “Bér!” You call out and once he sees you, he smiles.  

You walk into the back fields, Carlos trailing behind you and when you do finally meet your brother, he gives you a warm hug. “Finally, back in your own country,” he comments, and you can’t help but furrow your brows. “What do you mean?” You ask, you haven’t told anyone about anything. “You think I haven’t noticed? I am not like Mama and Papa who do not own a phone and use the library’s computer to email you.”  

You frown and watch his eyes. They’re train on Carlos who seems to be struggling with the mud and his very expensive shoes. “Traveling the world with mister Armani,” he teases you like always, and you can’t help but step on his shoes. “Enchanté, Monsieur.” Carlos holds out his hand and it makes you and your brother laugh out loud. “Don’t worry, race-man... I am not her father.” You jab your brother in the stomach.  

“But he’s even worse.” He groans and then begins complaining in French but you’re quick to stop him. “Connard, you know Carlos doesn’t speak French, clearly, you’ve been stalking him. So don’t be an ass,” Bérenger sighs at your words and then translates for Carlos.

“I was just saying that I you see in your fancy Ferrari and your expensive shoes, no one in the family can understand someone like you being with a dull girl like her.” He shrugs and you both laugh, it’s the way you talk as siblings.  

Even so, Carlos’ expression turns sour. “He much more than that Bérenger, now, play nice.” Before you turn to leave to say hello to your father, you ask your brother one last thing. This time in French, because you’d rather not have Carlos know just yet. “How is Papa today?” You brother hesitates, knowing exactly what you’re talking about. “He’s there, like before, no confusion yet today.”  

You nod and make your way over. “Bonjour Papa, I’ve come to visit.” Your father looks up to you, his eyes clear. Not that his personality has changed much, he replies in a gruff tone. “Who’s the boy?” His eyes are like daggers on Carlos.

“He’s my boyfriend,” your dad rolls his eyes. “Yeah, sure. And for how long is he going to put up with you?” You laugh, like always keeping the peace. “I’m not some terrible burden. At least, not in his eyes.”  

Like always he just replies with a scoff.  

Before long, you’re washing dishes after dinner. “Mi paloma, please tell your mother the dinner was delicious.” You can feel his big strong arms wrap around your waist. You’re sure he's feeling a bit alone. It’s only been you and your brother here who can even speak English.

You smile, “Thank you, Carlos, but she didn’t make it.” It’s the truth, the whole evening Bérenger and Carlos chopped wood, all while you have to take care of your mother’s ever whim, like always.  

It doesn’t bother you; it’s always been like this. But you can tell it’s getting to Carlos. “No wonder I liked it so much, it’s your cooking. But, mi dulce niña, you barely ate, aren’t you hungry?” He caresses yours even as you continue washing. “Thank you, Carlos, it’s nice hearing some positive words after that dinner.” He sighs, burrowing his face on the crook of your neck.  

“You’re avoiding my question.” He places small kisses here and there. “It’s not in the diet plan,” it’s an excuse, your mother had been commenting on your weight all evening. Yes, it’s true you’d gained weight, but you’d been working out and most of it is muscle. But her words are sharp, and the thoughts are springing up. If it makes her happy, better so. He does his usual noise when he’s unhappy when something.  

“Tomorrow I’ll cook dinner,” you gasp, turning to him, his words have caused delight in you. “I’d like to see that,” his brows furrow but a smug look is on his face. “What? You don’t think I can?” In your mind, yes, he has a difficult life, but that’s just stress. He has personal chefs and personal trainers and likely his father had too. Not way did he ever learn to cook. “No, not at all.” 

You cross your arms, and he just laughs. “Fine then, I'll show you. You can even post it on your Instagram.” This sparks joy, you love seeing people’s reactions to you and him.

So far, they’ve been nothing but positive. In these short three weeks you’ve gotten 50k new followers. If they’re there for you or Carlos, doesn’t matter to you. You’ll give them what they want either way.  

“You mean it?” Your hands reach up and take hold of his shirt. “Only if you eat,” and with that you bite your lip and nod. “Okay, you’ve got yourself a deal.” He sighs, takes a drying rag and begins helping you by putting away the dishes. “Oh Carlos! Ne perdez pas votre temps avec la vaisselle, Y/N la fera. Laisse-moi te montrer ses photos de bébé.”  

You sigh, leaning your head against his chest. “Oh no,” his brows furrow pulling you away to see what the matter is. “She wants to show you my baby pictures.” A deep laugh escapes his chest. “Mi querida, I’d love to help you finish this, but I can’t miss that.” You laugh but do allow him to see little you.  

“What colour are you choosing?” You ask your mother, watching as she scans through the different nail polishes. Like expect she chooses a toned-down pink, she rarely does her nails but when she does, it’s always that same colour. “Why don’t you choose something different? Look I’m going with this black with gold shimmer. We’re somewhere nice, don’t you want to use the opportunity?”  

Your mother just looks at you over her glasses. “And why is that?” It’s already Thursday, the week had been going by slower than you expected it would and only made you realise why you visit so little.

The only good thing so far has been your father’s awareness, he’s had a few moments of unclarity these past few months. Even so, just like growing up, he doesn’t exactly stand up for you against your mother’s badgering.  

Like always, it's just the usual gruff short replies and relative quietness. Carlos, however, has been nothing but kind. The dinner he cooked was amazing, the fans swooned in your comments. At night he’d hold you tight and whisper sweet nothings. All about how beautiful you are and how you’re perfect as is. It helps, yes, but nothing compares to motherly love. You do everything you can, but still don’t feel like enough.  

“Ah, Mama, don’t be like that.” After that, she continues about the gossip of the town and the lives of your siblings. That is of course until you’re sitting at the dinner table again. Enjoying the food Carlos has crafted to fit both of your diets, showing him your nails. He loves them and makes sure to kiss your knuckles.  

That is, until your mother interrupts your bliss. “Y/N, what did you say Carlos does?” You bite the inside of your cheek. “He is a Formula one driver.” You mutter, trying to hide yourself behind her sharp glare. “And are you still a chef?” You swallow your food; you’ve been avoiding this question for as long as possible. You shake your head, “No, Mama,” her bitter stare grows stronger.  

“So, what is it that you do?” She raises her voice, now your father seems interested. “I am working on my modelling career.” Both your parents groan and gasp in raised tones. “This again,” your brother mutters, he too has been harsh with you. “Why do you keep going on and on about this modelling. Ever since you were small. My daughter, you know I love you, but you aren’t like those pretty girls.”  

Her words are like knifes; knifes reopening wounds you’d been working so hard to heal. Carlos takes your hand under the table. This whole time he’d been encouraging you to stand up for yourself. Convincing you that what they’re saying aren’t normal and that you shouldn’t tolerate it. You’ve tried persuading him or more yourself that she’s your mother and she does it out of love.  

But she’s been ungrateful all week. As if she hasn’t been begging you to come home and talk to her. She comments on everything, your weight, your hair even your laugh. Saying you squeal like a pig, you tried to laugh less after that one. She hates her nails and all the presents you brought home. More than all, you’ve been dreading this happening. Hoping that it never would.  

“No, Mama, I do not know that you love me,” she gasps and begins screaming even more. “How could you not know? I raised you. I fed you, clothed you, gave you the deposit to get your degree. Which you don’t even use now!” The anger over comes you and you rise from your chair. “Carlos will gladly pay back all that money if I was such a burden on you!”  

The whole table goes eerily quiet. Soon it is interrupted by a scoff from your brother. “So what? He’s like your Sugar Daddy, right?” You take a moment to calm down, trying to decide if you’re going to say the truth. But they're your family. You should never lie to your family, right? “Yes,” you take his hand back into yours. You can see that he’s picked up his name and knows he’s being discussed.  

“What is that, Bérenger?” Your mother asks, switching between you and your brother. “She fucks him for money. A glorified prostitute!” His words are harsh and spit flies as he screams. You know for a fact that if Carlos understood French, he’d be raging.

“Unbelievable!” Your mother gasps out and another raging fire starts in you. “What? Is it so unbelievable that someone could actually love me so much that they’d pay to see me?”  

Years and years or anger and trauma, built up due to constant belittlement finally breaks through. “Why does it shock you all so much that he thinks I’m beautiful. That he thinks I’m more worth than all the riches in the world. You hate it that someone actually respects me, because you can’t knock me down anymore.”

Again, the table goes quiet before your brother speaks again. This time in English, clearly wanting Carlos to understand what he’s saying.  

“He doesn’t respect you. He doesn’t care for you. And he most certainly doesn’t love you. He just wants to fuck you. And once he’s bored of you, he’ll take what he’s given and leave you with nothing.” Before you can curse out your brother, a sharp crack is heard. Your brother is on the floor, nursing a bloody nose. “Don’t you ever, ever talk to her like that ever again.”  

You can hear your mother rambling on about her poor son and can only scoff at her reaction. “I’m not some city boy who doesn’t know how to throw a punch. You won’t believe how strong 6G’s of force make you.” Through all the commotion, there is a muttering that can be heard. Listening carefully, it is your father. “Get out, get out,” he repeats over and over.  

You bow your head down low, right by his ear but just shake off his words. This irritates him and he too raises his voice. “Get out, you’re no daughter of mine.” You laugh at his words, “Don’t be silly, Papa, you must be having one of your episodes.” You go to rub his back, in your mind to soothe him but he grabs your wrist before he can.  

“Hear me when I say this girl, because I am clear of mind when I do. While you are still whoring yourself out to this man, you are no daughter of mine.” The realisation hits you like a truck. So much so, that you stagger back, Carlos catching you as your head becomes dizzy. “Mi pequeña, what is the matter?” All you can do is shake your head.  

“Come, Carlos, it seems that we are not welcome here.”   

Just so p.s. me not translating the French and Spanish is for a reason. I'm not just being spiteful, it is part of the storytelling. If you want to get a good grade in fanfic reading (which is totally possible and a very normal thing to want) feel welcome to translate it ���

Tag list is open, just ask!

[daisyducklover2021]

Serving Ice Cream on a Mountain.

[forgettable-au]

FORGETTABLE-AU (Page 61-64)

* I-I don't think we were talking about the same thing...

[BEGINNING] [PREVIOUS] [CONTINUE]

[paimt]

its just supervised phone calls like

in the wise words of stan himself: give me money

[andisupreme]

I moved recently to start a new job and part of my commute now involves one of those high capacity toll booths where a two lane road suddenly flares out into 5-7 lanes of total anarchy with no lines anywhere, and then narrows back down to two lanes again, and we're just supposed to sort ourselves out? Who designed this

anyway I dreamed up this helpful anatomical guide on the drive home

[panthrology]

waking up horny in the dead of night with SUGURU GETO as your boyfriend is actual hell sometimes

i just know that this man has the worst attitude when really tired. who can blame him? being a guy as hot as he is cannot be easy.

“girl—” suguru would grunt and turn back over after shaking him awake for dick. for dick. yeah self-inflicted really. other times he wouldn't say anything at all, just shoot you a nasty look.

but a girl has her needs.

“baby please?” you try again, perching your chin onto his buff arm. “the dream was a little too detailed.” a small pout forms on your puckered lips.

“that isn't my fault,” suguru counters, the soft bass in his voice resounding in your shared bedroom. “you couldn't have waited until there was light outside?”

you shake your head.

“must be tough. good night, sweetheart.”

this man. you groan out an exasperated ‘suguru!’ and curve over his form, staring at him as if he can see you through his closed eyelids.

“no, y/n.”

“i’ll top?”

you lied.

you knew damn well you couldn't be bothered to ride him to an orgasm at two in the morning and so did suguru. so when he scoffed and muttered “roll over.” you were grinning victoriously.

“I don't belive you.” suguru hissed, lifting up your hoodie over your hips and feeling up the skin of your ass.

“sorry, sugu’.” you're breathless already when he starts spreading the globes of your ass apart to take a good look at your cunt through low lidded eyes with the sleep and arousal still weighing them down. suguru merely tutted, wrapping a hand around his bobbing cock to push his tip in for the second time tonight.

you tensed as you sunk your head into the pillow in front of you. suguru had a big dick. you knew that much from the time you caught wind of what his attitude was like. nonchalant, quiet confidence, tall, pretty large hands. You'd be surprised if he didn't.

“y/n..if you don't relax. I can't move if you're trying to crush me.” you roll your eyes—so dramatic.

you ease up, but quickly choke on your breath when he slides all the way in, filling you with his thick inches. your pussy flutters at the intrusion, squeezing suguru again. “shiittt baby..” yeah—he undoubtedly missed that.

and when suguru sees your ass ripple and hips jump forward with every deep thrust, he suddenly thinks that he made a good decision.

but he was still fucking tired.

“mm-mm, don't run from me, sweetheart. you wanted me to give it to you, so take it—take this dick ‘fore I take it away.”

“you're so needy, can't even let a man sleep.”

“pretty girl just can't stop creamin’ all over me, so cute.”

“listen t'thaat, it's like your pussy's doin’ all the talking. have i made you dumb already, sweetheart?

for someone who’s so fatigued, he can't seem to shut up at all. mumbling and groaning nastiness all up in your ear like he's drunk on your pussy. suguru thinks he just might be.

he's got a firm grip on your hair and one digging into the fat of your hip, balls thwacking against your sticky cunt. suguru's strokes are mean, every ridge of his cock rubbing against your cushy walls. you're actually drooling, the dizzying mixture of exhaustion and pleasure making you float higher than the pearly gates. Yet with the way your hole squelches when he goes real deep..and his fat tip grinds on that one spot, you're going anywhere but heaven.

You don't even have to say it, suguru knows. suguru knows you're about to cum when he can feel you sporadically squeeze him and when your moans get longer and higher against the pillow you bury yourself into.

“gonna cum already?” he's giggling, the trembles of your ankles and the way your fist tightens not going unnoticed by him. “fuck me back, then. show me how bad you wanna cum on me.” he stops all motion before yawning out loud, a lazy hand reaching his face to cover his mouth. how sexy.

pressing your lips together, you brace your hands out in front of you and swing your ass back on suguru. you were on thin ice right now, and with his snarky attitude, he literally might just leave you high and dry.

your knees are unsteady and shaky but you persevere, looking over your shoulder to see jet black strands hang over his face and shoulders, and amber eyes steeled on where you two connect. his lips are parted slightly as he huffs out a gravelly groan.

“yeah, jus’ like that. fuck me.” suguru praises, words sliding over each other slightly. he picks up the pace again, balls tightening as his head hangs low. he listens to your drawn out moans, sounding more like broken sobs with each stroke he gives you and it makes him dizzy. “‘m gonna cum, i'm gonna cum.” he's whining now.

“inside, sugu’—don't stop!” you beg as you spasm around him, milking your boyfriend.

suguru huffs out a laugh, a lazy grin stretches on his lips. he loves seeing you needy and mind-fucked like this—it scratches an itch deep in his soul. “alright. stay still f'me sweetheart—gonna give it to ya how you like.”

a shattered whimper rips from your throat as he pushes his hips all the way forward, and rams himself all the way in so his cock bullies that spot, the one that makes your cunt gush.

“o-ohh, my god! right there..’s right there, ‘m gonna cuumm..” you wail but he shushes you, the volume of your moans making him wince.

“make a mess pretty girl,” he grunts before his jaw goes slack and ropes of his sticky load flood your cunt. “fuuuckk..” but he doesn't stop—he powers through his orgasm and into overstimulation. suguru smiles when your eyes roll back and your limbs go limp, wailling into the satin pillowcase as you cum and cream onto him.

you think you black out for a second with your ears ringing and heart hammering in your chest. knees falling flat, your entire body slumps forward into the mattress as the aftershocks of your orgasm shoot through you like lightning. you could practically feel the beads of sweat sliding down your body underneath your hoodie.

when a warm and wet rag slides against your slit and inner thighs, you glance behind you and see an entirely spent suguru. he's continuously yawning while he pulls your flimsy underwear back up, before tossing the damp towel into the dirty laundry basket.

“thank you sugu’,” a satisfied sigh escapes your lips as he tucks you into his embrace, yet all suguru can do is scoff. you couldn't help but giggle at his annoyance, smiling like a cat who got the cream.

literally.

“next time, I'll just ignore you and get my well deserved sleep,” he spits, resting his chin atop your head.

totally worth it.

© NEPTNSZN 2024 ★ please do NOT copy, repost or modify my pieces, apply credit when necessary.

[thewinterwitchchild]

hope you're well.

just wanted to let you know your pando story is one ofmy favs

will there be an update??

Hey ya,

I am so sorry! Yes, there will be an update!!! I am about halfway through, but to be honest I am having the life version of McLaren's first half of the season. Meaning: utter garbage. So been dealing with that which has basically been taking up more and more of my bandwidth till I had nothing left to give. But I am trying to get back to it and hopefully have another chapter done some time this month!

Thank you so much for checking in ❤❤❤❤