#he can get out of it and exactly how far he can squish it before it starts being too much

[swordsandholly]

Cherry Bomb - tattoo parlor anthology

MDNI | poly 141 x fem fat reader | masterlist

Part 5: Night Out

You find yourself squeezed into the center of a round corner booth, Johnny to your left and Kyle to your right with John beside him. The bar is relatively quiet, even for a Saturday night. It is early, though. Plenty of time left in the night for more people to file in. Apparently they go out drinking every third week of the month, a day set aside for them to be together and celebrate another month of success. It’s sweet that they invited you, if not a little nerve wracking - you’re not exactly sure how much they plan on drinking and you’ve been known to be rather… sloppy after one too many.

You nervously adjust your top while Johnny yaps about the equipment sales person with the incredible ass. It’s hard not to squirm being packed in between them, hyper aware of the width of your hips and the size of your arms as they squish against far more toned, muscular limbs. A mean itch in the back of your mind lectures you about taking up too much space - about inconveniencing the people around you. About the optics of the pitiable fat girl tolerated by the handsome men around her.

An elbow to your arm finally knocks you out of your daze. “Och! There he is!”

You blink, following Johnny’s gaze to the man climbing into the booth beside him. It takes your brain a moment to catch up, processing the person in front of you. Your eyes turn to saucers as you realize it’s Simon - signature tattoos, piercings and all - just without his usual surgical mask. It shouldn’t make that much a difference, he still has that low brow and big dark eyes that slide over to you and make your stomach flip…but now you get the addition of his crooked nose, broken more than once and not set right, a small cleft scar leading down to a part of pretty, pink lips that quirk up in the corners when he catches you staring. A few scars scattered across his sharp jaw you hadn’t noticed before and a light layer of blonde stubble around each engraving on his face.

“You’re pretty!?” You gasp, words tumbling out of your mouth before you can stop them. You bury your face in your hands while the others (Johnny) burst out in a fit of laughter. Simon’s shoulders shake in that signature, barely audible chuckle as he settles into the booth. Suddenly you feel a little less self conscious about the amount of space you take up in comparison.

John orders a round for everyone. Some light mixers to sip while you talk. You stick to listening, mostly, while the boys talk shop. You pick up a few personal tidbits here and there - specifically about Simon’s apparent sweet tooth as Johnny teases him about going through an entire package of licorice in one sitting. You file that away for later. Apparently John got his start after he enlisted in the military and got several very shitty tattoos during the first couple of years. Dropped out to get an apprenticeship, figuring he could do better. Kyle rolls his eyes, as if he’d heard the tale a few too many times.

“Where ye thinkin’ of lettin’ Kyle ink ye?” Johnny leans in close, breaking out of the group conversation.

You tilit your head. “Haven’t really thought about it. Wherever he’s comfortable, I guess.”

“Givin’ him free reign? Tha’s dangerous, bonnie. Might put it somewhere scandalous.”

“Wouldn’t be the first.” You blurt, regretting it immediately when you see that impish sparkle in his eye.

Johnny dips closer to you, shoulder pressing against yours. “Oh? Thought ye were a good girl, hen.”

“I’ve got a couple you haven’t, and will never get close enough to see, MacTavish.” You laugh.

“Is tha’ a challenge?” He grins, hand just barely ghosting over your thigh.

You shrug, face hot. ”Even if it was, you’d lose.”

There’s probably something deeply wrong with flirting with your coworkers while your boss sits a foot away, but your skin is too warm and your drink tastes to good for you to focus on that fleeing thought for long.

“From the gentleman at the bar.” A woman appears in front of your table, sliding a glass of pink cocktail toward you.

You stare at it before glancing up to meet a pair of dark eyes. He’s handsome, smiles and nods before going back to his own drink. Something cold runs down your spine, the bar warping for only a second. Your lip catches between your teeth before you push it away.

“That’s bold.” John scoffs, a twitch in his brow.

“Not gonnae take a free drink, bon?” Johnny teases, batting at your arm. “He’s no’ half bad lookin’. I’d take a bite.”

“I don’t take drinks from strange men.” You snap, a little harsher than you meant as you push the glass even further. “You can have it if you want.”

There’s a beat where you keep your eyes square on the table, waiting for an insistence that you take it, that you talk to him, that you just do what he wants because he seems nice enough. That you’ve ruined the mood by being sensitive, like you always do. Instead, Johnny grabs the glass and downs whatever fruity cocktail was inside.

“Alright, if I pass out ye have t’ carry me now.” He laughs, the conversation returning to the same pace as before. You just look up at him for a moment - his eyes bright and unwavering.

The more you’re with them, the more guilt you feel for doubting them in moments like this - but, equally, the more unreal they seem. Too perfect of men for you to have stumbled across. Too good for something as damaged as you. There’s a pang of loneliness at the thought.

You’re one again pulled from your thoughts - well, redirected, more like - when John’s arm comes to rest around the back of the booth behind Kyle, fingers brushing against your shoulder ever so slightly. You’d been noticing it more recently - John’s tendency to hover. He doesn’t cling like Johnny but he stays just a hair away. Fingers ghost over your arms and a hand hovers over your back. Sometimes he holds the back of your seat, leaning over you while looking at the appointment book, that wafting scent of leather and petrichor enveloping you.

He doesn’t look at you, talking across the table to Simon about some business thing. At least you think, you really hadn’t been listening. Maybe you should have.

“We should go check out that new place up the street.” Kyle announces, scrolling through his phone. “They’ve got great room for dancin’, apparently.”

“Is dancin’ the mood for the night?” Simon sighs, tilting his head forward. Even without the mask his expression remains placid. Difficult to read.

“Aye!” Johnny wraps an arm firmly around your shoulders. “We’ve got t’ take our little lass out on the town!”

You scoff, cheeks warming at the idea that you’re theirs. Their lass - their girl. Fuck that last drink really good to you, huh?

Johnny walks with an arm sling around Kyle’s waist ahead of you, John laughing and shaking his head at them. Simon hangs back a bit as you walk, taking small, slow steps to stay beside you with his hands in his pockets. The same as when he walks you home every night you close together. You silently revel in the safety of it - of having this massive man in your shadow to block out everything else. You risk glancing up at his face - so new to you despite knowing each other for weeks. His skin glows in the passing street lights.

So not fair that he’s been hiding lips that kissable.

That’s totally the drinks talking.

“Y’alright?” He murmurs, glancing down at you.

You jump a bit, not realizing you’d been staring, eyes wide and hazy. Since when we’re you such a lightweight? “Yeah.”

“Still bothered about that guy?”

You blink. In all honesty, you’d completely forgotten him. Too busy enjoying your time with your boys. Your boys. Your boys. Their girl. That feels really good.

“No.” You shake your head and grin. “Sorry for being weird about it.”

“Y’weren’t.” Simon shakes his head solemnly, lapsing into a comfortable silence as you walk. It’s made up for by Johnny’s forceful cover of Pink Pony Club.

The place is packed when you get there, Simon having to use his bulky form to push through and secure you all a standing table. Not that you really need it, it’s mostly so the four of you can do a few shots - as per Johnny and Kyle’s insistence. Yours too, but it’s more fun to use them as an excuse to down two green tea shots back to back. You’ve never been good at saying no anyway.

“C’mon, luv.” Kyle herds you toward the dance floor and you follow, not unaware of Johnny right at your back. Your head buzzes, the world feeling loose and slow and comfortable around you. That wall you might otherwise have up long gone as you’re safely pinned between two of your favorite boys.

Kyle’s hands trail down your sides to knead at your hips, guiding them to move in tandem with his. Johnny presses closer to your front, hooking your arms up around his neck. If you were any more sober, you might have thought twice about the way you grind back against Kyle and press your chest into Johnny - your coworkers - but as it stands you couldn’t care less. Your body buzzes with a comfortable warmth, the music seems to course through your veins. It’s so easy to let them guide you, to melt into them, to tilt your head back onto Kyle’s chest and grin up at Johnny’s big blue eyes.

It’s the loosest you’ve felt in a long, long time

Johnny says something you can’t hear, his head ducking and lips grazing the shell of your ear. A touch starved part of you wants to whine, to throw yourself into him and burrow into his chest. Bury yourself right between his ribs - surely it’s warm in there. The very sun itself housed where his heart should be.

Maybe you’re reaching the water-only time of the night.

You tilt your head, half-lidded eyes making contact with Simon’s. They’re boring into you, seemingly memorizing the way you three move against each other. Each step and sway stored away for future reference. Surely it’s in your imagination.

Eventually, you shuffle around - trading yourself for Kyle as John’s big hands come to rest respectfully on your waist. The music slows a bit, at least, making it easier to dance with your boss without feeling like you’re crossing a boundary. Not that you would mind crossing that boundary. You’d leap over it if you could - those pretty blue eyes smiling down at you in the multicolor bar light. Leather and petrichor fill your nose. There’s a spice to it that isn’t usually there. Your drunkenness sets your fingers alight as they trace up his strong arms to rest on his shoulders.

“Glad y’came tonight, dove.” John says, barely having to shout over the music. His voice just has that commanding timber to it that makes itself heard no matter the circumstance.

You give him a crooked grin. “Me too.”

John just hums, swaying you carefully. People don’t do this, a small part of you thinks. Don’t dance with their bosses. You look down to where you’re pressed together. It feels good, though. You wonder if you’re more to him than an employee - if he considers you a friend despite your inequalities of age and rank.

“Is it silly to say that I’m really happy?” You mutter, not expecting John to hear over the music.

“Not at all.” He shakes his head, dipping lower so you can hear him more clearly. “I’m very grateful that we get to have you.”

Somehow your face gets hotter and in an attempt to calm down you glance over his shoulder to where Simon still stands, leaned against the wall with a glass in hand. His eyes rake over the crowd, sometimes resting on Johnny and Kyle, sometimes you and John, sometimes they seem to just look off into the distance. A woman walks up to him. She’s pretty. Tall with dark hair. You can’t see her face - can’t tell what she says. A slimy, nosy little part of you doesn't like it, despite having no right to an opinion. Simon’s expression remains flat as he responds and she stomps away.

You turn back to John. “Does Simon not dance?”

John chuckles. “Rarely.”

You pout. “I hate that he’s all alone.”

“He’s fine, love. Promise.”

“I’m gonna ask him.”

“Good luck.” John laughs, letting you push your way out of the crowd as the current song comes to an end.

“Si!” You call loudly over the music, movements sloppy.

“Hm?” He cocks a brow.

You lock your hands around his wrist like a child trying to pull their parent toward some bright thing that caught their eye. He doesn’t pull away like a more sober you might expect. “Come dance with me!”

“I don’t dance.” He scoffs.

“Please?” You beg, giving him your best puppy dog eyes. Not nearly as effective as Johnny’s but they’ll have to do.

“No.” Even in your drunken state you notice the corner of his mouth quirk up before he forces it back down.

“You can’t stand over here all night!”

“Watch me.” Simon huffs.

You pout and let your fingers drift over his forearm, all muscle and so very vascular. His skin is warm under your hands, the ridges of scars dancing across the pads of your fingers - invisible to the eye under his tattoos.

“Well, then, I’ll just have to do what you like to do!” You say with a discerning nod, clambering up onto the stool at the table beside him.

He frowns. “Don’t let me take you away-“

“I don’t wanna leave you alone!” You continue to pout, the cotton in your head only making things fuzzier outside of your new single minded goal: Hang Out with Simon.

He looks you over for a moment, something passing through those dark eyes of his. They’re so mysterious - so deep. Like the Mariana Trench. That’s the really big one, right?

Simon sighs and downs the last of whatever golden drink was in his glass, setting it on the table beside you. “Fine. I’ll give you one song.”

You’re practically preening as you pull him into the crowd, hand firmly around his thick wrist. Part of you briefly acknowledges a few jabs from Johnny and Kyle as you pass them on their way toward the bar.

A squeak escapes you as Simon suddenly turns you around, pulling you close and leading you to the beat. He’s good. Weirdly good. You feel a bit like a floundering fish all of a sudden. It definitely doesn’t help that you’re a lot more drunk than you felt five minutes ago. He smells like spice, too.

“So much for can’t dance!” You laugh.

“I said I don’t dance, bird. Nothin’ about can’t.” An arm loops around your waist, suddenly twisting to dip you low - holding your weight so easily. You fall into a giggling fit, face hot as you playfully push at his chest.

As the night goes on, things get fuzzier. Blurred. There’s one last shot with Johnny and Kyle and all you know is an overwhelming sense of joy.

A/N: Don’t love love this part but it’s cute and this is supposed to be my easy to write fic so I’m not stressing about it. Suuuuper excited for the next couple parts tho🤭

[moonstruckme]

not sure this really applies for the blueberry muffin prompt but...update on roomate!james and reader? 🥺 (AND CONGRATS ON 7k 🥳🥳)

It does haha! I knew blueberry muffin would be my downfall (but it's okay I signed up for it and ily regardless). Please accept this garbage fire of a drabble <3

cw: modern au, alcohol mention

roommate!James x shy!reader ♡ 683 words

You’re squished between Sirius and James, the two people here least likely to allow you space to breathe. James has got you half in his lap, his arm around your waist and one of your thighs over his, while Sirius’ shoulder pushes into yours, his legs cast over the arm of his couch so he can kick gently at Remus when the urge strikes him. 

“Her coworker hates me,” James says. 

“He does not.” You roll your eyes. This is a topic you’ve been over before. “Art likes you just fine.”

“Does too!” He pinches your waist. “It’s because he’s in love with you.” 

You fight the urge to hide your face in his side. “He is not.” 

James laughs. “He is, sweetheart. You just can’t see it.” 

“You would hardly know, would you?” Sirius agrees, but he agrees with James on everything. You’re fairly sure that if James said the moon was green, Sirius would swear the same until his dying breath. “You didn’t know our Jamesie liked you until he practically confessed.” 

“I still doubt it sometimes,” you mutter, earning you another teasing pinch from your boyfriend. 

“Hold on,” says Lily, “she’s the one who works with him.”

Remus nods. While Sirius always agrees with James, Remus always disagrees with the both of them. You suspect this is mostly because he enjoys getting them riled up. “Exactly. I think y/n has had plenty more time to figure out if he has feelings than you have, James.” 

“He used to walk her home after every shift,” James argues. 

“Because he’s nice,” you sigh. 

“Nice to you, you mean.”

“It’s very normal to walk girls home from late shifts.” 

Remus hums. “Have you considered, James, that maybe because you’ve never worked in the service industry, there are norms you don’t understand?” His tone is smug. Sirius kicks his foot at him lazily.

James’ eyebrows rise above the frames of his glasses. “Have you considered,” he waves his free hand in your direction, “look at her?” 

Your face heats something atrocious. Sirius tsks. “He’s got you there, darling.” 

“Hush,” you say to James, though you can’t manage to infuse your voice with any sternness. “You’re the only one that thinks that.” 

“Nope,” he replies, popping the p. “Actually, it’s me and Art and every other seeing person on the planet. Sorry, sweetheart.” 

You’re not sure if he’s apologizing sardonically or genuinely, for the pain his compliments are causing you. A big hand cups the side of your head, bringing you closer so he can kiss your hair. 

It doesn’t pacify you. “You’re awful,” you say, slipping out from between him and Sirius so his friend nearly falls sideways onto James’ lap. “I’m going to get some water, does anyone want anything?” 

Lily and Remus say no, Sirius asks for a cider, and James is noticeably silent. You can’t say you’re surprised when he comes into the kitchen behind you. 

He gives you a sheepish look. You don’t believe it even a little. “Have I scared you off?” 

You go to Sirius and Remus’ fridge, grabbing the cider for Sirius. “No.” 

“But I embarrassed you.” James wraps his arms around your middle, smushing his lips to your hairline. “M’sorry, lovely.” 

“Don’t,” you say, though you’re far from pulling out of his embrace. “It takes more than that to scare me off.” 

“Yeah?” You can hear the teasing slip into his voice, and that scares you more than it should. “Good. Because you’re gonna have to get used to it, you know. I don’t plan on toning down how lovely you are just because you might get shy on me.” 

You tilt your head back to see him. “You’re insufferable.” 

“So you’re always telling me.” James’ grin is huge. He drops a kiss on the bridge of your nose. “You’re lovely, and I’m insufferable. How’s that fair?” 

“Dunno.” You kiss his chin in return. Fill your cup with water and brush past him out the kitchen. “Suppose you’ll have to get use to it.” 

It’s impossible not to smile when his laughter sounds behind you. 

[mv1simp]

Into It ♥️ Part 2 of 3

Max Verstappen x Girlfriend!Reader

and she don’t really like it (but she needs me, yeah)

the one in which you’re newly dating your gorgeous boyfriend, max verstappen, after months of pining and flirting. he’s the perfect gentleman, so romantic and treats you just right! now how do you tell him that you’re desperate for mad max to come out and rail ur insides without sounding like a freak 😚

Content includes: 18+ MDNI, smut, dom/sub, size kink, Charles used as a plot device to make Max jealous soz, orgasm denial, classic kinky shit, 4k WC

PART ONE HERE ♥️ PART THREE HERE ♥️

That’s how you found yourself on a girls’ night out in Monaco’s new hottest club, downing three shots in a row. Woah, woah girl!! your best girlfriend exclaimed, what’s the occasion? You huffed and avoided eye contact, prompting her to lean in conspiratorially, trouble in paradise with your boy Maxie? This time you glare at her in response and she grins in satisfaction, knowing she's caught you.

A few more shots later and you were drunkenly rambling about your tales of sexual frustration to her, about all the attempts at seducing your boyfriend, all the unfulfilled fantasies. She laughs, so you’re saying you’re upset your boyfriend acts too sweet to you to be rough with you in the bedroom? You nodded glumly, squishing your face against the bar countertop. I’m the worst girlfriend ever. I don’t deserve an angel like max!

Your girlfriend rolled her eyes at your melodrama. Girl, no. We all need to get dicked down hard. You need to be straight up with him. Besides - she smirked - he’s the most chaotic driver on the grid. I’m sure he can provide everything you want and much, much more.

Squinting, you tried to make sense of her words through your drunken thoughts. Logically you knew she was right - you should just tell Max honestly what you desired so badly - but even imagining how he might react when he obviously considered you to be his sweet, innocent girlfriend made you feel too embarrassed, even now. More drinks, you declared promptly. Your girlfriend shrugged, handing you another shot. Cheers to that!

An hour later you found yourself on the dance floor, having the time of your life. Twisting and grinding the night away, initially with your friends but at some point you stumble across Charles and Lando, who had joined your group at the club. Giggling, you threw your arms right around Cha, who you had known from living in Monaco the last few years. Chaaa!!! It’s so good to see you!! You’ve had such a fantastic year in Ferrari, I’m so proud of you-

Charles chuckled good naturedly at your drunk ramblings, wrapping an arm around you to steady you. He made eye contact with Lando, gesturing to his phone, to which the other boy mouthed already on it - having texted Max to come pick up his normally very responsible, well behaved girlfriend who had hilariously gotten far too wasted. Charles guides you away to get you a drink - water, sorry mon cherrie - he sweetly apologises as he takes the beer can you had grabbed instead and replaced it with a clear bottle. You pouted, struggling to stand up straight, and leaned right into him, arms around his shoulders, letting him feel all of you. And he definitely could, given your choice of outfit tonight - a silky long sleeved minidress hugging your body perfectly, with a low cut sweetheart neckline giving the taller man a perfect view of your cleavage. Charles’ eyes widened in surprise - in all his years of knowing you, you had never acted like this before. He reached for your waist again to steady you as you start to lean to one side again.

Unfortunately, this was exactly the picture Max found you two in.

Before Charles could even put a finger on you, a strong arm wraps around your waist from behind, yanking you backwards against a firm chest. You stumbled, confused, and tipped your head up only to come face to face with your boyfriend. Except even in your drunk daze, you could tell your boyfriend looked absolutely furious. You vaguely hear him snarl something aggressively towards Cha - Keep your fucking greedy hands off her - To which the monegasque driver innocently raised his hands in defence, attempting to explain, but Max doesn’t give him a chance as he leans down and tosses you over his shoulder, making you yell out in surprise. Maxie, you gasped as he quickly navigated you out of the club towards his Aston Martin Valkyrie, his fast pace making you dizzy - Maxie, slow down, I didn’t say bye to Cha-

A hard smack on your ass cuts you off, making you squeal and eyes boggle at the unexpected rough treatment. Max had never, ever used his force on you like that. Oh, we’re way past the point of that, Princess. I’m taking you straight home, Max growls as he drops you into the passenger seat, jaw clenched as he clicked your seatbelt in. He tossed a bottle of water in your lap as he started the car and speeds off. You gulp it down greedily, desperately trying to sober up a bit and process where on earth this behaviour from your usually sweet boyfriend had come from.

By the time he parked in his garage, you had started to think a bit clearer and felt nervousness build up, realising you’ve started your first real fight as a couple. Maxie- You try again as you entered the elevator up his penthouse together, Maxie, I’m sorry, I got too drunk- But your boyfriend didn’t even meet your gaze, still staring ahead furiously as you stumbled after him through the front door. You called out again as he stalked off, reaching a hand out to grab his t-shirt and pleading for him to tell you why he was so mad, you had said you were sorry, you just had a bit too much to drink - and he whirled around, letting the full impact of his anger implode onto you.

Why am I so angry? Are you seriously fucking asking me that right now? Max spat, stalking towards you and making you back up against the kitchen wall, doe eyed. What do you think? What would you do if your girlfriend leaves in the middle of the night and you find her fucking dry humping your mate in the middle of a club for all of Monaco to see? Huh? Your eyes had gotten wider with each sentence Max had yelled at you, inching back further and further until you were trapped with the hard kitchen wall to your back, Max’s arms caging you against it as he glared down at you. Maxie, you say guiltily, taking a deep breath to focus on de-escalating the fight instead of the freakish butterflies you felt in your belly seeing his harsh intensity directly focused on you for once. I’m really sorry, I shouldn’t have done it and it genuinely didn’t mean, I only want you-

The tall blonde scoffs, rolling his eyes and making it clear he didn’t believe a word coming out of your mouth. Oh, don’t give me that bullshit now, Schat he sneered, his usual favourite nickname for you now said with a bitterly sarcastic tone, making you half excited at the cruel change in his attitude and half panicked because you had never expected he would get this angry at you. You’ve been acting weird for the past month, half the time I swear you’re trying on purpose to delete my sim racing data, and then leaving your laundry all over the apartment when you get mad at me for not putting a single pair of socks away, and now tonight with Charles? Why did you have to act so pathetic and put yourself all over him?

You take a sharp breath in as Max’s words hit you right in the heart. He’s still glaring down at you, arms caging you in and making it clear he demanded an answer from you. His words had shocked you - all your efforts, all the attempts at trying to turn him on had apparently gone completely unnoticed? And instead he just thought of you as pathetic? You couldn’t hold yourself back anymore, your deepest insecurities now coming out given your already oversensitive emotional state after getting so drunk tonight.

Why? WHY? you scream up at Max, unable to control the hot tears that fill your eyes in response to his words. Max flinches reflexively, not expecting you to become so upset, and you shove him away with your full strength. You barely manage to push him back a couple centimetres as he concedes, but that was all you needed to slip under his arms and away from his intense gaze, not wanting him to see the fresh tears that had started dripping down your cheeks now, the tequila in your system amplifying your emotions. Wiping them off, you spin back around and resume your yelling - Well maybe because I wanted to actually make you mad for once, Max! Maybe because I actually wanted you to treat me with the passion and intensity you treat everything else around you, and yes, maybe it was a stupid way to get your attention tonight, but I thought making you jealous would finally make you lose control and just fuck me hard for once!

Max’s startled look is almost priceless, his baby blue eyes going wide like a deer in headlights as the argument takes a complete 180 from where it had been earlier. But you don’t stop there -

So I’m sorry I made myself look like the pathetic girlfriend of the golden boy, Max Verstappen. I just didn’t know what to do! I tried to get dressed up for you in my nicest lingerie, or make you mad at me so that you had an excuse to punish me however you wanted. But apparently it just wasn’t enough because you never noticed and still treat me like I’m some little precious doll that might break, like I can’t handle seeing you when you’re mad or upset or aggressive. So I guess I am pathetic, so desperate to try so hard to seduce you because I just wanted you to be yourself when you obviously just don’t think I’m hot enough to make you desire me in that way -

Woah, woah woah - okay, this deprecating self talk had gone on way too long for his liking, Max thought, as he closed his mouth that had dropped open in surprise as you finally released the tension and secrets he could tell you had been building up. Schatje, he murmured, approaching you gently, all his earlier anger crumbling away as he wipes your tears.

His strong hands grasped your waist and easily lifted you onto the marble top counter behind you, the twinkling Monaco city lights streaming in through the glass panels behind you. You sniffle, still refusing to meet his eyes, so embarrassed that all your feelings had rapidly come out of you like that. Max lovingly tilted your chin up, forcing you to meet his gaze. For such a smart and accomplished woman, you can be so incredibly stupid sometimes He starts, quickly continuing when he sees the indignation on your face -

So stupid because I can’t believe you think there is any version of me that doesn’t think you’re the most fucking beautiful girl I’ve ever laid my eyes upon, the only woman who has me wrapped around her pretty little finger. You know I would give you the world, schat, all you have to do is ask me for what you want.

I know, you say, sighing miserably, I know you’ll give me anything I want, you treat me so well, Maxie, and I’ve been the one who’s been having all these dirty thoughts every time I see you shirtless or driving on the track.

Max chuckles, his eyes shining brightly and cheeks flushed from your confession about how crazy he makes you feel. You’ve been holding back on me, liefje he teases, gently rubbing his thumbs across your dusty pink cheeks. Tell me, what naughty ideas has my girl been hiding from me? What’s driving you so wild about seeing me drive?

Your cheeks darken as you struggle to come up with a half coherent response despite your weeks of fantasising. I - um, well, sometimes - sometimes, when a race is going bad and you’re getting really angry on the radio and racing so aggressively against the others, it just really, uh, turns me on? you mumble, eyes purposely looking at his toned chest to avoid eye contact. And it makes me think about what it would feel like to have all that power up against me instead, to help you relax by releasing all your energy out on me instead of holding it in…as you trail off you hesitantly look back up, certain that you had freaked your boyfriend out by your inner thoughts. Instead, you find Max’s ice blue eyes locked intently onto yours, swirling with that stormy darkness you had caught glimpses of before.

Schatje, Max says, his voice low as he steps closer into your space, your soft thighs parting to accomodate his large frame. Are you telling me you’ve been wondering if I can fuck you the way that I like to drive? Aggressive and completely in control? You feel your cheeks flush again at his direct question, and you nod in response to his question, squeaking out a nervous yes.

Max’s eyes darken, lips quirking into a smug smirk you had seen many times on post race interviews and podiums but rarely within your home. He jerks you forward with one arm, pressing your soft tits up against his own firm chest, your legs instinctively tightening around his hips as he stands directly in front of you. So, Schat, you like it when I’m getting angry at you, huh? It all makes so much sense now. The way that you’re always biting your lip and squeezing your thighs together everytime I’m arguing in the garage. You look so innocent, but you’re actually just a dirty little girl, huh? acting like the sweetest WAG on the grid - but you’re just a desperate cocktease, aren’t you?

You let out a breathless gasp at the new sense of superiority in Max’s words, a condescending smirk still on his lips. Your ego rises up hotly and you shake your head in defence, Nuh uh, Maxie, that’s not, I’m not-

He cuts you off by suddenly dropping his hands from your waist and instead curling them around your chubby soft thighs, forming a tight grip easily with his large fingers. Doesn’t matter what you say, baby. The proof is right here. He flips your minidress up, exposing the cute white lacey thong underneath, his ring finger easily hooking around thin material and pulling it to one side. There’s no hiding the sheer wetness coating your cute pink pussy, so much so that there’s strands of it connecting to the thong as Max pulled it back. Bingo, he chuckles darkly. You’re squealing at the gesture as your intimate parts go on full display for him, trying desperately to close your legs with your full strength but Max’s bruising grip on your thighs is unrelenting for once. He laughs at the sight, angling his long fingers forward to teasingly flick against the entrance to your core. Your needy little pussy is already dripping for me, huh schat? It got so wet seeing me get all angry and jealous, didn’t it? Did you get even wetter when I yelled at Charles for touching you? Or maybe it was when I had to smack that fat ass of yours to shut your whining up?

Your eyes go wide as you look up at him in shock, hearing filthy words you never thought you would hear from your sweet Maxie. Your head is starting to spin from his deep voice as he continues his teasing with a cocky look. Oh, liefje. I’m going to fuck you so hard tonight you won’t even be able to remember your own name. You’re going to tell me every single dirty fantasy you’ve had, and you’re not going to stop until I’m completely satisfied with you.

Before you can even reply, Max is lifting you up off the counter and into his arms, navigating you both easily to the large plush sofa facing his penthouse balcony and sitting down comfortably. He pulls you on top of him, bringing your still clothed core to rest directly on top of his muscled thighs. You find yourself face to face with his chest even in this position, having to tilt your head up to look at the much taller Dutchman. He grins smugly, the very picture of a Chesire cat as he looks back at you, large palm resting securely on your plump ass.

So, mein liefje? You going to tell me what you’ve been plotting up? Beg me to fill you up and treat you like the little slut you’ve secretly always been? he demands. You bristle at his arrogant tone, not replying to him after you had already made so many embarrassing confessions. But you can’t deny the wetness that keeps dripping from your core, making a mess all over his pants. Your boyfriend notices your stubborn efforts to keep yourself composed and smirks. That’s how you want to play it, love? He croons at you. That’s ok. I can play this game with you. All. Night. Long. It’s my turn to tease you after all the fun you’ve had prancing around in your tiny slutty outfits, rubbing your ass up on me in the middle of the night and driving me crazy having to hold myself back since you couldn’t be a good girl and just beg for it.

And with that he tenses his thighs up into you, bouncing his leg, making you moan suddenly from the blissful stimulation. He speeds up his pace and you find yourself grinding down onto him, eyes fluttering shut as the feeling your pleasure start to build up -

And come crashing down when Max abruptly stills, startling you into grabbing onto his biceps to steady yourself as you almost topple over. Your - loving, adorable, currently irritiating - boyfriend flashes a cheeky smile at you. Max, you whine, but he continues to look at you expectantly and you huff, caving in and gathering the confidence you had left over from your earlier shots.

Your eyes trail down to his chest, one very common thought of yours immediately springing to mind. I guess I really like how you’re so much bigger than me, you murmur, blush starting to return to your cheeks. You’re so big and sooo strong, always lifting the heaviest things easily and I think a lot about how good it would feel to have your big hands on me, holding me down, moving me in anyway that you wanted for your own pleasure. Your hand moves slowly down his front as you speak, and Max rewards your honesty by smoothly removing his shirt, his muscular chest now on display for you. You continue your exploration and trace across his wide shoulders, feeling your heart speed up at the stark difference in your sizes. And, I think about how sexy you sound when you get angry, cause your Dutch accent slips through and makes it even hotter, and I wondered how you would sound if you gave me orders and told me exactly how you wanted me to please you.

Max’s breathing is getting deeper, revealing that your boyfriend is not as unaffected by your words as he is acting. You bite your thick lips as Max’s hands find their way to your ass again, now simultaneously pushing you down onto his leg while pushing his thigh up at the same time. Yeah, schatje? Like this? You want me to show you just how much stronger I am than you, just how hard I’ve had to hold back in case I hurt you?

His fingers unzip the back of your satin dress, allowing it to easily slide off your shoulders, exposing your perfect tits for him while his other hand navigates between your thigh, easily ripping your thong off on one side and pulling it up your smooth leg to let it dangle on your ankle. His hands set the pace as he easily bounces you up and down on his large thighs, making you moan sweetly in pleasure, then squeal as his mouth latches onto your pretty brown nipple that he had been hungrily eyeing. He licks and kisses aggressively at your boobs, leaving a smattering of hickeys as he went and you can’t control how loud your moans get anymore. Ohhh, Maxie, that feels so good~

He bites down on a nipple, then leaves a gentle lick on the bruise he left, and you feel a lightning bolt shoot straight to your pussy at the feeling 💕 He smirks in satisfaction, noticing the blissful expression on your face. Fuck, you like it rough, don’t you baby? Love when I use your little body however I want? You whine in agreement, all earlier inhibitions completely out the window as you’re lost in the pleasure Max makes you feel. That’s all he needs to escalate this again. His hands grab onto your satin dress, this time easily ripping it into two and tossing it onto the floor. You squeal, eyes wide at his casual display of strength as his palms find their way to your exposed jiggling ass, laying a powerful smack on them as you continue to hump his thigh. Oh! Ohhh, Maxie, mhhmm, feels so good!

Max chuckles at your endearing desperation, delivering slap after slap to your quickly reddening asscheeks as you bounce on him. He delivers another slap, this time leaving his hand there to possessives squeeze the flesh while his other hand wraps around your throat to pulls your lips forward onto his. You moan into the sloppy kiss, so unbelievably turned on at this domineering side of Max. His fingers glide across your ass, teasing your dripping heat from behind and you feel your orgasm quickly approaching. You greedily bury your hands in his soft hair as his tongue swipes across yours, when Max suddenly stands up, pushing you off him and onto your knees on the fluffy carpet. You blink up at him, dazed at the change in position, only to find a wicked smirk on his face as he steps out of his pants, letting his thick and very hard erection swing out, his tip landing just in front of your plush lips.

You feel your face flush, because truly you had not gone down on your boyfriend very much at all. He would often be the one to worship you, lounging for an easy three quarters of an hour in between your legs, his tongue lapping at your wet heat. Your boyfriends’ thoughts mirrored yours exactly, and he leaned down, his hand cupping your chin and forcing a thumb into your mouth. You wanted me to use you, isn’t that right? To be a little fucktoy for me, and let all of my stress out at? Go on, schatje, you know what to do.

You immediately began suckling at his thumb, eyes wide, mascara smudged sexily, and looking up at him sooo obediently that he feels himself get even harder. Fuck yeah, that’s a good girl. He swiped his thumb across your tongue before hooking it around one corner of your lips, stretching it uncomfortably wide to the side. Open that pretty mouth of yours, sweetheart. It’s time to teach you how to put it to good use.

You could tell Max was just getting started from the pleased smirk on his face as he watched you get more and more desperate to have him. Fuck, you were in for a long night.

—————————————————————————

A/N: Part 3 is out! Tysm to all of you for the unexpected response!! So glad so many of you liked it, glad I can feed all you thirsty souls hehe 🤭 Comment to let me know what you think cause it’s been a while since I’ve done this! Lmk if you have any ideas/prompts for our manz u want me to write 🫶

[theemporium]

YAYYYYY I FOUND IT FINALLY

hi love hope ur doing well

can i request 💛and no.16 with lando?

thank u sm i love ur work🤍🤍

thank you for requesting!🫶🏽

16. massaging them

.

“Oh fuck, that’s the spot.”

You couldn’t help but snort, the noise joyful and bashful. “Shut up, I have neighbours!”

“Not my fault you’ve got hands crafted by the gods themselves,” Lando retorted, his words slightly muffled by the way he buried his face in one of your pillows. “It feels good. I might have to replace Jon with you.” 

“I’ll pass,” you laughed, shaking your head in amusement even if he couldn’t see. “You seem like a needy client.” 

He let out a high-pitched noise of complaint. “I’m a fucking delight, I’ll have you know.” 

“Yeah, that’s exactly why you barged into my apartment demanding a massage,” you replied, sarcasm dripping from your words. 

It was only partially an exaggeration to the truth. 

With summer break in full swing, it meant that Lando finally had time to relax and step away from the crazy, intense world that is Formula One. It meant he had time to spend with his family and friends that he didn’t usually get during the season, even when they came to race weekends. It meant he could pretend to feel a little normal, even if his life was far from it.

Except for the fact he still had to train like a Formula One driver. 

Which he was insistent he could do without the help of Jon. He insisted the man deserved a break of his own, to enjoy his vacation before they had to return to Woking later in the month. He insisted he would be able to follow his routine without the man watching over him. 

And he could do it. He just forgot the aftermath of it all, which was how he came storming into your apartment after his latest workout, whining and complaining about how stiff and sore he felt. And somewhere in his complaining, you agreed to do Jon’s job for him. 

“People don’t complain this much about helping their friends,” Lando commented, turning his head to the side so his cheek was squished against your pillow and his words were no longer muffled.

“People also don’t sound like they are filming a bad porno when they are getting a massage,” you shot back, finding some pleasure in the way Lando’s cheeks burned pink at your words. 

“Please,” he huffed out, clearing his throat in bed. He tried to stay light-hearted, playful, jokey. He tried to focus on the banter, rather than the way your hands felt across his skin. “This isn’t even close to what I sound like in bed.” 

“I know.” 

“I sound so—” He paused, his brows furrowing as he processed your response before snapping his head back to look at you. “What do you mean, you know?” 

“Carlos was your teammate,” you shrugged, trying to bite back your smile. “And he was always in the room next to you in hotels. He’s heard some stuff.” 

“I—” Lando tried to speak but words failed him. Memories flashed through his mind, nights he had spent in his hotel room alone. Nights where his hand was wrapped around himself with you on his mind and your name on his lips and—

“I’m kidding!” You laughed, unaware of his internal dilemma as you pushed him back down on the bed, your hands smoothing along the backs of his shoulders. “Carlos didn’t hear shit. I’m just winding you up.” 

“Pfft, yeah, I knew that,” Lando laughed nervously, his heart hammering in his chest despite your reassurance. “Carlos wishes he knew what I sounded like in bed.” 

“More like you wished you knew what he sounded like,” you snorted. “Your crush on Carlos wasn’t subtle.” 

“Yeah,” he murmured, burying his face into your pillow once again. “My crush on Carlos. Totally. That was it.”

.

[casuallyanidiot]

Oh dear. Poor reader :(. They must be crying and whimpering, all scared in that dark but spacious boot of his car. It's not right, their screams are perfectly muffled by the gag he so perfectly and effectively bound them up in.

Can you blame him though? It's painfully infuriating to see them struggle in shitty flats with worse room mates. He made sure they can't work anywhere else so they definitely can't afford anything better. Yan (ex) coworker knows they'd be happiest and safest locked inside his lovely manor at the edge of some remote forest with no where to run! ☺️

He's got everything prepared. A pretty room, locked up for them to acclimatise so that they don't hurt themselves or him. They don't even have to worry about the things they love, he's already got everything shipped out there.

What's wrong? He's got everything they could possibly need. Don't piss him off now. He's seen them be useless at everything ever. Just be the pretty doll they know they can be :)

Yandere coworker, if you can even call him that anymore, is nicer to you once you're chained in his basement than he's ever been before.

It's honestly a guilty pleasure of his, but he can't help but get hard when he sees you all teary and curled up on the plush bed he's given you. Yandere coworker smiles despite your fear. He loves this. Finally after all this time, you're the weak little thing he knew you always were.

"Don't cry baby," He coos. "I'm gonna take good care of you," He murmurs with an almost giddy smile. He grabs your ankle and tugs you towards him. You try and claw away from him, but of course you can't even do that. God, you're helpless without him.

Yandere Coworker wrangles you onto his lap and squishes your face in his hand. "Be nice," He warns despite the soft grin on his face. He forced you into a cute little outfit earlier. He had always imagined that you would look far better in short, frilly skirts and soft pastel sweaters than you would office wear. He's glad to know that he, as usual, was right.

"Be nice," He repeats. "You're acting like the world is ending, baby." His voice is full of playful affection. He presses open mouthed kisses to the back of your neck and rolls his clothes hips against yours. You whimper, and he can't help but chuckle. Even after all of this, you still don't get how good you have it. The entire room is filled with designer furniture, all tasteful and cute like you. There's nothing on your body that's worth less than a hundred dollars, and he feeds you (even if by force) only the best meals.

"You're just so dumb, sweetie," Yandere coworker murmurs as he nibbles on your earlobe and forces your thighs apart. He hears you squeak and feels you shake against him. He shushes you quietly. "Acting like you can do anything for yourself... Fuck, you're so useless. You can't even get good sleep if I don't make you, huh?"

You flinch. You try to argue, but he delivers another warning squeeze to your cheeks. He hums and draws circles up your plush thighs with his thumb. "That's why you need me, baby," He practically moans out his words. You're terrified, and even though he knows that he should be trying to get you to accept all of this, he just loves how you tense up in his arms.

"But I know, baby," His voice drips with false sympathy like honey on his tongue. You "I know exactly what you're good for."

Yandere Coworker knows that it's hard for something so simple and sweet like you to understand that this is a good thing. Maybe once you're face down, ass up and stuffed full of his cock, you'll stop pretending like you can even do that.

[henrycangelbaby]

In which: This is not going well. He remembers what Y/N said—that he enjoyed scratches behind his ears, although he's pretty sure she had referred to them as "scratchies.”

or

Logan has to learn to get along with the newest family member.

Logan isn’t always resistant to change; in fact, he would do about anything for his lover, for his Y/N. He spends most of his nights watching the garbage TV of the modern family that she loves, and he even let her get pink tiles in the bathroom when they moved in together, but this might be too far.

He knows something’s up as soon as he walks through the door. Y/N usually comes running to greet him with a sweet kiss, or if not, he can usually hear her stomping around upstairs doing God knows what. But today, he doesn't hear anything immediately when he opens the door, and Y/N certainly isn't there to greet him.

As he steps further into the house, he tries to pick up on any sounds. Is that water running? It's a little early for Lovie to be having her nighttime shower, but perhaps a change in routine was called for. As he approached the sound, he realized that it wasn’t the shower; in fact, it was the sink in the bathroom. He could see her back facing him as she hunched over the sink, muttering to herself.

“Y/N?”

She quickly jumped at the unexpected sound, splashing water before turning around.

“Hey, love.”

He quirked an eyebrow. She sounded rather guilty.

“Is everything okay, baby?” he asked, peering over her shoulder to try and get a glimpse of what she was doing.

“Yeah, everything—”

He cut her off before she could finish. “Is that a cat?”

In the sink that he was standing in front of, he swore for just a second that he could see a sopping wet cat shivering in the middle of it. She finally relented quickly, turning around to pick up the tiny thing and pulling it tight into her chest, causing her shirt to quickly be soaked with soap and water.

“Actually, no, Lo, it’s a kitten,” she continued quickly, “and his name is Squish, thank you.”

“Baby, why the fuck do you have a kitten?”

He could be mad; she looked so cute standing there holding the tiny thing close to her, just like a protective mother.

“I found him, and he was all alone. He looked so sad; I couldn't just leave him there, Lo.”

Okay, he definitely wasn’t mad; how could he be when his baby had been doing something so sweet and loving? He hummed.

“So his name is Squish?”

Y/N lit up instantly. “Yes! Isn’t he the cutest?”

He nodded vaguely along, checking out the kitten closely. It was pretty cute, with white and red fur and big round eyes that peered up at him longingly. He was a little hesitant to reach out and pet ‘Squish’ just yet, but perhaps admitting his cuteness was the first step to that. He shook his head gently when Y/N offered for him to hold the kitten; that was definitely a while in the future.

The start of their relationship was rocky; Squish truly was very cute and made his baby very happy, but the kitten hadn't exactly taken a keen liking to Logan. Perhaps this cat was super smart or something, but he felt like the cat could tell something was up, could tell that he wasn't entirely normal. And listen, it wasn't entirely unjust; he had caught Logan whipping his claws out once completely on accident, but he had felt so guilty for scaring the little guy that he had fed him for a week just to win his trust back.

But it wasn’t just that; whenever Y/N wasn't around, Squish was, well, rather cold towards him. Perhaps it was rather silly of him to read into the emotions and feelings of an actual cat, but he felt that he should be closer to the thing. They did have quite a bit in common, more than he was willing to admit, much to his dismay. But no matter their common ability to ruin furniture, he couldn't quite understand the thing. It wouldn't matter if it was anything else, but this little kitty meant so much to his lover that he felt rather guilty about their mutual distaste for each other.

It goes on like this for a little while; they tiptoe and walk on four legs around each other for a little while, Logan embarrassingly unsure how to handle the little cat except for feeding it every day in hopes of it taking more of a liking to him. Things do not change for weeks.

Y/N has to go out of town for a few nights; she promises to call him every night (after teaching him his way around FaceTime) and makes sure he has Squish’s routine down pat. She leaves early in the morning, giving him a quick kiss on the lips and a somewhat crushing hug before she does the same for their cat and leaves out the door.

And suddenly they are alone together. He feels like a deadbeat father, unsure how to handle hanging out with his kid. Feeding it and then leaving it to its own devices. However, he finds himself rather lonely; of course, he finds things to do. He sees some friends, fixes the broken shelf in the bedroom, and considers what color he should consider painting the bathroom. He finds himself a little lonely; he is the only human in the house, and the only other creature seems to be avoiding him if it's not dinner time.

On day three of Y/N's absence (not that he's counting), he sits alone on the couch. He has eaten a rather pathetic dinner and now sits watching an episode of Modern Family on basically zero volume. The little guy comes trotting into the room. Despite the cat being about the same size as his hand, he can hear its little paws clicking on the ground, or perhaps he is more in tune with his supersense than he thinks.

Squish jumps up, settling onto the opposite end of the couch to Logan. He reaches out to pat Squish, but he gets quickly rejected as the cat shakes off his pat before turning around. This is not going well. He remembers what Y/N said—that he enjoyed scratches behind his ears, although he's pretty sure she had referred to them as "scratchies.”

Fuck it, it was time for him to give Squish some scratchies. He reached out and carefully patted the cat behind the ears. The little guy quickly leaned his head into Logan's hands, rubbing against them with what he could swear was a small smile. Squish moved closer to him, placing his furry head on Logan's thigh. This was nice.

He had opened the floodgates, and now there seemed to be no stopping them. Squish went everywhere that he went, always following Logan around, running around at his feet. He had also taken to sleeping in the bed with Logan. Logan was rather obsessed with having the little thing sleeping on his bicep or chest. Squish had taken residence on his thighs during their now shared TV time and had taken to meowing outside the bathroom when he spent too long in the shower thinking about his Y/N (Squish had ruined his pace at least once with the meowing, but Logan had quickly forgiven him, scared that he had traumatized the kitten again).

In all his excitement, he hadn't told Y/N about this new development in his relationship with her baby. Of course, he had been texting her more often than not—all they had been saying was “I miss you” and “I love you more,” and their phone calls had often consisted of too much talking.

After what seemed to be a lifetime, Y/N came home. She had texted him that morning letting him know her estimated arrival time, but he had jumped to his feet when he had heard her car pull up in the driveway, quickly swooping up Squish in his left arm before rushing to pull the door open. He grinned at her.

“Hey, baby.”

“Hey, Lo,” she replied before he pulled her into his arms, hugging her close to his chest. He kissed her on the head.

“I missed you."

"I missed you too, love.”

He shut the door behind her as she turned to face him and gasped in surprise.

“My baby!” she somewhat squealed in excitement, and she reached for the kitten, pulling him into her chest and kissing him multiple times on the head.

“I see you are getting along well,” she grinned at Logan. He felt his cheeks heat up.

“Yeah, we've been hanging out,” he shrugged.

She reached up for his collar and pushed their lips together. He smiled into the kiss. God, he loved his Y/N (and their Squish).

Squish’s clinginess towards him tampered down once his mommy was home. The kitten still sleeps in the bed with them and often rests himself on Logan's thigh, but he has stopped following Logan around wherever he goes. Y/N has definitely noticed their newly formed bond; she often catches them snuggled together when she gets up to pee in the middle of the night and has to stop herself from cooing every time Logan picks him up, dwarfing the little guy in his big hands.

Late one night, Y/N is in the shower, and Logan finds himself alone with the cat. He picks up Squish, pulling him next to his face and kissing the small guy.

“My baby,” he mutters. “My baby, tiny baby,” he utters quietly, gently kissing the kitten on the head.

God, he was down bad.

[seungkw1]

stress relief — yjh

♡ pairing: yoon jeonghan x afab!reader ♡ theme: fluff, smut (18+ mdni), established relationship ♡ wc: 1.7k ♡ warnings: oral (m. & f. receiving), fingering (f. receiving), brief wrist pinning (f. receiving), slight degradation kink, petnames (m. & f. receiving - babe, baby, love, etc.) ♡ a/n: requested by my bestie <3

“Surprise!”

Jeonghan stops halfway through the doorway, hand lingering on the knob - his tired eyes trying to process what he is currently seeing. 

His schedule has been nonstop lately, and even though he does a good job at hiding it you’ve noticed how worn out he’s been every time he gets home, usually at a very late hour. 

So - you decide to try and cheer him up. 

You cooked up a big pot of jjajangmyeon, careful to follow the recipe exactly as you are not always the best cook - but you tasted it and it was surprisingly delicious. You turned off the overheads, instead opting for low-lit lamps and lighting various candles around the condo; you also put on some relaxing classical music, playing at a low volume. The vibe is relaxing, and a bit romantic - not either one of yours’ usual style, but you know it’s what he needs. 

Finally processing his surroundings, he looks at you - his big brown eyes turning even wider. You also happened to be wearing his favorite top of yours - the one that hugs you nicely, that he always compliments you on (and very much likes to take off of you). 

You take his bag from him and set it on the ground, helping him out of his coat. You turn him around and immediately grab him by the waist, pulling him in and planting a big kiss on his lips. You pull back, a puzzled expression still on his face. 

“What’s all this for?”, he asks, and then a concerned look colors his face. “Shit, did I forget an anniversary or something??”

You shake your head. “No dummy, it’s just for you! Figured you deserved a relaxing night in for once, you’ve been so stressed lately.”

You squeeze his torso and bury your head into him - he lets out a sigh and you feel his body relax into you. 

“Yeah, I definitely have been.” 

He kisses you on the forehead. “Thanks babe.”

You grab his hands and pull him toward the dinner table. “Come on, don’t want the food to get cold!”

—-

You jump under the covers, wrapping your arms around Jeonghan and squishing yourself against him as tight as possible. After dinner and then curling up on the couch together to watch his favorite movie, his tension seems greatly diminished. But, you’re not quite done with him yet. 

Your legs and arms now wrapped around him like a koala clinging to a tree, you start kissing him on the cheek over and over again. 

“You’re ridiculous,” he says as he rolls his eyes at you, but the smile on his face tells you he’s thoroughly enjoying being showered with affection. 

“Just making sure you know how much I love you,” you state matter-of-factly, nuzzling your face into his neck and kissing him there too. 

He lets out an involuntary giggle. “Hey, that tickles!”

You softly turn his face toward yours, your nose pressed against his so you can stare eye-to-eye with him. 

“Really, though - I appreciate you so much. I don’t tell you nearly enough.”

His face begins to turn pink. “You’re being far too nice to me, I haven’t even been around all that much because of schedule and-“

You smush his lips with your hand, cutting him off mid-sentence. “Hush. Don’t be so hard on yourself, you have nothing to apologize for.”

“I just-“

You kiss him to shut him up. It’s been a hot minute since you two have had any quality time together, nevermind anything alone and intimate. You savor the softness of his lips, lightly stroking his hair as you kiss him slowly, your nose pressed gently against his. You always love the way he holds you tightly when kissing you, squeezing your body into his as he rubs your back. Before long, though, your soft and sweet kisses turn into full-blown making out - both of you grasping at each other needily, neither one of you wanting to spend one millimeter apart. 

Your hand makes its way down his torso - resting on his chest, then his stomach, then to the band of his underwear. You pause, fiddling with the hem for a few moments (you can’t help but tease him a little bit). He breaks away from your lips, a slight smirk on his face he places his hand on yours, continuing it further downward onto the bulge forming underneath the fabric. He lets out a low hum as you begin to caress him, the semi-hard bulge almost instantly turning into a full-blown erection. 

“My baby’s been so tense lately,” you coo at him. You pull his underwear down, his cock springing up onto his stomach. Leaning into his ear, you whisper, “But luckily I know a great way to relieve stress.”

He moans as you begin to stroke his length. 

“Does that feel good, love?”

“Mmm yeah, feels amazing…” he mutters, his usual soft, mellow voice turned low and husky. 

His cock begins to glisten with precum as you continue stroking - you feel your pussy becoming wetter by the second as well, but your focus right now is on Jeonghan. 

You move down, positioning yourself between his legs, taking his cock in your hand as you place the tip in your mouth. You swirl your tongue over the head, causing him to groan as he lazily places his hand on top of your head. You take his length in your mouth, swallowing all of it. 

“Ohmygoddd,” he mumbles. “It’s been too long, baby.”

You slide his cock out of your mouth, gazing up at him as you lick up and down his entire length a few times, stopping only to take his balls in your mouth as you stroke him with one hand. You resume sucking his cock as the hand resting on your head begins to tighten its grip - that and the soft moans coming out of him tell you he’s close already. 

His tip hits you in your throat nicely, the choking sensation turning you on even more. You sneak your hand down to your cunt, moaning as you feel its wetness and gently begin touching your clit. Jeonghan’s moans have quickly become much louder - you know he’s about cum. A few more good pumps and you feel his cock begin to twitch, the thick ropes of his release hitting the back of your throat. He holds your head down as he finishes - you continue sucking on him to ensure his pleasure to the fullest. His body relaxes as he comes down; you slowly pull your mouth off his cock, making sure you get every single last drop of his cum. He lifts his head up slightly, looking at you through heavy eyelids - you swallow, then open your mouth, sticking your tongue out, to show him its vacancy. His head plops back down onto the pillow, a contented smile on his face - you haven’t seen him this relaxed in weeks. Your mission accomplished, you crawl back up the bed to cuddle up beside him again, but as you do he abruptly rolls you over, laying on top of you as he pins your arms down to the bed by your wrists. You must look surprised, because he grins at you - giving you that sly look of his that means he’s about to have a little fun with you. 

“Don’t think I didn’t see you touching yourself just now, love. What makes you think you get to do my job for me?”

Before you can protest he has one hand at your cunt, swirling your juices around delicately with one finger. You let out a soft whimper, then suddenly a bigger one as his fingertip ever so lightly brushes against your clit, sending a jolt up your spine. 

“Look how wet you are - choking on my cock turn you on that much, did it?”

You nod, crying out as he slips his finger inside your pussy. He knows how to make you feel incredible with the lightest of touches - but you need more. You roll your hips, your clit softly bumping against his palm, but this just makes him withdraw his finger. You whine as your cunt is far too empty now;  he tuts at you as he cups your breast, his thumb grazing over your hardened nipple.

“So needy - isn’t that right?”

You nod at him again, but you whine as he pinches your nipple in response. 

“I’m gonna need more than that if you want me to make you cum, darling.” His lips hover over yours, his voice gravelly. 

“You know what I like. I want you to beg for it.”

“Please, Jeonghan.”

He drags his fingertips lightly over your skin, his hand heading back down where you want it.

“Please what, my love?”

“I wanna cum - please.”

You moan as the pads of his fingers begin to circle your clit. He kisses you, then scoots down - your cunt now right before his face. He kisses your clit, then inserts two of his fingers - you whimper as he begins to fuck you, his long fingers curling perfectly to hit your g-spot. He teases you, looking like he’s about to put his mouth on you but then just blowing onto your clit gently. 

“Jeonghan please.”

He smirks at you before finally licking your clit, a massive pang firing through your lower abdomen. He swirls his tongue around before taking it in his mouth, sucking intensely. You cry out, feeling your orgasm approaching already. Jeonghan definitely notices; normally, he’d continue teasing you here, taking you nearly to the edge before pausing again and again - but this time he gives in, continuing to fuck you as his mouth refuses to leave your cunt. His free hand presses down on your stomach, and you feel your body tense up, your legs starting to quiver. Before you can even say a word, you’re cumming - your body shaking as shockwaves pulsate throughout, the sensation overwhelming. 

As you come down, you realize how relaxed you are now too, more than you’ve felt in weeks. Seeing Jeonghan so stressed lately must have been subconsciously stressing you out as well. You giggle as he kisses your pussy a few more times before crawling back up to your side, immediately wrapping his arms around you as he draws you into his warm body. 

“Thank you,” he says sleepily. “I really needed that.”

“I did too,” you reply, your head tucked into his neck. 

You lay there in silence, your breathing synchronized, Jeonghan caressing your back slowly, and slower still as you both drift off to sleep - blissful, relieved, and most importantly: together. 

[end]

[thewintersoldierdisaster]

a/n: this fic really only happened bc @youunravelme sent the pic of mat in the brown suit and said he looks like he could be carrying a diaper bag 😂 and then my mat and squeaks-loving heart ran with that! i’ve been telling their story in bits and pieces and out of order, but this story has more mention of squeaks’ mental state post-partum

word count: 4.2k

tw: mentions of post-partum anxiety, mentions of being on anti-anxiety medication, body image issues,

summary: being a bridesmaid in a wedding out east is the perfect reason for a little family and friends getaway, but you can’t completely let go of your anxieties

You should be having fun, getting ready with the girls and having your hair and makeup done, but your chest feels tight and you’re finding it hard to breathe.

Maybe air. You need air.

Rubbing at your sternum with one hand curled into a fist, you wander over to the French doors of the bridal suite, pushing them open and sticking your head out onto the balcony. The slight breeze off of Sag Harbor Bay is helping, the salty air cool and taking an edge off the mid-July heat.

A cool hand lands on your shoulder and you jump, turning slightly to see Kristy’s concerned face. “Are you okay?” She asks, a furrow between her eyebrows.

“I…yes? No?” You falter, fist still pressed against your chest. You recognize the anxiety symptoms, familiar as they are, but you’re not sure what triggered it. You’d been laughing just a few minutes ago, all the bridesmaids getting the final touches before heading out to line up for the ceremony.

“How about some water?” Kristy’s already uncapping a water bottle and handing it to you as she speaks, a mom multitasking.

You’re sipping at the water, your head spinning a little bit, when there’s a knock on the door to the suite. You can’t see who’s at the door, but you do hear Syd call your name, laughing, “we have an uninvited husband and baby here.”

“Oh!” You don’t have to see Mat and Talia for the knot in your chest to ease and for your breathing to get easier. They’re exactly who you needed and you don’t waste any time in hurrying as fast as your heeled feet will take you towards the door to the suite.

Mat’s hovering at the door, looking handsome and polished in his suit, a far cry from the disheveled, bed-headed mess you’d left behind at the Martins’ Hamptons home this morning. He’s got Talia in his arms, her back against his chest so she can see everything that’s going on. Syd’s squishing her little cheeks, making your fifteen-month-old giggle wildly and wriggle in Mat’s arms. The skirt of her summery floral dress is bunched up under Mat’s forearm, exposing chunky toddler legs.

“Hey!” Mat looks up and grins at you, the delighted expression on his face flickering when he sees whatever expression is on yours.

“Mama!” Talia shrieks and lunges for you, Mat’s arms tightening reflexively around the wiggly toddler.

Syd laughs and gives her a noisy kiss on the cheek. “Aunt Syd doesn’t hold a candle to Mom, I guess,” she shrugs and you offer her a faint smile.

“She’ll change her mind in like twenty minutes,” you joke, reaching out for her and stepping into Mat’s personal space. “Hi, Bug. Having a good morning with Daddy? I’ve missed you.” There’s a wobble to your voice and Mat doesn’t miss it.

“Hey,” he ducks his head closer to yours, his cheek brushing against the side of Talia’s head, “what’s going on? Are you okay?”

It’s the exact same question Kristy asked a few minutes ago, but when Mat asks it, you can’t help the tears that well up in your lash line or the hiccuping sob that escapes your lips even as you try to press them together.

Mat’s face immediately falls and he quickly kisses the side of Talia’s head, murmuring to her, “you’re gonna hang with Aunt Syd for a minute, okay, Bug?”

“No!” You nearly yelp, holding Talia’s fingers tighter. You don’t want her out of your sight. “No,” you repeat, quieter. “Just…just let me hang out with her for a minute.”

Talia chants her few words, mamas and dadas falling happily from her smiling mouth, her hands tucked in yours. You can feel the anxiety seep from your body, your shoulders lowering from your ears.

Mat nods and he secures Talia against his chest with one arm so he can cup your cheek with the other hand. His thumb brushes softly against your cheekbone and you lean into his touch, barely concerned about the layer of makeup coating your skin. “You were okay this morning,” he says, a statement that sounds more like a question.

“Mhm,” you hum a reply, smiling widely at Talia and brushing her dark curls off her face. She scrunches up her face and squeals when you tickle her cheeks. “I…I was okay until a few minutes ago, honestly. I don’t know, Mat.” You lift one shoulder in a shrug, knowing that your anxiety is unpredictable lately, less constant than in the months following Talia’s birth, but no less severe when the attacks hit.

Talia reaches for the chain of your necklace, tangling her little fingers in the fine metal, and you finally take her from Mat’s arms, only slightly concerned about wrinkling the chiffon of your lavender bridesmaid dress. She curls up against your chest, her head fitting perfectly under your chin, and you have to swallow back another wave of emotion.

He leans slightly against the doorframe and studies your face. After a beat, he says, “do you think you’re tapering off the Lexapro too fast?”

It’s been three months since you started tapering off, guided by your doctor’s advice, and it’s been hard. Easier now that it’s summertime and Mat’s around every day.

You shrug, shake your head. “I don’t think so, no? I took it this morning anyway,” you sigh, pressing your cheek against the top of Talia’s head. She’s wiggling in your arms, fighting to get loose and run around. “I’ve never been away from her for this long.”

“It’s only been eight hours,” Mat raises an eyebrow. His hand is on your hip now, stroking gently, and you try not to think about the layers of Spanx under your dress, the way your hips have spread since Talia’s birth, the stubborn ten pounds that won’t go away. You’re back in your pre-pregnancy size, technically, but you just don’t feel right in your skin yet and the bridesmaid dress is only serving to emphasize just how off you feel. The extra padding at your hips and chest feels strange to you, even though Mat’s proven time and time again that he can’t keep his hands off of you, no matter your size.

“Yeah,” you agree. “But she’s always with me, all day.”

Mat sighs your name. There’s a little defensiveness in the slope of his shoulders now. “I have her though,” he says. “I can handle her alone.”

“I know,” the words spill out, “I know you do! You’re the best dad, Mat. I just…feel like…like? It’s not that I didn’t think you were okay, I missed her. It’s scary, not to have her with me.” The hiccuping sob is back, shaking your voice, and you have to hoist Talia higher up on your hip. She’s babbling to herself, wiggling around, and you know you should let her toddle around to get some of her energy out before the ceremony, but you can’t seem to let her go.

You bite down hard on the inside of your cheek, trying not to think of the days she was in the NICU, when Mat was gone. You thought you were over that hump, worked through the trauma with your therapist and with Mat, but for whatever reason, today is really hard.

“Hey,” Mat reaches up and brushes at your cheek, wiping a tear away, “I know. Squeaks, I know. But she’s here and she’s okay and you’re not a bad mom.”

“Maybe I wasn’t ready for this,” you huff, embarrassment starting to settle in your stomach. You’re being dramatic. You’d said yes to being a bridesmaid before you even knew you were pregnant with Talia and even after her birth, since Syd and Kristy were also bridesmaids, you’d figured you would be okay surrounded by your friends.

Mat leans in to kiss the corner of your mouth, mindful of your lipstick. “You’re fine. Just a bad brain moment,” he mumbles, using your therapist’s phrase for your anxiety. “T and I are going to be cool during the ceremony and then the three of us will party it up with everyone else, okay?”

“Okay,” you nod, squeezing Talia one more time - getting an outraged squawk from her in return - before passing her back to Mat. They give you matching scrunch-faced smiles and you return a watery smile.

“Say bye to Mommy,” Mat jiggles Talia a bit and she giggles, waving and chanting a ‘bye bye, Mama’ in her sweet little voice.

“Bye bye, baby,” you wave back, your smile more natural now.

Mat leans in for one more quick kiss, Talia shrieking a giggle as she swoops forward in his arms. “You look beautiful,” he whispers against your cheek. “Lucky me, I get to go home with the hottest bridesmaid.”

Normally you’d roll your eyes at his flirting, but today you really needed the compliment. Your stomach warms and you smile gratefully at him.

He and Talia wave at you and she blows kisses, making you laugh as they head down the hallway and off to the outside patio where the ceremony will take place.

You’re feeling better after seeing them and when Syd and Kristy drag you back into the festivities and photographs, it’s fun again.

Mat’s sitting with Casey, Matt, and the kids towards the back of the crowd - daddy dare care while the moms are busy in the bridal party. You catch sight of Mat’s dark head immediately and your heartbeat kicks a little when you spot Talia’s matching dark hair over his shoulder. She’s standing on his thighs, her hands in his for balance, and when she sees you walking down the aisle, she shouts and waves at you, nearly losing her balance and tipping off of Mat’s lap. Casey’s hands shoot out and steady her before she can really go anywhere and you exhale in relief.

You wave at her behind your bouquet, an easy smile on your face.

The ceremony is a blur, your focus on Mat and Talia in the back. Towards the end, he has to slip out quickly with the diaper bag on his shoulder, but he’s back a few minutes later, shooting you a quick thumbs up.

By the time you get inside after photographs, cocktail hour is winding down. You, Syd, and Kristy find your little group immediately - Jack, Reese, and Winnie in a little dance circle in the corner even though there’s no real music playing. Alice, Cole, and Talia are looking rough, interrupted naps and a long day getting the best of the younger crowd.

“Hi!” You call out, setting your bouquet on the table the guys have commandeered, reaching out immediately for Talia. Mat offers her up easily and she clings to you like a little koala. “Missed you, baby,” you murmur, kissing the top of her head.

She’s got a handful of squished French fries, which you didn’t realize until her fingers loosen and a couple of them fall down the top of your dress.

“Ah,” you wince when the cold potato touches your skin. Mat snorts at the look on your face and stands up with a napkin to wipe off Talia’s hands.

“Am I allowed to stick my hands down your top to clean you up or is that public indecency?” He asks with a cheeky smile. There’s a smudge of red on his jaw - ketchup, most likely, and you smirk a little, amused that neither Matt nor Casey felt like telling him about it.

Before you can answer, all four of your friends chime in together, “public indecency,” earning an eye roll from Mat.

He ignores them and blocks your body with his so no one can see his hand disappear into your bra. He fishes out the fries and tweaks your nipple on the way out. You turn a gasp into a cough and glare at him. His answering smile is all faux-innocence.

“Now that you two are done being gross,” Matt rolls his eyes, even though he’s smiling, “are you ready to head in?”

The group is ushered into the main reception hall, floor to ceiling windows giving a gorgeous view of the water and the sun as it dips towards the horizon. The kids run off, pointed towards their table by Syd, and the adults head to the table right next to it, the toddler group accompanying. Talia slumps on your lap, looking like she’s fading a bit, until Mat pulls a piece of his roll off and hands it to her.

She beams at him and you make an attempt to get her to say ‘thank you’ that mostly ends up being gibberish unless she’s saying ‘Dada.’

“Feeling better?” Mat asks quietly, angled in your direction. You reach out to swipe your thumb over his jaw, cleaning off the ketchup, and he frowns down at your hand before huffing a laugh when he sees the condiment smudge.

You nod. “I’m good,” you reassure him with the truth. “I think I just really needed to see T this morning.”

His hand is warm on your knee and he nods, satisfied after he studies your face.

The bride and groom make their entrance, doing away with the entrances for the bridal party except for the maid of honor and the best man, and when it’s time for the couples to join them on the dance floor for the first dance, Mat takes Talia in his arms and after the distribution of kids to adults has happened, you’re dancing with Jack. He looks adorable in his little suit, seriously trying to spin you when he sees Casey twirl Reese.

“Jack, you’re the best dance partner I’ve ever had,” you laugh, helping him out by squatting and twirling under his arm.

He grins at you, showing off a smile of half baby teeth and half-grown in adult teeth. “Make sure you tell Uncle Mat,” he says. “Cause he said he could beat me in a dance contest, but I don’t think he can.”

“I’ll pass along the message,” you grin back. The music speeds up and you start swinging Jack’s arms in wide arcs, making him laugh. You push him out and pull him back in, wrapping him in a hug and tickling his sides. He breaks away and transitions into a few fairly impressive dance moves, including the Robot, which you’d love to know where he learned.

Mat dances over to you, Talia happy in his arms and wiggling along to the music. You take her and shimmy, making her laugh.

“Sick moves, Jacky,” Mat grins, ruffling his blond hair.

“Aunt Squeaks said they’re better than yours,” the seven-year-old shoots back, making an attempt to moonwalk away.

You burst out laughing and Mat turns a betrayed look on you. “Seriously?” He asks. “My moves are amazing!”

“Oh, look,” you smile, turning your head, “dinner’s being served!” It’s not, but it works to make Mat laugh and grab your hand to spin you and Talia in a circle.

Dinner is served a few minutes later and you and Mat trade off on who gets to hold Talia on their lap so the other can eat. Mat ends up with her for a good chunk of the meal, talking over her head and opening his mouth when she tries to reach up and shove a roasted potato past his teeth.

“Hey, cool it, girl,” you laugh, tugging at her hand when she misses his mouth and nearly shoves the potato up his nose. “Daddy doesn’t want to breathe in potato.”

Casey and Matt share a laugh before Matt chimes in, “his nostrils are big enough he’ll be able to breathe around the potato.”

Mat flips them off behind Talia’s back and you join in with their laughter, not even pretending to hide it when Mat turns a betrayed look on you. “My own wife,” he cries dramatically. “No loyalty even in my own home.”

You shrug and feed Talia a piece of your filet mignon. “I can’t fight the truth, baby,” you tease, leaning out of the way when Mat reaches for you to pinch your side.

The dance floor picks up again and you find yourself spinning with Mat’s arms around you, Talia taken by Syd to dance with her and Alice.

“She’s a little party animal,” you laugh, watching her wiggle while holding hands with Alice.

“Gets it from her mom and aunts,” Mat teases, hands low on your back, pulling you flush against his body. You can feel the gentle press of his cock against your hip, semi-hard behind his zipper. “She’s going to be a handful when she’s older, isn’t she?”

You nod. “Oh yeah, I think we’re going to have fun watching her grow up,” you murmur, emotion tightening your throat.

Casey and Matt swing Reese and Winnie in the air, Kristy shimmying with Jack. The little group is all laughter and smiles.

“I’m so glad we were able to do this,” you say after a few seconds. “The mini-vacation, the wedding. I know I freaked out this morning, but it’s nice to be around everyone.”

“Good,” Mat presses a soft kiss to your temple, swaying with you. “I was a little worried, not gonna lie.”

A little knot of guilt tangles in your stomach and you frown into his shoulder. “I’m sorry,” you whisper into the fabric of his shirt. “I know this past year has been…” you trail off, too many adjectives applicable to describe the past year.

Mat laughs faintly, “I know. You don’t have to apologize, I’m just glad we’re pretty much back to normal.”

Over Mat’s shoulder, you watch Jack spin Talia in a circle to make her laugh. She laughs so hard she nearly falls over and your heart skips a beat when it seems like she might hit the ground. Matt catches her back and holds her until she regains her balance, still giggling.

“My mom mentioned coming down for a visit,” Mat continues. “Maybe we can take her up on that, let her babysit and go away for the night, just the two of us?”

There’s something in Mat’s tone, a little cajoling, a little frustrated, a lot hopeful.

You haven’t been away with just Mat since before Talia was born, haven’t even spent more than a handful of hours away from her before this morning, but still, you find yourself nodding. “That sounds nice,” you reply, meaning it.

Mat’s fingers squeeze your hips and you pull back to see his smile, grinning back at him.

It’s not the old normal, but the new normal is pretty nice too.

The night winds down and you leave the reception early, Mat’s jacket draped over your shoulders and Talia passed out in Mat’s arms. You help lead the older kids out to the cars, making sure Reese doesn’t trip over her feet. Everyone gets buckled into their appropriate car seats for the drive back to the Martins’ and you find your eyes closing while Mat drives.

His hand is warm in yours and the radio is playing quietly.

“You look beautiful,” Mat says into the silence.

You crack a small smile and open one eye to look at him. “You said that earlier,” you remind him.

“I wanted to say it again,” he turns to you at the red light and flashes a grin, making your stomach flip with butterflies.

“Well,” you squeeze his hand, “I like hearing it.”

Talia wakes up when you try taking her out of the car, whining and crying for you. Her little hands reach out and you take her from Mat, cuddling her close and stroking her dark curls, hoping she’ll fall back asleep. She’s overtired though and doesn’t settle until all three of you are in bed, her cheek pillowed on your chest and her hands fisted in your shirt.

“Shh,” you hum, quietly starting to tell her a story. She whines and wiggles and Mat drapes his hand over her back too, a warm, heavy weight that’s worked to soothe her since she was born. He tickles her back lightly and scoots closer to you, head propped up on his hand. Talia’s cocooned in between your bodies, her knees tucked up to her chest, and she slowly falls back asleep, her face going slack. Her grip on her stuffed cat loosens, even though the plush toy is wedged under her chin for comfort.

“Sometimes,” you whisper to Mat, looking at him over Talia’s body, “I can’t get over how perfect she is.”

He yawns and nods, dragging the light comforter higher up over you and Talia. “We’re pretty damn lucky,” he agrees. He closes his eyes and curls his body in a c-shape around you and Talia, breathing evening out before long.

You’re tired, but you stay up for a little bit longer, watching your husband and daughter sleep. Your fingers trace the curve of Talia’s nose lightly and she wrinkles it, snuggling closer to you in her sleep. Mat snores softly, his breaths ruffling the back of Talia’s hair.

It makes you emotional, to have your entire heart curled up next to you like this.

With a faint smile on your face, you close your eyes and drift off.

Mat lets you sleep in the next morning and you wake up around eight, with a still hot mug of coffee on the night table and a few rocks and shells next to the mug - Mat must’ve taken Talia out to the beach early. You take your time getting ready, pulling on jean shorts and a tank top over your bathing suit before padding downstairs. Being back in your regular clothes makes you feel more normal than the shapewear and bridesmaid dress from last night. You can ignore the extra few pounds and new shape to your body when you’re just in shorts.

There are pastries on the counter, crumbs and dirty plates indicating that you’re not the first person to wander down for breakfast. You pull off a piece of an almond croissant and pop it into your mouth as you head outside. As soon as you open the back door, you’re treated to the childish laughter and splashing noises from the pool.

“Morning!” Syd calls, waving from a lounge chair. “Come join us.”

Kristy beams at you from the next chair and then almost immediately frowns when Jack cannonballs into the pool, sending a huge splash of water into the air. “Jack! I thought I said no splashing!” She calls as soon as his head pops back above the water.

“But Tal and Cole laugh when I do it,” he argues, pointing at the two youngest, who, sure enough, are cracking up in Mat and Casey’s arms. Mat winks at you and you smile, waving as you take a seat at the edge of the third lounge chair.

“Talia and Cole also laughed when Dad dropped the egg carton, but we’re not going to keep doing that,” Kristy shakes her head.

Jack pouts, but to his credit, stops doing cannonballs and instead commandeers a dragon shaped pool float with Winnie and Reese hanging off the wings, shrieking.

It’s loud and chaotic and it’s perfect.

Mat swims over to the edge, Talia holding onto his hands while she kicks. “Good sleep?” He asks, splashing a little water onto your feet.

“Mhm,” you hum, “thanks for letting me sleep in.”

“Anytime,” he leans back, dragging Talia through the water. “T and I took a nice walk on the beach, chatted about all the birds we saw, picked up lots of treasures for Mommy.”

“Bird!” Talia pipes up, loudly and happily, looking around.

Mat grins at you, inclining his head as if to say ‘see?’

You smile back, giggling a bit, and then Mat kicks off the wall, swimming around and making boat noises while he navigates Talia through the water and around the obstacles of Matt, Casey, and the other kids.

“I love summer dad camp,” Syd sighs, stretching out in her chair. “It’s a nice little break.”

It’s definitely nice to have this summer experience as opposed to last summer’s insanity. You can finally enjoy watching Mat with Talia in the warm weather.

He tosses her a little into the air, catching her before she hits the water, and despite the way your heart lurches, you smile at the sound of her shrieked laughter mixing with Mat’s.

They swim past Matt and Alice reaches for Talia for a high-five, one of Talia’s favorite tricks. She looks startled when her hand keeps going and splashes down into the water, sending droplets flying onto her and Mat’s faces. Your husband laughs and wipes the water from Talia’s face before blowing raspberries against her cheeks.

It’s the cutest fucking thing you’ve ever seen.

You surprise yourself, thinking about a second baby held in Mat’s arms. Neither of you have really talked about it that seriously and you’ve been sort of holding your breath, waiting for your brain and body to feel normal enough to do it all over again. But now, maybe it’s time to really start thinking and talking about a second baby. You do a little quick math in your head, if you get pregnant right away, easy like it was with Talia when you weren’t even trying, Talia would be just around two when a second baby would be born. That’s a nice age difference, even three years like Mat and Liana would be good too.

You chew at your lower lip, watching Mat and Talia. Smiling when she smushes his cheeks in her hands and bonks her forehead against his.

Yeah, a second mini-Mat wouldn’t be so bad.

[sleepyparalysisdmon]

Seventeen with a partner who is insecure about their body

Genre: equal parts angst and fluff, suggestive content (MDNI)

A/N: vaguely written so this is friendly for any insecurity. Be kind to yourselves please. You deserve love. 🖤

Won’t hear a word of it - Seungcheol, Hoshi, Mingyu, Seungkwan

A little bit aggressive in how intensely he disagrees with you. He’s so obsessed with you and now he’s set on proving why. He might even call you crazy and stand you in front of a mirror. He’ll squish your face and make you look him in the eye through the mirror so you can see how serious he is while he tells you in great detail all the things he loves about you. The details might fluster you because of how explicit it is sometimes, but it does wash away a bit of the insecurity if only because you can tell how much he means it. For good measure, he’ll make a point to physically prove it, in and out of the bedroom. His goal is to have you feeling like you’re the hottest person on the planet because that’s exactly what he thinks of you. He’ll just keep trying until you finally get it. In quiet moments though, he will remember to tell you all the other non-physical things he loves about you. Prepare for compliment overload because he’s determined to get you to accept them from now on.

Will be so gentle about it - Jeonghan, Joshua, Wonwoo, The8, Dino

Very soft and maybe even a bit emotional about the fact that you’re willing to be vulnerable and admit this to him. He really wants to understand why you feel the way that you do - have you always felt this way, did someone say something mean to you about it, how do you usually deal with this insecurity. Then when the one-sided game of 20 questions is over, he’ll be smothering you with affection and making sure his stance is clear. He’ll let you disagree, but he’ll be steadfast in insisting that you’re the most attractive person he’s ever met. In the coming days and weeks, there will be subtle things that let you know he’s trying to help you feel better about yourself and lift your spirits. Gentle offers to go shopping for clothes that you like, or take a walk to get some fresh air and move your body, or try new makeup - whatever your concern is, it doesn’t matter because he’ll find a solution for it. He’s absolutely not trying to change you, would never dream of it, he just desperately wants you to be comfortable in your own skin and will bend over backwards to help you find tools to do that with.

Feels like a bad boyfriend - Jun, Woozi, DK, Vernon

Where as the first group responds with outrage and the second responds softly, this group would respond with a little bit of devastation. Does he not tell you how much he loves and adores you every goddamn day? Does he need to say it louder?? Does he need to worship the ground you walk on more obviously??? Okay, he will, but not before retreating a little bit to reflect. He feels guilty that maybe he’s contributed to this insecurity unknowingly and replays every conversation you’ve had for the entirety of your relationship so far. In the days after that conversation, he’s touchier and ten times more adoring. He lays it on a little thick on purpose. It’s you who will have to squish his face and say ‘Okay, I get it’ when he’s telling you how pretty and cute and beautiful and hot you are for the thousandth time during dinner when you’d love to talk about anything else. But he doesn’t believe it because your face when you admitted your insecurities is seared into his mind and he won’t be forgetting this anytime soon. Just get used to the new norm which is them being your biggest and loudest cheerleader.

[revelboo]

BEGGING ON ALL FOURS FOR MORE STARSCREAM AND HIS LITTLE HUMAN shield PET

Everything is Alright Pt 2

Starscream x reader

• At some point you fell asleep wrapped in your weird smelling blanket that’s doing blessedly little against the chill in the huge room. By some miracle, your sleep is dreamless and not full of murderous robots. It’s cut short when you wake up to having a giant, alien fistful of junk food dumped on you. Including soda cans and those hurt.

• Starscream watches you fight free of the little nest you’ve made, while swearing nonstop. Up until you look up and spot him watching. Venting softly in amusement as your shoulders hunch and you drop your wide eyes to what he’s brought you, he waits. If he’s going to keep you as a bargaining chip to thwart the Autobots, you’ll need to be fed.

• Junk food. Your captor just dumped a handful of junk food on you- beef jerky, chips, soda, and candy. That has to be a good sign, right? Why bother feeding you if he’s just going to squish you? You just wish he hadn’t dropped it all on top of you. And you aren’t going to think too closely on where this stuff has come from. It’s not like he can just walk into a store and buy it. You’re snapped out of thoughts of sirens and explosions when you realize those fearsome red eyes are scrutinizing you and when you offer up a quiet and very uncertain ‘thank you?’ Big, scary robot freezes. Those wings on his back flick up then back down. Is… he surprised you thanked him?

• While he’s not exactly accustomed to being appreciated, Starscream recovers quickly enough. Of course, you’re thanking him. Your pitiful human life depends on him now. Which is a bit worrying now that he’s actually thinking about it. But how hard can humans be to care for?

• You’re positive that the thank you did take him off guard, a useful fact you file away for later. If it keeps you alive, then you will absolutely fawn over your captor, because you suspect he not only enjoys the attention, he craves it. And that smug, preening smirk paired with those little wing flutters? For a kidnapping killer robot, he’s kind of adorable. Not that you will ever admit that, because you definitely don’t have a death wish.

• Reaching into the empty cube he’s left the human in so it can’t get under ped, he’s only mildly annoyed that it scoots back as if to avoid his hand. Cocooned in that old cleaning cloth as it is, it doesn’t get far before he catches it and lifts it free. Tiny, soft hands clutch at his servos and he can feel its frantic heartbeat as he carries it to set on his desk.

• Heart hammering against your ribs, you swallow down the panic as he places you on a desk before taking a seat and reaching for a huge tablet. You’re not sure what to make of your new found freedom, but you really wish you’d grabbed a handful of snacks before you’d been snatched. You’re hungry.

• Scrolling through reports, Starscream keeps an optic on his new- what, pet? Yes. A pet. Letting out a long drawn vent, he works and tracks you as you stand up still wrapped in your cleaning cloth and dragging it along as you cautiously move around his desk. It only takes a low growl under his breath to discourage you from getting near the edge.

• Your head snaps around to your captor. Yep, he’s watching you. While you’d only wanted to see how high up you were, that apparently isn’t allowed. You retreat closer to him, watching indecipherable alien glyphs scroll on his tablet.

• “Can you believe those idiots? I told them that mine was unstable,” he mutters to himself, refocusing on his work. What he doesn’t expect is for you to wander closer, little face tipped up toward him.

• “They should have listened to you,” you say because agreeing with him has worked so far. And there it is, he freezes and those wings flick slightly. Red eyes dart toward you and away. Then back. He really does crave validation, doesn’t he? And it’s so easy.

Previous Next

[luveline]

how about a little blurb about roan asking reader to straighten her hair and eddie is devastated because someone said something mean to roan about her hair so reader does the dressing gown curls and comes down to the kitchen table for breakfast with hair like roans? 😭

cw this blurb might imply that the reader doesn't have curly hair but hopefully it is ambiguous, like maybe r has a different curl pattern

"What are you doing?" Eddie whispers, face smushed into a pillow. You must've woken him fidgeting with your last pin. 

He went to bed early with a headache. You think that it might've been because of the afternoon's events. Poor Ro was being teased at school again for her lovely hair, and Eddie can't stand it, but worse was the face he made when Roan asked if you could straighten it out. 

That was not cool. Far from Roan's fault, of course, and gutting. 

"Nothing," you whisper, hoping you can tide him back to sleep with some affection, "gimme two seconds, angel, I'm just moisturising." 

You're lying. You pin the last rag in place and turn off the light by the mirror before he can investigate the authenticity of what you'd claimed, sliding into bed behind him to hold his waist and press your face to his hot shoulder. He relaxes into your touch. You're not sure who nods off first. 

In the morning, he seems to have benefited from being the little spoon; he's singing downstairs while Roan giggles, his mood lightened, his voice high-pitched as he soars up to an octave you didn't know he could reach. You set about pulling the pins and rags from your hair, and brush the resulting curls out very gently. You look pretty, because you look exactly like Roan does after she gets her hair done properly, your hair in curls that are nearly ringlet in form, winding loose toward the scalp and tighter at the ends.

You get dressed for work and make your way downstairs. 

"How much toast? One or two?" Eddie's asking. 

"I want two, please," Roan says, leaning back in her chair, the pillows slipping beneath her. 

Eddie obeys her asking and pops the toaster down with two pieces of bread, and then he turns to you and the easy smile on his face stutters. "Oh." 

"Do you like it?" you ask, bringing your hands to your chest with pride, elbows out as you turn one way and the other. "Aren't they pretty?" 

"You look beautiful," he agrees immediately, the impulse of a man who's about to get married saying what his future wife tells him to, but then softer is his genuine agreement, "you look really, really stellar. Doesn't she, Ro?" 

Roan wraps her arms around the back of her chair, cheek squished to the side. "Your hair is like mine." 

"You're lucky," you say, pulling one of the curls behind your ear. You do feel pretty. "It took me ages last night to get it ready and put all of the pins in my hair, but you wake up with your beautiful hair like that every day." 

Roan's voice is chest-achingly hopeful, "You think so?" 

"I love it."

You twist one way and another to drive the message home for her. Eddie scratches a thin layer of butter and strawberry jelly over Roan's toast and puts it in front of her, a quarter piece miraculously missing. 

She squints at him. 

"You have such nice hair," he says eventually through a full mouth. 

You lean over the back of her chair to kiss her cheek and swipe your own quarter piece of toast. "He's right, even if he has no manners."

She giggles and makes herself a little toast sandwich. Her fingers and eyes stay focused on the task at hand, but she says, "Thanks, mommy," quietly and sweetly. 

"You're welcome, my little toast monster. How did you eat that much already? You're impressive." 

Eddie sidles up to give you a grateful hug from the side, his hands joining over your shoulder as he encourages your face toward his. You lean away from his smacking strawberry scented kiss, but you cover his hands so he can't leave too quickly afterwards.

—

eddie, roan and reader drabbles

[milkycarnations]

Three's a Crowd | Brian/Reader/Tim | 2.1k words

Divider can be found here. just a small oneshot featuring Brian with two subs.

one-shot masterlist | mdni | cw: first time anal, orgasm control, dirty talk, dry humping

“Well, aren’t you special?” Brian’s voice drawled out with a satisfied hum. He was more than amused. Startled, you and Tim pulled off of each other, saliva still stringing your lips together and your fingers still tangled in Tim's hair. It was horrifying, as if your parent had walked in and caught you doing something nasty. 

“Both of my subs getting up to no good - and you didn’t even offer to let me watch?” he lilted with mock upset. 

“I didn’t hear you come in,” Tim grumbled. His hands gripped your waist tightly, preparing to end the makeout session and pull you from his lap. 

“And I didn’t ask you to stop. Go ahead.” 

You felt Brian walk up behind you, his eyes boring into your back. This situation was an embarrassment. You and Tim were desperate, it was only natural that you'd turned to each other - even though there wasn't a dominant bone in either of your bodies. Brian was busy. There was no way in hell you'd throw yourself at him. It was a sure-fire way to be sadistically teased and humiliated. That's exactly how you ended up on top of Tim, grinding in his lap as you sloppily made out. You glanced back to look at him. 

"What?" your words came out breathier than you'd hoped, falling in line with Tim's breaths.

"You heard me," he came even closer, "Keep going." 

Tim's hands readjusted, grabbing at your hips now with anticipation. Beneath you, you felt him grow harder, obviously expecting something to happen between the three of you. 

"You're serious?" you weren't sure what you expected, but Tim knew what he wanted. His mouth came to your neck, sucking and licking at the flesh - just where you liked it.

"Do I look like I'm joking?"  Brian pressed up against your back, hips resting by your shoulders.

To be fair, it always felt like he was joking when he had that shit-eating grin on his face. A calloused hand grabbed at your face, squished your cheeks, and pushed you into Tim. 

"Be a good girl and kiss him back." 

Tim whimpered beneath you as he greedily moved to your lips. Unbothered by Brian's presence, he continued where you both left off and bucked his cock up into you. His hard-on was tight in his jeans and the friction from your pants left you tingling. 

"There you go. See, that wasn't so hard," 

Brian's hand moved to your hair, holding your head in place for Tim. The way he gripped your hair always sent a chill down your spine. When Tim's hands dipped to cup your ass, you bit hard on his lip. The involuntary moan that pulled from him made Brian chuckle. Your face was flaming with heat at the wet spot growing in your pants, but that didn't slow Tim down. He was desperate to cum, even if it was from dry humping you on the edge of his bed. The rutting grew erratic and rushed and Tim started panting. His hand must've brushed against Brian's body, because Tim dragged himself away from your face and started to beg. 

"Brian, please! I need to-" 

The subtle depth to his voice made him sound all the more desperate and he whined and keened. 

"Lay down." 

There was a mere moment of hesitation before Tim laid on his back, eager to pull his cock out.

"And scoot up," 

Brian pushed you forward, sending you toppling over Tim's chest. The two of you shuffled up the mattress towards the headboard. Initially, Tim pouted at the sight of Brian walking away, but he perked up as he started rummaging through the nightstand. Opening a drawer, he pulled out a bottle of lube. Tim's mind immediately began to wander, fully expecting Brian to fuck him while you rode on top. It was by far the position he loved the most and he was trying hard to contain himself. 

"Fuck," Tim shuffled to take off his pants.

"No. Those stay on." Brian demanded. 

You paused. Normally, you were wet enough that you didn't need lube. You were especially wet enough now. All Brian needed to do was look. If the lube wasn't for Tim, then-

Brian reached around you and unbuttoned your pants. He tugged them all the way off and tossed them to the floor. 

"Oh wow," he cooed, "You two really were busy. You're dripping already, soaked through your panties. How long have you two been going at it?" 

Neither of you answered. You were both confused, and truth be told, you had no clue how long you'd been grinding against each other. Your panties came off next, followed by Brian's jeans and boxers.

"You should've taken the opportunity to cum while you had the chance," Brian lifted your hips up, situating your pussy above Tim's clothed cock. Farther up, your head rested against his chest. The lube bottle clicked open and closed as Brian slicked up his fingers. 

"Oh!" you yipped.

He rubbed his fingers against your ass before pushing one inside. It felt strange. You'd never done this before - not even with him. Your cunt was right there. Why would he- you let out a shuddered moan. 

"That feel good?" 

Whimpering, you nodded your head. It felt good, but not nearly enough. He continued to work his fingers, graduating to two with ease. Oh my god, why hadn't you tried this before? As he pulled out, you whined at the loss of his touch, but you stiffened when you heard the bottle of lube open again. Brian sighed as he stroked his cock. You managed to look at Tim's face. His pupils were blown wide in disbelief and ecstasy. Conflicted, but desperately horny as he watched Brian play with you.

"What are you making that pathetic face for?" Brian cackled as he worked to lube his dick. 

"I thought..." 

Tim really was pathetic. You felt pity for him as he genuinely seemed mortified. 

"You assumed. You know what they say about that - heh." he giggled to himself before continuing, "but neither of you asked. That's rather inconsiderate. I'd even say distasteful. Relax baby," 

The last part was directed to you as he moved his dry hand across the swell of your ass and patted the flesh. You were both so dumbfounded, realization hadn't truly kicked in until Brian pressed the head of his cock against your hole. Your eyes shot open, and you cried out as your hands gripped tightly against the fabric Tim's shirt. 

"Shh, relax," he tutted, voice tender. Brian worked himself in slowly. His cock stretched you open, but he had prepped you with plenty of lube. It didn't hurt. If anything, it was slightly uncomfortable, but that was only because- 

"You're a virgin," Brian said suddenly. Tim was baffled. You weren't a virgin.

"Do you have any idea what's going on up here?" Brian leaned in to whisper, "I'm gonna fuck her in the ass." he spoke matter-of-factly.

Sandwiched between them, you mewled out in pleasure. It was unlike anything you had ever felt before. Under Brian, your hips slumped down as you found it difficult to support yourself with wobbly knees. Your knees were weak, your legs were weak - your whole body felt weak. Tim whined out, a high-pitched noise unlike anything you'd heard from him. Once Brian bottomed inside of you, he leaned back and tore your hips up. 

"Stay still. I don't want your clit touching anything because you're not cumming tonight. Neither of you." 

Wailing at his words you muffled yourself into Tim's chest. Brian began to slowly draw out of you. 

"That's not fair!" Tim panted. You thought the same. It wasn't fair and Brian was right: you should've cum together before he walked in.

"What about it?" 

"Why does she get to be touched and not me? I asked, I wanted-" 

Brian interrupted, "Because I know you and I can't trust you not to make a mess all over yourself. You'll cum on accident and then you'll just take the punishment like you always do. This is the punishment. A better punishment, because you like pain too much." he emphasized and thrusted back in. "Besides, if she cums while I'm in her ass... Fuck, then I think she deserves it, huh? Wouldn't that be impressive?"

Your legs straightened, "As long as you keep your fucking hips up!" he yelled and placed you back above Tim's legs.

Tim was clearly upset, but he was more flustered than anything. Though it was torture, watching this unfold above him was making his cock leak. Tim was hoping - praying - that Brian would change his mind. Hoping that after, Brian would let him cum anyway. A mixture of lube and slick gathered down your pussy and pooled at your clit. Gravity forced it down and it dripped between your legs in a thick, sticky strand. Tim gasped as it landed on his jeans above his cock and soaked into the fabric. 

"Be a good girl and tell Tim what he's missing." 

Brian began to rut into you at a proper pace, his skin slapping against your ass and thighs. 

"AH- it feels, good!" 

"You can do better than that." 

"It's big," you quieted. Dirty talk would never not be embarrassing. 

"What's big? Use your words for me and tell him."

"Your cock - his cock is big." you told Tim, but he knew that already, too. "It's making me wet and I'm aching, please!" you blabbered out. His cock was dizzying, but it still wasn't enough. If anything, it made your cunt feel needy and sad, because you wanted nothing more than for Brian to be inside it.

"Please, what?" 

"Fuck me," 

"I'm already fucking you." 

Tim squirmed beneath you. He was making unbroken eye contact with Brian, tears brimming in his eyes. 

Drool fell from your tongue. What the hell? Each thrust forced a moan from your lips. 

"God, such a whore for my cock. Are you drooling? Maybe I should do this more often." sniffling, you nodded vigorously, "Good girl, begging me to do something that won't even make you cum. Tim should take some lessons from you. No arguing, no complaining." 

"Brian please, I'm sorry." he started. 

"Now you apologize? What took you so long?" 

"Please, it hurts." 

"So shallow," you could practically hear Brian's smirk, "you're only apologizing because your dick hurts?" 

"I know, I'm sorry, but I can't take it anymore." 

At this point, Tim's jeans looked unbearably tight. He was bucking up and grinding into nothing, the weight of your chest on his driving him insane. 

"That's too bad. I'm gonna cum now. You can think about what that might feel like." Brian's voice was audibly growing hoarser as he neared his orgasm, and Tim sobbed as he realized he wasn't going to get his way. Brian's hips stuttered, each thrust a faint burst of pleasure. It felt as if he was hitting your g-spot from the other side, but it was hardly enough to get close to cumming. You too had started crying as your cunt fluttered around nothing, holding onto Tim tightly.

"Fuck!" Three pumps until he stilled deep inside of you. Brian let out a satisfied sigh before pulling out, cum and lube falling onto Tim's lap again. Tim trembled at the sensation of his wet pants. You went to flop against Tim, but Brian yanked you up and onto your knees. 

"Absolutely not. Both of you need to calm down, first. I'm not gonna let you cum humping each other like dogs. Oh, look at your pretty face." a finger shot to wipe the tears off of your cheeks, "You did so good." 

"Brian, I'm BEGGING you," 

Tim words had become even more frantic. Reaching your hand out, you tugged on Brian's shirt. 

"Please?" 

"Both of you now? Really?" 

"Didn't I earn it?" you pouted. 

He smirked in a way that you knew he had an idea. A hand reached your back as he pushed you onto Tim once more. 

"If you're so desperate," leaning over, he pressed down on your shoulder, making your cunt rub against Tim's jeans. The sticky lube and cum was cold against you. "Just like this. I'll give you a minute, exactly. Quick." 

Instantly, you were all over each other. It only took a few firm thrusts to push your swollen clit over the edge. Being on top gave you a good advantage. Tim wasn't as lucky. Forty-five seconds later, an arm snaked around your waist and tore you away. 

"Fuck, I'm not done!" 

"Minute's up, sorry. Better luck next time?"

[sovereignjojoz]

Syzoth vs human pregnancy

Summary: he’s dealt with zaterran pregnancy so how will he fare with human, it shouldn’t be too difficult, right?

Notes - this is my first time writing for syzoth so I hope it’s okay still getting used to his character!! Also some things could be wrong with the “zaterran” aspects I mostly based it on reptiles because “reptile” lol.

There was a certain human idiom that syzoth had found appreciation for recently, “get a second bite at the cherry”, as luck would have it he had been blessed with a second chance at fatherhood yet contrary to his first partner his second partner was human, leaving a lot of ambiguity surrounding the baby.

Each day that passed his mind was plagued with wether the baby would take more of the human aspects similar to you and his human form or aspects of his zaterran form, or perhaps even a combination of both! Irregardless of how the baby looked he’d still love them with his whole heart, it was just harmless curiosity.

As he had already had experience in catering to his zaterran wife’s need so he was confident he’d be able to cater to your needs during this time, he presumed zaterran and human pregnancy had many similarities.

Immediately he started preparing some of the minor things such as reducing the temperature down to the coldest setting and moving around the furniture for when his young hatched, since that wouldn’t be a long time from the present it was better to get the hassle out of the way now rather than when it’s too late.

The change stuck out like a sore thumb, the cool draft instantly hit your skin causing goosebumps to flare up on your skin while majority of your furniture was seemingly gone.

The sole item that remained in the living room was the couch, which your boyfriend was currently lounging on. You quickly made you way over to him and plopped down on his lap, giving him a small but sweet little kiss.

He used one hand to pull himself back so he was in an upwards position against the chair cushion so you were in a more comfortable position.

You smiled at him and put his hand to rest on your stomach, his touch was extremely calming.

“You changed some things around in here?” You asked snuggling up to his muscular form.

He stroked your slightly protruding stomach, “yes, I thought it was a necessity to make things easier as the babies will be here soon.”

You supposed he was right, time would move rather quickly so it would be better to be prepared.

“I suppose so, but soon is rather early don’t you think?” You questioned.

He raised a brow at you, innocently intrigued, “whatever do you mean my love? There is merely twenty days left before our babies are born, I’d even go as far as saying we were almost pushing it.”

You furrowed your brows in confusion, “syz, what do you mean there’s only twenty days left? I’m only like 9 weeks along?”

He nodded, “exactly, that is almost full term, correct?”

You opened your mouth to speak before closing it once more, thinking on his customs. “No…?” You said tentatively, “a human pregnancy lasts 9 months syzoth.”

His viridescent eyes widened as curiosity painted his face, “oh really? How interesting.”

“How long do Zaterran pregnancies last?”

“The babies are usually born after sixty days, it is honestly not a long process which is why learning of this lengthy time has left me speechless.” He rubbed his short hair as he thought about the complexity that came with humanity.

You squished his cheek, “wow, that’s amazing but can I ask you something?”

“Of course my sweetheart.”

You continue stroking the soft flesh of his cheek, “why do you keep saying babies, plural, instead of baby?”

He kissed the inside of your palm, “because it is natural? It is common to have up to 10 kids at once within my species, that’s why the furniture was moved so there will be space for the babies are born.”

Your jaw hung agape, “t-ten?” You cleared your throat, “Zaterran woman are strong, however I think we’re only having one child.”

“No I assure you that we are having more than one child.” He ruffled your hair and smiled as if he was bemused by your naivety.

You arched your brow, “well how many do you think?”

“Perhaps three, or four, or maybe even five-” before he could even finish his sentence your hand was on his mouth preventing him from speaking, five kids wasn’t something you wanted spoken into existence.

“On that note, I’m going to bed.” Syzoth nodded and released your hand so you could get up from his embrace, “are you coming?”

His soft lips placed a tender kiss on your own while you lingered at the doorway waiting for his answer, “I will be in bed shortly.”

You nodded then went to tuck yourself in.

But even though four hours had passed, there was still something missing…something besides you to be specific. And why was it so cold.

Quickly, you grabbed the fluffy pink blanket that laid atop of the bed and wrapped it tightly around your shivering frame. Normally you wouldn’t have to worry about such things as even though he was cold blooded syzoth provided an abnormal amount of warmth yet when you reached beside you for him all you felt was the untouched side of where he usually lay.

You shuffled out the bedroom with a small nightlight in your hand in sought of where your boyfriend could possibly be.

“Syz?” You peered from around the corner into the nursery, shivering with each step you took.

The taller male groggily rose up from the small confines of a plush stool he’d tucked himself onto.

“[name]?”

Honestly you had so much to say yet nothing at all at the same time, “I- what are you doing in that,” you made a gesture with your hands “tiny space, and why is it so cold?”

Syzoth rubbed his hands into his eyes, groaning a little as he stretched his lithe limbs. “I thought you would feel more comfortable.”

You walked over to him and grabbed his calloused hand, attempting to drag him back to bed however he broke your hold before you could even take two steps further.

He knew by the quizzical look on your face you were slightly confused about his actions, “I understand you might miss my presence, I miss yours tenfold, but it is probably for the best that we sleep separately.”

“Why though, it’s cold?”

He seemed hesitant to answer, “well isn’t it common knowledge that pregnancy makes people aggressive, my zetattan wife tried to kill me when she was pregnant with our son so I thought this would be easier? And my mother always used to tell me that coolness is good for a strong baby and the mother? Have I presumed wrong?”

You giggled and cupped his cheeks, “you’re so cute and thoughtful y’know but I want you in the bed.” He rubbed the back of his neck, “maybe sometimes I’ll have mood swings but I’m not going to eat you.” You glanced him once over, “well unless…”

He chuckled at that and pinched your cheek lightly, “let’s just go back to bed, I now understand zetarran customs are different from earth realm, but there’s plenty of time for me to learn.”

“Exactly.”

He extended his hand out for you to grasp, “wait actually now it’s been mentioned I am kinda hungry.”

“Is there anything I can get you?”

“Yeah!! I’d especially love to try a bowl of those insects you eat with milk and cookies right now. Ooo! Like some sort of sprinkled garnish!”

Nevermind, perhaps he’d never understand the complex ways of earth realm.

[reverie-starlight]

jk I watched one of my favourite keigo edits on insta and I got inspired. happy birthday 2 me 🫶🏻 (the main fic I was working on is still coming, but idk when exactly 🥹)

fem!reader, no physical descriptions. pure birthday fluff with tiny little minuscule amounts of angst sprinkled in bc. well. it’s a birthday. I’m sick for my 20th, so reader is too 😔

you wake up to the sound of squeaky bedroom door hinges and a quiet but still enthusiastic rendition of happy birthday.

barely awake but just alert enough to realize what’s going on, you smile and turn over on your side to face keigo. he walks in slowly with a large bag around his wrist and a cupcake with slightly squished frosting in his palms.

he sits on his designated side of the bed (the one closer to the door since he insists on being your hero at all hours of the day) and waits for you to sit up against the headboard before sticking a candle into the dessert and lighting it for you.

“make a wish, baby,” he says. with how dark the room still is in the early morning, his face is lit up from the soft glow of the flame. warmth settles in your stomach as you watch the flickering reflection in his eyes and you can only think of one thing worth wishing for.

please let this last forever. don’t let me mess it up.

you blow out the candle and he cheers, moving to sit right next to you against the headboard. you lean your head on his shoulder and he happily feeds you pieces of cupcake, feathers working overtime trying to catch all of the crumbs before they reach the bed.

when you finish chewing a piece, he says, “how are you feeling?”

you shrug. “okay today, I think. better than yesterday, for sure- I feel like I can breathe again.”

you don’t miss how he winces at your voice, definitely less congested than the last few days, but sounding even more rough from lack of use overnight. you try to clear your throat, but it turns into a coughing fit. “drink some water, angel, don’t strain yourself.”

the stream of water soothes the itch and you sigh in relief. keigo, not phased one bit by your sickness, kisses your cheek, your nose, and then your lips. “I’m sorry you’re sick on your birthday, sweet girl.”

you shrug and try to play off how his nicknames are affecting you so early in the morning. “it’s okay, keigo, it could be a lot worse. a cold on my birthday isn’t the end of the world.”

his eyes soften. “yeah, but I know you were feeling more hopeful about things this year… it’s not often you get like that about your birthday, so I just wish the universe was on the same wavelength as us about that.”

you look down at your lap and pick at a loose string on the comforter. he must see your lips wobbling, because he slings an arm around your shoulders and pulls you closer.

it’s quiet for a second, but soon enough you’re sniffling in his arms and he knows it’s not your cold acting up.

“it’s okay, sweetheart, let it out.”

he understands birthdays are hard for you. he’s never pried into it, but he has his suspicions.

he could push, but he knows that your issues with your own birthday are far too deep-rooted to unpack in one morning before work. he’ll save it for a later date. right now all he wants is to see you smile again, so he’ll have to distract you from your thoughts.

“baby, you deserve the whole world. you know that, right?”

you shake your head. “I don’t, though. I don’t do anything deserving of what I’ve gotten so far… I don’t work hard enough, I don’t always make the best decisions for myself, I guess I’m a good person, but I could do so much better… I’m just so average. I barely even deserve-“

you end your rant with a half-hearted gesture in no particular direction, but he gets the idea and he frowns in concern.

“me? you don’t think you deserve…me?”

guilt keeps you from meeting his gaze again and he sighs.

his angel, his baby, the love of his life. the one. he just wants to take it all away.

you take things to heart too easily sometimes, so this moment might just be things you’ve let bubble up more recently… but his instinct and familiarity both tell him that these aren’t new feelings.

“sweet girl, I think it’s the other way around. I don’t think I’m very deserving of someone as incredible as you.”

you blink and finally meet his eyes again. “but…”

he doesn’t let you continue. “I would give you anything you asked for just for existing, baby. you don’t have to do a damn thing for my love.”

reaching over to grab the bag he had around his wrist earlier, he presents it to you with a wide grin and an excited glint in his eyes. “but I’ll start with this.”

you take the bag and pull out what looks like a scrapbook. the cover is decorated with foam stickers that spell out both of your names and badly cut paper hearts that look to be taken from sparkly card-stock. the book itself is made from faux-leather in your favourite colour.

your eyes travel up from the photo album to keigo, curiously. he’s happy to see a small smile forming on your face and he wipes away the last of your tears with a feather. “keigo, did you-“

he chuckles a little nervously. “I know it’s not the best work you’ve ever seen, but I wanted to make something by hand for you. I, um, I’ve never really done arts and crafts before.”

he recognizes the sound that comes out of your mouth to be the same one you make when you see a stray animal. he’s not sure if that’s a good thing or not, but the smile on your face as you examine each page (twenty pages total, all hand decorated with printed pictures of you both documenting significant moments over the course of your relationship) makes him think the latter.

“I have other gifts for you, of course, but I know you’ve been talking about having a physical photo album instead of a digital one for a while now, so I thought I’d try it. If you don’t like it, that’s totally okay we can-“

you cut him off by throwing your arms around his neck and kissing him. “keigo, shut up, this is the sweetest gift I’ve ever received. there are songs associated with every picture. you’re literally so cute, where did you even get the idea for that?”

he laughs against your lips when you say that and shakes his head. “you’re joking, right? you always have a song for every occasion, how could I pass up on the opportunity?”

you press your lips against his again and he melts into it, relived that you like his first (of many) gift.

he watches you flip through it a couple more times with a smile before taking it and placing it on the nightstand. “alright, birthday girl, you can go back to sleep if you’d like.”

“you’re going to work?” you try to keep the disappointment out of your voice, but he hears it anyway and he’s so happy he planned for this.

“nope! I’m all yours today. I booked it off months ago, I just want you to rest up a bit more. you’re still sick, remember?”

he snickers when your hopeful smile drops at the mention of your cold. “ugh don’t remind me. but if I’m going back to sleep, you’re coming with me. you don’t have an excuse anymore and it’s my birthday, so I have some sway.”

“you always have sway, baby,” he says while getting under the covers with you.

“yeah, but I’m extra convincing today,” you argue, and he knows if he doesn’t curb the conversation right now, you’ll never fall back asleep.

“alright, alright, come here. just rest,” he tugs you down to lay on his chest and reaches under your shirt to caress your back.

“hey keigo?” you ask after a minute, voice once again riddled with sleep.

“mhm?”

“when you eventually get sick and I have to take care of you, can we add to the scrapbook some more?”

it’s a given that you would continue it together, but he doesn’t say that because he knows you’re too tired for the realization to hit you yet. so instead he presses a kiss to the top of your head. “of course, angel. that sounds great.”

you’re lulled to sleep a few minutes later to the sound of his voice whispering the sweetest of sweet nothings.

“happy birthday, baby.”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

okay this is unedited bc it’s not even 7 am while I’m typing this and I don’t have time later to change anything, so I’M SORRY 😭

the other bday fic is coming I swear 🥹

[vinvantae]

Unmasked

14/16

<<< previous part

Word count: 3.9k

A/N: Big thanks to my girl @formulaforza for not only making one of the edits for me but for beta-reading and helping me make this chapter as good as it can be. Love u ❤️ x

*************************************************

It was uncomfortably warm when you arrived in Spain, humid and sweaty and sticky - you still hadn’t managed to pull what Max and the others had planned out of your boyfriend.

Charles had whined half the morning when you refused to hold his hand that day, clammy palms, you claimed, but in reality you were hoping to sneak into the Ferrari hospitality as discreetly as possible.

You trudged through the paddock with your head down, cap covering your face as you head towards your driver’s room. Sometime before dawn, the PR team had sent over the press conference schedule.The FIA had decided to torture you, putting you alongside the four men who hadn’t publicly defended you from the harassment. They didn’t even know that privately, three of them were fully on your team, so it definitely felt like the sport’s governing body had resorted to bullying.

“Cherie, you’ve barely spoken to me this morning,” his voice was soft, a hand on the small of your back as you stepped inside. “Talk to me.”

“Did you see who they’ve put in my press conference?” Your tone matched his, lifting your eyes from the floor. “I think the FIA are on the side of the dickheads, trying to get me to leave.”

He frowned. “Why would you say that?”

“Because. Why else would they put me in a room with four men that they think hate me?” A soft huff left your lips as you chucked your bag down on a seat as the two of you stepped into the privacy of your room - Charles shutting the door with a gentle click. “It’s just plain nasty. As far as they know the four of them think I don’t deserve my seat.”

“Well.” He placed a hand on your shoulder and gave it a gentle squeeze. “They’re going to kick themselves when they learn the truth.”

You frowned. “What truth? I don’t know what I’m walking into this morning…”

“Trust me. It’s going to be okay.”

You want to believe him, but it’s terrifying going into what would mostly likely be a room full of men who were expecting you to be absolutely tortured by your rivals. You knew the boys had good intentions but not knowing what those intentions were made your stomach flip. Instead of responding to Charles, you gave him a hasty peck on the lips before heading out to said media duties.

It was still fairly quiet around the paddock - not too many people flaunting their VIP passes this early in the weekend, so it was easy to slip through without too much hassle. You’re only stopped once by a group of girls who were all very kind and only asked for autographs. “I can’t believe they’ve put you in a press conference with those little bitches. How hard is it to put out a post saying they support you?”

Your cheeks flushed a soft pink. “It’s kind of hard to explain but Max, Pierre and Esteban do have my back they’re just… I don’t know, I know as little as you.”

“Well, best of luck, y/n. We’ve got your back if you need to teach them a thing or two.” One of them grinned.

Moments like this reminded you exactly of why you wanted to be a driver in the first place. You wanted to be the woman that others looked to for inspiration. You tried to remind yourself of this when a small gaggle of men leered at you as you continued making your way to the conference. They didn’t matter. They’d never matter. And if you were about to walk into a meeting with no back-up then you’d have to remember who exactly you were fighting for.

For the little girl who was watching her very first race, squished between Mum and Dad on the sofa and seeing someone like her amongst the 20 best drivers in the world.

For the teenager who hid under her sheets at 3am to watch races just to see her idol cross the line and wish that maybe it could be her one day.

And for all the women who never got the chance to race, believing they’d never be able to - finally seeing a woman achieve greatness in a sport that was supposed to be just for men.

You do it for them, for all of them.

You took a deep breath before stepping into the holding room. Immediately, four pairs of eyes were on you. You held your head high, not even sparing a glance towards the ones you considered friends. Just as Max was about to cross the room to speak with you, the door to the press conference swung open and the five of you were ushered into the room.

Max squeezed past you so you were sandwiched between him and Pierre on the sofa. You decided not to question it, just sitting down and taking a deep breath.

Let’s just get this over with.

“Let’s just start by saying Fernando, Esteban, Pierre, Y/N and Max - thank you all for joining us nice and early this morning.”

The five of you all gave various hellos to the room, you shifted uncomfortably in your seat as all of the eyes seemed to be on you. You knew exactly what kind of questions were coming - why else would they have put you in the room with these specific drivers if the debate of you being in the sport wasn’t about to be raised once more.

“We have seen a recent influx of negative responses about y/n being on the grid.” You sat up straighter - prepared to defend yourself. “Most of the grid has shown their support, but the four of you have remained quiet. Of course you don’t owe y/n defence but Max, Pierre and Esteban you’ve raced alongside her since you were children. So is there a reason you’ve chosen to remain quiet?”

“We have something to say actually.” Max cleared his throat. “I know we have disappointed people, especially our female fans, for not speaking out in support of y/n. But the three of us believe that putting a post on instagram is simply not enough. It wasn’t a big enough statement.”

Pierre watched your brow furrow as you listened to Max - he knew the words that were about to come out of the Dutchman’s mouth were going to shock you. He wanted to reach out and put a comforting hand on your shoulder but it would draw too much attention so he simply kept a watchful eye on you.

All eyes in the room followed a member of the Red Bull team as they crossed the room and handed Max a piece of paper. You didn’t get a good look at it before he started to read it.

“As a direct consequence of the FIA’s failure to take sufficient and decisive action in protection of driver 30, Y/n L/n, from the violence and harassment faced since the public reveal of driver 30’s identity, a coalition of drivers have signed a petition.” Your eyes burr into the side of his head, but he doesn’t dare look up from the page. “Led by drivers 1, 10, 16, and 30; Myself, Pierre Gasly, Charles Leclerc, and Esteban Ocon, a total of fourteen drivers have agreed to protest the Spanish Grand Prix, including all media duties, free practices, and competitive sessions, until appropriate measures have been taken to protect driver 30, and any other driver, from life-threatening behaviour. The drivers participating in this protest are as follows; drivers 1, 55, 44, 63, 16, 3, 4, 31, 10, 22, 5, 18, 24, and 77. This statement is being formally filed with the FIA immediately following the conclusion of this press conference. The official outline, along with the signatures of all 14 drivers will hopefully be made public by the FIA. If Y/n wishes to continue taking questions, she is free to. The rest of us retain the right to no comment if we so choose.”

The silence in the room was palpable - no one spoke a word as Max handed the piece of paper to you so you could read the names on the petition. You couldn’t even focus on the words, the room becoming a blur. Protest the race?

“The FIA only has so much power over what people post online, surely you cannot protest a race over that?”

“We are aware of this, but y/n was physically assaulted in the paddock. This should have never been a possibility.” Pierre spoke up next, you blinked hard a couple of times to bring yourself back into the room - your facade you’d put on had been blown, so confused by the fact the grid wanted to protect you so intensely. “The FIA have taken absolutely no action at all after the assault. Should’ve been the first thing they did.”

“Y/n, you look taken aback by this statement. Do you have anything to say?”

You lifted your eyes from the petition to see the entire room staring at you. “I uh… I don’t have words to describe how grateful I am. I tried to talk the guys out of doing anything drastic but the fact that so many of them are willing to stick their necks out to stand up for me like this? I… I’ll forever be in debt to them.”

“Don’t you think it’s a little unfair that they’ll all risk being fined while you have no consequences?”

Max could see your jaw visibly clench and he prepared himself for the worst. “Are you serious? How was I supposed to sign a petition that I didn’t even know existed? I never asked for any of this… if they protest the race, you bet I’ll be with them.”

“We actively chose to not tell y/n about this petition as we knew she would ask us not to do it.” Esteban leant forward as he spoke. “It would not have been fair of us to put this on her shoulders with all of the stuff she’s already dealing with.”

You gave him a gentle, sincere smile before finally taking a moment to read the names on the petition. Some of the names weren’t so shocking but others such as George and Yuki were pleasant surprises. There was only a small handful who hadn’t and you couldn’t help but smile, a stray tear escaping at the fact this grid of men - who had nothing to gain - were willing to face fines and penalties to ensure your safety.

“Well, we eagerly wait to see how the FIA responds, best of luck this weekend. To all of you.”

As soon as you stepped back into the holding room you threw your arms around Max and hugged him tight. “You’re absolutely insane.”

“It had to be drastic to get them to listen.” He chuckled, hugging you back.

“I hope you all know what you are risking.” Fernando finally spoke up after sitting in complete silence for the entire session. “All of this to stop some bullying? It is far too much.”

Esteban scoffed a little. “Do you really think the FIA aren’t going to take action when they see the current and former champions aren’t going to race? Even if they don’t believe in what we are protesting for, the amount of money they stand to lose from this is enough of a threat.”

The two teammates stared each other down, the tension palpable. You hoped Esteban was right, ideally you didn’t want any of the boys to get in trouble for you.

But now it was all in the FIA’s hands.

*******

(Credits to Mack for this ❤️ thank you again)

*******

[Simon Lazenby] -“Hello everyone, welcome to Spain just ahead of Free Practice One. I’m Simon Lazenby and today I’m joined by Martin Brundle, Naomi Schiff and Nico Rosberg. Bit of a strange one here today ladies and gentlemen, isn’t it? Well, I guess we better jump into the biggest news to break this weekend - most of the grid have signed a petition and will currently not be racing or performing media duties this weekend. What do we think?”

[Martin Brundle] - “I have to be honest Simon, I do think it’s all a bit of an overreaction from the drivers. We all get critiques through our career whether it be in person or online, so I think y/n should just get her head down and crack on. The fans came to see a race, it shouldn’t be put on hold just for her.”

[Nico Rosberg] - “I have to disagree with you there Martin. What y/n has been put through since her reveal is unprecedented. We as a sport should be celebrating the fact that a woman is one of the twenty best drivers in the world and I think the drivers standing up for her is wonderful to see.”

[Naomi Schiff] - “I agree with you Nico. None of you will ever really understand what it’s like to be a woman in motorsport - we are held to a much higher standard than any man would ever be.”

[MB] - “But don’t you just think, as a two time champ, that she should have a strong enough head to be able to see past the criticisms?”

[NS] - “It’s not just criticisms, Martin. It’s physical violence and hate speech. Any minority in this sport whether it be y/n, Lewis, Yuki or Guanyu will always have people critiquing things they cannot change about themselves. Sure, someone may have called you a bad driver back in your day, but no one has ever told you to get back in the kitchen or go back to where you came from.”

[SL]- “Branching off from that, as you said, other drivers have received hate speech in the past. How would you all say y/n’s situation is any different?”

[NR] - “Being Lewis’ teammate and even as kids, he went through things similar to what y/n is going through. I think the biggest difference is, we didn’t have someone like Lewis to really show us how wrong it was that he was being treated so differently. Y/n is luckily in an era where she is surrounded by drivers who can see just how important it is to her and female fans that they don’t let things like this get off lightly.”

[NS] - “I think it’s important that the FIA take more protective action for all of our drivers. It is just a shame it’s taken most of the grid threatening a protest for the conversation to even take place. Y/n is a two time WDC and it feels like that has all been forgotten just because she’s a woman - it’s about time that the governing body of the sport take things like this more seriously.”

[SL] - “Now onto the drivers who aren’t protesting the race. We have Fernando Alonso, both Williams drivers and both Haas drivers. Now we have spoken to both Williams and Haas respectively and they say it is a purely financial decision not to let their drivers protest but they stand in solidarity with y/n and the rest of the grid. But Fernando is a bit of a different story.”

[MB] - “Fernando’s very old school. Very level headed about dealing with your criticisms - I guess the same as me. So it’s no surprise that he is not partaking in the protest.”

[NS]- “It is a shame as he is one of the most prolific drivers on the grid but I think the message will stay clear with Lewis, Sebastian and Max all taking a stand this weekend.”

[SL]- “Thank you all. Coming up next, hopefully following some affirmative action from the FIA this morning, is Free Practice One. Stay tuned.”

****

****

You tapped your foot nervously against the floor as you waited to hear The FIA’s decision. They unsurprisingly had a very quick turnaround of how they were going to respond to the protest and now the fate of the grid was fully in their hands. They could choose to do nothing and everyone takes a fine or they could actually respond.

Charles sat beside you on the sofa, his hand coming to rest on your knee to stop your leg from bouncing. “It’s all going to be okay, y/n. They can’t not do something… there’s only 5 drivers currently racing, the fans would be outraged if that’s what they paid to see.”

“It’s just a lot. I'm just not sure what they can do,” you said, voice meek. You lifted your eyes to meet his gaze. “Like if people want to hurt me they will, y’know?”

He pressed a chaste kiss to your temple. “They have to do something, I’m sure it’s all going to turn out okay.”

Attention was swiftly stolen as the door slowly opened - a small man with a clipboard entered with an unreadable expression on his face. “Can you all please follow me?”

The sound of 15 pairs of footsteps scuffling out of the room echoed through your head, Charles’ warm hand on the small of your back - the heat of his touch seeps through your Ferrari polo. The 15 of you were sat around a boardroom table facing the president of the FIA and half a dozen other high ranking members. It felt much more like they were sentencing you than opening a conversation.

Your heartbeat was loud in your ears as you locked eyes with the man who was about to decide the fate of the grid.

“Thank you all for meeting with us on such short notice. We hope what we have come up with is a solution that is both suitable and protective for both us and all of you so we can get this resolved quickly and avoid any more of the race weekend being missed.”

It was like he rehearsed the informality of it all, trying like a gentle parent to get down to your level before scolding. You see right through it, through him, through this whole smoke and mirrors show.

Charles linked his hand with yours, the feeling of his fingers intertwined against your skin calms you, steadies your half-rapid breathing. You looked at him, studying his profile for just a brief moment before remembering where you were.

“Any assaults, physical or verbal, performed by any individual at a Grand Prix towards any driver or personnel will immediately be banned indefinitely from any sports and events governed by the FIA. As much as we would like to do more about online harassment, that is much out of our hands - we hope you understand. We will put out a statement saying that we do not tolerate hate speech of any kind.”

Your eyes flickered across the room to gauge the reaction of your rivals. They hadn’t told you what they wanted from the FIA but, to you, it seemed like more than enough. Not only did it protect you but it also covered everyone else. You weren’t leading the protest, though, so in the end it wasn’t up to you. “May we have the room?” Sebastian was the one to break the silence, as one of the leaders of the GPDA he wanted to give everyone the time to collect their thoughts and discuss, rather than having one of fifteen feel that they could speak on behalf of everyone.

The president nodded and the men escorted themselves out - everyone’s eyes fell on you. “Why are you all looking at me like that?”

“…what do you think?” Max asked.

“I didn’t start the petition,” you held your hands up defensively. “It’s not up to me.”

George frowned. “Surely you have an opinion though?”

“Of course I do,” a soft sigh left your lips. “But at the end of the day it’s you guys who are sticking your necks out. If you think this enough then say it is. If it’s not, say it’s not.”

Max gave you a gentle smile, placing a hand on your shoulder as he stood up. “As much as I’d like for them to take more preventative action rather than reactive - I think it’s the most realistic solution and I’m ready to end the protest.”

“Everyone agree? If so then I can get them to write up the decision and we can all get back to doing what we love best, right?” Sebastian hummed, trying to dissipate some of the tension in the room.

A chorus of agreement echoed through the room and you felt like you could finally relax. It had been the longest few hours of your life and as grateful as you were for all of these men to have your back - it would be nice to put it behind you and not have them get in any more trouble.

After the formalities were all done and dusted, a final consensus reached between the drivers and the FIA, it was over. You were finally able to watch them all get back in the cars and do what they all do best.

The next few days felt like a blur, between being ushered from interview to interview about the protest and putting your best foot forward during your time in the car - you barely had a moment to breathe. But after Ferrari achieved a 1-2 start during qualifying, it really felt like the weekend had started over fresh.

“You ready?” Charles approached you on the starting grid, his helmet dangling from his fingers.

You gave him an excited smile. “Yeah, I’m so glad everyone gets to race. I was worried there for a second.”

The softening of his gaze made your heart skip a beat. With his free hand he reached up and cupped your jaw in his hand - brushing a thumb across your skin. “You’re worth it…”

As he lent in, you felt your breath catch in your throat but just before his lips met yours he ducked to the side to whisper in his ear. “But I will beat you in this race, Cherie.”

“I’d like to see you try.” You teased, placing a hand in the centre of his chest to push him back. “I’m on pole for a reason, no?”

“Touché. Bonne chance.”

This time he did kiss you, only for a moment - but long enough to ignite the adrenaline inside you before stepping away to get ready for the race. You shook off the nerves before hopping into the cockpit, anxious to get going.

A small part of you felt a little guilty that you’d qualified ahead of these men who’d helped you but the championship came first. You had to start pumping out results if you wanted to win and knowing now that the FIA was doing their part to protect you - you could focus on what’s important.

And as the green lights began to flash you took one more deep breath before focusing on the clear road ahead.

Somewhere, a little girl’s eyes are glued to her television screen, to your helmet and the infamous red car. For her, for all of the versions of her, it was time to win this race.

******

Next part >>>

Sorry for the delay on this one! Writers block hit me hard 😭 hope you enjoyed! One more thank u to @formulaforza for helping me, couldn’t have done it without you ❤️

Want to be notified when I post? Join our discord, head over to #reaction-roles and click the sunflower 🌻

[lovelettersforthedamned]

Hi, can I have a request for TASM Peter Parker x reader, he’s super nerdy and awkward, and his girlfriend is also shy but she’s more outgoing, and her style is girly and hyperfeminine. They’re both opposites, but they love each other with their whole hearts

Opposites Attract

--genre + trope: so fluffy it's insane, sfw

--pairing: college!tasm!peter parker x college!f!reader

--word count: 0.9k

--summary: when it comes to friend groups, peter is not typically one to gravitate towards them. you on the other hand, are a person magnet. when you have some friends over from class, peter sits next to you trying to stay engaged in conversation. but how could he when you're sitting right there?

--warnings: mentions of drinks (alcoholic or not, it's your preference), kissing, reader is girly, so much fluff wow.

The warm lighting enveloping the environment around you made the room seem cozy and welcoming. You invited some friends over to your and Peter’s apartment to catch up, the hectic life of work and school consuming the group. With a drink in your hand, you’re lounging on the couch with Peter by your side. He’s so close to you, that you’re practically on his lap., but you don’t mind.  

If a stranger walked into your apartment and took a glance at you and Peter, the last thing they would think is that you’re in a relationship. Peter is quiet and tends to be a little nerdy when it comes to things he’s interested in. He leans towards muted colors and casual wear. He’s awkward, in the cutest ways, and doesn’t like to speak when he’s not directly spoken to. Peter’s always been shy around people, opting for you to do the talking, especially around new people. Well, newish. He’s met your friends a few times, but he hasn’t found the right time to be truly comfortable around them. You don’t blame him, you have your own moments when you feel as though you should just observe. 

You on the other hand, you’re more outgoing. It’s easy to make conversation with you, and Peter’s noticed that you draw people towards you. He’s tried to tell you that once, but you quickly denied that, saying that you’re so awkward that it’s sometimes ‘hard to watch’. Peter sometimes looks into your closet when he’s doing laundry and glances at the row of colors. You have an array of dresses that all cater to a certain event. He’s also noticed the array of jewelry spread on your vanity, most of them have a heart right in the middle of it. He noticed that one of your necklaces was a locket, he opened it and saw a picture of him. He doesn’t remember exactly when it was taken, but in the picture, you are squishing his cheeks to pucker out his lips. His eyes are the only indication of his smile that is hidden beneath your fingers. 

Sitting next to him, he notices you’re wearing the same locket necklace, fiddling with it as you talk to your friends. He smiles as he looks back up to you, your way of interacting with your peers makes him forget there’s anyone around you. In his mind, it’s just you. 

“Hey Peter,” the sound of his name pulling him back to the group in front of him, “how’s school going?” 

He can feel your beautiful eyes look up at him, awaiting an answer. “Oh it’s…it’s good. It’s just getting a little busy with midterms starting up.”

A quick conversation about midterms starts but quickly ends when someone gets up to grab another drink, asking around if anyone wants anything else. You and Peter shake your head at the question and remain seated on the couch. You nestle your way farther into him as he throws an arm around your shoulders. 

Nights like these are nice. You get to catch up with your friends without having to leave Peter behind. You know that evenings with him are far and few due to his nightly activities, so you try to keep your outings spread out. Even though you know he’s going to be occupied anyway, you like being there for him, and you know that he likes it too. 

A few more hours pass before people start to head home, the final person leaving just after midnight. Saying your goodbyes, you shut the door and lock it. Turning around, your eyes lay onto Peter’s silhouette, the lights dimmed as the night began to wind down. He’s grabbing trash from off the counter and throwing them away, beginning to clean up before you. You walk over to the mess, placing some cups and plates in the sink before giving them a quick rinse. “Thank you for sticking around,” you put more plates in the sink, “you really didn’t have to you know.”

He faces you putting the last item in the trash, “It’s alright, I wanted to.”

You finish putting the dishes in the sink, saving them for the morning, as you take a few steps towards him and wrap your arms around his neck, “God Peter, I love you. So so much.”

Peter places his hands comfortably on your waist, a soft grin planted on his face, “I love you too, bug.”

You’re already on your tippy toes, trying to reach for his lips as Peter leans down to give you the sweetest kiss. Leaning you on the counter, he presses into you more, wanting to savor the moment. Pulling away with one last peck, you whisper, “Let’s go to bed, it’s getting late.”

A giggle is heard from the man in front of you, “Oh yeah, let’s go to bed.” A wink followed his sentence. 

“Oh sure,” you reply sarcastically, “in your dreams, bug boy.” Pulling him by the hand, you turn off the lights and lead him to your room. Soft laughs are the only things heard as you walk down the hallway and head to bed, wrapping yourself in the warmth of Peter. 

--author's note: MY FIRST ASK WOOOO!!! i hope that whoever wrote this ask is satisfied because writing hyperfem things is definitely something i'm not used to, eeek i hope you like it!!! don't forget to support your writers by liking, commenting, and reblogging!!! my asks/inbox is open, so feel free to send me fic ideas! ok, bye ily<333.