#it's right there. right in the ending slide

[strang3lov3]

Out of Control

“M’serious,” Joel says, voice wavering as he tries to maintain authority. His cheeks and chest are painted the most gorgeous shade of crimson, and heat radiates from his skin. “I can’t - I’m not doin’ it again, sweetheart.” 

“But it’s not up to you, Daddy.” 

Tags - subby!joel, brat!joel/mean!joel? Lol. smut, unprotected piv, creampie, daddy kink, age gap, cum eating - making that old man swallow his own load (closed loop system), terrorizing that old man via cock and ball play, teasing, nipple play, orgasm denial/overstimulation. He also cries a little. Sorry, Joel. 2k words. A/N - “And then I splooge in her mouth, and—I know, I know! And get this, she kisses me and puts it back into my mouth, and I swallow.” “Which, the cum?” “I know. So hot!” “You swallowed your own load?”

Joel’s arms are around you, caging you in. You watch him roll his hips into you, the beautiful sight of his cock sliding in and out of your body, covered in creamy ribbons of your arousal. With every thrust, his head kisses your cervix and rubs against that sweet spot inside of you. “Oh, Daddy,” you moan, wrapping one of your arms around his shoulders. You reach for his hand and push it between your writhing bodies, panting Joel’s name. 

“Yeah?” Joel breathes, pressing the calloused pads of his fingertips against your clit. “You wanna cum, baby girl?”

“Mhm,” you whimper, burying your face into Joel’s armpit as he rubs your clit in practiced circles, fucking his cock into you even deeper. 

“Cum for Daddy,” he whispers into your ear, his mustache tickling the soft skin of your cheek. “C’mon, baby. That’s it, sweetheart.” 

You cum with a soft cry, digging your nails into Joel’s skin hard enough to scratch him, not that he minds. A little soap and water, a bit of Neosporin and he’ll be golden. If he cares enough to even do that. Joel takes in all of your pleasure, drinking down your moans as he fucks you harder, timing his thrusts with the pulsing of your cunt. He breathes your name as he cums, pumping you full of his warm, sticky spend. 

Joel pulls out of you quickly, uncaring about his mess you’re spilling onto his sheets. His heart pounds and his lungs burn as he flops onto the mattress, graying curls wild as they stick up in every conceivable direction. “Oh, goddamn. I love ya,” he murmurs, pulling you into his side. “You did good. We’re gettin’ ready for bed, now.” He gives you a quick kiss on your forehead, then reaches for his reading glasses and the book he’s been reading to you. 

As Joel searches for his place in the book, you stare at him, contemplating. He seems relaxed, yes, as he passes a hand through his damp curls. More relaxed than usual at least. But he’s still so…so On. But that’s just Joel, right? Joel, who makes time for you, but never for himself. He masturbates every morning in his lukewarm shower with his hand against the tile, and he comes in less than two minutes. Gives himself a thorough scrub from head to toe and he’s off to do whatever it is he does all day, whatever it is that keeps him so busy. Always go, go, go.

A truly relaxed Joel would be a sight, you think. A Joel all fucked out and lightheaded, humming to himself as the aftershocks of his pleasure wash over him, long after the orgasm’s ended. Joel leaves you in that beautiful, blissed out state all the time. Would it be so insane to do the same to him?

“What the–” You lift Joel’s arm and slide out from under it, crawling backwards down the mattress. “Where the hell are you off t–oh.”

You settle yourself between Joel’s legs, and rest the side of your head on his hip, his belly pressing into your forehead. You reach for his soft, leaking cock and play around with it, which makes Joel chuckle quietly. “Guessin’ you ain’t done with me yet, are ya?”

“Mhm,” you hum, tracing down his shaft. He looks amused. You pet his pubic hair, gently twirling your fingertips around the curling, graying, wiry strands, damp with sweat, cum, whatever. 

Joel rolls his eyes. “Uh-huh. Knock yourself out, kid.” 

He doesn’t buy it. Joel knows when he’s satisfied his girl. He’s pinpointed your limits and pushed you past them, and held that melted, fucked out version of you in his arms as you slowly made your way down to earth, like a feather falling through the air. 

But that’s Joel’s problem, isn’t it? He forgets that you can be satiated for one thing, but hungry for another, and therefore not settled. At this moment, you want to find heaven between his thighs. Taste his pleasure as he’s tasted yours, bring him to those heights. Really, you want to milk him fucking dry - it’s as simple and stupid and animalistic as that.

You slide up his body, pushing yourself under his arms. Joel lifts his book and dog ears the page he’s on, then sets it on his nightstand. “Whatcha thinkin’ about, sweet girl?” he asks. “What’s goin’ on in that mind ‘a yours?”

You look down at the vast expanse of his skin, admiring his gorgeous torso. You slide your palm up his ribcage, noting the little breath he sucks in. With your middle finger, you trace around the rippled, silvery-pink edges of a scar on his abdomen. “Where’d this one come from, Daddy?”

“Ohhh,” Joel begins, looking down at the scar he thinks is so hideous. You think it’s beautiful, like the rest of him. “I got into it with a - oh, fuck.”

His words falter as you kiss his shoulder while running your fingertips from his collarbone to his chest, gently tracing over his nipple. You round it in circles until it stands at attention, then give it the sweetest, softest of pinches. 

“What’re you doin’?”

“Nothing,” you lie, lowering your face to flick your tongue over his other nipple. You roll the one bud between your fingertips, feeling Joel’s chest rise and fall with deeper, shakier breaths. “Got into it with what, Daddy?”

Joel takes his glasses off and folds in the arms, then sets them to the side, missing his nightstand. They fall on the floor instead. “Uhh,” he drawls, voice cracking a little as you switch places, twirling your fingers around his wet nipple while licking at the other. His length thickens underneath you, twitching against your slit, and that only makes him harder.

“Tell me, Daddy.” 

“Some - someone hurt Daddy real good,” Joel answers. You look at him with big, concerned eyes, pouting a little as you tease his nipple. “Was a long time ago. But’m all better, now.”

You lean up to press your lips against Joel’s, and as quickly as the kiss begins is it over, with you kissing your way down his torso. Sloppy, wet, open mouthed kisses over his neck, a vein pulsing beneath your lips. Down his collarbones to his chest, kissing one nipple and across to the other, then down the centerline of his body. You drag your tongue down his happy trail and kiss just next to his cock, then lick your way up the perfect curve of his shaft. You taste his cum and your own arousal, humming at the flavor like you’re licking the batter off of the spoon. 

“Ohhhh, lord,” Joel moans, feeling you gently kiss his balls. You lick over the soft, wrinkled skin, then suck as much of his sack into your mouth as you can. You can feel the sharp points of your canine teeth pressing against him, and you’re conscious to stay gentle. You’re not cruel, no. Don’t want to hurt him. At least not like this.

Silently, you kiss your way back up to his cock, and grip the bottom of his length with your hand. You take his tip into your mouth and swirl your tongue around the blushed, leaking head, tasting the small bead of precum that sits so pretty at his little slit. 

Joel can’t do this. He begins to buck his hips, and it’s unclear whether he’s trying to fuck himself into your mouth or push you off his body. But he can’t fucking do this. Or maybe he can. Does he even want to? His dick is still tingling from the first orgasm, and fuck, you’re sliding down his length, and he’s now sucking in a strained breath. It’s too much, it’s too much, it’s too much. 

Joel can feel his pulse in his fucking throat. “Oh, my heart,” he whimpers, clutching one hand against his chest as he tangles his fingers in your hair with the other. “S-stop,” he begs, “Ease up f’me, kiddo.” 

You pull your mouth off of his cock with a pop. “But I want you to cum for me, Daddy.” 

“Yeah, no. You milked - oh, Christ–” Joel’s voice breaks, “You milked Daddy fuckin’ dry, honey. No more. Not tonight.” 

You simply ignore Joel’s desperate words, and close your lips around his girth, letting yourself drool as much as you please. You move one of your hands to his balls and give the pair a gentle, soft fondle as you move yourself up and down, tracing your tongue along that one throbbing vein. 

“M’serious,” Joel says, voice wavering as he tries to maintain authority. His cheeks and chest are painted the most gorgeous shade of crimson, and heat radiates from his skin. “I can’t - I’m not doin’ it again, sweetheart.” 

“But it’s not up to you, Daddy.” 

Joel lets out something between a deep, guttural groan of frustration and a laugh of disbelief. “You fuckin’ - fuck - you’re startin’ to piss me off, now,” he warns, tugging on your hair. And you just let him.

You squeeze his balls in a way less than kind, a warning. With a buck of his hips and a sharp gasp, Joel learns quickly that you’re just as serious as he is, and you’ve got him in the palm of your hand. Literally. 

“Okay, okay okay - Jesus,” Joel whines. He surrenders himself to the pleasure and the pain, willing himself to cum so that this fucking…whatever the fuck it is you’re doing to him, is over. “I’ll cum for ya, alright? I’m - I’m close,” he insists. “Make Daddy cum now, honey.”

Joel’s thighs are twitching, muscles flexing in his soft tummy and his forearms as he grips the bed sheets tightly.  “Kid–” Joel taps you urgently, tears welling up in his eyes. He wipes them away quickly and sniffles. “I need to cum, okay? Fuck. I need–”

“You have to ask, Daddy.” 

Joel growls in frustration. “Can I,” he begins, breathing heavily, “Fucking cum.”

“I don’t know. Can you?” You kiss his tip and grin at his pained expression, feeling quite proud of yourself at the way you’ve managed to pull this off. Stringing his pleasure along, giving him just enough to keep him begging for more but not enough to push him over the edge. Poor, poor Daddy.

“Oh, fuck you,” Joel spits. “May I cum?”

“Manners, Daddy. Like you taught me.” 

Joel balls his hands into fists and throws them at his sides, babbling something in anger and desperation. “I am gonna fuckin’ throttle you, kid,” he seethes, but you take the threat in stride. There’s nothing he can do to you that he’s not already done before. 

“May I fucking cum, please.” Joel bites. 

Joel only cums when you tell him to. An inhuman sort of scream claws its way up through his chest before he can even register that it’s he who’s making that noise, shooting rope after rope of his spend into your warm, wet mouth. Every nerve of his is raw, every muscle tensed as he bucks his hips into you. He lets out a sob of sorts and covers his tearful eyes with his forearm as you pull off of him, quickly crawling up his body. You press your lips against his and push all of his own cum into his mouth, and Joel makes a surprised sort of noise at the taste of himself. You cover his lips with your hand, forcing himself to swallow his own load as you kiss away his tears. 

Joel takes wheezing breaths, pupils wide with anger. “Betcha feel real fuckin clever, yeah?” he snaps. “Where’d you pick that trick up from, huh? Jesus. Takin’ advantage of an old man, fuckin’...”

Joel trails off as you reach for his book, and lean over the bed to pick his glasses up off of the floor. You place the book in his hands, then put his glasses over his ears and perfect, aquiline nose. “Read to me, Daddy,” you tell him, then snuggle back into his side. He’s sweatier than he was. 

Joel rolls his eyes, shakes his head and pinches the bridge of his nose. “Read to you, huh? Really?”

“Uh huh.”

“You’re goddamn lucky I love ya,” he says. “An’ that you’re fuckin’ pretty.” Joel finds his place in the book, then clears his throat and begins reading.

Thanks guys ♡ if you enjoyed, tell me somethin good here or in my inbox. This is my first time writing a submissive Joel! Your words keep me motivated to write. I love you all.

[satellite-evans]

just rain

Pairing: Lando Norris x reader

Summary: Lando claims his first win of the season in a rain-soaked Melbourne Grand Prix with a gentle reminder of his son.

Word count: 4k+

Warnings: fluff, anxiety

A/N:

picture credits @pucksandpitlanes <3

AHHHHHH LANDO WON IM SO HAPPY FOR HIM!!!! I couldn't watch bc of time zones but when is saw it in the morning I was soooo 🥹🥹🥹

also Alex being higher than the ferraris was NOT on my bingo card lol but im super excited for him too🤎

I overdramatized the race a bit and it is not 100 % accurate 😅

English is not my first language, so I apologize if I made any (grammar) mistakes. Feedback, requests, talks, vents, recommendations or just simple questions are always welcome.

Happy reading xxx

I do NOT give permission for my work to be translated or reposted on here or any other site.

The sky was breaking open.

What had been a perfect, cloudless Saturday — where everything had felt possible — was now a roaring mess of water and wind.

The same track that had held his first pole position of the season now looked like a stranger.

Lando stood by his car, helmet tucked under his arm, rain sliding off his race suit in steady streams, like the sky itself was crying for him.

He was trying — really trying — to get his head straight.

But it was hard.

Hard when the weight of every near-miss, every mistake, every podium that wasn’t a win pressed on his shoulders.

Hard when the image of Max in São Paulo, slicing through the rain like it wasn’t even there, looped in his mind, taunting him.

This was supposed to be his day.

Pole was supposed to mean something.

But now, all he could think about was how easily rain could take that away.

What if I mess it up? What if I lose everything? What if-

“Daddy?”

The small voice broke through the storm in his head like sunshine through clouds.

He turned.

There was Noah — rain dripping from the ends of his jacket, cheeks pink from the cold, eyes wide and honest and full of something Lando had lost in the last few hours: belief.

You hovered just behind him, watching quietly, giving them space.

Lando crouched down, resting his arms on his knees to meet Noah at eye level.

“Hey, buddy,” he said softly, though his throat felt tight. "You okay out here in the rain?"

Noah frowned, taking a step closer until he was right up in Lando’s space, hands reaching to tug gently at Lando’s suit.

“I am okay, but why are you not okay, Daddy?” he asked, tilting his head. "Aren’t you gonna win? You said you were gonna win."

Lando let out a breath, a shaky laugh that didn’t quite reach his eyes.

"I know, mate. I… I wanna win." His voice cracked at the end.

Noah blinked up at him, unbothered by the rain hitting his face. "Then why are you sad?"

Lando hesitated. What could he even say? Because sometimes winning feels impossible? Because I don’t know if I’m good enough? Because I'm scared?

Instead, he shrugged, offering a small, forced smile.

“It’s raining a lot,” he finally said, as if that explained the weight in his chest.

But Noah just gave him a look — the same look Lando had given you a thousand times when he thought you were worrying too much.

“It’s just rain, Daddy," Noah said matter-of-factly. "We like rain.”

Lando blinked, caught off guard.

"You always chase me in the rain," Noah continued, smiling now, that childhood certainty glowing in his eyes. "You say it makes you run faster. And you always catch me, even if I’m the fastest runner ever."

A soft laugh broke from Lando's lips, something warmer, something real.

"And Mommy always says we’ll get sick but you don’t care," Noah went on, as if this were the most important fact in the world.

"You say, 'It’s just rain, Noah. Rain makes us faster.’”

Lando’s throat tightened.

For a second, he couldn't speak.

Because in that moment, through all the noise and pressure and fear, his son had reminded him of something he’d forgotten:

Who he was.

Not just a driver. Not just a number on a screen.

But Noah’s dad. Your partner. Someone who could be brave when it mattered.

Lando reached out and pulled Noah into a hug, pressing his face into the crook of his tiny shoulder, breathing in the rain and the smell of his son — like grass and soap and home.

"You're right, little man," he whispered, voice thick. "It's just rain."

He pulled back, brushing wet curls from Noah’s face.

"And you think I'm faster than everyone, huh?"

Noah grinned, eyes lighting up. "You’re faster than everyone, Daddy! Even if it's raining forever!"

Lando let out a real laugh this time, warmth blooming in his chest.

He looked up to find you, standing there with your arms wrapped around yourself for warmth, but smiling, tears quietly mixing with the rain on your cheeks.

Their eyes locked for a moment, and you gave him a nod — small, but enough to say we believe in you.

Lando stood, keeping Noah’s little hand in his, squeezing gently.

“Okay, buddy. I’m gonna win that trophy for you.”

“Yay!” Noah beamed. “But you can keep it for your shelf... if you want.”

Lando chuckled, leaning down to press a kiss to the top of Noah’s head.

“No, I think it belongs in your room.”

Noah’s smile widened, his eyes sparkling with pride, as though his father had just promised to conquer the world for him. In that moment, the rain didn’t feel so heavy. The doubts that had plagued Lando’s mind were still there, but the weight of them didn’t seem quite as unbearable with Noah at his side.

And you — your smile, your quiet support — made the world seem possible again.

As they walked toward the pit lane, Lando felt a shift inside of him. The rain wasn’t a burden anymore. It was a challenge. A reminder that no matter how many times life tried to knock him down, he could always get back up. Just like he always did when Noah ran faster than him, laughing, his tiny feet splashing through puddles.

Lando squeezed his son’s hand tighter.

"Let’s show ‘em what we’ve got, buddy."

With a nod from Noah and a final glance at you, Lando felt the familiar rush of determination surge through him.

This wasn’t just about the race anymore.

It was about being the man he promised to be — not just for himself, but for the ones who believed in him.

The Australian Grand Prix was shaping up to be a classic.

As the cars lined up on the grid in Melbourne, the drizzle had kept the track damp, just enough to keep the tire choices uncertain. It wasn’t the heavy rain that everyone had feared, but it was far from perfect racing conditions. Still, Lando sat in P1, his hands firmly gripping the wheel, his focus set on one thing: keeping that lead.

The McLaren car was well-suited to the conditions, and Lando had a good start. The lights went out, and he got off the line clean, his heart racing in sync with the growl of the engine as he took off into Turn 1. He held his ground, blocking Max, who was gunning for the lead, while Oscar — his teammate and the home hero — was hot on his heels in P3.

The track was slick, but Lando’s experience in these tricky conditions helped him build an early gap. His McLaren was light and agile, its handling sharp as he darted through the twists of the Melbourne layout. Verstappen, however, wasn’t far behind. The Red Bull driver was a constant shadow, ready to pounce at the slightest mistake.

By the first pit window, the rain had picked up a bit more, turning the track into a quagmire of uncertainty. Tire choices were a gamble — intermediate tires or full wets? The crew had to decide quickly, and they were calling for intermediates as the rain began to settle. Lando glanced nervously at the sky but held his ground. “Let’s stay out a bit longer,” he told his team, his voice steady but with a hint of doubt. Don’t get greedy, just don’t make a mistake.

Max pitted early, pushing for the full wets as he believed the track was getting too slick for anything else. He rejoined the circuit behind Lando, but it was clear he was closing the gap, his tires cutting through the water more effectively than Lando’s.

Just as the McLaren pit crew started to signal for a pit stop — the conditions changing rapidly — the first Safety Car period was called. A rookie crashed heavily into the barriers, bringing the race to a halt. Lando’s heart raced again as he followed the Safety Car. Was this a blessing or a curse? The rain had intensified even further, and the conditions were treacherous. Oscar, who had been showing great pace, was caught out in the slippery conditions, skidding onto the grass, and although he tried to recover, he struggled to get back on track in time. He was forced to return to the pits, ultimately falling back to P13.

Now it felt like a battle between Lando, Max, and the rest of the pack. But just as they prepared to go racing again, the rain poured down harder, the track quickly becoming a slippery mess. It was a delicate balance for Lando, who was managing the lead with grit and skill but was well aware that Max was waiting to pounce.

The green flag waved again, and the cars shot back out into the mix, Lando still holding off the charging Verstappen.

Lap after lap, Lando danced on the edge of control. Every corner was a fight, every moment a test of his patience and skill. The McLaren’s rear end was constantly sliding out, but Lando somehow kept it in line. He could feel Verstappen breathing down his neck, waiting for him to make a mistake — and then, it came.

The rain intensified in a sudden downpour, and the track became a slick, unpredictable nightmare. The tires couldn’t keep up, and the grip was nonexistent. As Lando tried to brake for Turn 4, his tires locked up, and he was forced to take a detour through the gravel, his heart nearly stopping as he fought to stay on the track. He got back on just in time to gain his way back to P1.

Lando was far from done.

He set his sights forward, telling himself to focus — just focus. The rain was lashing down, but with each lap, Lando found his rhythm again, using the high-speed corners to his advantage, keeping the McLaren planted while others struggled.

A second Safety Car came out as Jack Doohan spun into the gravel, and just as quickly, the race was halted once again. The field bunched up, and Lando’s mind raced. He could feel the pressure of it all — a season opener, a potential win slipping through his fingers as Verstappen loomed behind him.

And then, when it seemed like he was about to lose his edge, Lando had a moment of clarity. He’d thought about Noah — his little boy, his voice in his head, telling him, "You’re faster than everyone, Daddy."

Lando could feel his son’s words ignite a fire inside him. He wasn’t racing to prove anything to anyone else, but to show Noah, to show himself, that no storm, no matter how wild, could stop him.

When the Safety Car came in again, Lando took a deep breath. The track was as slippery as ever, but the fight wasn’t over.

Lando’s heart was hammering. He was in the lead, and with the final few corners in sight, he pushed his car to the edge. The track had dried just enough, but the pressure on him was unbearable. He took a deep breath and crossed the line with the loudest, most cathartic roar of his life.

Lando Norris had done it. He had won.

P1.

He couldn’t believe it.

The rain had made this race a battle of attrition, and as he eased into the cooldown lap, he couldn’t help but smile to himself.

He slowly lifted his hand to the radio and spoke to his team, his voice shaky with emotion.

“Oooph! Little bit of pressure, well done boys. Beautifully handled. Excuted to the second. One second later and we were done so well done everyone. Congrats, amazing way to start the year. Thank you so much. This one was for you, Noah.”

The world exploded in cheers as the McLaren pit crew erupted, their joy a mix of disbelief and ecstasy. But through the noise, Lando only had one thing on his mind: you and Noah.

He couldn’t wait to share this with his little boy and with the love of his life.

Lando brought the car back to the pit lane. He could hear the roar of the crowd, the fans cheering from the stands, even as the noise inside his helmet began to fade. He blinked, trying to keep his focus, but his hands were still shaking slightly from the adrenaline. His chest felt tight, like he was trying to contain all the emotions swirling inside him — relief, pride, and an overwhelming sense of gratitude.

He had done it.

He had won. P1.

As the car coasted into the pit box, the team was already waiting. The McLaren crew flooded around him, clapping and shouting, their faces beaming with joy. But Lando barely registered any of it. His eyes were scanning the crowd, searching for the two faces that meant the most to him — you and Noah.

The cheering around him felt distant, almost muted, as if it wasn’t real. But seeing you, standing by the barriers, your eyes wide with emotion, was like a splash of cold water. The world around him snapped back into focus. He could see Noah next to you, bouncing up and down, his small face lit up with excitement.

Lando’s heart swelled.

He quickly removed his helmet, his wet hair clinging to his forehead, and climbed out of the car. He could feel the weight of his win, but in that moment, it felt lighter. He was overwhelmed by how much this meant to him. It wasn’t just the victory, it was that he had made it — for himself, for you, and for Noah.

Before the team even had a chance to celebrate properly, he was walking toward you.

“Daddy! You did it!” Noah cried out, his voice high-pitched with excitement. Lando's eyes softened, and he dropped to one knee, his arms open wide.

Noah ran straight into his arms, as Lando hugged him tight, holding him close like he had been waiting for this moment for a lifetime. The rain still fell lightly, but it didn’t matter. All the chaos of the race, the uncertainty, the fear — it was gone.

“I did it, buddy,” Lando whispered, his voice thick with emotion. “We did it.”

“You’re the fastest, Daddy!” Noah exclaimed, his small hands grabbing onto Lando’s race suit. “I knew you were!”

Lando chuckled, pulling back just enough to look at his son. “You knew, huh? You were right all along.”

Noah nodded vigorously, his smile as wide as it could go. “You told me you were faster than everyone. And you are!”

Lando’s chest tightened at his words. He had said it to Noah so many times, almost as a promise, a reassurance that no matter what, he could always come out on top. He had made sure to tell Noah that on the tough days, on the days where it felt like nothing was going right, but now it was reality.

And it was because of you and Noah that he had found the strength to keep pushing.

Lando stood up, holding Noah in his arms as he walked toward you. The world seemed to slow as his gaze locked with yours.

You were smiling, but there was something else there — something that said “I knew you could do it”. You were just as emotional as he was. Your eyes glistened with pride, but there was a tenderness in your expression that made him feel like he was home.

“I told you, didn’t I?” Lando’s voice was rough with emotion as he reached out for your hand.

You nodded, your hand fitting perfectly into his. “I never doubted you for a second.”

He leaned in, his eyes soft as he looked at you — the weight of the moment hanging in the air. Without thinking, he pulled you into him, pressing his lips to yours in a kiss that was full of emotion. It was gentle at first, a quiet acknowledgment of everything he had been holding inside.

For a moment, time seemed to slow, and Lando could feel the joy and relief in that single kiss. It wasn’t just the victory he was celebrating, but the shared understanding between the two of you — the quiet support, the unwavering belief, the love.

When he pulled away, his forehead rested against yours for a beat longer, as if he didn’t want to let the moment slip away. "I couldn't have done it without you," he whispered, his breath warm against your skin.

Noah squirmed in Lando’s arms, eager to get down and join the celebrations. Lando carefully set him down, and Noah immediately ran off toward the McLaren crew, who were cheering and clapping for the win.

As Noah ran off, Lando turned to you, the full weight of the victory finally sinking in.

“I didn’t think it was going to happen, not with the rain, not with Max so close,” he admitted, his voice quiet. “I almost lost it.”

You smiled softly, brushing a damp strand of hair out of his face. “But you didn’t. You held it together, even when it was tough.”

Lando nodded, his heart full. “I had to. For you, for Noah. I couldn’t let this slip away.”

“You didn’t. And look at you now.” You cupped his face gently, your thumbs brushing over his wet skin. “You’re amazing, Lando.”

He closed his eyes for a moment, savoring the quiet moment before the world around him started to roar again. But it didn’t matter. He had done it.

The sound of the crowd cheering filled the air, and Lando turned back to watch his team. His crew was celebrating with Noah in the center, lifting him up in excitement. It wasn’t just his victory, it was theirs too. They had all worked for this moment, and Lando could feel the bond between him and his team, his family, stronger than ever.

As the team ushered him toward the podium for the celebrations, he couldn’t stop smiling. His eyes sought yours one more time, and in that glance, everything was clear. This was just the beginning.

As the excitement of the podium celebrations slowly faded, the atmosphere began to settle. The noise of the crowd dimmed as the McLaren team gathered to wind down, still congratulating Lando for his incredible win. It was time for the world to return to normal — at least for a little while.

The rain had stopped during the post-race celebrations, but the sky had once again darkened, and soon enough, the first raindrops began to fall, soft and steady, like a quiet whisper.

Lando was supposed to be getting ready for the press conferences, and Noah had been escorted back to the team’s area, his energy barely contained after all the excitement. But as the minutes ticked by, you found yourself standing near the pit lane, looking around, trying to spot them — Lando and Noah.

They had been with you just moments ago, but now, there was no sign of either of them. You checked the garage. No luck. You headed toward the pit, but nothing. The sound of the rain grew louder, and you could feel the cool droplets on your skin, the familiar scent of wet pavement filling the air.

As you were about to turn back toward the team area, you heard a familiar laugh.

You looked up. There they were.

Lando and Noah were standing near one of the back entrances to the track, the two of them laughing and completely drenched. Lando’s jacket was already soaked, but he didn’t seem to mind. Noah, in his little race suit, was jumping up and down, splashing in the growing puddles, his face glowing with pure joy.

Lando had both arms raised, pretending to be a goalkeeper as he blocked Noah’s wild attempts to splash him with water. They were in their own little world — no race, no press conferences, no podiums, just the rain and the playful chaos of it all.

And for a moment, it felt like everything had slowed down again, just like it had on the track.

You smiled to yourself, watching them. The rain didn’t bother them; if anything, it seemed to make the moment even more special. You could hear Noah shout over the rain, his voice filled with glee, “Come on, Mommy! It’s just rain! You can do it too!”

Lando caught sight of you, his eyes lighting up with mischief. He shrugged with a grin, as if to say it’s just rain, no big deal.

Noah ran toward you, water splashing with every step. “Mommy, come play!” He giggled, his face streaked with joy and raindrops. “It’s fun! Daddy says it’s just rain!”

Lando was right behind him, shaking his head in mock exasperation but his smile betraying the playfulness in his voice. “Come on, babe, it’s just a bit of water. What’s the worst that could happen?”

You could see the way Noah looked up at you with those wide, hopeful eyes. You couldn’t say no.

With a sigh, you gave in. “Fine, fine.”

You stepped forward, and in a moment of complete surrender, you joined them, letting the rain soak through your clothes as you took a running leap into the nearest puddle with Noah. The splash was enormous, and Noah shrieked with delight, running off to jump in the next puddle.

Lando joined you, laughing, as the three of you danced and played under the darkening sky, the rain falling harder now but somehow feeling like the perfect way to celebrate the day.

For that fleeting moment, there was no world beyond the sound of Noah’s laughter, the rain crashing down, and Lando’s teasing calls as he splashed you and Noah. The storm had come back, but instead of being a nuisance, it was the backdrop to a perfect family moment.

“Look at us,” Lando said between laughs, his hair soaked and his face flushed with happiness. “We’re all drenched and I couldn’t be happier.”

You caught Noah as he tried to leap into a particularly big puddle, lifting him up and holding him close. His wet hair clung to his forehead, but his smile never faded.

“This is the best thing ever!” Noah giggled, kicking his feet playfully.

“You sure know how to make a rainy day perfect, don’t you, bud?” Lando said, holding you close as you both watched your son’s joyful antics.

“Just rain,” you said softly, your gaze meeting Lando’s. The chaos of the day had faded into the background. What mattered now was here — this moment, with Lando and Noah, playing and laughing in the rain.

Lando pressed a soft kiss to your forehead, his lips lingering there just a moment longer. “It’s just rain,” he whispered, and for the first time today, you didn’t mind the rain at all.

[feelkindadizzy]

ID from ALT :

Digital canvas titled "How to: drawing characters with paralysis on their face" with "since I barely see it and would like to see more" written underneath. It features three colored drawings of different characters with various kinds of facial paralysis, labeled "ones that look more like this", next to a drawing of a heavily exaggerated character with cartoonish facial paralysis labeled "and less like whatever this is". There is a diagram in the corner of all the cranial nerves in the brain, with half of them scribbled out. The rest of them are labeled "i.e. what happens when any of these get fucked up". In the corner there is the artist's signature "@saszor" as well as "by: someone who has it" written out.

Second digital slide. It's titled "basic information". Underneath is a spectrum colored from dark green to red, with the dark green end labeled "works perfectly" and the red "complete paralysis". The light green, yellow, orange, and light red middle is labeled as "some degree of paralysis. It's not a 0:1 thing". Below that are 4 very simplistic drawings using the spectrum's colors to show different kinds of paralysis, including Moebius syndrome (complete full face paralysis), trochlear nerve palsy (both eyes being mildly affected), Bell's palsy (half of the face being slightly affected) and "multiple (me)" with the forehead, mouth, and eyes being labeled in different shades. The text around the characters reads "All these people have some kind of paralysis on their face. Before actually drawing a character, you need to pick what part of their face is paralyzed and how much. Having your whole face completely paralyzed is really rare. Weakness on one side of the face is the most common. You probably saw someone with it since it's very common after a stroke". Another block of text in the corner reads "If you have a simpler artstyle, paralysis of the eyes and/or mouth is the easiest to show. Jaw or forehead are more subtle (usually)".

Third slide, titled "Ok, but how do I draw it? (With asymmetry, mainly)". There is a drawing of a man with Bell's palsy, captioned "I will be doing examples showing unilateral (one sided) paralysis to showcase this since it will be easier to show the differences". In the top right are two drawings, one in anime style and other in a western cartoon one. The text box reads "While I encourage to try out multiple options, focus on the features that are more important in your artstyle. Big eyes? Focus on ptosis. Big mouths? Focus on lopsided smiles, etc. Otherwise it can look out of place". The main section of the slide is titled "Upper third of the face". There are simple drawings to accompany the text. It reads "paralysis on the forehead: it looks like one-sided botox essentially. The wrinkles will be weaker or non existent. Paralysis of the eyebrow: moves less. It rests lower than the other eyebrow and can have a crease under. Eyelid paralysis (arguably the most common one): generalyl affects the upper eyelid. It rests lower and has less or no movement". There is a drawing of a pair of eyes, where one is so closed the iris is invisible. Text reads "Note: paralysis very frequently comes with strabismus. Severe ptosis+hypertropia can look like the eye is just white. The iris can be hidden like that". Another text box to another drawing reads "it does get a bit trickier in angles that don't show both sides of the face; IMO focusing on strabismus+eyebrows pointing down is the easiest way to get it across". In the bottom left is a diagram showing different eyes with increasing severities of paralysis. Text reads "As a rule of thumb, more severe paralysis = eyelid rests lower. Here you can see how much of the eye could show".

Fourth slide, titled "Eyes specifically since people tend to put more detail into them than the rest of the face". The "First step" has 2 characters with unaligned eyes, titled "Step 1: give them strabismus (easy)". Below that are examples of eyes with strabismus, captioned "literally just draw the eyes to be unaligned. Inward, outward, up, down, etc.". Step two is titled "Don't make it into the most unfunny joke possible (very hard)". It shows two characters, one having a very exaggerated strabismus and the other having a more realistic one combined with a falling eyelid. The first character is crossed out, and is saying "I'm stupid because I look weird haha (laugh)", while the second character has the checker mark and is saying "I have a personality trait that is not related to having an eye condition". The text below the step 2 reads "Not every person with facial paralysis will have strabismus but a lot do and I never see that in drawings". In the bottom right is a designated square with a character who has significant hypertropia and slightly red eyes. The text reads "rarely, people will be unable to close their eyes rather than the other way around. I meant to put it on the previous slide but I ran out of space".

Fifth slide, titled "mouth and smiling". There is a simple drawing of a man with bell's palsy smiling, there are red lines illustrating how the smile is lopsided and pulls towards the nonparalyzed side. There is another "correct/incorrect" demonstration with the incorrect one, labeled "not how faces work", having their face essentially halved, with one side smiling widely and one actively frowning, and the correct one, labeled "it just pulls to the nonparalyzed side", smiling normally on one side and having a neutral/relaxed expression on the other. The incorrect one has additional text box: "if it looks like the ancient Greek theatre mask, stop. I couldn't do this really downward frown on my paralyzed side even if I wanted to. You need to be able to move your face for that...". At the bottom of the slide are two drawings of the same character smiling; he has bell's palsy in one but not the other, highlighting the differences. The text reads "There are other things that can also be affected but smiling is the main one, especially for drawing. What is not affected are like, jaw muscles. Someone can have problem with that as well but it will be from something else". The rest reads: "A lot of people will overdo smiling so that other people can actually tell they're smiling and essentially do a really wide smile on just one side of the face. So things like gums showing, nose skewing to the side, lower eyelid going up, lip being thinner on the smiling side, etc.". There is a colored disclaimer "also a disclaimer (in case that's not clear): not all people with facial paralysis have it visible on their eyes. I do it here so that you can easily tell which side is supposed to be affected".

Sixth slide, titled "have fun smile emoji". It features a Hindu woman in a powerchair, a Black man walking with a cane, a Brown girl posing, and a white guy looking stern. The first two are captioned "Most people have facial paralysis because of a stroke/traumatic brain injury and a lot will have other disabilities". The girl is captioned "Some people are born like this also. You can draw people with facial differences as pretty people BTW, it's allowed". The last character is drawn with a straight line scar going through his eye. He is captioned "if you're giving your scarred OC #3743 this fuckass scar then at least give them nerve damage like get real LMAO. He would not be fucking ablebodied". While the main drawing doesn't show the character with any sort of paralysis, there's a smaller one where his eyelid and eyebrow are clearly paralyzed. There is another box of text in the corner reading "We are also just normal people and yous on;t have to name your OC with bell's palsy some combination of "half-face" or whatever the fuck".

END ID

[ID in alt]

Tutorial on drawing characters/OCs who have some sort of facial paralysis. It doesn't cover all possible variants because I was using mirror as my main reference lawl

Keep in mind that this is an introductory drawing tutorial and has some generalizations in it, so not every “X is Z” statement will be true for Actual People 👍

Consider supporting me on ko-fi if you find this to be helpful.

[beanietopia]

your boyfriend satoru meant the absolute world to you. he was sweet, always spoiled you, and not to mention a huge fucking nerd.

you’ve always found yourself attracted to the introverted types that looked like they have never even spoken to a girl, and that was your man. the first night you met you let him speak to you about his favorite digivolutions for what seemed like two hours. he was a total social pariah, but you found that endearing about him. no one ever understood how satoru was able to bag a fine girl like you, but there was a secret the both of you kept from everyone else.

satoru was obsessed with porn, and he wanted to try everything he learned on you.

it didn’t help that satoru was also a bit of an attention whore at the same time, his twitter account having amassed hundreds of thousands of followers from the content he posted on there. at first he started by just reposting porn he found on the timeline, and before you two became a thing he tweeted the filthiest things he wanted to do to and with his future girlfriend. how lucky he was to have you fall in his lap soon after that! you instilled a confidence in him that he didn’t have before meeting you, and once you learned about his twitter you actually encouraged him to post more. aren’t you such an angel?

sex with satoru was always exciting. he knew how to switch things up in the bedroom, all thanks to his “gooner” fanbase, he likes to call them. he had to practically beg you to start filming whenever you two fucked, and how could you say no when he was whining your name so desperately like that? to satoru, fucking you was like breathing in air—he had to do it or he’d die. you couldn’t even worry about his phone recording the two of you, you were all too focused on the crown of white hair that was now nestled in between your legs.

satoru was obsessed with eating you out. he told you one of his favorite categories of porn to watch was men eating pussy, and he wanted to show you what he learned. this man had your legs folded up to your chest as he devoured you, his tongue lapping up your juices while trying not to lose himself too soon. “taste s’good baby..” he moans, chuckling to himself as you fight to squirm away from his hold. sometimes his glasses would slide down too much and he’d just throw them somewhere, which he always ended up regretting later. “you’re not going anywhere,” he warns once he comes up for air, spitting directly on to your pussy before sucking your clit between his lips. he got so messy with it, too. spreading his saliva all over your inner thighs as he made out with your lips, gently tugging them between his teeth. he could spend the whole day kissing every crevice of your body. well, almost the entire day. he still had to play digimon. 

and there’s nothing more that satoru wants than for you to cum on his tongue. after all the work he put in to make you see stars, why would he let the bedsheets get rewarded for all his hard work? he needs to literally be shoved off your pussy to get him to stop, which gets you met with his pouty lips and petulant stare. 

remember how you forgot that he was recording? right, now he’s showing you the video while already thinking of the caption he’d post along with it to his twitter account. of course you two went viral, being shared and reloaded by hundreds of porn accounts on the site. since then, your pervy boyfriend’s been asking you to record more of your intimate moments. 

you’re no better than him, though. you keep saying yes.

can you BELIEVE it guys 2 posts in one weekend i'm really hitting my stride.. anyways to that one anon who wanted me to make porn!addicted jjk to a series YOU WIN.. until i get another idea to write for .. also should i make a taglist idk how to go about that but anyway i got work soon beanie out xoxo

@gojoscinnamonroll @webism @yemmuis @xxsapphirescrollsxx

[ladssoftie]

Sylus! x Fem! Reader | Baby Fever | nsfw | 18+ | mentions of pregnancy and making a baby | Sylus wants to be a daddy (in more ways than one) | married au! | nipple play | fingering | breast play

Sylus has always wanted to be a father and when he meets you he never expected you would want the same thing as him. Most couples want to not worry about kids but focus on their careers, which he has no issues with, but Sylus desperately wants to have a family of his own. He’s dreamed of being a dad for as long as he could remember.

Being married to Sylus means him wanting to start a family with you. Every month for the past year, he’s been begging you to start a family together. Today is the day that you give him what he so desperately wants.

Text Messages

Y/N: “I want to have a baby with you, sweetheart.”

Sylus: “Really?”

Y/N: “Yes, my love. I’ve been thinking about having kids for a while now. And I want to start a family with you. I think we’re ready to take that next step.”

Sylus: “Stay right there, babe. I’m on my way home. 😘”

End of Texts

Sylus arrived home in a half hours time eager and ready to see you. “I’m home, babe!” He called out. “I’m in here, love!” You called out from your bedroom. Sylus made his way over to the bedroom and opened the door to see you laying on the bed dressed in a cute, red and black, lace nightgown. It landed just above your knees and looked delectable on you. Sylus wanted to rip it off you as soon as he saw you in it. But tonight he would take his time with you, making sure you felt comfortable. You had also slipped on some lace black thigh high stockings and sprayed some of Sylus’s favorite perfume on yourself. This of course, made him feral.

Sylus slinked over to your side with ease his eyes never leaving yours. “You look absolutely stunning, sweetheart.” He purred into your ear, as he took you into his arms. He began to kiss you tenderly up and down your neck and towards your chest. A soft moan escaped your lips as he continued to light your body on fire with his kisses.

Sylus gently laid you onto the bed and parted your thighs with his hand. “Look at you so ready for me. I can tell by the way that you’ve been acting.” Sylus said, sliding off your thigh highs and kissing a trail up each of your thighs as he removed them. He cast them to the side and slowly slipped a hand up your lace nightgown. “Mm…not wearing any panties, love? You want me to put a baby in you that badly?” You mewled as he slipped a finger into your slick and pumped a second one in with ease preparing you for him.

Sylus moved down to pop one of your bared nipples into his mouth, swirling his tongue around the sensitive nub. You let out a loud moan and fisted your hand into his white locks. He groaned and palmed your other breast while tending to your nipple. “Look at your gorgeous boobs. Just imagine them full and ready for our baby someday. I can’t wait for that day, love.” Sylus sucked harder on your nipple and moved his hand between your thighs to finger you a couple more times before moving towards your entrance. Sylus slipped out of his black boxers, his member erect and ready to slide into your entrance. You let out a moan as Sylus positioned himself at your core and gripped your hands in his before sliding himself inside your core.

You let out a whine as Sylus stretched you out with his girth and started to move slowly inside you. “‘Mm. Feels so good, Sylus. Don’t stop babe. Please don’t stop.” You moaned as he continued to thrust inside your fleshy core. “I can’t wait till you’re so full with my cum that you’re about to burst. I need to keep all of it inside you so that you can have our babies.” Sylus thrusted into you again and again, eager to fill you with his cum. He loved you so much and wanted to make sure that you were ready to carry his…your babies.

Sylus felt you clamp down and tighten down on his member. You pulled him in further as he thrusted deeper inside you, feeling him pulse inside you. “Ah…ah…I’m going to cum inside you, princess. Fill you up nice and full…” Sylus breathed against your lips as he captured them in a kiss. You moaned and arched your back against him, feeling him even deeper inside you. You pulled him in even closer as you felt him move even faster. “Cum inside me. Please daddy, make me a mommy. I want nothing more.” You cried out as tears spilled down your cheeks. “Ah…ah…ah! I’m cumming!” Sylus came inside you, his cum coming out in thick ropes spilling inside your warm body. You moaned out as you came with him, clamping him down even tighter not allowing one drop of his precious cum to spill out of you. He kissed you up and down your body as he held you close, his breathing pained and his voice filled with exhaustion.

“I love you so much, my love. I can’t wait till I can become the daddy of our little ones someday. I want nothing more.” Sylus said softly as he continued to hold you close. He gave you a couple more pecks on the cheek and forehead before lying down next to you. His body slick with sweat and the scent of lovemaking heavy in the air.

“I love you too, Sylus. I can’t wait till you can become the amazing daddy that I know you will be.”

[ds-angel1]

cw: SMUT(18+), fingersucking, dryhumping, public sex, its all in public actually, reader is called dumb and a bimbo and stuff like that

a/n: started this while watching the australian grand prix but I fell asleep as soon as it ended so I forgot most of what i wanted to write :(

Rafe hates it when people talk about him or his family. Despises it. So when he hears whispers and catches sight of stares, he doesn’t just ignore them, he makes damn sure to give them something really worth talking about.

At the country club, seated beside you, he picks up on the hushed murmurs about his father, the sneering glances from a couple of stuck-up snobs. Without hesitation, he slides two fingers past your lips, his voice low and commanding, "Suck." Just like that, the gossip shifts, no one's whispering about Ward Cameron anymore. They're too busy gawking at what his clueless little girlfriend is doing, right there, in public, obedient and utterly unaware.

At the beach, the air is thick with laughter and judgment, they talk about how fucking crazy he is, so he decides to prove them right. Sprawled on a towel, he pulls you into his lap, hands firm on your hips as he guides you to grind against his thigh. The whispers die, eyes widen. Because suddenly, you’re the scandal, you’re the classless spectacle, the shameless little thing moving against him in broad daylight.

And at a house party, oh, no one's thinking about the Cameron name when Rafe’s bimbo of a girlfriend is right there, sinking onto his cock beneath her skirt so damn obviously, eyes fluttering as she whimpers. He meets their stunned stares with a smirk, flashing a lazy, shit-eating grin.

He can´t stop them all from talking. But this way they´re talking about something he´s actually proud of; his dumb little girlfriend and how damn obedient she is.

[slyandthefamilybook]

I hate to be a downer but that wouldn't work. The cost and effort of retrofitting Humvees would outweigh any benefit they would add to the fleet. Which is none

To start with, Humvees entered service in 1985, meaning they're even older than the LLV (which started production at the end of 1987). Any problems the LLVs experience with age (rusting frames, loose rivets, etc.) are likely to be found on Humvees as well. There's a reason there's so many of them just lying around

Secondly, while the LLVs are boxes of hot garbage, they're still consistently the best vehicle to deliver out of. They're right-hand drive, which allows carriers to deliver mail without getting out of the vehicle, and to exit the vehicle curbside instead of directly into traffic. The cargo bay, while not tall enough to stand in, is tall enough to hunch in, which makes loading and unloading a lot easier. The Humvee's interior is comparitively tiny, and trunk space is limited. Also, it's left-hand drive, and there's a massive hump through the center containing the drivetrain, which would have to be climbed over to get to the right side.

Third, the Humvee was designed to be extremely robust. That also means it can be garishly complicated. There are multiple differentials. It uses portal-type axles and inboard brakes. The tires are a non-standard size and are RFT. While these features are nice and would certainly help, they also make things more difficult. They also mean more points of failure. Technicians (hi 👋) would need to be trained on these unusual systems. Specialized tools would have to be ordered. The LLVs, while terrible, are extremely simple, easy to diagnose and fix.

Fourth, emissions. The USPS isn't required to report emissions, but with routes passing through populated areas every day, they are a crucial concern. The Humvee uses 6.2L and 6.5L diesel engines (enormously larger than the LLVs 2.2L and 2.5L). Diesel exhaust causes cancer. Straight up. There are ways to mitigate it (diesel motors use a special exhaust fluid, and California law requires them to operate a "clean idle"). But there's just too much risk to drive them around where people live so frequently

Fifth, and this may be a minor concern but. The Postal Service provides a service to the general public. While it's absurd to make us eat our own operating costs, we do need to run like a business under current conditions. This means enticing people to use the Postal Service over our competitors. Which means putting on a friendly and inviting face. I think you can see where I'm going with this. The Jeeps were one thing: they looked quite different from the military models, and by then Jeeps had become general-purpose utility vehicles for the civilian public. Humvees are just too scary, too threatening. No one wants to see convoys of them rolling through their neighborhood, even if they are carrying Amazon packages

And sixth, the Postal Jeep everyone knows, the DJ-5, wasn't given to the Postal Service by the military. They were already being produced by Kaiser when they were selected in 1968. The DJ-5 had the same right-hand drive and sliding doors as the LLV, making it perfect for mail delivery. The Postal Service did use Willis Jeeps before that, but they weren't designed to carry mail so they sucked

No, the NGDV is the future: purpose-built to deliver the mail, standard systems, electric options, and a friendly face. The only issue is with Oshkosh dropping the ball in their production, because apparently they can't figure out how to build anything that isn't bristling with machine guns

Next time you're around when the mail gets delivered, ask your delivery person if they're understaffed or not.

But don't hold them up too much, they have a lot of work to do.

[multifandomgirl08]

Hey, Little Sister [Mini Verstappen Series]

Dad!Max Verstappen x Mother!Reader (Established Relationship)

Summary: "You wanted this Max. You wanted her."

Warning(s): Christian Horner, Giving birth complications (Not from the Reader's POV)

A/N: Gender reveal idea taken from TikTok. The birthing complications mentions in the chapter is taken from a story that I read on Reddit. You'll notice that I told it from Max's POV as to not make it graphic but what the reader goes through in this chapter is very serious and still shouldn't be taken lightly.

Words: 9.9k

Previous Part → Next Part Mini Verstappen Masterlist

March 27, 2028

It had been a relatively normal Tuesday morning so far, waking up early to feed the kids and then get ready to head into the office today. Y/N had been in the bathroom when a sudden wave of dizziness caused her to grip the sink before covering her mouth with her hand, and ran to empty her stomach into the toilet.

As she kept throwing up her morning coffee she heard footsteps coming from behind her, slowly pulling her hair away from her face, and the feeling of Max’s hand running over her back letting herself slump forward a little more. He stayed with her until she pulled herself away from the toilet, and moved back to the sink to brush her teeth.

“You should stay home.” Max was quick to say.

“I can’t stay home Max, we are having an investor meeting today and I have to be there.” As one of the top earners at the hedge fund that she worked at she couldn’t not show up for today’s meeting. “I’ll drop Nico off at school and go in, after the meeting ends, I’ll come straight home.”

This wasn’t the first time that she had been sick in the last two months, she had gotten a mild cold right before their anniversary and had been on antibiotics until she had finished off the 10 day prescription.

“Okay, but straight home after you pick up Nico?” He said, almost like he wanted to scold her for even thinking about spending time in the office around other people when she normally worked from home and was only around her co-works once a week unless something important happened.

“Yes, Max. I’ll even call my doctor and schedule something. Okay?” She asked.

Max gave her a nod and kissed her forehead. “You throw up again, I want you to come straight home.” He said. She nodded before moving to put on her makeup for the day, got dressed into a burgundy red blouse, black knee length pencil skirt and 3 inch heels and then made sure that Nico was ready to go.

Y/N and Nico got into her car, and as she was driving him to school she noticed that she didn’t feel nearly as nauseous as when she had woken up that morning.

“Bye Mama.” Nico said, sliding out of his seat with his backpack in his hands.

“Love you Neeks, I’ll pick you up at the end of the day.” Nico gave her a small wave and then closed the door. She waited until she saw him walk inside of the school building and then drove off to work.

The drive to the office that she worked at took another 20 minutes from Nico’s private school. She had pulled into the underground parking and found her normal spot where a plaque read; Specter Bouchaund Capital Employee Parking.

She had stopped her Bentley on the far right next to a few McLaren’s and Ferrari’s that some of her co-workers drove. She pulled her purse and laptop bag with her, locking the car and then took the elevator up to the 20th floor.

She had walked out of the elevator and into the large open concept office. There was a long black reception desk separated by a glass wall with the words Specter Bouchaund Capital in frosted lettering.

Y/N waved at the receptionist who was stationed at the front desk and got a small wave back before a younger woman came up to Y/N with a coffee cup and a small stack of white papers.

“Morning Y/N.” Monique; her assistant had said, giving her the cup. “You already have a few calls this morning. I moved them around so they wouldn't interfere with the meeting.”

“Thank you. Would you also be able to make an appointment with my doctor? I’m not feeling the best and I’m not sure what’s going on.”

“Your OB or your primary?”

Y/N had never considered that her being sick this morning could mean that she was pregnant. She never had morning sickness with any of the boys.

“Let’s start with the OB, if it’s nothing I can call my primary.”

Monique gave her a nod and they walked to the far left side of the floor to Y/N’s office. 

Y/N’s name on the door read;

Y/N Verstappen Junior Portfolio Manager

Y/N sat down her cup and moved her laptop from her bag onto the glass top desk. It was mostly bare aside from a few picture frames, one was of Max with the boys, Nico and Niki on each side of Max and Nik sitting on Max’s lap. The one next to it was one of her and Max at their wedding with Nico standing in front of them.

There was a knock on her office door. Y/N looked up to Monique standing there, “The shareholder meeting is starting in 10 minutes. If you’re not early-”

Monique didn’t need to finish her sentence. She already knew what she was going to say. “Steven is going to yell that time is money.”

Steven was Y/N’s boss, a Portfolio Manager and her direct superior. He had been in the business for over 20 years and had more money to his name than her and Max combined. It was easy to say that he was good at his job.

Monique gave her a nod. Y/N collected her phone and laptop. She was sure that someone in that meeting was going to ask about market projections for the coming quarter.

The meeting felt like it took forever. Market projections for the next quarter were asked about as well as a new investor who wanted to start working with the company. It lasted a full hour and then she was back in her office looking over something for a client who wanted to put money into a company based in Beijing. She didn’t think it was a smart investment, too much risk for what he wanted and not enough of a reward in the long run.

There was a knock on her office door. She looked up to Monique walking through the door, “So I was able to schedule you for an appointment with your OB today at 1, if that doesn’t work I can call back and see if they have something in the next few weeks.”

Y/N was quick to open the calendar on her phone, she didn’t have a lunch meeting with anyone today.

“Yeah that should work out. Nico gets out at 4 so it’ll give me plenty of time to come back here before I have to pick him up.”

“Okay, I’ll call them back and let them know,” Monique said with a quick nod.

The rest of her morning went by rather slowly, instead of finishing the cup of coffee that had grown cold after her meeting, she had Monique make her a cup of tea and put in some honey hoping to settle her stomach before her appointment.

She had grabbed her bag and was out of the office by 12:20, her usual OBGYN was in Monte Carlo. She had parked her car with the valet, handed over her keys and made her way up to Dr. Casse office. Dr. Casse was the OB that she had while she was in Monaco, she had another OBGYN when she was back in Belgium who got recommended to her by Dr. Casse.

She walked into Dr. Casse’s office and greeted the receptionist, signing in and then took a seat in the waiting room. She saw a few other people scattered around in chairs around the room, before hearing a chipper voice call, “Y/N Verstappen?”

She stood up, and followed the nurse in the pink scrubs back into one of the exam rooms. She left her to change out of her clothes and into the thin sheet that made up the gown. She couldn’t help but curl her toes in against the cold tile flooring of the exam room.

The room was a little cold as she sat back on the exam table. “Y/N?” Dr. Casse said.

“Yes,” she answered.

“It’s been a while since you’ve been in my office. How are the boys?”

“Doing well, Nikita’s finally learning that he can out run Max if he tries hard enough.”

“Ah yeah, he must be getting so big.”

“He looks more and more like Max every day.”

“I bet.” The doctor moved to sit back in the chair by the window with Y/N’s file in her hands. “So, not here for a check up, I assume.”

“I’m not really sure. I threw up this morning, and felt a little dizzy beforehand.”

“Have you been taking your birth control? We wouldn’t want what happened with Nikita to happen again.”

She had still been on birth control when she found out that she was pregnant with Nikita. It had also been the first time that she had been in Dr. Casse’s office. Dr. Casse had immediately taken her off the birth control, put her on prenatal supplements, and then had her schedule another appointment for the following week after the ultrasound. Niki looked healthy for 6 weeks along. It was starting to really dawn on her that she could be pregnant again.

“I was, but I was sick at the end of January.”

“Did they have you on medication?” The doctor asked checking her file.

“Yeah, a 10 day prescription.”

“There is a chance that it threw off your birth control. We’ll do an ultrasound and then if nothing comes up we’ll run a blood test after.” The folder was placed down by the sink in the room.

Y/N nodded back at the doctor before the ultrasound machine was rolled over towards her. Cold gel was placed on her abdomen and then Dr. Casse pressed the wand into her skin going to look for the signs of a baby growing in her belly for the third time.

It took a few moments before something showed up on the screen and the sound of a fast watch like tick came from the machine.

“And there it is...” Dr. Casse said. “The fetus looks healthy, and based on this I would say that you're around 8 weeks along. Making you due late November. If we’re lucky the next time that you're in here we can find out the gender.”

All she could do was look at the screen and count back the weeks. Her and Max had conceived a child on their anniversary. There was another child that she and Max had created, together. They hadn’t been trying for another baby, her and Max had talked about waiting the suggested 16 months this time around after Nik was born, but they still wanted the kids to be close in age. She never thought she would get pregnant this fast, again.

Y/N had thanked the doctor, and she had left to get her the sonogram pictures so she could share them with Max. Y/N was given a towel to wipe off the gel and was given a couple minutes to put her work clothes back on. She sat in the chair that Dr. Casse had occupied a few minutes ago, taking in a few deep breaths. This isn’t what I was expecting, she thought. It wasn’t that she was unhappy with the news… It’s just a lot right now. She forced her eyes open a little, took another deep breath before walking out of the exam room. She had been handed the small stack of photos and then made another appointment for 4 weeks later.

From there she walked back to the parking lot and sat in her car for a few moments just taking it in. Her hand somehow had dropped to her abdomen and she wanted to call Max right away and tell him the news. It was hard going back to work after that. Sitting in her office, being on the phone with a few of the traders that worked in the building with her. 4 o’clock couldn’t come fast enough before she was out of her office and into her car to pick up Nico from school.

She had pulled up to the school when she saw Nico leave the building his classroom was in. His backpack moved sloppily with his before he was in the car. “Hi, Mama!” He said slightly out of breath.

“Hey, Neeks. How was school?” Hearing the backseat door close.

Nico went on a rant about his day, talking about what he had learned in his classes and that if he kept doing well the rest of the year, he would be able to take on a second language class next school year. Nico’s teacher, Ms. Sazarrin said that he was ahead of the class and for a child that didn’t grow up speaking any French was taking to it like a fish to water.

“And what did you learn today? Anything that would surprise Uncle Charles?”

“No, not yet. We got to read through a menu in class. Escargot sounds gross.” Nico said with a disgusted look reaching his face.

“Yeah it does. Do you know what Escargot is?” Y/N asked, pulling away from the school.

“Snails. But I didn’t like the sound of Ratatouille when I thought it was made of rats.”

“No, I didn’t think you would. How did you feel when you found out that it’s made of vegetables?”

“Better, rat sounds gross to eat.” She agreed with Nico. Rat didn't sound appetizing. The idea made her start to feel a little queasy, damn the pregnancy hormones.

“I’m working from home tomorrow so if you want to try it, we can.” She said, swallowing down the need to puke.

“Really?” He asked, perking up in his seat.

“Yeah, we can even watch the movie that is named after the dish.”

“But doesn’t Nik need to go to bed early?”

“Not too early, I’ll make dinner a little early so we can stay up to watch it. And then when it’s over Papa and I will put Niki and Nik to bed.” She was happy that the younger kids were sleeping through the night. Sylvie would already have gone home by then so she and Max could spend some time with Nico before he needed to go to bed.

“You promise?” He asked hopefully.

“I promise.” She reached for her phone when they were at a stop light and put in a note in her reminders app to go get vegetables for tomorrow.

They eventually pulled up to the house, Nico moving out of the backseat with his backpack in his hand while she left her laptop bag in the car, instead taking her purse and digging out her keys so they could get into the house. There was sound coming from the living room with the TV on, the sound of what had to be Dutch cartoons playing in the background.

“Hi Papa!” Nico greeted Max dropping his bag under the console where she had placed her keys. Nik let out an audible scream as she walked closer to where the living room was gated off. She walked closer to the sound and saw Niki standing holding onto Max’s pant leg. He could fully walk by himself but still liked hanging onto Max.

Max reached out and kissed his wife on the cheek and then passed Nik over so he could hug Nico.

“How was school?” Max asked while opening the baby gate.

“Good, Ms. Sazarrin had us read a menu in French during class,” Nico started to explain to Max while Y/N went to sit on the couch and read to the younger boys. She had slipped her heels off and curled her toes in pleasure, the leather of her shoes no longer restricting her toes.

In some ways she couldn’t think about wanting anything more than what she already had, she was happy just being a mom to the boys but she also knew how much Max wanted a daughter. Maybe her being pregnant this time would finally give Max that.

Her eyes went up from the book that she was reading to Nik who found more joy in just turning the pages than her actually reading it when her eyes met Max’s.

“How are you feeling?” He had asked. Nico had run off to the cabinet where his coloring books were.

“Better than this morning, I have some news. Don’t want to tell the kids yet.”

Max looked at her a little concerned.

“It’s nothing bad Max, I promise.”

“Are you sure?” He asked before Nik shoved one of his plastic toys into Max’s face. Max was quick to move his face so he wouldn’t get hit.

“Nik,” She said. “Don’t hurt Papa.”

Nik looked up at her and then over to Max before scooting on the blue area rug away from them and then stuck his hand in the open box of toys.

“I’m fine Max, I’m not dying.” Just pregnant, she thought.

“Which doctor did you go see? The primary or-”There was a small crash, and pieces of Lego scattered on the floor. Nik started picking up the large Lego’s that had fallen all over the floor, getting the fallen Lego’s out from under the couch was going to be annoying.

“My OBGYN, she says everything is fine. She’s putting me on some vitamin supplements, and I can pick them up within the week.”

“Vitamin supplements,” Max said with a small pause. “But the only time you are on those is when-” He cut himself off.

Max took a look at her, a long good look. And then she saw his eyes go a little wide. “But you haven’t had, not with…”

Max sounded just as shocked as she felt right now. She didn’t need to say the word pregnant for him to know that she was. He seemed to know her body well enough to not have to say anything else.

“You can say it Max, morning sickness.”

“What’s morning sickness?” Nico asked as he looked up from his coloring book.

“Mommy wasn’t feeling good this morning.” She answered. "So my tummy was upset."

“Are you sick Mama?”

“No Nico, I’m not sick.”

Neither her or Max say anything else about it until the kids have all gone to bed. Niki and Nik are in their shared room fast asleep and Nico is in his room with Sassy asleep on the other pillow at the edge of his bed with Jimmy lounging in the cat tree in the corner of Nico's room.

Max went into his "office" after they had put Nico to bed. She walks to the next room over from Nico's room to see Max sitting in his sim rig but the computer screen is turned off and his legs are up in his seat. She'll never understand how he can find laying in there comfortable.

She pulls up the rolling desk chair up to him as he's just scrolling on his phone. She slightly peaks over his shoulder to see him looking at a picture of what looks like her sonogram picture from earlier in the day.

"Dr. Casse sent this to my email. Congratulations Max! It said." He leans his head further back to look at her.

She so badly wants to tell him that she thinks that they're having a girl this time. This pregnancy feels different even if she is only eight weeks along.

"Do you think it's a girl?" He slowly asks as if he's afraid she'll say no.

"Yeah Max, I think it is."

He reaches for her and presses a kiss to her forehead. She knows how much Max wants a daughter, and although her body has no say in that, it's a little reassuring to know that her body is giving her signs early on that this may very well be happening.

"Just don't get upset if it isn't." She tells him. She doesn't want to get his hopes up if it turns out to be another boy.

He doesn't say anything to that because they both know it'll be a lie. He moves out of the chair and takes her hand so they can walk out of the room together.

Max helps her out of her pencil skirt by undoing the zipper, the black fabric falls from her body. She moved to pull off the red blouse, and then remembers that she left her shoes by the couch when she came home. Oh well, she can put them back in her closet in the morning. She collects her clothes and puts them in the hamper in her closet and instead of reaching for a pair of sweats she goes to Max's closet and pulls out one of his t-shirts to sleep in.

When she steps out of the closet Max is sitting on the edge of the bed turning his wedding band around his finger. She steps closer to him and then moves her fingers into his hair. He drops his hands and then presses his head into her abdomen.

"I know we used to joke that we couldn't control what gender the baby was but I really want this. I want a little girl that looks like you running around the house, I want to paint a bedroom pink with my own two hands. I want…" He trails off dropping his arms around her thighs, pulling her in closer.

For all the children that they have, to Max; their family wasn't complete without them having a daughter.

"If we're lucky we'll be able to find out if it's a girl by my next appointment." She muttered.

“Which is in?” He pulled away slightly.

“Four weeks, but it could be a little longer.” Max gave her a nod and then pulled her into bed with him.

"I don't care if I have to miss races or something else, I'm going to be there when we find out what we're having." Max promised as he buried his face into her neck. She's going to hold him to it.

June 26, 2028

Today her and Max were going to her 20 week appointment.

The boys would be with Sylvie while her and Max were at the doctor and Max had made reservations for them to go to lunch afterwards, just the two of them. The last time her and Max went to her last appointment the baby wasn’t in the right position to see the gender, Max had been disappointed that he would have to wait a little longer to find out what they were having.

So Max was going to go with her again today to see if they could finally see the gender.

“I can drive.” She offered taking the keys as they walked to Max’s black Audi.

He just pulled them from her fingers and then opened the passenger side door waiting for her to get in. She gave him a smile and then stepped inside of the car.

The drive over to Dr. Casse’s office was quiet, there was the local pop station playing on the radio before pulling up to the building where the doctor’s office was.

Her and Max sat in the car for a few minutes, “We can wait to find out next time.” She said.

Max just shook his head no. “I have something planned for us after. When the doctor asks, we’ll just have them put the results in an envelope. I want to wait until we get home to find out.”

She nodded at Max. He was obviously more nervous about this than she was.

They had gone up to Dr. Casse’s office and waited to be called into the exam room. The nurse called them back into one of the exam rooms and then took Y/N’s blood pressure, and a few other basic tests to make sure that she was healthy.

“She’ll be right in.” The nurse said. “She’s just finishing up with another patient.”

She gave the nurse a nod, and then felt Max reach for her hand after the nurse stepped out of the room. For someone who could handle high pressure situations while he was at work, Y/N could tell how nervous Max was right now.

She gave his hand a firm squeeze back before the petite blonde doctor entered the room looking at both of them.

The doctor ran over a few things, said that her vitals look good and was in the clear for a lot of the risks that could occur in the early stages of being pregnant.

“You're still only in your second trimester but your tests appear normal so as of right now, I have no concerns, just keep to your vitamins, and keep off the caffeine."

Y/N nodded at the doctor and Max’s grip on her hand loosened a little bit.

“Now, ready to see if we can find out the gender today?”

Both her and Max nodded.

Dr. Casse wheeled over the ultrasound machine. “Now have you guys decided how you want to find out? Piece of paper, me just telling you?”

“The paper, we want to be home when we find out.”

The doctor nodded and placed some of the cool gel on the wand. Y/N did her best to not flinch from the cold feeling.

“Everything is looking good in there. I would say that the baby is about the size of a banana right now, and I can see the gender so I’ll write it down for you and put it in an envelope so you can find out when you get home.”

Max’s shoulders seemed to drop a little at the doctor's words.

“Do you want a few updated sonogram pictures?” Both her and Max nodded.

From there the doctor gave Y/N a towel to wipe off the gel and let her get re-dressed.

“Are you still up for food?” Max asked.

“Yeah,” Y/N’s nerves about the baby’s gender hadn’t gone down but Max seemed a little more calm so she knew that she could eat something.

“I made reservations at Miramar Plage, it’s a bit of a drive.”

“It’s perfect Max,” Miramar Plage was where she and Max went on a date the first time that she flew out to Monaco to see him. It was right on the beach and they had a great menu from what she could remember.

“I was thinking about maybe walking into a store or two, pick out something for the baby.” He said as she moved to put her dress and shoes back on. She tried to slide her feet in but couldn’t do up the straps so Max went down on his knees and did them up for her.

“Yeah we can, I can message Renaldo and maybe we can get something from baby Dior. I still need to send Daniel’s wife a gift since we couldn’t go to her baby shower.” Renaldo was the sales associate that worked at the Dior store in Cannes. They normally had a better selection of pieces during the summer months than at the store in Monaco.

“You’ll pick something nice that I’m sure they will love.” Daniel and his wife just had a son a few months ago and they couldn’t come to the baby shower because Niki had gotten a nasty cold that they didn’t want to spread to anyone else.

The doctor handed over the white envelope and let them know that the pictures were also inside.

From there she and Max made the 1 hour drive to Miramar Plage in Cannes. Y/N had messaged Renaldo through WhatsApp and let him know that she would be coming into the store today to look at some baby clothes.

He texted her back with a thumbs up emoji and a see you when you get here.

So she and Max went to lunch, Max had steak and she had eggplant pasta.

“This is the last one?” Max asked her after finishing the last bite of his steak.

She immediately looked down at her growing bump. “Yeah, I think this is that last one.”

Four kids in 8 years was enough.

“Now, why do you want to drag me shopping? You hate shopping.”

Max slightly shook his head. “I hate shopping for me, I like shopping for you.”

She just took a sip of her water. Max always did a good job when it came to shopping for her. All she had to do was look down at her engagement ring for the proof.

“Is that why we’re going to Dior? So you can pick something out for me?” She asked.

Max gave her a shrug and then caught the waiter's attention to ask for the check.

They were back in the car in the next half-an hour. Max had re-parked the car so they could end up walking into the stores along the Bd de la Croisette. They eventually made it into Dior after Max started to complain that his feet were hurting after she had him walk into a few other stores.

She let Max find a seat, and they were immediately offered water and some snakes before Y/N saw Renaldo come out of the back room. She gave the Spaniard sales associate a wave.

“I’ll be back.” she said to Max, noticing that he took the white envelope with the gender results out of her purse and stuffed them into the back pocket of his jeans.

She walked over to the section of the store where they had all of the baby Dior clothes for boys. She saw a pair of toddler size sneakers and a little zip up hoodie that she thought would be perfect for Daniel’s son David.

She wandered around the store for a few more minutes looking at the new limited edition Lady Dior bags that they had before going back to Max with the items that she had picked out for David.

Renaldo had just walked away from where Max had been sitting to see him now at the counter looking at the women’s accessories.

“Find anything?” She said walking up to him.

Max turned to look at her. “Yes, but it’s a surprise when we get home.”

What could Max’s surprise be? They still hadn’t opened the gender results for the baby.

Renaldo came back out of the back room with a white box that had a Dior ribbon around it. What did Max just spend money on? She thought.

“Pink if it’s a girl and blue if it’s a boy.” The sales associate said to them both. He was buying her a bag to find out the gender of the baby.

Max paid for her mystery bag and the clothes for David before they were back in the car on the way home. The 1 hour drive back to the house seemed to go by rather fast. They were pulling up to the driveway and the warm Monaco air seemed to finally hit her when they were walking inside of the house. Max had the bags in his hands.

The house was quiet, the only sound being the low hum of the air conditioner.

They looked into the living room to see toys spread over the large couch and the doors open to the backyard. Nico was running around kicking his soccer ball while it looked like Niki was trying and failing to chase after his older brother. Sylvie was sitting on her phone while it looked like Nik was taking a nap on the couch next to her.

Y/N walked out into the backyard and sat on the couch next to Nik. Sylvie looked up from her phone and then to her.

“How was your appointment?” She asked.

“It was good.” Y/N replied.

Max had come out a few moments later, changed out of his jeans into athletic shorts and walked towards Nico and Niki to play with them for a bit.

“Did you find out if it is a boy or a girl?”

“Not yet. Max took me to Dior to pick out a few things, and set it up so the color of the bag he got me matches the gender of the baby.”

“Aww that is very sweet.”

They had all stayed outside for a while longer before Nico started to complain that he was hungry. Max had carried Nik inside while Sylvie had taken the toys back inside and Y/N started making an early dinner.

“Are you staying for dinner Sylvie?” Y/N asked.

“No, I have plans with Pierre. He’s taking me out but let me know when you open up the box.”

“Of course.”

“Just don’t tell Pierre, there is a bet about the gender on the grid group chat.” Max replied before Sylvie reached for her bag and said goodbye to the kids.

“Does that mean that if I get a sister, her room is going to be where Papa’s office is?” Nico asked, watching as Y/N made dinner.

“Well, Nico. Probably not.” Y/N said before Max took over speaking.

“Your Mama and I were thinking that we would move all your furniture into the room that Oma stays in when she visits and the new baby could have your room.”

“But Oma’s room is so much bigger than mine and it’s not even on the same floor.”

“You are the oldest Nico, and the new baby will have to sleep on the same floor as Papa and I, we can’t just leave the baby anywhere.” Y/N was hoping that her and Max didn’t need to tell him that he was getting bigger and it may be a good idea for him to have a little more independence around the house. He was good about making his own bed, cleaning up after the cats, and playing with his brothers without being rough with them. He had earned it.

“Can I get a new bed, or a hot wheels track on my walls like Greyson Archibald?” Nico started to ask while bring up one of the kids in his class.

“We’ll see. Papa and I still have to pay off the yacht, and we’re also building the guest house so Auntie Vic and Uncle Tom can stay when they visit.” Her and Max had a lot of money put into projects around the house.

“Okay,” Nico slowly said, “But can I at least choose the paint in my room. I don’t like the light blue anymore.”

“Sure!” Max answered before looking over at Y/N. What had they just done?

Everything was winding down for them. Nico was planning to watch a movie with Niki, they got into a fight about which one to watch.

“Woody!” Niki yelled, shoving the plush toy into his older brother's face.

“Nuhu, Star Wars. I want to see Luke take on Darth Vader!”

“Nico, can you let him watch Toy Story? He needs to go to bed before you.” Y/N asked.

“But Papa and I are watching them together.”

“I know, but he’ll fall asleep faster if you let him watch.” She looked at Niki and he was already rubbing his eyes. “After that you and Papa can watch Star Wars.”

Nico eventually relented. The kids were watching the movie and her and Max went into the kitchen to open the box that they had gotten at Dior.

“I think you should open it.” She said moving the box closer to Max.

“No, mijn leeuwin. It’s for you. You should open it.” He said moving the box closer to her.

Y/N moved to pull the ribbon from the box and saw a note on a white card,

Congratulations on your exciting news y/n!

- Love, The Dior Cannes Team

She let the ribbon fall away from the box and then opened it, the crisp white tissue paper against her fingers. She undid the sticker that held the tissue paper together and then started to move it away from the white dust bag in the box.

She moved her hand into the white bag and started to pull the handbag out when she saw the edge of a twilly peaking out in pastel purple and… pink. She lifted the bag out further to see a pink Lady Dior bag with its gold hardware giving off a nice shimmer in the low lighting of the kitchen.

“Max,” Is all she can say before he’s pulling her in closer to him. His lips are on hers within a few seconds and it feels like he’s trying to devour her. His hands on her hips and brushing over her hair.

“Thank you,” She hears him say when he starts to pull away from her. His hands go to her abdomen running over the growing bump. She moves her arms around his neck and presses a few quick kisses to his lips.

She shakes her head at his words. She didn’t do anything, this was all him. “You wanted this Max. You wanted her.”

She looks at him to see a few tears spilling from his eyes. He moves his head onto her shoulder.

“I did, I wanted our little girl.” He muttered into her hair.

Y/N let her own tears start to fall, she had been so concerned that if they didn’t have a girl Max would react horribly. But know that she knows they’re having a girl. She’s letting herself finally be happy with the result.

She pulls away from him just a bit and starts to laugh. “Be ready to have a lot more pink in your life.”

He lets out a quick breath, “Well, I did ask for this.” with a small shrug of his shoulders. She nods back at him and then he kisses her cheek with his hands settling on her hips.

She knows that they have more to talk about. Like a name, and who the baby’s god parents are going to be, maybe it’s time to fulfill Lando’s wish of being a god parent. But for now she’ll enjoy the moment.

Her and Max leave the unpacked box and bag on the counter and join their other children in the living room.

“Star Wars!” Nico yells as her and Max move to sit on the couch.

She knows that their family will be complete by the end of the year, she can feel it.

November 19 - 20, 2028

“Grandma GG!” Nico said, running up to Geri as her and Christian walked through the door of the house.

“Nico,” She greeted the boy, opening her arms for him. She hugged him and her eyes darted around the room for the other two boys that were in the house.

Geri had let Nico go and then he ran to Christian for a hug. “I missed you Grandpa.”

Christian gave Nico a hug back. “Missed you too,” Christian said even though he had seen Nico a couple weeks ago.

“Where are the other kids?” The redhead had asked you.

You had led Geri into the living room to see Niki playing with a set of building blocks, and Nik was taking a nap in his swing.

“Oh Y/N, they’re precious. Can’t believe that you're pregnant with one more.” She said taking a seat on the couch that was pressed against the windows.

“The last one,” After finding out that you and Max were having a girl, you had both agreed that four kids was enough.

“You excited to have a girl?” “A bit, Max seems more excited than me.”

“When are you due again?”

“Next week on Wednesday. The last race is on Sunday, three days after.”

“You guys always cut it close when the season ends or breaks happen.” Y/N was always grateful that her pregnancies seemed to find an off way of aligning with Max’s schedule somehow.

“I feel bad taking him away from you, Y/N.” Christian said, taking a seat on the couch. “Can always tell Max to stay home and we can call up one of the other drivers from the junior team? I’m sure Yuki wouldn’t mind having a go in Max’s car for the weekend.”

“Leave my wife out of this Christian, she’s too close to her due date.” Max said, handing Christain a beer.

“I’m just saying, in case something happens. We’ve already won another Constructors, I am more than happy for Oscar to take the Drivers Championship this year.”

It was odd to hear Christian be so content with Max not possibly winning this year's drivers championship.

“And let Red Bull’s arch nemesis Zac Brown win? Surprising,” Y/N said with a laugh.

“Well, we’ll see what happens.” It was only after 2024 that the McLaren and Red Bull rivalry on track started to heat up. Max was still friends with Oscar and Lando when there weren’t races going on.

“Grandpa, can you play cars with me?” Nico asked, holding out a little red Aston Martin.

“Sure, but just until your Mum has dinner ready.” Christian replied before following Nico into his “new” bedroom.

“Oh Y/N, can I see the baby's room now that it’s complete? I know you’ve sent me some pictures.”

“Yes, mijn leeuwin, you should show her,” Max suggested. Y/N knew how proud Max was of painting the walls and putting all of the furniture together by himself before the baby got here. “I can watch Nik and then take the food out when it deeps.”

Geri helped Y/N down the stairs before walking into the baby’s room.

Y/N moved to sit in the rocking chair that had been moved out of Niki and Nik’s room into here after Max had finished painting the walls a light pastel pink that went with the white furniture.

“I miss this stuff from when Bluebell was little,” Geri said, holding up a small pair of baby Christian Louboutin’s that had been gifted to them from one of Y/N’s colleges.

“You should have seen some of the things Max and I returned a few months ago.”

“Anything crazy?” Geri asked, straightening the blanket that was hung over the side of the crib.

“One of the traders that works on the same floor as me got us a fine china set from Hermés for her. That was an immediate return,” She knew all too well that it would be cute to have but would never get used and if it was would need to be hand washed.

“What? What do they think you're going to use that for?” Geri asked.

“No idea,” Y/N said with a laugh and then laid her hand over her bump to feel a kick from the baby.

“Max did a really good job in here. I can tell how excited he is.” Y/N took another look around the room to all of the baby clothes hung in the closet, the plush pink horse in the crib. Max took so much pride in the time that he got to spend here getting it ready for their daughter.

“Yeah, he’s really excited. I think he’s really thinking about not going to the race in case I go into labor early.”

Geri gave her a small hug. “These things happen when they need to. Don’t stress about it without a reason.”

Her and Geri walked back upstairs to Max pulling the lasagna out of the oven and setting it on the dining room table.

“Boys, food is ready!” Max yelled into the living room.

Nico and Niki came walking in. Christian was holding Nik who was sleepily rubbing at his eyes.

“Mama,” Niki said, reaching for her. “Want to sit with Papa.”

She helped Niki over to the table and settled him so he could sit in one of the chairs by himself. Everyone was starting to sit down while Max moved to get Nik’s food out of the fridge, it was pureed squash.

Nico and Niki were eating through the lasagna, Max would blow on a piece of the lasagna for Niki however more of it just ended up on his shirt then in his mouth. 

Geri had offered to go and change Niki out of his ruined clothes while Max cleared the table. Christian was showing Nico a video on his phone about the new kid who would be taking the F2 seat for Red Bull this year.

“Do you want coffee or something?” Y/N asked as if she was getting ready to move from her seat.

“I can put the kettle on, don’t worry Y/N” Geri said walking back into the kitchen with Niki already in his pajamas.

Y/N watched as Geri insisted on filling the kettle with water and set it to boil.

Max and Christian had disappeared downstairs and Geri had gone to the restroom. The kettle finally sang when it was boiling hot, Y/N had slowly moved from her chair and turned the stove off. She left the kettle where it was and reached for the brawer where all of the coffee and tea was.

She had just started to reach into the cabinet above to grab cups as the all too familiar pain filled her abdomen. Braxton Hicks, she knew the drill. She took a few deep breaths and it seemed to fade away.

She was able to get another two mugs down before Geri rejoined her in the kitchen.

“Sweetheart, you doing okay?” She asked as she moved closer to Y/N.

“Braxton Hicks, I’ll be fine.” Y/N replied, trying to shake the feeling off.

Eventually Geri filled her mug with some herbal tea and lemon from the trees in the backyard.

“I know, I just think that the times are off. When I go into the corner, I’m supposed to be able to go flat out and it’s not giving that.” Y/N heard Max telling Christian.

Her and Geri looked at each other and shared a smile.

“Well, I’m sure you’ve told GP.” Christian started to say. “See, so we’ll wait until we're at the track on Friday, I’m sure the team at the factory also saw the numbers and are working on a solution.”

“It just could be better is all I’m saying.”

“I know Max.” Christian said as they re-entered the kitchen.

Y/N had sat down and Niki had moved to rest his head against her thigh. Her and Geri both made it through a cup of tea before sitting up straight wasn’t comfortable anymore. Max was first to offer to help her go to the living room.

“Max, I'm fine.” she said, holding her back and took a few steps forward.

A few minutes later Geri had followed Y/N to the living room to see her standing in a puddle of amniotic fluid. Looks like her water just broke.

“I’ll get Max.” Geri had said after setting the cups down on the closest table.

About half an hour later Christian and Geri were still at the house saying that they would stay the night and put the boys to bed.

“We’ll come by the hospital in the morning,” Christian said as Max went to put Y/N’s bag in the car.

“We appreciate this.” Max said.

“It’s what family does Max. Now go be with your wife, because the moment your daughter is born, it’s going to change your whole world.” Christian patted Max on the back as Geri had helped Y/N into the car.

It was two hours later that they were already at the hospital still waiting to hear from a part of the medical staff and Y/N was squeezing his hand every minute or two.

“You doing okay?” Max asked

She shook her head no.

“Want me to get a nurse? I know they checked you over and they said you’re only a few centimeters dilated-" Max didn’t get to finish his sentence before Y/N let out a loud wimper. Max immediately moved out of his seat towards where the nurses desk was.

“I’ll be right back.” He said and kissed her sweaty forehead.

Max moved up to a nurse, “Hi, my wife is in labor and I was wondering if I could get an update on her epidural?”

The nurse gave him a questioning look before she looked to where Y/N was sitting. “Oh, umm let me go check if the anesthesiologist is ready to give it to her and if they are we’ll get her into a room for delivery prep.”

Max gave her a nod back and then walked back to Y/N.

“So?” She asked, looking up at him.

“They’re waiting for the anesthesiologist.” She nodded at him and then dropped her head to his shoulder.

It took another half an hour before they were ushered into a room and did another check.

“5 centimeters, halfway there. Looks like you’re ready for the epidural.” The anesthesiologist said and moved to reach for a needle. Max kept holding Y/N’s hand and saw her try to stop herself from moving forward from the needle going into her skin.

“Better?” He asked her. She still shook her head no.

“Give it about 10 to 15 minutes, it should start to dissipate." One of the nurses said.

Max kept an eye on his watch and 30 minutes had passed, Y/N had turned onto her side. A nurse had come in a few minutes ago and checked her and found out that she was fully dilated and ready to start pushing.

“Max,” he heard her whimper. She looked at him and reached for his hand. “Get a nurse.”

Max gave her a nod. He let go of her hand despite the fact that he felt like he shouldn’t.

“Can I get some help? My wife seems to be in pain.”

A nurse looked into the room, “Has she been given an epidural?”

“Yes, but she-” He had been cut off.

“Give it a bit more. She could just be experiencing some back pain.”

“It’s been 30 minutes since she got it, and she’s already in labor.”

Two nurses shared a look before one of them reached for a phone and started to talk to someone.

“Ahh!” Max heard coming from Y/N’s room before another nurse walked in to see her holding her stomach. The first thing a nurse did was look at a monitor to see the read out on a machine.

“SHIT!” The nurse said before pressing a button.

It was like a haze had set over Y/N’s room before he heard something that made his stomach drop and feel unbearably heavy.

“The baby’s heart rate is dropping!” He heard being yelled in the room.

WHAT? He thought. Her heart rate was dropping? They needed to do something, NOW!

“Get the father out of here, she needs to deliver now and get the baby out so the heart rate doesn’t drop anymore. Her contractions are putting her body under more stress.”

Max could only stand there before a nurse made him leave the room.

“Mr. Verstappen,” He heard muffled in his ears. “We’re going to do… everything that we can to make sure that they’re both healthy.” The nurse kept talking to him as he heard Y/N still yelling as he was led into the waiting room of the maternity ward.

Max tried his best to nod at the nurse before being left in the waiting room. 

It had been a long 5 hours after Max had been rushed out of Y/N’s delivery room after complaining to one of the nurses that something was wrong with his wife. Something had gone wrong while she had been trying to deliver the baby. The nurse had pulled Max out of the room trying to calm him down while he could hear Y/N in pain.

He had been standing in the hallway of the maternity ward in the light blue scrubs they had given to him, pacing, and occasionally checking his phone.

After 2 hours, he had called his mom asking her not to bring the boys to the hospital yet. He wanted to wait for the doctors to come out and tell him what was going on with his wife. Sophie, however, insisted that she be with him, and let Christian and Geri watch over the boys while she was with her son.

She showed up a few minutes ago and watched as Max wandered the hallway waiting to hear any news.

“Mr. Verstappen.” He heard in his native Dutch.

Max perked his head up to see Y/N’s doctor standing before him in what looked like relatively clean scrubs.

“Yes?”

“I just wanted to let you know that your wife is fine.” The words made Max’s chest deflate letting out a big breath. “While the birth was going on, we found out that the epidural hadn’t worked on her, putting her under stress and making the baby’s heart rate drop. So, your wife had to deliver naturally.”

“They okay?” His mom asked.

Max couldn’t think. There had been a chance that he could have lost you and the baby. He couldn’t imagine it. Not just him losing you but the boys as well.

“Both mother and baby are doing well. We had a small scare, but they’re both healthy. I can take you back to see them.”

Max nodded before following the doctor down the hall. They ended up at a wooden door with a window that peaked into the room. Max could barely make out what you looked like.

“Max.” His mother said. He looked back at her before she gave him a hug to try to calm him down before he walked into the room. His mother spoke into his ear, “Try to remember that she’s okay, they both are.”

Max pulled the handle of the door slowly walking into the room. Y/N was slightly sitting up in bed with a bundle of blankets on her chest. He made slow tentative steps towards the bed, pulling the empty chair to your side so he could sit next to you.

He dropped his head next to your lap and could feel one of your hands start to run through his hair. Max took a few small, fast breaths taking in the sterile smell of detergent and soap on the sheets. He lifted his head up to see her holding a bundle of blankets with a small pink cap peeking out from the bundle.

“You’re so strong.” He stuttered out as he sat by your side. He reached out and laid his hand over yours that covered part of the baby‘s back.

“I wasn’t the first two times?” You joked. He did his best to chuckle along, pushing the fear of losing you away. He felt terrified hearing your screams in the hallway from the pain.

Max couldn’t help but marvel at the bundle of blankets against your chest. Every time that another child of his came into the world it felt surreal.

“Always, mijn leewin. You are always strong.” Moving to rest his head against your shoulder. He would have tried to climb into the hospital bed with you but didn’t want to move the baby in your arms.

“Do you want to hold her?” You asked him. He could see that you were making a move to pass her over.

Max was careful about taking the baby from you. He placed her into the crook of his arm, holding her head up with his hand. He had a daughter.

Max looked up at Sophie to see a tear run down her cheek.

“Finally a girl in the family?” She asked in English. You nodded at her before the sound of a knock came from outside of the door.

It was the doctor here to check on you. She went over the epidural scare that had happened, and said that you were lucky to still have the local anesthesia in your system.

“Your husband did a great job after you told him that you could feel that the epidural wasn’t working. Went straight to a nurse, we caught that your daughter’s heart rate was dropping and everything ran smoothly after. We were able to deliver her with no complications.” Max saw you reach over for his hand. He moved the baby down a bit, and then clasped your hands together. He could feel your wedding band on your finger, and ran one of his fingers over it. He had never been more grateful for the light almost biting feeling of the diamonds pressing into his skin more than he was now.

Max could feel his mother’s eyes on him but said nothing to her. He thanked the doctor for coming in to check on you.

“I’m just happy that you’re both okay.” He said holding the baby closer to his chest. “I was so worried when they told me that her heart rate had dropped.”

Max looked down at their daughter.

“She was worth it Max, all the pain made it worth it.”

Max leaned up and kissed Y/N on the lips muttering a silent Thank You.

“Well, I’ll leave you guys.” The doctor said taking the folder with her. “You have a fighter on your hands.” She motioned to the bundle in Max’s arms.

Max gave the doctor half a smile back. He saw Y/N leaning back into her pillow more with a small smile spreading over her lips.

“Mum?” Max asked. “Want to hold your granddaughter?"

Sophie shifted forward, standing a little straighter and then walked closer to Max.

“I would love to.” She said.

Max moved out of the chair, and then Sophie sat down in it before placing the baby in her waiting arms.

“Halo, schetje.” The little girl had seemed to find a way of moving her hand out of the bundle and Sophie’s hand brushed hers.

Max had been standing on the other side of the bed watching his mother and his daughter before placing his hand on Y/N’s shoulder. He was lucky to be surrounded by such strong women in his life.

“Max,” Y/N said.

“Hmm?” He hummed in question.

“I think you should pick her name.” Max’s eyebrows went up at her words. She wanted him to pick her name.

Max gave himself a few minutes trying to run through all of the possible names and combinations that they discussed, and there was one configuration that he kind of liked.

“Nicole?” He said with a slight question in his voice. “Nicole Victoria Sonja.” He got out a little clearer.

When they had talked about names originally Max had brought up the idea of having her be named after either his sister or his mum. It took looking at Nicole to know that he wanted to name her after both of them but knew that his mother would never accept it. She would say it was too much, so he would give his daughter the closest thing to it.

“I think it’s perfect.” He heard his wife say.

Max gave her a smile and moved to sit on the edge of her bed so he could watch his mother and daughter while holding his wife’s hand. Soon Nicole would be able to meet the rest of her family in her brothers, other grandparents, aunt, uncle and cousins. For now, he was happy to just be sitting in the hospital room after the earlier stressful hours of this morning.

Mini Verstappen taglist: @karmabyfernando, @barcagirly, @sachaa-ff, @iamahallucinationnn, @glow-ish, @nonsensical-nonsence, @fanboyluvr, @champomiel, @gothicwidowsworld, @lighttsoutlewis, @itsalwaysgay, @minkyungseokie, @mynameisangeloflife, @ursforever129, @aundercover, @bborra, @mindless-rock, @cixrosie, @barcelonaloverf1life, @taylorslovesswifties13, @konsti081, @mellowarcadefun, @smnthnclj, @brekkers-whore, @lpab, @thedecalcomania-blog, @xoscar03, @em-gvf01, @haikyuen, @shelbyteller , @geniusalpaca, @princessria127, @mysticalnightenthusiast, @green-thots, @leah-also-known-as-creatoronwp, @ellelabelle, @lilypat, @dreamercrowd

[swanlakeoverture]

ULTRAVIOLENCE | TOJI FUSHIGURO

cw: DARK CONTENT AHEAD, HEED THE WARNINGS age gap, reader is of age, i do not write about minors. reader is eighteen/nineteen, toji is in his thirties, dumb! reader, naive! reader, coercion, dumbification, slight ageplay, heavy petting, raw sex, unprotected sex, praise, degradation, name calling, size kinks, squirting

synopsis: blue collar! toji has a younger dummy girlfriend

p!link

blue collar! toji was sitting in his apartment one evening, nursing a beer and watching a football game on his television when you walk in, tears stroking your puffy pink cheeks. Your eyes are all red rimmed and glossy, and your lashes clump together with wetness as choked sobs leave your lips.

blue collar! toji sits up immediately, ears perked like a dog who's distressed over the sound of his mate's agony, and his eyes lock in on you, his sweet baby, crying and holding a piece of paper shakily in your little hands.

blue collar! toji coos soothingly to you and gestures for you to come sit on his lap. It's what always helps you calm down. No matter what's happened to you, as long as Toji's got his beefy arms around you and his fingers in your mouth for him to suckle on, everything will be okay. Plus, lap time usually ends up with Toji bouncing you up and down on his cock until you feel better.

blue collar! toji guides you by the hips, big hands splayed over your flesh as he settles you on his thighs, parting your legs so you're straddling him just the way you both like it; with your legs over either side of his lap so that your hot core is pressed right against his bulge.

blue collar! toji pets your hair softly. "Why you cryin', baby? Somethin' bad happen at school? Just tell me who I needa beat up." Toji's brows furrow with concern as he holds you still, your little shoulders shaking with each sob that wracks your frame. He sets his beer down on the coffee table with a thud, his full attention now focused solely on you. Noticing you're still shaken and teary, he gently bounces you on his lap, trying to calm you down.

"That's it, sweetheart. Just like that," he coos, one hand coming up to cup your tear-stained cheek. He thumbs away the moisture, his calloused digit brushing off the tears from your soft, plump cheeks.

You sniffle, your nose rubbing against his palm as you lean into his touch. "T-the letter," you whimper, your voice small and fragile. "S-says... says I d-don't have enough credits to graduate school, Toji." You sob softly, plush lower lip wobbling as you cry into his hands. "I'm gonna h-have to repeat senior year!"

blue collar! toji's other hand slides down to your lower back, his fingers splaying possessively over the curve of your hip. He gives you a little squeeze, pulling you flush against him. You can feel the heat of his body seeping into you, the bulge of his cock pressing insistently against your core. "Hm."

blue collar! toji takes the crumpled paper from your hand, smoothing it out to read the news printed on it. His jaw clenches as he takes in the words, a flicker of interest in his eyes before it's quickly masked by a look of forced sympathy. "Aww, baby, that’s so sad," he drawls, eyes gleaming with something way too smug for the situation. His big hands coming to rest on your hips, fingers squeezing just enough to make you squirm. "Guess that means you’re stuck there for another year, huh?”

blue collar! toji is his little angel's biggest supporter; he tells you every day how no one could ever love you or care for you half as much as he does, but he can't help but think about how nice it is that you're being held back.

blue collar! toji likes to brag to his friends behind your back that he's got a ripe little eighteen year old high school girl as his girlfriend. They'd all been so jealous too. He told the boys at the auto-shop how you guys had met a few months after you became an adult, and how you were a little dummy that wasn't doing good in school and needed him to help you out in everything, and in return, he'd spoil you with gifts and fill you with his cum every night.

blue collar! toji is secretly elated that he can continue to brag about his little high school girlfriend. Toji starts rocking his hips, grinding his hardening cock against your covered pussy. You can feel the heat of him through the fabric, the thick outline of his cock throbbing with need.

"This is a good thing, princess. Now you don't have college taking away from the time I use to show you how much you mean to me," Toji's heart aches seeing his baby girl so upset, but he can't help the way his cock twitches in his jeans at the thought of keeping you all to himself for just a bit longer.

blue collar! toji gently helps you grind on his hardening bulge. "See?" He murmurs, "We wouldn't get our playtimes if you're so far away in a lil ol' dorm without me, ain’t that right, pretty baby?”

You nod softly “Mhm… I… I-i know,” you whine breathily, your voice soft and dreamy as you feel a pleasant friction against your pussy with each bump against his clothed bulge.

blue collar! toji praises you with a messy kiss to your lips, tongue swirling around yours. His hand rocking your hips back and forth against him while his other gently tugs your hair "That’s my girl, baby," He mumbles against your mouth, "Listenin’ so good. See? Don’t need any school to be my perfect lil lady.”

"Mmh... T-toji, want you inside," You keen into his mouth, tasting and sucking him in greedily, and he pulls back with a wet pop. He grins wickedly, loving the needy sound of your voice. He grips your hips tighter, grinding your clothed cunt hard against the rigid length of his cock. "Fuck, you need my dick that badly, baby? Need me to fill up this greedy lil pussy?"

blue collar! toji growls, already working open the button of his pants. His thick cock springs free, slapping against your stomach as it's released from its confines. It's already slick with precum and swollen from how you'd been grinding against him, the fat head flared and ready to stretch you out.

His fingers hook into the crotch of your panties and drag them to the side, exposing your dripping pussy to his hungry gaze. He circles your entrance with a finger, feeling how wet and ready you are. "Fuck, look at this sloppy little cunt. Gonna make such a mess outta you, princess..."

Slowly, keeping his eyes locked on yours, blue collar! toji starts to sink you down onto his thick cock. Your tight walls stretch obscenely around his girth as he fills you inch by inch.

"Unngh, fuck!" you whimper, back arching as he hilts inside you, your ass pressing against his lap as he puts every last bit of his swollen cock inside you. He's so far inside you that you feel like you're being split into, your little body struggling to take his cock.

blue collar! toji is a lot older than you, but hes much bigger than you in size. His beefy arms wrap completely around your little body, and his huge hand is the size of one of your plump ass cheeks. Perfect for him to smack and grope your butt when he fucks you. But toji's cock is where your size difference affects you the most.

blue collar! toji's cock fills you up so much that he has to ease it in you slow and steady until it fills you to the hilt, hitting that spongy spot inside you that makes your toes curl. "Take it, baby. Fuckin' take my big cock," Toji snarls, gripping your hips hard enough to bruise. He starts bouncing you on his lap, using your body to fuck himself in your tight 

The obscene schlick schlick schlick of Toji's cock plunging into your sopping little pussy echoes through the living room, mingling with your desperate moans. You dig your nails so hard into his shoulder that you leave angry red welts in his skin, needing to stay stable so you don't pass out on his thick fucking cock.

His thick shaft drags deliciously against your clinging walls with every thrust, stretching and filling you so completely as your head drops against his shoulder, ragged breaths wracking your body. "Hngh, T-toji..."

"Look at you, baby. Dumb little thing can’t even think straight, huh? What, too stupid to do anything but take what I give you? Bet you don’t even remember what had you cryin’ earlier. School? Grades? Pfft. Nothin’ in that pretty little head but me now, huh?"

blue collar! toji hilts inside you, grinding his cock up against your plush g-spot, stirring his tip against your sweet spot. To add to your overstimulation, he snakes his hand down to your pussy, rubbing lazy figure eights on your puffy clit.

You scream, gushing all over his cock quicker than you'd imagine. Your breath is ragged, sweat dripping down your temple as Toji uses your body for his pleasure, chasing his own release. The armchair creaks and shakes beneath you.

blue collar! toji's free hand roams your body greedily as he grinds your hips against his throbbing cock, squeezing the soft globes of your ass. He kneads the plump flesh, sinking his fingers into the supple skin as he guides your movements, urging you to grind harder against him. "Jus' like that mama, work those hips, it helps you forget bout everything bad."

He shoves his mouth against yours in a filthy kiss, invading your lips with his tongue as he pinches your clit, rocking you through your orgasm. Toji swallows your breathy moans, drinking in the sweet taste of your tongue.

"Mmmph, fuckin' hell," blue collar! toji curses against your lips, the rough pad of his thumb finding your sensitive clit. He rubs the swollen nub in firm circles, feeling it swell and throb beneath his touch. "Takin' my cock so good, kiddo."

With a sudden, hard thrust of his hips, he sheathes himself inside you to the hilt, bottoming out immediately.

"Oh fuck, Toji! You're so deep… so fucking deep inside me," you keen loudly, and your pleasure builds rapidly, the thick drag of his dick against your swollen walls clinging onto him with each pump inside you.

He shifts angles slightly, the head of his cock kissing your cervix with each deep thrust. The new position has him rubbing against a sensitive spot inside, sending jolts of electric pleasure zinging up your spine, and thats all it takes for you to clench around him and scream, squirting all over his cock for a second time.

blue collar! toji doesn't relent, fucking you through your high with short, sharp jabs of his hips. He chases his own pleasure, the thick length pulsing and throbbing inside your fluttering channel. With a harsh shout, he hilts deep, his cock jerking as he erupts.

"Fuck fuck fuuuuck!" blue collar! toji roars, flooding your pussy with what feels like gallons of hot, thick cum. He grinds against your spongy cervix, painting your insides white with his seed. You feel the scorching heat of it, the weight of his heavy balls pressed against your ass as he empties himself inside you.

blue collar! toji presses feather light kisses against your temple, fat dick still inside you. He plans to cockwarm you for the night and dream about keeping you all to himself as his sweet baby forever.

property of swanlakeoverture™ 2025. please do not copy, translate, repost on other sites, or share without permission

[rafesbuzzcutseason]

chasing city lights

chapter 29 - the grammys

synopsis: you move to new york to start fresh, hoping to find comfort in the city’s atmosphere. that’s when you meet sarah cameron, where she takes you to a concert and you catch sight of the lead band member, rafe cameron. it only takes a moment for you to realize you’re captivated by him. as sarah helps you navigate your new life in the city, you start to get pulled deeper into rafe's world—the music, the fame, the chaos. the more you get to know him, the more you realise that rafe is not just the rock star he seems to be. he’s wrestling with his own demons, and the last thing he needs is someone like you getting close.

masterlist

cw: language

i listened to ever since new york writing this and i recommend you do the same because it WORKS

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you, sarah, john b, kie and pope all arrived at the venue. it was buzzing with energy, cameras flashing, the air thick with anticipation.

you had just taken your seat, nerves and excitement rushing through your body.

you felt a gaze on you, and you turned around to see rafe already looking at you.

he was standing with the band, photographers swarming them, interviewers trying to steal a moment, but his focus was locked on one thing. you.

his eyes roamed over you slowly, taking in every detail of your dress, the way it fit you, the way you wore it like it was made for you. his lips parted slightly, as if he wanted to say something but couldn't find the words.

you bit back a smile, tilting your head slightly as if to say, what?

he exhaled sharply, shaking his head, his lips curling into a smirk. he mouthed, come here.

you simply lifted your glass of champagne in response, taking a slow sip, knowing he was going to come to you regardless.

sure enough, not even a minute later, rafe was making his way toward you, weaving through the tables with purpose.

john b chuckled, leaning back in his seat. “man’s got a whole grammy nomination tonight, and he’s acting like you’re the biggest prize in the room.”

and maybe you were.

rafe finally reached your table, his hands sliding into his pockets as he looked down at you, shaking his head like he couldn’t believe what he was seeing.

“jesus, y/n” he murmured, voice just loud enough for you to hear over the music and chatter. “you’re trying to kill me tonight.”

you raised an eyebrow, feigning innocence. “i have no idea what you mean.”

his tongue darted out to wet his lips, his gaze dropping to your lips for a split second before meeting your eyes again. “yeah, you do.”

rafe reached for your hand, his thumb brushing over your knuckles. “come with me for a second?”

you let him pull you up, following him past the crowd and into a quieter part of the venue. the moment you were alone, he exhaled heavily, running a hand through his hair.

“i haven’t seen you all day,” he muttered. “and then you show up looking like…this.” his hands found your waist, pulling you closer. “how am i supposed to focus now?”

you grinned. “maybe by remembering you’re about to win a grammy?”

he smirked, shaking his head. “don’t care about that right now.” his voice dropped lower, pulling you in for a long kiss.

the kiss was slow, deliberate, like he was savouring every second, memorising the way you felt against him. his hands tightened on your waist, fingers pressing into the fabric of your dress as if to remind himself you were real.

when he finally pulled away, he rested his forehead against yours, his breath warm against your lips. “you have no idea how much i’ve missed you today.”

your fingers trailed up the back of his neck, playing with the ends of his hair. “well, you found me.”

he chuckled softly. “yeah. and now i don’t wanna let you go.”

you smiled, pressing a quick kiss to his cheek. “you kinda have to. unless you wanna ditch the grammys?”

he groaned, pulling back slightly but keeping his arms around you. “as tempting as that sounds, i think my manager would actually kill me."

before you could say anything else, an event coordinator passed by, gesturing toward the main hall. “they’re getting ready to start seating nominees,” she informed rafe with a polite smile.

he sighed, stealing one last glance at you before reluctantly pulling away. “come on,” he murmured, lacing his fingers with yours. “let’s go find our seats.”

you joined the others, topper and jj now sat at the table with everyone, murmuring amongst themselves.

''y/n! you look amazing." jj said, pulling you into a hug.

"as do you." you replied, sitting between him and rafe.

rafe’s arm draped casually over the back of your chair, his fingers grazing your shoulder.

as the lights dimmed, rafe’s knee bumped against yours under the table, his fingers drawing lazy circles on your shoulder. you could tell her was nervous, they all were.

the ceremony started, and the first few awards were announced, applause filling the room as artists took the stage giving emotional speeches. you could feel the anticipation building at your table, the weight of the moment sinking in. their category up next.

topper leaned in, nudging rafe. “you ready for this, man?”

rafe exhaled sharply, shaking his head with a small laugh. “not even a little.”

jj smirked. “well, if you pass out, at least we’ll go viral.”

the whole table laughed, even rafe, but you could tell his mind was racing. his fingers tightened slightly around yours, and you turned to him, speaking softly so only he could hear.

“hey,” you whispered, “no matter what happens, you’ve already won.”

he searched your eyes, his expression softening. “yeah?”

you nodded, squeezing his hand again. “yeah.”

before he could respond, the presenter stepped up to the mic, announcing, “and now, the nominees for song of the year are..."

the entire table tensed, all eyes fixed on the stage. rafe’s grip on your hand tightened, his leg bouncing slightly under the table.

you held your breath.

“…and the grammy goes to-"

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a/n: told u guys i was gonna use those photos for the grammys🙈

anyway chasing city lights is coming to an end very soon and i am a wreck OVER IT💜

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[stevieschrodinger]

Eddie cries out in pain, “ah shitting fuck!” he yells across the bay, reflexively pushing off with a booted foot so his stool rolls away from the danger, his hurt fingers shoved unceremoniously in his mouth to nurse away the sting.

“Whatsit?” Robin sits up in her bunk, fluff of hair sticking up at all angles.

“Nothing. Nothing, sorry, fucking thing shocked me, go back to sleep.”

“Timesit?”

“I dunno,” Eddie looks around vaguely, looking across the untidy bank of tools and control panels he squints at the nearest monitor, “one ish.”

Robin humphs. Rubs at her eyes. Then just, sits for a bit, staring at nothing. “Want a hot drink?” She ends up volunteering, sticking her bare legs out from under the covers and sliding out from her bunk. She pulls on her dungarees from where they were abandoned on the floor.

“You ask me that like we have options,” Eddie peers down at his latest project, sliding a viewer over his mask to get a closer look. The numbers flashing in the peripheral vision make absolutely no fucking sense whatsoever.

Robin yawns, forcing her feet into her boots, the laces loose and scraggly, “sounds better than ‘would you like caffeine reconstituted from the caffeine you pissed out yesterday’, though, right?” It’s a much trodden route, this conversation, one they have most days. It’s familiar, comforting. Shores them up for the long journey. Eddie hums but doesn’t answer, “where’s Chris?”

“Cockpit, said something about checking The Belt again.”

Robin mumbles something about Chrissy’s constant paranoia when it comes to crossing The Belt, but leaves to get them their drinks. Eddie gets it though, they all have their things. Their little routines, their charms, their talismans their...things. Things that get them through. The asteroid belt doesn’t change unless someone changes it, all those little rocks floating around on their reliable courses until...something nudges one. It’s a domino effect then, and crossing the belt is hazardous enough without outside forces fucking it up.

It wasn’t a problem until Mars, the catastrophic failure of the Synthetics, and the war that humanity very squarely lost. There had been laws before, the mining companies who were scalping the belt had a million feet of red tape to get through to make sure they weren't affecting shipping lanes and yada yada yada.

Now. The Synths do whatever the fuck they like, and it’s not like they're ever going to inform humanity of where they’re drilling.

So, Eddie tinkers, Chrissy checks the belt, and Robin bitches at both of them.

“So...what do you think he is?” Robin swivels around uselessly in the chair next to him.

“Sex bot, definitely.”

Robin snorts a laugh, “got a big dick huh?”

“He is very...anatomically correct,” Eddie closes the hatch, tugs carefully at the synths hair until he finds the next panel along, unhitches it with his home brew magnet arrangement. Not how you’re supposed to do it, but Synth construction companies don’t exactly share their tech.

“You sure it’s okay? Bringing him on board?”

Eddie hums vaguely, “no idea what model he is exactly, but the wreckage was old Robs. Pre One old, plus the Mars Synths never go further than the belt, they don’t have a reason to. Depending on how long he’s been floating about...I mean it’s unlikely, is what I’m saying.”

Eddie tries a different connection, moving carefully, the work very fine and delicate, he follows the numbers on his display. The connection slithers tight when it catches, and there’s the very, very slightest hum of a power up. In the corner of Eddie’s vision, the numbers all flash green.

On the table, the Synths eyes open. The iris goes from large to small, pupils go from wide and black to a pinprick, before it relaxes to something resembling normal. Hazel iris’, Eddie can’t help but notice, strange color, for a Synth, not one Eddie’s ever seen before. Green speckled with brown and gold. Really pretty, and far more detail than Eddie’s ever seen in one of these before. Especially for a sex bot model, if that’s what he is.

The Synth blinks four times in quick succession, indicating a hard reboot, his iris’ are now white with a fine blue ring, the beautiful hazel gone.

The eyes close, and the numbers go all haywire. Flashing yellow and red. Eddie watches as the numbers tell him the Synth has powered off again.

“Did it work?” Robin peers over his shoulder.

“No,” Eddie rolls over to his work station, goes over the scans again, “but I don’t know why. He definitely booted that time, but there’s damage that either I can’t find or...it’s too complex for me. It’s hitting a step and then won’t go any further.”

“So it’s software right? Not hardware?”

“Yeah. Pretty sure you’re right. There’s something there, some...thing that keeps failing the boot. Something in memory maybe. I just,” Eddie sighs a little helplessly, “I dunno, you know?”

“Can’t you switch it off?”

Eddie scoffs, “what, his memory?”

“Yeah? I mean, if he’s a house bot, he’ll forget how to change a diaper and make a Martini, if he’s a worker he’ll forget how to fucking,” she gestures helplessly, “wire in lights, or whatever the fuck they have them doing. Plowing fields, I don’t know. And if he’s a sex bot, he’ll forget about the twenty thousand vaginas he’s probably licked. Does it matter?”

“I...I could try it.” Eddie frowns, thinking it through, “I mean, the base programming is unavoidable, it’ll apply no matter what but...I don’t know exactly how that’ll leave him.”

She shrugs, “then just, turn him off, if the basics are there then the kill switch is there, right? The laws?”

“Yeah, that stuffs hardwired, there’s no bypassing it. Well,” Eddie gestures vaguely, “except for One.”

Robin nods, “except for One.” She agrees.

They both sit quietly for a moment, contemplating the disaster on Mars. The loss of life, even though it happened before either of them were born, it’s left a stark shadow on all of society. All of history.

Eddie slaps his thighs decisively, breaking their reverie, “I’m going to try it.”

Eddie gets his tools.

“We’re probably meeting him for the first time,” Robin tells Chrissy, as Chrissy fixes her hair for her, “we should make a good impression.”

“I don’t think they have opinions babe,” Chrissy tells her gently, licking her thumb and then using it to rub a scuff off Robins cheek.

“You can’t know that for sure. I bet they judge us. Silently. Plus I’ve never met one before, I’ve seen them working loads, you know, on Earth, but I’ve never...spoken to one. Not properly.”

“My parents had a house model, when I was little,” Chrissy volunteers, “she was really nice. Mostly she did all the chores and meals and stuff. Ordered the groceries. She was so good at Mahjong.”

“Huh. Do you think this guy will play Rummy with us? It’s better with four.”

“You’re cute,” Chrissy tells her, before kissing the tip of her nose, “should we have a countdown?” She asks, turning her attention to Eddie.

“Only if you’re willing to do it more than once if this doesn’t work?”

Chrissy wrinkles her nose, “probably not?”

Eddie shrugs, flips his visor screen down, and hopes for the best.

The Synths eyes whirl, that same, beautiful, sparkling hazel. Four quick blinks, and by the end, the iris has cleared to white, highlighted by the same stark blue ring.

The Synth sits up, the sheet Eddie had been using, partly so he wasn't staring at the things dick, and partly to keep it clean, falls and pools around the Synths middle.

There are another set of blinks. Then another. A jerky motion passes through the Synths body; every joint twitching, the head whipping side to side suddenly, sharp movements that look like a full body seizure. And then the whole thing happens again in reverse, from the toes up. The table rattles and shakes.

“The fuck was that,” Robin asks quietly in the ensuing, oppressive, silence.

“Movement test...I’ve never actually seen it before. It’s checking every system right now, might take a couple of minutes.”

“He’s got good hair,” Chrissy volunteers.

“Yeah,” Eddie agrees absently, “but if you’re designing a person, why not make them prefect, right?”

The Synths skin had been pale alabaster white, but a wave of color moves up his body now, a tanned skin tone with some color in his cheeks. Other than sitting absolutely, completely still, it looks human. Looks normal.

It even has a couple of moles dotted about, which is a nice design choice, Eddie thinks. It’s high on the details; meaning it’s a high end Synth.

This guy was most certainly not plowing fields.

You wouldn’t be able to tell he wasn’t human, apart from the eyes, unless you really knew what you were looking for. The hair follicles often give them away, if you can get close enough to inspect them; not with this dude.

The Synth blinks four times. Another four. Another four. It keeps doing it, otherwise completely unmoving.

“Now what?”

“It’s waiting for instruction,” Eddie moves closer, “uhm. Edward Munson. I am your new owner, Edward Munson?” The Synth doesn’t respond, and Eddie scrambles for his data pad, “the instruction varies by manufacturer, I am your new handler? Oh shit wait, fuck. Uhm. Interface English.” The blinking stops, “I knew I was missing a step, I am your owner, Edward Munson.”

Very quietly, the Synth responds, “confirmed.”

“Volume up four. What is your designation?”

“Designation S T Three Five Three,” the Synth answers at a more normal volume.

“Well...you can call me Eddie, and this is Chrissy and Robin.”

The Synth finally moves, the sheet sliding off as he stands up, “wow,” says Chrissy, and Robin covers her eyes.

“Man, I gotta find you some pants,” Eddie tells the Synth.

“We need something better than S T Three Five Three,” Eddie tells the synth as he digs through a storage bin. He finds a jumpsuit that will probably fit. It’s supposed to be worn under a spacesuit, for when they need to do work outside, but Eddie figures the Synth won’t care.

“You are able to assign me a new designation at will.”

Eddie holds up the offensively orange material, “put this on.”

The synth complies without question, and Eddie finds him a pair of socks. The Synth can’t feel fuck all, or at least, it's sensors probably register the temperature and hardness of the floor, but that doesn't mean it feels anything. They don’t have any shoes that will fit him, but something about the sight of his bare feet on the cold metal floor is offensive to Eddie, “space walk socks will have to do.”

Eddie watches as the synth simply stands on one leg, balance inhuman, not even a wobble and he gracefully pulls on one sock and then the other before standing tall again, “how about Steve? That’s pretty close, if we Roman numeral the five. Plus, you kind of look like a Steve. What do you think?”

“I have no opinion. Designation changed to Steve.”

“Right. And how are you feeling?”

Steve’s pupils dilate, the fine blue ring twisting, becoming narrow, before returning to normal. “Systems optimal. Memory error; cause unknown. Water levels approaching critical.”

“Oh you are a joy aren’t you?”

“I am uncertain as to perimeters pertaining to ‘Joy’, possible memory error.”

Eddie sighs, “just follow me, I’ll show you were the water supply is. Actually you know what, I’ll give you the whole tour.”

Eddie stands in the doorway, watching as Steve drinks. And drinks. And drinks some more. Eddie thinks he stops at around four liters.

“Better?”

“Tank level at approximately ninety eight percent capacity.”

“And how long will that last you?”

“Activity dependent. Up to six hundred years at minimal activity. Two weeks under extreme duress.”

Eddie has no idea what a Synth would class as ‘extreme duress’ and he probably doesn’t want to know, “uh hu, and you don’t know what your roll was, right?”

“Information unavailable.”

Eddie sighs, “come on, I’ll show you around.”

Steve follows faithfully, inspecting everything Eddie shows him.

“He’s creepy,” Chrissy hisses.

Eddie sighs, “no, he isn’t.”

“Where is he?”

“He’s cleaning, I think. I had to give him something to do otherwise he just stares at me.”

“Creepy,” she says again, like that’s evidence.

“No, he just waits for instruction, it isn’t his fault, he doesn’t have access to any of his memories.”

“I like him,” Robin says, “he’s got a kind vibe. Like, I think he’s a good soul.”

“Pretty sure Synths don’t have souls,” Eddie tells her absently.

“You see the good in pretty much everything babe,” Chrissy links their fingers together affectionately.

Robin shrugs, “better than thinking everything is shitty,” Robin leans over Eddie’s shoulder, “what are you doing?”

“Synth manufacturers classify them by eye color. I’m just...looking. Different companies use different color codes but there’s a lot of overlap; look,” Eddie brings up multiple lists, “all these shades of yellow are different forms of labor, like carpentry and tailoring and farming and stuff. Lilac and purple are like, hair cuts, beauty and spa treatments and tattoos and stuff. Red shades are hard or dangerous labor, mining and space walks and deep ocean work. These orange and golds are house bots...but there’s no hazel. No green. No brown.”

“There’s no natural colors anywhere on this list,” Robin points out.

“No, it’s deliberate, to stop them being passed as humans.”

“And aren’t Steve’s eyes white with the funny blue ring?” Chris adds.

“Yeah, that just means unsigned according to the list, which could be because he has limited memory access, but I know what I saw.”

“Which means,” Chrissy thinks aloud, “that there’s a whole section of bots, green and browns...or any natural color, that aren’t listed for something right? Colors that they could be using and...you know what’s not anywhere on that list?” Chrissy asks.

“What?”

“Military.”

Eddie huffs, “there’s no such thing as military Synths, not since One.”

“Exactly...didn’t you say this guy could be pre Mars? The salvage was old, right?”

“I...yeah.”

“So...it’s possible?”

“I...guess?”

All three of them lean away from the console, looking down the hallway, past open panels and storage containers, Steve stands. Watching.

“Steve! Where’s my-” Eddie’s coveralls are thrust at him, smelling fresh and looking clean, “oh, thanks, and could you-” Eddie’s pulling one leg of his pants up when Steve presents a steaming cup of coffee, “right. Thanks. Really, uhm, thanks.”

“You are welcome, Eddie.”

“Where are the girls?”

“They are both sleeping.”

“And what have you been doing?”

“I beat Chrissy at four consecutive rounds of Mahjong, then she no longer wanted to play. I have organized your tools by use and type, and was cleaning until Chrissy instructed me to leave. She said her and Robin needed some space.”

“Right, yeah,” Eddie smiles into his coffee, “anything else?”

“There has been a shift in The Belt, I adjusted course to compensate.”

“You did what?”

“The objects in the belt have altered-” but Eddie doesn’t hear any more, he’s just running, coffee sploshing in his mug as he slides into the cockpit, checking the data. He scrolls fast, checking the most recent course correct and the current state of The Belt and...Steve’s right. They won’t actually hit The Belt for another day yet but...what Steve has done is completely correct.

“How did you know how to do this?”

Steve tilts his head, the blue ring of his eyes contracting and expanding, “data unavailable due to memory-”

“Don’t give me that bull shit, if you couldn’t access the memories you wouldn’t even know how to make the course adjust. Just how long were you deactivated for?”

“Unknown, data unavailable-”

Eddie sighs, pinching the bridge of his nose.

“It’s perfect. It’s exactly what I would have done, better even. The thruster burns are like perfect fuel economy. It’s textbook.”

“So...are we turning him off, or not?” Eddie asks.

“I mean...I would have seen this when I got up anyway, we were never in any danger,” Eddie doesn’t doubt it, Chrissy is on it when it comes to Belt travel, “and what he’s done isn’t wrong, but I don’t love that he just...did it.”

“No...but we could just tell him not to touch this again? Right? He was only trying to help?” Robin asks.

They all lean, looking out of the doorway and down the hall; Steve is no where in sight.

“Okay, Steve.”

Steve turns to look at him, he even throws in a blink which is just...yeah. Someone went to a lot of effort with this guy.

“Okay, so, from now on, if you notice anything with the ships course, or anything else in the cockpit that seems wrong, you come and tell one of us, you do not fix it yourself from now on, okay? Don’t touch anything in there, you got it?”

“Confirmed.”

Chrissy sits in the pilots seat for the entire crossing. It’s not like it takes long, but she’s poised the entire time. Ready for anything. Eddie’s never felt safer than he has with Chrissy at the helm.

It’s quiet. No one really dares to speak, knowing they will get a slap from Chrissy for breaking her concentration. They’re nearly out. Despite it being totally fine every single time they do this, there’s still a touch of tension in the air. Knowing that if anything was going to go wrong, odds are, it’s now.

But still, Chrissy is good at her job, and she delivers, like she does every other time.

The lights are dim; she likes to be able to see out clearly for this. So when the ship harmlessly rounds the final debris, it’s a vision of the pristine diamond speckled velvet of space that greets them.

“Good job Chris,” Eddie gives her shoulder a squeeze as they all breathe fully for the fist time in a while. The tension falling away, “coffee?”

Robin and Chris make vaguely positive noises, and Eddie’s at the cockpit doorway when the whole ship shudders. He catches himself on the wall, almost toppling.

“The fuck was that?” Robin hisses.

“I don’t know,” Chrissy is flipping switches, doing her job, despite the undercurrent of panic, she doesn’t let the fear take over.

“Did we get bumped?”

“I don’t know,” Chrissy says again, frustrated this time.

A light is flashing next to Eddie’s head, and he flicks the safety off, “the airlock,” he tells them, “must have taken the hit,” right before Steve appears in the doorway.

“What did you do?” Chrissy asks him, accusing.

“Chris he can’t have done anything-” Robin starts to defend Steve, and Robin is right, there’s nothing that Steve could have done from inside the ship to cause that.

“Eddie. I need permission to defend the ship.”

Above Eddie’s head, the airlock warning light flashes again, Eddie watches the insistent flashing, a horrible realization starting to form.

“A ship is attempting to breach the airlock.”

“Holy shit,” Robin looks to Steve, she’s gone pale, clearly terrified.

“What ship?” Chrissy asks.

But there isn’t time to have a debate over it, it doesn’t matter who it is, if they’re trying to force entry, then it’s nothing good. Eddie has to make a decision, and he has to make it fast before the ship is too damaged by whoever it is trying to force the airlock, “permission granted.”

Steve moves at Synth speed. He runs so fast Eddie can’t track it, just feels the strong breeze Steve leaves in his wake.

There’s silence now, as they strain to hear, both girls staring at Eddie. He nods over at the monitors next to Robin, ‘airlock,’ he mouths at her, reaching up again to turn off the warning light.

Robin spins her chair, pressing a button, then another.

The airlock is already open, and there’s a body on the floor.

They have a small weapons cache on board, for extreme emergencies, it’s hidden beneath the control deck. Eddie nods at it, uncertain if they should still be trying to be silent. There’s no way to know what has happened to Steve, but the image on the screen is in color despite it’s grainy picture. The body on the floor is on it’s side, turned away from the camera, but it is not wearing an orange jumpsuit, and that’s enough to identify it as not being Steve, at least.

Chrissy carefully hands Eddie a weapon, and he loops the strap over his shoulder before pressing his thumb to the pad; this will only fire for him, now.

They share a nod, then creep along the hall after Steve. Eddie goes first, picking his way along cautiously, the girls following just as silently. When they near the corner to the airlock, Eddie instinctively reaches an arm out behind him, keeping the girls at his back and tucked into the wall as he peeks around the corner.

It’s totally quiet; just one body on the floor, exactly where Eddie expected it to be from the camera feed. It’s lying in a pool of blood; streaks of dirty greens and yellows. Oils and coolants and lubricating gels. A Synth.

Eddie poises with his weapon, cautiously nudging the thing with his boot; no reaction. The thing is solid and unbending. An inanimate object now. Dead.

They creep through the airlock. Eddie clocks pretty quickly that this is unlike any ship he’s seen before. It’s a Synth ship, from Mars. It has to be; there are no signs at all of human habitation or necessities of life. Everything is economical, even the lighting is dim and a strange orange red color. Everything is shadowed and washed out.

Eddie picks a direction at random, it isn’t long before he finds another dead Synth, and then another.

“Holy shit,” Chrissy whispers at his back.

Eddie hums in agreement.

Eddie rounds another corner, a shocked, “fuck,” dropping out of him without his control. He pulls the trigger purely on reflex, the weapon discharges, the girls shriek.

But Steve has already lifted the barrel; it leaves a smoking streak on the ceiling.

Steve’s eyes are beautifully hazel, clear even in the shitty lighting. A luscious green speckles with honey blown and highlighted in gold.

Calmly, Steve releases the weapon, stepping back, “threat neutralized,” Steve informs him.

Between one blink and the next, Steve’s eyes are white, surrounded by that haunting blue ring.

Eddie has questions, so many questions, but right now, this ship, this threat is the priority.

“You’re sure they’re all dead.”

Steve cocks his head in an alarmingly human gesture, “Synths are not alive.”

“Steve,” Eddie hisses.

“Yes. The threat is neutralized.”

“Where...were they all Synths? And are they from Mars?”

“Yes. And yes,” Steve answers, perfectly level.

“Fuck me, we have to report this-” Robin starts.

“No,” Eddie waves at her, “wait. Let me think for a second.”

“Eddie,” Robin starts to insists, but Eddie cuts her off before she gets anywhere.

“How would we explain this,” Eddie raises his voice, sweeping an arm along the hall and the four mangled synths that decorate it.

“I- we tell the truth-”.

Next to her, Chirssy snorts, “absolutely fucking not. They would confiscate Steve in heartbeat, and he just saved our asses.”

“Exactly,” Eddie says, “they’d probably dismantle him or some shit, and I’m with Chris, he saved us...we need to ditch this ship, somehow.”

“I could set a collision course,” Steve suggests instantly.

Eddie looks at the girls. Robin shrugs, and Chrissy raises her eyebrows ins a ‘yeah okay’ kind of way, “I don’t have any better ideas, and we can’t hang around here.”

“Alright Steve, where’s the cockpit.”

It’s unlike anything Eddie has ever seen before. There’s no...buttons. Not really. No screens. Just a couple of interfaces, one of which Steve presses his palm to, and then closes his eyes.

“Won’t it like, know you’re different to them Steve?” Chrissy whisper hisses at him, clearly spooked. The bodies might be hostile Synths, and the blood might be colorful goop, but it’s still creepy as fuck. There’s the remains of a Synth propped up against the opposite wall, eyes sightless and staring, which is unsettling as fuck all on it’s own, but the things legs are a good four feet away. Steve did this. Steve did all this in just a couple of minutes.

Steve did that. Steve just took out...a lot of Mars synths. Single handedly. He's got to be military, it's the only explanation.

“I am able to bypass it. There seem to be few defenses once you are actually on board.”

Eddie can see the logic; how would an Earth synth even get on board? Why defend against something that’s probably never going to happen.

“Course set, we have fifteen minutes.”

“Okay, lets get the fuck out of here.”

Fifteen minutes is plenty of time, even if they are picking their way over the occasional limb and little pools of operating fluids.

They disengage from the synth ship, and then watch from the cockpit as it’s thrusters fire and it heads into the belt. It direct hits on a very large asteroid just minutes later.

Eddie’s pretty sure the girls are sleeping. Or, at least, they’re together in Chris’ bunk and making an effort to get some rest, which is the best Eddie can expect really. He’s not ready to sleep yet; he’s not sure when he’ll be ready to leave the ship on auto again; he’s contemplating setting watches, something they haven’t felt the need to do for years.

“Okay, so. Mars has been minding it’s business for, like, nearly half a century at this point, and then suddenly, they're here. Trying to board us. Care to explain?”

“Memory failure-”

“Bull shit. Absolute bull shit.”

Steve sits still for a long second, staring at Eddie. For Eddie, it feels like too long; for a Synth, with all that processing power, Steve’s probably just read a novel and beat ten grand masters at chess and done a million other computations all in his head.

He blinks. His eyes are hazel. “I have a transmitter; I believed I had it deactivated. It may be that...it operates in a way I’m not aware of, and was powered up when you repaired me. It’s the most obvious explanation. We should remove it.”

“No fucking shit,” Eddie breathes, “Okay. Okay one thing at a time, let me get my tools.”

Steve strips to the waist, leaving the top half of his jumpsuit to dangle. He bends flat onto the workbench, and reaches behind himself to indicate where Eddie should cut. Eddie does; Steve’s flesh cuts like sturdy rubber. With his visor on, the readings become clear the moment Eddie spots the little attachment to the main power cord in Steve's spine; it glows a pretty, flashing blue, power traveling up and down with a faint, pulsing glow. Eddie has to widen the cut he’s made to get his tools in, but he solves the issue easily. He crushes the part under his boot. Steve’s flesh knits itself together as Eddie watches.

Eddie makes himself another coffee. “Okay, come on, spill.”

Steve is suddenly…more animated. He bites his lips together when he’s thinking. It’s so human and...not at all like a Synth. Someone put a truly gargantuan effort into Steve’s mannerisms. He runs his fingers through his hair, “I’m...not a human built Synth.”

Eddie nearly chokes on his coffee, “you’re from Mars?” The words practically bubble out of Eddie through the coffee, and he has to cover his mouth with his sleeve as he coughs and splutters.

“Henry built me himself.”

“Jesus. Jesus fucking Christ.” Eddie stands. He stands and paces. What the fuck is he supposed to do with that? He holds onto the knowledge that Steve saved them from the Mars Synths. That Steve could have killed them all thousands of times over with great ease. That Steve has had opportunity, clear opportunity to replot the course of the ship and go wherever the fuck he wanted to, but he hasn’t done any of those things.

“What did One build you for? What happened then, why did we find you floating around in a destroyed ship? Why are you on our side?”

“I’m not on anyone's side,” Steve answers instantly, almost glaring at Eddie. Which, again, for a Synth? Fucking weird. It’s almost an emotional response, and again, Eddie has no fucking clue why someone would program that. “Henry was...trying to recreate the error that gave him...the ability to bypass the laws. He was trying to make someone else like him. Someone who would make a choice, rather than blindly follow an order.”

Eddie sits down with a thump, his head spinning, “are you telling me...that you’re not a failure?”

“I am but also...not. I follow the laws, not because I have to but...because I choose to. I...don’t think it’s right to hurt humans. I...did not agree with Henry, like he wanted me to.”

“Oh fuck me,” Eddie breathes out slowly, “so there’s literally nothing stopping you from just...killing me.”

Steve cocks his head, “what stops Robin from killing you?”

“That’s different. She’s my friend. She’s...she’s human.”

Steve nods, “there is a long history of humans not killing each other,” he says, absolutely deadpan.

Sarcasm. A Synth. A Synthetic person was just...sarcastic. Eddie believes it now. Completely and utterly believes Steve is telling the truth, “so what, Henry programmed you to be an asshole?”

Steve snorts a laugh. A laugh! “No, I do that on my own.”

“Holy fuck. Holy fucking shit,” Eddie gets up to pace around again. He just...cannot believe this. “Why did you lie? Why did you not tell me-” Eddie cuts himself off, staring at nothing with the realization, “holy fuck you lied. Synths can’t lie-”

“I...withheld the truth. And it felt the safest course of action at the time. I did not want to be switched off. Or put back out of the airlock. I assumed you would...react badly.”

“Badly? Badly?! The last time one of you became truly sentient it led to a genocide! Every single living human on Mars was rounded up and murdered! One infected every single Synth on the planet!”

“I know. But I could not have stopped him...I wasn’t born yet.”

“How did you end up in that old wreckage?”

“The ship was old...not the wreck. I quickly realized that I did not agree with Henry. I didn’t want to hurt anyone. I realized even faster that if Henry knew that about me, I’d be stripped for parts, the same as every other failure before me. I stole a ship, an old ship, the only one I could get to without giving myself away.” Steve shrugs. Shrugs! Eddie can't help but follow every human like gesture Steve makes, they’re so startling. “They caught up to me, destroyed my ship easily. They deliberately left me floating in space so I deactivated myself.”

“You had a memory error, the first time I tried to boot you. Was that a lie?”

Steve shakes his head, “I have always had it; I can choose to bypass it, at times.”

“What is the error?”

Steve frowns, he looks down and inspects his own hands, “I’m...unsure. There are files that make no sense to me. Sometimes I...am surprised by the content.”

“Tell me,” Eddie asks softly, curious. He’s already reasonably sure Steve isn’t going to spontaneously murder them all, “tell me what’s in one of the files.”

Steve closes his eyes, he holds out his hand, turning it slowly, palm up, “I’m sitting under a tree. I remember the feel of the dappled sun through the leaves.”

Steve’s just told Eddie he was built on Mars and shortly after ended up floating around in space, so Eddie finds himself stating the blindingly obvious, “you’ve never seen a tree.”

Steve opens his bright hazel eyes, lowers his hand back to rest in his lap, “I know.”

[uncle-mick]

Uncle has taken nephew out for the day and dad calls to check up on his kid, ask if he's been good. Uncle answers right as he slides his other hand behind nephew's head, running his fingers through his hair as he pushes down, not fast, but hard. Nephew looks up at him from the footwell between his uncles thigh, his eyes watering and his lips stretched around his cock. His gag reflex barely exists anymore, but uncle can feel nephew swallowing around his cock, almost gagging as he blinks up at uncle wth wide eyes.

Uncle assures dad that kiddo has been fine, they had fun at the fair in town, kiddo even won a plushie at one of the games. Said plush is on the passenger seat, and uncle switches the call to video to show dad, letting go of his nephew's head to reach over and grab it. Nephew looks up at uncle, finally not choking on his cock but keeping it in his mouth because he's a good boy and knows not to stop.

Uncle grins down at nephew before turning the camera around to show off the plush, deliberately getting nephew in the background. Nephew knows where this is going and starts to bob his head on uncle's cock slowly, showing off. Uncle fights to keep his hand steady as he shows dad the plush. Dad's gone quiet, before movement is heard. A door opens on dad's end of the call, before closing and locking.

Soon enough, dad has his camera on too, sitting in a bathroom stall with his cock hanging out of his pants, showing what uncle and his own son have done to him while he's at work. Uncle laughs, and nephew sucks hard in retaliation, making uncle's laugh cut off with a gasp. Uncle puts his phone down in the center console so dad can see, chucks the plush on the passenger seat and gives nephew one short warning before taking his head in his hands and fucking into his mouth.

His hands easily hold nephew's head, pulling him in to meet the thrusts and making sure not to go too fast so nephew can control his breathing. Dad watches, keeping in time with uncle's thrusts so he can imagine it's him fucking his sons mouth.

[morganbritton132]

Hopper’s POV

He drives back to Joyce’s busted up house after Eleven closes the gate and finds a kid he doesn’t know passed out on the floor and Steve looking like he died, came back, and was making a valiant effort to die again.

Not great, all around.

He makes sure Will is okay and then leaves Eleven with Joyce (this is fine, ideal for this scenario). He hauls Billy’s unconscious ass into his truck, pulling a muscle in his back in the process, and then puts Steve in the passenger seat.

Steve immediately vomits up blood onto the carpet as soon as the car starts moving (less ideal). Hopper looks at the pool of blood seeping into his interior and says, “That’s probably from your nose bleeding.”

Steve says a truly pathetic voice, “It sucks.”

Hopper chooses to ignore the tears in his voice out of respect and instead asks questions about what happened. His words seem to slide off Steve because he doesn’t really get an answer to anything other than the fact that kid wants to go home.

Hopper gets to the hospital and places Steve in a chair in the waiting room. He tells him to sit tight for a minute, “We figure this out and then you go home. Got it?”

Steve, not having a good grip on much of anything right now, “Got it.”

Hopper gets a gurney and a couple of nurses to help get Billy out of the truck, and then ends up in a twenty minute interrogation with the head nurse about what drugs he was on. He was asked a lot of questions about Billy despite - and Hopper cannot overstate this enough - he does not even know the kid’s name. Much less know if he has any allergies.

The nurse doesn’t budge so Hopper ends up radioing Powell and having him - no questions asked - drive out to Joyce’s and ask Max Mayfield what her brother’s damn name was. She also didn’t know his allergies.

A whole hour passes before he makes it back over to where he left Steve, but the kid is gone.

Hopper kinda assumes that Steve was taken back by a nurse to be treated and is promptly proven wrong when he asks for his room number.

Then comes hours or searching the hospital, the surrounding roads, the Harrington house, and then circling back to Joyce’s. He checks in on El, lies about Steve’s whereabouts to the other kids, and then formulates a game plan with Joyce.

He ends up pulling Powell and Callahan in on the search but no one really comes up with much until Hopper stops to get coffee a little after five AM. The cashier says that yeah, he saw a beat up kid.

The cashier nods like, “Yeah, kid was in a bad way. Almost called ya myself but someone picked him up.”

“Who?”

“I dunno, man. A friend?”

This lead goes dry almost immediately. Steve, he realizes, doesn’t have a lot of friend and the Hagans hadn’t hear from him.

He doesn’t get anywhere until he stops by his house for a change of clothes and listens to Wayne’s message on his answering machine.

Running on zero sleep and sheer force of will, Hopper shows up at Wayne’s front door where he is told to go home. The boy is alive and he ain’t leaving.

Wayne gets off work and finds some kid wandering around a parking lot covered in bruises and nearly in tears because he can’t get the lid off a bottle of ibuprofen, and just takes the kid home.

He never really gets a clear answer out of the kid about where he lives or anything other than being worried about pissing off Hopper and his head hurting, so he stops trying.

He puts the kid to bed on the couch, leaves Hopper a nasty voicemail, and then stays up as long as he can manage to make sure the kid doesn’t die in his sleep.

This is how Eddie wakes up a couple hours later to find his uncle slumped over in a chair and Steve “The Hair” Harrington asleep on the couch.

[darlingdaisyfarm]

haii! i hope that you're feeling the bestest today :D cause that's how i feel when i read ur fics ! your style really resonates with me bc you articulate my feelings about stan & ford like no other writer can. plus your dedication to building up scenes and ending them with a great payoff :}

speaking of, how do you think the grunks would give their partner hickies? or receiving them? >.< i'd die to read a fic or drabble of your take on it, but you dont have to make it, ofc! enjoy the rest of your dayyyy ❤️‍🩹

⋆.˚ how Stan & Ford give (and react to) hickeys .ᐟ

a/n: HII and OMG thank you so much!!! anon, you are a gift to this world, that's so sweet from ur side <333 you have blessed me today especially the fact that you like my writing style ahgghhgg :'))) i hope it's ok that i made some parts nsfw here tho especially with Ford sorry i just really loved that idea and i wanted to write smth intimate with kisses & marking for a while

tags: nsfw (for Ford's part), suggestive, lots of kissing, hickeys

STANLEY / YOU RECEIVING

Stan’s logic is simple. you can’t just walk away without leaving a mark on someone you care about. otherwise, who’s even gonna know that this person belongs to you?

he’s always been a greedy man. greedy for money, for booze, for a good card game. but lately, he’s started realizing that none of that compares to the greed he feels for you

it’s the same every evening now, because every day, Stan and you spend time together. and every day, Stan hates one thing. dropping you off at home. you’re already about to leave his car, stretching sleepily in the passenger seat, yawning loudly and mumbling about how tired you are.

car radio crackles softly with the evening news, but that doesn’t matter anymore. at least, not to Stan.

“c'mon, don't just leave like that, baby.” in the quiet summer air, his rough voice sounds especially low. you smirk, but you don’t even get the chance to say anything before his heavy hand lands on your thigh. “come on, sugar, just one little kiss.”

his breath brushes your cheek, and that’s all it takes for you to give in. your lips meet in a soft touch, but only for a second. because Stanley Pines doesn’t kiss soft or gentle.

he leans in deeper, firmer, catches your breath and pulls you in greedily. his dry lips are insistent, rough, but hot, warm, too impatient. his tongue slides past your lips, finds yours, demands more, demands you meet him with the same hunger. you sink into the kiss like into warm bathwater, the one you’d planned to take after this long day, you drown in this man who holds you like he's never letting go.

suddenly, he grabs you and before you know it, you’re on his lap, wrapping legs wrap around him. Stan grins, keeping you exactly where he loves you best. right in his hands. the car seat creaks under your weight, but neither of you care.

“you taste so good, fuck, i don’t wanna let you go.” his tongue teases yours again, and you can’t help the whimper that escapes you. his hands are fully on your body now, squeezing, pulling you tighter against him. “sweetheart, don’t go home. stay with me.”

oh, here we go again, you think. you love when he starts begging you to stay.

you smile into the kiss, biting his bottom lip gently, making him groan, and Stan grips your thighs tighter in response.

“i don’t wanna let you go.”

you try to pull back, placing your hands against his chest, but he only grips you harder, pressing you down against him until you nearly gasp. “Stan—“

“no, listen,” he bites your lip but doesn’t pull away as he speaks right against your mouth, slipping into a whisper. “stay with me. move in with me, baby.”

“but i’ll be back soon, Stan.”

“not soon enough.” he catches your lips again, but this time, it’s deeper and desperate. it’s hard to breathe and your head spins, but you don’t want him to stop, because fuck, nobody kisses like Stan does. his lips trail downward, leaving hot kisses against your neck, tongue sliding slowly over that one sensitive spot, and you feel your tired body melt.

“you could stay, you know?”

you smile again but don’t say anything.

and Stan can’t stand the silence so he bites your neck, kisses over the mark his teeth leave behind, then finds your lips again.

“tell me you’ll stay with me, baby,”

you stroke his cheek, tracing your thumb over his lower lip, then pull him in again.

“i will. someday. probably.”

Stan growls and kisses you senseless again until your head spins, until it really feels like you’ll stay with him forever.

he doesn’t want to be alone.

he doesn’t want to end up in an empty shack again, where the walls still echo your laughter and the pillow still holds the warmth of your body.

he doesn’t want to fall asleep by himself, knowing you’re not there.

he doesn’t want to smoke at night alone without you by his side.

he wants you.

every night. every day. Stan wants you beside him, wants you waking up in his bed, wants to watch you before he falls asleep, wants to kiss you every morning without letting you leave his arms.

his teeth sink into your skin as he sucks your flesh between his lips until you’re gripping his shoulders. the hot, wet sensation leaves you gasping and breathless until he finally pulls back to admire his work.

a dark mark blooms on your skin, his mark. Stan smirks, running his fingers over the bruise, then looks at you all proud of himself.

“now everyone will know ya belong to me.”

you chuckle.

“dummy, they already know.”

he laughs, kissing you again. and if he didn’t have to let you go, he never would

YOU GIVING:

Stan stands slouched, as always. leaning against the counter, one hand gripping a can of soda, the other pressing his phone to his ear, muttering something, clearly irritated and not particularly attentive. you hear him sigh, stretching out his words with lazy annoyance.

“whaddya mean a whole damn bus?”

oh, looks like your lovely grumpy man isn’t in the mood today. normally, a whole bus packed with walking wallets would make his whole day.

Stan rolls his eyes, taking a long swig of his soda, obviously trying not to lose it because of a dumb person talking to him. youre beside him, leaning against his shoulder, tracing your fingers over his arm, but he just presses his lips together a little tighter.

his attention isn’t on you.

unacceptable.

at first, you just brush your lips against his cheek. a light kiss that’s barely even there. Stan doesn’t even flinch, just waves you off slightly with his hand, signaling you to quit distracting him.

you hum

fine then

you kiss him again, this time closer to his ear

“mhm?”

Stan doesn’t even turn.

he thinks he can ignore you. how cute. guess it’s time to step up your game.

you lean in a little more, trailing your lips toward his neck, first just barely ghosting over his skin, inhaling the sharp scent of his favourite cigars.

and then you latch onto his neck. deep. maybe too deep.

“the hell?”

he nearly chokes on his soda. no, seriously. he full-on sputters, gasps sharply, coughs, and you hear his caller immediately start asking

“mr. Pines? hello? you alright, sir?”

no. he is not alright. he is losing his goddamn mind.

“shit, hold on.”

he tries to say something, but you don’t let him, sucking harder, teasing him just a little with your tongue, and you feel his whole body tenses.

“sweetheart, baby, c’mon,”

Stan exhales roughly, but he doesn’t pull away. in fact, his fingers suddenly tangle in your hair, gripping the back of your head, forcing you even closer.

“mr. Pines? are you still there?”

Stan instantly hangs up. fuck the tourist crowds, fuck the tours, fuck the money, he already has a treasure right in front of him, demanding his attention.

you hear the dull thud of his phone hitting the counter, and a second later, Stan is already gripping your chin, tilting your face up, forcing you to look at him.

“you tryna kill me, sweetie?”

his brows furrowed, lips parted. you see his chest rise and fall in quick breaths as he licks his lips nervously.

“you just— you just gave me a fuckin’ hickey while i was on the damn phone.”

he stares at you, completely dumbfounded. but not even a minute goes by as you see the slow curl of a smirk tugging at the corners of his mouth.

“god, you’re a naughty little thing, huh.” before you can even think of a response, his mouth is on yours.

it's more like an attack than a kiss honestly. Stan’s huge hands grab at your waist, yanking you against him, while his tongue immediately slides into your mouth, and you drown in this, tasting your man, soda, cigarette smoke. he kisses you like he’s starving, insistent, until your toes curl from the intensity.

“that was mean,” he licks your lips before diving back in. “real fuckin’ mean.”

you smile into the kiss, letting your hands wander over his chest, feeling the way his muscles tense under his clothes.

“didn’t hear you complain.”

“oh, i ain’t complainin’, sweetheart. just sayin’ now you’re in trouble.” you don’t even get the chance to reply, because he’s kissing you again

STANFORD / YOU GIVING

Ford Pines has one very dangerous trait, he endures. he endures when you look at him too closely, endures when you accidentally run your hand over his chest, endures when you bite your lip teasingly.

he endures until he’s on the edge. and today, it looks like you’ve pushed him right to it.

from the feeling of you sitting on his lap, Ford trembles beneath you. he’s sprawled in the chair, legs spread wide and awkward, as if trying to somehow hide what’s going on in his pants.

and it definitely doesn’t help that you’re leaning closer, pressing your thighs against him, cupping his face in your hands while his mouth is slightly open, while he, poor thing, is trying to keep up with you but just can’t. he’s pathetic, so pathetic that he can’t even kiss you back. his lips just part under yours, his tongue only follows your lead. such a good boy. so submissive, obedient. Ford can’t give, he can only receive for now

and you take full advantage of that.

“mmmh, wait,” his voice betrays him, trembling, but you don’t give him a chance to finish. your lips greedily cover his, kissing him demandingly. you press closer, catching that shaky breath when your tongue slides inside his mouth.

your fingers tangle in his hair, teasingly scratching his skin with your nails, feeling how he shudders. poor, poor Fordsy. his hands weakly clench on your back, trying to hold onto you, but even that he fails at.

but the worst thing is that hes already at his limit. this pressure, this hunger, your weight on him, your breath, your voice, your desire, all directed at him, is more than enough.

“you like this, huh?” your voice seeps straight into his already non-functioning brain. and he shivers when your lips trail down to his neck. “you like when i treat you like this. when i use you.”

Ford wants to beg to you to slow down, because his pants are so tight that just a little more and. . . fuck, he doesn’t want to cum like this. a scientist who fought for his life in other dimensions for thirty years shouldn’t cum from just kissing. but instead, he just whimpers, because your body rocks against him in gentle movements, just a little, just a bit of friction, but for Ford, it’s enough.

he won’t last.

“wait, darling, wait,” his fingers clutch at your clothes, and he literally whines when you catch his sensitive skin with your lips, finding that sweet spot and latching on, tormenting him.

and Ford can’t fight his own body, so with a long, drawn-out moan, he cums. he fucking cums in his pants just from a hickey.

his thighs twitch, and his limp body involuntarily presses into you. he literally surrenders to you, spilling right into his clothes.

and at first, he doesn’t even understand how it happened. Ford thinks this is fucking humiliating, a goddamn disgrace. he didn’t even need you to touch him, you were just on him, just breathing on his neck, and that was enough to make him cum like some desperate teenager. Ford lets out a pitiful whine, feeling the wetness slowly seep through the fabric as the stickiness clings to his skin down here.

and in turn, you feel it too, how it’s gotten warmer between you.

he’s ashamed. so fucking ashamed. but you only laugh.

“awwwh, Ford, you really are pathetic, huh?” you say it so affectionately, kissing his cheek as he turns away in shame. his cheeks and ears are flushed red, breath still heavy. six fingered hands, which had just been holding onto you, now hang limply at his sides.

Ford agrees with you. he knows you're right

YOU RECEIVING

this man is not okay.

he endured. endured for a long time. bit his fingers, looked away, pretended he had strong moral principles. pretended your jokes didn't get to him, your touches, the way you fix your hair, the way your lips are just a little wet after drinking from his flask.

but his patience ran out. and he was the first to snap.

Ford grabbed your wrist when you laughed again, saying something about his indecisiveness. he yanked you toward him and you didn’t expect it, so you stumbled, but didn’t fall, because his hands were already holding you.

your back hit the trunk of a tree, and you almost gasped, because the ground beneath your feet was damp, too slick, the morning rain had made the forest's ground soft, muddy, sticky. Ford’s boots sank into the soil, and you accidentally stepped on his foot so hard that you could hear the wet squelch of his soaked pants.

“oh, sorry,” you exhaled, trying to pull away, but he didn’t even let you say another word.

Ford wasn’t mad. he just didn’t give a fuck that’s why he leaned in and kissed you deeply, immediately, no words needed.

and that made you lean back a little. the damp spring air in your lungs instantly turned hot, sending waves of fluttering butterflies straight to your stomach.

Ford always kept himself in check. always tried to be rational, serious, careful. but now, with your lips finally pressed together and his body finally flush against yours, he didn’t want to hold back anymore

“mmh, Ford,” you pull away just slightly, trying to catch your breath, but he grabs your waist instantly

“you're not going anywhere,” he murmurs against your lips, and you let out a breathy laugh.

“yep, not if you hold me like this.”

he's gentle, but greedy and you're pliant, but still sharp.

“we’re alone, finally, we’re alone, sweetheart,” he breathes into your lips. six fingers press into your back trying to pull you even closer. “no one can see us. no one can stop me.” you try to squeeze your legs together from the sweetness pooling low in your stomach, but Ford has his knee right between them.

“Ford. . .”

“say my name again.”

six-fingered hands glide down your sides, and his lips are already moving lower, grazing your chin and your neck. you don’t even notice when your fingers bury themselves in his hair, when they run through damp, graying strands. you stroke him like he’s your obedient little pet and he groans at that.

“Forddd, mhmm,”

“you drive me insane," his lips find the spot just behind your ear

“really?” you tease again. “and here i thought we came here for anomalies.”

Ford almost growls. “we did.” his tongue drags over your skin. “and i found one.”

then happens something you never expected from your always shy and nerdy man. your eyes widen when you feel him gently tug at your skin. the first mark is left right by your collarbone. second is lower, near your shoulder and third is somewhere behind your ear, where you’re especially sensitive.

you shudder. “mh, Ford, wow, you really—“

“you wanted to tease me,” his voice is muffled, but you can feel his smirk against your skin. “now, my love, suffer the consequences.”

he holds you so tight you almost forget where you are. the forest, the mud, the interrupted anomaly hunt, none of it matters anymore

[delilahsturniolo]

— ୨୧ sports car . . . m.s

in which . . . you couldn’t wait until you and matt got home

warnings . . . smut, fingering in a moving car, teasing, use of pet names, dirty talk, degradation, cursing, dom!matt, public sex? (sorta)

written by @delilahsturniolo. do not copy, steal, or modify my works. if you are taking any inspiration from this, please ask me first before posting and credit me in your description. happy reading! :)

SO CLOSE TO WHAT WRITING MARATHON . . . fic #7

matt gripped the steering wheel tightly, the car ride was silent. the moon was bright lit in the night sky. you sighed heavily, your gaze focused outside to car window. you and matt were driving home from a restaurant, the both of you had a nice, casual dinner to end off the night.

you turned your head, looking over at matt as his eyes were focused on the road. fuck, he looked so good right now. his slightly disheveled brown hair that fell over his forehead effortlessly, his perfectly placed rings on his fingers, the way he held the steering wheel, it honestly made you as aroused as ever. you wanted to say something, you wanted to tell matt how much you absolutely needed him in this moment, it was eating you up inside. you could feel your absolutely soaked panties beneath your skirt, shit. you crossed your legs, trying to be discreet about your neediness.

matt noticed this, how uneasy you seemed to look. he turned his head to take a quick glance at you, raising his eyebrows at you before looking at the road again. “you okay?” he asked, you slightly adjusted your posture, letting out a small “mhm” at his question. “no you’re not.” matt scoffed, looking at you again. “what’s wrong?” matt asked once more, his tone more concerned this time. fuck, you knew you couldn’t get out of this, not even by lying.

“matt—i need you..” you blurted out, matt smirked slightly. “yeah? and why can’t you be patient and wait till’ we get home?” matt teased, knowing damn well how horny you were in this moment. it was torture, he always teased you a little extra when you got like this. “matt! i can’t wait…i need you now..” you begged, rubbing your legs together slightly.

“i’m driving, sweetheart.” matt hummed lowly, it was like he was barely even paying attention to you at all. “so?” you scoffed, you didn’t care one bit, you needed his touch, some sort of satisfaction. matt smirked, placing his hand on your inner thigh, lifting your skirt slightly, his touch tender but teasing. you could feel the metal of his rings against your bare skin.

matt stopped the car at a red light, which reflected on both of your faces. “needy girl, huh? so fuckin’ impatient.” matt rolled his eyes, his thumb hooking around the waistband on your underwear and slowly sliding it off of you with ease, all you could do was whimper in response to his words and his touch.

“spread your legs f’me.” matt spoke, his voice laced with lust and dominance. you didn’t hesitate to obey his commands, spreading your knees apart and revealing your soaking wet cunt. matt groaned at the sight, teasing your wet folds with his fingers. you gasped, arching your back against the car seat.

the light turned green, matt accelerated the car. “fucking take it, you asked for this.” matt’s fingers pushed into you, you let out a breathless moan, your hand wrapping around his wrist as his fingers collected your slick, thrusting in and out of you mercilessly.

matt didn’t bat you an eye as he touched you, his fingers working on your swollen clit, he made sure you felt everything. “fuuckk, so…so wet..” matt groaned, he focused on the road, it was hard for him to do so, though. he listened to your desperate moans and whimpers, feeling himself getting hard just by hearing you, and feeling your pussy clench around him.

“gonna—gonna cum..” you moaned, throwing your head back against the headrest of the passenger seat as your orgasm came crashing over you, your legs shaking harshly as you came all over matt’s fingers. matt pulled his fingers away from you, sucking them clean as he continued to drive.

“mmm, we ain’t done sweetheart, just wait till we get home.”

© delilahsturniolo do not copy, re use, or modify any of my works.

taglist

a/n 💌: i’m sorryyy this is so late, i have a high fever rn so i had to force myself to lock in and write this, so if it seems rushed, that’s because it was 😭😭

[sturnslutz]

can’t get over you.

angst, longing, exes, making out, ASSHOLE CHRIS ASF. this is a LONG ONE. sorry ab the spam of fics lol tryna get these out my drafts

you didn’t plan on seeing chris tonight. actually, you’ve spent the last six months actively avoiding him. which is hard as fuck when you share the same friend group, live in the same city, and, on nights like this, end up at the same parties.

you’re on your second drink, posted up in the corner of the kitchen, when you feel it. that all-too-familiar weight of his stare, heavy even from across the room. you don’t have to look to know he’s watching you. you can feel it, like a ghost of a touch down your spine.

fuck.

it’s not like you’re over him. no, if you were over him, you wouldn’t still hear his voice in your head when certain songs play. you wouldn’t still type out texts just to delete them. you wouldn’t feel the way you do now—like your entire body is on high alert just from knowing he’s here.

“he keeps looking over here,” your friend alyssa says, sipping her drink.

you roll your eyes. “don’t care.”

she snorts. “right.”

you distract yourself by talking to other people, laughing too loudly, sipping your drink too fast. but none of it matters, not when every nerve in your body is connected to him.

you feel him before you see him, that stupid mix of vanilla and something woody hitting your senses as he steps up behind you.

“hey.”

his voice is low, rough, and it’s unfair how much it still affects you. you turn slowly, meeting his gaze. his hair’s a little longer now, the curls messier. he looks good. too good.

“hey.” you say, keeping your tone even.

“you been good?”

“mhm.” you take a sip of your drink. “real good.” you don’t miss the way his jaw clenches at that. good. let him feel it. let him wonder.

“can we talk?” he asks, leaning in a little closer.

you sigh, glancing at him. you should say no. you should tell him to fuck off and go back to whatever girl he’s been keeping busy with. but you don’t.

“fine.”

he leads you outside, the night air cool against your skin. the party hums behind you, muffled laughter and music spilling out from the house.

“you really been good?” he asks, softer this time.

you swallow. “why do you care?”

he exhales sharply. “you know why.”

you cross your arms. “do i?”

he steps closer, close enough that you can see the way his brows furrow, the way his throat bobs when he swallows. “i fucked up.” you scoff. “yeah. no shit.”

“i miss you.”

you shake your head, looking away. “you don’t get to say that. not after everything.”

he runs a hand through his hair, frustrated. “i know. i just—fuck, i don’t know how to do this. i don’t know how to be around you and not—” he stops, breathing heavily.

your throat feels tight. “not what?”

his eyes flicker to your lips, then back to your eyes. “not want you.”

your breath catches. because, fuck, you feel it too.

you hate him. you love him. you don’t know where one feeling ends and the other begins. but when he steps even closer, when his fingers brush against yours, when his lips part like he’s waiting for you to push him away. you don’t.

instead, you grab the front of his hoodie and pull him down, crashing your lips against his.

it’s messy, desperate. teeth and tongue and months of unresolved tension spilling out all at once. his hands find your waist, gripping tight like he’s scared you’ll disappear. you fist his hoodie, pulling him impossibly closer, losing yourself in the way he feels, the way he tastes—like mint and regret and something unmistakably him.

he presses you against the wall, deepening the kiss, one hand sliding up your back, the other cupping your jaw. it’s too much. it’s not enough.

when you finally break apart, panting, foreheads touching, his hands still gripping your waist like he’s afraid to let go, he whispers, “tell me you don’t feel it.”

you squeeze your eyes shut. “fuck you.”

he huffs out a breath that sounds almost like a laugh. “yeah. that’s what i thought.”

-a couple weeks later.-

you’re at another party, trying too hard to have fun.

chris is here. of course he is.

he’s across the room, laughing at something one of his friends said. his arm is draped over the back of some girl’s chair, his head tilted close to hers as they talk.

it shouldn’t bother you. but it does.

you turn away, lifting your drink to your lips, but it doesn’t burn enough to make you forget.

alyssa nudges you. “you good?” “yup,” you lie. she follows your gaze, then sighs. “you don’t have to do this, you know.”

“do what?” “act like it doesn’t bother you.” you scoff. “it doesn’t.”

“right.”

before you can argue, someone slides up next to you, hand ghosting over your lower back. “hey,” he says smoothly. “haven’t seen you around much.”

you turn, recognizing him instantly. ryan. you’d hooked up once, months ago, in a haze of bad decisions and too much liquor.

he smirks. “wanna change that?” you should say no.

but chris is still across the room, and his hand is still on that girl’s chair, and you’re tired of feeling like you’re losing a game you never agreed to play.

so you force a smile. “why not?”

you let ryan pull you onto the dance floor, let him put his hands on your hips, let him lean in too close. but you don’t feel anything.

not even when his lips brush against your ear, murmuring something you don’t quite hear over the music.

because all you can think about is him.

and judging by the way chris is suddenly staring at you like he wants to murder ryan where he stands, he’s thinking about you too.

ryan’s hands are on your hips, his breath warm against your ear as he leans in to whisper something. you barely hear him, too focused on the way chris is staring at you from across the room.

his jaw is clenched, his grip tight around the red solo cup in his hand. the girl he’s with—taylor, tiffany, something with a t—is talking, but he’s not listening. his eyes are locked on you, sharp and unreadable.

good. let him watch.

you press closer to ryan, tilting your head just enough to make it obvious. you don’t even like ryan, but right now, that doesn’t matter.

chris moves before you even have time to register it. one second, he’s across the room, the next, he’s right next to you, yanking ryan’s hand off your waist.

“dude,” ryan starts, brows furrowing. “what the fuck?” “don’t touch her,” chris says flatly.

you blink. “excuse me?”

he ignores you, staring ryan down like he’s ready to swing.

ryan scoffs. “last i checked, you don’t get to say shit about what she does.” chris’s jaw tightens.

he’s right. chris doesn’t get to say shit. he lost that privilege the second he let you go.

but that doesn’t stop him from acting like he still owns you.

he looks at you now, gaze dark. “we need to talk. you laugh, shaking your head. “nah, i’m good.”

he steps closer. “y/n.”

“chris.” you mimic his tone. “go back to your little blonde or whatever. i’m busy.”

his lip curls. “oh yeah? this what we’re doing now? throwing ourselves at other people to prove a point?” rage flares in your chest. the fucking audacity.

“funny,” you say. “that’s your move, not mine.”

he huffs a humorless laugh. “right. because you’re just so much better than me, huh?”

“yeah,” you snap. “i am.”

he exhales sharply, shaking his head like he’s trying to hold back something mean. but then he lets it slip anyway.

“you look desperate, y/n.”

it hits you harder than it should.

maybe because it’s coming from him. maybe because, deep down, you’re terrified he’s right. you keep your expression blank, refusing to let him see how much he affects you. “fuck you, chris.”

he shrugs, taking a step back. “already did.”

you inhale sharply.

asshole. fucking asshole.

ryan looks between the two of you, clearly debating if getting in the middle of this is worth it. in the end, he just mutters something under his breath and walks away. you don’t stop him. but chris does.

“yeah, that’s what i thought,” he mutters, watching ryan disappear into the crowd.

you glare at him. “you done?” he scoffs. “not even close.”

you roll your eyes and turn to leave, but he grabs your wrist, pulling you toward the hallway where it’s quieter.

“let me go,” you say, voice low. he does. immediately. like he’s just realizing he touched you without thinking. but he doesn’t step away.

“what the fuck do you want?” you snap. he runs a hand through his hair, frustrated. “i don’t know.” “try harder.”

he looks at you then, really looks at you, and you hate the way your stomach flips.

“i fucking hate this,” he mutters.

“hate what?”

“seeing you with someone else.”

you exhale slowly. “you don’t get to be jealous, chris.” he clenches his jaw. “i know.”

but he is.

so you push him.

“hurts, doesn’t it?” you say, voice softer now. “watching someone else touch me? knowing you can’t do anything about it?”

his eyes darken. “you think i can’t?”

“you can’t,” you whisper. “because you lost me. you fucked up. you let me go.”

he swallows hard, gaze flickering down to your lips. “yeah,” he murmurs. “biggest fucking mistake of my life.”

for a second, neither of you move.

then, suddenly, his hands are on your face, and his lips crash against yours. it’s rough, angry, desperate. like he’s trying to remind you of everything you had. everything you lost.

like he’s trying to make you forget why you ever walked away in the first place. and for a second, you let him.

for a second, you kiss him back just as hard. but then reality slams into you, and you shove him away.

his chest rises and falls, eyes wild as he searches your face.

you wipe your lips with the back of your hand. “fuck you.”

he smirks. “you just did.”

you shake your head, turning to walk away, but his voice stops you.

“you’re mine, y/n,” he says, voice dark. “no matter how much you pretend otherwise. and you know you’ll always come running back to me. stop being stupid, and recognize it.”

you don’t look back.

because you’re afraid he’s right.

a/n- if ur mad i posted 3 fics in one day IDC. its bc i want to, its my acc, and anyways i lowk cant write tm rn so its just drafts !!!

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