#RIDE IT LIKE HYDRAULICS

[theold-ultraviolence]

The amount of times I’ve listened to Tyrant by Beyoncé today is something between me and god

#need this song injected in my mentally ill brain cell and it will cure me #also I read an interpretation of it that it implies this song is about bisexuality and i’m like #oh my fucking god? #no but #the lyric says #SHE’S A TYRANT EVERY TIME I RIDE IT #TRY TO JUSTIFY IT #RIDE IT LIKE HYDRAULICS #I DON’T SIDE UP IN THE SADDLE BOY I GOT IT #OH W O W #YES I SEE THE VISION??? #i don’t sit up in the saddle*

[cherry-leclerc]

million dollar man ☆ toto wolff

genre: age gap, porn with plot, angst, mentions of drugs, tragedy, erotic literature, mentions of homicide, bits of humor, child neglection, divorced!toto

word count: 16.5k

Toto Wolff, self-made billionaire, is on cloud nine; he has all he’s ever wanted. A beautiful wife, family, a great team. But when that starts slipping from his fingers, he desperately tries to keep hold of what is not his anymore. As a possible solution to cure his blues, Lewis kindly invites him to a place he runs off to when times get tough; to relieve some stress. But he just never expected a cosplaying angel, dancing around a metal pole, to be his salvation. And also, his cruelest life lesson. 

nsfw warning under the cut! 

18+…dry humping/ thigh riding, sexual tension, penetrative sex, oral sex (m!receiving f!receiving), size kink, breeding kink, praise, foreplay, riding

inspired by this and this !

STOP AND READ:

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“You up for Vegas?”

-

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

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

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

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

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

“Yeah?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Exactly why.”

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

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

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

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

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

Yayo.

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

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

Let me put on a show for you, daddy. 

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

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

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

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

Toto blinks. “She might be my favorite.”

-

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

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

“Where do you want me?”

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

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

“Oh, right. Um…”

You grin. “First time?”

He winces. “It was a friend's idea.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

He sighs. “Maybe I was changing.”

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

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

“It fucking sucks.”

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

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

-

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

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

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

“Correct.”

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

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

-

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

Tap tap. 

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

"Warten! Warten!"

“Huh?”

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

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

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

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

“Oh, wow… I, umm… You’re welcome?”

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

-

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

He smiles. “It’s from Germany.”

“Authentic. How’d you get it?”

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

“Let’s just leave it at old.”

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

“I’m glad I was able to help.”

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

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

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

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

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

“What happened?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

-

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

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

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

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

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

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

“I always am.”

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

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

“I wanted to see you.”

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

“Why?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Huh? Similar…that’s funny.”

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

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

“Oh, trust me, I did.”

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

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

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

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

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

“Can I take you home?”

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

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

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

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

“6’5.” 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“I am not acting like a child—”

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

“Excuse me?”

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

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

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

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

“But my things—”

“I’ll send for them.”

“My downpayment—”

“I’ll take care of it.”

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

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

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

-

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

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

Elizabeth gasps. “And you.”

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

“Of course. Take care, Toto.”

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

“You look tired.”

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

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

“See what?”

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

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

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

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

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

“I do mind. I mind a lot.”

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

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

“Wanna feel something nice?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

-

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

“That’s a dumb question.”

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

“No.”

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

“Tempting, but still no.”

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

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

“He said yes.”

“The car talks now?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Hey!”

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

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

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

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

“Really?”

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

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

-

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

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

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

“I’m being serious.”

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

“I would take you—”

“But you’re busy— it’s fine.”

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

“Are you fucking with me?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

“What are you doing here?” 

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

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

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

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

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

“Very.”

“Actually, I am too.”

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

“Is money the issue here?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

You gasp. “Are you insane?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Wait!”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

-

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

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

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

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

“Is it that obvious?”

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

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

“Do you need something?”

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

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

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

“What did you do?”

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

“What do you mean?”

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

He sighs. “Please do.”

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

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

“He what?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

You gasp. “I would murder him.”

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

“Nope.” 

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

-

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

You’re going to miss me, watch.

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

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

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

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

“Is that so?”

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

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

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

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

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

“Oh shit.”

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

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

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

“Don’t worry. Can you get me a room?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“I’m not lying—”

“Really?”

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

“I never saw anything.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

“No.” 

She clicks her tongue. “Are you sure?”

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

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

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

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

-

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

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

“That doesn’t matter—what’s wrong?”

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

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

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

“What else did she say?”

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

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

“I swear that’s all.”

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

“I’m not telling you.”

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

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

“Who did this to you?”

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

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

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

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

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

“But—”

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

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

“Why?”

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

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

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

“What, sweetheart?”

Gloomy eyes reflect against his own. “Leave?”

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

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

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

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

“I’ll walk you through it.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Your lips curl. “No idea.”

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

“Are you on birth control?”

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

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

Confusion paints your face. “To have you?”

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

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

“There it is.” 

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

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

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

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

“Toto, Toto, Toto—”

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

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

“Looking good, Mr. Wolff.” 

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

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

“I love you, Toto Wolff.”

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

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

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

“Uh…” Your lips stretch out. “Yes.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

-

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

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

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

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

You’d be a fool to deny. 

So, you accept. 

-

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

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

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

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

“I’m not quitting.”

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

More heavy silence. “Sure.”

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

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

“I’m taking the car. See you later.”

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

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

We should think about Jack.

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

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

I love you. 

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

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

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

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

“Yes.”

“Great! Where is she?”

“Around.” 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

But this is strange.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

And he deserves it…you think.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Toto Wolff was just the same.

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

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

You’re screwed up and brilliant. 

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

Look like a million dollar man.

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

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

So why is my heart broke?

“I’ll regret you for the rest of my—”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

#toto wolff #toto wolff smut #toto wolff angst #toto wolff blurb #toto wolff fluff #toto wolff imagine #toto wolff x reader #toto wolff x you #toto wolff x y/n #toto wolff x oc #f1 #f1 imagine #f1 x reader #f1 smut #f1 fic #f1 fanfic #formula 1 #formula one #f1 x female reader #f1 x y/n #f1 x oc #f1 x you #formula one x reader #formula one x you #mercedes amg f1 #formula one x y/n #formula one x oc

[sixosix]

*comes in riding on horse with only 2 legs* heyy i have another one

(from this line)

im gonna rant no no no you WILL listen u got no choice, strap down. like i wanna kiss him so bad rthis is not ebven funy anybmore uueeeuueue ue ueue like i matched w him on tcg today and hes so fuckingf flirty like bro WHAT ARE WE???!!?!?!!?!? bro got me distracted the whole game. he would be the worst uno opponent fr. he throws u with a 'eyes on the cards dear, not on me~' and im throwing my cards out the window and make out w him ONG. these cards on my ass cheeks wont be the only ones clenched today fr. like if he puts down a +4 i wont even be mad bc it would only make the match longer meanign i can look at his gorgeous beautivful lavender amethyst eyes longer and mbhjbnjnmMKKFMGFGMF

(also, Bad by Wave to Earth and Cherry Wine by grentperez is so lyney coded)

an extra bc u make the best fics<33

reader bc shes's also whipped but wont admit it bc she believes she got bigger balls (me fr)

My jaw is on the floor akagi youre a godsend. 1)ITTLE LYNEY IS SO CUTE I WANT TO PINCH HIM SO BAD i need to eat him like that kirby gif to watermelons or put him under a hydraulic press and watch him epxplode to bits i want to BITE HIM. THE SPARKLES. OHH MYTYT HES SO CUTE.

2) GROWN UP LYNEY im thinking horrible thougjts Bye if he looked at me like that…… HOW DID READER NOT FOLD. (me asking as if im not the one writing). WOOWOWOW your lyney is actually so perfect youre my lyney artist you do little lyney and present lyney so well im goign to cry. HES SO MAJESTIC YOURE RIGHT

its like you looked into my brain and drew what was in my head line to line. youre insane…

THE TCG LMFAOOO YOURE SO RIGHT im gonna be so honest i beat him and got all three cards first try but still i played three more times because i wanted to hear him keep talking……. Ive seen comments about how hes saying that to make us lower our guard and its working so well if i was up against him irl id swipe away the cards and jjst pounce him

i havent heard those songs yet but ill go give them a listen rn :D

READER AWWWWHHHRHRBR YOUR VER OF READER IS SO FAWKING CUTEEEE EE AAAAAAAAAAA SHES SO ME…. shes me……and aether ijbol. HE SSO CUTE

#I LOVE YO #606: THAWED #606: akagi0021

[stillalivedcingscience]

I honestly do get surprised that there isn’t more objectum love for heavy construction machines

again maybe I just reached max exposure limit early on and it did things to my brain, but

do you guys have any idea how graceful and silent tower cranes actually are? It’s majestic

did you know that when dump trucks carry asphalt as a load and it’s raining and the tarp is up, steam will billow off their backs? Did you know that their polished paint makes raindrops bead which will reflect the light from their turn signals beautifully?

did you know that tracked machines are actually hella bumpy to ride around in? It’s like a carnival ride

the interior or big truck’s sleepers are plush. They’re built to cuddle

big (really big) hydraulic machines make ethereal noises when they move

did you know that hydraulic lines twitch and jump when they’re activated and make a clicking noise?

did you know, that before the engine of a semi cranks, he makes a little clicky noise at you, click, click, click?

because you should know these things, and more. I could go on

#Objectum #things you guys should know

[callsign-relic]

YAYY! i caught your requesting time :D♡

If it's not too much i'd like to request IDW Pharma (gotta love crazy doc) first contact au with female human reader where she gets caught and he goes to study perhaps every little detail on the human physiology since she is such a interesting lil creature. You know like how the little hair on her arms stand when frightened or how the human pupils adjust to light every milisecond and details in humans in general like that. <3

Also could be a little horror-themed for the human reader since halloween is near :]❤️ you can write it in anything like a story or drabble or headcanons any you feel like writing since i'm not really sure about the differences sorry! :(

Thank you so so much for letting me request <333❤️❤️❤️

Hi!!! I’m so happy to write this for you! Thank you for being my first Pharma request, it was fun to learn how to write this evil man >:) also I must say, your art is beautiful, I love it so much!!! I’m honored to have received a request from you <3

Lowkey might write a sequel for this myself honestly HAGSHAHA

Warnings: Suggestive (towards the end, otherwise SFW), First Contact AU, Fem!Human!Reader

“Now, what have we here…?”

The warmth and humidity of his breath washes over you with every incomprehensible word as you dangle before the doctor’s face, his forefinger and thumb clinging to the scruff of your shirt as a grin you could only describe as sinister spreads across his faceplate.

“A little pest, it seems, has scurried its way out of its burrow. A human,” he hums, pulling closer towards his face. “Never understood the appeal of these fleshy little organics. But, seeing as I have the opportunity…”

Your world suddenly shakes, and Pharma shifts his fingers from above you to curl in from behind, pulling you up from a dangle and into a loose fist. You can hear the sound of his joint hydraulics as his blue digits curl around you protectively, but as you’re brought down to his chest, he doesn’t seem to make note of how the natural sway of his walk throws you about. You have to cling to his curled fingers to maintain some semblance of balance, and even then, his fingers twitch and shift at your touch, making the ride all the more unstable.

Eventually, Pharma crosses the room, and you arrive at a medical slab that is all too large for your tiny body. He places you down at the head— well, he might as well have thrown you— and he turns his back to you to face a rolling table resting the side.

Now that he was looking away, this was your chance. Despite the pains that stung all over, you scramble to your feet, whipping your head around to try and see if there was some way out of here.

The medical slab was like a football field of cool grey stainless steel, maybe even bigger, that much is clear from how long it took you to walk from the center of the top to the edge of the side. You could see the bot-sized door at the end of the room, but unless the physical sensors would pick up your human body, that might as well have been another wall. Your best bet was to look on the ground, maybe you could find some crack in the wall or in the floor you could squeeze yourself into—

“Ah, ah, ah.”

A sudden weight forces itself onto your shoulders from behind, and you’re pushed face forwards onto the slab. Sucking air in through your teeth, you manage to turn your head, and all you can see is the massive length of Pharma’s arm as he pins you down with a fingertip pressing down on either of your shoulders.

“When did I say you could get up?”

The weight of his fingers suddenly releases itself, but you don’t have a moment to breathe before his fingers move down to your foot, pinching them once again and lifting you till you’re upside down. You quickly tug down at your shirt, but as the world moves around you in a nauseating blur, you can barely manage to keep your eyes open as the medic carries you back to the center, as if you were light as a feather.

“Pesky little thing,” you hear above you with a scoff.

You’re flipped onto your back, but before you can make another move to get up, another pressure lands upon you— on your chest, this time. A cool metal rod, made of the same steel as the slab you laid upon, if you had to assume. The weight isn’t enough to crush your lungs, thankfully, but you certainly do have trouble getting enough air in.

“Just to get you still,” Pharma assures you, and then he leans down from high above to where his face is just about all you can see. The blue light of his optics almost stings your eyes, but there’s not really much else you can look.

“Hm… its pupils react to light in a strange way.” As he goes on, he pulls his head away for just a moment, and you squint as your eyes have to adjust to the overhead light. Then, his face covers the light once more, lowering towards you again. “Dilation, it appears. Interesting…”

You gasp as a sudden coldness shocks your arm, and you look to the side to see Pharma’s fingertip pressed against your forearm. The cold touch of his metal contracted to the warmth of his breath causes you to shiver— and your hair sticks on end as goosebumps spread across your body.

At this, the mech’s eyes widen. “Now, what’s this…?” Slowly, he drags his finger up the length of your arm, feeling each and every one of the little bumps across it. “What could this be a reaction of? A defense mechanism, perhaps? Hm, not that it does anything…”

There’s another flash of blue as the bot pulls his hand away. “Is this sensation only localized in your arms? Or, does the rest of your epidermis share this… reaction?” You eye the medics fingers carefully, watching as they shift down from your arm all the way to your navel. Pharma grabs at end of your shirt, threatening to pull it up and away with ease.

Your heart races as your eyes blow open, and thanks to the sudden rush of adrenaline running through you, you manage to lift your legs high enough to kick his digits away.

“Ack!” The bot hisses, pulling away from you instantly. The weight of the rod upon your chest is lifted for a moment, and you do your best to bring yourself up again— only to be pushed down all the same.

Another scoff echoes from above you, “Fine then, if you want to be so testy. I can explore other parts of you…”

And even though you can’t understand the words emerging from his intake, based on the way a smirk cracks up the side of his faceplate as he runs a finger down your body before it stops at your waist, you have a feeling you’re in for a much longer observation than you wanted.

#relic writes #Transformers first contact AU #tf first contact AU #first contact AU #Transformers #Transformers x reader #MTMTE #mtmte x reader #reader insert #lost light #lost light x reader #pharma #pharma transformers #transformers pharma #tf pharma #pharma mtmte #MTMTE pharma #pharma x reader

[parrythisucasual]

What About Me? Ch. 6

WAHHHH TOOK WAY TOO LONG SORRYSORRYSORRY!!!!

The train cars began clicking forwards, the hydraulics pulling the hunk of metal up the first, the biggest, hill. You felt the familiar surge of anxiety, quickly gripping onto the lapbar. Just at the top of the hill, you glanced at Jax’s face. The typical grin stared back at you.

Then, the cart dropped. Metal roaring and wind rushing past your ears assaulted your senses, the anxiety quickly snapping into exhileration. You squeal in excitement, throwing your hands up. Briefly, you wondered why Jax wasn’t doing the same. On the next hill down, you had a rather sudden urge. Without thinking, you grabbed one of Jax’s hands, the one closest to you, nd lifted it into the air with your own.

You noticed his glance at you out of the corner of your eye, his face unreadable, but not bad. His fingers twitched, clasping your hand tighter than before. You cheered and screamed as the coaster whipped you around, and halfway through the ride Jax joined in the whooping and hollering. 

All too soon, the ride was over. You were giggling, wiggling in your seat as the train pulled back into the launch pad. You glanced at Ja, who was still looking at you, “That was awesome! We should go again!”

“Sure thing, puddin’, re you gonna hold my hand the whole time?” He raised a brow, his grin cocky. You realized you’d never let his hand go, “Oh, geez, sorry!” You let your grip go slack, but his fingers remained intertwined with yours. Confused, you wiggle them a bit, but he still doesn’t let go.

“You don’t gotta let go, you know, it’s chill. We’re about to go again anyways,” he nodded to something behind you. You turn your head, noticing one of the wooden mannequin like beings standing where the rollarcoaster operator did at theme parks. You’d seen others manning the game or food stands, but you hadn’t thought to look for one here. How did you not notice it before?

The wooden doll, which looked exactly like a posing doll for drawing, stared(?) at you, then gave a small wave before the coaster began its ascension up the hill once again. You finally tightened your grip on Jax’s hand again, facing him once more, “I would have expected you’d get upset I grabbed you!” 

“Nah, I just wasn’t expecting it-” The coaster dropped, and you screamed in delight. This time, Jax was the one who raised your clasped hands. You copied, lifting your free hand. He didn’t raise his, however, and remained gripping the lapbar. You wondered why, but didn’t question it just yet. You were too busy screaming! The ride was going!

The second time was just as fun as the first, maybe even better! Having Jax hoot and holler with you the whole time created an amazing experience, and you were glad you’d invited him over this morning.

Jax shouted something to you, but it was incomprehensible over the roaring of the coaster. “WHAT?” You shout back, and he repeats himself, but again, you can’t hear. You’re surprised he heard you, but maybe he just assumed what you said from your single time opening your mouth.

The train of coaster cars pulled back in to the stattion for a second time, then you smile sheepishly, “Sorry… still didn’t hear you…” Jax stands, helping you to your feet using the hand he still had held tight. “I said do you wanna go grab a snack or hit up the teacups?” He laughed, shaking his head slightly.

“Oh, yeah! Teacups should go first though. I don’t have the strongest stomach in the world,” you agree. Jax snorts at you, tugging you along as he descends the stairs that were labeled, “ENTER.” You would have told him he probably shouldn’t, but there wasn’t exactly a line. Besides, he seemed to enjoy being an agent of mild inconvenience. 

He dragged you towards the next ride, “Just don’t puke on me, I’ll make you regret it,” he warned. The threat didn’t bother you. He wasn’t as mean as he liked to pretend to be, you could tell. You didn’t think the others thought that way, though. Maybe Ragatha, but you doubted it.

You pointed to a specific teacup, “That one!” you grinned, “it’s my favorite color.” Jax rolled his eyes, “Leave it to you to pick a cup the baby way.” You stuck your tongue out, “You barely know me, you can’t say that!” you joke.

Still, the two of you slip into the cup. You glance at Jax, “You can let go of my hand now,” you muse, finding it funny he’d still held on. He quickly dropped it, “Right, right. Was seeing how long it took you to say somethin’.” Sure he was. Still, you don’t say anything about it.

This time, you look for the doll managing the ride. Your quickly find it, then give a thumbs up. It remains still for a moment, then slowly lifts a thumbs up. You might have confused it, but the ride starts, so you dismiss it.

Or maybe you can’t, because the next thing Jax says, “Why’d you do that? It’s just and NPC, it’s not alive. It would’ve started the ride anyway.” You shrug, gripping onto the steering wheel and making the cup spin lazily, “I don’t know. I guess I jist thought it deserved to be acknowledged?”

Jax didn’t respond, instead grabbing the wheel like you, meeting the same speed as you. Just making it easier to spin, you guessed. You sat in silence for a few seconds, then remembered how Jax hadn’t let go of the lap bar. You wondered if he was afraid of heights.

A grin slowly spread across your face. It wasn’t height related, but maybe you could mess with him. You gripped the wheel tighter than before and tugged as hard as you could. The teacup jolted, spinning faster and faster as you spun the wheel. Jax hadn’t gotten the memo, not that you told him, and slid backwards, his back smacking against the side of the cup.

“What are you doing-?” He gripped the seat below him to try to hang on, but was tossed onto his side with a loud thud, “SLOW DOWN!!” You laughed maniacally, refusing to slow even a tiny bit, “Nah! Payback time, Bunbun! This is for Gangle!” You whoop.

You kept it spinning until the end of the ride. Giggling, you watched Jax shakily stand up, hurrying off of the ride onto safe, not spinning ground. You follow after him, still grinning. You felt a tiny bit bad, but not enough to regret it, “Hey, sorry- teheheh- Are you okay?” you reach for him, grasping his hand for the second time today.

Jax glances at you, his grin a bit forced, “I’m fine, I’m-” he paused when your fingers interlocked with his once more. He glanced  at you, brows raised. You opened your mouth to apologize, but you heard voices up the path. Your head snapped up, and there stood Ragatha, with Gangle close behind, waving to you.

Her eyes locked on your hands, her smile widening. Jax quickly dropped your hand, standing back up to full height. He didn’t look at you, his attention now entirely fixated on Ragatha. Although, you could have sworn he looked anxious. You hoped you didn’t upset him…

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

Tag list

@jaxtherabbitblog

@dai-tsukki-desu

@luujjvi

@sangoqueenkoko

@shebsvers

@mikusboner

@exhonerd

@lunaramune

@oneiratxxia10

@softangxlicss

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@ridigreedy

@pooplyface1423

#the amazing digital circus #tadc #tadc x reader #jax #tadc jax #jax x reader #the amazing digital circus jax #tadc jax x reader

[texasbama]

Ride it like hydraulics, I am such a tyrant. Every time I ride it, every time I ride it.

I don't like to sit up in the saddle boy I got it. Just relax I got this, I got that exotic

Hips are so hypnotic, I am such a tyrant

#beyonce #beyoncé #cowboy carter

[lakesbian]

what do you think the baby undersiders were like :)

you all might be reading this ask and thinking. Ah yes, this is going to be a post about jean-paul. iota loves jean-paul, possibly to an unreasonable extent. Well jokes on fucking you. ive already posted a lot about jean-paul. this post is going to be about baby brian now. i think about brian more than you guys even remotely know and now we're having Brian Time. lakesbian goes brianmoded.

anyway. in my head brian laborn was a very silent serious little child who always took things too literally. one of those children random adults would call an "old soul" in a complimentary way but all it means is the child has already lost all their joie de vivre at the age of ten. you know how in aisha's interlude when she finds out her mom is pregnant again she hopes the drugs & alcohol result in a miscarry so that some poor third laborn kid doesn't have to deal with All The Bullshit? i don't think brian consciously had that full entire thought when he found out he was going to have a little sibling, but i do think somewhere in his little seven year old mind he reacted with a sort of creeping dread and advance desire to protect his yet-to-be-born sibling more than with any sort of excitement.

i think he was, of course, always the tallest kid in class, and he did not like sticking out like that at all. he got used to it eventually but i think on many an occasion he has imagined picking someone asking him about the weather or basketball up and flattening them hydraulic press style. but also, he always felt very Special and Helpful and Masculine when he had to get things off shelves for women. and he liked when elderly people called him a Polite Young Man for it, and he did not think anything negative about the fact that people were already calling him a Young Man when he was 12 or 13, because he figured he was just supposed to keep being a Polite Young Man. i think one time when he was like 8 his mother's boyfriend ran over a cat on the road even though he didn't have to do that and it made brian so sad he cried and he couldn't stop crying even when he got told to stop fucking crying and he doesnt like to think about that memory very much at all.

i think aisha liked when brian held her a lot as a small child and he was always doing it and he liked giving her rides on his shoulders because it felt like being a responsible fun big brother and then she stopped wanting to do that and started thinking he was lame and he would never admit that he wishes she still wanted to. i am. Always thinking about how when he went to go pick her up on the day he triggered she ran and jumped into his arms. do you think that was the last time he held her? i bet it was. [through tears] i bet it was

#brian laborb. #ask #wormblr #parahumans #worm spoilers #brian posting will continue until brian opinion improves

[mychlapci]

After the lost light goes to another dimension they have an energon shortage. Which causes old Prime coding to act up.

Before when there were energon shortages on Cybertron. Primes would produce energon and feed others.

Rodimus chest feeling sensitive and hurting for a few days. He thinks about seeing Ratchet and decides against it thinking it will go away. Then he spars with Drift who hits him in the chest and he gasps in pain.

Worried Drift takes him to Ratchet and right as they get there his chest panel flys off. Rodimus who didn't even know he had boobs is suddenly confronted with massive ones that are leaking what looks like energon.

Curious and ignoring Ratchets shouting he tastes himself and realizes it's energon.

Drift also takes a taste because why not and so does Ratchet reluctantly.

They come up with a plan where Rodimus is constantly being milked for his energon until he's all dry. By then he's pent up and horny and after some begging still hooked onto the machine. Drift fucks him and he begins producing more energon then before.

hgrhhh… a little energon shortage on the Lost Light making Rodimus’ coding act up. His chest starts to ache, like there’s some kind of pressure pushing up against his chest-plate, not quite like a dislocated cog or even a burst hydraulic, it’s more… organic, like a swelling of sorts. He sure hopes it goes away, he hopes for a long while, until Drift playfully elbows him in the chest during a spontaneous sparring session and Rodimus’ wince of pain cannot possibly go unnoticed. Drift drags him into the med-bay, managing to wrangle Ratchet into doing an examination. 

Ratchet unlatches his chest-plate and Rodimus’ titties, which he wasn’t aware of, immediately spill out and start leaking buckets. Rodimus, while getting scolded for making a mess and for keeping this all to himself, brushes some of the fluid dripping out of him off his nozzle, and licks his fingers clean. Of course Drift can’t resist but give it a try, especially when Rodimus very seriously tells him that it’s actual, honest to Primus, refined energon, the kind of energon that no one even drinks anymore because it’s just too expensive. Ratchet explains to him that his body appears to be reacting to the fuel shortage by creating more nutritional energon for his crew, a code that might have come with the matrix being inserted into his spark.  

Oops, now Roddy’s getting milked everyday. Well, he has to get milked, otherwise his titties get so big and heavy he can barely straighten his back, and to be frank, he’s now grown fond of the pump. The feeling of it suckling at his nipples, even the sound of the cubes filling with his milk, it turns him on so badly that he starts begging Drift to come fuck him… Rodimus riding Drift’s spike, the pump still attached and putting pressure on his oversensitive nozzles, and the moment he overloads, his titties start spraying another cube’s worth of energon into the pump... Drift gets curious and starts to experiment, finding out that even if Roddy’s been milked dry, an overload kicks his refineries back into production and he immediately starts leaking like crazy… this reflexive reaction means Rodimus can’t have sex without making an absolutely giant mess <33

#hello. so it turns out im actually stupid so i stopped studying and im answering asks again. whatever happens happens dude #valveplug #boobdayforever

[denial-permanente]

So with longterm chastity the cock is supposed to temporarily shrink when flaccid right, leading to smaller cages over time. With over 10yrs of being locked and only being unlocked for the Dr and for bike rides it's got to be safe to say that Tom must have shrunk a lot by now.

So what will happen when Tom has gone through all of the small cages, like the nub and nanos etc. Does he then start to wear the flat or inverted cages on a perma basis?

Bc we all know there should be no free room inside of them 😉.

"What you've just said is one of the most insanely idiotic things I have ever heard. At no point in your rambling, incoherent response were you even close to anything that could be considered a rational thought. Everyone in this room is now dumber for having listened to it. I award you no points, and may God have mercy on your soul.”

🔒Tom here. Back in the 90s when the internet was new, one of the things we early adopters were looking forward to was the ability to have widespread knowledge, leading to the increase in education. We believed that having all this information at ones fingertips would make everyone smarter.

Instead, we discovered that the most commonly disseminated materials are not information, but rather, disinformation, misinformation, wrong information, and simply bad information. So, don't take this personally, but pretty much every assumption that you made in your question was just plain wrong.

Being locked doesn't "shrink" your penis. It's not a muscle, and there's nothing there to atrophy. What happens is that the erectile tissue loses it's elasticity, and does not expand to it's previous size after some period of time. This also happens with age, especially with other health factors in play.

I don't measure myself because I'm not a teenager anymore. Has my erection gotten smaller? Yes, probably 10% or so. I don't get many opportunities to observe it, but that's kind of the point with us.

In my opinion, the nub and flat cages are not good for long term wear. Regular cages restrict erections; the tiny cages restrict and compress flaccid tissue. This means they need more frequent removal for cleaning, and there's always the potential for chafing and irritation.

There's no rule that says one's cage should not have any room. A rule of thumb suggests that a cage that is about the size of one's flaccid penis will prevent erections and be more comfortable, but that's about it.

However, I'm still wearing the same cage that I've had for the past six or so years (the A272), and do not have a need to go smaller. And as far as I can tell, all of my hydraulic and plumbing systems are functioning just as they should.

#chastity question

[crookedkryptonitebeliever]

Language Barrier (Yandere male x reader) p9

tw; blood, gore, insects, calorie counting, violence, body horror, general yandere shenanigans

minors and ageless blogs will be blocked

I really pulled out the scientific calculator, pencil and paper for this chapter</3 (i mean i actually do stuff like that for all Language Barrier chapters, but this chapter is particularly egregious) but it was fun to fuck around with my research and logical thinking for this series, ironic cause this series is taking place in a nonsensical setting

thanx for reblogs and comments and messages <3 it do be keeping me going

as allwys no proofreadig <3 lower your expectations <3

masterlist

part 1, part 8, Part 10

You woke up to vigorous shaking. You had the faintest hope that everything was just one big night terror and you're being awakened by your spasming muscles.

You groaned, squeezing your eyes shut. The wind was slapping your face around, it's whistling loudly in your air and your hat is gone.

You tried your best to open your eyes, but the blinding sun hurts them, it feels like you're riding a rollercoaster of sorts.

Chittering...You heard fucking chittering. You pried your eyes open and gripped harder onto 2718's back.

You screamed when you saw the translator whack an insect away with her makeshift weapon, made from the Giant's bone. It nearly punctured the man's left feet if it wasn't for his quick footwork and the woman's brutal strikes. Your hair fluttered in the air, occasionally obscuring your vision.

You're unsure how fast 2718 is moving, but you're sure as hell that it isn't humanely possible to achieve. The translator is catching up, that means she's running at similar speeds. It made sense to you that she could do it, she's part cyborg after all. But 2718...

Your companion wrapped his arms tighter around you as he zipped past the worms shooting out from the ground, the translator is helping him clear the path around the two of you.

You noticed that her shoe has a hole. Blood was soaked around it, but her toes and feet are all intact. Interesting.

The insects didn't seem to target her though, mainly focusing on 2718's legs. This time, he's gracefully dodging them, missing by a mere millimeter.

You held on to dear life, feeling your soul leave your body when you felt those familiar tremors. Shrieking in horror upon seeing another three of them pop up simultaneously.

"Hey, shut up! We can't hear them!" Scolded the translator as she grabbed one using her bare hand. It squirmed in her grip pathetically before succumbing to its' death- by her hydraulic press grip. You pressed your lips together, hoping that you didn't accidentally lead the three of you to a certain death.

You watched her skewer its' carcass on the sharp end of her weapon. There was already two of them lifelessly dripping its' viscera down the ivory baton. Why was she collecting them?

Odd, if they can rely on hearing alone to detect the insects' position, why did 2718 need to open up his third eye?

You swallowed a surprised scream when she hurled one of her cadavers at you.

You squeezed your eyes shut and tried your best to duck. But before it would collide against your head, 2718 caught it.

You heard loud crunching and you felt his neck muscles moving. You tilted your head a bit to see that he shoved the entire thing into his mouth. His jaw was driving itself up and down to grind its' body to smaller, consumable chunks. Its exoskeleton ruptured and caused black goo to gush out past his lips. Some of it splattered onto you as it dribbled down his chin.

You gagged, having a full view of the translator doing the same thing. It was hard to watch, her mouth isn't as large as 2718's, she had to waste half a body. She wasn't exempt from soiling her clothes with dark sludge. They don't seem to be enjoying the taste either. They must be doing this out of necessity.

Her face scrunched up in disgust as she forced herself to swallow it. You were amazed that she went back to defend the both of you with no delay. Managing to impale another onto her spear.

You looked behind you to see the house rapidly approaching. Too fast, in fact. As much as you want to be home, you also don't want to be body slammed against it. You're not sure if 2718 is supposed to move this fast, at this point!

She hurled another dead insect at him. You sputtered when some of its' guts landed onto your face. 2718 shot you an apologetic look before continuing to munch away.

Suddenly, he pushed your head down and spun around. Your cries of confusion was muffled by his chest. But you understood as soon as you catch a glimpse of wood, the front door to his humble abode, being mere inches away from your eyeballs.

With a devastating crash, 2718 shot through the door. Splinters furiously flung about, shards of metal from its' hinges scraped at both of your skins, and the impact could be felt through him. However, his body absorbed most of it, attenuating the net damage done to your frailer form.

You heard a second clash a split second later, more chips of wood flew in the air and rained onto you. A heavy thud could be felt and heard next to the both of you.

2718 groaned in agony. Despite tasting blood as it spills from his mouth, feeling that his ribcage liquified itself in his chest, being physically unable to bend his legs, the first thing he did after recovering enough to move is to check on you. He hastily tucked his hands under your arms, propping you up directly on top of him. He is still laying flat on his back, on his decimated door.

You're obviously disoriented. You have a pounding headache and your nose is bleeding non-stop. He gently set you back down on his chest, closing his eyes and began chanting. Red stained his pearly whites and droplets of it sprayed all over you.

However, before he could make any significant progress, the translator thrusted another insect into his mouth. His eyes widened as he now tries to strangle her, but she plucked herself away as soon as it was secured in his mouth.

She crawled away, into a relatively safer corner to refuel herself too. She weakly ripped into the vermin and took her time to chew. 2718 is busy angrily gnawing on his share, so she loosened herself on the floor. Shiny mercury that was coating the jagged, translator-shaped hole in the wooden wall can also be found pouring out of her nostrils, eyes and mouth. As well as the area on her abdomen, where a broken glass pane is lodged within her flesh, forming a reflective puddle around her and where ever she touched.

The translator closed her eyes, coughing a couple times because her own... 'blood', went into her lungs. She needed a bit of time. This isn't just a mere nibble on the foot, this is a high speed collision, comparable to that of a major racecar crash.

Steadily, the silver liquids in their respective puddles began to vibrate. Then, slowly, inching themselves towards her. Rippling and ebbing, almost like someone directed a blow dryer against them. As long as she's not interrupted, it should be fine--

She cried out in pain as a boot drove itself into her diaphragm, forcing more of her liquid life out past her lips. The process came to a harsh halt, all unnatural movement ceased to be. She is back in square one.

The translator curled up into a fetal position, groaning, sniffling and whimpering. She glared at the man towering over her, letting his filthy, criminal blood drip onto her. You're unconscious in his arms as he carried you bridal-style.

He sneered at her with his blood stained, insect viscera covered lips.

The translator quivered in extreme pain, shakily cursing him to a horrible fate. Wishing ill will onto him.

2718 responded with his footsteps, growing softer as he head towards the bedroom.

She sobbed, her entire being was filled to the brim with hatred and anger towards the male. The translator clenched her jaw and balled her fist, she has nothing but contempt for 2718.

Meanwhile, 2718 stumbled outside. He used one of the wooden pillars as support. He pulled his boots off and threw it aside.

He rest a foot onto the sand.

Letting the insects come to him as he readied his daggers.

The man closed his two eyes, allowing a third one to open on his forehead.

Heart wrenching whimpers and cries woke you up. It sounded like it comes from the living room. You sniffled, grimacing when you felt something salty at the back of your throat.

You forced yourself up, it was a colossal task, as aches, bruises and cuts littered your entire body. You spotted the blood smears all over the pillow, gingerly tapping your upper lip with your finger, you found that you're still bleeding.

Using the walls and furniture as crutches, you made your way outside at a snail's pace.

You cradled your head, seeing the damage that the translator and 2718 caused to this building. It was severe, the door was blown off its' hinges. It was left in ruins on the floor. Another great hole was blasted through the window and adjacent walls. Inches of sawdust covered everything as if a blizzard has occurred in this very room. Strange, chrome liquid coated many of the wood piles, mostly pooling around the translator.

The translator! You rushed to her, plopping down to your knees. You shook her by the shoulder, trying to get her attention but avoid exacerbating her torment.

"...That bastard kicked me in the guts..." She struggled to open her eyes. "In the middle of healing, no less..." The translator hacked more silver fluids out of her throat.

You asked her what you could do to help.

Her finger feebly protruded out, pointing at something behind you.

You turned around to see her sharpened bone spear, it has one last insect carcass stuck to it.

You hurriedly picked it up, powering through the disgust as you used your fingers to pry its' corpse off the weapon. It was harder than you though, needing to muster all your strength to slide it off. Weirdly enough, its' exoskeleton felt velvety... You weren't expecting a centipede looking creature to feel like a 1970's car seat, you were expecting it to feel smooth. Like a shrimp.

That probably didn't make it easier for the both of them to stomach it.

The translator furrowed her eyebrows, you were taking a while to get her what she needs.

To her surprise, you returned to her with the insect crudely chopped into bite sized pieces. She was grateful though.

You looked away when she popped a sizable chunk into her mouth.

"Thank you..." She exhaled. Closing her eyes and letting herself relax on the floor.

You panicked, asking her if she's dying. You got no response from her.

You shook her again, not wanting to lose your only form of effective communication, no matter how dubious she may seem.

Your hands released her when you saw that her peculiar blood began slithering into her orifices. Even that on her clothes, it beaded out from the soft fabric and slid towards her nostrils.

You eyed her abdomen, there is a shard of glass. It looks like the blood was struggling to push it out.

You decided to help by wrapping your fingers around it, and yanking out of her body in one go. Some mercury sprayed onto you, it was scorching hot! You quickly swiped it away from your skin, you frowned when you see that it burnt your arm.

This made her howl, gurgling on her own metallic blood. She gave you a betrayed look, but upon seeing what you did, her hurt- emotional pain at least, washed away.

She now seem strong enough to stay conscious. All the liquid descended into her throat, she can now speak to you.

You asked what was the deal with these insects.

"Each of them are like... what? 4000 calories? At that speed that we're running in, we need those calories."

You asked how fast were the both of them running.

"About... 220 miles an hour. I know. It sounds impossible and you can't believe that you're alive after all... that." She weakly gestured towards the exit. 2718 is oddly no where to be found.

"We can do just about anything, we just need enough energy." She rested her hand on her stomach. She slowly turned to her side so she could rest on her back.

You asked how long you were asleep for.

"Ten minutes." Her hand stretched out to grab another insect chunk. She chowed down on it as soon as it touches her lips.

Ten minutes!? How far did the three of you travel from the lighthouse before the attack happened?

"Let's see.. six hours at about 2.5 miles per hour... 15 miles. Out of... about 70. That means we ran for the rest of it, all 55 miles."

Then... how many calories did they burn doing that?

"That jerk of yours is probably weighing around 200 pounds... He burnt around 7000 calories in 15 minutes-- not including self regeneration. I'm... 132 pounds, so I must have burnt like 4500-ish calories in that 15 minutes. But I needed another 3000 at least to heal my foot... oh yeah, they ate my foot. So I ate them." She snickered as she reached out to snack on the insect.

So it took 15 minutes... to complete a journey that would have taken 22 hours by walking. Goodness you.

Then, you asked her if she 'pulled these numbers out her ass'.

"No, I got some sensors built in. I'm part terminator, remember?"

Terminator... sounds like a pop culture reference.

You guess it made sense.

You asked if 2718 also has these sensors.

"I don't know." She swallowed her last bite. "I don't like him."

That's a given.

"I hope you'll be okay when I'm out of here. I'll try to check up on you from time to time, though. That is, if I manage to even see you without that asshole clawing my eyes out."

You nodded, also wishing her luck.

Then a question crossed your mind, where does 2718 keep his teleporters? You asked her that and she hummed in response. Not knowing the answer to that.

"At this point, I don't know if he even owned any. He probably conned me, what a prick." She grumbled.

That... could be true. You haven't seen him utilizing it aside from that one trip. Maybe he only gets them from his visitors.

"You got any more of these?" She lifted her meal up. "It's not enough, I need another... 12000 calories to fix my ribs, my failing organs, my fractured skull..." She trailed off. Seemingly too many injuries to list.

You scratched the back of your head. You can't hunt these your own. The kitchen's locked too.

You asked if she could drink the blood that's dripping from your nose. It's not like you can get them back.

"Hard pass. It's not going to give me that energy and it's gross."

You shook your head no, sorry. You don't think you have any more caloric dense food to spare... or any food at all. You then asked her where her backpack is.

As if on cue, her backpack slammed against her upper torso from a great height. Knocking the air out of her lungs and mildly resetting her healing progress again.

You looked up and behind you to see 2718. He tossed three insect carcasses onto her greatly weakened body. He crouched down, grabbing your chin and inspecting you for any other injuries.

He must be practicing his new abilities. Fresh blood streaked down his cheeks, but his eyes were clear and healthy.

You were alarmed by the amount of insect glop that he was coated in, it was much more than usual, as if he bathed in them beforehand. He left black, slimy footprints behind him.

You peered over his shoulder and spotted... a gargantuan version of the numerous vermin carcasses that he's carrying around his neck like scarves. Ink surrounded it and the porch, making it seem the cabin is in the middle of a stygian sea.

"H-he said that's the mother." The translator coughed as she heaved the heavy backpack off her abdomen. She took deep breaths before continuing. "Once you killed any of its' young, she will come for you, bringing its' hoard of children."

You estimated the size of the mother to be as big as a bus. Double decker.

He lets go of your face and gently pushed you in the direction of the bedroom. You resisted it and walked around him.

"He wants you to rest."

You don't want to. You don't trust him around her, 2718 might just kill the translator if you're not looking!

"I'm not telling him that." Said the translator. But she said something to him anyways.

To your utter surprise, he narrowed his eyes and left her alone. He didn't leave just yet, he offered his hand to you.

Naturally, you asked her what she told him.

"I said that you though that he was cool, and handsome, and hot-- and you want to see him do... things. I don't know, I'm too tired to think of a proper translation right now." She closed her eyes. Letting her head loll to one side.

"Have fun or whatever..." She drawled. Falling silent after that. She remained motionless in the next few minutes.

Your attention was brought back to 2718 when he took the liberty to grab your hand in his sticky ones. You squirmed, despising the feeling of bug guts on your skin. Nonetheless, you followed him outside.

For your translator's sake.

#yandere #yandere x reader #tw yandere #yandere concept #yandere male #yandere oc #male yandere #yandere imagines #yandere scenarios #yandere tw #yandere cw #cw yandere #tw gore #tw insects #tw blood #tw body horror #tw calories #tw violence #tw graphic #yandere x darling #yandere x y/n #yandere x you #yandere male oc x reader #male yandere oc x reader #yandere oc x reader #yandere ocs #tw afab reader

[aliasrocket]

˓ ˎ ° YOU’RE MY BABY (SAY IT TO ME.) ˋ˒

info. 6.7k words. angst. smut.

Rocket’s drunk, and it’s not for the usual reason; he’s trying to forget a certain someone. But it’s kind of hard to do that when that person is telling them to get into their car so she can send him home.

a/n. not sure if you guys have seen one of my ‘get to know me posts’ but I mentioned ‘I bet on losing dogs’ was coming out soon, this was it. I decided to rename it but the title is still a lyric from that song by Mitski.

Also there’s an important detail that I suspect some of you guys will like (if you follow my content anyway, it’s not so important if you don’t) and I wanna know if you notice it.

masterlist. requests. tip jar. commissions.

“Can …”

Rocket’s hand gripped the seat. His body tensed and his hand infected your car seat with his sweat. His heart beat almost to the rhythm of the tiny bumps in the road that caused the car to waver and flinch.

“Can we talk?”

“I’m driving you home.”

“Please,” he uttered your name, slow, languid and so cautious like the sound of it could melt an eardrum. And maybe it did, because your shoulders lowered just as shakily as your name had left his lips. The reaction was almost chemical.

“There’s nothing to talk about.”

You pushed the words out of you, a hydraulic press to your lungs and your voice had reached its pressure point.

“If there was nothing to talk about you would have left me to rot at the side of the road.” Rocket pried his jaw apart to say this. Gritted teeth meant a gritted answer, that lead to gritted yelling. Alcohol swam in his lungs, and maybe some got to his brain because his head was swinging along to the car. It weighed him down. He didn’t have enough energy left to yell.

Your lip was trembling. You cocked your head up, only for a moment, biting back whatever crawling lump had been poking holes in your throat just to make it out of you.

How could he yell at you?

How could he yell at you?

“I …” he swallowed. Dry. Nothing resided in his gullet but the sand the alcohol left in its wake. “I only need a minute.”

“You don’t need anything but to get home,” you persisted in a nod. You nodded some more, the succeeding ones slower and smaller. You were convincing yourself.

You were gripping the wheel, nails for claws and leaving curved marks on the leather.

He said your name. Your eyes flickered. Your chest jumped out, like your rib cage had punched a hole through you.

“Stop.”

���I missed you.”

If it hadn’t been for his glued hand to your seat, Rocket would have hit his head on your windshield from the screeching halt throwing his entire body forward.

Your hair was a mess. You were breathing heavily. Just like the day Rocket met you.

“Rocket, I—you’re—you’re right, okay? You’re right.”

“What—”

“I can’t do this. I can’t do this,” you repeated breathlessly. “When I send you home, you have one minute. Then I’m leaving.”

Rocket nodded eagerly. Shit that threw his head for a ride.

“Okay. Okay.”

read the rest on ao3.

Taglist : @caesarhamato22 @cosmic-lavender @love-for-faeries-go-burrrr @momahoneypleasesugar @ludibry @baloneyslacks @marigold-cat @ghost-andghouls @scholastic-dragon

#rocket raccoon #guardians of the galaxy #gotg #rocket gotg #gotg vol 3 #gotg fanfiction #rocket raccoon x you #rocket raccoon x reader #gotg rocket #gotg v3 #guardians of the galaxy vol 3 #gotg v2 #.alias.fic.previews.

[seat-safety-switch]

French cars were driven from our shores in the 80s. Now they’re trying to come back, through various proxies like Nissan and Chrysler. All this is fine if you like a supple ride, gadgets, and comfortable long-distance cruising. What if you’re normal, like me, and prefer absolutely cheap shit that corrodes very quickly? On this topic, the French have only provided new cars, a moral failing to be sure.

It’s not like I’m biased against French cars. In fact, quite the opposite. My childhood visits to my Quebecois cousins often exposed me to the latest and greatest in hot Parisian imports. Mostly when we went to the dealership to steal hubcaps, because none of our parents could afford a vehicle made by people who didn’t paint straight because of labour strife and ennui, rather than methamphetamine. Also, I played with little toy car Majorettes a lot, imagining myself being capable of taking a European vacation, or owning a boat.

Perhaps the mental pathways still exist, linking Frenchness to glamour and fortune. Those pitchfork-toting warranty-demanding bastards repelled Citroen from my land, taking away my chance at a normal life. If I could get myself a Citroen DS, then I’m convinced that I could slowly rebuild my entire personality, making the decisions that society wanted me to make, ruthlessly crushing my enemies in business until I am a wealthy billionaire deserving of the soft highway glide that is a four-banger French luxo-shitbox from the 60s.

Or, and this is sounding much more appealing: I could be the rich pervert who careens into the parking lot of a town’s auto parts store, looking for a combination of noxious fluids that I can artisanally small-batch combine into the no-longer-made magic sauce that makes the hydraulic suspension work. Yeah, that sounds pretty good. If any of you are going on vacation to France soon, bring me with you. I’m sure I can drive back from there, and on the way I can teach you all the cool new cuss words my cousins shared with me when I was six years old.

[brucenorris007]

Scrap

Summary: Scrap, verb: to discard, retire or remove from service. Metal Sonic discovers—partially through force, partially via coaxing—that perhaps it's time that it scraps a few hardwired notions. Else it will be stuck in the same loop indefinitely.

1801 words (Chapter 1)

“Egghead dipped, base is about to blow, and you still wanna scrap.”

Every fight had the same premise:

Bones versus bearings, blood versus oil, feet versus engines.

“I respect that, Metal; let’s take this outside!”

The outcome should have been obvious, and yet…

Clang.

Braak.

Thok.

Much like the premise, every fight had the same result.

Metal raced Sonic through falling detritus and collapsing supports amid blaring alarms; it clashed with the hedgehog whenever possible, attempting to knock him off his stride and prevent his escape. Sonic wove around the debris while still giving as good as he got; no number of bruises ever slowed him down.

Another explosion rocked the foundations of the subterranean structure; pressure building from rapidly rising heat and fire from below began propelling metal and concrete up as well as down.

Chances of escape came out to approximately two percent.

ZOOM.

Two percent was all that Metal’s nemesis had ever needed.

Groaning and creaking, the roof of the base cracked; daylight peeked through at the end of the flames. Metal’s turbines spun at a droning hum, and it shot outside milliseconds after Sonic did. They briefly hung in the air over the glacial mountain Metal’s master had been operating out of; Metal calculated trajectory, engaged its afterburners and careened down to cross the distance to its doppelganger. Sonic was never truly helpless, but in the scant moments before his feet touched the ground again, it might

The hush over the mountain shattered with a thunderous BOOM.

Sonic’s eyes went wide.

He opened his mouth.

Metal raised its clawed hands.

Loud whooshing sliced through the cold air.

A crash.

Impact.

Something quietly went

Crack.

Disconnection.

Stillness.

Then, motion; all-at-once, too-much motion. Metric tons of red-hot metal flashed across a backdrop of blue sky and white snow. Tumbling and crashing, sliding and barreling through the air without discernible direction or any sort of control.

Noise.

Just… noise.

Simultaneous. Overwhelming. Constant.

Until it wasn’t.

Stillness. Again.

The violent spinning stopped as abruptly as it started.

Soft reboot.

Metal came back online.

A rendering of what had occurred formulated in the space between processors.

The conclusive explosion of the base had expelled a jagged portion of a support beam; its ballistic path intersected–at terminal velocity–with Metal’s frame.

SYSTEM OPERATING ON RESERVE BATTERY POWER

And consequently, it lay half-buried in ice and snow; alerts identifying multiple instances of severe non-function cropped up, cumulatively depicting a less-than-optimal state.

“Metal, you okay?”

Sonic characteristically chose the worst moment to reappear, skidding to a stop in the snow.

“That was a gnarly ride down.”

Internal alarms blared at his measured approach; Metal had experience with being at another’s mercy while in a state of disrepair.

But Sonic was not its master.

It bypassed several advisories against re-engaging combat capability, despite that its reserve battery was not designed to support that. Metal attempted to propel back onto its feet.

Something popped. Loudly.

Hissing and heat followed.

“That… didn’t sound good.” Sonic said.

Metal ignored the derision; occupied with suppressing panic and trying to force fluidity out of limbs locking up courtesy of uncooperative hydraulics.

“Doesn’t look good, either.”

The hedgehog paused just within striking range. Metal’s motherboard ran countless calculations of all the data points illustrating how severely disadvantageous the situation was; of how many weaknesses Sonic could exploit to inflict damage.

“Here, let me”

He reached out. Anticipating an attack, Metal’s own hand snatched the hedgehog’s wrist. Threw itself forward in a spastic lunge.

“Hey!”

Sonic spun to one side, leaving Metal to crash into the snow again. Expecting retaliation, it snatched its hand back.

None came for several moments. Sonic stared at it. Metal glared back, chills that had nothing to do with the temperature permeating its core.

“Okay then.”

Sonic turned around and ran, circling the base of the mountain; a thunderclap seconds later let Metal know he’d broken the sound barrier and was, within a minute, long gone.

Metal attempted again to right itself; renewed alerts made the task more trouble than it was worth. It switched off its optics to preserve power.

WARNING: PROLONGED EXPOSURE TO LOW TEMPERATURES MAY AFFECT BATTERY EFFICIENCY.

RESERVE POWER: 83.6%

—————

Kvhroon.

By Metal’s internal clock, just shy of an hour had passed when it next registered another presence.

“Do you see him, Omega?”

“NEGATIVE.”

The new arrivals were only marginally less-than-welcome. The cronch of snow and ice coupled with the faint, smooth whirring of moving mechanical parts preceded the last of its master’s E-series announcing:

“I HAVE LOCATED HIM.”

Metal kept its optics offline. Perhaps if it ignored them, they would go away. It willfully disregarded how unlikely it was they were searching for it when it happened to be injured.

“Is he on standby mode?”

“NO. HE IS JUST BEING A LITTLE BITCH.”

Metal’s optics flared back to life for the express purpose of glowering at Omega.

“CALLED IT.”

Shadow leaned into view.

“Metal? Can you move?”

“HE CANNOT.”

“I wasn’t asking you.”

“YET I AM CORRECT.”

Metal raised one arm defiantly, a particular titanium finger elevated.

“MUCH IMPRESS. SUCH WOW.”

An internal fan briefly spun harder than usual; Omega might have been programmed without inflection in his voice box, but Metal did possess sarcasm receptors. Shadow sighed.

“All right,” he said; he knelt in the snow. “Let’s just move him.”

Metal’s systems overclocked on seeing Shadow’s outstretched hand; for the barest moment, the incinerating barrier of its Overdrive function enveloped its body. Shadow yanked his hand back. Steam from instantly evaporated ice surrounded Metal.

RESERVE POWER: 50.2%

“Or not.” Shadow said after a beat.

Metal shut off optics again; after that half-a-second engagement of its most powerful offensive maneuver, conserving energy was an even higher priority. It cast about for incoming satellite signals until it pinged off Shadow’s phone. The work of a couple minutes allowed it to interact with the device.

Did Sonic send you?

A beat. The sound of Shadow’s fingers tapping and a phone unlocking. Two simultaneous verbal responses.

“No.”

“YES.”

“Not helping.”

“IT IS THE TRUTH.”

Any help from him is unacceptable

“FINE,” Omega said. “LET YOUR CIRCUITS FRY AND FREEZE BEYOND REPAIR. YOU MIGHT SUCCEED IN HURTING HIS FEELINGS.”

Sarcasm receptors blared again.

“Thank you, Omega.” Shadow said; Metal didn’t have much data for comparison, but the hedgehog’s voice sounded a little strained.

The cronch of Omega’s footsteps indicated he’d momentarily stepped away.

A beat passed.

“Why?” Shadow asked.

What

“I haven’t seen you accept help from anyone before; why take such exception to any that he offers?”

He is the Enemy

“The feeling doesn’t seem to be mutual.”

False

“What are you basing that on?”

Metal’s processors stalled. Sonic, nemesis, the threat that required every preparation and observation to combat; the nemesis who still won, mercilessly heedless of all the data Metal painstakingly had compiled within its CPU. If Sonic, who consistently exceeded that data, didn’t feel as invested in their conflict as Metal, then for what reason had it gathered all that information? Metal could not provide any more complete an answer than:

He is the Enemy

RESERVE POWER: 48.9%

—————

Inexplicably, both of them remained with Metal, despite the arctic climate and the temperature falling with the waning afternoon.

“Is the hatred truly yours if it’s just part of your programming?” Shadow asked.

Were you not programmed–created–to be a protector?

“That’s one of the purposes for which I was made, yes.”

I was created for a sole purpose; eliminating Sonic the Hedgehog

“AND YOU’RE NOT EVEN GOOD AT THAT.”

Metal elected to ignore the more bombastic robot.

That he is the Enemy is just a motive for pursuing his end

Shadow didn’t immediately respond.

“The primary purpose assigned to me on my creation,” he said. “Was to preserve–protect–humanity and the planet. Yet few, if any, have come as close as I did to destroying both.”

That you failed only proves it is not what you were programmed for

Shadow huffed.

“By that logic, failing to eliminate Sonic means that’s not your purpose, either.”

Metal didn’t have a satisfactory reply to that. Rather than frustrated or angry, it experienced more… confusion. Pensiveness.

Uncertainty.

RESERVE POWER: 39.4%

—————

You do not need to remain here

“What do you mean?”

Robotnik will return to collect me in due time

“Will he?”

Metal didn’t understand Shadow’s apparent desire to challenge its every assertion in gentle tones.

“I’ve never known the doctor to spare a second glance at anything he’s left behind him,” Shadow said; almost as if thinking aloud. He paused. “Not unless whatever has captured his myopic attention requires it.”

Omega’s persisting presence was conspicuous by his deafening silence; the lack of any barbing interjections despite his well-documented contempt for Metal’s master.

“I suppose that’s the primary factor he gave you,” Shadow said. “That single-minded focus; though, is Sonic really your enemy, or his?”

There is no distinction

“Maybe not,” Shadow conceded. “But maybe there should be. I may not have destroyed the planet, but I have been–I am–much more than just a protector. I see no reason why you couldn’t similarly evolve.”

Metal once again failed to formulate a response.

“Sonic doesn’t have to be your enemy,” Shadow said. “If you want, you don’t ever have to fight again.”

RESERVE POWER: 27.7%

—————

You have not attempted to move me again

“Do you want to be moved?”

Merely an observation

One that Metal couldn’t comprehend. They’d come in place of Sonic to assist, yet a single defensive act deterred them. Despite that, Metal knew from the vaguely song-like echo of chaos energy that Shadow hadn’t strayed off, and though Omega occasionally stomped up and down in the snow, he offered not a word of complaint. They accomplished nothing of any discernible value that Metal could grasp by doing so.

Even the way Shadow phrased the question caused a stutter in Metal’s motherboard.

“We’re not going to do anything you don’t want us to do.”

That word again: want.

‘Are you ready’ or ‘There’s no rush’ Metal could have understood; an implication that their help was imminent, or that they were waiting until it lacked the power to retaliate. Never mind that Metal’s battery had long since depleted past the point of being able to utilize Overdrive again, regardless of whether they had any way of knowing that.

No. Instead, Shadow asked what it wanted.

“CONSENT IS ESSENTIAL.”

Metal had ample experience receiving repairs or… improvements, heedless of its state of consciousness.

Yet Shadow and Omega were not its master.

RESERVE POWER: 15.8%

—————

What would I be without my programming?

“Everyone in the world would give you a different answer; the only conclusion that matters is the one you carve out for yourself.”

—————

Take me to the fox

please

RESERVE POWER: 2.0%

Kvhroon.

#fanfic #Metal Sonic #Sonic the Hedgehog #Shadow the Hedgehog #Functionally Immortal Crew #E-123 Omega

[sonekwi]

☆ ⸻ the white paladin, keith x reader

chapter one: team bonding

characters/pairings: keith, female reader

genre: fanfiction

summary: you and your friends happen to be in the right place at the right time. you end up rescuing the pilot of the kerberos mission from the hands of the garrison after he unexpectedly returns to earth.

word count: 3,871

links: next, wattpad, masterlist

a/n: this is one of the first fanfictions i have ever written, but the original version is from when i was in 7th grade 🥲 - so, that said, enjoy this revised/rewritten version!

     "Galaxy Garrison flight log 5-11-14, begin descent to Kerberos for a rescue mission," Lance announces, shoving the yoke forward. The aircraft groans as it dives towards Pluto's moon, and you plant your feet to fight against the inertia.

     Your teammate, Hunk, whines from the back. "Ugh, Lance, can you keep this thing straight?"

     "Relax. I'm just getting a feel for the stick!" Lance smirks. "It's not like I did this! or this!" he jerks the aircraft side to side, intentionally making Hunk feel worse.

     "Okay," Hunk gags, "Unless you want to wipe beef stroganoff out of all the little nooks and crannies of this thing, you better knock it off, man!"

     You do what you can from your co-pilot position to help stabilize the aircraft. "You need to take this seriously," you warn. "This simulation makes up most of our final grade."

     "Quit worrying," Lance says, "I got this."

     "Do you?" you raise a brow, and he rolls his eyes.

     "We've picked up a distress beacon," Pidge says, a small blip blinking on his radar.

     "Alright, look alive, team!" Lance says, pressing various buttons in preparation, "Pidge, track the coordinates."

     "Copy," Pidge says and transfers the information onto the main dashboard in front of you. A three-dimensional map of the terrain is generated and you frown. The signal originates from within a narrow ravine, and the surrounding area is a nightmare; large boulders, spikes, cliffs, and overhangs.

     You wearily glance over at Lance, doubting his pilot abilities. Only a miracle could get him through the simulation without crashing the ship.

     The aircraft rumbles and shakes, and Hunk groans again. "Knock it off, Lance! Please!"

     "Oh, this one's on you, buddy!" Lance says and glares over his shoulder. "We've got a hydraulic stabilizer out!"

     You sigh, muttering under your breath. "It wouldn't be out if you would just fly straight."

     "I heard that," Lance growls.

     Hunk grabs his monitor to fix the issue and the aircraft rumbles again. He gags, swallowing down whatever vomit had come up. "Oh no..."

     The map on the dashboard glitches and buffers before going completely dark.

     "We've lost contact," you say.

     "The shaking is interfering with our sensors," Pidge explains.

     "Come on, Hunk!" Lance exclaims.

     "Sorry, it's not responding," Hunk says and removes his safety belt. He wobbles over to a gearbox for a manual fix, the excessive motion impairing him.

     The map suddenly regenerates and the distress beacon pops back up. You are about a klick from its location and approaching fast.

     "Never mind, fellas," Lance says. "Preparing for approach on visual."

     "Not happening," you say. "We can't fly properly until Hunk fixes the hydraulic stabilizer."

     "Agreed!" Hunk says, just before losing his lunch.

     "It'll be fine!" Lance says dismissively and pats the dashboard of the aircraft. "This baby can take it!" It rumbles again, "See! She was nodding!"

     "Lance, listen to us!" you argue. "We need to hang back."

     "I'm the one flying this thing! So what I say goes!" he glares at you.

     "Excuse me?" you gawk.

     Lance turns to the comm-spec, ignoring you, "Pidge, hail down to them and let them know their ride is here."

     You huff. Why does he insist on being so stubborn and cocky? Does he not understand the gravity of this? If you fail the simulation, you fail the class. But you decide to keep your mouth shut from now on. There's no use trying to talk some sense into him anymore.

     You watch as Lance comes up on an overhang. Instead of flying above or around it, he attempts to thread through the small opening. He turns the aircraft as vertically as he can, but fails. One of the wings clips the overhang and tears off. The alarms blare as the aircraft pummels to the ground, and the lights go dark upon impact. On the dashboard, bold red letters glow and your throat swells with frustration.

     SIMULATION FAILED.

     "Nice work," Pidge sarcastically comments.

     The door to the aircraft slides open with a hiss, and your commander beckons the four of you out. Reluctantly, you leave your seats and exit with your heads hung. You line up, mentally preparing for the berating lecture you'll receive.

     "Let's see if we can use this complete failure as a lesson for the rest of you students," Commander Iverson's voice booms with disappointment. He glares down at you and your team. "Can anyone point out the mistakes these so-called cadets made in the simulator?"

     A student shouts from the back of the group, "The engineer puked in the main gearbox!"

     Iverson turns to Hunk, "Yes, as everyone knows, vomit is not an approved lubricant for engine systems!" he criticizes. "What else?"

     "The comm-spec removed his safety harness," another student says.

     "The pilot crashed!"

     "Correct," Iverson says, "And worst of all, the whole jump they're arguing with each other!" he turns back to you, "Hell, if you're going to be this bad individually, you better at least be able to work as a team!"

     It takes everything in your power not to look away in shame, but you keep your gaze steady.

     Iverson continues, "The Galaxy Garrison exists to turn young cadets like you into the next generation of elite astroexplorers, but these kinds of mental mistakes are exactly what cost the lives of the men on the Kerberos Mission."

     Out of the corner of your eye, you see Pidge clench his fists and scrunch his nose in anger. Your eyes widen when he takes a bold step toward Iverson.

     "That's not true, sir!" he argues.

     "What did you say?" Iverson growls.

     Lance pulls Pidge back and slaps a hand over his mouth, "Sorry, sir! He must've hit his head with all the shaking, but point taken!" he says, tightening his grip on the ginger as if asking what the hell is wrong with him.

     Commander Iverson steps closer and your brother releases Pidge, cowering from the intimidation. "I hope I don't need to remind you that the only reason you're here is because the best pilot in your class had a discipline issue and flunked out. Don't follow in his footsteps," Iverson warns.

     Lance looks away with dejection, his shoulders trembling slightly as he keeps himself from crying.

     Then, Iverson turns to you, and your body tenses with fear.

     "And you!" he barks, "I expected better."

     ⁀➷

     At the end of the day, you storm back to the barracks and grumble to yourself. Once within the safety of your room, you grab a pillow from your bed and scream into it.

     "What happened?" your roommate, Nadia, asks. She doesn't bother to look up from her textbook, though.

     "Nothing," you huff. "I'm fine."

     "If it's your brother, you can throw a shoe at him," Nadia says.

     You aggressively tug off your cadet uniform. "I don't get it! He's so fricking dense and full of himself!"

     Nadia points to the closet, "I have a pair of high heels."

     "His skull is so damn thick, three people couldn't talk him out of it!" you growl, putting on some more comfortable clothes.

     "Aim for the eyes."

     "And why was I the fricken co-pilot!? I'm top of-" you stop when someone knocks on the door. You sigh, taking out your hair tie as you walk over. Placing it on your wrist, you repeatedly snap it against your skin.

     You open the door and see Lance and Hunk standing there. Without a thought, you slam the door in your brother's face.

     ...But he jammed his foot in the way.

     "Wait, (y/n)!" he says, smooshing his face into the cracked doorway. "I'm sorry!"

     "Sorry doesn't fix the problem," you say and lean against the door. You push against it a couple of times to get Lance to move his foot, but he keeps it there. "What do you want?"

     "Do you want to hang out with us?" Lance asks. "You heard Iverson today, he wants us to bond as a team!"

     "Hard pass," you hiss and push against the door again.

     "Come on, (y/n)!" Lance begs. "It isn't team bonding unless everyone is there."

     You roll your eyes. "No, I'm not letting you mess this up for me any further. Go bother someone else."

     With one last push, Lance moves his foot and the door slams. You sigh and drag your hands down your face. You want nothing more than to crawl into bed and hide under the blankets, but...

     "He's still standing out there, isn't he?" you look at Nadia, and she nods. Groaning, you grab a jacket and pull on your shoes.

     You open the door and quietly close it behind you. Looking at your brother expectantly, you try to ignore his smug face.

     "I knew you'd join us," Lance says, turning to head down the hall, "Let's go get Pidge."

     You roll your eyes and follow him. Lance leads you and Hunk through the barracks, avoiding the hall monitors like he's playing a stealth mission in a video game. You shush his dramatic humming multiple times.

     As you come around a corner, Lance stands. "Wait right here," he says, but as he moves towards the door it opens.

     He scrambles back around the corner, and the three of you watch as Pidge exits his room. He has a backpack slung over his shoulder, and suspiciously checks his surroundings before running down the hall.

     "Where do you think he's going?" you ask.

     "Should we go after him?" Hunk asks.

     You all share a look before agreeing to follow Pidge, and Lance takes the lead again. Carefully, you keep a short distance between you and Pidge so you don't lose him. You're confused, however, as he comes up on a maintenance stairwell. The three of you watch as he quickly types in the code to the door.

     The roof..? You furrow your brows as he disappears through the stairwell.

     Upon reaching the top, Lance opens the door to the roof slowly and quietly. He peeks out before waving you and Hunk closer and slipping through.

     The ginger sits at the edge of the roof, surrounded by various pieces of technology. His figure is outlined by the glow of the screens. Your brother smirks at you before sneaking up on Pidge.

     Lance grabs the headphones off of Pidge's head. "You come here to rock out?" he asks.

     Pidge jumps and screams. He places a hand on his chest, breathing heavily. "Oh, it's you guys..."

     "What are you doing up here?" you ask, walking closer.

     Lance looks over the tech. "Where'd you get this stuff? It doesn't look like Garrison tech..."

     Pidge smirks. "I built it."

     "You built all of this?" you ask, and Hunk hums excitedly.

     "Yeah," Pidge says, "With this, I can scan to the edge of the solar system," he explains.

     "All the way to Kerberos?" you ask and pick up a small device. You move it around in my hands, admiring the work put into it.

     Pidge hangs his head at my question and starts to pick at his fingers nervously.

     Lance irks. "You go ballistic every time the instructors bring it up! What's your deal?" he asks, and Pidge hesitates to answer. "Look, if we're going to bond as a team, we can't have any secrets!"

     "Fine," Pidge turns to the three of you. "The world as you know it... is about to change," he says ominously.

     "What do you mean?" you ask, setting down the device. You notice the notebook sitting on the ground beside him, and your eyes linger on it. On the paper is a crude rendition of what looks like a Transformers robot.

     Pidge continues, "The Kerberos Mission wasn't lost because of some malfunction or crew mistake," he says, "So, I've been scanning the system and picking up alien radio chatter."

     "What? Aliens?" Hunk exclaims.

     "Are we talking little green dudes?" you ask, your eyes widening, "Or something bigger and meaner, like Predator?"

     Lance rolls his eyes, "You're insane," he says to Pidge.

     "I'm serious," Pidge argues, "They keep repeating one word, Voltron," he grabs the notebook and holds it up. "And it's going crazier than I have ever heard it."

     "How crazy..?" you ask wearily, and as the words leave your mouth, the Garrison's alarms go off. You suddenly feel your body tense and your gut knots with dread.

     A voice crackles over the campus loudspeakers issuing out a warning, "Attention students and faculty! This is not a drill. We are on lockdown, security situation Zulu Niner. All students are to remain in barracks until further notice."

     The message is repeated a few times, and you feel worse. There's no way this is just a coincidence.

     Hunk stammers and points to something in the sky. "Is- is that a meteor?" he asks, "A really, really big meteor?"

     You look up to see a giant object falling towards the earth, burning up in the atmosphere. Your heart climbs up into your throat and fear floods through you.

     Pidge grabs a pair of binoculars and looks at the object. "It's a ship!" he exclaims.

     Lance takes the binoculars, "Holy shit! I can't believe what I'm seeing! That is not one of ours!"

     "No, it's one of theirs," Pidge says with awe.

     You watch as the ship plummets, crashing just a short distance away from the Garrison. The boom reverberates through your whole body, and your nose quickly begins to burn at the smell of sulfur and smoke.

     Below you, Garrison troops deploy and race to the crash site.

     "We've got to see that ship!" Pidge exclaims, quickly packing up his stuff before running towards the roof exit.

     "Come on, guys!" Lance says to you and Hunk.

     You sigh, following your brother and teammates. "This is not what I had in mind for team bonding."

     ⁀➷

     Perched on a ledge on the outskirts of the crash site, you observe the area. The Garrison had beat you to it and had guards upon guards patrolling, each one heavily armed. The alien ship, seemingly undamaged by the crash, was already loaded onto the bed of a truck. Off to the side, they had set up a quarantine tent.

     You watch as scientists and high-ranking officers walk in and out of the tent. You wonder if they found something. Maybe an alien or strange artifact?

     Pidge works on his laptop as Lance surveys the crash site with a pair of binoculars. While you and Hunk stand behind them, you keep your head on a swivel to make sure no one sneaks up on you. Things will only get worse from here if you're caught.

     "Hey," Pidge says, "They set up a camera inside the tent and I grabbed its feed. Look!"

     You walk over and kneel beside him, your eyes widening at what you see on his laptop. Inside the tent, a human is strapped down to a metal table, struggling against the restraints. A pair of scientists lean over him, performing a basic physical evaluation. Commander Iverson stands among them, supervising.

     "What are you doing?" the man asks and jerks his body against the restraints.

     "Calm down," Iverson says, "We just need to keep you quarantined until we run some tests."

     The man shakes his head, "You have to listen to me! They destroy worlds!" he grunts, "Aliens are coming!"

     Lance gawks at the screen. "That's Shiro! The pilot of the Kerberos Mission! That guy's my hero!" he exclaims.

     "Where's his crew?" you ask.

     One of the scientists grabs a syringe to draw Shiro's blood. "Do you know how long you've been gone?" he asks.

     "I don't know. Months? Years?" Shiro says, "Look, there's no time. Aliens are coming here for a weapon. They will destroy us! We need to find Voltron."

     "Sir, take a look at this," the scientist says, "It appears his arm has been replaced with a cyborg prosthetic."

     "Put him under until we know what that thing can do," Iverson says.

     "No, don't!" Shiro begs. "Don't put me under! There's no time!"

     You watch with wide eyes as the scientists inject an anesthetic into Shiro, not heeding a single word that comes out of his mouth. Why aren't they listening to him? He's been gone for a year and was presumed dead. There's no way he's been alive on Kerberos this whole time. How are they not going to believe his story?

     "We have to get him out," Pidge says.

     Hunk sighs, "I hate to be the voice of reason, but weren't we just watching the security feed because there was no way to get past the guards?"

     Lance frowns and rests his chin in his hand. "That was before we were properly motivated. We just got to think."

     "I don't know," you say. "I don't think there's anything we can do..."

     Lance shakes his head, "We need a distraction."

     Bombs explode in the distance, their fiery heat blazing and kicking up dust. You scream and stumble back, your heart pounding. The noise nearly deafens you and you slap your hands over your ears in hopes of drowning it out.

     Hunk starts to freak out, "Is that the aliens? Are they here?"

     "No, that was a distraction!" Pidge says and points, "For him!"

     Barreling towards the crash site is a hover-bike, and as it pulls up behind a rock your eyes widen. You recognize the hover-bike and its driver almost immediately.

     "The Garrison is heading towards the blast, and he's sneaking in on the other side!" Pidge explains.

     "Oh, he is not going to beat us in there!" Lance barks and slides down the ledge, rushing toward the tent.

     "Lance! Wait!" you call out and follow him down, the gravel and dirt scraping against your bare legs. You curse yourself for wearing shorts.

     "Who is it?" Pidge asks, shoving his stuff into his backpack again.

     "Keith!" you shout to him.

     "Are you sure?" Hunk asks, following after you and your brother.

     "Trust me, I'd recognize that mullet anywhere!" Lance growls.

     By the time the four of you get to the tent, Keith is already inside. With the scientists knocked out, he cuts the restraints holding Shiro down, and sits him up. Barely conscious, Shiro can only manage to groan in response to Keith's questions as he slings Shiro's arm around his shoulders.

     "No, no, no! I'm saving Shiro!" Lance snaps and grabs Shiro's other arm.

     "Uh, who are you..?" Keith asks.

     "Seriously? The name's Lance?" your brother says, but Keith remains confused. Lance frowns with a look of hurt and disbelief, "We were in the same class at the Garrison! We were like rivals! You know, Lance and Keith, neck-and-neck?"

     "Oh, wait, I remember you. You're a cargo pilot," Keith says, furrowing his brows as the memory comes back to him.

     As they bicker, you exit the tent. You resume your look-out position from before and check the area. As your eyes move to wear Keith and set off the bombs, you spot the fleet of Garrison vehicles heading back to the crash site. Your heart leaps into your throat and you rush back inside.

     "If you both want to save Shiro, I suggest we get moving. The Garrison is coming back and they do not look happy!" you say, urging everyone out of the tent.

     At the sound of your voice, Keith's eyes meet yours and his face softens. For a small moment, you stop, a familiar feeling crawling out of the hole you buried it in. Neither of you has seen or spoken to each other since he dropped out of the Garrison. You were really good friends up until that point.

     However, part of you is thankful that he never reached out. You knew the little crush you had would never live to be something more, so it gave you the time you needed to move on. But, as your heart flutters with excitement, you realize that you never did.

     You force yourself to break eye contact and turn towards the exit. The group follows you, with Lance and Keith carrying Shiro out as fast as they can.

     "Is this going to fit all of us?" Pidge asks as he hops on the hover-bike.

     "No," Keith answers as he and Lance load Shiro onto the hover-bike. But once he's seated at the helm and everyone's on, he doesn't waste time. He revs the engine and the hover-bike roars to life, lifting a few feet off the ground.

     Just as the Garrison comes around the corner, Keith makes a sharp turn and takes off in the opposite direction. From your seat behind him, you hold onto Keith tightly to avoid falling off.

     The Garrison doesn't hesitate to pursue the group deeper into the desert, and Lance happily points it out, "Can't this thing go any faster? They're right on our tail!"

     Keith rolls his eyes and jabs, "We can throw off some nonessential weight."

     Expectantly, Lance looks around to see what he can toss off the hover-bike, but Keith's words were directed at the five extra people, "Okay, so that was an insult–"

     "Big man, lean right!" Keith shouts over his shoulder and Hunk does so. As the hover-bike sharply banks to the right, it jumps over a small ravine. You make the unfortunate mistake of looking down mid-jump, and your body floods with fear.

     "Not cool, not cool!" you exclaim and shove your face into Keith's back. You don't usually have a fear of heights, especially when you are piloting an aircraft from the safety of an enclosed space. Riding on a hover-bike with Keith at the helm, however, the risk of falling off is very prominent.

     "Are you seriously scared of heights?" Lance asks, immediately noticing it. "You're a freaking pilot!"

     "This is different!" you bark at him.

     "Wait, guys," Hunk stammers as he points ahead of us. "Is that a cliff up ahead?"

     "Oh, no, no, no!" Lance protests.

     "Oh, yes," Keith grins and increases the speed, heading straight towards the cliff.

     Everyone, except for Keith and Shiro (who is still very much unconscious), screams and clambers incoherently as the hover-bike dives right off of the cliff.

     You feel your stomach float up into your chest and your butt lift off of the seat as you fall. Your entire body buzzes with fear and adrenaline as you tighten your grip around Keith. If you fall off now, there's no doubt you will be dead.

     And flat as a pancake.

     "What are you doing? You're gonna get us all killed!" Lance screams.

     "Just shut up and trust me!" Keith shouts back.

     "I trust you!" you say, burying your face again. You truly do, though. Despite him being a reckless risk-taker, you know Keith would never put you in harm's way... well, maybe he would with Lance.

     You fall for what seems like an eternity before Keith rolls the throttle all the way, blasting the engines and maxing out their power. The hover-bike stops just before it hits the ground, and your butt smacks down on the seat.

     That's definitely gonna be bruised...

     With the Garrison having no way down the cliff, the group escapes.

#voltron #keith kogane #vld keith #keith x reader #fanfic #vld #x reader #reader insert #keith voltron

[fuxuannie]

╭₊˚ ๑︰i hope these words reach you in the universe where you didn't leave my life.

:★: relationship : (filo & modern au) blade x g-neutral reader

:★: warnings : PANGET TAGLISH KO WWHWUWHWSH, other than that .. none!

:★: a/n : WE BACK WITH THE FILO AUS 🔥🔥 plz i would've made this on twt if it wasn't for the bonfire going awn there.. rip 🙏 (no translations for this talaga kase its honestly better for me when its written in tagalog huhu)

"Hi, Blade!

Sana pagnakita mo to, I didn't take 500 years to send it to you hehe. Or infact, di ako natakot and never sent it talaga. Sounds like something I'd do.

Anyways.. I think sobrang obvious naman na gusto kita, I mean childhood friends kami ehhh! Since grade 1 naalala kita sa buhay ko, and I really wouldn't have wished for anyone else to grow up with.

I know were gonna be super busy with college na, and I just.. nakakatakot haha. I know that you wanna move back home para you can be with your family ulit but I just.. Yoko talaga na aalis ka tas wala pa akong sinabi, di yan talaga tama sa puso ko eh. It's not right to torture my own heart with the what if's of life.

So when you read this, it's most likely nasa eroplano ka na or I ran off super dramatically kapag binagay ko to kase I don't want to know how you reacted sa talaga lang. I want to tell you and that's it, you're not obligated naman to return the feelings or ganun! Whatever your answer is, I will accept, and even if walang answer.. I'm sure I'll be okay. :) Gusto ko lang na alam mo that while you're gone, meron naman hihintay sayo hanggat babalik ka HAHAHA.

I really do hope future me gives this to you. I hope you're happy back home, and tell tita naghello ako please!

And I love you.

Ang panget mo, from : (name)."

You feel the paper in your pocket as the car ride to the airport was.. painfully silent. Not in a way that you had nothing to say, but both of you had too much to say. Not enough time as you already see the familiar building within your view, all the while still fidgeting with the paper with uneasiness.

You help Blade with his bags, seeing the dark circles under his eyes indicating he couldn't sleep until this moment. It's clear he's scared too, almost as if torn between home and home, the home he's made with you in the Philippines. "You okay..?"

Blade doesn't realize how he's just been staring at you, shaking his head and giving you what seemed to be the saddest smile you'd ever see on his face. "Wala lang."

You walk him to entrance, each step making your heart feel like it's being crushed by a hydraulic press. Blade went to grab a cart as you stood there and stared at the entrance, not being able to fathom that this was it. This was your last moments with him in person.

"So.."

He cleared his throat while you placed his bags onto the cart, looking up at him with those lost and admittedly scared eyes. Neither of you could hide the pain that came with the situation, both afraid for the future without the person you considered your other half. "I.. I just wanna say thank you, for being here and being in my life."

You chuckle, wiping away a tear as you try to smile. "I wouldn't have wanted to be anywhere else."

Then you remember the note, digging into your pockets and immediately recognizing its material and texture. You look back at Blade and sniffle, "I just wish there was more tim-"

But before you could finish, his arms wrap around you with such desperation. He held onto you like he didn't want to let go, which admittedly - he didn't want to.

You blink away your tears as your head rests on his shoulder, it's all going so fast. The day had long disappeared and the sky shifts to a dark blue, you hug him back as tightly as you could.

And in the moment, your heart drops at an idea.

"What if he falls inlove with someone he could actually be with?"

I mean.. the idea was possible, long distance relationships are.. hard. Certainly not for the faint of heart, and you'd both have to be ready for years of no physical contact.. not to mention being busy with college.

He could be with someone that's there for him 24/7, who can be the pillar to support him when you couldn't. Someone he deserves, and is one drive away, not on the other side of the world.

You were just about to slip the note into his pocket, but your hand stopped and you crumpled the letter in your own sadness.

"Uh.. Blade, I think it's time to go." You muttered, hesitantly pulling away even if it hurt your heart to do so. "Take care, okay?"

He smiles at those words, knowing you were his reminder to do so. "I'll do so for you."

That answer made your heart ache.

But Blade notices a piece of paper in your hands. Intrigued, he asks; "Ano yan?"

Taken aback by the fact he noticed, you tear up the paper and try to laugh it off. "Wala, just trash." But Blade rolls his eyes and takes it from your hand, despite your small gasp of surprise. "I'll throw it out."

You were.. hesitant about that, but you agree nevertheless.

You two share a little more time to talk before he realizes the time, and not wanting to be late for his flight - he decides that it's time to go.

"Thanks again, don't miss me too much." He teased to ease the tension.

You scoffed. "As if I'd miss you."

He loved it when you played along with his antics, he was really going to miss this. "Bye, (name)."

You stayed strong for these last moments, holding your tongue to stop yourself from crying out how much you loved him.. and begging him to stay.

"Goodbye, Blade."

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