If Daddy Knew || T.W X Horner!Reader

I know you have but can you tell more about the brothers teaching her how to drivers or the paddock bunnies ?

he's sooooo

your brothers had given up trying to teach you at that point. the reason being; that they loved you too much to let you be a hazard to yourself. you're not manning the wheel in any circumstance, and being driven around.

lewis decided to teach you though.

so one day, you find yourself perched on his lap and he's coaching you through the ride, "you don't need to press your foot all the way down, baby... " he instructs you, manning the wheel as you reach down to step on the gas hesitantly.

"lewis!" you shriek as you felt the car jolt, and he only chuckles, pressing a kiss on your shoulder.

"don't be scared, you can do it dovey." he hums, "i'm here."

Man-Flu ~ Fernando Alonso

♡ Fernando Alonso x Reader

Description: Fernando has a cold but you're there to comfort him.

~fluff~

"Cariño, I think I may be dying."

"Fernando." You say softly, running a hand through his hair. "Darling, you have a cold."

Nobody could ever say your boyfriend wasn't dramatic.

The team doctor had even been around earlier in the day to check on him. All there was to it was plenty of fluids and rest.

He sniffles, "It feels worse than a cold."

You try not to smile but he's too darn cute.

"It is not funny." He says with a pout, his Spanish accent heavily lacing his words.

"You're adorable when you have the man flu." You argue as you pull the covers closer around him. "You'll be fine I promise."

"I hate being sick."

You did feel for him. Usually he was the one in control, the one whose body dictated his profession, his life.

"I know. But how about you just let me take care of you?" You suggest. "Get some rest."

He makes an affirmative noise before an attack of sneezing starts.

You make sure he's comfortable in your bed before you get downstairs to make him some chicken soup and refill his water bottle.

You're rewarded by one of Fernando's smiles when you reenter you bedroom a while later with a tray.

"Still can't sleep?" You ask.

His chest rattles with a cough, "No. Not without you beside me."

Even sick in bed, the man is still a flirt.

You climb onto the bed beside him and cajole him into drinking some soup and more water.

You go to clear the things up and leave him to get some rest.

"Don't go. Stay here with me."

You only have to take one look at him to know you can't say no to the wounded puppy look he's giving you.

So you put the tray away and lie down next to him. It doesn't take long for him to wrap himself around you like a giant koala bear.

You lie on your back and his curls up on his side and slings an arm across your torso and hitches his hip over your legs and his face resting near your neck.

It doesn't take long for his breathing to even out and you can practically feel him drifting off to sleep.

You smile at the feeling, it took a long time before Fernando had been comfortable with the notion of being vulnerable with you. He had built his entire racing persona on being tough and harsh and unreasonable.

To eveyone else he was Fernando Alonso. But with you he was just Fernando.

You must have drifted off to sleep because its dark outside when you open your eyes.

You accidently rouse Fernando from his sleep as you stretch.

He mumbles something in Spanish you don't understand and places a kiss on your neck.

You place a hand on his forehead to make sure he hasn't got a temperature and is hallucinating. But you breathe a sigh of relief when you feel his skin and its not burning up like that morning.

"What was that?" You ask

Your sigh turns to something between a moan and a laugh as he trails his kisses up your neck to behind your ear.

"I said, how did I get so lucky to have you Corazón?"

You turned your head so you can look in his eyes.

"I'm the lucky one." You argue with a pout you know is his weakness.

He shakes his head and gently takes the hand you had checked his temperature with and places a kiss on the back of it. "I love you."

"I love you too."

Fernando smiles as if he's just been told he's won another world championship.

"Now, time for you to eat something and get a good night's sleep, you will feel better tomorrow." You tell him.

He shrugs, seemingly having forgotten his self pity party, "I already feel better with you here."

"Well, it's a good thing I'm not going anywhere." You tell him and seal your promise with a kiss

It’s Kimi Raikkonen’s birthday 🥳

I need a Time Machine and one chance god please 🙏😭😣😩🤭

sebastian vettel masterlist

all blurbs are listed from oldest to newest - oldest being on the top and newest on the bottom. // it’ll be updated as I post!

header by @stuffspaddock

Keep reading

Hi love, how are you? Hope your doing good.

I have a request for you. Could you write something of Oscar x reader. That could be after his sprint win in Qatar and they have a very…agitated night? (You can write a smut or not as you prefer). The next day when they go to the paddock, the couple get weird looks from Lando and Charles (you can chance if you want I just thought of them too because they are such drama queens). When Oscar asks them what is wrong with them and they say that they heard everything from the night before since they were in the rooms on the sides of Oscar’s. And well, they would be very dramatic saying things likes “I thought you were a baby”, “a baby can’t make a baby”, “do you even know what sex is?” and mentioning how they were traumatised, and how loud they were. Other drivers that were passing by, maybe Lewis, heard and got just as shocked. After that Oscar started being teased by them all the time because of that incident.

I hope you like it, if don’t just ignore it. But thank you anyways <3

RARARARARARRA I LOVE THIS

We Heard You. (OP81)

Summary: One way to shock the drivers? Have sex with your girlfriend one room over.

Warnings: smut y’all, language, Lando and Charles being so scared its so funny, sexual conversations

Oscar and Y/n fell through the door, lips locking aggressively. He was adamant on stripping his girlfriend of her clothes quickly, his hands almost tearing off her pants accidentally when she involuntarily ground her hips against his.

She walked them further into the room, the couple falling onto the bed which caused a loud squeak. Their giggling ensued, loud and infectious as Oscar continued to gently remove the last of her clothes.

When her bra snapped open by Oscar’s familiarity with the material, he dazed upon her and said, “Perfect, pretty tits, baby.”

She moaned softly when he leaned up and took her nipple in his mouth, swirling his tongue around the soft skin. He bit down, warranting a louder volume from his girlfriend that bounced around the walls of the room. Her hands tangled in his hair from her position on his lap, straddling him and beginning to slowly grind herself onto him. His jeans created a rough friction that teased spots of her core, initiating the same kind of groans that signaled how much she was enjoying herself.

“Fuck, Oscar.” She said when he grabbed her hips and pressed up against her.

He guided her movements, “Like that, baby? Get yourself off on my pants.”

She whimpered as he continued to play with her boobs, massaging one while he nipped and sucked on the other. Her head thrown back, Oscar flipped her over, stopping her impending orgasm.

He stared down at her, a mischievous grin on his face as his finger came down to rub her clit softly, “Think I’ll let you off that easy? You know how this works, love.”

Her pleading eyes and blubbering words had his pants tightening further, “Please, Oscar, please.”

He kissed down her stomach, meeting her eyes with his hungry ones, “Gonna have to be patient for me, pretty girl. Can you do that for me?”

Another whine emitted from her mouth when he kissed the bone of her hip, nodding begrudgingly in agreement of his request.

He let his hands trail down her legs, hiking them up to rest on his shoulders as he let his hot breath fan over the place where she needed him the most. He knew exactly what he was doing to her, even more so with the way she tugged harshly on his hair and the pleas for his attention.

He gave into her, like he always did, when he traced a line up her slit with his tongue. When he got to the top, he found her clit easily, like he always did, and sucked aggressively on it, the jolt of pleasure forcing a loud moan of his name out of Y/n’s mouth. He continued that specific ministration for a few minutes, collecting the wetness of her pussy and using it to tease her further.

“Oh, fuck, Osc!” She yelped when he let his tongue prod her entrance, lining its outside before slipping in.

His hand let go of his hold on her thigh, coming up to circle her clit whilst he continued to fuck her with his tongue. What really did her in was when he started moaning against her, letting the vibrations spur on the coil in her stomach.

She was persistent, riding his face eagerly while messing up the styled hair he had put together that morning. Y/n’s consistent whimpering signaled to Oscar that she was so incredibly close and if it wasn’t for his good mood after the sprint race win, he wouldn’t have let her finish. Nonetheless, he pushed harder, tongue going faster and finger using his saliva that had pooled around her clit to bring her over the edge.

Her fingers tightened in his hair, back arching as she yelled out his name, a moaning chant of the syllables.

He pulled back when she came down, his mouth glistening with the mixture of her cum and his spit. He smiled up at her as she mirrored the facial expression. When he came up to kiss her, his hands roaming her body, the body he was intoxicated by, she flipped them over again. He stared up at her, slightly confused by the dominance she was emitting as she got off him and slowly took off the last pieces of clothing he wore, his pants and boxers.

His dick sprung out, red and wet with pre-cum, when she said, “Let me take care of you, Osc. For the sprint race win today.”

She didn’t allow for argument, shutting him up when she closed her mouth over the tip and licked around. His head fell back with a loud groan, hands flying to pull her hair into a ponytail.

“Oh, yeah, baby, just like that.” He moaned as she pushed her head all the way down, his dick hitting the back of her throat as she gagged.

She continued to move up and down on him, changing the routine further in by continuously letting the tip hit her throat. It was when his hips moved off the bed that she looked up at him, silently asking if he wanted to take control. His frantic gaze on hers told her everything she needed to know and when her throat opened, he gripped her hair tighter.

He sat up, determined to catch his high, as he was relentless with his thrusts. His moans were the loudest they had ever been, Y/n remembering to tease him about it later when he wasn’t shoved down her throat. She was turned on immensely by the fact that, as he let his head fall down to his chest with his eyes squeezed shut and groans high pitched, she was the reason for his pleasure. The girl wanted to imprint the image in her brain for times when he wasn’t there to satisfy the urges she had.

“Fuck! Y/n! Yes, baby! Yes! Yes! Yes!” He yelled out, spilling into her as he opened his eyes immediately to watch her throat work to swallow everything he gave her. His ears rang and his vision went blurry under the sight, a picture so dirty he never wanted to forget it.

Y/n was still pursuant even after he looked spent, standing back up and sitting on him. He turned soft to hard again in seconds under the feeling of her. She pushed him back down to his prior laying down position, murmuring something about wanting him to relax.

He was completely with that idea when she sank down on him and his mind went haywire. All he could think about was the feeling of her wrapped around him, squeezing tightly. They were already overstimulated by the previous organisms that this one came quicker.

Her hips snapped to meet his when he joined in on the rhythm, fucking up into her greedily. He moaned out whatever came to his mind, however dangerous that might be.

“Mmm, yes, Y/n. Love the way you feel. This pussy’s mine, yeah?”

She nodded, eyes closed shut under his pulsating dick.

“Wanna hear you say it, love.” He said, hands gripping at whatever skin of hers he could find.

Her words were said between groans, proving hard to get out as her hands laid against his chest, “I’m yours, Osc. All yours.”

That was it for him, cum spilling into her aggressively as he let out a choked, prolonged moan. His own finish triggered her own, mimicking his sounds and volume with the way it felt.

She collapsed onto him, his hands coming to circle around her, as they breathed each other in.

She could hear Oscar’s smile when he cockily whispered, “Imagine what’ll happen when I win my first race.”

—

Oscar was incredibly confused as he lingered in the corner of the paddock’s cafe. Y/n had gone off to order them coffees, their sleeping schedules being shit after the night they had before. Being alone without her, while he hated it, was usually doable as he had many friends around the grounds. This time, he had tried to join in on a conversation with Lando and Charles, but they had moved away from him when he got close. His head tilted, confusion taking over which was something his girlfriend immediately noticed when she returned.

“What’s wrong?”

He looked down at her, sipping on the warm drink she had placed in his hands, “Lando and Charles won’t talk to me?”

Her eyebrows scrunched together, “Huh. Maybe try to talk to them again and ask what’s going on?”

She noticed the way he shuffled his feet, a telltale sign of his nerves. She smiled as she put a hand on his shoulder, rubbing softly, “Want me to come with you?”

A smile broke out onto his face as he nodded eagerly, “Yeah.”

So, the two wandered over. Thankfully, the two drivers were too into whatever they were talking about that they didn’t notice the couple’s approach. Weird looks are shot toward Oscar and Y/n by Charles and Lando, an uncomfortable silence encompassing the moment for reasons two of them didn’t know.

Oscar cleared his throat, “What’s wrong with you two?”

Charles looked down, cheeks tinting red as Lando spoke up, “Charles and I had the rooms on the other sides of yours.”

Y/n shook her head, “Okay, and?”

Charles met their eyes, “We heard everything you guys got up to last night. And I mean everything.”

Oscar’s mouth dropped open and Y/n’s grip on his hand tightened. The couple stood in shock, staring at the other drivers as they tried to regain their coherence.

“Everything?” Oscar tried. Surely, he thought, they didn’t hear everything.

Lando nodded, “Down to the fucking end when you made her tell you she was yours.”

Charles slapped his friend’s chest, scolding him for his bluntness.

Lando continued, however, looking at them in astonishment, “You’re supposed to be a baby! How do you even know what sex is?!”

His yelping had the guests of the paddock turning their heads, warranting a warning look from Oscar.

The boy shook his head, “Lando, you’re literally a year older than me and you’re not that pure either.”

Lando let out an exasperated sigh, “I’m still older! You’re a kid! Babies can’t make babies!”

Y/n choked on her coffee, “We aren’t trying to make babies, Bob.”

Charles chuckled, “Are you sure? You two didn’t use protection! Which, might I add, is a stupid move, dumbasses!”

Oscar groaned, moving to say something, but Lando interrupted him, “No, nuh uh, you’re not allowed to groan in front of me. I will never hear it the same.”

“Whatever,” Oscar started, “Y/n and I have been together for years. It’s safe to not use protection.”

Charles shook his head, mumbling to himself in French, “Still should.”

Fernando’s voice flooded the conversation, “Still should what?”

Oscar was about to shut down the entire interaction, but Lando was quick to spill it, “Y/n and Oscar were so fucking loud when they were having sex last night. And Charles and I had to endure it without saying anything because how the fuck do you interrupt two people having sex? But, anyways, we heard everything and learned that they don’t use protection! We are trying to teach them that protection, even if you’ve been together for a while, is a smart decision.”

Fernando’s eyes blew wide, staring at his grid kids. He definitely could’ve gone the rest of his life without having to hear about Oscar’s and Y/n’s sex life.

He let out an hesitant chuckle, “Well, they are right, kids. Protection is a good thing to use.”

Oscar just turned slowly to look at his girlfriend beside him, mouth agape at the events transpiring before them.

“I do not need your guy’s input on my sex life.” He gave, starting to smile at their antics.

Charles scoffed, “Clearly, you do! Promise me you’ll use protection next time.”

Y/n laughed loudly, shaking her head and downing the rest of her coffee, “Thank you for the advice.” She deadpanned, walking away from the group to find the rest of the girls, wanting to fill them in on what had gone down.

She left Oscar to the nosy wolves, not feeling bad about it one bit.

The last thing she heard before she was fully out of ear shot was Lando’s yelp, “I never needed to know what you sounded like when you got a blowjob, dumb bitch!”

𝐡𝐭𝐭𝐩𝐬𝐬𝐞𝐫𝐞𝐧𝐞'𝐬 𝐟𝟏 𝐤𝐢𝐧𝐤𝐭𝐨𝐛𝐞𝐫 𝐬𝐩𝐞𝐜𝐢𝐚𝐥

𝐮𝐩𝐥𝐨𝐚𝐝 𝟑: 𝐨𝐬𝐜𝐚𝐫 𝐩𝐢𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐫𝐢 𝐱 𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫 | 𝐜𝐚𝐫 𝐬𝐞𝐱 & 𝐬𝐪𝐮𝐢𝐫𝐭𝐢𝐧𝐠

📖𝘀𝘂𝗺𝗺𝗮𝗿𝘆: your boyfriend has to make an appearance at some sponsor event. he's gone ahead and bought you an alluring outfit, but he failed to mention how seductive he looks in the new fitted suit his team got him. you two won't be staying long, but you increase the pace by riling him up, mostly unintentionally. so it's your fault that he makes you ruin his loaned mclaren. 📖𝗰𝗼𝗻𝘁𝗲𝗻𝘁 𝘄𝗮𝗿𝗻𝗶𝗻𝗴: 18+ only. explicit. squirting. car sex. semi-public sex. ooc (out-of-character) oscar. overstimulation. mild possessive behavior. mild jealousy. vaginal fingering. vaginal sex. condom usage. the audacity of men. lando norris’ savior complex /jk. author’s overuse of italics and run-on sentences. 📖𝘄𝗼𝗿𝗱 𝗰𝗼𝘂𝗻𝘁: 5k words 📖𝗽𝗮𝗶𝗿𝗶𝗻𝗴: oscar piastri x fem!black!reader 📖𝗴𝗲𝗻𝗿𝗲: oneshot. 📖𝘀𝗼𝘂𝗻𝗱𝘁𝗿𝗮𝗰𝗸: water • tyla

𝗽𝗿𝗲𝗳𝗮𝗰𝗲: what can i say, y'all. back at it with the unhinged thirst. every time i do one of these, they've been getting shorter and shorter. don't be afraid, for #4 (dr/mv) i'll be back on my game, they deserve it. yes gremlin lando appearance. also, i cannot imagine oscar ever acting this way, that's why i put the ooc tag? it's definitely a fun read tho (i think), along with the smut! thank you, loves, for the support on this event!

want to be added to my general taglist? or my f1 kinktober taglist? send me an ask!

thank you to my betas! @biancathecool for helping with my grammer and @barnestatic for her wonderful spoiled brat idea :))))

cross-posted on my ao3, httpsss

if you want to look at what i'm planning for ktober, or catch up on previous uploads here's my f1 kinktober masterlist and my general masterlist for all of my works!

oscar is known for his unfazed, composed and collected demeanor. he’s aware that some people say he has no personality–but, he’s just an introvert at the end of the day. oscar’s a man of few words: that’s what people who aren’t well acquainted with him would say. if you’ve had the pleasure of sticking around oscar long enough for him to become comfortable with you, you’ll learn that oscar has an incredibly complex personality. he’s overly sarcastic, has a niche sense of humor, and can ramble endlessly at you. but, he’s still a fairly calm and quiet individual. which is why the way oscar is about to scream at the top of his lungs in the middle of this mclaren event, would be considered uncharacteristic of him.

he originally invited you to join him tonight thinking that having you by his side would eliminate the social exhaustion he experiences at these types of sponsor events. however, the aussie failed to realize that you may introduce a…different problem, to tonight’s business party. when oscar asked you to join him two weeks ago, he was prepared for all of your objections–you’re both chronic homebodies, and you both hate partaking in small talk with balding, later-aged, cologne-drenched, white men who don’t know when to let a conversation die. he chose the perfect time to ask you (after you emerged from the bathroom post-self-care bath), and addressed all of your grievances. 

oh, you don’t have anything to wear? he already bought you an outfit, had it altered to perfectly fit your measurements, and bought you a pair of heels and a purse to match. oh, you won’t be able to get your hair done in time? he already scheduled an appointment with your usual hairstylist the day before the event, paid all of her fees, and tipped her very nicely. oh, your nails aren’t done?  he booked you a spot at your preferred nail salon for a premium mani-pedi, and has a few nail inspiration photos picked out if you can’t decide. if you need your lashes done or need to get waxed, he can make the call right now; he has them on standby to fit you in.

knowing the amount of phone calls oscar had to partake in to arrange all of this causes you to fold and agree to join him. there’s nothing more the two of you hate than making phone calls–well, besides the pr events.

oscar had chosen an alluring burnt-orange mesh corset and matching ruched ankle-length skirt that looks beautiful against your warm, soft and shining brown skin. your hair is silk-pressed, length reaching your mid-back and your edges are laid in a minimal manner, matching the simplicity of your makeup look. simple gold rings are spread across a few fingers, ears accessorized with a pair of small good hoops oscar gifted you, and his initials rest in the dip between your clavicles attached to a thin gold chain. objectively, you're considerably modestly dressed, the only skin you're showing is on your arms, shoulders, a smidge of your decolletage, and the tops of your feet in the low-heeled strappy sandals. 

this is the start of what oscar failed to account for. he didn’t expect the outfit to hug your curves like plastic wrap. the whole night he’s had to forcefully deny himself the opportunity to stare at your ass, but that doesn’t mean the other men at the event have the same courtesy. he’s taken to burning holes with his eyes into anybody who lets their gaze linger over your form for a second too long. on a regular day, oscar is generally unaffected by anyone who appreciates your body (they can look, but the second they try to touch–you let them know exactly how they had you fucked up), but if he catches one more mclaren engineer undressing you with their eyes–he will make zac fire all of them; he’ll plan his own race strategy and do his goddamn pitstop by himself.

oscar also didn’t account for how your timid and sweet attitude would have everyone enamored with you; at first, watching everyone eagerly attune to your shy words was amusing to him, but it quickly became a nuisance. he was originally leading you around the room, doing his rounds at any important figures’ tables, and everything was fine. and then, oscar had made the obvious mistake of making you laugh–a pleasant stream of giggles spilling from your lips, dimples deepening, and smile widening at whatever small joke he made. he’s always thrilled to see how you throw your head back in amusement, how your hands clap together gleefully, and how your eyes squint in from the force of your laughter. as he shakes himself out of your dazzling trance, he attempts to rejoin the conversation–but every single person at the table remains entranced and wide-eyed at you. 

this would be completely fine, of course, if it was a one-off occasion; but it’s not. 

suddenly, every person oscar tries to thank for supporting mclaren, starts ignoring him and paying more attention to you. he’s literally the pilot of the car that these people are spending an absurd amount of money on, but they can’t even bother to try and pretend to listen to him. men and women alike are finding any excuse to prolong conversations with you, and even lean within your personal space with the excuse that ‘they can’t hear you very well because you’re so soft spoken.’ nobody can invade your personal space, but oscar. he has no choice but to do the very thing he hates–pda. you continue to circle around the room, his hand constantly resting on the small of your back or the dip of your waist. when you’re in the middle of listening to some completely unnecessary story a man is telling you, oscar constantly adjusts your hair, plays with your rings, and smooths down your skirt if he feels like they’re trying too hard. you banish oscar to getting you a glass of water when he begins to interject in conversations in a passive-aggressive manner.

his third strike off the night, might actually be an overall win in his books. when you saw oscar in his new fitted suit, you stared him dead in the eye and told him to ‘get naked and rail you’. it’s this beautiful deep cream color that pairs perfectly with the dark orange tone of your outfit, but the vest underneath the suit jacket highlights his tiny waist so clearly that it makes you want to scream. in between socializing, you overwhelm oscar with compliments, unable to stop telling him how handsome he looks. you surgically attach yourself to his side and hug his arm; taking an occasional squeeze of his bicep, playing with his cufflinks, and tracing the veins on the back of his hand. oscar practically runs to get you a refill of water because he’d be unable to stop himself from getting fully hard if you touched him any longer–the trousers hide nothing.

he can feel your burning gaze from across the room, and turns back to watch you after asking a waiter for water, and catches your eyes roaming the length of his body. in high-definition, he sees your tongue wetting your lips before you bite at your bottom lip–and then, your attention is stolen away from some random man who’s introducing himself to you and the group of ladies you found yourself accosted by as soon as oscar left your side.

and, that’s it for oscar. he thinks he may have heard his last-fucking-button being pressed inside his head, and seethes. he goes to push off from his leaned stance against the counter and makes to start his warpath, but a hand grasps at his shoulder. oscar turns around snappily, biting out an irritated and sarcastic, “can i help you?”

“woah! calm down now, mate. thought you were going to bite my head off for a second,” it’s lando, “if i were anybody else i’m sure there would be an unfortunate tabloid of ‘how oscar piastri is the most rude f1 driver on the grid’” lando jokes teasingly, yet a hint of seriousness leaks into his tone. 

oscar nods, understanding the underlying warning within the brit’s teasing. he apologizes softly to lando, before glancing back over at you, and can infer that you charmingly informed the man that you have a boyfriend—based on the way you point in his direction. oscar watches the polite smile fade from your face as the man continues to bother you, and the murderous look rises to his face again.

“OKAY”, lando claps abruptly, startling not only oscar, but everyone in a 10 foot radius. lando waves everyone else’s eyes away, smiling like he didn’t do anything, and speaks underneath his breath, “go. i’ll cover for you.”

oscar’s mouth drops open, baffled, “what?”

“leave—get your girlfriend and go,” lando says matter-of-factly, his smile becoming genuine, “zac probably won’t like to hear that you looked particularly murderous, and he definitely won’t like hearing that you slaughtered our sponsors, and that i let it happen.”

oscar snorts before he thanks lando sincerely, and the brit dismisses him, “i’m just looking out for my rookie teammate as the senior driver for our team. i can’t let your horny teenage mindset become common knowledge to our esteemed guests.”

“first of all,” oscar says dryly, his grateful mood dissipating at the mocking, “i didn’t even know you knew the word ‘esteemed' existed,” lando scoffs, “and secondly, you are literally only two years older than me.”

lando looks at oscar with a blank stare and deadpans, “do you want to leave or not?”

oscar daps up his teammate in farewell, and makes his way over to you as quickly as he can without seeming desperate, your glass of water left behind on the counter. your back is facing him as he approaches and you're still unwillingly participating in conversation with the man who can’t take no for an answer. as he gets closer, he can piece together the conversation; the dude doesn’t believe you have a boyfriend and you must be lying to him, and you’re adamant that your boyfriend is very real.

“look, bro. even if i was lying about having a boyfriend, why would i give you my number now? like, i’m just supposed to forget how you’ve been harassing me—“

oscar rests his hand on your side, and when you turn your head to see who’s touching you, he leans down and kisses you. it’s a kiss deep enough to let everyone know who you’re leaving with tonight, but not deep enough to be salacious (he can hear lando’s cackle from the other side of the room).

you melt into his kiss before he pulls away, leaving you dazed and disoriented, stumbling into him. oscar drapes his left arm around your shoulder, guiding you to tuck into his side, while he offers his right hand to the offending man for a handshake. “it seems i haven’t had the pleasure of meeting you yet. i’m oscar, i drive for mclaren,” he introduces himself, sounding overly pleased.

the man angers, ignoring oscar’s extended hand and cockily states, “you should already know who i am. my family nicely lent you the mclaren you drove here tonight!”

“ah,” oscar smiles viciously, “if ‘your family’ kindly lent me the car, that would explain why i only remember your father’s name–and not his arrogant, disrespectful, and narcissistic trust-fund son’s name.”

the man stomps his foot in rage, like a spoiled brat, and questions, “who do you think you’re talking too?!”

oscar smirks, “nobody important, apparently,” (one of the ladies listening whispers a quiet ‘damn, that’s crazy’), oscar continues, “don’t worry, mate–i’ll make sure your father’s car returns home to him safely. should i bill you for any cleaning, in case i make a mess of it?”

the guy stumbles over a response before he scoffs and stomps away. oscar shrugs uncaring, before addressing the group of ladies who were cliqued to the side watching the whole interaction, “well. if you all don’t mind, i’m just going to steal her away from you ladies, if that’s okay?” (like there’s an option). the ladies fawn over oscar’s protectiveness before they let the two of you go, and then he starts herding you towards the exit.

it’s torture. in every five steps the two of you take, you're interrupted by various guests trying to catch you one last time. oscar feels like they’re all intentionally aggravating him; patting you on the arm, commenting on how eye-catching you look, and using the fact that the two of you are leaving to press a kiss to your hand in goodbye. you two burst out of the main doors and sigh in relief, for different reasons–for you, it’s because oscar didn’t give one of his sponsors brain damage, and for oscar, it’s because he’s one step closer to getting you in his bed.

you grasp at oscar’s hand, and he starts to lead you down the steps towards the valet, and as you fall into step at his side, you speak softly under your breath, “i can understand why you kissed me like that inside because the dude was being an asshole–even though you were marking your territory like some kind of dog–but, please; don’t tear this poor man’s throat out for helping me into the car.”

the australian remains quiet, properly chastised and works on releasing the pent up effect of the annoyances from inside the venue. everything is going well; the valet asks oscar for his parking ticket, and he goes to grab the keys, but stops just before he makes to start heading to the car, and turns back to you two and says, “i don’t know if i told you when you walked in but–you look incredibly beautiful tonight, miss. you could be a model, seriously. like, you should feel so lucky to have a woman like her–”

all attempts of oscar finding his peace are thrown out of the window. he interrupts the dude’s rambling, and bites out, “hey man, y’know what. i can just take the keys to the car. we can walk to it.”

the valet stutters, confused, “a-are you sure, i mean it’s like pretty far in the back. i can run and get it no pro–”

“it’s FINE! i mean, it’s cool, we can use the extra steps, y’know. enjoy the breeze and everything,” oscar says, slightly maniacal. there’s no breeze, it’s warm. the valet’s and your eyes meet for a second and a shared thought of “he’s trippin” is passed telepathically.

the valet concedes, not wanting to upset the f1 driver any farther and tosses him the keys. as the two of you are passing by, oscar hands the man a bill that’s probably too big based on the man’s astonished gasp. you call out to the man, continuing to walk further in the lot, “sorry about him! he just gets a little touchy about strangers driving his car, y’know?” oscar grumbles lowly next to you, and you smack him on the arm, “what did you want me to say? ‘oh sorry, my boyfriend just wants to fuck me really badly to soothe his needless jealousy?’”

“as long as he knows who’s the one who gets to take you home and fuck you.”

“oscar!” you squeak, “we both know we’d die of embarrassment if you said that. i can’t even imagine those words coming out of your mouth, in that order.”

you guys eventually puzzle out where the car is after several remote beeps of the car’s horn, and find that it’s literally tucked away in the last row, far corner with no surrounding cars for two rows.

oscar doesn’t open your door like he usually does, and leads you around to the driver's side. he opens the door, pushes the seat back as far as it goes, and sits down. without saying anything, he loosens his tie and goes to unbuckle his belt before you reach down and grab at his hand, bewildered, “oscar jack! what the fuck are you doing?”

he blinks, “i’m fucking you, right now. it’s too long of a drive back—i’m going to crash the car if you keep sitting next to me in that goddamn outfit. i was going to take you to the bathroom inside, but i figured you’d at least prefer the car. you can be a little louder here.”

your mouth dries, “you said they loaned you an incredibly rare, vintage mclaren, babe. i’m not gonna-“

oscar wrestles his way out of his suit jacket, spreads it underneath him on the leather seat, and pats his lap. “problem solved.”

shifting your weight, you glance around nervously. oscar is right, you would prefer the car over the bathroom. all those people inside who could overhear, gossip, and spread the news of how rookie mclaren, f1 driver, oscar piastri, had you yelling his name in the middle of an event. you’d pass.

“oh, c’mon now, babe. you didn’t think i saw the way you were eating me alive with your eyes inside,” your boyfriend teases, “i know you‘ve at least gotten a little wet for me already, haven’t you?”

that’s all it takes; the australian acting possessive and feening to get inside you is more than enough to have you straddling his lap and pulling the car door shut with a slam.

oscar tugs you into dirty make out, and you get lost in his pink lips, tugging teeth, and explorative tongue. the last of your breath tapers out in a reedy moan, and you break the kiss to pant against his lips, and oscar laughs. his laughter spreads through your chest, and it has your hips rolling against the bulge you feel underneath you. his amusement is cut off, and his hands fly to grip at your hips. he starts tugging you against him in a filthy grind, and choked off moans from the two of you start to fill the car.

you press kisses to oscar’s jaw line, paving a path down to his wide strong neck with your tongue. you suck on small patches of skin, not using enough suction to leave a mark, but enough for oscar to become aware of the fantasization that you could. the aussie gasps at every random suckle of your lips as he scrambles to pull the skirt up your legs. you shift your hips up to make it easier for him, as your hands feel down his torso to his belt. it unbuckles fairly easily, and you shove it out of the way, to unzip the slacks and pull his cock out.

oscar moans, throwing his head back at the feel of your hand on his length, and you get entranced in the trap that his pale thick neck is, again. you hum against his neck, introducing teeth alongside the ache of the suction of your mouth, and bully the collar of his shirt out of the way to find a space to leave a few marks. oscar’s breath freezes at the first hickey he feels you leave, but the rapid inhale he takes next clears his mind enough to have his right hand pull your panties to the side, and move to caress your heat.

you shudder on top of him, your breathy sigh amplified within the car. oscar sinks two fingers inside of you, and a much louder moan is tugged out. your hands fly up to grasp onto his shoulder, and your head tilts backward away from his neck in pleasure. his fingers thrust into you gently for a few beats slowly working to open you up for him and once he feels your cunt starting to relax, his thumb reaches to press at your clit. whines fill the air, as you lean all the way back, resting your back on the steering wheel allowing oscar all the space he needs to stretch you out. his fingers start curling as they drag out of you, and you can feel the pads of his fingers rubbing over a soft spot on the front of your walls. 

oscar’s eyes were stuck marveling over the overwhelmed expression on your face, but once he starts feeling wetness dripping down his arm he glances down, and curses out a rough, “fuck, baby—you’re dripping all over me.” your cheeks burn hot, and you can’t tell if that’s out of humiliation or the effect of his awe-filled voice. your right hand releases his shoulder, and bats at his arm, before tugging at his wrist to pull his fingers out, “that’s enough, mmm, just get in me already.”

oscar eagerly draws away; he uses his clean hand to tug his wallet out of his back pocket, and tugs a condom out with a smidge of struggle before handing it to you. you snatch it out of his hand, biting it open and rolling it over his cock, and once it’s on, you tease, “jeez, osc. you really were planning on jumping me in the middle of the event tonight—grabbing a condom and everything; you think i’m that easy?”

he chuckles, satisfied, his hand drenched in your wetness rubbing over his cock to get him slick, and teases back, “you’re about to ride my cock in the parking lot of said event, pretending to be worried about ruining the seats of this vintage car. i’m not calling you easy, but it doesn’t hurt to be prepared, does it?”

your cheeks are definitely burning from humiliation this time around, but you huff, ignoring him checking you. you tug his hand away, raising your hips, and guide him to your entrance with your own hand, before slowly sinking down. 

twin sets of moans fill the air as he bottoms out; one of his hands reaches to palm at your ass (it’s sticky, so it must be the one he fingered you with), and the other grips at your waist tightly. you squirm on top of him, knees barely managing to find enough room to prop on the seat to give you a stable base. once you feel stable in your cramped position, you give a testing grind of your hips, and from there, it’s lights out.

oscar lets you set the pace for a few thrusts, suffering in the languid rock of your hips; you’re torturously tight around him, and he can only groan at the feeling of you wrapped around him. his chest heaves, before he brings both hands to halt your hips, and starts fucking up into you rough and quick. a scream jostles out of your throat at the unexpected change of speed, but you just take it with no complaints, allowing yourself to go limp against the wheel of the car to hold your body upright. he moves your body for you, pulling you downwards to meet his upward thrusts; and you feel him constantly applying pressure against that one tender spot right under your navel.

your boyfriend revels in the sound of the moans he’s punching out of your throat, admiring the way your head is thrown back—mouth open wide, eyes scrunched tight, lips bruised and bitten to hell. it’s a lewd picture, painted by himself. the car rocks along to his frantic rhythm, windows fogging, and sweat begins to form on both of your skin. the aussie’s core tightens; he won’t last much longer, you’ve had him half-hard the whole night.

a frustrated grunt escapes oscar, and you hum questionably about to ask what’s wrong–but his right hand leaves your waist to furiously start circling your clit, and an ear piercing shriek leaves you. “c’mon now, babe. ah-be good and come f’me yeah? im so close, baby–please,” he babbles, the last shred of sanity leaving him. his hips don’t falter once–to you it feels like they’re moving quicker, every sensitive spot receiving attention from the sharp snaps of them.

you cry out, it’s all too much; your hand reaches down to press against his navel in a feeble attempt to stop him from stroking so deep and roughly, and incoherent pleads try and tumble out of your mouth, “mm! osc–no! ah–too much, baby! it’s too much–hngh–feels weird–s-slow down!” it’s like his ears are filled with cotton; he can hear you begging down at him but can’t make out what your saying over the blood rushing in his ears. he’s trapped staring at your pretty cunt, watching the obscene amount of wetness coming out of you–the suit jacket underneath him is completely ruined, and he off-handedly thinks it won’t be saving the leather upholstery.

your legs start quivering and trembling–it damn near looks like you're freezing to death, even though the car has become as humid as a sauna. your own orgasm shocks you, and your eyes roll back erotically–unable to give oscar any warning. and in your last moment of awareness, you realize that something feels different, but it’s too late.

you choke on your scream of, “oscar, fuck!” as fluid gushes out of your cunt, and the first wave is enough to completely drench oscar’s pants, and oscar finally returns to the moment in amazement. he eagerly brushes his hand against your clit, and shortens his strokes to quick little jabs to force more of your juices out, and you can only ride along. you try to slam your legs shut, to jostle oscar’s hand away, but it’s futile with his torso propping you open for him. you’re sobbing messily, as he forces more liquid to spray from your cunt–and he moans out his own orgasm, ripped from him in surprise. the australian halts his stimulation this time around when you frantically tug his wrist away when the pleasure melds to pain, and allows himself to get a few more jerks of his hips in.

you fall forward, collapsing into his chest–the squelch of your thighs meeting his pant-covered ones has him humming and grinding his hips into you as gently as he can. the two of you shake against each other, hearts rabbiting as you catch your breath. oscar’s hands rise to rub at your back, bringing you down from the aftershocks still trembling over your body. 

“i-i’ve never squirted before,” you whisper into his neck.

your boyfriend hums softly, “did you like it?”

he feels you nod against him shyly.

“then, it’s nothing to be embarrassed about,” he comforts, knowing if he seems approving of it, you’ll be quicker to accept it as something good, “how i’m going to explain the ruined suit and car seat to mclaren on the other hand…”

a shaky laugh from you causes oscar to smile, “i told you you shouldn’t fuck me in the car.”

“how was i supposed to know that tonight would be the night i’d made you gush all over me?! i was hoping that when the time came we’d at least be on a couch,” he whines.

“shut the fuck up,” you joke, “i want a live play by play when you explain the cleaning bill to zac.”

the aussie pauses, faking thoughtfulness, “maybe i should send the bill to the trust-fund baby. zac would back me up–he’s american, he’d probably find it hilarious.”

oscar gently shifts you over to the passenger seat, and you tug your skirt all the way down, and he fights his way out of his slacks that stuck to his thighs with your wetness. he manages to wrangle them off and kicks them to the side of the car floor along with the soiled suit jacket, after fishing the keys out of them, sitting out in his boxers, and glances over to see you adjusting your appearance as best as you possibly can.

“you want a mcflurry?” the aussie offers.

“as long as we can get a fry with it,” you smile at the random shift in conversation, allowing him to hide his embarrassment.

oscar turns the keys in the ignition, and the engine rolls into life with a deep, vibrating hum. he catches your legs pressing together tightly, and you squirm at the purr of the engine under your seat.

“well,” oscar starts nonchalantly as he reverses out of the spot, “you have the time that it takes to get from the drive-through to the flat to finish eating–because as soon as we get home, i’m taking you to bed and learning how to make you squirt, consistently. i don’t care how long it takes, or how many orgasms you have–i’ll keep going ‘til you come dry, babe.”

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© httpsserene 2023

Soft ~ Fernando Alonso

♡ Fernando Alonso x Reader

Description: Fernando tries to surprise you.

~fluff~

You stretch as you wake up, reaching over for Fernando.

He's not there.

You mooch over and cling to his pillow as you wonder where he's gone to this early on his day off.

Then you hear a clatter from downstairs.

You idly wonder what your boyfriend is doing as you get out of bed and lazily get dressed in leggings and one of his t-shirts as the clattering is joined by some banging.

"Baby?" You call as you descend the stairs and make your way to the kitchen.

It's there you find a shirtless Fernando cursing in Spanish, his hair dishevelled and what seems like half the contents of the kitchen strew on the countertops.

"Cariño, no you can't see, it's a surprise." He tells you just before whatever he's accidently burning in the frying pan causes the fire alarm to wail.

More curse words fall from his mouth as he moves the frying pan aside and swiftly places a good morning kiss on your lips before turning off the alarm.

He sighs and looks around, "I did not mean to make such a mess."

"What is all this for?" You ask, closing the space between you two and trailing your hands over his tense shoulders and around to the nape of his neck.

He deflates into your touch, "Can I not do something nice for the love of my life without a reason huh?" He places a kiss to the corner of your mouth.

You practically beam at him, "Of course you can." You are rewarded with sweet kisses peppered over your cheeks, your forehead, any part of your face he could reach while he pulled your body flush to his.

"But you, Fernando..." You say, placing your own kiss on his jawline to get his attention, "...are a meticulous planner, so there is a reason."

"It's our anniversary." He admits.

"Our anniversary isn't for another two months." You argue.

He grins, "Not our first date. Of the first time I saw you."

You worried for the state of your heart as it melted at his words.

"And you mentioned last week that none of your exes had ever made you breakfast in bed." His eyes darken as if he wanted to hurt anyone who had ever hurt you, "And I wanted to prove to you, you deserve to be taken care of, you deserve to be spoiled. You are wonderful, you need to be treated right." He says with passion.

Panic overtakes his features when you tear up at his words.

"Happy tears." You whisper in reassurance, "I love you."

"I love you more." He says and lights up when you laugh at his trademark competitive streak.

"You are a big softie underneath that hard exterior Baby." You grin at him, after he places his forehead against yours.

He pulls away as if puffing up his chest and huffs, "I am not soft."

He sounds so affronted, it makes you laugh. "Yes you are. And I love it."

He jokingly looks around as if not wanting anyone else to hear, "Fine, but only for you."

"Of course. You're all mine." You say proudly, running your hand through his messed up hair.

"And you are mine." He confirms with a playful growl and one of his heated kisses that never fails to make you weak at the knees.

"But I think I should stick to driving and not cooking." He contemplates as he practically holds you up as you recover.

"Probably for the best." You nod. "It was the thought that counts anyway, so thank you."

"Anything for you, Cariño, always."

idk why but i can image seb making baby leclerc ride him but he refuses to help her kinda just going use me how you like darling because he wants to see her teary eyed and begging, just reaffirms that hes the only one who can get her off properly. like aww poor baby cant even get her body to listen to her, this is why youre all mine

WLCBDKCJ SEB U FOKKENG BETCH

"i c-can't seb," you choke on a sob, eyes brimming with unshed tears out of frustration and sheer fucking need, your knees were sore and your legs were practically non existent from holding the position for an unsatisfying amount of time. "please, i-i can't." you whine, blinking rapidly as the tears finally slipped down your cheeks.

you were a needy mess. a beautiful spoiled piece of work... and sebastian wanted you to stay that way. his needy little princess, so dependent on him.

"poor baby can't handle taking care of herself," he tuts, cupping your face gently and cooing, "just bounce, yeah? up, down." he coaxes you, allowing a slight hint of mercy to overcome his unrelenting demeanor, and meeting your hips with a forceful thrust. you gasped.

"i-i cant, sebby." you whine, now full on sobbing and whining. your hands touching upon his naked torso. "please.. please just fuck me already."

sebastian feigns pity, wiping your tears with such a tender caress, you instinctively lean in to his touch. "what would people say if they see you baby? you know you have a reputation, so kind... so innocent..."

you sob, "dont care... wan' you, please seb." you guide his hands to where you met, moaning when his hands touched upon you.

"always have to fucking get what you want," he grunts, eyes darkening. he pulls you in for a searing kiss, both tongue and teeth clashing in the desperate tangle— and he fucks into you, your body thrumming by the way his thrusts were acquainted with that... that sweet spot that made you compliant in his hold.

"who can fuck you like i do?" he mumbles, breathing ragged, your response was merely a plethora of undistinguished whines and helpless moans. "who can make you feel this good?"

"seb..." you writhe, gripping his shoulders for something tangible to hold.

"no one else hase. nobody can make you feel like i do." he whispers on the strands of your hair. certain. so self sure. so fucking cocky.

Max Verstappen x fem!reader (implied Horner!reader)

The world didn't revolve around him, he'd been told, he knew. He accepted it, because he also knew that all that didn't matter. Not when he was able to watch you.

You and your risqué dance moves, the way your tits bounced so perfectly in your tight dress, your hand creeping down your stomach, your eyeliner that is smuched just the right amount.

Max knows, he shouldn't be looking at you like this, his boss' daugther, that is just ever so slightly too young for him. He's tried to stop, he really has. But he has agree with that one person on twitter; you certainly ooze sex.

He doesn’t realise that you’ve moved away from the dance floor and that you’re now leaning both your hands on the table before his manspreading self. Leaving him a, dare he say, amazing view down your dress, you smirk.

“Hey Maxie,” you slur, removing yourself from your position, rounding the table and sitting down in his lap, your arms sneaking around his neck, his head practically shoved to your tits. Not that he minds.

Max’s hand immediately finds its way to your thigh, your short dress has ridden even higher up, he attempts to pull it down.

“Hey schat” Max is way to drunk for this, he can’t control himself, not when you, the subject of his wet dreams is sitting on his lap.

You slowly lean closer to his ear whispering:

“Can you help me, maxie?”

He gulps, a drop of sweat slowly disappearing between your breasts.

“What?” He mumbles back.

“I’m really needy right now,” you practically moan in his ear, “just need you to take away the ache down there…”you glance down at your lap.

“Fuck baby,” he breathes out, clearly stressed, you’re now looking at him with this sweet smile.

“Wanna go?”

He nods.

"The Baby Glimmer"

Pairing: husband!Aaron Hotchner x wife!reader

Genre: fluff

Words: 4.4k

Warnings: Mentions of pregnancy, wanting a baby, heated/romantic fade-to-black intimacy, kissing

Summary: Where Aaron gets baby fever.

a/n: Well, since most of you voted for 2nd person writing, I'll try that from now on.

The first time you noticed it, you didn’t think much of it.

Aaron and you were walking through the mall one rainy Saturday afternoon, grabbing a few things for Jack’s school project. He’d been in need of some craft supplies and, as usual, Aaron wanted everything to be perfect.

You were strolling past a baby boutique on the way to the bookstore when Aaron slowed to a stop. He glanced at the window display—a collection of tiny onesies and soft teddy bears arranged artfully—and a soft, almost wistful smile crept across his face.

You stopped beside him, raising an eyebrow. “What?”

He gestured to a fluffy teddy bear in the center of the display, its bowtie slightly askew. “That’s cute,” he said simply. “Babies would love it.”

You blinked. Aaron Hotchner, notorious for his stoic demeanor, commenting on teddy bears?

“Yeah,” you replied, eyeing him suspiciously. “It’s… adorable.”

Aaron nodded, his hand briefly brushing against yours before he turned back toward the bookstore. “Come on,” he said over his shoulder, his voice calm and measured as always.

You stared after him for a moment, a small smile tugging at your lips. Maybe he was just in a good mood.

---

Then there was JJ’s baby shower.

Aaron had insisted on going. “She’s family,” he’d said when you asked him about it. “It’s important to support her.”

And support her he did.

He spent the entire afternoon helping set up decorations, arranging tiny cupcakes on trays, and offering to hold the baby while JJ unwrapped gifts. It was… unexpected, to say the least.

At one point, you caught him holding JJ’s newborn, his expression so soft it made your chest ache. He was cooing gently, his deep voice low and soothing as he rocked the baby in his arms.

You tried not to stare. You really did. But the sight of Aaron Hotchner—gruff, protective, usually all-business—cradling a baby like it was the most natural thing in the world was enough to make anyone’s heart skip a beat.

“Wow,” Emily whispered, nudging you with her elbow. “If I didn’t know any better, I’d say Hotch has baby fever.”

You laughed, brushing off the comment. “Please. He’s just being nice.”

But even as you said it, you couldn’t ignore the way your stomach fluttered when Aaron caught your eye across the room and smiled.

---

It wasn’t just JJ’s baby. It was everywhere.

You were at the grocery store one evening when it happened again. You had split up to cover more ground, and found him standing in the baby aisle when you came to find him.

“Aaron?” You asked, raising an eyebrow as you approached.

He looked up, a faint blush creeping up his neck as he held up a tiny pair of baby shoes. “Look at these,” he said, his voice softer than usual. “They’re so small.”

You stared at him, your heart doing that annoying fluttering thing again. “Uh… yeah,” you said slowly. “Babies tend to have small feet.”

Aaron chuckled, setting the shoes back on the shelf. “Right. Of course.”

You watched him for a moment, suspicion creeping in. Something was definitely up.

---

The team noticed it, too.

“He’s acting weird,” Derek said one afternoon, leaning back in his chair as he sipped his coffee.

“Weirder than usual?” Emily quipped, smirking.

“No, like… softer,” Derek replied, gesturing toward Aaron’s office. “Have you seen the way he’s been with JJ’s baby? Or how he’s been staring off into space lately? It’s like he’s distracted by something.”

Emily glanced at you, her eyebrows raised. “Any idea what’s going on with him?”

You shrugged, playing dumb. “No clue. Maybe he’s just tired.”

But even as you said it, you couldn’t ignore the way Aaron had been looking at you lately—the way his eyes lingered just a little longer than usual, the way he reached for your hand more often, the way his touch was softer, more deliberate.

---

It all came to a head one quiet evening at home.

Jack was asleep, and Aaron and you were curled up on the couch, a movie playing in the background. You’d been watching him out of the corner of your eye all night, trying to piece together what was going on in that brilliant, complicated mind of his.

Finally, you couldn’t take it anymore.

“Aaron,” you said, turning to face him.

He looked down at you, his dark eyes warm and attentive. “Yes?”

You hesitated, searching for the right words. “You’ve been… different lately. Distracted. Is everything okay?”

Aaron’s brow furrowed slightly, and for a moment, you thought he was going to brush it off. But then he sighed, his shoulders relaxing as he reached for your hand.

“There’s something I’ve been thinking about,” he admitted, his voice low and steady.

You nodded, encouraging him to continue.

“It’s just… seeing JJ with her baby, and watching Jack grow up… It’s made me think about us. About our future.”

Your heart skipped a beat, and you felt a blush creeping up your neck. “What about our future?”

Aaron’s thumb brushed over the back of your hand, his touch warm and comforting. “I’ve been thinking about having another baby. With you.”

His words hung in the air between us, and for a moment, you couldn’t speak.

“A baby?” you whispered, your voice barely audible.

He nodded, his eyes searching yours for a reaction. “I know it’s a big decision, and I don’t want to pressure you. But I can’t stop thinking about it. About what it would be like to build a family with you.”

Tears prickled at the corners of your eyes, and you felt a lump forming in your throat.

“Aaron,” you began, your voice trembling. “I… I don’t know what to say.”

He cupped my face in his hands, his gaze filled with love and hope. “You don’t have to say anything right now. Just think about it. That’s all I’m asking.”

You nodded, leaning into his touch as tears spilled down your cheeks. You loved this man so much.

---

Over the next few days, you couldn’t stop thinking about Aaron’s words.

You watched him more closely than ever, noticing the way he doted on Jack, the way he smiled whenever you passed by a baby in the park, the way he held you just a little tighter at night.

And the more you thought about it, the more the idea began to take root in your heart.

It was a week later, during a quiet evening at home, that you finally found the courage to bring it up again.

You were sitting at the dining table, finishing the last of your dinner, when you set your fork down and looked at him.

“Aaron,” you said softly.

He glanced up, his expression instantly attentive. “Yes?”

You took a deep breath, your fingers nervously twisting the hem of your shirt. “I’ve been thinking about what you said. About having a baby.”

His eyes softened, and you saw the faintest glimmer of hope in his gaze. “And?”

You smiled, your heart pounding as you reached for his hand. “And… I think I want that, too. With you.”

Aaron’s face lit up, a smile spreading across his lips as he squeezed your hand.

“You have no idea how happy that makes me,” he murmured, his deep voice warm and full of unspoken emotion.

You laughed through the tears welling in your eyes, unable to look away from the sheer adoration in his gaze. “I think I do,” you said softly, brushing your thumb over his knuckles.

Aaron’s other hand reached up, his fingertips tenderly brushing a stray tear from your cheek. “You’re really ready for this?” he asked, his tone quiet and reverent, like he didn’t want to break the fragile bubble of this moment.

You nodded, your throat tight with emotion. “With you? Yes. A thousand times yes.”

His dark eyes softened even further, the kind of look that always made you feel like you were the only person in the world to him. He kissed you then—slow and deliberate, pouring every ounce of love and gratitude into the motion.

When he finally pulled back, you noticed the faintest mischievous glint in his eye, something you rarely saw but secretly adored. His lips quirked into a small, almost playful smile.

“Well,” he said, his voice dropping just slightly, “if we’re going to have a baby… shouldn’t we start practicing?”

You blinked at him, stunned for half a second before a breathless laugh escaped your lips. “Oh, really?” you teased, tilting your head as you looked at him. “You don’t waste any time, do you?"

His grin widened just a fraction as he leaned closer, his thumb tracing slow circles over the back of your hand. “Why would I, when we could make this moment count?” His voice was a low rumble now, filled with a heated edge that sent a shiver down your spine.

The air between you shifted—charged and electric, crackling with the kind of tension that made your pulse race.

“Aaron…” You whispered, your voice catching in your throat as he cupped your cheek, his touch so gentle yet so deliberate.

“Yes?” he murmured, his lips brushing against the corner of your mouth, teasing you with just the faintest ghost of a kiss.

You couldn’t help the smile that tugged at your lips, your hands sliding up to rest against his chest. “You’re not playing fair.”

He hummed low in his throat, his other hand settling on your waist, pulling you just a little closer. “I don’t plan to.”

The next kiss wasn’t soft. It wasn’t careful. It was full of unspoken promises and barely contained need, his lips moving against yours with a hunger that made your knees weak.

You gasped as he shifted, lifting you effortlessly into his arms as though you weighed nothing. Your hands tangled in his shirt as he carried you toward the bedroom, his lips never straying far from yours.