#BOSS Blues Driver

[adamharkus]

Guitar Overdrive Pedal Shootout: BOSS Blues Driver BD-2 Review

The 6th and final chapter of my Guitar Overdrive Pedal Shootout series. Before we start, a recap of the situation so far…… After being spoilt with fantastic overdriven amps in the past, (Marshalls, Oranges, and last but not least my Cornford Roadhouse 30 combo),  I decided to simplify my setup, and instead of using the OD channel of my amp and its FX loop for delays, etc, I decided to purchase…

[musicianfiend]

Play it: ZZ Top's "Just Got Paid"

Getting the guitar tone from ZZ Top’s “Just Got Paid” requires a specific setup and attention to detail. This iconic song features Billy Gibbons’ distinctive guitar sound, which is characterized by a combination of factors including his guitar choice, amplifier setup, effects, and playing style. Here’s how you can try to get close to that tone: Guitar Choice Billy Gibbons is known for using a…

[fuzzkaizer]

Boss - Blues Driver

"Super modified ... with circuit bend fuzz accessible on the fly via the top mounted momentary footswitch."

cred: facebook.com/Speeb Hamiltron

[killjoy-prince]

Ray's After Ending is so funny because for a good chunk of it, most of the RFA members are knocked out by V's sleeping gas (Saeran is immune, Saeyoung isn't present bc he was kidnapped by his agency under his father's orders and MC wakes up in like an hour) but the game has a call feature where you can call the characters and it would be a waste if you couldn't use it bc the characters were unavailable so instead they have other people pick up the call (Jumin's driver picks up Jumin's phone, Jumin's father picks up Zen's phone, Yoosung's friends and mom pick up Yoosung's phone and Jaehee's coworkers pick up Jaehee's phone) and we do get to learn about the characters from outsider's point of view but it's so funny to me that these people are visiting their loved ones and suddenly the phone rings and they decide to just. answer it. and start talking to this stranger they've never met

[horrorwebs]

good goth stores in greenwich village? specifically looking for boots

[guitarbomb]

BOSS Celebrates 50 Years with Limited-Edition Pedals

BOSS Celebrates 50 Years with a nod to its illustrious history, BOSS proudly unveils the special 50th-anniversary editions of three iconic pedals: the DS-1 Distortion (DS-1-B50A), SD-1 Super Overdrive (SD-1-B50A), and BD-2 Blues Driver (BD-2-B50A). BOSS Celebrates 50 Years These limited-edition pedals pay homage to the legendary BOSS compact pedal lineup, with only 7,000 units available…

[fangirl-dot-com]

🚕Accidentally Kidnapping a Mafia Boss

*part of the reverse tropes series*

Pairing: MafiaBoss!Max Verstappen x UberDriver!Reader Genre: Crack/Humor/Fluff? Summary: Uber seemed like a brilliant plan to get money to buy a new car. However, a mistake has you picking up the wrong passenger. Pretty blue eyes turn dangerous when you notice the gun in his belt.

*this was actually so much fun to write! this is in no way dark whatsoever. it's super funny and the reader is pretty ditzy but it's all in good fun! hope you like it!*

TAG LIST CLOSED

You hummed to whatever tune was playing on your half-broken radio. Most of the lyrics came out as muffled voices, but you wouldn’t have it any other way. Because like the radio, your car was almost dead. 

Key word being almost. 

You had bought the car at the beginning of your high school career and refused to give it up. But, your father had finally convinced you to buy a new one. However, buying a new car was expensive, hence why you were driving around town at 7 p.m. on a Friday night trying to find someone who needed an Uber. 

Your family had mentioned how dangerous it was to drive for the “taxi” company, but no one else was hiring at this time. 

“It’s an easy way to make bank,” you had told your very confused parents. 

Your hand came up and smacked the top of the dash, causing the radio to spam for a moment before finally, clear voices played out. However, your eyebrows furrowed once you could actually listen to the song. 

“This is not my playlist,” you muttered while trying to get your Bluetooth to come back on. Once your fingers reached the dials, your phone lit up with an Uber notification. 

“Finally.”

You quickly put in the address and drove down the street. Your humming resumed, playlist reaching out through the speaker. You hadn’t even glanced at where the location was, or you would have realized that you were going in the wrong direction. 

When you were supposed to be going further into the town, you were headed for the city. The only place your parents refused to let you drive. 

It might have to do with the local mafia war that was going on. Something about track limits or whatnot. However, that was not going to stop you from getting paid that night. 

You finally came to a stop at the corner of what you thought to be Fifth and Main, like your phone said to stop at. The actual corner was Fourth and Main, but you couldn’t tell because half of the word “fourth” was smudged with some type of brown substance. 

Your shoulders raised in a shrug while your gaze landed back on your phone. At least you were supposed to be picking up a nice older looking lady. That’s what your Uber app said anyway. You leaned forward in the driver’s seat, making the entire car squeak. Before you knew it, your fingers had started to tap along to the song that was still playing. 

The sound of the door opening and slamming shut caught your attention. 

“Drive!” you heard from behind you. 

Your entire body turned in the seat as you looked to the back row of your car. 

That was not a nice looking old lady. 

The man that now resided on the back road had a mean glare as his eyebrows cocked. Sea blue eyes met your own as the man leaned forward and pointed out the window. 

“I said drive, let’s go!” the accented voice yelled.  

If you had taken a moment to actually look at the man, you would have noticed his roughed up suit, along with the bright red splatters along his white dress shirt. And on his belt line, a gun seemed to be tucked. 

But you hadn’t noticed. 

“Yes sir!” you cheerfully said, putting the car into drive. A loud boom sounded outside the car, but your radio had decided to turn up full blast, masking the sound. Your car squeaked as it started to move away from the corner and farther along the road. 

The man in the back seat seemed agitated, but slowly relaxed the farther away you got on the highway. He had leaned back against the window and rubbed his eyes. You wanted to keep glancing back at him, but you needed to drive. When you noticed that the Uber app had not updated with his next location, you gathered the courage to speak. However, he beat you to it. 

“Is this your first time?” 

You sheepishly grinned back at him. “Yes, sir. Sorry, is it that noticeable?” 

A grunt escaped his lips. 

“The damn Get Away Car sticker on the back is not very inconspicuous. You need to get rid of it.” 

“Oh! So you don’t like Taylor Swift that much?” 

The man glared at you through the rearview mirror, before he shut his eyes. His hand waved at you through the gap between the front seats. 

“Just don’t miss the exit.” 

“Sir, you’ll need to put in your location first.” 

His eyes shot open. “I guess this is your first day. How did you ever get through training?” 

You glanced back. “Training? It was all online?” 

A huff only answered as he reached for what you hoped was a phone in his pocket. 

“I’ll have to let Lando know that online training will not work.” 

You let out a nervous giggle, noting that there was no “Lando” in the Uber training video. But, once again, the money promised kept you going down the highway. You kept glancing at your phone, hoping that the guy would just put his address in. Now you were getting annoyed.

“Sir, I really need the address or I’ll have to make you get out.” 

A click near your ear made you freeze. 

“Who do you think you are? Giving orders to de Leeuw.” 

You had definitely picked up the wrong person. You wanted to start explaining yourself, but the gun near your head made the words die out in your throat. You could feel his breath on your ear as he spoke. This would be hot, if you weren’t scared to lose your life. 

“Now, you’re going to tell me who you are and why you don’t know where the right exit is. Are you working for Hamilton? Vettel? Alonso?” 

You were so caught up in not wanting to die that you missed the car in front of you slamming on your breaks. You were thankful for your fast reflexes as your foot pressed down on the left pedal, making your car lurch to a halt. A thump on the back of your seat had you reeling around to see what had happened to the blond man. 

You were surprised to see him now sprawled on the back seats, eyes closed and gun now on the floor. Your hands were shaking as you were now able to take a random exit. When you got to a random parking lot, your head hit the steering wheel. 

“I have de Leeuw in my back seat.” 

Your breathing started to grow ragged. 

“I have  de Leeuw in my back seat!” 

You were now panicking. 

“I HAVE AN FUCKING UNCONSCIOUS MAFIA BOSS IN MY BACK SEAT!” 

Charles’s eyebrows furrowed as he watched Max’s tracker come to a stop in a parking lot. The Dutchman was supposed to come back right away after a swift deal with Gasly on the other side of town. But, Charles’s heart had dropped when the car, that Max was supposedly in, turned at an exit too soon. He took off his headset and rolled his chair over a bit. 

“Lando, who was picking Max up today after the deal? Was it Carlos?” 

The curly-haired Briton spun in his seat to look at his fellow mafia worker. 

“Uh, Carlos called in sick. I thought it was Oscar’s turn?” 

Something felt weird in Charles’s stomach. 

“No, Oscar is on that mission? Daniel was then after Oscar.” 

Lando’s eyes widened with fear. “Daniel is out of the country.” 

The Monegasque turned back to his computer screen. All vitals for Max were still good, but he had yet to leave the location. His finger pointed and pressed against the screen. 

“Then . . . who has Max?” 

Back in the parking lot, you had gotten out of the car and were currently rocking back and forth in the fetal position. 

“This is not happening. Why did this happen to me? I only needed some money. Why did I get stuck with a mafia boss. I want to live. I need to get back home to my plant and cat.” 

Last time you checked, de Leeuw was still out cold. You had taken the gun just in case he woke up in a panic and started to shoot at stuff. That would not end well for you. You grabbed your phone and pushed a button. 

“Yes? Hi? Hello, I am calling about what to do if I picked up the wrong passenger. Uh-huh. Yes. I didn’t have his address. Well, no. He’s unconscious. I can’t call the police, he probably owns them. What? Ok. No? The hospital is under the law as well? Yep. I can’t just take him back! No, wait. Don’t hang up. Uhg.” 

So much for customer service. 

You stuffed your phone back into your pocket. Your feet took you over to your car, and you opened the back seat. The blond man was still looked like he was asleep. Your face got closer to his. 

Hm. Up close he was quite handsome. The freckle on his lip really added bonus points. You were so engrossed with the small dot that you missed the twitch of his eyes under his eyelids. When you looked back up, your eyes met blue, which made you shriek and fall back on your butt. 

Max was a bit out of it when he was trying to wake up. What he wasn’t expecting was a face to be so close to his when his eyes finally opened. He would laugh if he had the strength as he watched you fall onto the concrete. His hand immediately went to his belt, but his heart dropped when he didn’t feel his gun. 

“Looking for this?” you asked, gun outstretched at the man in your back seat. Max’s eyes widened at the gun pointed to his head. It took all of his strength to put his hands up. 

“You don’t want to do this,” is the first calm thing that the man said to you. You, however, kept the gun pointed directly at him. 

“You’re right, I don’t. But I can’t have you freak out on me and shoot my face. Who would take care of my cat back home? My cousin Lan could, but he kills everything.” 

Max registered the slight hitch in your voice. While his hands were still up, he took a moment to look around the parking lot. In the depths of his mind, he was hoping that Lando or at least Charles were on their way to come get him. Yet, his heart rate rose as he saw a few familiar things surrounding him. 

He turned back to you. “Ok, you need to listen to me. We are in Rosberg territory right now. And he’s not going to like us on his property. So, you need to give me the gun and get back into the car.” 

Your eyes flickered around, and caught some movement to the left and then to the right. You slowly inched the gun down as you walked closer. When you were right in front of the Dutchman, you quickly handed him the gun as you rounded the car to the drivers seat. 

Max quickly reloaded the unloaded gun with a smirk on his face. You couldn’t have shot him if you tried. It took a bit for him to do it, but when the magazine fit back in the gun, he was wondering why you hadn’t taken off yet. 

“We have to go, now,” he said sternly. 

You turned around. “But I need to find a good get-away-song.” 

Max could count the pout on your lips as adorable, if it weren’t for the fact that Rosberg’s men were quickly making their way to the car. 

“You’re going to have to pick a good funeral song if you don’t hit the gas pedal.” 

“Aha!” 

The music blared out of the broken speaker as you finally put the car into drive. You heard metal hit metal and prayed that you still could trade your car out for another (even with a few bullet holes). 

Max had pressed himself up against the back seat, gun cocked and ready. 

“You better not shoot out my back window. I have to trade this car for a new one.” 

Max muttered, “You won’t trade anything if you’re dead.” 

“I heard that!” 

The mafia boss ignored you as he kept watch. When a few cars started to gain, that’s when he leaned back and aimed the gun, firing shots through your back windshield, shattering the glass. 

“Do you listen to anyone? Or is my voice just static in your brain?” you asked as you swerved onto the highway. When Max didn’t answer, you huffed. You steadily drove your car down the big roads as Max tried his best to keep the cars at bay. 

“How far am I driving?” 

Max grunted as he ducked from a bullet. “Just until exit 7. That’s my track.” 

You wanted to hit your head on the steering wheel once again. “You’re telling me that if I just kept driving, I wouldn’t be in this situation?” 

When he didn’t answer, you swerved a bit to knock him off balance. Your chuckles hit Max’s ear, pissing him off even more. 

“And to think, I was going to replace this utter junk if you made it out alive.” 

“We’re not done yet mister.” 

There was still a bit of road to go, and you were hoping that Max would try to shoot out one of their tyres, instead of trying to shoot at their drivers. He was about reload when he heard a clicking sound. Max really wanted to through himself out the door. 

“Is your blinker seriously on right now?” 

Your fully turned around to glare. 

“Yes.” 

You jerked the wheel as you got onto exit 7, making the cars behind slowly back away and continue on the highway. You wiggled in your seat as you did a little celebration. When some familiar houses came into sight, you gasped. 

“My cousin lives around here!” 

Max was out of breath as he was flabbergasted by your upbeat spirit. “Cousin?” 

“Yeah! He has this like high tech job and stuff. I come over to swim in the summer.” 

He had no words as you pulled up to a familiar house. You scrambled out the door and fell face flat on the asphalt. 

“Sweet mother, thank you, thank you.” 

You could kiss the ground, but that would be super unsanitary. When the garage creaked, you quickly got up and scrambled behind Max, who raised his gun out of instinct. However, he wanted to laugh when he saw his two best friends in full oversized gear. 

The two friends froze at the sight of their boss and, well, Lando’s cousin. 

“Y/n?” the Briton questioned, pulling the visor on the oversized helmet up. 

Your sprung in your place. 

“Lando!” 

“Max?” 

“Charles?”

Lando squinted at you. 

“Y/n?” 

A nervous giggle escaped your lips. 

“Lando?” 

The curly-haired man rushed at you, making you dodge around Max. Which, that resulted in Lando chasing you around the yard. 

“You kidnapped my friend?” 

“Why are you friends with de Leeuw and apparently Il Predestinato? I’m telling Aunt Cisca!”

“Not if I tell your mum that you Ubered in the city!” 

Max and Charles watched as the two of you ran after each other, hurling insults and threats. The two jumped when they heard a loud creak behind them and then a crash. When they looked, your car was down to the ground, wheels askew. 

“My car! De Leeuw, you’re paying for that!”  

uber_y/n has posted

uber_y/n new baby from my new baby 🖤

liked by bestie, land0, max_v, and 204 others

bestie um excuse me ma'am 🤨 what happened to bessie? 😭

uber_y/n someone (not saying any names [max] ) SHATTERED HER BACK WINDOW

max_v I hope you like bessie 2.0 schatje

uber_y/n I dooooooo(not)

max_v woman 🙄

land0 you just had to go for my cousin 😐😑😐

uber_y/n he was very charismatic, unlike you noRIZZ 🫵💀

sharl_lec pls, for the love of everything good in this world, quit uber

uber_y/n NOPE on my way to pick up someone named...lewis?

max_v oh no

TAG LIST: @fionaschicken @myxticmoon @cherry-piee @blueberry64857959 @glitterquadricorn @lizzypiastri @sam-is-lost @spilled-coffee-cup @ilove-tswizzle @the-untamed-soul @allenajade-ite @starssfall @torchbearerkyle @judespoision @halfdeadsage @juniper-july19 @severewobblerlightdragon @thatgirlmj @gods-menace @ineedafictionalman @namgification @dark-night-sky-99 @samantha-chicago @2pagenumb @treehouse-mouse @fangirl125reader @megatrilss1885 @kagatinkita @itsjustkhaos @nikfigueiredo @awekbachira @vellicora @skepvids @sunrizef1 @stan-josie @fanficweasley @hiireadstuff @barcelonaloverf1life @c-losur3 @graciewrote @bruhhhhhhhhehhhhhhh @tallrock35 @ashy-kit @kat-s2 @minkyungseokie @lozzamez3 @leslieis-crying @adventuresofrose @lighttsoutlewis

[ham1lton]

girl if you write lando x assistant!yn, i think i'll ascend. oscaryn was already so good, but lando? would love that sm 🤭 have a great day queen!! 💖

author’s note: i’ve honestly been meaning to write this for so long! so here is some landoyn that doesn’t have lando being a loser. this is a part of my dream girl series <3

liked by oscarpiastri, roscoelovescoco and 1,727,832 others.

yourusername: is this what the kiddos call a photo dump?

view all 50,728 comments

user1: ain’t this lando’s gf??? no way he bagged a baddie 😭

-> user2: he’s paying her atp 😭

landonorris: just died btw

-> landonorris: but your beauty brought me back to life 😍

-> yourusername: ur so lame

-> yourusername: i want u 😍

user10: hottest wag on the grid

hater1: yn dating one driver and working for another. what a slut.

-> user11: and she’s way more relevant and sexy than you’ll ever be!!! stay mad bitch !!!! 😹

user9: the sky is blue, grass is green and no matter when yn posts, within five minutes lando has liked, reposted and commented seven times.

*liked by yourusername.*

user3: i need you omg. the first pic???

-> user4: SHE GET MONEY… HER BODY TEA…

lilymhe: my girlfriend is so gorgeous 👩🏻‍❤️‍💋‍👩🏾

-> yourusername: no my girlfriend is MORE gorgeous 👩🏾‍❤️‍💋‍👩🏻

-> landonorris: do you see this shit?? alex_albon

-> alex_albon: you just gotta let it happen mate

user7: yn will you marry me???

-> landonorris: NO 🤩

landonorris: do you have a boyfriend?

-> yourusername: yes i do :D

-> landonorris: can he fight 😡

-> yourusername: no x

-> landonorris: babeeee 😒😔

lewishamilton: did you know that lando spamming your comments is a form of harassment? i’ll cover any legal fees necessary for you. 🌱

-> maxverstappen1: i’ll pay half.

-> oscarpiastri: let me know if you need anything else yourusername 👍🏻

-> landonorris: jealousy is a disease of the heart. get well soon xoxo

roscoelovescoco: where’s my’s picture’s? 😢

-> yourusername: I CANT BELIEVE I UPSET YOU IM SO SORRY MY BABY 🥺🥺🥺🥺🥺🥺 I LOVE YOU.

-> yourusername: RUNNING OVER WITH TREATS RN!!!

landonorris: where is my pic creds for the last picture. want everyone to know you’re taken.

-> yourusername: sorry baby 💕💕

-> landonorris: ITS TOTALLY COOL TOTALLY OKAY I LOVE YOU MY ANGEL COOKIE FACE HONEY ❤️😘

landonorris: need you so bad 😍

landonorris: can i get ur number 😍

landonorris: can i slide in those dms queen 😍

-> user8: BRO U ALREADY BAGGED HER 😭

landonorris: thats MY girlfriend by the way stay mad everyone xxx

alexandrasaintmleux: double date soon? 🥰

-> yourusername: yes 😍 me and you can go out and we’ll leave lando and charles at home.

-> charles_leclerc: but then who’ll pay?

-> yourusername: good point… leave your credit cards with us and we’ll bring you back the leftovers x

-> landonorris: my gf is so generous 😘🥰

*liked by yourusername.*

landonorris: bae when are you coming home. our five kids are waiting for you xxx

-> user5: FIVE KIDS??? GET OFF HER 😭😭

-> yourusername: IM NOT A MUM YET PLEASE 😭

-> yourusername: he’s talking about my cats <3

-> landonorris: i want your cat

-> yourusername: OI BEHAVE 🙄 my boss can see this.

-> lewishamilton: unfortunately that is true, yourusername. thankfully jude is still single, for when you realise you’ve made a mistake 💕🌱

-> user6: HELP 😭😭😭😭😭

— taglist: @flowergirl1134 @laur20a23 @greantii @rafebun (wanna join the taglist? fill out this form here!)

[starkeyisthelastname]

(Here you are my gorgeous babes! 😘💕) Because Dealer!Rafe has enough money and then some more.💰😻💖

You knew Rafe sold drugs, the first interaction of you two was because you needed weed and your friend knew of him. You just didn’t know the depth of it and nor did Rafe want you too. He would always tell you that you were too damn pretty to worry about it, never needing to really reveal how dangerous of a man he was.

Banks runs were a fun day, riding in the passenger seat of his blacked out Range Rover like the princess you were. Fresh mani-pedi, lash extensions thick, pretty Louis bag sitting next to your hip. He would have one ringed hand on the steering wheel, other hand holding his phone as he talked to Barry about something you didn’t understand or would even question. You already had tried that before, and was reassured Rafe could defend himself.

“Stay here, pretty girl.” He would tell you, phone still pressed to his ear as he began to open the drivers side door. You turned your head as you applied the Dior lipgloss in the mirror, looking at him with a glossy pout.

“Can I go in this time?” You asked, long lashes fluttering at him.

Rafe shook his head, gripping your jaw firmly to make you look up at him. “Quit fuckin pouting, you’re too goddamn gorgeous for that shit.” He said, voice low. “Let daddy handle his business and maybe you’ll get something.”

You nodded, eyes looking up at him like the perfect little doll you were. He loved every second of spoiling you with the massive amounts of trap money he made. He pulled you in for a sloppy kiss before pulling back with a smirk on his lips. He never had committed to any girl or ever wanted to, but something about you was different and he would give you whatever the fuck your precious heart desired.

You waited as patiently as you could, eyes glancing up at the door ever so often until you saw your tall boyfriend walking out of the bank, a couple blue bags in hand. He was so effortlessly sexy wearing his white tee, a gold chain resting against his collarbone, and fresh buzzcut bringing how his handsome face. He got into the drivers seat, setting two out of the three blue bags in the center console next to a shiny gun. He closed it, before handing you the one bag he left out.

Unzipping it, you looked into the bag to see bundle of cash wrapped in rubber bands and colorful tabs. He chuckled as you looked up at him, eyes a little wide at the amount.

“Go fucking crazy mama, daddy’s got plenty more to go around.” Rafe laughed, looking over his shoulder as he backed out of the parking space. He was a fucking boss and his money and girl were the only two priorities he was worried about. “You are a pretty princess aren’t ya? Pretty princesses deserve expensive shit.” He said, hand coming over to possessively grab your thigh.

[of-many-fandomss]

Three times Charles or Max pined for you and the one time they finally did something about it?

Puppy

Pairing: Charles Leclerc x reader

Warnings: slight cursing

A/N: please don’t judge this, it’s been a hot minute since I’ve written anything

Word count: 1.4k

･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ.

“Charles? Mr. Leclerc?”

It wasn’t the voice that roused the driver from being trapped in a loop of thoughts within his own mind, it was the gentle but firm nudge against his arm.

His head snapped to the side, his eyebrows up and eyes slightly wide, “Huh?” He breathed out in confusion.

Carlos smirked a bit at his frazzled teammate, “They’re talking to you.”

Charles’s gaze finally floated to the ground below the stage he was sitting upon, where people were sitting in a line, looking up at him expectantly.

He shook his head slightly, lifting his microphone off of his lap and lifting it to his lips, “Sorry, what was that?”

The man that had been asking the question for the press conference looked slightly annoyed, but repeated his question anyway.

Leclerc gave a short answer before his gaze drifted back to the place it had previously been resting, to the person standing in the very back in the crowd, somehow in the middle of a light that made it very easy for his eyes to lock onto.

You, however, were not returning his gaze. Your head was down as you furiously typed away at your tablet, eyebrows furrowed slightly in concentration and as oblivious to the piece of hair that had fallen in front of your face as you were of the formula one driver's stare.

“You’re staring again, mate.” Carlos’s voice floated into his ear in a low murmur as he directed his microphone away from him so as to not pick up on their quiet conversation as the crowd continued without paying them any mind.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.” It was a pathetic lie, and they both knew it. Especially since he couldn’t bring himself to tear his eyes off of you long enough to even look at Sainz.

A chuckle escaped the man’s lips and he snickered, “Like a little lost puppy,” He mused.

That was able to finally bring Charles’s eyes away from you and to his teammate, blue orbs narrowing slightly, “Shut it,” Annoyance sat in his tone, though he didn’t bother even trying to deny anything.

Without even looking at you, it was as if the man could sense your movement and turned back to you just in time for you to look up from your device, your eyes locking with his.

“Smile,” You mouthed, knowing very well as his pr that any bad media pictures would not be fun to clean up in the morning.

He did so without hesitation, allowing his face to soften so he didn’t look as stoic as he had when he was addressing Carlos.

You smiled at him in gratitude before returning your gaze to the work you had been previously doing.

“Puppy dog,” This time, when Carlos whispered in a sing-song voice, Charles only allowed his smile to widen.

･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ.

“Here,” Charles’s voice was a soft murmur as he all but materialized beside you.

You glanced to his face then to the flute of champagne in his outstretched hand and took it eagerly, imminently taking a generous sip, “Was it that obvious that I needed it?”

He smiled softly, eyes trained on you as you scanned the crowded room of the charity event that the company had all of the current formula one drivers at currently, “I could sense it.”

It wasn’t any secret that this was one of the most important- and therefore stressful- nights of the season so far for you. Not only were you responsible for making sure that Leclerc looked good in the eyes of the public, but your bosses had enlisted in your help with doing the same for all of the other nineteen drivers.

Apparently you had done such an excellent job with Charles that they wanted to place you in charge of this night. You were never one to turn down new opportunities, no matter how much stress you knew it would bring.

Charles, bless him, had remained by your side for almost the entirety of the night so far, remaining like an anchor to your sanity.

From replacing Lando’s drinks with water to having to pull Daniel away from jumping onto a table, the man had helped you with every task without question nor complaint.

“You’ve been such a big help tonight,” You met the drivers gaze, your eyes wide and full of complete gratitude, “Thank you so much for all of this.”

He waved you off, “I don’t mind,” He told you honestly.

A sigh left your lips, “But you should be enjoying yourself-“

“I am.” Charles insisted earnestly, “This is fun.”

You laughed, “Fun?”

“Fun.” He echoed, subconsciously, moving a strand of hair that had fallen into your face without even thinking about it.

Your smile softened as you looked up at him, something flickering in his eyes so fast that you almost missed it. What it was, you didn’t know.

“Thank you,” You spoke again, your voice soft and full of emotion.

Charles just smiled, never once tearing his eyes away from your face.

･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ.

“What’s all of this?” Your lips were parted as you spun in place to look around the room, eyes wide.

“Happy birthday!” Carlos cheered excitedly, bounding across the room full of the Ferrari team until he was right in front of you, sweeping you up into his arms in a bone crushing embrace.

“You did all of this?” You gawked up at him when he finally set you down.

“I helped,” He admitted before a large, cheesy grin overtook his features and he waggled his eyebrows up and down, “You’ll never guess who set this all up, though.” His voice was light and teasing.

Your heart swelled in your chest, “Charles,”

As if summoned by the sound of his name falling softly off of your lips, he appeared from within the crowd of red and yellow, joy alight on his features.

“Happy birthday,” He whispered softly as he came to stand by your side, ignoring the smirk Carlos sent him as he slipped away, giving you two some privacy.

The beam that he was met with was as bright as the sun, “Thank you, for all of this. Seriously.”

“There’s no need to thank me.” He smiled, “You do so much for me, this is the least I can do.”

Without thinking much of it, you pushed yourself onto your toes and left a lingering kiss on the man’s cheek, not even noticing his face go red nor his eyes go wide.

“Well, thank you anyway.” You spoke softly when you lowered yourself back to the ground.

“Who wants cake?” Landos voice boomed through the small room, interrupting Charles right as he opened his mouth to say something.

You joined everyone else in your cheers of response, excitedly taking Leclerc's hand in yours and pulling him towards the dessert table.

･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ.

“I’m so proud of you,” You lolled your head to the side as you spoke, voice full of nothing but complete confidence and honesty.

Charles shook his head softly from the cushions beside you, “I didn’t get pole position.” Defeat crept into his tone.

“No,” You admitted, “But you got p2. Which is pretty damn close.”

“I-“ He opens his mouth to argue more.

You cut him off by firmly grabbing his hand in your own, angling your body to face him, “None of that.” You spoke strictly, catching onto his gaze being locked in your intertwined hands, “You raced amazing and did the absolute best you could.” You squeezed his hand, “I’m proud of you.”

His eyes flickered up to yours, staring into them for a moment as the briefest look of hesitation overcame his features.

Before you could even begin to question it, however, the man seemed to take a quick breath to muster confidence, before leaning in and connecting his lips with yours.

Your eyes widened briefly- for no more than a split second- and just as he went to pull away, you dove forward, capturing his lips in yours once more.

Before the kiss could deepen too much, you both pulled away slightly to catch your breaths, “I’ve been waiting a very long time to do that.” Charles admitted breathlessly.

You grinned up at him in response, “I’m glad you finally did it.”

[disneyprincemuke]

ღ this barbie’s teammate is a schumacher

notes: hello gays it is i, finally writing for barbie

she closes the car door and sighs with a small smile, looking at the building ahead of her. this will be her life until she decides otherwise. she shoves her car keys into her purse and watches curiously as another supercar pulls into the empty lot next to her.

is that who she thinks it is?

she takes a step towards her car, watching the car be parked into the slot flawlessly. she tilts her head when it comes to a stop, the driver's side opening to reveal its driver.

"oh!" she shrieks, running around the front of her car to approach the young man. "mick schumacher, right? i am such a big fan! i'm so excited to finally be working with you!"

the german takes a step back, overwhelmed by the sudden presence of the girl in pink approaching him. she has a pair of sunglasses resting on the top of her head, a fur coat on and a purse hanging off her elbow.

"oh, hi," mick smiles politely. he's not a mean person; he's just a little more introverted than the next guy. "i'm glad to be with honda this year. i'm looking forward to spending the year with you."

he was in deep thought before she came up to him. he wondered, as the way he's been doing for years, if the rumours that he'd been scouted for the second seat at the request of his boss's daughter. but who is he to complain; he's racing in f1 again. does it matter how he got back into it?

surely not.

but this girl that stands in front of him – could she be an intern? she looks fairly young, very enthusiastic, and a glimmer of hope in her eyes that he doesn't see from individuals his age often. perhaps a marketing intern.

"alright, well, i'll see you inside! i love the sweater, by the way!" she shrieks, waving at him with a wide smile. she waves at him as she walks away, cautiously crossing the parking lot as the rest of the cars for the day start to roll in. "and the car! you have to give me a tour someday!"

he waves back at her in confusion, only able to mutter a 'goodbye' to himself as she disappears into the big front doors of the building. he locks his car and follows her in the direction she left, ready to start his new year with a new team.

he spends the next 10 minutes navigating the new factory he'll be frequenting from now on. introducing himself to people, familiarising himself with the engineers he'll be working closely with, and other members of the team. it's a surprisingly bigger team than he had initially thought, so it takes him longer than he expected.

about 20 minutes introducing himself and trying to pin names with the new faces. then he ends up in a quiet office, shaking his leg in anticipation as he awaits his first face-to-face meeting with his new teammate and his boss.

he hears clicks of heels right by the door, prompting him to sit up a little straighter as he glances behind him quickly. he straightens his sweater, pulls his sleeves down and wipes his sweaty palms on his jeans. he can't screw himself over.

"i'm telling you, daddy, he's got the coolest car! i saw him in the parking lot earlier!" the door opens, revealing two figures with two familiar faces. which, shouldn't be the case, because this is the first time he's meeting his teammate.

"do you want one, honey?"

"no, that's so silly! i love my car!" she giggles, before abruptly stopping at the sight of his wide blue eyes staring at her in disbelief. "my car is perfectly fine! right, mick?"

mick blinks, swallowing the forming lump of guilt in his throat. he had no idea that the girl in the parking lot was going to be his teammate eventually.

oh god, and for him to assume that she's a marketing or pr intern? how humiliating. how would he feel if someone were to think that of his sister was a mere backend worker when she is something more?

"yes," he answers by default, not really remembering what she was asking him. he immediately pushes himself up to his feet and extends a hand to her first. "i'm sorry. i don't believe i got your name in the parking lot – i didn't know you were going to be my teammate. i'm so sorry."

"oh, don't worry about it. it happens a lot." she introduces herself before quickly walking away, running over to the empty seat next to him.

mick huffs, grinning at her father before he takes a seat. but the entire time, all he can think of is how embarrassed he is for misjudging her. "you don't care that i didn't take you for a driver at first?"

she looks off blankly, pressing her lips together before shaking her head. she turns to him again. "it's not like i told you," she grins. "anyway, do you like japanese curry? that's my favourite – i'll make you some when we meet again for pre-season."

taglist: @cashtons-wife @darleneslane @namgification @happy-nico @nikfigueiredo @localwhoore @angsthology @renarots @elliegrey2803 @cha-hot @cosmoscoffeee @fanficweasley @sugarhoneylemons @aquangxl @omgsuperstarg @strawberryubin @lovecarsgoingvroom @mangotaitai @cherry-piee @ladyladybuggg @lethalvenus @gentlyweeps-world @spilled-coffee-cup @charizznorizz @wcnorris @storminacloud @minkyungseokie @viennakarma @leilanixx @daniellef89x @fezlvr @lavisenri @xcharlottemikaelsonx @ultraviolencesam @selsbackyard @ilove-tswizzle @riddle-me-im-sirius @kindestofkings

[mv1simp]

I love it you last smut with max!!! I would love some more about sucking him off and he film you while he praises you.

Thank you so much💖💖💖💖💖💖

I gotchu anon here u go 🫶🫶

Popular ♥️

Max Verstappen x Enemy Reporter!Reader

money on top of me, money on top of her, yeah, shawty fuck with me ‘cause she know I’m popular

As Sky Sport’s latest F1 reporter, you’re determined to do whatever it takes to stand out amongst the crowd. You’re notorious for your ability to make Mad Max break out of his media trained facade, all your interviews with him going viral. But after his 10th PR debriefing over you, Max has had enough. Next time, it was your turn to be in front of the camera.

Content includes: 18+ MDNI, smut, filming, enemies to lovers , blowjobs, size kink, dom! Max and brat!reader 😼, 4k WC

And there you have it folks, another disappointing 2nd place for Redbull’s golden boy for the 3rd race in a row here in Spa, you say into the microphone with a smirk. Let’s go directly to him now, shall we?

Walking over to the post race media room, you make your way to the primary interviewer position, right on the front row, ignoring the jealous stares from other reporters scattered in the rows behind you. You’re chatting to your cameraman, instructing him to make sure he gets your good side, please, I don’t want to be on Channel 3 looking like a rat compared to these model drivers again when the podium winners walk in. Max Verstappen’s ice blue eyes immediately narrow as they lock onto yours, and he has to resist the scowl that threatens to appear on his face. He fucking hated your boss for always sending you - his most aggravating reporter - to make any bad race Max has even worse.

To the left of him, Charles and Lewis shared an amused glance as they watch their fellow pilot shoot daggers at you, who in turn greeted him with a predatory smile that would put a great white shark to shame. You decide to toy with your food a bit, turning your gaze to the other drivers, welcoming them sweetly and asking how they found the race. The many cameras on Max’s face didn’t fail to pick up how the so called flying Dutchman continued to stare at you brazenly as he contemplated your tumultuous history.

It wasn’t that you were a bad reporter. If anything, Max thought you had a knack for matching your questions to the athlete that you interviewed, and spoke in a charismatic and engaging way that had most of the grid happily stop on a race weekend to chat with you. You always made an effort to get genuine stories from the drivers, compared to many other news outlets, and it had been noticed amongst the grid, who preferred you as one of the reporters they engaged with - making you quickly skyrocket in popularity with viewers and establish yourself as a front row media figure. And it certainly helped that you were easy on the eyes, quickly become a familiar sight in well picked classy but flattering outfits to suit the Grand Prix locations.

Max could still remember the first time he saw you - dressed in a long sleeved, full length crimson dress that flattered your shorter figure, with long, dark curls framing your face and full lips as you laughed at something your colleague had said. He’d noticed you immediately in the media room, a pretty figure amongst the usual crowd, even going so far as to ask his PR manager who you were. But for all your charming media skills or cute outfits, you had made an enemy very quickly out of Max Verstappen the moment you opened your glossed lips and asked him how he felt after crashing into Hamilton’s car, yet going onto celebrate 1st on the podium while Lewis had to be taken to hospital.

It was almost a complete personality switch. While the other drivers got your thoughtful questions, Max was repeatedly hit with the most provoking shit from you. It was like you knew exactly what to say to turn him into that seething, infamous Mad Max, brows furrowed and a scowl on his face as he scoffed out replies to your invading questions. To your credit, you were able to elicit a lot more information and honesty from Max than other reports could, despite his angry tone. And while others backed down immediately when the reigning world champion started to get agitated, you would just lock in with a deceivingly innocent smile and escalate your questions.

Social media absolutely loved it, making endless videos of you interviewing Max go viral, countless memes emerging every post race debrief when you would ask some ridiculous question and Max would respond with something equally ridiculous, often resulting in back and forth bickering. It had gotten to the point where Max had had over ten - ten! - interventions with his own PR team who had begged him to please just ignore your provoking statements, just rise above, don’t engage -

Fuck that. Max Verstappen wasn’t a coward that backed down from a fight - but at the same time, he didn’t want to give in and give you what you wanted. He knew your type - just a clout chaser, going after him specifically as he was the fastest driver on the grid and would get you the most views. He was no stranger to being hated on and antagonised after toppling the Mercedes winning streak. His attention draws back to the present as he sees you finally turn to him, tilting your head coyly as you open those deceivingly sweet lips of yours again. That was some incredible driving out there today, Verstappen you say innocently, making Max narrow his eyes again as he didn’t buy it for a second. Incredibly dirty, some may say - judging by the 5 point penalty the stewards gave you. Why do you think you struggle to race wheel to wheel fairly?

Max felt his jaw clench at your provoking accusation. Behind him, his PR manager sighed and already started trying out a draft Instagram thirst trap that would hopefully do some damage control as Max heatedly dismissed your statements, insulting the steward’s decision in the process. This was going to be a long, long afternoon.

Max sighed, rolling out the tension in his neck as he sank down in the VIP area of the Monaco club, sculling his G&T. Beside him, Lando laughed at the sorry sight the current F1 champion had been reduced to after last weekend’s post race debrief had, as usual, gone viral due to a certain crafty reporter who had played the hotheaded Redbull driver like a fiddle. Mate, you let her wind you up too much, Lando said, smirking. It’s just classic journalist clickbait, you’ve dodged shit like that hundreds of times. Why do you keep letting her get inside your head?

Max didn’t respond, choosing to slam down his first glass and pick up a second G&T. Lando leaned in conspiratorially. Don’t tell me you secretly have the hots for her, mate. Is that why you two are always going at it? Too much sexual tension? She’s pretty fit and all, but you could easily get any hotter chick -

This time Max turns to glare at Lando, his furrowed brows clearly telling him to fuck off. Lando throws his hands up in mock defense, Just jokes, just jokes. But hey, speak of the devil and she shall appear. He says, looking behind Max and letting out a low whistle. And damn, the devil didn’t come to play tonight, that dress should be illegal. I get it the appeal now Max-

Rolling his eyes, the older blonde driver finishes his drink and stands up, telling Lando to come find it when he’s done being a prick. Striding off to the opposite end of the club, he doesn’t bother looking in your direction even once. He’d had enough of your annoying presence on the track to be able to deal with it off it.

Across the neon dance floor, you laugh cheerfully with your friends, cheersing to shots together. Tossing your shot glass back, you reach for another, hoping your friends don’t notice the disappointed flicker on your face when you had heard Lando’s laugh from the VIP section, only to look up and see Max’s wide shoulders disappear off into the crowd, no doubt leaving the club as soon as he saw you.

Honestly, you couldn’t blame him, you thought glumly. You weren’t entirely sure just how the dynamics between you too had ended up so rife with tension. You had been so excited to interview the Dutch champion for the first time, spending ages picking out your most flattering outfit and matching gold accessories, and had even picked the perfect question to let him showcase his empathy. You had a soft spot for the driver racing with the MV33 tag growing up as you related to having strict parents yourself. Seeing Max shine at such a young age against much older, experienced competition had been so cool you’d instantly become a fan. So you had asked him about his infamous crash into the reigning champion, Lewis Hamilton, hoping to give him an chance to share his side of the story about how he was forced to continue the race due to team orders - but instead found yourself at the end of a scathing reply from the older athlete.

It’s always the people who have never been behind the wheel of a race car who have the most to say, Max had replied that day, on live TV with a condescending look, I don’t tell you how to be an influencer and you shouldn’t tell me how to be a driver, okay sweetheart?

You had flushed, too embarrassed to even stutter out a reply, and as another reporter mercifully took over you excused yourself from the room. The memory of your first F1 interview still radiated crystal clear in your mind and brought you back to the present as your friends waved their hands in your face to get your attention. Oh yeah, that’s right - that’s why you hated the cocky Dutch driver, you thought darkly, tossing back another shot. And why you’d never do him the service of being a courteous reporter to him ever again.

Vowing to put all thoughts of your biggest annoyance to the back of your mind, you let yourself be dragged onto the dance floor. For the next 3 hours you drink and dance, celebrating the start of the summer break. You slipped away from the group at one point to go to the bathroom. You’re walking back down the dim hallway to the club when a hand reaches out to tap your shoulder, and you turn around to find a guy you’d seen eyeing you up earlier grinning a bit too sleazily at you, introducing himself as Rossi and asking if he can buy you a drink. Politely rejecting him, you turn back around but he grabs your arm this time, spouting some bullshit about playing hard to get, huh, dressed like that?

You scowl, immediately turned off, and forcefully twist his arm around and push him away, telling him very firmly to piss off. He look startled at your reply, and you roll your eyes at his performance before moving away but apparently this asshole just couldn’t take a hint, cause this time he grabs both your shoulders and pushing you into the wall. You’re starting to get a little panicked now, knowing you two are in a quieter hallway and the shots you had taken earlier have caught up and made you weaker -

Then he’s all but thrown off of you, crashing into the opposite wall in a display of pure strength. I’m pretty sure she told you to fuck off, cunt. Keep your hands off of her.

You’d recognize that deep Dutch accent anywhere. Your jaw drops as you look up to see Max Verstappen’s back, dressed in a fitted white tee, now standing in between you and Rossi. Peeking over his broad shoulders on your tip toes, using your small hands to grasp Max’s bicep and steady yourself on your heels, you see Rossi angrily stalk towards Max, opening his mouth - then close it as he realises he’s much shorter and this was a dumb idea. Max smirks as he watches the other man sulkily storm away. He turns around, an almost gentle look on his face as he asks you okay, schat? Are you hurt?

You stare up at him, a little dazed by how handsome Max looks in this lighting and how hot it had been seeing Max protect you. The driver’s gaze turns to your hand, where your pink manicured nails are still holding onto his large bicep. Flushing, you move your hand and stutter out an affirmation that you’re fine, don’t worry, thanks so much -

Max hmms in response, pulling back from your space and immediately making you miss his warmth. You shouldn’t wander away from your friends all alone, he says, It’s not safe. Especially for someone your size.

His steely blue eyes are raking up and down your petite form, sending butterflies swirling but you’re also annoyed at his condescending tone. I had it handled, you say defensively, crossing your arms and looking away, missing how Max’s gaze flickers to your tits which are now pushed up.

Yeah, I’m sure you had it handled, he snorts. What were you going to do, throw one of your heels at him? Seriously, you need to be able to protect yourself better if you’re going to go out looking like this.

He pointedly glances at the glittery mini dress you had on, with a sweetheart halter neckline, ending mid thigh with matching lace up strappy heels. A perfect club outfit, the gold matching your tanned skin, and brought to you by Versace.

What the fuck, Verstappen you hiss, seething as he immediately ruins the two seconds of tranquility you two had shared. Why do you always have to be so goddamn misogynistic? Blaming the woman’s choice of outfit? Seriously? You’re no better than that creep Rossi!

Your voice starts to rise as you glare up at him defiantly. Suddenly, loud voices make you both look down the corridor as some clubgoers start approaching. Not done with your argument but not wanting another PR fiasco all over Page 6 tomorrow, Max grabs your waist and pulls you into one of the staircases leading upstairs.

You end up on a private, dark balcony overlooking the quiet Monaco marina. The club’s bass vibrates through the walls against where a small sofa rests with an ashtray nearby, designating it as an intimate smoking area.

Max slams the door behind you two, locking it for good measure as you whirl back around, still keyed up. You’re comparing me to that piece of shit? Seriously? Max scoffs, rolling his eyes and resuming your argument. Let me guess, tomorrow morning you’ll conveniently have a new headline about how I hate women and I’m a misognistic pig, blah blah blah.

You glare at his dismissal, stepping closer to back him up into the door behind him. Well, aren’t you Verstappen? What do you expect me to wear, sweatpants? It’s a fucking club, everyone dresses like this! The first time I ever interviewed you, you literally thought I was some random makeup obsessed influencer when I’m an Oxford educated journalist!

I know that now! Max snaps. You just asked me about the one thing I didn’t want to talk about and I got mad. I didn’t realize you were going to bite my head off every interview after that and just use me to to blow up online!

You pause, then begrudgingly mutter that you supposed you’d dragged out the grudge a touch longer than necessary. It was the Leo in you, after all. But Max wasn’t done - Fuck, all I meant was you look good tonight and a lot of guys have been checking you out, so just watch out, okay?

Your eyes widen at the unexpected compliment, as althought you had always found him attractive, you’d never thought Max found you to be. Oh, you say, unable to hold back the blush in your face. Thank you. I owe you one, I guess.

You realize in the heat of the moment you had pushed right up against him, your soft chest up against his toned abs - giving him the perfect view as you calmed down from your heaving breaths. Max’s eyes darkened as you glanced from your chest up to his eyes, realising the compromising position as well and biting your lip.

Well, you could start by apologising to me, he says with a smirk as he pushes off the door, making you stumble back towards the sofa. That’s bullshit, Verstappen. I already said thank you. If you’re just gonna be a dick again I’m leaving, you respond automatically, but you let him continue to gently guide you back.

We both know you could have left anytime you wanted, schatje, Max breathes, bending down to your level as you come to a stop in front of the sofa, his lips grazing your ear and making your pussy throb from how goddamn sexy he sounded. Fuck, you were down bad. He grins cockily, not missing how you gasped sweetly and squeezed your plush thighs together at his words. Your gazes meet heatedly, and he finally ends the agonising tension by tilting your head up and joining your lips in a deep kiss.

You moan into it, his tongue swiping across yours skilfully and sending sparks shooting down to your pussy which was getting wetter by the second. Max pulls back, rubbing the pad of his thumb against your glossed lips. Why don’t you be a good girl for once and apologise to me nicely, yeah?

You refuse to budge. I’m not saying shit, Verstappen you say brattily. Just try and make me. Max smirks as you seal your fate. Let’s put that filthy mouth of yours to good use for once, he commands, and next thing his strong hand is pushing you down to your knees, making you come face to face with a very sizeable bulge. You gasp, looking up at him as he unbuckles himself, the clink of his belt buckle audible even over the thumping bass. His thick, veiny cock bounces out and lands across your pouting face with a smack. He grins as your eyes go wide at his size, jaw dropped as you begin to salivate at the sight. You’d definitely has one (or two) wet dreams like this - not that you would ever admit it to him.

God, you’re such a fucking slut, practically drooling for it already, huh? He teases condescendingly. You moan when he smacks your chubby cheeks with his warm length. I’m not, you whine, Stop being such a bully-mmmfhh!

He shuts up your pathetic whinging by nestling his tip against your pretty pink lips. Go on then, he mocks. You owe me one, right? Help me relax after all the stress you caused me last weekend.

You huff, still glaring at him through your dark lashes but obediently swipe a kitten lick across his leaking cockhead. Mmm, he tasted so good, you could easily see yourself become addicted. You move down his shaft, leaving teasing, gentle kisses and lipgloss marks along his length. He clenches his jaw at your deliberate teasing, telling you to quit it, but you just smirk and suckle on the very end, moving your tongue in circles to overstimulate his sensitive tip. Max moans, his hips bucking forward involuntarily but he quickly regains control and tangles a strong hand through your curls, dragging you forward to nestle in between his wide legs as he settles back comfortably on the sofa. I need to teach you some goddamn manners, huh?

You squeal from the rough treatment, your hands automatically grabbing to those thick thighs of his, opening your mouth in protest but you don’t get a chance to as he slams your plush lips down onto his length, burying himself in one go. Oh, fuck yeah, he moans, even better than I imagined, liefje. You whine and splutter, struggling to breathe at the unexpected intrusion and tap at his legs but he hold you down, blissfully enjoying your tight throat enveloping his cock. You can take it, right baby? Gonna be a good girl for me and keep my dick warm?

His condescending words should be making you angrier but instead you find yourself moaning against him, finding his dominating nature sooo hot. Tightening his hold, he now controls the pace as he jackhammers away happily, without a single care for your muffled squeals. You feel yourself melting at each thrust, looking up at him with starry glazed eyes. He smirks at the sexy sight, using his other hand to fish out his phone and hit record, blinding you temporarily with the flash.

Fucked the brat right out of ya, huh? He teases arrogantly, the camera picking up all the dirty, wet noises you’re making as you deepthroat him. Go on, time to go viral, tell everyone how much you wanted this. You look so much better in front of the camera and not behind it.

He yanks you off his length for a minute, letting you gasp and greedily suck in air as you give in completely to his demands. I do! I do want it, so bad Maxie, you whine. He tuts, slapping your lips with his thick length again and leaving streaks of pre cum all over your face. You can do better than that, sweetheart, you normally have such a way with words.

You whine at his ministrations, instinctively chasing after his tip when he withdraws it, making him chuckle at how cockdrunk he had made you. P-please Maxie, I’m sorry, so sorry for being a bitch, please let me suck you off and make it up to you, please-

Oh, he could get used to the sound of you begging and sweetly moaning his first name very, very easily. Ending your torment, he glides back through your eager lips at an angle, poking through your cheek. He zooms in to capture the filthy sight - tears that drip down your face, messily smudging your mascara and mixing with the trails of precum on your cheeks. Imagine if your boss saw this, huh? Shall I send him a dirty film? He’d lose his goddamn mind seeing his favourite reporter on her knees begging for a dirty driver’s cock.

You bob your head frantically, moaning as your eyes roll back from the intensity of it all. Your lacy panties are glued to your pussy with how wet you are. You’re taking me so well, schat, he pants, cursing, Fuck, it’s like you were made for me. If I’d known you were s’good at suckin me off I’d have you doin’ this after every race. Throwing his head back, he pushes you all the way down, your nose buried into his sweaty abs as he finishes, releasing thick ropes of cum down your eagerly awaiting throat. He holds you there as he roughly orders you to take it all for him, that’s right, just like that. He slides out of you with a wet sound. Open that gorgeous mouth for me, baby.

You obediently drop your lips wide open, tongue poking out so the camera can capture that you’ve swallowed every drop, just like he asked. Satisfied, Max tosses his phone to the side and easily lifts you up with his strong arms to straddle his lap. You immediately grind your desperate pussy against him, hands tangling in his hair as you sloppily make out. His large fingers grip your glittery minidress as he pulls back to grin down at you. Wear this outfit again, he says huskily. In fact, wear whatever you want, anytime. I can fight.

You laugh at his sweetness, heart fluttering at the thought of always having Max by your side to protect you. You know I’m never going to stop annoying you on the paddock, right? You threaten, although you’re smiling. It makes for great content. My boss would never forgive me.

Wouldn’t have it any other way, darling. We have a reputation to maintain, Max replies easily, grinning back at you as he pulls you back in. After all, you two had a lot of apologies to make up for and had found the perfect way to say sorry 💖

—————————————————————————

A/N: so I can never just write a short lil quick fic it always has to be an essay apparently?!? Anyways GLAD YOU GUYS ENJOYED THIS THEME EHEHEHE I LOVED WRITING THIS SEND IN MKRE REQUESTS!! 🫶🫶🫶

[agendabymooner]

SOMETHING LECHEROUS !!! GEORGE R. X FEM!READER X TOTO W.

summary: this was the only time when someone lucked out with toto's wife. after the austrian grand prix, maybe george should consider winning more.

content warning: smut under the cut (minors dni!), dubcon, pwp, no beta reading, austrian gp 2024 spoilers (ish), threesome (mfm), m!masturbation, cuckolding(ish), oral sex (f receiving), sub!needy!nameless wife (only referred to as 'mrs. wolff), voyeurism, praise kink

note: i have a little hangover but man did that race eat, i just had to write on it. enjoy xx

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mrs. wolff was the most sought-after woman in the paddock despite the ‘wolff’ name being attached to her soul and public image.

everyone knew who she was, having been the mercedes boss’ wife, but it didn’t deter them from ogling whenever she passed by with grace and entrancing presence. 

toto knew that. he knew all too well about the ogling, the staring, the subtle glances. and because of that, he would often shadow his wife whenever she came by.

there was an unspoken rule applied by toto: don’t talk to mrs. wolff unless you’re standing feet away from her, don’t ever touch her, don’t ever dream of being with her.

it wasn’t even that he didn’t trust his wife around other people, no. instead, he didn’t trust other people around his wife. 

george russell was one of those people. as bad as it sounded, george always found himself unintentionally ogling and staring at mrs. wolff whenever she came by in the brackley factory or in the race tracks. who wouldn’t find her beautiful? she had poise and charm that george couldn’t explain. 

hell, george couldn’t blame toto for falling for her grace. or rather, he couldn’t blame his team principal for falling for whatever the fuck she had on. 

but there was something about the austrian air that night that led george to saunter towards the woman. was it his victorious ending at the race? george wasn’t certain. 

but this was a rare occasion; mrs. wolff never joined the celebratory occasions before, and seeing her here with a nice slit dress and ever ravishing smile drove everyone insane. seeing her here while toto was on the other side of the bar, though…

george could get fired for even trying anything with her, he could admit, but ego was something that every f1 driver had and right now the briton couldn’t refuse the inflation of his. he had to try, especially when she was dressed like she wanted to get it off already.

so that’s what george did: chatted with her and talked with alcohol in their hands. there were a lot of things that george learned to say and not say. 

mrs. wolff had the nicest laugh, george could admit, but her lips looking so kissable was just another can of worms that he couldn’t open. especially when toto was somewhere to take the bait and potentially lead his wife to saunter away from the race winner. 

george couldn’t lose her now, so he opted to chat with her instead. behind his blue eyes was something forbidden. lust.

he could understand why people ogled mrs. wolff now — she was a walking aphrodisiac, like her pheromones were through the roof and george could sense all of it. they were enough for his trousers to tighten a little.

fuck, he couldn’t have that now. not when…

not when toto’s hand snaked around his wife’s waist and squeezed her hip. not when the atmosphere inside the bar turned hotter when toto came by. not when toto’s head dipped down to feed onto his and her desire and show everyone whose wife mrs. wolff was. 

george shifted in his seat, not even looking away from toto’s surprising public display of affection. toto was always professional, but then again he was off-track. 

george did the one thing that people rarely got to do: watch toto’s younger wife become needy for the team principal. it was… hot. fuck it really was hot. but he needed more.

and it seemed like toto sensed it too, his hand running through his wife’s hair before grabbing a handful to tilt her head towards george’s direction. 

george could tell she was a putty in toto’s hands, her eyes glazed in neediness and desire. toto smirked at the tension that he felt amongst the three of them, nipping on her earlobe as he asked her, “do you think you can do it, mein liebe?”

“yes,” she bit her lip, her hooded eyes trailing at george. the brit could see a lot of lust in her eyes, as if she wasn’t just laughing at some shitty joke he made five minutes ago. 

she was an entirely different person, and toto turned her on with a snap of his fingers. seeing her so aroused because of toto made george want her more and the team principal could see it.

toto chuckled softly, nipping her craned neck before telling george, “we’re heading up.”

george could only nod, frozen in his position. what did that even mean?

it seemed as though george’s confusion was all over his face because toto seemed to answer his unspoken question with, “do you want to come along? i know you want to fuck my wife like most people.” 

what?

toto smirked, “c’mon, george. lewis would’ve jumped at the chance if he could.”

george wasn’t any better either. this was something that most people wouldn’t ever expect from toto wolff. the man was possessive and wouldn’t let anyone touch his wife. 

god must have been playing favourites. but george couldn’t care less. he had the austrian grand prix win and now he got the win that most people would’ve wanted: a night spent with her. 

so that was how george found himself stomach flat against the mattress, the woman’s legs spread out while the brit’s tongue lapped at her drenched pussy. her knicker was pulled aside, reverberations in her cunt making her body squirm and her mouth water. 

she sought for her husband’s cock, but toto was busy watching them from the armchair he set by the bed. each time she pleaded for toto, all toto said were ‘patience’ or ‘behave yourself.’ 

george’s being left to pleasure her on his own while toto watched was something that made the brit’s cock twitch in his trousers. 

“god, you taste so fucking good,” george murmured between his tongue lapping. she uttered out a moan, making george grind his hips against the mattress for friction. 

“toto, please,” she mewled quietly, looking at her sitting husband while toto stroked his thick cock. “lemme taste-“

“i want to hear you whine and moan, schatzi,” toto crooned, pressing a kiss on her forehead, “i want george to hear you moan for him.” 

“mmfh-“ she whimpered, her mouth eager to taste her husband. but she couldn’t say much when she felt herself nearing the edge with george’s mouth and fingers. “fuck- george. you- oh fuck george- fuck!” 

“yeah, cum on my fingers, darling,” george tutted softly, lapping on her and sucking on her clit while his fingers curled up against her sensitive spot. “give it to me-“

“fuck- yes! oh, fuck,” her body arched and her hips grinned against george’s face, and the british man could’ve cum right there. 

george’s cock was agonizingly straining inside his trousers, precum leaking when his lips and chin glistened while she rode out her orgasm and coated his mouth and fingers. 

“oh, you sweet little thing,” george cooed at her as he moved up to capture her lips with his. his fingers never left her, only sliding out of her cunt when he unzipped his trousers. 

“taste so good, doesn’t she?” toto smirked and chuckled darkly, his eyes darkening at the sight of his wife being ravished by his driver. 

“abso-fucking-lutely,” george laughed too, finally taking off his trousers and taking the foil packet that toto tossed his way.

“she loves that,” toto hummed, his eyes never leaving his lust-ridden wife as he licked his lips. but he didn’t dare touch her, enjoying the sight of her. “my wife- ever the sweetest thing who loves getting off with my mouth and my fingers… how about you let her cum in your cock this time, hm?” 

“on all fours, doll,” george murmured, helping her into the position as he moved behind. “facing your husband, sweets.” 

she was gone. she was certainly gone when she looked at her husband, watching toto stroke the one thing that she wanted in her mouth. heat was rising in her cheeks, her body warming up to 40 degrees as george hooked her arms behind her and slid his cock in slowly. 

both her and george let out guttural moans, george’s face turning red in enjoyment as his pace turned moderate. 

she looked at toto with half-lidded eyes, biting her lip at the sight of him stroking his cock. it was all too damn good. 

“you look so fucked out, liebling,” toto said lowly. she seemed out of it, only nodding to his words. “you’re so gone, aren’t you? so fucked out?”

“yeah… yes,” she stammered hazily, “so good, toto.”

“yeah?” 

“yes,” she cried out when george angled to hit her spot repeatedly. “fuck- toto, he’s so good-“

“good girl,” george crooned from behind her, “good fucking girl with a tight cunt- god, you’re so fucking good.” 

“fuck her, george,” toto instructed with a smirk, prompting george to smirk too and follow as he was told. “look at that face of hers- she could cum right now and she could cum again and again.”

“oh fuck- yes,” she whined softly, her face scrunching in pleasure as her mouth gaped open. she was overwhelmed with pleasure, unable to keep track of who was talking. “you’re- oh god, george!” 

“you’re gonna be the death of me, schatzi,” toto commented, his stroking hand matching george’s thrusting pace. toto groaned out, “fuck her hard. she loves that, george.”

george wasn’t able to contest toto’s command, not when he was there only once. this was a rare occasion, and if it meant that he had to follow her husband’s words then fuck it. 

george might as well do the things that people were unable to do with mrs. wolff. if people only knew— he was a lucky bastard to even be able to see her like this while she lusted over toto and him. 

♡ moony’s reminder 🅶 (general): @hiraethrhapsody @avaleineandafryingpan @enhacolor @roseandtulips @woweewoowa @magnummagnussen @happy-nico @architect-2015 @hiireadstuff @biancathecool @scorpiomindfuck @stinkyjax @youdontknowmeshh @hyneyedfiz @decafmickey @lightdragonrayne @marknolee @xylinasdiary @anotherblackreader

♡   moony’s reminder 🅴 (explicit edition): @glitterf1 @savrose129 @maxillness @bigsimperika @xoscar03

[heartfullofleeches]

What if darling orders from a different restaurant and brie coincidentally arrives right when the actual delivery person does? I feel like he'd be jealous af

Yan "Pizza Boy" + Reader

-

Who is that-

Arriving at your street, tires screech to a hault as your home rolls into view. The driver takes a second look. Then a third - knuckles white as fingers clench around the steering wheel.

A car he's never seen before sits in the little parking spot outside your house. His parking spot. Some old, beat up hatchback painted the ugliest shade of blue he'd ever seen - tape covering its left tail light and bumper held on by zip ties. By now, the delivery boy has made enough visits to your home to recognize cars of your friends and loved ones. Who is this? The flickering sign atop the rusting hunk of metal lifted some of the weight from his shoulders - only to crush him with a new fear as the other driver casual steps out of his vehicle, carrying bag strapped to his shoulder.

"Oh, hell no-"

Brie curses under his breath - pulling into your neighbor's driveway with one hand on the wheel as he reaches into the passenger seat with the other. He quickly gathers his things, kicking the driver's side door open as he goes to exit - hissing in frustration as his seat belt digs into the flesh of his neck. He unbuckles himself, shutting the door behind him with the heel of his sneaker as he races across your neighbor's yard. He slows down to carefully step over their hedges right as the other delivery person reaches your porch. Brie curses again-

"Oh my God! There's someone hiding in the back of that blue car with the dirty windows!"

The delivery person runs off back to their car. With little time to celebrate his victory, Brie marches up to your front door and rings the doorbell. You looked surprised - yet oddly happy to see him. His heart flutters.

"You?"

Brie beans from ear to ear "Yup! It's me! Got another pizza for you here. Same as the last."

"Thank you, but I already ordered from someplace else. Couldn't find anywhere nearby with alfredo sauce pizza so I had to settle for the usual."

You were looking for him?.... The place he works for that is. Brie shoves the box against your chest, biting down the scream ready to escape. "Don't worry, this one's on the house too. We're still experimenting with the recipe so it isn't available on our menu yet. I'm sure my boss will be happy to hear you enjoyed it."

"Well... Since it's free I guess it wouldn't hurt to take it off your hands. Won't have to order out for a week at this rate. Do you have a number I can reach you at?"

Multiple issues could arise from giving you his personal number - Brie was too excited to dwell on future problems when he had your attention now.

"Sure! Do you have a pen and paper?"

In the time it takes you to retrieve said items the other delivery person returns. He looks at Brie, a flicker of recognition in his eyes as he inspects his face.

"Hey... Aren't you-"

"Their boyfriend attacked a guy once."

The delivery driver looks taken aback. "What did you say?"

"I had a friend who worked at this one other pizza place. He had a black eye the last time we met. Said the person with the exact address had a scary looking boyfriend who thought he was flirting with them. He moved last we and I think I know why."

Brie's smile widen as the wobble in the other man's voice. "Hey, man... It's not cool to joke like that. If you're trying to scare me off you'll have to try harder than that."

"If that's what you want-"

Brie drops the conversation there. No point in wasting any more of his precious time - not with you standing there, pen and a small notepad in hand.

"Thank you~" Brie scribbles down his number, tearing off a page of paper beneath the one he wrote on as he hands the notepad back to you - pen still in his possession. With other matters to attend to, asking for it back was the last thing on your mind as you then turn to properly greet the other driver. Brie turns on his heels and makes his way down your driveway, checking over his shoulder as he drops the pen off the sidewalk - watching it roll by the rear bumper of the car.

"Whoops- Looks l dropped my pen."

Brie crotches down to grab the pen, eyes scanning the dented license plate as his fingers graze the pen. He picks it up, jotting down the license plate on the scrap of paper as he stands and walks off in the direction of his car.

One light broken is bad enough. He wonders how that other driver's boss would feel with all four smashed.

[tojipie]

as long as trade professions exists i WILL write this man working as each and every one of them.

mechanic toji x fem reader | 2.2k words !

content: smut ! semi public (??) not sure if garage sex counts

the feeling of your shoes losing their grip nearly sends you flying as you step into the car shop lobby.

whoever was working tonight clearly had no grasp on what a wet floor sign was, opting to cover the floor in what felt like 2 feet of suds.

“oh! sorry!” suguru exclaims, extending an arm for you to hold onto. “you okay?” 

“i’m ok sugu,” you tell him, feeling your anger dissipate at the sight of the shop’s newest bright-eyed apprentice. 

you can practically hear him asking you not to tell his boss, eyes big like a kicked puppy.

the smile you shoot him is soft and reassuring. 

suguru apologizes again, grabbing a caution sign from the supply closet.

“he’s in the garage if that’s who you’re looking for.” the apprentice adds, sending you in your husband's direction with a smile.

“toji?” you yell, scanning the 8-door garage for his telltale mop of black hair. 

“on your right!” he shouts, waving an oil-stained hand in the air to flag you down. cars in varying conditions line your path as you make a beeline for your husband, following his black footprints like breadcrumbs

a 59’ impala comes into view as you weave in between the tall legs of the suspension machines. toji is crouched on the driver’s side with his back to you, fiddling with the front end of the vehicle.

“woah,” you whisper, trailing your hand over interior seats wrapped in glossy leather. 

the cherry red exterior of the classic car is blinding, waxed to perfection by none other than the man in front of you

“aht, aht—hey.” toji chides, motioning for you to get your hands off the car.

“no fingerprints,” he says firmly, tossing you a rag from his equipment cart.

you quickly wipe down the headrest of the driver's seat, restoring it to its original sheen. the residue left on your hand smells like lemons, the sterile scent of carwash soap.

“you fix this up by yourself?” you ask, watching him fasten a new headlight into place. the amount of detailing was beyond impressive.

“course i did.” your husband chuckles. “can’t even trust these other guys with an oil change.”

you laugh, recalling the shop’s newest employee and your little wet floor debacle. toji reaches for the back of your calf, rubbing your leg affectionately from his spot on the floor.

“you’re the one that hires them.” you remind him.

“yeah, gotta stop doing that,” he mumbles, snorting at the way you smack his shoulder in protest.

the impala looks fresh off the conveyor belt with the amount of restoration that had been done to it. you can’t quite recall the last time you’d seen toji put this much work into a vehicle.

“what’s the story with this one?” you ask, stepping back to let your husband stand up.

navy blue coveralls come into view as toji rises from the floor, chest peeking out from where the one-piece garment is unzipped. he’s filthy, covered in motor oil and sweat. god, he looked good.

the raven-haired mechanic steps back with a cocky smile, zipping the garment down to just above his waist.

“what, like what you see?” he asks, slipping toned arms out of his uniform and tying the excess around his waist.

your mouth goes dry, eagerly taking in the way his body ripples under his black tank top.

“nah, nothing i haven’t seen before.” you tease, taking the spray bottle and cloth he holds out for you.

“right, okay.” your husband laughs, ego clearly knocked down a peg.

you’re wiping down the front windshield when he speaks again, answering your question from earlier.

“one of our regulars dropped her off a week ago, needed some help with parts,” he explains. the “her” in question being the obscenely glossy car in between the two of you.

“how’d the inside look?” you ask, strolling over to the sink. the smell of leather polish and windex gradually fades with a bit of scrubbing.

your husband scoffs, recalling the abhorrent state of the under-hood.

“fuck.. awful.” he explains, handing you a roll of paper towels. “some people don’t deserve cars like these.” he laughs, rubbing your back as you join him at the hood.

your husband fiddles with the tool cart, wheeling it closer to begin working on the tires.

“you look good tonight.” toji mumbles, leaning down to accept a kiss from you. you tug on the neck of his wifebeater just as he begins to pull away, roping him into a deeper kiss this time. 

“careful.” scarred lips mumble. you feel his hand trail down your back, slipping under the waistband of your jeans and leaving just as fast.

“stop being a tease,” you tell him. 

“s’ one hour till quitting time.” he says, grabbing a wrench from the cart. “can you make it, pretty girl? or do you need it right now?”

“i can wait.” you lie, not wanting to distract him from the job.

he nods, clearly not believing you. 

“you remember how to get these bolts off?” he asks, handing you the wrench with a sly grin. his hulking form settles behind you as you crouch down in front of the tire he’d picked.

vintage cars like these needed a lot more manual work, not being able to withstand the force of any automated tools. 

you unscrew the bolt with ease, fidgeting at the feeling of two warm hands rubbing up and down your waist.

“mhm, just like i taught you.” toji says, nosing at the curve of your neck.

you twist another one free, groaning at the feeling of scarred lips suctioning onto your neck.

“can’t focus.” you whimper, trying to wiggle free of your husband’s embrace. 

“s’ not your job to focus.” he chuckles, biting the meat of your shoulder for good measure. toji takes the equipment from you and replaces the bolts with new ones, motioning for you to stand up.

you wait as he washes up in the sink, scrubbing the grime from his hands and forearms. thick hands dry themselves on his uniform, stalking over to you with a look that can only be described as lust.

“think that’s all for today,” he says, voice hinting at something much deeper.

“you’re still on the clock,” you tell him half seriously, taking note of the 45 minutes left in his shift. still, warm hands settle on your hips, backing you up against the washing station 

“yeah?” he says, entertaining your jest. deft fingers slip under the hem of your shirt, lifting the garment off your body. 

“funny how that works out.” he starts, “guess I'll have to live with getting paid to fuck you.”

your skin is on fire, prickling with every calculated brush of his hand. you lean up to kiss him again, feeling his tongue flit over your bottom lip.

“someone will hear,” you whine in between kisses.

“they know not to bring it up around me,” he says, lifting you onto the counter with ease. 

toji’s zipper is next to go, stopping just under his crotch to reveal his boxers.

convenient you think, palming him through the opening in his coveralls. now that you think about it, why hadn’t you two fucked in the shop before?

scared lips peck over the tops of your covered breasts, biting down momentarily to leave a red mark.

the whine that escapes your mouth echoes throughout the spacious garage. blood rushing to your ears as embarrassment takes over.

“shhhh,” he tells you, crowding impossibly closer to muffle your sounds.

“can you stay quiet for me?” he asks, genuinely curious. a small nod is all he needs to seal your mouths in another kiss, shucking your bottoms down along with your panties to position himself in between your thighs.

you scoot to the edge of the counter, kicking off your shoes and wrapping your legs around your husband's waist. he doesn’t free himself from his boxers just yet, choosing to grind himself on your heat while you leave dark hickeys at the bottom of his neck.

“fuck.” he groans, flinching at how loud the sound echoes in the garage.

“quiet,” you whisper.

“i know, i know baby.” you watch as toji hooks a thumb into his boxers, his manhood already dripping with pre.

you pull away from your husband's neck right as he pushes in, a thin string of saliva connecting you to the dark bloom of purple your lips had left.

it’s a tight fit, but not impossible. the angle you’re at has you clenching down on the cock that’s splitting you open, squeezing him like a vice.

“fuck.” you whimper, lifting your husband’s tank top to expose his abs. toji bites the hem for you, letting you caress the dips of his toned muscles.

the distant echo of his rhythmic thrusts reverberates throughout the shop, drowning out your shared pants and groans.

“no fucking point in being quiet, huh?.” he mumbles with a smirk, taking you by surprise as thick fingers slide under your thighs and hoist you into the air.

“wait—wh-” you’re cut off as toji turns around, holding himself inside of you as he walks you over to the car.

“oh shit.” you gasp, mouth agape as you’re set down on the long hood of the impala.

your husband props his knee up on the vehicle, pummeling into you at an angle even deeper than before.

“thought you—ah- said no fingerprints.” you whimper, feeling yourself slide up the hood of the car with every thrust.

thick arms wrap around you, holding you in place while your husband ruts into you from above. 

“you’re helping me wipe this thing down after.--fuck” toji says with finality, pulling you into a deep kiss with a hand cradling the back of your head. 

the car continues to rock as the two of you go at it, filling the shop with noises that are beyond sinful.

“wanna ride you,” you mumble, taking in the way his eyes darken.

you’re flipped and carried up the hood of the car, the two of you now fully seated on a bed of cherry red aluminum.

toji settles into his back, satisfied with his work. he does it all without leaving your walls, cock still buried to the hilt.

“come on.” he encourages, moving you up and down his shaft with two hands around your waist. you’re practically being tossed around on his cock like you weigh nothing, panting and groaning while your walls struggle to accommodate his length.

“just how i like it, give it to me,” he tells you, leaning back on his forearms to watch where you two connect.

“gonna make me fucking cum, shit.”

you rock yourself onto your husband's dick, feeling him twitch each time you sink to the base.

“wait, wait.” you pant, smiling at the idea that just dawned on you.

you let toji slip out of you for the first time in half an hour, readjusting so your back is to him. cautiously, you reach both arms back, feeling him wrap both hands around your wrists.

“reverse cowgirl? on a fucking chevy? shit.” he chuckles, clearly impressed at your bold move. the raven-haired mechanic gathers both your wrists in one hand, using the other to guide his cock back into your heat.

the first thrust is agonizingly deep, pushing you closer to your edge. strong legs anchor themselves onto the hood of the car, steel-toed work boots leaving murky footprints.

“ah shit—like this?” toji groans, each hand holding your arms behind you at the wrist. 

“want it like this? want me to ruin you?

"please." you groan, feeling your climax hit you like a tsunami.

the sound that rips out of toji is purely carnal, a long groan reverberating throughout the garage.

"fuck--oh fuck-hah" he pants, still reeling from the sensation of your walls pulsating around him.

you slowly lift off of his cock, holding onto his leg to balance. warm, viscous fluid drips down your thighs and onto the red surface beneath you. you hadn't even realized he came inside with how intense your climax was.

"fuck, look at this." the raven-haired mechanic chuckles.

the state of the car is absolutely abhorrent. obsidian footprints bleed into sweaty handprints. you'd think a game of twister went down if you didn't know any better. 

"oh shit." you frown, stepping onto solid ground for the first time in half an hour.

guilt gnaws away at you at the thought of toji's hard work going to waste. this was his only form of income after all.

"hey, not a problem." he coos, pressing a kiss to your forehead. 

"s' nothing some scrubbing can't fix, right?" you nod, lifting your arms to let him redress you.

navy coveralls zip back into place, covering the mess of hickeys you left on his chest.

you finally button up your jeans, frowning at a murky streak of oil across one of the legs.

"must've tossed those on the ground when I took em' off of you." he chuckles, dodging a swat from you.

You pad into the lobby first, blissfully unaware of a very disturbed sugaru sitting at the front desk.

your husband follows soon after, watching you walk into the parking lot.

“see ya, man.” the mechanic says plainly, shooting his apprentice a smug wave with a laugh. 

[dcxdpdabbles]

Cave boy Danny just casually mentioning things that correspond with Bruce, like the time he stole an experimental power suit and shot a god corresponding with Bruce shooting Darkseid or the Infi-map being like the time Bruce was lost in the time stream, and the bats wondering how this kid can remain a civilian

Danny tried his best to not blink too quickly, as it may cause the stranger to shoot him. He honestly has no idea how he ended up here, but somehow, he was taken hostage alongside a bus full of people on his way to buy some chips.

He got tired of Alfred's instance to ban all junk food from the manor and had snuck out while the Wyanes had been busy going over plans for some big showdown with a guy named Scarecrow.

Danny doesn't know who that is and doesn't care to find out. The less he knows, the less likely he will have to deal with rouge. He's on vacation, dang it.

Or he was until the bus was taken over by a group of men wearing gas masks. They forced their way onto the bus when they stopped for some passengers, forcing the driver at gunpoint to drive them off course, and now they were heading to a wear house. People were crying, but Danny felt like screaming.

He just wanted spicy chips, and- maybe if he had the time- he would swing by the old junkyard to find a steering wheel for his ship! Fenton luck strikes again, it seemed.

"I wouldn't be so smug, Kane," One of the people in a gas mask shouts at him. He blinks up at the woman pointing her gun at his head but scoffs at her stance. His mother would throw a fit if Danny or Jazz ever placed their feet so off balance like that while wielding a weapon. "Once Dr.Crane is done with you-"

"I'm sorry did you just threaten me with myself?" Danny cuts her off. She pauses seemingly thrown before she sputters.

"No- not Kane, Crane."

He blinks at her. "You just said the same thing"

"C-R-A-N-E." She spells in a huff.

"Ohhhhh. Sorry, the mask makes it hard to understand you. Okay, so where were you? Dr. Crane is going to do what with me-?" Danny asks, leaning back in his seat, and waving his hand at her.

There is a moment of silence before she hits him across the face with her gun. "Don't you mock me!"

"Ow." He deadpans, rubbing at his cheek, and wonders if it was supposed to hurt. His healing had vanished the pain before her gun left his skin. "I thought we were having a conversation, but forgive me, I had no idea you had an inferiority complex and assumed everyone was mocking you. Let me guess, no one has ever told you they are proud of you, and now you are defensive of every action you take because-"

"Shut up!" His voice wobbles and Danny knows he hit the nail on the head.

"Does it keep you up at night? Does it freak you out that everyone can see your issues on your face as bright as day? I bet it does it. Bet it causes you to cry like a sad little confused kid who still can't figure out how to ask for help." He doesn't mock. He states it as fact because that is what it was. Fact. She does break down about it; he can tell by her reaction, and his tone makes it all the harder to swallow.

"I'll kill you!"

"Do it." He smiles. "Saves me from your boss. But will that keep you safe? Let's find out! How long will it be before he breaks you down? Ten, maybe fifteen minutes? And he will break you; you know he will. He's already halfway there."

"I-" She stumbles away from him. He doesn't have to see her face to know it's gone pale. Ha.

One of her crew hits her shoulder, having heard him speaking while the rest of the bus stares. "Stop letting him into your head!"

"Oh, what's your name?" Danny asks, blinking his large blue eyes at the man, watching his body language for clues. His eyes zero in on three belts and how they all match up at the buckle despite the fact that they are stacked on top of each other. Didn't Jazz once say that a belt with that much control hinted about attention to detail?

Hmm.

"Is the plan falling apart- can you not control it? The way life just moves on without you and that freaks you out doesn't it. The lake of control?" He asks, and the man jerks back. Bingo.

"Holy shit," A teenager whispers in the back horrified. "It's Dr. Crane jr."

"No, that's the Rabid Dog," Another answer. "Heard he made three elites cry after talking to him for more than ten minutes."

Danny is about to open his mouth when suddenly Robin crashes through the front window. Rude. There is glass everywhere now.

Hours later, Alfred franticly checks him over for injuries while the rest are freaking out. Apparently, they had feared to find Danny screaming from terrible visions but instead found him mentally breaking the hired goons with Jazz's training. "It's not like they did anything. I had a harder time stealing a super suit than those fruitloops-"

"You stole a what?" Tim cuts him off, eyes narrowed. Danny shrugs.

"I mean, haven't we all stolen a super suit?"

"Literally, no one here has done that," Steph tells him, and Danny tilts his head.

"You guys must have had boring childhoods. Surely you at least tried to organize your school into a battle-ready militia? No one can finish school without doing that at least once."

Dick raises a hand. "Brucie, how common is this in your world? Because that's alarming."

"All the kids at my school do that. My graduating class has done it three different times back in freshmen year." He shrugs. Cass makes a strange noise in the back of her throat.

"Not a lie. Brucie is strange," She tells the group, and everyone stares in bewilderment at the boy sitting on the medical table, even Bruce.

Danny smiles at them sweetly like he would at Vlad when the fruitloop is over, and he gets his parents to throw him out sooner than he wants to leave. It curves with just the right amount of innocence and mischievous nature that no one can tell if it's a positive or deadly expression.

"You are from a war-torn world?" Damian inquires, fingers under his chin with a frown. "How are you so carefree?"

"Oh no, we haven't had a war in about- eh fifty years? Give or take." He answers and once again Cass confirms the truth of his words.

This does nothing to settle their nerves.

"Every day I learn more about teenage Bruce, and every day I am more unsettled," Jason announces, and the rest of the Bats nod. Danny's smile turns broader and softer. It makes him more attractive but unsettling in a way.

Alfred sighs with a fond smile. "Oh, the memories. Master Bruce used to smile at his dates in the same way. I can picture him taking that sweet girl to the movies as if though it was yesterday."

"Bruce, how in the world did you get people to date you? That's creepy as hell. " Dick accuses the man who only shrugs.

"Oliver once told me it was part of the thrill. The idea that I could kill them."

"Why!?"

"I wish I knew chum."

Danny slips the control into his sleeve- he will rip it apart later for the Bluetooth piece. He will wait till the Waynes are too busy with Bruce's old stories about his first few dates to take apart the fear gas bomb he took from the woman earlier today. Could he use it as a fuel?

He'll have to do some tests.