#How To Hit A Driver Straight EVERY TIME! -…...

[ybklix]

𝑨𝒓𝒕 𝑫𝒆𝒄𝒐

♱‧₊˚. pairing: dom!hwanghyunjin x sub!femreader 𓈒 ୨९⟡₊⋆∘ synopsis: An eccentric and peculiar artist, whose art is well known for its captivating and erotic method, is fascinated by you, who naively thought you just accepted a small job for him. ೨౿ ⋆ ˚｡ genre — warnings: MDNI, smut, shibari ropeplay, dubcon, bdsm, sex toys, impact play, spanking, edging, overstimulation, orgasm denial, multiple orgasms, fingering, cunnilingus, unprotected sex, creampie, pet names. ⊱ ۫ ׅ ✧ word count: 9.3k

♬⋆.˚ art deco by lana del rey ♥︎ closer by nine inch nails ♥︎ tear you apart by she wants revange ♥︎ red lights by stray kids

(𝗸𝗶𝗻𝗸𝘁𝗼𝗯𝗲𝗿 '𝟮𝟰) ₊˚🕯️♱‧₊˚. 04: artist

wen’s note: bitch christian grey who, also red lights is a rope bunny slut wbk

The distant scent of cigarette smoke hit your face along with the cold night breeze. You shrank into your jacket, feeling your whole body shiver with cold as you waited for the driver you paid for in an app, to wait outside the large chateau property in the middle of nowhere.

It was cold and you felt the anxiety that there was no one left but you.

You heard footsteps behind you and with a shiver you turned, seeing how from the darkness and dim light emerged the bearing of a tall man in a suit.

You would be lying if you said you didn’t recognize him, someone like him would stand out anywhere. Hwang Hyunjin. A handsome adult with long black hair as shiny as night and slitted, villainous eyes in contrast to the rest of his smooth, harmonious face with beautiful bushy eyebrows, a straight nose, and full lips. He was so beautiful and handsome that he also became the model sometimes.

Hyunjin came out for fresh air and he noticed you, he had noticed you from the gallery, the young girl making little notes. Hyunjin had counted the journalists in his exhibition and knew their names and faces but you… he had never seen you, you were too young to work in journalism or as a critic, and yet you still took your notes.

Hyunjin approached you, playfully puffing on his cigarette.

“What did you think of today’s exhibition?”

You looked at him, surprised, you had never been that close to him or talked to him directly but you certainly knew his voice from the one or another interview you saw on the internet. Ah, the great exhibition today by Hwang Hyunjin, you were grateful and amazed that you had gotten a spot to be able to attend. His latest art exhibit, a compilation of sculptures, paintings, and photography inspired by 1920s nightlife, Art Deco, The Great Gatsby, Fitzgerald and Zelda, Hemmingway, Lempicka and Picasso, in a place perfectly with an interior design exactly referring to that era. Hyunjin never did small exhibitions or hung around in small galleries, if he exhibited his art he did it big, in the famous Hwang chateau with a very strict list of upper-class guests, it was not only an exhibition, but a fashion show and almost a carpet event as his dress code was strict and even the most important fashion magazines and designers attended.

You were surprised that he suddenly walked up and spoke to you. You had been lucky enough that the university had gotten you a very coveted spot at the event. You had enjoyed his art… you just couldn’t lie about feeling a little uncomfortable seeing it for the first time in person with your own eyes. His classic and characteristic section of somewhat erotic photographs of women being tightly bound. The photos showed naked and semi-naked women with their red, slightly purple limbs, signs of how truly tight the ropes must have been. But Hwang Hyunjin was praised for his play with eroticism and a popular fetish practice.

In fact, there were so many unsolved rumors and mysteries regarding the uproar of those photographs, of which you were very curious about.

You had to be honest, you were in front of the artist himself, which is very busy and coveted in the art world, you didn’t have that opportunity every day; plus it was what you did, you wrote your most honest thoughts.

“I thought it was beautiful, wicked, perverse and devious.”

You added a bit of mischief and sarcasm in your tone, throwing in a few popular adjectives of which they catalogued his art over the years, an amusing reference that Hyunjin understood perfectly and you were relieved that he did, as if you had instantly connected. He laughed playfully, forming a smile that showed his teeth and narrowed his eyes.

“Wicked and devious, who are you, The New Yorker?” he took another puff of his cigarette, “They called me wicked and compared me to a politician, how dare they, fucking bastards. I prefer the version of The New York Times.”

Erotic and provocative. An artist born to succeed. Art whose photography arouses more than one feeling. Once in their lifetimes, unique art that happens once in many years. The one Hwang Hyunjin. Young and ambitious.

You smiled, as he was clearly just playing along and feigning an angry tone.

“By the way, I’m Hwang Hyunjin” he added more softly staring at you, stepping on the butt of his cigarette.

“I know, nice to meet you, Mr. Hwang.”

He raised his dark eyebrows as he licked his lips, waiting for an answer.

“And… you are…”

“Y/n” you replied, repeating it with your last name.

Hyunjin looked you up and down for a few seconds and your compliance vanished from you in seconds, now you were nervous, feeling penetrated by his gaze in that cold, dark night. You couldn’t lie, Hyunjin was fucking hot and handsome, his scent exquisite and his presence out of this world, he was worthy of a work of art on his own.

“Mmm… I see” he met your eyes again, “Did you come as an enjoyer or a critic?”

“A little of both” you said proudly with a smile.

“Mmm, you can never be both” cold weather steam now coming out of his mouth every time he spoke, “You work for some magazine… are you waiting for someone? I don’t think I’ve ever seen a face like yours before…”

You almost fell at his feet at his soft rambling tone of voice, you almost believed him and fell for his charms that you were sure was just another one of his moves as an artist. So you just let out a soft chuckle, but his face reflected subtle genuine confusion.

“No… I’m here for college, I also study art, I got on the list… I have a little blog of my exhibition reviews.”

Hyunjin listened to you carefully, “Ah… I had no idea a college girl would come…” he whispered almost to himself, “And a blog? Like… written? People still use that?” he added amused

You smiled, “Well so far it’s going well.”

“I’m glad. You’re going to write about this? What’s it called?”

You knew exactly what to write about, a charming, playful artist with a mysterious haze about him, you were not to be fooled by his charms…. Hwang Hyunjin was still hiding things.

“Sure, it’s called Red Lights.”

“Ah, of course I’ve seen it, you do those reviews?” your eyes reflected mild surprise, “I liked that write-up about Lee Felix’s fashion collection… but I don’t remember seeing you there on your blog.”

You lightly bit your lower lip feeling a little flattered that someone like him would read something like that, maybe it came to him because of the last review you did of his exhibition months ago that you saw online.

You called his art and method erotic, like many other major media, but it wasn’t just because it was nude… it was because there really was something erotic about it. First, the bondage of the woman was shown, and in another photograph the genuine and true face of pleasure itself, a twisted pleasure, a wicked smile, and shiny tears. That left as much to the viewer’s imagination as the popular belief that it was evident that Hyunjin was pleasuring or performing sexual acts on his models. In your writing, you revealed that Hyunjin himself had exposed liking that sort of thing, such as discipline and light physical abuse. You did not call him a sadist as such since it was just a pair of nudes and ropes tightly bound a woman’s body and upper limbs and their faces with tears of joy. You mentioned the mystery that the photograph captured and left a faithful follower of Hyunjin wondering how it was always a different woman. He had no fixed muse, despite also expressing how romantic he was.

You suddenly felt insecure remembering your review of him, you left more questions than answers but you couldn’t help it. No one really knew Hyunjin outside of the public eye. He could be whatever, his attitude now could just be part of his technique, he was a spontaneous artist, many times compared to Helmut Newton, but you weren’t sure about that, Hyunjin’s art was more haunting and in color.

“You haven’t seen me because I never show my face. I only write. But my instagram is there.”

Hyunjin let out a giggle and you blushed instantly, your body heated in embarrassment, why would you say something like that to an artist much older than you that you had a certain social media. A notification on your cell phone interrupted you, the driver texted that he was close to arriving.

Hyunjin thought it was cute that a beauty like you wasn’t a bit snooty and showing your face, making short art information videos, as it was obvious you had little influence, attending fancy events, dressing well, but still kept to the old method of simple writing. Maybe you were the one looking for a real position in one of those magazines. Maybe you were a beautiful girl stuck in the present day with an old soul.

He couldn’t deny that you had absolutely captured his attention. He was smitten. You were young and smart, but care and rough sex could make you dumb, which was what his deepest, most perverse thoughts hid.

“Sure, a face like yours is unique…” you smiled shyly, ”I’d remember and recognize it everywhere.”

The driver was getting closer and closer to his destination. Hyunjin licked his lips softly and a silence formed in the cold night. He questioned… whether to do it… when every girl he chooses, he studies and gets to know her first, but you arrived so spontaneously, dressed in a Maison Margiela by Galliano that gave those touches of a classic 2000’s Dior.

He acted impulsively.

“What are you doing this Monday afternoon?”

Your heart raced. If he said so, you’d cancel anything.

“Nothing in particular, I’m going to college early.”

“Are you interested in modeling for me?”

Monday, but what a strange and rushed day. Hyunjin didn’t even have plans to start his work at once, but he didn’t want to let you go. He wanted you in his art, somehow something about you connected so much with Art Deco.

The car stopped in front of you right with the descriptions that came in the app. Hyunjin didn’t think you would leave so suddenly, he didn’t even contemplate it.

You thought about it… modeling for him… it meant posing nude? And if the rumors were true… you would be subjected to sexual activity. It was the perfect opportunity to see with your own eyes and fully experience the true process and method of Hyunjin’s art.

“Can I ask you something?”

Anything, Hyunjin thought. He nodded, sensing that the situation was being rushed since you had to get into the car.

“Can I write about it?”

“Deal” Hyunjin didn’t even think twice about it, he would see how he would manage, “I’ll send you the details later. See you soon.”

You got into the car and Hyunjin closed the door for you, bowing with a tender smile that you caught a glimpse of from the window. You wondered if he was staying alone in the huge chateau.

You would finally find out what’s really going on behind the camera.

Only Hwang Hyunjin could make your Monday so fucking interesting. You were about to spend the afternoon with him and that made you nervous, despite having received all the information in the e-mail where it was specifically worded by Hyunjin’s staff that it would be a simple portrait modeling.

You were slightly disappointed, not because you expected to be tied up and have sex with the most handsome man your eyes have ever seen, but because you wanted answers to all the questions that caused a buzz in the art community, you thought you would be special and be the first to write details about working for Hwang Hyunjin, because every woman he photographs are young and unknown to the public and not much is known about them, not even Hyunjin shows them in his exhibitions so that the public knows that they are real, that they existed and are not just art captured from him… or maybe they were just that. By working for him you became his property and immortalized as such, maybe the beautiful twisted women were others in their daily life.

Still… you hoped you could ask him a few questions and maybe he might reveal something.

Hyunjin was specific with your makeup, natural, with subtle gold with silver glitter eyeshadow and thin-pencil eyeliner. His team showed you in the email the example and sent you exactly the right eyeshadow, foundation, soft blush in a cool pink shade, and the perfect nude shade of silky lipstick. You complemented the makeup hoping it would be what Hyunjin had wanted. He had also been specific with the clothes, nothing that would make marks on your skin, from tight underwear or clothes.

You arrived at the address Hyunjin gave you. A lonely loft building, owned by Hyunjin, where he had his photography equipment and a small studio. Upon entering it was nothing like you expected, everything was perfectly decorated, you should have seen it coming from him.

He greeted you with a smile and you were surprised how he became more handsome in two days… or you were beginning to see him differently after your little paranoia you kept looking for things about him, you couldn’t deny it, he had a unique beauty and charming personality without even trying, something that captivated you and trapped you.

But it was very well known that Hyunjin was a guy who loved to party despite being reserved, he was the perfect combination of a partying artist, lonely, mysterious, and romantic, all his love life was very well hidden, and nothing was known about him romantically other than his art, lifestyle and the way he expresses himself.

Hyunjin saw you with a sparkle in his eyes, knowing you would document everything later. His plan was to go moderately slow, though he couldn’t wait and was itching to tie up your body until you were bruised. But first, he would charm you, with little details and photo shoot appointments, and before you knew it, he would be offering you something much more interesting. He recognized that the process could take days, weeks…

“Welcome. You look beautiful, my godiva. I’ll show you around.”

“Godiva?”

You followed Hyunjin and he turned with a tender smile continuing his walk. Hyunjin looked so good, wearing all-black attire, a thin turtleneck sweater and pants that matched his manly long legs, with his hair slicked back and ring details on his long fingers and a watch on his wrist.

“It is one of my favorite paintings with a story, a pretty and kind woman whose kindness and heart changed her ambitious husband’s mind and helped the village, in exchange for a shameful sacrifice, you know the story?”

“I know it, yes… why did you call me that?”

“Do you want an explanation for everything, don’t you, sweet girl?” he looked at you amused, “Because you are my kind woman. For today. My muse.”

You felt a good shiver. You were happy but at the same time you thought maybe then it’s something he says to every woman who passes through here or works for him. Just another part of his tricks.

You didn’t understand why you were suddenly making such a big deal out of it, it wasn’t like someone like Hyunjin was magically going to fall in love with you.

Hyunjin showed you around, telling you details and stories while you listened to him carefully… but there were times when you got lost in the movement of his lips, you couldn’t help it, so full, so kissable; he noticed it and an occasional mischievous, shy smile escaped from him, normally he felt like he had the highest ego… but with you, it felt like the innocence of a first date.

“Wouldn’t you be taking notes of everything I would tell you?” he paused in his talk to tell you.

You opened your eyes slightly, you knew exactly what to write. Your evening with a real artist, an attractive and charming one, all your college girl classmates would go crazy. Anyone who saw Hyunjin would have a crush on him.

“Oh, I’ll remember everything, don’t worry Mr. Hwang.”

Hyunjin licked his lips, arousing his senses that you spoke to him formally.

“God, I wish I could give you something better to remember tonight” he whispered, his eyes glued on you then averted, you had heard him. “Call me Hyunjin.”

Next was your photoshoot of which you hadn’t felt nervous about until he was attractively setting up his camera, you hadn’t even prepared yourself… the whole damn time you were thinking about his other kind of pictures, the erotic ones, how he tied with his nimble, long fingers and what was really going on for women to have that fucked expression on their face. You only knew that Hyunjin himself talked about that very thing three years ago, that he traveled to Japan to relax, to find inspiration in the little things, and that suddenly one day he discovered the art of shibari, the Japanese rope play and that he learned it from scratch; months after that trip to Japan the world got the first photographs.

It couldn’t be possible… that it was you who was lusting after Hyunjin, and if that was his plan or how he used to do it, it was working, you didn’t care. His clothes were tight on his manly, slender figure… and his thighs thick, but you couldn’t help but notice the large bulge that formed precisely there, the bulge of his notorious cock, which was right there, impossible to miss and without needing to be hard, you cursed mentally, thinking it must be big.

You started to get hot, sweating slightly from your lower back, the dirty thoughts were happening at an incredible speed in your head.

He approached you, ready for the pictures and noticed the faint red color on your cheeks; he smiled smugly, as he had done nothing but exist and you were already all flushed.

You confessed to him that it was weird being the model because you used to be the artist, but he took it upon himself to help you.

You tried on different outfits that suddenly didn’t feel like you. And after a while, you thought you were done when he suddenly ordered you in a harsher tone of voice:

“Wear this Versace, now. I’ll take pictures of you.”

You were surprised because he had all along been polite and didn’t order as such… but you liked how his voice suddenly got thicker as he ordered you something.

The shoot was officially over, and after that and with timid steps, you were ready to get back into your clothes again, Hyunjin was tidying up his photography equipment a bit when he stopped you.

“Where are you going? Stay dressed like that” he ordered you again and then realized his tone, “You can keep the dress… it’s made to fit you. Okay, any questions now that we’re done?”

Too many, but you had no idea how to phrase them.

“It’s night now, would you like to go out to dinner somewhere taking advantage of that pretty dress you have on, sweetie?”

He was driving you crazy, ordering you around but then talking cute to you while looking this handsome and asking you out. You didn’t turn him down.

On the way to the restaurant in Hyunjin’s car there was a tense atmosphere somehow, but he softened it with small talk, he really liked to talk, he was tender.

You arrived at a fancy place, you weren’t ready for all that but you let yourself go, just walking beside him felt good already.

A delicious dinner, a couple of drinks, and you and Hyunjin were getting to know each other more and more and becoming more comfortable with each other. Even comfortable enough to ask him:

“So… how do you do it?”

“Do what?” he replied with a smile.

You looked at him with your eyes narrowed.

“Your… photographs…”

“Well, with a camera” he joked, “What photographs?” Hyunjin noticed your slight uncertainty to answer in seconds and understood. “Ahh, those photographs. You’re dying to know, aren't you?” he said smugly.

“Of course not…” you jokingly replied.

It was all giggles, until he got serious, took from his glass with champagne and, with the glass near his lips said:

“Do you want to find out for yourself? I bet you want to try.”

A wicked smile formed on Hyunjin’s face each time you got closer to your destination. He had fantasized about it but he didn’t want to seem like a pervert or rush things with you… but you agreed, you did it and now you couldn’t believe it.

You were more and more surprised because it had been 20 minutes since you had left the city and just driving out of town. Twenty more minutes and Hyunjin finally stopped the car in the middle of nowhere, in front of a traditional Korean house.

A part of you trembled that you felt it in the foreground, that it was you who now let out tears of pleasure as you had fantasized as a handsome, older man like Hyunjin. But another part of you hoped it was only information told.

Hyunjin opened the car door for you and you looked at the place… truly a house in the middle of nowhere among the trees. You felt a chill and the cold of the night on your skin, thinking then that’s where it all happens, where other women have been before you.

“This hanok belonged to my grandfather and he passed it down to me. I’ve kept it ever since. I learned a lot from him, I owe my love of the art to him.”

Hyunjin spoke sincerely. You admired the nice garden.

“It’s nice and peaceful.”

You were trembling with nerves.

Finally, you entered the main room. Everything was still so traditional, with wood everywhere, but you noticed the little modern details Hyunjin added. Every one of his places was just like another art exhibition, decorated with paintings.

“I use it to relax, I get distracted here for a really good time and it's ideal for inviting my friends over… and well, this is where I usually practice bondage.”

You nodded, avoiding looking him in the eye. You wanted to leave. Since you knew the place you could leave; you were biting your lip in constant regret that you were actually going to be tied up. But you wanted to leave because you were embarrassed, not because you didn’t want it—the unique sex experience.

“Come here. You wanted to see it for yourself.”

A couple more rooms with sliding doors. You arrived, but Hyunjin paused with his hand on the door.

“So that you know absolutely everything…” he spoke, looking you in the eyes again.

You nodded, you were anxious and slightly excited but you were beginning to accept your fate —which you weren’t complaining much about—. Hyunjin continued:

“Usually this is where I take the pictures, I like to play with the scenery and re-decorate it, that’s why you see different scenery” he pointed in front of a spot in the room with more photography equipment. “Before entering the model is given a consent form that they decide whether to sign or not, it talks about agreeing to pose nude, to have risqué photos taken even on her genitals, and to abide by my orders as well as choosing a safe word in any case she feels uncomfortable or doesn’t have as much tolerance for pain. I like to play with them, dress them, tie them up, and let the art perform itself.”

Your breath shortened. It was so twisted but coming from his lips, voice, and serious tone… why it was so hot and mesmerizing.

It was a small disappointment that before you there were multiple women and you could almost imagine their naive and excited faces before walking through that door. The contract thing? Slick and dirty.

“Can I see it?” you said suddenly.

He raised an eyebrow in confusion looking so attractive, there was something about his bearing that looked commanding all of a sudden, as if his eyes became sharper and his body more desirable. You were impatient, at least you wanted to kiss him, you didn’t understand why so much desperation.

“The contract” you sentenced.

Hyunjin chuckled and walked over to a desk, pulling out two sheets of paper from some folders and handed them to you.

You bit your lip as you held them… thinking that maybe you were getting excited in vain, that after all, he wasn’t inviting you to be one of his models and that he hadn't even given you the contract nor did he look like he intended to give it to you, just because you asked.

The contract was specific and explicit and talked about you agreeing to be Hyunjin’s submissive for as long as he chooses by being inside that property. In the end, it said something that made too much sense, that after the shoot and when all is concluded, the model should only approach and address him professionally and under no circumstances divulge what she experienced and did. The model has the right to attend the event where her photographs will be exhibited and is obliged to use an artistic name or pseudonym. And it ended with an impressive amount of money with which she would be paid.

You sighed softly as you finished reading. It sounded private and serious from what you said:

“I won’t write about this.”

“Wise decision. But because I like you so much I can give you the exclusive and you decide already whether to write or not, sweetheart.”

You didn’t even have time to think when Hyunjin took the papers from your hand and slid the door open, revealing a long rectangular room decorated in classic wood and well-lit, with a sweet and mesmerizing scent, everything was spotless… but in the room, there was evidently sex practice furniture.

“Obviously everything is clean, it’s rigorously cleaned every time the mess is finished, and you’re lucky that the chairs and stuff are new.”

Lucky. You were at a loss for words. It was real. It was what he liked to do. You didn’t judge him, it was so normal, just another way he lived his sex life. But it was unknown to you, at least living it or actually seeing it and the unknown gives you that certain uneasy feeling.

Hyunjin took a step forward staring at you still holding the papers in his hand.

“Do you want to give it a try? Do you want to sign the contract?” he brought his face close to yours with a smug smile. “It can be for artistic purposes, just so you understand the art you’re so curious about” he crooned, playfully.

You shuddered and maintaining eye contact you nodded shyly. You knew exactly what you were agreeing to, there was no need to play dumb, you wanted it, you wanted it ever since you saw him when you entered his loft.

“You can sign later. I’ll get you dressed” Hyunjin spoke, in a more cheerful and excited tone.

He was just as, if not slightly more impatient than you. He hadn’t felt this aroused in a while, most of the time he did get aroused but it was more like pleasure play, he found satisfaction and didn’t get too involved, he was more dominant and knew how to control it… he was’'t sure if he could pull that off with you just now.

You went back to giving a visual tour of the place as Hyunjin walked to another door that appeared to be a closet. You sighed as soon as you saw that it was a closet, with lingerie, sex toys and his ropes.

Hyunjin approached you, holding a silky white babydoll and thigh high sheer stockings also white. He held your face for the first time, making your heart almost stop as you saw him so close and felt his warm hands and cold rings on your cheeks.

“Oh, sweetheart, I’m going to dress you in white because…. you have that energy in you so pure and wise, you’re as beautiful as a woman waiting dressed in white at the altar, anyone who marries you will be a lucky fucking son of a bitch. So just for tonight be everything to me, my object of pleasure, my lover, my wife.”

Hyunjin caressed your cheek and you felt your knees go weak at hearing him and seeing the gleam in his dark eyes, you didn’t even have that silly thought that he might have told someone else, you didn’t care, at least you were the one hearing it and living it right at this moment, with him.

“Undress, love, now” he ordered you softly, sliding the zipper of your dress and he took two steps back and moved a little away from you.

His piercing gaze watched you standing there and a subtle wicked smile twitched the corners of his lips. You did as he ordered and as soon as your dress fell to the floor the sensitive spot on your pussy throbbed in excitement, there was something in the atmosphere and in the room beyond your arousal and his incredible sexual energy, something about the place made you feel haunted, as if the silence of the night had a supernatural erotic power on you, you were as uneasy as you had ever been.

Hyunjin licked his lips, watching you take off your last little garments, your underwear. You were so wet, that you felt your wetness slide into your folds as you took off your panties. This time, his cock was unbelievably hard at the sight of your naked body. Hyunjin’s world stopped for a second as his cock throbbed in complete pleasure, and he paused to watch you carefully without missing any detail about you, from your shy and slightly nervous expression to the shape of your neck and how it connected to the delicacy of your shoulders and collarbones, showing your chest and breasts… the shape of them, your nipples, your delicate limbs, your abdomen and the sweet juicy skin of your pubis… every detail, down to the moles on your body. He was satisfied.

“You are beautiful,” he told you, moving closer to you.

Up close he became more absorbed and managed to perceive the scent of your perfume, delighting himself in it. He bit his lower lip and couldn’t resist how soft your exposed breasts looked, so he brought both his hands to your tits, making you shudder slightly, massaging them gently, with the babydoll on his broad shoulder. You too bit your lip in pleasure to stop a sigh. You saw his big hands grab your breasts, move them and play with your nipple and in the process you noticed the huge erection in his pants and then you saw his face, thinking he was even bigger with a hard cock, you wanted Hyunjin now, you needed him, you needed to feel him inside you, in your hands, in your mouth… He was so close to you… you could appreciate his so manly features perfectly marked, like his nose and sharp jaw and his lips, you wanted to kiss him and have him take you at once, you felt he could fuck you right there, you were already so ready for his cock to slide into you without even truly touching him.

He repeated your act, he saw your breasts and enjoyed the feel of your tits adjusting to his hands and then he watched your sweet face holding back and he smiled.

“You like that, bunny, huh? Answer everything I tell you.”

“Yes” you sighed.

His giggle again appeared and what started out sweet became more and more intense, squeezing your breasts with intensity and treating them rougher, ending with a rough play towards your nipples that made you sigh.

“Arms up, my baby doll, I’m going to dress you.”

He took his hands off your breasts leaving you with a void as it felt too good, he was stimulating you and turning you on more. Hyunjin put the silky robe on you and took the opportunity to caress and squeeze your ass, taking you to heaven. He got down on his knees and put on your stockings, caressing and squeezing your thighs, until he couldn’t resist, he lifted the robe covering your pussy and his face was in front of your mons pubis, Hyunjin finely ran his fingers on your slick once, and then did it deeply again, earning an unexpected shudder and soft moan from you.

“Shit, you’re so fucking wet, baby.”

He smirked and went to the closet again, finally pulling out the ropes. You didn’t move an inch.

Hyunjin began untying and preparing them, standing in front of you at a distance and looking so fucking sexy as his hands and arms wrapped around the rope.

“Do you know why I chose this place? A house in the middle of nowhere?” he commented, a flirtatious tone in his voice preparing the long rope.

He looked at you and you shook your head, he smiled running his tongue along his cavity, satisfying him as you were suddenly at a loss for words as you had gone from being bubbly and chatty with him to showing yourself just the way he liked it: submissive. A submissive with the big eyes of a frightened bunny, of a prey about to be devoured, of a helpless woman about to be fucked hard.

“Because I took so much admiration for this practice in Japan and my first bondage I did when I was young in a traditional Japanese house, the place inspired me too much and I remembered I had this house a bit abandoned… but the best part of it all is that you are free to make all the noise. You can cry all you want, no soul but me is going to hear you scream.”

Your skin stood on end, the last sentence had been dangerous in every way, hot, commanding and when you least knew it, he was already close to you rolling up his sleeves and ready to start the real attraction.

“Turn around and put your arms behind your back.” he ordered, in a rougher way and intimidating you with his gaze.

You obeyed him and stood staring up at the traditional walls of the room and felt the sensation of the soft rope passing through your arms and Hyunjin placing it in front of your body, encircling your breasts and abdomen, and going up your shoulders. You were so excited that if you opened your mouth you feared a moan would come out of it.

“So… what’s going to be your safe word?” he questioned in a rough, seductive voice and you felt your first squeeze in your arms through the ropes. “Or will you make a bad girl and not need it? That never happens…”

You hadn’t thought about it… was it so painful as to require a word? You thought you were holding on. You will.

“There will be no safe word” you mentioned in a shaky voice.

The next squeeze and the first strong tie in your arms.

“You are a little sick. I adore it. You want to be all spunky girl” he kept on tying, each time squeezing tighter and drawing your arms tighter together, “Let’s see how that works out for you, honey.”

And suddenly, it wasn’t the intensity of the bondage that surprised you, but the way he began to tease you, feeling his warm breath behind you, his heavy breathing, and his erection rubbing against your body.

“Tell me, my dear, have you tried submission and bondage before…?”

“No.”

He tied hard. Squeezing around your breasts, marking them on the babydoll.

“It will be an honor to be the first. But I won’t be gentle, I never am. Do you like rough sex?”

“I-I don’t know.”

You weren’t even beginning to think straight, your pussy was throbbing painfully down there, you were afraid you were going to start dripping from how turned on you were and he was just tying you up and rubbing his erection against you. All you could think about was how good his long fingers must look holding the rope and skillfully tying you up, you wished you had eyes on your back right about now.

“You don’t know?” he tied tight close to your hands, finishing. “You’ve never been fucked hard? Or don’t tell me you’re a virgin?”

You swallowed nervously, gulping saliva that burned in your throat from how enormously aroused you were, your heartbeat thundering in your ears.

“I’m not…”

“Oh yeah? Who was the lucky guy who entered paradise between your legs for the first time?”

Hyunjin stepped back, appreciating the beauty of the bonds in your arms, leaving you immobilized and staggering. He walked to the front of you with a predatory gaze, admiring his creation now on the front of your body, your breasts well marked on the fabric and your abdomen bound in a figure.

“Remember to answer everything, I thought you would be a good girl.”

You looked into his eyes, your big, merciful eyes, full of pure sexual ecstasy.

“My first boyfriend, when I was 19.”

“How is he now?” Hunjin ran his hands through your hair, pushing it a little away from your face, “Knowing he won something wonderful in life, your purity.”

You felt slightly humiliated, you were facing him, in a slightly curved position because of the tight bonds that bothered your arms, which bothered your circulation a little.

“He’s fine, I think. He studied law.”

“Too bad for him, he lost you, but now you’re mine.”

Hyunjin walked out of the room to return with his camera in hands.

“There go the first pictures, hun..”

Flash behind your back, this time Hyunjin didn’t bother to change the setting of the place, he had never shown the place as such, he always decorated it in a way that suited the concept of his exhibition, but you had been so spontaneous, you weren’t even planned for weeks like all his models, the concept was the simple nature of desire, erotic and experimentation.

Then he took pictures of your body in front.

“Fuck they look so good, so homely and domestic. I love it” he mentioned looking at the pictures.

He put the camera away leaving it on the floor carpet and moved your body from your shoulders forcing you to take a few steps, all the way to the center under a bar with chuncky metal hooks hanging from its ceiling.

“You seemed to get so excited at the idea of being tied up. But let’s steady your position, sweetheart.”

Hyunjin hooked you from the rope that ran behind your shoulders and left you hanging, just touching your toes to the floor. You felt strange and excited, unable to move and hanging there like nothing.

He smiled again, satisfied and wicked and his erection throbbed in pleasure at the sight of your state, helpless and bound.

“You still want to know how I take my pictures” he whispered hotly in your ear.

He gently pulled away until you felt his hair brush against your cheek, being in that position and tied up was making you uncomfortable but there was something so hot about it.

“Yes, Hyunjin.”

At this point you couldn’t say no to him and you weren’t thinking clearly, other than the feeling of your limbs and body tied, dangling and your throbbing cunt.

“I know absolutely everything they say about me, but although it may surprise you I never fuck my models, I don’t even kiss them, but I do like to play with them, with their pleasure and temperament, I enjoy taking them to the extreme and having them explore the very capabilities of their body…”

Hyunjin spoke close to your face, like a villain telling his plan to the poor helpless and immobile victim.

“Oh, honey, but I asked you if you like rough sex because I plan to fuck you” he caressed your cheek with his thumb.

He turned away to go back to his kinky closet.

“Wooden paddle or leather?” he hummed for himself, “What will I beat your cute ass with?”

You began to move your hands in desperation looking for a release. It was starting to bother you but you didn’t want to complain, you wanted to truly feel that rare and erotic experience.

Hyunjin approached you, with a vibrator and his leather spanking paddle.

“You’re a good sweet girl, let me get you ready.”

He ran his hand in your folds and you moaned instantly, shuddering, he played with your clit and he bit his lip, getting lost in the soft, sticky, warm feeling of your pussy lips wrapping his fingers. It was feeling so good, you were so needy. Your nipples hardened and your body sought to move in pleasure.

“Go on, sweetheart, make all the noise you want, don’t be afraid to enjoy absolutely everything.”

You let out a choked moan, you pressed your hands against each other unable to move your limbs, it was feeling like heaven itself to be touched by him as you looked into his eyes, his sultry gaze and wicked smile.

“God, you are so wet, are you liking this, my bunny?”

You nodded, desperate.

“Yes!” you moaned in pleasure and surprise as you spoke just as he thrust two fingers into you.

His fingers were perfect in you, so long reaching a soft spot inside you as he stirred them deep in you, almost as if exploring then slowly penetrating you. Hyunjin felt his erection to the fullest, if it wasn’t for his very good control and management of his body, he would be whimpering with excitement, everything about you made him so fucking horny.

But then he left you an emptiness, as he removed his fingers from you. You opened your mouth, breathing was becoming a difficult task, Hyunjin took advantage of your expression and stuck his fingers that were in your pussy to mouth.

“Taste yourself. I bet you taste so good my little doll” he removed his hand from your mouth to hold the sex toy, “Alright, this goes inside you.”

You whimpered in pleasure moving your legs in desperation as you felt the vibrator slide deep inside you, you watched as Hyunjin pushed it into you settling it into a delicious and strategic spot. You again noticed his huge erection and had a great need to touch it… but you were right in that painful situation with your limbs without proper circulation. He placed the single sofa of the room right in front of you and sat comfortably as if having a girl tied up and hanging was the most normal thing on a Monday night for him. Hyunjin placed his calf on top of his thigh, watching you. He stirred in place as sitting made the fabric of his pants squeeze his erection tighter and he grunted softly.

In his right hand he held the small vibrator control and didn’t hesitate to use it, with a single click and a wicked grin on his part, the toy began to do its thing inside you making you moan breathlessly.

You bit your lip hard and swirled your pelvis in pleasure, cursing softly as your walls vibrated, you felt it tingle in you, your labia majora were already a mess. Hyunjin pressed his lips together, examining how you writhed in pleasure with the limited body parts you could move, your head, your neck and your lower limbs.

“Now… tell me that story you didn’t finish, how your love of art was born.”

“What?” you whimpered.

You didn’t think he was serious, he was overstimulating you.

“Do it. Now. I want to know,” he ordered roughly. “Tell me, now.”

You whimpered feeling every great change of vibration and movement in you. You didn’t think he meant it and could hold a conversation having you as a rag doll dangling in front of him.

“I tol-d you that my fa-father had a replica of a painting… by Norman Rockwell in his room… and…” it was hard to speak, between whines and sighs, combined with the guilty pleasure of the pain of not being able to move. “It was fun to look at it… I liked it.”

“Just that? I want more details. I feel you know everything about me; but what do I know about y/n?”

Hyunjin switched the stimulation mode to simulated thrusting motions. Your poor body writhed and contracted, you felt excitedly trapped with nothing you could do about it. You were agitated, excited, with your slightly watery eyes and your pussy getting wetter and wetter.

“Fuck” you whimpered and he smiled, “The painting was done by a friend of his…”

“What was his name?” Hyunjin loved playing with you, for an incredibly smart woman, the sexual pleasure was making you silly and he was barely into foreplay.

“Jack… Bahng… and my father noticed the admiration I suddenly had for paintings and took me to my first gallery when I was twelve in New York…”

Hyunjin thought the last name sounded familiar, but he played with you, interrupting you and increasing the intensity of the thrusts that tickled your cervix almost bringing you to orgasm. You squeezed your legs together, it was painful and pleasurable, you felt you couldn’t cum because the position was uncomfortable so you were building the intensity of your climax.

“Whose gallery was it?”

“John Currin, November 2015… mmm, fuck, Hyun-”

“Focus, honey, you’re telling me something? John Currin, doesn’t he also do nudes? I think you like a certain kind of art, you little slut.”

“Mmm…” you didn’t even know what you were talking about, you started to stammer breathlessly, “But… they’re exaggerated or funny paintings sometimes. I attended with my father, his friend and his son, his son is also an artist and he taught me how to paint and from there, from there it was…”

“Aw, you’re daddy’s little girl? Who is your daddy’s friend’s son? Was he the one you said between drinks was your first crush?”

So many questions that were suddenly so hard to answer; this time you didn’t, you were about to burst into your first orgasm, you could feel it, you bit your lip and rolled your eyes softly.

“Don’t you dare cum, I haven’t authorized you yet. Hold it” he spoke annoyed, “You have to answer what I ask you, don’t make me beat you and punish you with the fucking wooden paddle.”

“What?” you stammered, desperate, watching his expression, his smooth thick black eyebrows furrowed in anger.

“Who was the guy who taught you to paint?”

Shit. You wanted to cum already, you were at your peak that you accidentally cum whimpering his name, which Hyunjin disliked completely.

“Chris-Christopher Bahng, ahh.”

This time he was genuinely pissed off.

He turned off the vibrator while you thought you fell into a small release but you were still trapped with pain in your body.

Hyunjin walked towards you and grabbed you roughly by the face.

“I ordered you not to cum.”

That wasn’t what he was truly angry about, it was that you whimpered another man’s name while cumming and it was someone he knew well.

“Christopher Bahng?” he claimed to you in annoyance, releasing you from the hooks and holding you up to lay you down moderately roughly on the floor. “Isn’t he a professor at your university?”

You nodded, exhausted. Christopher had been your first innocent love but it was obvious he was someone older and you were a child, after fifteen you never saw him again and came back reconnecting with him as you remember him, looking the same and teaching art. In fact, he was one of the most important reasons why you attended those important art events, he would get you places, but you used to say it was college support, because in part, it was true. He was just so good to you.

“Use your words.”

You had fallen sideways, turning your back to him and you were giving up feeling your arms, you wanted to be untied already.

“Yes, he is, he’s my teacher now.”

“Unbelievable, you go from Rockwell to Nabokov. You like older men, don’t you?” he spat, taking his camera to photograph you from that angle, with your bare ass, your wet thighs, your numb white arms. “That’s why you’re here, seducing me. Do you know how old I am?”

His choice of words, his tone, he was playing with you. Hyunjin photographed you on the floor, one last time before inflicting physical pain, before leaving your ass red-purple and sore. It was so dirty and hot that you thought for a second that they could be interpreted as the pictures of a helpless victim.

“Yes, I know.”

“I’m older than you, I should have known better bringing in someone so young, sleeping with her seniors for fun. And how old is Chris now?”

“I don’t know… 33, 34.”

“And did you enjoy fucking your teacher, you fucking slut?” he whispered, putting his body over yours without crushing you, to then roughly pull the toy out of you causing you to moan, “Did he enjoy being reunited with his little girl?”

You turned your neck to look at Hyunjin, he was getting the wrong idea, he was breathing heavily against your skin.

“It’s not like that, nothing happened.”

“You know how much it infuriates me that you whimpered his name while you were cumming like a fucking whore, writhing for him, huh? You were thinking about him? When you’re supposed to be mine tonight.”

You were about to answer, but Hyunjin turned your body leaving you face down and began to spank your ass violently with his strong, heavy hand, making you scream and whimper.

“I’ll show you that you’re mine, fuck, I don’t just want you to be mine tonight, I want you to be mine forever” he babbled, giving you spank after spank.

Your body contracted at each stroke, your arms sought to move and you moved your legs but Hyujin held them tightly to stop you from resisting. Your cry and his hand hitting your skin were present in the room, you could even feel the firmness of his rings digging into your skin.

“Hy-Hyunjin!” you couldn’t with the pain that was uncontrollably arousing you, you felt sick, your buttocks were burning but your clit was throbbing again.

“You fucking like this, don’t you, little slut? You like being treated like what you are, huh?”

He stopped spanking you to play roughly with your pussy, penetrating your entrance and stroking your labia hard. You whined in pleasure, the pleasure seemed painfully eternal with Hyunjin. And minutes later, you cum on his fingers unable to resist. He couldn’t resist how swollen and juicy your cunt looked either, so in one swift movement, he settled his body to lick and revel in your juices. You were desperate, you wanted to move, you wanted to touch him, you wanted to see his handsome face as he ate your pussy but you were limited from so many things; still Hyunjin continued, running his hot thick tongue in your cunt.

“Mmmm, fuck baby, you’re—so fucking delicious, I can’t” he moaned, sucking on your labia and cumming slowly and painfully in his pants, unable to hold it in any longer.

He continued to make a series of movements in a rhythm that blurred your vision and brought you to orgasm after orgasm. You were exhausted, sore and hoarse. You had been used.

Hyunjin was hard again, ready to do one last thing before he untied you completely. You felt his mouth pull away from you and heard the sound of a belt buckle and zipper being pulled down. You knew it, you were just slightly recovering when you felt his hot wet tip rub against your puffy pussy lips. He settled your body so that you were supported on your knees; he kept teasing you with his hard member in you, which made him moan until he finally pushed his entire length into you.

New tears began to flow from you. Hyunjin was huge. He was tearing you apart, but his warm cock inside you filling absolutely everything made you feel so whole.

He held on to the ropes, as if he was riding, he began to fuck you and ram you hard, bumping skin against skin.

“Hyunji-n, Hyunjin” you whined his name.

The gasps from both of you filled the room; his cock pounded every part of your insides. His movements were fast, beastly and violent but they left you so satisfied that you came twice in the process and he still continued in you until in sensual moans, he finally filled you with his cum.

Hyunjin pulled out of you to appreciate your used entrance and, out of breath, began to quickly untie you. It was unbelievable, you had not used any safety words or begged for him to stop.

He knew he was rough and that had to untie you soon, otherwise, the ropes would leave more serious marks, of which serious marks, only your ass suffered, red and swollen with signs of bruising. And you had resisted every damn spanking of which he lost count and only hit you for his slight sadistic pleasure of feeling your soft skin being abused.

Finally, your arms could breathe, but you felt a tingling in them. You were just adjusting again when Hyunjin turned your body to see your flushed face covered in tears and light sweat on your forehead.

You groaned in pain as your bottom brushed the carpet. Hyunjin unfastened your rope and robe, leaving you naked and wearing only your stockings.

He began gently caressing your breasts and waist.

“A photograph is not enough to capture you, my dear. I need to immortalize you with my oil painting. I need to paint you. I think I’m in love.”

You watched his face, with your breathing and heartbeat agitated and altered and you also noticed his visible cock, veiny, wet, shiny, erect and big.

You blinked, feeling your eyelashes still wet. Wanting to believe he was serious. Wishing it. That he could be in love with you.

He leaned toward you, brushing his nose against yours and for the thousandth time in the night, he broke every one of his rules with a model:

“Kiss me.”

You joined your lips, his kiss soothed every physical ache in you and the sensation was just as you imagined, dreamy, velvet lips deft in their movement.

The kisses escalated to be more and more sizzling, his hands kept massaging your breasts and his lips started to slide down your neck, you were obsessed with Hyunjin’s lips, your weak arms found a way to caress his hair.

He slowly separated from you. Looking at you with his typical mischievous and tenderly wicked smile.

It was a night to remember, a night you body will remember, but you got the feeling that is was just the beginning.

𐙚TAGLIST: @rylea08 @hann1bee @iovecb97 @armystay89 @lolareadsimagines @lailac13 @ayyonoona @do-you-remember-summer-127 @wildtokay @korthbum @oddracha @hyune-sssne @velvetmoonlght @shadowhunterathene @compersian @binniesbabe @strayywayy @isabel-018 @paborachaslvt @tirena1

[saduko]

HARD TO MISS

Lando Norris x Driver!Reader 7.9K words

Summary: You had driven sick many times before, but never sick enough to retire from a race. Now Lando was worried about you and how the media was going to react. But maybe this was just about the best thing that could of happened to him. Or in which, reader gets sick during the Spanish GP race and has to face the looming media presence after retiring early with a newfound anger she's never experienced. She was a mess of emotions, acting so different, or maybe it wasn't just her being strange.

Teammates, established relationship, an unexpected surprise?? Note: this unfortunately is a re-upload because my dumbass literally deleted the post the first time I posted it despite it being up for days. Yes I'm mad, and no this isn't edited because of it.

The heat of the Spanish sun beat down on the track, the asphalt shimmering with a relentless intensity that seemed to seep through the cockpit. You gripped the steering wheel tighter, your knuckles whitening as you fought to keep your focus on the race ahead, hot, fast breaths heaving through your helmet like a symphony. The familiar roar of the engine, usually a comforting sound, felt more like a distant hum as yet another wave of nausea rolled through you.

This wasn’t the first time you’d raced under less-than-ideal conditions, but today felt different. The adrenaline that usually sharpened your senses now seemed to amplify the queasiness in your stomach, every bump and turn on the track making it harder to push the discomfort aside. You swallowed hard, trying to suppress the rising bile as you powered through another corner, the car responding to your every command despite the growing turmoil within.

The twisting and turning of the track seemed endless, each lap blurring into the next as your vision narrowed, tunnel-like, around the path ahead. You knew you needed to speak up, to let your team know something was wrong, but the words felt heavy on your tongue, weighted down by the fear of admitting weakness. Finally, you couldn’t hold it in any longer.

"I'm not feeling very well."

The twisting and turning of the track was making it hard for you to settle your stomach enough to find your voice, but when you had, there was a long silence on the other end. Ears alert with anticipation as nothing came through, before the thick accent of your engineer, Marlow finally sounded in with a panicked voice, "Are you feeling faint?"

"Not really.” You huffed. “I feel quite nauseous though. My stomach is not cooperating."

There was a short silence through your head piece before a shuffle was heard on the other side, followed by a concerned, "Should we retire the car?"

The suggestion shakes you and a quick puff of air leaves your mouth in order to hopefully settle the turning in your stomach, though you think it might have translated more as annoyance to your team despite the intention. You couldn't help but hope it hadn't come off too harshly, however the forceful tone of your next words certainly didn’t do much to calm the idea. "No! I'm not retiring the car... No, I'm okay."

"Please love, If you can't finish there's no shame in retiring. You're not letting anyone down, we understand-!" He knew how stubborn you were and he really didn't want the question to feel like the hit to the ego he knew you would take it as, but it was hard when everyone knew this race was what was separating you from top 3 and the rest in the championship. They knew it wouldn't be that easy, quickly corroborated by the frustrated grunt you let sound through the line.

Your foot braces against the accelerator, bearing down full force as you take the straight right after corner 4 at full speed, you weren't retiring. Subjective to your own harsh perception of yourself, retiring - no matter the circumstance - was one of the most culpable failures you could commit. It was never a rewarding feeling, and whether or not to retire from a race like this was an indisputable no. Six years into the sport and you had never retired from a race on your own accord. Today would not be the first.

"I'm okay for now."

There was no arguing with a driver going over 300 kilometers an hour, and so the team let your decision chart as they sat back and kept on with their roles, no different than before. Except for one thing, noting the conversation, they all made undisclosed motions to keep an extra close eye on the driver cam.

And so the race continued as 10 laps went by, 10 very shaky laps with countless immoderate wobbles, a few oversteers around a couple corners and a very close call with Carlos who made quick work of letting the communal radio know how exactly he felt about that, words that were quickly relayed to you. Though his accent was warm, his words were anything but kind and usually you would have taken it on the chin, laughed at his profanities and apologized with a quick witty comment to follow, but your team watched as you only let out a harrowing breath and shook your head. You obviously were not on your A-game and your entire team could see that.

So with all this, it came as no surprise when the silence in their headphones was abruptly interrupted with the blaring sound of your wheels against the track, followed by your voice, quick yet strained, echoing through the radio.

"I think I'm gonna be sick, guys."

With not a moment to spare, Marlows eyebrows furrowed down at your words, worry clear in his voice as he pressed down on the radio button. And though his words were mostly phrased as a question emphasizing the choice as your own, it was still hard to miss the pleading tone in his voice as he spoke loudly into the headpiece, "Are we retiring? It’s your call, love."

Your end of the radio was silent as the words rang through your headset, though not for lack of connection as the sound of your wheels barrelling against the tar never ceased. They knew you were still there, just not vocalizing your thoughts. They had no doubt this was a tough decision. A huge part of this sport was pride; pride in your team, pride in your car, pride in your abilities. And being the only woman on the grid meant your pride was strong and the backlash was inevitably more harsh when things went wrong. 

It was already hard enough for a driver to admit they needed to back out of a race, let alone for a driver who had something to prove and everything to lose. It was a decision they knew you were avoiding complying with. You had been complaining about feeling ill for days leading up to the race and yet insisted on racing regardless. They knew this was important to you, and to back out now, after making it so far already? Your heart was strong, and your head stronger. But for this one time, it seems your stomach was the strongest, and your nausea was taking the reins of this particular race. And so you bit your lip, hoping to keep the bile from rising for just a little while longer. “I need to stop. I’m retiring the car. I can't help it.”

As disappointing as ending a race early was, your team couldn’t deny the shred of relief that washed over them as you, for once, chose your health first. As fun as racing was, and as rewarding as a race in points felt, none of it was ever worth the increased risk to your safety. They would much rather you all woozy up in the medic bay with a DNF, than halfway to unconsciousness with a p8 finish. This certainly wasn’t your best race anyways, probably one the lowest you’d been in points this season. 

As you began your way around your last lap towards the pit lane, your mind raced with all the dreadful thoughts a DNF brought, the pit in your stomach rearing into a sizeable hole which would of left you feeling melancholy if the twisting and turning hadn’t trumped the discontent. 

As each second passed, you could feel whatever it was you had eaten for lunch earlier with Lando rising higher and higher. High enough in fact, that you found it necessary to press the radio button once more with a request. “Have a bag ready for me when I pull up, please.”

To which a compliant, “Copy.” sounded suit.

It wasn’t too much longer until your orange car could be seen sweeping down the pit lane, no hesitation in your steering as you made a harsh turn into your spot by the garage door. The pit team were prepared to make haste in their actions, ready to prop your car onto the jack in order to wheel it into the garage only to be stopped when two quick hands extended up as you braced yourself up against the halo and pulled yourself out of the seat.

At this point, you were hyper aware of the all the people surrounding you, as well as the multitude of cameras pointing directly at you, recording your every move for all the judgeful eyes to see, and yet you found not a single cell in yourself which cared as you leaned over the car and called out for your assistant, who quickly met you with a large black bin in tow. 

You quickly grabbed for it, pulling your front over the side of the car as far as you could in order to hide yourself from the view of the cameras. And out it came, a slurry of lunch which you had been so looking forward to at the time, and quickly regretting now as it all escaped your stomach.

What in the world had you feeling so ill in the first place? It felt like it had been lightyears since you had felt sick enough to actually puke, and god did you not miss this feeling. Had you eaten something bad earlier in the day? Maybe. But everything you ate Lando had eaten too, so wouldn’t he be sick as well? Well, it’s not really like you could ask him, you thought as you looked up just in time to see him overtake George on the big screen. He looks a little busy. And you should be busy too.

The thought seared through your mind as you spat into the bin, you should be racing too, but at least you feel a little better now that it’s come out; though not completely. Your stomach still churned a little and now your throat burned but you guessed it was better than crashing. You had already nearly done that just by being on the track a little too long and now you were definitely going to receive an earful from Sainz when he finally crossed the checkered flag and found you inevitably moping. 

However, you quickly realized that Carlos was actually the least of your worries and the only person you really had to fear was Lando, for when he heard about the outcome of your race, you were sure to face the lecture of your life. He had been warning you for days leading up to it not to participate. You were obviously unwell and he was aware of the dangers an unwell driver faced under the taxing conditions of a race but you were stubborn, insisting you would be fine. Look at you now. Head in a bin with cameras all around and a bruised ego. 

There was only a little time now until the race ended to recover before everyone came pummeling at you with questions. 

The wheel was starting to feel heavy in his hands and the rubbing of the HANS device against his neck was really starting to hurt. They were approaching the end stretch of the race and as the last 15 laps commenced, Lando couldn’t help but feel a little relieved knowing this would be over soon. This was undoubtedly a tough race. 

From lights out till now, he’d managed to pull from P5 to P4 and had every intention of passing Lewis for a podium position, soon enough he’d be in DRS range but for the time being, he was focused on catching up. The world around him had become mute, he hadn’t even looked up at the grand screen once, all he knew was the car.

So he had almost jumped in his seat when the chime sounded. Just as he began slowing around the final corner leading up to the line for his next lap, the sound of an incoming radio signal had his ears perking in anticipation. Were they planning on pitting him again? Sure he was definitely pushing a little too hard against his tires- not really doing his best at conserving them but he was so close to a podium position and he just needed a little bit more force-

“Lando mate,” Will’s voice sounded through his ears, his tone a little hesitant which left Lando biting his lip with anticipation. Please don't box. “I’ve just been informed by Marlow that y/n has retired.”

Lando's heart nearly fell into his stomach as the words registered in his brain. You retired?! Now thinking about it, you did start only a single position behind him and he hadn’t really seen all that much of you during the race. What happened? “Did she crash?!”

“No Lando, she's okay, it was voluntary. She wasn’t feeling well, I don’t think.” 

“You don’t think?”

“She’s okay Lando, just under the weather.”

Not feeling well? Under the weather? You’d raced a multitude of times before whilst under the weather. Each time he’d advise you not to race, and each time you’d ignore him, swearing up and down you’d be fine- and to Lando’s consolation each time you were fine. You’d come out the other side with a smile, no qualms or grievances and you would save your complaints for him afterwards, when no one else was around to judge. As you had done before, he expected the same this time. You’d never let a little ailment set you back, especially not let it affect you enough to retire. Not unless it really was bad.

Lando’s thoughts were soon interrupted by Will’s voice once more, his tone dismissive, implying the conversation had reached its end and no more discussion would be had about it. “We will contact you again if anything happens.”

And despite Lando’s dismay, he complies. There were still a good 15 laps left of the race ahead and he had a lot of catching up to do, a lot of competitive driving to be had. His focus couldn’t be elsewhere, but what was he supposed to do knowing his sick fiancé has just pulled herself out of a race? What was he supposed to do when he knew you well enough to understand how prideful you could be, and how poor you had to feel to choose to retire?  

He really tries to not let it bother him. During the next lap, he tries to not let it bother him as he forces himself to look anywhere else but the jumbo screen in hopes of a possible update on your condition. He tries to not let it bother him in the lap after that as the team radios in to discuss possible strategies regarding the oncoming overtake he will perform, and he tries to not let it bother him during the lap after that one when he finally passes Lewis. Now 3 laps have passed but he just can't get the questions about you off his mind. It is bothering him. He shouldn’t be distracted, especially while he’s in a podium position but he can’t help it. 

So as he crosses onto the next straight, he finds himself radioing in with the question that had been eating away at him since the news broke. “Uh.. Any updates on y/n? Is she alright?”

There's a considerable moment of silence on Mclaren’s end of the line, the team were honestly tied on what to tell the man and what not to. You weren’t exactly in optimal condition, and word around was slightly worrisome regarding your state. You were okay, but definitely not well, they knew because they had caught the treacherous sounds of your gags a few more times since the first echoing through the mclaren garage. 

As your fiance, he deserved to know these details, but as a driver, they knew it wasn’t smart to worry him. What were they to say as to not stress him out in an already extremely stressful situation? They could tell him a few of your team members were discussing taking you to the hospital. Or they could keep him from driving the car through the wall in order to meet you there. The decision was clear, they needed him to focus on driving. “She’s okay, she's currently being looked at by the medical team.”

“She has the medical team on her?!” Will’s eyes shut hard as Lando’s reply came through. Definitely not the right choice of words.

“Just a precaution Lando, she isn’t well at the moment.”

Lando’s bottom lip catches between his teeth as he ponders his engineer's words. He finds himself over analyzing every syllable, every infliction with intentions of unpacking whatever truth was seeping between the lines, and he notices that he’s biting his cheek as he rounds the 8th corner with a little less precision than usual. “Is she bad?”

Landos team take quick note of this change in pace, latching onto the clear oversteer he performs around the corner. They quickly find themselves trying to pull away from the topic in order to keep him both figuratively and literally on track and so Will concludes the conversation with a stern tone. “Please Lando, you can see her when you're done racing. We need you to focus on the race.”

He almost wanted to curse the man out purely due to frustration despite knowing deep down that he was right. But what else was he supposed to do when he knows his fiancé is sitting in the medic bay and all he can do to support her is… well, nothing. He just has to finish this race.

Despite your protests, your team was adamant on a visit to the med bay in order to possibly come up with a reason for your sudden onset of race ending symptoms, and after a quick trip down the hall that took a little longer than usual due to your need to stop once more, you were simply told there wasn’t much they could do long term to crack the bilous case. Shocker. They did however hand you something to ease the nausea which you were beyond thankful for.

You had spent so long counting down the seconds until the anti-nausea medication kicked in that you hadn't even noticed that the race had ended, nor did you notice the approaching sound of hasteful footsteps until the door to your driver's room came barrelling open with a thud.

“I told you not to race.” Lando’s voice was so stern it had you stiff. There was a slight indication of anger lingering behind his words but ultimately his face was a dead giveaway to the worried intention etched behind his tone. 

“I thought I’d be okay.”

“You threw up?” His eyebrows came down as he said it, and you noticed it was less of a question and more as if he was trying to confirm a suspicion. Someone from your team must have snitched on you already. No damn loyalties.

“Only a little.” Your words were sheepish.

“You stink.” He deadpanned and you found yourself scoffing, slightly exasperated at the bluntness of his words. The statement had you petty with offense. 

“You don’t smell very good either-”

“-I don’t smell like vomit.”

Finally you let out a sigh, already tired of the back and forth over something so menial, and unworthy of an argument. You were sick. Shit happens. “Lando, I wasn’t feeling well and I’d been feeling it all week with no real problem so I didn’t think there would be a reason to sit this race out. I didn’t think I would actually need to pull over. It’s done now.”

There was a loud silence between the two of you as he onced over your body with intentful eyes. You seemed okay enough and he guessed this really wasn’t the time or place to start an argument, especially over something as stupid as him being worried about you, you were on the same damn side. So instead he just sighed, bit his lip and nodded at you. “Alright.”

“Guys.” Charlotte suddenly peaked her head through the cracked door to glance at you both. “Come on, we need you at Media now.”

This wasn’t going to be easy, that you knew. The media had given you a hard time for things way less than this so you could only imagine what they had in store for you after throwing up on live TV for half the world to see moments after a voluntary DNF. It just about felt like you were being led to your execution with the way you knew they were about to tear into you. But there was no avoiding this, and the grimaced look etched into your features left Lando very aware of this fact.

“I know you don’t wanna do this but you have to go out there, you’ve got no choice. Not unless you’re willing to cop a fat fine.”

You stuck an eyebrow up at Landos voice, the sides of your lips extending out as you conceptualized his words but your expression quickly had him shaking his head alongside a hearty laugh. “No, no. Don’t even look like you’re considering it.”

Your laugh to match his own soon sounded throughout the room, and his hand swiftly found its place at the nape of your neck, to which he gave a quick squeeze and began leading you out the door into the McLaren garage hallway. “We have a wedding to plan and that means a lot of money to spend. You will not be wasting money trying to get out of media duties.” You couldn’t help but chuckle at how exasperated and sarcastic he sounded.

You both found yourselves trailing along Charlotte's path until the hallway quickly opened up into a large room where a few other drivers had already begun their own separate interviews towards the camera crews which littered every corner. The media pen; may as well be your death site.

Whilst waiting for the race to end; and for the nausea to subside, Charlotte had given you a rundown - more like a lecture; regarding what to expect and how to approach the inevitably condescending questions that would soon be thrown your way. 

This was going to be brutal, you knew that. You had finally made a mistake that the male media could exploit to reinforce their stereotypes about damned women in motorsports. Just another day facing the misogyny of the position, except this time, it was your own carelessness that put you in this position. The only damned thing you’d be was a damned liar if you said the upcoming articles tearing into you weren’t already gnawing at your mind. You could just picture it;

‘’Mclaren Princess’ Just Might Throw Her Way Up and Out of Competitive Driving,’

‘Speed Queen’s Weak Stomach Shows Why She’s Better Suited for Other Races,’

‘Too Glamorous For The F1 Track? or Maybe Not Glamorous Enough; - maybe we should leave the fast cars to the men that made them.’ 

This might just be worse than the ‘Revving Engines, not Emotions,’ article from last year when you teared up in Australia after what was the most frustrating race of your career. This was going to be horrible. 

Your actions were always hyper-criticized, but maybe just once you were being too imaginative for your own good. You needed to calm down because words tended to stick with you. A fact that Charlotte knew all too well, because she was sure to speak words she knew would ring through your ears during those interviews; Take it on the chin, stay composed and certainly don't be snappy. One of those was doable.

The moment you passed the threshold beyond the doorway, officially crossing into the media pen, it's as if every set of eyes and every lens of a camera had turned to watch you move. The room hadn’t by any means gone quiet, but there was definitely a shift in volume as the noise settled from a near unbearable buzz to a tolerable chatter, just enough to notice the change. The influx of attention almost had you doubling over once again, especially when you felt the nausea begin to slowly creep up for the second time that day. But you made notable efforts to keep your head high, hoping that a strong demeanor would at least soften the blow which would soon be dealt.

Lando’s arm had split from your neck not long after entering the room. You guys were always light on your PDA, trying to keep as much of your personal relationship as private as possible; as private as an already public relationship could possibly be. But he still managed to give you a small, reassuring squeeze on the hip before you both set off, being led in opposite directions.

A flurry of reporter eyes seemed to trail your path as your personal PR manager led you to a spot right in between Carlos and Charles, and as you started setting yourself up, you unavoidably overheard their journalists trying to wrap up their interviews, which you could only imagine would be to get a shot at you faster. 

However unluckily for those journalists, it seems your first adversary had already taken the stand just directly across from you with a large, heavy mic and aged, gleaming eyes; eyes that had your own widening in alarm. You were quite familiar with this journalist, very familiar with him actually as he had always been quick to criticize you and your skills on many occasions in the past. He was quite ill-mannered towards you, definitely holding a target out with a gun aimed directly for your career, making it clear he was disapproving of your presence as a woman on this grid. You just knew he had been waiting for you. This was going to be hell.

The journalist quickly began setting himself up, the cameraman behind him pointing the lens directly at your sour face, which you admittedly were not doing a great job at masking. Though, if your interviewer had noticed, he thankfully hadn’t commented on it. However that didn’t stop him from wasting any time beginning to comment on the other mistakes you had made today.

“Always a pleasure to speak with you, Speed Queen.” His gravelly voice spat. “Though I think ‘Pit Princess’ may be a little more fitting after today's race.” A sly smirk quickly spread across his mouth, an act that had your hands bracing against the railing separating the two of you from one another. Charles had quickly taken notice of this from his position just beside you. He admittedly felt he was doing quite well at remaining professional and ignoring the exchange between you and the infamous journalist, but now he was on high alert, ears perked in your direction with the intention of intervening at any given moment.

Despite your peeved sentiment, you did well at keeping your face straight and head high at the insult, feeling it necessary to not crack in front of the person trying to get a reaction out of you. Don’t prove his point. 

“I appreciate the creativity, but I think I would prefer to focus on the race itself rather than nicknames. I’m quite happy with the one I have.” There was a moment in which he tried to intervene, however you were determined to move past the subject. “-And, you know, today’s challenges were significant, but that’s a part of the sport, I guess.” Despite the lingering nausea, you still managed to force a professional smile.

“Is it?” He curled an eyebrow condescendingly, a look which nearly had a scowl slipping past your placid facade. But instead you held strong, that sickeningly sweet smile dripping like honey with disdain. “Part of the sport is the unpredictability of it. So I’d say so.”

The man's eyes gleamed on, a small hum escaping his lips as he nodded absently. “It’s just that no other driver seems to have this issue. Do you think maybe your choice to retire has to do with particular limitations a female might have that the men in this sport don’t?”

And as expected, the indirectness wasn’t so indirect anymore, the true misogynistic intentions of his words slowly crept out with ferocity. 

“No.” Your tone was final, like it hadn’t ever crossed your mind, because it really hadn’t. “No I really don’t. Many men before me have gotten sick during races, I guess I just preferred to voluntarily take myself out of the race than spend the rest of it wiping pesto off my visor.” You snarled. 

A small tap against your arm quickly alerted you to the contention of your PR manager, a disapproving gesture silently advising you to reel it in. But god was it hard when his face was so smug. She should understand that being passive aggressive was much more admissible than being violent, so she may as well let you get your anger out in the socially acceptable way, though you admit it was strange of you to feel so angry. You were usually better at keeping your emotions in check. Hm. But alas, you complied, correcting your face and letting him speak; even if you wanted so badly to interrupt him with your thoughts of how horrible a journalist he was. 

“Well, I think a lot of people agree when I say that this sport tends to reward determination and resilience, not quitting.”

Were you hearing this correctly? Was he really implying that you should have thrown up right into your helmet and just continued through the race like nothing? It was getting really hard to remain socially acceptable. What was this new found anger? “Racing may sometimes reward resilience, however, being sharp minded is more important sometimes. I noticed I was unwell enough for it to affect my performance, so I decided it was smarter to take myself out of the race. Especially after nearly taking Carlos out of the race too.” 

Just as you finished answering the (absurd) question, a suave laugh sounded to your left as Carlos suddenly stepped up beside you, sliding his arm across your shoulder. “I did have some choice words prepared for you earlier Mija, but then I learnt what happened and now I forgive you.” His eyes suddenly turned to the journalist, a glint of exaggerated pity in relation to the topic seeping into his expression, almost as if he was speaking with experience to someone who wouldn’t understand; because he was. “Driving whilst sick is not for the weak.”

The journalist's cold eyes squinted slightly as Carlos’ condescending tone registered in his head, yet he kept his expression neutral and mic high as he nodded. “I’m sure it isn’t.” And nothing was said after that. No rebuttal, no argumentative comment, just a plea of agreement. God, how you wished interviews were that easy for you.

A few voices echoing out from somewhere behind had caught the attention of the trio, and it didn’t take long for you to realize it was Carlos’ team instructing him to move onwards to his next position. So with a reassuring smile towards you and a quick quirk of a brow towards the reporter, he was off to his next interview without another word, taking your fleeting moment of security along with him as he left.

Now it was just you and the reporter once more, and you could tell he wasn’t feeling as cordial with you as he was with Carlos, evident by the slight snarl that had crept onto his face by the interruption in your defense. “Friendly words from Sainz there, as always.” he began, his tone dripping with insincerity, “Do you find it degrading that other drivers always have to come to your defense in order to keep your positive reputation, because there are a lot of people that believe you perhaps, ride off the success of others.” 

Your stomach twisted, and if it was from the nausea growing once again or from the sheer audacity of his words, you couldn’t tell. He was essentially implying that the only reason people liked you was because other likable people vouched for you, and not because of your own hard work and valiant achievements. It seems he wanted defense, you were about to show him just how defensive you could be. 

“With all due respect,” you began, voice calm but carrying an unmistakable edge, “I don’t defend myself because I don’t have to, because the genuinity of my character extends far past my words.” you paused, thinking about your next words carefully. “My peers defend me because I’ve proven my capabilities time and time again, and they know that one incident doesn’t define my career. However, I don’t think you share the same sentiment, hm?” 

The taunting in your voice was quickly caught on by your PR manager who swiftly grabbed your arm in yet another warning, except this time you couldn’t find it in yourself to care as much. The journalist's eyes narrowed at your words, clearly not expecting such a discourteous response and the tugging of your PR manager's grip against your arm was an obvious nonverbal message to wrap it up but you weren't finished, oh no. That new found anger that had been gnawing at you all race was just beginning to trickle out.

“‘Riding off the success of others.’” Your quoted, voice riddled with humor, “And yet you somehow manage to find me every post race interview. Do you write these question’s down in your little notebook while you watch my multi-race winning car fly past you? Or do you wipe the dust from the camera lens instead?”

He quickly opened his mouth to retort, but before he could, your PR manager intervened, her grip on your arm tightening slightly as she stepped forward. “This interview is over,” she announced firmly, her voice leaving no room for argument. “McLaren will be utalizing the next few days to help Y/n recover for next week's race. If you have any further questions, you can direct them to our media office.”

Your eyes widened in shock at the intervention. You had overstepped your media training a few times before and yet none had ever led to the end of the interview. You’d be lying if you said you weren’t a little surprised at your PR manager's swift movements as she tugged you back and away from the journalist. “Let’s move on.” Her voice was disapproving but she was obviously trying to remain calm and professional, understanding there was a job to be done. But your anger wasn’t discriminatory, everyone was a potential outlet, and you weren’t having this. “No, I’m finished.” You didn’t even want to participate in media in the first place, this was obligatory. You had done your part and now you were taking charge of the rest of your night. And so you pulled your arm back and made quick haste towards the exit, leading back to your driver room. 

You were only a few meters from the door now, acutely aware of all the eyes watching you retire early from yet another obligation today, when a hand grazing the small of your back pulled you away from the tormenting feeling of the bile rising once again. This time, it was Charles, his sweet face beaming a reassuring smile at you as he began walking in stride towards the exit alongside you. “Mon cheri, that was something else.” 

You couldn’t help but scoff at his words, nausea bubbling once again, expecting yet another lecture from someone else. “If by ‘something else’ you mean a complete disaster, then yeah, I guess.”

Charles kept his tone steady, a touch of amusement in his voice as you both walked in stride. “No, I mean you handled it with a lot of, uhh.. What is the English? Poise.” 

You gave him a skeptical look. “Thanks, but it didn’t feel like handling things with poise, It felt like I was about to lose it.” 

His smile slipped into a small laugh before it fell,  and his bright eyes quickly turned into one’s of worry as he began a once over of your body. “Are you feeling okay?” he began the inevitable conversation. “I’m okay, it’ll pass I'm sure.”

Charles’ brows furrowed down, thick accent sounding with worry as he spoke. “You shouldn’t count on it passing, you should take care of yourself. You’re only gonna have more shit thrown at you if you don’t-”

As sweet as his concern was, you were tired of this conversation today, it was becoming tedious to hear and you really just needed to lie down or something. “-Charles, I really appreciate it and I'll be sure to visit the doctor tomorrow, but I think I’m gonna be sick again, so how about you cover me up to the hallway before I end up in another fight with a reporter, or my head in another bin on TV.”

Your words had Charles’s eyes widening, quickly glancing around from side to side in search of his target who was finishing up from an interview of his own, when your hand came up to press against your mouth, skin turning a tinge green. “Lando!”

The video shook a little as the person on the other end fidgeted with the camera, a slight blur shifting the image and the audio cracking with the movement before the frame finally straightened up. The person took a step back. It was you, which wasn’t all that surprising considering the video had been uploaded onto your own instagram, but it was the first anyone had really heard of you in weeks. 

Ever since your race ending ailment back in Spain, you had essentially gone radio silent. Not posting, not participating in interviews; you had missed 2 more races since then. It was worrisome, especially considering you had assured everyone the day after Spain that you were working on getting better for next week's race, which you never showed up to. 

The races went on and the fans asked about you, the interviewers asked about you too, but it seemed everyone involved in the FIA had no comment on your whereabouts nor your condition. The drivers dodged post interview questions, excelling on to new subjects and only had quick fleeting comments in response to concerned fans around the paddock who were only trying to make sense of it all.

Lando copped the brunt end of it though, scoring a P2 podium in Canada that everyone could more obviously care less about in his post-race interviews. The only topic mentioned was you, your absence from the race and why everyone was so hush-hush about it in the first place. The interviews were so off topic that this time it was Lando who had to leave the media pen early to avoid the questions, though opposingly, McLaren had been the ones to encourage his swift exit.

It was starting to become an issue. People were fretful. Were you still sick? Was it something more serious than you had anticipated and now you couldn’t race anymore?

The view they were looking at suggested that perhaps they were about to find out. 

You retreated away from the camera propped up against what people could only speculate had to be your dressing table, as you found your spot upon the large, luxurious bed the camera was pointing towards. Now cross legged upon it, your body clad in a 2 piece short silky pajama set, finally you began to speak. 

“Hello everyone.” You didn’t sound unwell, not stressed or upset. In fact, there was an edge to your voice that almost seemed cheerful; excited. And yet for now you remained composed, nothing but a small, media trained smile dawning your otherwise expressionless face.

“It’s been a while, hasn’t it?” The sentence was humorous, calling attention to the silence you had afflicted, and the lack of news upon your whereabouts. “Lando and I are finally home in Monaco for summer break, though I have to admit that I’ve actually been in Monaco for a few weeks now. I think some of you might feel that was a bit obvious given my absence.”

There was a high pitched chuckle off screen, it obviously being Lando out of frame as your eyes flickered over to the side with a playful yet mischievous smile, encouraging his reaction with your expression. It was a fleeting moment as your smile once again fell into something a little more vacant before straightening up and continuing. “I know a lot of people have questions, and I do want to apologize for the lack of communication on my end, I’ll explain, I promise but first I also want to say please don’t be mad at any of the other drivers for not speaking out, they were all just respecting my wishes in not saying anything until I was ready.”

There was a small pause as you took a breath, no sound emitting except for the slight breeze wafting through the room, further exemplified by the sway of the sheer curtains. This was so nerve racking, were you about to announce your departure from motorsport? Were you about to reveal a sickness you weren't aware of until now? The silence, though short lived, was deafening. 

“I-” Finally you spoke, but quickly caught it with a bite to your lower lip. It really seemed like you were processing your words, debating how to present your next statement carefully enough. “How do I-?”

Once again your gaze drifted off to the side of the screen, confused and cautious eyes quickly averting into a bright smile before a laugh escaped your mouth. “Don’t look so excited!” 

Lando, obviously beaming, clear by the tone of his voice, cheerfully yelled back, “Do you want me to say it?!”

“No!” you rebutted quickly with a laugh, “I told you I wanted to be the one to announce it, stop trying to take my shine!”

“Then go on with it!” He was so obviously really excited, impatient to finally announce whatever it was that had him so elevated.

“Okay well-” You stuttered for a moment, quickly catching yourself before continuing. “As many of you saw in Spain, I wasn’t feeling too well,-”

“-Hard to miss-.” Landos voice mumbled, a comment in which you swiftly ignored.  

“-And I hadn’t been for a few days leading up to it but I just took it as a stomach bug and planned to go on with it like usual. What I didn’t plan for however, was the doctor's visit I was forced to go to the day after.”

Your eyes glared off to the side once again, feigning annoyance but evidently not actually upset before looking back at the camera with a smile. “The good news is that we are very much aware of what was making me sick.” Your voice was reassuring, eyes slowly beginning to light up as you continued on. “The bad news is that I unfortunately will not be participating in the rest of the 2024 season, or the 2025 one for that matter.”

It was like you could feel the impending shock of everyone watching radiating through the screen despite it being pre recorded because your pause was almost comically dramatic. And yet it was so wholly conflicting, because regardless of the awful news, you didn’t really seem all that upset despite being such a passionate racer, it felt so out of character. This confusion was only exemplified further when your eyes once again drifted to the left, a large smile engulfing your features as you took notice of what had to be Lando's excited expression once more. “Oh don’t look so happy, you’re the one who still gets to race!”

“I’m sorry!” He laughed that high pitched laugh he does when he just can’t hold it back.

Your eyes flickered back to the camera, sitting straight on with a patient yet humorous smile, a single eyebrow cocked as you waited for Landos laughter to simmer. It took a moment, a moment you thought ended a time or two before he began again, but eventually the room became still again as your face grew just a little more in adoration towards the man everyone could see you loved dearly. It was like the energy had shifted just a little, from what felt so playful before, to something a little more familial and warm. 

“I think some of you may have put the pieces together, but for those who haven’t. Well… I’m pregnant!” Your smile was so big and sheepish, so conscious and just a little shy, it almost felt as if you were announcing it to a friend of many years and it was all just so heartwarming. You were okay! More than that, you were happy, and soon everyone else who would watch this video would be too. Lando's happy laugh from beyond the camera at the announcement finally being made was more than enough to express just how joyous the news was for the two of you.

“As heartbreaking as it will be to not be able to competitively race in the upcoming seasons, I’m not actually that sad about having to step down for a little.” You laughed heartily. “I proudly announce that in my place, the very talented Australian driver Oscar Piastri will be filling my position until I'm off from… maternity leave? I guess. That's a first for this sport.”  You laughed.  “But of course they just had to find the best to replace the best.” You quickly glanced over towards Lando out of frame, clearly expecting an agreement that never came. They could only imagine the disapproving look Lando was sending you.

Your expression never changed, but your tone dropped as you spoke darkly. “I’m carrying your child.” You spat, to which a loud “But of course!” sounded in response, followed by a laugh from the both of you.

“Don’t worry, you’ll still be seeing me around the track a lot considering this muppet,” you pointed to your left, “still gets to race.”

“Don’t be jealous,” the soft voice came from off screen. 

“No, I’ll confidently admit it, I’m so jealous.” You pouted, but the warmth in your eyes belied the playful tone in your voice.

Lando’s hand appeared in the frame for a brief moment, gently squeezing your shoulder before disappearing off-camera again. “We’ll be back out there together soon enough.”

You nodded, your smile returning as you glanced back at the camera, feeling a surge of excitement for what was to come. “In the meantime, I’m looking forward to supporting the team from a different angle. It’s going to be a new experience, but I’m excited to do this as…”

“-As a mother?” Lando finished with a knowing smirk.

“As a mother.” You laughed, a loud one from Lando soon sounded to match your own, one so joyous it left you beaming. Suddenly, Lando jolted in frame, clearly excited as he leaned over the bed to tackle you from your sitting position down into a hug, leaving you both falling back onto the sheets. “Oh my god Lando!” You shout, a hand quickly moving to shield your lower stomach. “God! Nevermind guys, I think Lando just tackled the baby out of me, guess I’ll be seeing you all from my McLaren in Austria.”

“Oh!” Lando gasped. “Not funny!” 

[shybluebirdninja]

Driver's Seat

Summary: With no cash to pay your Uber driver, Logan, you boldly offer a blowjob instead.

Pairing           : Uber-driver!Logan Howlett x Fem!Reader Note              : smut, blowjob

The city lights flashed by as the Uber rolled down the streets, the low rumble of the engine mingling with the late-night tunes spilling from the speakers. You were sinking into the plush leather seat, a mix of exhaustion and exhilaration coursing through you after a wild night out. You glanced over at the driver, Logan, his rugged silhouette framed by the glow of the dashboard. His grey, tousled hair and scruff hinted at a man who had seen it all, a hint of mischief lurking behind those intense blue eyes.

You pulled out your wallet, ready to settle up, but a sinking feeling hit you hard. You flipped through the empty slots, fingers trembling slightly. “Shit,” you muttered, realizing your cash was nowhere to be found. The only thing left was a couple of crumpled receipts. Panic bubbled up inside you, and you bit your lip, glancing up at Logan.

“Uh, so… about the fare…” you started, your cheeks heating up.

Logan raised an eyebrow, the corner of his mouth quirking up in that oh-so-sarcastic way of his. “You forgot your cash, huh? Classic move.”

You groaned, running a hand through your hair. “Yeah, well, I had a little too much fun tonight. I wasn’t exactly planning to be broke. Sir.”

He chuckled, the sound deep and rumbling, sending a shiver down your spine. “Welcome to my world, doll. So what now? You gonna sit there and look cute while I take you home for free?”

The playful glint in his eye made your heart race, and a sudden, crazy idea popped into your head. It was reckless and wild, but what the hell. You leaned forward, a smirk creeping onto your lips. “What if I have a different way to pay you?”

Logan turned to you, a mixture of amusement and intrigue flickering in his gaze. “I’m listening.”

With a deep breath, you decided to throw caution to the wind. “How about… a little favor? Something a bit more… intimate?”

His expression shifted, a low growl escaping his throat as he pulled the car over to the side of the road, the sudden halt making your heart race even faster. You could feel the air thickening with tension, every second stretching out as you met his gaze.

“Intimate, huh? You sure you can handle that?” He leaned back in his seat, crossing his arms over his muscular chest, and the way he looked at you sent a wave of heat through your body.

“Oh, I think I can manage,” you replied, your voice sultry and daring. You leaned closer, the scent of leather and something distinctly Logan—woodsy, musky—invading your senses.

He didn’t move, just watched you, his blue eyes darkening with a mixture of interest and something deeper, something primal.

“Okay, then. Let’s see what you got”, while he shifted to the backseat.

With the adrenaline pumping, the car suddenly feeling way too small as you settled in close to him. “Sir, I promise you won’t regret this,” you murmured, your voice barely above a whisper.

“Damn straight I won’t,” he replied, his tone low and gravelly, making your skin tingle.

You felt your heart pounding, the tension sizzling between you. Slowly, you let your fingers trail down his chest, feeling the warmth radiating from him. The fabric of his shirt felt rough against your fingertips, and the muscles beneath were solid and inviting. Logan’s breath hitched, and you could see his restraint slipping away, the predatory glint in his eyes igniting a fire in your belly.

“Now, I want you to take your time,” he said, his voice a growl that sent shivers down your spine. “I’m not goin’ anywhere.”

Leaning in closer, you could see the flecks of his thick grey hair, the way his grey stubble caught the light. You ran your fingers through his grey hair, feeling the rough texture.

As you lowered your lips to his neck, you could taste the salty taste of his skin, a mix of sweat and something distinctly him. He inhaled sharply, a low rumble of pleasure escaping him. “Goddamn, that feels good,” he muttered, his hands gripping your waist as if holding onto a lifeline.

“Just wait,” you replied, your breath hot against his skin. You kissed your way down to his collarbone, each press of your lips making him tense and moan softly, that sound driving you wild. You could feel him responding to you, the way his body was coiling with anticipation.

“Damn, you really are somethin’ else,” he breathed, a hint of awe in his voice that made you smile.

“Yeah? Just wait till you see what else I can do,” you teased, your hands roaming over his muscular arms, the power underneath making your heart race even faster.

With a swift motion, you slid down, kneeling between his legs. Logan’s breath caught in his throat as you looked up at him, the intensity of his gaze sending shivers through your body. You could see the wildness in his eyes, a hunger that mirrored your own.

A low growl rumbling in his chest as you slowly reached for the zipper of his black pants, teasingly pulling it down. You could see the tension coiling in him, his muscles tightening, and you couldn’t help but smirk at the power you held in this moment.

As you revealed him, the sight made your mouth water. Logan was everything you had imagined—a lot of grey hair on his balls, his tip red, thick, hard, and ready for you. You leaned in closer, the scent of him overwhelming your senses. You could taste the salt on your lips, and it drove you wild with desire.

“Damn,” he whispered, his voice rough with need. “You really know how to get a guy’s attention.”

“Just wait,” you teased again, taking your time as you let your tongue flick out to taste him, feeling his sharp intake of breath. He was salty, a flavor that was uniquely him, and you couldn’t get enough.

The heat radiating from his body making you feel alive.

“Don’t waste it,” he urged, his voice thick with lust.

With a wicked grin, you dove in deeper, your mouth enveloping him, swirling your tongue around his tip and savoring every moment. Logan’s hands tangled in your hair, his grip firm yet gentle as he guided you, urging you on. The sounds he made were music to your ears, a deep growl of pleasure that reverberated in your bones, fueling your desire.

“Just like that, sweetheart,” he rasped, his voice thick with need. “Keep going.”

You could feel his body responding to you, the way his hips bucked slightly, seeking more, his grey hair brush your face, his balls slapping your face. The world outside faded away as you focused on him, every flick of your tongue drawing more of those delicious sounds from him.

“Fuck, you’re incredible,” he groaned, and the compliment sent a rush of pride through you. You could feel him tightening, his breathing growing erratic, and you knew he was close.

“God, I’m gonna lose it if you keep that up,” he warned, his voice gravelly and deep. “You might wanna pull back a bit.”

“Not a chance,” you replied with a smirk, leaning in again. You swirled your tongue around him, feeling his body react beneath your touch. Every sound he made, every involuntary twitch of his muscles, only pushed you further into this delicious frenzy of desire.

“Fuck,” he growled, the tension in the air becoming almost unbearable. You could feel him getting closer, and the thrill of knowing you had him right where you wanted only fueled your own hunger.

His hands tightened in your hair, a low warning rumbling from his chest. “You keep that up, I’m gonna—” His words cut off as you took him deeper, your mouth moving faster, and the sound of his breathy gasps filled the car.

You could see the struggle on his face, the way he was fighting against the edge, but you weren’t having any of it. You wanted him to lose control.

The way his hips instinctively moved against your mouth told you he was more than ready to give in. You pulled back just enough to tease him, your lips just barely grazing the tip of him as you looked up into his eyes.

He cursed under his breath, the sound raw and hungry. “You’re trouble, you know that?”

“Yeah, but you love it,” you shot back, the playful challenge hanging in the air.

“Hell yeah, I do,” he admitted, his voice rough, eyes burning with desire. “You’re a damn goddess.”

With that, you dove back in, taking him fully into your mouth and hollowing your cheeks, swirling your tongue around him as you felt him hit the back of your throat. Logan’s body went taut, every muscle coiling with tension as he groaned loudly, and the sound sent a thrill through you.

“Fuck, yes,” he gasped, and you could feel his breathing quickening, every thrust of his hips urging you on.

With a fierce growl, he finally surrendered, his body arching as he released himself deep into your mouth. You felt the warmth of him filling you, the salty taste overwhelming your senses as you drank him down, every pulse sending shockwaves through your body.

“Damn, that’s it,” he panted, his voice raw and heavy with pleasure. “You’re incredible.”

As the last waves of pleasure coursed through him, you slowly pulled back, savoring the taste and feeling a rush of triumph wash over you. Logan looked down at you, eyes dark with satisfaction, the tension finally breaking as he leaned back against the seat, chest heaving.

“Who knew you could be such a badass?” he said, a hint of admiration lacing his tone.

You laughed softly, wiping your lips with the back of your hand. “What can I say? I’ve got a knack for making payments.”

He shook his head, a smirk spreading across his lips. “You’re one of a kind, you know that?”

[lxndonorris]

home race - Oscar Piastri

Y/N x Oscar Piastri Theme: Smut (you've been warned) you're in a long-distance relationship with Oscar and surprise him at his "home race" x word count: 3250+ taglist: @game-set-canet open for requests :) EN: Another big piece and I hope you'll like it. My first time writing Oscar.

You sat in your living room, staring at your phone. The screen displayed a countdown timer you set months ago when you and Oscar, your boyfriend, decided you could handle a long-distance relationship.

Living in the United States while dating a Formula 1 driver based in Europe wasn't easy, but the two of you made it work. You spoke every day, sent each other thoughtful gifts, and cherished the moments you could spend together in person.

The countdown finally hit zero. It is time for your big surprise.

Oscar is in Monaco for the Grand Prix, and you planned to surprise him for months since the season started. You told him you wouldn't be able to make it due to work commitments, but in reality, you managed to arrange everything perfectly, with a little help from the Mclaren Team.

You had your flights booked, your accommodation sorted, and a special pass that would allow you into the Mclaren motorhome, where Oscar would eventually be.

When you boarded your flight, you felt a mixture of excitement and nerves. You knew how much this surprise would mean to Oscar. The past few months have been challenging for him, dealing with the pressures of being a professional F! driver while missing you. You wanted to make this moment unforgettable.

After a long flight and a quick check-in at your hotel in Monaco, you head straight to the racetrack. You are wearing a Mclaren team hoodie, jeans, and a fitting cap, blending in with the team. You find your way to the motorhome and, with the help of a team member who is in on the surprise, get inside and wait for Oscar.

The atmosphere in Monaco is electric. The sun shines brightly over the azure waters of the Mediterranean, and the roar of engines echoes through the narrow streets of the city. The Monaco Grand Prix is one of the most prestigious races on the calendar, and the excitement is palpable.

The qualifying session just ends, and he pushes his car to the limit and secures second place on the grid. The team is ecstatic, and Oscar feels a rush of adrenaline as he climbs out of the car, waving to the cheering fans. 

Inside the motorhome, your heart races as you finally hear footsteps approaching. The door opens, and you turn around to see Oscar standing there, a look of shock and disbelief on his face.

"Y/N? Is that really you?" Oscar's voice trembles with emotion.

You smile, your eyes filling with tears.

"Surprise!"

Oscar closes the distance between you in an instant, wrapping you in a tight embrace. He buries his face in her hair, inhaling your familiar scent, and holds you as if he never wants to let go.

At the same time, the faint scent of him swirls around you, and with a deep breath, you take it in, closing your eyes for a second to relish in this moment.

"What are you doing here?" He murmurs, his voice choked with emotion. "I can't believe you're here."

"I wanted to be here for you, at your home race." You say softly. "I've missed you so much, Oscar Piastri Leclerc."

Both of you pull back slightly to look at each other, your eyes meeting with an intensity that speaks volumes. Oscar cups your face in his hands, his thumbs gently brushing away the tears that escape down your cheeks.

"I've missed you too, Y/N. More than you can imagine."

You kiss—a tender and passionate kiss that seems to make up for all the time you spent apart. 

When you finally break apart, Oscar can't stop smiling.

"You look amazing in that Mclaren gear," he says, his eyes roaming all over you as they sparkle with admiration.

You chuckle, feeling a warmth spread through you. "I have to show my support for my favorite driver."

As you stand facing each other, the air between you seems to be charged with electricity. You feel the tension and excitement from qualifying still radiating off Oscar. 

Tentatively, you reach out, letting your hand run across his firm chest, feeling the steady rhythm of his heaving chest beneath your fingertips. His whole body is slightly tensed, still buzzing from the adrenaline rush.

Oscar's eyes soften as he looks at you, a smile spreading across his lips.

"It's so good to see you," he murmurs, his voice filled with awe.

You smile back, your gaze drifting over his racing suit. "You look so good in that green and yellow racing suit, Oscar. Really, you do. It suits you perfectly."

The special suit, designed to honor Senna, clings to his frame in all the right ways, accentuating his athletic build. The vibrant colors contrast beautifully with his complexion, making him look every bit the star he is.

Oscar chuckles, a hint of pride in his eyes. "Thanks. I didn't think I could pull off these colors, but hearing it from you makes me believe it."

Your fingers linger on his chest, feeling the rise and fall of his breath. "I missed you so much," you whisper, your voice thick with emotion. 

As your hand continues to stroke his chest, you feel Oscar's hands move to your waist, his fingers lightly gripping the fabric of your jeans. He pulls you slightly closer; your bodies now mere inches apart. The intensity of his gaze makes your heart flutter.

"Do you have some free time?" You ask, your voice soft and teasing, eyes glimmering with anticipation.

Oscar smirks, a playful glint in his eyes. "For you? Always."

The corner of your mouth lifts in a smile, your hand moving up to his shoulder. "Good." You breathe deeply, feeling the tension between you increase even more. "Because I've been waiting for this moment for a long time."

Unable to resist any longer, you lean in and kiss him passionately. The moment your lips meet, Oscar melts into the kiss, his arms tightening around your waist. The warmth and familiarity of the embrace make everything else disappear, leaving just the two of you in your own private world.

As the kiss deepens, you steady yourself against his firm chest, feeling the rapid beat of his heart beneath your palm. His hum of approval sends a thrill through you, and you take your time, savoring the moment, relishing the closeness you missed for far too long.

With a teasing glint in your eye, you reach for the zipper of his racing suit. Slowly, you begin to unzip it, feeling the resistance of the fabric give way. Oscar's breath hitches as you draw the zipper down to his tummy, exposing his tight black fireproofs beneath.

You let your hands slip inside, and stroke his chest. "You look so good," you murmur, your hands resting on the exposed fabric. The smooth, taut material hugs his body, accentuating his toned muscles.

Oscar's eyes darken with desire as he looks at your hands running across his chest, a mixture of amusement and longing playing on his features. "You're making it very hard to concentrate," he says, his voice low and husky.

You chuckle softly, your fingers tracing patterns on his fireproofs. "Good," you whisper, leaning in for another kiss. 

This time, it is slower, more deliberate; each touch and caress a reminder of the desire crackling between you.

As your kisses grow more intense, you feel the heat rising between your bodies. Oscar's hands roam over your back, pulling you even closer, as if he can't bear to let you go.

With your hands still roaming over his chest, you draw a line down to his abs, feeling the firm muscles beneath your fingertips. Each touch elicits several low growls from deep inside his throat, the sound sending shivers down your spine. As you continue your exploration, Oscar leans his head back, his eyes closing as he savors the sensation.

You decide to take things a step further. 

"Let me help you." You breathe deeply, gently pushing the upper half of his suit off his shoulders. 

Oscar obliges, his breath hitching as you peel the fabric away, revealing more of his muscular torso. The sleeves hang down from his waist, the tight fireproofs beneath barely able to contain the immense tension building inside him.

His muscles bulge with each movement, with each breath he takes, the strain and excitement of the day evident in every contour of his body. You can't help but admire him, your hands now tracing the lines of his arms, feeling the strength beneath his skin.

Oscar opens his eyes and looks at you, his gaze filled with desire and affection. "You're driving me crazy," he growls, his voice rough with need.

You smile with a playful glint in your eye. "Flex for me." You reply, your fingers continuing their journey across his entire upper body.

With a mischievous grin, Oscar obliges again, flexing his arms and chest, showcasing the impressive muscles that have been honed through countless hours of training. The sight makes your heart skip a beat; a rush of admiration and desire floods through you.

"Like what you see?" he teases, his eyes sparkling with mischief.

You bite your lip, trying to keep your composure as you let your hands roam over his flexed muscles. "You have no idea," you reply, your voice filled with genuine awe.

He chuckles, the sound low and rumbling from deep inside his chest. "I'm just glad you're here to see it."

One of your hands traces the contours of his biceps, feeling the power and strength beneath your fingers, while you let your other hand roam freely across his chest and even further down to his crotch.

You feel his hunger building up inside his pants; the fabric bulges just along his member tenting visibly. With two fingers, you trace the tangible outlines of his lust again and again, eliciting more and more deep growls from his throat.

Oscar is thoroughly enjoying himself, responding to your teasing with a mixture of laughter and passion. You see the gleam in his eyes, the way he savors every touch and caress. 

Then, with a bold move, you slip one of your hands underneath his fireproofs, feeling the intense heat of his skin radiating against your palm.

Oscar's breath hitches at the sensation, his eyes so dark with desire. With a swift motion, he swipes the Mclaren cap from your head and lets it drop to the floor. A playful chuckle escapes his lips as he leans in, capturing your mouth in a deep, fervent kiss.

The kiss is electric, filled with a hunger that threatens to consume you both—the long separation and the yearning that built up between you. Your fingers splay across his warm skin, feeling the hard lines of his muscles beneath your fingertips. 

Oscar's hands roam over your back again, pulling you closer, before he takes the lead, guiding you through the room and across a huge empty wall. Gently, your back meets the wall, steadying the two of you fully. 

You feel the rhythm of his heartbeat, fast and powerful, matching your own. The world around you seems to fade away, leaving just the two of you locked in your passionate embrace.

His hands are now all over your chest, his touch both soft and possessive. Each caress sends waves of electricity through you, making your pulse race as far as his race car.

Oscar's kisses trail down your neck, leaving a warm, tingling sensation in their wake. His lips are gentle yet insistent, making a path that sets your skin on fire. The sensation is almost overwhelming—a perfect blend of tenderness and desire that makes your heart swell with emotion.

Amidst your intimate moment, you take in Oscar's familiar scent, a comforting aroma that envelopes you in a sense of security and belonging—a mixture of his cologne, mingled with the faint trace of adrenaline from the day's events, and the subtle hint of his natural scent.

Breathing him in, you feel a wave of warmth wash over you, and his scent is like a familiar embrace, making it even harder to concentrate.

Now, his hands slide underneath your hoodie, his fingertips dancing across your skin. You shiver at the sensation, your body responding instinctively to his touch. The contrast of his warm hands against the cool evening air heightens your senses, making every touch feel even more intense.

"You're amazing." Oscar breathes against your neck, his voice rough with emotion. "I need you."

Your breath hitches, your hands grip his shoulders for support as you tilt your head back, giving him better access. "Oscar," you whisper, your voice trembling with a mixture of desire and affection.

His hands roam freely now, exploring every inch of your torso with a reverent touch. You feel the strength and control in his fingers, the way he holds you as if you were the most precious thing in the world.

You arch into his touch, your own hands exploring the hard planes of his back, feeling the tension in his muscles. The fabric of his fireproofs is smooth and cool against your palms, a stark contrast to the heat radiating from his body.

"Oscar." You murmur again, your voice barely audible as you revel in the sensations he is creating. "I need you, too."

He lifts his head, his eyes locking onto yours with an intensity that takes your breath away.

"I'm right here," he replies, his voice steady yet husky.

Licking your lips in anticipation, you let out a long, exhausted sigh. At the same time, you feel one of his hands make its way down your chest and right to your jeans. In one swift motion, he unbuttons it, just to make way for his hand to slip inside.

Your breath hitches right away as you feel his fingers tracing patterns in all the right places.

Even though it's hard to keep your composure, you manage to return the favor, letting one of your hands run down his back, along his spine, around his waist, and between his legs.

As you touch him, Oscar lets out a low, primal groan, the culmination of all the teasing and desire building up between them. His response sends a thrill through you, igniting a fire that burns hotter with each passing moment.

The tension is palpable; both of you are aching for a release, craving the other's touch.

Together, you help each other undress just enough to make it work. Panting and growling, he tugs at your jeans until they are sliding down to your ankles, so his hands stroke your thighs delicately.

Then, it's your turn to help him. Pulling at the suit clinging to his skin, the two of you manage to pull his length out of his pants, just for you to hold it and play with it.

Exhausted, Oscar leans in, kissing you passionately. You melt into him, offering yourself for what's to come next.

The moment he slides inside your body, it sparks a tingling sensation inside your stomach, and you let out a low grunt. Simultaneously, he moans right into your mouth, making it even harder to keep a straight face.

He is the first to take the lead again.

With your back against the wall, he begins to grind his hips against yours, rhythmically, sensually, and it is easy for you to catch up. The two of you move in sync with one another, letting out low growls, moans, and grunts.

Your hands wander all over his chest, stroking him through his firerpoofs. Oscar's breath comes in ragged gasps, his eyes dark with desire as he watches you. 

The sensation of your touch through the fabric sends waves of heat through him, encouraging him to increase the pace and strength of his thrusts. In return, he steadies himself against the wall behind you while his other hand lingers on your breasts.

Your movements are slow and deliberate; you are fully aware of his most sensitive spots, and you encourage him more and more. Pinching his nipples, tracing the tangible outlines of his abs, and feeling his muscles bulge harder and hader.

Panting and moaning, Oscar's body grows stiff and rigid; unable to contain himself, he bites his lower lip before he grunts angrily.

"Fuck."

You revel in the power you have over him and the way he responds so intensely to your touch.

With each stroke, you feel him growing even more aroused, his body still tightening instinctively to your touch. His hands grip your breasts tighter, sending waves of pleasure through your entire body.

The two of you move as one; every thrust sends you closer and closer to the edge, and the way he grunts deeply tells you he feels the same.

As you lose yourself in the heat of the moment, you know there is no turning back. Your passion burns bright, consuming you both in a whirlwind of sensation and emotion.

With one final, heavy thrust, both of you let go of all that pressure and tension and scream out in ecstasy.

Several exhausted moans leave Oscar's lips, and he leans forward, grateful for the wall steadying him. At the same time, you lean your head back, moaning deeply.

You rest your head against his shoulder, swallowing hard. His body embraces yours right away; his firm shoulder is the perfect place right now.

Out of breath, the two of you barely regain your composure before you lock eyes again, both of you smiling contently.

"That was so good." He moans, exhausted, before he leans in, kissing you deeply.

"Oscar." You breathe into him, kissing him back.

After your passionate moment, you share another tender smile, your hearts still racing with the intensity of your connection. 

With gentle touches and soft kisses, you help each other get dressed again, your movements slow and deliberate again.

As you adjust the sleeves of his fireproofs, you look up at Oscar, your eyes filled with affection. "You were amazing today," you say, your voice filled with pride. "I am so proud of you."

Oscar smiles back, his expression softening. "I am so glad you are here." He replies, his voice tinged with gratitude.

As he begins to change into fresh clothes, you watch him closely, unable to tear your eyes away. 

Oscar moves with natural grace; every movement is fluid and confident. You can't help but admire the way his muscles shift beneath his skin as he removes his racing suit and tight firerpoofs.

He catches your gaze, a playful smirk tugging at his lips. Sensing your admiration, he makes a little show out of changing, exaggerating his movements slightly as he slips out of his fireproofs and into a fresh pair of underwear you hand him.

You laught at his antics, enjoining the playful side of him that he reserves just for you. As you pull on the pair of jeans and the Mclaren shirt, you feel a surge of affection for him, admiring the way he looks in the team gear.

"You look amazing." You say. "But then again, you always do."

Oscar grins, his eyes shining brightly. "I have to look my best, especially with you around." He replies, his tone teasing.

With a final adjustment to his shirt, Oscar turns to you, his expression softening. "Thank you for being here," he says, his voice sincere. 

You reach out and place your hand on his chest again, gently stroking him once more. "I'll always be here for you." You reply. "No matter what."

[moonxknightx]

♡˗ˏ✎*ೃ˚ : BODYGUARDS : :;

╰┈➤ ❝ [PAIRING] ❞ Logan Howlett x F!Reader x Platonic!Wade Wilson

・❥・GENRE: Fluff :))

˚୨୧⋆｡˚ ⋆FANDOM: X-Men

ੈ✩‧₊˚ WARNINGS: None!

˚₊· ͟͟͞͞➳❥SUMMARY: When you come home feeling overwhelmed by college stress and a troublesome boss, Logan and Wade step in. After a heartfelt talk with Logan, they confront your boss to ensure you’re no longer troubled. With their support, you find comfort and reassurance, knowing you’re not alone in facing your challenges.

YOU HAD ALWAYS KNOWN LIFE WASN’T EASY, BUT TODAY WAS SOMETHING ELSE ENTIRELY. The stress of juggling college classes, work, and just trying to keep it all together was slowly getting the better of you. You weren’t the type to break easily, but this… this was overwhelming.

You pushed open the door to the shared apartment you lived in with Logan and Wade, your bag slung over your shoulder, your eyes cast downward. The moment you stepped inside, you were hit with the familiar scent of home, a mix of Logan’s woodsy cologne and Wade’s unmistakable love for chimichangas.

Wade was lounging on the couch, remote in hand, flipping through TV channels. “Hey, sport! You’re just in time to witness me obliterate Logan at Mario Kart,” he called out, grinning like a maniac.

Logan, who was leaning against the kitchen counter, raised an eyebrow at Wade, then glanced at you. Normally, you’d throw a sarcastic quip back at Wade or smile at Logan, but tonight, you couldn’t muster either. You barely looked up.

“Hey,” you mumbled, walking straight past them and into your room, shutting the door softly behind you.

Both men exchanged a look, their senses immediately on high alert.

“That’s… not normal,” Wade commented, frowning slightly. “She didn’t even call me an idiot. Do you think it’s serious?”

Logan stayed silent, eyes narrowing. The way you’d come home, shoulders slumped, weighed down by something unseen—it was enough for him to know something was deeply off.

“Let her have some space,” Logan said gruffly, though the concern in his voice was unmistakable.

Wade sat up a bit straighter. “You think it’s space she needs? Or maybe a hilarious anecdote about the time I fought a taco truck driver because he wouldn’t give me extra guac?”

Logan’s glare was sharp enough to silence even Wade for a moment. “Space,” Logan repeated firmly. “For now.”

~

Inside your room, you collapsed onto the bed, the soft comforter doing little to quell the storm brewing inside you. Your mind raced, thoughts spiraling.

Your boss at work had been on your case all week, nitpicking every little thing as if you couldn’t do anything right. Then there was that huge exam you’d studied for in your hardest class… and you had failed it. The letter ‘F’ haunted your thoughts, taunting you. Everything felt like it was crumbling, and you didn’t know how to fix it.

You hated feeling this way, like the world was slipping from your control. More than that, you hated the idea of burdening Logan or Wade with it. They had enough going on already.

A knock came at your door—light, but firm. You didn’t respond immediately, but the door cracked open slightly, revealing Logan’s rugged face. His hazel eyes were full of that familiar intensity, softened just enough to show he was concerned.

“Can I come in?” he asked, his voice low and gravelly, but gentle in a way reserved just for you.

You nodded, sitting up on the edge of the bed. Logan stepped in, closing the door behind him, and came to sit beside you, his large hand finding its way to your back. His touch was warm, solid, grounding.

“You’ve been off since you walked in,” Logan started, his thumb brushing soothing circles on your back. “Wanna tell me what’s goin’ on?”

The dam you’d tried to keep sealed started to crack. Your throat tightened, and tears you’d been holding back pricked at your eyes. “I… I don’t even know where to start, Logan.”

Logan was silent for a moment, letting you collect yourself. He wasn’t one to push, but when he spoke again, there was a firmness in his tone. “Start wherever you want. I’m here. Wade’s here. You don’t have to deal with this alone.”

The floodgates opened. You started rambling, voice shaky, hands trembling as you tried to get it all out—the boss who wouldn’t leave you alone, the crushing pressure from school, the failure of the test you’d worked so hard on, and how everything just felt like it was spiraling out of control.

“I feel like I’m failing at everything, Logan. I try so hard, but it’s never enough. I just… I can’t anymore,” you whispered, finally breaking down, tears streaming freely now.

Logan pulled you closer, his arms wrapping around you in a way that made you feel protected, safe. He didn’t say anything at first, just held you, letting you cry into his shoulder.

“That’s not true,” Logan finally said, his voice steady. “You’re not failing. Things go wrong, yeah. Shit happens. But it doesn’t mean you’re not doing enough. You’re human. You’re allowed to have bad days.”

You sniffled, leaning into him more, soaking in his warmth, his solidity. “It’s just been so much…”

Logan pulled back slightly, just enough to look you in the eyes, his hand cupping your cheek gently. “And that’s why you don’t have to do it alone. I got your back, always. And if anyone’s been bothering you…” His voice took on a dangerous edge, “I’ll take care of it.”

You chuckled weakly through your tears. “I don’t want you fighting my boss.”

Logan huffed, but his expression softened. “Alright, no fights. But seriously… You don’t have to deal with that crap on your own.”

At that moment, the door swung open dramatically, and Wade popped his head in, eyes wide with exaggerated concern. “Are we hugging in here? Because I can totally make this a group hug.”

You couldn’t help but laugh despite yourself. Wade had a way of lightening the mood, even when things felt impossibly heavy.

Logan rolled his eyes but didn’t say anything as Wade bounded into the room, throwing himself on the bed beside you.

“I was eavesdropping—sorry, not sorry,” Wade started, “and let me just say, anyone giving you a hard time? Deadpool is on it. I’ve got a very particular set of skills. Skills I’ve acquired over a very chaotic, messy life. I’ll make sure no one messes with my little sibling.” He gave you a dramatic wink.

Logan shot Wade a warning look, but there was an understanding between them. For all their bickering, when it came to you, they were always on the same side.

You smiled, feeling a little lighter with both of them by your side.

Logan rubbed your arm gently. “We’re gonna take the rest of the night off. No school, no work. You need a break.”

“But—”

“No ‘buts’,” Logan said firmly. “You’re taking the night for yourself. We’ll watch a movie or do something fun.”

Wade clapped his hands together. “Movie night! I’ll grab the popcorn. And no, you don’t get a choice— we are watching Shrek.”

Logan let out a small grunt, shaking his head, but he didn’t argue.

You couldn’t help but laugh at Wade’s enthusiasm. Despite the mess of emotions swirling inside you, having them around—one a protective, gruff presence, and the other a chaotic, endearing force—made you feel like maybe things would be okay. You weren’t alone in this, no matter how overwhelming it felt.

Logan pressed a kiss to your temple, his voice low and comforting. “You’re gonna be okay. We’ll get through this. Together.”

And for the first time that day, you believed it.

~

The next morning, you woke up feeling a little more rested. Wade’s snoring had been a background noise throughout the night, and Logan had stayed close, his arm draped protectively around you as the three of you fell asleep halfway through Shrek.

You yawned and stretched, your body feeling lighter than the night before. It wasn’t all better, but you knew with Logan and Wade by your side, you’d get through it.

But what you didn’t know—what neither Logan nor Wade had mentioned to you—was that they had a plan.

~

Later that day, Logan and Wade stood just outside your workplace, both wearing sunglasses. Wade had insisted it was part of the "covert op" vibe, even though they stood out like sore thumbs. Logan grunted, adjusting his leather jacket.

“Okay, Wolvie, what’s the game plan? Because I’m itching to shove someone’s head in a copy machine,” Wade said, a little too cheerfully.

Logan growled under his breath. “No shoving heads in machines. We’re here to talk.”

Wade gasped dramatically. “Talk? Logan, we didn’t come all the way here to talk. Have you met us?”

Logan sighed. “You’re not gonna make this easy, are you?”

“Never,” Wade replied, clearly thrilled about the potential chaos.

Logan gave him a side glance. “Just let me handle it.”

Inside, your boss—a middle-aged man with thinning hair and an arrogant air—was sitting at his desk, tapping away at his computer when the door burst open, the bell jingling violently. He looked up, startled, only to see Logan and Wade storming in like two very intimidating storm clouds.

“Uh, can I help you—”

Logan stepped forward, leaning on the man’s desk, his presence radiating danger. “You’re the one who’s been makin’ her life a living hell, right?”

Your boss swallowed hard, his eyes flicking nervously between Logan's intense stare and Wade’s unsettlingly enthusiastic grin. He tried to maintain some semblance of composure, though his voice wavered. “I’m… sorry? Who are you talking about?”

Logan leaned in closer, his voice dropping to a growl. “You know exactly who. The one you’ve been botherin’ all week. You’re gonna stop.”

The boss blinked, sweat already starting to form on his brow. “Listen, if you’ve got a problem, there are proper channels—”

Wade, who had been pacing behind Logan like an impatient child, suddenly slammed his hands down on the desk, making the man jump. “Oh, we’re past proper channels, buddy. See, we’re the 'hands-on' approach. You ever watch John Wick? Think of us like that, but with more sarcasm.” Wade flashed a grin that was more menacing than reassuring. “Y’know, I’ve got so many ways we could handle this. My personal favorite? Something involving a very, very tight stapler and a completely unrelated office supply.”

Logan shot him a glance, silently telling Wade to dial it back. Wade just winked, enjoying himself far too much.

The boss stammered, scrambling for words, his hands now trembling slightly. “I-I didn’t mean to upset anyone. If there’s been a misunderstanding—”

“No misunderstanding,” Logan interrupted, his voice calm but filled with a quiet, deadly promise. “You’ve been makin’ life harder than it needs to be. That ends now. You leave her alone, or you’re gonna wish you had.”

The room went deathly quiet. Logan’s words hung in the air, and though his tone was controlled, the weight behind it made it clear—he wasn’t making a request.

Your boss nodded vigorously, too scared to say much else. “Of course. I’ll… I’ll make sure there’s no more trouble. I didn’t realize…”

Logan stood up straight, stepping back and letting the tension between them settle. “Good. ‘Cause if I hear otherwise, we’ll be back. And I guarantee next time, talkin’ won’t be on the table.”

Wade patted the boss on the shoulder as they turned to leave. “See? Easy peasy. Now, don’t make me come back and introduce you to my friend Mr. Duct Tape, okay?”

The boss just nodded, wide-eyed, watching them until they were out of sight.

~

Outside, Wade was practically skipping with glee. “Did you see his face? I think he aged ten years in the last five minutes! Man, that was fun.”

Logan rolled his eyes but smirked slightly. “I’d rather not come back.”

Wade shrugged. “Eh, we’ll see. If he so much as frowns in their direction again, he’s getting the full Deadpool experience.”

Logan let out a low grunt. “Let’s just hope it doesn’t come to that.”

As they walked away from your workplace, Wade threw an arm around Logan’s shoulders. “Y’know, Wolvie, I gotta say… we make a hell of a team. You with the menacing silence, me with the witty banter? That guy didn’t stand a chance.”

Logan shoved Wade’s arm off, giving him a side-eye. “Just don’t get used to it.”

~

Back at the apartment, you were curled up on the couch, absentmindedly scrolling through your phone, when the door swung open. Logan walked in first, followed by Wade, who was humming some kind of victory tune.

You glanced up at them, feeling a bit more refreshed after the night of rest. “Where have you guys been?”

Logan shrugged, moving into the kitchen to grab a beer from the fridge. “Had to handle somethin’.”

Wade, on the other hand, wasted no time flopping down beside you, his arm slung around your shoulders. “Oh, you know, just a quick errand. Nothing major. But let’s just say that your boss? Yeah, he’s gonna be a lot more… accommodating from now on.”

You blinked, staring at Wade in confusion. “What did you guys do?”

Logan took a swig of his beer, his expression neutral. “Had a little chat. Straightened some things out.”

Wade grinned like the cat that ate the canary. “Oh, yeah. It was glorious. There was sweating, stammering, a little bit of—”

“Wade,” Logan interrupted, shooting him a look.

Wade huffed dramatically but didn’t elaborate. Instead, he gave you a reassuring squeeze. “Point is, you don’t need to worry about that jerk anymore. He’s gonna be on his best behavior. And if he’s not, well…” Wade’s grin widened. “He won’t be for long.”

You couldn’t help but feel a mix of shock and gratitude. “You… You didn’t have to do that.”

Logan came over, standing behind the couch, his hand resting on your shoulder. “Yeah, we did. You don’t deserve to deal with that crap.”

“Exactly,” Wade chimed in. “And if anyone makes you feel like that again, well… we’ve got plenty of time for ‘errands.’”

You laughed softly, feeling a warmth spread through your chest. Sure, Logan and Wade had their differences, and Wade was a whole different level of unpredictable, but they both cared about you fiercely. It wasn’t just words with them—it was action, and you appreciated it more than you could say.

“Thanks, guys,” you said quietly, looking between the two of them.

Logan gave you a nod, his hand squeezing your shoulder gently. “Anytime.”

Wade grinned and reached for the remote. “Alright, now that we’ve saved the day, I vote we celebrate with some violent cartoons and an unhealthy amount of snacks.”

You smiled, settling back into the couch. Despite the chaos, you knew one thing for certain: with Logan and Wade in your corner, there wasn’t anything—or anyone—that could get to you. And that was a comfort you didn’t take lightly.

As Wade flicked through the channels, Logan sat beside you, his hand resting on your knee. You leaned into him, feeling safe, protected. The weight of the world wasn’t so heavy anymore—not when you had these two looking out for you.

And as the opening credits of Shrek 2 rolled across the screen, you couldn’t help but think that maybe, just maybe, things were going to be okay after all.

🏷️: @twinky-wink @fidgetingbee @astarions-girl-dinner @layladestiny8 @birdy-bat-writes @welcometochilis585

If you want to be added to the tag list for Logan content, let me know! 🫶

[coff33andb00ks]

world around us

summary: you're a candle in the window on a cold dark winter's night word count: 1k pairing: lando norris x oscar piastri x driver!reader (lilli. it's lilli) warnings: just pure fluff, slightly suggestive language(?) a.n.: final installation of my I need Lilli to have an amazing birthday series! this is once again for @maxlarens HAPPY BIRTHDAY LILLI MY LOVE!!! playlist: completely unhinged songs that fit the vibe

"No no no no no no no! You can't do that! You fuckin' muppet!"

Oscar mirrors your eye roll as Lando protests you placing a house on one of your properties. "She owns it though?" he says tentatively.

Lando scoffs, snatching up the guide and snapping it open. "The rules say–"

"I refuse to follow rules when you rolled twice so you wouldn't go to jail," you say with a huff, snatching the guide from him.

"I had to! One of the dice landed on the floor!"

"Oh but when we play golf I have to play no matter where my ball lands?"

"Yes." Lando gives you a look of disbelief, as though the idea of breaking a golfing rule is akin to murder. "It's not my fault you can't hit a ball straight."

"Just for that–" You slap more brightly colored money in front of Oscar - Oscar has to be the banker he's the most honest one among us - and grab a hotel to replace the house. "Suffer."

Lando groans, throwing up his hands. "You're cheating. I hate games night."

Oscar's grin shifts and he begins to chuckle. "We could play Trivial Pursuit?"

"No," Lando whines, picking up the dice to take his turn. "That game makes me feel stupid."

"Uno?" you suggest sweetly.

"No, we'll finish this. Capitalism is good to me, I'll make a comeback." Lando nods to himself as he shakes the dice. "Just shut up so I can focus."

And then, twenty minutes later–

"What d'you mean I owe you double the rent?!"

The rules are checked - well this is fucking bullshit - and he counts out all of his money to pay up. Suddenly capitalism sucks and he's clinging to his one property block and his cash like they're his lifeline.

You'll never know how (he probably cheated) but he wins. Monopoly money rains down as he celebrates and you fall back with laughter when Oscar flips the board in disgust.

You love games night. The silly playlist Lando put together plays, Disney movies play, muted, on the tv, and you've got them.

Lando and Oscar. Your biggest rivals on the track and your closest friends off. You're celebrating Oscar's first win this week now that summer break is here, enjoying the lazy days before you each take off in different directions to visit family and recuperate from an exhausting first half of the season.

"Loser cleans up," you remind Oscar and he groans as he gives you a kiss then begins picking up the mess. Lando's singing along to the latest country song he's obsessed with - Is it your heart or mine? Is it whiskey or wine? Is it somethin' in the night Makin' us wanna cross that line? - and he follows you into the kitchen to get more drinks.

"You sure you don't want to come along with me?" he asks, reaching around you to get a beer from the fridge.

"Let me see... Golfing with a bunch of men versus beach time with my best friends…" You hum thoughtfully, squealing when loops an arm around you.

"That can't be right. Me and Osco are your best friends," he says.

"Let me rephrase. Best women friends."

He's holding you close, swaying a little to the song playing - you think Oscar's the one who added ABBA, or maybe it was you - and you smile a little as you sway with him. He hums songs without realizing it and it's one of his more endearing habits.

"But I'll miss you," he murmurs, tucking his chin on your shoulder.

"I'll miss you too." And you will. This season you've grown closer to him. Literally, considering he finally talked you - and Oscar - into moving to Monaco. But also figuratively. You're just as rough on yourself as he is on himself, and with all the macho bravado that surrounds you every race week, it's nice to have someone who understands your being upset over missing out on a podium due to your own failings as a driver, your miscommunication with the team. It's rarer to have someone who understands shouldering the blame of the team's missteps – if I was better at this, they would trust my judgment but I'm not so they don't and that means—

"Not getting sappy on me are you?" Lando teases.

"You started it," you mutter. Turning, you wrap your arms around him. "We can live a few weeks without each other."

"I mean… You'll text right? Call?" he asks softly.

"FaceTime too," you promise.

It's tentative and new and so fucking scary but he gives you a soft kiss. Not your first with him, but it still makes your heart do that weird little flutter that it's only ever done with one other person.

"Jenga?" Oscar calls from the living room and Lando perks up instantly, nearly knocking you down in his haste to get back to the only other person he's going to miss during break.

Jenga with your boys is impossible. They're too competitive, know too many things they can say that make the other break and send the blocks flying.

"Oh of course he's going for the bottom, man loves to be at the bottom," Oscar mutters to you and Lando's giggling, covering his face with his hands as the tower collapses.

The games are abandoned, and you're squished on the couch between them, Oscar's lips on your ear, Lando's head on your stomach as the three of you, tipsy and relaxed, begin making plans for the last days of break while a Studio Ghibli movie plays. It's not said by either of you, but you already know that the three of you will find each other long before the break is over.

The world is easier to bear when it's the three of you together. It's still new, still tentative, still scary as hell, but it feels oh so right.

[imthebadguyyy]

I Can Do It With A Broken Heart

pairing : f1 drivers x reader fandom : f1 synopsis : the grid is there to watch you flourish with a broken heart. warnings : angst and insane amounts of platonic fluff

I can read your mind, "she's having the time of her life", there in her glittering prime.

The press conference room was buzzing with excitement. Cameras flashed, microphones were adjusted, and reporters shuffled in their seats, eager to ask their questions. You sat at the table, the only female driver on the grid, proudly representing Mercedes. Beside you were Lewis Hamilton and George Russell, both offering reassuring smiles as they prepared for the barrage of questions.

The session began with the usual inquiries about strategies, car performance, and race predictions. You answered confidently, drawing on your experiences and expertise. The lights refracted sequined stars off your silhouette every night, making it seem like you were having the time of your life, there in your glittering prime.

But then, a reporter in the back stood up, his tone sharp and probing. "I can read your mind," he began, a smirk playing on his lips. "She's having the time of her life," he quoted, a mocking tone in his voice. "But given the recent incidents, do you think you're emotionally strong enough to handle the pressures of Formula 1, especially as a female driver? Some might say you're struggling to keep up."

The question hit you like a punch to the gut. You took a deep breath, feeling a mix of anger and hurt. How dare he question your strength, your dedication? You squared your shoulders, looking the reporter straight in the eye.

"I can show you lies," you said, your voice steady and strong. "One, two, three, four. You don't get to tell me about sad," you continued, your gaze unwavering. "I've faced challenges and pressures just like everyone else on this grid. My gender doesn't make me weaker or less capable. If anything, it makes me stronger."

The room fell silent for a moment, the tension palpable. But then, Lewis leaned forward, his expression fierce. "We all face immense pressure in this sport," he said, his voice calm but firm. "And she's proven time and again that she belongs here. Her strength and resilience are unmatched."

George nodded in agreement. "She's one of the best drivers I've ever had the privilege to race alongside. Her gender has nothing to do with her capabilities. She's here on merit, just like the rest of us."

Sebastian Vettel, sitting a few seats down, chimed in as well. "Respect is crucial in this sport. We support each other, and we stand by her. She's earned her place on this grid, and nothing can take that away from her."

Valtteri Bottas added his voice to the mix. "We all have our struggles, but it's how we handle them that defines us. And she's handled everything with grace and determination."

Checo Perez, who was at the press conference as well, spoke up. "It's easy to criticize from the outside. But we know what it takes to be here, and she has it all. She's not just a great driver; she's an inspiration."

The support from your fellow drivers warmed your heart. You felt a surge of gratitude and pride. They saw you for who you were—a talented driver, a fierce competitor, and a valuable member of the F1 community.

The reporter, realizing he had crossed a line, shifted uncomfortably and mumbled an apology. The press conference moved on, but the impact of that moment stayed with you. It was a reminder of the solidarity and respect that existed among the drivers, a testament to the bond you shared.

After the press conference, as you walked back to the paddock, Lewis put a reassuring hand on your shoulder. "You're stronger than any of them know," he said with a smile.

You nodded, feeling a renewed sense of confidence. "Thanks, Lewis. And thanks to all of you," you said, looking around at your fellow drivers. "I couldn't do this without your support."

As you prepared for the next race, you knew that no matter what challenges lay ahead, you had a team of incredible people standing by your side. And that made all the difference.

'cause I'm a real tough kid, I can handle my shit

The race had been intense, a whirlwind of speed and strategy. You pushed your Mercedes to its limits, navigating the twists and turns with precision and skill. As the only female driver on the grid, you had a point to prove, and today, you were doing just that.

But then, in the final laps, an incident occurred. Another driver made a reckless move, causing you to swerve and lose valuable time. Despite the setback, you fought your way back up, crossing the finish line in third place. The cheers from the crowd were deafening as you made your way to the podium, your heart pounding with a mix of triumph and exhaustion.

Standing on the podium, you felt a surge of pride. You had earned this. But as the ceremony began, an official approached, a somber look on his face. "I'm sorry," he said quietly, "but you've been given a penalty for the incident on the track. You've lost your podium place."

Your heart sank, but you quickly composed yourself. 'Cause I'm a real tough kid, I can handle my shit, you reminded yourself. The decision was unfair, a blatant disregard for the fact that you were the victim of the incident. But instead of letting it break you, you chose to rise above it.

With a defiant smile, you raised your trophy high, celebrating as if nothing had happened. The crowd roared in approval, sensing your silent rebellion against the FIA. You waved to your fans, your expression one of unwavering confidence and determination. You were here to stay, and no unfair penalty could take that away from you.

Lewis Hamilton, standing beside you, exchanged a glance of admiration and support. He knew the situation was unjust, but he also knew you were strong enough to handle it. As you all sprayed champagne, the message was clear: you wouldn't let anyone diminish your achievements.

After the ceremony, as you walked back to the paddock, Lewis was waiting for you. He pulled you into a warm hug, holding you tightly. "You were incredible out there," he whispered, his voice full of warmth and pride. "I'm so proud of you."

You hugged him back, drawing strength from his support. "Thanks, Lewis. It means a lot coming from you."

He pulled back slightly, looking into your eyes with genuine affection. "Don't let anyone tell you otherwise. You've got the heart of a champion, and no unfair penalty can change that."

Oscar Piastri, who had finished second, gave you a nod of respect as he approached. "That was a tough break," he said quietly. "But you handled it with more class than most could."

You smiled at Oscar, appreciating his support. "Thanks, Oscar. It’s moments like these that show what we're made of."

As you walked away, Lewis kept his arm around your shoulders, a silent but powerful gesture of solidarity. "Remember," he said softly, "we're a team. And we're all here for you."

You nodded, feeling a renewed sense of confidence and camaraderie. "I know. And it makes all the difference."

As you prepared for the next race, you knew that the road ahead would be filled with challenges. But with your resilience, the support of your team, and your unwavering determination, you were ready to face whatever came your way. And that made all the difference.

babe, you gotta fake it 'til you make it" and I did

The season had been a rollercoaster, filled with highs and lows, but you had handled it with grace and determination. As the only female driver on the grid, you constantly faced scrutiny and doubt from the pundits who seemed to neglect your achievements. Every podium finish, every hard-fought point, was downplayed or overshadowed by your male counterparts.

Despite this, you kept your head high. One particular pundit, known for his sarcasm, had once sneered, "You just have to fake it 'til you make it, right?" His dismissive comment stung, but you channeled that frustration into every race, using it as fuel to prove your worth.

Then came the breakthrough. Four consecutive wins. It was a streak that left everyone in awe, and there was no denying your dominance on the track. Each victory was sweeter than the last, a testament to your skill and resilience. But what you relished most was the silence from the pundits who had so often dismissed you.

After your fourth straight win, you stood on the podium, the crowd roaring in approval. You soaked in the moment, knowing you had earned every bit of it. As you descended the podium, your eyes locked onto the group of pundits, including the one who had made that sarcastic remark.

With a confident stride, you walked straight up to them. The surprise on their faces was evident as you approached. You could feel the tension, the unspoken acknowledgment of your triumph hanging in the air.

"You remember that comment you made?" you asked, your voice clear and unwavering. "About faking it until you make it?" You let the words hang for a moment, letting the weight of your achievements settle in. "Well, I did just that. And look where it got me."

Lando Norris, standing nearby, gave you an encouraging nod, his eyes filled with pride. Carlos Sainz, too, offered a smile of respect and admiration. They had witnessed your journey, your struggles, and your victories, and they knew how much this moment meant.

The pundits, momentarily speechless, nodded in acknowledgment. You didn't need their praise or recognition anymore. You had shown the world what you were capable of, and that was enough.

As you walked away, you felt a surge of satisfaction and confidence. The road ahead would still have its challenges, but you knew you could face them with the same strength and grace that had brought you this far. And with every race, you would continue to prove that you belonged at the very top of the sport.

Lando joined you, wrapping an arm around your shoulders. "You handled that perfectly," he said, his voice full of admiration.

Carlos came up on your other side, grinning. "They won't underestimate you again."

You smiled, feeling the camaraderie and support from your teammates. "Thanks, guys. It means a lot."

As you prepared for the next race, you knew that the future was bright. You had the talent, the determination, and the support to achieve anything you set your mind to.

lights, camera, bitch smile, even when you wanna die

The Monaco Grand Prix weekend was in full swing, and the glamorous event was bustling with high-profile guests, flashing cameras, and a sea of paparazzi. You, the only female driver on the grid, were attending a high-profile gala, and while the event was supposed to be a celebration, it quickly turned into a showcase of unwelcome comments.

You walked into the venue, dressed in a stunning outfit that was both elegant and bold. However, instead of admiring glances, you were met with snide remarks and superficial comments about your appearance. People were whispering about your body, your outfit, and your presence, making jabs and sarcastic remarks about your place in the spotlight.

“Lights, camera, bitch smile,” you thought to yourself, trying to maintain your composure. Even when you felt like the criticism was overwhelming, you knew you had to keep up a brave front.

Charles Leclerc and Lewis Hamilton, who were both at the event, noticed the uncomfortable atmosphere surrounding you. They were determined to support you and stand by your side.

As you mingled through the crowd, a particularly obnoxious guest made a loud comment, “Nice outfit, but are you sure you’re not just here to be a pretty face?”

The remark stung, but you refused to let it show. Instead, you turned to the person with a sarcastic smile. “Oh, absolutely. I’m just here to make up the numbers. But hey, if looking good and putting up with this nonsense is part of the job, I guess I’m killing it.”

The crowd fell silent, taken aback by your sharp retort. Charles, standing nearby, stepped in with a smile that was equal parts supportive and mischievous. “You know, I think she’s doing a lot more than just looking good. It’s impressive how she handles this kind of stuff.”

Lewis, also by your side, nodded in agreement. “Yeah, and I’ve seen her drive circles around the competition. I’d say she’s got more than enough talent to match that smile.”

The remarks were met with a stunned silence from the onlookers. The shift in tone was palpable, and the crowd seemed to recognize that they had crossed a line. You gave Charles and Lewis a grateful smile, appreciating their support.

As the night went on, you continued to navigate the event with a blend of poise and sarcasm. The comments faded into the background as you enjoyed the company of those who genuinely respected you.

Charles, as you were leaving the event, put a reassuring hand on your shoulder. “You handled that like a pro,” he said, his tone warm and sincere.

Lewis joined in, wrapping an arm around your shoulders. “You were amazing out there. Sometimes, all it takes is a little bit of sass to set things right.”

You smiled, feeling a renewed sense of confidence and camaraderie. “Thanks, guys. I’ve learned that sometimes, you just have to give as good as you get.”

As you left the gala, you knew that the road ahead would still have its challenges. But with the support of your friends and the strength you had shown, you felt ready to face whatever came your way.

im so depressed i act like it's my birthday everyday

The breakup had been brutal. Your boyfriend, a famous tennis player, had ended things in the most public and humiliating way possible. Since then, he’d been making snide comments about you in interviews, trying to tarnish your reputation. Despite the heartache, you continued to show up and perform on the F1 circuit, determined not to let his words break you.

"I'm so depressed, I act like it's my birthday every day," you thought bitterly, putting on a brave face for the cameras and the fans. The Monaco Grand Prix was approaching, and as always, the media was in a frenzy. You had a press conference lined up, and you knew that questions about your ex were inevitable.

You took your seat at the press conference, flanked by Lewis Hamilton, Charles Leclerc, Carlos Sainz, and Max Verstappen. The room was buzzing with anticipation as the questions started to roll in. It wasn’t long before one of the reporters brought up your ex-boyfriend’s recent comments.

“Your ex has been quite vocal about your breakup, making some rather harsh remarks. How do you respond to that?”

You took a deep breath, feeling the familiar sting of his words. But instead of letting it show, you decided to turn the tables with a sarcastic comment. “Well, he’s clearly got a lot of time on his hands now that he’s not busy winning matches. Maybe he should consider a career in stand-up comedy.”

The room erupted in a mix of gasps and chuckles. Before you could say more, Lewis jumped in, his expression serious. “He’s too stupid for his own good if he thinks he can undermine her. She’s shown more strength and class than he ever will.”

Charles nodded in agreement. “He let a gem slip out of his fingers. His loss is the racing world’s gain.”

Carlos added, his voice full of warmth, “She’s got more talent and heart than he could ever understand. We’re lucky to have her here.”

Max leaned into his mic, a rare smile on his face. “And let’s be honest, she’s the one who’s truly winning. Both on and off the track.”

You couldn’t help but laugh, shaking your head at their support. “Thanks, guys. I appreciate it.”

The bond between you all was palpable. The camaraderie and mutual respect you shared were evident, and the crowd could see it. The reporters seemed taken aback by the united front, realizing they wouldn’t get the reaction they’d hoped for.

As the press conference continued, the focus shifted back to racing, and you felt a sense of relief. You answered questions about your performance, your strategy for the upcoming race, and your goals for the season. With each answer, you felt stronger, more confident.

After the press conference, the guys surrounded you, offering words of encouragement and support. Lewis gave you a reassuring pat on the back. “You handled that perfectly. Don’t let anyone get to you.”

Charles grinned, his eyes full of mischief. “Yeah, and if he keeps talking, we’ll take care of it.”

Carlos laughed. “I don’t think he stands a chance against all of us.”

Max added, his tone sincere, “You’ve got us. We’re in this together.

You smiled, feeling the warmth of their friendship and support. “Thanks, everyone. It means a lot.”

As you prepared for the next race, you knew that with the support of your friends and the strength you had shown, you could face whatever came your way.

i cry a lot but I am so productive, it's an art

The morning of the race, you found yourself hiding in the bathroom, tears streaming down your face. The pressure of the season, the recent breakup, and the constant scrutiny had finally taken their toll. You sat on the floor, head in your hands, sobbing uncontrollably. "I cry a lot but I am so productive, it's an art," you thought bitterly, trying to pull yourself together.

Outside, the sounds of the paddock were a blur, but the faint knock on the bathroom door was unmistakable. "Hey, you okay in there?" It was Lewis's voice, filled with concern.

You tried to steady your breathing, wiping your tears. "Yeah, I'm fine," you lied, your voice trembling.

The door creaked open slightly, and Charles's worried face appeared. "We heard you crying. Do you want to talk, Speedy?"

Carlos and Max were right behind him, their expressions mirroring Charles's worry. "You don't have to do this alone, Champ," Carlos said softly.

Unable to hold it in any longer, you broke down again. "It's just... everything. The pressure, the breakup, the constant comments... I can't handle it."

Lewis stepped inside, kneeling next to you. "We're here for you, Superstar. You’re stronger than you know."

Max nodded, his usually stern face softened with empathy. "You don’t have to be perfect all the time, Ace. It's okay to have moments like this."

Oscar, who had just arrived, added, "And after all this, we know you’ll go out there and show everyone what you're made of, Rocket."

Their words, their presence, it all felt overwhelming in the best way. You took a deep breath, trying to compose yourself. "Thank you, guys. I just... I need to get through today."

Lewis helped you up, giving you a reassuring hug. "And you will, Star. We believe in you."

With their support, you made your way to the grid. The race ahead seemed daunting, but you channeled all your emotions into your performance. Lap after lap, you pushed yourself to the limit, determined to prove to yourself and everyone else that you could rise above it all.

When the checkered flag waved, you had done it. You won the race. The crowd erupted in cheers, but all you could think about was the breakdown you had just hours before. As you climbed onto the podium, flanked by Max and Oscar, you felt a mix of triumph and relief.

During the podium ceremony, the emotions threatened to overwhelm you again, but you managed to keep a brave face. When it was your turn to speak, you decided to lighten the mood. "I cry a lot, but I am so productive, it's an art," you said with a smile. The crowd laughed, appreciating your honesty and humor.

Max and Oscar both hugged you tightly, their support evident. "You did amazing, Lightning," Max whispered.

Oscar added, "We’re so proud of you, Champ."

The three of you stood there, arms around each other, a united front against the world. The bond you shared was clear, and for a moment, all the pain and pressure seemed to fade away.

As you looked out at the cheering crowd, you knew that the road ahead would still have its challenges. But with the support of your friends and the strength you had shown today, you felt ready to face whatever came your way. And for now, that was enough.

i was grinning like I'm winning i was hitting my marks, cuz I can do it with a broken heart!

The final race of the season was here, and Abu Dhabi was buzzing with anticipation. You stood on the starting grid, feeling the weight of the world on your shoulders. The breakup, the constant pressure, and the emotional toll of the season had been overwhelming, but you had kept pushing forward.

As the race began, you found your rhythm. Lap after lap, you were grinning like you were winning, hitting your marks perfectly. The focus, the drive, the determination—it all came together. "I can do it with a broken heart," you thought, channeling all your pain into every turn, every straight, every maneuver.

When the checkered flag waved, it was you crossing the line first. The roar of the crowd was deafening as you realized you had just won the World Championship. Tears of joy and relief streamed down your face as you brought your car to a stop. You had done it. Despite everything, you had achieved your dream.

Climbing out of your car, you were immediately swarmed by your team, who lifted you high in the air, cheering your name. Amid the chaos, you saw Lewis and Charles running towards you, their faces lit up with pride and excitement.

As you stood on the podium, the reality of your accomplishment sinking in, you took the microphone for your victory speech. "This season has been the toughest of my life," you began, your voice wavering with emotion. "I’ve been through hell and back. Heartbreak, pressure, and so many nights where I didn’t think I could keep going. But I did. Because I’m stronger than my fears, stronger than my pain."

You paused, looking out at the sea of faces cheering for you. "To everyone who ever doubted me, who said I couldn't make it—look at me now! I was grinning like I was winning, hitting my marks... because I can do it with a broken heart!"

The crowd erupted in applause, and Lewis and Charles were the loudest, hollering and cheering for you. They rushed onto the podium, drowning you in hugs, their pride and love for you evident in their eyes.

Lewis pulled you into a tight embrace. "You did it, Superstar! I knew you could!"

Charles joined in, wrapping his arms around both of you. "You’re incredible, Speedy! We’re so proud of you!

The three of you stood there, holding each other as the celebration continued around you. The bond you shared was unbreakable, forged through countless races, challenges, and triumphs.

As the champagne flowed and the confetti rained down, you felt a sense of peace and fulfillment. Despite the broken heart, you had achieved your greatest dream. And with Lewis and Charles by your side, you knew you could face anything the future held.

This moment, this victory, was yours. And it was sweeter than you could have ever imagined.

try and come for my job

The afterparty in Abu Dhabi was in full swing. The entire paddock was buzzing with excitement after the thrilling end to the season, and tonight was all about celebration. You had just won the World Championship, and the energy was electric.

Dressed in a dark pink glittery dress, you let yourself get swept up in the festivities. The music was loud, the drinks were flowing, and everyone was ready to let loose after a long, grueling season. Your team was gathered around you, along with many of the other drivers, all celebrating your incredible achievement.

As the night went on, the mood became more jubilant. Someone handed you a shot, and you raised it high, feeling a surge of adrenaline and joy. The crowd around you cheered as you climbed up onto a tabletop, ready to make a statement.

Holding the shot glass in one hand, you looked around at the sea of faces, all eyes on you. You grinned mischievously, feeling a boldness take over. "Try and come for my job!" you shouted, downing the shot in one go.

The room erupted in cheers and laughter. Lewis and Charles were right there, cheering the loudest, their faces beaming with pride. The moment was captured on video by several people, and within minutes, it was already going viral on social media.

You continued to dance on the tabletop, feeling the music pulse through you. The crowd chanted your name, the energy infectious. Lewis and Charles joined you, clambering up onto the table and dancing alongside you, their arms around your shoulders.

Lewis leaned in close, his voice filled with laughter. "You’re unstoppable, Superstar!"

Charles, grinning from ear to ear, added, "No one’s taking your job, Speedy! You’re the best!"

Max and Oscar were below, cheering and laughing, capturing the moment on their phones. Carlos handed you another drink, shaking his head in amazement. "You’re a legend, Rocket!"

As the night went on, the party showed no signs of slowing down. You felt an overwhelming sense of camaraderie and love from everyone around you. The hardships and struggles of the season melted away in the light of this celebration.

Later, as you finally climbed down from the table, breathless and exhilarated, Lewis and Charles stayed close, their support unwavering. "We’ve got your back, no matter what," Lewis said, his tone sincere.

Charles nodded, his eyes filled with admiration. "You’re a champion in every sense of the word. Never forget that."

You smiled, feeling the warmth of their words. "Thanks, guys. I couldn’t have done it without you."

The night continued, filled with laughter, dancing, and countless toasts to your success. The viral video of you downing a shot and declaring your dominance spread like wildfire, capturing the essence of your fearless, unstoppable spirit.

As the party finally wound down, you knew that this was just the beginning. With your friends and teammates by your side, you were ready to face whatever challenges lay ahead. And for now, you were content to bask in the joy of this unforgettable night.

a/n : ahhh I've been waiting for this one!! happy reading 🩷 and as always, comments likes reblogs feedback etc is always appreciated 🤍

TAGS

f1 : @ivegotparticulartaste @moon-enthusiast @superlegend216 @theonly1outof-a-billion

ttpd series - @ateezseonghwanot @khaylin27 @imgondeletedis @jj-ever-lovely-jewel @stylestastic

charles : - @chanshintien @eternalharry @janeholt @magicalcowboyarbiter @oneafterdark @leclerc13 @moon-enthusiast @crlsummer @superlegend216 @electrobutterfly @formula1mount @f1lover20 @livsters @inkfable @ssararuffoni

[cherryobx]

pretty girl

request: here

pairing: Steve Harrington x reader

summary: Steve has been begging to take you on a date for weeks but you've said no every time because you think you're not pretty enough for him

warnings: reader is pictured as fem and has hair that can be pushed behind the ear, being insecure about acne, steve is a simp, they're coworkers, reader wears jewelry

wc: 1.1k

“Why won’t you go out with me?” Steve asks, leaning against the driver side of your car so you can’t get in the car without him moving. You were both on closing shift tonight so you walked to the parking lot together.

“I already told you, I just don’t want to.” It’s a lie. A big fucking lie. In fact, it’s your dream to go out on a date with Steve. He’s handsome, sweet and has always been very nice to you but it’s your own insecurities holding you back.

Ever since puberty hit, you’ve been struggling with acne. You’ve never once thought that other people with acne were any less beautiful but you just couldn’t get yourself to like how it looked on you, how the bumps and scars littered your face. 

“That’s bullshit. I know you like me. I just don’t understand why you won’t go out with me,” he ponders.

“My reasoning should be enough for you to back off.” You cross your arms on your chest, using them as some sort of barrier between you and him, hiding yourself.

“Have I done something to you for you to hate me?”

“No, of course not.”

“Then go out with me.”

“No,” you stand on your ground. “Can you please stop blocking my car so I can go home now?”

“No.” And he stands on his. He’s not giving up and you can’t help but lowkey admire his ambition.

“No?” You raise your eyebrow at him.

“Give me a real reason. Tell me honestly why you don’t want to go out with me,” he demands and you sigh at that. You know he won’t leave you alone unless you actually tell him. 

Steve prides himself in knowing you well enough to know when you’re lying. Couple months into working at the Family Video together he managed to spot the tells of you lying. He saw it every day first hand. They were always little white lies. Like when someone asked about a movie they wanted to rent out but you told them that it wasn’t available at the moment. The truth was that it was, he checked, but you wanted to take it home yourself. But he noticed how you pushed hair behind your ear and then pulled it back out from behind it many times. He noticed how you fidgeted with your rings and bracelets or touched the necklace you never took off. He noticed.

You take a quick glance around to make sure that there are no people near enough to hear you confess your biggest insecurity to your coworker. Not that anyone would really care. But you do. It’s something you don’t really voice out loud and write in private into your diary at night when everyone is sleeping.

“Are you sure you want to go out with me?”

“I wouldn’t be asking if I wasn’t. What is this about?” His eyebrows are furrowed and he looks confused.

“Don’t you find me, I don’t know, ugly?” Your voice is now quieter, vulnerable.

He’s taken aback. His words are almost choked up. “Ugly? No, I find you really pretty actually. Why would I think that?”

“You’re just saying that. You can be honest with me, Steve. My acne. Is it not making me unattractive or something?”

He pushes himself off your car and stands up straight. “I am being honest. I think you’re the most gorgeous girl in Hawkins.”

“You’re lying.”

“I’m not! Your acne does not make you any less beautiful to me.” He takes a step closer into your space, his eyes remaining on yours. It’s a little thing but you notice it. Most people’s attention is on the skin of your face but Steve is staring straight into your eyes, almost like he’s seeing into your soul. It makes you feel vulnerable.

Your heartbeat speeds up and you can feel your heart thumping loudly in your chest at his closeness. His hand comes up to your face and he pushes a stray strand of hair behind your ear. “I want to take you out because I like you. I like spending time with you. I like how you make me laugh. I like how you fix my hair when you notice it’s messed up. I like how you lie to customers from time to time.” That pulls a smile from you. “ I like how you look at me. Because I look at you the same way.”

“Are you serious?”

“As death.” He places his hand over his heart. 

“I don't feel pretty enough for you, Steve. There are so many girls who’d do anything to be with you. You should be with someone who looks and feels as pretty as you are.”

“You think I’m pretty?” There’s a cocky smirk on his face.

“Was that all you heard?” You scrunch your face.

“No. I’m sorry. I was joking,” he chuckles nervously. “If you don’t feel ‘pretty enough’ for me,” he uses air quotes, “I want to help you feel that you are. I want you to show you how beautiful I think you are. I want to take you out and show you off because you deserve it. You deserve to be treated like a princess because that’s who you are.”

You almost tear up at his words. He seems to genuinely mean what he says and it’s quite literally pulling on your heartstrings. “Really?”

“Really. Let me take you out, please.”

“Okay.” Your voice is barely above a whisper but it’s enough for him to hear. The smile on his face is huge as he wraps his arms around you tightly, lifting you off the ground and spinning you around. You laugh and hold onto him tightly.

“Yes! You won’t regret it, I swear.” 

When he finally places you back on the ground, he keeps his arms around you, no space between you two as your bodies are pressed together. 

His eyes dart to your lips. “Can I kiss you or is that like reserved for the first date?”

It pulls another smile from you. “It is, but I’ll make an exception for you.”

It’s all you need to say before he kisses you, a hand coming to rest on the side of your neck, fingers in your hair. It’s gentle and sweet but oh so perfect.

“How about tomorrow night? We’re both off.”

“How do you know my work schedule?” You narrow your eyes at him.

He shrugs, a mischievous smirk on his face.

“So?”

“Tomorrow works.”

He presses a small peck to your lips before pulling away and backing towards his own car. “I’ll pick you up at 7 then.”

“Sure.”

“See you tomorrow, pretty girl.” His nickname for you causes your cheeks to heat up and you grin.

Maybe you should’ve given into him and his relentless begging sooner. 

[rynwritesreid]

Sold my Soul | Spencer Reid

Summary: You’re out celebrating with your friends after a recent work accomplishment. Where you bump into Spencer Reid who is working on a case in your city. fem!reader. This is my first time writing smut outside of an overall story, so there is a plot. I hope you enjoy it:)

Content: Dom! Spencer . Sub! reader. Use of nicknames (good girl). Smut (with a plot). Overstimulation. Oral (M and F receiving) Fingering (F receiving) MDNI. 18+

words: 5.3k

Masterlist| Requests are open | Navigation

You like to have things under control, but I mean who doesn’t? You could be relaxed on the surface, all calm and collected, all your friends said you had a calming presence. But if one thing went wrong in your daily routine you would be stressed thinking your whole day had gone wrong.

 

But today was a big, you had an important meeting with your editor. You took a deep breath and tried to calm yourself as you checked the time once again. You were running five minutes late, and now all you could think about is how unprofessional this would look and how unprepared you felt. You had spent countless hours working on your latest novel, and the idea of someone finding a fault in your writing was making you beyond anxious.

You rushed out of your apartment, taking the stairs two at a time. You reached the street just in time to see your uber pulling up to the curb. The driver gave you a nod and a smile as you climbed into the back seat. You smiled back politely but couldn’t find it in you to make small talk. Your mind was solely focused on your meeting ahead. You had been working on your latest novel for months, pouring your heart and soul into every word.

 

But as the meeting drew closer, you began to second-guess yourself. What if your editor hates your work? What if they find plot holes or inconsistencies that you have missed? The thoughts swirled around in your head like a tornado, and you couldn’t shake them off.

 

As the car pulled up to the publishing house, you took a deep breath and stepped out onto the street. You smoothed out your clothes and adjusted your bag, trying to regain some semblance of control. But as soon as you walked through the glass door, your anxiety escalated.

 

The meeting was difficult, but you felt it was successful. Your editor had a handful of constructive criticisms, but all in all, they loved your work. You let out a sigh of relief as you left the publishing house, feeling like a weight had been lifted of your shoulders.

 

You had decided to call your closest friends to go out and celebrate afterwards. They were always down to go drinking, for celebrations or to commiserate. As you walked towards the nearest bar in the city, your mind was still racing from the meeting. You couldn’t believe that your editor had loved your work, and you couldn’t wait to celebrate with your friends. You pushed open the door to the bar, the sound of laughter and music hitting you as you stepped inside.

 

Your friends were already there, waving to you from the corner of the room. You made your way over, taking a seat beside them. You could feel the nervous energy draining from your body as your ordered a round of drinks for the table.

 

As the night went on, the drinks kept coming. You let yourself relax completely, enjoying the company of your friends and the new sense of freedom that came with having your novel approved. The bar kept getting louder and more crowded as the night went on.

 

Your friends went to get some drinks, as you just wanted to sit and enjoy the atmosphere for a moment. As you were people watching, you saw a group of about five/six people all sitting together. Each one of them was more attractive than the next. But one specifically caught your eye. He was fairly tall, around 6-foot, mediumish brown curly hair, hazel brown eyes and a face sent straight from the Greek gods. You looked at him and you just couldn’t look away. As he caught you looking, he flashed you a smile that made your heart race. You quickly looked away, feeling embarrassed that you had been caught staring. But you couldn’t help but glance back, and you found that he was still looking at you, a playful smirk on his lips.

 

Suddenly, your friends were back at the table, loudly chatting and laughing as they set down their drinks. You tried to focus on their conversation, but you found yourself stealing glances at the handsome stranger across the room.

 

You turned back to your friends and as asked, “do you guys see that group of people? Do you think they are all like models or something?”

 

Both of your friends turned to look at the group of strangers, looking, more like judging, each one.

 

Lucy was the first to say something, “I think they are. Or whatever job they are in, requires them to look as beautiful as possible.”

 

Alice than spoke, “it almost feels like I’m dreaming. The two older guys are making me question myself.”

 

You chuckled at Alice’s comment. “What about the guy with the brown curly hair? He’s like the most attractive man I have ever seen.” You already knew their answers already, they would tell you how they agreed with you, but he wasn’t their type.

 

“He’s really hot, but the guy sitting next to him is my cup of tea.” Lucy said with a giggle.

 

Alice elbowed her and went “I thought you’d more go for the woman with the black hair. I’ve seen you flirt with women like her all the time.”

 

Lucy looked mildly offended, but in a jokey way.

 

You all laughed together, while still staring at the random group of strangers. You must have looked like a group of weirdos. You all returned to your drinks, and conversation about each of your days. But your attention kept drifting towards the beautiful stranger across the room, and you couldn’t help but wonder if he was interested in you too.

 

After some time, you excused yourself from the table, making your way to the bar. You ordered a drink and leaned against the counter, trying to act cool and collected. But as you turned around, you found the handsome stranger was standing right beside you.

 

“Do you make it a habit of staring at strangers and then, obviously, talking about those strangers?” He jokingly asked.

 

“Not really. Only when they all look like models but stand around like they work for the FBI or something.” You replied with a smile, and the feeling of your cheeks flushing with embarrassment. You couldn’t help but think that he was more even more attractive up close.

 

“Well, you guessed one of them right. We aren’t all models, but we do work for the FBI. So, were you and your friends all comparing us, seeing which one is more attractive?” He asked in a teasing tone, with a small smirk plastered across his lips.

 

“Woah, you work for the FBI? That’s so cool, I’ve written books about you guys. And yeah, maybe we were seeing which one of you is more attractive. But we all have different tastes, so we weren’t necessarily comparing, more saying which one we find attractive.” You replied, feeling a smile tug at the corners of your lips. You couldn’t resist the charm of the handsome stranger.

 

“Well, I hope you found someone to your liking,” he said turning to look at you fully. “Because I think I might have found someone of mine.”

 

“You have? Who is it? Is it one of my friends, because if it is, I have disappointing news. Also, I’m Y/N. I don’t normally introduce myself to strangers, but I am kinda drunk right now.”

 

“It’s not one of your friends,” he said, with a chuckle. “And it’s nice to meet you, Y/N. I’m Spencer. You’re smart for not giving out your last name, would be easy to track you down.”

 

“Is that a threat, Spencer? But don’t worry, I only give my last name out on like the second date with someone.” You say with some confidence.

 

“Not a threat, just a warning. You never know who you’ll meet in a bar,” he said, his eyes sparkling with humour. “So, Y/N, what brings you out tonight? Celebrating something?”

 

You hesitated for a moment, unsure if you wanted to share the news of your novel being approved with a stranger. But something in the way Spencer was looking at you made you feel like you could trust him.

 

“Actually, I just got my novel approved by my editor. It’s been a long time coming, and I needed to celebrate with my friends,” you said, feeling a little proud of yourself. “What about you, Spencer? What brings you out tonight?”

 

“Oh, just blowing off some steam with my colleagues. We’ve been working on a tough case for a while. I think we are all missing home.” His voice seemed to have some hurt behind it.

 

“Oh no. I’m so sorry. But you’ve come to probably one of the worst bars in the city to do that.” You were trying to lighten the mood again.

 

“Maybe you’re right. But this bar led me to you.” He said with a little chuckle.

 

Spencer’s words sent a shiver of excitement down your spine. You couldn’t help but feel drawn to him, despite knowing almost nothing about him. His hazel eyes sparkled with amusement as he watched you, and you found yourself smiling in response.

 

“Am I really that interesting, Spencer?” You asked, unable to resist teasing him a little bit.

 

“Of course, you are, Y/N. You’re smart, beautiful, and you’ve just had a major accomplishment. What’s not to find interesting?” he replied, his voice low and smooth.

 

As the night wore on, you found yourself constantly drawn back to Spencer. Your conversations flowed easily, and you couldn’t help but feel like you’d known him for years.

 

As the bar closed, your friends began to leave, but Spencer was still standing beside you. You could tell he was hesitant to leave, but you couldn’t tell if that because of you or something else entirely.

 

“Hey, do you want to go for a walk? It’s a nice night out,” you suggested, hoping he would say yes.

 

Spencer’s eyes sparkled with interest as he replied, “Sure, I’d love to. But I just need to make a call first. I’ll meet you outside in ten minutes?”

 

You nodded, feeling your heart race with anticipation. As you walked outside, the cool night air hit you, and you shivered in response. You wrapped your arms around yourself, trying to keep warm as you waited for Spencer.

 

When he finally emerged from the bar, you felt your heart skip a beat. He looked even more striking in the moonlight, and you couldn’t resist the urge to stare.

 

Spencer caught your gaze and smirked before walking up to you. “Ready to go?”

 

You nodded, still feeling a little nervous and excited at the same time. As you walked, you talked about everything and anything, from your favourite book to your childhood memories. You found yourself sharing things with Spencer that you had never told anyone before, and you couldn’t deny the connection you felt with him.

 

Spencer was different from anyone you had ever met. He was smart, funny, and kind, but also mysterious in a way that made you want to know more. You couldn’t help but feel a little intimidated by him, but also drawn to him like a moth to a flame.

 

“Did I hear you correctly earlier, saying that you’ve written books about the FBI?”

 

“I have. But I’ve never gone to get them published. They are always murder mystery books. But that’s not really what I write.”

 

Spencer’s eyes lit up with interest. “Really? What do you mean that’s not what you write?”

 

“I write typical romance novels. People tend to like them; I mean I’m not famous but I’m not unknown.”

 

Spencer looked at you with a newfound interest. “Romance novels, huh? That’s interesting. What inspired you make the switch from murder mysteries to romance?”

 

You shrugged, feeling a little embarrassed. “I guess it was just a personal preference. I wanted to write about love, and the idea of giving characters happy endings was really appealing to me.”

 

Spencer nodded, seeming to understand. “I can see why that would be appealing. It’s nice to have control over what happens in your own little world, even if it’s just in your writing.”

 

You smiled, feeling grateful for Spencer’s understanding. “Exactly. Plus, I love the idea of creating characters that people can fall in love with. It’s kind of like bring people together in a way, even if it’s just fiction.”

 

Spencer nodded thoughtfully. “I understand that you can’t control love or your own love story in real life. It takes a lot of skill to create characters that people can connect with on that level.”

 

“It takes a lot of skill to work for the FBI.” You say with a giggle.

 

Spencer chuckled, his eyes crinkling at the corners. “I suppose it does. But I’m just doing my job, like anyone else.”

 

You shook your head, feeling a sense of admiration for Spencer. “No, what you do is amazing. You and your colleague risk your lives every day to keep people safe. That’s something truly special.”

 

Spencer looked at you, his eyes softening. “Thank you, Y/N. That means a lot coming from you.”

 

As you continued to walk, you couldn’t help but feel a sense of closeness with Spencer that you had never felt with anyone before. It was as if he could see right through you, past all your insecurities and doubts, and still accept you for who you were.

 

As the night wore on, you found yourself slowing down, wanting to savour every moment with Spencer. You were afraid that once the night ended, you would never see him again.

 

“I’m guessing the case isn’t over yet, so you should probably get back to your hotel so you can get a rest.”

 

Spencer nodded, seeming to understand. “Yeah, we still have a lot of work to do tomorrow. But I don’t want this night to end just yet.”

 

You looked up at him, feeling a little shy. “Me neither.”

Spencer smiled, “Then let’s keep walking. I don’t want to say goodbye to you just yet, Y/N.”

 

Your heart fluttered at his words, and you couldn’t deny the attraction you felt towards his. As you continued to walk, you felt Spencer’s gaze on you, and you couldn’t help but feel a little self-conscious. “Is everything okay, Spencer?”

 

He nodded, his eyes never leaving your face. “Yeah, I’m just trying to figure something out.”

 

You looked at him, feeling a little confused. “What do you mean?”

 

“My friends, the people you saw at the bar, said I should try and not talk about work, and find someone who doesn’t work with us. I thought it was going to be difficult. But then I met you.” Spencer’s voice was low and intense, and you could feel his hot breath on your cheek.

 

You blushed, feeling a little overwhelmed by his sudden confession. “What are you trying to figure out, Spencer?”

 

“What this means. I mean I know what it means, kind off. But how someone so perfect, could just be sitting in a bar that I just so happened to go into. I mean I know the chances, it’s just so strange.”

 

You looked at Spencer, feeling the same way he did. It was as if fate had brought the two of you together, and you couldn’t help but feel grateful for it.

 

“I know what you mean,” you said softly. “It’s like we were meant to meet each other.”

 

Spencer nodded, looking at you with a mixture of awe and admiration. “I don’t want to let this chance slip away.”

 

You felt a surge of desire at his words, and without thinking, you leaned in and kissed him. Spencer responded immediately, his lips moving hungrily against yours.

 

You didn’t want to be cliché, you’re a writer, you’re good with words, but this kiss was magical. It was as though the world around you disappeared, leaving only you and Spencer in your own little bubble of passion and desire. You ran your fingers through his hair, pulling him closer to you as he deepened the kiss.

 

As the kiss ended, you looked into Spencer’s eyes, feeling a sense of contentment wash over you. You knew that this was just the beginning of something special, and you couldn’t wait to see where it would take you.

 

“I don’t want this night to end,” you said softly, feeling a little breathless.

 

Spencer smiled at you, his eyes shining with affection.  “Me neither, Y/N. Let’s not end it just yet then. Also, did you know you actually share less germs with someone if you kiss them, rather than shaking their hands?”

 

You chuckled, feeling a sense of ease with Spencer. “I guess that makes sense. But I don’t think we need an excuse to kiss each other, do we?”

 

Spencer leaned in, his lips brushing against your ear. “No, Y/N. We don’t need an excuse.”

 

“You know for been a member of the FBI and been in a place where you are having a practically rough case, you are pretty trusting.”

 

“Ahh. You see I work with the BAU, which is the behaviour analysis unit, so I read body language and such. I basically profile people, and you don’t seem like you’d murder or kidnap me. So, yes, I am pretty trusting when I can read someone so well.”

 

You smiled at Spencer, feeling a sense of jealousy and admiration for his skills. “That’s really cool. I wish I had your ability to read people like that.”

 

Spencer shrugged, looking a little embarrassed. “It’s just something that comes with the job, I guess. But it can be a double-edged sword sometimes. You start to see the worst in people, and it can be hard to trust anyone.”

 

You looked at him, feeling a sense of sadness at his words. “I’m sorry, Spencer. I can’t imagine how hard that must be.”

 

Spencer smiled at you, his eyes softening. “It’s okay, Y/N. I have good people around me, like you, who remind me that there’s still good in the world.”

 

“You think I’m a good person? You’ve only known me for around 2 hours, and you think I’m a good person. Well, I’m glad I’ve made a good impression on you.”

 

Spencer chuckled, his eyes crinkling in the corners. “Y/N, it doesn’t take long to recognise a good person. And you, my dear, are definitely a good person. I can tell by the way you carry yourself, the way you treat others, and the way you make me feel.”

 

You blushed, feeling a sense of warmth spread throughout your body. “Thank you, Spencer. That means a lot to me.”

 

Spencer leaned in, his lips hovering over yours. “And I want to you feel even better.”

 

He kissed you deeply, his hands caressing your body as he pushed you up against the wall. Spencer’s lips trailed down your neck, leaving a trail of heat and arousal in their wake. You gasped, feeling a sense of pleasure as he nipped and sucked at your skin.

 

“I’m sure someone who works with the FBI cannot get public indecency on their record. Do you want to continue this somewhere else, like your hotel room or my apartment?”

 

Spencer looked up at you, his eyes shining with desire. “My hotel room.”

 

You nodded, realising that the hotel was only two blocks down. You could feel the lust burning between the two of you, and you couldn’t wait to feel his hands on your body.

 

You made it to the hotel in no time at all, your hands already exploring each other’s bodies. Spencer’s lips trailed a burning trail of fire down your neck, and you could yourself shudder in his arms.

 

You pulled open the door to Spencer’s hotel room, turning the lights on as you walked through the doorway. Spencer followed suit; he pulled you closer to him, your hands never leaving your body.

 

Spencer pulled off your clothes slowly, exploring your body with his eyes. You felt a wave of desire wash over you as he looked at your body, and you wanted nothing more than to feel his hands on you.

 

Spencer’s lips were basically attached to your neck, and you could feel desire coursing through your body. You could feel his heartbeat thumping against yours, echoing the same rhythm that was currently coursing through your body.

 

“Do you know people who want to control every aspect of their life, often seek ways to lose control, for other people to control them? A lot of CEOs and bosses will go to professional dominatrixes to help them.”

 

“What are you saying, Spencer? Are you saying you like to be dominated?” You said in a teasing tone.

 

He kind of laughed at your comment.

 

“That’s not what I’m saying at all here. I think you would like to lose control.”

 

“Is that right?”

 

Spencer nodded, looking at you with a devilish smirk. “I think you would like to lose control. To know that you are completely at my mercy.”

 

You gave a short laugh, rolling your eyes. “Yeah, right. Spencer, I don’t think you know me at all.”

 

“I’m good at reading people. You’re a writer, and I bet that you like to control every aspect of your life. You write the plots, you decide the endings, and you feel that you have complete control over your life.”

 

You laughed, “You’re right, that’s me.”

 

“There’s nothing wrong with that, Y/N. And I’m not saying you are wrong for being that way. It’s just that I wonder what you would do if you were completely at the mercy of someone else. Seeing how you like to control everything, I bet you would love for someone to take that control.”

 

You smirked, biting your lip as you stared at him. “Hmmm, I think you might be on to something there.”

 

Spencer shook his head, a wolfish grin spreading across his face. “I wonder what you would do if I took control of you.”

 

“Try me.”

 

“I would love to try you, Y/N.”

 

Spencer’s lips claimed yours, and he pushed you down on the bed, his hands roaming over your body greedily. You moaned into his mouth, your body responding to his touch.

 

You could feel him hardening against you, and you wanted nothing more than to feel him inside of you. He pulled of panties, his mouth trailing a line down your body.”

 

“I want you to know that I’m going to be in control of you, Y/N. And you’re going to like it.”

 

He paused, “Do you want me to control you?”

 

You looked at him, your eyes glinting with desire. “Yes.”

 

Spencer’s eyes were dark with lust, and you could feel yourself getting wetter just from his gaze.

 

“I want you to know I’m going to do whatever I want to you.” He bit you hard on the neck, and you could feel your body tense with desire.

 

“And you’re going to let me.”

 

You nodded, wanting nothing more than his hands on you. He kissed you hard, his hands gripping your hips tightly. You could feel him crawling up your body, his erection rubbing against your wetness.

 

“You’re going to let me, because you’re going to love it.”

 

“I will.”

 

“You’re going to do everything I tell you to.”

 

“Yes.”

 

“You’re going to beg me to fuck you.”

 

“I am?”

 

“Uh huh. And I am going to make you cum over and over, until you’re begging me to stop.”

 

“Please, Spencer.”

 

You gasped as his fingers found your wetness. He pushed two of them inside of you, slowly pumping them in and out. You could feel yourself tightening around him, your hips bucking in sync with his fingers.

 

His lips trailing a burning trail down your body. He could tell how badly you wanted to cum, he was reading you like a book.

 

“Beg me.” Spencer’s eyes were dark with lust.

 

“Please, Spencer. I want to cum”.

 

“I know you can do better than that. Be a good girl, and tell me how badly you want to cum.”

 

“I want to come so fucking badly, please. Please, Spencer, let me cum.”

 

His pace fastened, you moaned at Spencer’s actions and his words. He moved his thumb towards your clit, he pressed down hard. He could feel you tightening even more around him.

 

You were so close to cuming, the anticipation of your orgasm was almost painful. Your pussy was dripping wet, and you could feel the juices flowing down your legs.

 

“I want you to cum for me.”

 

Your mouth dropped open, a loud and crude moan leaving your lips. Spencer’s name followed; you were almost singing it. Spencer couldn’t get enough of this. You looked so beautiful like this; this was all for him and he couldn’t believe he was so lucky to get to see you like this.

 

“That’s it, let it all go.”

 

Your orgasm hit hard. His kept nursing you through it, showering you with praises. His eyes kept looking over every inch of your body. The orgasm shook through you, your body shaking with desire. You felt him slide his fingers out of you, and you could feel your body shaking with desire.

 

He leaned over you, his lips brushing a kiss against your neck. He stood up, he was still fully clothed, and you felt exposed. You lay there, watching him take all his clothes off. It gave you the opportunity to look at his body, which you had already known was amazing, but you could appreciate it even more as you watched him in the dim light. He kicked his pants off and walked towards you.

 

“Spencer” You panted.

 

“I love the way you say my name.” He smirked. “Can you stand up for me?”

 

You gently nodded your head, even though your legs felt a little bit like jelly, you wanted to stand for him. You pushed yourself up off the bed, you stood there, looking at him, your eyebrows shot up when you saw the look on his face. He looked at you like he was going to eat you alive, and that sent a shiver down your spine.

 

“That was only one of many, but I feel like I deserve a reward. Don’t you?”

 

You nodded your head once again.

 

“Okay, I’m glad. Now I want you to be a good girl and get on your knees for me, is that okay?”

 

You nodded your head, your breath quickening.

 

“Good girl, now I want you to take my cock out, but don’t touch it.”

 

You slowly sank to your knees in front of him, watching as his eyes roamed over your body.

 

He felt himself get harder, the look in your eyes made him feel like the king of the world.  

“Take it out.”

 

You heard him moan in appreciation. You slowly pulled down his boxers, watching as he carefully stepped out. You reached out your hand, wrapping your fingers around him.

 

“I didn’t say you could touch it just yet, did I?”

 

“No, sorry.”

 

“Don’t apologize, just tell me you won’t do it again.”

 

“I won’t do it again.”

 

“Good girl.” He smirked. “Now I want you to put my dick into your mouth.”

 

You heard him hiss as you took him into your mouth. He kept looking down at you and you could see the lust in his eyes.

 

You could feel yourself getting wetter, just hearing him moan was enough to drive you wild. He fucked your mouth, and the way he moved in and out, would make anyone cum.

 

“That’s it baby,” he moaned. “I want you to suck my cock until I cum in your mouth.”

Your heart was racing. You could feel his dick twitching in your mouth.

 

You ran your tongue over the head and feeling him shudder under your touch.

 

 “Oh yes, just like that.”

 

“You’re doing so good.” He panted. “I’m so fucking close.”

 

You tried to take him deeper into your mouth, but it was hard.

 

“I’m going to cum.” He moaned.

 

Your mouth filled with his sticky cum. He moaned out loudly, before he pulled himself out of your mouth. You looked up at him, and he smiled down at you.

 

“You look so beautiful like this. I’m so lucky that I will be able to relive this image over and over again.”

 

“I want you to lay on the bed. But do not touch yourself.”

 

You did as you were told. You can’t believe a man this hot was having sex with you, you could barely believe that he knew exactly what to do to you.

 

He climbed on the bed, his kissed you, his tongue fighting for dominance in your mouth. He started to kiss you all the way down your body, your body felt like it was on fire. His mouth finally landed on your clit, his fingers found their way back to your pussy.

 

“I love how wet you are.” He moaned. You could feel the vibrations from his mouth against your clit, making the pleasure even more intense.

 

You were moaning uncontrollably. Your hips were rocking against his face and fingers. You knew you were getting close.

 

“Fuck, I’m going to cum.” You moaned.

 

He kept working his mouth against your clit, and his fingers against your pussy. He knew exactly what you needed.

 

“Come for me baby.” He moaned.

 

Your back arched, you moaned out his name. He moaned against you, the vibrations adding more to your orgasm. He slowed down as your orgasm slowed down. He gently blew on your clit, causing you to squirm.

 

He pulled himself up, kissing you passionately on the lips, his tongue exploring your mouth. His hands glided down your body. You were in total bliss, everything about this man was perfect.

As you thought you were actually in heaven, you heard a phone ringing and Spencer got off the bed. He grabbed his phone and walked into his bathroom. He was in there for a few minutes. He walked out with a sombre look on his face.

 

“I’m so sorry, there’s been a lead in the case, I have to go. You can stay here for the night if you want to, but if you don’t, please leave your number. This can’t be the last time I see you.”

 

You nodded; you felt a wave of sadness wash over your body.

 

“I’ll give you my number, I think I’ll head home. I don’t want this to be the last time I see you either.”

 

You read your number out to Spencer and started to get dressed. He gave you a quick kiss on your cheek and left. You felt hopeful you’d see Spencer again, but it still hurt that you wouldn’t be falling asleep in his arms today.

————————————————————————

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[makwebba]

better than a podium l LN4

summary: lando could've won his first race in silverstone but he ended up not finishing. pairing: lando x gf!reader warnings: mentions of lando crashing and swearing. note: my first formula 1 fan fiction! not my first time writing fan fictions but it has been a couple of years since i wrote something and lately my love for writing is slowly coming back. the pictures are from pinterest and idk who the owners are so if you guys know the owner or if you are the owner, please lemme know :( also no hate on checo but it just kinda make sense cause he's in a red bull idk. dont come for me. anyways, i hope you guys enjoy it!

- lando was leading the race in silverstone, his home race. you could've not been more prouder for your boyfriend, you were certain he was gonna win the race but not until checo hit the rear tyre of lando's car which cause him to spun out and hit the barrier. your heart sank, everything went numb and it felt like the world just stopped. it was a bad crash, you waited for his voice to come through the mclaren headset that's snugged onto your ear. "lando, are you okay, mate?" randy asked through the radio. you can hear him grunt and groan in agony, breaking your heart even further. you hated seeing him like this every time you come and watch him race. what felt like ages, the medical car finally showed up to retrieve him back to the garage. lando didn't even bother making any eye contact with anybody once he got to the garage, not even you. he just went straight back to his driver's room, hearing the door slam behind you. you sighed as you rubbed your face with your hands in frustration. you walked over to where he locked himself in, you didn't even have to see him to feel the tension that was building in the air as you knocked on the door. "lan...?" your voice muffled against the wooden barrier between you and lando. lando's eyes closed shut when he heard your voice behind the door, he always loved how soft spoken you were to him. he hasn't responded back to you as he stayed where he was sat before deciding opening the door for you. there he is. what he once was; a ray of sunlight beaming through the morning sun to becoming the loud rumbling sound of thunder at night. you furrowed your brows as you quickly but gently swift his hand up against yours while you closed the door behind you. "hey..." you whispered as you brought your hand up to his face, searching for his eyes. lando was not the type to cry but boy, he was just on the verge of losing it. you brought him into a tight embrace, your face nuzzled on the crook of his neck and his arms wrapping around your back. he held you tight as you started to hear him sniffle which ached your heart painfully. you had to fight your tears back because he hated seeing you be so empathetic for him whenever he had a bad race. "i was close... so fucking close..." he mumbled, his voice getting choked up. "i know, my love. i know." you slowly pulled away from him as he quickly wiped the tears building up in his eyes with the palm of his hand before it could stream down his face. you rubbed his arms for comfort as you stood before him, you finally managed to see his eyes. oh so beautiful but it was filled with so much anger and pain. "you did so well out there. and i know your fans wanted you to win as much as you do. we all did. but sometimes things just doesn't go our way..." you said, running your fingers through the side of his head, intertwining with his curls. "could never win a race, huh?" he muttered, moving your hand away from him. "i don't know why i got into this sport in the first place. not even good at it." it broke your heart to hear him talk so low about himself. you tilted your head slightly to the side as your brows furrowed when he moved your hand away from him, stopping you from running your fingers through his hair. you didn't let him get away from it when you placed both of your hands on his face, staring directly into his eyes. "you don't have to be a race winner to be a great driver. you are enough." lando looked back into your eyes which eased him a little. he took a deep breath in when his hand found a place down on your lower back, a soft smile appeared on his face which made you smile back at him.

it was that contagious. "in everyone's eyes you're a winner. to me you're a champion." a wave of warmth cruised all over lando's body when you said those words to him. it definitely hit a nerve in his system but in a good way. it didn't take long until lando pulled you in closer to him and placed his lips against yours, gentle and passionate. "i wouldn't know what i would've done if you weren't here..." he said. landonorris and ynusername

liked by mclaren, user1, user2 and 1,233,754 others landonorris shoulda woulda coulda, right? but i’ve got something better than a podium.

the end x

[amirasainz]

Baby!sainz when she’s in a secret relationship and no one knows about it and when she goes to a race everyone is trying to get her attention but she won’t cause she’s glide to her phone and when she takes a nap or goes to sleep they take her phone and find out she’s been in a relationship

(Hope that makes sense)

Don't woory love,it made 100% sense. I hope this is what you imagined. Enjoy reading and let me know if you have any requests.

For the boyfriendI went with Jude Bellingham.

-XoXo

No Part 2!!!!

The secret boyfriend

It was a sunny day at the Barcelona Paddock. The atmosphere was electric, and the weather was perfect for wearing pretty dresses. While many might have assumed the fans were there to see local heroes Fernando Alonso and Carlos Sainz in action, a closer look revealed that most were members of the “I love Amira Sainz” club.

As Carlos and Amira entered the paddock that morning, they were greeted by enthusiastic cheers and the flashing lights of cameras. Carlos instinctively reached out to ensure his little sister was still behind him. When he didn’t feel her hand, his heart skipped a beat. He quickly turned around, searching for her, only to have Amira run straight into his chest. He grabbed her arms to steady her. Before he could ask if she was okay, she looked up and said, “Sorry, Carlito, I didn’t mean to run into you.” She then returned her attention to her phone, engrossed in texting her boyfriend, oblivious to the world around her. Carlos, ever the protective older brother, followed closely to make sure she didn’t trip or bump into anyone else.

What Carlos and the rest of the world didn’t know was that Amira Isabella Camila Sainz Vázquez de Castro had a boyfriend. Jude Bellingham, one of the world’s top football players, was currently competing for England in the Euro Cup. Since they couldn’t spend much time together, Amira and Jude made the most of every free moment by texting and calling each other. Despite his busy schedule, Jude couldn’t resist messaging the most perfect girl in the world. So, when he got hit in the face with a ball during training, while he was busy texting his girl, no one could blame the media team for turning his reaction into a meme.

___________________________________

Throughout the day, the drivers tried to gain Amira’s attention. The first one was Daniel. “Hiya, pretty girl. How ya doing?” he asked with a huge sunny smile. “Hi Danny. I’m alright, and you?” she replied quietly. Although she had turned her body towards him and stopped walking, her eyes remained glued to her phone. Daniel furrowed his eyebrows, noticing how distracted she was. “Hey, I’m good as well. I actually wanted to—” Before he could invite her for breakfast, he was interrupted by the ringtone of her phone. “Sorry, but I really gotta take this. I’ll see you later,” she apologized, giving his arm an apologetic squeeze. He watched as she picked up her phone, a huge smile appearing on her face. Daniel was left perplexed by the whole situation.

The second to give it a shot was Lando. He saw the perfect opportunity to spend some time with her when all the other drivers were busy with media duties. After one of the McLaren mechanics informed him that she was sitting on the pit wall by herself, he grabbed two cherry Cokes and went on his way. When he saw her, she was on a video call with someone. He couldn’t hear exactly what was being said, but he could feel her happiness radiating from her. He slowed down his steps, not wanting to interrupt her. When Amira turned and saw him standing there, she quickly ended her call, not without sending a kiss to the other person. Lando, confused by this gesture, stood frozen in his spot. Amira walked towards him with a little skip in her step. “Lando! I’m so happy to see you,” she greeted him with a sweet kiss on his right cheek. This sweet kiss made Lando forget to ask her about her phone call. Instead, he started complimenting her looks and led her to a more shaded spot, not wanting her to get a heat stroke.

The last one to try to find out who was catching her attention all day was Charles. Due to the heat, the race was delayed, and the drivers spent their spare time in their motorhomes. At the same time, England was playing against Serbia, and Amira was fully engrossed in the match. After hearing the other drivers talk about Amira’s unusual behaviour, Charles decided to see if he could figure out what was going on. He found her in front of the TV, the match already in full swing.

“Bonjour, jolie fille,” Charles greeted her. “Can I sit here?” he asked, gesturing towards the sofa she was sitting on. Her only reply was a distracted “Mhm,” her eyes glued to the screen, following her boyfriend. “So I’ve heard that you’re a bit distracted today. There’s nothing wrong with that, don’t get me wrong. But I just wanted to let you know that if you need someone to talk to, yo—” Before Charles could finish his sentence, Amira let out a joyous scream. “¡Vamos, carajo! ¡Gracias, Santa María! ¡Gracias, Dios! ¡Muéstrales quién es el jefe!” she shouted, flinging herself into Charles’s arms. A flabbergasted Charles held the ecstatic woman in his arms. Carlos, who also heard the scream, immediately ran into the room. “What’s wrong? What happened? I heard yelling, did you hurt yourself?” he asked worriedly. Amira ran into her brother’s arms, placing her hands on his cheeks and turning his face towards hers. “Un gol. Un gol fenomenal, Carlitos. Hoy está que arde,” was all she said before sitting back down. All Charles and Carlos could do was share a confused look with each other. While the two Ferrari drivers shared the look with eahc-other, Amira was over the moon by the goal her boyfriend shot.

____________________________

The match took all of Amira’s energy. In her opinion, the only right thing to do was take a “short nap.” While the young woman had her beauty sleep, the drivers held a quiet meeting in the room next to hers (Carlos’s driver’s room). “What if something is wrong?” asked Lewis. “Why would she smile so much if something were wrong?” countered an annoyed Max. “Oh, so just because you’re the current world champion, you’re also the woman whisperer, or what?” Lando shot back, glaring at Max. Before a fight could break out, Carlos stepped between the two drivers. “Enough. If all you do is fight, you can pack your bags and leave. There’s the door,” Carlos gestured to the door. Charles took them all by surprise when he loudly said, “There’s the door, bitch!” For a second, Carlos and Charles shared an amused look. They truly had the best bond anyone could have.

“You know,” started Oscar, “when my mom feels like my little sister is behaving weird, she always checks her phone. Don’t get me wrong, I’m not saying it’s right. However, it helped her find some problems.” For a moment, all the drivers stopped talking. Before anyone could say anything, Carlos said, “Alright, let’s do it.” “Chilli, you can’t possibly do this. This is an invasion of her privacy,” Charles protested. “Charles, for all we know, she could be buying drugs from the black market. I have to make sure everything is alright.” With that, he and Lando quietly entered Carlos’s driver’s room, leaving a confused Charles behind.

Lando stopped in his tracks when he saw the beauty that is Amira Sainz. There was truly no situation where the woman didn’t look breath-taking. Lando, lost in his thoughts, stumbled when Carlos punched his shoulder. “Lando, if you’re only here to look at my sister, so help me God,” Carlos whispered a warning. His friend moved towards him, helping Carlos unlock Amira’s phone. At first glance, nothing seemed unusual. Her wallpaper was the usual picture of a baby sea otter. As always, there were millions of notifications from social media. After looking through her phone for several minutes, even going as far as opening Pinterest, Lando said quietly, “See, nothing is wrong, Carlos.” “No, there is one last thing I have to check,” Carlos replied. He opened her messages, seeing the usual texts from their mother and sisters.

However, the conversation with “Jude<3” caught his eye. When he opened the chat, he was met with a sea of red hearts. He saw messages from this Jude person saying things like, “Baby, I miss you so much,” “My love, you have my heart,” and “Darling, you look eternal.” The worst part was that his sister, his innocent little sister, seemed to thrive on the compliments. Carlos, feeling a thousand emotions at once, couldn’t stop himself from expressing his shock loudly.

“What the fu—”

[cutielando]

jealousy | l.n.

synopsis: in which he's too jealous for his own good

my masterlist

Ever since the two of you started dating, you have had your fair share of strangers trying to hit on you when you went out, or when you attended races and they didn't know who your boyfriend was.

You never engaged any of them, always telling them who your boyfriend was straight away. Lando knew that.

However, he couldn't help the feeling that built up in the depth of his stomach whenever he saw another man glancing at you, let alone talking to you.

You were attractive, insanely beautiful and he knew how lucky he was that you only had eyes for him and he was aware of the fact that you would never cheat on him with anyone else.

But he just needed to let every single man who thought they had a chance with you that yu were his and only his forever.

Just like now, at the party you were at.

You had decided to dress in a tight-fitting mini dress which hugged your curves perfectly and made you even hotter than you already were in Lando's eyes.

However, once you got to the party, Lando quickly realized that he's not the only one who found your outfit hot.

So did other men.

"What's wrong, baby?" you asked him once you saw how stiff he had become, looking all around him constantly.

"Huh? Oh, nothing" he tried to give you a smile to shrug it off, but you could see right through it.

"Haven't you learned by now that it's no use trying to lie to me?" you teased, wrapping your arms around his neck. "What's going on?"

"I don't like the way some of these men are looking at you" he said, his voice small.

Realization suddenly hit you and all you could was pout at him and smile a little.

"Are you jealous, baby?" you tried not to sound like you were teasing him as to not make him feel worse.

"Pf, no. I was just saying" he explained, all while his arms were tightening their hold on your waist.

"You know you don't have to worry about anything, love. You're the only one for me, I don't care about anyone else. I only love you" you declared and kissed him, feeling his shoulder untense gradually.

"I know, I know. I love you too" he said against your lips, suddenly feeling much more relaxed.

You secretly loved it when he got jealous, it would make you feel all warm inside knowing he loved you so much he hated it when other men even thought about having you.

Lando, not so much.

♡♡♡♡♡

The McLaren garage was buzzing with excitement and energy once again. You loved coming here when you could attend Lando's races.

The entire team loved you, you had a really close relationship with John, with the engineers and also with Zak. He saw you and Lando as practically his kids, loving the way Lando had been performing ever since you started dating and you could attend races.

However, there was also someone else that you got along with that Lando didn't particularly like.

Oscar.

Despite the fact that he knew Oscar had a girlfriend, he still couldn't help it when he saw you laughing at his jokes or talking to Oscar instead of him.

When he would be busy getting ready for a race or he would have a meeting with his engineers, you would hang out with Oscar most of the time or his girlfriend when she would accompany him.

One weekend, seeing as Oscar's girlfriend hadn't been able to come and Lando left you for a meeting with Zak, you figured passing the time talking to your boyfriend's teammate wouldn't hurt.

Big mistake.

"How are you settling in?" you asked the young aussie, knowing how big of a transition into the sport was.

"I'm okay, it's been an absolute dream. The team makes it easier, especially Lando, showing me the ropes and all that" he explained.

You nodded, glad that Lando was of help to the young driver.

"Want me to let you in on a secret?" you whispered, leaning closer to him.

He nodded, his eyes twinkling with anticipation.

"I think you might be his favorite teammate alongside Carlos" you whispered, and his eyes widened.

The fans loved the two of them, sometimes comparing them to a close second to Lando and Carlos, a pairing that will remain legendary.

Seeing as Lando had always been the junior driver and kind of the little brother, it was endearing to see him in the role of the senior driver and big brother to Oscar.

As you were laughing at something Oscar had said, Lando had finished his meeting with Zak and made his way back to where he had left you, seeing you laughing with his teammate.

He knew, deep down, that there was nothing more to it. But his feelings got the better of him in that moment and he couldn't help but feel a pressure in his chest, gnawing at his heart.

"What's going on?" he made his presence known by plopping down on the little couch next to you, immediately wrapping his arms around your waist and putting his head on your shoulder, glaring daggers at poor Oscar.

"Oscar was just keeping me company while you were in the meeting" you reached behind you and started running your hand through Lando's curls, knowing it was something that always calmed him down.

"And now I was just about to leave and look for Zak, so" Oscar said and excused himself, already knowing that if looks could kill, he would have been a dead man walking.

Lando glared at him as he walked away from them, sighing in relief once he was out of sight.

You turned around in your boyfriend's arms and chuckled, shaking your head as you pressed a kiss to his cheek.

"Jealous much?" you asked, your tone teasing.

"Me? Pfff, I don't know what you're talking about" he was avoiding eye contact, which furthermore confirmed your suspicions.

"Babe, you have nothing to be jealous of. Oscar is just a friend, you know that" you weren't mad, not in the slightest.

You loved the idea of Lando caring so much about you that he would worry. However, you couldn't help but feel a little amused at times when this would happen.

"I know, but I can't help it sometimes" he shrugged, burying his head in the crook of your neck.

"You're too cute for your own good, Lando Norris, you know that" you giggled, his curls tickling your skin.

"I know, but you love me anyway" 

"I do, very much so"

He lifted his head from your neck and leaned in, capturing your lips with his.

Even though he got jealous from time to time, you wouldn't change it for the world.

You and your jealous boy.

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[vncannyvalleygrrl]

Charlie Dompler Headcanons

includes general, dating, and nsfw headcanons in that order (mdni)

General

He had an interesting childhood. His mom and dad weren't in the picture a lot, so most of the time he stayed with his batshit Uncle or his grandparents. His grandpa died when he was young, but the memories he does have with him are very fond ones.

Him and his Uncle are super close to each other. When he was a kid, he would go dirt biking, hunting, fishing... all sorts of stuff with him. If they weren't family, they would 100% be friends. Only recently though has his Uncle found his love of cars (and hitting pedestrians).

Charlie used to be a massive smoker/stoner all throughout high school. He quit recently, but he occasionally lights up a cigarette or a blunt just to calm down after a stressful day of work.

One of the things his grandma taught him was how to crochet, and while he isn't very good at it he can crochet the hell out of granny squares.

Holds a grudge against every peanut company because peanuts killed his grandma. Straight up glares at any bag of peanuts he sees in a store or in public.

Whenever he sleeps his arms and legs kick around like a dog. Wakes up with random bruises and in the weirdest positions because of it.

Originally joined up with Smiling Friends while he was trying to stop smoking all the time. In high school, he wanted to be a semi-truck driver, but he changed his plans when he went through a massive depressive episode. He decided from then on that he wanted to help others as much as possible to improve their life, using the tips and tricks he gathered to improve his own situation.

He originally met Pim seven years ago when he first started working at Smiling Friends. This is the longest friendship he's ever held, and he secretly wishes they met sooner.

Thunder thighs *chews him up like gum*

Total sleeper build. When he's standing normally and just chilling he looks like a blob of yellow fat, but when he flexes his bicep or his thigh you can really see the muscles.

Charlie is the kind of person that hates being in drama of any kind, but will gladly watch someone else's drama unfold in front of him from a distance. This man cannot mind his own business for the life of him.

Snores like a chainsaw.

He was raised religious, but now he's only catholic when it's convenient. When he's in a life or death scenario, he'll pray and ask for forgiveness, but we all saw where he went in the season one finale.

Dating Him

sorry zoey

Dating him feels like that moment when you wake up with your partner's arms around you. The air around you is cold but you feel comfy under the covers and you juusstt want to sleep for five more minutes... He's just a super chill guy to be around, and that only multiplies when you date him.

Charlie is a portable heater. Puts an arm around you when he sees you're cold. Use his hands as a glove PLEASE he will fall in love with you again.

Loves it when you wear his clothes. Bonus points if it smells like him.

He wants to cook for you! He can only cook mac and cheese but he's really good at it.

Dates at fast food joints, chilling at each other's places, watching movies on the couch, etc. Gifts things like jewelry, video games (if you like playing them), and clothes. Prefers to give things that are practical to your life.

Like stated previously, Charlie tends to kick and shift around the bed when he's sleeping alone, but when he's taking a nap with you he holds onto you like a monkey.

If you sit down on the couch, he lays his head on your shoulder. If you're sitting down on a chair, he leans by your side. Super affectionate but denies it at every chance. The most PDA you'll get out of him is hand holding, maybe a few smooches if he's feeling frisky.

Gets confrontational when he feels jealous. He sees a guy staring at you in public? Either hold him back or hold the camera because it's not ending pretty.

His apartment is literally so pathetic. His mattress is on the floor in the corner, the only table he has is reserved for his gaming laptop and a place for food, his microwave barely works. For the love of God please help him improve his living space.

Has you two together as his phone background, can't help but smile when he gets a text from you.

🚨 NSFW 🚨

Poor guy gets horny so easily. Accidentally brush your ass against him trying to get something? Already semi-chubbed. Start kissing him when you're cuddling and you're a little too firm with your kisses? Hard as a rock. Wear one of his dirty shirts and nothing else? You might as well just bend over.

That being said, he's super into fucking you while wearing clothes. He likes seeing you naked, but something about having sex while wearing clothes makes him feel dirty and he loves it.

Absolutely fucks while wearing his cross necklace. Sorry but it's hot.

Lowkey into semi-public stuff. Obviously wouldn't want to get either of you into trouble, but he wouldn't mind a quick blowjob in a bathroom stall or a car.

Uncircumcised.

One time he tried to shave his balls and it did not end well. Still cringes every time he looks at a razor because of it. Has an absolute bush but he'll trim it when it gets bad.

Prefers to have actual sex and receiving head. Doesn't mind giving you oral, but be patient if you have a dick. He has a bad gag reflex. Besides that he's up for almost anything.

Super sensitive nipples when aroused. It took you awhile to realize this (mostly because he's embarrassed about it), but now it's like your secret weapon. Gets him going when you kiss them.

Gets rougher when he's pissed, leaving bruises and hickeys on your body. Feels bad about it but internally loves it.

Less lenient on using protection, especially if you take birth control. He's had a vasectomy, so he doesn't really think about it much. He will use condoms if you get nervous about it though.

He is a proud ass and thigh man. Especially loves stretch marks, he thinks they make you look hotter.

[01zfan]

housequake | j. sc

soccer player!sungchan x cheerleader!reader | 6.2k words

contains: house party, drug mention, random idols mentioned for world building, sex but no penetration (HEHE)

housequake: during the party | after the party

you could feel the sidewalk underneath the soles of your feet. your cheering shoes weren’t meant to be on anything other than synthetic turf and a gymnasium floor. you could practically feel the expensive material of your shoes wearing down as they rubbed against the concrete. 

you shouldn’t have been out in the cold weather. it was a fools february, the approach to spring should’ve brought warmer weather but instead it still felt like winter. the fact that you had to cheer in this weather outside was insane, but it was even more insane that your team chose to stand outside to do drugs. the sweats you threw on before jumping in karina’s car did nothing for you, the frigid night air piercing right through the material. your girls all thought the same, clumped together on the sidewalk like penguins. 

the team stayed together in a huddle the same way you guys did at games. the only difference that instead of pom poms your girls passed around a cigarette, a joint, and a small baggie of something you wouldn’t be taking. each time the cigarette was offered you shook your head. your team never pressured you to take anything but it was strange for you to be so straight edge. you tried it a long time ago like most people your age did when the chance arose. but every time you took a puff of anything it just didn’t feel right. you hid your avoidance of drugs and nicotine under the guise of strict parents, but you just didn’t have a taste for it.

you had been on the team long enough to see various teammates on their benders and tolerance breaks. it was like an involuntary D.A.R.E. program, seeing the effect drugs and alcohol had on your teammates. you remember seeing karina and ningning come to practice with shades on and they moved slowly the whole time. you also remember several people on your team being gone for periods of time. the reason was always a vacation, but you learned early on that was a code word for rehab. you never thought you were better than them, you had your own fair share of self destructive tendencies. 

when ryujin offered you her vape you shook head, nestling further into your varsity jacket. the jacket was bulky but still failed to keep you warm.

“you sure?” ryujin asks.

you nod and ryujin shrugs her shoulders before taking another hit. you’re confused how ryujin isn’t shivering from only wearing the teams hoodie. karina looks over from her spot in the cluster to ryujin and her vape.

“nobody wants a hit of that mango shit.” karina laughs.

she passed the cigarette to ningning. ningning laughs after taking a drag, fake passing it to ryujin.

“smoke a cigarette or joint like a real woman” ningning joked.

everyone in the huddle laughed, including ryujin. the smoke came out of her mouth in a cough, the joke catching in her throat. you laughed with your team too, loving the dynamic your team has set. nothing beat the bonding you had with your team outside of the house parties, away from the loud music where it was just you guys. you enjoyed this part more than the parties itself. another cold breeze runs through your group and you shake again. you loved your girls, but you felt like you were going to freeze to death if you stayed outside any longer. you were grateful to see the joint and cigarette gone and the baggie had disappeared too. soon you’d be back in the heat of shotaro’s place surrounded by warm bodies.

just as karina’s cigarette was coming to its end, a car pulled up to the curb. karina turned to face the car and the rest of the team followed her lead, looking to see who it was. you only had to take a single look before you knew, turning to face the huddle to try and hide your body.

eunseok in the driver’s seat came out first. he was followed by the back doors opening. anton, sohee, seunghan, and wonbin came out one by one, complaining about the lack of room. sungchan came out last, opening the passenger side and trailing behind the group. 

“the guests of honor are here.” yunjin said mockingly.

yunjin put out her cigarette on the concrete while the rest of the team made sounds of acknowledgement. 

your team tried their best to seem annoyed by the soccer team, but everyone knew it was a facade. just like in all the highschool movies, a majority of the cheerleading team had something with a majority of the soccer team. there was even some overlap in some cases—although this was vehemently denied by both parties. you were sure members of your team were currently secretly seeing boys on the soccer team. you saw the quick looks minjeong and wonbin exchanged, or how anton tried his best to talk to yunjin. their fling from two summers ago still shook you to your core when you thought about it.

to your knowledge, you were the last one on your team that had avoided being woo’ed by the players on the soccer team. it was definitely hard, especially because it was sungchan that had caught your attention. he was the dependable captain of the team, leading them through a flawless season. each time they put him on the field he won, eventually making him the youngest captain they’ve ever had. sungchan succeeded off the field too, involved in the top ten percent of his class. it was almost unfair how perfect he was, but it was even more unfair that you had to pretend like you didn’t want him.

sungchan’s attention went to you first. you could feel his eyes burning holes through your varsity jacket, waiting for you to turn around and acknowledge him. you caught him just in the last moment, seeing him clear shotaro’s cement steps with one lunge. the other boys made it much more obvious that they were trying to catch the cheerleaders attention, some of them even stopping to talk to your group.

“do you have another?” eunseok asked, pointing to karina’s cigarette.

“not for you.” karina said.

the cheerleaders laughed and karina gave eunseok a smirk before dropping the cigarette to the curb to stomp it out. eunseok smiled back at karina, hands tucked into his letterman jacket. you knew that eunseok was even more straight edge than you and was just searching for an excuse to speak to karina. you looked between the two of them, the tension so thick you felt like you were intruding on a personal moment. 

you turned your head to follow sungchan, watching him walk to the door of shotaro’s house. you saw him hug his best friend before following him inside, disappearing behind the closed front door. you suddenly really wanted to go back inside. you shifted on your heels and made eye contact with ryujin, the only one of your teammates that wasn’t chatting with one of the soccer players. you and ryujin both flicked your heads towards shotaro’s door at the same time.

ryujin nods and slips her vape into her sweatpants pocket, walking through the huddle of your distracted teammates. you two don’t even bother telling your team where you are going, the words would be drowned out in the conversations and intense stares. 

you and ryujin giggle about your team while walking through the lawn. you walk quickly through the trimmed grass, trying to get out of the cold as quick as possible.

“they pretend like they hate those boys until they come around.” ryujin says.

“to be fair, you’re the same way with chaeryeong.” you say.

ryujin is quiet for a moment and you think you might’ve struck a nerve. chaeryeong and ryujin have had an on-again-off-again relationship for as long as you can remember. one day they’re madly in love the next they can’t stand eachother. you had lost track of where they were at now, but you were sure it was off currently because ryujin hated coming to parties alone. you’re lucky ryujin found the humor in your comment, her vaporized laugh coming out in a cloud as she shook her head. 

”you got me there,” ryujin pauses on the porch and you stop with her. you see her take out her vape again and you fight the urge to ask her to smoke inside. “i think she’s here at the party tonight.” ryujin said.

ryujin takes a hit of her vape before she looks at you. she eyes you up and down before smirking and blowing out the smoke into the night.

“what about you, huh?” ryujin asks.

her smile only intensifies seeing you suddenly avoid her eye contact, looking past ryujin to focus on shotaro’s trimmed hedges.

“i don’t know what you’re talking about.” you say shyly.

ryujin tsks and pokes your chest, bringing your attention back to her.

“don’t act like the team doesn’t see it.” ryujin takes another pull from her vape. “you and the captain song kang—”

“sungchan.” you correct.

ryujin gives you a straight-faced expression.

“that’s what i said.” ryujin says.

you nod your head, not in the mood to start an argument with ryujin. she shrugs her shoulder and looks for her next words.

“anyways. i see how you two look at eachother. you just need to get it over with already.” ryujin says. 

“i don’t know what you’re talking about.” you say coyly.

“you don’t know shit apparently. you don’t do drugs and you don’t fuck, i don’t know why you’re a cheerleader.” ryujin remarks.

you look at ryujin and crack a smile, ryujin does the same. a second later you are both laughing, so hard that your chests hurt. ryujin almost chokes on her laughs and you hit her back, all while still laughing.

when you both gather your senses and the tears are wiped, ryujin looks at you expectantly. you realize she hasn’t let the topic go, you sigh heavily and look down at your feet. your pristine white shoes have dirt stains on them now.

“i just don’t want to be one of those stereotypes you know. and i know that the soccer team fools around.” you say casually.

ryujin understands what you mean, tilting her head and nodding as she recalls all the instances of the cheerleading team and the soccer team mingling.

“i understand where you’re coming from i really do. but don’t you want to try it? just once?” ryujin asks.

you can’t lie and say you hadn’t thought about it. you felt the stares from sungchan, when he’d walk past you to go on the field or when you’d cheer for him on the sidelines. you had moments of your own, eyeing sungchan while he was at practice, admiring the way he commanded his team and how much they respected him. you had moments less innocent too, mainly during the practices that were held during the summer. sungchan had a body that made you dizzy, six pack and toned body brought from being a multidisciplinary athlete. you started finding reasons to walk by the gym in your school, just to see sungchan weight training with his teammates. 

so in reality you thought about it a little too much. you just shrug your shoulders and ryujin copies you, laughing at how bad you are at hiding everything.

“let’s go inside.” ryujin says.

“thank god.” you exclaim.

ryujin laughs at you as she heads to the front door, opening it with quickly.

the party inside is very different from the small sparse groups that hang out outside. the party rages inside of shotaro’s place, music being drowned out by endless chatter. you’re nearly shoulder to shoulder with your classmates, many of them you did not see at the soccer game. anything for an excuse to party. it’s never been quite to this extent before, it seems like the whole entire student body is crammed in shotaro’s house. ryujin taps your shoulder and points up the stairs. you see shotaro on the landing, scanning the crowd below him over and over again. you see sungchan next to him with a bear in his hand, leaning over the railing. him and shotaro are talking to eachother but both seem preoccupied, shotaro watching the party and sungchan watching you. you feel you body suddenly get hotter, and ryujin looks to you and sungchan before laughing.

“you two are ridiculous.” ryujin says.

you see shotaro follow a drunk couple as they try for an unlocked door, and you see sungchan make his way down the stairs. ryujin stopped paying attention to sungchan a long time ago, her eyes now fixed on chaeryeong who’s getting chatted up by someone at the bar. ryujin doesn’t tell you goodbye before heading towards her girlfriend, leaving you all alone. you can’t come up with an excuse to leave when sungchan approaches you, just you and him in the middle of this house party.

“good job cheering today.” sungchan says awkwardly. 

the beer in his hand has barely been sipped on, you think it might just be there for show. you nod you head and look up at him, trying to figure out what to say.

“good job playing.” you say back.

sungchan nods and rocks back on his feet. why is it suddenly so awkward when other people aren’t around? you and sungchan managed to keep it friendly when your two teams would interact, but now he stood by you and you felt your face heating up and silently begging ryujin to come and save you. 

just as you were looking to see where your friend went, someone coming down from the stairs loses their balance and bumps into you. it sudden and catches you off guard, almost causing you to fall onto sungchan. he holds you upright with just one hand, scowling at the person who bumped into you until they apologize. you turn to stare at the person too until they disappear into the crowd again.

“you alright?” sungchan asks.

he looks genuinely worried as he continues to rub your shoulder. it was nothing more than a bump, the grip he has on you arguably did more damage than the person who fell into you. but you brush it off, there’s no reason to be mad over an accident.

“yeah. i just kind of hate parties.” you say.

“me too.” you look up and see sungchan take a tiny sip of his beer. he hesitates for a moment before leaning down to look at you. “do you want to go somewhere quiet?” he asks.

you can’t stop your eyes from widening at his bold request. you do want to go somewhere quiet but that doesn’t always mean you should. but you think about your conversation outside with ryujin and the conversations your team are still having with the soccer team outside. you’re sure at this point everyone in your life has had their fun except for you. maybe falling into a stereotype won’t be the end of the world. you point to the beer in sungchan’s hand and he gives it to you. you take a sip and it’s better than you thought it would be.

“yeah. let’s go.” you say smiling.

sungchan looks a little surprised himself, pointing up the stairs. he lets you go in front so he can lead you through the crowd, a hand between your two shoulder blades. on your way up the stairs you make eye contact with ryujin who is chatting up chaeryeong. ryujin’s eyes widen when she sees sungchan and elbows chaeryeong so she can see it too. the two give you a thumbs up seeing sungchan follow closely behind you and you try to seem unbothered, failing to hide your big smile.

once you and sungchan make it to the landing he still leads you further down the hallway. you pass by the bathroom, having to squeeze past the line that has formed and pass another door. sungchan knocks on the door and presses his ear to it to see if he can hear anything. a moment later he opens it for you and you walk in.

you can tell instantly that you’re in shotaro’s room. his desk lamp is the only thing that illuminates the space, giving you just enough vision to navigate. his room is clean, with a made bed and no visible messes. you focus on everything else in the room before you turn to sungchan, who has placed his beer on shotaro’s desk.

“is it okay that we are in here?” you ask.

the last thing you need is for shotaro to interrupt you.

“yeah, it’s cool.” sungchan says.

sungchan navigates the room like he’s been here before. you wonder if he has been in this situation with other girls before, sneaking them away during a party to fuck them in his bestfriends room. you try to not think about it too much, if sungchan is using you than you are also using him. the way he is acting around you makes you wonder if he’s done this before. sungchan is almost too afraid to approach you, still standing by the door. his hands are tucked into the pocket of his jeans, and his leather jacket hangs loosely on his body. you want to ask sungchan why he doesn’t wear his varsity jacket like his teammates do, only putting it on on game days. he always chose the black leather jacket first, but you weren’t complaining.

“we don’t have to do anything.” sungchan still stands in the door. “i just wanted to be alone with you.” he says.

sungchan doesn’t know why he tried so hard to get you alone. he doesn’t know why he approached you in the first place. you have been just out of sungchan’s reach for as long as he has known you. the introverted backspot of the team, the hidden member that kept everyone safe. he admired the way you always caught the flyer, or how you called out whatever formation you were going to do. karina was the leader but the show couldn’t be ran without you. 

sungchan wanted to tell you this so many times, but you always kept yourself hidden amongst your girls. sungchan admits that he could’ve came up to you at anytime, but there was something holding him back. maybe the embarrassment of being rejected. he didn’t know how to perceive the looks you gave him, you were elusive to sungchan like an urban myth. sungchan had heard the locker room stories exchanged by his teammates. talks of you being pursued were shut down immediately by sungchan, for reasons he couldn’t quite pinpoint. he could live with just stealing glances of you at games and at school, but he could absolutely not live with the idea of you being hit on by his teammates.

“what if i want to do something?” you said.

sungchan tore his eyes from the floor to look at you. sungchan felt like he understood you even less, the way your demeanor suddenly changed. sungchan watched you take off your varsity jacket and throw it on shotaro’s bed. sungchan watches your every move as you walk over to him. you hold out your hand and sungchan rips out his hand to put his hands in the palm of your hands. 

sungchan is still trying to figure out what is happening when you look up at him. he sees your lidded eyes, the way you bite your lip and grip his hand a little tighter. he hopes you’re nervous too, it might make him feel better about the way his heart beats in his chest.

“this is just a one time thing.” you say.

his mouth is dry when he nods his head. for the first time of the night, it’s you leading sungchan when you grab his hand and lightly pull him. sungchan feels like his feet are glued to the floor until you pull him again. he lets you guide him to the trunk that sits at the foot of shotaro’s bed. 

sungchan sits on the trunk and watches as you kick off your shoes, followed by your sweatpants and panties. it leaves you in just your cheer skirt and socks. he scoots back on the trunk slightly to give you more room. sungchan loves feeling your hands go to his shoulders as you climb on top of him, sitting on his lap.

”i know how you soccer players get down.” you say.

“oh yeah?” sungchan’s large hands on your knees ran up your leg until he makes it to the end of your skirt. he’s hesitant, half expecting you to change your mind. he needs to hear your voice, he wishes he could get you to tell him what to do. “tell me how do we get down?”

sungchan seemed preoccupied, fiddling with the end of your skirt as you sit on his lap. he keeps fanning the end of it out to let the material naturally splay out against his thigh. his hand presses the fabric into his denim, loving the way they look side by side.

sungchan lets his hands travel up the end of your skirt until he makes it to your waist. he lets them rest there only for a moment before experimentally pressing his fingers into your skin. he looks up to you when he has a hold on you he’s satisfied with.

your hands that rest on his shoulders pinch the fabric of his white tee. you try not to arch your back to sungchan to seem so desperate, but its like your chests are connected by a tightening string. your breasts are so close to touching sungchan’s chest it makes you sigh.

“my team tells me all the stories.” you say absentmindedly.

sungchan nods his head like he’s listening before he brings you down on his lap. you pull in a quick and small breath when you feel his dick straining through his jeans, pressing into your clothed heat. the only thing that separates him from you is the thin crotch of your cheer skirt. sungchan has a smirk on his face, happy he has an effect on you.

“what stories?” sungchan asks innocently.

you suddenly can’t think of anything when sungchan’s hands start moving your hips to lightly grind against his length. it’s gentle and slow, but you can feel the way he twitches against you. the sensation is intoxicating to say the least. you actively have to go through memories of group facetime calls and text messages to pull up an example. each time you have it sungchan presses you a down a little harder, forcing you to repeat the process in your mind.

“hooking up. sharing girls, you know.” you say. 

“mhm.” sungchan hums.

your words are hesitant and drawn out when you feel a new sensation against you. sungchan bites his bottom lip when he creeps his hand underneath the waistband of your mini skirt. 

he has to adjust his hand once he makes it inside your skirt, lifting his arm to push his hand into the gap. you gasp when he finds your clit and sungchan lets out a tiny sound himself.

“i’m not a fan of hookups,” sungchan wedges his hand into your skirt further, and smiles when he can feel your arousal on the tips of his fingers. “definitely not a fan sharing.” sungchan says.

you let out a hmph in denial and sungchan tilts his head. his hooded eyes light up from you indirectly saying he’s a liar. even when he has you in such a compromising position you are still defiant, holding onto whatever typecast you assigned him to. for a moment sungchan debates commenting on the sound you made. but he knows for a fact it will lead to an argument that could potentially lead to him being alone in shotaro’s room with a raging boner. so sungchan opts to lightly press the pads of his fingers to your slit—he can talk to you about his standpoint on dating later.

sungchan loves the way you lean your head back and arch your body into him without him even having to penetrate you. his hand on your hip also becomes useless, you starting rotating your hips and pressing yourself into his dick all on your own. sungchan moves his hand to your back to give you stability, egging you on to become more reckless with your hips.

“you’re so beautiful.” sungchan says. 

“so are you.” you say.

sungchan laughs at how fast you respond too him, letting anything you think of fall from your lips. he pulls back from you only for a moment to discard himself of his shirt, loving the way your eyes rake down his upper body. he doesn’t move to help you with yours until your hands start messing with the bottom hem of your tee. sungchan is distracted by your chest, sucking on the top of your breast that isn’t covered by your bra. you lift yourself up and sungchan tries his best to unclasp your bra but his shaking hands fail him multiple times and your moans distract him. 

“can you cum just from this?” sungchan asks in amazement.

“i think so,” you look up from where your hips meet to look sungchan in his eyes. he looks up a beat later than you, his eyes wide from dismay. “can you?” you ask.

sungchan looks down again at your bare pussy and his dick. the crotch covering of your skirt has been pushed away by sungchan long ago, letting him see all of you. even in shotaro’s dimly lit room he can see how its glistening from your slick. he didn’t know a sight like this existed outside of the scripted scenes of shitty pornos. but here sungchan was, sitting on a trunk in his friends room getting high off of grinding on your labia like he’s never been intimate with someone before. sungchan nods his head, tightening his hand that holds your body.

“i think so.” sungchan responds.

you nod your head and change the way you move your hips. you spread your legs a little wider, and sungchan moves his hand on your inner thigh to the other side, pressing your thighs together. you fight against his hand just to see if he will do next. you’ve heard tales of the head pushers on the soccer team, and you want to see where sungchan falls on the spectrum. you see the competition in his eyes when you push back against his hand, but a second later sungchan gives in, letting you control how far open your legs are. you smile at sungchan before collapsing your thighs, moving them so close that your knees touch. the angle is awkward and a little painful, but the way sungchan gasps and tilts his head back makes you ignore the discomfort.

you end up becoming perched on sungchan’s legs, and you can feel them hardening underneath you to give you stability.

“thanks.” you say meekly. 

you can feel your face getting hot at your sudden gratitude. sungchan only smiles in acknowledgment, tilting your face up to peck your lips.

“so cute.” sungchan says.

the plush skin of your thighs surround sungchan’s length. he looks down to see his tip peaking out from in between your thighs. he loves seeing the way your thighs give around his hard dick perfectly and the way they jiggle when sungchan thrusts upwards. your whole body moves in tandem with his thrusts. your breasts bounce each time sungchan pulls in and the desperate sound of your skin making contact has you digging your hands into sungchan’s triceps. the pain doesn’t hurt sungchan, only causes him to flex harder and rut between your hips harder.

you have to move a hand from sungchan’s tricep to his shoulder to gain more stability. he’s slowly losing himself in front of your eyes, becoming hastier with his hips. suddenly sungchan gets ahold of himself, looking at you for approval.

“is this enough for you?” sungchan asks.

you let sungchan bring you closer and closer to him, until your chests touch and his dick fits in the space where your thighs meet your hips. his dick is covered by your skirt now, and you waste no time folding the fabric so your can see all of him.

“fuck.” sungchan says. 

each time sungchan thrusts upwards he bumps your clit, causing you to jolt forward. sungchan brings his hands down to press your ass as he backs up on the trunk he’s sitting on. the new amount of space lets you change your position to one more comfortable. you are completely seated on sungchan’s lap as he thrusts upwards, dick stuffed between your folds. 

“oh my god.” you cried. 

sungchan brought one hand from your ass to your clit, slightly lifting you upwards as he moves you. sungchan’s strength when it comes to handling you makes you feel small in the best way, and his athleticism shines through his stamina. you have to stop yourself from asking sungchan to forget about the condom and to just fuck you on his friend’s bed. but the school year just started, you will have plenty of time to properly fuck sungchan. or to have him fuck you. whichever works. 

he’s able to satiate you by spitting on his fingers before bringing it down to your clit, stimulating your bundle of nerves quickly. sungchan stops focusing on thrusting to rotate his fingers on you. he’s so close to being inside of you that you seize around nothing. sungchan presses on your ass and pouts. you close your eyes from the euphoria.

“i can feel you clenching around nothing, baby.” sungchan coos.

you can’t speak anymore, only nod your head and whine when sungchan starts rotating his hand the other way. sungchan kisses your eyelids and you open them. he stares at you intensely and picks up the speed.

“next time can i fuck you?” sungchan asks.

you nod your head. you start lifting your hips and pulling away slightly, the stimulation becoming too much.

“say it.” sungchan says. 

you lock your arm behind sungchans head to pull him closer to you. something about sungchan having to look up to you made you think you were playing the dominant role, but with a simple order you feel yourself folding to become submissive for him. it makes your head spin the way sungchan teases you by pressing into your clit harder.

“yes.” you whine.

sungchan is amused by the way your hips jerk pitifully when he presses a little harder. 

“yes what?” sungchan asks.

he lowers his head further to press his lips to your collarbone. his teeth grazes the sensitive skin and you preen your neck to give him more access.

“yes. you can—oh my god. yes you can fuck me.” you cry.

your mini skirt falls back down over sungchan’s hand and you both look at it. the way sungchan’s hand aggressively moves underneath the splay of your skirt, the tiny wet spot his leaking tip leaves. you lean forward into the crook of sungchan’s neck, whining just for him to hear. his arm that wraps around your back grips your side, so hard you know it’ll leave a bruise.

the view of your ruined mini skirt gives sungchan the vigor to start thrusting upwards again. it’s easier with the hold you have on him, and he grunts into your ear with each rut. sungchan looks forward to the next time it’s just you and him alone in private. it would only come after he takes you on a nice date and asks you to be his girlfriend, of course—he’s a gentleman. but for now he will selfishly chase his pleasure after he makes sure you cum.

“sungchan.” you cry into his ear.

“i know. i know.” sungchan sympathizes.

your nails dig into his skin and your whines hit an octave that they barely make a sound anymore, just leaving you with a slightly open mouth and a heaving chest. sungchan decided then and there that he needs to hear that sound everyday for the rest of his life. 

you can’t even finish telling sungchan you’re going to cum when it happens, your body shaking in his hold. sungchan follows closely behind you, your cum giving his dick more lubrication to slip between your folds. his tip pokes one more time through your hips when your supple skin ripples around him. sungchan quickly lifts your cheer skirt so you can see what you do to him. 

“fuck” sungchan curses.

you pull your body from his just in time. sungchan’s cum gets on your thighs and dribbles down the middle, getting onto his thighs. he continues to curse and moan, hips stilling as his grip on your side tightens. the euphoric view of him below you has you almost ready to go again. you start squeezing your thighs around his length, and you bring your hand to massage his sticky tip. sungchan has to shake his head and hold your wrist to stop you, too sensitive to be touched. 

when sungchan comes down he has to let out a big huff of air, realizing he came from not even being inside of you. he also realizes that he made a complete mess of your thighs, and he still has a death grip on your cheer skirt to keep it from getting stained.

“holy shit my bad,” sungchan loosens his grip on your cheer skirt, putting the wrinkled fabric in your hand. “hold this let me get you something.”

sungchan guides you to sit on the trunk while he gets up. he wastes no time tucking himself back into his underwear and jeans, not caring about the droplets of cum on himself. he looks around shotaro’s room for anything to wipe you with. sungchan ends up grabbing. damp towel hanging on the back of shotaro’s chair.

while sungchan cleans you up you focus on the top of his head. now that the moment is over it is awkward, you don’t know what to say when sungchan is done with wiping your skin. he doesn’t know either, looking at your closed thighs and the mini skirt you have clutched in your hand.

“did i get it all?” sungchan asks.

when he looks up at you his ears burn a bright red, and you have to quickly look away. you suddenly can’t look at sungchan in the face, focusing on random things in shotaro’s room. you look at handle of his closet when you nod your head yes.

“okay. good.” sungchan says awkwardly. 

he grabs your panties and sweatpants off the ground and helps you into them, guiding your feet through the openings. you don’t know why you feel like you’re drained of all your energy, you think actual sex with sungchan would put you into a coma. the way he is extremely gentle when putting your sweatpants back on you makes your heart want to explode in your chest. somehow this is more intimate than when he was fucking himself between your thighs. 

when sungchan pulls you up from the trunk it takes a moment to regain stability in your legs. they feel like jello underneath you and you wobble for a second. when you’re upright sungchan does the same with your bra and shirt, helping you into the garments. your shirt smells like him now, and you keep catching whiffs of the smoky vanilla fragrance sungchan wears. he holds onto you until you give him a quick smile that lets you know you’re alright. you hate that he lets go a little too fast, hands clenched at his side. 

“should we talk—”

sungchan can’t finish his sentence before ryujin slams open the door. it startles you both, pulling you from the very important conversation you two were about to have. ryujin’s expression is serious as she looks past you and out shotaro’s window. you turn and can hear the familiar sound of police sirens and the blue and red lights flashing. ryujin looks back to you, not sparing sungchan a second glance.

“shotaro’s stupid fucking neighbors called the cops. we gotta go.” ryujin says.

you grab your varsity jacket from the edge of shotaro’s bed and look at sungchan one last time. he opens his mouth but nothing comes out. you stand there for a moment, not heading towards the door.

“karina is already waiting outside. come on.” ryujin says.

you reluctantly pull yourself away from sungchan and head towards the door. when you get to ryujin in the doorway you look her up and down. she looks more mussed than you, her sweatshirt inside out with lipstick stains around her lips.

“how’d you know i was here?” you ask.

“lucky guess,” ryujin finally looks to sungchan, who stands in the same place you left him. “bye sungchan.” ryujin says in a singsongy voice.

sungchan doesn’t even get the chance to say bye back before ryujin slams open the door. he can hear you two and the rest of the party running around, trying to evacuate shotaro’s house as fast as possible. sungchan should also probably leave through the backdoor if he doesn’t want to get in trouble with the law tonight. but he can’t seem to move as he tries to comprehend what just happened.

[letterlitter]

Blanket Warm

Lando Norris x F1 academy driver reader

Wordcount: 1k

Tags: fluff

•in which you become unwell after a racing accident and Lando is determined to take care of you.

"Two weeks off the track. Start physiotherapy on week two, then come back to see me. Hopefully you'll be back to racing in no time." The team's doctor smiled and handed you your prescription, along with a paper that said you had to rest and weren't in a condition to race.

Now you were at home all day, trying to keep yourself busy but there wasn't much to be done. Only if you'd been more careful during testing for the F1 academy. The crash wasn't that hard and it didn't ruin the car's livery much, but it sent it spinning several times to finally hit the wall, causing you to strain a neck muscle quite hard. You were okay during the check up, but how you tumbled around whith every step after getting out of bed the next morning scared you.

Lando, who had ran after you to keep you from falling, insisted to drive you to the doctor when the dizziness didn't get better after a couple of hours like you had said to convince him it's nothing. So there you were, having nowhere to go and nothing to do. Thankfully the F1 season hadn't started yet, so you and Lando had the house all to yourself after the briefing session he had to attend. Except, this was no regular holiday.

---****---

"No no, you need to sit down." Lando told you as he pulled you to the couch when he saw you stumbling while trying to make dinner. "I'll take care of things."

"Lando you can't cook" you smiled sarcastically, "I can do it."

Lando gave you a sassy side eye, "what did you say?"

"Well can you? Cook?"

He stood in a defeated silence and finally replied "okay I can't. But I can carry myself. I've got the internet and everything."

You sighed in disagreement.

"Come on babe. I am not letting you do anything. I may not be able to cook but no offence, you're not able to stand straight."

You bit the inside of your cheeks to hide your laughter.

"If you want to get better and go back soon, you have to listen to the doctor."

He waited and stared at you until you agreed. You couldn't resist those ocean blue puppy eyes anyway. And he was correct.

"Alright." You sighed, "but I will sit in the kitchen and tell you what to do."

"Oh no you won't." Lando stood up and pulled your arm to himself, threw it over his shoulder and lifted your body off the couch like firemen do; Making you squeak in surprise, "you're not doing anything but rest sweetheart. Let's get you to bed."

He finally put you on the bed, tucked you in, and you could tell moving you up the stairs was a little bit of a workout for his tiny, F1 driver arms. He didn't complain and you didn't either. It made your heart warm to see how he cared about your well being and the lengths he would go to to make sure you were alright. You were willing to do the same for him any day.

"Get some more sleep. I'll come and wake you up when everything's ready okay?"

Lando responded to your under breath "whatever you say" with a kiss on the forehead and left you to the silence of the room.

When you woke up two hours later, the smell of fried beef and cheese had came up all the way to your room. Surprisingly, it didn't smell as if something was burned or nasty.

Lando walked in all of a sudden with a big tray, pushing the door open with his back,

"Oh shit you're awake." He went right back out, making you laugh.

He came back empty handed and stood right next to your bed.

"Madam..." he helped you sit up eventhough you were capable of doing so yourself. Your head wasn't that dizzy but he still wanted to make sure everything is well.

Lando, who had wrapped a napkin around his waist stood infront of you like a waiter, "now that you are awake my dear lady, dinner will be served." He went back out and grabbed the tray he had left on the floor.

"I couldn't do a longer intro I was afraid it would get cold." And he put the tray on the bed beside you. He had made lasagna.

"Oh wow. Very well executed sir." You wanted to go along with the theme he started.

"Than you madam. Hopefully you'll like it. First..." he handed you the wet towel he had brought. He knew you hated eating before washing your hands and face after you wake up.

"Let's see." You lifted your fork and started slicing the piece.

"Hmmm, this is great Lando."

He smiled with satisfaction. You had never complimented him on his cooking before.

"It's a bit salty to be fair but how the hell did you do this?"

"My mom, a really long video call, many many dirty dishes and one broken one."

You smiled. It was the best you could ask for. Your boyfriend who cares for you, your house you could rest in, and so much comfort. Your life had been passing on such a fast track lately that you couldn't step back to appreciate the little things that were yours. This injury, how frustrating it was, had made you realize how grateful you are for the people who love you.

"What about you?" You said with you mouth half full.

"Oh I have tasted everything so many damn times I am completely full. No no really, that's all yours. My mom kept asking me to describe the taste for her like it's a competition."

You laughed "Well. I think you have won."

"I don't think you would say that if you saw what's going on downstairs."

---****---

The next 10 days went by really quickly. You were trying to get better and Lando was doing his best to keep your dizzy head entertained.

He would help you get dressed, tie your shoes, brush your hair and sit down on the couch to watch a movie with you. He would make you hot chocolate and give you your medication; and when the physiotherapy was due, he would message your neck gently like the doctor had taught him. He kept making you food and finally agreed to get some help from you when he almost burned down the kitchen.

And all he replied when you thanked him was "anything for my girl."

You finally reached full recovery a little sooner than two weeks. The doctor told you "everything seems in place. You must've had quite a good rest."

"I had a good care taker." You replied, looking at your boyfriend with a loving smile.

He really, really was one.

[lcriedlastnight]

Oscar in that post quali interview looked so mad (and hot) and it gave me an idea

Enemies to lovers, reader and Oscar start fighting for whatever reason, Oscar gets extremely mad but tries not to yell or say something he knows he would regret and reader is getting more annoyed by him not really reacting and is like "yell, scream, say something for fucks sake!” And Oscar just grabs her and kisses her and reader is surprised at first but then she immediately wraps her arms around him and kisses him back. And maybe at the end they admit they’re attracted to each other? Or however you want to end it

omg yes anon! this is an amazing idea.

tw: fem!reader, mean!reader she is a bitch!, lovely oscar, swearsm lmk if you want me to add anything.

w/c: 793

it started as a harmless joke from you. you both should have known that it would escalate. of course it would, it was you and oscar, when did it not escalate?

all you said was that lando should not have given the place back. you knew it was mean but that was kind of the point. you wanted oscar to bite, you wanted him to yell and shout and really just get in your face about it. you should have known better than that though.

oscar was not the type of person to roar and bawl over- well anything really. he was very cool, calm and collected. especially compared to you. a lot of your friends would describe you as a hothead, someone who loses her temper at the slightest inconvenience. you were not going to lie, sometimes you did enjoy a heated discussion every now and again.

you were both in oscar's drivers room, straight after his very first race win and instead of you congratulating him like you wanted to deep down, you instead found a way to get underneath his skin, just like you always did.

oscar leans against the wall, way too calm and relaxed for someone who was in the midst of an argument. it frustrated you to no end.

"lando's race was just better than yours, he should've won instead." you say. oscar's brows raise at your words.

"really? you think?" he mutters, calm. it is like the calmer he is the more it sends your blood boiling. is he not hurt by your words?

"yeah. i think everyone would rather have seen lando win today. after all he has been fighting for that second win ever since miami." lie. you know for a fact that since oscar began to lead the race you hoped and prayed he would stay ahead of the other papaya car and come out victorious.

"shame that i won then." oscar states, nonchalantly. your brows furrow.

"yeah it is. poor lando having to give away that win." you poke.

oscar just stares at you now, not even dignifying you with a response. you do not know what you like better, silence or him being dry and not giving a fuck. this man would be the cause of your death, you were sure of it.

"everyone is too busy thinking about how hard this is on lando to even give a fuck about your first win." you regret every single word that comes out your mouth but you are much too prideful to admit that to oscar. the only way you know he is still listening to you is the harsh exhales he lets out through his nose every time you say something particularly mean.

"the win was literally given to you."

this was your last straw. how could he just stand there and not care? was he made of stone or something?

"what is wrong with you? yell, scream, say something for fuck's sake!" you shout at him. it feels weird shouting at oscar, telling him to shout at you.

it is only seconds later that oscar takes three quick strides to you before he reaches you, hands quickly cupping your soft cheeks and holding you in place. he pulls you up towards his mouth and plants a firm but strangely soft kiss on your lips. this all happens in a matter of seconds so before you actually register that oscar's lips were on your own, you tense up. oscar takes that as a bad sign and drops his hands, going to pull away.

it hits you that he is kissing you and that he is going to pull away if you do not do something right now so you wrap your arms around his neck and pull him closer, finally moving your lips against his own. you sigh as oscar's hands return to their original place, thumbs tracing gentle paths across the skin underneath your eyes.

once he pulls away for air, he holds your head far enough away where he can admire you kiss swollen lips and hazy eyes, the little flush on your cheeks due to lack of air (and maybe, just a little because of oscar's touch, too).

"you get pretty mean when you like someone." oscar hums at you, thumbs still moving. even though you know he is making a joke you cannot begin to comprehend it because you are gazing at him, starry eyed and all loved up.

"you think i'm pretty?" oscar laughs and dives down for another kiss.

the australian knows you will apologise once you snap out of his touch infused haze, whenever that would be. oscar thinks no time soon, he plans to keep his hands on you at all times from now on.