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sinner-as-saint · 5 months ago

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here forever

Bucky Barnes x Reader

Run-through: Dating a superhero was no joke. And as noble as Bucky’s job was, it was just as dangerous and unpredictable. Which is why ever since you and Bucky started dating, he’d been training you in his free time. Teaching you how to defend yourself if ever he wasn’t around to protect you, or if ever his enemies came after you. Although you weren’t perfect at combat yet, you were almost certain you could get out of a tricky situation if you ever found yourself in one. But you were soon proven wrong. And your only option was to hope and pray that Bucky finds you in time.

Themes: smut, fluff, mentions of kidnapping and death, boyfriend!bucky to the rescue, slight angst, hurt/comfort, mean!dom!bucky, aftercare, biker!bucky (except i made him wear a helmet because safety), mild daddy kink (nicknames only)

a/n: short, quick lil fic because I know we’re all hungry

It had been two hours since these strange men had so easily abducted you off the streets.

It was a regular day, you were leaving yoga class and were on your way to pick up a smoothie. A treat you always got yourself after each workout class. Nothing out of the ordinary. Except Bucky’s incessant messages asking about your location.

You knew you weren’t supposed to let your guard down, not even on busy streets – one of the first lessons Bucky taught you just weeks after your first date with him. But you couldn’t help looking down and frowning at your phone. Your bag, purse and phone in your hands. Always have your hands free when walking alone, even on busy streets – the second thing he taught you.

Always be ready. Always be ready. Always be fucking ready.

But you had messed up that morning. Bucky’s messages were starting to worry you. He had been away since last night, and as usual, never gave you too many details about his job. But all you knew was that before he left, he’d asked you to try and not go out if you could. Your apartment was safe. He had eyes all over that building. Cameras, security guards, it was the safest place you could be.

‘Where are you? Why aren’t you home?’

Seconds later:

‘I told you not to go out. It’s not safe right now. Call me.’

Then some missed calls which you couldn’t answer because you were in class at the time. Then messages one after the other:

‘Go straight home.’

‘Is your class over?’

‘Go home and wait for me. Don’t open the door for anyone else.’

‘Baby I’m so serious right now, go home.’

And you were midway through typing an answer to reply to him. To tell him not to worry. To tell him that yes your class was over, and everything was okay and you would call him as soon as you got home.

But you never got the chance to reply to his messages.

It all happened too fast. One moment you were looking down, all your focus on your phone and boyfriend, and the next, you were being grabbed and shoved into a dark truck. You barely even got a scream out before the doors were shut and a tape sealed your mouth, ropes snaking around your wrists and ankles.

And just like that, in less than a full minute, you were taken.

And here you were now.

In the back of that same truck which had been driving for about two hours, maybe more. Getting further and further away from the city you lived in, and into more and more unknown areas.

Fuck! You had messed up.

You should’ve checked your phone while you were still inside the building. You shouldn’t have been texting on the streets. You shouldn’t have let your guard down. Bucky had been saying for weeks that he suspected people had eyes on him, and consequently you because you two spent a lot of time together.

He was right of course. He always was. You should’ve listened. You should’ve stayed at home, at least until he got back later today.

A tear slid down your face, like it had been for the past hours. You silently cried, thinking about all the potential circumstances you could end up finding yourself in. You couldn’t even tell who were the men who kidnapped you because they all wore masks and hadn’t said a single word in the past hours.

They were armed. And the truck seemed bulletproof. And they kept driving. Nothing said about wanting a ransom, nothing about why they had taken you, or whether they were using you as bait to get Bucky’s attention. Surely they were.

And a few minutes later, when you heard the familiar roar of a familiar bike, you knew they had his full attention.

Bucky was here.

But they hadn’t noticed yet. And you didn’t want them to. So you tried to get all their attention on you by wiggling in the backseat, acting like you were trying to get more comfortable. The two armed men right in front of you just glanced at you and your tied limbs and let you be.

You noticed the guy in the passenger seat didn’t even bother looking at you. The driver looked into the rearview mirror but quickly looked away and ahead.

They still hadn’t heard the faint, steady roar of Bucky’s bike.

Perfect.

By the time Bucky would get close enough to attack, he would catch them by surprise. And it would be too late for them to react and defend themselves.

So you kept moving, grunting in annoyance extra loudly just to mask the sound of Bucky’s bike as it got closer and closer–

A loud gunshot exploded near you. For a moment nothing made sense.

Then you realised the truck was no longer steady, it was tilted on one side. Bucky had shot one or more of the tires. You sighed in relief, while the men in the vehicle panicked. Muffled voices spoke all at once, one of them telling the driver to drive faster.

Another, one of the men who was armed in front of you, lowered the window and popped his head and gun out, trying to find whoever was around but it was too late.

You turned your head and managed to catch a glimpse of him through the rear windshield. Amongst the smoke and dirt flying, there he was. Mounted on his mean bike like a fierce general riding his beast into battle. Except this general wasn’t backed by soldiers. He was alone.

But army or not, he was still Bucky Barnes. All black bike, black helmet, full biker gear, metal arm catching the sunlight. Guns strapped to his body. He looked like Death.

A sob shook your body as you ducked and hid under the seats as much as you could as Bucky rain down bullets like hellfire upon the vehicle. He knew it was bulletproof, but you were certain he was doing it just to get the men to use their weapons and waste their bullets on him as fast as possible.

The loud noises made it seem like your brain was vibrating, your heart was racing, and your ears were hurting with how loud the guns and shouts were. But Bucky was here, and all would be well now.

A few seconds later, the truck began zig-zagging. You assumed it must be because the driver got shot. More shouts and bullets later, the truck came to a sudden stop. Like it collided with something that was strong enough to stop it even at that speed.

But there was nothing on the empty streets you had been on. Nothing except… Bucky.

An eerie silence followed. Then footsteps. The men in the truck had all been shot you realised upon smelling the scent of blood and gunpowder.

You couldn’t get yourself up, not with your limbs still tied but you tried your best. And you were barely up when you heard the sound of metal literally tearing apart. You managed to peek from the back seat and Bucky had torn off one of the doors. The entire door off the side of the truck.

You couldn’t call for him, but you kicked the back of one of the seats hard enough to get his attention.

The moment his ocean blue eyes met your teary ones, you couldn’t help but start crying. Hot, burning tears streaming down your face as Bucky almost tore apart the entire truck to get to you. The moment he grabbed you and pulled you out into the open air, it was only his arm around you keeping you up.

“I’ve got you,” He whispered over and over again, “You’re safe. I’ve got you, baby. It’s okay, it’s okay. I’m here.” He repeated continuously as he carefully peeled the tape off your lips and cupped your face in his hands, looking at you intently to look for injuries while he wiped your tears away. “Are you hurt?” He asked, looking more panicked and worried than ever. “Baby, answer me. Did they hurt you? Inject you with anything? Touch you?”

You shook your head, wanting nothing more than to just be able to take a deep breath, now safe in his arms. Only when you went to wrap your shaky arms around him, he stopped you. Keeping you at arms’ length and away from him.

That worried, soft look in his eyes turned cold. Even under the afternoon sun, you shivered under his gaze.

“What the fuck did I tell you before I left, huh?” He snarled. “I told you to stay inside, don’t leave the building. Didn’t I say that?”

You sniffled, nodding. “I just went to my weekly class, and–,”

He cut you off, hissing, “And look what happened!” He was almost screaming in your face, “You’re so lucky I got here in time. You’re so fucking lucky I have a tracker in that bag of yours. Otherwise it would’ve taken me days to get to you! Days!”

You trembled, knowing he was right. Bucky dealt with dangerous people. He knew why he asked you to be cautious.

Bucky leaned closer to you, looking down at you with no warmth. “These aren’t the villains you read about in your silly, little fucking books.” His voice sounded menacing, freezing. “These are actual, dangerous people. They wouldn’t have waited for you to charm your way out. They would’ve killed you!” He yelled.

“I’m sorry,” You sobbed. “I was replying to your texts and–,”

“We had a deal, didn’t we?” He grabbed you by the chin and forced you to look at him. “That when I tell you it’s not safe out there, you stay put. You stay inside and wait for me.” He growled. “You could’ve been killed today! And who would have had to live with that, huh? Who would’ve had to live with the disappointment that he couldn’t keep you safe? That he brought you into this shitty life and couldn’t even keep you alive?” He bellowed. “Who would’ve had to look your family in the eyes and tell them he lost you? Me! That’s who!”

More tears, and a whimper escaped your lips. “I’m sorry.” You whispered. You had never seen this side of him. He let go of your face like it burned to touch you.

He looked around, at the torn apart truck. At the bodies. The bullets on the ground. He grimaced but didn’t say anything. He reached into the truck and grabbed your things. Your bag and all that you had on you when you were taken. Your phone wasn’t here though, they must’ve thrown it out onto the streets while they took you.

Bucky said, “We need to get out of here. Come.”

He didn’t turn around to see if you were following, he knew you would. Once he got on his bike, he handed you his jacket and helmet. You put both on without questioning where you were going.

Once sat behind him, your arms hesitantly around his torso, he turned to the side and said, “City’s not safe right now. We’ll spend the night at a motel nearby.”

And that was all he said for the next few hours.

–

By the time you two made it to the motel – which was much, much more decent and clean than you had imagined – the sun was already setting. The place was quiet. A few voices conversing here and there, ACs humming as ACs do, cars coming in and out frequently given there was a gas station nearby, and a burger joint on the other side of the street.

Bucky got you two a room for the night, and didn’t say a word to you as he grabbed your hand and led you to the room.

It was a decent room. Bed, bedside tables, TV, sofas. The usual.

You didn’t notice Bucky had packed a bag as well. You hadn’t been paying much attention anyway. He placed his much bigger bag on the bed and pulled out a few things. Some belonging to you, you noticed. Toothbrush, soaps, clean clothes.

He handed a bunch of things to you and said, “Go shower.” He didn’t even look at you as he spoke. Guess he was still angry at you.

You didn’t argue. You just took the things and rushed to the bathroom, locking yourself in there for a good half an hour.

When you stepped out of the shower, feeling clean finally, you noticed Bucky wasn’t in the room. And the weather outside had changed. You could hear the faint thunder approaching. Surely by tonight there would be a storm.

But where had Bucky gone?

You put your clothes away in your bag, and with no phone you had no choice but to turn the TV on. You got in bed, a few minutes into watching some random documentary when Bucky walked in with food.

You gave him a look, wondering if he would talk to you now. But all he said as he placed the bags filled with food on the bed was, “It’s none of your fancy green smoothies and healthy wraps, but it’ll have to do for now. I’m going to shower.”

Then he disappeared.

You were still upset, but then hunger took over and you pawed at the bags like a raccoon. You found milkshakes, fries, and burgers. And you ate while you wondered how long Bucky would keep being angry at you.

You were halfway through your second burger when Bucky walked out of the shower. With nothing but a towel wrapped around his waist. His wet, dark hair pushed back, droplets of water still dripping down his chest and abs.

You swallowed your food before you choked, then looked away, acting as if the documentary on the TV was much more interesting to look at compared to your half naked boyfriend.

“Are you hurt anywhere?” He asked, and you noticed he was carrying a first-aid kit in his hands.

You shook your head.

“Nothing? No scratches, nothing?” He asked again.

You shrugged, “Just a small cut. It’ll heal. Nothing serious.”

He walked over to your side of the bed, and said, “Show me.”

You didn’t want to argue so you placed your food aside, lifted your shirt and showed him the minuscule cut on your ribs. “It’s not–,”

But he cut you off by placing the kit down and looking for some cotton and disinfectant.

It burned as he cleaned in and put a little bandaid over it. It hurt even more when he didn’t kiss it after like he usually does whenever he tends to your cuts and wounds.

You didn’t say a word though. And soon, you both finished your food in silence with only the TV and the approaching storm as noise in the background.

The thunder got louder and louder as you both got into bed. That weird silent treatment continued, and by now you were annoyed as well. You’d admit, it was your fault for being so careless when he’d told you to be cautious. But didn’t he see that you needed him now?

Couldn’t he see you wanted to be held? And kissed? And comforted?

You frowned in the dark. The lights from outside came through the blinds and lit the room up a little bit. As did the lightning. You were the only one tossing and turning you noticed, Bucky was asleep it seemed.

But the thunder, the new bed, the fear and stress from earlier, it was all keeping you from falling asleep. Plus, it was a little embarrassing to admit, but you liked being held while you fell asleep. But Bucky wasn’t even talking to you, and wrapping your own arms around yourself wasn’t working.

Another hour went by. Now the heavy rain finally came, along with a proper thunder storm. And you couldn’t take it anymore.

You turned to face Bucky and he had his eyes shut, facing you. Not a single item of clothing on his body, except for a thin sheet covering him from the waist down. You sighed, frowning a little in annoyance still but you couldn’t help but scoot closer to him, seeking his warmth and embrace.

First you pressed into him, to see if he would stir or wake up. He didn’t. So you got bolder and took his metal arm and placed it around you, waiting again. He didn’t move. So you went to wrap your arms around him, and once you did, you heard his sleepy voice saying, “Oh, what’s this? Now you need me?”

You froze, trying to see if you could pretend you were asleep already. He didn’t buy it.

“I know you’re awake.”

You sighed. “It’s the thunder.” You said, nuzzling his warm neck.

“And you need daddy to protect you now, little bunny?” He mocked. “But when I try to tell you what to do to keep you safe you never listen.”

You noticed he kept his arm around you, pulling you more into him even as he chided you. “I’m so sorry, Buck. It won’t happen again.”

He hummed. “It better not.”

You were quiet for a second or two, then said, “You were so mean to me earlier.”

“I have to be.” He said sternly. “You never listen. You don’t take your training seriously, you think you’re ready to fight your way out, baby, but you’re not. All I asked you to do was not to leave that apartment until I got there. But you couldn’t help but be a brat, could you?”

You squirmed in shame. “I don’t want you to be angry with me.”

“Well,” He said, sounding sassy as he pulled you closer, “I am pissed. Deal with it.”

You had had enough. You slipped out of his arms, “Stay here and brood then,” You tried to get out of bed, “I’ll sleep on one of the sofas–”

Bucky didn’t let you. A loud thunder boomed right above as he pulled you back into bed and climbed on top of you. “Stop being fucking difficult.” He hissed.

Before you could answer, his mouth was on yours. Beard scratching your face, his long hair tickling the sides of your face.

His kiss was rough and it hurt in the best way. Bucky pulled away for a brief moment, squeezed your cheeks so you couldn’t close your mouth. “Brat.” Glaring down at you, he spat in your mouth before kissing you again.

Your brain felt like it was floating. His kiss was hot. And messy.

“This is what you wanted, isn’t it?” His voice dropped to a dangerous whisper, “Needy little brat. Can’t ever do as you’re told, can you? You almost got fucking killed today, but you don’t care about that. Do you? Huh?”

You were quiet. Your brain was too foggy with lust to function.

“Why are you quiet? No bratty words for daddy?” He asked, sliding his rough hands up and down your parted thighs. You spread them even more the moment he touched you and he smirked when he noticed it. “Go on, tell me to stop. Tell me to let you go.” He taunted, knowing full well you would never do that.

All you did was whimper as he touched you mindlessly, sliding his fingers up and down your slit, spreading your wetness around.

“You’re gonna listen from now on.” He stated. “I don’t care what it takes. I’ll lock you in that apartment if I have to. But from now on, if I tell you it’s not safe out there, you do not leave that house. You hear me, princess?”

Silence. Which earned you a slap on the thigh. You yelped in pain before glaring at him. “Fine,” You said, “Yes, I hear you. I’ll be good.” You whined.

“Of course you will,” He said, his metal hand pinned you down on the bed by wrapping around your neck to keep you in place, while his other hand wrapped around his cock. Pumping it once, twice while holding your stare. “‘Cause I’ll have you over my knee and spank that little butt raw if you don’t.”

You whimpered and squirmed because of how badly you needed him inside you. “I will. I’ll be so good,” You begged, “Buck, please.”

Bucky wasted no time sliding inside of you. Giving you no time to even think, he moved in and out of you in a way that had you moaning out loud, not caring that the walls might be thin.

The storm got louder somehow, thunder rumbling and lightning lighting up the room every now and then. The rain got heavier, silencing the rest of the world as Bucky fucked you. His body weight pressing down onto you in a way that made you never want to be anywhere else.

It didn’t matter that you were in a small motel room, so far away from home. It didn’t matter that danger could still be lurking around. Nothing mattered, not when he held your stare as he fucked you hard and fast, barely giving you time to breathe right.

He leaned in again, whispering against the corner of your open mouth, “Look how you behave the moment you have some cock in you. Is that all my baby wanted? Daddy’s cock? Hmm? Is this why you’ve been pouting for the past few hours?” He chuckled, spreading your thighs even more, “I’ve been mean to you, haven’t I?” He cooed, fucking into you deeper somehow. “I’ve been so mean by telling you just where you messed up and how bad things could’ve gotten if I didn’t reach you in time. I’m so mean to you, aren’t I?” He mocked you, scoffing, “Is that why your pussy is strangling my cock, baby? Because daddy’s so mean to you, is he?”

You could feel your face getting hotter as your walls clenched around him over and over again, as he sped up and pounded into you. You felt all of him stretching you out, filling you up, moving rapidly in and out of you until he was all you could focus on.

“Is this what you wanted, little bunny?” He whispered, pounding into you relentlessly as he bent down to bite your lower lip and tug on it. “Is this enough to make you behave from now on, baby?”

You moaned at how perfect his warm body felt on top of yours, his weight pressing down on you. His stubble tickled your skin as he kissed your face and bit on your lip. Your legs trembled as his thrusts, relentless and unbearably good. The pressure around your lower body grew, familiar, tight and hot.

The storm, the streetlights, and every little bit of light allowed you to see how Bucky looked down at you as you tightened around his cock. He smirked, looking down to where his cock disappeared into you each time he thrust in. “I killed for you today.” He whispered, “I saved you, and this is what I get? Attitude? A bratty girl? Not even a thank you,” He scoffed, “Not even a ‘thank you for saving me daddy’, nothing.” The cold cruelty in his voice only made you clench around him harder.

His hand squeezed your throat again, making you moan even louder. “Dirty little slut. Look at you, all cock drunk.” He scoffed, giving you yet another messy kiss. “Are you gonna be good from now on?”

“Yes,” You whined, not recognising your voice because of how desperate you sounded. Then again, only he could make you sound this way. You whimpered, unable to say anything else because of how good he felt sliding in and out of you.

Fuck, you needed this. So much. You whined again when his hand let go of your throat, fingers trailing down your squirming body until his metal fingers found your clit, toying with it while he pounded into you mercilessly.

“Yeah?” He stared deep into your eyes as he spoke. “You’re gonna be my good girl and listen to me?”

You nodded, tears streaming down your face again. The exhaustion from earlier, the day you had survived. It was all too much. “Please…” You whimpered, squirming and unable to hold back anymore. You needed to come so bad. Your thoughts were a mess.

“Good girl.”

And you couldn’t hold back anymore. You came undone all around him. Moaning, your back arching off the bed as you came hard around his cock, tightening around him even harder than earlier.

Bucky kept pounding into you as your orgasm washed over you, your walls squeezing him violently. Your body trembling under him. “That’s it, babygirl. Come for daddy.”

You could hear the untamed hunger in his deep, growly voice. He groaned until he came undone as well. You whined and whimpered as you felt him filling you up, his thrusts slowing down, his cum dripping down your inner thighs.

—

You vaguely remember his cleaning the two of you. He let you rest for a minute, but then it seemed like he couldn’t keep his hands to himself. So he flipped you around, straddled you and began massaging your worn out body.

He rubbed his rough hands all over your back, down your hips, and thighs. It was quiet for a while. Just the rain, the thunder, and the sound of Bucky breathing.

Then you heard his gentle voice. “I can’t lose you. Not you.” He whispered, like he was saying it to himself, “Not you, baby.”

Your heart throbbed and pinched.

He leaned down and kissed the back of your neck, your shoulders, down your spine, all while massaging your body. “I don’t like being mean to you.” He kissed his way up again, nuzzling your ear and whispering, “Earlier today,” He spoke softly, “When I watched the tracker show me how fast you were getting further and further away, thinking about how they must’ve grabbed you. How easily, how quickly they took you, I–,” His voice cracked.

You couldn’t help the tears anymore, “I’m sorry.” You tried to turn over and face him but he gently pushed you back down on the bed.

“Shh,” He shut you up. “Just let me take care of you.” His hands touched you everywhere. Soft touches soothing the spots he’d grabbed harshly earlier. “You scared me, baby.” He kissed around the cut on your side. “For a moment I thought I’d never see you again.”

“I’ll be good, I promise.” You sniffled, trying to look at him over your shoulder. “I’ll train harder, I’ll be better. I won’t let my guard down, ever.”

He leaned in and kissed your lips gently. “You’re perfect.” He stated. “We’ll work on training you better. We’ll be okay. Don’t worry baby, I’ve got you. Always.”

You gave him a teary smile and sheepishly said, “Thank you for saving me.”

Bucky laughed softly, nuzzling your neck again, kissing your skin like he couldn’t get enough. “I would burn this entire world down if anyone tries to take you from me again.”

You laid your head back down on the pillow, laughing softly. Thinking he was joking.

He wasn’t.

#bucky barnes #bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes smut #thunderbolts #marvel

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monzabee · 4 months ago

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diet pepsi - ln4 (+18)

masterlist ||

Summary: The one where you and Lando have a rather interesting way of resolving an argument.

Pairing: lando norris x fwb!reader

Word Count: 2k

Warnings: kinda cute ass fighting so fluff??, sex in a car, fingering, penetration, manhandling, no use of protection (wrap it before you tap it!!), cursing, minords dni!!

Request: “okay but what about good old car sex with lando pleaseeee”

Author’s Note: hi, hey, hello!! first of all, who knew addison rae had the power to make a song that made me write this whole thing under 3 hours?? i certainly did not. secondly, i thought it would be nice to take a little break from the charles-carlos drama, and before i finish the third and final part to that little mini-series, i thought you guys would enjoy a little treat in the meantime! i have to admit writing for lando again was an interesting experience for me, but who knows, maybe i'll do it more often (i have one request that i'm obsessed with so that’s definitely coming your way as well!) also, i have an oscar fic in the works as well, so maybe the sudden change in mclaren also started to affect me lol. a quick psa, i know many people asked me in my last fic, but i do NOT have a taglist and i won’t be making one any time soon either! anywaaays, i hope you guys enjoy this fic, and feedback is welcome as always! thank you to the anon for their request, and good morning, noon or night wherever you are, xoxobee

Please also note that all of my works are protected under copyright, and not available for reposting on other platforms.

“I can’t believe you’re drinking that in my car.” Lando complains, shooting you a sideway glare as you sip your choice of beverage contently.

You tilt the cup slightly in his direction, grinning. “Relax, it’s not like it’s going to explode, nor it is your car.”

“It might as well,” Lando mutters, eyes back on the road. “Knowing your luck, the second I hit a bump, that thing will be all over the place and I’ll have to explain what happened to Zak. Do you even know how much it costs to clean these seats?”

You laugh, swirling the drink in the cup. “You’re being dramatic, it’s not like you are the one to detail the cars you use. It’s fine, I’ve got this under control.”

“Famous last words,” Lando grumbles. His grip tightens on the steering wheel as if he’s preparing for impact.

You glance at him, amused. “Are you always this paranoid about your car, or is it just me?”

“It’s you. Definitely you.” He shoots you another look, this one laced with mock suspicion. “You have a history, you know.”

“Oh, puh-lease,” you drawl, rolling your eyes as you turn your upper body to face him. “Tell me one time I actually made a mess in your car, and I’ll throw away this can right now.”

Lando doesn't hesitate as he answers quickly. “Monaco. Last year. You remember that smoothie incident, right?”

You blink a couple of times, taken aback. “That doesn’t count! That was your fault for speeding around the corner like a maniac. How was I supposed to hold on to it?”

He smirks, clearly enjoying the memory. “Oh, so now it’s my fault, huh? You were the one who insisted on bringing a smoothie into my car five minutes before a race.”

“You didn’t even have to brake so hard,” you mutter, crossing your arms defensively. “I had it under control until you decided to turn it into a F1 race.”

Lando chuckles, shaking his head. “Doesn't matter. I still won, throw it away now.”

“That doesn’t count, it was clearly your fault!” You complain, holding the can protectively. “There’s no way I’m tossing this because of your bad driving.”

Lando laughs, shaking his head. “Bad driving? I think I’d take that up with the people who hired me to race professionally.”

“Professionally doesn’t mean you’re not reckless,” you quip, a playful glint in your eyes. “Especially when there’s a smoothie involved.”

“Fine,” he contends, shrugging, “how about that time I made you come too hard, and you leaked onto the seats?”

This manages to shut you down for a moment, with eyes nearly bulging out of your head, you gasp at Lando’s sudden choice of words. “Lando!” You exclaim, reaching over the console to hit him on the arm gently, “That’s vulgar!”

Silently chuckling at your reaction, he reaches over as he places a hand on your upper thigh, his hand tightening as you hold his wrist in warning. “It’s the truth,” he reminds you with a smirk, “don’t go shy on me, now, you were the one to get the seats all messed up because of how wet you were.” If you weren’t blushing before, your face most definitely resembles a tomato now as he continues his stream of consciousness, “Not that I’m complaining, though, I’m pretty sure I came in my pants when I made you cum just from my fingers.”

“You– you did?” The question flies from your mouth before you can stop yourself.

The smile that overtakes the smirk on Lando’s face is almost sweet, and he coos at the innocence of your question as he squeezes your thigh again. “Oh baby,” he coos, “it was the hottest thing ever.”

Your thighs attempt to trap his hand as you inadvertently press them tighter together, your nose scrunching up in confusion. “But it was messy.”

“That was the best part,” Lando confirms, his thumb caressing your skin. “I loved getting to clean you up afterwards, didn’t I? Almost as much as you loved it.”

“Sure.” You mumble, shrugging as you do your best to ignore his burning stare. You’d be worried about the fact that he was supposed to be driving if it was someone else, but considering he’s a F1 driver, you don’t comment on Lando’s lack of his surroundings as he pushes your thighs apart. “What are you doing?” You ask, confused as he moves his fingers further up your skirt.

“You just focus on finishing that drink, okay?” He mumbles as his fingers pull your underwear to the side. “I’m suddenly in the mood for something sweet myself.”

“Lando, I don’t think we should do th–hat.” Your voice waivers towards the end as his fingertips press on your clit, drawing lax circles on the bundle of nerves. “Lando,” you try to warn him, but your voice comes out as a high-pitched whimper.

He shushes you gently as his fingers spread your wetness around your skin, causing you to bite down on your lip to silence yourself. Lando lets his dissent known by clicking his tongue against the roof of his mouth, mumbling, “Don’t silence yourself, let me hear you, baby.” And when you give him what he wants and let out a loud moan as your hips involuntarily buck against his hand. Grinding the palm of his hand against your puffy clit, Lando uses your wetness to slowly push two of his fingers into you, drawing out another moan as you lean your head against the headrest. “My God, baby, look at you. You’re already making a mess on the seats.”

“N-no,” you manage to whine, shaking your head as you give him a pleading but stubborn look, “I’m not making a mess.”

“No?” He asks, mocking the pout that has found its way onto your lips. “Then who is so wet against my hand that it’s dripping, huh?” You're not sure if it’s his words or the way his fingers keep moving in and out of your cunt, but in either case, the overwhelming need of just something more causes you to attempt to put the can in your hand down, when Lando tuts again in warning, “You don’t get to put your drink down until you first come on my fingers.”

After his words set in, you finally come to your senses, suddenly opening your eyes as you give him a shocked look. “Wha–what?” You ask, “What if I spill?”

He shrugs, an innocent smile on his lips as he throws you a glance, “I guess you’ll just have to be careful and not spill it.” The smile on his lips grows as you let out a frustrated sound, and he responds by moving his fingers in a come-hither motion to git the spot, which causes your body to arch into his touch. “Are you going to give me what I want?” He asks, his concentration still on the road as he tries to find a secluded spot to park the car.

“Uh-huh,” you mutter, voice shaky as you focus on not dropping the can in your hand, “I will, Lando, just keep doing that.”

“Doing what?” He asks in a faux-innocent tone, as he goes back to simply continuing the pistoning movement of his fingers. “Like this?” He asks, with a shit eating grin on his face as you whine. “Or, like this?” He asks again, but this time, he repeats the movement of his fingers previously as he hits your g-spot again.

You can’t control the scream that gets released from the back of your throat as your body shakes violently. “That,” you breathe out, your free hand holding onto the seatbelt so tight that you can feel it starting to cramp your hand a little bit, “don’t you dare stop doing that.”

Lando lets out a low chuckle, clearly satisfied with your desperate plea. His fingers continue their relentless pace, teasing and coaxing you closer to the edge. “Oh, I won’t stop,” he murmurs, his tone soft yet commanding. “Not until you give me what I want.”

Your entire body feels like it's on fire, the combination of his skilled fingers and the impossible task of not spilling your drink has you teetering on the edge. The car feels smaller, the world outside irrelevant, as Lando’s attention is focused solely on you. Being so consumed by the way Lando’s fingers move in and out of your cunt, you don’t even know that the car you are in at the moment has been abandoned in the side of a deserted road. You grip the can tighter, your hand trembling as the tension builds in your core. “Lando,” you gasp, a hint of desperation seeping into your voice. “I— I can't—”

He smirks, enjoying your struggle. “You can,” he counters smoothly, leaning slightly closer while keeping one hand on the steering wheel. “You can do it, just let it go, baby.” His thumb presses harder on your clit, drawing another loud moan from your lips.

“Lando, please,” you beg, your voice almost cracking under the weight of your impending release. “I’m going to—”

“Good,” he cuts you off, his smirk widening. “Let go for me, baby. And don't you dare spill that drink."

His words are your undoing. With one final flick of his fingers, you shatter around him, your body convulsing with pleasure as you ride out your high. Your head falls back against the seat, your hand gripping the can so hard you’re not surprised it bursts under the pressure.

You hear Lando’s satisfied chuckle as he eases his fingers out of you, giving your thigh one last affectionate squeeze. “Good girl,” he murmurs, glancing over at you with a proud smile. “Look at how good you look.” He shamelessly holds his fingers in front of your face, then without missing a beat, he brings his fingers into his mouth. The way he moans is nothing short of sinful, and you watch him with your lips parted as he mumbles around his fingers, “I think you spilled it a little bit.”

“E-Excuse me?” You stutter, looking at Lando with the horrified look on your face. “No, I didn’t!”

Lando raises an eyebrow, his smirk never faltering as he glances down at the mess on the seat. “Oh, but you did,” he teases, licking his lips after savoring the taste of you on his fingers. His eyes gleam with amusement as he points at the spot between your legs. “Not the drink, though… you.”

Your face burns with a mix of embarrassment and desire, your breath still uneven as you try to process what just happened. “That’s not what I—” you stammer, crossing your arms over your chest, but Lando just laughs softly.

“Relax, love. It’s nothing a little cleaning can’t fix.” He leans back in his seat, eyes never leaving you, his hand returning to the steering wheel like what just happened was the most normal thing in the world. “Besides, I’d much rather clean you up later.”

You feel the heat spread through your body again, and despite yourself, you can’t help but feel a wave of arousal wash over you. Lando’s confidence, the way he handles you with such ease, is almost intoxicating. But as much as you’re enjoying the moment, a small part of you knows this is ridiculous.

“You’re insufferable,” you mutter, trying to regain some composure, though your flushed cheeks give you away.

Lando just grins, completely unbothered. “You love it,” he says casually, shooting you another one of those playful sideway glances that makes your heart race. “Admit it. You like when I make you lose control.”

You bite your lip, fighting the urge to throw a retort his way. But you can’t deny it, not after the way your body reacted to his touch. “You’re lucky you’re good at this,” you finally concede, your voice barely above a whisper.

Lando’s smile softens, just for a moment. “Good at a lot of things,” he says, his voice dropping to a more intimate tone. Then he pulls the car to a stop, turning off the engine before leaning toward you, his lips brushing your ear as he whispers, “And I’m just getting started.”

#monzabee #requests open #f1 fic #f1 fanfic #f1 smut #formula 1 #fanfic #f1 x reader #f1 x you #f1 x y/n #lando norris #lando norris x reader #lando norris imagine #imagine #fluff #angst #smut #lando norris fluff #lando norris smut

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on-the-clear-blue · 2 months ago

Text

Tim walking into the dining room: Oh B, i just realized, happy 5 years sober, I am really proud of you.

Bruce, small smile and sipping his tea: Thank you Tim.

Dick, looking up confused from his bowl of cereal: What? Sober? Weren't you drinking last night at the gala?

Bruce, brows furrowed: Not from alcohol, Chum.

Tim, after downing his cup of coffee: Damn you didn't know? It was cocain. B was on that booger sugar.

Bruce, making a face: Please, never call it that again.

Dick, after his brain rebooted: You...you did cocain?

Bruce sighing :Yes I did...I though you knew.

Dick, abandoning his bowl of cereal: No, no I very much didn't! How did you...like get into that?

Tim: Dick take it down a notch, please? Bruce has been clean for years.

Bruce, shaking his head: It's fine Tim, I should have been more up front with this to the others.

Dick, with his head tilted and still a bit upset: Others? You mean only Tim knew?

Bruce, nodding: He caught me taking a key from one of Penguins supply when he was Robin and forced me to confess, I went to rehab a week later.

Dick, sitting back down in a stupor: Wait...You mean the thing when you were gone for like a few months? I thought you were on a deep space mission with the league! Hell, Uncle Clark even said so!

Bruce, wincing: Y-Yes...I was in a treatment center in Sweden...Tim found them and signed me up without telling me, and had Clark take me there...

Bruce side eyeing Tim: Took my Kryptonite before doing so...and my stash.

Tim, unapologetic, shrugging: Mom used the same place when she was getting off of Quaaludes.

Bruce, shrunching his nose: Never did like downers, made it harder to think.

Dick, having a mental breakdown: So you just...did drugs? For like a while? When did this even start?

Bruce, silent for a while, moving his breakfast around for a moment: It started when I was about...16? When I was in the club scene for a bit I got wild, taking pills and such that I didn't need, it was the 80s, blow was all the rage with the youth in higher circles and...well one thing lead to another and I got hooked.

Dick, holding his head in his hands: Oh my God...Wait.. Were you actively doing drugs when you adopted me???

Bruce, groaning: Yes...Didn't it ever seem strange that sometimes I was very lively and then suddenly was practically dead an hour later before getting back to lively?

Dick, horror coming across his face: Oh my God the signs...

Tim, chuckling: B was a God damn drug fiend, practically snorted half of Columbia.

Bruce, looking scandalized: Tim! I was not that bad...

Tim staring at Bruce:

Bruce staring back:

Bruce, sighing: Fine yes it was that bad.

Dick: uninhorant screeching

Bruce, tsking: I quit a few years after taking you in Chum, I only relapsed when Jason...temporarily passed...and that was only for at most a year, Tim found me out, sent me to rehab and while I have had a few scares, I have been sober for years.

Dick: Happy for you, really but holy fuck.

Tim, snorting: It wasn't the first time I caught you B, imagine little old 10 year old me following Batman and Robin and stumbling across the Dark Knight of Gotham doing a line on a gargoyle while Robin beat the shit out of the dealers below.

Dick, agape: Really Bruce? Do you even remember that?

Bruce, Blushing: i...may have done that more than once...

Dick, crying on the inside: BRUCE?!

Jason, walking in with a smoothie: Oh what are we yelling at B for? I want in.

Dick, wildly pointing at Bruce: BATMAN DID COCAIN.

Jason, slowly taking a drag from his smoothie, before turning to Bruce: w h a t?

Bruce, hiding his face in his hands, sullenly: I trained you all better than this. Yes I did drugs, I am 5 years sober.

Jason, softly putting his smoothie down before walking over to Bruce and patting his shoulder: Proud of you for that, like actually good job, holy shit that is hard. But also WHAT THE FUCK.

Bruce, sighing hard: I thought you all knew...

Jason flopping down in a chair, counting on his fingers: Wait a God damn minute, you got on my case for smoking while doing cocain!

Bruce, dead panned: it's a gate way to much harder things.

Jason, squinting: Who are you D.A.R.E?

Tim, cackling: he was! Did a whole speech about it! Full Batman regalia and was talking about how weed is bad!

Bruce glaring lightly at Tim: It is! It can cause lung damage, a build up of black tar in the lungs and can dull your mind when you are in a tike of crisis!

Jason, rolling his eyes: B, Shut the fuck up you did cocain.

Bruce, sighing yet again: You really are not letting that go are you...

Tim, sipping his coffee: Think of it like this, there is a reason B was able to get back to fighting like a week after Bane broke his back.

Bruce, pursing his lips,: Not the time Tim.

Tim, grinning evilly: Oh no, it is very much the time, I have been waiting till the others knew...I have so many blackmail stories....and pictures

Bruce, a look of true fear on his face: Oh God no...

#batfam #batman #jason todd #tim drake #bruce wayne #dick grayson #bruce did so many drugs #out of character.#so fucking ooc #cocain batman is my pride and joy #that man needed to be high as balls to do the shit he does #also thr imagine of Bruce just doing a line ofg a gargoyle is hilarious to me #bruce was a wild child during the 80s #he did at least a little drugs #he and harvey once ate shrooms and had a whole trip thinking they were jellyfish #coke fiend batman can sniff the air and know what the criminals were cooking

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r1elle · 2 months ago

Text

“no use crying over spilled milk.” —except, there probably is.

a. miya x reader

atsumu knows he’s messed up.

he thinks he may need to leave all that he’s accomplished in his lifetime — all because of a simple, but dire mistake.

“this can’t be happenin..” the blonde murmurs, looking at the monstrosity infront of him.

spilled vegetable smoothie. on three dozens of cooling cookies. that you’ve excitedly made. for your friends and family. as gifts.

atsumu was definitely crying over this ‘spilled milk’.

brushing off the fear of getting divorced on Christmas Eve, atsumu decides to think of how he can remove any remaining evidence.

he thinks that perhaps he can just bake the cookies again, —but argh, he silently curses osamu for taking the culinary skills.

the blonde scrambles around, scurrying to every part of the kitchen to at least try and scrape some of the green-kelpy smoothie bits on your cookies.

the opening of the front door was the only thing that could make him drop whatever he was doing.

“atsumu!~ do you think you can help me with the groceries? i ended up going a little overboard, so i bought some hot coco and chocolate fondue as something to go with the cookies! and—“ you ramble on, however atsumu could only feel the lump forming in his throat, the sweat on his forehead, and the drying of his lips.

he’d rather experience losing a volleyball match right now.

but unfortunately, the sweating of his palms wasn’t going to help him cover his crime scene— with you finally walking up to him with a questionable tone and all.

on some lame attempt to delay your discovery by even a fraction of a second, atsumu lays a cloth on top of your pastries.

“hey, something the matt—……er…?”

you pause in between your words, familiar with atsumu’s current expression. your husband is wearing the exact face he made the last time he realized he’d accidentally mistaken your diy project as trash and threw it out. (valentines almost ended off with him sleeping on the couch.)

his face could only mean one thing, then.

however, distracting you from the overly guilty look on his face was the unusual placement of the rag that you had bought not long ago.

you look at the cookies.

he looks at you.

you look at him.

he looks at the cookies.

you lift the rag.

green, protein-y, vegetable smoothie mix laid on top of your thick, chocolate chipped cookies.

“miya.”

despite the fact that you both now share the same last name— atsumu knows you talk of his last name.

he fears that you may end up going back to your own after this night passes.

“baby please, i— i didn’t…” he rambles, but knows that no excuse can save him from his actions. he pinches the bridge of his nose. “…im…i’m sorry, hon. i’ve got no excuse. i was bein’ careless, and yer’ cookies are all damped because of my stupidity. i’m sorry. what can i do? hm?”

his build envelopes yours, and suddenly you find a man nearing his 30s senselessly murmuring sweet nothings to your ear, hoping that perhaps a single saying can be of the slightest comfort to your disappointment.

the room quiets down, the sound of the ventilation being the only source bearing noise.

the silence only makes atsumu antsy, who begins to lose hope of your anger easing down any time soon.

and so, he decides to call it a night.

“i’ll take the couch tonight, hm? how’s that? i know that it’s nothin’ much…”

a grin.

“…but if it’ll help you in even the slightest way, i’m more than willing to do it—”

a stifle of laughter.

atsumu paused, thinking that the (familiar) sound he’d just heard was some sort of hallucination that his mind had made up on the spot.

“a-anyway, i’ll see what i can do soon, and—“

finally releasing any ounce of self control you had, bursts of laughter start leaving your mouth.

“oh— oh, oh my gosh, i…” your unexplained cackling begins to alter the solemn look on your husbands face into one of confusion.

“you just looked so pathetic— it was cute! i’m sorry, i’m sorry..” you manage to hide in a snort, your husbands eyes following every movement you made.

why were you laughing? was he getting divorced?! is this some sick way to break it to him? no…no??! you’ve both been through so much together, you couldn’t possibly—… but then again… he’s probably put you through so much! argh! is this what osamu meant when he said—

atsumu’s disorganized internal thoughts then get interrupted by your pecks, something that’s been able to melt him since your last year of highschool.

“i’m not mad, no.. no,” you smile, a little giggle sneaking out. “i just couldn’t help but see how you’d react if i looked mad! i’m sorry baby, forgive me?” you coo, your head lifting up to meet his eyes as you sway his tall figure.

“but… i.. yer not mad? i completely trashed the cookies, babe. look!—

“i may or may not have accidentally mixed the salt up for sugar.” you say, a playful smile greeting your lips. “haven’t told you about the cookies i just bought from the store.”

as if all his worries had come to an end, atsumu’s shoulders slump down, a sigh coming out of him.

“ya couldn’t just tell me all that in the beginnin’?”

“and miss seeing you all so guilty and pouty? what am i, insane?”

“be happy i love ya’.”

“need i remind you of last valentines, then?”

“why don’t we get set up? also, yer’ lookin’ beautiful in that dress. anyone told you that yet?”

“okay, you can stop that now, miya.”

“yer’ a miya too, ya know.” he grins.

you roll your eyes, however a smile creeps it’s way in, betraying your ‘dismay’ towards the man.

“you’re right. i suppose i am.”

this was from the request of an oomf !

can we just pretend this was posted before Christmas thank u very muchiez

i fear that the pathetic husband atsumu will never become a trope i’ll get tired of

Merry Christmas and Happy Holidays everyone !

ps. if you start seeing that i lowkey started to get confused as to how to write that lil accent he has, no u didn’t.

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briseroyawritingsblog · 3 months ago

Text

𝑰 𝒄𝒂𝒏 𝒔𝒉𝒐𝒘 𝒚𝒐𝒖 — 𝑨𝑼

𝒑𝒓𝒐𝒇𝒆𝒔𝒔𝒐𝒓!𝒉𝒐𝒘𝒍𝒆𝒕𝒕 𝒙 𝒇𝒆𝒎𝒂𝒍𝒆!𝒓𝒆𝒂𝒅𝒆𝒓

• +21 minors do not interact. this is actually taboo, mutual flirtation, desire, inappropriate thoughts, large age gap, heavy kissing, professor is so horny in this (beware), darkish AU, light stalking (if you squint) mutual pining (little) mentions of rough sex, thinking of unprotected sex.

𝒍𝒐𝒈𝒂𝒏 𝒎𝒂𝒔𝒕𝒆𝒓𝒍𝒊𝒔𝒕 / 𝒎𝒂𝒔𝒕𝒆𝒓𝒍𝒊𝒔𝒕

dividers by @anitalenia

Yes it happened, he’d overwork so he didn’t have to return home. That home of his was nothing but cold, empty, and lonely. Another evening of sitting in his office and marking the last semester papers. He’d secretly drink some whiskey out of a coffee cup and remove his shoes to feel comfortable. Stretching his limbs he’d sigh and think what happened to his life. Children grown up and wife somewhere out there with a new man. Yes- divorce was messy but at the end the feeling in his chest could’ve been compared to elation, maybe freedom. Divorces ended up being messy because of the heartbreak but man in his age? He desired peace- adjusting the reading specs on the bridge of his nose and sighed coming across your semesters quiz. Naturally loving the way you curved the font of your name on his papers. Reading your essay only to the half way and marking it ‘excellent’ because to be truthful you were a very creative writer. Thoughts drifting to many places as he touched the coffee cup to sip on his whiskey. He could also definitely just retire because being a teacher in his late 50’s was quite challenging. Not because of the age range, he lost patience. Yes… it happened. Secretly hating his colleagues guts, but oh god when he saw you… there it was. The weak spot- what he liked the most that you’d always catch his gaze. Sitting at the back of the classroom leaning on your elbow and catch his gaze. Seeing you press your thighs together under the desk, at the praise he gave you for your test results. He liked praising you.

Being newly enrolled, finding new friends which you did instantly and they were cool people. Sharing mutual interests and forming a little study sessions in the library. It was honestly so good. But the moment you saw him passing by holding that green smoothie in his hand from cafeteria you loved so much. You caught yourself staring, goodness he was tall. That hair slicked back, and the specs, your chest felt like giving up. A breath caught in your throat as he locked his eyes with yours. Gripping the book against your chest you ran up to him “Mr..” stilling his feet he acknowledged you “Y/N” a smile greeting his features and you grew weak in your knees. Secrets… secrets again. You had tons of them. “Did they have any different flavors?” You pointed at his smoothie and he chuckled shrugging. “I’m not entirely sure, but this one caught my eye today.” You nodded “it’s pretty great. I get it all the time.” He moistened his lips as you spoke. “Oh don’t say, that good?” Bringing the straw to his lips he tasted it. The sweet flavors leaving his tastebuds dancing. “Very healthy, it’s sweet” he hummed. “Walk with me?” He motioned to his office at the end of the corridor. Your heart needed to calm down because god, you couldn’t stop the feelings. Holding the book against your chest forgetting about your study session and your friends soon finding yourself sitting in his office. Leaning back against his chair he sighed. Finally having you for himself- it’s been days since he last time saw you. “Read your essay, i must say it’s amazing” he praised. “Really? You think it’s good?” You relaxed your shoulders taking a breath. “I know it’s very good, you don’t have to study so hard in that library you already have it.” Answering you with so much confidence your attraction level towards him spiked off the roof. “Thank you Sir..” you smiled, eyes sparkling. “Most welcome” the Sir part definitely surged through his body and straight to his cock. You had no idea…

Throwing his briefcase on the passengers seat, it was time to go home but he didn’t want to. He really didn’t want to walk into that cold empty house alone. Maybe divorce was fine but he didn’t expect to feel so goddamn lonely whenever he was at home. He could eat out, join his awful work colleagues because they constantly invited him. About to start his car he noticed you running across the road, he leaned back in his drivers seat adjusting his specs, your skirt bounced as you ran flashing him a sight of your thighs. You got in the car with a man he figured it’s your father. How much he wanted to drive you home, maybe hold your inner thigh with one hands and maybe- only maybe touch that sweet pussy of yours. He would trace your little folds and make them wet. He wanted to fit his cock right between those folds and fuck it until you’d cry for him to stop. Maybe a little rougher- maybe causing you a little lust filled pain. Snapping his hips right into you, faster and faster gripping you around your neck. These thoughts ran through his mind, making his cock heavy in his dress pants. Hissing softly as he touched his growing cock through his pants shifting in his seat, god he hated this. He hated not having you for himself and pound that little pussy of yours at every chance he’d be able to. Fill you right up with his cum, and stuff it back in you as it would leak out of you.

Seeing your professor sitting in his car, on the other side of the car park you waved. He seemed to be looking down perhaps reading something- and in fact yes he was reading a book because what else he’d have to do to make his little ‘problem’ suffice away. You told your father that you’d rather walk, the car park was nearly empty and it was getting dark maybe it was your chance to tell your professor about your new story what you were writing. No harm in that right? Getting out of your father’s car waving him goodbye, you ran back across the road to your professors car gently knocking on his window. He looked up, and god his heart sunk in surprise seeing you there. Sliding his window down slowly you stuttered at first “I-I just saw you sitting here thinking you were reading and yes you’re.” He nodded slowly masking the awful need in the pit of his stomach. “Hop in.” You excitedly did- getting on his passengers seat. “It’s actually a novel by my favourite author.” Handing you the book locking the doors. You eagerly read the info about the plot and bit your lower lip. “Have it. It’s from my library at home, I really don’t borrow books from the campus.” Your eyes grew wide. “Really?! I can read it?” He smiled nodding. “Of course! Give it back once you finish.” Your heart thumping against your chest cavity not containing yourself anymore kissing his cheek telling him endless thank you’s. Closing his eyes the moment your lips touched his cheek his breath hitched. He chuckled lightly giving your hand a gentle squeeze. Then it hit you- you kissed your professor even though it was not allowed at all you felt like breaking the rules. “I can show you.. the book, umm- in my home.” He offered, and you swallowed. Was this happening? Really? “I - I cannot accept it Sir. Honestly.. you’re too sweet.” He hummed at your words but not saying anything. “What if I like being sweet with you?” He then answered. Your cheeks deepened in red, lord… what on earth was happening to you?

“First editions? First official printings?” You gazed in utter awe tracing the books in his library. He was leaning against his table, arms folded in his chest. “What’s this?” You asked innocently trying to reach for a book much higher not aware that your professor was sweet enough to sneak up behind you reaching for it your hands touching. Alone just you two in his house. Tilting your head towards him your faces inches apart, your heart was jumping and juddering in your chest as his cologne hit your nose. It was woodsy, hint of spiciness, perhaps even a little tiny bit floral. “Here” whispering taking a whiff of your hair. “I should go-” you realized that this hole you were about to fall into would be hard to get out of. “So soon?” He whispered giving you some of his warmth, his chest pressing to your back. Warmth radiating from his body- your lips parted. Dropping the book by your two feet turning around his large hands capturing your ribs. Leaning down his mouth was on yours kissing you fiercefully. You moaned gaining him the access to your tongue and he kissed the hell out of you. Wet kisses, full of cravings and desire painting your soul in reds and oranges. Your hands finding rest on his back as you indulged yourself in the warm feeling, his large body pressing you against the books his hand hiking your thigh around his waist. The way your tongues glided and touched in your mouths the saliva strings connecting your mouths as you both hungrily kissed again and again moaning in sweet lust. Tilting his face to one side as he devoured your lips, you couldn’t stop the mewls which escaped you making his cock possibly harder. Your panties getting in twist pussy leaking with wetness drenching your own panties you both found pace rubbing against each other. The rough material of his belt buckle giving your clit a cold touch causing you gasping for air against his lips and his large hand gripped the back of your neck. His grunts and groans, surged through you. “S-Sir” gasping at the neck kisses wrapping your arm around his neck pulling him down on you feeling his kisses on your soul. His arms wrapped around you “let me make you feel good angel, i wanna take good care of you” your brain was telling you to stop heart telling you to give yourself to the man who was so passionately ravishing your mouth. Your body betraying you- you were so lost. “Been needing you so much lately” admitting all these things while touching your body in ways hand on your breast kissing your chest sniffing you his thumb circling your hardened peak through your bra and blouse. Your hands holding his back, wanting him all over you. “M’so scared this is not allowed but I want you” admitting making him kiss you passionately touching your pussy through your panties. Those kisses and touches were unforgettable that’s why it took you everything to gently push him away and run out of his house with tears spilling down your cheeks because this was not allowed. You might’ve loved your professor yes and he might have loved you back- but this could not happen at all. Wiping your tears with the back of your sleeve you ran as fast as you could. Even though your heart hurt immensely- you both knew you’d steal moments to be together.

My secret lover… my secret- only mine. “To love or have loved, that is enough. Ask nothing further. There is no other pearl to be found in the dark folds of life.”

(Apologies for any mistakes and typos in advance)

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witherby · 19 days ago

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DUDEEEEE, after reading your little Wayne (who is now a grown up) goes looking for a part time job and after quitting the last job I imagem them getting into a cafe job were both villain and heros goes and there's no fighting in there

Dude what's it like having such an amazing incredible spectacular brain

That's the coolest idea I've ever heard

The Littlest Wayne: Truce Juice

Nobody believes it at first, that your signage is genuine. They think it's a gimmick or a ploy to avoid your shop being targeted by villains if they decide to terrorize the city and start doing massive amounts of property damage again.

"Is it true?" Customers will ask, as they come by to get a smoothie or request a bagel. "You're willing to serve villains?"

And every single time, you smile, hand over their order, and say "yes!" Because you are.

Your family chooses to fight crime under the cover of darkness. They fix Gotham's problems by punching them and throwing them in Blackgate or Arkham. During the day, your father does his best to fund the places that need it the most — infrastructure, homeless shelters, food banks, education — but it's not enough.

You can help the normal citizens as much as you want, but they're still going to be terrorized by the villains that escape the prison and the asylum. They're still going to feel Othered from most of society, which is what drove them to villainy in the first place. Hurting them, pushing back at them, it fixes the short-term problems but never quite nips it in the bud.

Your hope is to treat the criminals like...well, like they're not criminals. Which is why you opened Truce Juice — a little drink cafe in the heart of the city that welcomes everybody, good, bad, and in-between. It's your good-faith experiment you had to beg your father not to intervene in, using either identity, for weeks before he finally agreed.

So, deed in hand, trained employees on staff, and insurance premiums through the fucking roof, you've got a business.

It takes a month of service and consistent advertising, but you finally start to see your experiment take shape. A gentleman wearing a half-black, half-white tuxedo walks into your cafe and approaches the counter with visible trepidation, hands stuffed in his pockets and sneering at everybody who makes eye contact with him.

Antiope, the girl currently working the register, clams up a bit, so you send her to the drink station instead and smile at Two-Face's henchman.

"Good morning," you greet him, "welcome to Truce Juice. How can I help you?"

The man looks at you like you've grown a second head. You smile back and gesture to the menu over your head.

"If you need a minute to look at the options, that's fine. I also have handheld menus for better visibility." You pick one up and offer it to him.

"You're actually fuckin' serious," he says, taking his hand out of his pocket. Customers loitering in the cafe flinch back as he does so, but you don't move. He takes the menu from you and glances over it. "...gimme a banana smoothie and a dozen plain bagels. Cream cheese and jelly on the side."

"Sure!" You punch his order into your screen and ring up the total. "Will that be cash or card?"

"What if I didn't wanna pay?" The man smirks. The hand still in his pocket makes a clicking sound. Several customers rush out. You don't move, but the shadow at your feet forms a disk shape and slips underneath the henchman, waiting to suck him into your pocket dimension if he starts getting belligerent.

"Then you don't get the smoothie and bagels," you reply calmly. "I'm running a business, sir. Goods and services are exchanged for money, here."

He clearly wasn't expecting you to say that. He stares at you. You stare back. He blinks incredulously. You blink expectantly back.

"So," you say again, "cash or card?"

"....cash," he mutters, digging into a separate pocket and pulling out his wallet. He hands over a fistful of bills. You ring him up and give him his change.

"Okay! Give us about five minutes. Did you want the bagels toasted?"

The henchman shakes his head. You smile and get to work, the dark disk melting back into your regular shadow. Soon, you're sliding the smoothie and box of bagels across the pick-up counter.

"Here you are. Have a good day!"

The man continues to stare at you like you're some freakish anomaly. You just give him a small nod, then turn to help the next customer brave enough to step inside with him here.

When you check the tip jar later, you see a fistful of hundreds crammed into it.

You feel your heart warm and know you're about to make huge waves in Gotham.

#el speaks #littlest wayne au #batfam x reader

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v6quewrlds · 18 days ago

Text

imagine giving joe a hickey.

author's note⠀⁎⠀requested by @lovelyburrow, some sub!joe undertones (my bad)

Joe was always very selective about PDA. He liked to keep his relationship with you private. It was something sacred to him, not to be shared with the prying eyes of the public or his even teammates. So, when he felt the warmth of your lips on his neck the night before, he didn't think much of it. He had no idea the kisses and nips to his neck would lead him to this.

He entered the hotel conference room, finding Ja'Marr sitting alone as players and coaches began to file in. Sam soon joined them, plopping down next to Joe with an smoothie in hand. The room filled with the low hum of male voices and the occasional burst of laughter as the Bearcats game from that afternoon replayed on the TV screens around the room.

Ja'Marr leaned over, peering at Joe's neck. "Yo, what's that on your neck?" He pointed to his neck, his eyes squinting at the sight before him.

Joe's hand shot up to cover the spot. "What are you talking about?"

"You've got a hickey the size of a quarter, bro," Sam said, his eyes wide as he brought a fist up to cover his mouth, his shoulders shaking with a deep laugh. Ja'Marr's laugh boomed through the room as Joe's eyebrows furrowed, a blush creeping up his neck. He glanced around, hoping no one else had noticed.

"What?" Joe murmured, self-consciously touching the spot.

"Come on, Joe, let's see," Ja'Marr prodded, reaching for his phone to snap a picture.

Joe slapped his hand away, "Fuck no. You're not putting that anywhere," he hissed, his cheeks burning.

Sam leaned back in his chair, grinning. "Looks like someone had a good night."

"Or a good morning," Ja'Marr piped up, still chuckling. "Did your girl sneak in before you came down?"

Joe sighed flipping his camera to selfie mode, dropping his hand, and turning his head to show the offending spot. It was definitely a hickey, a dark, round bruise that stood out against his skin. "No," he muttered, "It's from last night."

Sam leaned in to get a better look. "Damn, she wasn't playing around." He took a sip of his smoothie, pulling back with a smirk when Joe sent him a glare.

Ja'Marr chuckled. "You ain't have to stunt on us like this. Good for you, Joey B."

Joe silently thanked the heavens when Zac stood up at the front of the room, calling for the team's attention. The teasing subsided, but the guys couldn't resist throwing a few more jabs under their breath as they turned their focus to their coach. The meeting dragged on, Joe's thoughts consumed by the unwelcome brand on his neck.

Later that evening, Joe fell back against the crisp hotel sheets. His mind was racing with thoughts of how to cover the hickey before the game tomorrow. He picked up his phone and called you, hoping you would have some kind of ingenious solution. Your face filled the screen, your tired smile brightening at the sight of him.

"Hey, babe," you said, your voice warm and unassuming. "How's the hotel?"

"It's fine," Joe replied, his tone flat. He felt his annoyance rise as he thought about the hickey. "But I've got a problem." He turned his head slightly, showing you the reddish blemish that was beginning to purple around the outer edges.

Your eyes lit up with amusement. "Oh," you giggled. "Is that from last night?"

Joe rolled his eyes. "Yes, it is, and it's not funny."

You couldn't help but laugh, your eyes sparkling. "Well, you never told me to take it easy," you said, your voice teasing. "I got a little carried away. That's not a crime."

Joe felt his own smile tugging at his lips despite his embarrassment. "It's not funny," he said, trying to keep his tone serious, but failing. "What am I gonna do?"

Your laughter subsided, your expression turning thoughtful. "Makeup?" you suggested. "You can get some concealer to cover it up before the game."

"Makeup?" Joe echoed, his disbelief clear. "You want me to wear makeup?"

Your smile grew. "Well, not exactly. You don't have to go full glam. Just a little dab of concealer to even out the skin tone."

Joe groaned, rubbing a hand through his damp hair with a scowl. "Where am I gonna get makeup from? Won't it melt off from the sweat anyway?"

Your eyes danced with amusement. "Well, I guess you gotta own it, Burrow. Maybe it'll be your new good luck charm," you said, leaning closer to the camera to kiss the screen. "From me to you."

Joe couldn't argue with your logic, though the thought of walking onto the field with a glaring hickey didn't sit well with his image. He sighed, nodding. "Alright, I'll figure it out. Thanks for the support," he said, his voice dripping with sarcasm.

"Anytime," you said, your laughter bubbling up again. "Good luck tomorrow. Love you."

Joe couldn't help but smile back. "Love you too." He ended the call, feeling a bit more at ease despite the looming embarrassment of tomorrow. He decided to take your advice and own the hickey. It was a small price to pay for how down bad he was for you. Plus, he had to admit, the idea of you leaving your mark on him was kind of hot.

His confidence lasted until the next afternoon, when Joe found himself in the locker room, surrounded by his teammates and their knowing glances. He felt like he had a neon sign pointing at his neck. The guys didn't let up, making hushed comments and sharing smirks every time he looked their way. It was clear that the news had spread through the team like wildfire. Joe tried to ignore them, focusing on his preparations for the game. But as he pulled on his jersey, the fabric brushed against the tender spot, a stark reminder of his predicament.

He stepped onto the field for warm-ups, the cool air hitting his bare neck. The stadium lights seemed to highlight the hickey even more. Joe felt his jaw clench and his face grow hot, but he forced a straight face as he threw the ball around. He had a game to play, a job to do, and he wasn't about to let a little thing like a hickey throw him off his game.

By the time he returned home that night, a win tucked under his belt, Joe was exhausted. He was looking forward to cuddling with you and forgetting about the long weekend. But the moment he walked through the door, you were trying to suppress your amusement, your eyes dancing every time you looked at him.

"Okay," Joe sighed, his chest deflating beneath your head as he exhaled deeply. "What are you smiling about?"

You couldn't hold it in any longer, bursting into a fit of giggles. "You looked so grumpy all game," you exclaimed, poking his chest playfully. "You were trending on Twitter again."

Joe groaned, his hand sliding from his neck to his face. "I know," he said, his voice muffled by his palm. "Couldn't believe it when Sam told me."

You sat up, your laughter fading into a gentle smile as you reached over to trace the hickey with your finger. "You looked like a spoiled toddler," you said, your eyes sparkling with affection. "It's kind of cute, you know."

Joe rolled his eyes, his irritation from the day melting away. "Cute is not the word I would've chosen," he muttered, but he couldn't help the smile that tugged at the corners of his mouth. "I can't believe you did this to me. Destroyed my neck like a chew toy."

You leaned in to kiss him, your eyes gleaming with mischief. "Could've stopped me," you whispered, your breath warm against his skin. "But you didn't."

Joe chuckled despite his feigned annoyance. "I guess I was a little preoccupied," he admitted, his voice low.

"A little?" you teased, your eyes twinkling. "I think you liked being my chew toy."

Joe's cheeks flushed, and he couldn't help but laugh. "Okay," he conceded. "Maybe a little."

You leaned back, your expression satisfied. "So, you're not mad at me?"

Joe sighed, his annoyance giving way to a fond smile. "Mad? Nah, I can't be mad at you," he said, pulling you closer. "It's just, you know how I feel about PDA. It's all over the internet now."

You shrugged, kissing away his pout. "Well, at least your fangirls know you're taken," you said, planting another kiss on the bruised spot.

Joe grimaced, but couldn't help but feel a warmth spread through him at your touch. "Very funny," he said, his tone laced with affection.

"You have a pretty neck," you whispered playfully, your hand moving to his neck again as your eyes darted over his skin as if examining where you could stake your claim next. "You want another one?"

Joe rolled his eyes but didn't stop you. Your touch was gentle and loving, a welcome contrast from the rough teasing from his teammates. "Just don't make it any bigger," he said, his voice a mix of exasperation and resignation.

#&. joey b.#joe burrow #joe burrow fanfic #joe burrow x reader #joe burrow imagine #joe burrow smut

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prettygirl-gabi · 12 days ago

Text

Title: Love & Bruises

Rating: General Audiences

Pairing: Paige Bueckers x Reader x Azzi Fudd

Fandom: UConn Women’s Basketball

Word Count: 1.5k

Summary: being a volleyball player who bruises easily welp...

I may be a D1 volleyball player, but that doesn’t mean I have the grace of one. Between diving for saves and my uncanny ability to walk into stationary objects, bruises are just part of my personality at this point. My girlfriends, however, aren’t amused.

I yelped as my knee smacked against the edge of the coffee table, my phone nearly slipping from my grasp as I stumbled onto the couch.

"Again?" Azzi’s voice was filled with exasperated amusement from across the room.

I glanced up to see my girlfriend standing in the doorway, arms crossed, an eyebrow raised in that way she always did when she caught me being, well… me.

“What do you mean again?” I tried to play it off, rubbing my knee as if that would magically make the pain disappear.

Azzi stepped forward, eyes narrowing as she scanned me like she was about to interrogate a suspect. “Do you know how many times I’ve seen you run into something this week?”

I shrugged. “Not that many?”

Azzi sighed, dropping her gym bag onto the chair before kneeling in front of me, her fingers gently rolling up my sweatpants to reveal the fresh bruise forming just above my knee. She winced. “Babe…”

“It’s not that bad!” I reassured her, even though I could already tell it was going to turn some deep purple shade by tomorrow.

Azzi looked up at me, her lips pressed into a thin line. “You’ve got bruises on your legs, your arms—” she grabbed my hand, flipping it over to reveal another mark near my wrist. “How does this even happen?”

I blinked at the bruise on my wrist like I was seeing it for the first time. “Huh. Didn’t even notice that one.”

Azzi groaned, dragging a hand down her face. “That does not make me feel better.”

“You’re being dramatic,” I teased, reaching to tuck a stray curl behind her ear. “I’m fine, baby.”

Azzi didn’t look convinced, but before she could start fussing again, the front door opened. Paige walked in, holding a smoothie in one hand and a protein bar in the other. She took one look at the two of us and immediately knew something was up.

“What happened now?” Paige asked, raising an eyebrow as she set her things down.

“She hit her knee on the table,” Azzi reported like she was snitching to the principal.

Paige sighed, walking over to get a closer look. “Didn’t you just have a bruised knee from last game, causeyou forgot your knee pads?”

“yeah, yeah, I have two knees, Paige. It’s a different one this time.”

Paige gave me a deadpan look. “That’s not the flex you think it is.”

Azzi leaned back on her heels, still sitting in front of me. “We need to start wrapping her in bubble wrap.”

Paige nodded, clearly on board. “Or at least put her in some padded gear off the court.”

I groaned, flopping dramatically against the couch cushions. “You both are being ridiculous. It’s just some bruises. It happens when you play volleyball.”

Paige scoffed. “Yeah, but you also bruise from walking.”

I shot her a glare, and she had the audacity to smirk.

Azzi reached up, brushing her fingers gently over my knee. “Does it hurt?”

I bit my lip, trying to ignore the way her touch sent a small shiver up my spine. “Not really.”

Paige crossed her arms. “Okay, and the ones on your arm and hip?”

I hesitated.

Paige smirked, calling my bluff. “Yeah. That’s what I thought.”

Azzi sighed, standing up and offering me a hand. “C’mon. We’re doing a cold plunge.”

My stomach dropped. “Absolutely not.”

Paige tilted her head. “You want those bruises to heal faster, don’t you?”

I narrowed my eyes. “Not at the cost of my dignity.”

Azzi gave me a pointed look. “Y/N, you know the protocol.”

I crossed my arms stubbornly. “I hate the protocol.”

“Too bad,” Paige said, already walking toward the bathroom. “Ice bath. Ten minutes.”

I shot up from the couch, bolting in the opposite direction. “Over my dead body!”

Unfortunately, dating two elite basketball players meant my speed was nothing compared to theirs. Before I even made it three steps, Azzi had me by the waist, lifting me off the ground.

"AZZI, NO—"

"AZZI, YES," she shot back, carrying me toward the tub. Paige was already there, filling it with ice and water, a wicked grin on her face.

“You two are evil!” I shrieked, flailing uselessly in Azzi’s arms.

Paige turned, feigning offense. “Evil? Us? We’re just making sure our girlfriend can still walk by the end of the season.”

Azzi lowered me toward the water, and I started thrashing harder. “No! Let me go! This is illegal!”

“You’ll thank us later,” Paige sang as she grabbed my legs.

The second my skin met the water, I let out a blood-curdling scream.

“OH MY GOD—”

Paige and Azzi held me down as I tried to climb out, their laughter mixing with my suffering.

"You need to stay in for at least fifteen minutes," Azzi reminded me.

"FIFTEEN MINUTES?! I'M GONNA DIE IN HERE!"

Paige snorted. “A little dramatic, don’t you think?”

I glared at both of them. “I hate you.”

Paige smirked. “You love us.”

I pouted, my teeth chattering. “Not right now, I don’t.”

By the time they finally let me out, I was a shivering mess. I snatched a towel and stormed off to the bedroom, wrapping myself up like a burrito and refusing to acknowledge either of them.

Forty-five minutes later, I was still sulking. Well, sulking and on Instagram Live with KK.

“So, Y/N, how was your game?” KK asked, propping her phone up.

“Game was good,” I muttered. “Got a few bruises, though.”

KK laughed. “When don’t you?”

“That’s exactly what Paige and Azzi said.” I rolled my eyes. “They held me down in an ice bath. Held me down like I was being waterboarded.”

From across the room, Paige and Azzi gasped dramatically.

“Wow,” Paige said, crossing her arms.

“Talking about us behind our backs?” Azzi added, raising an eyebrow.

“I said what I said,” I deadpanned.

KK cackled. “Nah, they did you dirty, girly pop.”

Paige and Azzi exchanged a look before climbing onto the bed, sandwiching me between them.

“You mad at us, baby?” Paige cooed, kissing my cheek.

Azzi wrapped her arms around my waist. “You should be thanking us.”

I huffed, still playing up my grudge. “Bribery won’t work.”

Paige smirked. “Not even if we order your favorite food?”

I hesitated. “...What kind of food are we talking?”

Azzi grinned. “Whatever you want, babe.”

I sighed, finally relenting. “Fine. But next time, I get a say in my own suffering.”

“No promises,” Paige said with a wink.

I groaned, but as I let them pull me closer, their warmth melting away my last bits of annoyance, I figured maybe—just maybe—the ice bath was worth it after all. Maybe.

---

■■■■■■■■■■■■■■■■■■■■■■

-Thank You For Reading!🩵🩶

-prettygirl-gabi🎀✨️

#gabi writes #support the writers!#gabi answers #uconn wbb #paige bueckers #°~prettygirlgabi ask~°#uconn huskies #uconn women’s basketball #oneshot #wbb #pazzi x reader #pazzi #pazzi fics #paige x reader #azzi fudd x reader #paige bueckers x reader #azzi x reader #paige x azzi

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23victoria · 1 month ago

Text

Cuntiltons pt.2

pairings: 𝓵𝓮𝔀𝓲𝓼 𝓱𝓪𝓶𝓲𝓵𝓽𝓸𝓷 𝔁 𝓯𝓮𝓶!𝓻𝓮𝓪𝓭𝓮𝓻

synopsis: 𝓼𝓸𝓶𝓮𝓫𝓸𝓭𝔂 𝓭𝓮𝓬𝓲𝓭𝓮𝓭 𝓽𝓸 𝓽𝓱𝓻𝓸𝔀 𝓼𝓸𝓶𝓮 𝓼𝓱𝓸𝓽𝓼 𝓪𝓽 𝔂/𝓷 𝓪𝓷𝓭 𝓼𝓱𝓮'𝓼 𝓷𝓸𝓽 𝓵𝓮𝓽𝓽𝓲𝓷𝓰 𝓲𝓽 𝓼𝓵𝓲𝓭𝓮

authors note: 𝓱𝓸𝓹𝓮 𝔂𝓸𝓾 𝓰𝓾𝔂𝓼 𝓮𝓷𝓳𝓸𝔂!!

𝔀𝓪𝓷𝓷𝓪 𝓫𝓮 𝓪𝓹𝓪𝓻𝓽 𝓸𝓯 𝓶𝔂 𝓽𝓪𝓰𝓵𝓲𝓼𝓽?! CLICK HERE!

F1 MASTERLIST The Cuntiltons Pt. 1

f1fashiontrends

liked by daddylewis, westany/nl/n, loveyln, hamazinglew, f1 gossip and 151,141 more

Y/N L/N and Lewis Hamilton are both wearing the color red, although different shades, today ahead of today’s Free Practice 1-2!! A sneak peek into the future as Lewis has signed a multi-year contract for Ferrari making history! Are you guys ready to officially see Lewis is red! Let us know below!!

user1 ohhh they ate!!

user13 red looks so good on them omgg!!! 🤩

user3 they are so hot! 🥵

user45 so cuntyyyy!! 😫

user7 they are such a hot couple!!

The air at the track is buzzing with excitement as you and Lewis arrive together, stepping out of the sleek black Mercedes. Cameras flash, and fans cheer loudly when they spot you both. Dressed in a perfectly tailored outfit that screams elegance and confidence, you’re every bit the superstar they expect to see. As you walk hand-in-hand with Lewis, fans call out for photos.

“Y/N, can we get a picture?” a young fan asks shyly, holding out her phone.

You stop and kneel slightly to her height, flashing her a warm smile. “Of course, sweetheart. What’s your name?”

“Lila,” she says, blushing as you take the selfie with her.

“Beautiful name, Lila. Thanks for saying hi,” you tell her. Then another fan approaches, this time gushing, “I just saw your new movie last week, and I loved it so much! You were incredible.”

You laugh softly, reaching out to lightly touch their arm. “Thank you so much! You’ve just made my day. And I have to say, your outfit is killing it. Love the style!”

The fan grins, and you both exchange a quick selfie before you turn back to Lewis, who’s watching the interaction with an affectionate smile. “You know, if I didn’t have you to myself, I think the fans would keep you here all day,” he teases, wrapping an arm around your waist as the two of you walk toward the paddock.

“Can you blame them?” you joke, giving him a playful nudge. “Besides, it’s nice to feel the love.”

⋆｡°✩₊☾₊✩°｡⋆ ⋆｡°✩₊☾₊✩°｡⋆

Later, you’re lounging in Lewis’s motorhome, flipping through your phone as he stretches out beside you, sipping a smoothie. It’s a rare moment of calm before the chaos of the race weekend. “So, how are you feeling about today?” you ask him, resting your head on his shoulder.

“Confident,” he replies, placing his hand over yours. “But having you here makes it ten times better. You’re like my lucky charm.”

You smile, about to respond, when your phone suddenly starts buzzing nonstop. Confused, you glance at the notifications piling in. Moments later, Lewis’s phone starts ringing too. “What the hell is going on?” you mutter, opening Twitter as Lewis answers the call.

Your jaw tightens as you scroll through a clip of Christian Horner’s latest press conference, where a reporter asked about you and Lewis’s presence at the track after a tough qualifying session.

“Well, actually, no,” Horner had said with a smirk. “If anything, it’s distracting. She walks around like she owns the place, and frankly, I don’t think her presence does much for the sport. I mean, she’s supposed to be a model, but I’ve never even seen her on a runway. Maybe if she focused on her job, she’d be less of a distraction for everyone else.”

You stare at the screen in disbelief as Lewis ends his call, already fuming. “That fucking prick,” he growls, pacing the room. “Who the hell does he think he is, talking about you like that?”

You laugh dryly, shrugging it off. “Please, that’s embarrassing for him. I don’t even think about him, let alone mention his name. It’s giving desperate, isn’t it?”

Lewis pauses, his face softening as he looks at you. “Still, love, he had no right to say that. You’re ten times the star he’ll ever be.”

You kiss his cheek, trying to lighten the mood. “Baby, don’t let it ruin your focus. He’s not worth it.”

He nods, but his jaw remains tight. “I’m going to get ready for FP1 and FP2. I’ll deal with this later,” he says, heading off to change into his race gear.

⋆｡°✩₊☾₊✩°｡⋆ ⋆｡°✩₊☾₊✩°｡⋆

During Free Practice 1 and 2, the topic of Christian’s comments dominates the paddock. Reporters approach drivers for their thoughts.

George, ever the diplomat, shakes his head. “I think Christian’s got it all wrong. Y/N is an incredible presence here. She’s a huge inspiration and brings more attention to the sport, not less.”

Lando laughs when asked. “Are you kidding? Y/N’s literally an icon. If anything, she makes the paddock cooler just by being here. Christian’s just jealous he doesn’t have her supporting his team.”

Charles adds his perspective, speaking with quiet conviction. “I don’t agree with Christian at all. I’ve seen Y/N on the runway—she’s a star in every sense of the word. And she and Lewis together? That’s something special. They bring so much positivity.”

Carlos chuckles. “Come on, have you seen Y/N? Everyone loves her. Christian’s comments are just... I don’t know, misplaced. She’s amazing.”

But it’s Yuki who surprises everyone with his bluntness. “Christian said that? That’s ridiculous. Y/N brings more fans to F1 than he does. Maybe he should focus on his own team instead of insulting people.”

Finally, Lewis takes his turn with the press. When asked about Christian’s remarks, his expression hardens. “That’s a ridiculous take,” he says firmly. “Y/N is one of the most successful people in the world. She’s not just a model or an actress—she’s an icon. And maybe the reason Christian hasn’t seen her on a runway is that he can’t afford a seat or doesn’t get invited to those kinds of events.”

The reporters laugh nervously as Lewis finishes, walking off without another word.

As you and Lewis prepare to leave the paddock, reporters swarm you. One steps forward, asking directly, “Y/N, do you have any response to Christian Horner’s comments?”

You pause, glancing at Lewis, who gives you a reassuring nod. Turning back to the cameras, you smile sweetly before delivering your response.

“Well, first of all, I want to thank everyone who defended me today. You’ve all been amazing—especially Lewis.” You squeeze his hand before continuing, your tone sharp now. “As for Christian… let’s be honest, his comments say a lot more about him than they do about me. It’s embarrassing, really. I don’t think about him, I don’t talk about him, and I certainly don’t care about his opinions.”

You pause for dramatic effect, tilting your head. “Maybe instead of worrying about me, Christian should focus on those sexual assault allegations against him. Seems like a better use of his time, don’t you think?”

The crowd goes silent, stunned by your boldness. A few reporters gape openly, while others scramble to jot down your words. Beside you, Lewis mutters, “Oh, shit,” before bursting into laughter.

You smile, turning to walk away but not before adding one final line. “I’ll be waiting for my apology, Christian. Much love, everyone. Have a great day!”

As you stride off, Lewis catches up to you, still laughing. “That was hot of you, love,” he says, pulling you close. “Remind me never to get on your bad side.”

You smirk, leaning into him. “Don’t worry, baby. You’re my favorite.”

He kisses your temple as the two of you leave the paddock, hand in hand, ready to let the world talk.

yln_l/n

liked by oscarpiastri, badgirlriri, alexandrasaintmleux, dior, chanel, lewishamilton, sza, arianagrande and 16,151,981 more

you’ll never be on my level 💋

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lewishamilton love you baby 😘

user4 h*one* who?!? oh okay!

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landonorris levels to this shit!! 🙂‍↕��🙂‍↕️

user6 queen shit!!

badgirlriri boss shit!

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