#THE RETURN OF THE INTERVIEW SEATS

[nemisuki]

flirty co-star || satoru gojo x gn!reader, jjk drabbles, pure fluff, 418 words (◡̀_◡́)ᕤ

actor!gojo who is always spotted—in all the behind the scenes snippets—clinging to your every move. that man is all over you, hugging your waist like it's the most natural thing in the world. your smiling and waving to the camera, casually explaining what's happening in the scene, but then like clock work, he's suddenly behind you, giving you a good morning hug and kiss on the temple as he arrives on set, shining his cocky grin to the camera as he casually rests his arms around your shoulders.

actor!gojo who ignores his manager's scolding, shrugging as he continues his shameless clinging, remaining at your side at every red carpet, interview or season premiere. the fans are getting wild, reposting the same clip where he grows extremely protective of you in public outings, unapologetically shoving away some people who got a little too close to you for autographs, not caring about the potential backlash online, because if your safe, that's all that matters.

actor!gojo who mentions you in every single interview, honestly, the question has nothing to do with the show but your name is falling right out his mouth at the first given moment. it happens so much that it's widely known in the industry, all interviewers now ask a question pertaining to you to keep him engaged, which works wonders with the way he sits up straighter in his seat, now enthusiastically rambling about your little habits on set.

actor!gojo who starts getting pouty when you're taken away by the glam team for touch-ups, he's stubbornly following close behind, insisting on needing extra hairspray just to be at your side. you can only laugh when he's dramatically pulled back on set, watching him whine the whole way back, until you return a few minutes later with a smoothie in your hands, which he takes it upon himself to take a little sip from, not caring about an indirect kiss as he teasingly smiles at your surprised expression.

actor!gojo who finds himself frowning at some stupid shipping wars in the comment sections, noticing how some fans think you and another cast member look cute together—oh hell no—not on his watch. he's immediately on edge all day, but when you end up sleeping against his shoulder in the lounge area, he smirks to himself, pulling out his phone to snap a quick picture, and eventually posting it on his insta story, tagging you with a little heart next to it, hmph, that'll show them!

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[rayveneyed]

sukuna ryomen is somewhat of an infamous bachelor.

it’s not surprising to see him with a new beau every few months, if not weeks — almost trope-like in their frequency, his image bouncing between playboy and manwhore. he doesn’t take it personally, and he makes sure to let people know: he’s young and sexy and he has two oscars, for fuck’s sake, so he thinks the world can cut him some slack when he wants to mess around. and mess around he does.

between obvious paparazzi shots of panties tucked badly into his back pocket, and instagram posts with fellow actors and models pressed tightly against his chest, most are divided between thinking it’s either damn good pr, or a simple man living a life most would wish for. regardless, nobody is surprised when sukuna arrives alone at the mugler show for paris fashion week, and leaves with someone on his arm.

the only thing that came as a bolt from the blue was that it was you hanging from him.

the photos are undeniable, a story in parts; sukuna finding his seat in the front row, you on one side and kendall jenner on his other. his eyes drifting from the models to your face, as if taking a clandestine peek. you, meeting his underhanded gaze with a smile as sweet as spun sugar — and, gasp, sukuna returning it. the display is so out of character for him it feels almost voyeuristic to see it plastered all over twitter.

you, with your vintage, girl-next-door-esque image, big hair and big eyes and demure, calf-length hems, a voice that evokes the memory of helen forrest or ella fitzgerald. him, with his smudged eyeliner and tattoos and all-black attire, persistently typecasted as the panty-dropping bad-boy or devil-smiled brute. it shouldn’t work. for all intents and purposes, he should be spotted with a new supermodel the next week, leaving you in the dust of his philandering. most expect it, wait for the other boot to drop — expect an album of heartbreak from you, but—

a month passes. and another, and another. and suddenly sukuna ryomen, notorious rake, is photographed backstage at your shows. suddenly there’s an anklet hanging from your ankle, his initials in garnet. it’s early morning paparazzi pictures of you both in sweatpants and hoodies — yours, suspiciously oversized — one of his hands engulfing yours, the other holding a bag of takeout from a local breakfast spot, a lit cigarette in his mouth. hickies on your neck and a shit-eating grin on sukuna’s face. candid snaps taken at intimately sized parties, with his chin hooked over your shoulder and his large hands cupping your stomach. tiktoks of you both on the red carpet in the background of somebody else’s interview, sukuna leaning in close to brush an eyelash from your cheek.

neither of you confirm anything, but then — you don’t need to, do you?

[crushpunky]

drew and actress!reader read thirst tweets

masterlist | actress!reader masterlist

warning: a little bit thirsty, as expected <3

The cast settled into their seats as the crew finished setting up the cameras and lighting.

“Why am I more nervous for this than any of the other interviews?” Madelyn laughed, straightening up her dress. The cast had already done a handful of different interviews for the third season of Outer Banks, the famous (or infamous) “Thirst Tweets” the last on the docket.

“No I am too, babes.” Y/n said, shaking Madelyn’s leg playfully. The three girls, Madelyn, Madison, and y/n, sat in front chatting while the boys, JD and Drew, were getting their hair “refreshed” before they began shooting.

“Alright, so here are your tweets,” one of the crew members said, handing each of them a phone preloaded with tweets of varying degrees of horniness.

“Oh my—” JD started to shout, but was cut off when Madison elbowed him.

“Don’t start yet!” Madison giggled, resting her phone in her lap, a blush already rising in her cheeks.

“Ok, you guys good?” The cameraman asked, shooting the cast a thumbs up.

“Yes!” The five of them shouted in unison as the camera began to roll.

“Alrighty, take it away… Madelyn.” The secondary camera operator focused on Madelyn, who looked down at her phone.

“Ok, this one is pretty straightforward: ‘Madelyn Cline is a mother’.” Madelyn giggled.

“Not just ‘a mother’, ‘mother’.” Madison corrected, causing Madelyn to shake her head bashfully.

“Ok, ok, Mads you go.” Y/n said, elbowing Madison lightly.

“‘Madison Bailey please kiss me’...” Madison looked into the camera, a cheeky grin on her face. “Ha, ha… no.”

The cast laughed before returning to their phones, looking through their tweets.

“‘Jonathan Davis I am free tomorrow at 5 pm if you want to go on a date and hold hands! And… redacted, redacted, redacted’.” Jonathan read.

“Sounds… fun?” Y/n commented, glancing back at JD, an eyebrow raised.

“Oh, ‘it’s true. Drew Starkey makes me go feral’.” Drew read sheepishly, his cheeks flushing. JD started to make some sort of animal noise, Drew joining in, the two of them playfully going “feral” behind the girls.

“Y/n, does Drew Starkey make you go feral?” Madelyn asked teasingly.

“Not in whatever way they were doing.” Y/n stifled a laugh, turning back to Drew, who shook his head with a grin.

“Ok, sure. You go, baby.” Drew said, rolling his eyes playfully.

“Alright…” Y/n scrolled, looking for a good tweet before continuing, “‘y/n is so fine, like please ruin my life I beg of you’. Wow, thanks I guess? For letting me ruin your life?”

The cast laughed before continuing back to their tweets, each of them feeling flushed and flattered by the very kind tweets.

“‘Before I watched Outer Banks I always classified the rich as annoying and vowed I’d never simp over one…’” Drew read, “‘until I met Rafe Cameron and flew up his ass like a bat’?”

“‘Flew up his ass like a bat’?” Y/n asked incredulously, her mouth agape.

“If somebody walked up to you on the street and said that to you…?” Madelyn asked Drew.

“Marry me.” Drew said nonchalantly.

“Drew, I need to ask you a question—” Y/n began, but collapsed into a fit of laughter before she could get the words out.

“Can I ‘fly up your ass like a bat’?” JD finished, making eye contact with Drew before the two of them moved in for a dramatic kiss, falling away just before their lips would’ve met. The girls let out surprised screams, grabbing onto each other before laughing.

“‘I love my boyfriend with all my heart, I truly do, but Madelyn Cline can sit on my face she’s so beautiful’.” Madelyn read, a small smirk on her face.

“Wow, that’s a lot… real.” Y/n said. Drew’s head whipped up, a look of confusion on his face.

“Is there something you need to tell us?” JD quipped, causing y/n to realize exactly what she said.

“No, no, no,” Y/n chuckled. “Madelyn Cline is very beautiful, but I am still very much feral for Drew Starkey.”

“You’ve got a thing for Camerons?” Madison asked, Madelyn and Drew leaning in with mischievous smiles on their faces.

“Yep, yep, that’s it.” Y/n laughed, nodding into the camera.

“‘Y/n is so beautiful, Drew Starkey can you fight?’” Y/n read with a chuckle, turning to look at Drew.

“Yes, yes I can.” Drew said into the camera, his face completely serious.

“Drew wouldn’t hurt a fly.” Madelyn clarified.

“Oh no, no, I will. Trust.” Drew raised his eyebrows, wrapping an arm around y/n’s shoulders before pressing a kiss to the top of her head. The cast let out a collective “awww”, y/n giggling bashfully.

“‘Drew Starkey could rail me anyday. Respectfully’.” Drew chuckled nervously. Madelyn and Madison looked between each other, their jaws dropped.

“Once again, I’m flattered. But… that’s reserved for this one—” Drew grabbed y/n’s shoulder, shaking her playfully. Y/n immediately put her hands over her face, hoping to cover the flustered expression on her face.

“Oh my god.” Y/n mumbled into her hands, the other cast members bursting out into fits of laughter at Drew’s boldness.

“Alright, and cut!” The cameraman said, the cast letting out cheers as they got up from their seats. As they stood, y/n felt a pair of arms wrap around her waist before turning back to Drew.

“How you feeling, baby?” Drew hummed, grinning down at y/n cheekily.

“Flattered. Very.” Y/n giggled, pressing a kiss to Drew’s jaw.

“Well, a lot of those tweets certainly had some… good ideas.” Drew whispered.

“Starkey! You’re… too much.” Y/n felt her cheeks warm as Drew kissed her languidly.

“Am I wrong though, baby?” He teased.

“Let’s see when we get to the hotel.” Y/n said, stepping away from Drew and grabbing his hand as they made their way out of the studio… but she had a feeling they probably weren’t going to make it to the hotel.

[mv1simp]

Vegas, Baby (I Wanna Ride) ♥️

Max Verstappen x Friend!Reader

welcome to vegas baby, give me money, give me diamonds, give me rubies baby (get on your knees and beg me please to let you in me)

Tonight's a big night for the Redbull team in Las Vegas. Max Verstappen just won his 4th WDC, and you, his good friend, just won your first F2 race. After months of rising sexual tension, the line between you and Max starts blurring during a wild Vegas afterparty. Nothing beats crowning a 4th championship than passionate celebration sex, right?

Content includes: 18+ MDNI, smut, dom! Max, sub! Reader who’s playing mind games to seduce him, size kink, praise kink, cream pie, morally dubious relationship status but no cheating, drunk passionate sex with max post WDC is literally the epitome of my dreams, 5.3k WC

Max! The blonde Dutchman’s concentration shifts from one of the many post Las Vegas Grand Prix interviews he’s been coerced into to hear your familiar voice excitedly calling for him. His cute smile turns into an even more gorgeous grin as he spots you making a beeline across the media pen, long curls flying behind you. The cameras rapidly start stuttering as you practically leap into Max’s arms when he tightly hugs you back, lifting you up off the ground easily. Congratulations, Maxie! you gush excitedly, beaming up at him with genuine emotion. I’m so happy for you, you deserve this win so much!

Pink dusts the cheeks of the now 4 time world champion from your attention as he looks down at your shorter frame, his muscular arms snugly around your waist. You couldn’t care less about the sticky champagne drenching his suit, because your own RB suit is wet from your celebration of winning the F2 race earlier that day. You too, schatje, Max returns warmly, the paparazzi completely ignored. Winning your first race, in Las Vegas too, from P11? I’m so proud of you! Now you're blushing as he tousles your hair affectionately. You two are just good friends, of course, and Max is in a relationship with a model - even though it's a rather turbulent one. But the F1 gossip mill is always running rampant with rumours about your relationship with Max - especially with the overfamiliar touches you're both now leaving with lingering hands on each other.

The interviewers flock at the chance to interview the F1 and F2 champions together, who provide them with entertaining answers fueled by the 3rd G&T that Max has already started drinking from his Redbull bottle. You smirk and raise your own bottle to cheers against his, making Max’s icy blue eyes twinkle with amusement as he realises you’re very much on the same wavelength of starting celebrations early. Great minds think alike, right Maxie? you wink conspiratorially, making him laugh. The media reps are basically forgotten as the pair of you end up in your own conversation of excited yapping about adrenaline fueled moments from your races, littered with inside jokes lost to the viewers.

When his PR manager calls Max's name, trying to prevent anymore dubious scandals, the blonde looks apologetically towards you, promising that the two of you would have to celebrate properly tonight, okay? You nod eagerly as you watch him go for the rest of his media duties, your smile so wide that your cheeks almost hurt. You’re still buzzing with adrenaline of your own win, and know that your own manager won’t be happy with the pictures of you practically climbing Max to hug him, not an inch of space between you as he pulls you against him. After all, the tabloids love to speculate that there’s something more between the Redbull 3 time - now 4! - world champion and you, the rising talent in F2 with your Redbull Academy seat, and one of the very few women on the grid.

That’s how you and Max had met - on the Redbull practice circuit, the two of you the only ones wanting to practise in horrific conditions of rain and hail. He’d been curious to see another car with the familiar Bull logo out on the track, and then found himself even more curious when the helmet came off to reveal your cutely flushed face and pretty curls that fell down your back. You became fast friends, after you got along your initial awe of 3x WDC Max Verstappen casually giving you driving pointers. He was actually an incredibly humble and loyal friend, and you appreciated how much time he'd spent out of his busy schedule to help you. Meanwhile, Max found your conversation and humour so refreshing compared to other junior drivers who would suck up to him, and you were never afraid to give Max a piece of your mind with your fiery, passionate personality - similar to his. For the first time in months since he'd started dating his demanding girlfriend, who always told Max off for being too loud or making immature jokes, Max found himself genuinely relaxing and speaking freely.

So with all the time on the practise track, and then off the track when you moved to Monaco and began attending the same parties, padel games and hungover brunches with Max, it was no surprise the two of you had become good friends - with a lot of speculation from the public. Many of his fans and friends disliked his current relationship with the pretty model who constantly used Max's name for her own clout with little interest in his passion for racing and e-sim gaming. In comparison, the easy laughs and witty banter seen frequently between you and Max had many conspiring that you'd be a far better match for the F1 champion. Especially in today's Las Vegas interviews, where the growing electric chemistry was palpable to viewers even through the screen.

Of course, you'd never admit to anyone that you secretly agreed with all the gossip columns. You and Max were perfectly suited for each other - but you would never be able to tell him, especially as you didn't have the slightest idea if Max liked you back or even found you attractive since he was so outgoing and touchy with all his close friends. For the past couple of months you'd been secretly pining for him, eyeing his moody girlfriend jealously as she yanked him from celebrations to go home early. You'd starting catching yourself staring up at the gorgeous blonde with heart eyes when he'd patiently explain some new racing tactic to you. No guy could come close to Max in your mind, and you're becoming increasingly sexually frustrated as the object of your desires stayed out of your reach but you aren't hook up with anyone else. So much so that in the week before Las Vegas, you'd started having some very dirty dreams involving a tall, muscular, blonde ending training early and bending you over the hood of his car as he whispered accented Dutch in your ear. Gonna let me fuck you now, baby? You'll take all of my cock, just like I taught you, right?

You knew it was so, so wrong to secretly lust after your friend and teammate like this - especially since he was taken. But tonight, with the thrill of winning your first ever F2 race in frickin' Vegas of all places, at the same time as Max taking his 4th WDC...Well, let's just say you were feeling especially wild tonight. Taking another shot of gin as you got ready in your spacious hotel bathroom, you admire the sight of yourself in the mirror. You're lot more dressed up than usual, out of your racing suit for once . Smokey eyeshadow compliments your wide, doe eyes and long hair you’d blown out in loose curls, all to show off the main view of a tight, sparkly red minidress that pushed up your tits perfectly. You certainly looked the part of a winner out on a hunt for the best way to celebrate tonight, and your best friend agreed as she whistled when walking into the bathroom. Girl, goddamn, that dress looks insanely sexy on you! she gushed, making you shoot her a pleased smile. Trying to catch a certain someone’s attention tonight? she added with a teasing look. Don’t worry, Max won’t be able to keep his eyes off you!

You let out an embarrassed yelp and tell her to shut up, you were not into him like that! Used to your denials, your friend rolls her eyes fondly and tells you you’d been practically moaning his name when you’d been napping earlier, you little slut! She puts you out of your misery when your face goes as red as your dress by adding in that she’d heard his girlfriend wasn’t here tonight to celebrate - apparently, she was pissed he hadn’t flown her out on his private jet and he’d decided to take a break. Winking, she tells you that Max is all yours tonight! You shoo her away but your heart’s nervously skipping a beat with the news. Slipping on your impressive six inch stilettos with glittery straps circling around your legs, you make your way to the after party downstairs.

The bass is thumping, drinks easily flowing and the crowded hotel nightclub buzzing with energy tonight where many of the racing drivers and fans have come to celebrate tonight. You’d meant to go find Max when you got there, but are pulled into excited hugs by lots of your own friends and team members to congratulate you. Soon enough, a few hours have passed and you’re very pleasantly tipsy, giggling and twirling around on the dance floor with your girlfriends and quite a few guys who are running appreciative looks over your pretty figure. But when your wide doe eyes finally meet icy blue across the room, all other men are forgotten and you're making your way over in a heartbeat.

Schatje, Max greets you easily, interrupting the conversations people crowding around him were trying to start. You give him an adoring smile as you wrap your arms around those ridiculously wide shoulders of his when he pulls you into him. The alcohol you’ve both been drinking lowers your boundaries as you giggle into his ears you’ve been looking everywhere for him! He chuckles, telling you that he’d been right here, but you’d been too popular with everyone else tonight. Too busy for me now that you’re a F2 winner? he teases. You playfully push his broad chest, admiring how toned his muscles are under your freshly manicured palm. Maybe, you tease back. I only enjoy the company of drivers who are five time world champions, at least. Seen Lewis anywhere?

Max’s gorgeous blue eyes crinkle in amusement as he tips his head back to laugh, and you're staring up his thick neck, enjoying the sight of his angular jaw and plush lips with a cute freckle you wanted so desperately to kiss. Reminding yourself not to get too carried away until you had some idea how Max felt, you tugged at his biceps to indicate you wanted him to follow you. He easily took your hand in his, intertwining your fingers together as you pull him towards the second floor. This was a pretty frequent for you two, breaking off from a crowded party to yap and gossip about some drama or catch up without all eyes on you. Just as you reach the stairs, one of your team’s engineers calls out to you, giving you a tight embrace that lasts a few seconds too long to be a friendly congratulations. You don’t really notice though, too relaxed and happy, and gush your thank you’s to him as he compliments how well you drove today. He’s pretty cute, and you’re starting to get carried away in the conversation until a warm, large palm curls possessively around your curvy hips. A shiver runs up your spine as Max’s deep voice drawls out behind you that he was bored, can you two go upstairs now?

You immediately turn your focus back onto the attractive blonde, assuring him Of course, Maxie! Your arm wraps around his bicep to steady yourself as you two walk upstairs, your high heels clicking against the marble floor. Your abruptly forgotten engineer receives a rather smug smirk from Max. When you’re finally alone in a tiny powder room, small enough that you have to stand close together with the locked door but well lit by an illuminated mirror atop the counter, Max can’t resist a snarky that engineer seemed very into you.

You dismiss Max’s claims, telling him to stop joking around as you leaned into the mirror to repply your lip gloss. No, he was definitely checking you out, Max responds behind you. His already deep accent you’d always had a thing for turns even huskier. Can’t blame him though…you look fucking incredible tonight.

Desire curls in your gut as you gasp at his unexpected compliment, glancing to see Max’s blue eyes locked onto you through the mirror. The Dutchman’s gaze is sharp despite the tipsy flush on his cheeks as it wanders up your lush thighs, accentuated by your stilettos, over your juicy ass and hips before coming to meet your pretty eyes. There’s no denying the hungry expression he wears, especially as you slowly finish applying your lip gloss, drawing his attention to your tempting pink lips. He looks like a lion starving to sink his fangs into his next meal.

You swallow, suddenly feeling a little shy as you avoid his gaze, even though you'd dolled up tonight just for him. You should be saying something like that to your girlfriend, you say suddenly. Where is she, anyways? Max rolls his eyes at the reminder, unamused with the change of topic. Fuck knows, he says exasperatedly. I don’t care anymore, we’re taking a break. You turn to face him, raising an eyebrow as you coyly ask Just a break? What, she’s trying to find a billionaire because a F1 millionaire just isn’t cutting it?

Max chuckles at your not so subtle dig, knowing how you felt about his rather superficial girlfriend. But instead of letting it go, tonight you decide to continue and ask him why he was still with her? He shrugs, telling you it was just easier at this point to stay with her instead of the drama of a messy breakup, and dating hot but 2D models was what everyone expected of F1 drivers anyway.

You narrow your eyes, a little annoyed now, and step closer to Max to announce that’s stupid, since when did he do what others expect of him instead of what he wanted? Besides, he deserved a girlfriend who actually cared for him as a person, who celebrated each of his wins and losses, and on a night like tonight - well, he should be getting whatever he wanted from her, you added playfully. You’ve ended up so close that Max can feel the warmth of your soft tits pressed up against his chest, the heels you’re wearing helping your height. He can't resist admiring at the way your cleavage bounces every time you passionately speak.

Whatever I want, huh? Max murmurs lowly, his blue eyes dark with desire as he suddenly leans down, making your eyes widen and thick lashes flutter. His thumb softly brushes across your cheeks to press against your lower lip, parting your mouth slightly. He’s silent for a moment, choosing his next words carefully, and then - What if all I want is you?

You gasp, both with excitement and shock at the realisation that Max returned your feelings. A coy smile appears on your lips as you press your hands to his firm chest, leaning up to whisper into his ear that he was lucky, then, because you'd been looking for a way to congratulate him properly.

He grins wickedly as you return his hungry look, your normally sparkling eyes now sultry with desire. Oh yeah? he says lowly, large palms skimming your waist. And what were you thinking would be the proper way to say congratulations?

There’s no going back to friendship after this, the blurred line well and truly vanishing. Thank god, because you couldn’t take the sexual frustration any longer. You’d heard that the sex after winning in Vegas is really good…and since he’d ended up winning the championship, he deserved to fuck you long and hard, right?

Max’s breath hitches at your offer, his already semi erect cock hardening. Fuck, schatje, he breathes, his lips so close to yours they’re almost touching. That mouth of yours…I didn’t know it could be so dirty. Makes me want to ruin it. You smile with faux innocence, batting your lashes up at him. Why don’t you, Max? Ruin me, then.

That’s all it takes for his lips to lock into yours, a gentle first kiss between friends quickly turning into a sloppy, heated make out that has you drooling against him. Been wanting to do this forever, Max groans in between deep kisses. You giggle, asking him what his girlfriend would think of that. Who? Max says, looking genuinely confused as he leans in again to slide his tongue in to explore your mouth. Oh, the ex? You laugh into the kiss, knowing any other woman would be out of the picture by the time you’ve shown Max just how he deserved to be treated tonight.

Suddenly you’re being lifted up easily to sit on the marble counter, squealing at his impressive strength. He greedily presses against you, your lush thighs parting easily around his narrow waist. It’s a good thing the club’s bass is so loud, otherwise any passerbys would hear the wet, sensual moans of you passionately making out. Max’s bear paws of hands squeeze your thighs and plump ass firmly, making your minidress ride up so he could feel your dampening panties as you start grinding against his impressive bulge through his jeans. Fuck, schatje, you’re already this wet? Max breathes, blue eyes blown with desire when he pulls back for a second as you both pant. Only for you, Maxie you say adoringly, running manicured hands along his broad shoulders and into his soft, blonde locks. Whatever you want tonight, remember? So tell me, what would the world champion like next?

Max inhales sharply at your obedient words, at how you’re looking up at his darkened blue eyes with so much devotion. It fills him with an inexplicable need to have you all to himself, not just tonight but every night from now. You decide to give him a gentle nudge, guiding his large palms to cup your full breasts through your dress. You keep looking at my chest, Maxie. Do you want to see what’s underneath my dress? Max’s jaw drops open as you help his fingers tug down your neckline, letting it fall to your waist and leaving you half dressed in a lacy navy blue bra.

My favourite colour, Max says absentmindedly, too distracted with the heavenly vision in front of him. When you giggle and tell him you know, that’s why you wore it! he groans lowly, yanking the lace down so your full breasts lay exposed to his hungry gaze. So fucking pretty, he breathes, you look so good in my colours, schatje.

You can’t respond because you’re moaning again from his thick fingers squeezing your bouncing tits, circling your sensitive, hard nipples before latching his mouth over your areolas. Oh, Maxie! Mmm, feels so good! He hums with your tits inside his talented mouth, enjoying your sweet moans in his ears as he leaves a trail of hickeys over your chest and neck. You’re getting wetter by the second, and judging from the large, hard bulge you’re desperately humping, you’re certain Max is just as turned on as you are. But tonight’s about congratulating him, and you can’t get too distracted, tugging at the white t-shirt he’s wearing. Your turn!

Max smirks, and yanks his shirt off in half a second. Now you’re temporarily short circuiting at his broad pecs, ogling his thick upper arms and shoulders that taper down to his slim hips. You can’t resist tracing a path down his defined abs with your manicured fingers, making Max tease you with like what you see, schatje?

You shut him up as your hand comes to rest just above his belt buckle, brushing his blonde happy trail but going no further. Hmm, I’ve seen better, you tease back coyly. His jaw hardens as you come tantalisingly close to where he really wants to feel you. When he wraps his hand around yours to stop your games, you surprise him again when you bring your joined hands up to your lips. Curiosity piqued, he watched you intently as you press the pad of his pointer finger onto your swollen lips like he’d done earlier…and then part your lips to slide him inside till the knuckle. Oh, fucking hell, Max hisses lowly.

You don’t miss a beat, staring right into his eyes sultrily as you swirl your tongue around his thick finger, letting him imagine what else your drooling, wet mouth could do. He swallows when you release him with a pop, only to oh so innocently bat your lashes at him to say did he have anything bigger for you to lick?

Max has a hand tangled in your curls instantly, pushing your all too willing body down onto your knees as he swears, saying if he’d known you were going to be such a good girl for him he’d have fucked you months ago. You whine desperately, making him completely entranced as you press soft kisses to his clothed erection. He unbuckles himself for you, the small room silent except for the clinking of metal making both of you impatient. You gasp when his generously sized cock emerges from his Calvin Klein boxers, his pink tip resting right in front of you. He almost cums right there when you look up at him with those wide doe eyes, the very picture of innocence but your filthy words anything but. It-it’s so big, Maxie. Even larger than what I’d dreamed about.

And then you’re messily kissing up and down his engorged shaft, smearing your lipgloss all over as you pant and drool over his length. Oh my fucking god, Max groans, head slamming into the door behind him. That mouth of yours, baby- Jesus fucking Christ.

He’s rendereded speechless when you begin suckling on his hypersensitive tip, circling it with full concentration just like you’d done with his finger. You don’t break eye contact, pulling back slightly to pump his base with two hands and blow air over his angry, swollen cockhead. Tastes so good, Maxie. ‘M gonna worship your cock tonight, just like my world champion deserves. Your throat goes completely lax as you take his impressive length all the way to the base, gurgling and drooling messily as you hollow your cheeks to suck firmly.

Fuck! Jesus, schat, baby, I’m gonna - Max is panting heavily, cheeks adorably red and flushed as he tangles his large palms into your curls. Go-gonna fuck that insane mouth of yours now, okay?

You hum in agreement, sending vibrations running down his shaft. He doesn’t waste any time then, dragging your face forward and roughly thrusting himself into your wet, slack mouth. Loud, obscene sounds of the dirty blowjob you’re performing for him are filling the air, and there’s no doubt anyone listening in the hallway would be able to tell exactly what going on behind the door. But the both of you couldn’t care less, too far gone. And if your mindblowing deepthroat hadn’t been enough, you’re whimpering in between thrusts that he’s so big, you bet he could fuck your tits at the same time as your mouth-

He doesn’t even need to process that sexy mental image because you’re now using your free hands to cup your bouncing breasts and wrap them snugly around the base of his cock, his leaking tip still thrusting in and out of your mouth. Like this, see Maxie?

Max roars in approval at the filthy display, the warmth of your soft tits sending him over the edge. Gonna cum now, he pants breathlessly. Open your mouth for me, baby, you’ll swallow it all, right?

You follow his command immediately, desperately saying please, please Maxie, wanna taste you so bad, you can cum wherever you want-

He slaps his heavy cockhead against your chubby cheeks first, and then onto your pink tongue as you poke it out, collecting drops of precum from his angry red tip. He’s meanly chuckling as you go cross eyed from his cock whacking your face, squealing with excitement. Guess the only thing that shuts you up is my cock in your mouth.

You nod eagerly, panting with your lips wide open expectantly as you stare up at him, your pretty makeup completely destroyed from the messy blowjob. The sight of you so desperate for him is what tips him over, and with a silent moan he jerks himself off to flood your mouth with a generous, creamy load. So much that you struggle to swallow it, some of it leaking out the corners of your lips to drip onto your heaving tits. But you take most of it just like you promised him, licking your lips rather sluttily before opening your mouth to show him. See, Maxie? Drank it all for you.

He yanks you up off the floor, pressing your soft jiggling chest up against his hard pecs as he rewards you with a deep kiss. Did fucking amazing, sweetheart, he sighs into you. That was definitely the best head I’ve ever gotten. You flush from his compliment, sultry eyes turning shy now from his praise. But the Dutch Lion’s appetite isn’t satiated tonight. He pulls your dress back up, wiping away your smeared gloss and smudged mascara before redressing himself. But we aren’t finished just yet, schatje, he croons as he gently untangles your curls from your dangly earrings. You bite your lip, hanging onto his each word as he says After all, you’d won in Vegas too. He’ll have to show you how good the sex is, now.

Desire darkens your bright, dazed eyes at the thought of Max finally fucking you. You bury your face in his thick neck, wrapping your arms around him as you plead for him to please take you upstairs, you needed him so bad, you couldn’t take it anymore.

He chuckles at your cute begging, discreetly leading you down the hallway that’s thankfully empty while keeping you firmly pressed to his chest. As much as he’d wiped away the streaks of mascara, any of your friends would only have to take one look to know what you’d been upto. The ride up the discreet service elevator is another test of self restraint, the camera in the corner stopping the both of you from outright debauchery. But you can’t stop weakly grinding against Max’s muscular thigh that separates your plush legs, clinging onto him as he whispers dirty things in your ear with that Dutch voice you loved. Tell me what kind of naughty dreams you’ve been having about me, he demands. And of course, you oblige, turning his ears pink and voice huskier when he finds out just what you’d been secretly pining for.

He lifts you up, your legs straddling his waist easily when you finally reach your floor, an carried you down the hallway. After you’re clumsily swiping your room card with Max’s very distracting lips leaving kisses to your throat, you find yourself inside your dark hotel room at last. The Vegas city lights stream in from the floor to ceiling windows, illuminating Max’s handsome form as he looks down to drink in the pretty sight of you. Fucking finally, Max groans, ripping his shirt and pants off in one go and kicking his shoes to the side. He wraps an arm around your waist to pick you up again and gently toss you onto the king sized bed, making you giggle excitedly as you land with a bounce. And then he’s on top of you, eyes dark and a cocky smirk on his face as he presses his warm length against your soaked panties. See what you’ve done to me, schatje? I’m already hard again. Completely ruined me for anyone else with this perfect body. He finishes his sentence with a slow roll of his hips, making you moan breathily at the contact, with your panties so wet they’re practically stuck to you and you can feel all of him.

He unzips you out of your dress, leaving heated kisses all over your body as he admires the sight of your navy lingerie set, telling you he’d buy you ten more so you could wear them for him after every race when he fucked you. You keen at his attention, at the thought that Max wants you again and again, eyes teary as you start to try and grind your hips against him. You’ll have to be patient, schatje Max says in an amused tone, sounding much more in control than the moaning, dripping mess he’s turned you into. You teased me so much after all, it’s only fair that it’s my turn now, right? He kisses your ankles softly as he unties your strappy heels, letting them fall to the floor. And then, with a strong hand on each of your delicate ankles, he hungrily takes in the sight of your dripping pussy. Your tummy flutters almost nervously in anticipation of what’s coming.

Turns out Max, just like you, always held true to his promises. You’d had to be very patient as he had his turn of teasing you mercilessly, making you cum all over his thick fingers that stretched you out and skilled tongue that found your sensitive clit almost immediately. And when he’s finally ripping the condom packet open and slapping your core with his heavy cock, you’re practically crying.Your aching pussy finally gets what she needs when you’re stuffed impossibly full as he slides in to the hilt.

The sight of you completely ruined underneath him, tits bouncing with each powerful thrust he delivers, your nails burying into his strong arms to steady yourself, unlocks a carnal desire in Max. Whatever I want, right schatje? He hums, bending down so your sweaty foreheads touch, and you nod quickly through your deep pants. Even if I wanted to fuck you raw? You’ll let me cum inside your tight little pussy, hmm?

He knows he has you right where he wants as you squeeze down on him instinctively when you imagine him inside you with no protection. Ohmygod Maxie, yes, please, fuck your cum into me, please! The Dutchman’s outright filthy request has your head spinning with desire and you’re babbling half incoherently. Pulling out momentarily and making you whine, he yanks the condom off before sinking back into your creamy hole. You both moan in pure ecstasy at the euphoric feeling of skin to skin sex.

Max fucks you in multiple positions that night, passionately into the soft mattress, meanly up against the cold window, and roughly on the plush sofa chaise with your face buried in the cushions and your red asscheeks up in the air for him to slap. Next time I win you’ll let me fuck you here, too, okay baby? he demands as he fingers your winking back hole while still thrusting into your dripping cunny. You can only let out a high pitched whine, jiggling your hips back onto his cock in approval, too fucked out to respond with words at this point. And when he finally cums, his impressive stamina outlasting yours on his second orgasm, he makes sure to sink in deep and flood your heavenly walls with his thick white release. You give him an open mouthed lazy kiss as a silent thank you for the best fuck of your entire life, hoping he got the message.

You’re pretty certain he did, because the next morning you’re awoken by a heavy length pressed up against your ass. You’d both passed out in the (thankfully clean) spare second bed after running through the shower together for five minutes to clean up the sticky mess last night. The 4th championship celebration sex was definitely record breaking , Max murmurs into your ear playfully. But it’s not complete without the slow morning after sex. You’ll let me show you now, right schat?

_____________________________________________

A/N: WAR IS OVER THE CHILDREN ARE OUT, BIRDS SINGING CAUSE MAX IS RIGHTFULLY 4 X WDC 😭😭😭 the way all the haters were silenced. Everyone’s trying ride his dick now including skysports I love to see it, as they should

Also guys 10 followers away from 2k?!? Wtaf 😳 I’m so sorry for the delayed post, thank you for being so patient. Work has been really busy this month but going on Xmas break in a couple weeks so will have more time to post!!!! Keep sending me ur saucy asks yall I love reading them <3

[starkwlkr]

girl, so confusing | f1

an: might make this two or three parts, not sure yet but oh well <3 love y’all THIS IS AN AU WHERE ALL THE F1 DILFS ARE SINGLE

faceclaim gisele bündchen

part 2 part 3

liked by maxverstappen1, aussiegrit and others

yourusername 💋

aussiegrit long time no see 👀

yourusername don’t worry, I still have cherry lipgloss that’s waiting for you

aussiegrit 😉

jensonbutton well hello 😏

yourusername hey there stranger

jensonbutton stranger? you’re breaking my heart, baby

sebastianvettel miss you lots!

yourusername come over then

sebastianvettel don’t tempt me

ferraridepressionclub y/n fr has all the dilfs in her comments i wanna be like her when i grow up

paddockgirlies she’s so iconic

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INTERVIEW WITH Y/N L/N | VOGUE

In conversation with Y/n L/n about being a mother and a racing driver, and her what’s in store for her.

Known for her fierce driving and even fiercer spirit, has seamlessly transitioned into a life that’s as complex as it is rewarding. A name that echoes through the halls of motorsport history, her story is one of reinvention—a journey from high-speed thrills to quiet, profound moments of motherhood, and, possibly, a return to the racing world in an entirely new role.

The 2000s were Y/n’s golden years at Williams. Her raw talent shone even when the team’s fortunes dipped, and she quickly became a fan favorite. Known for her courage, sharp wit, and stunning moves on the track, she formed friendships with some of the sport's brightest stars—Mark Webber, Sebastian Vettel, and Jenson Button. Their bond, a cocktail of camaraderie and unspoken attraction, became as legendary as her driving.

But the glamorous world of F1, with its dazzling lights and high expectations, took a toll. In 2004, Williams made the decision to drop her from their roster—a move that would alter the course of her life forever. Y/n, at the time, found solace in the chaos. Late nights, parties, and the company of friends became her refuge.

"I wasn’t ready to let go of F1, but at that point, I wasn’t sure where I was headed." Y/n said as we chat in her London home. It’s a beautiful house with stained glass windows and the perfect amount of sunlight shining in. Her daughter is also present though she much prefers to continue with her reading as she cuddles up to her mother.

But in the unpredictable world of racing, the story of Y/n was far from over. A fresh start beckoned when McLaren offered her a seat, a move that many saw as her redemption arc. She embraced the opportunity, her focus sharper than ever. The partying ceased. The cigarettes were put out. It wasn’t just a return to the sport—it was a return to herself.

Her career, marked by precision and passion, came to an official close in 2014, but Y/n’s influence has never waned. Retirement, though, didn’t equate to slowing down. Today, Y/n is a mother—something that’s become a cornerstone of her identity.

“I’ve always been independent, but being a mom has redefined what it means to be strong," she says, her eyes softening. "It’s a different kind of challenge, but one I’m grateful for every single day.”

Her daughter, now nine, was born a year after her retirement. She had announced the birth on her social media with a simple caption: “welcome to the world, my beautiful girl”

“As a mom, I’ve learned the art of balancing," Y/n reflects. "There are days when I’m just a mom—no racing, no interviews, no drama. And then there are days when I’m reminded of who I was before all of this. It's about finding peace with both versions of myself.”

At this point, her daughter stops reading her book and places several kisses on her mother’s cheek. It was a beautiful moment between mom and daughter.

“The future is full of possibilities. I’m focused on what’s next, but I'm not in any rush. We’ll see what happens. Right now, I’m the happiest I’ve ever been.”

Motherhood may have softened some edges, but it has only sharpened her focus. If there’s one thing Y/n has taught us, it’s that the greatest drivers are those who can keep pushing, even when they’re driving toward the unknown.

INTERVIEW WITH Y/N | THE PADDOCK SESSIONS PODCAST

“Welcome everyone to the paddock sessions podcast. I’m your host Dan and todays guest is a very special one. She is my favorite driver and I’m going to try not to freak out right now. Y/n L/n welcome to the paddock sessions!” Dan the host said into his microphone.

Y/n smiled and thanked Dan for the introduction. “Favorite driver? Dan, I’m flattered. I’ll pay you later.” She joked.

“You’re actually the reason my girlfriend watches formula 1. She watched your past races and was devastated when I told her you retired in 2014. I think she was thinking of breaking up with me because I told her,” Dan admitted. Y/n chuckled at his words. “But can we see a potential comeback for you? I know I’m not the only one that would love to see that!”

“Well I can’t really stay away from formula 1. I try to watch the races with my daughter, but she’s not interested in racing at all so I always end up watching them alone.” Y/n explained as she adjusted the microphone.

“Daughter of a racing driver isn’t interested in racing? That’s wild. But at least she knows that her mom is a legend in the sport, yeah?” Dan asked.

“She’s reminded every time we go out and I’m stopped because someone wants an autograph or a picture,” Y/n laughs. “But she knows the basics, she knows what all the number means, she’s a smart girl.”

“Amazing. Um, on the topic of your daughter, and you can stop me if you want, you’ve always been an open book in many ways, yet when it comes to your daughter’s father, you’ve kept things private. How hard has it been to keep things like that private? I imagine it must be frustrating.”

Y/n nodded and cleared her throat. “I’ve always believed in protecting my daughter’s privacy, and for me, that extends to the people closest to us. I’ll say this: my daughter is incredibly lucky to have the most amazing father. He’s the kind of dad who would do anything to keep her safe and happy. I know she’s growing up in a secure and loving environment because of him. He’s protective, but in the best way possible.”

“Have you seen the tweets regarding it?” Dan asked curiously.

“Oh yeah, it’s all over my feed. I’ve actually read some pretty crazy shit about the father of my daughter.” Y/n said.

“Any favorites?”

“There’s a thread that was posted recently on why Lewis is the father of my daughter. I love Lewis, but I can confirm he is not. He’s actually the godfather.”

“Well, you heard it hear first folks!”

[scorpiosbite]

when actress!reader and drew met for the first time

𝜗𝜚 ࣪˖ ִ𐙚 ────୨ৎ──── it's your first time in LA, so when your new friend madelyn cline invites you to a club in downtown LA with the rest of her obx castmates, who are you to decline.

𝜗𝜚 pairing: actress!reader x drew starkey

author’s note: this takes place in mid-2024 after the filming of obx 4 wrapped.

you stared at your reflection in the luxurious bathroom mirror, your makeup was light and your hair was straightened and open. yet you felt a bit like that saying 'a pig in makeup.' dressed in a sheer, white, long-sleeve top, a black lace bra underneath, clearly showing through, and black shorts paired with itno biker boots. your fingers, filled with chrome heart rings, sliver earrings of various jewellery brands covering your ears, yet your neck is still bare.

you sigh heavily, being racked with anxiety like this before going out was common for you. there was a reason you barely left your london home except for work. and now, here in LA for the first time and without mimi, your best friend who is the polar opposite of you and the only person who is capable of making you feel calm in these situations, you feel as though you are going to make a fool out of yourself. it's not like you don't want to meet madelyn and the rest of the obx cast, you really do, and you want to make a good impression which is why your anxiety feels worse than normal. the world sees you as this confident enigma, but only you experience this feeling of dread weighing down on your chest that tells you that you aren’t capable of more difficult roles, that you don’t deserve the fame and love given to you, that you aren’t hardworking or beautiful enough, that if people saw the real you, they would hate what they see. this feeling, this voice, is the reason you’re so recluse.

but before you can spiral any further your phone rings. madelyn's name lights up the screen. you pick up, clearing your throat, trying to settle the shake in your voice to hide your nervousness. "hi, maddie" you can hear the smile on her face through her response. "hi, y/n!! are you ready? i'm on the way to your hotel, i'll be there in like 10 minutes." the excitement in her voice eases your anxiety. maddie had dmed you on instagram a few months ago after seeing an interview of yours where you named outer banks as the show you watch during your free time while filming and since that moment the two of you became fast friends. so when you told her you were going to be in LA for the first time for work, she enthusiastically invited you to come hang out with her and her castmates. "yea, i'm ready, i'll come down to the lobby." you end the call and then rush around the room grabbing your bag and filling it with everything you may need, before giving your face and outfit a final check in the mirror before making your way to the lobby.

madelyn texted you that her car was parked outside the entrance when you reached the lobby and the hotel staff let you know that there was no paparazzi outside so you walked outside where madelyn’s driver had the backseat door open for you, you thanked him and hopped into the car and he walked back to the drivers seat and and started driving. madelyn’s smiling face greeted you. “hi, wow you look fucking stunning. it’s so good to finally meet you!” you gave her a bright smile in return. “thank you, you look unreal, and yes it’s so good to finally meet you too!” you gave her a tight hug. “fuck, y/n what perfume do you use, you smell amazing.” “aw, thank you! it’s the kayali vanilla one, babes.” madelyn laughed “what?” you gave her a confused laugh “ the ‘babes’ you’re so british!” you laughed and nodded “i forget that there’s terms we use that aren’t common here.”

madelyn pulled out her phone and started checking something, so you took the time to look out the window and take in LA during the night. “ok so chase is there, so is laci, madison, jd, austin and drew.” you felt your breath hitch at the mention of his name. “drew’s there?” madelyn gave you a knowing smirk. “yea, he’s coming.” you raised a brow. “what was that smirk for?” she shrugged and gave you a downward smile “you’ll see.” before you could question her further, the car came to a stop in front of the club. “we’re here, miss cline.” madelyn’s driver spoke up from his seat and then stepped out of the car coming around and opening the door for the both of you, you hopped out first and thanked him and waited while madelyn got out. she thanked him and then he drove off.

madelyn interlocked your hands together “excited?” you laughed at her excitement. “yea, let’s get a shot in me.” the atmosphere of the club was electric, the people around you were dancing and having the time of their lives. seeing everyone around you, you felt the anxiousness start to melt from your body. madelyn was looking around, trying to find her friends her hand still holding yours. “oh! i see them! let’s go!” she dragged you behind her, coming to a stop at the end of the table. everyone greeted you with bright smiles “guys! this is y/n. but you all already know that” she said in a singsong voice. “we’re all big fans of you.” she added as she turned to you. you smiled shyly with everyone’s attention on you. “hi.” you gave a little wave. your eyes immediately locked with drew’s, even sitting down he towered over everyone. you felt your breathe hitch and your limbs numb. you were suddenly pulled into hugs one by one by everyone else, you muttered greetings but it felt like an out of body experience as your eyes refused to stray from drew’s.

drew felt like he couldn’t breathe, he had spent so many months dreaming of this moment when he would finally see you in person. and all he could think was that the screen could never do justice to you. your energy, your beauty in real life was unmeasurable. “hi, i’m drew.” you smiled at him, a saccharine smile that made his heart stutter. “i know.” you took a seat next to him at the table while austin and jd went to get shots for the table “so y/n, what do you think of LA?” madison asked “it’s quite different to london.” you laughed. you were having trouble focusing as drew’s thigh kept bumping into yours. you thought about how badly you wanted him to use his size and strength against you. if he would throw you and bend you to his will, you clenched your thighs together at the thought.

jd and austin returned with the shots and everyone’s energy immediately skyrocketed. you all grabbed a shot. “let’s have a good fucking night! whoo!!” chase yelled and you all clinked your glasses and downed your drinks. everyone winced but you weren’t phased “what!! how did you not feel that!” austin yelled over the music that had somehow gotten louder. “that was straight tequila!” you shrugged with a smug smile on your face “i’m british, darling, you americans can’t keep up!” you laughed. drew beside you, had a look on his face that was somehow both impressed and turned on. “oh my god! i fucking love this song.” you exclaimed beginning to feel the alcohol travel through your system, taking with it the inhibitions that often consumed you. “dance with me?” madelyn asked and you nodded your head. she grabbed your hand but before she could drag you behind her you turned your head and mouthed to drew “watch me.”

drew’s throat felt constricted, his pants were becoming impossibly tight. you were grinding on madelyn and he couldn’t take his eyes off of you. you’re mesmerising and he had to have you. it felt as though time had slowed down and the two of you were the only people in the crowded club. “come on man, let’s go dance.” jd clapped drew on the shoulder. he got up and began making his way to the centre of the dance floor, his eyes still locked on you.

your eyes were closed and you were completely lost in the music when you felt madelyn whisper in your ear from behind. “drew’s walking over, don’t tell him i told you this, but he’s into you.” your eyes snapped open but before you could question her, drew was standing in front of you, towering over everyone in the club. everyone else present faded away as you took in his presence. he leaned down to whisper in your ear. “wanna dance on me like that?” you smirked, tilting your head up, slightly. “you wish.” he smirked down at you. the alcohol you had consumed throughout the night made you bold and carefree and you used it’s effects on you to the fullest. you wrapped your arms around his neck and he brought his hands to your waist, covering the small of your back.

drew’s head felt dizzy, you smelt so good he wanted to drag his tongue across every inch of the surface of your body. he leaned down to your neck inhaling the scent of your perfume and pheromones. “fuck, you smell amazing.” you smirked “yeah? want a taste?” drew threw his head back his adam’s apple bobbing as he swallowed. “fuck, y/n, don’t say shit like that.” you leaned up on your tippy toes so that you could whisper in his ear. “why not?” you came back down so that you could gaze back up at him, your eyes big and wide, innocent, like you weren’t thinking all the disgusting things you wanted him to do to you. “you don’t wanna fuck me, drew?”

you giggled as you unlocked the door to your hotel room, drew, hot on your heels. as soon as the door was open drew picked you up and you giggled drunkenly, wrapping your legs around his waist and your arms around his neck. drew’s hands came to grip on your thighs squeezing at the flesh as he devoured your lips with his, teeth and tongue clashing. you moaned into the kiss, your hands scratching at his buzzed head. drew reached out behind you and pushed the door shut. the sound of it echoing through the room but the both of you couldn’t care less. your lace panties were soaked all the way through and you could feel his cock straining through his pants, drew broke the kiss. “you feel what you do to me, baby?” you hummed in agreement already feeling fucked out even though he hadn’t even properly touched you yet “been hard from the moment i saw you walk through the door.”

“need you so bad, drew” you whined, not even caring if you sounded desperate, he was more desperate than you anyway. “yeah? need me that bad, baby? need me in that pretty little pussy?” you nodded, biting your lip “wanna be full of you.” drew groaned “fuck, you trying make cum in my pants y/n?” you giggled. drew began to make his way to the bed, with you still in his arms. he dropped you onto the plush bed and you bounced on the mattress. “are you sober enough to do this? cause i don’t want you to regret this in the morning.” you shook you head frantically. “no, i want you, i’m just tipsy, i told you i have a high tolerance.” he laughed, a low rumble that caused your core to flutter. “that you did, baby.” you spread your legs open to make room for him and he began to unzip your boots and pull off your socks before kicking off his own shoes.

drew kneeled on the edge of the bed, leaning down to attach himself to your neck, biting, licking, and sucking at the skin. your moans were breathy, almost sigh like at the feeling of his lips. his hands brushed at your waist, tugging at the hem of your sheer top. “let me see you.” he pulled it off, messing up your hair as it went over your head. he then moved to your shorts tugging them down your legs, leaving you in your matching black, lace bra and black, lace thong. “fuck, you’re unreal, i can’t believe you’re here right now.” you giggled at his words. “you’re sweet.” he chuckled and he leaned back down to kiss you. “yeah? i’m sweet, baby?” “mhmm.” you nodded as he connected your lips together again. you kissed him back with ferocity. tugging his bottom lip with your teeth, your hands stroked his covered chest, and you broke the kiss, your lips still so close that you could feel his breath on your face. “take off your clothes.”

drew groaned and his face dropped into your neck, before he stood up off the bed and pulled his shirt over his head, moving to his pants unbuttoning them and then pushing them down his legs, leaving him in just his boxers. your mouth hung open when you saw the size of his bulge through his boxers and the wet patch forming on the material. you sat up on the bed and tugged him closer to you by the waistband of his boxers, licking his clothed bulge. “poor baby, so hard, do you need me to help you?” drew whimpered, nodding his head. “need you so bad, pretty girl.” you chuckled, “want me so bad don’t you, drew?” drew’s hips bucked in response a look of pure desperation on his pretty face, oh, you were gonna ruin him. leave him a mess so that the only person he would ever want was you.

you pushed down his boxers freeing his length. his massive cock snapped up, slapping his stomach, the red tip leaking pre cum. your mouth watered at the sight of him, he’s gorgeous. “you’re so pretty and big, drew.” drew whimpered “fuck, you gonna suck me off, gorgeous?” you hummed, your hand coming up to the base of his cock, stroking languidly. “you’d like that, wouldn’t you?” drew groaned, his hand curling into a fist by his side, like he was trying desperately not to force your mouth onto him. he opened his mouth to speak, but before he could say anything, you parted your lips and began leaving open mouth kisses on his tip. alternating between sucking and kissing, drew groaned from above you, his hand finally coming up to tangle in your hair, never pushing or pulling just resting. such a gentleman you thought, but you wanted him to snap, to use you.

you breathed through your nose and then took his entire length into your mouth, your nose pushing into the trimmed patch of hair at the base of his cock. drew let out a loud groan that reverberated through the room. “fuck! y/n!” you hummed and then swallowed around his length, your tongue still rubbing the underside of his cock, before you pulled off of him to catch your breath. but before you could resume your ministrations, drew placed a hand under your chin, tilting your head up. you looked up at him with a fucked out expression and he look even more fucked out than you. “i’m gonna need to prep you, so get on your back for me, baby.” you giggled excitedly, drew reached behind you and unclipped your bra with ease and practised skill before you laid down onto the soft mattress.

your hair splayed around you like a halo, your cheeks flushed with a daze in your eyes as you gazed up at drew. he leaned over you on the bed, one hand placed by your head and the other stroking your thigh. “i’m gonna take you out after this.” you raised a brow, “oh yeah? what makes you think i’m gonna say yes?” drew smirked at you, he did love a challenge. “alright, if i make you cum three times, you have to go out with me. deal?” you hummed, mulling over the proposition. “you’re on, starkey.” drew leaned down and began kissing and biting your neck, then your shoulders then finally your tits, sucking at your nipple and squeezing the other one with his large palm. “been thinking about feeling these since the moment i saw them on my tv.” he mumbled against the flesh. you could only respond in moans. “fuck, drew!”

drew continued his way down till he was face to face with your lace covered soaked core, he nuzzled his face into your clothed pussy, inhaling deeply. “fuck, you smell amazing.” you whined impatiently, bucking your hips. drew chuckled and hooked his fingers into the band of your thong, dragging it down slowly, the material clung to your centre a sticky film connecting your cunt and the fabric as he pulled it down and off your legs, dropping the fabric onto his pile of clothes on the floor. “god, you’re so wet, baby.” drew said breathlessly. “who’s got you so wet, huh? tell me.” your cheeks flushed in embarrassment “you, drew, i’m so wet, just for you.” drew hummed appreciatively “such a pretty pussy, I knew your cunt would be gorgeous, just like the rest of you.”

before you could say anything in response, drew dove into your cunt, eating you like a man starved. his tongue flicked at your clit, as he spread your lips open with his fingers baring you for him to consume. you gasped and whined, your moans coming out broken. then he sucked your clit into his mouth and his long finger prodded at your entrance. your hips bucked and your thighs squeezed at his head. but drew just held your legs open with one hand as he doubled down on his efforts, he slipped in another finger, thrusting with fervour and you thought you were seeing stars, you had never had a man eat you out like this before. it was like drew was born to live between your legs, like he was made just for you. as he sped up his movements you felt the tightening band in your stomach about to snap. “fuck! drew! shit! i’m gonna cum!” your orgasm tore through you with a rage, as you came with a shout of his name. your back arched off the bed and your legs shook around drew’s head, thighs squeezing him. your puffy clit throbbed and your slick walls pulsating around his fingers.

drew detached himself from your abused cunt, slotting himself between your spread legs, your body was still trembling. “that’s one, baby” you could only muster a whine in response as drew grabbed the base of his cock stroking a few quick times, before slapping the head of his cock against your swollen cunt. “fuck, wait, i don’t have a condom.” you shook your head. “don’t care ‘m on birth control, wanna feel you, drew.” you said, your voice full of your need for him. drew groaned his head bowing forward, as if his was in prayer. his voice conveying his all consuming desire for you. “you’re gonna be the death of me.”

drew smeared his pre cum all over your cunt, like he was trying to mark you as his. then he pushed the tip in, your mouth hung open as a gasp escaped your plush, swollen lips. it felt as though he was spitting you open. drew stopped as your brows furrowed and your perfect face scrunched up, mouth still open. he was right, you look exactly as how you did in your sex scene. but seeing you now, in real life, in front of him, as the cause of your pleasure, the feeling was indescribable. he knew in that moment that he lived for you. to be the source of all your joy. you shook your head “no, don’t stop, i want it to hurt, i want to be able to feel you tomorrow.” he couldn’t speak, drew swore that no woman could every make him feel like you did. he pushed all the way in bottoming out, he didn’t give you any time to adjust to his size, pounding into your tight cunt with ardour. your moans and whines came out strangled, your face flushing.

drew’s hand trailed your thigh, grabbing the plump flesh, so tight that you knew that he would leave hand prints, his cock slammed into your walls and he looks so pretty above you, bottom lip bit under his pearly teeth, in effort to keep his groans at bay. sweat gathering at his forehead, that you wanted to lick off, pretty brows furrowed together. you were gripping him like a vice and he knew that he wasn’t going to last long. he brought his thumb to your throbbing clit. rubbing quick circles on the bundle of nerves, you threw you head back exposing your neck as you felt your second orgasm of the night creep onto you. “shit, baby, prettiest girl in the world, fucked out on my cock. you don’t know how long i’ve been dreaming of this.” your tits bounced with each slap of his hips against yours, his heavy balls banging against your ass, the sting adding to your pleasure.

“holy fuck, drew!” your body convulses from your second climax, tight walls clenching hard around drew’s thick cock, he pulled out quickly, flipping you onto your knees as your face buried into the mattress. you panted heavily as he pushed back into you from behind. large palms gripping onto your hips. he picked up his pace right where he left it giving you no time to gather yourself. strong hips pounding against your perfect ass, one hand left your hips that he trailed down your back to your head gripping your hair, turning your head to the side so you could watch him over your shoulder. but you struggled to keep your eyes open.

drew was struggling not to cum, he was nothing if not a man of his word, so no matter how hard your velvet walls clenched around him, no matter how perfect the sight before him was, he had to see you again. so he wasn’t going to lose his chance by fucking cumming too quickly like a teenage boy. “best fucking pussy i’ve ever had.” he praised and you squealed in response, you couldn’t form coherent thoughts anymore, let alone words. the only thing you could think of was drew, and how he was splitting you apart on his big cock. the angle of his thrusts hitting that sweet spot inside of you. “fuck! ‘m gonna cum, baby!” you cried out and drew whimpered in relief, he was teetering on the edge and the thought of having to hold on for any longer made him feel like he was going to collapse. “yeah? gonna give me number three, baby?” you pushed your ass back into him matching his thrusts as you whined loudly. drew was hypnotised as your red cheeks bounced on his pelvis, his hand leaving its place on your hip to smack down on the plump flesh, once, twice, then three times, watching it jiggle. “fuck, please rub my clit!” drew obeyed immediately bending at hip and reaching around you so that his long fingers could rub at your pulsing clit with vehemence.

“i’m cumming!” your body shook and your eyes squeezed shut as tears rolled down your eyes, you felt this wetness exploding out of you but you couldn’t focus on it, drew groaned from behind you his hips stuttering as he came with a loud moan of your name his cum pushing into your cervix. he pulled out of you and you felt the mixture of your fluids seeping out of your pussy. drew took two of his fingers and gathered the mixture and pushed it back into your sensitive cunt, you whined in response, collapsing onto your back it’s only then did you see the mess you had caused on the expensive sheets of the hotel bed. “you squirted. that’s so fucking hot.” you felt boneless, completely spent. “ever done that before?” you shook your head no “mm mm.” drew’s face was completely fucked out and you were sure you didn’t look much different. “hold on, baby, i’m gonna clean you up, ok?” you simply nodded, too tired to speak. drew walked to the bathroom and came back with a wet towel, which he used to wipe between your legs and over your sensitive cunt, before chucking the cloth somewhere on the floor, then collapsing next to you on the bed.

drew gathered you into his arms tugging you close to him, his arm under your head and the other around your waist and you snuggled your face into the crevice of his neck and shoulder. your hand coming up to rest on his chest and your legs tangling with his. you have never felt so content in your life. drew spoke in a hushed tone. “so, that was three, can i take you out now?” you giggled in response “yeah, can i tell you a secret?” drew was tracing patterns on your back. “what’s that, baby?” you smiled against his skin “i was gonna say yes anyway, but i wanted to make you work for it.” drew chuckled. “you cheeky minx.” “can i tell you a secret?” you nodded “i would’ve done anything you told me to.”

TAGLIST: @sunnybunnyy2 @percysley @wearemadeofstardust0 @idgasb @pinkpantheris @emmaaas-posts @grace-sully @chloeisbunny

god that took me so fucking long to write but i hope it’s not disappointing. thank you for all the love on the previous parts my lovelies!!

[lazysoulwriter]

in their own world – pedro pascal .✦

requested! thank you. content: fluff, actress!wife!reader, married couple energy, public affection, fandom reactions

---

You were seated side by side, as always — like it was simply a rule of nature. Pedro and you, then your two co-stars from the new movie you’d just wrapped.

The interviewer was halfway through a question for someone else — something about stunt work and improvisation on set — when Pedro, absentmindedly at first, reached for your hand.

You didn’t even glance down. Just tilted your body ever so slightly, so he had better access, and let your fingers intertwine with his.

He brought the back of your hand to his mouth without a word. One kiss. Then another. Then another.

You smiled, still facing the interviewer but clearly not listening. Your free hand came up to ruffle gently through the curls at his nape. His eyes fluttered closed for a second, like the feeling of your fingers on his scalp was better than whatever award you’d just been nominated for.

The others kept talking. Cameras kept rolling. But the two of you? You were gone.

In a soft little bubble of shared warmth and quiet adoration, neither of you paying any mind to the fact that you were still in the middle of a press junket.

And when Pedro finally opened his eyes again, he looked at you. Not the interviewer. Not the audience. Just you.

Like the world was made of two people.

You whispered something, barely audible, and he bit back a grin. The cameras caught it — your quiet laugh, the twitch of his lip, the little squeeze of your joined hands. Like he couldn’t help it. Like you were the only thought in his mind.

You stayed like that for the rest of the interview — fingers tangled, smiles shared, occasionally leaning into each other’s shoulders with subtle giggles and little murmured jokes that no one else could hear.

The internet? Lost their collective mind.

“not pedro kissing her hand for 10 whole seconds like they’re in a period drama—” “they’re literally in their own movie. i don’t even care about the film anymore, i just wanna see THEM.” “did you see the way he looked at her after that last kiss???? I’m not okay.” “no bc they DEF have telepathic powers. one look and boom they’re both laughing like one of them made a whole joke in their minds.” “marriage goals?? nah. that’s like soul connection goals.”

The clips went viral within minutes. Gifs of Pedro kissing your hand, you smiling like he’d just whispered poetry against your skin. Edits soundtracked by love songs. People joking that your marriage should be studied in labs.

But back in your hotel room, later that night, Pedro just kissed your hand again — slower this time — and murmured, “Didn’t even realize I was doing it… I just needed to touch you.”

You kissed his curls in return. “Always can.”

---

✦ please do not copy, repost, or translate this work. © lazysoulwriter // i write with a lot of love and care, so please respect that.

---

taglist: @sarahhxx03 @lloydmustache @lolareadsimagines @greenwitchfromthewoods @silksepia @pascalswiftie @itstokyo-cos @mani-pedro @llsister @authorbriannarae13 @introvrtedjellyfish @aj0elap0l0gist @spencercmlover @cixrosie @cherrqbaby @cup-half-full-of-anxiety @joelmillerpascal @freakbobcult @sunlightpleasure@barnes70stark @mooniscrying @ohnaurshayla @croissantbakerylws @nellispunk @kasienka @taylorswiftsrep-blog @emerencedaily @byzyz @noovaarq @kristend512 @alltounwell @libbyaller @beaagiannelli @broad-shouldrs @oceanmcu @kysosa @melloispunk @jollycupcakeblizzard @angvlicsoulll @needz1nk @daddypascal17 @agustdpeach @mrsbilicablog @k4t13ispunk @hotdadlvr95 @lnnysnts @pedropascalfan221 @queenofklonnie22 @christinamadsen @ilovecheriies @stvr-bloom

[amirasainz]

Hello. Can I please request some TP reader where both Lando and Oscar messed up. So reader becomes angry and they see a side they have never seen before. Could you also include sone grid dad Toto wolff? Like how Seb is Charles grid dad or Charles ollies. Thank you

Bruised Ego

The sun blazed down on the track, the roar of engines and the frantic chatter of pit walls echoing into the air as the race unfolded in high-speed chaos. In the McLaren garage, the tension was palpable. Monitors flickered with data, pit crews scrambled like clockwork, and standing at the very center of it all—heels planted firmly, arms crossed, jaw set—was Yn.

At just 22, she commanded more authority than people twice her age. The team principal of McLaren was a force to be reckoned with, admired by the paddock and adored by the drivers. Every engineer, mechanic, and executive deferred to her judgment. Even the most seasoned drivers quieted when she entered the room. And yes—though they would never admit it aloud—all the drivers were completely in love with her.

But right now? Love was the last thing on anyone's mind.

A crash. Between both McLaren cars. Oscar and Lando.

The screen replayed the collision in excruciating slow motion. Oscar had tried a risky overtake. Lando had defended too aggressively. The two McLarens tangled like dancers who missed a beat and spun into the wall, throwing away vital points in the Constructors’ Championship.

Yn’s expression didn’t change. Not even when the pit wall erupted in curses, groans, and stunned silence.

The garage grew colder somehow—not in temperature, but in spirit. Her gaze didn’t flicker from the screen. Her hands were clasped behind her back, chin slightly raised. She wasn’t yelling. She didn’t need to. Her fury was quiet, frozen, and absolute.

And everyone knew—Oscar and Lando were screwed.

When the race ended and the drivers were climbing out of their cars, the broadcast cameras picked up the moment. Yn stepped onto the track in her sleek black slacks and sky-high stilettos. The sun glinted off the silver pin on her McLaren blazer. She walked directly toward them.

"Office. Now," she said, pointing a perfectly manicured hand toward the garage. Her voice cut through the noise, through the interviews and celebration and commiseration.

Lando opened his mouth. "Yn—"

"No."

That was it. No further explanation. No room for argument.

Oscar looked like he wanted the ground to swallow him. Lando looked like a kicked puppy. Both followed her in silence, heads low, like scolded schoolboys being marched to detention.

The garage was dead silent as they passed.

They entered the office. She didn’t speak. Just pointed to the chairs across from her desk.

“Sit.”

They obeyed without a word.

Lando tried again, "Look, we didn’t mean—"

"Did I say you could speak?"

Silence.

She didn’t even sit down. She walked out, heels clicking loudly on the concrete floor. The door slammed shut behind her.

Lando stared at Oscar. "We’re dead. We’re actually dead."

Oscar whispered, "Do you think she’s getting Zak?"

"No," Lando gulped. "Zak would be merciful."

Five minutes passed. It felt like fifty. And then the door opened again.

Yn returned. And she wasn’t alone.

Toto.

The Mercedes team principal. Towering, calm, and intimidating in his own right. He gave them both a short, tight smile as he entered and leaned on the edge of her desk like he had all the time in the world.

Lando’s mouth went dry. "Why is he here?"

"To make sure I don’t smack you both on the head," Yn said coolly as she took her seat. Her expression was unreadable.

Toto nodded solemnly. “I volunteered.”

Neither Oscar nor Lando dared to breathe too loud.

Yn took her time, leaning back in her chair. “Let’s get this straight,” she began, voice dangerously soft. “That was not a racing incident. That was two idiots forgetting they’re not the only people on the track.”

Oscar shifted. Lando looked at the floor.

“You compromised both cars. You cost us points. You embarrassed the team. Do you know how hard your engineers work? How many sleepless nights they spend giving you a car that can fight?”

They nodded.

“Did you act like it mattered?”

They shook their heads.

“Of course you didn’t,” she said icily. “You both behaved like rookies. You want to race each other? Fine. Do it in sim. Not when we have a shot at a double points finish.”

She stood and started pacing. “If I hear one more word about ‘hard racing’ or ‘it was just bad luck,’ I will personally put you both on media silence for the next three races. Try me.”

Toto coughed into his hand to hide a chuckle. “She’s not bluffing.”

Yn turned. “Thank you, Toto. That will be all.”

Toto didn’t move. “I’m staying. This is entertainment.”

She narrowed her eyes. "Suit yourself."

Oscar finally tried to speak. "We’re sorry. It really wasn’t our intention—"

"Do you think I care about intentions?" she snapped.

Oscar shut his mouth.

“For twenty minutes,” she continued, “I’m going to remind you exactly what it means to wear that orange suit.”

And she did.

For twenty straight minutes, she tore them down and built them back up. Not once did she raise her voice. But the intensity, the sheer focus in her words, made it worse than any shouting.

Toto just nodded along, every so often adding, “Mmhmm,” or “She has a point.”

When she finally finished, she leaned back again, eyes hard.

“Get out.”

They scrambled up.

“Oh, and one more thing,” she added, voice deceptively light. “If either of you ever speaks rudely to your race engineer again—especially when they’re trying to help you—you’ll find yourself cleaning the garage with a toothbrush.”

The door didn’t even click shut before the McLaren crew outside burst into suppressed giggles.

Back inside the office, Yn collapsed into her chair, letting out a long breath. For the first time all day, the weight lifted from her shoulders.

Toto, still perched on her desk, smiled softly. “You did good.”

She raised a brow. “I wasn’t sure I wouldn’t actually hit them.”

He chuckled and reached out, brushing a strand of hair behind her ear. “That’s why I came. For protection.”

She smirked.

“Come have dinner,” Toto offered. “Susie made that tart you love.”

“Tempting.”

“You need a break. You’ve been carrying this team with sheer force of will.”

She sighed again, letting her head fall back against the chair. “Only if Susie promises not to mother me the whole night.”

“She already bought you a new coat. Just accept it.”

Yn laughed.

In the driver’s lounge, Lando and Oscar weren’t faring so well.

Carlos strolled in, smirking. “How’s your ego?”

Oscar groaned. “Gone.”

Pierre leaned around the corner. “Did she throw a stapler? I always imagined she’d throw something.”

“No,” Lando muttered. “She didn’t have to. Her eyes did it.”

Charles raised a brow. “Toto was there too?”

Lando nodded. “He enjoyed it.”

Max entered, towel around his neck, holding a Red Bull. “I told you not to fight each other. But do you listen to me?”

“Max, please,” Oscar begged. “Not today.”

“I mean, I’ve had some bad team talks. But that?” Franco said, entering with a grin. “That was historic.”

“She didn’t even let us talk,” Lando said miserably.

“Good,” Alex muttered. “You don’t deserve to talk.”

“Can’t believe you made her that mad,” George added. “She’s always so nice.”

“Not today,” Oscar whispered.

“Hey,” Yuki added brightly. “At least she didn’t make you cry. Yet.”

Lando looked at him. “Yet?”

Yuki smiled serenely.

Later that night, Yn sat at a small candlelit table at Toto and Susie’s place. The warmth of the meal, the soft background music, and Susie’s laughter were a balm after the chaos of the race day.

“You’re becoming more and more like me,” Toto said, raising his wine glass.

“God help me,” she murmured.

“Don’t worry,” Susie teased. “We’ll keep you from becoming too scary.”

Yn chuckled, letting herself relax, finally, as the stars began to rise over the horizon.

She’d handled it. Like always. And tomorrow, she’d do it all over again.

Soo, thought this was kind of fitting for the race today (even though Lando had a little drivers mistake there). Enjoy the story. My requests are open.

[watchmegetobsessed]

UNDONE II.

A/N: sooo 👀 i feel like we all wanted more of them, so here it is! and i think there could be maybe a part 3 as well, let me know if you agree!

WORD COUNT: 5.8k

WARNING: sexual content

SUMMARY: What happened between Harry and Y/N on that one night in his office can't be undone and it is now bringing them to a whole new territory.

MASTERLIST | SUPPORT ME! | PART I.

Presenting was never Y/N’s thing. All the attention aimed at her, watching all of her moves and listening to what she is saying, it puts such a pressure on her that always gets her palms sweating and her speech stuttering. But today, as she presents her latest report at the bi-weekly meeting, she feels extra anxious.

And that’s because of Harry.

He has always been part of this meeting, he is sitting in the same spot as usual with the same gruff expression on his face while Y/N is talking through the numbers, but today his presence is entirely different to her.

Because just three days ago he watched her come as she grinded on him in his office. 

The memories still live vividly in her mind and that’s probably because she hasn’t stopped replaying them: sitting at her desk, making her third coffee of the day, on her route home, cooking in her tiny kitchen or lying in bed late at night, it’s all she thinks about. 

It’s a shame nothing more has happened though. 

The past few days have been quite hectic, mostly for Harry. An unexpected issue has been keeping him at work late, not leaving him any time to focus on Y/N and his promise to her. All they had was a couple longing gazes, a handful of hidden touches when passing by each other and murmured questions asking if they could postpone their meeting another day. 

Y/N understands it, he is busy, a whole department relies on him and great responsibility. That doesn’t take her disappointment away every time he apologizes when he asks to reschedule. 

Now that they are locked in a room with other people when the tension between them is palpable and Y/N is trying her best to control the ache for him in her chest and lower as well.

Once her presentation is over, a few questions are thrown her way, then she returns to her seat while feeling his burning gaze on her all the way. When she dares to look up from her notes he is still looking at her, but there’s a bit of softness in them now. Maybe even a tiny smile is hiding in the corner of his mouth, but maybe she is just imagining it.

People start flowing out of the room when the meeting ends, while Y/N and Harry are lazily gathering their stuff in hopes of having just a couple of moments alone, but that’s entirely crushed when the HR manager barges in and her eyes settle on Harry.

“Harry, can I have a word with you?”

Swallowing his disappointment, he shoots a short look at Y/N who just nods and leaves and it takes everything in him not to go after her. 

The past few days have been pure torture for him as well, having her so close yet he can’t even touch her. He’s been doing everything in his power to bend his schedule so he could at least put work down early enough that she is not asleep by the time he heads home, but he did not succeed. 

“Sorry to steal you away, but I wanted to chat with you about the new team lead’s onboarding,” Rita, the HR manager explains as they head to his office. He gives her a puzzled look. “You know, Rowan, the analyst lead you interviewed.”

“Oh… but that was so long ago, I thought he didn’t accept the offer.”

“He did, but he had a 2 month long notice period. He starts tomorrow.”

“Tomorrow?” his eyes widen. He completely forgot about it, though now he has a faded memory of Rita asking him about when he should start. To which he apparently said this week. “Uh, okay, tomorrow it is then.”

“He is coming at ten, I’ll do the paperwork with him and then bring him down here probably before lunch. He has the ‘meet the team’ event at two. Sam, Brian, Tate and Y/N already accepted, you haven’t, but it’s in your calendar.”

“Wait, who? Meet the team with…”

“Sam, Brian, Tate and Y/N. The analysts,” Rita repeats just as they step into his office. “Since Rowan will be their team lead.”

That’s right. Now Harry remembers. Rowan James is going to fulfill the Analyst team lead position that Harry has been substituting since what feels like forever, because they couldn’t find the right person. The vacancy has also been the only reason why Harry has been Y/N’s immediate boss since she’s joined the company.

But that comes to an end with Rowan’s arrival. 

***

It’s once again past nine when Harry finally shuts his computer off. His eyes hurt from staring at the screen all day and he already has a mile long to-do list for tomorrow. This week sucks, he thinks to himself as he stands from his desk, expecting complete darkness outside his office, but he is surprised to see a sliver of light at one of the desks.

It’s Y/N.

She is sitting at her desk, phone in hand as she scrolls with a tired look on her illuminated face. Harry’s chest warms at the sight.

Walking out he approaches her and he notices the nervousness in her eyes once she spots him, locking her phone. 

“What are you doing here so late?” he asks, grabbing a chair from the neighboring desk and rolling it over so he sits right in front of her. 

“I just… thought that I could… wait for you.”

“You should be home, resting.”

“You too,” she retorts and he can’t help the smile that tugs on his lips. She looks so soft and warm, he must reach out and touch her, so leaning forward he places a hand on her thigh and he doesn’t miss how she sucks on her breath at the contact. 

He grabs onto her with his other hand as well and pulls her closer, until he can reach her face and cup her cheek in his hand. She melts into his touch instantly and Harry realizes how much he craved to touch her for more than just a fleeting second. 

“Why did you want to wait for me, Y/N? Hm?” he murmurs lowly, leaning forward until his forehead meets hers. She just hums in reply, her eyes fluttering close. “Did you miss me?”

“Yes,” she breathes out.

“But I’ve been right here all week,” he teases her.

“But not… like that.” It comes out as a whine, her hands grab onto his shirt at his stomach, tugging on the fabric needily. 

“Like what?” His nose brushes against hers, his lips only a breath away from mouth. She squirms when one of his hands slips down to her neck. He is going insane at how responsive she is, just one touch and she trembles, giving away just how much she wants him. 

Fucking addictive. 

“I want you, like… last time…” 

It’s clear to him how bashful she is, talking about what happened between them, but he is eager to hear her say it out loud.

“What did we do last time?” He angles her face so his lips could press against her cheek while his other hand wanders down to her lap, sneakily slipping between her legs. He feels the heat instantly and when he gently presses against her clothed center, she moans shamelessly and Harry’s cock twitches in an instant. 

“We… we…” Now she is struggling, because he is slowly stroking her, teasing and playing with her.

“Come on, baby. Say it for me.”

“We… Y-you made me come,” she finally answers and Harry hums approvingly before gently biting her jawline, then presses a kiss to the same spot. 

“That’s right, how?” He pushes his fingers against her slightly harder and faster now, her hips start rocking at the same pace, eager for more friction. She lets go of his shirt and her hands grab onto the base of his neck as if she is about to fall and she needs leverage.

“I was… It’s…” Words get lost on her tongue, her thoughts are a mess and incoherent as she feels herself inching towards her orgasm. 

“Come on, Y/N. I want to hear from you. I won’t make you come now until you say it.”

To emphasize that he is serious, he retreats his hand and she hisses unhappily at the lack of it instantly. Her eyes pop open and he loves the fire in them, almost angry at him. It’s such a turn on for him, he would love to fuck her until she turns back into her soft, sweet, submissive self. 

“You made me grind on your hard cock until I came.”

Her words come out crystal clear, none of the shyness is there that kept her stuttering before. Harry’s grin grows wide and his hand returns between her legs to finish what he started. 

It doesn’t take long before her breath hitches as her orgasm blows up and when her lips part, he is quick to swallow her moans, kissing her so roughly it’s almost painful, but it just makes her climax even stronger. 

“You are so fucking beautiful when you come undone from my touch.” He keeps kissing her, softer and softer until he is basically just pressing his lips against hers while she is still trying to catch her breath. 

Once her head clears her eyes instantly snap down at his lap, the outline of his hard cock making his lust quite undeniably. 

“No, Y/N.”

“Again?” She almost pouts, her hands falling to his thighs, gently rubbing them up and down. 

“I told you. If you touch my cock right now, there is no going back, but this is not the right time and place.”

“But when?” she practically whines. 

“Friday? I’m hoping to finish at a human time,” he chuckles softly, placing a kiss to the corner of her mouth. 

“Okay,” she nods, defeated.

“Don’t be so sad. I promise to make up for the delay.” He flashes a devilish smile at her before kissing her hard, then standing up. “Come on, let’s get you home.”

***

Y/N arrives at work with a buzz and it’s not because of the end of the work week. Well, kind of, because that also means she is finally meeting Harry outside of the office. 

He texted her last night, assuring her that he will put everything down once the clock hits 5 o’clock and then asked for her address so he could send a taxi to pick her up and drive her to his place later in the evening. And now Y/N can’t wait for the day to be over so she could head home, have an everything-shower and then finally do what she’s been wanting to do not just all day but probably since her interview months ago.

Focusing on her work is harder now, but she somehow manages to get into the flow, so when her calendar’s reminder pops up about a meeting starting in ten minutes, she has to snap out of all those numbers and tables that sucked her right in. 

Then she realizes she is about to meet her new boss. 

She meets her teammates halfway to the meeting room and they walk in, finding Harry already in there with an unknown man. Harry’s eyes flicker at Y/N for a short second, but she can’t read anything in them as he stands from his seat.

“Hello everyone. I would like to introduce you to Rowan James, your new team lead,” Harry announces.

Rowan James is an objectively attractive guy, Y/N can’t deny that. In his tailored navy blue suit and crispy, white shirt, hair tousled just enough to give him that slightly unfinished look while still appearing put-together. His warm brown eyes swipe over the team before he walks over and shakes hands with everyone. 

His hold is firm, but not painful and he pays extra attention to listen to their names to learn them as fast as possible. If Y/N met him a couple of months ago or even two weeks ago, she probably would have had a fleeting crush on him. But now, as her gaze slides over to Harry all she can think about is what he has planned for her for tonight. 

She cannot look at other men the same way she did before him. 

“It’s so nice to meet you, I’m looking forward to having a one-on-one session with all of you.”

“I will be onboarding Rowan in the next weeks, gradually handing over all tasks, but I would like you all to evaluate the tasks you currently have and should be handed over as well.”

Y/N straightens her back as if she is sitting across from a teacher. Harry is radiating  authority, he has that expression on that’s all business, focused and professional. It could be scary, but for Y/N it has always brought an odd sense of comfort, because she knew whatever they had to handle, they would succeed no matter what if Harry looked like that. 

They talk a bit about themselves, hobbies, interests and then start to map out how they can all work together to make Rowan’s onboarding as smooth as possible. When the meeting is over everyone has their own action items and Y/N knows they got this. However, Harry seems somewhat… grumpy. As people start going their own way she tries to have a word with him, but he is busy instructing Rowan about something on his computer, so she leaves as well and carries on with her day. 

***

Harry feels off. 

He’s been having non-stop meetings with Rowan and everyone else he will be working with and he is trying his best to do a thorough handover while taking care of his own tasks as well, so it’s a crammed day. Rowan is nice, has good humor, a pleasant guy to be around and yet…

Something feels off. 

Harry can’t put his finger on it, the feeling settles in his chest and keeps bugging him all day, but realization hits him sometime in the afternoon when he sees Rowan sitting next to Y/N at her desk, looking at her screen.

It’s a simple scene, Y/N is talking about their ticketing system and how they usually assign tasks between each other, nothing unusual, but when he sees them share a laugh at something, everything clicks. 

He is jealous. 

Rowan is a good looking bloke, nice and smart, exactly like the kind of guy Harry imagines Y/N go for and seeing them work together just amplifies that thought in his mind. As he returns to his office and joins another call he is still musing over how he feels possessive over her even though she is not even hers. 

But he’s the one who’s made her come the last two times… Or is he?

The thought of Y/N messing around with someone else makes him feral. The call he is in is long forgotten, all he can think about is how crazy he is going over her and by the time he ends the call he knows he should clear the air out before he touches her tonight. 

***

She feels like before her first ever date in high school. Jittery, nervous, kind of lost. 

The taxi picks her up at seven, sharp, and then she is on her way to Harry’s place. Even the thought makes her stomach churn, it all kind of feels like a fever dream still. 

How is it going to be? What will happen? What if she messes up? Will he kick her out right after? 

When she gets out of the taxi in front of the luxurious apartment building, her hands are shaking and she thinks about just walking away, but she also wants this so much, she would regret not even trying. In the elevator she watches the numbers change, taking deep breaths after every fifth floor. And then she arrives at the twenty-seventh floor, the door opens and there she is, standing in front of his front door. Just when she is about to knock, it opens, revealing him. 

Harry stands there barefoot, in the same outfit he wore today, but the first few buttons are now undone on his shirt, revealing his tattooed chest, some hair and also a thin chain with a pendant that’s hidden from her eyes for now. 

“Come on in,” he softly murmurs, holding the door open for her. 

The place is somewhat what she expected, tasteful, expensive but not loudly, though it’s cozier than she imagined. Seemingly, Harry likes art, paintings, sculptures, books, there is something in almost every corner. 

Harry leads her into the open concept kitchen and she spots two wine glasses on the counter already. 

“Would you like a glass?”

“Sure,” she nods and lets out a shaky breath that catches his attention. 

“You don’t have to, Y/N. It’s all on you.”

He is talking about the wine, but at the same time, something else too. 

“I know. A glass sounds good,” she nods with a soft smile and watches him grab a bottle from the fridge and then pour some into both glasses, handing her one. 

She feels out of place and quite unsure what should be happening right now. Are they just gonna drink and talk? Or shouldn’t they just jump right into the fun?

“I wanted to talk to you first,” Harry says as if he could read her mind. He is leaning against the counter while Y/N is by the kitchen island, they have a decent distance between them, but it could be crossed with just one stride. 

“Okay.”

“I assume that since you’re here, you still feel the same way about… me.”

Heat creeps up her neck, to her cheeks and ears. She just nods, confirming his words.

“Good.” A tiny smile tugs on the corners of his mouth and it’s a relief, seeing this reaction, because he’s been acting quite distant towards her all day. 

Harry takes a sip from his wine and she mirrors him, doing the same, then he puts the glass down while she keeps it in her hands, just to busy them. 

“Are you in any type of relationship with someone else?”

Her mouth runs dry at his question.

“N-no. Are you?” 

“No,” he answers firmly. “Are you planning to be sexually active with someone else if we take this further?”

“I’m not a hooker,” she scoffs, finally understanding what it’s about. 

“I’m aware. But you’re an attractive, smart, wonderful woman who has every right to have fun with multiple men parallelly.”

She finds it hilarious that Harry thinks she is one, the type to hook up with more guys at the same time and two, she can get more than one guy to hook up with her. 

Because finding just one had been hard for her. 

Harry exhales through his nose and she notices a change in him. His shoulders fall and his expression looks almost… tortured.

“I don’t share, Y/N. If you plan on hooking up with others, then just tell me now, because I can’t–”

“I don’t want to hook up with others,” she blurts out. “I only want you.”

The vulnerability of her confession tightens her chest and the way he is inspecting her doesn’t change, but then she sees the fire in his gaze, though he is obviously trying to hold it back. 

“What about if you meet someone new?” he challenges. She narrows her eyes at him.

“Is this… about my new team leader?” Harry’s lack of answer talks for him. “I don’t want anything from him. I don’t want anything from anyone else.”

It’s hard for her to believe Harry is asking her all these questions because he’s jealous, but the look on his face clearly gives away his doubts right now. 

“He just seemed like… a great guy.”

“Yeah,” she nods, putting her own glass down before folding her arms over her chest. “He is a great guy.”

Harry’s jaw flexes and he nods, his annoyance and jealousy is now quite amusing to her, but she doesn’t want to push him more.

“But I don’t want him to bend over his desk and fuck me until I forget my own name.” 

The fire she saw in his eyes earlier is now a full on, raging wildfire that’s consuming everything around. His eyes drag down her body, taking his time without any shame as he drinks in the sight of all of her curves before his gaze drags back up to her eyes. She is throbbing just from his look.

“I need your consent, Y/N,” he firmly says. “I need to hear that you’re not here because you feel obligated, because I’m in a higher position. You have to say it before I touch you.”

“I’m here because I want you, it has nothing to do with your position or your power in the company. You have my full consent–”

That’s all he needed. He finally takes that one long stride and his lips smash against hers in a hungry, demanding kiss as his hands grab her face, pulling her into him even though she possibly can’t be closer as he is pushing her against the kitchen island with his hips. Suddenly, everything is forgotten, her nervousness and fears, his doubts and jealousy, it’s just their combined want and lust for each other. 

Harry loosens up his push against her just enough so that he can grab the hem of her shirt and get rid of it, throwing it to the side while her fingers start working his shirt’s buttons. Once his chest is revealed, she wastes no time gluing her palms onto his pecks, fingers digging into his flesh, loving the feeling of the muscles moving underneath them as Harry takes the shirt off. 

She gasps shortly when he grabs the back of her thighs and lifts her up into his arms while his lips start kissing and nibbling on the soft skin right underneath her jawline. Y/N can sense that they are moving somewhere, but her eyes are rolled back from the sensation his tongue is giving her against her heated skin. They don’t move too far though and Harry puts her back down to her wobbly feet, she is standing now on something softer, a rug, then pulls away and she almost starts protesting, but then her gaze meets his and the words die on her tongue. 

He doesn’t say anything, just reaches down and starts undoing his pants, pushing them down his legs until he can just step out of them, leaving him only in his boxer briefs. It’s an invitation, an unsaid one, but Y/N understands it clearly. 

Now is the time to do what I didn’t let you do before, his look says and she is more than eager to take on the task. 

She sinks to her knees with ease, her hands reaching back to gather her hair with the elastic she put on her wrist before leaving, but he is quick to stop her.

“I’ve got this,” he murmurs lowly, his palm closes around her hair and twisting it he makes sure he is pulling it just enough that he is not hurting her, but gives her scalp tingles. 

She grabs the elastic of his underwear, almost expecting him to stop her again, but when he blinks up at him, she only sees him expectantly staring down at her with slightly parted lips. So she tugs on the fabric and a moment later his cock springs free, hard and throbbing and fucking mouthwatering. 

She glances up at him again and wraps her hands around the base, feeling up the girth and length at first, giving him a few gentle tugs and judging from the way his hold on her hair tightens, he is very much enjoying her touches. Then she leans closer, eyes still up on his face as she sticks her tongue out and swirls it around the head. His cock twitches in her hands and he hisses at the sensation. Loving the reactions so far she gains confidence and then moves her head further forward, his cock sliding into her wet mouth inch by inch until the head hits the back of her throat and she pulls back. 

“Fuck, you look so good with my cock in your mouth,” he groans as she slowly starts moving back and forth, trying to take as much of him as possible, her hand playing with the rest of his length and his balls, fighting the urge to reach between her legs and touch herself as well. 

She tries to change up the angle a few times, push herself some more and make him go deeper into her throat and every time she earns a deep, guttural groan from him, a clear sign that she is doing well. 

His hold on her hair tightens then and when she is going forward, he pushes on her head just a little more, until she is gagging on him and then he pulls her back and up onto her feet. She is still a mess, tears and her own saliva is smudged on her face, but he doesn’t hesitate to kiss her, hard and eager as his hands work the front of her pants. She is quick to give a helping hand and once the pants are pooling on the floor, he picks her up again and carries her into the bedroom this time.

She gasps when she is thrown onto the firm, but comfortable mattress and Harry is quick to climb on top of her, his lips smashing against hers. His briefs are still on, though his erection is free, Y/N blindly reaches down and pushes the fabric further down until she can sink her fingers into his ass, bringing him closer, his cock pressing against her soaking wet center. 

Harry pulls back so he can get rid of his underwear and then in all of his naked glory, he takes a few seconds to admire the sight of her sprawled out in front of him in her underwear, the fabric of her panties has a clear darker spot between her legs and her nipples are poking against the thin material of her bralette. 

“Fucking hell,” he breathes out, one hand wrapping around his cock, giving it a few lazy tugs

Y/N has never felt more beautiful and wanted in her life, the burning lust in his eyes, the heat radiating from his body, she is now questioning every previous experience she has had, because they didn’t bring her this kind of explosion in her veins. 

Harry climbs on top of her again, he kisses her, but he is a tad bit softer this time, like he wants to savor this moment. He slips one hand under her back and easily unclasps her bralette. She wiggles it off her arms and pushes it to the side right before Harry slides lower, his mouth finding one of her pebbled nipples. 

“Fuck!” she gasps, when he gently bites it. He flashes her a smug grin before pressing a kiss on it and moving to the other one. 

He takes his sweet time kissing all over her chest and stomach, then he moves down to her thighs, avoiding to even touch her anywhere near her underwear that’s the very last item she is wearing. With every teasing kiss he presses to her soft skin, she starts wiggling more underneath, desperate to feel more of him, but it seems like he is sticking to torturing him. 

“Harry, please!” she begs when his lips are so damn close to her cunt, but still not there. 

“Please what?” he asks, hooking a finger into the elastic, but not pulling on it yet. 

“I need more!” she whines, chest heaving, hips grinding. 

“More of what?”

“You!”

Her answer surprises him, not what he wanted to hear, but… it might be even better and enough for him to give up the game he’s been playing. Finally, he pulls her panties down, throwing it to the side and when Y/N instinctively tries to snap her knees together to cover herself, something she doesn’t do on purpose, he is quick to wedge his hands between them, forcing them apart, wide open so he has a great view of her cunt, glistening from her arousal. 

Harry reaches out and drags two fingers down between her folds, softly and almost shyly, as if he couldn’t believe he is touching her and she is this wet, all for him. Then he gets comfortable between her legs, his hands on her inner thighs to keep them open and he wishes he could record the moan she lets out once his mouth is on her cunt. 

She grinds her hips against his face, his tongue moving perfectly against her clit and then teases her opening. He pays close attention to her reactions, making sure to keep doing what makes her shiver or gasp for air. When the muscle on her inner thigh starts twitching he assumes she is close, so he pulls back, climbing off the bed all together, walking over to his nightstand to grab a condom. In the meanwhile, Y/N is trying to catch her breath and fight the urge to cry at the lack of him all of a sudden. Turning her head to the side she catches as Harry rolls the condom on and then he is back on the bed next to her. He kisses her, lazily but deep, their tongues melting together before he pulls back and gently starts to rearrange her on the mattress. She obeys like a doll, ready to do anything he asks from her just to feel him some more. 

Soon, she finds herself on all four facing the end of the bed, Harry kneeling behind her and when she lifts her head she notices there is a big mirror right in front of her, allowing her to see him clearly even despite the position. Harry’s gaze catches hers in the mirror as his hands grab onto her hips, squeezing them and before moving to the next step he leans down and presses a gentle kiss to her spine at her waist. 

“Let me know if it’s too much,” he tells her and she just nods eagerly, only wanting to feel him inside her already. 

When she feels his head poking at her cunt her arms shake for a moment. He wedges his shaft between her folds at first, thrusting back and forth a few times, gathering her juices before he grabs the base and positions himself to her center. 

Her mouth hangs open as he starts pushing in, watching his face twitch in the mirror as he tries to hold himself back from pounding into her without a care. Her walls are stretching, trying to shape to his size, painful and blissful at the same time. He pushes in halfway at first, stops for a few seconds, then pulls out and goes in again, this time deeper. He goes like this, inching further with each thrust until she is taking his whole length. 

He starts off slowly, but the pace quickly changes when he feels like she is used to him. His grip tightens on her hips as his thrusts get rougher, his hips smacking against her ass. Every time she feels like her arms and legs might give up she looks into the mirror and seeing him pound into her keeps her together. She watches as his skin starts glistening from the sweat and especially loves it when he moves a bit, finds a new, better angle and his head falls back as he moans her name. 

A sight and sound straight out of heaven. 

Harry notices that she is struggling to hold herself up, so leaning forward he circles his arms around her and pulls her up until she is kneeling as well, her back against his chest. She lets her weight push against him as he keeps fucking her in this new position. She looks into the mirror again, the sight of his hands gripping her stomach and breasts is so pornographic. Then he buries his face into her neck, sucking on the skin as she reaches back and rakes her hand through his damp hair. 

“I’m close,” she pants. She is practically sitting on his lap as he is fucking her from behind, the position is allowing him to reach a spot that’s rapidly pushing her towards the edge. 

“Go on, want to feel you come on my cock. Give it to me.”

His hands grope her breasts hard, his fingers might leave marks, but it feels so good, the pain paired with her nearing orgasm. 

When she finally tips over the edge her hands snap against his thighs, her walls grip his cock tight as he keeps moving. She is still riding the last waves of her orgasm when he follows, his thrusts fall out of rhythm and go even deeper if that’s possible as he releases himself into the condom. 

His movements become sloppy until he stops, but they remain in the same position, neither of them wanting to break the connection between them. 

Then gently, he pulls out of her, a disapproving whine bubbling from her throat that just earns a chuckle from him as he carefully moves them around until they are lying on the mattress again. Her whole body feels like noodles, sweat is drying on her skin, the coldness slowly wraps her in its arms, but she is way too sent to cover herself. 

Harry slips off the bed, he doesn’t fight the urge to kiss her swollen lips softly before he disappears in the bathroom. He returns with a damp towel and he carefully cleans her up while she just enjoys the sight of him taking care of her. He quickly disgards the towel and then leans down, hands on each side of her head as he holds himself up. 

Now she notices the necklace again, the cross pendant is hanging in front of her, along with a…

She reaches up to grab it and takes a closer look and when she realizes it’s a banana, she can’t help the soft chuckle.

“What?” he grins down at her.

“Has this been under your shirt all along?”

“Never take it off.”

Instead of a reply, she just hooks a finger into the chain and pulls him down until their lips meet again. 

“Do you want something to wear for the night?” he asks between kisses. She swallows back her smile, because his question means he wants her to stay. 

“No.”

“Good answer.”

Harry climbs back to bed and peels the covers from under her so he can wrap themselves, though she is enjoying him wrapped around her a lot more. Their limbs are tangled, her head is pressed against his chest, listening to his steady heartbeat while he plays with her hair, occasionally kissing the crown of her head. 

“Good night, Y/N,” she hears him murmur and a moment later she is drifting off to sleep.

Thank you for reading, please like and reblog if you enjoyed and buy me a coffee if you want to support me!

[woso-dreamzzz]

Ballers II

Leah Williamson x Sister!Reader

Summary: The National Championship game

“Bueckers to Fudd. Fudd to Williamson, back to Fudd. Fudd…Williamson with the rebound! You bet!”

It’s an awful stream.

It’s of terrible quality and kind of glitchy and definitely on a bit of delay but it’s the best Leah could find. Her first two, high quality streams were flagged for copyright and she’d scrambled to find another one on the internet without missing too much of your game.

Leah thinks the team must think her mad as she paces back and forth, worrying her bottom lip with her teeth as she glances up at the tv screen she’s co-opted for the next few hours.

Grace had tried to change it to something else but Leah had accidentally shouted at her so now the team were looking at her like she was about to pop a fuse or something.

“It’ll be fine,” Keira says dismissively,” They’re already leading. You’re worrying for nothing.”

“Don’t jinx it!” Leah hisses as you set up a screen and Azzi Fudd sinks a bucket,” Just…” She takes a deep breath. “Just…No one mention anything about the score. About the opposition. About…About anything.”

Tooney raises a hand. “Can we talk about how well she’s playing?”

Leah thinks for a moment before she delivers a curt nod. “We can.”

You’re leading the team in assists and currently are battling it out with Azzi for the most amount of points too.

But, most importantly of all, you’re smiling.

You’re having fun.

And you’re dominating.

“Williamson with the steal and the three points!”

“Williamson fouled and to the free throw line!”

“Wow, what a block by y/n Williamson!” Your name is on the commentator’s lips.

You might as well be skipping on air, Leah thinks. You're in cruise control and for some reason, it makes Leah's stomach bubble with unease.

It's been your flaw since childhood. Once you're in the groove, once you've started dominating, you start to think no one can touch you. You start to think that no one can stop you.

You grew up with Leah and Jacob as older siblings though. They always knew how to smack you back down to earth.

Leah knew she was an annoying older sister. She liked to ruffle your hair when you were both little. She liked to lord her height over you when you were still tiny.

You grew up with her and her antics and you rose to each challenge she set on you.

You got a bit cocky after that. Cocky like you are now as you sink a three and practically go skipping back to the other end of the court.

The grin on your face never disappears and Leah hopes that no one on the South Carolina team are looking to smack you down.

This is your last college game.

Not of the season.

But of your life.

You'd already told Leah during one of your late night catch up sessions that you were going to declare for the draft, that you were done with college.

This is your last game as a Husky, your last college game ever.

Leah wants you to go off on a high.

"I know you said not to mention the score-"

"Don't mention it!"

Keira ignores her. "But they've got a healthy lead. A ten point lead before the third quarter. It's looking good."

Leah buries her head in her hands as she falls back into her seat. "Don't jinx it," She groans," You're going to jinx it."

"I'm not jinxing everything. As if y/n is going to let that team lose. She and her girlfriend-"

"She doesn't have a girlfriend."

"Yes, sorry, I meant girlfriends-"

"She doesn't have girlfriends either!"

Keira snickers and Leah knows she's only doing it to try and redirect the nerves. "I'm just saying, when you've kissed half the team-"

"I should have never told you that."

"You didn't tell me anything. I got it straight from y/n."

Leah rolls her eyes fondly just as her eyes focus back onto the screen where you stand giving an interview before you return to the locker room.

You're talking. Your lips are moving and the smile is still on your face even as you try to catch your breath. You're definitely speaking but it all fades away in Leah's ears as she smiles up at the screen.

She knows how much this means to you. She knows how much you want this championship, probably more than you've ever wanted anything before apart from, maybe, when you were six and you wanted those new school shoes with the little doll in the heel.

Apart from that, you want this championship more than anything you've ever wanted in your life.

You're smiling and you're laughing, out of breath, with the woman interviewing you.

But Leah can see it in your eyes.

She can see your hunger. She can see your drive. She can see the way that you're about to grasp this game by its neck until it gives you that trophy you've been craving.

There are levels to this game, Leah realises as you come out for the third quarter like you haven't just poured your whole being into the first two.

You're playing like you've been rested for two days. You're playing like you've had the best night sleep. You're playing like you're against a bunch of your kid cousins at home.

"And there's the buzzer!"

Leah can barely see you in the crowd of your teammates, all of you jumping and screaming and celebrating.

She's thankful that her own teammates haven't brought up the fact that she's crying. She's thankful none of them even look at her strangely for doing it.

They seem to realise how much this means to you and, in turn, just how much it means to Leah.

"Leah! Leah!" You say on the phone to her barely thirty minutes later," Leah, did you see?"

You're walking on clouds as you show Leah the trophy. You don't look like you've stopped smiling since the moment you stepped foot onto the court.

Leah's sure that tomorrow morning your cheeks will hurt from the grin that seems to have a permanent place on your features.

"Of course I saw!" Leah laughs," Look at you! A national champion!"

"National champion and most outstanding player!" You brag," But Paige won't let me wear the net."

"I'm sure she'll give it to you at some point."

"I'll make sure of it. She can't hog it forever!"

The joy on your face is infectious. Leah knows your smile reflects on her face.

"I'm proud of you," She says," So proud of you."

A crack shows on your face, brows pulling together for a moment before a much shyer smile appears on your features.

"Yeah?"

"Yeah," Leah says," I'm so proud of you. You deserve this more than anyone."

[prael]

Integrity

Newjeans Hanni x male reader smut

Happy Hanni Day!

Masterlist word count: 6,048 Kofi(donations/commissions)

It's a really long way to travel, and doubly so when you get fuck all from it. It's not like you were after anything ground-breaking—it's just a fashion show, after all.

It's about as close as you get to 'phoning it in' as a journalist. A few copy-and-paste interviews to accompany some snapshots of the season's latest designs. A couple hundred words, cut and run. Who wore what dress and who wore it the tightest. You could probably type most of it out on the plane without ever leaving your seat, and the public will still eat it up.

Somewhere over Austria, you mulled over that very fact.

Four days later, somewhere over Hungary, you're scrambling to do exactly that.

The whole thing is going fine. Fine, right up until it isn't. Maybe it's the sound of your fingers on the keys or the pocket of air that rocked the plane in that familiar gut-wrenching way, but her eyes are opening slowly. She's mouthing something, her fingers reaching around behind her, under the thin layer of blankets she is enveloped in.

"Are we there yet?" she murmurs, fishing her phone out of her blanket, sleepiness and all.

"Not even close," you say as flatly as you can, returning to a few words you'd been rolling over in your head for the better part of thirty minutes.

"What are you writing about?" She asks from down on her fully reclined seat that's moonlighting as a bed.

"You," you say with a small laugh, not looking away from your laptop.

"What about me?" Hanni's phone lights up, cutting through the darkness and finally making her face visible. The cabin is in full black-out since it's the middle of the night, and the dividers in first-class keep the two of you isolated.

"Your clothes, mostly. Generic fashion show stuff. Doesn't really matter. I put the names Gucci and Hanni Pham in an article and it sells itself. Instant clicks. S'like... two baits for one fish."

"You say that like it's a bad thing."

"Probably is," you reply, knowing full well that there's little to be proud of in here. It's all surface level after all, since adding the things you know now might raise a few eyebrows. All the investigative journalism you've done over the past few days isn't exactly something you can write about. Though you can't deny it, an article about the beauty mark right below her waistline would probably send the masses into a frenzy.

You can hear her tapping on her screen a few more times, and with the silence in the first-class cabin at night, you find yourself focusing on those sounds more than your writing. Tap. Tap. Tap. Pause. Sigh. Tap. Tap.

"What is it?"

"Can't sleep," comes her whispered reply as she pushes herself up with that strange grunt you often hear her make, propping her pillow against the bulkhead and stretching out.

"Drugs not working?"

She shakes her head. "Not doing much."

"If my typing is too loud I can stop—"

"No, you focus. I'll find something to keep myself distracted." She locks her phone again and disappears into the darkness again, her soft breathing almost inaudible. Minutes go by. You manage a full two paragraphs before hearing her moving in the darkness again.

"Hanni?"

"Shh."

The slow shifting goes on for another few seconds, and in the darkness, you can make out the movement of her blanket as she slides off the chair down to your feet. What hits you next is her fingers reaching into your waistband.

"Hann—"

"Quiet," she whispers back. You quickly pick up the laptop from resting on your lap before her attempts to undress you can send it crashing to the floor. You're quick to place it on her seat and close its cover, out of her reach just in time before she slides your pants down.

She doesn't say anything, just lets you lay there in silence as her fingers guide you into her mouth. It is almost unnerving how used to it you have become in such a short time—how easy it has become for you, a supposed professional, to mix business and pleasure to this degree.

Hanni goes on unperturbed, wetting you between plump lips that trail up and down your length.

There is nothing you can do at this point but give in and just throw your head back. You grow harder under her touch and her tongue and judging by the way she grows more aggressive with her movements, Hanni is starting to enjoy herself as well. You can't quite make out her face, but you already know the look she's wearing. Can practically see it in your mind's eye; the look of wide-eyed desire as she takes you further in, lips rounding out over teeth as she welcomes every inch you give her until her cheeks cave in from sucking.

It's fucking burned into your brain. You've seen it so much, among so many other filthy expressions, you aren't sure if you could ever forget it.

Your hand reaches down blindly in the darkness until it finds the back of her head. The mere fact that the both of you are sitting on this plane hundreds of miles above the ground is instantly forgotten, fading out from consciousness and sense as she holds on, massaging your balls with one hand.

You let yourself lay there like this, fingers tangled in her hair, cock buried in her mouth. The thought of pulling her up and reciprocating is never far from your mind, but her grip on your hips is certain. This is all her right now. She's in charge.

She does not lack the pace to prove it.

Her head bobs up and down in the dark, tongue guiding you further in with every motion, lips slipping further down along your shaft, saliva pooling at your base. Her humming is growing—you can't hear it, but you can feel it. It resonates all the way through you, down the aching hardness she keeps stroking with her tongue, and even further to fuel that tension building in your lower stomach.

"Holy fuck," you curse under your breath, voice catching in your throat, lost in the motion of the plane's droning vibrations and her eager motions.

She pops you from her mouth, stroking your cock with a twist of a wrist and something she is doing with her tongue at the tip. As your eyes begin to adjust, you can see that spit has mixed with precum, dribbling down and over the back of her knuckles. It's lewd and over the top and everything that Hanni Pham, an innocent idol, pretends not to be.

"What? You want me to stop?"

"Fuck no," you whisper back, heart pumping in your ears. The feeling of her strokes, suddenly more controlled and tense without the benefit of her mouth is as jarring as it is fleeting.

"Didn't think so." With that, she brings her head back down to take you in her mouth again, hot breaths hitting the spit-slick surface of your dick. It's dirty and clumsy, messy and wet, and each time she swallows you, your entire body shudders with pleasure, coiling every muscle and feeling it climb upward until your stomach goes tight and you find yourself pushing her down, further, faster, until she is sucking what little air she has.

You are wound tight. Agonising, torturous tension pulling ever outward from your centre with each motion she makes. Every twitch of her tongue—fuck, does she work her tongue—spurs some sort of response down to the very tips of your toes.

It's a complete relapse. Back to four days ago, in the back of the car, with nothing but a divider between you and the driver. Cumming inside Hanni's pretty mouth and feeling her swallow every bit, then going on like nothing happened.

-

There's usually not a lot of enthusiasm for an interview. You have spent the whole morning being shrugged off by star after star after star. To them, they're there to look pretty. To show face and represent their brands. Answers are pre-written garbage to be regurgitated over and over like everyone is sharing the same stupid fucking tongue.

Then there's little miss backless-top. Denim jeans and a shirt with frills that barely keeps her modesty. Big, brown eyes and a smile that fills her whole face. Add her vibrance and energy and she really gets your journalistic gears turning. There's something fresh about her. How when you approach her, she engages you in a conversation like you're an actual person and not just some cardboard cut-out of a journalist.

Hanni Pham knows her shit. It's part of the training. She handles media with all the grace of someone born to do it and the energy of someone who loves it. So not only does she give you answers there and then, but when you make the request to sit down with her later and get all you need to do a whole feature on her, she's quickly turning to the powers that be to make it happen.

She should have been a ten-minute addendum. An hourglass figure strutting and posing and laughing her pretty little ass off for cameras for the adoring public. Instead, Hanni fucking Pham, you've got her. For hours.

So you sit down in a quiet little room you managed to reserve with the company card, and she's right across from you, with two glasses of water and a notepad on a table in an otherwise empty room.

"Is this going to be recorded?" She asks first, though looks sceptical and unprepared.

"Normally, yes. But I would prefer us to be a little more comfortable. I'm going to take notes, that's all."

"I like that." She claps, like there's an imaginary audience watching, even if you're the only one there. "So, what are we covering?"

"Everything. To start," you shift a little closer to the table. "Think of this being more about you rather than what you're wearing."

She gives you a little bit of a quizzical look.

"I know. Fashion show. Just, work with me here. The Gucci brand gets the clicks, I want to introduce those clickers to the girl wearing the clothes."

Hanni nods, her eyes light up a little and you can't help but notice how she is really fucking adorable. Up close, she's even prettier. It throws you off for a second as you bring up the notepad. The blank pages stare up at you—mock you. Where do you even begin?

"We met briefly earlier, and you're standing alongside stars from many industries and the lead designer at Gucci."

"Yes," she smiles politely. "That was exciting. Kind of surreal, really."

"So what does it take to be who you are? A girl of Vietnamese blood, born in Melbourne, working in South Korea and travelling to Europe for fashion shows?"

"Uhm, like, honestly?" She shifts in her seat. "Really a lot of hard work. Endless and stressful and never-ending hard work. You know? From singing and dancing, to the language lessons and the dieting and working out. It needs hard work and, well, a lot of luck too."

"You make your own luck." You nod, before jotting down into your notepad.

She tilts her head in response. "I suppose so. That's very quotable if you want. I made my own luck by working hard."

"And yet you're still young, what, turning twenty?"

"Just." Hanni nods.

"Barely twenty and making waves. Do you still feel like you have so much more to give?"

"Oh fuck yeah," she quickly confirms. "Wait, don't write that down."

"Oh... fuck... yeah." You sound out the words as you pretend to write them in the notepad.

"Hey!" Hanni laughs, and it's beautiful. It fills the room and just makes her glow with warmth. "Cut me some slack."

"Alright. Alright. So is this what you envisioned? Being twenty and being here?"

"You mean in this room with you?"

You laugh too. The jokes come so naturally to her.

"I'm happy where I am, it really was always my dream."

"To be in this room with me?"

"Fuck you," she laughs. "But, in a way, yes. I wouldn't be here if I didn't achieve my dream, would I?"

"That's very true. Then what is next for you?"

"There's no end goal." Hanni tilts her head. You follow her hand as it passes through her hair. She's studying you just like you are studying her. "I don't think I'll ever sit back and say 'that's enough.' That's not who I am."

"Ambitious. The question now is what are you chasing?"

"Is that you asking or the article?"

"Both," you say with a wry smile.

"For the article: I want to tour the world, keep improving and working hard. Release more music."

You scribble down a few notes and then click the top of the pen. "And off the record?"

"To spend a little more time focusing on myself. Time is fleeting. I should try and enjoy it while it lasts."

"You're young, pretty and successful. You have plenty of opportunity to do just that."

"Is that flirting?" she jokes, cocking her brow with a seductive smile.

"I'm just stating facts. I'm married to the truth." You gesture to your notepad. "So let's get back on the record, shall we?"

-

One delayed layover later and you're back in the air, and after your brief break to let Hanni drain you into her throat, you managed to get back to finishing up the article, so for the final stretch, the two of you are lying together in one of the first-class beds, and the conversation kept going.

"How are you single?" she's asking, while you're spooning her.

"Mostly because of my job. Definitely the baggage and constant travelling. Takes a special woman to not hate this."

"Sounds like idol life. I know so many idols who try to date but you just never have the time to see each other. We tour constantly and are always on the road. A long day of practising and comeback planning and comeback filming and comeback rehearsing, and more hours of sleep and eating to prep for the next comeback, you're always too exhausted."

"Such a shame." You lower the blanket that's covering her bare chest. Her breasts fill your palm as you caress them, gently. "A pretty thing like you deserves so much better than empty hotel rooms."

"Flirt," she playfully chastises, pressing her ass to your crotch before sliding forward to give you some friction, grinning at you over her shoulder. "These past few days, all the sex, I'd be lying if I said I couldn't get used to this."

It's a sentiment so heavily shared, that even now you're thinking about how easy it would be to pin her onto her back and mount her. It isn't easy to shake the thought when her body is practically inviting you inside her.

You're asking instead, still exploring her naked form, "How do you overcome the needs?"

"Other ways..." Hanni replies through closed eyes, her cheeks blushing. "Toys. Helps and hurts. They're no real substitute."

You run your hand over her toned stomach, heading between her thighs and gently prying them open. And there she is. Right fucking there, wet and waiting for you. Your finger glides over her lips and runs the full length of her, and she strains to contain a gentle moan. The problem is, Hanni is really fucking loud, and the walls of this pod are paper thin.

"I want you again," she whispers, and it's a real fucking dilemma.

She guides your cock through the folds of her pussy and leans back her head as she takes it. Fuck, it feels so good being back inside her. Wet and tight and made to grip. A small whimper escapes her when you are in deep, which she tries to swallow.

"You gotta be quiet," you tell her, while all but refusing to move inside her.

"I can be quiet," she grinds against you, but you're not convinced, and with a firm grasp of her jaw, you pull her closer.

"Can you?" you speak under her ear. "Can the oh-so-talented Hanni Pham control herself?"

She lets out another trembling little sound of pleasure while pushing herself onto your shaft. "I think so. All I know is you need to—yeah, right there. Yes." She closes her eyes and tries to stifle that deep groan of enjoyment.

You hush her before it gets too loud with a hand over her mouth. Tentatively, you begin moving, an aching slow journey backward and forward. As tight as her cunt is around your dick, the movement becomes easy. Dragging more pleasure from both of you and as she rolls her hips again, grinding against the motion, the whimpering returns.

"Hanni," you scold gently, pushing further into her with each stroke. "Shhh."

She mouths an 'I can't' into your hand which elicits a laugh from you and turns a smirk into a smile. You're rutting against her ass, savouring the feeling of your hips hitting her soft flesh. Ample curves along with a narrow waist begging you to embrace her. A pretty little thing taking all your cock and urging you on. It's hard not to go harder. "Need you."

"Careful what you wish for," you whisper as she tries to lean back her head in bliss.

Her tongue brushes your knuckles, and the soft sweep feels like a warm, wet invitation to probe further. A few seconds of uncertainty follows, and then her mouth closes around the tips of your fingers and starts to suck. Sharing the same excitement that has gotten the better of you the past few days of endless debauchery.

You sink your fingers deeper. She sucks harder, her moans stifled behind her pursed lips. Anywhere but here and you would throw her face down on the mattress, fuck her into a state of bliss. Make her beg for you and claw the bedsheets. Such an innocent girl, a girl who should have stayed wrapped in silk and lace, but who demands you take her, just a moment longer, just a bit rougher, and how can you refuse a beauty like that?

Just as Hanni settles and relaxes, her body is dragged into tense peaks of delight. Tiny gasps leak from around your fingers as you thrust deeper. She chokes as she orgasms, digging her nails into the arm that is holding her close, her face going bright pink. Sweat on her temples, on her chest. An earthly aroma of wet skin and hot breaths. She swears and curses the pleasure as you pump your orgasm between her thighs.

You fill her. For a while, you are one, grinding together in mutual fulfilment, breathing heavily and lost in your actions. The mess you're making runs from her sweet cunt, down her thigh, onto the bed.

The rush leaves the both of you exhausted. Hanni does nothing to resist you pulling out and emptying the last few drops over her ass. It is all over as quick as it began. It comes with a strange realisation of how natural it all feels to cum inside Hanni Pham.

-

It's not often that someone you interview not only takes your card, but doesn't immediately throw it away, and actually uses the number on there. You're in the back of a cab when it rings. Today's show has just about finished and while you didn't quite manage to snag another interview like the one you did with Hanni, it has been a good day.

"Did you get enough to write about?" is the first question she asks when you answer.

"I got a few bits here and there. Some surface-level stuff from others, but you gave me the marquee piece. I'll fluff up what I have with the spec sheets released and I'm sure it'll be a nice little exclusive."

"That makes me sound important," she giggles.

"You're a fucking celebrity, of course you are important."

"No need to swear."

"Apologies." There's a momentary pause. You let it linger on the call and soon enough, Hanni's laugh fills the silence.

"I'm kidding. Keep up that energy,"

"So, why are you calling? Usually, when I get a call it's to recant some statement or explain a misquote. Did I make a mess of something?"

"Well, not yet. But I have some ideas."

"Ideas?" You repeat, brows raising.

"Where are you now?" she asks, and for a moment you wonder if you shouldn't be answering.

"Taxi. Headed back to the place I'm staying."

"Where are you staying?" It's a strange question for her to ask, you think. Or maybe, it's not strange at all, but timing and circumstance have you considering the way it sounds.

"A hotel."

"Look to your right," she says, making a confusing request, but you look. Of course, you do. Outside the window, in the next lane over, stuck in the very same traffic as you are, is a familiar face. She gives you the widest grin, pressing the phone to her ear.

"Are you following me?" you joke.

"Do you want me to?" There's something playful in her voice, an attempt at seduction that's not exactly subtle.

"Hanni, what are—"

"Just answer the question," she interrupts.

And that's it. There's no reason to evade the truth. Lying to yourself gets no one anywhere. "Yeah. Yeah, I do."

"Good," she murmurs, "you know, I'm still wearing the same outfit as I was at the event. These jeans are getting really uncomfortable." She pulls the phone away from her ear for a second and you hear her call out, "Driver? See that taxi on our left? Follow it, please. And can I get some privacy back here?"

There are some distant sounds from the other side of the phone. An affirmation of orders. Then her voice is right back with you.

"As I was saying, these jeans are really uncomfortable."

"Fashion can hurt," you say flatly.

"You're supposed to tell me to take them off or something. You're not very good at this are you?"

"I didn't realise 'this' is what we were doing." You've developed a stupid fucking smile, even if it's going unseen.

"Hmm, it can be." There is a moment of quiet as if she's thinking. "Hold on a second," Hanni says. There are some vague sounds you can't make out before she comes back to the phone. "Got bored of waiting. Now, keep talking will you? I like the sound of your voice."

"Hanni, what—"

"Just keep talking. Tell me what you think of me." She can't see it, but the look of confusion must be shining bright on your face. At a loss, and under duress, you speak your mind.

"Well, you seem nice." It's a weak first effort. "Very funny, a little confident. You must know you're pretty. Young, but driven." The words you mumble are stilted, but telling the truth.

"Really. You think I'm pretty?"

"Yeah."

"Not sexy?"

"Hanni, you're fucking sexy."

"Thanks," her laugh is like bells, ringing through the car. "That's better. What did you think of my outfit?"

"Daring. Not often do I see an idol go completely backless. Risky."

"Sometimes a risk is worth taking."

"Seems so."

"Tell me more. Tell me what was the part you liked the most?" Her voice drops from that relaxed confidence to a pitch that has your head buzzing with possibility.

"Nice waist. Really looked good with the way those jeans hugged your hips."

There's a long, heavy breath from the other end of the line. Something rustling and then a deep gasp from Hanni.

"What's happening?"

"Nothing. Keep talking. Describe me to me." Her voice is fraught with need, a small tremble in each word.

"Okay." That was permission, or demand, whichever is. You swallow before continuing. "Backless was a good choice. Your bare skin looks great. I'm sure those pictures are going viral already. Betting they are all over the web, all over people's phones."

"Are we close to your hotel?" Hanni strains out the question as if it were hard to say, every syllable wrought in pain.

"Close."

"Good, are you excited?"

"To?"

"See more of my bare skin."

Fuck. The image floods your mind like a dam breaking. Suddenly, she's right there, unclothed and naked and spread open. Suddenly, she's right there, moaning in pleasure, your cock lodged deep inside her.

"Yes," you groan into the phone. It's a painful admission. "Really, Hanni. Really fucking excited."

"So tell me, what are you excited to see?"

"Your ass. Love the way you wore the jeans just a little too tight. Really framed it."

She whispers, "That's all? Anything else, anything special you wanted to see?"

"Your breasts. Like what the top does. Would like to pull it down and play with those breasts." This whole thing is obscene. You're shamelessly spilling your desire to a girl you just met and she's loving every second of it.

Another soft gasp is heard on the call. It's more than that, it's her panting, short snatches of breath as her little gasps become regular, heated and urgent. "And then what?"

"That's a surprise. We're here." The cab pulls up and her car pulls in behind you.

"Room number?"

"Oh-one-two-two," you say, handing over cash to pay the driver and stepping out. "See you there."

-

It's deep into the night now, and her back is pressed against the wall as you're kissing down her neck. For a young woman who looks ever so innocent, you're quickly learning the taste of her body could have the alcohol industry aflame. She's intoxicating and you're addicted. Lips sucking, teeth pressing lightly against tender flesh.

She told you to not wear a condom, not this time. She described your first load as a waste, a sinful injustice after all the things she had done to wring it from you. So now you're back inside her, thinking only of how you're going to decorate her this time, about the moment you can't hold back any longer and cum, uninhibited, spewing mess over her delicate, flawless little body.

So you're just fucking nailing Hanni against the wall, her leg pulled up and knee hooking around your elbow. Holding her there, pounding her cunt the best you possibly can. Her hands scratch deep lines into your back, and her fingernails leave dull aches along your spine. There's something primal in the way she's urging you to fuck her harder, stronger, faster. She wants all of you, just like you want all of her.

You lift her other leg and hold her there, folded against the drywall. The steady pounding begins to churn her insides, to break her fragile body to the rhythm. She's mewling a mixture of sounds in your ear. Begging. Incoherent sounds of need. Then you feel her cunt clenching and tightening, a sudden strength to the grip she has on your shaft.

Hanni screams your name, howling it at the ceiling and the walls while you drive her ever deeper through an orgasm that's torn apart her expression. Utter beauty, sheer excellence. Her quivering pleasure comes with warmth between the two of you. She cums so hard that she goes limp in your arms. Your legs really begin to strain as you pump her full of cock, and her lips find yours again.

Your kisses are savage, the gnashing of teeth and the crush of lips. She's asking for more. Demanding more.

So you throw her to the bed, turning her over and she instinctively drags herself to her knees. Her palms run to the edge of the bed, clawing the blankets as you climb behind her.

"Do you like my ass?" She breathes. Your grip finds the firm flesh with purpose.

"Love your ass," you mutter, taking a hold and angling her towards you.

"Then fuck me." Hanni arches deep, pushing her soft ass in the air and pressing her tits against the mattress. She backs right up to you, begging to be fucked, once more.

The penetration is perfect. Balls deep inside this horny little girl, grabbing a fistful of her hair and using it as leverage. It's hard, it's fast, it's a brutal rut. A sweaty, wet fuck driven by nothing but raw need. She's too wet, too accommodating, clapping herself against your pelvis, meeting your every thrust.

It's not the time to think. Simply let instinct take over. Leaning into it and fucking her.

More words spill from her mouth. More dirty, lewd praises that have your balls aching. It won't be long now. Every muscle, straining with effort, pulls taut. It's such a fucking trip. This once innocent-looking person sucking the life right from the core of your being, bending over for you to force a hand along her spine and bend her further.

"Cum on me," she whimpers again and again. Over and over. She's pleading with you. "Please, cum on me. On my back. Cover me."

There's no further thought, no plan, no point of focus. Everything narrows down to the slick friction around your shaft, and your stomach starting to become strained from the endless effort. To how her ass shakes as your fuck yourself to the edge and how she cranes her neck to watch you.

At the very last moment, you draw out of her and jerk yourself, quick and urgent motions of your wrist. Hanni's knees give way and she lies flat, looking back and watching you as you start to cover her.

The first spurts land high, just beneath her hair. They collect and pool before forming and dripping forward along her shoulder blades. The next spreads across her shoulders. A thin coating that has you shiver as it lands. It goes on and on until you're slathering her in thick lines and ropes.

Something about the sight is so fitting, so delectable, as she lays there and writhes with need, adoring the feeling of being bathed in your lust.

Her expression is an aphrodisiac as she cries out in ecstasy. Her tongue runs across her lips, and then she lets out a soft lass before crashing her face into the soft bedsheets with a moan. Your fist is still pumping rope after rope of cum across her until every muscle feels drained, and you manage to collapse beside her on the bed. You trace a finger across her smooth, plump ass as you catch your breath.

"This is the life," Hanni gasps. "If I could just have endless sex, the world would be a far happier place."

-

You could have been forgiven for thinking it would be a one-off. Just one night of wild sex together before going your separate ways and never speaking again. A nice memory of a beautiful girl to always sit fondly at the back of your mind.

But the very next night, you're in her hotel bathroom. Sharing a bath together, her back pressed flush to your front. You can't fucking resist running a hand between her thighs, working gently over her cunt to hear the wonderful noises she makes.

"Please," she whispers over and over, grinding against your touch.

Ordinarily, you might tease her, and have her beg a little more, but there's nothing more enthralling than the sounds and sights of Hanni's face when she cums. So instead, you're knuckle deep with two fingers and curling them into her cunt, hitting that magic spot just a little more, faster and faster.

On the brink of her second orgasm in ten minutes, Hanni draws a noisy, shuddering breath, the exhalation quickly becoming a sharp, high-pitched wail that fills the bathroom, her eyes glaze as she climaxes. "Fuck. I—that's—more." Her head falls backwards and rests on your shoulder, "yeah, more."

Hanni's petite frame writhes in orgasm. Back arched, panting breaths quickly turning to gasps for air. Eyes flutter and roll backwards before shutting entirely. Every muscle in her tight cunt grips your fingers as waves of pleasure pour from deep inside. She grinds on you, riding the sensation of your touch through the spasms until they finally slow.

"You're so fucking cute when you cum," you kiss her cheek.

It's the compliment that has her rising from the water, she stands in front of you, her wet ass and thighs dripping as she turns toward you. "Me? Cute?" She smirks, lowering herself onto your thighs, resting your cock against her pussy. "Am I really?"

"Cutest fucking thing."

She guides your cock to her wet pussy, sinking down and slowly filling herself, the both of you making a whimper at the sensation. She's in no rush, though. She prefers slow, she favours long, lingering motions where you're all the way inside her and stay there for just a few moments before climbing once more.

Her rhythm has you melting back against the bath. Long, even strokes have her ass lifting and sinking, and she rolls her hips so elegantly that it's natural to reach for her waist and run your hands along her curves.

"I hope you don't think I'm easy," Hanni whispers, her fingers grabbing the hair on the back of your head, locking her hot body against yours, keeping you close, wrapping around you. "But I'm twenty and sex-deprived, so deal with it."

"You're allowed to enjoy sex. Nothing wrong with that," you answer through closed eyes, focusing only on the heat, the skin, the feeling of your cock rubbing through her.

With a mischievous chuckle, she rests her weight on you. Chest to chest, nose against nose.

"Careful," she whispers, her voice fluttering in between soft sighs of excitement. "I could get used to having a man around. Someone willing to get me off, over and over again. You might be stuck with me. Wouldn't that be scandalous? A reporter who's secretly fucking a star like me?"

That alluring, seductive voice makes your body tense. Her kiss threatens to undo you right then and there. She's riding you harder now, bouncing her ass in your lap. Driving the pleasure, the friction, harder and deeper.

"I have a confession to make," you speak with heavy breaths, trying to restrain yourself. "I think I could get used to this. Every day. If I could."

"It's a deal then. How about we celebrate by letting you blow a load inside me? Would you like that?" She nibbles at your earlobe, giggling as she sucks it between her lips. "How good would it feel to feel your hot, thick cum slide all the way up inside me?"

"So fucking good."

"And maybe tomorrow I'll keep you inside me and let you fill me all over again, and maybe I'll do the same the day after." There's a devilish smile across her face as she continues, "I'll ride you again and again and again..."

She keeps repeating it, the word stamped into your head over and over and each time she says it, she drives her hips down into you. Hard. The water ripples. Her ass slaps the tops of your thighs. It's a relentless rhythm, an insistent grind, a desperate desire for more.

"You're filthy," you tell her as you take a firm grip on her ass, her flesh filling your grasp and the muscles rippling through her skin as she moves.

"Maybe. Maybe I am, and maybe you like it." She laughs. A sound as sweet as honey.

"You know I do."

"Then show me how much. Fill me. Let it go."

That's all you need, just her words and the way she fucks you. She's the one doing all the work, and it's all the reason you need to relax and let the bliss consume you.

Hanni is kissing you when it hits. She swallows your groans of release, sucking them into her lungs. Her hands press down into your shoulders, nails sinking deep into your skin.

She doesn't stop moving, not once. Keeps grinding. She maintains the pace until you can't take any more. Until there's nothing left. Only then does she ease her motion, settling onto your lap, keeping you deep in her.

"That was amazing," she sighs.

"Fucking was."

[clairewritesfanfics]

Old Friends

Your Character Settings: AFAB, Jason Todd's childhood friend, civilian, famous author

Pairing: Jason Todd x Reader

“When the cops told me they’d be sending over a bodyguard, I didn’t expect them to send in a superhero,” you said, setting down the frog-shaped pitcher on the coffee table. 

You then took a seat directly facing Red Hood. Tall. Bulky. Vigilante. Alleged colleague of the Bats if you were going by the giant red bat logo across his chest. He looked almost comical on your thrifted loveseat, but he kept his knees together and folded his hands politely over them, as though that would help make him look smaller. 

“I was told you were getting death threats,” he said. 

“Authors get that kind of mail all the time.”

“But it got worse, right?”

You shrugged. “I can deal with that type of thing, I called the cops for a different matter.” You gestured at the envelope on the table.

Red Hood examined the contents. They were photos of a shattered library window, specifically, the Jason Todd Collection, which was a library that doubled as a shelter full of secondhand sofas and couches and two bathrooms. It’s been around for three months and completely owned and funded by you. 

“I’ve heard about this place,” he said. “It’s amazing.”

“Thanks, I’m glad you think so because I want help finding the son of a bitch that broke in and beat up the people sleeping inside.”

“I’m pretty sure the cops already dealt with that.”

“They said they were going to deal with it, but a few officers took some pictures and didn’t even bother interviewing the victims.”

“I understand your concern for the victims and I don’t mean to be rude, but I came here to ensure that you were safe. It’s not exactly a secret that you own the Ja…” he paused briefly before continuing, “that you own the shelter. An attack on the place could’ve been a way of getting your attention. The shelter was attacked after your latest book release, correct?”

Your growing temper simmered and you reclined on your armchair. He was right. “Okay, I see where you’re coming from.”

“Ma’am–”

“Don’t call me that, makes me feel old. Just call me by my first name.”

He hesitated before saying your name and, “your new book’s controversial.”

“Yeah. Not everyone’s happy that I brought back a character from the dead. He was a fan favorite so half of my readers were happy to see him again, but the rest think that resurrection cheapens the plot.”

“I think you foreshadowed Hector’s return pretty consistently.”

“You read my books?”

He tilted his red helmet and you could feel him smiling under that thing. “I like love stories.”

“That–Jason!”

His whole body stiffened, but then a giant, furry thing emerged from behind his loveseat and started sniffing his shoes and thighs. 

You sighed. “That’s Jason. He usually hides in my room when I have people over. C’mere, boy.”

Instead of running to your lap like he always did, your seventy-kilogram, stranger-fearing rescue folded its legs and laid its heavy head on Red Hood’s boot. 

“Huh. That’s never happened before.” You eyed the hero suspiciously. “Can you talk to animals or something?”

He chuckled. “No superpowers, I’m afraid, guess he just likes me.” He bent down and gently rubbed the dog’s head. 

Your throat rumbled lowly with mild jealousy. It took you a whole year before Jason would let you approach him without peeing.

Red Hood then asked, “So…Jason?”

“What?”

“Was that always his name?”

“No. According to the shelter that found him he never answered to a single name. When I got him, I refused to just call him dog or it, so I reinforced the name Jason.”

“...you named him after Jason Todd?”

“Yes, I did.” You crossed your arms. “Now, can we please discuss the reason why you’re here?”

“I didn’t mean to get on your nerves, I was just–”

“–curious, I know.”

“You must’ve really cared for this Todd.”

You thought of Jason, beaming as he handed you a cheeseburger, laughing at a joke you told him, and you smiled. “He was my best friend.”

Red Hood said nothing.

“He died a few years ago. He was the smartest person I knew and he… he didn’t even get to finish high school.” You exhaled and looked at your bookshelf. “I want the world to remember his name, even if it’s just from the dedication pages in my books and a small library.”

***

Red Hood made himself comfortable on the rooftop overlooking your apartment. You may not have cared about several death threats but he did, and he wasn’t about to leave you alone unguarded.

“So this is where you’ve been,” a sing-song voice interrupted his thoughts.

Jason clicked his tongue.

Nightwing wrapped his arm around his brother’s shoulder. “Heard everything from Babs. I can’t believe you approached her as Red Hood before you showed up as Jason.”

“Go away, dickhead.”

“Nuh-uh.”

“Tsk.”

“She’s really cute, are her books any good though? Never found the time to read, well, anything. But Babs said–”

Dick’s words merged with the city’s usual background noise as Jason continued to watch you behind your balcony door.

He watched as you knelt down to help Jason the Dog slip into a red hoodie before pressing a tender kiss between its eyes.

He then opened his phone and scanned your weekly schedule. You were too reckless. You left a lot of your things out in the open. What if a freak found your planner?

He made a mental note to install some cameras when you leave to get groceries tomorrow.

Disclaimer: The image of Red Hood used in this post does not belong to writerclaire. It's by Dexter Soy and was lifted from: https://www.reddit.com/r/DCcomics/comments/h0iavp/cover_from_red_hood_and_the_outlaws_20_by_dexter/

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[twicecorner]

Teacher's Assistant - Professor Im Nayeon

Twice Nayeon x Male Reader

3,422 words; smut

A/N: i’m back! long time no see lol life has been crazy but finally found a time to write. I had this in the drafts.. the long awaited next part of Teacher’s Assistant! hope u guys enjoy ;) lmk how you like it given that i haven’t written in a min LOL

*Ding ding ding* The alarm set on the stage buzzes as everyone's attention moves to it. Twelve-noon sharp. The assistants in the room spring to their feet and call out for the next group of participants. 

“Profesor Im Nayeon’s 12 o’clock please come forward!” One yells.

You hastily move from where you were and get through the small crowd to the assistant. You were quite literally shaking in your boots. You didn’t know what to wear, so you had on some business casual attire. Brown dress shoes, navy trousers, and a white button-up. You gulped down the last of your water from the small paper cup and crushed it before throwing it into the recycling bin on your way out.

“Please follow me.” The assistant said to you. It felt surreal, this didn’t have the same vibe as any other job or school interviews you’ve ever done before, you didn’t know what to expect. You didn’t even see the other students who were in the interviews before you left. The assistant walks you down the hallway and up the elevator to the 9th floor. You notice that in order to have access to that floor, a card key was used. He pressed his card against the reader and as it flashed green, he pressed the button. The button was even in the shape of a heart to emphasize that it was the Love Lab floor. 

He leads you through the floor, a pinkish-red hue of LED strips dimly lights the hallways. You see some questionable things in some of the lab windows and think to ask, but keep it to yourself as you can feel the tension rising. Finally, you get to her office. Plastered on the door in big letters it reads, “PROFESSOR IM NAYEON - Love Lab no. 1” The assistant knocks on the door and waits for a response. He tells you to wait outside before entering. He goes in and exchanges a few words with Prof. Im before returning to the hallway and letting you in. “Good luck. She’s a tough one” He whispers to you.

You walk in to see that the room is also dimly lit with similar led lights. Her office is tidy and she’s sitting behind her desk. There’s a couch and a few bookshelves lining the walls. “Take a seat.” She scans over the paper in front of her. “Participant 021. We don’t use names here quite yet during this phase in order to keep a sense of… anonymity if you will.” You nod in response as you take a seat on the couch. “Since I’m your first interview, I’ll explain to you how this all goes down. Prepare yourself. If at any point you would like to stop, say the word ‘candy’. This will be for you to use in all of the interviews. If you choose to stop, your application will be terminated immediately and you will still be sworn to secrecy no matter what. These interviews are much different than any other type out there. As you know, this is the Love Lab. Many different things consist within the word Love, these interviews, or tests will show if you are able to fulfill those things, those needs. Does that make sense?” She squints her eyes and lowers her glasses to her bridge while looking at you. You nod and you get the feeling you know what she means.

She continues, “Each professor is known for a different study on Love, meaning to say different tasks and such that you and the other participants will need to pass in order to work for us. I see you’ve signed your consent form and you have passed the needed medical, fitness, and mental wellness exams. Your application was one of the only standouts we saw this year. Congratulations. We have high hopes for you number 021.” You feel a great sense of relief and proudness as you look down and give yourself a small smile. “Right, let’s not waste any time. Let’s begin.” You nod once again and watch as she gets up from her seat. You notice her legs are a little shaky when she stands. You wonder what happened in this room before you got there. She slides a bookshelf to the side revealing a small hidden room. It’s lined floor-to-ceiling with red plush. In the middle is a single chair. Along the walls, there are shelves and hooks, something straight out of 50 Shades of Grey, toys, and accessories galore, things you didn’t know the use of. In the middle of the room was a red bed in the shape of a heart with the headboard lining the top curved parts of the heart. Damn, they really keep a grip on the whole love thing. You thought to yourself.

Prof. Im takes a seat on the edge of the bed. You walk in and some sort of spark of bravery overcomes you for a moment. “What would you like me to do, Professor Im?” You ask. 

“I want you to please me. Ruin me. Break me. You have 3 hours to do so. The last participant wasn’t so lucky, he barely made it through half of the time before I told him to get out of my sight. But you, I already like the look of you.” She scans you up and down before beginning to unbutton her shirt. 

“I can use anything in here?” You ask looking around the room, starting to walk along the walls and examine things more closely. 

“Yes, providing you know how to use it. I’m not asking you to kill me, I’m not an easy woman to please, you see. And I like things rough.” She winks and slightly nods towards the extensive wall of flogs, whips, paddles, and such. To be honest, you’ve only dabbled with BDSM mildly in your life, a few spanks here and there, maybe some tying up of the hands, but nothing like this. As your mind begins to drift into thinking of all of the possibilities, Prof. Im snaps you out of your haze. She stands up, now topless, and gestures for you to join her on the bed. You join her, sitting on the edge of the bed, and take your shirt off as well. She seems to admire you and your body for a moment before climbing on top of you.

She looks you in the eyes, hers are already filled with lust. Prof. Im crashes her lips onto yours. A steamy make-out session ensues, Quickly, your hands find themselves exploring her back and waist. Her hands knot up in your hair and you pull her harder against you, she gets the hint and starts grinding into you. It doesn’t take long for a large bulge to form in your pants. Your tongues fight for dominance and you moan at the skin-to-skin contact when your chests touch.

Remembering that this is still an interview and that you need to pass, you take your time, also noting the 3-hour time limit. You need to be able to keep the heat up for 3 hours, you can’t bore her or finish too soon. Somewhat meticulously, you plan out the next 3 hours, trying to focus on kissing her while noting your next moves. Your hands roam up and down her back before sliding your hand to the base of where her hairline meets the back of her neck, you yank her head back by her hair and move down to kiss and lick along the side of her neck. You earn a gasp and some light moans from Prof. Im. 

“Mmm yes… remember… no marks” she reminds you and you nibble and kiss her neck.

Feeling the pressure build in your crotch, you hook your hands around her ass and under her thighs and quickly lift her up before spinning and tossing her lightly onto the bed. She gasps at your strength and confidence. “Eager are we? Already starting off better than the last participant” Prof Im smirks and bites her finger. “Now what’re you going to do to me?”

You kneel on the bed in front of her and hastily take off your belt. A move you admit you’ve done before, you grab her hands as she sits up and use the belt as makeshift handcuffs. “I’ll use this for now. I don’t want to waste my time going to grab the cuffs” You say nodding towards a far wall. “Mmm I like this” She purrs. As you finish quickly tying her up you hold her two hands above her head while your other hand undoes the button and zipper of your trousers before pulling out your hard length.

“Oh fuck.. So big..” Prof Im moans seeing your hard cock in front of her face, she licks her lips.

“Take it.” You demand, holding your cock, you bring it to her mouth, still holding her hands above her head, you take them and hold them against your chest. She understands, clawing her fingers into your chest as her head moves to the tip of your length. She parts her lips and you push in fully. She said she likes it rough anyways. Her eyes widen in shock and you feel immense pleasure as her throat takes your length down its tight wet walls. After staying still for a moment, you start to pull out and begin thrusting in and out of her mouth. She moans as you fuck her mouth, spit starting to drip down the corners of her lips. You pull out your cock fully as she sticks her tongue out and circles your tip with it. “Good isn’t it?” You ask her.

“Mhm.. I’m excited for the next few hours number 021.” She looks up at you.

For the first hour the two of you fuck like animals, you indulge yourself first eating her out and tasting her sweet juices and fucking in 3 or 4 different positions on the bed. The first stage of your plan was going smoothly. You had yet to use the various toys on the wall, but you glance at the clock every now and then to gauge your time. You’d plan to use those during the last 2 hours. The second hour for rough playtime, then treating the last as the final push to edge both of you until max capacity. You wanted to drive her crazy. Now understanding how the rest of these trials were going to go, you had to work up your stamina. In 3 hours you could probably finish twice, but your goal was to make her finish as much as you could, at least once per hour.

As the first hour was nearing its end, you decided to grab a toy. As Prof. Im, now untied, hair disheveled and body sweaty, lays on the bed recovering from your fierce pounding you get up and look at the wall of dildos. You choose one similar to your size and walk back to her. “Finally.. As much as I loved your cock pounding me I was wondering when you’d start making use of the stuff in here.” She says breathing heavily. “Oh trust me, I’m just getting started.” you respond. 

You spread her legs and make your way between them. You bring the dildo to her mouth, “Suck it.” she does so making eye contact with you as she takes the toy down her throat before spitting on her hand and stroking the toy. You smile and take it down between her leg, moving it between her wet lower lips. She moans at the sight. You shove it into her and start pumping it before bringing your head down to eat her out at the same time. “Oh FUCK!” she moans, having 2 of the most pleasurable feelings at once. “Mmm fuck that feels so good” 

Almost on instinct, she grabs her legs and holds them up and apart for you, wanting more. You bring your other hand up and grab onto her chest, playing with her nipple and massaging her tit. You simultaneously bring her pleasure and she starts getting close to the edge. “D-don’t stop… fuck yes oh my god” she moans, her hips now shaking and moving on their own accord to get more. Your spit mixed with her own juices make the toy easy to fuck her with and your mouth moves furiously on her clit. You can feel her start to tighten and push the toy, signalling her orgasm. You ramp it up thrusting harder and faster, sucking more on her clit and clawing at her tits. “I-I’m gonna c-cum!!” She yells out. You take your mouth off her for a moment, “Cum for me Professor Im… Cum all over me” One of her hands goes to grip your hair and push you back to her clit and holds you there before she yells out and her body spasms, her hole pushes the toy out and you continue to lick and suck her pussy as her juices flow. 

You pull away once she releases your head. “How was that?” You ask smirking at your work, the sheets now even wetter, her chest heaving for air and your cock leaking precum. “Holy shit…” She says between breaths, “I might just already pass you.” You smile as you hear that. “We didn’t even get to use all these fun toys” You tease back, “And I haven’t even finished yet” You say looking down your cock, now pulsing with need to finish. “Usually I’m not this worn out so fast, but something about you…” She says looking at you up and down. “I’ll give you the next 30 minutes to make us both finish. If you do so, you pass.” she smirks.

“Challenge accepted.” You say catching your breath and wiping the sweat from your brow. “Have you done anal before Prof Im?” You ask shyly, not sure if it’s appropriate to ask. “Mmm.. once, but it took me a little bit to like it… I haven’t tried since… of course the last time I did it, he wasn’t as good as you.” You knew the sure fire way to make you both finish was her ass. The pristine tight starfish coupled with her dripping pussy.

You flip her onto her stomach and turn her around, so she’s facing the mirror on the opposite wall. You bring her up onto all fours before bending down to spread her cheeks and expose her tightest hole. You lick from her clit up to her starfish and dip your tongue in, she moans at the contact and she starts to loosen up. You dip from her ass into her pussy and back, stimulating both holes. You pull back and slide your index finger into her ass to allow her to adjust and she easily takes it in. You give her a few pumps before going back to licking and wetting it. You go back and forth like this for a few minutes until she's prepped. To get your length wet, you push it into her pussy and give her a few good strokes, she moans with every pass and clenches her walls onto it. “God, your cock feels so good in my pussy.” She moans. “Just wait until it fills your ass” You moan in return.

You do a few more thrusts into her pussy before your length is coated in her juices. You spit onto her tight hole one more time before you press your tip against it, “You ready? Let me know if you want me to stop” You tell her before you slowly ease your way in. “OH! Fuck oh my god yes.. Oh fuck its so full…” she moans out your length only half way in. You push more till your cock is sheathed in her ass, the whole process filled the room with a cacophony of her moans and yelps of pleasure at being completely filled. “It’s so fucking tight… it feels so good Professor Im” 

‘“Oh for fucks sake.. Fuck me already and call me Nayeon” she demands. Your face fills with shock at this. But you can’t process it till later, right now you have a job to do. You start to thrust into her ass slowly, feeling her walls squeeze against your length already bringing you closer to the edge. You hold back and start to thrust faster, gripping into her hips. “Fuck Nayeon your ass feels so fucking good…” You moan, thrusting harder and faster into her, your balls slapping against her still wet pussy. Suddenly an idea pops into your head. You reach for the dildo on the bed next to you, “Should we try something new Nayeon?” You ask. “Mmm shit I don’t care I just need you to fuck me” She desperately says looking back at you through the mirror. You pull out of her ass and take the toy and slip it into her pussy, you hold it there with your hand and push your cock back into her ass. “OH FUCK” She yells out, now feeling truly filled. The pressure from the toy makes her ass even tighter and you moan out too.

You resume fucking her ass, now your balls slapping the base of the toy allowing it to slip in and out of her pussy at the same pace as you. “Oh- oh my god fuck… oh shit” Nayeon’s a mess in ecstacy. She’s never felt so much pleasure and so full before. You slap her ass then grab onto the back of her head and bring it up to look at the two of you in the mirror. “Cum with me Nayeon. Squirt all over me while I cum in your ass” You growl. She watches as you fuck her harder, her pussy now even wetter and pulsing harder squeezes the toy out and you bring a hand down to furiously rub at her clit. She squeezes her ass even harder on your cock. “I-I’m gonna cum Nayeon.. Fuck I’m gonna fill your ass…” You moan loudly, fucking her even harder and faster, your length moving in and out of her gripping hole. 

“I-im cumming again!!” Nayeon moans, she falls forward as her body convulses in orgasmic pleasure and she squirts all over your balls and thighs, as her body tightens like an anaconda around your length until you reach your limit. You explode ropes of hot semen into her deepest parts, you grunt as you shallowly thrust into her, painting her walls. You both come down from your extreme orgasms and you pull out, you watch as she pushes your cum from her ass, you bring a finger to it and run it from her ass to her pussy, smearing your cum all over holes and clit.

“Oh my god..” Nayeon collapses onto the bed and you lay down next to her, your warm sweaty bodies tangled together. “You… pass” She says before her eyes close. You hold her in your arms as you too feel your eyes get heavier. You wake up to a jolt a bit later to Nayeon stirring awake, “Good morning” You say jokingly. “Mmm I haven’t passed out like that from a session in a long time” She says. “I think you’ll do just fine throughout these trials. I’ll be sure to let the other professors know.”

“Thank you.” you say getting up and grabbing a bottle of water while starting to get dressed. “So what next?” You ask as she does the same. “I see you have Professor Minatozaki next… You’ll have the session with her at 7pm so you have some time to clean up and rest before that. I suggest you rest up for her, I don’t think she’ll let up as easy as I did for you. Come back around 6:45 to check in. If you get past her, you’ll have Professor Myoi tomorrow and Professor Park the day after. Good luck number 021. I sure hope you make it through. I would like to see you again” Nayeon smirks before she pulls you in for another kiss and grabs at your now clothed crotch.

You exit the room and an assistant brings you out, handing you a reminder slip to come back at 6:45 and stamps your card “passed” next to Professor Im’s name. Now that you know what these trials are, you head back to your room to freshen up and get ready for Professor Minatozaki Sana.

[crushpunky]

drew and actress!reader test how well they know each other

masterlist | actress!reader masterlist

this is based off the gq couples interviews. this one was a bit more difficult to write since there wasn't anything to go off of, but hopefully y'all enjoy it :)

Y/n sat in her chair, adjusting her hair to fall smoothly around her face with a calming, deep breath. Drew took his seat opposite her, smiling widely as a production assistant handed each of them a stack of cards. He wore an oversized knitted cardigan over a crisp white t-shirt paired with a pair of distressed jeans, his sharp features and messily styled hair tying the look together in a way that made y/n swoon.

“You ready?” Drew asked, raising his eyebrows slightly. With both of them preparing for the release of the newest season of Outer Banks as well as their respective upcoming projects, their agents suggested they do an interview together. Overjoyed at the offer, the two of them emphatically agreed to sit down with GQ for their Couples Quiz. It wasn’t the first time they had done interviews together, usually joined by the rest of the OBX cast, but this was the first time it had only been the two of them explicitly opening up and talking about their relationship.

“Of course,” Y/n returned his grin, crossing her legs as she glanced over towards the cameras. Since they went public with their relationship, they had never been especially secretive about it, talking about each other easily in passing as their partner or significant other. However, it was a bit nerve racking to be so open and talk so openly about the intricacies of their relationship.

“Alright, y/n you are clear to begin with the introduction…” one of the camera operators focused the lens on y/n, “now.”

“Hello, I am y/n y/ln and this is…” y/n gestured over to Drew, whose gaze still remained on her before he tore his eyes away and looked into the camera lens. 

“Drew Starkey.” Drew said quickly, causing y/n to laugh and a smirk to creep upon Drew’s lips.

“And today we will be taking GQ’s Couples Quiz.” Y/n finished before turning to Drew once more. With a dramatic flare, Drew shuffled his cards and cleared his throat.

“First up, how many siblings do I have?” Drew said with a quirk of his brow.

“Oh that one’s easy,” y/n said, wiping a faux bead of sweat off her forehead, “you are the oldest of four. You have two sisters and a brother.”

“That is true, that is true.” Drew grinned before tossing the card behind his chair.

“Alright, my turn,” y/n straightened in her chair, “what was my first job?”

“Why a barista of course,” Drew said, “and an excellent one at that. This girl makes a fucking killer iced latte—”

“Joseph!” Y/n reddened at his swearing, Drew immediately clamping a hand over his mouth as the two of them laughed.

“Sorry GQ,” Drew chuckled, “but it’s true. She makes a very good iced latte.”

“But yes, you are correct. My first job was in a coffee shop.” Y/n said, resting the cards back in her lap.

“Next,” Drew began, “what was our first date? Ooh that’s kind of a hard one.”

Y/n nodded to herself, thinking back towards the beginning of their relationship. It was by no means a traditional beginning, the two of them already living with each other between seasons of OBX when COVID hit. It had been only a few months into quarantine when they could no longer deny the feelings they had for each other, eventually leading them to finally start dating after what felt like lifetimes of pining over each other.

“Yeah, it is,” y/n chewed on her bottom lip in thought, “I mean we were already living with each other when we started dating, so I think we might’ve skipped that step.”

Drew chuckled, “yeah I think you’re right. But I think we’ve made up for our lost dates, you think?”

“Oh yeah, five years of living with this one I think we’ve made up for it.” Y/n smiled, thinking back to all the nights they’d spent together, whether sitting on the couch watching a movie, out at a fancy restaurant, or tangled in the sheets in their shared home. Continuing on, y/n looked at the next card.

“Drew if you don’t get this one we might have a problem,” y/n said, to which Drew’s eyes widened as he leaned in intently.

“What is my favorite Taylor Swift song?” Y/n peered over the card, a wide grin creeping on her cheeks as she watched Drew let out an exhale of relief.

“I definitely know this one: Getaway Car,” Drew said with a shrug. Y/n turned to the camera, flashing a smile and tossing the note card back. Drew did a fist pump before relaxing back into his seat.

“He knows me so well,” Y/n said. “What’s your favorite Taylor song, Drewseph?”

“Ooh, that’s a good question…” Drew rubbed his fingers along his jaw in contemplation. “I think I’m going to say Daylight because that was what we played at our wedding.”

Y/n rolled her eyes in faux annoyance at Drew’s overly sentimental but oh-so-very-Drew answer before letting out a giggle. Drew playfully rolled his eyes in return, a wide smile still plastered across his face.

“Alright, alright, who is my favorite character in Outer Banks?” Drew asked, tapping the queue cards against his chin as he waited for y/n to respond.

“I know they probably wanted this to be some cute answer and say me, but it’s really not.” Y/n said, causing the crew behind the cameras to giggle.

“Yeaaahhh it’s not.” Drew shook his head with a laugh only causing the crew’s giggles to intensify.

“It’s Barry, Nick Cirillo. The true love of his life.” Y/n said, using her finger to mime a tear falling down her cheek with an exaggerated frown.

“No, don’t say that.” Drew tossed the card at her with a shake of his head. “Yes, Barry is my favorite character, but the love of my life is most definitely sitting right here in front of you folks.”

“Aww, Starkey you sap.” Y/n said, blowing Drew a quick kiss before grabbing another question card.

“Alright, back to the questions,” y/n began. “When did we first meet?”

Drew’s face immediately lit up at the memory, “oh I remember it very clearly.”

“Do you now?” Y/n chuckled, cocking her head as she listened to Drew’s words.

“Yes, it was right after I had gotten a call back for Outer Banks,” Drew said. “They invited me in for a chemistry read and I just remember coming in and seeing this… just, absolutely beautiful girl sitting with the directors and my stomach dropped. Then she came over to me and introduced herself and I thought I was going to pass out. I was so nervous, but I tried my best to play it cool and… yeah. Here we are.”

“There is no way that is true!” Y/n teased, laughing at Drew’s exaggerated gestures as he told his story. She certainly remembered the day fondly, but she didn’t detect any of Drew’s nervousness… Maybe because she herself was so overcome with nerves the second she saw him walk through the door it didn’t even occur to her that someone who looked like that could possibly feel the same way about her.

“It is!” Drew said, raising his hands in surrender. “I thought I was totally going to bomb the audition but once the camera started rolling everything just clicked… and I’ve been totally obsessed ever since.”

Y/n felt her cheeks warm up, moving to cover her face with one of the question cards.

“Ok, here is the final question, baby,” Drew continued, a mischievous grin on his lips as he watched y/n’s flustered expression.

“Oh no!” Y/n said, smoothing her hair down and taking a deep breath to calm the flutters in her stomach. Despite being together for nearly five years, and even getting married, Drew still managed to always make her weak in the knees and remind her just why she loved him so much.

“Where is my favorite place on Earth?” Drew asked.

“Oh, I think I know this one,” y/n said with a smile. “Charleston, South Carolina.”

“Yep. Best place, best people… it’s truly our home.” Drew grinned, putting the card down and resting his chin in his hand as he stared at y/n lovingly. Catching his gaze, y/n stood up before walking over to him, the two of them embracing each other as the cameras continued to roll. Once they pulled apart, Drew rose to his feet, the two of them turning towards the camera.

“Thank you, GQ!” Y/n waved, Drew placing a kiss to the top of her head before waving along, the two of them smiling ear to ear and practically radiating with a love that continued to grow stronger every day.

[hannibals-favourite-meal]

Can you do a Clark Kent, with a mate? Maybe she gets jealous of Lois but doesn’t know why; an to get over him she tries to go out with another guy but Clark is like no. Your mine.

.⋆｡Office Crushes｡⋆.

Alpha!Clark Kent x omega!plus size reader

Little bit of Bruce Wayne x plus size reader

Your best friend has an office crush that seems to be becoming something more, maybe you should get your own office romance but not because you’re jealous- obviously

Warnings: a/b/o, jealousy, mutual pining, idiots in love, little bit of angst, protective!clark, fluff

WC: 3.1k

Minors DNI

Library- @hannibals-favourite-meal-library

It was quite common for any office to have its workers develop a sort of infatuation with each other. A confined space where you spend upwards of 40 hours a week with the same people, feelings are destined to arise, especially when it’s such a large mixture of alphas, betas and omegas. Hormones tend to go wild.

You were proud that you had never developed an office crush, knowing how disastrous it could be if the relationship ended, but you doubted your best friend could say the same. Clark had a big heart that he always wore on his sleeve and tended to attract a lot of romantic interest from practically everyone in the office. And apparently, Lois Lane was the lucky one who finally caught his eye.

A strange churning in your stomach began as you looked over the wall of your cubicle and spotted Clark leaning on the small kitchen counter, head thrown back in laughter as Lois chuckled over her now full cup of coffee. You know you should have seen it from a mile away- they were constantly paired up for articles, their chemistry was unmatched and they were by far the most attractive people in the office. You had even teased Clark on occasion for how often he met up with her after hours for some new lead, calling them dates.

Evidently, you were right. And for some reason, it was really bothering you. You felt physical disgust as Clark bent down to whisper something into the smaller omega’s ear and down right nausea as she placed a hand onto his broad chest to steady herself.

You swallowed down the bitter emotions and forced yourself to return to editing your article though a sour taste remained on your tongue. Maybe it was finally time to get your own office crush and the perfect opportunity had just landed in your inbox.

‘Bruce Wayne Interview- I trust you’ll get this done professionally’. You bit your lip at the offer, not only would an interview with Gotham’s golden boy boost your career, but whenever you had encountered the alpha before, he had always asked you out and you had always brushed him off. It was a win-win for you, and maybe it would stop the inexplicable rage you felt when you looked up and saw the goofy grin on Clark’s face as he sat back down at his desk.

Your nose wrinkled as you caught Lois’s scent clinging to him. Your fingers flew across the keyboard as you quickly sent a response back to your boss, accepting the offer. 

You just needed a distraction and then everything would go back to normal.

——————

The tension in the conference room at the top of Wayne Enterprise was so thick you swore you could cut it with a butter knife. You cleared your throat and tugged down your pencil skirt, over-aware of just how high it sat on your plump thighs as you reclined in one of the many expensive seats in the room. 

Bruce’s eyes flicked down to where your hands were curled into the material of the skirt and then back to your eyes but not before stopping very briefly at your lips. “Mr Wayne-“ You began again, glancing at your notepad. The small talk had gone well as did the customary chit chat about any new scandal he happened to have instigated and the photos of the both of you for the article.

“Bruce please, I think we’re far beyond that now.” He winked and you swore that his tone held a bit of a teasing purr. Your stomach flipped at the blatant attention from the alpha but it quickly dropped as yet another wave of thick, bitter scent filled the room making you cringe away from the other man standing to the side.

Through a series of several unfortunate events, your usual photographer had fallen ill and his stand-in got hired from right under the company and left so the only person that even had the slightest bit of talent with a camera in the office was forced to come with you today for shots of the billionaire. And in the worst stroke of luck, that person happened to be the very man that ‘inspired’ you to take the job in the first place.

Clark shifted on his feet and you barely repressed an eye roll. He had been very vocal in his disapproval of the whole thing given how often the mogul had put the moves on you but none of his arguments had done anything to deter you, instead they only fuelled the fire.

Bruce’s jaw clenched and you watched in fascination as the muscles beneath his skin moved, although they were not nearly as impressive as Clark’s (you would never admit that out loud). “Well Bruce,” He beamed at you, “Wayne Enterprises has just introduced a new product line that promises to ease the severe heats often experienced by omegas, my question for you is, what about this product is so different from all others on the market that promise the same things yet all others have failed?”

The alpha leaned back in his seat, his muscular thighs spreading slightly, instantly drawing your gaze to the thick bulge that was perfectly hugged by the material of his pants. Your eyes immediately flicked back up to him but given the smirk on his lips, Bruce knew exactly what he was doing. 

“I’m actually quite proud of my team for this, they’ve worked tirelessly on development for years and I believe that it really shows. While other products are usually prescribed by doctors in the forms of ointments and perfumes that mimic the scent of an alpha, which almost never work by the way, we have gone in a totally new direction. Instead, omegas can buy these pouches at any pharmacy and when heated, they give off the scent of a pup.” Bruce gestured to the small bags that were barely the size of your palm that sat on the table next to him. They gave the appearance of a miniature version of a microwavable heat pack but he was right, if you concentrated hard enough, you could smell the mixture of milk and flowers that all babies had.

“It is common knowledge that the presence of pups actually help to lessen the effects of a heat whereas the scent of an alpha is far more complex to manufacture and can actually make an omega’s heat worse if they don’t have any other-“ he paused then, his smirk growing as the room seemed to grow smaller, “-tools to help them through it.” You barely suppressed a squeak and quickly ducked your head as if you were checking your notes once more.

You gathered yourself for a moment then spoke again, missing the way that Clark was glaring at the other alpha over your shoulder. “And how affordable are these products?”

“Wayne Enterprises are donating 2 million to women’s shelters throughout Gotham and we plan to sell them for less than $10.” As if anticipating your next question, Bruce licked his lips and continued. “While it is not feasible to gain a profit from such a low price, I would rather give them away to the people that need it but I do have a board that I have to listen to… sometimes.” He winked at you.

Heat crawled up your neck and settled onto your full cheeks. You squeezed your thighs together though you weren’t quite sure if it was because you were attempting to feign arousal or keep him from looking up your skirt. You laid a hand onto your notebook, shutting off your recorder, as you leaned forwards and offered him your other one. “Thank you for being so open to this interview, you have been a hard man to pin down.”

You could feel the way Clark’s body seized as Bruce’s smirk grew and his eyes twinkled deviously. “If it’s by you miss Y/L/N, I would gladly be pinned down any time.” He shook your hand with a firm grip, letting the tips of his fingers brush against your wrist. “For an interview that is.”

He rose to his feet and politely helped you to yours, steadying you with a hand on your waist as you wobbled on your heels. Once he was sure that you were steady, he ducked down and grabbed one of the unopened boxes of Heat Helpers (quite the cheesy name in your opinion) and gave it to you, along with a small piece of cardstock. “Why don’t you take this, a thank you for a great conversation.”

You flipped over the piece of paper to reveal a phone number scrawled on in pen. You gave him a questioning look to which he chuckled. “My number, if you ever want to have a one-on-one with me, with or without the tape recorder.” 

You swallowed thickly and stuttered out some kind of polite response before Clark ushered you out of the room, muttering under his breath about being in a time crunch. You were barely able to catch one last, “Anytime miss Y/L/N” before the heavy door slammed shut and you were quite literally pushed into the awaiting elevator by your friend.

As soon as the doors were shut, you were on him. “What was that all about?” You crossed your arms over your chest and gave him a scrutinising look. Clark refused to make eye contact with you, instead he stared at the elevator doors like he was willing them to open.

“He was flirting with you.” You rolled your eyes and looked away from the tall alpha. “And you let him.”

“So what? He’s attractive and available, as am I. It was only natural.” Clark’s shoulders tensed, his grip on his camera tightening until his knuckles turned white. The confined space was now filled with a bitter scent that made your stomach drop and your omega howl in displeasure.

“Why are you so concerned about this, Clark?”

The elevator doors opened with a ping and he quickly walked out. “It’s nothing.” He said and you knew you weren’t going to get anything else out of him until he decided he was done throwing a tantrum.

——————

“So have you called him?” Lois was leaning against the bar next to you, her drink half empty but the flush on her cheeks told you that it wasn’t the first one of the night. 

“Called who?” She rolled her eyes like it was obvious.

“Bruce Wayne! He obviously wants you too, I saw the photos Clark took. He’s fucking—what’s the word— enamoured!” You scoff behind your tumbler of whiskey which you had been nursing since Perry gave it to you an hour ago. The whole office had gathered at the bar down the road for an end-of-workweek drink and against your better judgement, you had decided to join.

Clark had been convinced into joining a game of pool, leaving you without anyone to talk to but it’s not like he would anyway. For some stupid reason, the alpha had been giving you the silent treatment for days and it was really starting to piss you off. You regarded Lois with a look but she was far too tipsy to get it.

“He was just flirting, he does it with everybody.” You dismissed it but she scoffed.

“Then why did he ask Perry for your personal number?” Your head snapped up, your eyes wide. “Clark didn’t tell you?” Evidently, your wide open mouth and lack of a verbal response told her everything she needed to know. Suddenly, Lois was very sober, a serious expression on her face.

“We were in a meeting with Perry the day after the interview and Wayne just strolled in like he fucking owned the place. He said how great you were and that he was hoping to get your number for a follow-up interview sometime soon. Clark said he would handle it, I assumed that he would have talked to you.” Her gaze travelled over to said man. “Shit I guess he didn’t.”

You slammed back the rest of your drink and without any sort of conscious thought, stormed over to the group of men huddled around the pool table. “Where the fuck do you get off Kent?” You snarled. Immediately all of the men seemed to find their phones incredibly interesting.

“I’m sorry?” He asked in that way too polite way he did that really meant ‘what the fuck is the matter with you’ but you were having none of it.

“Why didn’t you tell me Bruce asked for my number?” 

“There’s a lot of Bruces in the world, you’ll have to be more specific.” He dismissed.

Anger flared in your gut. “You know exactly what I’m fucking talking about.” You snarled, making Clark stand up straight and meet your eyes. In the dim light of the bar, his expression was far darker than you had ever seen before as aggravation rolled off of his powerful body in waves. “You had no right to keep something like that from me!”

“I had every right! He was just going to use you and then never talk to you again! I was protecting you!” 

“I didn’t ask you to!” The bar went completely silent as Clark visibly flinched but you were far too upset to care. “You know what, I’m done.” You raised your hands in surrender as you turned and pushed through the stunned crowd, your anger slowly trickling away into sadness.

The night air was like a punch in the gut but it also eased the tenseness in your shoulders. Taking a deep breath, you willed yourself not to cry. It wasn’t like you were in love with Bruce, but even if you were, Clark’s blatant disapproval of him and his distrust in your decisions made you feel incredibly small. And it was breaking your heart.

He was your best friend, he was supposed to be supportive if not a little teasing about your choice in men. He was supposed to console you when things went wrong, not say ‘I told you so’. Why did he get to control your love life while you could only sit back and watch him fall in love with someone else?

Your feet carried you further and further from the bar as the urge to sob was quickly becoming overwhelming. “Y/N!” You turned in time to see Clark throw open the door, the light from inside spilling out onto the street as he endeavoured to chase you.

“Leave me alone!” You cried or at least tried to, but then suddenly, the air was knocked from your lungs and you were looking up at the stars.

The shrill screech of a speeding car came from somewhere on your left as bright headlights illuminated the mass of a man above you before the sound was in the distance and darkness folded over you both. His weight kept you pinned to the slightly damp grass and you had the vague thought that you must be in a park of some kind, even though just a second ago you were standing on a sidewalk- or was it the street?

“Are you okay?” That was Clark’s voice but he had been so far away from you. “Omega?” He sounded distressed and for the life of you, you couldn’t figure out why.

“Say something!” His huge hands were planted by your head and it was only when one of them cupped your cheek did you find your voice again.

“Clark?” His whole body sagged with relief and he let his forehead rest against yours.

“Thank god. I thought I didn’t get to you in time. The car came out of nowhere and you were so close.” You turned your head away from him, your eyes focusing on the bar… that was across the street… a block away. The glint of something in the grass catches your attention, Clark’s glasses. 

He looked so different without them and all your confused mind could think was just how blue his eyes were when they were unobscured by the glass. 

His button up shirt which was normally so perfectly done up was unbuttoned, exposing the tight material of something navy beneath. “What?” But you couldn’t get out anymore, not when he shifted his weight, exposing even more of what was covered by his shirt and you were stunned into silence.

The red ’S’ practically glowed as realisation dawned into you. His brows scrunched in confusion, following your gaze. “I- I can explain.” Your head spun as he yanked you to your feet, though his hands never left your skin like he needed the reassurance that you were still there.

“I was going to tell you but then I realised how much danger it would put you in and if you were hurt in any way because of me, I couldn’t even stand the thought. And then we had known each other for months and Lois said you would feel betrayed so I kept it a secret-“ You placed an open palm onto his chest, stopping him in his tracks. His mouth snapped shut with a click.

“Is this why you were acting so weird about Bruce? You thought he would hurt me because of you?” Your voice wobbled with emotions as your nails dug into his warm peck. 

Clark’s growl was shocking in its intensity. The vibrations shot up your arm as the ground shook beneath your feet with its power. “No, he would never even dare to fucking touch you. He knows who you belong to.” Your heart skipped a beat, this possessiveness was nothing you had ever seen from the soft-spoken reporter before. You knew that you should find it disgusting considering how he had been treating you but instead your veins filled with warmth.

“And who is it that I belong to? There’s no claiming mark on my neck.” His grip on your hips tightened which should have been a warning but the anger was quickly returning now that the foggy haze of danger had passed. “If I can remember correctly, you’ve been courting Lois, not me.”

“I’ve been asking her for advice on how to ask you out!” He said, exasperated. “I just couldn't find the perfect time to do it.”

“You’re an idiot.” You retorted before grabbing his black curls in a tight grip and yanking his mouth to yours. His body tensed but then quickly melted into you, groaning against your lips. 

Maybe you did have an office crush but it’s not like you’d actually admit it.

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The Fastest Man Off Track

Max Verstappen x Wife!Reader

Summary... A rare day in the life of the four-time world champion, through the lens of family, legacy, and the quiet moments that matter most.

A/N: Enjoy reading! Have a beautiful day! Requests are open. If you like it please like, comment, and share. Happy reading you beautiful soul :)

----------------------------------

Max Verstappen didn’t care much for interviews.

He didn’t enjoy talking about himself, and he definitely didn’t enjoy the attention that came with being a four-time world champion. The world saw him as a machine — controlled, confident, untouchable behind the wheel. But outside of racing, he liked to be left alone. Preferably barefoot, in his garage, or at the kitchen table with you and Isa.

So when Vogue Netherlands requested a quiet feature — not about the wins, not about the titles, but about Max as a man — it took some convincing.

“They just want a ‘day in the life,’” you told him over coffee. “No red carpets. No stylists. Just… you.”

Max lifted a brow. “Why would anyone care about that?”

“Because they’ve seen Max Verstappen the racer,” you said softly, “but not Max Verstappen the dad. The collector. The man who drives Isa to preschool in a twenty-year-old Land Rover because ‘it has character.’”

He grunted.

“Max. They said they want to talk about your cars.”

That made him pause.

“They want to hear the stories behind them. What they meant. Not the specs — the memories.”

He still didn’t agree right away. But later that night, you caught him standing in the garage in his hoodie and socks, hands in his pockets, staring at the McLaren F1 like it had something to say back.

The team arrived mid-morning. Just three people — respectful, soft-spoken, Dutch. One camera. One microphone. No chaos.

They weren’t here for a spectacle.

Just a story.

You stayed inside with Isa while Max walked the garage floor with the crew, talking them through his collection. He didn’t brag. He wasn’t that kind of man. But when he pointed to certain cars, his voice changed — softer, quieter, like the memories were still warm.

“That one,” he said, nodding to a black 2002 Ferrari Enzo, “was the first car I ever bought just for myself. Not because it was rare or fast. Just because I loved how it looked. I didn’t even test drive it.”

He moved on. A silver Jaguar XJ220. A retired Red Bull RB16B, mounted on its own turntable. A Porsche GT3 RS with pink crayon stitching — your choice, back when he asked which color combo he should pick.

But it was the McLaren that made him stop.

“It never really felt like mine,” he said, rubbing the back of his neck.

The camera tilted.

“I bought it years ago. A dream car. Put it in the garage and thought, ‘Yeah. This is the one.’ But I never drove it. Never touched it.”

“Why not?” the interviewer asked.

Max smiled slightly. “Didn’t know then. But I do now.”

He turned toward the side door.

“It was waiting for her.”

Isa was already dressed — pink overalls and two pigtails that barely stayed in place. She clutched her little Verstappen cap in one hand and her bunny in the other.

“She’s ready,” you said with a grin. “She asked me to put on ‘garage shoes.’ I think she meant sneakers.”

When Max returned, Isa ran to him instantly, arms out, bunny swinging.

“You said I could show them my car!”

“And I keep my promises, don’t I?” he replied, scooping her up with ease. “Come on then, let’s go give them a tour.”

He carried her into the garage like a secret he was finally ready to share.

“This is the McLaren F1,” Max announced proudly, gesturing to the sapphire blue car with wide butterfly doors. “But Isa calls it…”

“My car!” she interrupted with a big grin, bunny now sitting where a racing helmet should be.

“Why is it hers?” the interviewer asked gently, camera still rolling.

Max looked at Isa.

“She was two and a half,” he said, “wandered in here one morning while I was working. Climbed straight into the driver’s seat. Said ‘this is my baby car.’ And I realized… it was.”

He chuckled softly.

“It didn’t feel like anything until she touched it. Now I can’t imagine it belonging to anyone else.”

The rest of the shoot unfolded naturally. Isa held the mic at one point. Max helped her wipe a pretend smudge off the Ferrari. You brought out lemon cake for the crew, and Isa insisted on giving everyone one “tiny piece” because that’s what you told her was polite.

And when the interviewer asked Max if he ever felt like his priorities had shifted, his answer was so simple, so him, it stopped the room.

“They haven’t shifted. They’ve landed.”

The article never mentioned Isa’s name. No photos of her were published. Just one shot: a wide photo of Max standing beside the McLaren, and in the background, barely in frame, a little girl in pink overalls placing a stuffed bunny on the passenger seat.

The caption read: “The fastest man alive, and the car that finally made him slow down.”

That night, after the team left and Isa fell asleep with her bunny tucked under her chin, Max sat on the edge of your shared bed, quietly rubbing at the crease between his brows.

“You alright?” you asked, brushing a hand over his shoulders.

“I let them see too much?”

You shook your head. “You let them see the best parts.”

He smiled, but it was small.

“You’re the best part,” you said, curling into him. “But she’s the fastest.”

Max chuckled, low and deep. “Definitely gets that from me.”

And you kissed him once, then again — and again — until his laugh faded into something softer.

Slower.

Right where he liked to be.