#his books just.... mess with my head | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

cumironi · 2 months ago

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THE CLOWN HAS BEEN FOUND s. gojo

★ sum. the baggy clothes, the glasses, the book, the brain— sum : a nerd, that’s what you are. a center of attention, but not because of how beautiful and popular and everyone wants to date you— no, but because you are a loser. and the popular boys have a bet who’s get to sleep with you first and pop the cherry.

warning. college au, ōral ( m & f receiving ), fingēring, dirty talk, hair-pulling, bit name-calling, petnames, praise, cherry pop mentioned, unprotected sēx.

the four of them—geto, gojo, toji, and sukuna—sat sprawled out under the big willow tree on campus, a prime spot they’d claimed as their own. the tree’s branches hung low, providing shade from the afternoon sun, and it seemed to be the perfect place for them to lounge around, their laughter and conversation echoing through the quiet space. they were the popular boys on campus, infamous for their looks, athleticism, and wealth, and equally notorious for their cocky, careless attitudes—a magnetic combination that somehow made them both admired and hated.

they were deep in some joke, laughing obnoxiously, when toji’s gaze drifted, his laughter fading as his eyes settled on something—or rather, someone—in the distance. his smirk widened as he cocked his chin in your direction, his eyes glinting with mischief.

“look at her,” toji muttered, loud enough for the others to hear. the way he said it held a certain bite, like he’d just stumbled upon something amusing.

the other three followed his gaze, their eyes landing on you, sitting off to the side with a thick textbook open in your lap. you were tucked into yourself, shoulders hunched slightly, completely absorbed in whatever you were reading. your clothes were baggy, drowning your frame in layers that did little to give away any shape. the oversized hoodie practically swallowed you, sleeves pulled down almost to your fingertips. your glasses kept sliding down your nose, and every now and then, you’d push them back up absently, clearly too lost in your book to notice much else.

“oh, the classic nerd look,” sukuna sneered, his eyes narrowing as he looked you over, a smirk tugging at the corner of his mouth. “cute,” he added mockingly, though there was a glint in his eyes that suggested he found the whole thing entertaining.

gojo let out a low snort, shaking his head as he took a long drag from his cigarette, smoke curling around him in lazy spirals. he leaned forward, one arm bracing against the grass. his eyes still on you, but there was a mocking amusement dancing in them now. he exhaled slowly, a smirk pulling at his lips as he glanced over at sukuna, his voice dripping with sarcasm.

“what’s this, sukuna? into the nerdy type now?” he taunted, tilting his head as he raised an eyebrow. his tone was layered with mockery, his smirk widening as if the very idea was too ridiculous to believe. “thought you had a thing for a girl with big tits.”

sukuna rolled his eyes, but his smirk didn’t waver. “naaah, not my type,” he shot back, his gaze flicking back to you briefly before he shrugged. “just saying she’s… amusing. probably jumps if someone even looks at her.”

“oh, definitely,” geto chimed in with a chuckle, folding his arms as he looked you over with a lazy curiosity. “bet she’s terrified of guys like us.”

toji laughed, shaking his head as he looked back at the others. “please, she’d probably faint if you even said hi.” they all shared a laugh, a mixture of arrogance and amusement, reveling in the thought. to them, you were just another quiet, unassuming girl in a sea of faces, someone they could easily overlook—or mess with, if the mood struck.

gojo snickered. “hell, she probably doesn’t even know we exist,” he taunted, his smirk growing ever more patronizing as he puffed out another plume of smoke. “probably spends her nights in her room, surrounded by books and stuffed animals. bet she’s never even been to a party.”

geto chuckled, leaning back with a mocking smile. “oh please, she’s probably never even been kissed.”

toji smirked, adding to the barrage of mockery. “god, she’s probably never been touched by a guy either, huh?” he chimed in, his words dripping with lewd undertones. he took another drag of his cigarette, then glanced back at you, eyeing you up and down again, his smirk widening into a leering grin. “bet she’s a complete virgin.”

there was a collective burst of laughter from the three of them, their voices loud and harsh in the otherwise peaceful afternoon air.

sukuna, his smirk still firmly in place, leaned back against the tree, his arms crossed. “yeah, she’s probably saving herself for her dream guy,” he added, his voice dripping with sarcasm. “probably wants some perfect fairytale romance. what a joke.”

toji let out a low, dark snicker, his gaze flickering back to you as his smirk widened into something almost predatory. he leaned forward slightly, the cruel glint in his green eyes sharpening as he watched you, completely oblivious to the way they were talking about you.

“oh, please,” he drawled, his tone dripping with mock amusement. “give me an hour with her, and i’d pop that cherry first,” he said, his scarred lips twisting into a wider smirk, a glimmer of cruelty evident in his gaze.

the other guys laughed again, their voices mingling in the harsh, arrogant way only they could manage. for them, it was a game—a chance to mock and taunt someone so outside their world.

geto snort, “yeah, right.”

gojo chuckled, his smirk widening as he took another casual drag from his cigarette, shaking his head at toji’s words. “big talk, man. you are too scary, let me take the ‘pop’,” he said, his voice laced with a mischievousness.

sukuna let out another sharp huff of laughter, his gaze trailing over you disdainfully, his smirk a mix of mockery and condescension. “yeah, good luck with that,” he snorted, rolling his eyes. “bet she’d faint if you even came close to her.”

but toji didn’t seem worried, his smirk only growing wider, a cruel gleam in his eyes as he continued watching you, a dark challenge present in his expression.

“oh, i’d get her,” he said, his voice oozing a dangerous sort of confidence. his eyes darkened, his smirk turning almost feral as he looked down at his hands, flexing his fingers idly.

“she wouldn’t even know what hit her.”

sukuna raised an eyebrow, a wicked grin spreading across his face as he leaned in, matching toji’s dark energy with a glint of excitement in his own crimson eyes. he crossed his arms, tilting his head with a look that practically dared the others to take him up on his idea.

“let’s make it interesting, boys,” sukuna drawled, his tone laced with twisted amusement. “how about a little wager? who’s gonna get to pop the cherry first?”

the idea hung in the air, laced with a sense of cruel playfulness. the others exchanged looks, smirks widening as they took in the challenge, their gazes flickering back to you as you remained completely unaware, hidden in your book and blissfully out of earshot.

gojo’s smirk only widened, his eyes narrowing slightly as he considered the idea. he took another puff from his cigarette, eyeing sukuna with amusement, clearly intrigued by the proposal. “a wager?” he asked, his voice tinted with a hint of curiosity. “what’s the prize?”

geto chuckled, the idea clearly appealing to him as well. he leaned forward, resting his forearms on his knees as he chimed in. “i’m in,” he said, his smirk mirroring the others.

sukuna shrugged, an amused gleam flashing through his crimson eyes as he glanced over at you, still utterly engrossed in your book and completely unaware of the bet unfolding among the boys. his smirk deepened as he looked back at the others, his tone casual yet laced with dark amusement.

“anything you want,” he replied smoothly, as if it was the simplest thing in the world. he paused, his gaze flickering back to you for a brief moment before adding, “but there’s one condition—whoever wins has to take a photo as proof.”

the challenge hung heavy in the air, each of them exchanging glances, their smirks widening in unison. the thought of the twisted little game gave them all a sense of cruel excitement, feeding their arrogant thrill as they eyed you once more, already imagining how they’d play this out.

gojo let out a low snort, his smirk growing into a smirk of his own. he took another draw on his cigarette before tilting his head slightly, his expression shifting into one of agreement. “deal.” he said, his tone laced with a hint of determination.

geto chuckled softly, his eyes flickering to you once more before he nodded his agreement. “i’m in,” he added, his smirk mirrorring the others, clearly liking the idea of the bet.

toji chuckled, a cruel gleam appearing in his green eyes as he looked at the others, the idea of the bet stirring something wicked inside of him. he leaned back, his smirk growing wider as he nodded. “i’m in,” he echoed, his voice lower than before, filled with an almost excited tension.

it had been a strange week, to say the least. the four most popular boys on campus—geto, sukuna, toji, and especially gojo—had suddenly taken an interest in you, a stark contrast to the way they’d mostly ignored you before. they’d pop up in places they normally wouldn’t be, go out of their way to hold doors open or throw you playful smiles, and act… almost charming. but you weren’t buying it, especially not gojo’s relentless attempts to convince you to tutor him. every time he begged for your help, you’d shut him down without a second thought.

today was no different. you were tucked away in a quiet corner of the library, lost in your studies, when you heard the sound of a chair being pulled out beside you. you didn’t even need to look up to know who it was. with a heavy sigh, you rolled your eyes and refocused on your notes, determined to ignore him.

“oh, come on,” gojo drawled, leaning in close with a pout as he rested his elbows on the table, clearly unfazed by your cold response. “i really need help, you know. i’m hopeless without you.” his tone was dripping with exaggerated desperation, but there was a playful glint in his eyes as he watched for any reaction.

you kept your gaze fixed on your book, trying to block him out. “then maybe you should try actually paying attention in class,” you muttered, flipping a page, hoping he’d take the hint and leave you alone.

but gojo just leaned closer, his voice dropping to a softer, almost persuasive tone. “come on, i’ll owe you one. just one study session. i’ll even buy you coffee,” he offered, flashing you his signature charming smile, like he thought that was all it would take to wear you down.

“not interested,” you replied flatly, turning another page without looking up. you could feel his gaze on you, persistent as ever, but you were determined not to give him the satisfaction.

gojo’s smirk widened, his eyes narrowing slightly. he leaned even closer, his lips almost at your ear, as if daring you to ignore him. “come on, please?” he begged again, his tone dripping with fake desperation, his voice low and tantalizingly close. “just one little tutoring session. i’ll do anything.”

you froze, your pen pausing mid-word as the warmth of gojo’s hand slid down to your thigh, his fingers grazing just under the hem of your skirt. his touch was light, teasing, and you could feel your heart race at the audacity of his move. irritation flared within you, but when you turned to him, ready to give him a piece of your mind, you were met with that damn smirk of his—a look of pure, unbothered confidence.

his face was so close that you could feel his breath, warm and steady, as he whispered, “please?”

his voice was soft, almost seductive, and despite the irritation simmering beneath your calm facade, you could see the glint of amusement in his narrowed blue eyes, fully aware of the effect he was trying to have on you. your eyes narrowed, meeting his challenge, and you gave him a cold, leveled stare, unfazed by his proximity.

you lifted a brow, voice cool as ice. “is this your idea of begging, gojo?”

his smirk didn’t waver; if anything, it grew wider, clearly thrilled by your reaction. “i can be very persuasive,” he murmured, letting his fingers ghost over your thigh, just enough to keep your attention.

he leaned in even closer, his smirk widening further. his lips grazed your ear as he spoke again, his voice low and smooth, like silk. “and i can be very convincing,” he whispered, his hand sliding further up your thigh, leaving a trail of heated tingles in its wake.

you inhaled sharply, his breath hot against your skin as his words lingered in your ear, and you could feel your resolve slipping, his touch relentless and daring as his hand slid further up your thigh. the warmth of his fingers, the confidence in his voice—it was infuriatingly hard to ignore, and you could tell he knew it, that smirk of his only growing as he watched your reaction.

you turned to him, catching his gaze, meeting his smug look with one of quiet defiance. the words were barely a whisper as you muttered, “fine.”

his eyes lit up, triumphant, as if he’d known all along you’d give in, but you held his gaze steadily, a hint of warning still lingering there. “just one session,” you clarified, your voice firm, trying to reassert control even as you felt a flicker of warmth in your cheeks.

gojo’s smirk deepened, seemingly satisfied with your response. his hand paused, still resting on your thigh, his fingers gently caressing the soft skin, sending chills through your body.

“just one, huh?” he echoed, his voice low, thick with satisfaction. he leaned in closer, his breath hot on your neck, his lips practically grazing your skin as he spoke again. “don’t worry, i’ll make it count.”

he paused, his fingers tracing small, slow circles on your thigh, the gesture almost innocent, yet the meaning behind it clear. he looked at you, his gaze almost challenging, a hint of satisfaction in his eyes as he noticed your slight shiver at his touch. he leaned in further, his voice dropping to a low murmur.

“my place or yours?” he purred, his tone dripping with suggestion, his hand gradually making its way higher up your leg.

and that’s where you are . . .

gojo smirks down at you, his eyes roaming over your nerdy appearance hungrily, knees on the floor inside his dorm room. “thanks for coming to tutor me today. i really appreciate it,” his voice drips with false sincerity as he palms himself through his jeans.

“i’ve been struggling with this subject and i’ve heard you’re the best at explaining things.” gojo leans back on his hands, spreading his legs wider to give you an even better view of the bulge straining against his zipper. “why don’t you come closer and we can start going over the material? i’m all yours, baby.” his thumb pinch your chin, the soft pad of his finger trailing off your skin before slipping past your swollen lips into your mouth.

he chuckles softly, a wicked glint in his eye as he watches you squirm. “aww, what’s wrong? you look nervous. there’s no need to be shy around me.”

you swallow hard, your heart pounding in my chest as you kneel before gojo, feeling small and insignificant compared to his tall, muscular frame. your glasses slip down your nose slightly as you gaze up at him with wide, innocent eyes.

“oh, um, t-thank you gojo-kun,” you stammer out, your voice quivering slightly. you shift nervously on your knees, very aware of how vulnerable your position makes you feel. and when gojo’s thumb pushes past your lips, you instinctively close your mouth around it, sucking lightly from habit before realizing what you were doing. a deep blush spreads across your cheeks.

“i’m just a bit overwhelmed, to be honest,” you managed to murmur, voice muffled by his thumb.

gojo’s smirk widens as he feels your warm, wet mouth envelop his thumb. he slowly pumps the digit in and out, mimicking a lewd act. “mmm, don’t be like that, cutie. i promise i won’t bite... much.” he winks salaciously.

his free hand reaches out to cup your burning cheek, calloused fingers brushing over the delicate skin. “you’re so cute when you’re flustered like this. it’s adorable how innocent you are.” gojo leans in closer, his hot breath fanning over your face. the musky scent of his arousal fills your nostrils.

“tell you what, why don’t you put that clever tongue of yours to good use and help me relax a bit before we dive into studying?” his thumb presses deeper into your mouth insistently.

you whimper softly as gojo’s thumb invades your mouth more insistently, your tongue automatically swirling around the invading digit. your mind races, trying to process the sudden intimate contact and the heavy implication behind his words.

“i’m not sure if this is appropriate, gojo-kun,” you manage to say around his thumb after pulling back slightly, your voice muffled. “we should focus on the tutoring session...”

despite your weak protests, you can feel your body reacting to gojo’s proximity and touch— a traitorous heat pooling low in your belly, your cunt starting to clenching around nothing in your skirt. you squirm uncomfortably on your knees, hyper-aware of your submissive posture before him.

“what exactly did you have in mind?”

gojo chuckles darkly, amused by your feeble attempt at protest. he grips your hair, tugging your head back to expose the slender column of your throat. “oh, i think we both know this is exactly what we came here for, isn’t it?”

his other hand moves to palm his aching erection through his jeans, the thick outline unmistakable. “i had something much more... educational in mind than boring textbooks.”

gojo leans in, his lips brushing the shell of your ear as he whispers huskily, “why don’t you be a good girl and put those pretty lips to work? show me what that smart mouth of yours can do besides spouting facts.” he uses his grip on your hair to guide your face towards his crotch, rubbing your cheek against the prominent bulge.

gojo groans softly as he feels your soft cheek pressed against his throbbing erection. he grinds subtly against you, seeking more friction. “fuuuck, you feel so good already. i bet these nerdy little lips will wrap around my cock perfectly.”

with his other hand, he starts unbuckling his belt, the metallic clink seeming obscenely loud in the quiet room. he pops the button of his jeans and slowly drags down the zipper, letting them gape open to reveal the waistband of his boxers straining over his massive bulge.

“gonna ruin you for anyone else,” gojo growls possessively. “by the time ’m done with you, the only thing you’ll be able to think about is choking on my dick.”

the idea was overwhelming— the thought of ruining you and winning the bet performed a cloud in gojo’s head. you gasp sharply as gojo forces your face against his clothed erection, the heat and hardness searing into your cheek. your eyes widen at his crude words, a shiver running down your spine— equal parts fear and reluctant excitement.

“g-gojo-kun, please...” you whimper, your voice high and thready. “we shouldn’t... i-i’ve never...”

despite your halfhearted protests, you find yourself leaning into his touch, nuzzling almost imperceptibly against the thick ridge of his cock. the scent of his arousal is dizzying this close, musk and sweat and pure male essence flooding your senses. trembling fingers come up to tentatively brush against his hipbones as his zipper lowers with agonizing slowness.

gojo smirks cruelly as he hears the tremor in your voice, relishing how easily he can affect you. “shh, it’s okay baby. i’ll teach you everything you need to know,” he croons mockingly.

he hooks his thumbs into the waistband of his boxers and slowly peels them down, freeing his enormous, rock-hard cock. it springs out, slapping against your cheek with a meaty thwack. the thick shaft pulses with need, the flared head an angry purple and leaking copious amounts of precum.

you let out a choked moan as gojo’s huge, throbbing cock slaps against your cheek, leaving a smear of sticky pre-cum on your soft skin. your eyes widen in shock at the sheer size of him, intimidated but undeniably aroused.

“open wide, nerd. i’ve got a big load for you,” gojo taunts crudely. he fists his hand in your hair again, using his grip to angle your face towards his weeping cockhead. “stick out that clever little tongue. i want to see you worship every inch of my big, fat cock like the desperate slut you are.”

“oh god...” you whimper, your tongue darting out to unconsciously lick your lips. the salty-sweet taste of his essence explodes across your taste buds, making your head spin. with trembling hands, you reach up to grasp his muscular thighs for support as he forces your face closer to his imposing manhood. your glasses fog up slightly from your quickened breathing. “i’ve never done this before,” you admit in a tiny, scared voice.

gojo grins wickedly, his eyes gleaming with sadistic lust as he sees the fear and reluctant desire warring in your expression. “that’s alright, that’s why i’m here, you’re about to get the fucking of a lifetime to your virgin pussy,” he grunted.

he rubs the swollen head of his cock all over your face, smearing your cheeks and lips with his slick precum. the musky scent fills your nostrils, making your head swim with overwhelming pheromones. “open up, baby, take my cock like a good girl. promise it feels good, do you trust me?” sweet, his honeyed voice suddenly heavy with sweetness.

but despite that, he thrusts his hips forward, pushing the broad tip past your lips and onto your tongue. he groans at the wet heat engulfing him, head just a beat throw back before snapped, eyes lock with your lips taking the half of his cock. “fuck yes, that’s it. wrap those pretty lips around me.”

you let out a muffled yelp as gojo suddenly pushes past your lips, his thick cock stretching your jaw painfully wide you almost sure the edge of your lips stretch open. your eyes water as he hilts himself inside your virgin mouth, the bulbous head hitting the back of your throat. you gag reflexively, throat spasming around his girth.

“mph!” you try to pull back but his grip on your hair tightens, holding you in place. tears leak from the corners of your eyes as you struggle to accommodate his impressive size. your small hands come up to weakly push at his thighs, overwhelmed by the intrusion.

after a moment, you force yourself to relax your jaw, breathing heavily through your nose. you start to experimentally suckle at the head, your tongue swirling clumsily around it. the taste of his skin and the musky scent flooding your senses is dizzying.

gojo throws his head back with a deep groan as your inexperienced mouth envelops him, your tongue clumsily lapping at his sensitive flesh. the sight of your stretched lips wrapped around his thick cock, tears glistening on your flushed cheeks, is incredibly erotic.

“that’s it, take it deeper,” he growls, fisting his hand tighter in your hair. with a sharp thrust of his hips, he buries himself to the hilt in your convulsing throat. your nose presses against his pelvis as he hilts inside you, cutting off your air supply completely.

“that’s good baby, goood job,” praise after praise fallen from gojo’s pretty, pink lips. he holds you there, savoring the feeling of your constricting esophagus fluttering around his cock. after several long seconds, he finally pulls back, allowing you a gasping breath before plunging in again.

gojo sets a brutal pace, fucking your face with deep, powerful thrusts. each snap of his hips drives his thick cock into your throat, forcing you to swallow around him. drool escapes the corners of your stretched lips, dripping down your chin as he uses your mouth mercilessly.

“you’re doing so well for your first time,” he praises mockingly, voice strained with pleasure. “such an eager little cock sleeve, aren’t you? born to choke on a cock.” he pulls out abruptly, his spit-shined cock bobbing obscenely in front of your face. gojo smacks the heavy shaft against your tear-stained cheeks, smearing them with your own saliva mixed with his precum. “strip,” he commands gruffly, releasing his grip on your hair.

gojo looms over you, his chest heaving with exertion and arousal as he watches you intently. his eyes rake over your disheveled form, drinking in the sight of your reddened cheeks, puffy lips glistening with spit, and the way your glasses sit askew on your face.

“come on, slowpoke. i want to see every inch of the body hiding under those ugly clothes,” he growls impatiently, one hand coming down to roughly palm himself through his open fly. the other reaches out to grab the hem of your shirt, tugging insistently. but, instead of slipping out of your ‘ugly’ clothes, you stand there, eyes widened innocently the way you look up to him.

“don’t make me rip them off. you wouldn’t want me to damage your precious belongings, would ya?“ a wicked smirk plays at the corner of his mouth, eyes glinting with mischief and barely restrained hunger.

you tremble under gojo’s hungry gaze, acutely aware of how debauched you must look— face flushed, glasses fogged, lips swollen and slick with spit. with shaking hands, you reach for the buttons of your shirt, fumbling to undo them one by one.

as more of your creamy skin is revealed, gojo’s eyes darken with undisguised lust. he licks his lips, watching avidly as you shrug the garment off your shoulders and let it fall to the floor. underneath, you wear a plain white lacy bra, the fabric straining slightly over your bust.

next, you stand on wobbly legs to shimmy out of your skirt, letting it pool around your ankles before stepping out of it. your panties match your bra, simple cotton with lace. “gojo-kun..” you murmur, hands hovering over your bra and panties, hiding yourself.

gojo’s heated gaze roams hungrily over your newly exposed body, lingering on the swell of your breasts straining against the delicate lace of your bra. he steps closer, crowding into your personal space until the hard planes of his body press against your softer curves.

“fuck, you’re even hotter than i imagined,” he rasps, calloused fingers trailing up your sides to cup your tits possessively. never in a million years had he found a loser nerd like you could be this hot, and it seems like his cock agrees with the way it’s twitching. he squeezes the soft mounds, thumbs flicking over your nipples through the thin fabric until they pebble beneath his touch, pushing a breathless gasp out of your throat.

with a wicked grin, gojo reaches behind you and deftly unclasps your bra, tossing it aside carelessly. cool air hits your bare skin, pebbling your nipples further as they’re bared to his intense scrutiny.

“perfect.”

gojo hooks his fingers in the waistband of your panties and yanks them down your thighs in one swift motion. the flimsy material catches on your knees briefly before falling to your ankles, baring you completely to his hungry gaze.

he takes a step back, drinking in the sight of your naked body with an appreciative hum. his eyes linger on the cute, neat patch of curls crowning your mound, the slight flare of your hips, the gentle swell of your ass. “goddamn, you’re gorgeous,” he murmurs reverently.

without warning, gojo drops to his knees in front of you, large hands gripping your thighs to spread them apart. he leans in close, his hot breath ghosting over your most intimate parts. “i bet this sweet cunt tastes divine,” he growls, dragging his tongue along your slit in one long, painfully slow stroke.

you can’t help but let out a startled moan as gojo’s warm tongue drags along your most intimate folds, sending sparks of pleasure racing up your spine. your knees buckle slightly and you have to brace yourself against the wall to keep from collapsing under the intensity of sensation.

“g-gojo-kun!” you gasp, fingers tangling in his silver hair as he laps at your slit like a man starved. his tongue delves between your lower lips, seeking out your entrance and circling it teasingly. you squirm against the invasion, thighs trembling with the effort to hold still.

gojo chuckles lowly, the vibrations making you shudder. he seals his lips around your clit and sucks hard, flicking the sensitive bud with the tip of his tongue. “ah! ahh!”

gojo moans into your pussy as you grind against his face, his tongue delving deep inside your fluttering walls. he laps at your juices greedily, the obscene slurping sounds filling the room. “mmm, you taste even better than i imagined,” he growls, the rumble of his voice vibrating against your sensitive flesh. “so fucking sweet.”

his hands grip your ass, kneading the supple globes as he eats you out with single-minded focus. he alternates between thrusting his tongue in and out of your clenching hole and flicking the tip rapidly over your throbbing clit. the lewd wet noises echo off the walls, mingling with your needy whimpers and gasps.

“oooh! m-my god!” you writhe helplessly against gojo’s relentless assault, fingers digging into his silver hair as waves of overwhelming pleasure crash over you. your hips undulate shamelessly, grinding your aching core against his face as he devours you like a man possessed.

“that’s it, ride my tongue,” he grunt, the words muffled against your soaked folds. you throw your head back with a keening cry as gojo works you over with his skilled tongue, pleasure coiling tighter and tighter in your core. your fingers tighten reflexively in his hair, tugging sharply at the silvery strands.

“ah! g-gojo-kun!” you gasp brokenly, toes curling against the cool tile floor. your inner muscles flutter wildly around his invading tongue.

gojo growls into your pussy, the sound sending delicious vibrations through your core. he doubles his efforts, sealing his lips around your clit and sucking hard while simultaneously thrusting two thick fingers knuckle-deep into your spasming channel.

“g-gojo-hng!” you sob brokenly, hips continue to roll shamelessly against his face. you mewl helplessly into the filthy kiss, when gojo’s tongue dominating yours as he claims your mouth thoroughly after he stands abruptly.

you can taste yourself on him, the musky flavor making your head spin with renewed arousal and it sends a fresh wave of heat flooding through your veins. his hand slides up to palm your breast roughly, calloused thumb scraping over your sensitive nipple.

when he finally breaks away, you’re left panting and dazed, lips kiss-swollen and tingling. gojo grins wolfishly down at you, pupils blown wide with lust. “god, so fucking beautiful when i’m ’bout to ruin you,” he promises darkly, voice rough with desire. “by the time i’m done, all you’ll be able to think about is my cock splitting you open."

his hand slides down your body to grip your thigh, hoisting your leg up to wrap around his hip. the new position leaves you feeling deliciously vulnerable, your slick folds rubbing directly against the rigid length of him.

gojo’s heated gaze rakes over your flushed form, drinking in every inch of newly exposed skin. he licks his lips slowly, savoring the taste of your essence still coating his tongue. “fuck, you look good enough to eat,” he growls appreciatively, palming himself once again, smearing his precum all over your thigh, the biting lips to stop the moaning betraying his own desperate arousal.

with a few quick movements, gojo shucks off his shirt, revealing the lean lines of his torso. his pale skin is littered nothing but softness. he kicks off his pants next, leaving him fully naked now.

slowly, torturously, gojo sinks into your welcoming heat inch by excruciating inch. gojo grunts as your slick folds slide along his shaft, coating him in your essence. your slick walls stretch deliciously around his girth, molding to every ridge and vein. by the time he’s fully seated, you feel impossibly full, stuffed to the brim with hard, throbbing cock.

“fuuck!” he snarls, eyes squeezing shut at the exquisite sensation of your velvety walls gripping him like a vice. he holds himself there for a moment, letting you adjust to the sudden intrusion. “p-pussy sooo-shit! good.” the feeling of your gummy walls suffocating his cock almost making gojo’s feel bad for using you as a bet, but fuckkk! you feel so good.

you let out a strangled moan as gojo hilts himself fully inside you, stretching you wider than ever before. your slick walls flutter and clench around his thickness, trying instinctively to accommodate the sudden intrusion. the sensation borders on painful but the dull ache only serves to heighten your pleasure, stoking the flames of your arousal higher.

“ah! s-so biiig,” you whimper breathlessly, fingernails raking down gojo’s back. your hips twitch restlessly, torn between the urge to pull away from the intense stretch and the primal need to take him deeper. gojo groans at the feeling of your scorching heat enveloping him so completely. his pelvis presses flush against yours, ensuring that not an inch of space remains between your bodies.

gojo once again, groans deeply as your velvety walls ripple along his length, the exquisite sensations threatening to undo his control. he wants nothing more than to rut into you mindlessly, chasing his own pleasure. but he forces himself to hold still, giving you time to adjust to his size.

“shit baby, you feel incredible,” he rasps, voice strained with barely restrained lust. “so fucking tight...” he rolls his hips experimentally, pulling out just an inch before sinking back in. the drag of his thick cock against your sensitive nerves makes you both gasp. gojo sets a slow, deep rhythm, letting you feel every inch of him as he strokes your inner walls. his hands roam your curves possessively, mapping out the dips and swells of your body.

you arch into gojo’s touch, craving more of his addictive caresses. your nails score down his back, leaving red welts in their wake. the sting only seems to spur him on, his thrusts growing harder and faster as he chases his own pleasure.

“too muuuch,” you cry, tossing your head back as he hits a particularly sensitive spot. your legs wrap around his waist, heels digging into the small of his back to urge him deeper. “hurt, ah! too big.”

gojo snarls, the sound feral and hungry. he leans down to capture one pert nipple between his teeth, biting down just shy of too hard. you yelp at the sharp jolt of pain, cunt clenching rhythmically around his pistoning length.

gojo grunts as your inner walls clamp down around him like a vice, the added pressure sending sparks of pleasure shooting up his spine. he knows he should probably slow down, give you time to adjust, but the way you’re writhing beneath him is just too enticing.

“you can take it,” he growls, punctuating his words with a particularly brutal thrust.

once again, gojo snarls against your breast, tongue flicking out to lave over the abused bud. “don’t worry baby, i’ll make it feel real good,” he promises, harmonizing his words with a particularly vicious thrust. the blunt head of his cock kisses your cervix, making you see stars.

your slick walls spasm wildly around his girth, fluttering and clenching as if trying to push him out even as your body betrays you, hips rolling shamelessly to meet each punishing stroke. the wet slap of flesh echoes obscenely in the room, mingling with your wanton moans and gojo’s animalistic grunts.

gojo lets out a low groan, eyes fluttering shut as your slick walls ripple around his thickness. “fuck, your pussy is milking my cock so good,” he grunts, hips snapping forward almost violently. one large hand snakes between your bodies, fingers finding your swollen clit and rubbing tight circles around the sensitive bud. “come on, baby. squeeze this cock just like that,” gojo urges gruffly, increasing the pressure on your clit. “gonna fill this pretty cunt up real soon.”

you throw your head back with a guttural moan, fingers tangling in gojo’s hair as he works you closer to the edge. your thighs tremble, muscles quivering with the strain of holding yourself open for his relentless assault. sweat beads along your brow, plastering strands of hair to your face.

“please,” you keen desperately, unsure what exactly you’re begging for anymore. more? less? harder? faster? all you know is that yo’'re teetering right on the precipice, balanced precariously between agony and ecstasy.

gojo grins wickedly, sensing your desperation. he leans in close, hot breath ghosting over the shell of your ear as he whispers filthy promises. “that’s it, cum for me baby. gonna pump you so full of my seed, you’ll be dripping for days.”

but before you reach that peak, that climax you desperately need, gojo abruptly stops moving. hands trailing down your tights before throwing your body to his bed. a gasp of surprise tears from your throat, followed by a whimper— a subtle sign of protest.

gojo chuckles darkly, reveling in the delicious sight of you sprawled out before him, flushed and panting. he takes a moment to admire the view— your chest heaving, breasts bouncing with each labored breath, the glistening evidence of your arousal painting your inner thighs.

gojo smirks down at you, taking in your confused expression with a glint of mischief in his eyes. he trails a finger down your sternum, circling one dusky nipple teasingly for a second. “what’s wrong, baby?” he coos mockingly. “didn’t get your fix?”

he shifts slightly, the movement causing his half-hard cock to brush against your thigh. you shudder at the contact, a fresh wave of arousal flooding through you. gojo hums approvingly at your reaction, leaning down to nip at your jaw.

“mmm, look at you,” he purrs approvingly, trailing a finger through your slick folds. “all spread out and ready for me. such a goood girl.” without warning, gojo flips you onto your stomach, hauling your hips up until you’re presenting yourself to him like a bitch in heat. he runs a proprietary hand over the curve of your ass, squeezing roughly. “this ass though... fuck, i could play with it all day.”

gojo’s eyes rake over your prone form appreciatively, drinking in the delectable sight of you splayed out before him. he takes his time exploring your curves, fingers tracing idle patterns across your skin. when he reaches the swell of your rear, he gives the supple flesh a firm squeeze, kneading the plush globes like dough. this might be the first and the last time he has you in his bed, might make it memorable.

“such a perfect little peach,” he praises huskily, spreading you wide to expose your most intimate parts. cool air wafts over your heated flesh, making you shiver. gojo hums in approval at the sight of your dripping cunt, flushed and swollen with need.

he leans in close, hot breath ghosting over your sensitive skin. “look how wet you are for me,” he murmurs, voice dripping with smug satisfaction. you let out a soft moan, squirming under gojo’s intense gaze. his rough hands map out every dip and curve of your body, igniting sparks of pleasure wherever they touch. you arch into his caress, silently begging for more.

when he finally reaches your aching core, you buck your hips eagerly, desperate for friction. “please,” you whimper, voice high and needy. “i need—”

gojo cuts off your pleas with a sharp smack to your rear, the stinging impact making you yelp. “ah ah, none of that now,” he tuts disapprovingly. “you don’t get to tell me what you need, understand? it’s an honor y’know, for me to take your virginity, so you don’t get to tell me what you need.”

he punctuates his words with another firm swat, watching with rapt attention as your skin blooms pink under his palm. but even so, gojo couldn’t stop the spinning from his head, the sigh of you, the feel of your cunt tightly grip his needy cock making him all desperate and losing his shit to you, a fucking nerd all out of other girl.

gojo grins wickedly, clearly enjoying your predicament. he traces a finger through your soaked folds, gathering some of your essence on his digit before bringing it to his lips. he makes a show of licking it clean, savoring your unique flavor with a satisfied hum.

“mmm, you taste divine,” he purrs, voice dripping with lust. “like the finest nectar.”

gojo lines himself up with your entrance once more, the broad head of his cock nudging insistently at your slick opening. he teases you with shallow thrusts, barely breaching your entrance before pulling away again. your walls flutter around nothing, trying desperately to draw him in deeper.

“beg for it,” he demands huskily, giving your rear another firm smack. “let me hear how badly you want this cock.“ he grabs your hip, fingers bent to your flesh the way he drags you to the edge of his bed and your feet touching the cold tile.

his one arm sneaking down to your thigh, lifting it off the floor while the other hand relentlessly teases your needy cunt with the swollen tip of his cock— kissing your clit.

you writhe beneath gojo’s ministrations, a litany of needy whimpers and pleas falling from your kiss-swollen lips. “please,” you beg shamelessly, too far gone to care about dignity. “gojo-kuuunn . . i need you inside me, filling me up. i can’t take it anymore!”

your hips buck frantically, seeking friction against his maddening teasing. you’re so empty, aching to be stretched and filled by his thick length. gojo just chuckles darkly at your desperation, continuing his torturous game. his chest raining with pride and happiness for taking your virginity, him, not another man. him.

“oh? and why should i give you what you want?” he taunts, rubbing the tip of his cock against your entrance without pushing in. “maybe i like seeing you like this— alllll spread out and begging so pretty for me.”

gojo leans in, his lips brushing against yours in a brief, teasing kiss. “you taste sweet when you’re desperate like this,” he murmurs against your mouth, tongue flicking out to lick at your lower lip. “makes me want to devour you whole.”

he pulls back slightly, his gaze intense as he watches your reactions. “but since you asked so nicely...” with a slow, deliberate push, he sinks into your heat, groaning at the velvety tightness enveloping his cock.

gojo pauses for a moment, savoring the feeling of being buried deep within you. then, with a gentle roll of his hips, he begins to move, setting a slow, sensual rhythm. he savors each drag of your slick walls along his shaft, relishing in the exquisite sensation of taking your virginity. his hand leaving another handprint on your ass, digging his dull nail into the skin.

a gasp tears from your throat as gojo finally sheathes himself fully inside you, the stretch both painful and exhilarating. you cling to the sheets, nails digging into the fabric as you acclimate to the foreign intrusion.

but as he starts to move, long, languid strokes that fill you to the brim, you begin to relax into the pleasure. a low moan escapes you, vibrations humming against gojo’s lips before your head falls to his bed. “ahh... yes... just like thaaat...”

your hips start to rock in tandem with his, meeting each thrust with eagerness. the sensations build rapidly, coiling tighter and tighter in your belly. you can feel every ridge and vein of gojo’s cock as it slides against your inner walls, sending jolts of electric pleasure through you.

“more,” you breathe out, voice ragged with need, causing the man to leave your reddened ass to find your hair and take a fistful of the locks while the other arm tightens around your thigh, making a perfect symphony the way he pounds into you from behind.

gojo’s fingers dig into your scalp, tugging roughly at your hair as he pistons into you with reckless abandon. the bed creaks and shifts beneath the force of his thrusts, a rhythmic beat that echoes the pounding of your hearts.

gojo growls in approval, the sound muffled against your ear as he buries his face in the crook of your neck. his hips snap forward with renewed vigor, driving into you with a primal intensity that steals your breath away. the force of his thrusts sends the headboard thudding against the wall, a rhythmic beat that echoes the pounding of your heart.

“you’re so fucking tight,” he grits out between clenched teeth, his grip on your hair tightening almost painfully as he uses it to pull your head back, exposing the vulnerable column of your throat. “i can feel every inch of you milking my cock. this cunt feels like heaven, fuuuck.”

gojo’s words are punctuated by the lewd slap of skin against skin, the obscene sound only serving to heighten your arousal. his fingers tighten in your hair, tugging just hard enough to make you gasp. the slight sting only serves to heighten your arousal, your body craving more of his dominance. gojo's other hand grips your thigh firmly, holding you steady as he pistons in and out of you with relentless precision.

your mind goes blank, overwhelmed by the sheer intensity of gojo’s possession. every nerve ending is alight with sensation, each thrust sending shockwaves of pleasure coursing through your veins. you can feel yourself teetering on the brink, precariously close to the edge.

a hoarse cry spills from your lips as gojo hits that spot deep inside, the sensitive bundle of nerves that makes your vision blur and toes curl. “ahhh! oh god, right there!” you wail, hips bucking wildly to meet his punishing pace.

a sharp cry tears from your throat as gojo’s grip on your hair intensifies, the pain mixing deliciously with the overwhelming pleasure coursing through your veins. you arch your back, offering yourself up completely to his dominating touch.

“yes, oh god, just like that!” you moan, the words tumbling out in a desperate rush. “fuck me harder, gojo-kun!”

gojo’s eyes flash with triumph and possessiveness at your wanton cries, his grip on your hair and thigh tightening reflexively. he slams into you with renewed ferocity, the force of his thrusts rattling the bed frame and sending the headboard crashing against the wall.

“that’s it, scream for me,” he snarls, his hot breath fanning over your ear as he leans in close. “let everyone know who’s fucking you senseless.” gojo’s free hand snakes around to cup your breast, pinching and rolling the nipple between his fingers. the dual sensations of his ruthless pounding and the pleasurable tug on your sensitive bud send you spiraling closer to the edge.

as if sensing your impending climax, gojo redoubles his efforts, pistoning into you with wild abandon. your world narrows down to the searing heat of gojo’s body, the relentless thrusts of his cock, and the intoxicating scent of sex that fills the air. you’re lost in a haze of pure, unadulterated pleasure, every fiber of your being focused on chasing that elusive peak.

the pressure builds and builds, coiling tighter in your core until you think you might burst. gojo’s harsh commands and the brutal pace of his fucking only serve to heighten the tension, pushing you closer and closer to the brink.

with a keening wail, you finally tumble over the edge, your orgasm slamming into you like a freight train. your inner walls clench around gojo’s throbbing cock, rippling and fluttering as wave after wave of ecstasy crashes over you.

“fuck, fuuck! gojo-kun! ’m cumming, cumming!”

gojo lets out a guttural roar as he feels your pussy clamping down on his cock, the vice-like grip triggering his own release. with one final, brutal thrust, he buries himself to the hilt inside you, his seed erupting in powerful spurts as he fills you up.

“fuck, fuck, fuck!” he chants, his hips jerking erratically as he rides out the waves of his climax. his hips jerking erratically as he rides out the waves of his climax. gojo’s grip on your hair and thigh remains unrelenting, holding you in place as he marks you as his, claiming you utterly and completely.

overwhelmed by the intensity of your shared orgasms, you collapse onto the mattress the heartbeat his grasp on you loosened, your body still trembling with aftershocks. gojo’s continued pulsing inside you, coupled with the warmth of his release coating your insides, leaves you feeling utterly spent yet deeply satisfied.

as your breathing slowly returns to normal, you become aware of gojo’s hands gentling their hold on you, his fingers stroking soothing patterns on your skin. a soft, contented sigh escapes your lips as you melt into his touch, basking in the afterglow of your passionate encounter.

he leans forward, bracing his hands on the edge of the bed, his chest pressed against your back. his breath is still a bit ragged, but you can feel his strong, steady presence behind you. for a few moments, all you hear is the steady, calming sound of your combined breathing, the only indication that both of you are slowly recovering from the intensity of your shared passion.

after a few moments, gojo breaks the comfortable silence, his voice low and still slightly husky. “you okay?” he murmurs, his lips brushing gently against the shell of your ear.

his hands slide down your sides, gently encircling your waist, his touch tender and light. the weight of his chest against your back is reassuring, and you can still feel the heat of his body radiating through your clothes. he shifts slightly, his chin resting on your shoulder, and you can practically feel his intense gaze on you, as if he’s silently assessing how you’re feeling.

a soft smile curves your lips at gojo’s gentle inquiry, your body relaxing further under his comforting touch. “mhm, i’m good,” you murmur, tilting your head slightly to rest against the soft material of his blanket. “just... really sated right now.”

you let out a contented little sigh, enjoying the warmth of his embrace and the intimate closeness of his body pressed against yours. slowly but surely, the feeling of his softened cock slipped out of your cunt, taking all of your cum and his down to your thigh and floor.

gojo chuckles softly in response, hearing the hint of satisfaction in your tired voice. he plants a soft, feather-light kiss on your neck, his lips lingering there for a moment. “that’s good,” he says, his voice laced with a hint of pride, “i’m glad i exhausted you that much.”

he pauses for a moment, his hands gently rubbing your sides, before speaking again. “need anything? water, a towel, or just... rest?” he asks, his tone genuinely concerned.

you let out a soft sigh, the tension of the past moments slowly melting away as you murmured, “just rest.” your voice was quiet, tired, and gojo, ever attentive, hummed in agreement, his lips brushing softly against your cheek in a gentle kiss.

“say no less,” he whispered with that same reassuring tone, his arms immediately wrapping around you. he shifted you both onto the bed, pulling you into his embrace and letting you rest your head on his chest. his warmth surrounded you, grounding you at the moment, his heartbeat steady beneath you.

gojo made sure to cover both of you with the blanket, tucking it around your bare body with care, his movements slow and deliberate. despite the weight of the earlier events, his presence was steady, a soft contrast to the tension you’d felt before. outside of the bet, outside of the teasing, the games, and the complexities of it all, he seemed intent on giving you comfort—giving you the space to just rest, without further complications. his fingers gently traced circles on your back, a quiet reminder that, at this moment, there was nothing but a reason you were on his bed simply because of a bet— the bet he’s going to win.

gojo held you close, his arms encircling your body snugly under the soft warmth of the blanket. he continued tracing light circles on your back, the soothing repetitive motion a silent reassurance of his presence and care.

his chest rose and fell in a steady, calming rhythm, and you could feel the faint thump of his heartbeat beneath your ear. his body offered a solid, comforting presence, grounding you in the aftermath of the eventful night.

gojo remained silent for several minutes, simply holding you close, his touch gentle and nurturing. after a few moments, he leaned down, his lips brushing against your forehead in a tender kiss. “get some rest,” he murmured, his voice low and soothing.

he shifted slightly, adjusting his position so that both of you were more comfortable. his arms remained wrapped around you, holding you close against his chest, a silent promise of protection and comfort.

you simply nod.

gojo feels your nod, his lips curving into a small smile against your forehead. “good,” he murmurs, his voice soft and low.

he lets out a deep, content sigh, his body relaxing further into the bed, his arms still holding you close. his breathing slows, a steady, measured rhythm that seems to lull you into a sense of peace and security. the room is enveloped in a comfortable silence for a while, the only sound being the steady beat of his heart against your ear.

gojo’s gaze softened as he looked down at your peaceful face, the soft rise and fall of your chest the only movement in the stillness of the room. he stayed like that for a while, just watching you, making sure you were fully asleep, your breathing steady and relaxed. he could feel the weight of the day, the tension from earlier, and he knew you needed this rest, even if you didn’t quite realize it yet.

once he was certain you were asleep, gojo's fingers slid beneath the pillow, pulling out his phone with careful movements. his smirk returned, a wicked gleam flashing in his eyes as he unlocked the screen and opened the camera. he took a quick snapshot, the sound of the shutter a soft click that was barely audible in the quiet room. his eyes flicked down to the picture, his smirk widening as he admired the photo of you, completely unaware, asleep in his arms.

“this is mine,” he muttered quietly to himself, the excitement of the bet reigniting within him. he knew he was going to win, and as much as he enjoyed this rare moment of calm with you, there was no denying the competitive streak that ran through him. he tucked the phone back under the pillow, settling back into the warmth of the bed, still holding you close, but his mind already racing ahead to the next step in his game.

gojo’s gaze remains fixed on you, admiring the innocent, vulnerable expression on your face as you sleep. he takes several more moments to just watch you, his gaze flickering over every detail of your face—the way your eyelashes flutter against your cheeks, the gentle rise and fall of your chest, the slight part of your lips as you breathe in.

he lets out a soft sigh, his fingers gently tracing your skin, his touch almost reverent. “god, you’re beautiful,” he murmurs quietly, the words slipping out involuntarily.

gojo’s eyes lingered on your peaceful, sleeping form, an unsettling mixture of admiration and satisfaction bubbling inside him. every detail of your face seemed to draw him in, each soft breath you took making his heart twist. he couldn't help but trace the curve of your cheek with his finger, as though savoring the image of you in your most vulnerable state. god, you're beautiful, he thought, the words slipping from his lips in a quiet murmur, but they were tinged with something darker.

as much as he tried to shake it off, a faint flicker of guilt gnawed at him. just a tiny sliver, a whisper in the back of his mind, reminding him of the bet, the cruel game he was playing with his friends. was this really what he wanted? to use you like this, to take advantage of your innocence, your trust, all for the sake of proving something to them? the thought scratched at his conscience, but it was fleeting, quickly drowned out by the more dominant, selfish part of him.

he couldn’t help it—he wanted to win. he wanted to show off, to prove that he was the one who’d conquered you first. the idea of rubbing it in toji, geto, and sukuna’s faces, seeing their reactions when he revealed that he was the one who’d claimed you, made his chest tighten with dark satisfaction. the guilt? it was easily buried beneath the hunger for victory.

monday couldn’t come soon enough.

sukuna leaned back, crossing his arms with a sly smirk as he glanced at gojo. “you’re so damn stupid,” he sneered, his voice dripping with disdain. “just get to the point, genius. we’re here to talk about the bet, not hear you babble on like an idiot.”

the mention of the bet caused a shift in the group. toji’s smirk sharpened, a predatory gleam in his eyes as he leaned forward, clearly ready to pounce on whatever gojo had to offer. geto, normally the calmest of them, looked intrigued, his gaze steady and expectant. sukuna’s own smirk widened into a mocking grin, savoring the thrill of competition, ready to lay down his own proof and claim victory over the others.

he let the tension build, basking in the eager anticipation hanging thick between them. then, without further ado, sukuna reached into his pocket, pulling out his phone and casually waving it in the air. “alright, boys. one... two... three,” he counted, then turned his screen toward the group with a triumphant look. displayed was a photo of you lying next to him, fast asleep, vulnerable and unguarded. sukuna’s smirk grew wider, reveling in the victory he thought was his.

as sukuna’s countdown reached three, he confidently pulled out his phone, an air of smug triumph around him as he turned the screen to reveal the photo of you, asleep in his arms, your peaceful face nestled against him. for a brief moment, he savored the victory, certain he’d be the one to claim the title. but as he looked up, expecting awe and frustration from the others, he found something else entirely.

geto’s face, usually so calm, had twisted into a look of sheer confusion, a frown creasing his brow as he looked down at his own phone, then up at sukuna, and back to his phone again. in his hand, on his own screen, was the exact same photo—down to every last detail. his jaw clenched, and he turned the phone towards sukuna without saying a word, letting the image speak for itself.

toji, who’d been leaning back with a predatory smirk, felt his confidence waver. he, too, checked his phone, and the smirk fell, replaced by a dark scowl. “what kind of joke is this?” he growled, his fingers gripping his phone tightly, a mix of anger and disbelief in his eyes as he flashed the identical photo.

and gojo, who’d initially met sukuna’s countdown with smug amusement, suddenly felt the blood drain from his face. he looked at his own screen, the same picture staring back at him, taunting him with an illusion of victory. his lips pressed into a thin line as he glanced at each of the others, his usual cocky grin now replaced with a frustrated grimace. “so… none of us won anything, huh?” he muttered bitterly, his voice low, laced with irritation.

a tense silence settled over them, their expressions twisted with disbelief and anger. each one felt the bitter sting of having been outsmarted, the pride and triumph they’d anticipated now twisted into something sharp and uncomfortable.

sukuna clenched his jaw, the victory he’d tasted turning to ash. “this is ridiculous. how the hell—” he began, but was cut off by toji’s dry, humorless laugh.

“guess none of us were as clever as we thought,” toji muttered darkly, his voice edged with anger and annoyance.

sukuna’s eyes narrowed, his pride deeply wounded. “tch,” he scoffed, shoving his phone back into his pocket. “so we all lost? pathetic.” they sat in a tense, silent circle, each stewing in their own frustration and realizing they’d been played.

gojo let out a frustrated sigh, the realization of the situation sinking in. none of them had won, and worse, they'd all been tricked. he glanced again in your direction, a mix of irritation and confusion on his face. the realization that you, sweet and innocent as you seemed, had somehow outsmarted them all was a pill too hard to swallow.

“well, this is just great,” he muttered, his voice heavy with sarcasm. “we’re all idiots.”

the four men turned, spotted you a few benches away, looking completely at ease, chatting with none other than nanami. his composed, polished demeanor stood out even in the crowded cafeteria, and as you held your phone up to show him something, you looked every bit like you were sharing a private joke. they saw your face light up with that familiar, radiant smile as nanami rolled his eyes in mock annoyance, his expression softening in a way they rarely saw.

then, to their surprise, nanami sighed, pulling his wallet from his pocket and handing you a couple of bills. your smile grew even bigger, the kind of delighted, unguarded grin they’d each hoped to earn themselves. from a distance, they couldn’t make out what you were saying, but the playful exchange and easy familiarity between you both were clear as day.

their eyes widened when nanami leaned down, just slightly, his hand resting on your shoulder as he pressed a brief but gentle kiss to your lips—completely unfazed by the cafeteria full of students. the kiss was neither rushed nor hesitant, just natural and unapologetic. as he pulled away, he sent a pointed, almost warning glance in their direction, his gaze cold and unyielding, as if daring any of them to even think about challenging him.

you turned then, catching their gawking stares and raising the cash in your hand with a sly grin that practically dripped with triumph. they could only sit in stunned silence as you waved the money at them, your expression smug and knowing. your gaze lingered on them for a second longer, a little glint of mischief in your eyes, before you turned your attention back to your phone, completely unfazed by their reactions.

the four men sat there, speechless, their jaws hanging open in shock at the scene unfolding before them. they’d expected you to be meek and naive, unaware of their little bet. instead, here you were, giggling with nanami, a man known for his aloofness and strict nature, casually taking money from him in exchange for a kiss. your confident wave and smug smile only added to the shock.

toji was the first to snap out of it, his eyes narrowing as he watched you with a mixture of anger and surprise. “what the hell was that?” he sputtered, his voice strained.

sukuna’s face contorted with pure disbelief, a rare look of complete shock crossing his usual smug features. he couldn’t believe that the girl they’d all so casually thought they were playing had flipped the entire game on them. his jaw clenched, eyes narrowing as he muttered under his breath, “unbelievable… she played us.”

toji, on the other hand, looked downright irritated, his expression darkening as he watched nanami give you that casual, easy kiss. his pride stung, and he forced out a low, sarcastic laugh, shaking his head. “so much for thinking she’d be easy to handle,” he growled. “guess we’re the ones who got handled.”

geto was silent, his usual calm mask slipping just enough to reveal the flicker of surprise in his eyes. he prided himself on being perceptive, but seeing you there with nanami, openly flaunting the victory they thought was theirs, left him speechless. his lips curved into a grudging smirk, though, as he muttered, “gotta hand it to her… didn’t see that coming.”

gojo felt his face flush with a mix of frustration and lingering embarrassment. he leaned back, running a hand over his face and letting out a soft, defeated chuckle. “well, this is just fantastic,” he murmured, his voice dripping with sarcasm as he watched you wave the money with that smug smile on your face. “we’re all idiots, and she knows it.”

the four men sat there, each lost in their own thoughts, the reality of what had just happened sinking in. they’d underestimated you, treated you like a naive little toy to be won, but you'd turned the tables on them. and the fact that you’d done it so effortlessly, with such a casual smirk on your face, only added to the collective sense of shock and irritation.

gojo, in particular, couldn’t shake off the burning sense of embarrassment. you’d made him look like a fool, and that stung. him, who was never one to be outplayed, felt a strange mix of anger and admiration at your audacity. it was both aggravating and irritating, but there was an undercurrent of grudging respect. you’d made all of them look like morons, yet there was something about your confidence, the way you casually took nanami’s money, that he couldn’t help but find intriguing.

gojo clenched his jaw, his own competitive nature burning within him. “that smug little…” he muttered under his breath, barely loud enough for the others to hear.

geto shot him a bemused smirk, sensing the competitive fire flaring up in his friend. “looks like you’ve met your match, genius,” he said, his voice laced with sarcasm. “and judging by the look on your face, you’re not handling it too well.”

lost in a whirlwind of shock and confusion, they barely noticed you approaching until you were standing right at their table, an amused, knowing smile on your lips. with a graceful, almost lazy flick of your wrist, you dropped a small stack of polaroids onto the table, each one falling face-up, showing exactly what they dreaded to see.

each photo captured the same damning image: them, fast asleep, completely unaware, while you sat on their waist, looking down with a mocking pout. your lips jutted out in an exaggerated, fake crying face, as if mourning their obliviousness. their faces, peaceful in sleep, were juxtaposed with your taunting expression, turning the tables in a way none of them could have expected.

toji’s eyes went wide as he flipped through the pictures, his smirk quickly fading to a tight-lipped grimace. sukuna’s jaw clenched, a flush of irritation darkening his cheeks as he processed the fact that you’d played him, all of them, so perfectly. geto let out a disbelieving chuckle, shaking his head, unable to hide a mix of amusement and frustration at your brazen boldness.

gojo, usually quick with a snappy comeback, could only stare at the photos, stunned into silence. he glanced up at you, his gaze a mix of admiration and disbelief. you’d outwitted them, effortlessly.

you leaned in slightly, resting one hand on the edge of the table, flashing them a wicked grin. “hope you enjoyed your little nap, boys,” you teased, your tone sweet but dripping with smugness. with one final smirk, you turned on your heel and walked away, leaving them speechless, the photos in hand as a constant reminder of the game they’d lost to you.

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floral-hex · 7 months ago

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my brain hates me so much today 😖

#long day #my tinnitus is relentless. I have a headache that won’t leave. I’ve been in a loud hotel lobby all day. just feeling everything too much #I went out and got some little thc edibles I’m gonna secretly take after my little bro finishes his chess matches for the day #also got some pizza that’ll prob be cold by the time I start in on it but oh well #god my head is bad. my hearing is bad today. all the loud noises are washing together and I can’t concentrate on anything #also also we booked a hotel room. was supposed to be 2 beds. dunno what happened buuuut it’s only the one bed 😬#everything else is booked. apparently there’s also a baseball tournament in town so lots of families #probably gonna try to sleep on this weird long chair thing unless my bro wants to share a bed #I feel so stupid saying I’m burnt out #just kinda spent the day sitting around awash in loud noises and couldn’t get un-drowsy for most of the day #oof. boy. what a mess.#I’ve just been burnt out for weeks and I thought this little trip would be a nice distraction #but really it’s just me already on edge not able to even enjoy sitting around all day #one of these days I’ll get that real good sleep and I’ll wake up so refreshed and my tinnitus will be minimal & I won’t be nauseas all day #this isn’t important #you can ignore this #okay I love you goodbye forever #text

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jungwnies · 2 months ago

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TIKTOK TREND WITH YOUR F1 BOYFRIEND

୨ৎ : featuring : max verstappen, lewis hamilton, george russell, carlos sainz, charles leclerc, lando norris, oscar piastri ୨ৎ : synopsis : wiping off their kiss every time they kiss you

୨ৎ : genre : fluff, angsty only if you squint ୨ৎ : tws : light kissing, nothing heavy ୨ৎ : word count : 3379

୨ masterlist ৎ

ᡣ𐭩 a/n : so proud of charles getting podium, i am a happy girl 🥲 also i finally added george to the featuring >.<

ʚ・max verstappen

the living room was quiet, the soft glow of a lamp casting a warm light over the couch. you perched on the edge, setting your phone up on the coffee table, angling it perfectly toward where max would sit. the screen reflected your mischievous grin as you hit record.

the sound of the shower shutting off echoed down the hall, followed by max’s footsteps. he walked in, towel over his shoulder, hair damp and messy.

“what are you doing?” he asked, narrowing his eyes.

you leaned back casually, fighting a smirk. “nothing. just waiting for you.”

max dropped onto the couch beside you, still toweling his damp hair. without hesitation, he leaned in and kissed your cheek softly. as soon as he pulled away, you casually wiped the spot, pretending to fix your hair.

his brows furrowed. “did you just wipe that off?”

you glanced at him, feigning confusion. “wipe what off?”

“my kiss,” he said, narrowing his eyes.

“no, i was just fixing my hair,” you replied, your tone so casual it could’ve won an oscar.

he stared at you for a second but shrugged it off. leaning in again, he kissed your temple this time, holding it for a moment longer before pulling back. you bit the inside of your cheek to suppress a laugh as you wiped it away, pretending to scratch your face.

“okay, now you’re definitely wiping them off,” he said, his tone sharper.

“max, you’re imagining things,” you said, giving him an innocent look.

“i’m not imagining anything!” he shot back, leaning forward with a slight pout. “why are you doing this? did i do something wrong?”

“you’re overthinking it,” you said, brushing off his concern.

he frowned, leaning in for a third kiss, this time planting it on the corner of your mouth. when you wiped that one off too, his mouth dropped open. “seriously? are you mad at me or something? just say it if you are.”

“i’m not mad!” you said, fighting to keep a straight face.

“then why are you being weird?” he snapped, now visibly salty. “do you not want me to kiss you anymore? should i stop?”

you burst out laughing, grabbing your phone off the table and showing him the recording. “baby, it’s a tik-tok trend! i was messing with you!”

his jaw clenched as he realized, then he groaned dramatically, flopping back into the couch. “you’re actually the worst,” he muttered, though the corners of his mouth twitched.

“aww, don’t be mad,” you teased, leaning over to kiss his cheek.

he huffed, shaking his head. “you're an asshole,” then, with a smirk, he kissed you again and wrapped his arm around you, "but i guess i love you anyways." keeping you locked in place.

ʚ・lewis hamilton

the front door clicked open, and you glanced up from the couch to see lewis stepping inside, duffel bag slung over his shoulder. his face looked tired, but he still gave you a soft smile, the kind that made your heart melt every time.

“long day?” you asked, setting your book aside.

“you have no idea,” he said with a sigh, dropping the bag by the door. “flights, media, and a race weekend? i’m ready to collapse.”

“sounds like you need some love,” you teased, patting the seat beside you.

lewis chuckled, kicking off his sneakers before walking over. he plopped down, wrapping an arm around you and pressing a gentle kiss to your forehead.

“missed you,” he murmured.

you smiled but casually brushed your hand over the spot where he’d kissed, pretending to fix your hair. lewis’s brow furrowed slightly, but he didn’t say anything, instead leaning in to kiss your cheek. when you wiped that off too, his lips parted in disbelief.

“did you just… wipe my kiss off?” he asked, his tone soft but genuinely confused.

“no, i was just adjusting my sweater,” you replied, keeping your face straight.

he tilted his head, watching you carefully now. “right… okay.”

a few moments passed, and lewis leaned in again, this time kissing your jawline. before he could even pull back fully, you wiped it off with a quick swipe of your hand.

“alright, what’s going on?” he asked, sitting up straighter. his voice was still calm, but there was a hint of frustration now. “did i do something wrong?”

you shrugged nonchalantly. “i don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“babe, you’re wiping off my kisses!” he said, his brows knitting together. “if you’re mad, just say so.”

“i’m not mad,” you said, trying not to laugh at the utterly baffled look on his face.

lewis leaned back, crossing his arms. “so, what? you don’t like my kisses anymore? should i stop?”

you couldn’t hold it in anymore, grabbing your phone from the coffee table and bursting into laughter. “i was recording the whole thing,” you admit, "it's a tik-tok trend, a hilarious one i must admit, you should've seen your reaction."

he stared at you for a moment, processing, before shaking his head with an exasperated laugh. “you’re unbelievable. you had me thinking i did something wrong!”

“you’re too sweet,” you teased, leaning over to kiss his cheek.

he smirked, pulling you into his lap. “if this is your idea of fun, just wait. payback’s coming, and it’s gonna be good.”

ʚ・george russell

the room was dim, only the soft glow of the bedside lamp lighting the space as you slid into bed next to george. he was already lying on his side, scrolling through his phone, his hair still slightly damp from his shower. the sheets rustled as you snuggled under the covers, your head resting against the pillow.

“finally, you're here,” he said with a soft smile, turning off his phone and setting it on the nightstand. “i thought you’d be up all night organizing stuff again.”

“you know me too well,” you replied, adjusting the blanket and shifting closer to him.

george chuckled, brushing a lock of hair out of your face before leaning in to kiss your forehead. as soon as he pulled back, you absentmindedly wiped your forehead, pretending to smooth out a strand of hair.

george stopped, his gaze fixed on you, a slight furrow in his brow. “did you just… wipe off my kiss?”

you blinked innocently, tilting your head. “what? no, i didn’t.”

he leaned back, clearly unconvinced, his lips twisting into a half-smirk. “really? that’s how we’re doing this now?”

“doing what?” you asked, trying to keep a straight face.

he raised an eyebrow, glancing at you before brushing it off. “never mind,” he muttered, shaking his head, but he didn’t take his eyes off you as he repositioned himself to get more comfortable in bed.

a moment later, george leaned in again, this time kissing the top of your nose. before he could fully pull back, you reached up and wiped it away, pretending to rub your eyes.

he sat up slightly, blinking in disbelief. “are you serious? again?”

“serious about what?” you asked, turning toward him with a sweet smile.

he let out a slow exhale, clearly trying to process. “you’re wiping off my kisses like it’s nothing. are you trying to tell me something here?”

you shrugged, still maintaining the innocent act. “it’s not like that, george.”

his voice was a little quieter this time, a mix of confusion and playfulness. “okay, now i’m starting to wonder. do you actually not want my kisses or what?”

you quickly reached for your phone, clicking the screen and showing him the recording. “george, it's a tik-tok”

his eyes widened in realization, and he let out a half-laugh, half-sigh. “seriously? you’ve been messing with me this whole time?”

“yep,” you said, grinning.

he raised an eyebrow, shaking his head. “you're lucky you're cute."

ʚ・carlos sainz

the kitchen was quiet, sunlight spilling through the windows as you sat at the counter, sipping your coffee. carlos was standing by the stove, flipping pancakes with the focus of a man on a mission, but his usual easygoing vibe was still present. he glanced over at you as he set the pan down, a lazy smile forming on his face.

“good morning, cariño,” he said, his voice still thick with sleep, though there was a sparkle in his eyes. “how did you sleep?”

“like a log,” you said, taking a long sip of coffee. “thanks to you keeping me up late last night.”

he laughed, his eyes twinkling as he moved to grab the syrup. “so you admit it? i’m just too irresistible.”

you rolled your eyes, setting your mug down. “not quite. you’re more like a human heater, honestly.”

“ah, a heater with a great smile,” he added, leaning in to kiss your forehead. before he could pull away, you quickly wiped the spot, pretending to adjust your hair.

he froze, standing there for a second with a confused look on his face. “eh? did you just wipe off my kiss?”

you looked up at him innocently, trying to hide your smile. “what? no, I didn’t.”

“no? okay…” he said, his voice now filled with playful suspicion. he raised an eyebrow. “that’s… interesting.”

he took a step back, eyeing you carefully. “so, you don’t want me to kiss you anymore, is that it? too much affection?”

“what are you talking about?” you asked, feigning confusion. “i just didn’t want syrup on my face.”

carlos chuckled, but he leaned in again, giving you a quick kiss on the cheek. before he could even fully pull away, you wiped it off again, this time more exaggerated.

he raised his hands in mock surrender, stepping back dramatically. “okay, okay, you’re messing with me now, right?”

“no, I’m not,” you said, trying to stifle your laugh. “seriously.”

he narrowed his eyes at you, clearly starting to get annoyed. “are you doing this just to mess with me? i’m here, making pancakes, and you’re wiping off my kisses? do you want to break up or something?”

“what? no!” you exclaimed, trying not to crack a smile. “I swear, I’m not doing anything weird.”

he sighed deeply, rubbing his forehead. “you’re making me feel like I’m doing something wrong. why are you wiping my kisses away?”

that was when you couldn’t hold it anymore. you grabbed your phone from the counter, showing him the recording of the whole thing. “carlos, it’s a prank!”

his eyes widened as he watched the footage, then he groaned, dramatically slouching against the counter. “you’re unbelievable. seriously, I’m making my famous fluffy pancakes and this is what I get?”

“you know you love me,” you said, laughing.

he shook his head, rolling his eyes. “fine, fine. but just wait, I’m going to get you back for this one.”

“we’ll see about that,” you teased, reaching for a pancake.

ʚ・charles leclerc

you were curled up on the couch, charles beside you with his arm draped over your shoulders as you both relaxed after a long day. the movie was on, but you weren’t really paying attention. instead, you were watching charles every now and then, his focused expression as he tried to get into the plot. a small, playful thought crossed your mind, and you couldn't help but act on it.

you nudged him lightly, leaning in to plant a quick kiss on his cheek, but as soon as you pulled back, you wiped it off with exaggerated care, pretending to smooth a stray strand of hair.

charles paused, the film still playing in the background, but he was no longer paying attention to it. he turned to you, a brow raised and a mischievous glint in his eyes. “did you just wipe my kiss off?” he asked, voice a mix of amusement and genuine confusion.

you blinked, acting innocent. “what? no, i didn’t. you must be seeing things, babe.”

he leaned in closer, his smirk growing. “really? because i definitely saw that,” he said, his voice playfully suspicious. "you sure you’re not hiding something?"

“nope,” you replied quickly, your lips twitching with the effort to keep a straight face. “just... adjusting my hair. i have really messy hair, you know?”

“hmm,” he said, squinting at you. “well, i’ll just have to test that theory again, then.”

charles leaned in for another kiss, but this time, he took his time, making sure to press a little longer against your skin. as he pulled away, he looked at you with a smirk, waiting for your reaction.

without hesitation, you wiped your cheek again, this time a little more dramatically, as though he’d just kissed you with a mouthful of chocolate or something.

charles froze, his mouth parting as he tried to process what just happened. “okay, what the hell?” he laughed, his confusion turning into playful disbelief. “now you’re really wiping it off. i swear, if this is some kind of prank…”

“prank?” you asked, feigning innocence. “no, charles, no prank here. just making sure my skin stays clean.”

he let out a deep sigh, shifting so he was facing you fully, his expression a mixture of frustration and laughter. “you’ve got to be kidding me. you’re wiping off my kisses now? i’m feeling personally attacked, mon amour.”

you couldn’t hold back your grin any longer. “oh, charles,” you said, trying not to laugh, “it’s just a little tik-tok, okay? i swear, i love your kisses... just not on my face right now.”

he blinked at you, processing it for a second before it clicked. “wait a minute...” he said, his voice growing mock-serious. “you’ve been messing with me this whole time?”

you nodded, finally letting out a laugh as you grabbed your phone and showed him the video you’d been recording.

charles threw his head back, a laugh escaping as he groaned in exasperation. “you’re impossible,” he said, shaking his head. “here i was thinking i was doing something wrong, and you’re just messing with me for fun.”

“i’m sorry, babe,” you said, still laughing. “but look at that face you made every time i wiped it off! it was too good.”

he shook his head, trying to hide his grin. “i swear, i’m going to get you back for this. but, just so you know, i don’t think i’ll ever kiss you on the cheek again. i might have to kiss you on your hand next time—keep it classy.”

“that’s fine with me,” you teased, leaning in to plant a kiss on his cheek for real this time, savoring the moment. “as long as it’s real this time, i’ll take anything.”

charles wrapped his arm around you again, pressing his lips to the top of your head with a playful sigh. “you’re impossible.”

“i know,” you replied, grinning. “and you love it.”

ʚ・lando norris

you were getting ready to leave the room, heading for the door to grab something. lando, in the middle of streaming, noticed you getting up and paused his game.

“hey, where are you going?” he asked with a playful grin.

“just to grab my jacket,” you replied, already halfway to the door.

he leaned in to give you a quick kiss on the cheek before you left, but as soon as his lips touched your skin, you wiped your cheek with your hand in one swift motion, acting like it was no big deal.

lando pulled back, his expression frozen for a moment. “wait... what?”

you turned to him with wide eyes, completely innocent. “what? i didn’t wipe anything off.”

“you definitely just wiped off my kiss,” he said, his voice laced with confusion.

you shrugged, still acting nonchalant. “nah, you’re imagining things.”

lando squinted at you, his head tilting in that way he does when he’s trying to figure out what’s going on. “seriously? i gave you a kiss, and you wiped it off like... like i’ve got bad breath or something?”

“i didn’t wipe it off,” you said, barely holding in your grin. “you’re being dramatic.”

“no, no,” he said, leaning forward slightly. “i’m pretty sure you just wiped it off. i know i kissed you, and i know it’s gone now.”

you pretended to look at the floor, trying to look innocent. “you must be tired, love. maybe you imagined it?”

he paused for a moment, trying to make sense of it, but after a beat, he shrugged it off and went back to his game. you turned to leave again, and he kissed you once more on the cheek, this time giving you a teasing smile.

before you even gave him a chance to pull away, you wiped the kiss off again—this time with even more dramatic flair, rubbing your hand over your cheek like it was covered in dirt.

“okay, that’s it!” he said, pausing his game once again. “you’re messing with me. why are you wiping off my kisses? what’s going on?”

you couldn’t help it anymore and pulled out your phone to show him the tiktok trend. “you’ve been pranked.”

his eyes went wide for a second, before bursting into laughter. “oh my god, i can’t believe i fell for that!”

you smiled smugly. “what can i say? i’m just that good.”

“next time, i’m getting you back for this one,” he said, still laughing.

meanwhile, his twitch chat was going wild. "lando, how did you not realize this was the tiktok trend?" one viewer typed.

“i swear, i thought i was being tricked by my own girlfriend!” lando chuckled, shaking his head at the screen. "chat's right though, i should've known better."

ʚ・oscar piastri

you and oscar were lounging on the couch, the tv flickering quietly in the background, but neither of you were really watching it. the evening had that lazy, easy vibe where you didn’t need to talk much, just enjoying each other's presence.

oscar was scrolling through his phone, chuckling at something he’d seen. you leaned over and kissed him on the cheek, but at the last second, he turned his head, and your lips landed right on his.

“wait, what was that?” he grinned, pulling back slightly. “since when did you get so affectionate all of a sudden?”

you shrugged, playing it cool. “what can i say, love? just felt like it.”

he narrowed his eyes at you, a mischievous grin tugging at his lips. “hmm, you sure you’re not up to something?”

you raised an eyebrow, acting casual. “nope, just a kiss. no hidden agenda.”

“right,” he said, clearly unconvinced, before leaning in for another kiss. but this time, just before his lips met yours, you quickly wiped your cheek with your hand, like you were brushing something off.

oscar froze, staring at you like you’d just sprouted another head. “wait, did you just—? did you just wipe off my kiss?”

you turned to him with wide eyes, trying to look innocent. “huh? no, i didn’t. you’re imagining things.”

“no, i saw it,” he said, sitting up a little straighter, a grin now playing on his face. “you literally wiped it off like i’ve got something on my face.”

you shrugged nonchalantly. “maybe you do. you never know.”

oscar stared at you for a moment, his grin slipping into mock offense. “so, now i’ve got bad kisses, huh?”

“no, no,” you said, trying not to laugh. “just… you know. maybe a little extra today.”

“extra?” he repeated, leaning in with a suspicious look on his face. “alright, this is definitely a prank. i can tell.”

you bit your lip, fighting the smile that was threatening to break out. “who, me? never.”

“don’t lie,” he said, crossing his arms. “this is 100% a prank. i'm being pranked, aren't i?”

before you could answer, oscar leaned in again, and this time, when he kissed you, he pulled away slowly, rubbing his cheek like he was wiping something off, complete with an exaggerated motion. “is that better?” he asked, grinning ear to ear. “did i nail it?”

you burst into laughter, finally admitting defeat. “okay, okay! you caught me! it's the stupid tik-tok trend.”

oscar chuckled, shaking his head. “you can’t fool me. but, i’ll be getting you back for this one.”

“you can try." you teased.

“oh, we’ll see about that,” he said, leaning in for another kiss, this time making sure you didn’t wipe it off. “but this one stays, just so you know.”

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iceunhie · 7 months ago

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— KISSES OR KISSES? : honkai star rail

premise. testing out your new lipstick is no fun (normally), so what better way to make use of it by kissing your lover senseless? not to mention, leaving a little something behind.... (aka, lipstick kisses with them.)

ft. blade, dan heng, boothill, dr. ratio, aventurine !

warnings: feminine reader! reader is ultimately genderless but you may interpret this as fem!reader if you want, reader wears lipstick. nicknames hehe, boothill is his own warning, mid writing tbh, unedited

a/n. the lipstick trend does not escape me at all 😞😞 but this consumed me so now i write about it ijbol

MAIN MASTERLIST || PART 2 (sunday, jing yuan, gallagher, sampo, gepard.)

“what are you doing?”

BLADE ceases all functions. like, immediately.

you'd think he'd even stopped breathing once he'd felt the soft sensation of your lips on his, and the pretty sight of the normally aloof stellaron hunter covered in multiple lipstick kisses all over his face to his neck nearly makes the rest of his other comrades keel over from laughter. his silence is indicative of his rather unusual state of shock, the only indication a menacing furrow of his brows (to an outsider, they'd think he's plotting a murder spree, but you know him too well for that) that twitch and simultaneously react the more you kiss him everywhere on the face.

silverwolf will then relay to you that blade walked around for nearly 5 system hours covered in your... marks of ownership, kafka helpfully supplies, and was only made aware when firefly accidentally bumped into him, face exploding in red when she saw the audacious sight of blade covered in your lipstick. “er, blade.... your face is...”

—

blade has never known mortification quite like today, but the intense feeling of something akin to shame is vivid as he stares at himself in the mirror, glaring.

his face is a mess, to put it simply. trailing a hand on the red stains your lips left on to him leaves him with a smudged countenance, furthering the utter chaos that is his kiss-ridden face.

“...ridiculous girl.” avoiding the uncharacteristic way his fingertips feel hot, blade reckons this is probably why firefly stopped dead in her tracks and gaped, stared, and flustered.

clever as you were, and with your equal penchant for mischief, blade, the ever unsuspecting lover he is (he doesn't normally allow anyone to touch him, but you're not just anyone) had easily become the target of your new tricks.

“pfft, nice get-up, old man. got yourself a good day?”

....so that's what silverwolf meant.

DANHENG immediately scolds you, but not in the serious way he normally does whenever stelle wants to eat an origami bird or dives into trashcans or when march accidentally destroys one of the archive books, but in a way that only dan heng ever shows you. he's red, painfully red, and is struggling to face you because he knows that the smug grin you're holding has to do with the sight he'd glimpsed himself to be in moments prior.

unfortunately for him, for all his ways of trying fervently to remove the lipstick stains plastered all over his face, it only took march one look and a melodramatic gasp before the entire express knew, the conductor included.

—

“dan heng and [name], sitting on a tree-”

“k-i-s-s-i-n-g~”

my friends are all senile, dan heng thinks, rolling his eyes while avoiding himeko's friendly (read: eerie) smile. and he's already given up on trying to meet welt's eyes. (read: concerned but not surprised)

the reason? the rouge tinted matte lipstick generously spread all over dan heng's face, slightly smudged and spanning from his cheeks to his lips, nearing his neck.

he'd never tell, but a part of him—one that was reptilian in nature, a primal need of possessiveness—adored the show of affection you showered upon him. it was only right—he was yours, and you were his.

welt is sheepish, coughing lightly that all five heads of the express members turn to him (pom-pom included) “dan heng, is that your tail wagging?”

“....”

(a resounding click! can be heard afrerwards. oh, dan heng is so going to steal march's camera.)

the loud whir of BOOTHILL’s cooling system can't even keep up with how fast he's overheating, because one thing led to another and one look you gave made him weak in the knees and now his body is covered in your kisses, scarlet against the metal gray of his limbs. he no longer has a heart, but the rapid feeling of heat emitted by his body speaks more about his current mental state in more ways than one—he can't even form words because his brain chip is practically glitching itself up into overdrive, because your lips were so warm, soft and gentle and—

“...oothill? boothill? your circuits are—”

a startling sound that sounds just like a mini explosion reverberates somewhere in the tangle of wires near boothill's power source.

oh dear.

( p.s: no warp trotters were harmed, rest assured )

“[name]...” AVENTURINE’s voice falters when you press a soft kiss near his forehead, your lover closing his eyes as he lets out a soft sigh of joy — a bit like a peacock preening... but in any case! he certainly sees no argument being swayed by you, his dignity in shambles, yes, but when you were showering him with affection like this (which, in all honesty, aventurine did not think he deserved) leaves in in a flushed and tattered mess of a man, whose strings are wholly puppeteered by you and you alone.

you are everything; and aventurine certainly can't get enough. (he doubts if enough will even be enough someday) he's the lover who'd proudly want to flaunt such salacious marks everywhere, though his craftily built reputation as a stoneheart—blood sweat and commodity code and all—leaves him to hide your marks on him, as much as he'd like them to stay. (you are a weakness that aventurine keeps like an oath, and an existence that he'd do anything to keep.)

that doesn't, however, stop him from getting you to leave a kiss near his collar, discreet enough to signal his status as irrevocably, undeniably yours.

DR. VERITAS RATIO is actually the most calm and most normal (read: boring) of all the men above when barraged by your kiss attack. letting out a tsk that's more chiding and speeachless than actually annoyed, he casually pulls you away from his face, nevermind his rapidly heating cheeks, which is only made more humorous given his lipstick stained face.

“stop that. you're making too much of a mess of me, fool.” <- is visibly leaning to your face to allow said actions. you're not fooling anyone here, doctor. smh.

however, he does get pretty flustered when a certain blond gambler notes the new addition of a ‘tattoo’ right near his lower lip. “wow, doctor. seems you woke up on the good side of the bed today.”

he spends a whole day scolding you hoarse afterwards, whatever that may entail ;).

(as a way of petty revenge, he will make sure to kiss you senseless right after, until he's sure his own lips are swollen and covered in the warm red of your chosen shade.)

a/n: blog is running on queue as of today, so this post will probably come wayyy overdue lol but hope u enjoy nonetheless!

@ ICEUNHIE: do not repost translate or plagiarize my works.

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strang3lov3 · 3 months ago

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Clean

Joel makes a mess on you, then keeps you in the bathtub until the water goes cold. (3k)

Tags - dark!joel, one shot, smut, fingering, come shot, manspreading, masturbation, overstimulation, forced orgasms, dubconnnnnn, daddy kink, innocence kink, inexperienced reader, biiiig girthy yet unspecified age gap, weird feelings and some good ol' fashioned shame, hitting, Joel is fatherly in a hot and disgusting way, calls himself 'your old man', gratuitous use of the nickname 'kiddo'. Say the affirmation with me: The ickier it is, the harder I nut.#bushnation, MORE DEPECHE MODE REFERENCES. TRY AND STOP ME. Like car sex, I write bathtub sex uniquely in that I’m not bound by bullshit ass physics or logic so yes, both people fit in the tub and everything is fine. Reader is bathed by Joel, her hair is washed and finger-combed by him too, but length and texture are not described. This was a decroded fic for me to make i can't lie Fic help - @endlessthxxghts, thank you for always seeing my disgusting visions and giving me your eyeballs A/N - thank you for all the birthday wishes, dear friends in my phone! I celebrated with you all last year when I was writing Mall Rats and it’s special that a lot of you are still with me today, but some I have new friends too ❤️ I love you. Having readers like you in my corner all this time has been beyond special and so rewarding and I hope you know I mean it when I say that I love you.

You’re washing the dishes tonight, your least favorite of the chores Joel makes you do. You prefer doing laundry or plucking the weeds with him, because he lets you collect flowers and put them in vases. He even taught you how to press them between heavy books, and how to frame them nicely.

Joel calls your name from upstairs. You quickly wash and dry your hands, then scurry up the steps. His door is closed almost all of the way, just a small sliver of light peeks from his room into the dark hallway. “Joel?”

“In here, sweetheart. Need ya for somethin’.”

You push open the door the rest of the way, and Joel’s naked and sitting upright on the edge of his bed, cock in hand with his bare thighs spread wide. He’s grunting as he squeezes the base, the tip all flushed and swollen. “C’mere. Switch me spots.”

You don’t yet obey his order. You’ve seen Joel’s cock before, seen him masturbate before, too. Despite that, it still makes you feel nervous to see him and be with him like this. It gives you that icky feeling in your gut and makes you breathe funny.

“C’mon. You know it ain’t gonna bite ya, kiddo.” Joel stands up and pats the spot on the bed. “Sit,” he says, his tone sharper than before. “Need somethin’ pretty to come on.”

Joel doesn’t like repeating himself. You won’t make him ask a third time.

You sit on the bed, the covers warmed and slightly damp by Joel’s body heat don’t comfort you. He stands in front of you, rock-hard cock bouncing in his loose grip. “Why don’t you give me a hand this time,” he says, reaching for your wrist. He pulls it up to waist level, then wraps your palm around his member, closing your fingers tightly. “Ohhh, fuck,” Joel groans from deep in his chest. Loudly, he breathes in and out through his nose as he twists your hand up and down his shaft. “Jus’ like this. That’s a good girl.”

His cock feels heavy in your palm. You think about the things you like about it - the warmth, all of his veins and ridges, how smooth and soft the head is. But it’s a little sticky, too, which is nice to you.

“Alright, alright. S’enough,” Joel says, pulling your hand away. “Lift up your shirt.”

You lift your shirt, pushing it up your torso until it’s bunched just beneath your breasts. “Nuh-uh. Like this,” Joel murmurs, pushing the garment up above your chest, exposing yourself entirely to him. He rubs his thumb in circles over both of your nipples so that they pebble under his touch, then gropes and squeezes your flesh. “Lie back,” Joel says, pushing you down on the bed. “Attagirl.”

You watch as Joel pumps his cock above you, the end of his fist slapping against his softened belly repeatedly. He breathes heavily, and his dark eyes are wild like an animal as his gaze is fixed on your naked form. Joel breathes quicker as he approaches his release, grunting a slew of swears he doesn’t allow you to say. “Fuck, goddamn. Oh, goddamn,” he hisses as ropes of his hot come spurt onto your body. He covers you like a canvas; his favorite painting, and for his eyes only.

Joel collects a bit of his spend up with his first two fingers. “Give it a taste,” he says. “Want you to try it.”

You open your mouth, and Joel pushes his calloused digits inside, painting your tongue with his come. “Suck,” he says, and you do. You furrow your brows at the salty, bitter flavor, how it tastes dissimilar from its scent. “Don’t like it?”

You shake your head. “I don’t think so.”

Joel chuckles, cupping your jaw and rubbing his thumb along your cheekbone. “S’okay. Y’don’t have to.” Joel yawns then, patting your cheek gently with his weathered hand. “C’mon, kiddo. Bath time. Daddy made a mess a’ ya, didn’t he?”

Joel walks you to the bathroom with him, holding your hand the whole time. He puts the little rubber stopper in the drain of the bathtub, then turns the water on. “Warmer, pl-”

“Don’t need a reminder, sweetheart. Know you like it hot. Daddy won’t let you freeze.”

“And bubbles.”

“I know, baby girl. I won’t forget your bubbles.”

As the bathtub fills, Joel opens the oak cabinet under the sink and pulls out the old bottle of bubble bath, the one he’s been refilling just for you. He pours a capful under the water, bubbles immediately building. It smells mostly of nothing, but a bit of that original bubblegum scent remains. Your image reflected in the mirror begins to blur as steam fills the bathroom, and when the tub is full, Joel shuts off the water. He helps you undress and then gets in the tub first, carefully lowering himself until he’s sat with his back against the wall. “Jesus, s’hot. Gonna turn us both into soup,” Joel laughs. You smile shyly.

He spreads his legs, then outstretches his arm to you. “C’mon. Hop in.” You take Joel’s hand, squeezing it while wobbling a little on your one foot as you step into the bath. “I gotcha, kiddo,” he says.

The water is warm on your feet, nearly burning you but you enjoy the tingle. Joel helps you down, lowering you until you’re submerged in the water, your back against his warm chest, his thick package pressing against your ass.

Joel fills an old, plastic measuring cup with the soapy bath water and brings a hand to your chin, tilting your head back so he can rinse your hair. The hot water feels soothing on your scalp, and Joel repeats the action until your hair is soaked all the way through and dripping down your back.

You giggle at the noise the bottle of shampoo makes when Joel squirts a bit into his hand. He lathers it between his palms, then scrubs your scalp. “Eyes closed, kiddo. Don’t wanna hurt ya,” he whispers.

Your eyes flutter shut as Joel works the soap into your hair, scrubbing your scalp all over. He alternates between scratching you gently with his dull nails, to massaging you with the tips of his fingers. He uses his thumbs to rub the base of your skull in circles, the other four fingers of each hand drawing lines up and down and all over. Once Joel’s built a thick lather, he uses the same plastic cup to rinse out the shampoo.

He conditions your hair next, working the cream into the strands. He uses his fingers to loosely detangle, “Ow, daddy,” you complain as he tugs on a knot.

“I know, I know. M’sorry, baby girl.” Joel presses a kiss to your forehead. “Was an’ accident. M’tryin’ to be gentle.” He rinses out the conditioner next, “Grab me that bar of soap, will ya?” he asks.

“Mhm.” You lean forward and reach for the orangish, rectangular bar of soap in front of you on the shower niche, then grab it and hold it over your shoulder.

Joel takes the soap, “Thank ya kindly, darlin’.” He dips it in the soapy bathwater before lathering it between his palms that are already beginning to prune. Gently, he pushes you forward to scrub your back and your neck, then pulls you right back into himself. “Gimme an arm,” he says, a slight rasp in his voice. You raise your arm for him and he washes you with the lather, “An’ the other,” Joel adds, now washing your other arm, massaging you with his strong hands. “Here-” Joel taps your shoulder with the soap. “Your daddy’s gettin’ old,” he grumbles. “Can’t bend like he used to. Wash your legs f’me, sweetheart.”

“Okay,” you murmur, taking the soap back from him. You lather the soap just like Joel did, then wash your legs one at a time, bending them at the knees. When done, Joel reaches over you to take the soap back. He pulls you back against his soft middle and puts his soapy hands on your torso, sliding them up and down your skin, washing off his now dried spend. He groans quietly as he washes your breasts, kneading the flesh there and circling your nipples with his slippery fingers. You feel his cock twitch against you.

Joel washes down, down your stomach. “Spread ‘em,” he says, and you part your legs wider. Your stomach jumps when his hands rub past your pubic hair and he washes your folds, that soft, private place between your thighs. You whimper when his thumb catches your clit.

“That feel nice, kiddo?”

Your breath hitches in your throat as you search for an answer.

“I-”

“You can tell your old man. I know it does,” Joel coos, rubbing his thumb left and right over your clit. You lean your head back and turn your head to the side, burying yourself in his bicep as you whine. “You don’t take much at all, do ya, sweetheart?”

Joel’s made you come before. It’s one of the first things he did when he brought you home, actually. But you amaze him every time, how quickly and easily you fall apart on his fingertips. He thinks about tasting you, how sweet you are on his tongue. Or his cock, down your throat or between your thighs and splitting you in two. God, you’ve had so much to learn, and Joel’s gotten to walk you through it all. His favorite innocence.

Joel adjusts you both so that you’re sitting more upright and he can reach around you with both hands. “Rest on me,” he says, pressing the side of your head against his so that his scruff is tickling you, but not scratching you. It’s too long for that.

Joel peers over your shoulder to watch what he’s doing, and to watch how you react. Your soft tummy rising and falling with big breaths, thighs twitching. Joel circles your clit with his middle and ring fingers, patiently working you up. “How’s that feelin’?” he asks, “Can you tell daddy?”

“Mm,” you hum, “Yeah…”

Joel chuckles, dragging the tip of his aquiline nose along the side of your face. “Use your words, baby girl,” he instructs. “Good girls use their words, hm?”

“Feels g- feels good,” you whimper, voice breaking as Joel works you. He rubs your clit faster now, and you’re rocking against his palm, splashing the water a little.

Joel brings his other hand to your core and lines two fingers up with your entrance, slowly pushing in while he massages your clit. You wince in pain, squeezing his bicep as he pushes them in further.

Joel hums in sympathy. Being in the bath means you’re not a slick, slippery mess like usual. “Know it hurts, kiddo, but you gotta get used to it.” Joel’s fingers are all the way inside you now, and he pulls them back out. “You’ll get used to it,” he drawls, now pumping those fingers in and out of you, slowly. “You’re bein’ so brave for me, baby girl.”

The ache of Joel’s fingers stretching you out dissipates eventually, and he changes the action - instead of drawing his fingers in and out of your cunt, he curls them repeatedly inside of you - Joel knows you love when he does this to you.

You moan freely, relishing in the pleasure. Joel’s right, he’s always right. You’re used to him now, and he feels so good. Swirling his fingers around your clit, stroking that sweet spot inside you with the other hand - it takes no more than five minutes until your breathing turns ragged and you feel that hot, sticky feeling in your gut, the one that feels both bad and good all at the same time.

“Ask for it,” Joel mumbles, reminding you of your manners as he senses how close you are. “Be polite.”

“Please,” you say, “Can I come?”

“‘Course you can, sweetheart. Of course.”

The orgasm washes over you quickly. You come with a symphony of breathy moans, saccharine in nature. Joel’s never heard anything like it, and he’s grateful he has enough of his hearing left to be able to.

With his weathered, wrinkled fingers, Joel fucks you through your climax until the last of it courses through you. You come down, but Joel doesn’t stop touching you.

Maybe he thinks it’s not yet over. Joel keeps doing those same tight circles on your clit, and you start to squirm. “Joel–” you wrap your hands around his forearm and attempt to move him, but his strength is far too great for your efforts to mean anything at all.

“Sit still. You’re givin’ me another one.”

Joel keeps your back pinned tightly against his hairy chest, your legs spread wide with his hand in between them, patiently swirling his middle and ring fingers around your swollen and over-sensitive clit. Your hips are starting to ache and the sensation of Joel pleasuring you has turned uncomfortable, downright painful.

“I wanna be done, Joel. I can’t do another one,” you whimper, voice shaking as tears well up in your eyes. There’s nowhere to run, and you know you just have to take it. “I can’t.”

“Yes, you can,” he whispers soothingly, his ministrations on your pussy unfaltering. Joel’s holding you back. You’re not supposed to tell him no. “Know you can.”

His words serve more to frustrate you than encourage you. “I. Can’t,” you huff as you try to pull away from him and close your legs shut in the now lukewarm and soapy water, but Joel keeps you in position in his vice grip.

“Knock it off,” he growls. Joel has to hide his amusement. You’re quick to anger, just like he is. Just like your daddy. “Jus’ relax.”

You’re close, and whether you realize it or not, Joel does. Your twitching legs, the way you’re breathing. Release is right around the corner if you’d just calm yourself down. Poor thing. You always did struggle with regulating yourself.

“Get - I told you-“ you interrupt yourself to groan, “You’re not listening to me, daddy. I said I c-can’t fucking—” you don’t finish the sentence and instead seethe in frustration, jerking and splashing bath water onto the floor. “F-”

Joel slaps your cheek, hard. “Easy,” he scolds, “I didn’t raise you to speak to me like that.” Joel his nose against the side of your head and bites your ear, the way a dog does with a pup. A warning. “An’ I don’t have to listen to you. You listen to me,” he adds. “Adjust the fuckin’ attitude and try it again before you piss me off.”

Your voice cracks as you whimper Joel’s name, a sob then escaping your chest. Your cheek stings and tingles, like you never stopped feeling the impact of Joel’s hand meeting your skin.

“Don’t start cryin’, just breathe. Breathe. Go slow,” Joel instructs, pleased when you inhale steadily. On your exhale, Joel whispers, “You need me to talk you through it?”

You nod against him, sniffling. “Then I’ll talk you through it. Focus on my voice, focus right here, kiddo,” he tells you. “Relax, just a minute. Calm yourself.”

You rest against Joel, and he pauses his ministrations on your clit. “I can’t do it again, Joel,” you plead. “I don’t think I can.”

“I know what you think. It don’t matter, ‘cause it ain’t up to you, sweetheart. We’re tryin’ it again.”

Joel restarts, circling and massaging your clit with that same pressure from before. And just like before, it’s uncomfortable. It hurts, and you don’t like it.

“Lean into it, sweetheart. Let it ride.”

Frustrated, you shake your head. “Daddy–”

“You need to let it happen. Got all night, sweetheart. Water’s gettin’ cold.”

“Joel.” Your voice cracks.

Joel ignores you. He pumps his fingers, focusing specifically on your g-spot as he knows how sensitive you are there. Your protests begin to quiet, replaced by soft noises of pleasure. “There it is,” Joel purrs. “Make those pretty noises for me. You’re doin’ good.”

Pleasure begins to build, just like Joel said it would. It almost makes you mad, mad that he’s right. Always right. Mad that Joel knows your body like the back of his hand, better than you do. The stubborn part of you wants to stave off release, but a bigger part of you doesn’t wanna fight Joel on this. You don’t like to fight with him anyway. You always lose. So, you allow yourself to bask in the pleasure Joel knew you’d feel.

“You gonna come one more time? You gonna come on daddy’s fingers?”

“Yeah,” you nod. Your eyes squeeze shut as the feeling builds, almost exponentially. Your gasps and moans halt and there it is - Joel’s pulled another orgasm from your body. More powerful than before, the feeling washes over you like the tide, waves of warmth and electricity flowing over your body with each movement of Joel’s fingers. “Yeah, attagirl,” he breathes. “Manners, sweetheart. What do you say?”

“Thank you,” you whisper, out of breath.

Joel rinses you with the water as you come down from your second orgasm of the evening. He taps you twice on the hip, “Up,” he says, and you stand up on shaky legs.

Joel reaches for an old, floral-patterned towel and dries himself off first, then wraps it around his waist, thick belly bulging over the edge of the fabric. He grabs another towel for you next, drying your legs and arms one at a time before wrapping the towel snugly around your shoulders.

“You finish those dishes?” Joel asks, pulling the drain stopper out of the tub.

“Not all of them,” you answer. “I’m sorry.”

“Nah, don’t you worry ‘bout it. I’ll do the rest, hm?”

You wear a small smile, “Okay.”

“An’ I was thinkin’ that I could make us popcorn, like you like. Put on a movie. One of those girly ones I picked out for you, huh?”

Your smile grows. “Yeah,” you answer.

Joel smiles too. “Good. Let’s get you dressed, then.”

thank you for reading! please consider engaging by reblogging, hopping in my inbox, and/or commenting. your words go so far in keeping me motivated to write ♡

More dark!joel

#joel miller x reader #Joel miller smut #joel miller x reader smut #joel miller/reader #joel miller x you #joel miller one shot #joel miller fic #joel miller tlou #Joel miller #joel the last of us #dark!joel miller x reader #dark!joel miller #dark!joel #pedro pascal characters

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buckyalpine · 2 months ago

Text

18+ Minors dni. Seriously, it gets feral in a way I didn't anticipate and I'm the pervert who wrote this.

Bucky sleeping naked. We're back to this again cause I'm a pervert and he's a cutie, I can’t help it. Why do I find it adorable. Sexy. So pretty. And the different of versions of this?

Imagine being Bucky’s roommate and having to deal with different types of Buckys. A shy, soft Bucky is always in the softest pj’s, cotton t-shirts and warm sweaters. He is truly the sweetest, more precious thing on the planet, always making you a steaming cup of coffee in the morning and hot chocolate at night.

You don’t think much of it when you slip into his room to return the hoodie you stole and you all but faint when you see him practically starfish on the bed, soft snores slipping past his lips, the bedside lamp still on along with the book his was reading half open on his chest but that wasn't what you were looking at cause-

You shouldn’t even be here, you should look away, you really should but it’s not your fault that he has the prettiest cock on full display with perfect, heavy balls in between plush thighs. You're not sure how someone so sweet and pure can look this sinful, nearly tearing the hoodie you're clutching onto the longer you wait by the door.

Idk why my mind went here but imagine he's soft but gets hard when he smells you. You're close enough in his room that your shampoo and something so distinctly you fills his senses. It's not his fault his senses are heightened. I mean imagine you see it happen. A cute little groan as all the blood rushes down between his legs, his cock now standing at full attention, stiff and begging. Leaking.

You're frozen on the spot, begging for your feet to move, just drop the hoodie and run, anything but no. He's still asleep, lashes fluttering against his cheeks as his pulse starts to work a little faster, his hand coming down to soothe the ache, his book slipping off his chest.

You should definitely leave now, it's too intimate, you can't be here when he-

"mph" His sleepy movements are barely coordinated as he gives his cock a squeeze, his cheeks getting pinker by the second. He rolls over with his face now buried into the pillow, pressing his hips against the mattress for some relief.

I can't deal.

Innocent Bucky having a wet dream over you.

Innocent Bucky making a mess because of you.

Innocent Bucky acting normal around you the next morning, placing a steaming mug of tea in front of you while you stutter a thank you and he says you're welcome doll, like he always does.

Innocent Bucky still too shy to tell you that he jerks his cock off to you more times than you can count. That he adores you too much, he'd never be so crass to make a move on his roommate. He's still working up the courage to ask you on a date. Till then he's gonna fuck his fist and hump his bed and think of all the ways he wishes you were naked with him, your legs around his waist while he pounds you, filling you up while you scream his name-

Fuck boy Bucky shows himself off without a care in the world. You start to wonder if the man owns anything else aside from a few slutty pairs of boxer brief's. He's always manspreading and it's hard to act like it's an inconvenience when he's built like that. That being said, it's not like you've seen all of him. He leaves little to the imagination but it's not like he walked around naked.

You'd never openly admit you were a little curious.

You find out he's put your mug on the highest shelf again and you swear he does it on purpose just to mess with you. You grumble, ready to tell him off, walking right into his bedroom, his full legal name right at the tip of your tongue-

"Fuck-"

His chest rises and falls along with his soft snores, one arm propped under his head while the other is half one his chest. His thighs were spread apart without a care in the world and not a single piece of clothing covered his body, bed sheets also tossed aside.

Apparently the serum made him run hot.

Every single bit of him is on display, the only thing he's wearing are his pretty silver dog tags. You freeze, blinking, your tongue now tied, you were so annoyed with him and now-

"Y'like what you see angel?" His raspy voice makes you yelp as he keeps his eyes closed but the smirk that makes its way to his lips lets you know he's more than awake now. You have no idea when he woke up or realized you were there but you can't get your feet to move, voice caught in your throat.

He doesn't even bother trying to cover up, unbothered at the state you're seeing him in.

Imagine this cocky fuck going as far as giving his cock a lazy tug and he can definitely smell how wet you are. He knows you're getting wetter.

"Need something baby, cause I gotta take care of this or I won't fall asleep" He cocks an eyebrow, nodding down to his hard cock before looking back at you. He's not going to tell you yet that he'd been pining after you with the most desperate crush. That he keeps those mugs up high on purpose so you have to call him to get it for you.

"I-I

"Don't get all shy on me now princess, better lock the door on your way out unless you're gonna stand there and watch?" He gives himself another lazy tug, this one followed by a groan.

Fuckboy Bucky who loves the way you look like a deer caught in headlights.

Fuckboy Bucky who strokes his cock while you watch.

Fuckboy Bucky who lets out a deep, raspy, "Fuck baby, just c'mere" when he hears a desperate whimper slip past your lips.

Fuckboy Bucky who gets you naked with him, not wasting a second to get inside your pussy.

Fuckboy Bucky who runs his mouth too much and mumbles an unconscious "Fuck, i love you" when he starts to cum.

and cum.

and fucking cum.

Fuckboy Bucky who confesses his feelings.

Anyway.

Naked Bucky in bed.

That's all I want.

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amirasainz · 2 months ago

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Hey, can write one where rbr!reader and Ollie prank the grid and tell them that Ollie accidentally got her pregnant. Maybe they all have different reactions. Pretty please♥️

Enjoy reading and send some requests!!!

I am currently obsessed with writing driver!reader, so maybe some requests for her or similar to this story.

-xoxo babygirl 💜

The greatest prank of all times

The sun had barely risen over the paddock when Y/N and Ollie, full of mischievous energy, hatched their plan. Both young, vibrant, and constantly on the lookout for some fun to break the tension of race weekends, they decided it was time to pull a lighthearted prank on their fellow F1 drivers. It wasn’t often the grid got to see the two of them in action, but today was going to be different.

Y/N, the youngest driver on the grid and a star for Red Bull Racing, teamed up with Ollie. They had been best friends for years, their bond often the source of harmless trouble. This time, however, they were aiming for something bigger—a prank the grid would never forget.

They booked a small, private room in the Red Bull hospitality area. It was cozy, with just enough space for a couch, a table, and a couple of chairs. Perfect for their "serious" conversation. Hidden cameras were expertly positioned around the room, capturing every angle without raising suspicion. They’d already tested the setup earlier in the morning, making sure every tear and every frantic gesture would be caught on film.

The story was simple yet effective. Y/N would pretend to be distraught, eyes puffy and red as if she’d been crying all night. Ollie would play the role of the nervous boyfriend, pacing the room, wringing his hands, and muttering apologies under his breath. The "problem"? Y/N was "pregnant," and they didn’t know what to do.

To make it believable, they sent text messages to each driver on the grid, tailored to their personalities:

"Hey, I really need to talk to you. It's serious. Can you come to the Red Bull lounge? Please don’t tell anyone."

One by one, the drivers were lured into the trap.

Y/N and Ollie ran through the scenario a dozen times before anyone arrived.

"Okay, so you’re crying, and I’m like, ‘I don’t know what to do!’ And then maybe I sit down and put my head in my hands?” Ollie suggested, pacing the room.

“Yeah, yeah, and I’ll be like, ‘I’m so scared!’ and then just stare at them for help. They'll definitely freak out!” Y/N added, barely suppressing a laugh.

----

The first text had already been sent, and the countdown began. Y/N dabbed her cheeks with a damp tissue, smearing her mascara slightly to complete the "crying" effect. Ollie threw on a hoodie and deliberately messed up his hair, making himself look as if he hadn’t slept.

"Alright, camera rolling?" Ollie asked, glancing at the monitor hidden behind a stack of Red Bull merchandise.

"Rolling," Y/N confirmed, grinning despite herself.

The door creaked open, and the sound of footsteps echoed down the hallway.

“Showtime,” Ollie whispered, shooting Y/N a conspiratorial wink before slumping into character.

The first victim was about to walk in.

----

The door opened slowly, and Lewis stepped into the room, his presence immediately filling the small space. His usual calm and reassuring demeanor was evident as he scanned the room, his eyes softening when he saw Y/N with her head in her hands, shoulders trembling as if she were crying. Ollie, meanwhile, was pacing frantically, his hands running through his hair like a man on the verge of a breakdown.

"Hey, hey, what’s going on?" Lewis asked gently, closing the door behind him. He moved toward Y/N, lowering himself to her level on the couch. "Y/N, are you okay?"

Y/N sniffled dramatically, her face buried in her hands. She peeked at Ollie from the corner of her eye, who nodded ever so slightly, signaling her to go ahead.

“It’s— it’s bad, Lewis,” she whispered, her voice shaking.

Lewis immediately placed a comforting hand on her shoulder, his tone soft and full of concern. "It’s okay. Whatever it is, we’ll figure it out together. Just breathe, alright?"

Ollie let out a shaky sigh, his pacing picking up. "I messed up, Lewis. I really messed up."

Lewis glanced between the two, his brows furrowing. "What happened? You two are scaring me."

Y/N wiped her eyes dramatically, hesitating for a moment before blurting out, "I’m pregnant."

Lewis froze, his expression blank for a second as he processed the information. His mouth opened slightly, but no words came out immediately. The weight of the news settled over the room like a thick fog.

Then, he took a deep breath, his face softening once more. "Okay. Alright," he said, nodding slowly. "First of all, it’s going to be okay. Both of you, calm down. We’ll figure this out together."

He turned to Y/N, his voice gentle and steady. "Y/N, does anyone else know? Your parents?"

Y/N shook her head, biting her lip. "No. We don’t know how to tell them. I don’t even know what to do," she mumbled, her voice cracking.

Lewis exhaled, leaning back slightly as he processed the situation. "Alright. Here’s what I think. You need to talk to them. They’ll be shocked, sure, but they love you. They’ll want to help."

Y/N gave a small, hesitant nod, while Ollie finally stopped pacing, standing awkwardly by the couch.

"But listen, Y/N," Lewis continued, looking her directly in the eyes, "this is your decision. Whatever you want to do, it’s your choice, and no one else’s. Don’t let anyone pressure you into anything, alright?"

She nodded again, sniffing.

Lewis then turned his attention to Ollie, his gaze serious but kind. "And you, Ollie. You need to ask yourself something important—do you want to be a dad?"

Ollie gulped, glancing at Y/N before muttering, "I—I don’t know. I mean, I want to be there for her, but I’m scared."

Lewis placed a hand on Ollie’s shoulder, grounding him. "That’s natural. But if this is happening, you need to be ready to step up. Support her. Be a team. This isn’t just about you anymore."

Ollie nodded, looking genuinely thoughtful, even as he fought the urge to crack a smile at how seriously Lewis was taking it all.

"Listen, both of you," Lewis said, his tone resolute. "Whatever happens, I’m here for you. You’re not alone in this. I’ll help you figure things out, no matter what you decide. You can call me anytime, alright?"

Y/N let out a small sob, hiding her face again to disguise her laughter. It was Ollie who couldn’t hold it in any longer. He burst out laughing, doubling over as the tension in the room snapped like a rubber band.

Lewis looked utterly confused. "Wait—what’s happening?"

Through her fake tears, Y/N managed to choke out, "It’s a prank! We’re joking!"

The realization dawned on Lewis, and he leaned back, his mouth falling open in disbelief. Then, he started laughing, shaking his head. "You two… are terrible. I was ready to call your parents!"

Y/N and Ollie were in hysterics, tears of laughter streaming down their faces.

Lewis stood, hands on his hips, a bemused smile playing on his lips. "I hope you know, you’ve got a prank coming your way now."

Even as they laughed, they knew they’d never forget how kind and supportive Lewis had been.

----

The door opened, and Charles stepped into the room, his brow already furrowed with concern. "Y/N? Ollie? What’s going on?" he asked, his voice edged with worry as his eyes darted between them.

Y/N sat curled up on the couch, her head down and shoulders shaking as if she’d been crying for hours. Ollie, meanwhile, was pacing like a trapped animal, muttering under his breath. The atmosphere in the room was heavy, and it immediately put Charles on edge.

“Y/N,” Charles said softly, stepping closer. “Are you okay? Did something happen?”

Y/N sniffled dramatically, peeking up at Ollie, who gave her a quick nod to go ahead. She hesitated, biting her lip, and finally whispered, “It’s really bad, Charles.”

Ollie stopped pacing and ran a hand through his hair, letting out an exaggerated, shaky sigh. “We… We don’t know what to do, man.”

Charles’ expression shifted to alarm, his hands fidgeting nervously as he crouched down to be at Y/N’s level. “Okay, okay. Just tell me. What happened?”

Y/N took a deep breath, her voice trembling as she finally said, “I’m pregnant.”

For a moment, it looked like Charles had been struck by lightning. His face went pale, his eyes wide as he stared at them in disbelief. “You’re… pregnant?” he repeated, his voice barely above a whisper.

Y/N nodded, her lip trembling, while Ollie looked down at the floor, rubbing the back of his neck like a guilty schoolboy.

Charles sat back on his heels, visibly struggling to gather his thoughts. He rubbed his face with his hands, exhaling shakily. “Mon Dieu,” he muttered. “Okay… Okay.”

After a moment of silence, he stood, trying his best to mask his panic with determination. “It’s… It’s not the end of the world, okay? It’s hard, yes, but we can figure this out. You’re both so young, but… we’ll make it work.”

Charles looked at Y/N with genuine sincerity, his voice soft. “If you need somewhere to stay, you can live with me. Both of you. My home is open to you.”

Y/N sniffled again, nodding while biting her lip to suppress a smile.

“And… And I can help, financially, emotionally—whatever you need,” Charles continued, pacing now, his hands moving expressively. “This is big, but you’re not alone. You’ve got me, okay?”

Ollie looked up, his face a picture of fake anguish. “Thanks, Charles. That means a lot.”

Charles stopped pacing and turned back to them, his eyes glassy with emotion. “Listen,” he said, his voice firm but gentle. “I know this is overwhelming, but it’s also… it’s also something to celebrate.” He gestured between them. “New life. That’s something beautiful. Scary, yes, but beautiful.”

Before either of them could respond, Charles stepped forward and pulled them both into a hug, holding them tightly. “You’re going to be okay. Both of you. I’ll make sure of it.”

Y/N buried her face in his shoulder to stifle her laughter, while Ollie awkwardly patted Charles on the back, barely able to contain his own giggles.

“Charles,” Y/N finally said, her voice muffled.

“Yeah?” he replied, pulling back to look at her.

“It’s a prank,” she blurted out, a burst of laughter escaping her.

Charles froze, his jaw dropping as the words sank in. “Quoi?”

Ollie was already doubled over with laughter, and Y/N followed suit, tears streaming down her face—not from crying but from laughing so hard.

Charles stood there, his face a mixture of shock, betrayal, and relief. “Are you serious? You… You scared me to death!”

Y/N gasped for breath, still laughing. “I’m sorry, Charles! We couldn’t resist!”

Charles shook his head, a small smile breaking through his initial disbelief. “You two are unbelievable. I was ready to start building a nursery for you!”

As the laughter died down, Charles joined in, shaking his head at their antics. “You’re lucky I love you both. But you’d better watch out, because revenge is coming.”

-----

Oscar opened the door, his brow furrowing at the sight in front of him. Y/N sat on the couch, her head buried in her hands, and Ollie was pacing again, his face a picture of distress. The room was thick with tension, and Oscar could immediately sense that something was wrong.

“Oi, what’s going on?” Oscar asked, his voice laced with concern as he stepped in, looking between the two of them.

Y/N looked up at him, her eyes red and her face a mask of fake sadness. She hesitated for a moment, waiting for Ollie’s silent cue. Ollie stopped pacing and gave her a nod.

Oscar stood there, completely bewildered, trying to make sense of what he was walking into. He looked at Y/N, who took a deep breath and said, “Oscar… I’m pregnant.”

The words hung in the air, and for a moment, Oscar just stared at her, his mind struggling to process what she had said. His face drained of color, and his eyes flickered over to Ollie, who was now standing silently, looking every bit the panicked figure.

“Wait… what?” Oscar whispered, taking a small step forward.

Y/N nodded slowly, and Ollie let out a shaky breath, as if the weight of the situation had just hit him all at once.

Oscar sat down on the arm of the couch, placing his head in his hands, clearly shaken. The room was silent except for the faint hum of the ventilation system, and it felt like time had slowed down.

“I— I don’t know what to say…” Oscar murmured, still processing the shock.

After a few moments, he lifted his head and looked at them both, his voice more steady now, though tinged with concern. “Look… whatever happens, everything’s going to be fine, okay? You two are family, and you’re not in this alone. I’ll help you. I’ll be here for you.”

Oscar’s voice cracked slightly, but he quickly gathered himself. “You don’t have to go through this by yourself. I’m here, I promise.”

But then, his expression softened as he looked at them, his eyes filled with honesty. “But... to be real with you, I’m not sure I know how to help. We’re all so young, and maybe... maybe we should talk to someone who knows what they’re doing. Maybe we should ask Mark for help, someone who’s an adult and can guide us.”

Y/N and Ollie both stared at him, and for a moment, the sincerity in Oscar’s voice seemed to bring them back to the gravity of the situation.

“But…” Oscar continued, his eyes softening as he looked at the two of them. “I’ll go with you. I’ll support you. We’ll figure it out together, okay? Because no matter what, we’re friends. And that means we stick together. You don’t have to face this on your own.”

Y/N was on the verge of tears, not from distress but from holding back laughter. She could see the genuine concern in Oscar’s eyes, and despite everything, it made the prank feel all the more heartwarming.

Ollie, too, felt a rush of gratitude for his friend’s unwavering support, even if it was all based on a huge misunderstanding.

“Oscar,” Y/N said softly, her voice full of emotion, “thank you. I swear we’ll make it up to you for scaring you like this.”

Oscar blinked, clearly still trying to make sense of everything, when suddenly the tension snapped. Y/N burst into laughter, and Ollie followed suit, unable to keep it in any longer.

Oscar’s face went from concern to confusion to disbelief. “Wait... What?!”

“It’s a prank!” Y/N managed to gasp between laughs. “We’re just messing with you!”

Oscar’s expression froze, and for a moment, he was completely still, trying to comprehend what was happening. Then, his eyes narrowed playfully, a grin slowly breaking through his initial shock.

“You two… I’m going to get you back for this,” Oscar said, shaking his head, though a smile tugged at his lips. “I was ready to become a dad! What are you doing to me?”

Y/N laughed even harder, wiping tears from her eyes. “We thought you’d be the one to react the most seriously, and we weren’t wrong.”

Oscar chuckled, shaking his head in disbelief. “I can’t believe you got me. But seriously, next time you prank me, you better make sure it’s not something that serious. I almost had a panic attack.”

“I’m sorry, Oscar!” Ollie said, still grinning. “We promise we’ll make it up to you!”

Oscar leaned back in his chair, shaking his head in mock disbelief. “You better, because I’m never trusting either of you again.”

The room was filled with laughter, the tension of the moment finally broken, and despite the craziness of it all, they knew their bond as friends was stronger than ever.

----

The next one who walked in was Carlos, his usual easygoing demeanor replaced with concern as he noticed the tense atmosphere in the room. Y/N sat on the couch, head down, and Ollie was pacing, his hands nervously running through his hair. It was clear something serious was going on, and Carlos immediately felt a knot form in his stomach.

“Hey, what’s going on? You guys okay?” Carlos asked, his voice filled with genuine concern.

Y/N looked up at him, her eyes red and tearful, but there was a flicker of mischief in them that Carlos didn’t notice right away. Ollie, on the other hand, was pacing with purpose, his face scrunched up as if he were carrying the weight of the world on his shoulders.

“Carlos…” Y/N began, her voice shaky. “I… I’m pregnant.”

Carlos froze in place, the words hitting him like a punch to the gut. His eyes widened in shock as he tried to process what he had just heard.

“Wait… what?” Carlos stammered, his mind struggling to catch up. “Y/N… you’re… pregnant?”

Y/N nodded slowly, her face a picture of fake sadness. Ollie stopped pacing, his eyes wide as he looked at Carlos with a mixture of fear and guilt.

Carlos began pacing himself, running his hands through his hair, trying to make sense of the situation. “This... this is big, Y/N. You’re so young, and Ollie too—this is really serious, you know? You guys… this wasn’t planned, right? It was careless.”

He paused, looking between them with concern, his voice rising with panic as he spoke. “You’re too young for this, both of you. What were you thinking?”

Y/N’s expression faltered, her lip trembling as she struggled to hold back a smile. Ollie, too, looked down, feeling the weight of the words as if they were truly being scolded.

But when Carlos noticed how devastated they looked—how broken and unsure they were—his steps faltered. He immediately stopped pacing, his hand lowering from his forehead.

“I’m sorry,” Carlos said quickly, his voice softening as he turned toward them. “I didn’t mean to upset you. I’m not mad. I was just… shocked. I didn’t know what to say at first. I didn’t know how to react.”

Y/N looked up at him, her expression vulnerable, and Ollie shifted uncomfortably, his eyes meeting Carlos’ for the first time in what felt like forever.

Carlos took a deep breath, stepping closer to them, his gaze softening. “Listen, I’m still shocked. You guys are so young. I wasn’t expecting this. But I will help. I will be there for you both.”

Y/N’s lip quivered as she looked at him, taking in his words. Carlos kneeled down in front of them, looking each of them in the eyes. “I don’t know how to fix this. I don’t know how to help exactly. But I’ll be there. We’ll figure it out together. But…”

He paused, his face showing his own uncertainty. “I still can’t believe you’re pregnant, Y/N. You’re so young… this is a huge thing to take on. But… if you need anything—anything at all—I’m here. I’ll support you.”

Ollie let out a shaky breath, still looking down at the floor. “We’re scared, Carlos. We don’t know what to do, and we didn’t know who else to turn to.”

Carlos reached out, putting a hand on Ollie’s shoulder, then turning to Y/N with a reassuring smile. “You’re not alone in this, okay? You’ve got me. But seriously, maybe we need to talk to someone who can help us more. We’re too young to know how to navigate all this, you know? We need to talk to someone who knows more about this.”

The sincerity in his voice broke through the tension, and Y/N finally let out a small, relieved breath, though her face was still full of fake distress.

Carlos stood up and took a step back, wiping his hand over his face. “And I’ll help you talk to your parents if you need me to. We’ll figure it out together, I swear. But… I really didn’t expect this.”

Y/N couldn't hold it in anymore. She and Ollie both burst out laughing, and Carlos stood frozen for a moment, his mouth falling open in shock.

“Wait, what?!” Carlos exclaimed, his eyes widening in disbelief. “Is this a prank?”

Y/N wiped the tears from her eyes, still laughing. “It’s a prank, Carlos! We were messing with you!”

Carlos’ face slowly shifted from confusion to a mixture of shock and relief. He took a deep breath, shaking his head in exasperation. “You guys are unbelievable,” he said, the tension melting away as a laugh escaped him. “You nearly gave me a heart attack.”

“I’m so sorry!” Ollie said between fits of laughter. “We just had to do it to you!”

Carlos sighed dramatically, but a smile tugged at his lips. “You two are insane. But seriously… next time you want to pull a prank like this, maybe make it a little less… real.”

Y/N and Ollie just grinned, still laughing. “We’ll make it up to you, promise.”

Carlos shook his head, chuckling, though he couldn’t help but feel a little bit of pride. After all, the two had truly pulled off a masterclass in pranking him—he’d almost believed it.

“You better make it up to me,” Carlos said with a playful grin. “And by the way, when you two start planning your real life decisions, let me know. I’ll give you actual advice then.”

----

Max strode into the room, his sharp eyes scanning the tense scene in front of him. Y/N sat curled on the couch, her head buried in her hands, while Ollie was pacing frantically. Something was clearly wrong, and the heavy atmosphere hit Max immediately.

“What’s going on?” Max asked, his voice firm and direct.

Y/N sniffled but didn’t answer, and Ollie froze mid-step, turning to look at him with wide, uncertain eyes.

“Max,” Y/N whispered, her voice shaky and small. “I… I’m pregnant.”

The words landed like a bomb. Max’s face immediately shifted into a mixture of shock and disbelief. His mouth opened slightly, but no words came out as he processed what he’d just heard.

“You’re what?” Max finally said, his voice sharp.

“Pregnant,” Y/N repeated, her voice trembling.

Max stared at her, his eyes narrowing as the weight of the situation settled in. “You’re kidding, right? This is some kind of joke?”

Ollie shook his head, his voice low. “No. It’s real. We don’t know what to do.”

Max took a deep breath, his hand dragging over his face as he tried to contain the storm of emotions swirling inside him. “You two are too young for this! How could you be so careless? Do you even realize what this means?”

Y/N flinched at his words, her lip trembling as she fought to keep her composure.

“You’re just kids,” Max continued, his voice rising slightly. “Do you even know what it takes to raise a child? This isn’t just some small mistake—it’s life-changing!”

Y/N let out a shaky sob, and Max immediately stopped. His harsh tone softened as he saw how devastated she looked. In an instant, he crossed the room and knelt in front of her, pulling her into his arms.

“Hey, hey,” he said gently, wrapping his arms around her and stroking her hair. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to yell.”

Y/N buried her face in his shoulder, her fake tears muffled by his jacket. Max’s hold tightened as he whispered, “It’s going to be okay. I’ll help you figure this out.”

He glanced up at Ollie, his expression hardening. “And you,” Max said sharply, his tone like a scolding parent. “You better be ready to step up, Ollie. You can’t leave her to deal with this on her own. She needs you to be there for her.”

Ollie nodded quickly, trying his best to look apologetic. “I will, Max. I swear.”

Max sighed, shaking his head. “Stupid teenagers,” he muttered under his breath before pressing a kiss to Y/N’s forehead. He pulled back slightly, looking down at her with a mix of worry and determination.

“You’re not alone, Y/N,” Max said softly, his hand still stroking her hair. “We’ll figure it out. But… I can’t believe you two let this happen.”

Y/N sniffled again, barely able to keep the giggles bubbling up inside her from escaping. Ollie bit the inside of his cheek to stop himself from laughing at the sight of Max in full protective mode.

Max looked between them, his brow furrowing. “What?” he asked, suspicion creeping into his voice.

“It’s a prank,” Y/N blurted out, laughter finally breaking free.

Max froze, blinking as the words sank in. “A prank?” he repeated slowly, his voice dangerously calm.

Ollie nodded, unable to stop himself from laughing now. “Yeah, Max. It’s a prank.”

Max pulled back, his expression a mixture of relief and exasperation. “You two are unbelievable,” he muttered, shaking his head. “Do you have any idea how much you scared me? I was ready to adopt the baby myself!”

Y/N and Ollie were laughing uncontrollably now, the tension in the room replaced with giddy energy.

“I’m sorry, Max!” Y/N said between giggles. “We couldn’t resist!”

Max stood, crossing his arms as he looked at them both with mock severity. “You two are going to pay for this,” he said, though the small smile tugging at the corner of his lips gave him away. “And don’t expect me to believe you next time you cry wolf!”

Y/N grinned, wiping fake tears from her eyes. “We’ll make it up to you, Max. Promise.”

Max shook his head, his smile finally breaking through. “You better. And next time you prank someone, don’t make it about something that serious. My heart can’t take it.”

----

Lando strolled into the room with his usual carefree energy, a playful grin on his face. He immediately noticed the tension in the air, but instead of worry, his first instinct was humor.

“What’s going on? You two look like you’ve seen a ghost,” he joked, his bright eyes darting between Y/N and Ollie.

Y/N glanced at Ollie, who gave her a subtle nod. Taking a deep breath, she looked at Lando, her voice trembling. “Lando… I’m pregnant.”

For a moment, Lando just stared at her, his grin frozen on his face. Then, he burst out laughing, clapping his hands together. “Good one! You almost got me there!”

Y/N and Ollie exchanged a quick look before Y/N shook her head. “Lando, I’m serious. Ollie’s the dad.”

The laughter immediately died on Lando’s lips, his smile fading as he looked at them both. “Wait… what? You’re serious?”

Y/N nodded, her face the picture of fake distress.

Lando’s playful demeanor shifted in an instant, his brow furrowing as he processed the situation. “How did this happen? I mean, I know how, but… you guys are so young. What were you thinking?”

Ollie shifted nervously, rubbing the back of his neck. “We didn’t plan this, obviously. It just… happened.”

Lando sighed deeply, running a hand through his hair. “Alright. Tell me everything. I need to know exactly what’s going on before we figure out what to do.”

For the next few minutes, Y/N and Ollie stumbled through their fabricated story, trying their best to keep their composure as they watched Lando’s serious expression. Once they were done, Lando sat back in his chair, his arms crossed as he nodded slowly.

“Okay,” he said, his tone surprisingly calm and measured. “Here’s what we’re going to do. First, tomorrow morning, the three of us are going to the doctor. We need to make sure everything’s okay with you and the baby, Y/N.”

Y/N blinked in surprise, not expecting Lando to take charge so quickly.

“After that,” Lando continued, “we’ll go to your parents. Both of you. I’ll come with you when you tell them. They’ll need to know, and you’ll need their support.”

Ollie opened his mouth to protest, but Lando raised a hand to stop him. “No arguments. They’re your parents, and they’ll want to be there for you—even if they’re mad at first.”

Y/N and Ollie exchanged a glance, both trying to hide their surprise at how practical Lando was being.

“Once that’s done, we’ll find a place for you two to live together,” Lando said, his voice growing more determined. “Somewhere big enough for a nursery but close to me so I can help if you need anything.”

Ollie gaped at him. “Lando, that’s… a lot.”

Lando ignored him, already deep in thought. “We’ll design the baby’s room together. I’ll help you pick out furniture, decorations, everything. And I’ll go with you to every appointment if you want me there. I’ll even help with the baby when they’re born. Diapers, bottles, sleepless nights—you name it. We’re in this together.”

By now, Y/N was struggling to keep a straight face. Lando’s level of commitment and detail was far beyond anything she’d expected.

“Lando,” Y/N said, her voice wavering with emotion, “that’s… really sweet of you.”

Lando turned to her, his expression softening. “You’re my friend, Y/N. And Ollie, you too. You’re not doing this alone, not if I can help it.”

Ollie scratched the back of his head, looking both grateful and overwhelmed. “Wow, mate, I didn’t think you’d have a whole plan ready.”

Lando shrugged, a small smile tugging at his lips. “Well, someone has to keep a cool head in this situation. And honestly, it’s kind of exciting in a weird way. A little scary, yeah, but exciting too.”

Y/N’s lip trembled as she tried to hold back her laughter, but it was too much. She burst out laughing, clutching her stomach as the tension in the room broke.

“Lando,” she said between giggles, “it’s a prank! We’re not actually having a baby!”

Lando’s jaw dropped, and he stared at them both in disbelief. “Wait, what? You’re kidding me, right?”

Ollie joined in the laughter, shaking his head. “Nope. It was all a prank. We wanted to see how you’d react.”

Lando slumped back in his chair, letting out a groan. “You two… I can’t believe I fell for that. I was already planning your entire future!”

Y/N wiped away tears of laughter. “You were amazing, though! You had everything figured out!”

Lando sighed, shaking his head, though a small smile crept back onto his face. “Yeah, well, don’t expect me to go all out like that again anytime soon. You’ve officially used up your prank privileges.”

The three of them laughed together, the air now light and full of warmth. Despite the prank, Y/N and Ollie couldn’t help but feel touched by how quickly Lando had stepped up to support them, proving just how much he cared.

----

Fernando entered the room with his usual composed yet curious demeanor, his eyes narrowing slightly as he took in the scene before him. Y/N was curled up on the couch, "crying" into Ollie’s shoulder, while Ollie looked up at Fernando with an expression of guilt and desperation.

“What happened?” Fernando asked, his voice calm but laced with concern.

Y/N sniffled, pulling back slightly from Ollie’s hold to look at Fernando. “I… I’m pregnant,” she whispered, her voice shaky.

Fernando froze for a moment, his sharp gaze flicking between the two young drivers. His silence stretched for a beat too long, making Y/N and Ollie exchange a brief, worried glance.

Then, to their utter surprise, Fernando’s face broke into a wide, genuine smile. His entire demeanor shifted, radiating warmth as he stepped closer to them. “That’s wonderful news!” he said, his voice filled with excitement.

Before either of them could respond, Fernando leaned down and wrapped them both in a strong, reassuring hug. “Congratulations, both of you,” he said, his tone so heartfelt that it momentarily disarmed the pranksters.

When he finally pulled back, his expression softened as he noticed how “scared” they looked. Without missing a beat, Fernando sat down on the couch between them, motioning for Y/N and Ollie to sit closer. He gently pulled Y/N to his right side and Ollie to his left, placing a comforting arm around each of them.

“I know you’re scared,” he began, his voice soothing and steady. “But this is going to be one of the most beautiful experiences of your lives. A new life, a part of you both, is coming into the world. You’ll love that child more than anything else—more than racing, more than winning.”

Y/N’s “tears” slowed as she listened, her heart softening at Fernando’s words despite the prank. Ollie leaned in slightly, his nervous energy fading as Fernando continued.

“You’ll get to watch them grow up,” Fernando said, his eyes shining with a rare tenderness. “Their first steps, their first words, the way they’ll look at you with so much love and trust… There’s nothing like it. And you’ll give them the world because you’ll want nothing but the best for them.”

Fernando paused, smiling warmly at the two of them. “This isn’t something to be afraid of. It’s something to celebrate. A child will bring you joy, purpose, and a love you never knew was possible.”

For a moment, Y/N and Ollie could almost see the future Fernando was painting for them—a cozy home filled with laughter, the small hands of a child reaching for theirs, and the kind of love that could make anything possible.

Ollie cleared his throat, his voice quieter than usual. “You really think we could do this?”

Fernando squeezed his shoulder, his smile unwavering. “I know you can. You’re strong, both of you. And you won’t be alone in this—you’ll have each other, your families, your friends… and me. I’ll be here every step of the way if you need me.”

Y/N glanced at Ollie, her resolve wavering under the weight of Fernando’s sincere encouragement. Finally, unable to keep up the charade any longer, she let out a small laugh.

“Fernando,” she said, wiping her fake tears away, “it’s a prank.”

Fernando blinked, his smile faltering as he processed her words. “A prank?”

Ollie nodded, a sheepish grin on his face. “Yeah… we wanted to see how you’d react.”

For a moment, Fernando just stared at them. Then, a deep laugh rumbled from his chest, and he shook his head in disbelief. “You two are unbelievable! You had me going for a moment there.”

“We’re sorry,” Y/N said, her voice still tinged with laughter. “But honestly, your reaction was so sweet.”

Fernando chuckled, leaning back against the couch. “Well, when it does happen someday, you’ll know exactly what I think about it.”

Ollie grinned. “Thanks, Fernando. You were amazing, honestly.”

Fernando waved a hand, still smiling. “Just promise me one thing—when you pull your next prank, make it a little less heart-stopping for me, okay?”

The three of them laughed together, the warmth of Fernando’s words lingering long after the prank had been revealed.

----

Yuki walked into the room, his usual curious and slightly mischievous energy in full swing. “What’s going on?” he asked, looking at Y/N, who was hunched over, fake crying into her hands, and Ollie, who looked awkwardly guilty while pacing the room.

“Yuki, we need to tell you something,” Ollie began, his voice serious.

Yuki blinked, glancing between them. “Okay… What is it?”

Y/N sniffled dramatically, wiping her “tears” with her sleeve. “I’m pregnant.”

For a moment, Yuki just stared, his head tilting slightly to the side. “Huh?”

“I’m pregnant,” Y/N repeated, trying to sound exasperated but sad.

Yuki squinted, his confusion only deepening. “Wait, like… for real? Or are you talking about some kind of food baby? You ate too much sushi or something?”

“No, Yuki!” Ollie interjected, his hands on his hips. “She’s actually pregnant.”

“Oh,” Yuki said, nodding slightly, but his expression was still blank. “Okay… so, um… what do you want me to do about it?”

Y/N let out a frustrated sigh, looking at Ollie for help. Ollie sat down beside her, trying to maintain the act. “Yuki, it’s serious. Y/N is having a baby, and I’m the dad.”

This only seemed to confuse Yuki more. He blinked rapidly, his eyebrows knitting together. “Wait, you’re the dad?”

“Yes, Yuki,” Ollie said slowly, as if explaining to a child. “I’m the dad.”

Yuki’s brow furrowed further as he processed this information. “Okay… but who’s the dad?”

Ollie groaned, rubbing his temples. “Me. I’m the dad, Yuki.”

Yuki looked genuinely puzzled, glancing at Y/N and then back at Ollie. “But… how? You’re, like, just… Ollie.”

At this point, Y/N let out a frustrated laugh, breaking character. “Yuki, what do you mean, ‘just Ollie’? How do you not get this?”

Yuki shrugged, looking completely unbothered. “I don’t know. It’s just weird. Are you guys pranking me or something?”

Y/N and Ollie exchanged a glance before collapsing onto the couch across from Yuki, utterly defeated. “Yes, Yuki,” Y/N said with a sigh. “It’s a prank.”

Yuki’s face lit up. “Oh! Okay! That makes way more sense.” He stood up, stretching casually. “You should’ve just said that from the beginning. Anyway, I’m going to get a snack. Let me know if you need help with, uh, whatever.”

With that, Yuki walked out of the room, leaving Y/N and Ollie staring after him, dumbfounded.

“He didn’t get it at all,” Ollie muttered, shaking his head.

“Nope,” Y/N agreed, slumping back against the couch.

From down the hall, Yuki’s voice echoed back to them. “You guys are weird!”

----

Franco stepped into the room with a concerned expression, immediately sensing something was off. His eyes darted between Y/N, who was "crying" into her hands, and Ollie, who was pacing nervously with a hand in his hair.

“What’s going on?” Franco asked, his voice laced with worry as he moved closer. “Are you two okay? Did something happen?”

Y/N sniffled dramatically, looking up at him with red-rimmed eyes—an excellent fake cry performance. “Franco… I’m pregnant.��

Franco froze, his eyes going wide. He opened his mouth to say something but immediately closed it again, clearly unsure how to react. “Wait… are you—like, seriously? For real?”

Ollie nodded solemnly, stopping his pacing. “Yeah, and… I’m the dad.”

“Oh, my god,” Franco breathed, his hand coming up to cover his mouth. He took a step closer to them, his nervous energy bubbling over. “Okay, uh… okay. Are you happy? Are you scared? Sad? I—I don’t know how to feel right now. What about you guys?”

Y/N hiccupped, pretending to be on the verge of another sob. “We don’t know what to do, Franco. We’re so young…”

Franco immediately crouched down in front of her, his hands hovering nervously as if he wanted to comfort her but wasn’t sure how. “Hey, hey, it’s okay,” he said quickly, his tone soft and motherly. “Deep breaths, Y/N. Deep breaths. It’s going to be okay. You too, Ollie—deep breaths.”

Ollie blinked in surprise. “Franco, you’re the one freaking out.”

Franco ignored him, pulling a chair close and sitting down, his knee bouncing anxiously. He clasped his hands together, his knuckles turning white as he tried to gather his thoughts. “Alright, listen. This is big. It’s huge. But we’re going to figure it out. You’re going to figure it out.”

He glanced between them again, his gaze softening. “Look, this is scary, but it’s also… kind of amazing, right? A new life! But—wait, no, sorry, I don’t want to freak you out more,” he added quickly, shaking his head. “Are you happy about this? Or scared? Or both? You don’t have to answer if you don’t want to. Oh god, I’m not helping, am I?”

Y/N bit her lip to keep from laughing, shaking her head. “No, Franco, you’re helping,” she said, her voice quivering with fake emotion.

Franco exhaled in relief, reaching over to pat her hand awkwardly. “Okay, good. That’s good. So, uh… first thing’s first: don’t panic. Take deep breaths. Have you thought about telling your parents? Or… no, no, wait, one thing at a time. I’m sorry, I’m just…” He ran a hand through his hair, visibly flustered. “I’m freaking out for you. But you’re going to be okay, I promise.”

Y/N and Ollie exchanged a quick glance, barely holding back their laughter as Franco continued to fret over them like a worried parent.

Finally, Y/N couldn’t take it anymore. “Franco,” she said gently, reaching out to touch his hand.

He looked up at her, his face a mix of concern and determination. “Yeah?”

“It’s a prank,” she said, unable to hold back a laugh.

Franco blinked, his brain taking a second to catch up. “A… prank?”

Ollie nodded, his grin sheepish. “Yeah. We just wanted to see how you’d react.”

For a moment, Franco just stared at them, his jaw slightly slack. Then he let out a groan, leaning back in his chair and covering his face with his hands. “Are you serious? You two put me through all that for a prank?”

Y/N burst out laughing, reaching over to pat his arm. “Franco, you were amazing. Seriously, you were so sweet.”

Franco peeked at her through his fingers, a small, embarrassed smile tugging at his lips. “Yeah, well, next time maybe prank someone who doesn’t care as much.”

Ollie clapped him on the shoulder. “You care too much, mate. But that’s why we love you.”

Franco groaned again, though his smile lingered. “You’re both lucky I love you too. But don’t ever do that to me again!”

The three of them laughed together, the tension melting away as Franco finally relaxed, shaking his head at the duo’s mischievous antics.

----

The press conference room was abuzz with the usual pre-event chatter. Reporters settled into their seats, armed with notebooks, voice recorders, and cameras, ready to pepper the drivers with questions. But the atmosphere shifted when Y/N and Ollie walked in.

Y/N’s eyes were red and puffy, as though she’d been crying for hours. Her shoulders were hunched, her body language radiating nervousness. Ollie, on the other hand, had an almost frantic energy, his leg bouncing as he sat down next to her. Yet, he kept a hand on her back, rubbing soothing circles and leaning in every so often to whisper something comforting.

The other drivers on the panel—fully in on the prank—exchanged knowing glances, some biting their lips to keep from laughing. Lewis had to clear his throat and look away, Max pretended to be overly focused on his water bottle, and Lando barely managed to keep a smirk off his face.

It didn’t take long for the reporters to notice that something was off.

“Y/N,” one of them finally asked, leaning forward, “are you alright? You look upset.”

Y/N sniffled audibly, looking down at the table as though gathering herself. Ollie leaned closer, whispering something inaudible, which only seemed to make the situation more curious.

Another reporter jumped in. “Ollie, is everything okay with Y/N? You seem… tense.”

The tension in the room became palpable as reporters shifted in their seats, sensing a story. Finally, Y/N lifted her head, her voice shaky as she spoke. “We… we weren’t planning on talking about this today, but…” She paused, looking at Ollie, who nodded solemnly.

Ollie took over, his voice steady but filled with a faux nervous edge. “Y/N and I… we just found out she’s pregnant.”

The room erupted.

Gasps, hurried whispers, and the frantic clicking of cameras filled the air as reporters scrambled to process the bombshell.

“What does this mean for your career, Y/N?”

“Ollie, how are you going to support her through this?”

“Did Red Bull know? What’s the team’s response?”

Y/N buried her face in her hands, and Ollie leaned closer to shield her from the barrage of questions, murmuring fake reassurances like, “It’s okay, we’ll get through this.”

The other drivers played their parts to perfection.

Fernando leaned forward with a supportive nod. “We’re here for them, of course.”

Charles shook his head solemnly. “It’s a difficult situation, but they’re strong.”

Lando, biting his lip to keep from laughing, muttered, “Yeah, we’ll all be there for them.”

Max, perhaps enjoying the chaos a bit too much, smirked and added, “It’s a bit shocking, isn’t it? But these things happen.”

The questions only grew louder, reporters tripping over one another to get their takes. But then Y/N, who had been trying to “compose herself,” let out a small snort of laughter. Ollie followed suit, and within seconds, both of them were doubled over, laughing uncontrollably.

The reporters froze, staring in confusion. “What’s so funny?” one finally asked.

Lando couldn’t hold back any longer, bursting into laughter. Fernando chuckled, Charles shook his head with a grin, and even Max let out an amused huff.

Y/N finally managed to speak through her laughter. “It’s—it’s a prank! We’re not pregnant!”

The room went silent for a moment before an uproar of disbelief and groans erupted from the reporters. Some laughed along, shaking their heads, while others looked like they’d been played harder than ever before.

Ollie grinned, leaning into the microphone. “Sorry, we couldn’t resist. The reactions were too good.”

The other drivers laughed harder, with Fernando adding, “You should’ve seen your faces!”

Within hours, clips from the press conference flooded social media, from Y/N’s dramatic performance to Ollie’s earnest act and the reporters’ chaotic reactions. The prank went viral almost immediately, with fans and media outlets alike praising the creativity and humor of it all.

“Y/N and Ollie: F1’s Ultimate Pranksters” trended worldwide, with the prank cementing itself as one of the most memorable moments of the season. Even the reporters, though initially annoyed, couldn’t help but laugh at themselves once the dust settled.

#formula 1 #formula 1 x reader #xoxo babygirl 💋#ollie bearman x reader #lewis hamilton x reader #charles leclerc x reader #carlos sainz x reader #oscar piastri x reader #max verstappen x reader #lando norris x reader #fernando alonso x reader #yuki tsunoda x reader #franco colapinto x reader #driver!reader

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radiant-reid · 8 months ago

Text

24 Hours

request: a blurb where he actually gets mad at JJ when she confesses to love him but doesn't really say anything at the moment. But then when he introduces reader to the team as his girlfriend, JJ is being kinda rude to her. She tries to tell him she doesn't like her, that she's not good for him. And spencer gets mad and protective👀 maybe he even throws a "i'm going to marry her, whether you like it or not".

a/n: my return piece !!

Pairing: Spencer Reid x Fem!Reader (Fluff)

Word Count: 2.2k

Spencer sees red when he walks out of the jewelry store after shooting the unsub.

JJ is the first girl he has ever asked out, someone he pined over for years after her subtle rejection at the Redskins game. He understood her reasoning. It would have been impractical for them to add relationship highs and lows to everything the BAU has been through over fourteen years, and that's if they stayed together. If they hadn't, things would have been even more complicated.

Also she just generally didn't like him that way. Or so he thought.

It didn't mean she wasn't his ideal for many years. His first love, who had so many traits he didn't have that he desperately wanted.

His confirmation he would be unlucky in love came after that with Maeve, who he once again thought could be the one for him. And then he realized that maybe the person for him had been taken away from him.

Then he met Y/n, and it all seemed worth it. All those terrible nights of crying and feeling like he would forever be alone, all the times he was the only single one on the team, knowing everyone was going home to someone they loved unconditionally and relied on for support.

She's the sun and the moon, and he fell in love so fast he couldn't stop it. Luckily, she did too.

Until JJ fucked it up.

The truth she had to tell to get them out alive dropped an atomic bomb on his newly formed life plans.

Spencer doesn't speak to her that night as they finish their recounts and reports. She leaves it out, though, he discovers, opting to write the secret about her miscarriage instead of confessing her love for her best friend and the godfather of her kids.

It messes with his head the whole way home. He can't sleep on the jet, even if he wanted to as he tried to work out what he was feeling.

All JJ does is send him pleading looks, and all he does is get angry because how dare she do this now? After she had fifteen years of them working together, all those chances to tell him how she felt.

He would have married and had a family with her, the family he always wanted. It's always stayed in the back of his head for so long, and just as he sees someone else in that role in his dreams, she drudges all of it back up.

It's such a long flight, and he taps his foot the whole way while staring out the window, not even able to read.

He goes to Y/n's. He's not sure what he's going to say, how much of it he's going to tell her, but he needs to see her to cool off the fury boiling out of him.

"Hey, handsome." She calls out when he walks in the door as cheerful as ever.

He feels a pit of guilt sink into his stomach because he can't tell her without ruining everything they delicately have put together. Maybe it's wrong to lie by omission, but his brain keeps coming back to fault. And it's JJ's fault. She's the one who's jeopardizing everything.

"Hi, gorgeous." He replies, walking into the living room to find her laying on the couch, book in her hands and her head on the armrest. He's reminded how accurate the petname he calls her by is when he's taken off guard by her breathless beauty. "How are you liking it?" He asks.

"It's good." She answers, putting the book down. "But that's because it's very you."

She gets up, meeting him behind the couch to cup his jaw, stroking over his skin and staring into his eyes for a moment before kissing him properly.

He relaxes into it, the tension in his shoulders easing and his brain slowing down for a moment. It's heavenly, as always, and it's what being loved is meant to feel like.

"How was your case?" She asks when she pulls back, still not daring to move too far away from him.

He tenses instantly at that, totally readable behavior, but he's got to perfect excuse to play it off. "It was rough." He holds out his bandaged hand that he's been avoiding showing her. "I got hurt."

"Shit." She straightens up, noticing how big it looked. "What happened?"

"Cut it on glass." He answers, not going as far as to say where he was when it occurred. "I'm fine, though. Promise."

She nods, reassured. "We've got to be up in, like, six hours, you know?" She reminds him of the time.

With the amount of coffee and adrenaline in his system, he barely registered it was already past 2 in the morning. Usually, they would have stayed in LA for the night, but being home in time for Rossi's wedding trumped a good night of sleep for everyone.

"Can I sleep here?" He wonders, awkwardly looking down at his feet.

"Duh. I'm not going to kick you out and make you come pick me up so we can go tomorrow morning." She jokes. "Picked up your suit, too. You're going to look very handsome."

Spencer grins because she seriously can't get more perfect. She still feels so unattainable, but he'd do anything to make sure he doesn't lose her.

He really should tell her, but he can't. Not right now.

Y/n snaps him out of it. "Bedtime now?"

"Please." He agrees gratefully, keeping his arms wrapped around her while they walk to her bedroom.

He keeps her close while they go through the motions of getting ready for bed. Spencer quickly sheds his suit and both of them brush their teeth.

His head is on the pillow for only a few seconds before he's asleep, and she follows soon after.

The alarm going off isn't as much of a problem when Spencer is lying in bed next to her, arm wrapped around her waist. It's one of the things she misses a lot when he's away.

"Hi, beautiful," Spencer whispers, a husky voice as always. He's glad he fell asleep quickly, not having wanted to sit up thinking about the stupid things JJ has said. He just couldn't understand why it was coming up now. Sleep provided absolutely no clarity.

She grins at him. "Hi."

"Are you ready for today?" He asks softly.

"A little nervous," Y/n admits. The BAU is his family after all. His mom is there but the BAU has been where he's spent most of his life for the last 15 years.

"They'll love you." Because I love you. Spencer assures her.

She smiles softly, feeling a little better. "Let's get up then."

Spencer agrees, not before planting a few kisses on her lips and hugging her tightly.

They get ready side by side, feeling a great sense of domesticity. She's never gotten close to someone as quickly as she has with Spencer. Somehow, it's not scary that it's happened this way.

"Wow, you're very gorgeous," Spencer tells her as she touches up the final strand of her hair, adding enough hairspray that it won't fall out. He stands in the doorway of the bathroom, admiring her. "Wow."

"Thank you." Y/n spins around to look at him in his deep maroon suit. It matches her dress color which she agrees looks very nice on her. "And you're very handsome."

"Ready? The car is coming soon." He says.

She nods, fixing her bracelet. "Let's do it."

There are still some nerves as the car takes them to the venue. Spencer does a good job of assuring her it'll be okay, his hand like a magnet to her thigh. He seems slightly off like there's something out of place, but she shrugs it off. She hopes he's being cute and afraid his friends still say something embarrassing.

The venue and interior are exquisite as they make their way in. She takes a deep breath before they come across the man of the day, welcoming everyone at the entrance. She has no doubt that the value of the artwork in this room totals her apartment and everything in it.

"Spencer." Rossi, supposably, greets him in a tight hug.

"This is my girlfriend, Y/n." Spencer introduces them.

As she expects, and as she was warned about by Spencer, Rossi pulls her in for a hug, immediately calming her nerves with his warm greeting. "It's so nice to meet you. This one won't stop talking about you." Rossi jokes, nodding at an increasingly reddening Spencer.

"It's nice to meet you too." She smiles. "Thank you for inviting me."

Rossi nods. "Of course, it's a pleasure."

And then the rest of the introductions begin. Everyone's so kind, like she expected. She's seen photos and heard stories but everyone seems to have more personality than he conveyed. She's quickly fast friends with Penelope and Tara who do their absolute best to make sure Y/n's feeling comfortable.

It's how she ends up being dragged onto the dance floor after the ceremony. Once the alcohol starts flowing, there's no more anxiousness left and some extroverted spirit has been brought out.

Spencer's not one to dance, but he's one to admire. Only Y/n, though. She looks angelic, despite the old-style dance moves.

He's so wrapped up in watching her that he doesn't register JJ's heels on the ground as she approaches him. It's only when she sits next to him that his head turns around to face her.

He waits for her to speak first. Hopefully, provide some explanation.

"Spencer." She says his name softly, almost like how he used to imagine she'd say it if they were together. Much to his surprise, she doesn't go into any detail about the bomb she'd dropped less than 24 hours ago. "I'm worried about you."

He doesn't hide his scoff. "Worried about me?" He repeats.

She goes for another tactic, trying not to get him mad. "You don't think you're rushing into this?"

"Rushing into what, Jennifer?" He spits back, snapping to anger. Using her first name drives the point home, almost unnecessarily when he sounds so angered.

"You know what I mean." She continues. "You've only been talking about her for a few weeks and now she's here."

He can't fathom that she'd suggest he's rushing into a relationship. He's been careful and deliberate, but Y/n's safe, and she's proved it time and time again.

"She's been part of my life for 6 months." Spencer fact-checks her. "And you said I seemed happier since I met her."

JJ stalls, regrouping before trying another angle. "She's just not what I expected. Is she really the type you should be with?"

"What does that mean?" Spencer states, more furious than ever. There's a chance he will fully snap at her and he wouldn't be sorry.

"I feel like you should be with someone extroverted." She suggests. "You know, someone to get you out of your shell."

Spencer needs a deep breath. "You're not being a good friend right now." He tells her much more calmly. There's not one thing he doesn't love about Y/n, whether she's more on the extroverted or introverted side."I'm going to marry her, whether you like it or not." It's not even what he expected to come out of his mouth.

"Spence-" JJ tries again to reason with him.

"No, don't you dare," Spencer says firmly. "You flew back and forth from New Orleans so many times to see Will, without telling us once and we were all accepting of your relationship. If you don't like my relationship, I don't care. But it's not too soon for me to know. We can talk about what you told me later, but for now, I'm going to dance with my girlfriend." Without another word, he gets up and walks off, leaving her a little gobsmacked.

Y/n frowns at him as he approaches the dance floor. "Are you okay?" She checks.

"More than okay," Spencer tells her with a soft smile.

"Dance with me then." She says, mirroring her smile and holding out her hand.

"I'd love to." He takes her hand just as a slow song comes on for them to sway together.

JJ gets ignored by him for the rest of the night, something unnoticed by Y/n but purposeful by Spencer. But it's fun. So much fun. And he's sure he wouldn't be having as much fun had Y/n not been there. She truly makes his day.

They're in the car later that night, parked near her apartment, ice cream eaten on the trip home. "I'm in love with you," Spencer admits when her laughter falls off after he tells a joke.

It's not a word they've said before.

Her expression is of pure shock, but joy quickly creeps in. "I'm in love with you too." She tells him, grinning.

And it's an entirely better confession than the one he heard 24 hours ago.

#spencer reid #criminal minds #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid x you #spencer reid x y/n #spencer reid x fem!reader #spencer reid fanfic #criminal minds fanfic

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orangeblossomsintheair · 30 days ago

Text

LIONHEART (1/3) – LN4

summary : lando’s anxious journey as a dad-to-be

wc : 11k

an : this fic is kind of the antithesis of my whole “casual blog” thing but we close our eyes!! not beta read and quite a mess. it’s also longer so i hope that’s okay :>

Lando had always been confident.

On the track, in the spotlight, with a helmet on his head and a steering wheel in his hands. But when you told him you were pregnant, all of that certainty evaporated in an instant.

He just stood there in the middle of your kitchen, staring at you as if you’d just announced you were moving to Mars.

“You’re joking,” he said after a beat, his voice higher than usual, almost squeaky.

“Why would I joke about this?” you replied, holding up the positive test, your own emotions a mix of excitement and nervousness.

He blinked, his aquamarine eyes wide with disbelief, before breaking into a grin so wide it could’ve lit up the whole room. “I’m going to be a dad?”

“Yes, Lando,” you said, trying not to laugh at how genuinely dumbfounded he looked.

“A dad?” he repeated, as though saying it louder would make it sink in faster.

“Yes, Lando,” you said again, this time laughing outright.

He crossed the room in two strides, pulling you into his arms and lifting you off your feet.

He spun you around with an uncontainable excitement, his hoodie brushing against your cheek as he held you tight.

“This is insane,” he mumbled into your hair. “We’re going to be parents!”

“Careful,” you said, swatting at him lightly as he set you down. “You don’t want to shake the baby loose already.”

“Oh, right,” he said, letting go and stepping back. His head jerked up as he processed your words, looking alarmed. “Wait, is that a thing? Can I- are you okay? Are we okay? Is the baby okay?”

You couldn’t help but laugh. “Lando, I found out like an hour ago. I’m pretty sure we’re fine.”

He paced the kitchen, running a hand through his curls as his grin came and went in waves. “A baby. We’re having a baby. Oh my God. Do you think it’s a boy or a girl?”

“I don’t know yet, Lando,” you said, sitting down on the couch to watch him spiral. “We’ll find out soon enough.”

“What if it’s twins?” he gasped, spinning around to face you. “Oh, I should call my mum. No, wait, too soon. We need to come up with a plan first. Have you eaten today? You need to eat. Should we go to a doctor? Ooh, they need to be a really good doctor if they’re handling my wife and baby. Should I buy baby books? Do people still read books, or do we just Google everything now?”

“Lando,” you said firmly, grabbing his hand to pull him to a stop. “Breathe.”

He took a deep breath, then exhaled slowly, nodding. “Right. Breathing. I can do that.”

He knelt down in front of you, his hands resting gently on your knees. “Sorry, I’m just… this is the biggest thing we’ve ever done.”

You smiled, brushing a curl out of his face. “It is. But we’ve got this, Lando.”

He leaned forward, resting his forehead against your belly, even though it wasn’t showing yet. “Hi in there,” he murmured, his voice soft and filled with wonder. “I’m your dad. I can’t promise I’ll always know what I’m doing, but I promise I’m going to love you more than anything in the world.”

—-

Lando had always been a man of routine– wake up, train, meetings, practice, race, repeat.

But preparing to be a dad? That was a whole different kind of race.

“I need a list,” he muttered one evening, pacing the living room while you sat on the couch, trying not to laugh. “No, like, several lists. One for baby stuff, one for the hospital bag, one for- what else do we need? Is there a book about this? Should I read a book?”

“Lando,” you interrupted gently, “you’re spiraling again.”

“I’m not spiraling! I’m… planning,” he countered, though the way he was raking his hand through his curls said otherwise. “We have to be ready, love. What if the baby comes early? What if I’m away for a race?”

You set aside the baby name book you were half-heartedly skimming and grabbed his hand, pulling him to sit beside you. “We’ll figure it out, okay? You’re doing great.”

He groaned, slumping against the couch. “Am I, though? I can barely keep my plants alive. How am I supposed to keep a tiny human alive?”

“First of all, I’m the one who keeps your plants alive,” you teased, earning a weak laugh from him. “And second, you’re going to be an amazing dad. You care so much already. It’s sweet.”

“But what if I miss something important?” he said, turning to you with wide, anxious eyes. “Like the first kick, or the first cry, or- or- what if you need me and I’m halfway across the world?”

You reached up to smooth his curls, trying to ease his tension. “Lando, you’ve already done so much. The private suite, rearranging your travel schedule to be here for every appointment… You’re balancing everything perfectly.”

—-

The next weekend, Lando was halfway across the world for a race.

He had tried to keep his focus on the track, but his mind kept drifting back to you, sitting at home with your feet propped up, texting him updates about every little thing- what you were craving, how you were feeling, and whether the baby had started kicking.

During a rare free afternoon between practice sessions, he found himself wandering into a bookstore. He had no real plan, he just knew he wanted to learn everything there was to know about being a dad.

The parenting section was tucked in a quiet corner of the shop, and as he stood there surrounded by shelves filled with brightly colored covers promising to teach him how to raise a baby, the weight of it all started to settle in.

At first, Lando was focused, scanning the titles with a determined expression. “The New Dad’s Guide to Baby Basics,” “How to Survive Your Baby’s First Year,” “Sleep Training 101.”

He picked up a few books, flipping through them as if the answers to all his worries might jump out at him.

He grabbed his phone, quickly dialing you.

“Hey, love,” he said, his voice soft and warm. “Quick question- do you think the baby’s gonna like white noise machines? Because this one book says they’re a lifesaver, but another one says they’re not necessary. And then there’s this other chapter about swaddling- do you know how to swaddle? Because I don’t.”

You laughed softly on the other end of the line. “Lando, you’re overthinking again. We’ve got months to figure this all out.”

“I know,” he sighed, running a hand through his curls. “I just… I want to be good at this. I want to be ready.”

And then, as he stood there in the middle of the bookstore, holding a stack of baby books, it hit him.

He was going to be a dad.

The thought wasn’t new. It had been there since the day you told him you were pregnant. But standing there, picturing your little family and the tiny person who was going to look up to him, rely on him, need him… it was overwhelming in the best way.

“Lando?” you said gently, pulling him back to the moment. “You okay?”

“Yeah,” he said, though his voice cracked a little. He cleared his throat, his free hand gripping the book tightly.

“I just-” He laughed nervously. “It’s a lot, you know? I mean, I’m going to be someone’s dad. That’s huge. What if I mess up? I’m practically a child!”

You smiled, wishing you could hug him through the phone. “You won’t mess up. You’re already doing amazing, and the baby’s not even here yet. You care so much, Lando. That’s what matters.”

He took a deep breath, letting your words sink in. “Thanks, love. I just… I want to do this right. For you. For them.”

“You will,” you reassured him. “And for the record, I think the baby’s going to love white noise machines and your ridiculous dad jokes.”

Lando chuckled, the tension in his chest easing slightly. “You think? Because I’ve already got a few saved up. Want to hear one?”

“No,” you teased, laughing. “Save them for when the baby’s old enough to groan at them.”

He grinned, his confidence slowly returning as he balanced the books in his arms. “Okay, okay. I’ll wait. But just so you know, they’re gold.”

After that call, Lando left the store with an armful of books and a heart that was a little fuller, a little steadier.

He still had moments of doubt, of wondering if he was truly ready for this massive change in his life.

But one thing he knew for sure- he couldn’t wait to meet the little person who was already changing his world.

—-

Even as Lando threw himself into preparation mode with the same energy he brought to a race weekend, scouring books and online articles about parenting, he still often got hilariously sidetracked by baby-related gadgets and gear.

“Did you know they make mini race suits for babies?” he asked one night, sprawled across the couch with his phone in hand, his eyes wide with excitement.

You glanced up from your own book, raising an eyebrow. “Lando, the baby’s not even born yet. Don’t you think it’s a little early for racing gear?”

“But imagine the photos!” he argued, sitting up and holding his phone out toward you like it was the discovery of the century.

On the screen was a tiny race suit in McLaren orange. “Our kid’s first photo: full McLaren merch. It’ll be iconic!”

You couldn’t help but laugh, shaking your head. “Iconic or not, I think diapers are going to be a bigger priority than race suits.”

“Why not both?” he shot back with a grin, already scrolling to find more baby-sized racing gear.

“Oh my god, look at this! miniature headphones for the paddock! Our baby could be sitting in the garage, looking like a proper little team member.”

“Lando,” you said, trying to sound serious but failing as a smile tugged at your lips, “our baby isn’t going to be born straight into a Formula 1 garage.”

He gasped dramatically, clutching his chest. “Blasphemy! Of course they are. It’s practically tradition.”

You rolled your eyes but couldn’t help feeling touched by his enthusiasm. He wasn’t just excited; he was genuinely looking forward to every part of being a dad, even the ridiculous ones.

That wasn’t to say there weren’t more.. unwise moments even with non-racing related baby items.

Like the time he came home from a race weekend with three identical diaper bags.

“Lando,” you said, holding one up. “Why do we need three of these?”

“They’re different brands,” he explained, looking genuinely confused as to why you were asking. “What if one of them is better? Or has more pockets?”

“Pockets?”

“Yeah! Babies need a lot of stuff, right? I saw a mom at the airport with one of these, and she looked like she had her life together. I want you to have your life together too.”

You burst out laughing, and he groaned, burying his face in his hands. “Stop laughing! I’m trying to be prepared!”

“You’re overprepared,” you said, setting the bags down and walking over to wrap your arms around him. “But that’s why I love you.”

But it also wasn’t all fun and games.

Lando was determined to be as supportive as possible, especially when it came to your comfort. He took “protective husband” to a whole new level during your first trimester, hovering like an overzealous pit crew.

“Lando, I can still carry my own bag,” you told him one morning as he practically wrestled your tote out of your hands.

“Nope,” he said firmly, slinging it over his shoulder like it was his new personal mission. “You’re carrying our future world champion. I’ve got this.”

You laughed, shaking your head. “It’s a tote bag, not a tire. I think I can manage.”

“Well, I’m not taking any chances,” he replied, puffing out his chest dramatically. “What kind of dad would I be if I let you strain yourself this early?”

“A sane one?” you teased.

He huffed, clutching the bag like it was a trophy. “I’ll ignore that slander. Now, where’s your water bottle? And your snacks? Have you eaten? Do you need to sit down?”

You groaned, rolling your eyes. “Lando, I’m fine. You don’t need to act like I’m about to collapse any second.”

“Not on my watch,” he declared, marching ahead of you with your bag.

“Do you even know how many articles I’ve read about pregnancy? You’re supposed to avoid heavy lifting, stay hydrated, and-”

“-and avoid stress,” you interrupted, smirking. “Which you’re causing right now with all this hovering.”

“I’m helping,” he corrected, spinning around to face you with a determined look. “And besides, you’d thank me if you saw the kind of stuff I’ve been reading. Did you know some women crave chalk during pregnancy? Chalk! What if that happens to you? I need to be prepared!”

“Lando, I’m not craving chalk,” you said, trying not to laugh.

“Not yet,” he countered, narrowing his eyes like it was only a matter of time. “But when you do, I’ll be ready with… I don’t know, chalk alternatives or something.”

“Is that what you’ve been doing on your phone? Researching chalk alternatives?”

“Among other things,” he said with a shrug, completely serious.

“Did you know we might need a whole new mattress? Pregnant people need optimal support. And I saw this thing about belly bands. Do you want one? I can order it right now. Oh! And don’t even get me started on prenatal yoga-”

You reached out to grab his arm, laughing. “Okay, slow down, Mr. Norris. You’re going to give yourself a stress rash before we even get to the second trimester.”

He looked at you sheepishly, his determination softening into a shy smile. “I just… I want to do this right, you know? I’ve never done this before.”

You softened, cupping his cheek. “I know, love. And you’re doing amazing. But you don’t have to do everything perfectly. Just… be here. That’s all I need.”

His shoulders relaxed a little, and he leaned into your touch. “Okay,” he murmured.

Then, after a beat: “But I’m still carrying the bag.”

“Of course you are,” you said, shaking your head as he flashed you that trademark cheeky grin.

From then on, Lando took his role as your personal assistant very seriously. He stocked the fridge with all your favorite snacks, some of which you hadn’t even asked for.

“I saw this article about pickles and peanut butter,” he said one day, holding up a jar. “Do you think you’ll want to try it? Should I get bread?”

“You’re the one who’s going to end up eating it,” you teased.

And when it came to appointments, he was like a man on a mission. He set reminders, packed snacks for the waiting room, and even insisted on bringing a notebook to jot down questions.

“I don’t want to forget anything important,” he said, scribbling furiously while the doctor explained prenatal vitamins.

“You’re going to end up with a full-on pregnancy thesis,” you joked.

“Good,” he replied, deadpan.

“Because I need to know everything.”

He was equal parts adorable and exhausting, but one thing was clear: Lando was already the most devoted dad-to-be you could have asked for.

��-

Lando insisted on attending every single doctor’s appointment, even if it meant rearranging his training schedule or skipping a media event.

He didn’t care what he had to move around, he was going to be there.

Your husband had always been incredibly aware of his public image, and he knew his absence in a lot of McLaren PR videos was beginning to be noticed.

The whispers started subtly at first, just a few fans commenting on his social media posts, wondering why he wasn’t posting as frequently, why he wasn’t sharing his usual behind-the-scenes content.

But over time, it started to get louder. On Twitter, the rumors spread like wildfire.

Fans questioning his commitment to racing, accusing him of not showing up enough for the sport.

He couldn’t give a damn, to be honest.

“I don’t want to miss anything,” he told you one day as you both waited in the ultrasound room.

He was fidgeting with the strap of his McLaren cap, spinning it around in his hands like it was the only thing grounding him.

“What if they show us something important, like the baby’s heartbeat, and I’m not here? I’d never forgive myself.”

“You’ll see everything,” you assured him, lacing your fingers with his and giving his hand a squeeze. “I promise you won’t miss a thing.”

He exhaled deeply but didn’t stop fidgeting. “Do you think they’re okay? Like, really okay? What if the baby’s too small? What if-”

“Lando,” you interrupted gently, giving him a pointed look. “Breathe. Everything’s fine. You’re panicking for nothing.”

He let out a nervous laugh, scratching the back of his neck. “Sorry, I just... I’ve never been this nervous before. Not even before my first race.”

When the ultrasound tech finally entered the room and began the scan, Lando nearly jumped out of his seat.

He leaned forward, his eyes glued to the screen, his hand clutching yours like it was a lifeline.

“Alright,” the tech said with a kind smile, turning the screen toward you both. “Here’s your baby.”

Lando froze, his eyes wide as the faint image of your baby appeared on the monitor. “That’s… them?” he whispered, his voice barely audible.

“That’s them,” the tech confirmed, moving the wand slightly. “And if you look right here, you’ll see their heartbeat.”

She pointed to a tiny flicker on the screen, and Lando’s breath caught. “Is that… Is that their heart?”

“Yes,” she said warmly. “That’s your baby’s heartbeat.”

Lando’s eyes immediately welled up with tears. He blinked rapidly, clearly trying to keep them from falling, but one slipped down his cheek anyway.

“Oh my God,” he whispered, his voice cracking. “That’s them. That’s our baby.”

You reached up to wipe the tear from his cheek, your own eyes misty. “They’re perfect, aren’t they?”

“They are,” he said, his voice full of awe.

Then he turned to you with the biggest grin you’d ever seen, his face lighting up like a kid on Christmas morning. “They’ve already got your heart, don’t they?”

“And yours,” you added softly, squeezing his hand.

Lando laughed quietly, his free hand running through his hair. “This is insane. Like, actually insane. That’s a real human. Our human. I don’t even know what to say.”

“You don’t have to say anything,” you replied, smiling at him. “Just feel it.”

He nodded, his gaze drifting back to the screen. “They’re so small,” he murmured, almost to himself. Then he let out a shaky laugh.

“God, I hope they get your patience. And your smarts. And maybe your taste in music too, because mine’s questionable at best.”

“They’ll be a little bit of both of us,” you said. “The good and the bad.”

“And hopefully less of the bad,” he joked, his smile growing wider. “Although if they’re anything like me, they’ll probably be a little naughty regardless.”

He spent a few moments just staring in silent awe of the ultrasound before leaning over and pressing a kiss to your temple. “We’re going to be okay, aren’t we?”

You nodded, resting your head against his shoulder. “More than okay, Lando. We’re going to be great.”

For the rest of the appointment, Lando couldn’t stop staring at the monitor.

He asked the tech at least three times if he could get extra printouts of the ultrasound, and as soon as you left the room, he was texting the photo to his parents.

“You won’t believe this,” he said excitedly as he hit send. “They’re already perfect. I mean, look at them!”

You laughed, shaking your head at his enthusiasm. “You’re going to be insufferable, aren’t you?”

“Absolutely,” he replied with a grin, slipping the ultrasound photo into his wallet like it was his most prized possession.

—-

Lando stood in the kitchen, pacing around the table with the cake in front of him.

His hands were a blur, adjusting every little decoration as if this one cake would determine the future of the entire Norris family.

He wiped his brow for what felt like the tenth time, clearly worked up.

“You’re sure you’re okay with this?” Lando asked again, his voice laced with nerves, as he fiddled with the tiny blue and pink ribbons on top of the cake.

You raised an eyebrow, watching him with a grin. “Lando, it’s just cake. I don’t need a fireworks show or a parade. Just let me eat it. We’re finding out if we’re having a mini-me or mini-you today, not the cure for world hunger.”

He looked at you, eyes wide with mock concern. “I know! But this is important, okay? This cake isn’t just cake. It’s the cake that’s gonna reveal if our baby’s gonna have my style or your... I don’t know, your taste in TV shows.”

You couldn’t help but laugh. “Oh, so my TV shows are the problem now? I seem to remember you binge-watching those ridiculous reality shows last week.”

Lando chuckled, adjusting the cake for the third time. “Fine. But I will not apologize for the occasional guilty pleasure, okay?”

Before you could fire back, there was a knock at the door, and Lando’s parents stormed in, as excited as ever, clearly eager to be part of the big reveal.

His mom was practically jumping up and down, already holding a bottle of champagne in one hand.

“Alright, alright, we ready for this?!” she practically shouted, already bouncing on the balls of her feet. “Lando, you didn’t mess up the cake, did you?”

Lando puffed out his chest, trying to seem cool, but you could tell he was as jittery as a kid before Christmas. “What do you think? I’m a pro. I’ve got this under control.”

His dad leaned in and clapped him on the back with a knowing look. “Sure, sure. It’s just cake, son. Don’t overthink it.”

“Easy for you to say!” Lando replied, rolling his eyes but clearly taking comfort in his dad’s easy confidence.

“Do I need to set up a tent or something for you? I can go grab the calm-down snacks,” his mom teased, already rifling through the bags of baby gifts she had brought with her.

Lando gave her a playful glare. “I’m fine, Mom. I’m just...you know, a little excited.”

He turned back to the cake, brushing his hands against his jeans as if trying to shake off his nerves. “Right. Big moment.”

You crossed your arms, trying to stifle your laughter at the drama of it all. “You know, you’re acting like you’re about to drive the final lap of a Grand Prix, not slice a cake, right?”

Lando shot you a look, half guilty, half defensive. “What do you mean? This is important, okay?”

“Yeah, because the world is watching,” you quipped, leaning against the counter with a grin.

“Absolutely! What if the cake doesn’t come out perfectly? What if it’s not the right color? What if-”

“Lando,” you interrupted with a chuckle, “I’m pretty sure it’ll be okay if it’s not perfect. It’s just a cake.”

He sighed dramatically. “You don’t get it. This is a moment. A huge one! I can’t mess this up.”

(Lando’s parents exchanged amused glances. “He’s got it bad, huh?” his dad whispered to his mom.

“Oh, you don’t even know,” she replied with a wink.)

“You’re really sure you’re not panicking?” you teased, nudging him, raising an eyebrow.

Lando flashed you a grin. “Nope. I’ve totally got it handled. This is the most important moment of our lives, and I’m... handling it.”

The room filled up with laughter and chatter as family and friends settled into their spots, everyone eager to be a part of the big moment.

The cake, a simple vanilla sponge with soft pastel decorations, sat in front of you all like a ticking clock. Lando’s hands hovered above it, shaking slightly as he gripped the knife.

You placed a reassuring hand on his shoulder. “Lando, it’s going to be fine.”

He gave you a nervous smile. “Yeah, I know. I’m just- just a little excited.”

He cut the first slice carefully, holding his breath. His eyes darted between the cake and you, trying to gauge the moment, the color, the reaction.

“Is it-” Lando’s mom leaned forward, eager and almost bouncing in her seat. “Is it blue or pink?”

When Lando saw the blue filling spill out from the cake, it was like a switch flipped inside him.

His hands trembled for a moment, and then, without warning, his lips curled into a grin so wide it could have lit up the whole room.

He threw his arms up in the air, as if he’d just crossed the finish line, his chest puffing out like he’d just clinched a Grand Prix victory.

“YES!” he yelled, his voice carrying the excitement and relief of a race win. He even did a little fist pump, completely caught up in the moment, forgetting the cake still had to be served.

His family burst into laughter, but Lando didn't care. He was riding high on the adrenaline of the moment, his face flushed with joy. He turned to you, eyes wide and sparkling, as if the world had just handed him the greatest trophy imaginable.

“I’ve got a son! A SON! I’m gonna be a dad to a little boy!” he exclaimed, his voice rising in a playful tone, as if he was addressing a crowd at a podium.

“Lando, you’re not actually racing a Grand Prix right now,” you said, your laughter shaking your voice. “You don’t need to act like you just won Monaco!”

Lando paused for a split second, still grinning like a Cheshire cat. “Oh, but I am! This is my Monaco moment!”

—-

Before your son arrived, the two of you spent countless hours brainstorming names, debating, and laughing at your ideas, the excitement of becoming parents finally hitting both of you.

You sat on the couch in the private suite, your legs curled up underneath you as you flicked through baby name books.

Lando, sprawled beside you with his laptop open, occasionally paused to glance at you, a goofy grin on his face.

“You know what would be funny?” Lando said, his eyes lighting up. “If we named him after a race track. Like, Monaco or Spa.”

You raised an eyebrow, amused but skeptical. “Monaco? Really? We’re naming our kid after a place?”

Lando shrugged with a playful grin. “It’s iconic. Imagine saying, ‘This is my son, Spa Norris.’ Sounds like he’s destined to be a Formula 1 champion, right?”

You laughed, shaking your head. “Yeah, that’s not going to fly. I’m not going to name our son after a race track, Lando.”

He pouted, pretending to be disappointed. “You’re no fun. I thought you’d be into it.”

You shot him a playful look. “Well, if you’re going to go that route, we might as well name him something like 'Aston' or 'Ferrari'.”

Lando dramatically gasped. “Ferrari Norris?” he echoed, as if he’d just had an epiphany. “That actually sounds pretty cool.” He immediately began typing it into his phone. “Imagine the headlines: ‘Little Ferrari Norris shows up at the karting track, stealing the show already.’”

You chuckled, giving him a teasing nudge. “Okay, okay. Let’s put a pin in that one, but seriously, we need something that isn’t a car or a race track. We need to think long-term. He’s not going to be five years old forever.”

Lando sat back, tapping his fingers on the side of his laptop, deep in thought. “How about Maximus? It sounds strong, right?”

You gave him a flat look. “You realize that would just end up as Max, and then we’d have to deal with every comparison to Verstappen and Max, right?”

Lando’s eyes widened slightly as you pointed out the potential issue. He paused, tapping his fingers on the laptop as he processed your words.

“Oh, right,” he said slowly, running a hand through his hair. “Maximus could be a disaster. Imagine our kid being called Max every time. He’ll spend his whole life being compared to Verstappen, and Max.”

You raised an eyebrow. “Yeah, not ideal. We’re already in the spotlight enough with you and everything, we don’t need to add fuel to the fire.”

Lando groaned, slouching slightly in his chair. “Okay, so no Maximus. What about... Thor? Sounds strong, right? A god or something.”

You blinked, trying to keep a straight face. “Lando, we're naming our kid, not preparing him for a Marvel movie.”

“I’m just saying,” he grinned, holding his hands up in mock defense. “Thor Norris. Sounds pretty cool, right? Imagine him on the playground.”

“Yeah, until he gets bullied for being named after a thunder god,” you replied with a teasing smile. “We want a name that’s strong, but also, you know, normal.”

Lando sighed dramatically, rubbing his temples. “Why is this so hard? This is supposed to be the fun part!”

“Because you're overthinking it,” you said, leaning over to ruffle his hair. “We don't need to make him sound like a superhero. We need something that suits him, something that feels right.”

Lando scrolled through a few more names on his phone. “What about Leo? You know, like the lion?”

You looked over at him, a thoughtful expression crossing your face. “Leo.. huh, I kind of like that.”

Lando met your gaze, his smile softening. “I do too. It feels strong. But it’s also… warm. I can imagine him growing up with that name.”

You smiled, already picturing your son, little Leo, chasing after you both in a go-kart, or laughing as he wore his tiny McLaren onesie.

“I think that’s the one,” you said softly, your heart warming at the thought of it.

Lando nodded, his voice quieter now. “Leo Norris. Yeah… I like it.”

You both sat there for a while, soaking in the reality that soon, you’d have a little one to love and raise.

A mix of excitement and nervous energy filled the air. But above it all, you both felt the quiet, comforting certainty that you’d chosen the right name.

“Leo Norris,” Lando repeated, his grin returning. “You’re going to be so cool, little guy.”

—-

By the time the baby’s due date was right around the corner, Lando had practically perfected the art of juggling his high-pressure career with impending fatherhood.

He FaceTimed you every chance he got during race weekends, even if it was just for a few minutes, to check in and ask how you and the baby were doing.

Every call was an opportunity for him to make silly faces at your growing belly, as if your unborn child could already understand what he was doing.

“How’s my little team doing today?” Lando asked, his face beaming from the screen, grinning like a kid with a secret.

You raised an eyebrow. “What do you mean, ‘little team’? It’s still just one person, you know.”

He paused, holding his hands up as though giving you a game plan. “It’s all about the future, babe. Right now, it’s just me and you, but soon, we’re gonna have our first real team member. And I’m gonna be the best team principal there ever was.” He winked, clearly enjoying the idea.

You couldn’t help but laugh. “Uh-huh. Sure. First, you have to figure out how to change a diaper before you’re giving out performance reviews.”

Lando's grin faded slightly, and his expression became more serious. “I can change a tire under pressure, but... a diaper? You’re sure I’m gonna be okay with that?”

You rolled your eyes playfully. “You’ve changed car tires with a stopwatch ticking down. A diaper is like... one percent of the stress.”

Lando scratched his head, clearly still not totally convinced. “Yeah, but there’s a lot more wiggle with a baby than with a tire.”

You chuckled, hearing the nerves in his voice despite his usual cocky demeanor. “I’m sure you’ll manage. You’re gonna be a great dad. Besides, how bad can it be? Worst-case scenario, we just put him in a McLaren onesie and call it a day.”

Lando’s eyes lit up. “Wait, does McLaren make baby clothes?” he asked, suddenly distracted, pulling out his phone.

You sighed, trying not to laugh. “Focus, Lando, the baby comes first, not McLaren merch.”

But he didn’t hear you.

He was too busy scrolling through his phone, searching for baby-sized McLaren gear. “Just imagine! Tiny little race suits! Our kid’s first proper race suit! It’ll be legendary*”

You smirked. “Right, because that’s all a baby needs, to be decked out in McLaren gear. A future world champion and fashion icon.”

Lando nodded seriously, still scrolling. “Exactly. The sooner they start looking the part, the sooner they’ll feel the pressure to deliver.”

You shook your head, your lips curving into a smile. “You’re definitely going to spoil this kid rotten.”

“I’m just preparing them for greatness!” Lando declared, his voice mock-serious. “Besides, they’re going to have someone to look up to.”

You laughed, a soft teasing tone in your voice. “You mean you? The guy who keeps asking me if he’ll be cool enough for a toddler?”

Lando looked at you, eyebrows furrowing with mock panic. “I just want them to think I’m cool, okay? What if they’re disappointed? What if they grow up to think I’m just some guy who drives a car really fast and wears too many McLaren hats?”

You snorted, not even trying to hide your amusement. “Lando, you drive a Formula 1 car for a living. I think you’ll manage to impress a toddler.”

“Yeah, well, toddlers are tough critics,” he muttered, flopping back onto his bed. “What if they want a cooler dad? Like, what if they see some famous soccer player or something and think he’s way cooler than their dad?”

“Lando, the kid isn’t even born yet, and you’re already stressing about being the coolest parent?” You shook your head, trying to hold back laughter. “Relax. You’re gonna be the coolest dad, hands down.”

“You really think so?” Lando asked, his tone suddenly turning sincere, a soft smile curling his lips.

“Absolutely,” you replied, your voice full of confidence. “You’re gonna be amazing. And anyway, when they get older, they'll think you're the coolest just because you drive an F1 car. That’s literally a dream job for kids.”

Lando smiled at you through the screen, clearly reassured. “Alright, alright. I can live with that.” He paused for a moment, his

“I’m gonna train them up. Baby steps, right? First, it’s McLaren onesies. Then, they’ll be driving go-karts by five.”

You rolled your eyes, laughing. “I think you’ve got a few years before that happens, buddy.”

—-

Lando had been pacing the living room for what felt like hours, his hands in his hair and his bottom lip caught between his teeth.

You watched him from the couch, amused by how obviously he was working up the courage to say something.

Finally, unable to take his fidgeting any longer, you set your book down and raised an eyebrow at him.

“Alright, spill it,” you said, crossing your arms.

He stopped pacing, turning to you with a sheepish grin. “Okay, don’t get mad, but… can I tell Carlos?”

You blinked at him, confused. “Tell Carlos what?”

“The baby!” Lando blurted, throwing his hands in the air. “I swear I won’t say anything to anyone else, but I feel like I’m going to burst if I don’t tell someone. And Carlos, he’s my best mate in the paddock, you know? and I feel like I’m going to burst if I don’t tell someone. He’s good at keeping secrets! Remember when I told him about… well, you know…”

You smirked. “The time you accidentally spilled coffee all over Zak’s favorite race notes and blamed the wind?”

Lando groaned, running a hand through his curls. “Yes, that! He didn’t tell anyone!”

He leaned in closer, his big, pleading eyes locking onto yours. “Please, love. I need someone to talk to about this in the paddock. I promise it’ll stay between me and him. And you, of course. You’re the boss.”

“You’re ridiculous,” you said, shaking your head with a smile.

“But adorable?” he pressed, grinning mischievously.

You laughed, shaking your head at his antics. “Alright, alright. You can tell Carlos. But only Carlos. If I see headlines about ‘Baby Norris’ next week, I’m blaming you.”

Lando let out a victorious whoop, throwing his arms around you and pressing a kiss to your cheek. “You won’t regret this, I promise! I’ll handle it perfectly.”

“Uh-huh,” you teased. “Just don’t come crying to me if he accidentally tells the entire grid.”

“He won’t!” Lando assured you, already pulling out his phone. “Now, if you’ll excuse me, I have a Spaniard to swear into secrecy.”

—-

Lando, despite his enthusiasm around friends and family, had always been the type to keep his personal life as far away from the media as possible, especially when it came to you and your pregnancy.

He’d pulled you aside earlier on, his brow furrowed in a mix of excitement and concern.

“I just want to protect you from all that stress, love,” he’d said softly, his hands resting on your shoulders. “The media’s only gonna make everything harder. Let’s keep it to ourselves and family and friends until we’re ready.”

You’d agreed, knowing his intention was to shield you from any unnecessary pressure.

So, you kept things under wraps, avoiding public appearances and letting Lando handle the media while you focused on your health and well-being.

But as your pregnancy progressed and your bump started to show, it became harder to stay out of the public eye.

At first, you’d manage to sneak in a few appearances, sitting in the background, away from the cameras. But soon, you started pulling back even more, skipping races altogether. The tabloids, however, didn’t miss a beat.

Lando was pacing back and forth in your living room, muttering to himself as he read through the latest batch of articles about him and your supposed divorce.

You could practically see the frustration building in him. He was giving off full-on whiny vibes, and you couldn't help but smirk at how ridiculous the whole thing seemed.

“I swear, they’ve completely lost their minds!” Lando groaned, throwing his phone down onto the couch with a dramatic flair. “What do they mean we’re getting divorced? Have they seen you? Why would I ever, ever, let you go?”

You leaned back on the couch, trying to keep your composure as he began pacing again. “Lando, calm down. It’s just the media. They love making stuff up.”

“No, it’s not just the media!” he whined, stopping mid-pacing to stare at you. “This is serious! They think I’m out here with a divorce like that’s even a thing. I’m happily married! You’re at home growing our kid, not plotting some dramatic breakup!”

You tried to hold back your laugh, but Lando’s whining was getting funnier by the second. “Babe, seriously, it’s not the end of the world. You’re acting like the tabloids are going to come for us with pitchforks.”

“I’m just-” He paused, running his hands through his hair like he was about to pull it out.

“I’m just trying to figure out how they got this idea. I’m not... like, I’m not perfect, but come on! Look at you! You’re gorgeous, and we’re over here living our best life, why would I ever let you go?”

You grinned, giving him a teasing side-eye. “Aww, are you saying I’m too good for you?”

Lando froze, turning to you with wide eyes. “No! I mean, yes, but no!” He huffed dramatically, flopping down onto the couch next to you. “You’re perfect! You’re the perfect wife! And you’re the one who makes everything better, and now they’re out here saying I’m getting divorced? No! That’s not how this works!”

You reached over, resting your hand on his, trying to hold back your own laughter. “Lando, babe, it’s just rumors. People are bored. They don’t know anything, and they’re making stuff up. Just ignore it.”

He looked at you like you’d just suggested the impossible.

“Ignore it? How am I supposed to ignore this? They’re making me look like the worst husband in the world! Divorce? I’ve been married for, like, what, five minutes? And now I’m already getting a bad rep? This is ridiculous!”

You snorted, finally giving in to the humor of the situation. “Okay, okay, so how are you planning to fix it? Go out there and shout from the rooftops?”

Lando sighed heavily, clearly still upset. “I don’t know! Maybe I should just do an entire press conference. ‘Hello, everyone, just in case there was any doubt, I’m not divorced! I’m happily married! And I’m going home to my gorgeous wife and our baby, who will totally not grow up to be a Formula 1 driver, I promise.’”

You couldn’t stop laughing now. “Babe, just post a picture of us and say ‘Still happily married’ that’ll do the trick.”

Lando groaned in frustration. “But why do I have to do that? Why can’t people just know? It’s like they’ve forgotten what happiness looks like. They’re just out here making up stories!”

You patted his leg, smiling fondly at him. “You’re cute when you get worked up, you know that?”

He shot you a look. “I’m serious! This is outrageous. I swear, if I see one more headline about our ‘divorce,’ I’m gonna lose it.”

“Alright, alright,” you said, leaning over to kiss his cheek. “Calm down. It’s just noise. We know what’s real.”

Lando pouted, crossing his arms over his chest. “I’m not a fan of this noise. It’s too much, and I just want to be left alone to focus on being an amazing husband and father. Is that too much to ask?”

You smiled, giving him a reassuring squeeze. “No, love. It’s not too much to ask. But maybe, just maybe, try to ignore the headlines for once?”

He sighed dramatically. “Fine. I’ll try. But if they start talking about me again... I’m calling a press conference.”

—-

Lando had just finished a grueling race, his face flushed with exertion but still carrying that unmistakable grin.

He was on cloud nine, but he could already sense the usual flood of media around him. It was never just about the race with him, it was always about something else, something personal.

As he was making his way to the interview zone, one journalist, eager to get the scoop, stepped in front of him with a grin.

“Lando, congratulations on the win! How’s everything going with your wife? We’ve heard a lot of speculation recently, some rumors flying around about your relationship. Can you clear that up for us?”

Lando froze mid-step, his brow furrowing. The questions about his relationship with you had been relentless recently, but this, this was the last straw.

The media had taken their guesses and spun them into wild stories. He had kept quiet for as long as possible, but today, something inside him snapped.

“Rumors?” Lando repeated, voice low but filled with frustration.

He glanced over at his PR team, who were silently freaking out in the background, and then he turned back to the reporter, a small, sarcastic smirk pulling at his lips. “Yeah, here’s the thing.”

He paused, taking a deep breath. His hands were shaking from the adrenaline of the race, but his eyes were laser-focused on the reporter.

“Here’s the thing,” Lando said again, this time louder, looking directly into the camera, “I’m going to give a shout-out to my beautiful wife right now, and to hell with everyone else. To all the tabloids, the rumors, and the people making things up… fuck you. I love my wife. She’s amazing. We’re happy. Now, can we get back to the racing?”

Lando’s eyes burned with a mixture of frustration and determination as he stood there, refusing to back down.

The crowd of reporters and cameras around him seemed to freeze for a moment, unsure of how to react to his sudden outburst.

“Seriously,” he continued, his voice steadier now, but still tinged with that raw intensity, “I’ve kept quiet for as long as I can. I get it, you want the drama, you want the headlines.”

He glanced around at the sea of microphones pointed at him, his gaze intense. The silence hung heavy in the air, broken only by the hum of distant chatter.

“But I’m here to race,” he added, his jaw clenched. “So, let me make it clear. My wife and I are doing great. I’m not hiding anything from anyone. The only thing I’m focused on is the fact that I just finished on a podium position, and that's what matters.”

For a moment, he allowed himself to breathe, his chest still rising and falling from the aftershocks of the race and the adrenaline of the moment.

The reporter, still holding the microphone, looked almost shocked by Lando’s outburst, but before they could get another word in, Lando raised his hand, cutting them off.

“I’ve had enough,” he said firmly. “So here’s the deal. To everyone who wants to keep spreading rumors or digging into our lives. Don’t. And to my wife, if you’re watching this, I love you. You’re incredible.”

There was a brief moment of silence, and then, with a final glance at the camera, Lando broke into a grin.

“And now, if you’ll excuse me, I’ve got a celebration to get to. See you at the next race.”

With that, he turned, walking away from the reporters, leaving them dumbfounded and speechless. His PR team scrambled behind him, clearly trying to catch up and figure out how to spin this into something less... explosive, but Lando wasn’t having it.

He was done with the noise, done with the rumors. And if the media wanted a story, they could have that one because he wasn’t hiding his love for you, and he wasn’t going to let anyone tell a different story.

Back in the paddock, as he made his way toward the celebration, he pulled out his phone, sending you a quick text: “Hey, I may have just lost my cool on live TV but don’t worry, it was for you. Love you always 🧡”

As soon as the text sent, Lando couldn’t help but laugh at the absurdity of it all.

—-

When you saw the text pop up on your phone, you blinked at it for a moment, reading it over a few times to make sure you weren’t misinterpreting things.

You didn’t have a chance to misinterpret anything when you were bombarded by videos of Lando’s recent stunt by your friends and family.

You froze.

The sheer audacity of him, of his love for you, left you speechless for a moment.

Of course, Lando had always been passionate, always been the kind of person who wasn’t afraid to stand up for what mattered to him. But this?

This was a whole other level. You couldn’t help but let out a laugh, a combination of shock and amusement.

You immediately hit the video call button, your heart racing.

When his face appeared on the screen, he was still beaming with that grin he wore after a good race, sweaty, glowing, and impossibly handsome.

But then, his eyes widened when he saw the expression on your face.

“What?” he asked, still out of breath from the race, his grin fading a little. “Why are you looking at me like that?”

You couldn’t help yourself. “Lando Norris,” you began, trying to keep your voice steady, “did you just… tell everyone to fuck off on live TV?!”

His eyes grew comically wide, and he immediately slapped a hand to his forehead, groaning dramatically as if he was ashamed of his actions. “I swear I didn’t mean to-”

“Oh, you didn’t mean to?!” you interrupted, laughing uncontrollably, clutching your stomach from how hard you were giggling. “Lando, that was literally a full-on ‘fuck you’ to the media! And you said it was for me?!”

He flushed, sheepish but still trying to hide his growing smile. “Look, okay, I was just- uh- tired of the rumors, alright? And when they asked about you- about us- I just kind of... lost it. I wasn’t thinking. I just wanted to make sure they all knew how much I love you. How happy we are.”

“Oh, I’m sure,” you said, still laughing, wiping a tear from your eye. “You’re really doing a great job of showing that. It was the most Lando Norris thing you could’ve done!”

Lando leaned back against the wall, clearly embarrassed but still that familiar, playful Lando you knew and loved. “I didn’t think it’d go that far,” he muttered, but then his grin returned. “But you know what? Fuck it. They can say what they want.”

You let out a breath, finally calming down, though you were still grinning. “You are such a dork,” you said, shaking your head with affection. “But I love you for it. Seriously. I never thought I’d be watching you on TV yelling at the media like that.”

He puffed out his chest, doing a little dramatic bow. “What can I say? I’m just a man in love.”

“I’m starting to think you’re also a man who has no filter,” you teased, leaning in closer to the screen. “But I can’t deny, it’s kind of… hot.”

Lando’s cheeks flushed at that, and he let out a chuckle. “Oh, now you’re really making me blush. I can’t believe I just did that...”

“You definitely made a statement,” you said, the smile still playing on your lips. “The whole world now knows you’re not just a great driver- you're a very passionate husband, apparently. Also, good luck with your PR team after that one.”

“Oh, they’re probably freaking out right now,” Lando said with a knowing grin. “But hey, at least I got to make things clear.”

You paused for a moment, letting his words settle. “You know what, Lando? I really appreciate it. I know the media can be overwhelming, and I’m glad you’re doing what you can to protect us, even if it means embarrassing yourself a little. But just... maybe next time? You could, I don’t know, use a little less profanity?”

“Right,” he said, nodding seriously. “Next time, I’ll scream it in sign language. Less dramatic, more subtle.”

You rolled your eyes, but your heart swelled with affection. “You’re impossible.”

“I know,” he grinned. “But I’m your impossible.”

—-

When the end of the racing season finally rolled around, Lando could hardly contain his excitement.

The grueling months of races, travel, and endless media commitments were finally over, and he was about to have a few weeks of uninterrupted time with you and the baby.

The weight of the season had been heavy, and now that it was over, he felt like he could breathe again, and it felt amazing.

For weeks leading up to the last race, Lando had been counting down the days.

The moment he heard the announcement that the season was officially over, his excitement bubbled over. He was practically buzzing with anticipation, his usual calm and collected persona giving way to a wide, ear-to-ear grin.

It was as if the pressure of racing and all the responsibilities had just melted away, and he was ready to dive straight into a new kind of excitement, one that involved a lot more time at home with you.

You were sitting on the couch, relaxing after your own busy day, scrolling through your phone, when you heard the familiar sound of

Lando’s boots hitting the floor. He was almost running, and his footsteps were light and fast, as if he couldn’t wait to see you.

“Babe!” he shouted, throwing his bag down with abandon, his voice practically singing with happiness.

Without a second thought, he rushed over to where you were sitting, scooping you up into his arms like you weighed nothing at all. He spun you around once, a burst of laughter escaping his lips.

“I’m home, I’m home, I’m home!” he repeated, his grin so wide it almost seemed to stretch across his face.

You couldn’t help but laugh as his excitement flooded the room, feeling the warmth of his embrace. "Well, I can tell you’re happy about the season being over," you teased, giving him a playful look as you wrapped your arms around his neck.

“I’m more than happy,” he replied, his eyes sparkling with joy. “I’m ecstatic. Finally, a break. No planes, no races, no media, just me, you, and... well, you know, our little one,” he added, glancing down at your belly with a soft smile.

“Sounds perfect,” you said, feeling the love in his words. “I think we both deserve a break.”

Lando nodded enthusiastically. “I can’t wait to just be home with you. I’ve missed so much of this year, and now I get to make up for it. I’ve got so many plans. We can do all the things we’ve been talking about, prepare the nursery, take walks together, have breakfast in bed, watch terrible movies... you know, all the usual relaxing stuff.”

You raised an eyebrow, amused by his enthusiasm. “Breakfast in bed every day, huh? That’s a bold claim.”

“I’m up for the challenge,” he grinned, a playful glint in his eyes. “I’m making the most of this time. No more rushing around, no more stress. Just time with you, our little one, and whatever chaos we manage to create together.”

He flopped down onto the couch beside you, pulling you in closer. His hand found its way to your growing belly, and he couldn’t wipe the smile off his face as he gently placed his hand there. “I’m so ready for this next chapter, you know? I know the last few months have been crazy, but this... this is going to be perfect.”

—-

Lando stood in the middle of the nearly-finished nursery, hands on his hips, looking ridiculously proud of himself. The room was stunning.

Soft, neutral tones, sleek furniture that didn’t scream “baby” but still felt warm and inviting, and subtle touches of personality like a tiny McLaren-themed mobile hanging above the crib.

“You know,” he said, turning to you with a grin, “I think I’ve outdone myself. Custom everything. No IKEA in sight. You’re welcome.”

You raised an eyebrow from where you were sitting on the plush nursery chair he’d insisted be upholstered with "only the softest fabric money can buy."

“You do realize you’ve spent more on this room than most people spend on their entire house, right?”

He shot you a mock-offended look. “Excuse me for wanting the best for our baby. It’s called quality assurance.”

He scoffed, gesturing at the solid oak crib. “This bad boy? Handmade by some guy in Sweden who’s apparently a genius with wood. And the changing table? Designed by an actual ergonomist! No sore backs for us.”

You tried to keep a straight face but couldn’t help laughing. “Lando, it’s a baby. They’re not going to care if their crib is custom-made or from IKEA. They’ll drool on it all the same.”

He gasped dramatically, clutching his chest. “Excuse me! Our baby deserves the best! The absolute best. I’m not about to put our kid in some flimsy crib where one tantrum could bring it down.”

“Pretty sure you’re the only one throwing tantrums right now,” you teased.

He ignored you, walking over to the rocking chair and giving it an experimental sway. “This chair, by the way? Perfect for late-night story time. I tested at least twenty before I found the one.”

“You sat in twenty rocking chairs?”

“Of course,” he said, like it was the most obvious thing in the world. “What if I’d chosen one that squeaked or wasn’t comfy enough for cuddles? I’m thinking ahead, love.”

“Thinking ahead is spending three months’ salary on a nursery?”

“Investment,” he corrected, plopping down beside you with a satisfied sigh.

“And it’s not just the furniture. Look at the details. That mobile? Custom order. The wallpaper? Hand-painted by some artist in Italy. Even the shelves are organized by height so the books will be easier to grab when the baby’s older. I’m not messing around.”

You shook your head, still smiling. “It’s beautiful, Lando. Really. You’ve done an amazing job.”

“Of course I have,” he said smugly, leaning back. But after a moment, his expression softened. “I just… I want everything to be perfect, you know? For them. For you. I want this room to feel safe and special and like… like a little haven.”

Your heart melted as you reached out to take his hand. “It already does, babe. It’s perfect because you made it with love.”

“Also with a ridiculous amount of money,” he added, flashing you a cheeky grin.

You laughed. “That, too.”

Lando leaned down to kiss your forehead, his voice full of affection. “Anything for you two. Now, all that’s left is to teach the baby to say ‘McLaren’ before anything else.”

You laughed, pulling back to give him a playful shove. “Don’t push your luck.”

“Fine,” he said with a wink. “Second word, then.”

—-

When the day finally came, Lando was fresh off a meeting with his team, when your water broke in the middle of your living room.

“Now?” he yelped, nearly dropping the cup of tea he’d just handed you. His wide, panicked eyes darted between you and the puddle forming at your feet. “It’s happening now?”

“Yes, Lando, now!” you snapped, clutching your belly as another contraction hit.

He spun in circles for a moment, muttering to himself, “Keys, keys, where did I- oh, my God, this is happening.”

“Lando!” you barked, cutting through his panic.

“Yes, yes! Okay! Keys! Bag! You!” He grabbed the hospital bag you’d packed weeks ago, slung it over one shoulder, then hesitated. “Wait, do you need me to carry you? Should I-”

“Just get me to the car!”

In record time, he managed to get you into the passenger seat, though not without fumbling with your seatbelt for what felt like an eternity.

“I race cars for a living,” he muttered to himself, hands trembling as he buckled you in. “Why is this harder than a pit stop?”

“Because a pit stop doesn’t scream at you every five minutes,” you shot back, gripping the door handle as another contraction rippled through your body.

---

At the hospital, Lando was a walking ball of nerves. He practically burst into the maternity ward, announcing to the nurses, “My wife’s having a baby! Right now! Like, right now!”

One of the nurses calmly guided you to a room, giving Lando a reassuring pat on the shoulder. “First-time dad?” she asked with a knowing smile.

“Is it that obvious?” he mumbled, following behind like a lost puppy.

Inside the delivery room, Lando couldn’t sit still. He paced back and forth, running his hands through his hair. “Are they supposed to take this long? Shouldn’t someone check on her again? Is she okay? Are you okay?”

“I’m fine, Lando,” you groaned through clenched teeth. “But if you don’t stop pacing, I might strangle you before this baby gets here.”

He froze mid-step, holding his hands up in surrender. “Right. No pacing. Got it. I’ll just... stand here.”

Once he could actually think past his panic, Lando immediately whipped out his phone, his fingers fumbling over the screen as he dialed his parents. The phone barely rang once before his mom answered.

“Lando? Everything okay?” her voice was calm but laced with concern, likely from the sheer urgency of his call.

“Mum! She’s in labor!” Lando practically shouted into the phone, his words tumbling out at record speed. “Like, actual labor. Right now. We’re at the hospital. It’s happening!”

“Oh, Lando, that’s wonderful!” his mom exclaimed, her tone immediately switching to excitement. “How is she? How are you?”

“She’s... well, she’s in labor!” Lando replied, running a hand through his already tousled curls. “I think she’s fine, but I don’t know! She might be mad at me for pacing too much. I stopped though. Well, sort of. Anyway, can you and Dad get here? Like, now?”

“We’re on our way, love,” she reassured him with a laugh.

By the time his parents arrived, just minutes later, Lando’s initial excitement had given way to full-blown panic. He was sitting in the corner of the room, staring at his hands, muttering under his breath.

“Do you think the baby will like me? What if they don’t like me? What if I’m a terrible dad? Oh my God, I forgot to pack snacks! What kind of dad forgets snacks?”

His parents stepped into the room, his mom taking one look at him and immediately placing a hand on his shoulder. “Lando, breathe,” she said gently, her eyes crinkling with amusement.

He jumped up at their arrival, waving his hands around. “I can’t breathe, Mum! Do you know how much responsibility this is? I’m going to be someone’s dad! What if I drop the baby? What if I don’t hold them right? Or they cry every time they see me? I-”

His dad cut him off with a firm but comforting hand on his back. “You’re going to be fine, son. You’ve got this.”

Lando looked over at you, lying on the hospital bed, still managing to roll your eyes at his dramatics despite the situation. “Does she think I’ve got this?” he asked, gesturing to you.

You groaned, partly from the contraction and partly from his antics. “Lando, if you don’t stop spiraling, I’ll personally make sure you get kicked out of this delivery room.”

His mom laughed, stepping closer to you. “She’s got it under control, doesn’t she?”

“She always does,” Lando muttered, his wide eyes darting between you and the monitors. “But what if I’m not ready, Mum?” he whispered, leaning closer to his mother as if it were a secret.

His mom reached up, brushing a curl from his forehead. “You’ll be ready when you see your baby for the first time, Lando. Trust me. You’ve already proven you’ll do whatever it takes to be a great dad. Now stop worrying and be there for your wife.”

Lando nodded, taking a deep breath and straightening up. Then he turned to you with newfound determination. “Okay. What do you need, love? Water? Ice chips? A—”

“A calm husband,” you interrupted, narrowing your eyes at him.

“Right,” he said, nodding rapidly. “Calm husband. Got it.”

And for the next two minutes, he actually managed to stay calm. Until the nurse walked in and said, “Alright, it’s time to push.”

Then all bets were off.

---

When your son (your son!) finally arrived after hours of labor, the world seemed to pause. Lando stood frozen as one of the nurses handed him the tiny, swaddled baby. His hands shook as he cradled Leo against his chest, staring down at him in awe.

His aquamarine eyes were wide as he stared down at the newborn. “Wow,” he whispered, his voice shaky. “He’s... so small. Like, really small. Are we sure he’s okay?”

“Lando, he’s a baby,” you said, exasperated but smiling, the exhaustion hitting you in waves. “They’re supposed to be small.”

“Yeah, but this small?” he asked, carefully holding Leo as if he were made of glass. He glanced at the nurse for reassurance. “Is this normal? What if I break him?”

The nurse chuckled. “You won’t, Mr. Norris. Just make sure to support his head, and you’ll be fine.”

“Support his head,” Lando repeated, adjusting his grip like he was handling the most fragile trophy in the world. Then he looked down at your son again, a mixture of awe and terror on his face. “Hey, little guy,” he murmured. “It’s, uh... it’s me. Your dad. I’m new at this, so, uh, go easy on me, yeah?”

You laughed softly, despite the ache in your body. “He’s not going to grade you, Lando.”

“Good, because I’m already giving myself a D+,” he muttered, carefully sitting beside you on the hospital bed.

Lando looked up at you, his eyes glassy. “You did so good,” he said softly. “So, so good. Thank you for... for him.”

As the tiny bundle in his arm let out a tiny whimper, Lando instinctively rocked him, whispering, “Shh, mate, it’s okay. Daddy’s got you.”

“You’re a natural,” the nurse commented, smiling as she adjusted your blankets.

“Really?” Lando glanced up, his grin sheepish but full of pride. “Because I feel like I’m one wrong move away from dropping him.”

“You won’t,” you reassured him, reaching out to touch his arm. “You’re already amazing.”

He smiled, leaning down to press a kiss to your forehead. “You’re the amazing one. I mean, you just made a person. How insane is that?”

As he sat beside you, still holding him as if he were the most precious thing in the world.

You rested your head against his shoulder, watching as he studied every tiny feature of Leo’s face. “He’s got my eyes,” he murmured, awed.

“And your gap-toothed smile too, probably,” you teased.

He chuckled, brushing a fingertip gently over Leo’s tiny hand. “That’s not a bad thing. He’ll be unstoppable. Just wait until he sees his first go-kart.”

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