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pucksandpower · 9 months ago

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War Is Over

Lewis Hamilton x Rosberg!Reader

Summary: Lewis parks his car … right into his best friend-turned-nemesis’ little sister (and somehow reunites Brocedes in the process)

Warnings: descriptions of serious injury

Note: the fact that he not only won a race again but it was his home race … this calls for a Lewis Hamilton fic 🥹

The Monaco sun glints off sleek sports cars lining the streets as Lewis navigates his Mercedes through the winding roads. He’s running late for dinner with some sponsors and the traffic is only making things worse.

Lewis mutters under his breath, “Come on, come on. Just need to park this thing ...”

He spots an open space in front of the restaurant and starts to maneuver in, glancing at his watch. The ticking seconds only increase his frustration.

“Bloody hell, why is parking always such a nightmare here?”

Lewis throws the car into reverse, not bothering to look behind him. He’s done this a thousand times before. What could possibly go wrong?

The sickening thud comes a split second before he slams on the brakes. His heart leaps into his throat as he whips around, praying he just hit a trash bin or something.

But the crumpled form on the ground is undeniably human.

“Oh God, oh God, no ...” Lewis fumbles with his seatbelt, hands shaking as he bursts out of the car. “Please be okay, please be okay ...”

He drops to his knees beside the prone figure, a young woman with long hair obscuring her face. Blood is already pooling beneath her head.

“Miss? Can you hear me?” Lewis gently brushes the hair back, and his world stops.

It’s you. Nico’s little sister. The girl he’s known since she was in pigtails, cheering from the sidelines at their early karting races.

Lewis’ jaw drops open as the full horror of what he’s done sinks in. “Y/N? Oh God, Y/N, please wake up!”

He cradles your head, heedless of the blood staining his designer shirt. Your eyes remain closed, skin alarmingly pale.

“Someone call an ambulance!” Lewis shouts, his voice cracking with panic. “Please, somebody help!”

A crowd starts to gather, murmurs of shock and recognition rippling through them. Lewis barely notices, focused solely on your still form.

“Y/N, come on, open your eyes. Please, you have to be okay,” he pleads, gently patting your cheek. “I’m so sorry, I didn’t see you, I swear I didn’t mean to ...”

Your eyelids flutter, a soft groan escaping your lips. Lewis nearly sobs with relief.

“That’s it, that’s it. Can you hear me? It’s Lewis. You’re going to be alright.”

Your eyes open, unfocused and confused. “Lewis? What ... what happened?”

“Don’t try to move, okay? There was an accident. Help is on the way.”

You try to sit up, wincing in pain. “My head ...”

“Shh, just stay still. I’ve got you.” Lewis supports your shoulders, keeping you from moving too much.

“Did ... did you hit me with your car?” Your voice is small, disbelieving.

Lewis swallows hard. “I’m so, so sorry. I didn’t see you, I swear. God, Y/N, I would never ...”

You manage a weak smile. “Always knew you’d be the death of me, Hamilton.”

Despite everything, Lewis can’t help but chuckle. “Don’t joke about that. You scared me half to death.”

“Sorry to ruin your evening,” you mumble, eyes starting to drift closed again.

“Hey, hey, stay with me.” Lewis gently taps your cheek. “Keep those eyes open, okay? Talk to me.”

You force your eyes open. “About what?”

“Anything. Tell me ... tell me what you’re doing in Monaco. Are you visiting Nico?”

You shake your head slightly, then wince. “No, I ... I moved here. Got a job at the yacht club.”

“Really? That’s great. When did that happen?”

“Few months ago. Needed ... needed a change of scenery.”

Lewis nods, desperately trying to keep you engaged. “I get that. Monaco’s beautiful. Although the parking situation leaves something to be desired,” he adds wryly.

You manage a weak laugh, then grimace. “Ow. Don’t make me laugh.”

“Sorry, sorry.” Lewis glances around anxiously. “Where’s that damn ambulance?”

As if on cue, sirens wail in the distance. Lewis breathes a sigh of relief.

“Help’s coming, Y/N. Just hang on a little longer, okay?”

You nod slightly, eyes becoming unfocused again. “Lewis?”

“Yeah?”

“Don’t tell Nico.”

Lewis’ heart clenches. “Y/N ...”

“Please. He’ll kill you. And then me. For being stupid enough to walk behind a car without looking.”

“This isn’t your fault,” Lewis insists. “I should have checked my mirrors. I was distracted, rushing ...”

You shake your head stubbornly. “Promise me. Don’t tell him.”

Lewis hesitates. “Y/N, I can’t just ...”

“Promise,” you repeat, gripping his arm with surprising strength.

Lewis sighs. “Okay, okay. I promise. But he’s going to find out eventually.”

“Let me handle it. When I’m not ... you know. Bleeding on the pavement.”

The ambulance pulls up, paramedics jumping out. Lewis reluctantly moves aside to let them work, hovering anxiously.

“Sir, can you tell us what happened?” One of the paramedics asks as they begin assessing your injuries.

Lewis runs a hand through his hair. “I ... I hit her with my car. I was backing up and didn’t see her. It was an accident, I swear.”

The paramedic nods, focused on taking your vitals. “Miss, can you tell me your name?”

“Y/N Rosberg,” you mumble.

The paramedic’s eyes widen slightly in recognition, but he remains professional. “Alright, Y/N. We’re going to get you to the hospital. Just try to stay still for me.”

As they prepare to move you onto a stretcher, Lewis steps forward. “Can I ride with her?”

The paramedic hesitates. “Are you family?”

“No, but I’m ... I’m responsible for this. Please, I need to make sure she’s okay.”

You reach out weakly, grasping Lewis’ hand. “Let him come. He’s ... he’s family.”

The paramedic nods. “Alright, but stay out of the way.”

As they load you into the ambulance, Lewis climbs in beside you, still holding your hand. The doors slam shut and the sirens wail as they speed towards the hospital.

“You didn’t have to do that,” Lewis says softly.

You give his hand a weak squeeze. “Couldn’t let you ... sulk all night. You’d probably ... crash into a street lamp next.”

Lewis chuckles despite himself. “There’s that Rosberg wit. You sound just like your brother sometimes.”

You grimace. “Don’t insult me when I’m down, Hamilton.”

The banter feels surreal given the circumstances, but Lewis is grateful for it. It keeps the crushing guilt at bay, if only for a moment.

“Y/N, I ...” he starts, then falters. “I don’t even know how to begin to apologize.”

You shake your head slightly. “Later. When everything ... stops spinning.”

Lewis nods, throat tight. He watches the paramedics work, feeling utterly helpless.

“Tell me something,” you murmur after a moment.

“What?”

“Anything. Distract me.”

Lewis thinks for a moment. “Did I ever tell you about the time Nico and I got lost in Ibiza?”

You manage a small smile. “No. Spill.”

As Lewis launches into the story, embellishing for comedic effect, he can’t help but marvel at your resilience. Here you are, cracking jokes and asking for stories while bleeding from a head wound he caused.

The guilt threatens to overwhelm him again, but he pushes it aside. Right now, keeping you conscious and calm is what matters. There will be time for apologies and recriminations later.

As the ambulance weaves through Monaco’s narrow streets, Lewis silently vows to make this right, whatever it takes. He may have destroyed his friendship with Nico, but he won’t let you pay the price for their rivalry.

The hospital looms ahead, and Lewis squeezes your hand. “We’re almost there, Y/N. You’re going to be okay. I promise.”

You meet his eyes, a flicker of something — trust? forgiveness? — passing between you. “I know,” you whisper. “I’ve got my guardian angel, after all. Even if he is a bit rubbish at parking.”

Lewis laughs, the sound catching in his throat. As they wheel you into the emergency room, he realizes with startling clarity that nothing will ever be the same after tonight.

But looking at your brave smile as the doctors surround you, he thinks that maybe, just maybe, that might not be such a bad thing.

***

The steady beep of the heart monitor fills the hushed hospital room. Lewis sits hunched in an uncomfortable chair beside your bed, his eyes never leaving your sleeping form. The stark white bandage wrapped around your head is a constant reminder of his guilt.

A nurse pops her head in. “Mr. Hamilton? There’s someone here to see-”

She’s cut off as Nico barges past her, his face a mask of fury. “You son of a bitch.“

Nico’s fist is already swinging towards Lewis’ face when a doctor in a white coat steps between them. “Gentlemen! This is a hospital, not a boxing ring!”

Nico’s momentum carries him forward, nearly stumbling into the doctor. He catches himself, chest heaving as he glares daggers at Lewis.

“What the hell are you doing here?” Nico snarls.

Lewis stands, hands raised placatingly. “Nico, I can explain-”

“Explain? Explain how you nearly killed my sister?” Nico’s voice rises, causing you to stir in the bed.

The doctor clears his throat. “Mr. Rosberg, I presume? I’m Dr. Moreau. Perhaps we should step outside to discuss your sister’s condition.”

Nico hesitates, clearly torn between getting information and pummeling Lewis. Finally, he nods curtly. “Fine. But this isn’t over, Hamilton.”

As they step into the hallway, Lewis sinks back into his chair, running a hand over his face. He glances at you, relieved to see you’ve settled back into sleep.

In the corridor, Dr. Moreau speaks in low, measured tones. “Mr. Rosberg, your sister suffered a severe concussion and a fractured skull. There was some internal bleeding, but we’ve managed to stabilize that.”

Nico’s knees go weak, and he leans against the wall for support. “Oh God ...”

“She also has three broken ribs, a fractured wrist, and various cuts and bruises,” the doctor continues. “Frankly, it’s a miracle she wasn’t more seriously injured. The impact could easily have been fatal.”

Nico slides down the wall, sitting heavily on the floor. “She ... she almost died?”

Dr. Moreau nods gravely. “It was touch and go for a while. But she’s young and strong. With time and proper care, we expect her to make a full recovery.”

Nico buries his face in his hands, shoulders shaking. After a moment, he looks up, eyes red-rimmed. “Can I see her?”

“Of course. But please, try to stay calm. She needs rest.”

Nico nods, pulling himself to his feet. He takes a deep breath before re-entering the room.

Lewis stands as Nico approaches the bed. “Nico, I-”

“Save it,” Nico snaps, but there’s less venom in his voice now. He gently takes your hand, his thumb tracing circles on your palm.

Your eyes flutter open. “Nico?” You mumble groggily.

“Hey, little sis,” Nico says softly, managing a weak smile. “How are you feeling?”

“Like I got hit by a car,” you deadpan.

Lewis winces, but Nico actually chuckles. “Well, your sense of humor is intact, at least.”

You try to sit up, grimacing in pain. Lewis and Nico both move to help, then freeze, glaring at each other.

You roll your eyes. “Oh, for heaven’s sake. Both of you, help me up. And then explain why you look ready to kill each other. Again.”

With their combined efforts, they manage to prop you up against the pillows. You look expectantly between them.

Nico breaks first. “How can you even ask that? He nearly killed you!”

“It was an accident,” you insist.

“An accident?” Nico scoffs. “He hit you with his car!”

“Which I’m pretty sure he didn’t do on purpose,” you retort. “Right, Lewis?”

Lewis nods emphatically. “God, no. Y/N, I swear, I never saw you. I was distracted, rushing ... but I would never intentionally hurt you. You have to believe that.”

Nico’s jaw clenches. “Maybe not intentionally. But your carelessness nearly cost my sister her life. How am I supposed to forgive that?”

“You don’t have to forgive me,” Lewis says quietly. “I don’t know if I’ll ever forgive myself. But Y/N is the one who was hurt. Shouldn’t it be her choice?”

You nod, wincing at the movement. “Exactly. And I choose to forgive you, Lewis. It was an accident. A stupid, awful accident, but still an accident.”

Nico shakes his head in disbelief. “Y/N, you can’t be serious. You’re lying in a hospital bed because of him!”

“And he’s been by my side ever since,” you counter. “He rode in the ambulance with me, held my hand through all the tests and scans. He’s barely left this room in hours.”

Lewis looks down, uncomfortable with the praise. “It was the least I could do.”

Nico runs a hand through his hair, frustrated. “That doesn’t change what happened.”

“No, it doesn’t,” you agree. “But it shows he cares. That he’s taking responsibility.”

“I’ll pay for all her medical expenses,” Lewis adds quickly. “And anything else she needs for her recovery. It’s the least I can do.”

Nico snorts. “You think you can just throw money at this and make it go away?”

“No!” Lewis insists. “I know nothing can undo what happened. But I want to help however I can.”

You reach out, grabbing both their hands. “Listen to me, both of you. I’m tired, I’m in pain, and I don’t have the energy for your macho posturing right now.”

They both have the grace to look ashamed.

“Nico, I love you, but you need to calm down,” you continue. “Lewis made a mistake, a big one. But he’s trying to make amends. And frankly, I need both of you right now. I can’t deal with you at each other’s throats on top of everything else.”

Nico’s expression softens. “I’m sorry, Y/N. I just ... when I got that call, saying you were in the hospital ... I’ve never been so scared in my life.”

You squeeze his hand. “I know. But I’m okay. Or I will be. And having you two fighting isn’t going to help me get better any faster.”

Lewis clears his throat. “She’s right. Nico, I know you have every right to hate me right now. But can we please call a truce? For Y/N’s sake?”

Nico hesitates, clearly torn. Finally, he nods stiffly. “Fine. A truce. But only for Y/N.”

“Thank you,” you sigh, relaxing back against the pillows. “Now, can one of you please get me some water? And maybe sneak in some real food? I’m starving and the hospital jello isn’t cutting it.”

Lewis jumps up. “I’ll go. Nico, you stay with her. I’ll be right back.”

As Lewis hurries out, Nico settles into the chair beside your bed. “You sure you’re okay, little sis?”

You manage a small smile. “I’ve been better. But I’ve also been worse.”

Nico raises an eyebrow. “When have you been worse than having a cracked skull and broken ribs?”

“Remember when I was eight and fell out of that tree in the backyard?”

Nico chuckles. “God, I thought Mama was going to have a heart attack. You were so stubborn, insisting you could climb higher than me.”

“Still can,” you tease.

“Maybe hold off on the tree climbing for a while, yeah?”

You pretend to pout. “Spoilsport.”

The banter feels good, normal. For a moment, you can almost forget you’re in a hospital bed.

Nico’s expression turns serious. “Y/N, are you really okay with forgiving Lewis so easily? You don’t have to, you know. Not for my sake or anyone else’s.”

You sigh. “I know. And believe me, I’m not thrilled about the whole getting hit by a car thing. But Nico, you should have seen his face when he realized it was me. He was devastated.”

“He should be,” Nico grumbles.

“I’m not saying there won’t be consequences,” you continue. “But I don’t believe for a second he meant to hurt me. And holding onto anger isn’t going to help me heal any faster.”

Nico studies your face for a long moment. “When did you get so wise, little sister?”

You grin. “I’ve always been the smart one in the family. You were just too busy crashing karts to notice.”

Nico laughs, then sobers. “I was so scared, Y/N. When they called and said you were in the hospital ... all I could think was that I couldn’t lose you.”

You squeeze his hand. “Hey, you’re not getting rid of me that easily. It’ll take more than Lewis Hamilton’s terrible parking skills to take out a Rosberg.”

“Don’t joke about that,” Nico says, but he’s smiling.

Lewis returns then, arms laden with bags. “I wasn’t sure what you’d want, so I got a bit of everything. Sandwiches, fruit, some pasta salad ... oh, and chocolate. Lots of chocolate.”

You beam at him. “My hero.”

Nico rolls his eyes, but there’s less hostility in it now. “Is this really the time for sweets?”

Lewis grins sheepishly. “Hey, chocolate has healing properties. I read that somewhere.”

“Sounds like solid medical advice to me,” you chime in, already reaching for a candy bar.

As Lewis unpacks the food, a tentative peace settles over the room. It’s fragile, built on shared concern for you rather than any real reconciliation between the two men. But it’s a start.

You watch them, noting how they unconsciously mirror each other’s movements as they fuss over arranging the food on your tray. For all their differences, for all the bad blood between them, there’s still an underlying connection there. Years of friendship and rivalry can’t be erased so easily.

“You know,” you say around a mouthful of sandwich, “this whole arch-enemies thing you two have going on is getting a bit old.”

They both look at you, startled.

“I mean, come on,” you continue. “You were best friends for years. You’ve known each other longer than most marriages last. Is it really worth throwing all that away over some stupid trophies?”

Nico frowns. “Y/N, it’s more complicated than that-”

“Is it, though?” You interrupt. “Because from where I’m sitting — or laying, I guess — it seems pretty simple. You both love racing. You’re both insanely competitive. And yeah, sometimes that caused friction. But at the end of the day, who else understands what you have been through better than each other?”

Lewis and Nico exchange uncomfortable glances.

“I’m not saying you have to be best buddies again,” you add. “But maybe ... I don’t know. Maybe you could try not actively hating each other? For my sake, if nothing else. I’m going to need both of you while I recover and I really don’t want to deal with World War III breaking out in my hospital room.”

There’s a long moment of silence. Finally, Lewis speaks up.

“She’s right,” he says quietly. “Nico, I know things have been ... difficult between us. And I know this situation hasn’t helped. But Y/N’s important to both of us. Can we at least try to be civil? For her?”

Nico hesitates, then nods slowly. “I suppose we can try. But Lewis, I swear, if anything like this ever happens again-”

“It won’t,” Lewis says firmly. “I promise you, Nico. I’ll do whatever it takes to make this right.”

You beam at them both. “See? Was that so hard? Now, who’s going to help me eat all this food? Doctor’s orders, you know. Got to keep my strength up.”

As they both reach for the tray, playfully battling over who gets to hand you what, you can’t help but smile. It’s not perfect, not by a long shot. But it’s a beginning.

And really, you think as you watch the two most important men in your life grudgingly share a bag of crisps, sometimes beginnings are the best part of any story.

***

f1-fanatic-2024

[Image: Lewis Hamilton and Nico Rosberg exiting a hospital, walking side by side]

OMG IS THIS REAL??? Brocedes spotted together??? What year is it???

#what is happening #f1 #lewis hamilton #nico rosberg #brocedes

---

brocedes-no1-stan

[reblogging f1-fanatic-2024’s post]

I’m sorry, but are we just going to ignore the fact that they’re leaving a HOSPITAL??? Is everyone okay???

#concerned #hope everyone’s alright #but also lowkey excited

---

vintage-f1-vibes

Okay but why does this feel like a glitch in the matrix? Haven’t seen these two willingly in the same frame since like 2016 😭

#blast from the past #what year is it #f1 #lewis hamilton #nico rosberg

---

racing-queen-93

[reblogging f1-fanatic-2024’s post]

BROCEDES RISE!!! 🙌🙌🙌

My 2014 heart is SOARING right now. Never thought I’d see the day. BRB, gonna go cry in a corner.

#i’m not crying you’re crying #brocedes #lewis hamilton #nico rosberg #f1

---

silverarrows4ever

[Image set: Multiple angles of Lewis and Nico leaving the hospital, including one where they appear to be mid-conversation]

New Brocedes content in 2024? Maybe miracles do happen 😭

But seriously, hope everything’s okay. Weird to see them at a hospital.

#concerned but hopeful #lewis hamilton #nico rosberg #f1 #brocedes

---

formula1-history-nerd

[reblogging silverarrows4ever��s post]

Okay, but can we talk about how neither of them has aged a day??? What kind of vampire magic-

#aging like fine wine #drop the skincare routine boys #f1 #lewis hamilton #nico rosberg

---

racingdaydreams

Me: I’m over Brocedes, that ship has sailed

Also me seeing these pics: 🥺👉👈

#i’m weak okay #f1 #brocedes #lewis hamilton #nico rosberg

---

fastcarsgovroomvroom

[reblogging f1-fanatic-2024’s post]

Everyone freaking out about Brocedes and I’m just wondering why they’re at a hospital??? Hope everyone’s okay!

#f1 #lewis hamilton #nico rosberg

---

f1-drama-central

BREAKING: Lewis Hamilton and Nico Rosberg spotted leaving Princess Grace Hospital together. Sources say they arrived separately but left at the same time, engaging in what appeared to be civil conversation. More updates as the story develops!

#breaking news #what’s the tea #f1 #lewis hamilton #nico rosberg

---

retro-racing-vibes

[reblogging f1-drama-central’s post]

2014 me is SCREAMING right now. 2024 me is cautiously optimistic but also kind of worried because ... hospital?

#conflicted feelings #f1 #lewis hamilton #nico rosberg #brocedes

---

formulaonefanatic

[Image: Close-up of Lewis and Nico talking, both with serious expressions]

Whatever brought them together, it looks serious. Hoping everyone’s okay. But also ... is it wrong that I’m a little excited to see them talking again?

#concerned but intrigued #brocedes #f1 #lewis hamilton #nico rosberg

***

f1-gossip-central

[Image set: Lewis, Nico, and Y/N on Lewis’ yacht. Another photo of Lewis kissing Y/N with Nico cringing in the background]

WHAT IS HAPPENING??? Lewis and Nico on the same boat??? Lewis kissing Nico’s sister??? I need answers!!!

#what timeline is this #i’m shook #f1 #lewis hamilton #nico rosberg #y/n rosberg

---

brocedes-ride-or-die

[reblogging f1-gossip-central’s post]

EXCUSE ME??? Lewis and Y/N??? When did this happen??? How did I miss this??? 😱😱😱

#new ship alert #what is happening #f1 #lewis hamilton #y/n rosberg

---

vintage-f1-drama

Okay but Nico’s face in that last pic is sending me 💀💀💀 Big protective brother energy

#siblings be like #f1 #nico rosberg #lewis hamilton #y/n rosberg

---

formulaoneobsessed

[Image: Close-up of Lewis kissing Y/N]

New F1 power couple alert? 👀 But also, how is Nico okay with this?

#f1 #lewis hamilton #y/n rosberg #nico rosberg

---

racingheartstrings

[reblogging formulaoneobsessed’s post]

I can’t decide if this is the best or worst plot twist of the 2024 season 😂

Either way, I’m here for the drama!

#pass the popcorn #f1 #lewis hamilton #y/n rosberg #nico rosberg

---

silverarrowsforever

[Image set: Lewis and Nico chatting on the yacht, looking relaxed]

Can we talk about how this is the most relaxed we’ve seen these two together in YEARS??? Whatever’s happening, it seems to be healing old wounds and I’m here for it 🙌

#f1 #lewis hamilton #nico rosberg #brocedes

---

f1-fanfiction-addict

Me: furiously rewriting all my Brocedes fics to include Y/N

The plot twist we never saw coming 😅

#f1 #lewis hamilton #nico rosberg #y/n rosberg #fanfiction problems

---

speed-queen-101

[reblogging f1-gossip-central’s post]

Y’all are focused on the Lewis and Y/N kiss but can we appreciate how GOOD everyone looks??? That Monaco sun is doing wonders 😍

#glow up #f1 #lewis hamilton #nico rosberg #y/n rosberg

---

formula1-history-buff

Imagine telling someone in 2016 that in 2024, Lewis would be dating Nico’s sister and they’d all be hanging out on Lewis’ yacht. They’d think you were crazy!

#how times change #f1 #lewis hamilton #nico rosberg #y/n rosberg

---

racingdaydreams

[Image: Nico’s cringing face as Lewis kisses Y/N]

Tag yourself, I’m Nico 😂

#third wheel vibes #f1 #nico rosberg #lewis hamilton #y/n rosberg

---

fastcarsgovroomvroom

[reblogging racingdaydreams’ post]

Petition for a reality show following this trio because I would watch the HECK out of that

#make it happen netflix #f1 #lewis hamilton #nico rosberg #y/n rosberg

---

f1-drama-queen

THEORY TIME: What if the hospital visit from last week was for Y/N??? And that’s what brought Lewis and Nico back together??? 🤔

#conspiracy theory #but makes sense #f1 #lewis hamilton #nico rosberg #y/n rosberg

---

brocedes-forever

[Image set: Lewis and Nico laughing together on the yacht]

My Brocedes heart is THRIVING right now. Yeah, the Lewis and Y/N thing is cute, but look at these two 😭❤️

#f1 #lewis hamilton #nico rosberg #brocedes #friendship goals

2K notes · View notes

delulujuls · 1 year ago

Text

thick thighs save lives (but ruin racing suits) | ln4, op81

hi! i got this idea from one tiktok i saw today. this one goes for my plus size girlies (including myself lmao) so please enjoy as much as papaya boys would enjoy some pair of thick thighs!

summary: lando and oscar never seen their friend with something tight on, so when it comes to try on new racing suits she have a big surprise for them

warnings: slightly disturbed perception of body image

pairing: oscar piastri x fem!mclarendriver x lando norris

Y/N sometimes forgot that she was a girl.

At the beginning of her career she tried to make an effort to look good, showing that a male-dominated sport wouldn't take away her feminine grace. Years ago she used to wake up early, style her hair, do makeup and spend a lot of money on fixing cosmetics but unfortunately everything was lost due to sweat, a balaclava and a tight helmet. So the girl decided that this fight made absolutely no sense - she decided to stuck only to lip balm and mascara.

Despite keeping her makeup to a minimum, even her mascara remained treacherous, smearing under her eyes after each race or training session, making her look like a panda. In terms of clothes, the girl didn't have much opportunity to show off either. Her clothes were largely either team tracksuits, a racing suit, or just a baggy orange T-shirt and jeans.

And just as Oscar and Lando looked great after the race despite sweat and messy hair, her post-race glow didn't really existed. On the contrary, she looked as if she had a hard, sleepless night.

It is known that when media days fell on the calendar, the girl tried to look her best. She had light make-up and nicely styled hair, but her body was still covered by loose layers of clothes. It would seem that apart from her physiotherapist and the team doctor, no one around her had any idea what kind of figure the girl really had.

However, everything changed when the break between seasons came. When places had numerous galas and events and you could throw away uncomfortable helmets and team clothes. However, as we know, everything comes to an end at some point and we have to return to the gray reality. This was the case, when the day came and it was time to try on new racing suits for the upcoming season.

Y/N hugged Lando and Oscar upon seeing them outside the entrance to McLaren's headquarters. The trio hadn't had the opportunity to see each other for several weeks, so there was a lot of joy. In a good mood, surrounded by conversation, they went inside and immediately went to the designated place. After a short presentation of costumes, everyone received theirs and went to change, only to come back after a while and report any reservations regarding comfort and range of movement. Y/N took her suit without thinking and went to change. She was surprised when the suit got stuck on her butt and refused to go up any higher.

"What the hell"

The girl muttered under her breath, gripping her fit tighter and jumping in it several times. When it finally slid over her ass, Y/N slipped her hands into the sleeves and zipped up the zipper, sealing the Velcro around her neck. Something was definitely wrong. The girl looked in the mirror at her reflection. The outfit was great and looked amazing, the only problem was that it was a bit tight. Which shouldn't be the case, because the outfits were based on last season's, so the dimensions shouldn't differ drastically. It was impossible to gain so much weight in three months, right?

The girl turned around, looking at the back of her body. The outfit was definitely tight. Just as it was still relatively tight on her chest, it was very tight on her thighs and butt.

Y/N covered her mouth with her hand, looking at her reflection. Have she really always had such big thighs? Did she actually gain weight during the past break?

She was brought out of her thoughts by a knock on the bathroom and the voices of Lando and Oscar outside the door.

"Are you ready?"

The girl felt her cheeks burning with shame.

"I think I have a problem"

Hearing this, the friends fell silent and looked at each other.

"Can we come in?"

Y/N agreed quietly, still staring at herself in the mirror. With each passing second, she became more and more confused about her reflection.

Oscar and Lando entered the bathroom, also wearing their suits. When they noticed their friend standing with her back to them, the first thing they noticed was her butt. Lando quickly looked up at the ceiling and Oscar walked over to the girl, trying his hardest to focus on the reflection of her face in the mirror.

"What happened?"

Y/N bit her lip in shame and silently turned towards them. Her friends involuntarily looked at her, pretending they didn't know what she meant. But as soon as they saw the material tight around her ass from the entrance to the bathroom, they knew exactly what the matter was about.

"My suit is too tight" The girl said quietly, looking at herself "It doesn't fit at all"

Lando wrapped his arms around himself and covered his mouth with his hand. He tried his hardest not to speak, because all he could think about were comments about her thighs and whether she could crush him with them. It didn't get much easier for Oscar. He put his hands on his hips and looked at his friend silently. He was afraid that he would be unable to comfort her in any way, because his mind was completely blank.

Piastri cleared his throat after a while, trying to return from the land of fantasy and behave as if the whole situation was really dramatic.

"Is it very tight?"

"Oh, just look!"

The girl spread her arms and spun around. Lando bit his lip and tilted his head back. Oscar held his breath, having no idea what to say. He was totally mesmerized by her curves.

"I- Uhm, I think it's just a mistake and they'll make you a different one without any problem."

"Different one?" Y/N asked, feeling tears in her eyes. “What if it's not a mistake and I've gained weight these past few months?”

"After all, the tests showed that everything was fine with your measurements."

Oscar said calmly.

Y/N turned to the mirror again and looked at her reflection.

"What a total shit"

"Hey, don't say that" Lando was immediately outraged "You look great"

"Great?" The girl snorted, "Come on, I look ridiculous."

"To be honest, I agree with Lando one hundred percent."

Oscar replied, looking once more at the back of the girl's body.

"My thighs are a disaster! What kind of racing driver has such big thighs?"

The girl burst out, turning again towards them.

"Max has nice thighs," Lando pointed out, thinking for a moment, "I'm sure his thighs are the national pride of the Netherlands."

Y/N wasn't in the mood to joke. Devastated, she looked down her body.

Oscar walked up to her and hugged her without saying a word.

"You look beautiful. And you have a really amazing figure"

Lando walked over to his friends and hugged them as well.

The girl felt a little better with the support of her friends. However, for a moment she forgot that men would be men and nothing would ever dissuade them from having dirty thoughts.

"I agree with Oscar, because you really look great," Lando started. Oscar looked at him, knowing full well what was coming and knowing that he wouldn't be able to stop it. "But with all the respect I have for you as a friend and as a woman in general, holy shit, I would pay extra for you to strangle me with your thighs. And man, that mad bunda, too."

Y/N didn't know what to say for a moment. She only felt a blush creeping onto her cheeks. Did she just receive the strangest compliment of her life?

She freed herself a little from her friends' embrace and looked at Lando's face.

"Seriously?"

He seeing that his comment was not received negatively, quickly nodded.

"You have such a body that-" "Lando meant that you shouldn't worry about what you look like because you look really great."

Oscar interjected, knowing full well that Lando's comments should be kept to himself.

The girl smiled weakly and sniffled. Her friends' words lifted her spirits a bit.

"My only concern now is how I will get this contraption off of me."

Lando and Oscar smirked, involuntarily exchanging glances.

"I think we can help you with that."

#f1 imagines #f1 one shot #f1 #formula 1 #f1 oneshots #op81 #f1 imagine #lando norris #ln4 #oscar piastri #lando norris x reader x oscar piastri #lando norris x reader #oscar piastri x reader

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pickingupmymercedes · 7 months ago

Text

Damn him - Lewis Hamilton NSFW

Braids down, finger in and that smirk.

pairing: Lewis Hamilton x Reader!

warnings: unprotected sexual activities

Also, wrap it before you tap it.

wordcount: +2K

a/n: I might have found my passion for teasing 🤭. Also, the smirk besties, that smirk @lh44girl 🫦

As always, I'm open for feedback, come say hi!

EXPLICIT CONTENT UNDER, -18 DO NOT INTERACT

_______________________________________

The room was still shrouded in darkness, only the faintest sliver of dawn creeping through the heavy curtains. Lewis was dead to the world, his arm lazily draped over her waist.

She’s got to hand it to him—when he’s out, he’s out, completely unaware that she’s about to disappear from his bed like a ghost.

Gently, she lifts his arm, careful not to disturb him. The bed creaked slightly as she slipped out, the cool air immediately prickling her skin. Her dress from last night lies abandoned on the floor, and she silently cursed the choice of attire.

A body-hugging, zipper-up-the-back number isn’t exactly designed for a swift exit. Still, she’s been through these routine enough times to make it work.

She pulled on the dress, her fingers fumbling with the zipper, and catched her reflection in the mirror. Her hair a mess, wild and tangled from sleep and... well, whatever that was that happened the night before.

There’s a faint smudge of makeup under her eyes, and she can’t help but notice the telltale mark on her neck. Great. She’s got a press conference today, and now she’ll have to figure out how to cover that up.

Professionalism, right?

She glanced back at the bed. Lewis is sprawled out, his chest rising and falling in a slow, steady rhythm. He looks so damn peaceful, so utterly unaware of the world.

And for a moment, just a brief flicker, she considered waking him. But what’s the point? This is how it always goes—no strings, no complications.

Besides, there’s a certain satisfaction in slipping out unnoticed, leaving him to his dreams.

She moved to the door, her hand hovering over the knob. There’s a moment’s hesitation, a tiny voice in the back of her mind that wonders if this will ever change—if they’ll ever stop playing these games.

But she brushed it aside. They both know the score. She’s not looking for anything more, and neither is he.

As she stepped into the hallway, she doesn’t look back. She’s done this dance before, and she’ll do it again. The only thing she takes with her is a hair tie around her wrist—probably his. It’s a small, insignificant thing, but she likes having it, a reminder of the night.

She straightened her dress, squared her shoulders, and walked down the corridor to enter the car waiting.

There’s no shame there, no regret. Just the usual morning after, with the usual complications.

But then, complications are part of the job, aren’t they?

By the time Y/n arrived on the paddock it was its usual buzzing ground, the organized chaos of a media day in full swing.

She’s got her game face on, professional and poised, the lingering traces of last night buried beneath a shower and layers of carefully applied concealer.

She was just finished setting up in the media pen, her notes organized, camera crew in place, when her phone vibrated against the table. She glanced down, expecting some last-minute update or an overzealous PR rep trying to change an interview slot. Instead, it’s a message from Lewis.

You have something that’s mine.

Her brow furrowed as she read it, confusion and intrigue bubbling up. What the hell is he talking about?

She quickly scanned her surroundings, half-expecting to see him lurking somewhere nearby with that damn smirk of his. But the paddock is crowded, drivers and team members moving in every direction, and there’s no sign of him.

She brushed it off. There’s work to be done, and whatever game he’s playing can wait.

But it’s easier said than done. The message lingered in the back of her mind, gnawing at her curiosity. What did she take? He can’t be serious.

She barely had time to dwell on everything that had happened since the night before before she has to move again, weaving through the throng of people.

As she rounds a corner, she nearly collides with him. Lewis, in all his casually confident glory, is striding toward her, his eyes locking onto hers with a look that gets her breath stuck in her throat.

He doesn’t slow down, doesn’t stop, but as he passes, he gives her that look. The one that says he’s up to no good, that he’s got something planned.

The smirk on his lips is unmistakable. It’s a promise, a challenge, and she can’t help but roll her eyes at his audacity.

Of course, he’d pull something like this on a day she’s already juggling a million things. She keeps walking, head held high, refusing to let him see how much he’s already under her skin.

Only later, as she’s waiting for an interview to start, she spots him again. This time, he’s not in a rush. He’s lingering, talking to someone from his team, but his attention is split.

She can feel his gaze on her before she even looks up. When she does, he’s already watching her, a little too intently for her liking.

He opens his mouth as if he’s about to say something, then stops, closing it with a thoughtful pout. His hand slips into his pocket, but only his index goes in, tapping the rest rhythmically against his les.

Her breath hitches again. She knows exactly what that finger is capable of, and the memory from last night floods back in with a vengeance.

The slow, deliberate way he’d teased her, drawn out her pleasure until she was a trembling mess beneath him.

She forces herself to look away, to focus on anything else. But the damage is done. He’s got her flustered, her mind racing in directions it shouldn’t be going in the middle of a workday.

She doesn’t miss the satisfied glint in his eye as she turns her attention back to her notes, pretending she’s unaffected. But he knows better. He always does.

Damn him.

Then she’s back at the hotel, settling into her room, the familiar comfort of routine taking over as she edits the final images for the broadcaster. The day has been a whirlwind, and she’s finally finding her rhythm.

She’s halfway through cropping a shot when the phone rings, startling her. The room phone.

She blinks, confused. Who even uses the room phone these days?

“Hello?”

“Your car is downstairs, ma’am,” the receptionist informs her, tone as polished as ever.

“My car?” She’s even more puzzled now. She didn’t call for a car. “Are you sure?”

“Yes, ma’am. It’s waiting for you.”

Almost simultaneously, her phone pings with a message. She glances down, and her confusion deepens when she sees the name on the screen: Lewis. She opens the message.

Just get in.

Of course. Who else could it be? A sigh escapes her as she gathers her things, tossing her phone into her bag.

Why was she even entertaining him was something her logical side was having serious trouble grasping.

The blacked-out Mercedes waiting outside is a dead giveaway. She slides into the backseat, and there he is—Lewis, sprawled out with that easy confidence he wears like a second skin.

The door barely clicks shut before his hands are on her, pulling her close as the car begins to move. A closed little window the only thing separating them from whoever was on the front seats.

“Lewis, not here” she hisses, feeling his fingers deftly working their way to the button of her jeans.

He chuckles, the sound low and rumbling in his chest. “Don’t worry, love. The big guy driving us won’t say a thing.”

His fingers are relentless, sliding under the fabric, seeking out her heat. Her breath catches as he finds her clit, rubbing it through the thin barrier of her underwear.

The car is moving, taking them somewhere in the Milan area, but she’s too caught up in the sensation to care where they’re headed.

“You love the tease, don’t you?” he murmurs, his voice rough with desire.

She bites her lip, trying to hold back the moan that threatens to escape. She can’t let him win that easily, not when he’s already got her halfway undone with just a few well-placed touches.

But when he finally slides a finger inside her, she’s lost, her body arching into him despite herself.

He knows exactly what he’s doing, dragging her toward the edge with a practiced ease that only makes her want him more. The pleasure coils tighter and tighter until she’s gasping, muffling her sounds against his shoulder as she comes, her body trembling from the intensity.

But it’s not enough. Not even close. She’s still aching, still needy, and she knows he’s fully aware of it.

“Lewis,” she breathes, her voice a low plea. “I need more than this.”

His laugh is soft, almost indulgent, as if he expected nothing less. “Patience, babe.”

The car begins to slow, and she glances out the window. She can only assume it’s their next stop in whatever he’s got planned.

He withdraws his hand, leaving her feeling achingly empty. But the promise of more, of what’s to come, is enough to keep her on edge, her pulse quickening as he opens the door and steps out, offering her his hand.

“Come on,” he says, that damn smirk back in place. “We’re not done yet.”

As Y/n steps out of the car, the cool evening air wraps around her, a welcome help to the heat still simmering within her.

She takes Lewis’s hand, not because she needs it, but because it’s part of the unspoken dance they’ve been doing for over a year now.

He leads her up a discreet side entrance, the back of another hotel, and it doesn’t take long for her to recognize it.

The same damn place she’d snuck out of this morning, trying to preserve a shred of her dignity. And here she is, to end the day right back where she started it.

The universe’s funny like that.

They move quickly and quietly through the hallways, Lewis’s hand gripping hers with an easy familiarity. The top floor, naturally—because Lewis doesn’t do anything by halves.

When they finally enter his room, he pauses, turning to face her. There’s something different in his eyes, a seriousness that wasn’t there before. But before she can analyze it, he’s speaking.

“I believe you’ve got two things that are mine,” he says, voice low and smooth.

She arches a brow, trying to play it cool even though her heart is thudding in her chest. “Oh…two?”

He steps closer, and she can feel the warmth radiating from his body. “My hair tie you took with you this morning” he says, nodding toward her wrist where the band sits snugly.

She glances down at it, remembering how he’d used it to pull her hair back last night when his hands were too busy holding her in place.

A small smirk tugs at her lips as she looks back at him.

“And you, babe” he continues, his voice dropping an octave. “You’re mine.”

She huffs a laugh in his face, half-amused, half-challenged. She turns from him and sits on the sofa, crossing her legs as she slowly let’s her head fall to the side and her lips pout “Yours? I don’t remember ever saying yes to anything.”

Lewis smiles, but there’s something in his eyes that’s deadly serious. He closes the distance between them, his hand lifting to cup her chin, forcing her to meet his gaze. “Will you, then? Let whatever this is stay in the past and be my partner?”

Damn him.

She was just here for the sex, the fun, the thrill of sneaking around with one of the most recognizable men on the planet. But he’s gone and done it—turned the tables on her when she least expected it.

And of course, she wants to scream to the top of the roof she does. But she’s not going to make it that easy for him.

A slow smile spreads across her face, and she uses his arms to help herself up, bringing her face level with his. Her other hand finds its way to his jawline, her thumb brushing lightly against the beard there.

She leans in, her lips barely grazing his ear as she whispers, “You’re gonna have to do a lot better than that, Romeo.”

And then she pulls back just enough to see the flicker of surprise in his eyes before she leaves a kiss at the corner of his lips.

With a teasing glance, she turns and strides towards the bed by the windows, peeling off her shirt as she goes.

She doesn’t look back until she reaches for the hooks on her bra. Then, with a wicked grin, she glances over her shoulder at him. “Aren’t you gonna help me with that?”

There’s a heartbeat of hesitation, and then she hears him move, the soft sound of his footsteps on the carpet as he closes the distance between them.

Because this is what they do—challenge, tease, and drive each other crazy.

Only this time, the prize is that much bigger.

She can feel it in the way his hands are just a little gentler, his touch lingering a little longer as he reaches for her.

And as much as she wants to hold onto her bravado, there’s a part of her that’s ready to see where this path might lead them.

But first, there’s the matter of making him earn it.

______________________________________________________________

TAGLIST - @saturnssunflower @xoscar03 @chocolatediplomatdreamerzonk @itsmrshamilton @vicurious28

@0710khj @thecubanator2 @neilakk @bigratbitchsworld @adriswrld

@fearfam69691 @cmleitora @goldenroutledge @timmychalametsstuff @jpgnsf

@priopp123 @strqirlhrts @hmmmmm-01 @bisexual-babygirl-mj @bebesobrielo

If you’d like to be added to my taglist you can leave a comment or send me a dm/ask.

#f1 imagine #f1 fanfic #f1 scenario #f1 x reader #lewis hamilton smut #lewis hamilton #lh #lh44 #lewis #lewis x reader #lewis imagine #lewis hamilton fanfic #lewis hamilton x reader #lewis hamilton one shot #lewis hamilton imagine #lh44 x reader #lh44 imagine #lewis hamilton x you

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maskedcrawford · 30 days ago

Text

Permanently Yours

G-Dragon x Reader

Summary: You surprise Jiyong with a tattoo that only makes him more obsessed with you.

Warnings: Pure fluff

A/N: Anon, feel free to let me know if this wasn't what you wanted! I hope you enjoy this sweet story, it was so fun to write!

Requests are OPEN

You walk out of the tattoo parlor with the fresh ink on your skin, examining the art work. You had gotten a few tattoos before after hearing how Ji raved about them. But he knew about those, and they were special to you but this one was going to be special for both of you.

You look at the artwork of a dragon once more in the mirror when you got home. A dragon with the date of your relationship stamped above it. A lot of people told you it was risky to get it because what if you and GD break up? It’s kinda permanent, but you loved the man so much you wanted to put some kind of claim on your body that you were his, even though everyone knew.

“Babe? You here?” you hear him call out. You carefully slide your shirt over your body again to hide the artwork. You had a photoshoot tomorrow for Vogue and wanted to surprise him there with it.

“Hey, jagiya,” he smiles as he see’s you walk out of your shared room. He jogs over to you and wraps his arms around your back, right where the fresh wound is still healing. It’s not like it was a small tattoo, it spanned the space of your back almost completely. He notices you wince before he goes in to give you a hug.

“What? Did I hurt you? Are you ok?” he goes to move around you like he wants to inspect you but you take his hands in yours and bring him back in front of you.

“I’m sore, from a work out today, is all.” You smile as you lie right through your teeth and give him the usual welcome home kiss. You wake up the next morning carefully making sure to clean and moisturize your new art piece. Ji-yong loved art in general and you were sure the masterpiece on your back would get his attention.

“Babe we have to go, I’ll be late,” you giggle as Jiyong fusses with a button on his shirt.

“Here,” you say as she drops his hand like a frustrated child.

“Now you look perfect,” you kiss his nose and he once again places his hand on your back putting unwanted pressure.

“Oh, shit,” he quickly removes his hand, “It’s ok.” You have to practically restrain yourself to not scratch at it.

At the studio you’re getting dressed and Ji is waiting patiently. You fill the photographer in on the plan of how you want to unveil the surprise back piece. He nods in approval, as long as he can use it for the shoot which you oblige.

You take the first few shots, moving in different poses and you notice the look of pride on Ji-yong’s face as you do.

“All right, lets get her changed,” a costume designer shouts and you can barely contain your excitement. Ji-yong sits on his phone on a nearby bench.

“So you can get his reaction right?” you whisper to the photographer who assures you it’ll look great. You walk back to the set with a large towel covering your back. They get you set up and you take a deep breath.

“Ji-yong,” you call over your shoulder. He looks like clearly lost in his phone.

“Come here,” you motion for him. He walks over to you looking concerned.

“We’re gonna have you stand here,” the photographer positions him where he needs to be to be in the shot.

“What, I’m not,”

“Just hold still,” the man says, “3.. 2.. 1.. drop the towel,” he says and you let the towel drape off your back and you turn your head to look over at your boyfriend.

His eyes are wide and his mouth slightly open. He walks up to you, getting a closer look at the dragon.

“What did, babe,” is all he can say before you let out a giggle.

“You like,” you question with the biggest smile on your face.

“I fucking love it! Holy shit that’s so sexy!” He keeps his hands above the tattoo so you don’t have to wash it again.

“This is why you’re back hurt yesterday?” he says partly questioning and partly knowing. You nod your head, pulling your bottom lip between your teeth. He goes around to your front and gives you the biggest kiss. You finish the photo shoot for the day and all your boyfriend can talk about is the tattoo.

“I’m glad you like it, Oppa.” He looks at you like a prized possession. As soon as it’s healed he can’t keep his hands off it, constantly dragging his finger tips across it, and you, as much as he can.

“Its just, you’re really mine now,” he breathes after again staring at it.

“I was yours beforehand.”

“Yeah, but now it’s permanent, no removing me from your life. Not completely.” He smirks.

“I mean, tattoo removal has come a long way,” you tease. He looks genuinely offended for a moment.

“Don’t even joke about that. Now everyone that see’s this knows your mine and that’s how it’s going to stay,” he cups your cheeks giving you a sweet kiss. You smile against his lips happy that he loves the artwork.

When the magazine comes out he practically frames the cover. It’s a picture of you looking over your shoulder with the tattoo clearly visible.

“Right above the bed!” he shouts and you laugh at his child like enthusiasm.

“OH man, and this one needs its own frame,” he starts tearing out all the pictures from the magazine.”

“Babe, I wanted to read those!” you chuckle.

“Here, I got two. One to read and or take with me on the road, and this one is to hang up in our room, proudly displayed. We need something for the living room,” he pauses, “Oh, we’ll do our own little shoot at home,” he wiggles his brows as he gets his camera. You take multiple pictures as he makes sure to capture you in the best positions and lighting, he can, even taking you outside and to shops snapping pictures.

“Babe, I think we have enough,” you say as you sip on the warm beverage in your hand with a heartwarming smile.

“Just one more, hold the cup to your lips, yeah like that,” he takes one last picture and smiles proud of himself.

“Perfect.” Once your home he starts mapping out the areas of where he wants to place the pictures and you can’t help but love how artistic and excited he is. ��

“I’m glad you find it so appealing, nae sarang.” You whisper as you put your arms around his waist and hug him from the back.

If you enjoyed and want to support me, buy me a coffee

“A work of art must be treasured. And you my dear, are more priceless than the Mona Lisa,” he compliments with a sweet, deep kiss before turning back to the walls to map out where he wants each picture.

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swordsandholly · 8 months ago

Text

Treat Me Gently (Because No One Else Will)

Ch 1: The Arrangement | next | masterlist | Ao3

Ghoap x reader | MDNI 18+ | cw: PiV sex, fingering

You yawn and stretch, back popping all the way up as you finally give it some reprieve from your hours of sitting at your low coffee table that doubles as your work station. As much as you try to stop hunching like a goblin, you always slip back into it. It’s hard when your mind gets lost in the words and the pages flying by. Good posture seems to equal bad writing, unfortunately.

Your knees pop slightly as you stand up from your cushion that doubles as a ‘chair’, decidedly clocking out for the evening. Really, you should have stopped two hours ago, but you just can’t get this one damn scene right. You sigh, heading to your dresser to change out of your “work” clothes and into a ratty, oversized shirt and pajama shorts. Your phone dings just as you go to stand in front of the fridge that you already know is practically empty.

S >> Come over?

S >> I got takeout.

You snicker. Perfunctory and presumptuous, as usual. He timed it out for when he knew you’d be done with work - even taking in your propensity to go well passed your designated office hours. He probably knew you were out of food, too. Not that you’d ever expect less from Simon Riley.

>> Give me 5

You pad across the the hallway between your flats, the dangling of your keys echoing off the old walls. The floorboards always creak, announcing your presence before you could even knock on the door. Simon’s place is bigger than yours - a one bedroom as opposed to your studio. Both have small balconies, his furnished with only two fold-out chairs. You’ve tried to convince him to get a plant or something, but he just insists it will die in a day despite that being literally impossible. The whole of the apartment is sparsely decorated - the main features being that of his well worn L-shaped couch and the fancy surround sound system Simon installed. The rest of it made up of shelves lined with physical media and books.

“Evenin’.” Simon says from his kitchen as you let yourself in. He stands at the island, broad shoulders hunched as he fiddles with something.

The lock clicks behind you when you shut the door. Some soft classical music drifts from the speakers. You don’t recognize it, but you also know that asking will result in a lecture that will undoubtedly become a pop quiz at a later date. You don’t need another Tchaikovsky incident on your hands.

“Sushi?” Your brows raise as you eye the rolls and sashimi. He really went all out. “What’s the occasion?”

Simon shrugs, plating the food up on his uniform black, square plates. Yours sits neatly on a plate of it’s own, soy sauce and all. Sometimes you wonder if he keeps an index of your take out orders or if his memory is just that good. “Shipping out soon. Figured I’d get it while I could.”

You grin and move behind him. He shivers slightly as you push your cool hands up under his shirt to run along his strong core. “Doesn’t have anything to do with the whole aphrodisiac thing?”

“Don’t know what you’re talkin’ about, bird.” Simon feigns ignorance. The corner of his mouth briefly quirks up before he forces it back down.

“Sure, sure.” You retract your hands, wandering over to pick up the TV remote off the well worn coffee table. “Which movie are we on?”

“Blackwell Ghost 5.”

You settle in your usual spot on the couch, leaning on the right armrest. Simon has always liked the middle - he says it’s the best for his back. You know it’s just because he likes to manspread five miles wide. It doesn’t bother you, as you generally prefer to curl up in the corner with your feet tucked. The movie rolls and you eat in comfortable silence, humming around the fresh food. He really does spoil you, sometimes.

You eye Simon while you eat. With anybody else this would all be pretense - an unnecessary preamble to imply, somehow, that this is more than a booty call. Not with Simon. Never with Simon. This is just as important as the rest of it. You watch the way his hands practically dwarf the single-use chopsticks, the way his body melts into the cushions. Your eyes rake over the strong planes of his face littered with various scars; his nose broken one too many times, the ear that’s been slightly clipped by a bullet. His hair has grown out and more stubble sprinkles across his jaw than he usually allows.

“Wotcha lookin’ at?” Simon mumbles around some tuna.

You tilt your head, smiling. “You’re fun to watch.”

“Creep.” He nudges your foot with his knee.

“Freak.” You push back.

“’ow’s the book goin’?” Simon asks.

You groan, shoving your last piece of sushi in your mouth while you debate your answer. “S’fine. Slow. My agent is being a real pain in my ass.”

He hums, that slight smirk gracing his lips. If you knew him any less you might have missed it entirely. “Need some inspiration?”

You sputter out a laugh, placing your plate on the coffee table. “Very smooth, Riley.”

“C’mere.” Simon rumbles, wrapping an arm around your waist to pull you over his lap. It’s almost uncomfortable how far you have to stretch to accommodate his hips, but its so worth it as his hands rest on your waist, grinding you down against him. You gasp, giving him entrance to press his lips to yours - tongue flicking over your lower lip.

One hand tangles in his hair, the other caressed downward, shoving his shirt up and tracing the lines of muscle across his torso. You’ve always loved bodies - loved taking in their shapes and texture, their variety - and Simon’s has so much to take in. Ridges of muscle and scars, plus that little plush layer over his middle he gets while home from deployment. You tug on his shirt, only breaking the kiss long enough to yank it off and toss it somewhere on the floor.

“Y’so fuckin’ pretty…” Simon mumbles, hands wandering from your waist, to your hips, to knead at your thighs and the curve of your ass.

You squeak as Simon lifts you, locking your legs around his waist. No matter how many times he does it, his strength still catches you off guard. He doesn’t unlock from your lips, moving back to his room purely based on muscle memory. You have to resist the urge to tease him about the time he knocked your head against the doorframe in this exact position.

Your hands drift over the curvature of his broad shoulders as he lays you back on his bed. You can’t help but be fascinated by him - all hard muscle and sinew. So different from your own soft figure. Even the pads of his fingers are rough as they push under your oversized t-shirt, kneading at the soft layer over your middle.

“This okay?” Simon mumbles in your ear. You nod vigorously as his hands move up, up, up until he’s pulling your shirt and bralette off in one swift motion.

Simon buries his face in your chest, nipping at the sensitive skin before taking a nipple in his mouth. You arch into the touch, unsure of where to put your hands and opting to let them wander.

“May I?” He murmurs, fingers catching in the hems of your underwear and sleep shorts. Again, you nod, forgetting that isn’t enough for him at this stage. “Use your words.”

“Yes! Please, Si.” You whine, rolling your hips against the too-light touch.

Simon chuckles at you, pulling your bottoms off and dropping them onto the floor somewhere. He runs his fingers between your folds, obviously reveling in the way your breath catches and your chest heaves when he finally circles your clit. His lips connect with yours, swallowing every gasp and moan as he presses a finger inside.

“Fuckin’ tight t’night, bird.” He grumbles into your mouth. “‘ave I been neglecting you?”

Quite the opposite. If anything, he’s fucked you silly this past week, but you can’t exactly argue that when he presses against your g-spot and retakes your nipple between his teeth.

“Oh, fuck!” You moan as a second finger joins the first. Your nails dig lightly into his shoulders when he pressed his thumb against your clit, moving in short circles to the rhythm of the fingers inside you. You swear he’s too dexterous to be human sometimes.

You keen, body tensing as stars dance behind your eyes. You can feel the slickness of your cunt on your thighs, the squelch of Simon’s slowed movements almost too lewd.

He only disappears long enough to shuck off his pants before he’s hovering back over you, tucked into the crook of your neck. Simon gives you a moment to come down, cooing praises in your ear. “Doin’ so good f’me. Always so good f’me.”

He sits back to lightly tap his cock against your pussy, sending jolts up your spine, obviously enjoying your reaction. He grinds his cock against you, sliding easily between your soaked folds. “Christ.”

Simon reaches into the nightstand, plucking a condom out from their designated spot. He hands it to you for inspection, as always. You don’t really understand why he still does it after the two of you have had this standing agreement for so long, but it’s not a gesture you’re going to call into question. Some of Simon’s sexual habits are simply best left as they are - they’re always for your mutual benefit, anyway. You flip it over in your fingers briefly before passing it back.

No matter how many times you take him, it’s always a stretch. He’s not the biggest you’ve had, but thick enough the sensation would teeter into pain without any preparation. That’s another thing he insists on: pain has no place in intimacy.

Your lips fall open in a pitchy moan - hands fisting the sheets on either side of you. Simon falls onto his forearms resting on either side of your head. You revel in the way he cages you in, the way his tongue laps at the sweat-slicked skin of your collar bone. You both sigh in sync as his hips finally settle against yours.

You wrap your legs tightly around his back as he begins to move. A solid rhythm slowly turning into something more desperate. Simon sits up, his weight suddenly off you. Just as you crack your eyes open his hands grab tightly onto your hips, lifting them just off the bed. The new angle ruts him against that spot inside you, pushing you over the edge into another orgasm faster than you can process it.

He eventually lets go of your hips, one hand braces by your head, the other tracing your body. Plucking at your nipples, kneading at the flesh of your thighs, pressing onto your soft stomach to emphasize the fullness with him inside you.

“Give me another.” Simon demands, thumb pressing to your clit. His eyes bore through you, watching your every minute expression. “C’mon, one more, sweetheart.”

Sweetheart. A rarer pet name - one you’d probably be pissed about coming from anyone else. With Simon it melts into your bones, pooling at the base of your spine. Your eyes roll back, pathetic sounds and babbling falling from your lips as you cum again in such a short span.

“Fuck.” He grunts, voice low and breathless in your ear. “Cunt feels so fucking good when you cum f’me.”

You whine, useless under him. Your limbs are utter jelly. Even as you try to roll your hips with his, your movement is stuttered. Uncontrolled. You know he enjoys how sensitive you are, how pliant you become. It feeds his ego - the part of him that needs to do things right. Your body shudders under Simon’s as he groans, all depth and gravel, his hips stuttering and slowing as he cums.

You both stop, for a moment, foreheads pressed together as you catch your breath enough for Simon to push himself up, tying off the condom and tossing it before falling into his back beside you.

A silence lapses over you - the only sound in the room is that of your breathing with a slight pitch difference between your breaths. You’ve always loved this part. The quiet afterglow. The gentle way Simon will reach over to soothe down your hair while you lazily meet his eye. No words, no expectations. Just existing with someone in your vulnerability. With someone you know is safe.

“Go piss.” Simon points to the bathroom as soon as his breath is even.

You snort, pushing yourself up on slightly shaky arms. “So demanding.”

“So considerate.” He quips back. “It’s important.”

“Fine, fine.” You throw your hands up and pad off to the bathroom. You pause, looking at yourself in the mirror. What is it about Simon’s bathroom that makes you so much more beautiful than your own? Your skin glows nicely, your hair shines even as it’s mussed up from getting fucked six ways to Sunday.

When you come back Simon’s sitting up against the headboard, scrolling through something on his phone. You crawl back into bed beside him, flopping on your back and staring at the ceiling fan as it circles, circles, circles.

“When do you have to leave?”

He sighs, dropping his phone back onto the nightstand. “End of the week.”

You nod, accepting the oncoming semi-dry spell as usual. You’ve always wondered what he does when he’s gone - if he has another you out there. Another arrangement. You can’t imagine Simon going more than a couple days without someone. That’s what brought you into this in the first place - a mutual benefit. You don’t truly feel the need to ask; it’s more curiosity than anything and you don’t want the question to go misinterpreted. Not that Simon would, necessarily, he’s always been good about taking your words at face value.

With a sigh, you roll onto your side to face him, head propped on your hand. “Know where you’re heading?”

“Mexico.” Simon grunts in that tone that signals you to stop asking questions.

You trail your fingers over his chest, through the dusting of blonde hair. “Wanna go again?”

“Fuck yes.” He rolls over. You can’t help but giggle as he knocks your knees apart and eagerly plants himself between your thighs.

banner by @the-aesthetics-shop

#simon ghost riley #john soap mactavish #ghoap #ghoap x reader #simon ghost riley x reader #john soap mctavish x reader #soap x reader #ghost x reader #simon ghost x reader #johnny soap mactavish #john soap x reader #fem reader #plus size reader #simon ghost smut #cod smut #reader insert smut

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dorabellingham · 4 months ago

Text

Fashion critic

warning: words of a "sexual nature"

characters: jude x fem!reader

summary: when you do some shopping and he wants to analyze all the pieces of clothing, or better yet, admire his girl

may contain spelling and translation errors!

After finishing opening all the boxes, Jude was sitting on the couch, watching the veritable parade of luxury you had brought home. He shook his head, sometimes in disbelief, sometimes in amusement, as she arranged everything around you. Between shoes, bags, dresses, and even a pair of sunglasses that he swore he had seen you wear something similar to, the room looked like a designer store. Jude stretched his legs out on the couch and crossed his arms, with a mischievous smile on his face.

—Okay, sweetheart, let’s go. Since you spent all this money -with my money, by the way, I think you should at least try it on for me.

You stopped folding one of the bags and turned to him, with an arched eyebrow.

—Oh, really? And why would I do that, Jude?

He shrugged, still smiling.

—Because I’m the official sponsor of this game, and I have the right to approve the investment. What if something isn't worth what it cost?

You rolled your eyes, but couldn't help but smile.

—Oh, so now you want to be a fashion critic, babe?

—Exactly, babe. —He leaned forward, patting the cushion next to him. —Come on, go ahead. Show me what my money bought.

You huffed, but grabbed one of the dresses from the bag and went to the bedroom.

—Only because I know you love seeing me wearing these things.

—And without them too.

He muttered mischievously, and you threw a shoe in his direction before disappearing.

When you came back, wearing a short black dress that perfectly highlighted your curves, Jude's eyes widened, whistling softly.

—Wow. See? That was worth it, sweetie.

You twirled around in an exaggerated way, as if you were on a runway.

—So, Mr. Critic? Do I pass the test?

—Easy. —He smiled and gestured for you to come back. —Next.

You laughed, but kept changing clothes and coming back with different pieces. A long, flowing dress, boots that made you look taller, elegant jackets, and even a super stylish sweatsuit that you used to tease.

—This one is for when you make me lazy at home.

You said, laughing.

Jude was having more fun with each change, applauding exaggeratedly at some and even getting up to adjust details in others.

When you appeared with a red silk dress, that hugged your body in a way that seemed to have been tailored, your boyfriend was silent for a few seconds, just staring.

—So, Bellingham? Aren't you going to say anything?

You asked, tilting your head.

He got up from the couch, approaching slowly.

—I think this one�� — He left the sentence hanging in the air, holding your waist and sliding his hands over the fabric. —It should be just for me.

You laughed, pushing his chest lightly.

—Oh, sure. Because I'm going to spend all of this to use it just here at your house.

—If you're going to make me like this... yes.

You rolled your eyes, but your cheeks blushed slightly. Jude noticed and smiled even more.

—Come on, go. Is there more or is it over?

He teased.

You sighed dramatically.

—There's more. But if you don't stop being conceited, I'll save the rest for another time.

He walked away with his hands raised.

—Okay, okay. I promise to be serious. Go ahead.

When you came back for the last time, wearing an oversized blazer and knee-high boots, he couldn't help but smile.

—That's... that's so you, babe. It suits you perfectly.

You smiled, adjusting your blazer.

—So I passed the test? Was it worth the investment?

—You passed with flying colors. But... — He pulled you by the hand, making her sit on his lap. —I don't think it was an investment. It was a gift. You deserve all of this.

You laughed, wrapping your arms around his neck.

—And you think I don’t know that you love to spoil me?

—Of course I do. But now… —He looked at you with a twinkle in his eyes. —I think I’m going to need a few more close-up evaluations.

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sparklystarrrr · 5 days ago

Text

Ignition Under My Touch

Synopsis: Idia finds himself a bit jealous at the amount of attention you're getting on your recent vacation post

Contains: Idia S. x Fem! Reader, sensual scenes (nothing NSFW), flirting, a bit of a Dom!Reader but mostly Dom!Idia, lots of nicknames(pretty boy, pretty girl, baby, ect.), minimal clothing removal, bikini/vacation pics, some cursing, possessive Idia, body descriptions, consensual video/picture taking, groping

It was a simple ping of the phone that attracted the fire-haired boys attention. You, his girlfriend, sat in his bed on your phone, lazily staring at the screen which displayed a plethora of comments likes and dms from random people. Comments and dms varied from simply complimenting the bikini or your looks, to flirtier things like praising your body and asking for your number. Seeing these random people flooding your comments like leeches made him feel something in his gut that he was rather unfamiliar with. He grumbled at the giggle leaving your glossy lips while reading the comments aloud. It got exceedingly harder to focus on the boss fight panned out over his multiple monitors at his desk. That itchy, heavy feeling grabbed at his body and possessed it.

"(y/n), don't entertain those creeps..." He grumbled while shutting down the game on his computer and spinning his chair around to face you. Your tank top hugged each and every curve and piece of fat on your torso. Your shorts were so loose on your hips he saw the band of your panties peaking out. It pulled him in like a sailor to a siren's song. Your sweet voice added fire to the flame creeping up in his heart."Don't worry pretty boy, they know who I belong to~" You cooed. Twisting your body to face him, you raise your brow. The young man stood up with his head tilted slightly down causing a shadow over his glowing yellow eyes. His flaming hair grew furious and the tips became a magenta pink.

"What's wrong baby?" You spoke worriedly at his sudden change in demeanor."Nothing." He sat down uncharacteristically close to you on the bed where you laid in wait for him. His slender pale hands grabbed your phone which had your post still fully displayed for him. In the pictures, the two of you had gone on a trip to the Hero's Island beaches where it had been incredibly sunny and hot so obviously you wore bathing suits most of the time, but the one your body dawned in the post was his favorite by far. It was a black lace ensemble with small blue embroidered flowers on the top that cupped your breasts perfectly and small bottoms that were the same in design but had the prettiest little blue bows tied on the side. The way the bikini hugged every part of you perfectly was salivating. He was starting to understand why you were getting so much attention in this post, but he didn't let that stop his jealousy.

"I can see what these normies are talking about, but only I should be saying that..."He handed your phone back with shaky hands and looked at you through his wild blue flames. His hand crept closer to the fat of your thigh while your hands rested atop his, leading them to where you wanted."I know pretty boy, only my Idia can say that stuff~" It almost seemed like you were just teasing him to joke around, but he wasn't joking one bit. His cheeks flushed at your seductive words, you had him wrapped around your delicate fingers so tight. His chest heaved while tracing the moles scattered across the supple (s/c) skin of your thigh. The way your (e/c) eyes looked up at him through thick black lashes drew him in closer and increased his flaming desire. He had to show you how you were only his, along with all those creepy losers.

His hand went from hesitantly tracing your skin to gripping it, rubbing circles and moving to the fat of your hips concealed by loose shorts. Your knowing smirk only made him look away at the newfound shyness. Panicking a bit at you suddenly moving to sit up impossibly closer to him, he pulled his hand away. You smiled, moving up to his ear and grabbing his hand, placing it back on your hip,"Keep going Idia." It was as if it was a command. He followed your order eagerly, his touch growing more aggressive as he felt himself warming up and seeing your dominance over him waver and crack.

He grabbed your hips with both hands and slid you into his lap. His chest pressed against your own as he spoke a bit more confidently into your ear,"You're mine (y/n)." His voice was deep and clear as water to you. All he needed was that little mewl you squeaked out confirming his statement to get him going. His lips connected feverishly against your neck while his teeth grazed against it leaving behind bites and purple marks. Your hands wrapped tightly around his neck and pulled him closer at the sudden pleasure enveloping your body. His hands made their way to your waist under the fabric of your top while kissing up your neck and connecting your lips passionately. You felt your breath physically be taken away from you.

Pulling away to catch your breath, you look at him wide eyes. He lookes at you with a smirk and a needy look in his eyes while grabbing his phone and opening the camera app,"...Would you let me do this? Just a few pics... I wanna show those magicam idiots you're mine..." Idia had never been this bold before and honestly it surprised you, but at the same time it was just so sexy. Without a second thought you feverishly nodded your head yes and pulled him in closer by the top of his hoodie. Your fingers nimbly clasped the zipper and pulled it down revealing his stripped shirt that subtly showed his muscles. You tore the rest of the oversized hoodie off of his body and grabbed onto his bicep, pressing your slightly swollen lips against his.

His hands went back under your top, this time one was on your back to hold you in place while his other hand held his phone ready to take a picture of the two of you devouring each other's faces. He got the perfect angle where your practically melting into his body, chests against each other, lips connected by the glue of your love, and cleavage spilling out over your top. He dropped his phone to grasp your thin strap and pull it off your shoulder, revealing clear and glittering skin and a seductive white bra strap. His desire to pull off your shirt to feel you closer was so incredibly strong and he just couldn't resist. His hands grasped with unusual gentleness onto the bottom of your tank top and pulled it off you. He bit his lip. This was so much better than winning any boss fight. Staring at you in your white bra and hands gripping his biceps with that needy and flushed look, he heaved"Fuck..." Grabbing his phone once more, he pointed it at you"Lemme take a pic of you. Pose for me, pretty girl." His hands shook while capturing this sensual moment. The way your chest heaved and those little noises left your mouth made him feel like he was in paradise.

Following his previous action, you traced the top of his sweatpants, trailing your hands to the end of his own long-sleeved shirt. He stared at you wide eyed while his hair went completely pink. He wasn't expecting this out of you. You pulled his shirt off with ease and revealed his pale skin that rippled with soft muscles. You dipped your head down to his neck, leaving behind a trail of delicate purple splotches. His hand tangled in your hair while the other got busy playing with the small blue bow attached to your bra between your breasts. Your body pressed closer, moving his hand to cup your supple breast in his hand and giving it a generous squeeze. Next to his ear, your pitched whimper made him roll his head back"Shit pretty girl, keep doing that..." Little did you know, his fingers were busy on his phone recording each and every noise you made as a result of his hands and mouth.

When you pulled away to fill your lungs with air again, he tilted your head up with his fingers to capture the purple bruising and bite marks scattering your neck and shoulders. He pulled down both your bra straps to save the memory of your pure skin being decorated with his markings. He smiled at you as he finished making a secret album on his phone of all the pictures and videos of you"...You're really gonna post that stuff?" You asked quietly. His smile faltered a bit in shame, "I mean, I don't need to post it if ya don't want me to." You smiled at him and giggled softly,"Post it baby, show them I'm yours~" You say in a teasing tone while crawling off his lap, making sure to press your chest near his face to tease him further.

And with a quick peck on the lips you grab your tank top and slip it back on. "I'm gonna go grab some snacks for us, brb pretty boy!" After cheerfully closing the door, Idia turned into a red flushing mess. He stared at the door, then back at the sensual photos he collected from before. "Damn... that girl really is mine... yus!"He cheered silently to himself as he hit post on the pictures he selected. He bagged a baddie and she was all his to show off, mark up with his teeth, and rant about his nerdy interests to, what more could this man ask for!

Oooooo how scandalous of me to write this! I've been wanting to write something steamy recently sooo, here you go, you hungry Idia fans!(kinda feels like in throwing a piece of meat into a lion cage)

(this is my first steamy post ever, pls be nice to me I'm just a princess)

#twisted wonderland #twst x reader #twisted wonderland x reader #disney twisted wonderland #twisted wonderland fanfic #twst fanfic #idia shroud #idia shroud x reader #idia x reader #ignihyde

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xichilie · 1 month ago

Note

Oh my god I love your Brant fanfics! You write so well and do him justice 🥺 Could I ask for a Brant X Reader where they used to be childhood sweethearts before he got banished but when they finally reunite after the Carnevale and while they have changed physically as they have grown up into adulthood, their feelings have remained the same throughout all those years? 🫶🏻

Omg yes, I've been thinking about this for a while, especially since it was said he was banished at a young age, my poor baby suffered a lot i just wanna hug him and shower him with all the love he deserves 🥺

Brant x (fem) reader

A Reunion Written in the Stars

Ragunna had not changed.

The towering cathedrals still cast long shadows over the cobblestone streets, their stained-glass windows catching the dying light of day. The scent of salt and incense lingered in the air, the same strange mix of the sacred and the sea that Brant had known since childhood. People still moved in measured steps, heads bowed in whispered prayer or quiet murmurs of uncertainty.

No, Ragunna had not changed.

But Brant had.

He was a child the last time he stood on these streets—small, trembling, filled with the kind of fear that only children could know. He had clutched at his mother’s hand as the Order of the Deep passed judgment upon him. Faithless, they had called him. A Fool. And fools, as everyone knew, did not belong in Ragunna.

He had been thrown onto the Pilgrim’s Sail, an exile meant to end in death. Yet against all odds, against the cruel designs of fate itself—he had survived. And now, years later, he had returned.

The people whispered as he walked past, their eyes full of wary recognition. Some murmured his name as if summoning a ghost. Others looked away, unsure of how to meet his gaze. He ignored them all.

There was only one person he cared to see.

His feet moved with instinct, following streets he had not walked in over a decade. Each step was heavy, his breath tight in his chest. What if she had left? What if she had moved on? The world had continued without him, as much as it pained him to admit it. He had no right to expect her to wait for him.

But still—he had to know.

Then, as he turned the final corner, he saw it. The house was the same as he remembered, worn but well-kept, bathed in the golden glow of the evening sun.

And then—

"Brant?"

His heart stopped.

She stood in the doorway, framed by the dying light, her figure so achingly familiar and yet so different. Her hair was longer now, the softness of childhood replaced by the quiet strength of a woman grown. Her eyes, though—those same fierce, determined eyes—had not changed at all.

Brant stood frozen as he took in the sight of Y/N, his heart pounding in his chest. He had imagined this moment countless times, rehearsed his words, but now that she was in front of him, nothing could have prepared him for the sheer depth of emotion washing over him.

Y/N stared at him, her lips parting slightly as if she were struggling to believe what she was seeing. Her eyes, once bright with youthful mischief, now brimmed with unshed tears. She took a hesitant step forward, then another, before suddenly breaking into a run.

"Brant!" she cried, her voice thick with emotion.

Before he could brace himself, she collided into him, arms wrapping tightly around his torso. The force nearly knocked him off balance, but he quickly steadied himself, his own arms coming around her in a desperate embrace. The scent of her hair, the warmth of her body—it was all so achingly familiar, yet distant, as if pulled from a dream he had long ago abandoned hope of reliving.

"You're here..." Her voice cracked as she gripped his coat tightly, her shoulders trembling. "You're really here."

Brant felt a lump form in his throat. He gently tilted her face up to his, brushing away the tears that slipped down her cheeks with his calloused fingers. "I told you I’d come back," he whispered, his own voice unsteady.

A broken sob escaped her lips as she buried her face in his chest, her fingers clutching at his coat as though he might disappear again if she let go. Brant held her tighter, pressing a lingering kiss to the top of her head.

"I thought I lost you forever," she admitted between sobs.

Brant’s arms tightened around her, his hand running soothingly up and down her back. "Never," he murmured, pressing his forehead against hers. "I survived, Y/N. And I fought my way back to you."

Y/N hiccuped, half-laughing, half-crying. "You idiot. You always were too stubborn."

Brant chuckled, though his own eyes shimmered with emotion. "And you always worried too much."

She pulled back just enough to meet his gaze, her hands still resting on his chest. "I missed you so much."

His expression softened as he cupped her cheek, his thumb tracing soothing circles against her skin. "I missed you too. More than words can say."

For a moment, they just stood there, lost in each other's presence. The world around them faded into the background—the bustling city, the curious onlookers, the weight of the past. All that remained was the warmth between them, the unspoken promise in their embrace.

Finally, Brant broke the silence, his lips curving into a teasing smirk. "So... does this mean I get a proper welcome home kiss? Or am I going to have to win your heart all over again?"

Y/N laughed through her tears, shaking her head as she cupped his face in her hands. "You never lost it, Brant."

And with that, she pressed her lips to his, sealing the years of longing, heartbreak, and hope into one soul-deep kiss. Brant melted into it, pouring every unspoken word into the way he held her, promising in that moment that he would never let her go again.

She pulled back just enough to look at him, her hands trembling as they reached up to cup his face. Her fingertips ghosted over his cheekbones, tracing the sharper angles that had not been there when they were children.

"You look different," she whispered, searching his face as though memorizing it all over again. "But you're still—" Her voice caught, and she shook her head, blinking back tears. "You're still you."

Brant exhaled shakily, reaching up to cover her hand with his own. "And you’re still you."

A small, broken laugh escaped her, and before she could stop herself, she threw her arms around him once more, burying her face in the crook of his neck. He felt her breath hitch, felt the way her shoulders shook, and his own throat tightened in response.

"I never forgot you," she murmured against his skin.

Brant pressed his forehead to her temple. "Neither did I."

She let out a shaky breath, pulling back just enough to look at him again. "I waited for you," she admitted softly, almost like a confession.

He felt something deep within him crack. He lifted a hand to cradle her cheek, his thumb brushing away a tear she hadn’t even realized had fallen.

"I know," he said, his voice full of quiet reverence. "And I’m so sorry it took so long."

She shook her head fiercely. "You're here now. That’s all that matters."

He swallowed past the lump in his throat, nodding. He wanted to say so much more, wanted to tell her everything—about the years lost, about the countless nights he had thought of her, about the sheer desperation that had kept him going. But for now, this moment was enough.

She took his hands in hers, squeezing them tightly. "Come inside," she urged gently. "Tell me everything."

Brant let out a breath he hadn’t realized he was holding. "I’d like that."

And as she led him through the doorway, into the warmth of the home he had feared he would never see again, he realized—

For the first time in years, he was home.

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chelseaknoo · 1 month ago

Text

Valentine’s Day with Eminem

Eminem x Reader

Caution: semi-sexual content and Marshall’s baby fever <3

Note:sorry it’s a day late! And any era of Eminem you want!

For the past two years, you and Marshall had been together, and despite his usual tough-guy exterior, you knew how much he loved you. He showed it in his own way—whether it was pulling you closer in his sleep, always making sure you were safe, or spoiling you just because he felt like it.

With Valentine’s Day right around the corner, you wanted to do something special for him. Marshall wasn’t the type to get overly sentimental about holidays, but you knew he’d appreciate the thought, even if he acted like it wasn’t a big deal.

After weeks of planning, you finally settled on the perfect gifts—a luxury watch, custom jewelry designed specifically for him, and, of course, a fresh pair of sneakers. You knew he had more shoes than he could ever wear, but the man had a weakness for them, and you loved seeing his face light up when he got a new pair.

The packages sat neatly wrapped in your closet, hidden from sight. You were excited to give them to him, but Valentine’s Day wasn’t here just yet.

One evening, as you sat on the couch scrolling through your phone, Marshall strolled into the living room, his brow slightly furrowed as he looked at you suspiciously.

“You been actin’ sneaky as fuck lately,” he muttered, flopping down next to you. “What the hell you up to?”

You smirked, locking your phone. “What makes you think I’m up to something?”

He narrowed his eyes. “’Cause I know you. Every time you try to hide shit from me, you start actin’ all innocent like that. What is it? You plannin’ some kinda bullshit prank?”

You laughed, shaking your head. “No, Marshall. Not everything I do is about messing with you.”

“Mm-hmm,” he grumbled, still unconvinced. “I swear, if you put hot sauce in my coffee again, I’m dumpin’ your ass.”

You rolled your eyes. “That was one time, and you deserved it.”

“The fuck I do?” he shot back. “I ain’t do nothin’ to you!”

“You called me a brat all day just because I didn’t wanna watch Scarface for the hundredth time.”

Marshall scoffed. “First off, Scarface is a goddamn classic. Second, you are a brat, and third—” He stopped mid-sentence, his eyes narrowing again. “Wait, why are we talkin’ about that? Don’t change the subject. What are you hiding?”

You smirked, leaning in closer to him. “You’ll find out soon enough.”

His lips pressed into a thin line. “I don’t like that.”

“You’ll live,” you teased, giving him a quick peck on the cheek before standing up.

He grabbed your wrist, pulling you back onto his lap, his arms wrapping around your waist. “Nah, see, now I really wanna know,” he murmured, his lips brushing against your neck.

You laughed, pushing at his chest. “You’re not gonna distract me.”

“The fuck I ain’t,” he muttered, nipping at your skin lightly.

You rolled your eyes again but couldn’t help the way your heart fluttered. He really did have a way of making you melt, but you weren’t about to give in that easily.

“Marshall,” you warned playfully.

He sighed dramatically, resting his chin on your shoulder. “Fine. Keep your little secrets. But if I find out you got me some corny-ass matching couple shit, I’m tellin’ you right now, I ain’t wearin’ it.”

You bit your lip to hold back a smile. “Not even if it’s really cool?”

“Not even if Jesus himself came down and told me to put that shit on.”

You laughed, shaking your head. “You’ll just have to wait and see.”

He groaned, tightening his arms around you. “Fuckin’ hate waiting.”

“Too bad,” you teased, kissing his cheek again before slipping out of his grasp.

Valentine’s Day was coming soon, but for now, you’d let him suffer in suspense.

You stirred awake to the faint smell of coffee and something sweet—pancakes, maybe? Your brows furrowed as you turned onto your side, reaching out, only to realize the other side of the bed was empty. That was unusual. Normally, Marshall stayed in bed as long as he could, clinging to you like a damn koala.

You rubbed your eyes and sat up slowly, your hair a mess and your body still heavy with sleep. Just as you were about to call out for him, the bedroom door pushed open, and there he was—your grumpy, foul-mouthed boyfriend, holding a tray of food in one hand and a massive bouquet of deep red roses in the other.

"Happy fuckin’ Valentine’s Day, baby," he said, a smirk tugging at his lips as he made his way over.

You blinked, still half-asleep. "Marshall…?"

"What?" He quirked a brow, setting the tray down on your lap before plopping onto the bed next to you. "Look at that, I ain't completely useless. I ain't burn the fuckin’ kitchen down or nothin’."

A slow, sleepy smile spread across your lips as you looked down at the tray. There was a plate stacked with pancakes—heart-shaped, even—alongside crispy bacon, eggs, and a cup of coffee, just how you liked it.

"You… made this?" you asked, eyeing him suspiciously.

"Well, no shit. You see anybody else in this house?" he scoffed. "I ain't about to let some random motherfucker come in here and cook for my girl."

You chuckled, picking up a piece of bacon. "I mean, I wouldn’t put it past you to have Paul do it."

Marshall snorted. "The fuck would I look like, callin’ Paul at six in the morning talkin’ ‘bout, ‘Yo, come make my girl some breakfast’?"

You laughed, shaking your head before glancing at the roses. "And these?"

"These are also for my girl," he said, handing you the bouquet. "Real as hell, just like you."

Your heart swelled, and you traced your fingers over the soft petals, inhaling the fresh scent. He wasn’t the biggest romantic, but when he did things like this, it meant even more.

"You really went all out," you murmured, looking up at him.

He shrugged, rubbing the back of his neck. "Yeah, well… you deserve it."

Your chest tightened at his words, and you set the roses down beside you before leaning over to kiss him. He cupped the back of your head, deepening it, his other hand slipping under the covers to squeeze your thigh.

"Mmm," you hummed against his lips before pulling back slightly. "This is really sweet, Marshall."

"Yeah, yeah," he muttered, trying to pull you back in. "Eat your damn food before it gets cold."

You smirked. "You just don’t wanna admit you’re a softie."

"The fuck I do," he grumbled.

"Making me breakfast, getting me flowers…" You tilted your head. "You gonna write me a poem next?"

He deadpanned. "You want me to?"

You burst out laughing. "No, no, I’d rather keep my ears intact."

He narrowed his eyes. "You a real fuckin’ comedian, huh?"

You winked, picking up your fork. "Only for you, babe."

He shook his head, muttering under his breath as he leaned back against the headboard, watching you eat.

After finishing your breakfast, you leaned back against the headboard, completely satisfied. “Damn, Marshall,” you said, dabbing your lips with a napkin. “That was actually really good.”

He smirked. “The fuck you mean ‘actually’? Like you expected me to fuck it up?”

You giggled, stretching before glancing over at him. “You said you wanted to take me out, right?”

“Yeah,” he nodded, running a hand through his short blonde hair. “Figured we could do somethin’ nice since it’s Valentine’s Day ‘n’ all.”

You grinned. “Aww, look at you being all romantic.”

He rolled his eyes. “Don’t push it.”

Laughing, you hopped out of bed and stretched again. “Alright, well, I need to get ready.”

Marshall gave you a look. “How long we talkin’? ‘Cause if it’s some two-hour bullshit—”

Before he could finish, you cut him off by playfully shoving him toward the bedroom door. “Go do something productive while I get dressed.”

“I was doin’ somethin’ productive—sittin’ here lookin’ at my beautiful ass girl,” he shot back, smirking.

You shook your head, laughing as you finally managed to push him out and shut the door. Now it was time to get ready.

Thirty Minutes Later

“Babe!”

You heard Marshall’s irritated voice from the other side of the door.

“Yo, what the fuck is takin’ so long? We goin’ out today or next Valentine’s Day?”

You smiled to yourself, carefully applying the last touch of gloss to your lips. “Be patient!”

“Patient? I been sittin’ here for thirty fuckin’ minutes! You better be comin’ out lookin’ like a goddamn supermodel or some shit.”

You smirked at your reflection. Oh, he was definitely going to eat his words.

Finally satisfied, you strutted over to the door and swung it open, stepping out dramatically.

Marshall, who had been leaning against the wall, looking down at his phone, glanced up—and instantly froze.

His blue eyes widened as they slowly traveled from your head to your toes, taking in every damn detail. You were wearing a form-fitting, deep red mini dress that hugged every curve just right. The fabric clung to your body like a second skin, accentuating your waist and hips. The plunging neckline showed off your cleavage, and the thin straps left your shoulders completely bare. The dress stopped mid-thigh, revealing your smooth legs, paired with sleek black stilettos that made them look even longer.

Your makeup was flawless—dark, sultry eyeshadow, long lashes, and your lips painted a soft glossy red to match the dress. Your hair cascaded in perfect waves, framing your face effortlessly.

You smirked. “Well? Supermodel enough for you?”

Marshall blinked, his mouth opening slightly before shutting again. He looked you up and down one more time, then dragged a hand down his face.

“Jesus fuckin’ Christ.”

You giggled, stepping closer. “Is that a good ‘Jesus fuckin’ Christ’ or a bad one?”

He scoffed. “Oh, it’s good, alright. Good enough that now I don’t even wanna go nowhere.” His hands found your hips, pulling you in. “Matter fact, how ‘bout we stay our asses right here?”

You rolled your eyes, pushing at his chest. “Nope, you said we’re going out. Let’s go.”

He groaned, but reluctantly let go, stepping back. “You doin’ this shit on purpose,” he muttered, shaking his head as he grabbed his keys.

You smirked, picking up your clutch. “Maybe.”

“Unbelievable,” he muttered under his breath as you both walked to the car.

Once outside, Marshall opened the passenger door for you, but just as you were about to get in, he grabbed your wrist.

“Hold the fuck up.”

You turned to him, confused. “What?”

His gaze darkened. “This dress—where the fuck is the rest of it?”

You burst out laughing. “Marshall—”

“Nah, I’m serious. This shit barely covers anything,” he grumbled, eyeing the way the fabric stretched over your curves.

“You’re being dramatic,” you teased, leaning in to kiss his cheek.

“Dramatic?” he scoffed. “Nah, ‘cause I already know muthafuckers gonna be lookin’ at you, and then I’ma have to beat somebody’s ass.”

You giggled, sliding into the seat. “You’re cute when you’re jealous.”

“I ain’t jealous,” he muttered, slamming the door before walking around to the driver’s side.

When he got in, he cut you a side glance, still frowning.

You smirked. “If it makes you feel better, I only care about your eyes on me.”

Marshall grunted as he started the car. “Damn right you do.”

You shook your head, still smiling. The night hadn’t even started yet, and it was already entertaining.

After getting into the car, Marshall still hadn't gotten over the dress you were wearing. He kept throwing glances your way, his fingers tapping against the steering wheel as he drove.

“I swear to God, if one muthafucker even thinks about staring at you too long, I’m knockin’ his ass out.”

You laughed, adjusting your seatbelt. “Marshall, relax. I dress like this for you.”

He scoffed. “Yeah, well, I don’t like sharin’.”

You smirked, reaching over to rest your hand on his thigh. “Then maybe you should take me shopping and pick out what you like.”

Marshall gave you a look, raising an eyebrow. “Shopping?”

You nodded innocently. “Mhm. You said it’s our day, right?”

He sighed, shaking his head. “Aight, fine. But if you think I ain’t keepin’ an eye on what the fuck you’re buyin’—”

You grinned, cutting him off. “Let’s go before you change your mind.”

At the Mall

Marshall should’ve known this was a bad idea.

Not because he didn’t want to spoil you—he did. Hell, he’d give you the whole damn world if he could. But damn, the way you were tossing clothes into the shopping bags like money wasn’t a real thing? Yeah, that was starting to fuck with his head.

“Yo,” he muttered, rubbing the back of his neck as he eyed the price tag on one of the bags. “You tryna make me go broke?”

You giggled, slipping your arm around his. “Marshall, you have millions.”

“And at this rate, I’ma have zero.” He sighed dramatically, watching as you picked up another outfit. “What even is this? That shit ain't even enough fabric to be called clothes.”

You held up the tiny lace lingerie set with a smirk. “Oh, this? It’s for later.”

Marshall’s jaw clenched, and he snatched it out of your hands, tossing it over his arm before grabbing your wrist and pulling you close. “You are wearin’ this for me, right?”

You batted your lashes. “Who else?”

His blue eyes darkened slightly before he exhaled sharply, shaking his head. “You know what? Fuck it. Get whatever the fuck you want. Just remember, you wear this little shit outside? We fightin’.”

You laughed, kissing his cheek. “Noted.”

By the time you were done, Marshall was carrying way too many bags, grumbling under his breath the whole time.

“Fuckin’ ridiculous,” he muttered as you both walked toward the exit. “Why you need this much shit?”

“It’s Valentine’s Day,” you reminded him, smiling. “You said you wanted to spoil me.”

“Yeah, but damn.” He shifted the bags in his arms. “Next time, I’m takin’ you to Target.”

Lunch Date

After dropping the bags off in the car, you and Marshall headed to a nice little restaurant nearby.

As soon as you both sat down, Marshall leaned back in his seat, stretching. “Aight, now this part I don’t mind. Food? I can get behind that shit.”

You smiled, flipping through the menu. “Oh, so you don’t mind spending money on food but clothes are a problem?”

“Damn right,” he muttered. “Food don’t make me question my fuckin’ bank account.”

You giggled, shaking your head before deciding on what you wanted. When the waitress came over, Marshall ordered for both of you, making sure you got exactly what you liked.

Once the food arrived, you could tell Marshall was in his happy place. His entire mood shifted the second he took that first bite.

“God damn,” he mumbled, closing his eyes. “This shit good as fuck.”

You laughed, watching him practically melt into his seat. “You act like you’ve never had a meal before.”

He shrugged, taking another bite. “Shit, I ain’t sayin’ that. Just sayin’, whoever made this needs a raise.”

Smirking, you picked up your fork and held a piece of food out to him. “Here, try this.”

Marshall raised an eyebrow. “You tryna feed me now?”

“Come on, don’t be shy,” you teased, wiggling the fork in front of him.

He rolled his eyes but leaned in, taking the bite. He chewed for a moment before nodding. “Aight, I see you. That shit good too.”

Smiling, you wiped a little sauce from the corner of his lip with your thumb. “You got something—”

Before you could pull your hand away, Marshall smirked and suddenly took your thumb into his mouth, sucking it clean.

Your eyes widened slightly, heat rushing to your face. “Marshall!”

He chuckled, letting go. “What? You wiped it off. I just finished the job.”

Shaking your head, you picked up a fry and held it up. “Here, your turn.”

Marshall smirked, but instead of taking it with his hands, he leaned forward and took it straight from your fingers with his mouth.

“You are so dramatic,” you muttered, laughing.

He chewed and winked. “You love that shit.”

After finishing your meals, you both sat back, completely full and content. Marshall took a sip of his drink before glancing at you.

“Aight, what’s next?”

You smirked. “Wouldn’t you like to know?”

He narrowed his eyes. “See, now I’m worried.”

You giggled, leaning over the table to kiss him. “Relax, babe. The day’s not over yet.”

Marshall sighed, running a hand down his face before mumbling, “I got a bad fuckin’ feelin’ ‘bout this.”

You just smiled. Oh, if only he knew.

The night had finally arrived, and Marshall had been quiet for most of the drive, the soft hum of the car's engine filling the spaces between you two. The city lights flickered outside as you both made your way toward your dinner destination, but you had something to share before it all went down.

"Hey," you said, breaking the silence and shifting slightly in your seat to grab the bag you had stashed beside you.

Marshall glanced over at you, brow furrowed. "What?"

You smirked, reaching into the bag and pulling out the small box with the watch you’d bought for him. "I got you something. For Valentine's Day."

He raised an eyebrow, looking over at you in surprise. "You didn’t need to get me shit," he grumbled, but his tone softened as his curiosity grew. "You know I ain't about all that gift shit."

You shrugged, holding the box out to him. "Yeah, well, I wanted to. So just take it."

Marshall hesitated for a moment before taking the box from your hand, his eyes lingering on you as he carefully opened it. Inside, a sleek, expensive watch glimmered under the interior lights of the car.

"Yo... what the fuck?" he muttered, his eyes going wide as he lifted the watch. "This... this shit’s expensive as hell, babe."

You just smiled. "You deserve it. You’ve been working your ass off."

Marshall laughed, shaking his head. "Damn. I don't even know what to say." He let out a low whistle, admiring the watch before slipping it on his wrist. "You're gonna make me feel guilty for not getting you something that costs this much."

You waved him off. "You already spoil me, Marshall. It’s not about the price."

Before he could respond, you reached into the bag again, pulling out more boxes. "And there's more."

He turned his head toward you, an eyebrow cocked in suspicion. "You serious? You get me more shit?"

You chuckled softly, handing it over. "You’ll see."

He opened it slowly, his expression changing from confusion to shock as he revealed the custom chain—his initials carved into the thick gold links, designed with care and made specifically for him. Then the expensive sneakers, which also blew his mind.

"Goddamn..." he whispered, clearly impressed. "This is... this is fuckin' next level."

You grinned. "I figured you’d like it."

"Like it? Babe, I fuckin’ love it." His voice softened, and his gaze turned to you, his usual tough demeanor melting away. "You didn’t have to do all this, though."

You shrugged, feeling a little bashful at the sincerity in his eyes. "I wanted to."

Marshall smiled, shaking his head. "You're something else, you know that? Thank you." He took a deep breath, looking down at the watch and chain once more. "I feel like a damn millionaire now."

You laughed. "You *are* a damn millionaire."

"Yeah, but this... this is a different kind of flex," he said, the grin on his face growing wider. "I’m not tryna show off, but damn, I look good."

You rolled your eyes but couldn’t help but smile. "You always look good."

He shot you a playful wink before pulling into the parking lot of the restaurant. "Alright, now it’s my turn to take care of you."

You glanced around at the fancy cars parked in front of the restaurant, feeling the anticipation building up. "Where are we going?"

Marshall parked the car, turning off the engine. "It’s a surprise."

You raised an eyebrow, but before you could say anything else, he was already getting out of the car and opening your door. "Come on, let’s go."

You took his hand as he led you toward the entrance of the restaurant, the warmth of the night air brushing against your skin. The moment you stepped inside, you were hit with the unmistakable scent of luxury—wood paneling, rich leather seats, and the soft clinking of silverware.

The hostess greeted you both, giving you a nod as she checked the reservation list. "Mr. Mathers, your table is ready."

Marshall smirked, glancing over at you. "I told you I got this."

As you followed her to your table, you couldn’t help but notice the view—this restaurant had a balcony seating area that overlooked the entire city. The lights below looked like a sea of stars, and the atmosphere was quiet, intimate.

The hostess pulled out the chair for you, and you sat down, still in awe of the beautiful setting. Marshall slid into the seat next to you, his eyes scanning the area as he looked satisfied with himself.

"Damn," you whispered, taking in the view. "You really went all out, huh?"

"Only for you," he said, his voice low and genuine. "I told you, I’m makin’ tonight special. You deserve it."

You reached across the table, taking his hand in yours. "I don’t need fancy stuff, Marshall. I just need you."

He squeezed your hand, his thumb running over your skin as he looked at you with a soft smile. "Yeah, well, I want to give you more than that. I want you to know you’re the best thing I got."

Your heart fluttered at his words, and you couldn’t stop the smile from spreading across your face. "You’re not so bad yourself, Slim."

He chuckled at the nickname, leaning back in his chair. "Guess I got a soft spot for you, huh?"

"Guess so," you teased, leaning forward as you eyed the menu. "So what are we ordering?"

Marshall scanned the options, but you could tell he was still lost in thought. He stared at you for a moment, his gaze lingering before he looked away. "I’ll let you pick. You know what you like."

You raised an eyebrow, grinning. "Are you serious? You’re not even gonna help?"

He leaned in, his voice lowering to something more playful. "Hell no. It’s your night. I’m just here to enjoy the view."

You couldn't resist. There was something so satisfying about pushing Marshall’s buttons, especially when he was already feeling the weight of the night’s lavish surprises. The waiter stood at your table, waiting patiently for your order. Marshall was leaning back in his chair, trying to look casual, but you could see the tension in his shoulders. You decided it was time to have some fun.

"Alright," you said, flipping through the menu one last time. "I’ll have the lobster bisque as a starter. And, uh, the Wagyu beef, medium-rare, with a side of truffle fries."

Marshall's eyes widened as he leaned forward, clearly about to say something.

"Also, throw in the foie gras. Gotta go all out, right?" You grinned, knowing full well he’d start to get worked up.

Marshall’s mouth hung open for a second before he snapped it shut, glancing at you with a mix of disbelief and amusement. "You gotta be fuckin' kiddin' me," he muttered under his breath, his eyes narrowing. "I’m tryna treat you right, and you’re gonna hit me with that shit?"

The waiter, trying his best to be polite, wrote down your order and nodded before walking off to place it in the kitchen. Marshall turned his attention back to you, looking like he was about to burst.

"You really gonna make me pay for all this?" he asked, an amused yet annoyed look crossing his face. "I mean, I get it, it’s Valentine’s Day, but fuck. What’s next, a bottle of 200-dollar champagne?"

You chuckled, leaning back in your chair, enjoying the show. "Maybe," you teased, trying to hold in your laughter. "Why not? You only live once, right?"

Marshall shook his head in mock disbelief, his hands running over his face as if he couldn’t believe the audacity. "You are somethin’ else, you know that?" His tone was half exasperated, half impressed. "I swear, you’re gonna bankrupt me before this night’s over."

"Yeah, well, I like to live dangerously," you said, still grinning. "You knew what you were getting into when you started dating me, Marshall. Don’t act all surprised."

Marshall let out a deep sigh and rolled his eyes. "Fuckin' crazy," he muttered under his breath, though his lips were still curling up at the edges. "You really are a pain in my ass."

"Yeah, but you love it," you teased, giving him a wink.

"Love it? Hell, I’m just tryna keep my bank account from catchin' fire." He paused, glancing at you sideways with a smirk. "But... I guess you do look good enough to justify it. Maybe."

You laughed, raising an eyebrow. "Maybe?"

"Alright, alright," he said, holding his hands up in mock surrender. "You look damn good. I’ll give you that. But don’t push it, alright?"

The waiter returned soon after with a basket of freshly baked bread and a bottle of sparkling water, which you immediately ignored, still grinning. "The bread looks good, but I’m holding out for the good stuff," you said, leaning forward, clearly relishing the moment.

Marshall grabbed a piece of bread, tearing into it with a sigh, clearly trying to calm himself down. "I swear, if you order another thousand-dollar meal, I’m gonna fucking lose it."

"You’ll be fine," you said nonchalantly, enjoying every second of his misery. "It’s not like you’re gonna go broke over this."

"Don’t jinx me, babe," he shot back, shoving a piece of bread in his mouth. "You’re making me second guess every damn decision I’ve made tonight."

You leaned back in your chair, taking a sip of the water. "Relax, Marshall. You’re not gonna die from a fancy dinner."

"Well, if I do, I’m blaming you," he said, taking another bite of bread. "I told you I didn’t want any of this shit. But here I am, gettin’ sucked into your ridiculousness."

You smiled smugly. "You love it. Don’t lie."

He threw his hands up in exasperation, but there was a small smile tugging at the corner of his lips. "Alright, fine. I love it. But damn, you’re gonna make me broke doing it."

"Hey, at least I’m worth it," you said, giving him a wink.

"Yeah, yeah," Marshall muttered, shaking his head as he reached for the wine list on the table. "You better be worth it, or else I’m putting my foot down."

You leaned over the table toward him, your smile widening. "You wouldn’t dare."

"Try me," he shot back with a smirk, raising an eyebrow. "You know I’ll do it."

As the conversation continued, the food started to arrive, each dish more expensive and extravagant than the last. The lobster bisque came out first, and it was rich, creamy, and perfect. Marshall hesitated for a second before taking a bite.

"Okay," he said begrudgingly. "This actually tastes pretty damn good."

"I know," you said, taking a spoonful yourself. "Told you."

The next dish, the Wagyu beef, arrived, perfectly seared and looking like it belonged in a five-star restaurant. You cut into it with ease, savoring the flavor. Marshall just shook his head, staring at the plate in disbelief.

"You gotta be fuckin’ kidding me," he muttered. "How the hell is this worth that much money?"

"Because it’s amazing," you replied with a grin. "It’s like the best steak you’ve ever had, but a hundred times better."

Marshall finally dug into his steak, pausing for a moment before looking up at you. "Alright, I’ll admit it. This is... fuckin’ delicious."

"Told you," you said smugly.

As the night went on, you both fed each other little bites of the various dishes, laughing and teasing each other along the way. You'd fork a piece of your steak and hold it out for him to eat, and he'd do the same with the truffle fries. You could see him start to relax, though he still had that playful edge to him.

After a while, Marshall leaned back in his chair, his arm casually resting on the back of yours. "You’re a handful, but damn if you don’t make this fun."

You rested your head against his shoulder, content. "And you love every second of it."

"Yeah, yeah. Don’t get cocky," he grumbled, though there was a glint of amusement in his eyes.

As the night wore on, the atmosphere at the restaurant was starting to feel a little different. The balcony where you were sitting had a great view of the city, but with that view came a lot of attention. You were halfway through your meal when you noticed the first pair of eyes lingering on your boyfriend. Marshall didn’t seem to notice at first, but as you looked around, it became obvious that people were staring, some of them even sneaking pictures and videos on their phones.

You sighed and glanced over at Marshall, who was still focused on his food, though you could tell something was starting to bug him. He could sense it too. His brow furrowed, and he shifted uncomfortably in his seat.

"Fucking hell," he muttered under his breath, his gaze darting to a couple sitting at a nearby table, their phone held up just a little too obviously in his direction. "Do these assholes have no shame?"

You tried to shrug it off, giving him a small smile to reassure him. "It’s fine, Marshall. Let them take their stupid pictures. We’re here to enjoy the night, right?"

But that didn't seem to calm him down. His jaw tightened as he leaned back in his chair, clearly irritated. "Yeah, I get it. But it’s like, can’t a guy just have a fucking dinner without being treated like a damn zoo animal?"

You could tell he was starting to get worked up, so you reached over and put a hand on his, squeezing it gently. "I know, but this is what comes with the territory, babe. You’re Eminem. People want a piece of you."

He shot you a look, his eyes narrowing with frustration. "I don’t give a shit about all that. I just wanna eat my fucking food in peace."

"Yeah, I get it," you said, trying to calm him down, "but they’re gonna do it anyway. Might as well not let it ruin the night."

Marshall leaned forward, shaking his head. "It’s just annoying, man. Every time we go out, it’s like I’m fuckin’ on display." He sighed, running a hand through his hair. "You’d think they’d give me a break, especially on a night like tonight."

"I’m fine with it," you said, leaning in close. "I’m used to it by now. It’s not a big deal. Let them stare. They’re not important."

Marshall shot a glance at you, his lips pressed into a thin line, clearly still frustrated. "I just don’t like it. Makes me feel like I’m some fucking animal in a cage." He turned back toward the table, but you could see the tension in his shoulders. "I want to be here with you, not with a bunch of fucking strangers watching me eat like I’m some kind of freak."

You couldn’t help but laugh softly at his over-the-top reaction, but you understood. Being in the public eye like he was, it was no surprise that sometimes he’d get sick of it. Still, you didn’t want it to ruin the vibe of the night.

"Okay, okay, I get it," you said, smiling as you reached for your glass of wine. "But how about this? Let’s just enjoy the meal. If they wanna stare, fine. But you and me, we’re gonna have a good time tonight. Just us."

Marshall looked at you for a moment, his eyes softening slightly. "Yeah, yeah. I guess you’re right. I’m just so fucking tired of it sometimes." He let out a frustrated sigh, rubbing his face with both hands.

"I know, babe," you said, squeezing his hand again. "But let’s not let them ruin our night, okay? We deserve this."

He gave you a small, reluctant smile, his mood lightening just a bit. "Yeah, I guess you're right. Fuck 'em."

You chuckled, trying to lighten the mood. "Exactly. Fuck 'em. They’re not important."

Just as you said that, a couple at the next table discreetly took another picture, trying to be sneaky about it. You caught them and shot them a pointed look, but the couple quickly turned their attention back to their own conversation. Marshall noticed it too, and his lips twitched in amusement.

"See? Told you," he muttered, rolling his eyes. "Fucking ridiculous."

"Don’t let them get to you," you said, smiling. "They’re just fans. They’ll get over it."

"Yeah, well, I hope they do before I fucking snap," he grumbled. But even though he was still irritated, you could tell his mood was lifting a little.

The waiter came back around to check on you, and Marshall put on a strained smile, though you could tell he was still agitated. "Yeah, we’re good," he said, though his voice lacked the usual enthusiasm. "Just, uh, you know, dealing with some bullshit over here."

The waiter smiled politely, unaware of the tension. "Of course, sir. Is there anything else I can get you?"

Marshall shook his head, his grip on his wine glass tightening. "Nah, we’re good for now. Thanks."

Once the waiter left, you turned to Marshall, trying to make him laugh. "You know, if you just smiled at them, they might stop."

Marshall shot you a side-eye, his lips curling in a sarcastic smirk. "You want me to smile at them? Like a fucking puppy?"

You burst out laughing. "Well, it might help."

"Yeah, well, fuck that," he grumbled. "I’m not here to entertain anyone. I’m here with you." He finally relaxed in his seat, his mood starting to shift as he took a deep breath. "Sorry, babe. I didn’t mean to be a dick. Just... sometimes I wish I could have a night out without all this shit."

"I get it, really," you said softly, reaching across the table to touch his hand. "But we’re here now. Just focus on me. I don’t care what they’re doing."

Marshall’s eyes softened as he looked at you, his earlier frustration fading. "I don’t know what I’d do without you."

Eminem leaned back in his chair, eyes sparkling mischievously as he glanced at you. You’d been enjoying the rest of your meal, laughing and joking around, but his demeanor had changed. You could tell something was coming.

"Alright, baby," he said with a sly grin, leaning toward you. "I’ve got one more surprise for you."

You raised an eyebrow, feeling the excitement bubble up. "Another one? What is it?"

He just shook his head, a little smirk playing on his lips. "Nope. You gotta trust me. Close your eyes."

You narrowed your eyes playfully at him, not quite believing him. "You’re not gonna make me do something weird, are you?"

He chuckled. "Nah, I wouldn’t do that. Just... close your eyes. Trust me."

Rolling your eyes but smiling, you obeyed, closing them and folding your arms on the table. Your heart started beating faster as the anticipation grew. "Alright, I’m trusting you," you said, your voice a little shaky with excitement.

"Good. Keep them closed."

You could hear the slight shuffle of movement, the sound of footsteps, and then a long silence. It was killing you not knowing what was happening. You felt a nervous laugh bubble up inside you. "Marshall, what the hell are you doing?"

But there was no response. Only the sound of people quietly whispering in the background. You felt a sudden shift in the air, a tension that you couldn’t quite place.

"Okay," Marshall's voice broke through, soft yet full of confidence. "Open them."

You hesitated for a second, unsure of what to expect. Slowly, you opened your eyes—and your breath hitched in your throat.

There he was, kneeling right in front of you. Marshall. Your Marshall. On one knee. And in his hand was the most beautiful ring you’d ever seen. Your heart immediately pounded in your chest, and your eyes stung with tears.

"Shit," you whispered, feeling the tears start to well up.

He laughed softly, the sound a mix of amusement and something deeper—something you couldn’t quite place yet.

"You know," he started, his voice growing serious, though there was still that familiar playful tone, "you’re the most annoying fucking bitch I’ve ever met."

You laughed through your tears, wiping your eyes quickly. "What?!"

"You are," he said with a smirk. "You drive me fucking crazy."

Your lips parted in shock, and you almost laughed, trying to push back the tears. "I—"

"But..." He paused for dramatic effect, his gaze never leaving yours. "You’re also the most smoking hot woman I’ve ever seen in my goddamn life. You’re beautiful as hell, and yeah, you’re an annoying bitch, but I don’t wanna spend another fucking day without you."

Your chest tightened as you fought back more tears. Marshall wasn’t exactly the type to spill his emotions, but when he did, it was always raw.

He took a deep breath, steadying himself as he continued. "You drain my fucking bank account, but I don’t care. I’d spend every fucking dime just to see that smile on your face." He paused, his hand shaking slightly as he held up the ring. "You’ve made my life better, and I’m ready to make you a fucking promise. I want to spend the rest of my life with you. I’m asking you to be mine... forever."

Your eyes were brimming with tears now, and you struggled to find your voice. "Marshall, I—"

The crowd around you was now murmuring, a few people filming the whole moment with their phones, but you didn’t even care. It felt like it was just you and him, in that moment, the world fading into the background.

"You’ve been my fucking rock through all the bullshit, and I’ve never loved anyone the way I love you," he continued, his voice growing a little more intense. "I’m a fucking mess, but you’ve helped me put myself back together, piece by piece. So, yeah, I’m a stupid asshole sometimes. But I’ll be the best fucking man I can be... for you."

A single tear slipped down your cheek, and you wiped it away quickly, trying to steady your breath. "You’re not a mess," you whispered. "You’re everything."

Marshall gave you that trademark smirk of his. "So, will you marry me, you crazy ass woman?"

You paused, your heart racing, your mind spinning. Everything around you was fading—just you and him. You looked down at the beautiful ring in his hand, and then back up at him.

"Yes," you said, barely able to get the words out. "Yes, yes, yes!"

The room erupted into cheers as Marshall slid the ring onto your finger. You couldn’t believe it. You didn’t know what to say, so you just threw your arms around him, pulling him in for a kiss. It was rough, filled with passion and love, and you could feel the relief and joy flooding through him.

"I fucking love you," he muttered against your lips. "Don’t ever forget that."

You smiled through your tears, your heart full. "I won’t. I love you too."

Once you and Marshall got back to your place, the whole day felt like it was still buzzing through the air. The car ride home had been quiet, but it was a comfortable quiet, one that said more than words could. Marshall's hand had been on your thigh the entire drive, and every now and then, he’d glance at you with that knowing look that made your heart skip a beat.

You knew he was excited, not just about the day, but about the life he was promising you. And hell, you were excited too. Everything had been building up to this moment—this moment where he was finally yours, and you were his.

When you walked through the door, you didn’t even bother with small talk. You wanted to keep the night going in the best way possible. "I need to change," you said, already pulling your coat off and walking toward the bedroom. "Don’t follow me," you added with a teasing glance, knowing he’d be on your heels in an instant.

But this time, he listened.

You closed the bedroom door behind you and slid the lingerie you’d picked out at the mall earlier that day from the shopping bag. It was a black lace set, the kind that was sexy as hell but still had that mysterious, classy edge. You smirked to yourself as you undressed and slipped into it, checking yourself in the mirror. It was tight in all the right places, hugging your curves and accentuating your figure. You weren’t even going to lie, you felt fucking amazing.

You could hear Marshall out in the living room, probably pacing back and forth, anxious to see you. The anticipation was almost suffocating, but in a good way.

When you finally opened the bedroom door, his eyes immediately locked on you. He was sitting on the couch, leaning back with his elbows propped up on the arms, but when he saw you in that lingerie, he froze. His mouth parted in shock for a second, and his eyes traveled over every inch of you like he couldn’t quite believe what he was seeing.

"Goddamn, baby," he muttered under his breath. His voice was low, hoarse, like he was struggling to form the words. "You are a fucking masterpiece."

You walked toward him slowly, swaying your hips, loving the way his gaze followed every movement. "You like it?" you asked, your voice dripping with confidence, a little playful but still needy.

"Like it?" Marshall snorted, his lips curling into a smirk as he leaned forward. "Babe, I don’t just like it, I fucking love it. I can’t wait to fucking tear it off of you."

You laughed, stepping closer to him until you were standing between his legs. "You don’t have to wait much longer, Marshall."

His eyes burned into yours, and you could feel the heat rising between the two of you. He grabbed your hips and pulled you closer, his breath heavy against your neck. "I swear to God, you’re gonna be the death of me," he grumbled, his hands moving up to grip your back, pulling you even closer until there was barely any space left between your bodies.

"Yeah?" you teased, your voice soft as you let your fingers graze through his hair. "What are you gonna do about it?"

"Shit," he cursed, his hands slipping down to grab your ass, pulling you flush against him. You could feel how hard he was already, and you bit your lip, your heart racing. "You’re fucking mine," he growled. "God, I can’t wait to make you mine forever. I’m gonna marry you, you know that?"

You gasped a little, feeling the weight of his words settle deep inside you. You’d known it was coming, but hearing him say it, so raw and real, hit you harder than you expected.

"You keep saying that," you said, trying to hide the emotion that was creeping up on you. "You keep telling me how much you want to marry me."

"Because I fucking do," Marshall said, his voice filled with sincerity as he looked you dead in the eyes. "You’re it for me. I don’t want anyone else. I want you. I want to wake up next to you every fucking day for the rest of my life."

You felt your heart swell, your breath catching in your throat. It was rare for Marshall to get this vulnerable, but when he did, it made everything feel so much more real.

"You mean everything to me, baby," he continued, his voice soft but intense, "and I’m not going anywhere. I want to marry you and fucking spoil you. I wanna do all the shit I never thought I’d do, just to see you smile. You deserve all of it."

Your chest tightened with emotion, and you couldn’t help but let out a shaky breath. "I love you," you whispered, your hands trembling slightly as you slid them down to his chest.

"I fucking love you too," he murmured back, his lips finding yours in a heated kiss. "And when I’m done with you tonight, you’re gonna know exactly how much."

Extra:

Marshall’s hands roamed over your body, every touch sending sparks through you as you kissed each other harder. His lips trailed down your neck, his breath hot against your skin. When he pulled away, he looked at you, eyes dark with desire.

“You know,” he murmured, voice thick, “we should have kids. Yeah, seriously. You’d look fucking amazing pregnant.” He smirked, his hands moving down to your waist. “I can already picture it. Your tits getting all full of milk, your body getting even more plump. Shit, you’d be even sexier as a mother.”

You couldn’t even respond, your mind too clouded by desire. His words only made your pulse race faster, and you could barely focus on anything other than how badly you wanted him. Your body was already overwhelmed, and you couldn’t do anything but let him continue, caught in the heat of the moment.

#eminem #eminem x reader #marshall mathers x reader #eminem imagine #marshall mathers #marshall mathers imagine #slim shady #fluff and smut #famous!reader #feminine reader

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