#x Black OC

[melaninadorned]

😋😋 yeeaahhh sometimes you gotta provoke to get "bit"

Where You Going?

Pairing: Toxic Husband!Terry Richmond x Plus Size Fem Black!OC

Wordcount: +3.8K

Warnings: MDNI (18+) mature content, such as cursing, teasing, heavily dialogue-centered, use of pet names (Daddy, Mama, baby girl, lil' mama, pretty girl, good boy, etc.), P in V, Dom!Terry, Toxic!Terry, alluding to spanking *if you squint*, rough sex

A/N¹: This is a single one-shot with no planned sequels.

A/N²: I'm open to critiques. I am a little 🤏🏽 sensitive about my writing. Please, don't be too harsh.🥺 Feel free to bring my attention to any typos. Divider by ME (theereina). Also, this work is not to be plagiarized or reposted (on any site other than here on Tumblr). I do NOT give consent for any form of republishing or rewriting.

Masterlist: 🔥🔥🔥

As my opened suitcase lay on the bed, I only thought of getting as much of my stuff packed before he came home. I had no other priorities besides leaving. It was 7:02, so I had less than 2 hours before he left work.

“Fuck! I can't find my ring,” I said rushing into the bathroom.

I was struggling to search for it in the chaos I had created. The entire house was a mess. I had singlehandedly destroyed every room in less than 4 hours. No room was left unturned, and I didn't care about how the house looked. This would become his problem after I left. Maybe, he would finally pay attention to something other than his job and friends.

I lifted all of the items on the bathroom counter. To my surprise, I still couldn't find it. I remembered taking it off and sitting it on the counter before doing my hair a few days ago. The prongs always found a way to get tangled in the coils of my 4c hair. I chose to take the ring off rather than deal with my hair constantly getting snagged. Since removing my ring was something I always did, I didn't notice that I didn't have it until this morning.

“You know what?! He'll find it. I don't care anymore,” I said, huffing as I leaned against the counter.

I looked into the mirror, taking in my appearance. This was something I hadn't done in weeks. I was frightened by my reflection in the mirror. My hair hadn't been done in weeks. I was still slicking back the same low bun from almost a month ago. There wasn't an eyelash left in my lash extensions. My eyes were sporting dark circles and sunken from exhaustion. My chin and forehead were covered in stress pimples. Had I really let this man's bullshit drain me of the energy to even take care of myself?

“Arghhh… What the fuck is happening to me?” I said, swiping everything thing off the counter onto the floor.

I stumbled backward and braced myself against the outside glass of the shower door. I was falling apart at the seams. There was no way in hell I would spend another moment crying. All I wanted was for my husband to notice me and say something.

I hadn't heard an “I love you” in weeks. We barely slept in the same bed because he was always working overtime. Even simple conversations were non-existent or interrupted by phone calls. I was tired of the same fucked up routine— wake up, work, gym, home, sleep. Terry was no longer even a part of my current life routine, and he, for damn sure, wasn't making me a part of his.

I walked out of the bathroom, feeling dizzy. I knew that meant my anxiety was about to start whooping my ass.

As I walked up to the bed, I pushed a pile of unwanted clothes out of my way. I practically threw myself on the bed. I lay back and began taking deep breaths. I needed to calm down.

After what I thought was a minute or so, I leaned up and stared at my suitcase. I was honestly so exhausted after today.

I looked down at the watch on my wrist. It read 7:34. Realizing I was running out of time, I grabbed the suitcase and zipped it quickly. I wanted to be gone well before he left work so there was no chance of us running into each other.

I stood up, holding the suitcase. I let it fall to the floor and extended the handle. I turned towards the bedroom door. All I had to do now was walk out the front door and leave.

I took a deep breath and opened the bedroom door. Walking out into the hallway, the house felt eerily quiet. Pulling the suitcase down the hall, I realized how cold it was inside the home. That meant it was even colder outside.

I left my suitcase to sit at the corner of the wall which led to the opening of the living room. I quickly turned on my heels and walked back towards the room. I practically sprinted through the open door. Walking back to the bed, I began to toss the clothes onto the floor in search of a small jacket or sweater. Once I found the top of my black velour tracksuit, I slipped it on and zipped it up.

Back on my mission, I exited the room. It was the same ordeal as before. I went back down the hall, grabbed my suitc—. Where's my suitcase? I stopped to stare at where my suitcase was supposed to be. I turned back to look down the hall. I walked into the living room and began to panic.

“Where you going?” said a male's voice. I knew that voice all too well— Terry.

I spun around to find him sitting in a recliner in the dark. I couldn't see anything but the outline of his frame. Even in this state, his energy was nerve-racking.

“Huh?” I asked, spotting my suitcase on the floor beside him.

“I mean, you walked in here and put your suitcase down like you were about to go somewhere. So, where you going?” he asked, standing from the recliner.

With that statement, I realized Terry had been here the whole time. There was no telling when he had gotten home.

“Baby girl, I asked you a question. Where you going?” he asked, crossing his arms.

From this angle, I still couldn't see him. The small amount of moonlight from the window only illuminated the bottom of his pants and shoes. I felt like I was talking to a shadow which was making this so much harder than it needed to be.

I refused to answer his question. I knew if I talked it would only lead to me stuttering like a fool.

I quickly walked across the living room and snatched the suitcase from the floor. I turned to make a beeline for the door.

“You don't think I noticed your spoiled ass pouting?” Terry asked, causing me to stop in my tracks.

“Well, you didn't act like you did!” I yelled as I turned to face him. Unbeknownst to me, Terry was now right behind me. Not a sound was made to alert me of his movements. I stood there in shock, startled by his presence.

“Why should I? You're a grown a— grown woman. You have no problem using your mouth any other time. Why didn't you this time, huh? You forgot how to communicate, love?” Terry asked, leaning down.

As much as I wanted to curse him out, I couldn't. Every emotion was raging through me all at once.

“Fuck you!” I yelled, fighting back tears of anger.

I was pissed at myself. I had planned out this whole scenario— how I would act and what I would say. It was as if everything went out the window when he was in my face.

“Simmer down, baby girl,” Terry said, kissing my forehead.

“Or, what?” I said, stomping my foot and pushing him away.

Terry stood there, glaring at me. I don't know whether he was pissed or impressed. Hell, he may have been both. I forced myself to hold eye contact, trying my hardest to stand my ground.

Terry stood to his full height and scoffed. He took a single deep breath and let his hand run over his mouth. He was clearly agitated, but I couldn't care less.

I pulled the suitcase closer to me, backing up towards the door. Terry reached out and grabbed the handle of the suitcase.

“Hey!” I yelled.

I reached out to snatch it back, but Terry was quicker. He pushed the suitcase behind his back.

“You want it, then come get it!” he said, walking towards the hallway.

“Fuck it. I don't need it,” I said, turning to walk towards the door.

I open the door halfway before Terry's hand reaches over me to slam it shut, bracing his hand against the door. I tried to pry the door open, but even with one hand, Terry was stronger than me. I yell out in frustration.

“Imma ask you one more time. Where you going?” he asked, looking down at me.

I walked back into the living room, pouting. This was clearly not going the way I planned.

“Leave me the hell alone!” I yelled, turning back to the door where Terry was standing. His body acting a blocker.

“Imma let you know this now if you walk out this door, I'm changing the damn locks. TONIGHT!” Terry shouted, pointing at the door behind him.

“You can't lock me out of my house!” I yelled, getting closer to him.

“Our house, and try me. I can, and I will!” Terry declared, crossing his arms. He widened his stance as he glared at me.

“I can't stand you!” I said, throwing my hands in the air.

“Oh, really. That's how you feel, baby girl?” he said, smirking.

“That's what the fuck I said, ain't it?” I rebutted.

“You know what? Fine, here. You wanna leave so bad. Go! Here's your chance. I'm not even gonna stop you!” he said, putting the suitcase in front of me and opening the door.

I placed my hand on the handle. I stood there unsure of what to do. Why the fuck was he just giving up like this? What the fuck was going on?

“All you gotta do is answer my question. Where you going?” he asked, stepping closer to me.

I looked back and forth between him and the floor. I didn't have an answer because I didn't plan on having to explain myself.

“I…. I… I don't know!” I yelled, stomping angrily.

“You don't even have a plan, do you?” Terry scoffed in disbelief.

“No…. So, what?” I asked desperately trying to save face.

“Of course, you don't! Give me the suitcase,” Terry said, rolling his eyes.

“No!” I yelled.

“Give it here! I ain't asking you. I'm telling you. Do you not understand the difference, baby girl?” he asked, holding his hand out.

I contemplated my next move. Truthfully, I was all out of options. I handed Terry the suitcase. He grabs the handle and lifts the suitcase in the air. He unzipped it and dumped all of my clothes on the floor. He slung the empty suitcase across the room.

I look down at the pile of clothes in disbelief. My eyes dart back up to Terry's. This man was insane.

Terry used his foot to slam the door shut. Without turning around, he reached behind him and locked the front door.

“Don't look at me. Go in the room. We need to talk before we go to bed,” he said, flexing his hands. He stood in front of me rolling his shoulders.

“We can talk right here!” I blurted. I knew that if I walked back into our bedroom, I was in for a “treat”.

“Nah, we not doing that kinda talkin'. Let's go!” he barked.

I looked at him, fighting through my thoughts. I stood in place and crossed my arms.

“Ughh!” Terry grunted and picked me up.

“No! Put me down!” I yelled, pushing at Terry's back.

He carried me out of the living room and down the hallway. Walking into the bedroom, he placed me in front of the foot of the bed.

“You got one minute to strip, or I'm ripping it off of you myself!” Terry said, standing in front of me.

“And if I don't?” I mumbled under my breath.

“You keep acting like you really got options here. I'm being polite by letting you think you do. Don't play with me, baby girl. Strip!” Terry said.

“Why do you always do this?” I asked, pouting even harder. I threw my head back in defeat.

“Do what?” Terry asked, licking his lips. His eyebrows knitted together as he waited for an answer.

“This! You always… just… I don't know. This! I can never just leave!” I shouted. I didn't know what to say.

“Take a second to think about what you just said. You do this same thing over and over again. Yet, every time you do I stop you. If I am always able to stop you, did you ever wanna leave? Love, maybe I know my wife better than she does. Maybe, I'm used to your bullshit and tantrums, baby girl,” Terry said through gritted teeth.

“I hate you,” I sulked, feeling stupid. He had me all figured out. This was pissing me off.

“You what?” Terry challenged, getting closer.

“You heard me. I fucking hate you!” I yelled in Terry's face.

“Hahaha, imma make you eat those words. I hope you know that. Tuh! You so funny, baby girl,” Terry laughed, leaning so that his forehead rested on mine. “Now, strip! Don't think I forgot. Since you wanna play games, you got 30 seconds this time,” he lulled as he stood back and crossed his arms.

I begin to strip as slowly as possible. I unzipped my jacket at a turtle’s pace and pulled the arms of my jacket off one at a time. I could see this was pissing Terry off. His face was telling it all as he clenched and unclenched his jaw.

Without warning, Terry grabbed me and pushed me on the bed. Clothes be damned!

20 minutes later

I had taken my punishment of 15 spankings with pride. Honestly, that was nothing compared to what he was doing right now.

“You gone clean this shit up, right?” Terry said, pounding my pussy in.

I could feel his dick bottoming out and kissing my cervix with ease. I knew he was going to wear my ass out, but I didn't expect this. He hadn't let up since we started. He went from tearing my ass up to stuffing me with dick.

“Yes, Daddy!” I screamed out.

Every inch of his dick was being swallowed by my pussy. He didn't care that I was fighting for my life. He was too busy watching himself slide in and out of me— egotistical green-eyed bastard.

Terry grabbed the back of my legs and pushed them into my chest. My knees were practically hitting the mattress. I was feeling an intense burn in my abdomen and thick thighs from this man folding me in half.

“Baby girl just wanted some dick, huh?” he asked as his hips snapped against my already sore ass.

“Yes, I'm sorry!” I moaned out into the air.

I glance up at Terry to find him smirking at me. Terry's arms wrapped around my thighs, pulling me closer.

“Nah… You hate me. Remember?” he asked as a devilish grin spread across his face.

He flattened his body on top of me and let his full weight fall on me, pressing me into the mattress. I didn't know what this position was, but I knew it was about to fuck me up.

As if his dick was magic, this position made me feel like he was deeper than before. How? His dick couldn't grow, could it?

He rested his forehead on mine and looked into my eyes.

“Tell me you hate me, now! Come on! Go ahead! I wanna hear it!” Terry said, leaning in and kissing me softly.

Terry slowed his strokes down, punishing me. Unfortunately, I couldn't speak or think. I didn't know what he expected from me.

“Daddy, I can't!” I mewled through gritted teeth. Hot tears flowed freely down the sides of my face.

“Nah. Stop telling me what you can't do! Tell me you hate me again. I wanna hear it!” Terry said, sliding his hand around the front of my neck.

Terry applied a small amount of pressure to the front of my throat, causing me to whimper from the pressure. I was beginning to squirm under him. I couldn't focus on anything but my half-assed breathing.

“Don’t worry, love. I'm about to make you hate me,” he said, kissing me again.

He grabbed a hold of the back of my neck and pulled me onto his lap. Lifting me slightly, he reached his hand between us to enter me again. I let out a small and desperate whimper. I didn't know how much more of this I could take. (position)

“You givin’ up on me? Baby girl… Look at me. Stay focused on me,” he said, thrusting upward.

Sadly, I was too fucked out to fuck back. It was as if all of the power and energy he had left was being used against me right now. His hands gripped the underside of my ass tightly. Using this as leverage, he would lift me a little and let me drop down into his thrusts.

I promise you from this day forward I will never tell this man I hate him again. The sound coming from our skin slapping together was deafening and thunderous. I couldn't believe the amount of energy this man still had. My pussy was gonna love hate me later.

“Daddy wants your apology to be as loud as your disrespect! Let me hear it!” he shouted, pulling my hair so that my face was pointed at the ceiling.

It was clear to me that this was purely punishment for me and amusement for him.

“You wanna cum, baby girl?” Terry asked, kissing all over my face.

“Yes, Daddy!” I groaned, falling into him.

“Then, I better hear my goddamn apology! Come on! You better not cum before I get it either!” Terry said, licking the side of my neck.

I honestly could have cum from that alone. I moaned out in a whimper. His hands released from my body, but I knew better than to think he was done. He grabbed my waist and flipped me over. Using one hand, he pulled me back onto him and into a kneeling position. His chest now rested against my back.

“Don't move,” he whispered in my ear, kissing my shoulders and neck.

Entering me again with ease, he wrapped one hand around my throat while holding my body taut to his. In this position, I could feel every breath he took.

“Now, what did I say? You can't cum until you apologize, right?” he taunted.

His thrusts became slow and intentional. It was evident that Terry had a point to make, and he was going to drive it home whether I could handle it or not.

As if he could hear my thoughts, his other hand found my clit. He began rubbing and stroking along the underside of it. I felt like I was physically melting.

Before he could say another word, I began to speak. “I'm sorry, Daddy. I don't… ahh… fuck… I don't hate you. Please!” I screamed into the air.

I was being fucked into submission clearly because instead of letting up, he went harder. His fingers began to rub my clit even faster, his other hand tightened around my throat, and his stroke became more vicious. I was falling and fast. My ears were ringing and listening was becoming impossible.

“Nah… Say… that… shit… louder. Come on!” he said, enunciating with every thrust.

I gasped and drew in a deep breath, causing me to cough.

I could finally feel the beginning signs of his orgasm, which meant relief was near. However, I knew Terry could hold off as long as he needed or wanted to.

“Please, Daddy! I’m sorry. I’ll never… ahh.. I’ll never say it again. Please, just let me cum!” I yelled even louder than the first time.

I was struggling to catch my breath at this point. I was so close. I could feel the muscles of my pussy tightening around Terry’s dick like a boa constrictor, and the pressure building up in my abdomen had reached its peak.

Pulling me back into a kiss, Terry spoke low and directly into my ear. “Cum! Now! You… got… this,” he said in between kisses.

With a potency laced with pleasure, I released the biggest flood I ever had. My legs began to shake, and my body fell forward. Terry instantly tightened his hold on me, forcing me to stay up. I couldn't feel my legs. I wanted nothing more than to sleep, preferably under him.

“Oh, baby. We’re almost done. Let Daddy finish,” Terry rumbled into my ear.

It wasn't like I had a choice anyway. He clearly wasn't stopping. He let go of my body, letting me fall forward with his dick still inside me. Of course, he would finish like this. His favorite position is doggy style. Placing one hand on my upper back, his hips dipped with every thrust. Miraculously, I felt the need to cum again. I wasn't even going to ask for permission with this one. Hell, I couldn't.

“That’s right, baby. Now, tell Daddy what we learned?” Terry demanded.

I pressed my face into the mattress because how in the hell was he expecting me to speak? Pulling my head up by my hair and undoing the last remnants of what was supposed to be a bun, he positioned me on all fours.

“Talk! I need to know that this ain't gone ever happen again. Because in this house, we respect Daddy, right?” he said, slowing his strokes again.

‘Ahhh, fuck… Yes, we… Daddy respect!” I yelled drunkenly.

“Awww, listen to my baby. You so dick dumb, right now. Daddy’s dick fuckin’ you up, huh?” he asked, pounding into me slowly.

All I could do was respond with a low yes and moan, causing Terry to let out a ragged laugh.

“Mmmm… cumming, now!” I yelled.

“Daddy is too. Don’t move!” he said, gripping my hip and pushing me deeper into the mattress.

Terry’s climax crashed with mine. His cum and mine flooded my pussy. The intense combination of fluids forced Terry out of me. I fell forward on the bed, immediately laying flat on my stomach. My body was exhausted and sore. I crashed into recovery mode as my eyes immediately shut. I was practically half-asleep as soon as my body hit the bed.

Terry laughed behind me. “And what did we learn?” Terry asked, stepping backward off the bed.

“Mmm… We don't disrespect, Daddy. I'm sorry. I love you,” I mumbled.

“That’s what the fuck I thought,” Terry said, smacking my ass.

The lesson of today is that I’m not going any-fuckin’-where.😉

Taglist: @persethegawd @pocketsizedpanther @nahimjustfeelingit-writes @kimuzostar @episodes-ff @megamindsecretlair @mymindisneverhere @writingsbytee @brattyfics @avoidthings @keyaho @prettyisasprettydoes1306 @onherereading @nayaesworld @phuckyoreblogs @venusincleo @1darknymph @insertcatchynamerighthere @honeytoffee @mitruscity @ladypegusus-blog @lettersofgold @jimmybutlrr @5headsupremacist @blowmymbackout @babybratzmaraj @insidefeelingofanadult @kirayuki22 @ariiijestertheklown @nayaxwrites @miyuhpapayuh @gg-trini @vivaalenaa @slutsareteacherstoo @blackerthings @androgynousgaz @becauseimswagman1 @gwenda-fav @poektiou624 @sageispunk @charismablu @4ftwonder @4pfsukuna @pinkpantheris @talkswithdesi @helloncrocs @dxddykenn @simplyzeeka @theglamclosetsl @melaninadorned

[nobitchs-world]

When y/n gets too annoying to the point you want to stop reading

[mrsfancyferrari]

Wild Imagination

Summary: You were just an interviewer for the Met Gala when you were able to meet the Sir Lewis Hamilton

Song: Brent Faiyaz - ALL MINE

Part 2

Author’s note: Longest story I've ever written! Comment if you want a part 2! Please like, reblog and share this! 🫶

Word count: 20.8k

As the evening sun dipped below the horizon, casting a golden hue over the bustling streets of New York City, you found yourself standing outside the iconic Metropolitan Museum of Art, the venue for the illustrious Met Gala.

The air was thick with anticipation, and the excitement was palpable as celebrities and fashion icons prepared to make their grand entrances. As an interviewer for the event, you was tasked with capturing the essence of the night, and your own attire was a reflection of the glamour surrounding you.

You glanced down at your dress, a stunning creation that seemed to shimmer under the city lights. The fabric was a deep midnight blue, reminiscent of a starry sky, adorned with intricate silver embroidery that traced delicate constellations across the bodice.

The gown flowed elegantly to the floor, with a subtle train that added an air of sophistication. As you adjusted the delicate straps, you felt a sense of confidence wash over yourself.

“Wow, you look incredible!” exclaimed your colleague, Sarah, as she approached you with a camera in hand. “That dress is absolutely perfect for tonight!”

“Thank you!” you replied, a smile spreading across your face. “I wanted something that would stand out but still feel elegant. The theme this year is ‘In America: A Lexicon of Fashion,’ so I thought a classic silhouette with a modern twist would be fitting.”

Sarah nodded in agreement, her eyes sparkling with enthusiasm. “You definitely nailed it. I can’t wait to see the reactions when you interview the stars. They’re going to love your look!”

As we made our way toward the entrance, the sound of flashing cameras and excited chatter filled the air. The atmosphere was electric, and you could feel the adrenaline coursing through your veins.

We approached the red carpet, where a line of glamorous attendees awaited their moment in the spotlight.

“Remember to ask them about their outfits!” Sarah reminded me, adjusting her camera settings. “Fashion is the heart of this event.”

“Absolutely,” you replied, your mind racing with questions. “I want to know what inspired their looks and how they interpret the theme.”

You had just finished getting your makeup touched up, the final brush strokes adding a touch of glamour before you stepped into the whirlwind of the Met Gala again.

Surprisingly, you felt a sense of calm wash over you. The thought of interviewing celebrities didn’t make your heart race; instead, you found comfort in picturing them as ordinary individuals with extraordinary talents.

“Just remember to smile and engage with the celebrities,” your manager, David, instructed, his tone a mix of seriousness and playful urgency. “I’m counting on you to shine tonight. A stellar performance could mean a nice little bonus for me.”

“Sure thing, David,” you replied, glancing at your phone, half-listening as you mentally prepared for the night ahead.

“Good! Now go out there and do whatever it takes to go viral—even if it means flirting a little,” he added with a wink before striding out of the room, leaving you to gather your thoughts.

As you stepped into the bustling atmosphere of the gala, the lights sparkled like stars, and the air buzzed with excitement. You took a deep breath, reminding yourself that these celebrities were just people, albeit with a flair for the dramatic.

You spotted a familiar face in the crowd—Naomi Elaine Campbell.

Summoning your courage, you approached her. “Hi Mrs. Campbell! I’m here with Buzz Feed. Can I grab a quick chat with you?”

The model turned, her smile brightening the room. “Of course! I love your work. What do you want to know?”

You felt a rush of adrenaline as you began the interview, asking about their latest project and what inspired them. The conversation flowed effortlessly, and you found yourself genuinely enjoying the exchange.

“By the way,” you said, leaning in slightly, “I’ve heard you’re quite the dancer. Any chance we’ll see you on the dance floor tonight?”

She laughed, a warm, infectious sound. “Only if you join me! I could use a partner who knows how to keep up.”

You grinned, feeling the energy of the moment. “Challenge accepted! But only if you promise to show me some of your moves.”

As the night continued, you mingled with more stars, each interaction building your confidence. You remembered David’s advice and made sure to smile, engage, and even throw in a playful flirt here and there.

“Hey, you’re really good at this!” a young reporter remarked as you both took a break from the chaos. “You’ve had to be doing for years now, you're such a professional!"

You smiled shyly at the reporter, "Just because I sound professional doesn't mean I'm not nervous to meet someone big like Naomi Campbell,"

"You were?" the reporter looked surprised.

"Of course I was, she's one of my biggest idols yet I kept my cool and spoke calmly, my mom always used to say 'treat celebrities like normal people with extraordinary abilities,"

David's voice crackled in your earpiece, urgent yet calm. "Y/N, you need to come back. More people are arriving."

You smiled at the young reporter, wrapping up your conversation. "Thanks for the chat! I hope to see you around soon." She waved goodbye as you turned to head back to your post.

As you mingled with other celebrities, the conversations felt surface-level, lacking the depth you craved. Perhaps it was because you didn’t know much about them, or maybe the atmosphere was just too frenetic.

Then, out of the crowd, you spotted him—Sir Lewis Hamilton, looking dapper in a suit tailored just for him. Your heart raced; you knew you had to find a way to speak with him.

To your surprise, after a few brief exchanges with others, he locked eyes with you. It was as if the world around you faded, and he began walking in your direction.

Panic bubbled up inside you, but you took a deep breath, willing yourself to stay composed.

"Well, if it isn't Sir Lewis Hamilton," you said, trying to keep your voice steady and a hint flirty. "We were all looking forward to your arrival this evening, and I must say, you look incredibly handsome in that suit."

Lewis flashed a charming grin, his eyes sparkling with warmth. "Thank you, Mrs. Y/N L/N. I'm delighted to finally meet you tonight. You look absolutely ravishing, as always."

You were taken aback. He knew your name?

The thought sent a thrill through you. "I’m flattered, really. I didn’t expect to be recognized by someone as renowned as you."

He chuckled softly, leaning in slightly. "I’ve heard a lot about you. Your work is impressive, and I admire your passion."

Your cheeks flushed at the compliment. "That means a lot coming from you. I’ve followed your career for years. Your dedication to racing and your advocacy off the track is truly inspiring."

Lewis nodded, his expression sincere. "Thank you. It’s important to me to use my platform for good. Speaking of which, I’d love to hear your thoughts on some of the initiatives you’re involved in."

You felt a rush of excitement. This was the deep conversation you had been longing for.

"Well, I’m currently working on a project for sustainability in sports. It’s a challenge, but I believe we can make a significant impact."

He listened intently, his interest evident. "It’s all about how we can reduce our carbon footprint and promote eco-friendly practices within the industry."

Lewis listened intently, his interest evident. "That’s fantastic! Sustainability is such a crucial topic, especially in motorsport. I’ve been trying to advocate for greener technologies in racing yourself. It’s a challenge, but it’s necessary."

You nodded, feeling a connection forming. "Exactly! It’s about finding innovative solutions and inspiring others to join the movement. I believe that if we can get more athletes on board, we can make a real difference."

He smiled, his enthusiasm infectious. "I’d love to collaborate on something. Maybe we could organize an event or a campaign together? It would be amazing to combine our efforts."

Your heart raced at the thought. "That would be incredible! I’d be honored to work with you. We could reach so many people and raise awareness."

As you spoke, the noise of the event faded into the background, and it felt like it was just the two of you in that moment. Lewis leaned in closer, his voice dropping to a more intimate tone.

"You know, I’ve always believed that passion is contagious. When you’re passionate about something, it inspires others to feel the same way."

You couldn’t help but smile, feeling a warmth spread through you. "I completely agree. It’s what drives me every day. And I can see that same passion in you, not just for racing but for making a difference."

He nodded, his gaze unwavering. "It’s what keeps me motivated, especially in a sport that can sometimes feel so disconnected from the real world. We have a responsibility to use our influence wisely."

Just then, David’s voice crackled in your earpiece again, pulling you back to reality. "Y/N, are you there? We need you back at the main stage."

You sighed, knowing you had to leave this captivating conversation. "I’m sorry, but it looks like I have to go. Duty calls."

Lewis's face fell slightly, a flicker of disappointment evident in his eyes. "I get it. But let’s make sure this isn’t our last conversation. I’d love to pick up where we left off."

He reached for your hand, gently brushing his knuckles against yours. "I hope so," you replied, a mix of hope and regret in your voice.

As you turned to leave, the bustling sounds of the event faded into the background, but the warmth of Lewis's touch lingered. You could feel the weight of unspoken words hanging in the air, and it made your heart race.

"Y/N!" David's voice broke through your thoughts again, more insistent this time. "We really need you here!"

You took a deep breath, glancing back at Lewis, who was watching you with an intensity that made your pulse quicken. "I’ll be back," you promised, your voice barely above a whisper.

It was as if the cosmos conspired against you that night, weaving a tapestry of misfortune that seemed almost deliberate.

The moment you finally stepped onto the red carpet, the atmosphere was charged with excitement, but the spotlight had already shifted, leaving you in its wake.

Lewis had already slipped away, retreating to the comfort of his home, far from the chaos of the event.

"I can't believe I was too late to talk to him again," you muttered to yourself, frustration bubbling beneath the surface like a pot about to boil over.

After all, who would wait around for an interviewer when the allure of a quiet evening beckoned?

You took a deep breath, trying to shake off the disappointment that clung to you like a shadow, as you mingled with the remaining stars who lingered for the after-party, their laughter echoing in the air like a bittersweet melody.

The atmosphere was electric, a vibrant tapestry woven from laughter, the clinking of glasses, and the soft hum of conversation.

You found yourself chatting with a dazzling array of celebrities, each one more captivating than the last, their stories and charisma drawing you in like moths to a flame.

As the night wore on, the excitement began to wane, and exhaustion settled in like a heavy fog.

The vibrant conversations around you started to blur, and you exchanged goodbyes with your team, their faces a mix of smiles and understanding.

Yet, your mind still wandered back to thoughts of Lewis, the insights you could have gleaned more from him.

"I really wanted to talk to him more," you sighed, glancing back at the vibrant scene one last time, the lights twinkling like stars in a night sky.

"Maybe next year," one of your colleagues reassured you, clapping you on the shoulder.

With a heavy heart, you stepped out into the cool night air, the thrill of the evening overshadowed by the lingering sense of what could have been. . . .

▄▀▄▀▄▀▄▀▄▀▄▀▄▀▄▀▄▀▄▀▄▀▄▀▄▀▄▀▄▀▄▀▄▀▄▀▄▀▄▀▄▀▄▀

▄▀▄▀▄▀▄▀▄▀▄▀▄▀▄▀▄▀▄▀▄▀▄▀▄▀▄▀▄▀▄▀▄▀▄▀▄▀▄▀▄▀▄▀

Following the Met Gala, your encounter with Lewis Hamilton captured the public's attention, ultimately granting David the boost he had been hoping for—a raise, thanks to the newfound recognition his employee brought to the team.

The buzz surrounding your interaction was undeniable, and it seemed to elevate everyone's profile in the process.

Your thoughts, however, remained fixated on Lewis.

Intrigued by his world, you delved into the realm of Formula 1, immersing yourself in the races whenever your work schedule permitted.

The thrill of the sport captivated you, and you found yourself eagerly anticipating each event, drawn in by the excitement and the sheer talent on display.

The desire to attend a Grand Prix and witness Lewis in action grew stronger, yet your job constraints stood in the way.

The longing to experience the adrenaline of the race and cheer for him from the stands was palpable, but the demands of your career made it a distant dream, leaving you to navigate the balance between work and your newfound passion.

You just hoped that you would be able to see him soon or at next year's Met Gala and speak to him if he hasn't forgotten about you already. . . .

The year had dragged on, each day blending into the next, and here you were, still in the same position at work.

But this time, there was a twist: you had been chosen to attend the Met Gala again.

Your company had gone all out, pouring resources into crafting the perfect dress, all in hopes that you might cross paths with Lewis Hamilton again.

They were determined to make a lasting impression, especially after the unexpected chemistry that had sparked between you two the previous year. Yet, despite the excitement surrounding the event, you couldn’t shake the feeling of caution.

You reminded yourself not to get your hopes too high.

As the night of the gala approached, you found yourself standing in front of the mirror, adjusting the intricate details of your gown. The fabric shimmered under the light, and you couldn’t help but feel a mix of anticipation and anxiety.

“What if I see him?” you whispered to yourself, imagining the possibility of a second chance.

But then, a wave of doubt washed over you. “What if he doesn’t remember me?” you sighed, trying to quell the fluttering in your stomach.

You had replayed the moments from last year in your mind countless times, but the reality of the situation felt daunting.

Finally, the night arrived, and the atmosphere buzzed with excitement. As you navigated through the crowd, your heart raced at the thought of encountering Lewis again.

As you saunter through the bustling atmosphere of the Met Gala, your senses are alive with the vibrancy of creativity, fashion, and the hum of whispered conversations.

With a strategic focus on reconnecting with familiar faces and unearthing new celebrities, you interview designers, actors, and musicians, soaking in the anecdotes that dance on the tips of their tongues.

The glittering spectacle before you, adorned with high fashion and mesmerizing artworks, seamlessly blends creativity with prestige, encapsulating the very essence of the gala.

After immersing yourself in discussion after discussion, you finally take a moment to step back from the whirlwind of interviews. The moonlight spills through the glassy high-rise windows, casting a magical glow throughout the venue, offering you a fleeting glimpse of solace amidst the chaos.

Yet, just as the weight of the evening begins to settle on your shoulders, a voice, smooth and teasing, pierces the ambient noise.

"Well hello, Mrs. L/N. I hope you didn't forget about me," the voice calls out playfully from behind you, sending a shiver of electricity down your spine.

You pivot on your heels, your heart racing, to find Lewis Hamilton leaning against the elegant marble pillar just a few feet away, a devilish smirk tugging at the corners of his lips.

His tailored suit catches your eye immediately—a striking ensemble that marries classic style with modern flair. The deep emerald green fabric clings just perfectly to his athletic frame, the subtle sheen giving way to intricate patterns of silver-thread embroidery that weave through the fabric like a secret, shimmering constellation.

His shirt, unbuttoned at the collar, reveals just a hint of a crisp white undershirt, and the tailored trousers elongate his legs, finishing just above a pair of polished black brogues that gleam under the soft lighting.

"Of course not! How could I?" you respond, a sheepish smile tugging at your lips as you fully face him, memories of last year’s awkward encounter rushing back to the forefront of your mind.

It slips from your tongue before you can filter it: "I feel like I should apologize for what happened last year."

The lightness in the air shifts, as the shared past hangs momentarily between you like an unspoken agreement, a reminder of the unfulfilled promise of time spent together amidst the glamour.

Lewis, perceptive as ever, leans slightly closer, the teasing spark in his eyes twinkling mischievously.

"You should," he replies lightly, a playful lilt in his voice that somehow manages to mask the slight edge of disappointment beneath.

"I dutifully waited for you for hours until my manager dragged me out," he teases, the warmth of his laughter wrapping around you like a familiar embrace.

It's almost charming how he knows exactly the right buttons to push to evoke a blend of guilt and flattery within you, and as you meet his gaze, you feel partially exposed yet undeniably captivated by his charm.

The acknowledgment of that missed connection lingers in the air, juxtaposed against the festive backdrop of the gala, only intensifying the electric undercurrent of this reunion.

Desiring to ease the slight weight of remorse that his words brought upon you, you ponder for a moment, your mind racing to find a way to make it up to him.

"Is there a way to repay you?" you ask, a trace of shyness coloring your voice.

The question hangs between you, a delicate bridge inviting the possibility of rekindling what could have been, or perhaps igniting something entirely new.

Lewis glances at you, his smile broadening as if your inquiry brings a glimmer of hope, leaving you momentarily suspended in anticipation of his response.

"Maybe you can come support me in my home race?" he suggests, a hopeful grin lighting up his face, his eyes sparkling with enthusiasm as they glint like the glimmer of city lights outside.

Imagining the energy of the crowd and the thrill of the race makes your heart race as well, a promise of shared excitement glowing in the air between you.

The notion dances between you like an apparition, stirring both delight and trepidation as you weigh the spontaneity of joining him at such an exhilarating event.

In that moment, everything outside your immediate exchange blurs away, fading into a mere backdrop to this connection that seems to widen with every heartbeat, every shared glance.

Encouraged by the mutual thread of interest, you take a breath, aiming to find the right words to capture the mix of excitement and nerves that flutter within you.

"I'd love to do that, Lewis," you reply earnestly, letting the natural enthusiasm in your voice spill forth.

"Good, because I really wasn't ready to get rejected in front of national television," Lewis says with a playful chuckle, his eyes sparkling with amusement.

You almost forget that you are sitting surrounded by cameras and a live audience, as the warmth of his personality envelops you. The realization washes over you, pulling you back to the present—a stark reminder of the interview’s stakes.

Despite the gravity of the situation, the lightness that Lewis brings shifts the atmosphere entirely.

His ability to make you feel at ease is admirable, reminiscent of a good friend rather than a celebrity caught in the relentless spotlight of fame.

At that moment, you feel a twinge of guilt for your initial intentions, which were focused solely on extracting professional insights for your audience.

However, it’s hard to resist the magnetic pull of this engaging banter—dare you say, it’s not only entertaining but also enlightening in its own right.

"Oh my gosh, I forgot this was being recorded," you exclaim, shock radiating across your face as you instinctively cover your mouth, stifling a laugh.

You glanced nervously at the cameras, suddenly aware of the audience who is watching you in real time, likely captivated by the unexpected turn the interview has taken.

Lewis's laughter rings out, melodic and infectious, easing the tension that had begun to creep back into the room. You can’t help but join in, the rhythmic cadence of his joy sweeping you back into the moment.

In the midst of the laughter, you suddenly remember your earpiece, which had fallen silent during your break from obligations.

When you pop it back in, the first sound you hear is David's irate voice cutting through your bubble of enjoyment, chiding you for being unprofessional.

You yank it out again, a frown furrowing your brow as frustration surges within.

Who needs a producer barking orders when you're in the middle of something special?

Perhaps today needs to be more about being present in the moment rather than sticking rigidly to a script. The mention of professionalism seems a distant concern, a faint echo overshadowed by the authentic experiences happening right in front of you.

You’re ready to take ownership of your interview and allow it to unfold in a way that feels honest and true, something organic that resonates with both you and the audience watching from their living rooms.

The lights in the lavish venue dimmed slightly, casting a warm glow over the crowd as the murmurs faded into anticipation. The announcement echoed through the hall, calling all the celebrities to the main hall for a special presentation.

As the excitement buzzed around you, you felt a familiar pang of disappointment wash over you at the thought of leaving the company of Lewis.

His cocoa brown eyes met yours, and for a heartbeat, time seemed to stand still. "I guess they really know how to kill a moment, huh?" Lewis said with a cheeky grin, his fingers brushing against yours.

You could feel a warmth creeping up your cheeks, and you downplayed your shyness with a small laugh.

“I was really enjoying just… this," you admitted, gesturing between the two of you. "Don’t you think they could have waited a bit longer?”

Lewis chuckled softly, his demeanor effortlessly charming. "If only they listened to us, right?" He paused, a glint of mischief dancing in his eyes.

Then, with great care, he took your hand and pressed his lips gently against your knuckles, reminiscent of last year’s memorable encounter.

The sweet gesture made your heart flutter, igniting a mix of shyness and excitement that left you breathless.

“Lewis…” you started, your voice barely above a whisper, feeling butterflies taking flight in your stomach.

With a teasing wink, he pulled away slightly and reached into his pocket. “Before they whisk me away, I have something for you.”

He produced a small piece of paper and leaned closer, his breath warm against your ear. “It has my phone number on it. I’ll need to send you the tickets for the race.”

Your heart raced. “Tickets for the race? Wait, you were actually serious?”

“Of course. I wouldn’t want you to miss it. But… I might need a bit of company if you’re up for it,” he said, an inviting smile spreading across his face.

You felt an elated rush, realizing just how much this meant. “Lewis, I would love that. I’ve been wanting to see you at the races.”

“Good. Then it’s a date,” he said playfully, his tone shifting back to the more teasing side of him.

He leaned in again, his voice lowering conspiratorially. “Just don’t tell anybody else, alright? I have a reputation to maintain.”

You laughed, your heart swelling with affection. “Your secret’s safe with me! Just promise you won’t forget to text me.”

“I could never forget someone like you,” he replied, his eyes locking onto yours with sincere intensity.

You felt like you might burst from happiness.

Just then, the staff made their way toward you, nipping at the edges of your time together. Lewis took a step back, and the moment felt almost surreal.

He let go of your hand slowly, but not without lingering for a moment longer.

"Goodnight, Gorgeous." He said for only you to hear and grinned happily after your embarrassed reason.

You smiled saying your farewell before watching him turn back to the group gathering for the announcement.

You stood frozen, clutching the piece of paper, which felt like a small treasure in your hand. His number was your connection to a world you desperately wanted to be part of.

As you turned toward the camera, your face lit up with a mixture of surprise and glee, capturing the whole moment, you heard the voice of the host spilling out instructions for the event ahead.

You took a deep breath before speaking directly into the lens, the joy radiating from you unmistakable.

“So, looks like we’ll have some exciting plans coming up, folks! Stay tuned for my next race adventure with the Lewis Hamilton!”

With that, you ended the recording, your heart still racing from the whirlwind of emotions.

You glanced back, hoping to catch one last glimpse of him before he disappeared into the crowd, grateful for the serendipitous moment that brought you two together, albeit briefly, in the enchanting ambiance of the evening.

As you stepped out of the cool cascade of the shower, droplets glistening on your skin like tiny jewels, the atmosphere of the Met Gala still danced in your mind—a swirl of vibrant colors, laughter, and the intoxicating scent of sophistication.

You could still feel the weight of the glamorous gown clinging to your skin, a silken reminder of the enchanting evening spent amidst the brilliant and the bold.

Your heart fluttered as you sank onto the plush hotel bed, the soft sheets enveloping you in a cocoon of comfort.

This was the moment you had been waiting for, a delightful collision of excitement and anxiety, as your fingers nervously hovered over your phone.

After a deep breath, you checked for notifications and instantly spotted it—the notifications of the interview you had with Lewis Hamilton, his striking presence still echoing in your thoughts, his laughter resonating like a gentle melody.

Suddenly, in the ongoing reverie, a flutter of memory came rushing back, the way a gust of wind lifts scattered autumn leaves in a jubilant dance.

You could still picture the slick piece of paper he had handed you so casually, his fingers lingering a beat longer than necessary. It seemed so innocuous at the time—a simple slip of white with ink scrawled across it.

But the implications of that note buzzed loudly in your heart. He had mentioned his number, and despite the whispering doubts that David, your manager, planted in your mind, a seed of hope took root.

David's voice echoed menacingly: "Lewis Hamilton is doing all this to seem like a gentleman for the camera and to get more recognition, don’t think for a second that he actually likes you."

The warning replayed in an endless loop, threatening to cage your heart in cautious realism.

With shaking hands, you unfolded the paper, allowing the dim light of the room to illuminate the numbers scrawled across the page.

It was real. There it was, a string of digits that could unlock a connection or forever remain dormant within the realm of what-ifs.

Sitting there, caught in a whirlwind of emotions, adrenaline surged through you.

You took a moment to gather your thoughts, your eyes roaming the room—the opulent furnishings, the soft glow from the chandelier casting a romantic hue.

The allure of possibility mingled with your sense of self-preservation, and with a final resolve, you glanced at your reflection in the nearby mirror.

You looked stunning—and vulnerable.

It was time. In that instant, the logic of David's words fell away, leaving only the heart's whisper urging you forward.

You reached for your phone, fingers trembling as they danced across the screen, dialing the number that Lewis had provided.

Each ringing beep felt like a heartbeat, echoing loudly in the silence of the hotel room, rhythmically marking the passage of time laden with potential.

When the line connected, your heart raced, echoing in your ears as you swallowed hard against a wave of emotion.

"Mr. Hamilton?" you ventured tentatively, every syllable laden with weight, aware that the man on the other end could change everything in an instant.

An electric pause settled in the air before the sound of his laughter broke through, smooth and teasing, engulfing you like warm summer rain.

“Y/N, you don’t have to be so formal, there’s no cameras here,” he quipped, the intimacy of his tone sending shivers down your spine.

Those words settled comfortably in your thoughts, breaking down the walls you had so carefully erected. Suddenly, your fears seemed trivial in contrast to the warmth radiating through the phone, infusing your evening with a touch of magic.

The rhythm of your heart settled into a new cadence, emboldened by his playful demeanor. “So, are you still riding high from the Met Gala, or is it just a distant daydream now?” he asked, his voice dancing along with understated charisma.

A giggle slipped past your lips before you could catch it, the sound bubbling with shared memories and possibilities. “I think I might still be in shock,” you replied, the honesty of your words spilling out effortlessly.

“It was as surreal as I imagined, except I didn’t expect to meet someone like you.”

The connection felt raw and real—two souls uncovering potential amid elegant facades.

The conversation shifted effortlessly, weaving through laughter and shared dreams, as the moments stretched on, elongating time with each heartbeat that harmonized between you.

“So, about you coming to Silverstone to support me?” Lewis asked, his voice laced with a blend of curiosity and anticipation, sending a flutter through your heart.

You could almost picture that trademark smile of his, bright and infectious, the kind that made everything come alive around you.

His enthusiasm felt palpable, radiating through the phone, and you couldn’t help but huff a soft laugh, “Lewis, you really weren’t joking about you being there.”

It was almost absurd how serious he could be, yet here he was, weaving dreams of shared moments at the iconic racetrack, where the roar of engines mingled with cheers, and everything about racing seemed to spiral under the spotlight of your connection.

You admired his earnestness, how he effortlessly broke through the invisible barriers you had built around yourself, prodding at your heartstrings like an artist with a canvas.

“Of course not, I really want you to be there for me.” His words tumbled out so simply, yet they carried the weight of a thousand sentiments, causing warmth to blossom in your chest.

The flustered smile creeping onto your face could easily rival the glow of the sun itself, and you found solace in the fact that this was merely a voice call — nobody could see the way your cheeks burned at his declaration.

It was frustrating how quickly he could spin you into a whirlwind of feelings, leaving you breathless.

“I don’t know, Lewis, my work is very demanding and the income isn’t good enough to take a trip…” you replied hesitantly, a shadow of self-doubt creeping in.

You cursed yourself internally, lamenting over the constraints of your mundane job, longing for the freedom to jet off at a moment’s notice and bask in the thrill of England’s racing scene.

“Is that it? If that’s your only problem, then I can definitely sort something out,” Lewis said with unyielding assurance, his charm scrubbing away the veil of uncertainty clouding your thoughts.

His confidence made you pause, the wheels of your imagination racing.

It was surreal to think that Lewis Hamilton, the very face of resilience and determination in the racing world, was willing to go out of his way for you.

“Lewis…” you began, almost overwhelmed by the thought of him putting in so much effort on your behalf, unsure whether to be flattered or simply dazed by the enormity of the offer.

“Y/N, you just have to agree to come with me, and I’ll do the rest,” he reassured, the confidence in his tone wrapping around you like a warm embrace.

You couldn’t help but think that this might be a one-in-a-lifetime opportunity, the kind that stories are made of. Of course, you wanted to be there.

The thought of cheering him on, of sharing the adrenaline rush as he raced across the track, filled you with excitement. Yet, skepticism still lingered in your mind like a faint cloud.

You paused to ponder, “Is there a catch?” you asked, a glint of suspicion dancing in your voice despite the eagerness bubbling beneath it.

After all, magical opportunities often came with strings attached, or at least that was what your cautious heart believed.

Lewis laughed, the sound a soothing balm that seemed to wash away your hesitation. “I don’t think there is, unless making a beautiful woman fly over to England for you is a crime,” he replied teasingly, and you put your hand over your mouth, stifling a laugh while also trying to hide the giddy embarrassment swelling within you.

How could one man be both charming and utterly disarming?

His words dripped with sweetness as if he were seasoned in the art of affection, and you found yourself fighting a battle against your own defensiveness, the walls beginning to crumble at the sheer conviction in his voice.

“Okay, I accept your offer, Lewis,” you finally said, feeling a sense of liberation wash over you as the words flowed freely, like a torrent finally breaking through a dam.

You knew that this decision could change everything; it felt like a leap of faith that could lead to a world woven together by racing and shared dreams.

“Great! I’ll start getting your paddock pass ready for you,” he exclaimed, happiness echoing in his voice like a song, and you could almost visualize the way his eyes lit up, brimming with enthusiasm that could spark any dormant ambitions. . . .

The excitement in the air was palpable as you packed your suitcase, the warm glow of anticipation wrapping around you like a comforting blanket.

Lewis had called you just three days prior with the news that he would be flying you out to England on Thursday.

"You deserve a little adventure," he had said, his voice cheerful and encouraging. "Plus, I can’t wait to show you around."

"We'll have plenty of time to explore," you had replied, trying to sound nonchalant about the whole thing, but your heart raced at the thought of spending time with him.

The days rolled by in a blur, but Lewis kept you connected through our daily conversations.

"I just boarded my flight!" he texted one morning. you could almost hear his laughter through the screen as you pictured him boarding with his signature style.

Each update from him painted a vivid image—how he texted you from the paddock to show off his team outfit, a tailored suit that clung perfectly to his frame.

"Looking sharp as ever!" you texted back, your heart fluttering at the thought of our video calls, where we’d share laughs and glimpses of our lives, albeit from a distance.

Lewis had a twinkle in his eye as he held up his phone, the screen lighting up with your curious face. "I have someone who wants to meet you, Y/N," he announced suddenly one day, his voice brimming with excitement.

You were lounging on your bed, propped up on your elbows, intrigued by what he had in store.

"Who is it?" you inquired, your curiosity piqued as you leaned closer to the screen, eager to see what was coming next.

As Lewis adjusted the camera, it shifted downward, revealing the floor of his apartment. Suddenly, you heard the soft patter of tiny paws, and before you knew it, a bulldog strutted into view.

He seemed oblivious to the camera at first, but you couldn’t help but call out to him.

"Roscoe!" you exclaimed, your voice filled with warmth.

The moment he heard his name, the big pup spun around, his tail wagging furiously as he searched for you.

In the background, you could hear Lewis encouraging him, "Look at the phone, buddy!"

When Roscoe finally caught on, he erupted into a joyful bark, his tongue lolling out as he playfully licked the screen.

"Someone's excited to see me! It's you, Roscoe, such a good boy!" you laughed, your heart swelling with affection for the adorable dog.

The connection felt instant, as if you were already friends, and you couldn’t help but smile at the delightful scene unfolding before you.

Lewis watched with amusement, clearly enjoying the bond forming between you and his beloved pet.

"Are you sure you haven't seen Roscoe before, he seems to be acting very familiar with you," Lewis laughed as Roscoe was trying his best to get to you by rubbing his face into the phone.

"Nope, this is the first time I've seen him in person," You said, wishing that you were on the other side of the phone to give Roscoe a cuddle. "People say I'm very lovable, I didn't know it stretched to animals,"

"They weren't lying," Lewis muttered for only himself as he watched his son fall in love with you. . . .

Finally, Thursday arrived, and the world felt bright with possibility as you made your way to the airport.

Your phone buzzed with a message from Lewis. "Text me when you land and I'll pick you up."

You pouted slightly, knowing that you had insisted on making your own way to the hotel.

"You don’t have to, Lewis. I can take a cab. You’ve just had a long flight, and I don’t want to inconvenience you." you typed hurriedly, trying to dissuade him.

"Nonsense! You’re my guest, and I want to make sure you get settled in without any hassle. Just trust me, okay?" he replied, his tone playful yet firm, a reminder of his stubbornness that you had grown to admire.

With that, there was no arguing.

When you finally arrived, the familiar feeling of jittery excitement washed over you as you wove through the arrivals hall, scanning the crowd for his familiar face.

And then you spotted him—he looked effortlessly stylish, a radiant smile illuminating his features as he waved enthusiastically.

"Here she is!" he exclaimed, pulling you into a warm hug. you inhaled the familiar scent of his cologne, momentarily lost in the moment.

"Hi, Lewis! You didn’t have to come all this way," you said, trying to play it cool as you two pulled apart.

He shrugged, a playful grin spreading across his face. "I wouldn’t dream of missing this. Besides, it’s not every day I get to hang out with the most stunning woman I've seen."

"Flattery will get you nowhere," you teased back, but the warmth in your cheeks betrayed your amusement.

As you two walked to his car, our conversation flowed effortlessly, punctuated by light-hearted banter and lingering glances that held unspoken promises.

A part of you wondered if he felt the same tension underneath the surface, the way your heart raced each time our arms brushed against one another or how our laughter seemed to echo longer than the sounds around us.

"So, what do you want to do first in England?" Lewis asked as you two settled into the car. "There’s so much to see, and I’m more than ready to show you."

You considered this, excitement bubbling up within you. "Well, I definitely want to see the London Eye, but honestly, just being here with you is enough for me."

His eyes sparkled in the rearview mirror, and for a brief moment, you saw a flicker of something deeper—something that mirrored your own feelings. yet, it vanished just as quickly, replaced with his usual playful demeanor.

"Alright then! Just you wait, this will be a trip to remember."

Lewis drove you to the hotel where you would be staying for the week, the excitement of the upcoming events buzzing in the air. As you neared the hotel, you couldn't help but gaze out at the picturesque setting, your anticipation building.

The towering structure was surrounded by lush greenery, and the sun cast a warm glow over everything.

As he parked, Lewis turned to you with a gentle smile. “Welcome to your home away from home! Let me help with that,” he said, stepping out and grabbing your luggage before you had a chance to protest.

His demeanor was that of a true gentleman, and you appreciated how he always seemed to think of your comfort first.

You followed him into the lobby, the grandeur of the hotel taking your breath away. The high ceilings were adorned with intricate chandeliers, and the air was filled with an inviting warmth.

After a brief check-in, you made your way to your apartment suite, which felt more luxurious than you had expected. You unlocked the door and stepped inside, inviting Lewis to place your luggage down.

“Oh wow, Lewis! This is incredible,” you exclaimed, marveling at the spacious living area, which boasted a stunning view of the surrounding hills.

“You didn’t have to go this far for the hotel,” you muttered, still taking it all in.

Lewis chuckled, his eyes twinkling. “I wanted to, and it’s really close to Silverstone, so I can pick you up in the morning. I didn’t want you worrying about anything while you’re here.”

He set your suitcase down and turned to you, revealing a little envelope in his hand. “Also, here is your paddock pass,” he said, handing it over with a flourish.

You took the pass and looked at it in awe. “Wow, I can’t believe I’ll be in the paddock! This is going to be an unforgettable experience!” You looked up at him, your excitement practically radiating off you. “Thank you so much, Lewis. This means a lot.”

His smile broadened as he leaned against the doorframe. “Just doing my part. You’re going to have a great week; I promise. I’ll pick you up at ten? That gives you enough time to settle in?”

“Ten sounds perfect!” you replied, feeling a mix of gratitude and exhilaration. “But Lewis, I really can’t thank you enough for this. You’ve gone above and beyond.”

“It’s nothing,” he said, his voice earnest. “Besides, it’s my job to make sure you’re comfortable and ready for the weekend. Now, do you need help with anything else before I let you get settled?”

“Honestly, I think I’m good. I’ll just unpack and get a little rest before tomorrow. It’s been quite a journey,” you admitted, glancing around your new temporary home.

“Alright then, I won’t keep you,” Lewis said, stepping back towards the door. “Just remember, I’m just a text away if you need anything.”

He paused at the threshold, a playful grin on his face. “And I expect you to be ready on time. No wanderings through the hotel lobby!”

You laughed, shaking your head. “No worries, I won’t keep you waiting, I promise!”

With a final wave, he stepped out, leaving you in your luxurious suite, the thrill of the upcoming week washing over you like a tide.

As you looked out the window at the sunset painting the sky in hues of orange and pink, you couldn’t help but smile at how perfect everything seemed—and how grateful you were for Lewis being a part of it.

You stood in your newly unpacked bedroom, admiring the sight of your neatly arranged clothes in the wardrobe. Each piece had its place, a small reminder of home. You plopped down onto the bed, feeling a mix of fatigue and exhilaration.

You turned on the TV, wanting a familiar face to calm your nerves. The moment the screen flickered to life, you spotted him—Lewis, with that radiant smile of his, sitting confidently in the conference room.

My heart fluttered as you watched him engage with the journalist, animated and passionate.

“Why do I still get so nervous watching you?” you whispered to the screen, mirroring his expressions as he cracked a joke that made the whole room burst into laughter.

He seemed so at ease, so happy, and it made you grin. But as the conference continued, you noticed him glance at his watch, a familiar look of urgency flashing across his face.

To my surprise, he offered a quick farewell to the people in the room and hurriedly exited the room. You chuckled softly. “Always in a rush, aren’t you, Lewis?”

What you didn’t realize was that his departure meant he had something important to attend to—you.

The thought sent butterflies fluttering in you stomach as you recalled our last conversation.

“Text me when you land and I'll pick you up,” he had promised. He must have gotten your message and immediately left to pick you up.

The thought of that made butterflies erupt in your stomach.

He was just doing this for his reputation. You repeat to yourself, trying to get the thought of Lewis Hamilton liking you out of your head. . .

As the morning sun poured through the sheer curtains, casting a gentle glow upon your bedroom, you stirred from slumber at the soft chimes of your clock announcing that it was just 8 AM.

Yet, restlessness fluttered within you, an unyielding excitement mingling with the tremors of anticipation.

Today was not just any day; it was a moment poised on the cusp of something magical, something enveloped in the promise of romance.

You swung your legs over the edge of the bed, the cool touch of the wooden floor grounding you, and felt your heart race in sync with the rhythm of your eager thoughts.

Images of Lewis filled your mind—his charming smile, the way his laughter lit up the room, the aura of confidence he exuded in that unmistakable Mercedes uniform.

Selecting the perfect outfit was crucial; it had to embody elegance while echoing your growing infatuation with him.

You settled on a classic jet black dress, its fabric soft and flowing, perfectly mirroring the sleek tone of his Mercedes. The color seemed to beckon, much like the promise of adventure before you, stirring a wave of confidence within you.

You slipped the dress over your head, watching as it cascaded down to hug your curves in all the right places.

Standing before the mirror, you meticulously arranged your hair, letting soft waves frame your face, and applied makeup to accentuate your features—a subtle hint of romance in every brush stroke.

Time seemed to blur as your excitement melded with an anxious yearning for the text that would signal his arrival.

You checked your phone repeatedly, promising yourself it would be just moments away, but instead, an electrifying tap on your door startled you, pulling you out of your reverie.

Your heart raced even faster as you approached the door, curiosity dancing in your veins like fireflies in the twilight.

You hesitated briefly before swinging it open, your breath hitching at the sight of Lewis standing there in his pristine Mercedes uniform.

The black fabric contrasted sharply with his deep complexion, and you could see the hint of disbelief in his eyes as they traveled from your dress to your face, lingering longer than necessary, his lips slightly parted in awe.

For a fleeting moment, the world around you faded into oblivion, and you stood entranced by the magnetic pull between you.

A feeling of nervousness washed over you, choking back the words you longed to say, leading to a self-critical whisper, “Is it too much? Should I change?”

Your voice barely rose above a whisper as embarrassment washed over you, the vulnerability of a romantic moment sending your mind into a flurry of doubt.

To your surprise, Lewis snapped back into focus with a wide grin breaking across his face, illuminating the air between you with an unexpected warmth.

“No! I mean no, you look amazing,” he breathed, his voice flirtatiously laced with sincerity. “I was just stunned by your beauty.” Those simple words cascaded over you like a soothing balm, erasing your uncertainty as a rush of flustered energy surged through you.

With your heart fluttering like a captive bird ready for flight, you felt a smile spread across your face—a beautiful mirror to his.

You finally closed the door behind you, the sound muffled by the magic pulsating in the air, as you wrapped your fingers around the strong curve of Lewis’s arm that he offered to you.

The world beyond felt tantalizingly distant as your connection grew, a potent blend of eagerness and hope swirling between the two of you.

With your heart racing in rhythm to the hurried beats of the moment, Lewis guided you out of the hotel and towards his waiting car, a sleek Mercedes that gleamed under the gentle morning light.

The drive to the paddock was quick, just as Lewis had promised, yet each passing moment in his company felt like a fleeting treasure, leaving you yearning for just a little bit more.

As he maneuvered the car through the bustling streets, your laughter filled the air, mingling with the soft hum of the engine, and you found yourself hanging onto every word he said, equally as enthralled by the subtle charisma of his voice as by the depth of his stories.

The conversation was weaving a beautiful tapestry of shared interests and playful banter, with each anecdote revealing another layer of who he was.

But suddenly, with the gentle thump of the car coming to a stop, it felt painfully abrupt.

The heaviness of the moment rested on your chest; you wished you could linger in that bubble of warmth, just a moment longer, before reality ushered you both into the thrumming chaos of the paddock.

As he helped you out of the car, his touch was delicate yet firm, igniting a spark that coursed through your skin as you stepped onto the asphalt.

You both headed towards the paddock, your heart racing in anticipation—not just of the buzzing environment but also for the chance to stand beside him in this exhilarating world.

You flashed your pass at the entrance, the small piece of plastic suddenly feeling like a ticket to an uncharted adventure, and followed closely behind Lewis.

The way he waved to the adoring fans sent a rush of pride through your veins; you could see their surprised expressions when they realized who was accompanying him, an unexpected twist in the narrative that made your heart flutter with delightful mischief.

Once inside the garage, the atmosphere was electric, a spectacular blend of excitement and adrenaline as the staff bustled around, their dedicated energy palpable.

They were welcoming, treating you with kindness and warmth, probably because you were with Lewis.

Yet, as you absorbed the scene—the myriad of tools, the gleaming car, the stacked tires—there was a stillness inside you; you were no longer just a bystander but a part of this captivating world. You found a spot in front of the many TVs, each screen poised to bring the race to life, the anticipation tangling your nerves as you prepared for the spectacle.

You turned to Lewis, who began explaining the intricacies of the garage operations, and although you were a newcomer to the sport, his passion was infectious, igniting an eagerness deep within you.

"I got something for you, Y/N," he said, his eyes sparkling with a hint of mischief, breaking up the flood of information he had been sharing.

You blinked in surprise, leaning slightly forward, curiosity piqued. “What is it?” you asked eagerly, your heart flutterin.

Lewis shifted playfully, a smile dancing on his lips as he rummaged behind him and emerged with a black cap, resplendent with his signature emblazoned across the front.

In that instant, your face lit up with joy; his gesture felt intimate, something so personal yet shared openly with the world.

You thanked him, slipping the cap onto your head, feeling the weight of it ground you in reality, but also lift you into a new realm of possibility.

“How does it look?” you asked innocently, tilting your head playfully, seeking his validation, as if the cap itself carried the promise of his approval.

“Perfect,” he replied without hesitation, his gaze holding yours—warm, unwavering. You couldn’t help but blush at his compliment.

“Supporting me does suit you,” he added with a teasing smile, the playful banter making your heart race even faster than before.

In that moment, you realized how right he was; wearing this piece of him made you feel connected, almost like an extension of who he was in this dynamic world.

With a light-hearted push, you nudged him, the laughter escaping your lips in a gentle rhythm, creating a moment that people would kill to capture.

But before the magic could linger longer, a staff member called for him, signaling that it was time to prepare for the practice race. As you watched him walk away, every step taking him further into his world, a bittersweet feeling settled in your chest.

Just then, a cameraman approached, the lens of his camera zooming in as he directed his focus towards you.

As you caught sight of the camera, you instinctively smiled and waved, a mixture of shyness and excitement bubbling within you.

You were about to turn your attention back to the screens when, from the corner of your eye, you glimpsed the caption that flashed: your name followed by "Lewis Hamilton's partner."

The weight of that label struck you in that instant, a delightful shock that pierced through the air, echoing in your mind as both a chance happening and a beautiful reality.

You hadn’t anticipated the intimacy of that moment being broadcast to the world, yet it felt incredibly right, as if everything had aligned perfectly in that exhilarating chaos of the race world.

Suddenly, the noise around you faded, and in that moment, you felt an undeniable sense of belonging, as if you were no longer just a spectator but a pivotal part of a greater story unfolding in the dazzling world of Formula 1. . . .

You could feel the weight of disappointment lingering in the air as Lewis emerged from the chaotic hum of the paddock, his face betraying the inner turmoil that he tried so valiantly to mask.

While he adorned an exterior of calm confidence, tucking away the feelings of a seventh-place finish, his eyes spoke volumes—a glimmer of frustration intertwined with determination.

It was a moment that made your heart ache for him, a reminder that even the greatest champions wrestle with the trials of their passion.

As he stepped into the garage, you instinctively opened your arms, drawing him into a suffocating hug that melted away the façade for just a moment.

“You did good,” you whispered gently in his ear, as you could feel the tension gradually release from his shoulders, even though you knew he felt he could have done more. You held him tightly, relishing the warmth radiating from his body, allowing him a fleeting escape from the relentless world of competition.

Lewis lingered in your embrace longer than necessary, allowing his head to find refuge in the crook of your neck, seeking comfort amidst the storm of competitive disappointment.

In that fleeting bubble of intimacy, you felt your heart race, realizing that these simple moments—while overshadowed by the pressure of the race—were what truly mattered.

But as he reluctantly pulled away, a shadow of embarrassment flickered across his features, and he muttered an apology that hung in the air like a dewdrop clinging precariously to a petal.

“Sorry,” he said softly, and you could see that familiar streak of humility running through him, the man who, despite his victories, remained grounded amid the roar of accolades.

���Don’t apologize; you needed that,” you replied, your voice steady but affectionate, reassuring him that moments of vulnerability were not a sign of weakness, but rather a testament to the depth of his passion.

His faint nod reassured you that he was starting to let go, if only for an instant, of the relentless expectations he harbored for himself.

“Now, you change as fast as you can, we need to see the whole of London before Roscoe starts missing you too much,” you declared with a playful nudge, pushing him gently toward his driver’s room.

There was an infusion of excitement in your voice, a spark of adventure that contrasted with the somber ambiance of the paddock. The thought of showing him around the city ignited a new energy within you, one that suggested a fresh start, a break from the taxing intensity of competition.

Lewis responded with a half-smile, momentarily distracted from his earlier humdrum. “I’ll be back in a second, stay here,” he replied with a determined glint in his eyes, and you watched him retreat, feeling a pang of anticipation for the adventures that lay ahead, even if they were just fleeting moments of joy amidst the backdrop of grandiose skyscrapers and historic streets.

As you settled into a nearby chair, you watched the flurry of staff and mechanics bustle around his car, fine-tuning every minute detail as if it were a delicate piece of art being prepared for an unveiling.

The love for machinery and the intricacies of the racing world enveloped the space, yet your mind wandered aimlessly, drawn towards your phone in an attempt to find some levity amid the seriousness of the day.

A flicker of curiosity prompted you to dive into Twitter, where you scrolled through the effusive commentary of fans speculating about your relationship with Lewis.

What struck you was the mix of admiration and bewilderment, as many fervently debated whether you were merely a cousin, a relative, or something even more storied—his wife, perhaps?

A bubble of laughter escaped your lips at the absurdity of it all; “I wish,” you muttered under your breath, momentarily lost in a world of fantasy where the lines between reality and desire blurred enticingly.

But before you had too much time to dwell on your musings, a familiar voice broke through your reverie. “I’m back! Are you good to go?” Lewis announced, and your heart leapt at the sight of him clad in casual attire—a crisp black T-shirt fitted snugly against his chiseled frame, paired with dark denim jeans that accentuated his athletic stature effortlessly.

He looked remarkably different, stripped of the racing gear that had just a moment prior defined him, and instead exuding a relaxed charm that made your pulse quicken.

There was a mischievous sparkle in his eyes, an energy that seemed to dance with untold stories and adventures yet to unfold.

“Yep, let’s go!” you exclaimed, enthusiasm bubbling within you as you slid your phone into your bag, keen to prioritize the moments of spontaneity that awaited beyond the confines of the paddock.

Together, you made your way to the back exit, slipping away from the clamor of racing fans who thronged towards the main entrance.

A shiver of excitement coursed through your veins as you both stepped into his car, the sleek interior a stark contrast to the chaotic noise that defined the day thus far.

The familiar scent of his cologne enveloped you as the door clicked shut behind you, creating an intimacy that felt both safe and exhilarating.

Lewis turned to you, and you could see the remnants of his earlier disappointment beginning to fade, replaced by an electric anticipation that mirrored your own.

���Where do we start?” he asked with a sly grin, tilting his head, eager to soak up every ounce of the city he loved.

“The London Eye, obviously! We can stroll along the river and see the sights,” you suggested, your voice brimming with enthusiasm.

This was your chance to share a piece of yourself with him, to weave together the threads of your lives in a way that felt effortlessly beautiful.

As he pulled out onto the road, you caught the unmistakable glint of excitement in his eyes. Each moment held the promise of connection while the city unveiled its secrets before you.

As you both embarked on your little tour of London, sharing laughter and playful banter, it became clear that this day would be more than just a distraction; it was an invitation for intimacy and understanding, to forge a bond that danced in freedom, not tethered by the constraints of the race or its disappointments.

You could feel yourself beginning to drop the pretense of being just a friend—every exchange and subtle glance became charged with unspoken words and possibilities.

The world outside blurred, and for that brief moment, all that existed was you and Lewis, wandering together down streets lined with splendor while time unceremoniously slipped away.

And as you shared stories amidst the laughter, with each word and each shared memory, you couldn’t shake the feeling that perhaps, just perhaps, what started as a pitiful race day could lead to something woven with romance and dreams, a blossoming connection fueled by shared experiences that danced just beyond the horizon of a typical friendship.

As he told stories of past races and the whimsical incidents that peppered his illustrious career, your heart ached with admiration—not just for the racer he was but the man behind the helmet, someone with dreams as grand as the city itself, melding seamlessly into the rhythm of your own heartbeat.

In that moment, surrounded by the vibrant pulse of London, everything felt right.

As the sun began to dip below the horizon, painting the London sky in hues of orange and pink, Lewis and you made our way to the London Eye. It had been an exhilarating day exploring the city, but deep down, you had been eagerly anticipating this final adventure.

You had never been on a Ferris wheel before—not in the US, where I'd grown up, nor anywhere else for that matter.

The towering structure beckoned to you, its silhouette against the evening sky a symbol of the iconic moments that London had to offer. Yet, beneath the thrill of excitement bubbling within, you felt a familiar flutter of anxiety in the pit of your stomach—my fear of heights.

As you two stepped onto the glass capsule, your heart raced. The floor felt solid yet somehow surreal, and you instinctively reached out for Lewis's hand, clutching it tightly as the ride began its ascent.

The moment you two started elevating above the bustling streets, you felt a rush of panic wash over you. “Oh my gosh, it's so high!” you gasped, glancing down briefly. “Why did I agree to this?”

“Might be a little late for that realization.” Lewis chuckled softly, his warm smile radiating calmness.

He squeezed your hand reassuringly, and his gaze met yours, steady and encouraging. “Just look at the view. It will be worth it, trust me.”

You took a deep breath, forcing yourself to look out at the panorama unfolding before us. The Thames glimmered below, and the city lights began to twinkle, creating a beautiful tapestry.

“Okay, it is pretty amazing,” you admitted, feeling a sense of awe creeping in as you took in the landscape.

“See? Nothing to be scared of.” He flashed a grin before leaning in a little closer, his voice soft against the gentle hum of the ride. “Hey, let’s talk about your project—the one that reduces carbon footprint.”

You brightened at the mention of your project, the excitement momentarily overshadowing your trepidation. “Oh yeah! So, I’ve been researching this method of carbon capture using algae, which is fascinating!” you replied, your nerves diverting as you got lost in the details. “They absorb CO2 much more efficiently than trees...”

“Really? That sounds incredible! Algae might not be the first thing that comes to mind when you think about fighting climate change, but it makes so much sense.” Lewis’s interest was palpable, and you found comfort in sharing your passion, your earlier fears nearly forgotten.

“It does, right? And the best part is it can be grown in almost any environment. I mean, it could revolutionize how we approach carbon emissions!” you felt your enthusiasm grow as you spoke, and for a fleeting moment, you forgot about the height.

“I love that you’re so passionate about this,” Lewis said, nodding appreciatively. “It always makes me think about how we can all play our part, no matter how small. Like taking the tube instead of driving. It seems little but actually makes a huge difference.”

“Exactly! Every action counts. I just hope my project can inspire others to think about their impact on the environment, maybe even help spark a movement.”

Suddenly, the capsule paused at the top, and you felt your breath catch again as you glanced out. “Wow,” you whispered, the whole city laid out like a glimmering mosaic beneath you. “It’s... breathtaking.”

“See? You did it!” Lewis said, breaking into a proud smile. “You made it to the top. And look at how beautiful everything is! This is what you came for.”

You nodded slowly, finally able to appreciate the view without that tightening grip of fear. “You were right, Lewis. I’m so glad we did this.” I turned to him, realizing in that moment how grateful I was for his support. “Thanks for holding my hand through this.”

He laughed lightly, “Always. I think I’ll be holding your hand during the descent too, just in case.”

As you two finally began our gentle descent, you injected a playful note into the air. “If I scream, just remind me that I won’t fall.”

“I got you,” he replied, still holding your hand firmly. “We’ll conquer this fear together.”

As you both descended from the ferris wheel, your fingers remained interlaced, a testament to the bond that had formed between you.

Neither of you seemed willing to sever that connection, as if the thrill of the ride had woven an invisible thread that held you together. The vibrant lights of the fairground flickered around you, but your focus was solely on each other.

"I can't believe I actually did that," you remarked, glancing up at him with a mix of exhilaration and disbelief.

"Right? I thought you were going to scream the whole time," he replied, chuckling softly. His laughter was infectious, and you found yourself smiling wider.

The moment felt suspended in time, a perfect encapsulation of joy and companionship. As you approached Lewis' car, he gently squeezed your hand, and for a brief moment, you hesitated, reluctant to part ways.

"You know, I could get used to this," you said, your voice barely above a whisper.

He looked at you, his expression serious yet playful. "What, holding hands or riding ferris wheels?"

"Both," you admitted, your cheeks flushing slightly. Just then, Lewis opened the car door for you, and reluctantly, you released his hand, feeling a pang of loss as the warmth of his touch faded.

You stepped into the car, your heart racing with the promise of more adventures to come. . . .

The night seemed to conspire against your fatigue, offering no respite as your mind swirled with thoughts of Lewis, each cascading wave filled with warm anticipation.

As dawn broke, casting a soft golden glow through the hotel room window, you reluctantly opened your eyes, momentarily squinting at the light.

You felt more drained than you had the previous day, but excitement surged through you like electricity—today was the day Lewis would welcome you into his world and unite you with Roscoe, the bulldog whose playful spirit had captured your heart.

The thought of seeing him again put a spark in your step, propelling you from the comfort of your bed and urging you to prepare for a day filled with unknown joy and warmth.

You dashed into the bathroom, the cool water of the shower invigorating your senses, washing away the remnants of exhaustion.

After the steamy shower, you rummaged through your suitcase, determined to put together an outfit that would both thrill and impress. you finally settled on a flowing sundress in a soft, pastel blue that danced gently around your knees, perfect for the bright day ahead.

You paired it with a lightweight denim jacket, knowing you might need an extra layer later, and slid on your favorite ankle boots; they felt both casual and chic.

But the pièce de résistance was the signed hat—a structured wide-brimmed beauty that Lewis had gifted you just yesterday.

It sat atop your head, a charming reminder of the budding connection you two shared and added an air of confidence to your look.

As you admired yourself in the mirror, you twirled slightly, causing the dress to billow around you and your heart to flutter with the thought of Lewis.

The knock on the door snapped you back to reality. You opened it with a beaming smile, your excitement palpable.

Standing before you, Lewis appeared effortlessly handsome in his casual attire, a little rumpled from what you imagined must have been a busy morning.

His eyes lit up at the sight of you, and before you could think, you jokingly raised your arms and asked, “How do I look?” The way he regarded you, his gaze lingering and softening, filled you with a warmth that spread through your entire being.

“Breathtaking,” he replied, the sincerity in his voice catching you off guard.

You couldn’t help but shy away from his gaze momentarily. “Thank you, Lewis,” you managed to say, still caught in a delightful web of surprise as you stepped outside, leaving the hotel behind.

We walked towards his car, and as he opened the door for you, the small gesture felt steeped in kindness, a hint at the chivalrous man he was.

“I’m just describing what I’m seeing,” he said with a teasing smile as he helped you into his car.

You felt your heart leap at each word that rolled off his tongue—a simple admission that held a depth of meaning you longed to explore.

The drive to the paddock was punctuated by leisurely conversation, laughter spilling easily between you two, and soon you two were waving at enthusiastic fans along the route, their cheers only enhancing the thrill of the moment.

The sights and sounds of the racetrack felt familiar, yet each visit held a novel excitement, especially with him by your side.

Once you two arrived at the Mercedes garage, everything became a beehive of activity, each team member focused on the monumental task ahead: qualifying.

Lewis had mentioned that his dad was coming to watch him this weekend, and the thought made your heart flutter. You found yourself secretly hoping that you might get a chance to meet him, to see where the source of Lewis's passion and determination came from.

Watching Lewis slip into his racing gear was mesmerizing; he moved with a graceful urgency, each movement deliberate yet fluid, threading the air with palpable confidence.

You couldn’t help but admire how he transformed into this fierce competitor in mere moments, the ease with which he stepped into his role stirring an admiration deep within you.

“So, the qualifying—what do you think is going to happen?” You ventured, curious to discover the intricacies of his racing mentality.

Lewis paused, considering your question as he donned his helmet, the glint in his eyes suggesting a thrill of anticipation. “I just focus on each lap and trust your instincts. That’s all I can do. But having you here makes it feel even more special,” he said, his words wrapping around you like a warm embrace.

His admission settled into your chest, stirring something profoundly sweet, as you realized just how much our connection meant to him as well.

My fingers curled around the hem of your dress as you mulled over his words, excitement racing in tandem with your heartbeat.

Soon enough, the atmosphere was thick with anticipation as the time for qualifying drew near, and you could feel the electrifying energy in the air. Lewis, with his trademark confidence and undeniable charm, was whisked away into his car, the roar of the engine sending shivers down your spine.

You positioned yourself in your assigned seat, glued to the television screens that illuminated the bustling paddock.

Each moment that ticked by only heightened your excitement as you watched Lewis's car take to the track, maneuvering through each turn with grace and precision.

The tension built during Q1, your heart racing in sync with the telemetry data flashing across the screen.

Just as you thought you had reached the peak of your adrenaline, you felt a light tap on your shoulder, pulling you from your reverie.

Turning around, you were pleasantly surprised to see Lewis's dad, Anthony, standing there, a warm smile dancing on his lips.

You quickly removed your headphones, eager to engage with him, as he had always struck you as a genuinely kind person. “Hello, it’s wonderful to see you!” you greeted him, feeling a flutter of excitement.

Without hesitation, Anthony gestured for you to follow him into Lewis's driver room, filled with a hint of nervous energy.

As you two entered, Anthony’s playful demeanor sparked a hint of curiosity within you.

“I’ve been wondering who the beautiful woman your son has been with these days,” he remarked, and your heart skipped a beat at his words, suddenly feeling the heat rise to your cheeks.

Caught off guard, you stuttered a bit, completely flustered by the unexpected compliment. It was in that moment that you understood exactly where Lewis had inherited his flirtation and charm.

“Sorry it took so long to meet; Lewis has told me a lot of you,” you managed to say, your voice slightly trembling as you spoke.

Anthony chuckled, a twinkle in his eye that mirrored his son's playful spirit. “All good things, I hope?” he asked teasingly, his eyes narrowing with playful mischief, making you laugh softly in response.

The sincerity of his interest made the room feel instantly warmer, and you couldn't help but feel a newfound connection between you two.

“Of course! Your son is a true gentleman,” you assured him wholeheartedly, enthusiasm spilling from your lips as you recalled moments shared with Lewis.

Anthony’s eyes sparkled with the joy of a proud father listening to the praise he had longed to hear.

“I’ve heard. I also heard that he likes you,” he said, his expression shifting into one of intrigue, and suddenly, you felt the world around you fade into a haze of disbelief at his bold assertion.

My heart raced even faster at his comment, a whirlwind of emotions twisting within me. “No, I think that’s just a rumor—” you started to defend, yet your voice trailed off as you struggled to find the right words to counter his claim.

The fluttering possibility of Lewis harboring feelings for you sent a wave of warmth rushing to your cheeks, and the vulnerability in your tone revealed your genuine shock.

“Y/N, I think I know when my son likes a woman,” Anthony said with a straightforwardness that left you momentarily stunned.

You met his gaze, searching for signs of jest, but there was only sincerity written across his features.

“It’s complicated,” you finally admitted, your voice softening as you grasped the weight of his words. The prospect of a romance with Lewis was tantalizing yet terrifying at the same time, a dance on a precipice you had not anticipated.

As Anthony leaned against the wall, his expression shifted to one of fatherly approval, you could sense the protective warmth radiating from him.

“You don’t have to worry,” he continued, “Lewis is a good guy, and he deserves someone who appreciates him as much as he does.”

His assurance wrapped around you like a warm embrace, filling you with hope and possibility at a time when you was craving clarity about your burgeoning feelings for his son.

“Thank you, that means a lot to me,” you replied, your voice imbued with sincerity.

There was something reassuring about Anthony’s presence; it made the entire experience feel more sacred, as if love was being woven into the very fabric of the moment.

As you stood there, sharing glances with this kind-hearted man, you felt the weight of unspoken words — a bridge of understanding forming between parents and their children, and how love always finds a way to connect you in the most unexpected of circumstances.

“I just want to make sure he’s happy,” you added earnestly, your emotions surfacing as you reflected on the connection you felt with Lewis, leaving you hopeful for what lay ahead.

Lewis climbed out of his car, the roar of the engine fading as he removed his helmet. As he stepped away from the adrenaline-fueled world of motorsport, a wave of relief washed over him, the weight of the race lifting from his shoulders.

The cheers of the crowd echoed in the air, but at that moment, all he could see was you, standing there with a radiant smile that mirrored the joy in your heart.

Your arms opened wide in celebration, and when you enveloped him in a warm hug, it felt as if the two of you shared a world all your own, where victories were sweeter just because you were there to witness them.

“Congratulations,” you whispered, your voice a gentle caress amid the chaos surrounding you.

“Thanks,” Lewis replied, his eyes gleaming with both relief and happiness. But there was something else dancing in those hazel depths—an urgency, as if something unsaid lingered between you.

His gaze flickered past you, landing on a figure standing in the backdrop, and he asked, “Have you spoken to my father yet?”

The concern in his tone made your heart flutter. You turned slightly to follow his gaze, spotting Anthony engaged in conversation with some frantic staff members, his presence calm among the bustling chaos of the post-race scene.

“Yeah,” you said, your heart racing, not just from the excitement of the race but from the idea of what Anthony had shared with you.

“Y/N,” his father had said with a knowing smile, a glint of mischief in his eyes as he leaned closer, “I think I know when my son likes a woman.”

“Really?” Lewis asked, his voice laced with curiosity, his brow raised in intrigue. You couldn’t help but catch a hint of a smile tugging at his lips; the connection between father and son was palpable, and you could feel the warmth radiating from them.

“What was it about?” he probed, and there was a soft eagerness in his tone that made your heart skip.

You locked eyes with him, taking a breath to steady yourself before responding, knowing that the truth could weave its own spell between you.

“It’s a secret,” you said shyly, your voice barely escaping your lips as you playfully averted your gaze. The moment felt charged, filled with hidden meanings and unspoken promises, and you could feel the tension building in the air, drawing you closer to him.

“Well, it’s a secret I’d like to know,” he laughed lightly, teasing but genuine. “Can you at least give me a hint?”

The way he looked at you, with those warm, inviting eyes, made it hard to focus on anything other than the connection thrumming in your shared space.

You were enchanted by the way he seemed to lean in closer, as if straining to catch the secret that danced just on the tip of your tongue.

You could see the delight that shimmered in his features, a beautiful reminder that this incredible moment was shared between just the two of you.

“Alright,” you said, leaning closer, your voice dipping to a conspiratorial whisper, “I’ll give you a clue: it involves you.”

“Really Y/N?” Lewis said, sounding disappointed as he brushed a hand across his brow.

You nodded slowly, feeling the back of your cheeks heat up from the intimacy shared, the air thick with unspoken words and lingering possibilities.

"Can you be more specific for me?" Lewis asked, his curiosity getting the better of him and you were enjoying teasing the man.

"Nope, that's the point of a secret and don't be begging your father too. His lips are also sealed," You teased, wiping the beads of sweat from his chin with the cloth.

"I think I know how to get secrets out of my father," Lewis replied, taking the cloth out of your hands and wiping his neck. "Be right back,"

You watched him as he walked over to his father, who was looking proud of his son's achievements. Suddenly Anthony looked over to you and winked, knowing the secret was safe with him, you sighed in relief.

"You ready to go?" Lewis asked, a broad grin lighting up his face as he emerged from his room, now dressed in his casual attire. He sported a soft, navy blue hoodie that hung comfortably on his shoulders, paired with relaxed-fit dark jeans that accentuated his long legs.

The sneakers on his feet were a cool shade of gray, slightly scuffed but well-loved. It was a look that effortlessly combined comfort and style, making him seem approachable yet undeniably attractive.

"Yeah," you replied, glancing back at Anthony, who was gathering his things. "Goodbye, Anthony! It was great hanging out." Your words dripped with sincerity as you waved enthusiastically, a smile lingering on your lips.

As you turned back to Lewis, he chuckled softly, shaking his head in mock exasperation. "Looks like you've become best friends with my dad in just a few hours," he teased, throwing an arm casually around your shoulders as you strolled toward his car.

You nudged him playfully. "Don't be jealous, Lewis. He’s just funnier than you are!" you fired back, laughing at your own jab, the warmth of camaraderie wrapping around you like a cozy blanket.

"Don’t forget who brought you here," he reminded you with a smirk, opening the car door for you. His charming demeanor was hard to resist, and you felt a flutter of excitement in your stomach as you slipped into the passenger seat.

As he slid into the driver’s side, your memory kicked in. "Wait a minute," you said, turning to him with a sparkle in your eye. "We’re going to your house first, right? To meet Roscoe?"

A delighted grin spread across his face. "Are you ready to meet him?" he asked, his eyes twinkling with anticipation, as if he could read your mind.

"Yeah, I’ve prepared myself enough," you joked, pretending to brace yourself dramatically, eliciting a laugh from him.

You could practically feel the excitement bubbling within you at the thought of finally meeting Roscoe, the bulldog whose playful antics and silly personality had already captured your heart over countless phone calls.

The short drive to his apartment was filled with lighthearted chatter, laughter, and stolen glances. Soon, they arrived at his apartment complex, and Lewis parked. You both hopped out of the car, and he led the way, guiding you with a playful swagger toward the entrance.

Once inside, Lewis paused for a moment at his door, opening it with a flourish. "Ladies first," he said, bowing slightly in exaggerated manners. You giggled, stepping inside as he followed closely behind, closing the door with a soft click.

The first thing you noticed was the delightful chaos of the space—dog toys strewn about, a comfy couch in the corner, and the rich aroma of something baking wafting through the air.

But your attention was entirely diverted when you caught sight of Roscoe waddling toward you, big, expressive eyes capturing your gaze completely.

"There he is! Roscoe!" Lewis announced, his tone filled with pride. You crouched down, and the bulldog ambled up to you, his tail wagging like a propeller.

"Hey there, buddy!" you said, your heart swelling as you reached out to pet him. Roscoe responded with an enthusiastic nuzzle, planting his big, slobbery face against your palm.

"He definitely likes you," Lewis remarked, a knowing smile on his face.

You chuckled, scratching behind Roscoe's ears. "How could he not? Look at this guy! He’s adorable!"

Lewis watched as the two of you bonded, the moment feeling blissfully perfect. "I think we have a new best friend," he teased, leaning against the wall with his arms crossed, enjoying the sight of you and Roscoe sharing a precious moment.

And in that instant, surrounded by laughter, joy, and an unexpected connection, you realized this was the beginning of something special—an afternoon filled with warmth and a bulldog that would soon have a permanent place in your heart.

As the last of the sunlight faded and shadows stretched across the cozy living room, Lewis glanced out the window and turned to you with a smile. “Since it’s already getting dark, I think it’d be best for you to stay for dinner before I drive you home.”

You looked at the glowing kitchen where the rich aroma of roasted vegetables drifted through the air. “Are you sure? I don’t want to impose.”

“Not at all. Besides,” he said, nodding toward Roscoe, who was wagging his tail with boundless enthusiasm. “Roscoe clearly doesn’t want you to leave yet. He’s taken quite a liking to you.”

With a soft laugh, you gave Roscoe a pat on the head as he rolled over, exposing his belly for all the affection you could give. “I suppose I could stay for a little longer. Right, buddy?” You scratched behind his ears, causing him to let out a joyful bark, as if to affirm your decision.

As you played with Roscoe, the rope toy caught his attention. You tossed it lightly across the room, and he bounded after it with a joyous bark, his energy infectious. But it didn’t take long before he returned, rope clenched tightly in his mouth, looking at you with those big, pleading eyes.

“Are you sure you don’t need help?” you asked, giggling as you wrestled the tug-of-war rope with Roscoe, who was determined to win. “He’s quite the little beast!”

“ Nope, you just relax and play with Roscoe,” Lewis called from the kitchen, chuckling as he chopped vegetables. “The food will be ready soon.”

You couldn’t help but admire the sight—the way Lewis moved in the kitchen with confidence, the casual ease in his posture. There was something about this moment that struck you as particularly domestic, almost as if you were a couple enjoying a quiet evening together with your dog. You felt a warmth spread through you, mixed with an unexpected shyness at the thought.

“Hey, Lewis?” You turned slightly to get his attention, cheeks faintly pink.

“Yeah?” He looked over his shoulder, a curious tilt to his head as he wiped his hands on a towel.

“Do you… do you do this often? You know, having someone over for dinner?” The question felt a bit bold, but the warm atmosphere encouraged you.

His smile widened, revealing a gleam of mischief in his eyes. “Only with special guests. Roscoe has very discerning taste when it comes to company. He’s quite the judge of character, you know.”

“Oh really?” You feigned surprise, which made him laugh.

“Absolutely. You passed the test. And I dare say, you’re his favorite human now,” he replied, leaning back against the counter, looking comfortable and at ease.

Roscoe, hearing his name, bounded over and dropped the rope at your feet, tail wagging furiously. “See? He’s demanding your attention!” Lewis teased.

You chuckled, grabbing the rope and giving it a playful tug. “Alright, Roscoe, what’s your strategy here? I need to understand your tactics if I’m going to beat you.” You tossed the rope again, and he darted after it, momentarily distracting you from your thoughts.

“You’re getting pretty good at that,” Lewis commented, watching you with an approving grin. “I think Roscoe might have finally met his match!”

After a few more rounds of tug-of-war, you flopped down onto the floor, breathless and laughing. “I never thought I’d be wrestling with a dog tonight.”

Lewis leaned against the doorway, arms crossed, his expression warm and inviting. “And yet, here we are. I’d say it’s a good night.”

You couldn’t help but nod in agreement. “Yeah, it really is.”

Just then, Roscoe curled up beside you, and you instinctively reached out to give him a gentle scratch behind the ears while glancing up at Lewis.

In that little domestic scene, something beautiful and simple brewed between you two, leaving you shy yet hopeful for more moments like this in the future.

"Foods ready," Lewis announced after setting Roscoe's bowl on the ground, a satisfied smile spreading across his face as he watched the eager dog bound over to his meal.

Roscoe sniffed at his food for a moment, tail wagging vigorously, before diving in with joyful determination. The playful afternoon had taken its toll on the dog, and it was evident he hadn’t just worked up an appetite; he had worked up a hunger.

As Roscoe happily chomped away, you stood up from your spot on the floor and made your way to where Lewis had set the table. The beautiful aromas of the dinner he had prepared wafted through the air, filling your senses with comfort and warmth.

“Wow, this smells amazing! What did you make?” you asked, looking at the colorful spread.

Lewis chuckled, a hint of pride in his voice. “I decided to whip up some pasta primavera with garlic bread. Figured we could use something hearty after our adventures outside.” His eyes twinkled as he gestured to the food, an inviting sight that made your mouth water.

You shook your head in disbelief, “You’re the best, Lewis. I can’t believe you cooked all this while I was chasing after Roscoe!” You glanced down at the dog, who was now taking a moment to indulge in a dramatic stretch before returning to his bowl.

He looked up, his mouth full, and let out an affectionate, if muffled, bark. “Are you jealous, Roscoe?” you teased. He tilted his head, responding with an innocent blink, as if he had no idea what you were talking about.

“Hey, I think he’s trying to tell you he deserves to be spoiled after all that running around,” Lewis chimed in, grinning. “But don’t worry, you’ll get your share of spoiling too right now.”

Placing a generous helping of pasta onto your plate, Lewis added, “And for dessert, I made chocolate mousse. It’s chilling in the fridge, waiting for you.” The mention of dessert made your stomach rumble in excitement, and you couldn’t help but smile.

“Seriously? Chocolate mousse? Okay, now you’re just trying to win my heart,” you said playfully, taking a seat at the table.

You noticed how Roscoe glanced up at you, licking his lips in anticipation. “And what about you, buddy? Don’t think you’re getting any chocolate. It’s all for us humans!”

“Just wait until I tell him ‘off’ when he tries to steal bites from your plate. He’s persistent,” Lewis laughed, shaking his head as he filled his own plate. “But I’ll keep him busy with his favorite toy until we’re done.”

As you both began to eat, the conversation flowed easily between bites. You shared stories about childhood memories, musings on the challenges of adulting, and hopes for the future, all while Roscoe settled under the table, letting out the occasional contented sigh as he savored his meal.

“Everything tastes even better when you share the kitchen with someone you enjoy,” you remarked, your fork raised in appreciation.

Lewis looked up, his expression softening. “I feel the same way. It’s nice to have someone to share these moments with.”

As dinner wound down, Lewis leaned back in his chair and sighed. “Alright, Roscoe, time for a little break. You did a great job eating, but now it’s our turn to indulge in dessert. Are you ready for the chocolate mousse?”

Roscoe’s ears perked up at the word 'chocolate,' but you shook your head with a smile. “Sorry, buddy, no chocolate for you. But I’ll make sure you get an extra treat tomorrow for being such a good boy tonight.”

"You'll come back tomorrow?" Lewis asked surprised.

"Of course I'll need to see my favourite dog before I go back to the States," you said easily, petting Roscoe in the ear.

Lewis' face fell in disappointment at your words, a reaction you might have missed if you weren't paying close attention. His eyes, which had been bright with anticipation just moments before, dimmed as the weight of your statement settled in.

The soft glow of the lamp cast a warm light over the room, illuminating the cozy mess of blankets and toys strewn across the carpet.

Roscoe with a perpetually wagging tail, lay sprawled in the middle, paws twitching as he dreamed. Lewis and you sat cross-legged on the floor, you attention divided between a tattered tennis ball and the dog’s joyful antics.

“Hey, Roscoe, catch!” you shouted, tossing the ball into the air. He sprang up as if launched by a spring, bounding after it with glee, his fur glistening in the light.

You laughed as he returned, the ball clutched triumphantly in his mouth. “Good boy!” you leaned down to scratch behind his ears, feeling the warmth of Lewis’ body close to yours.

“You've really got a way with dogs,” Lewis said, a hint of admiration in his voice as he watched you interact with Roscoe. You glanced up to meet his gaze, and the air between you shifted, thickening with unsaid words and fleeting glances.

There was a moment, a heartbeat, where it felt like the world had narrowed down to just you two — you, him, and the soft panting of Roscoe in between.

“Thanks,” you replied, your cheeks warming slightly. “But it’s really him that has all the charm.” As you spoke, you noticed how close Lewis had moved, his shoulder brushing against you.

Your heart skipped a beat, and you could feel your breath hitching slightly, the tension in the air almost electric. Your eyes locked, and for a moment, it seemed you would bridge the distance that separated the both of you.

But then, like a cold splash of water, David's voice echoed in your mind, warning you about Lewis.

“He doesn’t like you like that; it’s all for his reputation.” The thought made your stomach twist.

You abruptly pulled back, a rush of embarrassment flooding over you. “Um, I think I should…” you started, trying to formulate an excuse that wouldn’t make you sound foolish.

“Wait,” Lewis said, reaching out and gently grabbing your wrist. The warmth of his touch sent another jolt through you, but you couldn’t let it sway your thoughts.

“Where are you going?” There was genuine concern in his eyes, and it momentarily melted your resolve.

“I just… I need to go. It’s getting really late,” you stammered, fumbling to gather your scattered thoughts and the few belongings you had on the floor.

You stood up awkwardly, trying to shake off the weight of the moment you two had nearly shared.

“It’s dark out, though. At least let me take you home. It’s too dangerous to walk alone at night,” he pleaded, his expression earnest. You hesitated, the conflict within you swirling like a storm.

“Okay,” you finally nodded, still feeling the remnants of embarrassment prickling at your skin.

You grabbed your coat, offering Roscoe a quick goodbye. “See you later, buddy.” He tilted his head, as if sensing the shift in the mood.

The drive to your apartment was wrapped in an uncomfortable silence, the kind where every unspoken word hung heavily in the air. Lewis stole glances at you from the corner of his eye, and you pretended to focus on the passing streetlights, your heart still racing from what could have been.

Once you two reached the hotel, you turned to face him, trying to conjure a smile. “Thanks for the ride, Lewis,” you said, but your voice sounded hollow even to your own ears. You could see him searching your face, but you didn’t want to let him in.

“Are you sure you’re okay?” he asked, his brow furrowing in concern. “You seem… distant.”

“I’m fine,” you replied quickly, the words barely leaving your lips before you hurriedly added, “Really.” you opened the car door, desperate to escape the tension that had built up like a pressure cooker.

“Okay… well, goodnight,” he said, a hint of disappointment in his voice.

“Goodnight,” you echoed, stepping out into the cool night air, trying to dispel the emotional turmoil churning within you.

As you made your way to the entrance, you could feel Lewis’ gaze following you until you slipped inside and shut the door.

The moment you were alone, the weight of everything hit you like a tidal wave. You stumbled to your bed and collapsed, the tears flowing freely as you processed the confusing whirlwind of emotions.

The hum of Roscoe’s playful energy, the lingering warmth of Lewis beside you, and the cruel reality of David's words conspired together, leaving you feeling fragile and broken.

When had things become so complicated? You buried your face in your hands, overwhelmed, as you tried to navigate this tangled web of friendship, affection, and fear. . .

“Did I ruin everything, Roscoe?” Lewis asked, his voice trembling slightly as he let out a sigh, collapsing onto the soft carpet of his living room.

The stark contrast of the vibrant colors around him seemed to amplify the weight of his emotions. He glanced at the door, half-expecting to see your radiant smile again, the same smile that had captivated him since the very first moment.

But that smile had been displaced by the heavy cloud of doubt that now loomed over him.

“What if she never looks at me the same way again?” he muttered, his thoughts swirling like autumn leaves caught in a brisk wind.

Roscoe trotted over, sensing the heaviness that enveloped Lewis. With soulful eyes, the bulldog placed his head on Lewis's lap, offering unspoken comfort as he met his gaze with an understanding that needed no words.

“I should have been more patient,” Lewis continued, running his fingers through Roscoe’s fur, his heart aching at the thought of losing you. “But she's just so beautiful, so full of life. It overwhelms me.”

The words flowed from his lips, each syllable a tender confession as he wrestled with his own fault lines.

The memory of you—your laughter ringing like sweet music, the way your eyes sparkled under the sun—danced in his mind, and he found himself yearning for the light you brought into his life.

“You love her too, right?” he asked Roscoe, his voice softening with vulnerability.

Roscoe responded with a joyful bark, an affirmation that seemed to echo the depth of Lewis’s feelings, as if to say, "Yes, she is the one."

Just thinking of your expression when you left, the flicker of fear in your eyes, made his chest tighten with regret.

Soft, fluttering memories spiraled in his imagination, each one highlighting the incredible moments shared—the warmth of your hand in his, the laughter echoing through his garage, the way the winter breeze intertwined with your soft, unguarded whispers.

Roscoe tilted his head, as though he understood the tempest within his owner’s heart, and Lewis chuckled bitterly.

“What do you know of love, Roscoe? You have your toys, your treats, and that’s that,” he said, but deep down, he recognized that beneath that simplicity lay a profound truth.

"If only it could be so simple for us,” he whispered, gazing into Roscoe's eyes, hoping for an answer, a spark of clarity that seemed to elude him.

Perhaps he didn't ruin everything. Perhaps this was his moment to reclaim what was rightfully his—the connection that had blossomed so beautifully between the two of you.

With newfound determination igniting within him, Lewis knelt beside Roscoe, taking in the loyal creature for a source of hope. “Let’s not give up,” he said, brushing his fingers through Roscoe’s fur one last time.

“Tomorrow, after the race I'll tell her. I’ll tell her how much she means to me.” The resolve in his voice steadfast, he looked into his companion’s eyes, feeling the unspoken promise echo between them.

Roscoe barked again, tail wagging, as if he could sense the shift around him. “Yeah, we’ll make this right.”

You knew today was going to be so awkward when you woke up and saw the dog treats scattered on the floor. Just yesterday, you'd been wrapped up in a whirlwind of emotions.

You and Lewis had almost kissed, but fear had held you back, leaving an unspoken tension that lingered in the air even now. Instead of leaning in, you had let him drive you home in silence, your heart thumping in your chest as you wrestled with what could have been.

As you stared at the mess on the floor, a part of you longed for a way out. You knew Lewis would be picking you up today for the grand prix, and your mind raced with thoughts of fabricating an elaborate story about being sick.

But deep down, you couldn't deny it—missing him already felt unbearable.

You didn’t want to miss the race, especially with the thrill of seeing him light up the track ahead of you. With a resigned sigh, you got out of bed and began your preparations, washing away the fears that clung to you like the morning fog.

Deciding on an outfit was an emotional balancing act itself. You wanted to feel cute yet comfortable, something that reflected your excitement and also the nervous energy bubbling beneath the surface.

Finally, you settled on a sleek Mercedes shirt that Lewis' father had gifted you just the day before, paired with a flirty mini skirt. As you looked in the mirror, you felt a mix of confidence and anxiety coursing through you.

Once you were ready, you hovered by the door, waiting for that inevitable knock. Your heart raced with anticipation as the seconds dragged on. Finally, there it was—a firm, familiar rap that resonated through your chest. Holding your bag tightly, you opened the door to greet him.

Lewis stood there, looking effortlessly amazing in a fitted black shirt and sleek joggers that accentuated his athletic frame. His braids were tousled just right, framing his face in a way that made you want to reach out and touch it.

The morning sun caught the gleam of his earring, enhancing the sparkle in his eyes. For a moment, you were speechless, lost in him.

You felt heat rise to your cheeks. “Is it too much?” you asked, suddenly self-conscious, glancing down at your outfit.

“Not at all,” he replied, stepping closer and meeting your gaze. “You look beautiful wearing my team's shirt.” It felt like a melody, the way he spoke, and you could hear the sincerity in his tone.

Your heart swelled at his words, gratitude washing over you like a warm blanket.

Neither of you mentioned last night, and that made you feel a strange sense of relief. Perhaps you both needed a little more time to navigate those uncharted waters.

Instead, you shifted the focus and talked about the race, discussing your hopes for the day and your excitement about the atmosphere at the track.

As you both climbed into his car, the tension felt lighter, almost playful. “So, do you think I can beat Max today?” he asked with that familiar cocky charm that always made you smile.

“Of course! With you behind the wheel, I wouldn’t bet against you for a second,” you replied, excitement bubbling in your voice.

“That’s what I like to hear,” he shot back, his eyes sparkling as he began to drive.

As the track came into view, the thrill of the day rushed in, pulling you both from the space of uncertainty. Today was about racing, adrenaline, and celebrating something that felt bigger than both of you.

And deep down, you knew that sooner or later, you would face what happened last night, but for now, in this moment, you were grateful just to be by his side. . . .

The roar of the crowd still echoed in your ears as the adrenaline from the race settled into a sweet, soothing buzz of triumph.

Lewis had just clinched his first win of the year at the British Grand Prix, and the atmosphere in the garage was electric with celebration.

Everyone was ecstatic—team members high-fived, some shed happy tears, and you felt an overwhelming rush of joy as you basked in the shared euphoria.

“Unbelievable, wasn’t it? He nailed that last lap!” one of the mechanics shouted over the celebratory din, clapping you on the back.

As the cheers continued, you turned to see Lewis’s dad beaming with pride as he approached you. “Come here!” he said, pulling you into a warm hug. “You’ve been a huge support for him. Thank you!”

With a genuine smile, you pulled away. “It’s all Lewis! He did it all today.” You followed the throng of people heading toward the paddock, eager to see where Lewis would park his car for a well-deserved celebration, but the crowd was thick, and progress was slow.

“Excuse me, coming through!” Bono, Lewis’s race engineer, called out, effortlessly parting the crowd with his presence. He glanced back at you and extended his hand. “Here, I’ve got you. Let’s get you to your driver.”

You gripped his hand tightly as he guided you through the throng of ecstatic fans and staff. The lush green of the paddock soon came into view, and excitement bubbled within you.

By the time you arrived at Lewis’s car, the atmosphere was jubilant. Lewis was already engulfed in hugs from his team, laughter and shouts blending into a chorus of celebration.

Amidst that lively chaos, Lewis’s eyes scanned the crowd, and when they finally landed on you, it was as if the world fell away.

A wide grin spread across his face, and he bounded over, leaving a trail of joy behind him.

He gave Bono a playful dap on the way past before enveloping you in a tight embrace that felt like a lifeline. Your heart raced, feeling his warmth and excitement radiate through you.

“I can’t believe it! You did it!” you exclaimed, your voice muffled against his shoulder.

“I know! I really can’t!” He chuckled, burying his face in your neck, his arms firmly around your waist as if scared to let go.

The excitement, the sweat, and the fear of losing this moment melded together in a glorious array of emotions you never wanted to end.

“I’m so proud of you, Lewis,” you whispered softly into his ear, your heart swelling with affection.

Finally, he pulled back, a radiant grin lighting up his face that could rival the sun itself. “Thank you! That means the world to me,” he said, locking his gaze with yours.

“Hey, can you meet me in my driver’s room later? I want to talk to you about something.”

Your heart raced anew, understanding the implication in his request. You nodded, unable to suppress the smile tugging at your lips. “Of course.”

Reluctantly, he let you go, his fingers lingering on your arm for a moment longer than necessary. “I need to go hug my dad and talk to everyone, but I can’t wait to see you later!”

Lewis called over his shoulder as he turned to rejoin his father, who was waving him over, still beaming with pride.

You watched him go, your heart fluttering. The thought of what was to come made your anticipation bubble over.

The air in Lewis' driver’s room felt charged with an electric tension, the kind that often accompanies moments that can alter the course of a friendship.

You glanced around the room, taking in the trophies and photos that celebrated his career achievements, but your mind was far from the accolades.

Your heart raced as you rehearsed the words in your head, wondering if they would even come out right. You had decided that today would be the day you finally told him about your feelings, no matter how nervous it made you.

“Hey Y/N,” a voice broke through your thoughts, sending a jolt of surprise through you.

You spun around to see Lewis leaning against the doorframe, a playful smile adorning his face. Despite the lighthearted demeanor, your pulse quickened even further.

“Lewis,” you managed to mutter, your voice barely above a whisper. “I need to tell you something.”

“What is it?” he asked, his brow furrowing slightly as curiosity replaced the playful glint in his eyes.

Taking a deep breath, you gathered your courage. “Well, I’m sorry I falling in love with you, okay? But it happened, and I can’t do anything about it.”

The words rushed out of your mouth in a torrent, fueled by a mix of urgency and rebellion.

You were leaving for the US today, after all; there would be no more consequences after this, at least none that you could face today.

Lewis blinked, his expression shifting from amusement to surprise. “You… What?” he stammered, processing your confession.

“Yeah, I know it sounds ridiculous but it's true,” you continued, feeling a strange mix of relief and anxiety wash over you. “I tried to ignore it, thinking it was just a crush or something, but it’s not. And I didn’t want to leave without being honest with you. So there it is.”

The silence that followed felt heavy, your heart pounding in your chest. You dared to meet his gaze, and for a moment, everything else faded away.

“I’ve always felt some sort of connection between us,” he finally said, his voice low and thoughtful. “But I didn’t know you felt this way.”

“I didn’t either for the longest time, Lewis.” You paced a little in the small room, your nerves still high. “But every moment we spent together, every laugh and the way you looked at me—it just made me realize how I felt.”

Lewis walked toward you with an intent look, his gaze steady as he noticed your anxious pacing. With a gentle grip, he stopped you in your tracks, firmly yet tenderly holding you in place.

The world around you faded momentarily, leaving just the two of you in a bubble filled with unspoken words.

"You're too nervous when you haven't heard my side yet," he said, his tone a mix of concern and amusement.

Your heart raced, and you finally mustered the courage to respond, your voice slightly trembling as you retorted, "Because I already know what your answer is." A flicker of mischief danced in his eyes, and you felt both exasperation and relief wash over you.

"Which is what? Does it include ‘I love you too’ in it?" Lewis teased, his grin widening as he caught the surprise etched on your face. His playful approach seemed like a lighthearted facade, but you could sense the underlying seriousness in his words.

“Lewis, you can’t just joke about that,” you said, attempting to push him away, as if wishing to distance yourself from the emotional weight of the moment. You were caught in a whirlwind of emotions, each more potent than the last.

"I'm being serious," Lewis insisted, his expression shifting as he stepped closer, momentarily silencing the protests echoing in your mind.

“You may be serious, but that doesn’t change the fact that you’ve made it impossible for me to figure out what I feel,” you admitted, your voice cracking ever so slightly and exposing the vulnerable truth you had hidden deep within.

The air felt thick, and your emotions swirled chaotically, battling against the desire for clarity and connection while grappling with fear and uncertainty.

He reached out, his finger softly lifting your chin, forcing your eyes to lock onto his. "Do you know why I called you here?" he asked, his voice low and sincere, almost as if he were sharing a cherished secret.

You shook your head slightly, unsure of what to say, the anticipation hanging fragilely between you. As he began to speak again, each word came out wrapped in a warmth that made your heart flutter.

“I wanted to tell you that I love you, to not leave today and stay more days with me. I was even going to try to bribe you by saying that Roscoe was going to miss you too much.”

With every few words, he inched closer, cupping your face, his thumb gently rubbing your cheek, igniting a fire within you that competed with the cold fear that had gripped you moments ago.

His declaration knocked the breath from your lungs, and the gravity of his confession anchored itself in your heart, rendering you momentarily speechless.

You had imagined this moment countless times, but hearing the words come from him felt alarmingly surreal.

“Don’t try and lie, Lewis,” you muttered, skepticism lacing your tone, disbelief lingering just beneath the surface. “You don’t love me.”

It was a desperate attempt to shield yourself from the potential heartbreak that could arise if what he was saying wasn’t genuine, and yet, deep down, you clung to a fragile hope that he meant every syllable.

"How can I prove it to you?" he asked, his earnestness brushing against the walls you had built around your heart.

A moment of silence enveloped you both, and as your mind raced, a spark of defiance ignited within you. You knew that if he was sincere, he would be willing to do anything to show you just how real his feelings were.

And before you could even think it through, the words tumbled out of your mouth: "Kiss me like you mean it."

You could hardly believe you had uttered those words, yet the challenge stirred a wild anticipation within you.

“As you wish,” Lewis murmured, a soft smile gracing his lips as he leaned in closer.

His lips brush against yours, hesitant at first, like the gentle caress of a spring breeze coaxing flowers to bloom. Your heart races as you lean into him, the warmth of his body igniting a spark within you, while his hands rest on your hips, firm yet gentle, pulling you closer as if he is attempting to steal your very breath.

The kiss deepens, each exploration of his mouth becoming a silent promise, a secret dance under the stars that are beginning to twinkle above.

You can feel the world around you fade away, leaving just the two of you, lost in the cocoon of your shared intimacy, a sanctuary born from the connection that feels electric and alive.

As the kiss evolves from slow and sweet to something fervent and consuming, there’s a delicious tension in the air, palpable and intoxicating.

The way Lewis responds to you, his hands gripping your hips with a barely contained urgency, sends shivers of delight cascading down your spine.

You wrap your arms around his neck, feeling the strength of him against you, grounding you as everything else blurs into insignificance.

Your heart thrums loudly in your chest, your thoughts scatter like leaves in the wind, and all that matters are his lips and the way they meld with yours, igniting a fire that burns brighter with every shared breath.

He pulls you closer, as if the distance between your souls is far too great, and you can’t help but giggle in the moment, playfully teasing him as you pull back slightly, searching his eyes for unspoken words and the desires that linger just below the surface.

Gazing into his deep eyes, you catch your breath, the avarice of the kiss leaving you dizzy with exhilaration. You notice the way Lewis' hands twitch at your sides, the unmistakable want radiating from him, begging for permission to explore further.

It’s endearing how respectful he is, yet you can sense the beast of longing within him, restrained but unable to disguise itself completely.

"Are you holding back?" you tease, tilting your head playfully as you meet his gaze, heart racing not from fear, but from the thrilling affection that dances between you.

His lips curve into a smile, warm and inviting, a secret shared between just the two of you, and he responds, his voice low and irresistibly charming,

“Maybe I am, but only because I don’t want to overwhelm you… yet.” The air between you hums with the unspoken promise of more, leaving both of you teetering on the edge of something exhilarating yet tender.

You can't help but press further, letting the playful context of the moment draw out his desires even more. "But you still need to prove it to me that you love me," you throw out, a challenge hanging between you like tantalizing mist, thick with expectation.

You watch as his brow furrows in mock seriousness, barely able to contain your laughter. “That kiss wasn't enough?” he asks, feigning confusion, yet you see the intensity in his eyes, a glimmer of amusement mixed with something deeper that pulls you in.

His hand started to move, fingers cascading over your mini skirt, tracing the delicate fabric as if mapping uncharted territory. The sensation sent shivers running down your spine, igniting a spark of desire that left your breath hitching.

"You have no idea how beautiful you look right now," he breathed, his voice a soft whisper that felt like velvet against your ear.

The intimacy of the moment enveloped you as you met his eyes, your heart racing in rhythm with his own. You could see the desire reflected in his gaze, and suddenly, the space between you closed like the cresting tide, pulling you both into the depths of a kiss that was tender, full of promise, and laden with the heat of anticipation.

Yet just as you began to lose yourself completely in the intoxicating haze of passion, a sudden knock on the door shattered the intimate cocoon you had woven together.

You jumped slightly, a startled gasp escaping your lips, but Lewis tightened his hold around you, grounding you in the present even amidst the intrusion.

“Lewis, everyone is looking for you to celebrate,” came George's voice from the other side, carrying an air of urgency that seemed to tug at the edges of your romantic bubble.

The weight of reality crashed in—a reminder of the outside world that waited just beyond the door—but you could feel Lewis’s breath against your cheek, warm and soothing, as he whispered softly, “Let them wait a moment longer. I’m not done with you yet.”

[whyyousoloudfor]

Quick Tease.

18+

“Oh my god, can you please cover up? Everyone can see your titties.” You teased walking up to your boyfriend, your eyes zoned in on his tattooed chest as you approach him. With a smirk on his face, he snakes his arms around your waist pulling you closer. “You’re so dramatic, my titties are not out.” He chuckles leaning down to pepper sweet kisses along your jawline before saying, “and even if they were, you like it… so what’s the problem?” You playfully your eyes knowing he’s right but he didn’t need to say it and rub it in your face. He’s such a tease, he knows exactly what he’s doing. A soft sigh escapes you at the feeling of his lips on your skin. He kisses the shell of your ear. “Why? You like what you see, baby? Is it turning you on? I bet that sweet little pussy is wet right now, isn’t it Angel?” Your back up against the wall of his Mercedes garage, one of his hands now in your hands braids. A handful enough to yank your head back allowing him more access to devour your neck, kissing and sucking on your skin. Biting down on your bottom lip to stop any moans from slipping out, your fingers playing with the zipper on his fireproof suit, itching to pull it all the way down and have your way with him in this very garage. Until you realized anybody can walk in at any moment.

A sharp body jerking smack on your ass causes you to snap out of your thoughts making you hiss out in pleasure. “Use your words, Y/N.” You moan out. “Fuck! Yes baby. I’m always wet for you, you know that.” One hand clenching onto his suit while the other caresses the soft skin of his chest running your acrylic nails over his compass tattoo heading south. Footsteps could suddenly be heard coming towards the garage which means duty calls. Lewis groans against your neck muttering several curse words and you giggle thinking what is he mad about? This is his place of work? He removes his face from the crook of your neck and looks at you apologetically before leaning down to give you a kiss on the lips. “Sorry Angel, I’ll make it up to you and my pussy later. I promise.”

And you knew he would, no doubt about it.

Author’s Notes: I don’t know if I would even call this a blurb anymore? I just started typing and didn’t stop? But anyways? Thoughts and comments?

[urfavblackbimbo]

Dutty-Wine and Games

(This the reader’s facecard but just imagined her being thicker ☺️ and this is what Terry’s wearing for tonight.)

Summary: It’s date night for you and your man Terry and he wanted to surprise you by taking you to the Caribbean Festival that  you were talking about to him couple months ago and Terry getting you a souvenir that tested his man-strength also not knowing that tonight you would get your man high for the first time.

Warnings: Est. relationship, black fem. reader, n-word usage, D/s dynamic, smoking weed (a joint), kissing, oral(fem. rec x2), cursing, spitting, choking, hair pulling, dirty talk, praise kink, ass-spanking, squirting, unprotected p-in-v, doggy-style, the reader’s legs are on his shoulder(idk the position.)

Word-count: 3.5 k 18+ (this is the song that use dutty-wine scene if y’all wanna listen you can🙂‍↕️)

You’ve been dating Terry for the past eight of months and it has been amazing with him since he moved here to Atlanta after winning his case against Shelby Springs Pd and getting a large sum of money for himself and paying back Mr.Liu in ten folds and to have the restaurant to be open for decades. You met Terry on a dating website for other black people to meet, once you saw his profile and them beautiful hazel eyes he had with his bulging arms and large print you knew you had to have him. And today is another date night with him even though you don't know where you’re going.

“So I have a surprise for you, it’s something that we’ve seen a couple of months ago and it’s finally here this weekend.” Terry pulls into an empty lot to find parking for his truck to back in, turning off the ignition and coming around to open the door for you and only grabbing your phone and your lipgloss since you won’t need your purse.

“Good baby you are so fine right now, you lucky there’s going to be people there cause if not-” You put a hand on his gold chain he had laying on his chest to pull him down to kiss you, his soft lips overpowering you, slowly being push up against his truck, putting your hands up against his hips to push away “Okayyy daddy, you are done you still have to tell me what my surprise is?” looking into his eyes and shifting to his lips and back to his eyes “Well for what I’m wearing that should give you a hint?” smiling back at you and stepping back for you while holding your chocolate hand.

Your eyes shift down to his shirt to see he is wearing his curacao shirt that was makin’ look like a full course meal, his shirt fitted around his arms so deliciously with his big ass guns he had on him with his khakis pants that filled his legs out sooo good and his white forces and then you realized and smelling many flavors of jerk chicken, plantains being cooked, and a light smell of weed; your eyes widened “The Carribean Festival, awhh Terry I thought you forgot that I  told you that I always wanted to go.” you poke out your bottom lip in happiness showing a down towards smile to him  “Awhh babygirl don’t cry, you’re gonna mess up your pretty makeup.” He swipes his thumb in the corner of your eye to catch your tear and wipes it on his shirt “All-right I’m starvin’, let’s go inside before I eat something else mhm.” Terry smacks right on your ass making your Jamaican colored dress giggle.

You both made inside with him paying for the both of you, this festival was fucking huge with rollercoasters, kiddy rides, carnival games and tents full of vendors selling their amazing food, Terry let you choose for what you both wanted for dinner, you ended up getting a plate of jerk chicken and rice and a side of fried plantains and Terry got a bowl of beef stew with rice, carrots and potatoes with two drinks, as he paid for the both of you again, both of you sit a table.

“So do you want to ride any of the rollercoasters while we're here babygirl?” Terry holds out both of his hands in front of you, nodding your head at him and resting your hands on top of his large palms “Yeah daddy you know I’m not  a scaredy cat. I’m a big girl.” sticking out your tongue at him, he licks his lips  and smirks “Oh so you a big girl now huh, so you don’t need daddy no more huh?” as he told you that you were zoned out on his veins and hands, lightly scratching your smaller hands ontop of his and looking up at him and looking into his eyes shaking your head no repeatedly “Noooo daddy.” almost coming out as a whine from you, he gives you a chuckle “You know I’m just playin’ with babygirl I know you in love with daddy’s dick.”  he leans over to give you a wet kiss on your lips.

“Order for Terry, Order for Terry.”

He comes back with the food and lays it in front of you, you were in foodie heaven and you were starvin’ like marvin too and both of you dig in eating your delicious food, you look at his bowl and somehow he already knew what you were thinking, he places a couple of pieces of meat and carrots with sauce on your plate you smiled at him and thanked him “Did you want some of my mine too?” he nods his head with still found in his mouth, you grab your fork to pick off the chicken and rice for him and had in the air for him and opens his mouth to you and gracefully took the food, you look at him as he eats the food, you were in a traced that someone could look so sexy while there eating once he swallows it and it goes down you couldn’t help but to look at his thick neck a sheen of sweat that made you wanted to climb over the table and tackle him.

Both of you walked around the festival once you guys were done eating holding each other hands and looking at people, rides, and hearing laughter coming from all around you see a dance floor in the middle of the festival with some dutty-whine music playing throughout the place you lead him to dance floor, slowly moving your hips to the beat of the song Terry comes up behind you to stop where you were at and put his hands on your hips and starts to dutty-wine with you, your hands were on your knees moving your hips in a eight figure then throwing it in a circle and Terry was right there to catch all the wines, you slowly bend over hips while still moving in a circular motion he grabs one your arm to hold your balance while you grind on him, you look over long black french curls braids to see him biting his bottom lip and gripping on your hips, raising back against his chest while twerking on him, he turns you around to face him.

“Fuck babygirl you got me so fuckin hard right now, grinding that ass on me I feel like I was about to nut if you didn’t stop.” you put arms around his neck and peck his lips also to block anyone that would see your daddy’s hard-on “We can stay like until your soft daddy.” he raises his head to look at you and gives you a sloppy wet kiss. A few minutes later Terry was feeling better and both kept walking through the festival in-hand and you stopped in your tracks to walk up to the booth and asked the worker at the tall sledgehammer machine.

 “Excuse me, how many games do I need to win that teddy bear up there?” the buck-tooth boy turns “Four ma’am.”

You turned around to look for Terry and seeing him already behind you not leaving you any room, his gorgeous eyes going straight to your heart and pussy “You want that big ass teddy bear babygirl?” you plead with your eyes and put on your best pouty face and wrap your arms around his neck and gettin’ all close to his face “Please please daddy- pretty please?” giving him a kiss on the lips he wraps his arms around your waist he takes a deep breath “One more-mhm one more- one more babygirl.” you giggle in his arms “All right babygirl here take my phone, I’m gonna get you that teddy bear.” and gives you a small love tap on your ass and pays the worker then grabs the large sledgehammer.

The first bell he got was effortlessly, the second bell as well, by the third bell he had a crowd around him and you were cheering him on, and by the fourth bell he used all of his might and went it ringed you screamed and ran to him then jumped on him wrapping your arms and legs around him, giving him kisses “Thank you - thank you - thank you so much daddy.” and you still kept kissing on his face, he snorts out a giggle out as he put you down on your feet and rest his hand on your hips “Your very welcome babygirl.” “Ma’am here’s your bear.” 

You got tired of carrying the bear and had Terry carry it for you as you both were walking back to the truck, he opens the passenger side first for you to get in then he stuffs the teddy bear in the back seat and gets in on his side and turns on the ignition “Back to your place baby?” you looked at him “Yeah daddy let’s go.” you take your phone to be dj for the both of you and listen to Paramore and some RnB songs on the drive home.

You opened the front door of your apartment to let Terry in so he can put the teddy bear on the couch and his night bag on the carpet you turned on some lights so you can see Terry  and closed the door “You know being at that we were just at the festival today and eating some good food  and dancing I have the perfect way to close out having this full caribbean experience, be right back.” You walked to your room to get your goodie bag and bring it out to the family room to show him. 

“I’ve never smoked weed before, I wasn’t allowed to do it when I was in the marines.”

You slowly put back your joints that you had in your bag “But....If I wanted someone to be my first for this I would want it to be with you.” he turns to look at you “Thank you for trusting me daddy and I’m gonna get you so fuckin’ high you have no fucking idea.” you give him a kiss on the lips and one more for good measure and grab your goodie bag to sit out on your patio and smoke Terry out for the first time. 

You spark the first joint in your mouth inhaling the smoke and exhaling it out, Terry was watching you  the whole time seeing how your body language became relax under his touch and you holding it out in front of him to take a hit   “You just want to do a little hit first, there you daddy.” He coughed abruptly out the smoke, you set down the joint to grab some water for him and came back with a glass of water for him and your pink Stanley for yourself, he took a couple of more hits before letting you hit it again “How are you feeling daddy?”  he takes an even deeper breath and rubs your chocolate thigh “I feel really good babygirl. Thank you for this.” you handed it back to Terry “You’re welcome daddy, hey have you ever done a shotgun before?” Seeing him inhaling the joint and blowing it out his mouth, you couldn’t believe that this nigga has never smoked weed before and with him under the warm sunset making him looking like he was a fucking emperor with him smoking this joint, shakes his no at you “What’s that?” you slowly pull your lips in a smile.

You fill your lungs with smoke as you ashed the joint in your bowl, then grab his face to come closer to your lips and push out the smoke into his mouth, lips lightly touching each other then he moves his head up to blow out the smoke. Your mouth was slightly parted as you stared at your daddy’s adam- apple move up and down and the veins that pop out the side of his neck out, he pushed out the last bit of smoke and looked down at you and smirked  “What?” still looking at him “You so handsome daddy mhm, with yo’ fine ass.” Terry grabs your hand and brings it up to his lips “Let’s go inside babygirl, I don’t want none of these little niggas know what I got, come on.” and opens the sliding glass door for you to go inside.

As you walked in, Terry closes the door and locks it and walks over to the front door and locks that one too then walks over to you to pull you into your bedroom, almost feeling like your were flying Terry turns on the bedroom light and walks over to you to pull you in for a kiss “Mhmm daddy I need you.” he gives you another kiss “What do you need baby, use your words.” he leans down to kiss your neck you moved your head the other side of give him room and moaned, moving your hands up his back to grab on the back of head his soft lips and tongue kissing all your spots making you want to his full lips somewhere else “Oh shit daddy I need to you to eat my pussy please ughh pleaseee.” 

“You want me to eat your pussy babygirl huh? this pretty pussy, you need daddy’s lips on you.” 

Terry took of your dress and threw it across the room and lifted you up to throw you on the bed, taking off your bra and throwing it in the corner of your room he climbs ontop of you he rests his crotch on your clothed pussy slightly moving his hips against you, he takes his hand to hold your cheek and give you a wet sloppy kiss in his mouth. You moaned in his mouth and Terry kissed down your neck to your chest then sucking on each of your breast and kissing your tummy, he sits up to take off his shirt ‘fuckkkkk meeee this nigga has to be the worldest finest man to walk on this earth’ you thought to yourself.

Terry kisses down your chocolate thighs and spreads your legs apart “Lift that ass up babygirl.” Terry takes off your panties and throws it behind him he grabs your thighs closer to his face and kissed both of your inner thighs then the bottom of your cheeks giving you little bites of pleasure “Ah- Ahh! Daddy stop teasin’ meee?” kisses your bottom one more time and hold on to your legs and dive right into your pussy, his tongue swirling all around you and bring it up to your clit slowly sucking on it, you put your hand on his head Terry moves his lips to eat you all the way up and flattens his tongue against you, moving his head against you then he lifts his head to spit at your pussy and growled against you.

“Fuck babygirl god I love this fuckin’ pussy soo much, do you wanna nut babygirl?” “Yess daddyyy.”

Terry kept eating you out with his tongue is flicking over your clit, your thighs were shaking and fighting against Terry’s hold, but it was no use then you grind out your climax on his face he gave you little kisses around your pussy and comes back up for air to face you, his goatee was dripping of you then leans down to kiss and tasting yourself on his lips the sweet and tangy flavor of it. You grab his belt to unbuckle it for him and he stopped you to pull down his khaki pants and took off his forces then got back on the bed, he grab your hips to him and got ontop of you with his fist next to your face “You ready for daddy’s big dick babygirl?” Biting your bottom lip  and nodding your head.

“Yeesss dadddyyyy I want your dick- I need it - I need it so bad daddy please - give me your big daddy dick.” you gave him kisses on his full pink lips.

Terry sat up and grabbed your legs to put them on his shoulders and slowly enters your pussy, moving to a pace to slowly open you up “Fuck your pussy is so fuckin’ tight babygirl, here baby relax your legs for me ughh fuckk mee ohh yeahh that’s it babygirl.” Your legs were spread wide to your chest under the firm hold of daddy’s fingers “Ohh shitt daddy you’re fucking. Mee. Soo. Good ohh ughh fuckkk.” Terry picks up his pace to fucking you deep in your guts, he leans over to give you a wet nasty kiss he slipped his tongue in your mouth and you suck on it then biting his lip “Babygirl I can feel your pussy grippin’ me, fuckk baby are you gonna nut on my dick? You can do it babygirl, nut on daddy’s dick.” Terry hips were fucking you dizzly and your legs started to squirm again “ugh - ugghhh - uggghhh ohh fucckkk” releasing your wet essence on his dick. 

“Turn the fuck around.” 

He grabs your hips to flip you over on your hands and knees then pulls your hips back to face him “Goddam babygirl look at this wet pussy, this is all for daddy huh?” you lay your head on the pillows and relax your back by pushing your hips out. You moaned his name “Yes yes daddy it’s all for you, please eat my pussy daddy.” Terry smacks both of your cheeks, you gasped feeling the lightning strike you moan that turned into a whine “Daadddyyy.” Terry grabs both of your arms to hold them behind your back and he gave you a long wet lick from your clit to ass and back down to your clit then kissing down your pussy his tongue swirling in your pussy  “Fuckkk daddyy ughh ohh fuckkk.” Terry used his hand held onto your hip to hold you in place so you take whatever he gives you. Feeling the heat rise again in your lower tummy, you try to scoot away but Terry leaned forward to give his tongue lashing and slurping your clit as well. 

“Oh my fuckin’ god daddy ughh oh shit, you’re eatin’ my pussy soo good oohh fucckk dadddyyyy I-I’m gonnna cumm.”

Terry just kept eating you up as you wetted his face, he growled into your pussy then gave you a few pecks down your ass and released your arms and made you be on your hands and knees and you groaned out “Daddyyy.” He pulled back your hips to him “Can you give me one more babygirl? Come on you can do it baby, you’re doing soo good for daddy, don’t you wanna make daddy nut?” he leaned over your body then grab your chin to look at him with his lips just barely touching you and push your lips to him and slides in your pussy once more, Terry stretching you out and grabbing a handful of your braids to sit you up as he drilled into you, he wrap his hand around your throat and slightly closing your airways under his grip. 

“Who’s pussy is this? Is this daddy’s pussy babygirl?”

“It-t’s  yourss daddy fuckkk it’s all your pussy ooh fuckk.”

“Open your mouth for daddy.” 

You sticked out your tongue and looked into his eyes Terry lets go some spit on your tongue and swallowing it down, he gives you sloppy kiss as he fucks the shit out you “Ughh daddy I don’t think I can cum ughh ughhhh.” Then feeling three wet fingers rubbing your clit, you horsley moaned loudly out and having your heat rise up in you for the last time “It’s okay babygirl if you wanna nut? I know you do. I can feel you mamas go ahead daddy’s gotchu.” You felt like you were exploding, shaking and shivering on Terry’s dick, him still fucking you through your climax and lets go of your neck so you fall on your pillow. He gives you a few more strokes before he cums deep inside of you.

You rest your head on his chest, listening to his speed-up heart “Thank you for this night daddy I had so much fun tonight I love you sososo much daddy.” he grabs your chin to have you look up at him “ I love you too babygirl. Daddy loves you very much and I'm glad that we went to that festival together babygirl.” Terry pulled the covers up from under the sheets and to see one large wet spot on the bed, you both looked at eachother with wide eyes and with you feeling embarrassed and covered your face then he slowly uncovers your face to hold your face in his hands.

“Heyy there’s no need to be embarrassed about this babygirl, I’m happy and proud that I was able to get to that point okay babygirl.” and gives you light pecks around your face “I’m gonna grab a towel and get a new comforter for us okay.” Once you both got situated in the bed and he had his arm wrapped around you pulling you close to him and relaxed behind you then you as well drifted off to sleep.

Holy fucking shit I can’t belive I just wrote all that 😳but I’m soooo happy that I did, I couldn’t help myself anymore thinking about this black king 🥵💕 and y’all this nigga got me like I want this nigga’s baby frfr 🤰🏿but if you had enjoy this thank you so much and I know in my heart that this nigga know how to dance I just feel it in my spirit, that nigga can and I wanted to talk about his heritage for the plot of the story. Andd High!Terry Bitchhh there was something in that weed that made him bionic cause nigga was hard for 4 rounds straight (like if he was the terminator) and Dom!Terry is always gonna do it for me especially if the nigga’s nasty, but thank you to everyone who read this it means really alot to me.

Love, Nazzy 💕

[allurefix]

FAN OF A FAN - 3k+

18+ 𝙈𝘿𝙉𝙄 | 𝘱𝘭𝘶𝘴 𝘴𝘪𝘻𝘦 𝘣𝘭𝘬 𝘧𝘦𝘮, 𝘪𝘮𝘱𝘭𝘪𝘦𝘥 𝘣𝘰𝘥𝘺 𝘴𝘩𝘢𝘮𝘪𝘯𝘨, 𝘢𝘨𝘦 𝘨𝘢𝘱, 𝘰𝘳𝘢𝘭 (𝘧 𝘳𝘦𝘤𝘦𝘪𝘷𝘪𝘯𝘨) , 𝘶𝘯𝘱𝘳𝘰𝘵𝘦𝘤𝘵𝘦𝘥 𝘴𝘦𝘹, 𝘭𝘦𝘸𝘥 𝘥𝘦𝘴𝘤𝘳𝘪𝘱𝘵𝘪𝘰𝘯 𝘰𝘧 𝘣𝘰𝘥𝘺 𝘧𝘭𝘶𝘪𝘥𝘴.

The packed Javits convention center was rumbling with the sounds of noise, but the thumping in Bree's chest was probably louder. Her heartbeat drowned out everything, including the conversation those around her were having while they stood waiting.

Bree didn't do events with large gatherings because it triggered her anxiety. Experiencing Fanatics Fest was especially overwhelming, as she was by herself. Bree was definitely out of her comfort zone, but it was worth it because she'd be meeting her fav wrestler and crush Jey Uso.

Currently she and surrounding fans had been waiting for about an hour, as the Fest was unorganized. The times for photo-ops were either wrong or delayed, leaving everyone confused. Not to mention there were no seating areas, so Brees feet were aching from having to stand.

To lessen her uneasiness, she talked with her friends in a groupchat. Updating them on the situation and how she was feeling, getting support and jokes in return.

Finally after what felt like forever, fans were directed to Jey's line. And with the line moving fast, Bree's heart-rate increased as she neared the Samoan wrestler. The small breaths she inhaled and exhaled weren't helping stabilize her jittery nerves.

She glanced down at her hands, one holding her phone and the other holding a handmade card. Jey loves waffle house, so she included a $25 gift card, along with a heartfelt note. Now what was hidden behind the gift card, was a piece of paper with her number and name. A sneaky yet bold attempt at shooting her shot.

Four girls were in front of Bree, and she could see that the interactions were short, barely any time to make an impact. Hopefully she could make hers in another way.

She was next in line, watching as a fan got a pic before walking off. Then it was her turn, and with a whirlwind of emotions she walked over to him with the cutest smile.

"Hiii, h-happy early birthday" she beamed, handing him the card as he grinned "for me? Thank you baby."

Her brain short-circuited.

Baby?

The way it rolled off his tongue in that deep voice, almost made her collapse. Somehow she maintained her composure, and they shared a side hug before the picture was taken. She inhaled his scent, nearly fainting at the masculine cologne that flooded her nostrils. They pulled away as he said one last thing "I appreciate it."

"You're welcome."

In a flash she was ushered away as she looked back to see him engaging with another fan. She covered her mouth, voice muffled through her hand "what the fuckkk." Taking a deep breath after.

She ended up finding the womens restroom to collect herself, entering the last stall as she then texted her chat. Simultaneously, she ordered a lyft, needing to get back to her apartment and off her feet immediately.

｡ ･ : * ˚ : ✧ ｡ ｡ ･ : * ˚ : ✧ ｡ ｡ ･ : * ˚ : ✧ ｡ ｡ ･ : * ˚ : ✧ ｡ ｡ ･ : * ˚ : ✧ ｡

Later on, Jey had gotten nicely settled in his hotel room after an eventful day. Seeing all the love and support from fans made his heart swell. He felt great appreciation for everyone that showed up, let alone gifting bracelets, birthday cards, and waffle house gift cards. One of the cards in particular, contained a phone number belonging to Bree.

His brain racked on which fan that was, as there were so many. Too many faces to try and decipher, or narrow down. So as he lay in bed he decided to just hit up the number and see.

Jey: This Bree?

###-###-####: Yea..who's this?

Jey: It's Jey

Bree: Wait really? srry can u send proof?

Bree: Just making sure

Jey: Gotchu

He recorded a quick vid of him in bed and sent it to her. She couldn't believe her eyes, it was definitely Jey Uso texting her.

Bree: Omgggg

Bree: I didn't think you'd use my number😭😭

Jey: You gave it to me for a reason lol

Jey: Send a pic and refresh my memory

Bree: [pic attached]

"Damn," Jey cursed to himself, instantly recalling that pretty face.

Jey: I remember you. What's yo age?

Bree: 21

Jey: Oh so you just got a babyface lol

Bree: Yeah I get that a lot😩

Jey: You pretty doe

Bree: Aww thanks🥰🥰

Jey: Whachu up to?

Bree: In bed, bored😔

Jey: Me too. You live here?

Bree: Yep! In harlem

Jey: I'm at the Hampton Inn

Jey: You tryna keep me company?

Bree was having a mini meltdown on her bed as she kicked her feet and squealed at the invite.

Bree: Oh? 😳 I'm down!

Jey: Bet. Lemme kno when you here, I'll come down to the lobby.

Oh hell yes she thought, while quickly ordering a lyft to the hotel.

Excited wasn't even the word as she looked over herself in her tall mirror. She was wearing a pink pj lounge set, choosing to cover up with an oversized hoodie. She then slipped her feet into her slides, grabbing her keys and phone before heading out.

｡ ･ : * ˚ : ✧ ｡ ｡ ･ : * ˚ : ✧ ｡ ｡ ･ : * ˚ : ✧ ｡ ｡ ･ : * ˚ : ✧ ｡ ｡ ･ : * ˚ : ✧ ｡

Bree couldn't fathom sharing a bed with her fav wrestler, but here she was sitting beside Jey in his hotel room.

Butterflies flooded her stomach as she sat criss-cross, fiddling with fingers while he lay back relaxed. He picked up on her timid demeanor, finding it cute as his lips curved into a grin.

"Oh you shy huh? Demure."

She busted out laughing, flipping her hair over her shoulder "not demureee.... but i'm really just nervous that's all. Like I was freaking out to my friends earlier after meeting you and now..." she trailed off, still in disbelief.

"Well I never been in my hotel room wit a fan, so this crazy for me too" he joked, easing the awkwardness. She giggled as he grabbed her arm, making her slightly jump as she looked at him.

"Lay down."

He didn't have to tell her twice, lying back as her head met the pillow.

"You not hot in that?" Jey nodded at her hoodie.

She was definitely burning up under the thick fabric, but still made an excuse "I have on pjs under..."

Jeys brow raised as he joked "what they ugly?"

She stifled a laugh, covering her hand "no."

He sucked his teeth, teasing her "you kno you hot as hell right now."

She bit her plump lip, nodding in confirmation as she sat up and stood to her feet. Heart pounding through her chest as she pulled the large hoodie up and over her body. She could hear Jey grunt "damn" as he saw her backside, cheeks peaking out her shorts that rode high.

After putting her hoodie in a chair by the window, she went back over to the bed as he shamelessly gazed at her big boobs in that top.

His eyes weren't discreet, flushing her face warm as she got on the bed and laid on her side.

"What? she quietly whined under his burning stare, big dilated orbs that pierced her soul. It was intimidating to be looked at like his next meal, even if she wanted to be.

"You kno you bad right?"

There was that depth again, making her thighs subconsciously press together as her kitty throbbed. But his attempt at complimenting her only produced a somber response.

"I been picked on about my weight tho" she mumbled, as his brows knitted.

Bree was full figured- thick all over with a pudgy stomach. Nothing to feel ashamed for.

"Fuck em, man or woman. Don't let nobody make you feel insecure. Be confident in yo self cause you damn sho bad" he reiterated strongly. His advice and encouraging words resonated in her soul as they shared eye contact. She gave a closed smile "thank you."

"You welcome." He then reached over and grasped her chin, inching their lips closer until they smashed together. Her eyes closed as they shared a sensual kiss, lips slowly grooving in harmony.

"Mmph" she moaned into his mouth as it parted to stick his tongue in hers.

As the kiss intensified with wet smacks and lament, Jey pulled away making her whine.

"Strip" he commanded, voice drenched in lust as he sat up and removed his white tee. She quickly followed, pulling off her long-sleeve top that was discarded on the floor. Next she unhooked her bra and let her big breasts spring free, making Jeys eyes pop.

"Damn" he grunted, moving atop her and meeting her lips once more. The kiss was more sloppy as he hooked her legs around his waist, grinding his hips into her clothed center. Her arms wrapped around his neck as he kissed along her neck.

"This whachu wanted huh? some of this dick? That's why you gave me yo number?"

"Y-yea" she admitted faintly.

"Can I eat that pussy first?" he asked while looking into her eyes. Her chest heaved with every languid breath, and she nodded. Before she knew it, her nipple was being vacuumed between his lips. She moaned as his large firm hands groped her massive flesh, his tongue licking around her boob with a insatiable hunger.

Her big orbs tried to stay focused on him loving on each breast, but the sensations forced her lids to flutter. It's like he was trying to clean a plate empty.

Her panties were definitely soaked, she couldn't have but leak.

She cradled the back of his head as his kisses traveled lower, and lower. His hands tugged her shorts down her legs, taking them off with a toss in the air. Her wet spot was visible as his lips formed a snarl.

"Gotchu wet already?" his tongue darted across his lips sexily, and her pink lace panties were swiftly snatched down. Once they were off, Jeys mouth watered at the sight of her fat pussy. Her juices gleamed off her puffy folds, and her clit was slightly larger.

"Shit" he cursed under his breath, licking his lips again as he pushed her knees up, making her legs bend. Bree gulped as his face was level with her heat. His fingers parted her slimy folds, seeing her wet hole clench around nothing as it dripped essence. His tongue licked a stripe up as she gasped at the introduction to his oral.

"Oh fuck!"

"I gotchu baby" he spoke against her flesh, slurping her up before french kissing her pussy.

a soft moan escaped Brees lips, as her eyes floated upward.

This was really happening, reality had long set in as Jey ate away at her sopping cunt. It wasn't some erotic dream, she was finally getting what she desired in her freaky mind.

"Oh!" her mouth dropped open as he sucked on her clit, tongue flickering against her sensitive bud. She sucked in a needy breath as he repeated the combo.

"Ahh fuck!" she gripped her titties as her back arched off the bed. "Mmm."

She sounded so angelic to him, a soft and delicate sound padding his ears as his wet smacks and slurps overtook them. He couldn't help but groan too as he enjoyed his full course meal.

He released her slick folds with a pop "mmph, this pussy good baby" diving back in with haste as she whimpered.

Her lips remained parted as her hazy eyes glazed at him going to work. Shuddered breaths escaped her plump, glossed, lips. Edging that had Jey pre-cumming in his shorts. Damn he wanted to eat her for hours, but he craved that deeper connection. She'd already came in his mouth as he cleaned her mostly dry, leaving some natural lubricant for his dick.

He lifted up and maneuvered his shorts off as he dick sprung free. Now spit pooled in her mouth at the sight of his meat, thick, long, and slightly curved.

The sight before her was godly. Jey was truly the finest man on earth, gifted too just like she hoped.

But that was going into her?

He caught a look of fear from her and chuckled, pushing her legs back as he gripped her thighs. His devilish smile exposed his bottom grill, canines that glistened under the light.

Fuck he was so fine.

"Thank you baby" he bent down, planting a kiss as she mumbled "wait you heard that?"

"Bree stop playin wit me, Im bout to be in yo shit, talk as nasty as you want."

She bit her lip at his tone, looking into his eyes as he then lined his head up with her slit before sliding in. His eyes briefly shut as he glided into her constricting walls "ugh fuck" he groaned.

"Damn this shit tight" he lamented as he eventually reached balls deep, his head nudging her g spot as she whined in response.

He placed their foreheads together as she caressed his broad shoulders "talk to me" kissing her "how you want it?"

She found the courage to say "h-hard."

Jeys lips tightened as he had the green light to beat her walls loose. Glad he wouldn't have to hold back, only problem was the walls were thin. He had to give her a warning before he went crazy, not knowing if she was a screamer or not. She looked like it to him.

"You gotta keep it down aiight?" he held his index finger to her lips as she nodded.

His hips lifted as he dragged his length out enough before slamming it back in and earning a yelp from Bree. He clamped a hand over her mouth, eyeing her as he repeated his actions again and again. Practically pounding her poor cunt with as much brute force as he could muster.

It hadn't even registered that he wasn't using a condom, but it felt so much better.

"Tight ass pussy, who else been in it huh? This shit mine now" he spat as her eyes rolled to the back of her head. Removing his hand he threw caution to the wind and let her moan loudly. They'd definitely get a noice complaint, but fuck it. The whole floor would hear his name.

"Uhn! Uhn!"

"Daddy deep in that shit?"

"Y-yea daddy!" she mewled with her eyes clamped shut.

"Look at me when im in my pussy" he demanded, she opened her lids and her heart swelled in her chest as they shared intense eye contact. He was starring into her soul where his dick probably was with each thrust. The feeling of pure ecstasy engulfed Bree in strong tidal waves, drowning her in lust.

Jey gave every stroke his all as he aggressively rutted his hips inward. His determination to break her in evident in his expression, bottom lip trapped between his teeth.

"Mmm-ahh-Jey!" her pouty lips produced a cry as a pit in her stomach formed.

"You bout to cum huh? I feel it...that pussy trappin me" he talked between heavy breaths as he observed her love faces.

As her soaked walls contracted around his dick, he expelled a rough groan in response. The pressure was building up in him too, as the veins along his length pulsated amongst the haste friction. She hadn't reached her climax yet, but he needed to pull out unless she wanted to pop a plan B in the morning.

"Hugh shit!- I gotta-" on the verge of nutting, he ripped his dick out before a drop could leak. Bree whined in response as Jeys hand speedily cranked his flesh. His mouth fell open as guttural sounds escaped his throat. Droplets of his white creamy seed spurted out onto her belly as he emptied himself. With a sigh of relief, his motions stopped as he hovered over her.

"My bad, ain let you cum" he apologized before kissing her, "come ride me tho" swiftly moving off her and onto his back for round 2.

Bree blinked a few times, oh lord she thought, glancing at him waiting.

He read her expression, hesitant and reluctant- providing a deep guarantee before she could speak. "Baby I'mma grown ass man, ain no weight limit I gotchu. Now come ride this dick" his fingers curled in motion.

Her pussy jumped at the infliction in his command, and she needed no more convincing. She sat up and crawled over, slinging one leg on either side on him as she hovered over his hardened dick. Her fingers grasped the tip as she lined it up with her opening. And as her body sunk, his dick slipped between her slit and into her walls eliciting a moan. In this position, she had no choice but to take all 8 inches of him until she reached the base.

She gasped at him filling her up, thick stuffing her tiny hole and expanding her walls. "Oh god" flipping her hair behind her shoulder, as her hands planted on his chest to brace.

"Bounce on that dick baby, get yo nut" Jey encouraged deeply as he watched her under brim eyes. A lustful slip of the tongue across his lips at the buss-worthy visual of her huge breasts, effortlessly jiggling. Big brown jugs, with large dark areolas and perky nipples of arousal. Practically a mouth-watering sight, saliva pooling, being slid down his throat with every gulp.

She took her time getting adjusted to his size, tediously rocking her hips back and forth. Jey was in no rush, enjoying the view with his hands underneath his head.

And damn was it a view.

She slightly leaned forward, an arch forming in her back as she began to bounce on his dick, ass being thrown in a circle. Pussy gliding up and down his pole, creating a stimulating friction.

"Uhn!...uuuhn!"

"Get that shit baby" he grunted, marveling at her boobs bouncing too. He couldn't help but seize them in his massive hands, fingers groping the flesh and toying with her nipple while she continuously moaned.

This encouraged her to ride harder, as she repeatedly lifted all the way to his tip, only to drop down. Her volume drastically increasing each time as Jey groaned under her.

"Keep doin that shit mama."

She feverishly rolled her hips, grabbing his wrists as she resumed her bouncing. Losing her mind on that dick.

"Like that daddy?"

"Just like that baby...fuck you ridin that dick so good" his brows furrowed, as his teeth pierced his bottom lip. Bending his legs some, he pulled her down against his chest as their lips collided in a sloppy kiss. His hands finally got a firm grip on her ass cheeks, as much of her mounds as his palms could hold. He guided her up and down his dick as he thrusted, with hips bucking up from the bed. He grouped her flesh in circles, delivering a couple sharp smacks to her ass that had her whining.

"All that ass baby" admiration laced in his tone, truly in awe at how stacked she was. It didn't make no sense.

Bree's head dropped into his neck as she whimpered, letting him take over with rough strokes that had her dizzy. His arms snaked around her waist, as he raised his knees even more, acquiring the perfect angle. He began to fuck her at a speedy pace, dick drumming though her walls so fast her breath got caught in her throat.

She squealed as his tip kept hitting her gspot with precision, running wasn't an option as his muscular arms entrapped her. And his rugged course drawls of immense pleasure filled her ears as she pleaded for mercy. Knots and coils from within threatening to unravel, she was so close, needing to cum hard.

"Cum on this dick baby, hurry up fo' I put one in you" he found himself begging desperately as he twitched inside her again.

"Okayy okayy" she cried before releasing all over him, her creamy essence coating his dick as he steadily pumped. The substance stringing along their skin as it separated, gooey-like.

It's like Jey didn't have control of his own body as he continued thrusting her in half, he was about to throw caution to the wind and nut inside her. That's how good the pussy was.

But somehow, he gathered enough self restraint at the last second, lifting her off his dick as his cum spurted out the head like a volcano.

With a hand stroking a mile a min, he emptied the rest of his nut, dripping onto his fingers.

"Gah damn" he panted, coming to a halt and releasing his dick as her ass lowered once more.

Only thing that could be heard for a couple minutes were shared breaths of exasperation. Their chests heaved in sync, indicative of the intense session.

Jey spoke up first "baby?" turning his head to see her eyes closed as she started to snooze off. His clean hand patted her butt as she whined and squirmed.

He chuckled into her ear "we gotta clean up, c'mon." Tapping her again as she finally lifted off him, with a mug that mad him snort.

"Aye quit muggin and go pee."

She did as told, scooting off the bed and limping to the bathroom. Jey shook his head at her ass swaying with every step. He then got off the bed and followed behind her.

After she did her business and washed her hands, he followed suit. They went back into the room, taking opposite sides of the bed as they slipped underneath the covers. Her back was facing him as she succumb to slumber. Jey smiled before reaching over to turn off the nightstand lamp. As darkness engulfed the space, he got comfortable on his back before falling asleep as well.

[baewritez]

Just A Little Touch Up (0)

( Aaron Pierre X Plus Size OC )

Summary : The black and white life of a makeup artist is given color by A-List Client

Tags : Work Place Romance , Age Gap , Plus Size OC , BDSM , 18 +

 How does one find themselves bent over a kitchen counter with their hands tied behind their back? Better yet how does one find themselves pent under one of the most beautiful men to grace my eyes?! But that is it; that is what holds the answer. If you were to ask how I ended up in this position, I would say it was an exchange of looks, eyes full of desires, wants, needs so pure like honey that you could almost taste its sweetness. His eyes, like crashing waves held me captive fixed in place while a smirk started to spread on his face. I want to be the next thing spread across those juicy pump lips, as if thunder rolled out his lips so confidently, he said “So do you know how long we are in hair and makeup for?” his voice piercing the darkest part of my desires leaving with a newfound longing.  

Strumming over my words “t-t-t-two hours I think” warm air filled the trailer blowing past him as he walked up the stairs closing the door as he stepped in. His cologne of warm nutmeg and patchouli oil filled the air as I fought the urge to take a deep breath. “Thanks, my assistant and manager won’t be on set til 9:00am so it’s just me and you.” Looking up at him I felt like a dwarf, and he was a skyscraper as he moved closer towards me. “Um that is okay I think I can be finished with your makeup before then. You can sit here.” I gestured with my hand to the black makeup chair in front of me. He held out his large hand towards me. “I am Aaron” I looked at the veins near his knuckles; my mouth started to water as I tried to swallow my thirst down. The image of his big hands grabbing my curly puff and pulling flashed in my mind. SLAPPING my hand down I took a step a back and smiled. My heartbeat was like an alarm in my ear at just the idea of being close to him set it into a frenzy. “Would you like a water or coffee?”  His hand slowly went back down to his side as confusion blossomed on his face, but he gently brushed off the interaction and exchange. As he started to get settled into the seat his bulky frame filled the space around me as I instinctively grabbed the counter behind me. A look of concern washed over his face as his handsome facial features scrunched up. Holding up both of his hands the white shirt and black leather jacket raised up to show his chiseled deep v leading to what I could only think was euphoria “I don’t bite, Love” his husky voice breaking the awkward silence. But all I wanted was for him to leave bite marks and hickeys where no one could see and even in places where they could be seen. I wanted him to show the world that I was his; but that was a fantasy. “So, water, right?” My voice trembled, as I started to break my gaze from his charcoal jeans as it now covered the valley of ecstasy. Slowly tracing up past his white v neck t-shirt into his hazelnut brown and storm cloud eyes taking in his clear and blemish free skin. “Water is perfect, Love.” he replies. Aaron moves his arm to rest of the side arm of the chair and he places his hand on chin and rests it on his full amber beard. Taking a deep breathe I turned to face the counter and mirror; I bent down opening the mini fridge to grab a cool bottle of water as a shiver ran down my spine. Coming up from the fridge I am stopped in my tracks as I glance into the mirror only to be frozen in time as Aaron’s eyes created a fire in his wake. I am the match, and he was setting me ablaze his eyes moving from legs to my ass gliding up like a feather. My palms start to form sweat beads became clammy. It’s as if I was rubbed up against a balloon the hair on my neck and arm stands small shocks pulse throughout my body. The sound of our heavy breathing and the humming of the ac unit filled my ears. He was my Hades making me his Persephone as his bottom lip is captured by his teeth. My mouth is left open the idea of his thick finger filling that emptiness sends another shiver down my spine and my body goes relax. The thud of the bottle snaps both of us out of drunken stupor.

** A/N : I hope i didn't keep you waiting too long. If you like the preview let me know. Welcome to BaeWritez where desire can be fulfilled. - XOXO BAE

[wierdblavk-girl]

Hallo, hope you are doing well! May I request Daniel Larusso s/o headcanons, he’s best boy in the franchise, in my opinion. Ty 🙏

A/n: thanks for wishing me well I took a break from writing to spend time with my siblings before they had to go back to school I hope you enjoy this

A/n: this is my first time writing about Daniel be nice

Daniel Larusso boyfriend headcanons

*When I tell you this boy is so sweet he’s so sweet

*The type to message your feet when you tell him they’re tired

*He invites you to dinner every night

*His mom loves you she think you’re perfect for Daniel

* Would be the type of guy to buy you tampons/pads without trouble

* You sleep over a lot at his house but you can’t sleep in the same bed or his mom will kill him

* He definitely likes to put his arm around you all the time it’s just so comforting

* He likes to twirl his finger around one your tight coils/ loose curls it doesn’t matter he’ll just love to be close to you

* 1000% a lover boy he’s planning y’all wedding in his head

After you guys fight he might be a little upset but when he goes to his mom or Mr Miyagi he’ll apologize

That being said arguments will probably be a once in a blue moon because Daniel compromises

Overall 10/10 boyfriend experience

[hookhausenschips]

can I request some of the drivers dating a girl who isn’t afraid to clap back and go just as low as the fans? I love a messy girl like us😂

Clock It

Navigation

Warnings: Clapbacks, fans being disrespectful, curse words

• you DO NOT have my permission to copy my work, upload as your own, translate, or repost on any other website •

Drivers: Lando, Carlos, Oscar, Charles, Max, and Franco

Lando Norris – Paddock Tension

The sun gleams off the circuit at Silverstone, reflecting the high-stakes energy that fills the paddock. The roar of the crowd, the sound of engines revving, and the shimmering excitement of race day are in full swing. Lando Norris, a rising star in Formula 1, walks confidently through the paddock. His girlfriend, Y/N, strolls beside him, equally unfazed by the buzzing attention they attract. Dressed in a striking McLaren orange jumpsuit that hugs her frame perfectly, Y/N commands just as much attention as Lando, if not more. Her calm demeanor contrasts the excitement around them as they head toward the McLaren garage.

It’s not the first time the couple has walked hand-in-hand through the chaos of race day. They’ve grown accustomed to the stares, the whispers, and the buzzing cameras. Y/N had learned to navigate the complexities of being in the public eye, especially alongside a high-profile figure like Lando. Today, however, feels different—the attention is sharper, more intense. Lando senses it too, and as they pass a row of fans, the energy shifts.

“Lando! Lando, over here!” A woman’s voice rises above the usual cacophony of the crowd. At first, it’s a simple call for an autograph, but then it turns ugly. “Ditch the gold digger! You deserve someone who cares about you, not your money!”

The words slice through the air, sharp and cruel, turning the heads of those nearby. Y/N stops dead in her tracks, her confident smile evaporating as she scans the crowd. Lando feels her hand tense in his, his own expression darkening as he tries to pull her away, but it’s too late. Y/N isn’t the type to back down.

With an air of unshakable calm, Y/N strides toward the group, her energy radiating fierce confidence. She stands tall, her head high, and her eyes narrowed on the woman who dared to shout the insult. Y/N’s movements are measured, her anger controlled, but it’s clear to anyone watching that she is not going to let this slide.

“Excuse me?” Y/N’s voice cuts through the noise with a biting edge, each word deliberate. “What was that?”

The woman falters under Y/N’s piercing gaze. Her bravado seems to waver now that she’s face-to-face with her target. She looks to her friends for support, but they stay silent, wide-eyed and nervous.

“You heard me,” the woman stammers, attempting to reclaim her footing. “He could do better than you.” The words, though repeated, now sound hollow.

Y/N takes off her sunglasses slowly, her expression unyielding as she steps closer. “Better?” she echoes, her voice dripping with sarcasm. “Sweetheart, better would be me not wasting my time here educating you. But since I’m feeling generous today, let’s clear a few things up. You see, I’ve got my own. I’m not here for his money—maybe you should Google me sometime, yeah?”

The woman’s confidence crumbles under Y/N’s steady, unflinching gaze. She shifts awkwardly on her feet, muttering something unintelligible. Lando, still holding Y/N’s hand, leans down slightly, his voice gentle as he whispers, “Come on, babe. Let’s go.”

But Y/N isn’t done yet. She holds the woman’s gaze for a beat longer, ensuring her message is crystal clear before slipping her sunglasses back on. “Next time, say it with your chest,” she tosses over her shoulder as she turns away, her stride purposeful and unfazed.

As they walk away, Lando struggles to suppress a grin, his admiration for Y/N shining through. “You didn’t have to do all that,” he teases lightly, though the pride in his voice is unmistakable.

“Oh, I absolutely did,” Y/N responds, her tone unyielding. “People think they can talk trash without facing any consequences. Not today.” She tosses her hair over her shoulder with a smirk, her confidence unwavering.

Lando laughs softly, shaking his head in admiration. “Remind me never to get on your bad side.”

Y/N winks at him playfully. “Smart man,” she replies, the tension already evaporating as they step into the McLaren garage.

Inside, the hum of mechanics working on cars and the murmur of the team greet them. The air is thick with concentration, but Lando and Y/N slip seamlessly into the controlled chaos. The earlier confrontation feels like a distant memory now, drowned out by the electric energy of race day. But as Lando prepares for his upcoming session, he can’t help but glance at Y/N, his respect for her fierceness only growing.

Y/N knows that being in a relationship with someone like Lando comes with its challenges. The scrutiny, the whispers, the constant questioning of her motives—it’s a regular part of her life now. But she’s never been one to shrink in the face of adversity. Instead, she meets it head-on, confident in her worth and her place by Lando’s side. The people who criticize from the sidelines, hiding behind their assumptions and their envy, don’t know her. And frankly, she doesn’t care what they think.

As Lando climbs into his race suit and prepares to join his team, Y/N settles into a chair nearby, scrolling through her phone as if nothing had happened. She’s already moved on, her mind focused on supporting Lando through his race. If the incident from earlier affected her, she doesn’t show it. That’s the thing about Y/N—she doesn’t let the negativity stick. It’s just noise, easily silenced.

When Lando finally steps out onto the track, Y/N watches with a quiet sense of pride. She knows the pressure he’s under, the expectations from the team, the fans, and the sport itself. But she also knows that he’s more than capable of rising to the occasion, just as she is capable of standing strong beside him. Together, they form a team, one that’s unshakable in the face of external doubt.

The race continues, and as the sun begins to set over the Monaco circuit, Y/N’s earlier confrontation seems insignificant in the grand scheme of things. Her confidence, her unwavering belief in herself and in her relationship with Lando, remains unchallenged. And as they leave the paddock hand-in-hand once more, the noise of the crowd fades behind them, leaving only the quiet assurance that they are stronger together than anyone could ever understand.

In this world of fast cars, fast fame, and fast judgments, Y/N knows exactly who she is. And more importantly, she knows exactly where she stands—with Lando, confidently, unshaken, and unapologetically herself.

Carlos Sainz – Vacation in the Maldives

The Maldives is a paradise, a perfect blend of turquoise waters, white sandy beaches, and luxurious resorts that seem to float on the edge of the world. For Carlos Sainz and Y/N, it is the perfect escape from the relentless pace of the Formula 1 circuit. After months of intense competition, the constant travel, and the high-octane energy of the paddock, they have finally carved out time for themselves, away from the noise and pressure of the sport.

Y/N is lounging on a deck chair, her tropical-print dress fluttering softly in the warm breeze. She tilts her head back, the sun warming her skin, and sips from a colorful cocktail as the gentle sound of the ocean waves laps at the shore just a few meters away. Beside her, Carlos is reading a travel magazine, his sunglasses perched on his nose, looking every bit the relaxed vacationer. The two of them are a picture of tranquility, far removed from the intense world they usually inhabit.

“This is heaven,” Y/N sighs contentedly, setting her drink down on the small table beside her. “I could stay here forever.”

Carlos smiles, glancing over the top of his magazine at her. “You say that now, but give it a week, and you’ll be itching to get back to the excitement.”

Y/N laughs softly, nodding. “Okay, maybe not forever. But I’m definitely not ready to leave yet.”

As the conversation lulls, Y/N picks up her phone, scrolling through the latest social media updates. It’s habit, something she does without thinking—checking in on the outside world, even while trying to escape it. She swipes through a few photos of their trip, the beautiful views, the serene beaches, and then lands on a picture she posted earlier in the day—a candid shot of her and Carlos laughing, his arm draped casually around her shoulders as they explored the island. The photo had racked up thousands of likes and comments, most of them positive, celebrating the couple’s obvious happiness.

But one comment, in particular, catches Y/N’s eye.

“She’s so loud and extra. Carlos deserves someone more refined, not some wannabe trying to get attention.”

Y/N’s good mood dissipates in an instant, her relaxed posture stiffening as she reads the words again. The audacity of it, the arrogance in assuming they know what Carlos deserves, sets her blood boiling. She clenches her jaw, sitting up straighter in her chair.

“Oh, hell no,” she mutters, her fingers already moving to respond.

Carlos looks up, sensing the shift in her mood. “What’s wrong?” he asks, concern flickering in his eyes.

Without a word, Y/N hands him the phone, the offending comment glaring up at him from the screen. Carlos reads it, his brows furrowing slightly, but then he shakes his head with a soft chuckle.

“It’s not worth it, amor,” he says, handing the phone back to her. “They’re just jealous. We don’t need to give them attention.”

But Y/N isn’t having it. “Oh, no. This one deserves a personal response,” she insists, already typing furiously.

Carlos watches with a bemused expression as Y/N taps out her reply: “‘Loud and extra’ keeps him happy, especially earlier this morning in our bed, so maybe focus on making yourself interesting before you come for me. Ciao.”

She hits send with a satisfied smirk, leaning back in her chair as she watches the comment thread blow up with reactions. Carlos lets out a low laugh, shaking his head as he watches her.

“You’re ruthless,” he remarks, amusement clear in his voice. “They don’t stand a chance.”

Y/N grins, taking a long sip from her cocktail. “Damn right they don’t,” she replies confidently. “I’m not the one to come for if you don’t want the smoke.”

Carlos reaches out, taking her hand and pulling her closer to him. “That’s one of the reasons I love you,” he says softly, pressing a kiss to the top of her hand. “You never back down.”

Y/N smiles at him, her earlier frustration melting away in the warmth of his affection. “And you better remember that when someone tries to come for you,” she warns playfully. “I’ve always got your back.”

Carlos chuckles, his thumb gently brushing over her knuckles. “I know you do,” he replies sincerely. “And I’ve always got yours.”

They fall into a comfortable silence, the sound of the waves and the rustling palm trees providing the perfect backdrop for their quiet moment of connection. It’s in these moments, away from the pressures of the public eye and the constant scrutiny of the media, that Y/N and Carlos can truly be themselves. There’s no need for pretenses, no need to play the roles that the world expects of them. Here, they are simply Carlos and Y/N—two people deeply in love, enjoying the rare luxury of time alone together.

But even in paradise, the shadows of their public lives can creep in, as Y/N was reminded today. It’s not the first time she’s had to deal with online trolls, and it certainly won’t be the last. Being with Carlos, a high-profile athlete constantly in the spotlight, comes with its fair share of challenges. People always have opinions—about her, about them, about what their relationship should look like. But Y/N has never been one to let those opinions affect her. She knows her worth, and she knows that Carlos loves her for exactly who she is.

The rest of the day passes in a blissful haze of sunshine, laughter, and the occasional playful banter. They stroll along the beach, hand-in-hand, the soft sand warm beneath their feet. They swim in the crystal-clear waters, teasing each other and splashing like children. And as the sun begins to set, painting the sky in shades of pink and orange, they sit on the edge of the infinity pool, watching the horizon together.

Later, as they return to their villa, the night air cool and soothing, Y/N checks her phone again. The comment she responded to earlier has blown up, with hundreds of replies supporting her clapback and laughing at the original troll. She smiles to herself, feeling a sense of satisfaction. It’s not about winning internet arguments—it’s about standing up for herself and for her relationship. And in this world of constant judgment and scrutiny, that’s something Y/N will never shy away from.

As they climb into bed, Carlos pulls her close, his arm draped around her waist as they settle into the comforting quiet of the night. Y/N rests her head on his chest, listening to the steady rhythm of his heartbeat.

“You were right earlier,” Carlos murmurs, his voice low and soft in the darkness.

“About what?” Y/N asks, her eyes already drifting shut.

“That you’re loud and extra,” he teases gently. “And that’s exactly how I like it.”

Y/N laughs softly, too content to argue. “Good,” she replies sleepily. “Because I’m not changing anytime soon.”

Carlos kisses the top of her head, his lips lingering against her hair. “I wouldn’t want you to.”

And with that, they drift off to sleep, the world outside their little paradise fading away, if only for a while.

Oscar Piastri – Monaco Grand Prix Weekend

The streets of Monte Carlo are alive with the thrilling atmosphere of the Monaco Grand Prix weekend. Fans from all over the world flood the narrow streets, hoping to catch a glimpse of their favorite drivers as the city buzzes with excitement. This is the pinnacle of glamour and adrenaline—fast cars racing through historic streets, the Mediterranean Sea gleaming in the background, and celebrities rubbing shoulders with the elite of motorsport.

Oscar Piastri and Y/N walk through the heart of it all, navigating the winding streets of Monaco like seasoned veterans. Oscar, the young F1 sensation, wears the casual confidence of someone who’s already made a name for himself in the sport, despite his relative newness to the Formula 1 scene. By his side, Y/N exudes confidence and grace, dressed in a sleek, black jumpsuit that hugs her frame and commands attention. Her presence complements Oscar’s calm demeanor, making them a striking pair as they stroll through the city.

The couple is stopped every few steps by fans eager for autographs and photos, and Oscar obliges with his trademark humility and charm. Y/N stands by his side, smiling at the supporters and making small talk with those brave enough to engage her. For the most part, the day feels perfect—Monaco’s luxurious aura surrounds them, and the thrill of the upcoming race is palpable in the air.

But in every crowd, there are always a few who can’t help but whisper. Y/N is used to it by now—the hushed judgments, the sneers, the people who think they know more about her than they actually do. Today, though, it seems louder, sharper. A group of women nearby, decked out in expensive sunglasses and trendy outfits, aren’t as discreet as they think they are. Their words carry over the noise of the crowd, clear enough for Y/N to catch every single one.

“Look at her, acting like she belongs here,” one of the women says, her voice dripping with disdain. “She’s only with him for the status. You can tell she’s not a part of this world.”

The comments hit Y/N like a slap in the face. Her blood boils instantly, and she can feel the anger bubbling beneath her calm exterior. The temptation to ignore them flickers for a brief second, but Y/N quickly realizes that’s not an option today. She’s not the kind of person to let things slide, especially when someone questions her place next to Oscar. After all, she knows exactly who she is and why she’s there—and it certainly has nothing to do with fame or fortune.

Oscar, engrossed in signing autographs, doesn’t notice the shift in Y/N’s demeanor at first. She gently pulls her arm away from his for a moment, her movements deliberate as she turns to face the group of women. Her back straightens, and she walks toward them with an air of confidence that silences their giggles.

“Do you have something to say to me?” Y/N’s voice is sharp and direct, her words cutting through the murmur of the crowd like a knife. The women freeze, their laughter dying instantly as they realize Y/N has heard every word. “Or do you always talk behind people’s backs like that?”

Caught off guard, the women glance at each other, suddenly unsure of themselves. They hadn’t expected Y/N to confront them so boldly.

“Uh… no, we were just saying…” one of them starts, but Y/N cuts her off with an icy look.

“There’s no need to whisper,” Y/N says firmly, her gaze unyielding. “If you’ve got something to say, be bold enough to say it to me directly.” She pauses for effect, her voice lowering with a dangerous edge. “Because trust me, I belong wherever I choose to be.”

Her words hang in the air, and for a moment, it feels as if time stands still. The women are visibly uncomfortable now, fidgeting with their bags and sunglasses, clearly out of their depth. They mumble incoherent apologies before awkwardly shuffling off, leaving Y/N standing tall, her head held high.

Satisfied, Y/N turns back to rejoin Oscar just as he finishes signing the last autograph. He glances at her, a curious look on his face. “What was that about?” he asks, raising an eyebrow.

Y/N shrugs, slipping her arm through his with a casual smile. “Just some clueless women talking nonsense,” she replies, her voice light but firm. “They learned today.”

Oscar chuckles softly, clearly impressed by her resolve. “You didn’t have to say anything, you know.”

“Oh, but I did,” Y/N replies, her tone leaving no room for doubt. “People think they can say whatever they want without consequences. Not with me around.”

Oscar laughs, shaking his head in admiration. “Well, remind me never to introduce you to Twitter. They wouldn’t survive.”

Y/N flashes him a playful grin, her earlier frustration melting away. “I’d break the internet.”

They continue their walk through the streets of Monaco, arm-in-arm, their connection stronger than ever. Y/N’s heart swells with pride, not just for standing up for herself, but for the unwavering support she feels from Oscar. He never questions her worth, never doubts her intentions—and that’s all that matters.

The whispers, the judgments, the petty comments—they are just noise in the background of their relationship. Y/N knows that as long as she and Oscar are solid, nothing else matters. And as they make their way through the glamorous chaos of the Monaco Grand Prix weekend, Y/N feels more confident than ever in her place by his side.

Charles Leclerc – Traveling in Italy

The warm, golden hues of the Italian countryside create a picturesque backdrop as Charles Leclerc and Y/N sit at a small, rustic restaurant tucked away from the tourist-heavy streets. The charming, intimate atmosphere is perfect for a romantic evening, and the scent of fresh pasta and wine fills the air. Earlier in the day, they had explored vineyards, tasting some of the finest wines the region had to offer, and now they’re relaxing, enjoying the peace that comes with being away from the F1 spotlight.

Y/N scrolls through the photos on her phone, smiling at the memories they’ve made today—Charles grinning with a glass of wine in hand, the two of them laughing together under the Tuscan sun, the beautiful vineyards stretching out for miles. It’s been the perfect day, and Y/N feels content, her heart full as she glances over at Charles, who is busy browsing the menu with a thoughtful expression.

But as she continues scrolling, a new notification pops up, and her playful mood instantly sours. A comment on her latest Instagram post catches her attention: “She’s way too flashy for Charles. He deserves someone more understated, not someone who’s just after attention.”

Y/N feels her stomach drop, the familiar sting of online criticism hitting her hard. It’s not the first time she’s been on the receiving end of such comments, but that doesn’t make it any easier to brush off. She clenches her jaw, her grip tightening on the phone as she reads the words again, the implication clear: she’s not good enough for Charles.

“You’ve got to be kidding me,” Y/N mutters under her breath, her earlier happiness replaced by a growing anger. She turns her phone around, showing Charles the comment.

Charles looks up from the menu, his brow furrowing as he reads the words on the screen. He sighs softly, shaking his head in disbelief. “Ignore them, chérie,” he says gently, reaching for her hand across the table. “People like that don’t know us.”

Y/N exhales slowly, but she’s not the type to let something like this slide. “Oh, I’m not ignoring this,” she says, her voice firm as she starts typing out a response.

Charles watches her, his expression a mixture of amusement and admiration as she types furiously on her phone. Within moments, she’s crafted her reply: “Fitting into your world? Honey, I am the world, and Charles knows that. Stay mad.”

Satisfied, Y/N hits send, leaning back in her chair with a smug smile. “There,” she says, her tone triumphant. “That should shut them up.”

Charles chuckles softly, his fingers gently brushing over hers. “You really don’t let anything slide, do you?”

“Nope,” Y/N replies confidently. “People think they can say whatever they want because they’re hiding behind a screen. They need to learn that I’m not the one to mess with.”

Charles’s lips curl into a fond smile as he squeezes her hand affectionately. “And that’s one of the things I love about you,” he says softly, his voice full of sincerity. “You never hold back.”

Y/N grins, feeling her mood lighten under his warm gaze. “Damn right,” she replies, her confidence fully restored. “Besides, someone’s got to remind them who they’re dealing with.”

Charles nods, clearly proud of her. “They’ll learn soon enough,” he says, his tone filled with quiet amusement.

As they return to their meal, the soft murmur of other diners around them, Y/N feels the tension in her shoulders slowly fade away. The comment, as hurtful as it had been, is now just a distant memory. It’s moments like these—sitting across from Charles, holding his hand, sharing a quiet evening in one of the most beautiful places in the world—that remind her of what really matters.

Charles has never doubted her, and she’s never doubted him. Their relationship is built on trust, respect, and love—something no online troll or judgmental comment can ever shake. And as long as they have that, Y/N knows she’ll always have the upper hand when it comes to dealing with the haters.

Later that night, as they stroll through the cobblestone streets hand-in-hand, the warm Italian breeze caressing their skin, Y/N leans into Charles, feeling the steady rhythm of his heartbeat beneath her hand.

“You know,” Y/N begins with a smirk, glancing up at him. “If you ever want me to clap back at anyone for you, I’m always available.”

Charles laughs, the sound rich and genuine as he pulls her closer. “I don’t doubt that for a second, chérie,” he replies, pressing a kiss to her forehead. “But I think you’ve got it covered enough for both of us.”

Y/N laughs along with him, the earlier frustrations of the day long gone as they continue walking together through the beautiful Italian night, content in the knowledge that they have each other’s backs—no matter what the world throws at them.

Max Verstappen – Private Yacht in Monaco

The luxury yacht bobs gently on the crystal-clear waters of the Mediterranean as the sun dips toward the horizon, casting a golden glow over everything. The sound of waves lapping against the boat and the distant hum of Monaco’s nightlife creates a tranquil backdrop for Max Verstappen and Y/N as they relax on the deck, soaking in the beauty of the evening.

Y/N, reclining on a lounge chair in a chic swimsuit and oversized sunglasses, looks every bit the picture of calm and confidence as she scrolls through her phone. Max, sitting beside her with a cold drink in hand, glances over at her occasionally, a small smile tugging at the corners of his mouth. It’s rare for them to have moments like this—quiet, private, away from the chaos of the F1 world—and they’re both savoring it.

But their peaceful evening is interrupted when Y/N’s phone pings with a new notification. She sighs softly, her serene expression darkening as she reads the message.

“You’ll never be good enough for Max. He’s a world champion, and you’re just here for the ride.”

Y/N’s lips curl into a mocking smile as she reads the comment again. The nerve of some people, she thinks, her annoyance growing with each passing second. It’s one thing to criticize her, but to insinuate that she doesn’t deserve to be with Max? That’s a line she’s not willing to let slide.

She turns her phone toward Max, showing him the message. “Look at this,” she says, her voice laced with sarcasm.

Max scans the screen, his expression unbothered as he rolls his eyes. “People always think they know everything,” he says with a dismissive shake of his head. “It’s not worth your time.”

“Oh, but this one chose the right day to try me,” Y/N replies, sitting up and quickly typing out a response.

Max watches her, his eyes glinting with amusement as Y/N types: “Good enough? Honey, Max isn’t the prize here—I am. You don’t even have the nerve to put a profile pic up, so maybe worry about your own lane.”

She hits send with a satisfied grin, leaning back in her chair as she watches the comment thread explode with reactions. Max chuckles, clearly entertained by her fiery response.

“You really don’t hold back, do you?” he says, his tone affectionate.

Y/N shrugs, slipping her sunglasses back on as she relaxes against the cushions. “Why would I? People think they can say whatever they want just because you’re in the spotlight. They need to be reminded that I won’t let them walk all over me.”

Max leans over, pressing a kiss to her cheek. “That’s why I love you,” he murmurs against her skin. “You’ve always got that fire.”

“Damn right,” Y/N replies, her confidence unwavering. “Besides, I don’t need anyone to tell me what’s good enough for you. We already know the truth.”

Max smiles, pulling her closer as they both settle back into the warmth of the setting sun. He knows that Y/N is more than capable of handling herself—whether it’s dealing with online trolls or navigating the pressures of being in a high-profile relationship. She’s strong, confident, and unapologetically herself, and that’s exactly why he loves her.

As the yacht gently rocks on the waves and the lights of Monaco begin to twinkle in the distance, Max and Y/N enjoy the peace of the evening, content in the knowledge that nothing—and no one—can shake their bond.

Franco Colapinto – Backstage at a Press Event

The backstage area of the press event is bustling with energy as drivers, media personnel, and team members prepare for the upcoming Formula 1 season. The air is thick with excitement, the hum of cameras and the chatter of journalists filling the space. Franco Colapinto stands front and center, answering questions with the ease of a seasoned professional, his charming smile never wavering despite the rapid-fire interviews.

Y/N stands off to the side, watching him with a sense of pride and admiration looking stunning as always. She’s seen Franco grow into his role as a driver, handling the pressure with grace and poise, and it’s moments like this that remind her of why she fell in love with him in the first place. Some fans nearby snap pictures, but a few nasty comments about Y/N quickly make their way online.

But as she scrolls through her phone, her attention is quickly drawn to a notification that sours her mood.

“She’s too aggressive, too much attitude. Franco deserves someone sweeter, not someone who’s always so loud and in your face.”

Y/N’s eyes narrow as she reads the comment, her fingers already flying across her keyboard as she types a response.

“Aggressive? Seriously?” she mutters under her breath. “Aggressive? You mean confident, right? And let’s not pretend you know what Franco deserves, because I guarantee you don’t.”

She hits send with a sharp exhale, the satisfaction of clapping back quickly replacing her earlier annoyance. Just as she finishes, Franco wraps up his interview and walks over to her, his smile widening as he approaches.

“What’s going on?” he asks, noticing the intensity in her expression.

“Just clapping back at some clueless fans,” Y/N replies, her tone casual but firm. “Nothing new.”

Franco raises an eyebrow, his smile softening as he takes her hand. “You’re always ready for a fight, aren’t you?”

Y/N laughs, leaning into him as he pulls her closer. “If they come for me, they better be ready. It’s just who I am.”

Franco presses a kiss to her forehead, his admiration for her clear in the way he looks at her. “And that’s exactly why I love you.”

Y/N smiles up at him, her earlier frustration already forgotten. With Franco by her side, she knows she can handle anything the world throws at her—whether it’s the pressure of being in the public eye or the opinions of people who think they know her.

Together, they’re unstoppable.

F1 Taglist: @tallrock35, @yourbane, @hiireadstuff, @really-fucking-tired, @evie-119, @donteventry-itdude, @spookystitchery, @dhanihamidi, @decafmickey, @cmleitora, @d3kstar, @mellowluka, @ysnhua, @omgsuperstarg, @qxeenjen

F1 Grid Taglist: @esserenorris, @tallrock35, @lightdragonrayne, @evie-119, @donteventry-itdude, @dhanihamidi, @xoscar03, @miarabanana, @decafmickey, @icecoldtires, @evesfile, @ysnhua, @mellowluka, @bdreamalot99, @qxeenjen

[theereina]

Buy Her Books📚 and Eat Her Pussy🐈

Pairing: Erik "Killmonger" Stevens x Plus Size Fem Black!OC

Wordcount: +1.9K

Warnings: MDNI (18+) mature content, such as cursing, teasing, heavily dialogue-centered, use of Daddy, Mama, and other pet names (lil' mama, pretty girl, good boy, etc.), oral (female receiving), spanking, Dom!Erik, orgasm denial, pure filth

A/N¹: This is a single one-shot with no planned sequels.

A/N²: I'm open to critiques. I am a little 🤏🏽 sensitive about my writing. Please, don't be too harsh.🥺 Feel free to bring my attention to any typos. Divider by @firefly-graphics. Also, this work is not to be plagiarized or reposted (on any site other than here on Tumblr). I do NOT give consent for any form of republishing or rewriting.

Masterlist: 🔥🔥🔥

Of course, Erik didn't know the monster he created. Last night, he had given his girlfriend Amelia his credit card and told her to buy her books. Amelia was immediately struck by decision fatigue. Her TBR list was well over 100 books at this point. When she whined about not knowing what books to choose, Erik told her to buy them ALL. Amelia initially laughed at Erik, not taking a word he said seriously; however, the look he gave her let her know he was beyond serious.

He had given her the card the night before. She sat up all night anxiously going through her TBR. She narrowed the list to 52 must-haves and 67 maybes, not including the 34 she deleted after reading the recent reviews.

Amelia had spent all morning in her favorite local bookstores and Barnes & Noble. She became flustered once she started realizing how much she would be paying. So, she called Erik and asked for his “approval” again. He responded with a laugh and comment about letting her do it again. This had Amelia excited at the thought.

While in the stores, she would first search for the books on her must-haves. Then, she would look for the maybes. She would scan over the synopsis and maybe the first page before deciding. She did this same routine in every store she went into.

After such a strenuous morning, Amelia was exhausted but excited upon returning home. She knew exactly the book she wanted to read first. She had showered and changed back into her nightgown. She climbed onto the bed and searched through the hoard of books. Amelia had tried her best to keep the books separated by genre to help her sort them.

There it was— a book she had wanted since its release five months ago. Amelia was back in her happy place as she lay on her tummy across Erik's bed, facing the headboard. She held the book and began kicking her feet in bliss. She opened the book and began to read the prologue before remembering that she didn't want any distractions. She grabbed her phone and placed it on DND. Tossing her phone somewhere behind her, she began to read again.

4 hours later

Unbeknownst to Amelia, hours had passed. Many hours. Her phone was still on DND, so she was unaware of Erik's 13 missed calls and 8 unread text messages. Unfortunately, she also didn't know he was on his way home.

As Amelia lay reading, Erik arrived at his home. He was pissed. Amelia had ignored him all day. He was a little paranoid about these kinds of situations considering the life he lived before meeting her.

Erik unlocked the door quietly checking for any signs of forced entry. He slowly crept through the house. As he approached the back rooms, the only light visible was coming from under his bedroom door. He could hear what sounded like Amelia laughing, but he was too unsure. He unsheathed his Glock and held it in his hands. As he inched closer to the door, he quieted his steps. Putting his stealth skills to use, he leaned against the door using the weight of his body to stop it from creaking as he opened it.

Awaiting him was an exhausted Amelia. She was facing away from him still completely unaware of his presence. He had always told her she had the self-awareness of a toddler.

He slowly placed his gun into his waistband. Trying his hardest not to startle or alert her to his presence, he crept up to the foot of the bed. He grabbed Amelia's left foot and dragged her to the edge of the bed. “Princess!” Erik says flipping Amelia over onto her back causing the book to slip from her hands. “Erik!” she screamed. She was still unsure how this man could toss her around so easily.

“Busy?” he asked folding his arms across his chest. “Umm…,” Amelia said sitting on her knees at the edge of the bed. She leaned up to give Erik an apologetic kiss. “Where's your phone?” he asked uncrossing his arms.

Amelia turned around and began searching for the phone in the bed. Piles of books were everywhere— an assortment of thrillers, romance, erotica, mystery, fantasy, and more. She knew it was there somewhere. She found it and looked at the screen. 13 missed calls and 8 unread text messages from “Daddy😈”. She turned back around to see Erik cracking his knuckles.

Uh oh

“So, you were reading all day? Is that why you were ignoring me, baby girl?” Erik said caressing her cheek. “Yes, I'm sorry. I didn't mean to. I just really…” she said putting her hands on his shoulders. “That's unacceptable, and you know that,” he said putting his right hand on the side of her neck. He used his thumb to stroke over the front of her throat., teasing her. Amelia swallowed because she knew what was coming— a punishment fit for his princess.

Erik stood there staring at Amelia's throat. “Where's the book you were just reading?” Erik asked stilling his movements. She pointed behind her to the only opened book on the bed. She was growing anxious by the second. Amelia began to whimper in desperation, trying to craft a scheme to escape this.

Erik's eyes shot up to meet Amelia's now brimming with tears. “Amelia, baby?” Erik lulled. “Yes, Daddy?” she asked hoping this would absolve her of her discretions. Considering that it was an honest mistake, she hoped he would be lenient. “Shut that shit up,” he said in the most level tone. He didn't raise his voice a decibel, but Amelia knew.

“Since you wanna read so much, read to me. I wanna see what's got you so distracted,” Erik said leaning over grabbing the book and handing it to Amelia.

4 orgasms denials later

Amelia was fighting for her life. Erik was eating her out from the back and forcing her to read the book aloud simultaneously. Every time she slipped up or stopped he lit her ass up like a Christmas tree.

His tongue sliding up and down her folds over and over again was driving her insane. She continued to read while breathing out ragged breaths. He was positioned right behind her on the bed. His tongue was warm and slick from her juices.

Erik leaned up and sat directly between her legs. He used his arms to flip Amelia over onto her back in one swift move. She yelled out in shock. Amelia looked down pleading to Erik with her eyes. He scoffed at her attempt to use her puppy dog eyes against him. He sat back and looked at Amelia's sloppy pussy and swollen clit. He took his hand and slid it up and down her slit, coating his fingers in her cum.

He brought his hand to his mouth and began to suck on his fingers. Amelia stopped to stare at Erik in awe. Without even losing focus on his task at hand, he used his other hand to smack Amelia's already swollen clit. “I didn't tell you to stop!” he barked while removing his fingers from his mouth. Amelia tried to continue reading but could feel Erik shifting between her legs.

Amelia turned the page and peeked under the book. She could see Erik's hand lining up with her pussy again. She felt his middle and index fingers slide into her wet pussy with a squelch. She moaned out and clenched her pussy around his fingers. He began to drive his fingers upward against her g-spot. He was merciless while fingerfucking her.

She started stuttering and closed her eyes too caught up in bliss. Erik used his free hand to smack the outside of her thigh. The sound echoed through the room. The thickness of her thighs provided no cushion for the blows he was dishing out. If anything, it was giving him more to work with. Her ass was already obliterated— red, swollen, and covered in welts.

They had been at this for almost an hour because of how well he was dragging out his teasing. She was tired of being denied but knew she held no power in this situation. All she could do was take it.

He leaned over Amelia's body pushing her knees up to her chest. How did he expect her to read like this?

His fingers were still punishing her pussy. He looked at Amelia and began to speak, “I don't hear you!” Amelia tried to read, but she felt like her voice was strained. The way he had her folded in half with his body holding her legs and thighs in place was making it hard to breathe. “Daddy, please. I can't…,” she whined out. “You can, and you fuckin' will. Do you hear me?” Erik said slowing his fingers down inside of her. He knew Amelia's weakness— slow strokes and deep pokes. He was using his fingers to massage her insides. He was kneading her pussy like dough.

Erik's heavy breathing was overshadowed by the sounds of Amelia's moans and her pussy squelching. It sounded like someone was flicking their fingers under a running faucet. Amelia dropped the book on her stomach, and Erik's hand instantly smacked her thigh twice. “Pick…it…the…fuck…up!!!” Erik growled through gritted teeth.

Amelia reached for the book. She tried her best to continue to read as Erik's fingers drove her insane. Erik lifted her left leg and pushed it back against her chest. He angled his body so that he was slightly to the side of Amelia's body. He leaned over and began to suck her clit while continuing to finger her pussy.

The words were leaving her mouth, but she wasn't attempting to comprehend or remember what she read. Erik removed his fingers and replaced them with his tongue. He moved so that his face was right between Amelia's legs. His tongue thrust inside her pussy. “Fuck. I'm… I'm gonna… Oh, I'm ‘bout to cum!” Amelia screamed. “Oh, really? I don't…remember you…askin’ me..for shit!” Erik said in between licks. “May I please cum? I can't take it anymore!” Amelia said her eyes filled with tears. “You betta!” Erik said slapping her clit with his free hand.

That was all it took to push Amelia over the edge. Her legs locked onto Erik as her belly seized. Her juices flooded Erik's fingers as he pushed them back in, leaking all over his hand and down his arm. He opened his mouth and covered her pussy so that he could catch everything. Amelia's moans turned to pained grunts. She was done.

Erik released his mouth from her pussy. He let go of her thick thighs causing them to fall like dead weights onto the bed. Amelia pulled her legs away from Erik and rolled over onto her side. He smacked her ass cheek while grabbing it roughly. “Good girl. You gone ignore Daddy again?” He asked leaning over to kiss Amelia's shoulder. “No, sir,” Amelia mumbled. “That's what the fuck I thought!” Erik replied standing from the bed.

“Get some rest, princess. Daddy's not done with you yet,” Erik said removing his shirt and heading towards the bathroom. “What?” Amelia said, jolting up from the bed. “Dafuck did you just say to me?” Erik snapped spinning around to meet Amelia's weak and apologetic eyes. “Nothing,” Amelia said as she let her head hit the bed again. “Since you got so much mouth, you got an hour. I know exactly what the next punishment is,” Erik said grinning.

Taglist: @kirayuki22 @revealingco @nahimjustfeelingit-writes

[saintslewis]

❝ 𝐌𝐎𝐕𝐄 ❞

𝐑𝐄𝐍𝐀𝐈𝐒𝐒𝐀𝐍𝐂𝐄: 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐒𝐄𝐑𝐈𝐄𝐒 | 𝐋𝐇𝟒𝟒

pairing: sir lewis hamilton x fem!oc; Nadia

summary: a lil workplace visit can’t be that bad, right?

warnings: cussing, links to pinterest. a lil short, sorry!

saint’s team radio 🎀: hiiiii there. thank you for all the love on virgo’s groove, i truly love each and everyone of you! hope you enjoy this, babies!

pls like, comment and reblog!

dividers from @cafekitsune

fc: @/unclewaffles_ on ig!

renaissance: the series masterlist 🪩

Lewis had missed his wife, terribly so.

Often being reminded by most, that his companion was not next to him as much as she was the last two weeks. He never tired talking about her in any sense and to anyone who would listen. By now, she would’ve spoken about her students or a joke that her friends used to tell as she attended university many years ago. Possibly a song she was thinking about or a candy she tried from the hotel in Miami.

He had missed the bright smile she often displayed at anyone who was open to receiving it or whenever she spoke of her new friends. Lewis had realised she had quite the loud laugh, contradicting her quiet voice, and how she would laugh at his jokes, a quiet wheeze at first then a boisterous laugh following right after. He had also missed how she would slip into one of her many home languages whenever she spoke and how she would derail the conversation to explain every little thing in that specific language.

Surprisingly so, he liked seeing that she was spending his money, even after trying to convince her that it was totally okay. Lewis also liked how she would send little updates on her day just as he did as well, talking about how she’s constantly stopped in the streets for pictures and how shocked she always was that people recognised her.

He also liked the rambles she had whenever they got the chance to facetime. Making her blush at his words was always a sight to see and how she would try do it back but her giggles held her back.

Lewis missed Nadia. A lot.

Sitting in his hotel room in Barcelona, he stared at the suitcases that were waiting right by the door. He checked his carry on once again to check that the little gifts he got her were okay. The specific hoodie he was wearing still had faint scents of her perfume, making Lewis feel giddy to get home. Months ago, he would’ve always said that the world is his home but ever since he met Nadia, he could feel his smile get larger as his thoughts go on.

Managing to get a podium, just as he promised her, he remembered her excitement and astonishment when he explained how many he actually had. She went on to tell him that she’ll make celebratory baked goods for whenever he gets back. Lewis knew that he was distracted when he attended a dinner with some friends after the race, his phone couldn’t be separated from his hands. All that was on his mind was seeing her.

-

“I know we initially removed the second question from the assignment but the board brought it forward that it needs to be done.” As soon as Nadia finished her sentence, her year 12 students groaned loudly.

“It didn’t make sense to me either but because you’re my kiddies, I’ll research when I get home and just get a memo so you don’t have to worry. Even if you all write the same thing, it’s okay.” She assured, walking to her desk after handing out the ‘new’ assignment papers.

“Uh, Ms Brown. You said this can be typed out, right?” A hand that was raised asked. Before the teacher could answer, someone interjected.

“It’s Mrs Hamilton, Tash.” That made a few students laugh. Nadia would never get used to hearing herself being referred to that. Every time she even woke up in that house, it was unbelievable.

With a little chuckle, she put her pen down. “Thank you, Kim. But yes, it needs to be typed out and don’t forget to make a cover, everyone.” Picking up her pen once again, Nadia went on to work on the question that troubled the whole class.

Silence fell and all that was heard was faint music coming from some kid’s headphones as they worked on their assignment or their homework, Nadia never had an issue if they needed to complete other tasks from their other classes.

Glancing at the clock on her desk, there were at least two hours of school left but luckily, she only had a few classes that day and was able to go home early. An empty large mansion but it was home. Craving the vanilla macrons she made yesterday, Nadia was more than excited to get home.

It was also the day that she expected her husband back home from Spain. Mondays usually went slower than the usual but she pushed her excitement to the back of her head as she continued to work. There was still some time left with her favourite class so she relaxed in her seat.

Nadia’s phone kept buzzing with text messages as she typed away on her laptop, sending an apologetic look to the students who’s heads whipped at the distracting sounds. Picking it up, all she saw was messages from Maggie, the school office admin, sending through messages that basically implied that she was shaking, she was excited and constantly repeated ‘girllllll’.

The class was now interested in whatever was going on because Nadia’s eyebrows furrowed in confusion. There was nothing she was aware of unless the principal wanted to talk to her about something but that was even more confusing.

A knock echoed through the classroom and she gave the student closest to the door a signal to open it and he froze at the door, seemingly starstruck. All the kids then leaned outside their desks to see and they began screaming in excitement at whoever was at the door. The figure walked in the door and Nadia’s stomach dropped at the sight.

“Oh my days, Lewis Hamilton is in my class!”

-

After eventually calming down the class who were still shocked and buzzing at the fact that Lewis was there, he offered to take pictures with everyone and even brought them doughnuts that he had left outside the class in hopes to surprise them. He locked eyes with his wife and made his way to her, signalling to the kids that he’d be right back to take pictures.

Nadia threw her arms around his waist as soon as Lewis was close enough, he kissed through her wig then her forehead, completely aware that the kids were watching and recording. “I don’t wanna get fired, Lew.” Nadia spoke, facing away from her students.

“I had a word with the principal, you’re good.” He reassured, patting her back. Winking at her as he went back to the excited kids, she felt the butterflies in her stomach. She also realised how spontaneous he was because he really just showed up to her work like he forgot who he was.

Getting home was a bit of a challenge, the rest of the school caught wind of his appearance and that was a mission in itself. To Nadia’s luck, school was still in session and she could get home early with her husband by her side. The deal was that Lewis would come speak to the kids one day in exchange for his spontaneity.

Climbing out of the Range Rover that she drove herself to school in, Lewis held her hand to the front door where his suitcases were waiting to be let in. It felt all so domestic like they’ve done this a thousand times before, taking off their shoes right by the door and she immediately slipped into her slides. The home smelt like a mixture of her sweet perfume, cookies and the ocean scented incense she bought for the house.

“Welcome home!” Nads turned around after dropping all her things on the kitchen island to throw her arms around his neck for the physical touch they had been waiting for. They melted into the hug, faces digging into each other’s necks, engulfing each other with their warmth. The two stood there for what seemed like an eternity before letting go eventually. “That felt good, wow.” Lewis said, his eyes taking in every part of her face.

He had missed her so much.

“Right? It felt like a month apart. How are you feeling? Spain was something else.” Nadia smiled, still unable to look at him in his eyes. Before he could answer, he knew he couldn’t just outright say anything to her yet. Lewis couldn’t tell her that he’s falling for her so quickly, so much so that he wanted to shout it out to the world. He did that already, the world just doesn’t know that all of this isn’t real.

“I’ve been alright, just wanted to come back home and relax. Getting that podium though,” Lewis breathed out. “Please, you made it look flawless.” Nadia interrupted, with a ‘duh’ expression on her face. He couldn’t help but genuinely smile at that.

She walked further into the kitchen and he followed after her like a puppy, waiting for her to do anything. “I made you vegan vanilla macrons for your podium and my non-vegan ones are in a different lunch box.” Nadia tapped the lunch box labelled ‘vegan’ with her freshly done nails then placed it on the kitchen counter.

“Ohh shit, I forgot I got you something else as well!”

Nadia ran up towards the stairs, spewing out the words as Lewis watched her with a smile on his face, leaning his head on his hand. Deciding to make himself comfortable in the living room, he waited for her.

Quick steps of her sandals echoing throughout the main floor, she came through with a medium sized box in hand, a proud smile on her face as she plopped herself right next to him on the couch. “So. You know how I said that I love sourcing for archives in fashion or the latest pieces that are just tough to find?” Nadia started.

“Yeah…..” Lewis responded with a slight lift of his eyebrow.

“This is a gift I want to give to you since you did so good in Spain but I got it like days before the podium so I had to pray that you did good.” She added, unable to contain her smile as she handed the box to him. Sitting down quite close to each other, she watched as Lewis carefully ripped the gift wrap.

He was smiling before he fully opened his gift. “I can feel you just jumping’ in excitement.” Lewis said, his natural accent and voice coming into light. The same voice he used to when he felt right at home.

Eventually putting all the gift wrap to the side, he faced the box in curiosity, opening it and being prepared to see anything. “You’re joking.” Lewis said in shock, staring at Nadia who’s smile was brighter than the sun itself. “It was tough finding these but I do hope you like them, Lew.” She responded.

“These were made-“ “By Virgil, yep. I knew that you guys had a good friendship so when I came across these, they reminded me of you guys.” She informed and giggled at Lewis constantly looking back and forth at the shoes. The Nike x Louis Vuitton air force one was apart of a collection released in honour of Virgil Abloh, Lewis’ friend and Nadia’s inspiration in the fashion world.

Lewis couldn’t contain himself and stood up abruptly, pulling Nadia with him to wrap his arms around her and give her an even warmer hug. A bit shocked, Nadia quickly recovered and returned the same energy towards him. “Thank you, Nads, truly. Not just for the shoes but just…everything.”

“Anytime, pookie bear.” Nadia moved her head to look directly into his eyes, focusing on every crevice of her face. Looking down at her neck, he caught a glimpse of shining silver jewellery sitting pretty on her neck, only used to seeing gold pieces only.

“Is that 44 on your necklace?” He pointed it out, looking back and forth between her face and her jewellery. “Oh! Yeah, I wanted it to match my ring. The world is getting familiar with this face, might as well add to it.” Nadia said with a smug smile and Lewis had to collect himself but he realised he was right home.

Adding a little chuckle, he lowered his large hands from the middle of her back to her ass then her thighs, getting a yell out of her when she wrapped her legs around his waist. “Wanna get the neighbour familiar with you?” Lewis smirked, licking his lips at the same time.

“Let’s get right to it, Sir.” She responded, giggling as he started rushing to the bedroom, holding onto her tightly as they went up the stairs.

-

lewishamilton

lewishamilton a week filled with love and joy. canada, here we come ~

tagged: @/nadiahamilton

view all comments

nadiahamilton i look too good 🤭

lewishamilton you always do

nadiahamilton omg STAWWP 🥹

user dawg this is so unfair, you don’t get it

fencer my best friends 🥹

liked by lewishamilton

user mother and father

kehlani sleep with one eye open, mister

lewishamilton it’s sir

kehlani i’m still taking your wife, leprechaun 🫵🏽

user seeing you two in Canada!!

user this man is too gone, bridgerton level simp

user well duh, if you were with Nadia, you’d be too

lewishamilton this is true, she hung up the moon and the stars

user OOOOHHHHHH LEWISSSSSS 🙂‍↕️

chunks your home is so beautiful, thanks champ 🫡

user lewis is friends with the beta squad????

user they’re nadia’s friends

louisvuitton hope you loved your gift! 🤍

lewishamilton it was gifted by Nads so it was the best 🫶🏽

user you guys are so cute, it HURTS

canadagrandprix thee it couple

mercedesamgf1 has more stories about Nadia than the Spanish gp, we have to respect it

badgalriri got a problem? 🤨

user they got Riri clocking they asses 😭😭😭

nadiahamilton

nadiahamilton i’m the cooler one

view all comments

tyla you’re the coolest of them all 😝

nadiahamilton love you always!!

nellarose_ that french vanilla cake you made? signing you up for masterchef rn!

nadiahamilton girl pls 😭

user you guys remember when the wags called her tinkerbell? she literally is tinkerbell in real life 😭

user and she smells like money and sweet flowers ‼️

nataliatheedon come back to America rn

nadiahamilton canada’s the best i can do 😣

user i feel like a certain canadian rapper is gonna show up lol

user i’m from toronto and there’s a rumour that lewis’ people are blocking off that rapper from getting near nadia because he keeps reposting her pics lollllll

user no ways lewis actually has shooters???

user he’s Lewis, what did you expect? 😭

zendaya mother graced us with her presence once again

nadiahamilton love you Z 😚

louisvuitton 🤍🤍

sza hand in marriage?

lilymhe omg hiii, let’s redo monaco?

lewishamilton hi sweetheart

nadiahamilton hi my love

user PARENTS

saint’s notes 🪩: heyyyy babies! this is one is quite short lol but i hope you enjoyed! love u all 😚 also noticed the colour schemes for their insta posts? 🫡

taglist: @non-stop-imagines @motheroffae @perfecttrashface @thisismeracing @myescapefromthislife @slytherinjimin3nthusiast @jamie2305 @cocobutterqwueen @like-fire-love-blog @sugardontbesweet @simpfortoomanymen @mauvecherie-writes @queenshikongo3 @eugene-emt-roe @deepgothfiremuffin @18754389 @cherry2stems @anubisnoir @littlelizzies-world @httpsserene @apenasumlug4r @youre-sooooo-funny @eddiesbitch83 @arshiyuh @alika-4466 @peyiswriting @sunfairyy @vsfavs @louvrepool @mistruscity @tian-monique @hopefulromantic1 @exotic-iris13 @yeea-nah @nichmeddar @gg-trini @lifeless-firefly @vellicora @takeoffz-tookoff9876 @serpenttines-library @emjayewrites @royallyprincesslilly @lewisroscoelove @purplelewlew @xoscar03 @kidsol-ar @nothaqks @tremendousstarlighttragedy @ggaslyp1

if your account is blank, that mean tumblr can’t find you!

[nobitchs-world]

My ancestors looking down at me as I talk about how much I love white men

[mrsfancyferrari]

Show You Domination

Summary: You were just an interviewer for the Met Gala when you were able to meet the Sir Lewis Hamilton PT 2

Song: Brent Faiyaz - ALL MINE

Part 1 Taglist: @totallynotluluu, @omgsuperstarg, @britenysbitch, @imjustheretomanifest, @livsturnioloo, @npcmia, @ernegren, @constipated-ch1ck3n, @belabobanana

Author’s note: A lot of people asked for Part 2 so this is it! If you didn't know, the titles are from the lyrics of the song that Lewis was featured in called Pipe by Christina Aguilera. Please like, reblog and share this! 🫶

Word count: 6.8k

Yet just as you began to lose yourself completely in the intoxicating haze of passion, a sudden knock on the door shattered the intimate cocoon you had woven together.

You jumped slightly, a startled gasp escaping your lips, but Lewis tightened his hold around you, grounding you in the present even amidst the intrusion.

“Lewis, everyone is looking for you to celebrate,” came George's voice from the other side, carrying an air of urgency that seemed to tug at the edges of your romantic bubble.

The weight of reality crashed in—a reminder of the outside world that waited just beyond the door—but you could feel Lewis’s breath against your cheek, warm and soothing, as he whispered softly, “Let them wait a moment longer. I’m not done with you yet.”

You felt your heart race at the intimacy of his words, at the command woven into them. “But Lewis,” you protested lightly, your voice scarcely above a whisper. “The party is important. You’re important.”

He shook his head, a soft smile playing on his lips as he leaned closer, his breath warm against your cheek.

“What’s more important than this?” he murmured, oblivious to the outside world, lost in the depths of your gaze. You could barely find your words as your heart fluttered at his closeness.

“Lewis… if you don’t go, they’ll think something’s wrong,” you replied, biting your lip to suppress a smile that threatened to escape.

You didn’t want to be the reason he missed out on celebrating with his family and friends, but it was hard to focus on anything else when he was so near.

He chuckled softly, a rich sound that sent shivers down your spine. “And what if I prefer to be here with you instead?” His hands slid down to your waist, pulling you closer as he traced little circles with his fingertips.

“George will come in,” you warned gently, yet a part of you didn’t mind the idea of being caught in such a vulnerable moment.

“Let him try,” Lewis grinned mischievously, his eyes sparkling with a playful challenge. Before you could respond, the knock on the door sounded again, more insistent this time.

“Lewis, seriously! You need to get out here,” George’s voice insisted, the sound muffled but still filled with urgency. “Everyone’s waiting! It’s your day!”

Finally, with a reluctant sigh, Lewis ran a hand through his disheveled braids, frustration flickering in his eyes. “Ugh, fine. But only because I don’t want you to feel guilty about me missing my own celebration.”

“See? You can still make an entrance,” you teased, hoping the humor would break his somber mood.

He gave you one last, lingering look—one that made you feel as if he were imprinting every detail of this moment in his memory. “And I’ll make sure to save the last dance for you,” he vowed, his voice a low promise that resonated deep within you.

As he reluctantly pulled away and headed to the door, you felt a mixture of pride for him and yearning for the moment you had shared.

Just as he opened it, George was greeted by a view of the two of you—a picture of intimacy, caught just before that fragile boundary between privacy and reality shattered completely.

“There you are! You just vanished,” George exclaimed, glancing between you two with a knowing smirk. “Let’s move, the crowd’s been asking about you.”

While Lewis stepped into the hallway, he turned back for a fleeting moment, his gaze locking onto yours. “I mean it,” he said softly, almost conspiratorially. “I’ll find you later. Don’t think I’m letting the night end without you.”

Lando, Max, and then, finally, Lewis claimed the top spot on the podium. It was a sight you’d both dreamed of and now watched in reality.

As the first notes of the British National Anthem echoed through the air, a surge of pride washed over you. Lewis stood on the top of the podium, bathed in adoration as the fans cheered and the confetti rained down.

You watched, a smile planted firmly on your face, as he closed his eyes and took in the moment. His arms stretched behind him, he seemed to draw strength from the very air around him, embodying the spirit of a champion.

Beside you, Lewis’ parents beamed with pride, and the atmosphere felt electric, filled with joy and shared victories.

"Did you sort out the situation?" his father inquired quietly, casting an inquisitive glance your way. His tone was filled with genuine concern.

"Yeah, me and Lewis are fine now," you replied, your gaze unwavering from the victorious driver.

Here you were, surrounded by the luminaries of the sport, yet your eyes were solely set on Lewis.

As the anthem faded and the celebratory chaos of champagne spraying began, Lewis made a beeline for the crowd, excitement radiating from him. Yet, it was peculiar—he deliberately shifted to avoid spraying you and your little group.

A chuckle escaped your lips as you half-wondered, half-expected him to break the rule. How lucky were you to call someone like Lewis your own?

After the celebrations, replete with jubilant shouts and soaked attire, Lewis made his way back to the paddock, champagne glistening on his skin.

The moment finally arrived when you could wrap your arms around him and congratulate him personally.

"So, how are you going to celebrate this win? The club?" you asked, leaning toward the thin door he was behind, eager to see him again.

"I'd rather stay in the house with you and Roscoe," he replied, his voice soft and inviting. The way he said it sent butterflies flitting in your stomach.

You couldn't help blushing, your heart racing at the thought of a cozy evening at home, just the two of you, away from the glitzy after-parties that buzzed with the faux glamour of the racing world.

"Are you serious? After this spectacular win? You want to skip the celebrations?" you countered, half-teasing, half-hoping he would elaborate on this unexpected desire.

"Absolutely. I mean, we can celebrate properly—just us. Maybe cook a nice dinner, let Roscoe join us on the couch, and just enjoy the moment without the noise," he continued, the affection in his tone almost palpable.

You chuckled softly, feeling your heart swell with warmth. "Sounds dreamy. Just us, a movie, and Roscoe settling in for a cuddle? Count me in!"

“Exactly! It’s the simple things that make me happiest,” he admitted.

You could hear the soft rustle of clothing and the clink of champagne glasses in the background, but all you could focus on was that sound of his voice intermingling with what felt like a hundred unspoken promises.

As Lewis emerged, grinning from ear to ear, you knew you wouldn't want to be anywhere else. He had that knack for making every moment shine brighter, even when the spotlight was off him. . . .

The air thrummed with excitement. The gathering buzzed with joyful chatter as people milled around, already replaying the thrilling moments of the game that had just concluded.

Lewis stood at the center of it all, his warm smile unable to hide the exhilaration coursing through him.

You stood a little off to the side, enjoying the view of Lewis—the way he soaked in every congratulatory hug and exuberant high-five. Each person who approached him seemed to light up just a little brighter in his presence.

There was something infectious about his happiness, and you loved seeing him surrounded by people who admired him, who recognized all the hard work he had put in to achieve this moment.

When the crowd finally began to thin, and you began your walk to his car, the final wave of congratulations washed over you again.

As a few of his team staff gathered one last time to give him a hearty slap on the back, you found yourself instinctively stepping aside, letting them share in this moment of triumph.

You observed with a gentle smile, feeling a mix of pride and humility at being part of his world.

Lewis soon turned back to you after saying goodbye to another friend. “Thank you for being here,” he said, his eyes sparkling.

“It’s my pleasure,” you responded, your heart full. “You deserve this celebration.”

As you caught up with him, he glanced at you, his brow slightly furrowed. “Why do you move away when someone comes?”

“Oh...” Your voice trailed off as embarrassment washed over you. “I just don’t want to ruin the moment by being there. Everyone is so excited, and I feel like a bit of an outsider sometimes.”

His expression softened, and he stepped closer, slowing his pace as if to match yours. “You think you’re an outsider?”

You looked up at him, feeling a knot in your stomach. “Sometimes. I mean, you have this whole life with your teammates, your fans. You’re the star, Lewis.”

He laughed, a gentle, rolling sound that made warmth spread through your chest. “I’m just a person, you know? I wouldn’t have made it this far without support. You’re part of my team too, you know that, right?”

“Am I?” you asked with a teasing lilt, though the sincerity in his tone made your heart flutter.

“Of course!” he replied, his eyes earnest. “You’ve been my rock, always cheering from the sidelines. I can’t imagine celebrating like this without you.”

Still conscious of the crowd that had gathered around him just moments ago, you felt shy. “I just wanted you to have your moment. You’ve earned it.”

He shook his head, a smile still dancing on his lips. “I appreciate it, but you should know you add to those moments, not take away from them. The excitement doubles when you’re around.”

Flushing, you looked up again just as a couple of his teammates approached to congratulate him once more. You took a step back, a habit solidified over the years of being his supportive friend.

But Lewis grabbed your hand softly, making you freeze in place. “No, stay with me,” he insisted as he smiled at his friends.

With your hand still in his, you couldn’t help but follow his lead, and as his friends chimed in with their enthusiastic comments, you found a newfound sense of belonging in the circle.

One of them nudged you playfully. “And you! Don’t think you can hide over there! You were cheering louder than anyone else!” He turned to Lewis, winking. “Is that your secret weapon, mate? Keep your cheerleader close!”

You laughed, feeling the warmth of camaraderie with the group. Lewis flashed a grin, squeezing your hand lightly. “Absolutely. She’s the reason I play harder, why I push myself. Couldn’t do this without her!”

As the celebration began to die down, and the crowd started dispersing, you found yourselves walking towards his car in a comfortable silence, the night illuminated by scattered streetlights. Finally, you broke it.

“Thank you for not letting me hide,” you said, glancing sideways at him.

“I’ll always be here to pull you out,” he said lightly. “Besides, I happen to think you’re amazing, and you deserve to have a front-row seat in this new chapter of my life.”

You chuckled, shaking your head. “You’re just saying that because you won! Wait till Monday rolls around, and I’m back to being your voice of reason.”

“Maybe that’s exactly what I need,” he countered, his voice light. “I wouldn't trade you for anything. So, keep that spirit close, alright?”

As he opened the car door and motioned you to get in, you couldn’t shake the warmth blooming inside. Lewis wouldn’t let you step aside; he wanted you by his side, cheering him on as he followed his dreams.

“Just remember, whatever happens,” he said, sliding into the driver’s seat, “you’re part of this team. Just like me. Always.”

As you drove off, you knew that despite any insecurities, you would always have a place in this exciting journey.

The engine of Lewis’s car gently purrs, a stark contrast to the bustling arena you just left behind. The bright lights of the paddock faded in the rearview mirror, but the thrill of the race still buzzes in your veins.

You both sit in silence, the weight of the day heavy around you, the celebratory atmosphere having dimmed like the neon lights outside. “You did really great today,” you finally say, breaking the quiet.

Lewis glances your way, his face stretching into a weary smile, kissed by the adrenaline still coursing through him.

“Thanks. It was... intense. I didn’t think I’d pull it off at the end.” His tone betrays a hint of disbelief, as if he’s still processing his victory.

“Yeah, that last lap was unreal!” You lean back in your seat, your heart warm with appreciation for his talent.

You can see that the highlight of the day—the roaring crowd, the flashing cameras—has worn thin. It’s just the two of you now in the car, a sanctuary amidst the chaos of his life.

“Let’s just say I wouldn’t have made it without my number one fan.” He grins, teasing, but the playful twinkle fades quickly. Exhaustion blankets the atmosphere again.

You pull into Lewis’s driveway, shadows stretching across the gravel under the dim porch light. The echo of your surroundings envelops you, the night quiet except for the rustling leaves in the breeze.

He exits the vehicle, rounding to open your door. “After you, my lady,” he says with a small bow, his expression lightening as he teases.

“Such a gentleman,” you quip back, stepping out and feeling the cool night air against your skin—a contrast to the warmth of the car.

When he opened the door, you stepped inside the warm embrace of Lewis’s home, the familiar scent of soap and chocolate chip cookies wafting through the air.

Immediately, your thoughts went to Roscoe, his bulldog— a chubby bundle of joy who had a knack for brightening even the darkest of days.

“Where’s my buddy?” you called out enthusiastically, anticipation bubbling within you.

“As if on cue…” Lewis’s voice trailed off as he walked further inside, his eyes sparkling with mischief.

He pushed open the door to the living room, and suddenly Roscoe came barreling in, his stout body squirming with the kind of joy that could only be described as pure bliss.

You squatted down, arms wide open, and Roscoe launched himself into your embrace, his little paws scrambling to find purchase on your side.

“Hey, big guy!” you exclaimed, wrapping your arms around the bulldog as he nuzzled into your shoulder, his breath warm and comforting against your skin. “Missed you today! Did you watch your dad win?”

“Are you kidding?” Lewis chimed in from behind you, still leaning against the wall with his arms crossed, an amused smile on his lips. “He didn’t take his eyes off the screen. Roscoe is my biggest fan, after all.”

You turned your head to look at Lewis, your heart fluttering at the sight of him—wearing a simple t-shirt that hugged his frame perfectly, his tidy braids catching the afternoon light.

“Looks like we’re both team Lewis, huh?” you said, trying to keep your tone light.

It was an innocent comment, but deep inside, you felt a rush of feelings mix together, beating rapidly in the cage of your ribs.

Lewis’s gaze lingered on you a moment too long, warmth pooling in his brown eyes. “I think I’d like to think of you as my secret weapon,” he said, a smirk playing on his lips.

You felt your cheeks warm, and somehow, being called a “secret weapon” made your heart race even more.

“Secret weapon?” you echoed, the teasing lilt in your voice unmistakable. “You mean I’m your good luck charm? Or I’m just here to distract the other teams?”

“No,” he replied, pushing himself off the wall and taking a step closer, Roscoe still nestled in your arms.

“I’m serious. You bring this… this spark to my life, something I didn’t even know was missing until now. You make everything feel a little lighter.”

Your breath caught in your throat, and for a split second, you couldn’t respond, emotions swirling inside you like a tempest.

“Wow,” you finally murmured, your heart hammering. “That’s… that’s really sweet, Lewis.”

Roscoe, blissfully unaware of the growing tension, licked your cheek, dragging you back to the present.

You laughed and wiped your face. “See? Even Roscoe agrees.”

Lewis chuckled, watching you play with his playful bulldog, his smile widening. “He’s the best judge of character, isn’t he?” he said. “If he doesn’t like you, then… well, I guess I’d have to reconsider our friendship.”

You raised an eyebrow, glancing teasingly at Roscoe. “Well, considering I’m still on your good side, I’d say I’m safe.”

“Safe for now,” Lewis grinned, crossing his arms again as he observed you interacting with his bulldog. “But I have to say, I’m not the only one who’s a little smitten here.”

“Are you talking about me or Roscoe?” you replied, feigning innocence.

“Both!” Lewis chuckled, that flirtatious glimmer sparkling in his eyes. “I’d say Roscoe has you wrapped around his paw.”

You ruffled Roscoe’s ears affectionately. “Well, can you blame me? He’s irresistible!”

Lewis pushed off from the doorframe and walked over to join you on the floor. He sat down cross-legged, placing himself at eye level with both you and Roscoe.

“You know,” he said, scratching Roscoe’s back, “I’m pretty sure I’m the one who introduced you two. If I didn't invite you over, you’d never have met the bulldog of your dreams.”

You rolled your eyes playfully. “True, but I think you’re just jealous of our newfound friendship.”

“Jealous? Never!” He exaggerated a gasp and placed a hand over his heart. “I’m merely the loveable matchmaker in this little triangle of affection.”

“Right, right,” you teased, poking Roscoe in the side. “Well, I’ll be structuring my schedule around Roscoe from now on. He seems to be my true soulmate here.”

“Ah, look at that,” Lewis said dramatically, clutching his chest again. “My heart! I’ve been replaced by a dog!”

You burst into laughter, a sound that made Roscoe tilt his head, his ears twitching in response. “Don’t worry, Lewis. You still have your role as the matchmaker.”

“Good! I was worried for a second there,” he replied, winking at you. “But seriously, you two have a vibe that’s hard to miss. I mean, just look at you!”

You leaned back against the wall, your heart fluttering a little at the quirk of his smile.

Maybe it was the sunlight casting a golden hue around him, or perhaps the way Roscoe nestled against your side, but you felt a palpable shift in the air between you and Lewis.

“Alright, Mr. Matchmaker,” you said softly. “What would you suggest for our next date? A romantic walk in the park with Roscoe, perhaps?”

“Only if I get to come along,” Lewis replied, edging slightly closer, a playful twinkle in his eye. “I can’t have my best doggie and his human gallivanting without me.”

You shook your head, unable to suppress a smile. “You’re like a third wheel, you know that?”

“Guilty as charged!” Lewis laughed, then his expression turned earnest. “But really, I want to spend time with both of you. It’s fun hanging out with you this week.”

As he said that, his gaze didn’t waver, and suddenly, the playful banter faded into a heavier silence.

You found your breath quickening as he scooted even closer, the space between you narrowing. You could feel the warmth radiating off him, enveloping you.

Roscoe, blissfully unaware of the tension, shifted again, nudging at your wrist for more petting, and you absentmindedly obliged.

But gradually, your attention shifted back to Lewis, who was leaning in even more. His lips hovered just above yours, a mere whisper away. The air was electrifying.

“Is this okay?” he murmured, his breath dancing against your lips. You could see his desire for permission in his eyes, waiting for you to respond.

You nodded slowly, your heart thrumming in your chest. “Yes,” you managed to whisper, feeling vulnerable yet exhilarated at the same time.

A brief smile flitted across his face before he closed the gap between you, kissing you softly. It was tentative at first, testing the waters, but then it deepened, igniting a warmth that spread through every fiber of your being.

You melted into it, feeling the world around you fade away until it was just the two of you, and in that moment, nothing else existed.

When he pulled back, both of you were wide-eyed, the reality of what had just happened settling around you like a warm blanket. You could hardly formulate words in the aftermath of that kiss.

“Wow,” you finally said, a smile breaking across your face, “that was unexpected.”

Lewis chuckled. “What did you expect? Just pet Roscoe for the rest of the afternoon?”

“Maybe,” you replied playfully, your heart still racing. “But it turns out I like this unexpected direction a lot more.”

“Me too,” he said, a genuine warmth lighting up his eyes. “Maybe Roscoe really is the luckiest matchmaker after all.”

You both laughed, and just like that, the previous tension melted away, replaced by something sweet and hopeful.

With Roscoe snuggling securely between you, the three of you formed a cozy picture of warmth and blossoming romance, just a few heartbeats away from something extraordinary. . . .

The sounds of Roscoe, the resplendent bulldog, filled the coziness of the living room as he clumsily flopped onto the floor.

You had positioned yourself on the couch next to Lewis, surrounded by bowls of popcorn and the savory scent of pizza that wafted through the air. The dim light of the TV flickered across the room, illuminating the casual atmosphere in which you found solace together.

"Do you want another slice?" you asked, reaching for the grease-stained box on the coffee table.

"Nah, I’m good," Lewis replied, his eyes still fixed on the screen where the lead actor was hyperbolically declaring his love for the lead actress. "I’m too busy admiring your pizza-eating technique.”

You chuckled, the warmth in your heart flickering like the shadows cast by the TV. You leaned back on the couch, allowing the weight of the moment to settle around you.

As Roscoe stretched out on the carpet, you absentmindedly scratched his belly with your foot. He sighed in contentment, blissfully unaware that you were soon to leave the comfort of this little sanctuary.

Just as you were engulfed in the charm of the night, Lewis glanced over at you, an unusual spark of seriousness in his gaze.

"So about your flight to America today?" he asked suddenly.

Your heart plummeted at the memory. Your flight! You had completely forgotten. The realization slammed into you like a freight train. Today.

You were supposed to be at the airport, preparing to board a plane that would take you miles away from Lewis.

"Oh... I—" you stammered, the words catching in your throat. "I forgot."

Lewis’s expression shifted from casual curiosity to something deeper, a flicker of concern. "Are you really going to leave?" he asked, his bright eyes dimming slightly, revealing a vulnerability that twisted your heart.

You had hoped to wait until after the movie to tell him, to glide through the night on a current of laughter and comfort before puncturing the joyous atmosphere with the truth.

"I mean, I have to, don’t I?" you replied, your voice barely a whisper. "It’s my job that I can’t pass up. You know that… right?"

He nodded, but the hope in his eyes began to flicker, and you could see the walls he was trying to maintain start to crack.

Roscoe shuffled closer, lifting his head to nuzzle your hand, as though he sensed the growing tension.

"But what if you stayed?" Lewis blurted out, his voice rising slightly as he turned fully towards you on the couch. "What if you took a chance on us?"

The silence stretched, almost surreal, between the three of you. The room was heavy with the weight of unspoken words, the kind that float in the air when love is at stake.

Roscoe tilted his head questioning, unaware that his humans were battling with the nuances of heart.

"I—I wish it were that simple." You glanced away from his penetrating gaze, feeling the warmth of both his and Roscoe’s presence wash over you. "I like you, Lewis. But—"

"But what? You’re just going to throw this away? Everything we’ve built?” His voice lowered, barely a murmur, infused with emotions that erupted from the core of him.

"You can always find a job in F1 so you can travel with me. We could figure something out..."

A lump formed in your throat as you observed the genuine hurt behind his plea. It twisted painfully in your chest. You had never imagined that a simple evening could evolve into such a tempest of emotions.

The happiness of the moment suddenly felt tainted with the bitter taste of impending separation.

"Do you realize how hard it’s going to be for me too? It's not just leaving for a job; I’d be leaving you behind." You sighed, feeling the tears prick at your eyes. “I mean, what if—”

"What if? Yes, I get it. What if you meet someone else? What if you fall out of love with me?” His voice cracked as he poured out his worries.

"But what if you don’t? What if we can make this work?”

You knew better than to let hope blossom into something untouchable; it was cruel to dangle possibilities like a carrot in front of someone’s heart.

But as you looked at him, the sincerity etching deeper into his handsome face, the fight that ignited within you refused to be extinguished.

This—him, Roscoe, the life you had begun to weave together— mattered.

Slowly, you reached for his hand, tangling your fingers. “I care about you so much, Lewis. But life is unpredictable. And I wouldn't want to hold you back from pursuing your dreams too. We can’t make promises on things we have no control over.”

He sighed deeply, his brown eyes shimmering with an emotional tempest.

“Then maybe we just need to figure out how to make it work. Plan visits, schedule video calls. You don’t have to throw everything you feel for me away," he urged, his voice softer now, almost reverent. "I won’t let you go easily.”

“Lewis…” you began, but he held your gaze, and in that moment, something shifted. Each of your breaths mingled in the charged air between you.

“Just think about it. Wouldn't it be worth fighting for?” His grasp tightened around your hand, never breaking eye contact.

“I will think about it,” you promised, feeling the rush of emotion crash like waves against a shore.

Roscoe, oblivious to the heavy conversation, lifted his head and nudged your free hand, demanding attention. You both chuckled, the moment disrupted by the playful insistence of your bulldog, easing some of the tension.

And as you scratched Roscoe’s ears, you and Lewis exchanged glances filled with unspoken agreements, anchoring promises for a distance that felt impossibly far yet somehow surmountable.

The pizza awaited, the movie continued to play, and in that moment, in the warm glow of Lewis’s living room, the distance between New York and London felt just a little bit smaller.

No matter what lay ahead, you knew you would cherish every second that led you to this point—even if it meant wrestling with the bitter uncertainty of future miles. . . .

In the bustling paddock of Silverstone Circuit, the air buzzed with excitement, electric tension crackling like a high-voltage wire. It was British Grand Prix qualifying day, and the sun had painted the sky a brilliant blue, a perfect backdrop for the day’s events.

The roar of engines, the shouts of teams, and the rhythmic thump of hearts filled the air as fans made their way to the grandstands.

Lewis Hamilton had just secured pole position, an achievement he wore like a crown.

He stepped out of his red car, grinning broadly, peeling off his racing gloves with an unmistakable swagger.

His team gathered around, congratulating him, but duty called. The media waited, eager to capture his victory in words.

As he made his way toward the media staging area, Lewis could feel the adrenaline still coursing through his veins, mingling with an excitement that had nothing to do with racing.

"This is what we work for," he said to himself, a smile creeping onto his face.

As he approached the media area, a reporter called out, "Lewis! How does it feel to be on pole at Silverstone?"

Hamilton turned, his eyes sparkling with enthusiasm. "It feels incredible! The support from the fans is overwhelming. I can’t thank them enough for being here. It gives me that extra push," he replied, his voice filled with passion.

Another journalist chimed in, "What do you think about the competition this weekend?"

Lewis paused for a moment, considering his words carefully. "Every race is a challenge, but I believe in my team and our strategy. We’ll give it our all," he asserted confidently.

As the questions continued, Hamilton felt a sense of camaraderie with the reporters. They were all part of the same thrilling world of racing. "What’s your plan for the race tomorrow?" one of them asked.

Lewis chuckled lightly, "Well, I can’t give away all my secrets! But I’ll be focusing on a strong start and maintaining my position. It’s all about keeping the momentum."

He spotted the last interviewer standing by the interview set, a nervous smile playing on their lips. They, an ambitious sports journalist, had spent years chasing stories and establishing their name in the industry.

"Hello, Lewis Hamilton!" they called out, their voice cutting through the cacophony.

"Hey there! Ready for some fun?" His eyes sparkled, the corners of his lips curling into a playful smirk as he walked toward them.

As the interview commenced, Lewis leaned back in his chair, his confidence palpable. “So, what do you want to know? The secrets of my speed?” His tone was teasing, his gaze unwavering.

“Only if you’re willing to share them, Lewis,” They shot back, managing to keep their composure. “Tell me, what’s it like to achieve pole position in front of your home crowd?”

“It feels incredible!” He exclaimed, enthusiasm radiating from him. “There’s a certain magic about driving here. The fans, the legacy—it pushes me to be better. And the pressure? Well, it’s a part of the game. You learn to thrive under it.”

He leaned closer, his voice lowering conspiratorially. “And let’s be honest, it’s fun to make them cheer, isn’t it?”

They nodded, captivated not just by his words but by the infectious energy he exuded. “Absolutely! Do you ever feel like you’re racing against not just the clock and other drivers, but against expectations, too?”

“More like racing with them!” He grinned. “I take it all and turn it into motivation. It’s like a dance; the rhythm of competition keeps me alive.”

He chuckled, the sound vibrant and warm. “And my fans? They’re an inspiring part of that dance.”

They could see a raw passion in his eyes, something that made them lean forward, eager to glean more. “Speaking of dancing, if you weren’t a racing driver, what would you be? A dancer?”

His laughter rang out like music. “If I could, I’d totally be a professional dancer! I can’t resist a good beat.”

He paused, his expression shifting slightly, his interest sharpening as he looked directly into their eyes. “Or maybe a musician. I could see myself rocking out on stage.”

“Right? I can totally picture that,” They laughed along, feeling the chemistry thickening, a heady blend of admiration and newfound intrigue.

As the interview carried on, they asked their questions, but the air between them transformed into something more.

“You’ve got an interesting perspective; I like that. You should join me in the garage more often,” he teased, a glint of mischief in his eyes.

Their cheeks flushed. “Only if you promise not to let those boring PR guys steal all my time.”

He chuckled, the sound wrapping around them like a warm embrace. “Deal. I need someone like you in my corner, keeping things interesting.”

Just then, the last question neared, and they decided to take a leap. “So, Lewis…” They began, a mischievous smile tugging at their lips, “when do I get to interview you again?”

He leaned even closer, the atmosphere growing electric with every heartbeat. “How about after the race? We can grab some dinner. You know, celebrate my win.”

They took a breath, feeling their heart race. “You mean celebrate your win? Or our win?”

“Definitely our win,” he said, his eyes sparkling with allure. “You’ve definitely made this qualifying experience one for the books.”

Just before wrapping up, they held his gaze steady. “Any words for the public, Mr. Hamilton?” They asked.

“In that case, see you later, Mrs. Hamilton,” he winked cheekily, shooting you a charismatic smile.

Your heart skipped as he turned to leave, but before he could get far, you found your voice, almost yelling in disbelief, “Lewis, you can't say that!”

He paused in his tracks, glancing back over his shoulder, a playful grin plastered across his face.

The crowd around you erupted in laughter, but in that moment, it felt like it was just you and him against the world.

As he approached, he leaned in, and you could feel the warmth radiating from him. “You’re blushing, sweetheart,” he teased, one eyebrow arched mischievously. “Don’t think I didn’t notice.”

“You can’t just drop bombshells like that!” you laughed, your cheeks burning with embarrassment. “What if someone overheard?”

Lewis took a step closer, making the distance between you feel electric. “And why not? Everyone should know how lucky I am.” There was sincerity in his voice, but it was laced with mischief.

“Lucky?” You raised an eyebrow, half-challenging him. “You’re the one draped in that flashy race suit while I’m standing here in… whatever this is.” You gestured down at your casual outfit, suddenly anxious about your appearance.

“Casual or not, you still shine brighter than any trophy,” he countered, his tone dropping to a more serious note as he brushed a strand of hair behind your ear.

You swallowed hard, fighting back a whirl of emotions. “You know I promised I wouldn’t distract you from your fans or your career. Secrets can be… exhausting.”

His playful demeanor softened into concern. “But keeping this secret for so long? It wears on us too, doesn’t it? You’re my wife, and I want the world to know. Plus I promised I wouldn’t let those boring PR guys steal all your time, so I might as well reveal that you’re mine,” he said, his voice passionate yet playful.

You could sense the sincerity in his words, but the idea of disclosure sent a shiver down your spine.

Your shy nature had kept the marriage under wraps, and part of you relished the intimacy of your secret world. The thrill of being together, away from prying eyes and judgment, was intoxicating.

Yet, here he was, wanting to burst that bubble.

“Lewis, what if things change?” you murmured, gazing into his warm brown eyes that seemed to hold a thousand untold stories. “What if the fans don’t accept it? What if it affects your career?”

He stepped closer, invading your personal space in a way that made your heart race. “We’ll handle it together.” His voice was low, sincere, and confident.

“You mean everything to me. I don’t care about their opinions. I want to live my life out loud with you by my side, not in whispers.”

Standing so close, you could feel the warmth radiating from him, grounding you, as if he could chase away your fears with just his presence. His honesty tugged on your heartstrings.

Maybe it was time to let go of the fear; you were not just his secret anymore; you were his partner.

“Okay,” you finally whispered, feeling your resolve melting away. “But under one condition.”

“Anything.” He leaned in, searching your face for any hint of hesitation.

“No ridiculous public displays of affection. I can’t deal with those cameras on us all the time.”

He chuckled, his smirk returning. “No promises,” he teased. “I might need to show the world just how lucky I am.”

You rolled your eyes, but a smile tugged at the corners of your lips. Just being around him felt like a whirlwind, and you knew you wouldn’t change a thing.

“Alright, Mr. Hamilton,” you said, adopting a playful tone. “Just remember the next time you call me that in public, I’m going to blush even harder.”

Lewis stepped back, a triumphant look on his face. “Good. The more flustered you get, the more I’ll know I’m doing my job right.”

With a final playful wink, he walked away to greet his fans, leaving you breathless and exhilarated.

At that moment, surrounded by race cars and excited fans, you realized that perhaps being Mrs. Hamilton wasn’t such a frightening notion after all; it might just be the adventure of a lifetime. . . .

As you stepped into the cool, inviting space of the kitchen, the heat from the paddock still clinging to your skin, you couldn’t help but smirk at the sight of Lewis.

He was leaning against the counter, a towel draped casually around his neck, his shirt clinging to his toned physique, accentuating every curve and muscle that had worked so hard just hours before.

You loved the way he looked, but you also loved the way you could tease him.

Just hours before, he’d proclaimed to the world that he was married to you, and the thrill of that declaration still tingled in your veins.

You sauntered closer, your own heart racing as you watched him try to mask his desire. He reached out, attempting to grab your waist, but you sidestepped with a playful grin.

“Nope, you're racing tomorrow,” you teased, your eyes sparkling with mischief. “No sex.”

Lewis groaned, the sound rich and full of frustration. You could see the heat rising in his cheeks, mingling with his undeniable desire.

“You can’t just leave me hanging like this,” he protested, his voice low and gravelly.

With a teasing tilt of your head, you stepped back even further, relishing the way his eyes locked onto yours, filled with a mix of challenge and longing.

“Oh, but I can. You need all your energy for the track tomorrow.” He pushed off the counter, taking a step toward you, but you held your ground, a playful defiance in your stance.

“You have to earn it, Lewis. Show me that you can focus tomorrow, and maybe, just maybe, I’ll consider it.” His eyes narrowed with determination, the playful banter transforming into an electric tension between you.

“You’re really going to make me work for it, aren’t you?” he said, a hint of a smile breaking through.

“Always,” you replied, feeling the pull of desire between you, a tantalizing promise for what was to come.

As you turned to leave the room, you felt his gaze linger, that familiar heat igniting at your back. You knew he wouldn’t give up easily, and you loved him for it.

After all, a little teasing was just the beginning of the thrill you both craved.

The next day he won his home race and got what he deserved. . . .

[whyyousoloudfor]

TikTok Prank.

Warnings: fluff

Word count: ????

Peaking your head into the kitchen, you see Lewis’ back is turned causing you to smile mischievously. This is perfect for the little prank you have planned for him. It’s a trend on TikTok you’ve seen girls try on their boyfriends and you thought it was hilarious, so why not try it on yours. You step into the kitchen, unlocking your phone camera before propping it up against Lewis’ water bottle that’s study enough for the phone to not tip over. You make sure the camera is angled perfect then press the record button. Lewis’ is so focused chopping up vegetables for dinner and softly singing to the music playing in the background, he barely knows what’s going on behind him. You sneak up to him and snake your arms around him from behind, your cheek pressed again his t-shirt clad back.

“Hi baby.” You say sweetly, tightening your around him, snuggling into him. He slightly jumps, startled by your actions then relaxes in your touch putting down the knife to gently grab one your hands bring it up to his soft lips. “Hi, my sweet girl.” He responds back in the same tone. He places my hand back down and resumes chopping the veggies. You bite down on your lip holding back your laughter for what you’re about to say next. In a serious tone you say, “Honey, we have to talk. I have something to tell you.” You remove arms from around him and wipe your palms down the legs of your jeans before placing them in your back pockets. He drops the knife on the counter again turning around to give you his undivided attention, his facial expression laced with concern. Looking down at your feet, you avoid looking up at him because you know if you look, you will feel bad enough to back out of the plan. Lewis takes a few steps towards you, cupping your face in his hands making you look up at him. His eyes intensely watch you as his thumbs stroke your cheekbones.

“What’s wrong, baby? You pregnant or something? Somebody died?” He pauses for a moment. “If it’s about your leftovers you had in the fridge, it wasn’t me, it was Roscoe!” You both burst out into laughter. “Poor Roscoe, it be your own dad. But no, it’s none of that.” You say, getting back into character. “Then what is it?” He says, removing his hands to grab both of your hands, intertwining y’all fingers.

“I can’t pay the mortgage this month.”

You stare up look at him waiting for his reaction. His eyes are focused to the view behind you through the large glass slide door that leads into the backyard. He stays silent for a few second, his eyes cut back to yours narrowing with his head tilted slightly. “What did you just say?”

“Babe, I can’t pay the mortgage this month. I’m sorry.”

His head jerks back and drops your hands placing a tattooed hand over his heart. He’s offended. “Angel? You? Pay a mortgage? Be so fucking for real.” You try to hold back a giggle, watching him start to pace and forth around the kitchen. You walk up to him grabbing his hand to bring him back into the camera. “Lew, I’m sorry!” You exclaimed, wrapping your arms around his waist again resting your chin on his chest. “Sweetheart…” he starts. “Do you even know what a mortgage looks like? Do you even know what a damn bill looks like? Don’t embarrass me, baby.” The answer to that is No. You don’t know what any of that shit looks like and you don’t want to. Lewis wouldn’t allow it anyway. He continues his rambling, “I’d rather mop the fucking ocean than let you pay any bill around me, don’t piss me off, Y/F/N.” You reach up to cover his mouth with your hands before he goes any further. You couldn’t help but break character and burst into fits of laughter.

“It’s a prank, baby! Off TikTok.” You say hunched over as you continue to laugh and point at the phone recording on the counter. Lewis looks over at the phone. He brings a hand up to his chest letting out a sigh of relief, pulling you in to him by your waist. He plants several kisses on your forehead then mumbles, “Angel, toktik almost got you knocked out.” You smile, leaning into him as you feel his lips on your skin. The prank was a success.

“I know and it was worth it, your reaction was priceless.”

Thanks for reading! Feel free to leave your thoughts, comments and feedback in my inbox. I’ll even take requests.

[saturnville]

what happens in madrid… [1/2]

pairing: jude bellingham x black oc (naomi sinclair) summary: what happens in madrid… warnings: none. tags: @emjayewrites @cocobutterqwueen @neeville @neewrites @cosmic-parker + anyone else who likes football fics? let me know if you want to be added! an: when I tell you this took me forever…I truly hope you like my delusions put into a fic 🩵 and this gif!!!

part two: …stays in madrid

“Let me take you out. Make your trip one to remember.”

Naomi considered herself a smart woman. University-educated with street smarts that were more profound than a person would assume for her age. She intentionally thought through every scenario; understanding that everything she said, thought, and did came with a consequence.

She didn’t know what it would take to see a six-foot man with caramel skin and chocolate brown eyes approaching her at a local restaurant and boldly attempting to woo her, to let go of all her inhibitions and throw her common sense out the window. She knew him, yes, but she didn’t know him. Hell, he could kill her within the next five minutes.

Did it phase her? No. For once, she let her curiosity outweigh her logical mind and fell victim to his gleaming smile and charming nature. She was on vacation, she tried to reason the best she could. On vacation and being pursued by a fine young man who insisted she have a good time during her stay. So, she pushed her hair over her shoulder and gave him a smile that raised his eyebrows in interest. “Pick me up from here tomorrow.”

-

“Well aren’t you beautiful,” he complimented as she walked toward his vehicle, dark and brooding, much unlike the man he’d presented himself as. His comment had her lips curling upward to a smile. She thanked him, accepted the kiss on her cheek, and tried not to fold when he guided her to the passenger’s seat.

“Thank you,” Naomi replied after some time. “You are dually handsome, sir.” And that was a fact. She appreciated his subtle approach to fashion. Everything he wore was high-end, that was evident, but it wasn’t flashy. His aura and confidence spoke for him. He wore the black button-down and matching short set with an easy confidence. The dark sunglasses over his eyes completed the look, only emphasizing her thoughts.

Jude smiled and proceeded to drive out of the hotel lot. They engaged in small conversation, picking up from where they left off the previous night. They were different but had a lot in common. She, too, was the oldest of two, save she had a sister rather than a brother. Unlike her, her sister didn’t take an interest in football, rather participated in cheerleading and went to university on a cheer scholarship.

“That’s amazing,” Jude commented genuinely. “She graduated right?”

Naomi shook her head. “Not yet; she’s still got time. She’s a first-year, but she’s already planning her graduation trip. She wants to go to England.” His ears perked up and a sly smile crept on his lips. She rolled her eyes playfully but accepted his proposal to share places she should visit whenever her sister went to England.

“You know,” Jude spoke minutes later as he guided her out of the vehicle. She took his extended hand and thanked him, straightening her thigh-length skirt. “I don’t hear Spain as a place for solo travel often. What prompted that?”

Her response was delayed by her infatuation with the sights above her. They were outside of a museum. Not just any museum, but the National Archaeological Museum. She was inwardly awed. He took note of her love for history and art and took her to the museum. She could kiss him right then and there.

“Glad you took my advice and wore comfortable shoes.” They both glanced at her New Balance sneakers that complimented her neutral-toned outfit. She wore a gray cropped top, knee-length distressed shorts, and a white fitted cap to match. “We’ll be out for a while. I know a good lunch place not too far away if you want to go later.”

Naomi smiled. “Looking forward to it.”

-

“Oh, it’s so beautiful!’ Naomi refrained from touching the meticulously handcrafted bust in front of her. Her eyes gleamed with wonder and adoration. She adored museums. They were where art and history kissed and refused to gasp for air. There was nothing like it.

From behind her, Jude nodded slowly, not paying much attention to the busts, but rather her child-like excitement and sun-like glow. He could have cursed himself for doing all of this for a woman he’d met less than 36 hours before, but the feeling deep within him outweighed the logic his brain tried to present him with.

A pretty woman whom he just happened to speak to at dinner had agreed to let him take her around Madrid for vacation. Just as he did, she’d taken such a liking to him that she agreed to spend time with him until she left ten days later. He had ten days to be in her presence and he’d been damned if he let his mind ruin it.

“Yeah,” Jude spoke up after some time, his eyes following her. “Very beautiful.”

-

Liked by adyajalyn, tomjones, alexandraaaaa, and 341 others

naomisinclair such a beautiful city

View all 72 comments

adyajalyn girl who took that picture and who’s arm is that

— naomisinclair 🌚

adyajalyn you go out of the country once and start befriending strangers like a dumbass

adyajalyn is he cute though?

— naomisinclair very

judeb pretty

— naomisinclair liked your comment!

— naomisinclair judeb thank you boo

—judeb liked your comment!

-

“So, do you plan on returning to Madrid in the future?” Jude asked as they walked in a local park, hand in hand. Naomi tilted her head to the sky and swung their hands together. “Or was this a one-time trip?”

“I’ll be back. Especially if I have a reason to return.” She turned her head to meet his eyes, which were already awaiting hers. She saw something within them--excitement, interest, and desire. It made her stomach clench and her face grow warm. “So, hopefully, I will.”

The wheels began to turn in his mind. She’d be gone in ten days. He’d go on break in fourteen days. Would he be insane to try and get to know a woman who was nowhere near Madrid? Maybe. But, who doesn't like a little crazy?

After some time, Jude spoke up, “I’d like to think you will.”

Her eyes twinkled. She said nothing after that but the step she took closer to his body said more words than her mouth could and he accepted it gratefully.

-

“You can come in if you’d like,” Naomi said shyly as they stood outside the door of her hotel. Her fingers fondled her braids as she awaited his response.

Jude’s lips spread in a content smile as he nodded. “I appreciate that. Give me some time to shower and I’ll be back.”

Naomi grinned like a kid in the candy shop. They exchanged their goodbyes and she was left to freshen up and keep her mind occupied as she waited for his arrival.

Shortly after her shower, she got a phone call from Adya, whose face was filled with interest as she immediately asked, “Who is he?”

Naomi chuckled, “Well hello to you, too. And to answer your question, he’s a nice guy I befriended at dinner one day. Just showing me around the city. And before you call me a dumbass, yes I know it was dangerous.”

“As long as you know,” Adya shrugged. She then smiled softly. “Is he treating you nicely at least? Not a total creep?”

Naomi nodded. Jude was more than nice. He was incredibly kind and attentive. The thought of her leaving the following week drove her mad but she tried her best not to ponder on it too much. She’d enjoy the present moment.

“He’s a nice guy. Sucks that I’ll leave, but that’s why I’m just basking in the moment.”

Adya hummed. “If you’d like to make it work, it could be possible. Would take a lot of effort, but it could work if you both wanted it to. I think you might have to build a friendship first, though.” That drew a small laugh from Naomi who agreed wholeheartedly.

Just as she was peeped to respond, his name dropped down from a banner.

Jude

— Hey, pretty girl. I’m outside.

Adya, not blind to Naomi’s sudden grin, hollered and said, “Girl, go talk to that man and call me in the morning.”

“Bye Ady!”

Naomi tossed her phone on the bed and kept off the mattress. She patted her braids, soothed her sweatshirt, wriggled her manicured toes, and strode toward the door, opening it wide.

Jude stood on the other side, a smile on his face as he held up a dark bag. “I come bearing gifts.” Naomi moved out his way and allowed his entry. “This is a nice room.”

“Thank you. The booking company gave me hell so they upgraded me to a suite.” Naomi pointed to his bag and tilted her head to the side. “What do you have there?” She sat on the bed and he joined her.

“Heard through the grapevine you like popcorn, chocolate, and good movies.” Out of the bag came varieties of chocolate, a large bag of popcorn, and his laptop, fully equipped with any streaming service of her choice. “Figured we would watch one or two together.”

Naomi grinned like an idiot for the hundredth time that day. He was so considerate it almost hurt. Without much thought, she said, “I could kiss you right now.”

The way Jude’s eyes widened made her heart quicken but the feeling of his lips on hers shortly after caused it to nearly burst in her chest.

He was such a good kisser, she noted, appreciating how he took control yet was very gentle with her. His hands didn’t roam below her waist and he didn’t try to force his tongue down her throat. It was the perfect blend between respectful and polite and grown and sexy. Just as she liked it.

“I like you,” he whispered some time after they pulled away. Naomi’s eyes softened at his confession. She noted how he tried to catch his breath, how his cheeks were rosy from his body temperature rising, how his lips were slightly swollen and smeared with her lip gloss. He was so beautiful.

“Jude…”

He didn’t let her finish. “I like you and it’s crazy because it’s been less than 48 hours but Naomi, there’s just something about you.” Swoon. “You’ll go back home and I’ll be here, but I want to see what my life could look like with you in it. Give you a reason to come back.”

Naomi laughed lightly. Not because anything he said was funny, but because of the insanity of it all. She’d fallen head first for a man she’d known for two days and blushed at every word he said like his sentences were crafted by Shakespeare.

“I like you too,” she admitted. “And I feel crazy saying that because we’re strangers.”

Jude’s eyebrows raised as he nodded. That was the unfortunate fact, but, “We’ve got a few more days to become more than strangers.”

And that they did.

-

“Jude!” Naomi squealed as he tapped her shoulder, causing her to fall in the pool. She didn’t get the opportunity to wipe the water from her eyes before Jude jumped in beside her. She squealed loudly then giggled when he scooped her into his arms.

“That wasn’t nice,” she said, pouting playfully. She wrapped her arms around his neck. Her manicured fingers combed through the thick curls on his head, an action that made his eyes flutter. “I’m gonna get you back.”

“Is that so?” he asked, fingers caressing her thighs that were locked around his waist. Naomi nodded, eyes dropping to his lips. “Gonna have to get me first.”

Naomi, as flirtatious as ever, only has to bat her eyelashes a few times and brush her lips against his for him to crumble immediately. The perfect way to get him distracted enough to wriggle herself from his grip and dunk his head into the water.

“Oof!”

Her laugh was loud and boisterous, but he enjoyed hearing it all the same. Jude wiped his eyes when he came up from the water and gave her a look. Naomi giggled as she tried to back away, but her movement was restricted by the water.

Once again, she was scooped into his arms. “You play dirty,” he said. “I like it.”

Naomi smiled. The feelings she felt with him were unlike anything she’d ever experienced before. Her face always hurt from smiling, she felt giddy whenever he arrived at her door or called her phone. How would she possibly be able to deal with the distance?

-

“I’ve got to go, Jude, or I’ll miss my flight,” Naomi whispered, tugging her hand out of his grasp gently. “I’ve got to go.”

The dreaded day had arrived. Naomi had to go back home and they’d be without each other (physically) until their schedules aligned again. It was something neither of them wanted to think of but like always, time brought reality back to them.

“I don’t want you to go,” the footballer admitted, swinging their hands back and forth. Naomi smiled sadly, using her free hand to caress his face.

“I don’t want to go either, but we’ll call, text, and FaceTime as much as we can, and we’ll figure it out. We can figure it out.”

Jude’s lips parted to respond but her flight being called over the speakers cut him off. He sighed heavily. Naomi bit her lip to pierce her quivering lips. “I’ll miss you.”

“I’ll miss you,” Jude replied. He pressed a kiss against her lips.“Call me when you land, alright?” Naomi nodded and took her roller bag in her hand and began to walk toward her gate.

“Bye Jude.”

He waved sadly.“I’ll see you soon, Naomi.”

-

Liked by adyajalyn, judeb, judebellingham, and 673 others

naomisinclair until next time, madrid.

View 12 comments.

User has limited comments on this post.

adyajalyn favs

naomisinclair and judebellingham liked your comment!

— alexandraaaaa you knew she got a footballer fr in madrid and didn’t say anything??!

— adyajalyn wasn’t my tea to spill 🌚

judebellingham 🩵

— naomisinclair can’t wait to see u again

judebellingham liked your comment!

— judebellingham in due time, love

naomisinclair liked your comment!

saturnville and so it begins!

-

[henneseyhoe]

Still Mine.

Tyrone x BLACK!FEM!Reader

WARNINGS: Tyrone being a slut, baby daddy drama, smutty flashback, slight daddy kink, unprotected sex(wrap it before you smack it!), abortion mentioned, pill mentioned, baby trapping, short, tad bit unedited.

SUMMARY: During Tyrone’s weekly pickup of his daughter, he tries to make his baby mama fold.

Ps. This was originally SO much longer but I didn’t like the way some parts were written so I cut it in half lolzzz

✮✮✮✮

“You know if I licked it, it’s mine, right?”

Your face twisted into a mug at Tyrone’s words while packing a diaper bag with all the necessary things your daughter needed for the weekend with him.

“Tyrone, please don’t start with that tonight” You couldn’t believe the extents he’d go just because you were seeing other people, it was crazy! Tyrone didn’t see it that way though.

The man was a tyrant. A danger to society and other men when he suspects you fucking with somebody who wasn’t him. Every single time he found out, he would let you know that you had limited days with that nigga, which he was always right about.

They’d either disappear completely or simply just stop responding to your texts.

One time you saw one of them at the grocery store and tried to say hi but he ran the other way, even left his cart stacked with groceries. You wondered what the hell was going on, and why they were so scared, but you knew there was only one person that could have them running for the hills like that, and it wasn’t you.

“I’m not startin’ shit, I’m speakin’ facts. You playin’, knowing them niggas ain’t shit compared to me”

Though the statement was true, it was bold of him to assume you wasn’t getting any good play. It was rare you did, but still! It’s the audacity.

You look at Tyrone up and down before bursting into laughter, making the infant besides you both slightly jump in her pack and play, looking around in confusion before flipping over on her stomach, a skill she just learned.

“Oop- I’m sorry, mama” You apologize to her, the baby just rolling back over and blinking up at you with a tether in her mouth. “Now, back to yo’ delusional ass!”

You thanked god the small child wasn’t old enough to understand words because she would have been cursing like a sailor by now. Pointing at Tyrone with the acrylic nails he paid for, that same signature mean look on his face that he always wore when somebody had him fucked up, you squint.

“Ain’t shit yours, and it hasn’t been yours since about a year now”

Tyrone sucks his teeth, still not believing anything you were saying to him.

“You shittin’ me, it’s always gon be mine!”

“Says who?! You crazy” You blow him off with the wave of your hand, zipping the diaper bag up and handing it to him.

He grabs it, then drops it to his feet without a care, crossing his arms. You look at him with a confused expression, your eyebrow cocked upwards.

“Why you like playin’ wit’ me?” He questioned while straight faced, but you stood your ground, unlike when you use to submit under him and his tone when you two were together. Truthfully, you use to be a bit scared of the nigga. He never gave you a reason to be personally, but he was a hard shell to crack, you rarely knew if he was happy or sad until he said something to steer you in a certain direction.

“Tyrone, quit playing and find you something safe to do, aight?” You fired back, challenging him. He moved not one inch. You knew he wasn’t scared of you at all, so this was no surprise, but you wasn’t gonna take him treating you like this in your own damn house.

“How many niggas you fucked since we broke up, Y/N?”

You shrug. “However many I wanted. I dunno, I wasn’t counting”

“Okay” He nods slowly, putting you on edge just a tad bit. You hum and study his reaction. He only did that when he had some shit up his sleeve. A simple answer, then a nod before he did or said some fuck shit. “And if I find them niggas and suddenly they stop callin’, then what?” Nothing he hasn’t done before.

“One less problem for me. You already pack up enough niggas in the glen anyway. Can’t kill ‘em all!” You giggle childishly after gaining your composure again, but as you found humor, the man stayed oh so serious.

“Oh, you’d be surprised at what a nigga can do now”

“Lemme guess, you learned to read a no loitering sign? Or maybe a no trespassing one?” You continued to joke, him finding nothing funny, as usual.

“You think you so funny” He warns, but you brush him off again, picking the diaper bag up and handing it to him again, this time forcing it in his hands to keep it there.

“I’m fuckin’ hilarious, nigga. better ask bout me”

Tyrone rolls his eyes.

“…so you really tellin’ me youn miss me?”

You turn and walk away to ignore the man further, side eyeing him as he followed. “Get out my face, Ty”

“Stop playin…so youn miss how I use to beat that pussy till you cry?” He spoke, getting closer to your ear so you could hear every syllable there. See, if this was a year and some change ago, you would have folded yourself in on a couch and put your legs to the sky faster than a pin could drop, but you had a point to prove.

You inched away from him to your kitchen, but he followed behind like a hungry shark that smelled blood.

“Let daddy dig that pussy out again, baby. You know I do it better than any other nigga”

Just with those few words, it had you thinking of flashbacks, your eyes fighting off a roll inwards. You knew the power he held in those boxers, you knew all too well what he was capable of. When Tyrone got to the pussy, he made sure he wasn’t playing no games. The man would even pull your bed from the wall everytime he came over so nobody in your moms house could hear how hard he was beating it up, talking dirty to you like you was a random bitch from the club, and that was your favorite part. That’s how you got into this mess anyway. Stuck with him and a tiny human who stole your face.

✮✮✮✮

Tyrone was definitely a man of threats, but he had never fallen through with any of the non-violent ones till this.

As Tyrone bucked his hips wildly into you, your leg began to quiver in his hold. You had thanked the gods that he had opted to lay you down on your side instead of fucking you standing up like he loved to do. You were sure your legs would have gave out by now if you were upright.

“Imma nut in this pussy, baby. Can daddy nut in this pussy? You want daddy to get you pregnant?”

He asks, and you nodded gladly like a dummy. Whatever the female version of pussy whipped was, you were definitely long past it. Even in that moment, you thought he wasn’t serious about the whole baby thing. He had never talked about one outside of sex, and you honestly thought he was against the entire idea of kids with the way he’d run junebug out of his presence when he’d do normal kid shit. He just didn’t seem serious.

Hell, you knew you weren’t serious about it. What would you do with a baby in this economy? Most importantly, how the fuck were you gonna care for it? You were only 21 and he was 24, had no business being together, but obviously he wasn’t the type to follow rules of any kind, or let you go.

The more he promised to get you pregnant, the harder y’all fucked until you were on top, riding him like there was a prize at the finish line you called an orgasm. Your hands were placed on his thighs behind you and your back was arched in as you spread your legs wide and bounced that ass on him, giving him the perfect opportunity to see himself slip in and out of you.

“Shit…shit! I’m bout to cum!” He shouts while panting, a few groans exiting his mouth.

“Fuuuck! I’m bout to nut, bae!” You heard him announce once again, but that wasn’t what set off alarms in your head, it was when he held you down and continued thrusting upwards into your wetness, making you leak. You whimper and shout, toes curling into the mattress.

“Shit! Lemme get up, Ty!” You tap his hands, trying to get them off of your hips so you could move, but he continues to bounce you with his fingers gripping you tightly, bound to leave a mark. “Tyrone! lemme get up, please!” You shout with urgency, but it had already been too late. By the time you rose up off of his dick, he had been pumping out the last bit of his seed, the small amount just sliding down the shaft of his dick. That’s when you knew you fucked up. Tyrone was a shooter in more ways than one, but when it came to cumming, he was damn near like a loaded gun. You’d have to squeeze your eyes shut when giving him head because he liked to cum on your face, and the first time he did, he almost blinded you with how far he came, literally.

“My god…” You breathed harshly, looking down at his dick begin to soften.

When it was all said and done, you asked him for money for a plan B, but lo and behold, he already had a pill prepared. Right in the glove compartment of his car is where he kept it and gave it to you when he came to see you the next day. But, as the weeks went by, you started to feel like that pill wasn’t much of a plan B, or at least not your “plan B”. It was definitely Tyrone’s though.

Days turned into weeks, weeks turned into months, and nine of those later, you were popping out a little girl with a full head of hair and features just like yours. If you told somebody you made the baby alone, they’d probably believe you with how much you two looked alike. You were pissed off your entire pregnancy at Tyrone, but that didn’t stop you from loving your baby, you just couldn’t bring yourself to get rid of her either, though the process wasn’t foreign to you. If the “plan B” didn’t take her out, then who says she wasn’t meant to be here? But, with that being said, as you came closer to your due date, you grew farther from Tyrone while he was trying to keep you close, you even moved out of the glen and into a whole ‘nother town over.

He was there through your entire pregnancy, or at least tried when you weren’t trying to kill him for getting into stupid shit and almost dying, but because he was still so supportive and caring for you, checking up on how both you and the baby were doing, you cut him some slack, letting him name the bouncing baby girl. He went with the name ‘Autum’ because you two met in autumn, to your surprise he even remembered that since it had been so long ago.

Fast forward five months later, y’all were still beefing on and off over stupid shit. You would curse him out over scaring away new friends and or lovers, he’d ignore it and continue, working extra hard to make sure all them niggas knew who he was. Oh, Tyrone was on a mission, and he would not be ignored by some lame nigga you wanted to fuck, or ignored by you.

✮✮✮✮