#blue eyes daniel x reader
Text
Muse
Fandom: Rush
Rating: Explicit
Relationship: Niki Lauda x reader
Warnings: Some time period typical misogyny, heavy flirting, rough sex, semi-public handjob, road head, semi-public blowjob, oral (m and f receiving), deep-throating, face-fucking, vaginal fingering, soft femdom, soft bondage, switch Niki, switch reader, cum-eating, cum as lube, use of protection (condoms, birth control pills), lack of protection, pull-out method, possessive Niki, enthusiastic consent, consensual somnophilia, consensual free use, woman on top, mating press, breeding kink resulting in pregnancy.
Only a favour could ever get you onto one of these hellspawn racetracks. Only Tony fucking Olsworth, your oldest friend in the world, your biggest mentor, and the man who first helped you sell your photographs to some of the most prestigious newspapers across the world could get you to the Argentina Grand Prix. He was the first person to ever see you for who you were and what you could do, and believe in the success of both. Talent recognizes talent, afterall. Tony saw you, saw how good your eye was, and helped you get to where you were today. So, of course, when he broke his arm and bruised a couple of ribs in an accident and couldn’t fulfil a contract for photographs of the first Formula One race of the 1975 season, he knew exactly who to call. The only person in the world he would trust to take over for him, despite never having done any photography for driving.
You were fresh off of taking some award-winning photos for the MLB World Series in October, followed by a month of chasing insane assholes around the world while they did nonsense like free-climbing and hang gliding. Despite not being your usual niche, National Geographic paid quite a bit for the photographs along with your colleague Miguel Amalia’s multi-page spread article. You’d been hoping for a bit of a break before the start of the new year - plenty of sports took place in the early half of the year, and you had plans to be at the best of the best. You were going to go to the spa, pamper yourself, maybe even go to a few galleries.
Until Tony.
“Look at you, doll! You look wonderful. Not at all like you’ve been scrambling up mountains god knows where and camping in the wilderness. And look at you now, in beautiful Argentina, at the start of the season of the best sport in the world!” The older man cheers at the sight of you, champagne in one hand, the other in a cast from wrist to shoulder. You don’t know how he could possibly be so happy considering his broken arm and bruised ribs, but Tony’s always been a strange one. Despite not having to be here, and having you as his official replacement, he still showed up, his white-blond hair perfectly coiffed back to show off a round, cheerful face. The crows feet around his hazel eyes wrinkle further as he offers you a pearly-white, toothy smile, and you can’t help but smile at his jolly face. He’s here both to show you around, and because he hadn’t missed a Formula One race in years. He was a fan as well as a photographer.
“You’re delusional, Tony, honey, you must be getting sunstroke. There are far more entertaining sports out there where two people don’t die per season.” You retort, walking with him as he leads you through the facility and explains the different teams to you. He’s dressed for the warm weather in a salmon shirt and khaki shorts, the material breezy and loose for good air flow. You’re only half listening if you’re being perfectly honest, distracted by the sights of drivers and mechanics scurrying around cars. If nothing else, the colours will pop well in photographs.
“I want you to see the qualifying races so you can understand some of this a little better, and get the timing down. It’s a good time to get to know the drivers as well. Brabham are the ones to watch this year, you just wait and see.” Tony explains, and you hum noncommittally, “Carlos Reutemann and Carlos Pace. Argentina and Brazil respectively. This is Reutemann’s home Grand Prix.”
You nod along with Tony, looking at the drivers he points out, until he gets called away by a reporter he knows for a quick chat. He tries to bring you along, but you excuse yourself from the conversation, wandering instead. One thing you can say for Formula One in comparison to other sports is that the drivers are very different from other athletes. It’s nice to see some variation for once, though you notice throughout the drivers themselves a somewhat similar aesthetic cropping up. From a distance, you notice a dark blond, delightfully curly-haired man in a red racing suit with rather striking features. Eyes a piercing blue, a fairly obvious overbite that pushes his upper lip out in an endearing manner and makes his chin look somewhat weak in comparison, and gorgeous facial structure. Statuesque, almost, like he should’ve been sculpted from marble. He’s thin, and not particularly tall as is typical of drivers, but he looks almost soft in a way that appeals to you.
Not stereotypically pretty, certainly, but interesting. And isn’t that what you crave most of all? Some small spark in this drab, grey world of people who all seem to always try and look exactly alike? Isn’t that why you refused to go into advertising photography despite the good pay and the many offers you received? So many people nip and tuck away their unique features that would make them interesting. Crooked teeth or gaps, freckles and moles, big or crooked noses, strong brows, weak chins, sallow cheeks, belly fat or loose skin. All of it is so much more compelling than symmetry or median appearances. You loathe being bored, and frankly, you find a certain boringness in attractiveness. That’s why you let your passion (and fear, frankly) drag you up the sides of mountains, to countless countries all across the world, even in the worst weather imaginable. That’s why despite disliking extreme sports, you still accept contracts to photograph them, accepting the risk to both the athletes and yourself. You’re only human, and a selfish one at that.
Your camera is in your hands before you even notice what you’re doing, and you steady yourself carefully, adjusting your settings to account for the bright day and distance. The man, whoever he is, pushes his hair out of his eyes as he examines his car, and you grin as you get a rather lovely shot of him laughing at something a nearby mechanic says to him. He turns slightly and you notice his suit is undone to the waist, exposing his lovely tummy and a delicious amount of body hair that you can’t help but snap a photo of. You’re completely in the zone, oblivious to the world around you when Tony steps up beside you.
“Ahh, I see you’ve met our King Rat.” Your mentor hums pleasantly, and you blink, lowering the camera so you can peer at him in stunned confusion.
“The who?” You ask, figuring you’ve misheard him. Tony raises his eyebrows at you like he thinks you might be a bit daft, then gestures with his champagne glass widely towards the man you’ve instinctively locked in on.
“Niki Lauda, darling. He’s a driver for Ferrari, with Clay Regazzoni as his teammate. The dark-haired chap with the ‘stache. They call Lauda the Austrian Rat.” Tony explains, then gestures towards his mouth with a grimace, “You know, his unfortunate… well, overbite situation.”
Your head tilts, and you stare blankly at your oldest friend for several moments before looking around you at the rest of the people at the Grand Prix. Press, drivers, officials, mechanics and countless other people involved in making Formula One run smoothly. Countless people who must be intelligent to be able to keep this all running with minimal hiccups.
“All of them? Call him this?” You clarify, and Tony must register your shock for he clears his throat a little and looks mildly ashamed of himself.
“Well, yes, it’s not a very kind nickname but it is extremely common… unfortunately, of course. Poor chap probably doesn’t deserve it, even if he is known to be a bit of an asshole.”
You look around again, then lift your camera to peer at who you now know to be Niki Lauda, finding him frowning at a man in a similarly vibrant red racing suit to his. Clay Regazzoni, then, you put together the obvious context clues - the man certainly has a well-groomed moustache. Even with an unimpressed look on his face, Lauda is still striking, and you snap another photo of him leaning into the seat of the car to examine something before looking at Tony again.
“Is everyone in this horrid sport brainless? I’ve met more intelligent boxers, and they get punched in the face for a living.” You muse, and Tony laughs into his champagne, spluttering as he chokes on it.
“I think the point is for them to not get punched in the head, my dear.” He corrects you, and you roll your eyes. As you go back to your camera, Tony observes you, finishing off his glass, “Are you intending on taking photos of anyone other than the rat today?”
You scoff, taking a picture of the two Ferrari drivers together talking over their cars, gesturing somewhat animatedly, “Certainly, the moment one of them does anything even remotely interesting.”
Tony peers around the garages as if looking for something to contradict your blatant disinterest with, then follows your gaze.
“So, Niki Lauda standing still, talking to his teammate while gazing wistfully at his car is more interesting than any of the other drivers who might be doing the same thing?” Tony asks, and you can tell that he’s trying to make a point, but you’re not really interested in hearing him out when you know what he’s going to say.
“He’s actually compelling to look at, so yes.” You retort, and Tony exhales a laugh, fondness and amusement mixing with his annoyance to soften it nearly entirely.
“Alright, darling, take some photos of the other teams so you have at least something to sell that isn’t a photo of Lauda. Take some pictures of the Brabham team, maybe that handsome young Hunt chap that everyone is so riled up about, and then you can go back to stalking the Ferrari garage. At least you’ve found something to keep your interest in the races - I was a little nervous I might have to bribe you into paying attention.”
It’s good advice, and you know you’re meant to be taking photos for Tony, but it takes genuine effort to rip your gaze away from the Austrian driver. Tony leads you towards the Brabham area, and you obediently take several good photos of both Pace and Reutemann. Tony even takes the time to introduce you to them, and you pretend to listen while they discuss Tony’s injury. They’re nice enough, though you can blatantly tell that they’re only indulging you because you’re a woman.
This is a trend that repeats several times. Tony leads you from garage to garage, and most of the drivers are either nice enough to pose for photos, let you take candids, or tell you to stay out of their way. You’re not offended by the brusqueness. They’re preparing for a Grand Prix qualifier. Tony might not mind bothering the drivers while they’re obviously busy, but he has a relationship with most of these men. He’s known them for years.
As you meander your way through, Tony tells you which drivers will likely hit on you, preparing you so you’re not shocked. He even indicates a couple he doesn’t recommend being alone with for any length of time, though he tells you that’s for your comfort and not because he truly believes you’d be in any real danger. You’re pleased to find neither Ferrari driver on either of those lists.The Hesketh garage is abuzz as you approach it, and you raise an eyebrow sceptically at Tony, who leans in to your ear.
“James Hunt is the driver they’re all interested in. He has a lively fanbase, with a high female audience. Handsome, charming… Tall, even, for Formula One.” Tony muses, and you spot the blond in question. He’s stereotypically handsome, certainly. Blue eyes, long blond shaggy hair that looks well-maintained and soft, and enough muscle that he probably looks a little funny getting into one of those tiny Formula One cars paired with his height. His smile is wide and suave revealing nice, white teeth. Tony hasn’t met Hunt yet, but he leads you through the crowd and introduces you to a couple of mechanics he knows. Eventually, James catches your eye, and his smile reaches his eyes as he marches over. He greets Tony in a friendly way, clearly knowing him by reputation even if they haven’t met, a hand clapped gently on his cast. He expresses seemingly sincere regrets that Tony won’t be able to take photos of the race, but Tony reminds him that that simply means he gets to relax and enjoy it while you do all the work, directing the blond’s attention towards you.
“And who might this be?” Hunt asks, holding out his hand for you. When you take it to give him a handshake, he rotates it to kiss the back of your hand, and you snort.
“This work for you often, Mr. Hunt?” You ask, gently pulling your hand free and introducing yourself. He doesn’t seem put off by your dismissal of his attentions. If anything, he takes it in stride, immediately taking the clear no and getting back to business. He’s an agreeable man, letting you take all the photos you want, though you notice he struggles with letting you take candids. His awareness of the camera is almost preternatural, and you have to be particularly careful about staying out of his eyeline to get anything you’re particularly happy with. It’s a common issue - if people know you’re taking photos, they want to look their best. You don’t blame him.
Finally, Tony leads you back towards the Ferrari garage, and you sigh with relief that you won’t be wasting your entire roll of film. He keeps walking, though, closer and closer until you’re just outside of the barriers. You freeze up, snapping at Tony that you don’t want to meet this team, but he grins widely at you, his hand like a vice around your wrist.
“Come along, darling, don’t be impolite.” He teases, and you barely refrain from hissing at him like a child.
“Clay, my friend! I’ve come to wish you good luck, and introduce you to my colleague.” Tony says loudly as he approaches, and you barely wiggle your hand free before the moustached driver walks over with a friendly smile. He hugs Tony, slapping him on the back gently, then holding his cast.
“What is this? I was hoping the news about your accident was wrong.”
“I know, I know, a tragedy. I won’t be able to make you look good for once. Luckily, I brought along a dear friend who will hopefully do you justice.” Tony gestures to you, and you hold out your hand to Clay as you introduce yourself. He doesn’t try to kiss your knuckles, though you see the instinct flash in his eyes before he thinks better of it. You like him more just for that.
“A pleasure to meet you. I look best from the left, remember that.” Clay teases, and you can’t help but laugh. He’s pretty charming, in a different way than Hunt was, “Have you met Niki yet? Niki! Come socialise, it’s good for you.”
You stiffen at Tony’s side. You always hate meeting your muses for the first time, hesitant to have their allure ruined the minute they open their mouth. The Austrian driver steps out of the garage, a bottle of water in hand which he drinks from as he approaches. He looks as hesitant to meet you as you are to meet him. A certain shyness takes him over, and you examine him curiously, since he didn’t seem to have any issues with his teammate or mechanics earlier. Tony reaches out to greet Niki and introduces himself, then claps you on the back and pushes you forwards.
“My friend here will be subbing in for me, taking pictures of the race so that I don’t get a slap on the wrist. This is her first Formula One race, but she’s an accomplished sports photographer, so I think she’ll manage just fine.” Tony gives your shoulder a little shake, and you hold out your hand to Niki, who seems to hesitate for a moment before he takes your hand to brush his lips across your knuckles with the tiniest hint of a bow. Your cheeks are on fire, and you hope it isn’t obvious - you are a grown adult woman and you are not going to get flustered over a driver. And if you do, you’re going to hide it as best as you can. You freeze in place, not pulling your hand away until he drops it, and you squeeze your thighs together in a way you hope isn’t too obvious.
“A pleasure.” Niki says, and his accent is thick like molasses, sending a shiver up your spine. You smile at him, introducing yourself and trying not to wilt under Clay’s intense, almost knowing scrutiny. This is why you hate meeting your muses - you always feel so self-conscious, as if every act is under scrutiny. It doesn’t help that you’re actually attracted to this muse. Normally, it’s a platonic appreciation for someone’s form or the way they move, but Niki Lauda was a case of his own and you had to admit it, at least to yourself.
You wonder briefly if he has a girlfriend, and if he’s one of those athletes that tends to plough their way through their fans. You don’t notice a ring, but you know that that doesn’t mean anything in sports - rings interfere in many sports, and plenty of athletes don’t wear them even if they’re happily engaged in a committed monogamous marriage. You’d ask Tony, but you’re sure he’d make you regret it.
“Not to worry, Niki, she won’t be hounding you for candids. I think she’s already got nearly a whole film roll of them by now.” Tony muses, and your eyes go wide as saucers while Niki simply looks confused.
“Tony.” You say warningly, but he ignores you.
“Perhaps she’ll spare a bit of her film for the other drivers.” He teases you, nudging your arm, and you grab Tony by his ear, earning a yelp from him.
“Excuse me, please.” You mutter to Clay and Niki, dragging Tony only a few feet away before giving him a gentle smack to his good arm.
“You’re going to make him think you’re making fun of him, not making fun of me, Tony. It’s rude. I can take a good ribbing, but you will NOT make other people uncomfortable to embarrass me, are we clear? Or I will walk off this track and you can find someone else to take these race photos for you. Am I understood?” You scold him, finger jabbing into his chest, and he looks suitably apologetic.
“I didn’t think of it like that.” Tony admits, and you jab him one more time.
“Of course you didn’t. Tease me all you like, but don’t involve other people in it. All you lot call him a rat - he doesn’t know that I think you’re all a bunch of idiots. He probably thinks I was making fun of him as well.” You put your hands on your hips, huffing at Tony while he apologises. You walk back over to the barrier, offering Niki what you hope is a sincere and reassuring smile.
“You’ll do well in your race. I won’t say good luck, since you don’t need it.” You inform him, then grin cheekily and wink at Clay.
“Good luck.” You tease as you wave at them and start to walk away, “Bye boys. Enjoy your race thing.”
~
Tony apologises to Niki once you’re out of earshot, and Clay grins widely at his teammate, nudging him a couple of times, seemingly thrilled with this new development.
“You’ve got an admirer.” Clay informs him, and Niki scoffs, watching you walk away. He observes in silence as you crouch, snapping a couple of photos of another driver before he finally tears his gaze away. Clay claps him on the back and turns to Tony.
“So, she was taking pictures of Niki?” Clay presses, and Tony glances at you as if to make sure you’re far enough away before he agrees.
“She likes people with interesting features. She finds a lot of people… well, boring, I suppose. She told me once that I’d look boring too if my cheeks weren’t so round.” Tony admits, and Clay snorts, “when we got here, she took notice of Mr. Lauda over here. I’ll admit, she doesn’t usually like meeting people she finds interesting like that, so I brought her over here to tease her a little.”
Niki looks away from Tony, watching you as you walk towards the press area, pausing briefly to snap a couple of photos of seemingly random things. He’s soon knocked out of his thoughts by Clay bumping him on the arm as Tony departs, and he says a quick goodbye before heading into the garage to get his head in the game.
~
The walk back towards the press ring is long, and you stop several times to take photos along the way, several of which you think might just earn you a pretty penny. You crouch to take a photo of a neighbouring driver from below, highlighting him against the sun in a way that you think could be beautiful. Thank god you wore bell bottoms today instead of a skirt - you’d never be able to get these kinds of shots without flashing someone.
Tony rejoins you soon enough, a little subdued, though he snaps out of it when you tell him you’re actually kind of enjoying yourself. He promises that by the end of the first Grand Prix, you’ll be hooked, and begging him to take you along for the rest of the season. You remind him that you have a strict ‘no begging’ policy, and that you’d just get your own contract if you really wanted to stick around. Tony isn’t bothered, of course, just thrilled to have you interested in his favourite sport. He gives you earplugs, and you both watch the qualifiers, with Tony pointing out tips and tricks for getting good photos. He doesn’t even tease you when it becomes clear that your best ones are of Lauda, though you know it isn’t the last you’ve heard on that matter.
With the qualifiers finished and pole position set, you depart from the track with Tony and head for the dark room you’ve rented space in near your hotel. You spend a good few hours there, but by the end of it, you’ve got several pieces you just know are going to make you a hell of a lot of money, aside from just what you’re getting from Tony. You secure your film and developed photographs, and spend the rest of your evening on the phone with a couple of your contacts, selling your photographs and earning yourself a paid trip around the world following the Formula One races.
You send off several photos to a couple of publications via express mail early the next morning on your way to the track, though your spirits are dampened by the fact that Tony left a message at the front desk for you - he’s sick, and he won’t be able to come to the race today. You have no goddamn clue how you’ll find your way around despite being there just yesterday, but you suck it up, putting on a rather lovely cream button-up shirt dress with a belted waist, suitable heels that you can walk in, and over-sized sunglasses.
You’re early to the track simply because you had to leave so early to get your mail out, and plenty of the drivers aren’t there yet. You slip out of the taxi and, admittedly, meander around for a little while trying to refamiliarize yourself. The track is busier today, even this early, and you find yourself just a little lost without Tony there to guide you. Maybe you should’ve paid more attention when he was showing you around yesterday, but how were you supposed to know he was going to get sick? The man HATED missing even a single race.
“Hey!”
You nearly jump out of your skin as a loud, familiar voice calls out to you, accent thick and instantly recognizable. You freeze like a child caught with their hand in a cookie jar despite knowing full well that you’re allowed to be here, and you swear you hear the faintest chuckle from the Austrian driver. And they called him ‘cold and serious’ in the articles you read about his unique start in Formula One last season.
“Hello Niki.” You hum as you turn to face him, pushing your sunglasses up to rest on top of your head. He’s dressed in a short sleeve button-up shirt the same colour as his eyes, and jeans that you struggle to hide your appreciation for. It’s a simple outfit, but something about seeing him out of his racing suit is attractive. His pretty dark blond hair is pushed back out of his face, curls thankfully not brushed out, and he looks hesitant to be approaching you. You almost wish you kept the sunglasses on so you could eye him up without it being so obvious.
“You’re lost.” He accuses, and you laugh, shrugging your shoulders sheepishly.
“Is it that obvious?”
“Yes. You’ve been walking around aimlessly.” Niki retorts, and you snicker at his bluntness, stepping closer to him with a warm smile.
“Help a girl out? I wasn’t paying much attention to Tony’s tour yesterday, and I can’t remember where I’m supposed to be.” You offer the driver your best doe eyes, and it only takes him a moment of consideration before he closes the distance between you and offers you his arm. It’s a dash old-fashioned, but you let him play the gentleman, gripping his bicep in your hand and pressing into his side. He leads you towards the track at an even pace, casual and unhurried, and you admittedly find yourself appreciating his gentlemanly behaviour as you hold his elbow and his bicep presses against your breasts.
“Clay told me that you’re helping the man from yesterday. That you don’t normally take photos for Formula One.” Niki comments, and you agree quietly, “You don’t enjoy the sport.”
You laugh, pleasantly surprised by his straightforwardness and unable to help the fondness bubbling in your gut. You don’t try to lie to him to save face. You wish more people would just say what they meant.
“No, I don’t. You risk your lives for very little reward. Frankly, I think it’s unnecessary, and I prefer sports where I don’t have to be terrified that I’m going to watch someone I’ve taken pictures of die in a horrific accident.” You reply honestly, “however, I’ve been taking photos of more extreme sports lately, and while I still think it’s stupid, I have taken some very beautiful pictures. So perhaps it is not all bad.”
Niki is quiet for a moment, and a quick glance tells you he’s thinking about what you said rather than ignoring you. His arm flexes under your hand, and you give him a gentle squeeze, instinctively trying for soothing.
“There is a limit to the risk I accept. But what would life be like if we only did what was necessary?” Niki asks, and you hum thoughtfully, considering that as you walk with him. You examine his face from the side, trusting him implicitly not to lead you astray, and wish you could get your camera out and snap a photo of him from your current angle. It’s a very nice view. From this perspective, you wonder how anyone could ever call him a rat.
“Boring.” You decide, and you see a hint of a smile tug at his lips, a flash of white teeth peeking out. You grin, proud of the reaction you’ve earned yourself, and finally tune into your surroundings only to find yourself approaching the Ferrari garage, “Niki, dear, have you kidnapped me without me even realising?”
The Austrian driver cracks another smile at that, shaking his head as he leads you into the garage, not bothering to answer your teasing. Several mechanics look up at you with a hint of impressed confusion before getting back to their work, and Niki pulls out a chair for you, so you finally release his arm. You put your camera bags on the table to get them out of your way, then sit at the table with a wide smile.
“You’re early for the race. If you would rather wait out with the press and get a sunburn, go ahead.”
“Well, aren’t you thoughtful?” You coo, and he doesn’t answer you, looking hesitant once again. You dig through your bag, pulling out a stiff manila envelope filled with cardboard backing to protect its contents from bending, and hand it to the driver, “One of my favourite photos from yesterday. I hoped you might like it.”
Niki looks at the envelope but doesn’t open it, and you smile at his obvious shyness.
“I’m sure you’ve got to go get changed, right? I’ll wait right here. And I won’t snoop or anything. Your boys will keep me honest, won’t you, boys?” You ask the mechanics, one of whom laughs and mutters something under his breath that you’re sure isn’t appropriate, though it doesn’t sound malicious. You let it be, certain you’ve heard worse, and Niki looks hesitant to leave you alone but eventually begins to back away.
“I won’t be long.” He promises, and you smile pleasantly, waggling your fingers at him. Some of the mechanics keep looking at you, but you keep your pleasant expression, sitting pretty as you wait. You know that teams can be pretty tight-lipped about their secrets, so you keep to yourself to avoid the semblance of being nosy or trying to find a story. You’re not a journalist anyways, you’re a photographer. You don’t really care about their trade secrets.
“Well, well, well, look at who I’ve found.”
You turn in your seat to grin at James Hunt as he enters the Ferrari garage, nodding to the mechanics, then looking around quickly as if searching for his friend and rival.
“Hello James. Niki’s just getting changed.” You inform him, getting up to shake his hand, pleased when he doesn’t try to kiss it again.
“Ahh, he is, is he? Did he give you a ride this morning?” James asks, and you laugh as you sit back down, unable to help yourself despite the very obvious and rude implication. He’s cheeky, but he’s charming enough to get away with it. You’re not offended, anyways - you’d happily spend a night in Lauda’s bed if he invited you.
“No, James, I took a taxi from my hotel. I was far too busy in the darkroom developing my photos last night to be entertaining Mr. Lauda. Not that it’s any of your business, you nosy twat. Anyways, I’m sure you both left the track at around the same time, so you know I didn’t leave with him.” You retort, and Hunt snickers, giving you a pat on the shoulder.
“I know. I was just messing with you. I wanted to see if you’d get angry.” He admits, pulling a chair over and sitting on it backwards, his arms crossed on the back of it, “So, why’re you in the Ferrari garage?”
You grin sheepishly.
“Niki rescued me from my own lack of directional skills.” You reply, and at Hunt’s raised eyebrow, you continue, “I got lost, and he stumbled upon me and took pity.”
An understanding hum escapes Hunt, and he rubs the lower half of his face as he considers your excuse. He murmurs to himself, almost like he’s lost in thought, “Right… he did, did he?”
You raise an eyebrow at the shaggy blond, “Not common for him to help out a lady in need?”
James shakes his head immediately, waving a hand as if to swipe that thought away.
“No, no, Niki’s a good man, and a gentleman with the ladies. It’s just a little peculiar for him to bring someone into the garage with him.”
“He told me I could go wait in the press area and get sunburnt instead.” You remark, and Hunt laughs.
“So, I assume you’re cheering on the rat, then? I won’t hear your lovely voice shouting my name from the stands?” He teases playfully, and you roll your eyes.
“I’m a very professional photographer, thank you very much, sir. I will be taking photos of as many drivers as I can, and I will be very happy for anyone who wins,” You retort, and James raises an eyebrow with a wide grin, sensing there’s more to come, “however, if my camera malfunctions and they happen to look a bit drab in their photos, it certainly won’t be because they beat Niki and I’m a bit of a vindictive bitch.”
You giggle as James gives a loud, brash laugh, pleasantly surprised. You lean forwards a little in your seat, and Hunt looks away from you briefly before grinning brighter. God, he’s like the sun, it’s almost unnerving.
“So, what is it about the rat that’s got your knickers in a twist?” He asks, and you raise an eyebrow at him with a disbelieving snort.
“First, that’s wholly inappropriate talk in the presence of a lady, so go fuck yourself, darling. Second, why is everyone so goddamned surprised? He’s handsome, whether you blind idiots can see it or not. Far less boring to look at than you lot.” You retort, and James touches his heart and gives a pouty hiss as if wounded, “His facial structure is lovely - high, strong cheekbones, a well-defined jawline, wonderful little nose, and yes, an overbite. I find it quite endearing, frankly. He has nice lips, and his eyes are beautiful. I like his curls. And his arm felt sturdy and supportive under mine when he guided me here.”
James listens, a hint of softness in his eyes as you go on about his close friend and rival, though his ulterior motive is exposed when Niki steps fully into the room and sets a bottle of water on the table beside you. You nearly jump out of your skin, and your brows pull together as you connect the dots, then turn a scowl on James. He puts his hands up, then smiles at Niki.
“I just came to check in. Looks like you’re doing fine. I’ll see you on the track.”
And then he’s gone, leaving you alone with the man who most certainly just overheard you complimenting him quite liberally. Normally, you like to think you’ve got quite a strong backbone. You don’t get embarrassed easily. You’re fairly self-confident, and you can stand up for yourself.
Not today.
“I should go to the press area if I want to get a good spot.” You practically squeak, and Niki raises an eyebrow at you. He opens his mouth to speak, but you’re already moving, shouldering your camera bags and pressing a quick kiss to his cheek before he can get a word out.
“I won’t say good luck, since you don’t need it. See you later.” You shout over your shoulder as you practically dart from the garage, your cheeks on fire as you flee. You think you vaguely hear Niki shout something behind you, but you’re already too far to make it out, and you’re too embarrassed to stop or go back. You reach the press area and get set up, talking with a few of the reporters and photographers you know. Taking the cues Tony had given you, you take some pretty fantastic pictures of the race, including one of Niki during a pitstop, Hunt finishing the race in a spectacular second place, and Niki finishing in fourth. You take photos of the winners, deftly avoiding the spray of champagne, and fleeing to the parking lot to consider how you’re going to get home.
Part of you considers waiting for Niki and asking if you can get a ride back to your hotel with him, but the other part of you that’s still a little embarrassed and very unsure about how the Austrian man might react to your fawning holds you back, and you end up calling a taxi. Your plane ride home is a redeye, and you make it from the hotel to the airport just in time to make your flight. You’ve got just under two weeks until you have to go to the Brazil Grand Prix, and you know you’ll be busy, so you don’t stick around in Argentina for any of the afterparties despite being happy enough to live that kind of party life when it’s called for.
Your next two weeks are a whirlwind. You sell even more of your photographs from Formula One than you originally expected, and you reconsider your distaste for the sport even further as the money rolls in. An entire candid series of your photos gets purchased by a popular racing magazine to show the behind the scenes of the Argentina Grand Prix, and you’re proud to see your work highlighted on the glossy pages.
A friend of yours calls on your third day home in an absolute panic, as a model dropped out of his reshoots for a perfume campaign ad that has been bogged down with nothing but problems. He’s way over his original deadline, and desperate to get this done before the publishing date of the ad campaign. You’ve modelled before - you feature heavily in the portfolios of several friends you came up in the industry with - and you have no problem subbing in despite a lack of interest in consistent modelling work. Nudity doesn’t bother you either. You do life modelling at the local art school by your house several times a semester, having become good friends with the director of the school shortly after moving to the area.
Just under two weeks later, you board a flight to Brazil with a copy of the magazine in which your photo is printed in hand, and you can’t help but cringe just a little at the sight of yourself. Thankfully, you don’t advertise your modelling, so most people you know won’t ever see it. You’re draped upside-down over a chaise lounge, oiled legs over the back of the sofa and crossed elegantly, an arm around your breasts as perfume drips onto your bare chest and rolls up your neck. You’re dressed in only pearls and a pair of heels that are hanging from your feet like you might kick them off at any second. Your head is hung over the edge of the seat of the chaise, perfume dripping up the line of your throat, and the bottle features prominently beside you. The only thing that hides your cunt from view is a small strip of silk fabric draped around your hip and between your legs. It’s a beautiful photo. Minimal retouching, stunning composition, and the black and white photo looks far more elegant than it might have in colour. You’re proud enough of it, and you have a folder of some of the rejected shots as further payment for your troubles.
You arrive in Sao Paulo midday on Friday and make contact with the owner of a darkroom, then head off to your hotel. Tony rings you up no more than two hours after you arrive to coax you into getting dinner with him, and he presses about how the rest of the last Grand Prix went, bragging about how many of your photos he’s seen in the last few days. Tony promises to drive you to the track in the morning, and comments that many of the drivers are staying in the same hotel as you both are. He tries to encourage you to get a drink with him, but you insist on heading back to your hotel room to get some decent sleep.
On Saturday, you dress in a peach crochet crop top and high-waisted denim shorts that you have to admit make your ass look fantastic. You’re far from the only person to be dressed for the weather when you arrive - it’s atrociously hot, and Tony insists on bringing a parasol that you can’t help but tease him for. You opt to slather on sunscreen and bring a bottle to reapply later, along with water so you don’t dehydrate. Once again, Tony walks you through the garages as he says hello to drivers, spending extra time with some of his friends while you take countless photos and, admittedly, eye the Ferrari garage. You nearly jump out of your skin when a loud, British voice calls out to you moments before an arm is clapped around your shoulders.
“Hello darling.” Hunt croons, pecking your temple pleasantly, and you smile up at him.
“Hello James.”
“I think you’re more fond of me than you’d like to admit. I saw the photos you took of me winning second. You didn’t make me look drab at all.” The large blond teases, and you shrug.
“Ah, well, I’ll try harder next time.” You retort, and he laughs as he uses his grip on your shoulders to turn you around with him away from Tony. He’s dressed in a pair of jeans, brown sandals, and a thin grey t-shirt, but you don’t imagine that will last long. It’s too hot for it. You’re surprised more of the drivers aren’t shirtless already.
“Now, I need something from you.” James insists almost gravely, and you raise an eyebrow as you peer up at him.
“That’s disconcerting. I promise you nothing.”
“Oh, it’s nothing much, love. Just an autograph.” James insists, pulling a familiar magazine out of his pocket and flipping it open to your photo. You wonder if he expects you to be ashamed, or embarrassed. He’s grinning widely, holding out a marker to you, and you take it blithely. Using your teeth to remove the cap, you sign your photo directly across your barely covered tits, then hand it back to him.
“Enjoy. Try not to make the pages stick together or it’ll lose all its value.” You hum crudely, and James laughs so loud you just know everyone must be looking at you. You snap a photo of him braying like a donkey, and he waves you away, his bright grin showing he isn’t actually upset. He flees with his prize, promising to see you later, and Tony leads you closer and closer to the Ferrari garage while you desperately try not to panic. Clay meets you outside, a friendly grin on his face as he greets you both. He compliments several of your photos, including one of him that he informs you his wife is particularly fond of. You promise to have a proper print made for her and take his information so you can mail it, promising to think about attending one of the afterparties for the Grand Prix. You laugh at the lack of subtlety as Clay pushes you to go into the garage while he chats with Tony, but you obey his silent command, finally feeling capable of looking Niki in the eye. You’re slightly less so when you spot a copy of the dreaded magazine on one of the toolboxes.
Niki looks up at you as you enter the garage, and you’re pleased to see that he looks at least somewhat happy to see you. Sure, he’s blushing a little, but you assume that’s because of the magazine and you’re frankly not upset about him getting a peek at you naked, and perhaps wanting another. You waggle your fingers at him, and he nods in return, stepping closer to you. He’s already in his racing suit, though it’s tugged down to his waist, and you take in the sight of his naked chest shamelessly.
“Nice to see you, Niki.” You greet him, putting your hands into your back pockets and offering him a wide smile.
“I did not know if you would show up to another Grand Prix.” He comments, and you shrug, taking a step closer to him.
“Turns out I like racing more than I thought I would. I ended up getting a contract for the rest of the season, so, I guess you’ll have to get used to seeing me around.”
“There are worse things.” Niki replies with a wry, playful smile, and you laugh, “The photo you gave me. It was decent.”
You can’t help but snort, bumping your fist against his bicep gently, “I’m glad you liked it. I’m sure I’ll get more good ones today. Have you put sunscreen on yet, by the way? The sun is harsh today.”
“I forgot mine at the hotel.” Niki admits, and you grab the strap of your bag, wiggling it, then setting your bags on a nearby table since they’re heavy enough that you don’t feel like lugging them around.
“I brought some. I’ll share, since you were kind enough to show me around.” You offer, and Niki nods as he steps closer to you. You pull out the bottle and offer it to him, but he doesn’t take it, and you look at him for a moment as a hint of a cheeky smile tugs at his lips. You let out a breathy laugh, pleasantly surprised, and you pop the cap to squirt some of the sunscreen into your hand then give it to Niki to hold so you can use both of your hands. Niki offers you his arm, and you take your time rubbing it into his skin until the white cast fades. You’re thorough as you make your way up first one arm, and then the other. He lets out a quiet sigh as you rub the thick cream into his chest, and you offer him a faint smile, a knowing look on your face.
You can feel the slight shift in the air. The way Niki leans into your hands, his gaze fixed on you the entire time. The way your heart has begun to pound in your chest, and you can feel Niki’s heartbeat against your palms. You wet your lips as you rub your hands over his shoulders, then carefully turn him around so you can get his back. You’re gentle but indulgent here, letting him enjoy the massage you’ve turned this into, and he lets out a quiet grunt as you work out a knot in his shoulder blade. Once he’s thoroughly protected, you turn him around again, carefully applying sunscreen to his neck and ears, then up over his chin and jaw. He watches you as you cup his face and gently rub some of the thick cream into his cheeks, sweeping over his nose, and up his temples to his forehead.
His stare is intense as you swipe your thumb across his lips, but you’re quick to return your hands to his chest. You apply a layer of sunscreen to his stomach, then examine him to be sure you’ve got him covered, and he finally lifts a hand to squeeze your waist, gentle as can be. The air shifts again, and your eyes go half-lidded, pupils blown. You swallow, throat dry from the spike of heat running through you, and you finally tear your gaze away from him to look around the garage. The door is open, and you can hear Clay and Tony chatting with the mechanics. You wet your lips, placing your hands on Niki’s chest and running your thumbs over his collarbones.
“Hey, Niki? Where do you get changed?” You ask quietly, but your meaning must be clear, since he cracks another grin that sends flutters through your stomach. He slips his arm around you, hand on your lower back as he leads you further into the garage towards the restricted back area where the drivers have their trailers. Niki opens the door for you, then follows you in, and you pull him closer to you the moment the door closes behind him. He raises an eyebrow when you lock it, seemingly surprised, and he cups your cheek tenderly.
“We don’t have time.” He reminds you, hushed, and maybe a twinge regretful. You smile up at him, guiding him to lean against the wall as your hand slips down his stomach and into his racing suit. A ragged gasp leaves his lips, and he bucks instinctively into your hand the moment it wraps around him, already more than half-hard. You give him a couple of gentle strokes through his underwear, then push his underwear down his thighs so you can free his growing erection and wrap your hand around him.
“We don’t have time for more, no. But I guarantee I can take care of you before anyone misses you too much.” You purr against his ear, pressing a gentle kiss to his neck as you begin to stroke him properly. He arches into it a little, letting out an endearing little hum of contentment that makes you smile as he braces his shoulders against the wall behind him. Niki groans as you release him briefly to spit into your hand, and his arm tightens around you, his grip sliding down from your lower back to grab a handful of your ass. He watches you as you play with him, eyes half-lidded and mouth slightly open as he takes little gulps of air, tensing every time you squeeze on your upstroke as you get close to the head. You practically moan as he starts to thrust into your hand, eyes fluttering closed as he leans into it.
“That’s it, honey. Take what you want. M’here just for you.” You whisper against his ear, unable and unwilling to hide the blatant desire in your voice, “I wish we had time. I want to feel you, Niki. I’d be so good to you.”
The Austrian groans, head falling back as his thrusts speed up, fucking into your hand with just a hint of desperation. You can feel him throbbing against you, and you moan softly, dropping your other hand to roll his balls in your palm. A gentle squeeze draws a deeper groan from him, and his hips stutter as he gets closer, so you reluctantly let go of his balls and undo your shorts. He moans softly, sounding almost pained, his pretty blue eyes half-lidded and dark with desire.
“We don’t have time.” He reminds you, voice full of remorse as he squeezes your waist, and you laugh softly as you pull your shorts and underwear down just a little.
“I know, honey, I know. I’m just giving you somewhere to… leave your mark.” You purr, and he groans, pulling you closer to him. He cups your cheek instead of your ass as you stand face to face with him and pull your underwear and shorts out a little, aiming towards your cunt. He lets out a raspy moan of your name as he tips over the edge, hips stuttering as he coats your lower belly, pussy and underwear in cum. Once he’s done, you tuck him back into his racing suit and pull your underwear up to cover the sticky mess he’s made. You wiggle your shorts back up and button them, then pat his chest gently with your clean hand, licking a couple of stray drops of cum from your fingers.
“I won’t say good luck, since you don’t need it.” You murmur, and you’re gone before he can even catch his breath, hooking your arm through Tony’s, “Sorry boys, hate to interrupt, but I’ve got to take Tony here and head over to the press ring.”
Tony follows you, and Clay calls a playful sounding goodbye as he heads into the garage. You spot Hunt making his way in that direction too and snort, almost feeling bad for Niki for the ribbing he’s likely about to get. Until you remember that his cum is dripping down over your cunt, and you won’t be able to get off until the qualifiers are done. Tony asks you about your talk with Niki, waggling his eyebrows suggestively, and you nudge him in the arm with a scoff. He gives you a mildly judgemental look as you duck into a bathroom to wash your hands, but he doesn’t comment, except to remind you that if ever you weren’t happy, you need only tell him and he’d fix it.
Considering Tony’s contacts worldwide, you believe him.
Together, you tuck into the press area, and Tony cheers loudly while you take photos of the drivers getting into their cars. Throughout the qualifiers, you get some fairly good photos, though you pout a little when Jarier gets pole position. With the qualifiers over, Tony pauses to speak with a couple of reporters he knows, and you linger nearby to take photos. You turn to observe the drivers scurrying around their garages, only to freeze as you spot Niki through your viewfinder. He pauses a few steps away from you, hands on his slim hips, and you smile a little at the sight of him all dishevelled from driving. His hair is a little sweaty, curls sticking to his forehead, and you have to bite back a dreamy sigh.
“It has come to my attention that you might want to go to dinner with me.” Niki comments, and you raise an eyebrow at him, biting back a smile.
“Was that a question, honey?” You ask, and Niki’s eyes darken a hint at the nickname you’d only recently whispered in his ear. Unable to help yourself, you let your gaze trail over him, head to toe and then back up, and Niki cracks a smile at your obvious desire.
“Go to dinner with me tonight?” He asks, stepping closer to you, and you shiver as his hand skims over your waist, fitting into the curve like it belongs there.
“Do I have time to go back to my hotel and change? I’m a little sweaty, and I don’t think this outfit is appropriate for dinner.”
“We’re staying at the same hotel. I will come get you when I’m done here. What is your room number?”
You give it to him without hesitation, stepping a little closer to him and watching his gaze trail over you. He leans in closer to you, lips against your ear, and you shiver with delight at the feeling as you grip the front of his racing suit to steady yourself.
“You will not wash me off of you.”
Your thighs clench, and he rubs his thumb into your side gently, almost soothingly as you lean into him a little. You suck your lower lip into your mouth, biting it gently, and Niki pulls it free with his thumb.
“It is shameful that I have not yet kissed you, with what I let you do.” Niki murmurs, and you smile as you reluctantly step away from him, fairly sure that he won’t kiss you here.
“I’m sure you’ll have plenty of chances,” You reply, your voice playful and low to avoid being overheard, “especially if you keep letting me do whatever I like with you.”
Niki lets out a soft laugh, and you can’t help but grin at the fondness in his eyes, “I will pick you up soon. Go. Then, we will see who is doing what they like.”
~
Two hours later finds you sitting at a table in a warm, surprisingly romantic restaurant, running your foot up the inner side of Niki’s calf while you tell him about some of the work you’ve done. You’re dressed in an a-line dress of layered muted pastel gossamers with a plunging neckline that Niki seems to appreciate considering the ample attention he’s paid to your assets while you ate. He’s told you a bit about his racing career, giving you the typical highlight reel and only opening up a bit more when you ask him about himself rather than his driving. He seems more interested in talking about you, which you can understand. You know he gets asked a million annoying questions about himself in every interview, and then often gets dogged on for giving short, straight-forward, or blunt answers. You tell him about the art school near your home, and the life modelling you’ve done, which he seems curious about but not jealous in the way you’ve had previous men in your life be.
You tell him stories about some of the highs and lows - a student who drew you so beautifully that you felt on a high for the next week, another who kept making your chest bigger than it was, and a third who was kicked out of the class because they kept asking if the class could do in depth anatomy drawing classes since you were naked anyways. You tell him about the modelling you’ve done, largely for your friends who were aiming at going into fashion photography and needed to build out their portfolios. Niki admits that Clay showed him the magazine with your perfume ad in it that morning, and you smile as you sip your wine, offering him a playful wink when he inquires if you’ve done any more nude modelling.
You skim your hand across the table clearly made for dates considering how close you two are, tracing your fingertips across his, and blush as he takes your hand and holds it gentler than any boyfriend you’ve ever had despite you not being his. Contrary to the statement made by the cum still marking your cunt. With his free hand, Niki eats the last bite on his plate, and you feel excited butterflies in your stomach at the thought of perhaps going home with him soon.
“Do you want to get dessert?” He asks you, and you smile, finishing your glass of wine. You slip your hand free of his, and Niki watches as you fidget for a moment before getting up. You lean down to press a gentle kiss to his cheek, leaving a hint of a wine mark behind as you slip something into his pocket. He lets you, curious and intrigued by your bold nature, and far more focused on the pretty curve of your hip beside him.
“I’ll meet you outside. Don’t make me wait.” You whisper in his ear, then squeeze his shoulder and head out of the restaurant, past the waiter who seems to be returning to your table to see if Niki wants the bill. You step outside, your clutch in hand and your white heels clicking on the pavement as you enjoy the warm air outside. You hope you weren’t too bold, but when you peek in through the window, you spot Niki staring at the lacey fabric of your underwear pulled only slightly out of his pocket. He seems to have realised what it is, and he meets your eyes through the glass, bringing a coquettish smile on your lips. You wink, and his jaw clenches visibly. He tucks the fabric away just in time for the waiter to arrive with the bill, and Niki pays it so quickly you think he must’ve just let the waiter keep the change, for soon enough he’s walking out the front door towards you.
A strong hand closes around the curve of your hip, and you lean into him, gasping as he jerks you ever closer. He leads you towards the street, hailing a taxi with a simple wave of his hand while he whispers harshly in your ear, “You tempt fate, playing with me like this.”
“Do I? It certainly seems like you’re enjoying it.” You purr, giving him a pointed once-over. He opens the taxi door for you and helps you in, then sits beside you, his hand skimming over your thigh once you’re both settled. He gives the driver the hotel name, then leans into your ear again to avoid the man hearing him.
“I already want you. You do not need to keep seducing me.” He murmurs, and you laugh quietly as you cover his hand and slip it further up under the slit in your dress.
“Is that what you think I’m doing, Niki? Trying to catch your interest and keep it?” You ask, and he squeezes your soft thigh, his eyes dark with desire, “I know you want me, honey. I don’t think you quite know how much I want you, but you’ll learn.”
Niki’s breathing gets a little harsh, and you pet his arm soothingly, doing your best not to make a scene as he rubs his thumb into the meat of your leg.
“The seduction doesn’t stop when I catch your interest,” You inform him, your voice hushed and low, “nor does it stop when you fuck me. It does not stop when you go back to race tomorrow, or when we don’t see each other for a month until the next Grand Prix, or even if you make me yours. It does not stop when we are too tired, or when we are upset. It will continue until we no longer want each other.”
Niki lets out a quiet breath, and you perk up as the taxi pulls up in front of your hotel. The Austrian driver pays for the taxi, slipping out of the car and then helping you out as well. He steadies you, his arm around your waist again as he leads you into the large hotel, heading towards the elevator in thoughtful silence. You don’t question it when he pushes the button for his floor instead of yours. In the quiet of the elevator, he pulls you closer to him, cupping your face in his hand to gently tilt your head back. He presses his lips to yours, gently at first, then a little more hungrily when you moan into his mouth. Your arms slip lazily around his neck, and he sighs into the kiss when one hand tangles into his curls, your manicured nails scraping against his scalp.
You break the kiss as you near his floor, letting him lead you towards his room, his pace just a little bit more hurried than it was before. The door clicks open, and Niki guides you through it, kicking it closed behind him while he pulls you into another kiss. Now, in the comfort of his hotel room without anyone around to see, you smoothly undo the buttons on his shirt while he sucks at your lower lip, then breaks away to nip your top lip. You pant together, both struck breathless as you finally get his shirt open and shove it down over his shoulders.
“You’re in such a rush, mouse.” Niki murmurs as he finds the zipper on the side of your dress and pulls it all the way down to your hip. You frown at him to show your displeasure at his teasing, but it doesn’t knock the grin from his face as he lets you yank his undershirt over his head. He puts a hand over your ribs, thumb tracing the soft line under your breast while you unbutton his jeans, and you sigh into his mouth as he kisses you like he wants to devour you. You’ve just got his jeans undone when he finally pulls the sleeves of your dress down your arms, and you gasp as he guides you to step back out of it, his hands already slipping back to undo your bra. He pushes you back onto the bed once it’s discarded, and you pull your legs up, scooting back a little on the mattress. He catches your ankle before you can get out of his reach, and you feel your cheeks get hot as he parts your legs to admire what remains of the mess he made of you that morning.
“I liked this.” Niki informs you as he rubs his thumb over the messy seam of your cunt, and you shiver with excitement as he pulls you open a little so he can see how far down his cum dripped.
“So did I.” You admit, and his gaze flicks up to you before he pushes his jeans and underwear down over his hips. Your eyes go half-lidded with desire at the sight of his pretty cock, and you welcome him with open arms as he crawls onto the bed on top of you. He trails kisses up your body as he goes, pausing to suck your nipples into his mouth, first one, and then the other. You grasp at his hair, a happy sigh escaping you, though it turns into a ragged moan as Niki slips first one, and then a second finger into you. He crooks them, and you gasp as he strokes across that spot inside of you that makes your toes curl while his thumb presses into your clit.
“Fuck, Niki.” You moan, and he smiles against your skin, trailing kisses across your heaving chest while he pumps his fingers into you. His lips meet yours for another kiss, and you roll your hips to meet him, fucking yourself on his hand while he bites your bottom lip. He scissors his fingers, then adds a third, stretching you out and making you dig your nails into his back. He groans, biting the top of your tit and pulling his fingers free of you to give his cock a couple of firm strokes. You sit up on your elbows as he opens the drawer on his night table and pulls out a foil packet. Niki starts to climb onto the bed, but you lean up to meet him, pushing him to sit up at the head of the bed.
“You are very… bold.” Niki murmurs as you crawl up over his legs to straddle his thighs, “you wish to be on top? To take what you want?”
You hum your agreement, ripping open the condom packet and rolling it onto him while he smooths his hands up over your thighs. Thankfully, he seems agreeable, even if he’s mildly surprised.
“And what is it you want, mouse?” He asks, supporting you as you put one hand on his shoulder and reach behind you with the other, positioning him against you. He lets out a quiet moan, stroking your thighs, then skimming his hands up to grip your hips.
“You, Niki.” You moan as you seat yourself on his cock, sinking down until he’s balls deep inside of you. You drape your arms over his shoulders, fingers tangling in his hair while the other hand grasps at his shoulder blades, and you press your chest firmly to his. He kisses you hard, grasping your hips and guiding you to start to ride him as he moans into your mouth, not so much kissing as you’re sharing breath. He’s long, filling you completely, and thick enough that it’s a little bit of a stretch to take him. The slight curve of his cock strokes against a spot inside you with every thrust that makes you whimper and grip him a little tighter, desperate for more. You break the whisper of a kiss and let your head fall back as you ride him hard, setting an eager pace that makes your thighs ache. Niki skims his hands up to cup your tits, closing his lips around your nipple and scraping his teeth across it in a way that makes you whine for more before he switches to the other one.
You gasp as Niki reaches between you to strum your clit, and he groans lowly as you tug on his hair. You begin to move faster, and Niki leans back a little bit to watch you, admiring the way your tits bounce with every thrust. He looks beautiful like this, one hand clutching your side and helping you move, lips parted around a moan, glistening with just a little bit of sweat. You wonder how anyone could ever call him a rat. How anyone could be so blind as to miss how gorgeous he is. And yet you’re happy they did miss it, because now he’s here, under you, letting you take your pleasure from him. Your thighs are burning, and you’re fairly sure you’re going to be sore later, but you’re also rattling towards a stellar orgasm and you couldn’t be happier. With Niki fucking Lauda.
“That’s it, mausi, take it. Take what you need from me.” Niki groans, circling your clit and panting for breath as he does his best to hold on until you come. You moan for him desperately, and he plants his feet to thrust up into you, driving you closer and closer to the edge. Thank God for Niki. He notices you about to scream as you come for him and guides your mouth to his neck, which you bite down on instinctively, clinging to him as if he’ll give you mercy. A guttural groan rumbles against you as Niki quickly finds his own peak only a couple of thrusts later, his hands gripping your hips so tightly you’re sure you’ll be bruised afterwards.
Niki carefully guides you down onto the mattress, and you watch through half-lidded eyes as he slips into the bathroom to dispose of the condom. He returns to you shortly after, crawling onto the bed over you and burying his face in your chest. You pet his hair gently, letting out a sleepy laugh as he nuzzles against your breasts, humming with contentment that makes your heart swell in your chest. You rub his shoulders, and he lets out a happy, muffled moan against your skin as he slips his hands under your back to hold you.
“Sorry for biting you.” You murmur, and Niki chuckles against your chest, scraping his teeth over the curve of your breast.
“You haven’t hurt me, mouse.” He replies, “Relax. Perhaps, if you are good, I’ll fuck you again before we sleep.”
~
In fact, he fucks you twice more that night. Once on your hands and knees, face pressed into the mattress as Niki rails you like he’s trying to exorcise his demons through your cunt. Then, in the shower you take together afterwards, back pressed into the cold tiles with Niki’s forehead nuzzled against yours, more intimate than you ever thought you’d get from what you presumed would be a one night stand or a race fling. While you use another condom the second time, Niki simply pulls out after making you lose your mind on his cock in the shower, spreading your cunt open so he can cover you in his cum.
He reluctantly lets you wash it off after, and you sleepily promise that he can come on you in the morning, crawling under the sheets with him. In the morning, he takes you up on your offer, lazily fucking you from behind with your leg pulled back over his hip as he strokes your clit. This time, you reach back to stop him from pulling out, telling him you’re on birth control while he presses kisses into your shoulder. He groans against your skin, and you find yourself gasping for air as he picks up the pace of his thrusts. Heat floods you, and you moan helplessly as Niki fucks his cum deeper into you, redoubling his efforts to make you come before he gets oversensitive.
The mattress shifts behind you as Niki gets up, leaning over you to press a kiss to your temple, then heading into the bathroom to clean up. You roll out of bed, and Niki returns to find you wrapped in a bedsheet and staring out the window, and you lean into him when he steps up behind you and puts his arms around your waist. He presses a kiss to your shoulder, and you sigh dreamily.
“You can borrow something.” Niki murmurs against your skin, and you tilt your head to kiss him, enjoying what you know might be the last few moments of afterglow before he’s done with you. Niki breaks it reluctantly, stepping away to rummage through his luggage and find a shirt and boxer briefs for you. You get changed, finger-combing your hair to neaten it, then helping Niki button his shirt while you steal a couple of kisses before you leave.
“I’ll see you at the track.” You murmur against his lips, and he hums, giving your bottom a firm squeeze.
“Come to the garage. You can watch the race from there.” Niki replies, and you can’t help but smile.
“That’s bold. People will ask questions if you have a photographer waiting in the garage for you.” You remind him, and Niki looks at you blankly.
“They can ask all they like. My woman will cheer for me from my garage, not wait in the sun in the stands like everyone else.” Niki retorts, and you feel your stomach flip, heart beating nearly out of your chest.
“Your woman?” You clarify, and Niki pulls you closer to him, kissing you hard enough that your teeth clack together clumsily. It does nothing to take away from your eagerness, and you clench your fingers in his shirt, knees going just a little weak. You’ll never admit it, though.
“You think I am so careless to come in any woman? I have condoms for a reason, mouse.” Niki reminds you, and you gasp against his mouth, eyes rolling back as your cunt throbs, “unless, you do not want to be mine.”
“Don’t be stupid, Niki Lauda. You know what I want.”
~
After the Brazil Grand Prix, you spend the early evening bent over the edge of Niki’s bed, or grasping the headboard for dear life as he fucks out the adrenaline high of racing into your sweet body. You’re booked for another late flight home, and Niki barely lets you go in time to make it to the airport, even though he’s got his own early flight in the morning. You head home with promises to visit Niki in Vienna once you’ve settled your work commitments and sent off your photos to their respective buyers. You talk to each other at least every other evening, though you both have a lot going on. One evening, you even drag your phone into the bathroom so that you can talk to Niki while you’re in the bathtub, and he expresses regret that he can’t share it with you. It takes far too long, in your opinion, to get your business settled. But finally, nearly two weeks later, you call Niki earlier in the day than you usually do.
“I’m ready. So, if you still want me, I can be in Vienna as early as tomorrow.” You inform him instead of saying hello, and Niki’s breathy sigh crackles over the landline.
“Tell me where to pick you up, and when. I will be there.” Niki replies, and you giggle, excitement bubbling in your belly.
“So it’s a good thing that I booked a plane ticket arriving tomorrow without asking?”
“Bold, as always, mouse. What time am I picking you up?” Thankfully, Niki sounds amused rather than annoyed.
“I arrive at Vienna Airport at eleven am tomorrow. My flight leaves at 7:30 tonight. So, I’ll be getting on the plane while you’re fast asleep at 2:30 am.” You inform him, “At 11 am, it will be 4 am for me, so I’m taking a nap on the plane so I can try and beat jet lag.”
“We will have a lazy day.” Niki promises, and you sigh happily at the idea, folding a pair of jeans to tuck into your suitcase.
“Should I bring anything in particular?”
“I will take you out to dinner - something suitable for that. It is mild this time of year. Similar to your weather, I believe.” Niki comments, and you laugh as you pack a knit sweater.
“So, no requests for lingerie? Short skirts? Plunging necklines?” You inquire, and Niki gives a thoughtful hum, as if he hadn’t even thought of requesting anything.
“I trust your taste, mouse. Bring what you think I will like, and I will do my best to show you my appreciation.”
“Yessir.”
~
After an eight hour and fifteen minute flight that you entirely slept through, you pick up your luggage after going through customs, and spot Niki waiting for you from a distance. There is no dramatic reunion. You don’t run across the airport into his waiting arms to kiss his face off like in a movie. Instead, you walk calmly over to him, and he takes the handle of your luggage, putting his arm around you and greeting you with a gentle kiss to your cheek and a query as to how your flight was.
He opens the door to his car for you, helping you in, then putting your luggage in the trunk. You squeeze his thigh when he gets into the car, and you notice him smiling as he drives away from the busy airport towards his home. You stroke his thigh as he drives, and you can’t pretend you don’t notice the stirring in his trousers. It does nothing to stop you, of course. You have plenty of plans for your Niki. As you get to a less busy area of town, you hum thoughtfully to yourself, then pull your hair back out of your face. Niki glances at you curiously as you reach over towards him, unzipping his trousers.
“Woah- mouse, what are you doing?”
“Whatever I like.” You retort, pulling his half-hard cock out of his boxer briefs and swirling your tongue around the leaky tip.
“Mouse…” Niki groans softly, wrapping your hair around his hand and pulling gently as if to stop you.
“If you can’t focus, pull over.” You hum, slapping his cock against your tongue a couple of times, then taking him into your mouth. Niki grumbles to himself above your head, letting out a low, growly groan. You hear the gentle tick of the turn signal, and then the bumps and rumble of the car pulling off the road. As soon as the car turns off, Niki’s hands tangle in your hair, and you moan around his cock as he pulls.
“Fuck, mausi. You could not wait?” Niki asks, and you hum an affirmative, bobbing your head at a leisurely pace, “No, of course not. You were too desperate for my cock, weren’t you?”
You slip your hand into his underwear to roll his balls in your palm, and he groans, bucking up into your mouth then apologising hoarsely as he pets your hair back from your face. You moan around him encouragingly, then decide that Niki deserves your somewhat unique talent. He’s been good to you. Blown your mind enough times despite your limited time together. You let him slip from your mouth, swallowing the precum and saliva pooling in your mouth, then taking a couple of deep breaths.
“Feel free to thrust, if you like. I can take it, honey.” You purr, and before Niki can ask for clarification, you take him back into your mouth, sinking down until your nose is buried in his pubic hair. Niki groans, guttural and low, his head thumping back against the headrest hard. Rumbling german interspersed with the occasional english swear word falls from Niki’s lips as you swallow him down, wiping every thought from his mind until his gentlemanly ways fall lax and he begins to fuck into your mouth eagerly. You moan helplessly as he chases his release, gripping your hair tightly as he finally falls over the edge.
“Don’t swallow yet. Let me see.” He pants, and you obediently do your best not to swallow or let any of his cum leak from your overstuffed mouth. Breathing through your nose, you sit up in your seat and situate yourself, then open your mouth to show off the mess he’s made of you. Niki moans softly, tapping your chin.
“Swallow.”
You obediently do, and he leans across the short distance to kiss you, licking into your mouth to taste himself off your tongue.
“When we get to my home, I will show you around. You will put down your things, and then I am going to ruin you for any other man.” Niki whispers against your lips, and you moan softly, letting out a little whimper when he leans back into his seat to put himself away and then resume the drive home.
And ruin you he does. As promised, Niki takes you on a tour of the home, his hand tucked into your back pocket. You put your luggage in his room, and then he takes you into the bathroom to take a bath, though you’re sure you nearly cause a flood with how much water flows over the edge when he fucks you. Afterwards, nice and clean, he takes you down to his living room and you try to watch a film together, but Niki ends up not seeing much of it as he kneels in front of his couch between your legs and makes you see stars on his mouth.
You have a light lunch, then curl up together for a nap, your head pillowed on Niki’s chest with you curled around him. You wake to Niki laying you back on the couch beneath him, covering your neck and chest in kisses as he flips up your skirt and pulls down your tights.
“Is this okay?” He asks, and you moan softly as he sucks your nipple into his mouth.
“Niki, you can fuck me whenever you like. Even if I’m sleeping, you don’t have to wake me up. If I’m not into it, I will tell you, but I promise you I’ll almost always be into it.” You murmur, and Niki groans as he yanks your underwear down and positions himself. He slips inside easily, still all pliant and wet from before your nap, and you relax beneath him and let him take what he needs. You’re still half-asleep, so you don’t participate nearly as much as you usually do, but Niki seems to like the sleepy moans and whimpers he’s able to pull from you, and the way you hold onto him as if he’s the only thing keeping you together.
The rest of your visit in Vienna goes similarly. Lazy morning sex seems to be a necessity for both of you. Breakfast is always a quiet but gentle affair, curled up together while you eat. Niki takes you to art galleries, museums, and historical sites. Some days, he takes you on walks. Some days, you don’t leave the house much at all, and you begin to realise how easy things are together. You take enough pictures of your boyfriend to open a Niki Lauda gallery, and he lets you drag him to a darkroom to develop many of them, which results in Niki fucking you in the low lit room with his hand over your mouth to stop anyone from hearing you.
You fly to South Africa together, and you only spend one night in your own hotel room before Niki drags you back to his own, complaining about poor sleep. Once again, Niki is disappointed with the results of the race, and he follows you back home instead of going to Vienna to enjoy the nearly two-month break before the Spanish Grand Prix. You end up in Ibiza for a good month of that break, lazing in the sun, swimming, or giving each other couples massages. You end up being the better masseuse of the two of you, and Niki lets you work out his stress until he melts underneath you, his pretty blue eyes half-lidded and happy.
It’s bliss, honestly. By the time Spain rolls around, you’ve dropped all pretence. Everyone knows you’re together - Tony, Hunt and Clay are all beyond thrilled. Hunt asks you far too many questions about your sex life, and you answer none of them, except to inform him that you are thoroughly satisfied. Tony warns Niki that no one will find his body if he hurts you, and Niki doesn’t seem bothered by the threat, confident that it won’t be necessary. Clay simply seems pleased that Niki is perhaps more at ease, and that you’re happy together.
Spain ends up being a nightmare. The race is cancelled part way through due to dangerous conditions and crashes, and Niki needs the break to work with his team. You end up spending the break working as well, away from Niki, and while it is difficult, you make quite a bit of money. Your work is hot at the moment, and plenty of people are happy to pay for your photographs of other sporting events.
Monaco changes things. Niki wins. And he keeps his momentum, winning three Grand Prixs in a row, placing second in another, then first again in France. Great Britain is a mess all around, but Niki recovers with a third place in West Germany. Austria is another mess on par with Spain with the race ending early and only half points awarded. In Italy, Niki secures his championship with a third place, but he goes on to win first in the United States anyways as if to prove he earned it with his fifth first place of the season.
He proposes after the season is over, and you marry at the courthouse in Vienna. He goes home with you to pack your things after you manage to secure a visa due to your marriage, and you move your belongings across the ocean without a single thought of looking back. Niki only breaks the news to the press when he is caught wearing his wedding ring at a post-championship interview, and he’s not thrilled to have most of his interview questions diverted to his recent wedding, but he answers what he’s willing to. Which isn’t very much, frankly.
~
“Does that feel good?” You whisper as you stroke your hands up over your husband’s arms to squeeze his triceps almost reverently. Niki’s eyelashes flutter as he closes his eyes, quiet moans falling from his pretty pink lips. You watch with a smile as his muscles flex against the soft silk tying his wrists to the headboard, and you can’t help but sigh adoringly as he catches his lower lip between his teeth, emphasising his overbite in such a pretty way that you want to take a picture of him. Not that he’d ever let you.
Not that you’d ever want anyone else to see him like this. You’ve very possessive of Niki’s submissive side.
“Mausi.” Niki murmurs warningly, and you give him a sharp look, eyebrow raised as if you can’t believe him. You can. Niki is terrible at being patient in bed, and while he enjoys submitting to you, he does not enjoy it when you tease him. Or rather, he does, but he likes to pretend he doesn’t. Male pride, you assume.
“What is it, sweetheart?” You ask, pouting at him mockingly as you run your hands down over his chest, thumbs swiping across his sensitive nipples. He jerks beneath you, letting out a raspy moan that has you cooing sympathetically, “Ohh, are you sensitive, baby?”
Niki presses his head back into the pillows, moaning breathlessly as you pinch his nipples between your index fingers and thumbs, sitting your bare ass back against his hard cock as you tweak them. A gentle pull has Niki bucking up against you, digging his heels into the bed to try and get some leverage so he can thrust up against you. It’s difficult with his ankles bound to the footboard, but he tries regardless, desperate for more contact. You pull again a little more sharply, and Niki lets out the softest whimper, an angelic look of submission on his face as he pushes his chest up into your hands rather than pulls away.
This is when you give him mercy. You lean down, cupping his pecs from below and pushing them up while you bring his right nipple into your mouth and suck harshly. Niki groans, and you flick your tongue over him a couple of times, then bite gently when his nipple gets hard. You’ve missed him so much while he was gone, nearly a week without him feeling like too much even though it isn’t the first time. You lovingly kiss your way across his chest to his other nipple and repeat the process, but this time, you adjust your hips so you’re pinning his cock between your wet cunt and his stomach. You start to roll your hips, grinding on his cock in a mimicry of the pussyjobs he’s used your cunt for in the past. He’s especially fond of them when you’re half-asleep and pliant, in the early hours of the morning with the sun's first light kissing your skin through the partially open curtains. He says you look like a painting like that, only you’re his, so he can touch the artwork all he likes.
Niki blinks up at you with hazy eyes, lips parted and panting for breath as you toy with him. His pretty blue eyes are full of love and lust, your personal favourite look on him, and you smile as he arches again, pulling on the silk binding him to the bed desperately. You smile, tangling your fingers in his hair and gently pulling his head up, forcing him to look down his own body so he can see the leaky pink head of his cock peeking out from beneath your cunt. There’s a little puddle of his precum on his belly, and he flushes as he realises how much he’s dripping.
“Do you want more, baby? Do you want your mausi to sit on your pretty cock and make you feel good?” You ask, and Niki nods as much as he can with you still holding his head up, “Do you want to fill your mausi with cum? Wanna get her pregnant?”
Niki moans eagerly, nodding again, and you grin as you release his hair and let his head fall back to the pillows. You lean down, lips pressing against his ear while you stroke his cheek lovingly, “I’ve been off my birth control since you left for testing. It’s been almost a full week, so it’s well out of my system.”
That gets a reaction out of him.
“Put my cock in your perfect little cunt, mausi. Let me stuff you full of my cum and I promise I’ll get you pregnant with my child.” Niki moans, and you practically purr with delight, scooping up his precum with your fingers and rubbing it over his cock until he’s slick and glistening. You lift your hips and rub the head of his cock through the wetness dripping from you, then notch the head against your hole. You sink down until he’s buried inside of you and you can feel his balls clenching.
“You promise, honey?”
“I swear.” Niki replies instantly, breathless, and you can feel him twitching against you, desperate to roll you over and fuck you into the sheets. He watches with wide eyes as you arch back to grab the little emergency release ties you’d learned to do since you started tying each other up, freeing his ankles from their bonds with one tug. Niki immediately plants his feet in the mattress and starts to buck up into you, and you gasp, falling forwards into his chest while he fucks up into you.
You reach up towards his wrists, tugging the release ties, and Niki surges up before you even have a chance to sit back on him. He rolls you over onto your back, hooking his hands under your knees and pushing them up, folding you in half. He plants his hands into the mattress with your knees hooked over his elbows, and you stare up at him with wide eyes as he slowly pulls out, then slams back into you. He sets a somewhat eager pace, faster than he usually takes you, and you find yourself gasping for breath as you grasp at the sheets beneath you.
“Niki!” You cry, and he groans, leaning down to kiss you surprisingly softly considering how roughly he’s pounding into you. It’s a pretty stark contrast to the sex you’ve had over the past many months, and more reminiscent of the desperate and lust-charged fucking of your early days together.
“I love you.” He murmurs against your lips, “I’m going to fuck a baby into you, mausi. My perfect little wife.”
You can’t form words, but there are tears in your eyes as you try to catch your breath. He kisses them away, dropping his hand between you to stroke your clit, and pressing his forehead to yours.
“Nod if you’re okay, mausi.”
You nod firmly, and he nuzzles his nose against yours, then kisses you again, moaning into your mouth as he gets closer. You finally find your words as you’re about to come, crying against his lips, “I love you too, Niki!”
It’s the last conscious thought you have for the next few minutes. You come back to yourself as Niki is rolling you both over, laying back on the mattress with you on top of him, your face tucked into the curve of his neck. You can feel the warmth of his cum buried inside of you, deep enough that it’s not yet leaking back out. Your husband pets your hair gently, adjusting you just a little so he’s no longer buried inside of you to avoid either of you getting oversensitive and achey. You hum sleepily, and Niki presses a kiss to your temple, his chest rising and lowering rapidly as he tries to catch his breath. You pull the blankets up over the both of you, and Niki strokes your back as you both settle in to go to sleep, too tired to move.
And six weeks later, you find yourself sitting in your doctor’s office with your very proud husband as your doctor tells you that you are, in fact, pregnant. Niki swears he got it done with that first stellar fuck after returning from his testing with Ferrari, but you couldn’t care less, pleased as punch to find yourself pregnant so quickly. Soon, you’ll have a baby Lauda in your arms.
Who would have ever thought that you’d meet your future husband when you went to do a favour for your best friend? Who knew you’d meet your future baby daddy at one of your least favourite sports?
Niki still got blushy when you told him you knew he was yours the moment you set eyes on him, even now, months into your marriage. It was true, though. You knew the moment you saw him - the moment he inspired you, and captured your creative eye. He was your rat, and you were his mouse, and you had the rings to prove it.
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Baby Blue
Pairing: Logan Sargeant x fem!reader
Warnings: Slight cursing, not edited
Word count: 3.8k (this was supposed to be short 😭)
Summary: Logan had just misspoke, shouldnt have been a huge problem, right? Wait, what do you mean he said he had a daughter? And is that his girlfriend?
Authors Note: Surpise, not a whiv chapter but instead, an uncharacteristically sweet fic.
Logan had fucked up. Royally. And he knew that, which is why, the second the words had left his mouth, he was grimacing, gaze quickly switching over to Oscar who was sat a few yards away with wide eyes.
It was the United States Grand Prix. Austin, Texas. Logan had been put on the media panel that day since he was the only American present and had the most connection to Austin, Daniel Ricciardo not included.
By pure luck or maybe by sheer will, Logan had been sat next to Oscar, both grateful to have a friend next to them. Fortunately, on Oscar’s other side was Max, a driver who’d always been respectful toward the American. Lewis completed the quartet, another driver that Logan wouldn’t have to worry about in terms of kindness.
When the panel started, almost none of the questions were for him. He’d expected that, he wasn’t exactly having an overwhelming season. Especially compared to the joys and successes of the Red Bull world champion or the unexpected high-placing finishes of the Aussie next to him. And his woes were nothing to write home about when placed next to the declining team performances from the 7-time world champion and future Ferrari driver.
So, as he had expected, most of the questions were asked to his left.
But he’d been put on the panel for a reason, and eventually an America-related question did arise, signaling that maybe he would be of use today.
“Good morning,” the reporter calls out toward Logan and he smiles with a nod toward the darkness where the reporters are all sat.
“Morning.”
“How’s it feel to be back racing in America? You have any family or special guests in the garage this weekend, giving you that extra boost?”
Oscar nudges his knee with his own, causing Logan to let out a small laugh as he glances over. He actually did have some special guests in the garage, not just his own family, who’d come from Miami for this, but also, you, his Fiancée. And his 4-year-old daughter, of course.
Your entire family lived in Texas. So whenever you werent following Logan around the world, you landed back home in Texas, the family home being the best place for your daughter to grow up. It helped that your parents loved her more than the world, constant presents being rained down on the little girl every time you’d bring her. He hadn’t seen you in about two months, not having had a time to come back to America since summer. So having you in his garage for the first time in a while was all that much more of a motivator for him.
He raises the microphone to his lips to say a paraphrased version of that, your relationship not being a very public one yet. Logan wanted to get the wedding done before he paraded you around, not wanting to add the stress of the public on your already existing stress from wedding planning and taking care of your daughter.
“It’s always great to get back home, you know? Uh, got to stay with some family out here for a few days, got some good southern food in me, which was great,” Logan laughs lightly, watching as the reporters grin widens, “And it always feels different when you’ve got important people in the garage, cheering you on. People who don’t usually get to make it, so that’s really nice.”
The reporter nods as Logan puts his mic down, but she raises hers to further the questioning, “Anyone specific? A lot of people were curious about a few different people in your garage.”
Logan nods, your family was pretty well known, especially in Texas. You weren’t famous or anything, but you’d grown up like Logan and when people have that type of money, their names get spoken pretty often.
“Yeah, some close family and friends. You’re probably asking about the l/n’s and I, um, knew them growing up so it’s really nice to see them out here supporting me,” Logan pauses slightly. The internet was pretty sure he had a girlfriend, not that he’d confirmed anything. It wasn’t hard to figure out though, as he almost never shut up about you. But it wouldn’t hurt if he mentioned having a girlfriend, right? Everyone already knew that anyway, it couldn’t do too much damage, “My girlfriend’s here, as well. Really happy to have her here, she hasn’t been to a race in a while.”
Oscar snorts, making Logan glare at the Aussie. Oscar knew you were more than his girlfriend, having been present at the engagement. He also knew Logan was leaving out a key family member in his list, a certain baby being completely unmentioned.
“Well it’s always nice to have your family, right?” The reporter nods with a kind smile, jotting something down on her notebook.
Logan nods with a matching smile, eyes shining as he thinks about you and your family in the garage, “Yeah, and I mean, my daughter-“
Logan pauses, stomach dropping as he takes in the slip-up. He glances over to Oscar whose eyes are wide with shock, mouth dropped open slightly. Max leans forward to lock eyes with the American from Oscars other side, eyebrows furrowed. Lewis looks his way as well, but his expression is soft as he takes in the younger man’s evident embarrassment.
Logan had fucked up.
His cheeks are bright red as all the eyes in the room stare at him, questioning looks on their faces. Logan laughs slightly, rubbing the back of his neck as he looks back out toward the reporter who’s now wearing an incredulous smile, “Shit.”
This breaks some of the shock in the room, laughs ringing out from in front of him. Logan shakes his head with another embarrassed laugh, “My girlfriends gonna be so mad at me.”
Logan drops the mic next to him, reaching his hands up to shield his face in order to avoid some of the embarrassment. Oscar, still laughing, reaches over to pat him on the back, his free hand stifling the laugh threatening to escape his throat.
Luckily for Logan, they run out of time before the questions can get back to him and the surprise child he just revealed he had. He’s quick to rush out of the room, only pausing to allow Oscar to catch up before he’s gone again, practically running to Williams.
He can hear Oscar struggling to keep up behind him, shocked laughs occasionally echoing out as he runs.
“Logan- Come on, slow down man!” Oscars calling out toward the blond, Logan continuing at his fast pace. He only slows when he makes it to hospitality, Oscar slamming on his brakes in order to avoid crashing into the taller mans back.
Logans eyes scan the room in search of you, Oscar reaching a tired arm up to rest agaisnt the distressed Americans shoulder.
Oscars groaning as Logan walks off, apparently having caught sight of your family.
“Hi, Mrs. L/N,” Logan says shyly as he walks up to your mom, a sheepish smile painted on his flushed face. Your mom turns toward him with a smile but after taking in his guilty demeanor, she looks at him suspiciously.
“You’ve known me for 18 years and you’ve never called me Mrs L/N,” your mom looks your fiancé up and down, eyes narrowing as she catches sight of an equally nervous Oscar, “What did you do, Logan? And why did you drag Oscar into it?”
Logan laughs nervously, glancing back at Oscar who ducks his head, looking away from the interaction, “Do you, maybe, know where y/n is? It’s important.”
Your mom pauses, suspicion still rolling of her in waves. But, sensing Logan’s urgency, she nods, “She’s in your room with Nat.”
Logan can’t help the smile that shows at the mention of your daughter’s name, sighing slightly with relief, “Thank you, I need to go talk to her.”
Your mom just nods, watching as Logan starts to walk quickly away, moving toward you in his room. Oscar moves to follow but your mom is calling him back before he can take a step, “Stay here, Oscar. Let him go, you’re going to tell me about the season. Either that or you’ll be the one to tell me what Logan did.”
Oscar, having had plenty of conversations with your mother while growing up, sighs, accepting his fate, “It’s been good.”
Logan, though, has made it to his room, opening the door quietly as he reaches it. He smiles once he looks inside, being met with you dancing around with your daughter, music playing from your phone on the table. As the door opens, your daughter looks over, a grin breaking out on her little face as she practically lights up, “Daddy!”
Logan grins as your daughter jumps up, sprinting over to jump into her dad’s embrace, giggling as he lifts her up into the air, clutching her gently to his chest, “Hi, baby. You having fun with mama?”
Your daughter nods, smiling brightly as she turns to look back at you, “Yeah! Me and mama went to see the cars and they let me sit in it! I wanna be a driver like you, dad.”
Logan grins, looking over to where you’re stood, a small smile on your face as you watch the interaction. When you catch Logan’s gaze on you, you speak up, “They let her sit in your car. They told her about how her daddy races every weekend and she decided that that’s what she wanted to do. She said you’re the coolest person she knows, now.”
Logan laughs, warmth filling his heart as you recap your daughter’s words, “Just don’t tell her Oscar races, too. Can’t have her thinking he’s cooler than me.”
You daughter looks up at the statement, confusion crossing her face, “Uncle Os drives fast too?”
Logan hums, nodding as he sways, your daughter resting her head on his chest, “Yeah, he does. He’s not as cool as me, though.”
You daughter hums, “I think he’s pretty cool.”
You laugh, moving toward the father-daughter pair, a serious look crossing your face, “He is, baby. Do you want to go see him so I can talk to daddy?”
Logan grimaces but lets go as your daughter nods, letting you set her down. She wraps her small hand around one of your fingers, swaying happily at the idea of seeing her Australian uncle.
You push the door open to go find Oscar but when you look up, you see Oscar’s already stood there. He looks exhausted and Logan knows that a conversation with your mom was no doubt the reason why.
“Uncle Ozzy!” Your daughter’s small voice calls from below you, causing a bright grin to burst onto Oscar’s face as he picks her up, the small girls hands immediately moving to push against his face. Oscar laughs, moving an arm to support the small girls weight as she pushes his face around.
You smile at the pair, laughing as your daughter grasps Oscars hair in her small fists and pulls gently, just watching as his head rolls around, “Can you watch her? I have to talk to Logan.”
Oscar smirks, glancing over your shoulder to see Logan standing sheepishly, “Someones in trouble.”
You hum, small smile on your lips, “Can you just hang with her for a minute?”
“Yeah, I can,” Oscar says, smiling down at your daughter in his arms, “Anything for my favourite American.”
You hear Logan mumble “rude” under his breath, warranting a snort from you as you watch Oscar walk away, no doubt about to parade your daughter around to anyone who'd listen.
You turn back around, coming face-to-face with Logans grimacing form, “Saw the panel.”
Logan winces, rubbing his hand along the back of his neck, “Yeah?”
You hum, stepping across the room to reach your fiance, “Mhm, I did.”
“Im sorry,” Logan sighs, looking anywhere but at you.
You can't help the small laugh that escapes you at his clear distress. Logans head snaps up, confusion crossing his face at your apparent glee, “What?”
“Im not mad, Lo,” you laugh, wrapping your arms around his neck. He stares at you, a puzzled look stuck on his previously fear-stricken face.
“You’re not?”
You smile up at him, shaking your head, “I mean, it's not how I would’ve wanted to announce it but I don’t mind too much.”
“Really?” You giggle when you catch the relief on his face, his shoulders dropping dramatically.
“Mhm,” you tangle one of your hands in the hair at the nape of his neck, his head tilting slightly back into your touch, “It was nice to be private for a while during the engagement. We didn’t have concrete wedding plans and Nat was so young. But the weddings basically planned and Nats old enough to handle herself in public, I think it’s a really good time, actually. Do you want to say something official?”
“I will, but until then I’d be happy to not have to hide you guys,” Logan grins, a hand reaching up to grasp the side of your face. You blush as he presses a soft kiss to your forehead.
“That sounds lovely,” you say, untangling yourself from his hold, “But, for now, I think you have interviews to attend to.”
“Yeah, yeah, I do,” Logan replies, but his gaze is still locked on you, love filling his eyes, “I’ll see you in a minute, I love you.”
“Love you too, Lo. Go do your interviews,” Your soft smile shines, lighting up your face.
Logan nods, moving to exit the small room, stopping to send you another grin. You laugh, pushing him out of the room, the door sliding closed behind him.
He moves on practical auto-pilot, feet carrying him to the media pen, thoughts of his family stuck on his mind. He reaches the pen quickly, spotting a group of about 8 drivers all huddled together in a chat. He thinks about walking the other direction but Max spots him first, gesturing for the younger driver to walk over. Logan agrees reluctantly, making his way to his fellow drivers.
“Logan!” Max calls, a smile on his face as he greets the Williams driver warmly.
Logan nods, smiling at Max politely, “Hey, Max.”
Max grins, throwing an arm around the blond driver, “How are you doing?”
Logan hums with a small smirk, knowing exactly what Max was eluding to, “I’m great, actually. Thanks for asking, Max.”
Max tilts his head with a wide smile, raising an eyebrow, “Yeah?”
“Yeah, I mean, you know how my morning went.”
Max seems to catch that Logan’s allowing him to publicly address the situation in front of the other drivers, turning his attention to the slightly confused drivers around them, “How’d the Mrs feel about it?”
“She was fine with it,” Logan smiles, “Honestly kinda happy to be open about it.”
“I didn’t know you had a girlfriend,” Lando says from across the small circle, a confused look occupying his face.
Logan shakes his head lightly, arms crossed across his chest, “Fiancée, actually. Been engaged for like a year now.”
This sends a wave of shock around the group, Daniel being the only one to pipe up, a huge smile on his face, “I know what this is about!”
George turns to the VCARB driver, a questioning look laying beneath his dramatic sunglasses, “What are you talking about?”
Before Daniel can explain, a high-pitched voice yells out from behind Logan.
“Daddy!”
Several drivers turn, being met with the sight of a small girl sprinting her way toward the group, a smiley Oscar trailing along behind her. The girl giggled as she approaches her father, skipping along happily as she gets near him. Logan leans down, opening his arms to let her walk into his grasp. She wraps her arms around his neck and Logan holds her tightly as Oscar stops behind him.
“Hey baby,” Logan says to his daughter as he looks down at her, “Have a good time with uncle Osc?”
The small girl nods excitedly, grinning as she looks back over to the man she’d spent the past 15 minutes with, “Ozzy took me to the orange garage, um, papaya I think actually, and I got to sit in another car!”
Logan hums, running a hand through the girls hair, trying his best to swipe it back into place, “Yeah?”
“Uh huh, it was really fun!”
Logan smiles, turning back to thank Oscar for looking after the girl. He turns back around, catching the gaze of about 8 different F1 drivers, all with varying levels of shock painted on their faces, “I don't know if you guys saw, but, um, I accidently revealed i had a daughter this morning and, um, this is her?”
Max is the first to laugh, having already been through his shock about the young girl currently attached to her father. Logans face heats as the drivers stare, Nat burrowing her head in her fathers neck as she tries to discreetly glance at the men around her without having to make any eye contact.
“Congrats, man,” Daniel grins, moving over to clap the younger driver on the back. Logan chuckles slightly as your daughter finally moves her head away from him, her curiosity at the Aussie overtaking her shyness.
The honey badger smiles at her, nodding his head. She smiles gently, reaching a small fist out toward the man. Daniels eyes widen at the gesture, eyes glancing between the girl and her outstretched arm before he reaches his own hand up to fist-bump hers. She nods with a satisfied smile, turning back toward Logans neck.
“He’s kinda cool, I think,” She mumbles and Logan smiles glancing over to see if Daniel has heard her words. Based on the increased grin on his face, Logan figures he had.
The rest of the drivers take their turns congratulating Logan on his fatherhood and introducing themselves to the small girl, her favourites being Daniel, Max, George and Alex, who she’d already met in the Williams garage over the past few months.
Eventually, all the socializing caused her to fall asleep against her father's chest, her tired eyes slowly drifting closed. Logan sways slightly, trying his best to soothe her in her slumber.
Once she's fallen asleep, he turns to Oscar, "Do you know where y/n is?"
Oscar nods, "I think she'd fallen asleep when I went to drop Nat back off. Didn't want to wake her so I just brought her over here."
Logan nods, glancing over to see the other drivers getting pulled into interviews. He didn't want to wake you, knowing how little sleep you'd been getting lately with all the wedding planning and your daughter. Anyone else in your family would be too hard to find on such short notice.
So, when his pr officer calls him over to do interviews, he holds Nat a little bit tighter, hoping the interviews don't wake her.
He smiles at the shocked interviewer as she hands him a microphone which he holds in his free hand, trying his best to support your daughter with one arm.
"Morning," Logan nods, voice low.
The interviewer nods slightly, shaking herself out of her shock so she can ask the American some questions.
"Good morning!" Logan thanks his lucky stars as the woman catches his drift and tries her hardest to stay cheerful while keeping her voice relatively quiet, "I had a couple questions about the panel from this morning but it seems you've answered them yourself before I could even ask."
Logan laughs, glancing down at his girl before bringing the microphone to his lips, "Yeah, my girlfriend was asleep and I didn't want to wake her so this girl is joining us today."
The interviewer smiles warmly, "Before this I saw she was hanging out with some of the other drivers?"
"Yeah, yeah, she was. She, uh, had a good time getting to meet some of the grid. But, you know, all the socializing tired her out."
The woman in front of him nods again, glancing over his shoulder at who Logan knew to be Max, getting asked questions across the pen, "How'd they react?"
"I think they were pretty surprised, you know? I don't think a lot of them saw the panel from this morning and even then, I didn't really give much of an explanation. Don't think Max even believed me until Oscar brought her over," Logan laughs, grinning lovingly at the girl starting to stir in his arms.
"Hi baby," Logan says gently, watching as the little girl rubs at her eyes, trying to pull the tiredness from them.
"Hi Dad, where'd Ozzy go?"
Logan glances over his shoulder, looking for the Australian in question. He eventually sees him, turning his body so Nat can see him as well,
"Uncle Osc is just over there, angel."
The girls nods, a frown still on her face from having to wake up, “What about Maxy?”
Logan grins, happy that his daughter was already comfortable with his fellow drivers, even going as far to seek Max out. Logan turns straight around, pointing behind them at the Red Bull driver, "He's there. And Danny's next to him."
The girl nods, a satisfied look on her face as she spots her new friends. Logan turns back to the interviewer, the grin not leaving his face.
Max, meanwhile, is in the middle of an interview when he notice the interviewer looking over his shoulder. Max looks at the man in front of him with a confused look, the man quick to explain.
"Think the newest addition to the paddock is looking for you, Max."
Max looks over his shoulder to see a small girl, chin resting on her dad's shoulder as she stares back at Max. When he turns to see her, she grins, moving a small hand to wave excitedly at the driver before moving to tug at her father's hair, looking for his attention.
Max grins, waving back as Logan looks over, indulging the girl. She laughs happily, getting even more excited as she spots Daniel beside him.
"Maxy! Danny!" Max looks beside him and sees that Daniel hasn't noticed your daughters yelling and he quickly leans to the side, poking the Aussie. Daniel turns to the side to see what Max wants but is instead met with Max pointing vaguely across the pen. Daniel glances over and grins when he sees Logan and his daughter, the smaller of the two waving hurriedly at the pair of drivers.
Daniel waves back, a grin practically splitting his face. The interviewer sends him a questioning glance and he laughs lightly, "Seems we've got a new cheerleader, then."
The interviewer laughs, quickly returning to the questions. Max, after waving bye to your daughter, turns back as well.
Your daughter, now properly noticed by her new favorite drivers, turns back around, letting Logan get back to his questions. She wraps her arms around his neck gently, smiling in satisfaction as she leans up to tell him something.
"I like your friends, dad."
Logan smiles warmly, happy to see her getting along with his coworkers, "I'm glad, baby."
———————————————
@casperlikej @evie-119
#scheduled#f1 fanfic#f1 fic#f1 imagine#f1 x reader#f1 x female reader#f1 x y/n#f1 x you#logan sargent fluff#logan sargeant x you#logan sargent x reader#logan sargeant x fem!reader#logan sargeant x reader
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Initiation pt.2
(football team x bttm cheerleader male/ftm reader)
(note: currently healing from pneumonia, but i'm back, i missed you sluts so much haha)
You gulped as you stared up at their musky cocks and sweaty faces. You thought initiations would be like drinking gross drinks or being pranked by the seniors...not...this. But who said you were complaining? You sucked on Ivan's cock as Gerald started going to town on your lower half. Gerald lightly prodded his tongue on your throbbing hole and started to eat you out.
You squeaked on Ivan's cock, the noise vibrating on his sensitive rod making him groan loudly. The twins looked over at you with devious grins on their faces, Luke slightly pushes Lucas to the side, making Lucas scoff and push Luke back. "Hey, I'm gonna get a handjob from him first!" Luke protested as Lucas stuck out his tongue at him.
The twins proceeded to bicker back and forth as Daniel stands in front of you, his face was red and embarassed. Ivan chuckles at his face, Ivan's blue eyes look down at you, groans bubbling from his throat whilst he's trying to speak. "This cutie has enough room in his mouth for the both of us, Danny. Get your knob slobbered over by this one."
Ivan's southern accent came out, his precum bursting in your mouth. Soft and lewd moans and whimpers came out muffled in your mouth as you felt Gerald lick a sensitive part of your hot, dripping sex. Ivan shoved more of his cock down your throat, the way that his cock curved over to the right scratched your throat...gosh, you won't be able to yell cheers for weeks after this.
Daniel shook his head at Ivan's offer, his hands over his boner as he refused to use you even though how enticing you looked right now...
Your mind was melting from the heat of the hot intimacy happening to your previously virgin body, you jerked your head back into Ivan's fat cock as Gerald's tongue prodded on your hole.
Daniel was going insane over your lewd expression as you were getting overstimulated. Ivan laughs at Daniel's unreadable face, "Too scared to fuck this cutie? C'mon, we gotta help him become the best cheerleader!" Ivan said with a deep laugh.
Gerald then pulled Daniel to his side, your aching and throbbing hole was presented to him lewdly. "C'mon Cap...relax for once and fuck this tight and delicious hole." Gerald offered to Daniel.
Daniel gulped heavily, his sweaty hands grabbed your soft yet muscular thighs which made his cock twitch. He pushed your legs apart easily, your flexibility made his cock twitch once more as he stared at your pretty hole that was winking at him.
"Cap, c'mon, fuck his little brains out! You starin' at his ass like you fallin' in love...I mean, shit I would too." Gerald stated jokingly whilst the others agreed. Daniel glared at him briefly as he felt his heart pump in jealousy.
He had to be honest. Ever since the first day of college, when he saw you dressed up like a stereotypical preppy cheerleader, he always used to scoff at those people, but you...you were just so...fucking cute and so nice.
The way you waved and smiled at him as he was just looking at you whilst he was walking in the campus, the way that you randomly gave him his favorite drink before a football match to 'boost your energy!'...why are you so fucking cute?
Daniel's hazel eyes shined as he grabbed your hips and the hot tip of his cock prodded against your throbbing hole. "I-I'm...gonna go in now." He said, his voice cracking in the process.
Your sex twitched cutely, it was like you saying 'go ahead, use me', Daniel's cock and heart throbbed as he accidentally roughly shoved his long and thick cock in your sex, making you moan loudly and your eyes tear up.
Ivan groaned as he felt the vibrations of your moans on his sensitive cock, making more precum ooze into your warm mouth. He laughed, "Woah there Cap'! I always knew you were a rough guy in the field, but I didn't know it was with sex too!" They all laughed as Daniel panicked slightly.
He soothingly rubbed the side of your hips with his rough hands as you relaxed around his cock. "I-I'm sorry, I didn't mean to hurt you." Daniel said, panic and worry evident in his face. You grabbed his hand and placed it on your chest, almost like you saying that it was alright.
Daniel felt his face heat up even more as he started thrusting into you at a gentle pace, his hand started groping your pretty chest, tweaking your cute nipples, making your sex spasm around him. His eyes furrowed in frustration, 'Goddamnit...you're so cute.' He thought as he started thrusting faster.
The two twins finally ended their squawking and decided to let your two hands pleasure them both. Luke moaned softly as he felt your soft hand gently massage his cock, whilst Lucas used your other hand vigorously to pump his dripping cock.
Ivan pulled Gerald next to him and Gerald whipped out his thick and girthy cock, "I'm gonna pull out of your mouth for a sec' babe...'cuz you're gonna worship both our cocks." You nodded mindlessly as Ivan pulled his cock out of your mouth with a lewd pop.
You started licking Gerald's fat and musky cock and kissing Ivan's long rod. At this point, your mind has melted like butter. All of the football team was using you like a sex toy, whether or not if they were rough or not, they were so good at what they were doing...at football and sex.
Everyone started speeding up their pace as you slobbered onto Gerald's cock, making him groan. Ivan jerked off his cock on top of your face, his precum dripping onto your cute, fucked out face.
The two twins moaned loudly as they used your soft hands to jack off their cocks, Daniel started fucking you animalistically, making you moan loudly on the two cocks that were in your mouth now.
Everyone started moaning aggressively, as if they were doing the hardest and toughest of practices and drills...well...technically they were, just with you. You felt their cocks chub up as you felt an orgasm build up in your sex.
The final stretch, your eyes rolled to the back of your head as they all started spurting ropes of cum onto your body and into your mouth. You gulped down the cum in your mouth, your mind was working on autopilot at this point.
They all panted heavily as Daniel was still fucking you like an animal, your sticky hands went to his back as he adjusted your position for you to look at his face. Your cum stained face was so cute...Daniel hugged you whilst closing his eyes.
"Damnit...you're too cute!" He said whilst he came agressively into you, along with him, you also had your orgasm, making you moan lewdly and hug him back. You all panted heavily as Daniel pulled out of your used hole.
They all looked at each other and smiled in a smug way, telepathically saying to each other, 'Holy shit, we just fucked the cutest cheerleader.'
The two twins carried you to the showers where they cleaned your body. Gerald and Ivan brought you some clean clothes and snacks, you blushed a bright red as after they were fucking you like no tomorrow, they were now treating you like a prince.
The whole team made you relax as they cracked up jokes and silly stories as Gerald massaged your aching body. After a while, the whole team waved goodbye to you as they went home. Except Daniel.
Daniel sat next to you in silence, his face was flushed as he silently handed you his phone. "Please give me your number..." He said softly as you blushed. "O-okay...um...I can't believe you'd want to have sex with me again after absolutely wrecking me." You joked out with shy chuckle.
"N-No! I want to go on a date with you...that's why I asked for your number." Daniel said nervously. "Oh." You muttered out as you shakily typed in your phone number in his phone.
"T-Thank you!" He said quite loudly, he winced at himself as he stood up and suddenly kissed your soft lips. He pulled away with a shocked expression, as if he was shocked at himself for kissing you. "B-...Bye!" He blurted out as he left the locker room.
You placed your hand on your lips, and smiled slightly. You squealed softly. "Cute..."
.
.
.
(THIS IS SO BAD I'M SORRY GUYS.)
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“morning mr. shelby.” — tommy shelby x reader ⋆｡˚
tommy shelby x fem!reader
you meet tommy as a nurse during the war, but happens when he realizes that he’s known you all along? (loosely based around some s1 plot points, but all set before the war)
18+ minors dni please! angst, fluff and smut
cw: mentions of war, shooting, stabbing, suturing, ptsd, friends to lovers, eventual smut, p in v sex, unprotected sex (wrap it before you tap it!!), slight breeding kink
word count: 5.4k+ (sorry lmao)
a/n: ahh first fic alert!! i’m so excited for you guys to read this! don’t be a ghost reader and lmk if you want to be added to my tag list for future tommy/cillian stuff!! 💌
you met tommy shelby during the war. he was a soldier, you were a wartime nurse. before the war, you had obviously heard of him. tommy shelby, leader of the fucking peaky blinders. arrogant bastards.
you lived in small heath, and everyday you’d pass him on the street. and everyday, you’d smile and say, “morning, mr. shelby.” and everyday, he would barely look up at you. you were sure he wasn’t even aware of your existence. prick.
your parents had always told you to stay away from the shelby boys. your dad would say that “they’re dangerous and make whores out of innocent girls” and your mum would make some comment about “the shelby men and their stupid cocks and their stupid judgements”.
they were the most intimidating people in all of small heath, possibly in all of birmingham. truth be told, there was a certain charm to them that you couldn’t shake off. well, to one of them. tommy shelby. you couldn’t tell if it was because he was your age, or because he was powerful and strong, or simply because he was strictly off limits. or because of his piercing blue eyes.
everyone in small heath knew tommy. but you knew tommy. he didn’t know you, though. you could tell if was him by the way he exhaled or by the sound of his footsteps or by the way he held a cigarette in his hand, the peaked cap on his head, a hand in his coat pocket. you despised tommy shelby, but god, was he fucking irresistible.
when men were drafted for the war in france, it was common sense that they’d need someone to tend to their cuts and bruises. you’d decided to volunteer, and after a couple weeks of training, you were right there, in the field. practicing on dolls and bags of rice and flour was nothing compared to what you saw. what you heard.
your first day in france was… eventful, to say the least. some commander had led you to the medical tent, and you were welcomed by the screams of hurt soldiers, blood and panic. you were immediately assigned to a patient, who’d been shot in the chest. you tried your best, did everything you could have, but ultimately, he had just lost too much blood. you didn’t sleep that night, haunted by the bloodshed, by the pleas of the soldier to keep him alive, by the feeling of someone else’s blood on your hands. over time, however, you grew accustomed to having your pristine white uniform soiled with blood and mud.
a month or so after you’d started, you heard shouts outside the tent. “help! someone HELP, for FUCK’s SAKE!” this was a regular occurrence, but the voice the shouts came from didn’t sound wounded. you felt an instinctual need to go see what it was.
what you saw, though, was something you never expected to see. tommy shelby, with a comrade’s head in his lap, putting pressure on a wound in his shoulder. without hesitating, you helped tommy drag the soldier to a vacant bed in the tent. “what happened?” you asked, hurriedly. tommy was visibly panicked. “i- he- um, he got st-stabbed by… one of the germans… his name’s danny- daniel.” you looked in tommy’s eyes, trying to give him some semblance of comfort. “he’ll be okay.” you applied pressure on the wound, and luckily, the blood stopped flowing soon. you cleaned the wound up and looked to tommy. “i’m gonna have to disinfect the wound with alcohol, you might want to hold daniel down for this.” daniel was still delirious from the blood loss, but the pain would be excruciating. tommy braced himself. his hands firmly holding down daniel’s. you nodded before tipping the bottle over on the wound. danny thrashed around on the bed, screaming and cursing, struggling against tommy’s hold. you heard his voice over danny’s. “you’re alright, lad! y’er gonna be fine!”
tommy sat by his friend’s bedside as he came to. you tended to other patients in the meantime but eventually went over to talk to him. “i want to keep him here for the night, mr. shelby. make sure there’s no infection.” he looked at you, surprised you knew him. “you know who i am?” “of course i do, all of small heath knows you. what i didn’t expect was to have a run-in with you, here in france.” he scoffed at his own misery and spoke. “you don’t belong here. you should be home.” you rolled your eyes, even in his state, he managed to be cocky. “if i wasn’t here today, mr. shelby, who would save danny?” that seemed to shut him up. he was about to speak, before you heard your name from the other side of the tent. “y/n, we need you!” after having helped a soldier who looked like he had been mauled, you looked out to see it was nightfall, and tommy had left.
a couple days later, at about noon, john shelby, the youngest of the shelby brothers walked in, clutching his arm tightly. “do you need help, mr. shelby?” you called out. “yes, i-i’ve been shot.” he all but whispered. you rushed over with a tray of distilled alcohol, forceps and bandages. after an afternoon of agony and pain, you had finally managed to pull out the bullet form his arm, john’s face a clear representation of his relief. “oh my god love, if we were home, i’d marry you right now.” you laughed at the proposition. “mr. shelby, i think you’re still a bit delirious from the anaesthesia. besides, i’m your brother’s age.” he looked shocked. “what, you’re arthur’s age? really?? you look nothing like that old prick.” you couldn’t help but laugh yet again. “i’m not that old, jesus. i’m tommy’s age.” he sighed. “marry him then. lord knows he needs a girl.” you giggled as you gathered your things and walked away. “you amuse me far too much, mr. shelby.”
it felt like ages had passed before you saw tommy again. your back was towards the tent entrance but you knew who had walked in. his breath trembled and his footsteps felt a bit unsteady, but it was undoubtedly him. you waited to turn until he called out your name. “y/n, is it?” you turned around, to find his face and shirt covered in blood. “mr. shelby! what happened?” you rushed over to him, taking his hand and sitting his down on a bed. “i- i… killed a man today, y/n.” he looked down, he couldn’t bring himself to look at you. you didn’t respond, simply got up and grabbed a stitching kit and a bowl of warm water. “is all this blood yours?” was your first question. “no. most of it is his.” you sighed and searched his face to find a cut on his cheekbone, the source of his own bleeding. “i’m wiping away the blood now, okay?” tommy gulped and nodded, his eyes still trained on the ground. “mr. shelby, i want you to look at me.” it was as if he didn’t hear you. you spoke again, softer yet more authoritative this time. “tommy. look at me.” he finally brought himself to look into your eyes. in his eyes, you saw guilt, regret and fear. in yours, he saw compassion, love and a warmth that could engulf all his pain. “good.” you whispered. you wrung out a washcloth and began wiping the blood away from his face, using your other hand to hold his chin in place. his arms found themselves wrapped around your waist, in an attempt to ground himself. you didn’t say anything, but your eyes told him that you didn’t mind. in that moment, you saw a different version of tommy shelby. you didn’t see ‘tommy, the criminal’, ‘tommy, the gangster’ or ‘tommy, the womanizer’. you saw tommy, a good man, an honest man. you felt his arms tighten around your waist as you pulled your hands away from his face, as if he was afraid you would dissipate into thin air. “tommy.” you whispered. “i’m gonna have to stich that wound up. it might hurt.” but he didn’t mind pain, not if you were the one inflicting it. “okay.” he spoke, his voice deep. he rubbed circles into your skin with his thumbs, the pain making him hum. “sorry, almost done.” you finished the last stitch. “there. you’re all fixed.” tommy held you like that, his hands around your waist, icy blue eyes staring into yours. your arms rested on his shoulders and you leaned down to whisper to him. “tommy. people are staring.” “so? let them.” eventually, he reluctantly pulled away from you. “it’s time for dinner, and then lights out.” he smiled as he spoke, and slowly exited the tent, catching a glimpse of you as he left.
needless to say, you only grew closer over the next few weeks. you were inseparable. whenever tommy had free time, he’d make his way to the familiar tent, and talk to you. it was wartime. you were left hurt and traumatized and so was he, but you both found solace in each other’s company. you told him how you knew him, and how you’d wish him good morning every day, only to receive complete silence from him each time. he chuckled and apologized. he told you about the peaky blinders, what they did, how they ran their business. you bonded over your shared hunger for knowledge and stories. you told him everything you knew about art, history and literature; and he told you stories of fighting gangs in the streets and stealing contraband. his stories were always more thrilling than yours. you’d try to set each other up with people for fun. you’d introduce him to every nurse, telling them how he was fighting for his country, and of course, they fell prey to his charming eyes and dashing smile. they’d ask what he did back home, and as soon as you said the words ‘gangster’, they’d run in the opposite direction. he’d done the same for you. introduced you to other soldiers, and when you spoke to them, about art and literature, they’d call you ‘unladylike’ or ‘too ambitious for a man’. you both secretly liked it this way, it was like you were his and he was yours.
when he became sergeant major, you both celebrated together. he’d brought you a bottle of whiskey, and you spent the night, talking and giggling drunkenly. but soon, he was assigned to be a sapper and dig tunnels. you both knew that the germans were going to dig their own tunnels, and at some unfortunate point, the tunnels would converge. both of you realized the danger it held, but he had to do it. you tried to talk him out of it, though. “tommy, please!” “y/n, calm down.” “goddamn it tommy, think! you’re gonna get yourself killed! what the fuck are you doing?” “i’ll be alright.” “no, you won’t! what if you get hurt? what if they shoot at you, huh? i won’t be there underground to make sure you’re okay!” “y/n, i have to serve my country. i have to do this.” “tommy. i’m begging you, don’t do this.” he simply sighed and kissed your forehead and held your face in his hands. you held tightly onto his wrists as tears threatened to spill from your eyes. “shhh, i’ll be alright. in fact, i’ll write you.” you seemed to calm down at the idea of him writing you. at least you’d be updated on his condition.
the morning he went down to the tunnels, he came to see you. you were sorting gauze and bandages when you felt his presence near you. you turned around and ran to hug him. he buried his face in your neck and breathed you in. you could feel tears brimming your eyes. neither of you knew why you felt like this. you were just friends, right? “tommy michael shelby, i swear to god if you die, i’ll kill you myself.” you heard him chuckle. he took a step back and caressed your cheek. “you take care, darling.” you wished he wouldn’t leave, but in your heart, you knew he had to. a few hours after, you found a letter tucked under a book on your desk. you curiously pulled it out and opened it.
dearest y/n,
i know how much you hate that i’m going to be a sapper now. i want you to know, no matter what happens down there, i care for you, and i love you, unconditionally. i’ve loved you since the day i first met you. i can’t believe i was looking for love in whores and prostitutes when the love of my fucking life was saying the sweetest good morning to me every morning. i’ll protect myself, and i want you to protect yourself too since i can’t do that for the time being. if we survive this wretched war, i want to take you home, ask your father for your hand and marry you, sweetheart. you take care of yourself, alright?
all my love,
tommy shelby.
you couldn’t help but gasp at what you read. he loved you. tommy shelby loved you. the same tommy shelby that was too arrogant to say a word to you, the same tommy shelby that your parents told you to stay away from, the same tommy shelby was head over heels for you. you immediately looked for a piece of paper, a pen and some ink. you wrote a letter back and sent it with one of the workers heading down to the tunnels. you didn’t know what it was like down there, but you hoped your letters would keep him sane. meanwhile, tommy received your letter and opened it with the same enthusiasm you showed his letter. however, he was also filled with nervous energy. he had confessed his love for you, which was so incredibly out of character for him, but with shaky hands, he proceeded to open the letter.
dearest tommy,
to say that your letter was shocking would be an understatement. i never knew you felt this way for me. like i’ve told you on several occasions, my parents always told me to stay away from ‘your kind’ and as a good catholic girl, i obeyed them. but tommy, in these few months, i’ve seen a side of you i can’t ever forget. i love you too tommy, the real you. the honest, raw, genuine tommy that i get to see on late nights and in random moments on busy days. i’d love to marry you, just make it out alive of that damn tunnel, you prick.
only yours,
y/n.
tommy felt his eyes welling up as he read the words you had penned on the paper. it had been so long since he’d seen you, or heard your voice. he wanted you. he needed you. to keep him stable and sane. as the days passed, your and tommy’s letter exchange became more and more frequent, and you felt like even if you were in this goddamned lawless land of blood and chaos, you had tommy. and he was all you needed.
that was, until the letters slowed down. you kept writing him, but to no avail. he hadn’t sent you a letter in days, or weeks, you weren’t sure anymore. you’d almost lost hope, and spent entire nights grieving him. trying to remember the sound of his voice, the feeling of his hands on your waist, the smell of his cologne. you hadn’t heard his breath or felt his footsteps in a long time. the pain was almost unbearable, and some days felt like decades. but the only thought that kept you going was that you saw tommy in all the wounded soldiers you treated. they were someone’s tommy. and they needed to get home alive.
4 months. 4 whole months since you heard from tommy. you were convinced he was dead now. you spent your days bandaging and stitching wounds, yet you could never fix the wound tommy left in your heart. it was one of the hottest afternoons, the french sun blazing unmercifully. you were insanely busy with patients today, the war was almost ending, and the soldiers needed to be fixed up before they could go home. yet, no sign of tommy. you sighed, cursing yourself for holding out hope now for someone who would not return.
“can i have a nurse here?” you could recognize that damn voice anywhere. the deep voice that filled your ears, smooth like honey, you’d recognize that voice at the end of the world. you turned around. tommy. “hi, love.” he smiled. but his smile quickly changed into a frown when he saw your sobs. you took him to a quieter corner of the tent. you stepped closer to him. he went to put his arms around you. you slapped him across the face. “where. the FUCK were you, thomas michael shelby?!” he was incredibly confused. “l- love, what?” “i thought YOU DIED, YOU BASTARD. where were you?” the time you spent apart had changed you, and from his response, you could tell it clearly changed him. “i was TRYING to fucking STAY ALIVE for YOU.” he raised his voice at you. he never raised his voice. neither of you spoke for a while and tension filled the air between the two of you. “i should leave.” he spoke, his voice barely above a whisper. he left, and you let him.
after a few weeks, news broke that britain had won the war, and everyone went home. five years had passed since you last saw the familiar streets of small heath, and you were no longer a girl, but a woman. a woman who needed to get a job to survive in this city. you walked around and saw a flyer on the doors of the garrison. ‘BARMAID NEEDED.’ you walked in to find harry. he looked up pleasantly surprised. “y/n! haven’t seen you in a while, eh? what can i do you for?” “i’m here to get the barmaid job, harry.” he sighed.” y/n, this job isn’t suitable for a girl like you. these men, they’ve just come back from war, they haven’t seen a girl, let alone a pretty one like yourself, in ages. they’ll have you up against a wall within the first hour of your shift.” you looked at him desperately. “harry, please. i need this job, otherwise i’ll be out on the streets, which are surely worse than this pub. i was a nurse in france, i’ve dealt with these men. please?” he sighed again before nodding. “alright then, you start tomorrow.”
your first shift consisted of the usual alcoholics, men with ptsd, everything that was to be expected after a war. you hear the bells at the door ring as the familiar footsteps walk closer to the bar. without turning around, you ask, “what do you want?” he replies, “whiskey, scotc- y/n?” you finally turn around at the sound of your name falling from his lips. “yes, mr. shelby. so, scotch? on the house right?” he leans over so that just the two of you can hear. “don’t mr. shelby me. come on, love, talk to me.” “i have nothing to talk to you about.” as you poured him a glass of whiskey, he held your wrist assertively. “y/n. come.” you rolled your eyes and went to the shelby’s private booth. “what is it that you want, tommy?” “what the fuck do you mean ‘what do i want’? you, i want YOU. i need you. did ya lose your fucking mind in france like danny whiz-bang?” you felt your bottom lip trembling and your throat choking up. “i… i thought y- you were fucking dead. i mourned you. for MONTHS. i grieved over the death of the love of my life. of my future husband. of my future children that i’d have with him. and then, just as i’m making my peace with it, YOU have the fucking audacity to show up? you have some bloody nerve, tommy shelby.” the look in his eyes softened as he took a step closer to you. “no. don’t you dare come any closer to me, tommy, i’ll kill you.” you said, holding up the bottle of whiskey as a weapon. he embraced you, holding you tightly, his fingers stroking your hair. you resisted the hug and tried to push him away, only to find his grip on you getting tighter. “g- get away… from me, p- please… i- just” your voice came out muffled between sobs. tommy felt hot tears rolling down his own cheeks. “shhh, sweetheart. i’m okay, eh? i’m fine. i’m here, with you.” you dropped the bottle you were holding and it shattered into a million pieces on the ground. you stood there in his arms, crying for what felt like an eternity. you finally pulled away from him, and he wiped your tears with his thumbs. you laughed, but then lightly slapped his arm. “you scare me like that again, tommy, i swear i’ll kill ya.” “i’ll hold you to it, sweetheart.” he kissed your forehead, and you rested your forehead against his. he tentatively closed the gap between your lips and his, and you pulled him by the collar and kissed him with enough force to make him trip and fall. he managed to stay steady and kissed you back with equal fervour. he spoke between kisses. “i *kiss* spent *kiss* every *kiss* second *kiss* thinking *kiss* of you.” you giggled. “i missed you too, tommy.”
he told harry that you’d be leaving the bar early that day, and dragged you out the bar while holding your hand, a smile on his face for the first time in a long time. “the great thomas shelby isn’t embarrassed to have a barmaid as his girlfriend?” you giggled. “never. and those who think i should be embarrassed can suck me cock.” he spoke proudly. he opened the car door for you, and you sat inside and waited for him to turn the ignition on. “where are we going, tommy?” “i want you to meet my family, love.” during the countless hours you spent together chatting, he told you about his family’s idiosyncrasies and stories about them. how arthur needed to be protected the most during fights because he was just as likely to hurt himself as he was to hurt someone else, how aunty pol’s instincts about love were never wrong, how john once fell in love with a prostitute and everyone laughed at him, how ada was the most rebellious and married a communist (who happened to be in of his best mates), and how finn always pretended to act like tommy, doing whatever his big brother did. you were excited to meet them of course, but anxious. they would be your family one day too.
he held your hand as he brought you in, everyone sitting around a table waiting for him. “does everyone just sit together like this?” you asked. “uh, no i called a family meeting for 3 pm.” tommy replied simply. “how did you know you’d be able to have me here by 3?” he winked at you. “i have my ways. and i know how much you love me.” he spoke in a singsong voice. you rolled your eyes at his schoolboy behaviour and waited for him to speak. “shelby’s, this is my girlfriend and soon to be fiancé, y/n.” he held his arm around your waist proudly, and you leaned up to kiss his cheek. you recognized arthur and john immediately from your time in the war. you assumed that the older woman was aunt polly, and the younger with the baby in her arms would be ada, leaving the youngest member of the family, finn. john came up to talk to you first, while tommy spoke with polly. “you know i didn’t really mean the ‘marry tommy’ thing?” you laughed as you replied, “i didn’t either, but fate works in weird ways, eh?” he agreed with you before talking to tommy. arthur was the next one to see you. “you and tommy, eh? if it wasn’t for the war, you two would probably never have met. i s’pose war isn’t all bad then.” “perhaps you’re right. i did find your brother to be arrogant before the war.” “that he is, y/n. that he is.” both of you looked over at him, engaged in conversation with everyone else. you fussed over the baby in ada’s arms. “awww, he’s precious! what’s his name?” “karl, after karl marx.” you shot her a look. “it’s unconventional, i know. but freddie really wanted it.” “it’s lovely.” finn rushed over to you and kissed your hand. you gushed exaggeratedly. “what a gentleman you are, finn!” “if tommy wasn’t here, you’d be my girlfriend, miss y/n.” you laughed at his childishness and ruffled his hair. “sure i would, finn.” the only person you hadn’t spoken to yet was aunt polly, arguably the most intimidating person of the family. “i have one question for you, y/n. how you answer it will determine if you’re fit for being a shelby. how do you think i kept this business up and running during the war?” you felt put on the spot but tried your best to answer. “um, well, to be quite frank, i’ve believed that women are better at business anyway. we know how to settle deals with whiskey and not fists or guns. and you seem like twice the man than most men i know anyway.” her lips twitched up into a smile as she looked to tommy. “oh, i like her already.” he held your hand in hers, and addressed tommy. “she seems like a lovely girl, do not fuck this up tommy.” tommy shook his head and laughed. “i’ll try, pol. i’ll try.”
you ate dinner with the shelby’s before you headed up to his house. “you sure you don’t want me to walk you home?” he asked for the hundredth time that night. “no tommy, i’m perfectly content spending the night with you. unless you’d like me to leave?” you questioned. “no no, stay, please!” he said, almost pleadingly. you looked around his bedroom when you reached his home. it was obviously a house, but it didn’t feel like a home. you frowned at your observation. “what’s wrong, y/n?” “this house isn’t a home yet, tommy.” “that’s because i want my first home to be with you. with our children. and as far as i’m concerned, you are my home.”
“care to dance?” he asked, holding out his hand. you looked at the gramophone in the corner. “that doesn’t look like it works, love.” you placed your hand in his. “so what? we can dance without music.” he said, holding your waist close to him, your hand on his shoulder. you leaned your head on his shoulder, both of you dancing in the silence, listening to the sound of each other’s breathing. “kiss me, tommy.” you whispered. he obeyed probably for the first time in his life and kissed your soft lips.
things escalated and you were now on tommy’s bed, tracing the sun tattoo on his chest, with him on top of you. “fuck me, tommy, please.” “your cunt wants this cock?” he growled. you moaned in his ear. “fuck, yes tommy, make me yours.” he stretched you out in the most blissful way. of course, you had used your fingers before, but nothing could replace the feeling of his cock. “god, please!” you moaned out, words slowly turning into incoherent sounds. tommy chuckled. “god can’t hear you now, sweetheart. not here.” he pistoned his hips into you just right and it wasn’t long before he found the spot inside you that made you scream. “t- tommy fuck! right there, please don’t stop!” “i wouldn’t dream of stopping, darling. my girl, so pretty all spread out for me. take it, love. take that cock.” the feeling of your impending orgasm coursed through your entire body, making you writhe in pleasure. “god, i’m so close tommy!” “good fucking girl.” his hand reached down to rub circles on your clit while he fucked you so good. “oh god, tommy, i’m not gonna be able to walk tomorrow…” “that’s the plan, sweetheart.” he spoke as he kissed hickeys on your neck, matching the ones you’d given him earlier. “come on love, make a mess on my cock.” as soon as he said that, you felt yourself falling apart, the tight band in your stomach snapping, uncontrollable moans of his name falling from your lips. “thank you tommy, thank you so much.” you moaned, drunk on the feeling of his cock inside you. “such an angel. who do you belong to, sweets?” he said, still pounding your cunt. “y- you, tommy. i belong to you!” “that’s right, sweetheart.” he whispered in your ear, “i love you, darling.” you moaned as you felt your second orgasm approaching. “tommy, fuck! i- i love you too!” “god i’m gonna cum inside you! you’d like that, eh? me getting you pregnant, all nice and round with my baby?” you felt your orgasm pulsing through you at his words. “yes, tommy! fill my womb up, please! i need it!” you heard tommy’s loud moans as he came inside you. “oh, such a good girl. took my cock so well, love.” tommy stayed on top of you for a while, his cock still inside you. “i’ve wanted to do that for five fucking years.” he spoke, voice muffled since his head was buried between your tits. you laughed, but the laughs quickly turned to moans as your sensitive cunt felt friction from tommy’s cock rubbing up against its walls. he pulled out of you slowly, watching his seed spill out of you. he eventually got up to get a warm washcloth and a glass of water for you. you drank the water as he cleaned you and himself up and pulled you into his chest. you pulled the covers over both of you, feeling your body flush against his. “that was amazing tommy, thank you.” “the pleasure is all mine, sweetheart.” he kissed your forehead.
ever since tommy came back from france, he had these recurring nightmares every night. of his time in the tunnels. the germans. his comrades. how he had to kill people with his bare hands. he could still hear the shovels digging the tunnels when he closed his eyes. when he was with you though, he could finally fall asleep. or so he thought.
you were awoken in the middle of the night by the sounds of a gasping tommy, suddenly sitting up. you felt groggy for a moment, having just woken up, but quickly sprung into action. you sat next to him, rubbing his back. “tommy, what’s wrong?” he didn’t speak. but he didn’t need to. you’d seen enough cases of ptsd from your time in the war to know what was happening to him. “you still see it, eh?” he only nodded. you laid back down and pulled him into your chest. he protested. “what are y-” “shut up.” you could tell, he was still a bit frantic, his breath still heavy. you spoke to him in a soft tone and you played with his fingers, his head on your chest. “listen to me. listen to the sound of my voice. feel my body against yours. you are home. you are safe. the war is over. the nightmares are just parts of your mind trying to scare you. but you’re stronger than that, eh? i’m here with you, and you don’t need to be scared. alright? i’m here with you, always.” he hummed, heavy eyelids slowly closing shut. being able to smell the scent of your perfume helped ground him. “good job, tommy. now sleep. i’ll be here with you when you wake up.” you managed to get him to go to sleep, but somehow convinced your mind to let you sleep light enough that if tommy were to have another nightmare, you’d be up immediately. fortunately, he didn’t wake up during the night.
he woke up to the sight of a sleeping you, the sun rays hitting you just right. he swore he could look at you forever. you felt his gaze on you and slowly opened your eyes. “how’d you sleep?” you asked. “like i hadn’t slept in years.” he replied.
“morning, mr. shelby.” you wished him, as you did, every day before the war. except this time, you were in his arms, in his bed. you kissed his lips softly. except this time, he finally wished you back.
“mornin’, sweetheart.”
#tommy shelby x reader#tommy shelby smut#cillian murphy x reader#cillian murphy smut#thomas shelby smut#thomas shelby#tommy shelby#thomas shelby fluff#tommy shelby fluff#tommy shelby angst#thomas shelby angst#peaky blinder fanfic#peaky blinders#peaky fookin blinders#peaky blinder imagine#peaky fucking blinders#peaky blinder headcanon#tommy shelby headcanon#tommy shelby fanfic#cillian x reader#cillian x fem!reader#cillian series#cillian smut#cillian one shot#cillian fic#cillian x y/n#cillian murphy#cillian fluff#anna’s boys
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He Must Be Lucky!
Max Verstappen x Reader
Genre: fluff and crack
Summary: Max gets wasted and can't remember that the reader is his wife. It's endearing how much he simps bith sober and drunk.
Warnings: Alcohol consumption, a wild party (at least for Max), Max being down bad
Notes: This one is for @amajixi! I hope you like it! Does anybody wanna send me asks and talk about drivers with me? Give me your most feral thoughts because I'm genuinely curious... please >_< (I even turned my anonymous asks back on please just send me things).
Side note: my fics haven't been getting much traction as they usually do. Is it something on my end? Have y'all disappeared on me? I know I shouldn't care, but y'all are the only ones that validate my writing T_T
Masterlist // Request Form // My Website // buy me a Ko-Fi
Max has a track record of partying hard. It's who he is, and she lives him for it. There isn't any kind of gripe of hang-up, just Max having fun and doing dumb shit that makes her laugh.
Lando is throwing a - well - a party. There was an excuse for it in the invitation, but she's too buzzed to remember it.
The echoing sound of Max's laughter ricochets off the walls. Daniel is with him, probably getting them into more trouble, but she knows Daniel will look after him. At least until he's trashed and can't get off the floor.
Alex brings her another shot glass. She has no idea what's in it, but Alex is letting loose, and she'll be damned if she doesn't partake.
He raises the shot glass in a toast. "To whatever this party is!" He cheers. They clink their glasses together and down the shots. She gags at whatever was in it.
"The fuck was that, Alex?!" She sputters.
He gives her a blank look. Really thinking hard about what he gave her. "I've got no idea."
The hours seem to tick by. The people are slowly dissipating, leaving the safety of this weird little bubble they've created.
She's lightly buzzed still, having danced off the majority of the shots Alex had her doing. The couch is her new best friend, and Lando had brought her a blanket at some point in the last twenty minutes.
A weight on the other end of the sofa catches her attention. Max, with complete adoration in his blue eyes, is staring at her. "Wow," he slurs. "You are the most gorgeous woman I have ever seen."
She laughs at his drunken thoughts. "You're not too bad looking yourself, babe."
The smile on his face is almost childish. It's big enough to almost fall off. His cheeks tinged a darker red with the blush adding to the alcohol flush.
"Go on a date with me? Please?" He tries to pout, but it ends up looking awkward mixed with the grin.
She flashes the ring at him. "Sorry, I'm spoken for." Alex and Lando are giggling from where they are watching this interaction unfold.
Max looks like a wounded puppy. Eye's glossing over like her might cry. "He must be such a lucky guy. You're just so perfect!"
"Awe, love, you wanna know a secret?" She leans in to whisper into Max's ear. "You married me."
If Max could hand you the world on a silver platter, he might have tried in this moment. The Dutch is vibrating in pure, unadulterated joy. Like a child who just got the ice-cream they were so desperately craving.
"Holy shit! I'm the lucky guy!"
Max smothers himself against your body. Eventually falling asleep, mumbling about how she's so amazing, and how he loves her so much. It's endearing to here his drunk affections laid bare for everyone to see.
It's the lullaby that calms her to a restful state. Fingers tangling with the softness of his hair. "You're not the only one who's lucky. I guess I'm pretty lucky, too."
#x reader#f1 fic#fanficion#formula 1#f1 fanfic#racing#max verstappen#max verstappen x you#max verstappen x reader#max verstappen f1#max verstappen imagine#max verstappen fanfic#mv1 x reader#mv33 x reader#mv33#mv1#mv1 imagine#redbull racing#redbull#redbull f1#redbull daniel#alex albon#lando norris#daniel ricciardo 3#super max#orange army#red bull f1#f1#f1 imagine#f1 x reader
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LOML
I have so many freaking requests, but i keep trying to write them on my phone and for some reason I can't edit asks on my phone atm. So, heres this for now:
daniel ricciardo x leclerc! reader
y/nleclerc
liked by charles_leclerc, arthur_leclerc, and 304,273 others
y/nleclerc if i turn up dead, this is why (happy birthday loser)
view all 7,421 comments
arthur_leclerc why am i being dragged into this?
y/nleclerc because you're a loser too
arthur_leclerc ouch
username1 the leclerc siblings are the best on the grid change my mind
charles_leclerc is this because...
y/nleclerc because it's your birthday and no other reason?
charles_leclerc ...
maxverstappen1 happy birthday Charlie
danielricciardo happy birthday man!
y/nleclerc
liked by maxverstappen1, charles_leclerc, and 371,993 others
y/nleclerc runs in the family
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username2 QUEEN IS SERVING
carlossainz55 red suits you
username3 CARLOS OMG
username4 THIS IS NOT HAPPENING
username5 carlos flirting with y/n leclerc wasn't on my 2024 bingo
danielricciardo she looks better in blue
username6 thank you for spending time with us fans!!
y/nleclerc
liked by danielricciardo, charles_leclerc, and 451,721 others
y/nleclerc i love my home
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charles_leclerc who took the picture, y/n?
y/nleclerc ...
arthur_leclerc who took the picture, y/n?
y/nleclerc ...
danielricciardo ❤
y/nleclerc ❤
username7 WHAT ABOUT CARLOS????
username8 WHO TOOK THE PICTURE Y/N PLS
username9 this... this gives me a headache (lovingly)
y/nleclerc
liked by arthur_leclerc, danielricciardo, and 492,928 others
y/nleclerc manifesting
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username10 soft launch?
y/nleclerc soft launch
danielricciardo salivating rn 💖
y/nleclerc defeats the object of the soft launch, danny
username11 y/n leclerc goes wild 😭
charles_leclerc my eyes need bleaching
arthur_leclerc mine too
y/nleclerc
liked by danielricciardo, arthur_leclerc, and 831,201 others
y/nleclerc hard launch i guess
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maxverstappen1 you stole my man
charles_leclerc does daniel like being murdered?
arthur_leclerc yeah, y/n, does he?
y/nleclerc you guys make me sad
username12 isn't there like a massive age gap?
username13 so??
username14 CALLED IT FROM MILES AWAY
y/nleclerc
liked by maxverstappen1, charles_leclerc, and 683,101 others
y/nleclerc maxverstappen1 this you? (your man was easy to steal)
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username15 she's so real for this
maxverstappen1 i... have no words
y/nleclerc i have that affect on people
danielricciardo two hotties fighting over my attention whatever will i do?
y/nleclerc this doesn't concern you, old man
y/nleclerc
liked by maxverstappen1, danielricciardo, and 702,157 others
y/nleclerc barking like a small angry dog rn
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charles_leclerc delete this
maxverstappen1 ok you win
arthur_leclerc Y/N YOU MADE YOUR POINT
charles_leclerc delete this now
username16 if y/n isn't at the next grand prix this is why
username17 i feel so fucking single rn
y/nleclerc
liked by danielricciardo, arthur_leclerc, and 891,120 others
y/nleclerc loml
comments have been disabled
(for context, comments are disabled so her brothers can't comment)
#daniel ricciardo#daniel ricciardo imagine#daniel ricciardo x reader#daniel ricciardo fluff#daniel ricciardo smut#daniel ricciardo x you#daniel ricciardo x reader smut#daniel ricciardo smau#daniel ricciardo social media au#f1#f1 imagine#f1 x reader#formula one#formula one imagine#formula one x reader#formula 1#formula 1 imagine#formula 1 x reader#f1 smau#f1 social media au#dr3#dr3 imagine#dr3 x reader
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Stop Growing Up
Pairing: Dad!Lando Norris x Mom!Reader
Rating: PG
Words: 1.2K
Warnings: None
Mini Lando Series Masterlist / Previous: Just the Beginning
A/N: Surpriseeeeee haven't written for Aiden and Lando in a hot minute
Tying his shoes, he couldn't help but stare at the pictures of his little boy. Little Aiden was growing up, and Lando had a hard time because his little boy wasn't so little anymore.
Staring at the pictures, he looked at the picture he had taken when you first saw your bump, the guys all over with you smiling brightly with a large bump, and then you holding Aiden. Lando moved, looking at the picture of him shirtless, exhausted, with tear-stained cheeks, and smiling brightly at the camera.
Carlos was in the next frame holding his godson, with a little chili plushie that Aiden was biting. Of course, Adam and Cisca were there, his sisters and brother, and even Mila sat next to her cousin. Lando missed those days, the days when Aiden was so damn happy when he saw Lando and squealed, kicking his feet and unable to wait to be held by his father.
Now Aiden just smiled, seeing his Dad, but Lando just guessed it had to be because he was now graduating high school and wasn't his father's little boy anymore. Sighing, Lando smiles as you walk into the bedroom, wearing an elegant but simple blue dress with sandals. Lando wore a pale blue button-up, black slacks, and dress shoes. His curls were no longer the vibrant color but lined with grey, and of course, he had grown out the beard again, chuckling when the kids made fun of him for it.
"Lando, you okay?" You knew how hard this was for him. It was his baby boy, all grown up. Lando always cried when the kids hit life milestones; he just wanted them to stay little. "Should we have another baby?" Earring slipping out of your hand, you curse and turn, glaring at him, but he isn't joking. Instead, he is very serious. "Lando, no. You're hitting 40. We're not having another child. Isn't four enough?" You tease, but Lando shakes his head.
"No, our firstborn is about to move to fucking Scotland. And now, our others are growing up too fast." Lando groans, rubbing his eyes with the palms of his hands. "Lando, Aiden is 17, for the love of god. Caleb, Will, and Odette are 14, 12, and 9 years old. Stop acting like they're all suddenly turning 18 and moving out." You bristle. Lando turns, pouting until he hears Caleb and Daniel yelling. "I've got it." He stops you, gets up, and heads to Caleb's room. He sees them fighting over a pair of shoes.
"They're mine, stupid!" "No, dingbat, they're mine!" Lando sighs, dropping the head and shaking it. "Hey, knock it off, or no going to the track with me this weekend." The boys stop fighting, knowing their father would be serious about his threat. "But, Daddddd," Caleb whines out the d, and Lando narrows his eyes. "Caleb, you're 14, don't whine. Will, whatever you started, apologize to your brother. And if you don't, so help me, god, I'll get Uncle Max involved." Will and Caleb swallow hard and nod their head.
Stepping down the hall, he hears them mumble and apologizes. Knocking on the door, he hears a soft come-in; smiling, he sees the bouncy curls of his baby girl as she plays with her dolls. Lando couldn't be happier that she took after you; he had three mini-mes, and finally, he got a mini-you. "Baby, are you all ready?" Odette turns and gives him a big, toothy grin, and he has to stop himself from laughing. She recently lost both her big teeth, and every time she smiles sh, she loses every tooth but those. She was pleased when she got a big gift from the tooth fairy.
"Yes, daddy. Aiden got me dressed." She stands wearing her favorite blue dress. It was a soft blue with little bows and sparkles everywhere. Uncle Max gave her a gift when he took her out for her birthday. "Okay, baby, you keep playing." Odette nods and sits back down, playing with her Barbies. Stepping out, he takes a deep breath, goes to the next room, and knocks, slowly pushing it open. Lando has to take a deep breath to stop the burning in his eyes as his baby boy stands in his cap and gown. Aiden fusses over his hair, and Lando chuckles, alerting his son to his presence. "Dad, I love having your hair, but at this moment, it fucking sucks," Aiden groans, and Lando lets the curse word slip for this moment.
"Stop, you're going to pull your hair out," Lando slaps his son's hands, ruffling the curls, slowly putting the cap on, and smiling. "Better?" Aiden groans but nods, "It'll have to do," Lando steps back and can't help his eyes water. "Dad, don't cry." Aiden turns, facing his father, who shakes his head and wipes under his eyes, making a croaking sound as he clears his throat. "Just, you grew up so fast." Aiden sighed and hugged his father; he knew Lando would be the one to take this hard, "I love you," Aiden whispered; Lando made a strangled sound and hugged Aiden tighter before slapping his back.
"Alright, you're uncles, grandparents, and your mother are downstairs." Aiden nods and grabs his wallet and keys. Rushing down the hall, you hear Odette's door open. "Dottie, come on." Little patters of feet and heavy feet are heard as Lando strolls behind them. Stopping, he looks back into Aiden's room and takes a deep breath. Aiden took his first steps, saying dada for the first time; the sleepless nights of rocking him to sleep and comforting him over broken hearts were all in this room. Smiling, Lando closes the door and heads downstairs.
"No! Uncle Carlos!" Aiden whines, Lando knew all too well that Carlos probably ruffled his curls, and he's proven right as Aiden dodges his hand and lightly slaps it away. "Eh, don't slap my hand, come here." Carlos glares, and Aiden dodges, moving faster than his Uncle. Carlos hisses as Charles and Max chuckle. Already, Odette was in Max's arms and giggling at whatever the grown-ups were laughing at. As the baby and only girl, Odette was spoiled by everyone in the family. Max was the one who spoiled her the most. Penelope giggles at Aiden, with Kelley fixing Odette's curls. Aiden talks with Penelope and still dodges Carlos's hand.
Lando moves up beside you, talking to his parents, and Adam gives him a slight nod. Caleb and Will come running past. "Boys," Lando says, giving his tone a deeper drop. They stop running and sit next to Lorenzo, or Enzo, as he likes to be called Charles's oldest boy. Enzo extends his phone, and they start giggling, most defiantly watching old videos of the drivers when they are close to Aiden, Penelope, and Enzo's age. "You alright," He pulls his attention to you and nods. "Yeah, yeah, I'll be okay." Kissing the top of your head, he draws you in as Aiden throws himself down next to Penelope, and they start talking about Formula 3.
Aiden was offered a seat but turned it down, preferring to work with the cars rather than drive them. That was proven when he got a full ride to a prestigious university for Mechanical Engineering and Aerodynamics. "He's still our son Lando, just...older." Lando smiles as he looks around the room, taking in his family, laughing, and having fun. Turning back to you, he smiles, his genuine smile of the day. "I know, just....he needs to stop growing up." You giggle and kiss under his jaw as he holds you in his arms. Lando sighs and kisses you again. Aiden was growing up, but he'd always be his first little boy.
#f1#formula 1#f1 fandom#formula one#f1 x reader#f1 imagine#f1 x y/n#f1 scenario#f1 fiction#f1 fanfic#f1 fic#f1 fluff#f1 fanfiction#f1 fics#lando norris#lando norris x reader#lando norris x you#lando norris imagine#lando norris fanfic#lando norris x y/n#lando norris fluff#lando norris oneshot#lando norris fic#lando x reader#lando imagine#ln4#ln4 x reader#ln4 imagine#ln4 fic#ln4 fluff
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The Flash Of The Camera
Daniel Ricciardo x Fem!Reader
Warnings: photographer/husband!dan, recording/filming consensually, boudoir shoot of sorts, stripe tease, masturbation (fem), oral (f!receiving), fingering, nipple play for a few seconds, penetrative sex (p in v), creampie + softness at the end.
Word Count: 1,617
Author's Note: okay so this one was an idea from pooks, all of you that are groaning about that - shut up. this one fucks tho if I can say so myself
merry smutmas series
--
You enlist Daniel to help you with your Christmas gift for him.
That stupid camera was with him 24/7 - the only time he put it down was to shower, work out or sleep. Even then, you're certain he dreamt of it.
Daniel had somehow ended up on a photographer kick, thanks to Lando. As you two got ready for the holidays, Daniel spent more time taking pictures than helping you. You were a bit annoyed but you had an idea, a way to get him to put the camera that he so desperately wanted to be behind.
You had mentioned to Daniel that you wanted to take a few photos for a Christmas card, just some stuff for your family to send over the holidays.
He was more than happy to take the photos for you, bouncing around the house all day waiting for you to be ready.
"Are you ready?" He shouts from the bottom of the staircase.
You were just about ready, your hair curled and tossed over your shoulders, makeup done perfectly and you took one last look in the mirror to check your outfit.
"I'm coming!" You shout back, making your way downstairs.
Daniel was waiting for you in the living room, smiling at you as you sat yourself on the couch. Blue jeans and a silky white button up, "you look pretty," he smiles, fiddling with the settings on his camera.
"Yeah?" you smiled, glancing down at your outfit. "Thanks baby."
"Yeah," he nods, holding up his camera. "Ready whenever you are, superstar."
You nodded, sitting comfortably on the couch as you smiled for him, Daniel's camera flashes a few times before he directs you; move this way, lay that way, put this hand there etc.
"You wanna try another spot?" He asks as you stand, you shake your head.
You smiled, hands lifting to undo the buttons of your shirt. "I have a different idea,"
His brows furrow, watching as you toss the shirt onto the other shirt. "What- I'm not sure these are family friendly," Daniel mumbles, watching as you undo your jeans, stepping out of them.
"Mhm I know," you smiled, sitting yourself back on the couch.
The set was red, lace and silk covered your body and Daniel smiles to himself, watching as you make yourself comfortable on the couch.
"C'mon mister camera man, don't leave me waiting." You sit on your knees, fluffing your hair. Daniel smiles, nodding as he lifts his camera again.
He takes a few pictures, you smile at him, moving around a bit. It wasn't until a few moments later that you pulled the straps of your bra down, leaning forward; your hands on your knees as you smiled at the camera.
There's a twinkle in your eyes, something mischievous and Daniel can't quite place what it is but it makes his cock twitch. He watches, the camera flashing every few seconds and you unhook your bra, letting it fall off the couch.
"Wh-Babe.. what are you doing?"
"Just keep going," You flip over, laying on your stomach.
You look over your shoulder at him, Daniel moving around to get pictures of you. You smile sweet at him as if you weren't half naked, posing for him like a playboy bunny.
Now you're on your back, lifting your hips as your manicured fingers hook around the side of the lace panties you had on. "Y/n," he trails off and you look at him.
"Keep going, Daniel." You smile to yourself, rubbing slow circles over your clit.
His eyes fix on you, not moving even an inch. He watches your every moment and listens to every single sound that slips out of your mouth.
"Are you sure you want this on camera?" His words are hesitant but his movements aren't; moving closer to you as your fingers slip lower, exactly where he wished his fingers were.
You look over at your husband, his name slipping from your lips as your fingers go exactly where he wants them to. You don't miss the way he clears his throat, shifting a bit and the bulge on his shorts beyond obvious.
"Put the camera down, baby. C'mere, come join me."
There's a look on Daniel's face, one used by him many times before; the look that he gets when he's got some sort of mischievous idea, spinning around that big head of his.
"Why put the camera down?" He hands it to you, dropping to his knees.
Your eyes fixed on the man between your legs who settled himself between your legs, looking at him in awe. Something about Daniel always fascinated you; you could never put your finger on it but he was always an object of fascination, of desire.
He can feel your eyes on him, he reaches for the lace you’re wrapped up in and tugs it down your legs, letting it fall to the floor. He shifts to sit on his knees between your legs, leaving a trail of kisses as he works his way up to your cunt.
Your eyes meet his, he knows you’re looking; he wants you to look at him.
The camera in your hand clicks then flashes, taking a picture of your husband between your legs.
Your hips buck when you feel his tongue against your clit, your hand gripping his curly hair.
Daniel knew you like the back of his hand, gripping your thighs to keep them in place as his tongue lapped your clit. Your hips buck, your way of saying you want more and he gives in.
Two fingers pushing into you, he glances up to see your head tossed back onto the pillows, eyes fluttering shut and your free hand groping your tit.
Daniel pulls away, earning himself a pout from you along with a groan but he moves up, kissing from your hips to your stomach, up to your chest.
He shifts a bit, dropping down against your side when his lips wrapped around your nipple. You can feel the way his tongue moves, how gentle he is. Daniel's tattoo covered arm slips under you when your back arches. There's a half smile on his face, watching as you lift the camera to take a picture of him.
“Hands and knees,” Daniel tells you, take the camera from you to give you a chance to re-situate yourself.
You're on all fours, face buried in the couch cushions with your back arched. The slightest clicking sound reaches your ears, followed by a smack to your ass and then another clicking sound.
"Did you just smack my ass so you could get a picture of your handprint?" You glanced over your shoulder at your husband.
The man smiles, lipped pressed together as he shakes his head. "Definitely not. I would never do that, babe."
You laughed, the giggle is cut off by a moan when Daniel pushes his cock into you. Your back arches, the curve of your spine evident when he comes up behind you. His hand rubs down your back, resting on your tailbone as he takes another picture.
The camera is set on the coffee table, both of Daniel's hands rest on your hips now.
Daniel pulls out and pushes into you again, his name falling from your lips. “God, Danny, like that,” the words tumble out, begging your husband for more as he fucks you.
His hands squeezing your hips, nails digging into your flesh. Your hand reaching under you, fingers barely reaching to rub your clit.
He pulls you up, his arm wrapped around your middle, your back pressed to his chest. His fingers dig into your side for a moment, squeezing you a bit.
He whispers in your ear, "all mine hm?"
"Yours," you mumbles, holding onto him as he fucked you from behind.
“I love you, I love you so much.” He whispers to you and you smile, a hand reaching back to touch his jaw.
“I love you.”
Daniel's cock twitches when you clench around him, “oh fuck,” he breathes, forehead against your shoulder. “This pussy was made just for me, hm? Take me so well, my pretty girl.”
You can feel your heart skip a beat, no matter what this man always makes you so happy and feel so loved, even when his cock is buried in you.
“Come on sweetheart,” Daniel whispers, letting you drop back into the couch and it’s like you read his mind. You knew exactly what he was going to say.
“Mhm,” you breathe, “almost.”
It takes a few more sloppy thrusts and Daniel's orgasm follows yours. Your husband still buried in you when he drops down onto you, landing with an oof. You let out a giggle and whisper, “thank you.”
Daniel lifts himself up a bit, moving to lay beside you before looking at you. "What for?"
You shrug, at a loss for words. “For being you, for this.”
"No need to thank me, baby. What else is a husband for?"
"Uh.. a lot?" You laughed, resting your head on his chest.
Daniel smiles, reaching for the camera to click through the pictures. He shows you the ones you had taken at first, with clothes on - he points out his favourites as they become a bit more scandalous.
"What brought this on?" He asks, looking at you and you shrug. "Just an early Christmas gift, I suppose."
He turns the camera to face the two of you; you're pressed to his side, the throw blanket over the two of you, all dazed and in love. The flash makes you squint a bit, the two of you have sleepy smiles on your faces.
"What was that one for?" You asked.
"A final addition to the gift." He smiles, kissing you.
--
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#daniel ricciardo#daniel ricciardo x reader#daniel ricciardo smut#f1#f1 x y/n#f1 x you#f1 x reader#f1 smut#merry smutmas xoxo
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It's called: freefall
Bucky x Female reader
Summary - Things get heated between you and your closest friend Bucky, when you're made to play a married couple on an important mission. Neither of you can help yourselves when you end up stuck in a hotel room together, with sexual tension you could cut with a knife.
Word count - 10k
Warnings - (18+) smut, fingering, p in v, friends to lovers, fake marriage, gross misogynistic man (not Bucko), borderline sexual harassment (not too intense, just gross words, and also not Bucky ofc), fluff, kinda angst, more misogyny.
A/N - Hi, this took me weeks to edit for some reason, sorry, and apologies if it's too long/wordy, i got carried away again. I'm not a big fan of the first half ngl, maybe that's because it's bad, or maybe it's because I've read it about a hundred times. The smut is good though, and that's what really matters.
________________________
"It's just a quick job, I promise. It'll be easy."
Steve gave you a smile of encouragement, leaning against the wall with his arms crossed in front of him, before politely averting his gaze to the floor when you lifted your dress slightly to slide your usual dagger into the holster on your thigh.
"Then what's with the getup?" You asked, lifting your head to catch sight of yourself in the mirror opposite you, looking at the dress you had been made to wear.
It was a pretty dress, beautiful actually, the colour beautiful against your skin-tone, perfectly fitted in all the right places, and it flowed down to the floor, a slit travelling up the length of your left leg, ending at your upper thigh.
You felt confident in it, and it was certainly a boost to your ego when Natasha wolf-whistled at the sight of you and Steve turned an impressive shade of red, but it wasn't something you were used to, having spent the past few years of your life dodging and refusing Tony's party invites, sticking to the comfiest clothes you owned when walking about the compound. It was a beautiful dress, but you couldn't help but feel like an imposter wearing it.
Natasha strode over to you and slightly adjusted the placement of your knife, ensuring it wasn't visible through the dress. "Daniel Kozlov. He's been on Shield's hit list for years now, fucker keeps catching and killing our agents on the inside."
You scoffed amusedly and shook your head, "What, so you send me in to get killed too?"
"Don't underestimate yourself, I've seen you take down four armed men with a screwdriver; you'll be fine, plus, you'll have Bucky and he knows how to stay undetected." Steve reassured you and you smiled at him, nodding to his words.
You heard footsteps behind you only moments before another voice spoke up, and you turned to the door, your breath catching in your throat as you did.
"That I do," Bucky nodded to Steve as he entered the room, eyes focused on his hands, adjusting his cuff links with a furrowed brow, before he finally tilted his gaze up, meeting your wide eyes with his own.
You barely noticed him looking you up and down, as you were too busy doing the exact same thing to him, no doubt probably being incredibly obvious as you stared with your lips parted. He looked like pure fucking sin.
Unadulterated and unfiltered sin.
His suit was all black and his pale, blue eyes contrasted against the colour, somehow making them stand out even more than usual. His already incredibly muscular arms and legs were accentuated, the expensive fabric tight against his skin, without it looking strange and uncomfortable, it only drew your attention to how broad his shoulders were compared to his narrow waist, or how thick his thighs looked in the black dress pants.
Multiple silver rings graced his fingers, matching with the silver, designer watch on his left wrist and you did a double-take when you noticed that his watch was wrapped around skin, not vibranium.
"Your arm." You said, sounding more like a statement than a question and Bucky forced himself to tear his gaze from your exposed thigh and tried to hide his pink dusted cheeks and breathless intake of air as his eyes followed yours to his metal arm, now concealed by what looked to be skin.
"Yeah." His voice came out as a sigh. He didn't know why, most amputees like him he was sure would be over the moon with the impressive technology, but it just made him uncomfortable, seeing his arm how he did 70 years ago. I felt inherently wrong. "Tony."
You nodded, looking away from his hand. A part of you was annoyed Tony had given it to him, knowing that it took Bucky years to accept that part of himself, and this seemed like it would be a setback in that department, though you still understood why it was necessary, Bucky was the best for the job, and chances are a criminal as 'highbrow' as Kozlov, would recognise the arm.
You wanted to change the subject, and you could tell Bucky did too, so you huffed a laugh and met his eyes, jokingly poking his chest with your finger, "You look like a mobster."
He nodded and chuckled, "Thanks, I guess. You look like a mobster's wife."
"Wife huh? Is that what we're doing?" You ask, turning your head to look down at Nat questioningly as she finished with your dress.
"Did they not tell you?" Bucky asked and you shook your head.
"I missed the briefing but Steve here thought he'd sign me up anyway." You gave the blonde a jokey, reprimanding look and he sighed, picking up two folders from the table and handing them to you.
"Blue one is about Kozlov, and the black is about who you and Bucky are going to be playing."
You take the folders from Steve, handing the blue one to Natasha as you open the black one, "James and Lucille Walter. Hey, how come he gets to keep his name and I get Lucille?"
"That's just a coincidence and I'm sure Bucky isn't too happy about it either. You're pretending to be a real couple, James Walter is one of Kozlov's newest buyers, he doesn't know him very well though, that's why you two shouldn't be caught out by anyone."
Nodding to Steve's words, you quickly skim over the rest of the folder, memorising as much as you can, before swapping with Nat and reading the other one, "And where are the real James and Lucille Walter?"
"Dead."
You stop your reading and turn to Natasha at the sound of her voice, giving her a look when she tried to hide her smirk.
"Ah, yes. Courtesy of Natasha Romanoff herself, Mr and Mrs Walter are in fact, dead" Steve spoke dramatically, causing you to scoff and wink at the redhead beside you.
"We should leave now. I'll explain further in the car and give you a rundown of the plan. Should be an easy job." Bucky takes the folders from you and tucks them under his arm, signalling for you to walk out the door and you give Steve and Natasha a smirk before you leave.
"Wish me luck guys."
_______________________________________
You were picked up from the compound by one of Stark's trusted drivers and Bucky described the plan in detail to you on the way there, but as you arrived closer and closer to your destination, you felt the nerves come on.
Usually, you were behind a computer screen on missions, hacking security cameras and breaking into encrypted files, you had no doubt of your fighting skills, you've been training almost your whole life, and the few missions you've done where you've had to fight were smooth sailing, but you had never done undercover before.
You started nibbling on your lower lip as soon as the car pulled up, doubting yourself again despite the amount of times Natasha has given you a whole speech about why you had no reason to ever do that.
The door on Bucky's side opened and when he offered you his arm to help you out of the car, meeting your eyes and giving you a gentle smile, you felt the nerves calm slightly.
You and Bucky were close in a way that no one had expected, considering he had the tendency to keep himself away from people and stay quiet when he was forced to socialise. You were slow-paced and gentle with him, a huge contrast to the way Sam would constantly be on Bucky about his lack of social skills, or Tony dragging him to parties he had no interest in. Sam always has the best intentions, but sometimes can be a little too enthusiastic for Bucky, and Tony, well sometimes Tony's just a dick with full knowledge of the fact that he's being one, and not a single care in the world about it.
You and Bucky both had an understanding, you had confided in him about your fears, your anxiety, and he had managed to do the same.
You just couldn't help but develop a teeny tiny crush on him over the past few months.
"Don't work yourself up, stay in character, stay alert, and remember the plan."
Nodding to him, you took a deep breath and put yourself into character, reminding yourself of yours and Bucky's new names, keeping your head up as you entered the party, an expensive diamond wrapped around your left ring finger with a similar pattern to the silver band Bucky had on his.
The hall was beautiful, gold detailing adorned the large doors and walls, reaching up to the ceiling to create beautiful patterns against the pristine white of the building. The party-goers were even more beautiful, hundreds of gowns and suits worth more than your life, probably bought and worn for a single night, before they're discarded and forgotten in the back of their walk-in closets.
You felt like you didn't fit in at all, but you watched as party guests eyed the two of you, and they seemed to be approving.
It didn't take you and Bucky long to get situated, stood in the corner of the extravagant hall with a glass of champagne now in your hand as you surveyed the exits and bodyguards, and Bucky looked for the target.
The mission was just a small lead in a huge investigation. You and Bucky were just here to buy something from Kozlov and then get out.
"Got him, 4 o-clock. He's surrounded but he should be expecting us so it shouldn't be an issue." Bucky had leant down to whisper in your ear, his breath tickling against your neck and causing a shiver to rake over your shoulders.
Fuck, he smelled like sin too.
It made you want to take a deeper breath, made you want to pull him even closer, close enough to close that small gap between your lips and kiss him till you run out of breath, and as much as that would be inconspicuous and normal for James and Lucille Walter, it would be completely inappropriate for Bucky and Y/n.
"We shouldn't go over yet. Let's just mingle a bit, get more of a feel of this place and blend into the background as much as we can." You add, and Bucky nods, surveying the room again before meeting your eyes.
"Good idea, but when we do go over, don't make eye contact with him and don't say anything," said Bucky. You couldn't help but roll your eyes, giving him a slightly annoyed, but understanding smile, and he smiled back apologetically, "I know, it's stupid, but that's what these guys are like. If he so much as thinks that you're either, on the table or threatening his masculinity, we're in trouble. Okay?"
You understood what Bucky was saying, men like Kozlov, they see women as property, or in some cases, currency. It's best to stay off their radar as best you can, which includes not threatening his masculinity by daring to look him in the eyes.
Women were to keep their heads down.
Which was bullshit.
"Okay."
He gives you a final nod and you think he's finally about to pull away and have mercy on your heart, but before he does, he pauses and presses his soft, warm lips to your cheek in a gentle kiss.
Air gets caught in your throat as it happens, but you try not to make an audible noise, quickly pulling yourself together and reminding yourself that you and Bucky are pretending to be a couple and he's just trying to sell it better. It makes sense.
It's just pretend.
You spend the whole evening with your hand wrapped around Bucky's bicep, neither of you breaking apart for anything as random people come up to you and try to start conversations. Usually, one of you will take one for the team and has to stand there talking about money and beach houses for five minutes, plus the occasional question about kids, which seemed to make Bucky blush every time, as the other keeps an eye on Kozlov.
"So how long have you two been married?" A seemingly kind lady asks, her red dress matching her lips as they stretch into an awkward smile.
"A year in June," You respond, well-rehearsed at this point as you smile up at your pretend husband, "Can't believe how quickly it's going."
Bucky is quick thinking with the act, and he smiles down at you, his arm wrapping gently around your waist and squeezing you to his side. Your heart probably stopped beating for a moment, and you wondered how he got so good at this, before brushing the thought away and looking back to the woman in the red dress, smiling warmly at her too.
"Ah, bet you two are still in the honeymoon phase. You look completely smitten with each other, it's adorable." She scrunched her nose up on the word 'adorable', her gaze flicking between the two of you before she glanced at her own husband, standing a few feet away as he laughed with a larger group of men, a big glass of whiskey in his hand. She sighed.
You tried to keep your face neutral, smiling and nodding along, but something about what she had said had caught in your chest, and you wished you could see just for a moment from someone else's eyes, just how 'smitten' you both look.
You felt bad for the woman, who stood in the middle of the huge ballroom completely alone and abandoned by her husband, but there wasn't anything you could do for her, and Bucky was subtly hinting to you that you were to go speak with Kozlov soon, so you kissed her cheek and bid her goodbye.
You spared Bucky a quick glance and he was focused on Kozlov, his face stoic as he glanced in his direction discreetly, scanning the exits too, checking for close-by security cameras and windows again, just in case.
"I think it's time, doll." He murmured.
You quickly lift your head to meet his eyes, the pet-name he usually only used when you were tipsy and would brush it off casually, slipping off his tongue, though it had the same effect sober or not, you blushed and nodded.
He smiled at you, almost looking fond, though you were pretty sure he was just offering you a break from the stoic, mission orientated Bucky, before he took a deep breath and reached for your hand on his bicep to hold it with his own, gently squeezing before guiding you towards the target.
As you walked Kozlov's way, who was surrounded by burly, most definitely armed bodyguards, you noticed the women surrounding him too, some with their husbands and all of them looking beyond uncomfortable, staring out at the party with bored, or even nervous expressions.
"James Walter," Bucky nodded to one of the bodyguards, who had stopped you both from passing, and the bodyguard shared a look with another, before nodding and letting you walk on.
Daniel Kozlov was sat comfortably in a velvet armchair as he swirled a glass of whiskey in his hand, seemingly stuck in a boring conversation as he stared at the wall before him, completely uninterested in what the man talking to him had to say.
"Mr Kozlov, I'm James Walter, It's a pleasure to finally meet you in person."
Kozlov perked up at the sound of a new voice and a wide, Cheshire cat grin formed on his lips as he regarded you and Bucky, though you kept your eyes to the floor, or seemingly 'admiring' the expensive decorations as the men spoke.
"Ah, my new friend! I was hoping you'd show up, had a few men flake out on me recently," The man spoke dramatically, his thick European accent prevalent and images of his file flashed in your head, remembering that Shield had been taking down his buyers one by one, either arresting them on other charges or putting a bullet between their eyes as Natasha had done with the real Mr and Mrs Walter.
They weren't particularly very nice people, so you didn't hold much guilt for their deaths, or stealing their identity after the fact.
"Wouldn't miss it for the world, sir. Heard you've got something I have my interests set on." Bucky's voice was smooth and charismatic, matching Kozlov's energy as best he could, and you couldn't lie, it made your blood run warmer, heat spreading to certain parts of your body you were ashamed to admit were reacting to the confidence he exuded tonight.
"Hm... I suppose I do. Do you always allow your wife to be a part of your deals?" Your looked up slightly at his mention of you, and Kozlov smirked wickedly at the expression on your face, "Women can be god-awful gossips sometimes."
This fucking guy-
Bucky squeezed your hand tightly, forcing the words from his tongue, "I assure you, sir. She is nothing to worry about."
He was just as pissed as you were.
"I don't know, she doesn't really seem like the quiet type, I reckon she's a loud-mouth once she's on her back, although I'm sure having her on her knees will shut her up nice and quiet." He chuckled darkly and Bucky's hand was holding yours so tight, his jaw clenching and unclenching, measured breaths exhaled through his nose, he still managed to keep his face blank though, as did you, quietly seething as you put on the frightened baby deer look that men seemed to love, staring down at the floor.
He needed to think you were in the same position as the other poor, frightened women here, that he'd get bored with you all the same.
You swallowed your tongue though, wanting nothing more than to speak up and put the bastard in his place, right before beating the absolute shit out of him, though you knew that would come in due time, for now all you could do was finish this fucking mission.
"She won't be a problem."
Kozlov laughed, knowing he was getting under James' skin. He stood from the armchair and nodded towards Bucky, the smile sinking, trying to look intimidating, despite the fact that he was practically less than half the size of Bucky, "Make your payment."
Bucky pulled a phone from his pocket, sending a single word in a text and waiting for the confirmation only seconds later, before tucking it away again, "Payment made."
Daniel looked over at a man sat in the corner with a laptop and when he nodded, he turned back to look at Bucky, his hand sneaking into his own pocket and pulling out a hard drive, handing it to Bucky before taking a step back and looking you up and down.
"What's your name, sweetheart?"
You swallowed your irritation, narrowly avoiding the urge to roll your eyes at the way he was eyeing you like a piece of meat, Bucky opened his mouth to speak but was quickly cut off by a glare.
"I asked the wife, not you. Name?" He spoke through gritted teeth, obviously quick to anger, and you fought back the urge to fucking bitch slap him, take the dagger from your thigh and press it to his neck, but you were sticking to the deer in headlights act.
"Lucille."
A smirk overtook his face, a healed scar on his cheek stretching as he did so, "Pretty name for a pretty thing."
At this point, Bucky was squeezing your hand so hard again, your fingers were starting to go numb, the rings he was wearing digging uncomfortably into your skin, but you didn't pull away, instead, you returned the tight grip to try to reassure him.
Taking a step closer to you, Daniel Kozlov lifted his hand to your cheek, making you flinch slightly and you clenched your jaw when the back of his hand caressed your cheek, his skin ice-cold against yours.
"I happen to collect pretty things."
Bucky felt sick to his stomach, knowing that he couldn't do anything besides stand there and watch, stepping out of line in any way would end in a fight, and he knew he couldn't risk lives, or the mission.
A part of you was expecting him to backhand you, but he never did Instead, he touched your cheek for a while longer, glancing over at Bucky with a smile before he took a step away from you and laughed at the murderous look Bucky was trying to hide, he knew that Bucky was in a position where there wasn't much he could do to stop him, and he openly mocked him for it, "I could take her off your hands for the night for you, teach her some manners. Maybe she'll learn to answer her superiors quickly, when they ask her a question."
"Not necessary." Bucky's voice was scarily even, but his jaw was aching from how hard he was grinding his teeth together and he started pulling you closer to him, shooting Kozlov a dangerous glare, "I think it's time we leave."
"Of course, of course. No doubt you need to get her to bed."
Bucky ignored his words and turned, pushing his way past the bodyguards and pulling you along by your hand, making you stumble in your heels.
"James." You called out as you tried to catch up with him. His grip on your hand was starting to hurt again but he kept walking with intent, pulling you out of the grand doors at the entrance to the hall and towards the expensive car you had arrived in.
He handed the driver a wad of cash and told him to leave, giving him a silent glare which obviously meant 'fuck off' when the guy hesitated.
As Bucky pulled open the passenger seat door and helped you into the car, you glared at him, though when he ducked his head into the car and leant over you to put your seatbelt on for you, the intensity behind the glare faded and you were left just staring wide eyed at him, and instead of yelling at him and telling him that you were perfectly capable of doing your own seatbelt, you were lost for words with how close his body was to yours, his breath fanning against your bare shoulder.
You could only breathe when he pulled away and slammed the door shut, rounding the car to get into the driver's seat, not sparing you another glance as he turned on the engine and put the car into gear, speeding off into the city.
his frustration and anger filled the space with tension.
"Bucky, you need to calm down," You tried but he continued to ignore you, one hand on the gear stick and the other gripping the steering wheel so tight that his knuckles turned white. You sighed, his frustration and anger filled the space with tension, and you concluded that he was a grown man who could calm himself down.
You dropped your head against the seat as you focused on the view outside your window, the lights of the city burning bright against the night sky.
You glanced at the side-view mirror, and rolled your eyes when you realised it was the same car that was behind you when you left the party, "We're being followed."
Bucky's hearing was obviously working. When he heard what you said, his eyes lifted to the rear-view mirror and he sighed heavily, "Fuck."
"Where are we gonna go? None of the safehouses are fancy enough for Mr and Mrs Walter."
"We'll have to go to a hotel, they shouldn't give us any trouble unless we seem suspicious. There's no way Kozlov would have us killed immediately after a sale, too risky," You nod at his words, knowing that Bucky was an expert at things like this due to his past with Hydra, he knew how men like Kozlov worked, how their brains ticked, and you trusted him completely. "Okay, I know where to go." He said as you kept an eye on the car, taking note of the plate number and trying to get a view of the person driving it, "Text Nat with the burner in my pocket, tell her we'll be at The Pierre, tell her to bring backup just in case but keep them minimally armed, it's just a precaution."
You sigh again, looking away from the car behind you and back to Bucky, "Which pocket?"
"Inside pocket, left side."
You nibbled on your lower lip as you reached over to him, and he tilted his body to you slightly in assistance. Bucky gulped, and you blushed as your hands brushed against his shirt when you reached into his suit jacket, searching for the pocket.
His body was incredibly warm and it only made you want to draw out the situation even longer as Bucky fought to keep his concentration on the road and the car behind, but eventually, your fingers brushed against the phone and you hesitantly pulled it out and sat back in your seat, a long exhale coming from him as you did so and he readjusted his grip on the steering wheel, shooting you a quick glance, his gaze falling to how exposed your thigh had become with the movement, though he tore his eyes away quickly.
You slipped the phone back into Bucky's pocket once you had received Natasha's quick response, and Bucky pulled up to the hotel. You watched in quiet amusement as the man following parked not-so-discreetly, a bit further down the street.
"Remember who your playing." Bucky shot you a final glance as he turned off the ignition and got out of the car, straightening out his suit jacket as he walked to the passenger side and pulled open the door, offering his arm to you and helping you out of the car.
You hated how real it all felt, him doting on you when you were trying desperately hard to convince yourself it was an act, but you still wrapped both your hands around his arm, draping yourself against his side as you walked towards the entrance, telling yourself that you did it only for the upkeep of the ruse.
The tension between you was undeniable as Bucky looked down at you, his expression serious, but not stern, only intense.
"James? Are we going in?" You asked, using his fake yet real name and it seemed to wake him from his daze, nodding as he reminded himself of his surroundings and the man now wandering closer to them, his phone to his ear, though he didn't speak into it.
"Course, doll. Just admiring my wife's beauty in the city lights."
Your mouth fell open slightly at his words but he didn't give you much time to react before he was walking you into the hotel, and you were thankful that he wasn't dragging you this time.
Bucky didn't waste any time, quickly moving to one of the people running the front desk and glaring down at him.
"Name?"
"James Walter," He spoke and the man nodded, typing something out on his computer before handing Bucky a black key-card, giving him a fearful smile.
Stepping away from the front desk, Bucky moved to your left as he discreetly put his hand into his pocket and slipped the burner phone into your hand, and you switched the phone into your right hand once you realised his plan, tossing the phone into the garbage bag on the back of a janitors cart before walking into the elevator.
You sighed heavily as you both finally entered the hotel room, trudging to the bed in the middle of the giant room and collapsing on it as Bucky started scoping out the room, quickly checking the bathroom and shutting all the curtains.
"We're going to have to stay here all night, aren't we? That guy isn't gonna go anywhere." You sighed, closing your eyes as you sunk into the mattress.
"One bed." Bucky said, and you peaked your eyes open one at a time, moving your gaze to the man now slouched in the armchair tucked into the corner of the large room, still looking beyond annoyed.
"Huh?"
His jaw ticked in annoyance as his head fell back against the chair, "There's only one bed."
Oh.
"Oh," You sat up on the bed, looking around the room awkwardly.
You didn't really want to think about what that could mean, it either formed butterflies in your stomach, or disappointment.
He didn't have to act so upset about it.
"Is it that bad?" You scoffed, half joking, half serious, and Bucky lifted his head, his eyes widening, lips parted.
"No, that's not what I-" He cut himself off, sighing and furrowing his eyebrows, looking guilty, "Sorry. I'm just so fucking annoyed."
You smiled and nodded, "I know, me too. We're one step closer to getting this guy though, Buck."
He nodded too, eyes closing again, his jaw unclenching, finding some kind of relief in your words.
"We don't have to share if you don't want, but I'm okay with it if you are. I trust you. Plus, we've fallen asleep on the couch together before, can't be that much different." You shrugged, acting nonchalant, although you felt extremely not, as you stood up, sick of the feeling of your knife's handle digging uncomfortably in your skin.
You pulled your skirt up to expose your other thigh, lifting your right foot to rest on the bed, while making sure not to flash Bucky in the process as you pull the dagger out, throwing it back on the bed, leaving the garter on for now.
His breath caught in his throat at the sight, watching as your dagger glided against the skin of your thigh as you removed it from yourself, tossing it onto the white bed sheets before dropping your foot back to the floor.
"No it's... I don't- uh." He trailed off, losing his train of thought, obviously distracted.
You looked at him, eyes dropping to follow the movement of his tongue wetting his lips, and you knew you'd never get the sight of him right now out of your mind. His legs were spread, sitting comfortably in the chair, one of his arms draped over the arm of the chair, while he rested his elbow with the other one, holding his head up with his thumb and index finger on the side of his tilted head.
He regarded you silently, his eyes dazed, and you wondered if it could possibly be because he was feeling the same exact way as you right now.
Bucky was struggling to think straight, scrunching his face up in frustration when he finally snapped out of his daze, the frustration completely different to what he was feeling before, now he just couldn't get the image of your thighs out of his mind, or the black thigh garter you still wore under your dress.
God, you drive him fucking crazy.
You chewed the inside of your cheek when he sighed again, "Buck, you need to chill out. I know Kozlov is a fucking asshole, but we expected that. We got the mission done with no big issues."
He stared up at the ceiling, feeling so guilty that he was looking at you that way, thinking about you in that way, especially after the reminder of Kozlov and how undoubtedly uncomfortable he must've made you feel.
"I know, I just hate feeling powerless. That prick was touching you and saying horrible shit and I just stood there-"
"Bucky."
He huffed a breath and opened his eyes, only to be met with the beautiful sight of you stood before him, only a few feet away, your dress clinging to all the right places and your eyes locked to his and he felt a familiar heat stirring up inside him again. He stared up at you as if you were a heaven-sent angel.
The tension in the room was so thick, and you both knew why, though neither of you had the guts to admit, nor say anything about it.
Your intentions were pure at first, and for some reason, on the way towards where he was sitting, you never thought about the very un-pure version of your actions until you were stood in front of him, barely thinking about it when you sunk to your knees before him, your hands resting just above his knees on his spread legs.
At first, you told yourself it was because you wanted to talk to him properly, make sure he was okay, and that included you being on his level physically, but now you realised it was mostly because you so desperately wanted to see him like this, his gaze heated, looking down at you between his thighs with parted lips.
It didn't matter that you were the one on your knees, you'd never felt more powerful.
His gaze was unwavering, the intense, lustful look in his eyes alone had you clenching your thighs together as you thought about your next move, and Bucky lifted one of his hands towards your face, brushing the back of his fingers down your cheek, just as Kozlov had done earlier, though this touch was completely different, and your eyes fluttered shut, a sigh escaping you as his fingers caressed your cheek, ridding the memory of Kozlov's cold skin against yours with his soft, warm touch, and you pulled your eyes open to meet his again, lifting your hand to take hold of his.
You looked down at the rings he was wearing, one on almost each finger, apparently it was a common style choice from James Walter, and it wasn't the first time tonight that you'd silently thanked the dead mobster for that fact.
They'd been catching your eye all night, and you lifted his knuckles to your lips, placing a kiss against the smooth metal of the first one on his index finger, and then the next one, and the next.
Bucky watched you kiss his rings, his eyes darkening with every touch of your soft lips to his knuckles, so entranced by you, slowly sinking further into the seat, melting with each touch.
He couldn't think of any repercussions right now, couldn't think of a single reason to stop you, all he could think about was what you were doing to him right now, and where these actions could lead you, and his pants were getting tighter by the second.
You met his eyes with your lips still on his knuckles, and you both immediately knew what this was, where this could be going, and that the thick tension between you, was sexual tension like no other.
Bucky's heart must've stopped when you opened his fist and slipped his index and middle finger past your lips, enveloping them in the hot, wetness of your mouth, your soft tongue circling over his digits, sucking on them, He couldn't help but groan, leaning his head back, though still keeping his half-lidded eyes on you.
"Fuck, doll. So fuckin' gorgeous."
You weren't thinking straight, you must not've been, because why the hell would you be doing this, why was it something you didn't even have to question, why did it feel so natural, and so fucking right.
The words that slipped past his lips were doing things to you, and the way that his fingers pressed down on your tongue slightly, but weren't nearly as heavy against it as something else you wanted on your tongue would be, you were a goner, and your underwear was already soaked.
You pulled his fingers from your mouth but kept hold of them as you crawled onto his lap, his arm immediately wrapped around your waist, holding you to him, his lips so close to yours you were sharing breath.
Slowly, you guided his fingers down, sliding them under the slit in your dress to bring them to your covered core, watching his facial expression intently, watching for any sign of discomfort.
There was none, and his breath caught in his throat when his fingers made contact, the heat of you radiating against his hand, he could already feel how wet you are.
"Fuck." He breathed, eyebrows furrowing, forehead resting on yours, "You sure about this sweetheart? You want me to touch you?"
You nodded immediately, biting your lower lip, pressing his hand against you harder, "Yes. Are you sure?"
He nodded back, "Never been more sure about anything in my fuckin' life."
You moaned when he finally started moving his fingers, circling your clit gently over your underwear, though with enough pressure to give some sort of relief, but it was when he pulled your panties aside, and dipped his fingers into your wetness, spreading your folds and gathering your slick, before pressing his fingers against your clit and rubbing you in tighter circles, that you were a mess in his lap.
"Bucky-" You whimpered, rolling your hips slightly, and he licked his lips again, nudging his nose against yours, wanting so desperately to kiss you, but also not wanting to miss a single expression you made, he wanted to watch you fall apart under his touch, again, and again, and again.
"You know something, sweetheart?" He asked, waiting for confirmation that you were paying attention to him before continuing.
You rolled your hips again, staring into his eyes, moaning out in pleasure, "What?"
"You drove me fucking crazy tonight, every time you touched me, every time you looked at me- God, whenever you said my name- I'd never heard you call me that before, my first name, fuck I don't ever want to stop hearin' you callin' me that."
His words made you dizzy, the confirmation that he'd felt the same as you all night, the confession that he loved it when you called him 'James' just as much as you loved calling him it, you were sinking deeper and deeper into this feeling, that this moment couldn't be more right, more necessary, like you'd both been needing this for months now.
By the time he had finished talking, he had slowed his touch to a complete stop, and dipped his fingers lower, pushing them inside you.
You gasped, he groaned, and when he curled them, finding that sweet spot inside you and pushing against it perfectly, you cried out, dropping your forehead to his shoulder and tucking your face in his neck.
He didn't let up with his gentle thrusting, and the insistent rubbing against that spongy spot inside of your cunt. He used his free hand to move your head from his shoulder, leaning himself forward slightly, holding you closer, and finally kissing you.
You whimpered and moaned against his lips, though returned the kiss passionately, both of your hands in his hair, your tongue gliding against his own.
This was unlike any experience you'd ever had, every touch dialled up to 100.
He used his thumb to rub your clit, still curling and rubbing his fingers against your walls, and when you started to clench down on him, he pulled back from the kiss.
"C'mon, kitten, cum on my fingers like a good girl." He purred, and your head tilted back, moaning as you came, your orgasm only spurred on quicker by his words.
"James-" You whimpered, his touch not letting up as he pleasured you through your orgasm, though when you were through most of it, you crashed your lips to his.
You kissed until you ran out of breath, doing exactly what you had wanted to do earlier, what you had wanted to do for months. Bucky gently eased his fingers out of you, and when you tucked your face in his neck again, catching your breath, you could tell he was sucking them clean, moaning at the taste of you.
It was quiet for a moment between you, only the gentle sound of your slightly laboured breath filling the space, Bucky held you close to him, his fingers gently tracing up and down your spine through the fabric of your dress, you gave a pleased hum and kissed his neck, just above his collar.
It didn't matter that you'd just barely come down from an orgasm, you needed more, you needed him.
"James." You whispered against his neck, just below his ear and he just about melted into the chair beneath you, humming to let you know he was listening, though you didn't say anything else, a part of you just wanted to say his name again, and to feel his pleased reaction to it.
His body was so warm under yours, but there were far too many layers of fabric between you and him and you desperately wanted to fix that, 'adjusting' yourself on his lap just so you could provide some friction between you, biting your lip and sighing into his ear when you felt how hard he was beneath you, he groaned and gripped your hips tightly.
"I wanna feel you inside me, James." Your voice was as sweet as sugar, breath warm against his skin, and your heated core was seated just above where his hard cock was pressing tightly against his pants, throbbing with every small movement you made.
"Fuck, sweetheart." He husked, no doubt sounding like a broken record, though he didn't care much about that, not when you were pressing yourself against him like that, slowly rocking in his lap, not when he could still faintly taste you in his mouth from where he had sucked his fingers clean, not with your mouth on his neck, whispering dirty things.
You kissed the hinge of his jaw, then ghosted your lips lower, pressing a kiss just below his ear, before making your way to the other side, leaving sweet kisses as you went.
You met his eye as you traced your hand up his black shirt, watching his expression as you slowly loosened his tie, and popped the top button open, and then the next, giving yourself better access to the skin there, kissing below his Adam's apple.
"C'mon, Buck. You wanna fuck me?" You asked, looking up at him through your lashes this time, teasing him with a smirk.
He bit his lip, holding your cheek in his palm, thumb swiping across your cheekbone, his eyes darting across your face, taking in every detail he could while he was so close to you.
So pretty.
"I do, of course I do, doll." He said back, his eyes following the movement of his thumb against soft skin. You could sense the 'but' coming, "But... I don't think we should-"
"Bucky." You interrupted, stopping what you know would've become this huge, self-doubting, self-sabotaging speech, and he met your eyes again, sighing slightly, his head tilted, "If we both want this, then why can't we have it?"
He didn't know what to say, he couldn't imagine a world were someone would really want him, as he was, much less a smart, loving and kind, beautiful girl like yourself. He believed you when you said you wanted this, but was still unsure if you would really want him, want him beyond this moment.
"If we go further, I'll never be able to get enough of you." He spoke quietly, this moment between you was so intimate, which was something he'd not experienced in decades. It was terrifying, but so perfect, so right.
"You have all of me, Bucky. I want you, not just tonight. I've wanted you for months, honey, and if you want me too then what have we got to lose? You can have me whenever you need me, whenever you want me, I'm yours, yours now, yours tomorrow. If you need a hug," You wrapped your arms around his neck as you spoke and held him tighter, "If you need a kiss," You pressed your lips to his, "If you need a release; I'll be there, because you have me, always have."
By the time you were just halfway into your speech, Bucky was a puddle, his brain short-circuiting, his heart beating much faster than it should be with him just sitting, and his whole world view collapsing.
You were his.
You wanted to be his.
He was yours completely.
He surged forward to press his lips to yours, and kissed you for a long moment, using his tongue to memorise the feel of your mouth, the heat of your own tongue against his, and he stood as he kissed you, holding you in his arms as you wrapped your legs around his waist.
He carried you with such ease and sat down on the edge of the huge bed, not once breaking the kiss, or putting an ounce space between your bodies.
You helped him to shrug off his suit jacket, tossing it to the floor as if it didn't probably cost hundreds of dollars, and deft fingers quickly reached to undo his tie.
The tie was silky and smooth, and your imagination was bright with ideas, the image of Bucky fucking you, with your hands tied above your head, or maybe tying Bucky up just the same, kissing his cock teasingly, without letting him touch you.
You tabled the ideas for now, tossing the tie aside.
You could experiment with him in due time, for now you just wanted to be able to touch him as much as possible.
You were both still enraptured in the kiss when Bucky stood again, this time turning around, and laying you down on the mattress, pressing himself against you as he placed one last kiss on your lips, and pulled back to admire the sight of you, blushing with kiss-bitten lips as you lay beneath him.
He traced his hands down your body and stood at the end of the bed, his shirt almost halfway undone.
His fingers glided down your legs, and ended at your ankles as he eyed the strappy heals you wore, admiring how beautiful you looked in them. He imagined keeping them on you, stripping you down and bending you over the closest surface, whilst still wearing the heels, maybe keeping on the thigh-garter too, but he wanted you comfortable, and he wanted you naked.
Gently, he undid the strap on one of your heels, and slowly pulled it off, before doing the same to the other one.
He kept glancing up at you as he did so, watching you so intently, he didn't dare miss a single moment, a single change in your expression.
His hands traced back up your legs, this time, he kissed his way up too, kissing you ankle, your shin, just below the garter.
He stopped himself though, and looked you in the eyes, that serious look returning, "Are you sure you want this?"
"Yes. Please, James."
He smirked, he couldn't not, and his hand drifted to your hip, squeezing there, before using both his hands to flip you over, leaning over you and pressing his hand against your back.
You gasped in surprise, and then felt his fingers against the zip of the dress, his breath against the nape of your neck.
"Should we take this off?" He asked sweetly, and you nodded silently, your voice trapped in your throat, that cocky, dominant persona you had taken on earlier apparently about to be fucked out of you. You couldn't wait.
He flipped you back over to help ease the dress off, leaving you only in a lacy pair of underwear, your chest exposed to him, and once the dress was on the floor, and Bucky allowed himself the chance to finally look at you, he groaned roughly, draping his body over yours and reaching up to caress your breasts, watching as his thumb traced over the hardened peaks of your nipples, "So fucking gorgeous."
Your hands were in his hair, back arching into his touch when he took your nipple into his mouth, paying attention to the other one with his fingers, and as much as you were enjoying it, he was still wearing way too much, and you put your fingers under his chin, pulling his mouth away from you.
He kissed you as you unbuttoned the rest of his shirt and pulled it off, quickly followed by his pants and soon you were both left in your underwear.
You pushed at his shoulder, and he eventually got the memo, and rolled aside, letting you sit on top of him, carefully moving the dagger you had left on the bed onto the bedside table.
When you pulled back from the kiss, he continued to kiss down your chest, but your eyes drifted to the hand he had on your waist, the left one, that still looked like skin even though it wasn't.
You had almost completely forgotten about it, it felt just like skin, was warm like skin, and looked unbelievably life-like, but there was something about it that you really didn't like, it wasn't him, it might've been once, but as Bucky has told you before, he's not been the man he was back in the 40s in over seventy years, and he probably wouldn't ever be him again, which you reminded him was okay, that he didn't owe Steve the version of himself that Bucky thought he would need.
You knew about the struggles Bucky has had with his metal arm, the history that there is behind it, and the hatred he had for it when he was first rehabilitated. You didn't want this impressive Stark invention to become something he used to hide this part of himself, against the needs of his own healing.
You started at his left shoulder, and traced your fingers down the arm, stopping at the silver watch on his wrist, and Bucky stopped kissing you, watching you, waiting.
"Is it the watch?" You asked, and he hesitated, before nodding.
"You don't have to take it off."
You paused, looking down at him, he looked slightly uncomfortable, and you needed to change that.
"I'd like to take it off. Do you want to leave it on?"
He was quiet for a moment, thinking about your question. It made him uncomfortable, seeing the uncanny, flesh arm in place of the metal one he knew was there, and to see a human arm, yet not be able to really feel the touch of your skin against it, only pressure and heat. He didn't like it.
He shook his head, and you smiled, kissing him again as you carefully undid the watch with your mouth still on his, pulling back to see his metal arm visible again, and you intertwined your fingers with his, metal against skin.
You did the same with his other hand, intertwining your fingers, before lifting them both above his head, pressing them into the mattress. You knew he could very easily break out of your grasp, but that didn't make the sight any less pleasing.
You rocked your hips against his, just as you did before, and he groaned, lifting his own hips, seeking more friction.
Reluctantly, you released his hands, and quickly took off your underwear, leaving you naked above him, before you took his off too.
You couldn't possibly be any wetter, your inner thighs a mess of slick as you watched his cock slap against his stomach, painfully hard and leaking at the tip.
"Fuck, James. D'you know how beautiful you are?" You asked, slowly touching the underside of his cock, tracing an enticing vein, before gripping him in your hand and squeezing him.
A moan slipped past his lips, hips lifting from the bed again.
He shook his head in response to you, smiling, "Do you know how beautiful you are?"
He flipped you both over again, his hands tracing your body, lingering in certain areas, squeezing your breasts, caressing your stomach, lifting your thigh to rest on his hip, dipping between your legs to press down on your clit, "You're fuckin' breathtaking, doll, and so fucking wet."
He gathered some of your wetness on his fingers, and dipped them back into his mouth again for a taste, moaning around them.
"I wanna eat you so bad, kitten." He lowered himself to you, resting on his elbows on either side of your head, kissing your neck.
"Later. I need you inside me, James." You pressed your core against him, and he nodded, reaching between the two of you to line himself up, slowly easing inside.
You both moaned as he slid inside you, Bucky's eyes fluttering shut, savouring the sensation whilst trying desperately hard not to give in to the urge to immediately bury himself at the hilt, and fuck you without a moments hesitation.
His hips twitched, cock throbbing inside of you, both of you were so desperate for this, and when he finally pulled his hips back, and rolled them back to yours, it was relief like no other.
His first few thrusts were slower, so enraptured by how you felt around him, hot and wet, and fucking perfect. Eventually, he started to speed up, but favoured fucking you harder, rather than faster. He didn't want this to end too quickly.
You were sprawled beneath him, biting your lower lip and moaning with every stroke of his cock against your walls, his body completely draped over yours so with every roll of his hips, his pelvis stimulated your clit. When he started to fuck you harder, repeatedly hitting a spot deep inside you that made you see stars, you were crying out in pleasure, already feeling close to another orgasm.
"Fuck, sweetheart, you feel so good, y'know that? I'm never gonna get enough of this, gonna want to fuck you all the time, 'm never gonna think of anything else." His forehead was resting on your shoulder, one of his hands on your stomach as his other held him up on the bed, "I want you to be mine. Mine to fuck, mine to kiss, mine every minute of the day. God, I want everyone to know, sweetheart, want them to know you're James' girl."
You were moaning with every word, nodding along, whining when his hand drifted lower, his thumb hovering over your clit, but staying completely still, teasing you.
Your heart was so full, just like your cunt, and you hoped to god he'd follow through on his promises, you needed to be his, just as much as you needed him to be yours.
"James, please." You begged, arching your back into him, and he lifted his head from your shoulder to look at you, smiling with a shake of his head.
"You beg real pretty, doll, but you can do better than that. Tell me what you want, and I'll give it to you."
Your eyes practically rolled back, fuck, you loved hearing him talk like this, "I want to cum, please."
He nodded, leaning in close to you, "You want to cum? I'll let you cum, princess."
He began to rub your clit in steady circles, keeping up a steady rhythm that dragged you so close to release.
"C'mon, come for me, sweetheart."
Your eyes fluttered shut as your orgasm rushed over you, and you gripped Bucky's hair tighter, your cunt clenching around him sending him head first into his own orgasm, his hips stuttering against yours as he came inside you, filling you up with his seed.
His forehead was pressed to yours, both of you slowly coming down from your high, and Bucky waited till you'd caught your breath to lean down and kiss you, slower this time, savouring the taste of you as best he could.
You kissed him back eagerly, aftershocks of your orgasm washing over you and making you clench down on him, still inside of you. Bucky groaned into your mouth, before he hesitantly broke the kiss, and leaned back to slide out of you.
"Fuck, sweetheart, such a fucking mess we made." He breathed roughly, glancing down between your legs, watching his cum seep out of you, so turned on by the filthy sight, before looking up at you again, tracing his eyes up your body, completely bared to him. He took in every detail, and smiled at your flushed cheeks, "You're so fucking beautiful."
You smiled back at him, shaking your head as you wrapped your legs around him and reached out, pulling him back down to you to nudge your nose against his, watching the way his nose scrunched up when he smiled, "So are you."
He huffed a laugh and kissed you, before burying his face into the crook of your neck, wrapping his arms around you and holding you as close to him as possible, practically laying completely on top of you, though he held most of his own weight. As much as you would completely, happily welcome the weight of him on top of you, you also know that breathing is kind of a necessary thing to survive... sadly.
"We need to shower." He murmured against your skin, rubbing his stubbly jaw against your shoulder.
You hummed and nodded, raking your nails across the surface of his back.
"We should probably talk too." He followed, keeping his face hidden from your sight.
"We should, but I don't think there's much to talk about that we haven't already. We both want each other, and not just physically."
He lifted his head and gazed down at you, his expression vulnerable, more vulnerable than you'd ever seen him, even with him naked above you, "So... like lovers?"
You smiled at the old-fashioned term, much preferring it to boyfriend and girlfriend, and you nodded, gently brushing hair from his face, "I'd love that, Buck, if you want that too?"
"Yes, I want that, so much."
"Good, let's make it official then."
He nodded smiling down at you, before he stood from the bed, and he picked you up, wrapping your legs around his waist and carrying you to the hotel en-suite like he had carried you to the bed earlier.
"You're my girl now, sweetheart." He whispered to your ear, loving the way it sounded on his lips.
"And you're my guy." You replied, kissing his nose.
"Sure am." He smiled proudly, setting you down on the bathroom sink as he turned the shower on, before he turned back to you, leaning on his hands, which rested either side of you, "I will be taking you out on a date when we get back, just so you know."
"I can't wait, baby."
#bucky barnes x reader#bucky fanfic#james bucky barnes#james buchanan barnes#bucky#beefy bucky#bucky au#bucky angst#bucky barnes#bucky barnes angst#bucky barnes fanfic#bucky barnes fanfiction#bucky barnes fluff#bucky barnes headcanon#bucky barnes imagine#bucky barnes imagines#bucky barnes one shot#bucky barnes oneshot#bucky barnes smut#bucky barnes x female reader#bucky barnes x reader fluff#bucky barnes x yn#bucky barnes x you#bucky barnes/reader#bucky fic#bucky fluff#bucky smut#bucky x female reader#bucky x reader#bucky x reader smut
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Mine
Carlos Sainz x Reader
Summary: Carlos wants everyone to know you’re his and he knows exactly how to make that happen
Warnings: 18+ content heavily implied, manipulation, tampering with birth control, pregnancy
“Who was that?”
You glance up to find Carlos’ gaze fixed on the rearview mirror of his sleek Ferrari, eyebrows furrowed. His usually cheerful brown eyes are clouded with something you can’t quite place.
“Who?” You ask, feigning ignorance though you know he’s referring to the tall, blond man who had lingered just a bit too long by your side during the after-race party.
“The cabrón in the blue suit,” he grinds his teeth. “Never seen him around before.”
“Ah,” you laugh, reaching out to playfully flick at the bridge of his nose, “just someone from the event planning team. Harmless.”
Carlos doesn’t smile back. His grip on the steering wheel tightens and the set of his jaw becomes more pronounced. “He touched your arm.”
“He was just being friendly,” you reason but a hint of defensiveness creeps into your voice.
There’s a pause as Carlos winds the car through the foreign streets. You can feel his frustration.
“You’re being naive,” he finally says. “It’s not just him. Everywhere we go, I see them looking at you. The way Daniel winks at you, how Lewis always finds an excuse to chat, even the staff and the fans. Don’t you see it?”
It’s not like you can deny that. Ever since the two of you went public with your relationship, attention has been inevitable. You’re the envy of many and the object of desire for countless others. But Carlos’ brooding possessiveness is new and you’re not sure how to address it.
“They’re just our friends,” you murmur. “And fans are fans. They’re excited to see you and by extension me too. That’s all.”
He exhales heavily. “It’s not just about them being friends or fans. It’s the entitlement, the audacity they have, thinking they can just ... approach you like that. Like they have any shot with you.”
You roll your eyes even though he won’t see it while focused on the road. “I can handle myself. Besides, I chose you. They’re nothing to me.”
The car pulls up to the entrance of a crowded nightclub, its entrance flashing with neon lights. Carlos stops in front of the valet, swiveling in his seat to face you.
You’re taken aback by the intensity in his eyes.
“Yes,” he says in a husky whisper, “you chose me. And I chose you. But I can’t stand by and watch these pretenders think they have a shot with you.”
You swallow hard, shocked by the raw emotion in his voice. “You can’t control who talks to me or looks at me. I love you and that’s all that matters.”
He leans in, placing a soft kiss on your forehead. “I know,” his lips brush your skin. “But I also know how men think and I won’t stand for them disrespecting you or our relationship.”
“We’re in the public eye. This is something we will always have to deal with. Trust me, trust us.”
His gaze searches yours, dark eyes imploring. “I trust you,” he says. “It’s them I don’t trust.”
You wrap your fingers around his much bigger ones. “We’ll get through this. Together.”
Carlos sighs, resting his forehead against yours. “I just … I can’t bear the thought of anyone else ever having you.”
Your heart swells. “Mi amor, I’m not going anywhere. The ring on my finger is there because I want to spend the rest of my life with you.”
He pulls you across the console, setting you on his lap as he wraps his arms around you while ignoring the valet waiting right outside the car. “I know. I just ... I need to make sure that everyone else knows too.”
***
Carlos finds himself in a dimly lit pharmacy aisle, heart racing. The overhead fluorescent lights throw ghostly shadows between the narrow rows. He can hear the soft hum of a distant conversation, punctuated by the rustling of paper bags and the occasional beep of the cash register.
But for Carlos, everything feels distant, like he’s viewing the world through a thick veil.
He stops in front of a shelf, his gaze locking onto the birth control pills. Rows upon rows of them, each promising freedom … autonomy.
His mind rushes back to the countless conversations he’s had with you.
“I want to finish school first,” you would always say earnestly. “Kids are a big responsibility. We have all the time in the world for them later.”
But Carlos doesn’t feel like he has time. He has fought with this internal battle for months. The thought of marking you as his, of the world knowing through the unmistakable swell of your belly, appeals to his most primal instincts.
“Can I help you?” A voice interrupts his thoughts.
He turns to see the pharmacist looking at him with a tentative smile. He tries to gather his thoughts, suddenly feeling like a deer caught in headlights. “I, um, need some pills. Sugar pills.”
The pharmacist frowns. “For a placebo effect?”
Carlos nods, trying to seem nonchalant. “Yeah, something like that. My little cousin needs them for her science fair project.”
She hesitates for a moment then reaches behind the counter, pulling out a small box. “We have these. They’re usually used for clinical trials but they should do the trick.”
He pays for the pills and quickly hides them in his pocket. He thinks about how you would react if you ever found out. But the thought of you carrying his child, the undeniable mark of his claim clear for all to see, is too much to resist.
The next morning starts as it always does. You stretch and make your way to the bathroom, your daily routine staring with the familiar sound of the pill package being opened.
Carlos stands at the doorway, watching as you take your daily birth control. He knows he should feel guilty but instead he is consumed by a heady mix of anticipation and possessiveness.
He imagines your body changing, growing round.
“Morning,” you smile up at him.
He steps closer, wrapping his arms around you. “Morning. How did you sleep?”
You lean into his embrace, enjoying the warmth and solidity of his body against yours. “Like a baby. Must have been the post-race celebrations.”
Carlos chuckles but there’s a tension to it, an undercurrent of something more. “I’ve been thinking,” he begins.
You pull back slightly to look up into his eyes, “Mmmh. About?”
“Us. Our future.”
Your heart skips a beat. “What about it?”
He hesitates, his gaze searching yours. “I want to start a family with you,” the words come tumbling out in a rush. “I know you want to wait but the thought of you carrying my child … our child ... I can’t get it out of my head.”
“I love you," you choose your words carefully. "So much. But I’ve told you how I feel. I’m not ready.”
He lets out a heavy breath, the weight of his decision pressing down on him. “I know. I just can’t help how I feel.”
“We’ll get there when the time is right,” you press a kiss to his bare chest. “I promise.”
***
“Why are you looking at me like that?” You ask, feeling his eyes linger on you as you change out of your dress. The dimly lit bedroom is filled with the ambient sounds of Mallorca nightlife. From the open balcony door, you can hear the soft crash of waves and distant murmurs of evening revelers.
Carlos chuckles lowly. “Like what?”
“Like you’re planning something,” you eye him suspiciously but your voice is playful
He stands, taking a few purposeful steps towards you. “Maybe I am,” he corners you against the wall. The heat of his body warms your own, even through the layers of clothing.
You wrap your arms around his neck. “Planning what?”
He leans down, lips grazing the curve of your ear. “To remind you,” he whispers, “that you’re mine.”
You shiver at his words, the dominant tone sending a thrill down your spine. “Is that so?” You challenge, arching a brow.
His hands slide down your waist, pulling you impossibly close. “Very much so,” he replies, sealing his words with a searing kiss.
As the two of you move to the bed, there’s an urgency, a raw need that wasn’t there before.
Every touch, every kiss, every caress feels even more intense than usual.
“Why are you so ... insistent tonight?” You gasp out through the overwhelming rush of sensations.
Carlos halts momentarily, gazing down at you with hooded eyes. “I want to make sure you never forget,” his voice is rough. “Forget what we have. Forget how deep this goes.”
“I could never forget,” your fingers move with a mind of their own to tangle in his hair.
His lips find yours again. “Promise?”
You nod, getting lost deeper and deeper in the moment. “Promise.”
Hours pass in a blur of passion and whispered confessions. The intensity of Carlos’ actions betrays an underlying need and desperation that are hard for you to place.
As the sun rises above the horizon outside, you find yourself curled up against Carlos’ chest, his fingers tracing lazy patterns on your skin.
“You were different tonight,” you murmur as your eyes slowly lose their battle against sleep.
Carlos tenses momentarily. “I just wanted to make sure you know," he says lowly. “Know how much I need you. How much I want you.”
You prop yourself up on an elbow, studying his face. “I know,” you brush a stray lock of hair off his forehead. “But what brought this on?”
Carlos hesitates, searching for the right words. “I can’t shake the feeling that something is going to try to come between us,” he admits. “And I need to make sure that never happens.”
Your heart aches at his words and the vulnerability in his eyes. “Nothing is going to come between us,” you lean over to capture his lips tenderly. “We’re much stronger than that.”
Carlos smiles and flips himself on top of you once more. “I’ll make sure of it.”
***
“Ouch!” You exclaim, pulling away as Carlos’ hands brush against your chest. The sudden sensitivity catches you off guard.
Carlos raises an eyebrow, eyes darkening with a mix of concern and something else — something unreadable. “Mi corazón? What’s wrong?”
You shake your head, trying to make sense of the unexpected pain. “I don’t know. I’ve been feeling kind of ... off lately.”
He moves closer, tilting your chin up to meet his gaze. “How so?”
You shrug, “Just more sensitive, I guess. And tired. And don’t even get me started on how my clothes have decided to stop fitting properly.”
Carlos smirks, a hint of smugness playing on his lips. “Maybe you’ve just been enjoying Spanish cuisine a little too much.”
You roll your eyes, swatting him playfully. “Funny. But seriously, it’s weird. I’ve been doing my workouts, eating right, and still ...”
He pulls you close, fingers tracing the smooth curve of your waist. “I like the changes,” his voice is muffled as he presses a soft kiss to your neck.
You shiver, torn between the pleasure of his touch and the lingering feeling that something just isn’t right. “It doesn’t feel like me,” you try to shake off the unease.
Carlos tightens his grip, gaze intensely locked on yours. “Maybe it’s just ... natural changes. You know, as we get older.”
You frown, pulling away slightly. “But I’m in my twenties. I shouldn’t be feeling like this.”
He brushes a strand of hair behind your ear. “Look, bodies change. I’m sure everything is fine.”
You’re not convinced but you nod, pushing the uneasy feeling to the back of your mind. “Maybe.”
Carlos watches you closely, the smugness returning to his features. “Besides,” he says, voice dropping to a husky whisper, “I kind of like the changes. You look ... fuller.”
You blush. “Thanks, I guess.”
He laughs, pulling you close again. “Always so modest,” he presses a soft kiss to your lips.
You melt completely against him, the warmth and familiarity of his touch pushing away the unease, at least for the moment.
But as the days pass, the changes become more pronounced, the nagging feeling that something is wrong growing stronger.
Carlos, on the other hand, seems happier than ever, his possessiveness reaching new heights. He is constantly by your side, his touch lingering, his gaze intense.
“You’re glowing,” he comments one day, eyes tracing your body.
You roll your eyes but hide a smile. “I think you need to get your eyes checked.”
“I’m serious. There’s something … different about you. I like it.”
You frown, trying to make sense of his words. “Different how?”
He thinks for a moment, searching for the right words. “You just seem more radiant. More alive.”
You shake your head, laughing softly. “I think you’re seeing things.”
Carlos smirks. “Maybe,” his hands slip under the material of your shirt, caressing your slightly bloated belly. “Or maybe I just know you better than you know yourself.”
***
“I’m what?” Your voice wavers as you clutch the edge of the doctor’s desk in shock, the coolness of the surface grounding you.
The doctor, a middle-aged woman with kind eyes, looks between you and Carlos. “You’re pregnant,” she repeats gently, handing over the sonogram.
Carlos breaks into a wide grin. “That’s incredible!” He pulls you into a tight embrace, placing kisses all over your face.
But as the news sinks in, panic sets in. Your future plans — graduating with your degree, establishing a career — all seem to crash around you.
You gently extricate yourself from his hold, taking a deep breath. “How is this possible? I’m on birth control! We’re always so careful.”
The doctor tilts her head, looking through her notes. “No birth control method is 100% foolproof,” she says. “It’s rare but it can happen.”
Carlos’ fingers lace through yours, his touch warm and reassuring. “It’s going to be okay,” he whispers, squeezing your hand.
Tears well up in your eyes, the overwhelming emotions threatening to drown you. “I still have a year of school left. I wanted to be established in my own career … this wasn’t part of the plan.”
Carlos cups your face. “Hey,” he murmurs, wiping away a tear with his thumb. “You don’t have to worry about any of that. You have me.”
You blink. “Carlos, I want to work. I want a career. I don’t want to be dependent on you.”
He smiles. "You won’t be dependent. You’ll be cared for. Isn’t that what you want?”
You take a step back. “I want to be my own person. I want to make my own choices.”
Carlos’ gaze darkens, the dominant edge returning. “You will be. But you’ll also be mine. That’s what is important now.”
***
You’ve quickly come to love the sensation of your growing belly, cherishing each gentle flutter and kick from the perfect being within, knowing that it’s a bond that only you and Carlos share.
“Good morning, little bean,” you whisper, rubbing the gentle swell of your belly. Every morning, this small act helps you bond with the life growing steadily inside of you.
Carlos enters the room, his hair still tousled from sleep. The morning sunlight casts a warm glow on his chiseled features. “Frijolito is lucky to have a such a beautiful mama,” he murmurs, sidling up to you and wrapping an arm around your waist. His hand finds its place on your belly, fingers splayed and feeling for any hint of movement.
“I am huge,” you complain with a mock pout.
He leans down, capturing your lips in a searing kiss then pulling back to tilt your chin up. “You’ve never looked more beautiful.”
“You have to say that,” you tease. “I’m carrying your baby.”
“Partly,” he admits, sliding his hand up to cup your face, “but mostly because it’s true. You would put Helen of Troy to shame.”
Weeks pass and your body continues to transform.
There’s a softness, a roundness, that wasn’t there before, and it’s something that Carlos revels in. His hand is constantly on your belly, possessive and protective. Every time another man’s gaze lingers a little too long on you, Carlos’ lips curve into a smirk, silently declaring his ownership.
“You’re enjoying this, aren’t you?” You ask one evening as the two of you settle into bed.
Carlos raises an eyebrow. “Enjoying what?”
“Having every man that looks at me know that I’m yours,” you poke him playfully on the chest.
“Maybe,” his hand slides down your body. “Is that a problem?”
You sigh, nestling closer to him. “No,” you admit. “It’s kind of nice, actually.”
Carlos grins, pressing a kiss to your belly. “That’s my girl.”
The months fly by and soon the reality of your impending motherhood sets in. There are nursery preparations, birthing classes, and endless discussions about baby names. Through it all, Carlos is by your side, excitement never wavering.
“Can you believe we’re going to be parents?” You marvel one day, looking around the nursery.
“I’ve never been more sure of anything in my life,” Carlos says. “You and our frijolito are my everything.”
Happy tears well up in your eyes. “I love you,” you whisper, burying your face in his chest.
Carlos tightens his grip, resting his chin on top of your head. “Yo también te amo.”
The next race day arrives and as always, Carlos calm and collected. But recently there has been a different kind of energy to him, an intensity that was never there before.
“Promise me you’ll be safe,” you clutch his hand.
Carlos smiles, leaning down to press a kiss to your lips and then another on your belly. “I promise,” he says, eyes locking with yours. “I have too much to come home to ever do otherwise.”
***
“It’s time,” you gasp, clutching the bedsheets as another contraction hits.
Carlos lets you grip his hand impossibly tight. “Breathe, mi corazón,” he urges, wiping the sweat off your forehead.
Hours pass in a blur of pain and anticipation. Through it all, Carlos is by your side, his touch both comforting and grounding.
Finally, after what feels like an eternity, a small cry pierces the air. Tears stream down your face as you catch your first glimpse of your son, his tiny face scrunched up in protest.
“He’s absolutely perfect,” Carlos says thickly, tears gathering as he kisses you gently.
You smile weakly, the exhaustion of a long labour weighing you down. “Our little bean,” you whisper, cradling your son close.
Carlos wipes away an escaped tear. “Our frijolito,” his gaze never leaves your son’s face.
As you start feeding your son for the first time, Carlos’ face softens and his eyes fill with awe. “I can’t believe we made something so amazing,” he traces a finger over your son’s tiny hand.
You smile, heart swelling with love. “He’s perfect,” you whisper, tears streaming down your face.
Carlos leans down to press a soft kiss to your son’s forehead and then another to yours. “You did incredible. Thank you for giving me everything I could ever ask for.”
You smile. “We did this together.”
Carlos nods, his gaze locked onto your son’s face. “I promise you that I will always take care of you both. You will never have to worry about a thing.”
“I know," you whisper as you let contentment and tiredness drift you off to sleep.
As the days pass, Carlos becomes even more possessive and protective, his love for you and your son deepening with each passing moment. He is constantly by your side, reluctant to leave either of you for even a second.
One evening, as the two of you sit on the balcony, watching the sunset while your son dozes away, Carlos turns to you. “I want to give you more.”
You raise an eyebrow, a teasing smile playing on your lips. “More what?”
Carlos smirks and pulls you close. “More children,” he murmurs, pecking your lips. “I want to fill you with my babies.”
You laugh, “One is enough for now.”
Carlos chuckles but his face is serious. “We’ll see.”
Carlos knows that he will ensure it happens just like he did before.
He’ll keep you bound to him forever.
#f1 imagine#f1#f1 fic#f1 fanfic#f1 fanfiction#f1 x reader#f1 x you#carlos sainz#cs55#carlos sainz imagine#carlos sainz x reader#carlos sainz x you#carlos sainz fic#carlos sainz fluff#carlos sainz fanfic#carlos sainz blurb#f1 fluff#f1 blurb#f1 one shot#f1 x y/n#f1 drabble#f1 fandom#f1blr#f1 x female reader#carlos sainz x female reader#carlos sainz x y/n#scuderia ferrari#carlos sainz one shot#carlos sainz drabble
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𝐈𝐂𝐄 𝐂𝐑𝐄𝐀𝐌 𝐂𝐀𝐊𝐄 .ೃ࿐
𝐒𝐔𝐌𝐌𝐀𝐑𝐘: you and lando have a pretty healthy relationship; communication is a breeze between the two of you. and while that seems good, it doesn't help lando is horny 24/7. even the beach isn't safe from him.
𝐖𝐀𝐑𝐍𝐈𝐍𝐆𝐒: 18+ (minors dni), established relationship, some fluff, blowjob, slight handjob, breastplay, poor humour LMAO aka old creepy mens' dicks, no time concept lol, basically lando time!
𝐏𝐀𝐈𝐑𝐈𝐍𝐆: bf!lando norris x fem!reader
𝐖𝐎𝐑𝐃 𝐂𝐎𝐔𝐍𝐓: 3k+
𝐀/𝐍: now playing: ice cream cake – red velvet! OKAY YES IK I HAVE REQUESTS BUT I HAD WRITER'S BLOCK TILL THIS OKAY? is it not obvious by the word count? 😭 alexa, play 'easy on me' by adele :( also new banners after i messed around one day! ♡︎ // proof-read-ish!
𝐌𝐀𝐒𝐓𝐄𝐑𝐋𝐈𝐒𝐓
⋆ •°. ｡ .°• ⋆
You had met Lando two years ago purely on accident. You were at a coffee shop in Brighton, he was visiting a friend there. You ordered a hot chocolate and he had ordered a long black. Somehow the both of you had swapped cups and were wincing at how sweet or bitter the drink was.
Lando had turned his cup around to see who the cup belonged to. Upon seeing your name, unlike a normal person who would ask the barista for another cup or a refund, he had shouted your name across the room.
Lucky for you, you were the only other customer there since it was a slow day. Nevertheless, you looked up in shock. Who yelled out your name? Why? How did they know your name?
You actually purposely avoided eye-contact with his table just in case he was some weird guy. But Lando got your attention after telling you from across that room that you had some sweet taste in drinks.
You raised a brow. Was this some sort of new catcall you didn't know about? But then you had caught the barista's handwriting on 'your' cup. Lando, Long Black.
You scrunched your nose at the cup and looked at him. "You're quite bitter."
It was at that point when Lando had got a clear shot of your face and found his heart racing faster than normal. You were pretty, no gorgeous, no beautiful, no... surreal. Your face was contorted into a grimaced expression at his order which he found amusing. You looked like, what he still claims to this day, part of the shop's couch. The couch was brown and you were wearing a brown sweater.
Honestly, Lando couldn't find the whole situation anymore endearing. So with whatever confidence he had leftover, he walked up to your table and smoothly asked, "Can I get you a sweeter one with my number?"
Now this was when you first had probably got a look of Lando. He had a certain... boyish charm, if you will. The wide grin, sparkling blue eyes, face dotted with the odd freckle or beauty mark. To say he was attractive was an understatement. He looked like one of the main characters in the rom-coms you would binge when you needed a pick me-up.
You said yes. Obviously.
And here you were, two years later. At the beach with Lando, Charles, Carlos, Daniel, and their partners. You were all caught up with F1, always available for Lando. Your perspective of him had changed quite a lot since you had met him. In a good way, of course.
You initially saw him how a lot most of his fans and the media see him. A comedian by day and a moodmaker by night. Always smiling and cheery. Positive and optimistic. But the reality was that Lando struggled with the mental and physical aspects of F1. He didn't always have the confidence and he was stressed and depressed.
But as Lando always said in his interviews, he had found you.
'The best thing that had ever happened to him,' according to Lando himself.
Anyone could see that the two of you loved each other with your entire beings. Neither of you left any stone unturned in your relationship. Most people were jealous of your relationship. The drivers, the media, and especially the fans.
And you wouldn't have it any other way.
━━━━━━━━━━━
One thing about Lando that you had learned quite soon after your first time together was that Lando was insatiable. He was sex-driven, horny, full of lust, aroused... all the words in the dictionary for a man like this... 24/7.
One day, you asked him why. Lando only responded with pulling you closer to him, leaving a trail of kisses from your jaw and down to your neck, and saying "You."
You wouldn't say anything did it for him. No in fact, it was specific things that he couldn't take his mind off once he thought about it.
Take right now for example.
Carlos had decided to treat everyone to ice creams, ice lollies, and juice on your trip to the beach in Playa de Bolonia. Innocently and naively, you had chosen the pink ice lolly out the chilly bin. Lando had also not thought anything of it.
Rather Lando had being eyeing you with every spare glance as you were wearing his favourite bikini, the one he had bought you for Christmas as a prank gift in the nice British winter thinking it had been the funniest thing ever. Obviously, he thought you were going to were it but another thing you had learned was that Lando's humour quite often was unmatched and spontaneous.
The bikini itself was simple. An orange, of course, two-piece. The top was held up by two moderately thin straps and hugged your breasts quite nicely. The bikini bottom was as normal as it could get, clinging to your hips. On top of it, you wore a white thin-laced cotton coverup, loosely tied together.
You would say it was an average beach look. Lando would disagree. It was as if God himself had carved you and decided to put you on Earth as reparations for the bad in the world.
But back to the point.
As mentioned, Lando hadn't really thought of the ice lolly. He was too busy trying to get Daniel back with a water gun. Like you said, boyish. It wasn't until he had finally got him back and decided to go sit down with you and grab himself some ice cream.
But when Lando sat down and looked at you, his mind had suddenly turned into shambles. There you were. Under the shade, peaks of sun shining on your skin, holding that pink ice lolly to your mouth.
Lando wasn't quite sure what was worse. The faint pink colour similar to his cock or the way your tongue travelled down the length of it to collect the melting sugary liquid. Or how your lips pressed up on the tip of the ice and pressed down to take an inch more of it into your mouth as if it was his own cock.
To make matters even worse for him, you had failed to capture some of the melting droplets. Lando keenly watched as they fell to your bare part of your chest and even had landed right where he knew your nipple was. His eyes widened ever so slightly and his breath paced when you frowned at the event and used your finger to wipe the sweet liquid off your skin and into your mouth. Some of it had gone too far down, probably pooling near your breasts like he imagined.
What sent him overboard? When you had spotted the stain on your bikini top over your nipple and attempted to rub it away, only making the stain worse and a small bump for your pebbled nipple.
Lando gulped nervously, pants incredibly tight. He closed his eyes and held his hands over his newly-formed hard on, wishing that his mind wasn't full of everything he had just seen. Your lips... your breasts... the way your eyes looked down at the popsicle... if only that was his cock....
"Lando? Dude, do you need to go to the bathroom?" Pierre's voice cut through the air.
Lando snapped his eyes opened and your eyes looked over to your boyfriend.
"W-What?" The British male queried with slight panic. He was not getting caught with a hard-on in front of his friends... there was no way in Earth...
Pierre raised a brow, gesturing to his pants. "You're ice cream is all melted. You need to take your eyes off Y/N at least sometimes, Lando, otherwise you'll never finish... your ice cream, that is," He teased.
You looked down at Lando's pants where his hands laid, covered in the white vanilla ice cream-turned liquid. You and everyone let out an amused laugh at Pierre's joke, shaking your head.
You stood up from the sandy grass you were sat on, dusting yourself off. You extended your hand to Lando, "Come on. I bought extra stuff in the car. Honestly, I thought you were going to lose your trunks by Daniel pantsing you in the water but I guess not."
A howl of laughter came from Charles and Carlos while Daniel cursed himself for not doing it.
Lando blinked, pulling the finger at his fellow drivers. He sighed, grabbing your hand and awkwardly standing up from the area, managing to cover up his bulge swiftly.
The two of you headed to the car as Lando briefly threw out the sticky wrapper and stick into a bin nearby. You opened the boot of the car, grabbing his trunks. "Jesus, could it get any hotter today?" You asked, closing the back door.
"It really couldn't," Lando mused, walking hand-in-hand with you, making you release a groan.
"Lando... now my hand's all sticky, you idiot," You complained, trying to pull apart from his hand.
Lando rolled his eyes, arriving to the empty males changing room. He was about to enter when he saw you stand outside and not follow him. "What are you doing? Come in."
You narrowed your eyes. "It's a male changing room. I'm not going in. What if there's some old man trying to change? I do not need to be scarred for life. My DMs is enough, thanks."
"First of all, there's no one here," Lando stated before shouting a loud 'Hello' into the room, making you redden with embarassment. "See? Secondly, I'm sorry, let me get this straight, your DMs are full of old men's dicks?" Lando looked at you incredulously.
You grinned, shrugging. "It's called being a woman, Lando. You wouldn't get it."
Lando rolled his eyes once again, grabbing you by the arm and dragging you into the changing room.
The room was the opposite of most changing rooms. It was tiled well, clean and fresh as opposed to musty, damp and with paint-chipped walls. There were also no leaky taps or showers or even any graffiti. It was slightly comforting to know that at least people respected some of their public rooms, even in Madrid.
"Wait, also, what if I get old? You don't want to see my shrivelled dick? It should turn you on!" Lando asked with a dramatic gasp.
You looked at your boyfriend through the mirror with a dumfounded expression. Turning, you threw his trunks at his face. "Go change," You laughed, shaking your head.
Lando grinned underneath the trunks as you turned the tap on to wash your sugar-coated hands.
Lando had removed his trunks, left naked with his hard, reddened cock slapping against his stomach, and was about to put on the new ones when a thought passed his mind.
You paused your hand-washing and froze when you felt Lando's arms wrap around your stomach, pulling you close to his bare body. "Lando," You yelped, feeling a shiver cross your body, "What are you doing?"
Lando peered down at you through his thick eyelashes. He tucked his chin into your shoulder, placing a brief kiss. "What?" He asked innocently, "I'm just washing my hands. I can't get the new ones dirty either."
You watched through the mirror as he pressed his body into you, washing his hands under the tap, ridding the tackiness on his hands.
You sucked in a sharp breath, feeling his cock push into your backside. It was bare, you realised, as the heat spread into you. Your eyes flickered to Lando through the mirror, squinting at him. He wasn't...
Lando caught your eyes staring hard at him. "Don't look at me like that," He whispered into your ear, a loose grin hanging on his face. His wet fingers travelled to the poorly tied lace coverup you wore, undoing the knot with ease. The coverup fell against your shoulders, revealing your bikini and body in all it's glory.
"You have to clean up as well," Lando shrugged, eyes fixated on you through the mirror. "You made a mess," He murmured, wetting his fingers with the water once more before placing it against your chest.
You pressed your lips tightly, feeling his fingers drive down your skin and underneath your bikini top. Lando's fingers brushed your hardened nipples, making you shudder under his touch. His fingers trailed across your breasts, wiping away any of that sticky residue that you had missed. Bringing his fingers to his mouth and taking a wide lick of them, Lando grinned at you. "You know... I can't stop picturing you sucking my dick like that ice lolly. Never thought I would be jealous of an ice lolly."
You couldn't help but smile in amusement. You pulled away from his hold and turned to face your boyfriend. "Yeah?" You hummed, hands trailing down his chest. Lando had been working out a lot more these days for F1; compared to before his abs had become more prominent and toned. You loved Lando no matter what he looked like, but there was something about the way his skin flushed when you touched his torso.
Lando's breath hitched as your hand had ever so naturally found it's way to his cock. His cock, if you could say it, was pretty. It was average in length and with a nice, filling girth, stretching all of your holes wide.
Your fingers brushed across the tip of his head, just grazing his slit. You could feel Lando jolt in your hands as he muttered, “Fuck.”
You opened your mouth, letting a drop of saliva full into his cock. Hand wrapped around it, you gently rubbed natural lube up and down his shaft. Lando’s jaw clenched at the warm liquid nestling around his cock, letting a sharp exhale through gritted teeth.
Slowly you sunk down to your knees. The tiled floor was cold against your burning skin but it didn’t matter: you were too focused on what was right in front of you; cockdrunk. Your tongue darted out to swipe your lips before pressing a light kiss to his cock. Lando could feel himself twitch, aching to be in your mouth.
He watched as your lips opened like they did on that ice lolly. Going down in his cock, your lips stretched and your mouth hollowed.
Lando groaned at the warmth surrounding his cock. He bit down on his lip, watching his cock disappear into your mouth. Your eyes were on him as you sucked him, teeth barely grazing his skin.
"Fuck, you look so pretty like this, Y/N," Lando sighed out, "On your knees for me. I can't imagine the mess you made between those legs of yours, hmm?"
You moaned in response, sending a vibration around his cock. You briefly pulled away from him, making Lando grunt in slight annoyance at the loss. "These lips, my pussy.... all yours," You winked at him before returning to his cock.
Lando tensed at your words, letting a grin overtake him. "Yeah? Let's see about that throat, baby?" His hands reached your half dry and half damp, salty hair. Wrapping those long tresses around his hand and wrist, he tightened his grip. He could feel you open up your throat as he guided his cock down the tighter tunnel.
Lando's rasping groan made you clench your thighs, holding a barrier to the wetness leaking at of you. You could feel him begin to move his hips, beginning to push his cock into your throat.
Fighting the urge to gag around his cock, you tried hard to relax your cheeks and mouth, allowing every inch of him to be seated in your throat.
He flickered his eyes to you. Watching you take him in his mouth was a pleasure of its own. Your big eyes were glassy with tears of arousal and a haze of lust, sweat and saliva lingered at every edge of your skin, and your lips were puffy and red. Trailing his eyes further down, he spotted your bare neck in dire need of kisses, but that wasn't the most striking thing about it. It was the slight bulge of his cock in your throat making it's presence known.
Jesus...
Lando instinctively closed his eyes upon feeling your hands touch his balls. You rubbed them gently, feeling your head bob at an increased rate to match the sudden pace of Lando's cock in your throat.
"Fuck, fuck... I..." Lando moaned. "I'm gonna cum!" Lando hissed out, feeling a familiar bubbling feeling overcome. His thrusts become harder and faster, your nose flushed with his skin.
His moans became irregular and higher, chasing his release. "Fuck...." A guttural groan fell from his lips. Hot, salty white strips of his cum coated the inside of your mouth, swirling around after each drop was sucked from your lips. Almost painfully, Lando removed himself from your mouth. His chest rose up and down as he breathed out heavily.
An admiring smile came from Lando while he pulled you up to meet his face. He pushed your sweaty hair back. "That mouth of yours is evil," He narrowed his eyes playfully.
"You should shut me up then," You quipped back, sticking out your tongue that still had his cum on it.
Lando's eyes sparkled with amusement before he brought his lips to yours, darting his tongue into your mouth. The urgency in the action was understated. God, he could taste himself in you. His hands encapsulated your waist, flushing your barely clothed body to close his naked one. Your own hands travelled everywhere across his chest as the two of you kissed each other.
The muffled moans from you made Lando want to hear them out loud. Slowly he moved from your lips to your jaw. "Let me hear you, baby," He breathed out, placing smaller kisses as he reached your neck.
You let out a small whimper, neck tilting so Lando could get more access. Lando grinned at the sight of your bare neck, leaving small little nibbles across your skin. His lips eventually became settled in an area between your ear and collarbone, beginning to suck at your warmth.
"Lando," You moaned, "No, the others will realise."
Your refutes were ill-attempted even for yourself. You were dazed at the suction of his lips. His nose buried into your neck while he created a fresh layer of purple against your sun-kissed skin.
Lando released himself from your neck, eyeing down his creation with a smirk. "There. If they couldn't tell from your hair, they'll definitely know now."
You narrowed your eyes, turning to the mirror only for your eyes to widen in shock. "Jesus fucking Christ, Lando," You peered at the big purple brown splotch on your skin. "As if the 20 minutes we've spent here wasn't enough," You whined.
Lando laughed softly, standing behind you with his arms around your waist and chin resting on your head. "Well... if you make it through the shame, I can't wait to properly fuck you when we get home. You must know how much I love the way you look when I’m inside you."
Your head fell against his chest with a pout. "Why not now?"
Lando grinned before pressing a kiss to your head "Like you said... it's been 20 minutes."
© 𝐌𝐈𝐂𝐊𝐘𝐒𝐂𝐇𝐔𝐌𝐀𝐂𝐇𝐄𝐑
#mickyschumacher#f1 x reader#f1 fanfic#f1 x you#f1 imagine#formula 1#f1 smut#lando norris fanfic#lando norris smut#lando norris x reader#lando norris
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Steve Harrington x fem!reader[4.3K] loosely based on the movie float, lifeguard!steve, a summer full of swim lessons. mentions of drowning, eventual smut 18+
SWIM LESSON SCHEDULE
LESSON #2
[Six Months Before]
Steve Harrington was standing in Tammy Thompson’s backyard, bumping his knuckles against Eddie’s as the boy approached with a bottle of Jack Daniel’s in his hand.
Eddie had dragged you out, brown eyes pleading as per, promising he’d score big at this party and he’d definitely buy you a burger and shake with his takings on the way home. Midnight, he’d said, swear it, he’d said. But the clock in Tammy’s moms kitchen was ticking towards one o’clock and when Eddie spotted Steve - and Jonathan Byers - out by the pool, you’d made the decision to hang back.
They were too close to the water, the lagoon shaped pool lit up in the night by an underwater glow, yellow-white spotlights that made sure you could see just how deep it was. There were some girls hanging close by, dresses and skirts rucked up their thighs and their shoes long lost as they dipped their legs into the bright blue water, pink lips around cherry vodka bottles and their eyes on the boys - a potential ride home in more ways than one.
“M’not gonna let you just fall into the pool,” Eddie had frowned when you’d told him you’d wait inside. “Who even does that anyway? You’re not wasted enough for that sweetheart.”
And you weren’t. Barely tipsy, actually.
But the pool took up most of the patio space and other people were drunk, stumbling around the yard and trying to dance to the music that came from the open kitchen door. The water was too much, too deep, too blue, too dark.
And Steve Harrington was too pretty and intimidating - but you didn’t tell Eddie that part.
Jonathan spotted you over Eddie’s shoulder and waved, smiling kindly before he said something that made Eddie’s eyes light up with excitement. And that was okay because Jonathan was quiet and sweet and always polite to you, commenting on the books he’d see you reading when he passed you in town and sometimes he’d bump into you during Eddie’s hellfire meetings, passing as he picked up his little brother.
Steve, you didn’t see as much. Only from afar, usually. He was quieter than he’d been in high school, crownless and a little softer around the edges than when you sat two rows behind him in Mrs Click’s class. But Robin had a lot of things to say about him, gentle ribbing that was always wrapped in a fondness anyone with eyes could see and for a while, you thought that maybe they were a thing until Robin had vehemently told you that they were everything but.
Platonic with a capital P, she’d told you, popping the last letter and hiding the burn in her cheeks.
But still, you knew he gave her rides to work before he drove himself to the pool, acting oblivious and almost uncomfortable when the hoards of freshman girls made a point to pick the loungers closest to the lifeguard tower.
Not that you’d ever seen such a thing. But Robin liked to poke fun and Eddie was a bigger gossip than the cheerleader he used to date during his sophomore year.
So really, you had once mused, there wasn’t really any reason to be so avoidant of Steve Harrington now. Except, once you finally admitted to yourself you had an awfully bad crush on him, that was excuse enough. He would nod and smile politely at you when he ran into you and Eddie around town, at the mall, in the crowds at parties. And on good days, you’d smile back, lips thin and tight in an overly polite grimace of some sort but neither of you attempted to make conversation with each other. Any awkward silences were filled by your mutual friend, Eddie talking loudly and animatedly about whatever topic came to mind, his curls and his laugh both big enough to patch over any uncomfortable silences.
So when a few minutes passed with you staring into your drink, watching the ice cubes melt into whatever concoction Eddie had handed you, you didn’t expect Steve to appear beside you. He was busying himself with the stack of beers on the kitchen counter beside you, but he cleared his throat all the same, unsure about it as he gained your attention. But he was looking at you, purposeful, as if his elbow softly knocking yours wasn’t an accident.
His gaze was still holding yours as he popped the cap off of a bottle of bud light lime, the cap hitting the floor. You blinked at him, eyes only straying for a second to see that Eddie was still out by the pool talking to Johnathan and some other guy you didn’t know. Brows furrowed, you turned back, lips parting to ask if everything was okay, because why else would Steve Harrington be looking at you.
But then he was talking, smiling sweet and kind and holding a little of that confidence you knew back in school. It was still there, that self assurance that he had years ago, but it was muted, a boldness that wasn’t quite dimmed but definitely softened. It made him seem even more intimidating, prettier with his messier hair and scruff along his jaw, his clothes less tight and pressed.
“You doin’ okay?”
You blinked again, wondering if he really was talking to you. But there was no one else around and you gripped your cup a little tighter, nodding before you could make a fool of yourself. “Me? Yeah. Yeah, why wouldn’t I be?”
Steve shrugged, smiling as he took a sip from his beer and he gestured out to the patio, to the pool and to Eddie who was grinning at you. “Just wondered why you weren’t coming out, that’s all. You’re normally glued to Munson.”
You scrunched your nose, cheeks warming because he wasn’t wrong, but the reminder of how close you usually stuck to Eddie made you feel younger, childlike.
“It’s not like… that,” you explained, although you weren’t sure why you were bothering. “Us. Eddie and I- it’s not like we’re together, or anything.” You immediately regretted your words, the explanation feeling thick and clumsy on your tongue and your neck was burning, heat creeping up along your jaw.
Steve was still smiling, grin hid behind his beer and his brows were raised. He looked amused, nodding as you stumbled around each word and when you frowned, gulping down your watery cranberry and vodka, he grinned wider. “Yeah, no-- I know,” Steve assured you. He shrugged, “still, thanks for the clarification. S’good to know.”
You never found out what he meant by that, if he was being funny or just friendly, if he was flirting and genuinely interested. A neighbour called the cops and Eddie grabbed you before they could come through the front door, boosting you up by the foot so you could both scramble over the back fence. Steve had left with Jonathan and his girlfriend Nancy, the three of them running to Steve’s car just as Chief Hopper started yelling at the drunk kids left behind and you hadn’t so much as glanced back at each other for fear of being dragged home in the back of a cop car.
The next time you’d spent any real time with Steve Harrington, well. You’d been sinking to the bottom of the lake.
You were standing by the closed gate of the community pool at seven am sharp, the obnoxiously large lock stopping you from entering - despite the rip in the chain link fence to your right.
You weren’t waiting long, even though you would’ve happily stayed on the other side of the lot for as long as required. The air was already warming, the scent of chlorine and leftover sunscreen surrounding you, mixing with the sound of the cicadas, the early morning sprinklers from the houses across the road. Then Steve was jogging towards you, one big hand clutching a rolled up towel and a set of keys and his cheeks were pink from his efforts, his sliders slapping on the concrete and he looked apologetic as he approached.
“M’really sorry, car had a flat,” he huffed. “Would’ve left earlier if I knew I was walking.”
It was harder to look him in the eye after last week. Once the initial fear that had a vice grip on you loosened - if only slightly - it was easier to become so aware of how close you’d been to Steve. A whole morning spent half clothed and wet, his hands on you at all times, gentle and guiding as he coaxed you to walk around the shallow end of the pool. He’d been nothing but a gentleman about it, professional at all times with his hands either in yours or bracing your arms, never straying anywhere they shouldn’t, even if you’d caught his eyes going just that, maybe once or twice.
You pulled at the collar of your t-shirt as Steve busied himself with the padlock, the air so much stickier now that he was close by. “It’s okay,” you told him. “I’m not in a rush.”
Steve snorted and it shouldn’t have been an attractive sound as it was. His eyes crinkled in amusement, mirth in them as he glanced down at you from under his lashes. He still looked soft from bed, hair mussed and a five o’clock shadow across his jaw that suited him too well. His lifeguard shirt was sunbleached and threadbare, the red shorts he wore smaller than his last pair, the material well above his knees. He was more sunkissed than last weekend, freckles on the bridge of his nose, cheeks stained a permanent blush.
“Was your first lesson that bad?” He asked.
You burned, not knowing what to say, not wanting to offend him, not when he was looking at you like that.
“No,” you squirmed. The lock was open now but neither of you moved. “I mean, yeah, but not— not as bad as I thought. It was okay.”
Steve grinned like he knew something you didn’t, nodding slowly as he held the gate for you. “It was okay,” he repeated back, “I’ll take it.”
The pool was as blue and as intimidating as the first week, the generator humming and the filter trickling softly as you walked around it, giving the edge a wide berth. If Steve saw you frown and the dark blue depths, he didn’t say anything. Instead, you both dropped your towels and bags on a lounger and the boy didn’t so much as blush as he stripped off his shirt, throwing it alongside everything else.
“You wanna get changed?” He asked, already busying himself with pulling some floats out of a shelving unit. “I’ll get everything sorted and you can—”
You were stripping off your own shirt before Steve could finish his sentence, the words getting stuck in his throat as you revealed the same old black swimsuit underneath your clothes. It wasn’t anything he hadn’t seen already, but you couldn’t help but feel flustered as you popped the button of your shorts, the denim dragging down your hips. You didn’t look at him as they slid off your legs, your feet clumsy as you tried to toe off your sneakers and step out of your shorts all at once.
Steve was pink, even if you didn’t see it, his whole body turning from you abruptly as he decided what else he might need to take from storage. A pool noodle fell to the floor as you bundled up your clothes and chucked them onto the chair, both of you decidedly not looking at each.
“Uh, right.” Steve dragged a hand through his hair, the soft ends immediately falling back across his forehead. He looked like he’d already caught most of the morning’s sun as he finally glanced at you, the tips of his ears a little pink. “Let's get started.”
—————
Your arms were crossed over your chest as you stood waist deep in the pool, partly for a little cleavage cover, mostly because you were cold. Your skin had prickled as you entered the water the same way as last time, step by step into the shallows, with Steve by your side. He didn’t hold your hands, but one of his hovered by your elbow the whole way down, ready to catch you if you stumbled, if you felt less than brave.
He murmured soft encouragement the whole way down, a new praise falling from his lips at each stair and when you made it onto the pool floor, he’d grinned.
“Look at you go, we’ll have you swimming lengths in no time.”
You couldn’t work out if he was joking or not, and the idea of going to the other end of the pool was enough to make your stomach churn, the lucky charms you’d shovelled into your mouth before leaving turning acidic. Still, you grinned - grimaced, maybe - and made a strange noise at the back of your throat. Steve thought it was supposed to be a laugh.
“Ha— yeah, sure, maybe in a while.”
So Steve just smiled and left it at that. Then he was wading a little deeper, the water moving from his upper thighs and soaking his shorts, the cherry red turning scarlet, a deeper colour that you couldn’t help but stare at and then the pool swallowed his lower body, the ripples catching around his hip bones.
He was facing you as he moved, arms out and hands coaxing, encouraging you to follow and when he saw the look of panic in your face, he stopped walking. “Hey, hey,” his voice was soft, just like the morning. It was all hazy skies, a blue-lavender fuzz and the trickle of water, the smell of chlorine and sunscreen and Steve Harrington’s wide, brown eyes. “Look, yeah? We’re not going any deeper than this, I promise. ‘N I’m right here.”
You remembered how you told him you trusted him, just seven days ago. How he’d told you in return that he’d come get you, just like he had before. It felt rude to question the man who’d once saved your life but still, you hesitated, arms still curled around your chest like you could anchor yourself to that spot.
But then Steve held out his hand, palm up and resting on top of the surface. The blue of the pool made his skin look even more tanned, sunkissed and glittering with droplets of water, beads of it sliding off of his forearm, pooling in the middle of his hand. He wiggled his fingers at you.
You didn’t even know you were reaching out to him until his hand curled around yours, bigger and wider and warmer despite the way you were still adjusting to the colder temperature. The sticky heat of the morning air didn’t do much for the large pool, the water still nipping at your skin as you moved through it.
“There you go,” Steve praised, smiling wide and earnest as you took a step. “There she is, ladies and gents, Hawkins next high diver—”
You scoffed, eyes rolling and cheeks sore when you grinned, unable to help it. But you were still moving, baby steps towards Steve and the gasp that left your lips as the water crept up towards the line of your belly button was due more to the cold than the depth.
Steve held your hand tightly, a solid grip, your own kind of anchor.
“Alright, see?” He was beaming, eyes squinting through the rays of the sun that bounced off the surface and he was too pretty with it, painted in the reflections of the ripples and stripes of rainbow. “You did it, you’re killing this.”
You didn’t point out that you hadn’t technically done any real swimming yet, but the fact you were standing further into the pool than you were seven days ago felt momentous. Eddie had spent countless summers trying to even coax you inside the property line, sunscreen smeared on his nose and pleading in his eyes.
“You still trust me?” Steve asked, eyes bright and earnest and god, it was impossible to say no. So you nodded, throat feeling a little thick and the words lost behind your teeth but you did and you meant it. And that only made Steve smile wider. “Good. We’re gonna practice floating, okay?”
The idea of it made your chest feel heavy, a sure fire sign that it wasn’t going to go as well as Steve had planned. Letting the water take control of your weight seemed impossible and the task of taking your feet off of the solid tiles at the bottom of the pool was nightmare inducing. But Steve was moving closer, his hand still in yours and his free one grazing your spine. His fingertips skimmed over your back, guiding you in front of him and turning you to the side as he spoke the whole time.
“It’s easy, right?” He explained, your shoulder brushing his bare chest and you tried not to think about it all too much, tried not to panic despite the way your heart was thundering so hard it was a wonder Steve couldn’t hear your ribs rattle and crack. “M’gonna help, I won’t let you go, I promise. You just gotta let yourself lie back, just a little. I’ll help you do the rest.”
You laughed at him, his words, his positivity that was brighter and warmer than the whole of June and July. It was a gasping, mocking thing, a laugh that got stuck in your throat and the mere suggestion of letting your body fall backwards into the pool was enough to make your eyes dart for the safety of the stairs.
“I— I can’t. I can’t do that,” you told him, eyes wide and head shaking furiously. “That’s just— no. I can’t. I’m sorry.”
Maybe you tried to move away, to take a step towards the shallow edge of the pool, or maybe you only imagined you did. Because Steve’s hand was flat against the curve of your back and his palm nearly took up the whole god damn space there. His fingers curled around your own, his thumb running over the bumps of your knuckles. Steve bent a little, knees folding under the water to bring his face down level with your own and he looked so serious when he said:
“Hey, listen, alright? I know it’s scary. But I promise you, I won’t let you go. You’re not going to go under.” He licked his lips, eyes searching yours for signs of panic, fear, flight. “I won’t let you go under the water, I swear.”
So you stayed, rooted to the spot but there nonetheless. And with a jerky nod, Steve’s hand squeezed your own and he moved into you. You felt his knees bump under your thighs, rough with coarse hair and lined with more muscle than you had, his hips bumping against the side of you. Suddenly the water didn’t feel as cold as before, the sharp chill of it gone.
“I just want your to bend your legs, okay? Just a little and then let your feet come up. M’gonna support your back. And remember, you can stand here, yeah? S’not deep, you can stand right back up.”
You mumbled something, confirmation maybe, a curse perhaps, aimed at Steve or Eddie, you weren’t sure. You about your friend who was probably still in his bed, face down and oblivious to the situation he’d once again coaxed you into. But you also remembered how he’d been knee deep in the lake as Steve pulled you out, eyes wide and terrified as he prepared to throw himself into the black water to find you too.
You lifted one foot, a mere stretch onto your toes, really, but Steve hummed in approval and his hand pressed into your back a little more, a silent promise that he was still there to catch you.
One foot came off of the pool floor.
“Thatta’ girl,” Steve whispered and he was close. So close, close enough for the words to feel warm against your temple and you could feel his gaze on the side of your face, watching, waiting. “I’ve got you.”
Another foot came off the tiles.
You dipped, just a little, just for a second, your shoulders submerging and a shocked gasp ripping from the back of your throat before Steve’s hand on your back was pushing you upwards. You tried to fight it, legs kicking awkwardly until Steve was pushing you again, upupup, and your body broke out of the water, shoulders and back and butt flat against the top of the surface.
“Keep your legs out straight,” Steve instructed, “let me take your weight, breathe in and out, keep calm.”
It all seemed too much to do at once.
Your hand was a vice grip around Steve’s, but he didn’t seem to mind. He was watching you, gaze studious and gentle, nodding almost to himself as you tried to do as he told you. Your legs straightened out and stopped kicking, the warm air kissing your shins above the water, your chest shuddering as you sucked in a breath.
“Uhuh, that’s it. Now just lie back for me, s’alright, I’ve got all of you.”
You choked out a laugh, a cynical sound and Steve’s eyes found yours. You were shaking slightly as you tried to relax, trying to drop your shoulders back into the water. “All of me? You been hitting the gym, Harrington?”
The joke was weak sounding, especially when your lip wobbled too but Steve grinned all the same. The hand on your back moved down a little, settling in the curve there, just above your ass.
“Thanks for noticing,” he replied softly, a teasing lilt to his voice, a smirk in his smile. “Eddie never compliments me.”
You laughed again, louder this time but just as harsh sounding as before. The water was filling your ears as you lay back, a cold rush to the back of your head and neck as you finally flattened yourself out.
“What a shit friend,” you managed to choke back.
Steve let go of your hand with a soft murmur of assurance, quickly placing it beside his other one, both palms supporting your frame. His touch was a delicate thing, the width of each hand encasing your back, keeping you afloat. He was the warmest thing in the water.
“Right?” Steve whispered, afraid to break the quiet, the spell that you were under. Your eyes were wide and on the sky as you lay there, watching the blue and the pink coloured clouds that were making their way over town. “You’re gonna have to have words with him.”
You nodded before realising the movement made your chin dip, your balance wavering. Your arms that had been floating at your sides tried to claw at something, anything, for purchase but found none and fear seized at your chest again.
“You’re okay,” Steve told you. “Another deep breath in— there you go. Now, keep your chest and tummy pushed out, okay? Keep it all above the surface, chin up, legs straight, you got it.”
And you did, kinda. The panic that made your chest tight loosened its grip as you let out the breath you’d been holding onto so fiercely. Your legs felt lighter once you stopped fighting the drag of them, your arms floating out to your sides, the back of your right hand brushing Steve’s stomach and you felt the muscles in his abdomen tense. But your eyes were fluttering, lashes blinking against your cheeks as you just let yourself be, your body floating, the cool water lapping at your neck, your face.
Steve’s hands were sure and steady on your back, never leaving or faltering. In fact they steered you away from the wall and kept you pushed to the surface, gently guiding and encouraging. They made your body feel warmer than the water did, the sun on your front, a dry heat that shone over your face and chest, rainbow spots in your vision and his palms were just as hot under the water.
He murmured nonsense as he let you balance on his fingertips, always encouraging and soft, pretty praises that made your toes curl into the pool and when he saw the way you trusted him, the way you let him hold you, he stopped talking altogether.
It was just you and Steve and the water under the sun.
Fingers danced a line along your spine, one set between your shoulder blades, the other holding you up from the small of your back and it was a shockingly intimate touch, especially when his skin found your own between the straps of your bathing suit.
Something told you that it would be a bad idea to open your eyes, but Eddie told you bad ideas had good outcomes all of the time. So you did just that, blinking against the sun that was rising as the morning moved on, the sky turning bluer and brighter, but not nearly as warm as Steve’s gaze.
He was looking down at you, his knees still bent and the water lapping at his chest, his face much closer than you realised. He was smiling, a soft thing that made your heart thunder loud enough to travel through the water, a steady drumbeat in your ears. And when the boy realised you were looking too, his cheeks turned that pretty pink colour, a cotton candy blush that you couldn’t help but stare at and he nodded, clearing his throat before he spoke.
“You’re doin’ great.”
The water filter trickled somewhere in the background, the sound of someone’s car door slamming in the distance. Apart from that, it was just Steve’s voice over your drum kit of a heart. It took a while for you to nod, water slipping over your chin and lips, tongue licking away chlorine.
“I’ve got a really good teacher,” you replied.
#steve harrington#steve harrington x reader#steve harrington x you#steve harrington x y/n#steve harrington fic#steve harrington fluff#steve harrington imagine#steve harrington fanfic#steve harrington fanfiction#steve harrington oneshot#steve harrington blurb#steve harrington smut
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Come Through ୨୧ George Russell x Rockstar! Reader
Is rockstar the right word? idk I just know bro is crazy bts, the white boy with Excel persona is fooling NO ONE Georgie boy. Also, Reader has vibes of the Weekend song, hence the fic name.
Lando thinks it's all a joke. He hadn't been crying, screaming and manifesting for the past three years only for his celebrity crush to be dating someone else, another driver that too.
"WHO-" He yells as he storms into Max's room, where most of the drivers had collected, they hadn't decided but they all just gravitated towards the blonde with sweet blue eyes who listened to the vent and gave the best hugs, "AFTER ALL WE WENT THROUGH- WHO IS DATING Y/N L/N?"
All eyes were on him, Max lying on his bed, Charles, Carlos and Daniel with him. Lance, Esteban and Pierre were on the sofa, playing FIFA on Max's PS5, George and Alex were sharing the smaller two-seater, Zhou and Yuki were passing a tennis ball to each other and Logan and Oscar were sleeping, cuddling close on the floor surrounded by pillows, but were now woken up by Landos yelling.
"Lando stop screaming," Charles yelled back.
"No," he simply replied and made his way to the bed where he jumped on top of Carlos and Daniel, the older of whom groaned and grumbled something about his back, but Lando didn't care, he pushed his phone in Max's face, blurring his face in Carlos's neck.
xoxof1
xoxof1 Y/n l/n an infamous British rockstar most famous for her multiple dating scandals and most recently an arrest is rumoured to date a F1 driver.
username MOTHER WHAT ARE YOU DOING HERE 😭😭😭
username girl... knowing her it's like Lewis or someone
username fr like hasn't she 'dated' a dozen older guys not to mention her record with women
username girl why are you hating like a man, she's iconic and we all know it
username just lost my wife to a vroom-vroom man no one talk to me
Max began laughing, looking up from the post to the distraught Lando currently getting his hair played with by Carlos.
"Mate, I don't think you're her type," he threw the phone back to the whining boy.
"Yeah? And how would you know? I look exactly like Edward!" He pointed to the bassist of the band you were a part of.
"Kelly loves her music..." he muttered, looking away much to the younger man's amusement.
"HAH!" He shrieked, "SHE'S NOT YOUR GIRLFRIEND ANYMORE!!" He laughed to which Carlos pushed his head down, eliciting an 'oomph'.
"I've been told many times," Max muttered to himself and turned to Lando to hear the rest of his rant, though loud and fast, the boy was the best source of entertainment they had.
"Max, look at her band, she's so coooool," he groaned, passing the phone to him again.
Cupidd
Cupidd THANK YOU LA!! We'll be back with 'young, numb and brunette' after this short break!!
y/nl/n My old man said I had to be in Shangai this weekend 🫡 but trust- I will be back to piss y'all off with Eddie asap
edwrdnotcllen MY WIFE HAS LEFT ME FOR A TWINK HELP
y/nl/n shut up Eddie your the twinkiest twink I know
username I love that they have had multiple partners in the past yet still always call each other husband and wife
username I pity her boyfriend 😭 imagine having to compete with a man who looks like Edward
username SHES GOING TO A RACE????
username nooooo pls my parents
username girl they have never dated, both y/n and Edward have had multiple partners and relationships with men and women in the past. Leave them alone, they're adults
username FOUND Y/N'S BFS ALT GUYS!!!
"She's coming to China?" Max asked no one in particular but Lando took it as an invitation to freak out.
"Bro please, please, please let me win this one, I'll owe you forever, bro please," Lando tried his puppy eyes on Max but Max jumped out of bed calling his girlfriend, walking out the room trying his best to convince the older woman to not attend the race.
"I have so much work to do," Lando gasped and followed Max out the room.
The race was one to remember, with Max winning but George a close second and Lando barely a tenth away on the third.
He hadn't been able to find the girl anywhere but at least he got points for the team. He went to the McLaren team party and forgot about the other celebration taking place.
xoxof1
xoxof1 The unexpected couple have been revealed in a series of leaked pictures of the private f1 party after the driver George Russell had a podium finish for his Shangai race.
username Mr.Russell I was unaware of your rizz, forgive me sir.
username WHITE MAN DOES IT IN ONE DAY 😭😭😭
landonorris When i catch you george when I catch you
username LANDO???
username he's one of ussssss
username bbg you get me 😮💨 in ways no man ever has
George woke up with the worst headache he ever had in his life, he was sure he'd never get over this hangover but then he saw y/n next to him, hair tussled wearing the white shirt he was wearing last night.
"Y/n, darling, wake up," he pressed a kiss on her shoulder.
"mmhm," the woman groaned, turning to the blonde next to her and kissing him, the taste of vodka still fresh in her mouth.
She melted into his touch as he deepened the kiss, " Mornin' G," she whispered to him, voice hoarse from the night before.
He smiled in return, placing one last kiss on the corner of her lips. She searched around for her phone, finding it fallen amongst their haphazardly discarded clothes and opened Instagram to thousands of notifications.
She was used to it by now, it was quite fun.
y/nl/n
y/nl/n If I speak... @/georgerussell
edwrdnotcllen @/yn/ln you are so welcome for not squealing as soon as I knew
y/nl/n girl you asked me if you could kiss him after???
edwrdnotcllen And I still am??
username WHAT-
username I just know Lando is fuming rn
username y'all need a third? a dog? a maid?
username it should be me instead of him!!!
username god I see what you've done for others 😭
"Darling, did you post-" George had just begun but his room was rudely broken into, running in he saw a hyper papaya-coloured blur followed by a very hungover Max Verstappen.
Lando gasped looking at the woman next to George, screeching at an inhuman pitch, "HOW'D THIS PIECE OF VANILLA FRAPPUCCINO WOO HER??!?!?" He pointed at Y/n, making the woman laugh.
George offended, scoffed at the boy, "Well if you must know, I met her at Nando's party-" he was cut off once again, this time by the Dutch man.
"That makes sense actually," he said and immediately grabbed Lando by the collar and dragged him out, "Sorry guys!" he yelled after himself.
"I like your friends," Y/n said smirking making the taller man blush and push the woman slightly, before collapsing back into bed, making a silent promise of never trying to out-drink the woman again.
#f1#formula 1#max verstappen#f1 fanfic#f1 x reader#f1 imagine#george russell x reader#george russell#george russell imagine#george russell x you#lando norris x reader#lando norris#max verstappen x reader#george russel x reader
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better than it was - f1 grid
previous part (secret Santa) | masterlist
pairings: f1 grid x driver!fem!reader | warnings: NOT intended for minors + mentions of fingering (f receiving) + angst(ish)
a/n: the long awaited part 2 is finally here. enjoy!!!
it’s poor behavior to talk about this with Daniel. but he’s the only emotionally intelligent person left on the grid and he’s seemed to pick up your agitations.
“three months? you know, I can check that out for you—“
you place your hands hard against his shoulder and shove him into the wall, “this is not funny! my sex life is not a joke.” you growl in his direction.
Daniel was not the person to consult. he was a talker at heart and a gossiper. he wiggles his way into the drama, and exits before you can even have a last breath.
so leave it to him to reorganize the secret Santa cards and perfectly place your name into his hands. the two people under a serious dry spell that could make the desert laughable.
“so he set us up?” you stare blankly into the ocean blue eyes in front of you. his pink plump lips are covered in salt from the rim of his margarita.
“I didn’t know until last week. Lando talks too you know?”
lando. all night you’d consulted in him and he was riding right along on this plan. he knew for a fact he’d show up, even when you doubted. every time you pondered the hand writing or the meaning of the gift, lando stood right there with a faint smirk and evil laughter track in his head.
“I’m stupid to think you’d actually have the brains to do all this.”
he gasps, sarcastically placing a hand against his chest, “I have you know all the things said in the card were true. I’m offering you a special gift.”
rolling your eyes you take a sip of his margarita and place it back on the coaster, “it’s still no. I can’t have sex with you.”
“with me?” he seems appalled and you know he’s not faking this. there’s nothing wrong with him. he’s absolutely perfect, and the rumors that circle around about him scream fuckboy. so why should you even do it? all it will end up being is bad press.
and if the news ever got out that you two—rivaled drivers to be specific—were having a secret affair? you cannot imagine that no amount of damage control and PR training could save you two from this wreck.
its risky behavior, to be with him right now, but the dim lighting and closed down bar you’re in help hide yourselves to the world.
“you cannot be serious. you don’t know what’s said about you? I’ll have you know, women talk.” you scoff downing the last drops of tequila and sugar before sending the glass at the edge of the table.
“but this is different.” he corrects you, “we can fix each others problems.” he adds hoping to change the look on your face that screams of terror and fear. you know hooking up with him was a bad idea, but why’d it have to feel so good? why’d the sex in the back seat of his car make your body scream in ways it hasn’t before. why’d it have to be so attractive to hear him say your name when you sucked his cock? why’d all of this have to be so good yet so bad?
FEBRUARY 2024
it’s been three months…again.
it’d been three months since the best mind blowing back seat sex you’ve ever had. and now you’re back where this all lead you before. in a dry spell.
it didn’t help that preseason testing was around the corner, and Bahrain was just as dry and overheated as you were.
you stayed in your teams garage whenever you had the chance. you didn’t dare watch his car fly down the straights and turns of the track, and you didn’t dare wait up for him at night.
you were back to how things were before, just friendly.
however it felt irritating to him. to see that race suit hang against your hips, the fireproof show off every curve of your body. it pained him to watch you just walk off.
“you’re having problems again.” Lando announces, his voice startling you that you nearly lose your page in your book before tossing it aside on your bed.
“what are you talking about?”
“you never told me about December.” he redirects the conversation, seating himself on the edge of your hotel bed, “you always tell me this stuff.”
“not after I found out you were meddling this situation do I tell you this stuff.”
a blush covers his cheeks as he nervously scratches the back of his neck, “okay so I wasn’t totally innocent in this— but neither are you! you shouldn’t of opened your mouth to Daniel!” he exclaims rather loudly that you’re sure whoever shares the walls with you could hear.
huffing out a sigh, you tell Lando from start to finish everything that happened that night many moons ago. by the time you’re finished, Lando looks as if there was more to be told, but that was it. the story ended at him saying he’d call you and he never did.
“he never called?” Lando mumbles the words to himself, you can see he’s trying to connect the dots on maybe why he never called but you’d given up. you spent two weeks in that same rut Lando was in and decided it wasn’t worth it. you both got what you needed and that was the end of it.
“trust me, I’d know if he called, but the line has been silent.”
lando’s eyes widen, a lightbulb clicking, “I have an idea,” he stands up off the mattress and before you can stop him he’s sprinting out the door letting it slam behind him.
this is why you never talk to Lando Norris.
—
“so I never called.”
the words come from behind you, and while all signs tell you, you should turn around, you avoid it. you keep reading your book in hopes that maybe he’ll shoo along and take the hint.
“that’s it? after all that—“
“all that?” you say slamming the book shut. all that? you could not believe him. while the sex was good, and he was a natural at giving you pleasures, he also didn’t last. it took no more than one minute for him to come and that was the end of it.
“you really believe it was ‘all that’?” you turn to face him now to see the man you once spent an evening with. he looked different yet the same. there was more muscle to his body, more of a maturity than there was before.
“y/n, the deed is done. did you really think I was going to call?”
you can feel your heart plummet out of its cavity, thinking back to your early conversation, you always knew he never would. he ran his way around women often, and always left them to dry. he wasn’t ever going to call because that’s who he was.
“wow.” you say feeling as if all the air in your lungs were gone. like the only air left was the dry air of Bahrain and it wasn’t enough to keep you from falling, “after you said this was different. you played me with this stupid Christmas gift and now,” you pause. your chest tirelessly rose and fell trying to supply air, “now you expect me to what? forgive you? move on like all is well?”
shaking your head you stumble across the empty paddock to find somewhere—anywhere away from him.
you slam yourself into bodies, unable to look up from the blacktop pavement beneath your feet as you push yourself into the nearest garage and drivers room. slamming the door shut jolts whoever is in the room with you, he turns from his game to find you in the corner hunched over trying to breathe.
“Jesus, y/n.” Lewis pushed himself out of the chair he’s in and moves down to your level, “what’s the matter?”
“max.” you grit out through your teeth feeling tears threaten to spill, “fucking max.”
you can’t see the frown that takes hold of his lips, but you feel his arms quickly wrap around you making you safe in his embrace, “so your secret Santa sucked huh?” Lewis chuckles carefully place a kiss to your hair, “I assume he was awful then? didn’t fulfill your needs?”
a scoff unconsciously escapes your lips as a reply, “fulfilled his own then left. said he’d call, he never did.”
Lewis let’s out a sigh, pulling himself an inch away from you, “he didn’t—“ Lewis stops himself trying to find the right words, “you didn’t get what you wanted?” he exhales, watching you pull your knees into your chest trying to shrink into the corner.
“no.” you whimper softly feeling a heat wave across your face. it’s humiliating really is what it was. to know the entire grid left last season knowing of you dry spell and if word got around, they’d know yet again, you’d been let down. so what’s Lewis to do? be a horrible man and not give you the pleasures you deserve? you’re a woman after all, a woman who, simply put, just wanted to feel.
Lewis extended his arm towards you, his fingers brushing your cheeks, he pulls a few hairs off your tear stained cheeks, “darling,” he moves closer again, this time you can almost hear his heart beating out of his chest, you can smell the lingering scent of rubber mixed with his cologne, “all you have to do is ask, and I can show you.”
swallowing the lump in your throat you remove your knees from your tight grip and slightly part your thighs, “show me.” your voice feels small in the room, quiet like as small as mouse.
he’s gentle. closing the gap between you two, his lips carefully crashing against yours, teeth tug on your bottom lip and his tongue sneaks in. he’s more experienced at this than you are, you let him take control.
slipping his hand down your pants, his index finger swipes across your panties that are thick with moisture, “six months of this huh? must’ve been hard.” you cut off his chuckle with a kiss to his cheek, lips trailing down his neck, you’re sucking at his earlobe while his finger slips in your folds.
your breath hitches, a moan escaping your mouth that you just can’t control as you feel him pump you, his thumb run carefully across your clit. it’s pitiful, how easy it was. six months and not a single man had touched like Lewis did. not even max could get you like this.
“feels good, huh?” he asks, softly. watching your eyes roll to the back of your head while he continues to rub the bundle of nerves and feeling the need to add a second finger.
you’re taking him well, despite the shake in your legs and the pitiful lack of self control to stop yourself from coming so soon. Lewis doesn’t really seem to mind, he just undoes his pants, remove his underwear from around his hips, and hoist you up against the wall.
your head pounds against the wall, fingers gripping Lewis’s shoulders, his rhythm is short, sporadic like he too had been waiting six months to fuck someone. the two of you are at match for who’s the loudest in the drivers room, and if anyone was listening they didn’t seem to stop you two.
he’s long, no doubt. it’s painful how you’ve never thought of Lewis like this. like someone who needs someone so bad they do it in their room where almost everyone can hear them. he was a man with honor around these tracks, but fuck his honor. he’d rather give you the pleasure you failed to recieve months ago.
finally releasing the two of you pull away from each other and lie against the wall, bodies nearly toppling each other.
“was it anything like that? with max?”
you attempt to let out a laugh, but you’re out of breath panting from the recent activities.
“he didn’t last as long as you did.”
Lewis laughs pressing a kiss to your cheek, “some of us are more experienced than others.”
—
DEAR MAX,
looks like I gave her the one thing you couldn’t. merry belated Christmas to me.
— LEWIS HAMILTON
tags: @monzabee @lovelytsunoda @willowpains @vellicora @smartstupyd @bbxnny-bbxtch @asmoothoperator @surazim @whyamireadingthis @msolbesg @barcelonaloverf1life @landowecanbewc @uuzhanggggggg @champomiel @yagirlhayes @sugarvibez @omgsuperstarg @fluvsof @itsjustaninchident
#daniel ricciardo#lando norris#f1 imagine#f1 imagines#f1 x reader#f1 fiction#f1 fics#f1 fanfic#f1 x you#f1 x y/n#f1 x female driver#f1 x female reader#f1 smut#Lewis Hamilton#max verstappen#formula 1 fanfic#formula 1 x reader#formula 1 x you#formula 1 imagine#formula 1 fic#formula 1 smut#formula 1 x y/n#formula 1 x female reader#formula 1 x driver reader#max verstappen x reader#lewis hamilton x reader#lando norris x reader#daniel ricciardo x reader
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norman fcking rockwell pt. 2 | daniel ricciardo x fem! reader
part one.
summary; y/n decided to confront daniel after he embarrassed her at dinner.
warnings; cursing
word count; 685
taglist; @namgification @louvrepool @locelscs @thehufflepuffavenger1
note; requested ! tbh i didn’t know how to write this bc i originally wrote pt 1 as a stand alone 🤒🤒so this lowk sucks my bad yall😞🤕🤕
‘born to die’ masterlist.
masterlist !
“Sunshine!” Daniel called out after closing the front door when the last guest had left. The tone in his voice was back to the happy clingy guy Y/n knew behind doors.
“Why’re you cleaning everything now?” He questioned as he saw her standing by the running sink in the kitchen and cleaning the last of the pans, “Just clean it tomorrow. I wanna cuddle with ya’!”
“Not now, Daniel.”
Her cold tone made him almost flinch. She never spoke to him like that. He furrowed up his eyebrows in confusion. “What’s up with you, my love?” He questions, wrapping an arm around her waist.
She scoffs and shoves his arm away. She turns off the sink, quickly dries her hands then walks away from him. The Australian further furrowed up his eyebrows as he followed her to their shared room. “Babe?” He questions as she heads to the bathroom to wash her face and do her skincare routine.
Daniel was confused. He didn’t know why his girlfriend was suddenly all upset. He sat at the edge of their shared bed, lost in his thoughts.
“Are you about to start your period or something?”
His question earned him a glare instead of a verbal response as she poked her head out of the bathroom. Moments later, she appears in her pajamas. “C’mon, sunshine, just tell me what’s wrong? Did the food make you sick?”
“The wife has you tied down?” Y/n says in a high-pitched tone to mock his friend, “Well you know the Missus. Always bein’ clingy and wantin’ me around.” She scoffed, sitting on the opposite side of the bed and far from Daniel.
“What are you saying-“
“Now why don’t you be a lady and get us a couple more beers and more of those potatoes.” She finishes off, rolling her eyes at his interruption. “Seriously, Daniel? You’re ridiculous. Why should I expect anything different from a man around his guy friends.”
“You’re mad ‘bout that?” Daniel asked with a chuckle. He tilts his head to the side and continues, “It was just a silly joke, babe. No need to get angry about it-“
“It was humiliating, Daniel.” Although her voice was soft and quiet, he could hear the hurt in it. “Their girlfriends all looked at me with pity while their laughs sounded like it was mocking me. It was embarrassing. You humiliated me in front of your own friends and for what?”
He stayed silent, finally recognizing how his words had hurt her. Each word she said emphasized how hurt and upset she felt.
At his silence, she scoffed and continued. “But you’re just a man. I wouldn’t expect you to understand.” Y/n sighs, her fingers fiddling with the ends of her hair. “Y’know, you’re fun and wild, especially with your friends. But damn, you don’t know how that shit felt. I felt blue.”
Daniel scoots closer to her and reaches over to tuck a strand of her hair behind her ear. “Darlin’, please forgive me.” His voice came out in a genuine whisper. “Those types of jokes are the ones my friends make. I know it isn’t an excuse for me embarrassing you because I don’t need to make the same jokes as ‘em. I should’ve thought twice ‘bout my words.”
“They were stupid.” She mumbles, keeping her eyes on him.
“Yeah, they were stupid jokes. I was stupid for it.” He says with a chuckle. “I know it won’t erase what happened or how you felt, but ‘m sorry. Truly. Believe me, darlin’.” He said the last sentence in a southern accent which was something that always made her smile.
And he was right because she threw a pillow at him as she failed to hide her smile. “You’re on thin ice, Daniel Ricciardo. And I’m going to be listening to Norman Fucking Rockwell by Lana for a long time! You hear me.” She said in between chuckles.
“Promise, I’ll never do or say anything stupid again.”
“But you are just a man…”
“Darlin’, not those types of stupid jokes. But you do make me act stupidly in love.”
#formula one x reader#f1 x reader#f1 scenario#formula one scenarios#f1 imagine#formula one imagines#formula one imagine#f1 scenarios#daniel ricciardo scenarios#daniel ricciardo x reader#daniel ricciardo imagine
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Knock, Knock (M) | Part 5
Daniel Ricciardo x Fem!Reader | Lando Norris x Fem!Reader
Summary: Lando really needs to learn how to knock.
Smut, Fluff | Warnings: 18+, Fingering, Oral (Female & Male Receiving), PinV | Word Count: 4.4K
As the boys crossed the finish line, they ended the race in the positions they started, which was a win due to the chaos over the previous hour and a half. You cheered along with the others in the garage. The smile was unable to be wiped from your face. It was enthralling to be able to witness Daniel doing something he loved.
With the good results, everyone decided that they were going out to celebrate before having to fly out the next day.
You stood in front of the full-length mirror in the hotel room as you chose which earrings you would wear.
“Danny,” you called as he opened the bathroom door, “which ones?”
As you held out the options, Daniel whistled, his amber eyes running up and down the length of your body. He immediately reached out and grabbed your hips, pressing you against his damp skin. His lips rested against your neck.
“Damn, baby. You look so good. I can’t wait to show you off. Making everyone jealous,” Daniel murmured as he kissed up your neck until he pressed his lips to yours.
You went with a short, black, practically see-through dress. The black lacy lingerie is evident beneath the sheer fabric, not leaving much to the imagination.
“Daniel,” you laughed as you pushed him away, “I need your help making a serious decision.”
He pulled back from you, “Okay, serious. Go ahead.”
You held out the earrings once again, “Which ones?”
Daniel scanned the options, thinking hard about the decision. Before landing on the ones you held in your left hand, “These.”
“Good choice.”
Daniel kissed you again before turning to his suitcase and picking out his outfit. After rifling through the few appropriate options he had, he landed on a short-sleeved button-down and a pair of ridiculously short shorts. His sinful tattooed thigh is on full display.
You sat on the edge of the bed as you watched Daniel bounce around the room: getting dressed, doing his hair, brushing his teeth, and putting on his jewelry. You could watch him do the most mundane things without getting bored.
“Are you ready to go?” Daniel asked, pulling you from your trance.
You nodded, getting up to slip on your shoes.
Daniel grabbed your hand, and both of you headed to the lobby and into the waiting car.
The intimate club was bustling when you arrived. The lights were dim, and the music was vibrating the entire building. It was an assault to the senses but in the best way possible. Daniel held onto your hand while you weaved your way through the bodies, making your way to the bar.
“Whatcha want, babe?” Daniel whispered against your ear.
“Tequila soda with lime.” He nodded and turned back to the bartender to order.
As you waited for your drinks, you stuck yourself to the back of Daniel, wrapping your arms around his waist. Daniel settled into you, resting his hands against yours.
It was only a few minutes before you had your drinks, and you made your way over to the private table that a few from the team had reserved. Everyone cheered and greeted Daniel and you as you appeared through the crowd.
As you got closer, you felt a heavy gaze burning into your heated skin. Once the faces of the group became less hazy, your eyes met with Lando’s. Lust colored his beautiful blue eyes. He looked good, dressed similarly to Daniel, though his shirt was just about as sheer as your dress.
Your eyes did not leave his as Daniel guided you around the group, eventually standing next to Lando.
Daniel hugged Lando after saying hello. The image of Lando’s hands splayed on the small of your boyfriend’s back had your heart racing. Gosh, his hands were so big. You wondered how they would feel around your throat or holding you down while he pumped his fingers into your wet heat. A tiny whimper squeezed from your throat at the thought.
Before you realized Lando was pulling you into a hug, encircling you in his embrace.
“Hi, sweetheart,” he giggled.
Once your body finally caught up with what was happening, you wrapped your arms around the boy who was pressed against you.
“Hi,” you responded, your head tucked against his neck. Lando smelled delectable, and you wanted to envelope yourself in him.
As you snuggled further into Lando’s arms, Daniel cleared his throat from where he stood next to you.
The two of you sprung apart as you turned to look at Daniel. He did not look mad, which was shocking given how close Lando and you were, just amused. You smiled at your boyfriend as you pressed yourself to his side, sipping your drink while he wrapped his arm around your waist. Pulling you into him before turning towards Lando.
Standing close, Lando and Daniel had a hushed conversation between them. Both of them leaned into the other to be heard over the music. Daniel rested his hand on Lando’s shoulder, you were practically smushed in the middle of their chests as they talked over your head. You watched as Lando’s lips were millimeters from Daniel’s ear. You were transfixed by their proximity. As their conversation went on, Lando’s hand made its way to rest on your hip, right below Daniel’s.
It all became too much, “I am going to go dance,” you declared as you pushed away from the both of them. You put down your empty glass as you walked from the boys.
You finally felt as though you could breathe properly as you made your way to the center of the dance floor. You let the music take over as you danced to the beat. Letting the people and the bass guide you.
You were unsure how much time had passed before a pair of arms wrapped around your frame. Pulling you flush against them and moving with you. Before you could push the stranger off, they spoke.
“Hi,” Lando whispered.
You did not respond and only continued to grind against Lando. Your bodies moved in sync. You could feel Lando growing hard, it only spurred you on more. He moaned in your ear as you deliberately pressed against him.
“Careful, sweetheart,” Lando warned, his hands tightening on your hips. You pushed back, rubbing his cock again, laughing as you did so.
Lando groaned, “You are a tease.”
Lando ran his hand from your hip, up your stomach, and between the swell of your breasts before coming to rest on your jaw. He forcefully turned your face back to look at him. The lust that filled his eyes earlier was still present but tenfold at this point. His tongue flicked out to wet his lips. The air was thick as he glanced down at your mouth.
“Lando,” you whimpered.
Then his mouth was pressed to yours. Hot and desperate. His pouty lips fitted between yours, his tongue forcing its way into your mouth. You gasped as you deepened the kiss. Meeting his tongue in an erotic dance.
Alarm bells were ringing in your head but the need for Lando was greater.
Lando was the first to pull back, you chased his lips not ready to be done kissing him.
“Sweetheart, maybe we should take this somewhere else,” Lando whispered against your lips.
You nodded your head as you let Lando lead you to the edge of the dance floor where Daniel stood. You faltered as you got closer to him. You were fucked. Up until then, everything with Lando seemed harmless enough but kissing him brought this into a new realm. But, as you reached Daniel you noticed he did not appear upset. Instead, he looked turned on. That couldn’t be it.
The moment you were close enough Daniel reached out to grab you. Forcing your body to his. His cock was hard in his shorts.
“Let’s get out of here,” he demanded. You nodded your head.
As you turned to leave, Daniel looked back to Lando who was suddenly very interested in the floor. “You coming, Lando?” Daniel called.
Lando’s head snapped to meet Daniel’s before his eyes flickered to you. Your mouth hung open. Lando nodded before falling into step behind the two of you.
The ride back to the hotel was torture. With Lando to your left and Daniel on your right, the car was suffocating with desire. Both men had a hand high on your thigh, Daniel’s a bit higher, his pinky running along your clothed slit. Your breathing was ragged and you were positive the driver could hear.
Lando leaned over and pressed open-mouth kisses up your neck until he reached your ear.
“Do you think Daniel will let me fuck that pretty pussy of yours?” he asked softly.
You whined in response. Lando laughed breathlessly. Thankfully, you had pulled up to the hotel and were quickly ushered out of the car by Daniel. The three of you walked through the lobby and over to the elevators with a clear eagerness. With other people in the small space with you, you all kept your hands to yourselves.
Once the hotel door clicked closed behind you Daniel’s mouth and hands were on you.
“Fuck, baby. You have no idea how much you turn me on,” Daniel growled as he pressed his hard-on against you. You moaned.
“Should we show Lando how perfect you are?” Daniel asked.
“Please,” you begged.
With a final kiss pressed to your lips, Daniel turned you around in his arms. Your eyes immediately met Lando’s, who was standing a few feet in front of you. His hands hanging down at his sides as if he were waiting for his next instructions from Daniel.
Daniel grabbed the hem of your dress and pulled it over your head. So, you were standing there in your black underwear. But, he did not stop there. He quickly took off your bra and panties, so you were completely naked in front of both of them.
“Lando, why don’t you come over and kiss her,” Daniel suggested.
Lando looked frozen but quickly moved to smash his lips to yours. You were still wrapped in Daniel’s arms but neither boy seemed to mind. You moaned into Lando’s mouth as he picked up right where you guys left off in the club. His tongue tangled with yours.
Lando kissed down your neck, biting and sucking marks as he made his way to your chest. Where he kissed and licked your breasts, moving closer to your nipples. Taking one of the hardened buds between his pink lips. You moaned and ground your wet pussy against his thigh that he snuck between your legs.
As he harshly sucked your nipples, Daniel took over kissing your neck.
Lando moved from your breast and slowly kissed down your stomach until he was kneeling, his face right in front of where you wanted it most. As he leaned in to press his mouth to your dripping folds, Daniel’s hand reached out and grabbed his curly locks. He tugged Lando’s mouth away from you, forcing him to meet his eyes.
“I did not say you could taste her,” Daniel taunted.
Lando's eyes fell in between your legs and then back to Daniel as if he was debating whether he could disobey him. But, he thought better of it and sat back on his heels.
“Good boy,” said Daniel, “Now why don’t you go sit on the chair?”
Lando scrambled to his feet and tripped over his feet to plant himself in the chair that faced the bed.
“Why don’t we show Lando how well you take my cock,” Daniel said as he moved you to the bed.
As you fell onto the mattress, Daniel quickly took his clothes off. Standing over you with his beautiful cock hard and leaking.
“I want your dick in my mouth,” you demanded breathlessly.
“On your knees then,” Daniel instructed.
You maneuvered off the bed, kneeling at his feet. You looked up at him, his eyes hazy with desire. As Daniel laced his fingers in your hair, you took his length in your hand, gently stroking him. Coaxing precum from the tip. You watched as it dribbled down the length of his shaft, completely transfixed. Your tongue ran along the underside, licking up the trail of precum. You moaned as you tasted him. Then you wrapped your lips around his swollen tip, gently sucking that sensitive spot before completely swallowing to the hilt. Whining as he filled you up.
Daniel gasped and involuntarily fucked into your mouth, swearing under his breath as his hands tightened in your hair. You chuckled around his cock, glancing up to see his eyes screwed shut and his mouth hung open. Gosh, he was so beautiful like that. You could never get over it.
The wet sounds of your spit coating his cock and gagging as he continue to fuck your face filled the room. You could feel his cock twitch in your mouth.
Daniel pulled you from his cock, “Baby, I am not going to last. On the bed.”
You made your way back to the bed, glancing over at Lando who had removed all his clothes at some point. He was lazily stroking his cock. His dick looked just as beautiful as you remembered.
You laid back on the mountain of pillows, spreading your legs giving both Daniel and Lando a nice view of your dripping folds. Lando’s warm eyes met yours, and desire pooled in your stomach. Then Daniel was filling your field of vision, slowly crawling his way up the bed until he was lying in between your legs. His hands gripped your thighs, he looked up to you with his heated amber eyes before directly placing his mouth on your clit.
Your back arched off the bed as your fingers weaved through his curls. You moaned as Daniel was unrelenting. Licking and sucking like a man starved. He was always so good with his mouth.
“Danny, I need you to fuck me,” you demanded breathlessly.
He smirked from between your legs, “Your wish is my command.”
Daniel kissed his way up your body. Biting and sucking marks as he went until your legs were wrapped around his waist. Daniel’s fingers pressed into your thighs as he spread you open for him. Before grabbing his cock at the base and thrusting into you. You moaned as he filled you up completely.
His gaze never left your face. Your face twisted in pleasure. Your eyes closed shut and your mouth parted, as you stretched around him. Feeling completely full. Daniel pulled out, leaving the tip in before he drove back into you.
“Open your eyes,” Daniel commanded tenderly mid-thrust.
When you opened your eyes, your sight fell to Daniel’s warm eyes. Gone was that hungry look and it was replaced with this tender, love-consuming look. Daniel looked at you with so much passion your breath got caught in your throat. Your boyfriend had the power to leave you breathless and that was something that you do not believe you could ever get used to.
“I love you,” You stated, your voice small.
A wide smile took over Daniel’s face, “I love you.”
Daniel leaned down and placed his lips on yours. Your lips met in a heated passion, clumsy and heavy against one another. The thrusting made it almost impossible to properly kiss one another. But, it was perfect. You moaned into Daniel’s mouth as he continued to thrust into your tight heat.
You were so close. You could feel the warmth burning in your lower belly, your orgasm attempting to claim your body.
“Danny, I am close,” you whined.
Your back arched from the mattress below you, and you released all over Daniel, as he continued to chase his orgasm. A breathless scream forced itself from your throat. Everything was overwhelming and too much, but still not enough. You clawed at Daniel’s back, leaving angry red marks, as your orgasm lingered.
“Fuck, baby. I am going to come in the perfect pussy of yours,” Daniel moaned as he increased his speed before releasing into you. Being sure that his cum was deep in your before pulling out.
As his cum began leaking out of you, Daniel pressed it back in, “Don’t want to lose any of that.”
You moaned as Daniel chuckled at your reaction.
“Lando, I know you have been craving to taste her, so why don’t you come over here,” Daniel said, moving to lay next to you.
You had almost forgotten that Lando was in the room when Daniel brought your attention back to him. You watched as Lando hopped from the chair and made his way over to the bed. He slowly crawled up to you until his mouth hovered over your pussy. He winked before trailing his tongue up your pussy. Lapping up Daniel’s cum mixed with your release. Lando moaned, burying his face deeper between your legs. His tongue fucking into you.
“Lando,” you moaned. Rocking your hips against his face. Your fingers tangled in his curls.
Lando’s nose nudged against your clit and he continued to eat you out.
“You taste so good, sweetheart,” Lando mumbled between your thighs. He was relentless as he sucked your clit. Moaning as he did so, the vibrations caused your eyes to roll to the back of your head.
You could not keep your hips still as you rode his face. The pleasure was the only thing consuming your mind.
“I am going to come, Lando,” you cried.
Lando doubled his efforts with the clear objective of bringing you over the edge. It did not take long before you were coming again. Crying out Lando’s name as you pulled on his hair.
Lando rested his head on your thigh, as he looked up at you. His hand delicately traced random designs on your hip.
“You are so beautiful when you come,” he whispered against your skin.
“Isn’t she, though you already knew that,” Daniel joked but there was no heat behind his words.
Lando chuckled.
“Do you want to fuck her?” Daniel asked Lando.
Lando gasped, “Please.”
Without the energy to speak you began to grab at Lando, forcing him up from between your legs. Once face to face, Lando leaned down to press his lips to yours, a sweet and gentle kiss. He reached up to brush the hair from your face.
“Beautiful,” he whispered.
“Lando, fuck me please,” you quietly begged.
With a glance over to Daniel, Lando slowly guided his member into you, filling you up in ways that were different from Daniel. You began panting as soon as he was fully inside of you. You were desperate for more. You began to swivel your hips against his, hoping to persuade him to give you more. You needed more, and Lando was more than willing to give it to you.
Landon gave in to your wishes and began pumping in and out of you. Lando leaned down so your chests were pressed together; driving his cock deeper into you. Being completely spent, your hands found purchase on his shoulders. Your nails dug into the skin there, which was sure to leave red marks. The thought of your imprints on his skin was extremely appealing to you. You wanted him to be marked up by you. You craved it. It meant even when this night was over he would still have you on his skin. With a turn of your head, you were tucked into the crook of his neck. You had a wide expanse of skin to play with. Biting and sucking any place your mouth could reach. You wanted everyone to know that he was with someone even if nobody would know it was you. The thought of him getting all embarrassed that his neck was covered in bruises spurred you on.
“Fuck,” Lando muttered, as you continued to mark him up. His hips snapping against yours at an unforgiving pace.
“Do you like that? Me leaving hickeys all over you. Claiming you as mine,” you taunted breathlessly.
Lando fucked deeper into you as he moaned. The sound of your bodies coming together traveled around the room. You attempted to meet him with every thrust, chasing another orgasm. Sweat began to bead on his forehead and his curls damp from his efforts. His tan skin was flush. You tried to drink all of him in, attempting to commit this moment to memory.
The pleasure was building and you were back on the cusp, “I am going to come,” you moaned
“Are you going to come for me again, sweetheart?” Lando whispered as he leaned back to look at you.
You nodded your head, too exhausted to form words.
Lando gave you one of his signature smiles before picking up his pace even more. He dropped one of your legs to rub your clit. Lando made sure to match his thrusts with his hand. You writhed against his slick body. Your legs began to quiver and your toes buckled.
“Let go, sweetheart,” Lando prompted.
Your body convulsed with pleasure. Your mouth was ripped open with silent screams as your orgasm took over your body. Your pussy clenched around Lando as you released around him.
As your body became lax, Lando pulled out from your heat. A groan falls from your lips. Already miss Lando being inside of you.
With a couple of strokes and his face screwed up in pleasure, Lando released on your stomach with a moan. Before either of you could react, Daniel collected some of Lando’s cum on his fingers bringing them up to your mouth. Forcing you to clean his fingers, licking all of Lando’s cum from them. It was filthy in every way you love.
“Fuck,” Lando whispered as he watched Daniel feed you his release.
You lay back on the bed, absolutely spent. Lando collapsed beside you, his arm slung over your torso. He leaned over to press a delicate kiss to your lips.
“Gosh, you are perfect,” he whispered. You chuckled breathlessly in response.
With a gentle kiss pressed to your forehead, Daniel got up and made his way to the bathroom. You snuggled further into Lando’s arms.
“Let me clean you up,” Daniel said gently. You groaned but moved so Daniel could clean the drying cum from your stomach and the mess between your thighs.
Daniel tossed the wet towel on the floor before crawling into bed on the side not occupied by Lando. Planting a sweet, loving kiss on your lips.
“Thank you,” you whispered before letting sleep consume you.
When morning came around you were still wrapped in Daniel’s and Lando’s arms. Surprisingly, Daniel was already awake.
“Good morning,” he whispered, his features soft from sleep.
“Mmmm,” you responded.
Daniel laughed as he kissed you. Gently biting your bottom lip. His hands running up your side. You moaned against his lips. Pressing your chest to his. His fingers trailed down your body until he reached your core. Slowly trailing over your clit. Brushing it but not giving you enough of what you wanted.
“More, Danny,” you begged. Thrusting up in the hopes of getting more.
“Started without me,” Lando whispered against your neck.
You gasped, turning to look at Lando before pressing your lips to his. Delicately biting at your bottom lip. Before he began leaving a trail of gentle kisses down your neck until he reached your breasts. Licking and sucking at the soft mounds, adding to the marks that were left over from the night before. You weaved your fingers into his disheveled curly hair as he took your nipple in his mouth and his hand making sure the other got the same attention.
Shallow moans tumbled from your mouth as Daniel finally inserted his fingers into you. Gently pumping in and out of you. The sounds of your wet heat broke through the hazy morning air. Daniel leaned down so his mouth was hovering over the nipple Lando was playing with, he flicked out his tongue to take Lando’s pointer finger in his mouth. Releasing it with a pop and a wink before taking your abandoned bud in his mouth.
The sight alone was enough to have you writhing against the two of them as your orgasm racked over your body.
Once the shocks of your orgasm stopped, Daniel and Lando kneeled beside you and took their cocks into their own hands. Slick with precum, they began stroking themselves with the desperate need to get off. And you got the pleasure of laying back and watching the two most gorgeous men you had the privilege of being with get off to you.
Their muscles flexed with each stroke, their bottom lip tucked under their teeth, and their curls stuck to their forehead. With a groan, both men reached their peak and painted your chest with their cum. Daniel and Lando smiled down at you as their post-orgasm bliss hit.
“A perfect way to wake up,” you giggled.
Daniel and you hopped in the shower before Lando took his turn. Daniel lent Lando some clothes so he would not be seen walking the halls in last night's outfit. If you were being honest, seeing Lando in your boyfriend’s clothes was kind of hot.
As you were finishing up your morning routine Lando stuck his head in the bathroom.
“I am taking off,” he said, looking delicious in Daniel’s clothes.
You dropped the moisturizer onto the counter and turned to fully face Lando. You walked over to where he stood and pulled him into a hug, kissing him as you did so. The moment was tender and full of unspoken words. You wanted to convey every emotion and feeling into the kiss. You were going to miss him.
“Thank you,” you smiled, “have a safe flight.”
Lando smiled down at you. He kissed you one last time before he pulled away.
“Until next time.”
“Until next time,” you repeated.
As you returned to what you were doing. You heard Daniel and Lando say goodbye to one another though they will be flying to Mexico together.
After the door closed Daniel made his way into the bathroom. He sat on the counter to finish watching you.
“I cannot believe I have to go home,” you sighed.
“I know, but we will see each other soon.”
“Not soon enough.”
Daniel gathered you into his arms. The love you felt for him was overwhelming and though it was going to be tough being away from him you knew he would return to you the moment he could. You will have this perfect weekend to keep you company until you can see him again.
Part 4
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