#THE VIVI BAG | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

cherrynflowergarden · 8 months ago

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જ⁀➴ mr. supportive dad || matt sturniolo

the morning sunlight peeked through the white curtains, illuminating the toys scattered across the living room floor. matt sat cross-legged on the plush rug, letting his two-year-old, ivy play stylist as she tied his hoodie strings into what she proudly called “the perfect bow.”

“you’re gonna make me look ridiculous, darling,” matt teased, watching her tiny fingers fumble with the strings.

her big blue eyes glimmered as she giggled, completely ignoring her dad’s protests. “pretty, daddy! you’re sooo pretty!”

matt couldn’t hold back his grin. parenthood wasn’t something he’d ever pictured for himself back when he and his brothers were just three goofy kids filming youtube videos in their car. now, life was a chaotic mix of diaper changes, bedtime stories, and saturday morning cartoons—and he wouldn’t trade it for the world.

he leaned forward, grabbing his daughter gently under her arms and lifting her into the air. she squealed with delight, her curls bouncing wildly. “alright, vivi, but if uncle nick and uncle chris see this, you’re explaining why your dad’s wearing bows,” he joked, pressing a kiss to her cheek before setting her back down.

“bow good, daddy!” she insisted clapping her hands in approval.

the moment was interrupted by the sound of little feet pounding against the hardwood floor. his four-year-old son, max, came running into the room, clutching a paper plate with a peanut butter and jelly sandwich that was definitely more jelly than peanut butter.

“daddy, i made you breakfast!” his son declared proudly, holding out the plate like it was a michelin-star meal.

matt raised an eyebrow, inspecting the sandwich. it had uneven edges and visible bite marks all around the crust. “you made this all by yourself, huh?”

the little boy nodded vigorously, jelly smeared across his chin. “yup!”

matt pointed to the bite marks. “so… why does it look like someone took a big ol’ bite out of it?”

max froze for a second, then straightened up, his little chest puffing out confidently. “it’s a new design, daddy. i call it the bitey sandwich—it’s fancy.”

matt blinked, trying to keep a straight face, but a laugh bubbled out despite himself. “oh, the bitey sandwich, huh? that’s genius, buddy. you’re a regular chef.”

he beamed at his dad’s praise. “do you want me to make another one?”

matt ruffled his son’s messy hair, shaking his head. “nah, chef, this one’s perfect. a true masterpiece.”

before max could respond, the front door creaked open. matt’s wife stepped inside, arms full of grocery bags. she stopped mid-step, her gaze sweeping across the scene—matt with a lopsided bow around his neck, their daughter trying to climb onto his back, and their son wiping his sticky hands on his pants.

“i leave for twenty minutes, and this is what i come home to?” she said raising an eyebrow but smiling despite herself.

matt stood, scooping lily onto his hip. “we’re just a family of innovators,” he said with a shrug. “ivy’s starting a fashion line, and max is opening a restaurant. i’m just the supportive dad. isn’t it right kids?”

his wife rolled her eyes, setting the bags down on the kitchen counter. “okay, mr. supportive dad, maybe you can innovate your way into helping me unload these groceries?”

before matt could answer, max tugged on his sleeve. “daddy, can we play hide and seek first? please?”

matt glanced at the groceries, then at his son’s hopeful face. “alright, five minutes. but no cheating this time, max. last time you hid behind the curtains with your feet sticking out.”

max giggled, already sprinting toward the hallway to find a hiding spot, his sister hot on his tail chanting “maxie no cheating maxie no cheating maxie no cheating!”

glancing at their retreating figures with amusement, he walked over to his wife and pressed a kiss to her cheek. “you know love, we’re raising some weird kids, no?” he mummered against her cheek. “you say that like it’s a surprise,” she shot back, grinning.

“i don’t know how you do it,” she said after a moment, leaning her head on his shoulder.

matt chuckled, wrapping an arm around her. “do what?”

“be so good with them,” she replied her voice soft. “they adore you, you know.”

matt looked toward the hallway where their kids ran. “they make it easy,” he admitted. “’mean, don’t get me wrong—max’s jelly sandwiches are questionable, and vivi’s fashion sense is gonna ruin me. But at the end of the day… they’re my favorite people, along with you ofcourse.”

she smiled, snuggling closer. “makes the two of us actually.”

an; yes i named the son max after 4x wdc max verstappen what about it

taglist; @eirianna @thebasicbiatch @katamcauley @wxnyzie @lilmear-blog @vrlixlia @star-fuck-off @embonbon @idkversace @annawilk @r0nnsblog @weluvwbb @c1ydessturniolo @vintagebishx @maddie-bell @timmdmdm @happydiplomatshepherdspy-blog @crispycitrus @faith-f1 @escapentropy @florscons @carlossainzwho @luckylampzonkland @lewisroscoelove @mudryklover @rageshots @dontworryaboutit007 @chair-things @myangelbaby555 @sheesh1311 @f1lovely @silia1raf @blahbel668 @my-dinos-life-is-good @ssturniolo92 @lilly6110 @lou-larcher5 @arminluvrr @mxryxmfooty @gabri3la-sturns @bellsboops @f1-and-shiz @emely9274 @starstrucktyrantinfluencer @kayla-hearts4sturniolo @unx100to @strnlslut @sweetobservationface @sarakpalsd @mattslovergirlie @shadowthesim

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h1nanii · 3 months ago

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part 2 to pink clouds? 🤭

Pairing: Plug!Law x Fem!Reader [pt.1 here]

Your good for nothing ex? Long gone from the picture the second Law got his hands on you.

Genre: ModernAU! NSFW 18+, Smut, Soft Dom, Pillow Princess! Reader

[Warnings: Weed use, fingering p in v sex, dirty talk, mirror sex, possessiveness, infidelity themes, tattoo kink, pet names]

Porn with plot. MINORS DNI

You didn’t even want to tell them. But girls always know.

It’s not your fault your friends didn’t like the sound of him, right?

“Okay,” said Nami, one manicured brow raised as she passed you a mimosa. “So who’s got you walking funny today?”

You nearly choked on the drink. “What?!”

“Don’t play innocent,” chimed in Robin from across the brunch table, twirling her straw. “You’re glowing. Like, full-on dickmatized. The kind of glow you only get when someone rearranged your organs.”

You ducked your head, cheeks warm, biting back a smile. You tried to be cool about it. You really did.

“I’m… seeing someone.”

All three of them leaned in like bloodhounds.

“Who?”

“How long?”

“Is it that SoundCloud rapper again?”

You laughed. “No! He’s not even on social media like that.”

Before you could elaborate—or lie your way out of it—your phone buzzed. You opened the message and felt heat crawl down your spine.

Law: “Outside. Come get your leftovers.”

You looked up slowly. “…He might be here.”

The girls turned toward the window just in time to see him leaning against the hood of his car—a black hellcat, typical car for dealers. black hoodie, silver chains, blunt in one hand, the other holding a small pink bag. He looked like trouble. Good trouble.

Vivi blinked. “That’s him?”

Nami’s jaw dropped. “THE Law? Girl what the fuck? How’d you crack that?”

Robin didn’t say anything. Just whispered, “Jesus,” under her breath.

You were halfway to the door before any of them recovered.

He handed you the bag. “Left your gloss and panties at my place. Figured you’d need both.”

You turned beet red. “Why would you—”

“Your friends are watching,” he murmured, stepping closer. “Smile, Baby.”

You tried to glare. You failed.

Back inside, you slid into the booth with the bag like it wasn’t a walk of shame in high-def. The table fell silent.

Then Vivi said, “So… you’re fucking the plug?”

You sipped your mimosa. “More like being ruined by him, respectfully.”

“Girl,” Nami whispered. “Blink twice if you’re in danger.”

You didn’t blink. At all.

Causing an outburst of laughter from the girl “The dick can’t be THAT good”

Five minutes later, Law walked into the restaurant like he owned the building, slid in next to you without asking, and put a lazy hand on your thigh under the table. You almost choked on air.

“Hope I’m not interrupting,” he said, knowing damn well he was.

The girls stared. He stared back.

You just sat there, letting his fingers trace slow circles up your leg as you tried to hold a normal conversation.

“Anyway,” Robin finally said, clearing her throat, “what do you do, Law?”

He didn’t miss a beat. “Whatever she needs.”

And when you got up to go to the bathroom, he leaned over, whispered something into your ear that made your knees weak, and handed Nami your pink lipstick from his pocket.

“She left this,” he said. “Tell her to come get it from my mouth, ‘was nice meeting ya’ll.” And left so casually, The girls immediately pressing you for every single detail when you came back.

Telling them about what happened the night he came over. As well as the next morning too.

—

Your body still ached—in that good, deliciously sore way—and the inside of your thighs were sticky from the mess Law left inside you. The scent of sex and sweet weed still hung in the air, even as the sun started rising outside your window.

He hadn’t left.

You were tucked against his chest now, curled into him like a cat in the aftermath. His hoodie was wrapped around your body, way too big, drowning you in his scent. His fingers traced slow, lazy circles over your hip, lips brushing your hairline every so often.

“I ever fuck you like that again,” he murmured, “you might not survive.”

You gave a sleepy little laugh. “Maybe I don’t wanna.”

He grinned and reached over to grab something from his backpack—one of his pre-rolls in a pink-tinted wrap, specially packed.

“Special blend,” he said, lighting it with a flick of his lighter. “Call it the You Survived Me blunt.”

You blinked at him, still cuddled against his chest. “You made me a whole custom strain?”

He took a hit, exhaled slow, then passed it to you. “Damn right I did. You’re my favorite. My girl now.”

The words settled in your chest like warm honey.

Your phone buzzed from across the room, but you didn’t even move. Law glanced at it, saw the name, and rolled his eyes.

“Still texting? Shit’s embarrassing.”

He got up, still shirtless, still dripping in tattoos and arrogance, and walked over to your phone. When he came back, he tossed it onto the bed like it meant nothing.

“Blocked him for you,” he said casually. “You’re done with boys. You fuck with men now.”

His eyes catching a glimpse of your closet as the door was open, a piece of clothing on the rack catching his eye. Out of place compared to everything else in there practically ruining the portrait.

“Is that his hoodie?”

Law said it like the word his physically offended him.

You looked down at the old gray sweatshirt still shoved in the back of your closet, shoved behind all your cuter, cozier, pinker things. It smelled like dust. Like lies. Like bad decisions and fake promises.

“Yeah,” you muttered. “Didn’t even realize I still had it.”

Law walked over, plucked it off the hanger with two fingers like it was diseased, and dropped it into the cardboard box he brought from his car. He dusted off his hands after like it left something on him.

Your brows furrowed as you watched him in action “what are you doing?”

“We packin’ all this bum energy up,” he said, opening the rest of your drawers like he lived here. You didn’t stop him. “Anything he gave you? Notes, chains, cheap perfume? Gimme all that.”

You laughed, watching him toss junk into the box like a man possessed. “You’re enjoying this.”

He grinned. “Hell yeah I am. I’m reclaiming the whole fuckin’ territory.”

You let out another laugh, Feeling your eyes roll without control as he searched your room for any unfamiliar items. “There’s nothin else, just that hoodie”

“You’re kidding”

You shook your head no as he looked up at you, bent down into your drawers.

“Told you he ‘was a fuckin bum, can’t even treat a princess right” he grunted softly under his breath as he stood up

When you were done, Law taped the box shut, carried it under one arm out to the back alley behind your apartment, and dropped it dramatically in front of a metal trash bin.

Then he pulled out his lighter.

“Wait—you’re burning it?”

“Damn right I am,” he said, already flicking the flame. “We’re doing a vibe cleanse, baby. Fire. Smoke. Rituals. Whatever you wanna call it.”

You watched as he lit the hoodie on top, the flames catching fast. You half expected him to chant something.

Instead, he pulled out his phone.

“Smile.”

You blinked. “What?”

Click. He took a picture of you in his hoodie, hair messy, eyes glowing, the fire crackling in the background.

Click. Another one—this time, your back to the fire, his hand gripping your ass through your sweats.

“Why are you—”

He sent one of them directly to your ex’s number before deleting it from your contact list entirely.

“We burned your shit. She’s mine now. Don’t even dream about coming back.”

You gasped. “You’re evil.”

He turned to you, pulling you close, lifting your chin with two fingers.

“Nah, baby,” he said softly. “I’m yours. And you’re mine. I’m just making it clear.”

His lips met yours—rough and sweet at the same time, like he couldn’t decide whether to ruin you or worship you.

You pulled back just enough to whisper, “You gonna reclaim me again tonight?”

He smiled, slow and dangerous. “Nah. I’ma own you tonight. Whole different game.”

And with the fire still crackling behind you, Law picked you up like you weighed nothing, carried you back inside, and made good on every word.

—

And now back to your friends who were excitingly smacking your arm.

“Damn girlll you got him whipped, he got a friend?” Nami hummed before getting lightly smacked by Robin. “Chill out, plus she totally got me, right girl?”

“Wait, if ya’ll fucked at your place what did he mean you left your—“ Vivi chimed in, making all three of them again pressing you red handed.

Oh dear

“Well… he kinda—“ your voice cracked, feeling caught in the act.

“Girl what the fuck…spill”

You then went on telling them about the other night. More-so specifically, last night.

—

It was supposed to be a chill night. Just the two of you, sprawled out in Law’s place—bass-heavy music vibrating through the walls, weed smoke curling lazy in the air. You wore nothing but one of his tees, stretched over your bare thighs. Already gone through two rounds just a bit earlier. He hadn’t stopped staring.

“You know they’re still talking, right?” he said, from behind the blunt.

You blinked. “Who?”

He tilted his head. “Your ex. His friends. Everyone we made mad.”

You rolled your eyes. “Let them talk.”

He passed you the blunt, then pulled you into his lap without asking. His chain was cold against your skin. His hand slid up under your shirt, tracing slow circles on your inner thigh.

“That’s not enough for me anymore,” he muttered against your neck.

“What do you mean?”

He looked up, eyes glowing under the purple LED lights.

“I mean I want people to know,” he said. “Not just guess. Not just assume because I’m posted outside your place twice a week.”

You swallowed. “So… what, like together together?”

He leaned in, nose brushing yours. “Yeah. You. Me. Fully locked in.”

You didn’t hesitate. “Then ask me.”

He smirked. “Alright.”

One hand slid down, fingers grazing over your pussy. The other tilted your chin.

“Be mine,” he said, like a promise. “Officially.”

“Yes,” you whispered, already breathless. “Please.”

His fingers slipped inside you, slow and deep, mouth crashing into yours like he couldn’t wait another second. You rocked against him, whimpering into the kiss, needing more. All of him.

But then he pulled back.

“I wanna do this right.”

You blinked. “Right?”

He stood, scooping you up in his arms like nothing, and carried you to the mirror across the room. Set you down in front of it. You watched your reflection as he knelt behind you—his hoodie draped off one shoulder, his fingers gripping your hips.

“You see this?” he said, tugging his shirt up your thighs, revealing the bare mess left behind from your past encounter. “This pussy? That’s mine now. No back and forth. No maybes. Just mine.”

He slid his fingers into you slowly, watching the way your eyes fluttered in the mirror, the way your lips parted on a moan. His hand gently reaching to grasp your neck up from behind, forcing you to look at your reflection.

“You see that? See at the way I make you feel good mama?” His voice came out deep, mixed with lust & devotion.

“Yes—fuck—!” Your voice came out in a soft cry, as if he’d stop there.

And when he fucked you, it wasn’t rough like before. It was deep. Intentional. Making sure his dick hit that right spot with every movement, slow & deliberate. It didn’t matter to him that he’d much rather quicken the pace.

The faces you made confirmed it was worth it. His forehead pressed to your back. His hand clutching yours on the glass as he kept you like that for what seemed to be an hour.

“This is me claiming you,” he whispered. “Not for the night. For good.”

—

“Seriously, does he have a friend or not?”

[Part three here]

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mxstellatayte · 11 months ago

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pretty please: chapter one.

pretty please masterlist.

chapter one warnings: lewis lowkey being a sugar daddy, (sex spoilers after this,) legal use of alcohol, consensual sex!!!, lewis is really good at dirty talking lol, lewis has a big dick haha, oral sex (m and f receiving,) multiple orgasms (f receiving,) belly bulge, praise (m and f receiving,) lewis hamilton aftercare king

chapter one word count: 5.3k (3k words of porn tho don't worry)

taglist: @pear-1206 @vivi-81 @irishmanwhore

join my taglist here!

you made me an offer i can't refuse

thursday, 23 may, 2019

you push out a shaky breath, smoothing out the invisible wrinkles in your outfit one last time before stepping out of your hotel room. today is the day you've been both dreading and looking forward to for the past two weeks- the day you interview the one and only lewis hamilton at the monaco grand prix media day.

when you'd been offered the opportunity for a one-on-one interview with one of the most iconic faces in both the fashion and motorsports world, you thought you were dreaming. turns out that the journalist who had originally been assigned to the project had a family emergency and needed time off of work, so the chance to lead the project was yours and yours alone. of course, once you realized that you were not dreaming, you accepted. despite your preparation, you're still terrified. you have ten questions at the ready in your small notebook that you've read over and attempted to memorize approximately twelve times each hour for the past three days, but the practice does nothing to soothe your anxiety.

"fuck it," you say to yourself, inspecting your makeup one last time before slipping your feet into your signature shoes- platform high top converse. once on the streets of monaco, you hail a cab to take you to the circuit, your black and purple media badge secure in your purse. your stomach is twisting with anxiety the whole way there, and when you pay the driver and step out of the cab, it only increases tenfold.

you're about to interview lewis hamilton. no big deal.

yeah.

not a big deal at all.

the next hour and a half is a whirlwind of meeting with lewis' manager to getting your questions checked over to getting a tour of the media center to seeing the recording booth where you're going to be interviewing the driver. it's a nice room, but it's separate from the rest of the media areas, so you assume it's likely not normally for recording podcasts.

"how long do i have before the interview?" you ask, turning to lewis' pr manager.

"about twenty minutes, but lewis is going to be here in ten for soundcheck. make yourself comfortable for now, can i get you anything? water, tea, coffee?"

"a cup of tea would be lovely, thank you." you smile and nod, sitting down inside the booth on the plush couch. in a feeble attempt to quell your nerves, you take your mini notebook out of your bag and go over the questions for the umpteenth time today, but the words on the page blur together as you try to squish down the stirring in your stomach.

"here's the tea for you," someone says, and you're expecting it to be the manager you'd spoken to, but when you look up, you're met with an unfairly beautiful face. oh. okay. this is happening. you're casually accepting a cup of tea from five-time world champion lewis hamilton. the man you're about to interview.

no big deal.

the interview goes by without any hiccups, and, before you know it, your hour in the booth is up, and you say your on-camera goodbyes before they stop recording. as you're about to leave, though, lewis gently touches your upper arm and asks to speak to you for a moment-

only if you don't have something to rush to, of course- and your heart leaps into your throat. had you said something wrong or hit a sensitive nerve with one of your questions?

"i want to thank you. not a lot of reporters are able to ask questions beyond the simple 'how do you plan on winning this weekend' and 'what changes are you going to make based on mistakes made at the previous race,' so i applaud you. your questions were really different from what i was expecting, and your interview style is really unique. i enjoyed talking to you." he extends his hand and you shake it firmly, your chest feeling like it might just explode with pride.

"thank you, mr. hamilton. i'm incredibly grateful for the opportunity to speak with you, and i'm looking forward to any i may have in the future." the driver beams, and you can't help but notice the way his eyes crinkle at the corners. it's annoyingly pretty.

"i won't have any of this 'mr. hamilton' nonsense. call me lewis. after talking to you for an hour, i can tell that you're very knowledgeable when it comes to both motor sports and fashion, which is really impressive. and i look forward to speaking with you in the future, too." the two of you chat for a few more minutes before he's summoned once more, and you bid your goodbyes.

a few minutes later, as you're trying to calm down your heart rate so that you can maintain some small semblance of composure before returning to the outside world, one of your long-time friends from college approaches you from behind, and, in her standard fashion, scares the shit out of you.

"boo."

you shriek, your previous efforts to stabilize your heart rate now entirely in vain. "christ, amelia! do you have to sneak up on me everywhere?"

"absolutely. i also have something to tell you something." your eyebrows furrow as she almost instantly moves on from the fact that she nearly scared you half to death mere seconds ago, but you almost fully pass away by choking on your saliva two seconds later. "you've got it really down bad for him, and you're not subtle about it. at all."

after you're done recovering from yet another near-death experience, you punch her left arm. hard. "you are so lucky i don't have a weapon right now." amelia laughs, her head thrown back and her shoulders bouncing with delight.

"awe, come on." she smiles at you, her eyes glittering in their signature way, signaling that she's about to drag you into a potentially messy and new situation. "you know that the rules state very clearly that there's a zero-tolerance policy for physical or verbal harassment."

i got it bad for you, so baby

thursday, 28 november, 2019.

it's your third time interviewing lewis in the 2019 season, and since you first spoke to him at the monaco grand prix, things have changed for both of you. following the success of your interview with him at the monaco grand prix and the article you wrote to go along with it, you'd been promoted from your previous position as fashion field journalist to the lofty title of fashion and sports researcher and journalist. as soon as lewis hears the news, he's sure to congratulate you, this time at one of the biggest spectacles in motorsports: the abu dhabi grand prix. you can't help but beam with pride when he mentions your new title, thanking him again for his time, and remembering to call him by his first name despite how strange it feels.

"i should be congratulating you on something, as well, six-time world champion," you grin, happy as your friendly banter with lewis seems to fall into place. your first time meeting him, you were so terrified of saying something wrong that you didn't let yourself really let go and show your personality. the second time, in mexico, you were able to relax a little bit more and even crack a few jokes. today, you're all smiles and even got breakfast with him before the scheduled meeting time. one anxiety you'd voiced was that the same paparazzi that you've worked with in the past don't take photos of you with the driver and sell them to the media, which would undoubtedly start a pr disaster for both of you.

"if you'd rather have breakfast in the paddock, i can have that set up," he'd offered, and, once again, who would you be to decline such a kind offer?

so here you find yourself, enjoying an expertly brewed italian iced coffee and two perfectly crumbly strawberry scones, sitting across from the reigning world champion of motorsport.

you know, standard thursdays.

"one thing i don't think i've mentioned before," lewis begins, setting down his cup of tea, "is how much i admire that you try to find the human behind the driver."

your eyebrows furrow. "i don't think i follow."

"i now realize my wording is really weird. let me fix that." you laugh, taking another bite of your scone. "you don't exclusively ask questions about driving. you dig into our hobbies and interests outside of the paddock. in my experience, the way you balance questions for both motorsports and fashion is fascinating."

"it's all part of the job. i wouldn't be where i am without interesting questions, would i?" lewis smiles, shaking his head.

"i doubt it, but you are pretty damn smart. i bet you'd find a way to make it here one way or another."

"i'm flattered."

the conversation continues easily as the two of you finish your breakfast, then, as you begin to prepare yourself to stand and leave, he stops you. "actually, there's one last thing i wanted to do before we went on camera."

your head tilts in confusion as you set your signature lipstick back in your bag, a deep red balm that you've used since you started working at vogue. it's become your trademark product, and almost everyone in the office knows exactly which one you use. "do i need to be worried, lewis?"

"no, not at all! it's this," he says, and your eyebrows rise in complete and utter shock when he pulls out a small box wrapped in white paper and a crimson bow wrapped around it all. "i wanted to get you a gift as a way of saying thank you for all the curveball questions you've thrown at me this year." your hands shake as you take the box from him, and you already know exactly which brand it is. cartier. sure, you've written pieces about their timeless looks and elegant aesthetics, and owning a piece of their jewelry has always been a dream of yours, but it's always been just that: a dream.

"lewis, i can't accept this. i- i'm honestly at a loss for words. seriously, no." you can't help but flush at how he's looking at you, those annoyingly beautiful eyes of his and the stupidly perfect crow's feet that only show up when he really smiles- when he smiles the way he is now. gods, amelia was right. you really are down bad for the driver.

"please, just open it up. if you don't like it, i'll take it back and you can choose something you prefer." he nudges the box towards you once more, and the crisp wax seal that sits on top of the paper is incredibly enticing.

"are you serious?" a part of you wants to think that this is some sick joke, that there's cameras on you and it's all going up on one of those prank channels on youtube. a much, much bigger part of you believes lewis, though. that is the part of you that takes the box between your shaking hands, carefully pops open the wax seal, nimbly unties the beautiful ribbon, and gently unfolds the pure white paper. when you finally open the box, you gasp, tears threatening to well in your eyes. "lewis..."

"do you like it?" his voice sounds anxious and hopeful, and you can't help but realize how much thought he'd put into this gift. when you'd invited him into your office to review some photos that were to go into an article in the next vogue issue a few months prior, he'd seen the vision board on your wall and asked about it. bashfully, you had explained to him that it was a silly idea you had when you graduated from uni with your friends- each of you made one, cutting and pasting photos from pinterest, magazines, newspapers, and anything you could find, assembling your dreams in a mishmash of colors and ideas. one of your dreams on the board had been to own this exact necklace- the cartier juste un clou necklace in white gold. the fourteen diamonds set in the precious metal glitter back at you, and you can't help but smile.

"i love it, lewis. thank you so much." he visibly relaxes, his shoulders loosening and the crease between his eyebrows disappearing.

"i'm glad. here, turn around. let me put it on you?" you happily oblige, lifting your hair out of the way after you stand so that he can fasten the delicate clasp over your spine.

it's safe to say that both his and your fans noticed the necklace hanging between your collarbones, sitting just below the star necklace you wear daily on top of your dark grey high-collared shirt. you try your best not to look at the comments on the videos of your interviews, but amelia had shown you one that day after the unedited interview went up online.

"are they dating or something? i can't get over how lewis looks at her."

sunday, 1 december, 2019

after the race, lewis crossing the line not only in p1, more than 16 seconds ahead of the rest of the grid, but with the fastest lap, as well, you're sure to congratulate him on your social media accounts and in person in the pit lane. "lewis!" his head turns at the sound of your voice, and he sees you moving as quickly as you can down the pit lane, neon green paddock pass hanging from your neck alongside the black and purple media pass. your signature converse and light wash jeans complete your outfit, and his heart swells with joy when he sees that you're still wearing the necklace he gave you.

"hey! i'm glad they let you down here after the race. i was a bit worried i'd have to wring a security guard's neck to get you down here."

"aw, you'd do that for little old me?"

"i'd do just about anything for the most interesting reporter in the paddock," he replies, ever so cocky and so annoyingly pretty. seriously, was he a saint or something in his past life? it feels painfully unfair that he was blessed with such perfect looks and charm. it makes your stomach twist with a flirty giddiness you haven't felt since you were a teenager. it's exciting. "are you coming to the after party?"

"i don't know if i'll be able to. i have a lot to do in the next few days and i honestly don't know if i'm going to be able to take a break on the plane back to london. i'll probably be sitting in my seat going over notes and writing up an article or answering an obscene amount of emails."

"please? just one night? i'll buy your drinks." he bats his eyes at you, and it really shouldn't make you fold as easily as it does, but here you are, sitting in his mercedes and driving to a probably very heinously overpriced club.

a girl needs to be a passenger princess every now and then, right?

when you arrive at the club, you have to force your lips to stay closed so that your jaw doesn't drop in shock and awe. paparazzi swarm you as soon as you step out of the car and lewis hands the keys to the valet, and for a moment, you're convinced this is some sort of sick and twisted fever dream as microphones are shoved in your direction and cameras flash quickly enough to make you glad you don't have photosensitive epilepsy. when lewis' hand rests on the small of your back and he smiles brightly at you, though, you're reassured that this is very much real.

"after you." you smile back at him, your own anxiety lessening just a tiny bit now that you know that he's right there by you.

pretty please, come on over and ruin my life

how did you end up here?

you'll blame it on the alcohol.

either way, lewis' lips feel amazing on yours, and you waddle slightly as he backs you up to the bed in his extravagant hotel room. "need this off," he mutters, hands searching under your shirt and gripping at your waist. your brain is a foggy mess of lust, alcohol, and a lot more lust, and as quickly as you can, you pull back from the kiss (much to lewis' dismay,) tug your shirt out of your waistband and yank it over your head, tossing it somewhere to your right. almost immediately, strong arms wrap back around your torso and you're caged in, and every single one of your senses is flooded with lewis, lewis, lewis. his skin is hot underneath where your hands lay, your right on his cheek and your left clutching the side of his neck as if letting go would result in falling off the face of the earth.

his kisses are messy, desperate, and wet. his tongue glides along your own and you moan wantonly, the noise only further spurring on his efforts. as you lay back against the bed, lewis kisses his way down your chest (when did your bra come off?), lavishing each of your breasts with his tongue and hands. one hand works over your flesh, kneading and pinching while his tongue licks over your right nipple, gently biting and sucking and smirking when you moan once again, switching to the other side. "lewis, oh my god-" you interrupt yourself with an embarrassingly loud whine, your back arching as deft fingers pop open the button on your jeans, unzip the fly, and slip into your panties.

"fuck, darling, so wet for me already," lewis groans, his head buried into your neck as he bites gently at the sensitive skin there. "i'm gonna have to get a taste before i fuck you."

"yes, oh my god, please," you whine, the mere thought of the driver between your thighs making another rush of butterflies flood your lower tummy. you almost laugh when you realize that you still have your converse on and he's struggling with the laces, so you lift yourself up off of the bed and shoo his hands away, instead expertly undoing the white laces in less than ten seconds and kicking them off your feet, leaning back onto your elbows as they hit the ground with a muffled thump. "you are way too overdressed."

sure, you've seen photos of lewis shirtless before, but it doesn't compare to seeing it in person and up close, and...

fuck.

he's beautiful.

"that's not fair."

"what?" lewis laughs, crawling back over you after you both pull your pants off and toss them to the side, and your breath briefly catches in your throat as the scent of his cologne overwhelms your senses.

"you aren't allowed to be nice and hot. it doesn't work like that." lewis laughs, leaning down to press another kiss to your lips that intoxicates you more than any of the high proof alcohols you've drank in the past few hours.

"well, i guess i'm a rule breaker, then." he shuffles you up the bed so that your head rests on the plush pillows, sighing in relief when you think he's finally going to fuck you, but you gasp when he slides his way back down to your thighs, pulls them apart with his hands, and settles between them. "fuck."

"lewis, please. need you."

"what do you need, baby?" he teases as his hands begin stroking up and down your thighs. you're about to respond, but you cut yourself off with a cry when his fingers gently stroke up your panty-covered slit, the sensitivity making your back arch and your hands grip the sheets tightly.

"fucking hell, i... i need you to eat me out."

"i thought you'd never ask." his fingers tug at the waistband of your panties and you lift your hips slightly, just enough for him to slide them off of your legs and add them to the growing pile of clothing on the floor. without wasting a second, he dives into your cunt, tongue dragging along your slit from your entrance all the way up to your clit, and you both moan in unison. his hands grab at the meat of your ass, pulling your hips closer to his face, and you yelp, but it's quickly cut off with another moan as lewis' tongue prods at your entrance, hot and insistent.

"mmgh, lewis, fuck, so good." you barely have any control over your own mouth as lewis eats you out, his tongue expertly lapping up every part of your cunt as if it's the best meal he's ever tasted. he quickly figures out what makes you twitch and moan and focuses on that, his nose bumping against your clit as his jaw hinges open and he swallows you whole. his hands tightly grip your ass, the pads of his fingers digging into the skin and definitely leaving some form of marks to appear later in the night, but that's the least of your concerns when you have the world champion of motorsport between your legs. the moans that tumble past your lips echo off of the bare walls of the lavish hotel room, but not a single noise you make is embellished in the slightest- he's just making you feel that good. the coil in your tummy builds and builds, but your brain has been reduced to mush from pleasure, so you have to resort to scrabbling your hands at whatever you can grab, your fingers ultimately tugging at his neat braids. lewis thankfully gets the hint and only increases his efforts, his left hand moving from your ass to gently push two fingers into your entrance, and, when he curls them upwards, perfectly hitting your g-spot, you nearly sob, your orgasm hitting you a lot sooner than you had anticipated. "oh, lewis, don't stop, please. feels so good, baby, fuck."

lewis helps you ride out the aftershocks of your orgasm, pulling his fingers out of you and pressing a tender kiss to your hipbone before climbing back up to you and connecting your lips in yet another messy kiss, and you groan when you can taste your cum on his tongue. when lewis' boxer-covered erection grinds against your sensitive clit, your mouth falls open in a gasp, letting him take the opportunity to slide his tongue into your mouth and run against yours. when you kiss him, it feels like you've stepped through the gates of heaven and you're kissing an angel. you suck greedily on lewis' tongue and he moans in response, making you smile into the kiss.

lewis pulls back momentarily and you pout, but the sight before you is absolutely beautiful. his skin glows with a thin sheen of sweat and his lips and chin are covered in a mix of your cum and spit. it's gorgeous. "are you okay with this?"

"more than okay," you grin, leaning up to peck his lips quickly. "it's fantastic."

"in that case, i'd love to fuck you properly..." at his words and the feeling of his lips ghosting down the side of your neck, pressing feather-light kisses along the sensitive skin, you shiver, your hands coming to rest on the sides of his torso. "if you'll have me, of course."

"please do." with another smile, lewis pushes himself up and off the bed, returning promptly with a condom in his hand. you bite your lip and watch eagerly as he pulls down his boxers, and...

fuck.

you're fucked.

"seriously, lewis? are you kidding?" your head falls back with an exasperated laugh, your shoulders shaking as you realize: of course he's big. if he's nice and attractive, then it's almost a guarantee that he's going to have a big dick. "you really just have it all, don't you?" the mattress dips, and you raise your head again, looking back at him as he crawls towards you, almost catlike in his motions.

"i could say the same for you. beautiful, kind, intelligent, an absolutely killer ass..." you scoff and roll your eyes, trying to come up with a cocky response, but your brain short circuits when you feel lewis begin to push the head of his cock into you. "oh, fuck."

"lewis, oh my god," you keen, your hands reaching up and finding purchase on his broad shoulders for stability. his left hand holds your waist while his right grips at your hip, the tightness of his hold almost painful... almost.

"baby, you're so tight. taking me so well. 's like you were made for me." you're pretty sure the words spilling from lewis' mouth are just mindless, sex-brain-induced babbles, but either way, it makes your pussy throb around him, and you both groan in pleasure when his hips finally meet yours. he looks down at you and almost chokes- you look absolutely stunning. your eyes are screwed shut, your lips parted as breathy moans sneak their way past them, and your hair is splayed around your head like a halo.

when you finally manage to pry your eyes open and steady your breathing, lewis is gazing down at you, and you can't help but pull him down for yet another kiss. how many times have you kissed him tonight?

not enough, you decide.

between soft and slow kisses, you breathe out the words that lewis has been praying you'll say: "you can move, lew." when he does, slowly pulling out most of the way before pushing back in, the drag of his cock against your walls makes you shudder, your nails digging into his shoulders and undoubtedly leaving crescent-moon shaped divots in the skin. "oh... oh, fuck, baby."

"you like that, baby? you like having my cock inside of you?"

all you can muster in response is a meek "mhmm," but that isn't enough for him. he grabs your face, forcing you to look at him, and halts his steady thrusts, making you whine.

"use your words. i know you can- you showed me this morning."

"yes!" you sob. "yes, i love feeling you fill me up. i love it, lewis. it feels so good. feels perfect."

"there you go. i knew you could do it." his words make you moan even louder as he resumes his thrusts, this time at a much faster pace. "fuck, look at that. taking me so well... i can even see it. gimme your hand, baby. feel it yourself." he places your left hand low on your stomach, just between your hipbones, and... oh.

oh.

you can feel his dick filling you up under your hand.

"lewis, oh my god!" your moans only increase in volume with his own when he presses down onto the bulge in your tummy with his hand, changing how deeply you feel him, and it sends you hurtling towards your second orgasm of the night embarrassingly fast. "fuck, fuck, lewis, don't stop. feels so good, baby, just like that, yes!" your own hand sneaks around his wrist and rubs circles around your clit, which makes you clench around him, which in turn throws you into your orgasm. "lewis, 'm cumming, 'm cumming, ah!"

"just like that, baby, cum for me. so perfect. so, so perfect." lewis talks and fucks you through your orgasm, his own fingers taking over when yours falter on your clit. when the end of your orgasm trails off, you try to catch your breath, but when your post-orgasmic clarity dawns on you, you realize that lewis didn't cum.

"oh, fuck, lewis... let me suck you off. you didn't cum."

"are you sure? i'm-" he cuts himself off with a grunt, his hips stuttering as he slows his thrusts so as to not hurt you in your oversensitive state, but when you nod, your bottom lip pinched seductively between your teeth, he gives in. "alright, yeah. yeah." he pulls out of you and you roll over, shuffling your way down the bed until you're settled between his legs, your arms resting on his upper thighs.

"you're so pretty, lewis. so, so pretty." if it was a bit brighter in the room, you would've seen the way lewis' mouth ticks open and his dick twitches at your praise, but the singular bedside lamp is barely enough to light the room. instead of noticing, you gently peel the condom off of his cock and toss it in the trash can underneath the bedside table, then settle back between lewis' legs and let a fat drop of saliva leak onto his cock.

"fuck, if you keep saying things like that i'm not gonna last long," lewis groans, his head thrown back into the pillows.

"oh, you don't want to hear me call you pretty? you don't want me to say that you're one of the most beautiful people i've ever laid eyes on, and that i've waited months to be here just to tell you that?" your hand begins lazily stroking his hard cock as you continue rambling shamelessly, your mind a sex-addled haze that you have nearly no control over. after watching in awe as a pearly bead of precum swells at the head of lewis' cock, you decide that enough is enough and that you have to taste him. your tongue falls out of your mouth, the flat of it brushing up the bottom of his dick until you reach the tip, and then you secure your lips around it, and fuck, if having the taste of lewis' cum on your tongue isn't enough to make your eyes flutter shut for a moment, you don't know what is.

lewis' hand finds itself in your hair, pulling gently as you begin to bob your head along the length of his dick, and you can't help but feel pride bloom in your chest when his hips begin bucking up to meet your mouth and hand, shoving the tip so far back you swear the back of your throat might be slightly bruised in the morning. you moan shamelessly as he does so, letting him fuck your mouth as he pleases until he cums, warm ropes of sticky fluid filling your mouth as he spills into you. pulling off, you swallow part of his load and clean what little remains off of his softening cock with gentle kitten licks, smiling faintly as he whimpers quietly at the oversensitivity. after crawling up to the head of the bed and pressing a gentle kiss to his lips, lewis' eyes search yours before dipping down to your mouth. you're a bit confused as his left hand comes up to your face, thinking he's going to kiss you again, but instead, his thumb swipes against the corner of your mouth and pries past your lips, a silent order that you obey willingly. you'd missed one tiny drop of his cum on your cheek. his thumb pops out of your mouth momentarily and you collapse down next to him, the exhaustion of the jam-packed day finally catching up to you.

"i'm gonna go grab a towel to clean you up, yeah?" you nod sleepily, a quiet hum escaping your body. "you're staying here tonight. i won't stand for letting you out of my bed for the next twelve hours." this time, if a question mark could be a sound, that's the noise you make. lewis understands you, though. "we'll take my jet. don't worry about your fight." another content sound from you.

by the time lewis returns to the bed, warm damp washcloth in hand, you're asleep, and he can't help but tuck the strands of hair out of your face after he cleans up your swollen cunt and tucks you into the soft bedding, joining you shortly thereafter.

yeah.

he's fucked.

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