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pedroscowgirl · 11 months ago

Text

A Younger Revelation

Hugh jackman x female!reader

Part 2

Warnings: smut! Minors, DNI!!

Age gap (reader is their (mid) 20s), p in v, creampie (wrap it up), choking, hugh is posessive (?) , daddy issues (i can't help it) and squirting

lmk if i missed some!

Words: 4.5k

A/N: I saw a few ppl say that hugh (and his son) are into older women and i just had to write something about it cuz i want to be his controversial younger gf i hope you like it!

You and Hugh had been friends for over three years, ever since you starred in a movie together. The on-screen chemistry was profound, and off-screen, it quickly turned into a deep, genuine friendship. But as time passed, you began to notice a shift in your feelings. It wasn't just admiration for his talent or his kind-hearted nature, it was something far more intense. You had always been drawn to older men, a fascination born from perhaps, some unresolved issues with your father. It was a part of yourself you had come to understand, but with Hugh, it became an irresistible pull.

The age difference was glaring. Hugh was closer to your parents' age, even older than your dad. The thought of being attracted to him felt wrong, almost taboo, like a secret you shouldn't entertain. Yet, the more you were around him, the more you craved his presence, his voice, the comforting maturity he exuded. The way he moved, the timbre of his laughter, and the warmth in his eyes, it all made you want him even more. It didn't help that you had come across interviews and internet whispers, and even a hint from his ex-wife, all pointing to his preference for older women. It stung, knowing that you probably weren't his type, but it didn't stop the fantasies from consuming you.

One evening, the two of you sat on the terrace of his apartment, sipping wine under the silver glow of the moon. The city lights twinkled in the distance, but the world felt confined to the small space you shared. It was a beautiful, quiet night, and the air was thick with unspoken words. You had always enjoyed these moments with Hugh, comfortable, intimate, and filled with a sense of ease that belied the complexity of your feelings. But tonight, the tension felt different, more visible. The usual comfort was tinged with a sharp undercurrent of desire.

Taking a deep breath, you decided to break the silence. "You know," you began, your voice soft and deliberate, "we have something in common." Hugh glanced at you, curiosity sparking in his eyes. "We're both attracted to older people."

He paused, his glass halfway to his lips, caught off guard. You saw the confusion in his eyes as he processed your words. "You're attracted to older women," you continued, watching as his expression shifted. He swallowed hard, his Adam's apple bobbing. The tension in the air thickened, and you felt a heady rush of adrenaline. "And I'm attracted to older men."

Hugh choked on his wine, coughing slightly as he set his glass down. The look of surprise on his face was priceless, but you pressed on, feeling bolder with every word. "Have you ever tried a younger woman?" you asked, your voice dropping to a sultry, almost teasing tone. You leaned in closer, your breath ghosting over his skin. "Don't you ever crave it? The energy, the freshness... the excitement?"

He looked at you, a mix of shock and intrigue in his eyes. There was a visible shift in the atmosphere, the air charged with a new kind of tension. Hugh's gaze darkened, his eyes roaming over your face, then down your body, as if seeing you in a new light. He swallowed again, visibly trying to maintain his composure. "Sweetheart," he began, his voice low and rough, "I'm too old for you."

You tilted your head, a sly smile playing on your lips. "But you know what it's like to be into that," you said, leaning in so close that your lips nearly brushed his. The proximity sent a shiver down your spine, the anticipation building to a fever pitch. "Maybe you could try something different, something... younger."

Before you could second-guess yourself, Hugh's hands were on you, pulling you onto his lap with a smooth, assertive motion. The sudden intimacy made your heart race, your breath catching in your throat. You could feel the heat of his body against yours, the firmness of his chest beneath your hands. His grip on your hips was possessive, his fingers digging in just enough to send a thrill through you. The reality of the situation hit you—this was happening.

Hugh looked up at you, his eyes intense and filled with a mix of desire and conflict. "I mean," he murmured, his voice barely more than a whisper, "we can try something, and I'll get back to you on that." His words were laced with a sensual promise, an unspoken agreement that sent a rush of heat through your veins.

You felt the weight of the moment, the gravity of what you were about to do. The world outside seemed to fade away, leaving just the two of you in this intimate bubble. Your hands found their way to his shoulders, your fingers tracing the lines of his muscles. You could feel the slight tremor in his hands, a testament to the struggle between his self-control and the desire simmering beneath the surface.

Leaning in, you whispered against his lips, "Let's see where this goes." The tension was unbearable, the air thick with anticipation. And then, finally, his lips met yours. The kiss was slow and exploratory at first, a tentative test of boundaries. But it quickly deepened, becoming more urgent, more passionate. His hands roamed over your back, pulling you closer, as if he couldn't get enough of you. The world outside ceased to exist. There was only the sensation of his lips, the taste of wine, and the electric connection that sparked between you.

In that moment, everything else faded away. The doubts, the fears, the societal norms—they all melted into the background. All that mattered was the way he made you feel, the way your body responded to his touch, and the intoxicating promise of what was to come.

As you broke the kiss, a delicious tension lingered in the air, thick with the promise of more. Sitting on Hugh's lap, you felt the heat of his body radiate through his clothes and into your skin. His hands, strong and sure, moved from your hips to your ass, squeezing gently. The intimate touch made your breath hitch, and your eyes locked with his, the burning gaze between you sparking an electric connection.

"I'll admit, you're a good kisser," he whispered, his voice low and dripping with that irresistible Australian accent. The words sent a shiver down your spine, and you couldn't help but bite your lip, savouring the compliment. "You're not so bad yourself," you replied, a playful smile tugging at your lips. He chuckled softly, his eyes briefly dropping to your chest, where the rise and fall of your breath betrayed your growing anticipation.

Hugh's hand slowly slid from your ass up to your shoulder, the touch sending a trail of warmth in its wake. With a deliberate slowness, he hooked a finger under the thin strap of your tank top, pulling it down with a teasing grin. The fabric slipped off your shoulder, revealing more of your skin, and you felt the cool night air against your bare breast, sending a jolt of awareness through you. You weren't wearing a bra, and the sudden exposure made you feel both vulnerable and excited.

His eyes widened slightly, a flicker of awe crossing his face as he took in the sight of you. "Beautiful," he murmured, almost to himself, before he leaned in closer. His other hand joined in, deftly removing your top entirely. As the fabric fell away, leaving you bare from the waist up, you felt a delicious thrill of exposure, the night air cool against your skin. Hugh's gaze was hot and heavy, his admiration evident as he took in the sight of your nakedness. You could see the desire in his eyes, mirrored by the lust in your own.

Feeling his intensity, you felt a flush spread across your cheeks, your breathing growing shallow. There was something incredibly erotic about the way he looked at you, fully clothed in his short-sleeved shirt that highlighted his toned arms and muscular biceps. The contrast made you feel even more exposed, more vulnerable, and yet, it was thrilling. Before you could say anything, he leaned in, his lips capturing your nipple. The sensation sent a shockwave of pleasure through your body, making you gasp.

Your hands instinctively reached for his hair, fingers tangling in the soft strands as his mouth worked its magic. He alternated between soft licks and gentle bites, each touch sending ripples of pleasure coursing through you. Your hips began to move on their own, grinding against him as you sought more friction, more connection. You could feel the hardness of his arousal pressing against you through the fabric of his pants, and the knowledge of his desire only heightened your own.

As his mouth continued its sweet torment on your sensitive skin, your body responded eagerly. Every flick of his tongue, every nip of his teeth, sent sparks of pleasure straight to your core. You arched into him, wanting more, needing more. The feel of his warm, wet mouth on your nipple was intoxicating, and you couldn't help the soft moans that escaped your lips.

Hugh's free hand roamed up and down your back, caressing and holding you close as if grounding himself in the reality of this moment. The feeling of his hands on you, the weight of his body beneath you, and the heat of his mouth all combined to create an intoxicating mix of sensations. You felt powerful and utterly desired, lost in the pleasure of the moment and the knowledge that this man, who had seemed untouchable, was now very much within your grasp.

As you continued to grind against him, the friction and heat built up between you, each movement sending a wave of pleasure through your body. Hugh's breathing grew ragged, his grip on you tightening as he responded to your movements. His mouth left your nipple, trailing kisses up to your neck, where he nibbled softly, drawing another gasp from you.

You felt like you were on fire, every nerve ending alight with desire. The air was thick with the scent of wine and the heady musk of arousal, and you knew there was no turning back. The night had taken a turn into the forbidden, and you were more than willing to explore this uncharted territory with him.

As Hugh's lips lavished warm kisses on your breast, each touch sending electric jolts through your body, you felt an irresistible urge to feel more of him, to uncover the mystery beneath his shirt. Your fingers moved with a mind of their own, sliding up his torso and curling into the fabric, giving a gentle tug. It was a subtle yet unmistakable sign for him to undress. He paused, pulling back just enough to lock eyes with you, a playful grin spreading across his face. His hands moved to the hem of his shirt, peeling it off with an effortless grace that left you breathless.

As the shirt fell away, revealing the sculpted lines of his chest and the ripple of muscles beneath his skin, your eyes widened in astonishment. You couldn't help but let out a soft, appreciative gasp. "You have an amazing build for your age," you murmured, your voice tinged with genuine admiration and a hint of awe.

Hugh's smile widened, a glint of satisfaction in his eyes. "You know what else is great for my age? My stamina," he replied, his tone dripping with confidence and a hint of mischief. The promise in his words sent a delicious shiver down your spine. You bit your lip, the anticipation making your pulse race. "Let's test that out," you challenged, your voice barely above a whisper but full of bold intent.

Without a moment's hesitation, Hugh's hands found your waist. With an effortless strength that took your breath away, he lifted you and set you down on the cold surface of the terrace table. The sudden contrast of the cool marble against your warm skin made you jolt, a soft gasp escaping your lips. It was a shock that only heightened the pleasure coursing through you.

His hands worked at the buttons of your pants, sliding them down your legs and casting them aside. You felt exposed, vulnerable, yet undeniably excited. The night air kissed your skin, adding to the thrill of the moment. Hugh's eyes roamed over you with a hunger that made your heart pound. As his fingers trailed down your thighs and found their way to your wetness, a smirk tugged at his lips.

"Aren't you a little embarrassed?" he teased, his voice a low, seductive purr. "To be this wet for a man older than your own father?" His words were provocative, laced with a taboo allure that made your cheeks flush. You knew there was a truth in what he said, but the forbidden nature of it only heightened your desire. Hugh was unlike any man you'd ever known—there was a raw, magnetic allure about him that drew you in, making you forget about the world beyond this terrace.

He was a god in human form, exuding a potent mix of masculinity and confidence. His touch was confident and assured, his fingers exploring you with an intimate knowledge that made your body sing. The cool night air combined with the warmth of his hands created a heady contrast that made you moan softly. Hugh's thumb found your clit, and he began to circle it with a tantalizing slowness, sending waves of pleasure rippling through you.

He leaned in close, his breath warm against your ear. "You're so responsive," he murmured, the huskiness of his voice sending a thrill down your spine. Then, with deliberate slowness, he pushed a finger inside you. The sudden intrusion made you gasp, your body arching towards him, craving more of his touch. The intensity of your desire was palpable, a living, breathing thing that consumed you.

"Already?" he asked, a teasing glint in his eyes. "I'm not even inside you yet." You couldn't help but roll your eyes playfully, which only made him chuckle. There was a warmth in his laughter, a sound that wrapped around you and heightened the anticipation building between you. "Go ahead then, go inside me," you dared him, but the words came out more like a plea, your voice breathy with need.

Hugh's expression shifted, his eyes darkening with lust. "My god, you're such a slut for me," he said, his voice thick with desire. The crude declaration sent a jolt of excitement through you, making your heart race. "Fuck yes, Hugh, I am," you confessed, the honesty in your voice making your cheeks burn. It was liberating, admitting just how badly you wanted him, and his smirk told you he relished every word.

"Fine, I'll give you what you want," he murmured, a wicked grin spreading across his face. With deliberate slowness, he unzipped his pants, letting them drop to the floor. The sight of him, hard and ready, made you swallow hard, your mouth suddenly dry with anticipation. You couldn't help but stare, your eyes tracing every inch of him, the primal hunger in your gaze unmistakable.

Then, as if breaking the spell, Hugh looked up, a thoughtful expression crossing his face. "Oh, I don't have a condom with me," he suddenly said, a hint of concern in his voice. You barely hesitated, the words tumbling out before you could think. "It's okay, I'm on the pill." The moment hung in the air, the intimacy of the situation crystal clear. His eyes darkened further, a predatory gleam shining in them as he absorbed your words.

"If you say so, babygirl," he murmured, his voice low. He positioned himself at your entrance, and with a slow, deliberate thrust, he entered you. The sudden fullness made you gasp, your hands gripping the edges of the table for support as your back arched involuntarily. The sensation was overwhelming, a mix of pleasure and pressure that made your mind go blank.

Hugh groaned, his head tilting back as he savoured the feeling. "Gosh, you feel so delicious around me," he breathed out, his voice laced with raw desire. His hands gripped your hips, pulling you closer as he began to move, each thrust sending waves of pleasure through your body.

"Better than anything you've had before?" you managed to ask, your voice shaky with the intensity of the sensations coursing through you. It was a question born of curiosity and a bit of pride, wanting to know if he felt the same electric connection that you did. His response was a low, guttural moan, his eyes locking onto yours with a fiery intensity.

"Much better," he rasped, his voice dripping with sincerity. His movements became more urgent, more insistent, as if he couldn't get enough of you. The rhythm he set was intoxicating, each thrust driving you closer to the edge. You could feel the table beneath you shaking with the force of his movements, the cold surface a stark contrast to the heat building inside you.

Hugh's hand slid up your body, fingers tracing the curve of your spine, sending shivers through you. His touch was both gentle and possessive, a reminder of the power he held over you in this moment. The pleasure built to a crescendo, the tension coiling tighter and tighter until it felt like you might explode. The world around you blurred, and all you could focus on was the delicious friction and the overwhelming sensation of him filling you completely.

"Fuck, you're amazing," he growled, his voice barely above a whisper, as if he could scarcely believe the intensity of the moment. The praise sent a thrill through you, pushing you even closer to the edge. You could feel him pulse inside you, every inch of him fitting perfectly, as if he was made for you.

As the intensity of the moment reached its peak, Hugh's thrusts grew even more purposeful, his eyes locked onto yours with an intensity that left you breathless. You felt a different kind of pressure building within you, a sensation that was new, raw, and overwhelming. It was as if your body was responding to him in ways it never had before, every nerve electrified by his touch.

Sensing the shift, Hugh slowed his pace slightly, maintaining a deep, steady rhythm that drove you wild. He leaned in close, his breath hot against your ear. "I can feel it, baby," he murmured, his voice a low, seductive growl. "You're so close. Let go for me. I want to feel you come apart."

The deep timbre of his voice and the promise in his words sent you spiraling. The pressure inside you continued to mount, reaching an almost unbearable level. You gasped, clutching the edge of the table as if it were a lifeline, your body shaking with the effort to hold back. But Hugh was relentless, his thrusts hitting just the right spot, coaxing you closer to the edge.

He placed a firm hand on your lower abdomen, pressing down gently. "Just let go, sweetheart," he urged, his voice soft yet commanding. "I want you to let it all out. Don't hold back." His words were like a key, unlocking something deep within you. The sensation became too much to contain, a dam about to burst.

With a strangled cry, you felt the floodgates open. A powerful wave of pleasure crashed over you, your body convulsing as you squirted, a hot rush of release that left you trembling. The sensation was so intense, so utterly consuming, that you could hardly breathe. Your vision blurred, and your mind blanked out everything but the exquisite feeling coursing through you. Hugh's eyes never left yours, a satisfied, almost possessive smile playing on his lips. "That's it, baby," he coaxed, his voice dripping with pride and satisfaction. "Let it all out. You're amazing."

As the intense waves of your orgasm began to subside, Hugh didn't slow down. Instead, he kept the pressure steady, his thrusts deep and precise, as if he was determined to draw every last ounce of pleasure from you. Just when you thought you couldn't handle any more, he reached up and wrapped a hand around your throat, applying just enough pressure to send another thrill of excitement coursing through your body. The sensation of his strong hand on your neck, combined with the powerful thrusts inside you, was intoxicating.

He leaned in close, his eyes locking onto yours with a dark, possessive intensity. "I'm gonna cum in you sweet girl" he growled, his voice low and commanding, sending shivers down your spine. The weight of his words hung in the air, adding a dangerous edge to the moment. "And you can never spill it, okay? Or I won't fuck you ever again." There was an undeniable authority in his voice, a challenge that made your heart race even faster.

The combination of his hand around your throat and the raw dominance in his voice sent you spiraling into another wave of pleasure. You nodded, breathless, barely able to form words. "Okay," you managed to gasp, your voice strained with the pressure on your neck and the overwhelming sensations coursing through you.

"Good girl," he murmured, a satisfied smirk on his lips. With a final, powerful thrust, he buried himself deep inside you, his grip on your throat tightening just enough to leave you breathless. You felt him pulse inside you, his release hot and thick, filling you completely. The sensation pushed you over the edge once more, your body arching towards him as you came again, the intensity almost too much to bear.

Hugh groaned, the sound deep and primal, as he found his release. His hand around your throat loosened, his fingers caressing your skin in a tender contrast to the roughness of his thrusts. The mixture of gentle and rough was intoxicating, leaving you utterly spent and completely satisfied.

"No young man has ever made me feel this way," you whispered, your voice shaky but filled with awe. The admission felt both liberating and surprising, as if you'd just discovered a new facet of yourself.

Hugh's smile widened, his eyes darkening with a mix of pride and desire. "That's because no young man knows how to treat a woman like you," he murmured, his fingers gently stroking your cheek. "You've got so much passion inside you, and I'm just the man to bring it out."

You looked up at him, a playful smile curling your lips. "So, have I changed your mind? Are you not into older women anymore?" you teased, your voice light and flirtatious. Hugh paused for a moment, a thoughtful expression crossing his face. The question seemed to catch him off guard, but his response was swift and sincere.

"Babygirl," he began, a slow smile spreading across his face, "I can only think about your pussy right now." His blunt honesty made your heart flutter, a delicious thrill coursing through you at his words. It was as if nothing else existed for him in that moment but you, and the intensity of his focus made you feel desired in a way you hadn't experienced before.

Still, amidst the raw passion, there was a tenderness in his gaze that reassured you. He reached out, gently cupping your face in his large hands. "Are you okay?" he asked, his voice soft and filled with genuine concern. It was a simple question, but it spoke volumes about the kind of man he was, capable of both dominance and deep care. You nodded, feeling a warm glow spread through your chest.

He leaned in, capturing your lips in a sweet, loving kiss. It was a stark contrast to the raw, animalistic passion from moments before, and it left you breathless in an entirely different way. The kiss was tender, lingering, as if he was savouring the moment. When he pulled back, his eyes were warm, a soft smile on his lips.

With gentle hands, Hugh reached down to pull your panties back on, his touch careful and deliberate. He made sure nothing spilled out, his fingers grazing your sensitive skin, sending a shiver through you. As he adjusted the fabric, he leaned down and pressed a light, teasing kiss over your clit through the thin material. The unexpected gesture made you gasp, your body jolting with a mix of surprise and lingering desire.

Your legs felt weak, trembling slightly from the intensity of everything that had just transpired. Hugh chuckled, a low, rumbling sound that made your stomach flip. "Next time, we'll just do it in bed," he said with a smirk, his eyes twinkling with amusement. You couldn't help but laugh, the tension breaking into a shared moment of light-heartedness. The intimacy of the moment, combined with the playful banter, felt like a perfect culmination of the intense connection you shared.

Together, you went back inside while Hugh was holding you bridal style. The cool air giving way to the warmth of the house. The bathroom was steamy as Hugh turned on the shower, the sound of running water filling the space. Without missing a beat, he scooped you back up into his strong arms, cradling you against his chest. His strength was evident as he carried you with ease, his touch reassuring and protective. You wrapped your arms around his neck, feeling the solid warmth of him beneath your fingertips.

As the warm water cascaded over you both, it felt like a cleansing, a washing away of everything but the present moment. Hugh held you close, his hands roaming your wet skin with a mix of possessiveness and reverence. The water created a curtain around you, isolating you in a cocoon of heat and steam.

With a slow, deliberate motion, he pressed you against the shower wall, the cool tiles a sharp contrast to the warmth of his body. His lips found yours in a searing kiss, the water pouring over you both adding to the intensity. It was a hot make out session, his tongue exploring your mouth with a passionate fervour that left you breathless. His hands gripped your hips, holding you steady as the kiss deepened, turning into something more primal and urgent.

The way he kissed you, hungry, demanding, yet tender—was intoxicating. You felt enveloped by him, his presence overpowering in the best possible way. Every touch, every kiss, was a promise of more to come, a hint at the depths of his desire for you. The water flowed over you, mingling with your sweat, as you lost yourself in the heat of the moment.

As you finally pulled away, gasping for breath, you rested your forehead against his, both of you panting from the intensity of the kiss. Hugh's eyes were dark with desire, a satisfied smirk on his lips. You knew that this was just the beginning, that the connection you shared was far from over. The shower may have been meant to cleanse, but instead, it became another chapter in your shared passion, a testament to the chemistry that crackled between you like an unquenchable fire.

dm me if u want to be in my taglist!!

Taglist:

@melaninjoys @ermlady @haytchee @elloredef

#hugh jackman #hugh jackman smut #marvel #marvel smut #wolverine #wolverine and deadpool #wolverine smut #ryan reynolds

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cherryxbooo · 6 months ago

Text

You’re my ideal type

Summary: A video from a year ago of Oscar talking about his ideal type went viral, making his fans wonder why he chose his girlfriend. This leaves y/n with a lot of questions herself.

Note: First time writing for Oscar! I kinda went with the flow. Let me know what you think! 😌

Reader x Oscar Piastri

Genre: fluff/angst

It was a beautiful, sunny day in Monaco. I was out with two of my friends, enjoying brunch together and soaking up the good vibes.

We spent hours talking, laughing, and joking around, overall it was a fantastic time.

Afterward, we decided to go for a stroll. That’s when we stumbled upon a gorgeous spot with an incredible view. For girls, that can only mean one thing: a photo session. And, of course, we took full advantage.

We snapped countless pictures of each other—exactly what I needed. I’d been wanting to update my Instagram feed, and I knew Oscar would appreciate a few of these too. A win-win situation if you ask me.

Hours later, we decided to head home. Parting ways was bittersweet, but we all had things to do.

When I finally arrived at the place Oscar and I shared, I immediately went inside, feeling my social battery completely drained.

I glanced at the clock and sighed. There were still a few hours to go before Oscar would be home. Feeling a little bored, I decided to tackle some household chores to pass the time.

Eventually, I finished everything and switched to full-on "bed rotting" mode. As I scrolled mindlessly on my phone, I remembered the stunning photos we’d taken earlier.

Sitting up, I started going through them, carefully picking out the best ones to upload to Instagram.

yourusername posted on Instagram!

Liked by oscarpiastri, landonorris, yourbffuser and others

yourusername Days like these ☀️💐

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oscarpiastri Prettiest girl ❤️ by author

alexandrasaintmleux Gorgeous ❣️

yourusername Says you 💋

f1_dailylvr81 She's so girly coded love it 💅

fashionistaformula I can't be the only one thinking about that one interview of Oscar?

paistryln481 You're not alone, every time I see her I keep thinking about it

foryoutt16 Wait what? I'm lost, what happened?

cocosainzyy55 @foryoutt16 An old interview of Oscar when he was still in F2 resurfaced and he was talking about his ideal type and the description he gave matches nothing to his current girlfriend. People are suddenly bringing this up again, wondering why he didn't choose his ideal type.

foryoutt16 Oh damn that's rough...

The comments and likes flooded in, as they always did. Sometimes, I forgot that I was dating an F1 driver. It came with its own kind of spotlight.

But as I scrolled through the comments under my post, a few things caught my attention.

One comment in particular stood out: something about an old interview of Oscar.

Confused and curious, I decided to look it up. Little did I know, I was about to regret it...

My stomach twisted into knots as I watched the video, realization sinking in. Oscar described his ideal woman, and her characteristics were unlike ones I possessed. I felt a wave of insecurities and doubts wash over me, each word a reminder of how I didn't fit the bill for his ideal partner.

My heart sank with every word he spoke, describing his ideal woman's qualities, and every one felt like another reminder of how far off the mark I was.

I couldn't help but wonder, "Why did he choose me?" His words stung, and I questioned whether he settled for less than his ideal because he didn't have better options.

On cue, as if the universe was playing a cruel joke, Oscar returned home and called out my name. His voice echoed through the hallway, a stark contrast to the turmoil churning inside me. I hesitated, a mix of fear and confusion gripping me, as I debated whether to face him with this newfound knowledge.

He entered the room with a warm smile, oblivious to the storm brewing inside me. He greeted me with a gentle kiss on the forehead before starting to speak in sweet words.

"Hey babe, how was your day?" he asked, completely unaware of the recent discovery I made.

I forced a smile, trying to hide the turmoil inside as I replied, "It was fine," my voice trying to mask the disappointment and insecurity that bubbled up.

The words left my lips, sounding hollow compared to the usual warmth in my tone.

Oscar sensed the hint of falsity in my fake smile. His observant nature picked up on the subtle cues of my distress, and he recognized that something was off. Yet, instead of immediately asking about it, he chose to hold off, observing to see if I would bring it up.

Oscar wrapped his arms around my waist, pulling me closer. He kissed my temple gently, his touch providing a temporary sense of comfort.

He knew something was bothering me and chose not to press, offering a moment of respite instead. "Do you want takeout?" he asked, his voice filled with tenderness.

I replied softly, trying to match his tenderness, "Sounds good." Despite my conflicting emotions, I didn't want to dampen the mood by revealing my insecurities.

"Takeout sounds great," I said, attempting to sound cheerful.

Oscar reluctantly let go of me, reaching for the phone to place the takeout order. In his absence, I seized the opportunity to sneak a look in the mirror, as well as to search for pictures of Oscar's ideal type.

I scoured the internet, comparing every aspect of my appearance to the images of his ideal woman. The comparison fueled my insecurities, amplifying the feeling of not measuring up.

My tears threatened to spill as I stood there, comparing myself to Oscar's ideal, but before they could, I heard Oscar's voice calling out.

"Y/n baby, the food will be here in twenty minutes," he informed me. I swiftly wiped away the tears before responding, attempting to hide the vulnerability in my voice, "Okay, thanks for letting me know."

Splashing my face with water to compose myself, hoping to hide any traces of my tears and distress. With determination, I dried my face and returned to the room where Oscar was, trying to mask my vulnerability.

After the food came, we ate together. I was quiet, it was mainly Oscar talking which was odd because normally it was always me talking and he would listen. We were currently cuddled up together after eating

Despite our cozy cuddle on the couch, my mind was preoccupied with worries. Thoughts like "What if he leaves me?" and "What if I'm not good enough?" consumed me.

Oscar noticed my distraction and asked if I was alright, concern in his voice. I replied, "Just tired," and although he didn't fully believe it, he decided not to push further.

Oscar spoke up once more, his voice soft and reassuring. "Y/n?" he began, his eyes searching mine.

"You know I love you, right? If there's anything bothering you, you know you can tell me," he emphasized, his tone filled with patience and support.

I nodded, attempting to hide the depth of my worries and insecurities. "Yeah, I know. I love you too," I responded, trying to sound reassuring.

The words felt heavy, knowing the weight of my unspoken fears.

A few weeks had passed since that moment of insecurity, and I had been avoiding Oscar, even though we lived together. I had made excuses to skip every Grand Prix, claiming I was too busy with work.

Yet, here I was, facing the mirror on the morning of a home race, feeling utterly unprepared. The interview weighed heavily on my mind, and I wasn't in the right state to face it.

Standing in front of my reflection, I looked at myself, thoughts of my inadequacy resurfacing.

Oscar entered the room, his gaze settling on me. He positioned himself behind me, wrapping his arms around my waist and resting his chin on my head.

His presence brought both comfort and nerves as I stood in front of the mirror, still grappling with my insecurities.

He spoke softly, his compliment genuine and sweet. "I didn't know it was possible to be this pretty. You look amazing love," he murmured, his voice filled with affection.

I stepped away from him, the compliment not offering the comfort it usually would. My actions were distant, as if I was subconsciously putting up a barrier.

"Thanks," I responded distantly, my tone devoid of the warmth that usually accompanied my words.

The fear of his departure and my sense of inadequacy still lingered in my heart, casting a shadow over the moment.

Oscar seemed puzzled by my distant behavior, his confusion evident. Seeing right through my attempt to avoid him, he asked gently,

"Baby, did I do something wrong? Why are you avoiding me?"

His voice was tinged with concern, his eyes filled with hurt at my distance.

I quickly responded, trying to change the subject. "No, you did nothing wrong. Uhm, shouldn't you leave for the race?"

Oscar looked at me, his gaze lingering on me before reluctantly letting it go.

"Wait, weren't you coming with me?" he questioned, his tone hinting at his confusion.

I responded with a slightly busted attitude, "Oh, uhm, I'm not done getting ready yet. I'll come later, though."

It was a lie, and Oscar seemed to sense that something was off.

Despite the passing time, he decided to focus on his own preparations while stealing a moment to kiss my forehead before leaving.

I took a moment to muster my courage, realizing that Oscar didn't deserve being pushed away because of my insecurities.

With a deep breath, I prepared myself to face the day and attend the race, pushing through the weight of my doubts.

As the hours flew by, I found myself standing in the garage, watching from afar, torn between my worries and the desire to support him.

After awhile I decided to go to the restroom since I still had some time before the race started.

As I was walking, I heard voices behind me, and my name being mentioned caught my attention.

I stopped to listen, not that I meant to eavesdrop, but hearing my name made it impossible not to.

From what I could tell, these girls were likely McLaren fangirls. Well duh after all, they were dressed in papaya colors.

Girl 1: "It's crazy that Oscar is still dating y/n. She doesn't even fit his ideal type."

Girl 2: "I know, right? Like, she's not even close."

Girl 3: "Yeah, he must be leading her on or something."

Girl 4: "Or maybe she's in it for the fame and money."

Girl 5: "Oh, definitely. There's no other reason she would be with him."

The girls' laughter echoed in my ears, each comment like a punch to my heart.

Girl 2: "Seriously, you'd think he could do better than her."

Girl 1: "Yeah, she's not even that attractive compared to the other girls he's dated before."

Girl 3: "I bet he'll realize soon that he could get someone way better."

Girl 4: "Well, if the fame and money aren't enough, then he's definitely settling."

I couldn't bear to listen any longer, my tears streaming as I fled to the restroom, seeking solace to hide my distress.

Time slipped away as I stayed there, isolated, wrestling with my tormenting thoughts and self-doubts.

Meanwhile, the McLaren garage buzzed with pre-race energy, but Oscar couldn’t focus. His eyes darted around the paddock, scanning for any sign of you.

Anxiety churned in his gut as he spotted his teammate leaning casually against a workbench.

“Lando!” Oscar called, walking over briskly.

Lando glanced up, eyebrows raised. “What’s up, mate?”

Oscar hesitated before blurting out, “Have you seen Y/N anywhere?”

Lando frowned, clearly puzzled. “No, mate, haven’t seen her. Matter of fact, I don’t think I’ve seen her around for the last few races. Is everything okay?”

Oscar sighed, running a hand through his hair. “I don’t know, mate. She’s been so distant lately, and I have no idea what I’ve done to upset her.”

Lando’s expression softened, a mix of pity and thoughtfulness. “Could it maybe have to do with that video that went viral again?”

Oscar blinked, confused. “What video? That old F2 interview of mine? That was years ago! I was just joking in most of it anyway.”

Lando shrugged, giving him a pointed look. “Mate, you might want to check the comments under her recent Instagram post. I think that’s your answer.”

With a sympathetic pat on the back, Lando turned and walked off, leaving Oscar alone with his thoughts.

He pulled out his phone, his fingers quickly navigating to your profile. The comments under your latest post hit him like a brick.

“Oh no,” Oscar muttered, his stomach sinking. “No wonder she’s been distant…”

He mentally kicked himself, remembering that dumb interview where he’d been too cocky for his own good.

“I didn’t even mean half the stuff I said,” he whispered to himself, cringing at the memory.

Before he could search for you and explain himself, a crew member called his name, dragging him toward the car for pre-race preparations.

“Great timing,” he muttered under his breath. But he made a promise to himself: as soon as this race was over, he’d find you and make things right.

Meanwhile, back to you, the restroom break had taken longer than expected. The initial plan to kill time before the race started had backfired; now, a dull ache was forming in my head, and I couldn’t shake the feeling of unease creeping up on me.

I leaned against the sink for a moment, taking a deep breath. “This is ridiculous,” I muttered to myself, but the discomfort wasn’t going away.

Deciding it was best not to push myself, I pulled out my phone and quickly typed a message to Oscar:

Not feeling great. Heading back home. Don’t worry about me.

I hesitated before hitting send. He’d probably be confused or even concerned, but the last thing I wanted was to worry him.

With a sigh, I hit send and slipped my phone back into my bag.

As I stepped out of the restroom and headed for the exit, I couldn’t help but feel a pang of guilt.

On the way, I also let Oscar's manager know I left, just in case he didn't check his phone.

I knew Oscar would notice my absence, but today, it felt easier to retreat than to stay and face everything swirling in my mind.

Little did I know, Oscar was already worrying.

The race had ended, with Oscar clinching a solid P4, just behind Lando. Though pleased with his result, his mind was elsewhere.

He wanted nothing more than to see you, to feel your arms around him, and hear you tell him how proud you were, just like old times.

But as he scanned the crowd, his hope began to waver. You weren’t there.

His manager noticed Oscar’s distracted gaze and approached him. “Looking for Y/N?” the manager asked gently.

“She left you a message. Said she wasn’t feeling well and headed home.”

Oscar’s jaw tightened, his heart sinking. You hadn’t told him the truth.

A mix of frustration and hurt bubbled to the surface. Without a word, he decided to skip the team celebrations and headed straight home.

When Oscar arrived, he didn’t waste a second. Dropping his bag by the door, he called out loudly. His voice sharper than usual.

“Y/N!”

You were downstairs in no time, a soft smile on your face.

“Oh, hey, Osc! You’re back early. How was the race?” I asked sweetly, trying to act normal.

But Oscar wasn’t having it. His expression was hard as he stared at you.

“You would’ve known if you didn’t leave,” he said, his voice laced with frustration.

Guilt washed over me, and you stammered, “I’m sorry, Osc. I wasn’t feeling well-”

“Cut the crap, Y/N!” he interrupted, startling you. His voice was raised, something he rarely did.

“When are you going to finally admit the real reason you’ve been like this? Tell me! I’m sick of it!”

I flinched but couldn’t blame him. He deserved an explanation. At the same time, I’d had enough, too. My emotions spilled out, my voice breaking.

“How would you feel if people kept telling you that your partner is too good for you? That you’re not good enough, that you’re too ugly, not their type, only with them for the money?!”

Tears streamed down my face as you continued.

“And yes, it’s about that stupid interview of yours! I can’t help it, okay? Call me dumb, call me a crybaby, but this is too much!”

By now, I was full-on sobbing, unable to meet his gaze. But before I could crumble further, I felt his arms wrap around me, pulling me close.

His voice was soft now, gentle. “Why didn’t you tell me, baby? I could’ve helped. We’re a team, remember?”

I sniffled, my voice trembling as I replied, “Those were your words, Oscar. I can’t take them back or change them.”

He sighed, his hand running soothingly up and down your back. “Babe, that interview was years ago. I was joking around the entire time. If you’d watched the whole thing, you’d see that.”

I shook my head, unsure, but he leaned back just enough to look at me.

“Since when is my favorite color pink?” he teased, a small laugh escaping him.

Despite yourself, you let out a small laugh, too.

“That's better,” he said, smiling.

“Listen to me. Everything I said in that interview wasn’t true. I was 18, tired, and didn’t even want to be there. I was just trolling to get it over with.”

I laughed again at his confession, finally meeting his eyes.

“There’s that pretty smile,” he said, his tone softer now. “I’m sorry you had to deal with that, but next time, talk to me, okay?”

I nodded, wiping your tears. “I will. I’m sorry for doubting you… for pushing you away.”

He smiled warmly, leaning in to peck your lips a few times.

“It’s okay, love. I get why you did it. But don’t you ever doubt yourself again, yeah? You’re the most beautiful girl in the world. If anyone doesn’t deserve someone, it’s me. How did I get so lucky, huh?”

He cupped your face, his thumb gently caressing your cheek before pulling you into a long, passionate kiss. When he finally pulled back, his forehead rested against yours.

“Don’t you ever doubt yourself,” he whispered. “You’re my ideal type. Always.”

I laughed softly. “Alright, alright, I get it.”

Suddenly, Oscar scooped me up into his arms, bridal style, making me squeal.

“Osc! What the hell are you doing? Put me down!”

He grinned, shaking his head as he headed toward the bedroom.

“Nope. Let me show my gorgeous girl how much I love her.”

And let’s just say, the night ended perfectly. From that moment on, I never doubted his love for me ever again.

oscarpiastri posted on Instagram!

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oscarpiastri An amazing race to finish off the week. A big thank you to the entire team and the fans. Also a big thank you to my beautiful girlfriend for being the best support.

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yourusername So so proud of you Osc!!! Love you! 🩷

oscarpiastri Love you too pretty!

landonorris Well done mate 🙌 extra support is always great!

oscarpiastri Thanks man! You're right especially if she's just my type 😉

yourusername 🤭 ❤️ by author

lalalandnorris4you Oscar really gagged all of you haters purr 💅

frvrformulaonestan1 This is the cutest thing ever brb I'm going to cry 🥹

notyourfan481 Bro Oscar you don't have to lie we all know this ain't you

osclvy/n Girl stfu he isn't going to notice you ffs 🙄

lovelypeachlan4 You thought you did sum? Get out 👉🚪

yourusername posted on Instagram!

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yourusername A little recap of last week 🤍

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yourbffuser Looking like a snack 😋😍🥵

yourusername Love ya 💋🫦

oscarpiastri Gorgeous 😍

yourusername Love youu Osc 🥰

alexandrasaintmleux So so so pretty 😘

yourusername Says you beautiful 😉💕

lv4motorsports81 She's so pretty omd

manyyynorriz She's gorgeous, don't know what people were on about 🤨

banananorrispiastry81 🤢

nothingthelessnorris4 And you did this for what ☠️

piastrybakerlvr Move on he isn't going to notice you 🥱

lvlynorrisss4 Yet your comment didn't make any change to this world... Grow up 🤦‍♀️

The end

#f1 fanfic #f1 imagine #f1 x reader #f1 fic #oscar x reader #oscar piastri x reader #oscar piastri x you #oscar piastri fanfic #oscar piastri imagine #oscar piastri smau #oscar piastri fluff #oscar piastri au #oscar piastri angst

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harrysfolklore · 5 months ago

Text

31st - hs

happy birthday to the one and only love of my life 🥹🥹 31 omg! i hope he has the best day ever <33

MASTERLIST | MY PATREON

You woke up early on February 1st, carefully slipping out of bed without disturbing Harry, who was still peacefully sleeping. The morning sun was just beginning to peek through the curtains, reflecting light across his face. At 31, he was somehow even more beautiful than when you'd first met him - a few more laugh lines around his eyes, his curls slightly shorter now, but still undeniably your Harry.

Making your way to the kitchen, you began the birthday breakfast preparations you'd been planning for days. You started brewing his favorite coffee and pulled out the ingredients for the banana pancakes he loved so much.

As you worked, you couldn't help but smile, remembering his 30th birthday last year - the big party, all their friends and family gathered together. This year, though, Harry had asked for something quieter, more intimate. "Just us," he'd said, "maybe dinner with family later."

The sound of footsteps made you look up, and there he was, leaning against the doorframe in his pajama bottoms and that old Rolling Stones t-shirt you loved so much.

"You're supposed to be sleeping," you scolded playfully, whisking the pancake batter.

"Bed was cold without you," he mumbled, voice still rough with sleep. His hair was adorably mussed, and he had pillow creases on his cheek. "Besides, something smells amazing."

"Happy birthday, love," you said softly, abandoning your cooking to wrap your arms around him.

He hummed contentedly, pulling you closer and burying his face in your neck. "Thank you, baby."

"Thirty-one," you mused, running your fingers through his hair. "How does it feel?"

"Honestly?" He pulled back to look at you, his green eyes twinkling. "Pretty much the same as thirty. Though I did find another grey hair yesterday."

You laughed, reaching up to touch the single silver strand at his temple. "I think it makes you look distinguished."

"Distinguished?" He raised an eyebrow, trying to suppress a smile. "Is that what we're calling it?"

"Mhmm," you nodded seriously. "Very sophisticated. Very George Clooney."

"Oi!" He tickled your sides, making you squeal. "I'm not that old yet!"

The pancakes were momentarily forgotten as you both dissolved into laughter, play-fighting in the kitchen like teenagers. Finally, Harry pulled you close again, pressing soft kisses along your jaw.

"You know," he murmured, "this is already my favorite birthday."

"It's barely started!"

"Doesn't matter. I'm here with you, in our kitchen, and you're making me breakfast. What could be better?"

Your heart swelled with love for this man who could find joy in the simplest moments. "Well, it might get even better when you see your presents."

His eyes lit up like a child's. "Presents? But you said we weren't doing big gifts this year!"

"And we're not," you assured him, turning back to the pancakes before they burned. "Just a few small things. Though..." you paused for dramatic effect, "there might be tickets to that vintage guitar show in Nashville you were talking about."

Harry's gasp of delight made you laugh. "Really? The one with the '59 Les Paul?"

"Maybe," you sang, flipping a pancake. "You'll have to wait and see."

He wrapped his arms around you from behind, watching you cook. "Have I told you lately that you're the best wife ever?"

You felt your cheeks flush at the word 'wife,' still not quite used to hearing it spoken aloud. After nearly a year of marriage, it was still your precious secret, shared only with family and closest friends. The ring on your finger was usually hidden away in public, and you'd both become experts at careful wording in interviews.

"Shh," you teased, though your heart fluttered at his words. "The walls might have ears."

Harry chuckled, pressing a kiss to your shoulder. "You know, I've been thinking about that actually."

"About what?" you asked, sliding the last pancake onto the plate.

He turned you around gently, his expression thoughtful. "About keeping it secret. Don't get me wrong, this past year has been incredible, having something that's just ours. But sometimes..." he paused, running a hand through his hair, "sometimes I just want to tell the whole world that I'm married to the most amazing woman."

You set down the spatula, studying his face. "Really? You want to go public?"

"Only if you're ready," he said quickly. "But yeah, I do. It's been almost a year, and honestly, I'm tired of not being able to call you my wife whenever I want to. Of having to take my ring off for appearances. Of watching you do the same."

Your heart raced at the possibility. "It would change things," you said softly. "The privacy we've had..."

"I know," he nodded, taking your hands in his. "But maybe... maybe it's time. And what better day than my birthday? We could post something simple, just us."

You thought about it for a moment. The past year had been magical, your private bubble of newlywed bliss protected from the public eye. But he was right - there was something exhausting about constantly hiding, about choosing your words so carefully, about slipping your rings off before stepping outside.

"Okay," you finally said, a smile spreading across your face. "Let's do it."

Harry's eyes lit up. "Yeah?"

"Yeah," you laughed as he pulled you into a tight hug. "But after breakfast! These pancakes are getting cold."

Later, after breakfast and presents, you both sat on the couch, phones in hand. You'd chosen a simple photo from your wedding day - just your hands intertwined, both wearing your rings, nothing too revealing but unmistakably a wedding photo.

"Ready?" he asked, his thumb hovering over the 'post' button.

You took a deep breath, nodding. "Ready."

With a click, your secret was out in the world. You both turned your phones to silent, knowing they would explode with notifications any second.

"How does it feel?" Harry asked, pulling you close.

You twisted your ring, which for the first time wouldn't have to come off when you left the house later. "Liberating," you decided. "Scary, but good scary."

"No more hiding," he agreed, kissing your temple.

"No more hiding," you repeated, then laughed. "Your mum's going to be thrilled. She's been dying to post those wedding photos."

"Oh God," Harry groaned good-naturedly. "She's probably already sharing them as we speak."

You snuggled closer to him, enjoying this quiet moment before the world would inevitably explode with the news. "Happy birthday, H. Sorry I kind of hijacked it with our announcement."

"Are you kidding?" He grinned down at you. "This is the best gift you could have given me. Now everyone knows I'm the luckiest man alive."

"Charmer," you muttered, but you were smiling.

"Your charmer," he corrected, then added with obvious delight, "Your husband."

"My husband," you agreed, loving how it felt to say it out loud, knowing you wouldn't have to whisper it anymore.

───────── ౨ৎ ─────────

liked by zayn, yourinstagram and 20,876,449 others

harrystyles Best birthday gift was marrying my soulmate almost a year ago. Thank you for keeping our secret. ❤️

February, 2024

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username1 WHAT THE HELL

username2 IS THIS A JOKE

taylorswift Finally!! 🥂 Keeping this secret was TORTURE. So happy for you both ♥️

gemmastyles Bbout time you two told everyone!! now i can finally post all the cute photos from the wedding 😭💕

lizzo YALL I WAS AT THE WEDDING AND HAD TO PRETEND I WASNT THIS WHOLE TIME 😭 CONGRATS AGAIN BESTIES

niallhoran The most beautiful day! Love you both!

yourinstagram Finally 🤍 Happy birthday to my husband (!!!) who makes every day feel like a love song. Thank you for choosing me, always.

username3 HUSBAND???????? MARRIED????????? IM SHAKING AND CRYING AND THROWING UP

username4 OH MY GOD THE SIGNS WERE THERE ALL ALONG. REMEMBER WHEN HE KEPT TOUCHING HIS RING FINGER IN THAT ONE INTERVIEW??

username5 not me zooming in on every detail of this photo 👀 THE RINGS ARE SO BEAUTIFUL IM SOBBING

username6 the way they kept this secret for a YEAR?? we love a private couple

username7 HARRY STYLES IS A MARRIED MAN. THIS IS NOT A DRILL. I REPEAT. HARRY STYLES IS A MARRIED MAN

username8 im so happy for them but also crying in the club rn 😭

username9 THE WAY YN JUST CALLED HIM HUSBAND IM SCREAMING

username10 not me thinking about how they had a whole secret wedding and we had no idea 😭 they're so powerful

username11 "best birthday gift" STOP IM CRYING THIS IS SO ROMANTIC

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losvroomvroom · 4 days ago

Text

watching carlos's cafelito episode finally. here's some interesting tidbits. disclaimer: my rusty ass high school spanish + the autotranslate captions. hopefully i haven't misinterpreted anything.

gets along with gaëtan because they're both workaholics who love to be on the phone in their days off

can only be comfortable in a road car when he's not driving if his father is the driver

found out about the lewis -> ferrari move from rumors before ferrari told him and then called fred about it for confirmation (Ferrari When I Get You Round Five Thousand!!!)

BIG eye roll about the whole concept of red bull god bless

pleased little chuckle when the interviewer brings up how much jv likes working with him god bless

very optimistic about williams' prospects for the 2026 car, not thrilled about the 2026 engines but is reserving judgement on the cars themselves

talking again about how his mother managed the father-son relationship, telling sr when he was too harsh, reinforcing sr's advice when jr was sick of listening to him, etc

very excited to be a double uncle (both of his sisters have kids)

has realized that you have to celebrate a good moment in motorsport when you reach it, they may not happen very often due to the number of things that have to go perfectly

listens to podcasts about team building and leadership... he had some trouble expressing what he meant in spanish (presumably bc the podcasts are in english) but he was talking about the importance of no-blame culture within a team

likes to start post-race engineering meetings by listing all the things he did wrong during a weekend before criticizing the team or the car or whatever, which helps other team members admit mistakes without fear

he's a very shy guy and really likes his privacy. the interviewer said something like "i like that you're famous, i like that everyone knows you" and he was like "it's getting worse." and then implies that he should be less famous than instagram influencers. go-to example of "a celebrity" justin bieber. wishes he could drive his nice road cars in peace. embarrassed to talk about his billion nice road cars and drive them around. drives his golf so he won't be noticed.

he and pogacar are neighbors actually. carlos's push days on the bike are pogacar's recovery days

lists swimming, cycling, and synchronized swimming as the sports that require the most dedication

re his father retiring -- "if the stopwatch says you're fast, why would you retire?"

interesting stretch where he talks about when he has to battle fernando (says fernando's always very clever) and also about navigating the teammate relationship (says it's hardest one to manage)

always goes over races with his father, the evening of or the day after

signed his first ferrari contract at 9am in his pyjamas during lockdown

respects nadal & jon rahm (golf) a lot in terms of their attitude and approach toward sport. extremely tough on the field but respectful & humble, which he thinks is the ideal

says he comes across as an affable guy in interviews because he's become calloused to them but he is still shy & pretty reserved except when he's with his 3-4 closest people. tries to maintain a distance to people he thinks might be less trustworthy ("pirates", he calls them)

loves madrid SO much (not a new fact)

loves to talk about his karting program for kids 6-8 (his "minions"), says it's important to support the grassroots of the sport, wants to make it as affordable as possible

says his best friends now are the same as his best friends when he was like three years old. he doesn't make new friends easily and he's very closed off to new people. very important to him that he's kept the same friends his whole life and doesn't get why everyone doesn't do that. (adding this to the "carlos has strong and somewhat unusual views about the concept of friendship" evidence folder)

rapid fire questions segment. cerebral or passionate?--cerebral. what are you missing in your life?--more time for golf, i'm losing my swing. best driver in f1 history?--senna. who would win in the same car? alonso, sainz, verstappen?--sainz. advice from your mom?--be respectful, behave, smile more. what f1 drivers would you go to dinner with?--lando norris & charles leclerc. any advice?--smile more. the whole world needs to smile more. will you be a world champion one day?--someday, but I hope soon.

#carlos #carlos sainz #this was a good watch and also he was so so beauty throughout #they caught him at like the perfect haircut moment thank you so much.

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euphoriesx · 5 days ago

Text

pls bring me back from the dead oh god (inspired by a random tt i found whilst doomscrolling even tho i hv an exam tmr...)

itoshi sae considers his biggest weakness to be that he doesn't know anything else besides soccer.

it used to be worth it. kicking the ball around would light up a fire in his heart, every goal scored nothing short of extraordinary. soccer was magic, and he was the wizard with the wand in his hand.

'sae! come here!' the video, taken on a digital camera, plays. he feels like he's in a cinema and the end credits are rolling.

'mama.' a baby sae, in a romper the same shade as his eyes, waddles towards her. there's a soccer ball near him, and he hugs it with all his might.

'i don't know why your dad got you that ball,' she murmurs. 'but you seem to like it very much. who knows? maybe you're a soccer player.'

sometimes he remembers having a dream. oh, to be the best forward in the world alongside his brother. that tiny dream was all he clasped in his hand as he wheeled off his suitcase past the airport gates, all that brought him to life as he left home.

other times he wished he never had a dream at all. maybe now he'd still be in school, figuring out chem projects and essays. maybe he'd be looking at a future where he worked a simple office job from 9 to 5, coming back home to a nice dinner, and resting. friday nights would be a blessing every week, and maybe a wife and kids.

he doesn't want to tell anyone what happened to him in spain. on his soul, he knew he'd changed - he just didn't know how to become who he was before. that was the worst part of it. he mourned the loss of his old self, when soccer was a hobby - most nights in his house in madrid were spent reviewing game footage until his eyes couldn't open anymore and he cried himself to sleep.

despite all the fame, he couldn't sound anything more than monotone in every interview. despite every game won, he had to stand by and watch his teammates cheer loudly and jump all over each other.

is a prodigy a prodigy when they don't enjoy what they do?

besides soccer, itoshi sae doesn't know anything. he can hardly fry an egg without burning the kitchen down, and driving is a hassle. he wants his mom back to do it all for him but he has to swallow that sorrow and hope he's making her proud.

he thought he'd never know how to love, either.

that is, until he met you.

you were a journalist, another one of those people who interviewed players for a job. he hated the way they were so insensitive to how he felt, but you ... when you tried to interview him, he clammed up. not in his usual icy way because he knew interviews were a bother, but because he was shocked to see something else in you.

the same compassion for your job that he had once had for soccer.

the interview was never broadcasted. you'd pulled some strings, knowing he wasn't comfortable.

almost a year later and now, you're in his kitchen, in his house in madrid, humming to yourself as you clasp a cup of coffee in your hand and watch a replay of a barca match, of all things. he doesn't mind. he can't mind with you.

he probably won't ever get that original spark back for soccer again, but god, he had to love life when you were around. snaking hands around your waist and planting them on the cold kitchen counter, he watched the replay with his cheek against yours, head on your shoulder and pinkish hair meshing against yours.

'we beat their asses,' he laughs.

'i know. i'm devastated.' he can't help but give you a peck on the cheek for that one.

'will you burn your iglesias jersey then?' he despised bunny iglesias, almost as much as he despised french fries.

you pause. it's nice that you give him silence. sae likes silence, in a way that that pink bug freak can't give him.

'sadly, no,' you murmur.

'are you saying he's your favorite?'

'no. you know who my favorite is.'

'who?' he quirks an eyebrow, a hand coming to his hip in a pose he knows he does way too much for his own good. he already knows what your answer is gonna be.

'only the best footballer in the world. sae itoshi.'

so sae only knows two things in life. soccer and how to love you.

it's no longer a weakness, though.

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woso-dreamzzz · 11 months ago

Text

Difficult VI

Mapi Leon x Ingrid Engen x Teen!Reader

Summary: You're a racing star

Ingrid can remember it like it was yesterday.

It wasn't the best race she'd watched, not with you crashing out from third position on the first lap, not when you'd fallen from your bike and rolled on the floor for a bit.

But then you'd gotten up again and you'd gotten back onto your bike and sped off to catch the pack.

It'd been a brutal battle for you to make up the places you lost and then from last you were second, closing in on first around the second to last corner.

Ingrid can remember the commentators when she watched the race back.

"And...Oh my god, Redbull's Rookie sweep pasts her championship rival! From last to first at the first Barcelona MotoGP race, it's the home favourite! The Norwegian raised in Barcelona, the Rookie in her first year! Y/n Engen-León crosses the line! Her first win! One of many I think!"

Ingrid can remember it all so clearly as you parked your bike, took off your helmet and ran at her, sobbing into her shoulder.

It was your first year in MotoGP. It was your first race win too and you sobbed like that little girl who once watched Ingrid lift the Champion's League trophy.

And, now, you're here.

"I'm Max Verstappen, former Formula One driver."

"And I'm Y/n Engen-León, current MotoGP champion and I'm going to be trading in my motorbike for a Formula One car."

You'd been a Redbull girl since your very first race at the tender age of five. It had been on one of the dirt tracks in Mapi's hometown and a Redbull representative had come up to you all at the end of the race to discuss your potential.

From there, you'd grown up driving for Redbull. You'd driven for them in Motocross and then now in MotoGP too.

You were more than happy to drag Ingrid and Mapi along to your interviews and opportunities.

But Ingrid has to admit to some degree of fear seeing you in Max Verstappen's old championship winning car.

It had taken years for Ingrid to get used to you on a bike and while a car is meant to be safer, that fear increases tenfold as she watches you mess around with the steering wheel and test out the pedals.

"I like this," You say to the camera before turning to your parents," Mumma, Mami, check this out."

Always eager, Mapi practically prances forward to look at where you're pointing. Ingrid follows a little more slowly, a tense smile on her face.

"It'll be fine, Mumma," You say, reaching out to take her hand," I'll be okay. I was made for this kind of thing."

As Ingrid watches you peal onto the track, she can't help but think that you're kind of right. You've adored all types of racing since you were tiny, the little daredevil that you were.

It was just luck that Mapi's father got you a bike instead of a kart or else you would have ended up in one of these cars rather than your bike.

You had a need for speed and a racer's disregard for speeding laws.

You took to all forms of racing as you turn through a corner neatly and cross the line.

"Woo!" You say, pumping your fist as you step out," That was good. Was it good?"

Max Verstappen looks up from the data, nodding. "Two seconds off the reference lap."

You grin. "Not so bad for my first time, huh?"

He purses his laps, eyes studying you. "I think you could do better."

Your grin stretches into a smirk. "I know I could do better."

You do lap after lap after lap until your barely one-hundredth of a second off your reference lap.

Ingrid knows, in theory, that Formula One racing is different to your racing but you make it look so easy. You look like you've been racing cars your entire life.

"Look at her," Mapi says in awe," Look! Look!"

Your last lap is your best, one tenth faster than the reference and you're grinning like you've just won your home race again.

Your fists pump up as you jump from the car, pulling off your helmet.

"Did you see? Mumma, Mami? Did you see?"

"I got a video!" Mapi says," I'll send it to your Abuelo, he'll be so excited to see this!"

After your drive in the car, you end up in another interview with Verstappen.

You've become quite the star in your racing series and the team are really trying to capitalise on it.

"Yeah, I mean," Ingrid catches you saying," I've been racing since I was little. My Abuelo got me my first bike when I was still young and we had to hide it from my Mumma for months because she didn't approve."

Ingrid can still remember seeing you on your first bike. She can still remember thinking that it was surprising they made ones that small. She can still remember your racing suit and your helmet and the joy you got out of something simple as going up and down the bumps of the dirt track.

"I don't think I can even explain what I felt when I won in my rookie year. It means so much to me and my parents had to sacrifice a lot to help me on my journey. I didn't have quite as much success in Motocross as I'm having in MotoGP right now. I know my Mumma would prefer if I chose a safer sport but I think that's why I try so hard. I want to prove to her that despite all these injuries and despite all the danger, she did a good thing in letting me keep racing. I could have driven under Spain's flag if I wanted but Mumma's Norwegian and I'm Norwegian and I want to make her proud."

Something in Ingrid breaks then and she turns her head into Mapi's neck, tears falling from her eyes as she tries not to sob out loud.

Of course she's proud of you. She's so proud of you. She'll always be proud of you.

With or without a championship.

"And of course, my Mami and her family are the ones that got me into racing. Her father used to be my mechanic when I was a kid and Mami was always signing me up for races and supporting me when I got hurt. She designs all my helmets. I think my first win at Barcelona was really the culmination of all the hard work she put into me and my racing."

Verstappen nods along with you. "Would you say that your mothers are your biggest supporters?"

You grin. "Definitely."

#woso x reader #mapi leon x reader #mapi leon #ingrid engen x reader #ingrid engen #woso community #woso imagine #woso fanfics #woso

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endless-ineffabilities · 1 year ago

Text

Chemical Override (bonus chapter)

Ewan Mitchell x actress!reader

a/n: surprise! Something to tide you guys over until the heart-wrencher that is part five!! Y'know, gotta have some laughs before everything blows up 💣 or something like that :)

previous chapter ▪︎ series masterlist ▪︎ main masterlist

What happens when your castmates decide to have a drinking game based on yours and Ewan's interviews? Chaos. Absolute chaos.

"Is it just me or does my head look abnormally large in this?" comes Tom's query as they sit on the floor around the low table in Phia's living room.

Phia, Tom, and Olivia are snug on the carpet, legs strewn in varying postions, their attention on the laptop on the table.

"No, just you, mate," Phia responds.

"Nah, look at 'im," Olivia counters, "Looking like a right old egghead."

"I knew it," Tom clicks his tongue, smiling at the jab.

The friends were just having a nice time catching up in Phia's apartment, and after several coffees and rolled cigarettes, they found themselves nestled on the floor, beers in hand.

Someone made a suggestion to check up on the interviews being released as part of the media rollout. And so they watched the cast's interviews, already having done with the one from Wired, MTV, and the Buzzfeed Puppy Interview.

"I loved those pups," Olivia remarked jokingly. "But they didn't love me back. Story of my life."

"Oh, I love you, Liv!" Phia had exclaimed, pulling her friend in for a hug.

"Aaanyway," Phia says, reaching forward and scrolling through the suggested videos, "how about this one next! I miss those two." She clicks on an interview you and Ewan had done together, in that long press day where you guys were paired by the media team.

"They look adorable, don't they?" Tom says. "Here's to hoping the lad's finally made a bloody move."

"What about the goss on that girl you all were with? The one at the pub?" Olivia curiously asks, not kept in the loop due to her holiday abroad.

"All bull. You know how the tabloids are. She was sweet and everything but Ewan was practically side-eyeing her all the way into oblivion when she kept clinging on his arm. Poor girl." Tom smirks, the memory still fresh in his mind.

"Awww, look! Ewan's looking at her all gooey-eyed. Even then!" Phia simpers, leaning against Olivia.

"Of course, I was extremely excited and nervous to join the cast for season two," you can be heard saying, "being a huge fan of the book and the first season... I mean, it was such a tall order for me to step into this world but you know - "

"She did it so flawlessly," Ewan says to the interviewer. "We were so lucky to have her join the show."

"Oh, come on," you can't help but blush and shake your head. "Everyone was so welcoming, really."

"Well, it's safe to say that the audience loves your character!" the interviewer says kindly.

"Thank you so much, I'm glad to hear that," you beam in return.

"What a character, indeed," Ewan says, looking at you again.

Tom giggles, swinging his beer, "The look on his face, oh my days! Ewan is whi-ipped, I'm telling you. Just look at those stars in his eyes, you'd think she's an angel or somethin."

"She is an angel," Phia muses.

"Lovely girl," Olivia agrees.

"Oh!" Tom sits upright suddenly, leaning forward on his knees, "How about this? They've got a couple interviews up, right? Drinking game then, shall we? A shot each time Ewan looks at her or pays her a compliment!"

Olivia laughs nervously, but she's more than game to participate. "A swig of beer or... "

"Nah!" Tom scrunches his face in response. "Say, Phi, have you got vodka or tequila or whatever?"

"I... think I've got some leftover tequila," she ponders. "Are you proposing a shot of tequila every time Ewan fawns over her? Isn't that a bit dangerous? Should we stick to beer?"

"It'll be fun," Tom reassures, already getting on his feet to fetch the bottle from the kitchen. "Ewan's a professional," he says, when he returns with tequila and three shot glasses. "Surely he maintained his focus during all of that. Can't be more than - what, three or four shots each?"

Oh, how wrong he is.

It only takes another interview for them to realise that they might have been overzealous in taking on the challenge.

Most Likely To with the cast of House of the Dragon, the screen displays. You and Ewan pop up in intervals, and they eagerly await your clips with shots in hand.

"Most likely to be late on set?" you say, raising your hands when you answer with, "I'm happy to say that it was not me."

"No?" Ewan asks.

"Nope, early each day," you smile at him.

"I believe you, I mean, I wish we actually had scenes together," Ewan says, smiling right back, eyes lingering on you when you add something more to your answer.

"Shot!" Tom exclaims. The trio's faces crunch up when the burning liquid slides down their throats.

"Fuck's sake," Olivia mutters. "Ewan better keep his googly eyes to himself."

"Don't get your hopes up," Phia says, knowing the both of you well.

"Most likely to accidentally date a serial killer? What the hell is this question?" Ewan snorts, eyebrows shooting up.

"Are we even in the right show for this?" you joke, and Ewan laughs harder, his hand finding your forearm and squeezing briefly.

"Shot, I suppose," Phia mumbles. "I mean, look at his face, the sweetheart."

Another round, and everyone feels warmer and more lightheaded.

"Wouldn't be me, I don't know about you?" you ask Ewan.

"Oh, I wouldn't. I don't think Aemond would either, he would see right through that."

"Next, most likely to show up in a stunning outfit," you read from the prompts off-camera.

"Hmm," Ewan muses, "I would say maybe Liv Cooke... she's had really good outfits on the carpet lately..."

"I agree," you nod enthusiastically. "Liv's killing it."

"And you, definitely," Ewan turns to you again. "I mean, stunning would be an understatement."

"Shot!" Olivia half-yells. "And bless her, look! She's turned all red from Ewan's flirting."

"Thanks, mate," you say, tilting your head at him. "You as well! Your stylists have outdone themselves this press tour, for sure."

"Half a shot cause she gives something his way?" Tom suggests, comically shrugging. By the end of the video, the group had done three and a half rounds of shots, all growing redder in the face, their laughter turning unhinged.

"I'm actually scared to do another interview," Olivia groans. "Can those two just shag each other already? Goodness!"

"Who knows? Maybe they have? Would be about time," Tom cheekily says, ever the agent of chaos.

"Ewan did fly out to see her," Phia nods. "They're both in America right now, my darlings."

"Another interview!" Tom gets to clicking, landing on the one you and Ewan did with Rotten Tomatoes.

"We ask everyone this question - can you tell me your favourite movie from this year?" is what the interviewer starts with.

"That's a good question," Ewan says. "Uhhmm, well, it isn't from this year I think but her film - " he gestures to you, " - is one of my all-time favourites. I think it came out late last year, if I'm not mistaken?" He looks to you for confirmation, and your flustered self manages to hum a response. "I just think the whole film was brilliant. It definitely showcases her talents and solidifies her as one to watch."

"Oh, for fuck's sake," Tom sighs, and they all bring the shot glasses back to their lips.

"Guys, I might pass out by the end of this." Olivia stands to fetch herself a glass of water. "Ewan's a menace!" she calls out from the kitchen.

"We shouldn't have done this," Tom shakes his head.

"You suggested it!" Phia punches his arm, laughing.

"I guess I underestimated the degree of whipped that Ewan is. That cheeky lad."

Four more rounds of shots later, and the group has their tally up to eight and a half.

Yet another interview plays on the screen, and when Ewan - with all his bloody audacity - pushes a lock of hair away from your face on camera, Tom's eyes nearly bulge right out of his head.

"Oh my god!" he cries out. "He's trying to kill us! I think I'm actually going to puke."

"I quit." Olivia slumps against the base of the velvet couch. "I can't drink any more. Ewan wins."

Phia giggles at the screen, at the sight of her two dear friends slowly but surely falling in love right before the audience's eyes. In some show of celebration, she takes another shot, the last player left in the game.

▪︎ ▪︎ ▪︎

Meanwhile across the Atlantic...

"Hey, darling," you hear Ewan's voice on the other line. "I just settled in my hotel in New York."

"That's good! Did your flight go well?"

"Mhmm, my meeting's tomorrow afternoon so I've got time to prepare," he takes a breath, before softly saying, "I miss you."

You laugh, "So you keep telling me, Mitchell."

"We're still on that huh, darling? Shouldn't you be calling me something more... personal, by now?"

"Like what?"

"I don't know, you tell me."

"Well... the internet does call you their babygirl."

"Oh come on," he complains, smiling nevertheless.

"What is it, babygirl?"

"That's how you want to play it, bunny?"

"Ewan!" you groan. "Okay, okay."

"Anyway, darling," he says. "I really do miss you. I can't wait to see you again.'

The longing is clear in his voice and it tugs at your heart so much that you need to pause and collect yourself, before finally saying, "I miss you too, baby."

Cheers to all of yous who voted here! Baby it is ~

In the meantime...

Update! ~ part five

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#ewan mitchell #ewan mitchell x reader #aemond targaryen #house of the dragon #ewan mitchell imagine #chemical override

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count-on-mi · 4 months ago

Text

Twice Interactive Story Part 21 Queen (Sana, Tzuyu, Feat. Momo)

'Just remember you are going to fuck me, not Dahyun tomorrow, ok?' Sana gets up from your lap.

'Would you mind help me to dress up, boss?' Sana put her panties on the ground in your pocket.

'And I suggest you should talk with Mina too, maybe apologize? I don't know. She is really down today.'

"Yeah, I'll talk to her." I say as I help Sana.

Sana's face turns red as you playing her body while help her dressing. 'Can't you wait for tomorrow, huh?' Sana winks at you.

There's someone knocking on the door and she comes in before you answer, it's Tzuyu again.

'Seems I always come at the wrong time, is it part of my responsibility to serve you after I join the team?' Tzuyu sits on the sofa and watch your hands running through Sana's body.

"Only if you want it to be otherwise I'll keep my hands off you." I spank Sana as a sign for her to leave. "Was there something you wanted to talk about Tzuyu?"

Sana does not leave, instead she sits on your lap again and watch the conversation of you and Tzuyu.

'Really, but so far I see both of your subordinates are having relationships with you, is this the reason why you not get me in your team?' Tzuyu smirks

'I come for the deal, I wanna know when you will get me in, the deal should be honored.'

"I know and I'm working on something. The only problem is that your boss wants someone in return and I'm not willing to hand over Mina. So I'm trying to think of something else."

'Not willing to hand over Mina, cause she can only fucked by you huh?' Tzuyu keeps her unemotional face.

'Would you mind telling me what you are working tho? I need some guarantees.'

"That’s understandable. Sana here had mentioned previously she would be willing to be traded so that might be the only option. I doubt your boss would be willing to take any other team member."

'So you are not giving up Mina, but you will let Sana go? Is it mean Mina is more important?' Tzuyu smiles playfully.

Sana turns her head around, pretending she doesn't care. 'It's ok, I would like to try different men's cock, so...'

"I treasure both of them, the difference is I know Sana can take care of herself. She's a strong and beautiful woman. Mina would be put in more danger." I respond

'Boss...' Sana is touched by your response, she grabs you for a kiss.

'Tzuyu is watching, Sana.' You break the kiss and try to stop her.

'She already knows, what are you afraid of?' Sana ignores you and kisses you again.

'Umm.' You two end the kiss only after hearing Tzuyu makes some noise to let you know she is still here.

'Don't miss me, boss. I believe that old man's cock wouldn't be good as you.' Sana smirks

'Yes, his cock is just useless...' Tzuyu finds she is talking something inappropriate 'Sorry, I am not meaning that.'

I let out a laugh, "You're free to speak your mind Tzuyu, but yes that is the plan. I'll go and speak to your boss early next week."

'If that old man is useless, I bet Y/N must can satisfy you then.' Sana looks at Tzuyu playfully.

'No, I am not meaning that. I did not let him fuck me...' Tzuyu blushes and whispers

'I guess Tzuyu can replace me to serve boss while I am not here, right?' Sana stands up and walking to Tzuyu.

'Why don't you show us how you would serve the old man at usual.' Sana grabs her jaw and force Tzuyu to look at her.

"Sana, let her go. We're not going to force her into anything."

'Did anyone forced you, Tzuyu?' Sana asks.

'No, no one forced me, even that old man, is me seduced him in the interview.' Tzuyu's face is still red.

"Haha, good job using your skills Tzuyu. Is that all you came for, though? To make sure I held up my part?"

'Yes, I guess that's all I am coming for. But do you need me to show how can I work for you?' Tzuyu smirks and assault Sana's tits suddenly.

'Ah!' Sana moans as Tzuyu catches her tits.

"That's completely up to you Tzuyu. If you choose to, do it quickly." I respond while watching Sana and Tzuyu.

'Why we should go quick, you can enjoy it slowly.' Tzuyu releases Sana and start walking to you.

'So beautiful.' You talk to yourself, Tzuyu seems to be another person when she is seducing other man, you finally understand why that old man would fall into Tzuyu's temptation so easily, she is really a Helen of Troy. You already throw Dahyun out of your mind.

The sound of her high heels knocking on your heart, you like a wood that could not react until she is sitting on your lap, she grabs your hands and puts on her exposed thigh, slowly rubbing it. 'Welcome to Thighwan.' Tzuyu whispers in your ear.

I can't help but laugh, "I'm sorry but that's just too funny." I squeeze her thighs gently, "you have great thighs but that pun was just so unnecessary."

Tzuyu ignores you and keeps guiding your hands to rub her thigh. Your cock is erecting without her touch, the mood is so horny around Tzuyu. You start to breathe heavier as she continue to tease you.

You are surprised that how good is Tzuyu in seducing men, your lust slowly taking over you, you can feel pain from your cock as it is fully erected. You kiss Tzuyu's neck fiercely, smelling her scent, your hand is still rubbing her thigh even she stop guiding you. You turn into a breast that want to swallow Tzuyu.

I glance at Sana and then move my eyes back to Tzuyu multiple times hoping she understands that she should join in. At the same time I spread Tzuyu's legs open and rub my hand against her panties. "Would you like to continue?"

'If you want to continue, remove your hand, my body is free for use, except for holes in bottom.' Tzuyu moves your hands back to her thigh, pretending nothing has happened.

Sana comes around and grabs Tzuyu's head for kiss, while you still kissing her neck, one of your hands is still rubbing Tzuyu's thigh, and your other hand is teasing Sana's clit. While Tzuyu is focusing on Sana's tits, she didn't forget you, she adjusts her ass so her ass cheek is gripped and starts rubbing you.

Tzuyu is just like a living aphrodisiac, keep triggering the lust of you and Sana.

I strip Tzuyu of her top and start playing with her breasts with one hand, the other spanks her lightly.

Sana is the first one to reach orgasm, she can't contain anymore as you and Tzuyu are playing her at the same time.

'Ah....' Sana's legs are shaking as Tzuyu even increases her pace after Sana peaks.

Seeing this horny scene, you feel you are reaching your peak soon. Tzuyu feels your cock throbbing, and she grinds you harder. You close your eye and kiss her neck hardly, while your hands are grabbing her tits harder.

I pinch and pull on her nipples as I feel myself get closer to my orgasm.

Tzuyu knows exactly what you need, she starts moaning to make you even more excited. 'Cum for me.'

When you think you are going to enjoy another orgasm of the day, Tzuyu stops and brings Sana to the sofa, hanging you out at the seat, not allowed to cum.

You could already feel your cum reach your tip and ready to splash all over Tzuyu's back, but you were denied. Tzuyu points at the clock, it's just within 2 minutes since you start dry fucking her, you have never tried to cum so fast, Tzuyu is just a woman that is made for sex and no man could resist.

I stand up and go to Sana, flipping her over and pulling out her butt plug. After that I immediately ram my cock into her ass until I fill her with cum again. I put the plug back afterwards.

Sana just lays on the sofa and let you fuck you fuck her. You cum immediately when you put in, 'Oh....' Sana's body shivers as you deliver your cum in her ass, you pull out and insert the plug again, let your seed remain in her ass.

Tzuyu walks behind you and start jerking you off again, 'Enter her ass without lubrication? How horny you are? I thought you are going to enjoy my service.'

Maybe because it's Tzuyu, your cock is back to full hardness when she touches your cock, her hand feels like heaven, and you feel like you could cum at any time.

"Sana's ass is already lubricated." I respond.

'Oh, I don't expect you prefer ass more.' Tzuyu whispers in your ear, her hand is still stroking you.

Feeling your cock starts to throb again, Tzuyu asks' Do you wanna cum now, or you want to have more fun first?'

"It’s not that I prefer ass, Sana here wanted it there." I lightly smack her thighs, "let's have a little more fun."

'So, maybe you should finish it on my ass first.' Tzuyu kneels on Sana, and aligns your cock into her ass cheek, starts rubbing you again just like before.

Meanwhile, Tzuyu bites Sana's nipples and makes her moan again. Seeing two girls playing with each other makes you go wild, and you move your hips faster for more pleasure.

I grab onto Tzuyu's hips and start thrusting between her cheeks faster until I spill my load onto her back

Tzuyu arcs her back so you can shoot on her more easily, waves of cum you are shooting on her, some of them even lands on her hair. You grab her ass and use it as the platform for your shooting.

Tzuyu turns around when she feels you are finished, she fixed her cummed hair into a tail, you see the mess caused by you, and you feel horny again. You don't understand why, but your body has responded for you, and your cock start to harden again.

Tzuyu grabs it and stroking it again without hesitate, 'Seems you are enjoying my service, don't you? Guess I am a qualified team member now.'

"Not completely, but I won't push you any further."

'Why still further? I can make you happy without letting you enter me. You can't even hold on for 3 minutes when I rub you.' Tzuyu smirks and keeps stroking you, you moan her name from the sensation, and you can feel you are ready for orgasm again.

'See? Men could always have fun without entering me. Even My dad.' Tzuyu playfully squeezes and your cock pulse.

"Part of the fun is making the other person feel good too. It's not just meant to be me feeling good."

'Every man I met want to fuck me, from my classmates, teachers, and even my dad, I guess you are not different with them.' Tzuyu starts rubbing your tips as she feels you are reaching the orgasm.

'Oh Tzuyu... I am going to cum.' Your legs shake as she continues to rub your sensitive spots. You grab her meaty thigh harder.

'But I think it's more fun for me to see Men desperately want to fuck me, but they would just beg me to let them cum at the end. I guess I want to hear it now.' Tzuyu stops stroking you and instead teases you when you are one step from the orgasm.

"That maybe fun to you but I only feel it's right that you feel the same type of pleasure I'm feeling. If that’s all then you can go." I say as I resist Tzuyu.

'It's all excuse that you want to fuck me, leave it to your secretary. You are not gonna cum if you keep doing that. Say the word.' Tzuyu's hands move so quickly but keep giving you enough pleasure to maintain at the edge of orgasm, you cock can't catch her, and you seems just thrusting in the air. Sana can't stop to smirk as she never see you are so frustrated.

"Of course, I want to fuck you, but you made it quite clear you don't want that. You even seem to feel superior about it, quite trashy if I do say so. You can leave now." I say as I pull away from her and dress myself.

'How do you know I won't let you fuck me if you beg for it.' Tzuyu said as she removes the last piece of clothes, she is fully naked now, and your eye scanned her body, from her mid-size tits, her abs, her great hips, her meaty thighs, and her long legs. You back to the head and see her seductive face. Your bulge in your pants becomes even bigger. The existence of Tzuyu is already a temptation, you now understand what she said, every man she met will definitely want to fuck her.

Tzuyu walks to you and slowly caresses your bulge, 'Are you sure you going to leave now? You are not going to have a second chance.'

"You're the type that'll make me beg and then not give it to me. I know that for certain." I respond. "Don't try to tell me otherwise."

'If you beg, you could at least cum, right?' Tzuyu squeeze your bulge before stepping away and start dressing.'

'I am glad that you can hold on, you are the first one who can do it. No one can resist me in the past, that's why I am still a virgin.'

'I guess you should leave with your bulge maybe. Don't help him, Sana. Let him suffer the pain of allowing to cum, let him know girls are not belong to men.' Tzuyu says when she approaches the door.

"She is going to be annoying," I say to myself. "You're free to go if you'd like Sana"

'She is fun, isn't she? She is so beautiful and skillful, I am turned on immediately after she touched me. I see you are too? You cum 2 times in 5 minutes! I never see you cum that quickly. She is just born for sex, no matter whether male or female would fall to her. I am looking forward to playing with her again.'

'It's a shame I can't see Tzuyu showcasing her skill more, do you need me to help you before I off work? Or you want to leave it for tomorrow' Sana points at your bulge, it is not as big as you are playing with Tzuyu, it's still obvious that your cock need to be free.

"If you wouldn't mind Sana. This time I want to cum in your pussy though."

'Sure, boss. Just do it in the way you like.' Sana sits on your desk and uncover her skirt, you can see her pussy is wet already.

I slide my cock between her pussy lips a few times before thrusting into Sana. I pull Sana into a kiss. "I'll miss you, Sana. Tomorrow we'll spend the entire day fucking."

'Ah, Miss me already when you are still fucking me?' Sana returns to your kiss. ' I will be happy if you have the stamina to fuck me the whole day tomorrow, get some rest tonight, ok? Don't fuck other girls and leave the cum for me.' Sana grabs your ass and pushes you towards her.

I continue thrusting into Sana, joking "weren't you saying to fuck Dahyun just a little while ago?"

'I wouldn't mind you go to fuck her, but you can't cum. From now until the end of tomorrow, all your cum should be dedicated for me, ok?' Sana starts licking your nipple to give you more pleasure.

'You can bring Dahyun come tomorrow, let her know how bad her Oppa is.'

"I'm not doing that Sana," I pick up my pace and ram my cock deeper into Sana, "tell me when you're going to cum"

'Why huh? Afraid your image of good Oppa will collapse?' Sana increases her pace of grinding, she tenses her pussy for milking you.

'If you bring Dahyun to come tomorrow, I can create a chance for you to fuck her, but you need to come for me again, deal?'

"I'm not going to bring Dahyun, Sana." I pull on Sana's hips and hold her down while I start to piston in and out of Sana's pussy.

'You gonna fuck her in mind for the rest of your life huh?' Sana bites your nipple lightly, make you to moan.

'Dahyun is cumming, Oppa, faster!' Sana starts the role play again as she sees you refuse to admit the fact.

"Fuck, I'm gonna cum. Take it all Sana!" I say I bury cock deep inside her and start to cum inside her.

'Yes, Oppa, give a kid to Dahyun! Cum in me!' Sana screams when she cums with you, you are more turned-on hearing Dahyun ask you to cum for her. The waves of cum keep splashing out from your cock, her walls presses you tightly to drain you.

'You should call me Dahyun instead of Sana, we are role-playing.' Sana rest lazily on your desk as she is recovering.

I pull out of Sana and sit down. "Yeah, sure I'll do it tomorrow if you want."

'Is you want, not I want, don't you want to fuck Dahyun huh?' Sana leaves the table and kneels to clean your cock.

The suction of Sana's mouth is really, you can feel she is sucking the remaining cum out of your cock. You pat her head and enjoy her service.

'So, how do you feel? You can fuck Sana and 'Dahyun' both tomorrow, excited?'

I force Sana down to the base of my cock. "Let's be quiet and enjoy this."

Sana has no other options as your push her deeply into your base, she now focuses on your cock and cleaning it.

You look at Sana starts to gag as your keep holding your cock in her throat.

Your phone rings and it's Momo, she should be coming for your answer. You look at the phone and think should you pick up the call.

I mute the ringtone and let Sana finish before calling Momo back when I'm alone.

Sana did not give you the chance, she strugglely grabs the phone and help you pick up the call while she is still sucking you.

The speaker is on, and there is only silence, after a while Momo finally speaks. 'Long time no see, how are you, Y/N?'

"Doing better, how are you?"

'No, no good, very bad when I am not with you.' Momo answers you on the other side of the phone.

You try to answer her but Sana is keep teasing you, you don't want Momo suspect anything as you think you will start to moan.

The call is silence again, you brain is fully functioning while you enjoy Sana's intense blow job.

'Y/N?' Momo asks again.

"I'm sorry Momo, just a bit busy with work. I also don't know what to say"

'So you don't have anything that you want to say? such as our relationship.' Momo asks again.

Sana's faces show that she is waiting for the drama, but she increases her intensity at the same time.

You are excited at this scenario which you two may get caught, your breath become heavier.

'Hey ,Y/N, are you listening to me?'

"Momo there are a lot of things I want to say but I don't know how to say them. I think that we should meet up some day next week. This weekend doesn't work for me unfortunately."

Sana seems not satisfied by your answer, she wants more drama. Sana let your cock go, and start rides you.

You try to push away Sana, but she just put a finger on her lips and tell you to be quiet, meanwhile she bite her lips to prevent let out moan.

'I want to see you now, Y/N. I just miss you so much.'

'Sorry, I need to pick up my step sister tonight, I am really not free.

'Umm... Um.....' Sana reaches orgasm first in this excited scenario, her juice splashing all over your cock, you can't hold on anymore, you push deeper and cum in her.

Momo seems noticed something as she hear your tone so strange, and she could hear some sounds from you and Sana's body when Sana rides you.

'You ok? Y/N, is there someone next to you?'

"I have a co-worker with me, I'm trying to juggle two things at once. Sorry, give me a minute to call you back." I hang up before Sana has a chance to stop me.

'Damn, it's so excited. I love it.' Sana starts to catch her breath after you end the call.

'I'm so high, she nearly caught us. Can you feel how tight I am?' Sana says while grinding you again.

'Maybe we can call Dahyun tomorrow while we are fucking.'

"Get dressed and get out Sana. We'll talk tomorrow." I say very seriously.

Sana gets up from your lap and kisses you, 'Remember get some rest tomorrow, I hope both of us can't walk on Sunday, see you tomorrow.' Sana then get dressed and leave your room.

#minasaiyatis #twice smut #girl group smut #kpop smut #female idol smut #m reader #twice imagines #momo smut #sana smut #tzuyu smut #twice momo #twice sana #twice tzuyu

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harrysfolklore · 1 year ago

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Harry Styles Answers the Web's Most Searched Questions | WIRED

this was posted on my patreon a few months ago, enjoy ! MASTERLIST | MY PATREON

"Hi I'm Harry Styles and this is the Wired Autocomplete Interview."

Harry introduced himself to the camera and you smiled, you were currently at WIRED Studios for Harry's long awaited autocomplete interview that he finally agreed to do thanks to yours and his fans persistence.

You were sitting behind the camera with the rest of the crew, watching him with a small smile.

A crew member passed the first board to him, he looked at it confusedly for a minute before speaking.

"Okay so. I'm answering what I think or what?"

Everyone in the studio laughed and the director quickly explained to him how the game worked once again, you rolled your eyes with affection and he sent a wink your way.

"Alright, how is Harry Styles?" he said after taking the little piece of paper off the board, "I'm good, I'm really enjoying being home in London, I was away for a while on tour and I'm going to stay here for a bit so that's exciting."

"How did Harry Styles," he paused to rip the next paper and reveal the rest of the question, "Become famous? Well, when I was sixteen years old I auditioned for a singing show called The X Factor, I got put in a band with four lads and we didn't win but we put out a song called What Makes You Beautiful," he smiled for a second, "that one put us on the map, we released a bunch of albums and now I'm here."

"How did Harry Styles meet his wife?" at this, he turned his gaze to you to give you a big smile, you immediately mirrored his and nodded your head, signaling that you were okay with him talking about it.

"We could say that it was basically a blind date, we had a friend in common who thought we would be a good match and set us up, we had an amazing first date but then I had to travel to Los Angeles for work so we couldn't really see each other after that but once I was back in London we hung out all the time, and now we're married."

He smiled at you again and you couldn't help but feel your heart melt, you had been married for 6 months now but the married life was still new for the both of you, and everything he called you his wife butterflies made its way to your stomach.

"How is Harry Styles still alive?" his eyes widened in surprise and he looked around the room, making a few present laugh, "Um, that's a weird thing to search on the internet, but I guess, I don't know if I can answer that, I don't think anyone can answer that we're just lucky to still be around and enjoy life."

He gave the camera one of his infamous "frog smiles" and handed the board to a crew member who was ready with the next one.

"Does Harry Styles have tattoos?" he revealed the first question of the new board, "Yes, he does. I have a lot of tattoos actually, they're basically all over my body. The most recent one is right here," he pointed at the back of his right arm, "It's my wedding date, actually, everyone might call me a sap but I was reserving this arm for tattoos about my wife a and future kids, so I guess it's finally time to fill it."

It was safe to say that fans watching at home and everyone in the studio absolutely melted, especially you.

"Does Harry Styles have siblings? I do I have a sister, she's older than me and her name is Gemma. A lot of people claim she's cooler than me for some reason but I don't thing that's true," he shrugged and revealed the next question, "Does Harry Styles speak Italian? I would like to think that I do, I spend a lot of time there and I've learned how to communicate pretty decently."

"Is Harry Styles an actor?" he said after peeling the first sticker of the new board, "He tries to be an actor that's for sure," he laughed and everyone in the room did as well, "I mean, I've been in a couple of movies, I've auditioned for a bunch of roles and my agent has sent me scripts to go through," he shrugged "So I can say that makes me an actor."

"Is Harry Styles american?" he shook his head at that one, "He is not! He's Britain, born and raised okay? He's very proud of it."

"What's Harry Styles BeReal? I don't have a BeReal, but if I did I wouldn't tell you," he pointed to the camera jokingly, "What are Harry Styles fans called? I think they are referred to as Harries, but I don't like to speak on behalf of them, you should ask them."

"What was Harry Styles first song? My first song was Sign Of The Times, I wrote it with friends that I love, and that is my wife's favorite song I've ever written, right love?"

"That's correct." you said from your spot, pretty audible so you know it would make it to the final cut of the interview.

"What are Harry Styles songs about?" he peeled the last sticker of the board, "They're about a lot of things, life, friends, love, my wife," he shrugged, "I even have one about the female orgasm."

You quietly giggled, knowing that his fans would go crazy over that last sentence.

"Did Harry Styles go to college? He did not, he became a singer."

"Did Harry Styles win a Grammy? He somehow won Album Of The Year last year, which is absolutely insane if you ask him."

"Did Harry Styles finish high school? Oh I'm glad the internet asks," he laughed, "Contrary to popular belief I did finish high school, I completed my GCES and I graduated, I don't know why there's a rumor there that I didn't finish high school tho."

"Anyway, last one!" he comically threw the board to the floor and grabbed the final board a crew member was handling him, "Who is Harry Styles best friend? Um, I have a ton of best friends. Jeff who's also my manager, Mitch who plays in my band, my childhood best friend's name is Johnny, so yeah, I'm very lucky in the friends department, I love my friends."

"Who does Harry Styles look like? My mom, I would say. A lot of people point out that we have the same smile," he shrugged, "My mom is a beautiful woman so I'm flattered."

"Who did Harry Styles write Love Of My Life about? My wife and London."

"And final question," he slowly peeled off the sticker for dramatic effect, "Who does Harry Styles love? Okay, that's cute that people search for that on the internet, um, I love my family and friends, I love my wife that's for sure, I love making music and performing," he listed with his fingers, "And love love, yeah, love is great."

He smiled to the camera and put the board aside to say his goodbyes.

"I thought my Google searches were much more appropriate that I expected. I was fun to see what people wonder about me, so yeah thank you WIRED for having me."

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onbearfeet · 2 months ago

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In Which the Wizard School Books Are a Hammer

Okay. I'm gonna tell this story once, and only once, because I think it might help people who are struggling to finally, FINALLY boot J.K. Rowling from their lives.

I can't precisely say I sympathize, but I definitely know how you feel, because I have already had to do this dance with someone I guarantee you've never heard of. I've had all the feelings you've had. I had to find a way through all by myself, and now I'm going to help you so you have an easier time. Okay? Okay.

Content warning: discussion of child sexual abuse (mentioned but not described in detail).

So there's this writer. I refuse to speak or write his name these days, so we'll call him Evil Bob. ("Bob" is my default placeholder name, and this Bob is evil.) Evil Bob was a damn good writer and, frankly, an underappreciated one in his time. I picked up a few of his projects out of the bargain bin on impulse when I was about 12, and after that he was one of my names to conjure with. If Evil Bob had written it, I wanted to read it. He had a kind of perfect workman's style--he did a lot of things pretty well, and he did them in such a way that a bright 12-year-old could see how the trick was done. I learned a lot of basic writerly technique from Evil Bob--things about dialogue and pacing and how to convey character through action and lots of other stuff. Evil Bob unlocked something in my brain, and I really blossomed as a young writer by applying the lessons of his work.

Evil Bob's fiction started to fall off in popularity eventually, so he switched to nonfiction and wrote a damn good history book that won a lot of awards. I read it in college. The man could really interview, I tell you what.

I even got to interview Evil Bob myself, eventually. I was working for a small magazine that wanted to publish an article about a certain minority group's representation in a certain fiction genre, and Evil Bob had written one of the seminal works in that niche, so I tracked down his contact info, called him up, and we had a lovely hourlong chat. He was kind and gracious and funny and --

Yeah, this is where you learn why I named him Evil Bob.

A few years ago, people in Evil Bob's old fiction genre started circulating a list of, shall we say, disgraced writers in the field. Think of it like a MeToo list. The list got passed around every time a new name was added, and at a certain point, after a much more famous name had just been added to it, the list crossed my feed for the first time in a while. I dutifully scanned down it in case there was anyone on it I'd missed; after all, I attended conventions for this genre, and some of these fuckers were on the list for assaulting fans like me, so I wanted to know who to watch out for.

And there, in the middle of the list, was Evil Bob.

Weird, I thought. Evil Bob had seemed chill when I spoke to him, and usually, being 22 with big boobs (as I was when I interviewed him) brought out the perv in these guys if there was any perv to bring out. Well, maybe this was something else--maybe he used a slur on an old tape or something. I googled.

It was something else, all right.

As I sat there googling, Evil Bob was sitting in a federal prison a thousand miles away. He was there because, according to his Wikipedia page, he had been convicted of having so many CSA images on his hard drive that the judge in his case became physically ill. Honestly, I want to know where he got a hard drive that big in the year he was arrested, but I absolutely will not be asking him.

Evil Bob was EVIL. Fuck the carceral state, but also never let that particular dude near kids or a computer again.

So now I had a problem. I was going to stop buying Evil Bob's stuff, obviously--I would drop the man like a hot potato--but I couldn't so easily remove his influence on me. I'll never be 12 years old and digging through the quarter bin at the used bookshop again. There's no way to re-learn the foundations of my artform without Evil Bob. The bastard is part of me, whether I like it or not. He's left his fingerprints on my brain. And while I have negative interest in creating my own criminal hard drive, it's a little hard to shake the irrational guilt (especially since I had been raised in a high-control religious environment where any contact with sin could permanently stain one's soul, and Evil Bob's writing was part of how I escaped, and--you get the idea). I couldn't shed the stink of Evil Bob. I'd written that article. I was covered in the fuckin' ooze.

I'll spare you the six months of angst and self-flagellation. I've been to therapy since this happened. Here's what I eventually decided:

Evil Bob is like a hammer.

My dad gave me an old hammer when I moved out, along with some other miscellaneous hand tools in a paper bag. I bought a toolbox, I put the tools in it, and I use them when I need tools. My dad is an asshole who abused his children, but a hammer is a hammer. Scratch the previous owner's name off the handle, and you can build a pretty fine house with it.

What I learned from Evil Bob are the tools of a trade, and tools are not inherently evil. He taught me how to put sentences together--but I decide what my sentences say. He showed me how to convey character--but I choose what I'm conveying. He made me a writer--but I'm the one writing now.

So I still use Evil Bob's tools, with his name scoured off. I still teach some of those lessons, but he's the one source I don't cite. Oh, that dialogue hack? I picked it up in grad school, pinky swear. Here, let me share it with you for free, with no credit or compensation to the bastard who taught it to me.

I won't pretend Evil Bob wasn't an influence on my younger self, but you'll never hear me speak his legal name. I was one of the few people who really counted themselves fans of his work ... and he'll never get a whisper of a hint of that support from me again. I guarantee you won't be able to track him down from this post, and that's just the way I like it. There's a reason I haven't identified what genre he wrote in, or what his seminal fiction work was about, or whom he interviewed for that prizewinning book.

Damnatio memoriae, motherfucker. This is my hammer now, and it always has been.

So how do we give JKR the Evil Bob treatment?

Unfortunately, the Terf Queen has a larger media presence than Evil Bob ever did. One sad ex-Potterhead won't be able to erase her from culture. But there's a lot more than one of you, isn't there?

The thing is, cultural trends fade faster than you expect. Plenty of celebrities and famous artists of your parents' generation are nobodies now, and it's usually because their work spoke to your parents but not to you. I once witnessed my brother trying to read his sons a 1912 book about Spanish naval history as a bedtime story, and let me tell you, it did not go over well. Some art burns hot and bright and then it burns OUT.

The Potterheads are the parents now. Imagine how easy it would be to just ... stop talking about her. Stop buying the merch. Don't watch the new TV show or play the new game. Don't tell people you used to be a fan--not because you ought to be ashamed, but because you're not going to give her the satisfaction of saying her name. And when your kids ask about your tattoo, just tell them not to get blackout drunk in college.

Damnatio memoriae, motherfucker.

And if you feel the need to explain where you learned your kindness and courage, your unshakable loyalty to your friends (especially the trans ones), your hope in the face of overwhelming darkness ...

... why, that's your hammer. And it always has been.

#evil bob #jk rowling #fuck jkr #harry potter #dealing with grief #fuck evil bob even more than jkr #because christ that hard drive #damnatio memoriae

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mochinek0 · 3 months ago

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Daminette December: 13-In Sync

Damian arrived to Paris, using the GPS to locate his wife. She was pinged in the park, near her place. When he arrived, he saw she was surrounded by people yelling at her. A tall boy knocked her over and he quickly stepped in.

"Habibi?" Marinette questioned, as Damian helped her up.

Just as Kim was about to hit Damian, Marinette grabbed his wrist and flipped him over her shoulder. Everyone froze.

"What the fuck?" Kim whispered, still reeling from the throw.

"Since when can you do that?" Nino shouted.

"Always." Mari smiled, "It's what I was trained for."

"Who the fuck would teach someone to do that?" Alya cried out.

Damian smirked, "My mother. She made sure my wife could keep up with me."

"Wife?" Alya shouted.

"Since when are you married?" Max asked, trying to run calculations in his head.

"We were married when we were three years old." Marinette expressed, "You could call it a Political Marriage."

"Huh?" spoke Nathaniel.

"But-" began Nino.

"Our parents insisted." Mari spoke, "I just remember waking up one day and being dressed up. They walked me down a long corridor and said 'Here is your new family' and left. I never saw them again; not that I remember them, anyways."

"Tom and Sabine-" Kim groaned.

"Work for my family." Damian stated, "They ensure that she is provided for. They are not her parents or family."

The class stood silent.

"What about Adrien?" shouted Alya.

"Yeah!" Nathaniel agreed.

"You're bullying Lila because-" Kim winced, as he tried to get up

"I'm not bullying her." Marinette sighed, "She's nothing but a pathetic liar and you all keep listening to her. Even Adrien knows how pathetic she is, but he wanted her to make friends. He thought you would be smart enough to figure that out."

They looked at her confused.

"What do you mean 'smart enough'?" Max pressed.

Marinette turned to Alya, "What happened to fact checking, Alya? Does it not count when it's your best friend saying bullshit to you?"

"Huh?" Alya questioned, upset.

"Why haven't you interviewed Juleka or Luka about their father, Jagged Stone? Why haven't you gotten an exclusive, directly from the source about his 'Great niece'?" Marinette questioned.

Alya remained silent. It had never crossed her mind to get that type on interview. She didn't want to admit she had forgotten he had been there for the twins birthday a few years ago. Juleka and Lila were close; it would have been an amazing interview.

"I-" she began.

"Why didn't you interview Rose and her friendship with Prince Ali?" Mari pushed again.

"But-" Alya tried to reply.

"Or is it because they met through a children's charity event for pediatric hospitals, not an environmental project like Lila does?" Marinette continued, with a smile, "Is it any wonder that they might 'ignore me' , but not bully me, like you?"

The crowd fell silent, trying to figure out when was the last time Juleka and Rose were apart of their group.

"Half the people she talks about are dead. Half of her illnesses or disabilities don't make sense." Marinette sighed.

"Hey!" shouted Kim, but he was ignored.

"And when you look them up, they are described somehting completely different than what she claimed." Marinette pushed harder, "Why did Max never get interviewed? She saved his life, when I threw that rolled up paper napkin! I'm sure you have evidence about how deadly those can be or is it because deep down, you know it's bullshit, but you just love the attention?"

"You're lying." Alya whispered, struggling to find her voice.

"Marinette hates liars." Damian spoke.

"Should I call the authorities?" he asked, pulling out his phone.

"No Habibi." Marinette smiled, "It's alright; I just won't hold back next time."

Marinette stepped into Alya's personal space, "You better tell that Bitch, she better watch the next words that come out of her mouth because if I 'bully' her again. If she has a black eye or an injured wrist, she'll get one for real. She won't have to wear make up to pretend and this time, she'll wear the proper braces on her 'injuries'."

Alya's breath hitched. Marinette had never been this forward about her dislike of Lila.

"Same goes for all of you." Mari spoke, taking a step back and smiled, "You touch me, I'll break what you need most. Nathaniel's dominant hand. For Kim, a leg for swim practice. Maybe some head phones, a cellphone, or an AI. I'm done playing nice with people who are not my friends."

"Well, we'll sue you!" Alya cried out, thinking it would scare Mari.

Damian smirked, "I haven’t introduced myself; I'm Damian Wayne, son of CEO Wayne Enterprises. I'd shape up if I were you, Miss Blogger. We do not hire tabloid reporters at the Daily Planet."

"Huh?" Alya questioned, feeling the floor give out underneath her.

Damian made sure she had her full attention on him, "You bullied my wife and heiress to the Wayne fortune. The same Waynes who own the Daily Planet. She informed me it was your dream job, I believe, Habibiti."

Mari scoffed, "Don't bother putting my name down, as a reference, if you still want that job. Better shape up now, before it's too late."

Damian nodded, "Lois is very thorough in her investigations."

Alya said nothing as they walked away. The few there, realized they had messed up. Marinette had let them walk all over her; she built up their confidence and torn them down in five minutes.

Adrien quickly removed the miraculous of destruction, tossing it to his floor. He clutched his hand in pain, a faint pink glow around his ring finger.

"Plagg." He hissed, "What's going on?"

Plagg stared at him and then floated down towards his ring, "Ladybug……found her soulmate."

"I know!" he shouted, as his hand continued to throb, "I'm-"

"It's not you, Kid." Plagg announced.

"Huh?" Adrien questioned, forgetting the pain.

"That's why the ring made you take it off." he answered, "You are no longer worthy of it."

"No!" Adrien shouted, "That…That can't be true!"

Adrien reached for Plagg and the miraculous, but as soon as he touched it, he felt burned again. The pain, so intense, it made him drop to his knees.

Plagg looked at him, writhing in pain, "I'm sorry, Adrien. I really did like you." before flying out the window.

"Plagg!" Adrien cried out, "Come back!" but he didn't listen.

Plagg entered Marinette's room with his ring. From the shadows, Damian emerged, startling the Kwami of Destruction. Plagg cackled and dropped the ring in his palm.

He turned to Marinette, "He's good."

Mari smiled, "He's my husband."

As Damian slipped the ring on his finger, a jolt went through them. Tikki and Plagg looked at each other.

"You are finally in sync, with your soulmate." Tikki announced.

"The kind of soulmate Chat Noir kept insisting we were?" Marinette questioned, looking to her husband.

"Yep." Plagg cackled, "That's the one. Kid had it right; it just wasn't him."

'I'm glad our honeymoon is finally coming around.'

'Is that right?'

"You ….You can-" Marinette began, blushing red.

'Read your mind? Yes; as can you.'

Damian picked up Marinette and placed her on his lap.

"I love you." he whispered.

Marinette kissed him, lightly on the lips, "I love you, too."

'You only need to wait a little longer, Habibi, and soon you will be home with me.'

'I know your mother's rule, Habibi. Soon your marriage will be official and I will never have to leave your side.'

'I shall remain in Paris until we defeat Hawkmoth.'

'Gotham won't know what hit them upon our arrival.'

'I wonder what Father's face will look like.'

Marinette giggled an curled deeper into her husband's embrace.

"You think he'll like me?" she whispered.

"Whether he does or not, you are my wife and I will follow you." Damian responded, "We will go where you are comfortable."

'As long as I have you, nothing matters.'

@maribat-calendar-events

TAG LIST- DAMINETTE: @meme991001 @umbreon-worshipper @stainedglassm @jasmine-the-fox @psychicdelusionwerewolf @vixen-uchiha @mysteriouschar @missmadwoman @kanamexzeroyaoifangirl @dissarraymania @tundra1029 @abrx2002 @mrsjacuinde @ledalasombra @animegirlweeb

UNSPECIFIED- @animeweebgirl @a-star-with-a-human-name @alysrose-starchild @fandom-trapped-03 @dood-space @moonlightstar64 @saltymiraculer @marveldcedits20 @09shell-sea09 @icerosecrystal @insane-fangirl-of-everything @blueblossombliss @nickristus-dreamer @megawhitleycalderonpaganus @tigresslily @legodetectivemalsblog

#daminette december #daminette december 2024 #damian wayne #marinette dupain cheng #marinette x damian #damian x marinette #arranged marriage #marinette al ghul #mlb x dc #dc x mlb #mochinek0 #soulmates #in sync #protective marinette #marinette is done #mind readers #tikki #plagg

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formulakracing · 1 year ago

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the (not so subtle) art of a crush - t.w.

pairing: female driver!reader x toto wolff

word count: 777

warnings: toto being down bad, some teasing, sexual innuendos, one-sided yearning, yadayadayada

a/n: this was a request made by an anon (i believe!) this is also sort of a spin-off of fanboy behavior, which i absolutely adored writing. i think yearning (and well.. down bad) toto is my favorite toto to write! i hope y'all enjoy! <3

"and tell me," the driver's accent is crisp as he licks his lips, "why do you need help creating an instagram account again?"

"nothing major," a figure shrugs, fiddling with a loose thread in his wrinkled white polo, "i just want to stay in the loop. that's all."

"toto," a new voice chimes in, "you have never once mentioned wanting an instagram, or any social media really, until now. what is going on?"

"nothing major," toto wolff exhales, rolling his eyes, "you all have it, so why can't i?"

"because you're ancient?" lewis hamilton scoffs, arching a brow, "you're probably going to need a step-by-step tutorial on how to navigate the platform."

"i think i can figure that one out myself you know," toto hisses, jaw clenching as his drivers stare blankly, "if five year-olds can do it, i can do it."

"let me see your phone," george russell extends an arm, waving his fingers, "i'll get your account set up."

"i-i," the team principal stammers, heat billowing into his cheeks, "i-i don't know if i necessarily need help with that."

"are you blushing?" lewis purses his lips, a devious smirk forming as the dots connect, "mate, do you have something in there that you don't want us to see?"

only approximately one hundred and two screenshots of a certain williams driver. three or four videos. all of which were screen recordings from various interviews.

his cherished clips. ones he watched every night before he drifted off.

all of which were not tucked away into the hidden folder of his camera roll.

speaking of which, he may have to figure out how to do that. with three kids, an ex-wife, and two nosy drivers, his phone was an easy target. he probably needed to set up a passcode as well.

the lengths he was going to over a crush. a fucking crush.

well, was it a really a crush?

or more like an infatuation?

that was a question for another time. he had two drivers in his office at the moment, circling around him like vultures, eager to pick him apart.

"nothing of your interest," toto retorts, in a vain attempt to maintain his composure, "nothing, really."

"got someone's nudes in there?" lewis coos, tilting his head, "or even worse, a sex tape?"

"lewis," george brings a hand to his temple, "what on earth is wrong with you?"

"what, mate?" lewis throws his hands in the air, "i'm just giving him shit."

"shit he clearly does not want," george mutters, "toto, if you need help setting up an account, just facetime me. don't try to text me. it's much easier to explain over a call than written directions."

"or he can just go on wikihow," lewis offers, "they have guides on just about everything."

oh, really?

did they have a guide on how to navigate the unbearable weight of yearning for a woman thirty years your junior? a woman on a rival team? a crush so bad that it was beginning to snake its way into every aspect of your life? consume your every waking thought?

a crush so intense that you had already spoken to members of the williams crew?

his next target was james, whom he was planning on meeting and speaking with after the next press conference. that was in about a week's time, at third grand prix of the season.

fuck, this was embarrassing, really.

but he wanted more.

actually, he needed more.

he craved it.

he needed to gather all of the possible information and intel as he could. her likes and dislikes. her favorite foods and the ones that were so vile they made her throw up. what kept her up at night. what music she preferred to listen to on race day. what drinks she indulged in. what animals she loved. what made her so unbelievably pissed off she couldn't think straight.

he wanted to catch a glimpse inside of her mind.

all of the things that could possibly buzz around inside of that beautiful head.

really, he just wanted to learn what she was composed of.

her childhood memories, the ones she spoke of with that sweet fondness in her voice. the delicate aspects of her life that she cherished, beaming from ear to ear. the things she feared. how she expressed her love. the people she adored.

everything.

he wanted to know it all.

and following her instagram account, along with her various other socials would prove to be the first step in accessing that plethora of information.

at least it was a step in the right direction.

even if his drivers were giving him hell for it.

✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧ taglist ✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧

@noooway555 @s-awturn @thatgirlthatreadswattpad @lokideservesahug @fore45fore @eattothebeatt @statuewoman @sarah10r-blog @lavenderandlace @racecardilfs @bblouifford @irishmanwhore @jhobi18 @roseandtulips @simply-the-best23

#toto wolff #toto wolff x reader #formula 1 #f1 #f1 x reader #formula 1 x reader #toto wolff x you #alkaline: female driver! x toto wolff #alkaline series #alkaline #toto wolff x y/n #formula one #mercedes amg petronas #lewis hamilton #george russell

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hughiecampbelle · 1 month ago

Text

Thunderbolts Preference: Being The Youngest Teammate

A/N: *Comes back to life after watching a new MCU movie pretending that everything is fine and I did not disappear and that I'm not the worst writer, but maybe second or third worst, when really I am deeply so very sorry for leaving, again* Enjoy my loves! Thunderbolts requests are open, I'm making a big post asap! 🖤

Bucky is used to being the oldest person in every room, but you age him another thirty, if not forty years. You're experienced, and methodical, and you do things like he would have, like he has, and it makes him queasy. When he sees just how young your face is, he regrets trying to blow up the limousine. None of them know who you are and they all definitely talk about you behind your back: who is this kid? Where did they come from? Should we let them go? As the mission continues, they're all hit with the reality that Valentina wanted to hire you for a reason. That you weren't just lucky in aim or thoughtful about how to kill, you were one of the most skilled they had ever seen. Bucky tries to take you under his wing a little. Not as fatherly as Alexei tries to be, but he does want you to know you've got someone in your corner with such a scrappy set of teammates. He confides in you about being the Winter Soldier and, in return, you share bite size pieces about your past. Your childhood spent learning to kill, to become an expert in the craft. All those years you spent along, in dangerous places, with some sort of faceless boss ordering you around. He knows you have a dark side, you all do, but you were so eager to step across the void. He doesn't want you to think that's an option when you really do have so much to live for.

Alexei immediately sees you as his child, or at least part of his responsibility. Because they only know bits and pieces of your past, Alexei assumes (rightfully so) that you missed out on normal young adult things like a first date and prom and graduating from a traditional school. Though those things can get to you, you put up a front that you'd rather be killing world leaders and cleaning up Valentina's messes. Still, he catches you doing things a younger version of yourself couldn't do, like watching cartoons on the weekends with a bowl of extremely sugary cereal or sleeping in until past noon when you know you all have somewhere to be, becoming a gremlin to wake up in the morning. Because he sees you as so small, he is jarred when reality hits that you can out drink almost all of them or that the shame room you had was you as a very young child being trained to kill. he asks if there are any normal memories of a family, siblings, of soccer games or stuffed animals, but you can't remember anything. He takes it up on himself to protect you, or at least thinking he can, when in reality you're the one saving his ass. because he lost so much with his daughters, he tries to do better by you, whether you like it or not.

Yelena and you actually become pretty close. You remind her of herself, of Tasha, and she can't help but gravitate towards you. Similar to Ava, she doesn't want to be seen as a paternal figure. You have enough of those with this team, you don't need someone else lecturing you about swearing when that's the least of your worries. You speak Russian together, along with Alexei, when you want to talk shit about the others in front of them, teaching Bob at the same time so he can be in on all the jokes. When you shut down, disappearing for hours on end, unreachable, she isn't met with worry or hostility. She knows, like a stray, you'll always come back, you just need your space. Yelena pays more attention to the little things than the others do, like when she surprises you with something sweet, a muffin or a scone and a coffee, you prefer fruits to something sweeter. Or, when you wander between 1am and 4am, she can find you re-watching old interviews and documentaries of your teammates. Part of it is gaining information, sizing them up, but mostly you just like knowing things about people. She'll sit beside you and watch, every so often watching you like she used to watch her sister.

Ava, unlike the rest of the team, doesn't see you as being so much younger than them. You're young, yes, and your baby face doesn't help, but she's not going to talk down to you or pretend you need a paternal figure when you've clearly been handling yourself well. Maybe behind closed doors or with the rest of the group, she'll be caught off guard when you make a reference to just how young you were or make a joke that doesn't sit well with her, she'd never do any of that to your face. You have just as much a right to be in this team as any of them. She adores how much you and John don't get along, which makes your bond stronger. Things aren't always sunshine and rainbows: not with any of them, but especially not you. You go days without sleeping after a night of nightmares and you lash out, trying to push everyone away because you're too damaged. Bob is the one you go to when you're feeling low, really low, but she hopes one day she'd have the honor of being confided in. You were all kids once. Some of you were relatively normal, but most of you were not. She's not going to act like because you're younger, you must want normalcy. None of you know what that's really like and she doesn't believe it's right to push that on you.

John does not like you. When you met, he thought you were some scrappy kid who snuck in and got yourself in a bad situation. That you had no idea the real danger you were in and that he had to save your ass from getting killed by Yelena, Ava, Bob, or Antonia. He tells you to get behind him and his shield and when you start a fight, he can't believe what he's hearing. Once you got to know one another, you liked him even less. He calls you Baby Assassin and questions how many kills you have given your age. You roll your eyes, eventually going into detail of some of your worst, and most famous, kills. It makes him sick thinking you were nine, ten, eleven years old doing those sorts of things. John likes to get in your face about things and you have no trouble bringing up that his wife left him, something the others might cringe at knowing how much it must hurt. You don't care. You will not be patronized by him. You're told to keep your distance and when you do unfortunately have to interact, you stick to commands without name calling. You still laugh at the fact that Bob made his shield into a taco, something that wasn't funny in the moment, but now can bring you to tears. John thinks, foolishly, because of your younger age, that you're inexperienced and impulsive, but you know that could not be further from the truth.

Bob doesn't see you as being so much younger, mostly because you're closer in age vs. 100+ year old Bucky. It does, secretly, make him feel sick that you were so eager to step into the void. That, like Yelena, you were forced to relive some of your worst and shameful memories. But, like always, you brush it off like it's nothing, like you don't really have feelings. Bob quickly becomes a confidant. You never knew anyone who felt the way you did, so low it scared you to be alone with yourself. You guys spend a lot of quiet time together. He's sure, though he'd never say, he knows the most about you, your history. You don't know why it comes out, why you say it, but he's never judged anything you've had to say. He doesn't mind when you sleep in past noon or lose important things like a gun or a grenade. He doesn't mind when you want the windows down in the car or the music you play that everyone else can't stand. He has a lot of patience with you because no one had the patience for him. It's the least he can do. You're methodical and always planning for the worst: what is everyone leaves you? What if they're all killed? Etc. If he can offer whatever comfort he will. You're not just a teammate, you're a friend.

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