#Assignment Help Hamilton | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

hamilton-here · 27 days ago

Note

Hiiii! Could you do please one where Lewis and reader are good friends though Lewis is crazy in love with her since the moment he met her but she has a boyfriend so he is just like yearning for her. Until she and her boyfriend broke up and Lewis is there for her, supporting her, being the good friend he is, helping her heal until eventually she inevitably falls in love with him too.

Thank you so much in advance for reading.

I wish you the best. Have a good day :)

𝒜𝓁𝓌𝒶𝓎𝓈 𝒴𝑜𝓊

Authors Note: Hey guys! Another request finished. I apologise, I’m slowly getting through them as fast as I can, since I got 3 new assignments recently. Still have another 6 requests to go. Lots of love xx

Summary: Lewis has been in love with his best friend since they were young. Reader doesn’t realise until a break up in adulthood.

Warnings: slight swearing

Taglist: @hannibeeblog @nebulastarr @cosmichughes

MASTERLIST

࣪𓏲ᥫ᭡ ₊ ⊹ ˑ ִ ֶ 𓂃࣪𓏲ᥫ᭡ ₊ ⊹ ˑ ִ ֶ 𓂃࣪𓏲ᥫ᭡ ₊ ⊹ ˑ ࣪𓏲ᥫ᭡ ₊ ⊹ ˑ ִ ֶ 𓂃࣪𓏲ᥫ᭡ ₊

You met Lewis in your final year of secondary school.

You’d transferred halfway through the term - a mid-year shuffle after your parents’ divorce meant moving to a new town, new house, new everything. The school was bigger than your last, louder, the kind of place where everyone already had their people. And you were just floating. Walking the halls with your headphones in, sitting alone at lunch with your tray of untouched food and a book you’d already read twice. Pretending not to notice the stares, the whispered “who’s she?” that always seemed to follow new girls around.

You were used to hiding. The chaos at home had taught you how.

What you didn’t expect was that someone else was hiding too and that someone was Lewis Hamilton.

Even then, he had that spark. Teachers called it potential. Kids called it weird. He was fast not just on the track, but in the way his mind worked, the way he doodled car parts and corner lines in the margins of his maths book. Most of the time, he was quiet. But when he smiled really smiled you could feel the air shift.

Still, he wasn’t exactly popular.

Some of the boys resented him. For being different. For being focused. For being a different skin tone in a school that only ever paid lip service to diversity. You’d seen it in the way they snickered behind his back, the way they'd "joke" about the way he talked or call him names just under the teacher's radar. Not loud enough to get caught. Just loud enough to hurt.

One day, after a PE lesson, you saw him sitting alone behind the bleachers. His uniform was crumpled, his knees pulled up to his chest, and there was a bruise blooming on his cheekbone that hadn’t been there that morning.

You didn’t say anything at first. Just sat down beside him without a word, pulling your water bottle out of your bag and handing it over.

He looked at you like he wasn’t sure if he should trust it.

“You look like you hate this place almost as much as I do,” he said, finally breaking the silence.

You huffed a breath, something between a laugh and a sigh. “Well, I haven’t exactly been given a reason to love it.”

That was the beginning.

From then on, he’d meet you by your locker before class. You started sitting next to him at lunch, not caring that some people looked confused by it. You shared music. Traded secrets. Snuck snacks into the library during free periods. He let you read his notebook full of racing dreams and engine sketches the one no one else was allowed to see. And you let him see the messier parts of you, the way your chest still ached when your mum didn’t call back, the nights you cried into your pillow wondering why everything in your life was temporary.

Somehow, with him, it stopped feeling like you were just surviving.

And for Lewis in a world that often tried to shrink him, to make him smaller, quieter you never asked him to be anything but himself.

He didn’t realise it at first. Not in any dramatic, falling-off-a-cliff kind of way. It was gradual like the way morning light fills a room without anyone noticing until it’s fully bright. One day, he was just your friend. And the next he wasn’t sure how to breathe right when you laughed too hard and leaned into his shoulder. Or why his hands always felt warmer after you touched them. Or why it suddenly mattered so much if someone else made you smile.

He never said anything. Not then.

You were still figuring yourself out and he was still trying to prove himself to the world. So, he tucked it away. Folded those feelings into the pages of his sketchbook and the spaces between texts that said, “You okay?” when he really meant, “I miss you.”

But the truth of it lived quietly in him. The way he always saved you the better half of his sandwich. The way he noticed when your voice dipped just slightly over the phone. The way he’d rather spend hours lying on your floor doing nothing than be anywhere else.

And even after school ended, even when life began tugging you both in opposite directions him into the world of fast cars and global fame, you into uni lectures and internships and early heartbreaks the thread between you never snapped.

But before all that - before all the Grand Prix’s and mechanics and podiums you remember the first time you ever went over to Lewis’s house.

It was a rainy Friday afternoon. He’d noticed the way you lingered at your locker, dreading the walk home. You hadn’t told him your mum had forgotten to pick you up again, or that you’d been surviving on cereal and vending machine snacks for the last three days. But Lewis always had a way of knowing things without you saying them.

“Come over,” he said simply, slinging his rucksack over his shoulder. “Dad’ll be cool with it. He always makes too much food anyway.”

You wanted to say no. To come up with an excuse, a lie, anything that would let you keep your walls up. But something in his eyes made it hard to retreat. So, you nodded and followed him.

The flat was small, lived-in, warm. Racing posters covered the walls, and the faint scent of motor oil clung to the air like a second skin. But it felt like home in a way yours hadn’t in a long time.

Anthony Hamilton opened the door and took one look at you drenched hoodie, tired eyes, polite smile and something in his face softened.

“This her?” he asked, glancing at Lewis.

Lewis nodded. “Yeah. This is her.”

Anthony gave a quiet little grunt of approval and stepped aside. “Well, come on in then. Hope you’re hungry.”

You’d never had someone’s father cook for you like that before. He made spaghetti and garlic bread from scratch, cracked jokes across the table, and never once made you feel like an inconvenience. When you offered to help wash up afterward, he just shook his head and said, “Nah, you’re a guest. But if you’re coming back next week, I’ll put you to work.”

And he meant it. Because you did come back. Again, and again.

Anthony always greeted you like family. Remembered your favourite snack. Asked about your exams. Called you “kid” or “trouble” and sometimes when he thought you weren’t listening - told Lewis he was lucky to have a friend like you.

Lewis didn’t argue. He just smiled, small and secret, and looked down at his plate so no one could see what he was thinking.

You didn’t realise it at the time, but that house became a kind of second home. Not perfect, but safe. A place where you weren’t just seen but looked after. A place where you were wanted.

And it all started with a bruise on Lewis’s cheek and a quiet moment behind the bleachers.

You saw each other. Really saw each other.

And Lewis? He never stopped.

Years passed. The world spun faster.

Lewis became Lewis Hamilton. A name not just whispered between classmates anymore but shouted by fans from grandstands around the world. He wasn’t just the boy who shared your revision snacks and knew all your little tells - he was a world champion. A headline. A global name carved into history.

You watched his name rise from the corner of your laptop screen, from the tiny telly in your university flat with its dodgy antenna and sagging couch cushions. He was there in the background of your life like a familiar song, in magazine covers at the supermarket checkout, in Instagram stories forwarded by old classmates with messages like, “Remember him?”

Of course you remembered.

You never forgot the boy with ink-stained fingers who used to dream out loud to you in the back row of English class, notebook filled with cars and quotes and wide-eyed ambition. You never forgot the way he listened, really listened like every word you said mattered more than the noise of the world around you.

You texted sometimes. Birthday messages. The occasional “Good luck this weekend” or “Saw you on TV — still doodling in margins?” He’d always reply sometimes within minutes, sometimes days later from the other side of the globe. A scratchy voice note from a hotel room in Tokyo. A blurry selfie at an airport gate captioned ‘Look familiar?’ His replies were always warm, always tinged with something that never quite dulled with time.

But life had swept you up too.

There was your degree - long nights in the library, surviving on caffeine and cramming. An internship that turned into your first job. Your first apartment a tiny, creaky flat with paper-thin walls and a shower that only worked when you held the handle just right. You learned how to be alone. How to make instant noodles taste like something resembling dinner. You had your share of flings, mistakes, and one heartbreak so sharp it hollowed you out for a while.

And somewhere along the way, when you weren’t looking, the years folded over each other like pages turning on their own.

Then one day, he was back.

It was off-season. A rare break in the relentless hum of engines and media. He texted out of the blue:

Lewis -

In town for a bit. You around?

You stared at the message longer than you meant to, rereading it with a pulse of warmth you hadn’t felt in a long time. You typed back “Of course. Same café?” before you could overthink it.

And just like that, it was as if nothing had changed. Like the years between you hadn’t stretched or blurred.

He was waiting at the corner table of the café you used to sneak off to after school, the one with mismatched chairs and chipped mugs, the scent of cinnamon and coffee thick in the air. He was wearing sunglasses despite the overcast skies, a hoodie pulled low trying to blend in, though he never really could.

But when he looked up and saw you, his face split into that grin. That same damn grin that used to undo you in quiet, stupid ways.

“I still owe you a sandwich,” he said, holding the door open like always. “And probably a hundred library snacks.”

You rolled your eyes, laughing as you stepped inside. “I think you’re a little behind, Hamilton. More like two hundred.”

He laughed too low and fond but there was something in his eyes now. Something quieter. Something tired. Something that flickered when you told him about your job, your flat, your recent travels. And then—

“Josh, my boyfriend,” you said, smiling as you stirred your tea. Like it was the most natural thing in the world. Like it didn’t shift the ground beneath his feet.

Lewis didn’t flinch. Not visibly. But his fingers paused their slow tapping against the ceramic mug. Just for a second.

“Good guy?” he asked, voice soft.

You nodded, totally unaware. “Yeah. He’s great. Smart, steady. He makes me laugh. We’re thinking of moving in together next year, actually.”

And just like that, Lewis folded it all back in again.

The ache. The slow, quiet longing that had bloomed again the moment he saw you walk through that café door. The way you’d tilted your head at him and smiled like no time had passed it had unmoored him. For a moment, it had felt like something was beginning again.

He had been falling for you not with the reckless speed of youth, but with the slow, aching certainty of adulthood. The kind of falling that doesn’t feel like falling at all just coming home.

But he said nothing.

Instead, he asked about Josh. Nodded when you told him how you met. Chuckled when you shared some awkward first date story. He laughed in all the right places and nodded at all the wrong ones, because it was the only thing he could do. Pretend it didn’t crush him every time you casually used the word we.

Because he remembered the way you used to lean your head against his shoulder during revision breaks, the way you once cried into his hoodie over a boy who never deserved your tears. The way he used to think even back then — Maybe one day. And the way that day had never come.

He’d waited for the right moment once.

But life got loud, and time got away from him.

So, he backed off.

He was good at that slipping out of reach without causing a ripple. Letting you shine while he drifted just outside your orbit. He’d mastered that balance on the track, and now he practiced it with you letting his love for you live in the space between what could’ve been and what still was.

Still, he stayed.

The friend. The constant. The voice at the other end of the phone when your car battery died or when Josh forgot your anniversary and you didn’t want to make it a thing. He was the one who sent you memes at 2 a.m. when you couldn’t sleep. The one who always answered, even when the call came in the middle of a media day.

Because being near you even like this was better than being without you.

And maybe, deep down, a part of him still hoped. Not for now. Not even for soon. But for someday. Some quiet, unpromised someday when maybe the timing would finally be right.

Because the thread between you might’ve frayed with time, pulled taut with distance and different lives…

But it had never quite snapped.

Lewis started to notice it in the little things.

The way your smile didn’t quite reach your eyes when you talked about Josh anymore. How you used to light up when saying his name, voice soft, full of something warm and certain. Now, it caught on your tongue, like you weren’t sure it belonged there anymore. The way you once laughed a short, sharp sound with no real humour behind it - when Lewis casually asked if the move-in plans were still happening.

He didn’t press. He never did. But he paid attention.

He always had, when it came to you.

You met for coffee now and then, like you used to. Familiar places, familiar drinks. Life was busier now with race schedules, deadlines, missed calls that turned into half-hearted apologies but somehow, your paths kept circling back to each other, like gravity was doing its quiet work behind the scenes.

You told him stories. You always had stories. But lately, they came with longer pauses. You’d drift mid-sentence, distracted by something unsaid. You talked about work, about weekend plans, about Josh but more often now, Lewis noticed the searching in your voice, like you were digging for something good to say and couldn’t quite find it. And when you couldn’t, you’d just smile a little too tightly and change the subject.

Then came the texts.

Late-night ones, mostly. Sometimes after races. Sometimes at the end of an ordinary Tuesday.

You up?

Can I vent for a sec?

Is it bad that I don’t feel excited anymore?

Lewis never asked what had happened. Never dug into what Josh had said or done that night. He just answered, every time. It didn’t matter if he was in another country or a hotel room between races. If you needed him, he was there.

When Josh started missing the important days your birthday dinner, your sister’s graduation, the quiet night in you’d planned for weeks Lewis watched you try to hold the pieces together. You always gave Josh the benefit of the doubt. “He’s just stressed.” “He said he’ll make it up to me.”

But your voice cracked more each time you said it.

And when you said, “He’s just busy,” Lewis heard what you didn’t say:

So am I. But I still show up.

The night it all broke, you didn’t call.

It was Luna, your girl best friend, who messaged him instead, her words stumbling in a rush of panic:

She found him with someone else. She’s not okay. Please can you go? I don’t think she wants me right now.

Lewis didn’t hesitate. He didn’t think about the early call time he had the next morning or the interview he’d probably miss. He just grabbed his keys, shoved on a hoodie, and drove.

When you opened the door, you didn’t speak.

Your eyes were red-rimmed and glassy, lashes still damp. Hair pulled up carelessly. A hoodie too big for you hung off your frame like armour, sleeves falling over your hands. For a beat, you just stood there, like you didn’t know what to say, like you barely recognised yourself.

Lewis didn’t need words. He just opened his arms.

And you folded into him like it was instinct.

He wrapped you up, warm and steady, your face pressed against his chest as the sobs came in waves softer than before, worn down by hours of crying, but still aching. His hand cradled the back of your head, fingertips weaving into your hair, grounding you. You clung to him like you’d been holding your breath all day and only just remembered how to exhale.

He didn’t ask for details. Didn’t say “I’m sorry” or “What happened?”

He just let you break.

He stayed that night.

Made you tea you didn’t drink. Sat beside you on the couch, a blanket draped gently over your shoulders even though you never asked for one. He took your phone when it buzzed Josh’s name lighting up the screen and silenced it with barely a glance. And when you finally fell asleep on the couch, still tear-streaked and trembling, he curled himself into the armchair, kept one eye open, just in case you needed him again.

You woke at three a.m., disoriented, heart pounding, and he was still there - his hoodie bunched around his neck, his head resting awkwardly against the cushion. He stirred the second you shifted. Met your tired gaze with a quiet, reassuring look and asked, “You okay?”

You weren’t. But somehow, knowing he was there made it easier to breathe.

And he didn’t leave.

Not the next day. Not the one after that.

He came over with takeaway from your favourite Thai place, the one Josh always said was “too far out of the way.” He brought pastries from that little café you used to love, and when you couldn’t eat more than a few bites, he didn’t say a word. He walked your route home from work just to be near, to make the air around you feel less heavy. Sometimes, you didn’t talk. Sometimes, he made you laugh with dumb paddock stories impersonations of other drivers, tales from press tours gone wrong.

And sometimes, when the grief caught up to you when you curled into yourself on the couch, shoulders shaking, pain bubbling up without warning Lewis would pull you close, rub slow circles on your back, and whisper soft nothings until the wave passed.

You never thanked him. Not out loud. Not directly.

He never asked you to.

You didn’t fall in love with him all at once.

It wasn’t some cinematic moment or grand realisation. It was slow. Gentle. It was the way he remembered how you liked your tea with one sugar, splash of milk, extra hot. It was the way he read your silences better than most people understood your words. The way he always kept a respectful distance, never pushing, never making you feel like you owed him anything for being there.

It was the morning he dropped off groceries unannounced because you hadn’t been eating. The evening, he fixed the leaky tap in your kitchen without saying a word about it. The day he showed up with flowers not because it was a special occasion but because he thought your flat deserved some colour again.

And then, it was the day you laughed.

Really laughed.

He had said something stupid a joke about his own hair routine, maybe, or a story about George accidentally texting a team group chat instead of his girlfriend. Whatever it was, it caught you off-guard, and the sound escaped before you could stop it. Bright. Unfiltered. Real.

You covered your mouth with your hand, blinking like you couldn’t believe it happened.

When you looked at Lewis, he was already watching you.

Not with pity. Not even with relief. Just that quiet warmth again. That look that told you he’d seen the worst of you and hadn’t flinched.

Something in your chest cracked open.

Not from grief this time. But from something warmer. Something that felt like light creeping into a room you hadn’t stepped into in ages.

And in that moment, it hit you not all at once, but suddenly and sharply, like clarity finally pulling into focus:

This man had been yours all along.

Not in the way Josh had tried to possess you loudly, carelessly, like a prize. But in the way Lewis had loved you in silence. Patiently. Unconditionally. Fully. Without asking for anything back.

He had waited.

Without ever asking you to wait too.

And maybe now finally it was time.

It started slowly, the falling.

You didn’t even notice it at first. Just little things that shifted without you meaning them to. Like how your eyes searched for him in a crowd, without even thinking. Or how your chest loosened just a little every time you saw his name light up your phone screen.

One evening, a few weeks after the breakup, you were sitting on your balcony with him two mugs of lukewarm tea between you, the sun dipping behind the city skyline like it, too, was exhaling. Lewis was telling you about a disastrous team dinner in Monaco, and you were laughing. Really laughing again.

And then he looked at you just looked, not like anything had changed and your heart did something traitorous. It stuttered. Dropped. Caught again.

You blamed the sunset. Or the tea. Or the way he said your name so gently.

But that moment stayed with you.

And so did the next one. And the next.

Like when he reached over to brush a piece of lint from your sleeve and your skin burned under the touch. Or the day he walked you home in the rain, his jacket held over both your heads, and you couldn’t stop staring at the way his lashes caught the water. Or the night you watched a movie together and you leaned into his side a little longer than you needed to and he didn’t move. He just let you stay.

It scared you.

Because for the first time in a long time, you felt something. And it wasn’t grief. It wasn’t the ache of losing something or someone. It was softer than that. Warmer. Like something was rebuilding inside you, brick by brick and it had his fingerprints all over it.

You told Luna one night, voice low, like it was something fragile.

“I think I’m falling for him.”

She didn’t even look surprised.

“You’ve always been his. You just didn’t see it before.”

You didn’t answer. But the words haunted you for days.

One night, you found yourself digging through an old photo album in your parents’ attic a dusty, battered one filled with pictures from secondary school. School trips. Award ceremonies. Blurry selfies from your first ever music festival.

And there he was.

In the background of almost every photo. Always close. Always watching you. Sometimes laughing at something you’d said. Sometimes looking like he was about to speak but didn’t. And then there was that one of you and Josh, smiling stiffly at some friend dinner and Lewis, just off to the side, his expression unreadable.

You stared at that one the longest.

And suddenly, it clicked.

Like a puzzle piece slotted into place after years of trying to force the wrong ones together. You remembered the way he’d waited outside your classroom when you forgot your jacket. The way he’d walked you to the bus stop every day, even though it made him late. The way he never once told you how he felt not because he didn’t care, but because he didn’t want to burden you with it.

He’s loved you since you were kids.

You felt like an idiot. A blind one. Because how could you not have seen it? How could you have missed the kind of love that patient? That selfless?

That real?

You didn’t know what to do with the realisation. It sat in your chest like a secret too big to carry, too dangerous to say aloud. So, you didn’t. Not right away.

But the next time you saw him, something had changed.

It was movie night again your third that week, an unspoken tradition that neither of you ever seemed to want to break. He was curled on the floor, back against the couch, and you were up on the cushions, your legs tucked beneath you.

And you couldn’t stop watching him.

Not in a subtle, sidelong-glance kind of way but openly. Boldly. Like you needed to memorise him. Every line of his face. The soft edge of his smile. The way he knew the movie word for word but still watched it like it was brand new, just because you liked it.

At some point, he turned to say something, and your eyes met mid-breath.

Silence.

Your heart thundered. His lips parted, just slightly, like he was going to say something, but then he didn’t. He just…watched you back.

Your fingers twitched.

You didn’t know who moved first. Maybe both of you. Maybe neither — maybe it was just something that had been waiting to happen for years, and finally, finally, the timing aligned.

Your hand slipped down beside his. Not touching. Just close.

He looked down.

Then back at you.

And then he reached slowly, like giving you time to pull away and let his fingers brush yours.

It wasn’t a kiss. Not yet.

But it was the spark.

You didn’t speak the rest of the movie. You didn’t move away, either.

When the credits rolled, you turned to him, your voice soft, trembling just a little.

“Why didn’t you ever tell me?”

He didn’t pretend not to know what you meant.

He just looked down, let out a breath, and said,

“Because you were happy. And I didn’t want to be the reason you weren’t.”

Your throat tightened.

You reached for his hand again fully this time. Your palm against his. His thumb brushed over your knuckles like a whisper.

“I wasn’t,” you said. “Not really. I just didn’t know what it was supposed to feel like.”

His eyes met yours again, and something flickered there something deep, something vulnerable.

“Then let me show you.”

The words were so quiet, you almost missed them.

And that’s when you leaned in.

It wasn’t a rushed kiss. It wasn’t urgent or desperate. It was slow. Careful. Like the kind of thing that had waited too long to be careless. Your lips brushed his like a question. His answer was the way he tilted his head, deepened the kiss, his hand cradling your jaw like you were something breakable and holy all at once.

It was years of silence. Years of patience. Years of loving each other in the wrong timelines, finally collapsing into one moment where everything was right.

When you pulled back, he didn’t say anything.

He just smiled wide, real, full of every unspoken thing between you.

And you knew this was just the beginning.

You didn’t define it right away.

After the kiss that soft, silent thing that felt like coming home neither of you rushed to fill the space with labels or declarations. You stayed curled on the couch beside him, legs tangled beneath the throw blanket, your fingers still laced together. His thumb kept tracing gentle arcs over your knuckles like he couldn’t quite believe he was allowed to touch you like this now. Like if he let go, it might all disappear.

It wasn’t awkward.

It wasn’t loud.

It was just…different.

Softer. Heavier. A stillness that settled between you like shared breath. The world didn’t shift with a bang, but something unspoken clicked into place, quiet and sure like how you always knew you were meant to find your way back to him.

You still messaged the same way stupid memes, check-ins, late-night “did you eat?” texts but something about the timing changed. His replies came faster. Your words lingered longer before you hit send. And the silence between messages stretched not with absence, but with anticipation. A little thrill of “what are we now?” echoing quietly every time you looked at your screen.

The next time he came over, he didn’t knock.

He let himself in, as always, but this time when you turned the corner into the hallway, he kissed your cheek before saying anything. Like it was the most natural thing in the world. Like he’d been doing it forever.

And maybe, in a way, he had just not out loud.

That night, when you curled up beside him again under your well-worn blanket, the space between you narrowed with ease. His arm draped over your shoulder with the same hesitance you'd seen in his eyes when he first took your hand the night before cautious, hopeful. He was giving you an out, if you wanted one.

Instead, you leaned in closer, resting your head against his collarbone.

Your voice came out like a secret. “Is this okay?”

He tilted his head down, met your eyes really looked.

“Yeah,” he said, warm and steady. “If you want it to be.”

And you did. God, you did.

You just didn’t know how to be in love with your best friend without fumbling the very thing you’d both spent years unknowingly building.

The first time you went out in public again not as just friends, but not quite a couple either was for lunch at that little café tucked behind the bookshop you both liked. You sat beside him instead of across. Close enough to feel the brush of his sleeve every time he lifted his coffee.

At one point, his hand found your knee under the table. Not deliberate. Not bold. Just... there. And your heart fluttered like a teenager with her first crush.

No one looked twice. But you did.

Every second.

He’d say something funny that dry, quiet kind of wit that had always made you laugh and you’d look at him with new eyes. Like, how did I miss this for so long? His lips curved, and you caught yourself watching his mouth, remembering what it had felt like against yours.

He noticed.

And he smiled like he couldn’t help it.

“Do you think this is weird?” you asked, peeling at the corner of your napkin.

Lewis shook his head gently, brushing his thumb across the back of your hand beneath the table. “No. But I think we’ve both been scared of it for a long time.”

You looked up, searching his face.

“Are you still scared?”

“A little,” he admitted. “But not of loving you.”

It didn’t escalate right away.

He never rushed. Never asked for more than you were ready to give. Just lingered a little longer when he touched you. A hand on your back when you passed each other in the hallway. A brush of his fingers down your arm as he handed you a cup of tea. A forehead pressed to yours in that quiet moment before goodbye.

He kissed you like it was a promise. Every time. Like it was sacred.

The first night he stayed over again after everything you shared your bed.

Fully clothed. Fully comfortable.

You lay with your head on his chest, legs tangled together beneath the covers, his hand gently resting against your spine like he was grounding you. His heartbeat was steady, strong beneath your ear.

“Is this real?” you whispered into the dark.

His voice was husky, drowsy. “Been real for me since we were kids.”

You tilted your head up, tears stinging the corners of your eyes.

He caught the shift in your expression and kissed your forehead so gently it nearly broke you.

You didn’t say I love you yet.

But you felt it in every moment he reached for you when you woke up panicked from a dream, in the way he stayed quiet when you needed silence and spoke only when your shoulders relaxed enough to listen.

There were bumps.

You panicked one morning when Luna asked casually if you were back on the dating apps, and your mouth opened before your brain could catch up. You froze, unsure what to say, unsure if you could say anything yet. It wasn’t a secret. But it wasn’t public either. Not quite yours to explain without him.

Lewis noticed that night, when you sat a little further away on the couch. When you went quiet in the way that meant your mind was spinning too fast for your own good.

He didn’t say anything. Didn’t push.

He just came by the next morning with your favourite coffee, still warm, and a gentle smile on his face.

“Still with me?” he asked quietly, holding out the cup.

You took it with both hands, eyes soft. “I just - I don’t want to ruin this.”

He leaned in, brushing his thumb across your cheek, tucking a strand of hair behind your ear.

“You won’t,” he murmured. “We’ve already been through the worst, haven’t we?”

Your breath hitched as you looked at him. All the versions of him you’d loved. The boy who sat beside you in class, the teenager who walked you home in the rain, the man who now held you like you were something precious.

You leaned forward and rested your forehead against his.

“Yeah,” you whispered. “And you stayed.”

“Always.”

The first time you told him you loved him; it wasn’t a grand gesture.

It was late. He’d just come back from a long race weekend a brutal one. You’d watched the whole thing on your laptop, biting your nails and yelling at the screen like he could hear you. When he finally walked through your door, tired and rumpled and so painfully familiar, you didn’t even think. You just moved.

You threw your arms around his neck, burying your face in his shoulder, breathing in the scent of him in motor oil and cologne and something warm beneath it all.

“I love you,” you whispered into his collar.

He stilled.

Then slowly, his arms wrapped around your waist. Tighter. Closer.

He pulled back just enough to see your face, his eyes wide, like he wanted to make sure you meant it.

You did.

He smiled that small, private smile he’d only ever given to you and exhaled like he’d been holding it in for years.

“Finally,” he said. “I can say it back.”

And he did.

He said it again that night, between kisses that were slower than usual. Deeper. Kisses that said I missed you and thank you and I’ve been waiting for this for so long.

He said it the next morning, when he woke up to find you still wrapped around him, one hand curled beneath his t-shirt like you’d anchored yourself there in sleep.

He said it the morning after that, too.

And every day after, like it had been sitting on the tip of his tongue for a decade.

And now, he never had to hold it back again.

#lewis hamilton #lh44 #lewis hamilton x reader #f1 x reader #lewis hamilton imagine #x reader #lh44 x reader #f1 imagine #lewis hamilton x you #lh44 imagine #lewis hamilton one shot #team lh44 #f1 one shot #f1 fic #f1 fanfic #f1

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funnygirlthatbelle · 1 month ago

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i suspect that a huge factor in the defense of students using gen ai (and academic dishonesty in general tbh) comes from the fundamental misunderstanding of how school works.

to simplify thousands of educator's theories into the simplest terms, there are two types of stuff you're learning in school: content and skills. content is what we often think of as the material in school- spelling, times tables, names, dates, facts, etc.- whereas skills are usually more subtle. think phonics, mental math, reading comprehension, comparing and contrasting; though students do those things often, the how usually isn't deemed as important as the what.

this leads to a disconnect that's most obvious when students ask the infamous "when will we use this in the real world?" they have- often correctly- identified content that the content is niche, outdated, or not optimized but haven't considered the skills that this class/lesson/assignment will teach.

i can think of two shining examples from when i was a kid. one was in middle school when they announced that we were now gonna be studying latin, and we all wondered why on earth they would choose latin as our foreign language. every adult promised us it'd be helpful if we went into medicine, law, or religion (ignoring that most of us didn't want to go into medicine, law, or religion), but we didn't buy that and never took it seriously. the truth was that our new principal knew that learning languages gets harder as you get older, and so building the skills of learning a language while it was easy for us was more important than which language we learned, and that's an answer twelve year old me would've actually respected.

similarly, my geometry class all hated proofs. we couldn't think of a single situation where you'd have to convince someone a triangle was a triangle and "look at it, of course it's a triangle" wouldn't be an acceptable answer. it was actually the band director who pointed out that it wasn't literally about triangles; it was about being able to prove or disprove something, anything using facts.

and so, so, so many assignments that are annoying as hell in school make more sense when you think about the skills as well as the content. "why do i have to present information about something the teacher obviously already knows about?" because research, verifying sources, summarizing, and public speaking are all really important skills. "why does this have to be a group project?" because you will have to work with other people in your life, and learning how to be a team player (and deal with people who aren't) is an essential skill. "why do we have to read these scientific articles and learn about graphs?" because if you can understand them, people can't lie to you about them.

now, of course, there's a lot we could do better- especially we as in the american school system. the reason i have an education minor but am not teaching is because of those issues. there are plenty of assignments that are busywork and teachers that are assholes and ways that the system is failing us.

but that doesn't mean you should cut off your nose to spite your face!

the ability to learn and grow and think critically is one of our most powerful tools as people. our brains are capable of incredible things! however, the same way you can't lift a car unless you consistently lift and build up to that, your brain needs to train in order to do its best.

so yeah, maybe chatgpt can write a five paragraph essay for you on the differences between thomas jefferson and alexander hamilton's governing philosophies. and maybe it won't even fuck it up! congratulations, you got away with it. but by outright refusing to use your brain and practice these skills, who have you helped? you haven't learned anything. worse, you haven't even learned how to learn.

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loafysainz · 5 months ago

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the parent trap (remake) | CS 55

cast: carlos sainz × fem!reader

warn: 100% fiction & remake

part 1, part 2, part 3

PART 2 SUMMER CAMP BEGIN

Hundreds of campers piled out of buses, buzzing with excitement. Among them, a brunnete-haired boy named Matheo Sainz looked around with mild disinterest, tugging at his leather jacket despite the scorching sun. His outfit was on point—a beige sweater, jeans, and his signature cowboi suitcase—but the heat was testing his patience.

"Alright, kids! I’m Mr. Hamilton. Over there is Mr. Russell. He’ll assign your cabins," shouted Mr. Hamilton through a megaphone.

Matheo darted for his suitcase, but it was buried under a mountain of luggage. A redhead named Nate Smith approached, smirking.

“Why didn’t you grab it earlier, genius?” Nate teased.

“Bad luck. Always happens,” Matheo muttered.

Nate joined in the effort to free the suitcase, but it was useless. Just then, Dean Vettel, a tall and big kid, yanked out his suitcase like it was nothing.

“Hey, Hulk! Help us out!” Nate called.

Dean smirked and pulled Matheo’s suitcase free with one swift move.

"Thanks, dude. I’m Matheo."

"Dean. Nice to meet you."

"I’m Nate," added the redhead.

The trio clicked instantly, chatting as they headed to their cabin.

***

Elsewhere, a sleek limousine rolled up. Out stepped a blond-haired boy in a sharp blue suit—Mattia Y/LN. His bodyguard, Martin, looked uneasy.

“Are you sure about this camp, young Man?”

“Absolutely! It’ll be fun,” Mattia replied confidently.

Martin sighed. "You’re as stubborn as your mom, Y/N."

“That’s the point.” Mattia grinned, grabbing his luggage. “See you in a month, Martin!”

***

The next day, a fencing match was in full swing. Matheo dominated the battlefield, his quick moves earning cheers.

“Who’s next?” he taunted.

Mattia, fresh from padle practice, approached with his friends egging him on.

“Let’s see what you’ve got,” Mattia said, putting on a fencing mask.

The duel was intense. Swords clashed, hay flew, and the crowd gasped. Mattia’s agility matched Matheo’s skill, but in a final move, Mattia disarmed Matheo.

“Touché,” Mattia smirked.

Matheo glared but offered a handshake. Instead of shaking hands, Mattia yanked him into a nearby pond.

“Seriously?” Matheo spluttered.

Mr. Russell arrived, clapping. “That was amazing! Now shake hands for real.”

The boys turned to face each other—and froze.

“Damn, we look the same!” Mattia blurted.

“No way,” Matheo scoffed, but he inspected Mattia. “Fine, you’ve got more freckles. And look those ears… they’re not it, man.”

Mattia glared. “Well, your nose isn’t exactly Picasso-worthy either.”

“Madrid has great surgeons,” Matheo retorted with a smirk.

Their friends exchanged looks.

“Are they… twins?” Nate whispered.

“Plot twist of the year,” Dean added.

Mr. Russell scratched his head. “Alright, Mattia—I mean, Matheo—and, uh, Mattia, get along now.”

The twins stared each other down. “This summer’s about to get interesting,” they thought.

And so, chaos began.

#cs55 #f1 x reader #f1 imagine #f1 fluff #f1 fanfiction #f1 fanfic #f1 fic #carlos sainz fanfic #carlos sainz x reader #carlos sainz jr

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msbigredmachine · 6 months ago

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☕Roman Reigns Menu☕

☕SIGNATURE DRINKS☕

Entangled

In a wealthy Hartford, CT suburb, two best friends fall into a tempting storm when a rich, devastatingly handsome man moves in next door. Wealthy, irresistible, and dangerously disruptive. Passion, jealousy, and chaos ignite…and nobody’s playing it safe. Based on characters from The Boy Next Door. [In progress]

Finding Angel (BRAND NEW)

In a world of bright lights, dark secrets, and sizzling chemistry, pro wrestling's biggest star finds his Angel. But as undeniable as their passion is, so are the obstacles threatening to tear them apart. [In progress]

The Boy Next Door

A sexy mysterious man is new in town…but mystery is not all he brings with him… (Co-written with @harmshake) AU romance/psychological thriller. [Completed]

Power Couple - The Series

They say, “Behind every great man stands a great woman”. But behind the Universal Champion and the Tribal Chief is a different breed of woman, a force of nature capable of bringing even the Head of the Table to his knees…and vice versa. [Completed]

Into The Deep End - The Saga

Sasha has always tried to play it safe, to keep her life as simple and risk-free as possible. Things change, however, when she garners the interest of a handsome, charming, younger man from a completely different world than hers. As she starts to question her own rules, is she ready to take the biggest chance of them all? Will she let herself take that dive? My very first Roman fic set circa 2014. [Completed]

Targets

Roman Reigns is an agent in the secret organization The Authority and one of the world’s deadliest assassins. When he crosses paths with a mysterious woman during an assignment, he makes a life-changing decision that switches his role from the hunter to the hunted. (AU Espionage Story) [Completed]

Roman & Jaida: The We Are Series

He’s not her most favorite person in the world, but she finds it in her heart to be there for him in his time of need. In return, he shows her just how much he appreciates it. Set around the events of the 2015 Royal Rumble and the Blizzard Raw the night after. [Completed]

You Consume Me

She was beautiful, tempting, carefree, and everything I thought I wanted in a woman. One taste and I was hooked, abandoning everything and everyone I cared about to be with her. What I failed to see was the other side of her; a side that was dark, dangerous…Deadly. [Completed]

Come What May

Today was supposed to be the happiest day of her life. So why did she feel like she was making the biggest mistake of her life? (Roman Reigns/OC/Tama Tonga) [Completed]

☕DOUBLE SHOTS☕

You Again

That awkward moment when the biggest star in pro wrestling happens to be your high school bully…and he’s in your office. A 2-part series [Completed]

Talking Body

Photoshoots, lingerie and a long overdue baecation are in store for Roman and Gia heading into their five-year(ish) anniversary. Let’s hope it all goes off without a hitch. [Completed]

☕SPECIALTY BREWS☕

Co-Star - Juliana “Juju” Hamilton, a celebrated TV star, and Roman Reigns, a former WWE icon stepping into his first major acting role, play star-crossed lovers on a hit series. But as they prepare to film their first sex scene, the lines between fiction and reality begin to blur.

Off The Record - When passion gets recorded, it becomes the hottest track of the year. Roman/Black Fem Rapper!OC

Midnight Sparks - On New Year’s Eve, the OTC retreats to a quiet bar, craving solitude. When a confident and captivating woman crosses his path, their connection ignites, turning a quiet night into something unforgettable.

Nothing Left - The tale of a marriage built on trust, torn apart by lies, and a woman’s breaking point that should never have been reached.

Handsy - When the OTC asks for help and you oblige him, he’s very happy to return the favor.

Behind The Mask - Sometimes love demands that you fight not for yourself—but for someone who can’t fight back.

Cheat Meal - The OTC is hungry for a whole lot more than just good food.

Butterscotch & Chocolate - What’s better than a hunky, rich and powerful Samoan boyfriend? Why, two, of course! (Roman Reigns/OC/The Rock)

Kitty Kat - After a lifetime of searching, the Tribal Chief may have finally found the woman of his dreams. Post-Summerslam 2024.

Black Sweatpants - Why did the Tribal Chief arrive late to the Pat McAfee Show? Based on Roman’s appearance on March 22 2024.

Checkmate - The new Smackdown GM reminds the Tribal Chief who’s boss, in more ways than one. The aftermath of the highly entertaining WrestleMania 40 Press Conference.

Santa Daddy🎄- All the Tribal Chief wants for Christmas is you.

Sugar & The Chief - Reader is a best-selling erotic author reflecting on the success of her newest novel, which is based on her secret affair with the man who became her muse.

Say Cheese - A steamy after-work rendezvous with the Tribal Chief and his princess is captured in 4K.

In Peace - When one of the Wiseman’s incessant phone calls comes at the wrong time 🙄.

Here With Me - As the Bloodline Civil War takes an unexpected turn of events, Reader comes up with the perfect pick-me-up for her Tribal Chief. Post-Summerslam 2023.

M.K.A.M. (My Kinda Morning) - Who says birthday sex has to end after the birthday?

Dirty Little Secret - They are each other’s escape, too good to let go of. Until they have to let go.

I Still Heart You - This year, Valentine’s Day takes an interesting turn for two exes.

Latch - The most meaningful conversations take place in the shower.

Daddy The Sub - The Tribal Chief comes home to receive his punishment.

Feedback - The Tribal Chief loves it when you tell show him how much you like his promos. Set after that epic unification contract signing segment of Feb 25, 2022

Sex On The Beach - Remember that “Running Around Naked” promo the Tribal Chief cut some months ago? Well, this is exactly what happened on the private island…in my mind at least.

Boss Lady - It’s always good to have a close working relationship with your boss. But what if you want to be closer? More importantly, what if the feeling is mutual? AU.

I Won’t Let You Fall -She was ready to give up on herself, but one man had to let her know he was not ready to lose her, even if it meant revealing a certain secret he’d kept to himself for years.

Gold Digger - Roman is having a hard time getting rid of his gold-digging ex-wife. What exactly does he have to do to get her out of his life permanently? AU.

Believe - Still hurting from a nasty breakup, Livia is convinced that love does not exist. But Roman decides to prove her wrong…in the most romantic way possible.

The One That Got Away - On the biggest night of her career, Hollywood movie star Beverley Tyler looks back on what might have been. There are things more important than fame and fortune. Beverley learned that the hard way.

The Mechanic - An impromptu trip to a service station leads to an encounter with a sexy mechanic. Her car isn’t the only thing he works on. AU.

☕ESPRESSO SHOTS☕

Kiss Me (200 Words in May Challenge)

All banners made by me.

Credit to all the owners of the pictures and gifs.

Divider by @thecutestgrotto

Please don't steal my content. Thank you!

#roman reigns #roman reigns fanfic #wwe #roman reigns fanfiction #roman reigns smut #roman reigns x black oc #roman reigns imagine #roman reigns x black reader #msbigredmachine writes #the tribal chief #the otc #otc #the bloodline

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mirohlayo · 1 year ago

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F1 DRIVERS AND THINGS THEY

LOVE ABOUT YOU

including mclaren, ferrari, mercedes + verstappen, ricciardo & gasly

warning : mention of imperfections and insecurities

note : can't wait for the new f1 season because my sundays are so boring

!! english is not my first language !!

ᦈ OSCAR PIASTRI 81

you free up time only for him. you're always busy with your essays and assignments which means you don't have much time to spend with your boyfriend. but still you always manage to free up some time just fort him. and he loves that, he feels confident knowing that he is the only one who is so special to you. of course he won't waste a single second of your time together, because he couldn't ask for anything better than spending time with his favorite girl in the world.

ᦈ LANDO NORRIS 4

your cuddles. i swear this boy will cuddle you every chance he gets. he loves how your two bodies fit perfectly together in the arms of each other. he'll grab your waist and lay you on the bed, his body on top of you. he'll hold you tight and bury his face in the crook of your neck. you play with his curly hair, your hand gently stroking his back. he places some soft kisses on your neck and collarbones. and he delights in your warm embrace, which provides him so much comfort. like he's home.

ᦈ CHARLES LECLERC 16

the way you show to the whole world that he belongs to you. it's often subtle but you always try to give everyone a hint about your relationship with charles. to make sure the world knows he's yours. because he secretly loves when you do that. he genuinely feels loved and he loves thinking about the fact that there is only him in your heart.whether it's a matching jewelry or the faint trace of your lipstick on his cheek, he cherishes those little clues that show the world your deep love.

ᦈ CARLOS SAINZ 55

your eyes softening when you look at him. he notices it, the way you gaze at him, how you stare at him. but he has observed the way your eyes always soften when you look at him. some sparkles in them as you admire the love of your life. and he can't help but get lost in the beauty of your pupils. he stares into your eyes until he finds all the love you hide behind them. he feels special, and he always ends up flustered as his cheeks and face become all red. he turns into a blushing mess under your loving gaze.

ᦈ LEWIS HAMILTON 44

your imperfections and insecurities. gosh how much he loves your insecurities. lewis knows you don't like certain parts of your body and you can be insecure about your flaws. but he wants to show you how beautiful you are despite your imperfections, which he obviously doesn't agree with because you're literally the most prettiest person in this world. every single day he reminds you how perfect you are, and that no matter how insecurities you have he'll always cherises them.

ᦈ GEORGE RUSSEL 63

the way you're just yourself with him. george genuinely adore when you let your true self shine when you're around him. you don't open up to people easily and you're not quite comfortable when you meet one another. but not with george. you trust him and he makes feel you so safe that's why you're not afraid to be you, and he loves so much that. it means so much more than you think, his heart overflows with love every time he is with you.

ᦈ MAX VERSTAPPEN 33

your kisses. as simple as it is, he simply loves your kisses. whether soft and sweet kisses or rougher and deeper, he loves every type of kisses. especially after a bad day or a bad race (though 2023 was a pretty good year for him anyway), a kiss from you is all he needs. it's never enough kisses for him, he always asks for one every single minutes and if he doesn't get it then you're sure he'll pout for the rest of the day. but your kisses brings so much comfort and he feels so loved every time.

ᦈ DANIEL RICCIARDO 3

your smile. how much he loves your smile it's insane. obviously you two are a perfect match. he's so funny and his sense of humor is the same as you, you two are like the funniest couple of the grid. but daniel uses his humor and jokes mostly for you, just to see your beautiful smile rises on your face. the way your eyes narrow with a few tears of laughter on the edge, the way your smile brightens up his whole day. he just needs to see your smile to feel better. and he wishes you'll never stop smiling because how you look perfect like that.

ᦈ PIERRE GASLY 10

your little habits. one thing pierre loves about you is your habits. first in the start of your relationship, he didn't really know about your behavior and your little habits. but then he started to notice them : the way you bite your lips when you're concentrated, when you put the dishes away in a specific order because otherwise it stresses you out, your usual morning routine. he finds these things absolutely cute and he even started to appropriate them too. it shows his love for you.

#f1 imagine #f1 x reader #f1 fanfic #oscar piastri x reader #lando norris x reader #charles leclerc x reader #carlos sainz x reader #lewis hamilton x reader #george russel x reader #max verstappen x reader #daniel riccardo x reader #pierre gasly x reader

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archivesainz · 1 year ago

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he's got the fire and he talks with it

📚 ˚✧ ₊˚ lh44

. . . You end up sleeping at a schoolmate's house so you can finish work the next day, she just didn't expect to have so much fun with your friend's father. .

genre: friend's father trope, the reader is +18, age gape, penetrative sex without protection (p in v), breeding, degrading, creampie, spit kink, cockwarming.

pairing: lewis hamilton x reader

a/n: reblogs, likes and comments are always welcome, english is not my first language so if something confuse pls tell me, requests are open. Enjoy.

The girl was almost 20 minutes away standing in front of her friend's door, she had already knocked five times and nothing. She tried to call her friend, but she also didn't answer and she was at an impasse, she didn't know if she was leaving or waiting to see if someone showed up.

It was four in the afternoon and she was wearing a light pink skirt, a short white blouse and her inseparable white sneakers. She had gone to her friend's house to do a school assignment, so she was still there hoping her friend would show up and she could do the work.

He jumped scared when a thick and hoarse voice sounded too close to his ear:

- "Can I help?"

She turned forward and saw a man standing there, his well-marked jaw hidden by a well-made brown beard, in his mouth with his lips was a gentle smile on his side and in his eyes as deep as the ocean watching her with curiosity.

She sighed with the beauty of the man, he seemed to be in his 30s, 37 years old and she had never seen him before, looked away nervously with the man looking at his face so carefully and replied:

- "Hm, yes I'm looking for Lisa, we agreed to do the school work together."

- "Oh yes, that's okay, I'm her father and she went to solve some things for me, but in a little while she'll be back, you want to.." - He said opening the door of the house. - "Wait for her in here?"

She just waved, she needed to do that job today or she was going to get bad at school, her grades were no longer very good so it was better not to risk it. She entered the big house, kind of shy, not knowing how to deal with her friend's father.

Lewis smiled when he saw the girl standing still near the door, she was all shy and apparently nervous, he sat on the couch and took his cell phone out of his pants pocket, sending a message to his daughter telling him that his friend had arrived.

- "You can sit down if you want. Lisa will be back in a little while." - He said when he saw that the girl was not going to move, she came out of her daydreams with the voice of the elder and sat on the other side of the couch, putting her bag on the floor and touching the edge of her skirt as a form of distraction.

She observed the way Lewis was sitting on the couch, with his legs open while moving his cell phone, he wore black jeans and an almost transparent white shirt, she watched carefully all his tattoos.

Lewis smiled leaving his cell phone aside and looking through the girl's whole body, her white and thick thighs, on her big breasts almost jumping out of the short blouse and in her fleshy little mouth, she was very hot.

He heard the noise of the door opening and Lisa entered, with her usual sweet smile. She approached her friend sitting next to the girl, they talked for a while and after his daughter pulled her friend to the room. Lewis sighed, then going up to take a shower.

[...]

It was almost six o'clock at night and the girls had not yet left the room. Lewis was sitting on the couch in a relaxed way, dressed in black shorts and a black T-shirt, he was with his legs open while watching any newspaper on television.

He looked away at the stairs when he saw you going down. She stopped almost at the last step and looked at herself, biting her lips then Lewis arched his eyebrows and put his hands on his knees subtly raising his hips, fixing herself on the couch.

She blinked bewildered by the movement, and walked shyly to the kitchen to drink water. Feeling the look of her friend's father herself, she took a glass putting water and drinking then, when she felt the presence of Lewis behind her she smiled.

- "Are you still doing the work?" - He asked when he leaned himself on the wall and crossed his arms.

- "Yes, Mr. Hamilton." - You turned to him, putting a curl behind his ear and drinking the rest of the water. She wasn't a saint. He noticed the looks of his friend's father on his body, asked Lisa about his family and the girl said everything she wanted to hear, of course she would not miss the opportunity to provoke him.

- "Hm.." - He approached and you blinked your green eyes innocently. - "You know.. it's getting late, if you want to sleep here and finish tomorrow.." - Lewis smiled on his side, looking down and seeing his hot breasts through the neckline of his blouse.

- "I have to tell my parents Mr. Hamilton and I don't know if they would let me.." - She smiled naughty seeing the man's look burning on her body, she walked away standing on her toe to store the glass in the closet, prancing her chubby ass towards Lewis.

- "Tell them that I'll take care of you." - Lewis spoke in the malicious tone, that girl was driving him crazy.

You turned around watching the eldest look up to your eyes while having a scafajeste smile on her face, she approached him fixing her big tits in the short blouse.

- "I don't know.. do you promise to keep me safe? Very warm and comfortable Mr. Hamilton?" - She made that look of innocence almost forming a fluffy beak on her lips if it wasn't for the naughty tone in her voice.

Lewis approached putting his hand on the girl's thin waist making a caress there, he didn't know how she could look so innocent and naughty at the same time, he wanted to end her.

He sighed and said: - "I can make you feel a lot of things dear, just let me." -

Before you could answer Lisa called her in the room, the girl let go of Lewis' arms, sending a kiss in the air as she walked away shaking her ass subtly, she stopped at the kitchen door and looked at him over her shoulder, smiling innocently and finally going up the stairs.

- "Fuck." - Lewis cursed softly when his hard cock bothered him, he was not believing that after so many years, a girl was messing with him so much.

[...]

At dinner time, the three were sitting at the table, Lisa on the right side of the father and you facing the man, while eating and talking about anything, you took advantage of the moment of distraction of the friend to pass your feet through the legs of Lewis who looked at himself in a naughty way soon turning his attention to what his daughter said.

You kept sliding your bare feet down Lewis' legs, going up and when you got close to the groin, you came back, smiling every time you received a hard look from the man. You offered to wash the dishes and while his daughter went to the bathroom Lewis went after the girl.

He approached, smelling the sweet smell of the girl's perfume, he whispered softly in her ear: - "Are you an offered little whore, did you know that?" - You smiled naughty holding your teeth on her lower lip, when you slowly leaned to the man, shaking subtly on the half-hard cock.

- "I don't know what you're talking about sir.." - He said in a whisper, feeling when Lewis took a deep breath near his ear and held a moan when the man grabbed his ass with one hand, putting his hair side with the other and talking even lower and hoarse in his ear:

- "Don't provoke me, girl." -

- "Or what?" - The girl turned with wet hands casting a challenging look at the man, Lewis locked her jaw moving away quickly when her daughter entered the kitchen.

- "Come on, I'll give you a pyjama for you to sleep comfortably." - Lisa spoke while drinking water, not realising the mood between the two, you smiled nodding your head finishing washing the dishes, Lewis just left the kitchen a little irritated.

[...]

When the two were ready and dressed in pyjamas, you were wearing pink pyjamas. She was lying in bed waiting for Lisa, she was distracted by her thoughts with Lewis when he entered the room, only in sweatpants, she ran her tongue on her lips seeing his skinny and delicious body.

- "I came to say good night." - He said when Lisa entered the room soon after, he kissed the top of the girl's head, she smiled and left a kiss on her father's cheek lying on the bed afterwards.

- "Come here, I also want to say good night."—

The girl smiled getting up and going to the eldest, when he got close, he approached leaving a kiss on his forehead speaking low just for the girl to hear: - "The door to my room will be open, don't make noise."

- "Good night Mr. Hamilton." - She smiled at him looking from top to bottom and went back to bed, lying down and covering himself, Lewis smiled at both of them, turned off the light and closed the door then, going to the room with the half-hard cock.

Lewis left the door between open, lying on the large double bed, he lowered his sweatpants taking his hard and heavy cock in his hand starting to masturbate him lightly, the thick veins pulsating and the pre-cum leaving non-stop.

He sighed when he ran his finger into the sensitive slit, mirroring the pre-cum the entire length, he did not want to cum so he continued masturbating slowly waiting for the girl to appear.

You walked slowly to your friend's father's room, she had fallen asleep a few minutes ago and you took the opportunity to leave the room quickly, when you arrived at the end of the corridor seeing the door between open, you entered the room and almost screamed if it wasn't for Lewis' hot hand covering your mouth.

- "Shh quiet hm?" - He said turning her to himself, when he took his hand out of the girl's mouth she threw her arms on his shoulders and kissed her quickly.

The kiss was quick and tasty, the clicks of the mouths were heard by the silence of the house and Lewis pushed her to bed falling on top of the girl and starting to kiss her again.

You scratched the back of his neck with short nails and let out a little moan when Lewis pulled his lower lip, lowering the kisses to the skinny collarbone showing it.

- "Hm Lewis.." - She moaned when he ran his hand over her pussy, she was without panties so the contact over the shorts drove her crazy. He opened his eyes when he stopped the touches staring at his face.

- "Now it's Lewis? No.." - He said grabbing the jaw of the girl who looked at him with innocent eyes. - "Call me sir, you provocative little whore." - And he left a strong slap on the cheek of the girl who whimpered with the burning, feeling even wetter.

- "Sir please.." - She asked with her eyes full of tears, Lewis' hard cock hurt inside her pants.

- "Oh baby..." - He pushed his hair away from his pretty face, sticking his other hand inside his pyjama blouse and squeezing his hot tits.

- "What do you think about choking on my cock while I suck your hot pussy?"

- "Yes, yes, please." - She said in a hasty tone, spending all that time teasing the man made her so horny.

- "So obedient..." - Lewis said smiling, the girl got on her knees on the bed taking off her blouse leaving her showing off her big tits. Lewis helped her take her shorts out of her pyjamas and the girl looked at him in expectation watching him masturbate slowly.

Lewis lay on the bed pulling you up to himself, she sat on top of your hot cock and pulsating horny, the girl bent down kissing her lips quickly when Lewis told her to turn. On her back she put a leg on each side of Lewis' face leaving her pussy with the shiny honey well showing it, while looking almost drooling at the big cock in front of her.

- "Shit.." - You moaned loudly when you felt Lewis' hot tongue pass over your clitoris. He received a strong slap in the ass and contracted his pussy with the pain.

- "Don't be scandalous and suck me right away with that little mouth of your whore." - Lewis said right away sucking the hot pussy again, you tried to hold your moans and held the heavy cock in your hand by turning your tongue in his extension and putting it in your mouth then.

She sucked hard forming creases on her cheek, while squeezing the heavy balls with her other hand. He passed his tongue in the thick veins of the hot cock and drooled all the length leaving it wet to get into himself. He tried to hold his moans with Lewis' skilful tongue in his pussy.

- "So hot baby.. he's been teasing me all this time, I'm going to fuck this pussy." - Lewis said when he put his tongue on the wet entrance, the girl let go of his cock to moan when he stuck two fingers at once.

- A-ah! Sir like this.. - The girl moaned shaking against Lewis' fingers, he slapped on top of the red pussy which made her moan louder, seeing this Lewis stopped what he was doing and in a single movement took her off him and threw her on the bed, getting on her knees between the girl's head and sticking his cock deep in her tight throat.

- "So hopeless slut.. fucking on my fingers like a slut." - He said when he spat on the girl's face, she closed her eyes trying to breathe with her cock going so deep inside her mouth.

The bed moved with Lewis' quick movements, he was going crazy with the choking sound that the girl's throat made, along with the delicious squeeze on his cock. He stocked up two more times and walked away later, going down and sticking his cock at once in his tight pussy.

- "Ohh fuck Lewis!" - You moaned throwing your head back, Lewis moved fast inside your pussy, the noise of his balls hitting your ass and the moans of both echoing through the silent house.

- "Damn you're the hottest slut I've ever fucked Hm.." - He spoke while stocking hard feeling that he would cum soon, squeezing the girl's breasts with his hands.

- "Mr. Hamilton your cock fucks me so well.. fuck, it doesn't stop!" - She moaned contracting her pussy hard, Lewis moaned hoarsely sticking his face in the sweaty hair of the girl who scratched her back hard.

- "Oh fuck.. I'm going to fucking cum." - Lewis moaned stocking harder, she squeezed him so well, she was so wet around his cock, her moans loudly and her sweaty body with his was so good.

- "Inside me please.. cum inside me Mr. Hamilton." - She moaned softly in her ear feeling his panting breath, Lewis couldn't stand it, stocking three more times and then cumming, without stopping putting his cock still hard in her wet pussy.

- "Please.." - She asked in a sigh when Lewis stopped with the movements, she could feel the hot cum of him inside herself and it made her crazy and very close to cum, the eldest opened her mouth spitting in there, she swallowed smiling and putting their mouths together then.

- "I'm going to make you cum love, and I'm going to fill your hot pussy with cum until you can't take it anymore." - He said when he walked away, Harry let out a grumbling when the cock came out of himself, Lewis turned it aside, and the girl was quick to take the honeyed cock and stick it inside him again.

Lewis smiled at the girl's rush and began to stock his cock slowly in his honeyed pussy, it was all so warm and tight. She moaned softly, rubbing her sensitive clitoris, her sweaty back on Lewis' sweaty breastplate.

- "Do you like it like that, huh? Or prefer when I fuck you hard like that.." - He asked quietly, increasing the strength of the thrusts. Her big breasts jumped and the bed made noise.

- "You fuck me so good, I'm feeling your cum deep inside me..." - She moaned louder when he held her waist stocking up hard, she rubbed her sensitive clitoris feeling that she would soon enjoy her entrance contracting Lewis' thick cock.

- "That's it.. fuck I'm going to cum.. sir.." - She screamed arching her back on Lewis' breastplate, moaning loudly and non-stop while Lewis continued to stock up hard, moaning hoarsely in her ear.

- "Shh.. Lisa is sleeping, you don't want her to listen to the cheap little whore you are, right?" - Lewis whispered in the girl's ear and you couldn't stand cumming anymore. He kept stocking up on his sensitive pussy, feeling it contract non-stop on his cock.

- "Damn I'm going to cum inside your pussy again.. oh" - Lewis moaned when he stocked up two more times and then came, he took his cock out of the tight heat and slapped the sensitive clitoris hard, she screamed and he covered his mouth with his hand, while taking the other to the clitoris rubbing hard.

- "Cum for me again, enjoy, your whore." - He spoke softly, she moaned stuffy against the elder's hand squeezing Lewis' arm hard cumming and then squirting, feeling her whole body shake.

Lewis took his hand out of the girl's mouth turning her soft body to himself, seeing the sweaty little face, he smiled leaving a kiss on his red lips. She opened her eyes wet with tears of pleasure for herself and spoke in a thread of voice:

- "That was so tasty Mr. Hamilton .. can you.. keep me warm? I don't want your cum to come out of me."

- "Damn girl, you're so dirty.." - Lewis said smiling, he took his cock half hard and put it in the wet pussy again. The girl smiled tired towards you and laid her head on his sweaty breastplate.

- "Satisfied love?" - He asked, feeling his hot cock inside her wet pussy.

- "Yes.." - You replied falling asleep next.

It was difficult to explain to Lisa what happened the next day, when she picked them both up in bed. But Lewis was satisfied, and for sure that would happen again.

#f1 #formula 1 #f1 smut #smut #im going crazy #lewis hamilton #lewis hamilton x you #lewis hamilton x reader #lewis hamilton smut #lando norris smut #sebastian vettel smut #lando norris #carlos sainz

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lewismcqueen · 21 days ago

Text

written in red. 04

vampire!lh x black!reader

read from beginning | 03 | 05

summary: you return to Hamilton's mansion to explore further. wc: 2k a/n: it's all coming together baby...not gonna give anything away but we are on the cusp of our first reveal. feel free to leave all theories and guesses in the comments or shoot them in my inbox!

Julia promises that you’ll never have to write another music-related article again, and you assume this means that soon you’ll have a bunch of election-related assignments lined up as an apology for making you write about pop stars and not politics. What it actually means is that you’ve now been assigned a series of op-eds on whatever asinine social media conversation has become relevant enough to get the publication a few extra clicks.

“Close enough, right?” she’d said over coffee, a smile playing on her round face that could almost be mistaken for apologetic. Julie pushes back a dark strand of hair. “You’ll get there eventually. Baby steps.”

You practically slam your laptop closed as soon as you hit your word count for the night, the green journal on your desk becoming more of a reprieve rather than a side project. Your hot pink Hello Kitty bookmark (a previous birthday gift from your editor) sticks out from one of the entries you had planned to finish before you had to take a call. The spine cracks a little as you open it to the same page.

“It’s been a few months now of this little disappearing act. I still find myself wanting to ride around the estate once in a while, even though it’s a terrible idea and I’ll surely be spotted. It’s quiet here, but sometimes I still hear the roar of someone’s car or motorbike in the distance and wish for the noise of the paddock. Charles made fun of me when I told him I still felt young enough to race. But I do!

Another thing I have gotten too used to: the cameras. It’s hard to picture life without a camera in my face, and now I find myself looking for them, even when there’s no chance that anyone would recognize me these days. I have never been afraid of being watched until now, when it should be certain that no one is watching at all. It’s been too long, people’s eyes aren’t as sharp and I’m not on TV all the time anymore. Wearing a hood certainly helps. People still come to the mansion, though. I just saw an advert for a ‘tour’. I don’t get the concept, but it seems to make people happy. They won’t find anything particularly special there, but they still come. Cameras and all.

Sometimes I imagine myself sneaking onto the grounds in the middle of the night. I’d have a thing of gasoline in one hand, match in the other and just…light the whole thing up. The flames would lap up the front door first, then the first floor and upstairs bedroom. They’d travel up and up until they illuminate the whole sky, like one big bonfire. Maybe I’d even bring s’mores. Wouldn’t that be something?

-LH”

You close the journal, a grin forming on your lips. The man was funny, you had to give him that. Not a ton of information here, but much is implied. For one, Hamilton lived out the rest of his days hiding in plain sight. How a man so recognizable managed such a feat was uncertain. You’d come across pap photos once where they had managed to catch him even in a hoodie and mask, recognizing him by his hands alone. He must’ve done something drastic to his appearance, in that case.

Second, people used to tour the estate once the man had made it clear that no other part of him would be accessible to the public anymore. That was clearly no longer much of a thing, but the weird stalker motorist and Mr. Posh could have been involved in upkeep in the years after.

Your phone vibrates next to you and interrupts your train of thought. It’s an email from your editor, speak of the devil.

Subject: Only cool people can read this Hey girlie! VIII’s team was deeply appreciative of your beautiful concert review. I know you’re tired of the music stuff, but his album will be releasing soon. His management got in touch with me and told me that the artist wants to personally invite you to the listening party! Highly recommend that you go, just to show your face. Details are attached below. Congrats! Best, Julia M.

You shut off your phone with an exasperated sigh. So much for a free weekend.

It’s a bright, sunny morning when you arrive at the mansion. You won’t have time to look around in the evening—you’ll be getting ready to schmooze at a listening party instead of investigating.

The cloudless blue sky seems to create space where there isn’t any, making everything feel like it has opened up. It makes the pointed roofs of the place look more majestic than imposing as you pull into the driveway. The plot of grass in the center is overgrown now, various flowering weeds and tall blades billowing in the wind as you make your way up to the entrance.

It smells just as old and damp inside as it did the first time as you walk past the coffee table where you’d found the journal. The stairs still creek beneath your white trainers, but they don’t seem as loud. Like the house is getting used to you. You climb past the first floor and proceed down a narrow hallway. The wallpaper is a deep green color that must have looked vital when it was new, but is now stained and dull beneath a layer of dust. You notice dark, rectangular indents in it that must have been framed photos or paintings. The floor continues to complain under your feet as you make your way to the end of the hall, where one of the doors to a room seems to have been left ajar.

You peak into the gap once you reach it, and gasp quietly. It’s a study. His study. The wallpaper matches that of the hallway, the room small enough to be cozy but not enough to feel cramped.

The study toes the line between vague organization and complete chaos. One one side of the desk, manila folders are neatly sorted in a half-open file cabinet. A messy stack of papers is thrown into a crushed cardboard box on the other. You run a hand over the ornate wooden chair positioned in front of the desk, tilted away just slightly. You imagine someone rising abruptly, perhaps to storm out of the room. It strikes you how clean the surface of the wood is. There’s no dust. Has someone been in recently?

The desk itself seems to have been cleared of the usual office debris. There are, however, a couple of scattered greeting cards on the upper right corner. A birthday card, and another card for retirement. Not exactly news. There’s a picture frame on the opposite corner facing the arched window behind the desk, and you round the desk to take a look.

A large group of people stand in front of what looks to be a garage, all clothed in a uniform the same shade as your father’s jacket. Team photo. You’d recognize that Ferrari red anywhere. Your dad would be ecstatic to know that Hamilton had remained on the team right up until the end.

A ray of light bounces off of two pieces of jewelry sitting next to the photo, and your gaze falls on them next. They’re both rings. One is very classic-looking, a red garnet stone encased in gold. It looks like something a mob boss might wear. The second one looks a bit strange - silver leaves encasing a single white pearl. Very avant-garde, you think. It’s delicate in the way you wouldn’t expect an old sportsman’s jewelry to be. That’s assuming it’s even his. No record of Hamilton ever having gotten married, but you don’t rule out the possibility. You pick it up to examine it more closely, turning it in the light.

You move to pick up the photo again with the ring still resting in the palm of your other hand, blowing off the dust that has created a film over it. Two men are squatting in the very front, and you identify the darker of the two as Hamilton himself. He’s beaming in his red racing suit, a bright yellow helmet between his knees. He has his signature braids tied back into a ponytail. Next to him is a pale brunette man with a square-ish jaw and light, sad-looking eyes. Likely his teammate, whose last name is escaping you. ‘Charles’ something…

Hold on. Charles. Hamilton mentioned him in his journal, making him another potential piece of the puzzle. The two had clearly been close enough to still be in contact long after the man had withdrawn from the public. He might be very old now, but still living. Could he know something…?

Just as you’re about to pull your phone out to look him up, a familiar noise rips through the air. An engine revving. You dare to draw closer to the window and look out into the driveway. Sure enough, he’s there, circling. It’s time to go.

Despite the distance, there’s no way the rider doesn’t see you sprinting out the front door (you really should have found an alternate exit) and towards where your car is parked, whipping out your keys at light speed to unlock it. As soon as you’re inside, you realize that there is metal still digging into your palm. You’re clutching onto something. Slowly, you open your hand.

Fuck, the ring! That’s definitely stealing, but you’ll have to return it a different day. Not like Hamilton will need it back any time soon.

Pocketing the thing in your jacket, you floor it as soon as you’re able to pull out of the driveway. The motorist thankfully doesn’t appear in your rearview, but you hear him rev his engine in the distance. Like a warning.

You smooth a hand over the wide-legged black pants you’re wearing, paired with a form-fitting tube top and red pumps to offset all the black. The listening party was advertised to have been “exclusive”, but the size of the crowd could’ve had you fooled. In the months since you’d published your concert review, it seems that VIII has gained quite a few new friends in high places. You spot a couple of influencers snapping photos with both their phones and flashing digital cameras, several other artists with twice his listeners that you recognize in passing but can’t recall the names of, and two journalists whom you can distinguish by the open laptops and knitted brows. It’d be perfectly fitting for you to be here. That is, if you were a music journalist.

You still aren’t sure why you were invited; you’d made it clear to VIII’s manager over email that you wouldn’t be writing an album review, or live tweeting, or whatever. This wasn’t even your lane anymore. You’d only met the man twice anyhow.

Speaking of which, the crowd erupts in applause as the man of the hour emerges from backstage. Even here, he’s still got the fencing mask on. The singer has on a black turtleneck, over which he has on a black leather jacket with a baggier fit. They’re paired with equally-baggy patterned denim jeans that fall over a pair of red Vans. He is given a handheld microphone, and you’re startled again by how quiet his speaking voice is even with the added amplifier.

“Thank you all for coming,” he says. “You definitely didn’t have to be here, spending your evenings listening to my music. My music! I mean…it’s still so crazy to think that enough people care about my art and my journey to fill a concert hall, to fill this room. This’ll be my first full album. And so, I wanted to use it to tell a full story that was worth sitting through the full hour to hear. I hope it is. Worth it, I mean. Enjoy.”

The crowd erupts in applause, and he takes a small bow before stepping off the low stage and approaching the scattered tables, where drinks have begun to be served. You expect him to sit near someone on his team, like a producer or even his manager. You raise an eyebrow in surprise when he takes the empty seat next to you. His movements are slow, tentative, his shoulders slightly hunched as he settles onto the leather stool. The fencing mask is facing you. If you could imagine the facial expression beneath it based on his tone, it would be a timid smile.

“Mind if I sit here?”

You tilt your head with a lopsided grin. “You’re already sitting here. And I’m not really sure why, to be honest.”

A soft chuckle. “What do you mean? I owe, like, half my career to you!”

“Please,” you wave a dismissive hand, “You were already gaining traction by the time I wrote that review.”

“But it was a damn good review. I’d be an asshole not to invite you.”

As kind as the gesture is, you regret sitting where VIII could see you, especially as you’re now sipping idly on champagne. You feel his eyes on you the entire time the album plays despite them not being visible. In the middle of the second track, your phone suddenly buzzes in your pocket. You wait until the singer seems focused on the front of the room, and pull it out discreetly.

It’s a notification from a news article, and the headline makes your blood run cold.

BREAKING: HAMILTON MANSION GOES UP IN FLAMES, AUTHORITIES SUSPECT ARSON.

You shut off your phone with a trembling hand, setting it down on your lap as you stare blankly ahead. Someone has just set part of a man’s legacy on fire, and you’re certain that you are to blame.

#lewis hamilton x reader #lewis hamilton x black!reader #lh44 x reader #f1 fanfic #f1 x reader #lightning writes

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pinguwrites · 2 years ago

Text

Our True Nature | Tom Buckley

Pairing -> dom!tom buckley x student!psychic!reader

Summary -> You're different, you always have been; you've know that ever since you were a little kid who made your toys float in the air. Despite your great abilities you've pursued a rather humble life, looking for others like you. Your search comes to an end when you realize that your professor's assistant, Tom Buckley — the one you've been harboring a secret crush on — is a psychic, just like you.

Word count: 4.4k

Warnings: smut (minors dni), dom!Tom and sub!reader, age-gap (not specified, but reader is college-aged), praise kink, slight degradation, unprotected sex, semi-public sex, um superpower play??? telekinesis play??? I don't know what that shit's called, overstimulation, mild breeding kink, tom is wild and says dirty stuff, weird magic lore I made up (you can trust me, I used to write fantasy), mild hamilton reference ig, rough sex but not much emphasis on it

Disclaimer: Red Lights characters, plots, quotes, etc. do not belong to me and belong to the rightful owner(s). This is only fanfiction and this is just for fun.

When you first saw him it was like the world around you stopped. The rain that had been pouring down like a storm the entire day ceased its brutal assault, and in that week of dull weather and gray skies, the sun finally peeked out from behind the clouds and cast a heavenly glow around his body.

He looked like an angel. Dark hair caressed by sunlight, eyes as pale blue as a glacier, and the most handsome face you’d ever seen. It was all right there, across the parking lot of the university, just waiting to be seen. A god amongst humans, a flower in a field of grass.

But then the moment passed. He walked away, without any word or acknowledgment, like he never even saw you at all. It wasn’t until later on did you realize who this man was — Tom Buckley, your new professor’s assistant.

You supposed that was when the attraction started. You tried to kid yourself and say that it was actually halfway through the year when he started offering private study sessions, or when he made it a point to greet you good morning every day, or even when he insisted you call him Tom, but you knew the truth. You had fallen for him the second you saw him but were only too ashamed to admit it.

A god amongst humans.

It was a silly phrase you used to describe him. He wasn’t a god. Not even close to one. He was nothing like you. He couldn’t see visions of the future, or make a door open and close at his whim. He was just a person, a person you had a silly, undeniable crush on. A person you could not stop staring at.

He was currently leading the lesson today, showcasing a video on how a fake psychic used tricks behind the scenes to fool her audience, but you weren’t paying attention at all. Your chin was resting in your hand, and your gaze was upon Tom like he was the only thing that mattered.

You could barely see him in the poor lighting. The best you got was a figure and a shadow on the projection, but that didn’t deter you at all. All you wanted was to observe him, the way he moved, the way he talked, the way his hands would gesture as he explained the concepts students didn’t understand.

He seemed to notice your blatant staring, because after the video ended and he turned the lights back on, his eyes locked with yours, and he did what he always did: made you stay behind after class.

“Is something wrong?” you asked. It was a routine question. When the students got up to leave you would approach his desk, feigning confusion, waiting for him to say, ‘No, nothing, I just wanted to look over the assignment with you.’

You were sure your friends thought you were dumb. Why else would you need extra help all the time? but that was a much better assumption than the idea that you were fucking Mr. Buckley, so you never bothered correcting them.

“No, nothing, I just . . . ” Tom started but then trailed off. From this distance, you could properly admire the light freckles scattered across his pale face and took a moment to save the image in your head. When he continued, your attention snapped back. “I have a couple of questions.”

You raised an eyebrow. “Oh?”

“Yeah. Let’s go to my office.” He looked a little nervous for some reason. The walk to his office was spent trying to deduce why. Maybe something was wrong this time.

You sat down on one of the chairs by his desk. His room was filled with all sorts of odd things, namely technology used to disprove — or prove — paranormal activity. Occasionally, this material would be showcased in class, and he and Matheson would do replicas of former encounters to demonstrate how they worked.

You always paid very close attention to those days, in case you ever need the information in the future. How to Evade Ghost Hunters 101!

“What is it? Have I really done something wrong this time?” you joked, in an attempt to lighten the mood.

He laughed. A beautiful smile.

“Of course not, you’re my star student.” Your heart warmed at that. “I just wanted to test some things out with you. For the curriculum, Dr. Matheson and I were considering adding it to the course, and we want your opinion.”

You nodded. “That’s fine with me.”

“Good.”

He opened a drawer and pulled out a tarot card pack.

“We want to do a lesson on how pictures and symbolism can be manipulated to fit the victim’s life,” he said, shuffling the deck. “Tarot cards are so vague and general — The Fool, for example, represents new beginnings and adventure. Is that not the foundation of everyone’s life? To explore, to be inexperienced?”

You agreed. “And how are you planning on presenting this to the class? Give out a tarot reading to everyone?”

Tom chuckled. “I just want to try it out with you, to prove it.”

He held out the cards for you to pick, but you stopped him. “Aren’t I supposed to tell you what I want to know?”

There was a brief silence, and if you looked carefully, you could see a light pink tinge glaze over his cheeks, and his breathing hitch ever so slightly, his Adam’s apple bobbing.

“Don’t worry. Whatever you want to know about me,” you offered, amused at his reaction. “Tell me, what are you looking for?”

“I want to know your secrets,” he admitted. “I want to know what you’re hiding.”

“You’ll be disappointed. There’s nothing interesting about me.”

“We’ll see.”

You picked three cards and placed them down on the table. Each representative of either the past, present, or future, or at least, that’s how you were assuming he was doing the reading.

He turned the first card. It was The Star, reversed.

“Something in the past was bothering you,” he said. “You felt hopeless, like you had no more motivation . . . Am I right in guessing it was the result of something specific?”

“Yes,” you said. Obviously, his reading wasn’t true, how could it be? he wasn’t like you, but he was definitely right about the way people manipulated the symbolism. You doubted he knew the real reason why you had been so depressed.

He flipped over the next card. The Lovers.

He grinned. “I’m sure you can guess what this means. Are you in a relationship?”

You shook your head.

“Then it’s about a potential someone. You’ll find your complimentary, someone you can balance with — it could be platonic, or romantic, but no matter the type of relationship, they’ll be loving, and supportive.”

You looked into his eyes before returning your attention back down to the cards. Oh, how you wished it was him.

He turned the last card.

“The Ten of Cups. Your desires will be fulfilled. You’ll be happy, whatever problems you had in the past will be resolved.”

It was silent for a moment. You expected him to ask you questions of how accurate it was, and how quickly you connected his predictions to events in your life, but he didn’t.

“Do you believe in magic?” he asked bluntly. “The supernatural? You either do or you don’t, I can’t imagine you’d be wasting your time in this class if your opinion was neutral.”

You felt like you’d been put right on the spot. You thought about the right way to answer. “I believe in it, in the sense that I’m open about what we don’t know, and am optimistic about all the possibilities.”

He all but rolled his eyes. “C’mon. That was so wordy. I want to hear the truth.”

He leaned in closer. Your faces were inches apart, and you could feel his minty breath on your face.

“Yes,” you breathed out. “I believe in magic.”

He pulled away, satisfied. “I believe in magic, too.”

You quirked an eyebrow, amused. “Oh? Have you ever seen it in action?”

“Maybe,” he answered vaguely, a grin on his face. “Let me see your palm.”

You wanted to laugh, but you yourself was very eager to comply with his demands, not because you thought the experiments were interesting, but rather you enjoyed spending time with him, and the prospect of him touching you—even though it was only your hand—was thrilling.

Tom caressed the lines on your palms. He was distracted by it.

You weren’t sure what it was about him that made you so drawn. You didn’t believe in love at first sight, it was only something based on lust and looks, but this was more. You didn’t just like him, you found him utterly attractive, in a way that surpassed physicality.

It certainly wasn’t his personality. You thought you two were compatible in mentality, and you got along well, but he was rather boring. He wasn’t fiery nor exciting, nothing that could take you off guard or pique your curiosity.

He was intelligent. He told you he used to study physics, something you just had to respect him for, but you didn’t know that until just recently, and it’s not like his day-to-day actions showcased his genius.

You really didn’t know what it was, and a part of not knowing made it all the more mysterious. But it also made you feel vulnerable. In less than a year, you had become so hopelessly, irrevocably, in love with someone. He could do anything and you wouldn’t blink an eye. He had so much power over you, and he didn’t even know it.

“Can you feel it?” he asked softly, looking up at you.

You pulled your hand away, too flustered. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

He took your hand again, unrelenting. He gripped it tighter, encasing it in his warmth. It felt so nice.

“Between us,” he clarified, his voice low. He was gazing at you intently.

“What do you mean?”

“Are you like me?” he asked, his tone almost desperate. “I see you do things, impossible things. When you drop a pencil in class it floats back up to your hand, when your coffee gets too cold I see you wrap your hand around the cup and make it bubble. No one else notices, but I do. I see it.”

You froze, or rather, your mind was instantly filled with so many thoughts you couldn’t comprehend them all at once.

You thought you were careful with your abilities because up until now, no one had caught you. Not since you were a teenager who copied off others during a test, not since you got your first car and put it on autopilot so you could sleep during a drive, not even since you were a little girl who was too lazy to tie her own braid at school.

“T-Tom,” you stuttered. “I don’t . . .”

And what was that he said about being like him? Was he implying that he could do these things too? That after all these years of searching, you’d finally found another psychic?

Tom’s face fell. “I’m sorry. I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have.” He chuckled nervously. “I don’t know what I was saying. Just forget it.”

He cleared his throat. You still didn’t say anything. It was like someone had pressed a mute button and you couldn’t speak, no matter how badly you wanted to say something.

“You should go,” he suggested. “Thank you, for all the help.”

He stood up, and you did too, mirroring his actions. He lead you over to the exit. “Have a nice day, I look forward to seeing you in class next week.”

You turned around, not wanting to leave yet. “Tom . . .”

He was about to close the door when you stopped it with your foot, budged it open, and leapt into his arms, placing a passionate kiss on his lips.

You didn’t know what you were doing. You didn’t know what you were thinking. All that you knew was that you wanted him. Badly. As you pushed your way back inside the room, you feared for a moment that he was going to shove you off, tell you he didn’t mean it like that, but he didn’t. He pulled you inside and lifted you up, your legs wrapping around his waist, and sat you on top of his desk, returning the kiss with even more intensity.

“Tom,” you all but moaned. You felt confused and dazed, but with the way Tom was nibbling at your neck, sucking and licking, you could tell he wasn’t in the same boat as you. You relaxed, letting everything go. You could let him take care of this—whatever this was. Let him take care of you.

“Can I take it off?” he asked in between kisses. He tugged at your shirt, fingers hovering above the buttons.

“Mhm,” you nodded. “Please, please, please—”

The buttons unbuttoned themselves. You gasped a little in surprise as your shirt was tossed to the side. That was all the confirmation you needed—Tom Buckley was just like you.

The realization that you had finally found another was lost when he started kneading your breasts through your bra. “Such a needy girl,” he cooed. “Didn’t know she could get like that. Doesn’t want to answer my questions but needs me to please her.”

“Fuck,” you let out, surprised at the dirty talk, but pleased nonetheless. “I just want you.”

“I know you do. Staring at me like a piece of meat in class. That’s all I am to you, hmm? Just a hot teacher to fuck. You tell your little friends about me?”

“No!” You whined when his hands went underneath your bra and pinched your nipple. “Ow! I’ve never told anyone.”

“Ah, I knew you were a good girl.”

You whined again and nuzzled your head in the crook of his shoulder, not wanting him to see how flustered he was making you.

“Pretty girl,” he murmured, unclasping your bra, watching your breasts fall out. “Beautiful girl . . . Can I suck?”

“Yes!” you said impatiently. You found it sexy that he kept asking for permission, but also annoying—he needed to get straight to the point, and stop teasing you.

He latched his lip onto your hard nipple, swirling his tongue around the bud, occasionally nipping on it. While his mouth was occupied, his hands were roaming your body, up to your face and down to as far as he could reach, which while you were sitting down, was all the way to your ankles.

He switched nipples and went to your other breast, making you release a sigh of satisfaction. He eventually let go and gave you another kiss, his tongue slipping inside.

You looked down. He was hard, subtly trying to grind himself between your legs. “Mmm,” he moaned against your lips.

His moan was wonderful. If not for your own pleasure, you wanted to continue this just so you could elicit another sound out of him.

In a bold move, you reached down and squeezed his crotch. He let out a sound, more strangled this time, and pulled away, a string of saliva connecting you both.

He placed his hand over the hand that was palming his cock, encouraging you to keep going, with eyes shut and nose scrunched up. He then moved it to lean on your shoulders.

“Do you like it rough or vanilla?” he asked. “I can do both.”

You tried to hide your grin. “Rough.”

He knew that by saying that you didn’t want it completely that way. The actions, yes, but you still wanted to hear him praise you, to caress you, to whisper sweet things in your ear.

“You sure?”

“Yeah.”

“Okay.” He picked you — handsome and strong — and laid you down on the couch. It wasn’t that large, but at least it was more comfortable than his desk, and you didn’t want to wait any longer by going to his place or yours.

“I want to let you know,” he started seriously, “that this isn’t a, uh, one-night stand. I don’t want that, not from you.”

“I don’t want that either,” you said.

“And I don't do this often. Well, I don't do this at all. With other students, I mean. You’re the first. I don’t want you to think that I’m just, how do you say it? playing you?”

You giggled. He didn’t seem like the playboy type at all. In fact, when most men and women flirted with him, he usually got all uncomfortable and quiet, a fact that boosted your ego, as he never felt that way around you.

“This is serious for me, too. Let’s keep it a secret until this semester is over. And when I’m out of your class we can make it public, okay?”

He nodded, and leaned down to kiss you again, soft and delicate.

“Take off your shirt,” you demanded.

He smiled at your behavior. It took a minute, because he was wearing his suit, but he managed to get it off with your help. You didn’t want to damage his clothing, it was probably on the more expensive side, and he looked so exquisite in it.

You admired his chest. He was lean, but you could still see some faint muscles. After all, he had carried you to the couch. He was perfect. It was just what you had hoped for.

This moment didn’t feel real. How was it that you had gotten so lucky? You were here with the man of your dreams, in his arms, and you were about to make love.

“Get on your knees.”

You did as he asked. You had done this a couple times before, so you weren’t really worried. You could even take cock all the way in, but when you saw his size, you gulped.

He guided your face to it. You licked the tip to the base to the balls, wondering how you were going to make it fit. You reasoned with yourself that if you couldn’t you could just use your hands for the rest.

That was, until he slid his cock inside your mouth and pushed it as far as he could. You controlled your gag reflex and started bobbing your head up and down, the sensation causing your eyes to tear, but not in pain.

He wiped them away. “Are you okay?”

You didn’t say anything, not with your mouth filled. You showed your answer by sucking him, fondling his balls, looking up at him through fluttering eyelashes.

“Ohhh, you take it so well. So well.”

He pushed your head all the way down, keeping it there for a few seconds. You breathed in through your nose, trying to keep yourself under control whilst still making the experience pleasurable for him. He seemed to like it, with the way he was rolling his hips against your mouth, even though there was nothing left to fit inside.

Then, suddenly, you felt something rubbing your clit through your pants. You tried to pull off of Tom, concerned at what it might be, when you realized it was him. He was the one doing it, making you feel this way.

He kept your head in place, a pleased smile on his face. “Like that?”

You moaned. You couldn’t concentrate on him, not when your body was being pleasured so good. How much practice had he had with his abilities? How could he focus when you were going down on him? It was probably the age. He wasn’t that much older than you, but he was older, and surely that came with more practice.

He pulled you off of him after a few minutes of you squirming and gagging, placing you down on the couch. He made sure your head was in a comfortable position before taking off your pants and pulling out his cock. Your pussy was still being rubbed, by whatever invisible force he was using, and it was about to make you come.

“I—I’m gonna—”

“I know,” he shushed, pressing his cock at your entrance.

“Let me make you—”

“No,” he growled. “I’m going to come inside of you. Don’t think, just let your professor handle it.”

You knew he wasn’t technically your professor. He was just the TA, but it was still sexy to hear him say that. It reminded you of your student-teacher relationship, the forbiddeness of it all.

You came just as his cock slid in. He sighed, feeling your pussy flutter and your cream leak out on him. He looked down, taking in the view, before pulling his cock out and slamming it back in, taking you off guard.

His pace was unrelenting. You didn’t know he could be so animalistic. He was panting and groaning in your ear, holding your body in place even though you weren’t going anywhere. He was still rubbing your clit — technically — but you didn't mind. You could take another orgasm. Besides, you weren’t sure if he would stop even if you asked. He looked so blissed out, like he was in another world, the only thing driving him his primal instinct.

“Gonna fill you up so good,” he said, increasing the intensity of his pace. The couch was now shuffling a little, moving forward a little bit each time, but Tom didn’t seem to notice. “You need it so bad. Just want me to take care of you, yeah?”

“Yes,” you cried out, rather pathetically. It was crazy to think how submissive this man could make you. You had never been like this with any of your other partners, but with him, you felt safe, like you trust him with anything.

“I can imagine — you in class, giving me one of those eyes you always do. Fuck — the other students don’t suspect a thing, but both you and I know that I’ll have you over my desk by evening.”

The thought alone made your mind whirl.

“I should fill your panties with my cum, make you walk around in it,” he said. That shouldn’t have aroused you as much as it did. He noticed your reaction. “Oh, you enjoy hearing me say those things? Those depraved, dirty things.”

He hit that spot in you, the one that made you go crazy, and you cried out, clutching his shoulders.

“There it is,” he said, mostly to himself, as he kept ramming that spot over and over again. The added sensations made you go limp in his arms. You could feel that familiar coil in your stomach, the one that told you you were going to orgasm again.

You threw your head back, looking up at the ceiling as you came, but your peace of mind didn’t last long. He grabbed your chin and forced you to look back at him, beating that same spot again, all while continuing the assault on your clit. “Look at me, I want to see your face.”

You looked right into his eyes, his beautiful blue eyes, and you could tell an orgasm was coming for him, too.

You felt a little ashamed that in such a short time he had made you come twice, and you hadn’t at all — at least, not yet — but like he said before, he didn’t want you to think, so you didn’t, and let whatever thoughts you had left bouncing around in your head leave.

“You’re wonderful,” he praised, kissing you again. He couldn’t get enough of it. Your teeth clashed briefly, but neither of your cared. He just wanted to taste you. “I can’t wait to be with you.”

With that, he came inside, filling you up to the brim with his hot seed. He kept his cock in, holding your hips in place, until he was satisfied and pulled out.

He laid on top of you on the couch, caressing the side of your cheek as you both recovered and took your breath.

It was silent. Just the two of you, in his office. You had finally found the one. The one you were sure you were going to spend the rest of your life with, all happy and in love like a fairytale.

“I didn’t . . . I didn’t think I’d ever find another,” you finally said.

“I didn’t either. I’m glad it was you. I’m glad it’s you I get to share this with.”

“Hey, what was with the cards? Were you just testing me?”

“Yeah.” He turned to face you. “I wasn’t sure if I was just seeing things. I mean, you get up so early and go to work, sometimes you just imagine a kid opening a door on its own or playing tricks with her assignments. I had to be sure.”

“So, you weren’t intending to tell my future?”

“You can’t actually do that,” he said.

“Yes you can.”

He blinked, surprised.

“I know you said the interpretation is very broad, but it still works.”

“You can actually tell the future?”

“Yeah. It doesn’t have to be with Tarot cards only. But whatever methods, I don’t do it often, I feel like it messes with things. But sometimes I just get these images in my head, and I can’t stop it.”

It hadnt occurred to you that even though you were both psychic, your powers, or at least, the direction you went with them, were different.

“If you weren’t reading my future, what were you doing?”

“I noticed that objects imbued with magic, especially artifacts, radiated energy—a feeling, one that only I could sense. If I gave the same impression on those cards, and you happened to pick them, it would either be a huge coincidence or it would mean you were drawn to them, albeit unknowingly. It was just something to give me more confidence.”

You weren’t aware that was something a person could do. You supposed there were plenty of things you didn’t know. You were looking forward to learning from him, and teaching him as well. You were both in uncharted waters, not knowing where this would lead you both. But it was okay, as long as you had him by your side.

You did worry a little that this intense connection you felt with him was only in an otherworldly sense, that you fell for him because of this magic, but you shook the thought away. That wasn’t true. You wouldn’t let it be true. You loved him and he loved you—and that was it. Nothing more.

“I can do another round,” he said suddenly. “You?”

You grinned and nodded. “Yeah. But this time, I want to ride you.”

He laughed and flipped you both over so that you were on top of him. “Show me how you get off, babygirl.”

Taglist:

@henrywintersdearestgirl

@shroombloom-rry

@meetmeatyourworst

@mrkdvidal1989

#pinguwrites #tom buckley #tom buckley x reader #tom buckley x y/n #tom buckley x you #cillian murphy #red lights #fanfiction

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thetutorshelpiwewjew · 1 year ago

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#Assignment Help in #Hamilton

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yukyuki · 2 years ago

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We’re Good - LN’4

summary- when you two work on making each other jealous it will always come right back to you two in bed. 🍾

warnings- mdni! unprotected sex, language, alcohol, fingering, smut overall 🔞

a/n- omg I wrote this probably in less than an hour I’m sorry for any mistakes but I had to post this I was freaking out so bad!! 🧡🖤 listen to We’re Good by Dua Lipa that was the inspo!

Your relationship with Lando had always been filled with ups and downs. Broke up, made up and repeat. The main reason he was filled with toxic jealousy and you would always get back at him which didn’t help neither of you. Yet none of the others drivers or your friends doubted you were meant for each other.

As of right now you had broken up with him, and were at the After party of the Mexican Grand Prix which Alex forced you to go.

“girl he’s looking at you” Kelly said to you as she glanced over your shoulder seeing Lando’s eyes fixated on you and your beautiful back side. That little black dress worn purposely or not was Lando’s weakness. His lower lip slightly between his teeth and his eyes scanning your figure from the other side of the room was just making him crazier.

“So? He’s dancing with another girl anyway…” you responded to Kelly finishing your martini. Looking towards the dance floor.

“There’s your man…wanna go dance?” you say as she giggled.

“Of course!” she said as she grabbed your hand and to the dance floor you went, as you dance with Kelly you felt a warm presence turning your head you see the one and only Sir Lewis Hamilton.

“Oh I’m so sorry Lewis” you apologize for the sudden closure between the two of you. He gave you a gentle smile and shook his head.

“Don’t apologize…it looks like we were both forced to be here huh?” he said making you release a long sigh.

“Definitely…ugh but what do you mean? You won 2nd place congratulations!” you said smiling.

“Thank you Y/n…um random questions though…you and Lando broke up again huh?” he asked which caused you to frown your eyebrows.

“Oh well…you could say…yes…why?” you asked him as you notice his eyes glancing behind you.

“well if looks could kill I would say I would already be dead and buried” he said as you scoffed softly.

“let him be…he’s surrounded by girls either way…why don’t we dance? can you help me give him a taste of his own medicine?” you say throwing your arms around his neck as he looked down at your showing his pearly whites.

“sure sweetheart but you better pull him back when he comes after me” he said resting his hand on my hip as I nodded.

“I pinky promise…” you say giggling.

Minutes into your devilish plan with Lewis the loud music boomed loudly in the room as your hips were against Lewis yet he understood the assignment followed your pace. Your hands roamed down his hard toned chest and bodied closed together. Lewis glanced behind him as his hand seemed to touch your ass from Lando’s perspective…he never did.

“I didn’t think you would be this good of a dancer” you say smiling as he spun you around making your gaze bump in Lando standing so closer to you, your felt suffocated rolling your eyes you smiled at Lewis and told him you were tired and headed to the bar ordering an ice tea.

Lando leaned on the bar looking your.

“now you’re going after drivers?” his voice his you as you turn to him faking a smile.

“I remind you we’re not together anymore, but if that’s the case you’re going after easy girls that probably just want your reputation and money…and not actual love” you hit back drink some of your tea.

“do you actually love me Y/n?” he asked you getting closer to your small figure. You looked up meeting his eyes.

“You know I fucking do Lando you are just so immature and you don’t see it” you say about to look away but his thumb and index finger keeps your fave from leaving his.

“why were you dancing with Lewis then? You seemed like you were ready to fuck him” he replied as you looked away rolling your eyes.

“yup…you don’t change…what did you expect? for me to just watch you flirt with other girls? Watch their hands all over you, waiting for you to fuck them yeah Lando…I’m not stupid”

• • • •

You both went back and forth yet their was an audience behind you guys.

“What did we miss?” George asked joining the others with Carmen as they took a seat.

“Shhh” Alex hushed as he tried to make out the argument. Lily laughed and started to catch up George and Carmen and the missed parts.

“basically they’re making up…again” Max said laughing.

“just a matter of seconds” Kelly finished looking at your guys again.

“you are such an idiot Lando!” you yelled looking for your bag grabbing it about to leave the place but Lando’s hand quickly grabbed yours pulling you into a forceful kiss. You struggled your way out, but how can a fragile girl like you break out from the grip of a formula one driver that probably lived in the gym. His strong arms held you in place. Before pulling you away.

“you’re coming to my hotel room and we can talk there where it’s just us two and not all the drivers and their girls got it?” he mumbled as you pulled away from him walking out ahead of him as he looked behind throwing a thumbs up to the others running behind you.

• • • •

You both had not said a word the second you stepped into his bedroom. You pushed against the wall as his hand rested on your neck keeping you as close as possible. Lando’s free hand locked the door and your hands pulled on his shirt. Eager for what’s to come he pulled his shirt off throwing it somewhere as he leaned in attacking your neck with bites and wet kissed that caused you to release soft moan into his ear. Pulling on his brown locks you got wetter each second, no touch felt like Lando’s, that was for sure.

Smirking against your neck, Lando knew your body like the back of his hand. He knew you were already so wet for him the tent in his pants grew more and more prominent. His hand moved under your dress pulling your black laced thong off as he disposed of it brushing his two fingers between your folds your knees grew weak and you whined against his lips scratching his chest softly kissing his chin.

“P-please Lando…oh god” you got cut off by his two fingers entering you. He moved that at a fast punishable pace making you grip on his shoulders for support trying to not fall his other arm held you in place. Your moans grew louder.

“F-fuck…L-Lando yes…baby…” you moaned throwing your head back as he took advantage and created a mark on you, which claimed you as his. Your walls tightened around his fingers making him growl into your ear.

“God you sound so hot…I want to hear you like this when I’m fucking you got it?” he whispered scissoring his fingers in you as you moaned before nodding.

“please fuck me already…I’m…I’m close” you whined as your legs grew weaker and your orgasm grew nearer he didn’t stop until you came undone on his fingers as he pulled out causing your juices to drip down your things. He sucked his fingers clean and your eyes never left his as he did. Turning you around he lifted your dress revealing your ass before spanking you.

“you think I would be able to fuck another girl when I have a beautiful girl like you? you’re my only one baby” he whispered into your ear biting your shoulder gently. Breathing heavily you move your ass back on him feeling his bulge, you blush at his words as your sparkly eyes meet his.

“prove it to me Lando” you whispered moving your hand back moving your fingers into his hair. His hands roamed your body before unzipping your dress watching it fall off from you. You hold his hand pulling him to his messy bed that he had left this morning. You kiss him passionately as you both fall on the bed him after you, your tongues against each other before he flipped you around.

“on all fours beautiful” he commanded you in his deep British accent and you obeyed on all fours you hear him unbuckle his pants along with his boxers and positioned himself behind you.

Pulling you close he entered you slowly and deep as you became undone releasing a pornographic moan. Lando couldn’t help but go insane on how he was making you feel his thrusts started slow and deep and he filled you up perfectly in every way.

“f-fuck…Lando yes ah!” you whimpered as he pulled your back against his chest. His hand groping on your breast as he went deeper into you, you bounce back on his holding on from his thighs throwing your head back.

Your moans could probably be heard down the hallways of the hotel floor and there might already be complaints from other rooms but this was how make up sex always turned out with Lando. Hot, explosive and loud and you loved every single part of it.

“Oh my god! Yes…yes right there!” you cried opening your mouth but a silent moan came out twitching inside of you Lando’s groans joined your moans as you both rode out your highs. He thrusts fast at an inhuman pace and you move your ass against him making him reach places he had never reached before.

“Oh fuck! Lando!” you scream finally releasing on him as he held you against him slowly down as he shot out his cum into you staying there catching your breath you touch his cheek breathing heavily pecking his lips.

“God…I love you Lando” you whispered blushing so hard you felt embarrassed, finally realizing how you have behaved in the last 15 minutes of lust and desire with Lando.

“I love you more baby…” he whispered rubbing your thighs quickly hugging your waist.

“no don’t move yet…this feel so good” he whispered in your ear as the blush in your cheeks kept growing you bit your lip at the sticky sensation that connected the two of you.

“you actually don’t like Lewis right?” he questioned with his head resting on your shoulder making you laugh.

“Lando…never in a million years he is such a good friend… and my partner in crime he help me get the man I actually love to fuck me…just don’t tell him that” you say blushing as he smirked.

“don’t you dare Norris…” you threatened as he shook his head.

“don’t worry baby…only I get to know how crazy you get when I fuck you” he said softly as I hit his arm

“so we’re back together?” you asked

“I actually think we never broke up baby” he responded kissing your shoulder.

• • • •

“so apparently you two are back together” Kelly said making you burn yourself with your coffee before clearing your throat.

“w-what?” you ask subconsciously fixing the turtle neck thinking you had exposed Lando’s marks on you.

“Oh Kelly give Y/n a break the whole hotel heard them” Lily added as you couldn’t help but blush.

“Here’s your croissant baby” Lando said taking a seat next to you. As Alex patted him on his back.

“you two are just perfect you know that right?” Carmen said admiring you two as you looked at Lando.

“I think you’re right Carmen…Lando is perfect for me so yeah…we’re good” you say winking at him kissing his cheek as Kelly snapped a picture of you two that she will later post to brag her favorite couple on the paddock.

_______

I got to say one of my favorite smuts I’ve wrote 🧡

#lando norris #formula 1 #formula one #lando norris x reader #lando norris smut #formula one social media au #lando norris x y/n #lando norris x you #lando norris series #max verstappen #lewis hamilton #alexander albon #Spotify #lando smut

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supergraphicgirl81 · 6 months ago

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With A Little Help From My Friends ⋆⁺₊❅.

Formula 1 college hockey team social media AU!

The tight-knit college hockey team, the Silver Blades, run by team captain Max Verstappen, isn't just about scoring goals—it's a chosen family. On and off the ice, the team has each other's backs, whether that's through college assignments, throwing awesome parties, or winning the championship together. Follow these overworked, tired, college students as they post through their day-to-day life.

Authors note: Okay I'm trying this again, the first ones were alright but I wanted to retry this idea and add more detail, plusss more fun characters !!!!!!!!

Formula 1 Drivers Masterlist ❆₊°｡❆

Max Verstappen ⋆.˚꩜ .ᐟ˙⋆

Charles Leclerc ੈ✩‧₊˚༺

Carlos Sainz ༘ ⋆｡⚠︎ ˚

Lando Norris ₊ ⊹ [◉¯] . ݁˖

Oscar Piastri ⋆.⋆✴︎˚｡⋆ˎˊ˗

Daniel Ricciardo (>؂ •́)ᕗ⊹ ࣪ ˖

Alex Albon 𓍊⋆｡° 𓋼 ⁺₊ 𓍊⋆

Logan Sargeant ˖ . ݁ ᯓ .𖥔 ݁ ˖

George Russell °. ✐ᝰ⋆˙⟡

Lewis Hamilton ��⋅꒰ა☆໒꒱⋅⋆

Yuki Tsunoda ‧₊˚ ⋅ 𓐐𓎩 ‧₊˚ ⋅

Franco Colapinto ( ੭ ˘ ³˘)੭‎°｡⋆♡‧₊˚

Alexandra Saint Mleux ˖ . ݁𝜗𝜚. ݁₊

Lily Muni He 𖡼.𖥧 𖤣 𖡼.𖥧

Y/N L/N ° ᡣ𐭩 . ♬♪ ° .

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the-aftonsparv · 4 months ago

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thank you thank you

i love looking at notes from previous all nighters because what the fuck is this

#okay storytime i turned on hamilton after this and #then it helped me speedrun like two assignments

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spaceagebachelormann · 1 year ago

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zigmar i come to you humbly on this fine evening with the simple request that you give me some sort of might duck sustenance por favor and muchas gracias

they can be incoherent and stupid and goofy and silly to the max i just need to rotate this little kids like rotisserie chickens in my mind (esp fulton portman and julie)

random miscellaneous tmd thoughts !

✧ warnings: some of them may be ooc ngl

✧ additional info: u got it pookums 😈😈😈🙏 also these can be read as either platonic or romantic (not luis)

✧ m.list — nav.

♡ charlie conway !

the most insane taste in music literally ever

bro goes from madonna to death metal SO FAST

but ngl his playlist is always the best and he always gets to play music whenever u go anywhere

but oh my god he’d love pierce the veil in present day

HES ALSO LIKE SOMEHOW AMAZING AT MATH. but he cannot do science for literal shit

also his clothing style changes js like his music taste

will literally be kurt cobain one day and morrissey the next (hed hate morrissey though)

♡ adam banks !

every team sleepover/event/literally anything could js be a spontaneous hangout is always at his house

it’s because he’s rich and his house is huge as fuck and he has every board game known to man

just do not play uno because a fight always breaks out (charlie is always part of it)

he’s always the one who ends the fight also

he has this very calming presence that’s so nice to be around and him js talking to whoever got into a fight immediately helps calm them down

also weirdly good at comforting in the middle of the night but never during the day??

♡ lester averman !

he would watch full house religiously prove me wrong

his favourite character is obviously joey because they are one in the same

everyone on the team and their mother has been forced to watch full house while he’s been at their house/vice versa

he can also cook like. decently well !! it’s not something he’d prefer to do but he will for his friends if they’re tired or smth

♡ fulton reed !

this little shit

he is so unbelievably competitive over the smallest things it’s actually insane

typa guy to race u to see who can get to one side of the room first and start genuinely tweaking if he doesn’t win

at sleepovers he refuses to fall asleep first even if it’s just by a few minutes

he could be dead to the world but still have his eyes open cause he refuses to let u win (unless ur his s/o cause he might consider it that way)

♡ connie moreau !

she is definitely a theatre kid idc

her favourite musicals are probably grease, hairspray and heathers

she likes female main characters!!

everytime she gets into a new fandom she immediately starts thinking abt what it’d be like a musical and probably wanted to be a composer at some point

would 100% beg to use the aux on a road trip and then blast hamilton loud as balls

she wholeheartedly believes six is a top tier musical and she will DIE on this hill

(fun fact i’ve met andrea macasaet <3)

♡ guy germaine !

modern day guy would’ve loved basic white girl music

“life is too short to pretend to hate taylor swift” —him

also 100% a britney spears girlie. and nsync and every stereotypical white girl artist

but i wholeheartedly believe britney would be his favourite and he has her whole discography on cassette, cd, vinyl, u name it he has a britney spears collection

also his ass is NOT straight 💀 i’ve never met a straight man who listens to britney spears

♡ julie gaffney !

lowkey a regina george multitude if she wasn’t kinda. yk. a bad person

she’s a mix of cher and regina

everyone at the fancy ass boarding school literally loves her because she’s calm, smart pretty nice etc etc she’s just a really great person to be around

shes that one student who has every assignment finisher a week early, all a’s and 100% in every subject WITHOUT being mean abt it!!

her ass is friends with the whole student population and knows every well and knows all the drama but won’t tell everyone if she thinks it’s too personal (it’s it’s random petty nonsense she tells the team)

♡ ken wu !

secretly rlly good friends with julie but nobody knows even though they do not try to hide it at all

literally wander the halls talking abt whatever just for everyone to be like “y’all are friends???”

also this man secretly loves lana del rey

him and julie will sit on his bedroom floor and literally tell him the most insane and jaw dropping gossip she heard that day while lana is playing in the background

everytime someone asks his favourite lana song he says grandfather please stand on the shoulders of my father while he’s deep-sea fishing on did you know that there’s a tunnel under ocean blvd to fuck with them

♡ dean portman !

is actually very very good at math!!

he was a tutor for the 9th/10th graders for a bit to get volunteer hours and also cause he just likes doing math

you’d expect it to be like doing homework with ur dad and the poor kid is in tears while deans like “WHATS NINE. TIMES TWO.” but he’s actually surprisingly patient

if he’s explained something a few times and they still don’t get it he’ll just try it a different way until they get it and work them through the problem

has rlly strong relationships with the 9th and 10th graders cause of this and is essentially their older brother figure

the amount of 14/15 year olds that he’s given relationship advice too is insane (id be one of the 14 year olds probably)

♡ luis mendoza !

his type is secretly quiet girls cause he finds them rlly interesting and likes the thought of them being happy around him but quiet around everyone else

he’s like yes girl be urself with me

it all stemmed from the girl he liked in 8th grade who helped pick up his pencils when she accidentally knocked his pencil case out of his hand (she was a quiet nerdy girl)

like a whole year later and he’s still trying to rizz her up 💀

he’s one of those guys who takes forever to lose feelings

the girl is actually good friends with him btw

♡ dwayne robertson !

i feel like he is fucking AMAZING at baking

his icon is dolly parton and he heard berry pie so he immediately learned how to bake

if someone he knows has a birthday he either bakes the birthday cake or brings them something he made depending on how close he is with them

and holy shit it’s the most amazing thing u will ever taste and nothing will ever compare

yes he’s one of those guys who will go on an 18 minute tangent on how amazing dolly parton is if someone talks shit about her (same i love dolly)

#mars writing 🧈#lee 🐴#mars silly little mutuals <3 #the mighty ducks #tmd #the mighty ducks x reader #tmd x reader #charlie conway #adam banks #lester averman #fulton reed #connie moreau #guy germaine #julie gaffney #ken wu #kenny wu #dean portman #luis mendoza #dwayne robertson

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