#christianity and fanfic

[galadhir]

Another post in the tag of a villain who is my blorbo, saying basically that people who are villain stans don't understand the story right, they don't understand the villain's victims are people who deserve sympathy. That villain stans must be immoral ourselves because otherwise how could we love a character who had done so many horrible things?

And I'm like - you do understand that sympathizing with the characters who are drawn to be sympathetic is level 101 sympathy?

Yeah, you can empathize with and feel sorry for the human frailties of people who never did anything wrong. Great! That's good. It's good to have sympathy and empathy for good people.

But - and I'm going to go all religious here, because purity culture is supposedly based on Christian beliefs and I am a Christian - you've got to learn to be sympathetic and empathetic to the bad people too.

This is right there in our religion "Judge not, lest you be judged." "First take the plank out of your own eye before you try to take the speck out of your brother's." "Vengeance is mine sayeth the Lord. I will repay." (Namely - it's not up to us humans to take revenge.)

Famously, Jesus stopped the people from executing an adulteress (a crime which carried the death sentence at the time) saying "Let him who is without sin cast the first stone," at which point the accusers slowly realized that they were not exactly guiltless themselves and slunk away.

We are in fact commanded to love our neighbours (where 'neighbour' means 'everyone living on this planet with us.')

And loving our neighbours sometimes requires accepting that people who have done horrific things are still worthy of the respect given to all humans by virtue of being human.

That's a really hard command to obey.

(Frankly we should expect the commands given by a superhumanly good Creator to be too hard for us. God is better than we are capable of being, and that's how it should be.)

It's really hard to look at someone in real life who has done something abhorrent and accept that they too are a person who deserves to be treated with full human rights and dignity.

It's hard to get over the very natural revulsion and anger that tells us it would be righteous to treat this sinner with cruelty in return.

But that would not be righteous at all. ("Do unto others as you would have them do to you.")

Fortunately we have fiction. We can use fiction to help us develop our empathy. The villains in fiction have not actually hurt anyone in real life, so it's safe to handle them. It's safe to figure out why they did what they did, and ask yourself - if you were in their position would you have done better?

Which is also a good question.

"If we say we have no sin, we deceive ourselves, and the truth is not in us." 1 John 18

Which means that (by God's standards) there is no distinction between good people and evil people. We are all just people. We all need grace and mercy.

And we can practice our understanding, compassion, empathy and mercy by loving our fictional villains in a similar way that God has loved us.

Maybe one day we will be called on to forgive a person in real life - to be compassionate and merciful to them - and it will have helped to have confronted the darkness in the heart of man already in our imagination.

Or maybe we'll just learn to be a bit more humble about ourselves while we also have some fun.

We're really not called to stop at Compassion 101. That's only where we start.

[ao3-crack]

(x)

[evie-sturns]

𝙧𝙤𝙖𝙙𝙩𝙧𝙞𝙥 - 𝘾𝙝𝙧𝙞𝙨 𝙎𝙩𝙪𝙧𝙣𝙞𝙤𝙡𝙤

summary: you, the sturniolos, madi and nate are all going on a roadtrip down to new jersey. execpt theres one problem, there's not enough space in the car. you're forced to sit on chris's lap for the 5 hour car ride, you just can't seem to get comfortable though.

contains: smut, teasing, dom!chris, swearing, fluff.

-----------------------°°••....••°°--------------———

the sturniolos have been my closest friends for a while, especially chris, with who ive have grown closer then ever to over the past few years. today is the day that my friend group travel down to new jersey for the summer break.

12:36pm

"y/n get your ass down here!" chris calls out from the driveway, i stumble over, clutching my baby pink suitcase with one hand as i swing open the door of chris's bedroom, which i've slept in last night.

i sprint downstairs, my suitcase smashing into walls behind me while i lock eyes with madi. i run up to her and a loud laugh escapes her mouth "oh my god your suitcase is basically bursting at the seams."

"shut up, im a chronic over-packer." i joke, walking downstairs into the driveway. matt, nick and nathan are watching chris strategically stack suitcases in the trunk. chris's tounge is slightly peaking out of his mouth as he concentrates.

"can we fit one more?" i say chirpily, walking over to the group of boys while dragging my suitcase behind me. chris takes it off me, sliding into its designated spot between the various bags.

"okay tetris king" nick scoffs, jumping in the passenger seat of the car.

before i know it, everyones piled into the car. matt in the drivers seat, nick in the passenger, madi in the far-right backseat, nathan in the middle and chris on the left backseat.

i open the door to the car, theres no more seats.

"oh fuck me." i mumble, folding my arms and waiting for someone to speak up.

"she could go ontop of the car, grip onto the windshield." matt suggests with a smirk on his face, earning a elbow to the bicep from nathan, who leans foward.

after a few more seconds of silence, i break it. "i could try fit in the trunk, theres a little room ontop of the suitcases.."

"y/n no. thats not safe, i dont care you can sit on my lap." chris says nonchalantly, shrugging his shoulders.

i nod, pursing my lips as i crawl in the car, planting myself down on chris's lap. my cheeks instantly flush.

i've never thought about chris romantically, hes always been a platonic best friend. i know he doesn't like me, he doesn't really like many girls in general.

"chris.. im gonna be too heavy." i mumble, purposley putting a small amount of my weight on his lap.

"don't be an idiot." chris chuckles, grabbing my hips and pressing me down, forcing all my weight on his lap. i clear my throat, "are you sure i don't want to squash you."

"hey, i said don't be an idiot." chris says, sitting back in the seat comfortably.

-

3:21pm

we've been driving for almost three hours, i've been just laying back on chris's chest, resting my head back on his shoulder with my eyes shut. nate, madi and nick have been in a debate for an hour if hot or cold pizza is better.

its been entertaining to say the least.

after nick and nate draw the debate to a close a new conversation sparks up from madi.

"have you guys ever fell off the waterslide platform?" she says, a silence fills the car.

"you know how you have to climb up stairs to get up to the waterslide, and you wait on the little platform to wait your turn to go down?" madi questions, we all nod slowly.

"yeah have you guys fell off?" madi continues.

"madi..." matt says from the front in a low voice, i can hear the smile on his face.

i errupt into giggles, my body vibrates on chris's lap as i lean foward, taking my back off of chris's chest.

everyone else in the car laughs, including chris. his lap lightly bounces up and down with each noise that comes out of his mouth, causing me to shift out of place.

i shimmy my ass back into a comfortable position on chris, an audible groan escapes his mouth, my eyebrows furrow and my head snaps back to look at chris, his cheeks are flushed, as soon as we lock eyes he looks out the window, squeezing his eyes shut out of sheer embarrassment.

"chris," i whisper, looking over my shoulder at him. "whats wrong am i too heavy.."

just then i feel something poke my upper thigh. my eyes pratically bulge out of my head as i stare at chris. everyone else in the car is too engulfed in their own conversation to notice me and him.

"im really sorry." chris squeezes out, pinching the bridge of his nose.

"its just your shifting on my lap, i can ask matt to pull into a gas station and ill fix it in the bathrooms-" he rambles quietly into my ear.

"don't worry about it chris!" i say smiling, shifting side to side on his crotch while maintaining eye contact with him.

"stop that." chris mumbles, the tent in his sweatpants growing by the second.

"you like it christopher."

chris's breathing picks up, "fuck."

i press more of my weight down onto chris's bulge with a smirk, i turn back around to face the back of matt's seat, continuously grinding into chris.

i suddenly hear chris’s voice from behind me

“how much longer do you guys reckon we have left?” he asks, his voice wobbling slightly.

“honestly like 20 seconds, we’re pulling into the street now” matt awnsers from the front, him and nicks eyes still concentrated on the road ahead as madi and nate cackle with each other

i continue rubbing chris with my ass, i feel two large hands grip my hips, holding me still harshly.

i pout as i look over my shoulder at chris, his response sends chills down my back.

“i will take away your ability to walk as soon as we’re alone.” he whispers into my hair from behind me.

we swing a left into the long driveway of the beach house we’re staying at, it’s two stories and looks modern to say the least.

as soon as the car stops chris throws me off him out of the door of the vehicle, speed walking up to the front door and unlocking with the key he just retrieved from the mailbox.

i watch as he disappears inside “where the fuck is chris?” i hear nick say while pushing up the trunk door. “he had to pee really bad.” i lie, knowing he ran to the bathroom to help himself out instead.

matt hands me my suitcase with a smile, and i walk up to the front door, which is already half open from chris. i walk upstairs to the room chris and i already decided we would share, long before the road trip ever started.

im met with a double bed, along with a window with a clear view of the beach. i get changed into the sluttiest skirt i can find and a long tank top before walking downstairs, i pull my phone out of my bag to check the time.

6:13

all of my friends are playing cards around the wooden dining table, but chris is sitting on the couch alone, scrolling on his phone. a loud cheer comes from nick as he slams down his card onto the table.

i flop down next to chris, my skirt flapping up slightly. “whatcha up to?” i ask innocently, acting like i wasn’t dry humping him a hour ago.

“nothing just instagram.” he replies placing his phone down on the armrest before looking over at me, locking eyes with chris sends butterflies through my body.

chris quickly stands up, taking my hand and pulling me upstairs, he slams the door to the bedroom shut behind us

“what were you doing in the car hm?” chris taunts, grabbing my wrists and pushing me down onto the bed.

“grinding up on me, giving me a painful erection around all my friends?”

“mmhm..” i groan backwards as chris grabs my chin, forcing me to look up at him as my back lays steadily on the bed.

“did i ask you to do that.” he says, staring into my eyes “or did you just wanna be fucked so badly that you couldn’t wait.”

i was in a state of shock, the good kind of shock though. my bestfriend of mutiple years has me pinned to the bed.

“gonna act like a slut, gonna be treated like one. got it?” chris mumbles, practically tearing my skirt off of my body. he yanks my panties down to my ankles in one motion.

chris pulls my body to the edge of the bed, my legs are wrapped around his waist as my heat presses lightly against his crotch. suddenly he bends down between my legs and blows cool air directly onto my sensitive clit, earning a groan of pleasure and desperation from me.

"more.." i manage to squeeze out, "you're gonna get more." chris says, standing up from between my legs and yanking down his sweatpants to his knees. "be quiet for me yeah?" he groans, rubbing his throbbing tip through my folds.

"i will stop if you get too loud okay?"

i nod frantically, spreading my legs open as far as they can go, revealing myself to chris.

his breathing picks up "ready..?" he stammers, his words incoherent.

"please.." i sigh out shakily, gripping the bedsheets in my fists so tight my knuckles grow white.

with full force chris slams inside of me, bruising my cervix. a loud yelp escapes my mouth as chris looks down at me, some-what checking if i'm okay.

i feel myself stretch around his length, the burning sensation still present. chris grips my hand, intertwining our fingers before thrusting in and out.

i feel each vein of his cock press against my insides. his thrusts grow sloppy and unhinged. strings of moans escape my mouth, chris slams his free hand over my mouth, shoving a finger inside in the process.

i clench around chris, before the knot in my stomach snaps he pulls out, "chris!" i yell in frustration, feeling empty. "shh sh." he shushes me, flipping me over onto all fours,

"quit making noises gorgeous, or none of this will happen again."

he pushes back inside of me, a familiar feeling. i let out a hum of pleasure as chris pushes on my mid back, arching my back. the sound of skin slapping fills the room as i bury my head in the pillow to muffle my sounds.

"good girl.." chris's voice his croaky, his dick twitches inside of me, signalling he's close.

i clench around him for the second time this evening, the pit in my stomach releases with a scream of his name.

chris pulls out, painting my back white "fuuckk..."

he collapses down beside me, pulling me onto his chest with a long hug. "you okay?" he whispers into my hair, his voice breathy.

i nod against his neck, he taps my hip "should we get you changed?"

i hum in response, chris sits up, holding me in a bridal position and walking over to the heaped pile of clothes on the floor, he sets me down on my feet my legs are numb and weak causing me to stumble over.

"careful there." chris laughs, holding me up. "okay, just step through.." he says, pulling my panties up my legs. the rest of my clothes follow, he steps back proudly before pulling up his sweatpants and throwing a shirt on.

"you look cute" chris smiles stupidly, nudging my elbow.

we both walk back downstairs, the rest of the group are scattered in a circle on the floor, playing monopoly. we go sit down and join our friends, the whole time chris is staring at me like he wasnt inside of me 4 minutes ago.

(2 weeks later)

it's the last day of our holiday, me and chris have had a few makeout sessions on the beach, alone. we haven't hooked up again, both realising it's too risky to do in a beach house with 4 other people in the small house.

I'm sat on the grass next to the driveway, observing as chris loads up the car strategically. before i can open my mouth to make a snarky comment about chris's concentration, matt, nick, madi and nate swing open the front door, all their bags in hand.

they all pile into the car again, chris follows, slamming the trunk door shut and jumping in, a small smirk tugs at my lips as chris pats his lap for me to sit down.

i sit down on his lap, nostalgia washes over me, remembering the outcome of last time i sat on his lap in this exact spot.

matt pulls out of the driveway,

its not even been 5 minutes and i'm already grinding on chris through his shorts.

-----------------------°°••....••°°--------------———

omfg i really hope yall liked this, i think one of my best so far, also dont come for me if new jersey isnt a beachy type state, i have NO idea about states my bad, js pretend it is.

@lovingchrissposts @lolasturniolo @ilovedasturniolos

[natailiatulls07]

A Redbull girl

2023 formula one grid & female!driver!reader (mainly redbull)

Summary - Summer break is over and the redbull family is back together

Warning - None, Y/n gets drunk?

Part 2

Reader drives for Redbull

-

yourusername

One last summer dump before we return to the tracks

Liked pierregasly and 38,976 others

username I want to be her.

username The way that everything she does is perfect 🤭

f1 Can't wait to see you again!!

maxverstappen1 Why? just why?

= yourusername Because I can 😌

username She is going to smash everyone out for the first place position I just know it, mark my words.

= username Thats redbull for you, brings out the best drivers!

f1gossip

Spotted: Y/n L/n, one of redbull's drivers, has arrived in Zandvoort, Netherlands only two days before the official race weekend

Liked by username and 4,786 others

username I am so excited to see more redbull Y/n content!

username Even when she hasn't done any makeup or her hair is a mess, she still looks fucking amazing!!

username I love her so much

maxverstappen1

Went out clubbing before the race weekend, it's safe to say that Y/n got the most drunk lol

Liked by charles_leclerc and 45,378 others

username The budlight box 💀

yourusername I am definitely feeling the consequences

= landonorris You thought fernando was tom cruise 😅

= username TOM CRUISE 🤣

carlossainz55 It was a great night though

= estebanocon You can say that again!!

yourusername posted a story

redbullracing

Summer break done and our favourites are back!!

Liked by christianhorner and 35,826 others

username So excited! They are my favourite trio!!

username She's Barbie and they're just ken

username Oh how I miss these guys ☺️

danielricciardo We're back baby

= yourusername Watch out everyone this season will be our season!!

= maxverstappen1 Always is!

yourusername

One and two for Redbull once again,

Liked by maxverstappen1 and 53,982 others

username Congrates babes!

gerihalliwellhorner Totally deserves it girl, looking forward to the bbq 😘

= yourusername Thank you Mother Spice, can't wait to see you 😆

christianhorner A job well done 👏🏻

username I love the whole redbull family dynamic!

christianhorner

Had the Redbull family over for a bbq, loved using my new grill 🥩

Liked by yourusername and 32,754 others

yourusername Thank you so much, loved our gossip session Mother Spice 💅

= gerihalliwayhorner Ofc we need to do it more often!

danielricciardo Thank you Horner family, thank you for making sure Y/n didn't get flat out drunk again lol

username The Horner/Redbull family is thriving!!

maxverstappen1 Thank you! Can't wait for the next!

[artytaeh]

⋯ ⋯ ﹒ 🪻 ’

can i disagree with some of this fandom's perception of tom riddle? surely he won't be a sweetheart like lorenzo, but...

┊ i also don't think that he'd be so intentionally rude, so cold towards his significant other. i honestly think that if tom ever becomes infatuated with someone, he would take pride into getting this someone to belong to him. willingly! 🌷

౨ৎ i guess i'll never know the reason why you ♡ ͡

love me like you do; that's the wonder of you . . .

... tom riddle is a smart man, you see. love, romantic feelings, to act like a couple and all of those things— these might be the most confused that tom riddle will ever be, because otherwise, he's an extremely competent, capable young man.

tom riddle does get confused, a little lost on what to do; he'd torture himself by discreetly watching couples at hogwarts interacting, maybe make some research (= read novels. romantic novels. it was a discovery of a new medieval torture for tom, seriously, to waste his precious time reading some sappy crap like that.) to better understand how to handle you.

how to deal with you.

how to cherish you, so that you don't ever entertain the idea of leaving him. you see, tom is a practical man— he'd rather not commit mistakes, because to fail, means to spend extra time fixing his error and doing the same thing twice, so that this time, it's done correctly.

applying this ideology to you, it means: that 1) tom riddle prefers to always keep your heart happy, so that you don't have doubts about him; so that 2) he won't have to take twice the effort to conquer the city of your heart again.

some think that tom wouldn't like petnames. to be fair, tom would frown at many of those, at first— thinking that they were cringe, disgusting or a psychological way to acquire diabetes. however, when tom gets used to this stir on his heart, those loud heart beatings that cloud his rational thoughts...

... it's excused to say that tom's preferred petname to call you by, is 'my love'.

tom reasons that's because it isn't a lie at all. well, you're certainly his— and because of you, because of your existence, of this enchanting aura of yours; that's how tom riddle discovered love. there are few things that tom is attached to. even fewer that he shows to care about, to have affectionate feelings for; one of them is the basilisk. others are his favorite books, all of them first editions that were troublesome, but endlessly worth it, to get. nevertheless, at the peak of the pyramid, there's you.

you. oh, how your name sounds so angelic, so right, so perfect on his lips. sometimes, tom doesn't call you by any petnames, so that he can mouth each syllable of your name, tasting the acquaintance of the name of his darling on his lips.

⋯ ⋯ ﹒ 🪻 ’

he might call you by other petnames, depending on the occasions:

darling; which, in his opinion, is fairly one of the best petnames to be shared between a couple. because you, reader, are endearing to his eyes— a darling, really, whose presence immediately softens (ever so slightly, because tom riddle still is tom riddle himself, and that mask of stoicism of his won't be broken without putting up a fight.) those previously icy, cold eyes of his.

dearest; if tom is trying to reason with you. unlike what many think, tom would take a deep breath, put on that handsome smile of his, and use a gentle tone to convince some words inside that pretty little head of yours. 'dearest', he calls for you— so gentle, so full of affection; as if reminding you that you are the object of all of his affections and desires. you, his dearest, the one he adores the most. the reminder of such a fact easily melts you in less than a few seconds, which tom sees as too perfect of an opportunity to lose to convince you much faster.

doll; if you look rather ravishing to his eyes, whenever you dress up even prettier than other school days, and wear such pretty clothes and many accessories to further optimize your beauty. beautiful, perfect, flawless; like a doll. a carefully made doll. a doll, that sits there quiet and all pretty, obedient, doing as she's told.

( i must warn you, though, that tom won't entertain silly nicknames from you. tom riddle will ignore you, march forward without sparing a glance at you, not even acknowledging your presence should you insist on the matter. tom won't answer you, should you refer to him by such hideous petnames. you could be about to fall from a mountain, and yet tom won't help you until you address him properly. baby? he's not a child, for salazar's sake! pookie bear? now that might make tom riddle himself throw you off from the mountain's edge— call him such a monstrosity like that, and tom will lose every drop of faith on you. you're a lost cause. )

if he had to choose; yes, tom would prefer if you were obedient. contrary to popular belief, tom riddle is quite fascinated with sweet personas. to have a sweet significant other, who's all smiles and considerate words— it's so, so much easier for tom.

between a brat that trashes around for his attention, and a sweet girl who gently tries to indulge (purely out of concern, wanting him to share his problems with her!)— tom would rather choose the latter.

⋯ ⋯ ﹒ 🪻 ’

quite the darling you are. to boldly take tom's hands between your own, with that frown of yours. no, you're not being whiny; yet tom can see that there's consideration, there's time spent on that little brain of yours, that tries to find the right words to speak with him.

then, when you voice your concerns— that tom spends some time alone from time to time, seemingly hiding something from you, as if to shoulder all of those burdens all by himself...

tom takes a deep breath, swallowing his temper. trying to keep his composure, because tom hates having to justify his actions. with a smile, tom puts on a facade, with a too much convincing tone: "oh, dearest, no. i'm flattered that you noticed that i haven't been having the best days; however, your presence makes everything better. in fact, being with you now, makes all of my problems seem insignificant in comparison."

should his sweet words not be enough to keep your nose out of his business, then tom takes a step further. holding your hands, tom squeezes them between his fingers, gently at first, tightly when you're too stubborn: "my problems are mine to solve, my love. i would never put such a heavy burden on you; your smile is too precious for me to ruin."

sweet, sweet words; some that tom mentally grimaces at, but knows that are necessary and effective with you. talking as if he's doing you a favor on keeping you away from his PERSONAL thoughts and goals.

and that's how tom pushes you way. gently, smoothly— so that you'd have to rethink this moment over and over, for you to understand that once again, tom riddle has tricked you; tricked you into doing what he wants. because without a fight, without you daring to bother him further... tom riddle made you go back to your own business, and leave his alone.

⋯ ⋯ ﹒ 🪻 ’

however, when tom is in a better mood and less stressed with his own goals, he'd find it funny, entertaining even, if his darling tried to be bossy. to pout, to want some sort of control. it's hilarious for him.

so, he indulges you. well, sort of— tom tricks you into thinking that he gave in to your commands. to your whims. in a sneaky way, tom makes you think that you're in control!

the one who's in charge is you. yes, darling, of course. he pats your head, gives you that charming smile of his. with such a serene expression, tom briefly raises his eyebrows, mocking you inside that devious mind of his, as he says: you are absolutely right, dearest.

tom riddle doesn't really mind that you aren't consciously aware that the one in charge is him. that's fine; no, seriously, go and brag about it!

because ultimately, tom knows that what he says, goes. that with some sweet words of his, a little touch here and there, that you'll soon see the reason and comply to whatever tom wishes you to say, to do, to behave.

he does is so smoothly, that even for the outsiders, well... it'd be hard to realize that all that tom riddle is doing to you, is nothing but manipulation. and you're oh so easy to manipulate— it was a challenge at first. now, it's more of a chore; tom barely blinks through it. he knows you so well.

however, so that you whining and getting used to think that you're having things done your way, tom throws some praises and compliments here and there.

touching you chin, gently brushing his thumb on your lower lip; tom's gaze intentionally softens, as he praises: 'you're just too good to be true, my love.', whenever you act accordingly. when you do as he says.

brushing a strand of yours away from your face, so that he can further admire the physical features of his beloved: 'i sincerely can't take my eyes of you, darling, when you are so good for me like this. pardon the way that i stare— you're too beautiful.'

and with even more sincerity, tom riddle isn't sure where his manipulation ends and his genuine care for you starts; tom isn't sure, whether his words are now a muscle memory of his, or if he truly means them.

but he never allows himself to discover the roots of this thought. to actually find out if he truly is such an emotionally shallow person, or if his weakness for his darling is deeper than he realizes. no— this is one of the few matters, in which tom would rather remain ignorant about.

⋯ ⋯ ﹒ 🪻 ’

because tom is such a gentleman with you...

opening doors for you. walking two, three steps ahead of you as soon as the entrance is upon sight, tom will open the door for you; his arm keeps it open for you to enter or leave the room first, and so those grayish-green eyes of his watch you, as you pass by. then, tom will enter just behind you, following your lead, quickening his steps to go back to his rightful place by your side. he lies to himself, saying that he only does such a small gesture to effortlessly keep you by his side. tom would be telling the truth, if he doesn't interrupt the thought that he enjoys to escort you— because, deep down, tom genuinely appreciates your company. every step, every minute you spend together. 'here, love. please, continue; what did you tell your housemate, then?'

tom riddle refuses to let you carry heavy books. so, as if it was muscle memory and so smoothly that you can't do anything about it, tom will carry your books along with his, as soon as you leave the classroom. it's not that he finds you useless, incapable; rather, tom riddle perceives you as a... preciously delicate, fragile little thing. most of the times, tom does it so nonchalantly that you don't even notice; you're too distracted by your conversation, to notice how tom carries your stuff, busying his arms. however, should you notice or worry that you're being a burden to tom in any way; tom shakes his head at you, waving off this silly insecurity of yours: 'i know you can carry them, beloved. however, allow me to do it for you. i am your boyfriend, am i not?'

offering his hand for you to take, whenever there's a higher step to be climbed up, or tricky stairs on your way. tom will do it too, to give you some kind of support, should you jump off of a particular high edge. whenever you wear high heels, tom would be specially careful with you— he offers his arm or hand for you to take, walking in a much slower pace than usual, so that you won't overexert your feet. we can't have his darling getting hurt, now can we? no bruises, no pain, no redness on your skin undesired by him, nothing to interrupt the lovely time you're spending together. 'take my hand, my love; it's quite high for you. that's it, darling, good girl.'

whenever you're about to sit, tom grabs the back of your chair, pushing the seat backwards for you to take, then helps you settle closer to the table. only then, will tom take his own seat in front of you. it's something that becomes so, so common between both of you, that sometimes you find yourself taking a few more seconds to sit down, whenever you hang out with your friends; unconsciously, you'd wait for tom to gently guide you to your seat. oh, you're spoiled.

leaning down to get the material you accidentally knocked out; if he's not quick enough to notice, then tom will keep his hand on the edge of the table, so that there's no chance for you to hit your head. 'quite the klutz, aren't you, darling?' — with a lighthearted tone, so that he doesn't come by as mean, tom couldn't help but to tease you just this time, — 'next time, let me get it for you, dearest. now, careful with your head.'

⋯ ⋯ ﹒ 🪻 ’

... and because he's always so soft-spoken with you, well, how could you listen to your friends, in case they notice that maybe tom riddle isn't as a good guy as he lets on? that perhaps, he is a little controlling. that maybe, he's too overprotective of you.

→ and of course, being the fool you are, you stroll to the lion's cage (or should we call it snake?) and deliver all of this information on a silver platter for him.

SAT SIDEWAYS ON HIS LAP, tom settles your thighs to rest on top of his, while a hand is respectfully kept there; caressing the smooth skin, rubbing circles on the bare skin of your thigh, just inches underneath the hem of your skirt.

tom riddle keeps up a serene expression, sometimes humming in acknowledgement, to show you that he's listening to this ramble of yours. if it's a topic that seems to have bothered or upsets you, then tom will keep another hand on your lower back; he soothes you with small movements of his fingers.

oh, how funny. so this ravenclaw friend of yours, told you that it isn't normal for tom, your boyfriend, to comment whether you roll up your skirt during summer? that such a thing is being controlling? now that's something tom will have to deal with. perhaps, he'll only have to frame this irritating ravenclaw girl; have you ever thought that maybe, she's interested in tom? that must be why the ravenclaw is filling your pretty little brain with such absurd exaggerations of his doings. how lucky you are, to have an attentive boyfriend that easily notices when a friend of yours has bad intentions.

( for obvious reasons, tom despises amortentia. he finds it disgusting, but more than that, tom riddle perceives amortentia has a rather pathetic tool to get someone's affection. tom will never use it on you— he doesn't need to! however, he will get his hands on one, to use it on that nosy, insufferable ravenclaw friend of yours. only to prove his point. so that this nosy girl acts disgustingly flirty around tom, so that you'll come running back into his arms, crying about such an awful friend and that once again, tom was right. you apologize to him, for doubting his assumptions. you end this friendship and cut ties with the ravenclaw girl. and tom, well, tom riddle has once again rid both of you from troublesome outsiders. )

ah, now this is entertaining! so these friends of yours, housemates, have noticed that tom has been keeping an eye on you. now, dearest, that's rather silly, don't you think? so what if you seem to find the same familiar faces in the same space as you? do you really believe your friends' theories? that he sends his followers ''friends'' to follow you around the school? darling, hogwarts is quite enormous and spacious, yet all of you study together in the same castle. it's inevitable, to see familiar faces, here and there.

( however, tom will blame his followers. how difficult can it be, to follow, to stalk a girl like you? and to go unnoticed as they do that? sincerely, tom stares at them with such disgust, such disappointment, that his followers tremble under his gaze— the future dark lord even mentions the idea of getting rid of them. of throwing them away. after all, why would he need such useless, such incompetent boys like them, if they can't follow simple orders correctly? it's excused to say, that you'd never suspect being stalked again. 1) because tom reassured you that such a thought is rather silly; and 2), because these followers of tom riddle do a much better job. out of fear. )

oh, darling, what silly friends you have! sincerely, it seems like you only attract observant delusional friends, or attentive paranoid companies!

in the end, it doesn't matter if your friends tried to alert you about tom's toxic concerning flaws traits. because in the end, at night, he will have you nuzzling on his lap, holding you so tenderly; all of these warnings disappear into thin air, when tom makes you laugh at such accurate ridiculous accusations.

in conclusion: no, tom riddle would never be rude or snap at you; not if he can help it, not if he can keep his temper in check. he believes that the best way to keep you so effortlessly devoted and infatuated, to keep you willingly by his side, is to treat you with care (even if sometimes he has to manipulate his way into it). how lucky you are, to have such a obsessive caring boyfriend!

🪻 ; . . . fandom : harry potter.

— i'm endlessly faithful to theodore nott. however. the first to kick the entrance door to my heart was tom riddle. and what a man (i can't fix him. i would let him ruin my life him tho!), ladies and gentlemen.

the headers + gifs + icons aren't mine. credits to the respective creators ! 🌷

[ao3demographicssurvey2024]

In the AO3 Demographics Survey 2024 - an unofficial demographics survey of 16,131 AO3 users - 17% of respondents identified as Christian, while 69% identified as having no religion.

To see more analysis, including a list of the common write-in answers for this question, please view the full results on AO3.

[hanasnx]

hip to be square.

MINORS DNI 18+ ᶻ 𝗓 𐰁 .ᐟ WARNINGS: themes similar to the movie | allusions to violence and murder | sexual content | sexism | fiancée!reader | dumbification | degradation | rough sex | anal play references | anal fisting reference | drug references | allusions to asphyxiation.

“You’ve worked up quite a sweat.” PATRICK BATEMAN notes in thinly veiled repulsion. Those cruel hands on your hips restrain themselves, and you can feel that tension against you. Instead, he pours his ample strength into yanking you back on him, choked sounds emit from your gaping mouth. In a way, this is an obligation, he can't really enjoy the way your cunt squeezes him, or how his thumbs fit those perfect back dimples—not in the way he wants to. If it were up to him, he'd squeeze the life out of you while he screwed those lifeless brains to pieces. Finally a bitch like you would be put to good use, eyes rolling back as the lack of oxygen grows black dots in your vision. You'd claw at his grip around your neck, easing in to crushing your windpipe, the light would die as he watched, and he wouldn't even falter in his pace. Those hips would still be fucking you, like he is now.

Hard and rough, it hurts. Abusing your cervix as you're bent over the perfect white covers of his California King. You bounce on him like you want more, but in reality you're limp as he directs your body the way he wants it to move. An irrefutable force against you that you are powerless to soothe, unbeknownst to you your only line of defense to protect you from his wrath is the ring on your finger.

You're engaged to him.

In his eyes it was an unavoidable tragedy. All his friends are your friends, you live in his area, and you're a ten minute commute from work. If he's looking to blow off steam during lunch, he'll pop in for a visit and use you up with a pillow covering your head. You don't catch on to the fact he doesn't want to look at you while he ravages you, never question why he insists on hitting it from the back if he can help it. It aids that you've got a nice ass, plump and round and fits in his palms when he handles it. When you aren't being a priss, sometimes you'll let him slip a finger into your asshole. At one point he managed to convince you to let him fist you, but he'd slipped you one to many things that night, narrowly avoiding a messy emergency room visit. There was no way he was going to wait up for you in such a place so late at night. What would he have told everybody? That his fiancée was some junkie? Absolutely not.

Nails dig into your skin at the memory, the salt of sweat burning that raw that makes you mewl. He steels himself from demanding you shut up, instead assuaging the urge by smacking your hand away when you reach back to hold his in a petty attempt to get him to let up. Cruelly, he drills you. Those pathetic noises release in pain, you don't even sound human. "What are you to me?" he spits, looming over your little body as his every muscle contracts fucking into you at a reckless pace. You're sore from his weight, but you can't do a thing about it when being treated like shit never felt so good. A ring of cream foams at his base, taken from you as your cunt confuses punishment for desperation, your expression twisting so hard you'll get wrinkles early. He'll have to divorce you before that happens, otherwise people will think him vain. "Answer me, you idiot, you're supposed to answer me."

Somehow, you don't notice how he's talking to you. How it's different than the cold and distant nature you're accustomed to in public. "Nothing." you breathe out. "I'm nothing." You chase whatever you can get your hands on, scrambling for whatever stupid response you can muster in this state. Apparently, it pleases him, a sea of moans flowing out through his deep voice as he satiates himself using you like a sock with your name on it in his room.

[winterinhimring]

Me, putting my characters in situations: This is for the character development, you’ll have to deal with it.

Me, in situations: Lord, I know this is for character development but I don’t like this character development.

[lilirari]

𐙚 ‧₊˚ ⊹ ( ⚽ ) . . . FAKE TEXTS ⁵ !

ଘ(੭ˊᵕˋ)੭ ꩜⋆ we're back, baby ! please take this as a compensation for not posting any writing in the past week... i promise i'll work on all my drafts soon 🤞 anyways, who wanna be the cockroach to my lobster ? 🫣

© LILIRARI, 2023 ★

[nirvanawrites111]

Set My Wings on Fire (DPR Ian x Fem!Reader)

Summary: You're smitten by the love of your life, Christian Yu and he's being painted as a dangerous person. But, you don't care cause that's your man and you're going to stick beside him. You're pretty much in love with a villain, but he's super sweet to you. Non-celebrity AU.

Pairing: DPR Ian x Fem!Reader

Word Count: 2024

Warnings: Smut, PIV, oral sex (male rec), mentions of murder, praise kink, good girl, unprotected sex, creampie

This is part of a NEW SERIES called Duality. It's all about embracing switch!energy. Part 1 will be sub!reader and Part 2 will be dom!reader. Some of the stories will be 2 idols x reader, and some will be just 1 on 1.

Smut below the cut.

"You need to leave him alone," Your best friend voices as they stare at the large television on your wall. The dim glow casts a shadow across your living room.

You press your lips together and cross your arms. A tightness crawls up your chest. This is the last thing you want to hear right now. You are tired of hearing this comment right now. You feel around your couch for the remote. You can't bother to listen to the news channel any longer.

"Look," you begin, forcing yourself to meet their gaze. "I know Christian very well. The media is trying to make up stories about him. He's not the monster they're making him out to be," You speak up and express your feelings. You twist his ring that he gave you a year ago, and you decide to wear it as a necklace.

You know Christian better than anyone. Everything he does has a meaning and purpose behind it.

You stare at the image of his picture plastered on the television. His usual neat dark brown hair is a mess, and his eyeliner is smeared. Underneath his picture are large red letters "WANTED" that contrast against his pale complexion. Sure, he might seem dangerous to someone else, but to you, something magnetizes you to him.

"The man is a killer, Y/n. If he comes here, you need to turn him in. You don't want to go to jail for housing a fugitive, do you?"

"He isn't a killer. I don't care what the media is saying."

You pick up your phone off the couch table and see that he texted you five minutes ago that he was on his way. You quickly text back and tell him to wait until your best friend leaves.

"This man has brainwashed you. Hopefully, you realize the truth before it's too late." Your best friend raises their hands in defeat and stands up. "I gotta go. I'll see you at work tomorrow."

"He's not, but thanks for stopping by," you reply, trying to smooth things.

Your friend stands up and hugs you. You're glad they are leaving. There is nothing that will convince you that Christian is a bad person. Even with everything you know about him, you would never turn on him.

You walk with them to your front door, and the soft patter of your bare feet echoes against the polished hardwood floor.

Once they leave you close the door only to be slightly pushed open, revealing Christian.

There he is.

The only man that can make you melt to your knees. You want nothing more than to feel his hands all over you.

"Beautiful," Christian, your accented lover, whispers your favorite nickname. He steps into your home. His words allow you to fall to your knees and please your man. But, you don't want to act too thirsty.

He removes his hood with both hands and reveals his hair in messy, shoulder-length loose curls. The two of you stand in your foyer, and your eyes connect.

Christian has such a dark energy around him that it attracts you to him for whatever reason. It pulls you in so closely, like a moth to a flame. Regardless of what others say, you can still see the good in him. He's been nothing but kind, patient, and loving to you. So, really, that's all that matters to you.

"Are you okay?" You ask him.

Christian removes his sweatshirt, and your eyes trace over his tattoos. You run your hand over the one tattoo over his heart, your name.

"I'm so much better, now that I'm with you."

"I'm sure you know they're looking for you."

"I know," Christian sighs. "I'm also wanted for something. What is it this time?"

"Murder."

Christian stares into your eyes, and he can heart your heart beating fast. No one has ever cared about him more than you. Your unwavering loyalty is something he's searched for many years. Now, he's found exactly what he needs within you.

"Do you think I'm guilty?" Christian asks you.

"No, but if you did it, I know there was a reason."

"Good girl. You know your man oh too well," Christian praises you. He knows it's exactly what you need to hear in this moment.

Your lips curl into a smile, and you haven't looked away from him. He knows that nothing about him scares you. He's told you his deepest, darkest secrets. Because he knows he can trust you.

"I do. My best friend was just running their mouth talking about how I need to leave you alone. But, they don't know you like I do."

"Do you need me to handle that?"

"No, never that."

"We have some catching up to do. Don't we, angel?"

"Yes."

***

You turn on the shower and step into it first. Christian follows behind you. He presses you against the shower wall from behind. "My angel.. so pure. So innocent," he whispers into your ear.

Christian runs his hand down your back, enough to give you chills. You've missed feeling his touch against your skin.

"You know I'm far from innocent."

"Compared to me. You're a saint."

Christian attacks your neck with kisses. This instantly sends a warmth throughout your body. You've missed the way his lips feel against your skin. You don't care what happens when he's out of your sight. Because this man adores you, he'd do anything to protect you.

"Sweetness, tell me.." Christian pulls away from you and turns you around to face him. His gaze penetrates your eyes, searching for something unspoken. "Do you really love me?"

His eyes are full of emotions, and you can see the pureness in his question. But, at the same time, why would he question you this way? You've always supported him no matter what.

"Of course, I do. Why wouldn't I?"

"Even if I had to leave you for a bit?"

Your breath quickens, and you can feel your stomach churn. Is he going to up and leave you? Does this mean he's going to end things with you?

"Where are you going?" You twist your necklace.

Christian picks you up, and you wrap your legs around his waist as the warm water cascades down the two of you.

"I'm not sure. But, I'm leaving in 48 hours."

"Because of what I saw on the news?" You try to piece everything together. Did this mean that it was true? You didn't want to ask him what happened because you trusted him.

He promised you he would never do anything that would jeopardize his time with you. He stated that from the beginning. But, now, it felt like things were going differently.

"Yes."

"I'm coming with you."

"Hell no. I will get this sorted out. I will come back for you."

"No, I'm coming with you."

"Angel?"

"Yes."

"Don't I always come back for you?"

"Yes.. but."

"No, buts. Listen, you have to trust me. I will come back for you, okay?"

You nod. But, your fear is he's going to leave you.

"Angel, don't look so sad. I wish I could take you with me. It's going to pain me to leave you."

"Well let me taste you for the last time."

"Of course, angel."

Christian releases from his arms, and you get down on your knees. You look up at him.

He strokes your face and looks at you in such a loving way.

You hold your hands behind your back and swirl your tongue around his dick until he's halfway in your mouth.

You hum your favorite song and move your mouth up and down his length. This could be the last time you taste him, so you want to savor the moment.

You close your eyes and move faster and hear him moan. You love hearing him vocalize his satisfaction for you.

"Go deeper for me, angel," Christian instructs you, and you have no problem following instructions.

You take him deeper into your mouth, and he cradles the back of your head. He's moving with you to the point where you two are rocking as one.

At this moment, you are breathing through your nose because you only want to please him. You live to serve him. You are hopelessly devoted to him.

"Fuck.. just like this," Christian groans. "Don't stop, angel. God, you're so beautiful like this."

"Mmmhm," you barely manage to say because you have your mouth full and wouldn't want to have it any other way. Tonight has to count and hold you over.

"No one else can suck me the way you do. You're so amazing, angel," Christian continues to praise you, which encourages you to keep going because you know he's so close.

"You want this nut don't you?"

You nod without missing a beat, and both of his hands are on the back of your head. He's practically fucking your throat at this point.

He cums down your throat, and you swallow all of it.

Christian pulls you up to kiss you. He slips his tongue into your mouth and kisses you. As the kiss deepens, you can't help but run your fingers along your pussy only to find that it are dripping for him.

"Thank you for that amazing blow job, angel. You're always amazing."

"No problem."

Christian wraps his arms around you. "Mhmm.. I'm ready to feel all of you now. You want that, baby?"

"Yess.."

"How do you want me?"

"From behind.. like this." You turn around, place your hands against the shower wall, and arch your back.

Christian places his hand against your lower back and moves his dick along your entrance. "You know I love taking you from behind. Do you want me here or do you want back door."

"Here.. I want to feel you deep inside me. I prefer anal when I'm pegging you."

Christian kisses on the side of your neck. "I know baby.. next time when I come home. We can celebrate with pegging." He sucks on your neck and inches himself into you.

Feeling him inside of you feels like home. There's nothing like having him deep inside of you.

"You're so tight for me, angel," Christian whispers against your neck, kissing gently against the spot he just sucked on.

You moan out his name and enjoy him being inside of you again.

The feeling is euphoric, and you get lost in the moment of being one with your lover again. His hands cover and clasps with yours as he strokes into you.

You hope you celebrate with him, but you want to enjoy this moment. You arch your back a little more as he increases the pace. Each thrust sends waves of pleasure throughout your body. It feels too good. You deserve to experience this type of heaven on earth.

Christian holds you in place as he slows down with each backshot he gives you, and he reaches from behind and runs his hand down the front of your love nest. He moves to your clit and strokes it.

"Yesss, baby! I love when you rub my clit," you moan out.

"I know you do." Christian continues to rub it while you tighten around his dick. "My baby is close. Are you going to cum on my dick?"

"Mmhmm," you moan. But, at the point, you're already trembling from the combination of his teasing your clit and being buried inside you. The sensation is perfect. It's a feeling that never gets old. No matter how many times he gives you an orgasm, it always feels as good as the first time.

"So, be a good girl and cum for me."

"That's it.. baby. Cum on dick." He instructs you and talks you through it. You obey him easily. You release onto his dick. He's right there with you as he pumps into you until he cums inside you.

"Mmm.. thank you, baby," you say, trying to catch your breath.

"No, thank you angel. You were wonderful as always. I can't wait to celebrate with you when I come back."

If you enjoyed this please reblog. It helps other find my work.

Part 2

[bloodyymaryyy]

Gossip girl xoxo ~

F1 grid x driver! Reader

Side note : I don't know why it took me so long to write this but here we go

The reader is a driver on red bull at checo's place

Request : no

Part 2 /part 3 / part 4 / masterlist

It all started when y/n a young talented woman joined the f1 in red bull racing, having won 2 World titles at f2 finally getting the recognition she deserved.

When she was younger she looked up on a lot of drivers that had retired by the time she joined at 2019 like Sebastian Vettle, Lewis Hamilton, Fernando Alonso, Michel Schumacher, Niki lauda and a few others.

Having her room filled with posters, signed photos, cups, shirts, pictures of her and her idols, paddock passes and everything.

Her childhood crush on Jenson Button was a best kept secret,. Very few knew about her crush and she preferred it that way because it was going to be awkward because if it got out, because come on they work together in a sense, he had interviewed her multiple times.

Driving along side max both at 17 had both good days and bad, with competition racing against your idols, your friends was a bit of a struggle in the beginning but as the months passed they all learned to not take whatever happens on the track outside of it and then she and a few others like Max, Charles, Lando, Oscar, Pierre and some other people getting more serious with the races.

The fans favourite moments were when before they race they waving at one other from inside of their cockpits, or traditions they did before the race, or even when they gathered around gossiping when and if they could whenever they were. Outside at a cafe? Yes!, at their hang outs? Yes!, at their grid walks? Yep! And the fan favs at press conference and before the races. Twitter going crazy about that.

There are so many talks.

When you spend almost half of your time on a place With so many people, either loud or whispers you Will learn so many things and hear so many things which you probably shouldn't hear or know but it's hard to not acknowledge them like an engineer from Mercedes fucked someone from redbull in hopes of learning information about the car so Mercedes could be better.

Or that a redbull engineer got his wife little sister and best friend pregnant the same month that he got his wife pregnant With his second child.

Some times you hear rumor regardless of whether that may be true or not....

Christian horner talking and fucking a girl from his team which when you learned that you didn't know what to do because Christian was a father figure to you and Max having shity fathers. Be cautious when you were around him? Desapointed? Sad? Or disgusted? You didn't know for sure either way and you went to max first with the information you had. At first he was just like you. A wave of emotions washed over him like it did to you, then you both discuss and decided on what to do and that was to wait and see if it's true or not, to not tell anyone nor his wife which you were close to or anyone for that matter and never mentioned it again... Verbally anyway when you saw him texting someone in the presence of his wife you exchanged looks, knowing looks or side eyeing each other when you saw them together talking a few meters from everyone else whispering . Which a few months later the texts of them were linked and you learned that a week or so from the first race of the season when you were tagged in a post about it

(Side note: I took actual tweets of that because I can't be bothered to make fake ones but also I am trying to edit it to have her be mentioned in them)

Hey I am gonna do a part 2 because it doesn't let me put more than 10 so.... Sorry

[ef-1]

Transcribed Excerpts from Christian Horner's hour long Interview that are batshit insane and so narratively dense you'd think they're lifted wholesale from a book, featuring:

The most in depth, behind the scenes view of what transpired in 2018

Fords CEO getting in touch with Dax to gush about how much he likes Daniel

Christian feeling vindictive towards Daniel

Christian comparing Sebastian and Max

Christian comparing Daniel to Roger Federer

How Christian had to mitigate Helmut's shitshow and personally asking Dietrich to give Daniel everything he wanted

Hilarious rapid fire in the end and his perspective on the failure of Ferrari

●●● <- indicates a time skip

Dax: In tennis you see guys when they lose steam, they break apart.

Christian Horner : you see that with checo.

●●●

[Dax mentions that in Christian's position, a lot of people would not have invited Daniel back into the family. "Because Daniel turned his back on the family." ]

Christian: Daniel's a great guy. Very badly advised in his early career. Everybody fucks up at some point. I think he recognizes that he made a mistake. He didn't have good advice around him at the point he left us. Having spent time outside the family he realized what he had here was actually good. It was horrible to see that it got worse and worse after us. It was actually this time last year in Mexico where I sat down with him in my hotel room, I told him you need a complete reset- take a year out. Come back to us.

Dax: He's such a win for you guys.

Christian: Totally.

Dax: you sent Daniel to Jim Farley [ CEO of Ford] and I know Jim Farley and he got in touch with me and told me "That Daniel Ricciardo guy is the greatest!" I'm like to him: he's the dream, send him anywhere.

●●●

Christian: He's [Daniel] a confidence driver, when he's got his mojo, he one of the fastest guys on the grid.

Dax: he's lethal.

Christian: yep.

Dax: he's got that magic thing that people either have or don't have in my opinion which is: there are winners and there are not winners

[you're not ready for this lol]

Christian: He came to us, he's one of our juniors, I remember going to watch him in formula 3, he really stood out. Very smooth. Just great. Naturally. Like a Roger Federer kind of style behind the wheel, very very classic. Light touch. Great, great skill. And then he came through the system [RB program] when we had Sebastian Vettel, 4 time world champion- Mark Webber retired. We chose Daniel as the Junior, with no expectation on him and he started beating Vettels ass. he won 3 races in 2014 when we had FAR from the best engine, Sebastian never won a race that year.

Dax: Even his time at Mclaren, it sucked for him but he's the only one who won a race.

Christian: He IS the only one who won a race.

Dax: and for a long time now.

Christian: and Renault he had great performances. [...] he's got to feel the love. He's got to feel comfortable in the environment that he's in. Some of his races for us were- absolutely outstanding.

●●●

[Christian about the 2018 negotiations]

Christian: I asked Dietrich to show Daniel love. Helmut was obviously pro Max, I said if you could just balance things out, let him [Daniel] know you want him. Dietrich said "no problem, I'll talk to him" so he took Daniel upstairs after the race in Austria to talk to him, and they were there for well over an hour.

Dax: To the point you were nervous?

Christian: I thought SHIT! But they reappear, and they're both smiling, I tell him: "Dietrich, how did it go?" He says,"No problem, don't worry about it. It's not even a question [that daniel would leave]"

Christian: Then we went to Germany, and his engine blew up. His engine kept letting him down, letting him down, letting him down. But from there, we went to Hungary, and we got his paperwork [Daniel's contract] for a TWO year deal all sorted out. Daniel's manager came to me and said 'listen Daniel is nervous about the engine' because we were going to switch to Honda so his manager said: 'he'll do ONE year' I thought wow. That's not really what we talked about, because in 6 months we'll be having the same conversation. So I remember I went back to Dietrich, and I said, "it's about relationships. It's NOT about contracts. If he wants a one year contract, give him a one year contract," so at this point: he's got everything he wants. Also, at that point, Daniel was doing a test for us after the Hungarian race, I thought Daniel will sign the paperwork on Monday, suddenly Monday goes and he's in the car on Tuesday. I'm starting to smell something because this is an enormous deal, you'd have thought he'd be in a rush to sign this contract. And he didn't sign the contract before he got in the car in the morning and I thought he'd sign by lunchtime but it didn't happen. He had to get out of the car and go straight to the airport because he's flying from here to LA and I thought he'll call me. I'm feeling something at this point.

Dax: you know you're about to be broken up with.

Christian: yeah.

Dax: if your girlfriend didn't show up to lunch then dinner-

Christian: exactly. So- he [daniel] rings me, I was in the car with Geri, he tells me "I just got off the plane, I arrived in LA, and I've been thinking on the flight, all the way here- I'm not going to sign the contract. I'm going to take another contract. [...] he tells me Renault? The engine that let him down for 2 years? I was convinced, I was CONVINCED- because Daniel has got a sense of humour- I thought- he's taking the piss. I thought come on. I told him: come on. There is no way. You're not going to Renault, stop fucking about, just sign the contract. After 10 minutes he finally persuaded me that he was going to Renault. It was disappointing.

Dax: I wanna applaude you, because a lot of people who go through that experience think: fuck you.

Christian: there was an element of that. I thought: go and suck on a lemon for a bit. But actually during the pandemic, I remember he called me and said "Christian I hate to say this to you but you were right"

•••

Christian thinks Max > Vettel

Christian about Alex and Pierre being teammates with Max: he broke them

[Very confused in this part because Christian like? Says the best thing for Checo to perform is to forget about Max, stop trying to compete with him, stop looking at his data? Girl you are NOT selling it rn]

•••

When Christian is asked to analyse Red Bull's champions, he thinks Sebastian and Max are diametrically opposed . Sebastian is your stereotypical German, he would be at the track until 11 to analyse data. Max is not interested in all the detail [devasting news for all the bitches who spent years trying to dunk on Daniel by calling him not technical, Christian seems to think that Daniel and Max share a natural ability that doesn't rely on data.] He [Max] Gives you just what he needs to go faster. Max hates testing, has no interest in it.

●●●

Christian confirms he has a lucky toilet.

●●●

Christian says in 2014-18 Red Bull came this 🤏 close to selling to Audi.

●●●

Christian: Drive to Survive is the Kardashians on wheel

●●●

Christian: You get characters like Gunther Steiner. How scary is he. He used to work for us, I had to be the one to fire him.

●●●

Christian on why he believes Ferrari have failed over the last 15 years: Ferrari is a national institution instead of a Team. It needs to become a racing team again. Too many people have input at the top.

[distantdarlings]

HARD EDGES // t. riddle

RATING: R / 1.6K WORDS

Tom Riddle x Reader Insert (no gender-specific details)

+ SUMMARY - You decide to ask Tom to the Winter ball and he reacts a bit differently than you would have expected. (Romance, slight angst?)

+ WARNINGS - Implied smut, heavy kissing, heavy petting, light choking, Tom is kind of mean (but I mean, it’s Tom Riddle) language

+ MUSIC (listened to to while writing) -

ATE MY HEART - SEVEN XTC

---

Tom’s eyes found mine in a fiery rage. His lips pursed gently as he struggled with what to say. 

“Look, if you can’t just answer like a human being, I’m going—”

“Shut the fuck up,” he growled, snatching your wrist from your side. He yanked you behind him and started abruptly down the hall. You glanced around nervously at the few people still scattered around the area. A few of their eyes found the two of you as Tom cut like a knife through the small crowd. You hid your face as best as you could, feeling your cheeks begin to warm. You knew they were probably just trying to see what in the world Tom Riddle was up to—it had nothing to do with you. But, Merlin, did it feel like it. 

He turned the nearest right corner sharply, away from all the prying eyes, and led you down to the end of the hall before swinging you in front of him. Your eyes found his only for a moment before he shoved you roughly into the room behind you. You nearly fell back as you stumbled into the second-floor male lavatory. His eyes glowed red with incomparable fury. 

His wand waved behind him in a quick spell and the door shut suddenly with a slam. The large lock on it dropped with a heavy clunk. Your heart rate quickened quite rapidly. Hopefully, this wasn’t the biggest mistake of your life and you were able to make it out of this alive. Not that Tom would kill you…You’re pretty sure anyway.

“I want you to repeat the question to me,” he demanded, “and don’t interrupt me while I’m thinking of a response.” You struggled not to roll your eyes. You shrugged out of your robes—it was getting a bit hot in here.

“All I wanted to know was if you wanted to be my date to the Winter ball. I wasn’t trying to make you uncomfortable or anything but when you sat there gawking at me like I had two heads, I got a little pissed and—”

“Okay, okay, shut up,” he interrupted. His eyes dropped to the floor as he seemed to be figuring out an impossible equation in his head. His fingers ran through his curled hair as he glanced around in thought.

“It really doesn’t require that much—yes or no?” you spoke. He angrily glanced at you, silencing you with his eyes. You sighed loudly, hoping it would convince him to answer a little quicker. Why was it this difficult? If you were so repulsive, he had to lock you in a bathroom and ponder the meaning of the universe, to agree to go to a ball with you…well, then maybe you didn’t need to be here. You started towards the door.

“No!” he shouted, he pushed you back into your original spot. “Please just let me think.”

“What is there to think about?” your voice began to rise. “It’s a simple yes or no question, if you don’t want to go, just say no. I just thought since we’ve been paired together in potions and all, you might want to go as friends.”

“As friends?” he asked, almost as if getting reassurance. Your stomach dropped a little.

“Yes, as friends,” you responded, ignoring the knot in your throat. “We don’t have to be anything to go to a ball together.”

“Why would you ask me in the first place, though, surely you could’ve asked….erm,” he glanced around, thinking of someone to say. “Malfoy, or someone else. Don’t you have a bit of a thing for him?”

"Oh, you idiot—don't you see?" you breathed, the sound strangled in your throat. 

"What? See what?" he demanded, eyes wild with anger. You had never seen him this angry before. You’d never really seen him show anything outwardly except for the usual cool, confident façade he plastered on.

Your eyes flicked back and forth between his, trying to find any soft edge in them at all, but being left empty. You sighed in defeat, letting your eyes flicker to the ground. 

"See what?" he demanded once more. He stepped closer to you and craned his neck to try and meet your eyes again. You scoffed and pushed him back. 

"I'm not going to make myself look like a fucking fool if you don't know what I'm talking about, Tom!" you turned from him, crossing your arms. You gathered your robes from the floor and began to walk towards the door.

"What on Earth are you talking about—I don't understand. If you would just tell me—" he cut himself off, grabbing your wrist and pulling you back to him. He pulled hard enough to wrench you to his chest. You pressed roughly to the hard material before backing away. 

"Sorry," he muttered. You shook your head.

"Don't apologize, Tom. I—I just wish I didn't have to explain it to you."

"Please," he breathed, not breaking eye contact. You were sure he was so self-centered, he likely thought it was something relating to his reputation or something of the like. A professor talking badly about him, one of his friends spreading a rumor about his family, something. 

You searched his eyes. The hard edges were all but gone and had been replaced with a cloud-like shape. His eyes bore so deeply into yours, that they might leave a scar. Your eyes flicked down to his lips briefly, wondering so desperately what they might taste like. Sure, he was a dick and made you so fucking mad, but when you thought of him, the thoughts were becoming less and less negative. 

You prayed that anything you said would come out slowly after being perfectly calculated, but that so rarely happened.

"Tom, I—" you breathed. His lips parted slightly. His eyes searched yours. His brows knitted together. The silence between the two of you was heavy and pressed down on your shoulders like an anvil.

"Please just—"

And you pushed yourself to your toes and pressed your lips to his. He tasted every bit of what you’d always imagined. His lips were rough with a musky flavor coated with the tang from the apple he'd just finished. His lack of movement was devastating.

Your gut clenched and you accepted defeat. You pulled back and looked at his shocked expression. Well, this had easily been the worst night of your life and you thought it might be best if you discussed moving schools with Headmaster Dippet first thing in the morning. You stifled a wince and looked down. That was your cue to go. 

"I'm sorry, I'm just going to—"

"No." He grabbed your arm, once more pulling you back to him. His lips found yours again. This time, he handled the movement, moving your lips just as he wanted and no other way. You wondered if he'd ever kissed anyone before. 

You shyly placed your hands on his collar where the first button sat wide open. Your fingertips gently brushed his throat. He made a low humming sound that echoed in his neck, vibrating your fingers. His fingers found their way to your hair, curling his fingers tightly into each strand. In any other situation, it might’ve hurt, but in this one, it did nothing but push you on. 

He tilted your head to the side with the strong grip against your scalp and effectively deepened the kiss. At this smoothened motion, you gasped against his mouth, to which he responded by walking you back into the stone walls and crushing you against them. His hands released your hair and quickly found your neck, holding your head staunchly in place while he painted your lips with his spit. As soon as you tried to rearrange your head’s placement, his thumbs came to rest on either side of your throat and began to press ever so gently. You sighed shakily, feeling the utter control he currently exerted over you. Your hands confidently moved forward to wrap themselves around his tight waist, feeling his hips stutter as you pulled them closer to you. His grip on your neck never once faltered. He pulled back.

“You think you can walk away from me?” he growled lowly, his lips capturing yours once more in a swift, rough bite. Blood pooled against your tongue. You stifled a whimper at the pain.

“You think you can just kiss me and then leave? That’s the end of it?” he spat, his fingers ever so slightly tightening around your neck. “No, that doesn’t fucking happen.”

Your lips parted weakly and you nodded fervently. Whatever it was he needed, wanted, said, you’d agree. You’d do anything to feel his lips on yours again. His eyes found your lips as your chin raised in an attempt to meet your mouths once again. A mocking smirk found its way onto his face. Dick. 

“You are mine,” his chest rumbled against yours. Your eyes never left his, though they fluttered in anxiety. One of his hands left your throat and grabbed one of yours still curled around his waist. A tight grip on your wrist loosened your hold against him. He directed your hand up to his face as he watched your eyes closely. His lips came down to brush against your fingertips with a feather-light touch. You couldn’t look away. 

“Say it,” he murmured against your fingers. 

“What?” you whispered. His grip around your wrist tightened to a bruising clamp. Your eyes watered.

“Say that you’re mine.”

“If I do, will you kiss me again?” you nervously joked, trying to hide a laugh at the look he gave you. He all but rolled his eyes as he slowly pressed his head into the crook of your neck. He ghosted his lips along the surface of your skin. Your eyes fluttered closed as you tilted your head to give him more access to you, every part of you. He gently dragged his lips up to your ear where he pressed a chaste kiss just below it. You shuddered.

“If you say that you’re mine, I will take you in this bathroom right now.” 

Part Two

[anitalenia]

𝒕𝒉𝒆 𝒆𝒃𝒐𝒏𝒚 𝒉𝒐𝒖𝒓 .𖥔 ݁ ˖

𝒃𝒂𝒍𝒆!𝒃𝒂𝒕𝒎𝒂𝒏 𝒙 𝒘𝒊𝒇𝒆!𝒓𝒆𝒂𝒅𝒆𝒓 ₊˚⊹ ᰔ 𝘺𝘰𝘶𝘳 𝘩𝘶𝘴𝘣𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘤𝘰𝘶𝘭𝘥𝘯’𝘵 𝘴𝘭𝘦𝘦𝘱, 𝘵𝘰𝘰 𝘩𝘶𝘯𝘨𝘳𝘺 𝘧𝘰𝘳 𝘴𝘰𝘮𝘦𝘵𝘩𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘰𝘯𝘭𝘺 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘤𝘰𝘶𝘭𝘥 𝘳𝘦𝘢𝘭𝘭𝘺 𝘨𝘪𝘷𝘦 𝘩𝘪𝘮. ₊ ⊹ ౨ৎ ˖ ࣪⊹ 𝐂𝐎𝐍𝐓𝐀𝐈𝐍𝐒 𝐒𝐄𝐗𝐔𝐀𝐋 𝐂𝐎𝐍𝐓𝐄𝐍𝐓 ✧˚ ༘

— 𝖔𝖙𝖍𝖊𝖗 𝖑𝖎𝖓𝖐𝖘 ˚୨୧⋆｡˚ 𝘥𝘤 𝘮𝘢𝘴𝘵𝘦𝘳𝘭𝘪𝘴𝘵 | 𝘮𝘢𝘴𝘵𝘦𝘳𝘭𝘪𝘴𝘵

˚☽˚｡⋆ 𝑩𝒓𝒖𝒄𝒆 𝒄𝒐𝒖𝒍𝒅𝒏’𝒕 𝒔𝒍𝒆𝒆𝒑. The silence was too loud and his room was too cold — his arms and torso were left bare to freeze thanks to you (he was too much of a gentleman to snatch the blanket off you anyway). The heavy rain smacked into his windows pointedly and purposefully; with every loud drop it made his lip twitch in annoyance.

The air was sharp and frosted, it burned his nose when he breathed in too deeply and it made him wonder if Alfred forgot to turn the heat on — better yet if you turned it off, knowing you hated to fall asleep too warm and Alfred was too meticulous and thorough to forget to turn it off at all.

It was dingy and dismal, dark and dreary just as Bruce preferred it to be, so little going on for him to be so awake and agitated but yet… maybe that was just it. The silence, the boredom, the macabre sense of monotony on an unfamiliarly quiet Saturday night — so little going on it was driving him mad.

Bruce stared up at the ceiling with his arms laid out on his shirtless stomach, restless but tired. His limbs were sore and heavy, his body bruised and battered, yet his dark eyes couldn’t help but flicker over to his window ever so often when he thought about what was on the other side of it — the source of his calamity.

He’d stare through the droplets of water at the blurred kaleidoscope of lights as they shone onto his floor, not eagerly per say just habitually; Bruce seldom ever saw a peaceful night in, so unaccustomed with the sweet domesticity of crawling under the covers at 10:30 pm and kissing your lover goodnight — he was usually so busy, for Gotham never slept and crime never seemed to stop.

No, Bruce couldn’t sleep; his thoughts a morbid mess of batman-esque obligation that made it impossible to close his eyes.

You were a different matter entirely as Bruce turned his head to look at you; snuggled up on your side of the large bed with his thick, black comforter surrounding you, breathing gently on the muscle of his shoulder and sleeping soundly, beautifully.

His pretty little wife.

His eyes looked over the sharp shadows of your sleeping beauty. From your wispy eyelashes, to your cute little nose, to your softly parted lips, a soft smile adorning the corner of his mouth as he did — he couldn’t help it.

Your hair was frizzy and tangled messily around your head, your soft breaths ever so often stuttered with an adorable snore but Bruce couldn’t help but think how beautiful you looked anyway as he raked his eyes over your face fondly.

As he did he realized how grateful he was that you didn’t need to worry yourself with the things that he did; you were too innocent for the cruelty of Gotham City, too pure and divine; an angel wrapped in wicked tapestry.

Even now, in your pale white pajamas on black silken sheets you looked too fragile for them, like they could wrap their shadowy arms around you and swallow you whole — just as the city could so easily do if he wasn’t there to protect you.

If Batman wasn’t there to save you.

I don’t care, Bruce. I love you anyway.

That’s what you’d always say when Bruce would settle down in bed beside you with a heavy sigh and whisper why do you stay?, on those long nights when he’d come home brutally battered and fatigued. After a night of being heavily reminded to the real dangers waiting just outside his door like a pack of feral dogs and how easily they could ensnare you in their jaws.

I don’t care. I love you.

He loved you too, he really very did.

With that final thought, Bruce was still caught staring at you with a soft look of love on his face when you gently fluttered your eyes open, your body sensing his awareness before your mind could.

He watched patiently as you groggily looked around before eventually meeting his gaze, his eyes getting even softer at the adorable look of confusion on your face.

Your eyes tiredly looked back up at him despite the darkness surrounding you two, able to see his frowned lips and dark eyes clearly, “Bruce? Why are you still awake?”

Your voice was raspy and tired, a small yawn following your statement that made pity tear at his heart for waking you up.

Bruce ran his hazel eyes over your face some more before he responded, unable to stop cherishing you.

“Couldn’t sleep.” He simply responded, voice low and intimate, words spoken in the bare space between his lips and yours.

You settled into your silken pillow with a small huff, eyes focused more on Bruce’s face now as the grogginess gradually melted away and your vision became clearer — the silence and rain thrumming calmly around you. It wasn’t a normal night in Gotham City without the rain.

“Well, did you try?” You teased just as quietly as he, smiling a little at the chuckle he gave you in response.

“Yes, of course I tried. It clearly didn’t go as planned.” Bruce mumbled back with a faint snicker, speaking just loud enough so you can hear him over the rain pattering on the windows, a small smile now quirked on his sharp lips.

You hummed in acknowledgment, eyes looking between his, knowing Bruce well enough to know when he was lying.

“I don’t really believe you. What’s keeping you awake?” You sighed with furrowed brows, resting your head right next to his bare shoulder to look up at him better — maybe if you pouted in that cute way he liked he’d tell you honestly.

Bruce faltered at that, looking down at you with a heavy heart; he couldn’t possibly tell you that he felt guilty laying in bed with you when he should’ve been out there, out there protecting those who needed him. But the fact of the matter, one he couldn’t argue with, was that you needed him as well.

He couldn’t possibly tell you how conflicted he really was but probably shouldn’t have been; two parts of him sharing the same mind and body but each with entirely different obligations — the irreconcilable duality that was he.

One part of him was Bruce Wayne; millionaire, orphan, husband, you needed that side of him, you deserved to have him for at least one night. But he was also Batman, and Gotham always needed him.

He was haunted with a classic case of Jekyll and Hyde but instead of one side lusting for murderous intent his alter ego longed for rightful justice in the grandest city of injustice. Batman was the only one who could live harmoniously in the dark, the only one capable of doing the things he did. It was an enervative dichotomous life of matrimonial duties and moral obligation.

There were two men sharing the same halves of the same soul and Bruce couldn’t decide which heart to listen to without making the other one feel guilty.

“Just work stuff, honey. It’s nothing you need to worry about, trust me.” Bruce dismissed after a short moment, shaking his head gently with a reassuring smile on his thin lips — like that could convince you of anything.

You narrowed your eyes at him slightly, registering the slight blue bags under his eyes and the crippled fault in his smile, all small clues of his devious, well-intentioned deception.

“Which work stuff?” You prodded carefully, raising a brow at him as suspicions already began to brew in the back of your mind as to what he was really referring.

Bruce chuckled again at that, loving your caring and inquisitive nature any day but wishing you’d just drop it already. He really couldn’t bear weighing any of the pressure he carried on your delicate shoulders, fearing you’d crumble under the weight of it.

“Really, it’s…” Bruce looked back up at the ceiling in indecision, searching for the right words, “it’s nothing I can’t handle, okay?” He looked back down at you with confidence, his voice firmer than before but still softly spoken to get his point across.

You narrowed your eyes at him with that, knowing it was a response you fully expected but were still annoyed to hear.

You were aware that he was lying to you but also aware that he wouldn’t tell you no matter how much you begged him; he never liked to tell you anything about his Batman related problems and it greatly frustrated you for some reason.

As his wife didn’t you deserve to know at least something? You were fully aware of what you were getting yourself into when you agreed to his long awaited proposal. After all, you didn’t just marry Bruce Wayne but you married Batman as well… you could handle the truth even if he didn’t seem to think so.

You sighed anyway, unable to mask your irritation towards him for keeping you in the dark. Your lack of sleep didn’t help the influx of annoyance either.

You took your head off his warm shoulder and went to turn around away from him, your fatigue easily irritating you more than usual.

Bruce licked his lips and sighed, having already disappointed you in an attempt to protect you; a small price to pay if it meant your pretty little head wasn’t clogged with constant, pained disquietude like his was.

“Fine, don’t tell me.” You muttered more to yourself than anything, fussing with the blanket you had wrapped yourself in during your slumber and now seemed to be stuck in.

Before you could fully turn around though Bruce laid a warm, consoling hand on your forearm that made you pause, “Hey, hey, wait.”

You lingered a moment at the feel of it before turning back around to face him, expression a little more sour than before — tired and impatient.

Bruce felt guilt swirl in his stomach at the look on your face, knowing he was disappointing you but also knowing it was for the best.

He kept the hand on your arm, leaning up and wrapping it around your back to bring you into his chest, his other arm going behind your neck and tucking you into his side like you were his most precious doll — you were of course.

You didn’t fight him even if you wanted to, enjoying the warmth he provided and the safety you subconsciously sought out snuck tight in between his arms.

“Bruce.” You grumbled anyway as you settled against him, his arm releasing you for a moment to pick the blanket up and over his waist so there was nothing separating you two from each other.

You felt hard plains of muscle underneath you when he did, a flustered pinkness appearing on your cheeks, then slowly crept in hot embarrassment at the fact that your husband’s carefully structured body that you’ve seen many many times still managed to make you shy.

You melted into his side, albeit a bit stiffly as you were still annoyed with him and wanted to blatantly show it, your arms stubbornly slotted against your chest to separate yourself from laying completely on his.

When Bruce was done adjusting the blanket, the bed moving as he did, he settled still and looked down at you with those kind eyes of his you loved so much, the ones that always flustered you when you stared back into them for too long.

The arm behind your neck pushed you closer to him while he took his right hand and wrapped it around your chin, his palm so warm and big against your jaw that you couldn’t help but sigh in submission.

Bruce gently forced you to look up at him, his eyes staring down at you softly but earnestly.

“Alright, hey, don’t be like that with me. If there was something I thought you really needed to know I’d tell you. Otherwise, it’s best I keep that side of myself as private from you as possible. I hate the thought of you being in danger because of me, because I exposed you to that side of myself you didn’t need to see.” Bruce whispered genuinely, minty breath fanning over your nose as you stared up at him, seemingly calm now and even just a little regretful for being so upset with him in the first place.

“Just give it a rest honey, alright? I promise you, it’s nothing you need to worry about. Do I ever go back on my promises, hmm?” He said sweetly, looking down at you with insistent but loving eyes in the expectation of you responding.

You paused for a moment as you registered his words, still curious to know what he was really thinking about because you just couldn’t help it. You worried for him, wished he’d be more open with you so you could help him in whatever way you could. However, you also didn’t want to stress him out any more than he already was either, your mind picturing all the purple bruises littering his beautiful body pitifully.

So, you just shook your head like a scolded child, “No… you don’t.” You’d have to bite your tongue for now, pouting up at him cutely — Bruce was just too sweet to argue with sometimes and he knew it.

Bruce gave you a charming smile, gray shadow washed over the angles of his straight nose and narrow cheeks. His brown hair was more unkempt than usual, wavy tendrils of it fallen around his face. He looked so handsome, more tranquil this way, as he leaned down and gave you a peck on the forehead, a sweet hum sounding in the back of his throat.

“That’s my girl.”

You sighed happily, giving in to him completely now and wrapping an arm around his chest so you could burrow against him; he wrapped his arm around you tighter instinctually, enjoying the feel of you against him as he looked up at the ceiling in content.

Nothing was better than being with you, so much so that Batman himself felt satiated from his lonely perch in the back of Bruce’s mind.

You stared out the large, arched window on his wall for a few quiet moments, watching as the rain quickly fell down the glass one by one as Bruce softly traced his textured fingertips along the spine of your back.

“It always rains, you ever notice that?” You murmured tiredly against his skin, in a daze from the tingling sensation on your skin as he caressed your back in gentle, loving touches.

Bruce looked away from you a moment when you spoke to spare the window a disinterested glance, “What? You don’t like the rain, Mrs. Wayne?” He teased you, his spirits higher than before as he looked back down at you even if you couldn’t see, his nose filled with the sweet smelling shampoo you used — coconut and vanilla.

You smiled a little — you loved when he called you that.

“Well of course you do. You’re Batman, you’re supposed to like depressing things.” You spoke with a smile, only teasing him as your eyes drifted shut from the comfort of his body against yours, muscles melting against the black sheets nestled between his own.

Bruce chucked at that, his hand ceasing its calming motion, “oh, is that right?”

You hummed with an amused smile on your lips, nodding your head, “mmhmm, yes sir.”

Bruce scoffed playfully at that, looking down at you with a fond playfulness in his eyes before gently taking his muscled arm out from underneath your head.

You lifted your head up curiously to look at him, wishing for the moment to not be disturbed, only to be gently rolled over so that Bruce was laid on top of you and you were now sunken into the inky black abyss of cushions beneath him. Your lips parted in a slight gasp, staring up at him with those beautiful eyes he loved so much in surprise.

“Now now, Mrs. Wayne, don’t go calling me that unless you plan on doing something about it, it’s in bad taste.”

You giggled at that, a joyous and twinkling sound that made Bruce tense up, his eyes darting towards your lips and his heart quickening in his chest. You always had such an effect on him even if you didn’t know it.

“How ‘bout you do something about it then?” You whispered up to him sensually, voice low and playful. You could feel the air surrounding the little bubble you two found yourselves in change heavily as you ran your hands softly over his midsection, his light skin cold and soft, muscles hard and firm as you traced your fingers delicately over each individual ab until Bruce was twitching at the feeling.

He glanced down at your hands hotly, already worked up from your minuscule touches alone, his skin tingling from the sensation as a familiar heat started to twirl in his lower tummy.

He looked back down at you, eyes more hooded now but just as eagerly as rain pounded on the windows somewhere in the background — you couldn’t focus on anything but the sound of his warm breaths and the gradual throbbing between your own legs.

“Yeah? Would you like if I did something about it, Mrs. Wayne?” Your husband mumbled huskily, a teasing smirk on his lips as he lowered down closer until his face was just above yours, his big arms pressed into the pillow on each side of your head so you were surrounded by him.

He could see the way you inhaled at the name, felt the way your nails dug into his skin for a subtle, fleeting moment. He always knew all the right ways to turn you on, knew all the right words to say to make you melt in his hands like warm syrup — you were certainly just as sweet.

You stared up at your husband with heavy breaths, mouth watering for a taste of him, eyes blown black with love and unabashed want as he sat in the reflection of your irises. Your skin felt hot and your thighs tightened around his waist, arms aimlessly tracing the ridges of muscle that coated Bruce’s front; it was in an innocently naive way now, so unaware of how badly it was affecting Bruce himself as your initial confidence dwindled down to need.

You impatiently waited for him to make a move, give into the desire you both so clearly felt as your eyes ran over his shirtless body and perfect face in the mean time. With every exhale of breath out of his mouth you found yourself inhaling it back in, breathing his air and smelling of Bruce’s aftershave, Bruce’s shampoo, it was all just Bruce, Bruce, Bruce.

He had completely overwhelmed your senses with his smell, his presence, his very existence and it was making it hard to think clearly — only he plagued your thoughts so much it made your fingertips buzz to feel more of him.

It was in moments like these where the sheer size of Bruce was brought to your attention; he was much more muscular than you, all sharp edges and ridges of pure muscle and destruction that could destroy anything he put his hands on.

It was ironic to you, how those same hands that broke bones were the same hands that caressed your skin in the softest of touches, in the softest of ways, irrevocably incapable of breaking you.

Bruce believed he was all carnal ruination — hands made to break and fists made to destroy. He believed he had a dark side in him he couldn’t control, that Batman was the outlet for all the frustration he felt towards the injustices of the city and how easily it corrupted the lightest of souls. He believed he was made to hurt, to cause ruin — a reason why he never took a single human soul no matter how rotten it was.

But you believed he didn’t give himself enough credit, which is exactly why moments like these were so important to remind him.

You swallowed nervously now as you looked back into his eyes, your fingers faltering in their movement as they stilled on the angles of his hips, right outside the tight band of his black sweatpants.

“Yes, Mr. Wayne, that’s exactly what I want.” You whispered back up to him in a velvety soft tone, eyes looking at his pink lips and then flickering back up between his hazel irises lustfully; the look in them was too intense for you to handle but you sufficed, your heart thrumming passionately under your skin at the attention.

Bruce almost melted at the name, just as affected by the title as you were, lowering his face down until his nose was touching yours, his lips hovering right above your own.

“That’s my girl…” Bruce breathed thickly against your lips, his eyes flickering to your mouth as yours did the same to his, your mouth salivating for a taste of him.

A silent beat passed as you both just stayed in that position, locked into each other’s loving gazes and gentle touches, his lips just a whisper away from yours screaming to have you, to taste you. It was intimate and warm, quiet, your body feeling fuzzy and alight with something similar to deep admiration and not so far from a deep, shared love for each other.

There was no playfulness about it now.

It was then, when the tension had sizzled into flame did Bruce finally lean down and kiss you, his lips soft and cold, so contrasting from the warmth he sought in yours as the rain pattered on the windows and your angelic essence drowned him further into the depths of you.

You moaned softly, feeling relief flood through you as your hands gripped his hips for some sort of anchor off the clouds you seemed to be floating on. Bruce kissed you lovingly, a characteristic act of tenderness as he found his own needy noises hum in the back of his throat.

It was sweet and slow, lips careful and gentle against each other between delicate sighs and hums. He tasted of peppermint and the faint drawl of bourbon, his tongue damping your lips and your shared saliva wet on your mouths.

He seperated from you just for a short moment, your lips feeling the loss but not for too long before he was on you once more with a fervor, tongue molding between your lips forcefully and sucking yours into the warmth of his mouth.

You whined at the sudden confidence within him, lips barely moving against his as he took control of your movements and gave you no other option but to take what he gave you — his lips and his tongue tangling with yours messily as sensual rumbles sounded deep from within in his chest.

He brought a hand down from the pillow and intertwined it in your hair, tangling his thick fingers into your roots and pulling hard enough to arouse you further. It made your back arch and lips part in a salacious gasp.

Bruce found himself unable to part from your delectable taste for long, taking that moment to reconnect his damp lips to the skin between your chin and shoulder. He forced your head back as he kissed your neck, the cold air hitting every damp spot in a pleasurable tingling sensation that had your nails digging into his abs.

“Bruce…” You sighed oh so sweetly in a distracted state of mind, just wanting to say his name and have him hear how good he was making you feel with his simple kisses alone — a feat he always accomplished anytime he did.

The praise didn’t fall on deaf ears but he was too preoccupied with the sound of your heavy breaths and whines to really pay attention, too love drunk on the smoothness of your skin falling over his tongue as he licked his way down to your collarbone. He released his grip on your hair and his hands made idle work in caressing their way down your body to the hem of your white pajama top.

His hands were eager, so familiar on the curves of your body as they slid back up to your chest, hands big and desperate as they tightly gripped your bosom for a fleeting moment that had you moaning at the sting — he was handsy, unable to get enough of you and the way your body perfectly slotted between the strength and ridges of his hands.

His cock was already hard in his slacks, poking against your thigh absentmindedly as his hands dug into the center of your top and adamantly ripped it right down the middle. The buttons flew over the bed and your tits spilled out of the ripped material in a gorgeous ripple of flesh that had Bruce groaning at the sight.

“So beautiful, so gorgeous, just fucking perfect…” He mumbled in a lustful daze, more to himself as a factual observation, his hands now gripping your waist, eager mouth leaning down and making quick work to lap at your chest in the way he knew you liked.

You giggled dreamily at that, feeling fluttery and lightheaded at the praise, body warm and melting like a cube of butter on top of his silk bed sheets. He was always capable of making you melt with just a few loving words and caresses, another one of his talents.

Your hands had found their way into his thick hair, massaging at the loose strands when you decided it was impossible to stay still from the buzzing running through your pores.

Your pussy throbbed in your pajama shorts, painfully so, stomach in tight knots at the sparks shooting down to your core from his ministrations.

He found himself enthralled by the feeling of your tit in his mouth, fervently sucking on the skin there as his hands gripped into your waist so tight in a subconsciously possessive hold so you could never leave. Maybe it was the semblance of Batman himself leaking out from under tight fingertips, a degree of fierce protection in the way he held you underneath him, unable to be taken or destroyed by the same evil he fought almost every night.

You were here with him, with him and all of his burdens for the rest of your lives.

“So gorgeous…”

Bruce was lost in the pleasure you helplessly moaned in his ears, feeling his own mutual desire swirling in his tummy and thrumming through his skin that made every touch feel like fire, every kiss an ember from the flame until you and him were intertwined ash lost in the black smoke.

He loved you, his pretty wife, always so supportive and forgiving in the moments he definitely didn’t deserve it.

He picked his head up, panting and lips wet, your chest littered in pink marks and damp with his spit as Bruce licked his lips, hungry for more already.

You looked at him in all his glory, admiringly, just as enamored with him as he was with you as your warm hands slid down to his cheeks. Your own were flushed pink and feverish, breath warm and heavy as you lovingly ran your palm over his sharp cheekbone. His skin was soft, smooth and tepid under your dainty fingertips.

You gently caressed the faint purple of a bruise with your thumb, right in the hollow of his eye.

Bruce leaned into the tender action for a spared moment of comfort, his eyes hooded and twinkling in the dark as he breathed heavily against your lips. He kept finding himself absent in the presence of your beauty, staring at your face and your lips and being so thankful he had you at all.

“So beautiful…” He breathed gingerly, eyes looking over your face like he was seeing you for the first time — no, he was selfish in his blatant admiration of your magnificence, his heart throbbing almost painfully in his love for you as he watched the soft corners of your mouth twist into a shy smile at your devotees idolatrous attention.

He leaned down after a fond moment of your thumb tracing his cheekbone, after he was satisfied with his generous intake of your prettiness. He pecked an affectionate kiss on your smiling lips before dipping his head down and laying several kisses to your neck once more.

You bit your lip at the sensitive feeling, closing your eyes, lost in the feel of him, as he pampered you with doting kisses all the way down to your ribcage, his hands now playing with the hem of your shorts but not too boldly as to take them off quite yet.

“You’re everything, you know that? I could never imagine my life without you… you’re perfect, so perfect.” He rubbed your stomach adoringly, “Your body is perfect, so beautiful, I can’t believe you ever married me…” He mumbled in that rough voice of his, vulnerable in the night, in the moment when you couldn’t see him all the way clearly but he could see all of you just fine.

You could feel another smile playing on your lips — not that it had even left — the heavy sensation of happy tears casting a light sheen over your eyes. He was the perfect one, he was the gorgeous and beautiful counterpart of you that didn’t seem to realize his own value. You only wished you had the poetic spark in yourself that he had, then you’d be able to voice it properly. Still, his praise made your heart swell as he took your left hand and kissed the diamond ring on your finger amorously.

“Oh, Bruce…” You spoke in a hushed manner, voice wobbling from the overwhelming infatuation you had for the man, so thankful and grateful for such a man as wonderful as he. In your eyes the sudden romance had come out of nowhere, but it was still greatly appreciated as it caused your voice to thicken with the downpour of love it had spiked.

He looked into your eyes as he warmly kissed your palm, lips quirked slightly, eliciting another tender hearted smile from you. He then let you settle your hands back on his shoulders as he slotted himself between your hips, the affectionate moment lingering in the air as you pet his wide shoulders.

You were laid on your back, smooth thighs spread to accommodate his size between them, pajama top ripped down the middle in fragmented material hanging off your shoulders, your tits pooled on your chest and wet with his kisses. Your hair was tangled, fanned around your head, lips pink and plushy from all his salacious kisses, your eyes glittering erotically bright.

Despite that, you were not uncomfortable to be so exposed to him, exposed in a way you’d only ever be with him. You knew he would never judge you nor your body, that he loved you and all your freckles and scars and all the blemishes you considered imperfections — he loved them all. The only part of you not seen were covered by the shorts Bruce was already eager to take off.

You were beautiful to him, ethereal even, just as he said you were an angel, something divine and pure, a holy deity completely out of this world that transcended the mortal plane he was bound to, letting his lowly lips and hands cherish your merciful soul and body. Just oh so perfect.

“I love you…” You whispered, pathetically cute, down to him, a whisper wafting into his ears soft and fragile as if you were scared he wouldn’t say it back — he’d say it everyday for a thousand years if he had the blessing of living that long with you. Your nails dug into his shoulders, pulsing with need, as you smiled down at him sweetly.

“I love you more, Mrs. Wayne… I love you more…” He breathed hotly against your stomach, already leaning down and peppering sugarcoated kisses along your pelvis, so much closer to where you really needed him that the throbbing had become unbearably intense, wetness soaking your inner thighs and cream colored shorts. You felt your body shiver at the title once more.

You swallowed shakily as Bruce moved down, his daft fingers hooking into the band of your shorts and gently shoving them down to your knees as his longing lips reached the band of your lavender laced panties.

Your thighs tightened around his head as cool air hit your wet center, your body sensitive and pulsing heavy notes of desire straight into your pussy that made it hard to keep your head up and eyes open.

You just needed him, needed him and his expert mouth to bring you some sort of relief. Your toes were curled already, pussy clenching around nothing and spewing out clear juices that only damped your underwear further. You tangled your fingers into his hair heatedly, resisting the urge to shove his head down where you really wanted him.

Bruce swallowed hungrily, staring at your panty-clad pussy with dark eyes. He could smell your sweetness on his nose, the rain pattering on the windows still and the room still dark as sin but he could see his heaven clear as day, hypnotized by the patch of wetness in your panties, molded to the shape of your pussy lips and begging to be ripped apart.

His eyes flickered up to you, feeling your grabby fingers tangled in his hair as your thighs tensed back and forth around his neck.

Your head was barely held up, eyes hooded and sparkling with a form of lustful desperation as you stared down at him. Your chest bobbing up and down heavily and your skin radiant and smooth, the city lights from his window blurredly reflected in the fat of your cheeks. You already looked destroyed, like he had just fucked your brains out yet he really hadn’t done a thing.

“Bruce, come on…” You whined in a delicate plea when he made no movement further, hands barely pulling his hair but it was hard enough for his skin to prickle in pleasure, a hiss leaving his lips, just hard enough to get your message across.

He snickered at that, lips shiny and jaw chiseled, his face so sharp yet soft at the same time. His beauty greatly perplexed you for how could a mere mortal be so fucking handsome? He was though, he was strong and big and riddled with scars and imperfections yet the accumulation of all those little faults are what made him flawless.

Bruce himself felt the throbs of impatience nestled in his stomach, burrowed in his heart, buzzing at his fingertips, as he looked down at your pussy once more just inches from his mouth, both wet and watering for the other.

“Be patient, honey. I just wanna look at ‘cha first. You’re so pretty, dripping wet for me…” He had the audacity to murmur in that cocky voice of his, yet simultaneously genuine and stunned at the observation as his hands rubbed your thighs, being sure to heartily press into the tissue in that way he knew you liked.

You couldn’t help but pull his hair some more, bursting at the seams for some sort of pleasure you feared it would boil over and you’d explode. You felt frustration settle through your veins once more like molten lava, your skin tensing and thighs aching from their tight grip around his neck.

“Bruce, no more teasing, please? Just please…” You moaned and whined like a stubborn girl, voice thick with need and painful yearning that made his cock twitch in his pants. You almost sounded broken, voice fragmented with a certain torment only his mouth and fingers could appease.

He licked his lips, feeling desire swell in his lower tummy at the state of you — already so incapable of any thought but the memory of his cock inside you, the feeling of his fingers drilling into your tight hole as he spat and licked on your sensitive clit. It was all you could think about, all you could picture in your mind as your head laid back on the pillows and you scooted down the bed until your pussy was right in his face.

The blanket had long since been forgotten, bunched around his hips and aiding as a nice cushion for his abdomen hunched over the end of the bed.

Bruce felt himself chuckle huskily at your shameless neediness, his big hands stopping on your plush inner thighs as he settled down between your legs on the soft mattress, getting himself comfortable for you.

You breathed heavily, eyes closed as you laid back on the silken pillow with your face crumbled so cutely. He was such a tease even when he was meant to be sweet, even when he was insistent on being a good husband who doted on his wife whenever he could — you guessed growing up rich gave him that arrogant edge.

Your stomach was knotted so tight, your skin hot and shivering for some sort of touch as your fingers dug themselves into the roots of his damp, brown hair. You needed him so bad, but your pussy needed him worse.

You felt your thighs tickle as Bruce lightly traced the pads of his fingers down, down, down until he was at the crook of your inner thigh, his right hand digging into the flesh of your leg like he himself couldn’t hold back from you anymore.

Bruce didn’t bother voicing any teasing quips or dirty statements, knowing you were so out of it you wouldn’t listen to him anyway. Every fiber of your being was hooked on his touches, hyper aware of the spots his fingers trickled across, eager for some degree of pleasure that would make this painful waiting period worth it.

He swallowed down the salvia pooling in his throat, so hungry for a taste of you, starved almost. His index finger hooked into your panties and delicately pushed them out of the way until they were bunched in the crook of your thigh. His eyes were met with your soaking wet slit in all its glory.

White, creamy arousal stuck to your panties and dripped down your pulsing hole into the crack of your ass, sheer white beads of cum dribbled down your needy hole that would escape his tongue before he even got a proper taste of you yet.

The cool air made you whine behind closed lips, your voice high pitched and desperate now, your fingers tighter in his hair as your hips subtly bucked forward. The beautiful noises you were making made Bruce’s jaw clench.

You were glistening, shiny with arousal and the strings of impenitent want, evidence of your desire and love for him as he found himself inhaling the scent of you once more.

You smelt so good. He found himself groaning at the musky sweetness, his finger still hooked around the crotch of your panties as his other hand tightly gripped your thigh — you moaned softly at the pressure, sure that there would be the faint yellow bruises of his adoring fingerprints pressed into your skin tomorrow. A charming reminder of the evening when they blossomed.

You felt your core clench once more, thighs tensing up as wetness shone in his greedy irises.

Bruce was unable to wait any longer, his mouth salivating and his eyes blown black as he pressed his tongue into your wet hole and licked a bold stripe all the way up to your buzzing clit, the taste of your arousal pooled on his tongue and already dripping down the sharp corners of his mouth.

You couldn’t stop the loud moan from echoing in the room, euphoric sounding as sweet sparks went off all over your skin at the long awaited contact. Your fingers tightly anchored themselves in Bruce’s hair as his tongue went up and down your folds, gathering as much of your wetness in his mouth as he could.

His hands swiftly dug themselves into your hips to hold you down once you started writhing in his hold. His tongue forcefully circled your clit in sharp wet strokes, deep rumbled moans escaping his chest that vibrated the sensitivity of it and only made more wetness gush out of you and soak his chin.

You tasted so good, so fucking good; he wanted nothing more than to be drowned in your essence, choking on everything you gave him until his belly was full and even then he wouldn’t be satisfied, he’d never be satisfied. He was like a monster, chasing every little drop of cum that pebbled out of your clenching hole with a forked tongue, greedy and carnivorous like you were the only nectar he ever wanted to taste again.

His tongue lapped your pussy once more as you gasped, back arched and toes clenched as he thrusted his tongue into you over and over, wet and messily as your juices shimmered on his cheeks and lips.

No, he decided, the beast within him would never be tamed.

You bucked away from his mouth in a pathetic attempt to free yourself from the overwhelming pleasure, but Bruce held you down with his strong arms, staring up at you with furrowed brows of concentration as his lips molded over your puffy clit once more, swollen from need and his relentless licking.

He was nothing if not devoted, devoted to your elegance, to your holy figure and endless love as he lapped at you desperately, his tongue swirling your clit as the fabric of your panties tickled his nose. He couldn’t get enough, pushing deeper and harder until your wetness was messily smeared on his mouth and face, eating more and tasting more until his entire being was smothered with your cum inside and out.

“Bruce, o-oh my god!” You squealed wantonly, one hand now gripping the black sheets between tight fingers as your other hand remained in his hair, following the movements of his head as he went up and down, side to side until not an inch of you wasn’t covered in his salvia.

He breathed hotly against you, his eyes closed as he savored the feel of you in his mouth and trickling down his throat. He couldn’t think of anything else, couldn’t listen to reason as all he could focus on was you and your cum, tasting you, licking you, having you in every sense of the word. No one could tear him away from you, not now, not when he was so close to having you cum in his mouth and reaching his final purpose.

You were so close, you could feel it in your tummy. Your hole clenching around his tongue as he went back and forth from your clit and your soaked hole, wanting to pleasure you but simultaneously wanting to taste you for his own pleasure.

Your toes curled, stomach tightened, hands gripping the sheets as your mouth flew open in sporadic moans and gasps, tears prickling the corners of your eyes as your thighs squeezed around Bruce so tight you’d fear he’d never surface from between your legs again.

He wouldn’t have a problem with that.

Bruce picked his head up only high enough to talk, lips dripping and almost incoherent as he mumbled deeply into the wet folds of your pussy like he couldn’t bear to part, “You gonna cum for me, baby? Come on, Mrs. Wayne, make me proud, cum in my mouth.” As he voiced this his one hand crept down and slyly inserted themselves into the tight confine of your warmth, his index and middle fingers pushing inside you, so long and so big it made you cry out.

It was wet and warm, your juices slapping against his knuckles as he circled his fingers inside you, pushing on the spot he knew he was supposed to as his mouth eagerly returned to your clit. He looked up at you, eyes dark and heavy as he stared at your tits jiggling with every thrash of your hips, every arch of your back and every gasp out of your pretty, dampened lips.

He groaned into you at the sight, feeling his cock achingly hard in his pants as he sucked your clit into the warmth of his mouth and refused to let go, tongue prodding the area skillfully and harshly. He wasn’t going to stop this time, not until you were creaming around his fingers and leaking down his neck.

The air was so thick and stuffy that you couldn’t help but pant fervently, your body prickled with pleasure and overwhelming sensations that made it hard to focus on anything but his fingers inside you, long and lithe, slipping in and out as the sounds of your wetness clouded your ears and muffled your moans.

Bruce himself was lost in you, tongue and lips a glistening mess as they lapped and circled and sucked every part of your pussy exposed to him, it felt so good it stung — he was groaning into you softly, pleasure building in his tummy and rumbling through his mouth to your already so sensitive clit.

It was then, just a few short moments after his fingers wormed their way inside your tight walls, just a few short moments after he sucked your clit into his mouth did you feel your stomach relax, thighs squeeze around his head so hard he felt himself go dizzy.

“Ahh, O-oh my god, Bruce!” You moaned so blissfully, so sweetly, as your juices squirted onto his chin and his fingers squelched inside you.

Bruce moaned at the feeling, fingers gently sliding out of your clenching hole so his tongue could catch all the cum pouring out. You whimpered at the feeling of his mouth still on you, lapping at your hole like a dehydrated villager kneeling at a prosperous fountain, your skin pasty and so so hot.

He lapped at your pussy a few more times, up and down, ensuring he got his fill for the evening as faint tremors wracked your body in the aftershocks of his giving nature. You were flat on the bed now, belly sore from the tightness it held for so long, legs limp and body spent as you panted gently, heart throbbing in your ears.

You managed to lazily caress his sweaty hair though as Bruce surfaced from between your legs, face glistening and lips sore and pink. He looked manic, hair pulled and tangled and messily scattered on his face yet he seemed to be glowing at the same time, like he had never felt so alive and it made you want to giggle.

He sniffled, looking up at you with an impish grin, the taste of you lingering in his mouth and staining his nose. His hands fondly massaged your shaking thighs, noting your wrecked appearance and tired eyes, your sweaty skin flushed and warm.

He couldn’t help it as he glanced down at the mess he made, your slippery wet folds and the large patch of wetness staining his sheets.

“Mrs. Wayne, pardon my brashness of course,” He said almost sarcastically, breathless and rugged, an amused smile quirked on his lips as he leaned forward and embraced your hand with his, “but you taste utterly divine.”

⋆˚࿔ 𝐓𝐀𝐆𝐋𝐈𝐒𝐓 𝜗𝜚˚⋆ @little-miss-chaoss — I hope it’s okay I tagged you, you said you wanted to be tagged in everything 😭🙌🏻

[delicioushottubpeanut]

Y'know when you start liking a dilf and see all these edits and then become jealous because they have liked them longer than you

[mrswolffs-blog]

THE BETRAYER: Toto Wolff x Horner!Reader

Y/n dating the rival of her brother pissed him off to no end, and her marrying him made it worse. Y/n and Toto have been married for the past 4 years, which made it the worse years of Christian's life as he had to continuously watch his sister be all domestic and passionate with the man, he despised the most. All the hugging and small kisses and pecks in the paddock made his stomach sick and let's not forget the family dinners and other get togethers that now became a torture to attend.

Now the news trending all over the internet was that Y/n and Toto were expecting. Toto was in the middle of an interview answering a question, when an obviously pregnant Y/n walked out onto the patio behind Toto with their dog Hades following closely behind as she walked towards the garden once again out of sight. Toto obviously knew that she was seen and so he decided to address it. "Yes, you are seeing right. My wife is 6 months pregnant" he announced, sending the world off into excitement as loads of congratulations were being sent their way.

Christian just hearing of the news on his arrival to the paddock, fainted on the spot, scaring the journalists as he was transported to the medical room. Y/n had heard of her brother's state upon arrival and was immediately led to his garage where he was seated outside. "Chris are you okay? I heard that you passed out?" Y/n asked worriedly searching his skin for any signs of sickness. "Yes, I did, what were you thinking when you went and did this. Are you sure this is something you want to do?" Christian asked not knowing how to feel. "Yes Christian, I want this. And it's not like I can turn back now, I've gone too far" she said trying to reassure her brother that everything was fine.

After a while of talking, Christian somewhat began to accept the situation as Toto came to pick up his wife. "There you are Liebe, hi Christian, you wouldn't mind if I take her away?" he asked closely to being polite. "Sure, you can take her if you promise not to have another one of those rugrats that you're currently creating" Christian replied making everyone laugh at the banter between the in laws. everyone was finally making progress at the relationship evolved positively.