#but how great from rb taking him back

[thef1diary]

Little Big Blurbs

— Mr. Bear & Bearman

Saudi Arabian gp 2024, Bella meets Ollie.

Series Masterlist

wc: 1.8k

Based on these requests though I kinda changed parts of the plot, aka I forgot about the sky sports broadcast part until after I finished writing 🫣

It was the Saudi Arabian Grand Prix which was one of the hottest races on the calendar.

Since you had never gone to the country before, Max had warned you about the heat that this time of year would bring. For your daughter in particular, iced cold water in reusable bottles was one of the primary items you had stocked up on in preparation.

Although Isabella enjoyed summer, the humidity in Jeddah caused her hair to stick to her forehead, a sensation she rapidly grew aware of and disliked.

She was not a big fan of the sun blazing down on her, but still wanted to support Max. Even after he had suggested that both of you could join him for the next race in Australia, she didn't budge on her decision to watch the race in Jeddah. Isabella had made it clear that would choose to go to every race that she was able to, especially since it would give her an excuse to skip a few days of school before and after the weekend as well due to travelling.

Isabella was wearing an airy navy blue dress to show her support for her favourite team. She wore a cap with Max's driver number printed on it, as well as sunglasses to keep the sun from stinging her eyes. In addition, a small battery-powered fan rested on her shoulders to keep her cool all throughout the day.

Since Max was required to be in the garage hours before you and Isabella planned to arrive, you entered the paddock on race day with only your daughter.

You held her free hand while you walked further in the paddock, glancing at her a few times and chuckling at her choice of attire which was adorably cute for her age.

With her hand that wasn't held onto yours, she held her favourite teddy, Mr. Bear. Ever since she had retrieved it—or rather rescued it—from her father's house, she hasn't gone anywhere without it in fear of losing or forgetting it again.

Although you hadn't spotted Max, Isabella quickly waved at another driver decked out in a red Ferrari polo and blue baggy jeans—her second favourite driver.

Charles bursted into laughter when he first saw her, immediately commenting on the fan, "I want one."

Isabella tilted one of the two mini fans' direction towards him and he exaggerated a sigh of relief, finding her instant response to his words cute and told her that he appreciated her action. He turned it back towards her after a few moments, knowing that it was to prevent her from excessively sweating or even getting a possible heat stroke.

Then, he looked at you, "hey, why don't I show you around the Ferrari garage?"

You thought about it for a moment, never having been in any other garages except RedBull and RB. "I'm not too sure about that, you know, considering I'm with Max," you shrugged.

He chuckled, "you have no idea how many times he's come by, c'mon it won't take long." He extended his hand towards you but didn't grasp onto your hand, letting you know that you still had a say in the matter and that he would promptly end the conversation and accept your decision if you declined once more.

"Then, I will walk you to your lovesick boyfriend," he muttered quietly enough that Isabella didn't hear.

Dropping your mouth in faux offense, you lightly smacked his shoulder with your hand. "Lovesick? I saw him a few hours ago."

He shrugged, "few hours too long."

You briefly looked down at your daughter who was silently beaming and you knew that she would love a little tour of the Ferrari garage.

You playfully clasped your palm in his for a moment, making him chuckle, "okay then, show us around."

"Great, I can also introduce you to Ollie," Charles commented as he lead you towards the garage that showcased an enlarged version of the iconic prancing horse on the building.

Furrowing your brows, you asked, "who's Ollie?"

"He's a F2 driver, filling in for Carlos because of his illness," Charles briefly explained, pointing at another person who was wearing the same team gear as him.

"Right there." Charles called him over, and you noticed that the driver looked visibly younger than any other Formula 1 driver currently on the grid.

Unfortunately, right as Ollie was introduced to you and Isabella by Charles, the older Ferrari driver was pulled away by other team members that required his presence. "It's alright, he can show you around," Charles suggested.

With a sheepish smile on Ollie's face, he nodded, "I'll show you around, but I will say, I'm still learning everything myself,"

Exploring the garage, you noticed that one of the biggest differences was the colour of the items, other than that most of the things were similar in each garage. Where the Redbull garage was filled with navy blue, Ferrari was an infamous red. Despite being close to the Ferrari drivers, it had felt like you entered a different world since you were used to staying in the Redbull garage.

Your daughter quickly befriended Ollie, mainly since he wasn't immune to her antics and cute little pout. One question led to another and he was happily answering them all to the best of his ability. While most of their conversation was filled with laughter, you could also hear some bickering between them.

In the sea of red, you spotted a man wearing the rival team colours, and even though his back was turned to you, it was easy to tell that it was Max. While Charles had said that the other team drivers can come by the garage, he failed to mention that they would get stared at oddly because of the contrasting colours that made him stand out.

Once he turns around and spots you, he quickly makes his way towards you with the corner of his lips turning downwards. "Why are you here?" He asks, panting.

"Charles suggested a tour. Why are you out of breath?" You retorted. He bends over and rests his palms on his knees. "I looked for you everywhere, I thought you were coming straight to my garage."

He had initially checked his phone for a call or message from you since you weren't in his side of the garage, but the battery died. Max underestimated the amount of walking it would take to check the entire paddock to find you because he couldn't wait after putting his phone on charge.

You placed your palm over your mouth to hide your smile. "I was, but look there," you pointed at your daughter. She was currently carried by Ollie on his back while he showed her all the little details that would be too high up for her to see otherwise.

Max walked over to Ollie, slowly getting to know him better throughout the weekend. Max liked him a lot as the younger driver reminded him of himself when he was younger, albeit a little different but the passion to race was similar.

Although, Ollie didn't need to know that since the words leaving Max’s mouth contrasted his thoughts. "Show her all the red you want, but the only red she'll like is Redbull," Max tells Ollie, catching Isabella’s attention too.

“Maxy look, Ollie got me a bear!” She exclaimed, sliding off the younger driver’s back and holding up the teddy bear. There was a small version of the Ferrari cap stitched on to its head along with a Ferrari polo as well.

“Very nice, princess, did you say thank you?” He asked and earned a nod from the little girl. While she walked closer towards you, Ollie responded to the statement Max said.

"I don't know, maybe you'll have to ask her which red she prefers."

"Are you challenging me?" Max quips, raising his brows. Ollie shrugged nonchalantly, "maybe I am."

"I’ll have you know that I am very competitive," Max added, earning a sigh from you. "Max, are you seriously arguing with a kid, that too over Bella?"

He looked at you in disbelief, "he's trying to convince our Bella to like Ferrari over RedBull, he's brainwashing her."

"I don't know about which one I like better, but I will say that I’m also going to be supporting Ollie this race, since it's his first in F1.”

Max frowned at you, then looked at Ollie, "seriously? First my Bella and now my girlfriend too? Count your days."

The younger driver looked at you with concern visible in his eyes, “he’s not serious is he?”

You shook your head, “not at all,” but at the same time Max replied, “of course I am.”

You ignored your boyfriend’s words for a moment, placing a hand on Ollie’s shoulder. "Raising Isabella has just made him a bit more protective," you explained.

"You both have a beautiful daughter, but you don't have to worry about her here," he looked at Isabella who had interrupted Charles’ conversation with his engineer but neither men minded the intrusion.

You called your daughter over, not wanting her to be a disturbance in the garage especially on a busy day like today. Before you could respond to Ollie’s comment, Max beat you to it. "You’re driving for Ferrari, that is enough of a reason not to trust you.

“He’s joking,” you added to lighten the mood, especially since Max’s humour was not obvious to many people. Ollie on the other hand, added his own cheeky retort, "you trust Charles."

Isabella returned to your side and it was time to leave the garage since Max was probably needed at his garage too. Your daughter’s hands were occupied by two teddy bears, and you couldn’t help but ask, “what are you going to name it?”

“Bearman, after Ollie.” Her response caused a sigh to leave Max’s mouth but you chuckled looking at him. “Mr. Bear and Bearman, that’s nice.”

Isabella stopped in her tracks, “mama, can I watch the race from that garage?” She asked pointing to the Ferrari garage that you just began walking away from.

You looked at Max, expecting to see another frown on his face but seeing a smile instead. He shrugged, “if she wants.”

“Are you sure?” You asked, finding the difference in his mood concerning. “Yeah, Ollie’s a good kid.” His smiled revealed that he had no ill intent regarding Ollie, he was just a little overprotective over Isabella.

Isabella spent that qualifying day cheering on Ollie while sitting along with you and his family, who were already enamoured by the little girl as well. When he returned with a good starting position, especially considering it was his first ever race in Formula 1, he hugged Isabella just as tight as he hugged his father, already considering her like a little sister.

Little Big Blurb taglist (let me know if you want to be added): @keerysfreckles @d3kstar @xjval @hc-dutch @the-untamed-soul @multi-fandom-fan221b @lilymurphy03 @shreks-best-tits @nessacarty1 @ldynblack @lighttsoutlewis @ur-fave-ave @namjoonswaifu @llando4norris

#max verstappen fluff #max verstappen x you #max verstappen x reader #max verstappen fanfic #max verstappen fic #little big fan fic #thef1diary fic #f1 fluff #fluff #f1 imagines #f1 imagine #ollie bearman fanfic #ollie bearman fluff

[pupcuck]

SCHADENFREUDE !

ft. leon s. kennedy x fem!reader

tags. p in v, kidnapper/victim relationship, stockholm syndrome, he puts u in the trunk of his car :3, sorta painal, squirting, slapping/hitting a lot.. of it, not non-con or dub-con but he keeps calling it that idk, painful sex, suicide mention cuz it’s leonnnn, sadism

note. haiii a follow up to rotten luck title has nothing to do w the fic i think :3 his character changes like every 5 mins im sorry .. readers character changed a lot too omg just blame it on stockholm! umm sorry for any mistakes please ignore them :3 rbs and feedback so appreciated :3

rotten luck

tumblr removes fics that use, for example, tw non-con and any nsfw tags in general from the tags. for this reason, as i’d like my fic to appear in the tags, please understand that this fic contains dark content under the cut. reading this comes at your own risk.

“What’re you doing?” With a foot in the door, Leon spots you hunched over the mantlepiece.

You jump like you do when he makes a noise over thirty decibels. Luckily, you’re housebroken now, just about, so there’s no piss. Or tears. He has no desire to deal with tears. Or piss or any fluid for that matter. Leon has bad days, and then he has worse days, then there are awful days– It’s only a bad day, but that doesn’t mean he wants to spend his time forcing your head into a puddle of your own piss. Fundamentally, piss is not his concern, he’s potty-trained and has been for a good thirty-four years. He’d like to think a good forty-three years, but he was a criminal bedwetter up until the ripe age of twelve. Foster system does that to you. You make the piss Leon’s concern when you do it on his floor–

“What’re you doing?” Leon asks once more when he wrenches himself away from his piss tangent. He decides to let you off for not answering the first time ‘cause he’s generous like that. Quietly, as everything you do is scarce and ghostlike, you point at the printed photos on his mantle with great interest. There’s three because Leon only really gives a shit about three people. They shouldn’t be out in the open like that. Leon doesn’t remember leaving them out, so he’d like to blame you, but maybe this is a sign of early-onset dementia.

“Who’s she?” You nod to Ashley first, pressed to his side so tightly, so lovingly, so sure that he loves her bombardment. Her affection, whatever it is that she insists it is. He thinks back to tearing her from the clutches of emaciated beings and wonders how he can stand here so normally. As if nothing ever happened. Ashley’s name is the one in the back of his throat, shattered and bloody like glass in a domestic dispute. Then again, he is face to face with his kidnapping victim and all. So it’s not very normal when he looks at the bigger picture. Far from normal, abnormal at the very least. Fucking deranged might be the right term.

“My ex,” Leon lies to see the look of disdain that crosses your face, the unpleasant curl of your lips that irons out when he pets your head. Whether it be for him or Ashley, he wouldn’t like to know. “Joking, baby, I saved her,” Leon settles on saved because there is no other way to explain it, and because he would love for you to know that they’re not his other kidnapping victims and that you’re his one and only kidnappee and he might be impulsive, but he’s not stupid enough to take pictures of and with kidnapped girls. Well, Ashley was a kidnapped girl, not his kidnapped girl, however.

Leon is very feminist, rescuing slender-ankled maidens is his speciality, you’re just an outlier. “I saved her,” he says when you nod at Manuela next, and then for Sherry, he pauses, “I saved her.” Sherry’s face goads him into cowardice, blowing his brains out is difficult when she’s sitting on his shoulder at all times like a Vatican cherub, covalently bonded to his heart or his soul. Whichever matters after you die. “You want a picture too, baby? Autograph?” He kisses your kidnapped little fingers with the guilt of a man who has been pointlessly guilty all his life - now literally guilty by CJS standards for the four months you’ve been captive.

You smile at him, and consequently his drops. “I’m good,” you say, smiling your real smile. It upsets him. “I’ve got the real thing.” When you talk too much he remembers that you’re not a toy or a plaything or anything of the sort. That you’re a real girl.

Sometimes Leon has these moments of startling clarity. You kidnapped a girl ‘cause mommy didn’t love you enough, but daddy hit you hard enough to knock the functioning parts of your brain out of place. You kidnapped a girl ‘cause you got touched back in boot camp, ‘cause you’ve seen a couple hundred people die.

At this point, he simply can’t move on, but he can give up. Every night the gun under his pillow digs into the hollows of his skull. It’s just that Leon can’t leave you, his lucky little girl, he feels responsible for the state you’re in. Stockholm and all. That wasn’t his intention, he’d rather you be dead out of sheer terror, your frail little heart would give out mid Leon’s fucked up chimaera that is part nasty, hot sex and part brutal beating and the most he would have to do is bury your bones in his backyard.

Pretend you never existed. Your name fades into obscurity like every other name does. Your face is just another face. And no one truly cares in the end. America’s love is limited, its affections will go elsewhere, to a prettier kidnapped girl in California or a younger one in Maine. The police will pass you off as a runaway soon enough, and no one would ever have to mourn a bodiless casket. What a mess. Leon didn’t mean to be so charming, didn’t mean to make you fall for him, he didn’t know girls these days were so into getting raped on the daily. Now he’s facing the repercussions of his sex appeal. God forbid he exists in sexy peace.

You gotta make everything his problem, don’t you? Lucky little thing. Leon wonders if you’ve ever had to do anything for yourself. Wonders, ponders, thinks, but he won’t pry. ‘Cause it makes him feel, like, really fucking sucky. That he plucked you out of your perfect little life ‘cause his life is the shittiest little life in this piece of shit world.

He struggles to even utter your name– Your name, god, he bets it was picked out so delicately, so carefully– And that pisses Leon off ‘cause his dad named Leon after his favourite hooker, remove the A from Leona and there you have it! Italian enough for his ma too, hit a perfect sweet spot. Now he’s upset, the perennial guilt has wilted and he’s just fucking exasperated by you. By your luck. By your shamelessness. What twisted little bitch sits there and gloats about having the real thing in reference to her kidnapper. In actuality, it’s Leon that has the real thing.

Leon knocks you down like you’re made of styrofoam. That little yelp never gets old. You see, he’s been struck by this awful migraine and he wants you to feel the same. You should ache like he does, but you don’t ‘cause you’re young and healthy and he makes you go to bed at an appropriate time ‘cause it’s his duty as your kidnapper to make sure you don’t die out of neglect - death via beating is fine and understandable.

You sit at his feet so sweetly, a stray dog that’s wandered into the shrine of a lonely god, curling up at the foot of a wooden statuette to seek some form of solace. Unfortunately for you, Leon is no god, just a normal man with a heart and a soul and a dick that thinks for itself. He does what any man with a dumb dick would do - grabs you by the ankle and lugs you towards the bedroom like a deer carcass. It’s slightly comical, and he knows that ‘cause he hears you giggle a little.

“Rape is nothin’ to laugh about, sweetheart,” Leon says ‘cause that’s the plan, he drops you down on the bed with a thunk. Is it even rape when the other party, a very much kidnapped party, is enjoying it? Truly, you suck the joy out of his life.

“Sorry, Leon,” you go slack and stupid the second he gropes your tit, he’s not one for foreplay, it bores him most days. He’ll eat your pussy ‘cause he likes the taste, but he’s old and his cock is on its last legs and the moment his shit jumps to life it’s best to get it in ASAP.

“It’s okay, baby,” Leon lifts the hem of your shirt, “I know you’re really fuckin’ stupid, so don’t worry ‘bout it, yeah?” God, he’s way too nice. He pulls the shirt over your head and you’re left bare.

“Thank you, Leon,” You’re well-mannered, he’ll give you that, polite little thing, it's terribly endearing, has the walls of his gristly heart caving in.

“You’re very welcome, baby,” he hums, unzipping his jeans to get his dick out before it ultimately droops. Your cunt is sopping, takes to his fingers easily, he curls them upwards to hear those slick clicks. “Spread ‘em.” Leon taps your thigh, and you bend your knees outwards, a foot flat on the bed. It’s nice that you’re wet for him and all, does wonders for his ego, but loose holes are no fun.

“Not there,” you’re so cute when you whine, would look so cute stuffed in the trunk of his car, god. He’d even put a pillow between your thighs to give that cunt some friction. Keep you entertained while he drives aimlessly.

“Baby, you should know better,” Leon chides, spreads your ass and eyes up your tighter hole. “Didn’t ask you, did I?”

“Nuh-uh, Leon.” Comes your automated response.

“What did I tell you?”

“Don’t speak unless spoken to,” you relay the words like you’re reading from a rulebook.

Creepy. Makes him shudder. Maybe Leon did Stockholm you purposefully, he didn’t expect you to respond so well, he was just saying shit. Like, shit that comes out of his mouth when he’s horny, and your sick little brain took his word as law. So, like, that’s your fault and you’re making it his problem. ‘Cause everyone loves to make everything Leon’s problem.

“God, you’re such a clever girl, baby,” he coos because he is so kind and gracious, giving out praise left and right. The tip of Leon’s cock is sticky, drags it through the seam of your cunt to part your folds, kisses your clit with the fat head. There’s a slight gape to your puckered hole when he grabs your ass cheek to open you up. Leon’s forced his way in countless times before, it’s no different this time. With a cock lubed by precum and your drippy cunt, he pushes into your asshole mercilessly.

“That’s a cute face, sweetheart, you gonna do that for me again?” Leon asks, taking a handful of tit as he admires the pain washing over your face— The divot between your brows that he smooths over with his thumb, a quivering bottom lip, eyes screwed shut ‘cause you’re trying to take his fat cock like a good girl should. You make it so easy to hurt you.

“Leon,” you whimper when he bottoms out. His cock kicks inside you, he pulls out to be mean, carves out space and your hole flutters ‘cause it’s so empty— Leon forces his way back in, till the ring of muscle swallows up the base of his cock, and his balls smack wetly against the fat of your ass. Two fingers find their way into your sloppy pussy once more, he feels the ridges of his cock through the spongy, thin walls of your cunt, and you’re liking it too much, fucking him back far too enthusiastically when his thumb presses down on your pulsing clit.

“You’re gonna cum like this, sweetheart,” Leon tells you matter-of-factly, removes his fingers with a pop! and wipes the milky cream dribbling down his wrist on your tummy. “Can you do that for me?”

“No, Leon, I can’t,” you shake your head, trembling fingers wrapping around his wrist to guide him back to your puffy clit.

“Yes you can, baby, you’re gonna do it for me aren’t you?” He tuts, breaking free from your sorry excuse of a grip to lay a firm smack on your jaw. It sends your head to the right, hears your neck crack, he’s sure. “We don’t use words like ‘no’ do we?”

“No…”

Aw, that was a trick question— He gives you another smack to force your head to the left. A little brain damage goes a long way. Keeps you obedient. When you get over the dizziness and face him head-on, you try to blink away the tears to no avail, they roll down your cheeks in pearlescent blobs. Clicker training is unneeded when you have a firm hand. It’s worked so well, any mention of your life outside of the time spent in his home and he’s punching your lights out, now you talk to Leon about Leon, and you think of Leon, and you fuck Leon and you love him– Jesus, okay, he did Stockholm you real fucking bad. No wonder you’re so weird.

Leon rabbits into you, short and shallow thrusts ‘cause it’s harder for you to breathe that way with his cock constantly pushing and jabbing and— Fuck, he’s practically reshaping your insides at such a brutal pace.

“I knew you could do it,” Leon snickers, presses hard on your abdomen to help you cum— And you’re so cute when you do, writhing and lifting your hips up and just looking a little stupid. There’s a stuttered breath, then you’re squirting in sharp bursts, from his cock in your ass alone. “There we go— You did it, baby, did so well—“ He is so fucking sweet to you, talking you through your high and shit. “You love getting your ass fucked don’t you?”

When you don’t respond, too busy trying to recover from an orgasm that’s left you boneless, Leon knocks some sense into you. “I do,” you gasp, teeth clattering like they always do when he hits you. “I do, Leon, I do, I love it— Love you.”

Holy shit. He hates it. That’s what drives him over the edge, that’s what makes him fuck his load into your ass till it’s dripping back down his shaft, that’s what gets his legs all shaky? It sickens him.

“Do you love me, Leon? I love you so much, Leon,” you mumble to him feverishly when he dips low to rest his forehead on yours, a hand on your cheek.

“You’re growing on me, baby,” Leon says, kissing the spot on your cheek he hit less than a minute ago. “Go clean yourself up.” He checks his watch while you limp off to the en-suite. “I’m headin’ out soon.”

“What?” You poke your head past the door frame, genuinely distraught at this revelation. “But you just got home, Leon, I was so bored— Can I come with you?”

“Are you dumb, baby?” Leon blinks at you, and he knows the answer is yes already.

“I’ll just miss you, like, lots ‘n lots.” You’re padding towards him, seating yourself on his lap. He puts his hands on your hips to draw you in, you breathe in his scent. It can’t be pleasant, but you get something out of it. “I want to come with you, please. I won’t run away, Leon, I like it with you.”

“I know you won’t run away,” he hums, squeezing your hips. “What would you do without me? You’d just miss me, baby.”

“And I’m gonna miss you when you go now, Leon.” Your arms loop around his neck. This is fucking disgusting. You’re not his girlfriend, but his literal kidnapping victim and he’s all loved up, letting you stroke his hair and kiss his neck— Fuck, he hates it, hates that he likes you so damn much.

It’s not like he could get away with it. Claire’s got, like, a database in her head for all the fucking women in the world. One look at your face and she’ll know. And how the fuck are you meant to play that off? Bringing a missing girl as your date for the night.

“You can come with me,” he agrees, just not in the girlfriend way, but in the appropriate kidnapped girl way. With a gag in your mouth and your hands behind your back, tucked into his trunk like a cute, fleshy suitcase.

Zip ties are best, rope comes second, and Leon’s tie is probably not on the list of best kidnapping tools. He just wasn’t prepared to take you with him. He’s fairly new to the whole kidnapper thing, it’s quite exhausting.

The sun sets early these days, and it’s not like Leon lives in a crowded area. Only sign of life on the street is him. And you. Panties stuffed in your mouth as a makeshift gag, wrists tied together with the tie Hunnigan got him for Christmas. You could spit the panties out at any minute, but you don’t. You could break free from the shitty knot he’s tied, but you don’t. Leon must be good at this manipulation thing ‘cause you’re so damn docile, letting him lay you down like a corpse, move you around like one.

“All good?” Leon asks, tilts his head to the side as you stare up at him with glassy eyes. Not all good. You’re terrified. He can tell. You still nod though. “Good.” He kisses your head, then shuts you in.

Leon is already a bit of a nervous driver. His windows are blacked out at least. He always feels like he’s doing something wrong. Like there’s drugs planted in his glove compartment, or he’s got blood money on the backseat, or a cute girl in the trunk— Which he does, but he doesn’t usually have a cute girl tied up in the trunk. He usually does get a ticket or two though, able to charm his way out of it, flash his ID.

There isn't a single noise from you, not even a thump, and it worries him. Leon considers pulling over, but he drives on white-knuckled and shaky. Hopes you haven’t rolled out without him noticing. Been flattened by a truck. Jesus Christ, he thought something about this would be gratifying, but his nerves have spiked and unlocked a new level of anxiety. He should hand himself in right now– Obviously, he doesn’t do that, and he parks up outside Claire’s apartment instead, and he is going to check on you, he is, he was–

“Oh, hey you!” Sherry takes him by surprise, her hand is small in his, but it’s calloused. Doesn’t feel like it did when he held it the first time. Even smaller and bloodied. When she smiles at him, soft wrinkles form. “You’re on time,” she comments, and he wants to die because there is a girl in his trunk.

“Right on, kiddo!” He says to Sherry who is thirty-seven and married. Leon would like to think he does well in high-pressure situations, he does do well in high-pressure situations. That’s a fact. He’s great in end-of-the-world-type scenarios, great at saving America from impending doom, he could do it with his eyes closed– Facing the closest thing you have to family not as yourself, but as a creepy, old rapist is insanely difficult and he would prefer to never do it again. However, he is exactly that, plus a kidnapper, so Leon will continue to do it for the rest of his days.

“Are you okay, Leon?” The corners of her lips are downturned– She knows, oh god, she knows, and she’s never going to look at you the same, and she’ll hate you for the rest of her life– “You’re not sick, are you? I heard there was a bug going around, Jake got sick today that’s why he couldn’t come.” Fuck Jake. Leon dislikes him. Her hair is longer, long enough to fall over her shoulders. He’d tell her to cut it, in their line of work it’s a risk, but she looks how she used to look, and Leon can’t say anything to her.

“No, I’m just, I’m cold, it’s cold, right? It’s cold out here, let’s go inside– Claire’s waiting,” he says very smoothly, totally without a single fumble.

“What is up with you?” Claire scans his guilty face when she opens the door, scans it like a robot, not like an observant human. She steps aside to let Sherry in, kissing the shorter girl’s cheek, and then she blocks Leon from entering. “My pipes are bust, Leon.”

“Okay? Can’t help you with that, babe.” Leon is not a fucking plumber. Doesn’t look like one in the slightest. He’s handsome like a washed-up actor, he knows that much is true, does not fit the bill for a plumber.

“You look like you need to shit really bad.”

“God, I don’t, I’m just fuckin’ cold.” Leon shows her his shaky hands as proof. It’s not proof ‘cause these are kidnapper shakes.

Claire stares at him. Ineffable. Unflappable. She scares the shit out of him, might really end up on her busted toilet if she scrutinises him to this degree all night. “You sure you’re okay?”

“Yeah, I’m good, I’m great– I’m cold, I’m fine,” he says normally because he is a normal man with a heart and soul and dick and balls and credit. All the shit normal guys have. And a girl in the trunk, he’s got that too. The cast-iron doubt in Claire’s eyes has Leon on edge for the rest of the night. It never dissipates. Or she’s just looked that way her whole life and Leon’s overthinking it.

“Nah, Leon hates those, don’t you?” Sherry nudges his shoulder.

“Huh?” Leon says intelligently, he’s painfully aware of his blundering efforts at socialising. Painfully aware of you. In his trunk. Cold, scared, and wet ‘cause you’re fucked up. He hates a lot of things like assless chaps and seven-eleven beer and swans. He drinks seven-eleven beer anyway. Does not wear assless chaps though. And he’d prefer to keep it that way. Swans piss him off ‘cause they're beautiful and violent and beautiful things should be passive like you are. Beautiful things were put on this earth to be gawked at. Beautiful things belong tied up in his car.

“Parrots,” she smiles at him again and he’s hit by a wave of nausea.

“What about ‘em?”

“Me and Jake want to get a pet, I’ve always wanted a parrot, you promised to get me one when I was a kid,” Sherry says, it’s not even to guilt trip him, just factual, but Leon feels like the shittiest guy alive, he’s very good at feeling bad.

“I do hate them,” Leon confirms, “They talk too much.” Pets are pets. They roll over, show off their bellies, wag their tails, they shouldn't speak.

“That’s what I like about them!”

Leon gets a headache when you speak for even a minute, that’s why he couldn't deal with a parrot. Or any pet other than his lucky girl ‘cause at least she’s smart enough to know when to shut up.

“It’s not like they talk a lot.” Claire fills her wine glass for the nth time. “They speak when spoken too,” she says while blinking at Leon so directly he thinks she might’ve put cameras in his house to see if he’s being as feminist as he claims he is. “And you can teach them names, I think it’s cute.”

“We took care of a puppy last year, a friend’s one, but Jake doesn’t like dogs at all. Poor thing, she got car sick when we took her out, she was in the back on her own, and she must’ve been so scared-”

A dog in the back of a car all on her own. God, doesn’t that sound familiar? Did you get car sick? Should he have checked up on you? Fuck, you might’ve choked to death on your own car sickness by now. The clock ticks and Leon checks his watch about ten times within five minutes. He can’t leave first. He never leaves first– Oh, fuck, but what if you’re fucking dead? He prays you aren’t. He would appreciate it if you were alive.

“I don’t… I don’t feel great,” Leon says not convincingly when he stands up, then he bends to kiss Sherry on the head. “I love you, sweetheart, we’ll catch up next time, alright?” And he doesn’t give either of them a chance to respond properly. Collecting his keys from the table, his jacket, his gun.

Leon, don’t you want to finish– Leon, you’re leaving– Call me when you get back– I’ll miss you, Leon– Text me back– Should you be driving–

He would love to reassure Sherry, tell her that he’ll miss her so much he could die and that he promises to text Claire back on time, and that he’s perfectly capable when it comes to drunk driving. but he’s pretty sure he’s got a missing dead girl in his trunk. Leon wonders if they can see him clearly from Claire’s fifth-story window. They don’t care about what he’s doing, but the probability that they might be able to see what he’s doing, acting all shady, is scary. The street lights flicker, and when he opens the hatch, he’s bathed in the glow of your halo. Hail fucking Mary and Joseph and Jesus. You’re there, eyes frantic, and very alive, panties still stuffed in your mouth. Could’ve spat those out by now, but you’re a good girl.

“Fuck,” Leon sighs, he smiles like he loves you. “Hi, baby, did you have fun?” He hunches over to get a better look at you, you’re in the position he left you in, on your side, balled up, almost foetal. He slaps your tit, pinches your cheek, pokes your ass like he’s giving you a physical. You shake your head. “No?” Leon pouts at you, then he leaves you in the dark by slamming the lid. The thrill has sorta settled in, or he’s just tipsy, ‘cause he’s giddy about it, about having you back there. Highways are fairly empty at this time, and so now that he’s boosted by you not being dead and cognac, Leon parks up on the side of the road. Opens up his trunk, again, it’s the most he’s ever used it, shit is gonna fall off its hinges.

“You saved me,” you say when he takes your spit-soaked panties out of your mouth. “You found me, sir, I was so scared, I-I thought I was going to die in here.”

Leon’s confused for a second, then he gets it. You’re roleplaying as… as a kidnapping victim. Which you already are. So it’s like the Droste effect, or holarchy, or more simply a thing within a thing. You’re letting him take on the hero part, which he’s most familiar with, he’s good at being the good guy, that’s why Leon is a pretty crummy kidnapper. “I saved you,” Leon says flatly, he goes with it. “You should suck my dick to say thank you.” He didn’t mean to say that so soon, he was gonna play along for longer, but you made him really fucking hard just then. Teary-eyed, snotty, looking so cute and sweetly kidnapped.

Waiting for your response isn’t his style. Leon had his dick out before you even spoke, he was planning on just stuffing it in your mouth, but you went and made up a little story in your head to get him even harder. He shuffles forward, wipes the tip on your lips, slaps it on your cheek.

“C’mon, open up, baby.” You nose at the underside of his cock, then take him into your mouth, hollowing your cheeks and giving it to him so well, how he likes it, choking once you get to the balls. Leon places a hand on the back of your head, forces you still as he pounds your throat, hearing you gag and heave brings him comfort, ‘cause you're struggling and he loves to make you struggle, loves to make you work for it. You've had it too easy, and now you’ve started liking the sex (read: rape), so Leon’s glad he can hurt you without you getting off on it. “Okay, okay, that’s enough, baby, you can stop that now,” Leon says like he wasn’t skullfucking you into a coma, his cock slips past your lips, strings of saliva beading your chin, your neck, your tits.

The trunk is kinda small, when he puts you on your front, your head rests on the backseats, and your legs dangle over the edge. “Can you untie me, sir?” You ask in a scratchy voice, throat shredded.

Leon ignores you. He’s busy scoffing at how fucking soaked you are, misses the days he had to spit on your cunt to get it wet, when he felt all big like his cock was imposing ‘cause you were so dry he had to force his way in, and you would scream so loud it sliced his skin, and he would groan for that contrapuntal effect ‘cause hurting you is the best thing he’s ever felt. Better than opioids, better than regular sex, better than a scalp massage, better than anything that feels mildly great.

Your cunt swallows his shaft too well, and it is hot to know you’re so far gone now, but would it kill your pussy to show some form of resistance? He knocks his hips forward so hard the car jolts, thrusts all his weight into you, so his cock is doing nothing but harm, breaking your cunt in, going past your cervix, womb-fucking and all that good shit. It doesn’t get further than your cervix for obvious reasons.

‘Cause his dick is not a knife, it’s a dick and it twitches when you clench. He likes having a dick, he likes to fuck with it, likes to stick it in places it shouldn’t be, likes to disfigure and wreck and ruin with it - fly in the ointment is that it’s not immune to stupid, sloppy holes that beg for it. Leon shudders, keeps himself buried to the hilt, rolls his hips forward so the tip jabs the fleshy, firm opening of your cervix in painful grinds.

“Leon,” you wheeze, twisting like you’re getting exorcised, “Leon— Leon, it hurts—“

“I know, baby,” Leon pats your ass, giving a sharp thrust forward to make you sob. “Keep talkin’ to me like that, turns me on.”

“Hurts so bad, hurts, Leon, ‘s gonna– ‘s gonna kill me, Leon– Don’t wanna die, I don’t wanna die, please–”

“Shit,” he laughs breathlessly. That was hot. Girls begging for their lives ‘cause his dick is too good. When you turn to glance at him over your shoulder, his hips stutter. “Fuck, baby– You look fucked.” Like you’re terrified of him. That's how it should be. “Don’t go pushin’ me out,” Leon grunts, words punctuated by strokes that have you reeling in all the worst ways.

“I can’t–” Your head bumps the seats when Leon knocks you in the back of the head. Hard enough to stun you into silence.

“Can’t run from it, can you?” Leon bites down on your shoulder, momentary relief from the cruel drag of his cock inside your sticky cunt, now you can focus on his teeth. How he might tear into you. Eat you up. “Gotta take it for me, baby, ‘cause that’s what you're good for. No brains just got a stupid little cunt.” When he cums, you arch into him, and he fucks into you with all he’s got, till you’re stuffed full of his seed. Something to keep your belly warm for the ride home. Leon should get an award for being this considerate.

“Leon, can I sit in the front?” you sniffle, pathetic and floppy and orgasmless.

He sneers at you. “Do you want me to get caught, sweetheart? You wanna get taken away from me?”

“No, Leon…”

Click!

That was cathartic. Leon’s glad you’ve still got pain receptors, you’re not totally gone, clinging on for dear life, but still afloat. He carries his little body bag to the door. “Want a photo?” Leon sets you down on the ground, you cling to the back of his shirt as he struggles with his jammy lock.

“Oh, yeah!” You light up, “‘Cause you saved me!”

“Yeah, baby.” Leon ushers you inside. “I saved you.” From the boot of his own fucking car.

#leon s kennedy x you #leon s kennedy x reader #leon s kennedy smut #leon kennedy x you #leon kennedy imagine #leon kennedy x reader #leon kennedy smut #resident evil x reader #resident evil smut

[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.

#it like. reads like fanfic #this team is so fucked up none of this can be healthy #what makes him tick #its all very insane. Machiavellian!Christian... be very afraid. #i wish Christian didnt speak about seb like that. just be more respectful. he clearly has his favourites #f1 #daniel ricciardo #Christian horner #brazilian gp 2023

[bippiti]

505 cl16

where you reminisce on your first love

wc 3k

an done for my 1.2k event! first fic in the series, lmk if you wanna be tagged and as always pls like + rb<3

(starts in 2014, ends in 2024ish)

i'm going back to 505

you rushed down the road, feet peddling as hard as they could as you biked down the street. your eyes glanced down to your watch, squinting before you read the time. great. you were going to be late.

you thought that was you’re biggest problem, and then a new one came crashing onto you, literally.

while you were busy checking the time, you failed too notice someone else running in your direction. you don't know what had them too preoccupied to notice you- but you could technically say the same thing about yourself so-

you were bought back to the moment by the stinging you started to feel on your knees, you hissed looking down and seeing red. ugh

you began to apologize, looking up and stopping mid sentence.

wow. he was pretty. really pretty

you slapped yourself mentally, wincing while standing up. it was definitely going to scar. you reached your hand down to help the mysterious boy up, who sharply inhaled when your hands met. he had scraped his hands up pretty bad when you guys collided.

"i'm so sorry again"

"you're completely fine, i should've been paying more attention" he said while laughing

he has nice laugh

"anyway, i think i should properly introduce myself, i'm charles le clerc" this time he was the one to extend his hand out

"y/n l/n, nice to meet you" you smiled as you shook hands

then you remembered what had gotten you into this mess. you checked your watch again. you were definitely late now.

"i'm so sorry charles but im running late to a painting class, i really need to go" you picked up your bike, kicking the dust off of it.

"wait i am too, are you going to mme. callarios?"

you looked back at him in shock. "how did you know"

he shook his head, "you're going in the wrong direction, since we're heading the same way mind if i show you?"

you didn't see why not, so he climbed in front of you and began to head towards your class

-

if it's a seven hour flight or a forty-five minute drive

the bike halted as you reached your destination. building 505. you stared at each other nervously before walking in. the class had started at 1pm, and it was nearing 2 when you arrived. granted, it was a 4 hour class but still.

you cringed internally as you felt all eyes on you when you opened the doors to the class.

"y/n, charles! great to see you. we've split up into partners, so you both will have to work together. decide who will be the painter and who will be the model for the first piece. switch in an hour and a half!" she explained quickly, ushering you both to the only empty table.

you both sat across from each other, and after a small game of rock paper scissors, you were adjusting in your seat getting ready to pose for the next 90 minutes.

-

when you look at me like that, my darlin', what did you expect?

you didn't know how you managed to keep a straight face, his stares were piercing into what felt like your soul. you knew that he had to be like this, he was painting you after all. but knowing that didn't help. after silently uttering some words of encouragement to yourself, you maintained a straight face.

after what felt like forever, you heard the timer go off, and with one last stroke of the brush charles was up and you were swapping places. you cracked your knuckles before sitting on the stool. this was gonna have to be the best painting you've ever done.

before you knew it you were hearing to now familiar ring as you finished off the details of his eyes. you stood up, backing away from the piece. not too bad you thought.

after everyone had finished, you went to the room across as they all dried. it was acrylic, so it wouldn't take too long. there were snacks and refreshments scattered throughout the space. grabbing a drink and seat, you started to learn more about charles. he had two brothers, one older and younger. his mom still cut his hair, you thought he might be embarrased but he showed it off proudly.

“all these years and she still hasn't given me a bad haircut”

“if my mom could cut hair like yours, i'd be getting it done by her too”

“you should come by her salon sometime, i think she'd like you”

“really?”

“yeah, she's out of town so next month when she's back”

with those plans made, you collectively went back into the painting room. you both swapped paintings and looked at them for a while.

you gauged his reaction, at first his face was blank and you were scared that you had made him look like a troll or something, but slowly a smile creeped up onto his face, he looked up to you.

“it's really good”

you smiled and looked down to yours, he had gotten your likeliness down to a t. he left clear marks and left the strokes visible.

looking up you saw him searching your eyes for a reaction, just like you had.

“you did so good, i love your painting style”

he seemed relieved when you said that, smiling. as everyone around you began to pack up and leave, you both exchanged numbers before grabbing your paintings and going your separate ways.

-

not shy of a spark

you had texted back and forth a lot since then, and soon enough you found yourself at the doorstep of his moms salon. after being welcomed in you sat down and showed her photos of the haircut you wanted. she nodded, and began to wet your hair

“charles talks about you a lot, you know”

“does he really” you said with a laugh

“he does, i think he likes you dear”

that shut you up, she smiled warmly

“at this age, love is everywhere, make sure you grab it while you can”

you left the appointment with amazing hair and a lot of questions, you didn't think he could possibly like you back. but now, who knows

the knife twists at the thought that I should fall short of the mark

-

I'm going back to 505

you walk into the painting studio, excited with the a dragonfruit in your hand. today was still life day, normally you found it boring but mme. callarios had let everyone bring their own fruit.

you spotted charles when you got in, and lifted your dragonfruit for him to see. he put his hand up, showing off the orange he had started to peel. he tore off a piece for you, and offered it once you got closer.

your hand was cramping as your eyes continued to squint at the pink fruit in front of you. you regretted picking dragon fruit barely half an hour in, the seeds and the outer skin were proving difficult to paint accurately, you glanced over to charles, his was coming along nicely. you ended up pushing through the ugly phase and were somewhat proud of the piece. it had definitely been your most challenging one so far

-

If it's a seven hour flight or a forty-five minute drive

you were biking to charles' place, over the weeks you had both become closer, and he wanted to cook for you. you were somewhat scared, charles didn't seem like michelin star material, but maybe he'd surprise you.

he did end up surprising you, but not in the way that you thought.

pasta was on the menu for the afternoon, and you sat on the counter as he went around getting all the ingredients ready. basil, pine nuts, garlic, and olive oil were all pushed onto an island before he began on the pasta. getting out the flour and egg, he began to knead the dough together.

he looked nice in moments like this, comfortable. you liked to think that maybe you could see more of him like this, when he's quiet and the silence isn't awkward. existing together in his apartment kitchen. once he was done cutting the dough into pieces, he salted the water and dropped the pasta in. he came over to you and you both began talking.

you ended up getting so immersed in the conversation that the pasta was forgotten- at least until it was too late. you glanced over to the stove, eyes widening as you saw smoke rising from the pan. you both jumped up and yanked it off the gas, bringing it to the sink. what was going to be amazing pasta was now a charred rock. you couldn't help but laugh before getting side eyed by charles.

"i guess we're going to have to order pizza instead"

you ended up binging some random show you found on netflix, and as a souvenir took home the rock of burnt pasta, you named it char, short for charles charcoal

-

In my imagination, you're waitin' lyin' on your side

charles had become a f3 driver now, and hadn't been in monaco for a bit. you watched all his races, and you were the first person he called after his first win in pau-ville. he was excited, and so were you.

you're feelings for him had kept growing, and you couldn't help it, no matter how much you tried. you loved everything about him, his eyes, and how they'd light up when he saw you, his smile, and the dimples that formed when he did. his hair, his voice, just him.

soon enough he was back in monaco and you were excited to see him.

you grabbed coffee and began walking around the streets, stopping at building 505, walking into the currently empty studio. you looked around some of the paintings before sitting on some stools.

you knew him too well now, 3 years of friendship will do that. he was nervous, when he bought his hand up to his face you had saw he had bitten his nails. you didn't bring it up, but before you could say anything he started to speak

"i've been trying to figure out how i should say this for the longest time. i've known for a while now, but it really hit me in pau. i couldn't have don't any of this without you, i don't even think i'd be who i am without you y/n. and now that i'm back i can' t handle not telling you. i like you, i really like you"

you were stunned for a minute, before you kicked back the stool you were sitting in and kissed him. the puzzles had fallen into place, you couldn't believe it.

he deepened the kiss, bringing his hand to your waist as you sat in his lap. your fingers ran through his hair, tugging as you began to roll your hips against his.

you pulled away, panting. smiling at him before you began to kiss him again, his hands roamed down to your shirt, tugging it up as he separated from you again. you raised your arms, and took his off as well. a silent beat skipped between you both and you laughed

"are we really about to do this right now"

"yeah, i think we are"

you pulled him closer to you once again, his tongue slipped int your mouth effortlessly and you almost moaned, god he knew how to make you melt.

soon enough, the rest of your clothes followed suit and you were on the cool tile floor. as his hand started to trace your inner thigh you grabbed his hand. he looked up, somewhat confused but before he could say anything you spoke,

'i've never done this before"

he relaxes almost immediately, and smiles down at you

"neither have i"

you weren't ashamed to admit you were shocked, sopmeone like him.. never? not once?

he could see the gears turning in his head and he spoke up

"there were girls now and then sure, but i always wanted it to be you, it's always been you honestly"

you couldn't see yourself rn, but you were sure you were giving im heart eyes by now.

"it was the same for me too actually" you said sheepishly

"was it really?

"yeah, it was" and with that you bought your hands up to his shoulder, flipping him onto the floor. you kissed him softly, turning his face to kiss along his jaw, his neck, going further down to his chest, then stomach. pausing for permission, after seeing his nod you pulled down, eyes widening as you saw it. well this was gonna be interesting

you left kisses on his tip, working your way down before you took him all in your mouth. he hit the back of your throat and you almost choked, but hearing the moans coming out of his mouth kept you going. you could feel him start to pulse, and before you could do anything else he was bringing you off of him, kissing your lips as he turned you around.

“can’t have you doing all the work can i cher?” he said as he pulled your underwear down, almost moaning when he looked down at you, all of you.

he traced his hands down your sternum, down to your waist and legs. spreading you open he dipped his face down.

you could feel his tongue inside you, pulsing before he started scissoring you open. he was good- too good at this. you don’t know if you could handle it. soon enough, he was back on top of you, kissing you gently as he lined himself up with your entrance.

he cleaned you up afterwards, he was quiet, soft. you could get used to this

-

but I crumble completely when you cry

it had been months since that night, you and charles had been going strong, but after he joined f2, something changed. his eyes no longer lit up when he saw you, he started buying things for you instead of making them. you’d wake up to your phone being full of messages, but none of them from him.

it hurt. he hurt.

it shouldn’t have come as a surprise when he called you, asking where you were.

you answered, mme. callarios’ place. he said he was going to be there soon.

you felt your heart drop, wether it was excitement or fear, you couldn’t tell.

you knew the minute he stepped through the door it was going to be bad. you could read him like a book. you composed yourself as he came closer, pressing quick kisses to the others cheeks, you painted a smile on your face and smiled at him.

his eyes were full of emotion, for the first time in months. it’s almost funny, you knew it was coming but the moment the words left his mouth you broke down

“i’ve been seeing someone else”

“i see”

at first it didn’t register, not really. a heartbeat later you felt the tears pricking at your eyes. you turned around trying to excuse yourself, but before you could take another step a sob escaped your lips. you started to cry. you couldn’t shut up, why couldn’t you just shut up? you could feel yourself gasping for breath, all the air in the world wasn’t enough for your lungs right now. you were getting lightheaded, knees turning shaky before ultimately giving up on you. the impact resonated around the empty room.

he stepped forward, kneeling down. his stupid, warm hands brushed up against your face, trying to wipe away your tears.

you couldn’t even push him off of you. you really were pathetic.

you managed to fight your way up, shaking and all but running out the door.

never again, you were never going to love anyone like that again

-

i’m going back to 505

you walked into a crowded room. your latest collection had been getting a lot of coverage in the media, and it was the last day it was up for the public. the pieces would be going to the individual buyers first thing tomorrow.

building 505. it no longer made a bitter taste seep into your mouth. it’s crazy to think a decade ago you were standing here painting him, how time flies.

the first few months were the worst. he was the only thing you could think of, you were a broken record. so naturally, you did the one thing that made you feel close to him again, painting. and it saved you

you could get out every thought you were too afraid to say out loud, every emotion you didn’t want to feel with simple strokes on canvas

you didn’t think anything would come of it, honestly. you were meant to go into investment banking, like your parents. the universe had other plans though

one of mme. callarios’ friends was a museum director, and took a liking to your pieces. he asked you to do some works on commission. word got around fast, and now you’ve made a name for yourself as an artist, in some ways all thanks to charles

charles. now he had his dream job, f1. working with the team he used to tell you about, the team he worshipped.

you were happy for him, sometimes you wonder if he was happy for you. you still think of him when you eat pesto, you still keep char in a jar under your bed, you have all of the paintings you made that summer in a closet collecting dust. there were pieces of yourself that you gave to him that will stay his even though you’re done.

none of that matters now though, you turn to someone who’s called your name and start explaining the piece they’ve asked about

#charles leclerc #charles leclerc smut #charles leclerc prompt #charles leclerc blurb #charles leclerc imagine #charles leclerc x reader #charles leclerc x you #charles leclerc fanfic #scudia ferrari #charles leclerc x yn #f1 x reader #f1 smau #f1 fanfic #f1 imagine #f1 fic

[0oolookitsme]

Such an Opportunist

This one was going be a rather sad and angsty one, but it quickly took a turn ...and hopefully, it was for the better. I'll surely write another fic for what I wanted this one to be, but nonetheless – I hope you enjoy this one!

Verse - Singer!Harry x Ceo!Y/n

Word Count - 1.7k

Warnings - Some new-parental-stress in the beginning.

Harry really needs to sleep, and Y/n is very shocked to learn that he's written songs she'd yet to hear. Also, Harry falls on some Lego bits and what better opportunity to ask for a back massage?

Please rb to share! | Masterlist

Harry was in the kitchen, making himself another cup of tea while chewing on some raisins. He could hear Amore playing with her toys around him somewhere and Y/n's humming voice was the only other sound travelling through the house -- apart from the whirring of the washing machine as well that Harry had thought he had broken on his first try.

Andre's wailing had quieted down, some sniffles being the only indication that he was still recovering from the fall. He had fallen from the couch onto the pillow that Y/n had laid on the floor just in case that very thing would happen -- and Harry and her both suspected that the little boy was just shocked.

"Hm, make me one too?" Y/n meekly requested on entering the kitchen, her fingers weaving through her hair to make a braid.

Harry turned back and automatically his first glance landed on Andre, feeling relief when he saw him playing with Amore on the carpeted floor -- and then, snaked his arms around Y/n's waist.

"Feelin' very sleepy today, thought another bedtime tea would surely be helpful" he chuckled hoarsely, before pecking her lips. "Don't know what I was thinking when I put the kettle on the stove," resting his head in the curve of her neck, he admitted. 

Y/n only sighed in response, swaying the both of them as she wrapped her arms around his slouched frame. She could tell that the sleep deprivation was beginning to mess with him. "Been craving a lot of Earl Grey, recently, haven't you?" She huffed out a laugh, pressing a kiss somewhere on his ear lobe.

He hadn't gotten much sleep last night, considering that the pair of twins were teething at the same time, and he was on duty. He and Y/n did all that they could -- from gum massaging to freezing milk popsicles. The silicone teethers and other toys were great help, but only during the day. It was the nighttime, during which Harry and Y/n lived the actual nightmare.

On the night prior to the last one, it was Y/n's turn to look after the babies, and it was one of the worst nights ever. So much so, that Harry was unable to go to sleep because of the loud wails and the fact that his babies were helplessly hurting. So, he was up along with her, although he remained in bed and held onto Amore who had been whimpering with her head nuzzled in his chest – all while looking at Y/n pace around the nursery they'd built out of the room right next to theirs, with a sobbing Andre clung to her chest, bouncing herself in different motions to somehow get him to relax, in the baby monitor

So, it only made sense for him to be tired and sleepy out of his mind.

"I'm glad you came home early tonight. Was hoping you'd sleep in early," Y/n mumbled as she scratched his scalp, something that never failed to soothe him. "I'll take care of tonight. Got to peel some peas, too, you know?" Chuckling, she continued -- "It's been a while."

Harry hummed back, taking a deep breath before rising back to his height. He pressed a chaste kiss on her upper lip, and placed his hands on her love handles, already missing the warmth of her neck and Andre's baby scent that lingered there.

"Only had to do some composing today," he told her. "Pretty happy with the way the song's turning out," he smiled before he moved over to take the kettle off the stove. 

It made Y/n smile, that they were finally talking about something that wasn't in regards to their children or about how tired they were. Because those two topics seemed to be the only thing that they ever talked about these past few days, and she was beginning to anticipate a fight brewing somewhere in a dark corner, away from sight.

Sliding her bottom on the kitchen island, she sat cross legged on it and -- "Oh really? I'm so happy!" She chirped. "Tell me more!"

She heard him laugh lightly, and she felt as if she were glowing because of how happy she'd gotten. "C'mon! I wanna know!" She urged him to hurry as he waited for the tea to leave its flavour in their cups.

Harry laughed again, as if her happiness was contagious.

"You know the song I told you about, the day before yesterday? The one which I described as silently and shyly explicit?" He asked her, turning around with a cup in each hand. He was holding the body of her cup so that she could hook her fingers through its handle and wouldn't burn herself with how hot the cup was, and Y/n's heart felt like it was merely a puddle in her chest cavity.

She hummed in response, motioning him to sit and giving him a look when he only leaned his bottom on the kitchen counter, and crossed his feet at the ankles in front of her.

"Well, I named it 'Keep Diving'," he gleamed. "I can't wait for you to hear it! I think we just have to give it some touch-ups tomorrow," slurping on his tea just to annoy her, he grinned proudly.

"So... am I going to hear it tomorrow, or when the whole album is ready?" She asked him with narrowed eyes, pointing a finger gun at him.

Harry laughed out loud and immediately held his cup a little farther from his chest so he wouldn't spill the tea on himself. "You've heard every song I've made so far! Music For A Sushi Restaurant, Late Night Talking, Satellite, As It Was, and Grapejuice," he recapped the song titles for her.

"And, Keep Driving, of course," he said. "Which I think I'll let you hear once the album is ready, along with a few other ones," a smirk pulled one corner of his lips upside and dug a dimple in his cheek. He was growing a stubble.

Y/n gasped loudly; mouth wide open and eyes stilled at him in shock. "There are multiple songs you're hiding from me?" She exclaimed, placing her cup beside her before she could drop it.

Harry pretended to run, looking anywhere but in her eyes. "You are the first person to listen to anything I write! I'm just planning to surprise you with ...a few," he accepted sheepishly.

Her eyes had now fallen in suspicious slits that glared at him. "How many?" She asked, swinging her legs off of the island.

"I mean, there are songs I still need to write but... I've got 3, I think, that you don't know about," he emphasised as if that'd save him from her hands that seemed to be ready to attack him with pinches and tickles. So, he quickly chugged the last few sips of his tea that had gone cold by now, and slid the cup on the counter before taking off from the kitchen.

He ran carefully so he wouldn't slip in his socks, but that wasn't helping because she was running after him without a care in the world. Although, it was when she began laughing and shrieking behind him that Harry couldn't help but turn to see what had caught her attention that was funnier to her than them being grown-up adults, running after each other like they were kids again.

And the sight amused Harry to the level that he had to stop to laugh at it, which caused Y/n to slam into him because she was looking behind her instead of looking ahead.

Hary went tumbling down on the Lego bits the kids had built and he cried out loudly in pain, the pieces digging into his back as Y/n fell over him. She was laughing at him but her eyes showed concern for him, and before she would've gotten up to help him, the two little bodies that were running behind her came and halted at her feet.

She sighed in relief, slightly proud that they already held that certain maturity but then Andre bent his knees, and made a big jump on her back as if she were playing horses with him and Amore followed soon behind him, crawling up Y/n's leg and stopping once she was sitting behind Andre.

"Oh my -- god," Harry gritted through his teeth, wrapping his arms around Y/n so the kids atop of her wouldn't fall in case his groaning body tilted to the side in pain.

"Oh my god," Y/n also hissed, mainly for Harry but also because of the attack on her poor back. Her face still showed amusement as she tried to reach for the kids' hands above her and get them off of her. "Get up, Andre, Amore – get up," she urged them and sighed when they did.

She exhaled in relief on her back, but then Harry groaned again beneath her.

"Get up, Y/n," Harry gritted once more and Y/n stilled in realisation before rolling over, onto the floor on her back, spewing apologies.

His eyes were tightly shut when Y/n got up and offered him her hand. “H, give me your hand,” she asked of him, feeling warm inside that the kids were each on his sides and pressing their little hands on his biceps, shaking him thinking he was asleep.

Harry took in a ragged breath before opening his eyes, wincing when the kids shouted in delightment that they had woken him up. But, nevertheless, he set a pointed look on Y/n at once.

“I’m not letting you get away with this so easily, woman.” He said in a strained voice. “You better get you oils ready to rub ‘em in my back.”

That made Y/n gasp once again and she placed her hand on her hip while pointing a finger at him with the other one. “You’re such an opportunist! Taking advantage of the situation!” She called him out with an accusatory tone to her voice, and only shook her head when he shrugged with a menacing smile on his mouth, grasping at her withheld hand.

#harry styles #harry styles fanfiction #harry styles fanfic #harry styles ff #harry styles fic #harry styles fluff #harry styles angst #harry styles one shot #harry styles blurb #harry styles x reader #harry styles x y/n #harry styles x fem!reader #harry styles x you #dadrry #dad!harry styles #dad!harry #dad harry #harry styles imagine #harry styles imagines #harry styles au #harry styles blurbs #harry styles concept

[ikissjae]

PAIRING … jung jaehyun x female!reader

THEMES … angst, smut, and ig some fluffy?

LENGTH … 5.4k.

WARNINGS … TOXIC relationship. this is a bad, codependent, parasitic relationship i do not idolize nor condone this kind of relationship by any means. abuse of power. corruption kink. religious themes. throat/face fucking, aggressive at that. reader is restrained at one point, nothing crazy. fingering (fem receiving). jaehyun isn’t a great guy. please let me know if i missed something! MINORS DNI.

NOTES … i wrote this fic literally years ago as a chanyeol fic lol! again, mind those tags as this is a darker kind of piece. hope yall enjoy! rbs, comments, and asks are always appreciated ♡

ㅤㅤㅤ© ikissjae 2022. translating and/or reposting is not allowed.

Jaehyun reminded you of fire.

Out of control. Hot. Angry. Suffocating. 

Jaehyun was like a burning building you wanted to get out of but couldn’t find your way out because the smoke was so thick and heavy. The horrifying part wasn’t that the building was burning down or that your lungs were burning from the smoke, oh no no, it was that you didn’t want to get out.

You wanted to burn to the ground surrounded by Jaehyun.

You can’t explain how you got yourself here pinned down in the backseat of his car, dress riding up dangerously high on your thighs, and your baby hairs plastered to your forehead from the sweat that harbored there. 

Hot. It was so hot in his car. Suffocating almost. 

That probably wasn’t from the heat, that was probably due to the large boy weighted on top of you, his large hands holding tightly onto the lacey fabric of your dress. You loved this dress. It was a pristine white and had the prettiest lace pattern you had ever seen. You wore it every Sunday. Today was no different.

The boy’s lips stayed attached to your neck as you laid there, complacent, your hands rested barely on his waist. You were scared to touch him. You didn’t know what was right and what was wrong. Jaehyun pulled back from your neck to look down at your face. You just blinked up at him, letting your hands move from hovering over his waist to rest heavily on his broad shoulders.

Jaehyun was so big. It was stupid you two kept making out in the cramped backseat of his beatup old car. If you felt confined, you couldn’t imagine how Jaehyun must’ve felt.

“Wanna try something new?”

Watch and pray so that you will not fall into temptation. The spirit is willing, but the flesh is weak. Matthew 26:41. 

The verse rang through your head once Jaehyun’s offer hit your ears. Your eyes scanned his face unsurely, watching his pretty pink lips quirk up into a smirk at your hesitation. There was always something dark in his eyes. Something impure.

Jaehyun was impure. 

He was, as your father affectionately put it, a “troubled youth” and needed some help “improving himself”

Your father loved fixing things that never needed to be touched in the first place. Jaehyun was one of those things. He’s been drinking since he knew how to hold a bottle, fighting since he knew how to walk, and smoking since he was fourteen. He told you that once when he was taking you to church.

You, on the other hand, were pure.

You never drank, you never smoked, you never even thought about doing any type of drugs, and you had never kissed a boy till Jaehyun appeared in your life. You remember night vividly. He looked harmless, honestly, soft features and dressed all nice. Your father talked so highly of the progress he and Jaehyun were making, how Jaehyun’s life was only improving since your father started taking him to church. 

Jaehyun was the devil in sheep's clothing. 

You remember how intense his gaze on you was. How hot it made your cheeks and made you advert your eyes from him and onto the green beans on your plate. You should’ve known then and there he was laying the trap out so he could keep you locked in his burning house forever. 

God, if only you knew.

“What’s the new thing?” You wondered breathlessly. Jaehyun hummed as he sat up, looking around the backseat before nodding to the front. 

“Get in the front. There’s not enough room back here.” You complied so easily, soothing your dress down and sitting up to crawl over his center console and into the passenger seat. You didn’t even ask where he was taking you. You just listened to him without thought. You were his lapdog practically. 

You couldn’t help it. Jaehyun was interesting. He had so many stories, so many tales, some of drama, some of loss, and some were just funny. He was so interesting. You never met anyone like Jaehyun before. 

Once the boy settled in the front seat, you propped your elbow up on the center console and rested your cheek in your palm, watching him turn on the car with stars in your eyes. You adored Jaehyun as much as your heart could allow you too. You knew it was futile but you couldn’t help it, he was looking to be adored.

After a beat of you staring, Jaehyun turned his head towards you, brows knitted together and a scowl on his face. You simply batted your lashes at him, smiling warmly up at his gaze.

He didn’t warm up. He never did. But you had hope one day he would.

One day, Jaehyun would feel the same way towards you. 

“Stop looking at me like that.”

“I like looking at you like this.”

“I don’t care. It’s weird.” You laughed softly at his rebuttal, shaking your head.

“It’s not weird. You’re just handsome.” Jaehyun scoffed, beginning to drive out of the church parking lot. “I like looking at handsome boys.”

“I’m the only handsome boy you’re looking at, let’s be honest, angel.” You preened at that nickname. Angel. You loved being his angel. A celestial being in his eyes. It always made your cheeks burn. You sat up finally, looking out the window as he sped down the empty road that desperately needed fixing.

“Where are we going?” You asked after way too long of not knowing. Jaehyun glanced over at you then back at the road.

“My apartment.” Your eyes lit up at that, the excitement clear as day on your face.

“Really? You’re really taking me there?” You asked leaning back over to rest your hands on his bicep. Jaehyun couldn’t help but to smile a little at how excited you got over the minsecule of things. It was cute. You were excited to see his apartment, something he didn’t see as a big deal, but you saw as a massive deal.

Jaehyun never took you to his apartment. It was like a shadowy part of his life you didn’t know about––Well, a lot of Jaehyun’s life was like that.

“Yeah,” He chuckled quietly, “We’re trying something new, right? Why not do it somewhere new?” New for you, not new for him, but you didn’t say that. You just bounced excitedly in your seat.

Jaehyun’s apartment was rather messy. You weren’t surprised. His car was messy so why wouldn’t his house be too? He guided you through the disheveled living room, arm tightly wrapped around your waist as you looked around trying to take in your surroundings. You didn’t want to sound pompous but, god, this place was a dump.

He opened his bedroom door, letting you walk in first and look around. You were a curious little thing. Jaehyun liked that. He liked how little you knew about the world, how sheltered you were from everything dark and twisted. He liked showing you those aspects of the world, slowly and cautiously so you wouldn’t run away or get scared but he’d be lying if he said he didn’t like when your eyes got all wide and full of fear.

“You should get an aloe vera plant.” You finally conclude causing his lips to quirk up with a small laugh as you hooked your fingers in front of you, smiling up at him. “You need something alive in here.”

“I got you, don’t I?” He tapped the tip of your nose at that. You giggled up at him, rocking back and forth on your heels anxiously. Jaehyun hummed down at you, waiting for a response with that same smirk on his lips. You nodded quickly, hands still laced in front of you.

“You got me.”

It felt like a promise. A one-sided promise.

Jaehyun pinched your cheek playfully before nodding towards his bed. You looked down at the black sheets, humming stiffly as you sat on the mattress the springs squeaking beneath your weight. Your hands rested in your lap as Jaehyun towered over you, his eyes dark with something you didn’t know. You didn’t know a lot about Jaehyun.

Jaehyun tilted his head down at you, tucking hair behind your ear in one last gentle act of kindness before he dropped his hand to begin undoing his belt.

You bit your bottom lip as he stared down at you, his eyes falling to your fidgeting hands.

“Let me just see your hands,” You didn’t hesitate to put your hands up, palms facing him. He easily took your wrists into one of his large hands. You swallowed thickly up at him as he wrapped the belt around your wrists tightly and expertly. You wondered how many times he’s done this with other people.

You let out a soft gasp when he tugged on the belt, pulling you towards his hips till you were in front of his zipper. You swallowed thickly, looking up at him with big adoring eyes as he trailed his hand up and to tangle into your hair.

“Open your mouth, angel,” Your jaw immediately dropped. He hummed in slight pride, nodding his head down at you. “Tongue out.” You listened to that command without hesitation as well, staring up at him pathetically as he let go of your hair to take off his jeans letting them fall to his knees. 

You’ve seen Jaehyun’s dick before, it just happened. You didn’t plan on it, but it’s happened multiple times now. 

“Why–”

“I don’t think I said you could talk,” There’s a pang of hurt in your chest, but you stared up at Jaehyun with big doe eyes as he gently tapped your jaw. “Just shut up and keep your mouth open.” You swallowed thickly but dropped your jaw again, watching as he pulled his boxers down to join his jeans.

This was new. Jaehyun took his dick into his hand, stroking slowly like he was teasing himself.

You haven’t seen a lot of dicks in your life––Okay, you’ve only seen Jaehyun’s but you’re going to assume that he’s on the bigger side. You have nothing to compare him to but a big boy has to have a big dick, right? 

“Gonna fuck your throat,” You tried to wring your wrists with your hands but the leather restraint around your wrists stopped you causing you to whine softly, “Hit my thigh if it’s too much, got it?”

You blinked up at him a few times, scared to speak again thinking he would snap at you again. So, you nod as your eyes fall downward. Jaehyun snapped his fingers causing him to look up at him again. 

“Look at me and don’t look away till I say so, understood?” 

You took a second, but nodded. You could feel your tongue getting dry. Jaehyun gently smacked the head of his cock against the palette of your tongue with a wet smack. You shut your eyes tightly before quickly opening them again––You’re a good listener.

Jaehyun smiled down at you, putting one hand on the back of your head to push your mouth towards his dick. 

You balled your fists up, your nails digging into your palms as Jaehyun ran a hand through your hair. He was gentle at first, not pushing you too far or too fast, just a gentle guiding hand. It wasn’t bad. You weren’t enjoying it but you didn’t hate it.

It was for Jaehyun. You’d do anything for Jaehyun.

He didn’t taste like anything really. There was a saltiness but that was easy to ignore. You kind of had a hard time breathing but it wasn’t impossible. Truly, it could be better but it could be worse.

“Deep breath through your nose, angel.” His deep voice knocked you out of your thoughts. Of course you listened, you always did, taking a deep breath through your nose as he put a hand on the back of your head and pushed down until your nose pressed against his stomach.

You shut your eyes tightly, loudly sputtering and gasping around his cock. Your throat spasmed around him trying to catch a breath but to no avail. You could feel tears flood your eyes and roll down your cheeks, unable to wipe them because of your restraints. Jaehyun groaned down at you, twisting his hand in your hair a little tighter to hold you down on his cock.

Everything was getting so messy. You hated messes. You didn’t want to be messy. Messes are bad. You weren’t a mess.

“Fuck,” You gagged around his cock again, trying to focus on breathing through your nose but it progressively got harder. “You look so cute with my dick down your throat, angel.” 

He thought this was cute? Rapid tears running down your cheeks and drool pooling from your mouth? Gagging around his cock? You were 90% sure you didn’t look cute right now.

You shut your eyes tightly before hitting his thigh with your tied together hands, whining up at him pathetically before he pulled you off of his dick with a deep sigh.

Once off his dick, you coughed trying to catch your breath as Jaehyun watched you turn away from him, blinking hard as your chest heaved a little bit. Jaehyun cooed patronizingly down at you, laughing at how you still struggled to get it together.

“So cute,” He coos, running his knuckles over your cheek. His words didn’t feel sincere anymore. They felt mocking. You looked up at Jaehyun with a sniffle, clearing your throat with a deep breath through your nose. 

“I–I don’t think I like it,” You tell him as you put your hands on his thigh, “I-I’m not good at it.” It was a lame excuse that you knew he wouldn’t accept, but it was worth a shot. “My throat hurts already. I–”

“It’s supposed to hurt,” Jaehyun interrupted, putting his hand back in your hair. You whimpered up at him, eyes wide and lips swollen. “If you make me cum, I’ll give you a surprise. You want that, baby?”

You swallowed up at him, batting your wet lashes up at him.

He knew you liked surprises. He knew you too well.

Slowly and unsurely, you nodded. Jaehyun smirked as he leaned down, sloppily colliding his lips with yours. You whined softly at how his tongue licked into your mouth, groaning softly at your still sweet taste before pulling back with a wet smack. 

Messy. Things were so messy.

Jaehyun grabbed you by your jaw, easily opening your mouth again so he could slide his dick into your mouth. You inhaled deeply through your nose. It didn’t help, really, you still gagged and your eyes still watered the further he pushed you down. When your nose brushed against his stomach once again. Jaehyun snapped his fingers above your head causing your wet eyes to look up from the carpet, looking up at him with the smallest whimper.

“Look at me. I want you to look at me when I fuck your face.”

Jaehyun’s never been poetic.

He was gentle at first, like he always was. His hips smooth and and slow, his cock easily sliding from the back of your throat to the tip of your tongue. You didn’t mind the pace, you slightly enjoyed it even, but with time his hips snapped harder and faster. 

It was only a matter of time before his cock was hitting the back of your throat repeatedly. The soft cute sounds you were making, morphing into dramatic gags as tears ran down your cheeks again. 

You wanted to close your eyes, you wanted to wipe the drool from your chin, you wanted to use your hands again. 

But it didn’t matter what you wanted. It was about Jaehyun. It was always about Jaehyun.

At least he was handsome, he looked so good when he felt good. He sounded like heaven too. His baritone groans were so harmonious and a blissful distraction to your throat getting fucked.

“Oh god, you’re doing so good, angel.” You hated how his compliment made your cheeks burn. “You’re no angel, huh? What angel sits around and gets their throat fucked?”

You tried to shake your head but you couldn’t move your head that much. 

You were an angel. You were his angel. 

“You’re just a whore, hm?”

You shook your head again, this time letting out a soft sound of protest that only made him fuck into your mouth harder. His hand in your hair turned iron tight as you gagged around his cock again, spit dripping from your chin and onto your dress. You hated how wet your face was, you desperately wanted to wipe your cheeks or your chin––You wanted to be clean again. 

“You just need to be put in your place,” Jaehyun groaned, brows knitting in as more little sounds left your throat. “I’ll put you in your place, baby. I’ll show you what you’re really meant to be.”

You thought he was just talking to talk, you couldn’t understand what he was saying or what it meant. The ache in your jaw was pretty distracting, your jaw going slack and eyes glossing over as both of his hands went to either side of your head for more control. His cock now sliding in and out of your throat with little resistance, the only sounds in the room are his rough groans and the crude squelching sounds from your throat.

While your eyes were staring up at him, listing like always, your mind was elsewhere.

You wished you were in the car again. You wished he was on top of you again. You wished you were kissing again. You liked kissing Jaehyun––No, you loved kissing Jaehyun. He has the softest plumpest lips, it was heaven kissing Jaehyun.

You don’t have anyone to compare him to but you bet he was the best kisser in the world.

Hastily, Jaehyun pulled you off of his cock, jerking himself off causing your eyes to drop to watch him jerk himself off but he grabbed your jaw and jerked your head up.

“Sorry.” You whispered hoarsely, watching him bite his bottom lip as you watched his face with parted spit-slicked lips. Jaehyun’s chest heaved as his breathing picked up. The small grunts he was letting out turned into loud rough moans, his head falling back as he came in thick strings of white.

A string of cum splattered on your cheek causing you to grimace a little, feeling even dirtier than before. Jaehyun watched you as he came down from his high, breathing deeply through his nose before wiping his cum on your cheek.

“Jae!” You squealed, jerking away causing him to laugh at your reaction. You whined loudly, struggling to stand from your position from the ground. The ache in your knees almost immediately once you stood, you ignored it to lift your tied hands with a clear of your throat.

“Take it off.” 

Jaehyun raised his brows at your tone, immediately knocking back into your place. 

“Please.”

He stared down at you for a second before taking your hands into his, untightening the restraints around your wrist and letting your hands free again. Once your wrists were free, you quickly wiped at your face. You didn’t know what you were wiping off at this point cum, tears, drool––You wanted a shower. You sniffled softly, holding you tainted palms out to him with a pout on your lips. Jaehyun looked at your hands then back at you, brows raised like he was supposed to do something.

“Just wipe them on your dress.”

“I don’t want to wipe them on my dress.”

“Why?”

You blinked at him.

“It’ll get dirty.” Jaehyun scoffed a little bit at that. “I don’t want it to get dirty.” He shrugged nonchalauntly like he was supposed to help you.

“There’s drool all over it already,” You bite the inside of your cheek at how dismissive his tone was.

“Wipe it on your dress.” It wasn’t a suggestion anymore. It was a demand. 

A demand that made your throat tight and your eyes dropping to the floor. Slowly, you wiped your grimy hands on the hem of your dress, brows knitting together in disgust as the white darkened to a dark grey. 

Jaehyun grabbed your chin, jerking your face up to look up at him. You stared up at him, eyes wide and innocent just like he likes.

“Do you want to shower?”

You nodded. He dropped your chin, pulling his boxers up and kicking his jeans off before striding over to a drawer. He pulls out a large black t-shirt, handing it to you before nodding towards the door across the room.

“Towels are in the cabinet.”

You looked at the door, holding the shirt close to your chest before looking back at Jaehyun.

“You don’t use 2 in 1 shampoo and conditioner, right?”

Jaehyun looks back at you, brows raised as he lets out an amused chuckle. He shakes his head.

“I–uh–No, no I don’t. I use regular shampoo and conditioner.” He walks back over to you, putting his hands out to help you up. It took a second for you to get back on your feet, your knees aching almost unbearably and legs feeling like they’re not there. You held tightly onto his hands, closing your eyes at the headrush you got from standing up, sighing at how light you felt.

“You okay?” Jaehyun asked with a quiet laugh. You didn’t answer just leaning forward and resting your head on his chest with a small sigh. It takes him a second but he wraps one arm around your waist and places his hand on the back of your head, playing with your hair as you let your eyes close.

“Go shower,” He whispered, “I’ll be right here when you get back.” You let out a small sound of protest before standing up straight, sighing. Jaehyun stared down at you, arm still loosely around your waist as he leaned down to press a kiss to the top of your head.

“I’ll be out in a minute.” You whispered, patting his chest before walking into his small dingy bathroom.

You don’t spend a lot of time in the shower. It’s small and makes you feel claustrophobic. The ends of your hair get wet but you avoid washing it, you already did so before church. 

You stepped back into Jaehyun’s room, wearing the oversized black shirt he gave you. Jaehyun looked up from his phone as he laid on his bed with one arm behind his head. He doesn’t say anything, just pats the empty space next to him.

You smiled, skipping a little as you approached the empty side of his bed and crawling next to him and resting your cheek on his chest with a fond smile. Jaehyun wrapped an arm around your shoulders before leaning in and kissing the side of your head.

Your arms easily wrapped around his torso as you watched him mindlessly scroll through his twitter timeline, both of you just laying in silence.

“We go to sleep now?” You whispered, eyes never leaving his screen but your voice clearly tired. Jaehyun looks down at you, patting your shoulder before getting up to turn off the light, silently agreeing with you. He seems to do that a lot. Showing his agreement instead of vocalizing.

He wasn’t good with words. Typically only saying critiques and crude jokes. You’ve chalked this up to him never learning how to properly communicate his feelings. You can’t be too sure though as you know little to nothing about Jaehyun before you met him.

He was a mystery. Easily, a big part of why you liked him so much.

Jaehyun climbed back in bed, turning you on your side so he could slot himself behind you, holding you to his chest with one arm around your waist. You always fell asleep easily. Something about the darkness just made it easy. Plus, Jaehyun was warm and comfy to be pressed against.

He hooked his chin over your shoulder as his hand slowly bunched up your black shirt to reveal your underwear. You opened your eyes slowly, turning to face him with a small sound of interest.

“Let me give your surprise, angel.” He whispered, gently bumping his nose with yours before colliding your lips smoothly. He pulls away from your lips, slipping his fingers into his mouth to get them wet.

It’s a crude sight to see but you can’t tear your eyes away from him. With his free hand, he held your thigh tightly, resting your leg on his hip to keep your legs spread. You let him manhandle you into the position he wanted, only letting out soft whimpers and sounds as you brought your fingers to your mouth.

Without missing a beat, he slid his wet digits down your stomach and into your underwear. You whimpered when his digits slid against your soft folds, rubbing circles into your clit. You gasped against your fingers, your hand quickly dropping from your mouth to hold tightly onto the hand that held tightly onto your thigh.

“You’re such a good girl,” Jaehyun cooed, “Bet you’ve never been touched like this before, hm?”

Your face got red red at that, shaking your head with a small whimper. Jaehyun’s the only person to ever touch you like this, you know he knows that but you nod along to his words, silently agreeing. It feels like your body is overheating with pleasure as he presses harder into your clit as the circles become slower and more diligent.

Jaehyun watches your lips as pretty little moans fall from them, kissing your neck with a groan. You arched against him, squeezing his hand with a louder than usual moan. Your cheeks immediately got red at your volume, but you couldn’t help it. You just felt so good.

Abruptly, Jaehyun removes his fingers from your underwear. Before you can complain or ask any questions, he manhandles you onto your back and pulls your underwear down your legs. He spread your legs apart so he could lay on top of you like in his car.

You were panting at this point, the ache in your core only growing as he slid his hand back between your legs, lips only centimeters from yours.

“You ever had someone inside you, angel?” Your eyes widened at his words, shaking your head in response. Jaehyun smirked down at you, humming at your answer as his finger stroked over your entrance. You looked between your bodies with knitted brows before looking up at him with concerned eyes.

“Is it going to hurt?” You whispered, nerves burning in the pit of your stomach as he shakes his head. 

“Just relax, angel.” He whispered soothingly, “I would never hurt you.”

Your throat still ached and you could still feel his belt around your wrist. But you still believe him, pressing your palms against his chest and looking up into his eyes with a soft smile.

Slowly, he pushes one finger into you, causing a small sound to leave your mouths, your brows knitting together in confusion at the forgein feeling.

“Is this what sex feels like?” You whispered, causing him to laugh a little down at you, sliding his finger in and out of you to test the waters, causing you to moan softly at the smooth glide. You were told sex was going to hurt. One girl even told you she bled after her first time. Easily, that scared the shit out of you and made you steer clear of sex, saving it for marriage. Well, that was until you met Jaehyun.

You can’t think too much about that. You’ll feel guilty because Jaehyun isn’t your husband, hell, he’s not even your boyfriend.

“I can’t really describe sex to you, gonna be honest,” He starts as he slowly working his finger into you. Jaehyun leans down to press his forehead to yours, “Your pussy is really tight. I bet fucking you would feel like fucking heaven.” Jaehyun says. You throw a hand over your head, covering your eyes in shame with a pathetic whine.

“No, no, let me see you, angel,” He chides. You take the hand off your face and look at Jaehyun, keeping eye contact. His finger inside you starts to pick up speed, and soon you can feel a second finger pushing in alongside the first. The burn from the stretch makes you whine, arching your back against him, eyes tightly shut.

“Tell me how it feels, baby,” Jaehyun groans, finger moving faster, curling upwards. You blink your eyes open, panting again, trying to think of anything to come out of your mouth to please him. He seemed to like how you struggled to get yourself together, smirking at how every time you opened your mouth to say something only moans came out.

“G-good.” You finally got out with a whimper.

“Aw, that’s all you can say?” Jaehyun taunts, moving his fingers faster, curling them upwards. You gasped up at him, digging your nails into his arms at the new sensation. This must be what euphoria feels like, you can’t think of another word to describe the feeling other than euphoric. “It feels good doesn’t it, angel? You look so good right now,” You look down to watch his fingers slide in and out of you, curling up against the bundle of nerves inside you that made you look back up at his face. “You think this feels good? Wait until I get my dick in you.”

Your eyes rolled back at his words, nails firmly digging into his biceps as you arched your back up against his chest. A loud moan rips through your throat, your eyes shutting tightly.

“Jaehyun, Jaehyun, Jaehyun,” You repeat, like a prayer , your legs start shaking against the mattress, abdomen muscles tightening. Your cries of his name turn to incoherent babbles, just you making pathetic sounds again.

Jaehyun groans into your ear at how tightly your walls contract against his fingers, kissing the side of your head as you try to ground yourself but failing. You felt like you were in the clouds, like you were floating somewhere, you just felt so good. You never imagined anything could feel this good.

Jaehyun lifts his head from the crook of your neck, staring down at you with a smirk, brushing your hair from your forehead back.

“Look at you,” He hummed, tracing your bottom lip with his index finger as he slowly pulled his fingers out of you, “So pretty.” You let your eyes open to stare into his with a small whimper. Your eyes drop to his lips, tilting your head at the urge to kiss him. You lifted your head to collide your lips. He held the side of your face, humming against your lips with a small moan.

“My pretty, pretty, angel.” Jaehyun whispered, kissing your forehead causing you to shut your eyes. You undug your nails from his biceps so you could wrap your arms around his torso to pull him closer. 

It took him a second to recuperate, wrapping his arms around you to hold you tightly to his chest. You nuzzled into the crook of his neck, pressing a kiss under his jaw before pulling back and resting against the flat pillow beneath your head.

“Did you like your surprise?” He asked with a cocky smile, causing you to giggle softly. Your cheeks grew pink at that, covering your face with one hand. Jaehyun rolled off of you, giving you the ability to feel around for your underwear.

You finally found them by the end of his bed, slipping your underwear back on with a small ‘hmph’ sound, causing Jaehyun to lift his head and watch you. You soothed your shirt down, letting it rest at your knees, looking up to lock eyes with him in the dark, blinking a beat after him.

“You going to lay back down?” Jaehyun asks.

“Where else would I go?” You huffed, crawling back to your spot and laying down. Jaehyun doesn’t answer, just lets out a grunt and pulls you to his side.

The rest of the night was silent and cold.

#jaehyun scenarios #jaehyun scenario #nct smut #jaehyun smut #nct 127 smut #nct imagines #nct scenarios #nct ff #nct fanfic #jung jaehyun #jaehyun angst #jaehyun imagine

[stateofcharles]

we have your back - LH44

pairing: Lewis Hamilton x fem!reader

word count: ~ 2,1k

warnings: hurt/comfort, harsh language, sexism, RB team

summary: (requested by Anon) Hello! Can I request one with LH44 where you work at Merc, and are like the little girl for everyone in the team, and in one race someone from other team is really mean to you so he defends you 🙏🏼💕

a/n: first request yay :) i added something to the end, lemme know if you like it. keep sending me your ideas, i love reading them and i’ll try to work on them asap <3

“Good morning Y/N!” Angela greeted you as you entered the Mercedes garage that Thursday for media day. You were wearing your Mercedes merch, as usual, and you had sunglasses on the top of your head.

You were a quite known figure in the paddock: despite being very young, recently graduated, you had been working in the F1 world for 2 years already. Everything had started thanks to your dad’s long friendship with Toto Wolff. The Austrian man had always been a constant presence at your house, ever since you were a kid, and when he knew about your studies he hadn’t hesitated to offer you an internship at the Mercedes factory.

Saying that everyone had loved you ever since the first day was an understatement: your outgoing and friendly personality had immediately caught everybody’s attention, especially a certain British driver’s. 

You and Lewis had gradually gotten to know each other and you had developed a strong bond. Despite the age gap, you were great friends and you both knew you could count on each other whenever you needed it.

Over time, it was crystal clear that you were born to work in that environment, you were a natural talent, and it didn’t take a long time before you had a stable job. 

While everyone in your team was really happy and proud of you, it was no secret that some other team didn’t believe the same. More than once you had been told about Marko’s and other Red Bull’s workers bad-mouthing you. The most popular rumour spread by them was that you had gotten your job because you were hooking up with one of the drivers or - even worse - with Toto. That latter was disgusting: Toto was almost a second father to you, how could that thought even cross their mind?

Despite your numerous attempts not to listen to them, those words hurt you. You had always been confident about your capabilities and you really didn’t want some stupid man to ruin that state. That day someone thought it differently though.

“Hiya Ang!” you greeted the woman back, then asked “is Lewis already here? I have some documents he should read before the interviews begin.”

“I’ve seen him heading towards his driver’s room about ten minutes ago, but I don’t know if he’s still here.” You smiled and nodded, then you headed to the drivers’ zone, where you knew you could find the boy. In fact, you saw him just leaving his driver’s room, so you called his name, drawing his attention.

“Hey beauty!” he smiled at you, genuinely happy to see you, and then engulfed you in a big hug. 

“Hi Lew,” you untangled from his arms, immediately handing him the papers, which he gazed confusedly at, “Just some stuff I was told you should read before the conference.”

“What about?” he asked.

“You know, the usual, about which journalists will be there and the kind of questions they could be asking you.” you answered boringly; that pattern would repeat itself almost every race weekend, you knew it by heart basically.

“Well, then I don’t care.” He handed it back to you, “You know that anyway I’ll do whatever I want” he stated with a devilish grin.

“Yeah, sure.” You grinned back, it was impossible not to be affected by his beautiful expression.

“See you later Y/N, gotta go!” he was almost leaving you but before you could wave back, he surprised you by leaving a sweet kiss on your cheek.

You stood in the hallway, unable to move: these interactions weren’t new, but in the past they had always come after a specific event. That was the first time he had acted so spontaneously. You couldn’t deny you had liked it, that would have been hypocritical.

__________

Lewis was sitting in the conference room together with Pierre, Daniel, Mick and Alex. You had managed to sneak in just a couple of minutes after the beginning, and were now standing in the back of the hall. No one had noticed you except for him, his face had immediately lightened up when he saw you, and that had made your stomach clench. You were falling for the driver you worked for, how could you be so pathetic?

You were too busy drooling all over him that you hadn’t heard the question he had just been asked. You were alarmed by his expression, which suddenly became serious, too serious. 

“Sorry, can you repeat, I think I misunderstood.” He was tense, you could tell it by both his tone and his body position: he had brought his elbows on his knees and he was staring intensely at the journalist, his eyes meaning just Tell me I misunderstood because otherwise you’re dead.

“Uhm yeah, sure.” The journalist, a man in his 50s, had as well sensed Lewis’ mood shift, and he was clearly trying to readjust his question. “Have you heard about what’s been said this morning about your team?” He was testing the waters, scared that he may have overstepped.

“No? I didn’t have this pleasure but enlighten me, please.” He was sarcastic, meaning that he had perfectly heard the first question.

“Ok, then-” the man stopped, he was blatantly nervous. “In a press conference this morning it has been said that someone from your team has been hired thanks to some favours done to the people from high up, and it was sworn they would bring evidence.” He had said it all in one breath, and he was now waiting for Lewis’ answer, like all the others in the room. Everyone was silent, and you could see some photographers getting ready as soon as Lewis took a deep breath before replying.

“May I ask who spread those rumours and who are they about?” The boy was still incredibly calm, but you could sense he was soon to blow up.

“I can’t- I mean I was told not to-” the man was stuttering, utterly scared by the Britishman. It was impressive how towering his presence was, he could silence everyone with just a glare.

“Perhaps I should rephrase my sentence: tell me now who said so and who they were talking about. It’s not a question, it’s an order.” He was clearly getting angrier and angrier, you knew he couldn’t stand anyone being disrespectful towards his team, which had been his second family for almost 10 years. 

The journalist sighed desolated, clearly knowing what he had gotten himself into and that he was anyway going to be screwed. “Christian Horner, this morning during an interview for a Dutch channel, and he was talking about Y/N Y/L/N.”

Lewis didn’t seem to react at the beginning, but then he let out a sour giggle before stating, “Why was I expecting it?”

The room was dead-silent, no one dared speak or move. Your heart started pounding and you could see your vision blurring because of the tears: knowing about the rumours was already humiliating, but hearing them from a complete stranger who seemed to believe them was something else. The fact that now Lewis was conscious was even worse. You thought that you were the only one in the team who was aware of them, but now you knew that it was just a matter of time before news would be spread everywhere, and you would start getting hateful messages from anyone. 

When Lewis finally decided to speak, you were still petrified and were barely registering his words. “First of all, tell Horner to mind his fucking business and worry about his team and his team only. Also remind him that the trophy here is for winning the races, not for who spreads more bullshit about other teams, ‘cause he seems to be a pro in this.” His voice was pure ice, but he didn’t seem to want to stop.

“Secondly, nobody from the team owes you any kind of explanation, but since apparently this is the only way you’ll shut up, then I guess it’s on me. Y/N was hired because she’s incredibly talented, she has proved more than once that she has all the requirements and she’s perfectly qualified to work with us, she’s even doing better than many other people who have been there since before her arrival. And then I’d like to ask, but this is just my impression, why hasn’t anyone said anything about Elliott? He’s a friend of Angela’s and he was hired just a couple of months ago, though no one seemed to care about it, am I wrong?” As he kept speaking, you couldn’t help but stare at him, a sense of protection was flowing from his eyes to your body.

“Avoid this kind of sexist comments because if you think they’ll get you some popularity then you’re completely wrong. And now I’m leaving, I don’t care about this shitshow anymore.” As he finished his speech he stood up, he placed the microphone on the chair and headed towards the door. Just before exiting, he seemed to remember something and you saw him walking to you, before grabbing your hand and leaving through the fire exit.

You weren’t really paying attention to where he was leading you, still startled by what had just happened, but before you could realise you found yourself in his driver’s room. Again, he hugged you tightly before whispering in your ear “Let it go” and then was when all your walls broke down. Tears started streaming over your cheeks and then on his shirt, but he didn’t seem to care, he just lifted you up and then sat on his couch with you still clinging to him. 

He nuzzled your neck with his nose, an incredibly intimate gesture that immediately calmed your sobs. When you looked up, you were met with the kindest hazel eyes and the softest smile you had ever seen. He left a kiss on your forehead, one on your nose and then he pecked you on the lips. You widened your eyes but he didn’t seem to notice any change, as if it was routine for him to kiss you like that. 

“You know you don’t have to listen to what some idiot rambles about you right?” He didn’t even wait for your answer, he just kept going on, “Here we all know your value, you are perfect to work here and I know Toto saw that something in you.”

“I- it’s just so difficult Lewis,” your voice was still broken and you let out a deep sigh, “I know I can make it but it’s horrible because their words creep in my head.”

“Why have you never told me about it? You know I’m here for you, right?”

“I know that and I’m extremely grateful to you for this but- I don’t wanna be a burden and I wanna show them I can make it on my own, you know that?”

“I get it but-” he paused, as if he was looking for the best words to voice his thoughts, “This world can be overwhelming and cruel. No one will blame you if you look for help, especially during these first years. The team and I are more than willing to support you in your journey sweetie, just don’t keep all this inside, it’s not healthy.” He left another kiss on your forehead, as if he was sealing his promise.

You couldn’t help but throw yourself in his arms, shaken by that day’s events but extremely grateful for Lewis and your team having your back. You were still processing everything that had happened in the previous hour that you almost forgot about the kiss. Though apparently they boy hadn’t. 

“Can I ask you something?” he was suddenly… nervous? You nodded and he went on, “I know maybe now it’s not the best of times, but I was wondering if- well if you’d like to go out together tonight.” Wait, was he blushing? Lewis Hamilton, 7-time world champion and the man who had just silented a whole room just with his gaze, was blushing… because of you?

You came back to reality when you realised his words. “Go out… like a date? Me and you?” You couldn’t believe your ears, was that really happening?

“Yeah, that was the idea.” He scratched the back of his head, a sheepish smile on his lips, on those flawless lips that had kissed yours just a little while before.

You took his hand in yours, squeezing it, while this time it was you who left a peck on his mouth. “I’d be honoured to.” You whispered back, and you could swear that the smile that adorned his face after was the brightest you had ever seen.

#lewis hamilton #lewis hamilton imagine #lewis hamilton one shot #lewis hamilton fic #lewis hamilton fanfic #lewis hamilton x reader #lewis hamilton x you #lewis hamilton angst #f1 #f1 imagine #f1 one shot #f1 x reader #f1 fic #f1 fandom #f1 drivers #f1 drivers one shot #f1 drivers imagine #f1 drivers x reader #formula 1 #formula 1 imagine #formula 1 one shot #formula 1 fic #formula 1 drivers one shot #formula 1 drivers imagine #formula 1 drivers x reader #beh writes

[milkyhub]

— [ KAZUHA AND HIS LITTLE STEPSIS ] +18

♡⃕ anon req. smth with kazu’s pretty little stepsis who does everything with him and listens to everything he says <3 they love each other so much, enough for her to ask him to take her virginity, and he does. praise and maybe size kink included? have a great day/night <3

♡⃕ note. but ofc 🥺 enjoy!! like and rb are appreciated!! <3 asks open for more reqs and thirsts! mdni, dark content ahead!! block if u don't like this type of content!!

♡⃕ cw. dom! kazuha, modern au, stepcest, masturbation, he's a perv, slight corruption kink, size kink, praising kink, unprotected sex, calls u baby once, slight possessive behavior, hint of breeding kink???, not proofread.

♡⃕ pd. this is one of the asks requested on my other account @itzbwmbi, currently shadowbanned. im using this one since it seems that the problem is not getting solved anytime soon. sorry for the inconveniences and the sudden change of accs.

stepbro!kazuha who from the day he started living with you swore to protect you from everything and fulfill all your wishes. you were so small and cute that he couldn't refuse anything you asked for, even if your whims were worth half his savings. your parents were so proud of your good relationship, leaving the care work to kazuha when they had to go out. in addition, with him you'd tell that you had a better time.

stepbro!kazuha who no matter how many years passed, he was always going to treat you the same, like his dear little sister. he'd do everything you wanted, whether it be watching a series together, playing video games, going out for a walk. anything you ask for, he'd have it done in less than a second, and all because of how much he loves and appreciates his sweet stepsis.

stepbro!kazuha who maybe loves you a little bit more than he should. now that you have grown up, he's realized how beautiful you truly are. you were literally so hot that his prying eyes kept roaming your body every time you turned around.

stepbro!kazuha who you show all your new dresses to, making it difficult for him to maintain eye contact when the clothes are too tight, making your curves and that nice ass more visible. he always has to look away, cheeks turning pink as his mind keeps looping over the image of your body in that short dress, wondering what's under it.

stepbro!kazuha who jerks off in his room thinking about his innocent little sister. feels so dirty and guilty but he can't help it :( he pumps his cock up and down imagining it was your tight little pussy instead of his hand. he knows that you are a good and innocent girl, and you have never thought anything obscene about anyone, and a great feeling of remorse surrounds him when he looks at you the next day.

“if you only knew the things i think of you...”

stepbro!kazuha who knows for a fact that you've never done anything sexual. knows that you are still a pure and clean-minded girl, not like him. and he wants it to be that way for a long time. the simple fact of thinking that another boy could steal that innocence fills him with rage and helplessness. you're his little sister, no one has the right to steal anything from you, except himself.

stepbro!kazuha whose eyes can not believe that one night you silently appeared in his bedroom, tears rolling down your reddish cheeks while you try to drown your sobs with the back of your hand. he's so surprised that he just watches your movements as you crawl over to his bed until you lie next to him. it doesn't take long for him to open his arms and give you a space on his chest to rest your head there, stroking your hair once you're positioned over him. you hug your stepbrother tightly, flatly refusing to look at him as you shyly whimper the next few words.

“please help me stop being a virgin. i want you to fuck me, please, kazu...”

you can't see it, but kazuha's eyes instantly light up and his heart seems to stop for a second, his breathing becoming erratic as he processes your words. he has many questions about it — why do you care so much about losing your virginity? why have you chosen him, your stepbrother, instead of any other boy? despite all his doubts, the answer that comes out of his mouth is clear and firm. “i'll help you. but you have to be quiet, 'kay? or they'll hear us and we'll have a big problem.”

you thought he was goingto refuse, and now that the opposite has happened, terror fills your body. this is wrong, so wrong, it's your own stepbrother, it's his bed, and your parents are at home, sleeping in their room. as you think of all the possible bad endings, you don't realize that kazuha has changed positions, and now his figure is on top of you, his hands on the sides of your head supporting his weight so as not to hurt you, slowly lowering himself to join his lips with yours for the first time, moving them desperately as if he's been wanting this for a long time.

stepbro!kazuha who gently pushes your panties aside, his long fingers brushing against your pussy making you shudder and hiss. unable to wait any longer, he takes his cock in his hand and pumps it a couple of times before lining it right up against your wet entrance. “i'll go slowly. tell me when you want me to stop.” his cock is huge at your eyes, so big you think it won't fit. you squeeze your eyes shut as the tip of his hard cock begins to work its way through your walls, stretching them oh so nicely. the way your pretty pussy tighten around his cock makes him gasp slightly. “just relax, or i won't be able to control myself.”

stepbro!kazuha who starts pounding into you once you are adapted to his size. it's now that he realizes how small your body is compared to him, but you're so cute, the feeling of corrupting you is making his cock twitch inside you. “fuck- you are doing so well, taking my cock s'good, baby.” he whispers in your ear. seeing how your pussy clench to his praises, he keeps whispering in your ear how well you're behaving, how well you're doing, and how well you've done in asking your reliable big brother to take your virginity before any other guy does it.

stepbro!kazuha who pushes your thighs towards your chest with his hand, giving him access to hit the most sensitive spot of your pussy with his cock. with his other hand he wipes away the tears of pleasure spilling out of your closed eyes, cherry lips red and swollen from the intense make out session kazuha has given you earlier. he was so needy of you, he just couldn't help it. he'll apologize later. <3

stepbro!kazuha who wants to cum inside you so bad but knows that would be problematic for you both. his slender fingers move in circles on your clit, accelerating your orgasm as his thrusts become sloppy because he too is getting closer and closer, the knot in his abdomen becoming more and more unbearable, needing to quickly get his cock out to end over all your stomach, warm white fluid staining your skin to the last drop.

stepbro!kazuha who apologizes if he has been very rough at some point, but your face denoting pleasure and exhaustion assures him that he's done a good job fulfilling his sister's wishes one more time. oh sweet, sweet little sister of his… how he wishes you'd ask him again to use his cock to relieve yourself whenever you needed it. :( you'll ask him again, right? after all, he wants you to use him as you please. <3

© 2022 milkyhub.

#genshin smut #genshin x reader #genshin headcanons #genshin kazuha #kazuha x reader #kazuha smut #tw.smut #tw.stepcest #milky.delivers

[inchidentally]

Your favorite moments from Lando and Oscar's challenges?

I HAD TO STOP DOING THIS BC I WAS LOSING HALF MY LIFE REWATCHING THE VIDEOS

so an incomplete but already exhaustive list:

is it just redundant to say Finish the Lyric at this point bc it's confirmed landoscar lore now. specifically the way that Lando keeps wriggling and leaning into Oscar's space is an underrated part but honestly it's the prime example of Oscar watching Lando's every move and Lando playing up to Oscar's attention every way possible. special mention for Lando's immense pride at Oscar singing for the first time ever in front of him.

honestly same for Garden Games - self-explanatory but the sheer squeakiness and giddiness when Lando was (secretly hoping) asking if Oscar would go between his legs while saying Oscaaahhh launched so many fic moments OH and Lando once again being so proud that Oscar did his first Like and Subscribe

Red Flag/Green Flag "I'm a Scorpio and lemme tell you all about it" and "maybe it is me" because Lando uhhhh truly let his flag fly in this one and Oscar had a blast. they do SO much better with challenges that are more freeform because Lando likes to act up and Oscar loves it.

Lie Detector test is SO FLIRTY. the fact that they keep trying to almost touch hands by awkwardly leaning the machine right in the middle when they don't have to. the way it feels like a first date. but the "you've got quite big arms" is the moment for me. and I mean yes, Oscar does have quite big arms.

Who Said What because of the sheer fondness but also "you like having fun huh?" "I do like having fun" - oh and the incredibly fond look Oscar gives Lando when Lando puts his hands in the air to celebrate at the end

Who's Most Likely To precisely because Oscar keeps trying to avoid showing that he already knows every fact about Lando but slips up a lot. my favorite underrated moment is when Lando tells the story about having to sneak back into his own house as a kid (he had told this during a Max stream? or Quadrant? video already) and babes we KNOW Oscar already knew about that one too. oh and let's not forget the Hair Touch. this was also classic bc Max watched it on stream and stood up for Oscar every time.

Iconic Toys - Lando marching Barbie over to Oscar is too fucking adorable, especially the fact that Oscar lets it happen and keeps talking but also began a habit Lando had for a while of stretching over to Oscar's chair for some reason

Build Their own Dream F1 Team - Mahk Wibba is obviously a great moment but my favorite is how Lando keeps butting in on Oscar's choices and Oscar is the dutiful husband saying yes dear and as always Lando getting impatient when Oscar takes too long (even though Lando takes lots of time to answer)

Theory Test - this little moment of "right? right" was so cute bc it was so early in knowing each other but Oscar is already reacting to Lando's 'I'm an absolute little shit' expressions and same goes for Oscar patiently walking Lando through one sentence so patiently and saying "there you go"

Fact or Phish - because we found out Oscar's heritage but also found out that Lando doesn't understand the difference between nationality and heritage - we also had Lando for the first time ever in any McLaren or honestly even Quadrant challenge history, remember something about someone else's past besides his own which honestly was legendary

dear god help my life since you sent this ask anon bc I've basically eaten gone to the toilet worked and watched landoscar challenges and NOTHING else

there are so many more so I might return to this but I have to stop myself for now

(please rb with your own anyone who sees this!)

#landoscar lore #mctwinks #twinklaren #inchreplies

[blamemma]

OMG emma, I swear I have been writing an Engineer!Max/Driver!Daniel story for the LONGEST time, I’ll try to summarize where it’s at here:

Okay so, let say Simon retires as Danny’s engineer a little early (sorry Simon ily) and Max starts as Danny’s race engineer in mid 2016. At first Danny thinks it’s a joke right? Like there’s no way this 17-yr-old kid is gonna be as good as Simon?? Except Max is GOOD. Better than good, actually. He’s the best. Because it’s MAX (and Max is Max). 2017 is a little bit of an adjustment period for them but then they GET IT RIGHT in 2018 and Helmut gets his wish: Danny wins the WDC that year and then his random RB teammate (idk who it would be and it’s not important for the story) wins it in 2019.

RB are on top and everything’s great. Danny and Max are so flirty on radio and F1 Twitter is losing it after every interaction between them, rumours are also abound in the paddock about them. But Max eventually ends up a little put out that everyone thinks they’re sleeping together (they most definitely ARE) because he also wants to be taken seriously, not always in the background, attached to Danny’s wins and loses.

He wants to prove himself basically, that he’s a good engineer because he just IS a good engineer and that it’s not just because it’s him and Danny. So in 2020 he jumps to Mercedes in a shock-exit a-la-Danny-to-Renault. Even more shook-ness he actually helps Lewis re-take the WDC that year, and the vibes are just RANCID at the final race. Like, Max is there with Lewis and Mercedes and can’t even look at Danny and Christian trying to console the team after the loss. F1 Twitter found dead, etc. etc. Danny hasn’t had a win in two years at this point (since he and max cooled things off in 2019) and finally snaps, and it’s announced by the next season that he’s moving to McLaren in 2021 (queue the ominous music)

There’s like six chapters of Max just sitting in Mercedes watching Daniel struggle in McLaren and just the LONGING and PINING is too much for everyone. They maybe break at some point before Danny leaves the grid and have really tender, desperate sex where Danny literally tells Max: “I miss you, I can’t do anything without you. You ruined my whole fucking career and my life, you know that?”

Cut to Danny being signed as RB’s third driver and then Max getting a call from Christian since he wants BOTH of his golden boys back. They’re in some office in Milton Keynes when Christian asks him outright: “how much?” and Max just stares at him because it’s not about the money at all. It never was.

“Of course, I would only come back to work with Daniel again.”

And Christian, to his credit, doesn’t even look surprised.

END SCENE!

ok u need to let me know when u publish this because i am hooked!!!

#anon #asks

[landthatplane-blog]

Another steam of consciousness on Mr Daniel Ricciardo and no sleep so apologies in advance if things are a bit scattered.

A little scared to post because tags have been intense.

Anyways....

Happy for Daniel. Everyone criticized him for taking a break last year (which he clearly needed) and not taking a Haas/Williams seat. People thought that he thought he was too good. Well, he's now taking a seat at the last place team, to rebuild and prove himself. He sees a pathway, but he's taking the step down in hopes for a long view move. He is a multiple race winner and probably could have retired but of course, unfinished business. Beauty of the sport. The comeback. He's allowed the chance to rebuild and is literally starting with a back marker team now and knows he has to prove himself. But now, people are pressed he is in a seat. Again, obviously Red Bull see something in him. If they weren't seeing some indication - based on Red Bull's history of being cutthroat - this wouldn't be a conversation. Even on that Simon Rennie/RB podcast, Simon mentioned not wanting to basically lie or hype Daniel up if the results weren't there. There's a trust there. Luckily, they saw something. They literally can't hire Daniel solely for markeing/PR. Does it help? Of course. Everyone has to find value wherever they can. There's only 20 seats people have to take their opportunities where they can.

Alpha Tauri is a junior team narrative. It was but they've obviously repeatedly put out there they're looking for a restructure with one experienced driver and one younger, and they're going to be using Red Bull parts. Two young drivers (unless you're a generational talent like MV) could very well result in little to no points and they're dead last right now. Haas had to bring back two experienced drivers to make up for the previous years of two young drivers. They need an injection of experience.

Pay Driver - He has not had a family member nor a huge corporation buy his way into the sport. He's built a career where people are interested in him - over 10 years - how can people find a way to penalize that? Again, he can't win. Just because he can pull in interest from huge sponsors - again, after years of building a career, that's just the business. If it was based on that person's definition alone - Lewis, Lando would also be pay drivers. But it isn't based on that factor alone. There's so many factors.

A lot of people deserve things, but this is a competitive sport, so nothing is ever guaranteed. Liam may very well deserve a spot on the grid, but you could also say he never would have had this opportunity if not for DR's accident. Also, if he’s as great as people think he is - I’m not too worried for him. People keep going back to Alex Albon's appendix causing the string of recent events but sometimes I think - this all wouldn't have happened if Daniel hadn't left Red Bull in first place lol. Maybe he'd still have his Red Bull seat now! I don't mean that in a he shouldn't have left, just that his leaving kind of caused a similar effect and gave all these other people opportunities lol. But again, that's not really how it works. They're making decisions based on today's circumstances. And now, he's come back but has to re-earn his spot. His leg up is Christian Horner supports him, but he still has to perform to get back. Just think it's funny people are acting like, there won't be hard work or there's no talent (again, drivers don't forget how to drive). It's complicated and impossible to identify who "deserves" a seat more or less. So many variables and impossible to be definitive (the way some people speak as if they know everything/must be right). Guess, we could argue forever which is what's entertaining. That said....

Professionalism/Kindness. While I think everyone knows that the way McLaren handled Daniel's exit was in poor taste, never once did Daniel complain or make excuses. He was professional and continues to be. The results weren't there. When he was fired (let go, released), he understood it. Acknowledged the results weren't there and this was part of the sport (I'll get into that NY Times article another time - but it was clearly not for a lack of trying). Daniel called Oscar Piastri to tell him no hard feelings. Wanted him to still have a positive start. Even Checo has been asked about Daniel "coming after his seat" and presumably under a lot of pressure for 2025 and his response was also professional and an understanding of the sport. He said Daniel's a friend and there are only 20 seats, there's no hard feelings. It's up to him (Checo) to perform. They all understand. Nobody inherently deserves or is guaranteed a seat. Wish some fans would understand. If the drivers aren't publically pressed about it themselves - maybe everyone just calm down. People are just so nasty, and without actually knowing all the information. Twitter/X is the worst. This should be fun, juicy, competitive but no need to bring hate or be nasty.

That's all for now🤷🏻‍♀️. As always, happy to discuss but please be kind (or funny).

#daniel ricciardo #dr3 #danny ric #f1 #formula 1

[stormoflina]

you wont answer me cuz you know im right. i loved szobo in the early days but his drop off was huge and now he is just another hospital merchant. for all the hype of him being the next kdb he cant even score a solo goal and im yet to see a good pass from him in the final third

Well hello anon.

I didn't answer you, because

1. The last couple of days my head was moving in between the Moon and Mars, and I'm not sure if I would have been able to remain respectful.

2. I'm getting tired of all these anons coming to my infobox and, for the lack of a better expression, trying to take the piss out of me. If you read my posts you know that he's one of my favourite players, and that I'm not mindless hater about any of our players, but especially not towards him.

3. You were being very condescending and annoying.

But buckle up my dear salty anon.

Dominik, naturally, is an offensive minded midfielder. At Leipzig, he basically played as a wide 10 (or occasional RW) and for the most part he does the same for Hungary. In both teams he was a pressing monster, his pressing is arguably one of the best in the current Liverpool squad as well. The difference is, that in both teams he had other midfielders behind him. He still had defensive duties, but not this current caliber. In Hungary he plays one of the hardest and most taxing roles: he drops deep to collect the ball, helps the build up from deep, and he contributes a LOT in defense, but he also has freedom to roam around the pitch, and enjoys the other midfielders support when he appears in the final third.

In Liverpool, he is a box-to-box midfielder. A different role, and not just a different role in midfield, but he is a midfielder under Klopp, played in the RHS in a triangle with Salah and Trent. Salah is our main goalscorer, Trent is our main creator. His job is to provide a stable link up between the two, allowing them to express themselves freely, offer his support, keep the width when needed, etc etc. Without him doing this, that rhs can't function properly. And this is just one of his many responsibilities. When Trent inverts into midfield he drops back into either help out (Ibou), or takes up completely the RB position. A position he has never played, by the way. He's constantly pressing, constantly running, constantly covering/contributing in defensive duties. He is the 5th fastest player this season. Other than his pressing, his other great quality is his off-ball work. Again, arguably, his awareness and intelligence when it comes to that is one of the best in the current squad. I encourage you to watch back some of our recent matches and take notice of him instead of the one giving the assist/scoring, many cases, without his efforts it wouldn't get to the point of it being a goal scoring opportunity.

I'm not going to argue with you and say that his passing hasn't looked a bit off in certain matches, that he didn't have some bad first touches or unnecessary long shots. He did. But please also think about all these NEW and constant duties, (other than the pressing& off-ball work), doesn't come natural to him at all and how these can affect his performance in the final third. Yes, it's an excuse,but a reasonable one in my opinion, maybe not for you, whatever.

All in all, it's easy to fail when you have been shifted from a role of being supported to being the one who is the constant and many times only support. Mind it, this is happening in a much more physical, much more demanding and stronger league. It's no wonder fatigue and eventually injury caught up to him. Other than Endo (and he only had like 5-6 starters in the PL), all of our starting midfielders struggled with injuries throughout the season, Domi was the last one to go down.

Anyways, this is the last time I did this. I'm so sick and tired, especially now with all the hate towards him, having the same conversation again and again. You think he's a bad, selfish person with a big ego, who insults and makes fun of his teammates etc etc. I'm not here to change your mind. But maybe try at least watching football with your eyes open before you start accusing one of the team's most selfless and most hard-working players, who is literally out injured (and likely very upset and heartbroken about that) because he tried to give his everything for his club, manager, teammates and fans.

#dominik szoboszlai #lfc #liverpool fc #im so over this i might pin this ask on my tumblr

[venusvity]

IN WHICH ... The House We Built Is Made of Paper and Sticks.

FEATURING ... JUNG YOONAH + KANG JUWON

TRIGGER WARNINGS ... Suggestive. Mentions of grooming, Cursing, Crying, Arguing kinda? They have an intense conversation. Mentally Ill Characters.

WRITER'S NOTE … This is 2.5k so technically long enough to be a piece instead of a drabble but I didn't feel like making a header sdfksnfks anyways, it's a follow up to this piece because they've been scratching my brain recently. Not proofread btw! rbs, comments, and asks are always appreciated ♡

Despite his doubts, Yoonah did go home that night. She sat pretty on their couch and waited for him to return from work. It must’ve been exhausting, she thought. Jiho told her that Jinhwa made them move their entire practice room to the Mydol building without help from movers. Juwon must be tired but Yoonah isn’t. Yoonah is wide awake and feels like a tiger that’s been circling her enclosure for hours.

“Baby?” Juwon calls from the entryway of their apartment. Yoonah’s eyes flicker up at the TV in front of her, blinking with a quiet sigh through her nose as she rubs her palms on her bare knees. She turned her head towards the hall, and hearing his footsteps made her lips curl inward. 

When Juwon steps into her line of vision, she looks up at him with dearie brown eyes. Juwon looks tired like Yoonah guessed he would, his long black hair frizzy and in his face and eyes unreadable as he forces a smile at her. He’s not happy to see her like he’s pretending. She can tell when he’s actually smiling verses when he makes himself do it for appearances. She hates how much he cares about appearances but it’s a part of him she’s learned to love, forced herself to look past because she loves every other aspect of him. She loves Juwon so much it hurts.

“You didn’t go out?” Juwon asks, sitting beside her on the couch like nothing is wrong. Yoonah stares at him blankly, taking in how red his cheek is from earlier. A bruise is blossoming there right above his cheekbone; a nauseating yellow begins to form on his usually tan skin. Silently, Yoonah shakes her head, feeling a sense of guilt take over her the longer she stares at his cheek. Juwon nods empathetically, putting a hand on her knee. His touch makes her blood run cold and a lump form in her throat. His touch was once a great comfort to Yoonah, bringing her out of her lowest lows and taking her to her highest highs, but now she can’t stand it. She wants the warmth back. She wants the comfort. In just the few hours they’ve been separated, she already misses what they had.

Not breaking her silence, Yoonah reaches up and takes his bruised cheek into her palm, causing Juwon to flinch softly before relaxing into her touch. Yoonah just stares at him, waiting for him to say something, to start the conversation they need to have, to say anything to mend what he’s done or at least start a fight––Something. She wants him to say something. Her eyes go from vacant to desperate the longer the silence hangs in the air, tilting her head at him hoping it prompts him to speak. It’s a silent plea she hopes he hears.

Juwon swallows, leaning in and resting his forehead against hers, shutting his eyes once they’re inches apart. Yoonah blinks at him, breathing getting heavier when she feels tears tug at her eyes. The silence is beginning to suffocate her, making every breath feel like it’s her last. Her eyes blink quickly to take back her tears, but it only makes them spill over in big droplets on the couch, soft thuds being heard when they hit the fabric and sink in.

“I didn’t want to,” Juwon whispers finally but keeps his eyes closed. He can’t look at her, and it makes her feel like sobbing. “I just–It’s complicated.”

“You hate him more than I do,” Yoonah says, matching his tone with a strained voice. “Why? Please, try to find a way to tell me. Please.” 

Juwon sits up with a deep breath through his nose, lifting one hand to rest on her thigh. She swallows, her dark brows knitting as she drops her hand from his cheek to rest atop of his tattooed hand. Patience is something Yoonah has always struggled with—everything around her moves at lightning speed, but Juwon. Juwon is slow and cautious. He always looks both ways before crossing the street; he nearly misses the exits on the highway because he takes so long to merge, and he takes forever to finish his meals. He is the only thing in her life she’s ever got to take her time with. It makes it all the more painful.

“I knew why he was doing it. It was like he was trying to–” He squeezes her thigh as he struggles to find the words. Yoonah is glad his eyes are still shut because she looks less than enthralled by how his answer is going.  He pauses, then says, “–make it last longer. He wanted to break me in there.” Yoonah feels her heart sink. The thought of Jinhwa and Juwon in the same room together, especially an office, makes her nauseous. Jinhwa said a lot of horrible things to her in his office; he would lock her in there for hours with him while he worked, and she just sat in his lap like a doll. His office was hell for Yoonah by the end of their relationship. Juwon swallows, shaking his head softly.

“It was like I had something to prove to him. Like, I wasn’t scared of him. I’m not scared of him.”

“I know you’re not,” Yoonah assures, even if she doesn’t believe it. “You should’ve talked to me first. A warning would’ve been nice, Juwon.” He nods at her words, pulling back to look in her eyes, still nodding.

“I should’ve. I should’ve, and I’m so sorry I didn’t, baby. I’m so sorry,” Juwon insists, his big brown eyes looking at her desperately as he leans forward for their noses to touch. Yoonah pulls back just slightly out of hesitance. There is still a nasty feeling in her stomach every time Juwon gets close to her, but she swallows it down and squeezes his wrists, eyes flicking from his eyes to his lips and then back to his pleading eyes.

“I don’t know if I can move on from this,” Yoonah admits, “It’s so deep, Juwon. This cut so deep I-I can feel it in my soul. Like, you were the last person I ever expected this from and-and it’s like I'm suffocating. It’s like he’s two steps away from walking in our house and it freaks me out. This freaks me the fuck out.” Tears fall down Yoonah’s cheeks again as she expresses everything she let out through violence earlier. Juwon nods in understanding again, which only seems to make the ache in Yoonah’s chest worse. He knows, and he still did it.

She grabs his face with both her hands, jerking him towards her and making his eyes widen slightly.  She whispers, "I can never get away from him, even with you. Do you not get how that kills me?" Juwon stays silent, his eyes still wide. Yoonah lets go of him, her hands dropping into her lap before she stands from the couch with a deep breath.

“I’m going to bed. You can-” She motions towards the couch then the bedroom, blinking hard a few times as a grating sound plays in her brain that leaves her itching for a fix of something she hasn’t had in years. It makes her shut her eyes tightly, blinking at the floor when she starts to see shapes behind her eyelids.

“Sleep with me if you want. I know you’re tired.” It’s an awkward way to leave things but Yoonah hasn’t been the most personable person lately. The internet won’t let her forget it, and neither will Iseul. As she walks to the bedroom, she can hear her boss’s voice demanding she smile more, telling her to use a softer tone of voice, to stop being such a bitch when the cameras are on. There are so many aspects of Yoonah’s life that feel like they’re crumbling in on her. She doesn’t know what to do. She’s never felt so low before. It feels impossible. It’s just one thing after the other, and she can’t stand it.

Without a word, Juwon follows Yoonah into the bedroom, his heart heavy with the weight of her pain. He watches her as she sits on the edge of the bed, her shoulders shaking with silent sobs. The room is filled with a heavy silence, broken only by the sound of Yoonah's ragged breathing. Juwon hesitates for a moment before moving to sit beside her, his presence offering a silent comfort.

Yoonah finally turns to look at him, her eyes filled with a mix of exhaustion and desperation. Blindly, she takes his face into her hands again, pulling him in to kiss him messily. She doesn’t care for precision or tact; she just presses her lips to Juwon’s to feel something. Juwon doesn’t seem to care, wrapping his arms around her waist and chasing her lips with a soft groan as he pulls her chest flush against his. Her arms wrapped around his shoulders, climbing into his lap as her lips desperately chased his.

Their kiss deepened, each movement filled with a longing for connection and solace. Juwon could feel Yoonah's pain through her touch, her breath hitching against his lips as if trying to expel the weight on her chest. 

As they finally pulled apart, Juwon gazed into Yoonah's eyes, seeing the unspoken words that lingered between them. With a tenderness that made Yoonah feel sick, Juwon whispered softly, "I love you, baby. I love you so much.”

Yoonah doesn’t want to hear it. Her eyes shut tightly as she shakes her head, trying to catch her breath before she slams their lips together again, hoping to shut him up. She can’t bear to hear his voice. All she wants to hear is his breathing and to feel him beneath her. Yoonah presses her chest against his, making him fall back with a soft groan. His hands are in her hair, on her waist, up her shirt, and tracing her spine with the tips of his fingers.

Yoonah pulls her shirt over her head, beginning to feel like she’s going into autopilot to reach that high. Juwon sighs blissfully at the sight of her skin, his rough hands sliding up her stomach before pulling her down by her waist they’re chest to chest. He kisses her neck, wet lips attaching to the sensitive skin and making her jaw drop in a silent moan, digging her nails into his hips.  Juwon's hands move down her back, pushing her hips against his as he deepens the kiss. Yoonah's body arches, pushing herself further into him as her hands scramble to push his shirt up.

Juwon pulls the fabric over his head with ease, taking a deep breath as he takes her face in his hands again to pull her down to collide their lips once again. Yoonah lets out a moan into his mouth when their lips are locked once again, feeling her heartbeat begin to pound in her throat. Despite her rapid heart rate, her mind is falling into a vegetative state that makes her feel as if she’s about to fall asleep.

Yoonah drags her lips from his to brush across his jawline to his neck, hearing him take a sharp breath of air as her lips pressed against the skin. Juwon’s fingers dig into her hips, dipping them past the waistband of her shorts before pulling back to rest on her waist again.

“Yoonah,” He whispers but she doesn’t lift her head. She scatters kisses across his chest, eyes shut as her lips take in the feeling of his skin against them. He’s always been warm and soft. Juwon took such good care of himself, it’s something Yoonah loved about him. His hands move to the back of her head as her hands slide down to his hips to pull at his sweatpants.

“Baby, hold on,” Juwon clears his throat, guiding her to lift her head despite the fact she doesn’t want to look at him. Even as she lifts her head, she doesn’t open her eyes, feeling his hand on her cheek, pulling her skin gently with his palm as her hair cascades like a dark curtain to the side of her face. She feels him lean up to try and look in her eyes but her eyes stay shut.

“We don’t have to–”

“We have to,” Yoonah whispers, feeling his forehead bump hers but all she sees is the darkness behind her eyelids. “It’ll fix it. It’ll help.” She wishes she sounded stronger, more confident in that belief, but she sounds weak and desperate. 

“Baby,” Juwon sighs, pushing her hair back and out of her face. There’s a silence that Yoonah knows he’s using to try to figure out what to say to that. It makes Yoonah pull out of his loose grasp, finally opening her eyes with a sigh. “That’s not why we should have sex.” He says like she should know that because she does know that but it still feels like jab in the ribs.

“It’s the only way I can even think about being with you right now,” Yoonah tells him, looking at him for the first time in what feels like hours. Juwon looks hurt but doesn’t say anything, just stares at her with brown eyes that Yoonah doesn’t know if she loves or hates. “I love you,” Yoonah says through a tight throat, wrapping her arms around her exposed torso as her eyes get hot. She sniffs as she grabs his shirt to cover herself, shaking her head as an overwhelming sadness fills her entire being, making it impossible to keep it together.

“But I feel like I’m dying. I don’t know. I-I-I don’t know what to do,” Yoonah admits as fat tears fall from her eyes and onto his chest, causing her to climb off his hips and onto their bed. She wipes her eyes with the back of her hand, looking at him for only a second before down at the sheets.

“We’re–You knew. You know. You know, Juwon. You’re–You’re supposed to be the only one who doesn’t hurt me and–and you hurt me–” Her voice cracks, and it makes her stop talking, shaking her head and letting herself lay down. This is too embarrassing. Yoonah can’t keep this going. There’s nothing left for her to say, nothing she can get out coherently, anyway. She feels she’s cried enough for today, spilled enough of her guts for the entire year. All she wants now is silence.

All she wants is peace.

#╰ * VENUS : scenarios ⧽ burn it to the ground . #ficnetfairy #fictional idol group #fictional idol community #kpop fanfic #idol oc #kpop oc #fake kpop oc #kpop au #idol au #kpop addition #idolverse #oc girl group #bts addition #fake kpop girl group #fake kpop idol #oc kpop group #stray kids addition

[blooming-violets]

Shit I forgot to put this in my rb but I wanted to ask what do you think would happen to reader if Peter actually went through with it? I'd like to be a but optimistic and say she surely but slowly recovers from it all but I'm not so sure. How would Aunt May react to that? Becoming a widow then a grieving mother in the span of a few years? Sorry I don't mean to be pushy but like I said I loved the way you beautifully crafted this story from an ask

Trigger Warnings!!!!: it's all about suicide and talking about it and discussing it, it is not something everyone feels comfortable reading or conversing about so please don't continue if it is too upsetting for you, Peter Parker kills himself and I write about it, Gwen's death ptsd is explored and he sees her as a rotting corpse version of herself who talks to him before he dies, the grief of losing someone you love to suicide is also talked about, it's all depressing but if you love depressing angst shit then come on over and join in (not join in on the killing yourself part jfc I mean joining in on the talking about this story) READ AT YOUR OWN DISCRETION only you know what you are capable of handling when you read. I can't help you any further than explaining the warnings.

Previous posts where this is all discussed:

[first part] [second part] and I rewrite this drabble from two years ago to fit this story but you can read the original here if you feel like it (it ends with less death that this one).

One of my darker, more angsty headcanons is that Peter kills himself by throwing himself off the same clock tower Gwen died in. It takes a few years for it to get rebuilt back to it's former glory. Peter patiently waits those years until it's finally finished. Almost a quiet, stoic sort of patience. A little scary with how composed he is. Like not given any indication of his plans. He wears a beautifully composed mask until the day it happens because he is so sure in his plans and doesn't want a single person to sway him from them. He's stubborn and set in his ways and this is what he feels he needs to do. This headcanon doesn't exactly fit into the story I wrote as that version of Peter is much more unhinged in his actions, and I don't think clocktower Peter could ever let himself get into a relationship because he's too obsessed with Gwen still and knows he's going to die so he's not going to bring anyone else into that mess, but it's just a little random headcanon I always had so I thought I would share since this is suicide talking hour. Maybe I can rework it a bit to fit with this story better.

Let's say unhinged Peter (as I'm calling him now lol) does let the ghosts win. What happens to our Reader character would entirely depend on when in the relationship he went through with it. If she's too far gone and too far down the hole after Peter, then I sort of fear for her future. Unless she has someone really important in her life who would help her, I think she would just keep sinking until she ended up back on that ledge, except this time there's no Peter to catch her. And I personally don't think she has anyone that close to her, especially after mentioning that all her friends stopped texting her or asking her to hang out. They all kind of gave up on her so, when she's at her lowest, I really don't think anyone would be the wiser due to the isolation they both put themselves in.

I want to rewrite something I wrote two years ago that either wasn't that great and people didn't like or it just slipped under the radar (because it wasn't about an x reader or love or anything, it was just Peter's ptsd taking over and sometimes people don't give a shit about a fic if it isn't tagged with x reader). It fits really well in this new story to help show what could go on in Peter's head with how terribly Gwen still sticks with him and what exactly it is he's "seeing" that would push him to throwing himself off a building.

Cut to me pausing to frantically google if Peter Parker could survive a fall off a building or if his super powers make him strong enough to withstand it...

Okay maybe falling isn't the best plan of action but I really like (like isn't the right word but I'm going with it) that idea of him mimicking Gwen's death because he's so haunted by it. He would want to feel what she felt. He would want to go the same way. So for the sake of this story, he's can't withstand that fall.

“Leave me alone!” Peter shouted into the dark shadows of the clock tower. He sat huddled against the newly built glass wall that domed up over his head. The bright, white light of the moon hung in the sky above him and casted wavering shadows around him to mess with his vision. The turning of grinding gears below him haunted his memories of the night Gwen died. Eight years and she still haunted him every time he dared to fall asleep.

He couldn't take it anymore. His head was a mess. His thoughts were spinning.

He was just so tired.

He had fallen asleep here accidentally. Maybe if he went to the source of the problem, she would disappear. It was a stupid plan

It only made her stronger. This was where his ghost of her was most alive.

Maybe that's why he really showed up. He wanted to see her. He wanted to finally confront his demons. She was calling to him and he had to answer.

He had slipped a crushed up sleeping pill into his girlfriends water during dinner. He carried her bed, tucked her in, and kissed her soft and gently. She didn't need to see this. This wasn't for her. She needed to be free of him. He needed to let her go before it was too late. She wouldn't understand at first but, maybe, with time...

What had time ever done for him except make Gwen stronger?

He slipped an envelope onto the bedside table beside her. One for her. One for May. He wasn't sure if he would make it home this time. His mind could still change. He could still make it back before she woke up.

But they were.

Just in case.

He couldn't leave them with nothing.

She was here now. Ready to haunt him like usual. Ready to take over and ruin him. Night after night. Day after day. She was always there. Gwen never left. She walked beside him through it all.

Tonight, she was angry. Furious. This was where he had let her die. Of course, she would be the most powerful here.

He no longer had his girlfriend to help soften Gwen's blows. There was no one to intervene. Only him and Gwen. Stuck in a staring contest. Sizing each other up.

The sunken in face of his dead lover glared back at him from just below his edge of his of his perch, trembling from the sight under him. She was standing on top of a giant gear, watching him, judging him. A large smile grew across her pale, bluing lips. It was too wide. Too big for her face. Her teeth looked rotten and jagged inside of her mouth. A trickle of blood slowly trailed out of her nostril.

“What’s the matter, Peter?” She taunted. Her sickly voice swirled around his head like a swarm of mosquitos. “Did you miss me? Is that why you came here? To see me clearly again? Well, here I am. Look at me. Dead. Putrefied. All for you. Aren't I beautiful? This is what you've done to me.”

A loud sob shuddered through his chest and ripped out his throat. He brought up a hand to wipe away the snot flowing freely out his nose. This nightmare was too familiar. He knew this too well. He didn't feel like he was dreaming this time. He never did.

If it wasn't a dream then his mind was truly gone. Distinguishing between reality and fiction was something he no longer had control over.

This was as real to him as anything.

“Please, Gwen. Please,” he pleaded with her. “Go away. I can’t do this again. Please. You have to let me go."

She tutted her tongue in annoyance and shook her head with disbelief, “Oh, Peter. I have to let you go? Do you think I want to be here?” She became climbing up the gears and the scaffolding towards him. She looked more like himself as she climbed, enhanced and spider-like, taking the movements straight out his brain until she was perching on the ledge beside him. “Do you think this fun for me?”

Peter whimpered in response. His tears were blurring his vision but he was afraid to wipe them away. He was terrified of what might happen if he took his eyes off of her, like watching a snake in the grass, it's better if you can see it in your sights instead of letting it hide and able to strike.

Gwen walked with slow, purposeful steps towards him until she stood directly over him as he cowered backwards on all fours. Under the pale moonlight hanging above them, her skin turned yellow, painted with purpling hues and blacks, and rotting away around her cheekbones to show parts of red, bleeding muscle under the pulled back skin. Her, once vibrant, blonde hair now hung in patchy strands from her head. Most of her hair had fallen out leaving her balding and sickly. When she smiled, browning, broken teeth shone back at him, they hung lose in her jaw, rattling around when she spoke.

She was a walking, decaying corpse sent to haunt him every time he closed his eyes.

“Look at what you’ve done to me!” Her shrill voice echoed off the glass walls. She spun around to show him the back of her head. Her skull was caved in. Parts of brain matter clung to her hair and blood stained what was left of the blonde a deep red. She turned back to face him, leaning in close so she was mere inches away. He could smell the heavy scent of freshly dug dirt and wet grass clinging to her rotting finger nails like she had clawed her way straight out of the ground to find him.

She snarled, “You did this, Peter! This is your fault!”

Peter flinched and scrambled backwards to get away from her, “No! Please, I’m so sorry. I’m sorry. I didn't know...I didn't know...I thought I could catch you. I thought I could save you. I'm sorry. Please, Gwen. Please. I'm so sorry.”

“Sorry doesn’t change the fact that I’m dead,” she smirked, eyes darkening, enjoying his torment. She sunk down to her hands and knees to crawl over him, pressing her skeletal body against him, until he was laying flat against the ground with no where else to go.

"Look at me," she whispered into his ear. “I was going to go Oxford. I was going to be a scientist. I was going to change the world. The only way I can change the world now is by letting the worms feast through my flesh until there is nothing left. Something tasty for the bugs. That's all I am now.”

Peter whimpered, turning his head away from her and flinching into himself.

He heard her sniffle like she was about to start crying. He hated hearing her cry.

"Don't you love me anymore, Peter?" She whined. "Don't you care about me? Why did you find someone else? Why did you forget me so quickly? I loved you so much and you left me for the worms. Only they kiss my skin now."

His heart sank and guilt flooded him. Slowly, he turned his head to face her, blinking up at her. For a moment, she looked just like he remembered. Beautiful. Whole. Healthy. Alive.

Peter gave a shuddered, shaky breath, whispering in awe, "Gwen."

She beamed down at him. There were no rotting teeth, no blood, her hair was full and luscious. She was glowing under golden light with happy tears in her eyes like his memory of her on top of the Brooklyn Bridge.

"Kiss me," she whispered against his lips. "Like you used to."

Peter's eyes slipped close. His heart ached.

"I can't," he mumbled back. "I love someone else now. I love her like I loved you. She..."

He needed to get back to her. She needed him. He needed her. He should have never left her tonight. He had to leave.

A wailing growl shot ice through his veins as Gwen let out a shriek of pain as if she had read his mind. She was back to her decaying corpse. The sight terrified him.

"You will not leave me! I won't let you! You're mine, Peter! Mine!"

Peter kicked up his feet to shove her off of him. He scrambled backwards away from the haunting vision.

"I can't, Gwen," he pleaded. "I can't be with you anymore."

He frantically shook his head, squeezing his eyes shut, in an attempt to make her disappear. Usually by now, his girlfriend would hear him screaming. She'd be here to block Gwen from his sights. She'd be there to force her away until he was safe.

Tonight, there was no one but him.

"This isn't real," he muttered to himself. "She's not really here. She's dead. She's buried underground. Locked in a coffin. This isn't real. When I open my eyes, she'll be gone."

He peaked an eye open. A sense of relief washed over him. He was alone in the clock tower. There was no one here but him.

He could still go home. He could still make it back to her before she woke up and rid her bed side of those letters.

She would never have to know.

Peter took a deep breath, half way through exhaling it when he felt a tap on his shoulder.

Gwen's decomposing face poked into his peripheral vision as she whispered menacingly in his ear, "Boo."

He screamed, jumping away, to the sound of her taunting laughter.

"I'm still here, Peter!" She cackled. "You can't get rid of me that easily! I am always going to be here. I am always going to follow you. I will never let you go." Her voice softened. Almost sweet. Sad. Longing. "Because I'm your path, Peter. I am always going to be your path. Follow me everywhere just like you promised. I want you to follow me. I need you..."

She reached out her hand for him to take. The skin had rotted away around the tips of her fingers leaving nothing by bones reaching for him.

This wasn't his Gwen. His Gwen was dead. She was buried in the ground surrounded by fresh flowers. The thing in front of him was nothing but a product of his own twisted mind. Birthed from his guilt and excruciating pain. A monster of his own creation.

"I can't," he choked out through his tears. "Someone else needs me now. I'm sorry. I love you. I will always love you. But I can't follow you. Not yet."

Anger flashed over her darkened, bloodshot eyes, “No! You promised you’d follow me anywhere. Follow me to the grave, you liar!”

Peter cringed at her harsh words. Tears blurring his vision. He had promised.

"Gwen, please," he begged. "Let me go."

Her face softened. He watched her grow back into old self again. Her rich purple dress. Lace tights. Knee high boots. Pale blue jacket. All highlighting her perfectly beautiful face. Large, bright green eyes without a blonde hair out of place. Always so put together. Always nothing less than perfection.

"You want me to go?" She asked, turning around slowly for her to take him in. There was no crack in the back of her skull. No blood.

His breath caught in his throat. He tried to reach out for her, to draw her closer against him, but she stepped away. Just out of his reach.

"You want me to go so I'll go." She whispered. "But you'll have to watch. Again and again and again. You'll have to listen to the sound of my skull cracking against the pavement. Hear my spine snap as your web jerks me upwards. Smell my blood pouring from my open, split open head." A trickle of red blood started to leak out her nose as her eyes closed. "Only you can make it all stop. Only you can make me go away. You know exactly how to do it, Peter. All you have to do is follow me. Just like you promised. Follow me and it will all end."

He blinked through his tears, taking a slow step towards her.

"Follow you," he muttered in a trance like state. "I'll follow you anywhere you go. You're my path. I'll write my love for you across the Brooklyn Bridge so everyone in New York can see it."

She smiled, soft and sweet, "Follow me. Don't leave me alone. Stay with me, Peter. Forever."

"Forever..."

Her arms out stretched to her sides and she leaned back, stepping off the ledge and sinking out of sight past the giant gears, hurdling straight towards her death.

"No!" He shouted.

Without thinking, without caring, Peter leapt after her. He had done this move so many times in his nightmares. He had obsessively walked through every single second of her death. Again and again just like she said. He knew it better than he knew himself.

He jumped on instinct. He leapt after her like he always did.

Keeping his promise. Following her down any path she took.

I know you asked how May and Reader would respond to such a thing afterwards but that's like one topic that's just a little too hard for me to write about. I know it's weird that I can talk about Peter throwing himself to his death and I can write about depression and suicidal ideation and self harm and ptsd and guilt and feelings of worthlessness but writing about someone like May (who I relate far too much to my own mother) finding her boy dead is just a hair too much for my heart to take haha. I was originally going to write a scene of his funeral but then I was like nah too much for even me. I can't watch May cry over her dead kid.

I will say that he would be buried next to his parents under the same gravestone which sits besides Ben's. It's a few rows down from Gwen so Peter can always be near her.

I don't even think I actually answered your original ask but I got carried away with Peter in the clock tower!

Also May puts matching flowers on both Peter's and Gwen's graves every time she visits. hahahaha i gotta stop writing fuck me

#andrew garfield #tasm #peter parker #tasm peter #tasm peter parker #tasm x reader #peter parker x reader #tasm peter x reader #tasm peter parker x reader #tasm fic #peter parker fic #tasm angst #peter parker angst

[deluweil]

I know it's been a while, but with the new 911 season coming up ( I will not be watching,probably check in every now and again) I wanted to share my own self check of how I view relationships on tv.

After S6 finale, I was like lost and furious, I mean, I wanted and still do want the last 6 years of my life back from 911. (Well three because they didn't always suck).

But I went back to watching normal TV, you know, the kind that portray relationships and are being clear of the direction.

I watched Good Omens, so rooting for that pair, they are the best! And with that cast of unbelievably talented actors, I enjoyed every minute of it. Point is I didn't allow myself to see that friendship as a ship because of how damaged my perception of on screen relationships became after 911 displaying all the right signals, then taking a hard left into a tree at the end of the seasons.

I am not even going to to touch the First Prince of RW&RB, which is essentially a buddie storyline that was followed through to its logical conclusion.

I also thought, maybe I just can't enjoy straight on screen relationships anymore and I'm looking for more.

My sister sat me to watch Bridgerton for the very first time (just S1 for now) I can say with absolute certainty that it dis-abused me of that theory as well, because I rooted and got excited for Daphne and Simon at first sight.

Such a wonderful love story told right!

These are the two prominent tv shows that cemented my belief that it is in fact not on me.

Going back in my head I remember rooting for Catherine and Steve, and almost every one of Danny's gfs (except Rachel, it was clear she'd break his heart again.) In H50.

I wanted Gibson to end up with Andy in Station 19. Never wanted her to end up with Maya or him with Miller.

And even though it didn't need to be said, but was said in a humorous fashion, the writers also made clear that Gibson prefer women.

So it is in fact the flawed 911 writing that got me to give up on all forms of logic of reading tv relationships right.

That I gave up on tv for a while.

But, that being said, I can say I was always attracted to Ryan, but Eddie always got my gaydar to go off. And Oliver is not my type, but Buck is a hot bi firefighter - and that is a thing I already thought in S1, way before Eddie arrived.

So either the writers has no clue what they're doing, or they did and chickened out last minute.

And I finally reached the point where, I throw in the towel, wish you all well and move on.

It is not just about buddie, it is just a buddie post.

If anyone is interested, I can make a whole post involving the "development" of the rest of the og characters, where I say enough is enough.

Either make them interesting again, or bring in new blood that hasn't been first a piece of ass to further Buck's questionable development.

Let me know if you are interested.

The blinders are off and I am not keeping quiet for the sake of followers anymore.

9-1-1 was a great show, 3 seasons ago. They had sparks every now and again in between, but those were few and always demolished in some way by horrible writing choices.

Thank you for a great time, this fandom has been a place to come to whenever I needed to escape reality, I love you all. ❤️

#buddie #eddie diaz #evan buckley #for the last time #Damaged storytelling #No it's not us #Good luck on abc

[georgegraphys]

To be honest, I would not fully trust Ola Kallenius either despite his words backing George. Why? Because he's a part of this big multinational corporation and this multinational corporation is FAR from the word 'good'.

But what we're talking about is taking advantage of George being favorable in their eyes for now. Read that 'for now' again. To manipulate the long terms, you need to take advantage of what is happening in short terms first. You can't be thinking too far ahead, overthinking and speculating about things, and making rash decisions over some speculations. That'd be a self-fulfilling prophecy. You can't play the short game when you're in a position like George. You have to play the long game.

If I were to be REAL honest here, I do want George to take Red Bull's offer back in 2021 because they're great, they're fast, they're amazing. But looking at the other aspects here, you wouldn't want him to be there. You should stop seeing things from just a two dimensional perspective. Moving teams solves nothing and i think we learnt enough from several drivers who made the wrong choice due to greed and being impatient.

In every part of an organization, there is something called homeowners. Just like Max's home is RB and Charles' home (might be) is Ferrari, George's home is Mercedes. And that is a solid thing for 2-3 upcoming years unless something happened. Why do i say so? Because these teams aren't the backmarkers where everyone is replaceable, they are the frontrunners with big brands behind them that not only values winning and racing but also values loyalty, brand image, and more. What they're also trying to find is someone who could be the face of the team for a long time not just 2-3 seasons and dip.

And let's take things real here. If Mercedes did NOT value George, they wouldn't pressure him to make a decision between choosing BMW or Mercedes very early in his formula series career. Why is it important? Because if George is not important to them, the moment George rejects Toto for Carlin Volkswagen is the moment they back out and move on. But they didn't. That is exhibit one.

Exhibit two is that in 2018, Mercedes is torn on who to give an F1 seat. Ocon or Russell? We all know the answer in 2019. Exhibit three, in 2020 when George's 2021 seat is threatened with Williams, Red Bull allegedly offered Mercedes to 'lend' George out to them for a year but Mercedes REFUSED because they do not want George outside of their institution even for a year (even if that 'lend out' move benefits Mercedes because from there Mercedes can see how George performs in better car). They'd rather George go jobless and drive in DTM for a year rather than lending him out to Red Bull. If Mercedes does not care about him, they would let him leave just like they let Ocon leave to go to Alpine.

And fourth, we have Kallenius basically on Toto's neck about how he wants George on that seat and not Max or Valtteri or whoever Toto wants. Then we also have Mercedes literally going feral on the mention of George going somewhere else (read: RBR). This happened on the same day as the British GP

My point here is if they do not give a shit, if they do not at the very least back George up, they would have let George go in 2021. And if you're saying "but that's 2021, Ari. We're talking about now", then look at his previous contract renewal. We're supposed to have George's silly season THIS YEAR because his original contract with Merc is supposed to end this year but we DIDN'T! Why? Because the contract is already renewed somewhere in December 2022 or Spring 2023! Again if they're planning to replace him, they would not make him sign a contract just for several months to his Merc career. And to add on top of that, George literally talks about how his contract is so EASILY signed and Mercedes and him were giggling over it like a married couple while LH and Mercedes (read: Kallenius) were in trenches, fighting endless war for a contract negotiation.

We cannot be 100% sure on the long run on who backs who even with Max in Red Bull. There is NOTHING certain in F1. Things change drastically. This is a very dynamic sport. But to manipulate the longer term, you need to take a hold of shorter terms first. If Kallenius, for now, sees George in a favorable place, that's good. But if in the future, he doesn't then it is what it is. It's business. You can't be idealistic about it. Moving teams is NEVER the solution unless you want George to make a decision blunder like other drivers who weren't patient enough.

It is painful but we have to play the long game.

#ari's rants #ari's rambles