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shotmrmiller · 3 months

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I like to think that Simon has no game. He's large, he's unapproachable, his stare alone scares away the women. Which was totally fine, until one day, he saw you as Johnny's screensaver on his phone. He was entranced, mesmerized. He's seen more than enough beautiful women on the orange youtube (his hand being his only source of relief for years) but there was something different about you. Maybe it was the tender smile you had on your face, or maybe it was how you glowed with happiness.

Or your eyes. Your eyes twinkled with affection, you looked at the camera with love. Love. That's it.

He can't remember the last time someone aimed a fond look his way. And whenever he stares at your photo, it looks like you're lovingly gazing back at him— and it gets him fucking hard.

Johnny once left his phone behind, for whatever reason, and Simon waited a solid minute, (60) seconds, before he picked it up, and took out his own phone to take a picture of you.

Simon wanked himself raw that night, his thick cum splattering over his screen, over your face. His refractory period that night was nonexistent.

And when Johnny one day was on the phone with you? When Johnny said, "Simon's here too, hen. Say hello." The way your melodic voice said his name? His cock was achingly hard within seconds, and he shifted around uncomfortably, willing for it to disappear.

It didn't. Simon walked with a wide gait, legs stiff, straight to the nearest bathroom and took himself in his hand. He gripped his long, thick length tight, and when he closed his eyes, he squeezed even harder, almost painfully. His tip was an angry red, from how tight he held himself, and that's how snug he imagined your undoubtedly pretty pussy would be around him.

He had to clench his jaw— grit his teeth hard, to keep the pathetic whimpers from escaping. Simon leaked pre-cum like a juvenile, stringy like egg whites, all over his knuckles and he hadn't even started pumping yet.

When someone knocked on the door, the snarl he let out was feral, a "Fuck off" so nasty, no one disturbed him again until he came with his head tilted back, and the vision of you riding him behind his closed eyes.

And then in the comfort of his own quarters, he pulled up your picture again— a blurry, too zoomed-in photo of a photo, and rut into one of his pillows, again imagining it was you. He thought of you on your back, legs open invitingly and waiting for him to fill you. He imagined the delicious moans you'd breathe out in his ear, your nails digging into the expanse of his broad, scarred back. He imagined your walls fluttering around him, the tell-tale sign of your upcoming climax, and you'd squeeze him so bloody tight when you finally did come, he'd move to pull out because there's no way he's not finishing with you. But you, you'd wrap your legs around his waist, and cross your ankles— effectively keeping him inside of you.

He'd cum on the spot, because you were effectively giving him your permission to finish inside. You'd rhythmically clench your walls to milk him dry, to take all of his seed.

And when his warped, fucked mind imagined you whispering an 'I love you' on his lips, he actually came, and he whimpered.

Simon's hips stuttered as his cock twitched and spasmed, spurting thick globs of cum all over his pillow, his bed. His breath came in shaky pants, his heart slamming against his ribcage.

After he stopped shaking, and was able to move his limbs, he cleaned his mess up shamefully, the post-nut clarity hitting hard, and as he switched bedsheets, he saw his phone light up with a notification.

Bonnie just sent this picture. Doesn't she look cute?

It was you holding a cup of iced coffee, and what stood out to him the most was your brightly colored nails.

He touched himself to the thought of those manicured hands wrapped around his cock, as you took him in your mouth 10 minutes later.

this was my inspo for this simon

@pieckyghost i really only have porn on my mind :( pussy on my mind, tighter than a headband.

#call of duty #simon ghost riley #cod mw2 #simon ghost riley x reader #johnny soap mactavish #john soap mactavish #simon ghost riley smut #john soap mactavish x reader #simon riley x reader #simon riley x you #simon ghost smut #drabble

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moongreenlight · 6 months

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Have you ever seen that corny ass skit where it’s the girl talking to her husband asking him to fix things and he says “I’m not a plumber” “I’m not a carpenter” bla bla bla and then one day he comes home and the girl’s like “oh yeah I had the neighbor come over to fix the things you wouldn’t” and the neighbor says she can either bake him a cake or sleep with him as payment so the husband asks “so what kind of cake did you bake him?” And the girl says “I’m not a baker?”

Very much Neighbor!Price x stay-at-home-mom!reader coded :)

Mdni. Nsfw below cut.

Neighbor!Price who’s found a quiet little cul-de-sac to settle in when he’s got some time off. It’s a little neighborhood, mostly older people who’re thrilled to have a man like him around to help bring out bins and offer to mow their lawns or rake their leaves or shovel their drives when he’s around.

But somehow he’s found the only other younger family in the area living directly next to him. Parents are a few years his junior, and they’ve got two young kids. He assumes the boy, the older one, is early elementary age- sees you herding him into the car in the morning with a pack lunch and a backpack that’s nearly the same size as he is to and from the house in the morning and afternoon. And the girl, the younger, must be in pre-k, because she’s only out for half the day and doesn’t get the same pack lunch her brother gets.

He’s gotten to know you pretty well. When he’s around, the two of you will chat while you’re tending your garden and he’s working in his garage carrying out some odd project or another. He thinks you’re sweet. Likes the way you wear overalls with a little top when you’re planting flowers in the beds out front. How when you bend over or stand at the right angle he can imagine you’re not wearing a top at all.

He hates your husband. He’s crass and rude and never waves hello to any of the neighbors- odd for such a friendly little community. Leaves for work early and comes home late and leaves you to fend for yourself all day. Doesn’t know how to interact with you or your kids. And Price is almost certain he doesn’t fuck you the way you deserve to be fucked because his bedroom window looks over your living room and he’s caught you on the couch with your hand down your pants more times than could have been coincidence.

He’s known to be the neighborhood handyman. Got a little workshop set up in his garage and a general knowledge about nearly everything, so it’s not uncommon that he gets a knock on the door a few times a week. Usually it’s some of the older neighbors popping over to see if he can fix their TVs or help their grandkids connect to the Wi-Fi, but it’s a pleasant surprise when you turn up on his porch mid-morning.

You’re scrunching the ends of your soaking wet hair in a towel. Apologizing as soon as you hear him turn the deadbolt. Feverishly going on about how you must have blown a circuit in the bathroom trying to dry your hair and you’d usually be able to manage but your husband shoved a bookshelf in front of the breaker and you can’t get through to it.

He’s sweet about it. Always is, but especially for you. Follows you over to your place and promises you no less than ten times that it’s really no trouble. He’s happy to help. It’s a quick fix, but he drags it out as long as he can. Insists on following you up and down the stairs from the basement to the top floor twice to make sure everything’s working properly.

He notices that the bathroom door sticks and that the fire alarm in the hallway is chirping from a low battery. You apologize for the toys in the living room and the clean laundry pile on the couch and the state of your house. Say that your husband is racking up a hefty to-do list with a small laugh that’s just a bit too forced.

He’s thrilled to tell you that he’s got some free time later in the week and says he’ll come over if only to help out your husband. Makes some backhanded remark about how your husband is clearly a busy lad. You refuse- of course- sweet thing that you are, but he turns up the next day after you’ve taken your kids to school anyway.

He tails you up the drive so there’s no way you can shut him out. Shushes you when you try to apologize for one reason or another and takes off to fix not only the sticky bathroom door and the fire alarm batteries, but also the dripping kitchen faucet and the garbage disposal that’s been broken for months.

You try to stay clear of whatever room he’s working in, chirping short responses to whatever nonsense question he asked in an attempt to lure you over. It was only when he was about to head out and he saw you leaning on the dryer to keep it shut that he saw his golden opportunity.

You were clearly trying to hide it, but even with a small load of clothes in, it sounded like you’d thrown a pair of boots into a tin garbage pail and shook it hard as you could. You tried to shoo him off, but he wasn’t having any of it.

There’s enough skirting around the subject to give you chance to turn down his advances, but when he realizes you’re not outright telling him to go fuck himself, he’s essentially taking it as a challenge to see if he can’t push you to that point.

Hoists you up on the still clanging machine and pushes between your legs on the weak pretense of needing you there to keep the door shut while he works. The machine shook the straps of your top down off your shoulders and made him acutely aware of the fact that you hadn’t had the time to put on a bra yet. It made his pants near painfully tight on the crotch.

He’d try and make idle chat. Your kids and plans for the day, but it’s entirely too hard for him to focus on anything other than the way your thighs are pressing together as the dry cycle started to bang the machine around more. He makes a light comment about how he’s not sure how you get anything done around the house with the dryer in this state. Your laugh is breathy.

And when he leans over you to reach to the back of the machine, he can feel the way your soft panting breaths fan his neck. Confirms his suspicions.

“Alright?”

You’re chewing the inside of your lip while you nod. Clearly starved for stimulation if all it takes is a dry cycle to get you off. Poor thing.

It’s stuffy in the laundry room. Adds to the appeal. Makes your shorts ride up and stick to your legs. Your thighs are dewy and glide together when you shift under his gaze.

“You sure, doll?”

The two of you are almost nose-to-nose. You’re leaned back, caged in by his big arms that look even bigger in his almost obscenely tight shirt. He’s smiling. Letting his eyes wander to your collarbones. The way your throat bobbed when you swallowed.

Before you could choke out your answer, the dryer stopped. Chimed the alert and slowly stilled. You took a shaky breath and nodded once more, looking like you couldn’t decide whether to be disappointed or relieved. He backed off, stretched out his hand to help you down.

You lead him to the kitchen. Ask if you can get him anything. Tea or food. He declines. You say something about stopping to get cash when you’re out picking up your daughter in a couple hours. He declines again.

“John, really, I appreciate your help. You have to let me get you back.”

You’re filling the kettle with water anyway, leaned just slightly over the sink. He knows it’s impolite to stare, but he’s never had very good manners when it came to things like that.

“Bake me a cake or somethin’, then. Sleep with me. Won’t take your money, though.”

You whirl around and end up sloshing some water down your front. Doesn’t seem to phase you. Your eyebrows are damn near at your hairline.

“I don’t know if that’s appropriate, considering…”

He snorts a soft laugh. It’s kind- not at all suggestive. Like he’s playing off a clever joke.

“What? Baking me a cake?”

You purse your lips and set the kettle on the stove.

“Never been a very good baker.”

He about hurdles the kitchen island like he’s running track.

“That right?”

You make a thoughtful sound before clicking on the burner. He can see you biting back a smile. You finally turn to face him. Leaned back on your hands with your head cocked slightly to the side.

“I just don’t know that it would be appropriate given our- my- situation.”

It’s his turn to hum and nod. Take a few steps forward, slow and slinky like a predator stalking toward its prey.

“Sure.”

You chew your bottom lip. Try to find some resolve in fussing with your wedding ring. It’s horrible. Small. He can’t help but think about how he’d be able to get you a much better one. He takes a few more steps forward.

“It’s complicated, John.”

Your voice is mousy now.

“I know.”

A few more steps forward and he’s back nose-to-nose with you. Pinning you against the counter.

“I just-“

“Then tell me to go home.”

The button of his jeans grazes your groin and sends sparks up your spine. You recoil slightly, but he’s got his massive hands on your wrists to keep you in place.

“My husb-“

“Don’t. S’not what I said. Tell me to go home. Tell me to go home, and I’ll leave. S’easy as that.”

The coarse hair of his beard brushes along your jaw. Visible goosebumps rise all the way up your neck and down your arms.

“John, he-“

A throaty growl from him.

“He’s not getting a lick of you.”

And then somehow he’s got you on your back on the couch. Shoved off the pile of laundry and pushed you down. His eyes are near pitch black and hungry. Ravenous. He tears off your shorts. Doesn’t wait for you to hoist your hips, just yanks so hard that you’re a little worried you’ll get thrown off the couch with them.

He is wretched. Planting wet kisses from the inside of your knee all the way up to your sex frustratingly slow. Big hands splayed over your hips to keep you from bucking up into his mouth. He’s got this maddeningly smug smile on his face like he’s waiting for the perfect moment to say I told you so. Like he knew this was going to happen from the start, you were just too stupid to see.

Your underwear is embarrassingly wet from your little go on the dryer. Your pussy puffy and sensitive underneath. You whine when he kisses over the damp spot. Laves his tongue over your folds without pulling them to the side. He makes some comment about the state of you that borders on snarky, but you choose to ignore it.

When he finally does rid you of your panties, there’s a moment of clarity where you realize what you’re doing. You push up on your elbows and try to roll out from under him, but he gives your clit a mean slap that forces you back onto the couch and ends your protest. Sends you to that liminal, clouded headspace where all you can focus on is how desperately you need to come.

It’s clear he’s savoring the moment. Running the point of his tongue through your folds. Teasing at your hole. Artfully swirling around your clit, but never close enough to give you the friction you’re so desperately craving. Planting hot, wet kisses on your inner thighs. Leaves a few love bites in his wake like he’s boasting; so certain your husband wouldn’t get close enough to notice that he had no problem decorating you as he pleased.

You’re a mess. Being taken apart stitch by stitch. Panting and whining and begging for more. Your orgasm is coiling tight under your belly without him having to do much. Any other time you’d have felt a little pathetic, but you were too preoccupied to care now.

He finally brings his hands up and you think he’s about to stuff you full, but he only lets his fingers drag slowly along your sensitive sex. Collects some of your arousal and pulls it up toward your naval. Watches the goosebumps form under his touch.

He rucks your shirt up with his free hand and immediately wraps his lips around your pebbled nipples. Tongues at them. Lets his teeth graze teasingly over them. And whatever one he’s not got currently in his mouth, he’s working his fingers over. Pinching and flicking until you’re teary eyed and squirming under him.

And then finally, fucking finally, he ducks back down and fixes his mouth on your clit. Sucks gently on the swollen bud for just a moment and then companies his mouth with two fingers bullying their way inside you.

The stretch is almost uncomfortable in its suddenness, but you quickly get used to it. The pleasure is blinding. Forces you to throw your head back against the cushion and screw your eyes tightly shut. A string of high, needy moans float through your gaped lips.

He’s sweet, Jesus, is he. Hums and groans with his mouth still on your bundle of nerves. Pulls away just enough to tell you how pretty your pussy is taking him before going back to work on your sensitive clit. You want to scream. You think you may actually come entirely undone on this couch if he doesn’t stop.

And then your orgasm coils so tightly within you that it explodes outward. Tears through you and leaves every square inch of your skin sizzling. He doesn’t let up. Pins you down by the stomach with his forearm and continues down his warpath. The sounds his fingers make when they sink into you are so pornographic that it makes your face hot.

You eventually find it in you to warble out something that sounded like please, too much. And he pulled off, still with that smug grin pulling his lips now surrounded by glistening slick caught in the hair of his beard.

He gives you one last kiss. Lewd and wet and so searing hot you’re worried it will actually blister the sensitive flesh of your cunt. He’ll sit back on his haunches and fuss with the button and zipper of his jeans before saying something horrible and cheeky like

“C’mon, doll. Thought you were set on payin’ me back.”

#he sees a family with a present but shitty father and says ‘it’s free real estate’ I hate him #moongreenlight #moongreenlightwrites #cod mw2 #call of duty #cod x reader #141 headcanons #captain price smut #captain john price smut #captain john price x reader #captain john price #captain price #price cod #john price #cod price #141 x reader #x reader

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gh0stsp1d3r · 11 months

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Maybe a Hobie x reader where Miguel and the reader have a close relationship (like Miguel see the reader as his daughter) And Hobie and reader are dating and nobody know. But then Miguel figured out in some way.

Hope it’s okay !!

I love thisss

Miguel is readers actual father cuz I don’t see him getting rlly close w someone like a daughter unless it’s his actual daughter, you can be adopted or biological

𝐓𝐞𝐞𝐧𝐚𝐠𝐞𝐫𝐬...

You laughed as hobie practically dragged you to his room.

He let go of your hand when he got in his room “Hello, sweetheart.” He said, picking up his guitar as you sat down on his bed. He plugged in his amp, and fixed some settings.

“Oh so you love your guitar more than me now?” You said, feigning offense.

“That’s not very fair, innit? Can’t love you both equally now?”

You laughed and rolled your eyes as he smiled and started strumming his guitar. He tuned it and then he started playing.

You smiled at how excited he got when he played, he had a huge grin on his face, he glanced at you sometimes too, even singing to you.

After an hour of that, you both laid down in the bed, talking and just looking at each other.

“It’s late, we should probably get you back to HQ, yeah?”

“Yeah. You’re right.” You mumbled, you both stood up, and you gave him one last kiss before leaving through the portal you opened

Miguel was waiting in your room, you screamed for a second and he just stood there.

“Jesus Christ! Dad!”

“Care to explain?” He said, holding up a photo booth picture of you and Hobie. You both laughed, hobie flashed the middle finger, and in the last one kissed.

“Why are you snooping in my room?!” You grabbed the photo.

“Well I came to clean it, then I saw that, and then I saw that!” He pointed to the jacket that was hung in your closet, a jacket that was obviously his.

“Dad…”

“Are you and hobie dating?” He asked, feeling like he knew the answer.

“Yea.”

“How long?”

“… like a … few months.”

“How much is a few?”

“Like… 5.”

“5 months?!”

“5 months.”

He sighed and rubbed his temple “Hobie- out of everyone- Hobie? The biggest pain in my ass?”

“Yea.. yeah. Sorry I didn’t tell you..”

He sighed again. “It’s just kissing.. right?”

“Dad!”

“Oh my god are you guys-!”

“No! Dad!” You covered your face, embarrassed.

“Good. I’ll beat his ass.” He mumbled.

“Goodnight dad.” You said as he left.

“Goodnight… you leave the door open.”

“Why?!”

“Because.” He narrowed his eyes.

You groaned “Fine.”

He left the hallway, and Hobie opened a portal at the right time.

“Just thought I’d stay here for tonight. That cool?” He said, hands in his jacket pockets.

You jumped, startled.

“Shhshshsh.” You said, covering his mouth.

“I swear to god, if that’s who I think it is!” Miguel yelled.

You winced and told him to go in the closet as your dads footsteps boomed down the hall.

He looked around, saw you on the bed.

“Hey… dad. What’s up?”

“Hey Miguel.” Hobie said from the closet. You groaned.

“Can he stay dad please?”

“Ay dios mío. Just keep the door open.” He grumbled, staring at hobie as he left.

“Teenagers…”

#hobie brown x reader #hobie brown #miguel o’hara #dad! miguel O’Hara #teenagers hobie brown series

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evilminji · 3 months

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*Gasp of joy* Brain, you shouldn't have!

You know how the Wayne's have basicly been the ONLY Good And Uncorrupt Wealthy Family in Gotham? And probably fuckin curse resistant AF because otherwise, HOW!? (No, seriously, the local magical population is baffled but impressed!)

....you....you wanna bet at least a few of those suckers died thinking "but I haven't completed my orphan hospital for sickly waifish puppy's and sad eyed children, yet! I... must... save... THE CHILDREN! *le dies (×.× ) * " to the tune of their beautiful (and somehow bizarrely benevolent and well adjusted) families weeping at their bedsides.

Whoop! There's a ghost! Hello, Mr. Wayne.

(Why does this Keep Happening? Please have LESS unfinished bussiness. You're supposed to be rich. Stop trying to help people ON YOUR DEATH BEDS! FFS.)

I say all this? Beeeecause~?

( >.>)(<.< )

Allright! Time to come clean, folks! Which side of the family lead to our descendant dressing up in a Kevlar BAT SUIT!!? Throwing himself off buildings in the middle of the night. Cavorting around with Amazons!

We aren't even mad about the last one! We're actually deeply and respectfully impressed! But who pulled THAT off? Angela? That yours? (*shrug* I mean... probably? It DOES seem like something my daughter would do...)

So like?

Imagine Danny~.

Trying to eat his generic brand cereal. IN HIS Underwear. When? All these Fancy Ghosts show up to his A College Kid's, Baby's First, Crap Apartment(TM). He's eating on a pillow on the floor for God's sake. It's too early for this! C'mon guys...

But, no.

They want permission to go Haunt their Descendant.

Danny sighs. He can already FEEL his cereal going soggy. This is gonna take a while, ain't it? Okay... okay, WHO is you offspring, what did they do, and for how long? You know the rules, guys.

Then they hit him with the oh so casual "BTW he's Fuckin Batman".

YOU WANT TO WHAT!?

(They convince him. How? He couldn't tell you. It's... is? Is this what It's like meeting a Fenton? For other people? Huh. He always thought people were exaggerating...)

Which? Is how a dead Victorian Old Man has arrived to ABSOLUTELY tear this Trouble Making Youngster a new one, in front of his little friends! Just full on full names him. Oh, OH! The broken BONES! The BRUISES! Have you no regard for your poor ancestors health! Their fragile hearts! Trying to put us in the grave AGAIN, are you?! Why in MY DAY-!!!

(Nightwing? Recording this for Alfred. It's gonna be an early birthday present~)

@hypewinter @hdgnj @the-witchhunter @ailithnight @mutable-manifestation @nerdpoe

#dpxdc #dp x dc #useful #dc x dp #dcxdp #dc x dp prompt #danny phantom #minji's writing

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uglyducklingofthe2000s · 2 months

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Glitter Bug - Max Verstappen

Summary: Media and fans begin to notice that Max seems to always have a dusting on glitter on him recently. But where is it coming from?

Also for context, this is not based around any real race events of this season or previous season. I'm just making stuff up for excitement.

No part 2 requests please

"Oh Max, you got a bit of-you've got a dusting of glitter on you." The interviewer comments as he walks into the media pen after qualifying.

"Must be from the fan celebrations." Max dismisses seeming to think nothing of it before he speaks up again. "I think I walked through a cloud of glitter from some little fans."

Lies but for now he thinks it'll work as a cover for now.

"You looked great out there, good pace. How did it feel?"

"Good, unexpectedly good. But I'll make the most of it tomorrow and see what results we can get." Max states earning a small nod from the journalist.

He goes through a few questions before heading into the unit to change into something else to get back to the hotel.

"You have glitter on your face." GP comments as Max walks in. "Was that there before?"

"No. Y/n caught me before I got to media." Max states trying not to smile since while he isn't exactly eager to be covered in glitter, the fact it's from his girlfriend means it isn't something he's so bothered about.

"How nice of her." GP laughs before Max disappears into his drivers room where y/n is looking down at her phone, just waiting for her boyfriend.

"Hello, baby." Max smiles moving towards her knowing that one kiss is about to have a new coating of glitter all over his face again. "You glitter is spreading around. A journalist pointed it out in the media pen."

"Oh...I'm sorry, I didn't realise it was so-"

"Don't be sorry, it doesn't bother me. Although, I think I may need to work on explaining why there's glitter on my face."

Y/n is admittedly a bit of a glitter bomb, she uses it as make up and in place of where someone might put fake freckles on their cheeks and nose she dusts glitter. Max has never really thought of asking why, but he would definitely never ask her to change. And on the few occasions in the day time he's seen her without glitter she almost seems incomplete.

Inevitably it means Max gets a cost of glitter whenever he kisses her.

“I think you look nice with glitter.” Y/n smiles lightly earning a smile from Max before he leans down and kisses her.

Their relationship isn’t necessarily something Max is going out his way to keep completely secret but he also doesn’t feel like broadcasting it and sharing it with the world is the right thing to do right now. If only to protect her from the scrutiny he knows she’ll be forced to endure.

A few other drivers he’s closer to and people within the team know about her. He suspects some of the media have noticed her and probably have their theories. But there’s been nothing officially confirmed.

“I think you look beautiful with glitter. You wouldn’t be the same without it.” Max states then moving to get changed.

Being back at the hotel, y/n does her usual routine of trying to remove the glitter from her skin. Which Max has to admit, he doesn’t think works in 100% effectiveness.

Though she seems to manage to do a better job with Max in helping him wash his face to get the second-hand glitter from his own skin.

“All clean?” He questions moving up behind her at the sink as she uses a hand towel to pat her face dry from the double cleansing. “Clean but not quite glitter free.”

“I don’t know if I ever want to be completely gli.ter free.” Y/n shrugs smiling at him in their reflection, leaning back on him slightly as she feels his arm hug her and his hand press flat on her tummy just to hold her closer. “Not enough glitter that I’ll be passing it onto you though.”

“Ready for bed?” Max hums knowing she has many more steps in his skincare routine so it’s not a question really worth asking.

“Just a few more things. You can go ahead, I’ll catch up.” Y/n murmurs while seeming to grab one of the little bottles.

If Max tried to guess what she’s putting on her face, he really thinks he’d only get it wrong. She's actually already put it on his face, always dragging him into an involuntary skincare routine. Again, he'd do anything for a smile from her so he never says no.

"Oh gosh, that's-a lot is on your face." Y/n gasps rushing to brush her hands at Max's face to wipe his skin as best she can. "Wait, wait. I'll get a cloth, it'll go in your eyes when you're sweating in the car."

Max smiles sort of taking a moment to enjoy y/n's worry. It would definitely be a problem if his sweat got glitter in his eyes, but the fact she thinks about that and considers the risks really just makes him realise how perfect this woman is for him.

"I think I got most of it." Y/n murmurs then frowning as she inspects his skin. "Ok, you should be ok."

"I'll get my share of glitter later at the end of the race?" Max smiles making her nod trying to tone down her smile a little before she clears her throat.

"Ok, I'll see you at the end of the race. I'm going to go just take my seat." Y/n states earning a nod though when he tries to kiss her again she quickly moves back giggling. "No, I just got the fglitter off of you. You'll have to wait for a celebratory kiss."

"What if I don't do well? Do I get a pity kiss?" Max asks making her grin and nod. "And lots of glitter?"

"All the glitter I can manage." Y/n laughs then hugging Max tightly instead of allowing for a kiss. "Ok, go on."

"I love you."

"I love you too."

Max DNF'd.

Not necessarily of his own doing, at least the stewards deemed it a racing incident. Probably because him and the other driver both landed themselves out the race.

"I'm sorry baby." Y/n pouts as she walks with Max heading towards the Red Bull unit for him to change after being weighed upon his return to the paddock.

Max is unhappy but he'd managed to get a message to y/n in time for her to rush out of the garage where she'd been watching and to him.

Y/n goes to speak again, only to find herself lifted and carried by the Red Bull driver as he makes the most public display of affection with several kisses that successfully give him his fair share of glitter.

"Max..." Y/n murmurs looking at the driver with a soft sigh, trying to ignore the few cameras around them. "You know what you just did."

"I know." Max shrugs then smiling when he kisses her again. "But I really needed that."

Y/n smiles always happy to hear that she's being a help if only by her presence with him.

"You stay at the unit. I'll come find you after media." Max states finally placing her down on her own feet. "Don't talk to anyone who you don't already know."

"I'm not a child, Max. I know not to speak to media." Y/n laughs earning a hum before he cups her face looking happier than anyone as ever seen him for a DNF. "Go on, I'll be waiting."

Max quickly changes into some less sweaty clothes before moving to the media pen. One of the luxuries of a DNF is really there's not quite the rush to get to media as there is at the end of a race. Though admittedly, they still don't want him to take too long.

When he gets to media it's obvious word is spread about Max's mystery girl and he can tell they're holding off asking because they don't want to come across as unprofessional.

"You have glitter on your face again." The same journalist from yesterday comments making Max smile. "The same kids stage another glitter attack?"

"I think glitter might be a new part of my uniform after races." Max states with a nod. "I was waiting for someone to comment but you have all been very careful about asking. I thought you might change that."

"You seemed very happy out there as soon as we saw you with her." The journalist comments sincerely while Max can't hide his smile. "Usually you're not so happy after a DNF but it's good you have someone who can perk you up a bit more."

"I think it's the glitter too." Max comments jokingly then nodding. "I wasn't happy about the DNF and I don't think I will ever be happy but it was nice to have y/n there afterwards."

The journalists eyes practically twinkle with the tid bit of information that is y/n's name. Before today there had been a mild rumour of him being in a relationship, but really no one expected her to be so suddenly out on the scene.

After finishing up media, Max heads back to do the debrief of his own short-lived race before heading to his driver's room where y/n has relocated herself.

"You told them."

"I told them." Max confirms without an ounce of doubt about it. "Don't worry, I'll protect you if they're mean."

"It's ok, I'll throw glitter in their eyes." Y/n grins making Max laugh. He shouldn't really encourage her to be violent but violence with glitter feels so harmless from y/n he's not sure he can do anything other than laugh. Even if the idea of glitter in someone's eyes is probably enough to blind them.

"I think that might be the cutest but most effective form of self-defence ever." Max comments then checking himself for the amount of glitter he managed to steal from her.

"You know all we need is bows and you're the prettiest driver in the paddock."

"I love you, but not enough for bows." Max laughs earning a grin from the young woman.

"Ok, no bows. But I'm going to start getting more colour with the glitter...maybe I'll get you your own glitter-or I'll wear blue glitter for race day."

"All of those sound amazing." Max nods moving to kiss her again and maybe steal more glitter which is beginning to be his favourite thing.

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