New Tricks
New Tricks
Pairing: Virgin!Bucky Barnes x F!Reader
Word Count: 9.5k
Summary: After your brother has to cancel movie night, you’re ready to resign yourself to an uneventful evening back at your dorm, alone and dejected. But what you didn’t count on, is your brother’s best friend and roommate, bursting through the door and asking you to stay; to spend the night with him, instead
What unfolds, however, while you spend time with the star football player, both shocks and astounds you — one confession in particular.
Bucky Barnes, the Prince Charming of campus, the man you have been crushing on for an eternity, is a virgin.
Warnings: first kisses, fluff, smut, grinding, making out, big brother!steve, college!bucky, shy bby bucky, mutual pining, swearing, pet names, huge ton of reassurances, lots of praise, big hints of subby bucky
Author’s Note: beta’d by my baby @rookthorne
Okay, so where to start with this… the idea for this fic sprung from a certain someone 👀 and I just had to write it. Thank you to my girl for being a huge support through this, I love you 💗
These two have my whole heart and who knows? Maybe more will come of them 😌 for all my playlist lovers, you’re welcome - new tricks playlist ❤️
I hope you enjoy this as much as I’ve loved creating it 🥹
Standing outside of your brother’s apartment, your impatience starts to wane thin. For ten whole minutes, you have been waiting for Steve to open up. And knocking like a crazed woman is beginning to get old; so is waiting on the doorstep to his front door.
“Oh, for–” You grumble, and you lift your arm up to bang against the door for the umpteenth time, when your hand misses it entirely, owing to the fact it swings open to admit you with such enthusiasm, it creaks and threatens to bounce back off of the wall.
Bucky — your brother’s roommate, best friend, and your crush — sheepishly smiles and scratches the back of his neck.
The line of his shoulders slump when he lowers his arm, and you notice (and appreciate) just how broad and muscled he is. He must have just been working out, or you interrupted him — nonetheless, you’re thankful for the sight before you, and how it makes the crush you harboured for the brunette for years roar to life all over again.
Excellent, you inwardly sigh.
“Buttercup,” Bucky says — the affectionate nickname born from his sappy personality always makes you swoon, and his hesitant smile morphs into a wide one. You’re left fighting internally to keep your giddiness at the sight of him to a respectable level. “Hey, you. Sorry I didn’t hear you; I was listening to music.”
Your gaze continues up to his hair, finding it tied back with an elastic at the nape of his neck. Oh, how you wished you could run your hands through–
“Hey, you okay?” he asks, furrowing his brows.
Embarrassment floods you and you realise far too late that he probably has asked you a question, or several, while you were daydreaming. “Sorry, Buck,” you squeak, praying that the heat crawling up your neck was not as obvious as it felt. “What was that?”
His soft, puppy-eyed expression brightens when you meet his gaze. “It’s fine, doll. Everything okay?”
No matter how badly you want to stand and unashamedly stare at your brother’s best friend and roommate, your true intention behind your visit comes to mind.
“Can I come in?” you ask, lifting the bag of snacks you brought up higher. Bucky’s eyes glance down at the bag, and then back up to your face. “Stevie planned our movie night and he isn’t answering his phone — I told him I was on my way and I asked him if he wanted anything else.”
The confusion that creases Bucky's brows and downturns his lips in a small frown makes you narrow your eyes.
“Surely he didn’t forget,” you accuse, still staring into Bucky’s face. “I make the trip down from campus every two weeks. It’s been two weeks.” A sudden, encompassing guilt fills Bucky’s eyes, and he starts to worry his bottom lip with his teeth — a sight far too hard to ignore. “Why are you looking at me like that?”
“Um– I just–” Bucky stutters, and you watch as his fingers twitch and fidget — a nervous tic. If he didn’t look cute while stumbling over his words, you would feel sorry for being so blunt. “I just thought that– Uh, I thought it was cancelled. The movie night, I mean.”
You step forward slightly, and Bucky opens the door wider. A wordless invitation.
Bucky rushes to clear a space on the entryway coat rack for you, when he suddenly says, “You know, because of his date, an’ all.” His words falter at the look you shoot him. You stop taking off your coat, and you drop the bag of snacks to the floor, ignoring the crinkle and rustle of plastic.
“What do you mean date, Barnes?” The use of his last name causes a flush of deep red to pattern his cheeks, but you don’t let up. There’s music playing from down the hall of the apartment – right where Steve’s bedroom is. “What’s going on?”
Bucky skittishly fidgets and glances around the apartment, before meeting your heated gaze. “I– Look, I didn’t know–”
You silently mouth a curse, beyond frustrated with your older brother, and with yourself for taking just a second to indulge and admire just how sweet Bucky is when he is unsure. “Fine,” you huff, and you turn to walk straight towards the source and to investigate it yourself.
Bucky’s frantic footsteps behind you don’t deter your haste. “Wait, stop — Buttercup, wait!”
Forgoing a courtesy knock — having had enough of banging on his front door — you barge straight into the room with as little as a greeting call or warning.
“What the shit–“
The door to Steve’s bedroom slams against the wall, and you come face to face with the blond in the middle of a dance off with himself in the mirror. “Sis! Hey,” he gasps, holding his hand over his heart in fright. “What’re you doing–?”
In lieu of an answer, you cross your arms and stare at him, unimpressed and exasperated with his antics. “Don’t you hey sis me.” The fear in Steve’s eyes as you stomp towards him almost vindicates your indignation of being uninformed. “What do you mean you’re going on a date? It’s movie night!”
Steve has the decency to look ashamed. “Flower, I swear, I’m sorry,” he rambles, and he takes your hand, directing you to sit down on his bed. “I would’ve called to let you know but everything was so last minute.”
The grip he has on your hand is firm, assuring you of his true intentions, even when he turns the Roger’s charm up to an eleven to worm his way back onto your good side. “I swear sis, I wouldn’t bail on you without a good reason.”
“Okay,” you say, staring into his face — still not wholeheartedly convinced of his graces. A line of questioning is in order, you decide. “So, who is this good enough reason?”
“Natasha Romanoff.” The dreamy, love-struck sigh that leaves Steve’s lips after her name is uttered has you reluctantly trying to hide your giggle; the righteous anger and frustration slowly leaves your body in his admittance.
The fact that he has been obsessed with the college’s most popular redhead since forever, was a balm to the annoyance. You truly did feel happy for him underneath it all.
And, in the end, it’s how you decide to let him off the hook — though not without teasing him, first. “No way, the Natasha Romanoff? How the hell have you managed that one?”
Steve pushes your shoulder, and the force of his shove knocks you sideways onto the covers of his bed. “Fine,” you grouse, sighing heavily and resigning yourself to a night on your own. “I’ll let you off this time.”
“I’ll make it up to you, Flower,” Steve promises. And you believe him. He has always kept his word; ever since the two of you were kids.
“Good,” you say, smiling softly. “I expect an apology at my door in the next few days, though.”
Laughing, Steve nods, and then he stands from his bed.
“I’ll leave you to it then, I hope you have fun, bro.”
It is an impossible task for you to hide your dejected hurt from Steve, though. Clever and perceptive as he is, he detects the subtle sombre undertones underlying your reassurances, narrowing in on them like a dog to a bone.
You get to your feet with a quiet sigh, and as you move, you miss the thoughtful expression on his face; the perk of his ears at the almost indistinguishable shuffling of feet just outside of his bedroom. “How about you have a movie night with Bucky, instead?”
You stop in your tracks, frozen in shock at the sudden and downright surprising suggestion. “Stevie,” you admonish, “Bucky does not want to waste a Friday night with me–“
“I don’t mind!” Bucky shouts eagerly from the doorway, and you spin around to face him. The nervous fidget of his curls his fingers and hands around one another, over and over.
Had he been listening that whole time?
Guilt begins to flood you. Imposing on any plans Bucky may have made was a burden you did not want to bear, and you couldn’t fathom who would want to spend the night with their best friend’s little sister. “Thank you, Bucky, that’s really sweet of you,” you placate, smiling at him. “But I know you’ve probably got better things to do on a Friday night than be with me.”
Bucky seems to swell in the doorway, his chest puffing up and he sets his jaw, a determined glint in his eyes. “Actually, Buttercup,” he retorts, crossing his arms in a decisive move. “A movie night with you sounds perfect.”
The confidence in his tone takes you by surprise, and you flounder for a second while you stare into his steel blue eyes. “Really?”
“‘Course,” he replies easily, shrugging his shoulders. “It’ll be fun.”
His words, and charming smile, ultimately win you over.
With your attention wholly focused on Bucky as he begins to talk about what movies to watch, you miss the knowing, victorious smirk that curls Steve’s lips.
“Okay,” Steve calls from the doorway, looking back at the two of you, and you can’t help but be frustrated by his stalling. “Be good and behave while I’m gone. Oh, and, no staying up past your bedtimes — Bucky, her bedtime is ten o’clock sharp.”
The scowl on your face only serves to make him laugh, and you huff your exasperation before your hands grip his biceps; the only way to get him out the door is brute force. “Get out, Stevie,” you grunt, pushing with all your might, but it is to no avail. Steve is as immovable as a statue made of marble. “Don’t you have to go see Natasha?”
“Yeah,” Bucky agrees, and you hear the rustling sound of fabric. “Don’t you?”
Instinct tells you to duck, and you do so, just in the nick of time to avoid the pillow Bucky launches across the room from his place next to the couch. The pillow hits Steve square in the face with a comical thump.
You burst into laughter at the stunned look of disbelief on Steve’s face, and you look over at Bucky, who is leaning against the sofa; a smug grin pulls his lips up and scrunches his nose. “Get the hell outta here already, punk.”
With Steve distracted by Bucky’s betrayal, you take the chance to shove him out of the front door and watch delightedly as he stumbles in the hallway. “Hey–!” The door slams shut behind him, cutting him off.
Giggles shake your shoulders as you put your back to the door, leaning against it with all of your strength as Steve turns the handle — evidently not finished in the war of quips.
Bucky’s laughter from his place by the sofa makes your stomach flutter, and he walks closer, just as Steve stops attempting to break down the door.
With the end of Steve’s attempts to forcefully open the door, you turn and face the wood and peer out of the peephole. A blond mop of hair is just within view. “Bye Stevie!” you call through the door, “Have fun, wear protection!”
Steve’s reply is muffled by the wood, and he flips you off before walking away.
Shaking your head, you turn back to face the living room, and you see Bucky fussing around the sofa and coffee table. The strong aroma of a sweet, spicy scent fills your senses and you inhale deeply, letting the tantalising smell fill your lungs, before you ask, “Bucky, what are you doing?”
He sends you a furtive glance before looking back down at the snacks laid out on the coffee table, neatly placed next to two already filled glasses of drink. A bag of popcorn threatens to spill from his arms. “I’m, uh– I’m setting up? For the movie–?”
You could not help but notice how fast the bravado and confidence he displayed in the presence of Steve vanishes when he was with you, and you alone.
“Oh, sweetie,” you coo, walking closer. “I thought we could watch the movie in your room, instead of out here. It’ll be more comfortable, at least, and we can spread out. Is that okay?”
The popcorn bag that threatened to spill from his arms bursts instead, scattering the popped kernels all over the floor, making him yelp. “Ah! Uh– Okay, we… We can if you want?”
You nod once. “Absolutely. I’d rather be in your bed any day, then out here,” you tease, amused by the way Bucky’s eyes bulge and his cheeks flush. Then you look down at the popcorn all over the floor, and add, “But first, let’s clean this up.”
Bucky starts to clean up the mess, and he tells you to grab the movies you agreed upon from the collection in the bookshelf.
The selection to choose from is packed, as it always is. “Why don’t I grab a couple?”
“Sure,” Bucky answers, sweeping the popcorn into a dustpan. “I mean, why not? May as well go all out.”
You grin and grab a couple of cases. “Do you need some help–”
“No, I’ve got it, Bubs,” Bucky interrupts. You look over your shoulder at him to see the blankets bundled high in his arms, and before you could protest and insist you help carry them, he shuffles off in the direction of his bedroom.
Then, you glance down at the coffee table to see that the snacks and drinks are missing. “Did you grab the snacks?”
“Yeah!” Bucky calls back, muffled by the walls between the two of you.
A fond sigh falls from your lips and you follow after him, DVD cases in hand.
The tension in the air of his bedroom is charged with something you could not quite describe, and the butterflies in your stomach roar to life for it. You square your shoulders, and smile through it. “It’s no different, it’s no different,” you mutter under your breath; a mantra for confidence.
Though, it is short lived.
Bucky throws the blankets onto his bed with a grunt, and both the TV and DVD player switch on, ready to accept one of the disks you held in your hand.
A shuddery breath falls from your lips, and you make your way to the player to place the first disc in. It whirrs to life as you turn to look at Bucky, who is placing the snacks on a tray table, his tongue between his teeth as he works.
“Okay,” he hums, turning to face you, a shy smile on his face. “You ready, Bubs?” Without waiting for an answer, he walks past you to the light switch, his index finger poised to flip it off.
You look down at your body, the warm outerwear you had thrown on to get to Steve’s apartment suddenly becomes scorching hot against your skin, and an idea comes to mind — flustering him has given you a rush of confidence before…
“Almost,” you say, a hidden smirk on your lips. The layers of warmth are soft in your hands while you take them off, and you’re left in a thin tank top and soft, cotton shorts. “Now I am.”
A faint choking noise comes from the doorway behind you when you place the warmer clothes on Bucky’s desk chair. Inwardly, a coy smirk lifts the corner of your lips; outwardly, you look over to him, concerned and ever curious.
His face, normally soft and kind whenever he looked at you, is taut with embarrassment; blotchy and red. His eyes are frantically looking anywhere, and everywhere around the room but at you.
“Buck?” you say, getting his attention. His eyes meet yours. “You okay?”
The fidgeting is your first clue that he is struggling with something, and it is a battle to keep the teasing smile off your lips when his hands run constantly through his long hair and or come to a stop in the pockets of his grey sweats.
Patiently, you watch while he repeats the same actions several times, each pass of his hands only serving to make him even more flushed. “Yeah. Yep,” Bucky coughs. “Mhm. Just great, thanks.” He looks up to the ceiling and gulps loudly. “You’re really wearing those? Uh– Just those, I mean?”
You thin your lips to try and hurriedly fight off a smile as you grab your warm, fluffy socks from your bag. “Of course, silly,” you tease, shaking your head once. “I always wear my comfy clothes on movie night.”
The room turns deathly silent when you bend at the hip to pull the socks up your feet.
Peering up from your task, you see Bucky staring at your legs, evidently thinking he hadn’t been caught and his eyes begin to trail upwards, towards your chest. The slackjawed expression amuses you, though you feel the beginning sparks of your own shyness come to life.
“Buck?” A nervous laugh bubbles in your chest, and you play with the hem of your tank top at the heat in his gaze. “Bucky?” you try again, “Are you ready?”
“Uh– Yeah, yes,” he rushes, quickly flicking the light off so his face is cast into shadow. You could have sworn he looked like a kid getting caught stealing a cookie from the cookie jar — wide eyes and a deepening blush that spread down his neck.
Bucky had always been a little shy in your presence, this you knew. Whenever you come over to visit Steve, or you bump into Bucky on campus, you always notice a remarkable difference in his normal, unwavering charm that he had in familiar company.
This lack of swagger gives you the impression that you unfasten the young, boyish version of him; the one ruled by nerves, and hindered by a severe lack of confidence.
Sure, you enjoy spending time with him here and there when you hang out at your brother’s apartment, but never before have you been this close to him, and alone.
“Why don’t we–?” You gesture towards Bucky’s bed, and before he could either protest or agree, you jog to the edge and jump onto the plush mattress with a squeal of laughter. The blankets cover you easily as you roll yourself in them. “This is perfect,” you sigh, happy and content.
“And where am I meant to sit?” Bucky laughs, appearing in your eye line with a bright, amused expression. “You blanket hog.”
“Fine,” you drawl, and you disentangle yourself from the cocoon of blankets.
“Why, thank you, madame,” Bucky says, extending his hand in a mock salute, and he sits down in the now available spot, before sidling up the mattress, to rest his back on the headboard.
The broadness of his shoulders don’t leave much room between the two of you, and you decide to snuggle up to his side in a bid to get comfortable. You feel him tense with the proximity, but he doesn’t push you away or say anything.
“Are you ready now?” you ask, reaching for the remote. “For the movie?”
“Yeah, go ahead,” he rasps, nodding quickly.
Despite his initial nerves, Bucky settles comfortably in your presence — half of the movie goes by undisturbed with only the occasional shuffling to get comfortable after getting a snack, or a drink.
That all changes the moment Bucky becomes restless,his leg twitching against yours constantly, and he repositions himself every couple of minutes. From the corner of your eye, you see his mouth opening and closing; the courage building within him to speak up. You bite your tongue against the urge — let him speak first, you chided yourself.
“So,” Bucky eventually says, his voice quiet. “How are your classes going, Buttercup?”
You take your eyes off the screen and face Bucky, but he’s already looking at you, his eyes bright from the glow of the TV.
“They’re going good,” you reply, just as quietly. “Yeah, they’re busy — hectic, even, but good.”
The fabric of the comforter ruffles as you turn your body towards him — your shorts ride up with the movement, and your bare thighs brush against his sweats. Bucky tenses while you settle in and only relaxes when you stop shifting in place. “This time of year is always busy, the coursework and exams,” you continue, shrugging your shoulders. “But I’m managing okay, thanks.”
Bucky nods his head thoughtfully. “Yeah, all those art projects you’ve gotta finish, it must be tiring.”
Shock slackens your features and you reel back — you could not recall telling him what you studied. “How do you know what major I’m taking?”
“I– um,” Bucky stutters, suddenly overwhelmingly shy. “I hear you talking to Steve about it. Y’know, when– When you come over, on movie nights, and other nights.”
You can sense Bucky is not done explaining; he licks his lips and stares at his lap, where he fidgets, again. Quietly, as if embarrassed, he continues, “I see you lugging your big canvases across campus sometimes, too. From class, and– And from the window, when I’m actually studying.”
Warmth creeps up your neck again and you blink rapidly. You hadn’t noticed that he took so much notice of you before now, and you couldn’t help but feel endeared over it.
Desperate to shift the attention away from yourself, you blurt, “How’s, uh– How’s training going for football season this year?”
Bucky freezes for a second, then trips over his words, “Oh, it’s good– Yeah, it’s great. Coach says I’m progressing well, so I’m doing alright, I guess.”
“So modest, Buck,” you tease. It was common knowledge on campus that Bucky is the star player of the college football team, while also being scouted to join the professional leagues. You place your hand on his arm and squeeze his bicep reassuringly, lending him a bit of your confidence. “Don’t you sell yourself short, I’ve seen you play — you’re amazing!”
He inhales sharply and grimaces, an expression that contorts his handsome face. “You really think so?”
“Bucky,” you say slowly. The tense line of his body is obvious as you shuffle closer, but you are determined to prove your point; assure him of his talent and abilities, for all of a shy puppy that he is.
“Listen to me, honey,” you continue, and Bucky refuses to meet your gaze, instead focusing on his hands. “Everyone can see it, all of us — all of the women in the crowds, all of the kids that watch you from the sidelines. We’re all screaming for you.”
His skin is warm under your palm, but you don’t remove your hand. Instead, you grip his arm and shake it a little. “You’re amazing.”
Bucky stays silent — contemplative of your words, and you take the opportunity to think over the reason why Bucky chooses to stay in on a Friday night.
There is no questioning the fact that Bucky Barnes could pull anyone he wanted, whether it was to party, or to fuck, but to your recollection — and from what Steve had slipped in the past — no one has ever witnessed Bucky bringing anyone home, drunk or otherwise. No partner he could call his own, either, and he didn’t brag about the obvious charm he held over the many women on or off campus.
Cautiously, you venture towards the subject of your curiosity. “Speaking of, shouldn’t you be going out on dates on a Friday night, like Stevie? Surely you’ve got tons of girls lined up for you.”
Bucky’s silence turns deafening, unnatural. His body becomes stiff and he looks to be barely breathing.
“Buck?” You sit up and look into his face. It’s pulled taut with what you could only guess as shame, but that made no sense, and with a mounting, swelling horror, you realise you may have pushed him too far; teased beyond the point of what is acceptable between friends. “Hey, did I say something wrong? I’m so sorry–”
“No! No– I… fuck.” Bucky throws his head back against the headboard and covers his face. “Oh, God,” he groans, muffled by his hands. “Shit.”
“Bucky–” You hesitate, unsure of what to do or what to say. You’ve never seen Bucky behave like this, so anxious and uneasy. “I– I’ll go, it’s alright, I’m sorry,” you say quickly, and you start to shuffle off of the bed when you hear his muffled voice say something behind his hands. “What was that, I didn’t–?”
A heavy sigh lifts his shoulders, and they slump back down as he exhales. “Ihaventevenhadmyfirstkissyet.”
“Sweetheart,” you say quietly, and you shift back towards him. The curtain of hair he’s so fond of covers and conceals his eyes from view, but you refrain from tucking it behind his ear. “I did not understand a word of what you just said.”
Bucky clears his throat and shifts uncomfortably, looking up at you with a great effort. “I– uh.” His hands land on his thighs with a finality not unlike the final siren at his football games, and he utters a reluctant, “I haven’t even had my first kiss yet.”
His bedroom is quiet enough you would hear a pin drop. The TV had long powered off, since the movie finished while you talked, and the tension was palpable; a living, breathing encumberment that could not be cut with a knife. The flickering light from the still burning candle on his bedside drawers makes shadows dance across Bucky’s face.
Okay, you think privately, so what?
Bucky hasn’t kissed anyone before. It was justifiable — too busy with life, training and keeping up his GPA. You didn’t have to make a big deal out of this. “That’s okay–” Then the reality of the situation hits you, and your mind screeches to a halt.
If Bucky hasn’t had his first kiss… “Does– Wait, does that mean–?”
“Yes.” Bucky squeezes his eyes tight and refuses to look at you — it is obviously a painful confession, yet he still forces himself to spit it out, putting voice to the doubt in your mind. “I’m a virgin.”
Now that catches you off guard.
Bucky… is a virgin?
Bucky, the star football player; built like a Greek god with the charisma to match.
Sweat beads on his forehead and he looks like he is about to bolt from the room in his fear, and you realise all of your thoughts had shown in your expression.
“Oh,” you manage, blinking slowly. The hand that was gripping his arm had moved without you realising, and you hastily place it back on his bicep. “Oh, Bucky.”
No other words come to mind.
When you came to visit Steve for movie night, a calm, easy tradition in your routine, you never expected to end up in this kind of situation; on the other side of a confession that has left you speechless with shock, all while a strange confliction brews deep within your guts.
You had been there once, and what you wouldn’t have given to have the opportunity to experience it with someone you trusted wholeheartedly — like you did Bucky, your mind supplies not-so-helpfully.
The realisation hits you harder than you expect, and you gasp quietly, still gripping his arm to reassure him.
Bucky moves his hands to cover his face again, and his chest rises and falls with a sharp hitch. The nervous pants for air that part his lips bring you back down to earth and away from that revelation. You know he’s embarrassed; ducking his head to his chest and glancing up as though you had scolded him. The entirety of his toned body is rigid with fear, each muscle clenching and poised to run, to save what dignity he feels he has left after such a confession.
It’s difficult not to stare at the veins that line and bulge from his forearms down to his deft hands, and you almost feel guilty for it; he’s in distress, fretting over the reveal of his lack of sexual prowess, but you cannot help the lingering gaze over his body. He just looks so pretty.
From the get go, ever since you had met the star football player, you have always fantasised about him. The silent crush on Bucky had developed into such a deep attraction you almost couldn’t bear it any longer.
Having convinced yourself of the non-existent reciprocation kept your tongue at bay, in the past. And while Bucky’s virginity is a surprise, it did not hinder or lessen your feelings for him, quite the opposite; the heady weight of it settling over your mind like a blanket.
What was stopping you now? What would be the harm in testing the waters?
To hell with it, you decide. The springs of the mattress creak as you move to shuck the blanket off of your body, then your legs.
Bucky audibly gulps behind his hands when you move closer, and he positively freezes, like a deer in headlights, as you lift your leg up and over his thighs to straddle him. The soft brush of his sweatpants over your legs sends a shiver up your spine, and you sit down, settling your body comfortably on his thighs, just above his knees.
“What– What are you doing–?” Bucky whispers, and his words are muffled behind his palms. You grin, unseen by your quarry, and you shuffle up his thighs to his hips, your clothed cunt just below the seam at his crotch.
The sound of Bucky choking on his own spit is comical.
You pull his hands away from his face, the urge to kiss each palm overwhelming; feather-soft brushes of your lips against the soft skin sends the pulse in his throat racing. “Buttercup, please– This is embarrassing enough–”
“Bucky,” you whisper, cutting him off. “Look at me.”
Blue eyes meet yours, and you pour all of the unspoken words between you both in your soft gaze, willing him to feel the yearning. “Kiss me.”
“But–” He hesitates, a fish out of water again. His mouth hangs slack from the shock of such a bold request, and you place your pointer finger over his lips, shushing him before he can carry on protesting.
You pout, placing a hint of pleading in your tone, “Please?”
He looks at you as though you’ve grown two heads. “I– What, I mean,” he flounders, arms hovering at his sides, hesitant to touch you — terrified of taking it a step too far. “I don’t know–“
“Aw, Buck,” you coo, smiling softly. Carefully, you shuffle further up his lap until your knees brush against the headboard of his bed. Gently, you place your palms on Bucky’s toned chest, just above his beating heart hammering away — not wanting to frighten him. “I’ll show you, okay?”
“Yeah.” The tremble in his voice makes your heart ache, but you smile encouragingly.
“Here we go,” you soothe. He smiles weakly back, eyes still wide with shock. “I’ve got you.”
You slowly and steadily move closer to Bucky’s face. A shudder racks through his whole body when he feels your breath against his neck, and you peck his stubbled cheek before sitting back upright to face him.
“Okay,” Bucky shakily says, fisting the blankets in his hands. “Okay. That was okay.”
“See? It’s not so bad,” you tease, and you tilt your head to the side, sticking out your cheek. “Your turn.” From the corner of your eyes, you watch his eyes sweep across your face, still hesitant and nervous, but a slither of curiosity now shining through.
Broad, strong shoulders lift in tandem with his deep, grounding breath, and he steadily leans in before he second guesses himself. He resolutely does not touch your body, but he manages to find the confidence to gently press his lips against your skin, kissing your cheek.
This time, he sits back and looks up at you for direction and reassurance.
You consider it, ignoring the fluttering of your heart. His touch was sweet, but polite; a kiss on the cheek that you would give a friend after such a long time apart. And, in the end, you want Bucky to gain more confidence and actually enjoy kissing — he shouldn’t have to be ashamed to want it. “Good, that was good,” you say, keeping your tone mellow so as to not spook him.
He is making good progress, and gentle encouragement is the way to ensure it continues, you reason with yourself. “Now, I want you to do the exact same thing, but start gradually moving towards my lips.”
“Oh– Okay, okay,” he breathes, and his eyes widen slightly before they dart down towards his lap.
That needs to be rectified immediately, before he shuts down, you hastily think, and you react swifty, your hands roaming from his chest and up to the sides of his neck, adding a little pressure to bring him back down to earth.
There was an innate need for him to know that he could trust you; that you would treat him with the respect he deserves.
Gently, you lift his head up, forcing him to look at you, and the downturn of his lips makes your heart ache. All you want to do is soothe the fear and rid the worry from his pretty eyes that pierce you, even through the strands of hair that have fallen in his face.
“You’re okay, Buck,” you soothe, rubbing your thumbs over his warm, rosy cheeks. The movement and assurance seem to do the trick. “You’re okay. I’ve got you.”
A minute passes, and you watch as the confliction flitters across his face; an inward battle to assemble his courage to bridge the gap between you both.
There is another minute of silence, when he slowly advances, leaving his palms flat on the covers of his bed as he kisses you on the cheek.
“That’s it,” you praise, sitting still in his lap, but smiling softly in encouragement.
Bucky hesitantly returns the smile, and he doesn’t move away, rather, he decides to stay close. “You did good,” you say, still smiling, and he takes you by surprise when he moves forwards again to place another tiny kiss even closer to your lips. “Oh–”
The soft brush of his lips makes you freeze, and he takes his time, building his confidence with each peck he makes.
Finally, he reaches the corner of your lips, and he stalls; confidence wavering and faltering with the daunting task. You go to part your lips to speak on instinct, to encourage him, when he suddenly moves even closer to your face, making you hastily shut your mouth and brace for what was to come; willing for your heart to slow down the tattoo it beats against your throat.
“Okay,” Bucky whispers more to himself, and he clears his throat before licking his lips. “Okay, okay. Just–” His lips connect with the curve of you own, the brief and fleeting connection enough to tell you that his lips are plump; ripe to swell and redden with a passionate make out session.
Hastily, Bucky withdraws, but not all the way back — he lingers and only allows the tiniest space between your faces.
“You did it, sweetheart,” you coo, keeping your voice low. “I’m so proud of you.”
“Th– Thanks,” he stutters, and the rosy blush he sported turns a splotchy crimson. Interesting, you think.
You turn your head to look at him, and the proximity of his face makes both of your lips brush against each other. The intoxicating softness consumes you, and you cannot deny the reality that Bucky is there, he is right there. A torture that intensifies in the billowing silence, while a burning, reckless spike of adrenaline rushes through your veins.
“Do you want more?” you ask quietly, breaking the silence and shattering the tension.
A harsh breath falls from Bucky’s lips, and he presses forward to kiss you properly for the first time.
Whatever you had been expecting for a first kiss from the inexperienced, sweet, charming man beneath you, flew out the window. Your lips slot perfectly over his, a chaste kiss that held enough need and want to be something far more; it could not hold a candle to the sex you had with past flings.
The kiss, unexpected as it was, lasts only for a couple seconds longer before Bucky pulls back from it, panting lightly — puffs of air fanning over your slightly parted lips. He lingers, bumping his nose into yours to keep close.
But eventually, Bucky pulls all the way back to rest against the headboard.
The silence is not deafening — not like it was before, and you open your eyes, blinking slowly.
Bucky is already staring at you. His eyes are glazed over with hunger, and he's out of breath, the rise and fall of his chest faster than before.
You fare no better. Your heart pounds heavily in your chest, but it still feels like it’s lodged in your throat. No words are spoken between the two of you; just an invisible string that keeps you entwined to one another.
It’s difficult to find the words to say, especially after something so raw and vulnerable; so new and budding. You want him to feel safe, like he had done good, though; you want to tell him he has nothing to worry about, not with you.
And just as you open your mouth to speak, to praise him for how well he had done, Bucky slides his hands up your thighs, over your waist, and up to your neck, cupping the back of it in his large palm. “I want–”
To your utter shock, he drags you closer, his lips greedily slotting over yours for a far deeper kiss.
Bucky can’t get enough of you; already addicted and demanding more. You can’t be mad for it, not when he’s a sensational kisser — he’s good, far too good. The basics have you dizzy with want, and you decide on a whim to challenge him, to push him a little further and test the boundaries.
You part your lips as Bucky pulls back, and before he could kiss you again, you tentatively tease your tongue against his lips. The sensation makes him sit rigid again beneath you, and he chases your tongue, the surprised moan he lets slip vibrates into your mouth.
The power of such a move has you smirking into the kiss.
You only plan to stoke the fire by pushing him into the deep end a little — the prospect of overwhelming him too risky, but when you feel the effortless slide of Bucky’s tongue entering your parted lips to dance with your own, it leaves you physically stunned and unable to move.
Bucky compliments you perfectly, as though he is a natural, and someone so timid should not be capable of that — it’s dangerous.
It escalates — tongues dance and lips clash, and Bucky’s breath is heavy on your lips, as yours is on his, when he pulls back for air. There’s a pull that you can’t ignore, not any longer, and you bring your hands up from his neck to his hair, threading your fingers through it, making him moan quietly against your lips, “Bu–”
Your nails scrape against his scalp while he speaks, and you squeak in shock as Bucky’s hips surge upwards, forcing his hard cock against your clothed cunt. “Oh, fuck–” he gasps, and his body turns rigid with fear again while he pleads for forgiveness. “I’m so sorry, so sorry, Bubs– I–”
Quickly, you place your index finger over his lips. “Hush, you. It’s alright. I loved it,” you reassure, and suddenly, it turns into a game for you — you are desperate to see how Bucky plays along, how close to the edge you can get him. “Let it go, it’s okay.”
Bucky’s breath hitches as you grind down hard against him, and his hands rush down from your neck to grip your waist. The unabashed moan he lets slip is sinful; a delight to be the cause of, and a Cheshire Cat grin splits your lips. You’ll be damned if you don’t get more from him, you decide.
“Fuck,” he grits out, the grip of his hands on your waist turning painful. “Fuck, yes.”
You moan and allow him to move your body where he wants it — predictably, he perches you straight on his crotch and his hands wander, slipping beneath the tank top you wear to brush against your skin.
The resolve he had held onto so strongly is starting to slip, and you inwardly scream with joy at the dilation of his pupils, the heavy pants of his breath — a poor, virtuous man is melting into a puddle at your feet.
The position of your body gives you an impression of just how big Bucky is, and with his cock hard, you can feel the girth and the size of him against your cunt — a crime, you think, that it wasn’t inside you.
Your motions of grinding down into him have the tip of his cock catching on your clit through your shorts, and the thin material has no pretence of protectiveness, and you greedily lap every single, last sensation up while shamelessly taking more.
“Bucky,” you whine against his mouth, and in turn, he nips at your swollen bottom lip before sucking on it. “Fuck– S’good.”
“Buttercup, baby,” Bucky slurs, and his fingertips dig into your skin, unknowingly marking you in his lust-fuelled haze. “Fuckin’ feel good, please,” he whimpers, unable to keep kissing you with the way his moans and litany of quiet cries fall from his lips, longing for more; too far gone, he can’t help himself anymore. “Need more, please.”
You’re all too pleased to listen to his cries for you; begging would taste so much sweeter, though. Next time. “Okay,” you soothe, pecking him on the nose. “I’ll give you more, sweetheart.”
The bed creaks as you shuffle up Bucky’s lap, and you move your hands to grip the headboard. “Don’t keep quiet on me,” you warn.
“Wha– Fuck!”
You pant as you grind down on Bucky’s cock, the effort of making your hips work this hard and fast steals your breath, but the sounds — oh, the sounds falling from his pretty lips make it all worth it.
The added friction of your lace panties against your soaked clit only amplifies the pleasure for you, and it’s all you can do to keep going.
Bucky throws his head back and groans to the ceiling, but you follow him, leaning over and panting into each other's mouths and kissing messily, barely able to put anything behind them as you work the both of you closer to release.
You pull back to look at him, and the slope of his neck is too tempting to leave alone — the loose strands from his hair are sticking to the sweat gathering on his skin, and you watch a bead of it roll down a curve of corded muscle.
Of course, you weren’t going to let it go — you want him to crack.
Bucky moans, his breath stuttering as your tongue chases the bead of sweat, and you latch onto his skin, sucking steadily at his pulse point. “Baby– Baby, please, fuck,” he babbles, forcing his head back further to expose more of his neck.
You oblige, all too willingly and with a giddy enthusiasm; the bow of your lips trace over his Adam’s apple and down to his collarbone, where you bite down gently.
“Shit, shit,” Bucky suddenly exclaims, his words slurring together. “No– No, please, I ca– Can’t,” he begs, and you pull away from his neck, brows furrowing in concern. “Please, I don’t want to– To, shit–”
Words seem to be out of his grasp, and you wait patiently for him to gather his thoughts while you watch the thread of his restraint wearing thin, so close to snapping when he’s this overwhelmed with the pleasure you are giving him.
You can’t have that, though.
Bucky was torturing himself, not allowing himself the pleasure of giving into his base desires - what he needs. “Can’t what, sweetheart?” you ask. “You can’t cum?”
Bucky nods his head frantically, his eyes widening. You consider him, the sweat on his brow and upper lip, the way his eyes plead for something more; he’s so desperate to not cum, to let go.
It’s plain as day that he is holding himself back, when you knew deep down that he is itching to relinquish control and give in.
You decide then to push, to throw caution to the wind and make him take it. “Why not?” you whine, grinding back and forth, back and forth, over his painfully hard cock. “Doesn’t my pussy feel good, baby?”
Bucky whimpers and scrunches his face up, cock throbbing as he grows closer to finishing. You don’t think he realises how he rambles to himself, “Fuck, yes! It does—fuck, it does baby.”
“Think for me, sweetheart,” you say, leaning close to his face. “Just think for me, how good being inside my pussy would be.” The lure of being inside your cunt cracks the last of his resolve; control slipping through his fingers before he can grasp hold of it.
You smirk, watching how his brows furrow and his eyes squeeze shut. “Just think, Bucky,” you repeat, “How wet and tight I’d be for you. How I would scream for more; beg for more of your cock and what you give me.”
The sound Bucky makes is close to a wounded animal, and his grip on your waist is sure to leave bruises. “Oh, sweetheart,” you coo, mouthing softly up his neck until your lips brush over the shell of his ear, and you whisper, “Doesn’t that sound good, baby?”
Something snaps within him.
The headboard of the bed thumps against the wall as Bucky tumbles over the cliff, his restraint long gone, and he wraps his arms tightly around you, curling them around your waist to hold you impossibly close. You feel something wet on your neck, and you realise belatedly that Bucky is crying silently, overwhelmed with the pleasure.
To reassure him, you thread your fingers through his hair again to scratch at his scalp. You feel his lips move up and down your neck, placing open mouthed kisses over the skin “Are you okay?” you ask softly, careful to not move in his hold. “Bucky, baby?”
“Mhm,” Bucky hums, and he buries his face further into your neck, nodding frantically. “Pleasepleaseplease.”
A victorious smirk pulls the corner of your lips up. You know you have him — Bucky’s too far gone to come back down now, and he won’t be able to stop.
“Go on,” you purr. Bucky hungrily grinds up into your heat, seeking it out and forcing a gasp from your lips with the pressure. “That’s it,” you push, and your last deadly blow has the dam breaking, once and for all: “Cum for me then, pretty boy.”
“Oh, oh, fuck– Baby–” Bucky moaned, but you keep steady pressure over his cock, and his hips start to stutter in rhythm. “Shit!”
“That’s it, that’s it, sweetheart,” you coax, just as a damp patch stains the crotch of his sweats, and his legs tremble under your thighs. There’s a loud thump as his head hits the headboard of his bed.
“Fuck–” Your own climax begins to mount, the tension of it unbearable, and just the band snaps, you cry out to the ceiling, “Bucky!”
The room is full of pants for air, the synchronised rise and fall of your chests in tandem with the twitching muscles of your body; the rushed gasps for breath a symphony to your ears.
“Holy shit,” you murmur, and you finally look at Bucky — only to be taken aback with the awestruck expression on his handsome face. His lips are stretched wide in a dopey grin, and his eyes, while normally so bright and soft, are glazed over with post-orgasm bliss.
“You’re so beautiful, baby,” he whispers. You feel the brush of his fingers over your waist and thighs, a soothing touch that in combination with his words sends another wave of heat up your neck. “So fuckin’ beautiful.”
You smile nervously, suddenly speechless with the earnestness and fondness in his voice. Instead, you shuffle down his thighs to rest your arms on his shoulders more comfortably, and you play with the hair on the nape of his neck — the soft locks damp with sweat.
The two of you stare into one another’s eyes, then, you rest your forehead on his to whisper, “Well, handsome, not so bad for your first kiss.”
Bucky starts to laugh, then giggles take over as he faceplants into your chest, nuzzling himself against your tits in shyness.
After a while, Bucky starts to shift in place, and you start to rise up off of his lap, when his sudden stiffness alarms you. “Bucky? What’s the matter?”
“I— I don’t, I didn’t mean to—“ He stutters, looking down at his crotch. You follow his gaze, utterly confused — there is nothing abnormal, only the wet patch of cum staining the material.
Your confusion only increases, and you look back to Bucky’s face. It’s blotchy and red from embarrassment. “Bucky?”
“I– Oh, goddamnit,” he mutters, and he looks down at his lap again pointedly.
The realisation washes over you; a lightbulb suddenly going off in your head. He was embarrassed over coming in his pants. “Bucky, sweetheart,” you say, moving to cup his cheeks and force him to look at you. “Listen to me, okay?”
Blue eyes meet yours, his gaze pensive. You muster the warmest, kindest smile; no judgement apparent in your own eyes as you stare at him. “There is no need to feel ashamed.”
“But–” Bucky tries.
“No, listen to me,” you interrupt, and you lean in closer, bumping his nose with yours before reassuring him, “There's no need to feel ashamed, sweetheart.”
His pure, innocent gaze doesn’t fail to make you swoon even more over him. “It doesn’t?”
“Of course not, you know why?” Bucky shakes his head, eyes wide and intent to listen to anything you have to say. Your lips hover over his as you whisper, “Because I love you making a mess for me, baby.”
The weekend passes by swiftly, a tangle of bedsheets and limbs; kisses and fleeting touches that turn into passionate embraces.
It was only when Steve came home on the Saturday night did he kick both you and Bucky out of the apartment with a yell of, “Bye! Have fun, kids!”
You decided to take Bucky back to your dorm-room — an easy decision when you get to watch how his eyes trail over your body as you walk down the halls holding hands.
And on Sunday morning, bright and early, a series of knocks on your dorm-room door wakes you out of your slumber. “Damn,” you grumble, blinking slowly into the dimly lit room. The curtains are drawn, but a slither of gold peeks from behind the fabric; right over Bucky’s face and the mess of his hair.
You sigh and tiredly throw the covers off you, mentally preparing yourself to get out of bed, but before you can get up, two arms curl around your waist and tug you backwards into a muscled chest. The warmth of the embrace makes you sigh contentedly.
“No,” Bucky groans before burying his face into your neck and smothering you with his body; trapping you with his arms and winding his legs around yours. “Dun’ get up.”
You giggle as he starts kissing your shoulders and nibbling at your neck — the stubble of his jaw tickling the soft skin while his lips soothed over it. “I have to,” you say quietly, and you grab his arm to pull it off, only–
“Nuh-uh. Where y’think you're goin’, Buttercup?” The deep rumble of his morning voice has you inner self trembling, memorising your antics of your weekend together. “Can’t leave me.” And to solidify his claim, Bucky clings onto you like a koala.
“Bucky, you big goof.” You slap his arm, but he just grunts his protest, clinging to your body tighter. “Come on,” you say, wriggling — it’s met with no success of him releasing you. “Get off of me so I can answer the door.”
But you should have known that he is far too stubborn to let up that easily — a stubborn puppy that refused to give up his treat. “No. Tell ‘em to fuck off.”
“Fine.” Your only hope is an attempt to bribe him, you decide, and you look at him to find he’s staring at you through a half-lidded eye, the other eye obscured by his pillow. “How about you let me go, and I promise to give you unlimited cuddles for the rest of the day, no moving whatsoever?”
That gets his attention, and he perks his head up to lean closer to yours. “I wan’ unlimited kisses, too,” he negotiates, pouting his lips and narrowing his eyes.
You cannot help but chuckle. “Deal, handsome.”
Bucky plonks backwards onto the bed, star fishing in his sulking — the treat now successfully taken away.
With your newfound freedom, you sit up and stretch, ignoring the grumbles and quiet whines of, “Bein’ left alone ain’t right,” and, “Tell whoever it is to fuck off, I mean it.”
The bedsheets rustle under you when you scoot to the edge, the warmth of Bucky’s body and the softness of the covers already sorely missed, especially when you stand up and slip into your fluffy, warm gown and slippers. The brush of Bucky’s shirt over your skin makes you smile, the fabric soft and worn but oh so perfectly Bucky.
“Hurry back, Buttercup,” he calls after you as you walk slowly out of the room. “Please—don’ leave me too long.”
“Drama queen,” you whisper, quiet enough he wouldn’t hear. The knocking comes again and you curse the cause — if it’s your friend from class asking to borrow your notes again, you were going to slam the door straight back in their face. Aloud, you say, “I’m coming, I’m coming. Don’t bust the hinges.”
You prepare the speech to scold your friend as you walk to the door, and you grab the hand;e — the metal of it cold from the chill overnight. The door swings open with a loud creak, and you start saying, “What are you–”
The lack of a presence, or anyone at the door, stops you short — not even a shadow of someone running away down the hall. “Fucking door dashers,” you groan, and you turn on your heel to go back inside when the toe of your slipper bumps into something on the ground. “What–?”
A gift basket, filled to the brim with an assortment of chocolates and scattered gift cards to your favourite stores, is innocuously sitting there. In the middle of the basket, poking its head out next to a bouquet of your favourite flowers, is the head of a stuffie Golden Retriever, the fur irresistibly soft and the eyes bright — much like Bucky’s. Its mouth held a note scrawled in messy cursive.
“Okay,” you mumble, and you kneel down to look at it closer, worried that there had been a mix up or confusion of a dorm number. As you near the letter, you realise that the messy scrawl spells out Flower. “Wait.”
That meant only one person was responsible.
Your fingers tore open the letter and unfold it; the messy scrawl continues on the inside, too.
Flower, I’m sorry for bailing on our movie night.
I know you’re pissed, but I hope this and the beefcake attached to your back makes up for my mistake.
Love ya squirt,
Your big bro.
“Stevie,” you say, eyes darting over the lines of script. “You sneaky bastard.” There is a post script just below his sign off, and you continue to read.
P.S. Date went well, tell you all about it on movie night next week? I’m sure we’ll have guests joining us x
Shaking your head in amusement, you place the note back with the stuffie, and pick up the rest of your basket. “What am I going to do with you,” you mumble, stepping back into your dorm to place the basket on the entry table to admire it again.
“Wha’s happenin’?” a voice rasps behind you, and sure enough, the aforementioned beefcake in the letter from Steve plasters himself to your back; arms around your waist and his face tucked into your neck again. “Back to bed, c’mon.”
Bucky drags you backwards, chuckling deeply at your squeal of laughter that echoes down the hallway to your bedroom. “You made me a promise,” he grunts, and he pulls you back into bed and underneath the covers, intent on making sure you fulfil your end of the bargain.
More Posts from Squirreljoe and Others
This was so cute I recommend to 2atch this if you like dad!shawn I really loved it it made me cry it was so cute😭😂♥️
Baby Steps | Expecting
She wasn’t sure she was reading the test right. It can’t say pregnant can it? I mean, it was only one time that they didn’t use a condom. Just that one time.
“Oh fuck,” She sighs, looking up at the ceiling of their shared master bathroom.
Currently his side of everything was half empty, since he’s on tour and took it all with him.
That one time was when he flew her out to see him in Vienna and to stay with him for a few shows. Karen and Manny offered to take Adelaide so she could make the trip, to give the couple a chance to see each other and figure some things out since their lives had been so crazy with him gone for so long.
“This can’t be happening.” She murmurs as she stands on shaky legs, setting the third positive test on the counter.
“Mommy!” A soft knocking rings on the door. “Are you okay?” Adelaide calls, and she quickly wipes her tear stained cheeks, swiping all three tests into a drawer and opening the door.
“I’m just fine Bug, just had to go potty, are you ready for dinner?”
Lees verder
Please watch this if you like spn and teenwolf crossovers watch this it's so cute ! I love this, this is probably my favourite series on tumblr now☺❤
Like Father, Like Son - Part 5 (Final Chapter) – Theo and Dean Crossover
Based on the request and headcannon by @theoraekendeserveslove
Word Count: 3,154
Warnings: None really.
Author’s Note: There are a lot of changes. So, consider this an Alternate Universe/Ending from the Series Finale episode.
[Part 1] [Part 2] [Part 3] [Part 4]
[My Teen Wolf Master List]
Lees verder
Undercover
Angela Lopez x female reader (The Rookie)
“Officer Y/L/N,” Sergeant Grey calls, “Detectives Lopez and Harper want to see you.”
Your eyebrows rise in surprise. “Yes, sir.”
You make your way to the detectives’ desks, swallowing your nerves at the sight of Lopez before standing at attention. “Morning, detectives. Sergeant Grey said you wanted to see me?”
“Morning, Y/L/N,” Harper greets. “We’ve got a case. We could use your skill set.”
“My skill set? What exactly do I have to offer that you don’t, ma’am? Hard to believe you need a patrol officer’s help. Big case?”
“Don’t undermine yourself, Y/L/N. You’re smart. You’ve got good instincts. And you know this case inside and out,” Lopez cuts in. You swallow thickly at her praise, forcing the blush off of your face.
“The Tijuana Cartel?” You guess.
Lopez confirms it. “We’ve got an in. You and I are going undercover,” she smirks.
You nod, forcing yourself into business mode. “When are we doing this?”
“Tomorrow night. Which means we have today to prepare you.”
“This isn’t my first undercover op, Detective Lopez.”
“I know. We wouldn’t risk the case if we didn’t have faith in your abilities.”
You nod firmly. “I appreciate the vote of confidence.”
“You’ve earned it,” Harper assures. There’s a glint in her eyes that rouses a curiosity in you. She knows something.
You pull a chair up to their desks and review the case with the detectives. Several hours are spent delving into cover stories and planning before it’s time for a break. As Lopez and Harper bicker over what to get for lunch, you let your eyes trail over to Detective Lopez. Her eyes shine as she smiles at Harper, arguing that they get burritos way too often. Dark hair frames her face as she arches a brow at Harper’s claim that they hadn’t gotten burritos all week.
“What do you think, Y/L/N?” Harper asks.
“Huh? Oh, uh—I, yeah, I’m fine with whatever.”
“That’s what I thought,” Harper says with a vaguely accusatory look as Lopez shoots you a lopsided smirk.
“Y/L/N and I will go pick up the tacos,” Lopez says, motioning for you to follow her. You scramble out of your seat after staring for a moment too long, ignoring Harper’s laughter behind you.
“You ready?”
“As I’ll ever be. After last time…I can’t mess this up. Diaz needs to go away,” you mumble, remembering the barrel of his gun against your temple the last time you saw him.
“He won’t be there. Don’t worry. We’ll get him. If this op goes as planned, we’ll have enough to issue a warrant for his arrest.”
“Thank you, Detective Lopez.”
“You can call me Angela. We’ll be working together pretty closely the next couple of days.”
“Right, of course. In that case, call me Y/N.” Your eyes meet hers across the center console and your stomach flutters. You do your best to ignore it.
You nervously adjust the black blazer that rests over a lace corset top and black pants. As silly as it is, you’re almost nervous for Lopez to see you in something other than your uniform.
A knock on the door jars you from your thoughts. You open the door and smile in greeting before the grin drops entirely off your face.
Angela stands there in a long sparkly black dress. A deep V-neck and long leg slit leaves little to the imagination. Your eyes get stuck at the top of the slit where the beginnings of her hip are exposed.
She clears her throat and your eyes dart up to hers, finding an amused smirk on her face.
“You clean up alright, Y/L/N. Ready to go?”
“Uh, yeah. Yeah, I’m ready. You ready?”
“Always. Come on. We’ve got a party to attend.”
The two of you were undercover as girlfriends—not that anyone would even notice you at this huge party. Lights flashed and music pounded. A couple was having sex in one corner and a group of guys were playing poker in another.
You kept your arm wrapped securely around Angela’s waist—for the sake of your cover, of course. Her hand came to rest on an exposed sliver of skin on your stomach as the two of you stood near the bar. To anyone else, you looked like a drunken couple lost in their own world. But in reality, it was the perfect vantage point to keep an eye out.
Angela’s fingers pressed firmly into your stomach to get your attention. “There. Carlos. Diaz’s right hand man. Let’s go.”
Quietly, the two of you make your way across the dance floor—getting shoved against each other several times—and make your way down the hallway that Carlos disappeared into. The two of you stop outside the door he went into, leaning against the wood to hear what he was saying.
“Next week’s meeting is crucial. We can’t fuck this up. Anyone strays from the plan and Diaz will gut you like a pig, got it?”
You meet Angela’s eyes as another voice speaks too quietly to make out his words.
“Now if you’ll excuse me, I was in the middle of something before you interrupted me. And she was hot.”
Your eyes widen as Carlos’ footsteps approach the door, and you grab Angela’s hand and drag her quickly down the hall. You slow to a semi-casual stroll.
Footsteps coming from the other direction pull a cuss from your lips as you realize that you’re being boxed in.
“Shit, we should call for backup,” Angela mumbles, her eyes darting around in search of an escape. The footsteps are growing close enough to have your heart thrumming.
“Do you trust me?”
“What? Of course I do,” she answers with confusion. Swallowing your nerves, you duck your head down and bring your lips to hers, pushing her back into the wall. She doesn’t kiss back at first, but then she understands your intentions and reciprocates.
Her hands run down your sides, pulling you closer into her body. The footsteps fade to the back of your mind as you run your tongue over her bottom lip, moaning lowly when she grants access. With one hand against the wall next to her head, the other hand grabs her hip and brings it into your own. Her hand tangles in your hair as she tilts her head, finding a new angle that has the both of you moaning and pushing desperately for more.
“Who are you? You can’t be back here,” a deep, grainy voice cuts in. The two of you break the kiss but your hands remain on each other and your bodies against the wall.
“Uh, sorry, just got distracted,” you tell him with a laugh. “This dress should be illegal,” you add as your eyes rake over it.
“We just wanted some privacy. Only so much you can do before people begin to notice your hands under the table,” Angela says with a smirk. Holy fuck, I’m gonna die right here, right now, you think.
“Well you can’t be here. Get out. Now,” he grumbles.
“Of course. So sorry,” she giggles before pushing off the wall and dragging you down the hallway. You turn around and give the burly man a half-sorry shrug.
The two of you make it back to the car in silence. Adrenaline lights your bodies aflame and arousal has your hearts beating rapidly. Once seated in the car, the air turns thick and awkward.
“Um, I’m sorry if I crossed a line back there. I understand if you need to write me up, or–”
“Stop right there. It was good thinking. If we had been made, we might not be alive right now. Nobody’s being written up,” she promises. “Plus, it was a pretty good kiss,” she adds with a smirk.
“Just pretty good?” You laugh.
“Yeah, not half bad.” Her eyes dart down to your lips and your stomach tightens.
“Is it bad that I want to kiss you again?” You whisper.
“Yes. Definitely. But I think you should do it anyway,” she urges you.
Without hesitation, you lean in and meet her lips once more, sucking her plump bottom lip between yours and drawing a moan from her throat. Her tongue slips into her mouth as your hands roam desperately over her body that's separated from yours by the center console. Her hand dips beneath your blazer, toying with your waistband as her thumb slips beneath it. Her hand moves to the button of your slacks.
“Can I?” she breathes.
You nod, whispering “please” before a knock on the window interrupts your actions. Your bodies jolt apart at a speed that you briefly think might be inhuman. When you see the face that’s smirking outside the car window, your body fills with fear. “Oh no.”
Angela opens the window and Harper leans down, smiling evilly at the two of you. “So. You two have fun? What am I saying? Of course you are. Enough fun to forget that I could hear everything over comms.”
“Nyla–” Angela starts.
“Don’t. Your little secret is safe with me. It’s about time you two stopped making heart eyes at each other and actually did something about it,” she smirks.
Speechless🫠🫣
bunny! - ln4
pairing: lando norris x fem!reader summary: in which lando always calls you bunny OR your favorite place to be is riding lando's cock warnings: smut, riding, dirty talk, language, pet name!, NOT PROOFREAD (I hate re-reading stuff I write if you couldn't tell hahahah) word count: 1.2k ish author's note: this idea came to mind LAST NIGHT and i just had to write it since i'm off of work today. talk about me feeding y'all LOL xoxo still working on oscar's version of aphrodisiac chocolates!!! I literally wrote this in like an hour so it’s shortttt. xoxo ily ◢◤◢◤◢◤◢◤◢◤◢◤◢◤◢◤◢◤◢◤◢◤◢◤◢◤◢◤
Lando calls you Bunny like it’s your actual name.
Don’t forget your lanyard later, Bunny
Hey Bunny, can you hand me that?
Y’look great, Bun
It was constant. In the paddock. During interviews. Even the fans notice it. Some thought it was a childhood thing. Others assumed it was just something that stuck.
And the rest of the grid? Of course they asked.
And every time, you and Lando offered a different answer.
She had these ridiculous bunny ears the first time I met here…never wanted to take them off.
Her nose used to do this little twitch whenever she was annoyed…I swear
She loves carrots
And tonight was no different.
You’re curled into the booth beside Lando, wine glass in hand, one leg draped over his under the table. He was warm, hand on your thigh. Thumb brushing soft, lazy circles.
And then it came up again.
“Alright…someone has to ask again,” Pierre points his fork toward Lando. “Bunny. What’s it actually from?”
Groans went around the table. Everyone chattering how he’ll never tell you. Just let them have their secrets.
And Oscar grins. “No, I wanna hear this one.” He leans forward. “What’s the excuse tonight?”
Lando doesn’t miss a beat. Fingers gripping your leg. A grin pulled onto his mouth.
“Showed up to my flat in bunny ears once. Wouldn’t take them off.”
You scoff beside him. “It was Halloween.”
“She wore them to sleep.”
And laughter erupts around the table.
And his hand tightens on your thigh. And you felt the shift in his demeanor.
The part no one ever saw.
The reason why he started calling you that.
Didn’t know that the first time he’d said it, was barely a whisper, as you rode him in his driver’s room after a race.
How you were so worked up, desperate, how your knees trembled as you bounced on him like you couldn’t stop.
They didn’t know how he said it when you were on top. How he groaned against your lips.
“Okay but seriously,” Charles says, laughing. “Is it like a….is it like a kink thing?”
You choke on your wine. And Lando drags his fingers higher up your leg.
Lando didn’t even so much as blink. “Absolutely not.”
And later, after everyone said their goodnights and you slipped into the car with him, Lando was quiet. Calm. Fingers brushing against your skin whenever they could.
And when you got back to the hotel. The door clicking shut.
He says, “Everyone thinks it started with ears…”
He presses you into the wall.
“But it was this fuckin’ cunt, Bunny.”
His voice was low. And you gasp, fingers curling into the fabric of his hoodie, as he grinds his hips into you. Slow. Heavy. Could feel how hard he was.
He kisses your jaw, under your ear…biting, sucking, claiming you.
“Fuck,” he groans into your skin. “Remember that night? In the driver’s room? You got on top of me like you needed it. Like you were gonna die if I didn’t let you bounce on my fuckin’ cock.”
You whimper.
“I think about it every fuckin’ day.” He groans.
And you don’t even get a chance to respond before he lifts you off the ground, hands gripping your thighs, and carries you straight to the bed.
“M’so obsessed with it,” he says, voice rough. Kissing you again as he drops you on the mattress and yanks his hoodie over his head with one hand. “With you. With this fuckin’ cunt.”
He kneels between your legs, pulls your panties off, and then stuffs them in his back pocket.
He pulls his jeans down, cock hard and thick. Leaking.
“Don’t even wanna fuck you from behind anymore. Just want you on top. Losing your fuckin’ mind on my cock.”
You crawl into his lap, straddling him like instinct.
And he hisses when your cunt touches his tip.
“Y’turned it into a fuckin’ problem,” His hands grip your ass.
You drag his cock through your folds, teasing him. And he hits his head against the headboard with a thud as he drops his head back.
“Y’think I don’t notice the way you moan when I let you sit on it?” He pants. “The way you tell me to shut up and take it like a good boy?”
You sink down on him in a single motion.
“Fuck, Bunny…” He gasps. Hips jerking.
And you start moving. Steadily. Rolling into him.
“Every time you do this,” He says through gritted teeth, hands grabbing your hips. “I tell myself that it’ll be the last. I’ll tell myself Lando, be normal. Change it up.”
And you bounce on him harder.
“But then you climb into my lap with that fuckin crazed look in your eye. And I let you. Always let you.”
His head rests against the headboard. Neck thick. Veiny. Flushed.
“Ride me everywhere. Every fuckin’ place that you shouldn’t.”
He flexes his hips into you, just enough to make your cunt clench. And you gasp.
“Let you ride on me on that fuckin’ plane. My trainer two rows back. Had your sweatshirt over your lap like that would hide it.”
You whimper, pressing your hand to his chest. Cock twitching in you.
“Remember Suzuka?” He continues. “Showed up with no underwear under that skirt, climbed into my lap during lunch and said, five minutes. Just need to use it.”
He groans at the memory. At the feel of your cunt around him.
“Fuckin’ bounced on me while I tried to be normal. Bit into my shoulder while you came.”
You roll your hips harder, whining.
“Imola…my god…” He pants. “Told you I was exhausted. Needed to sleep.”
He lifts his head, eyes meeting yours. Eyes blown.
“And you just got on top. Said I’ll do all the work.” He huffs. “And you did. Fucked me so slow and deep. Grinding into me like you wanted my fuckin’ soul.”
You moan, squeezing him. Panting.
“Monaco yacht…” His hands grip you harder. “Dragged me into that fuckin’ cabin during the afterparty…made me sit on that little chair.”
You both breath out. Hips grinding harder as he fucks into you.
“Remember how many people were there? How many of them heard the fuckin’ chair squeaking under us every time you dropped down onto my cock?”
You’re gasping now. Head falling into his neck.
And he fucking loses it.
Mouth on your throat, sucking a bruise there, as his cock slams up into you.
“Hotels, rental cars, Fuck…in a fuckin’ golf cart. Remember that?” He hisses. “Bahrain. Climbed into my lap after practice, pushed your panties to the side, said you needed to calm down. Calm down.”
You’re sobbing.
“It’s the only way I want it now. Moaning. Grinding. Milking me.”
Your body seizes. Hips uncontrollable now.
“Y’gonna come again?” He grunts. “Make another mess on my cock like always?”
You nod into his shoulder. Unable to speak.
“Do it,” He groans. “C’mon, Bunny. Fuckin’ come all over me.”
And you do.
With a loud moan, cunt squeezing him tight. Shaking. Trembling.
And he was right there with you. Hips jerking as he comes inside you, groaning your name out like he didn’t want it to end.
“Bunny…bunny. Fuck, I fuckin’ love you.”
You collapse into him. Wrecked. Smiling.
“You’ll do it in the morning, yeah?”
You laugh. “Obsessed.”
He kisses your temple.
“Fuckin’ right.”
Honestly Best thing I’ve ever read ngl!😍
❣️!Love to hate you!❣️
Pairing: kylian mbappe X fem OC (Cherrie)
Word count : 6.2k
Warnings : kylian and Cherrie being mean little bitches to each other. (With love though). Love/hate. Mostly fluff . Enjoy xoxo
The players stood gathered in a close circle by the edge of the pitch as they all looked over to the tunnel with various expressions on their faces .
Some of amusement , a little bit of worry but mostly exasperation as they watched kylian lean against the wall beside the tunnel with a face full of thunder as he looked down at his watch impatiently .
Neymar was the first one to break the uneasy silence that had settled between them as they all waited for the real shit show to began. It was surprisingly off schedule today as usually they would arrive to the pitch to the drama already having begun.
But a certain someone was late.
And with each minute that passed with no sign of Cherrie appearing , kylian's face grew more and more pinched .
He was seconds away from starting to tap his foot like a pissed off parent too.
"Do you think it's ever going to stop?" Neymar mused as he leant his elbow against lionel's shoulder , ignore the look his friend gave him as he put all his weight onto his side.
Both Ramos and achraf pursed their lips and simply looked over at him like he had said something stupid.
Even Lionel snorted . Shaking his head like a disapproving father would.
"Is that a no then?" He asked again just to be sure. Grinning when they all rolled their eyes at him.
Ramos let out out a amused laugh , grinning to himself as they all watched the woman of the hour slowly start to appear from the end of the tunnel.
They could see her dragging her feet with sunglasses over her face , hesitantly peering around the corner as though she was about to face a fire breathing dragon.
She wasn't far off. Because the minute kylian clocked her arriving out of the corner of his eye, he almost starting breathing steam from his ears as he huffed and pushed himself off the wall quickly .
Stomping over there till he was stood in front of the tunnel with his arms crossed tightly over his chest, a cold glare already being levelled in her direction.
It was no secret to anyone that the two players just didn't seem to get on.
No matter how many team bonding exercises that they had been forced to participate in , each one had ended with the both of them in a screaming match while their friends had to rush over and physically separate them to stop a crime from taking place .
Both of them would be pointing fingers at the other in blame , refusing to admit which one of them had started it this time .
Although it didn't really matter who started it because the argument never seemed to fucking end.
Their friends had begun to understand the phrase of 'never go to bed angry with your partner' because they realised that it was applied to the pitch too.
Because when Cherrie and kylian left the match angry at each other , it wouldn't just be left at that. The bitterness and anger would then be dragged into the next day , and the next and the next .
They no longer argued about anything that made sense either .
At the beginning most of their fighting had been because of the fact that Cherrie was very close friends with Erling haaland.
And for some reason , kylian, had stupidly just expected her to let her friendship with his rival fade to nothing when she had arrived at psg as the newest player on their team.
But she hadn't because she simply told him that she didn't give a shit about how he felt about haaland , he was her friend , not his, she wasn't doing anything wrong and she wasn't about to lose a decades worth of friendship to soothe kylian's pride! No fucking way.
It had all went rapidly down hill after that.
With kylian deeming her a traitor and accusing her of probably telling Erling all of their tactics like a two faced snake .
Lionel had to physically grab a hold of Cherrie before she tried to de-kneecap their star player .
They had quickly learned that day that Cherrie had a mouth of a sailor and tongue like a fucking razor when she was upset .
Because the curses and insults that had started flying out of her mouth towards the player were... honestly , very impressive and more than a little scary.
She wasn't afraid to get up in his face and dish back what he spat out.
If kylian 'accidentally' tackled her during training , Then she 'accidentally' kicked him in the balls with the studded heel of her boot facing up.
Things got ridiculously petty , incredibly fast.
Although it brought some amusement to their friends to see the both of them constantly competing against each other , even though they were on the same team.
Several times their coach and their team had warned the two Young players that they needed to put their differences aside and become a United front. That they needed to stop being so prideful and become friends.
Both of them had apparently went deaf during that meeting because not even the next day they had all stood back and watched in disbelief as they started rolling around on the pitch fighting together , kicking at each other and cursing each other out like little kids after kylian had once again 'accidentally' took the ball from her .
The ball had became long forgotten when Cherrie had tackled him to the floor and put kylian in a headlock. Leaving their teammates to rush over and tried to separate them.
His friend , achraf, had been in disbelief as he watched his best friend refuse to stop winding her up even when he was being choked out.
'Is that the best you got snake?!' He had merely hissed back at her as he threw his body back so the both went sprawling back onto the pitch , Cherrie still refused to let his head go even as the referee had been blowing his whistle above them like a mad man.
In the end the both of them had been red carded and sent off the pitch like naughty school kids . The two of them still pushing and shoving at each other's body as they stormed off , still insulting each other childishly . Not caring that their manager looked like he wanted to kill them.
And it hasn't gotten much better after that.
Only their friends found it more than a little strange how that despite kylian's constant vocal 'hatred.' Of Cherrie , he couldn't seem to leave her alone!
Lionel had been the first one to point it out . After Watching kylian lean forward in his seat once Cherrie had been sent off the pitch with an injury from a particularly nasty tackle .
Kylian hasn't been playing that match but Lionel had felt like he had been from the constant shouting and personal refereeing he was doing from beside him.
Every time that Cherrie had the ball , kylian would be muttering something about how she wasn't doing it up to his standard .
Like 'she was too slow on that tackle' or his favourite 'she should have just taken the shot!' Even though she was not even halfway close to the goal.
Yet when they had watched the other team start to target Cherrie and get more careless and dirty with their tackles .
Kylian had turned into a mega motormouth.
He had started cursing out every single player that even so much as nudged her . Snapping insults about the player that had absolutely nothing to do with football at all.
Lionel had then noticed the way that kylian had been unable to sit still after she had gotten injured, growing more antsy when she refused to be pulled out of the game. Determined that she could play on.
Kylian had been huffing and puffing beside him like a concerned mother hen.
"She's lost her mind!" He had exclaimed as he glared down at the pitch to where she was stumbling along.
He then turned to him with a scowl "you see what I mean? She does stupid things! She's going to hurt herself even more! And it's her birthday soon. Does she want to party with a limp?!" He sounded far too concerned for someone that apparently hated her guts.
Lionel had tried to calm him down. Aware of the cameras panning in the direction for their reaction.
"She'll be okay. She's strong." He had simply told him.
Only for his eyes to widen in surprise when kylian snapped his head over to him quickly , pulling a face like he was the stupid one.
Scoffing loudly "she's just pretends to be! She won't admit that somethings wrong. She could literally be bleeding from her eyes and she would tell us that it was just 'a headache' and that it's 'no big deal!" He mocked her girly voice , imitating her childishly while scowling with his arms crossed over his chest as he waited for her to be substituted out.
Lionel couldn't help but grin a little at the clear worry that was written across the young players face as he realised then that perhaps kylian didn't hate her as much as he liked to make out.
Realising that it might have been the green little bug of jealously that was making him act so sour towards her.
Because he was certain then that if Cherrie hadn't had been such close friends with haaland, that their relationship would have been completely different.
He could even faintly remember from a couple of years ago when he had spotted kylian watching a video of her that a fan had made with a smile on his face and his eyes glued to her in awe.
At the time Lionel had teased him lightly "you like her? She's very pretty and a great player." He had said .
unaware that two years later that exact same girl would been joining their team and completely changing kylian's life.
Kylian had just bashfully chuckled and shrugged his shoulders a little sheepishly as he angled his phone towards him so he could show him a clip of Cherrie bicycling the ball into the back of the net.
"I thinks she going to become a top player. Everybody seems to love her too.." he had sighed a little like a boy with a crush.
“It's like watching a supermodel play football. No doubt she already has a boyfriend." He had muttered enviously .
Lionel had just patted him on the shoulder encouragingly and said a "you never know what will happen." before leaving him to it.
He couldn't have been more right if he tried.
Because he hadn't expected kylian to suddenly decide to hate her guts when he finally had his chance to know her either . Who would have?
Instead he was stuck watching kylian pretend that he didn't care at all while his actions showed the exact opposite .
He said one thing but did another . Lionel thought amusedly as he watched kylian lean forward in his seat as Cherrie finally hobbled her way over to the bench.
Immediately she looked kylian in the eye and scowled .
“I don't want to hear it!" She warned him already knowing what he was thinking.
Kylian scoffed at her, unimpressed as his eyes flickered down to her swelling ankle with a glare.
Only Lionel could see the way his hand was clenching and unclenching on his lap anxiously as though he wanted to reach out and help her.
Instead he snapped at her "that was incredibly stupid! You should have come straight off! Did that tackle make you lose what little brain cells you have left as well?!" His voice rose angrily .
Cherrie just flipped him off as she went up to the seats behind them, picking the one that was furthest away from his.
Pulling off her shoe she flung it to the side with a wince . Then she pulled off her shin guard and rolled off her sock, assessing her throbbing foot.
Waving off the medic who had came over with a Frown.
“just need some painkillers and it will be fine." She had muttered stubbornly .
Swallowing the pills dry when the medic had handed her them before reluctantly leaving her be when she refused to let them help anymore.
Kylian finally had enough and abruptly got to his feet . Not uttering a word to either of them as he stomped out of view .
Leaving Cherrie to scoff to herself, pouting a little as she sunk back into her seat to get comfortable for the rest of the game that was left to watch.
"He's ridiculous. You would think that I deliberately made that player tackle me with the way he's acting." She huffed .
Lionel looked over at her with a slight frown, shaking his head at her.
"You must admit you're a little stubborn . You shouldn't have kept playing. You know better than that. “ He scolded her lightly , being the only person that she would let do so.
She respected him too much to be upset .
Instead she just sighed and pursed her lips "maybe." Was all she muttered before kylian finally came back into view.
This Time he had a large flexible ice pack in his hand as well as a bandage . Jumping over his seat till he reached Cherrie side, the scowl never leaving his face as he sat down beside her.
"Stupid idiot." He snapped at her again as he grabbed her leg and swung her foot up into his lap without any warning making her Yelp.
She slapped at his shoulder with a glare "don't manhandle me like that kylian!" She threw at him angrily . Yet she didn't move her leg and instead settled back into a more comfortable position , still pouting like a child.
Kylian just huffed moodily as he placed the ice pack around her swollen ankle and started to wrap the bandage around it to keep it in place .
"It's going to hurt even worse tomorrow Cherrie! It's what you get for being such a stubborn lunatic! Do you ever think right?!" He shot back at her .
Not noticing the way Lionel was watching him fret over her ankle and insult her at the same time.
Watching as kylian started gently massaging her legs on his lap, even the uninjured one. Still glaring at her furiously.
That was some serious multitasking. Lionel was almost impressed by his stubbornness to keep up his 'I hate you' act like this. When it was so clear to him that it was the exact opposite .
Cherrie just groaned and threw her head back against the seat, closing her eyes as though if she couldn't see him then she couldn't hear him either.
Seeing what she was doing, kylian pinched her thigh making her gasp and glare at him again.
"How are you going to get up the stairs at home? I told you it was a bad idea to get a place with so many fucking stairs!" He scolded her , looking over at her questionably .
She just rolled her eyes at him as though she was used to hearing him complain about her house.
Lionel was taken a back. Eyes widening a little as he tried to keep discreetly eavesdropping .
How did kylian know what the inside of her house looked like? As far as he and their friends knew, the two of them had never even locked eyes once the game was over.
Were they missing something? He felt like it was something pretty crucial as he watched Cherrie pull off kylian's hat and place it on top of her head, the player not even doing anything about it.
Instead kylian then took off his scarf and wrapped that around her too.
What the fuck? Lionel couldn't believe what he was witnessing.
"Like your apartment is any better?" She had shot back at him . "It's top floor!"
Kylian pulled a face "it has an elevator dumbo!"
"You know I'm scared of elevators kylian! They're death traps!" She exclaimed .
Kylian was the one to groan this time as he gently pushed her legs off of him and got to his feet just as the whistle was blew for the end of the game.
Not taking his eyes from her as he carefully pulled Cherrie to her feet as well.
"You're going to have to get over it because I'm not dragging you up two flights of stairs till you recover . We'll be using my elevator because that's the smart thing to do..." he then wrapped her arm around his shoulder and swung his other arm around her waist as he began to lead her towards the exit.
"Don't even try to argue with me cherrie! You have no say in this! This is your punishment for being a stupid idiot!" Lionel heard kylian snap at her as they passed him.
Neither noticing the gobsmacked look on his face as he watched how easily Cherrie leaned into his side despite the stubborn scowl on her face .
"You can't tell me what to do! I'm going home!"
"Yeah , with me! Now shut up because your annoying ass voice is giving me a headache ..." kylian insulted her as they turned the corner to exit the tunnel.
There was silence for a moment before Lionel heard kylian mutter a "you want pasta tonight? I bought the labyrinth for us to watch as well. Thought I might as well watch it seeing as you won't fucking shut your big mouth up about how good it is-"
He didn't catch the rest as they disappeared together through the exit door.
And it was that night that he realised that kylian and Cherrie weren't enemies at all.
Because what kind of enemies slept over at each other's place and had movie nights together?
And as they all stood watching them still bickering at each other , four months since Lionel had realised something was going on. They still just couldn't get it at all.
"Are you sure you didn't hallucinate the whole thing Lionel? Cause they don't look close like that at all!" Ramos frowned over at him judgementally .
Not believing him at all.
Lionel just scoffed at him, rolling his eyes, hard.
"I'm going to just ignore the fact that you're hinting at me going crazy Ramos." He said to him , deciding to be the bigger man.
Ironically.
"I'm telling you. He's in love with her , I don't know if Cherrie loves him too because she's a little harder to read-" he grimaced a little as they watched Cherrie slap the back of kylian's head with her hand when he asked her if she had suddenly forgotten how to tell the time .
"I slept in! And the roads are more confusing from Sarah's house! I got a little lost!" She tried to defend herself as she grabbed a ball and started to warm up .
Kylian quickly following her as they started passing the ball between them casually.
He bounced it on his knee a couple of times "I can see how you could get lost.." he nodded mockingly before kicking the ball at her , aiming for her head.
"If you closed your eyes! It's a straight fucking road here from your best friends house Cherrie!"
She dodged the ball and instead started dribbling it around the cones that were set out. Kylian jogging beside her as they took turns passing it around the obstacles .
Rolling her eyes at him with a pissy huff , clearly still hungover over from having girls night with her friend.
They had went from laughing over wine to taking vodka shots and crying over the latest romcom.
Then she had woken up in a bathtub hugging a pillow with Taylor swift’s face on it.
Which unfortunately wasn’t the first time this had happened.
Though it never made it any easier to handle in the morning when her head felt like a drum that was being slammed on.
"It's not that straight of a road If you go in the wrong direction dickhead!" She shot back at him. Annoyed that he was constantly taking shots at her terrible driving.
So she had gotten lost a few times while driving? It happened to everyone at least once.
It just happened to happen more frequently to her. That was all.
Kylian snorted , smirking as he shook his head .
"You look like you've been dug up from your own grave Cher. Hope you have some heavy makeup to cover up the hangover." He snickered as he flicked her forehead .
Before quickly Ducking to avoid the ball to his face .
"I'm still hot even if my brain is trying to fall out from my ears. You're just jealous that I look like this even on my bad days!" She arrogantly smirked as they came to a stop just as their coach told them to take a break.
"What? Ugly?" He grinned. Laughing as she kicked him. Shoving at his side as he tried to pull her into a side hug. "I'm kidding! You don't need that shit."
He pulled her over to the bench where his bag was, pulling out a bottle of water and handing it to her with a stern expression on his face.
"Drink that you alcoholic . You need to look like you haven't been inhaling booze all night. Was it wine?" He guessed as he held the water bottle up to her mouth, not pulling his hand away till she had started drinking it .
Neither of them noticing their friends gaping at their interaction from the middle of the pitch.
"Are you seeing this? Is kylian actually laughing and smiling at her?" Ramos couldn't believe it.
Neymar was blinking at them in disbelief "but he's calling her stupid all of the time!"
Lionel had a knowing smile on his lips as he looked smugly at them. Knowing that he had been right all along.
"Some people show love by bullying each other. Has kylian ever let anybody else other than him say a bad word about her?" He rose a brow slyly.
They all shook their head.
Ramos even grimaced.
"I made a joke once that she could make a nun swear with how annoying she is.." he inhaled deeply preparing himself to recall that awful day.
"-and kylian had me benched for three games. Coach told me that he 'recommended it' it to him an hour after I said that joke to her." He muttered. Still a little pissy about it.
There were some laughs between the players .
Neymar then piped up with his own memory.
“I tried to ask her on a date a couple of times but every time I tried to ask her , he would trip me up. Literally come out of nowhere and kick my leg out from underneath me!" He exclaimed as he realised that perhaps kylian wasn't just joking around with him.
That he had actually been jealous and made sure that he had absolutely no chance with her.
Lionel grinned "see? Only he can insult her. And only Cherrie can do the same to him. What did she do when neymar told kylian that he was a shit player with his left foot?" He pressed knowingly .
Neymar's frown deepened as the rest snickered at the reminder of that day.
“She then shoved me and told me to keep my feet planted on the floor unless I wanted to lose my pretty face." He grumbled .
Lionel then looked a Ramos who was already scowling , knowing what he was about to say next.
"And what about you huh? What did she do when you called kylian an asshole?"
Ramos sighed in defeat "she stole all my clothes while I was in the shower so I had to leave the stadium in a tiny towel.."
Then all their eyes averted back to the two young players that they had been convinced hated each other all this time.
Kylian was pulling at her hair as she slapped at his hands to get him to stop.
He only let go when she threatened to call his mother.
"I'm gonna go blonde again." He told her seriously as he then passed her a protein bar once she was done with the water.
It was a chocolate and raspberry one, her favourite. She refused to eat them unless they were covered in chocolate . So he had bought the whole box of them and always had one in his bag for her during training, knowing how she always forgot to bring one.
Cherries face lit up, gasping a little as she slapped his excitedly.
"Can I do it? I've still got some bleach left at home!" She pleaded to him. Having fancied herself a hairdresser to all of her friends .
Kylian pulled a face as he jokingly eyed her messy hair that was placed in a sloppy ponytail ontop of her head. He could still see the odd pink streak from where she had dyed it last time.
He had suggested she colour it blue .
So she did what was expected and went pink instead .
"The last time I watched you dye your hair you looked like someone has threw up a fucked up rainbow on you! It was a mess for weeks Cherrie! You were crying!" He recalled with a amused tone of voice .
Cherrie scowled "that was a ... slight mistake yes. But I fixed it and I looked great!" She defended her skills quickly .
Kylian looked at her with wide eyes "you had to cut off half off it! You complained the whole time!" He knew she did because he was the one who had to cut it for her .
"Whatever . You'll look stupid anyways.." she lied as she turned away from him grumpily . Not happy that she wasn't getting her own way.
Kylian smirked to himself , chuckling as he grabbed onto her elbow and spun her around to face him again.
Leaning his face down closer to hers , he gently nudged her nose with his.
“So stupid that you wouldn't let me leave your bed for the whole weekend the last time I dyed it?" He reminded her smugly .
Pinching her bottom between his fingers quickly , making her hiss between her teeth at him , startled.
Rolling her eyes at his cocky face , she huffed. "I don't know what you're talking about. You're loca." She denied him as she tried to pull away.
Kylian just laughed and bent his head down , kissing her square on the mouth in front of everyone without a care in the world .
Too lost in each other to notice the gaping mouths of their teammates as the pitch filled with shocked gasps at the sight of the two players who were always fighting , now kissing each other.
Only Lionel was grinning triumphantly , looking between his friends smugly . Unsurprised.
"Told you they're in love. They just love to hate each other. It's just another game they're playing." He chuckled as he watched kylian try to pull her back in for another kiss again, only for Cherrie knock out his knee from below him so he went tumbling down to the ground instead.
Cackling to herself as she gently kicked him in the butt before blowing him a kiss and jogging away.
Leaving kylian to lay on his back and let out a long and hard sigh.
Turning his head and finally noticing his teammates's shocked expressions , he simply grinned like a lovesick idiot.
"That's my future wife! She's fucking crazy!" He laughed to himself as he pushed himself back up to his feet and cupped his hands around his mouth so his voice would echo.
"je t'aime vous femme folle! N'oubliez pas de porter la robe rouge ce soir!" He shouted over to her.
(I love you you crazy woman! Don't forget to wear the red dress tonight!)
Cherrie just stuck up her middle finger over her shoulder and yelled back "va te faire foutre je porte la robe noire maintenant!" While grinning cheekily.
(Fuck you! I’m wearing the black dress now!)
Kylian shook his head at her , placing his hands on his hips with a frown.
"dites-le maintenant!"
(Say it back now!)
Cherrie giggled as she shook her head no "je ne mentirai pas!" I won't lie she joked .
Before taking one look at kylian's face and hauling her ass across the pitch with a loud laugh as he started sprinting after her.
"dis moi que tu m'aimes! sinon pas de film ce soir !" He threatened her as he tackled her down to the floor , wrapping his arms around her chest and locking his legs around her hips as he pulled her back against his chest tightly .
(Say you love me otherwise no movie tonight!)
Using his free handle to tickle her , laughing as she started shrieking and trying to wiggle away.
Paying no mind to their gobsmacked friends who looked like they were watching pigs fly in front of them.
Instead his eyes never left cherrie's, beaming down at her when she finally huffed and threw her head back against his shoulder so she could meet his eyes .
Gently kissing his jaw with a soft smile , she then jokingly bit at his chin to make him laugh again.
"je t'aime connard ! pouvons-nous regarder le match de la ville à la place ? mon joueur préféré est debout ce soir..." she bit down on her bottom lip mischievously as she watched his face fall flat .
Pursing his lips with a huff through his nose before he threw her off his lap , slapping her butt hard as she cackled like a mad woman on the pitch Next to him.
(I love you asshole! But can we watch the city match instead? My favourite player is up tonight..."
"I change my mind! I don't love you anymore!" He declared . Getting to his feet and kicking her ass with his foot one more time before stomping off.
Leaving Cherrie to giggle to herself as she quickly ran after him and threw herself onto his back. Wrapping her arms around his neck as he automatically grabbed the back of her thighs so she wouldn't fall off.
Pressing her cheek against his own as he side eyed her with a raise of his brow . His smile threatening to break through the longer she grinned at him cheekily.
"Only kidding . I'm my favourite player Ky. How does teenager ninja turtles sound?" She said instead.
Kylian rolled his eyes , laughing despite himself as he started heading over to their friends.
"Fuck you. It's a good job you're pretty because you need to work on your personality some more!"
Cherrie slapped his head making him laugh "ass!"
Then she smiled at their friends when they stopped in front of them. Looking at their wide eyes and gaping mouths , she tilted her head at them curiously.
"Hey guys! What's got you guys looking like you just saw god?" She inquired not bothering to get down from his back. Far too lazy to stand and kylian was more than content in holding her.
Ramos looked between them blankly .
“You're kidding right?" He said.
Kylian frowned "what do you mean? What's wrong?" He played innocent . Chuckling at the looks that they were giving them.
Neymar gasped "what's wrong?! What's wrong is that we thought you guys hated each other!" He exclaimed as he wondered how they had missed the signs .
But to be fair to them they did act like they were going to kill each other half the time!
Lionel cleared his throat and sent them all a pointed look. "I am not included in that 'we' . I told you all ages ago but you didn't believe me!" He shot at them smugly .
He was always right .
The pair of them just casually shrugged as though they had no clue what they were on about .
Kylian smiled in amusement as he kissed her arm that was wrapped around his neck. Seeing the thin gold bracelet with his initials on around her wrist.
He kissed that too.
"I don't hate her she just annoys the life out of me sometimes. Plus we made up months ago and started over.." he informed them casually .
Cherrie pinched his cheek with a yawn. "Feels mutual asshole." She then looked over at the group with a frown. "I thought you guys knew?"
Ramos couldn't have scoffed any louder if he tried .
Blinking at her like she has grown a third head. "Obviously not! You two are permanently insulting each other ! That doesn't scream 'we're in love!' Oh my god!" He shook his head rapidly once he saw the matching smirks on their faces .
"You know what? You two weird fuckers deserve each other because you're both insane . That's the only explanation!" He exclaimed absolutely done with their shit.
"Most people who are in love hold each others hands or hug or .. smile at each other! They're at least nice to each other!" Neymar gaped at them.
Cherrie grinned "I am nice to him .. when we get home! What do you want me to do? Fuck him on the pitch?" She joked as she leant forward And kissed kylian's cheek happily.
Kylian laughed as he wiggled his brows at her cheekily.
Ramos looked at them like they were insane. "You could at least be nice to each other when you're not at home as well!" He said , baffled by how their relationship worked.
Both of them pulled a face like he was the one who had suggested something stupid.
"Why would we do that?" Kylian sounded genuinely confused at the thought .
“It's much funnier to piss each other off. We're just joking about. We know that. It's just our thing." He said like it was totally normal to have insult competitions with the one you love.
Cherrie hummed in agreement , smiling genuinely.
“Yeah. Kylian knows that I don't think he's a stupid , air headed . Arrogant asshole with two left feet and no brain." She laughed "don't you babe?"
Kylian nodded with a giggle "exactly . That's her way of saying that I'm an idiot but she loves me anyway. Just like me calling her a stupid , careless , brainless woman means that i think shes doing something stupid but I love her anyways." He explained to them as though it was simple .
Even Lionel looked at them a little weirdly . Awkwardly clearing his throat when a minute passed by with their teammates just gaping at them.
"Well... I can't say i get it because I don't but if you two are happy..." he looked between them warily.
They both beamed. Holding eachother close.
"We are." Kylian nodded his head as Cherrie finally slid off his back. Pinching his butt on her way down. He kicked hers in response .
Cherrie grinned as well "very happy."
Lionel just sighed and smiled at them. Patting both of them on their backs .
"Then I'm happy for you guys. Just maybe try not to fight each other on the pitch again?" He suggested lightly to them .
Kylian just smirked "you're right. I'll just wrestle her in bed instead!" He then burst into laughter as Cherrie shoved at his shoulder in scolding .
Leaving their friends to sigh as they watched the couple start to shove at each other and bicker about who was the fastest out of the two of them before beggining to race each other down the pitch.
Kylian tripping her up halfway .
Cherrie then grabbing at his ankle and pulling him down with her like a pair of bad behaved children .
"It's never going to stop is it?" Ramos sighed.
Both neymar and Lionel shook their head .
"They'll have eachother in a headlock at the alter." Lionel muttered with a amused snort as they all watched Cherrie pants him.
Kylian gasping loudly and quickly pulling up his shorts again before running after her. Threatening to rip her thong off and make it into a armband.
Neymar chuckled "wedlock... headlock.."
They both looked at him with deadpan expressions making him raise his brows with a slight pout.
"Okay. Okay geez!"
Silence .
Then "do you think they'll last?" Ramos asked.
As Lionel looked at the way they were having the time of their lives with each other , acting like their true selves without any worry of the other one getting upset or judging them.
He nodded his head.
"They say that you're truly in love when you can act like a kid around someone without them judging you. And look at them.." he motioned towards the couple that were wrestling on the floor again with a sigh.
"They act like two naughty little kids when they're together . They're happy." He simply observed .
"And they're both very weird and might need to see a therapist but.." he then shrugged "they obviously love each other and just because we don't understand it doesn't mean that they don't."
His friends nodded in agreement .
Silence.
Then "I think Cherrie will wear the suit at the wedding." Neymar said.
Ramos laughed "obviously . It isn't kylian that's wearing those pants..!" He grinned as they watched Cherrie pat down kylian's clothes that were now covered in mud and scold him for shoving them both into the puddle.
Kylian just let her smack the back of his head with a grin on his face, his eyes never leaving her as he reached for her hand and interlaced their fingers together . Promising her that he would hand clean them himself .
And they might not have understood the way they loved but it wasn't their relationship to understand.
They clearly loved each other. That was all that mattered .
No matter how strange their love was.
soft
synopsis: girls with cute tummies and soft thighs and extra chub in different places can also date hot popstar boys okay? okay.
word count: 2.1 k
contains: plus size reader, non au harry, fluff, mentions of body image and insecurities, harry being obsessed with his girlfriend
A/N: the start of a new thing called 'soft girl sundays' which I'm starting !! i wrote this for wp a few months ago but it's one of my fave things I've written so I'm re-posting it here. it's cheesy and fun and harry's obsessed with his girl !! i know for a lot of us girlies sometimes it feels like we take up too much space and we're always made to feel smaller mentally, physically, in every way really but you have much of a right to be here as everyone else so take up alllll the space u need !! women are beautiful and majestic no matter their size 💘
. . .
My girls' in the audience tonight.
I look past the curtain across the stage and see her in the VIP section.
Even without the stage lights shining on her, she's glowing.
She's wearing a shirt with my initials stitched over her heart and every time she lifts her arms, I see her soft tummy and the dimples on her back when she spins. Her thick thighs are on show as she wears the smallest pink skirt known to man. Her hair falls past her shoulder and down her back and her cute cheeks turn pink as she smiles when she speaks to some of the team who stand with her.
She's the living embodiment of the divine feminine and I can't ever seem to get over the fact that she's all mine.
The music begins to play and I watch as her face lights up with excitement. She's seen this show over a few dozen times but she never fails to be just as excited as the first time she saw me walk on stage with a hickey on my neck that she'd put there moments before.
When it's my queue, I skip onto the stage and my ears nearly burst as the sound of people screaming over the music starts to fill the stadium. She's smiling, she's cheering, she's singing the words to every single song. She's so pretty and she's all I see.
When the show ends, I walk backstage to my dressing room. Normally I'd run into a car and get the Hell out of there before crowds of people start to fill up the streets to get home, but this time, Y/N was here and I knew how much anxiety she felt whenever we had to rush to be somewhere.
I walked in and accepted the compliments from my team after another successful show. Paris was a city I held close to me so it was always a fun time when we played.
I gulped down a glass of water and felt arms snake around my waist. I immediately grinned when I saw the lilac-painted nails that matched my very own. I feel her nuzzle her face into my back before I twist in her embrace and look into the eyes of the girl I love with everything in me.
"Hi baby," I whisper, stroking her cheek that still had glitter on it.
"Hi Harry," Y/N murmurs, her eyes tired but full of happiness.
"Y' okay?" I hold her, feeling her soft skin beneath my hand. She was so soft and cuddly.
"I'm okay." She smiles, lazily. "You did so good up there. I nearly cried,"
I laugh, "You always nearly cry."
"That's because I'm proud of you." She shrugs.
We sit on the couch and she straddles my lap, her skirt riding up and I nearly choke when I catch a glimpse of her lacy underwear. I put my hands on her thighs and squeeze them softly. "You excited for our trip tomorrow?" I asked, staring at her lips and suddenly feeling the temptation to kiss them. I did and she happily accepted.
We had a few days before the next show so we decided to head down to the South of France and spend a few days in Nice. We haven't been on a trip together in a while other than the tour locations so we made the most of the little time we had in between shows to spend as much time as we could together.
She nods, "I bought a new swimsuit just for the occasion."
I groan, my head falling back against the couch, "You kill me."
She giggles, "love you."
I immediately smile. "I love you too," I kiss her.
The morning after the show, we woke up early to make our flight down to Nice. Y/N whines the entire time because she's not a morning person and refuses to step one foot out of bed until I force her.
She sleeps on my chest the entire journey there, wearing an oversized hoodie with the hood up. "My whole heart is inside y'." I murmur as her cheek presses against my chest and makes her lips all pouty, light snores falling from them. I lightly push some of her baby hairs back from her face and trace my thumb over the soft skin of her cheek.
We arrive and head straight to our room at the hotel to drop our bags off before heading to the beach. Y/N immediately opens the doors to the balcony and gasps when she looks out at the view. "Harry, it's beautiful," Y/N says in awe.
I come up behind her and wrap my arms around her tummy, squeezing the softest part of her. I loved all the parts of her but her tummy was my absolute favourite. She always complained about it. How it stuck out when she wore tight clothing and even more so after eating. 'Harry I already have a tummy? Why punish me further by making it bigger after I eat? Seems unfair don't you think?' I'd spend the whole journey home telling her how beautiful she looked and how I loved watching her enjoy the food she loves and then I'd hold her in bed and run circles on her little, bloated belly because I had made it my life's mission to show as much love to the little chub of a tummy she had.
I pull on my swim shorts and a white linen shirt, leaving the buttons undone. I pack my beach bag for our beach towels and my book as well as my film camera and sun lotion.
Y/N walks out of the bathroom. Her hair in loose curls from the heat and her face already sunkissed and pretty. My mouth falls open when I take in the small, blue bikini on her body, revealing her soft curves and every perfect inch of her.
"Do you like it?" She blushes, acting like she's not the hottest girl I've ever seen in my entire life.
It tied at her waist and around her neck, my immediate thought being how easy it would be to take it off her and spend the entire day in bed, making out or whatever. I honestly couldn't care less as long as she's there.
"Baby," I dropped the bag on the floor and made my way towards her, pinching her chin between my thumb and forefinger and tilting her head back so I could kiss her at the perfect angle.
She whines and the sound nearly has me dropping to my knees. "You're fucking unbelievable."
"You really think so?" She bites back a smile, "You don't think I need to hide my stretch marks?" My heart aches at how unsure she sounded, the fact she even had to ask made me want to pick her up and kiss each stretch mark on her body.
"No, my love," I shake my head, kissing the stretch marks at the top of her left breast and feeling her heart racing at the delicate touch. "You have absolutely nothing to hide from anybody. Y' beautiful and you're mine,"
She smiles and kisses me again.
We head down to the beach to the reserved sunbeds. Y/N lays out her towel and sits down to apply sun cream to her arms and legs. I help her do her back, massaging her shoulders and trying not to combust as she rolls her head to the side and moans at the feeling.
I literally have a crush on this woman.
And she's my fucking girlfriend.
What did I do to get this lucky in life?
"Let's go in the water baby," I held her hand and we walked to the water, stepping in together.
She wraps her arms and legs around me when we're deep enough in the water. I squeeze her ass and she gasps, swatting me gently. "What?" I look at her innocently.
"There's people watching." She hides her face in my neck and I turn us both around to catch sight of the paparazzi hiding behind the trees and snapping pictures of us.
I release a sigh and pull her face back to get a better look at her. If there was one thing that could make my girlfriend second guess herself, it was the paparazzi constantly posting her pictures online and allowing people to berate her for how she looked.
"Please don't let them ruin your day my love," I kiss her shoulder, still holding her in my arms. "I promise, you're the prettiest girl I've ever seen."
"You promise?" She pouts.
"Feel this," I reach for her hand and guide her to the small bit of chub on my hip.
She gasps, "You have chub too!"
I rolled my eyes but smiled at the same time, her excitement was adorable. "Everyone's got something they're insecure about. No matter how hard I've tried I can't seem to get rid of it, maybe it's from all the cakes you've been making but how am I meant to say no to such a pretty face?"
She squeals in delight when I pinch her sides and giggles as I press kisses to her face. "Wanna go and sunbathe for a little, baby?" She nods and we both walk out of the water so she can sit in the sun for a bit.
I spend more time in the water and come out to find Y/N verging on the brink of sleep. I smirk as I crawl between her legs and lay between her thighs, sighing softly as I turn my head away from the sun and press a kiss to her inner thigh. She reaches down and runs her fingers through my wet hair, her nails scratching my scalp.
After midday, I order food to be sent up to our room. Y/N's passed out on the sunbed so I gently shake her awake, "Hi baby," Her pretty eyes flutter open, "Need you to drink something darling, you've been in the sun for a while." She slowly sits up and rubs her eyes with the back of her hand. I unscrew the cap of the water bottle and pass it to her, watching as she almost drinks the whole thing.
"I got us room service to be delivered. Want to head back upstairs for a bit?" Her cheeks were red and her hair was all frizzy due to the humidity. She nodded and we packed our things up and made our way back to our hotel room.
Our food was already laid out on the balcony by the time we walked into the room. I had left the air conditioning on so the room was nice and cool since Y/N struggled to sleep when it was too hot and stuffy.
She was wearing my linen shirt over her bikini and I couldn't help but stare at her ass as I followed her to the table outside.
There was fruit, bread and pastries laid out on a spread at the table as well as a glass of red wine and some orange juice. Y/N sat on one of the chairs with one leg hitched up as she ate some of her baguette and cheese, her favourite snack to eat when we were in France.
"Are you having fun, my love?" I asked, taking a bite of fresh watermelon.
She nods quickly, "It's the best. Anytime with you is always the best,"
"Come sit here," I motion and move my chair out, patting my thigh. She doesn't hesitate and stands up to sit down on my lap.
I kissed the back of her neck and put one hand on her hip, my thumb traced the edge of the waistband of her bikini bottoms, slipping under the material to trail soft circles over her hip bones.
"I'm keeping you forever, I hope you know that," I murmur, appreciating this intimate moment between us which didn't happen as often as I liked them to but we made do.
"I hope so," She whispers.
I loved this girl for all she was. There is nothing in this world that could change just how much I adored her.
"Harry," She says my name, "This bikini is pretty easy to take off you know."
I choke, eyes widening and seeing the smirk on her face. I pick her up, her legs wrapping around me and her ankles locking behind my back. "Is that a challenge or a request?" I kiss her lips, tasting the saltiness of the sea on them.
"Both," She says in between kisses.
This girl.
blue+red
A/N: hello everyone! yes, I am 7 days late to kinktober, yes I'm gonna write 7 fics today lol. anyway here's the list I made!
2023 Kinktober List:
Begging, daniel x reader
Temprature Play, charles x reader
Mirror Sex, carlos x reader
Angry Sex, lando x reader (lap time got deleted at quali)
Size kink, max x reader
Hair Pulling, george russell x reader
Biting, oscar x reader
Mutual Masturbation, daniel x reader
Lingerie, pierre x reader
Strip tease, charles x reader
Dirty Talk, carlos x reader
Food Play, charles x reader
Titles, i cant choose x reader
Shower Sex, lando x reader
Against a Wall, oscar or daniel x reader
Vanilla, george russell x reader
Phone Sex, oscar x reader
Sleepy/Morning Sex, (open)
Fem!Dom, lando x reader
Lactation, daniel x reader
Blindfold, max x reader
Handcuffs, oscar x reader
Ropes, carlos x reader
Voyerism, (open)
Overstimulation, max x reader
Denial, pierre x reader
Oral (male and female receiving) lando x reader
Poly, oscar x readerx lando or max x reader x lando
Toys, charles x reader
Wearing the others clothes, oscar x reader
After Care, headcon for each
Thawed
Kimi Räikkönen x sunshine!Reader
Summary: the many times throughout the years that only the warmth of his wife could thaw the Iceman
“He’s just so … cold,” your aunt comments, wrinkling her nose at Kimi’s back as he heads to the bar. It’s the first time you’ve brought him to a family event.
You bristle, prepared to defend your new boyfriend. “He’s not cold once you get to know him. He’s just a private person.”
Your aunt sniffs. “Still, he barely said two words all night. And that nickname — the Iceman! I don’t like it.”
You straighten your spine. “Well I do. His thoughtfulness and loyalty outweigh any lack of words.”
As you speak, you feel your doubts about mismatched personalities fade. Opposites attract for a reason.
Your aunt looks unconvinced, but you pay her no mind. You’re falling for the quiet Finn with a heart of gold. And you won’t let anyone’s disapproval chill that flame.
When Kimi returns, you lean up and kiss his cheek fondly. He looks pleasantly surprised. Let them judge. You see the real man inside.
***
“Smash it! Smash it!” The rowdy groomsman chants as you and Kimi cut into your wedding cake.
Other guests take up the chant, clamoring for Kimi to shove cake in your face per tradition. But you had quietly asked him not to — you don’t want frosting up your nose and ruining your makeup on your wedding day.
Kimi’s eyes meet yours, a silent question. You give a slight shake of your head. His expression hardens with resolve.
In one smooth motion, he whirls and smashes the slice of cake directly into the rowdy groomsman’s face. Icing splatters everywhere. The room goes silent.
“Here you go, since you seem to want the cake smashed so bad,” Kimi says coldly.
The groomsman splutters in shock. You have to hide your smile behind your hand.
Kimi winks at you as he licks icing off his fingers. “Now, where were we?”
Heart swelling, you lean in to kiss your wonderful, cake-covered husband. No one gets in the way of your wishes on your wedding day.
***
The paddock is bustling with activity as you make your way through the crowds, weaving between mechanics and engineers going about their race day routines. The smells of rubber and gasoline hang thick in the air. You smile and nod at familiar faces, receiving knowing looks in return.
Everyone here knows who you are — the bubbly, outgoing wife of the Iceman himself. The unlikely pairing has been the talk of Formula 1 ever since you started dating a few years ago. You’re warm and chatty. He’s cool and laconic. But somehow, it works.
You find Kimi in the Ferrari motorhome, sipping an energy drink, game face on. His brows are furrowed in concentration, icy grey eyes focused straight ahead. You know not to disturb him right now. This is business time.
Slipping into the seat beside him, you pull out your phone and scroll aimlessly, letting the comfortable silence stretch between you. The hustle and noise of the paddock fades into the background.
Finally, Kimi drains the last drops from his can and crushes it in his hand. He turns to you, the stern expression melting away. His eyes soften and the corners of his mouth tick upward ever so slightly.
“Morning,” he says quietly, voice gravelly.
You beam at him. “Good morning, love. Ready to go racing today?”
He nods, the hint of a smile still playing on his lips. “Did you sleep okay?”
“I did, thanks to my very comfy race driver pillow.” You wink.
Kimi snorts, the creases around his eyes deepening. He leans in and presses a quick kiss to your temple.
Around you, mechanics and team members try and fail to pretend they aren’t glancing your way, still not used to seeing the Iceman so openly affectionate. But Kimi doesn’t seem to notice or care.
“I’ll see you after,” he says, standing up and giving your hand a squeeze. His face settles back into cool concentration as he strides out to prepare for the race.
You settle in to watch qualifying, heart swelling with pride and love for your Finnish fireball.
***
“Kimi, the stewards want to speak with you about the incident with Perez on lap 37.”
Kimi’s jaw clenches, eyes flashing. “Typical,” he mutters.
You touch his arm reassuringly. “Go on, I’ll wait here for you.”
He nods, striding off to the steward’s office, race suit half unzipped and hair disheveled. You know he’ll be lucky to escape without a penalty. Kimi has never been one to mince words or hide his displeasure with other drivers. You can only imagine the icy staredown happening behind those closed doors right now.
Twenty minutes later, he emerges looking ready to smash a table. You jump up and hurry over.
“Well? What did they say?”
Kimi’s scowl deepens, if that’s even possible. “Ten second penalty. Ridiculous.” He spits out something in Finnish you’re glad you don’t understand.
“Oh, I’m so sorry. You drove brilliantly today.”
He shakes his head and stalks down the hall towards the paddock. You scurry after him, nearly jogging to match his long angry strides.
“Forget it. Not your fault the stewards are blind.”
You slip your hand into his, lacing your fingers together. Immediately you feel some of the tension leave his body. He glances down at you, the hint of a smile breaking through the thunderclouds.
“Let’s get out of here,” you say gently. “I’ll make you your favorite dinner, open a nice bottle of wine ...”
He nods, expression softening. “Okay. Sounds good.”
You smile up at him, giving his hand a squeeze. The stormy Finn may have a heart of ice on the track, but you know better. He just needs a little sunshine sometimes.
***
You pause in the kitchen doorway, heart melting at the scene before you. Kimi sits on the living room floor, your baby niece perched happily in his lap. He bounces her gently on his knee as she squeals with delight, the hint of a smile on his usually stoic face.
“Faster Unca Kimi, faster!” She cries, unruly curls flying.
He chuckles and picks up the pace, eliciting delighted giggles from her. Your sister watches nearby, still looking a bit bemused at seeing the Iceman so good natured and playful.
Finally Kimi stops, feigning exhaustion. “Whew, that’s enough for Uncle Kimi,” he says, lifting her up and pretending to wipe sweat from his brow. “You’re too fast!”
She dissolves into giggles and wraps her tiny arms around his neck in a hug. He hugs her back, looking more content than you’ve ever seen him. Your heart feels fit to burst.
“Who wants ice cream?” You announce, carrying in two bowls.
“Me, me!” Your niece starts to squirm in Kimi’s lap, reaching eagerly for her treat.
He stands, swinging her up easily onto his shoulders. “Let’s go have ice cream on the porch, give your mama a break,” he says. She kicks her little legs gleefully.
Your sister shoots you a grateful smile as Kimi carries her outside. You grin and wink. Who would believe it — the Iceman, a big softie for kids. But you know better. Under that cool exterior beats a heart of gold.
***
The crowds pressing around the circuit are suffocating today. Fans shove programs and merch at you for Kimi to sign. One overzealous teenage boy tries to wrap you in an uninvited hug.
Suddenly Kimi is there, gently but firmly detaching the boy’s hands from your arms. His face is thunderous.
“Back. Off.” The boy stumbles away wide-eyed.
Kimi keeps a protective grip on your shoulder as he marches you briskly from the paddock. Once inside the privacy of the motorhome, he cups your face in his hands.
“Are you okay? Did he hurt you?” His tone is urgent.
You shake your head, still a bit shaken. “Just got grabby. Thank you for the rescue.”
Kimi exhales, pressing his forehead to yours. “I don’t like you getting swarmed out there.”
You smile wryly. “Hazards of being Mrs. Iceman.”
He brushes his thumb over your cheek. “I just want to keep you safe. Those crowds make me nervous.”
You kiss him softly. “I’ll be okay.”
His eyes bore into yours, icy blue melting into tenderness. “Still. Stay close to me out there from now on. So I can protect what’s most precious.”
Your heart flutters under his intent gaze. You lace your fingers through his, feeling infinitely cherished.
“Always.”
***
“Kimi, your phone is ringing again,” you call from the couch.
He doesn’t respond, gaze fixed intently on the TV as he navigates a difficult turn in his racing video game. The phone buzzes angrily on the coffee table.
With a sigh, you reach for it. The caller ID says “Bane of My Existence.” You frown. That’s the third call from her this week that he’s ignored.
“Kimi ...”
“Hmm?” He pauses the game and glances at you, eyebrows raised.
You hold up the phone. “It’s your PR officer again. Don’t you think you should answer and see what she wants?”
His expression clouds over. “No. Told her not to call me anymore.”
“Oh? Why’s that?” You keep your tone light and curious.
He shrugs. “Kept trying to get me to do stuff. Go to parties and all that.”
You bite back a smile, warmth flooding your chest. Your shy homebody of a husband, sought after on the celebrity circuit but wanting none of it.
“Well, I’m glad she hasn’t lured you away yet,” you tease gently.
The corners of his mouth quirk up as he takes the phone from you and sets it aside before pulling you into his lap.
“Don’t worry,” he rumbles, nudging your nose with his. “You’re the only party I need.”
You kiss him softly, heart overflowing. The glitz and glam means nothing to your Kimi. Home is where his heart is.
***
You awake to whispered voices and the smell of something burning. Bleary-eyed, you shuffle to the kitchen doorway.
Kimi stands at the stove, hair endearingly mussed from sleep. He’s scowling down at a frying pan, clutching a spatula like a weapon. Your brother leans against the counter, trying and failing to stifle laughter.
“What’s going on?” You ask through a yawn.
Kimi’s scowl deepens. “Trying to make you breakfast. Not going well.” He prods the blackened lump in the pan disdainfully.
Your brother snorts. “He nearly set off the fire alarm. I got here just in time.”
“I told you I don’t cook,” Kimi mutters, avoiding your gaze.
You pad over and wrap your arms around him from behind, pressing a kiss between his shoulder blades. “It’s the thought that counts. Thank you, love.”
He relaxes back into your embrace. Your brother mimes gagging behind his back. You stick out your tongue at him.
“Here, I’ll show you,” you say, gently prying the spatula from Kimi’s hand. “Just go slow ...”
Soon, the three of you are gathered around the table, eating the pancakes you made together. Kimi’s are a bit misshapen, but edible.
He looks inordinately pleased as you sample his. “Good?”
You beam at him and squeeze his hand. “The very best.”
His rare unguarded smile warms you more deeply than any breakfast ever could.
***
You awaken to the dipping of the mattress as Kimi slips under the covers. The red glow of his bedside clock reads 3:48 AM.
“Everything okay?” You murmur, rolling over to face him.
He wraps an arm around you, pulling you close against his chest. You feel the steady thump of his heart under your palm.
“Yeah. Couldn’t sleep.” His voice rumbles low near your ear.
You nuzzle into him, breathing in the familiar scent of his skin. “Worrying about the race this weekend?”
He exhales, his breath stirring your hair. “No. Just thinking.”
When he doesn’t elaborate, you lift your head to study his face in the dimness. His eyes shine in the faint light, gazing at you with an intensity that makes your own heart skip.
“What is it?” You whisper.
He brushes a strand of hair from your face, his callused fingers infinitely tender. “Sometimes I still can’t believe you’re here. That you’re mine.”
Emotion swells in your chest, words escaping you. You cup his stubbled face and guide his lips down to yours in a soft, lingering kiss.
When you finally draw apart, he pulls you close again, tucking your head under his chin. No more words are needed. You understand each other perfectly in the quiet spaces between heartbeats. Soon his breathing evens out in sleep, and you follow him down, still nestled safe in the circle of his arms.
***
You’re just drizzling the last of the chocolate over the molten lava cakes when you hear Kimi’s keys in the front door. A smile spreads across your face. Perfect timing.
He wanders in a few moments later, hair adorably rumpled, eyes lighting up when he sees you.
“Mmm, something smells good,” he says, crossing the kitchen to wrap you in a hug.
You kiss his scratchy cheek. “Made your favorite for dessert. Now go get cleaned up while I finish.”
He squeezes you tighter, stubble tickling your neck as he nuzzles into it. “Can’t I have you for dessert instead?”
You swat his shoulder playfully. “Go on, you. Plenty of time for that later.”
He steals one more kiss before sauntering off, a grin playing about his lips. You shake your head, unable to stop smiling. After all these years, he still makes your heart race as if you’re teenagers again.
When he returns, you’ve set out the seared salmon, roasted vegetables, and the two perfect chocolate lava cakes. His eyes light up.
“Have I told you lately that you’re the best wife ever?” He asks, pulling out your chair.
“Hmm, I think you could stand to mention it more,” you tease.
He takes your hand, brushing his thumb over your knuckles. His eyes pierce yours. “You’re the best wife ever,” he says solemnly.
You lean in and kiss him, happiness bubbling up inside you. However many times he says it, you’ll never get tired of hearing it.
***
“So, what’s it like being married to the grumpiest driver on the grid?” The reporter shoves a microphone in your face, invasive and smug.
You recoil, blindsided. “Excuse me?”
“Come on, he’s not exactly Mr. Personality.” The reporter leans closer. “Does the Iceman thaw out at home or just freeze you out?”
Humiliation burns through you. Before you can respond, Kimi is there, gently moving you aside. His eyes are blazing.
“Don’t you dare talk about my wife like that,” he growls at the reporter. “You know nothing about our life.”
The reporter withers under Kimi’s icy glare. You feel a rush of gratitude for your protective husband.
Kimi turns to you, face softening. “Let’s get out of here.”
Once you’re alone, he brushes a strand of hair from your face. “Sorry you had to deal with that. He had no right to badger you about our marriage.”
You lean into him, safe in the circle of his arms. “It’s okay. You came to my rescue like a knight in shining racing gear.”
He snorts. “Hardly a knight. But for you, always.” He kisses you tenderly.
No matter what the media says, your life together is not theirs to define. Your love writes its own quiet story each day.
***
You awake in the dark to a loud crash from downstairs. Heart pounding, you shake Kimi’s shoulder.
“Kimi, wake up! I think someone’s broken in.”
He’s up in an instant, alert and poised to strike. You hear footsteps creeping up the stairs. Kimi pushes you behind him and grabs the baseball bat by the bed.
The footsteps reach the landing and a shadowy figure appears in the doorway. Kimi flicks on the light, bat raised menacingly. You both freeze.
It’s Sebastian Vettel, eyes wide, hands raised in surrender. “Whoa whoa, it’s just me!”
Kimi’s shoulders slump as he lowers the bat. “Seb? What the hell are you doing here?”
Seb runs a hand through his messy hair. “Sorry, I didn’t mean to scare you. I was in town and my rental car broke down outside. I was hoping I could crash here tonight.”
Kimi sighs, shaking his head. “You couldn’t call first?”
Seb grins sheepishly. “Forgot to charge my phone.”
You step out from behind Kimi, laying a hand on his arm. “It’s fine, love. Let’s get some fresh sheets for the guest room.” You turn to Seb. “We’ll figure out your car in the morning.”
Seb’s shoulders sag in relief. “Thanks, I really owe you guys.”
As you make up the bed, you share an amused look with Kimi. Only Seb could turn up unannounced in the middle of the night and get away with it. But then again, that’s why you love him.
***
You’re waiting at the finish line, heart in your throat as the cars scream past for the final lap. Kimi is battling for a podium finish, but has fallen back after a poorly timed pit stop. He’s gaining ground fast, but is he out of time?
The crowd roars as the frontrunners cross the line. P2 … P3 … waiting for P4. Come on, Kimi.
Then you see it, the red and white Alfa Romeo flashing past the checkered flag, narrowly clinching third. You leap in the air, cheering loudly. Kimi did it!
You rush down towards the pits, arriving just as Kimi climbs from his car. His race suit is drenched, hair plastered to his forehead, but his eyes are bright. When he spots you, a grin breaks across his face.
You throw your arms around him, heedless of how sweaty he is. “You were amazing! I’m so proud of you.”
He lifts you off your feet in a bear hug, laughing breathlessly in your ear. The sound sends joy bursting through your veins.
As he sets you down, you cradle his stubbled face in your hands. “I love you,” you say fiercely.
His grin softens to something more tender. He tilts his forehead against yours, heedless of the crowds milling nearby.
“Love you too,” he murmurs.
The cameras flash around you, eager to capture this rare unguarded moment. But Kimi only has eyes for you. Third place has never felt so golden.
***
“Ugh, your wife is so annoyingly positive all the time. It’s nauseating,” the other driver’s girlfriend gripes to Kimi at a race afterparty.
You freeze mid-laugh, stung by her disdainful tone. Kimi’s eyes narrow dangerously.
“I would rather have a positive wife than a miserable cow like you,” he says coldly. “Come on, let’s go.”
He takes your arm and steers you firmly away. You blink back tears, embarrassed.
“Hey,” Kimi says softly, tilting your chin up. “Don’t listen to her. I love how positive you are. Don’t let anyone make you feel bad for spreading joy.”
You give a watery chuckle. “Really? You don’t find it annoying?”
“Are you kidding? Your light balances out my darkness perfectly.” He punctuates this with a swift kiss. “You keep me from being a constant grump.”
You laugh and swat his chest. “Impossible. No one can tame the Iceman’s grumpiness.”
He smiles tenderly and pulls you close. “You do. Don’t change for anyone else.”
***
You pace the bathroom floor, heart racing. The little white stick sits innocently on the counter, but its result will change everything. One blue line for negative, two for positive.
Three minutes have never felt so long.
When the timer finally beeps, you take a deep breath and turn it over with a shaky hand. Two blue lines stare back at you.
Positive.
Emotions swell within you — joy, nervousness, excitement. You and Kimi have been trying for a baby, but it still feels so surreal now that it’s actually happening.
You hear the front door open and Kimi call out your name. It’s time. Clutching the test behind your back, you go to him.
He must read something in your face, because his brows furrow in concern. “Everything okay?”
Your face splits into a teary grin. “Everything’s perfect.” You bring the test out from behind you and hold it up wordlessly.
Kimi’s eyes widen. For once, the unflappable Finn seems utterly flapped. “You … we ...” He stares at the two little lines, then back at you. “We’re having a baby?”
You nod, vision blurring with happy tears. With a joyful shout, Kimi sweeps you up in his arms and spins you around. His excitement is boyish and uncontained.
When he sets you down, he cradles your face in both hands. “I’m going to be a father,” he whispers in awe.
You put your hand over his, overjoyed tears spilling down your cheeks. “You’re going to be the best father.”
***
You fidget impatiently on the exam table, Kimi’s hand clutched in yours. After months of waiting, today is your first ultrasound. If all looks well, you’ll get to see your baby for the very first time.
“What’s taking so long?” You huff. Kimi smiles and presses a kiss to your temple.
“Relax, they’ll be here soon.” His calm steadies you, as it always does.
Finally the technician arrives and asks you to lift up your shirt. She squeezes cool gel over your swelling belly and begins moving the ultrasound wand through it.
The screen comes to life, showing grainy black and white images you can’t decipher. The technician frowns, adjusting some dials. Your heart leaps into your throat.
Sensing your distress, Kimi gives your hand a reassuring squeeze. “It’s okay. Just be patient,” he murmurs.
After a few tense moments, the technician’s face clears. She turns the screen towards you with a smile. “There we are. There’s your baby.”
You gaze in wonder at the little shape filling the screen, tiny arms and legs visibly squirming. Your vision blurs with tears. That’s your child, your little miracle.
Beside you Kimi is utterly transfixed, eyes shining. “That’s our baby,” he whispers reverently.
He lifts your intertwined hands and presses his lips to your knuckles. “Thank you,” he says, voice husky with emotion. “For this gift.”
You have no words. You simply lean into him, his solid warmth anchoring you as joy washes over you both.
***
You stare glumly at your reflection in the mirror. At eight months pregnant, you feel like a beluga whale. Your ankles are swollen, your back aches constantly, and none of your clothes fit over your enormous bump anymore.
Voices sound from downstairs as Kimi arrives home. You feel tears prick your eyes. You don’t want him to see you like this, a beached whale in sweatpants.
Sniffling, you ease onto the bed and bury your face in a pillow. Kimi finds you there a few minutes later. The mattress dips as he sits down and rubs your back.
“What’s wrong, love?”
You shake your head, embarrassed. “Nothing. I’m fine.”
Gently he turns you over, brushing the hair from your damp cheeks. “Talk to me,” he says softly.
A sob escapes you. “I’m hideous like this! I’ve gotten so huge. You must be disgusted looking at me.”
Kimi’s brow furrows. He takes your chin in his hand, forcing you to meet his earnest gaze. “Is that what you think? That I find you disgusting?”
Ashamed, you drop your eyes, fresh tears spilling over.
“Look at me,” he says gently. You do. His ice blue eyes pierce yours. “You’ve never been more beautiful to me than you are right now, carrying our child.”
He places a reverent hand on your belly. “You are giving us the most precious gift in the world. How could I not find you beautiful?”
His words pierce your heart. You cover his hand with yours. “I love you,” you whisper.
He gathers you close, dropping feather-light kisses over your face. “And I love you. Always.”
You cling to him, feeling foolish and so very loved.
***
A contraction rips through you, more intense than any before. You cry out, squeezing Kimi’s hand desperately.
“Breathe, love, breathe,” he coaches, face taut.
You gasp air into your lungs as the vice grip on your insides finally releases. Kimi dabs the sweat from your brow with a cool cloth.
“You’re doing so well,” he murmurs. “Our little one will be here soon.”
Even through the haze of pain, his voice anchors you. Your Kimi, always steady as a rock.
Too soon, another contraction wrings a ragged shout from you. Kimi never leaves your side, letting you nearly crush his hand as you ride out the agony.
“I can’t … I can’t do this ...” you sob.
Kimi presses his lips to your temple. “You can. You’re the strongest person I know. I’m right here with you.”
His faith buoys you, even as your body is wracked with wave after wave of excruciating spasms. Your world narrows to the circle of his arms.
Then finally, miraculously, comes the thin, piercing cry of your child. Your exhausted tears mingle with joyful laughter.
Kimi cuts the cord with shaky hands, eyes shining brighter than you’ve ever seen. When they lay the squalling, pink bundle on your chest, the universe crystallizes to this one perfect point.
Your family, whole at last.
***
You awake in the small hours before dawn, reaching across the cool sheets only to find Kimi’s side of the bed empty. Padding down the hallway on silent feet, you peer into the nursery.
Your breath catches in your throat. Kimi stands over the crib, your tiny daughter cradled against his chest. One large hand gently supports her downy head.
He’s speaking softly to her in Finnish, too low for you to understand. But the love shining through his voice brings tears to your eyes. Your tough, taciturn Finn transformed into a doting father.
As he lays her tenderly back in the crib, you hear him murmur in a whisper, “Don’t worry little one, your isä will always protect you. I promise you that.”
He tucks the blanket snugly around her and brushes a feather-light kiss over her forehead. The tenderness of it makes your heart ache.
You slip silently back to bed before he notices you, not wanting to intrude on this private moment between father and daughter. But the image stays seared in your mind.
When Kimi joins you a few minutes later, you turn and press your face into his chest so he won’t see your tears of joy. His arms come around you reflexively.
“You okay?” He rumbles.
You nod, a lump in your throat. Your family is so very blessed.
***
The paddock is bustling with activity as you push your daughter’s stroller through the chaotic maze of the paddock. She’s only six months old, wide-eyed at all the commotion.
Mechanics pause to coo over her, their grease-smudged fingers surprisingly gentle. PR people stop to fuss and take photos. Word has spread — the Iceman’s baby girl is here.
Kimi strides over, stooping to drop a kiss on your head and tickle his daughter’s tummy. His race suit is on, grey eyes intense and focused.
“Sure you don’t want me to take her while you concentrate?” You ask.
He shakes his head, a corner of his mouth quirked up. “I need to see my two favorite girls before I drive.”
Your heart melts. Kimi scoops her up, and she clutches at his nose and gurgles. Nearby, you hear shutters clicking madly. The Iceman undone by a baby — it’ll be all over the press tonight.
But Kimi only has eyes for his daughter, face soft in a way it never is before a race. With a deep breath, he cuddles her close and murmurs something in Finnish before handing her back to you.
You kiss his cheek. “Go show them how it’s done, Daddy.”
He winks and strides off towards the pit lane, determination in his stride. Your daughter waves a chubby fist as he disappears from view.
No matter how many races he wins, now his best trophy waits for him at the finish line. His family.
***
“Must be lonely married to a man called the Iceman,” the reporter says slyly. “He’s not known for being warm and affectionate.”
Anger flashes through you. How dare this stranger imply your marriage is lacking.
“You couldn’t be more wrong,” you reply sharply. “Kimi is very attentive and loving in private.”
The reporter raises her eyebrows. “But his public image ...”
You cut her off. “That’s all it is — an image. Kimi deserves more respect than tired old stereotypes.”
Your voice softens as you glance to where Kimi is chatting with fans, his body angled protectively towards you.
“There is no one kinder or more loyal than my husband. He cherishes our family greatly, he just doesn’t flaunt it to the world.”
The reporter looks taken aback by your fervent defense. You almost feel sorry for her. She’ll never truly know the man behind the Iceman legend. But you do and you won’t tolerate anyone maligning him.
i cant believe we are losing this father son duo please this is so sad
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Femke | she/her| bi | 18+ | later comes a masterlist| REQUEST: OPEN
119 posts