LANDO -- SATURDAY, BELGIAN GP 2023

The tea is super super hot

What did she tell you sharl?

Meme king😂🤣

henry is a gemini…?

Could you please write a Price x wife! Reader where they have a really hot make out session?

because you asked so nicely... of course, darling.

nsfw! 18+ below! not sex but a lil sm sm... i'm ngl i can't write just a kiss.

i'm too nasty i think

You and your husband had never really enjoyed attending dinner parties. But because you were both so polite, the two of you had never missed a single one. Well, neither of you were ever in the mood to have your ear chewed off for saying 'no' to an invitation.

Your friend would only whine, anyway, say "But John's always away on call. We've all got to make memories together when we can!"

As if you weren't blatantly aware of your husband's frequent absences already.

"You know, we could be doin' this at home," John chuckles, following you into the bathroom and clicking the door shut behind him.

Immediately, you pounce towards him - making an accidental, louder-than-intended thud as you pressed him into the door and wrapped your arms around his neck. You both giggle like mischievous children.

"Mm, you're right. We've been saying we'll stop coming for years," you say, as his forearms encircle your waist. "I don't think we're posh enough for them, love."

"Fuck 'em."

Your lips meet soon after, in sloppy and lazy pecks as neither of you are in a rush to get back out there and converse. John's arms have a vice-like grip around your waist, but they loosen as your kiss intensifies so he can cuff a hand at the back of your neck.

You squeak at the sensation. He squeezes the spot lovingly, before he slithers his fingers upwards and scrunches at the base of your hair. When he uses your hair to tilt back your head, he leans over you further as if it would help him explore deeper with the tongue he presses into your mouth.

Your hands are no longer locked behind his neck, sliding down his chest as you weaken under his grasp and succumb to the warm feeling of your battling tongues.

John pinches at your butt with his other hand then, chuckling cheekily when you pull apart momentarily to catch your breaths. And you respond by slamming your mouths back together, teeth almost clashing against one another in your desperate movement.

The hand on your ass doesn't shift, and you reach to pull John forward by the shoulders and hook your leg around his waist. It causes you both to stumble, but you knew your skilled husband would always catch your fall. He does, but soon taps at your leg for you to put it back down, before he walks you towards the bathroom counter and lifts you onto it with little to no effort.

Situated between your legs, he connects your lips once again and uses a hand to caress your cheek.

The pooling heat between your legs slowly becomes more and more evident, and you squeeze John's hips between each of your plump thighs in search of a shred of relief.

When your mouths part, he speaks low, voice hoarse and gravelly with arousal. "Fuck, sweet. We can't keep doing this..." You watch the risks being weighed in his face, before he shakes his head and makes his decision. His eyes flick onto yours, whilst he presses three of his fingers to his tongue and coats them in saliva.

You quickly widened your legs, biting onto your lip as his hand slips beneath your dress and hooks beneath the lace covering your pussy. Fingers press between your folds and immediately find your clit, which Johnny begins to rub with desperation. You know he needs to make this quick, doesn't want to make you both look suspicious, but you can't bring yourself to give a fuck about anything outside of the four walls of the bathroom, not when his skilled fingers are stroking at your spit-soaked cunt the way they are.

John kisses you once again, swallows each sound you make as he uses the hand on your cheek to graze over your cheekbone with his thumb.

"Guys? Hello? Are you in there together? I need to piss!"

Fuck.

You were never going to another fucking dinner party again.

LISSIE AND MARCUS HARD LAUNCH

saccharine - the saloon

saccharine - aka; cowgirl!reader who teases the shit out of him x billy who 'hates' you, or so he says.

this can be read standalone!

cw; nsfw mentions, mention of piss/piss kink

The saloon is far busier than usual, but the crowd made for an exciting time in your eyes. Something was bound to happen and you wanted a front-row seat to it. 

Billy and the rest of your friends had gathered around the poker table while you leaned against the wooden bar counter, sipping on your strong drink and surveying. 

This was a new town. New faces. New excitement, it’s practically written all over your face, you have to shake your head clear. You down the rest of your drink and tap the rim, the bartender easily pouring some more.

But nothing of note was happening. Yet, you remind yourself, before settling your gaze on Billy. He had slipped off his heavy green coat and draped it over the back of his chair, leisurely sat with cards in his hands and a bottle in front of him. Your eyes trailed the length of him, from his broad shoulders to his meaty thigh, his boot that's idly tapping on the floor.

Idiot, you think, that's his fucking giveaway. He's nervous about his cards. And in just ten more seconds, you see him fold, sipping to his bottle in defeat. As he takes the swig, your eyes follow his neck. It takes a lot of force to pull your gaze away, wondering how the hell his neck looks so soft.

When he brings his bottle down, you look back. The bottle rests against his thigh, his other hand catching at the top of his gun belt. Billy pulls at it to adjust it, his legs spreading more comfortably.

It takes everything in your power not to go over there and tease him for the way he's sat. You think about it. He hasn't been too annoyed with you as of late. Still the occasional glare. Still the occasional commanding tone he has when he asks you to quit it. But it was still less. And that felt like ample enough reason to give into the little itch in your brain to mess with him.

You push yourself off the bar, but your thoughts are completely deterred by the sound of glass breaking.

In a flash, two very drunken men are brawling, throwing sloppy fists while the bartender yells for them to cut it out.

The rest of the patrons are rowdy though. This is what you hoped for if you were being honest with yourself. You could never pass up watching a good fight, and they're drunk? Fuck, even better. You stay in your spot, sipping on your drink and laughing as they tumble to the ground.

The bartender gestures to two guys near him to get the two to stop, but they're moving slow. Reluctant.

Perfect. The guys fighting somehow get to their feet and the taller one slams his fist into the shorter one's jaw, sending a chorus of noise over the room. You sip your drink, so thoroughly amused, you've almost forgotten about your plan with Billy.

When another punch lands to the shorter one's jaw, he stumbles back with more force right towards you. You're about to react, when you feel hands on your waist, tugging you right back and out of the way.

You let out a, "oof," as you're pulled back into the man's lap. A smile rises to your lips. Why did he have a distinct smell? You tilt your head back on the man's shoulder. "Hey there, Bonney."

"Yeah," he replies, very unamused but his hands keep their very tight grip on you.

The two men have been pulled apart by now and you sigh, leaning your head back again, "You know I definitely could have moved out of the way."

"It was a reflex that 'm regretting," he says, but he still does not let go of you.

"Uh huh," you reply and decide not to question it. You had his comfy lap and your drink in hand, what's not to love?

"Oh, by the way," you start and Billy adjusts you in his lap so you're not as slouched, but your back is still to him.

"By the way. You sit very wide."

A pause. Like you expected form him. You swirl your glass, then sip, the glass already almost done.

"Wide?"

You nod and finish the rest of your drink, "Mhm. Wide. Are you compensating for something?"

A quick image runs through your mind which dispels any actual proof he's compensating. In fact he has a very big reason to spread his legs the way he does. You've seen it. Not that you meant to. But your mouth is quiet.

Billy scoffs, his grip tightening, "I was sittin'. That's all I was doin'."

For added effect, he flicks your wrist and you jab your elbow back against his stomach. He clears his throat at it, and although you're not looking at his face, you know he rolled his eyes.

"Let me up, gotta refill my drink," you tap the bottom of your glass to his thigh and Billy hums, "No, you already had two, need you coherent enough to ride your horse, dumbass."

"How do you know I had two? Were you watching me?"

He's quiet.

"Oh my god. Bonney! You fuckin' perv," you mutters, tapping your glass to him again.

"'M not...you...shut your mouth. Please." Billy lets out a heavy breath and does not loosen his hold at all. If you really tried to get free, you knew you could, but part of you did not want to even try.

"Just let me up, then I'll be quiet," you reason with him but Billy keeps his firm hold.

"No," is all he says and you dramatically groan at him, then your words spill out before you can stop yourself, "Well maybe I'll piss on you. You'll let go then."

Billy snorts, "holy shit," he mutters, completely baffled by your words, and he leans down, his lips just ghosting over the top of your ear, "that's what you're going to do....right here? In this place? Mhm, sure you will."

He knows you won't but now you've amused him. It both creates a twinge of annoyance within you and a flutter in your heart. You just had to play this better than him.

"I will if that's what it takes," you say back to him, keeping the conviction in your voice, but his slightly chapped lips brushing to your ear does not help your breathing remain normal.

"Yeah? You gonna piss all over me, cowgirl?" His words are whispered, Billy's hot breath hitting to your ear, almost making you shudder. Why did he have to say it like that, you don't know. Well you do, but fuck that, you wanted to win this. But your cheeks feel hot and a thrumming inside of you heats up, you have to resist the urge to move your hips against him. Your mind flashes with how pissing all over him would even go. Would he like it? Is that why he said it like that? Or is he just teasing? Why are his lips to your ear? Why is-

"You still here, cowgirl?" He whispers still, holding back a chuckle, but you know he's smiling.

"Fuck off," is all you can muster, a grumble, a pitiful excuse for a comeback that he actually chuckles at.

Billy's already decided his victory. "Yeah, thought so," Billy mumbles, patting your hip before holding it again. "Don't drink anymore," he repeats.

"Fine. But you didn't win."

"I think I did. Are you into piss?" Billy means it as a jest, but when you're quiet for a second too long, he shakes his head, "Don't answer that."

You elbow him again and go to grab his bottle, but he swipes it just in time, putting it to the ground and wrapping his arms around you so you're really held to him.

The rest of the night, you're quiet with one another, watching his hands extensively as he plays a few more rounds of poker, before he finally nudges you off of his lap, the gang making their way back outside to your horses.

Billy watches you greet yours, then he locks eyes with some random drunk patrons also leaving the saloon, taking long looks at you, trailing your figure. So right as you go to hop up over your saddle, he comes up, holding his hat over your backside, blocking you with his body from the view of the other men leaving.

Billy gives you one of his own long glances though, watching you settle, before he gets up on his horse, staying close to you, but not close enough you could call him out for it. Or maybe he wants to hear you call him out for it.

Billy trots his horse forward until he's right next to you.

My Cowboy.

He needed help. And how could I help a cowboy? What was the best way to help him? I have no fucking idea.

"All apologies man! What else could I say?"

Is it weird to say that when he said this, I had the best eargasm ever. It's not because it's spring and in this season women are particularly "in heat", but the thing is that he looked hot as hell when he said this to my dad.

Now, to help the man that accidentally spilled his coffee drink on my texan dad's shirt, I said that he was a dear friend of mine and that he didn't do that on purpose.

My dad looked at me as if I killed his dog Roofus. Acting as if I was innocent, I look back at him and say "What's up? You're surely not mad just because of a mere shirt getting dirty, are you? Come on now dad! Can you go inside and get me a cappuccino please?" by now I was only rambling. But nonetheless my dad nodded at the man and went inside.

"Thanks for getting me out of the dirt, doll. He was pissed as hell, thought he was gon beat the fuck outta me and I would never see the light again." he said while chuckling.

"Nah, don't sweat it. You know texan men have anger issues." I laugh.

"Name's Blaze by the way. Nice to meet you." he gave me his hand and I shook it while saying: "I'm Brooklyn. Nice to meet ya too! Are you new to town? Haven't seen ya round here before"

"Yeahhh. Got here a week ago. Moved from Dallas. Wanted to change scenery and got to Austin. People 've told me that they have pretty cowgirls 'roun here, you know."

Oh you sneaky little shit.

Home?

I felt free only when I was at home.

Home, where I was born and raised, the place that crafted the person I am today. The capital of my state was a hectic place for sure, in fact I still remember the anxiety I used to have every day in the middle of the street full of hundred of people that only stared at me and at each other because that was one of the few things they knew how to do.

But, I have to be honest with you because that might be the only thing that my country lacked in: it is surely not my home anymore.

I have realised many negative elements of that place, one of many is exactly the toxicity it use to carry. People had become poisonous to each other and to their own blood. They would hate people and spit venom about other people's lives. Ungrateful fucking people.

So, affermative. My country ain't the best. And I come from it. But, it isn't my home anymore. Actually I don't have a home right now. As in, at the moment I don't have a city or a place I can call my home. I don't think I even want to find it, perhaps I am accustomed to being a nomad. It doesn't necessarily mean that I love doing it though, perhaps it's just how I got used to surviving.

I am Ariadne and I want to tell you what I think about life. Well, we are simple humans following the same rules and the same values, even though some of us don't really follow them but that's definitley irrelevant, and we are different in the matter of opinions. Even that though was the same at some point. But still there were some of us that wanted to destroy those norms, attempting to create new ones, like I said before, irrelevant.

Humans are divided into two genders: male and female. And with sexual actions they can reproduce new beings to our race. We have one race. We are all humans. But to some of us even these aspects I just listed to you are absolutely ridiculous, so they created new genders, new ways of sexual actions, new methods to reproduce and other absurd races.

We humans are never satisfied with how things were made. We want new things and we want to make them ourselves because that's what really satisfies us. Imagine the proudness one feels after demolishing the rules of nature, they would be thrilled as hell. How do I know that? I mean, it takes one to know the other. I've never been one that broke the rules but I have done some things, despite being small and not even worth mentioning.

I have surely changed a lot lately. In fact, I'm not the same person I was before because apparently I don't have a home to return to, other than my family, and I am not what my country wanted me to be. I'm not particularly proud of it. I'm actually indifferent to it. It might be because I'm continuously changing like a flower does every day.

Secret.

it is time for me to open up with you. Seriously.

I’m destroyed, fully. I know that it breaks your heart, when I cry again, instead of being honest with myself; but I can’t stop. That’s so much more to my soul that you haven’t seen yet, and I’m hating myself because I haven’t even tried showing it to you.

I wanna be with you, in a way that you will never understand; I was brought up by two morally and emotionally diverse parents: one was too affectionate and oblivious to the world, and the other one was too cold and overprotective, so both of them never realised how toxic it became.

And you do it so well. You’re so understanding. You’re there for me. You’re my other half. That part which I’ve been missing for a lot of time. You stare at me and to me, that, that is the sun. The sun looking at me, admiring me but never blinding my eyes or burning my skin. Because you know exactly what I need.

You’re the moon to my inner stars. You complete me entirely.

And there’s a whole lot of baggage that you can’t see because i’ve been hiding it to you. Will I ever feel the need to show you where I’m hurting?

I know you hear me when I cry. It hurts you. But I can’t stop.

If you were anybody else, you’d leave me in my own torment. But, you're not and I don't know idf that makes me feel any better.

It breaks your heart. Leaving me.

So why are you leaving me?

Robert De Niro in Taxi Driver (1976) dir. Martin Scorsese