Latest Posts by tammyfortis - Page 3

It’s because he’s good at his job

Lando 🤪🤪🤪🤪🤪🎉🎉🍾🍾🍾🍾

Oscar like: 🤨🤨🤨~🙂‍↔️🙂‍↔️🙂‍↔️~😒😒😒

“No, no, no! 𝕷𝖆𝖓𝖉𝖔, I can’t let u do that”

"You're not breaking this one!"🏆

Possessive Toto is mad at you 🥵😳🙏

Hi loves! Me and my friends decided to sell some stickers but for now it's still not done yet! But here's some sneak peek on what are we selling!

More drivers and team principals soon!

F1 Drivers as Dogs and cats!

How to find your favourite driver

Nico Hulkenberg: Kindergarten drop off

Kevin Magnussen: FIA jail cell

Zhou Guanyu: A photoshoot for a fashion magazine

Valtteri Bottas: Go somewhere where you wouldn't expect people to have their whole arse out. He will show up

Yuki Tsunoda: Go to the highest rated restaurant you can find. He will come.

Daniel Ricciardo: Texas

Logan Sargeant: Underneath an amreican flag

Alex Albon: Become a cat, let him come to you

Esteban Ocon: In an alley somewhere making tiktoks

Pierre Gasly: COD lobby, most probably beefing with a 14 year old so you will have to wait your turn

Fernando Alonso: Conduct some questionable business, eventually he will give you a call

Lance Stroll: You wont find him unless he wants you to

Oscar Piastri: Sorry, he only spawns at tracks during race weekends

Lando Norris: Top step of the podium *air horn sound**air horn sound**Sunglasses emoji**fuckboy emoji(you know which one I mean)*

Carlos Sainz: Just stand on the side of any bike trail, he will turn up eventually

Charles Leclerc: A high end designer boutique for dogs

Lewis Hamilton: Any red carpet event of your choosing

George Russell: Outside Buckingham Palace

Sergio Perez: Locate Helmut Marko, now locate the furthest point away from him. Voila, you have found Checo

Max Verstappen: Start sim racing. What? You thought you could meet him irl? Don't be ridiculous

𝓓𝓪𝓭𝓭𝔂!!!!! 😈😈😈😈

Why does he always look so good???

🥵🥵🤤

Boss 😎❤️👀

a distinguished gentleman - t.w.

pairing: fem!reader x toto wolff

warnings: allusions to smut, mentions of oral (m! receiving), mentions of fingering (f! receiving), some cursing, lemme know if there's anything i missed, yadayadayada

a/n: this isn't necessarily a cohesive fic, more like a spitballing of the thots i have related to this topic. i hope y'all enjoy them hehehe <3 thank you to @chaerylecq for the inspo!!!

when it comes to driving, toto is the one who always offers.

after all, you are his passenger princess.

i feel like he wants you to be comfortable as possible in his car, so he always has a little makeup bag or cosmetics bag with deodorant, makeup remover, makeup wipes, perfume, etc., for you in case you ever need to touch up. he also has a plethora of hair accessories for you to use in case you ever need one. all you have to do is just reach in the glovebox, or he keeps the pouch in the center console for your convenience.

when he starts to drive, his hand is either resting comfortably on your thigh, or his fingers are intertwined with yours. for longer drives, he always offers for you to lay your legs on top of his. (even if it not necessarily the safest route)

his windows are tinted (duh) so there are numerous times in which his fingers are plunging into you, curling as they pump in and out. for clean up, he'll usually just have you suck on his fingers, groaning and cursing under his breath as your tongue laps at the juices.

if he can't wait until you make it home, he'll have your head bobbing, one hand clutching the wheel while the other is palming the back of your skull, applying pressure so that you'll go deeper and deeper. he prefers to keep the radio off, so the filthy, obscene noises will flood the intimate space. his desire to fuck you only soars by the second, his tip pressing deeper and deeper down your throat.

if he's desperate enough, he'll nearly swerve off to the nearest exit, pulling off in an enclave or parking lot. with his large stature, he typically has you ride him in the driver's seat, savoring the way your figure molds with his perfectly as the windows fog.

other times, he just wants to hear your voice, engaging you in deep conversation. there are a variety of topics, each with their own nuance and question he'll begin with. there's nothing more that he cherishes than drives with you, because he gets to build more and more emotional intimacy. getting to know you is one of his favorite things to do, so of course he's going to seize the opportunity.

he is the type of person to request kisses at stoplights, even if they are brief. there was one time he took you cruising along the brackley campus, purposefully stopping for as long as possible at the lights or signs, just so that he can get a smooch.

of course, you don't mind. you love him. oh so dearly. of course you're going to kiss him whenever the opportunity is presented.

also, you are the one who has the aux most of the time, your phone paired to the bluetooth the second you're in that passenger seat. he enjoys your taste in music, finding a new favorite song or two each time. sometimes he'll ask you to add the song to his personal playlist, not shy in the fact that he gets a lot of his new music from his girl.

whether it's cruises at night, enjoying the skylines of whichever city you're in, or countryside tours, you just love being in that passenger seat. there are times in which you tease that he needs to get that section of the dash engraved, customized with your name.

little do you know, he has that in the works.

not just for that car, but for every vehicle in his fleet.

Drive to Survive, Azerbaijan GP 2018 | Post-race show, Spanish GP 2024

Why don't they make intros like this anymore 😞😞

"Focus, George. Focus"

Sir with that voice?!

"You Can Call Her Phone" Series (George's Version)

author's note : okay here's the george version!!

pairing : George Russell x Fem!Reader

warnings : swearing, shitty men, and not proof read

word count : 597

“Darling!” George calls out to you from the kitchen. You’re currently folding laundry on the couch, and apparently nowhere near your phone. “Who’s this Josh Do Not Answer on your phone?” His question makes you groan and that makes him even more curious. “I’m going to answer it!” 

“Wait!” You call out, jumping up from your spot to stop him, but you’re too late, speaker already next to his ear the by the time you get to the kitchen.

“Hello Josh!” George’s voice is cheery to the point of disgust and he’s smiling widely at you in way that makes you narrow your eyes. You try to grab the phone from him, but he just dodges your advances. You think Josh is talking, but you’re too focused on trying to grab the phone instead of straining your ears to hear him speak.

George’s eyes then narrow and he frowns, at which you stop trying to grab the phone and just wait. “Now, I don’t think that’s true at all mate.” He then directs himself towards you. “YN, you’ve told this Josh fellow that we’re dating right?”

His question makes you confused, because of course you have. And also, you’ve been dating for well over 2 years, there’s no way he could miss it. “Of course I have.” You’re sure you are loud enough for Josh to hear you over the phone.

“Yeah, she says that’s not true, Josh, and I have to believe her. But also, we’ve been together for almost three years, so there’s no way you could miss it. I’m sure it’s all over your social media because I’m a famous Formula One driver and she’s an amazing lawyer.” The subtle —not— brag causes you to roll your eyes, but it stops you from wanting to grab your phone and instead listen to how this plays out. “Let me listen,” you whisper to him as Josh is talking again and George nods, moving the phone away so he can put it on speaker.

“—She’s been giving me signals, mate. I’m talking sex eyes and lip biting.” That makes you roll your eyes even harder. “So, even if you two have been dating for a little while there’s no way she’s been loyal to you, not with the way she's been with me. Probably fucked half the grid behind your back.” That makes you scoff, and George can’t stop you from grabbing the phone from his hand.

“Hi Josh, this is YN,” your voice must be a shock to him, “I just wanted to let you know that those ‘sex eyes’ I’ve been making at you were actually ‘please get the fuck away from me you perv’ eyes.” George looks even more amused, leaning back against the counter with his arms crossed over his chest. “I will also be filling another complaint with HR on Monday for the harassment after work. I think that will be enough to terminate your contract and get you a pretty long list of places to not even think about applying to after your unemployment.” At that you end the call, placing your phone back down on the counter and then giving your boyfriend a stern look. “And this is why he’s Josh Do Not Answer on my phone, George.”

He just shrugs, wrapping his arms around your waist to pull you in. “Yeah, but if I hadn’t done that I wouldn’t have gotten to see you be all Lawyer YN on him.” He pauses to give you a quick kiss. “And you know I think Lawyer YN is incredibly sexy.”

“can you watch my boyfriend for a sec?” ❁

f1 grid x fem!reader

summary: TikTok trend with the grid!!

authors note: saw the carlos one and knew i had to write about it!! his reaction made me laugh!! i also just saw mclaren do it to oscar!! i hope the other teams do it to their drivers as well!! also first time writing for seb, jenson, and daniel, i had the time so i said why not?!any feedback is appreciated and please like, comment, and reblog!! hope you enjoy!!

f1 masterlist

Lewis

You: "Hey guys, can you watch my boyfriend for a sec? I need to grab something from the car."

You head out, leaving Lewis alone in front of your phone's camera. He looks around, slightly bewildered.

"What? Y/N who’s on the phone? Uh, hey there. I guess I'm being watched. So... how's everyone doing? Good? Cool. Uh, any Mercedes fans here?" He starts talking about his day and how Roscoe is doing, trying to entertain the 'audience'. "Alright, she'll be back any minute now... right?"

Max

You: "Hey guys, can you watch my boyfriend for a sec? I need to take out the trash."

Max raises an eyebrow as you walk away. He looks at the phone, unsure of what to say.

"Huh? Um, okay. This is weird. Hi, everyone….I guess…..Y/N what is this?! Who’s on the phone? So…what do we do now? Should I... talk about racing? Or... maybe I could just sit here…?" He awkwardly shuffles in his seat, checking his watch. "How long does it take to throw out the trash? Y/N come back! I don’t know what to say or do!"

Lando

You: "Hey guys, can you watch my boyfriend for a sec? I need to get a drink from the kitchen."

Lando grins as you walk away, immediately knowing the TikTok trend. He leans in closer to the camera.

"Hey, TikTok! I was wondering when Y/N was going to do this trend on me! What have you guys been up to? Should I prank her back? Give me some ideas in the comments!" He starts to look around, trying to find something to do. "Should I play some games on my computer or maybe I'll hide and jump out when she gets back?"

Oscar

You: "Hey guys, can you watch my boyfriend for a sec? I need to get my food."

Oscar blinks, looking at the phone and then at the door you just walked towards. He frowns slightly.

"Huh? What….okay? Uh, hi? I guess you guys are going to watch me eat my breakfast…Not sure what I'm supposed to do here. Should I be saying something interesting?" He scratches his head, and moves his food around, clearly uncomfortable. "So, did you guys have breakfast yet? I hope you did, breakfast is important….uhhh yea. Y/N!! Babe!! Come back!! I don’t know what to do!!"

Charles

You: "Hey guys, can you watch my boyfriend for a sec? I need to take a call."

Charles watches you leave, then looks at the phone, confused but trying to be polite.

"Uh? Wait what? Hello, everyone. I guess your...on watch duty?" He laughs nervously. "This feels strange. Maybe I should sing a song? Or talk about Ferrari? Oh, I know, I'll play some music on my piano!" He moves towards the piano, but then hesitates. "Wait, how long is this call going to be? Y/N! Baby!!"

Carlos

You: "Hey guys, can you watch my boyfriend for a sec? I need to make a smoothie."

Carlos looks at the camera, then at the direction you went, raising an eyebrow.

“What is this? Hello? Anyone there? Who were you talking to? Y/N?! Uhhhh hi… Wait, a smoothie? Bebe make me one too please! Okay, hi everyone. This is Carlos, just here... being watched?" He starts looking around, picking up random items on the table. "So, let me show you my favorite things on this table. This is a cool pen, and this is... a coaster. Fascinating, right?" He chuckles, shaking his head. "This is so weird. How long does making a smoothie take anyway?"

Sebastian

You: "Hey guys, can you watch my boyfriend for a sec? I need to water the plants."

Sebastian gives you a puzzled look as you leave and then turns to the camera, smiling politely.

"What?! Y/N what is this? Hello? Hello? Anywhere there? I’m confused… Y/N!! Who were you talking too? Honey? … Um, hello everyone… I guess I'm under surveillance now." He chuckles. "So, while she's watering the plants, let's talk about... sustainability! Did you know you can make your own compost at home? It's really simple and great for your garden." He starts explaining the process, gesturing enthusiastically. "I hope she comes back soon because I might run out of eco-friendly tips! Oh wait!! I know! Let me show you my bees!!"

Jenson

You: "Hey guys, can you watch my boyfriend for a sec? I need to grab the mail."

Jenson watches you leave with a bemused smile, then looks at the phone.

"Ummm what?! Babe? Y/N? Hello? Uhhh..hey there. So, I guess I need to be watched for a minute. You guys are in babysitting duty? Let’s see... what can I do to entertain you?" He glances around and spots his dogs. "Hey, meet my dogs! Come here babies!." He tries to get their attention but Bentley and Rouge ignore him, while Storm walks up to him, just to sit and stare at him. "Well, that didn’t go as planned. I guess they’re tired from playing this morning. Oh well, maybe next time! Isn’t that right Storm." he says putting down the camera.

Daniel

You: "Hey guys, can you watch my boyfriend for a sec? I need to fix something in the bathroom."

Daniel immediately grins and laughs as you walk away, sensing a prank.

“Huh? Babe? What? Oh wait! It’s that TikTok trend!! Alright, what’s up TikTok, what's going on? He starts making funny faces at the camera and then leans in closer. "I have no idea what to talk about. This is so stupid and awkward.” He says bursting out laughing. He keeps glancing towards the bathroom, barely containing his laughter. "Babe come back!!"

© 23victoria 2024 I all rights reserved. do not republish, steal repost, modify, translate, or claim my work as your own.

Title: Into You

Number of Episodes: N/A

Themes/Warnings: Slowburn, light smut (Kissing, teasing, sexual tensions) angst, fluff, mentions of death,Daddy kink, Neglections.

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Cover

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Character Descriptions:

Y/N Horner (femHorner! READER)

- 5’2 ,British, 22 years old, fresh graduate from Harvard University under the course of Mechanical engineering.

- Likes to draw and paint, can play a few instruments like electric guitar and piano.

- Forced to take the course of mechanical engineering because of her mother who’s a mechanical engineer at formula one who recently passed due to cancer (lung).

- Smart and hardworking person who thinks that everything is a competition because of the household that she grew up in.

- Younger daughter of Christian Horner the team principal of red bull racing oracle formula one team.

- Has prior knowledge to FORMULA ONE, but doesn’t take that much interest in it.

- Neglected by his father

- Sergio’s Bestfriend

- Has Big problem of having a daddy issues.

Christian Horner (Team Principal of RedBul Racing Oracle Formula One Team)

- 50 years old

- 5’10

- british

- Father of Y/N Horner and Jonathan Horner

- Pressuring his daughter to take her job as the one of the engineers in Redbull.

- Hates Mercedes team so much.

- Ignoring her daughter's talents in arts and not letting her take another course or study under a fine arts program.

Jonathan Horner (Redbull Driver)

- 5’8

- 26 years old

- british

- Son of Christian Horner

- Older brother of Y/N Horner

- One of the Driver for Redbull racing

- Loved by his father

- Protective to his younger sister

- Hates his own father because of neglecting his own daughter (you).

- Supportive to his younger sister, thinks that it’s cool that Y/N can draw and is a mechanic for the red bull

Sergio “Checo” Pérez (Red Bull racing driver)

- Mexican

- 5’8

- 34 years old

- Driving alongside Jonathan Horner.

- Has a crush on Y/N Horner, but doesn’t tell her because he thinks that y/n will not like her.

- Best friend of Y/N

- A shy and introverted person but talks a lot when he’s with Y/N

- Likes it when Y/n is telling him about how she likes art so much, sometimes takes Y/N in art museum whenever it’s race week.

- Y/n’s biggest fan when it comes to art.

- Treats y/n whenever he can, because he thinks that y/n deserves so much more.

- A ray of sunshine to Red bull

Toto Wolff (CEO and The Team Principal of Mercedes-AMG PETRONAS Formula One Team)

- 52 years old

- Austrian

- 6’5 (🧎🏻‍♀️)

- Has a big problem with anger issues.

- Hates Horner and Redbull.

- Thinks that Y/N is too good for redbull

- Has a soft spot for y/n, but hides it because he doesn’t want y/n to think that he’s weak, given that he looks intimidating and tall ( well he is…)

- Divorced, has 1 kid with his Ex-Wife. (Not canon Toto:( )

- Jealous of Sergio, because Sergio's very close with y/n and he isn’t. In fact Y/N doesn’t even know him, she just knew that he’s the team principal of Mercedes, nothing else.

- Likes Y/N

- Brat tamer toto (RAAAAAAHHHHHH)

- Manipulative, He thinks that he can get anything, buy everything because he's toto Wolff, the team principal and the CEO of Mercedes formula one team.

Lewis Hamilton (Driver for Mercedes-AMG PETRONAS Formula One Team)

- British

- 39 years old

- 5’9

- A very close friend of toto

- Helping Y/N to know more about F1

- Thinks that Y/N deserves so much more and not just a mechanic

Supporting Characters:

F1 Grid (Drivers to be mentioned later on the story)

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MASTERLIST

upon my sister's request, have lando norris in the piastri basket (original post by @slugesh here)

(edit: added closeups because i forgot he is Tiny in mobile view)

Brake Balance

Charles Leclerc x mafiosa!Reader

Summary: something about the brake issues that Charles had to deal with in Bahrain just seems off … so you take matters into your own hands while your boyfriend is none the wiser

Warnings: depictions of violence and minor-character murder

You make your way through the paddock of the Bahrain International Circuit, weaving between team members and mechanics as they go about their pre-race routines. The energy in the air is electric, everyone buzzing with anticipation for the first race of the season later tonight.

You flash your paddock pass at security and head into the Ferrari garage, eyes scanning the organized chaos for the familiar mop of brown hair.

There he is, sitting in his red race suit that matches the iconic color of the Ferrari he drives, focused intently as his mechanics make some last minute adjustments. You walk up behind Charles and place your hands over his eyes.

“Guess who?” You say playfully.

Charles reaches up and removes your hands, a smile breaking across his face as he turns in his seat. “Ah, mon cœur! My favorite surprise.”

You lean down and kiss him softly. “How are things looking for today?”

“Good, good,” he nods. “The team had to change the left front brake duct exit deflector earlier, just as a precaution. But I’m feeling optimistic, the car has been solid all weekend. I think I might even be able to challenge Max for the win if everything goes to plan.”

His confidence makes you smile. Charles has been working so hard, both physically and mentally, to start this season strong. You know a win today would mean the world to him.

“I’ll be cheering the loudest when I see you on that top step today,” you say.

Charles grins. “We’ll see. Still have a race to get through first.”

You lean in to give him a quick kiss and head to the back of the garage so you’re out of the way. The mechanics are in full focus mode now, choreographing their dance around Charles’ car with practiced precision.

Charles goes through his usual pre-race routine — sips of water, reviewing data on the screens, and loosening up his muscles. He’s the picture of calm, but you know him well enough to see the coiled adrenaline thrumming just under the surface, ready to be unleashed once he settles into the cockpit.

The time comes to head out to the grid. Charles pauses before he puts his helmet on, meeting your gaze. You close the distance between you and cup his face in your hands, kissing his lips sweetly. Then you take the helmet from him and slide it gently into place, brushing your lips over the smooth surface where his would be.

“Be safe out there,” you say softly.

He nods, face disappearing behind the tinted visor, and climbs into the Ferrari. You watch as the car pulls away, weaving between other vehicles making their way to the starting grid. With a deep breath, you head deeper into the garage and take a seat next to Charles’ performance coach, Andrea. He hands you a headset so you can listen to Charles’ radio during the race.

“Let’s hope for a good one today,” Andrea says.

You nod, butterflies fluttering in your stomach as you fit the headset over your ears. On the monitors, you see Charles lining up on the grid in P2 after the formation lap, Max Verstappen’s Red Bull beside him on the front row in P1. The lights go out and the cars leap forward, engines roaring to life. Charles gets a good start, but Max keeps the lead through the first few turns.

The pack of cars higher up on the starting grid stays bunched up through the first few turns, but then you notice Charles starting to fall back little by little. His lap time slows as Max opens up a gap in front.

“The car doesn’t feel right, something with the front end,” Charles says. Your brow furrows in concern.

Only a lap later, George Russell in the Mercedes overtakes Charles on turn 4. Then Perez in the other Red Bull breezes past not long after.

“Come on Charles, stay focused,” you murmur under your breath. But things only seem to be getting worse. Carlos battles with Charles and eventually gets by, which frustrates you to no end. Charles fighting his own teammate for position is the last thing you want to see.

“Something felt very wrong with this set, the fronts were locking up like crazy,” Charles reports over the radio. Your heart sinks. Andrea shakes his head, equally perplexed.

The issues continue to persist. “What’s going on with my front left?” Charles asks, audible tension in his voice. “I just cannot get out of front locking. Everywhere ...”

Xavi, his race engineer, replies calmly, “We have temperature imbalance, higher front left.”

“How much is the imbalance?” Charles asks.

“Around 100 degrees.”

You grimace. That kind of discrepancy could make the car undriveable. Sure enough, Charles continues to struggle. It’s clear he’s fighting with the car now rather than racing the drivers around him.

“My car is fully going to the right when I am braking. With this I cannot fight, it’s dangerous,” Charles says, frustration seeping into his tone. You chew your lip anxiously. The rational part of you wishes Charles would just retire the car before he gets himself hurt trying to wrestle with it. But you also know that’s never been in Charles’ nature — he’ll keep fighting until the very last lap, no matter what.

Lap after lap, Charles battles to keep the car under control. “I think we can forget about driving now. It’s pulling everywhere,” he finally concedes. For a brief moment, you wonder if he’ll pull into the pits and call it a day. But no, your boyfriend is never one to simply give up. After the radio, through sheer force of will, Charles somehow overtakes George to reclaim P4. You can only imagine how hard he must be having to fight to keep the car in the track.

In the end, it’s a disappointing P4 for Charles while his teammate makes it on the podium in P3. As Carlos is lead to the cooldown room with Max and Checo, you watch Charles, frustration etched across his face as he tugs off his helmet and balaclava. He doesn’t even glance your way before the mechanics descend on him to start looking over the car.

Clearly the brake issues have cost him any chance at challenging for the win today. Most other drivers would have given up even trying to reclaim P4. But not your Charles. Never your Charles. Your heart aches for him.

Charles gets led away swiftly for the usual post-race weighing and interviews. You know from his body language that he’s utterly deflated by today’s results.

While the reporters pepper him with questions, you pull out your phone and scroll through your contacts. Enough is enough — something is clearly not right with Charles’ car and you want answers.

Your finger hovers over the call button as you contemplate who to reach out to. The last thing you want is for Charles to have to fight against his own machine again. A solution needs to be found immediately, and you know just the person who can help.

With a determined nod, you press call and lift the phone to your ear, ready to get to the bottom of these brake issues once and for all.

***

The phone only rings once before a gruff voice answers. “Boss?”

“Hello, Gianluca,” you say. “I need you to do something for me.”

You go on to explain in detail the brake issues Charles faced during the race, how the problems started right after they replaced the left front brake duct exit deflector.

“I don’t think it was just bad luck,” you say. “Something seems off about the whole situation. I want you to look into it, see if anyone on Charles’ side of the garage could have tampered with his car.”

Gianluca is quiet for a moment. “Sabotage, you think?”

“Possibly. I just … I can’t shake this feeling that someone meant for this to happen to Charles’ car. He truly thought he could at least try to challenge Max for the win, then suddenly it’s like he’s driving an entirely different machine. Too much of a coincidence for my liking.”

“I’ll look into it boss, don’t you worry,” Gianluca says. “I’ll go through the team with a fine tooth comb, see if anything seems out of the ordinary. If someone did intentionally compromise Charles’ car, I’ll find out who and how.”

You let out a breath. “Thank you, Gianluca. Let me know as soon as you learn anything. Charles can’t afford issues like this again.”

“You got it. I’ll be in touch.”

The call ends and you lean back against the garage wall, gaze fixed unseeingly out across the pit lane. Your mind turns over the events of the race, Charles’ baffled frustration over the radio. He’s worked too hard for too long to have valuable points stolen away by something like this. If there is sabotage afoot within the team, you’ll get to the bottom of it.

A few days later you’re back in your study after flying home from Bahrain. A knock at the door interrupts your work and you call for them to enter. Gianluca steps in, an uncharacteristically grim look on his face.

“Boss,” he greets you. Wordlessly, he steps forward and places a thick manila folder on your desk. You flip it open, eyes scanning over photos, documents, even what looks like stills of CCTV footage. Gianluca remains silent, allowing you to take it all in.

“I went over every inch of security camera video from the Bahrain paddock and garage,” Gianluca finally says. “And I found something.”

He leans over your desk and flips to a page in the folder, tapping a finger on a freeze frame showing one of Charles’ mechanics.

“This is Tomaso, one of the brake technicians,” Gianluca explains. “I noticed him acting strange all race day. Fidgety. Nervous. He was trying to hide it but his body language gave it away.”

Your eyes narrow as you study the photo. There is a shifty, almost guilty look about the man as he glances over his shoulder.

“I watched him like a hawk after that,” Gianluca continues. “When the team went to change the brake duct exit deflector, that’s when I saw it happen.”

He flips to another page, this one showing screen captures of CCTV footage in the Ferrari garage a few hours before the race start. You can make out Tomaso slipping the replacement deflector into his pocket before taking out another piece and installing it in Charles’ car. Your blood turns cold.

“He tampered with the part,” Gianluca confirms grimly. “There’s no doubt in my mind he switched that deflector with a compromised one. Sabotage, just like you suspected.”

You sit back, shaking your head in disgusted disbelief. “Why? Why would he do this?”

Gianluca shrugs. “Hard to say for sure. Could be someone paid him off, wants to see Charles fail. But what I know for certain is that he meant to damage Charles’ car.”

You drum your fingers on your desk, thinking hard. This level of betrayal from someone Charles trusts, it’s unthinkable. An affront you won’t let stand.

“You’ve done excellent work, Gianluca,” you finally say, meeting his gaze. “Thank you for getting to the bottom of this. I’ll handle it from here.”

Gianluca nods. “Of course, boss. Let me know if you need anything else.”

He turns and leaves your study, closing the door quietly behind him. You lean back in your chair, fingers steepled under your chin. Your expression is stone, but internally your thoughts roil with anger. Tomaso will pay for this, you’ll see to that.

Charles has enough challenges to face without sabotage from his own team. Your resolve hardens — you won’t stop until justice is served and he can race with full confidence again. The treachery ends now.

***

After Gianluca leaves, your mind turns over what to do about Tomaso. The team flew straight from Bahrain to Saudi Arabia to prepare for the next race, so he’s out of your reach for now. Still, you won’t let him slip away that easily. You pick up your phone and call a trusted associate, instructing him to organize a surveillance team to keep constant eyes on Tomaso until you arrive in Jeddah yourself.

The days crawl by painfully slow as you wait to confront the saboteur. You resist the urge to call Fred Vasseur and have Tomaso removed from the team immediately — better to handle this yourself. Finally, it’s time to fly out for the Saudi Arabian Grand Prix. Upon landing, your associate meets you at the airport.

“We have eyes on the target,” he reports. “He’s currently at the hotel bar, quite intoxicated.”

You nod curtly. “Good. Let’s pay him a visit.”

You’re led to the hotel and pointed towards the bar. Sure enough, there’s Tomaso, stumbling drunkenly out the door into the night. Now is your chance. You follow him down the street, waiting until he turns into a shadowy alley to make your move. In a flash you have him by the collar, shoving him against the brick wall.

“What the hell, let me go!” Tomaso slurs, trying to shove you off. But drinking has made him clumsy and weak.

“I don’t think so, Tomaso,” you reply coldly. “We need to have a little chat.”

His eyes widen in fear and confusion. You press on before he can respond.

“Let’s see, Tomaso Barbieri, born May 5th, 1992 in Turin. Moved to Maranello in 2021 to begin work as a mechanic with Scuderia Ferrari. Parents Lucia and Giacomo Barbieri, both schoolteachers. Sister Cecilia studying abroad in London.”

As you rattle off details about his personal life, Tomaso’s eyes grow wider and wider.

“What the hell, how do you know all that?” He stammers. “Who are you? Does Charles know the ugly truth about his girlfriend?”

You fix him with an icy stare. “Who I am doesn’t matter. What matters is that I know exactly who you are, Tomaso. A mechanic for Ferrari … and apparently a master of espionage and sabotage in your spare time.”

Tomaso’s eyes dart wildly, still trying to make sense of the situation in his inebriated state. He attempts an unconvincing laugh.

“What are you talking about man? Sabotage? I think you’ve had too much to drink ...”

Your response is to slam him hard against the wall, causing him to grunt in pain. You lean in close, anger simmering in your eyes.

“Let’s cut the bullshit, Tomaso. I know what you did in Bahrain, switching out the brake duct deflector to sabotage Charles’ car. Did you think you could get away with it? That there wouldn’t be consequences?”

Up close, you can see the color drain from his face, eyes wide with fear. He tries to retain some composure.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” he repeats weakly. “I would never sabotage Charles’ car, I want him to win ...”

You slam him against the wall again, cutting off his lies.

“I said, enough bullshit!” you snarl. “We have you on video. We saw everything. We know you pocketed the real deflector and installed a defective one instead.”

He is trembling now, any hint of drunkenness replaced by sobering fear.

“Please,” he whimpers pathetically. “I’ll do anything, just please let me go. I made a mistake ...”

You shake your head in disgust. “A mistake? You betrayed Charles’ trust and tried to ruin his race out of what? Jealousy? Greed?”

Tomaso says nothing, eyes downcast in shame. You take a breath and continue in a low, menacing tone.

“Here are your options. One: you go directly to Vasseur first thing in the morning and resign from Ferrari immediately. You will leave the team and ensure you are never so much as in the same country as Charles again. Two: I deal with you myself, in a much less pleasant manner. The choice is yours, Tomaso. What’s it going to be?”

He meets your steely gaze again, jaw clenched. “I can’t just quit,” he says hoarsely. “My job is my life. You might as well just kill me.”

You purse your lips and shake your head. “I was afraid you’d say that. Very well.”

In one swift motion you draw your gun from its concealed holster and press the barrel firmly under Tomaso’s chin. He recoils in terror, plastered back against the wall.

“Last chance,” you say calmly. “Walk away from Ferrari and never look back, or your days end tonight in this alley.”

Sweat drips down his brow as the gun digs harder into his throat. His eyes are saucers of fear, flitting between your steely gaze and the weapon poised to end his life.

“Well?” You ask after a long silence. “What’s it going to be?”

Tomaso swallows hard, Adam’s apple bobbing against the gun barrel. When he speaks, his voice is a terrified croak.

“I … I won’t quit. I can’t.” He closes his eyes in resignation, awaiting his fate.

You click your tongue in disappointment. “That’s unfortunate. I wish it hadn’t come to this.”

Your finger tightens almost imperceptibly on the trigger …

“Wait, wait!” Tomaso cries out, hands raised in desperation. “I’ll do it, I’ll quit! Just please, don’t hurt me!”

You pause, gun still aimed steadily at his throat. “And why should I believe you now?”

He swallows hard, eyes brimming with tears. “I swear, I’ll resign first thing tomorrow. You’ll never see me near the team again. Just let me go, I’m begging you!”

You consider him coldly for a moment before lowering the gun. Tomaso sags back against the wall in relief. But you’re not done with him yet.

“Who paid you?” You demand. “Who put you up to sabotaging Charles’ car?”

The blood drains from his face again. “I can’t tell you that. They’ll kill me, and my family ...”

In a flash the gun is back at his throat, your grip like iron on his shirt collar.

“I assure you, I can do much worse than they ever could,” you say menacingly. “Now give me a name, or you can say goodbye.”

Tomaso shakes uncontrollably, tears streaming down his face. You can see the internal struggle, debating which is the lesser evil — defying you or those he conspired with. Finally, he slumps in defeat and leans in close, voice barely a whisper.

“It was ...”

He utters a name directly into your ear. Your eyes widen briefly in surprise before narrowing again. You release Tomaso and take a step back, processing this new information.

“I see,” you say slowly. You nod over your shoulder and two of your associates emerge from the shadows.

“Get him out of my sight,” you order. They grab Tomaso roughly by the arms. He sags between them, the fight gone out of him completely. You fix him with an icy stare.

“My men will escort you to the airport,” you inform him. “You will be on the first flight out of this hemisphere. And you are never to go near Ferrari or Charles again — don’t even think about trying to contact the team to explain yourself. As far as they will be concerned, you simply resigned. Am I clear?”

Tomaso nods wordlessly, defeated. The men begin dragging him away towards a waiting black SUV.

“Oh, and Tomaso?” You call after him. He glances back warily. “If I ever see or hear of you so much as setting foot in a paddock again, you won’t get a second chance. You’ll simply disappear. Permanently.”

The color drains from his face one final time. Then he is shoved into the back of the SUV, the door slamming shut behind him. You watch impassively as the vehicle drives off into the night, carrying the saboteur away for good.

Or so he thinks.

Unbeknownst to Tomaso, you have contacts everywhere, including at his destination. The second he steps off the plane, thinking he’s escaped your wrath, your local associates will be waiting. And his life will be ended swiftly and permanently, as promised. You don't make idle threats after all.

Betrayal of this magnitude must be punished, no matter how far Tomaso runs. The message will be clear — cross you, and nowhere on Earth will be safe. You've given the order, and your associates are nothing if not ruthlessly efficient. By the time the sun rises, there will be one less threat to Charles’ success. The sabotage ends here and now. You'll see to that personally, no matter the cost.

For a moment you simply stand alone in the dark alley, processing everything. This is bigger than you initially realized. Tomaso was clearly just a pawn, the sabotage orchestrated by someone higher up the chain — someone with enough power and influence to scare a man into risking his career and life.

Your jaw clenches as you think about Charles being targeted like this, not only being robbed of a deserved finish but also put in danger as collateral. Well, it ends now. The shadowy orchestrator thinks they can get away with playing games in the dark? They’re about to realize just how big of a mistake they’ve made.

Now that you have a name, you can start unraveling the web, tracing every thread back to find where it leads. And when you do find the spider at the center? You’ll make sure they can never endanger Charles again. For good.

Satisfied with this plan, you straighten your dress and exit the alley onto the brighter streets. Time to put your considerable resources to work. Phone records, financials, travel records — you’ll dig through it all, leave no stone unturned.

And you have a feeling the name Tomaso gave you is only the first thread. This goes deeper. But it doesn’t matter. You’ve dealt with far more dangerous criminal elements before. These shadow games don’t scare you. You’ll keep following the threads until you reach the source, uprooting the entire enterprise in the process.

By the time you reach your car, your phone is already buzzing with incoming calls and updates from your associates. They know the drill by now — when you give the word, they mobilize into action immediately, utilizing the full extent of your influence and power.

For you, they’ll tap every resource, call in every favor owed. Because you protect what’s yours at all costs. And Charles? He’s under your protection now, whether he knows it or not. So for his sake, you’re going to find the ones trying to undermine him, and you’re going to tear out the threat root and stem. Permanently.

Let them keep playing their games for now, oblivious to the axe hanging over their heads. They’ll find out soon enough that nobody crosses you and gets away with it. And when that time comes, no mercy will be shown. No loose ends left to unravel.

Time to remind them exactly why your reputation precedes you in certain circles, why your name is uttered only in hushed whispers. They’ll regret the day they dared threaten someone you care about. You’ll see to that personally.

With your jaw set in determination, you climb into the idling car. Time to go hunting.

***

Two days after dealing with Tomaso, you make your way through the Jeddah Corniche Circuit paddock towards the Ferrari motorhome.

Your stiletto heels click along the pavement and you glance down, frowning slightly at the flecks of blood still staining the pointed toes of your red soles. Such a shame about these Louboutins, you really love this pair. But a bit of blood is a small price to pay for protecting Charles, especially after personally dealing with the orchestrator who had been paying Tomaso off.

You had tracked them down and made sure they could never threaten Charles’ success again. Subtly, you crouch down and wipe at the stains, managing to remove the worst of it.

Satisfied, you straighten and continue on your way. The familiar bright red motorhome comes into view and you sweep inside, immediately spotting Charles standing with some team members. His face lights up when he sees you, excusing himself to rush over.

“Mon amour, you made it!” He exclaims, enveloping you in a tight hug. You melt against him, breathing in his familiar scent.

“Of course, I wouldn’t miss seeing you race for anything,” you reply, pecking his lips sweetly.

Charles takes your hand, leading you to a quiet corner where you can talk. “I missed you so much while you were away,” he says. “But I’m so glad you’re here now.”

You smile and stroke his cheek. “Me too, darling. But I’m here now and I’ll be cheering the loudest for you all race.”

Charles’ grin falters a bit. “It’s been a strange few days actually. Tomaso, one of my mechanics, just up and quit in the middle of the week. No explanation or anything.”

You school your features into a look of surprise. “Really? That’s so odd.”

Charles nods. “Very weird timing to just resign like that. But maybe it’s for the best if his heart wasn’t fully in it anymore.”

“I’m sure you’re right,” you agree. “The team is better off without any negativity.”

Before Charles can reply, Andrea enters the motorhome. “Charles, time for some quick physio before the race.”

Charles sighs but nods, giving you a swift kiss before following Andrea out. You watch him go fondly before making your way trackside to the Ferrari garage. The mechanics are in race mode, voices terse and movements precise as they make final adjustments on Charles’ car.

You stay back, letting them work, thoughts drifting back to everything you did to get to this point. A small price to pay to ensure Charles can race with a fair chance again.

Finally it’s time for Charles to get in the car. You approach as he’s putting on his helmet and balaclava, stealing a tender kiss that he returns happily. Then you lift the helmet and slide it gently into place, brushing your lips softly over the smooth surface where his lips would be. Your ritual.

“Be safe out there,” you murmur. Charles squeezes your hand, then lowers himself into the cockpit. You watch tensely as the car pulls away, the lights of the circuit glittering against the dark night sky.

In the garage you pace anxiously throughout the race, listening to the radio chatter. Again Charles qualified P2, behind Max Verstappen’s Red Bull. But this time, you have no sabotage to worry about. The Ferrari proves fast and consistent all race, not quite keeping pace with the Red Bull but allowing Charles to maintain P2 smoothly.

The SF-24 doesn’t have the speed to challenge Max, but there’s no issues, no sudden grip loss or components failing. Your shoulders finally uncoil with relief as Charles crosses the line to take P2, securing a podium finish.

The garage explodes into cheers and applause as Charles pulls into parc fermé. He’s beaming as he climbs from the car, pulling off his gloves and balaclava. You run over to the barriers and throw your arms around him ecstatically as soon as he nears.

“I’m so proud of you!” You exclaim. Charles hugs you back tightly.

“Thank you, mon cœur,” he says warmly. “It felt good to finally have a clean race again.”

You just smile knowingly, heart bursting with joy at seeing Charles on the podium where he belongs. During the celebrations, he keeps meeting your gaze in the crowd, smiling and pointing down to you in the crowd of red. As he sprays champagne with Max and Checo, he looks utterly elated and at peace. No frustration or disappointment, just the satisfaction of a hard fought race with the result he deserved.

Afterwards, in the privacy of Charles’ room, he takes you into his arms again. “I don’t know what changed or why, but the car just felt right this weekend,” he says. “It makes me so optimistic for the rest of the season.”

You stroke his face gently. “You deserve it. All your hard work is paying off.” Inside, you allow yourself a small, satisfied smile. Charles doesn’t need to know just how much work went on behind the scenes to get here. He only needs to focus on driving his heart out, and securing the championships you know he’s destined for. The rest is simply details.

“Thank you again for being here,” Charles murmurs, pulling you close. “Having your support means everything to me.”

You rest your head on his shoulder contentedly. “Always, my love. I’ll be right by your side.” And you mean that with every fiber of your being. No matter what happens going forward, whoever tries to interfere or stand in Charles’ way, they’ll have to go through you first.

You won’t let anyone toy with Charles’ performance and safety again. The lesson has been sent — Charles is untouchable now. Dare to threaten the success that is his, and you’ll come for what’s theirs.

But Charles doesn’t need to carry that burden. He just needs to keep his head held high and drive his heart out. You’ll handle the rest. It’s the least you can do for the man you love more than life itself.

So as Charles holds you close, you silently promise to always shield him from the ugly underbelly that lurks beneath the glitz and glamour of Formula 1.

He gives so much of himself already in pursuit of greatness. Let others vie for power and influence through dirty tricks and mind games. That’s not Charles’ way, which is why you’ll ensure he remains untainted. For him, you’d walk through fire without a second thought.

So really, what’s a little blood on your Louboutins in the grand scheme of things? A man like Charles Leclerc deserves that and so much more. And you’re going to give it to him, no matter the cost.

Let them keep playing their games in the shadows. Little do they know, you’ve already checkmated them all.

TAME THE WOLFF| T.WOLFF

Pairing; Angry!Toto Wolff x Calm!Wife!reader

Summary; A few scenarios in which Toto is angry and frustrated and you’re there to calm him down and save his poor team from his wrath

Warnings; angry Toto.

F1 Master List

It was no secret that during a race weekend Toto could get a little….frustrated.

Okay, frustrated was putting it way too lightly, the man got way too passionate about his work and when things didn’t go the way they’re supposed to it was like a volcano was erupting in his mind and he just loses all sense of control leading him to his famous actions of smashing headphones.

The Austrian was already intimidating enough with his tall stature and the confidence he eluded but when he was angry he wasn’t just intimidating, he was scary.

The way his dark eyes seemed to turn almost entirely black and how the veins in his forehead throbbed were signs that had the Mercedes team shifting in their seats and the moment he started running his hands down his face was the moment the higher people in the team would get their phones out and call for help.

That help being you.

It had taken a long time for the team to acknowledge the effect you had on their team principle because he never got angry when you attended races but it was when you arrived to races later in the day that they started to see how things changed.

It was one particular day when Toto had arrived to the track already a bit frustrated, whether that was because of your absence or not they didn’t know but the pile up of disastrous events had lead to the team principle throwing things and shouting at the top of his lungs.

Then you arrived.

You certainly hadn’t expected to walk into the garage and be greeted by your husband in a fit of rage and the entire team stood frozen like petrified animals but the sight of fear on their faces had upset you greatly, especially knowing that it was because of Toto’s, quite frankly unnecessary, tantrum.

You walked over to your husband, who hadn’t even noticed you amidst his anger, and gently placed your hand on his arm.

Any member of the team would’ve called you crazy in that moment, walking over to the beast of a man with no fear on your face when he could have easily turned around and launched you across the room without even thinking.

He had been ready to throw a fist at the person who had the gall to touch him before he saw that it was you, his beloved wife looking at him with nothing but love in your eyes even as he was acting like a brute.

The team had never seen him change personalities so quickly in that moment.

You didn’t say anything to him, instead you placed your other hand on his back and guided him away from everyone, you wouldn’t have been able to move him by yourself but he allowed you to guide him away with absolutely no argument.

You opened the door of his makeshift office, saying nothing as he strode straight past you without a glance, steam practically spilling from his ears, you could feel the anger radiating off of him.

Apart from his unsettled shuffling the room was filled with an intense silence as you shut the door, simply watching as his chest rose and fell harshly, you could see that he was trying to calm himself down now that he was in your presence but he was struggling to do so and that was only frustrating him further.

"Sit down," you gently instructed him, nodding towards the small sofa pushed up against the wall of the small room.

He wanted to argue but he stopped himself and did as he was told, sitting down on the sofa he buried his face into his hands.

You walked over to him and wrapped your arms around the back of his head, allowing him to lean into your stomach, you ran your hands through his hair.

"I understand you’re stressed and that things aren’t going the way you want them too but the way you’re shouting is unfair to the team, they are not your verbal punching bag but you’re treating them as they are."

Toto closed his eyes, releasing a heavy sigh, he wrapped his arms around your body to bring you closer.

He knew you were right, you always were and that’s what he loved about you, how you were always there to talk some sense into him.

He didn’t say anything though, he just held you firmly but gently and used your presence to calm him down.

There were many things he needed to be doing right now but he couldn’t find himself to care, right now the most important thing was calming down and spending time with you, no matter how long that took.

When the Mercedes team heard the door to their boss’ office unlock and saw the man himself walk out completely calm with you following shortly after, they were beyond amazed.

It was that day that the members of the team who had your number put you on speed dial in preparation for when an incident like this happened again, which it no doubt would.

"It seems that Toto Wolff is beginning to get a little bit frustrated down in the Mercedes garage."

You couldn’t help but roll your eyes at the unnecessary commentary that wasn’t helping in the slightest.

Your husband was getting agitated and the nearby team members were nervously glancing in his direction as though they were mentally preparing themselves for him to blow his top.

Instead of waiting for Toto to lose it, you stood behind him and loosely wrapped your arms around him, thumbing at the collar of his shirt.

Everyone around could see the tension immediately release from his body just from your comforting touch.

Toto grabbed one of your hands with his own, stroking his thumb back and forth across your skin, using the motion as a way to ground himself.

The whole garage went silent at the sight of both of their cars spinning off the track in turn 1. What once was going to be a promising race from starting second and third has turned into a disaster in such a short amount of time.

Everyone was utterly speechless as the entire team just sat there staring at their monitors in shock.

But then they actually acknowledged that it was silent and all simultaneously turned towards their boss with confused stares only to see you blocking him from the cameras that were pointing into the garage, leaning down and whispering, what they could only guess were calming, words to him.

Whilst the cameras couldn’t see his face, the team could and they could tell he was, rightfully so, furious as the situation, he wasn’t shouting or throwing things.

He definitely wanted to but he wasn’t.

You weren’t really in the mood to be in the garage today surrounded by so much noise to the point you could barely hear yourself think and the smell of fuel so strong it made you nauseous but you still wanted to support your husband as you weren’t able to accompany him everywhere he went so you settled in his makeshift office on what was possibly the worlds smallest sofa with your laptop sitting in your lap and your headphones placed over your ears to block out the noise from the team outside and the cars on the track.

It had been hours and you were content in the alone time you were getting, it was just you and your music playing in your ears that you didn’t notice the multiple calls you were receiving.

Unbeknownst to you, outside of his office, your husband was kicking off and nothing anyone did or said could calm him down.

The team had never witnessed Toto as angry as he was right now, the veins in his forehead more prominent than ever and whilst most didn’t understand the German words coming out of his mouth, they knew he couldn’t be saying anything nice.

Bono was trying to get a hold of you for possibly the twentieth time and he was still having no luck, he felt the pressure of the teams eyes on him, begging for the news that you’d be coming knowing that he was only one of a few that had your number and the means to find you right now but he wasn’t getting anywhere.

Poor Lewis and George were getting the brunt of the Austrian’s anger and even though they hadn’t a clue of what he was saying, they were starting to question the security of their jobs.

Luckily, a mechanic who had just entered the garage and was completely taken aback by the scene in front of him, awkwardly side shuffled to Bono and questioned what was going on. "He’s acting crazy! I can’t get a hold of Y/N."

"Didn’t she go straight into his office when they arrived earlier?" The mechanic asked.

Bono looked at him in shock and relief before jumping to his feet and wasting no time as he jogged in the direction of Toto’s office.

It was rude but he didn’t bother knocking, he almost cried when he saw you sitting there.

You got the fright of your life as the door burst open but the sight of a frantic Bono caused you to remove your headphones and look at him in confusion.

"Oh thank god you’re here! Toto’s gone mental!"

You released a sigh at his words and pushed your laptop to the side and got up from the sofa. "What for now?"

"I honestly have no idea but if he doesn’t calm down soon then Lewis and George might just start crying and Toto looks like he’s about to burst a blood vessel."

The moment you stepped out into the short, narrow corridor you heard your husbands angry German shouting. "Mein Gott," you muttered to yourself.

Entering the main part of the garage you weren’t greeted by a pretty sight at all, Bono wasn’t overreacting in the way he described Toto, Lewis and George and let’s not forget about the rest of the team.

You headed straight for your husband, not acknowledging the looks of relief you saw build on everyone’s faces, especially the two drivers’.

You didn’t even need to say anything to Toto, you just stood in front of him and looked up at him with a stern gaze that soon got him to shut up but his eyes were still blazing with fury as he looked down at you, you knew his anger wasn’t aimed at you, he was just still pent up with emotions.

You nodded in the direction of his office and simply walked away, expecting him to follow after you if he knew what was good for him.

He followed you.

The moment you heard him close the door you turned to him. "This needs to stop."

He looked at you furiously, "how am I supposed to stop when I have two drivers that can’t even get through a lap without crashing into each other!"

"Don’t you dare talk to me like that, Torger!" Your voice cut through the air as you glared at him which soon caused his face to shift from angry to wounded as you scolded him.

"How hard is it for you to simply sit them down and give them a stern talking to, there’s no need for the way you completely blow your top, you’re acting like a child throwing a tantrum."

He was still beyond angry, you could see it in his eyes and the way he shifted on his feet and he was about to retort but you cut him off. "I don’t want to hear you right now, I want you to sit down in silence and calm down before a single word comes out of your mouth."

He pursed his lips, not at all happy but he did as he was told and sat down in the chair behind the small desk, you didn’t spare him a glance as you sat yourself back where you were before Bono came searching for you, pulling your laptop back onto your lap to finish what you had been doing.

It was a good 15/20 minutes later when you heard him get up from his seat and make his way over to you. He sat beside you and rested his head on your shoulder causing you to roll your eyes but a smile grew on your face at his actions, you were glad he couldn’t see it though.

You continued to carry on with what you were doing, letting him decide how he wanted your conversation to go and so it remained silent for a few more minutes with you and Toto simply sat there, him resting against you simply soaking up the comfort of your presence.

He shifted and pressed a kiss to your temple before returning back to his position. "Are you mad at me?" He asked when you remained silent.

You closed your laptop and put it away before shifting the both of you so you were up straight and looking at each other. "No," you told him honestly, "I just wish you wouldn’t let your frustrations get the best of you all the time."

He looked down at your words before looking back into your eyes with a sincere look, "I’m sorry."

"It’s okay," you smiled at him, reaching out a hand to brush his hair back. "We just need to find a way for you to keep yourself together."

"You’re the way," he replied immediately which stunned you and he was okay with that. He pulled you into his arms and you both just sat there.

You could be quite the opposite at times but you were content with that because you would always be there to ground him whenever his emotions got out of control.

Wait, what?

Bucky x pregnant reader 

A/N: My first request ever from @slutforsexyseabass this made me so happy, I LOVE concepts like this. Such a sucker for hidden relationships, I hope I did this justice, I will 100% rewrite this if you imagined it differently. I loved this concept SO much, I wrote this with three different endings. What the hell is wrong with me? Everything :) Cutest concept ever, thank you for this. Please like, comment and reblog <3 

Warnings: Angst and fluff!! Pregnancy, swearing Word count: 3.9k  (I’m so sorry, i just kept adding each time I imagined the ending differently) 

Back story + baby Barnes (sort of part 2?)

I do (again) part 3?

4 months ago

“Are you sure you want this?”

You sighed, having spent the last hour trying to convince Fury to let you transfer to a desk job. Granted, it was an odd request coming from you because you loved your role as an Avenger and you had sworn you wouldn’t leave the job for anything else.

“Is there a specific reason you want to transfer agent?” He gave you a pointed look, clearly insinuating he already knew why you wanted this transfer.

“I-its for the best, at least for a little while” You fiddled with a pen on his desk, looking all around the room, avoiding eye contact. Fury nodded, you knew he knew.

“Alright. I’ll approve it. You understand when you transfer, visits and interactions with your teammates are not permitted under any circumstances. How does 1 year and 9 months sound?”

Your face heated up, as you chuckled, nodding. “It sounds perfect. Thank you” You made your way to the door with your transfer starting immediately.  

“Congratulations Agent. To you and Mr. Barnes”  

Keep reading

Copycat

Paring: Simon Riley x taskmaster!reader, Dreykov!reader. Mention of Bucky and Steve (there married, oops 🙊).

Summary: A new Avenger teams up with Taskforce 141, turns out her and Ghost are a like.

Warning: trauma, mixing the avengers and cod together, grammar errors probably. Not a huge fan on how I ended it.

“You didn’t tell us she was fucking crazy.” Soap said to Price and Laswell.

“You didn’t ask.” Price cheekily answered.

Simon glared at him, “where’d she come from?”

“Fury from The Avengers team sent her, said she was the best,” Laswell responded.

That made sense. The Avengers were a bunch of glorified superheroes. A mix of super soldiers and non-human things, they dealt with their kind while we dealt with wars in other countries.

“She killed twenty men in two minutes with her bare hands. What the fuck?” Soap said in shock.

“What can you tell us about her?” Simon asked.

Price and Laswell looked at each other, “not much. She’s 23, her name was Taskmaster, but we call her Copycat now.” Price told.

“That’s it?” Soap asked.

“She has a violent history that is not ours to tell. I suggest you be nice. She can put us all down in a second. Now walk away.” Laswell spoke.

——

Over the few weeks you’ve been around Taskforce 141, you didn’t speak much. The team quickly realized you also wore a mask like Ghost. Ghost warmed up to you well. He didn’t talk to you much like most of the team but he was nice to you. He offered you hellos and little waves while passing in the halls. He assumed you’d give him smiles, he always wanted to see you smile.

You sat in your room with the door open. No one was around, either on missions or out in training. You open your laptop and clicked on zoom, taking off the mask, you heard your therapist speak, “Hi Y/N,”

“Hi Doctor.” You said quietly.

What the team didn’t know was that you were in court-mandated therapy just like your friend Bucky was. You committed war crimes, however, they weren’t your fault, something you haven’t yet accepted.

“How are the nightmares?” She asked.

Ghost was walking down the hall, something you didn’t hear, Ghost was always light on his feet. He heard your soft voice speaking through your door. You left it wide open, something out of character.

He peaked his head to look in your room and saw you at your desk. He noticed the mask was off, your hair in two French braids. “The nightmares haven’t happened often, I’ve been able to control the noise, you know, so I don’t wake up the team.” You shrugged.

I shouldn’t be listening, Ghost thought to himself, but he couldn’t move away. He leaned against the wall next to your door frame. “How’s the team? Your new placement?” The lady asked.

You were quiet for a moment, “nice. They kinda leave me alone.” You sigh. It wasn’t easy making friends, Ghost felt a little bad, “There is one guy though. We call him Ghost.” You started.

His heart fluttered, he had to place a hand over it. He’s never felt that before. Ghost knew he shouldn’t be listening, but he couldn’t move. “He’s nice to me, he waves and says hi. It feels nice to be acknowledged. I’d like to think he’s cute too.” You admitted.

Ghost nearly choked on air, he covered his mouth at your confession, “you have a crush? That’s good, feeling new emotion. We’ve been working hard on that.” The lady spoke.

That’s when Ghost realized that this was a therapy session, “is that what a crush feels like? I never knew what friendships or crushes were since the Red Room. Growing up with him, being that killing machine, I didn’t get a chance at being a girl. Being me.” Your body is visibly slouched.

The red room? What in the hell was that, and you grew up in it. “The mask too? Ghost wears one.” You sat up straight at the mention of his name.

“Yeah, I find comfort knowing he wears one too, though I don’t know why. I’m sure it’s to secure his identity, meanwhile, mine is to hide the ugly scar I live with.”

That’s when Ghost knew he couldn’t listen anymore. He couldn’t listen to you putting yourself down, belittling yourself. He walked away.

—

You often sat out on training, you’d rather watch the men than utterly destroy them. You memorized every single member of the team's moves, besides, no one offered to spare with you. You sat in silence watching Soap and Ghost spare, 9 out of 10 times, Ghost won.

“It’s not a fair fight,” Soap complained. “But you wouldn’t know a fair fight.” Soap smiled.

Ghost looked up at you, “Cat!” His voice boomed. You looked up confused at the new nickname. “Come on, let’s spare.”

Soap looked surprised. You uncrossed your legs, fixing your yoga pants and grabbing a pair of gloves. “This won’t be fair.” You spoke up.

“Cocky,” Soap said with a smirk.

Through all the matches, Ghost didn’t win but once, and even then, he thought you let him. “I wasn’t called the Taskmaster for nothing.” You said to Ghost helping him up.

You looked around and noticed everyone had left the room, “who calls you the Taskmaster?” He asked, He wanted more information on you.

You gave him a weary look, but you’d consider him a friend and to keep friends you need to make an effort, said your therapist. “The Red Room, heh,” you nervously chuckled.

“You don’t have to tell me anything if you don’t want.” He said, Please tell me everything! He begged in his mind.

“No, it’s okay. I trust you.” You quietly spoke sitting down on the mat. Ghost couldn’t help but smile under his mask, “the Red Room was a training facility in Russia. We were trained to be the deadliest assassins. It wasn’t supposed to be my life, my father was the leader. But after the explosion, he couldn’t stand my face and made me who I am today.” You explained.

“He noticed my ability to memorize patterns. He put a chip in me like the other girls, made me a suit of armor, and I was forced to train newbies and kill innocents. I was a daddy’s girl once, but then I was nothing more than an ugly killer.” You whispered the last part more to yourself. “Thats the nonviolent story of my life.”

Ghost sat down with you, “I know you're not ugly.” You scoffed at him, not believing him. “I'm serious.” He said.

“I bet you're not ugly either.” You told him, “take it off.” You said with a little tease. He could see you smile through that mask.

“Only if you do.” He responded. You looked around the room, “you don’t have to Cat.” He said

“No, just, not here.” You stood up then Ghost stood up and followed you to your room.

Shutting the door behind you, you sat on your bed, patting the space next to you. “Thank you for being a friend. It’s scary how alike we are. I only have one friend back at hom, well, two if you could his husband, you’d like him. He’s full of trauma like me.” You chuckled.

“Anytime.” He said. You looked at him and then placed your hands on your mask. Slowly you pulled it up revealing your face. Your hair is in French braids but a little messier. He sees the scar on your face, a big burn scar all over your cheek, and partly on your forehead, but he still thinks you are beautiful.

“I don’t see the ugliness,” he said stroking your scarred cheek.

“Show me your face?” you asked. He pulled his mask up placing it down on yours and he ruffled his hair. He had a deep scar on his lower cheek down to his Adam's apple, “your handsome. The scar makes you look, dangerous.” You admitted.

“I am dangerous.” He replied. You giggled, and his heart started to beat faster. “And so are you Cat.”

You wanted to kiss him and like he read your mind he placed both hands on your cheeks and pulled you close kissing you passionately. He was going to help you feel normal, to feel spoiled and loved for the first time in your life.

princess treatment pt.3? with mbappé, richarlison, and erling haaland? :)

# PRINCESS TREATMENT 3! — footballers! (final!)

— SUMMARY: you show off the princess treatment you get from your footballers boyfriends! (part 1) (part 2)

CONTENT: fluff, footballers being simps, light jealousy, sensual themes, just cute stuff overall!

PARINGS: earling haaland x fem!reader, richarlison x fem!reader, oliver giroud x fem!reader

NOTE: someone asked for giroud content so I combined it with this lol! any examples of this do not represent of the body type, race or ethnicity of the reader! tysm for reading! 💕

RICHARLISON DE ANDRADE — dollar bills!

Recently you saw a trend on TikTok where girls would hold their hands out to their boyfriends, friends, brothers or literally anybody to see what they would do.

Richarlison was currently playing video games with his friends on FaceTime but fortunately you placed your camera in the room before he went in & you’ve been recording ever since.

You were holding your phone camera in your hand as discreetly as possible to not alert your boyfriend about the challenge your trying on him. “Baby? are you in here?” You peaked into his gaming room spotting him on his chair as he shouted at Neymar for something in among us.

Hearing your voice his head whipped around and he opened his arms signalling you to come over, you shuffled over giving him a hug as his head was pressed onto your stomach & hands were wrapped around your ass.

Once you both pulled away your challenge had begun as you stuck out your palm standing there with a bright smile, at first he hadn’t noticed anything as he turned back to the computer screen.

Until you were standing there for a good 30 seconds & he spun his head around to look at you quickly before looking back at the screen, he took his hand off the mouse taking your hand flipping it over to the backside of your hand & giving it a kiss.

He turned back to the screen until he realized you were still standing there; cheeky smile on your face palm still stuck out in-front of you, he chuckled as he dug through his pants pulling out his wallet.

“Richarlison? Are you still there?” Neymar called at alerting him that the new round had started.

“Yeah I’m here hold on.” He replied back as he fished through his wallet grabbing a huge stack of cashing & placing it in your hand along with his black card. “Happy?” He asked looking up at your face which was filled with surprise.

You hadn’t expected him to give you this much money let alone any at all as you assumed he’d just take your hand & place it on his private parts. You scoffed happily curling your fingers over the stack. “Definitely, but what will I even do with this much money?”

“Whatever you’d like baby, it’s all yours.” He answered turning his head back to the screen & unmuting himself on face-time. You gave him a quick kiss pulling his face towards you before walking away checking your phone to see if the footage was recorded.

You edited the video a little before posting it captioning it with: “HE’S SO SWEET 😭😭” Seconds later likes, comments & replies came flooding in about how Richarlison was the perfect boyfriend.

OLIVER GIROUD — first class!

“You’re so excited baby have you never flown out of the country?” Oliver chuckled watching you practically fly out of the valet car that was escorting you to the airport tarmac.

Ever since you complained about how you haven’t gone on a vacation in a while that very day Oliver booked your dream vacation paying for unnecessary expenses like tour guides & other things; as-long as it made you happy he thought.

“I have! I’ve never been to the Mal Dives though.” You answered pulling his arm to get him out of the car, you both didn’t need to worry about your luggage since Oliver paid for it to be flown before-hand.

“I’m coming babe hold on, you’re gonna rip my arm off.” Oliver laughed as he stepped out of the car turning his head to look at what you were staring at all starry eyed.

“Look, it’s a private jet. Just for the two of us.” You rambled on about the jet standing in-front of you both, you were used to Oliver spending a fortune on you whether it was cars, jewellery or even 1000 roses but a whole jet was much different.

“I know, do you like it?” He asked as he placed his hands in his pockets leaning back and forth between his heels and his toes. “Are you kidding? Who wouldn’t like this.” You laughed in disbelief.

“I’m glad you like it, c’mon baby let’s board the plane before they leave without us.” Oliver took your hand into his as he directed you towards the plane, you greeted the flight attendant who was waiting for you at the entrance as she guiding you both to your seats.

Once you both were settled in your chairs chatting happily about your upcoming adventures a flight attendant had came around with a cart filled with expensive looking drinks & desserts. “Champagne or Club Soda?” She asked with a smile.

“Champagne please, babe what about you?” You turned to look at your boyfriend who was staring at the window as he unconsciously caressed your knuckles with his thumb, you squeezed your hand bringing his attention back to you.

“Hmm? Oh, I’ll have whatever your having.” He leaned into kiss you on your cheek before turning to stare out the window again continuing to stroke your knuckles, you smiled turning back to the attendant,“2 Champagnes please.”

As the flight attended walked away Oliver noticed that you had a particularly slummed look on your face, you were just jumping around in joy so seeing you down worried him.“Are you okay?”

“Yep! Just thinking of what we’re gonna do when we get there.” You sent your signature “i’m fine” smile his way continuing you tap your feet against the empty seat right in-front of you as you looked back down to face your feet.

“You look worried though.” He let go of your hand using his freed hand to pull your face towards his forcing you to face him, seeing his eyes filled with concern made you sigh before continuing, “Yeah it’s just, how much was this trip?”

His face soften hearing what you we’re concerned about, you both had fight’s about money in the past & about how Oliver spent way to much money on pointless things,“Oh, don’t worry about that baby.”

“I have too, you can’t go broke because you wanna please me. I’ll be fine with whatever you provide.” You admitted in a quiet voice turning your head to face the window across from your aisle. “With my profession I’ll go broke the day you go bald.”

“What if I go Bald tomorrow?” You wanted to laugh at his joke but it was quite hard knowing you really could go bald tomorrow & Oliver could become broke, after all nobody knows what could happen.

“You wouldn’t, what I’m trying to say is. I spend this money to make you smile, whether it’s a large purchase or small it’s for you. In this case; a private jet just for my princess.”

Hearing your boyfriend be so adamant about you spending his money & not thinking of you as a sugar baby or a gold digger relieved you greatly. Yes, you both were dating but you weren’t a mind reader, for all you know he could be planning to kill you.

“Alright then, on that note; I could get used to this. Fast.” You pushed your insecure thoughts to the side as you settled into your seat properly reclining the seat, feeling in all the luxuries to the max. He chuckled at your childishness as he wrapped his arm around your shoulder pulling you in.

“Get used to it baby, you’re stuck with me, my jet & my money forever.”

ERLING HAALAND — giant teddybear!

“I told you not to eat so many sweets before went on the ride, no wonder you almost threw up.” Your boyfriend reminded you as he leaned over helping you walk throughout the winter carnival without collapsing.

Seeing that his good friend Jude had gone recently to the Winter Wonderland you decided it be good for the both of you to go as well, until it wasn’t. It was either Erling was too tall for some of the rides or you chickened out just looking at it.

But seeing as you were low-key being a party pooper for your boyfriend who you basically forced to come to the attraction you decided to go onto the wildest ride there was available; bad, bad idea.

Erling had bought you almost every single foot item you looked at for to long filling your stomach much faster than you’d like, by the 4th taco you ate you were ready to unbutton your pants & burst.

“It was fun wasn’t it though?” You groaned out patting the shoulder of your boyfriend signalling him to slow down as you felt as if you were going to barf, he slowed down waiting for you to gain your composure.

Seeing as you took a little longer than usual he bent down pulling your body on his back giving you a piggyback ride, you on the other hand smirked into his back tucking your legs around his waist. “All apart of my plan.” You muttered into his neck taking in his scent.

“Did you say something?” Erling asked as he begun to walk passing by multiple food-stalls that just the smell of the food made you sick, you wrapped your arms around his neck & placed your head in the crook of his collarbone.

“Nope! Nothing! Don’t worry about it baby.” You whispered into his ear closing your eyes in the process, as Erling walked past multiple stalls you closed your eyes feeling peaceful almost falling asleep till you jolted up after feeling as if you were falling.

As you opened your eyes you looked around seeing that the entrance was just a few miles away, something also caught your eye; a stand with gigantic teddy bears. “Baby?”

“Hmm?” he hummed, waiting for you to say what you needed.

“Can you win that for me before we leave?” You asked him patting his shoulder to get him to slow down so he didn’t walk right by the stand.“Win what?”

“The giant teddy bear.” You slid down his back and turned towards the stall pointing to the humongous teddy bears.

“You’re such a child, fine.” Erling walked towards the stand grabbing a few of the tennis balls on the desk as he backed away throwing them at the targets scoring on each one of them.

The man at the stall handed him a giant pink bear almost the size of you leaving Erling to walk back to you giant big bear in hand stupid grin on his face, you took the bear out of his hand giving it a big squeeze. “Thanks baby.”

“What should I name him?” You asked as you both continued to walked towards the exits hand in hand, hearing that Erling turned to you looking at you weirdly, “You name your teddy bears?”

“Of course! Since you won him for me I’ll name him, Erlie.” You smiled at him squeezing his hand, Erling chuckled at your ridiculous as he bent down to give you a kiss on your forehead.

“You’re too cute, but Erlie is a horrible nickname love. Makes him sound like an old man.”

Random Halo idea;

Imagine you’re trying to get away from some creeps on the street and run up to one unsuspecting seven foot tall man, latch onto his arm and whisper beg him to pretend to be your boyfriend. He agrees, albeit confused and a bit worried but quickly identifies why you are so scared. His arm drapes around your waist as he walks you back to the compound where a Spartan in white armor approaches the two of you, leaving you confused-… at least, until she speaks.

“Master chief, sir.”

And all the sudden you’re paralyzed with more than just fear of the people that had been chasing you, but at the mortification of you practically begging the Master Chief to pretend to be your boyfriend, his arm around you feeling like fire as your face turns red.

Bucky angst fic idea!

Bucky always flirting with Sarah to make Y/n jealous, but what he doesn't realise is all these are just making her more insecure and hurting her (blame my past relationships for that).

And it's quite apparent that she's hurt. By the time he realises, Y/n is deep into the spiral. But obviously, a happy and fluffy ending (maybe smut), cause otherwise I will die from broken heart 😩😩

I hope you enjoy this! and I'm sorry you've had bad experiences with relationships. It's their loss.

summary - bucky flirts with sarah to make you jealous, forgetting that you aren't as secure as you come off.

warning - angst, fluff.

the gif I use isn't mine, divider by @newlips

‘Did I do something wrong?’ You think as you watch Bucky laugh at something Sarah said. ‘Maybe I’m not pretty enough for him anymore?’ His eyes flicker over to you, shooting you a smirk before he looks back at her, touching her arm softly with his metal one. ‘What could he be saying for her to laugh like that?’ You don’t know why you're doing this to yourself, but you continue to watch. Every laugh, every touch, every word sends pain through your chest.

You don’t notice Sam looking over at you, and you don’t see how he shoots daggers at Bucky and his sister. The only time you are brought out of your haze is when you hear shouting, blinking away the tears in your eyes. Your gaze focuses on Sam pushing and punching Bucky, screaming at him. You watch as he turns and begins shouting at his sister. 

You get up and decide to leave because watching Bucky fight back and defend another woman and his actions feels more painful than watching them flirt. After walking for a while, you come across a secluded area with a beautiful ocean view, feeling so lost in your head that you don’t get to enjoy the sounds of nature around you. Your mind was too busy racing with thoughts of not being good enough for anyone anymore that maybe you should’ve never fallen for the blue-eyed soldier's smile or sweet words.

Because you left, you don’t notice Bucky’s gaze focusing on the empty spot or that he no longer hears Sam screaming in his ear. You don’t see the utter panic appearing on Bucky’s face or that he begins to spin, frantically searching for you. You are so lost in your head that you don’t hear him screaming your name, you don’t hear him finding you, you don’t hear the utter relief in his voice when he whispers your name.

Because why would you? This man you thought was supposed to love you and only you, who wasn’t supposed to hurt you, did. Knowing how insecure you are, pulling you deeper into your mind that, of course, you wouldn’t notice him looking for you or finding you. Because you didn’t think Bucky cared enough to come looking for you, you thought that he’d be too lost in Sarah’s eyes to notice you missing. 

“Baby?” Bucky walks forward, “Doll?” His brows furrow as he doesn’t receive a response, walking so that he’s in front of you. His heart jumps in his throat when he sees how far he’s pushed you. Bucky quickly crouches down, taking your tear-soaked cheeks in his hands. “Babydoll, I’m so sorry! Fuck, I’m such an idiot. Baby, baby!” He strokes your cheeks with his thumb, desperately trying to bring you out of this. His arms wrap around your body, picking you up and carrying you to the house, dismissing Sam and Sarah when they try to step forward. 

He carries you to the guest room, cradling your face into his neck as he whispers sweet nothings against your hair. Bucky lies down, bringing you with him, holding you tightly against his body. “I’m so so sorry, babydoll. You are the only one I have eyes for, believe me! You are the reason I wake up in the morning, the only thing I look forward to.” His blue eyes flicker down to your face, noticing that yours are focused on his face, finally brought out of your state but staying quiet. 

Bucky strokes your bottom lip, staring at you lovingly. “I love you so much, and I will forever be sorry for what I’ve done. I should have realised that trying to make you jealous wasn’t right and was pathetic. I have such a beautiful dame on my arm, yet I felt the need to be a jerk.” His eyes fill with tears, and a sigh of relief leaves him when you roll over and cuddle into him. 

“I love you too, Bucky. But please don’t do it again.” You look up at him, pleading with your eyes as you don’t know if you’ll survive being hurt like that again. 

“Of course, doll. I’ll never do it again. You’re my doll forever and as long as you have me. I’ll continue making it up to you.” He places a soft kiss against your head, holding you tight against him as you both slowly drift off to sleep.

thank you for reading!

feedback and reblogs are greatly appreciated.

WAG-In-Training - Jude Bellingham.

Summary: Reader is insecure about her capabilities of being a WAG and feeling like she doesn’t fit in, especially after seeing the others at the World Cup.

Warnings: Insecurities, body image issues, brief mentions of lack of eating,very angsty.

A/n: please comment and reblog if you’d like too, i love to hear your feedback <3

Y/f/n = your friends name

-

You were ushered quickly into the stadium after giving Jude a quick good luck kiss when he got off the team bus.

The girlfriends of the other England players were surrounding you, all taking pictures of the stadium and pitch, some ushering their kids in with them.

The initial noise put you on edge slightly, your fingers itching to play with something as the nerves grow inside you.

You play with the hem of the blue and white football shirt Jude had given you to wear, his number and surname printed proudly on the back.

“You should tie that up, it would look so cute” Lucia, Marcus’ fiancée, says to you sweetly as you bite your lip looking at all the people in their seats.

You look in her eyes before looking at all of the other WAGs, their shirts tied into crop tops either at the front or tucked in at the back in an invisible knot.

You look down at yours to see it draping down past your hips, the shirt slightly too big for you, Jude doing it purposefully as he knows that’s how you like to wear his jerseys.

He, of course, prefers it too when you wear them with just your underwear on, the material of his shirts near the middle of your thighs.

Yourself and Lucia had grown quite close, the cruise ship all of the WAGs and families were staying on had placed your rooms next to each other, meaning you spent a lot of time together.

“Yeah, maybe I should” you say, beginning to bunch the shirt up at the front.

“Here, let me” the short girl says as she softly gatherers the material and twists the back together tightly before tucking it under the looser material of the shirt leaving you in a DIY crop top.

“Can you still see his number?” You ask, your priority being to support your boyfriend rather than to look good.

“Yep! You look so hot” she claps her hands together as she looks at you, “picture?” She asks and you laugh before nodding and leaning into her.

She shows you the picture afterwards and you agree, you do look cute.

But no where near as good as the others in the back of the picture.

Their makeup flawless, their hair with not a single strand out of place, their nails done perfectly with fake tan on and not a single hint of patchiness.

You can’t help but sigh leading Lucia to furrow her eyebrows but luckily the security ushering the both of you to sit in your seats distracts her.

You take your seat and cross one leg over the other, your arm naturally crossing over your stomach to hide it.

You feel the skin of your arm touch the skin of your stomach and instantly grow worried.

You look down to see your skin slightly over the edge of the hem of your jeans.

You wince at your appearance before pulling at the folded hem of your shirt and flattening it out back to normal.

“You okay?” Saka’s girlfriend says as he places her hand on your arm from your other side.

You smile at her concern, her being the closest in age to you, you had also grown quite close.

You look at her makeup, hair and nails and immediately feel sad again.

What would Jude think when he looks up to see you next to all these beautiful girls?

You just didn’t think you could compare to them.

“Just cold” you nod at her, a tight lipped smile being forced on your face.

“It’s 30 degrees?” She laughs jokingly at you, her perfect smile never fading.

“Yeah” you laugh awkwardly, thankful when the players come out of the tunnel and the crowd for growing out anything the two girls could’ve said.

You look at Jude and take a few pictures, knowing he’d want to remember his first World Cup regardless of the result.

Being called up at 19 was very impressive, he deserves a better girl, a prettier one, you think.

From your phone screen you see him look up to you and you blow him a kiss.

He furrows his brows at you and you instantly know he can sense something is wrong.

You smile widely at him anyway, a poor attempt to convince him that nothing is wrong.

-

After only a few minutes, the ball is crossed into the box, the perfect place for your boyfriend to leap forewords and head it into the back of the net.

The crowd instantly erupts into cheers as you witness your boyfriend score his first international goal in the opening match of the World Cup for England.

You jump up from your seat and scream as loud as you can for your boyfriend, clapping and jumping for joy as you watch him open his arms out to the crowd.

The other WAGs around you cheer as well as take pictures of you celebrating your boyfriends goal, happy for you but also happy of the new addition to their group. You not having met Jude before the Euros.

Before Jude joins the rest of players in restarting the game, he looks up to where you’re sat and blows you a kiss.

You catch it and blow him one back making him pretend to catch it and put it on his heart.

The both of you laugh as the WAGs around you ‘aw’ at the two of you young lovers.

-

The game ends with a brilliant win for England but sadly you aren’t able to see Jude before he’s whisked away on the team bus and driven back to camp.

You sit on your bed in your room for the next month or so, your boss being a football fan so allowing the time off on the promise of a signed shirt from Jude.

A towel wrapped around your body and your hair while you rest on top of the blankets, cooling down.

You pick up your phone and see Jude’s post, liking it and commenting how proud you are of him.

Shortly after, you receive a text.

J 🤍 :

You looked so beautiful tonight, im so happy you came. That goal was for you.

You instantly started smiling and clicked on the notification.

No, that goal was for yourself. Breaking so many records, J. I’m so proud of you and I couldn’t love you anymore.

You type back, the message immediately being marked as ‘read’ and you smile knowing he was sat there waiting for you to reply.

It’s not long before another response comes through.

J 🤍:

I wish I was with you, I didn’t even get a goodbye kiss 🙄

You laugh at his use of emoji before replying.

You know, I would’ve loved to give you one more than anything baby. I’ll see you tomorrow after training, now get some sleep, I know you’re tired.

You swipe out of messages before you get his response so you know he will actually sleep.

After a short while of browsing instagram, you come across an article posted by ‘brfootball’ on your explore page.

You click on the link seeing a picture of you.

Your eyes widen when you see the title.

‘Does England’s Golden Boy deserve better?’

Your brows furrow seeing a picture of you from the match this evening, you taking a picture of Jude when he was on the pitch.

You scroll down to continue reading the article.

‘Y/n Y/l/n, the latest edition to the WAG squad, was seen at tonight’s match with her new beau’s shirt on. Unfortunately for the young lady, it’s clear she doesn’t belong. Her shirt falling below her waist to conceal the curves she may or may not have, the other WAGs however, looking stunning. Their stomachs on show as they clap for their partners, perfectly manicured nails decorating their hands. Yet another thing Miss y/l/n seems to diverge from. I’d like to say she’s a diamond in the rough but unfortunately I think it’s the other way round. This leaves us with the question of whether Jude Bellingham deserves better. Does he? Let us know via our email’

You feel tears sting at your waterline as you read the harsh words.

Quickly you shut off your phone and close your eyes, wishing desperately to fall asleep.

-

A few weeks later, and the first match back at Dortmund looms.

After that first match at the World Cup, you became more reluctant to go to matches, making excuses that you had to stay at your cruise ship suit to do some work your boss said was essential for you to do.

Jude became slightly suspicious but unfortunately, England was knocked out a few weeks later leading any questions to go unanswered.

“Babe please come to the first match of the season. I need you there” he says, his chin resting on your stomach.

“I’ll see, I’ll probably have work though” you reply, to which his brows furrow and his head lifts from his previous position.

“Take some time off?” He says nonchalantly.

“Jude I’ve already taken a month off to be with you in a whole other country” you reply, your tone still soft but anger bubbling.

“But you told me he still set work for you to do?” He says referring to his boss, you feel slightly caught out yet you don’t want to explain the real reason, fearing that he might realise he does deserve better.

“Well I was away from work, not there at the office where I should have been” you say, anger now in your voice, not at him but yourself.

Why did you have to lie in the first place? Why couldn’t you be as pretty as the others? Why did that article have to be written?

“I’m so sorry that coming to support me was such a chore for you” he says, his voice sarcastic as he pulls himself off your stomach and up on his face, his taller frame seeming slightly threatening as he stands over you, you still laying across the sofa.

“Jude, that’s not what I meant. I mean that I can’t just upend my whole life for you. I have an actual job that I’ve worked hard to get, I can’t constantly ask for time off. That’s not how a real job works, that’s not real life Jude.” You reply, sitting up so he’s less threatening.

“So I don’t do a real job” he says, his voice raising to a shout.

“Not a conventional one, no! You have an easy life, you get paid a ridiculous amount of money to turn up to training for two hours and then come back home. You earn what I earn in a year, in a week, Jude. A week!” You say, your voice at a shout now too.

You don’t know how your insecurities turned into this shouting match but you are damn sure you don’t mean any of the words you are saying. You know his life is hard, you suppose it’s just jealousy.

“Oh yeah my life is so easy. I love getting racially abused for playing for my country. I love getting death threats for putting the ball just slightly wide of the net. You’re right! It’s great!” His voice is filled with sarcasm and disgust as he shouts at you.

Both with the fact that’s a normal reaction for you, from anyone who raises their voice at you, but also for the fact you know he’s right, from the beginning he’s right, yet you just can’t bring yourself to rectify the situation and tell the truth.

“That’s not what I meant Jude, im sorry” you say, your voice softer now yet his still loud one makes you flinch.

“You’re so selfish sometimes. You know what, maybe I don’t need you at the match.” He shouts before storming off upstairs and slamming the bedroom door making you flinch again.

Your eyes don’t move from the floor and the house goes eerily quiet.

Not one of you making any hint of noise.

You always liked peace, yet in this tranquil silence your whole body felt shackled with unrest.

A tear rolled down your face, the cool diamond dancing down your heated skin, leaving a trail of discomfort as the salt solution dried down.

It was at that moment you decided you would be everything Jude needed, wanted even, and more.

-

After the fight, you went back to your house, the both of you still quite young and not ready to actually live together yet.

You hadn’t spoken other than Jude occasionally asking you whether you were okay.

One thing about that man is that no matter how mad he is at you, he will always make sure you are safe.

Today is match day and you can’t wait to show Jude everything you did for him.

You went and got your nails done, longer than you expected and now you are struggling to function but he doesn’t need to know that.

You got your hair done, and styled to make sure you look perfect.

You also got your makeup done because you thought if you are going all out, you might as well feel confident while doing so.

You put on your most expensive outfit and paired it with Jude’s Dortmund shirt, cropped, before you are out the door.

He doesn’t know you’re coming, he doesn’t even know what you’ve been up to the past two days, yet you have a feeling he’ll be thrilled with what you’ve planned.

You find your usual seat you used to sit at, before the article of course, and waited for the match to begin.

Sunglasses over your eyes the way you saw the other WAGs do during the World Cup.

Despite not feeling the part, you definitely looked the part. And about 5 years older than you are.

Jude noticed you first when he was in the line before the match, the mascot in front of him and the captains armband on his arm.

Your heart drops slightly, you’re the girlfriend of a Captain (or a future captain), you have to start putting maximum effort in now. No doubt about it.

He almost did a double take, not sure whether it was you or not, your usual smiling face replaced with a slight pout, mirroring the other WAGs.

You didn’t see from the distance of the two of you but he furrowed his brows, confusion taking over him.

None the less, he had to focus. The match was what was important.

A few minutes into the match, Jude scored.

The infamous yellow wall erupting into cheers as you stay sat down, clapping gently the same way you saw the other WAGs do. The high profile ones.

Jude looked over to you, about to blow a kiss like he usually does but then he sees you, sat down and looking unimpressed.

So different to how supportive and free you looked during the World Cup.

He missed that you, yet another had seemed to push its way to the front.

You weren’t his you anymore.

You met Jude at your car, having called his mum to ask if you could drive him this time.

She of course said yes, she loves you. So much.

“I’m sorry Jude” you say straight away as he walks towards you, hands in his pockets as he drags his feet towards you.

“You shouldn’t be sorry, i should” he says in response, instantly pulling you in for a hug, his arms enveloping you as his scent fills your senses.

“No. I’ve missed you, so much” you say, your nails scratching the base of his neck.

“Ouch!” He proclaims, jumping away from you slightly.

You pull your hands from behind his neck and look at your ridiculously long nails.

“Sorry” you apologise again.

“I thought you didn’t like acrylic nails?” He asks, your man always asked too many questions, and remembered too many little details about you.

However the latter never fails to warm your heart.

“I thought I’d give it a try” you say, covering your arse yet again.

“Okay” he says, his brows raising and it’s obvious he doesn’t believe you but he moves on.

“Let’s go home” he says as he gets in his side.

“Okay passenger princess. Yours or mine?” you tease him, knowing he hates when you call him that.

“Hey! You know I haven’t had time to learn to drive yet! I’m a busy man with my ‘easy job’ and mine” he quotes you making you both laugh.

-

After a short drive, you arrive back at his place, two of you looking at a takeaway menu, deciding on what to get to celebrate his win.

“I think I’ll just get a salad” you say, knowing that’s not what you truly want.

“What? Why? You aren’t going for your usual?” Jude asks, he knows how much you love your favourite dish and you rarely eat proper salads as the main meal.

“Just not that hungry” lies. You hadn’t eaten more than a banana in two days.

“Right, okay” Jude sighs, his tone soft but quiet as he looks over the menu.

Your phone starts ringing from its place on the counter making both you and Jude look at it.

“It’s y/f/n , I should take this” you say and Jude nods in approval before you walk into his room for some slightly privacy, with your best friend, you never know what you’re going to get.

“Do you want to tell me why you looked the way you did at tonight’s match?” She says when you pick up.

“Huh?” You say, confused and slightly shocked at how brash she is.

“Why the sunglasses? It’s winter.” She starts.

Fair point

“Why the makeup and hair and clothes? Don’t get me wrong, you looked hot but that isn’t you. I’ve never seen you look like that before” she asks, a normal person might take offence but you know she’s right. That wasn’t you.

“I don’t know. Just trying something new” you reply, shrugging your shoulders but your voice becomes slightly unstable.

“Y/n. Please, what’s going on?” Her voice grows quiet, the delicacy in her voice making a sob escape your mouth.

You’re not entirely sure where it comes from but the recognition that the WAG lifestyle doesn’t suit you, hurts. Despite knowing it deep down, you could never be a regular WAG.

“Oh baby” she sighs over the phone.

“I wish I was with you” she says when you don’t reply, you trying to hide any cries so Jude doesn’t hear.

“I just, I saw the WAGs at the World Cup. All so glamorous and perfect and they just look expensive and so pristine and put together and not a single thing out of place. So gracious and skinny. God, why are they all so skinny! I sat next to them and felt like an elephant, the ones sat behind me probably thought I was with how broad my shoulder are, I just- I just want to be that for Jude. I just can’t be though, and I’m scared he’s going to wake up and realise I can’t and then leave me for someone exactly like the others” you say, some words needing repeating because of your sobs.

“Y/n” you hear a deep voice from behind you.

“I’ve got to go” you say to your friend and immediately hang up, your shoulders going tense as you stay facing away from him.

You quickly wipe your tears away and face him.

The wall you built barely withstanding the water inside the dam and you meet his eyes.

“Why didn’t you tell me?” Jude says, his voice the softest you’ve ever heard, eyes glassy with slight tears in his own eyes.

And that’s all it takes, one crack in the concrete and the dam is broken.

Your tears flood out, enough to make Noah need to rebuild his ark.

His arms instantly envelope you, you fist at his shirt in desperation as you try to bury your head in his warm chest.

He holds onto you tighter, scared you might break as you stand in his arms the most fragile and raw you’ve ever been.

His heart breaks at your sobs, the sound of pure anguish coming from you as you sniff into his chest.

Jude swears he can feel his heart strings actually ache as you pull on them, each sob a new tug.

“Darling, I need you to breathe now” he says in a hushed but stern tone as your breathing becomes more erratic.

“Breathe in, one, two, three” he stops when you can’t follow his instructions anymore, a sob ruining your efforts.

“Good. Breathe in, one, two, three, four” again, a sob breaks it.

“Better. Breath in, one, two, three, four, five” and a sob.

“Perfect. Now hold your breath” he says as he takes your face in his large hands as he puffs his cheeks out and makes his eyes go cross eyed making you laugh, a sob breaking the giggles but the sound makes Jude smile none the less.

“Y/n you are so perfect. So, so perfect, down to the last hair on your head. Everything about you makes me happy to wake up in the morning, happy to wake up at three in the morning to make cookies with you when you can’t sleep, happy to run and get you your snacks late at night when you crave them, happy to hold your hand when he run up the stairs after turning the downstairs light off. Happy to be your man. Because that’s what I am no matter what, your man. There’s is no one better for me because you get me, to my core you get me. More than anyone I’ve ever met in my life and you probably understand me more than anyone I’ve ever met in my life.” He says making you tear up yet again but doesn’t let them fall far as with each one, he brushes it away gently with his thumb and places a kiss where it stopped.

“And you’re beauty. Oh my, I genuinely don’t know where to start. Your hair, it’s so perfect. Not just to me but to anyone who looks at it. Lucia told Marcus that she wants to know what products you use, actually. I’m sorry I forgot to ask you that but we’ll get to it later. Anyway, your makeup. To start, you don’t need it, but I know you like it and if you like it, I like it. You do it so perfectly. I’m in love with watching you do it. You seem so happy when you do and I fall in love with you every time you smile. And your smile! God it has me weak in the knees. Genuinely” he says making you smile and before you can stop him he’s dropped to the floor, limbs sprawled out as he clutches to his heart.

You laugh at him and all of a sudden he jumps back up to his feet and grabs your hand again.

“See!” He says, laughing himself now and slightly out of breath. “I love you more than I could ever love anyone. I don’t need anyone or anything in this world other than you” he says before cupping your cheeks once again and pulling you in for a kiss.

It tastes slightly salty given the amount of tears you cried this evening yet it’s still perfect.

As everything seems to be with Jude.

“Also I ordered your favourite. I think it would be a hate crime to eat a salad after the goal I scored today”

-

I hope you guys like it!! This was all over the place and not planned at all. Please forgive me if it’s bad <3

His Most Prized Possession

Pairing || Dark!Mob!Bucky x Wife!Reader

Summary || You’re the wife of the most feared man in all of New York City, James Buchanan Barnes, the mob boss of the biggest mafia in town. Your his—his girl, his beauty, his love, his property, his most prized possession. He will torture and kill anyone who dares to make any advances on his woman, and he won’t hesitate to show them who you belong to in the most sinful way possible before their end…

Word Count || 8876

Contents & Warnings || Fluff, Smut, Angst, Dark Themes — NSFW, 18+ Only, Minors DNI, slight dub-con, Dark!Jealous!Possessive!Bucky, angry/vicious!Bucky, soft!Bucky, mob/mafia business, mention of drugs/alcohol, violence, implied use of weapons, implied torture, blood, murder, crying, use of force, graphic/explicit content/language, pet names (doll, baby, babe, princess + others), unprotected vaginal sex, exhibition kink, forced voyeurism, daddy kink, spit kink, degradation & praise kink, use of the word whore, dom/sub dynamics, oral (m & f receiving), teasing, begging, face/throat fucking, gagging, fingering, spanking, choking, rough fucking, overstimulation, multiple orgasms, cum swallowing, creampie, mention of bodily fluids, aftercare.

Authors Note || After a lot of work it’s finally done! I’m so proud of this! Please enjoy this twisted and sinful journey! Feedback would be so much appreciated on this piece <3 I want to know what you think!

Disclaimer || English is not my first language so I apologise for any mistakes or misunderstandings!

Mob!Bucky Masterlist

I don’t do taglists anymore so please follow @bucky-barnes-diaries-library and turn on notifications to never miss out on my writing!

The Underground Lounge

It was the most high-profile club in all of New York City. A place for criminals, the filthy rich, politicians and like-minded people to converge in secrecy for whatever they desire with no repercussions, whether that be alcohol, drugs, women, sex or just a fun time. Everything and anything went down here.

The club was nestled deep below The Blend nightclub, which acted as a cover for the underworld of crime below.

They were both owned by James Buchanan Barnes—Bucky amongst friends and loved ones. The most feared man in all of the city and the mob boss of the biggest and baddest mafia in town. He was also your husband. Your dangerous, vicious and sexy husband.

You and Bucky would usually be at the club on the weekends for some party and fun, which you were right now.

The VIP area that was only reserved for Bucky and company was slightly elevated over the rest of the club—giving Bucky the best view to look over his domain. It also showed the guests that they were nothing compared to the boss sitting on the high throne. The VIP area had an abundance of seating places—fitting several people. All compacted in a sizeable curved couch with a low circular table in the middle to put drinks on or other substances, for that matter. There was also enough space for Bucky’s security to keep a lookout over the club and its activities.

Today it was only you and Bucky attending. No friends, no other company, except for your security detail.

With a good percentage of alcohol in your system, you and he were all over each other—lips sloppily crashing into one another as you moaned and groaned into each other's mouths and hands roamed both your bodies.

You'd unbuttoned a few buttons of his white long-sleeved shirt—wanting to feel his collarbone and chest underneath your fingertips as you made out. His dark blue velvet dress jacket was tossed to the side long ago. Your other hand rested delicately on top of his covered bulge—palming him ever so often.

Bucky’s hand kept a tight grip on your naked upper thigh; the short little dress you wore barely covered anything, giving him easy access to your skin. His other held your throat gently in his grasp, making it impossible to move away from him not that you wanted to.

Ever so slightly, he inches his way higher up your thigh, hicking your dress up with his moves, as he caressed your delicate skin with his rough hands, making you moan and whimper into his mouth. His end goal was to get into your panties—wanting to force his fingers knuckle-deep into you and have you make a mess all over them.

It wasn't unusual for him and you to get a little naughty together in the club. On multiple occasions, you'd have his fingers deep inside your pussy or straddle his lap to grind yourself on his clothed cock. And occasionally giving him a handjob here and there.

You'd think he would be against having you so exposed to everyone’s prying eyes since he was always so protective and possessive over you in day-to-day life. But on the contrary, he loved showing you off here. It gave him the power to assert his dominance over you and make everyone know that you're his—his girl, his beauty, his love, his property and his most prized possession.

This was his club—his rules—his everything. Everyone knew not to mess with the mob boss's precious wife. Not unless they had a death wish.

Your body tingled in anticipation of having his digits buried deep inside you. You were so ready for it. So needy for it, but… God, did you really have to pee now, urgently.

“Bucky.”

His name came out in a moan rather than a plea for him to stop with his touches, making him think you wanted more. He swiped your damp panties with his thumb while his lips assaulted your neck with licks, kisses and bites, making you whine even more.

“Bucky!”

You placed your hands on his chest, shoving him lightly off you, making him stop with his kisses and retract his hand from under your dress.

“What!”

An annoyed tone was laced in his voice, but that quickly turned into concern as he thought something was wrong.

“What is it, baby?”

His thumb caressed your cheek lovingly as he tried to search your face for any discomfort. There was none, so he didn’t understand why you'd make him stop.

“I just really need to go pee.”

He nodded his head in understanding and was about to call for one of the security to accompany you, but you stopped him before he could.

“No! I can go on my own.”

“Doll…”

He cocked his head to the side. He didn’t like that. He didn’t want you going on your own.

Although the club was a safe space for you to wander around due to everyone knowing who you were and not daring to approach you under any circumstances, Bucky still wanted you looked after due to the reason that occasionally a rouge and unwanted person managed to get into the club, despite the tight security, and cause chaos and bothering the other club patrons. But that rarely happened, and right now, you just wanted to go on your own without having anyone on your tail all the time.

“Please, Bucky,” you pleaded with those puppy-dog eyes you knew he couldn't resist, “if I'm not back in 15 minutes, you can come and find me.”

“Alright, princess,” he pecked your lips, “but hurry back to me, baby,” and once more, “because I need to bury my fingers in your tight little pussy….”

He cupped your core harsh, making you moan out at the roughness. Bucky groaned out as he touched what belonged to him.

“... my tight little pussy.”

He growled in your ear, making the hairs on your neck stand and your core pulsate at his filthy words.

“I’ll be right back, babe.”

You gave him one last peck before you got up and fixed your dress—the material had bundled up your hips entirely. Bucky gave you a light tap on your ass before you walked away in search of the bathroom.

You did your business in the bathroom and freshened up before walking out to the club’s main area.

Bucky hadn't left his positing from the VIP area. His leg was crossed over the other, and his arms rested on the back of the couch while he looked calm and relaxed. You wanted to take advantage of your freedom and decided to get a quick drink at the bar before returning to him.

You made your way to the bar that was settled in the middle of the club while swaying your hips to the music playing. Luckily, the bar wasn't packed, so it should be a quick deal.

You order the drink and make yourself comfortable with your elbows on the bar counter, squeezing your breasts together, almost exposing them entirely. Your ass poked out behind you—the dress so tiny and short that it almost showed your entire ass.

You knew everyone had their eyes on you, thirsting and yearning for you—for something they knew they could never have, and that's what you loved so much about it. In this club, you loved being a little cock-tease to everyone—it made you feel powerful.

While waiting for your drink, you scanned and observed the club’s guests. Most of them you'd seen before and recognised—politicians with their mistresses, criminals making shady deals with each other, and some new faces you'd never seen before. Everyone looked to be in great spirit and having fun tonight.

“My, my… don't you look pretty tonight.”

A deep, smooth voice murmured in your ear, making you jump out of your skin a little at the roughness of it. You thought it was Bucky for a second, but the voice didn’t match quite right. When you spun around, you found yourself caught in an intense gaze by a man. Usually, you'd back away and decline any stranger like that, but something about him just made your whole being scream in need.

The man oozed danger, sex and confidence—all things you loved and had gotten so used to with Bucky. So you couldn't help yourself when you got ensnared in this stranger's trap. You knew you shouldn't talk to this man. Bucky would be pissed if he found out. But Bucky wasn't here right now, and the drink should be done any second, so you decided to play along and then would politely decline once it was time. Bucky would never know.

“Well, hello to you, stranger.”

You batted your eyelashes at him and gave him your most appetising smile and gestures you could muster up, popping your hip out and tilting your head to the side, wanting to play a bit dirty and rile him up.

“My, you're the prettiest little thing in this whole club.”

He came closer, almost pinning you against the bar with his massive frame. He licked his lips as his eyes travelled across your whole body. This man was playing a dangerous game in approaching you like that—intentions clearly sexual.

He presented his hand, and you took it gladly, shaking it.

“The names Roman,” he brought your hand up to his lips and kissed the back of it while maintaining eye contact, “it’s a pleasure to meet you.”

Roman?

Roman?

You'd heard that name before, but you couldn't quite put your finger on who he was. It was such an unusual name that you would think with such a name, you'd remember who it belonged to, but your mind was completely blank. It must be the alcohol and the intense surge of sexual energy you were experiencing.

“The pleasure is all mine, Roman,” you gave him your name, which made him smirk when he heard it.

“That's a beautiful name, princess. What brings you to this club, sweet thing?”

“Oh, I-”

The conversation was cut abruptly by someone grabbing Roman’s shoulder and pulling him away from you, turning him to face whoever it was.

You gasped.

Shit. It was Bucky.

His face was stone cold as he stared Roman down with absolute dark rage in his eyes. His fists clenched by his side—knuckles turning white.

“What the fuck are you doing here, Roman?” Bucky spat out while getting all up in his face.

Wait?

Bucky knew him?

Oh…

Oh!

Oh, no…

He was that Roman.

Shit. Now you remember.

He's the man that betrayed Bucky about a year ago and went to be with Bucky’s number one rivals instead. You remember at the time what kind of a toll it had taken on Bucky to be so gruesomely crossed.

This was not good. You felt so horrible and guilty now with the later knowledge of know this man was. How could you have forgotten him? Forgotten what he's done? You should have brushed him off instead of instigating his actions further.

You couldn't hear what they were saying because they were so up in each other's faces, but you could tell that it was a heated argument. You wondered what was being said. What kind of complications and events this would all lead to.

Suddenly, Bucky shoved him hard, and it looked like he would fight him right then and there. But he didn’t…

“You’re fucking dead, Roman,” Bucky uttered through gritted teeth.

Bucky came to your side and grabbed your arm hard. So hard that it hurt, and you winced and tossed to try and get out of his harsh grip, but he wouldn't budge. He pulled you back to the VIP area and ordered you to sit on the couch.

“Don't fucking move.”

His words were like poison, making you flinch at the absolute anger in his voice. Your eyes were becoming glossy—tears threatening to spill at any moment. You wrapped your arms around yourself for comfort.

How could you be so stupid? You should have just said no to Roman instead of acting like a fucking brat and whore—wanting to be a little cock tease for a man that wasn't even your man. You should have just been an obedient little wife and returned to your husband like you were supposed to.

Bucky was furiously talking to one of his men for several minutes. You saw how stressed, angry and fearful his demeanour was. His hand ran through his short hair multiple times. It was rare to see Bucky in this state. He was usually tough and determined, not bothered by what people said and did, and always in control of things. But it looked like Roman had really struck a sensitive nerve—said something that had put Bucky out of check.

When he was done conversing, he came back to you and took your hand, gently this time, and pulled you with him out of the main club area, not saying a thing. It looks like you were leaving. You went through the backdoor that was only used for you and Bucky and a selected few other people.

Once in the elevator, Bucky wrapped a protective arm around your waist and pulled you flush against his torso, still not saying anything. You wanted to say something. To plead for his forgiveness, but you felt awkward doing it in this tight place when you weren't alone. You would try and talk to him in the car when it was just the two of you.

Bucky ushered you into the backseat of the black luxury car, him getting in behind you. You weren't sure where you were going—home, most likely. The screen divider that separated the backseats and driver seat was up, so you were all alone, and you could finally try to talk to him.

“Bucky?”

You tried in a sweet and calm voice.

Nothing.

He pulled his phone out when it pinged with a message. His mouth remained in a thin line, eyebrows furrowed, with no emotions in his eyes as he typed on his phone before placing it inside his jacket.

“Bu-Bucky?”

Your weak voice cracked as his name came out in a sob this time.

“I-I’m so s-sorry. I-I shou-” You sobbed even more, unable to finish your sentence. You were about to cry any second, knowing that Bucky was mad and disappointed in you for being so stupid and reckless. You turned your head away from him, unable to look at his stern face.

“Doll…”

His voice was sweet compared to the poisonous one he used with you in the Underground. You thought he would yell at you once in the car. But it was the opposite. His loving and caring side surfaced—your wonderful husband that loved you beyond words.

“Baby…”

He grabbed your chin with his fingers and turned your head towards his. His eyes held nothing but love and adoration for you—his wife. His heart broke when he saw a few tears roll down your cheeks, your lips quivering.

“P-please d-don't be mad a-at me, Bucky.”

“Oh, baby… come here.”

He pulled you onto his lap and wrapped his strong arms around your waist. His head nuzzled in your neck as he laid tender kisses on the soft skin to try and soothe you,

“Mad at you? No, doll. I could never be mad at you, and I’m sorry it came across that way. I didn’t mean to raise my voice at you like that, my sweet love.”

“Bu-but, you seemed s-so angry at me. Angry for what I’d done and who I was talking to. I swear, Bucky, I forgot who he was, and I-I just-”

“Doll.” He made you rest your forehead on his. His piercing blue eyes focused deep into yours—showing you that he spoke the truth. “I’m not mad at you at all. Please don’t beat yourself up over it. It’s not your fault. Not even the slightest, ok? I love you, babydoll.”

“O-ok. I-I love you t-too, Bucky.”

He dried your tears while giving you a warm smile. “My precious girl.” He cradled your face in his hands and laid a light, comforting kiss on your lips. The kiss slowly progressed to a more passionate one—neediness and love poured into it.

The moment was quickly interrupted by Bucky’s phone pinging with a message in his jacket. He groaned as he fished it out to read it. You caught a glimpse and gasped when you saw what it said.

It's done.

You knew what it meant. It was the worst possible outcome following the events that unfolded in the club.

“Is, is he d-dead?”

“No, no, doll. They only questioned him, that's all.” Bucky tried to reassure you.

You knew what questioned meant. It meant that they had beaten the shit out of him, almost to the point of death. And although Bucky spoke the truth that Roman wasn't dead, he would be soon. Bucky never let something like what happened at the club go unpunished—people trying to cross his line. Certainly not when it comes to you. He would torture and kill anyone who made any advances on you, especially when they were fully aware of who you were and belonged to. And Roman most certainly knew what he was doing when he approached you. He wanted to provoke Bucky and test his limits. And now he would pay for it.

Maybe he didn’t think it through enough? Perhaps he thought he was safe because he was under the protection of Bucky’s rivals?

But one should never underestimate Bucky. He didn’t give a fuck who anyone belonged to, enemies or friends. If provoked, he would have you severely punished or, in the worst case, killed.

You shook your head—not wanting to think about it anymore. Instead, you lay your head on Bucky’s shoulder and close your eyes for the remaining car ride. His fingertips delicately caressing your arm lulled you to a relaxed and sleepy state…

———

“Doll,” his soothing voice murmured in your ear, pulling you out from the light sleep, “baby, we’re here.”

You softly moaned as you lifted your head and saw that you’d pulled into the garage of your penthouse—you were indeed home now. Luckily, because you were ready to cuddle up with your husband in bed and go to sleep in his loving and protective embrace.

“You want me to carry you?”

“N-no, I can go on my own.”

Once in the elevator, Bucky pressed the button for the roof terrace, not the apartment like you thought we would. You looked up at him. A confused expression on your face—eyebrows furrowed.

“Are we not going to bed yet?”

“Not yet,” he wrapped his arms around your shoulder, pulling you close to him, and kissed your head, “I have something I want to show you.”

What did he have to show you on the rooftop?

When the elevator arrived, Bucky took your hand and led you to the patio overlooking the light-filled city. Nothing looked unusual. Everything looked as it always did. There was no thing to show. So why did he bring you here?

“Bucky, what are we doing here?”

“Come.”

He led you to the very edge of the fence and wrapped his arms around you from behind. His head rested on your shoulder, and you leaned yours on his.

“Do you see, doll?”

“See what, Bucky?”

“The city!”

“Your city, babe.”

“Our city, baby girl. All of this is for you. Everything I do is for you. You and my undying love for you influence every decision I make in life.”

“James… you know I don't need any of this. I appreciate it, baby, you know that, but… I just need you.”

“I know, I only need you as well, but I just wanted you to know that we’re in this together. We can always count on each other. We will always have one another. Our love is powerful and unbreakable.”

“You know it, Bucky.”

You stood for a while longer. Staring out over your city as you swayed to imaginary music. Bucky’s lips graced your cheek as he whispered sweet nothings that had your heart burst with warmth, love and security.

Words can’t describe how much you loved this man. This vicious, menacing, murderous, but also affectionate, warm and joyous man. One would think such words couldn’t be combined to describe a man—that it doesn't fit. But Bucky was all those, and you wouldn’t change him for the world.

Your sweet bubble was interrupted by another notification on Bucky’s phone, making him groan in annoyance. He held one arm around your waist while the other retrieved his phone.

You couldn't see what it said this time, but he let out a groan of approval and then pulled you with him back to the elevator once he read it.

“Where are we going now? More surprises?”

“We’re just going to our room.”

Ah, finally. As much as you loved Bucky for bringing you up here and expressing his undying love for you, you really just wanted to snuggle up to him in bed now.

But once you arrived at your room, one of Bucky’s men was waiting by the door, which was highly unusual. You wondered what was going on. It probably had something to do about Bucky’s recent text message. Probably an update on Roman and his current… situation. But no matter what it was, you hoped it would be able to wait till the morning. You just wanted Bucky all to yourself now.

“Wait here, doll.”

You stood in place while Bucky approached his man. He whispered something to Bucky, and Bucky nodded before he called you over. The man bid you good night, and then it was finally just you and your husband.

“What was that all about, babe?”

“My love…”

He lay his hands on your shoulders, staring deep into your eyes with seriousness written all over his face.

What was going on?

Why was he acting so… strange?

“Yes, my dear?”

“Do you trust me?”

“I do, Bucky, with my life.”

“Would you do anything I ask of you?”

You didn’t like to admit it, but you would kill for this man if the situation ever occurred.

“I-I… yes.”

“Then come with me,” he presented his hand, and you took it without hesitation, “don't be alarmed.”

Alarmed?

He opened the door to your shared master bedroom. Your heart was pounding in your chest. Although you trusted Bucky, his behaviour was more abnormal than usual, which scared you slightly.

You expected to be met with something significant while walking into the room, but there was nothing in the dim-lit room. It was a little hard to see with the lights out, so you scanned the entire space to try and find the abnormality—from the huge windows lining the outer wall, to the bed, and finally, the other side of the room. And that's when you saw it.

You gasped out loud in horror, eyes wide like saucers when you saw a person in the darkened corner of your room. It was a man—beaten, bloodied and bruised, tied up in a chair. His scream was muffled by something shoved into his mouth.

Oh my god… it was Roman…

“B-Bucky, wha-”

What was happening? This was wrong. This was so wrong on so many levels. Bucky never brought any of his mob business into your home. He always tried to shield you from that gruesome aspect of his world as best as possible. So what was he doing?

You backed away slowly but were stopped by colliding into Bucky’s chest. He grabbed your upper arms to keep your shaking form in place. His breath fanned your face while he whispered in your ear.

“Don’t be scared, my love.”

You were very much horrified by the sight of a bloodied and bruised man bound tight in your room. I mean, who wouldn't be?

“Wh-what i-is going o-on?”

You contemplated screaming and running away. If that's what you wanted, Bucky would have let you go—he would never force you into doing something you absolutely didn’t want. But you didn’t move a muscle. This situation intrigued you. Bucky’s vicious and twisted mind fascinated you.

Although you were the innocent and sweet one in the relationship, you had a slight devious nature to you as well. So you wanted to see what kind of plans Bucky had in store for bringing Roman into your privacy. What kind of things does he want to do. So you let go of all your worries and went with the flow.

With Bucky’s hand secured around your neck, craning your chin up to make you look at Roman. Bucky spoke, loud enough for Roman to hear as well, the most sinful, possessive and immoral words he's ever uttered—making you shamelessly aroused and almost crumble to the floor.

“He’s gonna watch us, doll, all powerless tied up in that chair as I do with you as I please. He’s gonna watch as I undress you and expose your beautiful flesh to his eyes. He’s gonna watch as I kiss, lick, suck and bite all over your skin. He’s gonna watch and hear as I make you moan, whimper and scream. He’s gonna watch as I fuck you hard, my wife. Claiming your body and soul as mine, and mine only.”

Fuck.

You were all in.

Bucky circled his arms around your waist and brought you closer to his firm chest. Very delicately, he started leaving kisses on your exposed shoulder, making you purr in delight. His feather-light kisses made goosebumps erupt on your skin. You craned your neck to the side, giving his lips more space to continue their journey further up. A loud moan of satisfaction escaped you as he became rougher with it—licking and sucking on your tender sweet spot.

In a swift motion, he removed your little dress—leaving you in your pretty underwear. His hands started roaming all over your exposed body, paying close attention to all your curves with his fingers—hips, waist and breasts—especially your breasts. He palmed them in his grasp and pinched your nipple through the material of your bra, making you wince out at the slight pain.

While one of his hands palmed your breast, the other ran down your stomach and found its way into your panties, making you gasp once his expert fingers found your aching core. He ran his fingers through your slick folds, groaning deeply in your ear, making the hairs at the back of your neck stand.

“Fuck, baby, already so wet and messy for me, huh? Did that turn you on, princess? My little speech about fucking you and claiming you as mine while he watches all helpless?”

“U-uh, huh.”

You were revelling in the pleasure your twisted and loving husband provided you that there was no way to form any coherent words, let alone sentences. It made Bucky chuckle in a sinister way at how absolute speechless he could make you with such simple touches.

Then it all stopped—his touches and kisses. You whined out in protest and were starting to turn around to see what was going on, but he stopped you by grabbing your upper arms and turning you towards Roman again.

“Stay still, baby.”

Thankfully, his delicate touches returned to your skin. His fingers ran from your shoulder and down until they met the clasp of your bra—unclasping it with no difficulty. The bra straps ran down your arms and hit the floor with a soft thud. Your breasts fully exposed to the two men.

With Bucky’s hands caressing your waist, he descended to the floor behind you. His fingers hooked into your panties and pulled them down your legs. Now, you were fully exposed; your parts that Bucky was so protective and possessive over came to light.

He left a wet kiss on each of your ass cheeks before travelling the kisses upward your naked back—until he stood straight up and wrapped his hand around your throat again, making you yelp and pay full attention to the man tied to the chair. Bucky spoke loud again for him to hear as well.

“This here is all mine. My body—my tits, my ass, my pussy,” he groped your wet and naked core, making you gasp out, “Only I will get to touch and take all of her as I please. Isn’t that right, baby girl?”

“I-it’s yours, B-Bucky, I-I belong to y-you.”

He turned you around and pulled your naked body flush into his clothed one. His hand grasped the back of your neck and brought your lips to his—hungrily kissing you, tongues caressing one another as you moaned and groaned into the heated and needy kiss. His other hand took hold of your ass cheek—altering between squeezing hard and delivering slaps to the plump flesh, which made you whimper into his mouth each time he did.

While still keeping your lips connected, Bucky manoeuvred you to the foot of the bed and removed his jacket while you helped with unbuttoning his white shirt—tearing it off his muscular body.

You roamed your hands all over his hard chest and stomach, moaning as you felt every curve and dip of his delicious muscles. While you touched him, Bucky went to work on getting his pants off.

“Let me.”

You descended to your knees, finding a comfortable place on the marble floor, and helped him tug his pants and underwear down. A satisfied gasp slips from your mouth as his hard cock springs to life—slapping against his belly.

“This cock belongs to me, doesn't it, daddy?” You mutter as you take a firm grasp on his base, and kitten lick his tip while looking up at him.

Bucky chuckled at your possessive nature, licking his lips. You could be just as possessive over Bucky as he was over you, and he loved it. He belonged to you as much as you belonged to him.

“You know it does, baby,” his hand cradled your face, “all of me belongs to you, body and soul.”

You pushed him down to sit on the foot of the bed, his hands on the mattress keeping his weight up. His eyes were fixated on your kneeling form as you nestled between his spread legs. The palm of your hands caressed his thighs up and down as you stared at his entire cock—your mouth watering at how delicious it looked.

“I’m so hungry for your cock, daddy.”

“Yeah? You gonna show him what a little cock-whore you are, baby?”

“Yes,” a glob of your spit fell on him, making him groan as your hand jerked him and spread the saliva all over his length, “I’m a little cock-whore that wants your cock in my mouth.”

He twitched at your lewd words.

“Take all of me then.”

With his hand at the back of your head, he guided and encouraged you to take him whole. With no hesitation, you engulfed his length immediately—too cock-hungry to tease and toy with him until he begged for you. You desperately needed his length deep in your throat.

You gagged around him as he tickled the back of your throat. The vibrations made him shudder where he sat. With each hand cradling your face, he forced your head up and down on him, thrusting his hips upwards to meet your moves.

Tears pooled in your eyes, and saliva dribbled out of your mouth as he forced his way down your throat. It was so messy and erotic—sloppy sounds filled the room.

He closed his eyes and leaned his head back as he concentrated on how your warm and wet mouth felt on his throbbing cock. Guttural groans rumbled in his throat.

“Fuck, you take my cock so well, baby.”

He removed you from him, which made you whine in protest—missing the feel of him choking you with it. Your hand wrapped around him and jerked his length in long strokes as you presented your tongue—showing him how absolute needy you were for his cock shoved deep in your cavity.

With his fingers holding your jaw, he leaned down till he was level with your face and gifted you a glob of his spit on your awaiting tongue. “Fucking whore, you know that?” You nod your head. The degrading action and words had your pussy flutter. You rolled your tongue into your mouth and leaned down to retake him, bobbing your head while Bucky supported his weight on his hands, allowing you to take control of his cock as he sat and enjoyed the lewd performance.

“I bet you’re fucking jealous now.” Bucky sneered at Roman as the corner of his mouth turned up in a sinister smirk.

Your hand accompanied your mouth—stroking his base while your mouth paid attention to his sensitive head—finding a perfect rhythm to bring Bucky over the edge. The other hand cupped his balls to fondle them.

“Look at me….”

You peered up at him through your thick lashes while you had your mouth and hands full of his cock and balls. Drool and tears covering all of you.

“...fucking shit, doll, you’re gonna make me come.” A few seconds later, he grunted as he reached his climax. His hand gripping your shoulder hard to brace himself.

Watching his face contour in pure pleasure, moaning, groaning and grunting while his thick load shoots down your throat must be one of the most pornographic scenes you’d ever witnessed. Your pussy fluttered at the sight and vocalisation of him—slickness running down your inner thighs.

Holy fucking shit.

You worked him thoroughly through his intense orgasm to make him feel as good as possible. Not letting a single drop of him go to waste—all of it trickled down your throat.

Once he had come down from his high, you pulled him out from your mouth, making his head leave with a pop. Bucky hisses as his sensitive cock is freed from your expert hold.

You were a mess—drool covering your face, hands and tits, but to Bucky, it was the most stunning you’d ever looked.

“Oh, baby. So beautiful and messy for me.”

With his hand holding your throat, he leaned down to give you a sloppy kiss which you whimpered into.

“Get on the bed.”

All giddy, you switched places with him. Your elbows supported your weight as you spread your legs for him, showing him your glistening and needy pussy.

“Fucking gorgeous.”

“Are you gonna fuck me, daddy?”

Bucky tugged your legs, pulling you further towards him—till your ass was right by the edge of your bed.

“Not yet, babydoll. I need to taste that pussy first.”

He finds a comfortable place on his knees between your spread legs so he can go to work in worshipping all of you, like the Goddess you are. His face is inches from where you so desperately need him, feeling his breath on you, making your pussy ache for him. You arch into his face, your hand running over his short hair, begging for him to taste you, touch you, do anything to you. To eat you out until he shatters your existence.

“Please, Bucky,” you pathetically plead.

“You want it, baby?”

The tip of his tongue flickers your nub. That simple touch has your whole body convulse on the bed and a soft whimper escaping you.

God, you were so needy.

“P-please.”

“I’ll make you feel so fucking good, princess,” he laid a simple kiss on your wet folds, making you convulse once more, “but first, I need to clean up this mess you’ve made, baby.” He was referring to the slickness that had spilt from you, running down your inner thighs.

While his hands caressed the side of your waist, making delicious tingles erupt on your skin, he went to work on cleaning you up with his tongue—licking up the mess you’ve made, moaning at your taste. “Your taste is outstanding, baby.” Your whimper in pain and pleasure as he nips the skin of your inner thigh with his teeth—his tongue soothing the sting after.

“You have the prettiest pussy; you know that, baby? I’m so lucky that I’m the only man who will ever get to see it, to taste it,” he licks your outer lips, which has you arch into him for more, “and to fuck this needy little cunt.”

Finally, he places his mouth where you desperately need it to be. He drags his broad tongue through your folds and flicks the tip of it on your clit. The action has you arch your back, and your eyes flutter shut.

“O-oh…”

A glob of his saliva hits your clit, trickling down your folds. He groans as he watches his mess mix with your own—making your pussy look like the most delicious five-star meal he’s ever seen.

“Look at him, baby. Look at him while I eat your pussy.”

You turned your head to look at the man bound in his chair. It’s fucked up to admit it, but it turned you on to have Bucky between your thighs while a beaten-down man watched. You could see him shaking in his chair, shock overloading his system while his bloodied face pleaded for mercy—for his hurt and misery to end.

Fuck, this was hot.

You moaned loudly as Bucky went to work on devouring your pussy like a starved man that hasn’t had a decent meal in forever. He drags his tongue through your slit multiple times to get all of your flavours. His groan against your pussy at the taste has you quiver on the mattress and a loud cry emitting from you.

He lewdly spits on your pussy to claim ownership over it before his lips wrap around your raw nub—altering between sucking and licking the sensitive nerve. You try to keep your focus on Roman, but your eyes flutter at the pleasure, your mind and vision becoming blurry.

Two fingers penetrate your velvet walls, stretching you out and reaching knuckle deep, making you wail out. Their tips brush against the spot that has you absolutely lose it, making you writhe on the bed. The other works your breast—palming the supple flesh in his grasp, pinching and pulling on your sensitive nipple. You're nothing but cries of pleasure—moaning, groaning and whimpering as Bucky works you to perfection.

You feel kind of embarrassed at how noisy and pathetic you sound, so you bite your bottom lip hard to try and keep yourself down. Bucky didn’t like that at all.

“No, no,” he releases your clit from his hold, “let him hear. Let him hear all your pretty noises, baby.”

He quickly returned his assaults on your swollen clit that throbbed in need. His fingers moved in and out of you at an expert pace, and his other hand worked your breast.

Upon his wishes, you let your cries of satisfaction flow freely—filling up the bedroom. Your breathing hitched in your throat as the buildup was nearing its breaking point, so close to shattering your whole existence—body and soul.

Both your hands are placed at the back of his head, keeping him there so that he cannot move away and deny you your pleasure under no circumstances. Your hips rock into his vicious mouth as you chase your orgasm—it’s right there, so close.

“Bucky,” you cry as you come hard, your toes curling and your whole body convulsing on the bed. You try keeping your gaze on Roman as the coil in your stomach snaps, but your eyes cross. The surge of intense pleasure on your mind and body is almost indescribable—you’ve never come so hard in your entire life. As stars blur your vision, you feel like you're floating on a cloud.

Bucky groans as he works through your orgasm, your clit throbbing in his mouth and your tight walls fluttering around his digits. He’s in awe as he watches you fall apart like you’ve never done before, and he doesn't stop pleasuring you until you are all but satisfied.

You sob from sensitivity as his mouth and fingers leave your used and abused pussy. You’re a panting and heaving mess as you try and come back to your senses.

“You have no idea how sexy and breathtaking you are when you come like that, baby,” he says before kissing your mound, making you twitch. He proceeds with his kisses up your stomach and gives each of your nipples a lick; each touch has you spasm on the bed at how overly sensitive your whole body feels. He comes to face you—gently laying a kiss on your lips so you can taste yourself.

“I really fucked you up, didn’t I? I’m the only one that can make you come like that, huh?”

All you can do is nod while babbling unfinished words as you still haven’t recovered from your high.

Bucky chuckled at your distant and fucked out state.

“I’ll fuck you up some more, doll. He’s gonna watch as I absolutely wreck you.”

He pulls you further up the bed until you’re both in the middle of it.

With his hard cock in hand, he taps the head on your swollen clit, making you twitch and sob; a weak no falls from your lips as you place your hand on his hip to try and push him off.

You can’t. You’re so overly sensitive that it hurts. You can’t take anymore. But Bucky didn’t seem to give a fuck. He wasn’t done with you.

“I-I c-can’t.”

“Yes, you can, baby.” He speaks through gritted teeth.

He takes your hand off him and pins it down on the mattress.

Again he taps your clit, pulling out the same reaction from you as before. He glides his leaking tip through your wet folds. Gradually, his cock gliding on your tingling nub feels fucking incredible, and you’re ready for him to wreck you with his length.

“Please, daddy, fuck me.”

He groaned out at your neediness for him and lined his tip with your quivering entrance. Slowly, inch by inch, he penetrates your tight velvet walls with his cock, making you whimper at the slight ache. His hands grasp the back of your thighs as he forces his way inside you, guttural groans rumbling in his throat as your warm and tight walls engulf him. The last bit of him he forcefully pushes inside you, slamming into your pelvis, making you sob a cry, and your eyes roll back—showing white. The feeling of fullness has you blabbering pleas for him to destroy and fuck you senseless.

“Fuck, baby, you’re so fucking tight.”

His voice is so deep and husky, making your walls flutter around his length, pulling out a heavy moan from him.

“I’ll fuck you so good, doll.”

He pulls out and then forces himself hard into you again, making you jolt and cry on the mattress. He does it a few times, being rough and abusive with it, before he starts fucking your tightness in deep and powerful strokes, slapping his skin against yours.

He hoists your legs on his shoulder, pinning them against his front, as he thrusts into you, his tip brushing your sweet spot each time he reaches deep inside you. You’re nothing but a moaning, whimpering mess as you take it all. Your hands grip the sheets to brace yourself, your eyes cross as he fucks you into oblivion, and your breasts bounce with each abusive thrust he delivers.

“My pussy. Mine, mine, mine, mine,” he grunts between each hard thrust, watching his length disappear through your walls.

There's nothing on your brain other than his cock—nothing but earth-shattering pleasure that it's giving.

You convey that you want him closer with grabby hands as you’re entirely speechless with how he’s fucking you.

Answering your pleas, he drops your legs on each side before lowering his body till his naked chest meets yours, holding his weight up so he won’t completely crush your sensitive body. His forehead rests on yours as his warm breath hits your face.

“So needy for my cock, huh? So needy for all of me?”

You can only let out a sound of approval.

“Good fucking girl.”

With the rolls of his hips, he manages to reach even deeper inside you, making you wail in pleasure. You wrap your legs around his hips and your arms around his neck, clinging to him with your weak strength. The buildup was fast due to your last orgasm, and you were ready to explode with pleasure once more.

“I-I-I’m go….”

You couldn't even form a coherent sentence, making Bucky chuckle at how good he was fucking your brains.

“You gonna come, baby?”

“U-uh, huh.”

“Look at him, baby,” with his fingers on your jaw; he turned your head to look at Roman, “look at him as you cream and make a mess all over my cock, you fucking whore. Look at him while I stuff your little cunt.”

You try to keep your focus on him, but it was near impossible with the way Bucky was fucking you, clouding your every sense.

A few more brutal thrusts, and you come hard, toes curling, almost blacking out at the intensity. Silent noises escape your open mouth, and your eyes roll as you explode around his cock—your walls viciously pulsating around his length and making a mess all over him. Tears streamed down your face as it became too much, too hard, but you wanted more; you wanted his cum to fill you so badly, so you pulled him in tighter with your weak legs, wanting him to spill his warm seed inside you.

With a heavy grunt, he spurts ropes after ropes of his cum inside you, decorating your walls. His hips snapped rapidly against you as he filled you up to the brim, emptying himself entirely and not stopping until you were both fucked out and satisfied.

“Good girl. Good fucking girl taking all of me.”

He stilled inside once he was done, making a breath of relief and satisfaction escape you, and a deep groan came from him at the aftershocks. He peppers kisses on your clammy neck and collarbone, whispering sweet praises and affirmation after being so dominant and rough with you. You hold him close, nuzzling your face into his short hair as you hum and sigh in contentment at being stuffed full of his cum.

A whimper falls from you as his body leaves yours, leaving you cold, followed by a sob as his cock leaves your used and abused hole, leaving you unfulfilled.

“Look at that, baby,” Bucky was fascinated with his cum trickling out of your quivering hole, ”such a pretty sight.” He collected all of the cum with his tip and pushed himself hard into you again, making you squeal. After giving you a few more strokes, he pulled out, making the cum flow out once more. He gave you a sweet kiss on the cheek, followed by some words that made your breath hitch.

“Stay still, baby. I need to show him.”

He what?

You were still and spread out like he requested, your body too sensitive and sore to move anyways. With hooded eyes, you watch Bucky’s naked behind as he walks away from you and over to the man bound tight in the corner.

Bucky removes the gag from Roman’s mouth, and you can hear him coughing blood and saliva as his voice is freed. He tries to say something, but it comes out as a gurgling sound.

“Did you really fucking think I would let you go unpunished from my club, you fucking filth?”

Bucky’s fist connects with Roman’s bloodied and bruised face—the noise of skin punching skin and the crackling of Roman’s teeth at the force of it is the most uncomfortable sound you’ve ever heard. You shut your eyes tight as Bucky hits him again, and then a last time.

“Did you really fucking think I would let you speak about my wife like that without me having your head for it?”

You still didn’t know what Roman had said to Bucky in the club, but it was obviously triggering. So Bucky had gone to this extent in showing him, and others for that matter, what happens when someone spoke about his possessions.

Bucky removed his restraints and pulled Roman by his hair over to you on the bed—propping him up so he rested on his knees, his bruised face close to your pussy.

You were lost for words at what was happening, at what Bucky was doing. You just closed your eyes tight and hoped that whatever was going to happen would be over soon.

“Look at that, huh. Look at it. Isn’t it so fucking beautiful?”

Bucky was referring to his cum seeping out of your quivering hole—making a beautiful mess.

Roman looked with hooded eyes and tried to say something, but his words came out strained and unclear.

“Fucking LOOK AT IT!”

Bucky yelled in his face. It startled you and made tears roll down your cheek. This feels so degrading… but my God, also so fucking hot at the same time—to have someone being forced to look at your most intimate part that’s just been used and abused and stuffed full of cum.

Roman looks with wide eyes now, well, one at least; the other one is too bruised to open fully. He makes a painful noise as Bucky pulls his head up by his hair.

“This is mine. My pussy,” Bucky spreads your lips, “this is my girl, my fucking wife, and that’s my fucking cum that’s claimed her. You will never ever get to touch her. Touch what rightfully belongs to me. How dare you come into my club and use your filthy disgusting words on my wife, especially after betraying me like that, you worthless piece of shit.”

Bucky tosses him to the ground, his body hitting the hard floor in a loud thud while he groans in pain.

“Shut the fuck up,” Bucky spat at him.

Bucky retrieves his phone from his jacket, and you hear his thumbs moving across the keyboard—typing a message. You’re unsure what’s happening and too tired and slightly traumatised to ask questions.

A few seconds later, there’s a knock on the bedroom door, and Bucky stands with his back, all tall and broad, to you, blocking your body so whoever is on the other end can’t see you fully exposed. Bucky doesn’t care about his own nudity in the slightest.

Whoever entered the room didn’t say anything, but you could hear them come closer and stop by Roman, waiting for Bucky to give them instructions.

“Dispose of him,” Bucky utters in a deep and sinister voice.

“Yes, Sir.”

You hear Roman getting pulled away, never to be seen again, and then a door closes, leaving only you and Bucky in your bedroom.

“Baby.”

His sweet and caring voice was back; his protective and warm touches were back—your loving husband. He cleans you off with his shirt and then cradles your body, making you sit on his lap as he wraps his tender, soft arms around your frame. You nuzzle your face into his sweaty neck, a tired sigh leaving you as his fingers run delicately on your clammy skin, soothing your aching flesh and lulling you to sleep.

“Are you ok, doll?” He takes your tired face in his hands, making you look at his concerned one, searching yours for any sign of stress or discomfort. “Was that too much? Did I hurt you? I’m so sorry, doll, you had to see that, to hear that. That I had to put you through that.”

You honestly didn’t know what to say at what just unfolded—too tired and sore to process the whole event properly, but you were ok, for now. You were just happy to finally have your husband to yourself after such a pleasurable and vicious evening. All you wanted now was to fall asleep in his protective embrace.

All worries and questions about tonight could wait until the morning.

“I-I’m o-ok, James, just tired,” you yawn.

“Oh, baby…”

He scoots you up the bed—until you both rest your heads on the fluffy pillows, facing each other.

“... come here.”

You make yourself small and vulnerable as you nuzzle and cling to the embrace of your vicious lover and protector—his arms and legs holding you close. A content sigh breathes through you as your head tucks into his chest; listening to the calming beats of his heart—this was your home, where you wanted to be forever; despite Bucky’s brutal nature at times, you never ever wanted to leave his side.

Bucky’s murderous hands treat your skin like it's the most delicate thing in the world—softly stroking your back, making you shudder and purr in delight. Sweet words of affirmation are whispered against your hair, followed by a hum of a pleasant tune that slowly lulls you to sleep.

The last thing you hear are words that solidify your love and trust for your husband.

“You’re mine, mine only, my everything, and I love you beyond words, my sweet love….”

Thank you for reading 🖤 Feedback through a comment is highly appreciated! Or let me know through an anonymous ask if that feels more comfortable. As well as a reblog to share my work with other people!

I like him,

Like him too,

He my man,

He my boo,

He my type🥵,

He so cute😍😍,

I want him😘,

And i want him too♥️♥️

♥️♥️♥️

Small

Summary: Erling x reader, size kink, SMUT!

Erling was an absolute giant. Regardless of how tall you were, Erling had a special talent of making you look so small compared to him. He absolutely adored your height difference, loving the way his clothes suffocated your frame. He would always tease you, asking for kisses and watching you struggle on your tippy toes as you tried reaching his lips with yours. If you were ever tired, he wouldn't hesitate to carry you around. His favorite thing about your height difference was the way you had to look up at him. Your beautiful eyes glistening under the lights, staring straight into his soul. 

He also loved your height difference when it came to sex. However, he knew that he had to be very careful with you. Since he was much bigger, he made sure you were alright with everything happening. He was very adamant about having a safeword and prepping you before he would penetrate you. He knew you loved it when his tongue licked your folds, and his thick fingers spread your tight walls. He liked asking you whether you thought you could handle him. 

“I’ll try to,” you would say, innocently smiling up at him. When he finally did slip himself inside you, he would always pause and make sure you were okay before slipping out and slamming back in. He was infatuated with the feeling of his large cock intruding your tight walls, the warmness almost making him cum instantly. He loved to take you with your back pressed on the bed. With this view, he could watch your tits bounce with his powerful thrusts. He could also see how his large hand perfectly wrapped around your small throat. You would look up at him with those same beautiful eyes, only now they were droopy with lust. But the best part of this view was the way he could see his cock protruding from your stomach. The bulge was subtle but served a powerful reminder about how big he was compared to you. He would be hypnotized, staring at your stomach as he entered you, waiting to see how far he reached inside of you. You would always be a moaning and whimpering mess under him, his hips slamming against yours. You could feel his balls slapping against your aching, tight cunt. He would slip his large thumb into your small mouth, feeling your tongue swirl around it. 

“Look at you, taking me like a good girl,” He would praise you, his thrusts continuing their brutal pace. You would have tears streaming down your face, feeling the immense pleasure from his thick cock filling your clenching pussy. 

“So…big,” you would let out, boosting his ego as his hips began jackhammering into you. By now, the room would be filled with lewd noises; skin slapping skin, moans, grunts, and the bed slamming against the wall. You would always be the first to come, followed shortly by Erling. He would make sure his large load filled you up to the brim. He would slip out, you whimpering in response as your cunt became empty again. 

Erling knew you would be sore by the end of it all, and he made sure to care for you adequately and accordingly. A warm bath would be made, and he would carry you in, your legs completely numb and useless. He would bathe with you, and for the millionth time, your beautiful eyes would look back up at him.

The Rookie Wins

Haas team, general  f1 x reader

Summary: y/n is a rookie to F1 signing with Haas but under FIA rules, they weren’t allowed to state a woman was driving in F1, for fear of public reaction to them allowing a woman race, but what happens when Gunther doesn’t care.

warnings: none. (Maybe a swear word?), sexism.

Word count: 2231 words

Authors note: The only note here will be that my toxic trait is thinking I’d be able to win an F1 grand prix while never ever having driven an F1 car before and being scared of driving too fast.

______________________________________________________________

2 days before your first Grand Prix

“Okay, so here are the rules Princess, no one can find out that you’re a woman, the FIA is willing to make the announcement at a later date maybe, depending on your performance” Gunther, your team principle explained to you, a few days before your first ever Grand Prix weekend.

“Gunther, there are no words to express how many times you have explained this to me” you pointedly said, staring at Gunther.

“I just need you to know that it’s not because I don’t believe in you, if I didn’t, you wouldn’t be part of my team. I think the rule is just as unfair and sexist as anyone, but we play by their rules and then prove why you deserve to be here yes?” Gunther replied softly, stopping everything he was doing to look at you, to make sure you knew exactly how serious he was.

“Yes boss, trust me, I’m going to do you proud” you smiled at the team principle.

Qualifiers

Having to hide in your drivers room, kitted out in full racing gear was getting tiresome and hot, how long were you going to have to do this? As you paced up and down your drivers room, getting more and more frustrated at this stupid rule imposed on you, forcing you to hide from other teams, media and drivers,  your trainer knocked on your door to let you know it was time to begin qualifiers.

You all but ran to your car, eager to finally show what you were capable of doing. Your team, the small few who knew you were a woman, laughing at your jittery energy, excited to see the woman that they’ve grown to adore, finally be able to show what she can do on the track.

Your excitement was short lived though when as you were pulling out of the garage, testing your radio, your race engineer informed you that the FIA had placed a new rule on you.

“Princess, we got some bad news on our side” Dom, your race engineer said with disappointment laced in his voice.

“Jesus, am I retiring the car already?” you laughed, trying to lighten the mood.

“FIA said that no matter how good the car is and no matter how good the driving is, you aren’t allowed to quali in the top 10, don’t want to make the other drivers look bad in the first race” Dom blankly stated, trying to not let himself get too angry at this clearly unfair rule.

“I think I’m more flattered than angry that they think I even would qualify in the top 10 in my debut quali session” you sarcastically said, trying to mask your anger at the clearly sexist treatment.

“Your time will come princess, I promise, we just got to play by the rules for now” you heard Gunther speak up over the radio.

“Gunther, saying I’d even be capable, would the FIA allow me to finish in points in the race” you suddenly ask as you were heating up your cars tyres on your first lap

The silence was too long for your liking.

“I’m sorry princess, it’s just until we prove that you deserve to be here” Gunther sadly states, “Good luck in Quali, at least try get to Q2” and with that, Dom’s voice filtered through your radio again.

Race Day

You sat in your car on the grid, waiting for the red lights to go out and you could begin racing. In those few minutes sitting on the grid though, you couldn’t help but get into your head about the entire ordeal.

How could they not allow you to finish in points? Haas was finally in a position where they could put up a solid fight, the team has been working on the car for months, finally producing something that could challenge the ‘big dogs’ of F1, and all because you were a woman, your entire team would have to suffer. Who cares what a few fans thought, surely as a woman you would bring in a whole new group of fans? Or maybe you wouldn’t be liked by the fans at all, and the FIA was right about everything? Maybe you shouldn’t be in F1 at all.

“Princess” Gunther’s voice suddenly pulled you out your own thoughts, “so, I’ve been thinking about it and, quite frankly, fuck the FIA. Race your goddamn little heart out, you’re in a Haas, and a rookie, no offence, but realistically, what’s the best you can actually do? Get p10? If that’s it, then get the P10, I’ll fight the FIA for you, your team, no, your new family will protect you, but whatever you do today, I want you to fight and I want you to race as hard as you can, the princess deserves to be on the podium, you got it?” Gunther speaks quickly, hoping to get the message across to you before the lights go out.

A smug smile graces your face, and your fingers tighten around your steering wheel, “yes boss”.

______

 “It’s halfway through this race and we are seeing some amazing things from the new Haas driver. This is their rookie year and their debut race, and we are seeing this driver fight for their life on this track. Having started P14, they have already made their way up to P6 and seemed determined as ever to continue climbing in positions” Croftys voice beamed out, thoroughly surprised, and impressed by the new driver.

“We are still not sure who the new driver is, Haas keeping them very hush hush. Rumours being that their seat isn’t secured, and they simply want to test them out, and if that is the case, they are clearly proving their worth to the team, having doing better than the team has experienced in years before.”

“This new driver clearly fits the new Haas car, pushing the car to extremes that we have yet to see from the team, they truly worked magic on their car since the last season as it is finally looking like it may be a competitor for the constructors if this performance is anything to go by”

“I am amazed at this new driver, jumping up another two positions to P4 in the debut race?? This is unheard of.”

“We are on the final two laps of this race and it looks like our little Haas driver is going to make an attempt to over take the Mercedes of George Russell, can he adequately defend his P3 position from this feisty new driver?”

“This is unheard of! The Haas attempting to overtake all three top positions in one go and THEY DO IT!!!! THEY PERFOM AN OVERTAKE MANOUVER THAT WOULD BRING A TEAR TO DANIEL RICCIARDO’S EYE!!! THIS IS UNBELIAVABLE!!!! THE CROWD IS LITERALLY ON THEIR FEET WATCHING THESE DRIVERS FIGHT FOR THE PODIUM”

“IT’S THE FINAL STRAIGHT BEFORE THE FLAG, CAN THE HAAS KEEP VERSTAPPEN AT BAY OR ARE THE GOING TO TAKE P2! NO, THEY TAKE P1 ON THEIR DEBUT RACE! THIS HAS TO BE A RECORD!”

“I am shocked, how did a rookie driver manage to take p1 on their debut race, this has been the opening race of a lifetime. I am truly in awe, who is this miracle driver that Haas has been hiding from the world?”

___________

“Dom, did I really just get P1?” You ask after crossing the line, beginning to do your cool down lap.

“Y/n, in the nicest way possible, how the fuck did you manage that?” Dom’s equally as shocked voice comes over the radio, leaving both of you silent.

You park your car in the P1 position, the Haas decals showing on the screen in lieu of the driver images. You slowly remove the steering wheel and climb out of the car that carried you to P1, still not quite believing what just happened. You briefly noticed your team shouting praises from behind the barrier, you having secured the first ever win for your team.

You can’t quite manage to move over to them though, still shaking from the adrenaline of the win. You instead sat down just in front of your car, head between your knees, trying to get your breathing under control and attempting, and failing, at keeping the tears at bay.

‘Oh God. You are going to be in so much trouble. The FIA are going to ban you from F1 aren’t they?’

‘What do you do now?’

‘Do you take your helmet off?’

‘Do you politely excuse yourself from media? Would they fine you if you’re meant to be hiding?’

‘Do you collect your trophy on the podium, or do you just leave it?’

‘Do you take your helmet off for the podium?’

‘That first-place cap is going to look really weird sitting on your helmet.’

You could feel the anxiety of the entire situation taking over, the full weight of what just happened finally hitting you like a ton of bricks.

Your life was about to change completely, for better AND for worse. - maybe the anonymity wasn’t all that bad after all.

Suddenly you see two feet in front of you, you lift your head as Gunther crouches down, lifting your visor to see your puffy read eyes filled with tears, he gives you a small sympathetic smile, almost as though he can hear the chaos going on inside your head.

“You did it Princess, you proved to everyone why you deserve to be here, and I couldn’t be prouder of you. Now, when you’re ready, I’m going to need you to take that helmet off and go and hurl yourself at your team so they can properly congratulate you and we can all celebrate” Gunther softly said to you, firmly, so you know how serious he is, but gently because he could see the great distress you were under.

“What if they all hate me?” You quietly whisper, unsure if Gunther was able to hear you at all.

“Honestly Princess, there will be some who do, you’re about to change the sport forever, and they’ll be even angrier because they know that you deserve to be here, but the truth is, you will always be the bad guy in someone’s story, so let them hate you, because even more will love you, and even out of those, your team, no, your family, will love you the most, and that’s what matters, now, go be with your team” Gunther says softly, a tear rolling down his own cheek.

You throw yourself at Gunther hugging him, nearly knocking him off his feet as you wrap your arms around his neck, him hugging you back just as tightly. This moment between the team principle and rookie driver causing the crowd to go wild. Next minute Gunther was pulling you up so you were standing next to him, you gave him a brief look and he just nodded, silently letting you know that no matter what he would be standing by your side, protecting you and fighting for your right to be in F1.

You slowly begin taking off your helmet and balaclava and the tension is palpable as the entire F1 world waited to see who the rookie Haas driver was.

The second your face and hair was in view, the crowd was suddenly screaming and going wild with excitement, you couldn’t help the tears streaming down your face at their reception of you into F1, so firmly believing that no one would accept you, yet here the fans all were, shouting your praises for winning your first race regardless. Gunther, with his own tears adoring his cheeks, grabbed your hand and lifted in above your head, prompting another cheer from the crowd, causing you to throw your head back laughing from happiness, feeling the goodness bubbling out of you without any way to stop it.

Next thing you know, you’re throwing yourself into the sea that is your team, and they are all hugging you, letting you know how proud they are of you, Dom screaming his congratulations at you, all the goodness and words all to overwhelming for you to comprehend.

You turn back to look at the other two podium winners, Charles and Max, both watching you with their own smiles, nodding their respect towards you, causing another wave of tears to fall.

You eventually made your way over to them, suddenly nerves kicking in again, hoping the drivers would take you seriously and respect you as a driver instead of immediately dismissing you.

“Well Princess, you do know that we aren’t going to be taking it easy on you right?” Max says first

“Jesus mate, can you not start with a congratulations first? Secondly, Princess? Really?” Charles immediately admonishes his friend.

“She’s the new princess of the paddock”, Max shrugs, “or are you upset someone is going to be taking that title away from you, with your way too done skin care routine?”

“You know we have to take care of our skin if we’re sweating this much in the helmets mate!” Charles begins to defend himself

You do nothing but giggle, thinking that there was no other place you belong as you listened to the two old friend’s bicker.

The princess of the Paddock, this was a title you could get used to having.

Always and Forever

Fandom: The Originals

Pairing: Mikaelson Family x Female!Reader (Platonic)

Summary: When your abusive ex-boyfriend shows up in New Orleans, you panic. Not wanting to burden the Mikaelson’s, you try and handle it yourself. When it all becomes too much, the Mikaelson’s are there to remind you that you are family and they protect their own.

Word Count: 3805

Warnings: TW description of past abuse, potentially triggering content, language, angst with a fluffy ending

A/N: This is only my third time posting my writing so feedback would be extremely appreciated!!! (Main account @hi-my-name-is-riley )

You like to think of yourself as an emotionally stable person. Granted, you have to drink a nasty liquid every day and wear jewelry to keep yourself protected from creatures that want to drink your blood, but, other than that, you do a great job balancing the normal and the crazy in your life, especially with the company you keep.

Because with them, crazy and normal are one and the same.

Walking into the crowded Mikaelson Compound, you feel like you’ve traveled back through time. You’re immediately greeted with the sound of live jazz and the sight of a multitude of individuals dressed in sharp suits and beautiful gowns. Taking in the view, you smile to yourself before going off to find the hosts of the evening.

It didn’t take long before you spotted two of the Mikaelson brothers. Elijah’s eyes met yours as you climbed the stairs to join them on the overlook, “Good evening, Y/N. Might I say you look absolutely beautiful.”

Waving him off, “You’re one to talk. You both look handsome tonight,” you returned the compliment, “But I can’t take all the credit. If it wasn’t for Nik’s hoarding tendencies, I would never have anything to wear to these shindigs.”

Nik chuckles, taking your hand in his and making you twirl, “You look better in this dress than the last owner ever could, love.”

You felt the blood rush to your cheeks and watched as the two brothers chuckled at your expense. You rolled your eyes, crossing your arms. “You two are the worst,” you mumbled.

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Here's what I'm consumed with today. How much Carlos lost absolutely everything when he and TK broke up because everything good in his life is connected in some way to TK. He temporarily lost the person he loves but he lost so much more than that. Carlos has to live alone in the place that was supposed to be their home. He found a second father in Owen, who was there for him before his own father was, and that would've been gone after TK was gone. Carlos has a better relationship with his parents because of TK. He needed to hear them both say they're proud of him so much and he needed it for years and he finally got it from them both in connection to something that happened with TK, and now he has to distance himself from them because he has to lie to them about TK breaking up with him. Carlos probably liked his job better because there was always the chance he might run into TK, and now that's become something he dreads. All of his friends were TK's friends first, and Nancy keeps inviting him to hang with them because she's kind but how long realistically would she have kept asking when she knew he was gonna say no? Carlos needed community so badly and he got it because of TK and now that's gone. He gets Grace as a friend because of TK. He gets Paul, another queer person, as a friend because of TK. He gets to indulge in his love of cooking and feeding people because of TK, he would have started to resent cooking after TK was gone because there was no one for him to cook for. Literally everything good Carlos had in his life was connected in some way to TK and it's just all gone after they break up and I get so damn heartbroken thinking about how truly alone this soft man was.

Want You

18+ Minors dni 

Love this. This was literally in the works and then I see this request in the middle of me writing it, chefs kiss.  I love jealously, idk what’s wrong with me but it scratches an itch I cannot describe.

Warnings: FLUFF, pregnancy, Smuuttt (daddy kink, breeding kink,) angst if you squint but honestly not really. 

Word count: 1.6k

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send me an angel - deacon kay x reader

Summary: When the reader gets in danger, Deacon needs being protective of her.

Request by @kenzie30david

Warnings: mentions of threat, swearing

English is not my first language and unfortunately it is not proofread (sorry)

Deacon lost ground as soon as he entered the headquarter, looking at the digital table where there were photos of 14 women, all with name for identification and age below. The only picture that mattered was of him, the woman he loved and that made him lose whatever sanity he had left.

“May I know what that means?” Deacon asks trying to sound as professional as possible.

“They are our possible victims, this morning eight of them received death and kidnapping threats and they all have in common a relationship with someone from SWAT.” Hondo responds.

“How are you sure they all have a relationship with someone from here?” Chris asks.

“The information is from the areas responsible for data collection, we are profiling them to find out who exactly they are with to keep them safe.” Hondo says

Deacon takes one last look at the table and leaves the area to try to call you while the rest of the team continues to work on locating each of the girls. After five failed attempts that took him straight to voicemail, he lets out a frustrated sigh and heads back to where he left the team.

“All are identified, only this one is missing.” Lucca says pointing to his picture.

“She must have been deceived among the others. We can call and check.” Street says, making everyone on the team agree.

"It won't be necessary." Deacon is serious. The entire team turns their heads to him, curiosity brimming on their faces.

"Why not? Do you know something?” Chris asks crossing his arms

"She is my girlfriend." Deacon responds with a sigh.

Silence dominated the environment, no one there knew for sure how to react, no one expected that Deacon would have someone after Annie.

“What do you mean girlfriend? You didn't say anything to us.” Luca says in disbelief.

"I know, I should have told you but she didn't want to and honestly I wasn't ready either." Deacon answers seriously.

Deacon's phone starts to ring, which makes his heart pound in his chest. As soon as he turned the viewfinder towards him, he could read his name on the screen.

"Why didn't you answer me?" Deacon asks.

"Because I was busy." You answer.

"I need you to come here now." Deacon says making you take a long breath on the other end of the line.

“What sudden authority is this? You were never like that.” You say worried.

“Babe, please… I need you to come here. You are in danger.” Deacon says, running an idle hand through his hair.

On the other end of the line you didn't know what to do, you just hung up the call and ran out taking the first taxi that passed. As soon as you get to Deacon, the first thing you see is your photo on the digital tablet.

"What is it?" You ask feeling your heart speed up even more.

"Someone is threatening the fellow SWAT members, we are investigating to find out the motivation but so far we don't have much." Chris says.

You blink several times and feel like you would start to hyperventilate. Deacon also notices and walks over to you, guiding you to a chair.

"I'm going to have to be stuck here is that it?" You ask, feeling tears fall.

“No, no way… we will work this out. I will never let anything happen to you my love, I will always protect you.” Deacon says kissing the top of her head. You really hoped that everything would be okay, but despite your fears you trusted Deacon. He was her guardian angel.