#daniel ricciardo drabble

[pucksandpower]

Enjoy the Butterflies

Daniel Ricciardo x crazy rich!Reader

Summary: in which Daniel gets dropped by his team and picked up by an heiress with a penchant for taking in strays

The heavy bass of the club still hums in your bones as you step out onto the pavement, the humid Singapore night wrapping around you like a second skin. The neon lights from Zouk, one of the city’s most exclusive nightclubs, pulse in rhythm with your heartbeat, and for a second, you stand still, relishing the quiet that follows hours of dancing, laughter, and too many cocktails.

The sounds of the party still echo behind you, a muffled roar of privilege and extravagance, but out here, it’s just you and the night.

Or so you think.

Your attention is pulled toward a commotion just a few meters away. You blink, trying to make sense of the scene. There’s a man — definitely not local, tall, and a little scruffy compared to the sharp-dressed crowd you’re used to — being unceremoniously escorted out by one of the bouncers. His head hangs low, and his shoulders are slumped in a way that screams defeat.

It’s not the dramatic, messy kind of exit where someone’s too drunk to stand, or too proud to admit they’ve done something wrong. No, this is different. This guy isn’t even trying to fight back.

“Get lost,” the bouncer grunts, shoving the man one last time before turning to head back inside.

You can’t help it — you freeze, your gaze lingering on him. He doesn’t move, just leans against the wall like he’s considering sinking to the ground. His posture is pitiful in a way that tugs at something inside you, that soft part of you that your family says is too soft. The part that’s always drawn to the broken, the hopeless, the ones who don’t quite fit.

He lets out a long, dramatic sigh, his eyes flicking up to the club entrance, like maybe if he stares long enough, he’ll magically be allowed back in. He’s pathetic. There’s no other word for it. But he’s also kind of endearing, in a weird way.

“Pathetic,” you mutter under your breath, half-amused.

You could leave him there, you know that. This isn’t your problem. He’ll figure something out. Or not. It’s not like you owe him anything, but …

"Are you just going to stand there?” You hear yourself saying, your feet already moving toward him before you can stop them.

His head snaps up, clearly not expecting anyone to address him. His eyes — big, brown, and confused — lock onto yours. He’s a little scruffy, but there’s something boyishly charming about him.

“I — uh,” he stammers, straightening up slightly but still looking like he’d rather be anywhere else. “No. I mean, yeah, I guess?”

You roll your eyes. “That’s not an answer.”

He shrugs helplessly. “Well, I don’t really have one. Kinda got kicked out of the only place I planned on being tonight.”

You narrow your eyes. “What did you do?”

“I, uh …” He scratches the back of his neck, clearly uncomfortable. “I don’t know, honestly. Might’ve been a little too loud, or maybe I was blocking someone important from getting their drinks. These places, man, they don’t like it when you’re … disruptive.”

You cross your arms, glancing at him up and down. He doesn’t look dangerous, just out of place. “You sound like you deserved it.”

He winces. “Probably did.”

There’s a beat of silence, and you’re still standing there, wondering why you’re wasting your time. Then, before you know it, you’re sighing. Your family would shake their heads at you, calling you too kind for your own good.

“Come on,” you say, jerking your head toward the curb. “Let’s go.”

He blinks. “What?”

You nod toward the curb, where your Rolls Royce waits, engine quietly idling. The chauffeur stands by, staring straight ahead like this is the most normal thing in the world, like this isn’t some insane act of kindness you’re pulling out of nowhere.

“I’m not leaving you out here,” you say, already heading toward the car. “Get in.”

“Uh — wait, seriously?” He hurries to catch up, still clearly not processing what’s happening. “You don’t even know me.”

You shrug, throwing a look over your shoulder. “Do I need to?”

“Usually, yeah,” he says, jogging slightly to keep pace with you. “I mean, what if I’m like, a complete psycho or something?”

“If you were, I doubt you’d be sitting against a wall feeling sorry for yourself,” you shoot back, opening the car door. “Now get in before I change my mind.”

There’s a brief moment of hesitation, like he’s weighing his options, but then he shakes his head, muttering something under his breath, and slides into the backseat beside you. The leather is cool against your skin, the scent of luxury and privilege permeating the air, and for a second, it’s quiet as the door closes behind you both.

The driver pulls away from the curb smoothly, not asking questions.

“So … you do this often?” The man asks, still clearly bewildered. “Pick up random guys outside clubs?”

You snort, turning to face him. “Definitely not.”

“Then why me?”

You shrug. “You looked pathetic.”

His eyebrows shoot up, and for a second, you think you’ve offended him, but then he laughs — loud, unabashed, and surprising. “Wow. Okay. Well, thanks, I guess?”

You smile despite yourself. “Don’t mention it.”

He leans back in the seat, still grinning. “I’m Daniel, by the way. Ricciardo. Not sure if that means anything to you.”

You narrow your eyes, the name clicking into place. “The F1 driver?”

He looks a little sheepish but nods. “Yeah, that’s me.”

You stare at him for a moment, processing that. It’s not like you keep up with racing, but you’ve definitely heard of him. Seen him in ads, maybe, or on TV. It’s a little weird, thinking about it now. The same guy who’s smiling at you, a little bashfully, is famous in his own right.

“I didn’t recognize you,” you say, somewhat apologetic.

He shrugs again, more relaxed now. “Don’t worry about it. Happens more often than you think. Usually, I’m not getting kicked out of places, though.”

You smirk. “Good to know.”

There’s a comfortable silence after that, the two of you settling into the soft hum of the car as it glides through the streets. You steal a glance at him, watching as he stares out the window, looking slightly more at peace now that he’s not sitting on the pavement outside of a nightclub. He catches you looking, raising an eyebrow.

“So, you’re just gonna take me home, drop me off like a stray cat?” He teases, flashing you that boyish grin again.

You tilt your head, pretending to think about it. “Depends. Do stray cats usually get rides in Rolls Royces?”

“Only the ones that get kicked out of clubs,” he fires back, and you can’t help but laugh.

This was definitely not how you expected your night to go.

***

You lean back in your seat, letting the smooth hum of the Rolls Royce fill the silence for a moment. Daniel seems more relaxed now, but there’s still something hanging in the air, something that makes you look at him again, curiosity getting the better of you.

"So," you say, turning your head slightly to study him, "where am I dropping you off? What hotel are you staying at?"

Daniel blinks, the question catching him off guard. He looks at you, then at the ceiling of the car like the answer might be written somewhere above his head. “Uh … yeah, about that …”

You narrow your eyes. “You don’t know, do you?”

He winces, running a hand through his tousled hair. “Not exactly. I mean, I know I checked into a place, obviously, but I can’t remember the name right now.”

“You can’t remember what hotel you’re staying at?” Your tone is somewhere between disbelief and amusement.

Daniel shrugs, unbothered. “It’s been a long day. Plus, there’s like, a million hotels in Singapore. They all start to blur together.”

You can’t help the small laugh that escapes you. “Okay, genius. So how were you planning on getting back?”

“Hadn’t thought that far ahead,” he admits, grinning lazily. Then, the grin fades, and something shifts in his expression — something a little sadder, more raw. “Honestly, even if I did know, I don’t really want to go back there.”

You frown. “Why not?”

He hesitates, eyes flicking to the window as if he can avoid answering by watching the city lights whiz by. After a long pause, he sighs and leans back against the seat, rubbing a hand over his face.

“I got dropped,” he mutters, almost too quietly for you to hear.

“Dropped?” You repeat, confused. “From what?”

“From my team,” he clarifies, his voice a little hoarse. “VCARB. They, uh, decided they didn’t want me around anymore.”

You blink, the realization hitting you like a sudden cold wave. “Oh.”

Daniel doesn’t say anything for a moment, the silence growing heavy. You can see the tension in his shoulders, the way his fingers twitch slightly as he picks at an invisible thread on his jeans.

“I mean,” he finally continues, forcing a smile that doesn’t quite reach his eyes, “I kinda saw it coming. Just didn’t think it’d happen this fast, y’know?”

The lightheartedness from earlier is completely gone now, replaced by something darker, something heavier. You can feel the weight of it pressing down on him, the frustration and sadness barely concealed behind his crooked grin.

“I thought I had more time,” he says softly, his voice raw with vulnerability. “But I guess that’s how it goes. One day you’re on top of the world, and the next … well, you’re getting kicked out of nightclubs.”

You stay quiet, unsure of what to say. You weren’t expecting to find yourself in this situation tonight — sitting in the back of a Rolls Royce with a famous F1 driver who just lost his job. And yet, here you are, listening to him spill his heart out in the middle of the night, somewhere between Zouk and wherever he was supposed to go next.

“I just don’t want to be around them right now,” he continues, voice thick. “The team, the people … they’re all pretending to be nice, like it’s just business, but it’s not. It’s my life. My career.”

He shakes his head, letting out a soft, bitter laugh. “And now it’s over. Just like that.”

You let out a sigh, long and heavy. “So, you don’t want to go back to your hotel?”

“Not really,” Daniel mutters, slumping back in his seat.

You stare at him for a second, weighing your options. Your chauffeur is driving aimlessly through the city, waiting for your instructions, and Daniel is sitting here, lost in his own world of disappointment. He looks tired, drained, and you’re not cruel enough to leave him like this.

“Well,” you say, after a beat of silence, “I guess you’re coming with me then.”

Daniel’s head snaps up, his brows furrowing. “Wait, what?”

You glance at him, your voice firm. “You heard me. You can’t remember your hotel, you don’t want to go back even if you could, and I’m not about to leave you wandering around Singapore. So, you’re coming to my place.”

He stares at you, eyes wide with a mixture of surprise and disbelief. “Are you serious?”

You roll your eyes. “Would I say it if I wasn’t?”

For a moment, he looks like he’s about to argue, but then he slumps back in his seat again, exhaling a long, tired breath. “Alright. If you’re sure.”

You nod, already turning to the front of the car. “Take us home,” you tell your chauffeur, who acknowledges the instruction with a curt nod before the car smoothly shifts direction.

Daniel leans his head against the window, eyes heavy. “Thanks,” he mumbles, his voice barely audible. “You really didn’t have to do this.”

You wave it off. “I know.”

A few minutes pass in silence, the soft sound of the tires against the road lulling both of you into a calm quiet. You glance over at Daniel again, noticing how his eyelids are drooping more and more, his head bobbing slightly as he fights to stay awake.

“You look like you’re about to pass out,” you comment, amused.

“M’not,” he protests, but his words are already slurred. “Just … resting my eyes.”

You raise an eyebrow. “Sure.”

It doesn’t take long before his breathing evens out, and his head tips to the side, fully succumbing to sleep. You shake your head, watching him for a moment. He looks peaceful like this, the weight of whatever he’s been carrying lifted, if only temporarily.

“Of course,” you mutter to yourself, leaning back in your seat, “this is how my night ends.”

The car pulls up in front of your building — a sleek, modern tower in one of the city’s most exclusive neighborhoods. Your chauffeur steps out first, coming around to open the door for you. You step out gracefully, smoothing your dress, but when you look back into the car, Daniel is still out cold, slumped awkwardly in the seat.

You sigh. “This is not happening.”

Your chauffeur, ever professional, stands at attention, waiting for your next move. You consider your options for a second before glancing at him. “Help me get him inside, will you?”

The chauffeur doesn’t hesitate, nodding curtly. He moves to the other side of the car and carefully opens the door. Together, you manage to maneuver Daniel out of the backseat, his arm draped over the chauffeur’s shoulder as he leans heavily against him. Daniel stirs slightly but doesn’t wake, too deep in sleep to even register what’s happening.

The doorman, recognizing you immediately, rushes over to assist. “Miss Y/L/N,” he says, eyes flicking from you to the unconscious Daniel, a flicker of confusion crossing his face. “Is everything alright?”

“It’s fine,” you say quickly, giving him a tight smile. “Just … had a long night.”

The doorman nods, not pressing further, and helps the chauffeur guide Daniel through the lobby and into the elevator. You follow behind, feeling a little ridiculous but knowing there’s no turning back now.

The elevator ride is quiet, save for Daniel’s soft breathing as he leans against the wall, still fast asleep. You glance at him, half-amused, half-exasperated. What a night.

When you finally reach your penthouse, the door slides open smoothly, and the chauffeur and doorman gently ease Daniel onto your plush couch. He sprawls out, looking even more out of place among the sleek, expensive furniture, but you can’t help but chuckle at the sight.

“Thanks,” you tell the men, who nod before excusing themselves quietly, leaving you alone with your unexpected guest.

You stand there for a moment, looking at Daniel as he sleeps soundly on your couch. His shoes are still on, one arm hanging off the side, and his mouth slightly open in a way that’s almost comical. Shaking your head, you grab a blanket from a nearby chair and drape it over him.

“Well, this is definitely not how I thought my night would go,” you mutter to yourself, standing back and crossing your arms as you look at him one last time.

With a sigh, you turn and head toward your bedroom, already mentally preparing for the chaos tomorrow is likely to bring.

***

You’re in the middle of a dream when you hear it — the unmistakable sound of your mother’s voice. Loud, sharp, and utterly out of place in the peaceful silence of your penthouse. Your eyes snap open, heart pounding in your chest as you try to piece together why in the world she would be here, at this ungodly hour.

And then you hear it. A scream.

“Who is this man?”

Your stomach drops, the reality of last night hitting you like a freight train. Daniel. He’s still here. Passed out on your couch. And now, your very traditional mother is standing in your living room, probably about to have a heart attack.

You scramble out of bed, nearly tripping over yourself as you rush toward the living room. You can already hear her ranting, a mix of shock and outrage in her voice, and you don’t even have time to think before you’re standing in front of her, trying to calm the situation down.

“Mum!” You blurt out, trying to sound casual, like this isn’t the absolute disaster it clearly is. “What are you doing here?”

Your mother’s eyes are wide, her perfectly manicured hand pressed dramatically against her chest as she stares down at Daniel, who’s still blissfully unconscious, mouth slightly open, one arm dangling off the edge of the couch.

“I could ask you the same thing!” She snaps, her voice rising with every word. “Why is there a man sleeping in your living room? And why-” she leans in, eyes narrowing, “does he look like he’s been out drinking all night?”

Your mind races, panic bubbling up as you try to figure out what to say, what kind of excuse would possibly explain this. And then, without even thinking, the words tumble out of your mouth.

“He’s … he’s my boyfriend.”

The second the lie leaves your lips, you know it’s a terrible idea. But it’s too late now. Your mother freezes, her eyes narrowing suspiciously as she looks between you and Daniel. “Your … boyfriend?” She repeats, her tone incredulous.

You nod, forcing a tight smile, praying that Daniel stays asleep long enough for you to get through this. “Yes. My boyfriend.”

Your mother looks like she’s about to faint. “And you didn’t tell me? You-”

“I was going to!” you interrupt quickly. “But it’s … it’s new. Very new. I didn’t want to say anything until I was sure.”

She crosses her arms, still clearly not buying it. “And this is how you introduce him to your mother? Drunk and passed out in your living room?”

“He’s not drunk,” you say quickly, even though that’s obviously a lie. “He’s … uh, just really tired. He’s been going through a lot lately.”

At that moment, you hear a groan from the couch. You glance over, heart sinking as Daniel stirs, slowly blinking awake. His face is pale, and the second he opens his eyes, you can see the hangover written all over him.

“Wh-” Daniel starts, voice groggy as he sits up, rubbing a hand over his face. “Where …”

Your mother’s eyes widen, and she turns to you, her expression one of absolute horror. “This is him?” She whispers, like you’ve just committed some kind of unspeakable crime.

You give her a weak smile. “Yes. Mum, this is Daniel.”

Daniel’s head snaps up at the sound of his name, his bleary eyes trying to make sense of the situation. He looks at you, confused, and you give him a pointed look, willing him to just go along with it.

"Daniel," you say through gritted teeth, “this is my mother. Remember? I told you she might stop by.”

Daniel blinks at you, his brow furrowed in confusion. It takes a second, but you can practically see the gears turning in his brain as he tries to process what’s happening. Finally, he nods slowly, trying to catch up. “Right. Your mum. Uh, hi.”

Your mother stares at him, unimpressed. “Are you alright?” She asks, her voice cold and judgmental.

Daniel, still clearly half-asleep and in the throes of a wicked hangover, gives her a shaky smile. “Yeah, just … didn’t sleep great,” he mumbles, leaning back into the couch.

You wince internally, but keep up the act. “He’s been working so hard lately,” you say quickly, hoping to smooth things over. “With his job and everything.”

Your mother’s eyes narrow further. “And what does he do, exactly?”

Daniel glances at you, panic flickering in his eyes, clearly not prepared for this interrogation. You jump in before he can make things worse.

“He’s … in sports,” you say vaguely. “He’s an athlete.”

Your mother’s gaze doesn’t soften in the slightest. “What kind of athlete?”

You feel Daniel’s eyes on you, pleading silently for help. “Formula 1,” you say quickly. “He’s a Formula 1 driver.”

Your mother blinks, taken aback by this revelation. “A race car driver?” She repeats, like it’s the most absurd thing she’s ever heard. “That’s … interesting.”

You can tell she’s not impressed, but at least it’s bought you a little time. You just need to get through this without her prying too much further.

“I promise, Mum, Daniel’s a good guy,” you say, trying to sound convincing. “He just … had a rough night. That’s all.”

Your mother’s gaze flicks between you and Daniel, suspicion still heavy in her eyes. “And where did he sleep?”

You freeze. “Uh …”

Daniel, finally catching on to what’s happening, sits up a little straighter. “I slept here,” he says quickly, gesturing to the couch. “On the couch. I didn’t … you know …”

He trails off, looking at your mother awkwardly, but the message is clear.

Your mother’s eyebrows shoot up, surprised by his admission. “You didn’t share a bed?”

You shake your head vigorously. “No, Mum. We didn’t share a bed. We’re not married, remember?”

For the first time since she walked in, your mother seems to relax a little, her rigid posture softening just a bit. “Well,” she says, sounding somewhat mollified, “at least he has some morals.”

You breathe a silent sigh of relief, nodding along. “Exactly. Daniel’s … very respectful.”

Daniel gives a small, awkward smile, clearly still trying to wrap his head around the situation. “Uh, yeah. Very … respectful.”

Your mother studies him for a moment longer, then nods, satisfied. “Well, I suppose it could be worse.”

You almost laugh at that but manage to keep a straight face. “Right.”

There’s a brief pause as your mother smooths down her dress, glancing around the penthouse like she’s looking for something to criticize. Then, her eyes land back on you, and she smiles — one of those deceptively sweet smiles that always makes you nervous.

“Well,” she says brightly, “since I’m here, I’d love to get to know Daniel a bit better. Why don’t you two join me for dinner tonight?”

You blink, caught off guard. “Dinner? Tonight?”

Your mother nods, clearly not taking no for an answer. “Yes. I think it’s high time I meet this boyfriend of yours properly.”

You glance at Daniel, who’s looking at you with wide, slightly panicked eyes. You can tell he’s regretting every decision that led him to this moment, but there’s no way out now. You’re both trapped.

“Uh, sure,” you say weakly. “We’d love to.”

Your mother beams, clearly pleased with herself. “Wonderful! I’ll have my assistant call to make the reservation. Seven o’clock sharp. You know where. Don’t be late.”

Before you can respond, she’s already turning on her heel, heading toward the door with a satisfied smile on her face. “I’ll see you both tonight,” she calls over her shoulder as she exits, leaving you standing there in stunned silence.

The door clicks shut, and the room is suddenly, blissfully quiet.

You turn to Daniel, who’s staring at you, still half-dazed from sleep and now fully confused about what just happened.

“Boyfriend?” He croaks, his voice rough from the hangover.

You let out a long, exasperated sigh, rubbing your temples. “I panicked.”

He groans, flopping back onto the couch. “Dinner with your mum? Really?”

“Yes. And if you don’t play along, I’m pretty sure she’ll disown me.”

Daniel chuckles weakly, rubbing his temples. “Great. Just great.”

You stare at him for a moment, then flop down next to him on the couch, letting your head fall back against the cushions. “This is a disaster.”

“Eh,” Daniel mutters, eyes closed. “Could be worse.”

You shoot him a look. “How?”

He cracks one eye open, grinning. “At least I didn’t throw up on her.”

You groan, burying your face in your hands. “That’s not funny.”

But when you look up, you can’t help but laugh, because as ridiculous as this entire situation is, somehow, in the madness of it all, you know tonight is going to be even worse.

***

Dinner is already awkward. You can feel the tension every time your mother glances at Daniel, her polite smile not quite reaching her eyes. It’s a small, exclusive restaurant, the kind of place where the waiters wear gloves, and the courses are tiny but outrageously expensive. The chef is renowned for his traditional yet experimental take on Singaporean cuisine, which is perfect because your mother insists on a display of sophistication when it comes to hosting. Unfortunately, that also means the pressure on Daniel is palpable.

Daniel sits across from you, trying to look comfortable, though his hand is constantly fiddling with his napkin under the table. Your mother, seated beside him, is maintaining her usual air of grace, but you can see she’s sizing him up, scrutinizing every bite, every word. And you … you’re just trying to survive.

“So, Daniel,” your mother begins, swirling her wine like a seasoned critic, “what are your long-term plans? With your career, I mean.”

Daniel freezes with his fork halfway to his mouth, the question clearly catching him off guard. He clears his throat, scrambling to find an answer that sounds impressive. “Well, uh, things are a bit … in flux right now,” he says, offering a weak smile. “But I’m working on it.”

Your mother arches an eyebrow. “In flux? That doesn’t sound very … stable.”

You kick Daniel lightly under the table, silently willing him to come up with something better than “in flux.” He glances at you for help, but you just widen your eyes, urging him to recover.

“Yeah, well,” Daniel says, trying to salvage the conversation, “I’ve been racing for a while, you know? Formula 1. It’s a pretty high-pressure job, so … I’m considering my next move carefully.”

Your mother makes a noncommittal hum, clearly unimpressed. “I see.”

You want to sink into the floor.

“I’m going to excuse myself for a moment,” you say quickly, standing from the table. “I’ll be right back.”

Daniel gives you a look that screams *don’t leave me alone with her*, but there’s no way around it. You shoot him an apologetic smile before making your way toward the restroom, leaving him to fend for himself.

As soon as you’re gone, the silence at the table becomes almost deafening. Daniel shifts uncomfortably in his seat, glancing around the room as if he’s suddenly forgotten how to act normal. He’s about to reach for his water glass when he notices your mother watching him closely.

“So,” she says, her tone unnervingly calm, “Daniel.”

He straightens up, unsure if he should be relieved or terrified that she’s addressing him directly. “Yes, ma’am?”

“I think we should speak candidly, don’t you?” She says, her voice as smooth as silk but with an edge that makes Daniel’s skin crawl. She reaches into her handbag, and Daniel feels his stomach lurch with nerves. What’s she going to pull out? A contract? Some kind of questionnaire?

What she pulls out, however, is much worse.

It’s a small, velvet box. A ring box.

Daniel’s heart stops. His eyes widen as he stares at the box, his mind spinning, trying to make sense of what’s happening.

Your mother places the box delicately in front of him, her expression serene, like she’s offering him a cup of tea rather than a proposal-sized bombshell. “I’ve been waiting for Y/N to bring home a boy for quite some time,” she says, her voice soft but pointed. “And now that she has … well, I can’t let this moment pass.”

Daniel opens and closes his mouth, but no words come out. He’s too stunned to respond, completely blindsided by this sudden turn of events.

Your mother’s eyes gleam, and she leans in slightly, lowering her voice as if she’s sharing a secret. “Of course, I would have preferred if you were Singaporean,” she continues, her tone just a touch sharper, “but I’m not getting any younger, and I want grandchildren. So, we can’t be picky, can we?”

Daniel’s mind goes blank. He tries to form a coherent thought, a response, anything, but all that comes out is a strangled, “I … uh …”

Your mother regards him with the same calm, calculating gaze she’s had since the start of dinner, as though this entire interaction is completely normal. “You’ll do,” she says simply, and there’s a finality in her tone that makes it clear this isn’t up for debate.

Daniel stares at the ring box, his brain short-circuiting. Is this really happening? He glances around the restaurant, half-expecting someone to jump out and tell him it’s all some elaborate prank. But no one does. It’s just him, your mother, and the heavy weight of that velvet box sitting between them.

He’s completely out of his depth. He can’t even think of how to respond to your mother’s words, let alone the fact that she’s just essentially handed him an engagement ring.

“I-” he starts again, but his throat is dry, and nothing coherent follows.

“Daniel,” she interrupts smoothly, her gaze sharpening. “You’re a good man, I can tell. And you’re very … respectful.” The word drips with meaning, making Daniel shift in his seat.

Before he can stammer out anything in return, the restroom door swings open, and you reappear, walking back toward the table, blissfully unaware of the bomb that’s just been dropped.

Daniel panics. His mind races as you approach, and without thinking, he snatches the ring box off the table, slipping it into his jacket pocket in one swift movement. His heart is racing, his palms suddenly sweaty, but he tries to keep his expression neutral.

“Everything alright?” You ask, sliding back into your seat, oblivious to the tension radiating from both Daniel and your mother.

Daniel clears his throat, forcing a tight smile. “Yep. All good.”

Your mother smiles pleasantly, folding her hands in her lap. “Oh, we were just having a lovely little chat.”

You look between them suspiciously, but there’s no sign of the chaos that just occurred. Daniel’s poker face is impressive, but you can sense something is off. You raise an eyebrow at him, and he just gives you a strained smile in return.

The rest of dinner is a blur. You try to focus on the conversation, but your mother seems to be on her best behavior, keeping things light and superficial. Daniel is unusually quiet, nodding along and making polite comments when necessary, but there’s something distant about him, like he’s somewhere else entirely.

By the time dessert arrives, you can’t shake the feeling that something happened while you were gone. But Daniel isn’t saying a word, and your mother’s serene expression betrays nothing.

As the waiter clears the last of the plates, your mother dabs at her mouth with her napkin, looking between the two of you with an air of satisfaction. “Well,” she says, standing from the table, “this has been lovely. I’m so glad we could all spend this time together.”

You force a smile, standing as well. “Yes, of course. It was … lovely.”

Daniel stands too, his movements a little stiffer than usual, like he’s trying to keep his hands from shaking. “Thank you for dinner, Mrs. Y/L/N,” he says politely, though his voice is a bit strained.

Your mother gives him one last, long look, then smiles warmly. “Oh, Daniel, you’re always welcome. Anytime.”

With that, she gathers her things and heads for the door, leaving you and Daniel standing there in stunned silence. You let out a breath you didn’t realize you were holding, turning to Daniel.

“Well, that wasn’t too bad, was it?” You ask, trying to lighten the mood.

Daniel gives a weak chuckle, rubbing the back of his neck. “Yeah … not too bad.”

You narrow your eyes at him, picking up on the odd tone in his voice. “Are you sure? You’ve been acting weird since I got back to the table.”

He blinks, his hand instinctively brushing the pocket where the ring box is hidden. “Uh, yeah. I’m fine. Just … full. Really full.”

You raise an eyebrow, not entirely convinced, but decide to let it slide for now. “Alright. If you say so.”

As you both head for the door, Daniel’s mind is still racing, the weight of the ring box burning a hole in his pocket. He has no idea what to do with it, or what your mother expects from him, but one thing is for sure — he’s in way over his head.

And he’s not sure how much longer he can keep pretending.

***

Back at your penthouse, the atmosphere feels … tense. Not the sort of charged tension from earlier, but something more fragile, awkward. The kind that makes everything feel a bit too quiet, like the air is too thick with things unsaid. You and Daniel are sitting on opposite ends of the plush couch in your living room. It’s not that big of a couch, but the distance feels enormous.

Daniel is fidgeting, running a hand through his hair, tapping his fingers on his knee. You’re sitting with your arms crossed, staring at him, waiting. But waiting for what, exactly? Neither of you knows. The silence stretches between you both, and it’s unbearable. Every breath feels louder than it should.

“Uh …” Daniel finally starts, rubbing the back of his neck, clearly trying to find something — anything — to say. But nothing seems right, so he just ends up staring back at you, eyes darting around like he’s looking for a way out.

You, on the other hand, are unusually still, your eyes narrowed at him. It’s like you’re waiting for him to make the first move, but he’s not catching on. Not yet.

Daniel swallows hard, and after a moment of hesitation, his hand moves toward his jacket pocket. Your eyes flick to the motion, and his fingers tremble slightly as they close around the velvet box, pulling it out with an awkward kind of determination, as if it’s weighing him down more than anything. He holds it for a second, staring at it like it’s a puzzle he can’t solve.

Then, with a breath he didn’t realize he was holding, he opens the box.

The soft click of the hinge seems impossibly loud in the room, and for a moment, all you can do is stare. The ring glimmers under the soft lighting, catching the faintest reflection of the overhead chandelier. It’s not just any ring. You recognize it immediately.

And then, as if someone flipped a switch, you start laughing.

Daniel’s eyes snap to you in confusion, his brows furrowing. “What … what’s so funny?”

You’re still giggling, pressing your hand to your mouth to muffle the sound, but it doesn’t work. The laughter bubbles up uncontrollably, and Daniel looks like he’s caught between being relieved that you’re not mad and completely baffled by your reaction.

“You-” you manage between breaths, “That ring … that’s my grandmother’s. Oh my God, she’s really lost it.”

Daniel blinks, glancing down at the ring again, his confusion only deepening. “Wait, what?”

“My mother,” you say, wiping a tear from your eye, “She must be really desperate to get me married off if she’s giving out my grandmother’s ring to the first guy I bring to dinner. I can’t believe it.”

Daniel stares at you for a second, then back at the ring. “This is your … grandmother’s?” His voice is shaky, like the absurdity of the situation is just now hitting him.

You nod, biting your lip to stifle another laugh. “Yup. She always said it was meant for the man I’d marry one day. Guess she couldn’t wait any longer.”

Daniel’s face goes through a range of emotions — shock, embarrassment, and finally, something like disbelief. “I … I don’t even know what to say.”

You snicker again, leaning back against the couch and crossing your arms. “I think the bigger question here is — why didn’t you say anything to me? Did you just plan on pocketing the ring and hoping I wouldn’t notice?”

Daniel shifts uncomfortably, his cheeks flushing. “I — I didn’t know what to do. Your mom just … handed it to me. I mean, what was I supposed to say? ‘No, thank you, ma’am, I’m not ready for an arranged marriage just yet?’”

You raise an eyebrow, amused. “That might’ve been a good start.”

He opens his mouth to protest, then closes it again, clearly struggling to find a way out of this. Finally, he lets out a defeated sigh and leans back, running both hands through his hair. “This is insane.”

“You think?” You quip, smirking.

Daniel’s gaze drops to the ring again, and there’s a beat of silence before you speak up, this time your tone more playful than mocking. “Well,” you say, drawing out the word, “if you’re gonna propose, you should at least get on one knee. You know, for tradition’s sake.”

Daniel’s head snaps up, eyes wide in disbelief. “What?”

You laugh again, your teasing smile growing. “I mean, come on. If we’re going through with this charade, you might as well go all in. Get down on one knee, Ricciardo.”

He blinks at you, completely at a loss for words. “You’re not serious.”

“Why not?” You shoot back, still grinning. “What’s stopping you? You don’t have a job anymore, so it’s not like you have much else going on. You could always be my trophy husband.”

There’s a flicker of something in Daniel’s eyes — part shock, part amusement, and maybe just a little bit of something else. “Trophy husband?” He echoes, his voice incredulous.

You shrug, leaning forward and resting your chin on your hand, as if the idea were the most obvious thing in the world. “Yeah. I mean, think about it. You wouldn’t have to work, I’d take care of you. You could just … exist. Isn’t that every guy’s dream?”

Daniel laughs — an actual laugh this time, though it’s tinged with disbelief. “You’re crazy, you know that?”

You grin. “Maybe. But I’m also not wrong.”

For a moment, the room is quiet again, but it’s not the awkward silence from before. This is something lighter, filled with the remnants of laughter and the weight of an unspoken understanding. Daniel is still holding the ring box, his thumb absently running over the velvet surface as he processes everything that’s just happened.

And then, because clearly, the universe hasn’t thrown enough chaos at him lately, Daniel does something that surprises both of you.

He nods.

It’s a small, hesitant nod at first, like he’s not even sure he’s agreeing to anything real. But then he meets your gaze, and there’s a flicker of something — maybe exhaustion, maybe delirium, maybe just the sheer absurdity of it all — and he nods again. This time, more certain.

“Alright,” he says quietly, still staring at the ring. “Okay.”

You freeze, blinking at him in surprise. “Wait … what?”

Daniel looks up at you, his expression unreadable but calm. “I said … okay. Let’s do it.”

For the first time tonight, you’re the one who’s caught off guard. “You’re joking.”

He shakes his head slowly, his lips quirking into a half-smile. “Nope.”

You sit up straighter, suddenly unsure whether you’re still in the middle of some elaborate joke or if the reality of the past few days has finally broken Daniel’s sense of logic. “You — wait, seriously? You’d marry me?”

Daniel shrugs, though there’s a glimmer of humor in his eyes now. “I mean, like you said … I don’t have a job anymore. And hey, being a trophy husband doesn’t sound half bad.”

You stare at him, searching his face for any sign of a punchline. But the longer you look, the more you realize he’s not kidding. He’s serious. Or as serious as someone in his situation can be.

A beat passes. Then another.

And suddenly, you burst into laughter again.

“God, you’re insane,” you say, shaking your head in disbelief. “This whole thing is insane.”

Daniel grins, leaning back into the couch with a relieved sigh, as if your laughter has lifted the tension from the room entirely. “Welcome to my life.”

You shake your head again, still chuckling, though there’s something warm and strange growing in your chest. “I can’t believe I’m even considering this.”

Daniel glances at the ring one more time before closing the box with a soft click and slipping it back into his pocket. “Hey,” he says, his voice softer now, “if nothing else, at least we’ll give your mother something to talk about at her next dinner party.”

You snort, rolling your eyes. “Oh, she’ll have a field day.”

For a moment, the two of you just sit there, side by side on the couch, the absurdity of the night finally settling over you both. It’s ridiculous, completely irrational, and yet somehow, in this moment, it feels … right.

Daniel nudges you with his elbow, breaking the silence. “So … when’s the wedding?”

You groan, but you can’t help the smile that tugs at your lips. “Let’s not get ahead of ourselves.”

Daniel chuckles, leaning back into the cushions, finally starting to relax. “Yeah. One step at a time.”

But even as you say it, you can’t shake the feeling that this strange, accidental engagement is just the beginning of something even more complicated.

And maybe you’re okay with that.

***

You come home the next afternoon, practically skipping into the penthouse, your eyes sparkling with excitement. The energy around you is contagious, and even Daniel, who’s lounging on the couch with a glass of water — probably trying to recover from the whirlwind of the past few days — can’t help but smile at your entrance.

“You look … happy,” Daniel says, a slow grin spreading across his face. “What did I miss?”

You clap your hands together like an excited child, barely containing your glee. “I got you something.”

Daniel’s smile falters for a moment, confusion flickering in his eyes. “Wait, what? You got me something?” He straightens up on the couch, his brows furrowing. “You really didn’t have to do that-”

“Shush.” You wave a hand at him, cutting him off before he can protest further. “I wanted to. Trust me, you’re going to love it.”

Daniel chuckles, though there’s a nervous edge to his voice. “Alright, alright. What is it then? A new watch? Shoes?” He pauses, glancing at you skeptically. “Wait, is it another one of your mum’s rings?”

You shake your head, grinning like you’ve just pulled off the best surprise in the world. “Nope. Guess again.”

He raises an eyebrow, leaning forward slightly. “Okay … well, whatever it is, I’m sure it’s great but-”

“I bought Red Bull Racing.”

For a second, it’s like the words don’t register. Daniel blinks at you, his expression blank as his brain tries to process what you just said. There’s a long beat of silence before his mouth finally drops open in disbelief.

“You … you what?”

Your grin widens. “I bought Red Bull Racing. You know, the Formula 1 team? Your old team?” You say it so casually, like you’re talking about picking up a pair of shoes or booking a vacation.

Daniel’s jaw is still hanging open. “You — wait — are you serious?” He’s half laughing now, like he’s trying to figure out if this is some kind of joke. But the look on your face — pure, unfiltered joy — tells him you’re very, very serious.

“Yup!” You say, popping the ‘p’ for emphasis. “Apparently, if you offer double what a team is worth, the owners tend to sell pretty quickly. Who knew?”

Daniel stares at you, completely slack-jawed, like you’ve just told him you bought a small country. “You … bought Red Bull Racing?” His voice cracks a little as he repeats it, as if saying it out loud will make it more real.

You nod, your smile never faltering. “Yup. Just closed the deal this morning.”

“Jesus Christ.” Daniel runs a hand through his hair, looking like he might faint. “Are you insane?”

“Maybe a little,” you admit with a playful shrug. “But it’s an engagement gift, you know? Gotta keep things exciting.”

Daniel lets out a breathless laugh, shaking his head in disbelief. “I … I don’t even know what to say. That’s — this is crazy.”

“I know,” you say, beaming. “But crazy is kind of our thing, isn’t it?”

He laughs again, though it’s still a little shaky. “Yeah, I guess it is.”

There’s a pause as Daniel tries to wrap his head around the fact that you, his new fiancée, just bought one of the most successful teams in Formula 1. He stares at you for a moment longer, then blinks, rubbing his temples like he’s getting a headache. “I … I don’t even know where to start. What does that even mean? You’re gonna be the new team owner?”

“Pretty much,” you say, like it’s no big deal. “And I’m planning to do a bit of restructuring. You know, make some changes, shake things up.”

Daniel gives you a skeptical look. “Restructuring? What kind of changes?”

“Well …” You tap your chin, pretending to think about it. “First of all, I figured I’d ask if there’s anyone you’d like me to keep around. I mean, it’s your engagement gift, after all. I want you to be happy with the team.”

Daniel snorts, shaking his head. “I can’t believe we’re even having this conversation.”

You lean closer, your eyes gleaming mischievously. “And I assume you’ll want me to keep your boyfriend, right?”

Daniel freezes, blinking at you in confusion. “My … boyfriend?”

“Yeah,” you say, deadpan. “Max.”

Daniel nearly chokes. “Wait — what?”

You burst out laughing, unable to keep a straight face any longer. “I’m talking about Max Verstappen! Don’t act so surprised.”

Daniel’s face flushes a deep red, and he shakes his head, exasperated. “We’re not — he’s not my — Jesus, you’re impossible.”

You pat his head, still laughing. “Sure, he’s not. Whatever you say.”

Daniel groans, covering his face with his hands. “Oh my God.”

You sit back, grinning at him. “So, do you want me to keep him or not?”

He lowers his hands, shooting you a look that’s half amused, half irritated. “Obviously, you keep him. He’s the best driver on the grid.”

You nod, pretending to jot down notes in the air. “Okay, so keep Max. Got it.”

Daniel leans back against the couch, staring at you like he still can’t believe this is real. “I can’t believe you just bought a Formula 1 team.”

“I can’t believe I didn’t think of it sooner,” you say with a grin.

Daniel laughs, though it’s tinged with disbelief. “And you’re just … going to be the boss now?”

You shrug. “Why not? It’s not like I haven’t run a business before. Plus, how hard can it be to manage a Formula 1 team?”

He raises an eyebrow at you. “You do realize you’ll be dealing with, like, a whole bunch of egos and drama, right? It’s not just about racing. There’s politics, sponsorships, technical regulations …”

You wave a hand dismissively. “Details, details. I’ll figure it out.”

Daniel shakes his head, still grinning. “You’re unbelievable.”

“And that’s why you like me,” you quip, flashing him a playful wink.

Daniel’s smile softens, and for a moment, there’s a flicker of something in his eyes that you can’t quite place. But then he shakes his head again, chuckling. “Yeah, something like that.”

The two of you fall into a comfortable silence, and Daniel’s gaze drifts back to the ring box still sitting on the coffee table between you. It feels surreal — like the last few days have been one long, crazy dream that neither of you can wake up from. But somehow, despite all the madness, there’s a strange sense of peace settling over the room.

Finally, Daniel breaks the silence with a quiet laugh. “So … when do you get to meet the team?”

You grin. “Soon enough. I’ll introduce you as my fiancé. It’ll be fun to see the look on everyone’s faces.”

Daniel snorts, shaking his head. “Yeah, I’m sure that’ll go over well.”

“Oh, come on,” you tease. “You’ll love it. Don’t you like being the center of attention?”

He shoots you a playful glare. “I’m starting to regret this engagement.”

You laugh, leaning back into the couch. “Too late. You’re stuck with me now.”

Daniel chuckles, but there’s a warmth in his eyes as he looks at you. “Yeah, I guess I am.”

***

You and Daniel are curled up together on the plush couch, nestled under a thick blanket, a pint of ice cream balanced between the two of you. The glow of the TV flickers across the room as Crazy Rich Asians plays in the background, the glamorous scenes of Singapore flashing on the screen. You scoop a spoonful of ice cream and pop it into your mouth, your eyes glued to the over-the-top depiction of high society that, to you, feels more like a parody than reality.

“I mean, come on,” you mutter around a mouthful of ice cream, shaking your head. “That’s not how any of this works.”

Daniel glances at you, one eyebrow raised in amusement. “What do you mean? It looks pretty fancy to me.”

You roll your eyes, waving your spoon toward the screen. “Yeah, because all of us crazy rich Asians are just constantly jetting off to private islands in the middle of the week. And, of course, we throw dramatic, lavish parties for every minor inconvenience.”

Daniel grins, leaning back against the couch as he scoops up some ice cream. “I dunno, the whole secret wedding dress thing seemed pretty realistic to me.”

You nudge him playfully with your elbow, laughing. “Please. If anything, that’s understated.”

Daniel chuckles, shaking his head. “Alright, alright, so maybe Hollywood doesn’t exactly nail the rich lifestyle. But it’s entertaining.”

“Entertaining?” You snort, raising an eyebrow. “It’s borderline satire. Half the time, I’m watching these movies like, ‘Are you serious? Who even does that?’”

Daniel laughs again, clearly enjoying your commentary more than the actual movie. “Okay, but admit it, the wedding scene was pretty epic.”

You sigh dramatically. “Fine, I’ll give them that one. The water running down the aisle was a nice touch.”

“See? Even you have to admit there’s some good stuff in there,” Daniel says with a grin, licking his spoon.

You lean back against the couch, settling more comfortably into Daniel’s side as the movie continues to play. The ice cream between you starts to melt slightly, but neither of you seem to care, too caught up in the comfort of the moment. Your head rests on Daniel’s shoulder, and his arm is loosely draped around you.

There’s a comfortable silence between you two for a few minutes, the movie providing a soft background noise as you both watch absently. Then, without looking away from the screen, you break the silence with a casual question.

“Hey, so … do you want to drive for Red Bull next year?”

The question seems to catch Daniel off guard. His hand, mid-way to another scoop of ice cream, freezes in the air. He turns his head slightly to look at you, eyebrows furrowed in thought. He doesn’t say anything at first, and the silence stretches out long enough for you to glance up at him, wondering why he’s taking so long to respond.

“Daniel?” You prompt softly.

He pauses the movie, the room suddenly quiet without the chatter of characters and dramatic music. His face is serious now, a stark contrast to the playful mood from moments before. He places the spoon down in the pint and leans back, exhaling a long breath.

“I don’t know,” he finally says, his voice soft, almost hesitant.

You blink at him, confused. “You don’t know? What do you mean?”

Daniel rubs a hand over his face, looking down at his lap as if the answer is written there somewhere. “I mean, I don’t know if … if I deserve it. That seat.”

There’s a heavy pause as you process his words. The casualness of the evening suddenly feels distant, replaced by something more serious, more vulnerable. You turn slightly, facing him more directly now, your hand reaching out to rest on his knee.

“Why would you say that?” You ask, your voice quiet but firm.

Daniel looks up at you, his expression pained. “I’ve been dropped twice now. McLaren, VCARB … And, honestly, I didn’t do as well as I wanted. As well as they wanted. What if I’m just not cut out for it anymore? Maybe the sport’s moved on, and I haven’t.”

You frown, shaking your head in disbelief. “That’s not true. You’re still an incredible driver.”

Daniel lets out a bitter laugh, though there’s no humor in it. “Incredible? You’ve seen the results. I’m nowhere near where I used to be. And Max? He’s on another level. It’s his team now.”

“Okay, first of all,” you say, your tone shifting into something more assertive, “don’t compare yourself to Max. You’re both amazing in your own ways. And second, this isn’t about what they want, Daniel. It’s about what you want.”

Daniel doesn’t respond right away. He just stares at the frozen image on the TV screen, lost in his thoughts. His jaw is tense, and you can tell he’s grappling with something deeper, something that’s been weighing on him for a long time.

You squeeze his knee gently, your voice softening. “You’ve still got it, Daniel. I know you do. And so does everyone else.”

He glances at you, his eyes searching your face like he’s trying to find some kind of reassurance in your words. “But what if … what if I can’t get back to where I was? What if I’m just holding onto something that’s not there anymore?”

“You’re not,” you say firmly, not missing a beat. “You’ve had a rough few seasons, sure. But that doesn’t mean you’ve lost it. It just means you’ve had setbacks. And if anyone knows how to bounce back, it’s you.”

Daniel still looks unsure, and you can tell there’s a part of him that’s scared — scared of failing again, scared of not living up to the expectations that have been placed on him, both by himself and by others.

You lean in closer, your voice gentle but insistent. “Daniel, you’re one of the best drivers in the world. You’ve proved that time and time again. Red Bull wouldn’t have taken you back if they didn’t believe in you. And I wouldn’t have bought the damn team if I didn’t believe in you either.”

A small smile tugs at the corner of Daniel’s lips at that, though it’s fleeting. He runs a hand through his hair, exhaling deeply. “I just … I don’t know if I’m ready to go back. I don’t know if I can handle it if things go wrong again.”

You nod slowly, understanding the fear behind his words. It’s not just about driving. It’s about the pressure, the weight of expectation, the fear of failure.

“I get that,” you say softly. “But you can’t let fear stop you from doing what you love. You’ve been through a lot, I know. But that doesn’t mean it’s over. You have so much more left to give. And I’ll be there with you, every step of the way.”

Daniel meets your gaze, his eyes softening at your words. For a moment, the vulnerability in his expression is raw, unguarded. Then he reaches out, taking your hand in his, giving it a small squeeze.

“You really think I can do it?” He asks quietly.

You smile, squeezing his hand back. “I know you can.”

Daniel lets out a slow breath, his shoulders relaxing slightly as some of the tension seems to drain from him. He looks at you for a long moment, then nods, as if finally coming to terms with something inside himself.

“Alright,” he says, his voice a little steadier now. “I’ll think about it.”

“That’s all I’m asking,” you say with a soft smile.

He leans back into the couch, and you both settle into a comfortable silence again, the tension from earlier slowly fading away. You reach for the remote and unpause the movie, but neither of you are really paying attention to it anymore. Instead, you both sit there, sharing the ice cream, the weight of the conversation lingering in the air but somehow lighter now.

***

The evening is quiet, the city’s hum muted behind the large windows of your penthouse. The movie’s credits are rolling, but neither you nor Daniel has made a move to turn off the TV. Instead, you both sit there, wrapped up in the soft blanket, the nearly empty pint of ice cream abandoned on the coffee table. There’s a sense of calm in the air, but underneath it, you can feel something unspoken, simmering just below the surface.

You glance at Daniel, who’s leaning back into the couch, his gaze distant. He’s still processing, you can tell — about Red Bull, about everything that’s been thrown at him lately. The weight of it all seems heavier in the silence.

After a long moment, you shift slightly, turning your body to face him more directly. “Daniel,” you say softly, your voice breaking the quiet.

He blinks, coming back to the present, and looks at you with a small, tired smile. “Yeah?”

“You’ve said something a lot that I keep thinking about,” you begin, carefully choosing your words. “The whole ‘enjoy the butterflies’ thing. I’ve heard you say it in interviews, but I don’t think I ever really understood what you meant by it.”

Daniel’s smile falters a bit, and he looks away, his expression growing thoughtful. He doesn’t say anything at first, and you can see he’s retreating into his thoughts again, the way he does when he’s trying to figure out how to articulate something that matters to him.

You reach out, placing a hand gently on his arm, coaxing him back to the conversation. “What does it really mean to you? Enjoy the butterflies?”

Daniel takes a deep breath, his fingers fiddling with the edge of the blanket. “It’s … it’s kinda hard to explain,” he says slowly, his accent thicker when he’s being reflective. “It’s not just about racing, you know? It’s more about the feeling — the nerves, the excitement, the anticipation. All those little moments that make your stomach flip.”

He pauses, glancing at you as if gauging whether you’re following. You nod, encouraging him to continue.

“I think,” he says, his voice quieter now, “for the longest time, I used to hate that feeling. The butterflies. It always made me feel … unsure. Like, am I good enough? Am I ready? Every time I’d get in the car, no matter how many times I’d done it before, I’d still feel that little twinge of anxiety. And for a while, I thought it was a bad thing.”

You listen intently, your eyes never leaving his face as he speaks. There’s something raw and real in his words, a vulnerability that you don’t often see in him.

“But then, I don’t know,” he continues, “at some point, I started to see it differently. Like, maybe those butterflies aren’t a sign of weakness. Maybe they’re a sign that you’re doing something that matters. That you’re alive. That you care.”

You nod slowly, your hand still resting on his arm. “That makes sense.”

Daniel meets your gaze again, his eyes softening. “Yeah. So now, when I feel the butterflies, I try to embrace it, you know? Instead of fighting it. Because if you’re not nervous, if you don’t feel anything, then what’s the point?”

You lean back slightly, absorbing his words. There’s a quiet wisdom in what he’s saying, a reminder that life’s most meaningful moments are often the ones that scare us the most. You think about how that applies to you — not just in your relationship with Daniel, but in everything. The choices you’ve made, the risks you’ve taken, the moments when you’ve doubted yourself. Maybe those butterflies are a part of the journey, too.

“I get that,” you say softly, nodding. “But … do you still feel them? After all this time?”

Daniel smiles, but it’s tinged with something bittersweet. “Every single time.”

You look at him for a long moment, the weight of his honesty settling between you. There’s something comforting in knowing that even someone like Daniel — someone who’s faced so many high-pressure moments, who’s been at the top of his game — still feels that same uncertainty, that same flutter of nerves.

“But now,” he adds, his voice softening even more, “I think the butterflies aren’t just about fear. They’re about excitement, too. Like, yeah, maybe I’m nervous, but I’m also excited because it means I still care. I still love what I do, even when it’s hard.”

You smile gently, your hand giving his arm a reassuring squeeze. “That’s beautiful, Daniel. Really.”

He chuckles lightly, looking almost embarrassed by the compliment. “I don’t know about beautiful, but it helps me get through the tough days.”

There’s a pause, and you can feel the conversation shifting into something deeper, something more personal. You take a breath, feeling the moment settling between you like a quiet pulse.

“Do you ever get tired of it, though?” You ask, your voice barely above a whisper. “The butterflies, the pressure, the weight of it all?”

Daniel tilts his head back against the couch, staring up at the ceiling. He doesn’t answer right away, but when he does, his voice is tinged with a kind of quiet resignation. “Yeah. Sometimes. Sometimes it feels like too much, like it’s all building up and I just … don’t know how to keep going.”

His words hit you harder than you expected, and for a moment, you’re not sure how to respond. You’ve seen Daniel at his best, but you’ve also seen him at his lowest. The moments when he’s struggled, when he’s doubted himself. And yet, through it all, he’s always managed to push through. To keep going.

“But,” he continues after a beat, his voice soft but steady, “those moments don’t last forever. And when they pass, when I’m back in the car, or when I’ve crossed the finish line, it’s like … I remember why I do it. Why I love it.”

You watch him closely, your heart swelling with both admiration and empathy. “You’re stronger than you think, Daniel.”

He glances at you, a small smile tugging at the corner of his lips. “Maybe. Or maybe I’m just stubborn.”

You laugh softly, shaking your head. “I think it’s a little bit of both.”

Daniel grins at that, the tension in his shoulders easing slightly. He shifts on the couch, turning more toward you, his hand reaching out to gently tuck a strand of hair behind your ear. There’s a softness in his touch, a quiet intimacy that makes your heart skip a beat.

“You know,” he says quietly, “you’ve got your own butterflies too. I’ve seen them.”

You raise an eyebrow, slightly surprised. “Oh, really?”

Daniel nods, his eyes locking onto yours. “Yeah. Whenever you’re about to make a big decision or when something’s stressing you out. You get this look in your eyes, like you’re bracing yourself for something.”

You blink, taken aback by his observation. “I didn’t realize you noticed.”

He smiles gently. “I notice a lot about you.”

The room falls into a comfortable silence again, the weight of the conversation hanging in the air like a shared secret. You can feel your heart beating a little faster, the warmth of Daniel’s words wrapping around you like a blanket.

“Do you ever wish the butterflies would go away?” You ask after a moment, your voice soft.

Daniel shakes his head slowly. “No. I don’t think I do. Because if they did, that would mean I’ve stopped caring. And I don’t ever want to stop caring.”

You nod, understanding now in a way you didn’t before. The butterflies aren’t something to fear — they’re a reminder that you’re alive, that you’re still passionate, that you’re still fighting for what matters.

You smile softly, leaning in closer to him. “I think I’ll try to enjoy the butterflies a little more.”

Daniel smiles back, his hand gently resting on your cheek. “Good. You should.”

And for the first time in a long time, you feel a sense of peace settle over you — a quiet understanding that, no matter what happens next, you’ll face it with open hearts and, yes, even a few butterflies.

***

The Red Bull Racing factory is a hive of quiet activity. The entire team, from mechanics to engineers, marketing staff to the senior management, stands gathered in a large meeting room just off the factory floor. Whispers ripple through the crowd, conversations hushed and speculative. It’s unusual to have the entire team assembled like this — especially during the off-season.

But today is different. They’ve been told that the team’s new owner will be making her first official appearance, and no one knows what to expect.

The announcement of Red Bull Racing’s sale had come out of nowhere, a shock to everyone. No one knew who the buyer was, only that it was someone with enough money to pull off the purchase in record time. The rumors had flown, the speculation mounting over the past few weeks, but nothing concrete had leaked. All they knew was that something big was coming. Something — someone — new.

The murmur of voices grows louder as the minutes tick by. Eyes dart toward the doors at the far end of the room, the anticipation palpable. Then, the doors swing open.

You walk in, a vision of confidence, head held high. The noise in the room instantly dies down, replaced by the stunned silence of dozens of pairs of eyes turning in your direction. Beside you, Daniel walks in, his hands casually tucked into his pockets, a familiar but unusual sight for the Red Bull team.

The shock is immediate, rippling through the room like a wave. Everyone stares, first at you, then at Daniel, as if trying to piece together how any of this makes sense. The whispers start up again, but you don’t let it faze you. Instead, you step forward with a wide, almost mischievous smile on your face.

“Good morning, everyone!” You greet them brightly, clapping your hands once, the sound echoing in the room. “I’m sure most of you have heard by now, but allow me to introduce myself formally. I’m your new boss.”

You pause, letting the statement sink in as the team stares at you in stunned silence. “My name is Y/N Y/L/N, and I’m thrilled to be taking over as the owner of Red Bull Racing.”

There’s a beat of silence, the team processing the bombshell, before a smattering of hesitant applause starts. You nod, acknowledging the claps, but there’s still a palpable tension in the room. You know they’re still confused, still reeling from the surprise. You’re not done yet.

“And I have one more introduction to make,” you say, a teasing smile tugging at the corners of your lips. You glance over at Daniel, who’s standing beside you, a little less sure of himself than usual but still flashing that signature Ricciardo smile. “This is my fiancé, Daniel Ricciardo.”

The room gasps. The shock is real this time, murmurs breaking out instantly among the team. Fiancé? Some people turn to each other, others crane their necks to get a better look at Daniel. The whispers intensify, but you continue as if none of it fazes you.

“And I have some exciting news for all of you today,” you say, your voice cutting through the growing chatter. You step forward again, your gaze sweeping across the room. “With the team being restructured, and with Sergio Perez deciding to take some time away from the sport to be with his family …” You pause, letting that hang for a moment, watching the confusion bloom on their faces. “I’m thrilled to announce that Daniel will be returning to Red Bull Racing as a driver next season.”

The room falls completely silent again, a collective intake of breath. For a long moment, no one says a word. Then, as if on cue, someone begins clapping. It’s slow at first, hesitant, but then others join in, and soon the room is filled with applause. The realization starts to settle in.

Daniel Ricciardo — back at Red Bull.

You glance at Daniel, and his eyes meet yours. For a second, you see the flicker of uncertainty in them, the weight of everything hanging in the air. But then, as the applause grows, you see the shift — the spark of confidence returning to him, the slow curve of a genuine smile spreading across his face.

Daniel steps forward, raising a hand to quiet the crowd, but they don’t stop clapping for several more seconds. Finally, the noise dies down enough for him to speak.

“Wow, uh … thanks for that,” Daniel begins, clearly taken aback by the reaction. He rubs the back of his neck, his grin widening as he takes in the faces of the people who, not so long ago, had been his team. “I’ve gotta admit, it feels pretty good to be standing here again.”

A few people in the crowd chuckle, a ripple of warmth spreading through the room.

“I know it’s been a strange few years,” Daniel continues, his voice more serious now. “There were times when I wasn’t sure if I’d ever get back to this place. But when Y/N came into my life, well, let’s just say she’s good at making the impossible happen.” He glances at you, his eyes filled with a mixture of admiration and affection, and you feel your heart flutter in response.

The room watches this exchange, enraptured. There’s something surreal about seeing Daniel Ricciardo, a former Red Bull driver, now standing next to the team’s new owner — his fiancée, no less. It’s a lot for them to process.

Daniel turns back to the team, his expression softening as he addresses them. “This place has always been special to me,” he says quietly. “I’ve had some of my best moments in my career here, and I’m so grateful for the chance to come back and create more memories with you all. I know it’s not going to be easy, and I’ve got a lot to prove. But I’m ready. I’m ready to give everything I’ve got.”

The room bursts into applause again, louder this time, more genuine. The team members seem to be warming up to the idea now, their initial shock replaced by excitement. A few of the senior engineers, who had been with the team during Daniel’s previous stint, exchange nods of approval. There’s a growing sense of anticipation, the mood in the room shifting.

You watch Daniel as he steps back, the energy of the moment clearly lifting him. He catches your eye again, and for a brief moment, it feels like it’s just the two of you in the room. His smile is softer now, more private, meant just for you. You feel a surge of warmth, the bond between you solidifying even more in this shared experience.

Then, clearing your throat, you step forward again, reclaiming the attention of the room. “Now, I know this is a lot to take in,” you say, your tone playful. “But don’t worry. Daniel and I aren’t here to shake things up too much … unless we need to.” A few chuckles ripple through the room at that. “We’re committed to making sure this team remains at the top of the sport. And we’re going to do whatever it takes to get there.”

The applause comes again, more enthusiastic this time. You can feel the room shifting from shock to acceptance, and even a little excitement. The Red Bull team is known for its resilience, for thriving in the face of challenges, and this is no different.

As the clapping fades, one of the senior team members — a man with graying hair and a knowing smile — steps forward. He glances between you and Daniel, then says, “Well, if Daniel’s back, I guess we better start preparing for some shoeys.”

The room bursts into laughter, and even Daniel can’t help but laugh along with them, shaking his head. “You better believe it,” he says with a grin.

Slowly, the group begins to disperse, people heading back to their workstations, some still murmuring excitedly about the news. You catch snippets of conversation — mentions of Daniel’s return, your surprising entrance, and speculation about what’s next for the team.

As the room clears, Daniel turns to you, his expression soft. “You’re really something, you know that?”

You smile at him, feeling the weight of the moment settle around you. “It’s just the beginning,” you say, your voice filled with determination. “We’ve got a lot of work ahead of us.”

Daniel grins, reaching for your hand. “Yeah, but I think we’re gonna be just fine.”

You squeeze his hand, your heart swelling with excitement and love. Together, you’ve just taken the first step into a new chapter — one filled with challenges, risks, and plenty of butterflies. But you know, with Daniel by your side, there’s nothing you can’t handle.

And as you leave the factory hand in hand, the future stretches out before you — unknown, thrilling, and entirely yours to shape.

***

The roars from the Melbourne crowd reverberate through the air as the final lap of the Australian Grand Prix begins. The cameras lock onto Daniel’s Red Bull, the #3 flashing as it leads the pack by several seconds. The circuit is electric, and the commentators can barely contain themselves.

“Here we are on the final lap,” David Croft’s voice crackles through the Sky Sports broadcast, almost trembling with excitement. “Daniel Ricciardo, the hometown hero, is this close to claiming his ninth career win — and his first ever win here in Australia. You can hear the crowd, the energy in the air — it’s absolutely incredible!”

Beside him, Martin Brundle jumps in, his tone equal parts admiration and disbelief. “This is what the fans have been waiting for, for years. After everything Daniel’s been through — leaving Red Bull, bouncing between teams, and now back with Red Bull and at the front of the grid — this will be a monumental moment, not just for Daniel, but for every Australian who’s dreamed of seeing him on the top step here.”

The camera flickers briefly to the Red Bull garage. You’re standing at the front, practically on your toes as you watch the live feed with bated breath, every nerve in your body tense with anticipation. You’re surrounded by engineers, mechanics, and team members, but it’s clear that all eyes in the garage are on you. The new team owner, the mastermind behind Daniel’s return to the team. And now, you’re witnessing the culmination of it all.

“Look at that,” Brundle says as the camera focuses on you. “There’s Daniel’s fiancée and the new team owner, Y/N Y/L/N. You’ve got to imagine what this moment means for her too, after buying the team and making the bold decision to bring Daniel back. She’s been nothing short of instrumental in this comeback.”

Crofty’s voice grows louder as Daniel approaches the final few corners. “And here he comes now, through Turn 13, a perfect line through there — keeping it clean. The crowd is going wild, and you can see why! He’s a few corners away from victory, from making history on home soil.”

As the camera switches back to the track, Daniel’s race engineer comes over the radio, his voice steady but filled with excitement.

“Alright, mate. Just bring it home now. One more corner. You’ve got this.”

There’s a brief pause before Daniel’s reply crackles over the airwaves, his voice barely containing his elation. “I’ve got it, mate! I’ve bloody got it!”

The Red Bull flies around the final corner, the engine roaring, and Daniel rockets down the straight toward the checkered flag. The crowd’s roar is deafening as he crosses the line.

“And there it is! Daniel Ricciardo wins the Australian Grand Prix!” Crofty yells, his voice barely audible over the roaring fans. “His ninth career win — and what a win it is! His first win here in Australia, and you can just feel how much this means to him and the crowd!”

The camera immediately cuts back to you, your face a mixture of disbelief and overwhelming joy. You’re laughing, hands clasped over your mouth as the enormity of the moment sinks in. The entire Red Bull garage erupts into cheers, people hugging and high-fiving all around you, but you’re frozen for a moment, just soaking in the euphoria of the victory.

“Look at her reaction!” Brundle says with a chuckle. “You can tell just how much this moment means to the team owner. It’s not just a win for Daniel — it’s a win for them. What a partnership!”

The scene cuts to Daniel inside the cockpit, raising his fists in victory as he slows the car on the cool-down lap. His voice comes over the radio again, almost breathless.

“YEEEEES! Let’s go! Oh my god, we did it! We actually did it!” Daniel shouts, his voice cracking with emotion.

“Mate, you’re a race winner in Australia!” His race engineer’s voice is filled with pride. “Take it in, soak it all in. This is your moment.”

“I’ve waited so long for this …” Daniel’s voice is quieter now, more introspective. “Thank you, everyone. This is unbelievable.”

As he makes his way around the track on the cool-down lap, the camera follows him, showing the thousands of fans on their feet, waving Australian flags and cheering for their hero. It’s an emotional scene, the kind that will go down in F1 history. The commentators fall silent for a moment, letting the raw emotion of the moment speak for itself.

Finally, Crofty breaks the silence. “Daniel Ricciardo has just made history. He’s become the first Australian driver to win here in Melbourne in front of his home crowd, and you can just see how much this means — not just to him, but to every fan in the stands.”

Daniel pulls into parc fermé, his car screeching to a halt under the massive “P1” sign. The mechanics are already leaning over the barriers, waiting for him, their arms raised in celebration. Daniel clambers out of the car, pulls off his helmet, and lets out a roar, his signature grin plastered on his face. The crowd erupts once more, their hero standing victorious before them.

The Red Bull team surrounds him, cheering and patting him on the back. But Daniel's eyes are searching, scanning the pit lane for you. Finally, they find you in the crowd, and without hesitation, he breaks away from the chaos and runs straight to you.

“Hey, boss,” he says, pulling you into a tight hug, his voice barely above the roar of the fans. “Did I do alright?”

You laugh, pushing him back playfully. “I’d say you did more than alright.”

Daniel grins, his smile wide and genuine, and then he’s swept back into the celebrations, the team lifting him onto their shoulders as the cameras capture every second.

The podium celebrations come next, the lights glittering, the trophy standing proud. Daniel, Max Verstappen, and Charles Leclerc climb onto the podium, their faces reflecting the joy and exhaustion of a hard-fought race. The national anthems play, first for Australia, then for Austria, and the crowd sings along, their pride and passion tangible.

When the champagne is finally handed out, Daniel holds his bottle aloft, savoring the moment. He walks to the edge of the podium, holding his finger up to signal the crowd. The fans know what’s coming. The mechanics in the garage know what’s coming. You, standing just below the podium, know what’s coming.

Daniel unlaces his boot and fills it with champagne, holding it high as he looks out over the sea of fans. The crowd roars with approval.

“Oh no …” Brundle says with a laugh, watching from the Sky Sports commentary booth. “Here we go. It wouldn’t be a Daniel Ricciardo victory without a shoey!”

Daniel grins and, with the flair only he can pull off, drinks the champagne from his shoe. The crowd cheers louder than ever, reveling in the chaotic joy of the moment. Even Max, standing beside him, cracks a smile as Daniel offers him the boot, but Max declines with a laugh, shaking his head.

As Daniel finishes the shoey, he looks down at you with a cheeky grin. He points the boot in your direction, his eyes twinkling.

“Wanna join in?” He shouts down, loud enough for the camera to catch.

You cross your arms, shaking your head with a smirk. “Absolutely not.”

Daniel laughs, tossing the boot aside and grabbing the champagne again, spraying the crowd as the podium celebration continues. The cameras capture everything, the joy, the fun, the relief of a long journey finally reaching its pinnacle.

Back in the commentary booth, Crofty speaks again, his voice soft but filled with admiration. “Daniel Ricciardo, a winner in Australia, celebrating in true Ricciardo style. This win means more than just points on the board — it’s the result of hard work, perseverance, and a love for racing.”

Brundle nods, his tone warm. “You’ve got to hand it to Daniel, and to Y/N Y/L/N as well. She brought him back to Red Bull, believed in him when others didn’t, and now they’re celebrating together on the biggest stage. It’s a fairytale moment.”

As the champagne rains down on the podium, Daniel glances over at you again, his face still lit up with that signature Ricciardo grin. And even though you’re not up there with him, he knows that none of this would’ve been possible without you by his side.

This is your team, your driver, and your moment.

[5sospenguinqueen]

Bedtime Stories | Daniel Ricciardo x Author! Reader

Summary: For the past six years, you've been dreaming of a future with Daniel. Until one silly little interview shatters every illusion.

Warnings: Swearing. Angst. Baby fever. End of a relationship. Daniel bashing.

Female reader with various faceclaims. Takes place in the 2022 season.

Main Masterlist

next.

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user2 no, it's not an announcement. her best friend is currently pregnant and she was gushing about looking forward to aunty duties

user3 omg her and daniel would make the cutest babies though

→ user4 i bet she can't wait until they have their own mini-me

user5 imagine our rom-com queen going from writing the cutest but filthiest fiction imaginable to writing about why you should eat your carrots

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22•05•22

user6 i can't believe this man was talking about being in the height of his career when he's been nothing but a flop since leaving red bull

user7 the way he's been stringing this poor woman along for 6 years, knowing how badly she wants children, to then decide in a random interview that he's never going to have kids because they would be a 'distraction'

user8 fans spotted y/n running from the pits once she saw that daniel was safely done with racing

user9 i fear we may be witnessing the downfall of something we once held sacred

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16•06•22

fallontonight just posted

liked by YourUserName, kellypiquet and others

fallontonight did you know @/YourUser Name was once chased by a kangaroo? find out how in tonight's episode of the tonight show 📚🦘

4,477 comments

YourUserName thanks for having me! ✨

user11 excuse me, ma’am, reassess what

user12 daniel has been absent from her last 3 posts

→ user1 not even in the likes or comments

→ user2 and he didn't even congratulate her on the recent book launch

→ user3 ya’ll are reaching. he's busy racing. she's busy doing book promo. they still follow each other

user4 anyone notice she didn't look as happy as she usually does

→ user5 yes! and i swear she got teary when talking about her life plans 🥺

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YourUserName just posted

liked by maxverstappen1, mclaren and others

YourUserName my happy place 🌊🐚🦀 aug '22

4,990 comments

user6 does this mean a new book is coming soon

→ user7 girl, we’ve just had one. let the woman rest

→ YourUserName sorry, my lovelies but i don’t think i'm in the right headspace to be writing a romance novel at this time

→ user6 confirmation??!?!

→ user7 we’re children of divorce

→ user8 honestly fuck those two because i couldn’t have cared less about vroom vroom boys until mother started dating one and now i'm crying in class ‘cause they’re over

landonorris get that bread, queen 🍞

→ YourUserName who let you out of daycare

→ user9 not y/n and lando interacting like she didn’t break his teammates heart

→ user10 more like his teammate broke y/n’s heart. let's not make daniel out to be the victim here

kellypiquet p said get writing those children’s books so she can brag about aunty y/n to her friends

→ YourUserName my sweet girl. i saw the cutest dress the other day for her so I’ll pop round soon x

→ user11 i love their friendship

→ user12 get this woman a child. She’s too sweet to be stuck in cool aunt mode forever

user13 anyone notice she didn't do her annual birthday post for daniel?

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04•09•22

user14 no because the interviewer was so real for that. checo has a few children and he’s currently 2nd best. max is nowhere to be seen on the grid he's that far ahead and he makes sure p is his priority when she’s there so???

→ user15 and the way he stormed out. i bet PR are sooo happy with him

user16 nah because mclaren recently announced that they’re not extending his contract so he currently doesn't have his seat and doesn't have his y/n, all because he thought he was better than that

YourUserName posted a new story danielricciardo posted a new story

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danielricciardo just posted

liked by landonorris, estebanocon and others

danielricciardo yesterday was something. p17 wasn't the result we were expecting, and the media were a challenge but it's always a delight to be in suzuka. moving on to the americas

5,509 comments

user1maybe if y/n was there, you wouldn't have done so badly

user2 maybe if he had a baby waiting in the paddock he would’ve had more incentive to do better

mclaren we’ll get them next time 💪

user3 letting mclaren and lando down

→ user4 the real reason he and y/n broke up is because he has no wins. she should move onto lando or something

→ user5 he’s way too young for her

→ user4 they'd make a good looking couple tho

(comments have been disabled for this post)

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19•10•22

YourUserName just posted

liked by charles_leclerc, bloomsburypublishing and others

YourUserName thirty, flirty and thriving. please enjoy a small snippet of my 30th birthday, organised by my favourite girl. these are the nice moments before she plies me full of cocktails and i become the sloppiest person in monaco tagged: kellypiquet

kellypiquet any chance to celebrate you 🤍🤍

→ kellypiquet and an even better chance to drink the entire bar and force max to carry us home

→ maxverstappen1 i'm just glad i was able to pull you both out of the sea before you drowned

landonorris can't believe you tried (and failed) to stop us from gatecrashing

→ YourUserName it was an exclusive event, we don't let randos in

→ landonorris i know you're joking but it still hurts my feelings

maxverstappen1 happy birthday, sloppy. you don't look a day over 40

→ YourUserName i'm gonna let that slide but only because i love the bag that kelly told you to buy

user7 happy birthday to the best author

user8 happy birthday queen

carlossainz55 happy birthday, y/n 💐

liked by YourUserName

danielricciardo happy birthday x

user5 kelly and y/n look like the funnest people to hang out with

→ user6 literally need to know how to become part of their duo

lewishamilton happy birthday, y/n. have a lovely night 💕

liked by YourUserName

mclaren happy birthday to papaya's favourite author (we're still waiting for a racing rom-com that is quite clearly about your favourite f1 team and their super sexy admin) 🥳🥳

liked by YourUserName

Request are open!

Baby Fever Angst Series

[thef1diary]

Oops, it's getting late and I had an overactive brain. Mafia!danny in which he fucks the lawyer prosecuting him 🤭🤭🤭

Live, laugh, lobster

-🦞

— nonnie gimme more of your overactive brain plz cuz as a future lawyer…yeah this got me 😵‍💫😩 18+ content below

Daniel wasn’t the type of man to beg. He wasn’t the type of man to answer to authority, either. He was the authority. So, he sure as hell wasn’t going to let some prosecutor ruin everything he’d built. He was untouchable—or at least, he had been until you came along.

The moment he stepped into your office, he had every intention of scaring you into making you drop the charges against him. A little intimidation, a few well-placed threats, maybe even a bullet left in your desk drawer for good measure.

But then he saw you.

And fuck, that changed everything.

You weren’t some grizzled old prosecutor who’d spent years clawing their way through the legal system. No, you were young, yet carrying yourself like you belonged here. You were all sharp edges and tailored perfection, your blouse tucked neatly into a fitted skirt that hugged your curves in a way that had no business distracting him.

“You’ve got some nerve,” he drawled, standing by the door, smirking. “Charging me for half a dozen crimes? You must have a death wish.”

Your head shot up from the contract you were meticulously reviewing, eyes narrowing the moment they landed on him. The weight of his presence filled the room instantly—too tall, too broad, too confident, leaning against the doorframe like he owned the damn place. Your fingers tightened around the pen in your hand, but you didn’t flinch, didn’t waver. Instead, you leaned back in your chair, crossing one leg over the other as you met his gaze with an unwavering stare, your voice cool and precise when you finally spoke.

“And you must also have a death wish, walking into a prosecutor’s office like you belong here.”

His grin widened, stepping further inside and shutting the door behind him. The click of the lock made something sharp curl in your stomach.

He stood in front of you as if he’d already won. Like he wasn’t moments away from going on trial.

You had spent weeks gathering evidence against him. Witnesses were silenced. Paper trails were scrubbed clean. But you were relentless. You had worked too hard to let a man like him slip through the cracks.

Daniel tilted his head, eyes dragging over you in a way that sent a shiver down your spine. He wasn’t looking at you like a man about to be convicted. He was looking at you like a man assessing his next target.

“I should have known they’d send a pretty little thing like you after me,” he mused, voice thick with amusement. “Smart. Dangerous.”

You crossed your arms, keeping your expression neutral. “Mr. Ricciardo, unless you’re here to turn yourself in, I suggest you leave before I call security.”

He shook his head, an amused expression on his face. “C’mon, sweetheart,” he drawled, voice slow and thick. “We both know security ain’t comin’ in here. And if they did? You think they’d get me out before I put a bullet in that pretty little head of yours?”

You swallowed but didn’t back down. “So you are here to threaten me.”

Daniel sighed dramatically, striding closer towards you with a lazy confidence. “Was gonna. Had a whole plan, too. But then…” He let his gaze drag over you, slow and deliberate, lingering on the curve of your hips, the way your blouse stretched over your chest.

Your skin prickled, heat curling low in your belly.

“Then what?” you pressed, forcing your voice to stay even.

His grin widened. “Then I saw you. And now I’m thinkin’ I’d rather fuck you than kill you.”

A sharp laugh left your lips, and Daniel raised an eyebrow.

“You think I’d ever let that happen?” you scoffed.

He chuckled. “Oh, darlin’… you’re gonna let it happen.”

You knew you should’ve been scared. You should’ve been reaching for your phone, pressing the emergency button under your desk. But instead, heat pooled between your legs, your breath quickening.

You tilted your chin up defiantly. “You really think I’d ruin my career for some lowlife criminal?”

“Lowlife? Wow, sweetheart, you wound me,” he spoke with a hand held over his heart. “But no, I’m not telling you to ruin your career.”

“Then what do you want?”

“I came here to make a deal.”

You raised an eyebrow. “A deal?”

His smirk widened. “Yeah. I’m gonna fuck your pretty little pussy and you’ll drop the case.” Another step forward. “And in return…” His fingers grazed the edge of your desk. “I won't make you disappear.”

Your pulse spiked, but you held his gaze, refusing to let him see even a sliver of fear. “Is that supposed to scare me?”

Daniel exhaled sharply, shaking his head like he was disappointed. “See, that’s the problem with women like you. Think you’re untouchable.” His fingers suddenly wrapped around your wrist, dragging you up until you were nearly chest-to-chest. “You aren’t.”

You gasped, but before you could wrench free, his other hand slid up your throat—not squeezing, just holding—forcing you to meet his gaze.

“You’re shaking, sweetheart.” His lips curled. “Maybe you are scared.”

You swallowed, refusing to give in. “And maybe you want me to be.”

Daniel’s grin darkened, his grip tightening just enough to make you swallow hard. His thumb brushed along your jaw, the touch deceptively gentle.

“You got a real mouth on you,” he mused, tilting his head. “I like that.”

Your pulse hammered in your throat, but you refused to let him see the effect he had on you. He smelled like expensive cologne and smoke, like sin itself, and every nerve in your body was telling you to push him away—to fight back, to remind him that you were in control here. But control felt like a slippery thing when he was this close, when his heat sank into your skin and his gaze made you feel like prey.

You forced yourself to smirk. “And you’ve got a real problem with authority,” you countered, voice steady. “I suppose that’s why we’re here.”

“You want this,” he murmured. “I can see how tense you are. All that fight, all that righteous bullshit you spew in court—deep down, you want a man like me to ruin you.”

Your cheeks burned, but you gritted your teeth. “Go to hell.”

Daniel just laughed. “Darlin’, I’m already there. Might as well make myself comfortable.”

You should have pushed him away. You should have fought.

Instead, you clenched your thighs together.

Daniel smirked. “I definitely like knowing you’re wet right now.”

Your breath hitched. “Fuck you.”

“Oh, sweetheart,” he purred. “That’s exactly what I plan to do.”

“I should throw you in a cell for this,” you hissed.

“Only if you’re there. Naked.”

Then he spun you around and bent you over your desk. Papers scattered to the floor, forgotten.

With one swift motion, he flipped your skirt up over your hips, exposing the soft lace of your panties. He groaned low in his throat, his fingers teasing the thin fabric.

“Fuckin’ hell,” he murmured. “Never thought I’d say this about a prosecutor, but I think I just found somethin’ worth keeping.”

You tensed as his fingers pushed aside your panties, running through your folds with lazy confidence.

“You’re wet,” he taunted. “Bet you’re ashamed of that, huh? Gettin’ off on being bent over your own desk by the man you’re tryin’ to lock up?”

“Shut up,” you hissed, but your body betrayed you, hips shifting against his touch.

Daniel chuckled darkly, unbuckling his belt with one hand, the clink of metal making your stomach flip. He didn’t waste time—he yanked his cock free, lining himself up and pressing the thick head against your pussy.

“Fuck,” he groaned. “This is gonna be fun.”

“D-Daniel—”

“Shhh,” he cooed, sliding his cock through your folds. “I don’t have time for your little power trip, baby. I have court soon, remember?”

You tried to push up, but his hand held your throat from behind, keeping you exactly where he wanted you.

“Go on,” he murmured, teasing your pussy. “Tell me to stop.”

Your pride screamed at you to fight. To tell him to get the fuck off you.

But instead—

“Don’t stop.”

Daniel groaned, “that’s my girl.”

With one brutal thrust, he buried himself inside you, stretching you open around his thick cock. A strangled moan escaped your lips, your nails clawing at the wooden surface of your desk.

“God, you feel fuckin’ perfect,” he growled, setting a ruthless pace. “Takin’ me so well for someone who hates my guts.”

Your walls clenched around him, and he grinned. “Oh, you like that,” he mused. “Bet no one’s ever fucked you like this before. Not one of those uptight lawyers you work with.”

You bit your lip, refusing to give him the satisfaction of an answer.

Daniel wasn’t having that. He tangled a hand in your hair, yanking your head back so his lips were right against your ear.

“Say it,” he ordered. “Tell me no one’s ever fucked you like this.”

A shudder wracked through you. “No one’s—” You cut yourself off with a whimper when he thrust particularly deep, brushing against that spot that made your vision blur.

“That’s what I thought,” he purred.

His free hand slid down your front, fingers finding your clit and circling it roughly. Your body tightened, the pleasure too much, too fast.

“I should be pissed at you,” he stated, bringing his palm back before slapping your ass, jolting you harshly towards his fingers on your clit. “You’ve been making my life real difficult, baby.”

Tears welled up in your eyes due to the sudden pleasure, and you moaned loudly, forgetting about where you were.

Daniel continued his relentless torment on your cunt while smacking your ass every now and then. “But I’m a reasonable man. I’m willing to forgive.”

“Please—” a moan tore from your lips, cutting your sentence.

“Gonna come for me, prosecutor?” he taunted. “Come all over the cock of the man you’re tryin’ to put in prison?”

Your body betrayed you. The orgasm hit you like a violent wave, stealing the air from your lungs as you clenched around him. Daniel cursed, his pace stuttering as he slammed into you a few more times before spilling inside you with a guttural moan.

For a long moment, the only sound in the office was the ragged pull of your breaths, your bodies still tangled together in the aftermath.

Finally, Daniel pulled out, adjusting his pants while you remained bent over the desk, your legs weak.

He leaned down, pressing a lazy, mocking kiss to the nape of your neck.

“You’re gonna walk into that courtroom in ten minutes,” he murmured, fingers sliding between your legs to collect the cum dripping from your pussy before pushing it back in. “And you’re gonna act like you don’t have my cum dripping from your pretty cunt.”

You turned your head, meeting his gaze. “And you’re gonna sit there in cuffs, knowing the only reason you’re not going to rot in a prison cell is because I’ll let you walk free.”

Daniel’s smirk widened, something dark flashing in his eyes. He slid your panties back in place, trapping his cum inside.

“Careful, sweetheart,” he murmured, finding your clit through the fabric and pinching it sharply as a warning. “I love a woman who plays dirty.”

want more mafia!daniel? send me an ask with your thoughts—filthy or not—and I’d love to write you a little drabble <3

[fastandcarlos]

Rest Baby : ̗̀➛ Daniel Ricciardo

summary: when he wakes up to find you not by his side, daniel's heart his broken when he hears how his baby has been awake all night long

Glancing at Daniel fast asleep beside you only made you feel worse as your body jolted you awake once again. The hours were running away from you, and yet still you found yourself lying wide awake, with sleep evading you.

Each time you closed your eyes, your mind switched straight back on again seeming to overthink everything at the most inopportune times to keep you awake.

You were used to erratic nights, but tonight seemed to outlast the lot. You were on the verge of tears, desperate for sleep, but your mind had decided that it had other ideas as to how you’d spend your night.

Lying awake once again, frustration crept up on you. It only seemed like a matter of time before you disturbed Daniel beside you, opting in the end to slide yourself out from the bed. You were as silent as you could be, footsteps small and slow to make sure you didn’t wake the figure beside you. His light snores told you everything you needed to know, envious of how well he was resting next to you.

With a weak smile on your face, you left Daniel to catch up on his sleep, opening the door to your bedroom and stepping out of the room. You hated leaving Daniel, having him beside you was a great comfort in the night, but you couldn’t risk waking him.

Your footsteps were quiet as you headed downstairs, immediately taking a seat beside the window of your living room which overlooked your garden.

The fields felt as if they were never-ending that backed onto your house, in the daylight the views were breath-taking, and at night, as you were right now, you loved trying to remember where everything was in the pitch black.

It was by far your favourite part of your home, a place where you and Daniel loved to spend a lot of your time. You’d sit for hours, especially when he just came home and catch up on all of the things that you’d missed. Usually you sat with a big smile on your face, listening to all of Daniel’s funny stories, but now you sat there for another reason, purely out of exhaustion.

You hoped that lazily sitting, focusing your mind on the outside would be enough to help you fall asleep. You busied yourself for a few minutes, listening out intently out of fear that Daniel would end up waking up and wondering where you were.

After a few minutes you picked up your phone from beside you, cringing as you saw what time it was. You threw your head back as you let go of a groan, silently praying that someone would listen and help you finally rest.

As usual, you soon found yourself in a loophole of scrolling, catching up with what you had missed during your time battling with sleep. Time seemed to fly by as you scrolled and scrolled, hardly paying attention to what you were watching as you felt your eyes begin to get heavy. You were just about to place your phone down when a familiar voice called out from behind you.

“Babe,” Daniel sleepily spoke, rubbing against his eyes. He was just as quiet as you were as he walked down the stairs, taking a seat beside you, his hand resting against the top of your leg, squeezing it gently.

“Sorry,” you hummed, accepting Daniel’s invite to cuddle into his side. “I didn’t wake you up, did I?”

“No, I just turned over and suddenly you weren’t there, I was worried that something had happened to you.”

“I’m all good…just tired.”

"I’m sorry,” he whispered in reply, offering you a sympathetic smile. “One of those nights?” He then asked, knowing exactly how the nights could treat you sometimes. He squeezed against your frame as you nuzzled into him, feeling his fingertips run gently against your arm.

“I’m so tired love, it’s just not fair.”

“Is there anything I can do?” He curiously questioned.

“I don’t know, nothing seems to be working tonight,” you sighed, placing your hand against his chest. “I think I’m destined to just stay awake for the whole night.”

“You can’t do that,” Daniel sighed, knowing just how important sleep was.

“Just because I can’t sleep doesn’t mean that you shouldn’t be,” you whispered, suddenly remembering the time and the busy schedule that Daniel had ahead of him.

His eyes rolled as you spoke, “you don’t need to worry about me.” “I always worry about you.”

“I know, it’s why you’re so annoying.”

Your hand hit against his chest as Daniel sniggered back at you, relief appearing on his face as he saw a small glimmer of a smile on your face again.

“I’ve got an idea to help you.”

“What’s that?” You smiled, feeling Daniel tighten his grip around you once again, resting his head against the top of yours as he stretched his legs out in front of you.

“We’ll stay here together until you fall asleep, this is one of your favourite spots to nap after all,” Daniel smiled down at you.

“You’re not going to be comfortable sleeping here, are you insane?”

“I don’t care, as long as it helps you.”

“But I-“ you spoke, only to be cut off.

“Just trust me babe, it’s a great idea,” Daniel insisted, pressing a soft kiss against the side of your head. He refused to let you move, hoping that his hold against your frame would leave you feeling so warm that you’d have no choice but to fall asleep.

As you allowed your eyes to close, your chest soon rose and fell at the same time as Daniel’s, unaware of his eyes fluttering shut above you too. Or so you thought. Daniel tried his best to pretend to sleep, eyes flickering open every so often so that he could check on you, making sure that you were finally getting the rest that you deserved.

Once he was sure that you were asleep, Daniel carefully slid his arms underneath your frame, gently lifting you from the seat and pulling you tightly in against his chest.

He was incredibly cautious as he moved up the stairs, placing you back in the same spot that you had vacated just under an hour earlier. “Sleep well my love,” he mused, tucking you in tightly again underneath the duvet. .

˗ˏˋ 𝐌𝐀𝐒𝐓𝐄𝐑𝐋𝐈𝐒𝐓 ! ´ˎ˗

[yourlocalsmutwriter]

Okay - I see your Sex accidents and raise you “sex sent me to the ER” featuring formula 1 drivers !

Anon, I love your brain. I had to endure so much of the terrible editing choices of the show for these drables, but worth it.

Nsfw under the cut, namely mentions of : penis and genital injuries, riding, fingering, handjobs, overall accidents during intercourse, I mean it's sex sent me to the er

Charles Leclerc - It was your first time attending the Monza GP and the atmosphere was electric. As a Tifosi, there was a surge of something in the air. And you could see everything unfold from the comfort of Charles' garage. Your boyfriend's performance was crucial, the track being filled with fans, their cheers practically making the ground shake under you. Saturday ended with a P4 in qualifying. Because of your location, there was no way that you could leave the hotel, aside from going to the track. You'd usually stay in Charles' motorhome, yet this time, you were on strict no sex orders from Maranello. You were mortified that all his bosses were that superstitious about his race. Truth was, Charles could pull through and show everyone a phenomenal drive. Now it was up to the engineers and strategist to help him make the right call. Lap 40 rolls around and Oscar's lead gets taken from him as he pits. Now the crowd favourite leads. The camera pans to you, there's a serene shot of you looking like the Maddona. Your eyes are razor sharp on the screen, filled with anxiety? Hope? Love? Pride. No one's sure. But there's so much want in them. The pit wall buzzes around you. Next few laps go in a blur, quite literally. By lap 50, you're counting down along with everyone. The fans, they're cheering for him now. Louder and louder, ear drum splitting. You're not necessarily a pious person, yet you pray. It doesn't take a lip reader to distinguish the pleas that fall from your mouth. 3 laps now. 2. 1. And the chequered flag is being waved. David Croft tells everyone that Charles Leclerc has won the Italian Grand Prix. You scream, along with your beloved, whose shouts of Si reach your ears. Tifosi and Ferrari team surround you from all sides. You let Charles enjoy his moment. Right now, he wasn't yours, he was theirs, king of Monza. Your time would come too. When he winks to you from the top step of the podium, you make a decision. Tonight, he would feel like a winner.

Charles' celebrations end with you, in the penthouse suite you had been upgraded to after his victory. Your boyfriend and you feel like newlyweds. There's even a cheesy Madonna song playing in the background. Like a prayer, well prayers is exactly what you will need after tonight, you think. The two of you are both naked, basically after the first kiss. Truth be told, you were always like hormonal virgins around each other. Insatiable. So you were straddling your winner on the soft plush bed. Reaching in for the box of condoms the hotel somehow snuck in there. Tifosi, you think. They wouldn't want your Charles to suddenly pull a Sebastian Vettel. Ignoring for a moment the weirdness,of it all, you reach for your boyfriend's dick.

You roll the condom on, and straddle Charles.

"You just sit back and relax." You tell him, after all winners get their prizes. You underestimate his size. Usually you love the slow stretch that he gives you, allowing you to get used to his girth. But now it's just too much, too big. You can barely get past the tip. And usually your boyfriend is nothing but patient. In fact, he's no stranger to cockwarming you, taking his pleasure in watching you squirm and beg against him. But tonight he's impatient. Maybe it's the delayed adrenaline from the race. Maybe it's the champagne that was like ambrosia for his throat. But tonight Charles Leclerc wants to be ridden like never before. So he thrusts up, bouncing you a little, bullying his cock into your pussy. And by your pleas for more, he does it again, this time more aggressively. His hips against yours, the way you're squeezing against him, it's too much. He can't bust in just a few minutes though, he is no two pump chump. So he pulls out almost completely and changes his angle. With a pop sound, he's in excruciating pain and his boner is gone. You roll away from him, frantically putting on your clothes as he's saying variants of "it hurts, it's broken and hospital now.".

You sprint to the reception and ask them to call an ambulance. You're not ashamed to use your boyfriend's celebrity status as you ask them to hurry. You don't care that this is straight from a sex sent me to the ER episode. You then take your fucked out and fucked up partner downstairs to wait. You're a wreck, crying, a little bit amused but overall terrified. How does one explain a dick injury? Would that affect his driving? Would Ferrari have to pull out their reserve because Charles wanted to ride you faster. This in combination with your nonexistent Italian was not a good match. The doctors give your boyfriend some anesthesia in the ambulance so he's out cold. You can't really explain to them what happened so you're banished to the waiting room. And there you find 3 out of the 4 guys dressed as Ferrari priests. They explain that the last one got alcohol poisoning and that's why they're here. Seeing you fine and recognizing you as Charles' WAG they immediately put two and two together. All you can say about their hero is "it's fractured, he was in so much pain, I don't know how he is now." They stay with you, offering to help with the language barrier. Somehow the staff agrees and all of you are in the room as your boyfriend's sleeping soundly, a bunch of machines hooked to him. One of the guy's starts talking to the doctor and the other two are praying? For Charles. With no other option, you join them. You know what they say about Italy. The two religions are catholicism and Ferrari.

☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆

Daniel Ricciardo - Danny wasn't the type of person who boasts. Flashing his money around just wasn't his style. But what he loved to do was a good celebration of success. That's why you were in a western themed bar in New York, freezing in a cowgirl outfit in December. His friends were there, encouraging you to take a shot to warm up, sweetheart. And he was the life of the surprise party.

He had enough on his plate planning the pop-up, so someone from the Shopify team organized this. What they failed to consider was just how much of an entertainer your boyfriend is. The bar was open all night, and Daniel, bless his soul, felt bad for the workers. So it was onto the two of you to get the place into a shape close to what you found it before the opening crew was there.

Daniel somehow managed to sniff out the hidden Redbulls, and you got to work. Sticky floors were mopped, a dishwasher was loaded, and overall, it was looking okay. You were by the mechanical bull, scrubbing the contraption down. Allegedly, someone was letting out suspicious noises while riding it last night, and that was a visual you weren't trying to think about. Apparently, you were the only one because the sight of you bent over was affecting your partner.

"Wanna go for a spin on it? Have some fun after I roped you in this whole cleaning thing?" Your partner asks, coming up behind you. You agree, and he's hoisting you up, hands lingering on your thighs just a little longer than necessary. He gets behind you, the bull wobbling a little under the collective weight. Daniel doesn't care. Instead, he's kissing your neck, saying

"Sorry, I got too caught up in this. I know you probably wanted to leave and go to bed. Promise I'll make it up to you. How are you, having a headache?" You're a bit surprised at his sudden question, half expecting for him to make you get off and pop a Tylenol. But even as you say yes, he just replies with

"Luckily for you, I know a great cure." and sneaks a hand towards your leotard, moving it to the side.

"I mean, really darling, this outfit, I don't know how I was behaving all night. When all I wanted was to take you to the bathroom and make you suck me off. Have you sitting on your knees so prettily as people wonder where we disappeared off to." His fingers go from rubbing your clit slowly and teasingly, to picking up speed with every sentence. He doesn't miss how wet you're getting, how you're biting your lip to stifle your moans. He continued.

"Thank God you didn't wanna ride this earlier, because I don't think I could've resisted you. Had to bend you over right between the horns and fuck you right in front of all our friends. Make them see how well you take what I give you, how you'd hump me and beg for more.". Daniel then slips two fingers inside of you, enjoying how you're already riding them. So why not give you both a bit of a faster ride?

His shoe presses the button for the mechanical bull and the machine whirls to life. But as soon as it starts, he feels a zap right where his fingers are, fucking you. You double over in pain as he scrambles to turn the thing off. He succeeds and immediately calls an ambulance, asking for help. He just prays that his boner's gone before the paramedics arrive.

At least that happens, but the people know who he is. Nothing could compare to hearing "I'm a big fan of yours." from a girl as she was between your legs, examining your vagina. Worst of all was your boyfriend signing the bottom of a piece of paper saying "electrical burns to the pelvic region and genital area.". Danny's rings and bracelets were metal, in combination with your wetness, it was a great electrical conductor. That's how you ended up shocked.

"I'm sorry, honey. For the hurt and the embarrassment." He says, guilty that he remained unscathed and you were in pain.

"You're paying the hospital bill, Ricciardo." is all you can say through your painkiller haze.

"Shocker." He says and laughs his trademark laugh as you tell him there's no way in hell he's rubbing the prescribed ointment on you now or ever.

☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆

Lewis Hamilton - your relationship with 7 time world champion Lewis Hamilton wasn't exactly something either of you were boasting about. Which led to you two sneaking around like teenagers. Climbing through a ground floor window, however, proves to be a bit more of a handful than expected. Lewis rolled onto your soft carpet with a thud. He was scratched by the bushes outside, deep red hashes lining his tattooed arms. Despite chastising you about not wanting to just lie and go out to a little discreet hotel, he's under you in a minute. You love being on top of him, thighs wrapped around him, in control. You're needy, grinding against him while you're both still clothed. You run your nails against his arms, just like he loves. But you forgot about his injuries. Lewis Hamilton is apparently very sensitive to pain and, despite his own opinion, has the same reflexes he had 10 years ago. He fucking flinches and literally throws you off him. Your body hits the headboard, ironically head first. Your saliva has a metallic taste and you can see fear on Lewis' face. Your front teeth are gone.

"Thuck you, get me to the ER." You say.

☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆

Fratboy! Lando Norris - Sports marketing students like you were passionate about certain things. For most, it was football, basketball, or other endeavors of the sort. For you, it was Formula 1. That's why you were standing in the corner of the sports bar, head to toe in Redbull merch. Even your makeup matched the team colors, with little hearts painted on your cheeks. And next to you was frat rat Lando Norris. Your mortal enemy. An insufferable man whose terrible taste in women was overshadowed by his terrible taste in F1 drivers. He was a McLaren supporter. The Brit constantly liked to brag that he used to kart and was still streaming with Max Fewtrell , who wasn't even the best Max on the grid. Truth was that when you each heard that the other one was a Max fan, you were ecstatic. May have led to a drink makeout session. But as soon as he asked for his jagerbombs to be mixed with Monster, you realized your mistake. So from then on, you loved fighting about whose team was better. The Max squared title war was in full bloom. And apparently, Lando thought that painting himself orange would help his friend.

"Tangerine suits you." You say as the studio's in session. You're not particularly excited about what the commentators have to say, so you try to undermine Lando.

"It's papaya, and you know it." He replies.

"I know a lot of things. Like that after Brazil you can not say anything." You counter, talking about Verstappen’s phenomenal drive in the rain. But Lando wasn't letting up.

"And who won the sprint yesterday?"

"Rightfully, Oscar Piastri." Papaya rules was one of his sore spots. But actual second drivers were yours. So he asks

"And how many times did random cars out qualify Checo? I mean, really, a Sauber?”

Maybe it's the free shots. Maybe it's the bar getting fuller and fuller, forcing you to get physically closer to Lando. Maybe it's the fact that he's wearing a papaya crop top, and you can see that the body paint is indeed on the majority of his body. But as the red flag stops the race, the two of you are in a bathroom, testing the endurance of the sink countertop. Lando's lips are on your neck, and your hands are between his legs. You don't care that he's already stained your shirt, after all, Dutch orange also worked. But there was no way in hell you were letting him near your pussy. Hell no to that UTI, thank you very much. So you're subjected to his dirty talk as you keep stroking him. You slide your thumb over the head and it comes out sticky and orange?

"Lando, what the fuck, did you eat cheetos and jerk off before this or what?". He's freaking out as you show him more of the orange precum and you have to play the Dutch national anthem to get him soft enough to actually go to the campus doctor. You're scared that you're gonna be patient zero of a new STD called the “Norris” until they clear him. Turns out that for him to get into CHI DELTA whatever he was, they had to paddle his bare ass. And drunk college boys were not really known for their accuracy, so he took some hits to the balls too. Which then caused his sperms to mix with the body paint. He'd be clear in a month, but no sex or masturbation before that.

"See you on winter break, Lando. In 4 weeks. Speaking of 4, guess who's getting their 4th.." you can't finish your sentence because he hurls a hospital pillow at your head.

[nottivagos]

i'm very moved by how pathetically submissive daniel ricciardo was back in his toro rosso days and even when he was properly at red bull... so, have some sub!daniel and basically sexually torturing him to tears, i suppose?

an: tw - somnophilia, bondage

i love love loveee the idea of you being purposefully cruel to daniel when he's finally home after a long triple header. maybe it's a way to toy with him, play with his emotions a little, test him to his absolute limits perhaps, because let's be real here, he's going to want you desperately after being away for so long.

so, to make him crazy after being away from you for so long, you start tame. subtle things like teasing him around the house by purposefully wearing no panties whilst wearing his large oversized tees that barely graze your thighs, teasing him by grinding your bare ass against his clothed crotch whenever you're cooking dinner or doing some chores around your shared house, to even making out with him until his rutting into your cunt, just to stop, leaving him confused and in a half-hard daze as he has to sheepishly rub one out because he's too horny to even concentrate on anything else, making him slowly but surely lose his mind.

maybe it then becomes so bad that he ties anything to get a feel of your cunt again. you can sense he's reaching his breaking point when he tries slipping a hand between your thighs whilst you're watching a rather.... explicit movie (chosen by yourself, obviously, just to make him even more feral) just to have you swat away his hand and scold him like a misbehaving puppy, because he knows he's doing something wrong, but he'll still just look up at you with those wide, confused brown eyes before you storm out of the room, leaving him stupidly hard again from the way you're treating him.

more days go on however and its still not getting any better for daniel. there's no way you're giving up as you smugly watch him become more fidgety every time your bare pussy meets his gaze, his cock now twitching and throbbing just at the sight of it, and the way he now yearns to be shoved deep into your cunt, but you're still not letting up for him.

so, what do greedy puppies do when they want something they can't have so desperately? they make bolder decisions, becoming more reckless. you won't let him fuck you straight? fine, he'll find a way to eat you out instead! you'll never know if you're sleeping, and daniel stupidly tricks himself into believing that he has the skills to not make you stir, but his pussy-drunk hunger clouds his judgement, just like the stupid boy he's become.

once you're asleep, he's already between your thighs, giving your folds little kitten licks as if he's savouring the taste of you on his tongue again, or if he's trying to be as discreet as possible. however, he gets too drunk on your sweet taste, eating you out messily, unaware that you've awoken, just to be met by your foot pushing his head away from your dripping folds, staring down at him with a tight jaw and a look of disappointment in your eyes, causing him to whimper as a mere streak of drool dribbles pathetically down his chin like a messy puppy.

so that's how he ends up being tied up, hands behind his back as he's forced to watch you thrust a dildo into your cunt for the umpteenth time, toying with your hardened nipples, just waiting for him to break like you know he will.

"oh honey, are you a bit lonely over there?" you giggle teasingly with a devilish look in your eye, glancing as daniel writhes in the binds tying him together, his whole being yearning to be over the top of you, his hands to be gripping you, marking every inch of your skin as you pant sweet praises into his mouth when he seals a bruising kiss to your lips. "i bet you're practically salivating, jealous of this dildo in my cunt..." you trail off as you pushed the toy deeper into your gummy walls, causing a short content gasp to whistle through your teeth. at this point, daniel is too far gone. his chest is tight as his cock strains in his boxers, tears brimming and blurring his vision as he's overwhelmed by the craving to feel you, jealous that you'd have the audacity to fuck yourself with a toy whilst he's right there with you in the room. "so fucking good," you breathe, letting your head rest back on the pillow below you, allowing yourself to break apart acting blissfully unaware that daniel is there in the room with you.

then daniel whimpers again, big brown puppy eyes still glued to your naked frame, as you slowly pleasure yourself before his eyes. you know he's going to break when you start moaning, closing your release as your back starts to arch off of the mattress, your thumb now slowly toying with your clit, causing the moans to become a higher pitch ever so slightly.

and when he breaks, tears just stream down his face as he incoherently babbles and blubbers, protesting that he "can't take it anymore" in that stupid whiny voice as his cheeks are stained by his salty tears.

his face is formed into a pout as you hum happily to yourself, smug that your little plan to get him to break worked as you slip the dildo out of your slick folds, pulling your panties up over your pussy again before pulling yourself off of the bed and walking over to him. you tower over his bound frame, taking his chin in your palm so you can divert his gaze up to you, you hooded eyes teasing yet sultry as you pout down at him as if you're taunting him.

"such a poor puppy," you mumble, head shaking as you tut. your voice is soft as you brush your thumb over his trembling bottom lip, as daniel gulps back pathetic sobs from escaping his lips. "do you want to fuck me? is that all you want, danny?" you taunt, crouching down to his level, just to smile sweetly despite the smugness hidden in it.

and he just nods like the stupid puppy he is, before you go over to your bedside drawers for a moment, pulling out a collar with a tag that says 'mommy's good boy' on it, tying it around his neck before kissing his temple. soon after, his binds are removed and you're on all fours on the bed as he thrusts deep into your muttering "thank you, thank you, thank you," as he takes out his frustration of being denied you for ever so long <3.

[bonbonly]

college au! daniel.. people (me) died.. i LOVE college/uni au’s so lord, sign me up. especially because i actually have my own variation of student! daniel brewing.. nsfw obvi but.. another au about it? tell me more 🫵

no em omg because i have this WHOLE idea it's crazy, lemme drop a thot - i mean erm, thought

bon's thoughts (18+) (exhibition, p in v, calling reader a whore/slut, i got carried away again lol)

collegeau! daniel ricciardo is definitely your best friend. the both of you constantly have to leave lecture halls because he keeps acting like he's in high school, throwing a pencil at you and leaning in to whisper some crude joke about whatever you were learning in class. you have to clamp a hand over your mouth and snicker quietly.

it's like having two class clowns in class, one is clearly trying to do everything he can to get expelled, and the other (you) is still trying to focus on your classes while doing something that has the whole class laughing. and so it becomes a game between danny and you, who's going to outdo each other in class and make each other break first. the challenge would start in a week, and danny wiggled his brows and with a haughty look loudly declared that he was def going to win.

most of the days follow you biting into your knuckles to not laugh out loud, or danny burying his face in his hands, his body shaking as he tries everything he could to not let the giggles out. surprisingly, danny breaks first and it wasn't even in front of the class.

he joined you in the library after he finished playing basketball with his friends. his cap on backwards, his sweat stained shirt dampened just enough so you could see the outlines of his abs. you scoffed, going back to your notes because "playtime was over daniel" but when he took off his shirt and tossed it at you because he knew how you hated the smell of sweat, you rolled your eyes and said "ok whore"

and that made him laugh out loud with wide eyes, "e-excuse me?" he asked, which had you giggling. there's a dark glint in his eyes that you failed to notice, his big grin seemed to mask all his intentions.

that little game you had now transformed into something else. you were still trying to out-do each other, but in a very different way. daniel would purposely roll up the sleeves of his white tee for your friends to ogle at his glistening arms after an intense workout. you'd wear an extremely tight jumpsuit when you offered to bring him his homework in front of his friends. daniel, being impressed, decided to go even further one day and undressed down to his boxers in front of your group of girls when they were loitering behind the bleachers to look at the athletes. he flashed a smile at you, waving innocently despite the unimpressed look you gave him. he was starting to annoy you now, because all your friends could only talk about daniel! daniel's so hot, daniel's so funny, did you see daniel the other day? he had his hands in his curls, i wanna tug his curls when he's-

and your resolve snapped, so you decided to put your entire life into winning this challenge once and for all. it was daniel's birthday and he invited all his friends and even for your friends to his house! you weren't really the type to stay up that late, so he wasn't really expecting you to show up. and then his eyes widen at the sight of you in that red crop top, he could see a glimpse of your underboobs and the tiniest mini-skirt to match. when you bent over, he could see that you weren't wearing panties.

ok whore, he thinks to himself, a massive smirk on his face. you really outdid him tonight.

so when his friends, all drunk out of their minds, decide to get a bit too handsy with you, daniel chuckles and pulls you upstairs to his bedroom, slamming the door behind him.

"ok who won?" he asks, and you pretend to not know what he's talking about.

"won what?"

"our challenge? because im ready to let you be the winner," he throws his hands in the air, taking defeat. you frown, usually daniel was all about winning.

"and why do you want me to be the winner?" you raise an eyebrow, crossing your arms.

"because i'm so fucking hard right now, and if my friends even dare touch you, i might fuck you right in front of them," daniel exclaims, glaring at you to even dare think about messing with his friends. he should know you by now, though. you've been best friends for years. and that smirk you had wasn't really convincing him that you'd pass up on his threat.

"i guess you won then, ah fuck, sweetheart," daniel groans as he has you bouncing his cock, facing his friends who are cheering him on. your crop top is torn to shreds on the ground, and daniel's hands roll your nipples, loving the way you whine out loud. he scowls at one of his friends who gets a bit too close for his liking and his hands fall down to grab your hips, bucking his hips harder and faster, "fuck, she's mine, and only mine. she's my fucking slut, nobody touches her except for me."

his words only spur you on, and pretty soon you're cumming around his cock which is still bullying into you at an ungodly pace. you have nothing to hold on to, and your head falls back onto his shoulder as he continues his abuse, "fuck, fuck, fuck, you're so good, fuck i should've done this a long time ago. we were too busy cracking jokes huh?"

you can't even respond because now he's rubbing hard circles on your oversensitive clit, ensuring that you orgasm once more. you shake your head, trying to squirm away but he clicks his tongue, shaking his head mockingly, "ah, ah, ah, baby, you wanted this remember? show my friends how you're gonna milk my cock again, show them how much you love me, show them what my best friend is gifting me for my birthday"

you're screaming as you cum for the second time, and daniel's peppering kisses onto your cheek, reminding you that you still had the entire night to celebrate his birthday AND your win.

[procrastination-queenie]

Pairing: Daniel Ricciardo x fem! Actress! Reader.

Synopsis: you express your love for Danny's nose.

Or

Daniel is your favourite pickle.

Warning(s): rude interviewer, mentions of insecurities, very mild smut.

Contains a short smau at the end.

Daniel never gave much thought to how he looked in general, not the physical aspect at least. Style wise, yeah, of course, as a world-famous athlete, he has to take care of how he looks, but that's mostly up to his stylist, especially during important events; such as this one.

Daniel was currently attending one of the most famous awards shows in the entire world, the Oscars, with you, his girlfriend. And never had he thought that someone, particularly an interviewer, would be questioning you about his looks, his physical look, specifically his nose.

"I am sorry, what?" You questioned with a frown on your face. "I just wanted to know what you think of Daniel's nose? Isn't it ... ugh I'd say too big? Has he thought about plastic surgery before?"

You continue to look at the interviewer in disbelief as you try to remain professional. Your facial expressions are not really your best friend. It has betrayed you many times on numerous occasions.

Throughout your entire career, you have learnt that interviewers like these with questions like that are trying to do two things: either provoke you to try and give something to the audience, which is most likely the aim of this question, or they just take the liberty of seeing you as a close friend who they can nag for information about your life. However, even your closest of friends never asked a question like this.

So, as a professional actress and a very loving girlfriend, you played out this situation in a smart way... by truly telling the interviewer how you felt about Danny's nose.

"Oh," you took your time to look at the interviewer before turning to Daniel, who you felt started to withdraw his grip over your waist. Daniel saw nothing in your eyes except love. Your brows were raised in concern and your lips pouty. "Baby, what's wrong with your nose?" You faked concern as you put both of your hands on each side of his face as if inspecting it. Danny chuckled at your adorable act. You asked him in a voice that he heard all the time when you were playing with his nephew. His eyes only focused on you, still holding his face between the palms of your hands, you turned to look at the interviewer with a funny look, as if the man was seeing things.

"I see nothing wrong with him," you almost whispered, turning to look back at Daniel as you stood on your toes to reach him. Daniel thought that you would give him a peck on the lips. Instead, you went for his nose and gave it a gentle kiss. He stood there in awe, looking like a love sick puppy that was wagging its tail happily while looking at the owner of his heart.

"He looks perfect to me. Actually, his nose looks like the Greek status that we see in museums," you said looking back at the interviewer who now grew annoyed by the fact that he couldn't get a reaction out of you or Daniel. "In fact, I think you're jealous because you wish you had a nose like his," you stated as a matter of fact.

The interviewer growing more uncomfortable by the second tried to end the conversation, seeing that you saw through him and did not give him what he wanted.

Daniel, on the other hand, couldn't keep his hand off you all night wanting nothing than to keep you in his arms, loving you, away from any preying eyes. It did not help after you had won the best actress award for your recent film, making him feel like he had won the world championship again.

That night, you straddled Daniel's naked waist wearing nothing but your undergarments and the chemise he had for the Oscars. Both of you, hair looked wild after all the love making you spent doing, feeling so proud of each other. You were staring at his face while your hand was tracing his cheeks softly. "You didn't have to answer that guy tonight, you know." Daniel said, feeling that it was not worth your effort to speak to someone like him. Your hands halted their soft tracing as you looked at him, listening to what he has to say on this. "I've dealt with interviewers like him before. He was not worth your time," Daniel said as his lips kissed your palm that rested on his cheek, eyes refusing to look at yours.

"Hey, look at me," you gently kept his head in its place, preventing him from moving it anywhere. Daniel raised his eyes to meet yours as your fingers continued to trace his cheek again. "I meant every word of what I said that night." Your fixed look on his eyes reflected nothing but sincerity. "Danny, if I could spend the rest of my life listing what I love about you, I'd do it, and it would never be enough," your eyes glistening as you recalled all times that you felt unworthy of his love, and because you didn't want the comment of a stupid ass interviewer to make him feel what you felt at your moments of insecurity. Daniel deserved to be loved for everything that he is. He will always own your heart in a way that no one has ever, or will ever do.

"Baby, what are you tearing up for now?" Daniel hated himself for ruining the mood. He wiped your tears as he took you in his arms. "It's just... I- I love you so much, and I would hate for you to be brought down by someone like that asshole," you sniffed as you hugged Daniel tightly. Daniel sighed as he hugged you back, putting his chin on top of your head.

"And I wanted everyone to know and for you to know that no matter what, you're pretty in my eyes,"

"even if you're turned into a jar of pickles, I would still love you the same," Daniel stiffled a laugh as he moved his head to try and get a look of your face that he's sure is all pouty.

"Yeah, but you'd still love me because you love pickles,"

"Yeah, well, I love you more, though." Daniel laughed so hard as he kissed your forehead. "Oh, wow. I feel special,"

"You should,"

Y/UserName

Liked by danielricciardo and 173,487 others.

Y/UserName Forever, my favourite pickle.🥹✨️🥒

danielricciardo love you, too sweetheart ❤️ why the teary eyed emoji tho? 🥹

↬ Lilymhe @/danielricciardo, come get your gf. She's drunk and won't stop talking about pickles.🫠

↬danielricciardo omw 🏃‍♂️💨

FanUser1 I am feeling more and more single with each post 🙂

FanUser2 @/FanUser3 wake up. Mum is emotional and drunk, again.

FanUser4 We appreciate a drunk girlfriend in love 🤌🏻❤️

landonorris Did she just call you a pickle? 😂

↬maxverstappen1 I'm intrigued 👀

↬danielricciardo y'all just jealous you don't get to have cute pet names like me. 🙄

FanUser5 not Daniel actually taking the pet name seriously 😂

georgerussell63 @/carmenmmundt why am I not your pickle, too? 🥹

↬carmenmmundt George, you hate pickles. 🌚

*danielricciardo liked your comment*

[stargrillzz]

𝘋𝘶𝘥𝘦, 𝘴𝘩𝘦’𝘴 𝘫𝘶𝘴𝘵 𝘴𝘰 𝘪𝘯𝘵𝘰 𝘶 summery: An F1 driver who doesn't understand how such a successful and beautiful young woman could be interested in him. Note: I don’t think I’ll ever be constant in here, I just don’t have the talent. Anyway I fucking love Daniel Riccardo and since F1 started again a couple weeks ago, this is what’s been on my mind. plus, Lando and yn are NOT actually siblings, they are besties. xoxo

It was finally happening, the last two years of your singing career had been crazy. You released your second album, filling stadiums, interviews all the time, songs having millions of views.

The dream.

yourusername

Liked by maggielindemann, landonorris and others

yourusername dangerous, out now. xx

view all 369k comments

landonorris soooo proud of you sis :)

⤷ yourusername lov u bro 🥹

yourbestie THIS IS A BANGER!!!!!!!!!!!

⤷ yourusername love the dress u picked <3

yncontents she’s literally an angel

⤷ yourusername oh no u are🤍

⤷ yncontents OMG I LOVE YOU

randomuser1 i got a feeling this’ll be soo good

landonorris

Liked by yourusername, danielriccardo and others

landonorris race week and got to see my lil sis to celebrate her new song (in my dangerous era).

view all 203k comments

yourusername lando coquette 💅🏼🎀

⤷ landonorris you turned me into this

user1 I want someone to look at me the way lando looks at daniel

⤷ user2 or someone that looks like daniel

❤️liked by yourusername

⤷ user2 omg not yn liking my comment lol

danielriccardo a talented girl and a heartbreaking song

⤷ yourusername aww thank u <3

⤷ landonorris don’t do that don’t flirt w my sis badger

It was supposed to be just another night at one of those fancy celebrity parties. The kind where everyone’s trying to look their best, casually sipping champagne and pretending they’re not counting down the minutes until they can leave. But this one felt different. Maybe it was because you’d just released your latest album, and the world seemed to be in love with every song. Or maybe it was because Lando Norris had promised you this was going to be a “good one” — a party with the right crowd. And Lando never steered you wrong.

As soon as you walked into the glitzy venue, your eyes immediately locked with his. There he was, in the middle of a conversation with someone, looking every bit the part of a Formula 1 driver. But Lando wasn’t the one who caught your attention.

It was Daniel Ricciardo.

He was leaning against the bar, looking very much like a man who knew how to have a good time, a wide grin on his face as he chatted with a couple of people. His eyes flickered toward you as you walked in, and you couldn’t help but feel like he was sizing you up. That cocky, confident smile? Yeah, it was definitely directed at you.

Lando, sensing something in the air, excused himself from his conversation and immediately made his way toward you.

"Having fun?" he asked, nudging you lightly with his elbow.

"Yeah, but something tells me I’m going to need a drink first," you joked, glancing back over to Daniel, whose attention had shifted fully to you now.

Lando rolled his eyes but smiled. "You should see the way Daniel looks at you. It’s like he’s met a unicorn."

You raised an eyebrow, playfully narrowing your gaze. "Really? Should I be flattered or concerned?"

Lando chuckled, tossing a quick glance over his shoulder to make sure Daniel wasn’t within earshot. "Honestly, he’s been begging me to introduce you for weeks. You know how he is—gets all excited about these things."

"Begging, huh?" You grinned, the idea of Daniel being starstruck by you — you of all people — was too hilarious to resist.

"Yeah. I didn’t think he’d be this persistent, but apparently he’s been stalking your Instagram and thinks you’re a legend."

Your eyes widened. "No way."

Lando shrugged. "I swear, I thought it was just a joke at first, but he's been all serious about it. It's kind of cute, honestly."

You smirked. "Alright, well, then I guess I have to go say hi."

Lando laughed and grabbed your arm gently as you began to walk toward Daniel. "Good luck. You’re on your own for this one."

As you made your way to the bar, Daniel’s smile grew when he saw you. You couldn’t help but feel a little thrill—he was the kind of guy who exuded energy, and you couldn’t deny the magnetism. You stopped just a few feet away from him, not wanting to seem too eager, but also not exactly holding back.

"Hey," you said with a playful tilt of your head. "Lando tells me you’ve been dying to meet me?"

Daniel’s grin widened. "I wouldn’t say ‘dying,’ but definitely really hoping we’d cross paths. I’m a huge fan of your music," he added, his tone smooth and easygoing. "And I’ve got to admit, you’re even more stunning in person."

You laughed, tilting your head in feigned modesty. "Well, that’s a hell of a compliment. But you’ve got to admit, you’ve got some serious swagger yourself."

He raised an eyebrow, leaning just a little closer, as if he was taking a good look at you. "I do try."

There was a beat of silence, where the chemistry between the two of you was almost palpable. The playful banter was just the beginning, but you could feel the tension brewing beneath it.

"So, Daniel Ricciardo," you said, eyes glinting with mischief. "How long have you been a fan of mine? Or are you just into famous singers?"

He chuckled, taking a sip from his drink. "Well, I don’t usually admit it, but I’ve been a fan of yours for a while now. That last album? Hit every note."

You smiled, feeling that warm flush creep up your neck. "Good to know I’m doing something right." You paused before adding, "So, Lando told me you’re the persistent type. How much convincing did it take for him to get us in the same room?"

He leaned in a little closer, the playful glint in his eyes never faltering. "A little bit of begging, a lot of persistence, and maybe some flattery." He tilted his head as if to study you. "Did it work?"

You couldn’t help but laugh, shaking your head. "I think it worked a little too well."

Before either of you could say anything else, a group of paparazzi cameras flashed in the distance, and you instinctively turned toward them, your smile becoming more natural. As you did, Daniel took a small step forward, closing the gap between you two. His hand found its way to the small of your back, pulling you in just enough for your bodies to align.

The flash of the cameras grew more frantic, and with one final look between you two, Daniel leaned down, capturing your lips in a kiss that felt like it had been building for ages. It wasn’t slow or soft. It was intense, charged with the kind of raw chemistry that made the world around you fade away.

You were so caught up in the kiss that you barely registered the flash of the cameras, the snaps echoing as if the world had stopped. The moment felt endless, each second like a rush of adrenaline, and when you pulled away, your lips tingled with the energy of it all.

Daniel’s breath was just as heavy as yours, a wide grin plastered on his face. "Guess we’re making headlines tonight," he said, his voice low, but dripping with excitement.

You laughed breathlessly, a blush spreading across your face as the cameras continued to flash. "Well, that’s one way to make a first impression."

The crowd around you went wild with whispers and excited chatter. And as you stood there, staring at Daniel, you knew this was just the beginning of whatever this... thing between the two of you was.

[emchante]

smutty mechanic!daniel ricciardo drabble ⋆˙⟡

smutty mechanic daniel under the cut, as me and @thef1diary have been losing our minds and this.. just spiralled. expect a full-fledged fic of this sometime next month. and of course— minors dni.

“you have no idea what you do to me,” he pants into your ear, each word punctuated by his thrusts. “anyone could walk in here— watching me pound right into you, over someone else’s car. desperate and whining for me,” he teases you in a low whisper, fingers digging into the skin of your hips as he pulls you back to meet his movements.

a low chuckle escapes his lips at your reaction to his words. “you like that, don’t you? knowing you’re doing something so wrong out in public.. such a bad girl, letting me fuck you on some random car.. like you belong to me.”

his bare chest is glistening with sweat, pressed up against your back. the hairs on his chest rub against your soft skin and it just adds to the pleasure. “tell me how good i feel inside you, sweetheart,” he asks you, his voice is deep yet quiet; his accent stronger than ever. “don’t hold back. let them hear how much you need me.”

daniel’s grip tightened on you, calloused fingertips leaving imprints on your skin as he set his relentless pace. his movements were rough but calculated, each thrust with the intention of electing a reaction from you— moans that escape involuntarily, your body betraying your restraint. he leaned in even closer, lips brushing against your ear as he groaned your name.

“you’re so fucking tight,” he murmured with a smirk, his breathing shallow as he pushed deeper. “bent over this car like it’s your own.. like we’re at your place.. letting me have you any way i want.” his tone was filled with possession, almost as if claiming you in every sense of the word. “is this what you wanted, sweetheart? to be fucked and degraded where anyone could walk in? i’d love to call you my good girl,” he started, biting your earlobe— drawing another moan from you— before continuing. “but we know that’s far from the truth, hm?”

one of his hands moved from his hips to your lower back, pressing you down firmly in place as he continued to quicken his thrusts. his other hand slid up your front, rough fingers slowly dragging across your breasts and peaked nipples, before landing at its destination— your throat. his fingers slightly tightened around it, not too tight of course, but enough so there was slight pressure, which you enjoyed.

the pressure of his large hand around your throat went right to your core, and you felt how harshly it was throbbing. his fingers curled firmly, holding you steady by the throat and still pushing down on your back, and the pace became almost punishing. the weight of his body, the smell of motor oil mixed with the hint of cologne— it was overwhelming, and it made you dizzy with need.

the growl that escaped him sent shivers down your spine, and a whimper fell from your lips. “look at you,” he taunted, licking his lips as he admired the sight. “gasping and whining like you can’t get enough.. such pretty sounds coming from you. do you have any idea how fucking got you look right now? taking everything i give you..” he trailed off, grunting as he continued to fuck into you. “being so obedient for me, hm?”

[ricciardosheart]

Just casually imagining that DR wants cockwarming.....

heyyy i am soo sorry this has been rotting in my drafts for so long, thank you for the request, lots of love , hope you like it, its not my best work sorry

Title: In Between Moments Pairing: Daniel Ricciardo X fem!GF!reader Warnings: suggestive and smut, 18 and below DNI!!!

GIF is from Tumblr credits to owners

The night had settled in, the room bathed in a soft golden glow from the bedside lamp. You and Daniel lay beneath the covers, bodies tangled together in that perfect, quiet intimacy that always seemed to find you after long, chaotic days. The race weekend had been exhausting—adrenaline and stress running high—but here, in this room, everything was calm. Everything was just you and him.

Daniel’s arm draped lazily around your waist as he pulled you closer, his chest warm and solid against your back. His lips brushed against the nape of your neck, a light, absent-minded kiss that made you smile.

“You know,” he murmured, his voice low and drowsy, but with that familiar playful edge, “I’ve been thinking.”

You chuckled softly, already anticipating the teasing that would follow. “That’s a dangerous habit.”

His fingers traced circles on your stomach, the pads of his fingers warm against your skin. “Maybe,” he admitted with a laugh of his own, “but hear me out. I have a… suggestion.”

Turning slightly to glance at him over your shoulder, you could see the mischief dancing in his brown eyes. He looked utterly content, relaxed in that post-race bliss that only came with moments like these. “I’m listening,” you said, raising an eyebrow.

Daniel’s hand slid lower on your waist, and you could feel the heat of his body pressed against you, growing firmer. He shifted beneath you, his lips now trailing lazy kisses down your neck. “What if we just… stayed like this,” he whispered, his voice low and teasing.

You raised your eyebrow, smirking as you turned fully to face him. “Like this, huh?”

He nodded, his eyes twinkling with mischief as his hand slid down to cup your hips, pulling you even closer. “Yeah. Close. No rush. Just… warm and cozy.”

You couldn’t help but laugh softly, shaking your head. “Are you asking me to cockwarm, Ricciardo?”

The slow grin that spread across his face was unmistakable. His brown eyes darkened with playful desire, and his voice dropped to a soft murmur. “Well, when you put it like that, it sounds even better.”

You playfully rolled your eyes at him, but there was no denying the warmth that spread through your chest at his request. There was something so intimate about the idea, something deeper than just physical closeness. With a teasing smile, you shifted on top of him, straddling his hips, feeling him hard beneath you.

Daniel’s hands settled on your thighs, his fingers lightly pressing into your skin as he gazed up at you with that boyish grin that always melted your heart. “I’m a lucky guy, aren’t I?”

You leaned down, your lips brushing his ear. “Very lucky,” you whispered, your voice low and teasing.

With a slow, deliberate movement, you guided him into you, sinking down until you were completely joined, your bodies fitting together like they were made for this. There was no rush, no urgency—just the feeling of him inside you, warm and steady, grounding you both in the moment.

Daniel let out a soft groan, his hands tightening their grip on your hips as his head fell back against the pillow. “God, you feel… perfect,” he whispered, his voice thick with affection.

You leaned forward, brushing your lips against his as your hands found their way into his curls, twisting gently. “You’re not too bad yourself.”

For a long moment, neither of you moved. The fullness of him inside you, the warmth of his body pressed against yours, it was all you needed. Daniel’s hands roamed lazily over your back, his touch slow and soothing as he hummed contentedly beneath you.

“You know,” he said after a while, his voice a low murmur, “this might be my favorite thing.”

You raised an eyebrow, smirking down at him. “Really? Out of everything?”

He chuckled softly, his hands sliding up to rest on your waist, holding you close. “Okay, maybe not everything,” he admitted, his eyes twinkling with amusement. “But it’s definitely up there. It’s like… I get to have all of you without any rush. Just you, me, and this moment.”

His words sent a warm shiver through you, and you leaned down to press a soft kiss to his lips, savoring the gentle way his lips molded to yours. “You’re a sap, Ricciardo,” you teased, though your voice was full of affection.

“Only for you, baby,” he replied, his grin widening as he kissed you back, his hands wandering down your back, tracing every curve and line.

You let out a soft laugh, shifting slightly against him, feeling the way his body reacted to the slightest movement. His breath hitched, but he didn’t push for more. Instead, he just watched you with half-lidded eyes, his smile soft and full of love.

“I could stay like this forever,” he murmured, his voice barely above a whisper as his hands caressed your sides.

You felt your heart swell at his words, the intimacy of the moment wrapping around you like a warm blanket. “Maybe we should,” you whispered back, brushing your lips against his again.

Daniel’s eyes fluttered shut as he kissed you deeply, his hands pulling you even closer. For a moment, it felt like the world outside didn’t exist. It was just the two of you, tangled together in the quiet of the night, completely lost in each other.

When the kiss finally broke, you rested your forehead against his, your breaths mingling as you stayed connected, both physically and emotionally. “You really like this, don’t you?” you asked, your voice soft as you traced a finger along his jawline.

Daniel smiled, his eyes full of warmth as he gazed up at you. “What’s not to like? I get to have you all to myself, no distractions, no rush. Just… us.”

You felt a lump form in your throat at the tenderness in his voice. This was why you loved him. Not just for the playful banter and the mischief, but for moments like this, when he showed you just how much he cherished being with you.

Leaning down, you pressed another kiss to his lips, slower this time, savoring the way he responded, his hands sliding up to cup your face as he deepened the kiss.

When you pulled back, his eyes were half-closed, a lazy smile on his lips. “You know,” he murmured, his voice thick with affection, “if this is what every night is gonna be like, I’m gonna be one very happy man.”

You laughed softly, running your fingers through his curls again. “You’re impossible, Ricciardo.”

“Only for you,” he replied with a wink, his hands squeezing your hips playfully. “But seriously… can we make this a regular thing?”

You rolled your eyes, though you couldn’t hide the smile tugging at your lips. “What, cockwarming?”

Daniel grinned, his hands wandering back to your thighs, his thumbs tracing lazy circles. “Exactly. It’s cozy, it’s warm, and… well, it’s you. What more could I want?”

You couldn’t help but laugh at his words, shaking your head as you leaned down to kiss him again. “You’re ridiculous.”

“Ridiculously in love with you,” he quipped, his voice full of warmth.

You rolled your eyes again, but your heart fluttered at the way he said it, so effortlessly, like it was the most natural thing in the world. And maybe it was. With Daniel, everything felt easy. Even the quiet moments like this, where nothing much happened except the shared warmth between your bodies, felt perfect.

For a long while, you both stayed like that, simply enjoying the closeness, the quiet intimacy. Daniel’s hands continued their lazy exploration of your body, his touch light and affectionate, as if he was memorizing every inch of you. His breathing was slow and steady beneath you, his chest rising and falling in a soothing rhythm that made you feel completely at ease.

Eventually, Daniel let out a contented sigh, his voice barely above a whisper. “You know, I think I could get used to this.”

You smiled, resting your head against his chest, feeling the steady beat of his heart beneath your ear. “I think I already have.”

His fingers threaded through your hair, gently massaging your scalp as he pressed a soft kiss to the top of your head. “Good,” he murmured, his voice full of affection. “Because I’m not letting you go.”

You closed your eyes, letting yourself relax fully against him. In this moment, everything felt right. No distractions, no rush—just the two of you, wrapped up in each other, completely at peace.

And as you drifted off to sleep, Daniel’s arms still wrapped around you, you couldn’t help but feel like you were exactly where you were meant to be.

[5sospenguinqueen]

Bedtime Stories Pt 2 | Daniel Ricciardo x Author! Reader

Summary: Daniel made a silly little comment that lost him everything. Over a year later, he tries his hardest to fix his mistakes.

Warnings: Swearing. A tiny smidge of angst but mainly fluff. Redemption for Daniel.

Female reader with various faceclaims (pics found on pinterest). Takes place in 2023. For the purpose of this, Daniel has been with AlphaTauri the whole time.

Main Masterlist

prev.

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28•05•2023

danielricciardo just posted

liked by redbullracing, YourUserName and others

danielricciardo monaco, always a delight. P11. so close to the points but racing through your streets feels like being on a podium

4,337 comments

landonorris and whose attention are we trying to grab with that sexy last pic 👀

→ danielricciardo only yours, mate 

→ User1 don’t act like you’re not dying inside because y/n liked this 

→ User2 relax, they never unfollowed each other 🙄

maxverstappen1 you’ll get them next time, mate

→ danielricciardo fancy giving me a tow?

→ maxverstappen1 never

→ User3 i love their friendship so much

User4 um, did anyone see that y/n liked and then unliked this post 

→ User5 omg yes! sis was caught stalking and we love her for it 

→ User6 i too would thirst over my ex if he looked like that 

kellypiquet we were watching the whole time

liked by danielricciardo

→ User7 what a weird comment to make?

→ User8 who’s we, kelly? 

→ User9 what does this mean? 

 

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04•06•2023

Tweet 1

User10 @ kikiki babe did you hit your head? is that why you were in the ER? they broke up

User11 @ kikiki maybe ask them to do a head scan whilst you're there 'cause ain't no way you saw here there

→ User12 literally. like why would she even be in spain right now?

Tweet 2

User11 i think we might have to apologise to @ kikiki

→ User10 can we really trust the wag page though? They did report that Lando was having a secret love child the other week..?

Tweet 3

User13 asking the real questions because she's not even hinted that she’s been writing so it’s not like she’s on a book tour or anything?

→ User14 some people are saying she could be on vacation but please, why would mother choose a holiday destination during a time that she knows is a GP?

User15 guys, guys, I think our sacrifice circle worked 

→ User16 please, please, 🕯️🕯️

User 17 how poetic would it be though if they got back together during the spanish GP when they broke up at the spanish GP a year ago 

User18 shouldn’t you know these answers, and that she was in spain, if you're her so-called updates page

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22•08•2023

YourUserName just posted

liked by maxverstappen1, charles_leclerc and others

YourUserName some big news approaching 

6,349 comments

kellypiquet i can’t wait, my beautiful girl 

→ YourUserName thank you for being my #1 support

→ kellypiquet thank you for letting me help plan

→ User1 what does this mean? 

→ User2 miss piquet stop being so cryptic on socials 

maxverstappen1 i’m very excited 

→ YourUserName did kelly force you to write that because i could feel the excitement oozing through the screen

→ maxverstappen1 i wanted to say something worse 

→ YourUserName i hope she leaves you

→ kellypiquet behave, you two! 

→ User3 i live for max and y/n terrorising each other, even without danny ric being around to encourage it

bloomsburypublishing we look forward to the end result

User4 i’m sorry but is this a soft launch?

User5 who is that in the last slide, miss y/n?

→ User6 the inspiration behind a new romance we hope

User7 don’t be shy. tag him 

User8 soft launches have recently become my least favourite thing

charles_leclerc are you perhaps writing my next plane read

→ YourUserName depends how long the flight is 

→ User9 confirmation of a new book ya’ll!! everyone say thank you charles

User10 i like to be edged by her books, not by her hiding her man

User11 don't try and distract us with news of a new book, we wanna know who the feet belong to!

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01•09•2023

danielricciardo just posted

liked by maxverstapen1, yukitsunoda0511 and others

danielricciardo ciao a tutti. lovely sightseeing in beautiful Italy

6,445 comments

User12 you’re telling me that i’m currently in the same country as THE daniel ricciardo?

kellypiquet i’m still trying to recover from that hike

→ User13 kelly and max went on a double date with daniel and the new girl?!

→ User14 omg please be y/n. i can’t imagine kelly agreeing to it otherwise

User15 i know he's trying to distract us with his beauty but we see the last slide, daniel. we see it

pierregasly so you’re telling me that you were in milan and didn’t bother to come and see me? that’s it. i'm ending our friendship

→ danielricciardo i’m sorry, mate. i was doing more important things

→ pierregasly clearly ;)

User16 someone check on y/n, please

→ User17 babe is clearly having the time of her life in italy (yes, i'm delusional)

User18 does nobody find it odd that he’s posting a soft launch not long after y/n posted a soft launch

→ User19 i know! it’s only been three weeks since hers and he’s posting one

→ User20 i can’t decide whether they’re soft launching each other or he’s trying to make her jealous by flaunting a new relationship as well

→ User21 it HAS to be each other or i will die

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15•10•2023

lando.jpg just posted

liked by YourUserName, danielricciardo and others

lando.jpg so i attended this event… and no, it’s not mine before you all freak out

8,223 comments

charles_leclerc it was a beautiful day ❤️

alexandrasaintmleux i’m so thankful to have been a part of such wonderful memories

kellypiquet the most beautiful bride i have ever seen

maxverstappen1 this was a nicer caption than i expected from you

→ danielricciardo agreed

→ landonorris i take offence to that

User1 guys do we think kelly and max got married? they’ve both commented on this?

→ User2 yes but so did charles and alex so…

→ User3 plus, i know kelly is stunning but do we really think she would call herself the most beautiful bride in 3rd person?

georgerussell63 i’m surprised you remember much after the state you were in

→ landonorris excuse you but most of that was just pure happiness

hulkhulkenberg an amazing day

estebanocon so happy to have been a part of this

alex_albon how’s the hangover, mate

→ landonorris i didn’t drink that much!

→ georgerussell63 tell that to the bouquet that you puked on

→ landonorris i caught it so it was mine anyway

carlossainz55 beautiful photos. she’ll love those

→ User4 who’s she?!

lewishamilton🤍🩵

fernandoalo_official congratulations to the happy couple

User5 the entire grid are commenting on this post, clearly having been in attendance. who IS IT?

pierregasly c’était une belle mariée

liked by YourUserName

User6 guys, y/n’s name on socials just changed from y/l/n to ricciardo

liked by danielricciardo

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03•04•2024

YourUserName just posted with danielricciardo

liked by kellypiquet, maxverstappen1 and others

YourUserName my husband helped with this project. baby ric coming aug 2024

9,550 comments

kellypiquet you will be the most beautiful mother. i’m so honoured to be part of this with you 💕

→ YourUserName stop you’re going to make me cry. you’ll be the most perfect godmother

→ kellypiquet i still think you should've married me instead

maxverstappen1 i call godfather

→ landonorris no you don���t get to call godfather! you already got to be a groomsman

→ maxverstappen1 yeah because who helped get them back together

→ YourUserName kelly

→ danielricciardo me

→ YourUserName no, babe

danielricciardo and before you all ask, no I haven’t stopped crying since she told me

→ kellypiquet me too, dan, me too

maxverstappen1 on a serious note, i am very happy for the two of you. y/n will be a wonderful mother, and daniel, he’ll be there also

charles_leclerc i am so excited. alex keeps telling me to stop buying baby things for you guys but i just don’t listen

→ YourUserName well at least you can safely say that uncle charl bought little mcqueen’s love

→ User7 uncle charl!!!!

lewishamilton congratulations, you two. y/n looks amazing

fernandoalo_official how lovely 💚

User8 omg it WAS their wedding lando attended!!!!!

hulkhulkenberg baby ricciardo!!

pierregasly congratulations. i can’t wait to be uncle GASSLYYYYYY

alex_albon welcome baby ricciardo

→ lilymhe it’s not an alien, alex. you don’t have to greet it so formally

redbullracing we’re all so excited for the upcoming grid baby. working on a racer stroller right this minute

→ mclaren you stole our gift idea!

→ redbullracing you stole our driver!

carlossainz55 congratulations y/n and daniel 😄

mercedesamgf1 what wonderful news 🍼

landonorris i’m just so glad i can go back to calling you mum and dad without daniel wanting to drive his car into the barrier

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Please don’t hate me for this! I did say from the beginning that Part 2s would be redemption.

I’ve had this planned and written since before Part 1 was published so when half of you then asked for her to get with another driver/move on, I was like noooooo I’ve already planned their baby 😂

As always. Requests welcome. If you have requested, I promise I’m not ignoring it, it’s been added to my queue

Baby Fever Angst Series

Tag list

@bibissparkles @barcelonaloverf1life @rlalliehayes @dullypully @softtina @callsignwidow @lav3nder-haze @minkyungseokie @luvrrish @fall-bambi @evans-dejong @sadsierra2 @justdreamersdream @spookystitchery @dark-night-sky-99 @majusialikesfastcars @luckyladycreator2 @bborra @mrosales16 @reguluscrystals @tvdtw4ever @alwaysclassyeagle @gigicisneros @spanishcorndogs @thecubanator2 @goldenharrysworld @awritingtree @jxnellat @sbrn0905 @hc-dutch @buckybarnessweetheart @ironmaiden1313 @dreamercrowd @yourbane @reguluscrystals @peachiicherries @g-l-o-b-e-w-h-o-r-e @weekendlusting @leclercsluvs @hannannannannannah @lifeless-firefly @sinofwriting @exotic-iris13 @imperfect-paragon @dan3avocado @barcelonaloverf1life @avillagesperson @hard4ndsoft @justzluv @laneyspaulding19 @danielshoe @chocolatefanunknown @redcrescentmoons

Sorry if I missed anyone!

[thef1diary]

thoughts on Danny being so obsessed with his girl, as she with him (and his thighs) that he gets a thigh tattoo saying “princess seat” or something along those lines 🤭

this is me adding fire to my love for his thighs and tattoos

~🪼

— I totally see dirtbag!danny doing this for you! It took me a while to form a single coherent thought about this 😭 18+ content below

Dirtbag!danny would love this. He’d do it half as a joke, half because he’s just that obsessed with you. And because he knows you’re just as obsessed with him.

The idea forms in his head one night when you’re sprawled across his lap, barely paying attention to whatever show is playing on the TV in the background. Your fingers keep trailing over the ink on his thighs, tracing the lines, the curves, the dips of muscle that you’ve spent more time riding than you’d ever admit out loud. He notices—of course he does.

“You like ‘em that much, huh?” he teases, flexing just to watch your eyes darken, that little shiver running through you.

You scoff, rolling your eyes, but you don’t deny it. Can’t. Because you are obsessed. Always have been. It’s in the way you shift whenever he spreads his legs just a little wider, in the way your gaze drops every time he’s wearing those sinful little shorts that barely cover anything. He knows.

So, one day, he just fucking does it. Walks into a shop like it’s any other appointment, picks the inside of his thigh and gets it inked. It’s your spot, the place where he loves to feel you the most. Right where your pretty little pussy is always grinding down, where your hand rests when you’re on your knees for him as he deepthroats you.

And then he waits. He doesn’t tell you. Just sits on the couch all casually one day, a short pair of shorts on, arm draped over the back, legs spread like a fucking invitation, watching you melt the second your eyes drift down.

It takes you a second. But then—oh, then you see it. Right there, stretching across the inside of this thick, tanned thigh.

Your mouth parts, eyes going wide, and Daniel just smirks. Smug, filthy, completely insufferable. Your first instinct is to scoff, to roll your eyes, to pretend like this doesn’t instantly send heat surging between your legs. But the way your breath catches gives you away. The way your fingers twitch at your sides.

And Daniel knows it.

His smirk deepens, full of amusement, full of that filthy self-satisfaction that makes you want to smack him—or sit on his lap and grind until you’re both a panting, moaning mess.

He reaches for you, grip firm on your waist, pulling you in until you’re standing between his legs.

“Do you like it?,” he murmurs, voice a low, teasing drawl. Then his fingers hook into your waistband, tugging at your shorts.

Your pulse spikes.

“Danny—”

But he’s already dragging them down, sliding them over your thighs, letting them drop to the floor with a careless flick of his wrist.

“It’s healed now, sweetheart,” he says, smug and slow, fingers tracing up the back of your thighs, dragging higher, higher—until he’s gripping your ass, pulling you down into his lap.

Your knees land on either side of his thigh, bare except for your panties, your cunt pressed right against the muscle—but not touching the ink.

Not yet.

And fuck, that’s the worst part.

Because he knows you’re desperate for it.

Knows you ache to feel it under you, to coat that fresh ink with the mess he loves to pull from your cunt.

You squirm, but his grip tightens, holding you there, just barely out of reach. Your lips part, breath shaky, but Daniel’s already leaning in, mouth brushing against your ear.

“Time to break it in, baby,” he murmurs, voice dripping with amusement, with command.

Then he flexes.

And fuck.

A gasp rips from your throat as the muscle tenses beneath you, sending a pulse of pleasure straight to your pussy.

His fingers slide between your thighs, tracing your clit, feeling the growing wetness on the flimsy scrap of fabric barely covering you.

“Fuck,” he mutters, voice low and smug, the pads of his fingers pressing just enough to make your hips twitch. “Soaked already? You really are obsessed with my thighs, huh?”

You make a weak sound in protest, but it’s cut off the second he presses harder, rolling slow, lazy circles over the wet fabric.

“You gonna deny it?” he taunts, lips grazing the curve of your jaw. His other hand tightens on your hip, holding you still when you try to grind against him.

You shake your head because it doesn’t matter if you try to deny it, he already has proof of how much you love it.

Your breath shudders, nails digging into his shoulders. “Please—”

You don’t even get to finish your sentence, losing your train of thought instantly when he pulls your panties to the side, fingers hooking into the lace, dragging the sticky fabric away from your cunt.

And then—oh, fuck.

He slides you forward, drags you right onto the tattoo.

Your gasp is sharp, nails clawing at his skin as your slick pussy presses flush against the ink, against the heat of his thigh.

“That’s better,” he murmurs, watching the way your body reacts, the way your thighs tremble at the first roll of his hips.

Your breath stutters as Daniel’s hands tighten on your ass, forcing you to move, grinding your bare cunt against the inked muscle beneath you. The heat of his thigh is scorching, every flex sending sparks of pleasure ricocheting up your spine.

“That’s it,” he mutters, eyes dark, hungry, glued to where you’re dragging yourself over him. “Fuck, baby, look at you. So desperate to make a mess on me.”

And you are. Every slow roll of your hips leaves another slick imprint against his tattoo, marking it in the filthiest way possible. Your arousal coats his skin, a thin, glistening sheen spreading across the ink.

Daniel groans, his cock straining against his shorts as he watches. “You see that, baby?” His fingers trail forward, catching your inner thighs, spreading you wider, exposing the swollen, soaked mess between your legs. “You’re fuckin’ drippin’. Soaking me like you were made to sit right here.”

You whimper, thighs trembling, but he’s not done yet.

With a wicked grin, he presses two fingers to your folds, spreading them apart, forcing your clit to drag directly over the ink.

A strangled cry rips from your throat. “Daniel—fuck—”

“Mmm, that’s better,” he murmurs, watching the way you jerk, the way your hips roll uncontrollably at the added friction. “Right there, huh? Feels good, princess? Fuckin’ knew it would.”

His fingers stay right there, keeping you open, making sure every desperate, frantic drag of your cunt rubs your swollen clit against his thigh. The stimulation is brutal, each slick, messy stroke sending another wave of pleasure rolling through you.

“That’s my girl,” Daniel rasps, completely enthralled by the way you move, by the way you’re coating his tattoo with your arousal. “Look at this pretty fuckin’ pussy, baby. So greedy. Just can’t stop grindin’ all over me, huh?”

You can’t. You won’t. Because it’s too much, too good, too perfect, and you can already feel it building, that desperate, tightening coil ready to snap at any second.

And Daniel knows it too.

“C’mon, sweetheart,” he purrs, voice thick with filth and satisfaction. “Mark your fuckin’ seat.”

want more dirtbag!danny? send me an ask with your thoughts—filthy or not—and I’d love to write you a little drabble <3

[fastandcarlos]

Little Boy Growing Up : ̗̀➛ Daniel Ricciardo

summary: you can't contain your emotions as your son attends nursery for the very first time

As the car came to a stop, a lump ran down your throat as you studied the building that you had toured a couple of weeks ago. Next to you, Daniel was just as nervous, knowing what was about to come, not quite sure he was fully prepared for it. 

“Shall we go in?” You smiled, turning back in your seat to look at your son. “This is the place where you’re going to be staying today sweetheart.” 

“Let’s go!” Your son cheered, hurrying to get out of the car. 

Daniel climbed out and walked around to help him get out, unfastening her seatbelt and lifting him out of her seat. “I can’t believe my baby boy is growing up.” 

“Daniel,” you chuckled, climbing out of the car too and giving your son a hug. “He’s only going to nursery, he’s not going to prom or anything just yet.” 

Since you agreed to start taking your son to nursery, Daniel had been relatively calm. But now that he was here, he was struggling to contain his emotion and not let it get the better of him. 

“Baby,” you whispered, pulling your son closer to you. “Do you think you could go and give daddy a really big squeeze, I think he’d love that right now.” 

Your son did as you asked, sprinting over to Daniel and leaping into his arms. “Are you excited?” Daniel asked him, forcing a smile onto his face. “What am I going to do without you by my side today?” 

“You’ll have fun too,” your son assured him. 

Your eyes were drawn to the tight hold that Daniel had on him, refusing to let him go. “Come on, we can’t stand out in the car park all day,” you tried to tell them both. 

Daniel reluctantly let your son go as you took his hand, Daniel deciding it was best for him to wait in the car. A member of nursery staff was immediately at the door with a warm smile, especially as she saw how excited your son was. 

“Hi sweet boy,” she chimed, kneeling down so that she was at his height. “It’s lovely to have you here with us.” 

Your mouth opened to say goodbye, but your son was already off and beginning to explore the place. You handed his bag over, standing in astonishment at how easily he took to nursery, quickly finding the toys that he liked and talking to the other children who were with them playing. 

“It’s nice not to deal with tears for once,” the staff member joked. “I’ll make sure to keep an extra close eye on him today and see how he settles in. If we have any problems, I’ll make sure to give you a call.” 

You waved goodbye before heading back across to the car. As you opened the door, Daniel quickly wiped underneath both of his eyes before smiling across at you. 

“Everything good?” You asked, watching Daniel closely. His head nodded, but the look on his face told you a completely different story.  

You stayed still for a moment before reaching across and taking a hold of Daniel’s hand, silently reminding him that you were right there with him. 

“I didn’t think I’d find this so hard,” he admitted in a whisper, “especially as he’s found it all so easy.” 

“It’s nice to know he’s excited,” you responded. 

Daniel hummed in agreement, “I’m glad that he was looking forward to this, I guess I just wasn’t looking forward to losing him.” 

“You’ve not lost him Daniel, you’ll see him in seven hours.” 

The two of them had always been undeniably close, when Daniel was home every second was spent with your son, hanging out, doing whatever they wanted to do, making as many memories together as possible. 

Daniel had worked hard on preparing your son for nursery, prepping him with skills, conversation starters and teaching him about sharing too. Daniel wanted his son to be liked, he knew that he would be popular, he was a mini Daniel after all. 

Your hand squeezed against Daniel’s tightly, “I bet he would want for us to enjoy ourselves whilst he’s at nursery you know Daniel.” 

Daniel’s eyes widened, “I can’t believe I have to spend my day with you now, can’t I go and get him back and hang out with him instead?” 

“Excuse me, we’ll have a great time together.” 

Daniel’s eyes rolled as you hit against his arm, encouraging him to put his foot down and get driving. You knew that he was only messing with you, but at the same time, you knew no one could fill the void that your son left in his life when he wasn’t around. 

“He’s going to learn a lot being at nursery, he’ll grow as a person,” you told Daniel. 

“There’s plenty that I could teach him though,” he argued. 

Your head shook as Daniel continued to protest. Although he had taught your son plenty, there were some things in life that a parent couldn’t teach their child. 

“He’s going to be around kids his own age, not around stinky drivers who are sweaty and gross,” you teased, “and it means we get more time together too.” 

Daniel’s eyes narrowed back across at you, “there’s nothing wrong with hanging out with racing drivers, we actually happen to be pretty cool guys.” 

“I know, I was stupid enough to marry one of them.” 

As the two of you pulled out from the nursery, you could see Daniel arguing with himself. There was a small part of him that wanted to run in and take your son, but he knew that he couldn’t, eventually listening to you and driving away, as much as it killed him. 

Despite his protests, Daniel knew that nursery was going to be good for your son, it was a chance for him to see more, do more, meet new people, everything that Daniel had ever wanted for him.  

After a few minutes he began to relax again, leaning back in his chair as he focused on the road, trying to forget about the fact that he had lost his little man for a few hours. 

“What are we going to do now that it’s just the two of us?” You asked him. 

Daniel’s eyes flickered across to you, “well, seeing as I’ve essentially just lost a child, there’s a bit of a void in my life now that needs to be filled.” 

“You’ve not lost your child, he’s just growing up, that’s what we all do Daniel.” 

His shoulders shrugged, but still his eyes looked suggestively across at you. Now that your son was growing up, the two of you had more time on your hands again, and Daniel definitely wasn’t happy just settling on having one child. 

“We’ve been blessed with one incredible child; would it be so bad if we thought about another one?” Daniel quizzed, offering you a wide smile. “Doesn’t now seem like the perfect time to start thinking about these things, like you said, we’re not getting any younger.” 

“How long have you been planning this?” You chuckled, shaking your head across at him. “We’ve just said goodbye to one child for the day and now you’re planning the next one.” 

Daniel’s shoulders shrugged, an innocent expression etched upon his face. “I’m not necessarily thinking about having a child straight away, but it’s important that we get lots of practice in for it beforehand.” 

“Is that really where your mind is at? You’re impossible sometimes Daniel Ricciardo.” 

“Hey, look at you! Can you blame me?” 

˗ˏˋ 𝐌𝐀𝐒𝐓𝐄𝐑𝐋𝐈𝐒𝐓 ! ´ˎ˗

[yourlocalsmutwriter]

The Redbull curse - minotaur! Daniel Ricciardo x reader

cw: daniel actually cursing the second seat, body transformation verging on body horror, monster fucking, primal play (chasing reader through the woods), dubcon, dark! Danny, author read greek mythology in her formative years instead of talking to boys, so now we have this

It's September in Singapore, the night after the Grand Prix, and Daniel Ricciardo can't sleep. He lost his race seat. He heard the venomous words from Helmut on Friday. But he held on. He knew he could get the tractor out to Q3, he had the ability, the experience. Just not the pace. The old engine was holding him back, and that P18 was the final nail in the coffin of his career. He still tries, might as well go out in a blaze of glory. He manages the fastest lap, soft tires sparking up against the streets. Daniel brings her home to the garage and sits. He just waits. He's like a petulant child, hiding out in a bathroom, not wanting to face the world. Not wanting to let go of the comfort of the cockpit. Not wanting to face everyone like this. But it's hot, and he's not about to be a frog boiling itself alive. He still had a job to do. He gets out and gives his interview, misty eyed, and broken. His signature smile gone. The mention of Austin doesn't help.

Everyone knows why he stays in the paddock. Lando comes by, and Danny also swears the Netflix people are still lurking in the shadows for him. They should unionize, he thinks, along with the photographer that's waiting for a last shot. Daniel gives it to him. And goes back to his hotel.

Maybe it's the heat. Maybe it's the sheer nausea from the track. The shock of an icebath after it. Maybe it's months of unprocessed feelings and the week from hell recently in the media. But no matter how hard Daniel tries, he can not sleep. So he sets out with a plan. And thankfully the expensive hotel they are staying in has a receptionist 24/7. One that laughs at his face when he asks for the best place to find a witch.

"Sir, pardon me, but this isn't the White Lotus. I'm not some plot device that will magically bring you everything you need cause you're staying with us. I can help with a faulty AC, a light bulb that doesn't go out, sure. But I can not find you a tarrot reader at 3 in the morning." They say. Daniel sighs and opens his banking app. He hates using his status and money for things. He had a nice personality and good looks he'd rather utilise. He tilts the screen and asks

"How much?" Within an hour, a taxi stops in front of the hotel, and an old woman is knocking on Daniel's hotel room door.

"You must be pretty desperate to seek me out, young man. What is so pressing that you couldn't wait any longer?" She asks, clearly skeptical of him.

"I want to place a curse. And reinforce one I made years ago." He says, dead serious. Daniel explains the infamous second seat at Redbull curse he had actually asked for. How he had the terrible, winless seasons in Renault to repent for it. The worst luck from his stint in McLaren was due to the fact he was wishing evil on Pierre and Alex. It lessened when he had no seat or when he was a reserve. After all, as long as the "energy drink team" had him, there was no need to be despising them. Now Checo was collateral damage. Whatever podiums he'd had in 2023 would be his last. Daniel felt a bit conflicted about that, he and the Mexican driver did have a good time once. He breaks it down, as cohesively as possible. Describes exactly what he knows about the woman from Etsy he hired then. The witch listens intently to what he wants now. The second VCARB seat, too. Daniel Ricciardo could be a petty motherfucker when he wanted to. And Liam Lawson was going to feel that.

"Look, I am capable of it. But it comes with a price. I see your pain, your anger, your resentment. They are built up inside of you. That reserve is not endless. So when you no longer feel them, you will have to change. Shed your old skin and give in to what you want. If you do this, you might become nothing but a raging bull. Is it worth it?" She asks.

"Yes." He says without hesitation. The world of racing wouldn't be the same without him. But he knows that he also wouldn't be the same without racing. Not without a fight, right? Well, this was his fight.

Daniel lets the woman take a lock of his hair. He covers the smoke detector in the room with a trash bag so she can light her candles. Closes his eyes when instructed to. A magician never revealed secrets, huh?

It works, Daniel thinks, watching the rest of the season. Liam fights with Alonso of all people. As if Fernando was going to let a rookie make a fool out of him. The Alpine double podium in Brazil puts the French team up in the constructors and bumps the VCARB down. Meanwhile, Daniel is thriving. Enchanté is selling like hotcakes. He's still got the wines, the Thorne ads. He's dubbed a WAG of Josh and Scotty, he's traveling. He even attends some Redbull things. God ,does he like the bikes better. Maybe he should listen to those fans and stay in motorsport but on two wheelers. He had the ass for MotoGP, that's for sure. Of course, he has to lose something, too. That's how curses work.

The media is still vicious on him. The commentators, the articles, they help feed the datkness sometimes. But honestly, he is less petty than he was years ago. Repeated loss taught him to forgive. There was no use dwelling on the past. He was focused on the present, the future. Unfortunately, that's not how curses worked. It started with the announcement. Liam was moved to Redbull. Now, it was almost solely focused on him. He carried two curses. Which meant the universe had to take double from Daniel. Equivalent exchange and all of that. There was the reel fiasco. Who knew Enchanté would invite a comedian who was also a horrible person. The digital footprint of that wasn't great. Then, the underwhelming collection, where people criticized him for having higher prices and less inclusive sizing. But, as the season started, and he got to Australia, it had stopped. Maybe it was Daniel congratulating the New Zealander for the promotion. Maybe it was the combined bad luck of hometown heroes Doohan and Piastri. Maybe it simply had an expiration date he wasn't aware of? Either way, he had sold out his new drop. What was meant to be a homecoming in Australia for the new season.

Danny reflects on Saturday evening when he gets the message that it's all sold out. He won. Then Sunday, Isack's crash on the formation lap, Liam and Yuki's performance out of the points. It was taunting him. A hat trick of bad luck was coming his way. And he was none the wiser.

Daniel was getting hairier. He'd always been blessed with good genes, his dad's Italian heritage. The thick curls, the bushy eyebrows. But now it was a lot. His beard was out of control, and no amount of shaving cream could let a razor pass through it. He could only attempt to style it, the silver clippers burning slightly, but doing the job. His happy trail was more like a scarry dark road now, not to mention his bush. Danny had to put 4 pimple patches on his ingrown hairs, wincing as he pulled out the curly strands with tweezers. It was almost like he was growing fur, the hair was forming a peach fuzz on him everywhere. It got worse as the season went on. When Max started getting penalties out of nowhere, Danny sighed. But the sound that came out was inhuman, almost like a cow's moo, that terrifying throaty sound. It spooked Heidi so much that she got mad at him for pulling a prank on her. She kept telling him that she knew he played the sound on his phone, an app of some sort. But his trusty iPhone was charging upstairs, and he was as confused as her. Danny guessed it was just something going down the wrong pipe, an accident. But it kept happening, again and again. Sighs, snores, even words turned into that horrifying sound. The Grand Prix weekend ends. Daniel turns to speak to Heidi, but he can't. It's all a demented moo. He pleads for her to listen, to help. She calls an ambulance and tells the paramedics something about a "psychotic break." or an episode of some disorder. They shove the world's thickest needle in Danny's ass. He's out like a light, and when he comes to, it's Monday night. They keep him for tests, just a few days. There's apparently nothing wrong with him. He comes back home, and there's left of Heidi is a note saying she's sorry. That's strike one.

He packs up his stuff too. There's no use. He had moved out of Monaco. He could move out of this one too. Go back to his childhood home, spend some time with his parents. He could run things from there too, couldn't he? Visit some local someliers, work on what's next. Plus the extra money from selling this place would be good. Of course he manages to wrap it up in 4 days, get an initial meeting with his realtor on Monday. Daniel knows he shouldn't tune into the GP. Suzuka is a good track, though. He rations that if the race is boring, he'll just doze off, the sound of the engines putting him to sleep. Right? He watches the whole thing, ears perked up. Yuki, in his home race, first in the Redbull team, isn't doing too hot. And Daniel feels bad for him. Maybe it's camaraderie, for the almost 2 years they had in formerly Alpha Tauri. Maybe it's guilt, because all of the bad luck was only meant for Liam. Not for everyone. But there is no malice in Daniel anymore. He can't really sleep that night, there's a splitting headache that's troubling him. He googles it all - stroke, brain tumors, aneurysms, the lot. But nothing feels like the constant pain he's having at the sides of his skill. It's almost like when he had his wisdom teeth coming in sideways. There was something trying to grow, to pierce through when it couldn't and it was driving him insane. He took advill and paracetamol or ibuprofen, something to ease it. He was skirting on the amount, almost on the verge of actually taking too much when he managed to fall asleep.

Daniel was late. Badly, horrendously late. At the last minute he stormed in the realtor's office, still in the tanktop he had slept in. Curls messy, face red from the pillow, head still throbbing. He didn't stop when the receptionist screamed (she was new, he noted, must be a fan). He sat down and saw the realtor's face turn fifty shades of red. Daniel was dragged out with a "Why you?" and a "Am I some sort of twisted joke to you." and something about hornbearing. The former athlete looks in the mirror in his car and almost thinks he's still dreaming. There are two big straight bull horns coming out of his head. Actual horns, made out of god knows what. Danny googles hornbearer and in some languages it's slang for being cheated on. He remembers his realtors messy divorce. The wife running away with the best friend, the whole affair lasting for years. The fact that Danny shares a first name with his realtor. Daniel is a hornbearer, Ricciardo wants to remind him of that. The complexity of that sentence worsens his headache. He goes to buy a ridiculous fedora. By the time he's home and trying to call someone else, the rumor that he's a horrible client spreads like a wildfire. The house doesn't sell. But right before the next free practice on Friday, the horns are gone. Which is good, because Danny can't really justify them to passport control. That's strike two.

Australian soil seems to do him well. For now. Maybe it's because he doesn't watch the race. Maybe it's the huge time difference. Maybe it's just a bit of luck. But for a few days, nothing bad happened to Daniel Ricciardo.

It's actually just a fluke. Just like the mini break between China and Suzuka, that seemed shorter to everyone. But the third strike and the bad luck from Bahrain 2025 was going to catch up to Danny. No matter how fast he ran from it.

Farm life was his thing. Before, he couldn't even get that close to the animals. They didn't know him. Didn't trust him. He was a stranger. Now he was shearing sheep and alpacas like a pro. Always knowing when the cows need to be milked. He even knew more about them than the farmlands. Daniel could tell which animal was sick. Which cow was fertile. It started to freak him out. It wasn't like he was using a farmer's almanac or something. It just came naturally. Like driving. No, like breathing. Then came the next race. Saudi Arabia. He didn't have the fondest memories of Jeddah. Didn't feel like tuning in. But his dad was somehow now invested in Doohan's performance. Something about a fellow Aussie in the sport. Daniel knew that Joseph saw younger Danny in Jack and Oscar. That hungry, scrappy 20 something battling for points, for a win. Alone, in Europe, missing home, trying to get sponsors, trying to get the people back at home to tune in. So he sits by his dad, and despite all odds, Daniel cheers for the McLarens. He should really pick a team he had no history with, like Ferrari or Aston Martin. Seeing the VCARBs scramble for points is like a punch to the gut. He can't help but wonder what he'd do in the car. Would the upgrades be kind to him? Would he be able to outperform Isack or Liam or Yuki. Could he be even close to them on the SIM, or would he be at a Sauber's pace or in the wall. Danny looks at his hand, the scar still visible. Oscar is on the podium again, being drowned in champagne like his predecessor once was. And Mark Webber before them. And Jack Brabham. Who would come after them? Where was the rookie that would take it home one day? Daniel thinks of all the kids he could visit on the karting tracks. How he's getting old now and should be thinking of making one anytime now. After all, somebody has to give baby Verstappen- Piquet a run for their money.

Dan goes to sleep in his childhood bedroom and wakes up in a barn. He can't see properly. His eyes seem so far apart, and his head feels heavy. He takes a breath and hears a loud "pff" coming out of his nostrils. That can't be right. He tries to get up, but his hair keeps getting in his eyes. The dark curls are entirely too long, almost like bangs now. He looks around, and he can't recognize any of the animals. He sees the brands, the tags, and it clicks. He's in the next property over. The one which got inherited by some distant relatives of the original owners who wanted nothing to do with it. Who turned it into an AirBnB, giving the guest an "authentic experience." And discounted prices due to the animal stench. Daniel recalls listening on the farm hands talking about the trio of friends and how they messed up, thinking they'd be able to travel to Sydney and back every day. How one of them apparently wore his team hat like a uniform, not having any idea, he lived nearby. This was bad. He had to get out of there. He couldn't afford for a fan to see him dazed and confused, post sleep walking and apparently, judging by his bare feet scrambling on the hay, naked. He tried to walk, but he collided head first with a pole. Daniel lets out a groan, and here it is that moo, from months ago. The sound that drove away Heidi was now back. And it was scarring the cattle. He was walking over to them, trying to soothe them, but to no avail. It was only getting worse.

He hears footsteps and tries to hide. But the sudden movement makes him dizzy, and before he realizes what's going on, he's on his ass. All he can do is try to hide his head between his legs, literally. But as soon as he realizes that two protruding horns are on his knees, he knows he's inevitably and irrevocably screwed.

You hate this entire trip. Your Australian friend finally goes back home, and by some miracle, you can send her off before going long distance. Then, at the airport, she gets the text that her friends are no longer welcome in her parents' home. Something about traditions and bad luck. Slight bump on the road, but that just means that you'll have to find a cheap hotel nearby. The only thing in your budget that can accommodate 3 people is hours away. With no other option, you're on a farm in Perth. And now, in the middle of the night, the animals are freaking out. The rest of your friends think that the livestock will calm down on its own. But you see it as an omen. What if there's a snake or a spider that's in the barn? Or an intruder, a drunk teenager, or something. So you go to check it out, classic horror movie trope. Lone girl in the dead of the night, only in her babydoll nightgown. Serial killers were also a possibility you reason with yourself as you use your phone flashlight. George Orwell did not prepare you for this might be one of the last things you think. At least it was iconic.

You walk in and the cacophony starts again. Of course the animals aren't happy, they don't know you. But there's something wrong. There's a statue in the middle of the barn? A perfect replica of a minotaur that wasn't there before. You go to touch it and it moves. You jerk away immediately as if you're scalded by burning water.

"Jesus, what are you? A freaky robot?" You ask and it shakes its head.

"Wait, was that a coincidence? Can you actually understand me?" The creature shakes its head again and then nods. So there was a human in there. An anatomically correct one, judging by the quick glance you make towards it, well him now. You should go. Get back to bed and blame this on whatever moonshine you drank with your friends after finding a bottle in a closet. Call it a sleep paralysis demon or something. But you can't just leave it. Because he looks as confused as you are. His dark brown bull eyes remind you of someone. You ask him if he's seen himself and he shakes his head no. You ask him if it's okay to take a picture with the flash on and show him. He nods. You almost laugh as he poses, a rock on sign next to his horns. You snap the shot and walk over to him. You try to move in such a way he sees himself, but when you're close enough, you get your eureka moment. He has tattoos, ink on his skin that's as familiar as if it was on yours. The American traditional ship on his thigh. The rose on his hand. The of love and life on his collarbone. This creature was your celebrity crush. Daniel Ricciardo was in quite of a pickle. And you'd be in one too if you let on that you knew it was him.

Because Daniel was off the grid, in more than one way. Even the Instagram and Tumblr fan pages were in a drought. Scotty's content was only throwbacks, the man was practically a ghost. Technically a minotaur, you joke in your head. You absent-mindedly hand him the phone, let him see what he looks like. You don't notice the sounds of distress. How both of his hands fly to his crotch, cupping it awkwardly. How he's shaking his head, almost wanting to throw away the bull face with sheer force. You're terrified, but you do something stupid. You start comforting him, as if he's a child. Whispering that it's okay and that he's safe. That this can be fixed. You should leave. You should give him some clothes and snacks, let him sleep in or something. But you can't help it. You touch his head, attempting to brush off the fur out of his eyes. A male highland cow, you thought, fit him better than a honeybadger. He huffs, his dark brown eyes filled with rage.

"I'm sorry, Daniel." You say, entirely to loud. He knows you know. So you do the one thing you know you shouldn't do. You turn your back on him and run.

He's an athlete. Albeit retired, he has his stamina. He can run. And you barely see in the dark. You don't know the layout, just that it looks huge. You somehow have a head start, the bunny slippers having good grip on the grass. But you can hear him behind you. Huffing, mad, a raging bull. You speed out of there, happy that your friends left the door to the wooden fence open. You're in the thick of it now. There's just a dirt road ahead of you and you take it. Twigs snap around you, you scrape your legs on bushes. You feel like Daniel is enjoying this, enjoying how you already sound out of breath. How you occasionally look back to see him dangerously close to you. How a snake darts out and you shriek, backing into him. How he takes the creature and lets it curl around him, seemingly needing the heat. Danny releases it, letting it go in the opposite direction of you. You, who's kneeling, exhausted, trying to catch your breath. Mud is caking the hem of your nightgown and you're just defeated.

Daniel should pick you up and lead you back to safety. He should trust that you won't tell anyone about this. Who would believe you anyway. If you sold the pictures, they'd think you got a little crazy with photoshop. Or that he was into some weird furry sex thing. But there's something about you, looking so vulnerable, caught by him, helpless that makes him feral. So he has to get it out of his system, the anger he just felt posses him earlier.

He kneels, tan legs familiar with the soil. He'd sit here often after a bike ride, knee pads off, just stretching or squatting. And now he was on top of you, elbows on either side of your face, cock heavy, almost brushing against your ass. He can see that you're frozen, eyes wide in fear. Your breathing is irregular and he's scared. He knows what a panic attack feels like, knows how your chest is tight already. So he does what a bull might do to a calf that's in distress. Licks.

The thick bovine tongue smells bad. The texture is almost slimy, but it also feels good? It encompasses your whole chest. He presses it against your left breast, and swirls it. He's trying to feel your heartbeat, you guess but the only thing he's successfully doing is flicking his tongue against your nipple. Again. And again. And again. You scratch at the ground bellow you, caking your nails with dirt.

"Daniel please." You say and he gets the jist. You've calmed down. He pulls away, a thick string of saliva connecting you. You're not sure what you're doing and why. Maybe it's all the adrenaline, scrambling your brain. But you get on your hands and knees and spread your legs for him. You move your panties to the side, exposing your cunt to him. It's an invitation. A peace offering, if you will. He pressed his wet nose against it and attempts a kiss. When it doesn't work, he simply licks a stripe from your clit to your entrance.

It's soaked and sloppy and clumsy, and yet it has you aching for more. You reach your hand behind you, spread your folds open, showing him exactly what you need. His tongue is as thick as regular cock, even worse. It fills you, stretching you out so good. The texture which you thought you'd hate was actually good, foreign yet intriguing. You shift your hips, trying to move, to get more, to fuck yourself on it, on him. Daniel doesn't like your squirming. It's throwing him off, what if you move the wrong way and accidentally scratch yourself on his new horns. So he grabs you around the waist and picks you up, your knees around his shoulders. He thrusts his tongue into your slick cunt as you're upside down, just moaning and catching an eyefull of his monstrous cock.

You're sure your perspective might be off because that thing did not fit with Daniel's human lower half. It was big, bigger than anything you've ever seen (aside on your curious browses of the Bad Dragons site) and definitely way more than anything you've ever taken. The minotaur above you didn't let you be distracted for long, flicking his tongue. He fully grabbed your hips and pulled you towards him, fucking you with his tongue. He's fast and unrelenting and before you know it, you're coming against his face. Danny sets you down gently, but you're still face to face with his cock. Angry, red, the tip decorated with beads of precum on it. Begging to be used, begging to shoot loads into your pussy, to fill you and breed you. Well, when in magical realism, you think. You silently ask that Australia has good gynecologists on speed dial and affordable healthcare before saying.

"Danny, will you sit for me. I think that will be the easiest way for me to try to take this. Rely on good old gravity." He lets out a puff of air from his nostrils, what you take as a chuckle. But he obeys. He holds your hips, giving your thighs a gentle squeeze. Daniel nudges the monster cock around you, trying to gather the slick from his saliva and your orgasm. He can't even get the tip in. You take a deep breath and relax, and just try to move down. It's slow, but it feels good. So, so good. Danny wants to hump you, to shove his dick inside of you, but he knows he can't. He settles for groping you instead, rough, calloused suntan hands against your tits. Squeezing, making you moan. You're so responsive to him, gone is the fear and hesitation. You're running on lust fumes, fucking made for taking his cock. You try to move, to bounce on it, to get something. But you're lucky because your partner is sensitive. Hasn't felt even his own fist around his cock, much less a perfect wet cunt. It doesn't take much for you to be feeling the telltale slowing of his hips, the throb of him inside of you.

Daniel Ricciardo kisses you as he cums. It's sloppy and gross, and you can taste yourself a tenfold of his large tongue. But it's also right. You get off him, legs jelly. You're too tired to move, and you just hope that you're actually able to flee with him. God knows what a farmhand will think if they find the two of you like that. For now you curl against Danny and try to get some sleep.

Daniel still wakes up before you, feeling lighter, like the worst is over. He turns to you and there aren't horns digging into the dirt below him. He looks around and luckily enough, he did manage to drag you far enough for no one to see. You were sleeping peacefully, his fucking cum dried in a puddle beneath you. Your clothes are intact enough, albeit filthy. He nudges you, getting ready for the most unusual morning after conversation. But when you open your eyes and practically cover his face with kisses, he changes his mind. Maybe it would be worth keeping you. Especially after you promise to get him a clean pair of clothes to change into if he points you to the way back.

Of course, his smug laughter echoes when you realize he's fully naked and mutter "that wasn't part of the weird minotaur thing, god does have favorites." He also finds it amusing that your most oversized clothes are the Hugo shirts he "modeled for", you were a bit of a crazy fangirl, huh. He liked to be liked, to be praised, to be worshiped. He dedicated his life to this sport, so why wouldn't he profit from it. Danny likes that you find a loophole in your visa and stay with him in his parents' house. You're constantly encouraging him, making him appreciate life again. Helping him draft his little LinkedIn posts. Just listening to his ideas and showing him the little Tiktoks fans make to support the Enchanté and F1 academy collaboration. Both of you cheer and drink a shit ton of the new wine when Christian Horner gets demoted. Maybe that's why in the morning you're vomiting, head almost in the toilet. The cheeseburger Danny offers as hungover food also doesn't bode well for you. There's something wrong, and you think it's stress. International moves lead to missed periods, right? Somewhere, in Singapore, an old woman is looking into a crystal ball. It's May in Australia, and Daniel Ricciardo can't sleep again.

[nottivagos]

notti's nightly thoughts (18+)

an: it feels weird writing divorced mechanic!daniel again. but that new beard daniel's got? 😵‍💫😵‍💫, i just needed to write something for it.

"daniel. we shouldn't be doing this," you breathed heavily as your hands dug into his curls whilst his tongue continued its attack on your cunt.

as you whined again, daniel stayed perched underneath the office desk, suckling at your pussy as your panties and jeans stayed discarded to the side of his perched body.

"relax, beautiful," daniel groaned from between your legs, "i locked the office door. no one's coming in any time soon," he added in a sultry mumble, hooded brown eyes looking up at you, tongue delving into your folds, sucking and licking your wet heat.

"fuck!" you gasped loudly as his nose came to nudge your clit, teasing the nub to become even more sensitive that it already was, as your fingernails clawed into his scalp.

as your cheeks burnt a harsh crimson, daniel's large hands stayed perched on your plush thighs, keeping your legs open as your back started to arch off of the office chair, hips thrusting into his face.

you whimpered, the friction of daniel's beard on the sensitive skin of your inner thighs causing your body to short circuit into a mode of indescribable pleasure as you bit your bottom lip, trying to contain the pornographic sounds escaping your mouth.

daniel couldn't help but smirk to himself as your hips started to thrust into his face, before he murmured an "atta girl", allowing his mouth to latch onto your pussy with measured ease. adrenaline surged through your veins as you felt your body heat up with arousal, your grip on the mechanic's scalp now turning your knuckles white.

the coil in your stomach continued to twist and turn into knots as the coarseness of daniel's overgrown stubble rubbed against the soft skin of your inner thighs, still eating you out like a starved man. at this point, you were too far gone, letting the loud moans escape from your lips with no shame that maybe one of your coworkers may hear you from outside in the garage.

"fuck," daniel growled, the obscene noises of your juices could be heard as he licked his tongue up your slick slit. "this cunny tastes so fucking delicious, darlin'," he added as you moaned loudly, eyes rolling back as your fingernails dragged across his scalp and your fingertips stayed intertwined in his unruly curls.

"that's it," he rumbled against your hypersensitive pussy, "let me hear you." breath caught in your throat as daniel's tongue toyed with the now sensitive ball of nerves before plunging back into your gummy walls, now just begging for a well deserved release.

your thighs stung from the increased friction of coming from the mechanic's beard on your skin. your legs wrapped around his shoulders as your thighs trembled, the blood pumping around your body now boiling with desire and lust. you panted, head tilting back as you revelled in the feeling of daniel's mouth on your dripping pussy, and the way his nose teased your hypersensitive clit with practised ease.

"holy shit," you whimpered whilst you were on your point of no return as your fingernails dug deeply into daniel's scalp, your hips doing their final thrust, allowing daniel's tongue to delve deeper into your slick folds. he quickened his pace, the intensity of your orgasm now brewing even quicker on the horizon as you teetered on the verge of ecstasy.

"fuck, danny, fuck!" you cried out as the coil in your lower belly snapped, your juices spilling out of your cunt as they clenched around daniel's mouth, congealing in his unruly facial hair as he devoured every last drop whilst you rode out your high.

you panted heavily as daniel slowly removed his face from your pussy, rising from your legs with a satisfied smirk on his face.

"god, you taste divine," daniel groaned happily as your juices painted not only his face but glistened in the coarse hairs of his beard as he licked his lips whilst maintaining eye contact with you from below, looking down at his hooded eyes.

"yeah? well it's all in your beard now," you panted with a little chuckle, a little bashful as a flustered pink now painted your cheeks.

"i can deal with that," he hummed contently, before nudging his nose back into your swollen clit. "just hope you can take another round, because god i need to taste you again," he chuckled before his tongue delved into you again like a man starved. <3