#hamilton reader inserts

[mauvecherie-writes]

𝐝𝐫𝐢𝐩, 𝐝𝐢𝐯𝐞, 𝐝𝐫𝐨𝐰𝐧 — 𝐥. 𝐡𝐚𝐦𝐢𝐥𝐭𝐨𝐧

— rating: 18+ NSFW, explicit.

— summary: Lewis just couldn’t wait to get back home to his woman.

— warning: very little plot, minor angst, talks of feelings, fluff, sexually explicit, slight handjob, fingering, oral!f receiving, unprotected penetrative sex, multiple orgasms, rough handling: hair pulling, slight spanking, choking, minor dirty talk, minor aftercare. NOT EDITED

w.c: 5.0K

— ru’s 💌: am i back? am i not? time will tell 🤭 please enjoy! like, reblog and comment <3

He couldn’t stop his leg from shaking as the plane continued to descend.

“Since when have you been nervous about flying?” The voice of his father it through the noise of the podcast Lewis was listening to. He moved his headphone away from his ear and turned to his Dad with a soft smile playing on his face.

“I’m not nervous because of flying, Dad. I’m just anxious to see my girl.” Lewis confessed. Anthony chuckled – his smile spread and filled his whole face.

“She’s your girl now? When did that happen?”

“YN’s been my woman from the moment you introduced us. Things have been going really good between us. I just haven’t asked her officially.”

“Why haven’t you?” Lewis sighed at the question, rubbing his forehead as he thought of an answer. The both of you had never really discussed about the boundaries of your relationship, things just fell into place. In the beginning, things were meant to be strictly casual – whenever either of you where in town or whoever could fly out. However, as things progressed over the months, the both of you found yourselves dropping everyone else and exploring things exclusively without thinking too much about it.

However, there was something about this weekend, being away from you, had left an ache in his heart when he thought of you. When you’d spoken to him, telling him that you missed him in that soft, little voice of yours, - you took the last pieces of his heart and made him yours, completely.

“It’s been on my mind lately. I just think it’s time to make it serious. I don’t want her thinking that I’m wasting her time when I know she’s the one.”

“Alright, son. As long as you do what needs to be done. The next I see her; she better be my daughter-in-law.”

“I’ll do my best.” Lewis chuckled.

~

The plane landed and he separated from his parents and rode the town car towards your address. Originally, he would have met you at his home, but it was getting renovated to extend the closet to include more space for you. When it came to fashion, the both of you were competing but you had the leg up due to your vintage bag and shoe collection. One of the many things that he loved about you.

In his hand, he only had his essential hand luggage and a bouquet of your favourite flowers. The rest of his bags would be delivered tomorrow as for what he had planned, there was no need for clothing.

With his spare key, Lewis opened the door to your townhouse and the immediate aroma of spices hit the senses of his nose. It brought a small smile to his face and the sense of welcome. He was home.

“Sweetheart! Roscoe!” He called out and the response he received was an excited squeal and an enthusiastic bark. The patter of nails on hardwood floor and soft thudding of bare feet on the wooden floor got heavier, the closer they came towards him and around the corner. You were ahead of the aging dog, in your barest form of beauty, dressed in just a white, camisole top and an old pair of his shorts. Not caring about what was in his hands, you dove into his arms and wrapped your limbs around his body. The speed in which you came at him almost knocked him out, but he quickly recovered.

“Woah!” Lewis lightly let out a laugh as he manoeuvred the flowers into his other hand and then secured his free arm around your waist as you snuggled your face into his neck and held onto him tightly. Without words, your hug conveyed how much you missed him and God, did he miss you too. Having you in his arms completed him in a way that he had never felt before.

“I missed you too, baby.” He whispered into your ear. He walked away from the door and with Roscoe following until Lewis settled on the couch with you still in his arms. You leaned back and took him in.

“Look at you.” You mumbled as you knocked his cap away from his head and freed his curls from their cage. He had been letting his curls loose lately and you swore your attraction to him increased tenfold. Your fingertips massaged the sides of his temples and his eyes fluttered close, and a lazy smile drew on his face.

“I missed you so much.” Lewis stated again which made you giggle.

“I missed you more even though we FaceTimed every day for these past two weeks.”

“Yeah, but it’s not the same as having you right in front of me, sitting on my lap.” His hands came to your waist and settled there. “Nothing compares to this moment.” He added as he drew soft, circular patterns on the sides of your hips.

“Oh yeah?” You questioned, your eyebrow quirking up as you tried to contain your glee.

“Yes, baby. Now gimme a kiss, we’ve been apart for too long.” You didn’t need telling twice as you leaned down and captured his lips as you cradled his face into your palms. He hummed softly as your lips touched and the tingling feeling of your fingers rubbing on his beard. Lewis smiled was your mouth’s entangled in a slow dance of passion. Lovers, reuniting and quenching their thirst – drinking the lust your bodies desperately seeked. Lewis’s hand came to the back of your neck and pulled you closer as the kiss deepened.

Your core began to dampen, and you could feel him hardening beneath you and for a moment, as you drowned in his consumption, a disgruntled bark broke the haze. You turned your kisses to the underside of his jawline and to his neck as Lewis finally gave Roscoe some of his attention.

“Sorry my boy. I just had to great Mummy first.” He said just before Roscoe jumped onto the couch with some effort and then forced his way in between your bodies causing the both of you to laugh. “Alright boy. You have my attention.” You got up from his lap and placed one more kiss on his forehead and scratched behind Roscoe’s ears.

“Go freshen up, I’ll finish getting dinner ready.

~

Half an hour later, Lewis returned to the living room feeling livelier, changed into another pair of grey sweatpants and nothing more but the rainbow pearls around his neck along with a customised diamond encrusted cuban link chain that you bought him for his birthday. He kept his curls loose, a bit more damp from moisturising them. You licked your lips as you drank in his form. Witnessing his muscles and taut body move across the living room, relaxed and little sluggish. His freshly detailed tattoos, glistening from the shea body oil you know that he took from your side of the vanity table.

As you prepared a plate for him, you began to think to yourself that if you had told yourself a year ago that you would be fixing a plate for a man and becoming a mother to an aging dog who took your heart, you would have laughed at yourself. But here you were, doing exactly that. Tony Morrison was turning in her grave.

You silently watched as Lewis prepared Roscoe for bed, getting him more comfortable.

“Baby, come eat.”

“What did you make?” Lewis asked as he stood to his full height and approached you by the kitchen island.

“Shredded tofu tacos with pico de gallo with triple cooked chips. I made buffalo cauliflower too but that depends on whether you finish these tacos or not.”

“Everything sounds so good.” Lewis unconsciously licked his lips as you placed the food down in front of him. “Your cooking is always good.”

You sat beside him as you watched him eat and be happily fulfilled. Your hand came to the nape of his neck, playing with the tiny trestles of curls that laid there as he ate each of tacos on his plate.

“You should have been a chef.” Lewis groaned as he cleared everything that was on his plate, including the small bowl of buffalo cauliflower that he asked for.

“Why do people love saying that to me just because I can cook?” You giggled.

“Because all of that elbow work you put in could open a very successful, generational restaurant.”

“Fuck off.” You playfully dismissed him as you shoved his shoulder. With his plate clear, you took it away from him. As you stood by the sink, he couldn’t help but admire everything about your being. Before he met you and in the beginning days of your relationship – the hyper independent side of you would have never been doing everything that you were doing now but Lewis took great pride in the fact that you only did this for him.

The owner of your own accounting firm – one of the few forensic accountants in the city. Because of your niche, you were one of a kind and you were the best in the game. Your father and Anthony were tennis buddies, and you had a shared a few games with the man. Anthony introducing you to his son changed your lives.

“How’s the firm?” Lewis asked as he drank his water.

“Good… We finally aced the TSB contract.” You announced which caused his face to break out into a wide grin before he pulled you into his arms as he placed kisses all over your face.

“I knew you would get it! Congratulations sweetheart.”

“Thank you!” You giggled as you wrapped your arms around his neck and softly pecked his lips, the laughter never stopping as he kept coming back for more kisses. His fingers caressed your back as he held you close.

“Joining the baller’s club huh.” You rolled your eyes at his playful comments. As much you were making in the upper six figures – it was nothing compared to your wealthy lover. His generous gifts certainly helped.

“Let me actually fulfil part of my contract first. They could easily change their minds.”

“Then come to a race weekend. It’s more than just entertainment; it’s also a really good place to network with people on an international scale.”

“Look at you being supportive and shit. Am I also getting a hint of something else?” You raised an eyebrow and looked down at him inquisitively.

“I know you’ve been to a couple of races but this time I want you there as my VIP guest.” Lewis nonchalantly shrugged his shoulders as he absentmindedly drew patterns on your exposed skin.

“What race?”

“Which ever race that you can fit into your schedule. I know you’re a busy woman.”

“I’ll see what I can do for you, Mr Hamilton.” You whispered as you leaned down and captured his lips. He hummed softly into your mouth as your tongue leisurely caressed his, taking over his senses as you began to consume his every thought. Lewis could feel himself hardening against you as you pressed against him and all of his feelings that had been building up over the past few weeks that had mounted over.

“Take me out.” He suggested, mumbling onto your lips as he broke away. Your eyes darkened with lust, licking your lips – savouring his taste.

“Just like that?” You whispered.

“Just like that.” Lewis confirmed with his voice in a lowly tone as he moved to his feet and glided his hands away from your hips to your ass and groped it. Shifting your positions, your back was then pressed into the kitchen island edge as he crowded your space. Your hands slid into his sweatpants, and you pulled him out just as he asked.

Lewis sighed softly as your warm hand covered his tip, and you began to tug. His hand came to the back of your neck and pulled your lips towards his. With each stroke of your hand, you could feel him getting harder and harder. His pre-cum coated your palm, making your pulls more fluid, turning him on even more than he already was.

And you? Your essence was beginning to collect in between your thighs. You gasped into the heated kiss as he suddenly lifted your body into his arms, and you secured your legs around his waist. You moaned into his mouth as you felt his length against your warm centre.

Once in the bedroom, you began to strip at the clothing that was suffocating you. Lewis gently laid you down on the bed and pulled the shorts down the length of your legs. The he did the same, discarding the sweatpants and standing in between your legs.

Looking down at you, parting your thighs softly until he could see your cunt. Your core was dripping, your clit blooming and swollen. It never took much to get you wet like this, but it was only something that he could do to you.

“So fucking pretty.” He mumbled, more to himself than you but his comment made you smile, nonetheless.

“You always say that.” You responded as you parted your legs further as he hovered above you.

“Because it’s true. Prettiest pussy I’ve ever seen, and it’s all mine.” He said before he crashed his lips into yours, craving your taste more than he’d ever before. With his tongue parting your lips as he deepened the kiss, he pushed two fingers inside of you.

“Uuhhh.” You whimpered as your tongues collided hungrily. It was like the pit of your stomach was collapsing within itself at how good his fingers felt inside of you. Your walls were so snug and tight around his fingers.

“You’re soaking me already, baby.” He mumbled, his teeth latching onto your bottom lip and lightly tugging.

“Mmm.” You whimpered yet again and wrapped your hand around his wrist as he pushed his fingers deeper into your pussy. The both of you followed a rhythm, the pace increasing as your hips lifted off the bed as your breaths became heavier. Your braids had fallen out of their bun and using his free hand, Lewis loosened the rest and tugged at them, forcing you to meet his eyes. Chest to chest, the chain around his neck brushing against your breast as his hair tickled your cheeks as the curls created a curtain around your face. Complete tunnel vision on him as he made you feel good with his fingers.

Lewis watched as your eyes rolled to the back of your head as he curled his fingers and hooked them on your spot. The sound of your name leaving your lips was so sweet and it made his dick throb even harder. He pulled his fingers out of you, causing you to pout. He quickly changed that expression when he pushed those fingers into your mouth.

You eagerly sucked on the digits, your tongue making sure not to mis any drop – sucking on them just like you would his dick. He smirked as he watched desire drive your actions. With his fingers pushing on your gag reflex. Lewis shifted his body so that he was at eye level with your pussy. The back of your thighs was on his shoulders as his mouth watered at the sight of your lower lips. He unconsciously licked his lips as your arousal trickled out of you.

The sweetest nectar of forbidden fruit.

“Hold your legs for me, sweetheart.” Lewis instructed and you followed his command. Not wasting anymore time, he spread your use open and swiped his tongue from your asshole to your cunt and back. Soft mewls left your mouth as you squirmed beneath his hold. His hands held you down by the back of your thighs as he completely devoured you. He circled your clit with his tongue, dipping the tip in and out of your cunt -making a mess.

“Oh god!” You cried our as your legs tried to close around his head.

“Just me baby.” Lewis chuckled. “It’s me taking care of this sweet ass pussy.”

“Yeess!” You cried as your hand planted themselves in his thick curls and tugged. Urging him for more and Lewis wasted no time giving it to you. As he feasted on your clit, he dipped his finger back into your core. The combination of his tongue and his fingers had your walls tightening around his digits and and he could feel your orgasm on the rise.

“Let me have it. I need it baby.”

“Lew- shit!” You hissed, crying out in pleasure as your juices began to leak out of you.

“Give me more! C’mon!” He urged you. You body seized as your climax took hold, and he desperately lapped your juices until your body stopped trembling.

One of the many things that you loved about Lewis was that he treated sex like an art form. He always took his time learning your body, accepting every reaction that you gave hi, pushing him to stroke you, harder and faster past your limits.

“Goddamn, so fucking beautiful.” Lewis whispered as he placed a kiss on the inside of each thigh and trailed up the length of your body. He hungrily claimed your lips, kissing you with a passionate force that provoked whimpers out of you. Your essence coating his lips, making sure that you know how good you taste.

“I need you inside of me.” You whispered against his mouth as your hand found its way between your bodies and wrapped around his dick.

“Put it in for me, baby.” He mumbled as he lifted your leg and placed it over his shoulder as the other, he held down with his hand as you slowly pushed him into you. Your eyes immediately closed your pussy fit around him like a glove. Made just for him, that’s how good it felt. Nothing and no one compared to this moment.

And you loved it every time.

“Every time.” He sighed as he buried himself deeper into you. Your hand came to his chin and tugged him closer by his bear. You pecked his lips before you pushed your thumb into his mouth. The tingles that shot through you due to the suction made your pussy clench round him.

“Fuck me like you hate me.” You whispered against his mouth.

“Oh, I will. I just needed a minute to appreciate how you feel.” Your eyes slowly peopled open and locked in with his lust filled ones. Lewis crowded your space as he began to move in and out of you.

Nails dug into his skin as your mouth hung open as his every thrust rattled your body. Lewis’s brows furrowed as he enjoyed the fee of your walls rhythmically pulsating around him. Your warmth, your tightness, your wetness – all for him to experience.

No one else.

“Oh my god!” You gasped. Through your glazed eyes, you saw him smirk down at you. He began to circle his hips, driving deeper into your tunnel but keeping the same pace.

“Right there?”

“Yess – Oh fuck! Yes!” Your eyes crossed as you threw your head back. Lewis leaned down and sucked on your exposed neck as he pressed the tip of his dick against the ceiling of your cunt. The sounds you were making were even foreign to you; your toes curled above his head as the knot in the pit of your stomach clenched.

“Fuck, baby. You always feel so good.” He trapped his bottom lip with his teeth and looked where your bodies joined. The wetter and tighter you got, the more he sped up until a ring of your cream collected at the base of his dick.

“Lewis!” You cried out his name.

“I know baby, I know. Give it to me.” He mumbled as he leaned down and placed kisses along your jawline. “Come on this dick, YN.”

Your words got stuck in your throat as you arched into his chest.

“I want you to look, sweetheart.” Lewis said. “Look at how I fuck this sweet pussy, and you cream all over me.”

“Baabbyy.” The nickname came out as a whimper as you dipped your head down and looked as his dick nestled deep inside and pull out, over and over. Your cream was covering his length and catching on his trimmed pubes. Without thinking, you reached down and with your finger, collected your essence and brought your fingers to his mouth. Lewis groaned as your cum touched his tastebuds.

The look of pure hunger in his eyes was your trigger. Tingles shot up your spine and took over you. “OH FUUU-.” The words were lost in a silent scream as your orgasm erupted. Lewis moaned aloud as you felt his release flood your walls which intensified your climax. You dropped your legs to his waist and wrapped your arms around him after he was spent.

He collapsed on top of you and took deep breaths to gather yourselves even though he was pressing on your chest. Lewis then patted the side of your thigh, and you moved your limbs away from his body. You softly sighed with a pout as he pulled out of you and disappeared into the en-suite.

You climbed towards the headboard and laid down onto your stomach with your eyes closed. You felt the bed dip beside you, then the warm dampness of a cloth on the inside of your thighs. A hum left you as you enjoyed the tenderness of his touch as he cleaned you up and left chaste kisses where his fingers gripped your skin.

“Thank you, my love.” Your voice came out airy and soft. The way you sound when you are tired.

“You’re not falling asleep on me, are you?”

“Not a chance. You have much to make up for.”

Lewis chuckled. “I do, don’t I?”

“You were only gone for two weeks but why did I miss you so much this time?”

“Because before I left, we had an unfinished conversation.”

You turned around onto your back, the jiggling flesh of your breast bouncing with the movement. The sight of that had his dick standing to attention. By the little smirk on your face, you knew what he had referring to.

“You have been my unexpected surprise. Coming at a moment I had sworn no distractions.”

“Am I a distraction to you, Mr Hamilton?” You asked as you leaned forward onto your elbows, and it brought your face closer to his.

“No, you’re not sweetheart. You’re everything I didn’t expect to be blessed with and more.”

“I like that answer.” You closed the gap between you and pecked his lips.

“I like you.” He murmured as he kissed you back, holding onto your Ips for longer. Your hand came to cup his cheek.

“I like you too.” With one last peck, you moved away from the bed. You don’t know why but the sudden urge to run took hold and you swiftly moved to the closet as the beating of your heart was loud in your ears. You had known that this conversation was coming. It had been lingering over your heads for more than enough time now and yet, a part of you was still not ready to face it. You had already given so much into this relationship and what scared you the most was how … easy it was to do. Lewis pulled out parts of you that had been dormant and you hated how it made you love him even more for it.

To be confronted with his feelings too. To know that he reciprocated what you gave and then-some was overwhelming.

“You avoiding me sweetheart?” You heard him speak from behind you as you turned your attention your jewellery vanity.

“Babe…”

“No, no. You are avoiding me.”

“I’m not. I’m just trying to get my emotions in control.” You confessed as you stayed facing the dresser, sorting out your jewellery, trying to keep your fingers busy.

“Talk to me then.” His voice sounded closer than before, but you didn’t feel his warmth.

“You have no idea how badly I want this.” You whispered your admission. “And for so long, it felt like admitting it out loud was a fool’s dream.”

“Did you think I didn’t want the same thing as you?” He asked.

“It’s not that I didn’t but I was weary because I know that this is a trying time in your career and you’re so focused on reclaiming what was stolen from you and you’re such a narrow minded visionary when it comes to your goals and as much as I can feel that you want this – you are right in saying I might be a distraction.” You nervously chewed on your bottom lip as your fears spilled out. You still weren’t looking at him, but you felt his arms circling your waist and his face buried in the crook of you neck.

“It would be foolish of me to say you’re wrong. You’re right, I do want to get back to the top of my game and I’m doing everything in my power to make sure that I do. And despite saying all of that, the way I feel about you YN far surpasses that. We were meant to find each other when we did. You are here to remind me that there are things that don’t wait for the right moment. I would be a fucking idiot if I let you go and ask you to wait when I can experience what we have now and grow in love together.”

You were quiet as you let his words wash over you and settle within your heart. “You really mean that?” You asked, your voice soft but full of hope. Your bodies swayed side to side as laid kisses on your neck and up to the back of your ear.

“I do. I want this for as long as you want me, but I don’t want to do this with anyone else, and I don’t want to.” His touch melted you as he explored your curves, enticing your senses, and you could feel his hardness beginning to press against your ass. Your body felt like it was vibrating from how much it craved him.

“Lewis.” You mumbled his name as he bent your body forward until you were pressed over the vanity table. The bite of the wood against your chest did not compare to the sizzling touch of his fingers in between your thighs, spreading your wetness around. Your body just called to hi and he always knew how to answer.

“Ssshhh, I know just what you need, sweetheart.” He spoke as he parted your legs even further and slipped right back into you. You braced yourself by holding onto the vanity’s edge as he delivered long and deep strokes.

“Oh my!” You gasped as your eyes rolled to the back of your head. His thrusts rattled your body over and over until your legs were trembling beneath you. The way that he was controlling your body, you knew that there would be no-one else that would ever come close.

Your orgasm quickly rose, jumbling your thoughts and only leaving Lewis. Your hand behind and pressed against his abs.

“Move your fucking hand!” He hissed through his gritted teeth as he pushed himself deeper into you. “You told me to fuck you like I hated you and I am.” You could hear the teasing in his voice. Then he wrapped your braids around his wrist and pulled until your back was deeply arched. The new angle had you gasping for air and standing on your tiptoes as you braced yourself.

The slapping of his pelvis against your ass, your mingled heavy breathing, and the quivering of your cunt around his dick was pleasurably overwhelming.

Tell me you’re mine, YN.”

“I – I, oh GOD!” You screamed as your eyes closed with tears lining your lashes.

“Fucking tell me!” He taunted with a heavy slap on your ass cheeks.

“Yes! Yes! I’m yours!” You moaned out loud. Using your braids, he pulled you up to his chest and placed your right knee onto the vanity table. His left hand came to your jaw and other came in between your thighs and rubbed on your clit in rhythm with his thrusts.

Lewis licked his lips as he watched the pleasure completely take over your face. He held onto your jaw and the pressure forced you to open your eyes and meet his gaze.

“You promise?” His words soft and light as if his dick wasn’t hammering on your sensitive spot. You nodded your head as your eyes crossed as you clawed at the hand applying pressure on your throat. Your moans turned to soft but heavy whimpers as your walls tightly clenched around his dick, causing Lewis to hiss against your cheek.

He pounded you faster and faster until both you and the vanity were rattling. You held on tightly as your climax peaked and Lewis held onto you tightly as he coated your walls, his hoarse moans sweetly ringing in your ears. He rutted into you until he was spent.

The smell of your sex and the sound of your breathing were your only companion until you opened your eyes and the first thing you spotted was the crack on the side of the vanity mirror. You couldn’t stop the giggle that escaped.

“What?” Lewis questioned as he untangled himself from you and turned you around until you were facing him.

“We broke the vanity.” You said as you played with his chains. His eyes moved past your head to the crack. He smiled as he turned back to you until his lips met yours and pulled you into a passionate kiss.

“You won’t need this one anymore. I bought you a bigger and sturdier one for the new closet in Knightsbridge.” The lack of hesitation in his statement brought finality to what this was.

“This is it huh?” You smiled as he picked you up in his arms and headed towards the shower.

“This is it. You’re the only one for me, YN.” He smiled as you ran your hands through his now sweat damp curls. You hugged him tighter. Yeah, this was it for you too.

—————————

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[fanfictionismyaddiction]

The Gossip Chronicles

Word Count: 835

Pairing: lando Norris x reader

Summary: Lando and Y/n, both lovers of gossip, eagerly dissect the drama after the drivers dinner

________________________________________________________

The low hum of the air conditioning filled the room as Y/n lounged on the plush hotel bed, scrolling through her phone. The soft glow of the bedside lamp illuminated her eager expression as she refreshed Twitter for the umpteenth time, hoping to catch a glimpse of what went down at the drivers’ dinner. She loved drama, and being with Lando Norris only fueled her insatiable thirst for F1 gossip.

She glanced at the clock. 10:45 PM. He’d been gone long enough.

When the door finally clicked open, Y/n practically leapt off the bed. Lando walked in, pulling the hood of his light blue hoodie down as he set his keycard on the dresser. The hoodie was slightly wrinkled, and the sleeves were pushed up to his elbows, giving him that effortlessly casual vibe that Y/n loved.

“Finally!” Y/n exclaimed, grabbing a pillow and chucking it lightly at him. “What took you so long? You know I’ve been dying to hear everything.”

Lando laughed, dodging the pillow with ease. “Nice to see you too, love.”

“Don’t ‘love’ me,” she said, crossing her arms and pouting. “Spill. Now.”

Lando tugged off his sneakers and flopped onto the bed beside her, the faint scent of cologne lingering as he did. “Alright, alright,” he said, adjusting his hoodie. “Where do I even start?”

“Max and George,” Y/n said immediately, her eyes lighting up. “I saw the clips from the press conference earlier, and you can’t tell me there wasn’t tension. What happened? Did they fight? Was it awkward?”

Lando chuckled, running a hand through his hair, making it stick up slightly under his hood. “Oh, it was so awkward. Max barely looked at George the entire dinner. He was polite enough to everyone else, but you could tell he was still pissed about the whole sprint race thing.”

“I knew it!” Y/n practically squealed, sitting up straighter. “Did George say anything to him?”

“Well,” Lando said, stretching his legs out, “George tried to be civil—like, he even made this joke about the weather or something—but Max just gave him that look. You know the one.”

Y/n nodded eagerly. “The ‘I’m about to crush you on the track’ look?”

“Exactly,” Lando confirmed, smirking. “It was so uncomfortable that even Carlos had to jump in and crack a joke to break the tension.”

“Of course Carlos did,” Y/n said, rolling her eyes fondly. “What about Lewis? Was he Switzerland as usual?”

Lando snorted. “Pretty much. He was sitting between Charles and George, though, so he didn’t really get involved. But I swear, Valtteri was eating it all up. You know how he loves watching chaos unfold without actually being in it?”

“That man is the definition of petty,” Y/n said, laughing. “What about Charles? Was he just… being pretty and clueless as usual?”

Lando burst out laughing. “Pretty much. He was just sitting there, sipping his wine, probably wondering how he got stuck in the middle of all this drama. Carlos kept nudging him like, ‘Just stay quiet.’”

Y/n leaned forward, her eyes wide with excitement. “Tell me more. Who else was doing what? Did Pierre and Yuki cause a scene? Did Oscar say anything?”

Lando laughed, pulling his hood back up for dramatic effect. “Yuki almost spilled his drink trying to get Pierre to stop flirting with the waitress. And Oscar… well, Oscar just looked like he was mentally filing for a restraining order from all of us.”

Y/n laughed so hard she had to clutch her stomach. “Poor Oscar. He didn’t sign up for this chaos.”

“No, but he’s learning quickly,” Lando said, chuckling.

“So,” Y/n said, leaning closer and dropping her voice to a conspiratorial whisper, “what’s your personal take on the Max and George drama? Whose side are you on?”

Lando gave her a playful side-eye, tugging on the drawstrings of his hoodie. “You trying to get me in trouble, love?”

“Always,” she said with a grin.

“Well,” Lando said, drawing out the word dramatically, “Max is definitely holding onto a grudge, but George isn’t exactly innocent either. I think they just need to have a proper shouting match and get it over with.”

Y/n nodded sagely. “Agreed. Maybe I should lock them in a room together during the next race weekend.”

“Or we could just sit back and enjoy the show,” Lando said, smirking. “You know there’s bound to be more fireworks soon.”

“True,” Y/n said, settling back against the pillows. “I swear, F1 is better than any reality TV show.”

Lando wrapped an arm around her, pulling her close. “And you’re my favorite co-star.”

Y/n smiled, pressing a quick kiss to his cheek. “You’re just saying that because I let you gossip as much as I do.”

“Maybe,” Lando admitted, laughing. “But hey, it’s our thing.”

[formulafanfics13]

Kimi and lewis's daughter are in the paddock with their baby, and kimi goes off somewhere, leaving the reader and their baby when someone comes up and flirts with her and she's just not into it and they aren't taking the hint so when kimi comes back he's just goes off on them for flirting with his girl and lewis is standing there like a proud dad

she's taken. so is my patience - KA12

Masterlist

summary: you’re in the paddock with your baby strapped to your chest and a soft smile on your face, waiting for Kimi to come back from a quiet conversation. someone thinks that’s an invitation. it’s not. you’re polite. You’re clear. But they don’t listen. When Kimi returns, he doesn’t raise his voice — just stares them down with a fury that says mine. And Lewis? Lewis is watching it all, arms crossed, proud as hell.

warnings: established relationship, married reader x Kimi, new parents, baby in a carrier, mild verbal confrontation, possessiveness, protective dad!kimi, proud dad!lewis (reader is his daughter), flirting attempt from a random paddock man, reader politely declining, implied past jealousy from kimi, mild swearing, reader is treated like gold, reader is polite until she doesn’t need to be, family fluff, paddock setting

You’ve got the baby strapped to your chest and a coffee in your hand, standing outside the Alfa Romeo garage and trying not to sweat through your top. It’s sunny. Monaco is buzzing. Kimi just stepped away to talk with one of the engineers, and your daughter, six months old, heavy and sweet and still sleepy from the car ride in, is tucked against your chest with her tiny fist clinging to the front of your shirt.

You’re minding your business. Being normal. Trying not to trip over a cable or spill oat milk on your child. And then he shows up.

Not a driver. Not someone you know well. Paddock-adjacent. A sponsor? A journalist? Something in a media polo with a smile too wide and a walk too confident.

“Didn’t know Kimi had such a beautiful wife,” he says casually, stepping into your space.

You blink. “Girlfriend, actually. And yes, he does.”

He grins. Doesn’t leave. “She your first?” he nods toward the baby.

You nod. Keep it short. “Yep.”

“She’s got your eyes.”

You smile, tight. “Her dad’s, actually.”

“She’s lucky,” he says, stepping closer. “Not every girl gets to grow up with a mom that hot.”

You flinch back a bit, protective instinct sharp. “Okay. You need to leave.”

He laughs like you’re flirting. “C’mon, I’m just being nice.”

You turn, rocking the baby gently. “You’re being disrespectful.”

He whistles. “Damn. Okay. Didn’t mean to offend.” He raises his hands like it’s a joke. “You single though? Or Kimi still around?”

You open your mouth to shut it all the way down—

And that’s when you hear the voice. “Still around.” It’s flat. Italian. Kimi.

Behind him. Arms crossed. Shades on. Rage simmering beneath his voice like a low, mechanical hum. You’ve seen Kimi annoyed. Grumpy. Feral.

This isn’t that. This is territorial. This is pissed.

The guy turns, nervous laugh already forming. “Hey kid, I was just-”

Kimi takes one step forward. That’s all. “You don’t talk to her,” he says. Not loud. But sharp. Final. “Not when I’m here. Not when I’m not. You understand?”

The guy falters. “I didn’t mean-”

Kimi cocks his head, jaw flexing. “You don’t listen either. She said no.”

There’s a silence. Heavy. You can hear the baby breathing against your chest.

And then, Lewis. He steps up beside Kimi with his arms folded, watching the entire thing with that smile he saves for go-kart wins and Monaco podiums.

“Everything alright here?” he asks, casually.

The guy glances between them, between Kimi Antonelli and Lewis Hamilton, both staring him down like prey, and mumbles something like an apology before retreating so fast he nearly knocks over a Sky camera rig.

You exhale.

Kimi’s by your side in an instant, one hand on your waist, the other checking the baby’s position without even looking. “He touched you?”

“No,” you whisper.

He nods. Kisses your temple. “Good.”

Lewis steps in front of you, brushing a finger down your baby’s cheek. “You okay, sweetheart?”

You nod.

Kimi looks at him. “You see that?”

Lewis grins. “Saw the whole thing.”

“Should’ve punched him,” Kimi mutters.

“I’m proud of you for using words,” Lewis smirks.

You roll your eyes. “Can we not fight men in the paddock today?”

Kimi grumbles. “He flirted with my girl. While she held my baby.”

“Your baby,” Lewis echoes proudly, reaching to hold her tiny hand. “And my granddaughter.”

Kimi glances at you. Then down at your chest. Then sighs, like he’s still itching to go back and flatten the guy with a tire gun.

“Next time I am punching him.”

You smile, press a kiss to his cheek, and hand him the baby.

“Next time,” you say sweetly, “you’re babysitting while I go take a nap.” He takes her in his arms like she’s made of gold. Doesn’t argue.

Lewis claps him on the shoulder. “You did good, kid.”

Kimi just shrugs, baby on his hip, lips on your forehead. “She’s mine.”

[bunny-jpeg]

the price of neediness

lewis hamilton

tags: smut/pwp, age gap (40s/20s), (slight) sugar daddy!lewis, gentle sex, dirty talk, cowgirl position, body worship

author's note: back for hiatus! recovery from surgery is going well, feeling like a brand new person and about 10lbs lighter! hoping to get back into the game with writing fan fics! i hope ya'll enjoy this!!

How Lewis spoke to you left shivers down your spine. There was something about the older man that mad you straighten up your posture and keep your eyes on how his hands grazed across your skin.

  "Feel like heaven." He said softly, you wrapped up in the softness of his sheets, "look like it too." His chuckle was soft as well as his hands slid across your middle, "Pretty little thing." He near cooed as he leaned over to kiss you gently on the lips.

  "Sir." You whispered, the pleasure thick in your core.

  “You’re such a needy girl”

It was a glamorous little life. To be the beloved arm candy of one of the most famous drivers to ever drive for Formula One. Well, most thought it was just simple arm candy. You were a darling for the press, they simply ate you out. But the age gap was one that cold raise a few eyebrows. You didn't care, you were happy.

And while you could have survived without the luxury, Lewis had a habit of spoiling you. At first it left you flustered, but eventually you took to it quite well. Often calling you the most beautiful woman he had ever laid eyes on - so why not adorn you in the most beautiful things the world had to offer?

The sentiment made your cheeks run hot and when he said it you immediately hid your face from slight embarrassment. When he managed to pry your hands away from your face, he kissed you and you made you promise him not to hide your face like that.

  "I want to see your face when I treat you."

  "You don't need to spend money on me."

He smiled, the kind of smile that twinkled in his dark eyes, "I don't need to. I want to. That's the difference, my dove." Then kissed you once more.

He did have his favourite when it came to things you wore - one of those things was his clothes. While it wasn't the most sexy article of clothing. The over-sized fit of the Ferrari red t-shirt looked nice on you. A little more form fitting, due to the shape of your body - but you looked good in. Especially when you reached up to fix one of the framed photos of on that wall that had gone crooked.

The peek of your round ass was all he could eye while he sat on the couch. He swallowed back the lust as he asked, "Now where did you get that, my dove?"

You looked over your shoulder while you settled fully back on your feet. You looked over your shoulder, your eyes glanced towards him. Then you said very casually, "Found it in your drawer, didn't think you'd miss it too much."

He chuckled as he shifted in his spot on the couch. Pretty little thing. Soft ass with softer thighs - the kind of skin that marked easily between his teeth. The roundness of your face and the slight pout in your lips. Not to mention your large breasts that Lewis often thought about during his off-time while you were apart.

You were his dove, his perfect beauty. So to see you covered in the logo of his new team left him feeling a little excited.

  "You're finally learning what's mine is yours." He said as he spread his legs a little more, "Can I get a closer look at you?" And his gaze lingered on you as you approached him, then ended up in his lap.

His hands traced the logos of the shirt before he cupped your breasts in both his hands. They fit just right. He licked his lips and met your eyes.

  "Like what you see, honey?" You asked coyly.

  "No one ever told you looked good in red?" Then broke out a proper grin. He was smitten, horribly so. But he didn't care, not when you were in his lap looking like an angel from the heavens above.

  "No. But I have a feeling you like me in this colour." You then carefully pulled his hands away from you and added, "I wonder what it would look like on the floor?" Then got the shirt over your head and tossed over your head. Your soft curves were on display, every inch exposed to your lover.

  "Where did you get this?" He said as he played with the strap of the bra you wore. It was a light grey colour and did not match the blue panties you had on.

  "Discount section of the department store." you replied with humour.

He laughed, "I could have bought you something nicer. Something that matched." And you laughed as well.

You placed a hand on his chest and leaned in further, "Why? Do you not want to fuck me now, Mister Hamilton?" Then you winked at him.

He shifted in his spot and held his smile, "Oh, dove. I would fuck in a Red bull t-shirt or a potato sack."

You snickered, "What's the difference?"

He cupped your ass in his hands and raised his eyebrows, "That's my girl." Then laughed before you moved your hips up against his cock. He could feel the shudder of pleasure course through him. He stopped you prematurely and said, "Let's get a little more comfortable."

Then both of you worked to get his cock out of his sweatpants before your mismatched pair of bra and panties were tossed somewhere in the living room. But it didn't matter - he 'd happily buy you the same set if you so desired.

His hands roamed your body, you were so warm under his touch. You looked like one of those classic paintings he had seen in museums over the years. Curves in ways that made his mouth water, a laugh that pulled him in like a ship to shore. A beautiful woman in his lap, that thrilled him like no other. It was why he wished to spoil you, adore you - give you anything you desired. Because you had given him everything he needed and so much more.

He admired you once more, the flutter of pleasure in your chest before you took a hold of his shoulders. You rubbed them gently as he helped you onto his cock, then slowly you sank down on it. Your thighs framing his. This felt right, you felt right in his arms.

Your pussy wrapped around his cock - it felt perfect. And when you started to move your hips, the feeling only felt more real. This was the best feeling he ever had - more so than all those wins, in all those cars. To have you in his lap, your painted nails dug into his strong shoulders while you worked yourself on his cock. Now that was a perfect feeling - a right feeling.

You two shared a kiss, your eyes closed as your soft lips pressed against his. He took a hold of your ass, the flesh under his grasp as he guided you further onto his cock. He set the pace in a way that made your soul sing from the heat of the pleasure that wrapped you up.

The feeling of him around you felt welcoming - warm in a way that kept your body moving. You chased after the pleasure that bloomed in your heart. Took in the sight of the handsome man that you're riding. His cock that rubbed up against all the right spots, the pleasure that continued to build up in your body. You panted a little heavier as you felt heat sting your cheeks. Your body moved so well against his.

And how he held you made you feel adored, beautiful with every inch of skin on display. When he licked his lips you felt a shudder run through you.

  "Look at you." He praised, "Can't ever get enough of you. Love the sight of you on top of me." He continued to palm at your ass while you picked up the pace of your movements. You felt the pleasure on the tip of your tongue, as did he.

Another passionate kiss was shared and you soon held onto the back of his head to deepen the kiss. You moaned against his lips and the movement of your hips increased, pleasure flowed through both of you with excited want.

He groaned against your lips as the pleasure mounted for him. Never had he had a woman like you, a lover like you. That was why he was so keen on making you feel as well as you could. He would do everything in his power to make sure that you experienced only heightened euphoria.

You kissed the corner of his mouth before you pulled away and gazed down at him lovingly. Your body moved against his and the pleasure continued to course through you. You licked your lips and admired him, "Lewis."

  "Dove." He replied softly, the look in his brown eyes only spurred you on further. The feeling of your bodies together only heightened the lust. That he could simply have you in his lap and he got to watch your rut against him.

  "Fuck." You gasped as the pleasure quickly became too much. Your movements became less focused, the speed was quick as you needed you climax. You clutched onto him tightly by the biceps once more as you worked your achy thighs and your pussy clenched around his cock.

He shared another kiss with you before you finished around his cock. Your wetness dripped down his balls and the leather of the couch. The kiss was heated and he gripped onto you tightly to make sure that you kept those hips moving while he was close to his own climax.

  "Lewis." You whined.

  "Beautiful." He said with lust heavy in his tone. He moved you up and down his cock. The pleasure mounted in him before he shared another tender kiss with you. The kiss was heated, but tinged with sweetness as he got you fully down on his cock. With that he finished inside of you with a visible tension then relaxation of his body.

He groaned against your lips and you moaned in response. You held onto him tightly, wrapped up in each other's pleasure for a few more thrusts of your hips before they died down to a stop. You stayed straddled in his lap and tenderly kissed him.

  "You look good in my colours." He said with a smile.

  "I'd look even better with your logo on." you winked in response, "Maybe a pair of panties will do. Something on you'll see." And he pulled you in for another hot kiss.

  "That sounds like a great idea, dove." He purred, "And I'm sure you'll make the logo look fantastic." You couldn't wait to tell him that you already a pair in the same drawer he happened to have a velvet box in.

But you weren't going to give away your surprise until he gave away his. But you had a feeling his was more expensive. <3

[doujindungeon]

summary: Your housewarming party with practically half the season’s lineup gets downright scorching. rating: nc-17 pairing: f!reader/12 (twelve) f1 drivers [daniel r, lando n, pierre g, lance s, carlos s, alex a, george r, esteban o, charles l, max v, fernando a, lewis h content warnings: gangbang, blowjobs, double penetration (vaginal and anal), use of aphrodisiacs if you really squint word count: 3.0k

Between the Monte Carlo summer air or this particular glass of Enchanté wine, you weren’t sure what had your body sweltering with heat.

As you had fully planned for today to host your special housewarming party, you didn’t anticipate feeling this flushed and hot of all times, of all days.

Especially when you had welcomed a majority of F1’s current drivers over to your far from humble abode–a luxurious penthouse right along the coast of Monte Carlo.

The occasion was simple but the reason was grand: in light of your ascent to team principal for Honda’s formal entry as a contender next season, you had finally taken the plunge to acquire a new home, basking in the abundant opulence that Monaco had to offer as you became neighbors with a majority of the paddock.

While you had full intention of inviting as many people out throughout your planned week of celebrations–whether engineers and other staff from your team, other key executives and leaders from the likes of Honda and the GPDA, and more–you were particularly selective on your guests for today’s housewarming party: excluding the rookies and then some, about most of the drivers for this year’s season were in attendance, including the very man who cheerfully poured and served your glass of Enchanté:

Your first seat, Daniel Ricciardo himself.

With Honda’s highly anticipated entry and with all eyes on you for being the only current female team principal, you knew you needed to make some bold and effective plays. While you were looking to utilize the promising potential within Leone Sasselli–a young, bright-eyed Swiss newcomer who excelled with top marks at Honda’s driving academy–, bringing back one of the most desired veteran drivers in the sport was among your top priority.

Though there was certainly value in the headlines that his comeback would create, you saw this ravening hunger to take to the wheel once again in his eyes when you initially met with him to discuss his desire to join the team.

And with subsequent negotiations going along smoothly without issue, you simply never caught on to the fact that the look of burning, longing desire in his gaze wasn’t reserved to only making his comeback.

From admiring the way your legs crossed as you sat across from him for his initial recruitment, how gorgeous you looked regardless of whether it was a formal press conference or an afterparty at the club, to just loving how your lips said his name while making him feel so wanted and needed back in the sport, Daniel longed and thirsted for you like nothing else.

Perhaps it was fitting that your current predicament started after drinking from the glass of wine that he handed you.

Dinner had long since been served and enjoyed, refreshments–courtesy of Daniel–free for anyone to take while basking in the elegant decor and luxurious amenities of your penthouse suite.

Aside from some help here and there by your first seat, you were playing solo as host for tonight, your body adorned in a breezy strapless summer gown as you mingled among your handsome guests. Eagerly listening in on Lewis’s and Carlos’s recent brush with Hollywood at the likes of The Met Gala and Cannes Film Festival, comparing the conversations between the chatty chaos of Alex, George and Lando to the tranquil talks of Max and Charles, taking in the tales of starring in a Netflix movie with Esteban and filming for commercials for Givenchy with Pierre, to beckoning over Lance and Fernando out forth from whichever wall they had rooted themselves against.

As for Daniel, he was making sure there was a drink in hand for everyone.

Alcohol flowed–for Lewis, a bottle of Almave was specifically prepared by your first seat–and lips loosened just before, in your case, balance tumbled.

Plus, with a brand new pair of heels that you had yet to break in, it was inevitable that you would fall forward after a drunken misstep.

Thankfully Daniel was ready to catch you, sparing you from an embarrassing plummet down to the sleek marble floor of your living room.

You parted your lips, smiling at him with inebriated reverie as you prepared to praise him as your savior.

Yet as his eyes sniped down to your chest while his hand ghosted along your hip through your dress as he steadied you up, the words he then exclaimed were nothing short of villainous.

“Boss, don’t tell me you’re already getting pay cuts in your first year that you can’t even afford a pair of bra and panties!”

You sobered up quick.

Almost shattering the glass in your hand.

And by the way that the room suddenly fell silent upon Daniel’s words, you were sure that everyone could hear the slight pressure you imposed on your cup.

Aghast, your eyes popped wide open while the heat on your cheeks deepened intensified from its drunken origins to sheer embarrassment as you squealed, “Daniel, what are you–?!”

Laughing jovially, he only proceeded to turn you around so you were facing the other drivers in the room, keeping one arm firmly around your waist while the other hand suspiciously rested upon the top of your dress.

“I’m just helping you break the ice, boss. Talking to every single guy here while I see you fidgeting with your dress, hoping for somebody to notice that you’re commando.” Letting out a sigh, he remarked, “I can’t stand seeing you pussyfoot around all night when I know what you really want.” 

As a grin that stretched from ear to ear cracked on his lips, he leaned forward to leave an affectionate kiss on your cheek while he retrieved your wine glass to set it aside upon a nearby shelf. “And that’s having every single man in this room absolutely devastate your pus–”

You instantly shrieked out loud with a squirm. “Daniel!”

“I get it, I get it,” he repeated with a click of his tongue. “Can’t be a groundbreaking female icon and a greedy needy slut at the same time.” Shaking his head with disdain, he continued, “Time Magazine wouldn’t wanna cover that.”

Daniel turned his head towards one side of the room, lifting his shoulder in a half-shrug. “Lewis, back me up here, man.”

Your attention immediately followed the direction of his gaze in hopes of salvation from this situation.

Instead, Lewis merely raised his glass of Almave towards you as he sheepishly smiled. “Gonna have to unfortunately agree with him, lovely.”

The co-sign from Sir Hamilton himself in front of his fellow drivers had you feeling even more exposed and flustered than before.

If he was in agreement, then who else–

Both of Daniel’s arms proceeded to fully embrace you, shifting you from side to side as he cheerfully proclaimed, “So yeah, it’s okay that you wanna smash the glass ceiling and get smashed by almost over half the grid at the same time, it’s okay! No judgement here!” He gazed out across the living room, smiling at every man in attendance as he pointed at each and every one of them, “Ain’t that right fellas? I know you’ve been eyeing her all night–can’t hide that shit from me!”

“Daniel Joseph Ricciardo, I swear–” The hiss you let out was interrupted by a snicker from Alex.

“Full name, huh? So those rumors of you two being especially close are true then.”

You shook your head vehemently amidst some of the shared laughter among the other drivers that soon followed. “That’s not–”

Stubbled chin resting on your bare shoulder, Daniel was all smiles as he affirmed, “Damn right. And it’s for this reason that I wanna do something nice for the lady who signs my check. So without further ado…”

Panic spiked through your nerves once as you felt his fingers ghost along the top of your dress, a squeak escaping you instantly as you could tell that the rest of the men in your living room were looking on with keen interest and growing desire.

Another kiss to your cheek before one was planted at the base of your neck. His voice lowering to a sultry coo, Daniel remarked, “Don’t be shy, boss. I knew the moment that I heard that all the youngins didn’t get an invite tonight that you were looking to have your fill of a more mature palate.”

A laugh escaping him, he continued, “I don’t see that darling lad Leone around but I sure as hell see Fernando.”

An amused snort escaped the aforementioned driver. “Ehh you’ll be seeing what I’ll do to your boss sooner than later.”

“Jesus Fernando,” was Lance’s immediate reaction amidst his laughter.

First Lewis, now Fernando.

With the exemplary example that the two oldest drivers in the room were setting, your stomach twisted but your heart fluttered as to what influence this would impose.

“All this talk about pussytoeing or whatever but no action, Daniel,” came about Max’s huffed sigh. “Are we going to keep discussing or are we going to actually get to do something, you horny bastard?”

There was your answer. 

And with more yearning stares trained your way, your knees were buckling as your thighs pressed together while you failed to resist against the growing ache between your legs.

“God I forgot how impatient you can be, Maxwell,” Daniel tsked with faux-admonishment before his attention redirected itself back towards you, his other hand proceeding to paw at your breasts as he hummed, “So how do you wanna go about this, boss? One by one, luck of the draw, some gentlemanly lovemaking or star in your own hardcore gangbang porno?”

The first action.

Not rough, but far from delicate. With Daniel’s hand groping you with such firm precision, you only shivered and fell further back against him as you savored his touch with a mewl, the answer of “anything” stuck in the back of your throat.

Daniel was laughing out loud with amusement while some of the other guys jeered with delight, even while the sensation of your nipples hardening through your dress beneath his palm was already making him eager to fuck you right then and there. “This is like the one time I’ve ever seen you so indecisive. No worries–I’ll go first then.”

Turning his attention back to everyone else, he declared with a smirk, “You fellas can join whenever.” As he shifted his gaze towards a familiar pair of green eyes however, he taunted, “You’re last though, Lando.”

“Oh fuck off, Daniel,” Lando snorted with a roll of his eyes, downing the last of his drink before slapping his glass down on your coffee table as he rose up in defiance. “I’m gonna devastate that pretty boss of yours until she’s preparing a contract for me.”

And so it began.

Just barely an hour before, you were having quaint conversations with your guests, graciously basking in their praise and wishes of goodwill to you and your team for the next season, to your career as you sought to help continue the momentum in bringing more women to the forefront of the sport.

Now you were quickly left debauched while subjected to their whims.

At first, it started off manageable, your lips left to be possessed by either Daniel’s or Lando’s while their hands joined in ripping off your dress before their fingers sought to explore and expose your body in full to the voyeuring eyes of the other drivers, whether toying with your nipples or delving into your cunt.

It only took the way you sighed and whined out both of their names while you melted beneath their touch that the rest of your guests either took initiative to make their way over to you or patiently enjoyed more wine until you were eventually passed along to their side of the room, all while clothes were soon discarded and dropped to the floor.

Earlier, when you were anticipating the arrival of the drivers, your decision to forgo any undergarments left you feeling giddy and on edge, your mind flashing to fantasies of being used as their personal toy just before you snorted and waved off the thought even as you doubled down on your decision to skip out on any bra or panties for the evening.

You genuinely couldn’t have imagined that your party would transpire like this.

Positioned on your knees, your eyes obscured by Daniel’s hands as he had you guess which man was currently fucking your mouth or having your hands stroke them off.

Every correct guess guaranteed that you would be fucked well to orgasm. Every error made was a guaranteed photo taken on someone else’s phone–a memento of such an esteemed female trailblazer at her naughtiest.

You were set to fail.

Already overwhelmed by being at the center of such an outrageous fantasy turned reality, with over 10 candidates to guess from, as you were made to adjust your jaw to accommodate the girth of whichever cock was stuffing your mouth while you had one leaky tip smear your cheek with precum as another stained your hand, there was no way you would be able to guess properly.

In this case, it was Pierre, Lance, and Lando who claimed victory, prideful satisfaction evident on their faces with the shuttering flash of their phone cameras as they beheld the sight of your pretty face painted with their cum as you gulped down their respective orgasms.

The next instance drew inspiration from your housewarming party itself, with both Daniel and Lewis hosting a special taste test: a pour of Enchanté and Almave right upon your breasts for anyone to come and compare.

Ever in the spirit of teamwork, it was Alex and Carlos who rose up to the challenge, their lips latching onto your nipples for earnest suckles, mouths and tongues hungry to kiss and lick away any trace of wine from your breasts until they were clean.

Afterwards, your physical endurance was put to the test as you found yourself hanging onto the likes of Esteban and George as you were passed between the two, both taking turns lifting you up into their arms as they hammered their cocks into your cunt, enjoying the way your legs hugged their waists.

Of course, while there was harmony and cooperation, you couldn’t have a gathering of these drivers without competition flaring.

After all, being made to latch onto Charles’s shoulders with a squeal as he plunged his cock into your cunt from beneath you while Max was stuffing your ass full with his dick had you truly feeling the brunt of their rivalry.

And given that this whole situation spiraled further given the respective co-sign from two of the oldest men in attendance, you were left in a pleasured heap on your floor while you were mounted by either Fernando or Lewis, both plowing away until the amount of times your core and ass were leaking messily with their cum surpassed that of anyone else who had a turn with you thus far. 

You couldn’t be happier.

From having once waved off the idea of getting to indulge in such lasciviousness as mere foolishness, you were used to having so much attention on you for your ability to lead.

Now, after the sheer debauchery you were treated to all night long, it was utterly satisfying to have all eyes on you for your ability to please a man.

At this moment, it was Daniel.

Seated on his lap as you obediently bounced away on his cock, your legs parted wide while he groped your breast from behind as he worked his fingers over your clit, you were happy to show gratitude for the initiative he displayed on your behalf.

While his lips kissed and bit at your neck, he rasped out, “Come on, boss. I gotta show why you signed me in the first place, right?”

The sudden snap of his hips and the careful press of his fingertips upon your clit was all it took for you to orgasm messily with a sharp cry at that instant, the gush of your release flooding forth much to the amusement of your party guests, all with phones out at the ready for photos and videos.

As you fell back against his chest in dazed bliss, your body was at conflict between wanting to bask in the afterglow and craving for even more pleasure.

A decision would have to wait however, given the sudden ring at your front door that had you startled while your guests looked at one another in confusion.

Even Daniel didn’t seem to anticipate sudden presence. “Yo Lando, did you invite Oscar or something?”

“The hell, I’m not his keeper–”

An index finger popped up. 

“Ahh I can answer that,” George suddenly chimed with a laugh. His twinkling blue eyes gazing at yours, he then winked while reaching for his dress shirt to hand towards you. “Though I believe it’s best if you go, beautiful.”

Though confused as ever, you did as told as you stood up from Daniel’s lap to slip on George’s shirt, doing your best to cover yourself up while you stepped over towards the entrance to your home.

Upon opening the front door, you were immediately face-to-face with a simple yet outrageously expensive yet simple pale blue button-up shirt.

Your eyes proceeded to trail up.

And up.

All towards the shadow that loomed above.

Your jaw went slack as your eyes widened with shock.

“To–”

A thick, calloused finger hushed your lips as an accented baritone voice greeted,

“I was planning on visiting another day but I got a text from George that this was a party not to be missed.”

Of all times to suddenly have team principal solidarity with–

You were met with light laughter as your disheveled state was inspected. “I can definitely see he is right.”

Big hands rested on your shoulders before you were turned around with ease, guiding you on ahead to rejoin the others once more while a pair of lips fell by your ear in a husky murmur.

“Please allow me to join the others in welcoming you to the circuit further, schatzi.”

————————-

this was supposed to be about lonely mrs wolff housewife saucy shenanigans but ALAS 😭

also to gently address the australian elephant in the paddock i got nothing against oscar but my rpf cutoff is up to the birth year of 1999 🙇‍♀️

thank you for reading!!! i may be opening requests in sometime esp since it’s summer so it’s time to 💦

[ijustwannabecool]

It’s Just a Word, Right?

Lewis Hamilton x wife!reader

Summary... After a chaotic doubleheader weekend, Lewis returns home ready to unwind. But when their son repeats a word from the paddock at school, it sparks a parenting clash that cuts deeper than expected.

✩ ⋆ ✩ ⋆ ✩ ⋆ ✩

The smell of dinner hits Lewis before he’s even stepped out of the car.

It’s been two races back-to-back; Imola and Monaco. He flew home straight from debrief, wearing the same Ferrari jacket he left the circuit in. There’s still engine grease under his nails and a faint scuff mark on his cheek from a chaotic media pen scrum.

He’s not even through the front door when Sofia barrels into his legs, arms wrapped around him, curls wild and still a little sticky with honey.

“Hi, Daddy!”

Lewis lifts her easily, pressing a kiss to her cheek as Y/N calls from the kitchen, “Wash your hands first! Dinner’s just about done!”

Leo and Mateo are already at the table, perched in their chairs with plates of rice, roasted chicken, and steamed veggies in front of them. Y/N is cutting up Sofia’s portion, still dressed in her tank and joggers, looking like home.

Everything feels right.

Until Leo opens his mouth.

“I don’t want any more fucking broccoli.”

Silence.

Y/N freezes mid-slice.

Lewis pauses, mid-hand-wash, eyes flicking to his son with disbelief. He almost laughs. Almost.

“Leo,” Y/N says, voice sharp, calm, but barely.

Leo shrugs, poking a carrot with his fork. “Uncle Toto said it when he dropped the sandwich.”

Lewis chokes on air.

Y/N’s eyes laser in on him like she’s about to start qualifying laps around his ass. “Uncle Toto said it?”

Lewis wipes his hands on a dish towel, walking toward the table slowly. “Babe, c’mon, Toto probably did say it. I’ve heard him swear in six languages.”

“I don’t care if he said it in Morse code. Our son just said it at the dinner table,” she snaps.

Lewis crouches down beside Leo, trying to keep his tone light. “Where’d you hear that, really, bud?”

Leo looks up at him, completely unbothered. “The garage. You said it when the rear jack didn’t lock.”

Y/N doesn’t say a word. She doesn’t need to.

Lewis sighs. “Okay. That one’s on me.”

“It’s always on you,” she mutters under her breath, gathering up the juice cups.

Leo starts chewing on a breadstick like it’s no big deal, but Mateo whispers, “You’re in trouble.”

Sofia nods solemnly beside him, eyes wide.

“We don’t say that word, baby,” Y/N says gently to Leo, crouching to his level. “Not at school, not at home, not anywhere. It’s not kind.”

“But Daddy says it all the time,” Leo says, frowning. “You do too when your computer crashes.”

Y/N blinks.

Lewis snorts and instantly masks it with a cough.

“Oh my God, don’t laugh,” she says, shooting him a glare. “You’re the reason he told his whole class the brake pedal was ‘fucking toast.’ Do you know how many calls I got?”

“It was toast,” Lewis defends. “I almost put the car into the wall at 305 KPH an hour because someone didn’t torque the—”

“Lewis.” Her voice is warning enough.

He stands, frustrated but biting his tongue. “It’s a word. He didn’t hit anyone. He didn’t steal anything. He just... he just repeated something I said. I’ll talk to him.”

“You’re not getting it.”

“No, babe, you’re not getting it.” His voice sharpens. “They already live in a world where everyone watches them because of me. I just want them to feel normal, not like they’re walking on eggshells every time they say something wrong.”

Y/N’s jaw tightens. “And you think letting them swear is normal?”

“I think letting them be kids is normal.”

“You want them to be kids, or you just want to feel better about the fact you barely see them two weekends a month during the season?”

It slips. She doesn’t mean for it to. But it cuts through him like a wing mirror shattering.

Lewis stiffens. Silence falls again.

Sofia stabs a carrot with her little fork. “Mummy’s mad.”

Leo nods. “Like when the blender exploded.”

Lewis just walks away, back into the hallway, jaw clenched. He doesn't slam the door. Doesn’t yell.

He just sits on the stairs for a second. Breathing.

Two minutes later, Y/N follows, guilt already rising in her throat like a lump of gravel.

“I didn’t mean that,” she says quietly, sitting beside him.

Lewis doesn’t look at her. “Maybe you did.”

She places her hand on his knee. “I get frustrated. But you’re a good dad, Lew. The best. I just want to raise them right. Not like we were.”

Lewis finally looks at her. His voice is quieter now. “I want that too.”

They sit like that for a moment. Side by side.

From the kitchen, a sudden giggle erupts.

“Fuck, fuck, fuck!”

“Mateo!” Y/N yells.

Lewis sighs. “Oh, come on.”

“I will end you,” she says, already getting up.

He catches her hand before she storms off, and grins, sheepish. “Still want to kiss me later?”

She glares. “Wash your mouth out with soap first.”

-------

flashback

It was years ago.

Pre-kids. Pre-marriage. Pre-Ferrari red. Just a messy hotel room in Monaco, the scent of champagne in the air, and Lewis Hamilton flat on his back, one arm draped over his eyes.

Y/N stood by the open window, robe half-tied, eyes on the Riviera lights below.

“You ever think about kids?” she asked, barely above the hum of traffic and late-night waves.

Lewis didn’t answer right away. She turned and saw it in his face, tension. Not the kind he got before a race, but the kind that lived in the cracks of a past he never talked about much.

He lowered his arm. “Not really.”

She climbed into bed beside him, soft and slow, tracing a finger down the lion tattoo on his chest. “Why not?”

He looked at her then, eyes dark and serious. “Because I wouldn’t know how to be a dad. Not a real one.”

“You had one.”

“Exactly.”

Silence.

Then he added, quieter, “I don’t want to be the kind of father I had. Detached. Controlling. The guy who showed up to take credit but never stayed long enough to do the work.”

Y/N rested her head on his chest. “Then don’t be.”

“It’s not that simple.”

“It is. Love them more than you hate the way you were raised. That’s how you break it.”

He closed his eyes, breathing her in like she was the only real thing in the world. “I don’t want to mess up a kid.”

She kissed his chest. “Then maybe don’t have one with just anyone.”

Lewis huffed a laugh, eyes opening. “What, and have one with you?”

She smiled. “You’d be lucky.”

He wrapped his arms around her tightly, burying his face in her hair. “Don’t tempt me.”

---------

The house was quiet.

The kids were finally asleep. Mateo tucked in with his dinosaur nightlight, Sofia curled up with a plush lion, and Leo sprawled across his bed like he fought demons in his sleep.

Y/N padded into the ensuite bathroom, her hair pulled into a loose bun, a soft cotton robe tied around her waist. She was brushing her teeth when she felt Lewis’s presence before she saw him.

His reflection met hers in the mirror, shirtless, boxers riding low on his hips, tattoos stark in the dim bathroom lighting.

“You still mad?” he asked, voice low and rough.

She spit into the sink, rinsed her mouth, and turned. “A little.”

Lewis stepped closer, caging her in with one hand on the counter behind her. “Want me to make it up to you?”

She didn’t answer, just raised an eyebrow.

“I mean,” he murmured, lips brushing her cheek, “I could wash my mouth out with soap… or I could use it on you.”

That did it.

Y/N shoved his chest, half-laughing, half-annoyed, but he caught her wrist mid-push, twisting it gently until her back hit the bathroom counter.

Lewis leaned in, lips grazing her jaw. “You love when I’m like this.”

“You’re a menace,” she whispered, but her thighs were already squeezing together.

“I’m your menace.”

He kissed her slow at first, maddeningly so. Then his hands were on her hips, sliding her robe open, parting the fabric until it slipped from her shoulders and pooled on the tile.

Lewis sank to his knees without a word, palms dragging down her sides until they gripped behind her thighs.

“Still want to punish me?” he asked, looking up at her from under those lashes.

She smirked. “Only if you beg.”

He grinned. “Bet.”

--------

The bathroom lights are still on, casting a soft glow into the bedroom where they’ve ended up, a trail of clothes and discarded thoughts leading from one room to the next.

Y/N is sprawled across Lewis’s chest, her cheek pressed to the lion ink she’s always loved, the one she used to trace when she was just his girlfriend sneaking into hotel rooms under fake names.

His fingers draw slow circles on her back, steady and grounding.

“Still mad at me?” he asks, voice low and rough with the edges of sleep.

Y/N hums. “Not really. You were right… kind of.”

“Kind of?” he repeats, smiling.

“You’re a good dad, Lew.”

He doesn’t respond right away. He just holds her tighter, like if he doesn’t, she might vanish. Then he speaks, quiet and real.

“I always thought I’d mess this up,” he says. “I used to tell myself I didn’t want a family because I couldn’t handle it. Because the paddock was my whole life, and anything outside of it felt… far.”

Y/N lifts her head to look at him, eyes soft. “And now?”

He gazes at her. “Now it feels like the rest of my life is the time between coming home to you.”

Something about the way he says it makes her chest ache.

Lewis continues, almost like he needs to get it out. “I don’t know what I’m doing half the time. I still panic when they cry too hard. I still think I’ll say the wrong thing. But I love them. God, I love them.”

“They know,” she says. “Every time you hug them, every time you show up, even when you’re exhausted. They know.”

Lewis swallows hard. “Sometimes I think about that night in Monaco. You remember?”

“The one with the robe and the champagne?”

“Yeah,” he says, smiling. “I said I’d never be a dad. Said I’d ruin a kid.”

Y/N brushes her fingers along his cheek. “And now you’ve got three who think the sun rises because you told it to.”

His laugh is quiet. A little broken. Full of disbelief.

She kisses him gently, murmuring against his lips, “You didn’t ruin anything, Lew. You built this. You built us.”

They lie in silence for a while, nothing but the hum of the house and the softness between them.

Then he whispers, “You’re still a bitch, though.”

Y/N laughs, swats at his chest, and lets herself fall back into him with a sigh. “Yeah, well. You married one.”

“And I’d do it again tomorrow.”

--------

The end.

[rex-rambles]

➤ HOMEMAKER | LEWIS HAMILTON

summary: if your past relationships have taught you anything, you'll never be a homemaker, as hard as you try - so what do you do when lewis comes home to you? (inspired by 'homemaker' by next of kin)

pairing: lewis hamilton x celebrity!reader

wc: 1.8 k

warnings: angst with a happy ending, discussions of negative past relationships

➤ MASTERLIST

You had gotten used to silence. 

It didn't matter that you had adoring fans, or paparazzi trailing you, photoshoots or interviews, when you were alone, you were silent. That's how it always seemed to be, anyway. 

You don't know how many nights you'd sat like this, not saying a word as you're curled up at the end of some guy's couch. Sometimes, you had a book. Sometimes, you had a mug of tea or coffee, clothes actually put away in drawers or closets.

Other times you were just passing through. 

You don't know how many nights you'd sat like this, phone left on the table in front of you, waiting for that text, that call, anything. It always started out sweet, the messages, the compliments, only to turn to silence in a few months time. If you had a dollar for every night you spent like this, you could buy an island somewhere far away to be silent in, but instead, you waste your time and your money on the rare chance that they come through in the end. 

They never do.

In your fantasies, they're knights in shining armour, who come home with flowers or a surprise dinner, but even you couldn't fool yourself sometimes. You don't think any of the guys you'd seen have ever fantasized about you in that way, either, because you already did it. You showed up, you planned surprises, you played the role of the loving, doting partner. 

Yet, despite it all, you weren't a homemaker at the end of the day. It wasn't even like you were trying to be some stay-at-home spouse, you just wanted a relationship that was real, that lasted, that you could call home.

But, no matter how much time, or energy, or god forbid love you put into a relationship, it didn't last. In the end, it seemed that you just housed people who liked you break your heart. Men saw a star, something to chase, but never keep. Marriage was never in the cards, something long, something stable either. There was a time you used to dream about it, of actually settling down and finding enough love somewhere to marry someone, but now, you'd seen the worst of enough men to be content with silence, with not throwing your life away for them. 

It didn't stop you from curling up on strangers' couches, or watching your phone. 

It just made it that much more pitiful. 

"God," Lewis's voice makes you jump, mug of tea rocking forward and spilling onto his probably ridiculously expensive carpet. Penthouse guys always splashed out on whatever cost the most, even if it didn't look good. "Shit, sorry babe." 

"Shit," You echo somewhat numbly, trying to rise to find something to clean it up with, and Lewis waves a hand, moving from the open front door to the kitchen, and you can't help but stare at it. 

The hallway is brightly lit at all hours, casting a warm glow into the darkened apartment. It's like a little glimpse into whatever heaven Lewis had come from, and you spare a glance at your phone on the table, no message waiting for you. You'd surprised him, by being here, and he'd surprised you by showing up.

Lewis returns with a roll of paper towel, dropping to your feet to try and pat down the carpet, and he spares a glance up at you. "What are you still doing up?" He asks, before noticing the door is open. "Can you get that for me?" 

"I was going to wait to see if you made it in on time." You answer as you slowly move to the door, pulling Lewis's luggage aside as you close it, casting the apartment in darkness again. For some reason, you can't bring yourself to turn any lights on, so you stand in the little front hall, staring at the shadows of Lewis as he does a fairly poor job of cleaning. 

"It's so late," He says, finally rising with his hands full of soaked paper towel. "You should be in bed. You should be at home." 

"I can go." Most didn't want you to stay, anyway. Some liked this little gesture, of waiting up for them, surprising them with their favourite, back home treats after long periods away, but you'd only been going out with Lewis for a month or two now. It might be overstepping, or it might just be another sign of commitment you can never have. 

"No, no." Lewis says, throwing the paper towel away in the kitchen and flicking on the overhead island light. It was a soft kind of glow that made Lewis seem that much warmer, and the dark that much farther from him. "I gave you the key for a reason, but it's almost 2 AM. You're going to ruin your sleep schedule." 

You move forward to stand in the shadows of the living room, wrapping your arms around his oversized shirt you'd adopted to sleep in for the past few days. "You're one to talk," You try to tease, though it doesn't quite reach your voice. "How many time zones have you gone through this week?" 

"That's different." Lewis says, coming to stand before you. His hands are gentle on your waist, pulling you close to him. "You really stayed up? For me?" 

"Even got those brownies you like from that bakery." You say, gesturing to the kitchen counter. Lewis glances over and a warm laugh bubbles out of him, echoing off the walls. Your hands come to smooth against his chest, as if to feel that he's actually there. It wouldn't last, history tells you. He'd be this sweet, for so long, and then he'd go. 

"Great minds think alike, hm?" Lewis moves to grab one of his bags, and he fishes out a somewhat crumpled container that he hands to you, a logo embossed on the top that you'd recognize anywhere. "There was that cookie place you liked, and I had a layover. I was going to surprise you with them tomorrow, but you sort of beat me to that." 

You slowly take the cookies in hand, and silence rests over you once more. 

It was a regional bakery, a place you talked about loving as a kid. No one ever really cared about it, it was just a sweet story to share over desserts to make people think you had something to talk about. You spare a glance back up at Lewis, who smiles softly back down at you, and neither of you says a word. 

You had gotten used to silence, but you didn't know how to break it. You didn't know how to vocalize that he'd remembered, that, cracking open the top, he'd even gotten the flavour right, that he went out of his way to get them for you. You don't know how to think about this as anything other than doomed, but all the signs keep saying otherwise. 

Gently, Lewis's hand comes up to cradle your cheek, turning it so it's more in the light of the kitchen. "Are you alright?" He asks quietly, "Tired?" 

"I-" All words die on your tongue. You didn't know how to be anything other than what the world wanted to see of you, of a star with their equally famous partner, of being too much or not enough, never going anywhere. Every relationship had been some kind of car wreck, wheels spinning uselessly as you tried to move forward when all they wanted to do was press on the break. 

You didn't know how to love Lewis. You just knew how to pretend.

"You can tell me, you know." He says, letting his hand drop. "You've always got this look on your face, like you're so far away. Is it me?"

"You?" You manage to get out softly, "No." 

"Don't say 'it's me, not you'," Lewis says, leaning in to press a kiss to your forehead. "Give me something real." 

"You didn't text." You find yourself saying, and Lewis pulls back with a knowing look. 

"Didn't want to wake you. But this isn't about that, because you told me just yesterday I don't have to check in all the time." He moves forward until you hit his couch, and easily he lifts you up to sit on the back of it, cookie box now resting in your lap, and he leans his arms on either side of your legs. "So? You making up reasons to leave?" 

Maybe. You stare down at the open box of cookies, and as honestly as you can, you try to explain the strange sort of pulling feeling at your heart. "Most guys don't text. When they go out, or when they travel, it's just radio silence. They give me a time, and I stay up, and they don't show." 

"Most guys?" 

"You know my reputation, Lewis." It was every other headline, every other blurry photo. You were the one they called a heartbreaker, despite the fact you were the one who wanted these things to work out. "I'm not exactly a homemaker." It's not that you didn't try, that despite it all you wanted to have the perfect relationship, but that they didn't let you. "Men come into my life, and for a blissful moment, I convince myself it'll work out, and it never does. No one's getting down on one knee, no one's remembering anniversaries, they just leave. Because of me." 

"That's not because of you." Lewis tries to defend, and you shake your head. 

"It is." It's a gallant thought, to try and defend you like that, but at this point there is only one part of this equation that remains the same: you. "I'm too famous, or I'm not famous enough. I'm too clingy, or I don't care about their art. I'm too far away, I can't travel, I'm just not enough. And you didn't text." 

Lewis moves one hand to gently graze the side of your thigh, gently rubbing his thumb in circles. "So you didn't expect me to walk through that door. That's why I scared you." 

"I get their apartments all nice and ready, change the sheets, pick up a favourite of theirs, get a text about it the next day and they repay me for it with a fancy dinner to make us both feel less guilty." You admit, suddenly far too close to Lewis to stop.  "And you showed up. You remembered. Why?" 

"Why?" Lewis echoes, sounding rather surprised by the question. "Because it meant something to you." 

"No." No, it didn't mean something to you, that's not how your partners have ever thought. It had to mean something to them, a bribe, something to ease the guilt, something to help them, not you. "It meant something to you." 

"Yeah, you mean something to me." The words force the air from your lungs, and Lewis leans forward to gently press his forehead to yours. Maybe it was that he was a British gentleman, maybe that he was a different kind of a celebrity, maybe that he was older, but he was different, and you didn't know what to do with that. "I guess I've been out of the dating pool too long," He jokes softly under his breath, "Seems like the world has lost their minds." 

You try your best to laugh, a small, sad thing, and Lewis pulls back to stare at you in a way you fantasized about for years. "Lewis," You finally manage to say, "I...I don't know what to do with all this."

"You don't have to. Just let me care for you." Maybe that was how love worked, after all.

You didn't have to know how to do it, or how it worked, but rather, you just tried your best to care for those who meant something to you.

Lewis's arms come under your knees as he scoops you up, carrying you bridal style toward his bedroom, and for the first time, in a long time, you think that this might last. "And to begin, that means getting us to bed." 

a/n: LISTEN TO NEXT OF KIN!! Homemaker and Jekyll and Hyde are my favourites

[rubywillkins]

First time| Oneshots

Charles Leclerc, Lewis Hamilton, Lando Norris, Oscar Piastri, Arthur Leclerc, Paul Aron, Franco Colapinto, Max Verstappen, Carlos Sainz

Charles Leclerc|

A first time born from tension and emotional jealousy. When Charles loves, it’s never halfway — it’s everything.

“Nothing goes as planned, everything will break. People say goodbye in their own special way.”

“You’re in my veins and I cannot get you out.”

The soft hum of the city beyond the balcony faded into the background, the golden lights of Monaco casting a warm glow across Charles’ apartment. It was late, the kind of hour where time slowed down and everything felt quieter, softer—more honest.

Y/N stood in one of Charles’ shirts, sleeves too long and hem brushing her thighs. Her fingers twisted nervously in the fabric as she stared out at the skyline. She could hear him moving behind her—closing the kitchen cabinet, placing two mugs on the coffee table. His steps were always light, respectful. Like he never wanted to startle her. Like he always thought about how she felt first.

“You okay?” his voice was gentle behind her, low and close.

She nodded but didn’t turn around. “Just… thinking.”

He came up behind her, his hands finding her waist, grounding her. “About?”

She leaned back into him, letting her eyes flutter closed at the feel of his arms around her. “Us.”

Charles didn’t ask more. He waited.

“I’ve never felt this safe with anyone,” she said, voice quiet. “It’s… terrifying.”

He rested his chin on her shoulder. “Why terrifying?”

“Because it feels like if I let go, you’d ruin me in the most beautiful way.”

Charles was silent for a beat. Then, his lips brushed her temple. “Je ne veux que te soigner. I only want to care for you, mon amour.”

Later, the apartment was dim—the only light coming from the faint flicker of the fireplace and the soft glimmer of the stars through the window. They lay on the bed, sheets rumpled, the world outside forgotten.

Charles touched her like she was something rare, something precious—slowly, reverently. He didn’t rush. Not once.

“Are you sure?” he whispered, brushing a piece of hair from her face as he hovered over her, breath warm and sweet.

“I’ve never been more sure,” she said, meeting his eyes. Her voice didn’t shake.

He kissed her like she was air and he’d gone too long without breathing. His hands explored gently, never grabbing, never taking. Just learning her. Worshipping her.

The way he looked at her—like she was the only thing that existed—made her chest ache in the best way.

“You're beautiful,” he murmured against her skin, between kisses down her neck and across her collarbone. “Inside. Outside. All of it. I’ve never wanted anything more than I want this to feel good for you.”

And it did. Every second with him felt sacred.

He was slow at first, watching her closely, checking in with every motion. She tangled her fingers in his hair and nodded, wordlessly telling him to keep going, that she trusted him with everything she had.

When their bodies finally became one, it wasn’t just about physical pleasure—it was about the emotion spilling from every breath, every movement.

He whispered her name like a prayer. Held her like he never wanted to let go. Their foreheads pressed together as their breaths tangled in the small space between them.

“I love you,” she whispered, her voice cracking slightly.

His eyes fluttered open—glassy, vulnerable. “I love you too. So much it scares me.”

After, he didn’t pull away. He stayed close, arms wrapped around her, hand gently tracing the length of her back. They lay there tangled together, warm and safe beneath the sheets.

“You okay?” he asked, softly, brushing her hair back to see her face.

She smiled sleepily. “More than okay.”

He kissed her again—slow, lazy, like he had all the time in the world.

“Bonne nuit, mon cœur,” he whispered. “Thank you for trusting me.”

And she knew, without a doubt, that there was nowhere safer than in his arms.

Lewis Hamilton|

Mature. Intentional. Worshipful. Lewis doesn’t just take — he gives, and makes you feel like you’re the only one.

“You make it look like it's magic... I love when you're on your knees.”

“You deserve it... the way you work it.”

The first time wasn’t planned.

No grand gesture. No Paris getaway. No dramatic thunderstorm or candlelight cliché.

It happened on a quiet Sunday evening. His apartment was dim and peaceful, the kind of soft that only came after a long week and a shared silence you didn’t need to fill. Rain tapped against the windows, and the vinyl player murmured something low and soulful — Otis Redding, maybe. You were curled up on the couch in one of his hoodies, legs pulled into your chest, head on a pillow that smelled like cedarwood and him.

Lewis was sitting on the floor, back against the couch, your hand lazily resting in his hair as he scrolled through an old notebook. It was worn, edges frayed. You could see scribbles of song lyrics, quiet thoughts, maybe prayers — you didn’t ask. He didn’t mind you seeing. That in itself was intimacy.

“Do you believe in timing?” he asked suddenly, closing the notebook and turning so his chin rested on your thigh.

Your fingers slowed in his curls. “I think I used to believe in bad timing. Now I think… the right people make time irrelevant.”

Lewis smiled faintly, his eyes staying on yours a little longer. “That’s exactly what I’ve been trying to put into words.”

A beat passed.

Then he said, softer, “I want you tonight. Not just physically. I want all of you. But only if it’s what you want too.”

You sat up a little, pulse fluttering for reasons deeper than nerves. His honesty — the way he always asked, never assumed — grounded you.

“I’ve never felt safer with anyone than I do with you,” you said. “I want this. But only if it feels like us.”

He leaned in slowly, giving you every chance to change your mind. And when your lips met, it wasn’t fireworks. It was warmth. Steady, aching, real.

You moved to the bedroom together like a slow unraveling. His hand rested on the small of your back as he led you in, and then he paused, brushing his fingers over your jaw.

“Tell me if I need to stop,” he whispered. “You owe me nothing, alright?”

You nodded, pressing your forehead to his. “Same goes for you.”

Lewis kissed you again — slower this time, deeper, more searching. It was as if he needed to memorize every breath, every shift of your body. His hands moved over you like he was trying to learn your language by touch. Reverent. Focused. Gentle.

When he undressed you, it wasn’t just undressing — it was unveiling. He looked at you like you were art. Like being known was something sacred.

“You’re breathtaking,” he murmured, brushing a kiss just beneath your breast. “Not because of how you look, but because I get to see you like this.”

He took his time. Made sure you were the center of everything. Every kiss, every stroke of his fingers, every press of his body was for you. No rushing. No demands. Just presence.

There was no need for dirty talk — not tonight. Instead, he whispered things like:

“You don’t have to hide any part of yourself with me.”

“Let go. I’ve got you.”

“You're doing so well, baby.”

And the way he looked at you while you came undone beneath him? Like it was the most beautiful thing he’d ever witnessed.

After, Lewis didn’t move away. He stayed tangled with you under the sheets, one arm snug around your waist, his lips brushing your shoulder every now and then.

You were still catching your breath when he spoke.

“I didn’t know it could feel like this. Like something bigger than us was in the room.”

You turned to face him, eyes soft. “Because it’s not just sex. It’s trust.”

Lewis smiled — slow, tired, completely in love.

“Yeah,” he murmured. “And I’ve never trusted anyone like I trust you.”

He pulled you close again, wrapping your leg over his. “Sleep here. Don’t go. Not just tonight — I mean… all the nights. Stay with me.”

And with your heart pressed to his, your body wrapped in the safest arms you’d ever known, you knew: this wasn’t just a first time.

It was the beginning of everything.

Arthur Leclerc|

A first time after a fight, when passion collides with care. Arthur doesn’t just want you — he needs you.

“Nobody loves you, baby, the way I do.”

“I think I’m gonna lose my mind, something deep inside me I can’t give up.”

The apartment was quiet, bathed in the pale orange glow of a late afternoon sun slipping past the curtains. Arthur’s hoodie hung off your frame as you leaned against the kitchen counter, barefoot, holding a half-finished cup of tea. He sat on the couch across from you, legs splayed out, hair a little messy, watching you like you were his favorite song playing softly in the background.

You’d spent the day doing nothing — watching half a movie, sharing popcorn, falling asleep on his chest — but something hung in the air now. Something unspoken. Something that felt like a question.

He tilted his head, eyes following the shape of your mouth as you smiled at something you didn’t say out loud.

“You’re doing it again,” you said, voice playful.

“Doing what?” he smirked, like he already knew.

“Looking at me like that.”

Arthur got up slowly, padding across the living room until he stood in front of you. His fingers brushed your hips gently. He always touched you like he was making sure you were real.

“Can I be honest?” he asked, voice soft, almost too soft.

You nodded. He exhaled a little.

“I’ve been thinking about it. Us. Like… taking that step.”

You blinked, heart skipping. Not because you didn’t want it — you did. But hearing it from him, spoken with such sincerity, made your stomach flutter.

He continued, rubbing a thumb gently across your side. “I don’t want it to be just a moment. I want it to be ours. Like, something we’ll remember when we’re old and grey and annoying.”

You laughed, but it cracked a little.

“You’re not nervous?” you asked.

“Oh, I’m terrified,” he admitted. “But it’s not because I don’t want it. I just— I want to do this right. For you. With you.”

You kissed him first. And it wasn’t perfect — your teeth bumped, your noses awkwardly collided — but you both laughed into it, and that somehow made it better. It was you and Arthur. Real and a little messy and completely full of love.

When he laid you down on the bed, it wasn’t rushed. His hands were shaky. His breath uneven. He kissed your shoulders. Your stomach. The inside of your wrist.

“You don’t have to be perfect,” you whispered, as if reading his mind. “I just want you.”

His eyes met yours — wide, brown, and glassy — and he kissed you again, deeper this time, less hesitant. He took his time undressing you, making sure to look at you after every step, asking without asking: Still okay? Still want this?

And when it finally happened — when he pressed into you, forehead against yours, your hands clutching the fabric of his shirt — it was slow. Careful. Bare.

Neither of you spoke much, except for the soft, breathless murmurs:

“You feel so good, baby…”

“Am I hurting you?”

“You’re so beautiful. I can’t believe you’re mine.”

You both trembled a little when it ended. He didn’t pull away — just curled into your side, legs tangled, nose nuzzling your neck.

“You’re incredible,” he whispered. “Like… I don’t think I’ll ever forget how this felt.”

You smiled into his hair. “Me either.”

And when he looked up at you, cheeks flushed and eyes warm, you knew it wasn’t just the first time. It was the start of something—safe, deep, and entirely yours.

Lando Norris|

Playful on the outside. Intense underneath. Lando wants to make it special — even if he pretends he doesn’t care.

“You don't have to say nothing, ’cause your eyes do the talking.”

“I can't imagine what I'd do without you.”

You’d been dating for months — the kind of relationship that started with teasing and laughter and slowly bloomed into something neither of you saw coming.

Lando had kissed you with Red Bull on his lips. Held your hand under the table at team dinners. Called you “trouble” every time you wore his hoodie and looked better in it than he did. But you knew — underneath the jokes, the flirting, the cocky one-liners — was a boy who didn’t give his heart away easily.

And yet… somehow, he gave it to you.

It happened after a long day. You were both curled up on his sofa in Monaco, the storm outside soft and rhythmic against the windows. A movie played in the background, but neither of you was watching it. Lando’s hand was under your shirt — not in a way that demanded anything, just resting on your waist, fingertips tracing your skin absentmindedly.

You shifted, resting your head against his chest. His heart was beating fast. You felt it. Heard it.

“What’s going on in that curly-haired head of yours?” you teased gently.

Lando hesitated. You could feel his body tense, just slightly. That wasn’t like him. Usually, he'd hit you with a sarcastic quip. Instead, he spoke quietly, into your hair.

“I’ve never done this the right way,” he said.

You lifted your head. “Done what?”

“This,” he gestured softly between you. “Us. Loving someone and meaning it.”

Your chest tightened.

“I don’t want to rush you,” he continued. “But I want you. All of you. Just when you’re ready.”

You cupped his face. “What if I already am?”

His eyes darkened for a second — not with lust, but with something softer. Emotion. Like he didn’t quite believe you could feel the same depth that he did.

“Then I’ll be careful with you,” he whispered.

In the bedroom, the air shifted. The jokes stopped. His hands trembled slightly as they slid under your shirt. He kissed you like it was his first time too — even though it wasn’t. Because it was you. That made it different.

Lando’s usual cockiness faded the moment you were beneath him. “Tell me if you don’t want to,” he murmured, pressing soft kisses down your chest. “I’ll stop. Seriously. No jokes. Just say the word.”

You reached up and pulled him down to kiss you. “Lando,” you said against his lips, “I want you.”

That was all it took.

He took his time. Every motion was slow, deliberate. He traced his fingers over your stomach, your thighs, your cheeks — as if trying to memorize you, not just touch you.

“Still okay?” he asked, forehead pressed to yours.

You nodded.

“You’re so pretty like this,” he whispered. “So damn good to me.”

When he finally eased into you, he cursed under his breath, but not out of pleasure — out of awe. His hands clenched the sheets beside your head, like he needed to keep himself grounded.

“You feel like home,” he breathed. “That’s insane, right?”

You smiled, brushing your thumb over his jaw. “No. It’s not.”

He moved slow. Gave you everything. Held you like he was afraid you’d vanish. Whispered things in your ear like:

“I never thought I’d have this with someone.”

“You’re mine. Only mine.”

“You’re the best thing that’s ever happened to me.”

And when it was over, he didn’t move away. Just pulled you tighter into his chest, nose pressed to your neck, his curls damp with sweat and emotion.

“Was I okay?” he asked, barely audible.

“You were everything.”

Lando chuckled, voice low. “Good. Because I’m definitely in love with you now.”

“You weren’t before?”

He kissed your cheek. “No, I was. I’m just screwed now.”

Oscar Piastri|

Quiet, but emotionally devastating. Oscar doesn’t need to say it — you feel how much he loves you in every single touch.

“I don't want to be your friend, I want to kiss your neck.”

“I’m falling for you, I’m falling for you… I can’t stop thinking about you.”

You didn’t plan for tonight to be the night.

There was no candlelit dinner. No roses. No dramatic declarations. Just the two of you in his apartment, music playing low from a playlist he made you months ago — songs that didn’t have lyrics, just instrumentals. He said it made space for thoughts. Yours. His.

Oscar sat cross-legged on the couch, barefoot, in a worn hoodie. You were curled up next to him in your favorite blanket. You’d been quiet for a while, but not in a bad way. Just… soft.

“I missed you this week,” he said quietly, eyes focused on your fingers playing with the seam of the blanket.

“I was still talking to you every day,” you replied with a soft smile.

“Yeah,” he nodded, “but not like this.”

His hand reached for yours, tugging it gently from the blanket and resting it in his lap. His thumb traced over your knuckles with care — like he’d been doing it for years.

You studied him. The way he was always so sure in the most unspoken ways. He never said too much, but everything he did say felt real. Like he only ever spoke when it mattered.

“I’ve been thinking,” you said, barely above a whisper.

He looked up, eyebrows raised slightly. “Yeah?”

“About us. About… going further.”

Oscar’s eyes didn’t widen. He didn’t smirk or shift closer. He just stayed still, eyes locked on yours, processing it completely before responding.

“Are you sure?” he asked. “Not because it feels like it’s time. But because you want to. Not just physically. Here—” He reached out, gently pressing two fingers to your chest, right over your heart. “—and here.” He tapped your temple next.

You swallowed thickly. “I’m sure.”

And that’s when he moved.

Not urgently. Not like it was something he was owed. Just slow. Intentional. A hand brushing your cheek. A kiss on your forehead. Then one on your lips — firmer this time. Closer.

He led you to his room like he was inviting you into a piece of his world no one else had ever been inside. The air was still. Soft light filtered in from the hallway. No rush. No noise.

Oscar undressed you carefully — not like he was unwrapping something delicate, but like he was being trusted with something sacred. His hands never rushed. He kissed your shoulder. Your chest. Your jaw. He looked you in the eyes through all of it.

“You’re beautiful,” he whispered. “But I think I loved you before I even knew what you looked like like this.”

Your heart clenched.

When he moved above you, he paused again. His breath was shaky now, eyes flickering to your expression.

“I need you to tell me again,” he said. “Tell me this is okay.”

You reached up, cupping his cheek. “This is more than okay. This is what I want.”

He kissed you as he entered you — slow, deep, and quiet.

The pace never quickened too much. Oscar stayed locked on you, whispering things only meant for you to hear:

“I’ve never done this like this before.”

“I didn’t think it would feel like… this much.”

“You make me feel like I’m home.”

You held his face the entire time — your forehead to his, your fingers in his hair. You didn’t need fast or wild or loud. You needed him. The man who made you feel safe in silence. The boy who remembered what side of the bed you liked. The driver who still got nervous when you kissed his neck.

And when it was over, he didn’t let you go.

He pulled the blanket up over both of you, his arm wrapped around your waist, his face pressed into your hair. You could feel his heartbeat against your spine.

You didn’t speak. You didn’t need to.

But after a few minutes, you heard him murmur into the space between you:

“I think that was the moment I realized I can’t imagine doing life without you.”

You smiled, still facing away, eyes drifting closed.

“You don’t have to.”

Franco Colapinto|

Nervous. Hopeful. Honest. Franco’s first time with you is everything he’s never said, finally spoken through touch.

“I left my mind with you… I only feel half full.”

“I was all over her… I don’t think I can live without her.”

You’d spent the entire day teasing each other.

It started with breakfast — where he stole bites from your plate, just to see you glare. Then it was lazy back-and-forth sarcasm while cleaning his place, a playful wrestling match on his couch, and finally… the moment he pinned you to the bed with his hands on either side of your waist, hovering over you with that stupid smirk.

“Say you give up,” Franco grinned, curls falling into his eyes.

“Never.”

He leaned down, his nose brushing yours, breath warm. “You sure?”

Your hands rested on his bare shoulders now — he’d lost his hoodie in the chaos, leaving only his undershirt that had ridden up on his toned stomach.

His voice dipped, lower, softer. “Because if you keep looking at me like that…”

You blinked up at him, heart pounding.

The teasing stopped.

It wasn’t a game anymore.

You both felt it — the air had shifted. Slowed.

His thumb brushed your cheek like he was memorizing something. “I don’t want to mess this up.”

“You won’t,” you whispered. “You’re the only thing that feels right.”

He kissed you slowly, not like a boy who had been flirting all day, but like someone realizing this wasn’t just a moment — this was it. His hands stayed soft on your skin, exploring without rushing, careful with every inch of you like he wanted to savor every breath.

“You okay?” he asked when your shirt came off, voice quieter now, eyes searching yours.

You nodded, pulling him back to you. “I trust you, Franco.”

He swallowed hard — like that meant more to him than anything else you could’ve said.

You helped him undress. Both of you were clumsy at first — socks half-on, him muttering “Shit, sorry” when his arm hit the nightstand — but it made you laugh, and he laughed too, until you were both smiling into each other’s mouths, flushed, hearts racing, bodies warm.

When he finally moved above you, everything slowed again.

His forehead pressed to yours. His hand slid under your lower back, lifting you just enough. “Tell me if anything’s too much,” he murmured, breathless.

“You’ll know,” you whispered. “Just stay with me.”

He was gentle. So gentle it almost broke you.

He took his time, pressing into you with careful rhythm, watching every reaction, brushing his lips over your skin like he was tracing your soul with his mouth.

His voice was a whisper in your ear:

“You feel so good, baby…”

“Can’t believe I get to love you like this.”

“You’re everything I didn’t know I was waiting for.”

He never looked away. Held your gaze like you were the only thing anchoring him to the world.

And when he came, it wasn’t with a groan or a moan — it was with your name, softly broken across his lips like a prayer.

After, Franco collapsed beside you, panting softly, still holding your hand. He pulled you onto his chest, kissing your hair, his heart thudding beneath your ear.

“You okay?” you asked after a moment of quiet.

“I’m…” He exhaled. “I’m in trouble.”

You lifted your head, blinking. “Why?”

He looked at you, eyes glassy. “Because that didn’t just mean a lot. It meant everything.”

You smiled. Kissed the tip of his nose. “Then we’re both in trouble.”

Franco pulled the blanket over both of you and mumbled against your neck, “Good. I like being in trouble if it’s with you.

Paul Aron|

A quiet unraveling. Paul’s usually all control — until you, until now, until he learns that vulnerability is strength too.

“Your love is a symphony, all around me, running through me.”

“I give it all to you.”

It was almost 1 a.m. when you realized neither of you had touched the TV remote in an hour.

You were on Paul’s couch, legs over his lap, head resting against the armrest, and his hand was tracing slow lines over your shin — so soft you could barely feel it. The room was silent except for the hum of city life outside the windows.

You shifted to look at him. He was already watching you.

“What?” you whispered.

Paul tilted his head, eyes thoughtful. “Nothing.”

He said it like it was everything.

You sat up a little, pulling your knees close to your chest. “You’re quiet.”

“I always am.”

“Not like this.”

He exhaled slowly, thumb brushing your ankle. “You make me think in full sentences instead of fragments. That’s rare.”

The way he looked at you then — it wasn’t intense or lustful. It was… anchored. Like you were the only still point in the entire world.

“You’ve been looking at me like you want to say something all night,” you said.

Paul hesitated for a second, then leaned forward. “I want you.”

Three words. Spoken like a vow.

Not rushed. Not expectant. Just real.

You swallowed. “Now?”

“Only if you want me too. Not just tonight. Not just for this. But really.”

There was no heat in his voice — not yet. Just a quiet certainty that made your whole body warm.

“I want you,” you said softly. “All of you.”

He kissed you like he’d been waiting for years. Slow. Steady. His fingers cradled the back of your neck while yours fisted into the fabric of his hoodie. When he pulled back, you were already breathless.

The walk to his bedroom wasn’t clumsy or fast — it was paced like every step mattered.

When he laid you down, Paul took his time.

He undressed you with complete reverence, eyes never leaving yours. “Tell me if I go too fast,” he murmured, sliding your shirt over your head. “Or if you just need a minute.”

“I need you,” you whispered.

“Then I’m yours.”

He moved like a man who wasn’t trying to take, but to give. Every touch asked a silent question. Every kiss was an answer.

You felt his control — the way he held himself back, always making sure you were okay.

When he finally pressed into you, he paused, his forehead resting against yours. “Still good?”

“More than good.”

He kissed you again, deeper this time.

“You feel like everything I’ve ever needed,” he whispered, voice trembling just slightly. “Like I waited for you without knowing.”

You held him tighter, letting your body answer for you.

The rhythm stayed slow. Intimate. Your legs wrapped around his waist. Your name slipped from his lips like it was holy. He didn’t say much — just quiet praises in between his breaths:

“You’re perfect.”

“I’ve never felt like this before.”

“Don’t let go.”

You didn’t.

After, Paul didn’t roll away. He pulled you onto his chest, his hand rubbing lazy circles over your back.

“You okay?” he asked.

“I’m home,” you said.

Paul smiled — that rare, real smile only you ever got to see. He pressed a kiss to your temple and whispered,

“I think I fell in love with you a long time ago. Tonight just made it permanent.”

Carlos Sainz|

Safe. Intentional. The kind of love that doesn’t have to be loud to last forever.

“In all of the stillness, I still feel your touch”

It wasn’t supposed to happen that night.

You weren’t dressed up. There were no candles. No heavy kisses. No bold words. Just a quiet Friday night in Madrid, tangled on Carlos’ couch after a home-cooked dinner and two glasses of wine — the good kind he reserves only for nights when it’s just the two of you.

You were curled into his side, your legs across his lap, your hand under his shirt. Just resting there, flat against his stomach. His skin was warm. Solid.

Carlos had been quieter than usual.

“What’s going on in that head of yours?” you asked, tracing your thumb across his skin.

He paused. Then looked at you with that quiet, steady intensity that only he had — like he didn’t rush words because he never said them unless they mattered.

“I’ve never done this slow before,” he said. “Never… waited.”

You blinked. “Waited for what?”

Carlos gently took your hand in his, held it tight. “For someone I didn’t want to lose.”

You didn’t speak for a long time after that.

The TV hummed quietly. Your fingers played with his. And then you leaned in — slow, deliberate — and kissed him.

Not hungrily. Not teasingly.

Just honestly.

And when he kissed you back, it was like something inside him gave in.

Not to lust. To love.

He didn’t rush to the bedroom. He didn’t strip you down like it was instinct. He undressed you like he’d been waiting for the right moment to deserve it.

Carlos made sure you were okay with every step — with his eyes, his hands, his words.

“Do you want this?” he asked, holding your face in his hands like you were something sacred.

“I want you,” you whispered.

He nodded — slowly, reverently — and guided you to his bed like you were something to protect.

He made love to you with complete presence.

His touch never left your skin. His kisses never strayed too far from your mouth. Every movement was intentional — not out of hunger, but out of care. Every time your breath hitched or your fingers tightened, he responded with a soft whisper of your name.

His forehead rested against yours.

His voice low:

“You’re safe with me.”

“You feel so good, cariño.”

“I’ll never forget this.”

When he reached the edge, he didn’t chase it. He held you tighter. Slowed down. Breathed with you. You felt it — the moment it stopped being physical, and became something so much more.

After, he didn’t roll away. Didn’t say anything dramatic. He just pulled you on top of him, running his hand down your back, over and over like it grounded him.

“You okay?” you whispered into his chest.

“I’m…” Carlos paused. Then kissed the top of your head. “I’m really glad we waited.”

“So am I.”

Silence again — the good kind.

Then he whispered, half asleep:

“Now I’m yours in every way.”

Max Verstappen|

A quiet unraveling. Max doesn’t give his heart easily — but when he does, it’s deep, intense, and unforgettable.

“Some day someone will like me like I like you…”

“Some day I’ll stop falling in love with you…”

“But I can’t, and that’s why I let you break my heart again.”

You’d been dating Max for six months before he let you into his world fully — not the glitzy, fast-paced F1 world. The real one.

The quiet, guarded part. The one behind locked hotel doors, in dimly lit apartments, where he could finally breathe. You weren’t surprised that when it finally happened — when he let you touch all of him — it wasn’t after a party or a romantic dinner.

It was after a long day. His worst qualifying session in months. Cameras in his face. Team stress high. Everything felt like it was slipping.

Except you.

That night, you found him in the kitchen of his Monaco apartment, hunched over the counter, still in his Red Bull hoodie, jaw clenched.

“Talk to me,” you said gently.

He looked at you, and something in his expression just broke.

Not anger. Not tears. Just… surrender.

“I don’t want to talk,” he murmured.

You walked over and slid your hands under his hoodie, resting them on his waist. “Then don’t.”

For the first time, Max kissed you like he needed you.

Like it wasn’t just affection — it was a lifeline.

He carried you to the bedroom in silence.

The kind of silence that said more than words ever could.

Max took his time — not because he was unsure, but because this mattered to him. Every piece of clothing he peeled off felt like a layer of armor falling away. His hands were steady. His eyes never left yours.

“You okay?” you asked as you lay back on the sheets, your bare legs wrapped around his waist.

His voice was low. Rough. Honest. “I don’t do this halfway.”

You reached up, cupping his face. “I never asked you to.”

He was intense in the way he touched you — every movement deliberate, his control evident even when his breathing started to stutter.

It wasn’t frantic. It wasn’t perfect. But it was real.

And when he finally sank into you, his forehead pressed to yours, he let out a broken breath like he’d been holding it for years.

“F-fuck,” he whispered, barely audible. “I’ve wanted this. You. For so long.”

You arched into him, gripping his shoulders. “Then take it.”

Max moved slowly. Like every second with you was something he needed to memorize. His hands gripped your thighs, your waist, your hips — not hard, just tight enough to say mine.

He wasn’t vocal. But you heard everything in the way he whispered your name under his breath, over and over, like a grounding point.

And when he came, it wasn’t with a shout — it was with a kiss. One that lasted through the shudder, the stillness, the after.

After, Max didn’t move for a long time.

His arm was around you, hand on your stomach, his face tucked into your neck like he never wanted to be anywhere else.

“You didn’t have to be perfect,” you whispered.

“I wasn’t trying to be,” he said softly. “I just wanted to be real with you.”

And in the soft light of the room, wrapped up in his warmth and the weight of what had just happened, you knew the truth:

Max didn’t just let you in.

He chose you.

[sargeteen]

📝 ENCHANTED TO MEET YOU⋆𐙚₊˚⊹♡

ᵎ!ᵎ𐔌 a lewis hamilton smau they were close during the filming of the f1 movie , and they were close the time he came to ferrari for a grand prix . are they just friends , or have they been dating for longer than we realize ?

pairing & warnings ... ♯ lewis hamilton x secret wag (hab) ! male reader ꒱ fc: damson idris ﹕ fuck men and their super cute and secret age gap relationships requested by @bunnisgreen

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vogue lewis hamilton stuns at the met gala.

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scuderiaferrari that's our 7-time wdc driver right there 😮‍💨 ⤷ userone 8-time***

charles_leclerc looking great lh! ❤️ ⤷ usertwo i'm crying please put the gay away charles ⤷ userthree let my man gay out on the tl 💔

userfour if he's not voted best dressed i don't care to see the list ⤷ userfive he's the first person on the carpet 😭😭 ??? you haven't even seen all of the other outfits ⤷ userfour yeah but it's lewis hamilton so does that really matter? ⤷ userfive you know...you got a point there

usersix good golly gee i really do love this man ⤷ userseven GOLLY GEE 😭😭???? ⤷ usereight IM CRYING GOLLY GEE ⤷ usernine HOW OLD ARE YOU LMFAOOOO

userten when is y/n pulling up?? ⤷ usereleven was he even invited? ⤷ userten man do i hope so. that man is the most gorgeous man i've ever laid my eyes on, apart from lewis hamilton.

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vogue y/n l/n stuns at the met gala.

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usertwelve OH WOW YEAH HE ATE THAT UP

userthirteen did you see him roll up in a fucking f1 car???? like the pr for this movie is actually insane ⤷ userfourteen wicked might have a contender for most insane movie pr ⤷ userfifteen nah i saw wicked mac n cheese, who needs wicked shaped mac n cheese ⤷ usersixteen don't even get me started on the wicked alcohol. promoting drinking to a primarily underage audience? i support her, but this isn't okay ⤷ userthirteen i'm 22 and i'm SCARED

userseventeen god this man is FOINEEEEE

usereighteen put me, y/n l/n, and lewis hamilton in a room and we won't be leaving for hours. and when we do, it won't be pretty. ⤷ usernineteen whats it finna play...WOAH

usertwenty god i love y/n l/n. i'm glad that he's finally getting the recognition he deserves!!

"HAD QUITE AN ENTRANCE THERE," an interviewer laughed as y/n l/n walked up to him with a smile. The interviewer had a VOGUE branded microphone, and he was dressed well for the gala as well, but he was just in a black tux.

Y/n laughed, “Yeah well, when PR tells you to do a fun entrance in a Formula 1 car, you have to accept.” He was taller than the interviewer, so y/n bent his neck and lowered his head so he could hear him talk.

“And I would’ve as well,” he laughed. “So, y/n, tell me about this suit,” the interviewer stepped back a step and the camera panned down to scroll up and over the red suit that y/n wore.

With a pointed finger, y/n gestured to all of the small details in his outfit that not only meant a lot to him, but also referenced the theme of this years gala—Black Dandyism. It was a beautiful style and y/n remembers the excitement that coursed through him when he heard that he’d been invited this year.

“It’s just a beautiful theme and a beautiful suit, as well,” the interviewer smiled up at y/n. “But, I must ask, since you arrived quite early, whose outfit are you most excited to see tonight?”

“I’ve already seen my favorite, and the one I was most excited for,” y/n turned around and his eyes immediately caught onto Lewis Hamilton’s figure, clad in the beautifully made cream suit. “Lewis Hamilton is by far one of the best dressed ones here outside of the MET, so I was really excited to see what he cooked up with Louis Vuitton.”

As if Lewis heard him, he turned towards y/n. A smile broke out on his face as his eyes caught onto y/n’s.

The world fell away from the two—the camera flashes turned into shining stars as the blue carpet, walls, and ceiling turned into the night sky. It was very much La La Land-esk as everything around them faded away and they ended up in space.

Y/n smiled and his eyes softened at Lewis, which caused the man to start to walk over to the interview. That cut off their quick connection, and Lewis let a hand rest on y/n’s waist when he came up beside him.

“I heard my name, handsome?” Lewis grinned and nodded at the interviewer as he spared a glance over at y/n.

The height difference was quite comedic and noticeable—there was no way that Twitter (or X if you’re with the times) wasn’t already freaking out over the movie star and F1 driver being so close together again. When the F1 movie was still filming, and Lewis Hamilton was on the set, helping the actors perfect what being in an F1 car was actually like, there were pictures that went around of y/n and Lewis being quite close—much like they are now.

The interviewer raised an eyebrow.

Y/n laughed and shook his head, “You are so annoying, Lew.” Yet, y/n slid a hand behind Lewis and let it fall on the small of his back. At this, Lewis let his hand drop and it raised up to his stomach, stepping back into his favorite pose—the one Twitter lovingly called his ‘pregnant mom pose’.

The shift was seamless, and honestly hard to notice. It was like it was second nature to the duo, and had been done before.

“You two are quite close, no?” The interviewer asked, but he backtracked when he realized that question could be taken the wrong way. “Like on the F1 movie set, pictures went around of you two standing close to each other, and then now, y/n, you have your arm on Lewis’s waist. Is there a story to that?”

Y/n and Lewis glanced at each other and laughed quietly. “Movie sets are where the magic happens, right?” Y/n asked with a smile.

The interviewer went to say more, but representatives for both Lewis and y/n pushed them away, hurling apologies towards the interviewer, but he didn’t care all that much. Vogue just got a story and a beautiful piece idea.

“OH, FUCK,” y/n laughed as he tripped over his own shoe. He looked behind him and, not so, gracefully stepped over the other shoes on the hotel room floor that were in his path. “Jesus, Lew, how many shoes do you have?” He stepped on a black shoe, one with a taller hell than the others.

Lewis laughed as he pushed y/n out of his way so he could walk into the hotel room, the door shutting closed behind them. They shut the world out behind them, leaving just the two of them in the hotel room, only the two of them in on their secret.

"I have enough," Lewis smiled as he started to pull off the black outfit that he had put on for the MET afterparty that he dragged y/n to. "You just have one pair, and that's crazy to me," Lewis tsk'd and shook his head as he glanced over at y/n, who was now laying on the bed on his back. His right arm covered his eyes and his chest rose slowly.

Pausing what he was doing, Lewis walked up to the bed and pulled on y/n arms, causing a whine to escape y/n's throat.

"Nope, come on, love," Lewis hummed as he pulled y/n up so he was sitting up on the bed. His eyes remained closed and his posture was bent like a candy cane as he swayed, threatening to fall back onto the bed again. "You can't sleep in this beautiful suit, you need to change out of it," Lewis's voice was soft as he started to help y/n out of his red suit.

As the jacket started to slide off his arms, y/n opened his eyes and looked up at Lewis, which wasn't a common thing for him, seeing as he was taller than Lewis despite being younger.

"Hmm," y/n hummed as he started to help Lewis slowly take off his suit. Soon enough, y/n was sitting on the edge of the bed in his pajamas, which consisted of a comedic t-shirt with Lewis's face all over it and a pair of sweatshorts.

Lewis walked into the bathroom, but came back just as quick. He held something in his hand, something small but held years of history. He gestured for y/n to hand him his left hand.

"Here you go, Mr. Hamilton," Lewis chuckled as he slid on the ring onto y/n's left ring finger. It was a simple band―gold with small diamonds littered about, but the inside had their wedding date engraved, along with LH. Lewis slid on his own ring, which was similar to y/n's, but his was silver and had Y/I on the inside instead.

"Thank you, Mr. L/n," y/n hummed and he pulled Lewis down into a kiss, a soft and loving one that had both of them sighing.

Their fingers were heavy with their rings, heavy with responsibility and love.

Before they went to sleep that night, they faced each other in bed. Lewis's eyes traveled over y/n's face. He glanced over at the clock on the nightstand, the time blinking back at him in red.

12:00.

"Happy anniversary, lover," Lewis hummed and he leaned forward, pressing a soft kiss on y/n's mouth.

"Happy anniversary, Lew."

liked by scuderiaferrari, charles_leclerc, yourusername, and others tagged: yourusername

lewishamilton happy 3 years, lover.

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📌 pinned comment! youruser easiest yes i've ever said. happy three years ❤️ ⤷ lewishamilton i love you, mr. hamilton. ⤷ yourusername i love you more, mr. l/n.

charles_leclerc so proud of you two! worst secret i've ever had to keep, glad you trusted me with it for the past 3 years ❤️ ⤷ lewishamilton glad we could trust you with it, charles.

usertwentyone WHAT THE ACTUAL FUCK.

usertwentytwo WHAT THE FUCK IS GOING ON IN THE HOUSE OF COMMONS WHAT THE FUCK WHAT THE FUCK WHATS IS FINNA PLAY WOAHHHH HELLO WHATS GOING ON

usertwentythree HWUAHFOAISJEFOIAJSF WHATISHOFIJ MY GOAT IS GAY ????/??????????///????????

georgerussell glad nobody in the comments overreacted...so proud of you two! we miss you in the mercedes garage, y/n 💔 ⤷ yourusername might have to pay toto wolff a little visit...miss you guys as well. thank you so much, george ❤️ ⤷ lewishamilton moving past that...thank you much george.

scuderiaferrari our royal wedding 🥺🥺 ⤷ yourusername love you so much ferrari admin ❤️

usertwentyfour I DONT EVEN KNOW HOW TO RESPOND TO THIS WHAT IS GOING ON GUYS IS IT APRIL FOOLS TOGAY IM SO CUFING CONFUSED HELP ⤷ usertwentyfive GIRL IM WITH YOU WHAT THE FUCK IS GOING ON

usertwentysix OAIWEJOAFNCSDKCN LEWIS FUCKIG HAMILTON IS FUCKING Y/N L/N ⤷ yourusername who said that? ⤷ lewishamilton babe. ⤷ usertwentysix WHAT THE FUCKIS MY FUCKING LIFE

liked by georgerussell, nicorosberg, charles_leclerc, and others tagged: lewishamilton

yourusername this may come as a shock to some of you, but i am a married man (and have been for 3 years)! 5 years ago, i met lewis hamilton at the silverstone grandprix, and fell in love. 2 years later, he asked me to marry him, and here we are 3 years later sharing it with the world.

we were hesitant to share our love at first, seeing as formula 1 is a very toxic masculinity fueled sport, but we're tired of hiding our wedding rings and not being able to talk about each other in interviews.

happy three years, mr. l/n. here's to many more 🥂!!

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📌 pinned comment! lewishamilton it was love at first sight, love. ⤷ yourusername ah you make me blush, lover man.

charles_leclerc ferrari signed two hamilton's this year. love having you in the garage, y/n! you two are too cute for me to handle. ⤷ yourusername omfg charles i love you so much. you are so cute, my little child. ⤷ charles_leclerc child????? ⤷ yourusername surprise you're my child now

usertwentyseven HOLY FUCKING SHIT I LOVE YOU TWO SO MUCH YOU'RE A SUCH A BIG INSPIRATION WOWWW THE 7 TIME WDC GOAT IS GAY CUT THE CHECK REPUBLICANS ⤷ usertwentyeight CUT! THE! FUCKING! CHECK!

usertwentynine WOWWWWWWW THIS WAS NOT ON MY 2025 BINGO CARDDD

georgerussell insanely proud of you two (like i said before)! love the both of you two papa y papa ⤷ yourusername you had to make it weird. thank you george, we love you too.

scuderiaferrari does this mean 'f1 movie actor & lewis hamilton's partner' is your new title to skysports 🙏🙏🙏 ⤷ yourusername add in 'ferrari's biggest fan' and then yes

a/n: hope you guys liked this, cause i loved making it!!!

tags: @milessunflowers @lokisen @kevinlolwife @op-81-lvr-reblogs @kazanskied @481rosier @raizelchrysanderoctavius @mountainshuman

[sukioyakio]

Drabble

Coolbfsukuna x losergfreader

Sukuna had his fair share of relationships, boring,Toxic, submissive, obsessive, and the list goes on. But your the one who broke his 3-6 mouths dating streaks.And at times he even wonders what is better,you talking or his little brother talking. He even ponders how the hell that you out of everyone got into his heart and claimed him.

But if he could give you a title for anything,it would be a fucking loser, and the biggest talker.

He was sitting down in the comfort of his bedroom;The luxury and pleasure one should feel when in their bedroom but not for him as he groans out loud.Clicking against his tongue.

While the sun shines it bright yellow shimmers through the windows. And right now,you were doing some damn acting shit;with a literal D.I.Y costume for whatever fuck shit show you had on the Tv in his our room with the muisc loud enough that he’s wouldn’t be surprised if the neighbor’s knock on the door.

“And WHAT YOUR name is!!” You voice out with a stupid pose.Walking with a blue coat and one of your yellow trousers And a pair of white sweatpants. Bopping your head down as you follow the beat. Remember the next line like it muscle memory.

“Alexander Hamilton!” You singed along with the people on the screen and posing like the guy in the middle. Sukuna can’t even say anything but watch your little live show.

Sukuna watched you goof around, dancing around the room like an absolute idiot. He just sat there with a dumbfounded expression, watching you sing along to the cheesy songs, trying to match the actors on the screen.

"You having fun there, dumbass?" He asks sarcastically., raising an eyebrow as he watches your 'performance'. Merely his gesture showing his boredom.

Your back jerk at his voice even if the volume is loud you could find that voice anywhere;your face look at him with surprised expression,that quickly becomes red after you realize your bf wasnt on his headphones or in the leaving room trying to get his own silence.

But instead watched your impressions of hamlition the musical.

Before shyly nodding at his response face flush with a perfect shade of red and going right back to singing along with the crew.

Your playful movements were a bit stiff at first because of the embarrassment running through your vains but went back to it when it came to the song ‘Aaron bur,sir’.

sukuna Huff out silently a laugh;at your reaction towards his question. God,Your one hell of loser.

Sukuna lips lift up in a amused smirk, You always did those shy reactions right after doing something so geeky especially when your around him.He didnt need to get his little brother to ask if youve been in a relationship before him because he clearly saw that he your was first one.

He observed intently, leaning back further into the headrest of the bed, his eyes fixated solely on you.

He found the way you blushed and tried to play it off amusing, a sly smirk playing on his lips.

‘adorable’ a voice ringed in his mind.

As you continued singing along, he let out another huff’s of laughter . "You sure are something else," he muttered, shaking his head in amusement.

——

He could go on a walk with you and your ass would be careful to tell him everything that you and yuji did your day out.

Your presence completely overshadowed his aesthetic but he could clearly seeing that you lack fashion sense much more then relationship experience.

“And then We went on a walk and saw this beetle” You say with a eager look in your eyes. Your hair a completely mess, but he’s proud that you don't give a flying fuck about people.And how much more your glasses made you look like a greek.

Sukuna listened intently, or at least tried to listen to your endless chattering about what you and his fuck ass little brother did. But his attention was mainly on how adorably excited you were to talk about such mundane things. His face nonchalantly glanced at your as times,with a neutral expression.

"Uh yuh," he muttered, his voice stern.A hint of interest in his voice.His hands in his pockets as he felt your hand clenching onto his black coat.As he lead you and him through the busy streets of Tokyo. He was getting slightly annoyed with how virgin like you are. ”But i cant believe that that lunchable ripoff would actually ruin there-“ you voice,with a cheerful smile rambling through your soft lips. Sukuna just scoff out, But it didnt weigh no malice. Your hands still wraps it grip onto his coat instead of just holding his hand but he wasn’t gonna sound pathetic.

Eyes watched him, with eyes of curiosity or Attentive Spirits. Either there eyes drooling at his frame which that what his high school days would get off to.

But he was getting slightly irritated by the stares that were heading your direction. Giving you a disgusted look’s, and whispers of what he knew wasn’t any better than their expression.

He silently clenched his jaw, already annoyed by the stares and remarks, but you were completely oblivious to all of it. You just continued talking, blissfully unaware of the attention you both were receiving. ”Oh!My god i forgot to tell you that his best friend got some mess up crap too. . .” You faced at him with a lazy smile, the sun shining at your horrifying messing hair, giving it a clear glaze to look at.A face he could stare at for hours but he wouldnt admit that to you.

Even when you smile at him like that.He completely ignores the fact about these citizens stares.

Crossing the streets, your hand slips out of grasp of his coat.. He immediately takes your palm into his grasps.Keeping your presence close to him.Letting his hand soak into your warmth palms.He was at first hesitant to continue forward; this man wasn’t used to doing all the yearning. And boy just from that moment you shut up;having his stern face lift up with a genuine smirk. Becuase out of anything that get you to be quiet are simply actions it make him feel a bit arrogant.

But then again you’re probably have a bright redness flushed at your cheeks. But not a two minutes later he could hear your mutters. were you even trying to lower your voice??

“Omg,omg,omg his hand,his hand completely engulfed my hand. God his hand warm.” You whispered loudly;cheeks flashed with a warm red. Still holding onto his hand .

Rolling his eyes into the back of his skull,he looked annoyed but his ears showed another thing.His lips tug a smirk he tried to not give in.

"Oh my god, shut up," He muttered under his breath, annoyed with your lack of volume control but it held no heat to it. "You're too loud, ya know? People could hear you."

He glanced at you, a mixture of coldness and amusement in his eyes. "And stop gushing like a little schoolgirl about my hand. It's just a hand, for crying out loud."

You face completely turns into a tomato. As you reject his taunt. As now the you both were now inside the gates of the park.

“Well !it not just any hand! It yours and you mean a lot to me. . . Also doesnt that mean im in love with your cells since it makes up your existence an-“

You were quickly shut up by his other arm squeezing your palm cheeks together making you look like a duck.As you were now face close to your hot boyfriend.His body bending down,to your height. His red orbs staring at you; cologne mixing up with your way of breathing. His perfectly shaped faces with tattoos that just make him look so good.

Loud gulp comes from you.As your glasses fogged up with how much your breathing.Yea . . so you realize that staring contest weren’t much of your strong suit.

"Stupid.." he muttered, his grip still tight on your cheeks. "You always manage to leave me speechless."

He leaned forward, his nose almost touching yours, his expression filled with a mix of annoyance and amusement. "One of these days, I'm gonna have to find a way to shut you up for good." His voice low raspy voice. And then his soft lips kisses your lips,always leaving you feeling like gonna faint out of pure bliss.His tongue taking the lead,as you horribly try to follow.

At least this was his favorite way of shutting you up.

Hope you like it

Please leave a comment,i like reading yall comments. And a reblog is always welcome.

part two

mutuals list - @ukininayu @scoobysnakz @ciggrx @mononijikayu @lynxslokley

Made by @sukioyakio 2025

Edit - Here my Masterlist

[misguidedswagger]

“you silly little thing,”

he taps your chest, your knees buckling underneath you as you fall back onto the bed, your head hitting the soft fluffy pillows he insisted upon.

your breath catches in your throat as you look up at the man towering above you, his smirk only growing in size. he leans down to your ear as his large hands roam the exposed skin of your body.

“did you really think i wouldn’t hesitate to indulge in the beauty of you, especially when you dress so deliciously?” his low chuckle sends heat to your lower half and you nearly choke on your words,

“m-my love,” you tremble,

he places his large callused finger over your lip, his devious smirk nearly taking up his entire face now.

“shhh, my dearest. let your husband take care of you, just in the way you deserve.”

[youkissedareaderinthedark]

Coraline

Synopsis: Y/n’s childhood and history with her parents has always stayed a secret, and she likes it that way. Until a journalist reveals the truth, and everything seems to come crashing down at once.

young female driver reader x 2023 F1 grid

A/N: a few things for this fic: reader will be 20 years old, had driven for alpha tauri since the beginning of 2022, the 2022 is the same as the 2023 grid, and please look at the trigger warning below.

Trigger Warning: This fic contains abusive parents, talks of eating disorders, neglecting a kid, verbally abusing a kid, signs of depression, and a lot of hurtful comments in general. This fic is not meant to idolize or romanticize having abusive parents or depression. If anyone finds anything particularly disturbing with this fic, do not hesitate to let me know and I will fix it.

tagged: @treehouse-mouse

2023 was supposed to be a good season for Alpha Tauri. The cars looked good, your driver pairing was solid, and the hopes were high for your junior Red Bull team. You could only laugh at the naivety of it now.

Most of the season was exceptional; you and Yuki Tsunoda brought in points almost every weekend, your team was seventh in the constructors championship, and overall, you were having a great time traveling around the world.

This was your second year in Formula 1, and now that you weren’t a rookie anymore, you could have more fun now that you knew what you were doing.

Some people just don’t like others being happy, though.

With less than 10 races left, you walked into the paddock for the Monza Grand Prix Thursday afternoon feeling optimistic. This was the second race after the summer break, and Alpha Tauri was expected to do well in Italy.

Your press officer, Ally, greeted you in your garage, and after saying hello to Yuki, you followed her out of the garage and into the media pen for a press conference.

You walk in to see Lewis, Carlos, Lando, and Fernando and talked quietly with them as the press in front of you get settled. “Everybody ready? All right, first question please” One of the directors asks, as a journalists speaks up.

“Lewis, you’ve witnessed the infamous ‘Monza Curse’ multiple times in your career, do you think the theory is true and will it strike again this year?”

“Um, no” Lewis chuckles. “I don’t believe in the curse, but it would be nice to see someone new finish first today, and if a curse is what it’s going to take, then yeah, why not”

The five of you laugh, not noticing the second journalist beginning to speak. “Y/n, what do you have to say about the recent article published regarding your past with your family?”

You instantly stop laughing, hoping you misheard the man.

“Sorry?”

There’s no way

“The article? That was recently published concerning your past with your parents, what do you have to say about it?” The journalist stared at you curiously while your mind blanked for an answer.

You had no idea what article he was talking about, but if it concerned your past with your ‘family’, you knew it wasn’t anything that should be published.

Suddenly there’s movement in the midst of the media pen, and your press officer emerges from the crowd. “Y/n, come with me” She pauses, seeing one of the directors nearing out of the corner of her eye.

“It’s urgent, I need her” You’d take any excuse to get away from the current situation, so after exchanging a look with Lewis, you follow the woman into the paddock towards your garage.

Once you were both in the safety of your drivers room, you turned on her. “What article is he talking about? What’s going on?” You said, voice heavy with concern.

Ally hesitated, looking uncomfortable, before answering. “This morning, an article published a story talking about you and your parents, and the-um, harsh history you have with them” She hands you her phone, said article already open.

“I think it’s better if you read it yourself” The bold letters blink up at you, clear and sullen.

“F1 DRIVERS UNCOVERED: THE REAL REASON WE DON’T SEE Y/N L/N’S PARENTS”

Your heart falls to your stomach and your hands start to shake as your eyes skim over the words of the most invading and overwhelming article you’ve ever read in your life. Whoever wrote this, wrote it in hopes of exposing every secret of your past, and further tangles the truth of an already over-complicated background.

The real reason your parents are never around you is a reason you hate talking about.

You first realized it when you were around ten years old, the way your parents never looked happy around each other, and always tense around other parents. The way they never said ‘I love you’ or kissed each other goodbye. It confused you, as these were the things you always saw your friend’s parents do, but you were too young to understand at the time, so you mainly ignored it.

It wasn’t until one night when you were eleven that you heard an argument erupting from your kitchen, one about money and divorces and you. The shouting continued for ages, until you heard one statement, loud and clear.

“Think about this, she’s getting good in those karting competitions of hers, and according to other parents she could go really far in this thing and get money from sponsorships and mentors. So let’s just give it a little time, make sure she gets better and gets paid, and the money will go to us and eventually she’ll leave to Formula- whatever and we won’t have to worry about her”

You put your pillow over your head, turned around, and went to sleep sobbing that night.

From then on, there was no ‘I love you’s’ or kisses goodbye even to you, and eventually, no happiness in your house. The ‘other parents’ were right, the older you got, the farther you looked to go in racing. Just before you turned 13, the three of you moved to a city in England so you could pursue karting further, and that’s when it all got worse.

You competed in countless competitions, and every race you won, the more criticism you got from your mom and dad. The second you stepped off the 1st place podium, your parents were waiting to comment on your driving and the techniques you should’ve used to win.

They never let you focus on anything but karting, letting you go nowhere but the track and to school, and made sure you were always looking for ways to get better. They ruthlessly compared you to kids in other series that were performing better than you, and countered every compliment someone gave you with a complaint.

All of this seemed like a dream compared to the treatment you got when you lost. Whether it be second, or tenth, every race you didn’t come first in was a loss, and your parents simply didn’t accept this.

When you lost, they’d make you practice on track for twice as long, no matter the weather, and berated you the second you started to complain. They limited your diet after your losses, claiming you needed to be lighter if you wanted the kart to go faster.

Your mother and father gave you this relentless attention with anything regarding racing, but the moment the topic drifted, you were neglected. There were no family dinners or movie nights, if you wanted something, you were going to have to buy it with your own money, and if you wanted to go somewhere, you needed to walk or find a ride because they refused to drive you anywhere if it wasn’t for a race.

There was no other family to go to even when things go impossibly rougher; you had no other relatives in the UK, and you couldn’t exactly ask your friends if you could live with them.

So you endured these conditions, all the way through the F4 British Championship, F3 and F2. You turned 18 while you were in Formula 2, and the second you did, you took the little money you had, and rented an apartment in South England, where you’ve been living ever since.

Your parents constantly contacted you in whatever ways they could, but you very quickly made sure they didn’t know where you lived and were never given paddock passes again. No one knows any of this anyway; when people ask where your parents are or when they’d get to meet them, you just shrug and say, “they couldn’t make it”

You haven’t seen your parents in person since you were 17, and you’ve done everything in your power to keep it like that.

Though with a few thousand words and 4 hours, one nosy journalist has managed to unravel all your work and growth and release it into the world.

You’re broken out of your stunned silence when Ally puts a hand on your shoulder. “I’ve set up a meeting with Alpha Tauri and Red Bull’s PR managers so we could figure out what we should do next to keep the press off your back, okay? The meeting’s in fifteen meetings, so I’ll leave you for a while”

Ally takes her phone back and exits the room to leave you standing still in the middle of it, astonished and speechless.

The meeting goes as well as you expected it to go. You shared as much as the truth as you saw fit, and came up with a statement to post with the rest of the PR managers. You were confirmed to go back to the media pen to finish interviews an hour later, and while no one asked you about the article, you could tell it was the unanswered question they all wanted to raise.

You are able to avoid most of the press of the remaining of the Italian weekend, and stuck to answering race-related questions only, your safest and only option, Ally told you later. You finished the Grand Prix P10, and flew home still sullen.

You spent the two weeks in between Monza and Japan in your apartment, regretfully thinking about all those years you had to spend under your parent’s treatment, and trying to forget them with simulator work.

You arrive in Suzuka, quiet and unsmiling, and try to ignore the shouting of the press that greets you on your way into the paddock. Ally guides you away as two new voices greet you.

“Hey Y/n, how are you?” Lewis asks, pulling you into a side hug and stepping into place beside you.

“Are you okay? You seem off” Charles says concerned, meeting you in a handshake.

“I’m fine, my flight just got in late last night so I’m tired, that’s all” You half smiled in response, hoping it was believable enough.

“Sure?” Lewis presses father. “Yeah, I’m okay” You nod.

“Okay, well, we’re still going into the city after media today?” Lewis asks. “Of course, I’ll meet you guys at my hotel after” You assure as you near the Alpha Tauri garage.

“See you then, and try to sleep a bit, yes?” Charles says before the two men walk off together.

Your friendship with the two drivers started because of the Spanish and British Grand Prix’s, the two races that gave you your two highest race finishes, and ended with two of your closest friends. Spain was a great race for both you and Lewis, yourself in P4, him in P2, and after non-stop talking in the paddock, you flew back to the UK together, effectively starting the friendship existing today.

You’d been friendly with Charles previously, but after his P9 finish in Silverstone and your P5 finish, he realized in a conversation before an interview that you were undeniably good at cheering people up, and you guys have been close since.

You’ve talked with them since Monza, of course, but not about the article. They want to talk to you about it, you can tell, but Charles and Lewis aren’t the type of people to just come right out and ask if you’re feeling okay about your history with your abusive parents being exposed to the world.

They also don’t want to pressure you into talking about something you clearly don’t want to talk about, so if all they can do is help distract you from the media, they’re going to.

Your night out with the Mercedes and Ferrari drivers does distract you; Lewis leads you and Charles to different shops and restaurants all over Suzuka, talking and laughing the entire time. You take a few photos along the way, and you go back to your hotel still smiling.

You kept your good mood until qualifying on Saturday, and are brought back into the reality of racing when you only manage P11. It’s technically not bad of a result for your car, but P9 or P8 would’ve been better right now, because all you can think about is what your parents would’ve said if you finished P11.

They’re paying you millions of dollars to race for them and the best you can do is eleventh?

You think you deserve to be here?

They are hundreds of other drivers that would do so much better than you

You are nothing compared to the other drivers

You’re lucky if you keep you seat next season, I know I wouldn’t let a P11 driver on my team

You go quiet at the thought, and get through post-race media stoic. You leave with your trainer as soon as you can, avoiding Lewis and Charles’s eyes on your way out. You have a week before you have to leave for Qatar, and spend a countless amount of hours on your simulator, hoping this time it’ll make a difference.

You flew into Lusail not knowing what to expect other than hot weather, and unfortunately you were right. You felt the heat as soon as you got in your car for FP1 on Friday and was already dreading the rest of the weekend.

You qualify P11 for both the race and the sprint, and end up in P12 for the two. You felt terrible after Sunday’s race, both physically and mentally, and you’re already berating yourself for your performance by the time you get weighed.

Charles and Lewis are in your post-race press conference group, and you can see them exchange a look after every cold and detached answer you give. You only stop to talk to your friends for a few minutes afterwards before you excuse yourself to go cool down, and leave minutes later with the defense of needing rest.

You fly back to the UK with Lewis, and you’re glad the two of you are asleep for most of the trip so Lewis won’t ask you to talk about why you’ve been so quiet.

The 10 days you have until you fly out to Austin are spent mostly on your phone, looking at all the comments people have been making about you since the article came out, saying how you probably deserved the treatment that you got, and how Alpha Tauri needs a more “stable” driver if they want to advance in the championship.

You don’t do much except exercise and train on the sim in those days, finding neither the desire or energy to do anything else.

Even though everyone is happy to be in Texas that week, you can’t find the energy to truly smile once that weekend. Charles and Lewis are practically stuck to your side, and even though you can tell they’re dying to ask you to talk about it, they only ask a few times if you wanted to tell them something, and when you denied, and simply offered companionship through silence.

It’s another sprint race, and you only pull off P12 and 13 for qualifying and the shootout, and drop a place by the end of both races.

You feel more frustrated with yourself than ever; you don’t understand why you can’t work with the car like you once used to, and you can’t even figure out how to again. You were doing so well until that fucking article came out, and all the sudden you don’t know how to drive.

The worst part about it is that every race, more and more people are realizing how you’ve been under-performing, and how people are starting to question your ability to drive for the junior Red Bull team.

You aren’t stupid, you know how things work at Red Bull, so you know that if you don’t pick your pace up soon, you could end up without a seat for the 2024 season.

This thought alone starts to destroy you, and soon you can’t even deny how burnt out you are. You pick up on the forced habit of not eating much, and making yourself to do nothing but train and look for ways to be better.

You spend the days before Mexico with data analysts and strategists, looking for any and every way to go faster. You dedicate too much time looking at successful F2 drivers, hearing Liam Lawson’s name come up too much for comfort, thinking about how Dennis Hauger had been looking fast in F2.

It’s a terribly unhealthy time killer, one that makes you look sick and go quiet. Charles and Lewis aren’t the only ones exchanging concerned looks now; multiple other drivers on the grid, friends with you or not, notice the change in your behavior and quickly grow worried when they hear Yuki’s description of you.

The drivers aren’t stupid either, they all know about the article that was published in September, and most of them would be lying if they said they hadn’t looked at it in curiosity. They’d also be lying if they saw their eyes didn’t widen in concern or eyebrows didn’t furrow with worry when they read how terrible your parents treated you.

The grid saw how the comments got nastier and nastier under your lessening social media posts every day, and even asked your PR officer multiple times to make sure she was managing your accounts and making sure you didn’t see what people had to say about your background or yourself.

They saw how you got quieter every race, how you stopped hanging out with Yuki and Charles and Lewis, no matter how many times they offered. They saw the rumors of you and your 2024 seat, how apparently Helmut Marko was paying close attention to you and the clauses in your contract.

They asked a lot, if you wanted to talk or if they could help in any way. It was always the same response; a weary smile, a small shake of the head, the words,“No, I’m fine, just tired” and an excuse that you were needed in your garage or media pen.

So they try to help in more discreet ways; when Yuki is asked about your position on Alpha Tauri or your future with Red Bull, he calmly assures that you are working hard with the team, and is doing everything possible to understand the car.

Charles, Lewis, and a few other drivers make a routine of coming to your driver’s room, most of the time just to sit with you as you look at data, or talk with you when you’re feeling up to it.

Mexico goes somehow worse than Texas, and you finish with your lowest result in F1 yet, P15. You try to be as approachable as possible in post-race media, but your sullen face gives you away.

You leave with Ally and your trainer to catch your flight to Brazil mere hours after you passed the checkered flag, and spend most of your time in Sau Paulo alone in your hotel room, replaying every hurtful comment either your mother and father or fans have said about you, and debating whether or not it was true.

You walk into the Brazilian paddock Thursday morning more grateful than you thought possible that this was the third-to-last race of your season.

And according to over twenty media sources, your third-to last race of F1.

After a public statement made by Marko talking about how Red Bull was “considering your future with their junior team” every journalist in the F1 community has decided that it means this was your last season in F1.

And honestly, you couldn’t find it in yourself to care. Whether you raced in 2024 or not, you just wanted to go home and avoid the press for three months.

It was another sprint weekend, and another terrible qualifying and shootout. You placed 15th in both sessions and kept your place in the sprint, and spent a quiet Saturday evening in your hotel.

You could feel almost every journalists eye’s turn to you as soon as you walked into the paddock on Sunday. You arrived early that afternoon to get some extra data-stuff done, only now realizing that it gave the growing group of reporters behind you more time to ask you questions.

“Y/n! Can you tell us about your future in F1?”

“Will you have a seat next year?

“Y/n, what does Helmut Marko think about your decrease in performance?”

“Does your past with your parents have anything to do with your recent race results?”

You try to keep your face emotionless as you make your way into the Alpha Tauri garage and to your drivers room. You prepare for the race with your personal trainer and look over the arranged strategies for Sau Paulo while you wait for the go-ahead to get in your car.

Due to all the crashed-out cars, you ended the race in P12 in front of Oscar Piastri and Daniel Ricciardo. Statistically speaking, it was one of your better 2023 races, but everyone knows if it wasn’t for all the DNF’s, you’d finish in the bottom five.

You know that everyone knows this because just before you walked into the media pen after your race debrief, you saw Christian Horner and Marko speaking to your team principle, and after Yuki’s P9 finish today, it didn’t take you even a second to understand who they were talking about with disappointed faces and multiple shakes of the head.

Sure, this could mean nothing. This could just be a conversation between the three people that control the top team and it’s junior team. But you also like to think you’re a bit smarter than that.

You walked deeper into the crowded area before the three could see you, and walked to the first open journalist you saw, in hopes of leaving early.

“Y/n, hi! Not too bad of a race for you today, I guess?” The man asked, pointing his microphone towards you

“Yeah, not too bad. The car felt pretty okay and there was a bit of pace, but not enough to overtake or anything, clearly” You reply.

“Can we expect more race pace from you in Las and Vegas and Abu Dhabi?”

“I mean, it’s a bit too early to tell, but we’ll hope and see what comes out out of the practices” The man nods before looking down at his notebook.

“And your seat for Alpha Tauri next year, we know you’re apart of the confirmed driver lineup for 2024 but Helmut Marko states that there are attainable clauses in your contract, what do you think about that?”

You’re caught off guard by the question, but right when you’re about to respond, the man continues.

“Surely, Alpha Tauri isn’t really considering keeping you for next season, are they?”

You’re standing in front of the man speechless now, your brain barely comprehending what’s being spoken.

“Because I know the last thing a team wants is an incapable driver that is too emotionally effected by her “traumatic” childhood to race,” the volume of his voice starts to increase, and other drivers are starting to focus on your one-sided conversation.

“I mean, c’mon, no one even believes that even happened to you, and if it did, your parents were probably right for doing it-”

Your hands are shaking, eyes are wide with shock, body suddenly freezing, and you don’t even think you’re breathing. All you can do is listen as this man goes on and on about how you’re a shitty driver and deserved how your parents treated you.

You’re only broken out of your trance when an arm clad in red wraps around your shoulders and pulls you through the paddock. You’re not even aware of the yelling from a certain Mercedes drivers gets quieter and quieter as you’re brought into your driver’s room.

You’re being sat on a couch, and suddenly Charles Leclerc’s face is right in front of you, hands on your shoulders and eyes filled with concerned. “Y/n? Y/n, look at me, please, Y/n-” Your eyes dart to him and in an instant, everything from the past five minutes comes rushing through your head, and you can’t stop the tears that start to fall down your face.

“Oh, Y/n” The Ferrari driver moves to comfort you, but stops as you begin to cover your face and move away.

“No, Y/n, it’s okay, please, let me help you, Y/n” Charles wraps his arms around you in a hug as your body begins to shake with uncontrollable sobs.

“I can’t- I can’t do this anymore, Charles” You say in between breaths.

“I have to quit or something, I can’t keep doing this Charles, I can’t” You let your head fall on his shoulder, as the man tries to calm you down.

Charles’ heart is breaking as he comforts his friend; he remembers loving his first few years in Formula 1, how everything was so new and exciting to him, he could never not want to race, not then and not now. But to hear one of his closest friends breakdown because of how much she hates being there, makes the man’s heart shatter.

The door abruptly opens, and for a moment, all you can hear is the low angry cursing of Lewis Hamilton, until he sees you and Charles, and his face immediately softens.

“Love, I’m so sorry. That guy is a complete jerk, don’t listen to him” The British man says as he takes a seat beside you and wraps an arm around your shoulders.

“I don’t know what to do anymore, I feel so stuck in this place where everyone is always talking about what happened and I don’t know how much longer I can go through it” You say, your voice breaking off with another sob.

Charles hushes you once more, exchanging a worried look with Lewis as you pull away from him again. “I’m sorry, I know I should be doing better and everything but I just can’t-” You say, voice shaky through the tears.

“Don’t for one second be sorry that you’re not competitive right now. Y/n, thousands of people are talking about the one thing that hurt you the most, and I understand why you feel this way, just please, love, for your own good, let us help you. I promise it will make you feel better” Lewis assures, grabbing your hand.

So for the first time, you do. For over an hour, you tell Charles and Lewis everything that happened when you were younger, and how the article has made you feel since then. They listen quietly, nodding once in a while to let you know they understand, and gave you a hug when you stopped talking.

“Do you feel better now?” Lewis asks.

“Yeah, not entirely, but better”

“Good, that’s all I wanted to hear,”

“Are you ready to go home now? There’s a plane waiting for us, if you want”

“Definitely. I need to go home” You say as Charles helps pack up all your things and Lewis makes sure there’s a car waiting for you two outside. As you’re all walking through the nearly-empty paddock, Charles turns to you.

“I have to go back to my garage, but please Y/n, if you ever need to talk, call me? I want to help you, I don’t want to see you like this again” The Monegasque brings you into a hug.

“I know, Charles, I will” You promise.

“Okay, I’ll see you before Vegas, yes? Feel better!” He calls as he moves backwards and further into the paddock.

“You promise?”

Lewis asks you hours later in the front of the airport in England, just about to get into separate cars.

“Yes, Lewis, I’ll call when I need” You say to the older man in a hug.

“Alright, text me when you’ve made it home and make sure you get some rest. Don’t be too hard on yourself either, you don’t give yourself enough credit for everything you do” You smile at him.

“Okay, I’ll see you before Vegas?”

“See you before Vegas!” He shouts from his already-closed car door.

When you do see the two next, they make sure you’ve made an appointment with a therapist and are setting up a meeting with your PR manager to put together a statement in regards to your well-being the past two months.

Charles and Lewis make sure the media inside the paddock is severely monitored and checked before being allowed near the drivers, and help you fall back into healthier habits.

These changes don’t happen overnight, and they don’t take affect overnight, but you do use the winter off season to make sure these changes are helpful and working.

The three month break is utilized to mentally and physically prepare yorself in time for your 2024 seat at Alpha Tauri that was re-confirmed after your P8 finishes in Las Vegas and Abu Dhabi.

The media still knows everything, and you haven’t completely forgotten your childhood, you never will, but dealing with it still gets easier.

[fanfictionismyaddiction]

Charles or Lewis x reader where reader comforts them after they were disqualified in the chinese prix? I feel so bad for them 😭😭

In the Wake of Shadows

Word count: 551

Pairing: Lewis Hamilton x Reader

Summary: After a devastating disqualification at the Chinese Grand Prix, Lewis Hamilton returns home, weighed down by disappointment.

________________________________________________________

The scent of home-cooked food filled the apartment, a warm contrast to the cold weight in Lewis’s chest. Y/N had been in the kitchen for hours, carefully preparing his favorite meal. She wanted everything to be perfect—not just the taste but the comfort it would bring.

When the door finally opened, she turned to see him standing there, his body heavy with exhaustion. His eyes were dull, his usual bright energy dimmed by the weight of the day.

“Hey, love,” she said softly, wiping her hands on a towel as she walked over to him.

Lewis barely managed a small smile, his shoulders slumping as she wrapped her arms around his waist. He exhaled a slow, shaky breath and buried his face into the crook of her neck. She felt the tension in his muscles, the quiet defeat in the way he clung to her just a second longer than usual.

“I made your favorite,” she murmured, pressing a kiss to the side of his head. “You probably didn’t eat properly today.”

Lewis let out a soft chuckle, though it lacked his usual lightness. “You always know what I need.”

She pulled back just enough to look into his eyes, brushing her thumbs across his cheeks. “Yeah, well, you take care of everyone else. Someone’s gotta take care of you.”

Guiding him to the table, she watched as he took in the meal she’d prepared—every detail meant to comfort him. He sat down, exhaling slowly. “This looks amazing, baby.”

She sat beside him, resting her hand over his. “You know, I’ve been thinking about Sunday, and I get why you’re upset. It’s frustrating and unfair. But that wasn’t on you, Lew. You already showed everyone this weekend that you’re still the GOAT.”

He shook his head, rubbing the back of his neck. “Did I, though?”

She scoffed. “You won the sprint, Lewis. You drove that car to the top. It worked out last race because of you. Sundays mess? That’s on the team, not your ability.”

He stared at her for a moment, the words sinking in. She squeezed his hand. “One bad call doesn’t erase everything you’ve done. And it sure as hell doesn’t change the fact that you’re still one of the greatest to ever do this.”

For the first time all evening, his expression softened. He turned his hand over to lace his fingers through hers, giving it a gentle squeeze. “I don’t deserve you, you know that?”

She grinned. “No, but you’re stuck with me anyway.”

He chuckled, the sound finally carrying warmth again. “Thank God for that.”

She nudged his arm. “Now eat before I start spoon-feeding you.”

Lewis smirked. “You just want an excuse to baby me, don’t you?”

She winked. “You caught me.”

As he took his first bite, a quiet sigh of relief left his lips. The weight of the disqualification still lingered, but in that moment—with Y/N by his side—he felt just a little lighter.

[formulafanfics13]

“Why was mommy yelling and crying yesterday night?”

CURRENT DRIVERS

lando norris Chokes on his orange juice. Stares at the kid like they just revealed a state secret. “Uh… Mommy stubbed her toe.” Then whispers to you across the table: “you’ve ruined me. i’m never fucking you that loud again. (i’m absolutely fucking you that loud again)”

oscar piastri Instantly goes red. “Mommy was just… emotional. You know. Grown-up stuff.” Leans close to you later and mutters: “you were literally sobbing my name. the neighbours probably called the cops.”

charles leclerc “AH- euh non non non, she was… watching a sad movie!” Pours juice like his life depends on it. Texts you later: “next time i’m gagging you. you sound too fucking hot when you cry.”

lewis hamilton Snorts mid-sip. “Mommy had a really deep… stretch. Yoga. You know?” Smirks at you over the kid’s head: “but you were crying for a different kind of release, huh?”

max verstappen Blank stare. Then: “She stubbed her soul.” Pats the kid’s head and changes the subject. Whispers later: “next time we go louder. if they already heard it, might as well make it memorable.”

yuki tsunoda Screams into a cushion. “UHHH… MOMMY WAS DOING TIKTOKS.” Kid: “Why were you saying ‘yes, yes, please’ too?” Yuki: “I HAVE TO GO.” Sends you a hundred texts later: “i’m dead. i’m deceased. let’s do it again tonight.”

carlos sainz Poker face. Very calmly: “She was upset about… uh… laundry.” Sips coffee like a mob boss. Then looks at you and mouths “you screamed. you fucking screamed.”

alex albon “Mommy was watching a scary movie!” Kid: “But you were yelling too.” Alex: “Yeah I was scared too!” Ten minutes later he’s in the other room texting you: “you were so loud. i’m proud of us.”

george russell Coughs so hard he spills milk. “Oh! She was… just… stretching!” Turns to you and says: “maybe… tone it down next time?” Then grabs your ass as soon as the kid leaves the room.

kimi antonelli Panics. “Mommy was training. For a marathon.” Kid: “What kind of marathon makes people say the f word that much?” Kimi silently slides to the floor and dies. Resurrects only to text you: “you were so hot. i’d make you cry again in a heartbeat.”

lance stroll Nods like it’s a reasonable question. “She was… meditating.” You almost spit your coffee. Later: “we really do need soundproofing. or just a ball gag. for both of us.”

fernando alonso “Because she was experiencing divine pleasure, cariño.” Kid: “What’s that?” “Exactly.” Later: “i’d do it all again. but louder.”

liam lawson “Uh. Mommy was… rehearsing.” Kid: “For what?” “…a screaming competition.” Later texts you: “next time you cry like that i’m fucking recording it.”

isack hadjar “Uhhh… she was watching Titanic!” Kid: “She said ‘don’t stop’ like ten times.” Isack: “She didn’t want the movie to end!” Later: “i made you cry so pretty. we’re doing that again.”

nico hülkenberg “Your mom was working out.” Kid: “Why did it sound like slapping?” Hulkenberg: “Ask your mom.” Later kisses your neck and says: “you were so wet i nearly lost it. louder next time?”

gabriel bortoleto Eyes go wide. He’s mid-chew and just freezes. “Uhhh… Mommy was crying because… she… stubbed her heart?” Kid: “But it sounded like she was laughing too.” Gabriel: “Yeah. She laughed and cried. At the same time. Women are powerful like that.” Later, in your ear: “you sounded so pretty crying for me… let’s make it a tradition.”

ollie bearman Freezes. “Mommy was… stretching her emotions.” Kid: “There was a bang.” Ollie, under his breath: “Fucking hell.” Sends you voice notes later: “still hard thinking about last night.”

esteban ocon “Oh god.” “She was… testing a new pillow.” Kid: “Why were you saying ‘fuck yes’?” Esteban: “That’s how adults test softness.” Then texts you: “i love when you sob. it’s perfect. i’m obsessed.”

pierre gasly Laughs out loud. “She was crying because she was being loved very well.” Kid: “What does that mean?” Pierre: “You’ll understand when you’re older. And you’ll never reach my level.” To you later: “you’re mine. forever. and i’m gonna make you scream again tonight.”

franco colapinto Turns redder than a Ferrari. “She… fell. Emotionally.” Kid: “You said ‘take it.’” Franco: dead Later: “i love making you cry. in the good way. let’s break the bed tonight.”

Others

jack doohan “Oh… she was just… expressing herself.” Kid: “She said your name a lot.” Jack: “Because she loves me. Deeply.” Later to you: “you’re mine. i’ll make you cry again. and again.”

mick schumacher Blushes so hard he nearly faints. “She was watching a sad movie.” Kid: “Why were you grunting?” Mick: “...I was working out.” Then texts you: “i love when you get that loud. it’s my favorite sound.”

sebastian vettel Looks the kid dead in the eyes. “Because I made her feel good. That’s what love sounds like.” Kid: “Oh. Okay.” Turns to you: “you’re mine. and i’m never being quiet again.”

kimi räikkönen “Because she wanted to.” Kid: “Was she hurt?” “No.” “Was she happy?” “Very.” Then walks off and texts you: “i like when you cry. moan more next time.”

toto wolff Composes himself. “She was emotionally overwhelmed. It happens.” Kid: “You both were.” Toto: “...yes. We were.” Later to you: “you were shaking so hard i thought the bed would break. Let's do it again.”

james vowles Shocked silence. “She was… well… it’s complicated.” Kid: “You both were complicated.” James, later: “i’ve never loved a sound more than you crying my name.”

paul aron Panics. “She… uh… got passionate about a sports game!” Kid: “What sport makes you say ‘harder’?” Paul: “Wrestling.” Later: “i’ll wrestle you again. naked.”

arthur leclerc “Uhhh… she was listening to sad music?” Kid: “You were singing too.” Arthur: “We were… in a band.” Later: “you’re my favorite song. i want to hear you scream again.”

pato o’ward “She was worshipping god.” Kid: “Huh?” “Different kind of religion.” Texts you: “next time i’m recording those moans and using them as a ringtone.”

david coulthard “She was overwhelmed. But in a good way.” Kid: “Why did the bed squeak?” David: “Because I’m very, very good at making her happy.” Later: “you want to cry again, sweetheart? beg for it.”

jenson button “Because I was ruining her life in the best way.” Kid: “Huh?” “Nothing.” Later: “i’m going to fuck you till you cry again tonight. louder.”

checo pérez “Because Mommy was blessed.” Kid: “You sounded like you were working out.” “I was. Deeply. Inside her.” Then texts you: “i’m still hard from it. want round two?”

christian horner “Because I did something very right.” Kid: “She cried a lot.” Christian: “She’ll cry again tonight.” Later: “you’re not sleeping until you scream.”

logan sargeant Looks at you in panic. “Uh… she was watching a sad documentary.” Kid: “You were groaning.” Logan: “I’m… passionate about history.” Later: “i’ve never loved a sound more than you crying while i fuck you.”

nico rosberg “She was yelling because I was taking care of her.” Kid: “She said your name five times.” Nico: “She’ll say it again tonight.” Then: “you make the prettiest sounds. i need them again.”

valtteri bottas “She was releasing tension.” Kid: “It sounded like you were hitting something.” Valtteri: “I was. Repeatedly.” Later: “bend over again tonight and let’s make the headboard shake.”

[bunny-jpeg]

belonging

lewis hamilton

tags: smut/pwp, curvy!reader, dirty talk, (slight) jealousy, doggy style, established relationship, big chest & wide hips, praise, fashion & clothing

a/n: lewis hamilton is so pretty what the fuck

you weren't the most fashionable person. despite your degree in design and your eye for it, you got pleasure in dressing others up. and lewis could understand that, but still tried to help you experiment a little more with style.

"you make everyone look good, love. time you look good as well." he chuckled before he kissed you on the lips.

"i'm not a barbie doll, honey." you giggled when he tried to egg you on to try one more outfit.

"no, of course not! the blond piece of plastic cannot compare to you." he leaned in to kiss you on the lips. you leaned in to him and he held your rounded face for a moment, "one more, and then we can go home." and while he was a guiding hand, nothing could prepare him for the outfit you chose while he was testing with ferrari.

it was nothing over the top. but simplicity sometimes meant good. and with the dress that stopped at your mid-thigh in a dazzling lilac colour and made of a fabric that held to your curves perfectly. especially your breasts, which made lewis do a double take.

his often tired lover who spent so many hours in your little 'workshop', dressed in over sized t-shirts and bigger hoodies, to see something so close to your body made him tense up for a moment. his dark eyes held shock as he admired you.

you looked around for a moment before you took off your dark sunglasses and tapped the arm of them against your soft full bottom lip. your gaze darted around to see is you could spot your partner. when you did see him, you weren't paying any attention to the couple of lingering stares at you. you waved at lewis and quickly went over to him. he could feel the pounding in your chest before he went met you with open arms.

he felt his heartbeat skin when he got armfuls of you. you looked into his eyes and smiled before you kissed him. your kiss tasted like artificial peach and he loved it.

what he didn't like was how a few engineers and assistants took a good look at you. lewis wrapped an arm around your middle to hold you closer. he simply flashed you a winner's smile and asked, "where did you get this?"

you leaned back a little and replied, "well, i took some advice from you and put it together with some fabric i had leftover. the one from the other dress i made for that client. i thought the colour was nice."

"well, it looks amazing on you." he said with total and utter affection for you. he then caught a glimpse of a worker, but their gaze was taken from you when lewis caught them. lewis looked back to you and kissed you on the lips, "go get seated, we're going to start soon." except part of him wished you had a neon sign that said,

"my boyfriend is sir lewis hamilton, do not touch!"

lewis was not possessive by any means! he trusted and loved you, there was no need more something petty like possession. he just didn't like you being mentally undressed by others. you kissed him once more before he watched you walk off to where you needed to go for the practice. he clenched his hands in his red gloves for a moment and got it together. it was time to drive.

it felt like days had passed by the time he got another grasp of you. and somehow after only about three hours of testing, you had became more beautiful. when you kissed him, you simply lit up. and in turn you lit him up. and that light shined through an excellent training. it lasted until you both got back to the rented apartment for the visit.

once in private, your beloved lewis was more vocal along with his hands on your hips as he pressed against you. his kisses grew needy, he yearned for his lovely lady's perfect body.

he caught your gaze on him, doing more than just observing as you licked your lips. he said to you softly, "like what you see, gorgeous?" then started to take off his t-shirt.

"you worry about people staring at me, meanwhile you look like the finest statue the greeks could ever make!" lewis laughed and you continued, "fuck, you look better than that. you look perfect." you reached out for him and you two kissed once more.

you were soon chest to chest as he admired you, "and you look beautiful as well. make anyone jealous." he chuckled lightly, "beautiful and smart. perfect."

your placed a hand on his chest before he turned with you in his arms and led you towards the bedroom. you got up onto the bed once you were close enough and lewis only crowded your space. his hands on the fabric of your dress, but he yearned for what was underneath.

"i want you." he said with total conviction. he laid you out on the bed and touched you with careful hands. he felt his pulse pick up, "i want all of ferrari to know you are mine. the woman who keeps this engine running." his cock twitched in his pants as he undid his belt slowly.

you helped him out of his clothes and soon after you were both naked. your pretty dress thrown over top of his blue jeans. you pressed against him and the kisses intensified. you moaned against his lips and felt the shudder of want through you. it only grew in heat when lewis got you onto your stomach with your hips raised to meet his hard cock. you let out a small noise from the anticipation of sex with him.

"all to myself. you know i love you deeply. i trust you, but knowing i can have you and none of those engineers can does get me going. especially when you look so good on the track. i can't get enough of you. you have no idea what you've done to me." his words grew the heat between you two as he rubbed his hard cock up against your behind, "i love you."

"and i love you, honey." you said before you moaned. there was a moment of tension then you relaxed to accept all of him. you let out another sweet moan that made lewis feel pleasure rush through him as he started to move again you.

he leaned up against you as he rutted up against you. the angle let him hit all the right spots. he could feel the pleasure on the tip of his tongue like unspoken words. "look at you." he said softly as he moved. the movements plus his hands on your wider hips, the flesh of your ass bounced with each thrust. he loved it, he loved you. remnants of your perfume clouded his head as he kissed your shoulder, "as much as i'd love a million photos in every angle of you. i guess i'll just have to take mental ones."

you squirmed, "i didn't know that you liked it all that much. i just put it together, i would've put more time into it if i had known" you moaned into the pillow you held on tightly to and arched your back a little more.

"i love it. you look stunning." he let out a small goran as his pace quickened. you were well aware of your curves and to hear them so thoroughly praised made your cheeks hot.

you replied, "maybe i should make another dress. let you pick out the fabric, i think i'd make the back dip a little bit more." you grew warmer, "it'll let you touch my skin when you hold my back."

"i'd love that. i want to watch you work, you always get these lines right between your eyebrows. it's sweet." he laughed as his hips worked against your ass. the movements continued, his breathing was heavy from the exertion of his thrusts. the pleasure was a comfortable warmth in his body. it was a steady pounding of his heart while sweat dampened his tattooed back.

he loved you, the feeling of you. his words were filthy as he said to you, "from the moment i saw you, i knew we'd be together for a long time. you are mine and i am yours." he exhaled deeply, "have never tasted, felt, loved, fucked anyone quite like you. being with you is everything i crave. it doesn't hurt that others are jealous of what i have by my side. you." his words were like honey on his soul as you felt the pleasure course through your body. aided by his words.

the temperature rose and you could feel the burn of heat high on your cheeks while lewis continued his rough movements against you. he leaned over you, his core tightened as pleasure built up in his sweaty body. he wanted to make you feel what he saw every day. the most beautiful in the world.

you held on tightly and let the feeling wash over you. you loved the feeling even as your thighs quivered, your heart was racing and your head felt a rush. even after all the times you were intimate, it felt better each time. it was an experience that built every time you were intimate.

"lewis." you moaned. your hips shifted and you swore into the covers. you licked the dryness away from your lips after your gloss stained the pillowcase.

lewis was encouraged by your airy moans. his movements were quick, his broad hands on your plush hips. you felt amazing, your cunt took him perfectly as he moved at a steady yet quick pace. he couldn't help himself, you simply felt too amazing.

there was a softness to you that only turned him on further. curves that made him excited, breasts that made his throat dry, soft cheeks that made his cock twitch in his pants with a want to finish across them. the want he had for you was undeniable!

"fuck, honey." you moaned loudly. your toes curled as the pleasure started to reach its peak. you shakily exhaled.

"next time, i want to look at you while you finish. i want to see that beautiful face as i ruin you." and you came from his erotic words.

"yes, yes! fuck!" you near yelled as the fire of lust reached its peak and you came around his cock. which in turn made him pick up the pace to reach his own climax. lewis moaned a little louder and he gave it a few more thrusts before he finished inside of you with a tension in his body. he continued to work your body through his orgasm and enjoyed the feeling of you around his length.

his head swam as he slowed to a stop, and he panted heavily. he leaned in to kiss you on the back, he said softly, "i love you."

"and i love you." he replied before you both laid out in the bed. the two of you kissed once more, you held his face and felt his affection warm you while on top of the covers.

eventually he pulled away, hi brown eyes gazed into yours. his breathing heavy as he asked, "can i have a little bit if input when you make another drss for yourself. there are some things i'd love to see you in."

"of course. but only if it can have pockets too." you poked him on the chest, "i need pockets." your smiled was small, blissed out around the edges.

"of course, beautiful. of course." <3

[doujindungeon]

summary: while you were upset at lewis after a recent argument, perhaps it wasn't the wisest idea to try and test your lover's endurance in bed. rating: nc-17 pairing: f!reader/lewis content warnings: established relationship, smut, marathon sex, missionary/doggy style/cowgirl, a bit of spanking and hair pulling, the loving wrath of 7-time world drivers champion lewis hamilton word count: 0.7k previous one-shot - toto w. | next one-shot - charles l.

“You know, I could die like this.”

A sigh of absolute satisfaction.

It was a serene sound compared to the abrasive noise of a water bottle being crunched and tossed aside after it was emptied of its contents from a quick chug just a moment before.

For Lewis, some hydration was needed after such a vigorous exhibition of his stamina.

Calm and relaxed as ever, his gorgeous muscled physique glistening with sweat, nude skin bathed by the low warm lighting from the ceiling, he carried himself as the textbook definition of ethereal.

Your current state told a completely different tale.

By contrast, you were sprawled on the bed, hair disheveled and make-up smeared as you gulped down the bottle of coconut water that your boyfriend fetched from the kitchen while you caught your breath earlier.

At this point in your relationship, you were well aware that Lewis was fierce in his discipline when it came to his craft of driving. Training, focus, determination–there was not a sliver of slack in any aspect.

And for as long as you’ve been together, you were well familiar with how passionate and doting he could be during intimacy. A couple hours being delightfully tangled together in bed at a luxurious tropical bungalow oceans away, a quick and needy fix on the couch in his driver’s room whenever you were able to make it out to a race.

This was what you were used to.

But to bear the merciless brunt of his stamina in bed–to put it simply, you were unprepared.

After all, upon Lewis bringing you back home after an argument that burst forth towards the end of your recent vacation together–a spat that bubbled and brewed from you feeling as though your place in his life was relegated to last place in the grand scope of his legacy–, when he casually declared that he would prove and demonstrate his resolve to devote his heart, soul and body to you within this night alone, he meant it.

From the moment the door closed behind as he herded you straight into the bedroom, time turned into a complete and utter blur, with the firm surface of his king sized bed serving as the only anchor that kept you grounded to reality as your lover kept you absolutely overwhelmed with dizzying euphoria.

At one point, he was pounding you straight into the mattress, his tattooed hands locked onto your thighs to keep them spread wide apart so he could drill his thick cock into your core over and over.

The next, he had you on all fours upon the bed, the lewd rhythm of his hips–and his palm here and there–striking against your ass making for an obscene symphony, your moans and squeals mingling in seamlessly with his grunts and curses while his fingers maintained a commanding grip on your hair.

When he then had you seated on his lap, his fingers squeezed your waist as he guided and coaxed you through the tempo under which you bounced upon his dick by, the two of you locked in a kiss as his tongue probed into your mouth right as he pumped another load of cum into your cunt.

True to his word, he had certainly made his case.

Still, while you were thoroughly delighted to receive his fierce display of his affection for you, seeing the beaming pride on his handsome features had you pouting in-between sips of your coconut water.

“Well take it easy, Sir Hamilton,” you huffed out at last in response, eyeing him warily. “You’re at the age where you shouldn’t be pushing yourself too much.”

His eyes sparked.

Fitting, since you may as well have set the entire house ablaze by your remark.

“Aha–I know fighting words when I hear them, lovely.”

While he let out a chuckle, the way he stalked back towards the bed, back towards you, was far from humorous.

Just by the way he looked at and approached you, deep in your bones you knew he wasn’t going to let up until you were absolutely devastated, especially as his voice dipped down to a deep purr as he continued, “I can keep this up, but can you?”

In response, you simply downed the rest of your drink, setting the empty bottle aside on the bedside table.

Defiance in your eyes, rebellion on your smile–you responded simply with,

“See for yourself.”

He was back on you in an instant.

But he wouldn’t be content with only seeing. Rather, he would be kissing, teasing, toying, licking, groping, possessing, and punishing you until the break of dawn and beyond.

-----------------------

🤸‍♀️ SIR LEWDIS HAMILTON EVERYBODY 🤸‍♀️

i'm cryin tho i originally had the reader rehydrate with gatorade but after i started thinking more about it, i found out that gatorade isn't vegan??????? LEWIS THE THINGS I RESEARCH AND ADJUST IN MY WRITING TO ACCOMODATE YOUR VEGAN LIFESTYLE 😭😭

but with this!!! we finally approach the end of this run of one-shots with charles tomorrow!!! thank you again for your support and i hope to see you all tomorrow for the finale!!! 🙇‍♀️❤️