#Seren Black | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

httpsserene · 3 months

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𝐦𝐚𝐦𝐚 𝐲 𝐩𝐚𝐩𝐚 - 𝐥𝐧. 𝟒 (& 𝐨𝐩. 𝟖𝟏)

summary: you and lando are blessed with a beautiful baby boy. content warning: fluff, humor, slightly suggestive at times, and mainly crack/shitpost energy. reader owns & works in her bakery in monaco. images used are not mine. pairing: lando norris x fem!black!reader (& platonic oscar pastry) genre: smau & written fic combination (it's a longgg one)

author's notes: y'all i'm warning you i took it too far this time. it's long aslllll. but it might be the best thing i've ever offered to f1 tumblr in my entire career.

grab a snack, drink, and tuck yourself into a comfortable position xxx

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imessage • preseason 2023

That’s how you find yourself outside of the MTC in the mid-morning two days later. You’re mildly…exhausted, after commandeering the kitchen in Lando’s Silverstone flat to make a sickening amount of banana bread to feed all of McLaren. After tipping your Uber to the MTC double what the ride costs (for allowing you to stuff his car with a hundred pounds of your decadent treat and helping you unload them into the lobby), you’re greeted with warm welcomes and hungry eyes from the staff. Eager to eat, they’re quick to find you a couple of carts to help you move all the banana bread to the communal area. You’re walking backward to make sure none of your sliced loaves fall, smiling with all the workers as they follow you through the building. Setting up shop, you hand out your sliced banana bread, chatting and catching up with everyone as they sing praises over your sweet treat. Word travels around the MTC quickly when it comes to you bringing baked goods and it comes as no surprise to you when you see a perplexed and overwhelmed Oscar Piastri join the line. You’re bursting with excitement and anticipation by the time he’s picking up his slice.

“Thank you for the banana bread,” Oscar expresses softly, his smile boxy.

“Oh, of course,” you dismiss his gratitude lightly, struggling to keep your cuteness aggression at bay, “I’ve been doing this for the factory since Lando joined–and I figured it would be a good welcoming gift for you!”

“Wait–are you Lando’s girlfriend?” Oscar chokes on his bite of bread.

You rush forward to pat his back, ordering for someone to get him a glass of water; you would hate to be responsible for the death of Mclaren’s rookie driver. When his airways are cleared, you exchange proper greetings and you are quick to make sure Lando has been treating him well.

“Honestly, I should’ve known it was you” Oscar chuckles, “Lando cannot stop talking about you. Zak had to establish a rule that only allowed him to mention you two times an hour.”

“That must have been rough for him,” you snort dryly, “the rule was five times an hour last year. Anyways, Oscar–who do you main on Mario Kart? This could make or break our friendship.”

You find yourself enamored with Oscar as the conversation goes on. He stands and keeps you company as you continue to hand out banana bread. It’s mostly you doing the talking; Oscar’s quiet, a man of few words but he listens well. He has a sarcastic sense of humor that is similar to Lando’s yet completely different: Lando’s jokes are loud, Oscar’s are hushed. He’s humble, shy even, flustering when you lightly tease him. You’re well past having Oscar as your friend—you’re convinced that he’s achieved little brother or son status.

“Banana Bread!” Zak shouts as he walks up to the two of you, Lando at his side, “Please tell me this is your homemade version?”

“I would never settle for store-bought banana bread,” you gasp dramatically, “It’s homemade as always, Zak. This time I did my grandmother’s recipe instead of my own.”

The CEO practically jumps with glee and rushes to grab a couple of slices–he’s only had this version of the dessert once, and swore it changed his life. Lando walks to you, pressing a kiss to your temple before nodding at Oscar.

“What do you think, love, “Lando hums to you softly, “Did he pass the test?”

You blink up at him and whisper, “I invited him over for dinner tonight—do you think we can use one of the printers here to print out adoption forms?”

bahrain • 2023

After qualifying, it felt like you and Zak were the only people in the garage who remained optimistic for race day. Lando was less than pleased with placing 11th; he parroted words of positivity and hope for improvement but in the privacy of your hotel room he crumbled. He buried his face in your neck muffling just how low his expectations for this season are. You tried to convince him it was too early in the season—the first race weekend—to make that decision but, he was too in his feelings to see reason.

Oscar was disappointed in himself for placing 18th. When he took off his helmet after returning to the garage, you could see the doubt in his skills lingering through his eyes. You pulled him to sit with you as you continued to wait for the second session to begin and gently reassured him that this wasn’t an accurate representation of his skills; Formula One is a massive change from Formula Two. Oscar nodded at your reassurance but you could tell he was still freshly in shock at his “terrible” performance so your logical advice wasn’t believed.

On race day, however, you found your positivity dip as well. Oscar DNF’d on lap 13 and rage filled the spot that optimism used to inhabit. The Australian was handling his retirement better than you were; he brushed off everybody’s apologies and went straight to reviewing his data and watching Lando’s race—you, however, wanted to snap at any of his mechanics that walked by. It wasn’t like Lando’s race was any better if you could call what he was doing a race. Slow pit stops, six pit stops at that, the fast lap gamble failure, finishing last, and being two laps down from the race leader…Zak took one glance at you and quickly made himself scarce.

You rode back with both of the boys to the hotel and nearly cried for them with how down the mood was. On the walk to your rooms, Oscar attempted to exchange goodbyes with you and Lando before you cut him off.

“Uh-uh, nope,” you shook your head, “I pre-ordered dinner for us. Come eat?”

Oscar stuttered, “O-oh? I don’t want to intrude–”

“Oscar Jack Piastri,” both he and Lando winced at the sound of his full name, “I’m not going to let either one of you go to bed on an empty stomach. You’re going to eat dinner with me and Lan and you’re going to drink several glasses of water so I can make sure you’re properly rehydrated. Understood?”

“I would love to have dinner with you guys,” Oscar blinked at you in fear, “Also, how do you know my middle name?”

You laughed as you unlocked the door, holding it open for both of the boys as you walked in, “I had a wonderful conversation with your mother, of course.”

“When did you meet my mom?!”

australia • 2023

You were on the edge of losing your voice as you screamed and cheered with Nicole Piastri and Adam Norris for both of the McLaren boys and their double points finishes. The two drivers finishing in the midfield felt like the team had figured something out for Oscar’s home race (if you ignored how almost half of the drivers retired their cars). The Piastri’s invited everyone to a local restaurant to celebrate Oscar’s first points in Formula One, but before you and Lando headed out, the two of you nearly lost your minds.

The two of you forced him to pose with his car and take several pictures with it, strongly suggesting that he smiles big and wide for the camera. Fernando and Lewis walked by and burst into laughter, claiming that you and Lando were treating Oscar like a child. So, obviously, the two of you committed to the bit. You guys cooed and called Oscar’s name, clapping and jumping to pretend like he was a toddler whose attention needed to be grabbed to have him look at the camera. The rookie cringed in embarrassment, cheeks burning red as he tried to convince you guys to stop making a fuss over him.

Lando gasped, sickened at Oscar’s words, “Oscar! How could you say such a thing to your mother and me? We only want to celebrate our boy!”

You nodded furiously in agreement, nearly breaking character at the dumbfounded look that rose to the Australian’s face.

“What the fuck,” Oscar blurted out, yet he continued to smile for your camera.

“Oh my god!” You said appalled, “Lando did you teach our son that foul language?! I told you not to curse in front of the baby!”

instagram • bakewithyn • april 6th • melbourne ⚑

liked by, oscarpiastri, landonorris, mclaren, markwebber, and 413,257 others

bakewithyn: happy birthday oscar 🥳 there’s no birthday gift like scoring your FIRST EVER POINTS in f1 at your HOME race but !!! i’m super happyyy you enjoyed the 🐨 cookies i made for you (lando helped ig 😐) 🤗🤗🤗

tagged oscarpiastri

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📌 yninstagram ps! these are limited edition cookies at my bakery for oscar piastri day!!! first come first serve until sell out! all proceeds go to the australian koala foundation as it was oscar’s personal request 😇

➥ user charitable king shit fr 👑

➥ user FUCK i wish i was rich enough to visit/live in monaco

➥ user don't worry, they're nearly sold out already and the bakery opened three hours ago !!!!

nicolepiastri these were so tasty! i wish i had your baking skills

➥ yninstagram tysm mama piastri !!! i'm blushing

➥ user mama piastri???? im crying

user the koala photo with the bow 😩

➥user what r u talking about?? i only see a picture of oscar with a bow?

➥ user fr i only see oscar 😵‍💫

user "lando helped ig" what did he do? look pretty the entire time you baked LMAO

➥ landonorris actually i was allowed to put the ingredients in the bowls AND preheat the oven too 😤

➥ landonorris and i always look pretty wtf

➥ user omg...yn gave him the toddler tasks 💀💀💀

oscarpiastri the cookies were so good! they nearly tasted better than my first points felt

➥ yninstagram omg high praise from the man himself 🤯

➥ oscarpiastri had to fight my sisters to make sure they didn't only leave me with crumbs

➥ user oh i understand that eldest sibling battle

➥ user my little sisters bite i think they have rabies

➥ user oh what a shame. euthanasia is an option 🤗

miami • 2023

The energy after Miami was rightfully terrible. The car is shit; Lando lost a position from where he qualified to make him P17 and Oscar maintained his P19. It’s hot, and humid, and everyone in the garage is miserable. McLaren is a family. When the boys don’t do good, everybody understands and feels their pain. Nobody likes seeing the boys with frowns on their lips and sadness in their eyes, but it’s becoming a usual appearance during this season. So to turn those frowns upside down, you went on a hunt for some cold treats. You got Lando a frozen lemonade and Oscar an ice cream sandwich—it’s a safe choice, you hadn’t necessarily thought about asking him what kind of ice cream he prefers.

You found Oscar staring at the wall, eyes focused forward but his mind somewhere else. You tapped him gently on the shoulder, offering him a small smile when he looked at you. He tried to offer you a smile of his own but couldn’t manage to hold it for more than a couple seconds. You presented the ice cream sandwich to him and he looked at you in surprise, as if he couldn’t believe you would give it to him.

“F-for,” his voice cracks awkwardly, “For me?”

You hummed, ruffling his hair and taking a seat on the couch next to him, “No, for the King of England. Yes–for you Oscar.”

He thanked you shyly and quickly began to unwrap the packaging, munching away happily. You took a second to text Lando your location and inform him of the frozen lemonade waiting for him, and when you turned to look back at Oscar—the kid was a mess. He wasn’t even a quarter of the way through the dessert sandwich and you’re convinced he managed to spill more of it than he ingested. The ice cream was painted across the lower half of his face and dripping down his hands–you caught a drop of it with a napkin before it fell and stained his shirt.

“Jesus, Oscar!” you scolded him, “I look away for two seconds and you make a mess!”

Oscar shrugged at you, feigning innocence, but you saw the staple redness of embarrassment begin to tint his chubby cheeks. You snapped your fingers in remembrance before you moved to rifle through your purse, Oscar staring at you with wide eyes as he continued to snack away. You exclaimed in delight, showing off a pair of wet wipes you remembered to bring with you. Oscar accepted the offered wipes and you watched carefully to make sure he removed all the smudges of ice cream from his hands and face.

“Hi, lovely girl,” Lando approached you, throwing himself onto the sofa next to you. He gave you a soft kiss on the lips and temple before grabbing his now lemonade slushy and taking a look at Oscar.

“Woah, mate,” Lando teased, “Did you lose in a fight against the ice cream sandwich?”

Oscar rolled his eyes and ignored Lando as he finished cleaning up. Once he was done, you gathered all of the dirty wipes on the table to be thrown away. You and Lando both watched Oscar as he ate the rest of his snack in fear of another mess occurring—and, then you had a bright idea. Leaning forward, you took a dry napkin and tucked it into the collar of his McLaren polo, creating a makeshift bib.

“Lando, remind me to get our son ice cream in a cup from now on!”

twitter • may 14th

instagram • landonorris • may 23rd • monte carlo ⚑

liked by, bakewithyn, charlesleclerc, fernandoalonso, and 502,113 others

landonorris: does it still count as a date night if your boy and his best friend are building legos in the next room🤨

tagged bakewithyn, oscarpiastri, logansargeant

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user "your boy" WTF DOES THAT MEAN ‼️‼️‼️

user they're building legos before the race weekend starts 🤧

user has oscar been staying with lando since last week?

➥ user i thought he was just sleeping over for one night 🧐

adamnorris does this make me a grandfather?

➥ user what the hell is happening

➥ landonorris um? surprise haha 😀

bakewithyn it's a great date night! it's comforting knowing ozzy's in the next room over

➥ bakewithyn i have separation anxiety :)

➥ landonorris me too omg this was my best idea ever

➥ user this is like a reverse 13th reason- it's like my 1st reason i'm glad to be alive

➥ user ozzy 🫠

landonorris logan and osc just went silent. chat, should i be worried?

➥ user i'll bet my life savings that one of them has a lego shoved up their nose 😬

➥ user when kids go quiet it's never good !!!!

qatar • 2023

You cried an embarrassing amount of times this weekend. Your son won his first sprint race in his Formula One career, and his father—your boyfriend—was up there on the podium with him to celebrate. It seems like you have to make another special dessert for your bakery to celebrate both of your boys, but you can worry about brainstorming ideas when you stop crying into Andrea Stella’s shoulder in the middle of the pit lane. You’re sure that your face will be posted all over Twitter in a couple of hours.

A part of you wished that Lando had won the sprint race, just as he probably wanted the same thing. But, as both of you made eye contact with each other over Oscar’s head, the Australian rambling endlessly as he hugged his trophy on your hotel room floor, both of you knew that there was no better outcome this weekend than Oscar getting a taste of victory. Lando’s win will come in due time. A P2, P3 finish on Sunday was just the proof everyone needed of McLaren’s improvement and the threat they may pose to Red Bull next year.

são paulo • 2023

You had the Grand Prix playing on your phone as you did some prep work for the bakery. The race ended and you couldn’t help but feel happy, yet relieved for the race to be over for different reasons. Lando had a wonderful drive today, and Oscar had the opposite; you were just glad it wasn’t a DNF for him.

You had only just begun wiping down the counters when the sound of the post-race show is interrupted by the ringtone you have set for Oscar. You paused quickly, scooping your phone up to answer.

“Hi, Ozzy,” you cooed gently, “How are you feeling? Sorry about your race buddy, that was unfortunate.”

“It happens, I guess. I feel like shit, mostly. Like I let the team down.”

“No way, Oscar! You’re not letting anybody down. Your race result today wasn’t the result of your skills, it was the result of being in the wrong place at the wrong time. It was a racing incident. If anybody tells you differently, let me know. I’ll rip their vocal cords out.”

Oscar’s laugh crackled through the receiver. “Yes, mum. I’ll let you know. I really want some of your chocolate chip cookies, they’re the perfect bad race remedy.”

“Well, I’m flying out in a few hours to meet you guys in Brazil so I can celebrate Lando’s—sorry, excuse me—your father’s birthday with him. I think there may be some time for me in my schedule to make some cookies with you.”

“Really? We should make some for Lando too! Wait, before you leave, I left his birthday gift—”

“—In our apartment, I remember! I already packed it in my luggage, I wouldn’t forget.”

“You’re the best, seriously.”

“Mhm, I know. Also, we should share some of these cookies with Charles too, his radio message made me cry.”

“Okay, he can have one cookie.”

“Oscar Jack,” you said dryly.

“Yes, sharing is caring or whatever. He can have like...two.”

instagram • bakewithyn • november 13th • las vegas ⚑

liked by, mclaren, landonorris, f1, oscarpiastri and 353,764 others

bakewithyn: happy birthday to lando norris. he's a pretty cool guy, a great dad, and the perfect boyfriend. love you lots, baby, and i'll love you forever xxx

tagged landonorris

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user wait is this a pregnancy announcement 😨

user this is giving engagement reveal

charlesleclerc bro. if i didn't know you guys i would think your caption was serious 😣

➥ bakewithyn get pranked LOL XD

➥ user oh i feel like i just got catfished

➥ user wait so lando didn't propose nor did he put a baby in her 😒

➥ user I WANTED A BABY NORRIS

➥ user oscar exists? he's literally their child

oscarpiastri no fr i thought i was about to learn i had a sibling otw from this post

➥ bakewithyn ozzy we would've told you???

➥ landonorris you literally bought the card for me

➥ oscarpiastri a boy can hope for a younger sibling can he not :(

➥ bakewithyn so close 😚 no you can't! hope that helps xo

➥ landonorris sorry osc, it's your mum's decision 🤷‍♂️

➥ user does this mean lando wants an actual kid

mclaren admin was terrified ngl 😅

➥ mclaren i thought you really posted an engagement and pregnancy reveal without letting me know 😭

➥ landonorris sorry admin, i'll keep you in the loop in the future

➥ user landoyn engagement soon??????

twitter • november 18th • las vegas ⚑

twitter • preseason 2024

miami • 2024

Lando had you pinned to the wall in his driver's room, with his hands tangled in your curls and his mouth devouring yours. Your moans are muffled into his lips as you grind against his thigh. You tried to multitask, struggling to pull his driver’s suit down. Lando lifted you slightly, encouraging you to wrap your legs around his waist and neither of you cared to pull away at the sound of your foot hitting his P1 trophy and knocking it over. One of his hands fell from your hair to grasp at the smooth brown skin of your neck, his palm acting as a warm weighted choker on your throat and you broke away from the kiss to moan.

“Fuck, Lando—get naked,” you whined desperately, “we don’t have much time for you to tease me right now!”

Lando laughed as he moved to press kisses along your jawline and behind your ear. You felt his lips part on your skin, his breath ghosting over you causing goosebumps to rise, but it’s not his voice you hear.

“Lando, they need us for pictures—OH MY GOD WHAT THE FUCK,” yelped Oscar, the sound of his hand smacking over his eyes reverberating around the room.

You shrieked in surprise, pushing your boyfriend away from you as you speedily readjusted your clothes. Lando positioned himself in front of you, his back facing you allowing you a little more privacy as he speedily fixed his suit around his waist.

“Learn how to knock, kid,” Lando huffed, no shame found in his words, “You interrupted my winning celebration.”

You screamed in dismay, slapping the back of Lando’s head and Oscar began to stumble out of the room, bumping into the doorframe as he still covered his eyes.

“Yeah, knock in the future, I understand,” Oscar sounds like he’s about to cry, “I feel like I just saw my mum and dad having sex!”

instagram • bakewithyn • may 12th • mama's house ⚑

liked by oscarpiastri, alexandrasaintmleux, landonorris, and 551,012 others

bakewithyn: LOOK AT MY SON 🥺🥺 PRIDE IS NOT THE WORD IM LOOKING FOR 🗣️🗣️🔊🔊 (happy mother's day to all the beautiful mamas x)

tagged oscarpiastri

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oscarpiastri did dad get you anything 🙃

➥ user 👀👀👀

➥ landonorris well i would've if SOMEBODY told me we were celebrating this year 🤬🤬🤬🤬

➥ oscarpiastri i didn't know i *had* to tell you

➥ user wowwwww lando

➥ user shameful honestly 😕

markwebber happy milf day

➥ markwebber *mother's day sorry typo

➥ bakewithyn what the fuck ☠️☠️☠️

➥ user that was not a typo mark

➥ user sir u are not slick LMAO

➥ bakewithyn i mean...oscar wouldn't mind a step dad, his fatther didn't get me anything today :(

➥ landonorris AYO BABY PLEASE 🧎‍♂️

oscarpiastri you know what would be an even better mother's day gift? getting a puppy 🤭

➥ bakewithyn we are not getting a puppy ozzy.

➥ landonorris should've clued me in osc i might've convinced her for you

➥ oscarpiastri :[

monaco • 2024

You’re about to crash THE FUCK out. At first, it was a little half-joke. Oscar’s home race in Australia, his 1/16th home race in China, and his 3/16th home race in Italy. You originally thought his tweet about “searching for his Monegasque roots” was cute, but you didn’t expect Charles Marc Herve Perceval (Demon Spawn) Leclerc to step into your playing field.

Who the hell does he think he is? Offering to adopt your son? And, Oscar is going along with it? And, the Miami Grand Prix account making a “Certificate of Adoption?” You started to like Miami after Lando won there; and now they’ve betrayed you. Every fan jumped on the bandwagon, thinking that this was the most adorable thing to happen. Like Oscar hasn’t been your child the minute he stepped foot into the MTC in Silverstone. Like he didn’t give you a Mother’s Day present? The Monegasques have some nerve; you were close with Charles and Alex but, now they’ve encroached on your and Lando’s territory. You’re committing several murders today.

You laughed hysterically when Oscar joined Lando and you for lunch, mentioning that Charles and Alex invited him to eat with the rest of the Leclercs at family dinner after qualifying. You agreed to let him but not without making sure Charles and Alex are qualified for the job. Lando also cornered you in the kitchen and persuaded you to allow Oscar to go; swaying you with the idea of a real date night. You never realized just how much time you guys spend with your son. When’s the last time you guys had a break from being “mum and dad?" It was an appealing offer, but you were serious about clarifying expectations to the thieving couple.

twitter • may 25th • monaco

instagram • bakewithyn • may 25th • date night ⚑

liked by charlesleclerc, landonorris, nicolepiastri and 236,978 others

bakewithyn: a little night off from parenting was needed x

tagged landonorris

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user okay mamiiiii

user all parents deserve to relax !!!

oscarpiastri do you even miss me ☹️

➥ user damn he goin through it

➥ charlesleclerc i literally just got him to smile and now he's crying again 😒

➥ landonorris your mum and i love you lots osc

➥ oscarpiastri :]

alexandrasaintmleux take full advantage of having no children in the house 😈😈😈

➥ charlesleclerc leo will keep him distracted for as longggg as possible 😏

➥ user lando only needs about three minutes 🥱

➥ user wow that's a really long time fr

oscarpiastri mama y papa

➥ user mama y papa

instagram • landonorris • june 16th • daddy's home ⚑

liked by oscarpiastri, angryginge, bakewithyn and 436,812 others

landonorris: father's day done right. my child and his mother made a cake for me, family photo slide two, and my son slide three. what more can a man want.

tagged bakewithyn and oscarpiastri

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user this man never misses a chance to call himself daddy

user too fucking funny 🤸🏾‍♀️🤸🏾‍♀️

bakewithyn happy father's day, daddy xxx

➥ user OHMYGOD 😖🤢🤮

➥ user on my internet⁉️⁉️⁉️

➥ landonorris even happier now x

user this new wave of parents concerns me...

oscarpiastri the cake was good wasn't it???

➥ landonorris it was perfect, seriously

➥ oscarpiastri i know you both said there's no way we'd get a puppy but hear me out i've thought of something better

➥ oscarpiastri working on giving me a younger sibling :]

➥ user YES BABY NORRIS ‼️‼️‼️

➥ landonorris @/bakewithyn ?

➥ bakewithyn ask me again in a couple of years

#f1 x reader #f1 smut #f1 smau #lando norris x reader #oscar piastri x reader #lando norris x black!reader #oscar piastri x black!reader #f1 x black!reader #lando norris fanfic #lando norris smut #lando norris fluff #oscar piastri fanfic #charles leclerc fic #oscar piastri fluff #♡ ༘*.ﾟ love interest: ln.#♡ ༘*.ﾟ love interest: op.#serene's chapters.#serene’s fave.

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httpsserene · 3 months

Note

Lando smut driveroom after hia dnf🫠🫠

𝐝𝐧𝐟 𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐫𝐚𝐩𝐲 - 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐠𝐫𝐢𝐝 𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐜𝐭𝐬

summary: what goes down in their driver’s room with you after a dnf. content warning: 18+ only. mdni. explicit sexual content. hurt/comfort (in a way). sexual propositions. angry sex (implied). depressed charles. mercedes f1 team slander. sir kink. periods. face-sitting, vaginal sex, masturbation, voyeurism, blowjobs, cunnilingus, shower sex (light or implied). pairing: the grid x fem!reader (1,4,16,44,55,81) genre: drabbles.

from serene: river baby, this one’s for you xxx we all know what inspired this one lmao !!! oh, i will not be doing extended fics for any of these, they are just quick drabbles as a little writing exercise for me! (okay, okay, okay, fine i’ll finish toasty part two i promise it'll be released soon)

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𝐯𝐞𝐫𝐬𝐭𝐚𝐩𝐩𝐞𝐧, 𝐦𝐚𝐱 #𝟏

You’ve never found Max’s skill for talking endlessly annoying or draining. In fact, you can recall telling him that hearing him eagerly explain about racing or other topics that interest him is attractive, multiple times. However, you’re not sure if you can withstand much more of him rambling through a retelling of every single lap he raced before he had to retire, looking for any possible point where he could’ve done something different to prevent it.

The two of you are sitting on his small couch, pressed side to side, and you’re offering small nods of agreement and hums of understanding during his pauses between words that echo in the small private room. His helmet was shoved in a random cubby, his balaclava draped on top of it but, he hasn’t made any other progress in taking off his race gear. His gloves are still covering his hands as he fiddles with the straps around his wrists, his race suit and boots still properly secured, the smell of sweat and gasoline–the scent of man alluring to your nose–the heat of his body radiating against your side instigating the warmth that floods your cheeks, and the sound of his lisp curling seductively around his speech prompting less than pure thoughts as your heart flutters and thighs press together.

Max is unaware of the sudden twist in your thoughts as he verbally attempts to calculate just exactly where he could’ve improved his outcome, his voice rumbly with an undertone of displeasure, when you cut him off.

“Let me make it better,” you offer.

The Dutch driver cocks his head at you, his expression confused and humored, “How can you make my DNF better? I do not think you can go back in time and—”

“No, Max,” you interrupt, teeth tugging at your bottom lip gently, “Let me sit on your face.”

Visibly, you see his breath catch and eyes widen. His mouth opens and closes as he tries to formulate a response, tongue flicking out to dampen his lips as he thinks—before his pupils blow large, and he swallows audibly.

“Oh,” Max starts, finally tugging his gloves off and tossing them to the floor, then moving to undo the strap of his race suit, “That would make it better.”

𝐧𝐨𝐫𝐫𝐢𝐬, 𝐥𝐚𝐧𝐝𝐨 #𝟒

He’s pacing the small length of the room angrily, ranting about his retirement loudly enough that you know it’s seeping through the thin walls. You stare at him with a slightly concerned gaze, getting slightly annoyed as his race suit tied low on his hips threatens to smack you in the face every time he turns around.

You’re well aware that Lando is quick to anger and brood as he freely makes everyone aware of where the blame needs to be placed. But, the dark and unyielding look in his eyes leads you to believe that he’ll be a little too real to the press today and you would hate to have to deal with a simultaneously enraged and ashamed Lando once he realizes what he said. Then, you’ll have to comfort him as he overthinks his words and doom scrolls through Twitter to see what people are saying about him. You would like to sleep tonight, so you can’t have him embarrass himself today. Thankfully, Lando’s a man, a very simple man at his core.

You stand up from the couch and pull off his hoodie that you stole. Lando continues to rage and pace, not aware of your movement. You undo the buttons of your shirt, shrugging it off to stand in your bra and jeans. Lando doesn’t notice your state of undress until he spins around to find you topless and shimmying your jeans down your hips.

“Um,” Lando stutters, eyes fixed on your tits, “Why are your clothes off?”

“Get over here and fuck your anger out,” you command, “So when you talk to the press, you don’t say the stupid shit you're telling me now.”

Lando mumbles and pouts offended as he scrambles to lose his race suit, “‘s not stupid shit.”

You roll your eyes and reach out to tug him forward strongly, humming as the length of his body knocks against yours, easily stuffing your hand down his fireproofs and kissing on the meat of his neck, “mhm–I’m sure it isn’t.”

𝐥𝐞𝐜𝐥𝐞𝐫𝐜, 𝐜𝐡𝐚𝐫𝐥𝐞𝐬 #𝟏��

The room is silent as Charles blankly stares at the wall, you’re not sure if he is aware of your hand comfortingly scratching along his back. He only offered words of exhaustion and depression as he slipped quietly into his room and curled next to you as he dissociated from his retirement.

You’ve tried everything. You cooed soothingly, you complained about the result, and you even loudly expressed how terrible you think the car and Ferrari are and he didn’t say a single word. He simply continued to stare at the wall, his suit and helmet still on, visor down, and expression unreadable. Anxiously, you shifted next to him, not used to experiencing Charles this out of it. And suddenly, the idea came to you. Breaking the silence, you suggested giving him head to relieve his stress. Charles said no. Your brow furrowed perplexed at his denial; he’s never rejected a blowjob before. You took it one step further and offered to let him fuck it out of you (you were previously adamant on the “no sex in the driver’s room” rule because sound carries), and you were sure the Monegasque was about to say yes before he shook his head violently like he was forcibly removing the thought, and mumbled something along the lines of, “I don’t deserve it.”

That is something you will not let slide. Charles doesn’t need to punish himself after he’s already out of the race, but if he won’t allow himself to indulge in you, you’ll strongly encourage him to.

“Okay, Charlie,” you whisper, “If you’re sure.”

He doesn’t zone back in until he hears your whimpers seep into the air, snapping his head to look at you. He finds you with one hand tugging at your nipple and your other hand shoved under your skirt—from the movement, he can guess that you’re two fingers deep. You hear Charles choke audibly and you can’t help but toss your head back and giggle, the laughter turning into a moan of pleasure as your fingers pass over a sensitive spot.

“I-I think–merde,” Charles cuts himself off as he stares at your show, “I think I’ve changed my mind.”

The helmet stays on.

𝐡𝐚𝐦𝐢𝐥𝐭𝐨𝐧, 𝐥𝐞𝐰𝐢𝐬 #𝟒𝟒

You’re unsure if Lewis is even mad about his retirement. The man seems mentally deranged as he laughs gleefully about ending his race early. Understandably, he is complaining about the bottoming of the car and the hell it’s wreaking on his back–so, maybe the joy is justifiable, your man is…older.

The thing is, Lewis switches from rambling about his back pain to complaining about Mercedes and repeating how he can’t wait for a change in scenery at Ferrari. In the Mercedes motorhome. Loudly. You know he’s doing it on purpose based on the vengeful look in his eyes. He recalls almost every single moment the team dismissed his critiques and suggestions, every single moment they didn’t appear at his podiums, every single moment they thought he wouldn’t leave, every single moment they took him for granted. And, Lewis is more than welcome to express his grievances—but you would still like him to leave on good terms as Toto did promise you a custom G-Wagon (not that Lewis can’t get you one himself; you would just hate to see him ruin his connections).

Lewis also can’t help being hot. He sits comfortably splayed out on his couch, a towel tied loosely on his hips from his shower, chest bare as beads of water fall downwards and get caught in the maze of his toned abdomen, his tattoos become art pieces as you appreciate the sight fully. He continues to partake in his amusing one-man conversation as he clasps his chain around his neck—and you break.

“Let me suck your dick,” you blurt out, cheeks flushing, surprised at your own words, “...sir?”

Lewis pauses, raising an eyebrow at you from where you’re leaning on the room door.

“Well, I don’t know why you’re still standing over there if that’s what you want. Kneel.”

The sound of your knees hitting the floor sings in the air, “Yes, sir.”

𝐩𝐢𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐫𝐢, 𝐨𝐬𝐜𝐚𝐫 #𝟖𝟏

Oscar’s already sequestered himself away in his room before you were able to intercept him on his way. The mechanics are lowly gossiping about how mad he was when he pulled himself out of the car and they watch after you in fear as you make your way to your boyfriend.

Oscar? Mad? He’d never take it out on you, there’s no reason for the mechanics to be worried. Except when you enter the room, the vibes are peculiar. Oscar’s calmly folding his race suit, boots tucked away into their proper place, standing in just his fireproofs—they compliment his body well, extremely well. He turns to look at you and there’s a smile on his face as if he hasn’t retired from a race. He opens his arms for a hug, and you hesitate for a moment before fulfilling his request. His arms wrap around you warmly and he nuzzles his face into your hair, pulling back briefly to press a kiss on your forehead before tightening his embrace. It feels more like he’s comforting you than you’re comforting him. He walks the two of you backward to his couch and pulls you down to sit on his lap.

Somehow, Oscar brightens more, “Hi, baby,” he grins, hands moving to fiddle with the hem of your shirt.

“Uhh, I’m sorry about your race?” Your tone of voice is unsure.

“Oh,” he laughs dismissively, “It happens sometimes–it was listed in the job description.” His right hand slips underneath your shirt as he speaks, moving calmly to tug the cups of your bra down underneath your chest, squeezing lightly at the plush weight in his hand.

You’re convinced he’s severely concussed, but it doesn’t stop you from arching towards him, your hips rolling forward unconsciously, “Ummm— ‘s there a-anything I can do to help?”

Oscar’s hand draws out of your shirt and halts the grind of your hips in a flash, he coos at you, “Aw, that’s so sweet of you to offer…let me fuck your tits—please?”

What were you going to do, tell him no?

𝐬𝐚𝐢𝐧𝐳 𝐣𝐫, 𝐜𝐚𝐫𝐥𝐨𝐬 #𝟓𝟓

You’re going to slam your head on the corner of the sink and hope it knocks you out. You’ll do it if means the sounds of Carlos’ whining stop. He forcibly pulled you up on the counter of the sink and told you to stay put as he showered so he could talk it out to you.

Naively, you thought the sound of the shower running would muffle his words and you were wrong. On any other day, you would be fine to support him through his complaints but your period is due to start in a couple of days and the irritation and sore muscles are already affecting you. Originally, you were eager to watch Carlos shower—that’s a sight plenty of women and men alike would kill you for. Then, the glass fogged with steam depriving you of something to ogle. And, if there’s one thing a woman is experiencing besides pain, sensitivity, and anger before her period, it’s being horny. You rationalize your thought process as you get undressed; Carlos gets some stress relief and you get to hear moans and grunts of pleasure instead of his huffing, grumbling, and whining.

You slide the glass door open and closed as you step in the shower, completely bare except for the necklaces, earrings, and anklet with the #55 charm he gifted you randomly, “Carlos, por favor, be quiet.”

The Spanish man’s mouth is agape as he stares at you, frozen in the middle of his motion of scrubbing soap along his arm, “¿Qué?”

You roll your eyes, tugging the soapy cloth out of his hand and setting it on the shower shelf, “There’s better things you could be doing with your mouth.”

Carlos blinks, returning to the present and sinking to his knees in the too-small shower.

He stares up at you with his big, sweet, lust-drenched, brown eyes, his hair a mess from the spray of the shower, and his voice cracking as he speaks, “Yes, definitely.”

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