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tojisun · 4 months

Note

Poor poor hockey! Simon :(

he lost and now the only thing to make him feel better is a good bj

this made me twitch so here u are my love !!!

!! comfort/smut - minors dni; hockey au; praises (in a tender way and but also in a kink way); D/s-ish; some semblance of plot ig // 2.4k words (LMAO)

the horn blows, marking the end of the game and, with that, the end of spec gru’s season.

it was heartbreaking to watch the way the boys' bodies slump, their loss descending onto them like heavy rain. the arena shakes, screams from the opposing team's fans piercing your ears, but you can't blame them, really—they won on home ice, against the leviathan of the league. it is a tremendous win for them, and a devastating loss for your side.

you feel your hand getting squeezed and you turn, looking at johnny's fiancee, seeing the way her own face is crumpled in her sadness.

"i guess that's that, huh?" she says, comforting, her voice a quiet whisper that was almost devoured by the loud cheers.

sometimes you forget that she's an athlete too; that she feels things a lot more intense than you do because she understands the grapple. the desperation. the way how everything you give and everything you put out is, at the end, not enough.

you sniffle, holding her hand tighter.

"i'm so proud of 'em," you say wetly, unable to compartmentalize your grief.

she laughs, the sound of it so empty of any humour but not any less kind.

“i am too.”

you both turn your gazes back to the rink and watch the teams shake hands with each other, the players finally amiable like they hadn’t just been tussling on ice, all sparked by the sharp tension that buzzed throughout their play.

you watch as simon takes a lap, patting the backs of his team members with his lips pursed, but otherwise he is put together. and yet here you are, shaking, lips wobbling, nose twitching because you are trying your best not to cry. it isn’t like you were the one who lost so you wonder why your heart twinges with so much pain; why is it that you are the one holding back the tears?

simon turns to the crowd, roving his eyes past bodies, until they finally lock on you. his lips twitch into a smile; you give him what you hope is a big one—the type of smile that will let him know how in awe you are of him, win or not.

they skate away and you all shuffle out, preparing for the flight back home.

it was expected for the players to fly back home together—a semblance of normalcy even amidst the staggering defeat. it was their last attempt at showing sportsmanship; at showing the hounding media that despite the abrupt end of their season, they remained close-knit.

simon understands it, of course. it was a media play, one that contends with the politics of the league, but it was difficult to act impartially, especially when they were making their way back, empty-handed, from the home ice of the team that had defeated them. it was difficult to not show the turmoil in their hearts, but they all managed to hold their heads up high during the exit and that was that.

they didn’t talk about it much, avoiding that last game as best as they could until the briefing, but hunger thrums in their jowls—no one was satisfied with being the second best.

the promise of a better next season hung above them, but it is still so unreachable.

simon feels angrier than usual, unable to stop himself from taking this loss personally. like what costed them their win were only his shortcomings; like this defeat was his sole failure because he did promise to lead his team on ice, with price unable to stand as their official captain during the games. he had promised to score the most, after all, and had promised to keep the opposing puck out of price’s net, but he failed in both and, well, here they are.

back home, anguished. defeated.

he–

simon's phone rings, a quiet trill that echoes in the empty locker room.

he shoots awake from the swirl of his thoughts, sluggish as he pulls it out of his bag. he expected it to be laswell or keller, or maybe their coach, but simon feels his world tilt when he sees your name flashing on his screen. and just like that, like he wasn’t even drowning in his self-doubt and self-hatred, simon feels like he can breathe again.

he feels lighter, his anguish seeping out of his pores, leaving him with nothing but his flesh and his heart and his love.

simon picks up the call, hears your voice, then he is up and running back home.

there is a sense of urgency in the way he finds you, his cold body folding into the warm touch of your own. you gasped out his name, surprised at how fast you have him back in your arms after a whole season of flying and leaving and pursuing his chance at the cup—

“i’m home, petal,” simon murmurs, his voice deep and beautiful and longing, and you giggle, your eyes watering, before you nuzzle into his chest.

he breathes you in, the faint smell of ozone and rain and something distinctly flowery fills his nose, and somehow this is what grounds him, his blood spiking as desire and need fill him up instead.

and it trickles into him like wafting smoke—soft, gentle, cascading like a warm kiss. it is still intense, hungry, but it is tender. quiet. like everything about simon’s buzzed energy had transformed into this careful folding. the anger, the desperation, all of it snuffed out for a vulnerable moment.

“baby,” you begin, voice muffled from where your head is still pressed on his chest. “love, you did so well.”

he shakes, his words failing him now.

you pull back just enough and he sees the glazed look in your eyes as you stare up at him, your lips curled in your smile. “i’m so proud of you, si.”

his heart stutters inside the cages of his ribs, jumping, before it lodges itself in his throat.

you giggle at his wordless tremors and press close again, your body melting onto his again, before you tip your head back to his chest but this time, instead of a nuzzle, you greet his beating heart with a kiss. one that is so light he barely feels it from his shirt, but simon feels so shaken.

he feels so raw.

you are holding him like he is the best thing in this world. like all his bulk and his size and his anger is still worth this softness.

“i need you,” he croaks out, unable to stop the way his feelings bloat and rage in the pit of his stomach.

“you have all of me,” you reply, breathless, your eyes still blown open, wide and full of wonder. then they shift, turning sharper, gaining edge; still careful, coaxing, but overwhelming. “tell me, my love. tell me how you need me.”

“fuck,” simon rasps out, feeling like he’s running out of air. his fingers twitch, digging deep into your skin, feeling it mould under his touch.

he’s missed this, alright. he’s—

“mouth,” he finally manages to bite out. “wan’ feel your mouth, love.”

“okay,” you croon, kissing his pec again. “sit f’me?”

simon doesn’t even have it in him to feel embarrassed about the way he falls to his ass on the plush mattress, bouncing a little bit because of the force, before he spreads his legs open, so, so desperate.

you have your bottom lip trapped between your teeth, canines dimpling the flesh, and simon feels like he is burning from the inside; doused with the fires of need, spark untamable, licking up, up, up.

“come on, firelily,” he rumbles, needy. “c’mere an’ kiss me.”

you huff, fond, and fall to your knees, scooting close to him.

it was silent as you fumble with his sweats, tugging at the drawstring and grumbling when the hem gets snugged on his hips. simon chuckles, pushing your hair out of your face before he juts up just enough to give you room to slide his sweats and his boxers down.

the cool air makes him tremble and you murmur something. it was so faint that he doesn’t get to catch what it was, but his curiosity sizzles at the sight of you licking your palm, shyly with how you refuse to meet his eyes. he almost teases you, his cheeks round with giddiness, but then you wrapped your fist around his half-chub, and his sanity is razed.

simon hisses, eyes fluttering close at the warm curl of pleasure.

jesus. he’s missed the feeling of this; your hand is softer, more supple, around his cock. it was so different from when it was his own fist rubbing himself, beating at his angrily flushed cock with desperation only for his peak to tip over mutedly, and not enough to truly satiate his hunger.

but this? fuck.

simon doesn’t even realize he’s whimpering, his head thrown back at the curious pace of your hand, not really jerking him off but mapping along his veins almost in quiet awe.

“‘m not gon’ last long if you–” he gasps at a particular twist. “if you keep doing that.”

“oh, no we can’t have that,” you tease, chuckling, and simon’s reply builds on the tip of his tongue, cheeky, but then you’re already moving, your back folding, your breath hitting his sensitive head.

his thighs tense in his anticipation, his stomach locking. you flit your eyes up at him, pupils blown wide in your own ragged need, before he jerks at the feeling of your tongue pressing on the underside of his cock, licking up, and teasing his leaking slit.

simon moans, guttural, his voice caught on the back of his throat. he drops his hands to his sides, fisting at the sheets as you keep licking, teasing his slit and tracing his veins, lapping at his cock so messily.

if he didn’t know any better, he’d think that you’re inexperienced; all sloppy and curious, like you’re attempting things you’ve probably seen in porn, but then you close the ring of your mouth around the bulbed head, suckling like it’s a goddamn loli, while your hands drop to squeeze his balls, and simon’s gone.

“shit-!” he gasps out, battling air like he’s back on ice.

he bucks his hips forward, unable to help himself, and only stops at the warbled sound of your surprise.

“fuck,” he hisses, hand coming up to swipe the hair from your sweaty face. “i’m sorry, darlin’. didn’t mean t’force it down. s’just that y’r so good.”

he keeps petting your cheek, overtaken by his desires and no longer able to stop the string of words trickling from his heart. “missed you lots, swee’art. missed you so much—take me deeper?”

your cheeks hollow as you hum, so obedient for him.

“yeah, jus’ like that,” simon trills, his chest rising as he breathes in deeply. his stomach flexes at the feeling of you swallowing more of him, taking his thickness past your gummy cheeks and into the wet vice of your throat. “shit, baby. christ. y’feel so fuckin’ good ‘round me. so perfect an’ wet.” he giggles, drunken in his bliss. “such a messy baby y’are. so sloppy. y’wanted my cock that much, din’ya? so hungry f’r it.”

there’s a wet slurp when he hits the deepest you could allow him, your eyes rolling to the back of your skull. you choke, your body lurching in protest, but simon is at the throes of his pleasure and his rational thoughts are devoured by his gluttonous need, and simon knows it is wrong to ask but—

“hold it in? can you do that f’r me, love?” he croons, his voice curling in his euphoria.

he knows this is playing dirty; to use your weakness—the deep rumble of his voice and the gentle beckoning—to make you weak, malleable. to make you just as desperate for him because he knows all you want to do is to be good for him even when it has you straining, your eyes filling up with tears. he knows it is wrong, but he can’t help it. he wants you this way.

and you want him like this too—his desires sharpening, shaping him to be mean and dangerous. his thickness fills you up, pressing at the roof of your mouth and trapping your tongue underneath the weight of his flesh. your larynx is stretched out, stuffed, but simon is looking at you so adoringly, his own ecstasy so dizzying, so addicting.

you nod, sniffling, finally replying to his question because you want him to feel good. because you want him to lose his restraints when it comes to you.

because you want him to use you until he’s truly relaxed, his body exhausted with something beyond his heartbreak. with something beyond his loss.

simon’s lips wobble like he knows what it is you are thinking of.

he fucks your throat that way, gentle and sometimes slipping into something so mean it makes you squirm on your knees, the muted throb of your strained legs finally turning into staticky numbness, but you don’t complain, your jaw relaxed as you let simon use you.

he growls out his praises, his words chewed on in his peaking euphoria—nose flaring, cheeks flushed red—or lilting as he teases you—pulling his cock out enough that all that is left is the head, and you whine because you want him in, please simon. wan’ more please—

“gonna cum, sweetheart. gonna cum—fuck!—gonna—”

simon throws his head back, a blinding white filling his eyes and his ears ringing. his body trembles at the intensity of his orgasm, immense pleasure overtaking every synapses in his body until all that he feels is the feverish wrap of your mouth on him.

he flicks his eyes down, panting, and twitches at the sight you make—jaw slack, eyes faraway, skin shining with a thin sheen of sweat.

you look, fuck, you look angelic like this.

simon cups your cheek, his thumb swiping just underneath your teary eye. you focus back to him slowly, blinking owlishly.

“shh,” he croons, gentle. “i’ve got you, darlin’. i’ve got you.”

a whine builds from the back of your throat and simon hums, responding to your wordless babble, trying to ease you back down from the fog. he continues to hold you even amidst his oversensitivity, waiting so patiently so he can take care of you now.

yeah, he thinks to himself as he continues to return your unblinking stare. i’m glad to be back home.

hope this was good :'33 once again pls dont judge me for my blatant self-indulgence hhHHHHH oki oki mwah!!

#anon #hockey au #simon ghost riley x reader #simon ghost riley smut #simon riley smut #simon ghost riley #simon riley #hockey player simon #cod smut #ask #suns

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just-jammin · 2 years

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canon ships of ur ocs?

ok let's see..

AuraStone: Amy/Mitch, Pip/Sylvie

I.S.E.I.: Antares/42, Thera/N1-J101

not fallen.: Seph/the human who finds the trio of angels

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spiderbeam · 1 month

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pairing: mercedes driver!reader x lando norris

warnings: lots and lots of swearing reader is very frustrated can you tell, rivals to lovers-ish

a/n: based on this concept moodboard i made!

“What’s wrong with you?”

Lando’s voice trailing after you is the absolute last thing you want to hear now. You pick up your stride, hoping that he at least gets the message that you absolutely do not want to talk to him.

Your fireproofs are tied around your waist, your Mercedes cap thrown on your head to hide the sticky, messy hair you ended up with after the race. Reporters and journalists are out of earshot now, but you’re not particularly keen on risking any sort of confrontation with Lando while there’s media nearby.

Your skin itches. It really itches, and you have to stifle the urge to scratch at your arms. You wonder whether you’re having an allergic reaction for not saying what you actually wanted to say during the post-race interview.

“You were leading in P2 for the grand majority of the race—how do you think you lost your position?”

Goddamn journalists. A week ago, you would’ve chewed his head off. You would’ve been honest. You would’ve been torn between asking what kind of a fucking question is that? and telling him what you really thought—that you lost your opportunity for your first 1-2 with Lewis because Lando went ahead and fucked your front wing trying to overtake you. What pisses you off the most is that he did overtake you, and that he didn’t even get a penalty for screwing you over. After that, you miraculously ended on P3—thanks to Max’s DNF—and Lando with the second place that he ripped from your hands.

But you’ve received your warnings. From Toto, from your PR team, from the Mercedes PR team—fuck, even Lewis has made a comment or two. Learn to take it in stride. This rivalry you seem to have developed with the McLaren driver is not good for your or Mercedes’s image.

You need to handle this professionally, Nina told you. Because while people claim that there’s no such thing as bad publicity—that everyone loves a good rivalry—you know you’ve been pushing the limit. And while you might be a consistent driver, it’s not only your skills that matter in this sport. It doesn’t exactly reflect well on Mercedes if you have Lando’s entire army of fans on your ass every time you post something on social media.

So, you drill the words into your head until they hopefully become second nature. And when that asshole journalist asked you the question—the question meant to get a rise out of you, to get them videos of you cussing Lando and making snide comments at him—you forced yourself to breathe in. And you could see the surprise in their faces when you smiled.

You felt constipated.

You’re not even sure what you answered. Your hands were gripping the microphone so tightly you thought it could snap. I’m grateful for sharing a podium with Lewis. Things like these are common and it’s just part of the sport. Congrats to Lando for P2. You drew blood from biting your cheek halfway through the press conference.

Take it in stride. Deal with it professionally. Don’t rise to the bait they put out. You’re sure as hell not gonna put your seat at Mercedes at risk because of someone like Lando Norris.

No matter how easily he gets under your skin.

“Did you hear me?” You have to swallow the frustrated groan that threatens to rip past your throat. Lando jogs to catch up to you, the scent of champagne pungent in the air. You fear he’s here to gloat—until you notice the sneer he usually regards you with is nowhere to be seen. Instead, there’s confusion, if not a slight wariness in his face. “What’s wrong with you today?”

You jerk your head back, a scowl starting to form. Cameras are still in sight. And while they might not be able to hear you, they very well could get video of you fighting with him and exploit it. You set your lips into a line, shrugging forcefully. “Nothing’s wrong with me.”

Lando’s confusion deepens, overlapping with his suspiciousness. He searches your face for something he doesn’t seem to find. Then, much to your surprise, he presses the back of his hand to your forehead. “Are you ill?”

You slap his hand away, shooting him a glare. “Quit that. I mean it.”

Lando narrows his eyes at you. “You’re acting weird.”

You scoff in disbelief. First he fucks up your race and now he thinks he can just get in your space? “I’m acting weird? You know what—” You’re a second away from giving him a piece of your mind before you hear Nina’s voice in your head. Be professional. Don’t rise to the bait.

For a moment, you wonder whether it’d be worth facing the consequences that will surely unravel if you bitch slap Lando.

You can feel cameras on you—you can see them out of the corner of your eye. You force a smile. “I feel great. Thank you for worrying, Lando.”

The moment the words leave your mouth, Lando stares at you as if you’ve just told him you’re secretly a pile of lizards in a trench coat.

“Are you concussed?” he asks genuinely.

You smile again, grinding your teeth together. You shove him in a way that looks playful, if you ignore just how much force you put into it. Lando’s body jerks back as he gapes at you. “You’re funny.”

“I’m—what?”

Lando is still staring at you in disbelief as you finally walk away. Even as he gets to his driver room, skin still sticky with champagne, he finds himself mulling over your conversation with him.

You congratulated him. In front of a room filled with cameras. There’s video evidence of you congratulating him even after he unintentionally fucked up your last lap.

It’s creeping him the fuck out.

And as he sits inside the McLaren hospitality, phone on his hand as he replays the video of the press conference, he still doesn’t believe it. He also doesn’t understand why he finds it so off-putting. He can’t stand you. You’re annoying, way too smug, and always find a way to grate at his nerves.

Is this some reverse psychology ploy to throw him off his game? It’s far-fetched, but he wouldn’t put it past you.

Your voice still replays inside his head. Thank you for worrying, Lando. You’re funny. Maybe he’s the one with the concussion.

As Lando stares up at the ceiling of his driver room, the only words out of his mouth are—

“What the fuck?”

a/n: i saw lilli mention the idea of a warm-up for writing and i honestly needed this 🙃 i haven’t been able to write anything in a while so yeah…….. i probably won’t expand on this, but my moodboard gave me enough inspo to get this out!!!!

#—landonorris!#drabbles 🌧️#f1 driver!reader #ln4 imagine #ln4 x reader #lando norris x you #lando norris x reader #lando norris imagine #f1 imagines #f1 x reader #mclaren x reader #formula one x reader #f1 driver x reader

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venusacrossthestars · 6 months

Text

your hands in mine

Pairings- Charles Leclerc x fem!reader

WC-1k

warnings- fluff, thunderstorm, 1 sexual-ish innuendo

A/N: this is something special for @arieslost and her obsession with hands, especially Charles' hands. I wrote this and am posting in today (3/12) in honor of our 3 years of friendship. I wouldn't be who I am without her. nyoom duo till the end.

f1 masterlist

The roll of thunder is what startles you out of your slumber. Senses clouded by the lingering effects of sleep. For a moment you are unsure as to where you were. This looked nothing like your apartment. Another wave of thunder brought back the realization, I spent the night at Charles’.

You and the Monégasque driver had spent the entire day together, doing everything and nothing. He had a week off between races and was adamant about spending it all with you, not that you were complaining. This night had been no different. The two of you had gone out for a nice dinner, a little local spot near Charles’ flat that had live music. Your walk home was filled with a comfortable silence, which was one of your favorite things about being with Charles. The two of you didn’t need to be in constant conversation with each other, just each other presence was enough.

The peacefulness followed the both of you as you worked through the motions of your nightly routine. Yours ended with reading a few chapters of whatever book you were reading and Charles practicing the piano. Kissing him before you each went off to do your own routine was the last thing you could fully remember. You must’ve fallen asleep out on the balcony and Charles must’ve carried you to bed.

Turing over in Charles’ arms was a task easier said than done. Anytime the two of you spooned his arms would magically become vice grips, impossible to get out of. However, Charles must have been equally, if not more, beat than you. The rain helping lull him to sleep as it had done to you, his arms were lax across your middle, making it easier to roll over to your opposite side.

As the wind picked up, a cool breeze swept through the open windows making you nestle further into Charles’ bare chest. Your hands coming to rest across his chest. Another thing to love about him, he always slept shirtless. It was impossible to deny how handsome Charles was, and contrary to popular belief of the media, you weren’t with Charles only for his looks and fame, though it was a perk. You didn’t care about any of those things. When he was with you he wasn’t Charles Leclerc Prince of Ferrari, he was just Charles and that’s all you needed.

The rain began to pour harder and you couldn’t restrain yourself from staring at Charles’ sleeping figure, it was as if Michelangelo personally carved him out of marble. His sharp features only a tad more relaxed in his slumber. Shamelessly, you move your hand from his chest and lightly begin to trace his face with the backside of your hand, carefully trying not to wake him. Content with your mapping skills you move your hand back to his chest, now mindlessly drawing shapes into his tan skin.

You continued your drawing, listening to the sounds of the storm as it raged on, lost in your own world. You would’ve stayed like that for longer if it wasn’t for a practically bright flash of lightning followed by a wave of thunder that had enough force to shake the room. This startled Charles from his slumber, which in turn startled you.

“We should close the window before the floor gets all wet,” Charles mumbled out, still in the clutches of sleep.

“Too comfy, don’t wanna move,” you mutter into his skin.

Charles slides out from under you, causing you to whine at the loss of contact.

“I’m going to be right back, mon cheri, do not worry.”

With your eyes well adjusted to the darkness of the bedroom, you can make out the outline of Charles’ back, along with the muscles that flex as he closes the window and redraws the curtains that have been blown open. You watch shamelessly. How can a man be that perfect?

“See something you like?” Charles teases, standing at the foot of the bed.

“Best view in the city.” Your answer seems to satisfy Charles as he climbs back into bed, back to your previous position.

Now, instead of your hands tracing Charles’ features it is Charles whose hands soothingly roam your arm. On one particular ticklish pass of his hand, you let out a small giggle and before he can go back to try and tickle you again you grab his hand.

With his hand in yours, you bring it to your lips and press small kisses against each of his knuckles. Happy with the amount of kisses you have given him you bring his hand back down and absent-mindedly play with his fingers. Charles, still awake, says nothing and continues to let you do as you please.

“I love your hands,” you admit.

“I know,” he chuckles out, “I like my hands too, especially when they are wrapped around your throat.”

You gasp at the statement, “you pervert. I’m complimenting you and your head is stuck in the gutter.”

“It always is when you’re around.”

You roll your eyes at his comment and he pinches your side in retaliation, “you can’t even see what I did.”

“I know you, and I know you just rolled your eyes at me.”

Well, he’s got you there. You stop messing around with his fingers and now it is Charles’ turn to fiddle with yours. He copies your motions, bringing your hand to also kiss each knuckle. Instead of stopping as you did with his, he lightly massages the meat of your palm.

You are fighting the feeling of sleep, but it is a losing battle between the massage Charles is giving you and sound of the rain hitting the now closed window. Charles mutters something that your foggy brain is unable to catch.

Laced with sleep you ask, “what did you say?”

“Just that I love your hands too.” Charles says while kissing your ring finger but you are too far gone to hear the last part. “And one day I’ll put a ring on your finger and be able to call you mine forever.”

#f1 #f1 x reader #f1 imagine #f1 fic #f1 fanfic #formula 1 #formula 1 x reader #formula 1 imagine #formula 1 fanfic #charles leclerc #charles leclerc imagine #charles leclerc x reader #charles leclerc x you #charles leclerc fluff

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multifandomgirl08 · 1 year

Text

The Verstappens [Mini Verstappen Series]

Dad!Max Verstappen x Fiancée!Reader (Established Relationship)

Photo Credit: Pinterest

Format: Article/Social Media

Summary: Big things happen to Max and the reader in 2025. Moving, getting married, and a little surprise that neither of them were expecting.

A/N: I’m willing to write full chapters for the social media posts that I create. Credit for the Architectural Digest and Instagram templates: @lorarri

Previous Part → Next Part Mini Verstappen Masterlist

January 8

February 1

maxverstappen1

Liked by danielricciardo, ynverstappen and 357,193 others

tagged: ynverstappen

maxverstappen1 We did a thing.

danielricciardo You must have really liked her to put a ring on it!

maxverstappen1 Like does not begin to cover it

charles_leclerc Still can't believe that I wasn't bestman...

georgerussell63 You're only mad because you know you would have lost the ring danielricciardo charles_leclerc We both know that I was his first choice for best man

pierregasly So... when can I start calling Y/N Mama Verstappen?

landonorris You don't already? Man, are you slow. pierregasly You already do? landonorris Well, yeah...

redbullracing Congratulations to Mr. and Mrs. Verstappen!

f1fan2112 Was the entire grid at Max's wedding? Asking for a friend.

fan17 Max getting married was not on my 2025 bingo card.

mstappenfan I don’t know what to do with all of this information that I just got

daniel3.jpg

176,989 likes

daniel3.jpg The Verstappen Wedding

View all 173 comments

Feb 2, 2025

maxverstappen1 and ynverstappen

Liked by lewishamilton, danielricciardo, and 485,269 others

maxverstappen1 There is going to be another Verstappen running around the paddock soon.

Third driver already on reserve when the time comes!

lewishamilton I thought two of you were enough. Now there's going to be a third? I'm in some serious trouble now... In all seriousness, congratulations Max. Wishing you and the Mrs. all the best.

fan5 Does this mean that the Mercedes Red Bull feud is over?

redbullracing Never mercedesamgf1 Keep dreaming

fan3 It's strange to think about the fact that Y/N is friends with Lewis given that Max and Lewis don't get along.

fan1 They literally just got married!

May 26, 2025

ynverstappen and maxverstappen1

Liked by danielricciardo, lewishamilton, and 247,434 others

ynverstappen Welcome to the world Nikita Daniel Verstappen.

It took 12 hours and almost breaking your Papa's hand for you to come into the world. Looking at you now makes it all worth it.

danielricchiardo I'm a godfather to one Verstappen and there is one named after me. Officially winning at life!

maxverstappen1 Nikita got your name as a middle name only because Y/N won when we bet on the gender of the baby.

landonorris I call next! Name a child after me, I dare you

christianhorner Congratulations Y/N and Max, can't wait for this little one to be running around the paddock soon.

f1 Big congratulations to the Verstappen family ❤️

redbullracing Congrats Max and Y/N!

Dec 3, 2025

----

taglist: @karmabyfernando, @barcagirly, @sachaa-ff, @iamahallucinationnn, @musingsbyshreya, @glow-ish, @nonsensical-nonsence, @fanboyluvr, @champomiel, @gothicwidowsworld, @lighttsoutlewis, @itsalwaysgay

#Mini Verstappen Series #Max Verstappen imagine #max verstappen x reader #f1 imagine #formula 1 imagine #f1 social media au #f1 instagram au #mv1 x reader #mv1 imagine #mv33 imagine #mv33 x reader

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witchywithwhiskey · 7 months

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witchywithwhiskey's steve rogers masterlist

you'll find full content warnings and summaries on each fic. some works contain dark themes and elements such as dubcon and noncon, so proceed with caution. you're responsible for your own media consumption!

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steve rogers

first and last [fluff, smut, angst] childhood friends to lovers ⭐️

a birthday ended with a bang [fluff, smut] friends to lovers, steve's birthday ⭐️

the alpha next door [smut] omegaverse au 🌟💖

the endurance of a super-soldier [smut] catws 10-year anniversary

inappropriate attire [smut] avengers tower au, coworkers to lovers

ever since i met you [smut, fluff] friends to lovers, valentine's day

offer me my deathless death [smut] greek myth au, strangers to lovers

put on a show [smut] established bdsm relationship

a dream in the bookshop [smut] bookshop owner au, mutual pining ⭐️

a shelter in the storm [smut] park ranger au, strangers to lovers ⭐️💖

hallowe’en fun with your werewolf knight [smut] werewolf au, royalty au ⭐️

halloween is the perfect time for tricks—and treats [smut] friends to lovers 💫💖

screaming in a haunted corn maze [smut] strangers to lovers ⭐️💖

a deal with the devil comes with wicked strings [smut] demon au ⭐️

a king's morning [smut, fluff] lotr au, royalty au ⭐️💖

a fair punishment & take your punishment [smut] established bdsm relationship ⭐️

happy wife, happy life [smut] established relationship, husband/wife

the best birthday gift [smut] avengers tower meet-cute

it's your captain's birthday [smut] dark-ish beach party

his radiant sunflower [fluff] farmer au comfort fic

lilacs & ink [fluff] tattoo artist au ⭐️

at the hand or command of a man [smut] modern royalty au, arranged marriage 💖

right where you belong [fluff] college au, idiots in love ⭐️

tomorrow’s a promise [smut] older brother's best friend au 💖

nothing he could do but touch you [smut] roommates au, dark 💖

so pretty with a knife in your hand [smut] serial killer au, dark

you got yourself a bet, sweetheart [fluff] rivals, movie star au 💖

nowhere near done [smut] bodyguard au, enemies to lovers

your heart a pancake [fluff] drunken confession ⭐️

and all was lost [smut] DARK non-con 💖

get this girl some ice cream! [fluff] emotional hurt/comfort

wear his mark [smut] vampire au

pretty flowers for a pretty girl [fluff] farmer au

dripped heavy like warm honey [smut, fluff] established relationship

cookies and cocoa and a little bit of patience [christmas, smut, fluff] established relationship

giddyup and ride my sleigh [christmas, smut, fluff] established relationship

a threat beneath the nice veneer [smut, eventual fluff(ish)] enemies to lovers

you’ll always be the sexiest man alive to me, captain [smut, fluff] coworkers to lovers

what are best friends for〈deleted scene〉 [smut] friends to lovers

steve rogers & bucky barnes

room for one more [smut, fluff] movie star au, some stucky

furniture assembling drabbles [fluff] neighbor steve rogers, roommate bucky barnes

a monster, a captain and a soldier [smut] monster!reader, avengers tower ⭐️

know how to share [fluff, pre-smut] love triangle ish, flirting, banter ⭐️💖

multiple characters including steve rogers

chris evans characters chest hair thots [smut] drabbles about ari levinson, andy barber, curtis everett, jake jensen, johnny storm, lloyd hansen, ransom drysdale and steve rogers

ova with ceo ari, dbf bucky and dark steve [smut] drabble follow ups to always keep my heart safe, safe and sound and and all was lost

steve rogers series masterlists

ONGOING: a bun in the oven series [smut, fluff] baker au, steve rogers

ONGOING: see you next shift series [smut, angst, fluff] coffeeshop au, bucky barnes, eventual steve rogers

steve rogers collections and challenge masterlists

LOTR-verse universe [smut, fluff, angst] lord of the rings au, multiple characters

a cozy steve rogers autumn [smut, fluff] fall-themed steve rogers fics

halloween fics [smut, fluff, angst] multiple characters

30 day writing trope challenge masterlist [smut, fluff, angst] multiple characters

#steve rogers #steve rogers fanfiction #steve rogers masterlist #witchywithwhiskey masterlist #witchywithwhiskey #witchywithwhiskeywork #masterlist

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