#max is going to Pounce

[mgu-h]

some us gp post quali norstappen ✨

[paragonrobits]

some important calvin and hobbes facts in case you haven't read the original comic strip in a long time or only absorbed stuff on it from memes and out of context bits on here:

Calvin's last name has never been given, and neither has any of his parent's names. This was actually why his uncle Max only showed up for a brief storyline; the creator of the comic, Bill Watterson, ultimately felt that while it was fine to have him as someone for his parents to talk to, it felt far too awkward to never have Max refer to them by name and he never made a return appearance.

The general tone of the comic is fairly light-hearted, with a big emphasis on goofy slapstick comedy contrasted by clever wordplay and often surprising adult-centered jokes that'll hit you like a slap. A big part of the comedy is, as Watterson put it (paraphrased) "It's really funny to me when people express deeply stupid ideas with really fancy terminology." One notable example you might have seen is that one bit where Calvin asks his mom for money to buy a Satan-worshiping rock album and his mom replies that there's nothing genuine about them and they're just putting on the attitude for shock value, and comisserates with Calvin as he deplores that mainstream nihilism can't be trusted. He concludes that childhood is disillusioning.

There is a LOT of criticism of the extreme materialism and selfish mentality of the late 80s, when the comic was initially written. This may go a long way to explain how its aged so well; much of what it criticizes resonates well with people today.

Bill Watterson views comic strips a legitimate form of artwork, and repeatedly fought to have more space to draw more beautiful and artistic backgrounds, which was a very hard fight and unpopular even with other comic strip artists. He eventually did win some compromises and a lot of Calvin And Hobbes' artwork shows it, with the use of space to indicate time as well as a sharp contrast between the often plain environments of mundane life contrasted by the wildly beautiful imagery of Calvin's imagination (which often sports realistic depictions in an art shift of sorts).

Hobbes is explicitly not an imaginary friend, by word of Watterson himself. We don't know WHAT he is exactly, and Hobbes is apparently unaware of the strange nature of his reality; people look at him and only see an ordinary stuffed tiger plushie, but he has a tangible effect on the world that would be physically impossible for Calvin to do on his own. He's apparently been around for a while, and was apparently around when Calvin was a young baby.

On that note; Hobbes has implicitly killed (notably treated as both a gag and also with the vibe of 'he's a tiger, duh') and while he doesn't do it again on-screen, he doesn't have any moral issues about it. Calvin claims that he's never had trouble bringing Hobbes to school because the last time he did, Hobbes killed and ate a bully named Tommy Chestnut and simply comments that it was gross and he needed a bath. Calvin's tried to repeat this again, but Hobbes was grossed out at the thought having to eat a kid raw and not being allowed to use an oven first, or complaining that children are too fattening.

Hobbes became gradually less human-like in body language and more like an actual cat in both body language and behavior; this was due to Watterson drawing more inspiration from his cat, who also inspired a lot of Hobbes' running gags, such as pouncing on Calvin when he got home. Several years into the syndication of the strip, Watterson's cat passed away, and he did a tribute to her with a comic strip of the two of them agreeing to try to dream together so they can keep playing when they have to sleep; Watterson's commentary (if I recall right), remarks on his cat: "We can see each other again in dreams."

[theonottsbxtch]

BABY, BABY | MV1

an: max verstappen you are a four time world champion!!! here's a little fic to celebrate that. i started writing it while watching the race, then had to mourn the loss of the battle then went back to writing it and my back hurts because my posture is shit. anyway enjoy!!

wc: 3.3k

Max Verstappen lived for speed. The roar of the engine, the blur of the track, the thunderous applause of the crowd—this was his kingdom. At twenty-seven, he was already a legend, a three-time Formula One World Champion whose name was etched into the annals of the sport. And this season? It was shaping up to be another triumph. Four wins in the first five races, podium finishes for all of them, and whispers in the paddock that he was untouchable.

He had every reason to be confident. The car was a beast—precision-engineered, relentless in its power. His team was operating like clockwork, every pit stop a perfectly executed ballet. But above all, she was there. His fiancée. She didn’t need to speak to make her presence known; her calm, unwavering gaze from the paddock was like a talisman. He could feel her watching, believing in him, and it drove him forward.

After his most recent victory in Japan, he leaned against the garage wall, sweat still beading on his forehead. She approached him, her smile soft and private, meant just for him. The cameras flashed around them, capturing their moment, but he hardly noticed.

“You’re unstoppable,” she murmured, low enough that only he could hear.

“For you? Always,” he replied, brushing a gloved hand over her cheek before he was whisked away to interviews.

Everything was perfect. The season was his to lose, and he had no intention of letting that happen.

Six races later, the Max Verstappen that stood on the grid in Barcelona was not the same man who had claimed victory in Japan. His car was still strong, and his team still flawless. But the man behind the wheel was... distracted.

The cracks had started to show at the Monaco Grand Prix. A clumsy lock-up during qualifying left him sixth on the grid. In Hungary, he was slow off the line and struggled to match the pace of the leaders, finishing fifth.

The press was quick to pounce.

“What’s happening to Verstappen?” the headlines screamed.

Max shrugged it off, his trademark confidence still on display. “It’s the car,” he said with a wry smile after Hungary. “We’re making adjustments. It’ll come good.”

It was a convenient excuse, one his team begrudgingly accepted because of who he was. But the truth was far more complex—and far more personal.

She wasn’t here.

She hadn’t been at the last couple of races. At first, she’d said she wasn’t feeling well, and Max had brushed it off. But then the phone call came.

“I’m pregnant,” she’d whispered, her voice trembling. “I—I want to tell you in person, but I don’t think I can travel.”

In that moment, his world shifted. Joy, fear, and an overwhelming need to protect her collided in his chest. The image of her radiant on their wedding day-to-be now came with another—her cradling a newborn, their newborn. And with that came a thousand anxieties he’d never anticipated.

At every moment since, his thoughts weren’t on the track but on her. Was she eating enough? Was she getting rest? What if something went wrong, and he wasn’t there?

But no one knew. Not his team, not the press, not even his closest rivals. To them, Max Verstappen was still the king of the circuit. He could never let them see otherwise.

It was lap 32 of the Hungarian Grand Prix, and Max was battling for third with Charles. The two cars screamed through the corners, inches apart, but Max hesitated. He felt it—his grip loosened, his focus wavered. For the first time in his career, he wasn’t sure he could make the move stick.

Charles darted ahead, and Max watched as the gap widened. His engineer’s voice crackled in his ear.

“Max, you’re losing time in Sector 2. What’s going on?”

“Just the car,” he lied, jaw tight. “It’s sluggish through the corners.”

He crossed the finish line in fourth. As he stepped out of the car, he pulled off his helmet, running a hand through sweat-soaked hair. The cameras were on him, the journalists waiting. But all he could think about was her.

He needed to call. To hear her voice. To know she was okay.

The season was far from over, but the battle raging within Max was one he’d never prepared for. And as he watched his championship hopes start to slip through his fingers, he knew one thing for certain: no race, no trophy, no accolade mattered more than the life he was about to build off the track.

The Belgian Grand Prix was a race Max Verstappen wanted to forget. He’d spent the entire weekend battling the car—or so he told anyone who asked. But deep down, he knew the problem wasn’t mechanical. The fault lay within himself, his mind a chaotic swirl of worry and love that refused to quiet, no matter how fast he drove.

When he was finally allowed to go back to the hotel, the first thing he wanted to do was go home. Not the sprawling apartment in Monaco that everyone assumed was his sanctuary, but the smaller, quieter house tucked away in the English countryside. The place where she was.

It was just after midnight when his car pulled into the gravel driveway. The house was dark except for the soft glow of a single lamp in the living room window. She always left it on for him. He slipped inside quietly, leaving his suitcase in the car.

She was asleep, of course. Seven months pregnant and glowing with a beauty that stole his breath even in her most unguarded moments. He found her curled on her side in their bed, one hand resting protectively over her rounded belly. Max dropped his coat on the chair and toed off his shoes before slipping into the bed beside her.

He pressed a kiss to her temple, careful not to wake her, and then rested his head gently against her belly. The warmth of her skin, the faint, rhythmic thrum of her breathing, and the thought of the tiny life growing inside her—it was everything he needed to feel whole again.

“Hi, little one,” he whispered, his voice soft and filled with wonder. “It’s me. I’m finally home.”

As if in response, there was a small kick against his cheek. Max grinned, a tear slipping down his face as he chuckled quietly.

“Already a fighter,” he murmured. “Just like your mum.”

Her hand came to rest in his hair, threading through the blonde strands. He startled slightly, realising she was awake, her sleepy smile illuminated by the faint moonlight streaming through the window.

“You’re back,” she said, her voice thick with drowsiness.

“Always,” he replied, turning his head to kiss her palm. “How are you feeling? How’s our little champion?”

“Both fine,” she reassured him. “We missed you.”

“I missed you more,” he said, shifting up to lie beside her, wrapping an arm protectively around her waist. His hand settled over hers on her belly, and they stayed like that for a long moment, the world outside forgotten.

The days that followed were a gift—a rare stretch of time without races, press obligations, or the relentless demands of the championship fight. They spent their mornings in the garden, her feet propped up on his lap while he read aloud from the parenting books she’d stacked on the table. Afternoons were lazy, filled with naps, quiet conversations, and the occasional moment when he leaned down to kiss her belly and whisper to their unborn child.

One evening, as they sat together on the couch, her head resting on his shoulder, she turned to him with a thoughtful look.

“You should tell them,” she said softly.

“Tell who what?” he asked, though he already knew.

“Your team. The press. Everyone.” She tilted her head, watching him carefully. “You’ve been carrying this alone for too long. They’ll understand.”

Max sighed, leaning back against the cushions and closing his eyes. “I like it like this,” he said after a moment. “It’s ours. Just ours. I don’t want them to turn this into... headlines or speculation. I want to keep it safe.”

She reached for his hand, threading her fingers through his. “You’re not just keeping it safe, love. You’re keeping it locked away. And it’s hurting you.”

He kissed her forehead, a slow, lingering gesture that spoke more than words could. “It’s not hurting me. It’s the only thing keeping me sane. When I’m out there, and it’s all chaos and noise, this is what I hold onto. You. Our little one. It’s my anchor.”

Her expression softened, and she leaned into him, her hand resting lightly on his chest. “You know I’ll support you, whatever you decide. But you don’t have to carry this alone.”

“I know,” he murmured, pressing his lips to her hair. “But for now, I want it to stay ours. Just a little longer.”

The break passed too quickly, as it always did, but for Max, it was enough. The air in Austin was electric. Max, back from the summer break and seemingly rejuvenated, had shown flashes of his old brilliance in the first half of the race. But a controversial move during a heated battle for second had earned him a twenty-second penalty. The disappointment was palpable.

In the press conference afterward, he faced a barrage of questions, his jaw tight as he fielded them with his usual composure. But his heart wasn’t in it. He hadn’t seen her in weeks, and the gnawing ache of being apart was beginning to wear on him.

The penalty stung less than the silence in his hotel room later that night. The upcoming triple-header—Austin, Mexico City, São Paulo—meant there’d be no chance to go home. Three weeks without her, without hearing the steady rhythm of her breathing as she slept beside him or feeling the flutter of their baby’s kicks beneath his hand. He stared at his phone for hours, tempted to call, but stopped himself. She needed rest. He could wait.

The race in São Paulo had just wrapped up. Max won, a result he should’ve been thrilled with, but all he could think about was getting back to England. The charter flight to London felt endless, the hours dragging as he stared out the window, replaying every voicemail she’d left him over the past week. Each one sounded more tired, more distant, and it made his chest tighten with unease.

When he finally arrived home, the house was eerily quiet. He dropped his bags in the hallway, calling out her name. No answer. He checked the bedroom, the nursery—they were empty. Panic began to rise as he pulled out his phone and dialled her number.

She picked up on the second ring.

“Hello?” Her voice was soft but carried an edge of exhaustion.

“Where are you?” he asked, his voice tinged with worry. “I’m home, and you’re not here.”

“I’m at my mum’s,” she replied.

“Why?” His voice dropped, laced with confusion. “What’s going on?”

There was a pause, a beat of silence that stretched too long. And then, she said it.

“I had the baby.”

The words hit him like a jolt. He froze, his breath catching in his throat. “You what?” he whispered, as though saying it louder would make it less real.

“I had the baby,” she repeated, her tone gentle, but firm. “Two weeks ago.”

“Why didn’t you tell me?” he asked, his voice a mix of hurt and disbelief.

“You had a job to do, Max,” she said softly. “I didn’t want to distract you.”

“Distract me?” He ran a hand through his hair, pacing the kitchen. “You’re my family. How could you think I wouldn’t drop everything to be there?”

“I know,” she said, her voice breaking slightly. “But I also know you. You’ve been carrying so much this season, and I didn’t want to add to it. You were halfway across the world, love. There was nothing you could’ve done.”

He wanted to argue, to tell her that she was wrong, that he would’ve found a way. But deep down, he understood. She was protecting him in her own way, just as he always tried to protect her.

“Is he... okay?” he asked finally, his voice softening.

“He’s perfect,” she said, and he could hear the smile in her voice. “Healthy and beautiful. I wanted to surprise you when you got home, but we needed a bit of extra help, so I came here.”

“I’m coming now,” he said immediately. “I’ll be there in an hour.”

The drive to her mother’s house felt like an eternity. When he finally pulled into the driveway, he barely remembered turning off the car before he was at the front door. Her mother greeted him with a warm smile and a quiet, “She’s upstairs.”

He took the steps two at a time, his heart pounding in his chest. When he reached the bedroom, he paused in the doorway.

She was sitting on the bed, her hair tied back loosely, her face glowing with a tired kind of happiness. And in her arms, wrapped in a soft blue blanket, was their son.

Max stepped inside slowly, his breath catching as he took in the sight. “Hi,” he said softly, his voice almost trembling.

“Hi,” she replied, smiling up at him. “Come meet him.”

He crossed the room, sitting beside her on the bed. She shifted the baby gently, placing him into Max’s waiting arms. For a moment, he could only stare.

Tiny fingers peeked out from the blanket, curling slightly as the baby let out a soft sigh. His nose, his chin—so small, so perfect.

“What’s his name?” Max asked, his voice barely above a whisper.

“We agreed on Emilian,” she said, her eyes shining. “Emilian Lucian Verstappen.”

He looked up at her, his throat tight with emotion. “You gave him my name?”

“Of course,” she said, reaching out to touch his cheek. “You’re his dad. And he’s going to know how much you love him, even when you’re halfway across the world.”

Max pressed a kiss to his son’s forehead, a tear slipping down his cheek. “I love you,” he whispered, his voice breaking slightly. “Both of you. More than anything.”

As Emilian stirred slightly in his arms, Max smiled. He’d missed the moment of his son’s birth, something he’d carry with him always. But here, holding his son for the first time, he knew he was exactly where he needed to be.

For two precious weeks, Max stayed home. It was just him, her, and Emilian. Those days blurred into a haze of quiet moments—feeding, changing, and rocking his son to sleep. He wasn’t just a racing legend at home; he was a father, learning the delicate art of swaddling and singing lullabies off-key at three in the morning.

His fiancée was radiant, even in her moments of exhaustion. Max found himself watching her more than ever, in awe of her strength. At night, they talked in whispers, Emilian nestled between them in a bassinet. For once, the championship felt like a distant dream.

But as the days passed, reality crept back in. The Las Vegas Grand Prix was the next race and the stakes couldn’t be higher. His rival, Lando Norris, was trailing him by just a decent amount of points, but if Max bottled it, it wouldn’t go well for his title. A strong finish could secure Max his fourth championship, but it would be a fight to the very last lap.

The night before his flight to Vegas, Max sat beside her on the couch, Emilian cradled in his arms. He had spent the entire day rehearsing his pitch, trying to strike the perfect balance of persuasion and sensitivity.

“You know,” he began, his tone casual, “Vegas is going to be a big deal. Probably the biggest race of my career.”

She glanced up from her tea, raising an eyebrow. “I thought every race was the biggest of your career.”

“This is different,” he said, grinning. “If I beat Lando by a certain amount of points, I get the title. My fourth title.”

Her smile softened. “I know. And you will. You always find a way.”

He hesitated, bouncing Emilian gently as the baby dozed. “Come with me,” he said suddenly.

Her eyes widened. “Max—”

“I know it’s a lot to ask,” he cut in quickly, “and I wouldn’t ask if I didn’t think you could handle it. But the doctors said you’re fit to fly, right?”

“Yes, but—”

“Please,” he said, his voice earnest. “I need you there. Both of you. It’s an important race. The biggest one maybe. And I want to share it with my family.”

She hesitated, biting her lip. He could see the worry in her eyes, the motherly instinct to keep their baby safe and away from the chaos of the paddock. But then he reached for her hand.

“Win or lose, none of it matters without you. You and Emilian are everything to me. And if I do win... I want you there to celebrate. I want the world to see what really matters.”

After a long pause, she sighed, her resolve softening. “Fine. But only if you promise to keep us far away from the press circus until it’s over.”

He grinned, leaning over to kiss her. “Deal.”

The Las Vegas Grand Prix was a spectacle like no other. The bright lights, the roaring crowd, and the tension in the paddock made it a night to remember. Max felt his nerves hum as he stepped into the garage, but knowing she and Emilian were somewhere safe in the hospitality suite calmed him.

The race was brutal. Max fought tooth and nail, battling it out with Charles and Lewis in a chaotic, tire-shredding 50 laps. In the end, he crossed the line in fifth place.

For a moment, he thought it wasn’t enough. But then Christian’s voice crackled over the radio.

“Max Verstappen, you are a four-time world champion!”

Relief and joy flooded through him, and he punched the air, his voice shaking with emotion as he shouted his thanks into the radio. The garage erupted in cheers, but Max’s mind was already on her and Emilian.

As the celebrations began, he climbed out of the car, waving to the crowd before pulling off his helmet. He turned toward the pit lane and froze.

There she was, standing at the edge of the barriers, Emilian in her arms. They were both wearing ear defenders, her smile wide and proud. Emilian’s tiny shirt caught his eye, and his heart melted:

My daddy is a 4-time world champion.

He laughed, running over to them as the cameras swarmed. When he reached her, he didn’t hesitate, pulling her into a deep kiss. The crowd roared, and the cameras clicked furiously, but he didn’t care.

He looked down at his son, who blinked up at him with wide, curious eyes. Carefully, Max took him into his arms, holding him close.

“Hey, little man,” he said softly, his voice trembling with emotion. “Your daddy did it.”

Emilian gurgled in response, and Max’s grin widened.

For the first time, the world saw Max Verstappen not just as a champion, but as a father. The images of him holding his son, his fiancée beside him, spread like wildfire. The press clamoured for details, but Max ignored them, too lost in the moment to care.

“This is your victory too,” he said to her, his voice quiet. “I couldn’t have done any of this without you.”

She leaned her head against his shoulder, her smile radiant. “We’re so proud of you.”

As the champagne sprayed and the cheers echoed around them, Max knew this was the pinnacle of his career—not the trophy, not the title, but the family he held in his arms.

the end.

[dannyriccsystem]

i can't wait to read it 😼👐

-🚐

GIMME A BIG BOY..!

FORMULA ONE DRIVER X READER

SUMMARY: Some squeezing and some biting. Featuring Max Verstappen’s boobs 👀

WORD COUNT: 439

WARNINGS: Max’s humongous tits? biting, groping, all consensual, etc.

FEATURING: Max Verstappen x Reader

NOTE: I picked this picture for two very specific reasons. 👀

MAX ALWAYS LOOKED SO DAMN GOOD AFTER A RACE. That wasn’t to say your boyfriend didn’t look good all of the time, but he most definitely looked extra impressive soaked in sweat and a winner’s champagne. You chose to let him go through his processes of winning—the interviews, the podiums, and so on. He greets you briefly, but you save the semantics for afterwards. You have some… Things you’d like to say—or, do.

He finds you after all the celebrations, and that iconic grin of his takes over. Perfect pearly whites twinkle as he walks to meet you in the middle, greeting you with a soft kiss right on the lips. His body is warm, pressed up against yours. His hands are placed firmly on your hips while yours are on his broad shoulders, gently massaging his tense muscles.

“You did good,” You praised, another kiss planted on his lips. He grinned like a cat getting its chin rubbed at your words of approval. With a big huff, your hands discreetly trailed down, palms squeezing at his pectoral muscles. Max flinched, eyes drifting down.

“What are you doing?” He laughed as you leaned in, burying your face in his chest. It was like heaven—so soft, so plush. The perfect pillow. With your hands still groping him, you nuzzled your face deeper against his chest.

You inhaled deeply, and then slowly pulled back. “Just enjoying all the assets I have access to.” He laughed, playfully rolling his eyes.

LATER THAT NIGHT when he settled into bed beside you, freshly showered and lacking a shirt, you couldn’t help but eye his bare chest eagerly. He didn’t seem to notice as he shifted around, both Jimmy and Sassy jumping onto the covers after him. He was mindlessly playing with his cats, but you couldn’t seem to take your eyes off of him.

“You’re staring,” He finally noted, his gaze turning to you. You shifted nervously now, breaking the eye contact between you and his tits. “What’s going on with you today, lieverd?”

“Nothing,” You drawled out, shrugging your shoulders. He raised a brow, and you giggled. With hesitation, Max turned away from you, setting both the felines back on the ground. When he turned back, you pounced almost instantly. You latched on to his chest, nipping softly. He gasped, eyes wide.

“Y/N-!” He brought out into laughter when you left a hickey on his right pec. When you pulled back, he raised his brow again. “Really?”

“I’ve been wanting to do that all day.”

“I’ll get you back eventually.” He rubbed the spot you left a mark on, shaking his head.

[bonbonly]

𝙩𝙝𝙚 𝙬𝙚𝙨𝙩 𝙘𝙤𝙖𝙨𝙩, 𝙩𝙝𝙚𝙮 𝙜𝙤𝙩 𝙩𝙝𝙚𝙞𝙧 𝙞𝙘𝙤𝙣𝙨 𝙩𝙝𝙚𝙞𝙧 𝙨𝙞𝙡𝙫𝙚𝙧 𝙨𝙩𝙖𝙧𝙡𝙚𝙩𝙨, 𝙩𝙝𝙚𝙞𝙧 𝙦𝙪𝙚𝙚𝙣𝙨 𝙤𝙛 𝙨𝙖𝙞𝙜𝙤𝙣𝙨 ✶ the lights, cameras and props aren't enough to hide your mistakes when you've angered a few of your associates ; this follows my hollywood!au and as always 18+, minors dni! ✶ drivers involved: carlos sainz jr., charles leclerc, max verstappen, lewis hamilton, nico rosberg, jenson button, fernando alonso, daniel ricciardo, sebastian vettel ✶ warnings: smutttt, p in v, breeding kink, slapping, cunnilingus, blowjobs, spanking hehehe

🎥 producer!carlos sainz jr.

"famed actress (y/n) (l/n) criticizes Sainz 55's production company... i'm not here to be second..." carlos reads through the headline of the front page, before throwing the newspaper at your face. you flinch and turn your head to the side, breath shaking as you continue to bounce on his cock. your arms are tied behind you with his belt, the leather bound so tight that you swear it might be cutting off circulation. your mouth is stuffed with your panties, the lovely mascara you had bought was now running down your cheek; like delicate rivers streaming across the globe as he put it. he shifts in his seat, causing you to let out a muffled cry as the tip of his cock pushes further into you. his hands are behind his head, a grin on his face as he sees you all helpless and vulnerable like this. just like when you first came to his office asking for him to make you a star.

"after everything we've been through, cariño, this is how you'll repay me? wanting to leave?" he laughs, a coldness in his voice that cuts into your skin. goosebumps trail your body as he gently blows on your hardened nipples, begging for his attention. when you pause just a bit from riding him, he rolls the newspaper and smacks your ass, sending you forward onto his chest. he won't touch you nor help you. instead he bucks his hips forward, relishing in your cries. he can hear your muffled apologies, and he merely shakes his head, "from the top, mi vida, for an award winning actress, you sure are terrible at delivering a good performance for me to enjoy. come on, make me cum before i decide to throw you out, permanently."

you roll your hips, nodding your head as you continue, your thighs burning from exertion.

🎥 actor!daniel ricciardo

"that was my scene, you know that was my scene," daniel hisses into your ear, fingers deep inside you in your trailer. you gasp out loud, gripping onto his shoulders as he continues his relentless assault, waiting for you to cum for the third time. you moan, mouth open wide as he spits into your mouth, grabbing your chin so you can stare into his eyes, "this is my big chance to get back on the big screen. i'm not letting you ruin that for me."

perhaps wanting to outperform him in front of the cameras was a mistake. you do recall seeing the cameraman flinch a bit. you did great, you always did but they could see daniel ready to pounce on you as soon as the director yelled cut. now you're in your trailer, being shoved down onto all fours. he grabs his phone and props it on the table as he slips off his shirt. "we'll see who's better now, cunt" and he brings his head down, eating you out from behind. his tongue slips into your dripping pussy with ease, smiling as you're mewling and shaking. fuck, as much as you hated him for always trying to get in your spotlight, you couldn't let this opportunity pass. you might even help him get a few more roles if he could make you squirt all over his body.

🎥 actor!max verstappen

"ok, i made my sister win those oscars, what are you going to do about it, hm?" max scoffs, leaning against the wall during the afterparty. you snarl at him, smacking him across his face.

"i would've won. i would've won all these years had you not been busy screwing me over like this," you watch him stumble backwards, your handprint blooming on his face. his expression of shock turns into one of anger and he grabs you, dragging you off to the bathroom. once inside, he bunches your dress up and bends you over the counter, laughing as he sees your pussy gaping for him. "schatje, i didn't know your pussy was this sweet, waiting so patiently... crying for me to fill you up."

you're screaming as his cock buries to the hilt inside of you, slapping your ass hard so that every time you sat down, you'd only be reminded of him. he licked his lips, bringing your back to his chest as his pace became faster, "oh fuck, maybe if you became my personal little slut, i'll try talking to the association to give you all the awards next year."

you smile at his words, "fuck... i can get behind that."

"maybe though... it's a maybe. maybe i might change my mind, and fuck this pretty pussy of yours raw, fill you with my cum again and again until the media comes to know of our future child," and despite his words, you're clenching around his cock because you always loved a little thrill in your life.

🎥 producer!lewis hamilton

"how ungrateful of a whore do you have to be?" lewis laughs, watching you on your knees as you suck his cock. you bob your head around his throbbing member, the sinful noises you have to offer fueling him as he grabs the back of your head and shoves you deeper down. "fuck, you sound gorgeous."

he can see you smile through the deed. he looks up to see your offer to switch to his production company for a year. an interesting contract, he knows you'll renew it if you're successful with him. especially if you're worshipping his cock like this. he grabs his phone, and takes a few pictures of you. he even records his cock ramming into your swollen cunt, your tits bouncing as he fucks you raw against his desk.

"rec-recording for oh!" you arch your back, cumming once more before whining as he continued to fuck you, "recording for memories?"

"you could say that," lewis grins, his thumb hovering over carlos's contract. if you were willing to go against carlos's back to contact him again and again, despite all the times he rejected your offers, then how loyal would you even be when you signed with him? you're extremely talented, though, he'd be a fool not to sign you. your cunt was also pure heaven.

🎥 actor!charles leclerc

"how inexperienced do you think i am?" charles scoffs, grabbing your chin and forcing you to look at him. you're on set of a film with him, already getting off on bad terms because you couldn't stand the fact that this newbie was receiving more attention than you. it was a sex scene, one you signed up for because this was just normal for you. only difference was that in this makeshift room with no light at all spare an artificial moon outside the window, charles was fucking you for real. no fake socks, no skin color underwear. he had shoved those panties to the side a long time ago and rubbed your clit hard right before the director yelled action. method acting, that's what the assistants on set whispered before leaving.

"you think i don't know anything, isn't that right mon ange?" he whispers, low enough so that no sound system can pick up his words, it's only meant for you. you gulp, trying your best to make your moans seem fake. the bed's creaking beneath you, tears in your eyes with how good he's fucking you. you shake your head, words failing to come out because now you're arching your back, your nipples brushing against his chin and he smirks, taking the opportunity to lean closer and wrap his mouth around your areolas, flicking his tongue around as you're squirming underneath him.

"oh fuck!" you whisper, silently screaming to the side where the cameras cannot see you, "i cannot believe you..."

"meet me in my trailer after, i'll prove to you that i'm not just some stupid rookie with a pretty face," he nibbles at the shell of your ear, and you bite down onto his shoulder as you're cumming around his relentless cock. the poor set crew had a lot to clean up after this scene.

🎥 director!sebastian vettel

"no, no, no!" sebastian yelled out, rolling his eyes. you'd messed up the take for the 50th time. "schatz, what's going on? what's wrong with you?"

he hops off his chair and walks over to you with a frown on his face, "you usually get these in one take! are you not feeling well?" he places the back of his hand on your forehead, and you shrug your shoulders,

"just not feeling it today," and that makes his face harden. so in your trailer, he's sitting on a chair, your legs in the air as he contorts your body so that your face is against the ground, he lets the blood rush down to your pretty little head for a few seconds before pulling you back up onto his lap. clothes are long gone, he's mouthing the fat of your tits,

"i have a schedule, i have days to finish this film and if you're going to be a brat," he pauses, slapping your face gently so that you get the idea, "on your knees now. right now. you can't say your lines? make that fucking mouth useful then, du hure."

🎥retired scriptwriter!nico rosberg

"you keep coming back here, acting like i'm going to... oh fuck," nico groans out loud, watching you spread your legs out for him. you were always such a tease. even before he quit the industry, you always tried to coax him into a quickie before the ceremony would start. nico falls to his knees, crawling over to you on the bed. he grabs a pen and bites the cap off, spitting it to the distance before biting the insides of your thighs. you yelp in surprise, giggling as a hand comes to tangle in his hair and he glances up at you with hooded eyes and half a smile.

"i guess i could write a script for you," he murmurs, licking your clit rapidly as you buck your hips against his mouth. he wraps his lips around your puffy folds, tugging and sucking before writing all around your cunt and on your thighs. the feeling of the pen's tip alongside his tongue lapping up the gummy walls inside you makes you let out a wanton moan, body arching as you chase after your release. the pen dips further into your skin, the small dose of pain sending your mind into a dizzy mess he shoves the pen to the side and lets his fingers scissor inside your juicy cunt.

when you wake up the next morning with his cum leaking, you also finally see what he's written all over you: my pretty little dumb slut. you're already grabbing the pen to write all over his bare chest.

🎥 film critic!jenson button

"oh," jenson pouts mockingly as he sees you crying, "oh did my words hurt miss princess's feelings?" he grabs your jaw and tilts your head to look at him, "well too fucking bad. you want to insult my intelligence to the press? you want to see me replaced? darling, if it isn't me writing these film reviews, which other journalist's cock is going to have that cunt sinking down on them, hm?"

and before you can answer, his grip tightens, "if it isn't me, i will personally see to it that each review i write is worse than the one before, i have credibility sweetheart. you want to ruin my reputation? i can go one step further."

you knew fighting with him was pointless, but there was a bit of fun in it. up until now, it seems that he really was at his last straw with you. he throws you over his shoulder, shutting and locking the door to his office before throwing you onto his swivel chair. he rips your clothes off like a madman, a hand around your throat as he squeezes gently and soon his hard cock is sliding along your wet folds that yearn just for him to stretch you out. "i should take a photo of you right now and send it to the press. they'd love to see another dumb whore on the front pages."

"i...i'll have you photographed as well," you hiss, bucking your hips to see if his cock will finally slide inside you. he smacks his member a couple times against your cunt, loving the way you're begging for him to fill you up.

"go ahead, i have nothing left to lose. you do that, and there'll be permanent evidence of our affair. you don't do that, i'll still make sure there's evidence," and as you tilt your head in confusion, he lets out a laugh, "going to fill you up with my cum and see if a baby will put you in your place."

he fills you up in one thrust, watching the way your eyes widen as you moan out loud.

🎥 retired actor!fernando alonso

"what do you mean you no longer want to take acting lessons with me?" fernando roars, crossing his arms. his princess, his sweet girl was wanting to cut ties with him? seriously? he worked so hard to bring you to the actress that you are today, giving you all the skills and talent in the world! the reason you were so big now and praised for your performances was because of him! he helped you!

and now you wanted to leave him because some young actor named... what was it? charles? or was it max? or was it even daniel? who even knew anymore!?! but you were being wrapped around SOMEONE'S finger. no, no, this wouldn't do. your stubbornness had its limits, and he was for sure going to make you regret trying to leave him. he has you over his lap, smacking your ass as he makes you count.

every time you hiccupped and forgot to count through the tears, he makes you restart. by the time your ass is covered in his handprints and the tears are now loud sobs, he flips you over and lets you bury your face in his neck. "come on, mi princesa, you cannot leave me, after all i've done! i thought you liked our private lessons!"

"i do, i do! i'm sorry, no one treats me good as you do," you whine, kissing him. he caresses your cheek, using his thumb to wipe away your tears. he lets you show your forgiveness by letting him fuck you as much he wants for the night! you don't know how many times you've cummed, but the more he thrusts into you, the louder you wail. you feel like you're on heaven, his big hands groping your tits, slapping them as his hips snap faster and faster each time. you're screaming as you squirt all over his cock, laughing half-way through with how good you feel. you're unaware that as soon as he's done with you, he's going to pull a few strings to make sure his princess doesn't pull out another move like this again. he's your mentor after all, he's doing what's best for you!

got more ideas/requests/questions for my hollywood!au? send them in!

[callsign-swan]

Out In The Open

Lestappen x reader coming out idk anymore i'm starting to hate tumblr again

Arms around his neck, she kissed Charles's cheek. “Love you, Charlie,” she whispered and kissed his cheek again. 

Not his lips, teasing him in her own way. 

His hands settled on her hips. “I love you, too,” he whispered, tightening his grip on her to hold her still. This was enough teasing for one day, he wasn't sure he could take any more. 

But she released a whine, hips wriggling as best she could in his grip. 

“What's got you so worked up?” 

“Nothing,” she mused and laid her head against his shoulder. Her lips touched his neck, eyes closed as she released a content hum. “When is Max coming home?”

Oh.

It made a surprising amount of sense. Max had been in England for the last few days and they both missed him tremendously. They’d kept each other entertained, but it wasn’t like when Max was there. 

His large, dominating hand guiding the both of them. They had both missed it, missed the way he held them against him. The way he guided Charles’s hips as he snapped them against her own. 

It didn't feel right to have each other without him there. 

“Can we do something while we wait?” She asked, playing with the hairs at the nape of his neck. 

Charles raised his eyebrows at her. “What are you thinking?” He muttered, hands travelling from her waist to her back, and back down to her waist. 

Paws against the floor had her turning around before she could answer him. “Oh, my baby!” She cried and picked Leo up. “Would you like your daddy and I to take you on a walk, little Leo?”

Leo wasn't given much of a choice. They clipped him into his harness, attached his lead and headed out of their Monaco apartment. 

They never got to do things like this. Normally it was just Leo and Charles together while she and Max stayed home. That way nobody could take pictures of them, nobody could speculate about their  relationship.

Maybe they just weren't thinking. 

But they walked hand in hand through the streets of Monaco, seemingly without a care in the world. Just them, Leo leading the way. 

They were blissfully unaware of the people filming them. The grainy, low quality videos that would tell the world that Charles Leclerc was taken. 

But that was only a half truth. 

Because, yes, he was taken, but not just by her. Their blue eyed angel. God, they both missed him so damn much when he was away. It hardly seemed fair that they were allowed to be apart for that long. 

(Look up clingy in the dictionary. Go on, I dare you. There you will find a picture of Charles Leclerc and his girlfriend, reaching out for Max Verstappen).

After Leo had done his business, the two turned and headed home. Within minutes, the videos of them were posted everywhere, spread to every gossip page. 

They were fucked, but they were blissfully unaware. 

Minutes after they got Leo back inside of the apartment and dried off his wet feet (because, really, is there anything better than walking in the rain?) Max walked through the door. 

Max, in his tight jeans and white shirt. No cap on his head, nothing to stop her from raking her fingers through his hair as soon as she pounced on him. 

He dropped him things as soon as he entered the apartment to hold them both close. And they bombarded him with affection, alternating who was kissing his lips and who was kissing his cheek. 

He was overwhelmed with love, and he was loving every second of it. 

“I missed you both, too.” 

Actually getting into the apartment, he kicked the door shut. When Max stepped forward, they stepped back, letting him lead them. 

Bags were under his eyes as he sat on the sofa. As soon as he did, she was in his lap, head against his shoulder as Charles laid his hand on Max's chest. 

“We missed you,” she whispered, batting her eyelashes at him. 

A chuckle left Max's lips as he looked down at her, expression so full of fondness. “I gathered that,” he whispered and kissed her. 

When a (admittedly) pathetic whine left Charles's lips, he got the same treatment. Max's hand on his cheek as he kissed him deep.

She slipped from Max's lap as Charles took her place. But that was fine, since Max's fingers found her. Travelled under her skirt, brushing over her thighs, prodding at her underwear. 

They had each other on the sofa. Max, sitting there as they took turns on his lap, between his legs. And, when that got old, they moved to the bedroom.  

It was a big bed, big enough for two of them to stretch out comfortably, with another in the middle.

They laid together, pressed against each other. Max had his arms around her with Charles pressed against her back. “Next time you leave, you have to take us with you,” she mumbled as she pressed kisses to his chest. 

His fingers travelled up her side and over Charles's shoulder. “I'll see what I can do, he mumbled and kissed the both of them.  

When the two of them fell asleep, Max grabbed his phone from the night stand. He adjusted himself, laid flat on his back as she laid against his chest, Charles curling around her back. 

He scrolled through social media. Memes, f1 memes, gaming memes, posts from Red Bull Racing. He liked none of it, just scrolled and moved on. 

On his private account, he scrolled through edits of Charles. Not liking them, just saving them to his Instagram. 

But then he came across a gossip page. 

Normally, Max ignored gossip pages. When they were speculating on his and Charles's relationship statuses, he ignored the post, didn't care. Nobody knew the truth but them. 

But that was a picture of Leo. And that was Charles, holding his lead. And, holding Charles's hand, was their girl. 

The cat was out of the bag. It was so far out of the bag, it was running down the street. 

“Fuck,” Max hissed, glancing down at the two of them, still asleep against him. 

With no other choice, Max logged back into his public Instagram. 

Maxverstappen1

Maxverstappen1: triple threat

[facefullofsadness]

Could you do a giselle dom pervy step sister(female reader) smut where they don’t like each other at first but ig giselle found a way to turn that hatred into them fucking in secret while their parents are in the house

ANONNNN!!! YOUR MIND!!!! I've been thinking ab this ask for WEEKS and I finally have time to write about it omg obsessed

content - stepcest, blackmail, smut (pervy!giselle, cunnilingus, fingering, face sitting, squirt, voyeurism/public(?) sex)

wc - 2739

a/n - catching up slowly but surely on asks, I have no school this week so imma try my best!

you never really warmed up to giselle.

you never really WANTED to ever warm up to her. she was mean, annoying, obnoxious, and greedy. I mean, how fucking self-centered do you have to be to make your baby stepsis call you by another name because she "doesn't deserve to call me by my real name" as giselle had said. what infuriated you was how pretty she was too. someone who was such a bitch shouldn't get the benefit of being attractive, especially since aeri knew and definitely used it to her advantage. whether it be to the people around her like friends, classmates, teachers, or even your parents, she finessed them like no one's business.

but she could never trick or fool you. you were a challenge to her, and it pissed her off not getting what she wanted. giselle HATED your guts. you were smart, sweet, cute, and generous, traits she simply was not. she hated how your guys' parents eyes' would light up in excitement when you came to them with an academic achievement, looking at you with admiration and love, eyes that would look at aeri with annoyance and disappointment.

aeri's not stupid, she knows why she's disliked, but she doesn't really care. it only really started to affect her seeing YOU be soooo liked by them. she simply hated you because you weren't easy, and you hated her because she saw everyone as easy. though, however much it upset you, it upset her to a degree you couldn't even imagine. she had to win the invisible game, and she was going to get her way with you, one way or another. so she devised a plan, which was to put simply, blackmail.

one day when you were gone at school, she set up a secret camera in your room facing your bed. she laid back on the living room couch in content, watching you come home from school, shooting each other a painfully fake greeting, before you ascended upstairs to your room. during nightfall, you would of course, fulfill your physical desires while everyone was asleep in the house, unaware of the recording device from across the room. and in the morning when you left, your wicked stepsis would sneak back in to retrieve the footage, playing it back and giggling to herself, knowing this would ruin you.

giselle's sweet baby stepsis, a sexual deviant during the after hours, shoving a huge dildo into her pussy to force multiple orgasms from her own body.

aeri was giddy with joy, now owning what single-handedly would win her the upper hand. the day continued as normal, but as you were about to go to sleep, there was a knock at your door. you rolled your eyes when you opened it to find a smug aeri, her phone in her hand with a play button over a still image of you in your room. your eyes shift between her and her phone confused before she pushes you inside and shutting the door behind her.

"what the fuck is that aeri?"

she huffs and sits comfortably at the end of your bed, "first of all, it's giselle to you, don't forget. second, how 'bout I show you?"

playing the video on max volume, your muffled moaning erupting from the small screen, watching a video of yourself masturbating. your ears ring and your cheeks flush, pouncing onto the older girl and trying to tear the phone away from her. your older stepsis is far stronger than you and easily you get overpowered, her hands pinning your wrists together and against the bed, her legs straddling either side of your lap.

with one large hand gripping your wrists together and the other hand hovering the still playing video against your face, she smirks, "what? shy? you weren't so shy last night when you were shamelessly fucking yourself, now were you? hm, y/n-ie? my sweet little sister?"

you grit your teeth and shake your head back and forth to deny the accusation, as if it weren't true. her dark chuckle fills your ears and the room, joined with the loud squelching of your pussy coming from the video. you feel tears start to well in your eyes and you plead with her.

"unnie, please... delete that!"

she coos at you, "awww sweetie, you think I'm that easy? not without a price, I won't."

you continue to plea in a desperate voice, "unnie please! I'll do anything! just please, delete it, or don't share it! anything you want!"

her lips curl into a sinister smirk that you can see even in the dark. you feel your heart drop to your stomach at the thought of what she must've suddenly imagined, immediately regretting your choice of words. before you could even consider opening your mouth to take back what you said, aeri drops the phone and covers your mouth.

"anything huh? will you behave for unnie and do anything I want?"

you debate shaking your head no, but when you hear a particularly loud moan come from the video playing next to your ear, you nod your head yes.

"good girl, you may be stubborn but you're not stupid. a little bit dumb for your choice of words though," she hums above you and trails the hand over your mouth downwards, dragging her long slim fingers across your sensitive body, jerking with every inch of contact she makes.

you whine as her fingers circle your hardening nipples and pinch them between her fingertips, giggling at how your body reacts to her touch.

"sensitive little baby, aren't you y/n-ie? fuck you're so cute, you shouldn't be so fucking cute."

aeri hated how much she was enjoying this almost as much as you did. she hated how cute her little sis was, writhing under her, eyes welling with tears in fear, body reacting to every subtle brush, thighs rubbing themselves together to suppress the ache at her core. and you hated it too, you hated that your older sister made you feel so fucking good, how her touch ignited flames in your stomach, how you panted into the air the more intimate her touch became, how you anticipated and needed more when you realized how disgusting this all was.

you both hated it, but you both couldn't get enough.

looking up into giselle's eyes at the same time she looked into yours, locking onto one another and gazing into lustfilled stares, the tension filling the air. the hatred boiled over and morphed into a new emotion, desire. a compromise emerged, and mentally, you both knew what it was. it all felt too good to want to stop, so you gave in.

leaning up and smashing your lips against aeri's, her immediately pushing back into you, pressing you down into your mattress. sloppy wet kisses loud and echoing through the room, both your moaning filling your ears and drowning out any possibility for moral dilemmas to pierce your mind. the hand pinning your wrists down, traveling up to hold your hand, interlacing her fingers through one and letting the other one go.

you let your free hand shoot into her hair, pulling her closer into you and shoving your tongue into her mouth, eliciting a whine to escape giselle's throat, accepting the intrusion. her other hand finds your thigh and brings it up, wrapping your leg around her waist and grinding her hips against your clothed core, making you both groan out into each other's mouths.

"fuck, you're good. why are you good?" she moans into your mouth.

"I'm not- a fucking- amateur." you pant out between kisses.

"yeah? then tell me, has anyone else made you feel this good?"

she questions, almost as a challenge, and you're scared to answer knowing it's just another piece of blackmail to hang over your head. you both already know the truth, obvious by your hips rutting back against her, your sweat dripping down your forehead, neck, and chest, your core aching with need, and your eyes blown to oblivion.

"fuck you," you answer instead.

she chuckles lowly again, the tone and vibration in your mouth when she does it making your pussy throb between your legs.

"not before I fuck you."

flipping you over and onto your hands and knees, tearing your shorts and panties off, throwing them to the ground. she wastes no time shoving your legs apart and licking along your leaking slit, making you moan out and bury your head into your pillows.

"you're so fucking sick, do you know that? being so wet and horny for your unnie like this, you disgusting little whore."

giselle says as if she's not soaked in her own clothes, nipples hard and hole clenching around air. she feels so powerful, so in control, and it feels so good to have you whining under her. sticking her tongue out and getting to work immediately, dragging her wet muscle greedily and swiftly against your pussy, drinking in all of your slick. muffling your moans into your pillows and clawing at your sheets hard enough to rip them.

her strong grip on both of your legs forcing you to keep them apart, slapping your ass every so often and making you scream out into the pillow. her tongue moves around your core so fucking good, alternating between sucking and flicking at your clit to thrusting and licking inside of your cunt, the sounds unbearably sinful and delightful to especially aeri's ears. she's drunk, on the taste and feel of your pussy, the way your body reacts, and the muffled cries being torn from your mouth.

she closes her eyes and relishes in your delicious juice swishing around her mouth, moaning into your pussy at how fucking good it feels to have you like this. her core aches and throbs so painfully, she clenches her thighs to hold it in. she lands another slap on your ass before shoving three fingers into you, already starting with an unforgivable pace, curling them and finding that spot in you easily. you scream and claw at the sheets, almost assuredly knowing your pillow wasn't muffling your cries anymore, not like either of you cared. aeri was going insane and felt herself becoming more and more addicted to you. addicted to ruining you, addicted to having power over you, addicted to owning you.

with the arch of your back and body stilling, you gush cum all over your stepsister's face, thighs trembling and chest heaving, moans slipping out of your mouth like a waterfall, your pussy mimicking the motions of one too. giselle drank all of it, everything, licking all over your leaking cunt and wiping her face of it too, sucking her fingers dry to not leave a single drop wasted.

she didn't even let you rest as she flipped you over onto your back, quickly stripping of her pajamas and lingerie, before climbing up to your face, her thighs resting on both sides of your head.

"use your tongue for something useful, pervy slut."

pfft, hypocrite.

she gives you no time to respond or think before shoving her fat pussy into your mouth which you immediately start to drag your tongue all over, coating it in her slick. your hands grip her juicy thighs and you dig your nails into them, her wincing above you and gripping the headboard with one hand, the other hand in her mouth to muffle her sounds.

you never rip your eyes away from her face for even a second, obsessed with how much sheer pleasure rests on giselle's face, her mouth biting down on her hand, her eyebrows furrowed in concentration, and eyes clamped shut. your nose hits her clit repeatedly with your tongue buried deep inside her cunt, flicking it to stimulate inside her tight walls. she tastes so fucking divine, cum directly entering your mouth and your spit drooling out the sides of your lips.

her hips quicken and she fully rests her weight on your face which makes you delighted, drinking her up and pulling her in, suffocating between her thighs. not that it mattered, you loved it. you couldn't breathe but you pushed through, thrusting your tongue in her and maneuvering her hips as her clit hit the tip of your nose.

"drink my squirt you little bitch, take it! don't waste a drop! fuck!"

she demands you as she cums in your mouth, her pussy squirting onto your tongue. her thighs shake in your hands and you close your eyes to avoid squirt getting in them. you feel like your drowning in the sheer amount of liquid coming from aeri's pussy, but you obey your sister, drinking everything that slides down your throat. she finally calms down and you tap on her thighs in a panic, literally not able to breathe. she laughs above you and stays there, watching color drain from your face before she lifts herself up, watching you cough and gasp for air.

"sick fuck," she says before smashing her lips against yours' and digging her tongue into your mouth again.

suddenly, she pulls away and gets dressed, picking up her phone and waving at you with that infuriating smirk on her face as she opens the door and leaves, "see you again, baby sis!"

and from then on that's when it started, fucking your step sister in secret. at first it was only at night, every night since the first time. then it progressed to whenever your parents were out of the house, fucking on the couch in the living room, on the kitchen island, in the shower, in each other's rooms. at some point, she started to get more flirty with you, her touches lingering for too long when she held your hips in the kitchen to move past you or sliding her hands up your shirt when she'd greet you with a hug when you came home from school, whispering an "I missed you" into your ear, her breath against it making a shiver go down your spine, which always drove you insane.

at some point though, giselle couldn't give less of a fuck if your parents were home or not, she just wanted to fuck you. your family would be having a movie night in the living room and you'd go to the kitchen to get more snacks, the older girl following you to "help." then she'd pin you to the kitchen counter and slip her fingers down your underwear, dipping them into your already wet pussy.

"really y/n-ie? you're fucking wet? were you eye fucking me all night that you couldn't help yourself get horny? let me help you with that baby."

she would whisper breathily into your ear before fingering you right then and there, you clutching the popcorn bag in your fingers and biting down on your lip, trying so hard not to moan and get caught, thankful the movie was loud enough.

or during a dinner party WITH YOUR RELATIVES, she would "accidentally" drop a spoon on the ground and go to retrieve it, only to separate your thighs and trail a long tortuous lick across your exposed pussy, aeri having demanded you to wear nothing under. you're suddenly gripping your utensils and coughing on the food in your mouth, acting like it went down your throat wrong. your sister climbing back up from under the table with a lost spoon and a smile.

and of course, she fingered you under the dining table that night too, your face red and physically incapable of eating for about twenty minutes, clutching her forearm as you came around her fingers in front of everyone. you had bit down on your lip so hard, blood had started dripping down your chin and onto your dress, excusing yourself to clean up. panting out of breath in your room and ripping the dress off of you, your sister following behind you and pinning you to your bed with a smirk.

"that was impressive baby, you were able to keep in all those delicious moans huh? well, don't you dare fucking keep them in now, they can't hear you from here, and we're not even close to finished."

smashing her lips against your blood stained ones, the taste of metal filling her mouth.

and while you're not sure if you're starting to like your sister or not, you definitely start getting used to it (maybe obsessed).

a/n - the other night when I was looking at this ask, I suddenly had the urge to write a "rich girl aeri x reader fic where they both fucking despise each other and are just rich bitches until one night they both break from all the sexual tension and fuck in the back of aeri's car" fic... I'll get to work-

[no-144444]

fulfilled- m.verstappen

summary: max reflects on his life.

pairing: dad! max verstappen x fem! wife! mom! reader

୨ৎ⋅୨ৎ⋅୨ৎ⋅୨ৎ⋅୨ৎ⋅୨ৎ

The soft light of the rising sun peeked its way under the blinds of your shared bedroom as Max stirred awake. He yawned, knowing he could stay in bed a little longer, but also knowing that any moment, 2 toddlers would run in and wake the two of you up, and you deserved a bit more sleep. He quietly left your room to find his two sons, just outside the door, ready to pounce. They jumped on their father, wishing him a good morning as he chuckled, picking the both of them up. 

“Can we have pancakes for breakfast dad?” Arthur asked, pulling on his t-shirt. 

“No! We should have waffles!” Quinn argued. Those two were twins, but couldn’t be more opposite. Arthur was the quiet, polite, kind child, whereas Quinn was the crazy, funny, sweetheart. 

“What about both?” he offered, and they both nodded, a multitude of ‘thank you’s’ on their lips. 

As they walked to the kitchen and Max placed them down on the counter, giving them clear instructions to measure out the dry ingredients, Layla walked out from her room. 

“Dad!” she cheered, hugging his legs. Layla was 8. The boys were 6. Max couldn’t believe his life. He’d left F1 8 whole years ago, and he couldn’t have made a better decision. He adored being around all the time for the kids. He loved walking them to school, planning playdates with his dad friends, teaching them all about life through his lens. Honestly, he’d been terrified when he found out you were pregnant the first time. You two had been married for 2 years, but you hadn’t spoken about when you wanted to have kids. When you came to him with 3 positive pregnancy tests, teary eyes, and a growing fear, he had no other choice than to step up and comfort you. In those moments, he found himself telling you that he was scared too, but you two would do it together. The next few months had been hard. The 2024 season had been hard in general. Finding out you were pregnant halfway through was harder. As the months went on and he quit F1, he felt himself becoming increasingly nervous. He was scared. What if he would be just like his father? What if he didn’t know what to do? What would happen then? What if you left him because he couldn’t do it?

But you made all of those thoughts go away, promising him that he would be brilliant, that he was the most caring person you knew, and that the way you already loved your child was a testament to that. He’d given up his racing career to be there, he had to realise how big of a sacrifice that was, right? 

Now here he was, making his children waffles and pancakes on a Saturday morning while his wife lay in bed, getting some more rest. 

And he was happy. He was fulfilled. 

He smiled as the twins bickered over a measurement, and Layla was busy sitting on the counter explaining the newest drama of her friend group. 

When he was younger, he really questioned what he was meant to be. As much as he was an exceptional racer, he’d never felt truly satisfied, whereas he knew others who were satisfied after they won their first title. 

It all clicked the day Layla was born. He wasn’t meant to be a racer. He was meant to be a dad.

୨ৎ⋅୨ৎ⋅୨ৎ⋅୨ৎ⋅୨ৎ⋅୨ৎ

navigation for my blog :) (masterlist)

[bunny-jpeg]

Charles Leclerc + pudding chomeur + sangria

bakery menu

thank you for ordering from the menu! orders are still open, so please hit me up! i'd love to make something up for you, these have been a ton of fun and i hope to make more in the future! thank you for all the support! a nice short and sweet prompt for the lovely people at home!

pudding chomeur ("i don't share.") + sangria (drunk sex) served by charles leclerc (formula one)!!

cw: smut/pwp, drunk sex, facetime calls (sorry max!), jealousy, a touch of possessive behavior (but he loves you so much), doggy style, dirty talk, everyone's drunk

charles never considered himself to be a possessive man. there was no reason to be, jealousy was never a good look on him. he had beautiful green eyes, but he was no green eyed monster. but he very much didn't like how max was talking to you.

he also didn't like that the wold champion was eyeing your cleavage then looking to charles in the near distance of the club you were all at. those blue eyes looked to charles, almost daring him with what he was going to do next. max practically had you cornered while you rambled in your drunken state, what was charles going to do?

the devil was a talker, and he was currently in charles' ear.

back in your apartment, charles' hands rarely left your body. you stumbled a little into the apartment as you kicked off your heels and ended up on the couch. but you weren't on there long before charles had you back on your now-bare feet and headed towards the bedroom. charles held onto you tightly as he walked into the room, only to let you go as he pushed you onto the bed.

"strip." he said, flushed in the face and a little out of breath. something came over your charming, loving boyfriend when he got enough alcohol in him. pink in the cheeks down to his neck and his insatiable need for you.

"strip?"

he nodded as he started to undo his linen white shirt, his hands were a little shaky as he got his shirt off, he wore no undershirt and then worked on the belt of his pants. you got your dress off before charles has the chance to rip it off of you.

"you're mine."

"charles."

"say it."

you sat on the edge of the bed, now naked. you then swallowed and said, "i'm yours, charles." you shifted in your spot, "now and forever."

he got his slacks off and soon his underwear. he admired your nude form once you slipped your lace panties off. he watched them fall to the ground before he pounced on you. he pressed himself against you for a moment before he got you on your elbows and knees. your face pressed into the mattress, you moaned as he brushed his cock up against your cunt. "say it again."

"i'm yours, charles." you moaned as you arched your back a little. that was what he liked to hear. it polluted his brain more than the alcohol and it made his cock twitch.

"that's what i like to hear. i'm never sharing you, you are mine and mine alone." he didn't need max's hands all over you. not all over what was his. he continued to rub against you before he sank his cock into you. he covered your body mostly with his as he got all the way the root of his cock.

"charles!" you squeaked as you held onto the covers under you. his pace wasn't gentle, it was rough and it made the back of your skull throb with the intensity of it. when charles was drunk, he fucked you like an animal. a far cry from the gentle pretty boy most thought of his as.

he couldn't help it, something about you mixed with hard liquor made everything fire off in his brain. he needed you, he hungered for you. as he fucked you till you were moaning, he grabbed his phone from his pants that were on the bed. he propped it up on the pillows and as he drunkingly fucked you, he called the only person he could think of.

before max could even say hello, he was greeted to the sounds of your fucking. from your high pitched noises to the creak of the bed. he could see you, but most of all see charles' hungry, drunk gaze.

max chuckled and said, "i guess you're sharing now." his voice low as he admired how charles was fucking you. it was messy sex, the kind of sex that the predestined shouldn't be having.

he said through a tense jaw, "i don't share." then continued to shove your face further into the bed. he looked towards the camera and saw max on the screen, "don't put your hands on her again."

max shifted a little in his bed and was all smiles. even in the low light of the room, charles could see the heat in the drunk verstappen's face. in only fueled him to fuck you harder. max said quietly, "no need to be so rough her, mate. she's not going anywhere."

charles could tell that max's other hand was down the front his sweatpants. he knew that bastard was jerking off to this. he looked back to the back of your head as he loomed over you. his thrusts were hard and made you whine with each movement.

only he could drive you crazy. your noises were angelic and it bled pleasure into charles' head. he briefly looked at max on screen and smiled. all three of you were painfully drunk. max's heavy pants could be heard, but you were lost in your own sexual euphoria. charles continued to fuck you roughly, he watched your ass bounce against his cock as he fucked you right into the mattress.

"please, charles." you whined as you felt everything fill your head. it was painfully hot. there was nothing else quite like it. you drooled onto the bed as he fucked you. the pleasure made your head feel heavy. it was a sick sexual heat that left you clamoring for more. you were drunk and your lover was drunk.

"i got you, baby." he said, he could feel the sweat down his back as he rutted up inside of you, "you look so beautiful. tell me who you belong to, who fucks you just right." who owns you, were the unspoken words.

you whined, not knowing max was on call, "charles. fuck, you, it's you!' and you clawed at the covers, you felt the urge to climax. you moaned heavily as he continued to fuck you.

you both didn't last long, and neither did max. you came first with a harsh moan which only spurred charles to finish inside of you with a loud groan, that bordered on high pitched. and max bit into his palm as he came to not alert you that you were being filmed. charles wiped his eyes to focus himself before he turned off the call without even saying goodbye, leaving max to clean up his own mess. the phone was put further on the bed before charles got you onto your back.

he admired your sweaty features and your blissed out state. he licked his lips before he hiked up your hips, "i'm not done with you. i'm going to mark you so max never touches you again."

-

the next morning, charles woke up and checked his phone through bleary eyes. he had very recollection of last night once the two of you got home. he noticed that he was on facetime with max for over half an hour. he assumed he had fallen asleep while they had a conversation.

that was until he checked the text message that the driver sent him. the words made charles' eyes go wide.

'she looked good under you. maybe next time i can join." <3

[sukunahs]

It's obvious I'm your no.1 / part 2 (f1!sukuna headcanons)

f1!sukuna x teammate’s sister!reader

content: 18+, smut, fem!reader, hidden relationship, biting, piv

a/n: in honour of max’s win in imola today, here’s part two of f1!sukuna

Pt 1 / Pt 2 / Pt 3

f1!sukuna who smirks openly down at you when you next run into him in the paddock, ignoring the suspicious scowl that your brother throws his way.

f1!sukuna who finds a way to ‘accidentally’ touch you at every possible opportunity. A light hand on your shoulder as he brushes past you, hands on your waist to gently move you out of his way when squeezing through a narrow gap.

f1!sukuna who is delighted that you don’t give him the cold shoulder after your last night together, returning his discrete touches, and pulling him away to a quiet corner to steal a quick kiss for good luck before his race.

f1!sukuna who loves that those stolen kisses become a habit, you always finding a moment to slip away from your brother’s side before the race, your hands running up Sukuna��s compression shirt that he wears beneath his race suit, your lips pressing softly against his as you tell him to stay safe.

f1!sukuna who lets you try on his helmet, listening to your cute, muffled giggles from underneath it.

f1!sukuna who loves it when he pulls his helmet on for the race after that moment, only for his nostrils to be flooded with the scent of your perfume.

f1!sukuna who just seems to be getting faster and faster on track, desperate to impress you, eager to have you in his hotel room once again.

f1!sukuna who’s always glancing over at you when he’s doing his winner’s interview, impatient to get his media obligations done with so he can pull you away.

f1!sukuna who pulls you into his driver room after he wins, still in his race suit, kissing you breathless as he presses you up against the wall, adrenaline pumping through his veins.

f1!sukuna who releases some of his pent up adrenaline by pulling down the collar of your shirt and leaving love bites along your shoulders, a desperate and primal need to leave his mark on you, to claim you as his.

f1!sukuna who’s always desperate to fuck you right there after the race, but he knows his pr manager will be coming by any second to keep him on schedule with the media.

f1!sukuna who used to go out and party after his wins, who now mysteriously vanishes back to his hotel on Sunday nights once he’s done with his interviews.

f1!sukuna who always finds a moment to slip you his hotel key, knowing that you’ll be in there waiting for his return, even if it means you have to lie to your brother about where you’re going each weekend.

f1!sukuna who practically pounces on you when he gets to his room, there’s nothing that gets him more riled up than seeing you sitting pretty on the bed, wearing nothing but some red lacy lingerie that he bought for you.

f1!sukuna who sometimes wonders why he buys you lingerie at all though, as he’s so quick to rip it off you, hands gripping greedily at your pretty tits.

f1!sukuna who loves to get you on your hands and knees, watching as you arch your back for him as he takes you from behind.

f1!sukuna whose hands tangle in your hair, pulling you up so your back is pressed against his chest, his fingers rubbing against your clit as he roughly fucks into you, making you cum on his cock.

f1!sukuna who always finishes inside you, he loves the sight of his cum dripping down your thighs.

f1!sukuna who wishes that you could be in his bed every night, he sleeps better with your soft body nestled up against him.

f1!sukuna who loves racing but is relieved when the summer break rolls around because he can finally get you all to himself.

f1!sukuna who takes you to an exclusive resort in Greece for two weeks, far away from the cameras and anyone who could potentially expose your relationship.

f1!sukuna who spends that time with his hands all over you - if his fingers weren’t entwined with yours as you walked along the beach you could be sure his hand was resting on your waist, keeping you close to him.

f1!sukuna who loves having you at his side all the time, no stolen moments, just you and him all alone.

f1!sukuna who fucks you nice and slow on a private beach, taking his time now he has you all to himself, making love to you with long and deep strokes that have you whimpering and whining.

f1!sukuna who sucks marks onto your neck because for the first time he doesn’t have to worry about someone else seeing them.

f1!sukuna who wishes that those two weeks didn’t have to end, who wants to world to know that you belong to him.

f1!sukuna who wants your stupid brother to know that secretly you cheer for him, who wants to see the look on his rival’s face when he finds out that your heart belongs to him.

f1!sukuna who sees that worried expression on your face when he suggests you go public and decides that he’ll bite his tongue for now.

f1!sukuna who knows that for once in his life he just needs to be patient.

f1!sukuna who knows that you’re worth it after all.

[minarinnn]

girl dinner anon here please can I have more crumbs of Kunigami and Barou your writing for them was so good and I haven’t seen anything new for them in a while 😭🙏

I dunno if I want anything specific- maybe like breeding or something but you can do whatever your heart desires desires 🙏🙏🙏🙏

OMG I ENJOYED WRITING THAT SM NGL, this took longer than expected but honestly it’s bc i kinda forgot to post it so yh sorry for the delay lmao

content/trigger warnings: afab! reader, characters are aged up, breeding, mentions of pregnancy, pregnancy kink, degrading, praising, groping, rough sex, implied size kink

BAROU

barou always pulled out. he didn’t mind it. there was never any real desire to get you pregnant. that was until he saw you with his baby nephew at a family event. the kid was around 2 years old and you spent almost the whole night fussing over him

you played, fed, and even cuddled with him. he saw his nephews sleeping figure in your arms as your soft hands caressed his back. he doesn’t know why but barou felt all tingly inside. he never had the urge to do it but the thought of you carrying a kid that looks exactly like him turned him on immensely

so when you get to your shared apartment and barou pounces on you, you think nothing of it. you’re like putty in his big, rough hands. you really couldn’t get enough of him

the way his dick stretched you out perfectly, bruising your cervix as you moaned out his name. your pretty nails scratching and leaving marks along his back while his heavy balls smacked against your ass

your eyes rolling back over his rough pacing that immediately makes you go dumb on his fat cock. his hands groping all over your body as he growls lewd things in your ears that make you clench impossibly harder on his dick

“it hasn’t even been ten minutes and you’re already dumb on my cock, huh? you pretty little slut” the words making you whine and your eyes water. “i’m gonna fuck my baby into you” he grunted, reaching deeper into your soaking cunt “you’d like that, wouldn’t you pretty?”

you nod, babbling incoherent words as your second orgasm washed over you, making you buck your hips towards him. “i’m’a make you a fuckin’ mommy” is the last thing he said before dumping his seed into your cunt, thrusting it deep into you, making you take every single drop

KUNIGAMI

kunigami has always been a big family guy so the though of having a family of his own always excited him. but when you said you didn’t wanna have kids yet, he respected it. though he did have the habit of asking questions like ‘when do you think you’ll be ‘ready?’ ‘how many do you wanna have?’ ‘do you want any at all?’

so when you told him you were getting off the pill, not because you wanted children, but because of the side effects that came with it, he was oddly weird about it. maybe it was because he enjoyed cumming inside of you and now he had to pull out

the next few times go by with him pulling out, he didn’t like doing it, but he respected you and your wishes. as much as he’d like to dump his cum into you like he used to, he knew he had to restrain himself

but when the words “im ready” and “please cum inside” slip out of your mouth while he’s pounding his dick into you, he goes feral. his pace immediately picks up, making you moan in pleasure as his thrust went from gentle and loving to rough and quick

kunigami’s mind was filled with images of your belly growing and your boobs heavy and sore. the thought of you carrying his baby just fueled him to the max

you could feel his dick twitching within your gummy walls as his lips feverishly kissed along your entire body, his thumb rubbing circles on your thigh. “you’re gonna be such a good mommy” his sweet words contrasted his rough pace. you could feel his big cock pushing past your cervix and his breeder balls smacking against your plush ass

with a few more thrust and a few whines, he painted your walls white. resting his sweaty body on top of yours while he kissed your shoulder. both your chest’s heaving up and down while your hand roamed his fluffy orange hair

“i hope we have twins”

© MINARINNN 2023 - please do not plagiarize or upload my content on any social media platform.

[norrisleclercf1]

Max and lando with landos win at zandvoort make some fluff

Pretty please 🥺🥺

A/N: I'm so sorry, that I haven't written this I promise it was not forgotten I made it Norstappen x Reader hope that was okay

Oh, how hard it is to be dating two people, but when those two people are currently in some type of championship battle, you don't know how to act. Do you cheer for the underdog, the one thrown to the wolves, proclaimed to defeat the mighty Lion.

Or, do you go for the Mighty Lion, the next coming of the sport that constantly breaking barriers and records, the one who is the proclaimed legend of the sport. You stood in McLaren hospitality as it was Lando's turn to have you there as you stood in Zandvoort, watching he just built the gap more and more.

Covering your mouth you watch as he crosses the finish line the fireworks making you jump as you listen to his radio and hear those familiar words cross his lips. "Oh, Lando," You sigh, knowing this would cause an uproar for Max's fans, but also others would use this to fuel the rivalry that is growing.

Putting down the headphones you walk down as you see Lando celebrate with a simple fist bump, Charles and Max pulling in behind him. You stay back, not wanting to draw attention to you, as people didn't take kindly to you being "friends" with both Max and Lando. Lando looks through the crowd and see you, giving you a small thumbs up, you give it back but turn seeing Max walk past simply clapping Lando on the back as Charles takes his place as his yapping buddy.

"It's always those three on the podium," Someone comments, which has you thinking back making you giggle as they were there for Miami and now here. The podium was one you have remembered for you slink off heading to check on Max, as the sting of losing your home race was not easy, you already experienced it was Lando and Silverstone.

You wait in Max's driver room as he opens the door, drenched in champagne, sweat and God knows what else he's covered in. "Hi," You both whisper as Max stays silent and moves around the room to get changed you merrily watch him. "I heard Lando's radio," Breaking the silence you wait for his reaction but you can see him smiling, wither it was one a predator gives before eating it's pray or one of genuine pride of Lando being so bold, you were unsure.

"Mhm," Is all you can say as Max turns eyeing you, but you give nothing away as you try to always remain impartial the how do you say? Switzerland in your relationship as the war rages sometimes even in the confines of your shared home. "Is it wrong it was somewhat hot of him to do that?" Max asks, making you back against the wall you look up.

"Max, I told you, I would not get involved," You whisper softly as Max raises a blonde eyebrow and smirks, "Calm, I won't do anything," He mumbles and gently presses his lips against your forehead. "I'm going to find Lando, see you back at the hotel," He mumbles, turning on his heels and walking out. It was rather hard to find Lando in the see of orange.

The orange army was out in droves, but so was the papaya fans, it was rather annoying in the moment but Max would deal with it, as he moves around taking pictures and signing stuff he stops noticing the familiar curls he loves to tug and pull, scruff and yank him by. The fans love it, always calling Lando his kitten, oh how true it was.

Moving into the shadows he waits and pounces as Lando yelps and he covers his mouth, Lando fights but stops seeing the piercing blue stare into his sea green. "Simply Lovely," Max whispers as he feels Lando smile against his hand. "Yeah," He mumbles, making the older chuckle and tug him closer and kiss one of Lando's moles. "You were very hot today, told you could beat me," Max whispers making Lando shiver.

"I always beat you," Lando whispers and Max raises an eyebrow as Lando swallows his tongue knowing he just lied big time, "Don't get cocky yet, okay," Max smiles and moves hugging Lando just breathing in the scent of champagne, sweat, and just a hint of Lando's cologne.

"Love you," Lando whispers tugging him in by his waist hiding his face into his shoulder. "Love you too," Max hums kissing his neck making Lando giggle.

[sizzlingcloudmentality]

sugar tits

Max Phillips x f!reader | wc: 3.8k | explicit, mdni | ao3

summary: driving Max to meetings is part of your job as the assistant. providing him with snacks and your tits to busy his hands and mouth is part of your situationship.

warnings: no use of y/n, ablebodied reader, reader has tits big enough for titfucks, established coworker-with-benefits situationship (and a sprinkle of idiots in love), blood (duh), blood drinking (duh²), blood play (duh³), spitting, Max and reader being kinda switchy, pet names (sugar tits, Maxie), breast play, nipple play, titty fuck, breastfeeding but vampire style (you've read it here first), cum eating, dm me if I missed any

a/n: this is my embarrassingly late entry for @burntheedges roll-a-trope challenge. it sat half finished in my wips for months. I got assigned 'roadtrip' and road tripping is driving around and eating, right? This is for my titty fuck (fic) and Max enjoyer. A lot of love, as always, to @guiltyasdave for the usual: beta, hyping, going feral over the pointy teeth man 💛💛💛

“Sugar tits!”

You sigh and check the rear view mirror. Max smirks at you, splayed on the backseat of the car, looking dapper and cocky as always.

“Sugar tits, can I have a snack?” He bats his lashes and purses his lips into the fakest of pouts that you have ever seen on his face.

“You already had your snack. Remember? Before we left?” You raise a brow and glance at him again. Still this shit eating grin on his face.

“Yeah, I remember. But I can’t taste your pussy on my tongue anymore. My mouth misses you, sugar tits.”

You shake your head, not able to hide your own smirk now. “No. It hasn’t even been two hours. Patience is a virtue, Max.”

The pout on his face is a real one now. He shoves his hands deep into the pockets of his slacks, his fingers starting to fondle himself. “Bitch,” Max mutters and then sees a shit eating grin spread on your face. HIS signature facial expression. He would love to slap it out of your face, with his dick. “Whatever,” he grumbles, pulls one hand out of his pockets and reaches for some paperwork to look over.

Work trips with Max needed a little more planning. It was like traveling with a toddler at times. He needed attention, enrichment, constant skin contact, he needed his special seat (in the back, all windows blacked out of course) and snack breaks.

You spoiled him. Spoiled him rotten. And the consequences of your actions are now sitting in the backseat, glaring at you, licking over his teeth and gums. He looks like he’s gonna pounce on you any second now. 

You take a hand off the steering wheel and reach behind you, patting his knee.

“Maxie,” you coo and give him your best doe eyes in the rear view mirror.

He frowns, his lip twitches. He is hangry, and while your hangry makes you grumpy and verbally lash out, his hangry makes him snap necks. 

“Don't. Maxie. Me,” he hisses and licks over his gums again. They pulse in the same rhythm as his fangs that start to grow and push out. The same rhythm his dick throbs in his briefs, too. Hungry always means hungry for all physical pleasures. “Pull over. Now!”

Sometimes you couldn't tell if he was really about to snap or if he was just acting like the big bad vampire to get what he wants as fast as possible. And honestly, you didn't want to find out. 

You find a break area a minute later and when you join Max in the backseat, he is all over you in no time. 

The position is practiced, a habit formed through daily repetition over the course of months. It’s comfortable, almost cozy, it makes your heart flutter and not only because Max drinks from you.

You are pulled underneath him, one of your legs between his thighs, and like hormonal teenagers you rub against each other in the back of the car. 

You can feel it, sense it in the powerful movements of Max’ body on yours. He tries hard to hold back but the hunger in him is primal, raw. You let him take what he wants at this point. With his eyes darkened and fangs on full display, it isn’t about wanting anymore, it is about what Max needs.

“Need you, sugar tits,” he groans with his open mouth pressed against your pulse point already. He tries to hold back, because he likes you. Straight up eating you would not be a nice thing to do. He wants to be nice, just a little bit, and just for you. “Be a good girl for me, will ya?”

With his hands kneading your tits and his fangs grazing your neck, his thigh pressed against your crotch and you grinding down on him, there isn’t  much else left to do than to nod. You like that he needs you, that he takes a liking in your blood specifically, maybe even in your mouthy behavior.

“I’ll be good. Take what you need,” you murmur and pull down the collar of your blouse for him. “But no stains, I don’t have a-”

His patience wears thin, it’s barely there. Stains. As if he was a messy eater. He snarls a “shut up”, a hand finds the back of your neck to hold you in place, but also to make it as comfortable as possible for you. He is no monster. 

Max nuzzles the crook of your neck, taking in your scent, the blood, the perfume, your skin. His tongue licks over your pulse point, once, twice, he can already taste you.

Something sharp grazes your neck, it feels like two needles. Another lap, warm, soft, wet and then he bites you. His fangs cut through your skin and the underlying tissue with ease, a feeling you will never grow accustomed to. 

When your fingers clutch his arms, gripping the fabric of his suit jacket like he grips the back of your head, Max coos with his lips latched to you. He never asked how it feels for you, being fed from. But he imagines, sometimes, when he feels pathetic and sentimental in the emptiness of his apartment, that it doesn’t feel too good.

He is no monster. Soothing circles are massaged into your scalp, he shifts his weight to not crush you and he hums, hoping it would help you with the uncomfortable feeling. The first drops of your blood spill into his mouth and he licks them up like a cat licking up spilled cream. 

“Go ahead,” is all you murmur and it sounds like a quiet wince. “‘s okay, Maxie.”

He sighs softly, changes the angle of his jaw and the sweet coppery blood fills his mouth. So sweet, so warm, your heartbeat on his tongue. He laps, swallows, whines. You taste good. Special, lively, warm, like calmness. Whenever he feeds on you it fills his veins with your essence and his mind with your… acceptance of him being an abnormality of nature? You taste as if you like him. Not just the sexy vampire aura, but him, Max. Maxie.

He drinks a few mouthfuls, slowly, even though his hunger for you tells him to drain you. He would never drain you. That would mean killing you, losing his favorite blood bag, the only one he has. The only one he wants. Your blood warms his heart and he swallows it together with the emotions that start rising up in him. He is no monster. But he is no wimp either.

Your fingers relax, a hand roams up his arm and all that you can hear in the back of the car is the quiet suckling and swallowing coming from Max. He ruts against your thigh, semi-hard and with less neediness than before. His hunger starts to slowly disappear, and even though he still lays on top of you, even though he still feeds on you and rubs himself against you, this is for comfort. That's what you suspect, at least.

You once asked him why he did this, the hums and rubs, the pressing of his tongue on the tiny puncture wounds in your neck without really drawing any more blood. He scowled. He wouldn't need comfort. This was all part of the process. And you clearly had no idea about that. 

Max was right, you didn't know what was part of the feeding and drinking and what was not. 

But you tested your comfort theory out one evening: you stroked over his hair, hummed in response and spoke softly to him. And instead of making fun of you, Max almost became affectionate. He almost snuggled up, closer to you.

You never spoke about it again, about this moment of softness. When he lifted his head that evening, he smiled. You smiled back. Then the moment was over and he talked about a presentation for the next day.

The rutting stops and the languid licks over your wound turn into a soft kiss with his lips lingering, as if he's afraid to disrupt the connection with you.

“Feeling better now?” you ask softly, breaking the silence in the car.

“Mhmm,” he hums against your neck and for a second you think you might get another one of those cuddly soft cotton candy moments with him.

Max shuffles slightly, one hand still holding your head in a comfortable position while the other one creeps up your side and finally finds its place on one of your breasts.

“Been good,” he murmurs and squeezes you once. “Made no stains. I want a reward, sugar tits.”

“You already got your reward, Maxie.” You turn your face towards him and catch him licking the corners of his mouth clean. “The little sippy sip?”

“Yeah, but I also want your tits. Please?” He flashes you a wry smile and his teeth look like white marble with red streaks.

You tug on a strand of his hair, just harsh enough to see his smile turn into a lopsided pout. “No. There’s an important meeting in an hour and we still have to get there. Titty time takes forever with you.”

He knows you're right. And he hates the thought of arriving too late to the meeting and losing the pitch. With a groan his face disappears in your cleavage, one hand kneading you desperately. His voice is muffled while he whispers and gently tugs on a mouthful of your tits. Something about “be back soon, Linda and Rita” and you know he’s talking to your tits, again. Max truly is a tit man, a man sized toddler who is doing the grabby hands whenever you're wearing something that shows a sliver of cleavage.

“But afterwards, right?” He looks up at you, expectantly. The demand is clearly written all over his face. You nod your head because saying no isn’t an option with a moody and cranky vampire.

“Yeah, after the meeting.”

The meeting was good. Really good actually, of course. Max convinced the other party to throw a whole lotta money at him and the company. And when you exit the elevator together and enter the underground parking, he is strutting like he just got five inches taller and his balls bigger.

While you search for the car keys, Max is searching for the fastest way to feel your skin under his hands. He doesn’t care that someone could see, or that there are security cameras everywhere. He just needs to feel you. You manage to open the car before he pulls up your blouse and you get on the backseat with him. When the door closes with a quiet thud you know that there’s no escape. Not that you wanted one in the first place.

Max after a successful business thing is not so different to the everyday version of him: cocky, arrogant, horny, hungry. Dangerous. But everything is maxed now. His eyes are darker, teeth sharper, voice lower and somewhere between sweet and lethal. A predator needing his fix.

“Sugar tits…” he croons, licking his lips as he pulls on your hip and drags you under him. Vampire strength, manhandling but the supernatural kind. You don’t even question how you end up in certain positions anymore.

Max is straddling you, all you see is the strained fabric of his slacks, bulging thighs left and right of your torso, a throb behind the fly. His hands on your chest, palming, pawing, squeezing.

“You’ll let me have this, right? Let me have you like this?”

A rhetoric question, you both know it. So you just nod your head yes, hands already roaming over his thighs, higher, until you feel his hard bulge. Palming, pawing, squeezing. Two can play a game and you're always the lucky loser.

Max involuntarily bucks into your hand, immediately annoyed about his body’s lack of obedience. 

“Patience,” he snarls and contradicts his words with hasty fingers unbuttoning your blouse and letting your bra snap open. Front closure for easy access.

Both of you sigh in relief. You because the straps aren’t cutting into your shoulders anymore and Max because he finally can return to his playground, his homebase. He cups your tits, gently, as if holding something precious, and buries his face right into them.

“That's my good Maxie,” you coo with your hand in his hair. You get a happy purr from him when you breathe in deeply, your chest rising. His nose is nestled between the swell of your breasts and he almost can smell your heartbeat, taste the creamy thud on his tongue.

He licks you, the salt on your skin like an amuse bouche, the first little treat in a line of more tasty courses. Open mouthed, flat tongued, prickly fanged he moves over your flesh, his thumb rubbing over your nipple and making it stiff.

He pinches it, tugs at the bud until you wince and until he can hear you clench around nothing. Yeah, he fucking loves his hightened vampire senses. 

“Want you,” he slurs with his tongue kitten licking the other nipple, coaxing it to tighten and peak, “feed me!”

They are sensitive, hurting even. He knows it, your muscles twitch with every lick and every tweak. And when he closes his lips around your nipple, you suck in air and hold it deep in your lungs.

With his hands on your tits, Max settles on top of you. He loves this, your warm, soft flesh almost spilling through his fingers, the weight of them perfectly resting in his palms. He loves how sore your nipples taste. Because he licks them so often, sucks on them, suckles himself into a state of sleepy horniness every night.

It soothes you, too, despite the pain. Something inside of you always kicks in, something embarrassingly motherly. But when you hear him smack his lips, the sound of him swallowing his own saliva and your–

“Ow…” you hiss when his teeth cut through your skin, and he is still sucking your nipple into his mouth. A gulp, a purr, his hands kneading your breasts now in an attempt to increase the blood flow.

“Maxie.” A sigh falls from your lips, somewhere between affection and lightheadedness. 

He lifts his head a little bit, slowly sucking on your tit, drinking your blood. But his big brown eyes, the shine in them… Perhaps it’s some vampire poison that lets you have these thoughts, but he almost looks like he really cares for you, beyond the blood and breasts.

Another purr comes from him and when he moves to the other breast. Long threads of his spit mixed with your blood dribble from his lips. Max is messy on purpose. He likes the way you look like this, skin glistening like tart cherries, plump and sour and sweet on the tip of his tongue.

Max likes the feel, too. His hands press your breasts together and rub them to spread the bloody drool before you feel a sting around your other stiff peak and the wet heat of his tongue. This time the suction and slight pain makes you moan. The grip in his hair tightens and when you push him closer Max obliges happily.

Closer and more. That is all that is on his mind. Before you it was only ever more. But with you? He wants to be closer. On your skin, under your skin. And he wants you under his skin, too. In his bloodstream, flooding every cell in his body, running through his veins and heart and brain and dick.

“Fucking need you,” Max mutters, fangs and tongue still half-way latched onto your tit. He is hard, digging into your thigh with every roll of his hip. He pushes himself up enough to watch how his saliva slickens your chest, combining with the tiny drops of scarlet blood, running from around your nipples.

You only notice that he isn’t wearing his pants anymore when he’s straddling you again. Crouching over you, he makes the backseat feel even more cramped. Max’ thighs cage you in, his skin cold against you, but it’s the look on his face that sends a shiver down your spine.

Blood is trickling from the corners of his mouth, with his fangs on full display. He knows he looks like a monster. He is a monster. One with a hard cock begging to be taken care of. You’re already reaching for him, looking hungry for him. 

“Don’t, sugar tits. Just relax. Look pretty,” he says and spits in his hand. “Can you do that for me?”

You watch him wrap his fingers around his cock and stroking himself. He is impatient, you can tell by the way he squeezes himself and his nostrils flare again. You’re quick, appeasing the beast with a nod.

“I'll look extra pretty. And Maxie?” Your hands cup your tits now, and you pinch your sore nipples with a wince.

The leather of the seats creaks under his knees when he shifts, bringing his cock between your breasts. The sight alone lets Max moan. He tears his gaze away and looks back at you. Eyes half-lidded, your lip sucked between your teeth, the tiniest frown on your face because you’re aching for him. He can smell it.

“What is it, sugar tits?

“Fuck my tits real good.” You push your breast together, burying him between them. Smirking. Knowing exactly how to pull on his strings to make him lose it.

Max just scoffs, As if he ever doesn’t fuck you good. He pulls back and, with a groan, pushes his throbbing length in between your blood and spit slicked tits. You’re so warm and soft and wet. Not as tight as your pussy and so different to your mouth and ass. But nothing matches the look of your bloody tits and hands. And the look of his cock, covered in a mixture of spit and blood and his leaking precum. Max loves to see his tip appear and disappear again from between your breasts squished together. And he loves that sound, this distinct wet sound of fucking your tits, so sloppy and slippery.

He could take his time. He could make sure that you enjoy it too, with his hand between your legs maybe. But he doesn’t. He'll make it quick, because you’re hurting, basically folded in half on the backseat. Max will take his time later, with you in his bed and his fingers in your pussy, then his tongue, then his cock, then his tongue again. Fuck, he really is soft for you. 

With his hands clutching the seats he picks up the pace. Each stroke drags his balls back and forth over your skin, your sternum deliciously hard beneath every inch of his cock while there is still blood oozing from the bite marks he left on your nipples.

“So pretty like that,” he rasps between thrusts, whining when he sees you pinching your nipples again. “Best tits I ever had. Best. Fucking. Tits.”

The tinted windows start fogging up, the air inside the car becomes stale. It doesn’t need the senses of a supernatural bloodsucker to smell it. The iron stench, the precum, the spit, the arousal leaking out of you while you're rubbing your legs together. You love the tender Max, who sometimes peeks through in silent moments, but you also love him like this: raw, messy, needy. The perfect excuse to be nasty yourself.

”Cum in my mouth, Maxie,” you breathe softly, already licking your lips. “Cum down my throat.”

He snarls, lips twitching to bare his fangs as he tries to not lose all of his restraint. He never told you, and never will, but this is the hardest part. To keep himself human enough when you are feeding into the beast he is. Especially now. With your fingers kneading your breasts, smearing your own blood on them, keeping them pressed together so he can fuck himself stupid between your tits.

“No,” is all he manages to spit out, his hips stuttering now. “Fuck, sugar tits. Gonna cum.”

He hears you clench, hears the soft squelch of your soaked panties cutting through your folds so you get some kind of pressure on your clit. He smells it. Smells whatever was left of his last load trickling out of you. Jesus fucking Christ, you didn’t even clean yourself up since last night?

That does it for him, and with a howl he spills himself on your chest. Pearly white mixing with the scarlet that’s already coating your skin, his cum spouting up to your neck and chin. Max keeps thrusting until the rush ebbs away. He swallows thickly, admiring his work that almost looks like a Jackson Pollock, painted on your tits. Signed by the artist himself, with bite marks all over them.

Pulling back and yanking your hands away so he can get to his second favorite part: cleaning up. Tasting himself and you. Gathering his spent first with his fingers and then his tongue, he starts licking and slurping, lapping broad stripes up from between the valley of your breast to your collarbones. Licking over your nipples, just because he loves them so perky and sore, cleaning up the last drops of your blood. Saving up a small pool of his now red tinted cum.

“Want some, sugar tits?” He looks up, eyes dark and shimmering, his lips and chin and cheeks having a wet sheen. You just nod your head, opening your mouth and waiting for his fingers, dipped in cum.

But he leans down instead, licking the last remains of his load into his mouth and moving up to hover over your face. He smirks, fucking smirks at you, wiggling his brows and then spits his cum into your waiting mouth.

You swallow him down, the distinct taste of both of you spreading on your tongue. 

“Menace,” you murmur, your head lolling back onto the backseat. You need a moment. The thought of actually driving now lets you groan.

“Funny way of saying ‘thank you’,” he teases, his sharp edges softening a bit. “Here…”

He finds the wet wipes you have stored under the seats and starts cleaning you up, then he opens the wrapper of a granola bar and pops pieces of it into your mouth. “Your blood sugar is too low, sugar tits. You taste awful.”

“Funny way of saying you care about me.”

“Shut up. I don't,” Max hisses and scowls. And feeds you another piece of granola bar. “Just making sure my blood bag is kept alive.”

“Sure, Max,” you roll your eyes and close your bra and blouse with a few winces. He nudges your leg, bottom lip jutting out in a bratty pout.

“Sure, Maxie,” you correct and sit up.

His pout dissolves in a toothy grin. 

“That's more like it. Now move your ass and do your job, sugar tits. Drive your boss home, chop chop.” 

✨comment or reblog so Max calls you sugar tits, too. you know you want him to. 😌

find my general masterlist here

dividers: @bernardsbendystraws

[forsworned]

USE YOUR HEART ft. NEEDY!SIMON 'GHOST' RILEY

Warning(s): Sexual Content, Grinding, AFAB!Reader, Mentions of Narcotics

Synopsis: Simon is high off of morphine and it reveals his true feelings for reader...

Author's note: Idk because @dmitriene told me to do it and i <3 her

"I don't wanna be alone."

His voice breaks as he reaches out to you. His usual stoic demeanor had completely diminished in your presence. For the first time, Simon was needy. You gaze down at his hand gently gripping your hand, "I need you." He says. Pleas even. Dark, stormy, and now conflicted eyes are peering up at you and he tugs you toward him. You didn't know how to react. Seeing Simon so injured and broken makes you feel some type of way. Somewhat wrong, but somehow...powerful?

"You need me?" You finally spoke up. His Adam's apple bobs up and down.

"Yes.” He croaks out.

The morphine that has been coursing in his system finally kicks in and you were experiencing the lowering inhibitions of Simon Riley, not Ghost.

The Simon Riley laying out on the infirmary bed before you at this moment was vulnerable, desperate, and reliant on your presence and aid--insistent even.

But naturally, you're hesitant. A situation like this is compromising and delicate. Given the nature of the circumstances and his stature, he is obviously still at an advantage, but it feels wrong to pounce at the opportunity. You don't want to feel like a predator skulking about as he studies you with reliant, onyx hues.

You look at the time on your watch.

12:38 AM

It was quite late, but the tugging of his hand over yours disrupts your train of thought.

"C'mere. I want you by my side." He susurrates and you're in a bit of a trance at the resonance of his soothing, sleepy tone. It's not its usual gruff and gravelly, but instead a lulling rasp that pulls you in.

"It's late, Lieutenant." You gently chide as you attempt to pry his fingers off your wrist, but he takes his free hand over your own and pulls you flush against him. Goddamn, he was strong. Even in his dazed and confused state, he is built like a fuckin' boulder.

But he's not listening to you as he fiddles with your fingers, tracing over the skin and where it creases and finely wrinkles. Over the nail bed, and the unfiled ridges, down to the chip that you earned from earlier when you reached for your gun in your holster too quickly. He's thumbing over the half-moon on your thumb and then the scar on the meat of your palm before he brings it to his masked lips as if to kiss it over the fabric.

A small, shuddering breath escapes you, and your eyes are glazing over before you swallow thickly. He cups your hand over his jaw and inhales sharply as he closes his eyes.

"Don't care." He replies, curling his bicep around your waist and secures you so have nowhere to go.

Your heart thuds at the contact and your cheeks are teeming with warmth. And suddenly it feels like the heat in there is turning to the max because you're sweating like a dog under his keen gaze and snug hold on you.

"Want you to stay." And it's as if he's speaking purely from the heart when he looks at you like that. You want nothing more but to crumble into his arms and cave into whatever feelings are lurking within you, but there's an urge to maintain your professionalism. And Simon senses that. He wants you to let go.

Why? He didn't know. Be it the drugs, the near-death experience, or the fact that you look utterly gorgeous under the strong moonlight or all of the above; he wants you with all his being.

His bandage-wrapped fingers loop around the bottom of his mask and he's lifting it up to expose just his lips as it scrunches up under his nose. Even if you have seen the sight a multitude of times over the years of knowing your Lieutenant, it is always as awestriking as it was the first time you saw it. His pretty rosy lips kiss at your wrist and you're stunned.

"Stay." He croaks out.

"And then what?"

You can't help yourself from asking such a silly question. You just need to feel needed by him because there is just something about the clinginess in his body language that pulls you in for more. If Simon is being honest right now, he's on cloud motherfucking nine. He's so high that everything feels like tunnel vision right now and you're the only damn thing he can focus on, not that he would want to focus on anything else.

So when he's telling you to stay, he damn well means it. But he also wants more. He's telling himself not to be too hasty, at least the logical part of him, though he is following his heart's desires. And his heart is conveying to him that he yearns for your closeness, for all your regard, and selfishly enough, your own heart.

At this point, all reasoning is being tossed out the window when he fixates on your trembling, shimmering eyes and your quivering glossed lips that are slightly chapped. But he's thinking to himself, one kiss. One kiss would fix that for you.

Simon is no longer struggling to sit up when he's tensing you closer to him feeling the sweat wetting the small of your back. His brows slightly raise and you feel your cheeks flush at his little observation, but he's not halting his motion to close the short distance between you two. He's bringing his hand over the nape of your neck, carding his scarred fingers through the tendrils of your hair and a soft sigh leaves your lips.

And the way you visibly relax draws out a small smile onto his lips as your foreheads collide. You don't even dare to open your eyes. You swallow thickly as you feel your breath become shallow and sharp. It fans against his lips and he's feels even more enticed to just kiss you.

"Dammit, [name]..." He finally breathes out. And you're eyes are on him and he can feel a thrill creep up his chine when he sees the flash of longing overcome your half lidded gaze.

And now you're yearning to bridge the distance, creeping closer to him, nudging your nose against his, and faintly brushing your lips over the stubble on his philtrum. You notice how his chest huffs out, stuttering as it leaves his lungs.

Long blonde lashes tickle at your own as your lips graze and you're heart is thumping out of your chest. You feel yourself holding back from your own hankerings but the moment that Simon brings his thumb to skim over your bottom lip, you feel the tension snap like a rubberband and you're crashing your lips against his. To hell with ethical conduct and decorum, you want nothing more than to satiate your thirst for him.

And with every kiss, you feel like your hunger is being appeased. The ferocity that grows in the depths of your groin is clawing out as you clamber on top of him and you're tuning out the noisy heartbeat monitor that's becoming rapid. And it cuts out, thanks to the swift movement of Simon pulling out the cord so he can nestle his hands under your shirt and slip his tongue between your open-mouth kisses.

He's losing himself in you and he doesn't care because the feeling of your nails digging into his abdomen is more than pleasant. As if the morphine wasn't dizzying enough, he was starting to feel like he was reaching some sort of seventh heaven. Especially when he hears the soft whimper that leaves your lips when he thumbs atop your hardened bud and gently tweaks it between his fingers.

The tent that's starting to feel like it's pitching between his legs is getting ground upon and he shudders at how fucking good it feels.

"Fuck." He murmurs as he lifts your shirt up to expose your breast to him and he's latching his lips to your sensitive nipple. It's a soft probing of his tongue against the erogenous zone and you're instantly arching your back and he grasps at your hips to abrade your clothed sex against him. And it feels so fucking good.

So, naturally, you're not stopping. And Simon can't help but become absorbed in your pleasure. Your milky moans are like music to his ears as he switches over to your other nipple. The friction builds in your lower belly as you get into a good rhythm and it becomes increasingly euphoric with every roll of your hips. And fuck, it's not even much but the way you are so touch-starved makes it all the better.

"Simon, I—hah—gonna—" You moan out, throwing your head back in ecstasy as his tongue swirls around your bud. He's already addicted to the way you're saying his name between your whimpers.

"Cum." He commands, as he clutches your hips to help achieve your oncoming orgasm. His sexy, raspy voice is enough to send you over the edge and a terrific gasp escapes you as you bury your face into the crook of his neck. Your breath is gone and you feel like your voice melts into a deep, hot sweetness that soothes your electrifying nerves.

There is a brief pause of silence as you catch your breath and the embarrassment skulks in and you don't want to withdraw from him. You only focus on his heartbeat which slows and his breath that levels. Your throat tightens as you shift awkwardly and his hand on your hip feels a little limp. You take another moment to memorize how he smelled to help you calm your nerves.

The aroma of his natural musk enmeshed with the faint scent of cypress digs into your brain as you try your hardest to engrave his essence before it slips away. With one more breath of courage, you withdraw from him to face the music but it seems he's fast asleep. His thumb is still hooked into the belt loop of your jeans, and you can't help but giggle at him.

A small sigh leaves your lips as you calm down from your climax and your shaky fingers, lower his mask back down so it's stretching over his neck. Maybe if you slip away right now he'll think that it was just a nice little wet dream...

But you feel his hand cling to you as you try make your sweet escape.

"Thought I told ya to stay." He mumbles under his breath while he wraps his arms around your waist, securing you and making certain you're not leaving his side anytime soon.

There's a feeling of assurance that fluxes over your edginess and you can finally breathe again. Simon's body feels weightless as he lays in this infirmary bed with your toasty form atop his. It feels heavenly to have your figure pressed against him and he hums in contentment. He's replaying the sound of your moans and the way your body writhed under his touch. And you're starting to feel the rigidity of his dirty thoughts against the zipper of your jeans.

"You sure?" You murmur back, feeling the warmth sidle back into your cheeks.

His grin grows under his mask and you can feel it against your forehead. Sleep overtakes him, but he gives you one last squeeze.

"'m sure."

[preblacksmith20]

Laser Tag Battles - Adults Allowed

content: how each driver would react to being invited to your niece/nephew’s laser tag birthday party.

drivers: Lando Norris, Max Verstappen, George Russell, Charles Leclerc, Ollie Bearman, Kimi Antonelli, Alex Albon, Oscar Piastri, Carlos Sainz, Yuki Tsunoda, Lance Stroll, Nico Hülkenberg

Lando Norris

- he is so game. immediately.

- i’m so sorry but he is the worst

- or rather he’s doing so well until he commits one *one* act of friendly fire against you and loses it in a fit of giggles

- the kids hear him and pounce. it’s merciless.

- he never recovers

- still claims it’s the most fun he’s had at a birthday party in years

George Russell

- he’s bringing a great birthday gift but he’s not getting in the arena

- he is running a betting pool amongst the parents in the observation deck (if you’ve read that condominium text fic you KNOW what I mean)

- you will be getting a text in the match from him asking you to take out Tim (you know the small child wearing the blue jacket) to hedge the bets

- the parents (specifically the moms) love him…it’s the most fun they’ve had at a birthday party in ages

Max Verstappen

- isn’t into the laser tag game but is very in to the racing simulator games in the lobby

- you come back from the game to find him amassing a small group of boys begging for him to teach them

- yes, he has the high score. why do you ask?

Charles Leclerc

- the little girls swear to defend him on sight

- pretends like it’s just for fun but is buzzing to go

- somehow maneuvers his little death squad of girls to victory

- he wins. most kills. no one knows how it happened

- all the kids beg to know his secrets. is immediately the coolest kid at the party

Ollie Bearman

- so happy to be involved

- is handed a thirty second penalty for lifting children up to see over the barriers (you think he’s safe from FIA oversight at a laser tag arena? fool.)

- all the enemy children decide to gang up on him

- loses for the sake of sparing the children

Kimi Antonelli

- accepted as one of the kids immediately

- something about his energy just draws the kids to him

- is so serious about the game while still having the biggest smile

- wins the first round but loses on purpose for the second one

- your niece/nephew demand he comes to the next one or honestly any family event going forward

Alex Albon

- tries so hard to get the kids to focus on a strategy

- his strategy isn’t bad, but the kids immediately scatter - all plans forgotten

- leads a war cry to rally the troops after losing the first game

- somehow it works. he’s a legend. a hero

- he has like five new children that treat him like they all served in a war together

Oscar Piastri

- disappears immediately during the first game and finds the perfect spot overlooking the arena

- honestly would have had the most kills but got lost in the neon maze trying to get back to base to recharge

- the enemy kids hold him as a war prisoner

- second game goes on a rampage against the other team…a child cries

- he feels so bad

- your team of children thinks he’s a hero

- the parents have to have some awkward conversations on the way home

Carlos Sainz

- is the most well-dressed person by far and so polite

- acts like he doesn’t understand the game so the kids can explain it to him

- he plays but really tries to make sure your niece/nephew has a great time first and foremost

- for the second game asks to be on the opposite team as you and you two spend the whole game locked in a 1v1 battle (both giggling like the children)

Yuki Tsunoda

- you know that one really quiet and shy kid at birthday parties? yeah well that kid immediately takes a liking to Yuki and won’t leave his side

- Yuki swears to protect and help the kid

- you don’t see them for the rest of the game

- Yuki and the kid have the most points by FAR

- thanks to Yuki, the kid is hailed as a hero

- has so much fun and you catch him looking up laser tag leagues

Lance Stroll

- oh he definitely loses

- but he has more fun than anyone, kid or adult, so much so that you’re a little jealous

- turns out his laser was broken

Nico Hülkenberg

- also loses but realizes it’s the bad laser

- asks the random kid crying in the corner to trade with him

- helps the kid to the exit

- still manages to get top five

[billskeis]

i quickly thought of this after watching a porno and needed to get it out.

ᡣ𐭩 loser virgin bill and his experienced gf

“a-and you’re sure you’re okay with this..?” he stutters as you’re already opening your mouth, drooling at the pretty cock in front of your face, mushroom tip leaking with pre. you stop and just look at bill, whose thighs tremble in nervousness but anticipation as you talked about giving bill a blowjob.

“of course i am! wouldn’t have gone this far if i wasn’t, hm?” you lean your head to rest on one of bill’s thighs looking up at him as he sits upright on the edge of his bed, propped on his elbows as you sit on your knees placed right between his legs. “o-okay..” smiling brightly at the boy in front of you.

sticking out your tongue, wet with drool from how you’re salivating. you’ve been waiting for this moment forever, the right time to finally pounce. from simply hanging out and watching movies in his bedroom, you pulled up with the ‘can i suck you off?’ question, leaving bill in complete and utter shock. and to your surprise, he said yes.

bill has no experience. whatsoever. its so cute. he gets all shy and flustered whenever you make an advance on him. holding his hips, kissing his neck, whispering dirty things into his ears. he’s never known what it’s like to cum. never masturbated in his life. never seen porn before. he’s never fucking seen a tit or pussy, period.

this excites you to the max. you can’t help but physically get wet at the thought of taking your boyfriend’s virginity and corrupting him. and here you are, about to make it happen. you lick up the length of bill’s cock, he whimpers, it’s high pitch and nasally. fucking delicious, you thought.

“ahhnn, y-y/n..” “shhhh baby just let me do all’tha work mmkay?” he nods feverishly, gripping the sheets as you work your tongue along the shaft of his penis. feeling it throb against the flat of your tongue, you moan, propping both your hands on each of his thighs as you hold them wider and begin to bring your whole mouth to the tip of his cock.

engulfing it, you swirl your tongue around the head, ensuring that you lick up alllll the precum that gloops out. “oohh.. f-fuck..” you kitten lick at his cock and look at him, smirking as his dick stays in your mouth, “feelsh’good?” as you talk with his dick in your mouth, bill can’t help but shudder at the erotic scene in front of him. is this what porn is like?

“ja.. my tummy feels nice..” bless his heart. “does it now?” and before he could speak, you go down, bobbing your head up and down his thick length as you motion your tongue to continuously run against the flesh of his cock, feeling every vein that decors his member, cupping his balls in your hands as you fondle them.

“eek! schatzi! no! please!” bill’s legs attempt to clamp close as he tries to bring your head up from his cock, overstimulated from the sudden pleasure of a blowjob. he’s sooo sensitive.. but it’s his fault! how can someone so cute never have gotten a blowjob?? you feel honoured to be his first, and you wanna make sure it’s the best and last he’s ever had.

you swat away at his feeble attempts to escape from you. sucking even harder, you’re hollowing out your cheeks and stick your tongue out deeper to make sure you don’t gag, deep-throating him. his tip hits the back of your throat leading you to moan at the sensation. bill can only moan, mouth formed into an O shape as the rest of his body falls against the bed, there’s no winning with you and he’s given up on trying to stop you.

the sounds are nasty, lewd, wet, and squelchy as you blow off your boyfriend, occasionally stopping to pay extra attention to the head of bill’s cock, his favourite spot. you can tell it’s his favourite because he get’s especially whiny when you do.

“y/n..! y/n baby please stop ‘m gonna pee.. please!!” but you don’t. you don’t understand the concept of stopping because you’ve already gone this far. but bill doesn’t understand that he’s not actually gonna ‘pee.’ how silly of him x3! such a naive boy..

as much as he wants you to stop. he feels shooo good. he’s just too shy to actually admit it, feeling like a complete loser for moaning and whimpering like a bitch in heat cause it’s his first blowjob. he hates how much more experienced you are than him. he wants to make you feel good too! but that’s a discussion for a later time.

as you suckle on the tip, bill finally sees white. breathing extremely heavy, his moans are caught in his throat and they come out as cries. his thighs shake and tremble as he paints your throat walls a creamy white. you milk him, ensuring to suck out every drop of cum from him. it’s delicious, you love the taste. it’s even tastier coming from bill, an addicting ambrosia that you can’t wait to get more of.

latching off bill’s cock with a ‘pop!’ you lick at the cum that formed on the flesh of your lips, relishing in the taste. smirking at your boyfriend, you giggle at how he can’t look at you, eyes darting to everywhere in the room but you. that is, until you cup his face to look at you and place a kiss to his lips.

you dart your tongue to enter his mouth, assaulting his own. tasting himself, he cringes at the taste of his own cum. you like this? he moans into the kiss, not knowing where to place them, holding himself up on the bed instead as you now sit in his lap. as you part lips with him, bill snuggles his head into your chest, now hugging you. “you okay? how was it?” “felt s’good.. i want more..”

petting his hair, you can’t help but laugh at how cute he is. you get up from his lap to grab the tv remote from the floor, movie finished from your previous session. reaching for it from over the bed, bill gasps as he stares at you in front of him, ass up with your skirt all ridden up to reveal the wet patch on your panties. you’re soaked from just sucking him off. “y-y/n.. you’re.. um, i-i—”

“hmm? oh! ‘s all your fault billy.. now come fix it..”