#second hand watch singapore

[leclsrc]

wanna be nearer ✴︎ mv1

genre: 18+, fuck buddies ahhhaha, smut, porn w/o plot basically...

word count: 3.6k  

It seems every time you tell yourself to stop, Max comes back into your life and all sense of resolve crumbles. title from this

auds here… hiii :) req'd by SO MANY PEOPLE i can't even start compiling all the asks hahah but if u asked for this here it is! writing's been tuff for me lately but this was the one thing i could continue daily (weird) also there is a case to be made re: max's hottest pictures being like 1 pixel in resolution... hope u all like it!!!

nsfw warnings under the cut!

18+ because... sexual tension, penetrative sex, some vague sexting/a sex tape being watched, praise/dirty talk central, size kink, unprotected sex, handjob (f receiving), max being a meanie

It’s busy today. You haven’t seen him all day. 

To be fair, you weren’t necessarily looking—not at first, anyways. How many days had it been since the last time, now? The one in your hotel room? Almost two weeks, you think. The real answer’s blurry in your head, especially when you count the close calls, but this should be a record for you two at this point. Neither of you acknowledge that the only reason you’ve been so good at staying away from each other is because when you’re not roped into the same media junket, you avoid each other at all costs.

The media pen is full; everybody’s shoulder-to-shoulder because a few other networks bought their way into the space for the Singapore race. Right when your mind settles back into the focus of work, though—

“Here,” he says, his voice rough and tickling your ear. You nearly stumble forward, shocked at how his voice almost vibrates through you, a low trill that ripples top to bottom.

His hand settles at the small of your back, like his verbal confirmation wasn’t enough on its own; it’s big and his thumb rubs softly at the smooth strip of skin in-between your low skirt and your top. “Passing through.”

“Sure,” you say, dry. “Sorry.” You clear your throat and cant backwards into his touch—briefly, before you step forward and allow him to pass fully. Across you, Lissie looks up from her phone and you sense her trying to gauge why you’re so close to Max.

You blink and wait for him to disappear, wondering what you’ll tell her—how, more like. How the conversation even opens. How you’d phrase the truth, which in itself is a horribly grey area. Well, Lis, if you must know, Max and I have casual sex. A lot. It’s actually not very casual. We stopped now, but—yes, Max. That Max, yes. 

“What about Max?”

Your eyes snap upward and then to your left, where you can see Max’s figure disappearing into a crowd of engineers. They return to Lissie and you feign confusion to mask panic. “What?”

“You were spacing out and then suddenly said his name.” She presses the tip of her pen onto her chin, humming. She doesn’t look at you and you thank God for it—eye contact would’ve rattled the truth out of you in seconds.

“I…” You shake your head. “I was irritated with—I’ve been irritated with him all morning. It’s. Yeah.”

“Oh,” she says, nodding, looking away for a second but not pausing. “Oh, okay. D’you wanna go over this edit again?”

—

The stale air of his hotel room, alleviated only by the vaguely fragrant linen spray they use when he’s out, is what greets Max when he arrives in the afternoon.The first thing he does—the only task he’d even thought of en route here—after the door clicks shut is pull up his Messages app and type.

Just got to hotel. He tosses his phone onto the bed while he waits, tugs his cap off and rakes reckless fingers through his hair. His new stylist’s got him onto jeans that don’t “look painted on” (you once said, verbatim), but he’d rather die than lounge in denim, so he swaps them out for just his Calvins.

His mind’s lethargic, but even his version of lethargic is high-drive for others—his brain has the silly tendency to work in absolute overdrive. He itches for a drink and orders a Scotch on the telephone. He checks his phone, which is lying facedown still, and as soon as he picks it up it chimes with your reply.

OK, nice. Did u need something?

No, just wanted to let you know. He hits send, then adds another. You’re off @ 8?

Ended early, I’m in the car. He’s in the middle of drafting a response when you send a follow-up.

I thought we agreed no contact unless business

He scoffs out a dry laugh. Despite himself, he reads the text in your voice, his brain completing the image of the bossy tone with crossed arms and a wickedly arched brow. In response he types: Can’t even update a friend nowadays? I am very tired you know.

Rules are rules, he reads. Then, Get some rest.

Yeah. Got a drink.

I said rest, not drink. Even then he can hear the exasperation in your voice.

How was work? I hurt a muscle doing training. That’s why I’m at the hotel early.

Feel better soon, you send. Had some press stuff today. Boring shit

Yeah? I missed you today.

Really?

A lot. He hums and leans backward, lets his head settle into the pillow, the smell of the linen spray consuming his nostrils. He waits for his phone to buzz, vibrate softly on the hard surface of his chest. It does, after a few minutes, after he’s let his eyes shut and let himself rest them for a bit, after the room service comes knocking and gives him the Scotch he’d requested while ago.

He’s back sitting on his bed when it vibrates. He picks it up and reads: How much?

You’re awfully easy to rile up. He smiles around the rim of his glass—he knows exactly where this is heading. 

So much I think I’ll watch some videos of us.

The only caveat of casual sex as two people who essentially dislike each other is the fact that it’s all under wraps—which means if you two try to sneak off together, or are even caught in the same vicinity, people raise suspicions. And that means there are weeks where you barely get to fuck.

And that means you both grow antsy for it. He makes fun of you for being needy, when you’re tipsy and palming at the denim of his jeans or when you bend over when you know he’s looking. But the truth is he grows needy for it, too, craves you like you’re all that matters—he gets extra handsy, drops another innuendo when he knows you’re listening. There is a case to be made that he’s worse, in fact, because fans sometimes skirt around his words and wonder why he sounds so flirty when you’re the reporter in the room.

It was difficult but eventually he found a minor workaround: sometimes he films the two of you. There’s none of those propping his phone up kind of stuff, he just fishes for it in the middle of fucking you so he can store it for himself. It’s locked on his phone and he only has a few (the few has grown in number lately), but God it gives him release when he needs it and you’re not there.

I’ll call you when I’m at the lobby, comes the response. It’s always futile, the attempts to stay away from each other.

He pulls up the folder and lets his eyes skate over the thumbnails, squeezes himself through his boxers. Fuck. He can’t seem to decide what he wants to watch—the ones of you sucking him off, the ones of his fingers stretching you out. He recalls the whine in your voice in each of them, the pleads that escaped you for him to fuck you harder.

So Max, for the life of him, can’t even count how many times these videos have made him cum. But there’s one he hasn’t seen yet—the one he took the night before you two parted. You’d become extra needy on this night, preceding the season, he supposes, the separation. You already were anticipating the deprivation, starved for him more than usual. He’d have kissed you pretty, given you one orgasm after another and still you’d want more. And on this night it was you who asked him to film, you who wanted all of them on tape, so you’d both have something to tide you over until he got to fuck you again.

He pulls his cock out and strokes over it. And with his other hand, he presses his thumb on that video.

In it he’s fucking you in the dark, keeping the phone’s flashlight on your pussy as he sinks his cock into you. When he pulls back out the light reflects on the slick coating his dick, makes it glisten. It looks so wet, sounds so wet, with each thrust into you. He remembers just how it feels; he imagines that he’s back in your bed, fucking you again; that his fist is your pussy, and the spit lubricating it is the wetness that’s drooling out of you on camera.

He can see how tight you are—the way your pussy grips the shaft each time he pulls his cock out, greedy for him. Just like you.

The two of you were supposed to be quiet, too. You were at a hotel, your room beside another driver’s; you were supposed to be careful not to stir anyone. But your moans are louder than he remembers; so is the way you say, breathily, between gasps, Right there, Maxie, m’so close. Max inhales through his teeth, his cock throbbing at that—that Maxie, the cute little whimper out your mouth.

He strokes himself faster, watches the way your fingers slip into frame to rub at your clit, his thrusts getting sloppier and sloppier. He can see, hear—feel how wet you are, the sound of your cunt growing wetter with every thrust. He hears his own voice again, mutter out So good for me, yeah? And your babbled affirmation in response.

You cum hard, your slick getting everything wet and shiny and Max watches himself cum next. His dick’s already spurting when he pulls out and lets himself release on your lower stomach, some of it shooting onto your tits. He blinks, anchors himself back, quickens his wrist and digs his heels into the bed to keep himself from coming. Just a second longer. He knows what comes next and he needs to see it.

Like clockwork, he watches two of your fingers swipe through his cum, bringing them up to your lips. You blink up at the camera and smile. Quit it, your lips mouth, pink and cum-slick. Put it down, Maxie… fill me up again. He releases in weak spurts over his fist, a damp, flushed grunt escaping him as he does. He feels like the air’s been knocked out of him.

His phone rings and he presses it to his ear. “Hey, angel. Come on up.”

One week later

“Vodka,” you say to the bellboy when you get to the elevator. “To my hotel room. Very cold. Please. And thank you.”

The guy scurries off to fetch it for you, and five minutes and one elevator ride later, you're wrestling himself into your room, flexing your sore foot. Japan does hotel rooms well. The leather of your Manolo digs into your foot the way it does after you’ve walked the entire day and you can feel a blister forming on the back of your right heel but it doesn’t really matter, you guess, if you’re already home. Hotel-home, anyway.

You expect to find solace lounging on your bed, waiting out the hours to your morning briefing for the race and throw back a glass or two of vodka. 

Instead, you find Max on your couch. He’s sipping ice-cold vodka—your ice-cold vodka.

“Hey, pretty,” he says. “Good vodka. I got staff to wire my FIFA on the TV.”

You just stare. “My TV. What,” you say, your eyes spotting the bottle of frosty vodka by his glass, “are you doing here?”

“I hadn’t seen you all day and I wanted to,” he explains simply. “Do you want food or something?”

“Food? I—nevermind,” you shrug. You’re frozen by the door, only just warmed now from the cold air that bit at your bare legs. “Max, how long have you been here?”

“Since Will Buxton started the post-FP debrief,” he huffs. He fiddles with the remote in his grip and extends it to the TV, where FIFA comes to life. “Aw, come on, angel. I know, I know. No sex and all that. I just like your company, you know?”

“Please. Go fuck yourself,” you scoff, toeing off your shoes and wiping your hands on the fabric of your skirt. He says one thing but you expect another—it’s only natural, given all the other times one of you had failed to keep a similar promise. But still you walk yourself beside him, fix the strap of your short dress, and allow him to pour you a drink.

“You know what I’ve been thinking about lately?” He asks absently. “About how you’re always having these talks with me about… about not having sex anymore, but you never even last two days.” He raises you the glass. “What is it, relapsing?”

“Fuck you,” you mutter. “It’s only because you keep trying to get me all hot and bothered.” You recall each time: in Monaco, in Madrid, in France. “Maybe if you got off my back once in a while, we’d be back to normal.”

He shrugs. “You just don’t have strong resolve.”

“Excuse me?” You scoff, irritation scratching at your throat.

“Wanna test that out? Come play.”

Your eyes flit over to the bright screen, all exhaustion cleared from your system. An animated Kylian Mbappe kicks a football in a loop. “Fine. One round and you’re out of my room.” He throws his hands up in surrender and you make a move to sit next to him. Max puts his hands out towards you then, nodding. You mistake it for some handshake, accept them, and then he’s wrangle you onto his lap facing outward. You feel your pulse at your throat as he pulls you tight against him.

“This is cheating,” you say, your voice dry.

“You got it wrong. Teaching.”

He moves his fingers atop yours, explaining what to press, what goes where, what to do for this or that. He can smell your perfume, hear your stilted breaths, and when he peeks over your shoulder he can see where your dress falls loose, showing the lace of your bra and your tits underneath them.

If he had it his way, he’d hike your dress up and have you ride him. But he’s given you a challenge.

You play a practice round and end up scoring a few goals, fingers making quick work of the buttons. Behind you, Max watches, content, answering your questions when you ask them hurriedly—how do I do this? That? Did I just score?

You score once, then twice, then three times, and before you know it you’re scoring in quick succession. The game is fun—it’s easy. If Max was trying to give you a hard time, he failed. You grow determined, competitive within seconds (something he really should’ve anticipated), and you’re scoring goals with skill that you’d confidently say rivals Max’s.

Max. You almost—almost forget he’s there, and then you sit up straighter and you’re hit with the sensation of his dick pressing into your ass. You inhale sharply and the controller clatters to the floor.

“You okay, pretty?” His hand comes up to rest on your knee, inching closer and closer with every hitch of your breath. Your hand, now free of the controller, seizes his, stopping it right at the middle of your thigh. 

“I’m fine.”

“Yeah? You look stressed.” He doesn’t move. “You were so close, too, weren’t you?” The score stares you right in the face: 4-5. “Maybe you just need to get your mind off it.” It’s so bullshit, so extremely obvious, but he’s right in your ear and his hand is so near where you’ve missed its presence.

You’re usually competitive. You can usually hold your ground. But with this and him—

“Maybe,” you breathe, loosening your grip. He spreads his legs, spreading yours in the process, and brings his hand closer, running slender fingers over the lace material of your underwear until you’re squirming. It grows damper the more he touches, your mouth hanging open with stunted whimpers.

“You always come back to me, schatz, don’t you,” he says, whispers against your ear. You wrench a moan out. “Remember the first time? You interviewed me in Abu Dhabi… you teased me the whole day and begged to come thrice in my room. The time in Monaco you touched yourself to me when I was in the next room. The time we almost hooked up in Miami…” He groans, to himself more than you. “You’re a dirty girl.” He’s curling two fingers inside of you now, grazing against the sweet spot pulls the most delicious moans out of your innocent mouth.

“Every time… you go, that was the last time.” While your mind recaps the memories he’s busy spelling into your ear, Max’s fingers are curling inside of you against that sweet spot just right, and your moans are getting louder and louder.

“Fuck,” he huffs, watching your flushed face get more and more euphoric.

“Aw, pretty, look at that,” Max laughs. He’s looking at your thighs, watching the way they tense and shake as his fingers stroke your g spot. Each pump and curl into your twitching pussy feels better and better, and your dripping walls are starting to clench around his fingers.

“Wait, I—I can’t,” you pant, lolling your head onto his shoulder and involuntarily bucking your hips upward. 

“Yeah you can,” he orders. “It’s so easy to get you to cum, isn’t it? Or is that just for me? The driver you hate the most?” He laughs. “Get all wet for the guy you couldn’t care less about. Say you hate me and get my dick nice and wet the next day.” You’re grinding onto his three fingers now, shameless with it.

“Are you gonna cum?” He asks.

“Oh,” you whine. “Yeah, fuck—yes.”

“Tell me what you’re gonna do,” he says wickedly. You can hear him smile.

“I’m gonna—please—I’m gonna cum,” you pant, tension coming to a halt and then bursting all at once out of you. His other arm holds your hips down against him, and you spend a minute and another twitching, your skin sticky with sweat and slick.

It’s not long before you’re whirled back to face him, your hands making quick work of his jeans. It’s a skill you’ve both mastered, the art of the quickie—in closets, hotel rooms, with sweaty, open-mouthed kisses pressed along the column of your throat, moans swallowed. 

He hikes your dress up and your panties to the side, immediately bullies his cock into you—the glide is slow, but easy. You’re so fucking wet.

“Fucking big,” you gasp out. “Jesus, Jesus—fuck.” Your head drops and presses against his; he uses the opportunity to kiss you. You moan into it, feeling the stretch, your slick wetness dragging down the length of him as he thrusts up, up, further. “Been a while.”

“Feel good, though, yeah?” Your toes curl and you nod; you’re flushed all over and you need him to hurry up. You grind downward, onto him. He does, then, fucks you hard and fast, like he’s thirsted for this for way longer than he did. You’re squirming, all wet, and it tempts him to go harder. Your face is shiny with sweat, lips drawn in between your teeth.

“Slo—slow down,” you manage, babbling; he doesn’t, speeding up his thrusts until you’re moaning his name. “Max—wait—fuck, you’re so mean,” you whine, wrapping your arms around him and letting him take control. 

“You’re fine,” he grunts, pulling out almost all the way. “You take my dick so well, schatz, every fucking time. Don’t you?”

“I do,” you gasp out, and he’s slamming into you gain. You cry out loudly, sniffling from the overstimulation—you’d barely recovered from your initial orgasm and already you’re hurtling into what feels like three at the same time. 

“For someone who doesn’t like me,” he sneers, “you sure do moan like a slut, huh?”

His words get you more turned on than you’re willing to admit, but you shake your head.

“No?” He laughs, breathy from the effort. “Maybe I should film you now. Send it to your boss, let him see his stellar reporter’s getting Verstappen’s dick wet.” 

Finally, the tension building inside of you reaches a head, and your pussy starts to twitch around his dick. He notices, grunts sharply and leans forward, shuddering as he releases into you. Your moans are choked and tapering into whimpers as you release slick all over him, and you attempt to catch your breath, collapsing onto his still-clothed, now-sticky chest. You scratch at the dri-fit material and inhale him, the smell of his cologne, his sweat. You bite at his earlobe, laugh when he flinches.

“That,” you say into his skin, “was the last time.” It’s both seriously and as a joke, playing off of what he’d remarked earlier.

“Jesus, princess. I’m still inside you.” 

You giggle and drum lightly along the plane of his chest. In a few minutes he’ll pick you up to shower, but now you’re content to inhale him in. Quietly you wonder why you just can’t get enough of him—if you were in better senses, you’d have realized he was thinking the same thing about you.

[sinofwriting]

Every Kiss Begins With Tabs - Max Verstappen

Words: 1,544 Summary: Max and her have a tradition that was born from their first kiss. Note(s): The idea for this fic popped into my head one night, didn’t know what driver to do with it, and then quickly realized Max is the only option with him driving for a literal energy drink company. Also, this features Max and Charles being best friends, because your honor, I love them. (and features a bit of Ferrari bashing, because of course)

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At the end of their first date, Max had watched as she shyly reached into her purse, fishing for something, before pressing a small thing into his hand and instinctively he held it. He didn’t even get a second to figure out what it was, since she kissed him as soon as it was pressed into his hand. It was small, barely a second, just a peck. But it had made him flush, staring at her with wide eyes before he murmured a quiet again.

Her bottom lip had found its way between her teeth for a second, before she nodded at his hand, the one she had pressed something into. For the kiss. He remembers her mumble, making her all the more cute to him, how she was shy yet bold in the same breath.

It had been near painful to look away from her, but he forced his eyes down as he uncurled his hand and saw a generic soda tab sitting in his palm. Her words rang in his ears and memories of watching girls in school give them to boys run through his head and he’s pressing their hands together, keeping it between their palms as he kisses her.

—

Max’s eyebrows are furrowed in concentration as he messes with the tab on his can of Red Bull. The sound of the press and his fellow drivers' voices washing over him. When it easily tears off, he pockets it, just as he’s asked a question.

“Over these last few months, you’ve been a lot happier. Many people thought it was you winning races making you so happy, but with Singapore happening, that has been disproven. Is there something other than winning that makes you so happy?” Max’s eyes darted over to his press officer, personal questions were on the no list for after races. She looks back at him with a raised eyebrow and he has to resist letting his brows press together. She clearly didn’t think this was personal and in nature he supposes it wasn’t, but it was leading. Raising the microphone to his lips, he speaks. “Well, I think I’d have a very boring, shit life if the only thing that made me happy was winning.” The reporter coughs, “Of course. But nothing new in your life?” “Not that I can think of.” There’s a frown on the reporter's face, but they don’t ask anything else, and the session is called to a close.

“I fucking hate reporters.” Max murmurs as he walks out the room. Charles snorts, hearing him and gently bumping their shoulders together. “I couldn’t tell.” “Haha. Was a good race for you today, though.” “I feel like I need a fucking bodyguard. I’ve been getting threats like crazy.” Max winces, having seen some for himself and also knowing from experience how bad they could get. “Ferrari hasn’t hired any for you?” He scoffs, “No, too much faith, I suppose.” “Stick close, come to Red Bull’s hotel with me, I’ve got an extra room and security.” “Ooh.” Charles teases, poking at his side as they exit the building. “Look at the golden boy with his security.” Max rolls his eyes, but feigns away as he reaches out again. “Are you coming or not?” He scoffs again. “Of course. I’m too pretty to be killed.” It’s Max’s turn to scoff, “You're something, alright.” he mutters.

Entering Red Bull’s garage with Charles would feel weird if it weren't for the fact that for nearly all of this season Bradley, Christian, Tom, GP, or himself had all been sneaking the Ferrari driver in. Max knows that Christian is hoping with them allowing Charles access to their garage and helping hide him away from Ferrari that he’ll join their team, and Max isn’t too proud to say that he’s started to wish that too.

“I’ve gotta get something from Christian first.” Max murmurs when Charles makes a confused hum when they don’t immediately go to his driver’s room. “Also, might want to text something to collect your stuff.” “Andrea will get it. I just need the hotel and room number so he can send some stuff over.” “Don’t want to sleep in Red Bull branded clothes?” Charles sniffs, sticking his chin in the air, perfectly making a haughty face. “Of course not. I have fashion sense.”

—

“You want room service or something delivered from somewhere?” Charles stares at him, “Mate.” Max grins at him before returning his gaze to his phone. “Had to ask. We do have Brazil next weekend after all.” “I want all the tacos in the world right now.” “Margaritas as well?” It’s silent for a second, “why not. Just one though.” Max rolls his eyes, typing out the number ten before hitting send.

“Food has been ordered.” “Thank god. I’m starving.” “Not going to offer to pay?” Max jokes, even though he’d refuse. “God no.” He scoffs before grinning at him. “Thank you, Max, honestly.” “It’s no problem.”

“When will the food get here?” Charles asks nearly thirty minutes later as Max unlocks the door. “Already here.” He tells him, opening the door up and stepping through.

Tossing his backpack to the armchair, he doesn’t see the confused look on Charles’ face or how it grows more confused when Max fishes something out of his pocket and holds it out, a grin on his face as he stands just beside the suite's sofa.

Charles nearly stumbles when a girl appears out of nowhere, words gathering on his tongue, only for them to die before they can form when she takes whatever it is out of Max’s hand and kisses him. He knows his mouth is open, jaw dropped, as he stares at the two.

“Hello.” Max murmurs, pulling away after pressing another kiss to her lips. Her head is tilted up a bit to look at him, nose scrunching a little as she smiles. “Hi. Well done on the race.” He grins and is unable to resist kissing her again before finally separating from her, only to wrap an arm around her and pull her into his side as he turns them both to face Charles. “Charles, this is Y/N, my girlfriend.” The other driver blinks at them for a few seconds before smiling. “Hello. It’s lovely to meet you.” He tells her, stepping forward to greet her with a hug, giving Max a thumbs up when she easily goes along with it. Max snorts at the thumbs up.

“Congrats on your race as well, Charles. Always nice to see you on the podium.” “Oh.” He can feel his cheeks turn a little pink at the compliment. “Well, it is always nice to be there, even if he is always taking the top spot.” She laughs and then she’s ushering them both to sit down at the small table nearly overflowing with food. “Oh my god.” Charles breaths, staring at it all. “It’s beautiful.” “I think you're just hungry, mate.” Max remarks and Charles notices how she passes whatever Max handed her before they kissed back to the driver before giving him a peck on the lips. “Of course, I’m hungry.” His eyes wander over all the food, all the tacos, and he knows that Andrea will be pissed at their next session when Charles tells him what he ate, but he knows he won’t regret it. Even when Andrea makes the session a triple.

“Can I ask a question?” Charles asks, after they are done eating. The twelve tacos he ate and two margaritas he had in combination with pleasant company made him feel content. “Is it a stupid one?” “Max.” She playfully scolds, but there’s a mischievous glint in her eyes. “Of course.” “What is with the thing? The small thing you pass back and forth.” “Oh,” her eyes are a little wide and she seems to have stiffened and it has Charles' eyes widened. “You do not have to answer. I was just curious. You can of course tell me to shut up.” “No, it’s okay.” She shares a look with Max. “It’s just a habit, I don’t even really think about it anymore.”

Charles watches as she carefully extends her hand and opens it so he can stare at the thing the couple has been exchanging. His eyebrows furrow when he sees it’s a tab to a Red Bull can.

“Before I kissed Max for the first time, I gave him a tab from a soda can. It’s become a tradition of sorts.” His face softens at the explanation, and this whole weekend he has missed Alex, but now more than ever he wishes that she was able to come with him. “That is very sweet.” His lips then curl into a smirk and he looks at Max. “Must make sex uncomfortable though.” “You mother,” Max cuts himself off as he hits Charles with a pillow, his fellow driver howling with laughter. Hitting him with a pillow again, Max looks at her to see her laughing as well, face bright with joy and his hand is ducking into his pocket pulling out a spare tab he always keeps on him, pressing it into her hand before kissing her, ignoring the fake sounds of throwing up from Charles as he does.

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[norrisreads]

you belong with me

plot : having oscar piastri as a neighbour and best friend was great, supporting him from the sidelines, everything was fine even when the feelings was just one sided…. or so was it?

pairing : oscar piastri x reader! lando norris x reader! platonic

warnings: slight angst, fluff! mainly inspired by you belong with me by taylor swift

growing up with oscar piastri as your neighbour had been a core memory, you would remember communicating with him through windows, yes windows.

the first time you moved in to his neighbourhood, you were just a girl who had moved from singapore to australia and had zero friends, you had to restart your whole life in another country

of course, your parents had opted to let you settle down for a few weeks before starting school, which led most of your days spying on your neighbour’s family and just casual people watching

the piastri family, just a normal family who had 3 little sisters and him, oscar piastri being the eldest in the family. you would notice him arriving home with his mum by his side in his karting suit, enraged sometimes, happy too.

it was a sight to see, your dad had allocated your study table right in front of your window and what a coincidence it was that just in-front of you was his room.

It was a shock of course to him when he noticed you flipping through your books (or so he thought), and the moment you had your head up to do some stretchings , the both of you had a few seconds eye contact and smiled.

you didn’t pay much attention because as much as your heart was jumping around, it was a tad bit awkward, but you notice a motion that he was scribbling on something, and a few minutes later a sketchbook was seen holding up by him

“just moved in?”

you nodded your head, you looked around and grab some empty pieces of paper and a black marker

he then wrote a few more sentences, “i’m oscar, what about you?”

“y/n, just moved here from singapore!” with that information he absorbed , he made an ‘o’- shaped mouth, and went back to scribbling a few more sentences

“any plans right now?” of course, you shook your head

“do you wanna grab dinner?” was written on oscar’s sketchbook, he then held up an ‘OK’ hand motion along with a thumbs up and thumbs down which then u gave him a thumbs up

and from that day on, you made your first friend who then became your best friend who then became your first love.

“let’s just go to at least one race, y/n! you’ve been there for me since formula 3, won’t seeing me race in formula 1 in real life make you happy?” his voice speak through your phone that was placed on your bed

you were currently cleaning up your room while being on-call with oscar, even-though the both of you were neighbours and he could technically come over and talk to you physically in your room, he was sadly grounded.

so there he was, sitting on the ledge of his window, being on call with you at the same time just watching you moving around your room.

“osc you’ll be traveling across the world, my dad’s gonna kill me if i’m skipping school, lily’s gonna be with you”

Lily zheimer is Oscar’s girlfriend, you had found out when Oscar had asked for your guidance to assist him in his prom-posals which you did so (stupidly), you had been there for Oscar when the both of them had fights, of course you were the one consoling him even-though you could hear bit by bit pieces of your heart breaking apart.

“it’ll be great if you will be there too, you’re my best friend after all” and yet again, just a best friend

dreaming about the day when you wake up and find that

you’re looking for has been here the whole time

“lily’s gonna be fuming if i’m there, you know the both of us don’t get along, let’s not do that Osc”

as much as you were kind to lily, she had been against of Oscar’s friendship with you since day one, oscar would missed out on the days where the both of you had planned to hang out and every-time you smiled to lily it wasn’t reciprocated back instead she would give you an eye roll.

you never understood why lily hated you, or disliked? you gave space to oscar whenever he’s out with lily and you’re not that type of girl best-friend who’s all up in Oscar’s business. Oscar had assured you multiple times that lily would get over it (which she didn’t and it’s been years).

lily zheimer was the stereotypical popular girl in your school, meanwhile you were just an average student who had few friends because to be fair you’d rather have an average life rather than being popular.

except she wasn’t the typical popular girl who’s a cheerleader, she was the smartest in your school, you did admire her, she’s a beauty with brain. were you ever jealous of her beauty? of course, but what you were jealous the most was the way oscar looked at her.

The way Oscar looked at her was as if he could see his whole future planned out with her, and THAT was the way you looked at Oscar, and this is of course a typical best-friend unrequited love.

“my parents will be following y/n, you can tag along with them, just one race please” you stopped in your tracks and looked up at him, he was literally pleading with his hands together begging you

“fine, i’ll go to one race osc”

you could hear oscar shouted “YES” and a moment later you heard your phone notification went off and it was Oscar’s mum

“so glad that you’re coming along, y/n! girl’s day for us 🥰” to which you laughed and let oscar know

“your mum just texted me osc, that was fast”

“yeah she loves you y/n, i have enough sisters already but she already is claiming you to be her daughter. At this point even my sisters prefers your existence more than me” to which he flipped you off and rolled his eyes jokingly

“fuck you osc, i’ll take back whatever i said about attending” and there it was the beeping of an ending call

and the next moment you heard him shout across the window, “don’t even think about it, I’m grounded right now, I’ll literally stormed to your front door in 2 days if you decides to back out” and closed his windows

it’s the day of the australian grand prix, you were granted the 3 days paddock pass by mclaren as oscar’s guests.

osc and lily had of course arrived the paddock together, meanwhile you arrived with oscar parents.

few fans had recognised you as oscar’s best friend, and you being nice had small talks with them, it was the first time you could see the amount of fans oscar had and you felt so proud of him, of the journey you had seen him grew up with.

you were just walking around the paddock, this wasn’t the first time you were in the paddock but it was the first time you were in a formula one grand prix.

you spotted oscar’s team mate lando norris scooting around the paddock and remembered the first time oscar told you about him. He was exactly how oscar described him.

curls, a smiley person, and of course sarcastic.

you noticed lando was heading towards your direction and stopped exactly infront of you, “you must be oscar’s girlfriend right?”

you had a confused face on and laughed, “no that’s lily, i’m his best friend”

“oh, my bad. I’m sure you know about me from oscar?” he held his hands out, and you shook his hands

“yeah, lando right? i’m y/n”

“are you searching for him?” Lando asked you noticing you were walking around the paddock without him

you shook your head “i’m just familiarising myself, was a-bit bored. Oscar’s a-bit busy right now”

“well then i’ll be your guide for the day, y/n” this time lando walked the same pace as you, completely abandoning his scooter by the side of the hospitality.

By the end of the day, you were well contented with Lando’s presence with you, he had introduced you to a few of his friends and some of the grid drivers. Oscar had warned you about lando’s past, stereotypically his flirty personality.

You had seen his flirty traits but you couldn’t care less, instead lando seems like a long-lost friend you’ve never met.

���thanks lando for giving me a great tour of the paddock, i shall do the same to you whenever you’re in singapore! i know some great places that you’d take pictures with your leica!” the both of you were sat in the hospitality with an ice cream in both of your hands.

“well that’s a promise then, oscar’s probably done right now, i guess it’s my turn, i’ll see you around?”

you smiled and nodded your head, “i’ll be around, can’t get rid of me that easily”

landonorris started following you

lafilledhiver_ just posted

liked by landonorris oscarpiastri maxfewtrell and others

lafilledhiver_ my week in pictures + aus gp 🧡

oscarpiastri shouldn’t it be my garage instead

↳ lafilledhiver_ you’ve been replaced 🫱🏻‍🫲🏼

↳ landonorris she’s my best friend now piastri

oscpi81 why did i not know y/n went to aus grand prix 😭

↳ lnaurris if udm answering who is she?

↳ oscpi81 she’s oscar’s best-friend! she used to attend f2 races q frequently!

papayaboys does she not follow lily?

↳ russell44 maybe there’s beef 😐

↳ pastry81 she’s not required to follow her bestie’s gf ig 😂

mclaren our favourite guest is back

liked by lafilledhiver_

“you’re getting cozy with lando, y/n” lily’s voice caught your attention

“he’s a great friend, plus he takes great care of osc” answering to her remarks and getting back your attention to your phone

“i wouldn’t do that if i were you, would not want to tame osc reputation or image” lily shrugged her shoulder

you sighed, you knew when oscar left you with lily, this conversation is bound to happen

“lily, i don’t have an idea on why you’re so against of osc and i’s friendship, you’re the one who has osc head over heels for you. if I were you, I would have just choose to mind my own business, but clearly you can’t seem to do that?”

packing your things up, within the timespan u were packing oscar came to the both of you

“hey i was about to ask, let’s grab dinner together” until he saw you packing ur items in a rushed state

“sorry oscar, another day, i’m not really feeling well” giving him a soft smile and hugging him, bidding him a goodbye

it’s true, you’ve been coughing the whole day and your body has been feeling rather heaty

oscar sighed and faced lily, “what did you say to her this time?”

while walking your way to the hotel, your phone ringed multiple times, and with the distinguished ringtone you knew it was oscar

“finally you’ve answered, lily told me what happened! Look i am sorry alright, i’ve already told lily to be mindful of her words, now can you please follow us to dinner? mom wants you there”

stopping in your tracks, you can’t help but to feel that oscar had never once considered about how you felt about the situation between him and lily

“osc, i’m tired. Have you ever considered talking to me about how i felt about this too? Let me have a break tonight, I’m unwell”

Oscar could been heard walking himself out of the noisy room he was in, and sighed , “i’m coming in few minutes, we’ll talk this out”

“oscar that’s not what i meant” with that he ended the call

you’re pacing around your room, mind clouding with all the possible outcome and the fallout between you and oscar.

the both of you were inseparable since young and to think that a situation like this would actually be a reason of a fallout, aches you.

then you heard a knock, specifically four knocks. Four knocks was oscar way of telling you he’s here whenever he’s over at your house.

you walked towards the door half expecting lily and him at the door, amazed that it was just him this time.

he welcomed himself in and sat on the hotel sofa that was provided in your room, “we’re gonna solve this today, no one is leaving”

this is gonna be a long day.

sighing, you made your way to the empty spot next to him

“there’s nothing to talk about oscar, i was just feeling unwell to attend the dinner. nothing serious, see?” shoving him your proof of the thermometer that you’d just used a few minutes ago

“i’m sorry about lily, i know she doesn’t like you but i’m fixing this okay y/n. I really do want the both of you to get along well!”

sometimes, fixing is never a solution, especially when it comes to these scenarios

“Oscar, don’t waste your time fixing this. she’ll never like me, you’ll have to understand that”

oscar seems confuse with the sentence that had came out of your mouth, “ what do you mean, never.. y/n?”

“oscar, i like you. I’ve been liking you ever-since I’ve gotten to know you. You’re not required to like me back, so don’t bother, but i know lily knows this, that’s probably why she’s protective of you oscar”

the information that was said out by you made oscar shocked and still. This was how he had always reacted to news, be it great or bad news.

“i was probably crazy when i agreed on helping you with your promposal to lily, but you were happy osc. The other times you were so happy was when you won during your races, and i would do anything to just see you, my best friend be happy. I was dumb, i probably thought it was going to get away, i mean that’s what y/bff/n says. Just a small crush, but it’s been years and it’s still the same.”

this time you had to pause whatever you’re saying because you felt tears brimming in the corner of your eyes.

can’t you see that i’m the one who understands you

been here all along, so why can’t you see?

“you made me happy oscar, and i’m happy we’ve met. Things will be awkward afterwards but i’m always here, osc. Lily’s great, she makes you feel happy, and i like that for her. She makes you feel like there is something to actually look forward to every single day, and i wish i had that in me.”

Oscar shifted his sit towards you, and glanced at you, “ i have no idea, y/n..”

well yeah, no shit. he was crazy for lily, of course he had no idea.

“that’s fine osc-“ before completing your sentence, oscar had cut you off

“ i liked you, i did, but when lily came it made me feel different. I never knew you liked me, y/n. This could be us, y/n. I don’t know what to say, i treasure this friendship, you were there for me for all of my races, i liked what we had, y/n.”

and there it was the sentence that you knew you’ll hear someday, being friend zoned.

you stood up, “oscar, let’s just forget this ever happened okay? you can just leave, we’ll see each other per normal, like we had before this conversation”

dragging oscar by you, you led him out of your hotel room, and before oscar could have a say, you slammed the door right by his face.

—

sitting by the side of your bed, looking out to the sky with y/bff/n on the phone, has never been better, especially when you’re finally homed alone.

“it’s crazy how he ignored whatever you said, and declared his love for lily just like that. After all, you’ve been there from the start”

sobbing silently, you couldn’t help but reminiscing the moments when you’ll wake up early in the morning to help out with oscar’s moment to prepare breakfast to bring along to his karting races.

“to be fair, lily’s gorgeous. He always had a huge crush on her. Maybe one day, i too will have someone that’s willing to have that love for me”

your best friend scoffed, “who are you kidding, you’re fucking beautiful. If anyone’s blind, it’s oscar. Who was the one who had a filled to the brim locker of valentines chocolate, surely not lily but you! he’ll regret his choices, y/n”

just remembering the times when you and your best friend had to literally give away chocolate to a bunch of kids made you giggled

—

the following weeks after the incident, things had been silent between the both of you.

it had became a controversial topic for your siblings and your parents to even bring up oscar’s name, and this goes the same to oscar too from what you’ve gotten an update from his sister, who you were still very much close too.

apparently word of mouth has gotten to the public too, especially after you’ve removed oscar and a few other followers from your Instagram in an order to stay more lowkey.

—

i’ll do a part 2 soon, promise! i am finally back from the dead :)! hope yall like this! next part will be an inspired story from ariana’s new song! (we can’t be friends)!!

[pucksandpower]

Hi hi. How your taking care of yourself. I just want to ask on the grid kids series is it possible that we can see an interaction between baby Vettel and Carlos. Where Seb and his wife went to today's race (Singapore GP) to support their grid kids and after Carlos wins, baby Vettel calls Carlos smooth operator. You don't have to write it if u don't want to but I love your content ❤️

Grid Kids: Mooth Opawata

Sebastian Vettel x wife!Reader x platonic!drivers

Summary: the Mooth Opawata gains a new fan after his win and the grid kids are reminded that their sister will always be their biggest supporter

Series Masterlist

Carlos, drenched in champagne and glowing with the thrill of victory, scoops your daughter up into his arms as he steps down from the podium. The little girl giggles, her tiny hands reaching for the sparkling trophy he’s holding.

“Look at you! Celebrating with the winner,” Carlos chuckles, pressing a gentle kiss to her forehead.

Sebastian laughs, “Well, looks like you’ve got yourself a new little fan.”

“I think she just likes the shiny trophy,” you tease.

Carlos pretends to think it over, “Hmm, maybe, but I think it’s my charming personality. Or maybe it’s the hair.”

Your daughter claps her hands, “Shiny! Mooth Opawata!” She points at Carlos, trying her best to mimic the song Lando constantly plays for her.

Carlos’ eyes widen in amusement, a big grin spreading across his face. “Did she just ...”

Lando, joining the group with his own second place trophy, can’t contain his smile. “I might have played the song for her a few times ... or maybe a few dozen.”

Sebastian shakes his head with a laugh at the antics of your grid kid, “No wonder she’s been trying to sing it all week.”

Carlos tickles her sides, making her giggle uncontrollably. “So I’m the Mooth Opawata now?”

She nods vigorously, tiny fists clenching the fabric of his race suit. “Mooth Opawata!” She declares again, much to the amusement of everyone around.

“I think,” Charles chimes in with a boop to her nose, “that someone is trying to steal your nickname, Carlos.”

Carlos squishes your daughter’s chubby cheeks, drawing another laugh from her, “There’s plenty of room for two Smooth Operators in the paddock when the second one is so cute.”

You heart melts watching them interact. “She’s just staking her claim ahead of time. Future Ferrari driver right here.”

Carlos winks, “With her genes? I have no doubt. But for now, she’s my lucky charm.” He gently sets her down, watching as she toddles over to Lando and grabs his hand.

Lando bends down, “Did you have fun watching the race, kiddo?”

She nods enthusiastically, pointing back at Carlos, “Mooth Opawata win!”

Sebastian chuckles as the rest of the grid kids quickly make their way over to take turns holding their sister, “You guys are going to spoil her.”

“She might as well get used to all the attention,” Carlos shrugs with a mischievous smile. “I have a feeling she’ll be up here in red one day too.”

***

As the group approaches Lance’s hotel room later that night, Lando knocks softly. “Mate, you in there? We brought a cheering squad.”

The door slowly creaks open to reveal a forlorn-looking Lance, sporting a slight bruise on his cheek. “Hey, guys.”

Your daughter breaks free from Sebastian’s hold and toddles straight to Lance, tugging on his hoodie. “Up! Up!” She demands.

Lance can’t help but laugh as he picks her up, her innocent joy slightly lifting his spirits. “Hi there, little one.”

She pats his cheek gently. “Boo-boo?” She asks with a concerned frown.

Lance smiles sadly, “Yeah, a bit of a boo-boo.”

She plants a tiny kiss on his cheek. “Better?”

Lance’s eyes soften, “Much better, thank you.”

Charles nudges Lance lightly. “See? Who needs physiotherapy when you’ve got magic little sister kisses?”

Lance laughs, “True that.”

Lance, now slightly more animated, takes a second glance at Charles, noting the distant expression he was trying to hide. “Hey, Leclerc, that face isn’t fooling any of us. Don’t bottle it up.”

Charles sighs, leaning against the wall. “It’s just … it was a frustrating race.”

Your daughter, sensing another brother in distress, makes her way over to him, her little arms reaching up. “Hug?”

Charles can’t resist her charm. He bends down, allowing her to wrap her little arms around his neck. “You think that’ll make the sad race go away?” He teases.

She nods seriously, pulling back slightly and placing her hands on either side of his face. “Smile, Char-Char.”

The mood lightens further when George joins you, although the disappointment in his eyes from how his race ended is still evident.

Mick steps forward, placing a mini helmet in your daughter’s hands. “Alright, remember our plan?”

She nods vigorously, clumsily walking over to George and offering him the helmet. “For you!”

George’s smile turns real as he recognizes the mini version of his own racing helmet. “For me? That’s so sweet of you!” He looks up at Mick, “Did you put her up to this?”

Mick grins, “Might’ve given her a tiny nudge.”

Sebastian joins in, “You know, George, there’s always another race. And you’ve got all of us cheering for you. And she,” he points to your daughter, “is your biggest fan yet.”

“I wuv you all!” She exclaims, spreading her tiny arms wide. The room instantly melts, each driver touched by the pure sentiment.

You wrap an arm around both Lance and George, motioning for Charles to join the hug with a nod of your head, which quickly leads to all of the grid kids huddling around you. “Bad days happen. But family’s here to make sure they don’t last.”

Lando chimes in, “And to ensure you have plenty of snacks. Chocolate, anyone?”

Max raises an eyebrow, “You brought chocolate?”

Lando winks, “I always come prepared.”

Your daughter claps her hands in excitement. “Choco!”

[pedantic-poison]

Charles jealous and possessive please, as much as you can imagine 🔥

belong to you | CL16

warnings: smut, 18+ MINORS DNI, language, choking, spanking, edging, unprotected p in v (mentioned)

word count: .6k

You really hadn't meant anything by it.

Well, you sort of had. But Singapore was only Carlos' second win, and Charles had seemed fine going out with the rest of the team to celebrate him.

And yeah, you'd been laying it on a little thick with Carlos, but you'd really just congratulated him a few times. More than a few times, to be honest. And you might've squeezed his biceps a few of those times, or leaned in close to speak into his ear. Maybe danced near him, just a bit.

And suddenly, Charles' large hands were on your waist, yanking you away from the crowd, from Carlos, and dragging you into a dark corner of the club.

"You really think you can spend the whole night teasing me like that and get away with it?" he growled into your ear as your back hit the wall.

One hand landed on your throat, squeezing lightly, as the other held you in place for him to grind against. The bulge in his pants drew a whimper out of you, which had him grinning against your skin as he trailed harsh kisses along your neck.

He slotted a thigh in between yours, pushing it up against you as you ground down onto it immediately, whimpering louder.

"Already needy for me, ma cherie?"

Before you could get out a snarky response, he bit down onto the sensitive skin of your neck, causing you to gasp harshly as he applied more pressure to your throat.

"Just for me. Only for me. All mine." His lips found yours, tongue invading your mouth quickly, dominating your own, and then he was nipping harshly at your bottom lip and pulling away.

His hands were sliding up your dress, finding the hem of your panties, tracing your slit through the fabric, growling when he found them already damp.

"This had better be for me, cherie."

The darkness in his eyes should've made you let up, but it only made you want to taunt him harder.

"And if it's not?"

The hand on your throat tightened to an almost painful degree, "Then when we get home, I'm going to remind you exactly who you belong to."

* * *

You whined out of frustration as Charles denied you an orgasm for the fifth time that night, pulling his fingers out of you. "No, no, Charles, please, please, please let me come, ple-"

A harsh smack on your bare ass silenced you, bottom lip quivering as tears streamed down your face, from frustration, from desperation, from overstimulation, you weren't really sure anymore. You could barely hold yourself up, straddling Charles' lap so he could reach your ass to punish you if you got too demanding, facing him so he could watch you cry and fall apart in his arms.

"If you wanted to finish, then you should've thought about that before you tried to tease me, mon amour. Since you decided to act like a little slut, I need to make sure you remember who you belong to."

"Y-you! Belong to you, Charles, please," you whimpered out, voice weak from how needy he'd made you.

"Please what, hm?"

"Please fuck me, please, I need you."

Charles hummed, pretending to consider it, "You need me?"

You nodded eagerly, desperately.

"Strange. Earlier tonight, it seemed like you wanted Carlos to fuck you. After all, he's the one you were throwing yourself at."

You shook your head vehemently, "No, Charles, just want you, only ever want you."

"And why do you only ever want me, cherie?"

"B-because I belong to you," you sobbed out, body wracked with exhaustion and yet still completely on edge for him.

He nodded sternly, "That's right, mon amour." His strong hands skimmed across the red skin of your ass, firmly gripping it to lift you up and over his cock.

"Gonna fill you up so you can never forget that you're mine."

[baby-dr1ver]

kinktober <3

overstimulation

max x reader

warnings: smut, as slapping, kinda mean!max, eating out, fingering

Singapore. A fucking disaster. An absolute shit show. 

No one even had the balls to go near the garage knowing that Max was fuming. You side eyed Christian and the egineers as you passed by, knowing it wasn’t truly their fault but, knowing they did nothing to help. You passed Checo and gave him a sympathy pat as he pointed down the hall to Max’s driver room. 

You gently knocked on the door, “Max? Baby? Can I come in?” He grunted and you took it as a yes. You pushed open the door and saw Max sitting their, back to the door and his head down. You could see how tense he was, he held onto all the disappointment knowing his dad had already ripped into him over the phone. 

You softly landed your hand on his back, sitting beside him. “So, that was a shit show.” He let out a startling laugh, “Always know the right thing to say-yeah a fucking shit show.” 

You scratched up his back, massaging the back of his neck. “Well, let’s get back to the hotel so I can make it better.” His head shot up at that, eyes dialated, mouth parted. You giggled and stood up, holding out your hand. He took it and immediately pulled you into a kiss. “I’m gonna ruin you.” He whispered against your lips. 

The ride back to the hotel was hell. Between Max’s wandering hands and every bump in the road, you felt as if you were going to pop. Max knew this, he knew watching you shift foot to foot in the elevator, and even when they approached their room. 

He pushed open the door and nudged you. He slammed the door and in came the demands. “Clothes off, hands and knees. Go. I won’t ask twice.” He didn’t leave room to argue. 

You stripped yourself of your bottoms and shirt, leaving you in a bra and underwear. Max was halfway out of his jacket when he stopped. “I think clothes off means everything sweet girl, are you already to dumb to understand instructions?” You quickly shook your head no and pulled the rest off. You got on your hands and knees on the middle of the bed. You could feel Max’s loomy presence behind you as he left delicate kisses down your back. 

Everything was calm, but he decided to change that with a harsh smack to your ass. You gasped and pulled yourself forward, away from the attack. “Don’t run darling, everythings fine.” As reassuring as he was, you knew there was more to come. 

No words needed to be spoken as he bit your ass and let a trail of spit down to your already sopping wet center. Max pulled your ass apart to open you up, salivating at how you looked.

Back bowed, pussy front and center, dripping wet and ready for the taking. He plunges his fingers in with no warning, letting his thumb control the pleasure on your clit. 

“Max, fuck please slow down I’m gonna-” You let out a small scream as the abuse on your clit never stopped, pushing you to your first orgasm of the night. Except, he didn’t let up. His fingers kept going as he used his other hand to free him of his shirt and unbuckle his pants to relieve the pressure on his growing bulge. He smacked your ass again before flipping you over and kissing you the second time that night. Just as he added another finger, his lips found your nipple and began sucking harshly. You yelped and pushed your chest in his face. 

“Christ love, you’re so fucking wet. Who did this to you?” He smirked and pulled away from your chest, increasing the speed of his fingers. All you could let out was small ‘uh uh’s’ and he didn’t like that. Max slapped your boob and forced you to look at him. “Who did this to you?” 

“You! You Max, only you!” Your body convusled as another orgasm came over you. 

This went on for awhile, he switched between eating you out and only using his fingers. You begged him to slow down-stop, give you a break, anything. 

He pulled from your pussy for a breather. “Why would I do that baby? I haven’t even gotten my cock in you yet”

[stevieschrodinger]

TW for Eddie getting hurt (but he's okay). And Human Trafficking.

Link to part Two

Steve leans against Carol's desk, "here are your messages, I fobbed off the Times interview - they're going to email you their questions instead." He's listening to Carol, but he's watching, frowning.

There's a man in his office.

"Lunch call with the Singapore office is on. Your suite for the gala is back from the dry cleaners, it's in your bathroom."

"Right, the gala," Steve answers absently. It's a corner office, lots of glass, so it's impossible to miss the man in his office. The man who is calmly, right now, looking at the framed photo Steve has of his parents. It's basically a prop, Steve never got on with them, but that is not the point. Some random guy is touching Steve's shit.

"And my nine thirty?"

"Had to move it, don't worry, they were fine about it."

"Right," Carol's leaning over the desk now, watching the man right along with Steve, "I assume that's why you had to cancel my nine thirty."

"Uh hu," she's tapping her nails on the top of the desk, and she's so fucking infuriating, if she wasn't so fucking good at her job Steve would have booted her years ago.

"You're going to make me ask aren't you??

Carol gives him a massive shit eating grin, "ask what, sir?"

"Jesus fucking christ," Steve sighs, "who is that in my office."

"Not sure," Carol shrugs, grinning because she's pleased she's being such a dick, "security brought him up," she leans over the desk, whispering like she's imparting a secret, "pretty sure they said something that sounded like FBI."

And then she sits down, tapping at her computer and painting her nails or doing whatever it is she does all day. Harassing mail boys, probably. God she's like a fucking shark, but that what Steve gets, he wanted a competent secretary, what he got was a fucking guard dog.

Steve's not complaining. He'd been weary of hiring a female Alpha and then shoving her behind a desk, but it turns out Carol is terrifyingly efficient and fucking fearless, so it's kind of a win win.

Steve stares at the man in his office for a second longer, trying to figure out what the fuck he's done. he wonders if he's somehow accidentally committed major tax fraud, or something. He's pretty sure he hasn't, but the panic spiral is sitting there, looking inviting, anyway.

Steve goes into his office, and the man turns. He's tall, well built, kind of portly with age, maybe, but Steve still wouldn't fuck with the guy. He's not wearing blockers of any sort, so Steve's office now smells of strange, uninvited, Alpha. Great.

"Jim Hopper," he says, extending his hand, "FBI."

"Steve Harrington," Steve replies, even though he's certain it's pointless, this guy knows exactly who he is.

The guy is already producing paperwork as Steve takes his seat on the other side of his desk, "standard non disclosure, Mr. Harrington."

Steve gives it a once over, he's signed enough of these, and been involved with the legal team enough, that he feels confident enough. He signs it, knowing he won't get any answers until he does.

"I'll get right to it, time is tight. I've been working to dismantle an Omega trade ring for nearly eighteen months now. We're almost ready to move, teams are in place, inks drying on the warrants, cells are all picked out."

Steve nods, okay. He knew Omega trade was a thing, a barbaric, highly illegal thing. Human trafficking of the worst form, he gestures for Hopper to continue.

"If we go in now, we will likely get a few of the higher ups, we'll rescue approximately two dozen Omega, it'll be a success." Steve goes to speak, wondering what the fuck this has to do with him, Hopper waves him down, "we've been here before; I've made this mistake once before. If we don't get the people at the top, this thing will grow back in a years time. I want them all."

Steve gets that. His head is spinning a little. He knows things like this go on, you see about it on the news, but it does sound a bit...like a spy movie.

Hopper puts a photograph on Steve's desk, "you know this man?"

And Steve does. They're not what Steve would call friends; more of a good tempered rivalry. And yeah, Steve had Daddy's money, but Tommy had his Daddy's company. They came up at the same time, went after the same deals. Move in the same circles, Steve's known him for years. Steve's disliked him for years, "you're not suggesting Tommy Hagan is...the head of some sort of, human slavery outfit?" Knowing how ruthless Tommy can be, how questionable his methods are...Steve's still struggling to see him as...this.

"I'm not suggesting it. I'm telling you as fact. You've known him a long time, and we have to move fast. The charity gala tonight, you'll both be there."

"Right, sure, but I don't exactly see what I can do about this."

"Hagan moves the...high end product. Very exclusive, very expensive. They keep them at a ranch, just out of state," and that's kind of uncomfortable, because Steve's been to the ranch for a business lunch, so he knows exactly the place Hopper is talking about. And, jesus, Steve had thought at the time Tommy had a lot of Omega staff. A lot of really well behaved Omega staff - at the time, Steve thought Tommy was just being his usual dick self. Just showing off wealth. Fuck, if some of those Omega were actually, like, prisoners- "drop a hint to Hagan, tonight. Tell him you're getting itchy, fancy yourself an Omega. A traditional one, timid. Say whatever you need to say, get yourself an invite out there."

Steve takes a deep breath, nodding. He can do that. He can play that; he might have to wear blockers, his opinion of Tommy is in the gutter on a good day, never-mind this.

"That's all you need?"

Hopper shifts forward in his chair, "look, you're ideal. On the periphery, you've known each other a long time, but not well. He knows exactly the kind of clout you have, your bank balance, you're the perfect person to do this."

It's not hard to find information on Steve Harrington, he's thirty first on the Forbes 100 list, but clearly Hopper, at the very least, has taken notice.

"How do you know I'm not already involved?"

Hopper snorts, "kid. We know. Also, you just asked me that question, and your balls ain't that brassy."

Steve can't deny it, he shrugs, "so, what else?"

"Get an invite. Go there wearing a wire. Meet Tommy, pick an Omega. You'll be trusted; we will fit a listening device. Hagan's wriggled out of this sort of thing before; evidence like that, there'll be no court in the country that won't convict him."

Steve feels awkward. He knows there's a device on him somewhere; Hopper had taken his phone for ten minutes, and brought it back with a different suit jacket for him to wear.

That had been at half five this morning, standing on Steve's back porch. And as he pulls into the ranch, he has the air con on full blast because fucking hell, he's sweaty when he's nervous.

Hopper had made this sound easy; the ranch is pretty safe. Only a couple of armed guards. Plus, he's Steve Harrington; you can't just disappear a guy like Steve.

Hopper had sounded so certain, the cherry of his cigarette bright in the pre dawn mist. He'd even slapped Steve's shoulder, told him he was saving lives. Steve had felt like a fucking super hero for about twenty minutes, until reality and fucking nerves had swamped him.

But here he is, walking up the front steps to the ranch house, Tommy Hagan grinning big, "hope you brought the black card," Tommy jokes as they bro hug.

Because that's not creepy.

Tommy had given Steve a smirk at the Gala last night, was confident he had exactly what Steve was looking for. Knew, for the right price, exactly what would scratch Steve's itch. Not like he was talking about real fucking human beings or anything.

Steve's real glad he went thick on the blockers; he's certain Tommy would be choking on the scent of his disgust by now.

They bring them in during lunch. Steve sitting, eating fucking cornbread and home made slaw and he just can't. He nibbles, feeling sick with nerves. Tommy doesn't even seem to notice. Steve can't help but stare at him, someone he's known most of his life and now...he's been revealed as something vile and subhuman. Steve has to work hard to keep the disgust off his face.

Something that gets even more difficult when the Omega are brought it and lined up, all wearing the same diaphanous nightdresses regardless of gender. Every single one of them could be a contender for the most beautiful thing Steve's ever seen. Every single one of them could be a model, or something.

They're lined up in height order; the last one in, the tallest, a male Omega. He's limping.

He's leaving bloody footprints on the fancy parquet flooring.

Tommy must catch Steve's face, "the unruly ones need to be disciplined, and that one is more...difficult than most. Refuses to learn. And we don't want to damage the product anywhere that'll be visible, obviously."

Steve has to breathe through his nose so he doesn't throw up. All the Omega are wearing blockers; probably because the scent of Omega distress would be so off putting.

Tommy waves a hand, "get him out of here, he's bleeding on the rug," and the Omega winces, as he turns. he's got lots of shiny dark curls. Everything about all the Omega is pristine, perfectly maintained hair, nails, flawless skin. The smear of blood on his ankle is even more stark for it, and Steve can't help but stare as the Omega gamely takes what looks like a very painful, shuffling step away again.

"Him," Steve says before he can stop himself, "I want him."

The Omega turns back, looking at Steve with huge, beautiful brown eyes. He's hopeful and fearful all at once, and it tears Steve up inside. He wants to buy all of them, get all of them out of here, but knows he can't. If he does anything to raise suspicion he could fuck the whole thing.

At least he has Hopper's word that the rest of them will be out of here by the end of today.

Tommy scoffs, "Steve, come on, have a proper look. Don't pick that one. Get a pretty one."

Steve wants to swear at Tommy because they're all fucking pretty, ridiculously so, "no, he'll do."

"Oh," Tommy laughs, "I get it, just gonna' wreck him anyway, right? That's fair, can always get another," and he's laughing again and suddenly Steve is dragged into a very detailed conversation about how to move funds - from where and to where, which Steve does. It's an amount of money that under any other circumstances would make Steve's eyes water - but in the face of a human being in pain, Steve doesn't even blink.

It doesn't feel like Steve takes a breath until he's on the interstate, the Omega curled up on the seat next to him. No possessions, no clothes, no bag.

Nothing.

And that had gutted Steve as much as anything else.

"Look, uh, hey, you have a name?"

"Eddie," the Omega answers quietly.

"Right. Eddie. So. This is...well it's going to sound a bit wild but...I'm kind of here for the FBI. I mean. I don't work for them, or anything, but...I was...asked, I guess, to get evidence. So don't worry about everyone else, they're getting rescued later so. That's. A thing, I guess?"

Eddie's just blinking at him.

"Yea. Yeah, I guess that's a lot to take in. But we can talk about it...later? Do you have family? Like, shit, do you have somewhere to go? I'm pretty sure I wasn't supposed to actually like...buy, a person. Couldn't leave you there though."

"I've...I've got an uncle. Haven't seen him for years. I don't...know."

"Right, right okay. We can talk to Hopper about it," Steve spots a drive through, "you hungry?"

Eddie turns and sees the McDonald's, "oh fuck me yes," he breathes with such vehemence that Steve laughs, "I haven't left the ranch for two years, and they never let us eat anything like that, it's bad for our skin. Plus, we have to stay thin and pretty."

That kills Steve's laughter stone dead.

Hopper rubs at his forehead, "you were not supposed to buy a human being."

"I know but-" Steve turns, Eddie standing behind him, which on it's own makes Steve wince. Eddie's barefoot on the asphalt, half hidden behind Steve, still wearing nothing but that scrap of white fabric. It's now a little smeared with the fry grease Eddie had shamelessly wiped off his fingers. Steve hands over his phone and the suite jacket.

Hopper waves him off, "you did good."

Hopper does something to the back of Steve's phone, peeling something away from it, before giving it back, "somewhere I can take you kid? Any family?"

"I only have an uncle, but I don't...it's been years, I haven't seen him since I was little."

Hopper rubs is hand over his face, the rasp of stubble loud, before he lights another cigarette, "I'll have to find you a motel somewhere while we figure this out."

"He can stay with me." Steve's volunteering before he can really think it though, "I've got...a lot of space," he trails off. He did just rescue this Omega after all, he's not just going to abandon him to be alone somewhere. Somewhere that might not even be safe for a lone Omega.

Hopper raises an eyebrow at Eddie, Eddie shrugs, "not like I've had any better offers lately."

Hopper snorts, but he hands over a business card, "this is highly unorthodox, but...I don't care. I've got bigger things to worry about. Text me any details the kid can give you on the uncle. I'll be in touch."

And then Hopper just...drives away. It's maybe an hour and a half drive back from here, since Steve had to go out of his way for this clandestine meeting in an abandoned car lot.

"So is there anything you...want? Need?"

Eddie seems to think about it for a second, plucking at his nightshirt, "I mean, I don't have any cash, obviously, and I heard how much money you shelled out- I mean, do you think you can comp me from the FBI? Man, you didn't even get a receipt for me."

Steve starts laughing first, then Eddie joins in.

At Eddie's request they get milkshakes on the way home.

[starkwlkr]

Hey it would be great if you could write Charles and readers initial days as first time parents with ruby and how Charles got separation anxiety when he left his daughter for Singapore gp.

only these words | charles leclerc

title is literally my favorite chris cornell song 🫶🏼 i miss him

Charles fell in love with Ruby the second he laid eyes on her. She was practically his twin. Y/n joked that she had basically given birth to Charles’ twin. His family and friends came to visit in the hospital. It was hard to get Charles to hand over Ruby.

After Y/n was discharged from the hospital, the new family was headed home. Charles knew that Ruby wouldn’t understand anything he was saying, but he didn’t care since he kept explaining any little thing to his daughter as he drove back home.

“Those floaty things are called boats. When you’re older, you can get on one.”

It was like that for several weeks. Y/n saw how in love Charles was with fatherhood. He would change diapers, feed her and even got up in the middle of the night to calm the crying baby. One time, Y/n had listened to Charles talk to baby Ruby through the baby monitor after she had woken up.

“You’re so tiny. You’re my little princess, don’t tell your maman i said that, she might get jealous.” Charles softly spoke

Y/n chuckled. She continued listening.

“No matter what, you will always be my little princess. I guess that makes me a king and your maman would be the queen. A little girl born to a king and a queen. Princess Ruby Jules,” Charles went on. “I love you.”

And of course Charles would say those words to his little princess every night.

Thankfully Ruby was born during a break from the races so Charles was home for the first days of fatherhood. Eventually, it was time to leave his girls and return to the track which was something he didn’t want to do. The day before his flight, Charles was in Ruby’s nursery watching her sleep peacefully. He felt guilty for leaving, but Y/n assured him they would be okay since Pascale and Carla would take care of both of them.

“But what if there’s an emergency? You two need me here.” Charles said to Y/n.

“Ferrari needs you too.” Y/n replied.

“My girls are much more important than Ferrari. They can wait.”

When morning came, Charles didn’t even want to wake up. He understood he had a job and he needed to leave, but the thought of leaving his family broke his heart even if it was just for a few days.

“Charles, I will call you every day and night.” Y/n assured him.

“Why if Ruby forgets me?” Charles wondered.

“How could she forget her papa? She’s never going to forget you.”

It took everything to get Charles on the flight to Singapore on time. He kept giving kisses to both of his girls and telling them how much he was going to miss them.

“We’re going to be okay, my love. Ruby and I will be cheering for our favorite red car.” Y/n smiled and pressed a light kiss on Charles’ cheek.

“Mine?”

“No, number fifty five.”

y/nleclerc has added to their story

[multifandomgirl08]

To Constantly Be Away [Mini Verstappen Series]

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

Summary: Second race of the season and Max is already having a tough time with the car. Missing his family only makes it worse.

Warning(s): Fluff

A/N: I stayed up late watching qualifying and the race in Singapore while working on this, and took out my stress watching that on Mini Verstappen verse Max.

Words: 1.7k

Previous Part → Next Part Mini Verstappen Masterlist

It had been a bad weekend for Max, the car wasn’t running right with the new upgrades that had been added. They were starting P10 in the race. Y/N couldn’t fly to Jeddah with Nico because she was on call through the weekend. Everything was just going horribly wrong.

“Max!” He heard Christian call him over. “I know that you’re not in the best spirits right now, but I need to make sure that you’re okay.”

Christian did occasionally still check in with him before races, but given that Max hadn’t felt like this since before Daniel had left Red Bull. It felt nice that Christian could still pick up on those things after all this time.

“Call Y/N if you have to, find a way to talk to her or Nico.” Christian laid a hand on Max’s arm. “I know you’ll feel better for it once you have.”

Max tried to manage a smile but just gave him a stiff nod at the end.

Y/N had texted him when she got out of helping one of her co-workers with an issue one hour after he was already at the track for the race. She let him know that Nico had been sitting in front of the TV all afternoon waiting for the race to start before ordering an early dinner. In the photo that she sent, he could see her laptop open to her work email, Nico on his spot on the couch hugging one of the throw pillows. It had made some of Max's nerves go away but he still needed to talk to her at least for a few minutes.

He tapped his fingers against the screen of his phone, looking at the photo of her and Nico napping in his and Y/N’s bed. He let his phone unlock before pulling up his contacts and pressing on Y/N’s name. He stared at it for a few seconds before putting his phone up to his ear.

“Hello?” He heard her voice.

Max let his shoulders deflate, “Mijn leeuwin?” He stammered out.

“Hey Maxy,” She didn’t call him that often, only when she thought he really needed the comfort.

“Hi,” He weakly replied.

“What’s wrong?”

“Nothing,” He choked out, trying to brush off the sound of concern in her voice. He didn’t want to make Y/N upset or let her know how horrible he was feeling about being in the car. There was nothing that she could do to make the car better for him to drive.

He didn’t want to be at the track without his family. It felt wrong. He knew that Nico and Y/N were watching at home, and were supporting him even if they couldn’t be there but he selfishly wanted them here.

He heard Y/N sigh over the phone, “Do you want to talk to Nico? He’s coloring in front of the TV.”

“No, it’s not that bad.” He let slip out. He didn’t want to alarm her about how he was feeling. Brad would be coming into his driver's room soon before the race and he just needed a few moments to collect himself.

“Can you tell me about him? Tell me what he’s doing.” He asked.

“Sure,” He didn’t know if she was doing anything for work at the moment. But he knew that if she was, she was putting it aside for a few moments to calm him down. He could imagine her sitting on the couch with the caramel cashmere Hermés blanket thrown over her legs that had been gifted to them after they had moved. He could feel some of the pain of his headache slowly seep away as Y/N talked about Nico seeing Christian on the TV asking when was the next time that he could see Grandpa and Grandma GG. Max couldn’t help the smile that broke out when remembering that Nico couldn’t pronounce Geri’s name. It always ended up sounding like Gewy. The more she talked the more Max felt like he was in the right headspace to get inside the car. 50 laps, media, and then once he got on the plane he would be on his way home to his family.

They had talked until Brad had come into Max’s room to help him get ready for the race. Max had begrudgingly said goodbye.

“I love you.” He heard from Y/N.

“Love you, Papa!” He heard Nico yell. “Good luck.”

“I love you too, both of you.” He said cradling the phone in his hand. “Be home soon.”

Max pulled the phone away from his ear, giving Brad a small nod. Ready to go out there and give the race his all.

As the race went on it wasn’t as bad as he thought it would be. It wasn’t great, the major issues with the car seemed to go away after qualifying luckily. It was running closer to what he was used to. Even with those issues, he had somehow managed to finish P3. It felt like a miracle given how the weekend had been going.

He avoided the press as much as he could until he had to go for his post-race press conference and talk to the other journalists.

Everything felt so draining today. Normally he would talk to the team, and try to figure things out with GP about what went wrong earlier in the weekend but he just wanted to go home. He knew it was the thing that would set his head right.

Once his car got to the private airport, the next four hours passed by rather slowly. It was too quiet on the plane, Nico wasn’t bothering the stewardess on board about snacks, and Y/N wasn’t carding her fingers through his hair while she aimlessly checked her phone. He would normally end up taking a nap throughout the flight. She would wake him up slowly. He would start to grumble that she woke him up before her laugh would kick in. It was the best sound that he could hear after a long day on the track.

The drive from the airport was taking too long. Once he got to the house, he pulled into the garage. It took him almost no time to get his bag, lock his car, and make his way through the side door before walking into the living room.

Max quietly closed the door. Given how late it was Nico was probably asleep. Y/N would let him stay up to watch the race but once it was over, podium or not Y/N would have Nico get ready for bed.

He placed his keys in the bowl by the door, quietly walking through the house that was still covered in half-unpacked boxes. He went downstairs, walking by Nico's room to see the light turned off. Max opened the door, the hall light showing Nico's empty bed and missing pillow. That could only mean one thing...

He quietly walked towards the master bedroom, pushing open the door that was half closed. The moon casting a shadow over the bed, to see Y/N and Nico asleep under the covers, his side of the bed, open and waiting for him.

Nico normally wasn’t allowed to sleep in here with him and Y/N. Unless he had a nightmare, Nico would sleep in his own bed. She probably made an exception tonight because she didn’t know when his flight was going to get in.

He moved to the foot of the bed to take off his shoes.

"Max?" He heard as he slipped his shoes off. Then left them at the foot of the bed, making a mental note to put them away in the morning.

He turned his head to see Y/N barely awake, leaning against the pillows. Max shrugged off his jacket before walking over to her.

"Hi, mijn leeuwin." He was quick to kiss her forehead.

Over the last month since the wedding, Max had stopped questioning how Y/N fit into his life. The way that she could accept everything that was going on with his schedule and Nico. She took it all with so much grace. He never knew that someone could.

“Hey.” She muttered.

“I’ll change and then be in bed.” He watched her slightly nod until she laid her head back against the pillow. Nico turned over and moved to curl up next to her.

He was quick to remove his shirt and took off the skinny jeans that he was wearing, his socks getting stuck in the denim before throwing all of it into the laundry basket in the bathroom. His feet tapped against the cold tile, the transition of the wood doing nothing to warm his feet.

Max pulled back the sheets from his side of the bed being careful not to wake Nico. He took off his watch, put it on his nightstand, and then climbed under the black sheets of the bed. Max turned over towards his son and wife, pulling them in closer. All of the stress from the race seeping out of him, finally feeling like himself again.

Not Mad Max, not Super Max. Just Max.

Max closed his eyes, just letting himself lay there for a few moments. Taking in the quiet sound of the house, Nico sleeping next to him, Y/N within arms reach. He reached over, lightly stroking her cheek. He looked over meeting her eyes in the dark. He could see her lips form the question, "Are you okay?"

He nodded back brushing his thumb over her cheek again seeing her eyes flutter closed.

It blew Max away sometimes that this was his life. That by the age of 27 he had a wife and a child. The WDCs were nice and they were things that he was happy he had achieved, but this right here was what mattered to him most. The people that he got to come home to after stressful weekends and hard-fought victories. This was what was important to him.

Max settled further into his pillow ready to let sleep take him when he felt short hair brush over his arm. He opened one eye to see Nico had moved his head to rest against his shoulder. Max kissed the side of his son’s head, finally letting sleep take him.

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

[disneyprincemuke]

that’s just the way things go * femdriver

when her and logan crash out in a race, well, now what?

pairings: sebastian vettel x femdriver, logan sargeant x femdriver

warnings: accidents, car crash

notes: i warned you all.

(series masterlist) | (📂 the sophomore year)

-> canada, 2024

"ready, kid? one minute until the race starts," she hears sebastian in her ears. "everything good?"

she looks around her, trying to look at the grandstands with what little vision the halo provides her. typically, she'd not be able to hear the crowd cheering. but either something is up with her earphones, or one of her senses has heightened.

there has been an uneasy feeling in her stomach that she's not been able to shake off since she landed. there's a ringing in her head that's persistent all weekend.

"are you there?"

"yes, i'm sorry," she says quickly, perking up at the confusion in sebastian's words. "everything’s good.”

“is everything okay? you’ve had this worried look on your face all day,” sebastian states. “are you nervous? starting in the second row for the first time in f1?"

she looks to her side, noticing the ferrari mechanics working on charles’ car. she sighs and looks right up ahead at max’s red bull in front of her. diagonal to her is oscar’s car. “maybe it’s that. maybe i’m just nervous.”

“don’t worry about it, kid. i’ll be here.” she gets a feel for her steering wheel — the same one she’s had since she started last year. but for some reason, it didn’t feel great in her hands today.

her steering wheel doesn’t fit her palm today.

“let’s try and fight with the front row, alright? don’t let max get too far ahead.”

she breathes as the mechanics start to disperse. “i told max to always check his side view mirrors now that i’m behind him.”

she drives out of the pitlane, watching the car passing her before she rejoins the track. "who is that in the williams? is that alex or logan?"

"logan," sebastian says. "he's got good pace, but you're faster than him. you can overtake him whenever you see fit."

"how much faster than him? can i overtake him this lap?" she asks.

"up to your discretion. if you think you've got enough pace to catch him eventually – you have the fresher tires."

"okay."

she tries, trying her best to catch up to the williams car. she grunts under her breath, stretching her shoulders as she braces herself to fight logan on the track again.

she smiles. she hasn't fought logan on the track in a while so this is a very nice change of scenery. she tries to fight it fair and square, but she's noticed – only now – that he's developed a different driving style from the one she's used to.

she concedes about three corners into the lap, trying to get used to logan's driving style before she makes the decision to pull an overtaking move that would push logan out of the podium spot. which, realistically, she doesn't want to do if she had the choice.

maybe she should just let logan have the podium? she's already had one for herself last year in singapore after all. but no, she can't do that. there's always been a mutual understanding that whatever happens on the track should be a separate entity from their friendship.

if she concedes and lets him have the podium, despite knowing that she could very well beat him on the track, she is lying to herself and logan. and oscar, who is ahead of logan.

whatever happens on the track, stays on the track.

she always comes close, only to have to pull away from the early braking point that logan seems to be pulling at.

"seb, i can't find an opportunity to get past logan," she speaks, turning on the radio. "i need you to help me out. he went to the alex albon school of defending, apparently."

sebastian laughs. "okay, just keep trailing behind him. i'll let you know when."

"okay."

the uneasiness has managed to creep up into her body again. she feels her grip around the steering wheel falter, and her legs lock up on her as she tries chasing after him. logan manages to keep her behind him for a couple of laps, probably 3 or 4 if she remembers it correctly.

but there's a corner that logan runs too wide. she changes gears, suddenly changing her mind about slowing down and taking it slow, stepping on the gas pedal and taking a dive between the williams and the side of the track.

"beautiful overtake, kid," sebastian speaks into her ears. "he's still very close. keep the position until the flag if you can."

"i'm not chasing oscar?" she frowns, glancing at her side mirror. "i can shake logan off at the series of corners ahead, i'm sure."

"okay, but no risky moves. play it safe because you're already guaranteed for a podium at this rate."

and she holds off logan, for the better part of the next lap. they've been fighting head to head for a while until she turns into the corner, deeper than she typically would have done to throw logan off. but it seems that he's caught up with her games because he's directly next to her.

but she's already trying to go for the next corner while his car is still trying to finish the previous one. and it happens very quickly.

his left front wheel is caught slightly by her right rear, sending both of them off track. and because she was going a little faster than him, she’s spinning out at a much quicker rate than he is.

she shuts her eyes, feeling her car being flung onto surface that doesn't feel like the track anymore. she lets go of the steering wheel and bunches herself up. why is she still spinning? it shouldn't be taking this long.

until she feels the car come to a rude halting stop, the side of her car completely buried into the barriers of the track. she heaves as she tries to process her crash. it isn't as bad as her crash the year before, head first into the barrier in the streets of baku at 200 kilometres an hour.

but she does know one thing. she doesn't know if this is what she's been dreading all day, but she's furious. despite the ringing in her ears and the growing pain in one side of her body, she starts climbing out of the car.

"are you okay?" she hears sebastian asking her.

she doesn't respond. she reaches up for the halo of her car to pull herself up and climbs out of the car. she's on too much adrenaline now that the crash happened. the pain is absolutely nothing to her right now.

she unclips her helmet and yanks it off along with her balaclava, approaching the blue car in the gravel next to hers. logan is already out of the car, slowly approaching her.

"it’s o-"

she throws her arms into the air. "what the fuck is wrong with you?"

logan tilts his head, only taking off his helmet now. "what?"

“yeah, what is wrong with you? you ruined our fucking race!” she scream, flailing her arms in the air. “why did you do that? you knew there was another corner i had to make a sharp turn for!”

“you went deep! you accelerated way too soon.”

“no, you hit your brakes way too soon! now we’re here! i don’t get my podium and you don’t get your fucking points either!” she turns away from him, wiping her face on the sleeves of her racesuit in frustration. “fuck you, logan!”

a soft knock lands on the door, immediately being pushed open to reveal sebastian with a small smile. he has a paper bag in his hand and lifts it up to show her. “how are you feeling, kid?”

“fine,” she answers firmly, looking down at her phone. “have you seen liam? he’s supposed to be back with my twix bars by now.”

“he’s on his way back from the paddocks,” sebastian nods. “logan’s doing okay. mild concussion, from what james told me out in the hallway.”

she looks up from her phone, the anger in her eyes very prominent. it almost makes sebastian wish he hadn’t said anything in the first place. she furrows her eyebrows. “i don’t remember asking how logan is.”

“oh. you don’t want to know?”

“no.” she promptly goes back to texting on her phone, shaking her head. sebastian walks deeper into her room, careful not to agitate her more.

she puts her phone down on her lap and looks up. she takes a deep breath. “why would he do that, seb? not only did he ruin his own race, but he also ruined mine! why would he do that?”

sebastian shrugs. “i don’t know. i’m sorry. i’m sorry you had to retire from the race, kid. but it’s not his fault. things like these happen, you know?”

“not to me! not to us!” she rolls her eyes. “he’s so reckless for that! do you not think so?”

sebastian hums, patting her hand. “calm down, kid. i know you’re angry. but you and logan have been competing with one another half of your lives. don’t be like this.”

she shakes her head, moving her hand away from sebastian’s touch. she folds her arms over her chest. “he needs to apologise for ruining my race.”

“we’ll watch the playback later, okay? don’t jump into conclusions now. don’t ruin your friendship.”

“you’re saying there was possibility i caused the accident?”

“i don’t know yet. i immediately came to your side after the accident,” sebastian sighs, shaking his head. “please just get some rest. worry about this later.”

the door opens, revealing liam with mick trailing behind him. “oh, hey, logan’s-“

mick cuts himself short when sebastian’s head snaps to him, shaking his head profusely. mick’s lips form an ‘o’ shape as he slowly puts his attention to the silently raging girl on the hospital bed.

“we got your twix bars!”

“and a pepsi!” liam cheers, dancing over to her with a straw in his other hand. “blythe said she’s on the phone your parents, but once she’s done, she’ll come right back up here.”

she nods, returning her attention to her phone. she scoffs at the notification at the top of her screen, a text message from logan rolling in.

i’m not apologising this time

she scoffs and puts her phone down. she reaches out to liam. “give me my stupid pepsi.”

taglist: @wcnorris @treehouse-mouse @laura-naruto-fan1998 @mindless-rock @vellicora @leilanixx @ironmaiden1313 @angsthology @cherry-piee @christianpulisic10 @elliegrey2803 @cashtons-wife @sadg3 @a10vely-yutazen @mellowarcadefun @glitterf1 @megatrilss1885 @peqch-pie @gentlyweeps-world @woozarts @inejismywife @meadhgbcavanagh @2bormaybenot @love4lando

[lnfours]

Prompt “being kissed in the middle of a crowded room” with Lando x reader, they had a secret relationship, because she work for another team, but during the celebration of his podium in Singapore he can’t resist to her

YOU GUYS. question…? is one of my favorites off of midnights simply bc of this lyric and the disrespect this song gets is just RUDE.

so thank you anon for letting me shine, here we go! :)

10k celebration

the fireworks were booming, the crowd going wild as the black and orange mclaren crossed the finish line in second for the singapore grand prix. you watched from the ferrari garage, fighting back the urge to cheer for the boy in papaya and black.

you and the team made their way out of the garage, rushing to celebrate their first place win with carlos, but you were more worried about the crowd forming around the mclaren driver.

you weaved through the crowd of papaya, everyone looking confused as your bright red stuck out like a sore thumb. their silent questions were answered when you smiled, “lando!”

his head whipped around to find where your voice was coming from, but adam found you first, helping you through the crowd to help you get to his son.

lando immediately spotted your red attire, tugging off his helmet and the mask. his dad grabbed the bulky items from his hands, making him able to pull you in for a hug as you had finally gotten in front of him. you clung onto your boyfriend tightly, your arms wrapping around his neck as he lifted you off the ground.

“i’m so proud of you!” you laughed, ignoring the millions of clicks from the cameras around you.

he laughed with you, unsure of what to say as he set you down on your feet, cupping your face in his hands and before you could even process what was happening, his lips were on yours. you kissed him back, smiling against his lips. you ran your fingers through his hair and he damn near folded at the taste of his favorite lipgloss on your lips.

the crowd cheered on the brit, “yeah, lando! get in there!”

he laughed into your mouth, the smiles you both were sporting breaking the kiss. he hugged you again, your eyes wandering up as the fireworks continued to boom and light up the night sky.

“i love you,” you pressed a kiss to his cheek, “congratulations, my love.”

“thank you. i love you, too,” he smiled, “how much for you to join mclaren?”

you laughed, “i think you and the boys are going to have to fight over that one.”

he huffed playfully, slinging his arm over your shoulder, “good thing i can fight.”

“we’ll see about that, baby.”

[cheriladycl01]

Ghost - Oscar Piastri x UnknownDriver! Reader Part 4

Plot: Reader is the first female F1 driver of the century, however no-one knows that as you are a ghost on the grid. You started in 2022, coming in P12 in the championship. You get moved to Red Bull Racing in 2023 with the off year for Sergio Perez.

Credit to yrsonpurpose for the GIF

You were chilling in the cool down room with Max and Charles who had managed to overtake Carlos on the last lap. Your hair was a mess, and you'd had to ask Max to unbraid it.

"Why is it so knotted!" Max complained as he brushed his finger through to get the top of the braid loose.

"Well... I've just been driving at 200mph for the last hour and a half, you guess!" you laugh at him before grabbing a towel and wiping it across your red face.

"That was a really good call on your behalf Y/N, you won us the race!" Max smiles, watching the onscreen of you both tag-teaming Carlos. It then switches to Charles taking over Carlos in the last few seconds of the race. You swish your hand in a motion, the overtake being cold and crisp.

"Damn, that was cold" you exclaim, shaking your hand off turning to Charles.

"Says you with that move you pulled!" Charles exclaims watching on another screen a playback of your driving.

After some time in the room you are called out for the podium. Charles walks out first, Max walking out a few seconds after him before you walk out using Charles block to boost yourself up onto the P1 podium spot.

The British national anthem plays and you look up, at the screen that shows your flag and you stood with it. You smile proudly happy to hear it once again.

Afterwards, your all presented with the trophy's. You push your trophy up into the air, the whole of your team cheering and jumping up and down. Geri was filming you and Max while Christian was celebrating down below with the team. Proud of you not only for the fantastic drive but the strategies you called out as well that put the team ahead.

Your eyes look around seeing if it was just Ferrari and Red Bull here to celebrate, which is was with the exception of a few Alpine members who you were close with in your time there and Fernando Alonso who was your team mate from 2022.

You thought maybe Oscar would be there, as the start of an apology. Where he would explain he'd been stressed when doing the interview and he didn't mean any of what he said.

After that interview though he didn't seem like he wanted to be your friend anymore. The last few weeks, hadn't been unbearable for you. You'd just been giving Oscar space like Lando had tried to tell you too.

However, after what he said about you in that interview you didn't even want to talk to him.

You were guided to interviews most of the questions not being about racing, just being about you and Oscar and how you were feeling about what he said about you.

Most people who were watching the interviews could tell from your spacey look and your need for the interviewer to repeat more often than not, that you weren't really there with them.

You refused to speak on the matter with you and Oscar, leaving it with a small 'you didn't want to comment on it'.

You of course put the weekend behind you preparing for Singapore, it was tense and for the whole time it was a a fight between you and Piastri. Somehow, your Pit Stop had been fucked up. A communication error of course between your team and the engineers making you and Max pit at the same time.

Because of this you came behind Oscar, in P8, Max had also only got P5 so you knew it wasn't a happy day for Red Bull. You were clearly annoyed in your post race media duties and you left Singapore as soon as possible. No longer wanting to stay there.

There was of course more comments from Oscar which were obviously aimed at you. You'd clipped his wheel when he'd gone into a turn too tight and he'd nearly spun out, he'd complained suggesting he was leaning more towards a skill issue than car issue.

Japan wasn't any better with a DNF, that was your fault that had you stewing in your drivers room for the rest of the race.

Again, Oscar had comments about your DNF, more subtle this time as he didn't specifically comment on your DNF as there was quiet a few.

Christian and Max were getting worried about you, to the point they hired someone for you to talk too. They didn't know what this mental funk was that you were in but they knew you were a better driver than this and they wanted that girl back who was able to beat Max.

So you talked, to a lady who dealt with athletes and performance issues when it came to a mental mindset. After, it was like you had a whole different outlook on race weekends.

Qatar was better, despite it being a head fuck. You came P4, just outside a podium where Lando and Oscar were depending together despite Max trying to help you from P1 but ultimately was told not to sacrifice the race to help get a double podium.

Oscar had not only come P2 in the actual race, but he'd won the sprint shoot out.

"Y/N, great race! You seem better and like your back to racing!" the interviewer asks and you nod, using the ice cold towel you were given to wipe across your face.

"Yeah, I think after my wins i struggled in both Singapore and Japan it was just one thing after another and it knocked my confidence. But you know after some talks with the team and getting that help that I needed, I'm happy with where we are right now. Today was an incredibly hard race because of the heat. We've had a lot of people go to the medical tent because of the conditions so yeah it wasn't my best run... but It's better than it has been" you smiled at the interviewer.

Your PR manager hands you another bottle of water, taking the empty one from your hands.

"How do you feel about Oscar Piastri's sprint race win, and his P2 podium?" she asks and you struggle not to roll your eyes at the question. Sometimes you feel like your being interviewed for a gossip magazine rather than talking about your sport.

"I'm really happy for him. Considering the conditions both he and Lando had a fantastic race today. They got great points for Mclaren today and I'm sure the team is also really happy!" you smile nodding.

"Some kind words there from Y/N on Oscar Piastri unlike what he had to say about her earlier today before the start of the race when we caught him, but she proved him wrong" says the interviewer as your walked away.

"What did Oscar say about me?" you ask, but were ignored and told to focus on the next week ahead.

Austin again was great for you coming P4 with Max in P1 and Oscar with an unfortunate DNF. Mexico was also good, you and Max were able to split the Ferrari's up and get a double podium. Charles defended from you very well and you weren't able to get DRS or a slipstream from him so you ended in P3.

Brazil was good as well, very close to having another podium but Fernando Alonso was half a second ahead of you.

Vegas was going to be good until Charles overtook you on the last lap just down to race pace. You weren't far behind him at he end and nearly caught up with him but you got to share a podium with the pair of them again.

And again, in Abu Dhabi you placed 4th. It was a good season and you'd placed 2nd in the constructors not far behind your team mate Max.

You hadn't interacted with Oscar at all, you'd refused to speak about him in interviews. Lando and you had text on multiple occasions and he tried to stay away from talking about Oscar but you asked out of concern. But with the winter break, you were going to concentrate solely on getting fitter and working for the season ahead.

2024 would be a wild year, you were sure of it!

Taglist:

@littlesatanicassholebitch @hockey-racing-fubol @laura-naruto-fan1998 @22yuki @simxican @sinofwriting @lewisroscoelove @cmleitora @stupidandunnecessary @clayra-g @daemyratwst @honey-belden @moonypixel @lauralarsen @vader-is-hot @ironcowboycopnickel @itsjustkhaos @the-untamed-soul @beebo86 @happylittlereader @ziejustme @lou-larcher5 @thewulf @purplephantomwolf @chasing-liberosis @chillyleclerc @chanthereader @annoyingmoonballoon @summissss @evieepepi08 @havaneseoger08 @celesteblack08 @gulphulp @fandom1ruined2me @celebstories @starfusionsworld @jspitwall @sierruhh @georgeparisole @dakotatankbig @youcannotcancelquidditch @zzonsbeek @tallbrownhairsarcastic @mellowarcadefun @ourteenagetragedy @otako5811 @countingstacksandpanicattacks @peachiicherries @formulas-bitch @cherry-piee @hopexcroc @mirrorball-6 @spilled-coffee-cup @mehrmonga @bigsimperika @blueberry64857959 @eiraethh @lilypadlover @curseofhecate @alliwantisadonut @the-fem1n1ne-urge @21stcenturytaegi @dark-night-sky-99 @spideybv28 @i-wish-this-was-me @tallrock35 @butterfly-lover @barnestatic @landossainz @darleneslane @barcelonaloverf1life @r0nnsblog @ilove-tswizzle @kapsylia @laneyspaulding19 @lazybot @malynn @cassielikereading @viennakarma @teamnovalak @landosgirlxoxo @marie0v @jlb20416 @yourbane @teamnovalak

[written-in-flowers]

A Night In: Hongjoong x Reader

Pairing: Hongjoong x Fem!reader

AU: sugar baby, contracted partner 

Word Count: 3k

Genre: Smut, with bits of fluff 

Tags: poly relationship, polycule, oral sex (female receiving), breast play, nipple play, foreplay in general, face sitting, face riding, multiple orgasms, multiple positions, light dom/dub themes and undertones, protected sex, mentions of creampie, mentions of breeding kink/pregnancy, cock warming. 

Summary: As an Idol Companion, part of your job is going on tour with your boyfriends. Today, you’re in Singapore on a very gloomy, very rainy day. With his schedule completely free, Hongjoong has decided that he’s bored and wants to partake in his favorite meal: you. 

Previously on Companion

****

You don't always do it out of boredom. You mostly do it on nights when the mood is right or if one of you had a bad day or simply haven't for a while. But, today, with the gloomy clouds outside your wide hotel windows, you supposed it'd happen eventually. 

Being an Idol Companion, part of your job is to accompany them on tour. Following them around the States for their North American tour, you hopped around from airport to airport and hotel to hotel. The managers always gave you your own room should you want some peace and quiet, but you explained you didn’t really need your own room. You hated being alone, honestly, when you’re so accustomed to being with your boyfriends all the time. So, often you canceled your room and stayed with whichever member you wanted to stay with. You recalled your earlier years where you kept this strict schedule because you hated leaving any member without quality time, but as years went on, you learned jealousy isn’t a problem in your relationship. The group certainly had pairs that stuck out more than others: you often went out with Wooyoung and San during the week; Seonghwa and Hongjoong never minded taking you out together. It certainly made things easier. 

Today, you’d been paired with Hongjoong which suited you just fine. Laying beside him in his bed, his free schedule left you both with not much to do. You floated between working, watching tv, or watching videos on Hongjoong’s phone. It was only a matter of time before it came up. 

"I'm bored," Hongjoong said, his high voice soft underneath the fluffy blankets. You'd agreed to take your second nap of the day after lunch, but he clearly wasn’t that tired. He wrapped his arms around you and placed a kiss on your lips, "Sit on my face."

"I'm sorry, what?" You laughed, a bit shocked by the blatant request. 

"Sit on my face," he repeated, pecking your lips again lazily and holding you closer. “I want to taste you. I haven’t tasted it in so long.” 

Beneath the black t-shirt and shorts, his hard body pressed into your soft one. Petal lips caressed yours open into a deeper kiss, his tongue sliding over yours in a faint groan. Slim fingers roamed over your tanktop and panties and it became clear what caused this sudden suggestion once he grabbed at your bottom. You'd gone to bed in only a tank top and underwear to be more comfortable, so he felt your bare ass underneath the cotton panties you’d thrown on. Your tank top being skewed slightly from your sideways position didn’t help either. This only encouraged Hongjoong further, his hand sliding up your shirt to the curve of your breast. His gentle touch ignited the fire inside you. Your own hands instinctively went under his shirt; the smooth skin felt warm on your touch. The faint smell of his body wash titillated your senses, and you draped your leg over his side. Thoughts of his tongue rolling around your hard clit caused you to whimper into his mouth. When the tip of his tongue brushed over your bottom lip, you pushed against him gently. 

"I'm taking this as a 'yes'?" He smirked, returning the movement with one of his own. 

"Yes."

He rolled onto his back and let you climb on top. You gasped when you straddled his lap to find him already hard. The idea that you'd caused this aroused you further. You liked having this effect on him. Hongjoong’s hands slowly felt up your torso to your breasts, tugging down the loose tank top and cupping them both. This direct contact made you melt as you ground yourself into him. Nothing felt better than his hands. Nothing felt better than him. On lonely nights, you found yourself longing for his warmth and length. True, you’ll always have the other members, and you did crave them on particular nights, but Hongjoong…it felt different with him. Some nights your passion erupts into flames, and you lose yourselves in the heat of the moment. But, other days, like today, you both showed nothing but tenderness. You hovered over him, your body staying close to him, and you kissed him again. His hands started at your thighs, where he grabbed and smoothed over them gently. You rolled your hips into his hardon as he continued feeling up your body. 

“Remember our first time?” you asked as you kissed down his neck, recalling the memory as his hands slid under your tank top. 

“How can I forget it?” he replied, eyes falling closed at your kisses. “It was after we’d gone to the festival for chuseok. I took you to meet my parents, and we decided to go to this little festival my town was having.” He laughed softly, “I was so shy.”

“It was sweet,” you said, smiling. “I thought you might back out last minute.”

“I considered it,” he said, holding you close as he brought you to his lips. “But then, I saw how beautiful you looked in that pink and white hanbok, and I realized I wanted to be closer to you. I wanted to take that step with you,” he planted gentle kisses on your shoulder. 

“Maybe I should wear hanbok more often,” you teased, grinding into him and earning a low growl from his chest. “Since you liked it so much.”

“You could wear anything and I’d still want you to sit on my face,” he said, voice lowering as the lust returned and he cupped both your breasts again. 

Hongjoong latched his lips around one nipple, moaning as he suckled it for you, and it sent pulsations down your body. You felt his hardness grow between your thighs, the thin fabric of your bottoms becoming pure torture. Memories of your first time together warmed your heart, and made you want him even more. Hongjoong was the first to approach you about sex. You’d been dating the members for almost six months, and you’d mostly kissed a few of them by then. It’d happened so naturally. It happened as if some higher being decided you’d both take that intimate step closer. You first thought that perhaps your fondness and favor for Hongjoong came because he’d been the first of all eight. Yet, as time slowly moved on, that turned out to not be the case. 

You loved him. 

Truly.

Deeply. 

And you’d never admit that to anyone.

"Joongie," you whined, feeling his hot tongue lick your nipple. 

"Sit up here," he said. 

With a pat on your thigh, you slid up his torso to straddle his head instead. You braced yourself against the white headboard above him as his hot breath ghosted over your center. 

"My favorite part," you heard him growl as he left a light kiss right between your thighs. 

You giggled despite the wetness surging against his kisses. "I bet it is," you said, "Since you asked me so bluntly to sit on your face."

"Well, it's raining," he said, putting another kiss right where your clit is. You gasped once his kisses became deeper, and his tongue began rolling against the thin fabric. "And I'm bored," he mumbled. 

"Please, be bored more often then," you breathed at his lips kissing up and down the sides. 

Hongjoong hummed against each side which vibrated gently in the area. The combination of his wet tongue and the dampness of your center made your underwear even thinner. You could feel the exact position of his mouth on you; you felt every brush of his tongue and you gripped the cushioned headboard for support. When he threaded the fabric between your folds, he licked up both sides of your sex and occasionally dipped to your clit. You bit your lower lip to keep a moan from escaping you; you stayed still to let him work at his own pace, but you wished he’d go faster. Hongjoong’s tongue brought on a fresh need that burned inside you. Soon, he tugged your panties to the side, a hand keeping them hooked there, and sighed softly. 

"I remember the first time I ate you out like this" he said, lapping at the trickle of wetness nestled between your lips. "I worried you wouldn’t like it.”

“I did have to give you some instruction,” you grinned, shutting your eyes as he started peppering kisses on your damp sex. “But, my knees were shaking by the time I came. I love it when you-”

He cut you off with a gentle lick to your clit. Several more licks followed, never pushing the folds apart to reach the hard pearl inside, but rather letting it open itself. Hongjoong simply ran his tongue over the center languidly, focusing right against your clit in every stroke. You shuddered at the tip of his tongue sliding up and under the edges of it, as if tracing it for memory. He knew it sent slight sparks that had you mewling in minutes. When your sex became fully drenched, Hongjoong sucked whatever juices he could get from you. He hummed his delight at your taste, burying his face in it for more. Keeping you locked against him with his arms, he didn't hesitate to begin rapidly flicking your sensitive clit. The sudden change in pace had you wriggling in place to each little pang of pleasure he caused; your breathy moans turned into needy whimpers that slipped out of you. Your body craved more of him. Wagging the flat of his tongue over it, you reached down into his black hair to keep him still. Sensing the shift, Hongjoong stayed put as you gradually rode his tongue. 

"Just like that," he said, voice muffled by your pussy, "Ride my face like that."

Sliding his tongue inside you, you moved gently up and down. The tip of his nose brushed lightly to your clit, which only aroused you more. It wasn't enough. His rough tongue reached far, but not far enough. You needed more. His hands reached back behind you, and firmly grasped your ass. The light smack he gave to one cheek brought out a squeal you couldn't contain. He did this a few more times while you used his tongue, loving the sounds it produced from you. 

"Fuck me," you whimpered, "I want you to fuck me like you did the first time."

“I will, baby,” he replied in that sultry tone that gave you goosebumps. “I will, but I want you to cum in my mouth first.” 

Hearing such filth come from him in that voice made you tremble on top of him. He let you continue riding the full length of his tongue, the muscle almost cupping your sensitive bundle. He stopped you once or twice to flick it quickly before allowing you to keep going. That familiar pinching sensation struck you as the sensitivity built up, and you grabbed onto the headboard in front of you. You’re sure the member next door could hear your orgasm hit you right away. Hongjoong latched his mouth on your pussy as you shuddered, eyes closed tight as your body shook in his grip. Even once the initial climax passed, Hongjoong sucked up whatever fluids dripped from you and swallowed them. You needed more. 

He chuckled when he darted his tongue into your pussy. No doubt he felt your walls fluttering and clenching onto anything pushing inside. You reached behind you to feel his erection straining against his shorts and boxers. 

"Hongjoong," you whined as he prodded your entrance once more. You started stroking and rocking into him at the same time. "Stop teasing," you said, "And fuck me already."

"Now, baby, you know that's not how we ask for things we want," he said sternly, slapping your thigh sharply. "Ask me nicely like the sweetie I know you are."

"Hongjoonie?"

"Hm?"

"Can you please fuck me now?" You pouted, putting in your most innocent tone. "Please?"

"But I am doing that, angel," he said, pointedly pushing his tongue inside a moment before pulling away, "See? I'm using my tongue. Don't you like my tongue?"

"I do," you whined, "But I want your cock more."

Hongjoong pretended to think about it, rubbing your thighs and pecking your sex again. "I don't know," he said, pondering on it. "I'm enjoying just doing this. I haven't done it in a while."

"Your cock feels so much better though," you pleaded. "I love your tongue but I can never get enough of your dick."

"Well," he sighed, "When you put it that way and since you asked so nicely. I guess we could…"

You laughed together before he released you. He fumbled with the waistband of his pants a moment, before withdrawing his length from them. The shaft flushed red, it strained against his pelvis and twitched with arousal. The sight of him wearing nothing but his shirt, which ended up over his chest, was divine. Nothing you dreamt up could compare.  His groan was immediate when you rubbed yourself against him, your slick making the motion much easier than before. 

"Fuck," you breathed, feeling his shaft push between your folds, "I could do this…all day…" 

"I don't have a schedule today," he smirked, sitting up to put his arms around you, "And I can't imagine anything more fun than this."

You quickly fished a condom from the bag by the bed, and let him put it on before coming together again. You almost considered pretending to forget, so then he could cum in you again. You’d enjoyed it that night after the gangbang, and continuously thought about asking for it again. But, you know better and so does he. 

Angling himself with you, you both groaned with relief. Your walls squeezed around his cock, keeping it deep inside even when you started slowly bouncing in his lap. Hongjoong and you stayed close together, neither of you in a hurry to finish, and kissed. The juices still on his mouth and chin tinged your kiss, but neither of you cared. Kissing Hongjoong was enough. Your arms slipped around his in a passionate kiss, his body cradling you each time you met. You certainly would do this all day and night if he let you. Nothing felt as good as Kim Hongjoong, your boyfriend, deep inside you this way. Once you and him did it, it became difficult for either of you to stop. 

Something you felt with all the members. 

The sudden touch of his tip to your g-spot had you shaking and whining in his arms. Normally, when he sensed your orgasm, Hongjoong chased after it with steady strokes. This time, he palmed your breasts and kissed you while he let you work it yourself. His fingers brushed across both your nipples, bringing on more twinges of pleasure, and pinched them gently. The little motions on the sensitive peaks added to the torturous pace your orgasm approached.  He hardly moved his hips, though not out of laziness, but so he could watch you unravel in front of him. Hongjoong enjoyed watching you this way, whether with him or another member. He eventually sat back on his elbows once he heard your moans grow louder, and admired you as your orgasm approached. His eyes locked with yours, hazy and full of lust, and you didn't look away when you started saying his name woven into curses. One hand rubbed your clit in slow circles, and you saw him start shuddering. 

"Where…Where, baby?" Was all he could ask through his soft huffing. "Where do you want it?"

You thought about the gangbang again, and what Hongjoong did afterwards. You remembered how his semen leaked from you afterwards, getting onto your thighs and sheets. You haven't stopped thinking about it since it happened. The agency doctors cleared you of pregnancies or diseases, and advised abstaining from sex for a while but…

No. You couldn't. As much as the idea appealed to you, you can’t. A baby in your current situation could be bad for you and the members. 

But seven years together gave Hongjoong plenty of insight into you. "You want me to cum in you again, huh?" He smirked, rolling his thumb around your clit to help you along, "Disappointed the first time didn't take?" 

"Joongie," you giggled despite the pleasure building. "We can't."

"Alright, angel, but," he pushed himself further inside, "I want you to-to know…" he pulled you in close and said in your ear, "I'll cum in you whenever you want…as many times as you want. I loved cumming in you…so fucking much…"

But, into the condom it went. Your eyes closed, your orgasm stiffening your body in his grasp, you pictured his cum spraying thick streams against your walls. You wished he'd do it again just so you can feel that. Knowing he'd willingly do it made you want it more. Yet, you settled for pretending instead. 

Your orgasms subsided, but neither of you broke apart. You couldn't bring yourself to leave his embrace right away; not when you felt so close to him. You rested on top, enjoying the feel and warmth of his naked skin against yours; his cock remained inside you so you stayed firmly locked to him. You felt tempted to keep riding him even if he softened to have him a second time, but you couldn’t find it in you at the moment. His arms wrapped around your midsection, but he did not grope or fondle any part of you. He held you and you held him. 

Once again, that special connection that occurred when you first met blossomed between you. It scared you somewhat, you realized in his arms. 

You’ve been an Idol Companion for nine years, starting when you were nineteen up until now, and met Ateez two years into it. You dated smaller groups, and soloists before the boys. They all treated you well, took care of you and adored you. You enjoyed their company, and they, in return, enjoyed yours. You developed great friendships with some of them, and you’re always happy to see them if you cross paths. Yet, real love never came. The reality that your contract and your company is not forever constantly loomed over your head; it told you to never grow attached because it could end at any time. So, you never let yourself be too close or give too much of yourself away to your past partners. They had good memories with you; that is the most a Companion can really hope for….to be a memory. 

You didn’t want to be only a memory with Hongjoong. 

Or Seonghwa.

Or Yunho.

Or Yeosang. 

Or San, Mingi, Wooyoung or Jongho. 

You sometimes think about the day they disband and cry. It scares you. You never felt so attached to any one person or group before. You don’t think you could ever live without them, especially Hongjoong. Guilt filled you every time you thought that if they decided to end your relationship, you’d never recover. You can’t see yourself with anyone else. You knew if they broke up with you, the world around you would be bleak and lifeless. There'd be no Jongho to make a goofy joke or Yeosang to give a kind word when you feel like dying. No Wooyoung or San to shower you with kisses and compliments whenever you're insecure. Your twin towers, Yunho and Mingi…who would be there to partner with you on the dance floor? Seonghwa and Hongjoong, those two who are always there when you need them. You'd miss each and every one of them. This sad thought made you kiss Hongjoong again. This time it was deeper, longer, and full of everything you couldn’t put into words. You needed him to know how you might stop breathing if any of them left you. You didn’t break away as he rolled you onto your sides and brought the sheets over you both. 

“I love you too,” he whispered when he finally broke away, lips brushing against yours. “So much.”

“Never leave. Promise me.”

“I promise I won’t. None of us would ever leave you,” He snuggled you to him and said, “You’ve imprinted yourself on me, I know that much. Wherever I go, you’ll just be there with me too."

You shared a smile and another kiss before Hongjoong put on a movie for you to watch under the covers. Having this small bit of reassurance was enough to keep your spirits up the rest of the day. You spent most of it naked in bed, watching television or working on your laptops, and having sex a few times more. It turned out to be a perfect day. Around night time, someone knocked on the door. Hongjoong winked at you since he knew who it was. 

“I’m sorry, hyung,” he answered the door with fake innocence, “Did YN and I disturb you? I hope we weren’t being too loud. You know how YN gets when she’s really turned on.” 

“Shut up,” Seonghwa laughed, his reaction making you join in. 

You heard his heavy footsteps, and came face-to-face with one of the most handsome men you knew. Seonghwa stood in a black and white striped shirt tucked into black jeans. A simple look that suited him so well. He gave you a once over before smiling. 

“Hello beautiful,” he said, giving you a chaste kiss. “I haven’t seen you today. Hongjoong’s kept you hostage in here, huh?”

“He has,” you pouted, kneeling up and letting the sheets slide off you to reveal your naked body, “Please, Hwa, save me from him.”

His dark eyes swept over you once, then he smirked, “Oh, I’ll save you.”

Wrapping his arms around you, you both fell onto the bed and kissed. You could smell his faint cologne, and the body wash he’d used filling all of your senses. Naturally, your body wrapped around his and his kiss deepened. The feeling of his rough jeans against your bare sex tickled something inside you, but your body felt too worn out to react enough. Seonghwa, knowing your body better than most, picked up on this immediately and stopped. That. You didn’t want to lose that. How can you be expected to live without a partner like him now? 

“Where are you going all dressed up?” you asked, breaking away from him. 

“The maknaes want to go out for dinner,” he looked between you and Hongjoong, who threw on his shirt as Seonghwa spoke, “So I came to ask if you two wanted to come.”

You looked at Hongjoong, who said, “Sure. We’ll go. Where are we going?”

“They want sushi, so it’ll probably be a sushi place.”

“Ooh, sushi!” you cheered. You pecked Seonghwa’s lips and freed yourself from his embrace. “I need to shower, if we’re going to go.” 

“Alright,” Hongjoong said, kissing you next, “You go on ahead. I’ll be there in a minute.”

You walked into the bathroom, spacious and tiled in black and white, and turned on the shower. Voices from outside caught your attention, muffled by the door and the running water, but it comforted you all the same. Another thing you cannot live without now. You knew it’d end someday, because that’s simply how life has always been for you, but you intended to enjoy it for as long as possible. 

[carlando]

thinking about a red-faced nineteen year old lando norris shaking the hand of an amused twenty-five year old carlos sainz jr and them watching each other in some mclaren technology center conference room, having absolutely no idea how hard they’d fall in love with each other. no idea about brazil, no idea about austria, about monaco, about singapore.

anxious wreck lando meeting anxious wreck carlos, it was over for them before they could mitigate it. five years later and nobody knows what they are. like it could be an epic friendship but lando stares at carlos like he’s christ himself and carlos can not go five seconds without touching lando’s arm or waist or stomach which is funny but like they’ve ruined my life. or oddly saved it. maybe, simultaneously.

[nyoomfruits]

post brazil gp landoscar fluff because i feel like we all need some of that rn lmao

Lando doesn’t expect Oscar to follow him, after.

Sure, they’ve been having this thing going between them for a few weeks now, a thing that started with a frantic make out session after the wild ride that was the Singapore Grand Prix and continued all throughout the shared podiums in Japan and Qatar, but still.

To be fair, when the US GP had happened, Lando hadn’t really expected Oscar to follow him either. DNF’s always sucked, and Lando usually liked to deal with them by rolling himself into a blanket and eating a pint of ice cream and wallowing over all the things that could have gone different, that should have gone different, that he could have done different.

But Oscar had followed him anyway.

After Mexico, too, which wasn’t bad but wasn’t good either, but Oscar was still there, tight smile and tired eyes, following Lando to his hotel room and kissing him softly the second the door closed behind them.

Still, after all of that, Lando doesn’t expect Oscar to follow him. Not this time. Not after that disaster of a first lap. Not after Oscar had to watch Lando take second place even though he had to spend the entire race playing a game of catch up he was never going to win.

And yet, when Lando gathers the last things in his drivers room, tries to shove everything back into his bag with a franticness that only ever comes with a great desire to go back to the hotel and sleep, Oscar appears in the doorway. He looks a little tired, a little sad, a little withdrawn, but when Lando looks up, meets his eyes, a smile takes over his face. It’s a soft, gentle little thing he only ever seems to save for Lando. “Hey,” he says, leaning against the doorjamb. “Ready to go?”

Lando pauses, gives Oscar a calculating look. “You don’t. We don’t have to,” he says, eventually. He’s not. He wants to. He always wants to. He thinks about that sometimes, how much he always seems to want so much from Oscar. How Oscar always seems so willing to give.

“Okay,” Oscar says, brows pinching together. “But I want to.”

The ‘Do you?’ hangs unspoken between them.

“It’s just,” Lando starts, searching for words. “You had a shit race. I get it if you want some time alone. Or something. You don’t owe me anything. I’d get it.” He’s been there. He’d get it, if Oscar just wanted to be left alone for a bit.

Oscar hums, pushes himself off the doorjamb to make his way over to Lando. “I know. Thank you,” he says, taking Lando’s face in his hands and pressing a kiss to his forehead, leaving Lando a little flabbergasted and a lot flustered. “You’re sweet. But I would really just like to go home.” He takes Lando’s bag from his hands, then, slings it over his own shoulder and glances around the room to see if they’re forgetting anything.

Lando unfreezes when Oscar says. “Lando? You coming?” From where he’s standing in the doorway again, and hurries after Oscar, hoping he can blame the flush on his cheeks on the exertion of the race.

It isn’t until later, much later, when he lies in his bed in his hotel room, listening to Oscar’s soft even breath as he sleeps peacefully next to Lando, that he realizes.

When Oscar had said home.

He’d meant Lando.

[sailing-with-100-ships]

The hate surrounding Carlos is surreal. This is a big rant and people are gonna be pissed.

I have not been watching this sport for long but in this short time I have seen how people attack him for things which are not his fault.

He did bad in quali due to the crash which could have been fatal and which ruined his car AGAIN and this was the second crash he had in one week. The previous one was also very serious. We all know how bad it could have been.

On the other hand, there are still some people who think Carlos still does not give enough and is not supposed to be driving for Ferrari. These are the people who sit in the comfort of their home not knowing what pressure he is facing in that car.

He still manages to give his best performance when we think he is done for. He went from P12 to P6 on the last race. We know how he was shaken from the crash and the incident and turn 1 but still manages to pull through.

Everyone has bad week and this one is unfortunately a bad one for Carlos. That is all to it. The world is against him but he will still try to push through and be at the top. I know he will, because he is Carlos Sainz Jr, the winner of the 2023 Singapore Grand Prix.

And the haters can hate him, but he still remains the only non redbull race winner this season. Toodaloo.