#senior race engineer

[blorbocedes]

scruffy bearded nico isn't real and can't hurt me

[httpsserene]

hey can I request something that’s angsty to fluff and then smut for Oscar where reader gets a ton of hate for dating Oscar so she kind of ghosts him for a bit and they figure things out

𝐛𝐞𝐬𝐭 𝐢 𝐞𝐯𝐞𝐫 𝐡𝐚𝐝 𝐰/𝐨𝐩𝟖𝟏

📖𝘀𝘂𝗺𝗺𝗮𝗿𝘆: oscar really just wants to hear you laugh again. 📖𝗰𝗼𝗻𝘁𝗲𝗻𝘁 𝘄𝗮𝗿𝗻𝗶𝗻𝗴: 18+ only. angst. fluff. happy ending. reader is exhausted physically and mentally. reader's internal monologue is not not nice. bad eating habits. bad sleeping habit. self-deprecation. don't worry she's back on her bs at the end. reader neglects herself (?) and her relationship. implied self-sabotage. people are mean. don't worry oscar is meaner. oscar piastri is a good boyfriend. emotional hurt/comfort. tenderness. intimacy. baths and pampering. crying (non-sexy). implied sex. implied bath sex. logan and lando as plot devices. no beta we die like my will to live during finals. 📖𝘄𝗼𝗿𝗱 𝗰𝗼𝘂𝗻𝘁: 5.1k words. 📖𝗽𝗮𝗶𝗿𝗶𝗻𝗴: oscar piastri x fem!reader 📖𝗴𝗲𝗻𝗿𝗲: oneshot w/ blurbs. 📖𝘀𝗼𝘂𝗻𝗱𝘁𝗿𝗮𝗰𝗸: best i ever had • drake

𝗽𝗿𝗲𝗳𝗮𝗰𝗲: sorry it took me so long, i've changed this fic like multiple times :/ hope it fulfills you request properly :))) this is not my favorite thing in the world, i feel like if i went on a smaller scale i would've enjoyed this more but what can you do. this is also not very black reader coded? idk but feel like it's lacking there. i also apologize for my inability to write an oscar fic without including lando, he's such a willing plot device though even if he's a little ooc. i also couldn't find the mental space to write smut but there's smth for you at the end. dedicated to us women in stem! i hope you have fun reading this because i didn't have fun writing it :)

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oscar is worried. you haven’t responded to his texts for a week, he hasn’t seen your face for two weeks, and he hasn’t heard your voice for three weeks. four weeks ago, you told him you wouldn’t be able to fly out to see him at the austin grand prix, like you promised. you sounded exhausted and incredibly guilty when you explained that your course load this semester is extreme, and finals are rapidly approaching. oscar understood; he won’t ask you to sacrifice your education for one of his races, there will be plenty you can come to in the future. what he doesn’t understand is how you’re still functioning. it’s your senior year of university at an american ivy league school, you're pursuing an engineering degree, and you’re also working nearly five days a week as a barista. oscar thinks the last time he’s seen you relaxed is before your fall semester started, you spent your entire summer break with him, making appearances at the only three races you’ve been to this season (silverstone, hungary, and spa). the last time he recalls seeing your smile and hearing your laugh is in august—it’s the end of october now. 

you’ve been ghosting him. oscar wants to believe that it’s unintentional, that it’s just a side effect of the amount of work and pressure on your shoulders—but he can’t accept that. if you were unintentionally missing his calls, facetimes, and texts, you’d spam respond to all of them with a voice message or paragraphs of texts before you went to bed or class. you would send him daily or weekly recap videos of how life is treating you, like you used to do. you would send him stupid videos of you messing around on your shifts during a pause of customers. you would send him thirty reels a day on instagram of brain dead shenanigans with little captions of how you reacted, or if you thought it would make him smile. you would send him fit checks every morning before you went to class, even though your outfit consists of a hoodie and sweatpants. you would send him tiktok edits of himself and tell him that he needs to stop being ‘so hot’ because you almost barked in the middle of class. you would ask him how he’s doing, you would respond to his texts the minute you could even if it's hours late, you would leave him voicemails if he doesn’t pick up, you would make an attempt to communicate. 

except, you haven’t. so, he knows that you ignoring him is intentional, and that your lifestyle right now makes it easier for you to disguise your avoidance of him as accidental. 

you didn’t say ‘i love you’ back. 

“mate, what are you frowning for?” oscar jumps, eyes flying up from the phone screen and meeting lando’s. the brit is staring at him in confusion, the two of them are still in their race suits, tied around their waists. the sprint race ended an hour ago, and they’ve just finished celebrating oscar’s win.

“you’ve won a race, oscar—what could possibly make you sad after that?” lando says teasingly. but, the smile on his face is quick to fade as he must see oscar’s dejected mood.

the australian debates his next move for a moment, before deciding that telling lando isn’t a bad idea; they’ve been getting closer—they’re friends, oscar would say. he sighs, and hands his phone to lando, maybe he’ll tell oscar he’s worrying over nothing.

“oh,” lando says, eyes widening, “i’m sorry, mate.”

oscar brushes off lando’s words, and buries his face in his hands, “she’s pulling away from me. that was five days ago, and she hasn’t answered any of my calls. she’s only responded to my texts since then with one word answers or very dryly. she’s ghosting me.”

oscar feels lando fumbling for words, not needing to look at him to know that the older man has no idea how to go about reassuring oscar.

“look, mate, if it were me i’d go see her anyways.”

oscar huffs, “she literally said she doesn’t have time.”

“oscar,” lando stares at him in disbelief, “she hasn’t seen you in two months. i guarantee she’s probably dying to see you again, fuck whatever time she doesn’t have. she also can’t ghost you, if you see her face to face. you should go and try to fix whatever’s wrong, before you let her slip away.”

“maybe…maybe she’s just burnt out,” oscar suggests shakily, “i’ll go see her after the triple header–i’m probably just overreacting about this. she’ll be back to her usual self in time.”

oscar is enraged. he’s pissed off at his fans for attacking you in a sick twist of ‘defending him,’ ‘protecting him’ and the supposed ‘ownership’ they think they have over him. he’s pissed off at you deciding to ghost him instead of confiding in him about the hate you receive. he’s pissed off that his flight to you has been delayed for four hours. he’s pissed off at his race in brazil, if you can even call what happened a race. he’s pissed off at the fact that you can’t make time to see him before vegas. he’s pissed off that you lied to him about picking up extra shifts at the cafe.

he stalked through your instagram the minute after he was allowed to escape debrief, hunting down your roomates accounts from where you’ve tagged them in an older post. he innocently made a group message to the two girls, figuring it would be kind and proper to inform them of his impending arrival to surprise you. and the two girls you shared an apartment with responded eagerly to his message telling him that you’ve been extremely stressed and almost depressed this semester, and that hopefully his appearance will break through to you in a way they are unable to. oscar asked them if they knew your work schedule for the week, since you never told him when you're working–and learned that you lied. you didn’t accept any extra shifts, matter of fact, you got all of your shifts covered for the next two weeks. apparently, all you have been doing is going to class, working, studying furiously, and crying. when he asks if there’s any reason besides the stress from work and school that has you crying, the girls decline to speak for you, and strongly suggest that he asks you himself when he arrives. 

oscar’s no longer pissed at you for lying to him or for ghosting him–he’s hurt, but, he already understands your motive. you don’t want to worry him, so you bottle it up and distance yourself to not make him aware of how you're struggling. he won’t let you carry the weight of the world on your shoulders alone anymore, he’s going to see you and he’s going to take care of you, and then he’ll sort out the ignorant people on the internet.

when he’s at your apartment, you’ll be coming home from your last shift before your time off. and then, once he has you in his arms, he can make everything right again.

your hands are shaking; a result from the mix of stress and exhaustion that has been plaguing you for a few weeks. it takes you four and a half attempts to unlock the front door to your apartment—this is an improvement, yesterday it took you six times. a trembling sigh of relief exits your lungs as you shut the front door, triple checking that you lock the door properly. you remove all of your outerwear and slip out of your shoes, half-heartedly making an attempt to neatly place them in the organizer you have by the door. (you fail to register how there’s only two pairs of shoes stored away; yours and a pair of shoes that look too big to be one of the girls you live with—the usual sneakers the girls wear are nowhere to be seen.) you grunt as you tenderly put on your backpack and slowly make your way into the kitchen, off-handedly murmuring a “hi,” in the direction of the living room since you can hear the tv playing, but you don’t even spare a glance to see which roommate it is—you can’t stomach anymore human interaction today.

your walk is more of a waddle; your legs and feet are sore from working nine-hour shifts five days in a row, and also from going to class four out of those five days. you place your backpack on the small island, and continue to gently meander towards the fridge. your stomach aches at the thought of food—which is unfortunate, considering you’ve only had one meal today. regardless, you will shove a sandwich down your throat, you need the energy if you’re going to study for three hours before you go to bed. 

you pause before you open the fridge, a note is stuck on the door with a magnet. your roommates are gone; the two girls have spontaneously decided to go spend the weekend with their boyfriends—you’re not going to complain, you have the apartment to yourself. a brief wave of loneliness washes over you, you were kind of looking forward to venting about the week you had to the girls in the morning, and also, couldn’t they have texted you this earlier today? who leaves old-fashioned notes on the fridge anymore? you pull out your phone to send a text in your group chat wishing them a nice weekend, and see that they did, in fact, text you that they would be gone—three days ago. and, you never responded, because you never saw it. you shrug, and send the text anyways, you’ve been incredibly busy and you’re bound to miss a few texts (especially the eighteen texts from oscar that remain unopened). 

you're just going through a little bit of a slump, and you’ve had a bad day. you accidentally messed up three orders today (out of the hundred you fulfilled, so three isn’t really terrible), your running off of four hours of sleep (you’re more energized when you sleep less, anyways), and a customer accidentally bumped into you as you were walking to bring coffee to a table, causing the hot liquid to spill and burn a little spot on the back of your hand by your thumb. well, you know it wasn’t purely accidental, as the girl giggled to the group of friends she was with after she “bumped” into you. based on the way she was wearing a mclaren hoodie, you can make several guesses as to why she did it—you’re kind of shocked that she noticed you even though you wear a mask at work (you have for about a month, too many fans have noticed who you are), her hate for a relationship that’s not hers should be studied for science. 

incidents like these have made your coworkers start to…dislike you. the decrease in tips when you’re assigned to the register causes you to be forced to be hidden behind coffee machines the entire shift, only making drinks the entire nine hours you’re there. it’s better for you though, at least you can have a physical barrier blocking the prying eyes you feel are judging you the entire time. if anything, the recent atmosphere at work made you want to put in your two weeks—but, you have bills to pay. you’re just glad you managed to find a way to get two weeks off so you can focus on school and prepare for your exams—you can’t afford to fail, it’ll cost your scholarship and then you’ll need more than the job you have right now to finish school.

the buzzing of your phone pulls you back to the present—oscar’s calling. you squeeze your eyes shut for a few seconds, before you blink and silence the ringer. if you speak to him, you won’t be able to hide your troubles from him any longer; he reads you as easily as a kid’s picture book. he definitely doesn’t need to deal with your problems after whatever the hell happened in brazil. the noise of your phone startled you into a new thought, however. if the girls aren’t in the apartment, why the fuck is the tv on? who did you greet when you walked past the main room without a glance?

“i was calling to tell you that i’ve got takeout from the asian restaurant you like, if you’re looking for something to eat,” oscar says gently.

it’s a testament to how extremely exhausted you are: you don’t scream, you don’t fight, you don’t run—you just flinch slightly, and turn around slowly to face your boyfriend…the man you’ve been avoiding for nearly a month. at the sight of him (his fluffy hair, his soft sweater, the confused and concerned glint in his eyes) your lip starts quivering, and your eyes start watering. oscar’s gaze softens into something sweet yet empathic, and he says, “i know it’s been a while since we’ve last talked, but i didn’t think you’d cry at the sight of me.”

you burst into tears with a sob, and in a second oscar’s got you wrapped up in his arms, one hand soothingly massaging your back, while the other cradles your head on his shoulder. your borderline hyperventilating, your tears have started to soak his sweater, and you’re sniffling every two seconds to avoid getting snot on him too. oscar doesn’t try to quiet your tears, he doesn’t ask about what’s making you cry, he doesn’t even try to tell you that everything will be fine—he just holds you as you cry it out and presses kisses into your hair. eventually, the flow of tears dries and you focus on pulling in shaky breaths of air to calm down. oscar switches to holding you to his chest with one arm while he uses the free one to reach across the counter and grab a tissue. wordlessly, he wipes the wetness off your cheeks and under-eyes, he even uses another tissue to wipe your nose, clearing away the snot that managed to escape. you almost start crying again at the tender treatment and the matching look in his eyes, but you muster enough strength to keep the happy tears from falling over the waterline. 

oscar nods once, deeming his cleanup complete, and clears his throat, “i’m going to heat up the food. then, we’ll eat and you’ll tell me what’s wrong and if that has anything to do with why you’re ignoring me.”

there’s no attempt from you to keep the façade up any longer, all you do is nod and step to the side so he can grab the food from the fridge.

oscar has already cleared his plate and you’re still picking through half of yours. the two of you are sitting on opposite ends of the couch, teen wolf is playing on a low volume, and your eyes are tunneled on the screen even though oscar can see that you’re not paying attention at all. one of the characters is screaming about having to get his arm cut off (stiles, probably) and suddenly you start talking to oscar.

“it’s been a shit semester. if i wasn’t graduating in spring, i honestly think i would’ve dropped out or taken a gap-year. and, i knew what i signed up for as an engineering major, and i knew that working was only going to add more on my plate—but, it’s not like i can quit my job, i have bills to pay. so, juggling school and work is difficult, and i was managing fine. but, i guess i made the mistake of scrolling through twitter—which is truly my fault i think—and everyone on the internet was calling me a ‘terrible girlfriend’,” oscar watches you scoff out a choked laugh, “and, i obviously didn’t believe i was. in the beginning, at least. i mean, it’s like they expected me to be at every race by your side, like i’m not working my way through a hellscape of a degree. i watched every practice session, qualifying, and race—they’re literally the only hours i don’t spend studying or working. i brag about you to everybody who would listen, i missed hours of sleep just to speak to you on the phone for five minutes, i work as hard as i can so i can finish this degree early so i can be with you as early as possible, and they say that you deserve a better girlfriend.”

you pause and rub at your eyes furiously, mouth opening and closing as you take time to find the words to continue. oscar quiets the flare of anger at your distress, and stays silent, not wanting to interrupt your speech, this is the most you’ve said to him in a month.

“the thing is: i-i i let their words get to me. i think it’s because i was being kicked while i was down—or whatever the phrase is. i was already mentally exhausted, and i already believe that i’m not doing my best this year, i’m disappointing everybody who knows me, i’m a shit student—and just seeing everybody agree, even though they’re just randoms on the internet, tore me down. i even deleted all of the apps off my phone,” your voice has shifted into something desperate, “so i couldn’t see what they were saying about me anymore, but it’s like once i saw it, it never left my mind. i feel like everybody is staring at me with condescending eyes, like they all think i’m terrible. and, logically, i know that’s probably not true. but, this semester has pushed me past the point of being able to rationalize properly. so as a result, i have become a ‘terrible girlfriend’ to you; like a twisted self-fulfilling prophecy.

“i avoid your calls, i leave you on delivered for days, i respond with one word, i lie to my friends and say i was up all night talking to you on the phone when i was really crying and studying at the same time, i hold back from bursting into tears in the middle of my shifts when one of your ‘fangirls’ spills their drink over me for the third time. and while doing all of this, i was hoping you’d do the hard part and just break up with me,” your voice rings out sharply and you refuse to look at your boyfriend, afraid to see the look on his face.

“because…” you whimper slightly, tongue flicking out to lick at your lips anxiously, “you do deserve a better girlfriend.”

oscar is lost for words at your conclusion; seeing you, one of the strongest women he knows break down, is a sight he never imagined. a sense of guilt builds within him, knowing that he’s added to the deprecating thoughts in your brain by postponing this intervention for weeks. you may think that he deserves someone better, but he hasn’t been the best to you either recently. if oscar was half the man you think he is, he would’ve never allowed you to avoid him in the first place. oscar stands up, collects your plate and his, and places them on the coffee table. he turns and drops to his knees in front of you, resting his hands on your thighs, and squeezes them gently to grab your attention. it takes a minute, but eventually you allow your eyes to fall to meet his, and oscar breaks further at the lack of light in your eyes.

“i think,” oscar starts quietly, “that you expect me to break up with you and leave—am i guessing correctly?”

you blink down at him and shrug, biting your lip to prevent it from quivering.

“i also think, that if i flew all this way to see you, and that if i listened to your heartbreaking recollection of how this semester and how the world has been incredibly unkind to you, and that if i sat here and still broke up you—it’s not me that deserves a better girlfriend; it’s you that deserves a better boyfriend.”

stunned, you stumble over your disagreement, but oscar steadfastly continues.

“you did the right thing by deleting your socials—and that would explain why all three hundred of the reels i’ve sent you have gone unseen,” he laughs lightly, “and even if their words took root, you prevented yourself from being able to see more of it every time you used your phone; so even if my pride is not needed, i am proud of you for doing that. i’m even more proud that you sat here and told me that you aren’t doing well, that you didn’t make an attempt to lie, and that i didn’t have to force you to tell me,” oscar says seriously, holding steady eye contact with you to make sure you're hearing him.

“i wish that you would have mentioned the hate you’re receiving as soon as it started, and that you would have told me your mental health was suffering too. you know i do everything in my power to avoid reading anything with my name in it unless it’s a credible article—so imagine my surprise, when i learned about what people were saying about you through a twitter thread logan, of all people texted me about,” you snort out a laugh at the feigned disdain in oscar’s voice when he mentions the american driver. 

“you know i have no issues embarrassing people on the internet for their incorrect claims—and i’d especially tear them to shreds for trying to drag you down. we’ve been together too long for you not to come to me about things like this, even if it’s something that mildly upsets you—i want to know, because then i can make it better, or i can at least try to. you haven’t complained to me about the grueling lifestyle once, as i worked my way up to f1; if anybody could be perfect, it would be you. so, let me try to be as perfect as you, and support you properly and thoroughly as you finish up this degree, baby.

“we’re soulmates, aren’t we?” it’s a question, but oscar states it like a fact, “and i know i can’t magically make the self-loathing disappear with one conversation, but i'll tell you that you’re the best girlfriend i’ve ever had countless times, until you believe me unquestionably.”

oscar watches your nose scrunch cutely as you sniffle, unable to stop the tears that leak from the corners of your eyes. sweetly, he catches them with his thumb before they fall. he stands up and tugs you to your feet, pulling you into a tight, warm hug. 

“i love you, kanga,” oscar coos as he kisses your forehead.

“i love you the most, roo,” you answer back, leaning up to press a kiss to the corner of his lips.

“i’ve bought some lavender epsom salt and an embarrassing amount of bath bombs. will you let me take care of you tonight?” oscar asks quietly.

he sees the mix of awed-disbelief and confusion as you stare up at him, like you can’t imagine why he’d want to love you tenderly tonight, and that hurts him more—the words of his ‘fans’ online have done enough damage to cause you to doubt him. maybe he can convince you to come to vegas with him so he can keep you close, but first, he needs to focus on caring for you here and now.

oscar grabs his duffle bag and smiles as you hold his hand to lead him to your room and the attached bathroom (rent is ridiculously expensive, but at least you don’t have to share a bathroom with your roommates.) oscar sends you to grab pajamas while he starts filling the tub, epsom salt already poured in. he fiddles with the temperature for a while before it’s set to the boiling-your-skin-off hot you enjoy. by the time you join him in the bathroom, he’s added the salts and soap in the water and has placed the bath bombs out for you to choose one. oscar can’t help the small smile that rises to his face at the sight of the serious furrow of your brow as you pick out your favorite from the bunch. 

oscar hums as you hand him the jade-infused bath bomb, and asks, “can i wash your hair too? or will it mess up your schedule?”

“i actually really need to wash it,” you murmur with a humorless chuckle, “i’ve been so busy that i haven’t been taking care of my hair properly.”

oscar blinks and continues non-judgmentally, “i’ll give you an extra scalp massage to make up for that—you can start getting undressed now, the water’s nearly ready.”

he turns around awkwardly, he’s seen you naked before but he feels like it would be slightly perverse to watch you while you’re clearly in a more sensitive state tonight. he fumbles with the faucet for a few seconds before turning it off, and drops the bath bomb into the water so it can start dispersing. oscar faces you again carefully making sure he avoids staring at your body and locks eyes with you, he beckons you forward with an outstretched hand and holds your hand as you submerge yourself in the water. once you’re settled comfortably, oscar grabs your hair products (he holds up any bottle he thinks you may not want to use tonight, and you give him a thumbs up or down to decide), and then kneels at your side.

he starts to roll up the sleeves of the hoodie but your hand halts his motions, the water splashing loudly at the quickness of your movement, “you’re not getting in with me?”

“uh,” oscar stutters, “i-i wasn’t planning on it. i just wanted to give you a nice bath.”

oscar pinkens as you stare at him wordlessly and when your unimpressed gaze shifts to a slight glare, he finds himself shedding his clothes and sinking in behind you at an impressive speed. 

his heart began to race as the two of you shifted into as comfortable of a position you could achieve in a too-small tub, but calmed at your pleased hum as you settled between his legs with your back resting on his chest. this may be the most romantic experience oscar has ever indulged in. sure, it’s not a candlelit dinner at an obnoxiously expensive restaurant but, it’s him detangling your hair, it’s him massaging shampoo into your crown, it’s him scratching softly along your scalp as the deep conditioner sits, it’s you playing with the water innocently, it’s you whispering every detail of your life that he’s missed out on, it’s you gently directing him through braiding your hair, and it’s him pressing kisses to your shoulder when he finishes. there isn’t a single moment where the two of you become unsettled during lapses of silence; the intimacy of his actions is loud enough to fill the gaps. oscar can’t imagine ever being this comfortable with anybody besides you, he hates that he almost allowed you to pull completely away from him. moments like these, where you allow yourself to be thoughtlessly vulnerable with him, are exactly why he’s completely enamored with you.

your body has loosened against him, muscles syrupy and lax from the effects of a toe-curling scalp massage, and oscar gently guides you to sit upright while steadying most of your weight with a single hand splayed against your abdomen. the sound of the cap of your body wash clicking open startles you into the present, and you shift around to straddle his lap. it’s amusing; he inaudibly chuckles at the sight of you struggling to complete your change of position without sending water over the edge. you make a triumphant noise when you’ve managed to turn around to face him, and oscar’s hands cradle your hips when you rest on his lap. 

“can i–”

“shouldn’t you–”

oscar bursts into laughter and you into giggles, at the interruption of each other's sentences. it’s definitely not that funny, but oscar’s heart skips a beat at the sound of your laugh–he hasn’t heard that sweet noise in what feels like forever. he motions for you to speak, ever the gentleman, and eagerly awaits for our question with a smile still stretched across his lips.

“shouldn’t you fuck me before we wash up? so we don’t have to clean up twice?”

oscar chokes on his breath, his grip on you tightening in surprise, and he babbles, “what? no-i mean, yes, i mean—wait. i didn’t do all of this just to have sex with you, you know that right? i genuinely just wanted to pamper you–”

“oscar,” you cut him off, intentionally this time around, “after the semester i’ve had, and the less than kind words i’ve heard and thoughts i’ve had describing myself–i really do appreciate the bath, i feel reminded that you love me. however, i really think that having sex would help…solidify your devotion for me.”

oscar blinks up at you, he wasn’t quite expecting you to return to your normal sassy behavior as quickly as you did. but, he is thankful that you’ve opened up to him with no further hesitation–it’s actually incredibly attractive of you, how you’ve resumed complete comfortability in expressing exactly what you want to him. at least, that’s the excuse he’s telling himself to cope with being half-hard already.

“...at least let me take you to bed, then?”

“no,” you whine down at him, your hips sneakily twitching forward, oscar moans lightly at the light grind, “too far! saves time later if we don’t have to come back to shower.”

“you’re right,” oscar hums distractedly, moving his right hand off your waist to slip between your thighs and brush along your cunt, “i’ll fuck you here as long as you let me do all of the work.”

oscar’s blood heats at the sound of your whimpering moan and he takes his other hand off your waist to grab at your chin and he pulls you down for a kiss.

oscar groans when you pause before your lips touch his, and he feels the breath of your giggle ghost over his mouth, “mmm, i’ll never say no to that—and, didn’t i agree to let you take care of me tonight?” 

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[russellsppttemplates]

I'm right here! (Oscar Piastri)

People seem to forget you're dating Oscar

Note: english is not my first language. Another Oscar piece 🫶

Thank you so much to everyone who likes and reblogs, your feedback is appreciated 🤍 and I'm taking requests so if you have any ideas or concepts you want to share, feel free to do so as I'll try to get to them the best I can!

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Cw: jealous themes

Tag list: @myloverjk-blog @hiireadstuff @c-losur3

"Do you think this will translate as well on the track though?", Phil, the head of the engineering department, asked as you showed him the latest set of data.

"Even with the interval we've set for changes, these numbers show it could improve performance, especially in race pace", you pointed to the calculations on the side.

"We would only have it for Miami, though", he reasoned, "we don't have enough time to get this done for Shanghai and I don't think it would be wise to test this in a track we haven't raced in five years", Amelia argued as you nodded in agreement, "but it looks promising - good job, Y/N", she patted your back.

"Would you feel comfortable talking about it in the meeting with Zak, Andrea and the mechanics? You have been the one working the most with this, makes sense for you to be the one taking point. Lando and Oscar should join you as well - I think they're doing something on the Sim", William mused.

"Absolutely! Yes, Oscar said he was driving a new set up and strategy Tom also wants to discuss in the meeting", you offered with a smile.

"Having insider information makes this easier - I don't have to check every single e-mail and wonder about things, especially Oscar's schedule", Amelia chuckled, rubbing your shoulder before she got up.

As everyone gathered in the meeting room, you set your laptop up so the latest data would be seen by everyone as you spoke about the changes, "we don't think nor expect this will be ready for China, but we're hoping to have the new package in Miami already - gives us enough time to work on it and the track there is ideal for us to have an idea of how this could play out for the rest of the season", you concluded.

"I agree - I think China will be damage control racing and we're accepting it as it goes", Andrea stated.

"We just need to get going with these then and also get the guys to try it out on the- Oh! Speaking of the devil", Zak chuckled as Oscar and Lando stepped inside the meeting room.

"So that's that, I think - thank you for all your work and let's hope we can bring some points next weekend", the British driver said before everyone scattered out.

Closing your laptop and getting your tablet, you held them against your torso so you could go and set them back to your station before lunch. You didn't make it very far as Oscar stood just outside the room, his hand snaking up your back carefully as he didn't want to startle you.

"Good morning, love", he smiled, kissing your cheek and walking with you.

"Morning, Osc", you kissed his cheek back, "how was training?", you wondered.

"Same old - went for a run this time, though, it was nice enough outside", your boyfriend offered as you reached your desk, tidying it a little bit before leaving to get some lunch, walking hand in hand.

You didn't expect to fall for a driver, especially after the relationship you had with Lando. You behaved like siblings, often pranking eachother, and it had helped you grow more confident around him and the senior staff when you felt you were all but a small intern. Over the years, you grew more comfortable as your ideas and pitches would get considered and tested, finally feeling like your place was well earned and that at the right time, the development would come to bring McLaren to the top where it belonged.

When Oscar joined the team, however, you didn't expect to feel the way you felt about the Australian driver. He was handsome, very shy and very kind and thoughtful as he sat all through the meetings as you explained the changes. Jeopardising your career was something you didn't want to do, but after some not so careful touches and glances, the team assured you it wouldn't be an issue in case you and Oscar were to pursue a relationship together.

"Here's my favourite team-mate! And she brought Oscar with her!", Lando joked as you sat at the same table as him.

Swatting his neck playfully, you sat down next to him so you could face Oscar as he put his tray down, "I will revoke new updates package from you and you'll be stuck in the midfield", you taunted before you started eating.

"Do you want to spend the night at my place? I need to sort a few things out still this afternoon, but I'm hoping I can leave on time today", you squinted your eyes.

"What do you mean on time?", Lando quirked an eyebrow.

"Yesterday, she got so caught up in the calculations, I barely got a text out of her when I asked her if she wanted to have dinner with me", Oscar chuckled as you held hands on top of the table, playing with his fingers, "what was it you texted me? 'I'm having a breakthrough' I think it was", your boyfriend offered.

"I did, though! Amelia checked it over and we might be onto something - I have to go to Race Base this afternoon so they can check them out", you shrugged your shoulders."We're spending the whole afternoon in the sim", Oscar checked with you, "when you get off, then we can leave together - how does that sound?".

Coming back to your place after you stopped by the supermarket, you set the bag on the counter and pulled out all of the ingredients you bought to make sure the dinner would be suitable and appropriate to Oscar's plan.

"I haven't had a proper cuddle today", Oscar pulled you to him, beggining to litter kisses on your forehead all the way to your cheeks and jaw, "I can't ever do this at the center", he mumbled against your neck, tickling you.

"We could, just where there are no other team members", you giggled before cupping his cheeks, "which happens to be nowhere most of the time", before you kissed his lips.

"I'm going to start working on the chicken", Oscar said after you stole a few kisses, "are you going to be in the Center for the race?".

"No, I'm travelling with the team", you smiled as you took the fresh pasta out of the bag, "which means we can spend more time together - and people will actually see us together", you mumbled the last part.

"People know we're together, love", he smiled, cutting up the last bit of garlic and tossing it in the pan.

"Sometimes it doesn't seem like it - they didn't see me in Jeddah and the rumours flew out of control", you wiped your hands on the kitchen towell before hugging Oscar's back, resting your cheek between his shoulder blades.

"You know how the media works - they see the smallest hint to something they want to see and then they're there", he offered, taking one of his hands to squeeze your hip, "you're the one here, aren't you?", he tsked.

.

"Where are you going?", Oscar asked as he saw you grab a tablet and push the chair back under the table, "I thought we could have some time together now".

"The stewards picked out eight cars at random to get checked over a few components - Mike and Barry are waiting for me", you offered, pecking his lips quickly, "hopefully they're just not messing around with our schedule because everything is supposed to be how it is!", you smiled before you started to walk out.

"I'll go with you, then", your boyfriend assured, "can't have you go to the wolves on your own when you can have company, beautiful".

Oscar walked up to the building with you, kissing your temple before you stepped inside, "I left some data from the sprint for you to look at, and tell Lando I also left a file for him with his tire deg - I told Will to do it, but he might forget!", you alerted before letting him go.

Knowing how long it would take, he went back to the McLaren garage, stopping whenever fans snapped a couple of pictures or autographs.

By the time you were back in the hotel room after the sprint and qualifying, Oscar went to the bathroom so he could have a shower, leaving you to lay on the bed and scroll through social media.

You looked at the photos the media team had posted, along with the stories where you could spot yourself in the background and spotted a few comments as you flicked through the carrousel of pictures, the comments under it weren't something you hadn't seen before.

Hear me out, Oscar and Elaine are the perfect match

I know, right? 😭 honestly, they need to get together! They would be so cute together

She's so polite and put together, but I get rhe vibe that she's really shy too, they would be perfect for eachother

Are we forgetting Y/N? aka Oscar's girlfriend

I still can't believe the people at the top have let their engineer date a driver

Y/N's way too out there, I call PR relationship

She couldn't even build a great car, I'm not sure why you would defend her

She was literally the reason the car and the turnaround last year and we started getting podiums?

These have been the best 12 months in terms of development, what are you on about? Just because she's with Oscar, you can't dig at her like that

The last few comments don't come up too often, but you had to admit it was nice when they did even if they did nothing to the way you felt.

The green eyed monster took over more times that you'd like. You work with numbers, probabilities and direct correlations, so it was hard to miss the reason behind how you were feeling.

"Why are you looking at your phone like that? You promised you wouldn't work once we got back to the room", Oscar warned, using the towell to dry his hair before he looked at you again.

"I'm not working", you mumbled, locking the phone and setting it on your stomach, pondering whether or not you should talk to Oscar about this.

"That long silence tells me that there is something bothering you", Oscar began, "I'm not saying you have to talk about it right now - I won't force you to -, but I'm here for you when you want to do it", he offered earnestly.

"I'm jealous of you and Elaine", you stated, earning a quirked eyebrow from your boyfriend.

"Me and Elaine? The communications' intern?", he looked for some clarification.

"Yes!", you answered loudly.

"We don't - I don't even spend that much time with her, what do you mean?", Oscar asked.

"I know you don't, but people online seem to think you should! First, it was that actress that McLaren invited for Abu Dhabi - the weekend where Natalie and Naomi kept approaching us because they wanted to chat and there was actual visual proof we were together after all the rumours -, now they're saying how you should go out with Elaine!", you admitted, "they're all saying you really should have someone and that she should be the one to go, that she has all the qualities you should look for and I-", you took a big breath in, "I'm literally over there, every single day of the races - in the garage, sometimes in the pitwall!", you stated, "I barely do any races from the Center anymore, so it's not like people forgot that I exist!".

"Love, I'd never do that to you - you're the only person I care about like that", Oscar replied instantly.

"I know you don't, but it hurts to see", you admitted, "comments people make about my boyfriend and how he really should start dating someone when our relationship is public - I'm there, I see them, they see me!", you let a tear fall down your cheek, "there's only so much I can do to make it obvious, Osc!".

Oscar sat down next to you on the bed, throwing the towell on the floor for the moment so he could pull you to face him.

"Y/N, I didn't know it was bothering you so much, I don't even notice all of that", your boyfriend craddled your face in his hands, thumbs wiping the tears that continued to fall and looking into your eyes.

"I never told you and I know you don't read all of the comments", you reasoned, "I just thought it would stop at some point! Everyone keeps saying that you should have someone and I want them to think I'm that someone - because I am!", you said bitterly.

"Is there something you'd like me to do? That would make you feel better about it?", Oscar combed your bangs away and behind your ears.

"What can we do anyway? Have you walk around with a t-shirt that says "I have a girlfriend - Y/N, the engineer"?", you scoffed.

"I will do that if you think it will help - throw in a headband with "Y/N's boyfriend" too if it helps!", he tried to pry a smile out of you.

"Don't be silly", you playfully shoved his chest before holding his hands in yours, "I honestly have no idea what to do, but I know I want it to stop without putting our jobs on the line", you pouted.

"Maybe an Instagram post from us then? Something chilled but serious enough so anyone can get the hint - and I wouldn't mind arriving into the paddock with you in the morning", your boyfriend suggested.

"Oscar, I have to be there way earlier than you need to", you argued.

"Then I'll be there earlier, I'll have breakfast there with you and we'll spend more time together in front of everyone - as much as you feel comfortable with", Oscar offered you an assuring smile, "I don't want anyone else the way I want you, I don't love anyone the way I love you, Y/N".

Smiling at the honesty and safety he was transmitting you, you kissed his lips, starting with small pecks before one last long kiss, letting your foreheads touch as you pulled away, "thank you, Osc, I love you".

The next morning, reporters were surprised when they saw the McLaren driver show up in the paddock so early, his hand laced in yours as they asked a couple of questions.

"My girlfriend had to come in earlier, so I thought I'd join her and see a little bit of the preparations", Oscar replied before you continued to walk to the McLaren hospitality.

"Is it bring your boyfriend to work day?", Anna asked after her usual morning greeting.

"He's always with me at work though", you squinted before giggling, "but I really need people to know he's mine and that I'm here!", you half joked.

[caesium-55]

—seven days. [ v ]

pairing: max verstappen x manager! reader.

summary: as the third time world champion, max verstappen's manager, you function on the belief that whatever max verstappen wanted, max verstappen shall get. but this time, after four years of working as his manager, you can't give him what he wants anymore and that was to stay.

author's note: sorry it took a while compared to the other chapters. i finished up my lab reports in my surveying class. this is not edited nor is it beta read and i dont remember much on what happened during the 2018-2021 seasons so pardon me if there are inaccuracies. anyways, welcome to max's pov. u can say im stalling on the shitshow that will happen once max discovers that reader resigned. lemme know what you think.

tags: @whatamidoingwithmylife-ramdom @eugene-emt-roe @bellezaycafe @barnestatic @theseerbetweenus @wcnorris @notyouraveragemochii @lpab @vildetry06 @a-beaverhausen @formula1mount @loloekie @alucardsdaddyissues @juky-ps @cassianswh0reeee @devotedlycrookeddonut @amberpanda99 @supermaxv1

masterlist.

2018

“Who’s that?”

Daniel looks up, cheeks stuffed with the sandwich he was eating for lunch, “Who?”

Max cringes internally. His mother always told him and Victoria to not talk when his mouth was full, she called it bad manners, and now, he is understanding where she was coming from with those lectures. Nevertheless, he doesn't reprimand Daniel. Instead, he gestures to the girl standing a few meters away from their table in the Red Bull hospitality staff cafeteria, who was happily chatting with two Red Bull senior engineers whom Max recognizes to be Elijah Stuart and Richard Fox.

It is the first time Max has seen her. A new employee perhaps? Perhaps not. She lacks the company standard uniform.

Daniel trails his line of sight to where Max has pointed, “Which one? Richard?”

“No,” Max groans. Daniel blinks.

“Elijah?”

This is quickly becoming annoying.

“The girl, Daniel,” Max says, his exasperation bleeding through his words. “She’s not wearing a Red Bull polo.”

Daniel’s brows rise to his hairline, head snapping back to Max, “[Name]?”

Then, a shit-eating grin erupts on his lips. “Are you interested in her?”

“She’s not my type,” Max’s denial comes quickly. Is it even considered denial if it’s the truth? In his twenty almost twenty-one years being alive, Max never really put a lot of time into thinking about what his ideal type would look like. But he is sure that the woman of his dreams will look very far from the woman who was successful in catching his attention because you are wearing a black shirt in a sea of Red Bull polo shirts.

You with your eyes that forms into tiny crescent moons once your face breaks into a grin, you with your smile that shows too much gums and too much teeth, you with your hands that moves too much when you talk, and you with that too loud and too obnoxious laugh that comes even with the lamest of jokes. You’re like Daniel in a way. All happy sunshine vibes.

Max is watching you close, observing how you were interacting with Richard and Elijah. They're old men and no one should look this happy while talking to boring, old, white men, who worked more than four decades in the engineering industry so they only know how to speak boomer language and everything engineering. Surprisingly, Elijah and Richard seem to be having fun talking to you. A miracle on its own because they never even look that happy talking to Daniel Ricciardo and everybody in Red Bull Racing adores sunshine honey badger, Daniel Ricciardo.

“I didn't say anything.”

“You're thinking about it.”

“How would you know what I’m thinking?”

“Because you’re currently on a quest to erase my singledom. I can put two and two together.”

Daniel snorts, crossing his arms over his chest, “Maybe I just want to let you meet new friends.”

“I have enough friends.”

“You don't have friends that are not racers.”

Max presses his lips in a thin line.

“She’s my manager, by the way.” says Daniel, leaning back into his seat.

“What happened to Nick?”

“He’s on leave,” Daniel says. “His wife’s giving birth soon. She’s my temporary manager for a few months. Or I don't know, maybe the whole season.”

Max brows rise in pleasant surprise but says nothing.

“Now that I think about it, she’s around your age. How old are you again? Twenty-two?”

“Twenty,” Max corrects. His birthday is still months away from pre-season. On the end of September.

“Ah, she's older than you. Oh wait, here she comes. Hey, [Name]! Here!”

Max flinches and his heart begins ramming against his ribs erratically that he thinks he’ll undergo cardiac arrest in a matter of seconds. He does a double take—why am I even panicking?—then forces himself to calm down and straightens up in his seat. His shoulders and neck are still considerably stiff and his palms are slowly becoming sweaty. He swallows an invisible stone in his throat.

“¡Hola mi amiga, [Name]!” Daniel greets and his Spanish accent sounds off that it makes [Name], who stopped right in front of their table, giggle and when Max looks up at her through his lashes, it almost feels like the world is turning too rapidly on its axis and it’s making Max dizzy. Daniel and her do a friendly handshake—when did they reach this level of friendship?

“Hola, Daniel,” she greets, smiling. Your accent reminds Max of Carlos, but unlike Carlos, who possesses a very distinct Spanish accent, yours sounded subtler than his and it's mixed with the charming rhythm of words that reminds Max of sunsets in the south. You pronounce Daniel’s name like it has two syllables instead of three. Dan-yel instead of Dan-i-el. Suddenly, Max is curious as to how his name will sound if it originates from her mouth, how the syllables will roll off her tongue. Max will still sound like Max. Nobody will mispronounce that name. But Emilian and Verstappen? How will you say it?

“Hi Max.”

The Max sounds plain even though you’re smiling when you greet him. She didn't say Max the same way she said Daniel, whose name was uttered with a certain fondness.

“Hello,” Max’s chin dips slightly into a nod.

“Eat with us,” Daniel invites and he is already dragging a chair from a nearby table to their table before Max can fully register what he’s doing.

“You sure?” you ask, brows raising slightly at Daniel’s abrupt invitation.

Daniel waves his hand dismissively, “Yeah, yeah, Max wouldn't mind. Would you, Max?”

Suddenly, two pairs of eyes are on him and his throat feels dry. He cannot speak. No words leave his mouth. Empty brain, zero thoughts. In the end, he nods and you join the two for lunch.

Max frequently sees you following Daniel in the paddock. You remind him of a dog. No, even dogs do not follow their owners this much. Or do they? Max wouldn't know. He is a cat person anyway.

Max’s main point is this: not even the other racers’ managers follow them around this much. Not even Max’s manager follows him this much. (No one tell Max that this was due to the fact that he scares his own manager. Imagine a middle-aged man scared of a Dutch racer half his age with anger issues.) But you follow Daniel around like he is the sun and you are planet Earth and you need to be constantly revolving around him to achieve universal balance. And for some reason, your actions cause something odd to stir up in Max. He is annoyed. Of what? Maybe because you are so good to Daniel? Maybe he wants someone to be like that for him, too? His manager is not as proactive as you. Yeah, maybe that’s it.

And if you are not with Daniel, which is a rare occurrence, you’re hovering around the Red Bull mechanics. You even go as far as bringing them coffee in the mornings and that annoys Max even more. Daniel, he can understand if you brought him coffee, but the others? No. You don't even bring Christian Horner coffee. Why only them?

Whatever.

You are such a suck up. Max hates suck ups.

Baku 2018 was a bad race, a total nightmare for everyone in the team. The moment Max got out of that car, he was burning. Figuratively, at least. The engine of the RB14 is the one burning, in a literal sense. Horner is red in the face when he sees Max and Daniel, and he yells at them to cool down before they do the formal stuff of apologizing and dealing with the FIA and all the formalities that Max rather thinks are bullshit.

“What are you doing here?” he asks, his voice raising, when he sees you approaching. “Aren't you supposed to be with Daniel?”

“Water?” you offer the water bottle to him and Max knows full well it’s supposed to be for Daniel. Max saw you offering it to Daniel earlier when the two of them stepped into the Red Bull garage after retiring from the race but the older man has declined your offer before stomping off somewhere else to cool down.

“No.”

He is not going to take the scraps of someone else, even though he is thirsty as hell.

You nod, shrugging your shoulders and saying, “Okay.”

You crouch on the floor and put the water bottle in front of him with a neatly folded face towel balancing on top of it. Then, you rise and walk away, leaving Max to glare at your back as you fade away from his view. Once you disappeared from his line of sight, he drags his gaze back to the water bottle and towel.

He drinks the water and then uses the towel to wipe his sweat. At that moment, Max decides that he will never allow himself to be beaten by Daniel ever again.

Max remembers the anger he feels when he discovers the news of Daniel leaving Red Bull.

“Was this because of Baku?!”

Daniel tries to explain his situation as calmly as he can but Max is all fire and flames and fury. He is only hearing Daniel’s words, not listening to them because all that he registers are the words “leaving” and “Renault” and “goodbye” and the rest are all just a bunch of ringing noise. Max knows where Daniel is coming from because he isn't dumb nor naive and he is aware that he is quickly becoming the team favorite, but did Daniel really need to leave?

Daniel’s leaving, Daniel’s leaving, Daniel’s leaving. He’ll have no friends left on the team.

Max’s fear of being left behind is often masqueraded as anger. The thing about Max is that his pain always turns to anger and his anger turns into violence.

He barely registers what he has done to Daniel until he sees his teammate—former teammate—on the floor, eyes wide and clutching his cheek. Max’s fist trembles. They are both horrified at what Max has done.

“Daniel, I—”

“What the fuck is wrong with you, man?!” Daniel scrambles to a stand and lunges at Max. Max fears he’s going to get punched, too, and maybe he deserves it because he is the one who has thrown his fist first, but [Name] appears, quick as lightning, and rushes in between Daniel and Max.

“Daniel, calm down.”

Max is surprised you can hold Daniel down on your own. Daniel was a racer, had been since 2011, so he possessed the physical strength of a veteran racer and you, well, you're not. You’re shorter than them both, too.

Daniel is turning red in the face and fury paints his features. Max wants to fight, answer Daniel’s anger with his own. Fire to fire. Let them both burn until they achieve ruination.

“Nick!” you cry and at the call of his name, Nick appears quickly. “Hold Daniel!”

Your hands clutch Max’s nape and forearm and you quickly drag him away from the furious Daniel, leaving Nick to hold Daniel off and calm him down.

His ears are still ringing. Even after he's dragged away from the chaos. Even after he's brought into an empty room. Even after he sits down on a plush chair, face scarily blank while his mind runs for miles.

The ringing sound disappears when you tap his shoulder and asks, “You okay, big boy?”

His brain becomes a blank slate.

Max nods hesitantly, “Yeah.”

His knuckles are still tingling. He can still feel the remnants of the violence of his fist, can still feel the sting when his knuckles met Daniel’s cheek.

“Injuries?”

Why do you only speak words instead of full sentences?

You scan Max’s face for injuries and Max holds his breath when you lean your face closer to see clearly.

“No—No injuries.”

Your shoulders sag in relief, “Good. Thank fuck. Horner wouldn't be happy if golden boy got clocked.”

You pull yourself away and Max feels like he can breathe again. Then, you pivot on your heels.

“I’ll get you water.”

“No!”

You flinch and then turn to him slowly, your eyes growing wide and mouth falling slightly open. Max mirrors your surprise. You blink at him. Once. Twice. Thrice. Then, your forehead creases and you close your mouth.

“No need to yell at me,” you mumble but Max hears it loud and clear and now, his anger is spiking up again.

“Fine, go!”

You raise a brow at him, giving him a long look. A sigh escapes your lips. You leaned against the door, crossing your arms over your chest.

“Why aren't you leaving?”

“You don't want me to,” you say in a know-it-all tone.

“I told you to go!”

“What you want and what you say are two different things. Don't worry, I’ll stay for as long as you need.”

Max doesn’t say anything else. Instead, he sits there in the silence with his thoughts and he can already feel the tears welling up in his eyes. He’s sure you noticed that he’s trying not to cry, not with you standing in front of him. Max always makes weird faces when he forces himself not to cry.

But then you turn your back on him, not to leave, but to give him the privacy he needs.

His tears fall silently.

The 2018 WDC was Lewis Hamilton, who garnered 408 points by the end of the year. Max finishes in fourth, only after the Ferrari drivers, Sebastian Vettel and Kimi Raikkonen. The world thinks it is not a bad result. Max is still young and he’s battling three WDCs for points. But Max thinks otherwise. Winning is number one. The rest is just losing. The only thing he knows is he's not good enough. Jos is thinking of the same thing, too. He knows it.

Everytime someone congratulates him, Max has to bite his tongue and fake a smile. He can only feel anger, for finishing up fourth. It's like people are constantly reminding him of what he failed to become—a champion.

Red Bull throws an after party at the hotel bar, like they do at every Grand Prix, but Max chose not to go so he can drown in his own bitterness in the privacy of his hotel room.

A series of knocks on the door disturbs his ongoing rampage. He is sure it is his manager who’s behind the door. Archie possesses a horrible habit of appearing when he is not needed and not appearing when he is.

“What?!”

“Open the door, sour loser.”

That's not Archie.

Max’s jaw tenses. He marches towards the door and aggressively throws it open. It is you who stands behind it, an unimpressed expression printed on your face. Why is Daniel’s manager here?

“Who are you calling a loser?”

You sigh, peering your head in to look at his hotel room. You wince.

“Horner is not gonna be happy with how you trashed everything,” you begin. Max may or may not have thrown things across the room, punched a table and the wall, and accidentally broke a hotel-owned wall decoration. “Did you punch the wall?”

He did. But he’s not going to tell you that. Max hopes you don’t notice the peeling skin on his knuckles—red and angry and bloody.

“Can you leave?” he asks through gritted teeth. He hears you sigh. You do that a lot when you’re around him. Why?

You rummage through your tote bag—cream-colored with peach prints, the same one you wear all year round—and pull out a cold can of beer and a face towel.

“Lemme see.”

You reach for Max’s hand, which causes him to jerk back, his hand going behind him. You pause.

“I told you to leave.”

“Okay,” you shrug. You grab his wrist before he could dodge and you thrust the cold canned beer and face towel into his hand.

“Put this on your knuckles,” your tone leaves no room for further arguments. “Danny’s worried ‘bout you.”

“If he’s so worried about me, he shouldn't be leaving me,” Max snaps.

“Have you tried listening to his reasons?”

“Of course, I did!” Max is offended that you even feel the need to ask him that.

You purse your lips, “Maybe you did listen, just never tried to understand. I’d do the same thing, too, if I was Danny. No need to stay in a place where we’re no longer wanted.”

Max opens his mouth to bark back. How dare you utter such nonsense? You only stayed here for a year! ? You will never understand the relationship between Daniel and Max. You will never know Daniel the same way Max knows him.

“He isn't going to win anywhere else. We are going to get a new engine and the car will be better than this year. We’ll be better than Ferrari or Mercedes. We’ll be champions.”

I’ll be a champion, but Max leaves it unsaid.

“I know, heard it from the mechanics,” you shrug. “Maybe Danny won't win in another machinery. Maybe he will. Who knows? But if the team wanted Danny then that’s better. A team that wants and prioritizes Danny will treat him better than any team could. And right now, that's what he needs, a good team that supports him well.”

“Red Bull prioritizes him, too.”

“You're lyin’ to yourself, you know it. You of all people should know how shitty it feels to be number two and Danny is number two right now.”

Silence.

Number two. Cursed number two.

“Are you gonna follow Daniel, too?”

Max will not be surprised if you do.

You shrug.

“Let's wait and see.”

Then, you turn around and walk away, the soft click of your beige flats echoing in the hotel hallway until it fades into silence, while Max stands there at the open door, a cold canned beer and a face towel in his hand.

He uses the face towel to wipe the blood on his knuckle and uses the cold canned beer to help soothe the pain of forming bruises. Max wishes you brought something to ease the pain in his heart, too.

2019

The 2019 pre-season begins with Christian Horner saying that Archie, Max’s incompetent manager last year, has submitted a resignation letter. That makes Max Verstappen officially manager-less this year.

“For this season, since Daniel is no longer with us—” The corner of Max’s lips curve downwards. “[Name] does not have anyone to manage anymore. I was thinking of moving her to the engineering team but she was too efficient at managing Daniel last year. Would you mind if she becomes your manager? I assume you're both friends?”

Friends is not the appropriate term to describe what they are. Sure, they talked because Daniel talked with Max frequently and wherever Daniel was, [Name] is closely behind. Daniel also has this habit of dragging everyone into the conversation so no one will be left out. They also engaged in banter a few times, when Daniel’s not around and Max and her do not bother tolerating each other for the sake of the Australian racer.

For the most part, when Daniel is present, [Name] become the nicest person to ever grace the room, even Mother Teresa is put to shame, but when Daniel’s gone, [Name]’s saintess act disappears and enters an asshole who'll argue with Max and annoy him to oblivion. She absolutely vexes him.

Also, she's a terrible suck up. Max hates suck ups.

“She’ll be good for you,” Horner adds.

“Do you believe so?”

“I know she can handle you.”

Max raises a single questioning brow, “What is that supposed to mean?”

Nevertheless, Max has no choice. Horner believes she’ll be good for him and Max prefers having her as a manager than having none at all. God forbid he’ll be stuck manager-less. He can barely organize anything to save his life.

Even though they're not perfectly civil with each other, Max cannot deny the fact that [Name] is a good manager. It is like she possesses the uncanny ability of knowing everything Max needs without having him to voice it out and you do it without Max having to ask you. Which works greatly for Max. He really isn't the best at asking what he needs and people cannot mindread so he just sucks everything up until a simple thing gets blown out of proportion and he ends up blaming someone else for a problem that should have been solved had he voiced it out in the first place.

“PR sent me this,” you walk into the room early in the morning and Max groans because he’s still dealing with the hangover from last night so he cannot deal with your annoyingness right now. Despite hearing his dilemma, you put the iPad on the table and Max sees a picture of him drunk as fuck in a bar somewhere in Barcelona. He winces, looking away and not bothering to read the caption.

“They want you to clear shit up.”

“What's there to be cleared about?”

“People think we're datin’, darlin’. That's what you need to clear up.”

Max’s eyes go comically wide. Him and [Name]....dating? A blush graces Max’s cheeks.

You swipe down and show Max a video. The clip shows you walking out of the bar, warding off people with a passed out Max on your shoulder.

There are two things that immediately entered Max’s head at that moment:

Wow. You're really strong.

What the fuck? When did this happen?

“I’ll get you an Advil and soup. In the meantime,” you open a word document on your iPad. “You read this. Prepared a script ‘cuz you can’t improvise shit. We’ll film a press release vid when I come back, aight?”

You are gone before Max can even nod his head.

[propertyofhenrywinter]

Long live the walls we crashed through

Max Verstappen x driver!reader

Summary: you are involved in a crash so horrid everyone assumes you couldn’t have survived.

WC: just under 2k

You honestly didn’t know what exactly had happened yourself. You remember when everyone was waiting for the rain to end, so the race could begin. Unfortunately, it didn’t look like the downfall was going to stop anytime soon. All drivers were instructed to wait on the starting grid, so you and Charles, who was starting P5 next to your P6, where keeping each other entertained by playing some stupid game involving a lot of hand gestures. “Okay, I’ve just received word they are going to try and start the race despite the wet conditions.” your engineer’s voice interrupts you while you here trying to gesture a horse to Charles. “What? In this weather? Are they sure?” What you really had wanted to ask if they were plotting to murder one of the drivers or if they were just plain stupid. You look over at Charles as you saw his body language change, you assumed he had just gotten a similar message. “They gave us some vague reasons about the fans waiting and keeping the fight for the championship as exciting as possible,” your engineer explained.

The race had started out boring, slow, and mainly wet. None of drivers really felt secure while driving so there were almost no overtakes, no battles for a better place, nothing to entertain fans. Not that you thought that mattered considering you were quite sure the track wasn’t even visible from the stands thanks to the rain. However, between lap 4 and 5 the conditions started to better and some battles emerged on the track and positions started changing. You had managed to overtake both Charles and George, leaving only a certain Aston Martin driver standing between you and a place on the podium. The weather was almost dry at that moment, but you didn’t realise, no, you were only focused beating Alonso and joining your boyfriend on the podium. (Because let’s be honest best-case scenario: he was first, again. Worst case? Second) What you also failed to notice was a red car behind you disappearing to pit for slicks, because his team was so sure it would stay dry.

Although what had occurred after happened in a blitz, you could still remember that part as well. The Ferrari driver had just joined the track again and was being separated from you by George, when suddenly, the rain came back. It didn’t start with a drizzle, no warning droplets, just from zero to one hundred faster than any f1 car could. You vision was now reduced to that of a senior mole, giving you indication about the location of the driver in front of you. Lucky for you, you were familiar with the track at this point, so you didn’t worry about crashing yourself, but an invisible man in front of you was plenty of worry. You could hear your radio turning on, but you never heard what your teams plan of action was.

Because unbeknownst to you Charles, his brand-new slicks, the rain, and a nasty sharp turn steered his car into the young Mercedes driver. It was only a slight, soft touch. Just a tick. A little nudge if you must name it. But in those bad conditions George started to spin. But before he had started to spin and before he had been touched by the Ferrari, he had shortened the distance between the two of you by quite a lot. So, when he spun it took less than three seconds to feel his car touch something again. Now this wasn’t a nudge this is where your memory gets a little hazy.

George’s car spun into you. You lost control as well. You went through a wall. You flipped upside down. The car broke in two. Fire. Lots of fire. You got out.

You got out. You don’t remember how you did it, but you lived, and you were standing next to the burning vehicle. Half in shock from what happened you couldn’t deter your eyes from the flames you were a part of moments ago. You stood there in complete stillness contrasting your team’s garage at the same time.

“Max please come in, red flag.” “Yeah, I thought I saw something in my mirrors. I saw some yellow tints. Was that fire? Is everybody OK?”  “Just come in, please, we’ll explain then.”

Max jumped out of his car once he reached his team garage, where it was unusually quiet. “What happened? Why didn’t you tell me over the radio?” Max already started asking his questions before he had even pulled his balaclava all the way off, so his words sounded more like scrambled mumbles. Not that it really mattered; his team knew what he wanted to know. “Wait, why did only I get called in?” he asked once he noticed your car wasn’t on the other side of the garage, where it usually would be if you had to wait out a red flag. Max averted his gaze from the empty spot to the mechanics, who gave each other looks as if to say “I’m not saying it. You do it.” “Max,” he heard Horner trying to catch his attention. Normally the presence of the team principal would make him wonder what was bad enough that he had to intervene himself instead of sending someone else to deal whit whatever the issue was. Right then, however, he didn’t have to wonder. His eyes had caught the screens behind the engineers displaying a view of the track. This wouldn’t be anything out of the ordinary if it wasn’t for your car. Specifically, the back side of your car; he couldn’t see the front, but he assumed it must have gone through the barrier. “Along with you,” he couldn’t stop himself from thinking. Due to the fire, he couldn’t see or estimate the severity of the crash, but it did not look good. “You have her vitals, right?” he asked Horner, who had been tuning out ‘til now. “Well,” the principal began. “You’ve talked to her through the radio. Please. Tell me you know she’s alright.” Max said more as a question. At the lack of response his head started spinning. “We haven’t been able to contact her yet. No input about her vitals has come in since the crash.” Max stopped listening after that and just bolted to his driver’s room. Shutting the door behind himself, he was glad none of his team members tried to follow or stop him. Tears were already forming in his eyes while he turned on the small tv to be able to check on any updates regarding your crash.

Meanwhile you were already on your way to the team’s garage. You were surprised that no reporters intercept you on your way there, but you figured they were just focused on the crash site. You knew you should’ve gone to the medical centre first, but you felt fine and cared more to let everyone know you were alright. As you made your way trough the paddock, you start to wonder if people knew you got out of the car. They didn’t, you had no way of knowing this of course but at that time fire marshals were busy putting the fire out.

Max was watching them on the screen in his room, trying not to think about you in there. He almost threw up at the idea that you were still in there and that you might never come out, or that you might already be gone. He really didn’t want to, but he just couldn’t stop his mind frow straying to thought about waking up without you beside him, having dinner alone, never getting to complain about your shoes lying in the middle of the hallway again. His thoughts were about to make him physically sick when there was a nock on the door. He really didn’t want to be disturbed so he didn’t even bother responding. Another few nocks got ignored until he got fed up and shouted, “Leave me alone.” His request however got denied as a male voice sounded from the other side of the door. “We have an… update on the crash.” Max recognized the voice as one of the mechanics who was in the garage earlier. Although he was pissed off that he hadn’t been left to sulk in his misery alone, he was intrigued by the news, since there had been no new information shared on the broadcast he had been following on his TV. He also got scared, considering it was most likely that whatever it was it wouldn’t be good.

You were chatting to a still slightly worried Horner when you heard someone rapidly approaching you. You turn your head to see Max walking towards you with an unreadable expression on his face. “Hi,” you said softly right before he reached you. When he did, he just looked at you for a split second and then pulled you in his arms. He put is head in the crook of your neck, pulling you up to your tippy toes to reach it, and held his arms so tight around you that you believed it would leave a permanent indentation in your ribcage. “Let’s go somewhere more private,” you suggested, suddenly feeling the eyes of everyone around you burning in your back. “Okay.” Max said before almost dragging you into your driver’s room, considering it was a little closer by than his. He shut the door behind you and was back beside you before you could even bat an eye. “Are you alright?” he asks as he takes your face in both his hands. “I’m fine.” You pull one of his hands away from your face and just hold it. “You really scared me,” he said right before he pulled you in for a hug. “Well, I didn’t mean to,” you respond. “Just don’t ever do that again,” he says while he starts placing soft kisses on your face and head. “Wasn’t planning on it,” you scoff before pulling him in for a real kiss. You two stand there for a while, just holding each other, before you decide to rejoin the paddock.

“For a moment I really thought I killed you,” George confesses. Every knew you survived the seemingly survivable crash and the mood throughout the whole track was a lot less heavy than it had been a few minutes before. “It wasn’t your fault, you know that. Even if something worse would’ve happened I wouldn’t want you blaming yourself for a single second,” you explain. “It’s a risk we all take every time we get into that car and we’re all very much aware of it,” you add. “And it isn’t like I could leave anyway,” you smile. “why’s that?” George asks. “I mean who would play gestures with Charles before the races?” you look over at Charles before getting cut off by your boyfriend’s voice. “It’s not our fault you two won’t explain your made-up game to anyone else,” he protests. In response you and Charles give him a universal recognized obscene gesture while laughing to yourselves. While the conversation takes another turn you take some time realizing how lucky you are; not just for surviving the crash but for the amazing life you had. You wrap your arms around Max and lean you head against his upper body. “What is this for?” he asks but wastes no time in returning the gesture also wrapping his arms around you. “Do I need a reason to show I love boyfriend al of a sudden?” you playfully say. Max just smiles and says, “I love you too.”

Part 2

AN: So, this was my first ever fanfic so fee back and corrections are more than welcome. Also, I do have an idea for a part two so lmk if you would like that.

[strawberries-and-racing]

i wanna be yours - mv1

pairing: max verstappen x fem!reader

requests that came together and inspired this series:

• nsfw prompts 9-13 (in pt. 2)

• 'listen up. Obsessive possessive crazy max for sweet innocent reader smut.'

• 'ok so we need dark FICS of any driver of your choice but make him very obsessive and possessive and don't forget the smut. Keep it up girlllll!!!'

summary: a lot of tension building between possessive max and sweet y/n.

warnings: alcohol consumption, fluff, slightly crazy max, some cliches (im sorry!) also the title is based off the arctic monkeys song because i felt like the vibes matched also i love arctic monkeys💕

a/n: screaming once again!!! this is the first fluff ive posted and it's part 1/2. the next part has the smut as promised but i wanted to take my time and build this up please enjoy🙏

the flight to the UK was long, but well worth it. two months ago you'd been offered an unbelievable opportunity.

an opportunity you'd been dreaming of for years, one you'd spent what felt like an eternity working towards— an engineering internship. not just any internship, one with the red bull formula one team.

you'd be able to travel with the team, shadow the engineers, help with various tasks around the paddock, and design parts at hq. an absolute dream.

after scouring a thousand real estate websites, you'd finally found the perfect place for to live.

a little 1 bed 1 bath apartment, tucked into a beautiful, quaint little neighbourhood. just 30 mins to the red bull hq.

you'd dedicated many late nights and ikea shopping trips to making the apartment your own. your comfortable escape from the grueling hours of studying and pressures of the internship.

you led a busy life, but it never bothered you. you adored what you did and formula one had been your passion since you were a little girl.

and now everything was falling into place. in fact, tommorrow you'd leave to attend your first race with the team. austria. red bulls home race.

you were ecstatic to say the least.

  °~•☆•♡•☆•~°

you hurriedly made your way through the paddock and into the red bull garage. your eyes glued to the schedule on top of the pile of papers in your arms.

you were on your way to assist one of the senior engineers in preparation before the race began.

you were nervous, and it was no help that you weren't exactly sure where you were supposed to be meeting him.

suddenly, you stumble over your own feet and bump into someone.

you feel hands on your shoulders, their grasp firm, steadying you.

you look up and are taken aback by the pair of strikingly blue eyes staring back at you. his eyes were the kind of crystal blue that would capture anyones attention. but despite their bright colour, they had a sort of inexplicable depth, darkness to them.

there was something in his expression that you couldn't quite read. something stirring beneath the surface of his icy gaze. it was as though he wasn't just looking at you, but into you.

you abruptly become aware of his hands, still on your shoulders. you're so oddly aware of them, as if it's your first time being touched by anyone.

he holds you firmly, as if trying to hold you together. the moment seemed to last forever. the two of you frozen in time.

a stranger's eye contact and touch shouldn't be affecting you in this way.

"you okay?"

it's only once he speaks that you realize who the man standing in front of you is.

your eyes widen, cheeks flushing. you straighten up quickly, mouth slightly agape.

"oh'" you start, at a loss for words "yeah, im sorry." you manage a small smile.

you straighten up an take a step backwards, pulling away from his grasp. you miss the warmth of his hands more than you'd ever like to admit.

"it's okay, no worries," his eyes linger on you a moment longer before you both go your separate ways.

as you walk away, you cant help but glance back at him.

max verstappen.

you'd certainly heard him speak before on tv, but something about his accent in person was enchanting. his energy seemed to linger on you like perfume.

everything about him caught your attention, long before you'd bumped into him in person.

you'd seen his dominance on track, it was impossible not to notice. he could control the car like no other driver, handling each corner perfectly. he pushed the car to the limit every race and it payed off.

it wasn't just his driving you noticed. his persona. it was everything. and you couldn't ignore the fact that it was sexy.

his short temper, his tendency to snap easily.

it was unreasonably and indescribably attractive.

  °~•☆•♡•☆•~°

the next time you see him he's across the room. you're studying the notes that the senior engineer gave you, papers and writing utensils spread across the table in front of you.

he was discussing something with his race engineer, he certainly wasn't doing anything that was particularly interesting or peculiar, he wasn't even looking in your direction. but for fucks sake you were distracted. you were somehow absorbed by his prescence.

ever since bumping into him you couldn't seem to get him out of your head. last night you'd replayed the memory over and over in your mind, finding it more difficult than usual to fall asleep.

all day, you'd silently prayed you would bump into eachother again. your relentless efforts to push your thoughts and feelings to the back of your mind were useless.

the mere idea of him was addictive, so alluring. he was drug-like to you and impossible to ignore.

although it was unknown to you at the time, max had found himself similarly hooked on you. or rather, the thought of you. even though he found enough strength to avoid looking at you, he was well aware of you. sitting at the table in the furthest corner. he was even more aware of the fact that your eyes kept flickering in his direction.

your energy was unlike anything he had ever known. you walked around with an aura of pure innocence. yet you seemed untouchable.

your smile shone. your laugh was contagious. you radiated sunshine. max had come to know these things about you.

you were magnetic in such a way that made him curious.

it stirred something inexplicable inside him. like you were another thing for him to win, to claim. another thing for him to dominant. to corrupt.

your innocence was tangible. and max wanted to be the one to wreck you. it was all he thought about.

ruining you.

  °~•☆•♡•☆•~°

the light in your apartment was soft. that's how you preferred it.

you relished your alone time. your small apartment was tailored exactly to you. it was always where you felt perfectly safe and at ease.

light from the sunset was just beginning to spill through your windows. you're stirring a big pot of soup on the stove with lazy motions.

a buzz from your phone catches your attention, the screen lights up and you see a new message. it's from andrew, one of the young engineers at red bull who you'd grown close with over the past few months.

your eyes widen upon reading the message.

a dinner with drivers? you couldn't deny that it sounded exciting.

but then again, you were already in your pajamas and the soup was beginning to steam.

you suck in a breath.

fuck.

the three letters of his name were more than enough to change your answer.

  °~•☆•♡•☆•~°

you spent half your time getting ready frantically choosing an outfit.

finally, you'd settled on your favorite black dress. your hair fell over your shoulders in soft curls left over from the day before.

now, you were standing outside the restaurant. you take a deep breath, trying to calm your nerves.

you walk in and the hostess greets you with a friendly smile. you're led to a booth connected to a big table that's only half full.

andrew waves you over and you take a seat next to him in the booth. lando sits across from you.

youd never spoken with lando outside of strictly professional context and you were pleasantly surprised by his charming humor. you're engrossed in the conversation with the two boys as the rest of the group fills the table. you look up to greet the others.

your breath hitches when you see him. his eyes stare into yours with the same intensity as they had two days ago. you don't break the eye contact until he sits down and a dark haired boy you've never seen before calls his name.

despite the abrupt rush of blood to your head, you manage to hold up the conversation with lando.

  °~•☆•♡•☆•~°

max couldn't keep his eyes off you for long, and the longer he watched the tighter his grip got on his glass, until his knuckles turned white. he was so focused on you laughing and smiling with lando that he didn't pick up on the way you fidgeted with your ring. a nervous tell.

max clenched his jaw as you leaned in close to something lando said. far closer than what many would deem an action between two casual friends. your giggles and blushing and landos knowing smirk and your hand jokingly smacking his arm made max see red.

"you alright, mate?"

"im fine."

  °~•☆•♡•☆•~°

as the night goes on and the chatter and laughter get louder, people begin shuffling around, moving to talk with new people.

lando is called over to a different group of friends and andrew leaves with him, leaving you alone in the booth.

"having fun?"

you recognize his voice immediately, sense his burning presence as he slides into the booth, sitting next to you.

"yeah." you manage a smile. "the food was really good."

"that's good." he says, briefly glancing away. your eyes involuntarily trace over the tendons of his neck.

he was wearing a dark button down, the sleeves were rolled up to his elbows. simple, but ridiculously sexy.

he turns his eyes back onto you. "i didn't know you were gonna be here."

"oh i—" you hesitate for a second, his eyes making your heart skip a beat.

"andrew invited me." you explained, turning slightly so you could face him.

"mm, so are you..." he gestures between you and andrew a few seats down, you know what hes asking.

"oh no, we're just friends." you toy with the edge of your napkin.

it was a bold topic to bring up during a first conversation to say the least, but it didn't feel weird. there wasn't the usual tension, usual coldness that typically came with talking to someone for the first time. it was comfortable, you were able to relax a little.

"hm." is all max answers with. he spreads his legs slightly and pushes his hips forwards, getting comfortable. his leg brushing against yours.

the casual action had your heart thrumming in your ears, beating so loudly you're worried he can hear it.

you swallow, having to glance away. you feel your cheeks turning red.

why max verstappen had such an intense effect on you was still a mystery.

"so um—" you start, trying to make some small talk that would distract you from his arm that now rested on the ledge behind you. you take a breath, composing yourself before speaking. "how often do you guys do this kind of thing?"

he shifted again, his leg touching yours, but he doesn't pull it away this time. the knot of nerves in your stomach tightened. you felt your face turn even redder. the physical contact made your body ache for more.

max smirked, his ego swelling as he saw the effect he had on you.

"once in a while, usually after a race." 

you nod, biting your lip.

"congratulations by the way." you say, it wasn't surprising he'd taken first yet again, but you said it anyways. you prayed he wasn't able to pick up on the way your words came out slightly shaky.

you wanted to do nothing more than relax into him, but with the way he was looking at you that proved to be impossible.

you took a sip of your wine, desperate to cool down as an unexpected surge of heat washed over you which lingered between your legs.

max was different than anyone you'd ever talked too before. he reminded you of nobody. his sense of humor was unique and hilarious.

as the conversation continued you grew immensely fond of the dutchman sitting beside you. although you were absorbed in the stories from his childhood he told you, you remained acutely aware of how close the two of you were now sitting.

max's night couldn't have been unfolding more perfectly. your body language made your thoughts and feelings painfully obvious.

he picked up on the way you blushed immensely at any slight touch from him. the way your pupils dilated as you stared at him. the goosebumps that spread across your chest when he complimented your dress.

but the loudness of the restaurant was a little too much for him. there were too many people here. he craved something more intimate, more private.

"do you wanna get out of here?"

you're caught off guard by his words.

the question was so cliche, yet coming from his mouth it made your heart throb.

"there's a beautiful view not too far from here," he continued, "we could walk?"

his voice was like velvet and he leaned in close, speaking in a low tone as if he didnt want anyone to hear except you.

by now, you're practically having heart palpitations. the pit in your stomach gapes wider.

it was already hard enough for you to keep your sanity intact with him while surrounded by other people. you honestly aren't sure if you could handle being out alone with him.

you nod slowly your head spinning, breathe quickening.

"oh, yeah i'd love that." your voice was unsteadt, yet enthusiastic.

without another word he starts getting up, but before he slips out of the booth he gently touches your leg with his hand, as if reassuring you.

his fingers may as well have been made of hot metal, his touch affected your entire body, his fingerprints burned into your skin.

you felt like a little kid with a crush as you gingerly got up and followed max out of the restaurant, butterflies in your stomach and in your mind.

you don't notice all the eyes on you two as you leave the restaurant, too caught up in the giddiness you were feeling. your own eyes too focused on max in front of you, more specifically on his back which looked so good in that damn shirt.

max, on the other hand, was well aware of all the eyes on him. he fought to keep his cocky grin at bay. there were at least 20 other people there, and out of everyone, you were leaving with him.

he opens the door and lets you by first.

"thank you," you say, the night air cooling your overheated body.

"of course."

amongst the ever present—extremely active— butterflies that fluttered in your stomach, you felt a twinge of genuine nervousness.

you realize that you had just left a restaurant, alone at night, with a guy you technically barely knew. was this safe?

it certainly felt safe. max felt nothing like a stranger.

your nervousness melted away once max fell into step beside you. you looked up at him, at those intense blue eyes.

you were walking so close your arms touched. you had the urge to reach out and take his hand, but of course you didn't.

so there you were, walking alongside max verstappen into the dark night, to see the promised beautiful view.

you'd only walked two blocks before max carefully took your hand in his, entwining his fingers with yours.

please let me know if you want to be tagged for pt.2 (this might end up being three parts)❤

[bigboysfalldeep]

As a senior officer, rookies are assigned to Raùl up to four times a year. He shows them the basics, how to stay safe, what places to avoid and simply, how to be a good cop. His newest partner just graduated from the academy about three weeks prior. Being very green, days are extremely exhausting. Nonetheless, Raùl enjoys his job a lot.

He just brought him home after a very long, draining shift, and hes happy to spend an hour alone, to relax and to do paper work. The young one is learning this soon enough, and as long as nothing eventful happens, those reports are pretty easy to fill out.

Raùl is sitting inside the car in midst an empty parking lot a little out of town, lighting a cigarette. As he takes a deep breath, he leans back against the seat. With a huge exhale, he sighs and blows smoke out of his mouth.

He checks the clock. His shift is nearly over, time to head to the station. He turns the key, and the engine roars to life, but it dies soon after. Bewildered, he turns the key again, with the same result.

Sighing again, he thinks for a second. He cant afford that car to be broken. So much paperwork. Annoyed, he reaches for the key, but as he looks into the rear view mirror, he spots a dark figure sitting on his back seat.

"What the fuck? Who are you?" He grunts angrily, but as he blinks, that figure is gone. Raùl turns around to see where that man has gone, but there is no one in sight.

His heart is racing and his breath quickens rapidly. He feels his whole body shaking in fear. "What the fuck?" Raùl exhales, and the sound of his radio spooks him. He jumps, hearing the voice of his operator echoing through the car.

"Raùl. Can you hear me?" She says, and the cop takes a deep breath.

He turns back around and leans against the seat. "I can hear you." He turns on his microphone and holds back a nervous chuckle.

"Captain wants to talk to you, you may come in." She says calmly.

"On my way." He coughs, trying his best to not show his growing anxiety.

Raùl closes his eyes and runs a hand across his face and through his hair. 'Just my nerves' he thinks, but once he opens his eyes, however, the ghostly figure is hovering right in front of his face.

Letting out a guttural scream, he cant stop it from entering his body through his open mouth. Like sticky liquid it covers the inside of his mouth, his tongue and slides down his throat. Raùl gags, and tries to grab his attacker, but it doesnt work. He reaches for his gun, the radio, but then, his throat starts burning.

Its warm, goo-like, and more and more of it enters his mouth. In horror he watches the figure disappear inside him, deeper, until its gone.

His body reacts right away, getting harder than ever before. Its a extremely weird feeling. On the one hand its disgusting, the smell and texture of it all, but on the other hand, hes getting arroused.

Raùl blinks a few times and holds his throat, and stomach still feeling that sticky liquid running down inside him. He gags again and again, a defensive mechanism, but it doesnt work at all.

His entire body stiffens harshly, as all of his muscles bulge against his now tight uniform. "What is...." He growls deeply, but suddenly, his body starts twitching.

His entire being starts tingling, as warmth fills his entire chest. Subconciously, he starts stroking himself, feeling his skin heating up even through his clothes. His breath quickens again and he desperately tries to open up his vest, to make it easier for him to breathe.

After a few failed attempts, he opens the zipper and takes a huge deep breath in relief.

Just then, the warmth starts spreading through his arms right into his fingertips. The tingling gets even worse but he cant help himself but moan in blissful satisfaction.

Still stroking himself, he feels his skin move slightly, something or someone is adjusting to his bigger frame.

Its painful yet more waves of pleasure echo through every fiber of his body.

His upper body grows heavier and the warmth keeps spreading, now, through his waist into his thighs, further down, reaching his toes.

Raùl moans again as even his cock is tingling rhythmically. It grows larger, pressing against his pants. He never felt like that before, and nothing caused him to leak precum and stain his boxers that fast.

Unable to control himself he grabs his bulge firmly, moving his hand along his ever growing shaft.

"Soo good."

A voice enters his thoughts, causing Raùl to snap out of this state of pure pleasure for a moment.

"Who are you?" He opens his mouth, but hes just drooling. Instead, hes talking to that voice inside his head.

"Im the new owner of this beautiful body."

The voice says sassily.

"What? Who?"

Unable to form a coherent thought, Raùls mind starts spinning even faster.

Just then, his mind is flooded with so many different images, thoughts and feelings, which simply overwhelm him.

All of him tells him to give in. That its okay. So easy.

"Im merging with you, Raùl." The voice says. "Ive been looking for a host for months. And watching you with those rookies made my heart melt."

Raùl leans his head back, letting out a long guttural moan at the simple thought of his new partner.

His cock pulsates happily, staining his clothes even more.

"Im sorry. Couldnt help myself." The voice giggles.

"Please....dont."

Raùl cries out, the feeling of losing control getting worse and worse.

"I want you. I need you." The voice says. "And I always get what I want."

The pressure on his body gets nearly unbearable, and with a last effort, he tries to fight back, but the batlle is already lost.

Moaning, groaning and grunting deeply, Raùl shoots load after load into his pants. His body is giving in, and that voice is embracing this fully. The eyes turn glassy and unfocus before they roll back into his head. All of the muscles are testing the limits of the uniforms fabric and his voice breaks before it stops.

For a moment, all goes numb.

Then, 'Raùl' opens his eyes, and lets out a low groan.

With a smile, he looks at his reflection inside the rear view mirror, enjoying the sight of him.

"Very nice." He growls and inspects his face, running a hand through his nicely done hair and groomed beard.

'Raùl' then inspects the rest of his body. He enjoys how it feels to be a well trained cop. His muscles flex easily, and then, subconciously, he strokes his cock through a huge wet patch.

"Fucking good." He smirks, and raises his eyebrows. "The first time is always the best."

His captain wants to speak to him. Thats going to be fun.

[formulanando]

Boy, It's You I Desire | Fernando Alonso x Reader

part 1 | part 2

fem!reader x dbf! fernando

word count: 1.7k

minors dni please!

warnings: age gap, mentions of drinking, sexual innuendos, mentions of masturbation, delusion since i pretend fernando won the 2023 spanish gp

It was wrong. The deep, stirring feelings you had for Fernando. He was twenty years your senior, and had been friends with your dad for a decade and a half. You had pictures of him from his Renault days covering your bedroom when you were little, and he came to as many of your youth karting races as possible. These feelings? They had been there, transforming from a silly little crush when you were five to a tingling in your stomach when you turned sixteen. This summer was the first time you believed he felt the same.

Fernando had thought of you as a child. You were so much more than that to him, but the idea of loving you? That was wrong. Foreign. Somehow, the desire for you developed deep within him. Part of him loved the idea of having you as his secret.

Your father had met Fernando Alonso while your family was on vacation in Spain. There's a picture of you and your brothers as chubby elementary schoolers.You sitting in the sand in Oviedo with a twenty-something Fernando kneeling behind you. It is your mother’s favorite picture of her little family. Since Fernando was family to you and your two younger brothers. It sits in a wooden frame on the kitchen counter, in your family’s vacation home in Spain, where you now spend every summer. It used to feel like a happy memory, but now it seems to haunt you with what you can never have.

This summer in Oviedo felt no different than the many previous. You sat by the pool, spent time with some of your friends there, went out to eat, and occasionally went to the club. Dancing in a dark, sweaty room after a few drinks helped to ease the fact that you had not seen the older man in close to a year. It still mystified you at how you were practically in love with him. Whether it was actually him, or the figment of him your imagination romanticized, you were unsure.

Regardless, numerous boyfriends, and flings could not erase the crush that ate at the pit of your stomach. A flash of messy brown hair when you were walking downtown had your heart squeezing in your chest. Even worse, these feelings had recently crept back into play, at the dawn of the new Formula 1 season. He was your childhood crush. You reasoned that everyone had a goofy love for one of their distant relatives or parent’s friends when they were small, but at the age of twenty-three, you were unable to just write what you felt off.

Your parents had gone to see Fernando at the Spanish Grand Prix this weekend, and it was just you and your brothers flitting in and out of the house. They were eighteen, and sixteen, so you figured you would just stay out of each other’s way. You wished that you were able to travel with your parents to the Grand Prix, but you had never been deeply interested in autosport, and suddenly feigning interest would raise questions you felt no desire to answer. Your parents would tease you, saying you only wanted to go for Charles Leclerc, Carlos Sainz, or Fernando’s teammate, Lance Stroll. Standing in the Aston Martin garage would have sent you over the edge. You would have embarrassed yourself trying to hide the feelings you felt to be very obvious. Interacting with Fernando in his natural environment practically would have had you purring, and pressing your thighs together. Which is obviously not something you were into happening in front of your fucking family.

You watched the race, and wished even more that you went. Max Verstappen's Red Bull had qualified ahead of the Aston Martin, but he had suffered a very convenient engine failure in the closing laps. Fernando moved into first with ease. It was his thirty-third win, coming over ten years after his last. You knew he had to feel on top of the world, winning at his home Grand Prix. The crackly radio message yells and celebrations heard on your television were nowhere near the extent of it all. You pretended to be excited to your parents on the phone, about them telling you all about the paddock, but in reality, there was only one person you really cared about.

You desired nothing more than to be the woman he finds after being the highest on the podium. The one waiting on the bed in his hotel room, ready to feel his illicit touch. The thrill you know you would feel from having him buried deep inside you, without your parents having any idea. It made you want to rush to him. You played these filthy scenarios in your head while you touched yourself, and before you fell asleep every night. And tonight would be no exception. Trying to pretend your fingers were his, after you had a few drinks to numb the intensity of what you were feeling. Desperately hoping he was lying awake, wishing he could roughly pull your hair, and capture your lips with a searing kiss. In summation: you wanted Fernando Alonso to ruin you.

You woke up the Tuesday following the race to your parents’ voices downstairs. Laughter, clinking dishes, and suitcases rolling across the tile floor awoke you earlier than expected. You laid in bed, a warm breeze flowing in from your room’s open windows. You listened, despite a grueling headache from the previous two nights’ crosses between self-care and self-pity. What you did not expect to hear was that Spanish accent dancing among your parents’ casual conversation. A sensation of overwhelming excitement and a pinch of fear mixed in your stomach. Maybe something would happen…

You knew you should have probably put something more appropriate on before you went downstairs. But Fernando seeing you in your threadbare, oversized Renault shirt and barely visible pajama shorts was worth any potential consequences. Your little ploy worked. As much as you paid attention to him, you missed the way his eyes flicked downward, roaming your chest, stopping at the top of your exposed thighs. He started to really look at you. Like you were some beautiful young woman he met at a track or club. He felt himself split, one half wanted to take you on your kitchen island, making you cry out from him. From him only, not the little boyfriend you probably had. The other half remembered who you were to him. You were one of his closest friends’ children. That truth he was unable to escape. What if he was able to bend this rule? He pushed any thought of you from his mind, and easily reentered the conversation after falling into his aforementioned daze.

You practically ran to Tío Fernando, greeting him with an overzealous hug. As you always had, you lovingly buried your face deep in his shoulder, inhaling his expensive cologne. You could have been mistaken, but it felt as if he pressed himself to you more eagerly than was technically appropriate. You were going insane, this man should be a father-figure to you. Not an older man you were objectifying to filth, though many other women would leap at the chance to.

“Hola, cariño. My favorite girl is doing well, yes?” You practically melted at the way he smiled down at you. He rubbed a small circle on your back, as he had not seen you in awhile. You had always known you were his favorite. It had been obvious since you were small. You were both fierce, stubborn, and proud. Yet you desperately held onto the possibility of something beyond the base relationship you already had. You wanted to clash with him. Fight him, and fuck him.

“Thank god you’re here! I missed my favorite tío.” You reluctantly left his warm embrace, and greeted your parents. He let out his signature laugh at your response. You felt your face burning underneath your skin, praying that a flush was not spreading across your cheeks. The conversation passing between the three other adults continued while you slowly ate breakfast. Your brothers eventually filed into the kitchen and were greeted by Fernando with quick claps on the back. Fernando was practically unable to turn his gaze away from you when there were lulls in the conversation. 

In the year that you had not seen each other, a lot had changed. Fernando looked more youthful, and less worn down after his departure from Alpine. You had seen the physical transformation on television and the internet, as every fan had. He had always been fine, but now, goddamn, you needed to watch out. Green was his color. It complemented his tanned, caramel skin, and his brown, almost hazel, eyes. 

You spent the rest of the morning, and into the early afternoon, laying by the pool as you usually did. You donned one of your prettiest, and coincidentally, smallest string bikinis to lay out and enjoy the warm Spanish sun. The sky was clear, and the air was miraculously less humid than usual. Both of your brothers and your parents had left to do something, but you had not listened when they told you their plans. Fernando was still home, but you figured he was probably busy in a meeting or debrief with his team, and you did not want to bother him any more than you already had. Now, the only noises to disturb you were a lawn mower a couple of houses away, or a car passing by the facade of your house. 

The warmth of the ground radiated from underneath the towel you were laying on, and you began to fade into a light sleep. You must have dozed off for a few minutes, as you were awoken by someone ghosting their hand across your back, having gently brushed your hair from where it had laid. You jolted upright, raising a hand to cover your eyes. They finally adjusted to the harsh afternoon sunlight once more, and you realized it was Fernando who had woken you up. He was crouching only inches away from where you had been laying. You could practically feel his breath on the side of your neck before you turned to look at him properly.

“You are going to burn if you keep laying out here like that,” He smiled, crinkles forming around his tan face. You shifted your arms to cover one another to disguise the goosebumps the small caress had given you. His focus shifted to your arms, and you were sure that he noticed exactly what you were trying to hide.

“Well, thank you for saving me from a nice tan.” You playfully rolled your eyes at him, and started to get up. Fernando quickly grabbed your arm, pulling you back down.

He sucked his tongue against his teeth to scold you. “Since you are already dressed for it,” His gaze dropped to your microscopic bikini top, where it settled for longer than it should have, “I think we should go for a swim.” Saying that you were surprised was an understatement.

“Alright.” you had not expected yourself to be so compliant, as you were not in a big swimming mood. Fuck, Fernando could make you do anything. 

—

author’s note: thank you so much for reading my first work! i don’t think this was very good, since writing fiction isn’t really my forte. but, this is my silly little hobby before i start college so whatever. the next part is coming soon and feel free to message me with ideas, if you want to be tagged, or anything like that. you are the goat for reading this :)

[percervall]

I'm not a woman (I'm a god)

Pairing: Toto Wolff x Horner!reader Words: 3194 Warnings: Greek Mythology AU, descriptions of misogyny and sexism, Christian Horner is painted the villain, implied age gap (both are legal adults), smut, masturbation, p in v, loss of virginity, no beta we die like my sanity during f1 silly season

In which you claim what's rightfully yours

---

As the meeting progresses, you can’t fight the urge to speak up any longer. Had you still been at RedBull, you would’ve; you would have bitten your tongue until it bled because your father didn’t much care for your opinions, as he called it, despite the fact you had spent years on getting your Masters and then spent another three years on studying all the strategy calls the team had ever made to see where things could improve. No, your father allowed you to sit in those meetings just so he could keep an eye on you. But you are no longer under his watchful eye and scrutiny; Toto Wolff made sure of that. Oh, people like to say that you were stolen from the RedBull garage, your father playing the role of victim like he was born to do so, but nothing could be farther from the truth. You weren’t stolen like the 2021 Abu Dhabi Grand Prix; no, you chose to be claimed by Mercedes and their team principal. Thus, here you are, part of Lewis’ team as a strategy engineer, about to do the one thing your father always reprimanded you for: speaking out against a figure of authority.

“Are you going to say what’s on your mind or do I have to make do with your facial expressions?” Toto drawls, making your decision for you. You can feel your heart beating against your ribs as nerves flutter in the hollow of your chest.

“With all due respect, sir,” you start, the room breaking out in a mocking chuckle but you will not let that deter you, “With all due respect, but this strategy will cost you points. You are all so sure that this race will lead to a safety car while experience tells us that the chances of that happening this weekend are 2% at most, and all safety cars deployed in the last six years have been due to car malfunctions. If you want to end up in the points, I would propose a two stop strategy, allocating at least two sets of mediums for the race on Sunday and forgoing softs all together seeing as how much they suffer from tyre deg at this circuit.” The room is dead silent when you finish. Toto’s eyes remain on you, his face a stoic mask.

“Check my numbers if you want,” you add, growing in your confidence the longer this staring contest continues. Toto looks at one of the other engineers, eyebrow raised with a silent command. You hear someone frantically typing as they run the numbers. Leaning back in your chair you take a sip of your coffee, willing your hands not to tremble despite how nervous you feel. Whispers of she’s right flitter around the room as more people join in with re-running your calculations. You bite the inside of your cheek to stop yourself from smiling smugly at being proven right four times over. 

“Very well, Ms Halliwell,” Toto says, silencing the room once more. “We’ll try your set up with Lewis’ car and stick to what was already decided on by the senior members for George.” This is as much of a win as you are going to get right now, and you will gladly take it, but there’s a twinkle in Toto’s eyes that has your stomach in knots. You’re not sure whether it’s pride or awe; either way, it fills you with a feeling you can’t quite place yet you know you will crave it for weeks to come.  

When Sunday rolls around, you pray to whoever will listen that your numbers check out. You have gone over the statistics of this grand prix so often that you could probably recite them in your sleep at this point. Had it been any other race, you would have accepted whatever outcome, but this one means more. You need Mercedes to do well here in Austria, but more than anything you need your father’s team to suffer the consequences of their misogyny and ignorance. As you walk into the garage ahead of the race, your heels clicking against the cement, your eyes lock with Toto who gives you a slow smile as his eyes rake over you, taking in the way the stark white fabric of your team issued blouse and your tapered black trousers show off all your assets; you know you look delectable, and you know he knows it too. From the moment you met him for your job interview (which you landed under false pretences, using your mother’s name), there’s been an undercurrent of tension. It should’ve made you cautious, fearful even, of powerful men in powerful places, but Toto has been nothing but gracious, always indulging your retorts and meeting you tit for tat, a flirtatious game of cat and mouse that you’re enjoying immensely.

“I want you next to Bono during the race. You decided on the strategy, it’s only fair you get the recognition –whether it works or not,” Toto tells you. Nodding your head, you put on your headphones and take your place at the centre console. No more hiding in plain view, your father will see exactly what you are capable of –what you could have given him. Fighting the urge to chew the skin around your thumb, you keep your back straight and shoulders back as the race starts. You keep an eye on the weather satellite, scanning for any changes that could mess with the chosen strategy while listening to Lewis’ feedback for Bono, making suggestions for minute corrections to the set up of the car. Bono graciously forwards your ideas to the driver who slowly but surely climbs his way through the field. The RedBulls are still leading the pack, but you’re certain that your father’s confidence will be his downfall. As you had predicted, there is no need for a safety car during the race and, judging by the call to pit by your father’s golden child, they had been betting on one by using the softs at the start of the race.

“You were spot on with the tyre deg stats,” Bono tells you and you can’t help but smile wickedly back at him. There’s five laps left, and both RedBulls are on the hard tyre, which will never warm up in time to benefit from their longevity. George seems to be suffering a similar fate while Lewis is fighting with one of the McLarens for P2. Your eyes remain glued to the feed of Lewis’ on board camera as he begins the final lap. He is quickly gaining on the McLaren and in what can only be described as a masterclass, overtakes it to secure a P2 finish. Lewis’ radio message doesn’t even register; all you can hear is white noise as it dawns on you that you have shown everyone just what you’re capable of. It has whetted your appetite for more –for destruction. 

The team is celebrating a podium finish as if it’s a win, and you suppose to them it most definitely feels like one. You’re standing on the edge where the garage meets pit lane, watching them with a smile on your face when Toto comes to stand behind you.

“I want you front and centre when Lewis climbs that podium. You have earned this accolade and should be rewarded as such. Let your father see what he’s done,” he murmurs, voice low. It sends a shiver down your spine but you manage to nod in agreement.

“Good. Oh, and as part of your reward, I think we should celebrate accordingly in private, wouldn’t you agree? The choice is yours, take it or don’t. No hard feelings either way,” he adds, chest brushing against your back as he leans closer. Swallowing thickly, you nod once more, not trusting your voice as heat pools low in your belly at the insinuation. You can feel him slide something into your back pocket and you don’t have to check to know it’s the keycard to his hotel room. 

During the podium celebrations you stood front row, eyes steadfast on the podium with a smile so wide, your cheeks ached. You can only imagine the tales Crofty and Martin are spinning about you; no doubt making inferences about how distraught your father was to have his only daughter working for the rival. Let them spin their fairy tales, you had better things to get on with –or, more accurately, a better man. Sliding the key card into the lock, you enter the hotel room of your boss. Once you take this step, there’s no turning back, but you are willing to eat the proverbial pomegranate seeds. 

Toto turns around when he hears the lock click and you lean against the door. He looks incredible; sleeves of his shirt rolled up and a few of the top buttons are undone. 

“Wine?” he asks, picking up the bottle from the desk. 

“Yes, please,” you respond, accepting the glass he hands you. Toto smiles, and it’s so sly, bordering on debauched, that it has you squeezing your thighs together.

“Still some manners left in you. I wonder how long that will last,” he muses, raising his glass at you as he sits down on the edge of the bed. 

“They claim you have stolen me from RedBull, much like they claim Hades stole Persephone,” you say, straddling him before taking a sip of your wine. He can’t help but laugh when he sees the twinkle in your eyes, one of his large hands coming to rest on your hip.

“Oh, Meine Liebe, we both know you were not some prize that could be stolen. You saw the hell they created for you and thus you fled so you could set the world ablaze.” His use of a term of endearment is not lost on you, and you crave to hear more of it. 

“Stolen or not, I am here. What are you planning on doing to me?” you ask him, holding his gaze. 

“Oh, I plan on doing everything, darling. Every depraved fantasy you could think of and more,” Toto says as he puts his glass on the nightstand. You grow hot all over at his words. Despite your sharp wit –and even sharper tongue, if your father’s word is anything to go on–, you are about to enter previously uncharted waters. Of course you heard stories from your female friends while at University, devoured smutty book after smutty book, but actually doing any of it? Your father would dig himself a grave so he could roll in it if he ever knew what his little girl was about to do. The nervousness you felt earlier today is back in full swing as you try to find the words to tell him your biggest secret. 

“I-.. I’ve never done this before. I attended Oxford so I could live at home, remain under his watch,” you confess, not even able to say the words out loud. Toto studies your face, filling in the blanks with how your cheeks heat up in embarrassment. 

“No man has ever touched you?” You shake your head as you bite your lip. 

“Have you touched yourself, darling?” Toto asks and while he says nothing that could be construed as dirty, you gasp as if he has. Nodding your head, you can’t help but roll your hips against him, inadvertently grinding your pussy against the hardened bulge in his trousers. Toto swears under his breath, gaze darkening as he tightens his grip on you. 

“Will you show me, Liebling? Will you show me how you make yourself feel good?” 

Even if you wanted to, you’re not sure you could ever deny this man any request; not when he asks so caringly, as if your pleasure is the sole purpose of all of this. Breathlessly, you nod, letting Toto take your wine glass from you while you strip out of your work clothes. As you slide your blouse down your arms, you hear Toto groan as he takes in your figure clad in nothing more than your pale lilac bra and panties. It’s not the sexiest set you own, but it’s one of the few that doesn’t show through the white fabric. Before you lose your nerve, you climb back on the bed, eyes locked on Toto who leans against the footboard of the bed. He gives you a look, so openly full of desire that it makes your head spin and your pussy throb at being the object of his lust. Closing your eyes, you lean back into the pillows while your hand wanders. You can almost pretend you’re alone, your brain quickly supplying all the sordid fantasies you would never dare to say out loud. As your fingers inch under the elastic of your underwear, you can’t help but bite your lip as your hips writhe on the sheets. The tip of your pointer finger rubs against your clit and you gasp at the sensation, head thrown back. You’re already so sensitive, it won’t take much to send you over the edge. Applying the slightest bit more pressure, you begin to rub tight little circles, letting out the neediest whining noise.

“Fuck, you look so good like this,” Toto groans. 

“Please,” you whisper, lifting your head so you can look at him. His legs are spread and he palms his bulge while he watches you pleasure yourself, and that sight alone sends your head spinning. 

“Let go for me, darling,” Toto orders gently, and who are you to disobey him? Your body arches, head thrown back as you come undone under his watchful eye. 

When you open your eyes, you can see movement to your right. Sitting up on your elbows, you watch how Toto strips down to his underwear, and walks into the ensuite. You can feel your cheeks heat up when you spot the foil packets and the bottle of lube in his hands. Toto drops them on the bed before climbing on. Hovering over you, he brushes a strand of your hair back behind your ears.

“I want this to be enjoyable for you. Please tell me when you feel uncomfortable, tell me when something makes you feel good.” You nod, breath caught in your lungs. Toto smiles so tenderly at you that it makes you forget about everything else. He moves his hand from your cheek, down your neck to your bra strap.

“Can I take this off, Liebling?” he asks quietly. You can only nod, too enthralled by him to form words.

“Need to hear you say it, darling. I will always need to hear you,” Toto murmurs.

“Yes,” you whisper, swallowing down your nerves about him seeing you naked. He gently unclasps your bra, moving the straps down your arms before pulling it away completely.

“Beautiful,” he says softly, his eyes taking you in and you fight the urge to cover yourself up. Toto’s hands caress your skin, as if he is trying to commit every line and curve to memory. You arch up into his touch as he cups your breast, his thumb rubbing over your nipple and it sets something alight in your core. Toto’s hands move lower, fingers curling around the elastic of your panties.

“What about these?” 

“Yes,” you reply quietly, lifting your hips to help him. He sits back on his knees, hands sliding down your thighs and his fingers are so close to where you’re aching for him, it makes you whine. Toto chuckles, moving his body over yours once more.

“You want it so bad, don’t you Liebling?” he murmurs in your ear, and the only reply you can form is a quiet uhu. He smiles against your skin, pressing a chaste kiss to your jaw before moving away to fully strip. Biting your lip, you watch him tear open one of the foil packets and roll it down his hard cock. Anticipation and nerves flitter low in your stomach; he’s definitely bigger than the vibrator you have hidden away in the back of your closet.

“We’ll take it slow, okay? You decide how far we go, you’re in control,” Toto reassures you, moving closer so he can lean down to kiss you.

“Okay,” you whisper before his lips are on yours. Your fingers tangle in his hair while he drags his cock through your folds and over your clit. Toto moves his lips down your neck, kissing and sucking gently, sure to leave marks. Your body seems to have a mind of its own as your hips grind against him and you feel a desperation taking hold of you.

“Please,” you sigh.

“Tell me Liebling, what do you want?” Toto murmurs.

“Please.. Need you- need you in me,” you all but whimper, “Fill me Toto, please..” He groans against the skin of your neck at your request. Toto fumbles blindly for the lube and applies a generous amount to his cock and your pussy. Biting your lip, you lean up and watch as he slowly, so very slowly, sinks himself inside of you. The stretch has you panting and you feel how you clench around him. He holds you close, letting you adjust to the sensation of being filled completely. 

“Need you to move, Toto,” you moan, fingers clawing at his back. 

“Doing so good for me, darling. Taking me so well, fuck..” he groans against your skin as he sets a languid pace, and while it’s slow, his thrusts are so deep. 

“Ha-harder.. I can take it.. Please..” you whine, Toto eagerly complying with your demand. The only thing you’re able to do is cling to him as he keeps fucking you, whimpering every time he hits a spot inside of you that brings you just that teeny bit closer to the edge.

“Need you to cum, darling. Can you do that for me?” he asks as rubs his thumb over your clit. 

“Uhu,” you whisper meekly, unable to form a single coherent thought as you feel your orgasm approaching.

“Close.. Toto… Please.. Need.. Need to-..” 

“That’s it. God, you look so beautiful, just taking my cock like this. Come for me, darling.” And with that something snaps, your body arching as you feel your pussy clenching around him in waves. Toto keeps fucking you through it, chasing his own release, but you’re too far gone to pay attention. He keeps pressing kisses to your temple and hairline as he carefully pulls out, making sure the condom stays on. The loss has you whimpering.

“I know, I know,” Toto coos, “I’ll be right back. Did so good for me, so proud of you.” He gives you one last kiss before getting up to dispose of the condom and returns with a flannel to clean you up best he can. He throws it down by the side of the bed, and takes you in his arms. Your body feels completely boneless and you try to stifle a yawn. 

“Take a nap, Liebling. We’ll get properly cleaned up in a bit.” Nodding you allow sleep to pull you under as Toto whispers sweet nothings against your hair. 

written as part of @footballffbarbiex’s kink bingo challenge

It's not the 10k fic I joked about, but I finally managed to write the Greek Mythology AU I've been thinking about since early last year. Wanted to get this done and up before more information comes out during this delayed silly season, so if things feel rushed, it's because they are. This fic was heavily influenced by Bea Fitzgerald's Girl, Goddess, Queen; if you love retellings of Greek mythology, please check it out

Please let me know what you think; you comments, tags and likes mean the absolute world to me! 💜

[vettelsvee]

FIRST VICTORY (PART 1) | Sebastian Vettel

f1 masterlist | history series masterlist

history series season 1: part 1 | part 2.1 | part 2.2 | part 3 | part 4 | part 5

summary: sebastian gets his first pole position, while diana realizes that perhaps the world of motorsport she had idealized was not as wonderful as she had imagined. except for seb, of course, who was the one who, in part, made her continue in formula 1.

word count: 7060

warnings: curse words, bad language, mentions and act of sexism. mentions of sickness and medical terms. seb and di getting closer. just nico rosberg doing nico rosberg things (friendly reminder that whatever you read here is fiction, and nothing that happens here or how characters act is real)

taglist: [@theseerbetweenus @annewithaneofthegreengable @vincentvanshoe] if you wanna be tagged in each part just tell me in the comments <3

¡! you can read the fanfic as diana or y/n, but the faceclaim will always be my girl emma stone :)

feedback is truly appreciated!

2008

Italian Grand Prix  Autodromo Nazionale Monza

September 11 th Thursday

Monza had not welcomed them as they had hoped.

The sun had barely risen on that Thursday, marking the beginning of the Italian Grand Prix, hiding behind multiple dark gray clouds loaded with water that threatened to unleash upon the circuit at the most unexpected moment.

Diana, with her umbrella in one hand, backpack hanging from her back, and her accreditation hanging from her neck, entered the paddock with a downcast look. She had been with the Toro Rosso team for six months already, and although she knew she was living her dream of being part of the sport she loved so much and was aware from the moment she set foot in that world that it wouldn't be a bed of roses, nothing was turning out as she had initially imagined.

The first three or four Grand Prix had gone well, and they had even strengthened her bond with Sebastian due to his DNF situations. However, as the weeks passed and, with them, the months, everything started to go downhill. While initially the team seemed happy to have a girl among them, derogatory comments, an abundance of sexist jokes, and daily attitudes of the same kind became Wagner's burden. She couldn't help but feel undervalued and, above all, useless.

"I'm sure that when Diana gets promoted and becomes my engineer everyone will want her," Vettel said on one occasion when he heard a sexual proposition from one of his mechanics to another. "Trust me, Diana Wagner is going to win championships with me."

No matter how much the dyed-blonde had tried to prevent Seb from defending her to avoid drawing more attention, he didn't mind; on the contrary, he did it willingly.

"I have four amazing women in my life, and I wouldn't want them to be treated like that," the driver explained, showing a photo of his sisters and mother. "Despite being a ladies' man I know there are limits, and respect is above everything for me."

That didn't help at all as Diana ended up being relegated to minor, unimportant tasks. Suddenly, she found herself going back and forth in the paddock carrying coffees, preparing some meals and running errands for anyone, as if her only function was to be a decoration. She didn't know, but she was sure she had worked too hard to show that she deserved that opportunity more than anyone else who had applied for the scholarship. And not only that: she also tried to gain the trust and, especially, the respect of Toro Rosso members, although it seemed to have worked only with the blue-eyed blonde.

Despite proving her worth in every free practice, qualifying and race, and regardless of learning a little more every day, her senior engineer completely ignored her.

As she crossed paths with people on her way to the team's box, she reminded herself that she had arrived there on her own merits; that she had worked for years and that, if this moment was not the right one for her to shine, she would do so in the future. Patience, and especially attitude, along with luck, were the keys to success, and her father had ingrained it in her over her twenty years of life.

A group of Ferrari engineers accompanied by Felipe Massa passed by her arguing heatedly about possible strategies for Sunday's race and some configuration for the race car. As they almost always mistook her for a grid girl, Diana always took advantage of that. This time was no exception. Carefully, she began to follow them, pretending to attend a phone call to listen to as much of the conversation as possible and mentally note everything they said down. Sebastian's performance had improved since the race in Monaco thanks to some contributions she had made to Alex, the driver's engineer, who obviously took credit for it. She knew that no matter how much information she shared, it would not be acknowledged as her own, but the fact that she could help secure at least a podium for Vettel was all that mattered to her.

"Now, apart from being an aspiring intern, are you also a spy?"

Nico's voice made her come to a sudden halt, realizing she had been caught. A blush started to spread across her cheeks, accompanied by an unpleasant nervousness in her stomach.

"I was just snooping around a bit," the girl explained, growing more nervous as she saw the blonde approaching her. "I wanted to find out what's being discussed around here, that's all."

"About Ferrari's strategies, am I right?"

Diana didn't say anything, confirming Rosberg's assumption.

"That's what I like most about you, that you're determined."

"But you've barely seen me," Diana responded a bit curtly. "I just want to learn from the best to be the best, and I would do anything for it," she commented sincerely.

"Would you come with me now for a coffee?"

The young woman began to feel a shiver running down her spine, feeling uncomfortable with the German's suggestion. Every time she had had a chance to talk to the driver it had been in the same way. That had only made him gradually gain more confidence with her, and the hints became more and more direct.

"Thanks for the invitation, but I'm more of a tea girl," the girl said ironically, trying to maintain composure. "Besides, I don't know if you know, but I came to work and prove my worth, not to boost anyone's ego."

Before the Williams driver could reply, a familiar voice joined the conversation. Sometimes, Sebastian Vettel seemed like Spider-Man and appeared just when the Austrian needed him most.

"What are my eyes seeing? Nico Rosberg flirting, again, with our amazing intern?" he questioned, wrapping his arms around Diana. "Come on, lower yourself to that... I didn't expect that from you, Rosberg."

"I was just being friendly with her," the other guy tried to pretend with a smile. "Right, Di?"

Diana nodded, agreeing with him even though she knew it wasn't true. Vettel noticed how the girl's body tensed a bit due to discomfort, something that bothered him a little.

"Di?" Seb replied. "Now you're close to her?"

"Sebastian," she said, interrupting him because she was aware that if she didn't, things would escalate. "I just wanted to go for coffee, really, but I don't feel like it because I have work to do," she approached him, placing her hand on his chest, and said something in a low voice. "There's no need to make a scene."

Sebastian took a deep breath and calmed down a bit. He didn't like the intentions that many guys had with what he considered his friend, and Rosberg was no exception. He had heard many insinuations with that girl coming from many mouths, and every time someone said something he wanted to start a fight no matter how much he tried to control himself.

"Well, Nico, why don't you let Di and I go back to our garage? We need to discuss some private matters."

Nico accepted, with a mocking smile on his lips.

"Of course, I wouldn't want to interrupt whatever private thing you're going to do."

"Don't make things up, you bastard!" Wagner shouted at him as Rosberg winked at them and began to walk away briskly.

The girl thanked Sebastian mentally. Sometimes Nico could be not just a little but too heavy. It's not that she found him ugly, far from it, but she liked to get to know people before throwing herself into their arms and acting as if they had known each other their whole lives.

"Thanks for that, Seb, but I had it all under control," Diana thanked.

"Sure," the driver replied nonchalantly. "Rosberg can be a bit... let's say persistent," he explained as they walked, seemingly aimlessly. "But that doesn't mean he's not a good guy!"

"I haven't said otherwise."

Vettel stopped and looked at the girl. He barely knew her, and although it was true that in the last few weekends they had become closer, he still didn't have enough confidence to talk about certain topics...

She wasn't his close friend.

Even so, there was something she didn't know about her, but that attracted him immensely.

"Do you like Nico?" he asked without hesitation.

"What? No!" Diana shouted, attracting the attention of those around them. "How could I like him? All he does is ask me out, come up to me every time he sees me alone and invite me to his room in the Williams box! I don't want to hook up with him or whatever he has in mind!"

Sebastian started to mock her. Despite being a good girl, sometimes she seemed so innocent that it made the German feel sorry for her. He decided not to continue the conversation because he knew his temper was strong enough to tell him to fuck off.

"Will you join me for the press conference? It's in like half an hour," he commented, looking at his wristwatch.

"I thought Alex needed me to talk to him or something," the girl deflected the proposal. "Anyway, I can't even get in. I'm not a journalist."

"Well, I'm afraid you'll have to pretend to be one."

Diana didn't have time to accept the invitation as the German had already gently taken her by the wrist and started walking briskly towards the room where the press conference would be held.

As soon as they arrived and entered, still holding hands and attracting some curious looks, the Austrian was amazed at the immense proportions of the place. From the outside, it seemed much smaller, but she had before her a spacious and well-lit room, with a long table and five chairs arranged on a platform in the center, where Diana supposed the drivers would sit. Behind it was the Formula 1 logo, followed by a Monza Grand Prix 2008 sign.

The driver and the intern continued walking together, still admiring the last completely stunned at the journalists, cameras and other professionals from around the world present.

"Sit wherever you want, newbie," Vettel pointed to the seats where some reporters were already sitting. "I have to pretend that I love answering questions, and you have to pretend you're the best journalist in the room. Let's get to work and then I'll invite you to whatever you want, okay?"

They both parted with a smile. Wagner proceeded to settle in one of the back rows so as not to attract too much attention. She greeted people around her with a fake smile, trying not to let them discover that she was just an intern that no one wanted.

She watched as the drivers who would attend the press, besides Seb, took their respective seats. Kimi Räikkönen appeared with a serious face, something normal for him; Fernando Alonso exuded confidence, and Lewis Hamilton was relaxed, although alert to what they might ask him: it was only his second year competing, and he had already become one of the candidates to be the world champion of the season.

Vettel, as he seemed to do in any situation, was making jokes and chatting very animatedly with some reporters, receiving reprimands from what the intern knew as his public relations, Britta Roeske.

The event's moderator introduced himself, starting the press conference. Despite already knowing them, he presented each of the drivers present, mentioning their team and asking some unimportant questions.

Sebastian, who was the last in line, seemed visibly bored and acted as such, despite the multiple glances Roeske was sending him from her seat, until it was his turn.

"Now let's move on to one of the youngest on the grid: Sebastian, what do you expect from this weekend?" the curious presenter asked. "And, most importantly, are you worried about the rain?"

The young man regained his composure and approached the microphone.

"I have no expectations: I just want to do my best and not die of boredom until I get my first victory," he commented with his characteristic humor. "Regarding the rain, it's like a surprise visit from your mother-in-law, you know? It can show up at any time, hurt you a lot, and even be uncomfortable and challenging, but you can't deny that it adds excitement," the guy got a bit more serious. "Jokes aside, I think all of us would prefer it to be dry and sunny on Sunday, but rain is also part of the show, and if it comes, I'll welcome it with open arms."

The man, after thanking Sebastian with a look, turned to the audience and opened a brief round of questions to the journalists. Surprisingly, almost all of them were directed at Sebastian, who had become a sensation after his announcement as Mark Webber's future teammate at Red Bull Racing next season.

It was normal for everyone to want to know more about that guy from Heppenheim who showed promise.

"Sebastian, do you think you could outperform any of the Ferraris and achieve a good result for Toro Rosso?"

"I don't know, it could be. What do you think, Kimi?" he laughed, looking at the Finn with humor. "Ferrari is incredible, and Monza is one of their homes. I'm here to compete and try to do my best, so I'll strive for that."

Vettel nodded slightly, thanking in a whisper and giving the floor to a blonde reporter, with light eyes, whose name he thought he remembered being Sally.

"Vettel, next year you'll join Red Bull Racing. Anything you can tell us?"

"The best is yet to come," he replied, winking at her. "I hope to see you then. You know I'm always ready to answer your questions, Sal."

The questions continued, and they were even directed at the other three men accompanying Seb. Some were more technical, and others focused on the driver's mentality or the team's strategies, but that didn't prevent Wagner from getting bored. Throughout the forty-five minutes it lasted, she paid attention and took notes in a notebook she always carried with her because any information, no matter how minimal It was, would help her learn more about that extensive sport. Being there was a privilege she never thought of, so she couldn't waste anything because she didn't know when she would have the chance again.

Time passed faster than she initially thought. When the one who had directed the whole event, named Carlo, declared the session over, Diana remained somewhat mesmerized watching the journalists and photographers begin to gather their belongings and leave the press room, in an orderly manner for security reasons. She thought about staying a little longer, but she ended up succumbing to the pressure, getting up and heading towards the exit while keeping her gaze on Sebastian, who was saying goodbye to his colleagues.

Diana decided to wait for the driver at the entrance, but seeing that everyone, except him, had left, she went to the Toro Rosso box hoping he would be waiting for her there. The girl didn't know what to expect from the blonde, but being stood up after waiting for an hour and a half wasn't among her possibilities.

Although she didn't expect much from the German either. [...]

September 13th  Saturday

Even though the pain Diana felt in her stomach was still quite noticeable, she had to put on a brave face and act as if everything was perfectly fine. She knew there were sick leave allowances even for interns, but the girl didn't want nor could she afford to risk losing it all over a simple stomachache.

The day before, Friday, she didn't take part in the two free practice sessions because a noticeable discomfort in her stomach began to manifest in the early hours. Initially, she attributed it to the disappointment she had felt after being stood up by the German; when vomiting started and diarrhea set in, she didn't hesitate to go down to the hotel lobby, ask for the nearest hospital, and call a taxi.

"I'm afraid to say that it might be gastroenteritis, Miss Wagner," the emergency room doctor informed her after running some tests. "Refrain from your work for a few days and stick to a bland diet."

The cake that Amelie had made for her birthday and that her father had insisted on keeping in the refrigerator for five days, despite being quite poorly made, seemed to be the culprit of her indigestion.

There was barely half an hour left for the qualifying session to begin. Quickly, she passed her accreditation through the scanner as fast as she could, holding onto her belongings tightly, and ran to the Toro Rosso garage as fast as she could, trying to stave off the urge to vomit. She had a terrible night, battling constant stabbing pains and nausea, making her feel like a pregnant woman. If it hadn't been for a pill that had been prescribed to her after insisting a lot, her diarrhea would probably still be continuing at that moment. She clenched her teeth tightly to avoid vomiting right there, and she was grateful that it was raining because her umbrella made her less noticeable.

The moment she saw her workspace, she hurried even more, closing the umbrella and placing it in a stand at the entrance. The looks were already starting to intimidate her, but she didn't feel panic until she reached the area where Alex, Seb's track engineer and, let's say... her boss was.

"Where the hell were you yesterday, Wagner?"

Fiori quickly took off his headphones, leaving them around his neck, and turned to look at Diana sternly. His expression showed a mix of anger and annoyance, and the girl knew that nothing good was coming because this forty-year-old was not particularly known for his empathy and kindness.

"I informed a public relations girl you have around here, I think her name is Martha or something like that," the girl explained, trying to justify herself, "and I also brought the medical certificate. I've had gastroenteritis since Friday morning, and I went to the emergency room. The doctor advised me to take a few days off, but I decided to come today."

The man reluctantly took the paper and examined it thoroughly, looking for any sign that this information might be false. He couldn't believe that a young girl was there; let alone, that he had to endure her.

Although what Alex Fiori hated most about her was that Sebastian praised her so much.

"Are you feeling better now?" the Italian inquired, still absorbed in the medical lines.

"Yes, a little, thank you," the blonde sincerely thanked. "Really, Mr. Fiori, I'm so sorry I couldn't attend yesterday, and I'm even more sorry they didn't inform you. I didn't have anyone else's contact."

The man took the paper grudgingly and examined it thoroughly, looking for any reflection that this information might be false. He couldn't believe that a girl was there; let alone that he had to endure her.

"Let's hope you don't miss again for nonsense like this," he replied indifferently, tearing the paper aggressively. "I need you to be here and fulfill your responsibilities. That's why we tolerate you and pay you every month."

Diana just nodded, threatening tears to escape from her eyes.

"Of course," the girl tried to declare. "I promise I won't miss a day again, Mr. Fiori."

"Don't make promises you won't keep, Wagner," he bluntly replied as he headed towards Vettel. "Now just sit down and stay quiet during qualifying. I don't want to hear you."

The girl felt a knot forming in her throat as she watched her boss approach her pilot. She tried to maintain composure, but it was impossible: she shed a tear easily and wiped them away as quickly as she could to avoid drawing even more attention. She felt frustrated and powerless because she couldn't defend herself or express what she felt in those moments.

She did what his engineer instructed him. She grabbed her headphones, sat a bit farther away than usual, and started watching Q1 on the screen in front of him. It had only been about five minutes, and Alex's comments to Vettel were already resonating in his ears.

"Come on, Seb, you have to try to nail a perfect lap on the first try. We need to secure a spot in Q2."

"Copy," the German replied.

From her seat, Diana could see Sebastian's engineer gesturing wildly with his hands every now and then, upset with any maneuver the driver made. She observed from her monitor the laps he was doing: gradually, his times were improving, and although his performance was not the best, combined with the ineffective car, it was surprising to the Austrian.

"Seb, you're improving," Alex informed him as optimistically as possible. "We just have one chance to complete a lap, so try to concentrate as much as possible."

"Copy."

Sebastian pushed the car to its maximum, hugging every inch of the track without exceeding the track limits. Wagner was amazed, and she could hardly look away.

Fiori informed Seb that, for now, they were through to Q2, although it was still necessary for the German to extract a bit more speed from the car to ensure participation in the next qualifying round by a few milliseconds.

Every second that passed felt eternal for Wagner, who was holding her breath with excitement. Finally, when Vettel moved on to Q2, she could breathe easy. In the garage, cheers of excitement echoed, something that made her laugh because, in reality, he had only advanced about five positions on the grid, not a significant achievement, but a good merit given the ineffective car they had.

After a quick analysis of data and preparation for the Q2 strategy, of which Diana had not been a part but had listened attentively, as if she didn't care, it began.

The girl had heard that they had decided to stick with the wet tires they had used in the previous session. It seemed like a mistake to her because a majority of the other drivers would be using new pairs. Therefore, when they saw Sebastian's times, despite being good, starting to slow down compared to others, they hurried to call him to pit stop. Diana couldn't help but laugh. She wasn't the most qualified to judge, as she wasn't an expert, but if they paid more attention to her, such things wouldn't happen so often.

The girl still had a long way to go, but let's say Wagner saw a few DNFs coming and despite sending direct messages warning, they ignored her.

Maybe that's why her boss disliked her so much.

"We can't afford mistakes, Seb!" Alex shouted over the headset as the German went out on the track again. "You have only one damn chance, so I hope you make the most of it."

Sebastian sighed, possibly a little tired of the man's comments.

"Alex, I know. I'm trying my best."

Diana felt the tension escalating in the box. Bourdais had been eliminated from Q1, and Seb was their only hope. In those moments, every lap was crucial because telemetry warned them that there were only tenths of a second between drivers, making the competition even more fierce.

The shouts continued exchanging between the engineer and the driver, and the girl began to sympathize with Vettel. While she understood the position Alex had to maintain, at the same time, she was aware that he was risking his performance, annoying him and adding even more pressure to the equation.

"You can't just make rookie mistakes at this stage, Vettel! I need you to perform a fast lap. Take advantage now that there's no traffic."

The guy just accepted the order, frustrated with the behavior he was getting from his engineer. It wasn't the first time he had spoken to him like that, but it definitely seemed like his typical qualifying anger was exacerbated by the absence of a certain girl the day before.

Sebastian continued pressing as much as he could, cutting every corner and straightening every turn, trying not to make too many corrections due to the rain, and even overtaking those who were in his way on his lap, even when they were at high speeds and he could risk losing control of the vehicle.

Diana began to feel panic at that moment. He shouldn't risk so much because he could crash or go off the track at any moment.

But we're talking about Sebastian Vettel. Of course, he would try to be the best.

When the session timer hit zero, and the guy crossed the checkered flag, he immediately found himself in the third position. Diana felt immense relief and also a subdued excitement, seeing that Seb had advanced to the final qualifying session.

The path to the pole position was close, and everyone at Toro Rosso was aware of it. Now, more than ever, the Austrian could sense how tense her boss was. The good thing was that his nerves seemed to be under control, as all he did was send encouragement and opponent data to the German.

"Come on, Seb, the pole is yours! Just concentrate and don't think about anything or anyone else."

"Thanks for reminding me, Alex. I was already starting to think about what I would do tomorrow when I won the race," Vettel replied sarcastically.

Diana couldn't help but silently laugh at Sebastian's comment. She didn't understand how, despite the pressure, he always found a way to maintain his sense of humor.

"Sebastian, don't say or do stupid things," Alex scolded him. "We need a bit more time to secure P1 for tomorrow. Hamilton is getting closer to your times quite rapidly."

"I'm trying my fucking best, okay?"

The tension increased with each passing second, and Diana couldn't take her eyes off the screen, following every move the German made on the track. The girl silently prayed, hoping that everything would finally go well for both the guy and her team.

"Seb, the pole position is yours!" the engineer shouted, gripping the microphone tightly as he stood up. "You're the best, you've done incredible!"

The girl felt a wave of joy and, why not say it, relief, upon hearing that Vettel had secured the first position on the grid for tomorrow's race. She was impressed by the guy's skills: it was undeniable that the Toro Rosso didn't measure up to other cars, so this was an impressive achievement and, especially, a reason to celebrate for the whole team.

All team members started celebrating immediately, leaving all their belongings on any surface they found on their way to parc fermé. Everyone was ecstatic, and Diana was no exception. With a smile that covered her entire face, the girl made a motion to get up to join her colleagues and, above all, congratulate the driver on his first major achievement in Formula 1.

Before she could even get up from her seat, Fiori was already in front of her, arms crossed, giving her a cold and disdainful look.

"Where do you think you're going, Wagner? I hope it's not where I think it is. You better stay here. You have no place in the celebration."

Diana felt a bit confused and, above all, hurt by the man's comment. She was aware that she wasn't a favorite among some staff members, including Alex, but the way he belittled her made her feel like garbage.

"Mr. Fiori, I'm also part of the team," the blonde commented. "I would like to congratulate Sebastian on his achievement."

"You don't need to congratulate him, that's the business of the team members, not interns like you. Just stay here and clean everything up. I don't care what time you finish, I want everything to look perfect tomorrow."

The intern nodded with a lump in her throat. She wanted to shout a thousand things at that Italian man who made her feel worse and was, in part, the main reason she wanted to give up on everything she had ever dreamed of. It was clear that all kinds of sexist comments bothered her. The treatment she received, and that she had just received, as if she were a mere servant, made her feel like she was living in Cinderella's story, except that she didn't have evil stepmothers or stepsisters, and of course not a prince charming to save her or, at least, help her.

Hours passed and the rain continued to fall vigorously. Despite this, the party for Toro Rosso did not stop and, as she heard from some people who approached to take their personal belongings, it would move to a nearby bar.

Diana felt a little more at ease when everyone left. Slowly, she went from picking up tools, office supplies and even some pieces of the cars, to sweeping and mopping the floor, ending up cleaning the bathrooms, which seemed not to have received bleach since they were created. It might seem a bit strange, but that was serving the girl to clear her mind and forget everything she had been told and done over six arduous months.

Feeling displaced was an understatement, and she knew she had to do something about it. Her stubbornness and, especially, the fear of losing everything made the Austrian not dare to challenge Alex's authority. She feared that if she didn't comply with what was asked of her, she would be kicked out of her position in the internship program, and an opportunity like that would be hard to come by again.

In those moments, surrounded by the noise of falling drops and the hum of the air carrying a fallen leaf from the trees, she realized she was alone and always would be.

She was the only thing she had in her life, and she had to protect it; breaking down or giving up at the slightest thing was an unviable option.

She had to fulfill a dream and couldn't afford to believe the comments she received every day because, in the end, each and every one of them was a lie.

"Hey, are you here?"

The young woman turned towards the garage entrance and saw Sebastian dressed in a gray team-logo T-shirt, jeans, and a completely wet umbrella in his right hand. His gaze seemed sad, and he appeared concerned for the girl in front of him.

"You shouldn't stay alone here, especially with this shity weather," the driver declared entering the place.

Wagner tried to force a smile, although she couldn't pretend in front of the only person she didn't consider a threat there. Her tears threatened to escape, but she controlled herself enough not to break down.

"I'm fine, Sebastian," the blonde tried to disguise. "Don't worry about me. I just have a couple of things left to pick up, and then I'll head back to the hotel."

"I know you're very smart, that's why I know you know, as much as I do, that you shouldn't be doing this," the guy spat out seriously. "It's not your responsibility: there are people from the cleaning department who take care of it." He approached the girl and embraced her. "You should be at the dive bar we were at, drinking tequila shots and celebrating with the rest of the team that I got a pole position."

"And the first one, by the way," Diana received an unfriendly look from the German, hinting that she should stop making excuses. "Fiori told me to stay here, and I didn't want to intrude on that celebration that seems so important to keep exclusively for team members."

Sebastian felt even worse for the girl. He had heard through his radio everything Alex had said to her before the start of the qualifying, and, even though he was aware that she had been mistreated and belittled by her engineer for a few months now, he now felt very guilty about it. Also, leaving her hanging because he got caught up in a phone conversation didn't help his mood.

"You don't have to listen to Alex. You're part of the team no matter what they tell you, and you have the right to come with us."

"Sebastian," the girl lowered her gaze, trying to calm herself, "I don't want to cause trouble or bother anyone. I'm here to learn and be useful."

"You are useful, Di," Vettel put a hand on her shoulder and lifted her chin to make her look at him, "it's just that no one, apart from me, has seen what you're capable of yet."

The Austrian could see sincerity in Sebastian Vettel's eyes. She was still a little hurt because she had been waiting for him for hours, excited because finally, she could do something different than just going to the hotel, but she knew that there was finally someone who supported her, and, above all, that she wasn't alone.

Perhaps, Wagner thought, she finally had a friend.

"Thank you, Seb... Sebastian, I mean," she expressed with gratitude, correcting herself quickly.

"You can call me Seb. My inner circle calls me like that," the driver explained, "all thanks to my sister Lara. She's ten, but if you saw her with Mick... They seem like two completely different people despite being born just a year apart."

Diana didn't understand much but she just nodded, confirming what the driver had said. She was almost finished mopping the floor, and that meant it was time to take her belongings and go back to her hotel. Tomorrow was race day, and they had to be ready early in the morning.

Both of them made sure everything was perfect and headed toward the exit of the paddock at a calmer pace than they should have. The night was colder than usual, bothering Diana a bit, who was surprised at Sebastian's ability to endure such low temperatures.

Without a doubt, that guy surprised her quite a bit.

"Are you leaving now?"

Vettel stopped a few meters from the girl, looking at her intently. He was heading to the parking lot, and he thought Wagner would too. It was not just a matter of weather conditions, but also the late hours of the night.

"Yes," Diana objected. "My hotel is about half an hour from here. If I hurry, I'm sure I'll be there by ten-something."

"No way you're going to go alone so late," the German replied. "There are a lot of crazy people out there and I don't want anything to happen to my favorite paddock girl before I win my first race."

"Seb, I'm serious," she thanked him, "but I can do it for myself. I do this every weekend, and nothing has happened to me."

Sebastian tilted his head, imperceptible at the words coming out of the girl's mouth.

"No, nothing has happened to you yet," he insisted. "From now on, I don't care what you say or any excuse you come up with, you're going to have a chauffeur and a bodyguard."

Wagner reluctantly accepted her companion's offer, knowing that arguing with him made no sense.

The car journey was enjoyable, and deep down, Diana was thankful that Sebastian had insisted on taking her to the hotel. The night was darker than usual, and the rain had left many streams and puddles of water that were hard to avoid walking. The temperature had dropped noticeably, something she could feel from the cold air seeping through the windows of the BMW that Vettel was driving.

"Thanks for bringing me, Seb," the girl said from the passenger seat. "I have to admit you were right. It would have taken me much longer if I had walked."

The blonde didn't say anything. Instead, he turned on the radio, and a soft melody, the first chords of Viva la Vida by Coldplay, began to resonate throughout the vehicle. Diana, who declared herself an absolute fan of the band, just started humming the song quietly, feeling embarrassed about her own voice.

The driver, glancing at the girl but keeping his eyes on the road, couldn't help but be moved by the scene he was witnessing. He didn't know Wagner well, but he knew she was a girl worth getting to know, and over time, they would become good friends.

"Do you like this song?" Sebastian asked Diana.

The girl just nodded and said it was one of her favorites. Vettel, on the other hand, turned up the volume of the song, which was now at the chorus.

"Come on, sing!" Seb encouraged her. "No need to be shy. It's just you and me."

Diana began to let herself be carried away by the confidence that Sebastian had inspired in her and started singing softly, letting the music fill her. Gradually, her singing voice became louder and more confident, leaving her shyness behind.

"See? I told you, you have an incredible voice!" Sebastian affirmed, utterly captivated by the girl's voice.

Blondie blushed at her companion's comment, but she continued singing enthusiastically. Soon enough, Seb joined the impromptu concert, which, along with the sound of rain hitting the metal roof, mixed with the music and their laughter, created an atmosphere they had never experienced before. They had only known each other for a few months, but at that moment, they felt like they had known each other their whole lives.

The car finally stopped in front of the hotel entrance. Quickly, they were greeted by a valet to whom Sebastian handed over the keys and a tip, which was greatly appreciated. Before Diana could get out of the vehicle, the driver rushed to go and open her door, a gesture that surprised the girl quite a bit. She knew about Vettel's flirtatious side, but the romantic side, not so much.

"Well, thanks for bringing me, Seb. It's time for me to go to sleep because, in case you forgot, I have to be well-rested to see you win your first race."

The German laughed at the clarification, although a bit sad to have to say goodbye to Diana already.

"None of that," he shook his head, "I want to make sure my Cinderella gets safely to her quarters."

The young woman nodded, and both started walking toward the hotel entrance. Throughout the walk to Wagner's room, silence settled between them, and neither seemed to want to break it. They hadn't spent the whole day together, but the hours they had shared had been incredible, and now neither wanted to say goodbye to the other.

As soon as they reached room 374, both knew that the farewell was imminent. Diana, who refused to accept that, opened the door and let the boy in, who accepted without any hesitation.

"Hey, Seb, about yesterday..."

Sebastian felt embarrassed. He knew he shouldn't have left her hanging, but the call lasted longer than expected, no matter how much he insisted that he already had plans with someone.

"Don't worry, Di," Vettel interrupted. "It's entirely my fault, and I apologize. An old friend called me, and I lost track of time."

Wagner took off her shoes and sat on her bed while continuing to listen to the blonde. Maybe it affected him that she had stood him up, but in the end, being so absent-minded, the same would have happened to her if she had gotten caught up in a conversation with her father and her sister.

"What's your friend's name?," Diana wanted to know.

"Hanna."

"Well, Hanna is a lucky girl," the blonde said candidly, ignoring the discomfort the guy was showing. "I bet we all would all like to have a friend like you: you can drive a car at around 300 kilometers per hour, you endure the cold perfectly, and you know more than one language, I wish I could!"

Sebastian laughed, although the guilt of hiding Hanna's true identity was eating at him. He wanted to be honest with Diana, and at the same time, he wanted to continue respecting his girlfriend's wish that no one knew about them, for now.

"But didn't you know more than one language?," Seb wanted to know.

"Yes: German, English, Spanish, and, if you consider it a language, Catalan."

"You're a catch, and I'm tremendously grateful to have you on my team, Di," Vettel asserted. "Fiori and everyone else may be jerks to you, but rest assured that next year, when I move to Red Bull, I'll fight to have you come with me," Diana looked at him in amazement. "No kidding, okay? I've talked to Britta and we've set in my pre-contract that one of the requirements is your transfer next year, with me. I have to talk to Horner about it," he declared, "but I know he'll be more than happy to agree."

Diana paled at that. Sometimes she forgot that her path in the next season was a bit uncertain, but she tried not to think about it and ruin moments like the one she was experiencing now.

She didn't know if she should ask, but Wagner decided to take the risk:

"Would you like to stay here, with me, for a while? We can keep talking or watch something on TV, but if you're too tired I understand if you want to go back to your hotel."

"Are you sure of what you're saying, Diana Wagner?"

"Absolutely, Sebastian Vettel."

Both young people spent almost until the early hours of the morning talking mainly about the race the next day, exchanging some strategies that, undoubtedly, couldn't be taken into account due to Diana's position as an intern. Seb, who had discovered that his new friend was more than just a pretty face in the first days of her arrival, realized that she knew more than she seemed, and many of her ideas were a thousand times better than Alex's.

They continued chatting until, around one thirty in the morning, exhaustion made Sebastian fall asleep on Diana's bed, who followed suit shortly after.

Maybe Hanna Prater would never find out that, the night before Sebastian's first victory, he spent it with the love of his life. His true love. They didn't do anything beyond talking, but they did get to know each other a little more, and maybe they began to develop feelings for each other. Although it was still early to know for sure.

However, there is a very famous saying that is often said, and that both young people in that hotel room had overlooked: never say never.

[kissland69]

sugar sweet

•eddie munson x f!reader

•angst to fluff, “unrequited love”, both eddie and reader are seniors in high school, eddie is 18-19y/o and reader is 17-18y/o, ik it’s march but let’s pretend that it’s still february!

•if you guys have any requests for certain characters to write about please let me know! i’ll do them, just remember it’ll be f!reader

As y/n felt the cold february air hitting her face, and anxiously waiting for the sound of the roaring engine of Eddie’s van she wondered how she’ll confess to the lanky metal head, the more she procrastinated to admit her feelings for him the more her heart shattered. Y/n has been friends with Eddie since middle school, she has seen him through his awkward, anxious stage of his life, y/n seen the moments where he was the most vulnerable, y/n knew all his strengths and weaknesses and still fell madly in love with him, seeing him grow into such a confident, carefree and loving man but…she felt like the best thing to do was to suppress all those childish feelings for him and continue growing the friendship they had, she felt like confessing to him would completely destroy everything and leave y/n with nothing.

Y/n dawned on how she’ll even tell him how much she loved him, she knew it’ll be sooner than later her emotions will get the best of her and she’ll slip up and tell him, it’s only a matter of time that she’ll see him falling in love with someone who isn’t her, and she hated how that made her stomach twist with disgust..it’s pretty selfish to feel like that but spending years yearning for someone you know will never feel the same way you do can make you this way. While y/n was deep in thought, she suddenly heard the booming engine of the beat up van coming towards her, feeling her heart racing with excitement and nervousness

“hey sweetheart, come in before you turn into an ice sculpture” Eddie said swinging the passenger door open from his seat, smile bright with a deep dimple sitting on his left cheek, y/n drank up the sight in front of her and made her way into the passenger seat and clicking her seat belt around her “are you ready for all the cringe couples tomorrow?” eddie said with a snicker “not at all, i don’t have the energy to see gross pda at 8am” y/n said while rolling her eyes “i know right, valentine’s day sucks” eddie said while pulling into the school’s parking lot “hey, luckily for us we can spend all day after school together wallowing in our lack of romance together” y/n said with a smile “you’re completely right sweetheart or maybe we can go on a-“ before eddie can finish his sentence jeff and gareth interrupted him with questions on the upcoming campaign they’re having on friday, leaving the words on the tip of eddie’s tongue and y/n curious on what he was trying to say but before they could’ve continued their conversation the bell rang, announcing that first period was starting, both eddie and y/n went their separate ways.

Y/n’s eyes kept shifting to the clock nailed to the old, washed out white walls of her biology classroom, each tap from her pen made her more and more eager for lunch, she just wanted to be in eddie’s presence, maybe it was her guilty pleasure but seeing his round brown eyes, pink full lips, brown fluffy hair and veiny ringed fingers became part of her school routine. while y/n mindlessly stared out the window the piercing sound of the lunch bell rang, making y/n rush out the door with her book bag hanging from her left shoulder to eddie’s classroom so they can walk together to lunch, while y/n spotted the messy brown locs leaning against his classroom doorway she quickened her pace but suddenly stopped…he was talking to jessica james, smiling and giggling together, she was the one girl who seemed to have everything that y/n didn’t and now it seemed like she was gonna take eddie as well, jealousy and anger hit y/n like a wave and she didn’t know what to do, she knew this day would come and knew that eddie will branch out and be with beautiful women who fit his aesthetic and personality but it just wasn’t fair, it didn’t feel right. y/n decided to just turn from the scene that was a few inches away from her and rush to an empty classroom to isolate herself and be with her thoughts..

at lunch y/n was nowhere to been seen nor found, one minute eddie was talking to jessica about how she’ll confess to his friend gareth and what gift she bought him then the next minute his girl was gone, vanished from thin air, he couldn’t shake the aching feeling in his chest, he felt like y/n’s absence was his fault, he felt like him not being able to finish the conversation with y/n that was rudely interrupted was the reason why y/n wasn’t there. he knew he needed to fix this, someway somehow, he knew he needed to finally confess his love for her even if he has to scream from the tallest mountain on earth his undying love for her he will do it as many times he needed to. he couldn’t let the tired-less nights of him building up the confidence to tell her how much he loved her go to waste, he couldn’t let the deep conversations he had with his uncle wayne go to waste, he knew he needed to confess but he has to wait until dismissal where him and y/n would be together and away from nosy eyes, he just needed to wait a few more hours…

y/n didn’t ride with eddie after dismissal, she couldn’t…not after seeing her eddie with someone else, not after seeing him and jessica being so touchy with each other. y/n tried her hardest to distract her from the heavy pain in her heart, she did her homework, she cleaned the house from top to bottom, she went grocery shopping for her mom, she did her self care but still, as night fell and the rest of the world was asleep y/n stayed up, tired eyes glued to her ceiling and the aching feeling still very present and painful on her heart, she knew it was selfish to ignore and isolate herself from eddie but she just couldn’t face him, she couldn’t handle him leaving and falling in love with someone else. as poisonous thoughts kept her up she heard a soft knock at her window, her heart dropped to her stomach because she just knew it was eddie, y/n stayed still for a second then heard another soft knock at her window then a wobbly voice saying “please y/n can we talk” after hearing this she immediately got up and opened her window, her reddish eyes meeting the sad brown doe eyes of eddie “sweetheart please tell me why you’re ignoring me, please tell me i can’t handle my girl being angry with me, i can’t stomach it” eddie said with a deep frown permanently painted on his lips “eddie it’s nothing, i just been feeling a little down and just felt like the best thing to do is isolate myself” y/n explained while her hands softly rubbed again his leather covered arms, the sound of him calling her “my girl” made her stomach feel the familiarfeeling of butterflies erupting “can you tell me what’s been making you sad? is it me? i promise i can fix it just please tell me” eddie pleaded for y/n to open up, even just a little bit “i just think that tomorrow is a day that seems to always curse me, it’s so depressing being in love with someone so deeply just for them to barley acknowledge how much pain they cause. i hate seeing people being able to confess and openly admit their love for someone and i can’t.” y/n explained, her eyes closed due to frustration and her voice wobbling with sadness “i know this is going to sound selfish but i can’t keep it to myself anymore, eddie please tell me you’re in love with jessica so i can finally move on, i can’t keep having this aching feeling in my chest anymore ” y/n said, the tears finally spilling from her tired eyes. the room fell silent, the tension grew drastically and it felt suffocating to y/n, for the first time she didn’t know what he was thinking and that made her anxious but suddenly his soft voice filled the stilled air “sweetheart, you will never hear those words come out of my mouth because it’s not true, she isn’t the one i’m in love with. she isn’t the one i wanted to ask out on so many dates but chickened out, she isn’t the one i dream about, the one i cherish, the one i’ll bleed for, the one i see myself marrying one day. she’s not her, the only one i see anything with is you and only you.”

y/n heard the sincerely in his voice, she seen the love and tenderness he had in his eyes, she felt how much his words really meant and knew he spoke the truth and nothing but the truth, y/n finally knew her heart belonged to him and his to her and she absolutely loved it. y/n couldn’t contain the happiness she felt and smashed her lips onto his, something she always wondered and always wanted, and finally having it felt way better than any imagination she created. eddie kissed her back, smiling so wide from joy, he got his girl, finally

“i love you sweetheart”

“i love you too eddie”

[sleepyspnap]

On Cloud 9 -

steve harrington x eddie munson x reader 12k Words

NSFW- threesome(m/m/f), praise, degradation, bdsm, pillow princess steve, dom eddie, rope bondage, p in v, afab reader. Body and Race neutral

You and Steve Harrington were highschool sweethearts turned exes turned best friends. So when you become stressed from exams you know just the way to calm down. And you know just the guy to get it from.-

Where a trip to Eddie munsons house for weed turns into unpacking sexual tension for all three of you.::

TAGLIST

:: nsfw below the cut: minors dni 

Senior finals are objectively the easiest but most stressful part of anyone's high school career. Your eyes are aching under the fluorescent lights as you work on the same review packet you started three days ago. Two more weeks and you were out of there. 

The sharp ring of the bell made your body tense. 

The hallways were hell as you pushed through the sea of people, snarling your nose at the girls pressed to lockers like you weren’t that very girl three years ago as a puny freshman desperate for any attention you could get.

You scan the parking lot for the flaky paint of none other than Steve Harrington's car. He leaned against the hood, a blond girl with a ponytail twisting around her fingers beside him, a plastic dramatic smile on her face as she talked to him.

You scoff as you wait for cars before you cross. The all-familiar stench of marijuana filled your nose as a car slowly drove past. 

You thought for a moment about the last time you even smoked a joint. How you would absolutely kill to have a smoke and let ‘unit four of Advanced Algorithms’ fall from your mind. 

Steve’s eyes landed on your snarled nose and distasteful expression. He threw his hands up in a “what the hell?” gesture as you grew closer. The girl he was talking to– well she was more talking at him –watched in confusion as you walked up to them. 

“Really Harrington? High School girls?” You asked as you made a pained face at the, likely sophomore, girl who shifted her eyes around before excusing herself and shuffling away from you two.

“I wasn’t trying to talk to her like that man!” he tried to defend. “She came towards me and I blacked out!” He said in an exasperated tone before turning back to you. 

You saw that look on his face. Absolutely not. That was his look of ‘I’m about to be the biggest dick ever’.

His eyes squinted and you couldn't fathom that at one point you would melt under the gaze. 

“Were you jealous or something?” 

There it was. The classic Steve Harrington dick move.

You scoffed before turning to stomp to the passenger side of the car and fling open the door with an ear-piercing creak of rusty hinges.

“You so fucking wish dude,” you yelled over your shoulder. 

The car was boiling hot and you groaned in annoyance. You were tired and stressed, and a hot car making drips of sweat melt down the skin of your back wasn’t what you would prefer to be happening.

“What's up your ass today?” Steve jabbed as you slouched back.

“How much cash do you have?” You asked, his eyebrows furrow.

“What? Why?” 

“Will you buy me some pot?” You asked and he broke into a barking laugh.

“Dude, I hang with a bunch of geeky kids all the time. Do you think I know any drug dealers?”

You rolled your eyes remembering the days two years prior you would watch him at parties, a joint between his lips and his hand around your waist. 

Sat perched like his little trophy.

“Whatever. If I find a guy will you pay?” You asked, and he rubbed a hand over his forehead avoiding eye contact as you flashed him a desperate droopy-eyed look. 

He knew how to say no to you, but you couldn’t see him doing it now.

He also knew that everything seemed to suck extra bad recently, and how you used to unwind with a pipe against your lips in the backyard of his family's house.

“Yeah, yeah. Whatever. As long as we can share.” He stared pointedly at you. 

“Deal.” You nodded, flashing a thankful smile. 

He cranked the car, letting the engine loudly turn over while you tried to devise a plan when you saw him.

A long mess of curls, a cigarette between his lips.

You recalled hearing a girl talk about buying adderall from him at a party. Surely, if he was selling pills, he was bound to have some weed. 

A grin split across your face as you unclicked your seatbelt.

“Give me a second!” You shouted as you clumsily hauled yourself out of the car with Steve shouting after you.

Your anxiety swelled as you approached where Eddie and a few of his friends stood around the rusted bed of a truck. 

One of the guys with him took note of your steady walk towards them, tapping Eddie's arm and pointing.

You rolled the jewel of your necklace around in your hands as you shyly stood in front of him.

“Hi.” You breathed out, a tremendously awkward way to greet a guy you've never met.

“What?” He asked, taking a drag from his cigarette.

All of his friends stood behind him eyeing you as you flittered your gaze between them and the tall frame of Eddie.

“I uh, I was wondering if you sell?” You said, trying not to seem like some paranoid freshman by lowering your voice.

“Yeah, what do you need?” 

“Pot. An ounce or two maybe?” You reply wondering if his eyes are focused on the necklace rolling between your fingers or the cleavage underneath it.

“Yeah, yeah. I, uh, take my address real fast, stop by at 7, and you can look around?” 

“How much do you sell for?” You asked.

“How much you got?” he shrugged, smiling a little. You wondered if that was something he always does or if you're being an egocentric asshole for thinking he is.

“My friend is payin’ actually. Is it cool if he comes with tonight?” You gesture over to Steve, who was taking notice of you facing him. 

“Steve?” Eddie laughed a little. “He’s your friend?”

“Uh, yeah, we’re close or whatever,” You said, hoping to sound cooler than you were.

“Yeah, yeah, it's fine if he comes with, man. He knows two of my boys.” 

You nod and chew on your lip. The sun was becoming too hot on your skin and the imposing presence of the guy made you hot under the collar already.

“Here’s my address. 7,” Eddie said around his cigarette. He handed you a slip of paper between ringed fingers.

-

Steve wasn't happy to find out the club Mike and Dustin raved about was run by a drug dealer who failed senior year…twice. To which you snapped “I failed senior year too, asshole” And he shrugged in that annoying way he does when he knows he’s pressing a button.

“Whatever, dickwad, get home safe.” You reply as you both pull into your driveway. 

“Do you wanna hang out actually?” He asked before you could slam the door. 

“I mean, yeah,” You roll your eyes, pretending you weren’t a little bit glad he wanted you around after basically stealing his cash for drugs. “Come on.” You roll your eyes. You pretended that

-

You both lounged comfortably, giggling like middle schoolers with excitement. 

“I’ve been on the same review packet for three fucking days. I need a fucking joint and a vibrator right now.” You huffed as Steve finished telling you about the kids who decided to try to steal a porno movie. 

He scrunched his nose. “Dude, you don't need to tell me about your sexual frustration.” He bit. You rolled your eyes, letting your lips purse in annoyance.

“Steve.” You gritted out.

“What!” He said in that same ‘what did I do tone’ he loved so much.

“You have fucked me halfway to heaven before and if I want to talk about busting one good nut sometimes, I should be allowed to.” You finished your statement with a drawn-out grunt of annoyance. 

You never wanted to genuinely be a dickhead to Steve. However, there was something so infuriatingly relaxing about watching him shrink down as you bark out complaints. 

You both sat in silence for a while after that. His head had fallen to press against the side of yours, a comfortable reminder he was there. 

“It’s 6:45 and I don't know where that freak lives so we better get a move on,” Steve said as your eyes fluttered with exhaustion.

“Yeah, let's get goin’.”

-

Steve groaned as you pulled into a trailer park. The tires crackled loud through the quiet dark as they passed over the gravel roads.

“Max lives here. Can’t believe she's neighbors with a fucking drug dealer.” You heard Steve mutter.

It was amusing the way the kids always plagued his mind. They’d been through a lot together and it was refreshing that there was someone there to understand. 

You thought about all the times Steve would explain something to you and you'd sit with tears in your eyes; Imagining the much smaller faces of the kids going through what they did. 

So yeah, it wasn’t too satisfying to pull into the driveway across from the red-haired girl's home. 

With slightly rusted gutters and a dirty yellow paint job, Eddie Munson's home looked… Normal. 

Like every other home on the street. Slightly gritty, the windows visibly dirty and a yellow light shining from inside. 

You glance towards Steve as you anxiously glare at the door. 

“Are you gonna stand here” Steve whisper yelled at you blinked with hesitation up at him before he sighed, raising his fist to knock hard. 

“Jesus Christ, Steve! He’s gonna think we’re the fuckin’ feds!” You snapped.

The door clicked open a moment before Steve could bite back a response. You stared in a state of shock for a moment as Eddie gave you a greeting smile.

“Hey! Glad you could make it. Uh, come in, mind the, uh, everything.” He said gesturing around with a cigarette that laid lit in his fingers.

He made a wide gesture that almost made you bark out laughing. His arms held wide in the direction of a hallway where a wooden door lay slightly cracked, music thumping a heavy beat behind it. 

“So, let me see.” He said as you glanced awkwardly around. Your eyes landed on the familiar patterns of album covers you had in your room. The walls were littered with band posters and what you could only assume were dungeon and dragons monsters by the snarled teeth and almost childlike art style. 

How was he such a fucking nerd and kept a biting, fire-hot aura going?

“Ok so, I have adderall, oxys, annnnnd molly, pill-wise.” You scrunch your nose in denial.

“I can’t imagine how insanely sufferable you’d be on an adderall” Steve jabbed, elbow clicking to your side in a light push.

“Fuck off, dude,” You rolled your eyes. You wanted to blush at him teasing you in front of a drug dealer.

“Ok, I get that. I am actually pretty stocked on pot right now though. What strain we thinking?” Eddie asked before pulling jars from a wobbly dresser. 

“Uh, what's good for stress?” Steve asked before you could reply. God damn, you wish he’d let you talk.

“Indica, dumbass. Now let me pick it and shut it.” You offered a fake smile, taunting him with a grin that leaked with sarcasm.

“Indica, yeah. Let me actually go grab one from the kitchen first.” 

You nodded and he brushed past you, his toned arms brushing against you with a firecracker spark. 

“Isn't that the stupid band you listen to?” Steve asked, gesturing towards a Sex Pistols poster on Eddie’s wall.

“They’re not stupid!” You frowned hard at him.

Eddie returned as Steve replied. “Any band with ‘Sex’ in the name should be sick. They just sound like music that makes people bully you in the hallways.” 

“Woah! You got something against the Pistols, Harrington?” Eddie said boisterously as he slid into the room with two jars in his hands.

“He was popular in high school which means his music taste is trash.” You said lowly, more to yourself than the room. But Eddie chuckled low, snapping his fingers with a hissing sound.

“She got you!” He laughed.

You smiled a little and Steve even had a bit of a grin tugging the corner of his lips.

“You like good music then, huh?” Eddie asked as he twisted the lid of one of the jars before letting you sniff it. It was smooth and strong, nostalgic almost.

“Yeah?” He asked looking over at you with an expecting grin.

You sniffed again almost moaning with just the smell of what made you feel so very eased.

“Perfect.” You replied. Steve cocked his head at you. 

“Good weed smells heavenly, dude. You always had that rich kid shit that smelled like roadkill and was most definitely half bay leaves.” You pat Steve's shoulder, holding in an apologetic way onto the crook of his arm. 

“That's probably true. I know the guy who sold to all the rich douches on the basketball team and there's most definitely more than just some cabinet spices in that shit.” 

Steve snorts a little to your surprise.

“This is $20 an ounce. Before you say anything though, I've never had a better bong rip in my life than with this.” Eddie threw his head back in a reminiscent grin.

“I only have a bowl. Does it still hit as good?” You asked and he shook his head, frizzy curls shaking with the move.

He scoffed.

“Listen, my uncles out all night and you-“ he cleared his throat eyes darting to Steve who stood lost in staring around Eddie's clutter.

“You seem cool enough so why don’t we smoke some here with my bong, and I can grab some drinks too?” 

It was a shock really.

Being told you’re cool was already absurd enough, but being cool enough to be offered to smoke with an admittedly good-looking guy who you just so happened to be very similar to. 

“Uh? I'm cool with that if you are?” Steve said as you stood in stunned silence. 

“Oh- yeah, yeah. That’s fine!” You choked out trying not to let heat overtake your face.

“Sick! You can hang in the living room and I’ll grab some beers. Beers?” Eddie ask.

“Beers fine,” Steve politely said and you remembered in shame how much of a lightweight you are. 

“I’m good, thanks,” You waved dismissively as you followed Steve to the living room.

-

Eddie was so right about how smooth it hit. 

You threw your head back and closed your eyes as you held in the first puff of smoke. Opening them again slowly to watch the smoke cloud in front of you. 

Eddie's eyes watched intensely as you smiled and nodded, handing the glass over to Eddie. 

You felt the first rush of soothing calm lick behind your eyelids, that warm quilt in your chest as it settled.

Your mind wandered.

Eddie looked good. His hands were nice to look at. The rings on his fingers clinked against the bong as he passed it to Steve who nodded in thanks. You watched the smoke pool from Eddie's lips as he leaned back waiting to feel the warm feeling soak through his body.

“Good?” You ask as Steve breathes out. He shrugs and you roll your eyes before taking the lighter, flicking it to the bowl before pulling it out and letting the smoke fill your lungs in a rush.

You held back a cough, laughing a little as Eddie repeated you.

After a few more passes and refills, you were in your element. Thick weight on your chest, little tingles on the tips of your fingers. You couldn’t stop giggling as Eddie explained DND to Steve. 

From your spot with your head in his lap, you watched as Steve's eyes furrowed in confusion. His eyes were glossy, his lips cracked slightly. 

“Why does a 20 always mean critical hit?” Steve asked slowly, making you and Eddie groan loud in sync making the both of you laugh a little.

You giggled through your words as you loudly told Steve that a nat 20 is different from adding your own character's stats.

“That's so complicated and stupid!” Steve complained and you scoffed.

“You’re just an idiot.” 

“You failed your senior year, dip shit!” He deflected, making you twist into a dramatized fake crying face.

“So, how do you two even know each other?” Eddie asked from the opposite side of the room.

Your giggles caught you again as you watched Eddie crack a grin at you.

“We used to date actually.” 

Eddie raised his brows. “Really? How are you so close after a breakup?” Eddie asked, taken aback by the idea that Steve ‘the smooth talker’ had gone for, to simply put it, you.

“She's too irritating for anyone else, so I keep her around.” Steve teased, but in opposing action let his hand gently card through your hair.

“It’s because you get to see my boobs at sleepovers.” You said with an eye roll. 

“That’s so not true! I can see so many boobs anytime I want, dude. You’re not special.” 

“Steve! Didn’t know you turned that route after high school!” Eddie said making you bark out a laugh, clutching at your sides. Steve’s laughing vibrated from under you in a gentle reminder it was all banter at the end of the day. 

“You do it for my tits. Don’t try to lie!” You feign attitude.

“Okay? I’m allowed to though because I’ve seen like, everything else too!” Steve quips back. 

Your cheeks flush a little as he basically just said how he's seen you bare naked in front of a guy you’re just getting to know.

“You’re disgusting. Don’t bring up us banging in front of Eddie!” 

“Dude, I can only assume the best for Steve and guess you banged before anyways,” Eddie said from his spot. Steve laughs loud and sharp, a jeering lilt at Eddie taking his side this time.

“And I was the best damn lay you’ll ever get!” You snapped making both boys chuckle low.

“You’re pretty good, I guess” Steve shrugged glancing down at where you gaped at him.

“Just ‘pretty good’?” Eddie snickers making your cheeks flush. It was hard to swallow the thought of Eddie thinking of how Steve regularly blew your back out two years prior.

“Is that why I had to teach you how to finger?” You muttered to Steve who choked for a second.

Hot arousal was pooling, much to your disliking. Weed happened to make you unbearably horny and to make it worse, Steve knew.

You tried not to rub your legs together. Fighting the urge to let memories of cumming around your best friend's fingers flicker about in your head.

Steve lazily grabs at the forgotten beer before struggling to twist the lid. 

“Ah, shit. Sorry, man. I don’t think we have a bottle opener either.” Eddie slurred a bit from his loose position on the sofa.

“I got one in my car. Let me grab it?”

Steve sat you up slowly nodding at you to check if you were good. You nodded with a thankful smile. 

You heard the door shut as your stoned mind focused on where the door lay open to Eddie's room. A queen-sized bed lay adjacent to the door. Attached to the railing of the headboard shined silver handcuffs, the bars beside it clung with slick rope.

“So, Steve’s pretty cool for a jock. I’m actually super shocked. Like I know Mike and Dustin are close with him, but I always assumed it was some nerd-parental figure shit, ya know?” 

You turned to Eddie who was already looking at you with lidded eyes. 

“Why do you have rope on your bed?” You blurt. 

Confusion clouded the rational thought of, “Maybe don't ask a guy you just met about random objects in his bedroom.”

“Are you serious?” Eddie asked, leaning forward with a wide smile, his elbows rest excitedly on his knees. His bracelets made small clinking noises at the quick shift of his movement.

“Uh, yeah?” You ask hesitantly. 

“You never been tied up? Like none of your exes were into that?” 

Humiliation set in before shock could and you gaped at his bemused smile.

“No! I’ve only fucked Steve and we see where that ended up.” 

“You know what S&M is?” He asked after. You shook your head. 

Steve was taking a while, huh?

You looked in his eyes, all but darkening, making a rising feeling seep into your guts.

“It’s like, uh, submissive and master. Like one person, me, likes to be in charge. And the other person likes giving up control. The ropes are to tie the sub down and watch ‘em squirm.” 

You gaped. A flicker of something slipped through your thoughts- Eddies hand around your throat, kissing your neck as you beg. Dirty things you've only read about in the novels you hid under your bed. 

“Oh, uh. Wow. No, I’ve never been with anyone who was into that.” You sputter and he shrugs. His shoulders are really broad. It was actually ironic that he was into pinning girls down with how looming of a frame he had. All broad shoulders, thick biceps.

You thought about how large his hands were. How they would fit so easily around your wrists as his curls fell around his face from where he watched you writhe. 

Your cheeks were pink, a wave of heat flooding you. Your limbs felt like electricity and it felt as if you were pinned under his bemused gaze.

“You’re thinking about it now?” He asked, it was a blatant answer that loomed over you both. A thick heavy tension made it apparent that yes, you were thinking about it. 

“About what?” You asked flatly, straining to keep your voice from faltering.

“You know. It’s been ages since I’ve had someone interested in these things. If you wanna try something out, I'm open for business.” His smirk was hell-sent. It was as if God's own fallen angel sat across from you, brimstone flames licking at your cheeks.

“Are you proposing to me, Munson?” You asked with a slight grin.

You’re high was less surrounding, leaving lapping surges of history confidence and an ocean full of loose-lipped responses.

You knew from way too much experience what could happen in this state. Your mind clicked back to the times the slip of a thought led you to the twisted sheets of none other than Steve.

“If that’s okay,” He asked, a more serious look on his face. It was the kind of little gesture that made your hot cheeks rise with a grin.

“I dunno. Let’s see what happens.” You hope the vagueness is endearing. That the teasing lilt will have him keyed up just the way it does with Steve.

You feel a little peculiar for a moment. The way everything seems to tie to Steve when thinking about sex. 

It was a newer realization, that maybe you still wanted him, just a little. It wasn't like you couldn’t imagine sex with anyone else. You just missed sex with him.

How he writhed under you, his whimpers. You couldn’t shake the memories as you stared blankly towards Eddies own glossed-over gaze.

The fire in your gut was boiling now and with a split-second moment of adrenaline that splashed like cold water over you, you stood.

Your jaw clenched as you stared at Eddie, building your confidence to move. However, the second you let your eyes catch his again, you saw his dark gaze. You felt the hard face you had a moment ago melt. As he stood, it was like a rabbit under the dripping jaws of a starved wolf.

He stood slowly, not making moves to draw closer but staring down at you with a determined look. Your eyes wavered down at his pink tongue. The way it slipped between his thin pursed lips, leaving a trail of shining saliva across the cracked skin.

Through your hazy mind, you let yourself wonder what that same tongue would feel like against your skin.

Was it smooth and slick, or was there a scratchy feeling like Steves? Rough from years of hot coffee and impatience.

“We just standing around?” Eddie jabbed, his voice was soft, not daring to speak loud enough that the heavy tension cracked.

You drew your brows in, looking down at your feet against the yellowed carpet. 

That’s how you saw his boots take a step. Moving towards you at a weary pace like a  predator stalking in calculated moves around its prey before it made its attack. 

And attack he did.

You could smell the cologne he dabbed himself in, obviously trying and failing to cover the smell of musk and cigarettes. You could hear his breathing with the silence in the room, the low humming of the air conditioner the only noise to bade off a surely deafening silence.

You fought not to jump away in surprise when the rough tips of his fingers touched your jaw.

He ran them in a slow slide from under your ear and down your neck. A shiver ran up your spine as you let your head tilt back to look up at him.

You watched with saccharine sweet feelings whirling up. His big puppy dog eyes were animalistic admiring, his own hand that still ran down the expanse of your neck at a slow pace, up and down.

“Is this something you want?” He asked lowly. 

“Depends on what ‘this’ is” You breathed, nervousness tightening your voice.

He stood there quietly, eyes watching as you all but melted with the gentle slide of his hands. 

“Can I kiss you?”  He spoke after a moment. 

Like an instinct, your head bobbed in an enthusiastic nod.

A small smile was on his lips as you lurched to meet him in the middle.

Immediately, he took control. His hands slid to grab the back of your neck, possessively holding you in place. His kiss was firm but not rough. You let him move how he pleased, following like a dog awaiting its next command.

It was abnormal to submit to someone. You weren’t used to the way you melted like jelly in his palms, how it made you fight down a whimper when he aggressively slid a hand to your waist before jerking your body towards him. Your frames collided with a rough thump, you could feel your back arch into him.

His tongue slid in with confidence. Letting him explore your mouth, ever so slightly brushing your tongue against him. He pulled away, your lips both spit slick with the lingering taste of the smoke from earlier on both your tongues.

You felt the need to whine at his departure. You’d never been desperate like this, never pliant in someone's hands the way you suddenly seemed to be.

He chuckled a bit as you chased his lips.

“Asking again, are we just standing around?” 

This time you knew what he meant by that. You sucked your lip in anticipation as you fought the urge to smile in satisfaction.

You ran your hands up his chest, thick and firm under your fingertips before you lifted to your tiptoes letting your lips move close to his ear.

“I’d love to see those ropes up close.” You whispered to him. His hands gripping roughly on your sides.

He breathed in a deep breath making you smile in satisfaction.

“Up.” was all he said slowly before you felt him grab the back of your thighs. You gasped, letting your legs wrap around him. You only had a moment to stare down in shock before he had his lips on your neck.

Your eyes fluttered under his attention. He stumbled slightly to press you to the wall of the hallway. 

“Are you still okay with this?” He muttered into the skin of your neck.

You whined for the first time as he pulled away. You looked down at his droopy eyes, gazing with a softness not expected.

“You sound so pretty, baby. Can't wait to see what else you can do.” 

You gasped as his teeth attached to your neck. 

“Eddie.” You whined as he sucked on the skin below your ear. You didn't have nearly enough clear thoughts to say, ‘no marks’. You were at the point where you would beg to have the smatter of red marks all over you if it meant you could feel his teeth, his lips, the slide of his tongue.

“You’re whiny huh? So sensitive you just have to cry for it.” Eddie spoke, his breath against the wet skin making you almost writhe.

“Don’t be an asshole.” You scoffed, trying not to show how breathless you were.

He pressed you harder into the wall.

“I liked it better when you were just whining, baby. Don’t give me lip, you won't like where that leads you.” 

You opened your mouth in shock and he slipped a tongue into your mouth. With the way he pinned you to the wall you could feel where his cock had stiffened, now half hard in the tight jeans he wore.

“Sh-shit” You whimpered, grinding down on it experimentally. He pulled off your skin with a noise before looking up at you with a deep look.

“Don’t be a greedy whore.” Was all he said. Your eyes all but rolled back.

“Sorry guys, I got the opener and I guess max saw me so I wanted to make sure she was–” He stopped.

You’d completely forgotten about the idiot. He stood there with his stupid wide eyes, his mouth gaping.

“I’m gonna-“ 

Eddie leaned into your ear. “Why don’t you ask him to join?” 

Your body lit up and you stumbled away from Eddie with weak knees. “If it’s okay with you, why don’t you, uh, stay? It’s not like we haven’t done it before. It’s just now there’s also someone else.

You felt hot with the hope he would agree. You missed sex with him, his soft body under yours, hands digging into your hips while you took control of him.

“Oh, uh. What am I joining exactly?” He asked, ever the stupid pretty boy he was.

Eddie spoke this time.

“A threesome. If that’s something you're into?” 

“A-are you? Into it I mean? I mean I've never had another guy see my wang.” Steve replied his cheeks flushed pink.

You grinned, slowly letting a puppy dog pout fall over your face as you walked into his space.

“Come on. He can tie me up all good and I can ride you. Or suck you off while he fucks me. Or the other way. Or he could fuck you, the options are really-“

“Slow down, race horse,” Eddie said lowly as he slid up behind you. Eddie and Steve were both taller, leaving you sandwiched between the two.

“Uh, yeah. That sounds pretty hot actually.” Steve said breathless, with a nervous chuckle.

“Great, why don’t we get started and set some boundaries then. I wanna know limits before I wreck you, both of you.”

It was a little shocking the way Eddie's eyes darkened towards Steve's nervous stance. He looked the same way earlier right before devouring you in practiced kisses.

“First off. I’m always in control.” Eddie said, leaning next to your ear. You melted back into his chest as he pecked at your neck.

“That's- That's good. Steve’s a bit of a pillow princess. Isn't that right baby?” 

He blushed, looking down and biting his lip.

“Oh come on Steve. No need for that.” Eddie crooned.

“How about we just see where it goes okay? Stoplight system for safety?” You offer, raising your slightly trembling hands to Steve's cheeks.

“Yeah, yeah. Okay. Lead the way”

You grin up at him pressing a kiss under his jaw before excitedly bounding after Eddie.

Ring-covered fingers gripped you again as he pulled you into the room.

“Put on a show for him,” Eddie whispered as Steve entered, the door clicking behind him. 

You met Eddie in an open-mouth kiss, hands coming to curl into his hair. 

Steve made a small choked sound making you smile into Eddie's kiss. 

Eddies lips left yours with a wet click and he was immediate to latch onto the soft stretch of your neck.

You whimpered at the rough bites he left, eyes fluttering open to catch where  Steve's eyes, glossy and red-rimmed, lay locked to the two of you. His hands clenching by his sides.

“S-Steve.” You whined, and he seemed to jump at his name.

“Come” is all you whimpered to him and he was by you. You looked at him from over eddies shoulder, eyes fluttering at him as lips worked deep bruises into your collar. 

Steve blinked down at you and with a quivering lip asked. “Can I kiss you please?” 

You smiled at him, his want evident, his puppy dog eyes satisfying and pleading.

You nodded and before a soft praise for asking permission could leave your mouth, he slammed onto you.

You two were always rough kissers. Desperate and hungry and in love. The few times you two had hooked up right after the break-up, you remember wondering how you were ever going to go back to the gentle pecks of other guys.

You felt hands grip rough onto the swell of your ass and you disconnected from Steve's mouth. 

“Don’t get him too wound up already, baby. He’s gotta last two rounds.”

You keened at Eddie's words. He had devised his own little plan and you knew he was, to put it lightly, imaginative.

“I’m going easy on you, both of you, but it doesn’t mean I'm not going to be nice.” 

You felt your cunt throb. You were already wet. 

Eddie turned to look at Steve. A smirk creaking onto his lips. 

“Anything you need to say, Harrington?” Eddie asked, stepping in close to Steve.

“No, nothing,” Steve said.

“Do you want to be good for me tonight?” 

It was whiplash, the earlier banter was now replaced by a dance of submission and domination.

Steve whined, nodding enthusiastically. By now Steve was usually clinging to you and whimpering in anticipation as you described what you were going to do. 

You could see him twitching to make contact, to feel Eddie's skin against where he was heating up all over.

Eddie raised those ringer-clad fingers, pushing them to the hair tamed nicely at the nape of Steve's neck.

In a snap, his fingers were gripping the locks. Steve whined, high and wet in his throat. You loved him like this more than he knew. And from the way, Eddie stared up a tongue running against his bottom lip, he did too.

From the grip of the hair behind his head, Eddie pulled him close so they shared a breath. Steve's hands coming to clutch at Eddie's shirt.

“Here's what your gonna do. If you don’t listen carefully, there's a ring in my drawer that would look beautiful on your cock.” Eddies words made you a bit jealous, a bit dizzy, and a whole lot excited.

You never saw Steve crumble under your words the way he was with Eddie. 

“I want your hands above your head. If in the first round you can behave, I'll unhook you and you can touch as you please.” Eddie said. A sweet kiss pressed to Steve's mouth, leaving a moment for objection before he pulled away to turn to the bed. 

“Take your shirt off and I'll get you done up all pretty huh?.” Eddie said softer than before. You shuffled awkwardly and as Steve stripped his shirt while Eddie glanced back at you.

“Don’t look so left out sweet baby. I have even better things for you.” 

You bit your lip, your head gaining that pleasant, fuzzy wave. 

With trembling knees you watched him skillfully secure Steve to his headboard, the glint of the silver cuffs looked delicious around his wrists.  Even more appealing was Eddie leaning softly in and kissing Steve with a gentle peck. 

“All good?” He asked sweetly and Steve nodded enthusiastically with a gentle grin.

When Eddie's eyes were back on you, it was that lingering excitement all over again.

He all but strutted over to you. His hands moving in an easy slide under your shirt, touching the bare skin of your waist. 

“Mmm, you’re so soft, baby. Wanna sink my teeth into every part of you” He growled and you sucked your already swollen lip in once more to hold back pleas.

“Now, you're gonna put on a little show for me and Steve while I tell you all about what's coming. Does that sound good?” He asked. You nodded, moving to kiss him but stopped when his hand grabbed your face. His thumb dug deliciously into your cheek.

“Ah ah. You have to ask for that now. You only get what I give you. “ You nodded to the best of your ability still in his tight clutch. 

“Are you okay with slapping, my darling?” He asked.

Your eyes widened and you nodded.

He pulled his hand away from your face with a satisfied look.

“Okay. You wanna know what that means though, pretty?” It was rhetorical but with his dramatic pause you wanted to blurt out ‘what?!’.

“It means you don’t listen, I’m gonna slap your pretty face until you do. You wanna go home to mommy with a red cheek, darling? Or are you gonna be a good whore.”

The moan you let out was pornographic and he chuckled. It was all but condescending, the way he so casually made his requests and held you on his little rope wrapped right around his finger.

“Now strip. Show us the goods, baby.” He muttered in your ear before pressing a final fleeting kiss under your ear.

You did as he said, obediently. Unbuckling the belt of your pants in unhurried hesitations.

“You’re gonna ride Steve first okay. I want your back facing him and I'm gonna face you. You’re gonna listen to everything I say and show Steve what he's been missing.”

In a right mind, you know both you and the latter would make a biting remark about how if you really missed it this wouldn't be the first sex you've had together in almost two years. But you resided to smiling at him with anticipation.

“Aw, don’t look so happy yet, baby. You wanted to try my ropes, I remember.” You stopped where you were unbuttoning the front of your shirt.

“Your hands are gonna be behind your back until you come. No touching until Steve gets you off. Is that okay?” He glances at you and Steve. You nod with enthusiasm and Steve rolls his head back lightly before muttering, ‘Yes’ in a mind-bending whine.

“Get on with it then. We don’t have all-day, hot stuff” Eddie gestured and you fumbled for a moment with the rest of your shirt’s buttons. 

His eyes on you made your hands tremble and the wetness between your legs was all the more distracting than you focusing on slipping the small ceramic buttons through their holes. 

With frustration, you finally shed the shirt. 

Eddie, ever the guy he was, whistled in appraisal as you stood in baggy jeans and a red satin bra. 

It was older, your chest pushed against the cups in resistance as the cups struggled to hold you all in.

“Aren't you just bursting out, darling? Hiding all that under those stupid button-ups is really a shame.” 

You never knew that the praise you’d been accustomed to spewing would make the hot tendrils of satisfaction wrap around you. This entire thing was full of revelations, anticipating what more you were going to learn in this.

You slid your pants down leaving you in your bra and a tight pair of women's boy shorts.

Eddie's eyes were glued to the plush of your thighs. Steves's desperate eyes were bouncing from the space between your shoulders and where the hem of your boy shorts held to your skin.

He’d seen it before and you never let it pass your mind every time he ogled you, just how good it felt to be so appealing in his eyes.

“Come here,” Eddie's voice was low again, it flipped you back to when he’d said the same words earlier. Where all of this began.

You strode over, daringly moving to rub a hand through his hair. His hand gripped your wrist, fast and rough. 

“Don't touch.” 

His voice was heavy. You let out a small gasp as he turned your wrist, still gripped tightly by him. Pressing a gentle kiss to your palm he tugged hard, you were against him quickly, bare skin against the fabric of his rough jeans.

You settled in his lap, glancing briefly to where Steve was wide-eyed.   

“Look at me, angel.” 

Your head snapped back to look at his small smile. You couldn’t help but lean in and press a kiss to his lips. 

Then you pulled away, sharing a breath for a moment, his hands moving up the bare skin of your back.

“I should punish you for not asking, but that was just too cute.” He smiled into a kiss he pressed wetly against your sternum.

The hands on your back climbed up and you felt, with eased practice, he unclips your bra. 

With joyous excitement you let your arms drop from where you gripped his shoulders. The silky straps slide down your arms and Eddies eyes flicked between your face and where the burgundy cloth slid.

You smiled shifting higher on your knees so you had the plush swells of your breasts right in his eyesight.

His eyes stared wide, well wider than they naturally already were, his big hands calloused against the tender skin of your waist.

He pressed a few more kisses to your chest before letting his lips trail in searing trails to the peaks of your tits.

You felt your nipples pebble, begging to feel the rough slide of the fingers, hardened from his guitar, rub against them. Or the heat of his mouth wrapping around them and sucking until they were red and swollen.

You thought of Steve again. Your eyes fluttered with enjoyment as Eddie covered you in hickies, you panned to look at the man all tied up.

He was stiff in his jeans. Well, it could also be half mass, it was hard to tell with a dick his size. You remembered its stretch, how thick it was. 

Eddie finally placed a kiss on your nipples making your eyes jump down to where he worked diligently. 

 He pulled away just as the fuzzy feeling all but consumed you. You squirmed, barely brushing the obvious hard-on in his tight pants.

“Now I see why Steve uses excuses to see these.” 

Steve only made a whine in response, obviously not enjoying being ignored. 

“I think he's getting jealous. Why don't you give him some attention, baby?” Eddie cooed and you nodded scrambling to settle on Steve's lap. 

His eyes watched with widened amusement as you smiled at him. “You look really good so desperate again.”

You could hear Eddie rustling behind you and let yourself have a moment with Steve.

“I’m really looking forward to this, ya know.” You jabbed once again. Leaning into his space for a teasing moment before, ever the impatient asshole he was, Steve surged forward and kissed you.

It was different than Eddie. Way more familiar, less desperate heat, and more common practice, muscle memory for you both.

As you were beginning to lose yourself in Steve's kisses, how he whimpered softly into your mouth, you felt Eddie shift. He sat behind you, Steve's knees bent to give him space. You tried to pay no mind to the slight tension that filled you, anticipating his next move. 

Then a hand was gripping your hair, you shrieked as you were jerked up. Your back was flush to Steve's thighs, you could feel his hard-on against where you were leaking with wetness.

“That’s enough,” Eddie muttered in your ear, his attention quickly shifting to Steve. 

“Having fun yet, pretty boy?” Eddie crooned and Steve nodded with shocked eyes. 

With gooey movements, Eddie wiggled around you and attached a kiss to Steve's bare chest. 

“You’re doing real good, bunny.” 

The name made Steve keen. You never knew he was one for the soft lovey names. 

Eddie swiped a sticky piece of hair from Steve's forehead planting a kiss before you barely heard what he spoke.

“Such a desperate bitch, Steve. All whiny for anything we give you. You like being just a little toy for us, bunny?” 

Steve nodded quickly and Eddie let out that deep rumbling laugh that made your toes curl.

“You’ll get attention soon.” He said before pulling back. 

Eddies hands ran along the waistband of your underwear, a gentle silence before he eased you down to lay against Steve's chest. 

The hair tickled your face a little but the warm skin came in comfort. 

“Gonna prep you for him. Alright?” Eddie asked, very well knowing from the dark patch on your underwear that you were nothing short of pleading for him to get on with it.

“Let's get you tied up first how about that honey?” 

You wanted to kick your feet and stomp like a toddler. Every time you were hopeful of finally getting what you need it seemed Eddie found more and more ways to wind you up.

His hands roughly grabbed at your arms. Pinning them behind your back, the damp skin of your back flat against both of your forearms.

“Such a good bitch.” Eddie muttered, and with a quick move, his hand colliding with the skin of your ass. 

You almost screamed, a choked wet sound finding its way out instead. 

His hand kneaded the fat where he slapped, undoubtedly now cherry red. 

“Again.” You pant, and as if he knew you would ask he gripped your flesh again.

“Say it properly.” He scolded. 

“Please!” You whimpered.

He clicked his tongue. “Now, you're missing an important part baby. Don't fuck this up before I even get inside you darling.” 

“P-please slap me again, Sir!” 

In another quick movement, another loud slap was heard and you gripped onto Steve a little tighter from where ur arms had jerked up and out of Eddies positioning.

It wasn't long though before he gripped your arms again and you were gnawing your lip with anticipation.

The rope isn't thick, it was a silky smooth black length and felt delicious against your skin. Eddie worked it around you with skilled hands. Tugging and lifting to bind you fully.

 You pulled a little to test his knots and were pleasantly met with resistance.

“Good girl,” Eddie muttered into your ear. “Roll-off, “ He said and nudged you slightly until you unwind yourself from Steve and rolled to the empty space beside him.

Eddie quickly crowded into Steve's space, murmuring to him before pressing a gentle kiss from behind his ear and connecting with his mouth. It was open mouth and desperate, Eddie's hand shimmying in an unhurried pace down Steve's body until he cupped Steves hard on.

Steve whined and you finally got to watch fully as a pleased smile passed over Eddie's face. 

With a few mutters you couldn't quite hear, and a few kisses in between, Eddie was pulling Steve's jeans off.

He passed bites and kisses to Steve's legs as he reached Steve's ankle pressing one final kiss before dropping them and tossing away the clothes.

He slowly but surely removed Steve's boxers, the familiar thick length baby pink and throbbing hard. 

“He’s already dripping for you,” Eddie said to you as he leaned back. Steve gasped out and squirmed with the newfound cool air against the heat of his erection.

If you could lift yourself up, you’d be pouncing to lick up the puddle of precum that glistened off his tip.

Eddie smiled lazily at both of you, his eyes droopy with lust. It wasn't long before he silently pointed at you and curled his finger in a come hither. 

You squirmed and arched trying to sit up. It was an embarrassing display of desperation.

He chuckled before moving to roughly grip your waist, he pulled you up with ease and you slumped against his chest, dazed and burning with want. 

He kissed your shoulders before turning you around to face Steve who was offering a gentle smile. 

“Lay how you were before. I’ve changed plans.” He said and Steve whined as the bare skin of your thigh brushed his hard-on as you moved with stumbling jerks to reposition.

“God, honey, you look so pretty scrambling to listen even when you're all tied up. So desperate to please me, huh?”

You nodded as he pressed himself to your back. 

“You can speak.” 

You whined loud before speaking. 

“Feels so- feels so embarrassing.” You panted. Eddie just chuckled against your marked skin. The bruises began to ache as he pressed his lips back over the darkening cherry splotches.

“I’m gonna get you off first. And then Steve can cum down your throat. How’s that for ya?” He asked, turning between you and Steve.

It wasn't that Steve had a low libido. He could crank three out in two hours easily. But with how red and leaking, how gooey he looked already. He was one and done. 

It was a bit of an ego boost how easy it was for Steve to come for you. You wondered what it would be like with Eddie for a moment. Only a moment though because a hand was pushing the wet fabric of your panties to the side and a rough, thick finger ran up the length of your cunt.  

You had to fight to lean forward and sink your teeth into Steve's skin to relieve the tension you felt.

“You don't like when I tease?”  Eddie asked, rubbing his, now cum slick fingers over the round skin of your ass.

“Just want you so bad, sir!” You pleaded. It was a new feeling. To be so overwhelmingly needy, enough so you could abandon your humility like this and beg for him.

You could hear Eddie's smile as he spoke. 

“It’s what you get for earlier. Asking me all those questions with your pretty little eyes just begging me to show you.” 

His finger grazed your clit. It was swollen and hot as he split two fingers and softly edged around it. It offered just enough to make your breath quicken.

“You have no idea what you’re doing to me, baby.” He bit into your shoulder again. 

You arched against his touch as he spread dampness around your clit before running a finger over it.

“F-fuck!” You moaned as he rubbed soft circles into your core.

“Does it feel good?” He asked.

Your mind was too clouded with the need for more. A firmer touch, a quicker slide.

“More!” You plead, Steve choking when you felt your clothes cunt brush against his cock.

“Aw baby. You sound so good begging for me but-“ He quickly gripped your throat, pulling you back flush against his chest for the umpteenth time. 

You screamed, desperately grinding down onto Steve's hard-on.

“Stop,” Eddie said through gritted teeth. You halted every movement. There was only the noise of your panting.

“I knew you could be a good girl.” He praised his thumb running up and down on your throat, the striking cold rings made your skin bloom into goosebumps.

His hand slid down to the waist of your panties, hand still lightly pressed against your neck. 

He toyed with it for a brief second before sliding his hand in them and rubbing in quick tight circles on your clit. 

Supernovas exploded behind your eyes and you curled your back against him.

“Steve, doesn't she just look wonderful?” Eddie asks and Steve chuckles.

“Forgot how hot she is, fuck.” Steve breathed. You felt your thighs shake around Eddie's hand.

“Lean forward now,” Eddie said smoothly, releasing your neck. He pressed a kiss against your back before you leaned down, arching your back for him.

You could die with the feeling of his hands on you, the slight burn of his facial hair where he had kissed you raw.

He slid your panties to the side again, using his middle finger to slide towards your hole. You whined, fighting the urge to grind against him. 

It didn't even take begging though. His finger slid to circle the wetness of your hole before sliding his finger in.

You clenched in pleasure and his thick finger slid into your heat with no resistance.

“Mmm, so tight baby. How'd you give up pussy this good, Harrington?” 

You melted under Eddie's touch. His fingers seemed skilled, curling to press to the soft mesh of your g-spot.

He thrust them a few times before, with ease, slid in a second. You moaned, high in your throat, mouth falling open to pant against Steve's skin.

“Does that feel good, my pretty little slut?” 

“Yes, sir! Your fingers are so thick, Eddie!” You writhed, the breath being punched out of you as he sped up his thrusts. 

You could hear the squelching of your arousal. How soaking you were from how he was fingering you.

“Are you already getting close?” Eddie chided and you noticed how your cunt was spasming around his digits. The coil that was tightening in your gut was growing with pent-up tension.

“Yes! Yes, fuck! I wanna cum.” You exclaim. Drool was already dribbling by the time he was on his third finger. 

You wanted to whine for his cock. It was hard not to, you weren’t used to this desperate urge to please. The all-consuming need to do what he says to earn his praises in the deep rumbling of his voice. 

You felt the coil wind tighter. Teetering on the edge with thighs shaking, trying not to move in case he stopped ramming into the spot that felt like firecrackers exploded under your skin. 

As soon as you felt like you were being granted your release he pulled away. 

You cried out pushing back in desperation. 

“Aw, baby girl. You can’t come just yet. You want me to fuck you, right?” 

You nodded with teary eyes. You tugged at your binds wanting to cling to Steve's skin under you.

“Want your cock so bad Eds!” You cried. 

“Holy shit-“ You heard steve breathe. You made a subtle grind down onto his cock.

“Never heard her whine for it, Eddie. You’re so good, fuck. You’re both so hot.” Steve said, you squirmed, shifting to suck a mark into his skin in a disgustingly mushed, desperate way. 

“What do you think you're doing?” Steve laughed airily. 

“Want you to feel good too.” 

“We’ll get there,” Eddie said this time. 

You didn't look back at him, just laid with drool-covered lips against the flustered skin of Steve's chest. 

“You ready for my cock now pretty girl?” Eddie asked. 

You nodded, spreading your thighs wider in invitation. The air was cooling the wetness between your legs.

“That's it, baby.” He rubbed your ass, striking it again just as he'd done earlier. But as he did you felt the head of his cock against your hole.

The stretch made your eyes roll back. 

You thought in a moment of everything that had led up to this and none of it could prepare you for how utterly satisfied you felt as he speared you down on him, giving no time to adjust.

You squeaked out garbled sounds. 

He was thick, fully sheathed in your heat. He was just long enough that you ached with how deep he was but not long enough to smash your cervix.

“That's it. Take my cock like that, whore.” Eddie gritted. His hips stutter, pulling out just slightly to nudge in deeper.

“You’re sucking me in, honey. Tell me how it feels?”

You screamed as he began to thrust, not knowing how you were to describe the feeling of being drained of any cognitive thought.

“Fuck! So good, sir! Need you so bad! You’re so fucking deep in me…” You trailed off the end and fell into gasps as he began to thrust harder. He nailed your g-spot a few times but it felt heavenly even with him brushing against it.

You never understand people who screamed and cried during sex but with the amount of tension and your already nonexistent filter, no thanks to the weed, you sounded whoreish even to yourself.

You suddenly understood why Steve went so soft as you rode him roughly, battering him with praises and a twist of degrading spews.

“Fuck, fuck, fuck!” You chanted, the binds were now something of a punishment. You wanted to reach back and hold Eddie's hips. 

To grip his hair and hear him right in your ear as you brought him to the edge.

But he slipped out without warning.

“I think it’s time we give Steve some huh?” Eddie stated, your wet lashes fluttering. 

You heard fumbling above you but everything was blurry and you were gasping for air. 

Before you could let your breaths even out and utterly melt into Steve's comfort, you were being tugged back. This time slower, with a gentle hand on your tummy to ease you. 

You fought against already weakened thighs so as to not fall on Steve's exposed cock.

You spared a glance at where precum had bubbled out enough to leave a cloudy mess on the hairy stomach.

“You can touch,” Eddie said. It wasn’t towards you obviously, and you opened heavy lids to see Steve, now freed from his cuffs. 

His wrists were red from where he tugged. 

He sat up quickly much to your enjoyment. You settled on his thick thighs, the craving urge to grind your sopping mess against him grew tenfold as the muscles tensed. 

You watched with a dazed feeling as Steve and Eddie met in a kiss over your shoulder. 

“You did so well. Now it’s time for you to feel good alright?” Eddie said softly, his thumb soothing Steve's raw skin.

They shared a final fleeting kiss before Steve's attention was on you.

You lurched forward in a surge of desperation. You planted directly into the skin of his neck, the musky smell of his sweat making you swoon.

His arms wrapped around you as he held you tenderly. There was a shift, you could all feel it.

Eddies once striking hands, leaving burning slaps were tracing your skin like fine china. Steve's familiarity was soothing. 

You felt sedated, like a patient given gas at the dentist, all loopy and pliant. 

“You’re gonna suck Steve off while I fuck you okay?” Eddie spoke softly. 

“Do you want to stay tied up, or can you be good without them and keep your hands to yourself?”

You tugged on the binds, just to feel the dig of the rope.

“Wanna stay tied up.” You muttered, your voice thick.

“Okay, honey.” Eddie laughed. “We’ve created a rope bunny, Steve. Hungry to be tied up and fucked like a toy.”

The heat was back with that. Eddie applying pressure to ur hips in a way to tell you to lift up. Assisting you heavily with how gooey your muscles felt.

Eddie pulled your underwear off, leaving your sopping cunt clenching against the cold air. 

Your cunt was already red, swollen from Eddie pounding into you. Your clit felt almost painful to rub and your arms shuddered under your weight. 

You eyed Steve as he settled on shaky legs in front of you. You waited patiently for permission but there was saliva pooling in your mouth as you stared down the leaking tip of his cock standing at attention in front of you.

“You can touch,” Eddie said softly, motioning to Steve's cock. If you weren't desperate to feel it drag against your tongue you would have snapped back about how ‘touching it’ wasn't an option when he had you basically hogtied.

You however only lurched forward letting your spit-soaked lips catch on his tip. You let the bubbling pearls of his precum coat your lips before glancing up, letting him watch you lick it off your lips before delving to take his sensitive tip back in.

You licked roughly at the spot lying on the underside of his cock, reveling in the way he shuddered. He throbbed in your mouth and a satisfied smile crept on your lips.

After a few moments of swirling your tongue around the tip, you relaxed your jaw and sunk down. The heavyweight pushing its way towards your throat was deeply satisfying. Your eyes fluttered as you relaxed and let yourself fall down enough that the curls of his pubic hair brushed against your nose.

He was panting and pawing at your hair. You could feel his hips fighting to thrust into where your throat clamped around him.

You stayed there for a moment to tease, but it was cut short at the feeling of a hand brushing against your windpipe. 

“I can feel your cock.” Eddie said to Steve making the both of you crumple a little inwards. Your body felt weak and begging for release. Eddie moved, quick and with purpose. You heard a small gasp before the tell-tale signs of kissing. Your mind was too fuzzy and your eyes too blurry, so you could only imagine the hot side of the two men's mouths. 

You could feel your cunt drooling, the wetness of your thighs an indicator of how badly you wanted him back in you.

You whined around Steve's cock again, making the man's thighs tremble. 

You pulled away to breathe, swirling lazily around his head again as you gasps, spitting the precum that was building in your mouth. Steve moaned as you made a mess of his cock, a hand ran softly along your face and brushed sticky hair behind your ear.

You were so mind-boggled and caught up in the trimmers of Steve's hips that when you felt the brush of Eddie's cock against the opening of your cunt, you gasped.

You moaned briefly, relishing in the slick head and rubbing your sensitive clit. Eddie however, gripped your head, shoving your gaping mouth back down onto Steve.

You gagged for a moment as he held you down, slipping his cock past your puffy folds again as your eyes swelled with tears.

Steve's gentle fingers swiped away a tear. It was dizzying. His soft touch in contrast with the demanding grip of Eddies whose hands were bruising your hips.

You were definitely going to stare at his marks in the mirror later and fight the urge to touch yourself.

You wished you could bottle up the feeling of him roughly slamming into you to keep for later. 

You wanted it to always be this good. Him purposely missing your sweet spot in favor of enjoying the bulge that showed in your stomach. The taste of Steve heavy on your tongue.

“That’s it” Eddie moaned out as he slowed his thrusts, adjusting his angle to barely scrape your spot. Fireworks exploded in the small of your back. You felt it in your fingertips.

“You feel so good” Came the ruined voice of Steve. You smiled in satisfaction, your tired muscles fighting to keep bobbing along to his shallow thrusts. 

The hand Eddie was using to hold you off the bed by your ties suddenly let go. Steve's cock slipped out of your mouth as you fell face-first into the bedsheets. You could faintly smell Eddie on them, turning you on further as he seemed to wrap around you. The new angle made it feel like he was in your guts.

“Fuck, sir!” You screamed as he slammed himself into you a few times. It was a welcomed assault on your cunt that made you all but lose control of your body.

You were deviously close to your peak. There was cum in your mouth and covering your thighs. You only prayed for Eddie's cock leaking his pleasure into you.

“Breed me!” You whined out. A hand slapped your ass firmly. 

There were no rings this time. No cool stinging left over, just the heat on your reddening skin.

It came from Steve, you soon realized only when Eddie spoke.

“Good job, baby! Doing all the work for me huh? Don't even have to punish my toy, got a whole ‘nother to do it for me.” 

Steve let out a breathy laugh and you wanted to choke him out and edge him and make him beg for your mercy again. 

All of your cockiness flew out when Eddie's cock slid out though. You began to let out wails of desperation against his bed. 

“Shhh, be a patient slut.” Eddie soothed pressing a kiss to the nape of your neck. He caressed the sweat-slicked skin of your body before he slowly moved you.

You were so discombobulated it took you a minute to realize he had laid you on your back.

You gazed up at him the best you could. Your eyelashes were wet and heavy with tears.

You arched against him as he leaned down pressing a gentle sweet kiss to your cheek. The shine of your tears were pretty against his swollen mouth.

He settled down again, sitting up on his haunches. You eyed him, taking in the smooth chest, how his skin was shiny with sweat.

You didn't have much time to wallow in the intimacy before a hand was against your chin. 

You strained as you tilted your head back, staring blissfully up at Steve's sugary sweet smile.

You gasped, Steve's fingers still in a firm grip making it harder to drop your jaw as Eddie slid back into your heat.

Steve's fingers softly brushed your mouth, a rough contrast from the deep, harsh thrusts Eddie was delivering. 

You clenched your thighs around Eddie's waist, whining under Steve's touch. He was still hard and dripping, cheeks still flushed red with arousal.

You gathered as much of yourself as possible, tilting back to let your mouth make contact with his balls. He hissed above you, hand moving to find its perch in your hair as drool seeped out the corners of your mouth and rolled down your cheeks.

You hummed around him as Eddie thrusts sped up, nailing your throbbing spot once more. This time his thumb came to rub at your clit. It was overwhelming, nearing too much, your orgasm speeding towards you. 

“E-Eddie, I think she's close.” You heard Steve stutter out. 

You made a show of sucking harder at the soft skin of his nuts before pulling off fully and sticking out your wet tongue in invitation. 

Steve looked at Eddie for permission, it was wholly adorable how easily he fell into place. Asking Eddie for permission like it was common sense. 

“You can use her mouth baby, you deserved it,” Eddie said, his voice was still that deep rumble as before, but now he was panting, almost straining towards to end. You clenched around him just to tease, relishing in the moan he let out.

“Doing do good, princess.” Eddie praised, fingernails lightly scratching against where you squirmed on his cock.

“Make my boy cum and you can let go, my love.” He tacked on. You clenched around him again, this time not of your own volition. It was the sugary sweet indication of what his words would mean after they all came.

Steve looked down at you with his swollen mouth, his red face, and his hair that curled at the ends from his sweat, and you couldn’t think of anywhere else you wanted to be as he slipped his cock in. 

He was quick to ease into the wet heat. You were familiar with him fucking your mouth this way after all. He loved seeing your tits, loved watching himself bulge out of your throat from where you could barely contain him.

It wasn't long until you were sucking in desperate gasps of air, that he throbbed a few times. 

Eddie had been slowly fucking you through Steve's rough gluttony, you teetered just on the edge of your own release. It was almost jealousy-inducing when Eddie gave Steve permission to cum. 

You envied how he shook, how his cock slipped from your lips and shot thick hot ropes of his release against your chest. Your sensitive nipples perking up at the splatter that covered them.

“Good boy, so fucking good, Steve,” Eddie said through gritted teeth as he thrust into you quicker again.

With a raw throat, you all but screamed with desperation. 

“Oh! Please! Please! Please, fuck!” You begged, your eyes fell shut with exhaustion, your body was sizzling with adrenaline.

“Aw, come on now. Make me cum before you start crying like a cum hungry bitch.” Eddie said snidely. You cried out as he pounded in, his thrusts sloppy as he neared his release.

“I-inside!” You cried as his groans tightened, his hands tensed and gripped at the fat of your hips as you did all you could to fight back your orgasm.

“I'm so close, baby, just a bit longer.” He huffed and you couldn't help the scream that bubbled in your throat.

“Breed me! Want you to come in me, Eddie!” You pleaded with him, turning to the best of your ability to look over your shoulder at him. 

What you saw made the knot in your stomach boil over. Eddies eyes fluttered at your words, his jaw fell open. His lips cherry, neck slightly spattered with marks. There was sweat that dripped down his chest, rolling alongside red scratches.

You felt his cock throb and your insides were coated with his release. It was hot, heavy, and pushed deep as he pushed as hard as he could against you. 

You whined loudly, gasping at the way his cock still throbbed even as he stopped shooting ropes into your womb.

“Fuck! Shit, baby!” He cursed over and over, his muscles tensing and then releasing as he melted behind you.

You squirmed around his overstimulated dick, begging still for your own release.

Eddie pressed a kiss to your chest before you felt him begin to rub along your arms.

Your shoulders were screaming in soreness that you chose to ignore in favor of Eddie blowing your back out.

You were arched up as he shifted, fingers working diligently to untie you blindly, his glassy eyes watching with softness as tears still trickled from your eyes.

When your arms were finally free and you sunk back into the bed, trembling as his cock shifted in your pleading cunt.

With a pent-up desperation, you clung to his sweaty hair as his fingers came down, rubbing fast circles on your clit.

Your slickness and the skills of his fingers made you tremble. The way you shook was demonic, you twisted your hands as tight as you could as his fingers worked you to your peak.

It was like a crack in a dam. It came flooding out in body rocking waves. You felt like it would never end.

You could barely hear Eddie talking you through it. 

“Thaaats it,” He cooed. “Good fucking girl.”

You felt sobs breakthrough you as you began to delve into overstimulation.

“E-Eddie.” You weakly breathed. His hand left your pussy, your eyes cracked open to see his hand. Drenched.

You felt a wave of embarrassment as you came down.

“Never made a girl squirt before,” Eddie said, in all but awe as he stared at your juices rolling down his arm.

You leaned up on trembling arms, glancing between his hands at his smiling face.

“Good god you could kill a man.” Eddie chuckled. He pressed a kiss to your forehead, a sweet show of affection. It was a smacking, dramatic kiss, one so very Eddie.

 It was hard to believe what he called you minutes ago, that he was still cracking wise with your cum dripping down his arm.

“Fuck, that was good.” You breathed, flopping back beside where Steve was now bobbing in and out of consciousness. His eyes tired. You felt exhaustion take over, the room smelled of sex, weed, and Eddie's cologne.

“I’ll be back,” Eddie reassured as he left quickly. You rolled with screaming fatigue to look at Steve.

His eyes were closed but he sighed.

“You know. I never thought sex was going to be better than with you.” You spoke.

A smile creaked onto Steve's face.

“Me neither. I think you've ruined me for anyone else.” Steve slurred out.

You laughed, you always laughed at his jokes.

“Good. You’re mine.” You said. Not possessively. He wasn’t yours, and you knew that. But he was always going to be the person to you.

The one where nothing really mattered except them. Where every thought somehow developed into images of them. 

You had sunk your teeth in him as a wee high schooler and never let go. 

Eddie came back, a t-shirt pulled on and a pair of pajama pants hung low on his hips.

He wiped you slowly. Pressing kisses as he did. You both giggled and laughed as he muttered stupid comments to you.

“Nice!“ He would quietly exclaim as he noticed particularly dark bruises. 

“Looks like I tried to kill ya!” He said as he applied ointment to the stinging rope burn that wrapped in stripes on your arms.

You relished in how good it felt to be treated with such delicate kindness after sex. You wanted it to always be like this. The degrading roughness as he took what he pleased, only to be coddled and soothed after. 

Your mind flicks to other things you wanted to do with Eddie. Letting him show you everything you were curious about. 

He kissed you softly, tasting like minty mouthwash and beer now. 

You fell asleep with that taste on your lips as he cleaned up Steve beside you.

The bed dipped and his arm was around you. And that was the last thing you felt before succumbing to exhaustion.

[lilbrattyratty]

A Guide to Lewis Hamilton and Peter Bonnington

Recently I have been convincing people to become obsessed with whatever Lewis and Bono have so instead of repeating myself unnecessarily I have decided to make this handy dandy Bible guide to their journey together!

1. The Basics

Lewis and Bono have the longest running engineer and driver pairing in the history of the sport.

————————————

Sir Lewis Hamilton: if you don’t know who he is then I’m slightly surprised you are here but I am not here to judge. Sir Lewis Hamilton is a British F1 driver who has won 7 world championship titles with the Mercedes team! He’s a legend in the sport. He made his debut with McLaren in 2007 and has been with Mercedes since 2013.

Peter “Bono” Bonnington: Bono is senior race engineer for Mercedes. He has been race engineer since 2011 where he worked with other 7 time world champion Michael Schumacher. After Schumacher left Bono was paired with Lewis and they have been together ever since! He has been widely regarded as the most successful and most well known race engineer.

Note: for some reason there was a misconception going around that Bono was 10 years older than he really was. Let’s put this to rest: his birthday is 12 February 1975. Source

It’s Hammertime: maybe one of the most famous Lewis radio messages. Bono explains that during the years where radio messages were more strict they needed a code word to let Lewis know it was time to really go all out. So they suggested “put the hammer down” before it became “it’s hammertime”. Source (timestamp 18:17)

Austrian GP 2014: the very first Hammertime. Link

2. The Partnership

Out on track the race engineer is the critical link from the team in the garage to the driver. They must analyze all the data and determine what the driver needs to know without overwhelming them.

————————————

Platonic or romantic or brotherly no matter how you may view their relationship it has been stated many times by both of them that their relationship takes a lot of trust and open communication. They share a deep bond and connection that they feel is integral to their success.

In this interview you will find Lewis speaking about the depth of their trust and love for each other. Link

“It’s like a marriage, I guess.”

“There’s love, and real friendship, and loyalty.”

This interview is where Lewis speaks about the support that they show for each other. How he feels that they are always there for each other to bring out the best. Link

“I don’t know if I can do this for you…”

This interview where Lewis again talks about how much he loves Bono and how important their bond is to him. Link

“I think he is also one of the few people who can handle me on good and bad days.”

In this Instagram post you can read that Lewis is always thankful for Bono and recognizes that his success is thanks for many people but Bono in particular… Link

“Forever grateful for my guy Bono, blessed to have him by my side.”

Now Bono may be more media shy but he does have this interview where he talks about working with Lewis. Link

“He’s the rockstar and I’m the one in charge.”

Occasionally Bono will not be working with Lewis and you can see how awkward it is sometimes when you aren’t used to the replacement. Link

“That was a lot of information, I don’t understand what you just said.”

A moment when you can hear Lewis trying to calm Bono rather than the other way around. Link

The Egg: Bono brought an egg to the 2021 Brazil and Jeddah GP because Lewis loves the movie ‘Cool Runnings’ and it really inspired him when he was younger. In the movie they kiss their lucky egg. Source

Podiums: Bono has been on the podium a few times with Lewis and each one is super fun and special! A full list can be found here!

3. The Fandom

“I love Bono and I wouldn’t want to work with anyone else. Don’t write that I love him because I haven’t told him.” -Lewis Hamilton

————————————

Below I have compiled fic recs as well as just shippy moments from the two of them.

Notable Moments:

British GP 2014: Lewis wins his home GP and Bono tells him to “lap it up, boy”. Link

Austin GP 2015: who can forget the iconic hug? (pictured above) The way Bono leaps into his arms and he bounced him up and down… simply iconic. Video link of the hug

US GP 2018: Lewis tells Bono he’s not gonna go steady. Link

Russian GP 2019: Bono tries to hide behind the crowd but Lewis won’t let him. Link

ALSO at that same GP! They stared at each other from the podium in beautiful iconic cinematography… link

Abu Dhabi GP 2019: Lewis (and others) dump champagne on Bono’s head and make him very very wet… link

Lewis Hamilton and Valentino Rossi: Where Rossi asks Lewis if “this is your guy?” And Lewis replied “yeah.” Link (timestamp 2:39)

Mexico GP 2019: Lewis dedicated his win to Bono. Link

Notable Blogs:

@storm3326: creates wonderful Bono and Lewis fanart

@queerbenched: makes beautiful Bono and Lewis edits

@still-we-rise @teamroscoes @princemick @l8tof1 @husbono @flatspot: All post a lot of good Bono and Lewis content. I scrolled through a lot of their blogs a lot while making this post.

There are of course plenty of other wonderful blogs out there and I appreciate every single one of them.

Fic Recs:

This thing called us by Dutchiedragon Rated: Gen.

Summary: Brazil 2021 brought so many emotions, it left the Mercedes team completely burnt out. Lewis ends up alone in his hotelroom with a thousand thoughts running through his head, so he seeks out the one person who might bring him peace.

Or: Lewis needs help taking out his braids. Bono is there.

So long, longing by ohfrecklefreckle Rated: Mature.

Summary: Engineering is a dirty job but someone's got to do it. What happens when you're almost telepathic but still can't say what you need to?

The contours of things by The_Orange_one Rated: Mature.

Summary: Lewis belongs to so many people, but Bono mostly just belongs to Lewis.

Love in the major key by ambiguouspace Rated: Teen.

Summary: Bono, in particular, looks surprisingly alert tonight.

In fact, James notices, as his brain clicks out of analysis mode and into observation, he’s positively glowing. His eyes are bright, face a little flushed like he’s been working out. James looks down, catalogues the rest of his appearance. Bono’s t-shirt hangs slightly loose on him, nothing like the cut he normally favours, and the print on the front is unusual, an oversized image of something James can’t quite see but looks oddly familiar and—ah.

Lewis and Bono and the unsubtle art of workplace flirtation.

Lost in My Own Incidents by glasscushion Rated: Explicit.

Summary: “What do you need, Lewis? This bit I can do.”

“This,” he says, his eyes still closed. “Can we just stay like this?”

Lewis lifts one side of the blanket for Bono to take and he grabs a handful, laying it over his own lap, the wool heated from where it’s been resting against Lewis’ skin. The urge to reach out beneath, to soothe, to touch, is almost suffocating.

“Not a problem mate. No problem at all.”

Author’s Note: This is not a complete list and may be updated as they continue to be insane about each other!

[leoramage]

mastermind

⊹ masterlist ⊹ taglist ⊹

⊹⊱ trigger warning - [n/a]

⊹⊱ theme - [university au]

⊹⊱ pairings - [mick schumacher x student!y/n]

⊹⊱ keywords - [mind games and hints. "this is the first time i've felt the need to confess."]

The sun was setting over the sprawling campus of Gran Vincere Academy, casting a golden hue over the campus where dreams of speed and adrenaline took root. Every corner of the school echoed with the roar of powerful engines and the scent of high-octane fuel, but there was more to life than just racing. The academy is a hot pot of talent — a place where exceptional students from various fields came together.

"Miss L/N, are you okay? Class is dismissed." Professor Vowles soft snapped at you, finding yourself daydreaming about the upcoming weekend. The usual group of friends had exciting plans, but this time, it felt different. The classroom was already empty and it was just you and the Professor Vowles who likes to stay behind the classroom even though the lecture is over.

Thinking about your friend group... At first, it was just you and Daniel. Ricciardo is a sunshine over-the-top guy whom you were able to be friends with as you are both sat together in biology class. He hardly shuts up and mutters jokes under his breath or blurts them out loud amid lectures of Professor Abiteboul but regardless, he is always a guy who is down for anything and is known by everyone alongside Lando who is in photojournalism.

Lando has a Spanish friend named Carlos who is a varsity athlete for golfing. Then this Carlos has a Monegasque friend named Charles; who is pursuing a music degree - allegedly a serial monogamist and a heartthrob - targeting friends of his exes to be his next girl. Charles is often confused as a French and is mistakenly friends with the French duo.

Pierre is a varsity player for soccer; who dates high school girls despite him being in his senior year in college. While Esteban is enrolled in aerospace engineering and hangs out with the nepotism babies of the university: Mick and Lance.

Lance Stroll, the young billionaire boy plays for the varsity hockey team. Got into the dean multiple times for instigating fights at the back of the university parking lot.

Mick Schumacher, the charismatic and daring racing prodigy of Michael Schumacher, was part of the friend group, life had a funny way of intertwining paths. He is pursuing medicine to be a pediatrician or veterinarian... You were not sure, everyone just found him attractive nonetheless and he is one of your close friends alongside Daniel.

"Hey, Y/N!" Speaking of Mick, he greeted you with a warm smile. His blue eyes sparkled under the rays of the sun, a hint of his usual playful demeanor. Then there was a lady standing beside him who eyeballed on you before rolling her eyes. You found it odd, was he waiting for you despite being accompanied?

"Hey, Mick," You replied, adjusting the strap of your backpack after walking out of the classroom of Professor Vowles. "Ready for another semester of classes?"

Mick chuckled. "Always! But you know, Y/N, I've got a new strategy this year." He leaned in closer, his voice hushed as if he were sharing a secret and seemed to have forgotten that he was with this girl whom you do not recognize, "I've got a plan."

You couldn't help but laugh at his mischievousness. "Mick, I hope this plan of yours will not involve Lance and Esteban being sent to the Dean's office. You're going to have to do better than that."

He only chuckled and shook his head before muttering softly which sent shivers down your spine, "No it won't. See you soon, Y/N." Just as fast as he came, he left with the lady who seemed to be following him like a lost puppy.

⊰⊹⋯⋯⋯⋯⋯⋯⋯⋯⋯⋯⋄⋯⋯⋯⋯⋯⋯⋯⋯⋯⋯⊹⊱

Weeks passed...

And Mick's plan whatever it was continued. You would walk the hallways of the campus, Mick passing by and greeting you shortly with "hi" and "hello y/n" while he is always accompanied by different girls on every occasion at every opportunity. Your conversations were kept short and awkward which made you feel pained at the fact that you and he weren't as close as it used to be.

"Have I done something wrong?" "Have I said something that offended him?" These were the thoughts that run in your head more than 300 kilometers per hour as it seems. It bothered you - yes. Because of the fact that you do not want to come across as anxious to Mick, you didn't know how to address the issue. What were you supposed to say without making everything look awkward?

As you sat with George and your friends in the school courtyard, he leaned over and whispered, "Have you noticed that Mick is always with unattractive girls whenever you see him?"

This caught your attention, snapping out of your snacks to furrow your brows in confusion at George's question. Even Carmen, George's girlfriend, looked upset at him for describing them as such. You didn't want to speak, you didn't want to sound judgemental by agreeing to the 'unattractive' part.

This gathered attention from Pierre who is closely listening in before butting in the conversation like the typical French tea spiller he is. "You want to know why?" He asks as you nod before the French smirks and turns to George to continue what is boiling under the surface. What was Mick doing all these past few weeks?

"Mick has a crush on you all this time and he's doing this to make you feel jealous - to elicit reaction out of you. He was getting frustrated because you didn't seem bothered at all with his shenanigans with these ladies." The British chuckled as you stared at him with wide eyes and slightly agape lips. Mick was what???

Pierre laughed at your reaction and spoke, "Why do you seem surprised, Y/N?"

Why were they telling this to you anyway? They were probably bluffing and it must be some sort of prank. Lewis only gave you a soft but genuine smile, at some point, it gave you a little sense of security that George and Pierre weren't playing around. So you decided to say something, "Why are you telling me this?" Uncertainty rung in your words still quite doubtful that they were not beating around the bush.

By the devil's name, the blonde German (and a blonde girl) walked towards the table with a smile on his lips and greeted everyone before sitting down, "Hello guys! Hey Y/N." Mick was at his usual antics, leaning in close to the girl, whispering something that made her blush before walking away.

"Y/n, can we talk?"

Those three words made your ear rung and deafen for a second. Finally, the moment of truth arrived as George, Pierre and the rest of the friend group shared looks as some were chuckling softly. So everyone knew while you don't. Did you miss out on a hangout night? Absolutely not.

Daniel looked concerned from the other side of the table as Mick stared at you hoping you'd accept his offer... And you did. With every step you take walking away from that table, your heart beats louder almost as if you could hear it with your ears as Mick leads you into a quiet place on the campus - the school pond & fountain where architecture students hang out. You were happy it wasn't in the parking lot knowing Lance's antics and his battleground was that place.

"Y/N, you're impossible," Mick sighs, leaning against the balustrade.

You raised an eyebrow, confusion etched in your features. "And why's that?"

He was scratching the back of his head, gaze on the ground - embarrassment glimmering in his eyes despite it cast down. "I have to tell you something, Y/N... I was hinting at this girl these past few months. She just doesn't seem to get it that I like her."

"Mick, if you're interested in someone, why not just be direct?" You leaned in, voice sincere. You were confused about how this conversation was going but a slight sting of jealousy sets into your heart. At the same time, you were upset that he was dragging you into this type of conversation and never really explained why he was hanging out less with you which left you dumbfounded for the past weeks.

He smiles sheepishly and all his attention now set into you. His blue eyes were staring at yours, touching every crevice of your own soul. His eyes were telling you something that words couldn't comprehend. "Fear of rejection, I guess. And she's… you're not like anyone else. You're not like everyone else."

"All these months that have passed."

"I planned everything to be close to you and to make you jealous... But it didn't work out." He chuckled awkwardly and lightly bit his lip.

"This is the first time I've felt the need to confess."

"I like you, Y/n."

At that moment, the unspoken truth hung between you both, now as clear as day. Your paths might have been unconventional, but they had led you to something genuine.

Author's Note: This is impulsive writing and this story had been crafted out of my dream. It's an odd dream but hey, I thought about for a moment to share this with you. And no, I wouldn't take requests to write. I do not wish to make a promise and disappoint you all for being slack in writing. I'm not quite sure how this turned out but I hope you guys liked it. 𔘓ฅ[⁠ᓀ⁠˵⁠▾⁠˵⁠ᓂ⁠]𔘓ฅ

Disclaimer: This is a work of fiction created by the user in response to a creative writing prompt. Any resemblance to actual events, persons, or entities, whether living or deceased, is purely coincidental. The characters, events, and dialogue portrayed in this fanfiction are products of the user's imagination and are not meant to infringe upon any copyrights or trademarks associated with the Formula One sport or any real-life individuals. This fanfiction is solely intended for entertainment purposes, and the author acknowledges that the depicted scenarios are not endorsed, authorized, or supported by any official Formula One entities or the individuals mentioned.

[juergenklopp]

PETER ‘BONO’ BONNINGTON, senior race engineer to Lewis Hamilton, during the red flag period at the 2022 British Grand Prix (July 3, 2022)

– for @neonastronaut | @ultrasofts | @fullwets

[wonderfulwonderrful]

Grand Prix Elite Academy (1/10) +18 | professor!Toto x reader fem!futuredriver, sewiss, carlos x reader

Summary: Your life turns 360 degrees after receiving your acceptance letter for the Grand Prix Elite Academy, the most exclusive and prestigious Formula One college designed to shape the future drivers of the motorsport world. You will try to navigate your new life among the Monaco elites, survive the campus dynamics and rivalries between the university faculties, and try to win this year's cup to beat an undefeated Mercedes while trying to befriend your eclectic driver classmates, join the wild Red Bull parties, have a couple of make-outs under the racing circuit benches, lose your v-card and get over that stupid crush you have on professor Toto. Will you make it alive to graduation? Drive to Greatness! Genre: Romance, smut, and comedy. Author's note: This is a Formula One college AU fanfiction set in an elite academy in Monaco, where the F1 Teams are Faculties, their Team Principals are professors, the FIA is the college board, and all the grid drivers are your classmates. You are accepted under a scholarship program that supports young, talented girls, having lots to catch on to after years of putting your racing dreams on hold and becoming the new girl in class, which is always challenging, especially when all of you share one campus. Masterlist: all chapters here

Chapter 1: Hi, Society

"Everyone who lives in Monaco is filthy rich."

Well, that's a half-lie that people say; the working class also lives there, and the families and people who work for the rich are on the outskirts of town near the border with France. 

Yours is one of those: a middle-class family of three (you, dad, and your dog). So, a chunk of your day goes to commuting downtown to attend school and help with the auto parts shop, your family-run business.

You had the misfortune (now you call it that!) to be raised by a hardcore motorsports madman in what you consider one of the most F1 households of all time in the most F1 city in the world. 

That madman is your dad, a middle-aged man who is apparently good-looking (judging by the attention he gets from female customers; okay, he is in shape; you get that part) but has remained single for the longest time.

He is a hard-working mechanic who invested all his inheritance in opening an automobile repair shop and a twin business, an auto parts and components store located on the same street, which seems logical. 

You are one of those households that loves everything related to cars and motorsports, a trait you inherited in your cells from birth.

Yes, yes, you are a "daddy's girl." It's embarrassing, but he's your hero.

Thanks to him, you were that "weird" little girl at elementary school who could name all the parts of a car's engine and their exact functions. You could explain the mechanics and physics behind a motor by high school, and you were able to repair and customize cars and motorbikes by your senior years. 

-

Daydreaming was a fundamental part of your childhood and still is, but nowadays, the therapist calls it MaDD or trauma coping. 

Back in the day, you loved sneaking into the driver's seat of any of the expensive sports cars the clients took to the workshop for repair. You imagined it morphing into a racing car as you drove it to high speeds on a race track. 

Of course, you always ended up winning the Grand Prix! And that fantasy lasted until either one of the mechanics or your dad got you out of the unit.

-

By the time you turned eight, your family made an effort to take you karting. It's expensive, way more complex than you expected, and heavy on the body!

You always ended up exhausted after practice or racing, but you didn't care because you were killing the game, impressing people along the way, and winning piles of trophies!

After several years of success, you got sponsored and made it to Formula Renault, where winning was also a regular thing.

Then, you continued to Formula 4, where you started to succeed, too. By that point, you were utterly emotionally invested in your racing career, working hard to make your dream come true and make your parents proud.

But that sad September, your mom got sick. 

-

After her passing, nothing was quite the same, and your racing dreams got buried along with her, leaving you and your dad an emotional and financial wreck and with a lot of debt in the bank due to her treatments.

-

"Time heals everything," 

That's another half-lie people tell. 

You never get over a loss of that kind, but you learn to live your life the best way possible and find joy after it.

-

So, as you go through your teen years, you feel your life is starting over as if someone else lived your past.

You choose to help more with the family business after noticing your father is tired and stressed every day and wanting to be there for him.

You take full responsibility for running the auto parts and components store. After school, you go there every day, and that's where you practically live. 

The shop is in an old part of town. It used to be a cheap neighborhood, but not today. It's still not the most luxurious town area, but the location is excellent nowadays. 

As the business grew, the shop underwent several remodels, more like improvements made by your uncle Marco (your late mom's brother) and your godfather, who works in construction.

The store is bright, clean, and organized. It has tall white walls with blue accents (the ones you helped paint), neat grey polished concrete floors where you can almost watch your reflection, and pendant lights in the ceiling over the aisles full of product racks. Several pennants and large posters give the place character. 

Most of the time, you are behind the large counter with the cashier and computer by the entrance, where you run the stock, attend customer payments, do your homework, and watch Netflix (on slow days).

Next to you is always your dog, with his bed and bowl, and behind you is an entire wall of shelves with premium products.

The store's most recent and exciting acquisition is a new set of automatic slide doors and a large welcoming rug with the business logo. 

God! How boring is your life?!

Still, you are grateful for those; on busy days, you want to tear your ears off at the nonstop sound of the bell atop the door.

The store is at the corner of the street, and the large workshop is two buildings away across the road. 

Both are different from your usual mechanic's spots; yes, there is still oil in some parts, but this is Monaco, after all! If you want to attract clients in this city, you must look nice.

Your dad lives and breathes at the workshop. 

Your household is one of those that leaves the family home very early in the morning and returns at night to sleep. 

-

As things get financially healthier again, your dad and godfather work hard to renovate the shop's attic slash old storage space into a tiny apartment for you.

It's a simple but cozy open-floor concept: a one-bedroom with a kitchenette and counter bar for two stools, a sitting area with a bulky love seat and a TV.

Your desk is next to the bay window, facing the street and sky; this is your favorite spot to study. 

A queen-size bed with a nightstand completes the space, along with the door leading to the world's tiniest bathroom. 

You love this rabbit hole so much. Your dad and godfather allowed you to choose the style of decor and furniture (you went for minimal and boho), and you love it more than your actual home (a more spacious two-and-a-half-bedroom apartment with a small balcony nearer the mountains).

-

As you grow older and reach legal age, you start doing everything at the shop by yourself, saving the money spent on extra hands. 

From cleaning to stock control, acting like a sales lady and the store influencer, posting social media content, updating the website once you convinced your dad to sell online, and taking care of your dog, now the business mascot.

People love him! He always gets pats on the head from customers, and some return just for him. He is a lazy old basset hound named "Diesel."

You must ensure that Diesel wears his bandana with the shop logo daily, as it is his official employee uniform. He is your childhood dog, and the idea of losing him makes you anxious.

-

By this point, you speak fluent "Mechanic" which should be considered an entire language thanks to growing up surrounded by them. 

Depending on the photo, you can't avoid smiling or laughing when you open up your childhood photo albums. 

There are many pictures from your birthday parties held at the workshop. In them, you appear surrounded by alpha males with tattoos, beards, and muscles as you blow the candles off a Barbie-inspired cake with the entire place decorated in glittery pink party decor. 

That's your life in a nutshell.

Nowadays, since you are a full-grown woman in their eyes, they act overprotective of you, especially when a boy your age tries to flirt with you while buying something with their parent's credit card. 

But they get it so wrong! You don't recall when or how, but you started to get attracted to men, not boys, older men. 

That middle-aged group of guys that make you beg, "Please run me over with your sports car," as you stare at them driving as they pass across the big windows facing the store's street. 

You love the roaring sound of the engine, but you love the view of a handsome man driving it even more. 

Still, it's just a fantasy; those guys are completely out of your league, and well, you don't have a social life and have never had a boyfriend.

-

In the last couple of days before graduation, many universities show up to promote their college programs at Open Day. 

You avoid the Grand Prix Elite Academy people like they have the plague, knowing that's a dream you can't afford. 

And they know it, too! 

You can tell by the look the extremely hot model-looking Student Affairs ladies give you when you succumb to the temptation to get closer to their stand.

You nervously step in front of them without saying a word and leave after they rudely and unwantedly hand you a brochure with all the information about the program, costs, and more.

They both look annoyed at their employers for making them attend a school without potential clients.

-

When you arrive at your loft, you remove your shoes and drop your bag on the floor. You muster the courage to read the brochure as you get cozy on the bulky, puffy couch.

"Grand Prix Elite Academy is the ultimate path to success in the world of motorsports.

Our program is an exclusive Formula One college degree designed for aspiring drivers who dream of pursuing a career in professional racing. 

This program offers unparalleled training and mentorship from seasoned professionals, personalized coaching from world-class racing experts, access to state-of-the-art facilities and cutting-edge simulators, and networking opportunities with industry leaders. 

This degree aims to cultivate the skills and mindsets of future champions. It's the ultimate platform for developing the aptitudes, knowledge, and connections necessary to reach the pinnacle of motorsports.

Drive to Greatness. Race with us."

After re-reading the entire brochure a hundred times and eyeing all the pictures, subjects, and prices attached, you can't help but cry out until you fall asleep.

-

After several texts to your number and no reply, your dad goes up to the loft to look for you, now a bit worried. 

The day is over, and you two should head home soon to avoid traffic. He always texts you when it's time to leave, and you rush down the street to get in the car.

As he moves closer to the sofa to wake you up, he notices the "GPEA" brochure on the floor and picks it up. He doesn't say anything about it later.

-

The summer break begins, and soon, you will become a college freshman. 

You applied for several engineering college programs that are within your budget. 

You still want to work at Formula One, and if you can't get a driver's seat, you aim for a team chair.

-

You have been nervous the entire week, knowing the acceptance letters will soon arrive. You are crossing your fingers they aren't rejection ones. 

You get accepted in two out of four!

However, when the postman shows up at the store again, you look at him perplexed as he hands you a fancy envelope. 

It's good your dad is having lunch with you at the counter at that exact moment to clarify your doubts.

—What is this?! —your voice goes all high as you walk fast and nervously to him, showing him the Grand Prix Elite Academy logo stamp on the envelope.

—Listen, don't get mad at me. Your dad puts down the fork and stops eating for a moment to face you. —Wait to get your hopes up high yet. He starts to calm you down, noticing how you are hyperventilating. —Open it first.

—WHAT?!!

—Y/N, breath, easy...

You tear the envelope with shaky hands and quickly scan the letter's content.

—AH! —a funny scream comes out of your mouth, and you look at your dad with wide eyes before pushing him into a tight hug, a bit brusquely. —I GOT IN! I GOT THIS YEAR'S SCHOLARSHIP!! —you fucking can't believe it. —BUT HOW!?!!

—I applied for you, well, I pretended to be you; I disliked being an annoying girl —he rolls his eyes at you, joking. —After that, I sent the board an email explaining our situation; now, as your father —he looks a bit embarrassed at his confession. —It's good that I documented your entire and promising racing career. I know how important this is for you. I'm sorry that we cannot afford it on our own. I know you have the talent and deserve that scholarship more than anyone! Thank God they went all charity on your ass!

You laugh, and happy tears run down your face. Your dad hasn't seen you this happy, not since mom...

—OH GOD!

—What?! —your dad's heart skips at your words.

—It says I must register ASAP for the virtual classroom since I didn't attend the in-person summer program. Jesus! I just got in, and I'm already behind! —you rush to the computer, and before logging in, you say: —Dad, I love you; you have nothing to apologize for!

-

As the countdown to the start of the academy year goes on, your nervousness levels increase. 

You get more hysterical each day, and your dad already regrets his actions.

Billions of thoughts cross your mind daily: What if they don't like me? What if I end up failing? Am I good enough? What I'm going to wear? This attire list is so pretentious. What's a smart-casual look? I don't own any black tie gowns! 

OH GOD!

-

A heavy box arrives at the shop by mail. 

It's your welcome package to the academy. Inside, you find a gorgeous and expensive-looking varsity jacket, the college's cashmere sweater, and many more branded items. 

It also contains an extensive list of things you need to start the year, instructions for your first day, and a textbook of rules. 

Your scholarship sponsor is WomanOne, which supports girls around the globe in completing their college degrees. 

You feel so empowered that you swear to do your best and conquer the game! 

Your grades and performance are crucial for them, so you must win the most Elite Academy Cup races you can.

-

Two days later, another envelope arrives; this time is an invitation for the Homecoming Gala; the paper feels fancy as fuck! 

The event is scheduled two nights before the start of the course, and it's mandatory, which you find hilarious. 

You have never been obliged to attend a fancy party before.

-

A few days later, a push notification informs you you have two new DMs on the GPEA app (the official college app they requested you to download). 

After completing your profile for the driver market, the Ferrari and Aston Martin principals want to interview you on the virtual platform.

Shit is getting real!

-

—She looks too sweet for this brutal land; I hope she survives here, Lewis says as he leans closer to peek at Sebastian's iMac screen. 

This year, they volunteered at the Student Affairs Department to obtain the mandatory extra credits. 

Well, Sebastian applied for the job and dragged Lewis along, as usual. 

They both look at the student picture you upload on the platform; then, Seb starts to copy out your data to print your access badge.

—Is she on the market yet? 

—Yes. All the faculty principals have reviewed her profile, but only Ferrari and Aston will interview her. She applied to join the McLaren faculty, though.

—Interesting. So, no words from Zack?

—Not yet. You know how it is, my dear scholarship king. Y/N looks really promising. Are you feeling nervous about it? Now someone wants to take the full scholarship prodigy title away from you —Seb teases.

—By this rookie, you wish! —Lewis tenderly slaps Sebastian's face. —Everyone is after my titles anyway, as well as my sexy good looks. Are you feeling nervous about it?

—You wish! She doesn't have what I give you —it's Seb turn to state.

—Oh, please, could you remind me what you give me? —Lewis teases, a bit aroused.

—Oh, I can show you —Seb gets dangerously close to him, slowly pushing him against the office desk.

-

You are so grateful the full scholarship includes the on-campus living fee and secures you a dorm room. 

The GPEA is so far from your house that commuting there would be a nightmare. Thanks, Google Maps, for the info! Now you know you have to leave tomorrow with enough time to be on time for the Homecoming Gala. 

You struggle to fall asleep. It's the anxiety for tomorrow's party. You pray to God somehow you fit in.

-

As the moonlight dances upon the glistening waters of Monaco's coastline, the college's luxury campus emerges with opulence. 

Tonight, the GPEA is hosting the most glamorous Gala to mark the commencement of a new school year; to your eyes, it's a scene of total excess and splendor. 

Nothing as you have seen before!

Party lights dance and illuminate the facades of the campus buildings, casting vibrant and cool designs on the walls.

The garden's magnificent palm trees sway gently under the warm Mediterranean breeze, their leaves aglow with the enchanting hues of the illuminations. 

The campus's modern architecture, a seamless blend of money and elegance, looks like an oasis adorned with meticulously manicured gardens, flowers, and fountains, where the soft sound of water cascading brings a sense of tranquility amidst the muffled DJ music coming out of the celebration. 

As you are about to reach the building entrance, you notice the long parade of the most luxurious cars, gracefully chauffeuring guests who descend with elegance, sporting breathtaking gowns from renowned designers and dapper men wearing impeccably tailored tuxedo suits. 

-

This homecoming Gala looks straight out of Gossip Girl. 

As you step onto the red carpet, you can feel the electric buzz, radiating a contagious energy that sets the exhilarating tone for the party. 

It looks like it is going to be a wild night.

And you are correct. The clinking glasses of champagne get louder as the evening progresses, and the party ensues.

The crowd consists of beautiful, fit, and effortlessly stylish students exuding an air of confidence and superiority. 

Despite your striking look in a fancy dress, you can't shake the feeling of being an outsider among the elite.

-

As you move around in the ballroom with a glass in hand, you notice a figure that stands out: Toto Wolff, wearing an impeccably tailored suit and exuding charm and charisma. 

His striking features, towering height, and muscular body immediately command your attention. Your gaze draws towards him, entirely captivated by his physical attributes and confident presence among the sea of people. 

You can't help but stare at him; he is pure eye candy. 

"So, this is what genuine attraction feels like?"

You go all red when you notice a stunning set of clear eyes watching you, lusting for Toto.

—No worries. It's the usual reaction Toto gets. We've all been there, I guess. I'm Leandra de Vries! I'm a Ferrari somophore —a stunning, lean girl with legs for days and perfect hair greets you. 

Wow, that's having a face card! Her nose is to die for, and Jesus, those eyes! She looks tan, and her skin is silky and shiny. 

"I need to moisturize!" You think.

—I'm Y/N Y/LN —you quickly add. —That's a beautiful dress, Leandra!

—It's vintage Dior; they don't make them like this anymore —she shows you her breathtaking embroidered gown, extending her long, athletic leg. —You look good, even with that thing you are wearing! No offense; you better get used to this kind of comment. Let's say this place requires thick skin; my advice: never take it personally.

—Oh, thanks, I guess?! —you both laugh.

—Is it from Zara? —Leandra comes closer to whisper to your ear, curious and disgusted at the time, but with comedic timing.

—Yes! —you say, holding a giggle.

—Oh god! Please remind me to get you in my wardrobe; I have a couple of pieces you so desperately need —she smiles at you and intertwines her right arm with yours.

—Please! —you beg and smile her back.

—Let's walk around! —she invites you.

So far, you like Leandra. Although she may look like a mean girl, she is well-intended, kind, and honest. She doesn't hold back, and that's your type of person.

-

—So that's the new "Charity Baby"? She's cute!

—Where!? —Lando pops his head behind Oscar after his comment.

—There, with Leandra —he points.

—How does that woman get even hotter each year?! Fuck, she looks so fuckable in that dress! —Lando undresses Leandra with his eyes.

—Getting an erection this early on? That's a new record for you —Max jokes, staring at him.

Leandra starts to lead you both in their direction. The group gathered around the large velvet sofa in the fancy sitting area near the bar. 

When you arrive at their side, you overhear George leading the conversation.

—She is still out of your league, mate —George mocks her. —But how did it go with Arabella?

—Oh, she was delicious; I fucked her in the gym's pool. Her ass feels terrific! —Lando lets them know the gossip.

—Arabella is the blonde with the great tits? —Max inquires.

—No, no, that's the Mercedes girl, the one I fucked in the library.

—And you also fucked the librarian.

—And the trainer's assistant.

—And the Human Resources lady.

Everyone keeps adding.

—Better be getting ready for Lando's disappointing dick game —Carlos jokes with you as soon as he notices you standing there in complete silence and addressing you for the first time.

Everyone turns their head towards you.

You go all red.

—I mean, if you want, I'm available tonight —Lando shoots his shot, shamelessly flirting with you and reaching for your hand.

—And welcome! —Sebastian jokes from a distance, comfy wrapped in Lewis's arms on the sofa.

—Lando, you fuck everything that moves —Yuki states impressed.

—It's cus' I got dick game, to Carlos' jealousy.

Out of nowhere, you notice Lance standing right to your left. —I heard you are working class and got here under a full scholarship like Lewis did. Is that true?! —Lance inquires, curious and with a sweet voice, but his wording is not the best.

—Yes, I'm from a middle-class family —you shyly reply. —We own a car repair workshop, and I work there.

Lance's face looks stunned. Sebastian notices his and your expression and doesn't waste time.

—Lance, you can't ask people that! You know some people work to live? God, you are so out of touch! Excuse him —Seb says.

—Yeah, unlike him, the people's people —Lewis mocks Seb, pointing at him and roughly combing his hair, then Lewis gives you a "These guys" face and winks at you. —They don't mean it —Lewis lets you know. —Welcome, welcome! I'm L-

—Lewis Hamilton, yes, I know, you are a legend —you look at him in awe.

He is the only one who gets it, who gets you. 

He is as rare as you. His family famously worked their butts off to get him here before he got offered a full scholarship like yours and became the scholarship program and GPEA prodigy. 

No one has won more trophies and cups in the history of the college than him.

Mercedes already hired him as their reserve driver and offered him a contractor as their future F1 talent, the most expensive arrangement ever for a rookie. They are just waiting for Michael to retire.

-

Principal Zack reaches you after chatting, dancing, joking, and getting to know everyone in that little group. —Miss, Y/LN. Can we have a word, please?

—Of course! —you interrupt your conversation with Oscar and go to him.

After walking around and casually conversing a bit, he informs you: I appreciate your request to join our faculty, but unfortunately, it's impossible for us now. We noticed your career resume has a long hiatus, which puts you behind our other candidates. However, we will closely watch your performance this year, and maybe you can ask again next year —Zack politely kills your dream to drive for them momentaneously. —You have a promising future, you are talented, and I wish you the best.

—Oh, bummer! But I understand, sir. I will do my very best!

You make it back to the group, but since they love to gossip, they all observe the scene from afar and interpret your expressions, betting their money wasn't good.

—And? —Yuki asks.

—Not McLaren.

—I'm sorry, it's their loss! —Mick soothes you. By far, he is the most kind and polite of the bunch. It must be tough to grow up under his dad's shadow; maybe that's why he is so empathic with the outcasts.

—I haven't heard from Aston or Ferarri after my interviews either —you look slightly concerned now.

—Give it a time —Seb reassures you.

—Oh god, it's too early to endure a Masi's speech. No one is drunk enough yet! —Lewis cuts the chat, looking straight at the man getting up on the fancy and tech stage, lit out under professional lightning; a massive state-of-the-art Samsung screen is behind, showcasing the academy and its sponsor's logos.

—Does anyone feel like powdering their nose in the bathroom before the speech begins? —Carlos offers.

—Count me on, babe! Do you want to join us? Being high as a kite is the best way to enjoy this party —Leandra addresses you.

—Oh! No, no, thank you —you quickly denied with your arms.

—Hey, don't go hard! I brought mushrooms for all of us later —Max adds, and they nod in sync.

Okay, this is going nothing like you expected.

-

"Good night, esteemed faculty, staff, and enthusiastic students. As the Dean, I am honored to address you at the start of this new academic year at the Grand Prix Elite Academy. We are here united by a shared passion for speed, engineering, and the excitement of Formula One racing. 

Our college stands as a unique institution dedicated to preparing the next generation of brilliant minds and innovative professionals in the motorsport industry.

This academic year holds incredible opportunities for growth, learning, and discovery, and I encourage each and every one of you to embrace the challenges, cultivate your skills, and push the boundaries of knowledge in this exhilarating field. 

Let us fuel our enthusiasm, collaborate synergistically, and pave the way to new frontiers of excellence together. I extend a warm welcome to all and look forward to an extraordinary year ahead. 

Thank you."

A lazy round of applause comes from the crowd, but minutes before, in the middle of the speech, Leandra went by your side. —Do you want to know all the tea about Toto? —noticing how your eyes wander to him once more. 

He is up on the stage with all the principals from the different faculties. It's nothing new, but you are experiencing it for the first time.

—Well —you hesitate. —Yes.

—He has remained single for a while now, more like fucking around, actually. Toto has a type: blond bombshells, the supermodel type, you know, with insane bodies. I'm friends with two of his conquests, and one told me he fucks like a bull. He likes it hard and rough, and the other let me know he has a delicious fat cock but that he hits it and quicks it; he left her waiting for more.

You blush at her words, which she instantly notices. Before continuing: —Last I witnessed with my own gorgeous eyes, Toto was hooking up with Rihanna at that fancy Ferrari's anniversary party; she was all over him; it was a great party, we all got smashed! I ended up riding Dani on the back of his car, oops. 

You hit playfully Leandra in the ribs with your elbow while looking at Riccardio dancing meters away. —Daniel is hot!

—And a moron, ah, right! Toto went through a very public divorce about a year ago; it was the talk of the town. The Wolff's splitting, OH! The elites went wild! His ex-wife is a counselor here, so you will see her around; they have a weird relationship. I think they still fuck.

Okay, this is a lot of information, but one thing is sure: you are different from his type. 

—By the way, he's a very demanding professor and one of the very best. His subjects are challenging to get accepted into, so think twice before choosing him. Many girls try to add his class to their schedules to get closer to him, but it never ends well. He is a dream crusher. Do you want me to introduce you to him? I am one of his favorite students.

—Oh, no, no —you get all nervous. Leandra laughs at your answer and how you get full panic within seconds.

—So you are the type who only likes to stare? —she mocks you. You softly push her, joking.

Oh, yes, and he looks so fine. That suit is tight in all the right places.

-

The party gets better and wilder as the night progresses, and the alcohol takes a toll on your systems. 

People are dancing to Lando's DJ's seductive set and hooking up everywhere; the lights are dim, and neon lasers pulsate to the beats. 

Bodies move in sync with the rhythm as you gather on the dance floor. Max offers the mushrooms around, and a "Fuck it! I deserve to feel alive!" feeling overpowers you, and you join them as they cheer you in, feeling now more like part of the pack!

Amidst the blur of Carlos' dancing body, your partner for the night, you start to feel everything on your skin: the energy, passion, and thrill. You needed this tempting display of youthful freedom and uninhibited release; you were begging for your inhibitions to fade temporarily.

You can't wait for the course to start and for this new chapter in your life to begin. Please don't let it just be a dream!

Thank you for reading; see you in the next chapter! Let me know if you like this storyline; it is a work in progress!