lewsnumerounofan

[lewsnumerounofan]

oscar is so bbygirl

#wanna have him whining idc

[lewsnumerounofan]

I'd probably still adore you with your hands around my neck

[lewsnumerounofan]

🎀≽^• ⩊ •^≼୧ ‧₊˚

rafe wasn’t a big sweatpants wearer.

he liked to think of himself as matured, classy, reeking of money. sweatpants was something he associated with being a slob, lazing around, not getting off your ass and working. that didn’t mean he didn’t own a few pairs— you know, for sleeping, lounging, etcetera.

because of his dislike for the garment, you’d rarely see him in anything other than work slacks or kook-y board shorts, which is why when he brushed past you in the hallway of tanny-hill, wearing grey sweatpants and a black tshirt — you were lost for words.

“wh—where are you going?” you all but mewl, quietly padding behind him as he frantically searches the bowl placed on the chest by the door.

“uh, gotta run n’see barry— the fuck are my keys? you seen ‘em?” he stressed, itching his forehead as he thinks about where he might’ve left them.

“no, uhm… you’re going out dressed like that?” you ask.

grey sweatpants — a grown man’s lingerie. with each step rafe took, it became abundantly clear that he’d skipped out on boxers today, something he never did, true lazy-day style. his dick print hung heavy in the centre below the draw strings, thick and causing a bump in the soft fabric. he glances down at himself upon following your gaze and shrugs obviously.

“laundry day.” he stops his search to face you properly, eyeing you where you stand. “the hells with you, seem all out of it today.” his voice is low and tired, and you can’t help but bite down on your glossy bottom lip, stepping towards him. you say nothing, staring up at him— and he stares back, eyes vacant and lips parted. you stand on your tip-toes and kiss him.

he kissed back, albeit confused— and as soon as you pressed your body to his, feeling his bulge right on your tummy — something took over you. it wasn’t enough that you were ovulating, the sweatpants were making you feral.

you quickly pull away to sink to your knees, a hand stroking his hip bone as you start to leave kisses to his clothed cock, the meat of it instinctually hardening beneath your trained touch. he smirks for a moment in disbelief, watching the way you mouth at him — humming like you were the one being pleased.

“alright, hey— i get it. ‘think sarah’s home. you—you want her comin’ down the stairs n’seeing the shit? stand up, kid.” he reluctantly reprimands you, giving your jaw a firm little tap but you only whine and pull him closer— your open mouth breathing hot air onto his growing erectjon, flat of your tongue pressed to the soft fabric between loving kisses.

“s’okay dad just wanna give you kisses.” it comes out muffled, distracted, like you don’t actually know what you’re saying. he licks his lips irritably at you not listening, eyes fluttering before he grabs your jaw, pulling you up to stand.

“i said alright. easy, yeah?” he warns once he’s closer to eye level with you, still gripping your jaw. you grin, all slick-lipped and glassy eyed.

“can’t go out anymore daddy, not like that.” you point to his crotch, your mouth having darkened the light grey fabric all around his hardened bulge— making it obvious something had gone down. it was true, he couldn’t go out like that. barry was always looking for new things to tease rafe about, and this would be giving him perfect ammunition. he presses his lips together, nostrils flaring before he lets go of your face, the same hand reaching round to the back of you, grabbing the back of your little booty shorts and yanking, using the momentum to spin you suddenly to face the same way as him.

as soon as you’re facing the other way he slaps your ass, before prodding at your shoulder — signifying for you to walk toward the stairs. “shit, little brat. start walkin’, think you owe me something.”

you giggle, slowing your pace like you were gonna come back with another retort but he simply gives your shoulder another little shove — practically bullying you. “said go, didn’t i?”

🎀≽^• ⩊ •^≼୧ ‧₊˚

[lewsnumerounofan]

no more mister shy guy.

OP x fem!reader

in which you can’t work out why he just won’t sleep with you

i am neither normal, nor am i hinged! i hope you guys get the vision, i literally wrote this last night possessed by some feral urge bc i just love oscar sm and i’ve been needing to write for him sooo baaad. enjoy! pls lemme know what you think <3

songs to set the vibes: delicate by taylor swift, good looking by suki waterhouse, my kind of woman by max demarco, feeling myself by wolf alice

warnings: 18+!! minors dni!! smut, pwp but also there is some plot? overstimulation, crying in a hot way, choking, unprotected sex (L bozo don’t do that!) the most minor moment of angst, fluff

2.8k words

you watch him make coffee, daydreaming, balancing your heavy head on your hand. you study him while your free hand taps against the kitchen counter, nails drumming a random beat. sunlight streams through a gap in the curtains, framing him golden. you don’t think he knows how pretty he is.

oscar is oblivious to the way your mind is ticking behind him, twisting the cap on the carton of oat-milk. you hear the plastic fall onto the counter and your tongue wets your lower lip as he reaches up into the cupboard, his back flexing beneath his shirt as he finds your favourite mug. you realise then how swollen your lip is, snapped out of the trance he had you in, the one that had you biting your lip so hard, completely mindlessly.

he’s bulked up over the winter break, filled out a lot over the course of his rookie season. he’s no longer the scrawny, anxious guy you’d met at your fathers work event a year ago, he’s broader, thicker in your hands, utterly delicious. as much as you like the way he looks, you like his mind a whole lot more. if only you knew what was going on inside it.

oscar is an enigma, quiet, hilariously dry, the kindest man you’d ever had the pleasure of meeting. you’ve been together since the start of the winter break, november, after awkward run ins and plenty of pining since the start of his first season. you’d travel to races with your dad, a mclaren sponsor, and run into the australian, stare at each other and pretend no one noticed. after months of teasing from lando, oscar finally got the kick up the arse that he needed and you’d said yes to dinner before he’d even finished asking the question.

it’s february now, a week til he needs to be in bahrain. the last three months had been serene, spent with a man made of sunshine, and you’re sad to see him go, as if you won’t be in the emirates a mere four days after him. you fear the way you’ll ache for him, having been inseparable since the dinner that started it all.

but then again, it can’t be worse than the way you ache for him now.

“sweetheart?” oscar is waving his hand in front of your face when you realise he’s been calling your name for a good 15 seconds, and you have, in fact, been staring. hm? you jump, staring at him bewildered. he looks amused. “you okay?” he coos, sliding the coffee across the island towards you.

“yeah, sorry, i, um, i just- why won’t you have sex with me?” you blurt, slapping your hand over your mouth as soon as you realise what you’ve just said.

oscar just blinks, mouth forming a little o, the permanent blush he seems to have increasing tenfold. you instantly feel guilty for ambushing him, but you were at the end of your tether. three months of nothing, nada, zilch. every move you made was refuted, ignored as if he was oblivious. you were ravenous for him, he’s so gorgeous! and you didn’t want to pressure him, but you were starting to feel like there was something wrong with you.

you’d wake up in bed with him wrapped around you, grinding against your ass in his sleep, and you’d revel in it, the rare times that he actually seemed to want you like that. you loved him regardless, of course you did, but you’d be lying if you said you didn’t need to be… dealt with. urgently.

“i- um- what?” oscar splutters, and the bottom of his mug blinks against the granite.

“is there something wrong with me? am i not pretty enough?” you whisper, shy. “do you just not… like- do you not want to do that?” you ramble.

panic fills his face, and he’s rushing around the island, by your side in an instant. he takes your hands into his, finding your eyes. they’ve grown watery, a mixture of guilt and desperation swirling in them which makes him feel ill.

“baby, no, god no.” he rushes the words out, desperate to convince you that it wasn’t you. “you’re the most beautiful person in the entire world, prettiest girl i ever saw.” he promises. “i’m just… it’s scary.”

“oh, osc.” your face falls, and you want to throw yourself off of the balcony. “i’m sorry, i didn’t mean to pressure you. if it makes you feel better, i’m scared too. but i love you so much, i just want to feel even closer to you.”

“you didn’t make me feel pressured, i’m just sorry i made you feel unwanted. trust me, i want you like that. drives me insane. but i’ve never had sex before with someone that i love. not the way i love you, anyway. scared that i won’t be good enough for you.” he murmurs.

you’re hung up on the part where you drive him crazy, the part where he loves you like that, and then you remember how vulnerable he’s being, baring his entire soul to you, and you rip yourself from the fantasy.

your hands smooth over his shoulders, until you’re softly fisting a clump of hair at the nape of his neck.

“i love you. insanely. we’ll go slow.” you state. he moulds further against you, and you quickly realise it’s for leverage, because the next thing you know, you’re in his arms. he has his hands hooked under your thighs and he’s kissing you so, so deeply that you’re dizzy. you don’t realise that you’re halfway to his bedroom until he pulls away.

“i don’t wanna go slow anymore.”

oscar places you on your feet at the end of his bed, the large, plush king-sized mattress that is currently calling both of your names. your blouse gets unbuttoned first, his hands shaking in a way that makes you melt, and his lips trail over every inch of bare skin that he uncovers. when it finally falls to the floor, his pupils are blown wide, his hands palming intricate black lace. your jeans are stripped away mercilessly, his hands shaking less now, and you take it as a sign to crawl backwards onto the bed.

he stands there, watching you, apprehensive again. you can see how hard he is, how desperately strained his cock is through the light grey of his sweatpants, and so you switch tactics. your hand grazes your tummy, skimming up your abdomen until you reach a bra strap. you toy with the elastic, holding the kind of eye contact that makes him twitch, tugging it until it hangs loosely off of your shoulder.

“i need you, osc. i trust you.” you utter, soft and enticing. one finger runs under the cup of your bra, flicking over your nipple. he can just about see the hardened bud through the lace of your bra. it’s not enough, though, and every ounce of self control depletes when you whine, “want you inside of me so badly.”

the elastic band snaps and he’s on top of you, rutting between your legs like a man starved. you drag his shirt up and over his shoulder blades, moaning as you feel each and every muscle under your fingertips.

“just wanna make you feel good.” oscar rasps, rolling his hips even harder into your core.

“take these off.” you beg, pulling at the waistband of his joggers. he somehow musters the strength to pry himself off of you, just long enough to discard the uncomfortable material of his sweats, but as soon as he looks down, his plans change.

painted over the crotch of them is a shiny pool of your slick, and when his eyes flit hungrily to your core, he sees where you’ve soaked through your panties. you’re panting when you see the stain, and you just want to get him inside of you, but his priorities have changed. oscar collapses between your legs, head buried, tongue exploring.

he groans, carnal and needy, into the fabric of your underwear, laving his tongue over the lace. your eyes widen as he dives in, licking over the wet patch until he grows frustrated. you hear the tearing of the fabric, feel his big hands pawing at your thighs to spread them as wide as they’ll go. his tongue slides right inside of you and he whines. he fucking whines. the vibration nearly makes you scream. you can’t believe this is your oscar, the same oscar that had quivered with nerves a mere five minutes ago.

“oh my god.” you chant, rolling your hips against his face. you must be all over him by now, what with the way he’s sucking and slurping, obscene sounds of wetness sounding around the room. you’d be blushing a deep red if you weren’t so turned on, shaking against his bedspread which will probably need changing once he’s done with you.

you thought that maybe he was inexperienced and that was the source of his fear, but if he was, you never would have known. he was a natural in between your legs, nipping at your clit to get you even louder for him.

you cum faster than ever, and he’s mumbling something incoherent into your pussy when you do. you’re riding the high, midway through the bliss, when a thick finger slips its way inside of you. oscar realises that he can easily slide another in, and he does. he doesn’t thrust them in and out, he grinds them against your walls, and your mouth falls open as a silent scream forces it’s way out.

you cum a second time, in record time yet again, and he still doesn’t let up. he’s hitting that spot relentlessly with his fingers, keeping your clit between his swollen lips, and you’re begging him. for what, you’re not sure, but you’re whimpering his name like you’re going to die. and what a good way to go this would be.

his eyes meet yours, and he looks unhinged. that’s when you feel it. that all consuming, belly twisting rush.

“oscar!” you try to warn him, but it’s too late, and he knows it. he makes you squirt, because of course he does. the shy guy who was scared that he wouldn’t be able to please you makes you squirt.

he pulls his mouth off of you but keeps his fingers buried deep, eyes fixed on watching the way your pussy convulses.

“holy shit.” you cry. you’re staring down at him like you’ve gone insane. he’s smiling innocently.

“was that good?” he almost sounds shy and you want to kick him.

“are you… are you serious?” you rasp. oscar just shrugs. “get up here.” you reach for him and complies, slotting himself between your legs once more.

oscar resumes the rolls of his hips, and the friction of the grey fabric against your core makes your eyes roll back.

“please, oscar, fuck me.” you whine, his head falling into the crook of your neck. he bites down, leaving behind the sting of his teeth and a faint purple splotch.

“fucking love you.” he slurs, his accent thickening in a way that makes him sound that extra bit fucked out already.

“i love you.” you murmur, forcing his sweats down his legs. his boxers are wet, just like your panties were, and you can’t help but stare. oh, it’s big.

his boxers are peeled down and you can feel yourself throbbing. his cock hangs heavy, red and dripping, painfully hard. you reach for it, looking at him to make sure it’s okay to touch, and he’s rapidly nodding his head. your small hand struggles but you make it work, and his head tips back, exposing his thick neck that you want to suck purple. your hand works over him a few times, and a visible shiver running through his body makes you stop.

“you ready for me?” he asks through gritted teeth.

“please.” you gasp, locking your legs around his waist. “however you want me, ‘m yours.” you breathe.

oscar’s eyes roll back in his head, your words sending his brain blank, and then he’s pushing home, slow and deep.

“fucking hell.” he groans, guttural. you’re so tight, warm, soaking wet. he feels like the biggest idiot in the world for waiting so long for this.

“oh.” you gasp, your eyebrows knitting together. he’s so deep. “so full.” you pant.

“can you take it, sweetheart?” oscar’s lips bump your jaw. “want you to take it.” you nod profusely, desperate to hear him run his mouth even further. your eyes clench shut when you feel him move, just the tiniest bit, readjusting.

“move.” you plead. he’s staring down at you, watching every single micro movement of your face.

oscar pulls out the smallest bit and thrusts back in, nice and slow. the drag drives you feral, the weight of him on top of you makes you weak. you want to stay like this until the end of days.

“good?” he hisses, trying to keep composed. he’s finally inside of you, claiming you as his in the most intimate way of all. he tries not to think about how many times he could have had you begging under him in the last three months.

“so good, so good.” you repeat, pushing your hips up to try and meet his.

“so pretty like this for me. always so, so pretty.” he rambles. he realises that he never quite made it as far as getting your bra off, and he needs to see all of you. the cups are tugged haphazardly down, and oscar stares at your breasts like he’s never seen tits before. you hear him hum, low and greedy, and then you feel the wet drag of his tongue across your nipple.

the animalistic whine that he rips from you makes him thrust harder, upping his pace a bit. he can hear how much wetter you get when he picks up his pace, and he changes up his rhythm, pushing all the way in and dragging out again at lightning speed. your jaw goes slack and your eyes are damp.

“baby, what’s wrong?” oscar slows to a stop, and you want to scream.

“no, no, no, keep going.” you choke out, your throat constricting with a sob. “it’s so good. feel so good.” you sound drunk, all for him, and he loses his mind completely.

he taps into that athletic stamina, fucking into you with a newfound vigour that you didn’t think was humanly possible, and you feel things that you didn’t even know you could feasibly feel. you see stars behind your eyes, his face, and nothing else but bright white. calloused fingers find your clit, and you wonder fleetingly if he’s trying to kill you when he rubs messy shapes into the much too overstimulated bud. his teeth graze your nipple, and everything seems to come together perfectly.

thick tears run hot down your cheeks, only to be licked away by eager tongue. your belly tightens, aflame for him; he’s wound your body up perfectly and you’ve never in your life teetered so dangerously over the edge.

“can feel you, baby. want you to cum, okay? ‘n then i’m gonna fill you up.” oscar grunts. you clamp down on him even tighter, thanking god for oscar’s filthy fucking mouth and birth control, and then everything snaps.

you think you scream, you know that you’re sobbing, and your throat is raw when the wave hits. oscar keeps going, intensifying your pleasure, and when he finally let’s go, it’s the most beautiful fucking thing you’ve ever seen. it’s surreal, the way his neck flexes, eyes clenched tight, brown locks flopping over his sweat damped forehead. and the sounds he makes, god. he’s muttering into your ear, lewd and shameless, and a fifth orgasm nearly takes you under.

“gonna need you everyday like this, tight fucking pussy, all mine. can’t live without this now. fucking perfect.” he’s rambling, burrowing deep into you one last time. you feel his warmth spilling into you, feel his hot breath fanning your face. he licks into your awaiting mouth.

“fuck.” you giggle, breathless.

“good?” he raises an eyebrow, grinning bashfully.

“more than worth the wait.” you whisper, mustering the strength to lift your head just enough so that you can peck his lips. “you better not hold out on me ever again though.” oscar laughs at that and you feel the rumble in your flushed chest.

“you promise?” there’s the shy guy again.

“osc, honey, that was the best. ever. ever. need you to be mr sex god more often.”

“only if you behave for me.” he smirks down at you.

“there he is.” you sigh happily.

when he snakes his way back between your legs, lapping up the mess he’s made, and then some, you wonder just what you’ve unleashed.

-

whoops? lol

-

taglist

@thegirlinthefandoms @mcmuppet @japanesekel @vinvantae @ggaslyp1 @dr3lover @smiithys  @rachstash @infinitebells @fizzpopsnap101 @gaily19 @icecoldtires @mysticalnightenthusiast @thatchickwiththecamera @oyesmendes @disneydaydreameralways @canyouseethesainz @ferrarifwendvale @fcbformulaeri @tony-stank3 @maih23 @nokiaholland @soleilgrec @carolineworld @anthonykatebridgerton @allywthsr @iamasimpingh0e @ophcelia @lovelynikol16 @coffeehurricanes @jennx03 @blueflorals @lqvesoph @sidcrosbyspuck @better-dead-than-smeg @buendiabebeta @pjofics @kovalcin @wintergilmore3 @for-writing-shit @youdontknowmeshh @im-an-overthinker @jule239 @darleneslane @jazzy722 @weasleyswizarding-wheezes @therealone4r @pleasecallmeunhinged @theonlyadrienne @spideylovin @charli123456789

(run outta space on my taglist lol, lemme know if u wanna be added or removed)

[lewsnumerounofan]

rafe groaned too this time, corded neck falling back as you dragged over his crotch. you couldn’t help yourself—you let your lips fall to his tan skin, kissing and sucking below his ear as his hips began to meet yours. 

he jolted, as if shocked, at the warm press of your tongue. hands on your hips now, he guided them forward and back, heady, desperate moans canting from his red mouth. 

you were crazy. seeing him like this, hearing the low, urgent sounds from his throat: you felt powerful. for once in your relationship you felt in control. drawing back enough to watch the way his steel blue eyes fluttered you tsked at his heavy breathing. 

“that feel good baby?” 

the sound that left his parted lips would haunt you for the rest of your life. his hips stuttered, pupils wide as they watched you. like a fucking puppy. 

you let your nails rake over his scalp, tugging his head to one side so you could kiss up his throat, his bobbing adams apple. at his ear you whispered, “you look so pretty like this, rafe.”

~ little excerpt from childhood friends to lovers angst fic coming soooooon ;) lmk if u wanna b added 2 taglist

#brain rot. #rafe cameron #rafe cameron smut

[lewsnumerounofan]

࿐ ࿔*:･ﾟ🦈

jj fuckin’ his girl bestfriend all nice and slow, taking in her body just in complete shock that this is reality and not some crazy wet dream. tanned arms supporting his body weight beside her head where her hair is splayed around her head like a halo making her look like some kind of goddess, full lips parted and eyes closed, little ‘uh, uh, uh‘s’ leaving her pretty mouth at every thrust where jj’s fat cock nudges that spot inside her squelchy pussy that makes her dig her nails more aggressively into his muscly back.

her eyes opening for a second when his thrusts become more frantic and miscalculated, her orgasm building white hot in her lower stomach making her moan out, their eyes locking as he continues thrusting, his orgasm building as fast as hers seemed to be.

on a whim, she reaches up to take his shark tooth necklace between her teeth, the action innocent but making jj even more desperate for his release, her innocent eyes looking up at him as he thrusts harder, an even deeper desire consuming him as she moans out.

wrapping her arms around his neck and pulling him down into a heated kiss, tongues swirling deliciously against each other as he swallows all of her pretty little noises, pulling away to watch her face as she claws harder at his back, his arms aching but he wasn’t about to miss this moment, eyes flicking to her tits as her noises got louder. “‘m fuckin’ coming jj!”

“cmon come for me pretty.” he says, keeping his pace and not looking away from her face, a loud moan spilling from her wet lips as she comes undone, face contorted beautifully as her eyelids slip closed again, feeling the wetness of her orgasm coating his cock he lets go too with a loud groan, as she watches his adams apple bob as he cranes his neck back, dropping his arms which supported his weight and whispering praises inaudibly into her neck.

their sweat-slick bodies pressed impossibly close but still needed to be closer, with his slowly softening dick still inside her sopping pussy she takes a hand through the tangles strands of blonde hair and a kiss to his sweaty forehead, making him smile and press a lazy kiss to her collarbone. “can’t believe we didn’t do that sooner, you’re fuckin’ perfect.” he mumbles, making her blush crimson as he nuzzles his face into her neck and breathes out all relaxed.

[lewsnumerounofan]

day dreaming about slow, sloppy, lazy making out with mattheo riddle. his little grunts, soft moans, my fingers tangled in all those pretty curls, as his hands wander up and down. lay in bed, wrapped up in the sheets, tangled together…

that’s it send tweet

#bruh.

[lewsnumerounofan]

—the seasons of love masterlist

or; the situationship fic. summ. charles leclerc x female reader. all chapters 18+

—one: winter, the first time

He’s never been able to turn down one of your challenges, however thinly veiled they might be. It’s his own personal sore spot, the one that you poke and prod as often as you can. Competition has always been the foundation of your mutual annoyance, it’s not going to suddenly change after some eighteen years of consistency. Finally, he relents, lets you think you’re pulling him to his feet, dragging him to dance with you and your sister.

—two: spring

He’s in control, navigating every corner and chicane with precision, never once giving into the pressure of the bullet behind him. Max tries, he tries and tries, to close in on Charles, but he holds him, defends his position with skill and tenacity that makes you attracted to a helmet, to the mind it protects. 

—three: summer

He hesitates, locks his gaze on the path ahead. “Life, I guess. Responsibilities, expectations, the weight of it all. It’s easy to forget to appreciate the simple things.” He shifts his steps slightly, brushes his arm against yours and makes you shiver. He makes you so nervous. You fucking hate that he makes you so nervous now. He’s looking at you, and you’re the one fixed on the trail. It’s a simple swap, but it feels heavy, it does. “Hey,” he says, soft. Comfortable.

—four: autumn

You’re sitting on the edge of the hotel bed when he gets back from media day, Ferrari polo and light wash jeans and a dumb smile greets you, grumpy with arms crossed over your chest. “Did you have to send me a fucking plane ticket?” You snapped.

—five: winter, the second time

Arthur’s eyes dart between the two of you. Charles, you, and then back again. Charles is lucky, his back is turned to the whole thing. You’re the one who has to deal with his questioning glances. He stirs sugar into his cold coffee, and the spoon clinks against the sides of the mug painfully loud. 

[lewsnumerounofan]

#lemme SUCK it

[lewsnumerounofan]

thinking abt how rafe would 100% get your initial tatted on him right over his heart and wait until you were pulling off his shirt to mention it.

"rafe you got a fucking tattoo?? of my name--are you crazy?"

"for you, yeah."

and how he'd be all fucking smug and clueless about it when you wanted to ride him so you could watch the light play off the black letters, watch his muscles flex under your brand.

#rafe cameron #brain rot.

[lewsnumerounofan]

got a slowburn childhood friends to lovers rafe fic coming up.... this shit abt to be soooo nasty.

update: it’s legit gonna b like. at least 10k words this is stupid.

#i make myself sick bro.

[lewsnumerounofan]

if i was lewis rn id simply tweet ‘always looked better in red’ and close my fucking laptop

#Lewis Hamilton

[lewsnumerounofan]

Medusa and the blind woman in love

patreon // check more of my work on instagram // buy prints here

#dead

[lewsnumerounofan]

˚ ⟢ .˚ 𝐀 𝐋𝐄𝐒𝐒𝐎𝐍 𝐈𝐍 𝐌𝐀𝐍𝐍𝐄𝐑𝐒 ˚. ⟢ ˚ 𝐌𝐕𝟑𝟑 𝐎𝐍𝐄 𝐒𝐇𝐎𝐓

[ max verstappen x fem!reader ] - REQUESTED

┈⋆⭒ summary. After Max’s little fit during the 2023 Austin Grand-Prix, you can’t stand his attitude any longer and decide to teach him some manners.

┈⋆⭒ word count. 3.2k

┈⋆⭒ tags. femdom!reader, sub!max, [m] edging, [m] overstimulation, [m] multiple orgasms, mommy kink, dirty talk, 'not quite enemies' to lovers

⌇WARNINGS. mommy kink as mentioned above, reader is a bit mean/degrading

You roll your eyes when Max crosses the finish line again– obviously.

"There was no reason for him to act like such a dick on the radio." You tell your coworker, who simply shrugs before typing in stuff about the race for future data analysis.

You were a strategy engineer at Red Bull and while you couldn't deny the talent that inhabited the golden boy, Max Verstappen, you couldn't shake off the annoyance you felt towards him as he, according to you, acted like a spoiled little brat whenever things didn't go his way.

He'd been complaining all weekend going into the Austin Grand-Prix: first, he'd complained about the sprint race format (when did he not) and now, he'd first been complaining about the brakes during the entire first half of the race as Norris kept evading every attempt Max made to overtake him until he seemingly had enough and basically told his engineer, GP to fuck off and went radio silent until he made it to the checkered flag, winning again– obviously.

Now he was being paraded around by his team, a huge smile etched onto his face as he climbed up the steps of the podium. As the Dutch anthem resonated yet again across the circuit, your eyes caught his, making his smile grow wider and your cheeks redden (if anyone asked, you'd tell them it was out of irritation and NOT because of how handsome he looked, his messy hair sticking to his sweaty forehead, chest heaving harshly and lips wet from the water he had downed after getting out of the car). As the champagne bottles pop above you, coating the drivers in bubbly foam, you catch GP smiling fondly at Max, cheering on the young man as if he hadn’t been disrespecting him publicly not even an hour ago. Suddenly, your previous anger comes back crashing into you like a wave, making you forget all about the warm, sticky alcohol sliding down the Red Bull champion's neck: how dare he speak to GP like that? Who did he think he was?

You sneak towards GP, congratulating him for the race, eliciting a cheerful laugh and a warm thank you from him before turning away from the podium and making your way back to the motorhome, itching to get away from the World's Most Ungrateful Champion. You grab yourself an energy drink before sitting down in the silence of hospitality, ironically trying to calm yourself down before the post-race interviews come to an end.

──

You're wandering around the halls, stretching your legs out before they announce the weekend's tedious debrief when you pass by Max's room. You don't mean to confront him, not really, but when you see him, sitting on the physio's table, his phone in hand, without a care in the world, your legs seem to have a mind of their own as you step into his room, closing the door behind you, your body buzzing with anger.

"Oh," He says, not bothering to look up from his phone. "Could you get me some ice packs?"

"No."

He looks up with confused eyes when he hears your voice, not expecting you to be standing a meter away from him. He raises an eyebrow, opening his mouth to ask why you were there and what he was supposed to do about the ice packs then, but his questions are interrupted by your harsh voice.

"How dare you talk to GP like that, Max?"

"Excuse me?" He sets his phone down on the table.

"He's a good person and a damn good engineer and he shouldn’t have to put up with you being an asshole just because you think you’re better than him."

Max looks at you with an unimpressed frown but keeps his mouth shut for a moment before slowly holding his weight onto his outstretched arms, leaning backwards in a bored way.

"Firstly, It's none of your business how I talk to my race engineer. Secondly, he's never complained before and thirdly, I don’t think I’m better than him."

You scoff at his answer.

"Well, he should have complained. You can't keep acting like that, Max. You won the fucking race, you knew you'd win the race anyway," You raise your voice as he rolls his eyes indifferently, "Fuck, I can't stand you."

Max tilts his head to the side as he stares at you, a flash of something you can't quite discern appearing momentarily behind his eyes, before sighing and shaking his head.

"Well, I'm sorry." He says bitingly. "Happy?"

You huff, unable to fathom how childish the man in front of you is acting.

"Happy? I don’t need you to apologize to me. This has nothing to do with me, Max." You exclaim.

"Are you sure? 'Cause, right now, it feels like I'm being lectured by my mom." He sneers.

Your mouth falls open and that's when you snap. You hadn't noticed how close you had gotten to him but with only one step you close the gap between the two of you. You put your hands on his thighs, spreading them open so you can settle between them and lean closer to his face.

"Yeah? That's what you want? Want mommy to put you back in your place?"

The atmosphere shifts between the two of you, the air growing thicker and the tension so strong, it almost makes you feel dizzy. You can see the way Max gulps, his Adam's apple bobbing up and down, and feel his thigh muscles clenching underneath your palms.

"Answer me, Max."

"No." He says with a shaky voice.

"No?"

The room falls silent, both of you staring the other down, not wanting to be the first to break eye contact. He looks down at your lips momentarily and you mirror him before sliding your hand a bit further up.

"Do you want this?" You ask again, softer this time.

He hesitates, eyes squinted like he’s trying to figure you out. After a few seconds– that felt way too long for you, making you start to second guess yourself– he finally answers.

"Yes."

"Yes, what?" Your voice is back to being stern, your eyes never leaving his darkening blue ones as his face radiates warmth against yours.

"Yes, mommy."

Your hands find their way to the collar of his shirt, bunching the fabric in your hands, before you tug, making him stumble into a messy kiss. Your lips move harshly against his, teeth clashing as your tongues tangle together. It's hot, it's impulsive, it's animalistic.

He groans into the kiss when you bite his bottom lip, tugging slightly before pulling away. His eyes are wild and dark, the blue of his iris almost entirely covered by his dilated pupils, his lips red and swollen, a thin layer of spit coating them.

You take a step back, letting go of his collar as your fingers trail down his neck and over his chest before sliding under the hem of his shirt. He tenses up at your cold fingers and you bring your hands higher, grazing your fingertips against his nipples, feeling them harden and eliciting a soft moan from him.

"Take this off." You say, nodding towards his shirt.

Max obeys, quickly discarding his shirt, revealing the toned body you've seen so many times, in a different setting of course, and thought about occasionally in settings less than professional.

You stare at his pale chest and he smirks.

"Like what you see?"

You frown before bringing your right hand to his mouth, pressing two fingers against his plump lips.

"Shut up and suck."

He opens his mouth narrowly and lets your fingers slide inside, his tongue immediately swirling around them, coating them in spit. You can feel yourself getting wetter and allow yourself to let out a moan. Max grins, cockily around your fingers, eyes never leaving yours and you push your digits further down his throat, making him gag and erasing the smile from his face.

"That's better. You're cute when you don't speak."

He moans again, this time his hips bucking up subtly at your words.

You remove your fingers and spit strings between his mouth and your hand, making a mess as you wipe them on his cheek first then on his stomach, prompting him to clench his abs. You slide your fingers inside his pants, pulling at the waistband before skillfully unbuckling the belt.

"Stand up."

He slides off the table and stands up, towering over you and you smirk, sliding his pants down. You drop to your knees and look at him through your lashes. You lick your lips, your pussy clenching at the sight of his hard cock jumping slightly within the confines of his boxers.

"I will teach you how to behave, sweetheart." You tell him, voice dripping with poison as you start rubbing his clothed bulge slowly.

Max closes his eyes and drops his head backwards, a loud moan escaping his lips as his hips start rutting against your hand.

"Look at you, I bet I could make you come just like this." You mock him, your free hand reaching for his hip, asking him to stand still.

"Don't, please—" he whispers.

"M’not doing anything." You giggle, your eyes sparkling as you watch his hips seeking out the warmth of your palm.

"Want you, your mouth, your hand around me, anything." He says, pink blush dusting his chest.

"Hm, Maybe. Let's see if you're good."

You slide his boxers down, his cock slapping his stomach, precum leaking from the tip. You hold your breath as you grab his cock with your right hand, giving it a few tugs, the left hand still gripping his hip, keeping him in place as his muscles strain. You finally exhale with a quiet moan as you watch the tip of his cock leaking precum all over your fingertips.

"Making a mess, that's not very nice." You tease him, spreading his precum along his shaft.

"I'm sorry." He apologizes, looking down at you.

"Are you though?" You pout.

"Y-Yes."

"Hm?" You know you have him wrapped around your finger and want to enjoy yourself as much as you can.

"I'm sorry, mommy." He whimpers.

"Good boy." You whisper back, watching as he melts under your words.

You keep moving your hand along his cock, tightening your grip, eliciting a low groan from the Dutchman.

"I like you like this, so sweet and obedient." You tell him, holding his shaft with one hand and playing with the precum bubbling at his tip with your other hand's fingers. "You're doing so good, Max."

You feel his hips twitch and his cock pulsate in your hand.

"Can I—" he asks, his breathing coming out erratically.

"Come?" You ask, innocently.

He nods.

You bark out a vicious laugh.

"Already? No, of course not, not yet."

You lick his tip tentatively, earning a whine from the man.

"You've got such a pretty cock, Max." You praise, watching his face grow redder, "and it's all hard, just for me." You tease him.

You press a chaste kiss against his tip and he bites his lip, hard, trying to stifle a moan.

"Don't do that, sweetheart. I want to hear how much you're enjoying yourself."

He nods and you finally wrap your lips around his tip, causing him to let out a high-pitched moan. You suck, licking the underside of his cock, tasting his salty precum as you start to bob your head up and down, taking him deeper into your mouth.

"Please." He begs.

You pull off, making him groan and you look up at him innocently.

"See, you can be so, so polite when you want to." You say as you keep pumping him slowly.

He moans, nodding and you decide to indulge him, wrapping your lips around his tip once more, hollowing your cheeks and taking him deeper down your throat. You keep going until his tip hits the back of your throat, making you gag, spit gathering at the corner of your lips. His hips stutter a bit and you pull off, his hard, wet, cock bouncing up towards his stomach.

"You're so pretty Max," you say, truly in awe, "do you like seeing me on my knees, sucking you off?" You muse stroking him sloppily.

"Yes." He breathes out.

You laugh, "Oh, I bet you do. Bet you've been thinking about this for a while too, haven't you?"

He nods.

"I'm not telling you again Max, when I ask you a question I expect an answer."

"Yes, I have."

"I've caught you staring at me, I know you have." You say, licking his tip, making his thighs shake. "Bet you think about fucking me a lot, huh?" You take him in your mouth, bobbing your head a few times. "Bet you've jerked off so many times thinking about fucking my tight little wet cunt."

"Fuck—"

"What's that?"

"I did."

"Wanna know a secret?"

"Y-Yes." He stutters out.

"I think about you all the time. It's such a shame you like behaving like a brat."

"I can be good, mommy." He whispers.

You get up, your knees cracking and complaining a bit at the sudden movement but you ignore the dull pain rushing through your legs. You cup Max's cheeks before pressing a chaste kiss onto his lips.

"I know you want to be good for me, baby." And Max preens, he fucking preens at the nickname. "But you have been so mean, Max." You pout.

You push him back until he's sitting again on the physio table, his legs hanging off the edge. His hard, red cock standing up between his legs. You wrap your hand around his length once more and start jerking him off, twisting your hand and using the other to lightly stroke his nipples. Small whimpers keep tumbling out of his mouth.

"I bet you're so pretty when you come, baby."

He drops his head against your shoulder and you kiss the crook of his neck tenderly.

"Please." He whines.

You can tell he's close, by the way his thighs shake and his chest heaves.

"Do you think you deserve to come, baby?"

"Only if you want me to, mommy."

You hum at his answer heart swelling with pride and something people might call endearment.

"Come for me sweetheart, come for mommy." You whisper in his ear, stroking him with one hand and playing with the hair at the nape of his neck with the other.

And with that, Max comes undone, spurting white ropes of cum all over your fist, a loud, drawn-out moan escaping his parted lips, he's spasming, rhythmically shaking from the force of his orgasm.

You coo at him, slowing down the movement of your hand but not stopping. He lifts his head and looks at you, confusion forming in his eyes. You wipe the bit of drool at the corner of his mouth before shushing him.

"Oh baby, I'm not done with you yet, I need to help you be better, I know you can be such a good boy when you want to."

"But I've been good, mommy." He says, just above a whisper as he starts squirming in your embrace.

"Good boys are grateful." You correct him.

You keep stroking his oversensitive cock and his head falls against your shoulder once more, his body shuddering against yours. You can hear the small, muffled sounds coming out of his mouth and you feel all warm against him, knowing that even though it must feel like a lot, he's pushing through, for you.

"Good boy, so good for me."

"Please." He cries out against your shoulder.

"What do you want, Max."

"I- I don't know." He's so out of it, the painful pleasure muddling his mind, making him unsure if he wants you to stop or keep going.

"You have to use your words, baby."

"Please, please, please." He moans against your shoulder, drooling a bit.

You keep going and he gasps and whines as his body spasms around, pushing through the sensitivity to reach his climax. He's babbling and panting, his voice raspy from moaning and breathing harshly.

"You can do it, sweetheart," You encourage him, stroking him harder and faster, your slick-covered hand sliding easily along his length, "such a good boy, letting mommy have her way with you, taking everything I give you."

And with that, he's coming again, the second orgasm being shorter but somehow more intense, making him bite into your shoulder, his whole body shaking as his cock spurts a weaker stream of cum onto his stomach. His fingers dig into your hips and this time he knows what he needs to do.

"Thank you, thank you, mommy," he repeats like a mantra as your hand slows down.

"There we go, I knew you could do it, so lovely for me."

You pull away, his sensitive cock twitching. You can't help but stare, he looks absolutely fucked out, his cock resting against his thigh, red and angry, the tip a darker shade than the rest, his cum mixing with his sweat, his chest rising and falling, his face covered by wild strands of hair and his fingers gripping the table tightly.

You wipe your hand onto a towel lying near before you lean down, pressing a small kiss on his forehead.

"I'm sorry." He says quietly.

"I know you are Max." You softly stroke his arms, trying to ignore how your heart is beating loudly inside your chest.

He looks up, blue eyes filled with adoration and you melt.

"Thank you, I think I- I really needed this." He says, blushing.

"It's okay." You tell him, moving your fingers to his hair gently, "I know it's been stressful, but you can't just take it out on others, okay?"

He nods and looks at you, biting his lip, about to ask something but hesitating.

"Hey... what's wrong?" You ask a bit worriedly as you help him pull his boxers and pants back up.

"I– um… Do you hate me?"

You look at him with a puzzled expression, "What? I had your dick in my mouth a few minutes ago. How could I hate you?" You ask, stunned.

He looks down, blushing. "I know, it's just, you— you said you couldn't stand me, after the race and-"

"Fuck, Max," Your ears heat up at the realization. "I'm sorry about that, I didn't mean it."

"S'okay." He mumbles.

You sit next to him and kiss his shoulder.

"It's not, You deserved the scolding for being a dick but you didn't deserve me being an asshole towards you."

"I've been told worse, don't worry." He jokes bluntly.

You frown. "That doesn't make it better, Max."

He stays silent. You sigh and grab his hand, interlacing your fingers.

"I really care about you Max and I’d like to do this— amongst other things— again sometime."

A smile plays on his lips and he nods. You lean towards him, kissing him. He responds immediately, his free hand going to the back of your neck, keeping you in place. The kiss is slow, passionate and full of unspoken emotions.

You pull away, looking into his eyes and he grins.

"Um—" He shifts awkwardly, "could you, maybe, please, get me some ice packs? I'm still a bit sore."

You let out a soft laugh and kiss his forehead, "Of course, the ice packs, I'll be right back."

[lewsnumerounofan]

hufflepuffs smell like honey and ginger.

ravenclaws smell like earl grey tea with lemon.

gryffindors smell like burning wood fire and smoke.

slytherins smell like mint and petrichor.

[lewsnumerounofan]

[lewsnumerounofan]

#so excited