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drurrito · 1 month

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Night Drive (18+)

Summary: You get a new car

AN: 18+ only y'all--we're gonna pretend that there are plenty of other self-driving cars that aren't t*sla...I hope this makes up for me not putting out another part of AYTO yet! All mistakes are mine.

Pairings: Natasha Romanoff x Reader

Warnings: cursing; reader has a dick; dom//powerbottom!Natasha; sub//top!reader

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You sink lower into your seat as you rev the engine of your new car with the widest grin Natasha can't see. Natasha looks hardly impressed from your view beyond the barely-legal tint of the windows.

You decide to roll down your window and plead your case.

"Hey baby."

Natasha rolls her eyes. You already screw yourself coming right out the gate with pleasantries, Natasha knows you're desperate to get on her good side when you do that.

"So...what do you think?" You vaguely gesture to the rest of the car and Natasha scoffs.

"I think you were a finance bro in your past life," she crosses her arms, and you relent, "probably," you sing as you round the car to lean against the hood. The gun metal gray still holds a shine in the moonlight. This wasn't an impulse purchase, you had been talking about buying a new car for a while now. You would go on little rants about the specs of certain cars whenever you saw them on the road or on TV. It's not like you were waiting when you had the money, being an avenger was a pretty-paying gig. You were just waiting for the right one, at the right time--a method you mastered by the time Natasha came around.

"Wanna go for a joyride?" You offer, already leaning off the hood and spinning the key in your hand.

Natasha wants to keep giving you a hard time, but you look so damn good in front of your sleek, expensive, new backdrop. Your muscles bulge under your fitted black shirt, and you have the cockiest smile on your face, like you knew you were winning this race.

"And if we get pulled over?"

"With SHIELD plates? I'm not worried about it," it almost comes out like it's scripted. You're not above rehearsing a speech for Natasha if it means getting your way. You're pulling out all the stops, but Natasha wants to remind you who's really behind the wheel. Her eyes rake over you slowly, intensely--the same way fresh lava travels over earth. You're standing at attention and you don't even know it.

"You gonna open the door for me or just stand there like you forgot your manners?" Natasha watches in amusement as you fumble for the door handle. She slides onto the cool leather while you make your way into the driver's seat yet again. You wait patiently for her to get comfortable and buckle in.

It's only when you rev the engine with a wink that Natasha muses this might have been a bad idea on her part. You punch the gas pedal and she's quickly acquainted with the back of the cherry red bucket seat.

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Natasha decides that she doesn't like going fast unless the fate of the world depends on it. She also decides this is the one exception when she sees the freeway system of veins in your forearms as you grip the steering wheel. Natasha feels like she's flying when she watches your triceps flex while you turn the wheel or do something as mundane as turning on her seat heater.

Natasha slides her seatbelt off in a way that doesn't set off the sensor--she didn't want this moment to be ruined by a lecture on why it's important to buckle-up. You're too distracted by the beat of your night drive playlist to notice her crawling closer to you.

You feel her lips on the shell of your ear, "eyes on the road, got it?"

"Yes ma'am," you try to say cooly, you don't dare chance a look over at her. She hums with satisfaction and rewards you with a kiss on the skin behind your ear and a nibble on your lobe that tightens the coil in your belly.

Natasha sucks and licks at your neck while her deft fingers work to undo your belt and zipper. Her hand explores the border of your waistband before dipping under and finding what it was looking for. You let out a whisper of a gasp when Natasha admires your full length and girth. Your grip on the wheel tightens, Natasha chuckles when she hears the leather under your fingers groan.

Natasha begins to stroke you slowly, agonizingly so, but that doesn't keep your hips from bucking up into her hand.

"Tash," that only elicits a rumble against your neck. Natasha's other hand curls around your neck and gives a light squeeze that makes your vision blur for a second. Her stroking picks up speed, you have to work impossibly hard to keep your foot off the brakes.

"Natasha, please."

"I like the way you say please, baby," she mumbles with your skin between her teeth.

"What did I tell you?"

"Eyes on the road, ma'am," you say with a quickness that makes the corner of her lips curl up in satisfaction.

"So smart," she praises before you helplessly watch her head lower until you feel her lips greet your cock with a sloppy kiss. You throw your head back against your seat with a pathetic moan.

"So desperate," Natasha teases, and your mind feels like it's going a million miles an hour--multitasking is usually your strong suit, but it seems damn near impossible now.

Natasha's tongue travels the length of you, your hips feebly buck into her mouth when she finally grants you entrance. You slow your speed to safely take a hand off the wheel and hold her hair back. She thanks you with a gentle squeeze on your thigh and the prettiest sounds you could have only ever imagined.

Your playlist is already repeating itself by the time Natasha comes up for air. She can barely hear it over your panting anyway. You're rock hard and right where she wants you.

"The car can drive itself, you know," you breathe out. Natasha's brow quirks with curiosity.

"Show me," it's a gentle command, but your fingers rush to press the right sequence of buttons. You ease the seat back with haste, and Natasha just lets you sit there for a few beats to take you in and also leave you in suspense.

Your fingers dumbly flex against your legs while you wait for further instruction from Natasha. She doesn't even try to hide her smirk when your eyes begin to dart between the road and her.

"You're not gonna let us crash right, dove?" Natasha's finger traces a feather-light trail down your arm. It's a genuine question, even though she knows you probably did some sizable research on the safety features of the car before you even entertained buying it.

"No ma'am, you're precious cargo," you give an easy smile and that's Natasha's cue to move and straddle your lap. You help her with your hands on her hips, your hands quickly retreating to your sides when she's situated over you.

Natasha swears your eyes are sparkling as you watch her slide her panties to the side with one hand and take your length in the other.

"Eyes on me, baby, just for a second," she coos and you obey. Natasha can't help but admire the striations of your muscles working overtime to restrain yourself. You've always been intoxicatingly obedient, even when it's downright painful. Your eyes are locked on Natasha's, you have to bite your lip to stifle a moan when she finally eases down onto your cock. She's already working her hips in a way that has your entire body buzzing. You can count on one hand how many cars have passed you by this whole time, just like you expected.

Your fingers dig into the leather of your seat, your eyes periodically glancing at the road to make sure it hasn't veered off course for whatever reason. Natasha steals a few sloppy kisses when she leans into you to get a better angle and bounce on your cock at a speed that should be illegal.

"Tash, I'm gonna-," you choke out between labored breaths.

"What was that baby?" she leans back and oh god, you wish you had the kind of self-control your car has right now. You feel like you're going to pass out watching Natasha ride your cock, you're too blissed out to realize that she's spelling out 'm-i-n-e-' with her hips.

"I'm gonna come so fast."

"I know baby."

That seals your fate. Your arm reaches back to brace yourself against the seat. With a long and drawn-out "fuck," Natasha feels you push deeper into her, filling her up with every last drop of you. You both fall into a sweaty, moaning heap against the seat. Your body trembling with aftershocks as Natasha scratches at the skin on the back of your neck. You only get to drink this feeling in for a few seconds until you see red and blue flashing lights in your rearview mirror.

"Shit," you sit up and Natasha freezes when she sees what you see. You feverishly check your speedometer, you're not speeding. You start rifling through your brain to see if you forgot to do something, insurance? Plates? Registration?

Your questions are answered when you watch the cop car speed off into the night. Natasha lets out a heavy sigh of relief that makes your dick twitch, reminding you both that you're still inside of her.

"Told you," you try not to sound so exasperated. Natasha just rolls her eyes before kissing your temple. Night drives might just become a regular thing now.

#not a word #not one peep #works #natasha romanoff imagine #natasha romanoff #natasha romanoff x reader #natasha x reader #natasha x you #natasha romanoff smut #what do i say?#use protection #dont actually have sex while operating a moving vehicle?#if you know what this is inspired by no u don't

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bedsyandco · 3 months

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𝐍𝐄𝐖 𝐊𝐈𝐃𝐒 𝐎𝐍 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐁𝐋𝐎𝐂𝐊

✰ 𝐩𝐚𝐢𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠 … fem!reader x ollie bearman ✰ 𝐬𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐲 … in which ollie makes his F1 debut, his girlfriend is there to support and the two quickly become fan favourites. ✰ 𝐜𝐨𝐧𝐭𝐞𝐧𝐭 … no warnings!! badly cropped photos of other f1 couples bc I needed to use them :/ ✰ 𝐧𝐨𝐭𝐞 … after finding out ollie bearman and I share a birthday, he would not leave my head and this is the result!! as always I hope you like it <3

formulawags

formulawags: ollie bearman and his girlfriend, y/n, entering the paddock on friday and saturday. ollie is set to make his F1 racing debut today after the news broke that Carlos Sainz will not be fit to race this weekend due to appendicitis

… (view all comments)

racingirly: you’re telling me I just discovered this cutie and on the same day I have to find out he has a gf? 😔

⤷ user44: sucks to be you. the F2 girlies winning rn because we know and love y/n

⤷ user51: so real. people have been missing out if they don’t know y/n. her and ollie are easily the cutest couple I’ve ever seen.

⤷ racingirly: well can we get a rundown? how did they meet? how long have they been dating? what does she do for a living?

⤷ user44: they’ve been dating for two years now but they’ve known each other their whole lives. childhood friends. she’s the same age as ollie so she’s currently in uni. don’t know where or what she’s studying tho

⤷ user51: she goes to university of Oxford and she’s studying engineering. that’s why ollie refers to her as “his little genius”

⤷ user90: how do you know all of this?

⤷ user51: her and ollie went live one day at like 2AM and answered a bunch of questions while baking cookies

olliebearman

liked by georgerussel, charlesleclerc, and others.

olliebearman: P7 not bad at all. was an honour to drive for @scuderiaferrari this weekend. hope you feel better soon @.carlossainz and thanks for the tips @.charlesleclerc.

… (view all comments)

dennishauger: has a photo with charles and george but still puts his girl plucking his eyebrows at the front

⤷ olliebearman: priorities man.

formula2: our little ⭐️

yourusername: I love you so much. Beyond proud of you!!❤️

⤷ olliebearman: I love you❤️

paularon: does plucking the eyebrows make you weigh less or what?

⤷ olliebearman: something like that

user70: stop I love them so much. ollie having so many photos of this weekend and posting one of his girlfriend doing his eyebrows means so much to me

yourusername

liked by olliebearman, paularon, and others.

yourusername: F1 debut weekend!! there’s so many things I could say but I’m going to keep it short🥲 I’m so beyond proud of my 🧸man. I’m in awe of him every day and he never fails to amaze me. you’re incredible and I love you so much ollie❤️🥺

… (view all comments)

olliebearman: you mean the world to me. thank you so much for always being my #1 supporter. I love you ❤️

⤷ yourusername: ❤️❤️❤️

paularon: reward kisses huh

⤷ yourusername: always 😌

charlesleclerc: it was very nice to meet you y/n! make sure to come visit the paddock and say hi whenever you’re travelling with ollie! 😊

⤷ user40: STFU😮

⤷ user81: y/n are you breathing?

⤷ olliebearman: she is not. guess I’ll have to do CPR

user52: stop cause I just know ollie was teasing her a bunch about her crush on charles this weekend

⤷ olliebearman: I can not confirm or deny🫡

#ollie bearman x reader #ollie bearman x you #ollie bearman x y/n #ollie bearman fic #ollie bearman fluff #ollie bearman #f1 instagram au #f1 x you #f1 x reader #f1 imagine

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fayesia · 7 months

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mechanic!toji fushiguro

mechanic!toji fushiguro who comes home late from work and hears you moaning upstairs, he races to the bedroom in rage expecting to see you with another man, instead finding you with your hand between your thighs and the other gripping the sheets, writhing around in pleasure moaning “toji…please toji” he’s sure to satisfy your needs until the early hours of the morning.

mechanic!toji fushiguro who you bring lunch to when he forgets it at home, only to find yourself five minutes later bent over the hood of a car he’s working on, getting absolutely destroyed by his tongue and fingers, “you’re the only fucking meal i need baby”.

mechanic!toji fushiguro who you immediately disliked after your first meeting when your car broke down in the middle of the countryside. “well darlin’ maybe you’re just to dim to know that your oil needs changing huh”. Little did you both know the rest of the night after this would be spent in a cheap motel room, where you would be ferociously plowed into the mattress, a moaning mess begging for more. “oh ye baby so fuckin’ tight”

mechanic!toji fushiguro who would always be in a dirty off coloured wife beater, that showed off his arm muscles sculpted by ares himself. Palms stained with grease and dirt—the same palms of the hands that grip tightly onto your waist as you grind you wet pussy along his worn out jeans, head tilted back fighting all the urges in you to let out your pornographic moans. Later after your absolutely soaking orgasm he would get straight back to work, unbeknownst to any customers that the wet stain was your cum as it just camouflaged amongst the various other ones from his job.

mechanic!toji fushiguro who would teach his three year old daughter how a car engine works while you would be hanging the clothes outside smiling at the two bonding. Carrying her on his shoulders he would help you finish up, put your daughter to sleep and spend the rest of the night in a whirlwind of intimacy you both missed since the birth of your first child.

mechanic!toji fushiguro who keeps a bunch of explicit photos of you in his wallet. One of your tits covered in his spit, nipples a red hue after being sucked and played with, another of your mouth filled with his cum as it drips out and down the sides of your neck, your eyes reflect a haze of pleasure with a mischievous glint to them. Even one of you in doggy with your ass red from his slaps and your pussy dripping with his cum as it glides down your inner thighs marking it with a trail of glistening sticky liquid.

#toji fushiguro #toji fushiguro smut #smut #jjk smut #jujustu kaisen smut #toji smut #toji x reader #jjk imagines

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caesium-55 · 2 months

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—seven days. [ vi.iii ]

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: updating bc i love yall. lol jk i dont want to study for my engineering management long quiz yet. sum1 yell at me to start studying or smth.

tags: @whatamidoingwithmylife-ramdom @eugene-emt-roe @bellezaycafe @barnestatic @theseerbetweenus @wcnorris @notyouraveragemochii @lpab @vildetry06 @a-beaverhausen @formula1mount @loloekie @alucardsdaddyissues @juky-ps @cassianswh0reeee @devotedlycrookeddonut @amberpanda99 @supermaxv1 @evie-119 @spideylovin @harianaswhore @formulaal

masterlist.

The Abu Dhabi Grand Prix 2021 is a little dramatic in Max’s opinion. Some would say controversial. A lot of restarts. The issue with the safety car. Hamilton and Verstappen goes neck to neck. 369.5 points to 369.5. In the end, Verstappen overtakes Hamilton and wins the 2021 World Drivers' Championship.

The team celebrates with him after winning and in the sea of Red Bull employees, Max searches for you.

He won! Max Verstappen won! He’s a WDC now! He finally made truth of the world he told you in 2019.

Kelly appears and kisses him square on the lips. Max sees you in his peripheral vision, pulling your ball cap lower on your face before turning around and leaving. He wants to call you but Kelly keeps him in place.

Max visits your hotel room later, all happy and he holds the canned bottle of beer to you when you open the door.

“I’m not the sour loser anymore.”

You smile at him and Max feels like he’s on top of the podium again.

“Told ya you’ll be champion one day. Congrats, champ. Very happy for you.”

Champ.

Max decides that he likes Champ over every name you call him.

2022

you: go to fucking sleep u degenerate gamer

you: its 3 in the morning you have a race at 8

max: youre not my mother

you: i am ur manager u ass

you: and i have ur mom’s cell no

you: i will fucking call her if ur stream doesn't turn offline in ten seconds

you: 10…

max: you wouldnt dare

you: 9…

He moves into a penthouse at the beginning of the year and purchases a jet, Dassault Falcon 900EX, to make the traveling easier. Flying commercial absolutely sucks, even first class.

When he mentions the money he spent; the penthouse rental cost, the price of the jet plus maintenance of the private plane service, you have stood up and went to the balcony to stare at the Monaco scenery to gather your thoughts. Max laughs as he watches your brain overheat. He tells security that you’re to be given an immediate pass into the building and his penthouse without the need of going through the strict security checks. He gives you a keycard that you barely use because you knock on the door every single time you come by. A month later, Kelly and Penelope move in and this is the beginning of the little family charade.

“What are you doing?”

“Is it not obvious?” you gesture to the iPad in your hand. “Readin’ a Lestappen fic in AO3.”

Max’s brows furrow.

“Lestappen?”

“The ship name between you and Charles. Lestappen. Leclerc, Verstappen, Lestappen,” you say as if it’s the most obvious thing in the world and he’s stupid for even asking, waving your hand in a complicated flourish. “It’s good. Top-tier literature. Want me to send you the link?”

Max’s nose scrunches, “So there are people who ship me and Charles?”

“You’d be surprised.”

“Romantically?”

You nod, “Want the link?”

“Absolutely not.”

You shrug your shoulders.

“Your loss.”

Max wins P1 (as things should be) in Austin, Hamilton P2, and Leclerc P3. The team holds a private drinking party in the hotel bar. Max sits with Leclerc, whom he has invited, and Lando, who came with Daniel, and Daniel because he’s Daniel and he still gets a free pass in Red Bull parties even though he’s in McLaren now.

Daniel passes him a bottle of Heineken and Max searches for the bottle opener on the table but it's nowhere. He reaches for you, who sits on the neighboring table with the PR team. Max grabs the hem of your polo shirt sleeve and tugs slightly to get your attention. He opens his mouth to ask if you’ve seen the bottle opener but you got to moving, not even giving Max the chance to speak.

Without even interrupting your conversation with the PR people or even breaking eye contact with the person who is talking animatedly, you take the beer bottle from Max’s hand, toss a hand towel on top of it, then you use your teeth to remove the cap. It opens with a loud click. You wipe the rim of the bottle, pocketing the bottle cap, before returning the Heineken to Max.

Max looks at the Heineken bottle in his hand.

You know, Sophie, Max’s mother, always say that there's a certain type of intimacy existing when two people are able to communicate without the use of words. People associate intimacy with bare skins and basking in the fragility and vulnerability of a person, but intimacy goes deeper than mere nakedness and showing all the bare parts of you to the other person. Intimacy comes hand in hand with truth. When you admit your truth to the other person, that's intimacy. Her knowing his truth, his needs, without him telling her. That's another kind. If that's not the purest form of love then he does not know what is.

Charles pats his shoulder to pull him to reality.

At that moment, Max decides he’s an asshole because he just realized that he likes his manager after she opens his beer bottle and he has a fucking girlfriend now.

Max wins WDC for the second year in a row. Leclerc is at second and Perez at third. He’s on the top of the fucking world. Everything feels right now that he’s standing at the top.

His eyes search for you in the crowd but he doesn't find you. Only Kelly. He kisses Kelly, celebrates with the team, and visits you in your hotel room later with a cold can of beer in hand. It's a little past midnight, his watch tells him. You open the door seconds after Max knocks.

“Have you talked to Horner?” you ask, accepting the beer and opening it. The loud click when you open it feels satisfying in his ears.

You’ve changed out of the Red Bull polo now and instead, you wear a black shirt.

“No,” Max shakes his head.

“When will you?”

“Soon.”

That's the only truth he can offer. Because the bigger truth is this: Max doesn't want you going anywhere, not even the engineering team who works closely with him. He only wants you here, beside him, behind him, at all times.

One more year. One more year and he's going to tell Christian to move you to the engineering team. One more year to have you and he’ll let you go.

(That's what he told himself last year, too.)

“Okay,” you nod and it relieves Max that you’re not arguing with him about it. “Congrats, Champ.”

You don't fly with him to Monaco. You don't fly with the team either. Instead, you fly to Texas immediately straight from Abu Dhabi. Max calls you once in the middle of break to greet you happy holidays and you mail him his gift—a clay keychain figure of him. He adds it to his keys, sitting right next to the beaded keychain you gave him back in 2020 and a bottle opener keychain in 2021.

2023

“Should I break up with Kelly?”

Your head snaps up at a speed that should be considered a hazard, stunned. You give Max a look that can be translated as: Did the g-force finally catch up to your brain?

“What prompted this?” you question, slowly setting Max’s laptop aside. You’re working on fixing his laptop’s wifi connection while he’s getting his makeup done for the Heineken ad filming. Once the makeup artist deemed him done and left the room, he immediately took the chance to ask the question.

“Nothing,” he lies.

“I’ll throw away your laptop if you don't tell me the truth,” you threaten.

“It's just—” Max pauses. His mouth feels dry. He licks his lips before continuing, “It’s just… I don't know how to explain it. It feels like I don't love Kelly anymore.”

I think I love you, [Name].

“Aight,” you grab a monoblock chair and drag it until it's right beside Max’s chair and plop your ass down. You sigh deeply before your face schools into complete seriousness. “Can't believe I’m the one givin’ you this talk. Uh, Max, you see, in a relationship, you typically experience this period called the honeymoon phase.”

Max nods slowly. He doesn't know where you're trying to get at but he clings on each word that leaves your mouth.

“The honeymoon phase can last anywhere from months to years and when it's done, the strong feelings and infatuation you have for Kelly decreases and that's natural. This is the stage where your bond with Kelly is strengthened,” you explain. “It's not all sunshine and rainbows. It can get boring. But the love is still there. It's just…well, less intense than before.”

He wants to ask if this happened to you and Leo as well, but he bites his tongue and says a different thing instead, “You give advice like a relationship guru.”

“Baby, I have a long list of ex-lovers. Kelly’s your first girlfriend. You don't have a say.”

Your birthday is near. Daniel shares to Max that he’s buying you a new ball cap this year, signed by your favorite professional billiard player. Max needs to give you something better.

He thinks about the things you like. He makes a list. It's a short one.

Beer

A spot in the engineering team.

Your family

He cannot give number three. He cannot give what you already have. He can give you number two but he doesn't want to. He doesn't want you to be anything other than his manager. He can give you number one but it'll be very lame of him if he gives you beer for your birthday. What is better than Daniel’s gift? What would you like more than a ballcap?

Max calls his sister that evening.

“Shoes,” she says. “Oh wait, that's a little hard. You might get her shoe size wrong.”

“She’s size 7. In Euro, 37,” Max states a little too quickly and a little too sure.

“How did you know her shoe size?” Victoria wonders.

“I don't know. I just watch her feet?”

“So, you estimated her shoe size by watching her feet like a creep?”

“I watch her feet a normal amount, Victoria,” Max insists.

“Max, I can't even tell my husband’s shoe size even if I stare at his feet for hours.”

“Maybe you just suck at estimating measurements.”

Max ends up getting the shoes with Victoria’s help. Victoria gets too irritated with him midway because he is too indecisive. He thinks all the shoes that’s displayed do not suit you.

It's not even this difficult when he’s picking shoes to give Kelly. Normally, he just asks the saleswoman to show him the most expensive or the latest in their stock and he buys it, instructs the storespeople to wrap it up and make sure the brand shows because Kelly likes it when the brand is big and bright and attention-grabbing.

“If you think nothing’s pretty enough then go get a custom made shoe,” she advises and then sighs in exasperation. Victoria shakes her head at him. It's not supposed to be a serious suggestion but Max takes it to heart.

Instead of black, Max goes for white. You rarely go in white clothing but when you do, you become so beautiful that Max has to stop himself from kneeling down in front of you and risking everything.

It has pearls and diamonds and satin. All beautiful things that reminded Max of you. Max wants, no, needs to see you put them on. He’s the one who puts it in a box. White-colored with peach stickers and a peach-colored ribbon.

Max plans to give them to you after he wins the Miami Grand Prix. But your family arrives just as he’s about to retrieve it from his driver’s room.

Max meets your family. A family that consists of happy parents and three brothers. You are your family’s unica hija.

Julio [Last Name], your father, is a big man and his accent is thicker than yours and he doesn't call you by your name, only the most affectionate-sounding mija. He reminds Max of a giant teddy bear. A giant teddy bear who crushes rocks for a living.

Your mother, on the other hand, is a stern-looking woman. Sally, her name was. She’s short, compared to you and her sons and her husband.

You have three brothers. One older—you call him Damiano. Two younger—Rafael and Dominic. You are more your mother than your father, Max notices. Appearance-wise anyway. Damiano, too. Sharp-looking, both of you. Your sharpness makes you look charming whereas your Damiano’s sharpness makes him look intimidating. Your two younger brothers are carbon copies of your father, a little round and with kinder looking features.

“Papa, Mama, Bro one, two, and three, this is Max,” you introduce him, smiling widely and you're doing that smile where you’re showing too much gums and your eyes are shaped like crescents. Happiness looks good on you.

He lets out an oof sound when your father engulfs him in a hug. Max hears you exclaim: “Papa!”

Max laughs and waves his hand to tell you that the hug is fine and is very much welcomed.

“Congratulations, Maxwell!” Julio claps Max’s shoulders.

“Papa, please,” you shake your head at your father’s antics. “It's just Max.”

“Ya want to join us for [Name]’s birthday?” Julio invites. Max catches your eyes. You mouth a no but Max shrugs and says, “Sure.”

Max joins the family dinner. It's held in a Mexican restaurant somewhere downtown. Originally, your family reserved a table for ten. But Max has gone ahead and reserved the entire restaurant by paying upfront. You slap Max’s hand but Max laughs and says, “Happy Birthday [Name].”

Over dinner, Maxs learns that Rafael, Dominic, and Damiano are the biggest motosport fans so they all talk about Formula One and occasionally MotoGP. He finds out that they're a big fan of Marc Marquéz. Max tells them that he knows Marc personally and shares his experiences with the man. He promises to send them the man’s signatures. You tell him that he doesn't have to. He tells you that it's his pleasure.

Max listens in attentively as Julio narrates his amazing tales about his work experience. You laugh at the surprised Pikachu face Max makes when Julio is telling the entire table about the creepy call he responded to just the other month. You and your mother occasionally join in on the conversation but are more comfortable with listening to the boys.

Later, you stand up to excuse yourself to go to the bathroom. Max stands from the table five minutes after you leave. He’s drunk too much soda so now he needs to take a piss.

“Are you okay?” Max asks as he catches you reapplying a layer of lipstick—a shade of nude rose—on the sink in front of the washroom.

You hold the lipstick in one hand but the other is holding your right arm, palm covering the word MANAGER printed on the sleeve of your Red Bull polo shirt like it's something to be ashamed about.

“Yeah.” A lie.

The rest of the night goes the way Max wants it. He almost wishes it won't end.

Kelly waits for him in his hotel room. She gives him a gift for winning P1. The shoe box in Max’s backpack remains untouched.

He’s got every country except Singapore, Saudi, and Azerbaijan under his belt. His third WDC is secure even if he loses Abu Dhabi, but Max is selfish. He still wants a P1 in Abu Dhabi so he fights and fights until no one can catch up because of how fast he was.

Kelly comes with him this time to watch him race and support him because it's the final race of the season and she also knows that Max is going to win WDC this year. P is over at her father right now so it's just the two of them.

“Babe!” Max looks up from his laptop. Kelly comes running in and Max’s eyes widened, horrified, when she sees that Kelly is holding it.

The white shoes.

Max stands abruptly. The laptop in his lap falls to the floor and shatters. He curses and crouches down to pick it up and save what he can save. When he looks up, Kelly is sitting on the bed now and is trying the shoes on. Max shoves the damaged laptop aside and strides towards her. He’ll deal with the laptop later.

“That's not—”

“Oh?” Kelly’s face morphs in confusion. “It doesn't fit.”

Kelly chuckles yet it sounds empty and dread pools in Max’s stomach.

“You bought me shoes many times already. There’s no way you’ll get my shoe size wrong.”

Max takes the shoes from her hand quickly and he puts them back carefully in the box.

“That's not for me,” Kelly states.

“It’s not for you,” Max echoes.

“Then who’s it for, Babe?”

Max doesn't answer. Instead, he avoids her gaze.

“Max Emilian Verstappen, who’s the shoes for?” Kelly is seething now.

For the first time in their two nearly three year long relationship, Max and Kelly get into a screaming argument. They get into arguments as all couples do, but never ones with screaming and crying and too much anger in one room.

“I can't go on like this anymore,” Kelly cries. “I can't. I let it go when you made me wait because you celebrated her birthday with her family. I let it go when you made her that crochet bag. I let it go when you bought a billiard table and brought it into our home because she likes playing billiards—”

“I tried breaking up with you!” Max roars and he sees Kelly flinch. “And you told me not to. You used Penelope so I wouldn't break up with you—”

“Do not even say my daughter's name—”

“It's true!” Max throws his hands in the air like a man gone mad. “I told you in fucking July that I think I’m losing feelings for you! You told me to not break up with you because Penelope already thinks of me as her father and it’ll break her heart if I kick you out of my house! I am NOT her father, Kel, her father��s Daniil! You only want me because I can give you everything you want! Money, pride, and a fucking father figure for your child!”

Kelly strikes his cheek. Sharp, fast, and strong. Max remains still in shock and stares ahead.

Kelly has officially become the second person in this world who has raised a hand at Max.

“I hate you,” Kelly utters it with so much intensity. “I hate you. We’re done.”

She leaves quickly.

Max’s phone buzzes.

you: hey champ. race is on in an hour n a half. u good to go?

max: yeah

max: i’ll be there soon

you: i’ll wait for u

max: you always do

Max races with the guilt that he's a cheating asshole. His mother will not be proud of it once she learns that her son has dated a girl and idiotically realized that he’s in love with his manager halfway through the relationship.

Despite the emotional turmoil that swirling inside him, Max takes P1 and becomes a third-time WDC. He celebrates with the team. You excuse yourself, saying you have something important to do, and Max doesn't bother asking you to stay because he knows he’ll visit you in your hotel room later with a cold can of beer. It’s become your ritual now.

He drinks with Daniel, Yuki, and Checo. Five bottles in, he spills everything. He pukes. It tastes disgusting. His world turns into a hazy blur. You came to his rescue because that's what you always do.

Max is so dumb for taking so long in realizing that he's in love with you. It's always been you. You and your dumb considerate attitude and your snarky personality and your crude mouth. He never realized how horrifyingly enormous his desire for you is until its right there in front of him with its mouth wide open, ready to swallow him whole.

you: landed

you: thanks for the jet

you: talk soon gotta get to papa 1st

max: ok

max: stay safe

max: your dad will be alright dont worry

you: i hope so

It has been seven days since the Abu Dhabi Grand Prix, three days since you left Monaco, two days since your last conversation in Instagram, and a day before Max flies to Belgium to celebrate the holidays with his mother and sister and his sister’s family.

max: are you okay?

max: just landed in belgium

max: mum and vic says hi

max: hey it's been a week now

max: is your dad okay?

max: im worried

max: call me soon please

max: happy holidays

max: or merry christmas

max: whatever you celebrate there in america

max: yeah i greeted a little too early

max: you didn't answer my call

max: im friends with logan now by the way

max: we talk at times

max: im trying to get him into sim racing

max: maybe it'll help him improve

max: happy holidays

max: i called your cell

max: you know christian just told me something funny

max: he sent an email this morning with a list of candidates for my 2024 manager

max: he said you resigned

max: very funny

max: please tell me you didn't

#max verstappen x reader #f1 x reader #formula 1 #formula one #max verstappen #max verstappen x you #f1 imagines #manager!reader #mv33 x reader #mv1 #mv1 x reader #mv33

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kingthunder · 2 months

Text

I saw a few of those "bg3 characters driving a car" headcanons and decided to do one myself for fun.

Lae'zel: She learned how to drive on the opposite side of the road from everyone else and her instincts are all wrong for her current location, but back home she's an excellent driver with a spotless driving record. She actually follows the service schedule in the car manual. She gets incensed at people who don't maintain their vehicle properly or who disobey road rules. Her car is immaculately clean. She would love to speed a motorcycle down one of those desert highways with no speed limit, but she's never gotten the opportunity and knows it's too reckless besides. But she wants to.

Karlach: She's had a motorcycle for ages and is a skilled if aggressive driver. However, she only recently learned how to drive a car. She is very enthusiastic about it and always volunteers to drive even though she's not very good yet. She's one of those people that do driving "pranks" like swerving back and forth to make people shriek/laugh, or doing "3, 2, 1 BLASTOFF" and gunning it. Could easily be provoked into an impromptu street race. Drives way too far on empty or with the check engine light on.

Shadowheart: Drives stick so that no one else can drive her car. It's a beat up old station wagon with a busted tail light and looks like shit on the outside, but inside she turned it into a goth mobile with like black velvet seat covers and stuff. She named the car but she won't tell you what. She has an air freshener hanging from the rear view mirror that smells like night orchids. She's a perfectly good boring driver with nothing to note about it UNTIL one day a cop tries to pull her over for her busted tail light and she hits the gas and pulls out all these street racing moves that you had no idea she was capable of and shakes the cop. She'll let you pick the music but if she doesn't like it her silent disapproval is so withering that you voluntarily change it to something she does like.

Astarion: Never got a driver's license and isn't about to get one now. Passenger princess who likes to control the radio but his taste in music sucks. He makes funny mean comments about other drivers and pedestrians. He'll complain if you ask him to fill the gas tank but he'll do it; you're paying for it, though. Actually pretty fun to go on a road trip with because he doesn't care about stuff like "making good time" and he's up for stopping anywhere that looks like it might be entertaining.

Gale: Never got a driver's license because he was always too busy with his studies to care and his mom drove him around and/or did all his errands for him anyway. He's real good at maps though and likes to be helpful by being the navigator. He's the smartest man in the world but he's completely stymied by a gas pump; you're better off pumping the gas yourself and sending him into the gas station for snacks. He always manages to conjure a full meal out of convenience food, somehow, and he's really good at feeding you while you drive.

Wyll: He saved up and bought his own fixer-upper car after getting kicked out of the house as a teenager. Good driver in general. People always think he would make a good designated driver, but actually he likes drinking socially and will politely decline requests to be the DD unless there's no one else available. Sometimes when he's having a bad day he blasts music really loud and finds a deserted area to just fuckin tear ass down as fast as he can go (he'll only do this alone and doesn't tell anyone about it). Never lets you pay for gas even if you offer. Will pick up hitchhikers.

Halsin: Has been driving the same car since 1973. Drives that specific car really well. If you gave him a modern car he would have no idea what anything on the dashboard does. Honestly, he prefers to walk or bike anyway.

Jaheira: Has a fuck-off huge SUV full of empty cans and wrappers from her kids. Absolute maniac of a driver who tailgates and speeds with no regard for road signs or lane markings. She is going to GET where she is GOING and gods help you if you get in the way.

Minsc: Failed the driving test three times and just gets rides from Jaheira. This does not bother him in the slightest. He tells you that Boo can drive vehicles you've never even heard of.

Minthara: Has run someone over on purpose.

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chlorinecake · 2 months

Note

I was thinking about illegalracer!jungwon as your bf. He takes you for late night rides on his motorcycle that finish with him fucking u on his place, it's like a normal routine now...

Imagine Illegal Racer Jungwon…

Who had a frisky side since the day you met him, living for the thrill of the night and earning himself a name of admiration and infamy on the streets as an underground racer…

Illegal racer Jungwon who turned every road into his personal racetrack, drowning out his thoughts with the roaring pulse of his motorbike engine.

Illegal racer Jungwon who never expected you to become a part of this side of his world, but enjoyed having you around regardless… internally smirking at the startled look on your face whenever his wheels took off in a race, or the labored breaths you’d let out once he returned to greet you with a victory kiss in front of every one watching.

Illegal racer Jungwon who made you sit on the back of his bike one day, inviting you to fully understand his love for the wild life, and you’ve been hooked ever since.

“If you hang on tight enough, I might reward you with something once we get to my place,” he’d say, revving the engine but refusing to take off until your arms were wrapped securely around his waist, nearby neon lights blurring into both your peripheral visions as the smoky wind whipped through your exposed hair.

Illegal Racer Jungwon whose eyes sparkled like onyx as these late night joy rides became a part of your normal routine, adoring how you learned to trust him when he’d speed down narrow alleyways, or come a mere centimeter from colliding into destruction.

You two had even been chased by the police before, but Jungwon always had a way of outrunning them, especially when he had a certain goal in mind to get you alone with him for the night…

Illegal racer Jungwon who with every harsh drift, loved it when you held onto him tighter, stealing kisses at red lights as silver rain painted the streets and your dewy leather jackets.

Illegal racer Jungwon who would park his motorbike under a tree, helping you take your helmet off with his protective hand at your hips, finger playfully linking in the hoops of your jeans as he buried his face in your neck, kissing you desperately in between whispering how badly he had missed you…

Illegal racer Jungwon who usually left the back door to your little secret place unlocked, mostly because it was reserved for one thing and one thing only.

Illegal racer Jungwon who always looked especially attractive in his damp biker suit, watching with lust-ridden eyes as you stripped him of his leather layers to grant you better access to his broad shoulders.

“Love it when I take you out just so I can fuck you, huh?,” he teased, almost cooing at the way you rushed to take off his belt.

Illegal racer Jungwon whose sultry voice tantalized your ears whenever he spoke dirty to you, taking your face in his free hand to force your glossy eyes back on him.

“That’s my good girl- shit… keep fucking yourself on my cock,” he’d grunt in between having you bounce in his lap, sounds of skin against skin filling the room, “does it feel good, baby?… hmm?”

“Feels s-so good, Wonie,” you hummed with a broken moan, throwing your head back as he continued guiding your hips, “gonna come… f-fuck- gonna come so hard for you, baby…”

Illegal racer Jungwon who let his eyes roll in the back of his head every time you clenched around him, his pouty mouth leaning forward to suck, bite, and lick on your skin anywhere he could.

Illegal racer Jungwon who would always finish on your stomach because he never remembered to bring a condom, once again, enjoying the subtle risk of potentially forgetting to pull out of you.

Illegal racer Jungwon whose soft “I love you’s” after a reckless night never failed to make your heart flutter, taking a short cut to bring you back home even if it was past two in the morning.

Illegal racer Jungwon who liked kissing you goodnight at your doorstep on nights like this, his hand playfully smacking your ass as he whispered in the cool air, “You better call me first thing in the morning, alright?”

Illegal racer Jungwon who chuckled to himself whenever you waved at him like he wasn’t the guy you fucked every night, driving off into the distance with his final thoughts being your pretty face, a flushed red hue from the love he made to you...

took me forever and a day to answer this ask (my sincerest apologies, anon), but hopefully you get to read it sometime soon !!

𝐩𝐞𝐫𝐦 𝐭𝐚𝐠𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭 ( 𝐨𝐩𝐞𝐧 💌 ) @squoxle @wonbinisbabygurl @ashgonedash @yourmomscuntis2tighy @addictedtohobi @ot7sevenlvr + the link to my masterlist ~

#enhypen #enhypen ff #jungwon smut #yang jungwon #jungwon ff #jungwon hard thoughts #jungwon hard hours #jungwon x reader #jungwon imagines #enhypen smut #enha smut #enhypen hard hours #enhypen hard thoughts #enhypen hard headcanons

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disneyprincemuke · 7 months

Text

the new hires * fem!driver

still skeptical about roaming by herself on a race weekend, oscar and logan pick her up from her garage before media commitments

pairings: oscar piastri x fem!driver, logan sargeant x fem!driver, sebastian vettel x fem!driver

warnings: nothing~

notes: i am really liking this so far! feel free to send in requests for this series and/or in general! requests are always open~ i hope you guys enjoy this hehe

(series masterlist) | (📂 the rookie season)

she leans back on her race car, arms folded over her chest as she chews on the inside of her cheek. she stares at the concrete floor blankly, wondering when she get swept away from the garage.

the day has barely started. the garage only had a few engineers roaming around, and sebastian is absolutely nowhere to be found. which is why she's decided to hide in the comfort of her own garage.

oscar had texted her when she was making her way to the paddocks that he would pick her up when it was time for media commitments. but it's been 20 minutes since the agreed-upon time, and sebastian has now been kidnapped by other people for his big-boy meetings.

meetings that didn't involve her right now.

she can't handle the stares when she walks around the paddock, so she simply doesn't go anywhere on her own. she hushed whispers and judgemental stares always manage to get to her.

"oi!" a familiar accent catches her off guard. she stands up straight and turns towards the exit of the garage, finding the two taller boys waving her towards them.

"we're gonna be late, let's go," logan laughs, hurrying her to get to them. "we can't be late — we're the new hires."

“you’re the new hires,” oscar mutters, pointing between the two as he sucks in a sharp breath. “i was here last here.”

"then you shouldn't have taken so long to pick me up," she mutters. she jogs over to the two other rookies and smiles widely. "thanks for picking me up, though."

"you wouldn't have made it there on your own otherwise," oscar shrugs. he pulls her in for a side hug and a kiss to the crown of her head. “what’s a 2023 rookie round-up video for if it’s just logan and i?”

“but it wouldn’t wind up to that because you picked me up,” she states, narrowing her eyes down into a judgemental stare. “duh?”

when he pulls away, she hops over to logan and greets him with a hug. he gives her a kiss on the cheek before they start walking around the lane of garages to get to the paddocks.

"so, did you finally buy your first car over the break, (y/n)?" oscar begins as he shoves his phone into his pocket. he leans forward slightly to get a look at her face with a raise of his eyebrow. "don't tell me you haven't."

logan turns his head to the side, glancing at the girl walking next to him. "by the looks of it, she hasn't."

"well, you guys keep saying i should get a supercar," she explains, lifting her hands up in the air, "but i just want a functioning car that i shouldn't have to overthink in while i'm driving."

which is exactly why she's put off buying her car for months. now that she's a somewhat prominent public figure, everyone's been telling her she should get a car that speaks for her career.

but she doesn't want an expensive car that she has to truly overthink. she doesn't need a car that would stress her out if she were to climb a curb or hit a wall.

think how expensive that would be for her.

not to say that she's a bad driver. she just prefers an easy car.

"dude, you've been talking about that car for years!" oscar throws his head back, rolling his eyes before throwing a glare her way. "you can't tell me we listened to all your yapping about a milestone car when you get into formula 1 only for you to not... get one."

"give it time," she scowls, waving oscar off.

"well, it at least better be a cute car," logan mutters with a scoff. "or else i'd be quite disappointed i waited this long for you to get a car that isn't you."

"i don't need a car, anyway," she answers breathily. "you guys drive me around plenty. my license is only good for the track, it seems."

“we won’t be around forever to drive you around. we’re not together all the time,” logan scoffs. he lifts his arm up and rests it on her shoulder as they walk.

“well, when you do happen to be around, you will,” she scoffed, pushing his arm off her shoulder. “and stop doing that — just your arm is heavy enough!”

“i know, that’s why it was on your shoulder.”

“logan!”

“what?”

“knock it off,” oscar scoffs, pushing himself between them. “you’ll attract the cameras if you’re going to be like.” he turns to her. “do you want that?”

she quickly shuts her mouth and stands a little straighter. she looks straight ahead and presses her lips together. “you got me there.”

“i know,” oscar mutters, glaring at her.

“hey, you’re not kidnapping my driver, are you?” sebastian’s voice halts their footsteps, making them turn around at the same time comically. “i need her for the race on sunday.”

she scowls at her mentor. “yes, cause i��m walking with them in the paddocks unwillingly.” she puts a hand on her chest and the other on her forehead. she runs over to sebastian, faking a sob. “my knight in shining armour, thank you for saving me from these bad bad men!”

“hey!” logan grips her wrist before she can get any further. “we’re going to be late!”

sebastian raises an eyebrow. he looks confused at first but it slowly carves into realisation why the three of them are out and about together. “oh. f1 media commitments?”

“official crew and all,” oscar shrugs with a small smile. his eyes follow logan and her, gently exhanging smacks on each other’s arms as they hurl insults at one another.

“oh, alright,” sebastian laughs before briefly turning away from them. “have her back in my garage on time! with no scratches, preferably. we have a meeting with the team later.”

“i’ll try, but she keeps hitting me!” logan answers, landing a firm shove on her shoulder.

she’s barely moved, only taking a small step back to regain her balance. she gasps at his action, “don’t make me bite you.”

“okay, cut it out,” oscar laughs. he walks away, leaving the two behind. which would be a problem seeing that they don’t actually know where the filming setup is. “i’m leaving.”

“see, he left us because you’re being annoying,” she grumbles, landing one last hit on logan’s shoulder. she jogs to catch up with oscar, who has walked away quite a fair bit from them.

“i’m only taking inspiration from you.”

“oh, shut up.”

taglist: @wcnorris @treehouse-mouse (comment to be added)

#oscar piastri x reader #logan sargeant x reader #sebastian vettel x reader #fem!driver #female driver #f1 fem!driver #formula 1 fanfic #f1 fanfic #f1 fanfiction #formula 1 fanfiction #disneyprincemuke #disneyprincemuke imagine #disneyprincemuke imagines #f1 x reader #disneyprincemuke f1

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baby-dr1ver · 8 months

Text

kinktober <3

oral

lando x fem!reader

warnings: smut!, male and female receiving, use of female gen., swearing?

Recieveing:

It all started after Silverstone. He’d jumped out of his car, threw off his helmut and held it up to the sky. The pure confidence, cockiness and heat, coming off him was toxic. And you were begging for more. You watched him on the podium steps, licking the sweat from his top lip, spraying champagne over his friends beside him. A dull ache started to form, an unexplainable feeling stirring inside of you.

You met him halfway in the garage, just as his engineers were packing away the car. He held your cheeks delicately and kissed you with passion, Lando had always loved slow and filthy kisses. Ones where he could feel your bodies reaction, listen to the little gasps and whines you let out, the way you hold onto him a little tighter.

You could hear his engineers let out whistles and claps at the clear display of affection. You both pulled away, red faced, but happy none the less. You took him by the collar of his racing suit, and pulled him down a random hallway. “Baby, what has gotten into you?” He smirked as he watched you unzip his suit in a hurry. “Hopefully you in my mouth soon.”

You got down on your knees, pulling his pants and underwear with you. You wasted no time in getting your hands around him, his head thumped against the wall, letting himself be taken care of for a change.

“Fuck y/n, if this is what happens when I get a podium, I should do it more often.” Lando let out a strangled moan right after.

“Couldn’t help it,” You leaned forward and kissed his tip a few times.” looked so fucking hot up there, a fucking podium at your home race.” You finally took him in your mouth and he preened. He pulled your hair away from your face and formed a pony tail.

One hand held his thigh for balance, and the other reached up to touch is balls. You knew that was his weakness, that combined with a little suction on the tip? Feral.

He started tugging on your hair, pulling you every which way to satisfy him. Drool and precum spilled out your mouth and down your chin, you looked up at his face and saw the most gorgeous sight. Landos eyes were squeezed shut, lips parted to let out quiet moans, his lean torso jutted out to get closer to you. You pulled away to speak, “C’mon Lando, cum f’me” You sucked on his tip hard and you could feel his balls draw up and the gasping moans he was letting out-he was gonna blow.

“Ah fuck- baby, oh my god.” You watched his eyes roll back as he came in your mouth. You grinned at the salty substance in your mouth before swallowing. You kissed his tip one last time before tucking him back in his pants and standing up. Once he caught his breath, he switched positions and had you against the wall. But, just when things were starting to get fun, “Lando? Mate, you’ve got media duties, wrap it up please. Oh god no wait-not like that!”

Giving:

“Lando wait-fuck slow down” You tried to get your barrings as Lando pushed you onto the bed and started stripping you of your clothes. “Can’t sweetheart,” he kissed the freckles and stretch marks on your stomach, pushing your dress up to reveal more skin and the pretty papaya underwear he all but ripped off. “Looked so good tonight, such an amazing girlfriend to put together a party just for me.” He lifted your legs over his shoulders, trailing kisses over your thighs, letting his hands wander up your body to play with your boobs. “Baby, it’s your birthday shit-” He let one finger drag through your slick, gathering it at your clit. “shouldn’t I be the one to give you a-a gift?”

He pushed two fingers up so that sat on either side of your clit. He wriggled them left to right, left to right, so it moved side to side. You whined and grabbed his wrist to slow him down, or this night would end very quickly.

He dismissed your question as he leaned down to kiss the crease of your thigh, letting his nose trail to the top of your pussy. He inhaled and his eyes rolled back for a second. “You okay with this?” He mumbled as he pressed himself against you. You nodded and gasped as you felt his fingers still playing with you. “I need words my love.”

You huffed but spoke up, “yes please Lando, need it so bad.” You reached down to tug on his silky curls. He dove in, like a man starved, ate you like it was his last meal he’d ever have.

He was everywhere, fucking you with his tongue, teasing your clit by licking everything but it. He eventually gave in to your pleas and let the tip of his tongue glide over your button.

“Jesus baby, how do you taste so fucking good every time.” You gripped into his hair harder as your hips bucked in time with his tongue.

“Lanod please, please please please I need it so bad, please let me cum.” He smirked. Lando almost pulled away just to be an asshole but, he decided the need to make you cum tonight over ruled that. “C’mon then pretty girl, give me what I want.” He sucked your clit harshly and suddenly entered two of his thick fingers. You couldn’t keep still at that point, hips bucking, legs flailing.

His hand found yours, interlaced them and gave your hand a squeeze, giving you the encouragement you needed to cum. You saw stars-no more than that. Fireworks, a forest fire, love. Nothing but love as Lando looked up into your eyes, letting you come down peacefully, whispering words of praise and adoration.

#formula one #lando norris x reader #lando norris x y/n #lando norris x female reader #lando norris smut #lando norris x you #formula one imagine #lando norris imagine

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marlenesluv · 8 months

Text

Stress Relief. (OP)

summary: oscar has had a rough day at the track, but he comes home to his girlfriend to help him destress.

pairing: oscar piastri x fem!reader (dating)

warnings: smut, 18+ only, mdni!, oral (fem!receiving), fingering

note: first smut on here! kinda random but i just had a thought and wanted to make a little thing blurb. i know it's kinda short, i'll write something else soon with more plot, lol. i hope it's decent :/

masterlist here -> masterlist link

^ check my list for all posts! ^

Qualifying day was always something that you attended. Showing up with Oscar, holding hands through the paddock, talking with his engineers, but you had an unfortunate amount of work to get done. Being a personal assistant for the head of a business firm was fun, in theory.

Your phone was going off every five minutes with emails, and texts, calls, and reminders. Your laptop glued to your side, as well as your ipad, and today was the worst it had been in months.

Big projects coming up and documents had to be read over, slides gone through, speeches double- no, triple checked, and emails responded to the second they came through.

Obviously, Oscar was a little bummed that you couldn’t make it, but work was first, and he had no problem attending alone, as long as he got to see you when it was over.

And he did. Unfortunately, the circumstances sucked. You weren’t able to have the tv on the race, you were mostly on facetimes with people, and you had to be in your office. So you were unable to see how his car had completely shit out. Brakes broken and balance off, as well as a loose tire, he was out fast. Meaning he would start at the back on race day.

“Y/N?” Oscar called out, about to call you again when he saw you. You. Wearing his favorite hoodie, eating strawberries, and scrolling through the Formula 1 app for updates.

He came over to the sofa, making you look up and part your lips to talk, but no words came out. Defeated, that was the only word that came to mind when you looked at your boyfriend. And what was worse? Lando had placed p2 in qualifying, meaning his press after sucked.

“Hey…” You frowned and greeted him back, not knowing his mind right now. Upset, yes, but you didn’t know if he wanted a kiss, a hug, or-

Your mind went numb as he pulled your bowl away, as well as your phone, turning it off and placing it on the charger on the side table. Blinking up at him, he bit his bottom lip as his eyes got a little darker.

“I’m sorry, Osc. Do you want me to-“ He cut you off with a kiss before you could even finish your sentence. Gasping into the kiss, he slid his tongue in your mouth.

You grabbed his hair, pulling him closer just as he broke away and smiled at your pout.

He got down on his knees in-front of you, in-front of the couch, “It’s okay, princess. Just relax, ok?” Oscar pulled your shorts down, as you nodded, releasing a deep breath.

Slowly, he lowered his lips, softly kissing your thighs as you let out soft moans that were barely audible. His kisses traveled up, closer to your core where you needed him most.

Shallow breaths filled the room as he traced his finger over your underwear, on top of your clit. "Please, Oscar." You whined, moving your hips closer to him.

The way the sunset glow was shining on his face made you all the more needy for him. He knew this, smiling at you through hooded eyes as he pulled your underwear down with his fingers, tossing them on the floor.

"Are you going to be good for me tonight, doll?" His accent seemed more prominent when he was turned on, which just made you moan out and buck your hips.

"Are you?" He asked again, fingers tracing patterns on your inner thighs.

"Yes, please. I need you..." Your eyes welled up a bit, desperate for his touch.

"You need me? Hm, well, if you need me-" Cutting himself off, he placed a kiss to your clit.

His hands held your hips down as he continued to place sporadic kisses to your core. If you let him, he would stay down there for hours, maybe even days. You never failed to make him feel safe and happy. All he needed was you.

Your hands traveled down once more, grabbing his hair and pulling him closer. Letting out a moan on your clit, you jerked, feeling the vibrations at what seemed to be a heightened feeling.

He started to kitten lick, making you moan louder and throw your head back. Never wanting to lose eye contact, he tugged your hand that was on his hair, making your look down.

Raising his head, he spoke, "Eyes on me, beautiful, or you don't get to cum."

This gained your attention, now holding eye contact as he continued his ministrations. He boldly licked down to your hole, and back up before adding two fingers to the mix.

His fingers probed and eventually sunk in, making you moan out and clench around him. Oscar had no intention of actually fucking you tonight. All he wanted was to make you cum from his tongue and fingers, proving to himself, and you, that he was better than his p18 in qualifying. Your pleasure was above all else in his mind.

As your high was in sight, your stomach clenched, which he noticed straight away. His fingers still moved in and out at a fast pace, occasionally blowing cold air on your clit to add extra stimulation.

"Oscar- I'm gonna-" You moaned, unable to finish your sentence.

"I know, doll. It's okay, let go for me." He soothed, never letting up as his tongue went back to your clit.

When you reached your high, your hands grabbed the couch cushions and your toes curled.

Oscar helped you ride out your high, slowly licking and rubbing your calves as he pulled back. Wiping his chin with the back of his hand and sucking his fingers clean, he got up and wen to the bathroom.

Your eyes could barely stay awake as you felt a warm wash cloth on your legs and core, wiping you down and making sure you were clean. He then put a clean pair of his boxers on you and a new pair for him as well.

Oscar sat down beside you and pulled you to lay down on his chest on the couch, pulling a blanket over you two.

"Thank you, Osc. Don't you want me to-" He stopped you with a kiss, "I'm okay, tomorrow maybe. Lets just cuddle. Please."

You could tell he was exhausted from his day, so you agreed, nestling your head in his neck as he turned the television back onto your show. He kissed your head as you both drifted off to sleep.

No matter how much racing could frustrate him, he could always count on you to help him destress.

#formula 1 #f1 #formula one #oscar piastri #oscar piastri smut #oscar piastri x you #oscar piastri x reader #oscar piastri x y/n #f1 smut #smut #formula 1 smut #mclaren smut #mclaren #op81 #op81 smut

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vamossainz55 · 11 months

Text

let's just drive (charles leclerc x reader)

inspired by a request from an anon: would you like to write one for Charles where he can't drive his normal car (for whatever reason), so he asks the reader for help, but she's kind of nervous and thinks there will be some judging? a/n: i took the liberty of making her scared she'll crash, i hope that's okay. i just feel like it fit the prompt better (+ there's something that I don't like about this but idky- so my sincere apologies if you also feel it)

“Here you go,” Charles says, casually dropping the keys in your hand before giving your cheek a kiss. You’re not sure if he doesn’t notice the way all your blood has drained out of your face, or if he’s choosing to ignore it because he doesn’t mention it. Instead he circles around the car to go into the passenger seat.

He fumbles a bit with the door before closing it, having to awkwardly reach over with his left arm to pull the seat belt from the right. He struggles over the cast that’s wrapped around his arm, and for a second you feel sorry for him, but all of this goes away the moment he looks over at you expectantly.

“Come on,” He says. You notice the smile he attempts to fight back, the way he sucks his bottom lip between his teeth and looks away. So he did notice I look nervous, you think to yourself. Dickhead.

Passenger princess. That is what all your friends had decided to call you once you had started dating your boyfriend. It had been an off-handed joke at first, one that was pegged because of your boyfriend’s career, but here you were almost two years into your relationship and the nickname had stuck.

Over the last two years you found yourself behind the wheel less and less, whilst finding more and more comfort in riding shotgun. It’s not that you hated driving, far from that, but he just loved it, offering to take you wherever you needed to go.

That is exactly why the sight of his 488 Pista is making you feel sick, extremely sick.

Regardless of your nerves, you somehow find yourself in the driver’s seat, pulling the seat forward to adjust for your own height. Somehow the car feels even scarier from the inside and you wonder whether calling an uber could be a choice.

“Did you really have to break your arm this week?” You ask as you turn the key. Of course you’re joking, well kind of. You just didn’t understand why you were the one who had to drive. The car roars as soon as the engine is on, and you try not to think how much power it actually has. You can feel your boyfriend’s eyes on you, amused by your whole ordeal.

Your hands are clammy as you hold the steering wheel, looking into the wing mirror. You’re about to change gears, eyes shifting back to the rearview mirror. Reverse, I can do it, you think. There’s a small second of silence right when you’re about to step on the clutch and you can practically feel Charles’ eyes burning into you.

The car reverses, only for a moment before it rocks back forward. You instantly wince, raising your shoulders to your face to wait for the impact that never comes. You hear a snicker from next to you and you exhale a breath you didn’t even realize you were holding.

“You cannot be staring at me like that!” You say, cheeks flushed red, looking at him. Charles only continues to look at you, a smile playing on his lips as he shakes his head. He reaches over to hold your arm, thumb slowly rubbing at your skin. The touch sends a shiver down your spine.

“You’re acting like you don’t drive when I’m off racing.” Charles laughs in between his words, letting out a soft wheeze.

“Yeah- I drive my car. Not a ferrari.” You murmur, trying your best to let the heat leave your cheeks.

“You’re not going to crash it you know?”

“But what if I do?” Your question comes out high pitched and whiny, a stark contrast to how relaxed and laid back Charles seemed. He sucks a sharp breath between his teeth before letting it out with a shake of his head and a smile on his lips.

“First off all- you won’t,” He says as he reaches to turn off the car before reaching for your hand. “And second of all, so what if you do?” Charles asks, snorting at the shocked expression you give him.

“I’m sorry- are we forgetting how much your car costs?” You try to pull your hand away, wanting to prove your point about how stressed you actually are. He doesn’t let you though, only giving your clammy hand a squeeze.

“Actually, I don’t know how much it costs,” Charles says matter-of-factly. You can only groan, because of course Charles Leclerc does not know how much his Ferrari costs.

“Over two hundred thousand euros Charles.” His brow raises slightly, showing slight surprise and you’re a bit relieved by it, hoping that it would be enough for the idea of you driving to stray away. It doesn’t seem to work in your favor though.

“Wait- did you google how much my car costs before this?”

“How could I not?” Charles is back to laughing again, shaking his head in amusement. =

“Amour, it is going to be okay,” Charles promises. “I trust you.” His words are enough to get your shoulders to relax a bit, and for you to take a deep breath.

“But you love your car so much- what if anything happens?” You watch the way he brings your hand to his face, leaning down to pepper kisses into your knuckles. It helps in relaxing you, allowing you to let out a soft breath.

“Come on now, I love my car, but- I love you more.” He smiles at you as he gently puts your hand back down, but you don’t give in, only continuing to look at him with your lips pulled down into a pout. “If you crash it- which I am not saying you will, I won’t be mad. I’m the one that asked you to drive it,” Your silence fills the car and he squeezes your hand again to catch your attention. “Hm?”

“Are you sure?” You ask and Charles only laughs, rolling his eyes before pecking your lips.

“I,” he says before giving you another kiss, “promise that,” and another, “I love you” and another, “more than my stupid car” he finishes, sealing the promise with one last kiss. He takes his time with this one, enjoying the way your lips had curved up into a small smile. Bingo.

“Now will you drive?” He claims victory when you nod in response, pulling away to lean back onto his seat. There’s a moment of silence as your fingers shadow to start the car, but another thought enters your mind.

“Can I have one more kiss?” He knows you’re stalling, and at this point you’ll both be more than twenty minutes late, but he smiles anyways.

“Of course,” He answers, coming closer again. Who’s to blame him though, he did love you most.

#charles leclerc #charles x reader #f1 x reader #f1 x you #drabble #f1 imagine #f1 drabble #charles leclerc imagine #charles leclerc x reader #charles leclerc x you #charles leclerc fic #charles leclerc fanfic #cl16 imagine #cl16 x reader

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dilemmaontwolegs · 5 months

Text

Not A Verstappen: Lights Out {4}

Pairing: Charles Leclerc x fem!driver!reader x Lando Norris Summary: The triple header is turbulent with some serious bad luck hitting your Monégasque man. Warnings: 18+ only, nsfw, fluff, angst, smut WC: 3k F1 Masterlist NAV: Sibling Rivalry One || Two || Three NAV: Gridlocked One || Two || Three || Four || Five || Six || Seven || Eight || Nine NAV: A New World One || Two || Three || Four || Five || Six || Seven || Eight || Nine || Ten NAV: Lights Out One || Two || Three || Four || Five

The Triple Header - Austin

Between the distraction of Lando and Charles arriving together, and Daniel making his grand return for Alpha Tauri, you were able to sneak into the paddock through the secondary staff entrance. You were sweating beneath the hoodie that swamped you but as soon as you were in the McLaren garage you took it off.

“This feels weird,” you murmured as you watched Lando get into his racing gear.

“It will probably take a while to get used to,” he said, kissing you as he reached for his balaclava. “But you heard what the doctors said, it’s a miracle we didn’t lose her with what happened. You know how hard the races are on our bodies.”

“I understand that, but it still feels weird. I don’t like missing out on things.” You sighed and opened the door for Jon who was waiting for Lando to start his warm up. “I’m going to check in on Charles. I love you.”

“Love you too.”

Though you could hide in Charles’ garage for the race there was nowhere to hide when Lando pulled into the third place parking spot. There was nothing that was going to stop you from waiting with the rest of his team and between your mother and his father, they kept you safe from the jostling engineers eager to clap their driver on the back.

Everything seemed to be going great and you had avoided all the media crews wanting to get a statement. You had to admit it was satisfying to watch Aston Martin struggle to pull 9th place for Lance and a DNF for Fernando so it was a good thing a microphone didn’t come close to you.

Everything was going great as you and Charles watched Lando take the podium before they both went to shower and change. Unfortunately word came that there had been two disqualifications. Charles seemed to have a sixth sense when bad news was coming and his smile dimmed before his engineer even relayed the information. Charles and Lewis were both disqualified.

Sinking into the couch in Lando’s room, he hung his head in his hands and sighed. The sound made your heart ache and you could feel all the pressure he was under in that heavy exhale. He was already concerned about how his points compared to his teammates but this would make the gap even closer and add to that worry.

“I’m sorry, babe,” you said as you sat beside him, lacing your fingers with his while Lando took his other hand.

“This sucks,” he groaned before looking at Lando. “At least you’re second place now.”

“Suppose,” he murmured. “Doesn’t feel like I earned it though.”

“You don’t know how much Lewis’ car could have been affected by the worn plank, it might have been a matter of tenths off the second without the proper weight,” you reminded him before biting your lip and looking at Charles. “No offence. It wasn’t your fault anyway, you’re the driver, it’s your mechanics who should be checking that the car meets the regs.”

“I know,” he murmured as rose to his feet. “I’m going to the pit then I’ll head back to the hotel.”

Lando had more media duties expected of him and he nodded his head towards Charles’s back. “Go with him, love, I’ll catch up after.”

You hung back in the shadows while Charles gave a statement in the media pit. You could feel the disappointment in his words but he tried to be positive for his fans and you knew he was a better person than you, because there was no way you could have praised your team in that moment like he did.

Thinking about your team, you looked over to Fernando who was able to smile despite his DNF. He was just happy to be back in a race car after finding his brief retirement too boring for his liking. Unfortunately the two disqualifications had bumped Lance up higher in the points and he spotted you watching their interview, sending you a cocky smile that had your fist closing.

“Ready to go?” Charles asked as he was finally free of his duty.

You tore your eyes away from the green uniform across the pit and nodded, grateful for the distraction. “Yeah, glad to go.”

Charles sighed and kissed your forehead as he draped an arm over your shoulder and led the way to the exit. “Me too, mon amour.”

The Triple Header - Mexico

“You look like you could do with a drink,” Lewis said as he joined you on the balcony above the pitland and offered a glass of amber liquid. “Don’t worry, it’s non-alcoholic tequila. It’s the first batch, reserved for special occasions only.”

You took the glass with a small smile. “Thanks, Lewis.”

“Congrats, by the way,” he whispered.

Your eyes widened in surprise and you almost choked on the smooth drink you had sipped. “For what?” you tried to play off the shock with coyness.

Lewis shrugged and looked down at Charles pacing in the pit lane. The two drivers had bonded over their DQ and it was Lewis who had been able to talk Charles into going out to celebrate Lando’s second place in Austin last week.

“They aren’t exactly the best at keeping secrets,” he chuckled, turning around to rest his elbows against the rail. “Especially once they’ve had a few drinks.”

“Trust me, I know. It’s only a matter of time until everyone else does too.” You swirled the liquid around the glass, amazed at how much it tasted and looked like the real thing. “I just want to enjoy the little bit of privacy we get for as long as possible.” Lewis coughed a laugh and you rolled your eyes. “I know it’s impossible, but I’m still going to try. ”

“I wish you all the luck in the world, honestly,” he said with a sincere smile. “And if you want any more ‘tequila’ to keep up the ruse, let me know.”

“Thanks.” You smiled at the offer as he pushed off from the rail and made his way down to Mercedes for the race. You felt the cameras on you and couldn’t help raising the glass to them before swallowing the last mouthful. Rumours had been swirling around social media since Fernando replaced you, but that photograph should at least put the brakes on the pregnancy rumours - even if they were true.

“Aren’t you meant to be keeping a low profile?” Lando asked when you stepped into the garage. He nodded his head to the footage of the pit lane on F1 TV and cocked a brow at the shot you took.

“Relax, it’s Lewis’ Agave. It’s really nice too,” you said as you velcroed his collar into place. “It was a gift, along with his congratulations.”

Lando took your hands and held them against his chest. “I’m sorry, it just slipped out.”

“Mhmm, I’ve heard that a few times now,” you chuckled. “I’ll see you after the race, be safe.”

“Always,” he promised, letting you go so you could speak to Charles before he disappeared into the grid.

Your throat was hoarse by the time the race finished and you hardly looked ladylike like the other WAGs when you celebrated Charles’ third place on the podium. It felt like it had been too long since he last stood up there with Max and you were ecstatic for him after the fight he put up.

“I’m so proud of you,” you gushed as you sat on Charles’ lap in the bar. The atmosphere was charged with excitement and you could see Lando and Max were well on their way to being drunk but Charles was happier to take it slow with a few beers. “You do realise you have a permanent sober driver for the next six months, you can drink, babe.”

“I know,” Charles chuckled as he watched Lando dance wildly. “But I am happy like this, seeing you and Lando happy.”

“Of course I am happy, I have you and him, and little bean, and Fernando DNF’d…”

You both watched Lando for a few minutes before Max clamped a hand over his mouth and started to drag him towards the booth you had taken. “Shhh, stop telling people. Ow, did you just bite me?” Max stared at his palm and saw the teeth marks in his skin.

“Mon cher, ça va?”

“I’m fine,” Lando grinned as he unbuttoned one of the few remaining ones on his shirt, baring even more skin that was flushed with colour. “I’m fucking amazing.”

“He was about to tell the whole club about your little surprise,” Max explained as he shook his sore hand out.

“I hate keeping secrets,” he whined as he shuffled across the booth and under Charles’ arm. You combed your fingers through his damp hair and he pulled your legs over his lap as he snuggled closer. “I just want to scream it to the world.”

“I know you do, mon cher, but not yet. Just a few more weeks and the season is over,” Charles reassured him. “It’s safer this way, you know how crazy it can get with fans.”

He sighed and dropped his head into nook between your neck and Charles, mumbling his agreement but that it still sucked. His racing heart slowed with the hand running calmingly up and down his spine and he eventually looked up with sleepy eyes. “Can we go? My tummy hurts.”

Charles smiled softly and nodded. “I think your head is going to hurt more in the morning.”

The Triple Header - Brazil

One week's good luck was all Charles was given. It was almost as if he was too happy and the universe needed to balance that happiness out. Starting from pole should have given him the best possible chance of holding the lead but then he disappeared from your view on the formation lap. One moment he was in the camera’s view as it panned around the corner and then he was gone, even the cameraman looked confused as he searched for the bright red Ferrari.

“Why the fuck am I so unlucky?!”

The voice in your headset was absolutely broken and the cameraman finally found Charles crashed out - yellow flags flying before the race even began. You only listened long enough to hear that Charles was uninjured before you left the Ferrari garage that you had been watching from.

The back paths were empty with the race gearing up to start without Charles so it was easy to break into a jog. You met him halfway around the track, his helmet still adorning his head that was bent down. He didn’t notice you at first, walking straight past you as he continued his walk of shame back to the pit lane. When you fell into step beside him he almost growled thinking you were a marshal trying to kick up a conversation to get an autograph.

He stumbled to a stop when he saw your face in the narrow slit of his visor. “Amour, what are you doing here?”

You reached for the buckle under the helmet and pulled it over his head, tucking it under your arm while he tugged the balaclava off his face. “I thought you might want some company.”

The whine of the engines spurring their cars off the starting line had Charles flinching and you cradled his face in your palms. “I’m sorry, baby.”

“Not your fault the car is a piece of shit,” he murmured as he closed his eyes and rested his forehead against yours until the cars had passed. “We should get back, the team will be wanting a debrief.”

“No, fuck the team. What do you want to do?”

“I don’t know, find a priest?”

You chuckled at the seriousness in his tone and shook your head. “I don’t think god has that power. He might have turned water into wine but turning your tractor into a race car might be beyond his capabilities.”

Charles snorted a laugh, taking his helmet back with one hand and holding your hand in the other. “Fine, let’s hope our man has better luck then.”

It was easier to dodge the few fans around the obscure ends of the track but Charles still chose to traipse through the trees instead of the footpath. He wasn’t in the mood to talk to anyone and you respected that as you walked quietly beside him, catching glimpses of the red flags through the mesh fence until you got back to the garages and saw the carnage that had opened the race.

“Where did you want to watch from?”

He looked down the pit lane where Redbull separated McLaren and Ferrari. He was torn between loyalties and your heart ached for him before you made the choice that would hurt least.

“Come on, there’s spare clothes in Lando’s room.”

He kept his head down as you led him into the back of the McLaren motorhome, waving off anyone who attempted to approach him. “It will take a while for them to clean up the mess on the track. Why don’t you shower and change before we go back?”

Charles nodded sullenly while you locked the door to Lando’s driver room but he made no attempt to undress as he stood looking lost and broken. He barely breathed as you dragged the zip down his body, pushing the suit over his shoulders before pulling his fireproof shirt off.

“I wish I knew the magic words to make you feel better,” you murmured as you kissed his collarbone. He hadn’t even started the race but the suits were so hot that his skin tasted salty on your lips. “But, I do know one way to distract you…”

His chest finally moved as your hands dragged the rest of his suit down his muscular legs and you dropped to your knees in front of him. Green eyes darkened as he watched you lick your palm before wrapping your fingers around his cock and stroking him to life. His lips parted when you moistened yours and sealing them around his tip and a soft moan filled the room.

The sounds slowly grew louder as you took him deeper in your mouth and you revelled in the sweet praise he gave. His large hand gripped the back of your head as he surrendered himself to the escape from reality that you offered and you moaned when his cock pulsed with his release. The taste of his come coated your tongue and you swallowed it down before licking your lips clean of the saliva that had run down them.

“Shit,” Charles groaned as the door handle rattled, but it was Lando’s voice on the other side and he relaxed at the sound.

Charles reluctantly stepped into the shower cubicle as you opened the door and Lando stole a kiss as a greeting when he entered. He hadn’t seen Charles but his eyes darted around the room as he tasted the lingering musky residue on your lips, pouting at missing out. “You started without me.”

“You still have a race,” Charles pointed out as he turned on the shower.

Lando’s lips turned down and he took a seat on the couch, pulling you onto his lap so you could both watch Charles shower through the glass window.

“He was rather miserable,” you whispered. “He can’t wait for the season to end.”

Lando could understand why. It was an odd position he found himself in because the more points he scored then the more stress was placed on Charles’ shoulders. It was a double edged sword that he hadn’t quite thought about when he envisioned dating a driver.

“I can’t blame him,” Lando muttered. “Just two more races. Hopefully his team manages to fix the car for them. It sucked seeing him spin off like that. I knew he was fine, but it still freaked me out.”

You saw his worry in the form of a frown and forgot that he had been behind the crash. “We have been lucky there hasn’t been any serious crashes this season,” you mused as you rubbed his frown away. “It was bad enough before, but now…” You placed a hand on your stomach and shook your head. “I never want to know that kind of worry.”

There weren’t any words of solace he could find without lying so instead he distracted you from the thoughts with a searing kiss. Soon Charles stepped out of the shower with a towel slung low on his hips and Lando debated staying longer, but he reluctantly shifted you to his side so he could stand.

“You can watch from upstairs if you want,” Lando offered Charles as he watched the water droplets run down his chest. “Or hide in here.”

Charles chuckled knowing ‘hide’ was absolutely a euphemism for what you would actually do. “We will watch you, mon cher,” he assured him with a kiss. “Go and fight Max for first.”

Lando grinned at the thought, loving the challenge that was unlikely but still something to aim for. “Will do, but it should have been you, love.”

Charles shrugged, feeling a little lighter after blowing off some steam and the shower. “It is what it is.”

You heard the announcement over the PA system and checked your watch to see how long there was until the restart time. “Go, your team will be waiting. I’ll take care of Charles.”

“Again?” Lando laughed as he stepped back to the door. “Give the man time to rejuice, baby.”

“Focus on the race,” you reminded him as you opened the door. “I’ll still be here when you finish and then you can think about my mouth all you want.”

You enjoyed the soft groan that clawed up his throat at the thought but you closed the door with a laugh before he could step back in. “Go. We love you!”

“Love you too,” he replied before testing the door handle one last time and finding it locked. “Fine, I’m going.”

Click here for next part.

#f1 fanfic #f1 imagine #charles leclerc fanfic #charles leclerc imagine #lando norris fanfic #lando norris imagine #lando norris x reader #charles leclerc x reader #formula one imagine #formula one fanfiction #formula 1 fanfic #f1 x reader

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norrisleclercf1 · 9 months

Note

Could you do one where Elijah gets food poisoning or something during a race weekend and tries to push through anyway and they comfort him

Everyone gets Sick

Pairing: Lando Norris x Reader x Charles Leclerc

Elijah is 18, Cecile is 14. Elijah is in his first season in F2

A/N: Also felt like making this only Lando and Elijah. Just a little insight into their relationship, also I can’t find a face claim I like for Elijah, so if anyone has recommendations for blonde male face claims that’ll help a lot .

"You good kid?" Elijah groans, raising his head slightly from between his legs. "Yeah, I'm good." Elijah looks up at his engineer. "You sure?" He questions, Elijah was pale. Not the pale where it's normal but the kind that he looked ready to pass out.

"Yes, just...ugh." Elijah feels that burn and muscles clamping all over his body as he swallows, trying hard not to vomit. "Elijah, listen if you can't race no one is going to fault you." His engineer Paul whispers. "No, I have to race." Gasping, as he sucks in the humid air of Monza.

"Damn kid." Paul curses, walking off as the boy tries hard to control his stomach. "You look like shit." Glaring at his younger sister she smiles handing him a water bottle.

"Where's Dad?" Elijah whispers, just craving him. "Media Duties. Want me to get him?" He shakes his head no, at 18 Elijah wasn't sure what he really wanted. "You're sick." "Thank you captian obvious." Elijah growls, his stomach curling this time he's not able to stop it.

Moving quick, he grabs the small bucket and coughs loudly as his sister cringes patting his back. "So gross." Cecile groans trying hard to not turn around. Spitting, Elijah grabs his bottle and takes a sip swirling it around before spitting.

"Don't," Elijah gasps pushing his blonde hair back, "Tell anyone." "That's stupid, you're sick. I'm telling." Standing she goes to get either her dads of Mama, but when a large hand slaps down on her arm she stops. "Please, don't. I need these points Cece. I'm so close." She groans, rolling her head as she tries to do the right thing.

"Eli, you could crash! What would you do if you need to vomit? You can't. I'm getting Dad." Elijah groans, hand slipping as Cece takes off.

--------------------------------

"I couldn't be prouder of my son. His first season in F2 and he's second in the title fight is a wonderful thing, I wish," "Dad! Dad! Daddy!" Lando stops talking, whipping around to see Cecile pushing through the media. "Excuse me." Lando rushes off, meeting her halfway.

"Baby? What's wrong?" Lando worries, looking over his daughter as she gasps for air. "It's," She takes another deep breath, "Woah, that was a run. I didn't know it would be that far," She rambles Lando confused. "Cecile, what's wrong?" He's trying to stay calm, but it's not easy when your 14-year-old daughter comes screaming.

"Oh, it's Eli. He's," Lando doesn't wait as he bolts off heading towards Elijah's garage. "Oh god, more running." Cecile whines running after her Dad.

"Elijah? Elijah? Ducky!" "I'm here Dad." He groans, Lando skidding to a stop as he kneels down before his son. "And don't call me Ducky." He gasps as he turns, throwing up. Lando cringes still hating anything to do with throwing up. But this is his son and he's sick. His childish aversion would have to be put to rest.

"Oh, Ducky." Lando whispers grabbing a cold water and pouring it over a towel before wringing it out, laying it on his neck. "I hate this." Elijah gasps, tears slipping down. "It's food poisoning. We told you not to eat that burger. You said it tasted weird, should've stopped." Lando scolds, but it holds no heat sitting next to his son.

"Dad?" "Yeah Ducky?" Elijah scoots closer, placing his head on Lando's shoulder. "I don't think I can race. I'm sorry." His throat grows tights, except this time it due to the tears. "Why are you sorry? You can't help it." Lando laughs, pulling Elijah in, resting his chin on top of his son's head.

"You're always so proud of me. Pa and you always raced even when you're sick. I should be able to do that too, but I can't." He whispers. Lando sighs, wrapping his arms tighter around his little boy. "Everyone gets sick, Elijah. I rather you not race then race and get in a crash. I'm proud of you no matter what, you're my little Ducky." Lando kisses Elijah's forehead, Elijah closing his eyes as he leans more into Lando.

Even though he's grown, it's moments like these that Lando craves for them to be younger, smaller. They always wanted him when they were sick, but to know that his little boy who's a man now still wanted him, healed a small crack in his heart.

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agendabymooner · 6 months

Text

SOMETHING WAGERED !!! JENSON B. X DRIVER!FEM!READER X SEBASTIAN V. (18+)

summary: she really shouldn't have undermined their abilities to win a bet she off-handedly made.

content warning: smut under the cut (minors dni!), use of explicit language, dom!rbr!seb and dom!mclaren!jenson, threesome, oral sex (m receiving), p in v, spitroast 🥸/trip to paris or sumn, size kink-esque (someone choking reader to feel themselves in reader's- you'll see), praise kink + dumbification, bratty turned cockdrunk!reader

note: what if you have two papers to write but then god said "write a smut?" enjoy xx

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if you’d like to get on one of my taglists, check this post out

she shouldn’t have undermined these bastards.

that bet that she made with them was an off-handed comment, anyways. so why did they take it too seriously?

she had a podium streak in comparison to jenson button and sebastian vettel, always finding herself a rank or so above the two. because of her constant p2, her ego got the best of her — telling them that she would let them celebrate with her the next time they landed a place above her.

she seemed to be hesitant at the thought of it at first— but she was more bewildered when her race engineer announced that jenson got p1 and red bull’s sebastian followed after him. she was in p3.

she had known that she had sebastian on her tail before the last lap, but she wondered where she went wrong as they sat in the cooldown room. the two men smirked and gave each other a knowing look, watching the woman as she sat there silently— unable to look at them.

and now, a quick teasing and grinding of hips against the others later, she found herself whining on all fours between the two drivers. jenson’s cock pounding inside her cunt while her cheeks hollowed around sebastian’s length.

her eyes were teary as she took a deep breath, feeling sebastian’s hand wrapped around her neck as he groaned and swore in german.

“scheiße, schatz,” sebastian muttered beneath his breath, feeling her tongue lapping on the underside of his cock. “you suck my cock so well— and i thought driving's the only thing you’re good at.”

sebastian squeezed her throat lightly, groaning deeply when he felt the bulge in her throat as she took his length in. “such a good girl, schatz— i can feel my throat in your cock, baby.”

jenson chuckled breathlessly, driving his hips against her backside as he spoke, “wait ‘til you feel her cunt, mate. she’s so fuckin’ good— you’re such a good fuckin’ girl, no, baby?”

her eyes found sebastian’s as she tried nodding. only to end up choking for a brief moment as she continued to moan around the german’s cock.

her walls were too oversensitive from getting tossed back and forth between the two after each one of them fucked her with their thick fingers. yet jenson was kneeling behind her as if she had more in her system.

because truthfully, she did have more in her system— she just couldn’t explain it anymore. she was too drunk on their cocks that she couldn’t say anything.

sebastian took his hand away from her throat and tapped her face, “he’s asking you a question, liebe.”

she almost cried when sebastian pulled his cock out of her mouth, unable to utter a word besides from, “seb— please- wan’ your cock—“

“but jenson is asking you a question— do you even know what he’s asked, liebe?” sebastian crooned mockingly, making her shake her head in embarrassment and immense pleasure as he laughed, “oh my goodness, are you getting stupid for our cocks?”

“my goodness, gorgeous,” jenson laughed from behind, his thrusts making her moan aloud as he continued to mock her, “us winning must’ve made you dumb, huh? can’t you believe that we get to fuck you like this because you were so bratty before this week?”

“jens— seb— ah,” she babbled, her arms shaking before she held onto sebastian’s hips. she looked up at him once more, eyes glazed with tears as she pleaded, “please… wan’ your cock so bad, seb.”

“i know you do, liebe,” sebastian dipped his head down to peck her lips. “you knew we’d win after that bet of yours that’s why you made it, hm?”

“such an eager girl,” jenson tsked, “you could’ve just begged us to fuck you like a good girl. you didn’t have to come bragging to us about your winning streak.”

the next thing she knew was that her mouth was back to sucking sebastian’s cock, making lewd noises as she devoured his length.

jenson’s cock was sending her to an overdrive, making her moan around sebastian as she whimpered. to make her body shake harder, jenson’s hand snaked around her hips and found its way towards her clit.

“mmh- ah hah,” she tried to let out, but sebastian’s length kept her voice muffled and vibrating as sebastian moaned.

“oh gooood~” sebastian groaned, “fucking hell, jenson keep fucking her like that.”

jenson hissed sharply, “god, she’s so fuckin’ tight around me, seb. she’s about to cum. good girl, baby— you are such a good fuckin’ girl for us.”

she nearly screamed, too turned on by jenson and sebastian’s filthy yet praising words as she felt her legs shaking and cunt throbbing.

“mh- ngh~ f…” jenson’s fingers continued to toy with her clit as she murmured around seb, “f- uck—!”

her eyes began to roll back, her vision blurring and turning white as she came around jenson. jenson and sebastian groaned loudly as they both came, with sebastian’s cock twitching inside her mouth and jenson’s coating her walls white.

her body limped for a brief moment, her ears listening to the men’s heavy breathing as they shuffled around the room. she hadn’t even bothered looking up until she saw jenson and sebastian standing in front of her.

“mmm…” she hummed.

“you look so pretty when you’re fucked out like this, doll,” jenson grinned at her, making her smile lazily.

“maybe we should win more often,” sebastian snickered quietly.

“and here i thought the prize money matters more,” she murmured quietly, making the two laugh at her quips.

“not if we get to see you like this every win, darling,” jenson replied with a smirk, “now c’mon. drink up. you’ve promised to ride seb. up you get, sweets.”

she never really should’ve undermined these bastards. especially when she saw how much energy they’ve had left after fucking her for hours.

♡ moony’s reminder 🅶 (general): @hiraethrhapsody @avaleineandafryingpan @topguncultleader @enhacolor @roseandtulips @woweewoowa @magnummagnussen

♡ moony’s reminder 🅴 (explicit edition): @glitterf1

#jenson button smut #jenson button one shot #jenson button imagine #sebastian vettel imagine #sebastian vettel #sebastian vettel x reader #sebastian vettel smut #formula one smut #f1 smut #jenson button x reader #jenson button #formula one imagine #f1 imagine #f1 x reader #f1 x you #formula one fanfiction #♔ something sinful ⎯ f1 smut

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satoruhour · 5 months

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Helllooo!!!! I hope you're doing well<33 I'm not sure if you're taking requests so this can be taken as a random rant as well. (I'm in my exam week-depressed-stressed era lol) but is it just me Or the animated version of choso and the mans voice actor just doubled his hotness!?? Hence why me is here to ask if you could do a choso street racer au, could be anything from him meeting at a race or him taking them drifting? Idk but I just need more racer choso au's😭😭😭

LUCKY DIME

a/n: oh no my love i hope your exams went well and that you’re resting comfortably now ❤️ OFCCCC i planned to write a racer!choso for so long i just didnt have any motivation / tagging @screampied

wc: 3k

warnings: racer!choso, reader is ‘dating’ a weirdo, fem!reader, threat of sexual assault (from weirdo guy), threatening harm, flashback, unsafe driving tendencies (dont follow them in this fic lol pls drive safely), semi-public sex (parking lot), car sex, slight nipple play, oral (f! receiving) / cunnilingus, fingering, finger sucking, implied multiple rounds and p -> v sex later on, n*sfw under the cut

choso hasn’t always been open about his origins — moving from the shimotsuma district to shibuya just two years ago in need of quick cash to send back to his struggling mother. it was a hard decision on both ends, with his mother advocating more for him to leave for a better life than the one she could offer. he acquiesced with a promise to earn enough to send back to her every month in return for the secret stash she provided for him and that promise meant everything. he was going to get money no matter what.

even if it meant meddling with the local yakuza, doing petty little tasks of collecting money, escorting the people important to the oyabun to their meeting places, being on lookouts while gambling and prostitution happens indoors. choso would never write back to his mother on what he’s been doing to get so much money, but if he’s able to send a hefty amount back to her on every 29th, he’s satisfied.

that is until he’s met with a couple arguing as they walk along the alleyway, creating such a ruckus that choso’s sure they could power the whole of shibuya — well, more of the man, anyways, saying something about racing and cars that he’s not even sure he catches on.

“well, if you just listened to her and opted for a flat-plane rather than use a cross-plane, maybe you wouldn’t have lost the race!” you’re throwing your hands up, struggling to walk behind in these new heels you bought while you navigate the dark alleyway. for a boy who’s expressed interest in you, he wasn’t doing well in trying to keep you one bit. you’d say he’s rather annoyed that you know so much about cars, trying to genuinely help him while he just sees it as attacks.

“yeah, well, if you kept your mouth shut, you wouldn’t have embarrassed me about losing to noritoshi.” you roll your eyes, unaware you’re passing a dangerous area with dangerous activities behind the door choso was guarding, nor do you notice the way the bodyguard perks up at the name of noritoshi, who sounds awfully familiar.

you scoff, “trust me, you embarrassed yourself the moment you tried to challenge the dude,” it was meant to be a harmless comment; noritoshi could never measure up to the famous four, but he practised his drifting hard enough and put in the hard work, stayed humble. he was everything that your “man” wasn’t, and it was only deserved that he didn’t win. ultimately, you didn’t expect much from a man in the illegal racing scene who only cared about who had the nicest engines and paint finishes.

“what’d you say?”

choso keeps a close eye on the both of you.

“it was nothing—” you sigh, reaching out to grab at his arm to get him to stop shouting so loud when you notice the person standing in front of a shady door — twin pigtails hairstyle with a dead look in his eyes and a tattoo across his nose, dressed up in a suit. it was scary enough walking through a dimly-lit alleyway, but your fear heightens when your eyes fall upon the surroundings of ashes of late night campfires, dried blood along the walls, and used condoms on the floor.

“no, no, tell me what you said, just so i know that i heard you right,” your “man” insisted, stepping up so close to you that your nerves were on high alert from the proximity and the possibility of that someone just a few feet away inflicting harm on the both of you.

“it was nothing! i just meant that you didn’t have a chance against noritoshi from the st—” it’s like you hit a sensitive nerve, because the next thing he’s doing is grabbing your wrist and dragging you along, not aware of how choso perks up even more, ready to leave his post. it borderline hurts with the way he grasps at your skin, paired with the discomfort of your heels and outfit, you can’t just wait to get home and rest up.

“ohh, so that’s what you said!” the man continues to tug you, not heeding your pleas for him to stop, “might as well just leave you here with the yakuza to see whether you stand a chance.”

that’s what the man was guarding . . wait.

a shout wretches out of you when you notice there’s no shadows at the door that’s lit simply with fluorescence at the same time the mysterious man has one hand each on your arms.

“who are you—” your “man” has the gall to speak first, shocked at the stronger grip of the other when he tears the fingers away from your wrist before stumbling back. the mysterious guy simply tugs you into his hold, levelling the other with just a stare from his eyes that’s got him babbling and stuttering in fear. you hate to admit that once the man beside you speaks, your body curls into his side — it’s like a smooth cup of coffee that you gravitate towards.

“do you want to repeat what you just said?” choso puts you behind him as he approaches the other, one step taken while the cowering one takes one step back. “because i can always open the door i’m guarding and let them take care of you, instead.”

“t-that wouldn’t be necessary—” he’s adamant on his threatening, taking out a flip phone and dialling numbers one by one, no doubt the number of his boss. he doesn’t even look at you, eyes trained on the pigtailed man as he continues to dial the number and pressing call. if choso’s being honest, he’s about to shit himself just as much, never having called his saiko-komon personally before so he only fakes the number, thanking the heavens that someone somewhere decided to call his boss’ phone just at the same time.

they all hear it, the familiar nokia ringtone from behind the door, but in choso’s ear, all it says is that it’s an invalid number that garners no answer. he talks over the operator’s voice anyway.

“yeah, i need you to take care of this guy. just outside here—” that’s enough for him to go running away, puddles splashing and his voice crying out for civilisation, although you’re not too happy yourself, afraid for your own fate. kept like a pet for the yakuza? made to work for them to pay off this small helping hand? commit—

you sit up from the hood, “you called a fake number?!” it’s hard to say when that fateful meeting turned into this over the past few months, asking choso to recount the night the two of you met out of curiosity when you realise that your yakuza-accountant boyfriend had dialled a fake number the whole time.

“i had just joined! i wasn’t going to phone my boss . .” he sheepishly says with head turned to you, and while you’re giving him brutal smacks on the shoulder (“what! if! he! hadn’t! run! away! were you going to let a phone operator beat him up?”), you’re still thankful he decided to step in at the right time even if his heroic act had been brought down a notch by this revelation.

it’s then that he asks about the whole racing thing you were involved in but you’re taken aback by the fact that he wasn’t going to make you do anything in return. even if the alley had boasted its dubiousness, you realise than the man standing in front of you was not much older than you, a childish sparkle in his eyes when you entertained the question. with a random number in your phone, it was up to you if you wanted to text him, but after a few races, you think that he was just too handsome to pass up.

choso picked up racing and drifting fast, joining your small group of friends of yuji, megumi and nobara who were all rising up the ranks. it was difficult, knowing the famous four, but it didn’t hurt trying to build a reputation in the underground scene. he practised around the docks, crashing into crates, sending the seagulls flying, and almost sending your scrap car over the edge.

“tokyo is pretty at this time of night,” choso mumbles as he sits up, too, liking the way you scooch closer to him on the hood of his 1967 Ford Mustang.

“tokyo is cold, i’m lucky i’m not freezing to death.” you tease him even when you’re wearing his warm jacket, squealing when his cold hands make it under the jacket and your shirt.

“how are you cold, that jacket’s wool!” he nestles his face into your neck, freezing nose touching the skin there and you giggle, trying your best to push him away. choso says that, but he’s happy to see you in his jacket while his arms tingle with both frost and lovesickness. “you’re just extra sensitive to the cold.”

before you can retaliate, though, he’s pulling away from your body heat to look you in the eye; it was a wonder he even got you, a girl who’s just so passionate about cars and who taught him everything he needed to know about it. six months down the road, he’s writing about something other than living paycheck to paycheck again, getting in some extra money from racing as well.

“wanna drive?”

you grin, hopping off his hood before jumping into the car beside him and he only laughs at your enthusiasm, hopping in after you and starting the ignition. you wish it was like this before every race: you beside him in the passenger seat as he gets ready to race against his opponent. the rev of the engine always excites you, knowing you contributed to the many modifications of his Mustang. but choso always says it’s dangerous for you — so you’re left to watch from the sidelines.

but now, as choso drifts down the mountain, you can’t help but stare at him as he changes gears every few seconds, hair blowing everywhere from the wind outside before he reaches the base and races off into the main road. you’re shouting in excitement, music blasting loudly from the cassette player while you dominate the streets at night.

“d’you think i can break 190, sweetheart?”

your jaw drops, “while drifting?” he nods, “you’re insane . . yeah, do it.”

choso’s laughter feels infinitely heavenly, stepping on the accelerator on a fairly empty road. he’s familiar with the traffic of the roads too, so at 4am, it’s basically deserted when he speeds down the gravel while he tries to break the speed limit. you feel on top of the world, a pretty road full of green lights on every turn; there’s a couple of sharp screeches from his tires as he navigates shibuya.

“hear that increased throttle response . .” you whistle when he presses his foot into the accelerator again, Mustang speeding off into the streets while you look over to him: hand holding the stick shift and one hand on the wheel. he’s as pretty as you remember him six months ago and his beauty truly hits you in the moment that you unconsciously rub your thighs together.

“all thanks to you, baby,” feels like the final blow, not knowing the effect he has on you until you’re waiting until he slows down to place your hand atop his on the steering wheel. there he lets you steer where you want to go, face melting into recognition at the place you’re taking him to.

“you’re nasty.” in the abandoned car park, he giggles when you’re shushing him as you make your way to the backseats, levelling him with a stare that begged him to hurry.

“yeah . . whatever, you like it.”

choso grins, switching off the ignition and climbing in after you, making you forget all about the cold season of japan in mere minutes. his lips collide with yours and his body naturally pushes yours to the leather seats, driving you crazy just with his mouth. his hands make quick work of your skimpy outfit, inching past your tight halter top and to your tits. you gasp softly into the kiss.

“may i?” even after all this time, choso still asks for permission, pulling down your top and bra when you nod.

his mouth is both warm and gentle when it meets with your nipple, tongue swirling around the bud and eyes looking up at you just to relish in the hooded lids and soft moans you give him. his free hand fondles your other, squeezing and playing, rolling the bud between his thumb and forefinger.

“just s’soft . . always,” he hums into your chest, kissing you down bit by bit and making you wait for it with each teasing journey he makes. there, he manoeuvres himself onto the floor, kneeling on the carpeted finishing as your knees hook onto each shoulder. the car is filled with your laboured breathing, watching him slowly undo the straps to your uncomfortable heels. it’s excruciatingly slow, pulling at the strings and removing each shoe before his lips leave fire along your shin, up to your thighs and to your pulsing core.

“choso . .” you whine, hips bucking off the leather.

all he does is laugh, hands spreading your legs before he’s licking his lips at the mess you made in your skirt, panties and back of the fabric soaked right through. your boyfriend pulls you forward with a certain fervour that makes you yelp and you match him with a nervous grin as he tugs away the underwear and marvels at the arousal that just sticks to your pussy, pretty and dripping right in front of him.

you have no warning before choso indulges himself in your cunt and you cry out in surprise, hand tangled up in the mess of his hair that falls from his pigtails. his warm tongue laps at your clit like a man starved, slurping up all of your arousal into his tongue. the cold weather is just the cherry on top, cold wind wafting through the walls and the windows, making you extra sensitive.

“c-cho—” you hum, one hand lost in his black locks while the other clutches tightly onto the seats for any sort of anchor while choso only pushes his face further in between your legs. he can feel your pussy clench around nothing, switching between sucking and flicking his tongue with a relentless pace that threatens your sanity. “t-too much . .”

all he does is laugh into your centre, eyes flitting to meet yours while he continues his ministrations, arms wrapping around your thighs. choso moans at how good and sweet you taste, a curious hand moving from your legs right to your hole where he plays with your folds. gently, he pushes past your walls and you whimper from the intrusion, clamping down around his finger.

“relax, darling, i got you,” he softly says, relaxing his pace just a bit as he starts to thrust his finger. while slow, his tongue doesn’t stop, however, still continuing to make the lewdest noises.

“pussy so damn sweet,” he groans, nuzzling his face right into your sloppy core before teasing a second finger; it’s easy to slip in but he still warns you wordlessly, inching them right in until they reach the knuckles, “and so tight, too—”

the car is filled with the smell of sex, the sounds of your pussy and your endless moans as choso starts to pump his fingers in and out, reaching so much deeper than any of your toys can and stretching you out just right. your hips buck uncontrollably as you feel that coil in your stomach, knowing that you were only going to get even more of this before choso properly fucks you — but it’s all he promises, that to make sure you’d cum on his fingers and tongue thrice before he even thinks of railing you like you deserve.

“c-choso, your fingers—!”

“yeah?” it’s breathless, bottom half of his face all soaked and wet, but he goes right back in.

“mmfuck— cho, cho, p-please . .” your words are jumbled up, babbling through your teeth while his fingers gathers all of your juices, “i’m g’nna—”

choso thinks you’re just perfect like this, moaning as much as you want in his Mustang and spread out just for him to eat. he cannot keep his eyes off you, curling his fingers just a bit to find your sweet spot as he flicks your bundle of nerves as his eyes stay on the way your lips part for little pants to escape. your eyes have fluttered close by now but he doesn’t mind as you continue to push his head towards your cunt.

“cum on my fingers, my love,” the other groans, words muffled a little, “cum on my tongue like a good girl.”

“cho— f-fuuck . .” you writhe around on the leather seats as you reach your peak, voice descending into a silent scream while your jaw hangs open. at his peripheral he can see and feel your thighs tremble while you chant his name like a prayer, over and over until you think your voice is hoarse. his seats are wet, no doubt, and you wince seeing your cum decorate the leather, but choso quietens your worries as he leans up to give you a kiss. you can taste yourself.

“taste good?” you’re ruined despite it being your first orgasm, answering half-heartedly before slumping, a soft moan leaving you when he removes his fingers and strings of your arousal stick to each digit. his hand naturally gravitates towards your mouth, fumbling with your lips before he pushes in — distracted, he takes the opportunity to latch his mouth onto your cunt again and you mewl loudly.

“that’s just the start,” choso grins, laying a long stripe up your pussy and groaning softly at the way your tongue swirls over his fingers, “i’m sorry in advance . . hope you’re able to get out of bed tomorrow, baby.”

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