meet some of the pete's place regulars!
˚ ♡ ✧.* : ̗̀➛ requests by: two anons, @welight-theway, @crokitheloki, @hansensgirl, @buggy14, @leaderofthebadbitchbrigade.
✧.*ೃ⁀➷ pete's place | the intro | opening night | the playlist ༊*·˚
this is a dark au/verse. minors need not interact. happy endings don't happen here.
𝐀𝐧𝐝𝐲 𝐁𝐚𝐫𝐛𝐞𝐫 - 𝐓𝐡𝐞 𝐆𝐨𝐨𝐝 𝐋𝐚𝐰𝐲𝐞𝐫
41 years old.
6’2’’.
Suburban dad with a dark side.
Likes flashing the cash for a look as he doesn’t get much attention back home.
Never misses stopping by when he’s in town.
Has a type and it just so happens to be you.
Brings you gifts; new outfits, new shoes, gold chains, etc, every single time he visits the club.
Will spend the whole night promising you the world– and his wallet, if you just go home with him.
Top Three: Daddy Kink, Overstimulation, Praise Kink.
𝐁𝐮𝐜𝐤𝐲 𝐁𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐞𝐬 - 𝐓𝐡𝐞 𝐖𝐚𝐫 𝐕𝐞𝐭
45 years old.
6’4’’.
Oh, what a nice man–
Warning sirens sound in the distance.
Danger! Danger!
The man will make you beg, make you cry, rearrange your insides, make you fall in love and break you down all within a night.
The man is all kinds of fucked up. But knows how to hide it well.
Under Lloyds employement so like, you can guess the kinds of fucked up.
Did awful things while serving in the army, brought some of that back home with him.
Protect you? More like slaughter anyone who gives you a momentary glance.
Top Three: Rough (Violent) Sex, Service Kink, Corruption Kink.
𝐉𝐨𝐡𝐧𝐧𝐲 𝐒𝐭𝐨𝐫𝐦 - 𝐓𝐡𝐞 𝐋𝐨𝐜𝐚𝐥 𝐅𝐮𝐜𝐤𝐛𝐨𝐲
28 years old.
6’1’’.
Cocky motherfucker, hot and he knows it.
The embodiment of a hyper puppy.
Acts like he’s always got the zoomies whenever he’s in the club.
Annoys the absolute shit out of all the girls but he’s hot, so they deal with it.
Secretly a sweetheart but never shuts his mouth.
Gets a little too handsy when he’s had a drink– or five.
Always asking Pete to loan him one of his girls for the night.
Don’t get him twisted, the guy FUCKS. and he's NASTY about it
Top Three: Dirty Talk, Deepthroating, Body Worship (receiving).
𝐋𝐞𝐞 𝐁𝐨𝐝𝐞𝐜𝐤𝐞𝐫 - 𝐓𝐡𝐞 𝐒𝐡𝐞𝐫𝐫𝐢𝐟𝐟
43 years old.
6’0’’.
Corrupt little wank, like’s to make Pete nervous when he comes around, but he’d never spill on the shady things as he likes the club’s views.
Talks big shit but you’ll find him in the VIP rooms on a Saturday night.
A little wrong in the head, but treat him right and he’ll make you scream.
Can get a little rough with the girls when he's had a few.
Tight with money so always tries it on for a discount for not opening his mouth.
Has a big cock and is smug about it.
Likes 'em on their knees with an wide open mouth.
Top Three: Daddy Kink, Corruption Kink, Choking.
𝐌𝐢𝐤𝐞 𝐖𝐞𝐢𝐬𝐬 - 𝐓𝐡𝐞 𝐃𝐲𝐬𝐟𝐮𝐧𝐜𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧𝐚𝐥 𝐋𝐚𝐰𝐲𝐞𝐫
32 years old
6’0’’.
Troubled addict that’s in the club; Every. Single. Night.
Likes just to watch, girls kinda hate him in the club because he won’t even throw a dollar bill but will spend a paycheck on drinks and other things.
Spends money he doesn’t have, does the odd job for Pete when he’s in a little legal trouble which gets him the odd night in the VIP rooms.
Don’t underestimate him though.
Will have you crawling back for seconds.
While not the roughest by any means, get him high enough and annoyed enough, he’ll make sure you’re not walking for the next two weeks.
Top Three: High Sex, Overstimulation, Throat-Fucking.
𝐒𝐭𝐞𝐯𝐞 𝐊𝐞𝐦𝐩 - 𝐓𝐡𝐞 𝐐𝐮𝐢𝐞𝐭 𝐎𝐧𝐞
35 years old
6’1’’.
Idk, fam, somethings off about this one but we're gonna ignore it, okay?
Stares a little too long, kinda like he’s hunting.
Makes your heart race a little being around him– fuck or fight i guess. I know which I’m doing.
Tips nicely but never wants a private dance, likes to watch and drop cash at your feet after.
Weirdo tbh. It’s not like he ain’t got the money.
Sucks to be you if you decide to go home with him.
You ain't coming back, honey.
Top Three: Blood Play, Knife Play, Bondage/Rope.
*** if by chance, i have missed your req and you know you sent it before reqs were closed, please let me know asap so i can add it to this list!! thank u all sm for u patience. i love u all<33
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Sewis - Rhythm of Your Love
(send me a title and i'll give you a 5 sentence* fic)
"Seb," Lewis's muffled voice says, a rhythmic thumping coming from the trailer door for the fifth time in as many minutes, "Seb, I know you're in there, come on."
"No," Sebastian says out loud into his pillow, and even to his own ears, his voice sounds horribly petulant, but–fuck, he deserves to be, after this race. Fuck Austria, and fuck the SF1000, and Binotto, and Christian for finding him after the race just to clap him on the back and say, "Tough bit of luck, eh?" – and fuck himself, too, for looking over at the RB16 in parc fermé and thinking for one treacherous moment, what if, what if, what if–
"Seb," Lewis says, "I'm not leaving until you open this door." His voice is equal parts concerned and exasperated, the sound of it as familiar as Seb's own heartbeat. As stupidly, stubbornly persistent as his own heart, too, with the way it bashes itself against closed doors and refuses to leave well enough alone and surfaces in front of him, day after day after year after year, even when he's done nothing to keep it coming back.
He waits a second longer anyways, just in case Lewis has let his better judgement win out and is going to leave him to wallow in peace after all–
Tap-tap-tap-tap-tap, Lewis's hand on the door says again, and Sebastian groans into the pillow and pushes himself up to go let him in.
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In honour of F1 Secret Santa (a sacred beloved holiday tradition) I’m crossposting this double drabble (200 words) ❄️🎄🎁
***
Charles has called an emergency meeting, so now the four of them are standing around, awkwardly crammed into the Ferrari hospitality, occasionally stepping aside to allow a team member to brush past. It feels vaguely illegal.
“A car?”
“The budget is, like, twenty quid.”
“Mate, who cares?” Lando rolls his eyes. “It’s a stupid Secret Santa. It doesn’t mean anything.”
Charles glowers. A gift is, essentially, a reflection of a person and what they’re trying to convey. It matters. Not to mention there’s no gift that feels adequate or fitting for Seb.
“I think what Lando is trying to say,” George elbows him, “is that it’s the thought that counts.”
“This is not helpful.”
Lando snorts. “Look, just get him a set of golf clubs or something. He’ll probably like it. He’s old.”
“Seb doesn’t golf,” Charles declares matter-of-factly. He shoots Lando a pointed look. “Maybe you are thinking of Carlos.”
To his credit, Lando has the decency to keep quiet.
“Well, if you want to be original, you could always make him something yourself. You know, so it’s from the heart,” Alex suggests.
It hits him, then.
Charles springs forward, clapping Alex on the back. “Albono, you’re a genius!”
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