#dnf fic not found

[dnf-library]

hi! do u have perhaps a fic called "wanna dance in socks around you"? its by GenOfEve!

Hi! We’ve gotten a few requests for this but didn’t find it in our immediate archive. does anyone have this fic? we will keep looking!

[heliumcore]

There’s something deeply cruel about being a teenager and having the weight of the multiverse on your back.

Here’s art based on the fic I’m currently writing called No Hesitation! It’s a Sci-Fi + Fantasy adventure, with a sideplot of romance. There’s a link to the first chapter and close ups under the cut :)

[lesbosaur1]

Scars, a DNF Fic

okay guys this took forever to write, and I'm still not sure how to format this stuff in Tumblr, but here we go!! 2.9k words!

George always wondered why Dream only wore hoodies and long sleeves.

TW: Language, mentions of self harm, suggestion of Alcohol

Everyone has scars. Either mental or physical. And George knows this well. Not so much the physical part, as his few scars are from stupid childhood shticks and mosquito bites. He never really went outside or did anything stupid. He preferred to stay inside and play games with Dream, his best friend.He and Dream met ages ago, but now that they finally live together with Sapnap, George has been noticing some things that he never saw before. Mostly because he didn’t know what Dream had looked like for years, but he recently has been noticing that Dream doesn’t wear short-sleeved shirts. Always hoodies, mostly merch from his friend’s channels. But even when he first came out to meet George when the two first met in real life, he still had long sleeves. Which annoys George for some reason. He wants to know everything about Dream. Not in a love way, George doesn’t love Dream. At least he thinks so.

So while Dream is out shopping with Sapnap, George stays back, frustratedly flopping onto a couch. He had tried literally everything he could think of to get Dream to take his hoodie off. Including turning the heat up in the house. Which only led to Sapnap complaining and walking around shirtless for an hour. But not Dream.

He groans and tosses his head back, only to be immediately whacked in the face with a tail. Spitting hair out of his mouth he turns to glare at Patches. But he can’t stay mad at that face. Especially since that’s Dream’s cat…..

He picks Patches up and ignoring her annoyed grunts, stares her in the eyes.

“What is he hiding?” He mumbles to the cat, like she’s going to tell him.

Patches blinks, swats him in the face and jumps off the couch to go do cat things. George sighs. He knows it’s weird. Like, why does he care so much about seeing Dream’s arms? It’s not like he finds Dream attractive, or has a thing for arms. He just wants to know. Right?

He jumps up as the main door opens. He hadn’t even heard the car! Sapnap walks in with a pineapple for some reason and Dream follows behind him. In a hoodie with Bad’s logo on it.

George sighs. ‘Of course’ he thinks.Then flushes, did he sigh out loud?

Dream looks at him. “Did you finish editing?” He asks in that stupid, idiotic, not at all deep, definitely not attractive voice of his. George blinks. “Uhhhh” he trails off. Dream rolls his eyes. “I’m not doing it for ya George. You’re not conning me into it again!”

Sapnap’s voice echoes from the kitchen. “He’ll do it George! You know he’s too much of a simp to say no”

Dream jumps over the couch and runs at Sapnap. “Take that back idiot!” He says, bear hugging Sapnap and picking him up off the floor. George watches with an amused face, used to the two of them fighting. He knows Dream doesn’t like him like that. He watches as Dream tosses Sapnap onto the couch like a doll, his mind flashing to thoughts of how strong Dream must be, and what his muscles look like…..

His face flushes and he smacks his head lightly, ‘Stop thinking about him like that George! That’s your best friend!’ He says to himself internally.

But the thought is still in his head. ‘you two kissed already remember? And you liked it’ George internally yells at himself. It was New Year's Eve, and being high on exhilaration from finally being together and a bit tipsy on champagne, had resulted in a hug and soft peck that wasn't spoken of again. George didnt like thinking about that.

Eventually they get up, go through the routine, his thoughts spiraling like this rollercoaster him and Dream had gone on together, Dream’s arm wrapped around his waist for balance. ‘dammit george’

They eat dinner together like always. For some reason Fundy ends up calling Sapnap after, so it ends up being just George and Dream for a few hours. George keeps everything normal, talking about a chat he had with Puffy and Tommy and Wilbur’s latest stream, a reaction to an upcoming movie. It’s about ten when Dream gets up, motioning to his room. “Gonna go change” he says. George nods, denying his quickening pulse. It’s risky, what he wants to do, but they’re best friends, nothing could go wrong!

He sits and mulls for a while.He can hear Sapnap’s muffled conversation from his room, talking about some anime character or other, but he walks past his door, not chiming in. Instead he walks up to Dream’s door. His pulse is fast, faster then when he plays for MCC. Maybe not as fast as when he stepped out of Sapnap’s Tesla and saw Dream, the sun raining around his face and broad shoulders, making him look like a god, handsome and beautiful and…..

He ignores that thought, squares his shoulders, and pushes open Dream’s door. The heat hits him in the face first, Dream”s bathroom door open, steam billowing from it into the room. George swallows thickly. This feels different then his normal curiosity. But things with Dream have been different lately anyways.

He pushes all thoughts out of his mind and peers around the bathroom door. His best friend is standing in front of the mirror, fiddling with his phone, his hair wet. There's a towel around his shoulders. George follows down every line of muscles, making it down to his basketball shorts, where the edge of his boxers peek out. His face is red and his pulse is definitely faster then that first meeting now. His thoughts are racing so fast he can't even make out a coherent one except ‘whoa’

His eyes catch a twisted scar on Dream’s leg, and some nicks on his arms. He can't see his right shoulder yet, but he longs to.

And then Dream looks up.

‘god George you're such an idiot’ is what races through his mind at first then, ‘could my face get any redder?’ One glance in the mirror says that it can. He nervously meets Dream’s eyes.

“George?” He says, in a confused tone, turning to him.“Shit shit shit sorry Dream I just-” He cuts off seeing Dream’s right shoulder. He lets out a small gasp and steps forward, all thoughts of embarrassment rushing from his head, only focusing on the multitude of purple, and white parallel scars going down Dream’s shoulder to his forearm. A tentative finger reaches out and brushes along one.

“Dream?” He says softly. “What-?” Dream is the one to turn away this time, his hand reaching for his hoodie which is hanging in the back of the door. George catches his wrist, his small fingers encircling it.Dream’s eyes flick up to his. “George” his voice is small, sad, broken, “don't do this. It doesn't matter anymore, they're old, its-”

“That does matter!” George’s heart throbs with pain. His eyes flick across the scars, counting in his head. ‘twelve’ he notes. He sighs. He can't- can't just do that. His eyes were so pleading.

He sighs. “What's that one from?” He points at the scarred over gash on Dream's leg.

Dream blinks. “W-what? I thought you- umm I was geocaching and I fell into some quicksand. I was with my girlfriend and sister and I had to pull myself out alone cause they weren't there. A stick caught. Why are you-”

George cuts him off, ignoring the weird sting from Dream saying the word ‘girlfriend’ that can't be jealousy. Why would he be jealous of Dream having an ex girlfriend?

“And that one?” He says pointing towards what looks like a skinned knee that never healed.

Dream swallows. “Uh there was a spider in my car and I jumped out of it, but my sister was still in the car and I hadn't put it into park so it was rolling away” A faint smile crosses his lips. “I had to jump into the car and stop it. Skinned my knee real bad”

Before George can think, he reaches out and traces a small little pucker on Dream’s bare chest. He pulls back with a gasp as what he just did hit him. ‘Goddamnit George! Why are you acting like this??’

He puts on a small smile. “I- uh- what is that one from?”

He didn't notice that Dream’s muscles tensed up at his touch, that the taller man’s face had turned a slight shade of pink.

“Uh y’know those like little blowtorch things that you can make with a lighter and hairspray?”

George sighs. “Seriously?”

Dream cracks a small smile. “It was worth it! It was really cool!”

George's smile slowly turns back into a soft, but serious expression again. “And those?” he says, resisting the urge to trace all twelve of those white/purple lines.Dream fidgets with his hands before pushing past George to go sit on his bed. George's face heats up again as his shoulder brushes against Dream’s bare skin. He follows behind him, watching as Dream tosses his towel onto the floor and sits on his bed, head in his hands.

All George wants to do is put his arms around him, like they do all the time, but something is different now. “Look, Dream. Look at me?” He says softly. Dream raises his head. His eyes are red, bleary. George hadn't noticed before but Dream looked tired today. There's a faint faint laugh from Sapnap’s room. He must still be on call with Fundy. George gathers himself, his racing thoughts starting to evolve into a headache, and sits down next to Dream. “We can just sit for now? Okay?”

He says, making sure not to touch Dream, even though he badly wants to.

Dream nods, his wet hair flinging cold droplets all over George. George shivers as they hit his skin, but he shakes it off. “So- uh- I’m sorry I kinda barged in on you changing” He starts to say slowly. “Yeah why did you? Did you need something?” Dream says, raising his head out of his hands. His chest is still bare, and George flicks his eyes away quickly, realizing he’d been tracing his abs and v-line with his gaze. His face turns red again and he coughs to cover up a small sigh. “N-no I had just been realizing that, uh, you only ever wear long sleeve stuff, and I wanted to see why” he admits. “Sorry that’s weird”

Dream smiles softly. “You could’ve just asked. I would’ve told you.” His face falters. “Maybe. I don’t know. I trust you”

They sit there in silence. Dream’s leg bounces up and down rapidly and he fidgets with his hands. George doesn’t say anything. He knows it’s hard for him to sit still.

There’s a yell from outside.“GEORGE!” It’s Sapnap, bellowing from the living room. George glances at Dream again. “I- i should go see what he wants-” He says awkwardly. Dream looks down at his hands. “Yeah. I guess you should.”

He says quietly. George stands up and walks out, not looking back even though he wants to, so bad. His heart is breaking.

“What Sapnap?” He asks, stepping into the living room where Sapnap lounges on a couch with an X-box controller in his hands. Sapnap starts rambling on about how this game that he plays is coming out with an update and that’s why Fundy called him, and he’s gonna be so mad if they get rid of this one feature. George listens, fumbling with the chain around his neck that Dream had given to him ages ago. He still hadn’t taken it off. Sapnap breaks off and squints at his shirt.

“Why is your shirt wet? You didn’t take a shower” He states. George winces. “Oh, uh Dream took a shower. From his hair”

Sapnap pauses, then a grin spreads across his face. “God the media would kill to know that. DNF for life baby!” He says, pumping his fist into the air. George sighs.

“Are you kidding? That’s so old! We all know Dream doesn’t like me like that. We’re just….. best mates.” Those words tasted bitter as he said them, which was weird as hell. He doesn’t love Dream! Not like that!

Sapnap rolls his eyes. “Gogy, gogy, gogy.” He says, standing up and putting his hands on George’s shoulders. “He looks at you like you’re his whole universe. I love you man, and as much as I would complain about third-wheeling everything, god could you two just kiss already? Like holy shit guys c’mon! Y’all considered getting married!”

George’s face flames, though he doesn’t know if it’s anger or embarrassment. ‘Embarrassment? I don’t have anything to be embarrassed about’

“I-I mean yeah but that was only so i could get a visa- and” He’s fumbling words, trying to explain himself.

Sapnap sighs. “Go to him” Sapnap says dramatically, “Go to your dream man. Geddit? Dream, man?” He laughs. George rolls his eyes, his face aflame. “Real funny” he turns away from Sapnap and almost runs back down the hallway to Dream’s room.

“Dream?” He asks softly as he walks in. Dream is still sitting on his bed, but he had a white T-shirt on. ‘Which somehow makes him look even better then shirtless, and shut the hell up George.’

He shakes his head and sits next to Dream, his shoulder brushing his, which makes his whole body go hot again. ‘damnit George’

“Sorry about Sapnap he was talking about some game and-” George's voice cuts off as Dream thunks his head onto his shoulder. George lets out a little gasp. Which is so weird. ‘We used to be so close like that all the time. But now I can't stop seeing Dream….. differently. And shut up George this isn't about you!’

He balls his hands into fists, drums them on his legs for a few beats and makes up his mind. He slowly reaches up and slides Dream’s right shirt sleeve up. He definitely notices now that Dream’s muscles tense, and his breathing quickens. ‘that doesn't mean anything right? Just best mates’ He assures himself.

“I don't know what to say” He admits eventually.

Dream sighs, and raises his head up, and George falls into his eyes. He shakes his head and snaps himself out of his trance. Dream starts to talk. “Look, George.” He starts with, George's heart starting to pound in his ears, “those first few months after the face reveal were um…. rough.”

He pauses. “And I was kind of alone then. Sapnap was in England and I was just here. Alone.” His words start to get faster, more frantic. “And I got in my head and I didn't know what else to do and it was just over and over again-” George lightly traces the scars as Dream keeps rambling. “And I know it was stupid, so so damn stupid because I just am a stupid fucking clown that messes everyth-”

George kisses him.

And it's wonderful. Just a soft kiss. But it was George’s first kiss ever (that he counts) and he didn't expect it to be like this. It was soft and simple, but George could swear that he feels Dream lean into it a little, as Dream’s long curly hair brushes his face, as his nose touches his. He pulls back and sees something, something in Dream’s eyes.

His face flushes bright red, the reddest it's ever been, his neck and ears hot as he looks down at the ground. “Sorry” he mumbles. ‘why am I so stupid with emotions!? He obviously didn't want that I seriously just messed up’

“George…..” Dream says softly. George looks down at the ground, clenching his hands into fists in his lap. “S-sorry Dream it won't happen again I didn't mean to-”

And this time it's Dream that cuts him off.

This kiss is longer, a bit deeper, more intimate. George feels Dream’s hand wind itself around his neck and into his hair, holding his head in place. He can't believe this is happening and normally he'd be way overthinking this but his head, his head was empty. None of the worry or thoughts of anything.He tentatively puts his hand on Dream’s chest, feeling his warm skin through his T-shirt, the strength that Dream holds. It breaks off and George looks up, a bit out of breath.

“I- uh. How long have you-?”

Dream smiles, “Since the best friend quiz” he admits, scratching the back of his head. “Been wanting to do that for a while”

George starts to laugh. “Dreammmmm!!” He says. “Seriously!? I've been stressed about that for ages!” His voice turns a bit more serious. “But promise me something?”

There's a heartbeat of silence. “Yeah?” comes the reply.

“If you ever…… wanna do that again,” George’s hand slides up Dream’s arm, settling in the spot where his sleeve covers the scars, “talk to me?”

“The kissing? Cause I'll be talking to you all the time then?” Dream says with a mischievous smile. George turns red again and covers his face with his hands.

“Shut up. You know what I meant.”

Dream laughs. “Fine, fine. Yes. I promise Georgenotfound that I'll talk to him if I ever feel shitty again. That work?”

“It does” George says.

“God finally” says a voice from the doorway. Sapnap stands there, eating a bag of chips. George buries his face in his hands again as Dream lunges off the bed to slam the door shut in Sapnap's face. There's a muffled shout of indignation and “we gonna have to set some ground rules now!! Hands above the lap gentlemen” yelled through the door and some wild laughter as he walks off.

Dream fidgets again before he pulls George’s hands off his face, the cool metal of his ring brushing George’s fingers.

Dream looks a bit nervous, and George's brain goes into panic mode. “What?” He asks.

“No! No no no nothing's wrong sorry George” Dream says quickly. “I just uh had been writing a new song.”

George tilts his head. “Really?”

“Um yeah. So uh can I play it for you?” He looks like a nervous puppy afraid of the response.

“Of course!” George says, basically vibrating with excitement. He did love Dream’s music. It was like the only thing he listened to now. He even listened to it in the shower and- ‘now is not the time George’

Dream had got up and turned a dial on his speaker system, the one thing he spoiled himself with. Music comes through, soft at first, then growing.George takes Dream’s outstretched hands and stands, leaning his forehead against Dreams’.

🎶 “I can't breathe when you're not there, you're not there, you're not there. I can't sleep it's a nightmare” 🎶

[demonstars]

always (on my way)

ao3

3.8 k | Rated T

Tags: Red String of Fate — Freeform

for dnfweek: soulmates

There’s only two things George knows about his soulmate: that they’re from the other end of the Atlantic, and that they won’t know they have a soulmate, themselves. That George will have to tell them.

[thednfshiper]

Dnf Piratexmerman

A fic with this au

~ merman's tear (dreamnotfound) by bellsabee on wattpad and ao3

[dnfao3tags]

Hello! Was wondering if you could help me find a specific fic that I'm fairly certain has been deleted. George was a ceo and Dream was an escort and they meet at a business party. George at some point ends up hiring Dream to be his plus one for some event and things kind of go from there. That's all I can remember of the fic rn. I'm kicking myself because I used to have it bookmarked but deleted when the fic was taken down and now I can't remember title or author :(

sorry, i've been a bit busy! pretty sure you mean this one; it's not deleted

Fic Not Found / Was Found

— Dolce Far Niente by orphan_account (expl. | wip | 7k+)

George is a CEO and then mets an escort at a sex club.

[suenitos]

there was a really cute uni au where dream is trying to impress george who works in the library by checking out random books and gets trolled on yahoo answers when he asks for help and dinosaur facts on there but ah. it got deleted and also featured q so

[mahikamihan]

.

[memeswithdrms]

well if his able to finish editing ig so maybe tonight or tomorrow who knows

he sucks at deadlines 👎🏻

[i-hope-this-is-a-phase]

Me: man I’m craving a super specific type of fanfic with a certain dynamic

Me:…*checks Dizzy’s fics*

[dnf-library]

hi there :D if there was dnf one shot (?) from I think few months ago or last year (not sure if it was part of a collection) but here's what I remember

dnf i think knew each other (?) but i the tag was strangers to lovers (?) & they re met in walmart, im pretty sure & it was for either valentines or christmas when it happened.

it was a really sweet fic, but I can not remember who wrote it sadly & if it's still around :(

We couldn't find this either, sorry! Posting to see if anyone might know it.

[httpsserene]

Lando smut driveroom after hia dnf🫠🫠

𝐝𝐧𝐟 𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐫𝐚𝐩𝐲 - 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐠𝐫𝐢𝐝 𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐜𝐭𝐬

summary: what goes down in their driver’s room with you after a dnf. content warning: 18+ only. mdni. explicit sexual content. hurt/comfort (in a way). sexual propositions. angry sex (implied). depressed charles. mercedes f1 team slander. sir kink. periods. face-sitting, vaginal sex, masturbation, voyeurism, blowjobs, cunnilingus, shower sex (light or implied). pairing: the grid x fem!reader (1,4,16,44,55,81) genre: drabbles.

from serene: river baby, this one’s for you xxx we all know what inspired this one lmao !!! oh, i will not be doing extended fics for any of these, they are just quick drabbles as a little writing exercise for me! (okay, okay, okay, fine i’ll finish toasty part two i promise it'll be released soon)

⌕ join taglist | requests & feedback | table of contents ↻

𝐯𝐞𝐫𝐬𝐭𝐚𝐩𝐩𝐞𝐧, 𝐦𝐚𝐱 #𝟏

You’ve never found Max’s skill for talking endlessly annoying or draining. In fact, you can recall telling him that hearing him eagerly explain about racing or other topics that interest him is attractive, multiple times. However, you’re not sure if you can withstand much more of him rambling through a retelling of every single lap he raced before he had to retire, looking for any possible point where he could’ve done something different to prevent it. 

The two of you are sitting on his small couch, pressed side to side, and you’re offering small nods of agreement and hums of understanding during his pauses between words that echo in the small private room. His helmet was shoved in a random cubby, his balaclava draped on top of it but, he hasn’t made any other progress in taking off his race gear. His gloves are still covering his hands as he fiddles with the straps around his wrists, his race suit and boots still properly secured, the smell of sweat and gasoline–the scent of man alluring to your nose–the heat of his body radiating against your side instigating the warmth that floods your cheeks, and the sound of his lisp curling seductively around his speech prompting less than pure thoughts as your heart flutters and thighs press together.

Max is unaware of the sudden twist in your thoughts as he verbally attempts to calculate just exactly where he could’ve improved his outcome, his voice rumbly with an undertone of displeasure, when you cut him off.

“Let me make it better,” you offer.

The Dutch driver cocks his head at you, his expression confused and humored, “How can you make my DNF better? I do not think you can go back in time and—”

“No, Max,” you interrupt, teeth tugging at your bottom lip gently, “Let me sit on your face.”

Visibly, you see his breath catch and eyes widen. His mouth opens and closes as he tries to formulate a response, tongue flicking out to dampen his lips as he thinks—before his pupils blow large, and he swallows audibly.

“Oh,” Max starts, finally tugging his gloves off and tossing them to the floor, then moving to undo the strap of his race suit, “That would make it better.”

𝐧𝐨𝐫𝐫𝐢𝐬, 𝐥𝐚𝐧𝐝𝐨 #𝟒

He’s pacing the small length of the room angrily, ranting about his retirement loudly enough that you know it’s seeping through the thin walls. You stare at him with a slightly concerned gaze, getting slightly annoyed as his race suit tied low on his hips threatens to smack you in the face every time he turns around. 

You’re well aware that Lando is quick to anger and brood as he freely makes everyone aware of where the blame needs to be placed. But, the dark and unyielding look in his eyes leads you to believe that he’ll be a little too real to the press today and you would hate to have to deal with a simultaneously enraged and ashamed Lando once he realizes what he said. Then, you’ll have to comfort him as he overthinks his words and doom scrolls through Twitter to see what people are saying about him. You would like to sleep tonight, so you can’t have him embarrass himself today. Thankfully, Lando’s a man, a very simple man at his core. 

You stand up from the couch and pull off his hoodie that you stole. Lando continues to rage and pace, not aware of your movement. You undo the buttons of your shirt, shrugging it off to stand in your bra and jeans. Lando doesn’t notice your state of undress until he spins around to find you topless and shimmying your jeans down your hips.

“Um,” Lando stutters, eyes fixed on your tits, “Why are your clothes off?”

“Get over here and fuck your anger out,” you command, “So when you talk to the press, you don’t say the stupid shit you're telling me now.”

Lando mumbles and pouts offended as he scrambles to lose his race suit, “‘s not stupid shit.”

You roll your eyes and reach out to tug him forward strongly, humming as the length of his body knocks against yours, easily stuffing your hand down his fireproofs and kissing on the meat of his neck, “mhm–I’m sure it isn’t.”

𝐥𝐞𝐜𝐥𝐞𝐫𝐜, 𝐜𝐡𝐚𝐫𝐥𝐞𝐬 #𝟏𝟔

The room is silent as Charles blankly stares at the wall, you’re not sure if he is aware of your hand comfortingly scratching along his back. He only offered words of exhaustion and depression as he slipped quietly into his room and curled next to you as he dissociated from his retirement.

You’ve tried everything. You cooed soothingly, you complained about the result, and you even loudly expressed how terrible you think the car and Ferrari are and he didn’t say a single word. He simply continued to stare at the wall, his suit and helmet still on, visor down, and expression unreadable. Anxiously, you shifted next to him, not used to experiencing Charles this out of it. And suddenly, the idea came to you. Breaking the silence, you suggested giving him head to relieve his stress. Charles said no. Your brow furrowed perplexed at his denial; he’s never rejected a blowjob before. You took it one step further and offered to let him fuck it out of you (you were previously adamant on the “no sex in the driver’s room” rule because sound carries), and you were sure the Monegasque was about to say yes before he shook his head violently like he was forcibly removing the thought, and mumbled something along the lines of, “I don’t deserve it.” 

That is something you will not let slide. Charles doesn’t need to punish himself after he’s already out of the race, but if he won’t allow himself to indulge in you, you’ll strongly encourage him to.

“Okay, Charlie,” you whisper, “If you’re sure.”

He doesn’t zone back in until he hears your whimpers seep into the air, snapping his head to look at you. He finds you with one hand tugging at your nipple and your other hand shoved under your skirt—from the movement, he can guess that you’re two fingers deep. You hear Charles choke audibly and you can’t help but toss your head back and giggle, the laughter turning into a moan of pleasure as your fingers pass over a sensitive spot.

“I-I think–merde,” Charles cuts himself off as he stares at your show, “I think I’ve changed my mind.”

The helmet stays on.

𝐡𝐚𝐦𝐢𝐥𝐭𝐨𝐧, 𝐥𝐞𝐰𝐢𝐬 #𝟒𝟒

You’re unsure if Lewis is even mad about his retirement. The man seems mentally deranged as he laughs gleefully about ending his race early. Understandably, he is complaining about the bottoming of the car and the hell it’s wreaking on his back–so, maybe the joy is justifiable, your man is…older.

The thing is, Lewis switches from rambling about his back pain to complaining about Mercedes and repeating how he can’t wait for a change in scenery at Ferrari. In the Mercedes motorhome. Loudly. You know he’s doing it on purpose based on the vengeful look in his eyes. He recalls almost every single moment the team dismissed his critiques and suggestions, every single moment they didn’t appear at his podiums, every single moment they thought he wouldn’t leave, every single moment they took him for granted. And, Lewis is more than welcome to express his grievances—but you would still like him to leave on good terms as Toto did promise you a custom G-Wagon (not that Lewis can’t get you one himself; you would just hate to see him ruin his connections).

Lewis also can’t help being hot. He sits comfortably splayed out on his couch, a towel tied loosely on his hips from his shower, chest bare as beads of water fall downwards and get caught in the maze of his toned abdomen, his tattoos become art pieces as you appreciate the sight fully. He continues to partake in his amusing one-man conversation as he clasps his chain around his neck—and you break.

“Let me suck your dick,” you blurt out, cheeks flushing, surprised at your own words, “...sir?”

Lewis pauses, raising an eyebrow at you from where you’re leaning on the room door. 

“Well, I don’t know why you’re still standing over there if that’s what you want. Kneel.”

The sound of your knees hitting the floor sings in the air, “Yes, sir.”

𝐩𝐢𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐫𝐢, 𝐨𝐬𝐜𝐚𝐫 #𝟖𝟏

Oscar’s already sequestered himself away in his room before you were able to intercept him on his way. The mechanics are lowly gossiping about how mad he was when he pulled himself out of the car and they watch after you in fear as you make your way to your boyfriend.

Oscar? Mad? He’d never take it out on you, there’s no reason for the mechanics to be worried. Except when you enter the room, the vibes are peculiar. Oscar’s calmly folding his race suit, boots tucked away into their proper place, standing in just his fireproofs—they compliment his body well, extremely well. He turns to look at you and there’s a smile on his face as if he hasn’t retired from a race. He opens his arms for a hug, and you hesitate for a moment before fulfilling his request. His arms wrap around you warmly and he nuzzles his face into your hair, pulling back briefly to press a kiss on your forehead before tightening his embrace. It feels more like he’s comforting you than you’re comforting him. He walks the two of you backward to his couch and pulls you down to sit on his lap. 

Somehow, Oscar brightens more, “Hi, baby,” he grins, hands moving to fiddle with the hem of your shirt.

“Uhh, I’m sorry about your race?” Your tone of voice is unsure.

“Oh,” he laughs dismissively, “It happens sometimes–it was listed in the job description.” His right hand slips underneath your shirt as he speaks, moving calmly to tug the cups of your bra down underneath your chest, squeezing lightly at the plush weight in his hand. 

You’re convinced he’s severely concussed, but it doesn’t stop you from arching towards him, your hips rolling forward unconsciously, “Ummm— ‘s there a-anything I can do to help?”

Oscar’s hand draws out of your shirt and halts the grind of your hips in a flash, he coos at you, “Aw, that’s so sweet of you to offer…let me fuck your tits—please?”

What were you going to do, tell him no?

𝐬𝐚𝐢𝐧𝐳 𝐣𝐫, 𝐜𝐚𝐫𝐥𝐨𝐬 #𝟓𝟓

You’re going to slam your head on the corner of the sink and hope it knocks you out. You’ll do it if means the sounds of Carlos’ whining stop. He forcibly pulled you up on the counter of the sink and told you to stay put as he showered so he could talk it out to you.

Naively, you thought the sound of the shower running would muffle his words and you were wrong. On any other day, you would be fine to support him through his complaints but your period is due to start in a couple of days and the irritation and sore muscles are already affecting you. Originally, you were eager to watch Carlos shower—that’s a sight plenty of women and men alike would kill you for. Then, the glass fogged with steam depriving you of something to ogle. And, if there’s one thing a woman is experiencing besides pain, sensitivity, and anger before her period, it’s being horny. You rationalize your thought process as you get undressed; Carlos gets some stress relief and you get to hear moans and grunts of pleasure instead of his huffing, grumbling, and whining. 

You slide the glass door open and closed as you step in the shower, completely bare except for the necklaces, earrings, and anklet with the #55 charm he gifted you randomly, “Carlos, por favor, be quiet.”

The Spanish man’s mouth is agape as he stares at you, frozen in the middle of his motion of scrubbing soap along his arm, “¿Qué?”

You roll your eyes, tugging the soapy cloth out of his hand and setting it on the shower shelf, “There’s better things you could be doing with your mouth.”

Carlos blinks, returning to the present and sinking to his knees in the too-small shower. 

He stares up at you with his big, sweet, lust-drenched, brown eyes, his hair a mess from the spray of the shower, and his voice cracking as he speaks, “Yes, definitely.”

© httpsserene2024

[lesbosaur1]

Chapter Seven Poll

Okay so Chapter six has been completed on my DNF Fic, "Scars" and I want to say thank you to my friends and mutuals for helping me and getting me to 289 hits! However I am stuck on chapter seven

[bunnys-kisses]

the dnf club (vol. 1)

carlos sainz jr.

tags: smut/pwp, brazil gp '24, praise kink, hair pulling/playing, cowgirl position, spanish speaking!reader, affection

a/n: five dnfs at the brazil gp! i feel honestly so bad for them! it's nothing a little smutty fan fic won't fix! so welcome readers to the dnf club <3

franco edition // alex edition // lance edition // nico edition

"carlos." you said as you took your lover's hand and leaned in to him. he got out of your hand and wrapped his strong arm around you. by instinct you placed your hand on his chest and looked at him, "i'm sorry."

victory last week turned into a dnf this week. and you knew that the odds of him taking home the wdc were next to none. he still wanted his last few races with ferrari to be special. so every mishap hit harder.

he held you by the small of your back and silently kissed your cheek. and you knew what you had to do when you got back to the hotel that night.

you got to the hotel before he did. he had to sit through press and try to keep a grasp on sanity before he could slink back to the hotel room. you had dinner ideas for him to help soften the blow of the results.

dressed in one of his t-shirts that hung a little loose around the shoulders, and wasn't long enough to obscure your bright blue panties. you had your hair pushed back with a fabric headband with cat ears on them. it wasn't the ideal sex goddess look, but it was comfortable enough while you started to pack up for the trip to las vegas.

the door to the hotel room opened and you greeted your lover. but you were soon met with his weight against you. his size pressed against you almost had you toppled over onto the bed. you managed to lie down on it gently instead of a full faceplant.

"how are you, honey?"

he mumbled something in spanish, he wrapped his strong arms around and kicked off his sneakers before he dragged you into bed. the words in his first language continued. you pouted at them, you spoke spanish quite well and were able to easily pick up on what he was saying.

"it should've been better." "i should've been better." "i'm sorry, my love." and the one that curled in your stomach was, "i need to be with you. need to feel you."

his large hands climbed up under your shirt and you did him the favor to take it off all together. his lips found your heated skin and his hands rested at your sides as you both were tumbled into bed together. the covers kicked to the bottom as his hands then got to the waist of your shorts and pulled them down. "i need you." he said.

you ran your fingers through his dark hair, you could tell the hungry expression that crossed his face. how he looked at you, the kind of gaze that made you take control. he'd be good for you as repayment for such a failure on the track.

repentance.

you got on top of him in just your bra and panties. your hands splayed across his chest as you looked down at him. heat heavy in your cheeks as you said, "let's get you out of all of this. you don't need to wear ferrari, not when it's just you and i." you leaned in as you pulled his t-shirt up, "you can wear my kisses instead." then got the shirt up over his head.

he chuckled lowly, "i'll wear your kisses forever."

you stripped him the covered his face in kisses. you felt your affection towards him grew. the thump in your chest and you admired his nude body. you looked at him with love and continued to move against him. you teased his cock a little. he shuddered with want and when you pulled his thick hair a little, he moaned.

"you're so good for me, carlos. always have and always will be. you'll get them next time." you said as you sank down on his cock.

he moaned and held onto your hips as you started to move up and down. you never took his cock out of your sweet pussy but your movements still made carlos feel the shudder of excitement run through him. he whined, "i want to make you proud."

you replied, "you always do, carlos. even when you dnf, i still feel so proud of you. you're the best man for the job and whatever team you're on, you'll race them to victory." you yanked his hair a little more as you rode him. you wanted him to feel better, more confident. you hated when he beat himself up and wanted to do everything in your power to make sure that he was okay.

and that meant riding him. taking his cock so well that that he forgot all about the race. you pulled on his hair a little more as you moved against his cock. you rode him and he held onto your sweet hips.

"please." he panted, "it feels so good. i love you."

you giggled in response, you kissed his jaw and replied, "i love you too. anything for you, my love. you do so well, might as well get some loving in there as well. make you feel good despite the loss." you captured his lips once more and the two of you moaned against one another.

the movements picked up pace and you held onto his dark hair a little tighter. you feel the throb in your chest as the pleasure curled in your gut. you could feel the tension in your thighs from your movements, but kept going.

carlos knew he was lucky to have you. beyond lucky, the type of luck that allowed him to get onto the ferrari team. whatever higher power was looking down on him. gave him his two wishes, to race in formula one and to find a woman who he could love forever. and would love him too.

you pulled away from the kiss and looked down at him. you cupped his face for a moment, you spoke to him in spanish, "you did so good today. i know you think it was a failure. but." you kissed him on the face, "you raced beautifully. you always race beautifully." then quickened your kisses across his face.

he blushed a little bit and replied, "i always race for you. you fuel my soul." carlos loved you, obsessed with you in certain ways. but not in a way that cruel or hurtful. if he got to be by your side at any occasion, he would take it.

that was why he wanted to make you proud.

the kisses continued, they grew heavier with the more you moved. carlos' hands explored your sides, it made you shudder with want. it was incredibly hot between you two. the air of the hotel bedroom grew and you felt sweat down your back.

even with the kiss broke, you gazed into his dark eyes and your pace onto quickened. you laid chest to chest with him and moved his head by his hair to kiss him deeply on the lips. he moaned into it. you couldn't get enough of him. it was a deep need you had in your soul for him.

and he carried the same feeling for you. he groaned, "i love you. so much." he groaned through a tense jaw as you went as fast as you could go.

you could feel the strain on your back from the position and simply over doing it. but you didn't care. not at that moment. you only wanted to feel good. and the promise of immense pleasure for the both of you kept your hips moving in a way that made the both of you only get louder.

you were thankful that the headboard was sturdy enough to not slam against the wall, you didn't want that noise complaint come morning. carlos took you by the back of the head and kissed you deeply on the lips as he felt the course of pleasure through him.

it was undeniable, the heat between you two. it always had been and as the kisses got heavier, your pace got messier. and soon the feeling became overwhelming. and you tensed up around your lover, hands in his hair as you gave it on last tug before you came around his cock.

he groaned and held onto your hips once more, he moved you up and down his cock. your praise was loose on your lips as you told him how amazing he was, and how much you loved him. that your heart raced for him and you yearned for him. his pleasure with yours. he couldn't hold out much longer and with a few more strokes of his cock he pushed all the way inside of you and finished.

both exhausted, you laid on top of him. your hands on him as you tried to compose yourself. and instead of your hands in his hair. his hand was in your hair. he wasn't rough with his touches however, instead lightly stroking your strands as you laid curled up in one another.

you looked up at him and said softly, "next week will be your week."

and carlos smiled as he leaned down to kiss on the forehead, "it'll be our week."

come the next week in las vegas. carlos had a renewed sense of confidence. this would be his race to win, he'd make you proud and end the season on a high note. when the lights went down, it was show time. and carlos knew that he could get another victory. <3

[thednfshiper]

Dnf mafia au (pt 1)

Written by me :)

[dnfao3tags]

hi this is going to be a bit difficult because i only remember a specific part of this fic - but it has a scene where dream passed out on george in the kitchen, and dream was all nonchalant about it and sapnap knew what was going on while george didn’t - so he was confused and asked sapnap about it and sapnap explained that dream just gets like this when his anxiety is bad (it’s not an au, george was already in florida, im pretty sure it was written in 2023, and im debating whether it was fwb or just friends to lovers)

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