#fave x reader

[truedove]

midnight caller

word count - 994

content warning - smut (minors dni), f!reader insert, pervy behavior, extremely dubious consent, somnophilia, frottage

♡ your best friend's pervy older brother who's eyes always seem to bore into you whenever you come over to their house. you always make sure to forgo the pretty skirts and dresses you have in your closet, instead opting for the most baggy jeans and sweatshirts you can find.

♡ your best friend's pervy older brother who constantly invades your personal space, pressing up against you in the most inappropriate ways. you've grown accustomed to the feeling of his breath on your neck whenever he stands too close, the way his hands seem to linger just a little too long on your shoulders or hips when he guides you out of his way.

♡ your best friend's pervy older brother who never misses an opportunity to tease you until you're red in the face. he has a way of making even the most innocent comments sound dirty. when he's not doing that, he's trying to get you alone. always asking you to help him 'study' even though you know he's top of his class. it's a thin excuse to get you into his room, where he can finally have you all to himself.

♡ your best friend's pervy older brother who takes to jerking off to the innocent selfies he's found of you on your social media. he envisions all of the ways he could touch you, ruin you. he pretends the tight grip of his hand is your mouth instead, imagines how pretty you'd look on your knees for him, petal soft lips stretched around his cock as you look up at him with those wide, trusting eyes of yours.

♡ your best friend's pervy older brother who sneaks into the room one night during your sleepover, his sister fast asleep next to you. he makes his way over to your side of the bed and carefully climbs in beside you, pressing his aching cock against your bottom and relieving some of the pressure. he's never had you this close before, all of his attempts being thwarted by your iron-clad will to deny him. not tonight though.

his free hand make its way under your nightshirt and he revels in the feel of your soft skin, the warmth that emanates from your body. he's waited so long for this and he wants to savor it, take his time in exploring every inch of you, learning all of the ways he can make you feel good - he truly does - but he's also itching to just finally have you. with a hushed groan, he tentatively begins to rut against you, harsh pants dampening the crook of your neck. his hand wanders from underneath your shirt to inside your panties and he feels a rush of triumph when his fingers find you warm and wet. he should feel guilty, violating you like this, but it's not like he was hurting you, right? you're so wet for him and whether you wanted to admit it or not, he knows that you want him too. you were a bashful little thing, always playing so hard to get. the only way that this was ever going to happen was if he took some initiative. he strokes your clit lightly, feeling it pulse under his touch and you stir slightly in your sleep. your body responds to his touch, betraying your feigned innocence and his cock twitches in anticipation, pressing more insistently against your backside. the pressure builds and his rutting grows clumsy, erratic, his fingers faltering momentarily before he finds his rhythm once more, determined to make you come for him. so caught up as he is, he doesn't notice your eyes slowly opening, the haze of sleep dissipating as the realization of what's happening sets in. your body twitches under his touch before tightening as pleasure overwhelms you. you fail to stifle your whimpers and a hand shoots up to cover your mouth, the grip firm, just teetering on the edge of painful. a chuckle rumbles from his chest, vibrating against your back. "shh, shh, shh." he hushes you, a certain lilt to his tone that makes it sound like he's amused. "it's alright, sweetheart. just relax." your eyes are wide with shock, the sight of your friend’s resting face just a few inches away from you rising a fierce blush to your cheeks. he continues to grind against you and against your better judgement - you let him. a low groan tickles your ears when he comes, his body tensing for a brief moment before going slack. his grip on you remains firm as he catches his breath, heaving heavily. you’re having a hard time processing what just happened. your heart races in your chest, the sound of it an uneasy accompaniment to the siblings contrast in breaths. one steady and peaceful, the other ragged and heavy with satisfaction. a kiss pressed to your temple catches you by surprise, gentle and warm, affectionate. he seems to have no plans of moving at all, hand still nestled between your thighs and his gentle petting causes you to shudder. your eyes shut of their own accord - you have so many emotions swirling inside you. anger, confusion, lingering desire, weariness. the weight of his body against yours is comforting in a backwards sort of way, and you find yourself relaxing back into the warmth of his touch, the solidity of his form. "hm, that's it. get some sleep, pretty girl." he coos, his voice low and saited, before trailing off into a yawn. you try to fight your own fatigue, but soon feel the warmth of sleep creeping up on you once more, your eyes growing heavy. the next morning, he'll be gone from the bed. your clothes will be righted but your panties still uncomfortably soaked through. and when he pulls you into his lap - his sister none the wiser as she scarfs down breakfast in the dining room - you don't protest that time.

[bnuyy2]

The First Snow

Gn! Reader x Masc! Fave

Synopsis: Your lover wakes to find the bed cold. He doesn't need to look long to find you seated at the window sill watching as the world goes white.

Word Count: 641

Warnings: fluff, domesticity, no pronouns for reader

Note: this is really short and just came to me as i was falling asleep like idk where this came from anyways i wrote this with many characters in mind, particularly the ones who are a little grumpy and jaded but so full of love 🩵

Something had woken you out of your sleep, and you opened your eyes to face the window.

It took you a moment to realise the brightness did not come from the sun rising at 1 o’clock in the morning, but from the street lights illuminating the sparkling snow layered on nearly every surface. You are careful not to wake your lover as you raise yourself from the bed and pad over to the scene, seating yourself on the wide windowsill to watch the cascading bits of fluff up close.

You had only meant to be away from bed for a moment, but you were thoroughly captivated and stuck in place. It took just a few minutes for the man you’d left behind to begin unconsciously searching for your warmth, scooching his body closer to your side and reaching out his arm.

When he realises there is none to find, he begrudgingly opens an eye in search of you, and finds your form sitting entirely too far away from him. He quietly grunts your name which coaxes a hum from you, but you don't face him.

"Come back to me," He mumbles, his eye drifting closed again as he awaits what he hopes will be your swift return to his side.

"In a minute," You respond, and there is no way he can sleep now.

He sighs, lifting himself from the mattress and trudging over to the ledge where you sit pressed against the cool glass, pulling close a chair to sit by you. Now you turn your attention to him and smile.

His hair is tousled in a way that only you are allowed to see, and though he would never admit it, his mouth has formed a pout. You reach your hand out to caress his cheek, and your smile grows as he snuggles his face into your palm, his stubble mildly abrasive on your skin.

"It's snowing," You quietly point out, and he nods. Only you thought in his exhaustion he wouldn't have noticed.

"Hurts my eyes," He mumbles, and you can feel his lips move against your hand, supple and warm. The brightness of the snow would surely sting eyes just woken from sleep.

You lean down and kiss his eyelids to soothe the ache, and he huffs a sigh from deep in his chest. When you straighten up again, you see the corners of his mouth have lifted a bit into a small grin.

"It looks lovely though," You reason, turning your eyes back towards the window.

He watches you, the shirt you slept in slipping to expose more of your shoulder. He sees the content look of your glowing face and your eyes sparkling with wonder.

"Yes. Very lovely."

Eventually he does move his gaze from you to the rest of the world, watching the first glimpse of winter.

From this, he sees roads made more difficult, a driveway that will need shovelling, and skin chapped with cold, and he doesn't doubt you are aware of those things as well.

What he loves about you is the space you make for beauty, letting your appreciation for it cushion you from whatever hurts may come. He has begun to learn to do so through you, his greatest beauty.

He will carry your sweet concerned voice in his mind as he drives with care and let you fret over his large frozen hands when he comes inside, frantically rubbing them between your own in an attempt to warm them before you go to fix him a hot drink. He also loves to see how your eyelashes catch the frost, and the endearing traditions you indulge in for the season.

"My love," You whisper. He had fallen asleep with his head on your thigh. You pat his hair down as you watch him shift at the sound of your voice.

"Let's go to bed."

You rise from the window sill and he lets you take his hand to return to each other's arms. There will be time enough to experience the pains and joys of winter in the morning.

[leons-lady]

IF THE READER INSERT HAS A NAME IN PLACE OF Y/N, _____, (YOUR NAME), GENDER NEUTRAL PET NAMES

THAT IS NOT A READER INSERT, THAT'S A FULL OC YOU'RE WRITING. TAG IT AS SUCH. STOP THROWING ME OFF. I WILL AVOID READING IT.

IF YOU DON'T LIKE READER INSERTS PERIOD, DON'T FORCE YOURSELF TO WRITE ONE OR READ ONE. MAKE YOUR OC X CANON STORY AND DON'T LISTEN TO NEGATIVE COMMENTS. DO WHAT YOU LOVE. JUST TAG IT PROPERLY FOR GODDAMN SAKE.

[gluttonousgirls]

men who need consistent consent. men who push you into the bed and ask you “you like that? yeah? yeah, baby, you like that, baby?” I’m dead. bonus points if he pushes you but not with ALL his weight…

god

[what-the-stories-have-foretold]

1st Day: At Home with You

Furuya x gn!Reader x Akai, Your Fave x gn!Reader

Advent Event

Warnings: none

Navi

Wordcount: each about ~200/300

„I cannot believe you started without me,” Furuya sighed, arms crossed as he glared at Akai. Akai only grinned from his spot laying on the couch, pressing your sleeping form even closer to his chest and placing a kiss on your cheek for good measure.

“Jealous?”

Furuya scoffed. “You wish.” Then, his gaze fell on you and immediately his eyes softened.

“How long have they been asleep?”

Akai leaned back to stretch his back, careful not to disturb you.

“Half an hour? They fell asleep almost immediately. I think planning everything for the celebration at the Kudō´s was more exhausting than anticipated.”

Furuya hummed and set down a bag on the couch table. Curious, Akai leaned forward.

“Did you get everything?”

“Of course I did, I even got an additional little something to give to (Y/N).” Feeling victorious, Furuya smirked at the sniper. A quiet laugh escaped Akai.

“You say that as if I haven´t already prepared a surprise myself. Might wanna up your game, Rei.”

Furuya clicked his tongue at the sound of his first name, but he didn't say anything. He only rolled up his sleeves.

“You two haven´t had dinner yet, have you?”

Akai´s lips stretched out into a smile.

“You gonna cook for us? Fuck yeah,” he rasped, pressing a kiss to the top of your head. “You hear that, sweetheart?”

You mumbled something incomprehensible into his chest, making both men chuckle.

“Ah, what am I going to do with you?” Furuya sighed as he leaned down to press a kiss to your temple. You only sighed in your sleep, and he drew back, looking fondly down at your sleeping form. He had to admit, you did look pretty in his rival´s arms.

It smelled like cookies in the apartment. Nutmeg and cinnamon and cardamon. A blues played from the radio as you and your love swayed before the stove. There was flour on their nose and colouring on their cheek, but your gaze was drawn to their eyes – so obviously content, your heart couldn´t help but ache with happiness and love. There were no words spoken, no hushed whispers in the warm air drenched in the smell of cookies, yet your eyes shared all that you felt for them and all the future winter nights you knew you'd spend in their arms.

But in their eyes, the way you looked at them perfected their happiness. It sent their heart racing and made the hairs on their arms stand up. Swaying with you to slow melodies – spending cold nights in your warmth – that was what, in the end, made life worth living.

[httpsserene]

𝐦𝐚𝐦𝐚 𝐲 𝐩𝐚𝐩𝐚 - 𝐥𝐧. 𝟒 (& 𝐨𝐩. 𝟖𝟏)

summary: you and lando are blessed with a beautiful baby boy. content warning: fluff, humor, slightly suggestive at times, and mainly crack/shitpost energy. reader owns & works in her bakery in monaco. images used are not mine. pairing: lando norris x fem!black!reader (& platonic oscar pastry) genre: smau & written fic combination (it's a longgg one)

author's notes: y'all i'm warning you i took it too far this time. it's long aslllll. but it might be the best thing i've ever offered to f1 tumblr in my entire career.

grab a snack, drink, and tuck yourself into a comfortable position xxx

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

imessage • preseason 2023

That’s how you find yourself outside of the MTC in the mid-morning two days later. You’re mildly…exhausted, after commandeering the kitchen in Lando’s Silverstone flat to make a sickening amount of banana bread to feed all of McLaren. After tipping your Uber to the MTC double what the ride costs (for allowing you to stuff his car with a hundred pounds of your decadent treat and helping you unload them into the lobby), you’re greeted with warm welcomes and hungry eyes from the staff. Eager to eat, they’re quick to find you a couple of carts to help you move all the banana bread to the communal area. You’re walking backward to make sure none of your sliced loaves fall, smiling with all the workers as they follow you through the building. Setting up shop, you hand out your sliced banana bread, chatting and catching up with everyone as they sing praises over your sweet treat. Word travels around the MTC quickly when it comes to you bringing baked goods and it comes as no surprise to you when you see a perplexed and overwhelmed Oscar Piastri join the line. You’re bursting with excitement and anticipation by the time he’s picking up his slice.

“Thank you for the banana bread,” Oscar expresses softly, his smile boxy.

“Oh, of course,” you dismiss his gratitude lightly, struggling to keep your cuteness aggression at bay, “I’ve been doing this for the factory since Lando joined–and I figured it would be a good welcoming gift for you!”

“Wait–are you Lando’s girlfriend?” Oscar chokes on his bite of bread.

You rush forward to pat his back, ordering for someone to get him a glass of water; you would hate to be responsible for the death of Mclaren’s rookie driver. When his airways are cleared, you exchange proper greetings and you are quick to make sure Lando has been treating him well. 

“Honestly, I should’ve known it was you” Oscar chuckles, “Lando cannot stop talking about you. Zak had to establish a rule that only allowed him to mention you two times an hour.”

“That must have been rough for him,” you snort dryly, “the rule was five times an hour last year. Anyways, Oscar���who do you main on Mario Kart? This could make or break our friendship.”

You find yourself enamored with Oscar as the conversation goes on. He stands and keeps you company as you continue to hand out banana bread. It’s mostly you doing the talking; Oscar’s quiet, a man of few words but he listens well. He has a sarcastic sense of humor that is similar to Lando’s yet completely different: Lando’s jokes are loud, Oscar’s are hushed. He’s humble, shy even, flustering when you lightly tease him. You’re well past having Oscar as your friend—you’re convinced that he’s achieved little brother or son status.

“Banana Bread!” Zak shouts as he walks up to the two of you, Lando at his side, “Please tell me this is your homemade version?”

“I would never settle for store-bought banana bread,” you gasp dramatically, “It’s homemade as always, Zak. This time I did my grandmother’s recipe instead of my own.”

The CEO practically jumps with glee and rushes to grab a couple of slices–he’s only had this version of the dessert once, and swore it changed his life. Lando walks to you, pressing a kiss to your temple before nodding at Oscar.

“What do you think, love, “Lando hums to you softly, “Did he pass the test?”

You blink up at him and whisper, “I invited him over for dinner tonight—do you think we can use one of the printers here to print out adoption forms?”

bahrain • 2023

After qualifying, it felt like you and Zak were the only people in the garage who remained optimistic for race day. Lando was less than pleased with placing 11th; he parroted words of positivity and hope for improvement but in the privacy of your hotel room he crumbled. He buried his face in your neck muffling just how low his expectations for this season are. You tried to convince him it was too early in the season—the first race weekend—to make that decision but, he was too in his feelings to see reason. 

Oscar was disappointed in himself for placing 18th. When he took off his helmet after returning to the garage, you could see the doubt in his skills lingering through his eyes. You pulled him to sit with you as you continued to wait for the second session to begin and gently reassured him that this wasn’t an accurate representation of his skills; Formula One is a massive change from Formula Two. Oscar nodded at your reassurance but you could tell he was still freshly in shock at his “terrible” performance so your logical advice wasn’t believed. 

On race day, however, you found your positivity dip as well. Oscar DNF’d on lap 13 and rage filled the spot that optimism used to inhabit. The Australian was handling his retirement better than you were; he brushed off everybody’s apologies and went straight to reviewing his data and watching Lando’s race—you, however, wanted to snap at any of his mechanics that walked by. It wasn’t like Lando’s race was any better if you could call what he was doing a race. Slow pit stops, six pit stops at that, the fast lap gamble failure, finishing last, and being two laps down from the race leader…Zak took one glance at you and quickly made himself scarce.

You rode back with both of the boys to the hotel and nearly cried for them with how down the mood was. On the walk to your rooms, Oscar attempted to exchange goodbyes with you and Lando before you cut him off.

“Uh-uh, nope,” you shook your head, “I pre-ordered dinner for us. Come eat?”

Oscar stuttered, “O-oh? I don’t want to intrude–”

“Oscar Jack Piastri,” both he and Lando winced at the sound of his full name, “I’m not going to let either one of you go to bed on an empty stomach. You’re going to eat dinner with me and Lan and you’re going to drink several glasses of water so I can make sure you’re properly rehydrated. Understood?”

“I would love to have dinner with you guys,” Oscar blinked at you in fear, “Also, how do you know my middle name?”

You laughed as you unlocked the door, holding it open for both of the boys as you walked in, “I had a wonderful conversation with your mother, of course.”

“When did you meet my mom?!”

australia • 2023

You were on the edge of losing your voice as you screamed and cheered with Nicole Piastri and Adam Norris for both of the McLaren boys and their double points finishes. The two drivers finishing in the midfield felt like the team had figured something out for Oscar’s home race (if you ignored how almost half of the drivers retired their cars). The Piastri’s invited everyone to a local restaurant to celebrate Oscar’s first points in Formula One, but before you and Lando headed out, the two of you nearly lost your minds.

The two of you forced him to pose with his car and take several pictures with it, strongly suggesting that he smiles big and wide for the camera. Fernando and Lewis walked by and burst into laughter, claiming that you and Lando were treating Oscar like a child. So, obviously, the two of you committed to the bit. You guys cooed and called Oscar’s name, clapping and jumping to pretend like he was a toddler whose attention needed to be grabbed to have him look at the camera. The rookie cringed in embarrassment, cheeks burning red as he tried to convince you guys to stop making a fuss over him.

Lando gasped, sickened at Oscar’s words, “Oscar! How could you say such a thing to your mother and me? We only want to celebrate our boy!”

You nodded furiously in agreement, nearly breaking character at the dumbfounded look that rose to the Australian’s face.

“What the fuck,” Oscar blurted out, yet he continued to smile for your camera.

“Oh my god!” You said appalled, “Lando did you teach our son that foul language?! I told you not to curse in front of the baby!”

instagram • bakewithyn • april 6th • melbourne ⚑

liked by, oscarpiastri, landonorris, mclaren, markwebber, and 413,257 others

bakewithyn: happy birthday oscar 🥳 there’s no birthday gift like scoring your FIRST EVER POINTS in f1 at your HOME race but !!! i’m super happyyy you enjoyed the 🐨 cookies i made for you (lando helped ig 😐) 🤗🤗🤗

tagged oscarpiastri

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📌 yninstagram ps! these are limited edition cookies at my bakery for oscar piastri day!!! first come first serve until sell out! all proceeds go to the australian koala foundation as it was oscar’s personal request 😇

➥ user charitable king shit fr 👑

➥ user FUCK i wish i was rich enough to visit/live in monaco

➥ user don't worry, they're nearly sold out already and the bakery opened three hours ago !!!!

nicolepiastri these were so tasty! i wish i had your baking skills

➥ yninstagram tysm mama piastri !!! i'm blushing

➥ user mama piastri???? im crying

user the koala photo with the bow 😩

➥user what r u talking about?? i only see a picture of oscar with a bow?

➥ user fr i only see oscar 😵‍💫

user "lando helped ig" what did he do? look pretty the entire time you baked LMAO

➥ landonorris actually i was allowed to put the ingredients in the bowls AND preheat the oven too 😤

➥ landonorris and i always look pretty wtf

➥ user omg...yn gave him the toddler tasks 💀💀💀

oscarpiastri the cookies were so good! they nearly tasted better than my first points felt

➥ yninstagram omg high praise from the man himself 🤯

➥ oscarpiastri had to fight my sisters to make sure they didn't only leave me with crumbs

➥ user oh i understand that eldest sibling battle

➥ user my little sisters bite i think they have rabies

➥ user oh what a shame. euthanasia is an option 🤗

miami • 2023

The energy after Miami was rightfully terrible. The car is shit; Lando lost a position from where he qualified to make him P17 and Oscar maintained his P19. It’s hot, and humid, and everyone in the garage is miserable. McLaren is a family. When the boys don’t do good, everybody understands and feels their pain. Nobody likes seeing the boys with frowns on their lips and sadness in their eyes, but it’s becoming a usual appearance during this season. So to turn those frowns upside down, you went on a hunt for some cold treats. You got Lando a frozen lemonade and Oscar an ice cream sandwich—it’s a safe choice, you hadn’t necessarily thought about asking him what kind of ice cream he prefers. 

You found Oscar staring at the wall, eyes focused forward but his mind somewhere else. You tapped him gently on the shoulder, offering him a small smile when he looked at you. He tried to offer you a smile of his own but couldn’t manage to hold it for more than a couple seconds. You presented the ice cream sandwich to him and he looked at you in surprise, as if he couldn’t believe you would give it to him.

“F-for,” his voice cracks awkwardly, “For me?”

You hummed, ruffling his hair and taking a seat on the couch next to him, “No, for the King of England. Yes–for you Oscar.”

He thanked you shyly and quickly began to unwrap the packaging, munching away happily. You took a second to text Lando your location and inform him of the frozen lemonade waiting for him, and when you turned to look back at Oscar—the kid was a mess. He wasn’t even a quarter of the way through the dessert sandwich and you’re convinced he managed to spill more of it than he ingested. The ice cream was painted across the lower half of his face and dripping down his hands–you caught a drop of it with a napkin before it fell and stained his shirt.

“Jesus, Oscar!” you scolded him, “I look away for two seconds and you make a mess!”

Oscar shrugged at you, feigning innocence, but you saw the staple redness of embarrassment begin to tint his chubby cheeks. You snapped your fingers in remembrance before you moved to rifle through your purse, Oscar staring at you with wide eyes as he continued to snack away. You exclaimed in delight, showing off a pair of wet wipes you remembered to bring with you. Oscar accepted the offered wipes and you watched carefully to make sure he removed all the smudges of ice cream from his hands and face.

“Hi, lovely girl,” Lando approached you, throwing himself onto the sofa next to you. He gave you a soft kiss on the lips and temple before grabbing his now lemonade slushy and taking a look at Oscar.

“Woah, mate,” Lando teased, “Did you lose in a fight against the ice cream sandwich?”

Oscar rolled his eyes and ignored Lando as he finished cleaning up. Once he was done, you gathered all of the dirty wipes on the table to be thrown away. You and Lando both watched Oscar as he ate the rest of his snack in fear of another mess occurring—and, then you had a bright idea. Leaning forward, you took a dry napkin and tucked it into the collar of his McLaren polo, creating a makeshift bib. 

“Lando, remind me to get our son ice cream in a cup from now on!”

twitter • may 14th

instagram • landonorris • may 23rd • monte carlo ⚑

liked by, bakewithyn, charlesleclerc, fernandoalonso, and 502,113 others

landonorris: does it still count as a date night if your boy and his best friend are building legos in the next room🤨

tagged bakewithyn, oscarpiastri, logansargeant

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user "your boy" WTF DOES THAT MEAN ‼️‼️‼️

user they're building legos before the race weekend starts 🤧

user has oscar been staying with lando since last week?

➥ user i thought he was just sleeping over for one night 🧐

adamnorris does this make me a grandfather?

➥ user what the hell is happening

➥ landonorris um? surprise haha 😀

bakewithyn it's a great date night! it's comforting knowing ozzy's in the next room over

➥ bakewithyn i have separation anxiety :)

➥ landonorris me too omg this was my best idea ever

➥ user this is like a reverse 13th reason- it's like my 1st reason i'm glad to be alive

➥ user ozzy 🫠

landonorris logan and osc just went silent. chat, should i be worried?

➥ user i'll bet my life savings that one of them has a lego shoved up their nose 😬

➥ user when kids go quiet it's never good !!!!

qatar • 2023

You cried an embarrassing amount of times this weekend. Your son won his first sprint race in his Formula One career, and his father—your boyfriend—was up there on the podium with him to celebrate. It seems like you have to make another special dessert for your bakery to celebrate both of your boys, but you can worry about brainstorming ideas when you stop crying into Andrea Stella’s shoulder in the middle of the pit lane. You’re sure that your face will be posted all over Twitter in a couple of hours.

A part of you wished that Lando had won the sprint race, just as he probably wanted the same thing. But, as both of you made eye contact with each other over Oscar’s head, the Australian rambling endlessly as he hugged his trophy on your hotel room floor, both of you knew that there was no better outcome this weekend than Oscar getting a taste of victory. Lando’s win will come in due time. A P2, P3 finish on Sunday was just the proof everyone needed of McLaren’s improvement and the threat they may pose to Red Bull next year. 

são paulo • 2023

You had the Grand Prix playing on your phone as you did some prep work for the bakery. The race ended and you couldn’t help but feel happy, yet relieved for the race to be over for different reasons. Lando had a wonderful drive today, and Oscar had the opposite; you were just glad it wasn’t a DNF for him.

You had only just begun wiping down the counters when the sound of the post-race show is interrupted by the ringtone you have set for Oscar. You paused quickly, scooping your phone up to answer.

“Hi, Ozzy,” you cooed gently, “How are you feeling? Sorry about your race buddy, that was unfortunate.”

“It happens, I guess. I feel like shit, mostly. Like I let the team down.”

“No way, Oscar! You’re not letting anybody down. Your race result today wasn’t the result of your skills, it was the result of being in the wrong place at the wrong time. It was a racing incident. If anybody tells you differently, let me know. I’ll rip their vocal cords out.”

Oscar’s laugh crackled through the receiver. “Yes, mum. I’ll let you know. I really want some of your chocolate chip cookies, they’re the perfect bad race remedy.”

“Well, I’m flying out in a few hours to meet you guys in Brazil so I can celebrate Lando’s—sorry, excuse me—your father’s birthday with him. I think there may be some time for me in my schedule to make some cookies with you.”

“Really? We should make some for Lando too! Wait, before you leave, I left his birthday gift—”

“—In our apartment, I remember! I already packed it in my luggage, I wouldn’t forget.”

“You’re the best, seriously.”

“Mhm, I know. Also, we should share some of these cookies with Charles too, his radio message made me cry.”

“Okay, he can have one cookie.”

“Oscar Jack,” you said dryly.

“Yes, sharing is caring or whatever. He can have like...two.”

instagram • bakewithyn • november 13th • las vegas ⚑

liked by, mclaren, landonorris, f1, oscarpiastri and 353,764 others

bakewithyn: happy birthday to lando norris. he's a pretty cool guy, a great dad, and the perfect boyfriend. love you lots, baby, and i'll love you forever xxx

tagged landonorris

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user wait is this a pregnancy announcement 😨

user this is giving engagement reveal

charlesleclerc bro. if i didn't know you guys i would think your caption was serious 😣

➥ bakewithyn get pranked LOL XD

➥ user oh i feel like i just got catfished

➥ user wait so lando didn't propose nor did he put a baby in her 😒

➥ user I WANTED A BABY NORRIS

➥ user oscar exists? he's literally their child

oscarpiastri no fr i thought i was about to learn i had a sibling otw from this post

➥ bakewithyn ozzy we would've told you???

➥ landonorris you literally bought the card for me

➥ oscarpiastri a boy can hope for a younger sibling can he not :(

➥ bakewithyn so close 😚 no you can't! hope that helps xo

➥ landonorris sorry osc, it's your mum's decision 🤷‍♂️

➥ user does this mean lando wants an actual kid

mclaren admin was terrified ngl 😅

➥ mclaren i thought you really posted an engagement and pregnancy reveal without letting me know 😭

➥ landonorris sorry admin, i'll keep you in the loop in the future

➥ user landoyn engagement soon??????

twitter • november 18th • las vegas ⚑

twitter • preseason 2024

miami • 2024

Lando had you pinned to the wall in his driver's room, with his hands tangled in your curls and his mouth devouring yours. Your moans are muffled into his lips as you grind against his thigh. You tried to multitask, struggling to pull his driver’s suit down. Lando lifted you slightly, encouraging you to wrap your legs around his waist and neither of you cared to pull away at the sound of your foot hitting his P1 trophy and knocking it over. One of his hands fell from your hair to grasp at the smooth brown skin of your neck, his palm acting as a warm weighted choker on your throat and you broke away from the kiss to moan. 

“Fuck, Lando—get naked,” you whined desperately, “we don’t have much time for you to tease me right now!”

Lando laughed as he moved to press kisses along your jawline and behind your ear. You felt his lips part on your skin, his breath ghosting over you causing goosebumps to rise, but it’s not his voice you hear.

“Lando, they need us for pictures—OH MY GOD WHAT THE FUCK,” yelped Oscar, the sound of his hand smacking over his eyes reverberating around the room.

You shrieked in surprise, pushing your boyfriend away from you as you speedily readjusted your clothes. Lando positioned himself in front of you, his back facing you allowing you a little more privacy as he speedily fixed his suit around his waist.

“Learn how to knock, kid,” Lando huffed, no shame found in his words, “You interrupted my winning celebration.”

You screamed in dismay, slapping the back of Lando’s head and Oscar began to stumble out of the room, bumping into the doorframe as he still covered his eyes.

“Yeah, knock in the future, I understand,” Oscar sounds like he’s about to cry, “I feel like I just saw my mum and dad having sex!”

instagram • bakewithyn • may 12th • mama's house ⚑

liked by oscarpiastri, alexandrasaintmleux, landonorris, and 551,012 others

bakewithyn: LOOK AT MY SON 🥺🥺 PRIDE IS NOT THE WORD IM LOOKING FOR 🗣️🗣️🔊🔊 (happy mother's day to all the beautiful mamas x)

tagged oscarpiastri

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oscarpiastri did dad get you anything 🙃

➥ user 👀👀👀

➥ landonorris well i would've if SOMEBODY told me we were celebrating this year 🤬🤬🤬🤬

➥ oscarpiastri i didn't know i *had* to tell you

➥ user wowwwww lando

➥ user shameful honestly 😕

markwebber happy milf day

➥ markwebber *mother's day sorry typo

➥ bakewithyn what the fuck ☠️☠️☠️

➥ user that was not a typo mark

➥ user sir u are not slick LMAO

➥ bakewithyn i mean...oscar wouldn't mind a step dad, his fatther didn't get me anything today :(

➥ landonorris AYO BABY PLEASE 🧎‍♂️

oscarpiastri you know what would be an even better mother's day gift? getting a puppy 🤭

➥ bakewithyn we are not getting a puppy ozzy.

➥ landonorris should've clued me in osc i might've convinced her for you

➥ oscarpiastri :[

monaco • 2024

You’re about to crash THE FUCK out. At first, it was a little half-joke. Oscar’s home race in Australia, his 1/16th home race in China, and his 3/16th home race in Italy. You originally thought his tweet about “searching for his Monegasque roots” was cute, but you didn’t expect Charles Marc Herve Perceval (Demon Spawn) Leclerc to step into your playing field.

Who the hell does he think he is? Offering to adopt your son? And, Oscar is going along with it? And, the Miami Grand Prix account making a “Certificate of Adoption?” You started to like Miami after Lando won there; and now they’ve betrayed you. Every fan jumped on the bandwagon, thinking that this was the most adorable thing to happen. Like Oscar hasn’t been your child the minute he stepped foot into the MTC in Silverstone. Like he didn’t give you a Mother’s Day present? The Monegasques have some nerve; you were close with Charles and Alex but, now they’ve encroached on your and Lando’s territory. You’re committing several murders today. 

You laughed hysterically when Oscar joined Lando and you for lunch, mentioning that Charles and Alex invited him to eat with the rest of the Leclercs at family dinner after qualifying. You agreed to let him but not without making sure Charles and Alex are qualified for the job. Lando also cornered you in the kitchen and persuaded you to allow Oscar to go; swaying you with the idea of a real date night. You never realized just how much time you guys spend with your son. When’s the last time you guys had a break from being “mum and dad?" It was an appealing offer, but you were serious about clarifying expectations to the thieving couple.

twitter • may 25th • monaco

instagram • bakewithyn • may 25th • date night ⚑

liked by charlesleclerc, landonorris, nicolepiastri and 236,978 others

bakewithyn: a little night off from parenting was needed x

tagged landonorris

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user okay mamiiiii

user all parents deserve to relax !!!

oscarpiastri do you even miss me ☹️

➥ user damn he goin through it

➥ charlesleclerc i literally just got him to smile and now he's crying again 😒

➥ landonorris your mum and i love you lots osc

➥ oscarpiastri :]

alexandrasaintmleux take full advantage of having no children in the house 😈😈😈

➥ charlesleclerc leo will keep him distracted for as longggg as possible 😏

➥ user lando only needs about three minutes 🥱

➥ user wow that's a really long time fr

oscarpiastri mama y papa

➥ user mama y papa

➥ user mama y papa

➥ user mama y papa

instagram • landonorris • june 16th • daddy's home ⚑

liked by oscarpiastri, angryginge, bakewithyn and 436,812 others

landonorris: father's day done right. my child and his mother made a cake for me, family photo slide two, and my son slide three. what more can a man want.

tagged bakewithyn and oscarpiastri

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user this man never misses a chance to call himself daddy

user too fucking funny 🤸🏾‍♀️🤸🏾‍♀️

bakewithyn happy father's day, daddy xxx

➥ user OHMYGOD 😖🤢🤮

➥ user on my internet⁉️⁉️⁉️

➥ landonorris even happier now x

user this new wave of parents concerns me...

oscarpiastri the cake was good wasn't it???

➥ landonorris it was perfect, seriously

➥ oscarpiastri i know you both said there's no way we'd get a puppy but hear me out i've thought of something better

➥ oscarpiastri working on giving me a younger sibling :]

➥ user YES BABY NORRIS ‼️‼️‼️

➥ landonorris @/bakewithyn ?

➥ bakewithyn ask me again in a couple of years

© httpsserene2024

[nobody3xe]

Azul Ashengrotto

[ceilidho]

ceilid. oil rig soap i am foaming at the mouth omg

he's covered in an ever present layer of grease and grime, stinking of sweat and rust. comes off as a cocky showboat when you first arrive on the rig, jokes about wanting to see you all messed up like the rest of 'em, but his jokes are barbed, electric blue eyes looking you up and down like he really can't stand how clean and neat you are compared to the men on board. like he wants to tear your ironed skirt down so he can drag his dirty paws all over your ass and thighs.

you honestly write him off; hard to see the laid back charmer as a genuine threat or even someone to go running to should something bad happen to you, but then everything on the rig goes to shit. something violent and hungry comes out of the water and you can hear the blood curdling screams from the men it catches as you sprint down the landing, the helicopter already starting to take off even as you yell for them to wait.

but then a man twice your size is suddenly pulling you into the shadows, covering your mouth and shushing you as the thing that came aboard the ship suddenly passes (and you think, wildly, that it would've been on you by now had soap not dragged you out of the way) and you watch in horror as it obliterates the chopper, the body of the chopper bursting into flames and going into a tailspin, crashing into the ocean below.

"keep the heid, bonnie," murmured into your ear, the hand around your mouth pressing harder and muffling your screams as he pulls you deeper into the rig, trying to find a place to hide, his arms like steel bands around you. "willnae let anything bad happen to ye."

[saetoshis]

꒰ᐢ. .ᐢ꒱₊˚⊹ SIN OF A THIN WALL | toji fushiguro

⋆୨୧˚ SUMMARY: your roommate has complaints about the thin wall you have to share in your apartment

⋆୨୧˚ MATURE CONTENT WARNINGS:

fem reader, v nasty sex, voyeurism [?], solo masturbation, [toji says 'yes ma'am' once], dry humping, nipple play, oral f. receiving, squirting, size kink, creampie, MDNI.

toji had just about had enough already.

night after night through the thin, reverberating shared wall of your room next to him, he listens - whether he wants to or not. it starts out with a little creak of your bed here and there, and he knows it’s about to get noisy. he’ll cover his head with a pillow to drown it out, but it’s not enough. he’ll put headphones on, turn up the tv, anything, but it just can’t muffle your sounds well enough.

so he hears it all - night after night. your voice-cracked whimpers, your little jolts that make the wooden frame squeak, the slick sounds as you play with yourself, even your little whiny curses and foul words.

it’s such a pain to him. he just wants to sleep - but, fuck, is it impossible to relax with an uncomfortable, stiff tent in his pants. he tries to choke it down, to remind himself how wrong it is to get turned on from such a thing, to just let out a deep sigh and hope that those little sheep will come dancing by soon - but they never do.

it gets irritating after a few days - he tries to rest, but ends up wide awake with an eye on the clock in sheer bafflement at how long you’ve been keeping it up for. either she’s ridiculously horny or she’s just trying to piss me off, toji thinks. how the fuck is she not done yet?

he grumbles under his breath, feeling exasperated and exhausted. your bed rocks noisily again, and he can hear some soft moaning - he ponders what to do, though, he doesn’t wanna barge in, of course.

“damn it,” toji mutters between a disgruntled groan as he stands up decisively, sauntering in just his boxers towards the door to your room and he doesn’t hesitate to rap on the wood. he keeps his voice low, “y’know what time it is? i’m tryin’ to sleep.”

toji’s met with no response, and his eyebrows furrow in consternation as he presses his ear to the door. did she not hear me?

“hey, you listenin’?” toji grunts out, a little louder, letting out a heavy sigh as his head hangs down in a slouch. the fuck is going on? he hesitates, tensing his jaw as he thinks, what do i do, just walk in? he knocks again, “c’mon already. answer or i’m gonna come in…”

he waits a few seconds, then a few more - nothing. toji’s eyebrows tense up as he rubs his eyes half in exhaustion, half in irritation. he curses under his breath, grabbing the door handle abruptly. “this is fuckin' ridiculous, i’m comin’ in.”

one push of the door on its hinges brings to reveal your half-clothed, shaky figure splayed on your bed with your fingers stuffed between your thighs. you jolt at his brooding presence in your doorway, hands quickly moving to cover what's visible to him, “s-shit, can you not?”

toji sighs heavily, looking down at the floor, the ceiling, anywhere. “i knocked, i spoke up, you didn’t hear. i’m tired, i jus’ wanna sleep but all the noise is keepin’ me up. for fuck’s sake, finish up or go to bed.”

it's hard to describe the way your head tilts in bewilderment at the same time as you freeze up, realizing that he's been hearing you this whole time - what's the main feeling? is it vulnerability? surprise? or maybe hope that he's come to help you? maybe all three at once?

"sorry, didn't realize the walls were so thin," you murmur awkwardly, both of your gazes evading one another in the tense energy of the room. what's worse is you can feel the throb of your clit from how dangerously close you were by the time he walked in, and you almost can't resist the instinct to let your fingers return to what they were doing before. "didn't mean to be a bother."

"it's fine," toji mutters in a rasped, sleepy voice, yet there's something else woven into his tone that you can't quite pin down. he lets his eyes wander a bit, it's rather dark after all, so maybe you won't notice him taking a quick look. "just- y'know, keep it down, maybe."

you nod gently, glancing around, not sure where to look - certainly at him is not the answer - where his arms are crossed, biceps pushed even larger against himself and laced with veins. certainly not where his boxers sit on his hips, the v-shape of his lower abs tantalizing your imagination as to what's beneath that waistband.

and certainly not where the slightest bit of a smirk is pulling at his scarred lips as his mind plays the same little game as yours. toji is acutely aware of your body language - your chest still rising and falling pretty quickly, thighs squeezing together as if you're focusing all your energy on not touching. maybe he wouldn't mind helping you just this once...

"y'know, maybe-" toji starts, tilting his head as his eyes and words both trail off in second-thought. he glances back at you, clears his throat and rasps out, "nah, never mind. that'd be a lil' weird."

"why would it be weird?" you murmur quietly, shifting on the bed all antsy-like as if you could sense what he was going to say. "you can say it. i won't judge, you know..."

"well," toji hesitates for a brief moment again, then steps forwards to the end of your bed and his big, calloused hands find their place on the wooden frame. he rests his weight forwards on his palms, and you can see what sort of expression he's wearing now that he's closer. it's intriguing you. "either you stop doin' this late at night and find some time durin' the day so it's not keepin' me up, or... y'know, we could do it together."

"together?" both your lungs and your thighs constrict viscerally, all air and sense leaving your body as the weight of his words lays on you like bricks. toji nods. he's serious? your face contorts in an indescribable way - maybe ecstasy, maybe shock. "you're serious?"

"ah, i mean, i didn't say that just to fuck around with you," toji lets out a little chuckle between his soft sneer, and you can tell he's being actually serious. his eyes glaze over your body, then meet yours again. "mutual benefit, y'know? not tryin' to lose any more sleep. if pleasing you means i get some peace n' quiet at night, i don't mind."

"okay," is all you can spit out, paired with a blank-minded yet also fervently overthinking nod. you're not sure what to do now - all you know is that there's an eager pressure building up between your thighs that you won't be able to rid yourself of until his hands are on you. your head tilts as you shift anxiously on the sheets, "you mean, like, right now?"

"yeah, right now," toji lets out another dry chuckle as he maneuvers to kneel in front of you on the plush mattress. he leers down at where you're sitting just inches from him, looking all small and pretty with your thighs keening together. his thumb finds your chin, and he leans in titillatingly. "tell me how you like it."

"however you want," you sigh out the words in need, eyes flitting over his green ones, then his scar, then his lips, then his eyes again. it's when he slowly lets his lips drag over yours, then kisses, that you melt into him. your hands find his shoulders, dragging up towards the back of his head to flit through his hair. his big hand cradles your head gently yet full of want, and all you can do is whine, "fuck."

"i know, i know," toji mutters through a little grin, letting breathy sighs escape between the wanton kiss that seems to get hotter and messier each time it happens in succession. he keens closer to your body, letting you slowly laze onto your back on the sheets. his fingers glide along the strap of your bra, inching further behind you to unclasp it with a murmured, "let me see you."

your lungs pant shallowly as he watches closely at the way your tits spill out of your bra once it's strewn onto the floor, surely to be forgotten. the way he almost groans at the sight is enough to make your spine flicker with little waves of euphoria. you want him to touch you so badly you might die. you breathe out in a heave, "please- don't stop kissing me."

"yes, ma'am," toji jeers as he shifts your thighs to either side of his hips, and he presses himself forwards to let you feel just how fucking hard you're making him. he leans down, kissing you fervently, now with little flicks of his tongue against yours and soft grunts. "feel what you did to me?"

"mhm," you pull back and nod, hands grazing his chest and his arms, wholly taking in each dip and curve of pure muscle on his frame. you consider whether or not you're possessed by the way you mindlessly take his hand in yours, sliding it down to your panties to let him feel along the slick mess coating the fabric. "feel what you did to me?"

"fuck, you're nasty," toji pants out between a little grin, rocking his hips once or twice against yours as his hands paw at the plushness of your breasts. what jolts you the most is how heavy his cock feels against you, and you can't help but shudder when you look down at the bulge urging to press through his boxers. "y'like that? like when i grind on you? want me to put it in already?"

"yeah, mhm," you nod in furor, practically losing yourself over just the thought of it. toji brings his thumbs to gently toy with your nipples, as if testing to see what makes you squirm the most. it's when you let out a little whine paired with a big shudder that he smirks, "sensitive there, huh? what if i keep playin' with 'em? you gonna get wetter for me?"

"yeah, turns me on- fuck," you whimper out airily, half-moaning half-wincing when his fingers tweak the buds purposefully. what makes your head spin is when he presses open-mouthed, messy kisses along your jaw, your neck, all the way down to your chest - and it's when he trades his fingers for his mouth that you're grasping his hair, panting hard and begging for friction between your thighs. "toji, please, need you."

"m' gonna get there, promise," toji murmurs between a pearled sneer as he lets his tongue drag on your sensitive nipple over and over again, his free hand grazing down your curves to find refuge between your thighs. he drags his thumb mind-dizzyingly slow along your clit above your panties, and hums, "wanna see how big a mess i can get you to make first."

"that's mean," you whine out impatiently, giving him innocent little eyes in the hopes that he'll slip your panties to the side and just fucking give it to you. but he doesn't do that - he kisses his way down your stomach, all the way down to the damp spot on the fabric clinging to your hips.

"nah, i'm doin' you a favor. gotta get you all wet n' needy first so i can give it to you the way you want it," toji's demeanor changes to one of pure focus as his fingers slip your panties off your hips, his eyes glazing over the slick already donning your folds and inner thighs. he circles his thumb over your bare clit and groans, "that all for me? bet it's all sweet, too, fuck."

you let out a shaky gasp when you feel him press a slew of kisses on your clit, tongue swiping here and there to get a feel for what makes you shiver. it's when he's licking circles, experimentally slipping two fingers between your walls and curling forwards that you're letting out a whimper and pleading for more - there it is.

"you like both, huh? want me to fuck you with my fingers n' suck on your clit, yeah?" the little smirk he flashes you before attending back to his ministrations is enough to send you reeling, thighs wantonly tightening around his head as little jolts shiver up your spine. his fingers fill you in a way your own never could, pressing against the spot that is always just out of reach for you. "losing it this bad over just my fingers? yours don't hit it here, huh? no wonder you've been up so late the past few nights."

it doesn't take long until you're panting in hitched breaths, grasping his hair, shuddering and whining and grinding your hips into his mouth in a desperate attempt to fall over the edge. "don't stop, please- fuck, gonna make me-"

"cum? yeah? you wanna cum on my fingers n' make a mess on my face?" toji leers out the words before almost groaning at the way you're mindlessly rolling your hips onto his tongue, face all tense and mouth agape as you feel tingles start to spread through your spine. all your little moans of 'like that, just like that, don't stop' make his cock twitch in his boxers and his fingers fuck into you just a little faster.

"g-god, oh- gonna cum, gonna cum," you're whining through every little jolt of your body as you shiver all over, fist tightening on the roots of his hair and he can't help but let out a low moan himself. his eyes glaze over the pretty face you make when you finally reel over the edge, and he can feel the slick mess start to smother his palm and chin.

"oh, fuck yeah, just like that," toji jeers as he keeps up the work with his fingers, watching more and more flicks of liquid start to cover his hand each second he continues. it's when your thighs pull together out of sheer overstimulation that he's slipping his fingers out, eyes mesmerized by just how much of a mess he made of you. "fuck, wanna see you do that again on my cock right now."

"c'mere," toji wastes no time before pushing down the waistband of his boxers, letting his cock free of its restraints and into his fist instead. you flit your eyes down towards his hips, watching him give himself a few soft, moan-inducing pumps where he's leaned over you. "think you can take it? wanna see you nod yes."

"yeah, yeah, please," you whimper out now at just the thought of being so full, feeling things your own fingers wish they could do for you. a languid whine leaves your lips when he presses the head of his cock on your clit, sliding down before rocking his hips forwards to bottom out. it's indescribable the way you both moan, immediately panting out and exchanging little grins from how fucking good it already feels.

"jesus- fuck, you're so wet," toji grunts out as he leans down, caging you between his big arms and slowly letting his hips rut forwards, backwards, then again, then again. the head hits a spot that makes your thighs shiver on each side of him, and you can't control the mewed whimpers leaving your lips anymore. "always- shit, secretly wanted to do this to you."

"y-yeah? how long?" you manage to mutter out between moans in time with each subsequently faster rut of his hips, each heavy rock of himself into you that has you both tensing up.

"god, the whole time. if you think i was layin' there- fuck, tryin' to go to sleep, you're mistaken," toji's breath hitches, his hair falling messily over his forehead as his muscles tauten and stretch with each thrust. his hands drag down to grip your waist, holding you stable as he angles deeper. "got so hard thinkin' about you touchin' yourself like that. was hard not to bust down the door n' fuckin' give it to you."

"mm- fuck," you whine in response, and he can feel you get wetter and enclose him even tighter when he fucks hard against that spot he now knows you love. your hands desperately grasp the sheets, his wrists, anything you can hold onto to keep yourself on planet earth. "thought about you while i was doing it. w-wanted you to hear. thought about you getting off to me..."

"oh, god, you're so fuckin' hot," toji's head cranes back for a moment, and you can see his abs viscerally shudder when you tighten around his shaft. he's mouth-agape, panting hard, eyebrows tense and rutting his hips hard enough to make the whole bed creak and shake. "swear i heard you moan my name once- jesus, was so hot. ended up caving n' beat off to your lil' noises, couldn't help it."

"i don't even- mm, remember saying it. just so natural," you mew back, sweat breaking along your skin as you shudder and lose more and more sanity with each heavy rock of his hips.

"do it again," toji's tone is heavy, rasped, demanding. his eyebrows are tense, hands ever-so-slightly shaky, motions getting erratic and faster, more messy. his grunts mix with moans, mix with shallow breaths, mix with the lewd wet noises and smacks and shake of the rickety bed and you can tell he's almost there. his eyes meet yours and his breath shudders, "wanna hear you say it again."

"yeah, yeah, i'll do it, toji," you whimper and your voice is shaky from his flexible, unstable tempo, but all that matters now is remembering his name. you lose all sense of everything else, letting out mew after whimper after moan of 'yes, yes, fuck, yes, toji, yes, toji,' and he feels like he's on cloud nine just listening to it.

"fuck yeah, there you go. keep moanin' my name for me, gonna give it to you," toji's keening for more, grunting and panting and letting out heavy ragged breaths each time his cock fucks against that spot that makes you squeeze him even tighter. it's when he leans back down, caging you between his arms and breathing hard against your cheek that he bottoms out, shuddering and groaning as ropes of white spill between your walls and slick around the base of his cock. "jesus, fuck..."

you both stay immobile for a few seconds, feeling every twitch of his cock and every tautening around his shaft in almost slow motion. you're both panting hard, almost shaking.

"jesus christ," toji is the first to let out a leering chuckle, one with a mix of both astonishment and sheer pleasure. you follow suit, trying to catch your breath as you both eye the mess stickying the sheets and each other's bodies. you're definitely going to have to shower.

you let out a little giggle, and toji's face quirks up in question. you smile, letting your body fall back into its normal rhythm. "do you wish you had walked in on me earlier? 'cause i do."

toji chuckles, too, shaking his head and attempting to tame back the unruly mess that is his hair. "nah..." he leans down, letting his thumb flit along your cheek. "doesn't matter, cause now we got all the time in the world."

2024 SAETOSHIS. do not copy/repost. erm @diorsbrando if u read this n give me a review i will forever b in ur debt i know ur a toji lover pls send help if this is mischaracterized .. i need assistance but am too impatient to allow beta reading JAKLALLALAA

[truedove]

wanna play a game?

word count - 2,742

content - smut (minors dni), f!reader insert, extremely dubious consent, basically fuck or die, unprotected piv, slight breeding kink, twisted and fluffy feelings

synopsis - a dangerous escapee finds refuge in a haunted house and blends in seamlessly with the crowd of costumed goers. he continues his deadly spree only to run into you.

a/n - i honestly have no idea what this is :/

this was a terrible idea. the thought runs through your mind on repeat as you stand in line for the haunted house, the chill in the october air doing nothing to cool your nerves. your best friend had begged you to come along, promising it would be a night of laughs and good scares. but as the line inched closer to the gaping maw of the house, with its flickering lights and eerie sound effects, you felt less amused and more…trapped.

you weren't a scaredy-cat, no. you were an avid horror movie watcher and only just slightly quickened your steps when the lights were off at home. but this was different. you weren't watching from the safety of your sofa, plush sheets tucked tight under your chin; you were walking into the very heart of it.

in the recesses of your mind, you knew everything around you wasn't real, that the monsters masquerading in the shadows were just actors paid to make you scream. but as you stepped through the creaking doorway and into a dimly lit corridor, the rational part of you took a backseat to the instinctive fear that pumped adrenaline through your veins. the walls closed in around you, painted with scenes of gore that seemed a little too vivid.

your friend lets out a giddy laugh after one of the actors pops out from behind a curtain, a plastic chainsaw buzzing in his hand.

"wooh-boy!" your friend exclaims, leaning into your side as she catches her breath from the jump scare. "that was a good one."

all you can offer her is a strained smile as you will your heart to slow down. the corridor opens into a grim room filled with cobwebs and the scent of fake decay fills your nose. a scream echoes from somewhere deep in the house and you jump, your hand shooting to your chest.

a buzz starts from your toes to the very tips of your fingers, light at first but growing stronger with each step you take into the house. your friend grabs your hand, pulling you deeper into the maze of horrors, her excitement palpable. you swallow hard and try to keep up, the floorboards groaning beneath you as if the house itself were alive and aware of your fear.

suddenly, a strobe light flashes on and a multitude of figures lunge out of a rusty side doorway, your friend's grip on your hand slips away. for a moment, you're lost in the chaos of flashing lights and ghastly shrieks, searching for her familiar form amidst the strangers dressed as creatures of the night. your breath catches in your throat as the strobe light dances off the walls, casting eerie shadows that twist and distort the space around you. you're dizzy, disoriented, and utterly terrified.

you veer off the given path in a panic, stumbling through a foggy hallway that seems to stretch on forever. your eyes strain to make out the way forward, faux cobwebs sticking to your face like a clingy mist that makes you cringe. the air is thick with the smell of fake smoke, and somewhere, distant thunder rumbles. your heart is racing, and the adrenaline is making it difficult to think straight. you call out for your friend, but the echoes of your own voice are the only response.

a cold hand brushes against your arm, and you jump. you whirl around, ready to face whatever horror lurks in the fog, only to find a grinning skeleton, its plastic bones rattling with every jerky movement. a laugh bubbles up in your throat, part relief and part embarrassment.

heavy footsteps begin to approach from the other end of the foggy hallway you find yourself in, growing louder with each echoing thud and your chuckle dies in your throat. the faint flickering lights go out, plunging you into a sudden and absolute darkness.

whoever is on the other end of the hallway is slow in their approach, seemingly not in any rush to get to you. maybe it's a fellow patron lost like you, you convince yourself, but the muted glint of a machete in the person's hand suggests otherwise. you try to rationalize, it's probably just another actor, trying to build suspense before the next jump scare. but the darkness is thick, a velvet shroud that blocks out all other sounds except for the methodical steps.

all logical thought leaves you as the footsteps creep closer and you bolt.

if this was an act, it was one of the best you've ever encountered. the footsteps follow you, unyielding and deliberate before they start to speed up and the person behind you is full on chasing you through this creepy ass haunted house. you can't see a thing in front of you, your eyes having not fully adjusted to the sudden blackout. all you can do is feel your way through the cold, clammy walls, your hands sticking to the damp residue of who-knows-what as you go.

you trip over something—because of course you do—and go sprawling, the wind knocked out of you. the footsteps are closer now, and you can hear the raspy breathing of the person with the machete, their excitement apparent in every exhale. your own breath comes in short, sharp bursts, the sound of your own fear amplified in the silence.

you manage to find your footing only to slam into an apparent dead end. panic sets in as the footsteps are now right behind you. your palms sweat against the flaking wallpaper, searching for any sort of out. there's no escape, no hidden door, no exit sign. trapped, you're trapped.

as you whirl around to face your pursuer, the overhead fluorescents flicker and you're met with the sight of a towering, hulking man with a machete in hand. your mind reels—hoping this is when the actor breaks character with a cheesy grin and a 'gotcha'. but there's no grin, only a wild-eyed stare through a botched halloween mask that sends a jolt of terror down your spine. you're frozen, unable to move or even scream. so terrified that your body seems to have turned to stone, you watch as the man approaches, his machete glinting in the sporadic light.

the man's hot breath fans across your face. he brings with him the scent of sweat and something else—something metallic—that sends your stomach roiling.

was he an actor gone rogue, some deranged psycho who liked to take things too far? you squeeze your eyes shut, tears pricking at the corners, and brace for the worst.

instead of a painful blow, you feel the man's ragged breath inch towards your face and then a pair of chapped lips press upon the damp skin of your cheeks. they're scorching, and you flinch when his tongue snakes out to taste the salt of your terror. your eyes fly open to see his masked visage only an inch away, his eyes low lidded and a furrow to his brows just barely visible through the slits of the mask.

he crowds you, his armed hand coming up to steady himself against the wall, the other finding it's place on the wall beside your head, trapping you in a prison of cold plaster and sweaty latex. you attempt to scream, but all that comes out is a pitiful whimper, your throat constricting with fear. you're acutely aware of the weight of the machete's tip pressing against your ribs, a silent reminder of the power he holds over you.

a grin forms against your skin and the man idles closer, his teeth scraping against your cheek like the sharpened edge of a serrated blade. with his bulk pinning your frozen body to the wall, you feel a suspicious lump press against your navel, and panic shoots through you anew.

no, no, no. this couldn't be happening to you right now.

there was no way you were lost in some haunted house with a disturbed, possibly murderous stranger grinding his erection against your stomach. it just couldn't be.

you let out a plaintive cry as the gravity of your situation sinks in and the man coos, a sound meant to be soothing but only makes your tears fall faster.

he seems genuinely distressed at your tears, his shoulders slumping slightly as he hunches in on himself. but his grip doesn't lessen, nor does the pressure of his body against yours. if anything he presses closer, seemingly trying to comfort you in the most perverse way he knows how. but that was crazy, right? this monster couldn't actually be trying to console you. right?

when your cries only continue to escalate, the hulking man silences you in the only way he knows how to. he covers your mouth with his own and swallows your sobs greedily. you squirm, the 'fight' part of 'fight or flight' finally kicking in. your hands push against his chest, feeling the solidity of his frame beneath his grimy costume. but your efforts are futile, like trying to move a mountain with your bare hands. the man's kiss is wet and sloppy, his tongue pushing against your teeth as if he's trying to taste the very depth of you.

his hand snakes down from the wall, gripping your waist and pulling you closer, his machete now digging into your spine. your muffled protests are ignored in favor of his deepening of the kiss and you feel his other hand move to the back of your head, his fingers weaving through your hair as if he's trying to cradle your skull.

growing increasingly frustrated with your constant struggling, he slams his hand into the wall beside your head, making the plaster crack and sending a spray of dust into the stale air. the sound is deafening in the enclosed space, and you feel the vibration in your teeth. you flinch— hard—and the sudden stillness of your body seems to be what he's been waiting for. his grip on you grows less punishing and more consuming, his tongue sliding against yours with a fervor that turns your stomach.

you force yourself to calm down enough to finally take stock of your situation. this man, this monster, chased you down and seemed pretty intent on killing you before apparently deciding you'd make a better paramour than a corpse. was it your tears? did the sight of them get this sick fuck hard and he allotted you a different, more twisted fate?

you don't know and frankly don't care to. all you know is that you have to make it out of this alive, even if it meant playing into his twisted games. so, with trembling hands, you tentatively wrap your arms around his neck, feigning compliance. your stomach turns with every touch, but you force yourself to respond to his kiss, moving your mouth against his with as much passion as you can muster. he groans, a low guttural sound that makes your blood run cold, and abruptly lifts you off the floor, your legs instinctively wrapping around his waist to keep from falling.

"little lamb." he croons into your mouth, his voice thick with undeniable lust.

terror is a living thing inside of you, desperate to escape, but you keep it buried deep. your body goes rigid as he starts to grind his cock against your clothed cunt, mere fabric the only barrier between his sick desires and your trembling flesh.

he's quick to rectify that though, impatience getting the better of him as he full on tears the denim of your pants open with one swift motion. the sound of the fabric ripping echoes in the small space, making your heart stutter. the cold air hits your exposed skin, the difference between the chilly room and his burning hands a veritable assault on your senses.

his own pants are next and you feel the heat of his cock pressing against you. the heavy, leaden weight of him pokes you through the fabric of your underwear and he grunts, hips rutting against you. your eyes widen in horror and you squeeze them shut, trying to think of anything but the reality of what's happening. you can't help the whine that escapes your throat as he starts to tug at your underwear, ripping them away with a sickening sound.

some fumbling occurs and you feel the tip of his cock pushing at your entrance, and fuck. he's big, stupidly so, and you know there's no way he's fitting without tearing you apart. you pant at the thought, cold fear making your cunt clench tight around him. he seems to like this, though, because his grunts turn to growls and he shoves harder, pushing through your tightly wound muscles until you're forced to open for him.

there's a sharp, burning pain as he breaches you and you bite down on his shoulder to keep from crying out. you relish in the wince he gives, the bitter sap of his blood that fills your mouth when you bite down just that little harder. he's oblivious to your silent rebellion as he starts to fuck you, his strokes rough and unyielding; desperate. the wall bites into your back with every frenzied thrust, sending shocks of pain throughout your body that you don't mind as much as you should. this whole thing isn't revolting you as much as it should, which in itself is a horror to grapple with. you fervently try to ignore how good his strokes feel inside of you and the way your body seems to be betraying you with every shiver of pleasure that races through your veins.

his cock stretches you wide and broken moans escape you unbidden, muffled into the crook of his neck. you hate the way your body responds to the intrusion, the way your hips instinctively rock to meet his thrusts as if seeking the relief it knows is on the other end of this. he seems to notice your shift in demeanor, a smug grin spreading beneath the mask. his tongue traces the line of your jaw, teeth scraping against your skin and leaving little indents in his wake.

"you like this." he says with a definitive air, his voice deep and sure like he's simply stating a fact. an irrevocable truth.

your head shakes instinctively—the act slipping for a moment—but even you're not sure if it's in protest or in response to the dark thrill his claim sends through you.

when his groans lower in pitch and his already desperate rutting becomes more frantic, you realize with a jolt that he must be close. a swooping sensation fills your stomach—part fear, part relief—knowing that this might soon be over. but you can't just wait for him to finish and hope he lets you go, you need a plan. especially since the idea of him coming inside of you is too much to bear. you're not on birth control and nothing is shielding him from painting your insides white with his seed.

your barely-formed plans for escape are promptly cut off and interrupted by your own impeding climax, the alarm in your veins mixing with the sudden, not totally unwanted bliss.

it's blinding, all-consuming and leaves you feeling more than a little light-headed when it hits. the whole of you tenses around him, muscles clenching, and you can't help the cry that's torn from deep within your chest. the man grins into your neck, his teeth scraping against your skin as he lets himself go, filling you with a thick, hot rush of his cum.

the only sound that fills the space between the two of you for a long while is his labored breaths and your own shaky ones. his cum drips down from between your legs, viscous and pooling in the crevices of your inner thighs, your body still trembling with the aftershocks. when your head clears, you register the soft nips and kisses he's pressing against your neck and shoulders, as if he's trying to be sweet in the aftermath of his violation. aftercare, you think with slight hysteria.

it's silent, too quiet, and this is where your supposed to do something, get him while he's open and exposed but your body is a traitor, limp and spent against the wall. worse yet, his cock is still lodged inside of you, pulsing with the last of his orgasm and you feel his weight shift, his chest rumbling slightly as he murmurs, "again?"

[n0tamused]

Your dragon lover who comes home to you after a long time spent apart and goes to immediately hug you from behind, his arms locking you in his loving embrace and you can feel his heartbeat against your back. He is nosing at the crook of your neck, breathing in your scent that lingers with the smell of spices and herbs from the meal you're preparing. He loves you so much, and he tells you so. Not only through words but the way he holds you as if you're the sole provider of oxygen. The way his teeth lightly nip at your supple skin, leaving behind little faint marks of his love, all over your shoulders and on your nape. He is pawing at your hips, begging you to just come to the couch, to bed, hold him or let him hold you, just allow him the time to be close to you. Allow him the time to show the parts of his love that his words fail to describe. And when you give in you find yourself below him, his head on your chest listening to the drumming of your heart that he couldn't directly kiss. Your fingers are combined through his hair, creating separations in his locks before messing it up gently once more and starting over. His low, quiet sounds of pleasure tell you all you need to know about how he's enjoying this, low and soft grumbles urging you to keep going. Any more of this and he'll start purring on your chest like an oversized cat, but neither of you would mind. Not when he's holding you like his most precious treasure, wrapped around you like a rope, and not when you hold him so tenderly.

Characters: Zhongli, Neuvillette, Jiyan, Mortefi + any of your faves as dragons

Ⓒ n0tamused. Do not repost, translate, edit, and/or copy any of my works. Likes, comments, and reblogs are appreciated.

[spikershoyo]

birthday special | lando norris x f!reader | smut | minors DNI!

warnings, tags, and notes: smut, oral sex (fem and masc), eating cake while getting your pussy eaten (lol), mentions of drinking, Lando having the tiniest existential crisis, fingering, happy birthday to the only boy ever <3

Lando groaned softly when his eyes opened in the morning, already knowing he woke up too early on a day off. But he quickly relaxed back into the sheets when he felt your warm body against his, head tucked into the side of his neck, he was content with laying there for a few more hours. He didn’t know that you were already awake, having looked at his peaceful, sleeping face when you had woken up. 

You waited a few minutes to shift, murmuring a soft ‘good morning, baby’ as Lando tightened his hold around you. He grunts something back in response, eyes still heavy from sleep. You peppered kisses over his neck, eliciting a soft sound from Lando, your hands tracing down his warm body, making the Brit squirm. “Your hands are cold,” He sighed, relishing in your kisses. “Happy birthday, Lan,” You whispered into his skin. 

Lando smiles at the low congratulations, murmuring a ’thank you’ before pulling you closer, turning you both over, and having you sit on his lap. Lando sighed with contentment, watching you with adoring eyes. Hair messy and his t-shirt resting over your frame, it’s better than anything he could have asked for. 

Your hands now run down his bare chest, touching and feeling the skin you had access to at any time of the day, Lando’s wolfish smile beaming up at you as his hands rested on your hips, sliding under your sleeping shirt and tracing over your panties. “Look at you,” He hummed, shifting your hips so that you moved over his morning wood, making both of you groan out in pleasure. Lando entertains the idea of sinking into you and sleeping through the rest of the morning, meeting up with his parents later, but you have something else planned. 

You slide down his lap and settle between his legs, planting your hands on his thighs as you gaze up at him. “Wanted to give my sweet boy something special on his birthday morning,” Lando’s dazed expression makes you giggle, his fingers gripping onto the meat on your hips. 

Lando takes a deep breath when he feels your lips around the tip of his cock, your hands having pulled his boxers down. He leaned his head back on the pillows, getting comfortable while fighting back the urge to buck his hips into your mouth. 

Morning head on his birthday sounded heavenly, it was more than he could have asked for. Lando doesn’t last long, quickly finishing in your mouth and pulling you back up to him for a kiss. 

You managed to begrudgingly get Lando out of bed, still lazy from his first birthday treat. There were a few moments when Lando realized he was turning 25, a very real, very adult age. While avoiding a midlife crisis, you got him to get ready so you could go visit his family, who had landed in Monaco last night so they could celebrate Lando’s birthday. 

Everything was perfect, all the people he loved gathered around for a nice brunch. His parents, brother and sisters, friends, cousins, grandparents, and you, the person he most loved. 

He laughed and had the best of time, getting a small cake so the people he loves can celebrate him, and even now at 25 he still doesn’t know where to look when they’re singing happy birthday to him. So he settles to look at you. 

Later into the day you and Lando had decided to go out clubbing with a few friends for some more adult fun, a few of the drivers from the grid coming out to wish him a nice one. 

Lando’s tipsy and he’s happy, happier than he’s been in a while. He gets to hold you and kiss you, be celebrated by you, and just have a good day. So when you both come back stumbling into your apartment, tipsy and gleeful, Lando is insatiable. Ever since you both grabbed a cab back home he’s been all over you, whispering dirty promises and sweet nothings into your ears. 

You’re hungry when you walk into the kitchen to get a glass of water, Lando whining for you to come to bed, wanting to have you undressed. “Baby, come on,” He sighs, bent over and leaning on the kitchen island, gazing at you. “Hold on, birthday boy, I’m hungry.” When you open the door to the fridge nothing looks too appetizing except for Lando’s birthday cake. 

When Lando watches you stab a fork into his birthday cake, he smiles softly, walking towards you so he can settle his hands on your hips. “Gimme some,” He murmurs as he pulls you closer by your hips. You fork into the cake and stab him a piece, feeding it to him with a smile. Lando hums at the fluffy and sweet taste, the buttercream frosting melting across his tongue. “Come here,” He whispers, lifting you so you sit kitchen island. Your eyes gaze into his, dragging down his body, admiring the chain that hangs low on his chest, the few buttons he left open on his dress shirt taunting her to take it all off. 

Lando’s lips quickly press against your neck, mouthing over the heated skin, licking and biting gently. A soft moan escapes your lips as Lando spreads your legs apart, settling himself between them. “Lemme have another bite,” Lando then whispers against your lips. Lando’s hands rest on the top of your thighs, waiting expectantly with a dazed smile. 

You both share a few more bites of cake before the Brit decides he wants to eat something else. Slow, deliberate kisses are pressed down your chest, your party dress having been pushed down earlier. When he reaches the heat of your core he practically moans, hungry for more. 

Your hands run down the nape of his neck, coming back up to play with his curls when he pulls your panties down, pressing his nose against your core and smirking, littering kisses over your inner thigh before practically making out with your cunt. 

“Taste so good,” Lando moans, your hips bucking up against his mouth, whimpers falling from your lips with ease. Lando hums and nips gently against your clit, making you jolt and hit him swiftly in the back of his head, causing a laugh from the man between your legs. 

Lando eats you out like a man starved, whining and thrusting into the air as he looks up at you, eyes hooded and nose pressed against your bundle of nerves. Your body felt like it was on constant overdrive, a wave of hot and cold washing over you. 

“Oh, fuck, Lan,” You moan out, the sound resounding a bit in the fairly quiet apartment, the only other sound being the squelch between your legs, Lando’s tongue doing wonders for your pleasure. “H-hey, I should be the one pleasing you,” You chuckle breathlessly, cheeks flushed and feeling a beginning coil in your stomach. 

“This is a pleasure to me,” Lando mumbles against your pussy, pulling back to lick his lips and dip two fingers, making your mouth open in a loud moan. “That’s it, pretty girl, I know you’re close,” He smirks, knees starting to ache from kneeling on them. 

With one hand in his curls and the other one gripping the edge of the kitchen island, your hips buck up onto Lando’s digits, your bottom lip trembling when he blows air against your core. “Please, please, lemme cum, Lan, feels so good,” You plead, eyes staring down into pretty green eyes, his smile widening as you beg.

“Come on, baby, cum on my fingers,” Lando says, lips quickly going back to suck on your clit while his fingers pump in and out of your runny cunt, his soft chuckles sending shockwaves throughout your body.

When pleasure overcomes you, a delicious coil unwinding in your stomach, Lando licks up into your pussy, relishing in the slick and cleaning you up. 

Lando stands up from between your legs and licks his fingers, crashing his lips into yours so you can taste yourself on his tongue. “So sweet,” He murmurs against your lips, one of his hands coming up to swipe at his birthday cake, finger dipping into the frosting before he presses the digits against your bottom lip, prompting you to suck the yummy buttercream off. 

“And that’s even sweeter,” Lando cheekily adds, a small giggle escaping him once you roll your eyes at him. 

Now as the night ends and you’re both in the bathtub, soaking in the bubbles, Lando realizes that this is all he could have ever wanted. Sure, the presents and the company were nice, but all he wanted was you, and his wishes were granted. 

The Brit relaxes against your chest, freshly cut mullet damp and sticking to the nape of his neck, his eyes closed as your hands rested over his stomach under the water. “I love you,” Lando says, “Thank you for today, it’s been really nice.” He smiled to himself, knowing that this would be one of the many memorable birthdays he had. “I love you too, baby,” You whisper back to him, pressing a kiss to the top of his head. “Happy birthday, Lando.” 

<3

[gluttonousgirls]

<<<<child-like and misogynistic descriptions of women in writing

[acourtofchaos]

MARAUDERS ERA FIC RECS

REMUS LUPIN

BY TIRED HANDS by @luveline

CALM AFTER THE STORM by @angelfic

HIS GIRL by @opalesquegirl

IT'S TIME TO GO | PART TWO | PART THREE by @godlessandwrecked

TAKE A BITE OUT OF MY HEART* by @upsidedownwithsteve

JAMES POTTER

IF I KISS YOU, I'M SORRY

TIME WARP

by @astonishment

IS IT CHILL THAT YOU'RE IN MY HEAD by @boneblushed

WILDEST DREAMS by @pretty-little-mind33

YOU DON'T REALLY LIKE ME, YOU JUST THINK YOU DO by @perpetuallydaydreaming

SIRIUS BLACK

GORGEOUS by @cassiopeiasdaughter

LITTLE LIES* by @amiableness

'CAUSE I DON'T WANT YOU LIKE A BEST FRIEND by @evermoreal

AREN'T PROMISES MEANT TO BE BROKEN by @perpetuallydaydreaming

RIGHT WHERE I WANT TO BE by @appocalipse

REGULUS BLACK

DARLING, YOU LOOK DIVINE* by @theostrophywife

SECOND SON by @cherryslyce

HOW EMBARRASSING by @ellecdc

POSSESSIVE

INFATUATION

by @r0mantic-f00l

TENSION* | PART TWO* by @mysticmoaning

*indicates smut

[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

[strangererotica]

nsfw

🔪🩸🔥💋 sending Art spicy texts when he’s in the middle of a killing spree… 😚💦👅🫦