#formula e fic

[freeuselandonorris]

As you mentioned fic prompts: I'm not sure this is unhinged enough (although it's André so there's always that possibility) but if you were up for it I'd love to read a James/André shibari fic. Or alternately just them fucking about in Tokyo in general and having a filthy old time.

Also I hope your week improves!

wahh i'm sorry this took me so long! life, and then covid brain fog, got in the way.

anyway, i hope you like this! i had fun revisiting the slutty old tokyo days 🥲

thanks for the prompt and for all the gdocs hype as always! 😘

André puts his feet up on James’s coffee table, dislodging a stack of arty-looking books with his heel. They’ve been drinking steadily for a few hours now; he’s not drunk, just buzzed. 

“Careful,” James says mildly. He’s got the glazed, happy look he gets after a few beers. He’d won at Suzuka two days ago and has been celebrating, in one fashion or another, since. 

André straightens the stack up enough to stop it from toppling completely, then runs his fingers down the spines. James is into all these coffee table books, full of artistic black-and-white nudes and severe-looking women in sculptural clothes. Not really André’s thing, but he has to admit they lend an air of class to James’s otherwise extremely bland Tokyo apartment. The decoration in his own extends about as far as a framed Senna poster in the hallway and his helmet swap collection lined up across the top of the bookcase in the sitting room.

One of the books, halfway down the pile, catches his eye—yellow text on a red background, the title reads ‘ARAKI by ARAKI’. André slips the book out from the pile. The front cover shows a Japanese man holding a banana, kinda punk-looking. Not James’s usual thing at all. 

Curious, André flips it open. At first glance, he can see why James likes it. It’s the Tokyo they know: dive bars and groups of salarymen with loosened ties sitting around their half-discarded otsumami, lines of washing strung between alleyways. 

“This is cool,” he says, flicking through the pages. James, who had been fiddling with the aux cord plugged into his iPhone, trying to get it to connect to the speaker without much luck, looks up.

“Oh, yeah.” He takes a closer look at the page André’s come to a stop on, showing a group of women sitting around a table, deep in conversation, and grins. “You’re not at the good stuff yet, though.”

André raises his eyebrows and takes a swig of beer, flipping through the pages faster. Quickly, it becomes apparent that James was right, when he comes across a section dedicated almost entirely to—well, it’s porn, really. Naked girls, girls touching themselves, sucking cock, spreading their legs for the camera.

“You dirty man,” André says, amused. He can feel his cheeks burning up. “And I thought you were so classy, with your art books.”

James smirks and points the neck of his bottle at the open book. “Tell me that’s not art.”

André looks at the book. It’s a double-page spread, full colour, of a Japanese girl tied in ropes, one white-socked foot barely brushing the tatami mat and the other leg hoisted high. Her eyes are closed, lips parted in pleasure. Her top half is fully clothed in a kimono and obi, but from the waist down the ropes have totally exposed her.

He swallows. It is, undeniably, art. He doesn’t feel like saying that to James though. “Too much bush for my taste,” he jokes instead, pointing at the girl’s extremely well-covered crotch. James snickers and André relaxes slightly. 

Something compels him to keep flicking through, even though it would be far more sensible to put the stupid book back and keep drinking and maybe see if James wants to watch a movie. 

There are a lot more photos of women tied up. The rope is artistically tied in flattering shapes around their bodies, and most of them are suspended from the ceiling or thick posts. André takes a swig of his beer, trying to distract himself from the blush he can feel across his cheeks.

“Took a course on that once,” James says conversationally, having finally got the speaker connected and, unfortunately, now able to pay full attention to André’s journey of discovery.

“What?” André says, momentarily confused.

“Shibari,” says James, and then, at André’s blank look: “The ropes.”

“What?” André repeats stupidly, and mentally shakes himself. He sounds like an idiot.

James looks supremely unfazed. “Yeah, not long after I first got here. I was seeing a girl who was into it, so for her birthday I got us both tickets to a ‘couple’s workshop’.” He leers a bit as he says it, and André’s traitorous cock twitches. 

“Huh,” André says, and swallows. “You should teach me.”

He holds his breath after he says it, expecting James to burst into laughter or recoil in disgust, but James just shrugs and says, “Yeah, alright. I’ve still got the ropes in my room somewhere, hang on.”

He’s up and out of the room before André can backtrack or say he didn’t mean right now or any of the other excuses that leap to the tip of his tongue. André finishes his beer and tries to quell the rising panic in his chest—and the way he can feel his cock fattening up in his pants. 

There’s some crashing about and the sound of drawers and cupboard doors being opened and closed, and André half-prays James can’t find the ropes after all. When James reappears a few minutes later triumphantly waving a small bundle, André tells himself the flip in his stomach isn’t relief. 

“Alright,” James says, eyeing him critically. He’s acting like this is all completely normal, which is making everything ten times worse. “Get your jacket and shoes off and sit on the floor, it’s probably easier with a bit of room.”

For some reason, André complies immediately. He feels ridiculous, sitting there in his socked feet next to the coffee table, watching James untangle a long length of rope from the pile and fold it in half.

“Right,” James comes round to kneel in front of him. “Bear with me, I’ve not done this for a bit. Hold your hands out like this.” He demonstrates, holding his hands out in front of him with the wrists pressed together. André obeys, and James wraps the rope around them twice and then wraps the short end between his wrists and around, knotting the ends. It happens in about five seconds, and André realises he’s been effectively handcuffed. 

“That was fast,” he says thickly. James is still holding the long end of the ropes, and gives it a little tug, grinning.

“Double column tie,” he says, pulling again so André tips forward and has to use his core muscles to steady himself. “Good for tying your girl’s wrists to the headboard.”

“Great,” André says, like he’s going to be able to remember and recreate any of this, like all the blood in his body isn’t rushing southwards every time James tugs on the fucking rope. 

James gives him a long glance, something unreadable in his expression that makes André look away nervously. He undoes the wrist tie and André lets his arms drop, wondering if that’s the end of the demonstration. Apparently not, though, because James shuffles on his knees to sit behind André.

“You can take your T-shirt off for this,” he says offhandedly. “If you want. It looks better that way.”

André hesitates, then pulls his shirt over his head. It would be weirder not to. If he insisted on staying fully clothed, he’d just be drawing attention to the potential awkwardness of the situation, and then James might stop entirely. 

James runs the flat of his hand across André’s shoulder blades. “Put your hands behind your back,” he says. Is it André’s imagination, or does his voice sound lower than usual, a throaty rasp to it? “Bent at the elbows. That’s it.” 

He takes André’s arms and adjusts their position to his liking, pulling his shoulders back and lining his wrists up over each other. André’s used to being manhandled—by physios, by engineers strapping him into a car—but it’s never felt like this before, an electric shock of sensation as James tugs him into place. Something aches in his chest, a desire he can’t put into words. It makes him drop his head forward, close his eyes. 

James loops the rope around his wrists, hand brushing against the small of his back as he tucks the end through and pulls it tight. There’s a bit of fumbling that André guesses is him knotting the rope, and then suddenly James is pressed up against his back, bringing the long free end around his chest. 

Before his brain can tell him not to, André leans back against James. James breathes out a chuckle against the back of his neck. His nipples are stiff beneath his T-shirt, pressed against André’s back. 

Just for a moment, James nuzzles at the curve of his neck, lips brushing over his skin. It’s not quite a kiss, but it’s close. André lets out a breath. His fingertips are already tingling, blood flow restricted by the rope. Maybe that’s why he feels lightheaded. 

“Careful,” James murmurs as he peels himself away and André’s balance falters. He presses a hand against André’s back for a second, steadying him. The skin he’d touched feels cold when he takes his hand away to concentrate on the ropes again. 

He wraps the rope around itself and pulls, the loop around André’s chest suddenly cinching tight. André gasps. 

Swiftly, James kneels up behind him, arms coming around André’s chest once again with the rope, this time tucking it up tight beneath the swell of his pecs. He pulls, hard, and André groans at the pressure, head falling back against James’ shoulder. 

“Good?” James murmurs, doing something complicated with the ropes at the back that suddenly makes everything feel stable even when he takes his hands away. He starts pushing the free end through the tiny gap in André’s armpit where his arms are squeezed against his sides, cinching the rope into a loop around his upper arm and truly pinning him in place.

“Think so,” André says belatedly, licking his dry lips. He feels slightly drunk with it, and it’s not because of the beers he’d had earlier. 

“Certainly seems like you’re enjoying it,” James says with a hint of a chuckle in his voice, and skims his fingertips over André’s waistband, just above his erection.

“Yeah, and you,” André says, too far gone now to care about escalating things, rocking his ass back to where he can feel James’ cock swelling against the seam of his jeans. 

James does laugh then, a breathless inhale.

They’ve forgotten to talk about their girlfriends, forgotten to keep up the charade that this is purely instructional. André gives it one last attempt, thinking about some cute girl, the one he’d been for drinks with a few weeks ago, maybe–how she’d look tied up like this. 

It’s no use. He doesn’t want to think about doing this to someone else. He wants to concentrate on James, right here, doing it to him.

As the thought occurs to him, James moves away, and André realises he’s completely bound.

He wriggles his shoulders experimentally, tries to squirm his hands out of their bonds. He can barely even open his elbows wide enough to move his wrists.

“Fuck,” he says.

“Easier than it looks, right,” James says, very close behind him again. His breath tickles the curve of André’s neck. He tilts his head to the side. To his relief, James takes the bait, bends to scrape his teeth over the tendons and then lick the reddened skin.

James’ right hand sneaks around his waist, hesitating at the button of his jeans. 

“Can I–” James starts, words trailing off uncertainly.

André instinctively tries to grab James’ hand and press it where he wants it, realises he can’t. He curses under his breath and turns his head to the side, pressing his forehead to James’ cheek.

“Yeah,” André manages to grit out, and James lets out a breath. He pushes a hand into André’s jeans. André’s so hard already, the tip wet where it’s been smearing against the inside of his boxers. He wonders whether James will say anything, whether he thinks it’s weird that André is so desperate already. But James just groans against his neck, very quietly, and presses himself against André’s back.

It’s—there’s so much sensation, the tight constriction of the ropes around his upper body mixed with the sweet pressure of James’ hand moving quick and sure over his cock, the warm weight of him from behind. André twists his torso just to feel the way the ropes dig into the meat of his muscles. 

“Yeah,” James breathes against his shoulder, “that’s it,” and then he’s kissing André’s neck again, properly now: mouth hungry and wet with just a scrape of teeth over André’s feverish skin. His hips are moving on their own now, fucking into the tight seal of James’ fist, threatening to destabilise them both where they’re kneeling. 

He shouldn’t look. Looking will make it real, and if it’s real then that means he’s going to have to deal with the aftermath at some point.

Fuck. He can’t not look.

He opens his eyes and stares down the line of his own body, at the way the ropes have bunched his pecs up, his stiff nipples, and finally James’ slender fingers wrapped around his dripping cock. 

He can’t help moaning at the sight. Can’t help it when his stomach clenches and his balls tighten. Can’t help it when he spills all over James’ eager fingers. 

James doesn’t even wait for him to stop shuddering through the aftershocks, just wraps his other arm around André’s waist—another point of restraint—and grinds himself against André’s arse. His bound hands are crushed between them, the covered head of James’ cock bumping up against the heels of his hands. 

Some part of André, the part he usually keeps buried, aches to pull free of his bindings and cover James with his hand, return the favour properly. But he doesn’t know if those are the rules of the game and anyway it’s too late. James’ breath goes short and choppy, his arm tightening around André’s stomach. He pushes his face into the curve of André’s neck. His hips are the only bit of him still moving, twitching spasmodically against André’s ass as he comes into his underwear.

André closes his eyes again, listens to the sound of their mingling harsh breaths. Eventually he has to squirm, reluctant to disturb the fragile peace but suddenly aware that his shoulders are aching where they’re pulled back. 

The motion seems to wake James up from whatever trance he’d fallen into. “You okay?” he says, voice rough, and then his hands are busy in the small of André’s back, undoing the knots he’d put there. 

André nods as James works to free his arms, the ropes falling loose around his chest. 

It’s a lot quicker for James to free him from his bindings than it was to get him into them. His shoulders relax, the muscles protesting at the sudden change in angle.

“Was that–” James starts, and then falls silent. The knots around André’s wrists loosen. His arms drop to his sides, no longer held. 

André takes a deep breath. “Yeah,” he says. “Good demonstration, huh.”

James swallows audibly behind him. His fingertips brush down André’s spine. 

“There’s more I could show you,” he says. The hesitance in his voice is clear. “If you wanted.”

André closes his eyes, counts to three, and gathers his nerve. He turns to face James. 

“Yeah,” he says, and the lurch in his chest when he sees James’ face relax into a smile is as strong as any orgasm. “Yeah, I’d like that.”

[landoom]

Fanfic - Oscar/Mitch - Dance, love, live

Dance, love, live (665 words) by Aeris444 Chapters: 1/1 Fandom: Formula 1 RPF, Formula E RPF Rating: General Audiences Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply Relationships: Oscar Piastri/Mitch Evans Characters: Oscar Piastri, Mitch Evans Additional Tags: Slow Dancing, Pre-Relationship Series: Part 27 of Formula One Flufftober 2023 Summary: Oscar was bored. He knew he shouldn’t be but he was. This kind of very formal occasion where he was expected to socialise was not his thing. Lando wasn’t even there to make the whole thing a bit more entertaining and Mark who was supposed to accompany him was stuck at home with the flu. So Oscar has ended up going to the FIA gala with Zak only… Zak who loved to talk to strangers and who had disappeared from their table after the first speech.

[neptunium134]

Since Nep has polls now (bad mistake Staff lol) it is time to choose your next story idea for my AO3!

[sassy-classy-fangirl]

I would personally leave my husband if this man knocked at my door 🥵

[33-81]

My cherries and wine, rosemary and thyme

[redsnowdrop]

Formula one Masterlist:

News, Gossip, Info, Fan Fictions, Aesthetic Pictures -The Summary-

-> F1 talks & Cars <-

F1 news; gossip, opinions and a little space for sport cars as well!

-> F1 Fan Fiction’s links <-

Fan fictions’ links; questions…

-> F1 aesthetic pic <-

Drivers’ pictures and quotes. Requests are open!

I will keep each folder updated!

xoxo

[motorsportficexchange]

The Summer Break Fic Exchange is back!

And it's open to all Motorsport fandoms including -

Formula 1 (and all the feeder series),

MotoGP (and all its feeder series),

Formula E,

IndyCar,

WEC.

It’s running on ao3 (since it will do all the matching for me :D)

If you would like to take part, please sign up on ao3:

https://archiveofourown.org/collections/SummerBreakFics2024/signups/new

Gifts are to be:

A 1000 word fic (minimum, longer fics always welcome!)

Schedule:

Sign-up deadline: Friday 12th July at 11:59pm GMT+1

Requests sent out: Sunday 14th July at the latest

Finished fics submitted by: Sunday 18th August at 11:59pm GMT+1

Gift reveal: Friday 23rd August at ~10am GMT

Submissions:

All gifts are to be submitted through ao3

Be proud of your work! I don’t like seeing when writers say that their work isn’t any good, and it isn’t fair on the person receiving the gift.

Please do not publish gifts elsewhere until after August 23rd!

(The surprise is some of the fun!)

If there are any questions please send me a message either through this blog or through one of the contact options on my ao3 profile.

If you need an ao3 invite to take part, drop me a message and I’ll send you out an invite code!

[umlewis]

lewis hamilton is interviewed on media day, monaco - may 23, 2024

[verstappensrealwife]

NEW FIC !

The lewis fic out in like 10 minutes :)

click here to read ! xoxo

partial smut preview underneath

“This is to make up for the last 2 years we’ve missed.” He mumbled against your neck as he pushed you towards the nearest surface, kitchen counter. “God how I've missed you— th-this.”

Your top was somewhere near the door, your shorts not far behind, and now you stood legs apart, chest against the cold of the countertops as he fucked you to no end.

The intensity of the moment was overwhelming, fueled by months, years, of unspoken desires and suppressed emotions. As Lewis's hands roamed hungrily over your skin, every touch ignited a fiery passion that threatened to consume both of you. With each kiss and caress, the weight of the past two years melted away, replaced by a raw and primal need that pulsed between you.

[wolfsbanesbite]

36. Driver A surprises Driver B with a stethoscope after their first race/championship win because they knew they’d been dreaming of getting one but didn’t feel like they deserved it. – Sam/Jev/André ❤

Okay here we go!

He's done it. He's gone and fucking done it. He's won a race for the first time since 2021, and to do it with his new team feels like magic. Pure, utter magic.

He's still riding the high when Jev takes him to the airport later, the two of them traveling back to their home with Andre. Sam cannot wait to be with the two of them again and celebrate this win properly.

When the plane finally lands and they're going through the terminal, Sam spots Andre waiting for them at the gate and he literally runs to the taller man and leaps into his arms for a hug. Andre catches him effortlessly and hugs him tight while whispering how proud he is into his ear. Sam feels on top of the world.

Jev and Andre decide to take Sam to dinner. They take him to one of his favourite restaurants in the city and the night is absolutely perfect. Sam doesn't remember ever feeling this happy. It was almost foreign to him. The hunt for a win after the drought had taken a lot out of him.

Sam is still feeling light and happy when they go back to the apartment and Andre places a hand on his shoulder. "We have a present for you."

"You didn't need to get me anything." Sam says softly, but he's curious as he's lead into the living room and Jev places his hands over his eyes.

Andre moves to take a case out of a cupboard and carefully places it in Sam's outstretched hands. Jev removes his hands and Sam looks at the case curiously.

"Open it." Jev says softly, eyes warm.

Sam gently clicks open the case and lifts the lid. What he sees inside almost makes him drop it.

No. Way.

Inside was a Littmann CORE Digital Stethoscope, 8890. The stethoscope he had always wanted but had told himself he couldn't buy. He hadn't deserved such a beautiful stethoscope when his results on the track were this rubbish.

And now Jev and Andre had bought him it. He has no words. He looks up at his Boyfriends with tears in his eyes. "I...I don't...I don't know what to say. Why?"

Andre looks at him in confusion. "Why what? You wanted this one right? It's the one you had bookmarked?"

"It is. It is the one I wanted...but I didn't think I deserved it..." Sam shakes his head, silently clicking the case closed.

"Sam, you DO deserve it! You won a race! In a spectacular way as well!" Jev tells him, moving over to him.

Sam nods quietly, but his eyes hold doubts. Doubts that break Andre and Jev's hearts.

Sam had been struggling ever since his move to Jaguar had gone wrong. He had withdrawn from them almost. It had knocked his confidence. The only time he had ever seemed at peace was when Jev or Andre let him listen to their hearts, and Sam had always talked about buying a littmann to do so properly.

The fact he was standing there now with the case in his hands and he didn't feel deserving of it? It was heart-breaking.

"Sammy..." Andre takes the case out of his hands and gives it to Jev. He takes Sam's hands in his. "I know you've been struggling after what happened with Jaguar. But we are both here to tell you that you are deserving of nice things. You do deserve the best stethoscope money can buy to listen to that beautiful heart of yours, and to also listen to ours beat for you. We want you to be happy, and listening to our hearts makes you happy. We want you to hear everything. We want you to listen to what you do to our hearts. Sam. You're worth every damn beat it makes."

Sam looks at him, tears running down his cheeks and he moves into Andre's arms in a hug. Andre hugs him back hard and Jev joins in, both of them hugging Sam close and tight.

Sam was worth everything.

When the Brit finally pulls out of their embrace he reaches out for the case and Jev hands it over with a smile.

Sam marvels at the beautiful stethoscope in the case and looks at his Boyfriends, the look on his face something both Jev and Andre understood.

"Is it time for our medical?" Jev asks, his voice low, a smirk on his lips.

Sam swallows hard and he nods. "Yes it is...I want you both ready for me in the examination room."

Andre grins and looks at Jev, "you heard Dr. Bird. We'd better listen to him."

Jev nods seriously and then he and Andre head upstairs to the bedroom.

Sam takes a quick look at the Littmann in the case and then takes a deep breath. He carefully closes the case and carries it upstairs to his waiting Boyfriends...no Patients.

Maybe he did deserve this.

[landoom]

This one is for @gothicflamingolady

Galex - post-sex

“Look at you,” Alex says and just the tone of his voice is enough to make George shivers. That condescending tone, not humiliating but enough to make George feel like he isn’t good, that Alex knows best. “Look at you!” Alex repeats but this time he takes George’s chin between his fingers and forces him to turn his head towards the mirror adorning the wardrobe doors. A recent addition, offering a perfect view of their bed. And so George looks. At his body, lying on the bed, Alex straddling his thighs. At the red lipstick smeared around his lips and at the stains on Alex’s body where he fervently kissed him. He looks at the darkness around his eyes, smeared eyeliner that didn’t resist his tears.  He goes lower, to his shoulder, to the torn strap of his bra. He doesn’t remember how it happened. He doesn’t care. He has another one and Alex will happily buy him more. He looks at his peaking nipples, still sore from Alex’s ministrations, at the way his skin shines with spit and come all over his abs…  He looks ruined. A small moan escapes his lips. “So messy… Aren’t you Georgie?” Alex asks with that tone of voice again. The one that makes George feel a bit dirty, a bit useless.  George nods. “Such a pitiful whore…” Alex continues. “You were all pretty and dolled up for me and look at you now!” George is still looking at his reflection, focusing on the details. The little bruise on his hip, where Alex held him when he came. His spent cock, small and covered in come. His hair, disheveled and mated by sweat. “So debauched, Georgie…” George nods. “And you love it, don’t you? Being messy like that.” George nods again. Yes, he does love this. Feeling used.

[umgeorge]

george russell is interviewed after fp2, spain - june 21, 2024

[chanelnumbermine]

well, we’ve all seen the photos. and it’s true, the blondes just have more fun. enjoy a little insight into how a little summer fun could transform into something more? we’re back in italy and it’s like we never left. tonight, get ready to party, bc rising is coming out! i’ll see you in that bar down the street. wear your favourite dress, never know who might be there!

(ps. it’s already out. protect yourself, kids ;))

[sassy-classy-fangirl]

Age is just a number, especially when you’re a 42 year old Spaniard😍🔥

[33-81]

Nothing in the world belongs to me But my love mine, all mine, all mine

[kanthonyficrecs]

Featured Fic (Modern AU)

Lights Out by RosesAtDawn Rating: E Status: Complete Summary: A weekend break in the country is just what Kate needs. A ‘no boys allowed’ trip to take her mind off her busy life and demanding family, that is until fate intervenes and deposits on her doorstep millionaire playboy and Formula One driver Anthony Bridgerton.