#george russell x reader | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

chilling-seavey · 3 days ago

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First Title, Second Blessing (gr63)

The Way It Goes Masterlist

↳ A/N Oooh boy, this one was a long time coming. Thank you to this anon who was the one who finally triggered me to go all out and write this...in detail. You wanted breeding kink? Well you came to the right place. I hope you all enjoy 😶‍🌫️

↳ Pairings: Husband!Dad!George Russell x Wife!Mom!Reader (NO use of y/n)

↳ Word Count: 13.4k

↳ Warnings: 18+, smut, trying for a baby!!, breeding kink!!, hints of patriarchy kink ('my pretty little wife' vibes), George is such a bossy pleasure dom, dirty talk, begging, nipple play, grinding, brief oral sex (f receiving), restraining with hands/trapping her under his weight, spanking, some biting/spitting, choking, finger sucking, use of a vibrator, crying from pleasure, he gets so deep that it hurts and she likes it, pushing down on her belly, multiple orgasms, it gets messyyy and it gets louddd, sloppy seconds, mentions of queefs and body hair and similiar realistic concepts, unprotected sex and creampie(s) (duh).

Late November

George Russell won his first Championship at the same circuit at which, years earlier, he won his first race. He stood on the top step of the podium, a win to solidify the greatest win of all, and held his trophy aloft as tears poured down his flushed cheeks. He could hardly see the crowd cheering his name through the tears and the spray of champagne, the sound of his heartbeat thudding in his ears and echoing through his head. This was a lifetime accomplishment. His biggest dream, reality.

You had wiped his tears later that afternoon in his driver’s room, kissing them away as you clung onto him. He was still damp from the podium, champagne and drying sweat plastering his hair over his head after his 1st Place Pirelli cap was knocked to the floor in the rush of your embrace. You were just as in disbelief as he was, just as buzzing, praising him over and over in your momentary privacy between post-race responsibilities. When he lifted you up off the ground just a bit, you squealed gleefully into his neck.

There was no better feeling than watching the one you love achieve their greatest dream.

The night after the race was a blur; moving between bars and clubs in the ritziest areas of São Paulo with half the grid and most of the Mercedes team in tow. Flashing lights, loud music, sweaty bodies…George didn’t leave your side for the majority of the night, always keeping you within arms reach. You didn’t return to your hotel room until daybreak, donning last-night's clothes and the lingering scent of other people’s sweat and spilled alcohol.

On the chartered private jet that morning, sharing the cabin with a few of the other drivers who doubled as George’s friends, everyone was uncharacteristically quiet. Lando was curled up against the window, his bucket hat pulled low over his eyes and hoodie nearly swallowing him, groaning outwardly about his mega hangover. Charles, across from him, who at least had the smarts to be drinking water, couldn’t have rolled his eyes farther back if he tried. Oscar and Alex were already fast asleep beside them.

Across the aisle, you and George were curled up together like honeymooners. On the seats across from you, his commemorative bottle of champagne sat in its protective wooden box. Despite the raging hangovers that your friends were facing from the partying the night before, you and George were delightfully calm—albeit exhausted.

You had been surprised that no one realized both you and he had been avoiding alcohol all night, apart from one celebratory glass of champagne and one group shot of tequila near the beginning. Surprisingly, the night was still just as wonderful sober…perhaps it was the adrenaline still coursing through the both of you that allowed you to feel just as drunk as the rest of your group. It all felt a little scandalous to have been avoiding alcohol in bars all night but you had a plan and you were set on sticking to it. Besides, not being hungover for a twelve-hour flight was a bonus.

You and George slept most of the flight, cuddled up and leaning on each other in as comfortable a position as you could manage on an airplane. With a stopover in Nice to drop off your Monaco-residing friends, the private jet then took the two of you home to London.

It was mid-morning when you landed in England and after retrieving George’s car from the valet, you headed towards your town. It was a stunning autumn day, surprisingly sunny with sprawling blue skies over multi-coloured trees and harvested fields. The countryside of England always revealed its true beauty under all the dreariness that often took up the landscape.

It felt good to be home. Normal. Normal amidst the fact that everything was different now; George was the newest World Champion and, soon, his name would be on the trophy and displayed alongside other greats in the hall of fame. Compared to the excitement that burned within you, Cambridgeshire felt so calm.

You stopped for lunch in town at some family restaurant that you and George always liked. While you ate and shared ramblings and recaps of the race and the season (that both of you were already immensely familiar with) together, a few fans came past your table to politely ask for photos or autographs. George, beaming, happily complied. You played your role of photographer where you could.

George’s family, of course, wanted to celebrate his big win with him, but they also understood that after a grueling race weekend and a long-haul flight, an immediate visit might not be feasible. You were grateful for their patience—and even more so for the fact that his parents were still looking after your son, just as they had all week while you both were in Brazil. Besides, the little boy would never complain about one more night with his grandparents.

With your toddler away, your house was strangely quiet when you finally stepped over the threshold after nearly twenty-four hours of travel. George let out a relieved sigh as he set his suitcase down against the wall of the foyer as if he had just returned from half a year abroad.

“Wow,” said George, simply, “Home.”

You turned to face him, taking in the way he stood there, hands on his hips, looking around the familiar space as if seeing it anew. The weight of everything—the season, the victory, the sheer exhaustion of travel—hung between you for a moment. So much had changed in the span of a year or even just a few months.

You curled your arms around his middle and leaned in to kiss the corner of his mouth with a sweet, “Welcome home, World Champion.”

His eyes met yours fondly, his shoulders relaxing slightly at the familiar sight of you, and he slid his arms around you as you melted against his chest in a tender embrace. His movements were unhurried, calm, relaxed, finally able to take it slow after a season of fast paced adrenaline, finding refuge in your presence.

“Thank you, my love.”

He gave you a quick kiss to your lips. The silence of the large farmhouse after the ear-piercing excitement and noise of the last week was a stark comparison; equal parts strange and relaxing.

After a moment to adjust to your arrival home, you led the way upstairs with the large wooden box containing the bottle of champagne in your arms, George trailing after you with your modest suitcases. The silence of the large farmhouse after the ear-piercing excitement and noise of the last week was a stark comparison; equal parts strange and relaxing.

Once in your shared bedroom, you rested the box on the dresser and George sat the suitcases down on the floor. Just like he always did as soon as he returned home, he knelt down and unzipped his suitcase right away and started to pull out the dirty laundry to put away.

“I don’t think it’s settled in yet, you know?” he said to you over his shoulder as he gathered his laundry and carried it into the walk-in closet to toss it in the hamper, “It feels so surreal; winning it. Almost like, ‘now what?’.”

In reply came your casual hummed “mhm” of acknowledgement.

When he stepped back into the bedroom, the sight of you in only your bra and thong and kneeling in the centre of your neatly made king size bed as if waiting patiently had him halting in his tracks in surprise. You nibbled at your bottom lip at his stunned expression, trying to hide the bashful smile that was creeping its way across your face.

His eyes trailed down your body as if unable to take his eyes off you, wanting to take in every inch, before he mumbled out a breathy, “Jesus, love…”

You giggled softly, “What?”

He continued to stare at you, “You can't just show up on the bed in nothing but a bra and panties…”

“Why not?” you asked cheekily,

“Because…” George faded out with an exasperated sigh despite the obvious smile on his face and he set his hands on his hips. In reality, he had no excuse, no reason. You had a way of short-circuiting his brain in moments like this and especially when it was a complete surprise and the last thing he expected the moment they got home.

Filling in the momentary silence, you cocked your head to the side in a sweet manner, asking in a voice that was almost a purr, “Wanna come put a baby in me?”

Your simple request had his eyelashes fluttering through his deep inhale, as if letting your words wash over him entirely.

George knew—very well, thank you—that you had agreed to start trying for another baby after the season ended or when he won the Title, whichever came first. Now, back home in your empty house after his Championship winning race, both of you having forgone alcohol the night before regardless of how hard everyone was partying just for the sake of a successful future conception, there was a very obvious intent in the air.

You watched as he took a step towards the bed, his eyes never leaving your body, his voice a low, teasing, “Are you really that impatient? Couldn’t even let us unpack first?”

“Mhm,” you answered plainly with a sweethearted smile, “Peak ovulation is tomorrow so we gotta get a move on.”

George, now standing at the side of the bed, placed a knee on the edge of the mattress to draw himself closer to you, his eyes roaming over your body once more, “Naughty little minx.”

You licked your lips as he knelt in front of you in the middle of your shared bed, protesting despite your smile, “It’s not naughty.”

“Ripping all your clothes off and demanding me to put a baby in you is pretty naughty to me,” George countered, his hands falling to your bare waist and gave you a squeeze.

Your nose brushed against his ever so slightly, taunting him with a gentle, “Well, are you still up for it, Champion?”

George’s chuckle was low, tilting his face just enough to exchange the bump of your noses for a graze of your lips, the simple action shooting a spark of heat through you. He left the faintest kiss to your lips, barely there, taunting, before muttering, “Of course, I definitely think I want to celebrate properly.”

Your face naturally turned towards his as he drew closer, your eyes all over his familiar features and your hands sliding up his chest and to his shoulders. He leaned in to kiss you deeply, lips pressed to yours in a kiss backed with passion and need, as if he had been holding himself back for days. With the Championship on the line, it had been hard to focus on anything else but, now, with that out of the way, everything that once felt secondary came rushing back.

You couldn’t deny the need that had been growing within you since the middle of that weekend. Perhaps it was the fact that the race weekend aligned all too perfectly with your ovulation, or perhaps it was the fact that seeing your husband finally achieve his childhood dream, standing on the top of the world, dedicating his win to your family, stirred something raw and wanting within you. George was your everything, your little family was everything, and you would give him the world if you could.

His large hands groped the doughy flesh over your hips a little tighter as if trying to pull you closer, his lips smacking wetly with yours as your kisses grew more desperate. Kneeling in front of each other in the middle of your bed, it almost felt as though you were about to partake in a faceoff, arms wrapping around each other until there was virtually no space left between you. With him still fully dressed and you mostly naked, your perfectly quiet house welcomed the sound of your sloppy kisses.

“Mm,” George hummed lowly as he broke away from your lips and trailed heated kisses down your neck, “I’ve been thinking about getting you naked all day…and all last night.”

“I’m offering myself up to you now,” you purred.

“Yeah, you are,” he praised, hands sliding down to grab your ass and pull you impossibly closer, just enough so you could feel the tightness over the front of his slacks, “Such a good girl for me.”

You let out a pretty moan at his tug, your arms still wrapped around his shoulders and fingers curling into the material of his shirt, eyes fluttering closed and teeth sinking into your bottom lip. Neither of you had showered after your lengthy flight or had a proper sleep outside of the luxury private jet seats but nothing of the sort mattered at that moment. Instead, husband and wife, all too comfortable with each other after years of devotion and infatuation, you wanted each other just as strongly as ever. It couldn’t wait.

George’s hands groped your ass and one pulled back to give you a small spank, the sharp sound echoing through your quiet bedroom. You gasped tightly and arched into him as his hands slid up your back and blindly found the clasp of your bra as he kissed and nipped at your neck.

“Give me this, now…” he mumbled against your skin, with that rich addicting lust to his voice that always had your panties soaked.

His fingers worked nimbly at the clasp of your bra as if he needed it gone as soon as possible. Ever the expert at taking off your bra, he had it unclasped in a second and you moved your arms off his shoulders to help him get it off you entirely. He tossed it to the floor without a second look and slung an arm around your waist as he dipped down to take one of your nipples in his mouth.

Your head dropped back with a pleasured gasp and your fingers tangled in the back of his hair to keep his mouth on your chest. George’s strong arm tugged harder around your waist, keeping you flush against him with your hips against his as he bent down to suck on your breasts. With his tongue swirling around one of your nipples, his free hand tended to the other with purposeful tugs and rolls between thumb and forefinger, getting them nice and hard and already causing your insides to stir with arousal. It was almost embarrassingly easy for you to get turned on when you were ovulating and George always made the most of that fact over the years, using it to his advantage just to see how much you could take until you were nearly sobbing for it.

George pulled away from your breast to tend to the other, dragging his tongue over your nipple first before taking it in his mouth with a greedy suck, framing it with his large hand around the expanse of your skin. He squeezed and showered you in tongue-led kisses and possessive suckles that left blushing red marks across your chest. Your fingers locked in the roots of his hair and the slight tug had him groaning against your breast and pulling away with a wet pop.

His lips were back on yours in an instant, swallowing you up in a fierce kiss that ripped the air from your lungs. Even after your years together, he still knew how to kiss you breathless. You couldn’t help but tug at the back of his shirt over his shoulders as he kissed you, pulling at the fabric until a sliver of his back was exposed to the room. George took the hint and broke away from your kiss just long enough to pull his shirt over his head and toss it to the floor, leaving him in just his slacks that were already tenting across the front. Sparks crackled between you as his hands grabbed your hips and he leaned in to kiss you again, nearly bending you backwards a little with how insistent he was with it. Your arms slung around his now bare shoulders and your tongue pushed against his as if wanting to taste just how much he craved you.

“God, you’re fucking perfect,” George groaned into your mouth between sloppy kisses, his hands roaming all over your bare body as if mapping the familiar expanse of your skin, “and all mine.”

“All yours,” you echoed dreamily.

His lips ghosted across your cheek, his hot breath against your neck and his voice almost slurred with lust, “All fucking mine.”

George’s hands slid down to the backs of your thighs and he heaved you up off your knees so you fell backwards onto the mattress and decorative throw pillows with a surprised squeal. The two of you shared light laughter as he situated himself over top of you and dipped down to kiss you some more, your hands raising to the side of his face to hold his lips on yours. Your giggles faded into the focus of your passionate kisses, heat pouring through your veins with him positioned over top of you like that, so easily able to take you over.

Instinctively, your legs had parted to allow him to settle between them and he blindly dropped a hand down to pull one of your legs tight around his waist. You moaned softly into his mouth, body arching underneath him to try and get situated into that perfect angle that would have your bodies fitting together like puzzle pieces. George’s hand took advantage of your momentary arch, sliding his arm under the small of your back to tug you into place so his thighs were trapping yours outwards, holding you in place.

Your fingers tangled in the roots of his hair as he rolled his body against yours so you could feel the bulge in the front of his pants pressing right up between your legs, his bare chest aligned with yours, lips locked in a fiery kiss. George licked the soft moan from your mouth and when he pulled away for a moment, his teeth sunk into your bottom lip.

His eyes found yours in your close proximity—only centimeters apart—both of you already a little breathless, staring into each other’s lust-filled gaze. The gorgeous blue of his irises was almost entirely diluted to black from his pupils from just one look at you and a little taste of your lips. When he looked at you like that, in moments such as those, any possible doubt of his love for you was wiped from your mind. No one had ever looked at you like that before him, and no one would after him. There was only him.

“George…” you breathed, wrapping your legs around his waist and linking your ankles together behind his back while your thumb grazed over his kiss-swollen bottom lip.

He spoke your name in reply, just as soft and tender before pressing a slow kiss to the pad of your thumb. Framed by his forearms on either side of you, you were pleasantly trapped by him and cradled by the decorative pillows of your marital bed.

George closed the miniscule distance between you, gently pressing his lips to yours in a tender kiss. One…and then two, and then a third; slow, soft, gentle, still staring into each other’s eyes under heavy eyelids. You squirmed a little, arms snaking behind his biceps to rest against his shoulders and your legs tightening around his waist to lock him against you as the anticipation was driving you mad. He gave you one more tender kiss before dipping down towards your neck, attaching his lips just under your jaw in a manner that felt a hell of a lot more intense than the kisses he had just sweetened you up with.

Your mouth fell open with a silent gasp, clinging onto his shoulders tighter as your head arched back a little to give him room. George trailed down your neck in wet open-mouthed kisses, teasing your most sensitive spots with his tongue and making you shiver with soft breaths across the damp skin. But it was the sudden roll of his hips against yours that pulled an audible gasp from your chest, your fingers pressing into his muscular back at the same time, taunted by what you wanted most.

George was already so hard and you could feel him through his slacks, tenting the fabric over his straining erection, proof that he had been wanting this all weekend just as urgently as you. It was growing uncomfortable, how wet you were getting, and you pushed your hips up against his to chase some more of that friction. He moaned against your neck at your needy action, grinding a little harder down against you to keep you pinned underneath him.

“You sure you're ready for this?” he asked huskily against your ear, his body rutting strongly against yours.

“Yeah,” you exhaled as you tightened your ankles around him to pull him impossibly closer, hands splaying over his exposed back, miles of muscle under your possessive palms. He ground against you stronger, more insistently, pulling another whining gasp from your throat, “I need it so bad. Need you to knock me up.”

“You need it, huh?” he taunted, his voice dripping with need before he nipped at your earlobe, his breath hot against your skin, “You want me to put a baby in you, right here and now?”

“Ugh,” you withered, eyelids fluttering at his words and body squirming underneath him, “Please, George.”

George pried your legs away from his waist so he could sit back on his knees and then he gave your thigh a little tap with a soft, “Hang on, let me push down the covers.”

You frowned reluctantly up at him, already comfortable where you were and already falling into that blissed out mindset. The last thing you wanted to do was move.

He smiled at your pout—not even needing to hear your protest to know what you were thinking—and reminded you with a cock of his head to get you to comply, “Come on. We’re not going to want to have to wash the duvet after.”

Of course he was right, so you shifted to help him pull back the covers to the foot of the bed so you were draped out on the fitted sheet and, then, rightfully back in your cozy spot amongst the decorative pillows.

George didn’t miss a beat as he eased you back into the comfort of his touch by trailing wet kisses down your body, starting from your neck. He kissed over your collarbones and your breasts and sucked on your nipples a little more just to make you writhe and moan under his touch before moving down your stomach. He pushed your thighs towards your chest and dragged his nose between your legs over the damp fabric of your panties. You could hear him inhale, breathing in the scent of your arousal. All because of him.

Your hand carded through his hair as he settled between your legs and his long eyelashes rested on his flushed cheeks as he pressed a slow open mouthed kiss over your clothed clit. It barely felt like anything but was still just enough that you flinched in anticipation, whining to the ceiling with need for more. You tugged a little at his hair, urging him to leave another slow kiss to the apex of your thighs, right over the spot where the fabric of your thong was hugged by your lips.

“You’re teasing…” you warned in a breath.

George smiled cheekily against you, raising his eyes to yours with his face still hidden between your legs and his arms wrapped around your thighs as he kissed your pussy again. You were so wet that despite your underwear, when he pulled away, a faint string of your arousal connected his lips to you.

George exhaled shakily and slid his fingers down over the fabric of your panties, almost able to see how you throbbed underneath them. He leaned in for another kiss, leading with his tongue for a teasing taste, still taunting you behind the protection of your underwear. When he pulled away again, he pressed the pad of his thumb down over your clothed clit. His voice was a low rumble, “Can’t believe how soaked you are already…Jesus.”

You laughed softly, raking your fingers through his hair as he turned his head to kiss your inner thigh and you answered him softly, “Don’t you love when I’m—”

“Ovulating? Yeah.” he answered for you, words muffled between his kisses along the supple skin of your inner thigh, trailing back towards your cunt. His firm hands kept you legs out of the way as he nuzzled his face closer and inhaled deeply before he let it out with a hungry moan and a muttered, “Fuck, you smell so good, too.”

“God, that’s so fucking hot, baby…” you exhaled, hips naturally trying to push up against his face.

George lifted himself up from between your legs just enough to press his hands into the mattress on either side of your body and he nipped at the soft flesh of your hip before sucking a little hickey into the skin. The perfectly made bed sheets wrinkled under the two of you as George sat back on his knees between your spread legs and he hooked his fingers in the waistband of your thong, tugging on it slowly, “Let’s get these off you.”

You lifted your hips for him as he started to pull your underwear down over your hips. The damp fabric clung to your pussy as he peeled them away and you shivered as the cool air of the air conditioned bedroom grazed over your bare skin. George’s eyes were trained in on your dripping cunt even as he guided your thong down your bent legs and off your ankles with a habitual lick to his lips, dropping the soiled fabric to the bed beside you without a second glance.

He kept his eyes on you as he started to unbutton his slacks, positioned on his knees between your spread legs, taking in your naked body splayed out before him. The need that had been growing within you had your hand reaching down to touch yourself, trying to ease some of the immense ache that was starting to feel rather unbearable. You were so wet that you both could hear it as you slid your fingers between your legs and gathered up some of that delicious wetness to rub over your clit.

George shifted to get out of his slacks and he dropped them off the end of the bed, leaving him in only his boxers that did a very poor job at concealing his very obvious erection. Otherwise naked apart from the ring on his left hand, George situated himself between your spread legs and his hand joined yours over your pussy, nudging you aside so he could have full reign of you, smearing your growing wetness around a little more himself. Your hands wrapped around his biceps as you stared adoringly up at him as he touched you.

With your legs parted wide for him, the utmost trust shared between you, you sank your teeth into your bottom lip as you stared up at his face, watching his lust-filled expression as he watched how his careful fingertips caressed your pussy. George pulled his hand back for a second to take the tips of his three middle fingers into his mouth to moisten them up a little more before dropping them back down to continue where he left off. Little, gentle swirls over your clit…down to your leaky pussy…back up.

Your toes curled at the sensations, how gentle and precise he was being, knowing just how to touch you. You let out a little pleasant hum, squirming a little beneath him. When your grip tightened around his bicep, he tore his eyes away from your cunt to meet your gaze.

“You’re so fucking wet for me,” George said lowly, “Dripping all over my hand already and I’ve barely even touched you.”

He tilted his hand to rub the full length of his fingers along your pussy, hearing the slick wet sound of just how wet you were. You whined and squirmed a little, spreading your legs wider to welcome more of his touch.

“Fuck, look at you,” George exhaled, pulling his fingers back to see how they were still attached to your messy cunt in thick strings of wetness. He rubbed his fingertips together and then brought them to his mouth to lick off, some of it dripping down his forearm in the process. With a quick suck of the tips of his three fingers, he dropped them back down to rub at your clit in firm, precise circles, purring out a low, “My messy girl.”

You reached your hands down to curl your fingers in the waistband of his underwear in an attempt to remove the last article of clothing between you. But, in an instant, George’s fingers were wrapping around your wrists to stop you and he leaned over you to pin them down beside your head.

“Be a good girl and let me do what I want with you,” he spoke firmly with that unmissable lust in his voice.

With his hands still pinning your wrists down, George shuffled a little closer so your thighs were held back by his, allowing him to push his hips down against yours once more. You stared up into his eyes as he settled, your mouth falling open with a mute gasp at the feeling of his hard cock pushed right up against your naked cunt, only separated by his boxers. He was so fucking hard and your eyes fluttered at the feeling, choking out a small sound as he rolled his hips against yours.

It felt so insanely good, heat coursing through your veins, every touching feeling like fire thanks to how needy and sensitive you were due to that time of your cycle. Your natural urge to reproduce skyrocketed during ovulation and the fact that you were finally going to be able to lean into that humanistic desire without holding back made it all the more intense and thrilling.

“Fuck, darling—” you whimpered out, back arching off the bed a little to meet his grinds.

“Mm, that’s it…” George exhaled heavily. His hands tightened around your wrists and he rutted against you a little harder until the tent at the front of his boxers was fitting between your swollen lips, rocking against you with every few words, “Show me how much you want me…soak me…that’s it.”

Your eyes screwed shut and your head tilted back with a broken whine, hands bunching into fists where he held them down on either side of your head as the overwhelm so quickly took you over. You pulled your legs back by your own free will, desperate to feel more of him, unable to control the pathetic whines that were tumbling from your lips even as your teeth sunk into your bottom one.

Heaving your head up to look between you at the limited to no space between your chests, you could already feel yourself getting breathless, spurred on by the friction of him rutting against you. You could hardly lay still as the feeling grew and your legs wrapped around his waist to tug him harder down on top of you. George grunted faintly, shifting his hands off your wrists to, instead, intertwine his fingers with yours to hold your hands, still pinning them to the pillows beside your head.

“Kiss me,” you pleaded desperately, “Please, baby, kiss me.”

George didn’t need to be asked twice and he dipped down to capture your lips with his in a steamy kiss. The two of you shared hungry groans into each other’s mouths, made ungraceful by the way he was rutting against you. Your hands clutched onto his tightly, grounding yourself in his touch, while your legs around his waist encouraged you to try and meet his motions, the desperation that coursed through you making you writhe needily against his body and the bed.

But then he was pulling away again; letting go of your hands and sitting back on his knees. Before you had a chance to complain about the loss of contact, you were distracted by the large wet stain smeared over his clothed erection thanks to the way he had been grinding against you and, almost immediately, he was shoving down his briefs. The sight of his impressively hard cock had your mouth watering like it so often did, staring shamelessly at it and the way it bobbed in the air as he shuffled to get his underwear off completely.

When you reached down to try and touch him, he nudged your hand aside with a simple, “Roll over. Hands and knees.”

You giggled sweetly and the implication of what was coming had your stomach filling with eager butterflies, helping you float yourself from your back onto your stomach. On your knees and flat hands in the centre of your shared bed, you presented yourself to him with a little wiggle of your hips, luring him in. As if he needed any luring.

George’s hand came down hard against one of your cheeks in a sharp spank, forcing your body to tense in momentary surprise, pulling in a gasp, before relaxing. Another giggle fell from your lips as you glanced back at him over your shoulder, flinging your hair out of the way in the process. Another spank.

“There you go,” George praised you warmly, shuffling up closer on his knees until he could drag the head of his cock between your lips, “my pretty girl. My pretty wife.”

“Put it in,” you whined, trying to push back on him to do it yourself.

George’s breath shuddered at your blunt request, only letting the tip of his dick prod at the sopping entrance of your pussy as his hand came across your ass again in an echoing spank. He rubbed his hand over your flesh that had started to blossom in a pretty shade of light pink from his strikes, warning you in soft reprimand, “Is that any way to speak to your husband?”

“Please,” you tried again, “please, George, I need you so fucking bad, darling—”

He held your hip with one hand while his other kept himself steady to slowly sink inside you and, when he was in halfway, he had a two-handed grip on your hips to slowly pull you deeper onto him. Your eyes fluttered shut with a soft, quivering whine at the stretch, fingers curling into the fitted sheet beneath you.

“There ya go,” George purred, slowly starting to thrust into you in lazy motions, “does that feel good, darling? Getting nice and full and stretched out on my cock? That’s what you wanted?”

“Yeah…” you withered.

“Yeah?”

“Yeah, you’re so big,” you spoke dreamily, arching your back a little more to take him deeper, “Feels so fucking good.”

George let out a little pleasant hum of acknowledgement, keeping his large hands on your hips as he found a steady pace. His fingers pressed a little tighter into the flesh of your doughy hips, made fuller after birthing your son and one of George’s most favourite parts of you. So feminine, so maternal, so his.

“Delicious fucking body,” he moaned under his breath, starting to shove into you a little faster, “Just perfect to bear my children.”

“Yeah…” you whimpered, gasping out at his increase in pace, “wanna have your babies.”

“Oh, I know you do, sweet girl,” George cooed, countering his silky sweet voice with a sharp spank across your ass.

He took hold of your hips again, almost pulling you into his every thrust by his firm grip as he started to ram into you harder. You squealed as he hit deeper, harder, giving you every single inch until your eyes were rolling shut and your head dropped downwards with overwhelm.

“Fuck!” you shrieked, just louder than the clap of skin on skin that nearly echoed through the bedroom.

George moaned heartily from behind you, keeping his relentless pace going with his hands grabbing your hips so hard that there was certainly going to be fingerprints left behind. Without faltering, he moved his right hand underneath you and his hand splayed over your stomach, equally holding you together and feeling the way your body bounced in time with his every hard thrust. He panted handsomely behind you, laced in with soft moans that only heightened your senses tenfold. You loved that he could make you feel good, but it was even better knowing that you could make him feel good simultaneously.

His hand glided a little lower to get his fingertips on your clit and he rubbed messy circles right over that spot while he kept fucking you from behind. You cried out his name at the sudden stimulation, one hand flying forward to slam against the wall above the headboard for support, swearing you were seeing stars.

“Pull my hair,” you groaned pleadingly as if desperate to feel him absolutely everywhere you could, “Pull my hair and tell me you’ll knock me up.”

With his right hand still messily tending to your clit as he fucked you, George reached up with his other hand to grab a handful of your hair and he yanked it back, forcing your head up. You moaned loudly as the simple action tore electricity through you and you pushed yourself back into his thrusts until the lewd sound of your bodies colliding only filled the room more.

“You want that?” George taunted from behind you, his hand tightening in your hair, “Want to hear just how much I want to put a fucking baby in you right now?”

“Oh fuck…please!” you groaned.

“Please, what?” he asked hungrily from behind you, taking his hand from your clit to grab your shoulder as he picked up the pace a little more until the bed was creaking beneath you.

“Ahh!” you shrieked at his change in pace and angle, “Please come in me!”

George had a smirk to his voice—you could hear it despite the pleasure that overtook the both of you, binding you together—with his hands still firmly on your shoulders and almost yanking you back into his rough thrusts as he replied between breaths, “Yeah? You want me…to come in your pussy, baby? Keep this up…all night long?”

“Yeah, fuck, fill me up all night.” you withered, the words just pouring out of your mouth without thought, “Keep coming in me until it just leaks out—”

Just as you were falling into that dizzy cloud of pleasure-drunk euphoria, he stopped completely, fully inside you, letting out a strangled groan and a strained, “Fuck, okay, wait…”

You panted to try and catch your breath, trying to get your senses back with how fucking out of your mind you had been mere milliseconds earlier, “What?”

George exhaled strongly through pursed lips, his breathlessness just as apparent as yours, confessing, “I almost just fucking came…I need a second…”

“So what?” you countered, pushing your ass back on him to lazily and impatiently fuck yourself on his cock, “I want it.”

George took a hand back to give your ass a small smack through slightly slurred words, “Yeah, and I want to give you as much of me as possible, not three fuckin’ strokes.”

You chuckled softly, using that brief moment to catch your breath as he pulled out of you entirely. The sudden emptiness had you letting out a slight wince at the change and you moved yourself to be flat onto your stomach instead, draped diagonally across the bed and wrapping your arms around one of the pillows that were still somehow in place. George leaned over you and pulled open the bedside table drawer to find something, his warm skin pressing tacky against yours.

In your slight impatience, you glanced over at his hand buried in the drawer with a small sigh but you didn’t even have a chance to ask what he was looking for before he emerged with your favourite vibrator. You smiled as he passed it into your hand and pressed a kiss to your temple before he was situating himself behind you again. Adjusting yourself underneath him, now flat on your stomach, you pushed your ass up just enough to help him get his cock angled properly and for you to fit your hand under your body.

“Good?” you asked over your shoulder, feeling the way he dragged the head of his dick through the creamy mess of you.

“Mhm,” George set one hand down on the bed beside you as he leaned over you a little more and started to press inside you, “Ready?”

“Yeah,” you couldn’t keep the smile out of your voice.

Your husband sank into you slowly just so you could savour the feeling of him stretching you out again, not to mention the low handsome moan he let out as he sheathed himself inside you as deep as he could go. You took a deep breath, pushing your hips up a little until you could feel the skin of his pelvis against your ass, eyelids fluttering at the fullness. George leaned down to kiss your shoulder blade before easing back and then pushing into you again.

“Wow, can’t believe a World Champion is fucking me right now,” you giggled teasingly, voice a little tight from pleasure, “I’m such a lucky lady.”

“Shut up,” George laughed breathily.

“Mmm,” you let your eyes flutter shut to focus on the feeling of his long deep strokes and, beneath your body, your hand pressed and held the power button on your vibrator until the soft buzzing sound filled the room. The touch of it against your sensitive clit had you gasping slightly, one arm still wrapped around the pillow under your head and your fingers pressed into the fabric a little tighter.

George moved down onto his forearms on either side of your head so his chest was almost entirely pressed against your back, his hips shoving a little harder against yours, jiggling the flesh of your ass with every thrust. You could feel his hot breath against your ear, even through your mess of hair that tumbled around your head, and when he reached a hand up to brush your hair over your shoulder so he could see your face, you couldn’t help the dreamy smile that came to your lips.

“There we go,” George panted, “Such a good girl for me.”

You adjusted the vibrator between your legs until it reached just the right spot, and, when it did, it rendered you speechless for a moment. The tumble of moans that fell from your lips were nearly fucked out of you from the way George was fucking you so deliciously, sharp precise thrusts that only helped to have your eyes fluttering closed and your teeth to sink into your bottom lip. His strong arms framed your head on either side of you, trapping you underneath him with almost all of his body weight on top of you. Regardless, you still tried to keep your hips lifted up enough to present yourself to him.

“Fuck, yeah, just like that—” you breathed out shakily

“Gonna make you come first,” George spoke lowly against your temple, “I want you…nice and open and relaxed…to take every last drop.”

“Please,” you gasped out.

The combination of the way he fucked you and the added sensations of the vibrator had you seeing stars, nearly drooling into the pillow beneath your head with the pleasured moans that tumbled from your lips. It was all so intense that your body must have started to flatten out to try and get away from it that George had to slide an arm under your hips to pull them back up just enough to keep you at the perfect position for him to take. You squealed into the pillow, struggling to keep holding your vibrator on your clit with how strong it was feeling, the warmth stirring hot in your belly and stretching through your veins.

“Come on,” he panted, hips snapping relentlessly against yours, “I’m not going to give you what you want until you come for me.”

You couldn’t help the broken cry that fell from your chest, eyes rolling shut, and you tried to smother your sounds into the pillow with your free hand clutching desperately at it. It ramped up fast, the feeling of your orgasm washing over you strong enough to make your limbs tremble and jerk beneath him. George groaned tightly at the feeling of you squeezing around him like a vice, making it harder to keep fucking you through it, but he kept it going.

“Good girl,” he praised strongly, slowing down just a little to give you a second to catch your breath as you gasped and groaned out of it.

You heaved your head from the pillow with a blissed out expression and heavy eyelids, lips swollen from biting them so hard with how tightly wound that had got you. You pulled your hand out from underneath you and turned off your vibrator, the silicone shimmering slightly from how wet you were and how you had leaked all over it. The toy was discarded aimlessly across the mattress, giving you both hands free to wrap back around the pillow as George adjusted himself on top of you again.

He set his forearms down on either side of you, sliding one under your collarbones and the other around your head, caging you in his loving arms. As he started to thrust into you a little harder and a little faster again, he let out a pretty grunt against your ear. With your cheek against the mattress, your mouth fell open with a soft gasp of pleasure, still drunk off the orgasm he had just given you and still feeling the aftershocks making your cunt pulse around his every thrust.

“Fuck,” George groaned thickly, “Jesus Christ, you’re so wet—”

“All for you,” you purred, all too aware, yourself, to the sounds of your sopping cunt taking his every thrust, harmonized by the creak of the bed beneath his efforts. Your hands moved to grasp his biceps, digging your nails into his muscle, grounding yourself in him, even as you tried to lift your ass up a little to meet his motions.

He was taking it a little harder now, shoving into you in firm thrusts with his entire body on top of you, the headboard starting to hit the wall in a steady rhythm. You swore he was as deep as he could go, feeling like you could feel every fucking inch of him plowing into you in quick succession, blurring the line between pleasure and pain until your nails were digging into his biceps.

“Fuck, you’re so deep, George—” you withered, eyes rolling shut, “Fuck, it hurts so fucking good. Please don��t stop!”

"Yeah, you like that, huh?" he mumbled against your temple, his tone full of smug satisfaction, "You like it when it hurts a little bit, don’t you?"

A string of words tumbled nonsensically from your lips, “Yeah, yeah, fuck, please—”

George’s breath fell hot against your cheek, his voice thick with lust and the exertion, his skin slick with sweat pressed right against yours until you couldn’t quite tell where you ended and he began. The filthy words were spoken right against your ear, felt through every nerve ending in your body, “You’re just my sweet obedient little wife, aren’t you? Just meant to be knocked up…just meant to be held down and fucking filled.”

You took one hand from his bicep to grab the edge of the mattress, feeling your body writhing beneath his weight as he fucked you face down into the bed, his strong arms caging you in. The sounds poured from your lips almost completely involuntarily, feeling entirely taken over by him, filled with this desire for him to just take you how he wanted. It had never felt so intensely primal before—even when you were trying for your son—so raw and real, like you felt like you might have actually died if he didn’t get you pregnant.

“Please,” you choked out again, eyes brimming with tears, fingers clawing at the sheets and his bicep, “Please, I need it…need you to come inside me…please—”

“Oh, my girl, you want my babies that badly?” he purred against your ear, breath hot, “How many y'gonna give me? Two? Three? A whole squad, yeah?”

“Whatever you want…however many you want…please, sir, please—” you sobbed over the sound of the headboard hitting the wall.

“Fuck, listen to you beg…so fucking pretty,” George groaned through his teeth.

He moved a hand to wrap his slender fingers around your throat, pulling your head out of the pillow so you were gaping towards the wall with the dumbest expression of pleasure on your flushed face. It felt like a nearly out of body experience it was so good, your entire body tingling with need and still immensely sensitive from your orgasm, making his every hard thrust feel like perfection. You barely acknowledged his two fingers pressing their way into your mouth, accepting them without complaint with your lips wrapping around them with a pleasured whine.

George’s breath was panted hot against your skin, laced in with the odd moan, parted and swollen lips grazing your cheek. He ploughed into you at that same relentless pace but as the seconds passed, it started to get a little sloppier, a little more desperate.

“Shit, I’m gonna come—” he grunted, voice thick.

You could hardly mutter another pathetic “please” around his fingers, trying to lift your hips up to invite him deeper, even if he had you entirely pinned under his weight and was as deep as he could go. In only a few more seconds, his body shuddered on top of you, head dropping forward onto your shoulder, and he gave you one more sharp thrust as deep as he possibly could. With a handsome gasping moan from your husband, you could feel the thick warmth spurting inside you as he ground into you in small pleasured spasms.

“Ooh, my God…” you withered, toes curling at the sensation and fingers tightening around the fitted sheet and pillows beneath you. You swore you were literally salivating, a blissed out smile coming to your lips as he gave you what you wanted.

“Can you feel that?” George panted from on top of you, his pelvis pressed tightly against your ass, giving you every inch to feel the way his cock twitched dully inside you, throbbing against your tight muscles and spilling more right at your cervix, “It’s still coming.”

“Yeah, keep it in there,” you breathed, reaching a hand back to grab his thigh to keep him from pulling out.

“I know, baby,” George’s hand stroked over your frazzled hair, his voice warm and thick, “That’s all for you.”

When he finally finished coming, the two of you stayed where you were for a moment longer, catching your breaths. George leaned down to trail some kisses along your neck, loosening his arms from around you to give you a bit of space.

“Jesus…” he whispered, his voice ragged and rough as his senses started to come back to him, “That was...that was intense.”

You giggled blissfully and, with him still inside you and now motionless, you ground your ass back on him a little to make sure you got every last drop.

“Ugh, honey,” George groaned tightly, leaning back from you a little more to press a hand on the small of your back to hold you still, “Don’t do that.”

“Why?” you bit back a coy smile.

“Because it’s too much,” he exhaled, his body still trembling from the aftershocks and even though you could feel him softening a little inside you, his cock still twitched ever so faintly. “I’m too sensitive right now.”

George slowly pulled out and you cautiously rolled over so you were on your back, sprawled out on your bed, and propped up on your elbows with your legs spread lazily. Beneath you, your fitted sheet now had an impressive wet splotch on it and George grasped your ankles in one hand to guide your legs towards your chest, letting his other press against the soiled fabric.

“I think you actually soaked it through to the mattress,” George chuckled lightly.

“That wasn’t entirely my fault,” you protested playfully, blinking dreamily up at him.

As if interrupting your moment, your body let out a little squeak of air, made almost bubbly from how filled by him you were. Both caught by surprise, you met each other’s gaze and then burst into soft laughter together. George let go of your ankles and, instead, set his hands on the backs of your thighs to keep your legs back, staring down at your sopping pussy and what a mess you were right down to the trimmed hair that was matted with various fluids. Your body forced out another queef.

“God, you’re a fucking goddess,” George exhaled. He dropped a hand down to gently prod at your pussy with the pad of his thumb and almost right away, a thick glob of white dripped out of you and down between your cheeks and onto the ruined sheets below.

You hummed at the feeling, splayed out in front of him and still propped up on your elbows, watching him watch you, and after just a second, George leaned in towards you and you shared a few sloppy kisses. You moved one hand to grasp the back of his neck as you took what you wanted from his lips, your heart racing in your chest and your kisses made a little ungraceful from your shared smiles. After only a few seconds, George broke away from your lips and looked back down between your spread legs, moving his hand to grasp the shaft of his cock and then slide the tip along your slick pussy just as more of his cum leaked out of you. He gathered it back up that way and pressed it back inside you as if not wanting to waste a single drop.

With only the tip inside you, he asked in a voice slightly, “Can you take more?”

“Uh huh,” you nodded, staring up at him with blown wide eyes, your hand still at the back of his neck giving him a little tug to try and get his lips back onto yours.

“Yeah, of course you can,” he chuckled—as if he should have already suspected the answer—just before he pressed his lips to yours and then sunk farther inside you.

With your hand on the back of his neck, you pulled him down after you as you laid flat on your back on the bed, making sure he wouldn’t stop kissing you even as you shifted. He followed after you expertly, resting on his flat hands on either side of you and bent down just enough to continue your sloppy kisses as his hips pushed themselves flush against yours. Despite having been absolutely railed by him only seconds earlier, your body still stretched around him to accommodate his every inch once more, allowing that warm tingling pressure to spread between your legs and over your hips and deep inside you. Your fingers tangled in the roots of his hair and you groaned into his mouth at the feeling.

“Mmm, stretchin’ me out so good.” you mumbled against his lips.

“You’re so tight and perfect for me, my love,” he murmured, breaking your kiss just far enough to stare down into your eyes, his expression dark with desire, “You were made just for me, weren’t you?”

“Yeah…” you breathed in reply.

You didn’t put up an argument as he guided your legs up so your calves were resting on his shoulders as he knelt before you and he slowly started to move in languid, delicious motions, back and forth, thrusting into you in a dizzying rhythm. Your eyes fluttered as you stared up at him, your bottom lip trapped between your teeth and your hands absentmindedly grasping onto the fitted sheet beneath you. All you could think about as you stared up at him like that, his handsome face bathed in a light flush that carried down his chest and his caramel skin glistening in a thin sheen of sweat, was watching him on the top step of the podium that weekend, fresh out of the car, the newest World Champion. Your champion. Fuck.

The reminder had you writhing, trying to push your hips up to encourage him on, fisting the fitted sheet. George hushed you as he set one large hand on your lower abdomen, keeping you down on the bed as he continued to roll his hips into yours nice and deep. He pressed his palm down nice and firmly, adding a bit of a squeeze to where he was nestled inside you and undoubtedly feeling every thrust of his cock. That very same spot where he rested his hand was where you had carried your son and where, you would hope, you would have the privilege to carry another little blessing. Almost out of instinct, you dropped a hand down to rest over his on your abdomen.

“Want to make a baby in you…right here—” he whispered lowly as he stared down into your eyes, hand still pressing firmly in place.

“Please,” you withered, feeling his words ignite your every nerve ending through your body.

“Ugh, fuck, darling,” George grunted sweetly, “when you clench like that it makes me wanna fuck you deeper.”

“Do it. Do it, please—” you begged pitchily and moved your hand from his to grab his wrist, almost willing to do anything for him to give you more.

George leaned farther down over top of you so his hands were on either side of your head and your legs were trapped over his shoulders, nearly having you bent in half. He could get incredibly deep that way, giving you every fucking inch, and almost right away he was picking up the pace at the same time. You shrieked at the change, fingers pressing into his biceps.

“There you go,” he purred, wrapping one hand around your throat in a firm squeeze, just how you liked it, “that’s it.”

You were rendered speechless for a moment, gaping up at him as he pounded into you harder and held you down by his hand around your throat. The bed was creaking faintly underneath you again and, as if he liked it loud, George shifted his position just a little so that every purposeful thrust also had the headboard starting to hit the wall. You cried out to the ceiling, head arching back against the mattress, hands splaying over the sheets to fist them in your white-knuckled grip.

“You’re gonna look so fucking gorgeous pregnant…carrying our baby…” he panted thickly, “My perfect wife making me a whole little brood.”

“Yeah, please, come in me,” you stumbled out, trying to force your eyes to stay open and locked on his.

“You want more, hm?” he taunted, “Already came so much that it’s leaking out of you and you want to be filled more? It’s gonna be dipping out of you for days.”

You could feel your eyes rolling shut at his words and his gorgeous threat and how they sounded behind the very obvious squelch of his cock plowing into your sloppy cunt over and over and over. He could move so easily with how soaked you were, streaking his cum over your thighs and ass and his pelvis and the length of his dick, making everything so ridiculously messy. All you could think about was how good it felt as he had you lingering on that precipice between pain and pleasure again, his hand tight around your throat and his thick cock so deep inside you that it was nearly kissing your cervix with every thrust.

With one hand still fisting the sheets, your other habitually dropped between your bodies to rub furiously at your clit, fingers slipping over it easily with how soaked everything was. You choked over your breath at the startling sensations, sobbing out a broken, “Fuck! I’m gonna come!”

“Yeah, baby?” George taunted, his voice thick with need, “You gonna come on my cock? Gonna make a mess all over me?”

All you could reply with was a pitchy and uncontrollable chant of, “fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck!”, in time with the creak of the bed and the dizzying clap of wet skin on skin.

George groaned, his body responding to every sound you made, the chorus of sights and sounds and smells taking him over as it did you. This voice was tight as he kept his hand firmly around your throat, squeezing the sides just under your jaw, encouraging you with a low, “That’s it, baby. Come for me.”

Your legs were nearly vibrating over his shoulders as your impending orgasm built and built inside you, filling your veins with intense warmth and coiling tightly in the pit of your stomach. You knew you were making noise—and a lot of it—but details were so hazy as the intensity overtook you and left you almost feeling like you were in some dream-like experience. The moment you came around him, your muscles clenching up tight around him, his name fell from your lips with a wet sob and you writhed against the bed, struggling under the way he held you down by your throat.

“Fuck! Good girl!” George praised loudly, still thrusting insistently into you even as you tensed right up around him.

“Oh my God!” you gasped out of it, hands flying to grab onto any part of him you could, “Yes! Shit!”

George moved with ease as he grabbed your arms and immediately pinned your wrists down to the mattress on either side of your head without missing a beat. He rammed into you harder, rougher, faster, taking you as he wanted until your oversensitive body was nearly vibrating and the room was a myriad of lewd sounds and surely filling the whole house. You were so fucking soaked by then that it was almost impressive how loud his skin clapped against yours with every thrust, just adding to the intensity of the moment.

“Please, George, please!” you shrieked, pleasured tears burning your eyes even as they screwed shut with overwhelm, “Come inside me! Put a baby in me! Fuck, I need it so bad, darling, please. Please…please, I wanna make you a daddy again.”

“Yeah, you will, my sweet girl,” George groaned through his sloppy thrusts, “Gonna be such a good little wife…and carry another perfect little angel for me, aren't you?”

“Yeah, gimme it, please!” you let the words tumble from your lips without thought, “Every drop…inside me…please…please…”

You could already feel him throbbing inside you despite the intensity with which he fucked you, taking you right into the mattress like he owned you, your legs still secure over his shoulders. The two of you were for sure quite the erotic sight; bodies entangled in such an intense position as he held you down and prepared to come inside you for the second consecutive time, your panted breaths mingling and pleasured sounds harmonizing with the slam of the headboard against the wall.

“Gonna come so fucking deep inside your perfect little cunt…” George said through his teeth, his voice thick with pleasure, “right at your cervix…make sure it takes…make sure you’re properly knocked up…”

You didn’t even have a chance to voice any more begging before his face was screwing up in over-sensitive pleasure and he gave you one particularly deep thrust. At the feeling of the first spurt, your hands tore from his and flew down to grab at his ass and his waist, nails digging into his flesh and holding him inside you as deep as he could go as you stared up into his eyes and watched the orgasm tear through his expression. You withered at the sight and the feel of it, not to mention the way your cunt fluttered around him at the feeling of him throbbing inside you as if to pull everything out of him.

“Fuck, George…” you breathed dreamily.

“Mmph…” he moaned tightly, grinding his hips against yours a little more before easing down onto forearms on either side of your head and your legs dropped from his shoulders, “Jesus Christ…”

Your hands slid up his sides and took his face in your palms to guide his lips to yours, both of you breathless and spent and barely able to kiss with how you heaved for air. Your husband’s pretty eyes could hardly stay open as he tried to catch his bearings and he settled right down on top of you and tucked his face in the crook of your neck, his body trembling a little from the remanence of the aftershocks. He was utterly spent and boneless, and almost looked like he didn’t want to or more rather couldn’t move ever again.

You laughed ever so softly at his sudden exhaustion after all that excitement and you ran your hands up and down his toned back, sharing in his moment to just breathe. His weight on top of you was comforting and familiar and helped to calm you down, your eyes falling shut to bask in the moment as you stayed entangled as one for a little longer.

“I love you,” you breathed as your finger trailed down the vertebrae of his spine.

“Mm, I love you,” George echoed, planting a kiss to the apex of your neck and your shoulder. He then took a deep, shaky breath and lifted his head up to meet your gaze, “That was…something.”

You giggled softly and rubbed his broad shoulders, “I think we’re done.”

He chuckled breathily and rested his forehead against yours, “Yeah, we’re definitely done. I don't think I can move ever again.”

“You put in work all weekend…and still managed to perform the grand finale tonight,” you played along.

George lifted his head back to look you in the eye again with a playful, “I can’t tell if I’m offended that you think this outshone my championship or if I’m in agreement.”

The two of you shared breathy laughter and a few tender kisses before he was slowly pulling out of you and laying beside you on the bed. Despite the damp fitted sheet beneath you, neither of you minded in that moment, too focused on each other and coming down from those intense blissful highs you shared. George’s arm wrapped around you as you snuggled into his side, tangled up against the pillows that were half falling off the bed, nothing but the laboured sound of your breathing filling the once noisy room.

George’s cheek rested against your head as you laid on his chest, feeling the rapid thudding of his heartbeat under your palm and the smoothness of his toned pecs. He turned his face towards yours to leave a kiss to your forehead and then he let out a tired exhale, draping his free arm above his head. You looked up at him from your spot, taking a second to admire the angles of his jaw and the messiness of his hair and the flush that still lingered down his neck and over his collarbones.

“I’m so proud of you.”

You hadn’t meant to say it, at least not out loud, but it was the truth. George glanced at you in return, a calm smile on his face, and his hand gave your shoulder a squeeze, his lips pressing to your temple.

“Thank you, my love,” he breathed, “Couldn’t have done it without you though.”

“Don’t say that,” you tutted, “You’ve been working for this far longer than you’ve known me.”

“And yet it didn’t happen until I knew you…until you were my wife…the mother of my child…”

You smiled as you stared back into his eyes, correcting him with a soft, “Children.”

George shared in your smile, his expression melting, “Yes, hopefully.”

You both leaned in for a kiss or two or three until you were interrupted by a squeak of air being pushed from your cunt. George broke away from your lips with a breathy chuckle and he dropped his hand down your body to help himself between your thighs, fingertips gliding over your pussy to collect the creamy globs of cum that had leaked out of you and he pushed it back in with two fingers.

“I tried to clench,” you laughed lightly.

“You did great,” George smiled against your temple.

He left another kiss there before he was rolling away to grab a tissue from the box on the bedside table to come back to your side and start to clean you up. Propped up on his arm beside you, he wiped up the mess between your legs with the tissue and you took that moment to just stare at him some more and how he took care of you. Oh, you were so in love with him.

“Wanna push any more out?” he asked.

“It’s okay,” you said, “I’ll just go to the bathroom.”

“Okay.”

George gave you one more wipe and folded the soiled tissue in a clean one as you cautiously moved to sit up. More little queefs slipped out as you moved positions and started to stand up and with a proud fucking smirk, he reached to take your arm to make sure you were stable on your feet. Once you were steady on your still-slightly-trembling legs, you took the tissue from him to take to the bathroom with you to dispose of.

You took your time in the ensuite to use the toilet and clean yourself up at the sink with a damp cloth, having to hold yourself steady on the side of the vanity. When you emerged back into the bedroom, George was remaking the bed with fresh sheets, the soiled ones in a heap by the door in desperate need to be washed. He was in a fresh pair of boxers but otherwise naked, hair still sticking up in ridiculous directions and his body looking absolutely gorgeous in the fading light of the late afternoon. There was a clean pair of underwear and a pyjama set folded for you on the dresser.

“You take such good care of me,” you gushed sweetly as you started to pull on the clothes to keep yourself from catching a chill.

George glanced over at you as he pulled the duvet back on the bed, “Of course, it’s the least I can do for my wonderful wife.”

Once the bed was made, you climbed into your side despite it being barely evening, and you collapsed back against the pillows and headboard with a content sigh.

“Feeling alright?” George asked as he finished fluffing his pillows.

You lolled your head to the side to look at him with an adoring smile, “Yeah. Just fucking tired out.”

“Me too, not to mention that horribly long flight we had,” he set a knee on the mattress to lean towards you and gave your lips a brief kiss as his hand gave your abdomen a little caress over the duvet around your hips. The implication of his action was not lost on you. He stood up again, “Should we order something special for dinner and then get some sleep, you reckon? We’ll have to be up in good time tomorrow to pick up the little guy.”

“That sounds great, love,” you replied softly, and then, before he could ask what you wanted for dinner, you said, “Whatever my World Champion wants to eat sounds good to me.”

Mid-December

The season ended around three weeks later, allowing Formula 1’s newest World Champion to travel home to you for winter break. As much as you enjoyed seeing George race during the year, watching him doing what he loved, there was something about winter break that made your unconventional relationship feel comfortingly normal.

You and your son picked him up from the airport, the toddler donning a ‘Welcome Home’ balloon tied loosely around his wrist, and it went flying in all directions as he ran across the linoleum floor of the ‘Arrivals’ gate once George emerged from within. Beaming, George dropped his backpack and crouched down to welcome his son into his arms and as soon as the little boy was in his grasp, he stood up and lifted up high into the air to send the toddler giggling. Then, snuggling him close to his chest, George peppered his chubby cheeks in kisses.

The toddler pointed to the balloon floating above them, “B’oon, Daddy,”

“Yes, I see the balloon!” George said with a smile, “Is that for me?”

The little boy nodded with a grin, earning him another proud kiss from his father and a pet of his hair. You joined the little reunion and received a kiss of your own from George and you shared a whispered greeting between smiles.

The drive home was calm through the English countryside and your son chatted away happily from his carseat in the back of George’s Mercedes, little sticky fingers pressing against the window and light-up sneakers kicking against the seat in front of him. But the two of you in the front seat were unbothered by your son’s restlessness; with George’s hand on your thigh as he drove your little family safely home. It felt like peace had been restored once George was home and knowing he was all yours for a few weeks made it even better. Despite this, you fiddled with his hand on your lap, absentmindedly spinning his wedding ring around his finger.

He glanced over at you, “You okay, love?”

You looked at him in return with a small smile, “Yeah. I’m fine.”

In reality, in the five days that George had been away, you had started feeling a little unlike yourself; mainly incredibly fatigued to the point that you actually had started napping when your son napped and going to bed at his bedtime too. You knew the last time you had experienced such intense fatigue was when you were pregnant with him and that reminder had your mind swirling. It had only been three weeks of actively trying to conceive and you had partially convinced yourself that it wasn’t going to be as easy as it had been with your son; perhaps that was just beginner’s luck. But, here you were, nearly falling asleep in the passenger seat of George’s car at barely noon.

Once home, it was about time for your son’s nap but he was far too zazzed to even think about sleeping. George ended up carrying him up and down the second floor hallway, rubbing his back, letting him talk himself to sleep in the long-awaited comfort of his father’s arms. It always seemed to do the trick. The toddler was then tucked into bed and George quietly closed his bedroom door behind him.

George had assumed you would be bringing his suitcase upstairs while he took care of the kid but when he stepped into your shared bedroom, there was no sign of you or the suitcase. It wasn’t until he walked back downstairs that he found you, sitting on the bottom step, draped over the top of his suitcase, and fast asleep. With a fond smile, George descended the rest of the staircase and joined you on the bottom step, gently moving you to lean against him instead. You stirred a little.

“Alright there, sleeping beauty?” he teased against your temple.

You lifted your head up to flutter your eyes open to meet his gaze, “M’okay.”

“Do you want to go for a nap too?” he tucked some of your hair behind your ear.

You spoke an unrelated reply in a voice barely over a breath, “I took a pregnancy test on Thursday.”

George’s eyebrows raised and you could feel his arm around you tighten, “And?”

“Couldn’t tell what it was,” you confessed, “It’s upstairs…you can look at it…thought I’d wait a few more days and try again and then maybe you could be with me.”

“Yeah, of course,” George smiled, his voice so light and warm, and although he was trying to be caring, you could hear the hint of impatience in his words, “Are you up to that right now?”

“Based on how fucking exhausted I’ve been feeling and how tender my boobs are, I’m, like, 99% sure I know the answer but…I want to know for sure.” you said definitively.

So you and George ended up in your ensuite bathroom, you on the toilet with a fresh pregnancy test between your legs and him at the vanity squinting at the one you took four days earlier. If you really looked, you could see a faint second line but you also had started to tell yourself that maybe you were just imagining what you wanted to see.

“I dunno, I definitely think there are two lines, love,” George stated, turning the pregnancy test into the light a little more.

“Really?” you replied before holding out the newest one to him to take.

He turned to take it from you and he capped it and set it on the counter while you finished up on the toilet and flushed. You washed your hands beside him at the vanity, watching how he set a three minute timer on his phone and then went back to staring at the old test.

“Yeah, seems so,” he set it down on the counter alongside the new one as you began your three-minute wait for the results.

“I was just thinking that it feels a little crazy to get pregnant so quickly,” you explained, snaking your arms around his middle and he pulled you into him, “Like, it was fast with our first but…having that happen again? Doesn’t it take most people a few months of trying?”

George shrugged, “Maybe we’re just extra fertile.”

You snorted lightly.

“And we’ve been trying pretty consistently,” he reminded you, keeping your gaze through the mirror, “After Brazil and then almost every second day since…”

“Maybe you just have speedy sperm too,” you played along.

George dropped his head back with a small groaning laugh, his arm around you instinctively pulling you closer. You rested your head against his and stared at your reflection in the mirror, how the two of you looked together, how the warmth of his body felt against yours. He was familiar, he was home.

Between your exhaustion and George’s tiredness after his flight, neither of you spoke much as you waited there in the bathroom for the timer to go off. You appreciated the comfort of each other’s presence in the face of this slightly nerve-wracking moment. Of course you hoped for a positive but you knew that if it were negative, you had only just started trying anyway. There was always going to be time.

When George’s phone alarm went off, he shut it off and then gave you a squeeze, “Ready?”

“Think so,” you smiled at him through the mirror.

“You’re trembling,” he chuckled, pressing a kiss to your cheek.

“I’m nervous,” you giggled softly and reached with a shaky hand to pick up the new test.

It was still face down and you lingered there for a moment. George glanced at you as if wanting to tell you to hurry up but he didn’t push you, letting you take a breath before, finally, turning it over in your hand. You both leaned in to see the result.

Compared to the one taken four days earlier, this second line was unmistakable, staring back at you in a fierce shade of dark pink.

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andcars · 5 hours ago

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𝗕𝗢𝗡 𝗔𝗣𝗣𝗘𝗧𝗜𝗧ㅤㅤchocolat

premise. you've had a month or so to be george's personal chef. it's fun, honestly. most jobs like these don't really require you to cook in their houses, but whenever his hotel room includes a kitchen, you're invited. the australian grand prix is here and he's very willing to share his room with you, no matter what state you're in

tags #ㅤpining george russell, tooth rotting fluff, sick fic, australian grand prix 2025, domestic behaviour, accidental confessions

ㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤFEEL FREE TO INBOX ME FOR THOUGHTS !

| MASTERLIST⠀REQUEST ME⠀TAGLIST⠀PATREON GUIDE⠀AO3

yndishes

entering australia very sweetly

liked by papachu, noirbff, georgenotgeorge and 8,332 others View all comments

muffledengine how much to see u bake for me <//3

georgenotgeorge Slots all taken!

therusserer who the HELL is georgenotgeorge LMAO

kitchenspots New recipe coming in?

yndishes nuh uh. someone helped me with this one

papachu 👀

georgenotgeorge Looking great!

noirbff ijbol

georgenotgeorge ?

yndishes she just burst out laughing

georgenotgeorge How did you know?

noirbff IJBOL

noirbff shared @ f1 's story ㅤso... i see

yndishes ㅤomfg i'm not dating him ㅤi'm making FOOD for him. which is my JOB

noirbff ㅤbe fucking fr ㅤu don't need to be doing allat.... u love him just as much as he does with u

yndishes ㅤi'm going to eat u

noirbff ㅤis that what he says to u too

yndishes ㅤOMFGGGG

yndishes

it was sunny just a few days ago

liked by papachu, kitchenspots, noirbff, f1, georgenotgeorge and 13,257 others View all comments

papayanotorange is this a clue to what team u support

yndishes insert mewing gif

papachu YESSS QUEEN WORK IT ─── liked by yndishes

noirbff i see you... i see you....

yndishes and i'm ignoring u! xoxo

noirbff JUST ADMIT TO IT ALREADY

yndishes LITERALLY NOTHING TO SAY SHUT UP

georgenotgeorge Is the colour really necessary?

yndishes it's just orange calm down

georgenotgeorge Hmm...

Yn | You are now private messaging @ yndishes 25,231 followers · 621 posts

georgenotgeorge ㅤHey

yndishes ㅤstop texting me ur working

georgenotgeorge ㅤNope! I'm taking a break for now. They don't need me

yndishes ㅤuh huh... ㅤgood luck on the race btw ㅤthe track is wet as shit

georgenotgeorge ㅤShit. Are you okay? You must be soaking wet out there

yndishes ㅤim okayyy dw abt it. i brought a raincoat

georgenotgeorge ㅤStill. I could get someone to get you? You should've let me get you a garage pass!

yndishes ㅤi told u i'll be fine ㅤjust focus on trynna race ㅤi believe in u

georgenotgeorge ㅤWhen we get back to the hotel, I'll cook you something

georgerussell63 ✔

P3 🏆 Kicking off ‘25 with a podium finish feels good. Tricky conditions today, well done team and congratulations to Kimi on an amazing recovery 👏 Wishing to all those who stayed in the rain to not get sick

liked by f1, yndishes and 13,257 others View all comments

therusserer LET'S GOOOO

muffledengine P3 BABY!!

yndishes congra ACHOO tulations ACHOOOO

noirbff obvious much

yndishes i'm roleplaying

dianadana NO CATERER GIRL ATTENDED AND GOT SICK??

Yn | You are now private messaging @ yndishes 25,231 followers · 621 posts

noirbff ㅤSo

yndishes ㅤimage.png

noirbff ㅤyeah yeah get well soon or wtv ㅤbut also u should rlly ask him out already

yndishes ㅤsighs... ㅤbold of you he hasn't accidentally done it already

noirbff ㅤWHAT THE FUCK ㅤFUCK YOU MEAN ACCIDENTAL

yndishes ㅤhe thought i was passed out and told me he loved me and kissed me ㅤSo um...

noirbff ㅤFUCK DID I SAY HUH ㅤFUCK DID I SAYYY

yndishes ㅤyeah yeah wtv my head hurts ㅤi'm gonna sleep some more and wake up to george russell

noirbff ㅤSLEEP WELL BESTIEE

@Delululeclerc @coconut-dreamz @hiireadstuff @rtorresblog @Jamie2305 @yourmommyagone22 @nichmeddar @vannylen2144

FOOTNOTE ────── an update to the bon appetit series! we finally got george half confessing. good for him. and WOOO P3. it was funny how he was just there behind all that drama in the front row

#🔖 . GR63 #: 🔗 social media #📽️ 'bon appetit'#george russell #george russell imagine #george russell x reader #george russell x you #george russell fanfic #george russell fic #f1 imagine #f1 x you #f1 x reader #f1 fic #f1 fanfic #formula 1 imagine #formula 1 scenarios #formula one imagine

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camille-aurelie-deveraux · 20 hours ago

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Masterlist for Formula 1 🏎🏁🚦

Charles Leclerc:

○ The Spotlight and Us

Lewis Hamilton:

○ The Spotlight and Us

Max Verstappen:

○

Oscar Piastri:

○ Comfort in your arms

Carlos Sainz:

○

George Russell:

○

Ollie Bearman

○

Kimi Antonelli:

○

You can always send me some requests!

Please, have fun reading!

-Cami 🏎

#f1 x reader #formula 1 x reader #charles leclerc x reader #lewis hamilton x reader #max verstappen x reader #george russell x reader #oscar piastri x reader #carlos sainz x reader #ollie bearman x reader #kimi antonelli x reader #f1 x female reader #Cami🏎

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katelovesit · 2 days ago

Text

when i get to heaven please let me bring my man

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doujindungeon · 3 days ago

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part two of two summary: happily married, your career in journalism thriving, and tasked with traveling the world to cover the journey of mercedes's newfound lead driver during this year's f1 season, there's not much else you could ask for. but what do you do when the subject of your article asks for you to be his? rating: nc-17 pairing: f!reader/george content warnings: smut, dub-con, themes of unhealthy /toxic, possessive/yandere behavior, cheating/ntr, blackmail, and age gap (age is undefined but reader is older than george) word count: 2.8k [previous chapter]

“Leave your husband and stay with me.”

Your jaw went slack.

Your brow furrowed in confusion.

Your mind was certain that you misheard George.

“...What?”

Continuing to hold up your SD card, he took a step closer towards you, his voice unwavering, his blue eyes steely with resolve.

“Be with me.”

You drew back, your nerves spiking beneath your skin with unease.

“George, what are you sayi–”

Your question was cut short by the sharp lash of his tongue.

“Love me.”

Eyes wide, breath still.

You couldn’t believe what he was saying. Absolute madness was being spilled from his lips but he looked to be absolutely sound and aware of every word he posed your way.

“Are you alright…?”

George’s fingers clamped down further on your SD card, his blue eyes boring into yours as he firmly asserted, “I’ll break this right now.”

This was the most serious and intense you had ever seen or heard him.

Even when he was clawing his way to first place against his rivals at breakneck speeds, when he was snarling in conflict with the team engineers, he was never this biting.

Your heart went from racing to sprinting.

“You wouldn’t–”

Shaking his head vehemently, he continued on, his voice tight, his words laced with venom, “If it means you have to spend another season with me, I’ll break every bloody fucking chip–I’ll even shatter your camera if I have to–”

Your left hand was moving before your mind could even think to word a response.

There was a sting in your palm while a hot red imprint was now etched on George’s cheek.

“What has gotten into you?!”

Your question was launched from your lips in your budding hysteria.

Yet he didn’t look too fazed by your righteous anger. Rather, he looked pleased.

As quickly you moved to strike him, his otherworldly reflexes had him react even faster to seize your wrist before you could fully retract your hand back in order to bring it right up to his lips.

The warmth of his mouth enveloped your ring finger, his slick tongue dragging along your skin. His eyes never breaking away from yours, his teeth proceeded to catch around the gold of your wedding band before he eased it right off.

When his gaze broke contact, it was only so he could proceed with harshly spitting out your ring to the side, letting out a scoff while he slipped your SD card into his pocket.

“I can buy you a better one.”

One of your most precious possessions, now discarded to the floor like worthless trash.

You were aghast, your mind desperately hunting for answers, for clarification, for peace amidst the growing chaos he was dragging you further and further into. “I don’t understand. Why? Of all people, why me?! You could literally have anyone in the world, George! A model, a celebrity, someone your age, I–”

Before another word could be uttered, suddenly your face was in his hands as he gazed at you with sincere desperation.

“Does something like love really need logic? The way you look at me alone–” His voice trembled as his eyelids shut closed for a moment in pleasure. “I can have the entire world, kings, queens, world leaders watch me race and I wouldn’t give a fuck if you’re not in the stands.”

His calloused thumbs ran over your cheeks as his eyelids fluttered open, darkened desire clouding the brilliance of his ocean blue irises as he longingly confessed, “Your eyes, your camera lens–when it’s you, I want to be the only person in the center.”

And it was here that George finally seized the opportunity to capture your lips for a kiss.

Instinctively, you tried to step away from him with a yelp, but the firm and possessive grip he was cradling your head with kept you in place.

“My god how long I’ve waited for this.”

The groan of utter pleasure he let out was sloppily mangled with the earnest prods of his tongue into your mouth, eager to glide and drag it along yours while greedily savoring the taste and feel of your lips.

When the need for air finally had him break away from you, his voice fell into a hiss as he remarked, “Do you know how many times I’ve been kept up at night thinking about the way you say my name, wondering what it would be like to hear you moan and scream it out?”

You felt hollow as you caught your breath.

All this time.

Across the world.

Night after night, while you were usually up at late hours reviewing your notes on your daily observations of George and working on your draft for the very article meant to praise and exalt his journey, he was rooms away, fantasizing about, yearning for, and lusting after you.

Letting out a sigh, he finally released your face to instead reach for your hands and placed them right over his cheeks, nuzzling against the both of them as he sighed, “The way you hold your camera with such care–all I wanted was to have these very hands caress my hair after a loss…” While his voice trailed off, he gazed at you with a wicked gleam in his eye and a lecherous grin on his lips, “Or even better, have them comfort me by stroking my cock.”

While instinct would have had you slap him once again for being so crass, you were simply just too stupefied to react in any other way but gaze at him wordlessly at him in sheer shock. The very man whose story you were entrusted to document and showcase was thinking of you in such a perverse way?

George’s hands released yours as he moved to pull you in a tight embrace, his face burying against your neck while lips sought to kiss along your flesh as he purred, “It was so adorable too when you didn’t think too much about when I started requesting to only have you in the room for my ice baths. It made me feel like you were happy for the privacy and craved it too–I certainly was.”

You shuddered in his arms while you felt the pressure of his palms press against your waist for a tender squeeze, just before his touch began to explore over the rest of your body. Having such big, sturdy hands roam over your skin was like nothing you ever experienced with your husband’s, whose loving touch couldn’t compare to George’s ravenous approach that felt more akin to a subjugation of your very being.

In all your years of journaling, of existing, never had you felt so unnerved, so small.

“The times I’ve had the chance to peek through your notes, I’ve just been waiting for the day I’d get to see you jot down that you were starting to fall for me,” he hummed, his words tinged with a mix of affection and pride, “but I guess I’ll just have to help you realize this myself.”

A gasp escaped you as you felt both of his hands reach for and grope your ass. With all the notable people you’ve interviewed and covered across your career, you thought you had a good eye for observing and studying your subjects, from what they outwardly tell you to the subtle mannerisms that speak of their inner soul.

And yet, how was it all this time that you never caught on to this fascination, this obsession, this desire that George held for you?

It was nothing else but complete and utter lunacy that the very man you were sent to document could not only fall for you, but be willing to devastate your marriage and risk his career, his reputation, everything over you.

While you mulled over this, a trail of kisses was left from your neck all the way back to the corner of your lips. Though his mouth was eager to smother yours once again, there was venom on his tongue as he remarked, “Your husband’s a fool to let an angel like you flutter around the world so freely.” By contrast, his eyes soon became tender as he sweetly concluded with, “You’re heaven in itself, love. I would be damned to ever let my wife out of my sight.”

His hands suddenly snatched hold of your hips before he locked them right against his.

“Guess I’ll have to thank him for hand delivering you to me.”

While he started to chuckle, you definitely didn’t find his remark amusing in the slightest. Yet you couldn’t think too much of his words as he pressed further into you, making sure you feel the stiff, prominent bulge of his erection through his pants.

You immediately squirmed in his grasp.

Were matters truly going to lead to that?

Yet rather than remain in stunned silence any longer, you channeled your feelings turning into defensive fury as you snapped, “Don’t talk badly about him! He has nothing to do with this!”

One of George’s hands left your hip.

His voice calm and cool, he asked, “Would you rather that I call him directly then?”

Immediately extinguished.

You froze in horror as you watched George smile smugly as he held up your phone after retrieving it from your pocket with ease.

Before you could lunge for it, he held it high above your head–an easy feat for someone at his height. Keeping an arm around your waist, he caged you close to him as his thumb dragged along your phone’s lock screen after switching it on.

“I’ve watched you open your phone so many times that I could just unlock it with my eyes closed.”

His voice rich with pride, he made a point to tap hard at your phone’s screen to ensure each press reached your ears.

“I’d just have to go to the recent calls and then–”

The front of his shirt was quickly seized by your shaking hands.

“George.”

There was no choice, no winning against someone as fiercely competitive as the man standing before you.

“Yes, love?”

The look on his face, the sound of his voice–so affectionate and sweet.

Yet you just stared straight ahead, your vision watching how your hands continued to grip at his shirt, how your wedding band remained missing from your ring finger.

Your words hushed, mumbled and shamed, you simply remarked,

“...do what you want with me. Just don’t call him.”

Once again, your cheek was cupped by his hand.

Once again, his lips were on yours.

But now, however, as he chimed out “With pleasure, darling,” you were soon hoisted up into his arms as he would a bride and quickly hauled off to the bedroom.

From the moment you were laid out onto the bed, you resolved to yourself that while you would permit him to do as he pleased, you would not indulge in what was to come.

For the integrity of your career, for your pride as a woman, for the sanctity of your marriage, you could not yield and enjoy the touch of George’s hands.

Yet the moment he had the both of you fully stripped down and naked, the saint in you was quickly sent to the stakes in face of his insatiable conquest.

The very hands that took to the wheel and clutched victory after victory throughout the past year and back were greedily squeezing and fondling your breasts, the flat of his palms caressing over the hardened peaks of your nipples.

The same lips that charmed fans and the press alike with answers both profoundly dignified and goofily sweet were planted right in-between your thighs, suckling around your clit while his tongue lapped along the sopping slickness of your cunt with the ferocity of a starved beast.

Those damn blue eyes that always looked so fierce and focused during a race were now trained on your face, wanting nothing more than to take in your reaction to every single one of his actions.

His hands, his lips, his eyes–for the past year, you beheld and documented every facet of him through the lens of your camera.

But now, as you lay beneath him, gasping and panting, skin flushed and hot, you were reeling from having to bear witness to this side of him that you never would have imagined to have existed.

Yet here he was, joyfully looming above you, encasing you beneath his shadow as one hand held your jaw while the other was currently dragging the blunt, wet tip of his thick hard cock against the drooling entrance of your core. His voice low and hushed his reverence, he purred,

“You’ve had so many magnificent experiences throughout life, so much wisdom you’ve imparted to me. I’ve cherished every story you’ve told me, every word you’ve ever uttered to me.”

Your back arched, your eyes growing wide as you felt him prod into you further.

His lips cracked into an arrogant grin as he declared, “But now it’s my turn, darling.”

Without a moment of hesitation, he sheathed his cock into you in one full thrust.

Basking in the breathless cry you let out, the way your body arched in immediate reaction, the molten velvety heat of your cunt enveloping his dick, he tightened the hold he had on your jaw as he leaned down, his lips brushing over yours while he started to work up the tempo of his thrusts. Groans and grunts of delighted mixed in, he then proclaimed, “I’m going to teach you what true devotion, true pleasure feels like–nothing that your husband could ever give you.”

And with the possession of your lips by his once again, you were subjected to his mercilessness.

Your ears took in the obscenely wet noisiness of his hips pounding down against yours along with the sound of his delighted moans.

Along with that of your own.

Your eyes tried to focus on anything but the sight of the man who dared to tarnish the purity of your marriage, yet that proved to be difficult with him right on top of you.

They were squeezed shut in euphoria regardless.

Your hands gripped at the bedsheets while you continued to bear the brunt of his relentless thrusts, refusing to touch him in any way.

Until you compromised by clawing at his shoulders when the tip of his dick started slamming against one particular spot that had you seeing stars over and over.

Your mind attempted to find solace by thinking about your husband, how he would never stoop to such vile, selfish lows to get what he wanted.

A vain effort since all of your senses were just too overwhelmed with a carnal pleasure you had never experienced until now.

Your thighs remained parted and wide to accommodate the vast, chiseled expanse of his statuesque body as he maintained his position above you.

Only for your legs to hug around his waist as you squealed with the harsh crash of your orgasm while the hot spill of his cum flooded your core full.

You found yourself fully sprawled across the bed, your chest heaving while you steadied your breath, your mind lost and swept up in an utter daze.

It only took sight and sound of a camera flash going off to drag you back to reality.

Your eyes shifted over to see George, phone in hand and triumphant smile on his lips.

“My camera work is nowhere near your level, but your beauty makes up for it regardless, darling,” he sighed with utter elation. “I’ve waited so long for this moment–I just have to take some photos.”

George declared this dreamily as though referring to timeless mementos.

But in your ear, all you heard was blackmail.

Especially as you watched him point his phone right over your cunt, with his cum continuing to seep out and pooling down on the bed.

You didn’t say anything, even as you found yourself drawn into his arms once again moments later.

While his lips found their way to yours for more kisses, his blue eyes glinted mischievously as he asked, “I look forward to taking more photos of you in Monaco, darling–especially since I’ll have you all to myself for the entire break, is that right?”

A short distance away from the bed was your wedding band, still in the same place on the floor from when George spat it out earlier. Meanwhile, your husband was countries away, blissfully unaware of what you were up to after catching up with you over the phone.

Your career, your marriage, everything was right within George’s grasp.

At last, you spoke, your voice as quiet as ever.

“That’s right, George…”

You were trapped.

And as he gazed at you lovingly with those hauntingly blue eyes, a dementedly content smile on his gorgeous features, all while he continued to keep you caged against his long, lumbering and broad physique, you could only shudder despairingly to yourself at the realization that there was an ugliness to George Russell that no one else would get to see except for you and you alone.

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

NTRussell in p1 let's go !!! 🙆‍♀️🙆‍♀️

thank you all for reading this doujin-inspired indulgence and thank you charlotte xcx for the fitting title :~)

while this caps it off for my current round of og standalone fic ideas for f1, i do have plans for some fun themed-works coming up that will definitely require reader participation so definitely hope you all come by to join the saucy chaos owo

thanks again everyone !!!

#george russell x reader #george russell x you #george russell smut #gr63 x reader #gr63 x you #gr63 smut #f1 x reader #f1 x you #f1 smut #formula one x reader #formula one x you #formula one smut #reader insert

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babsf1world · 3 days ago

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TEXTING F1 DRIVERS!

Compliment

I miss you, I’m sorry

Not how it seems

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maxivstappen · 4 months ago

Text

𝐖𝐇𝐄𝐍 𝐅𝟏 𝐃𝐑𝐈𝐕𝐄𝐑𝐒 𝐒𝐓𝐄𝐀𝐋 𝐘𝐎𝐔𝐑 𝐏𝐀𝐍𝐓𝐈𝐄𝐒

featuring ; max verstappen , lando norris , oscar piastri , charles leclerc , carlos sainz , lewis hamilton , george russel , daniel ricciardo , franco colapinto

🎙️:: i know i said i want to write more angst but after dylhitm i felt like finishing this. this might be nastier than the fwb one so beware and have fun! (ALL of these are rushed and i know that carlos didn’t exactly steal them but who cares)

SUGGESTIVE !! [can’t link my mlists so pls look at my navi!]

🎙️:: reblogs are heavily appreciated as always, thanks for reading !

taglist :: @norrisdriver @simonsrileyhusband <3

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pomegranatesarchive · 7 months ago

Note

A female f1 driver who was featured in the barbie movie as the f1 driver. You could write about her scene and working with the Margot and Ryan lol, and how the grid reacts to it. Lanpd could be her bf or not if you don't want.

You don't have to absolutely write if it doesn't strike any inspiration and you obviously can write whatever you want you xoxo

barbie girl | redbull!reader

pairing: f1 grid x reader

summary: redbull!reader does a cameo in the barbie movie

part of my ‘redbull!reader’ series

liked by alex_albon, landonorris, and 816,027 others!

yourusername: this barbie is a f1 driver! 🎀 barbie is out now in theaters near you <33 (or not near you? idk where you lot live)

view comments below!

user1: yn is just hitting all these side quests because what?

user1: happy for her tho!

user2: is this what it’s like to be so rich that you can literally do whatever you want?

user3: YN CAMEO!!!!

user4: WE CHEERED

user5: omw to see barbie now

landonorris: i know where you live

user6: can someone tell me her part in the movie? my parents won’t let me see it 😓

user7: she’s a f1 driver barbie, and she’s gets into a relationship with f1 driver ken (played by glen powell) throughout the movie you could see like snippets of them going from friends to bf and gf!! you could probably find some clips on youtube or something :)

user6: thank you <33

user7: GLEN POWELL????

user8: THE CAPYBARA GUY???

charles_leclerc: i can be your ken 😊

yourusername: no thank you i already have my glen ken!

charles_leclerc: but he can’t drive a REAL f1 car

yourusername: i can teach him

charles_leclerc: FINE

charles_leclerc: BE LIKE THAT THEN

charles_leclerc: I DONT CARE

charles_leclerc: GOSH

glenpowell: i would like to make it very clear that i have no interest in learning how to drive a f1 car!

charles_leclerc: NO ONE CARES GLEN

user9: i love when yn posts because i just know the comments are going to be filled with the drivers acting like they have no decorum

landonorris: i know where you live

alex_albon: movie night?

maxverstappen1: i already watched it

georgerussell63: we know…we all saw the picture of you decked out in pink at the movie theater

user10: LMAO

user11: it makes so much sense that the first time we see max in pink is when he’s supporting yn

lewishamilton: so excited to see it! 🩷

yourusername: love you 💚

charles_leclerc: I LOVE YOU TOO YN

maxverstappen1: i want love

alex_albon: can’t remember the last time you said that to me…sigh…

georgerussell63: love me next?

oscarpiastri: playing favorites i see 🤨

landonorris: i love you too 🥰

user12: bring back shame

user13: their desperation makes me sick

oscarpiastri: i guess ill watch barbie now

yourusername: why are you pretending like you weren’t the first to ask me for spoilers?

oscarpiastri: no clue what you’re talking about???

yourusername: mhm sure osc sure

user14: osc 🥹

landonorris: i know where you live

yourusername: what is wrong with you?

landonorris: i’m outside your door

user15: it’s official, lando is killing yn so he can win more races

. . .

notes: thank you for requesting!! hope you don’t mind i used this for my redbull!reader au :)

5K notes · View notes

ari-ana-bel-la · 3 days ago

Note

Hello queen. You are my favourite writer on tumblr. I'm always so excited when I see that you updated something. Could I please request Carlos daughter being a huge Barcelona football fan instead of Real Madrid. And when the drivers all together watch a game against those two and Real wins, Carlos daughter running to Charles cause her father made her team lose

Thank you so much 💓

Real vs Barca

The paddock buzzed with its usual pre-race energy. Engineers ran last-minute checks, journalists hovered with their microphones at the ready, and fans crowded the stands, hoping for a glimpse of their favorite drivers. But amid all the racing chaos, Carlos had only one thing on his mind today: El Clásico.

It wasn’t just any match—it was Real Madrid vs. Barcelona. A day of rivalry, passion, and, most importantly, a chance for him to rub in Madrid’s superiority once and for all.

But there was one major problem.

His own daughter, Yn, was a Barcelona fan.

Carlos still didn’t understand how it happened. He had done everything right. When Yn was born, he had immediately wrapped her in a Real Madrid onesie, played Madrid anthems in the nursery, and even taught her to clap whenever he said “Hala Madrid.” For a while, it worked. She would happily wear Madrid’s white jersey, cheering along without question.

Then she turned four.

Suddenly, she had opinions. Suddenly, she loved FC Barcelona.

It had started with her favorite color—blue. Then it was the cool Barcelona crest, then the way her little heart decided Gavi was her favorite player. And now, today, in the motorhome filled with drivers who came to watch the game, she stood proudly in a tiny Barcelona jersey with Gavi’s name printed on the back.

Carlos groaned in despair.

“Mi amor, por favor, why are you doing this to me?” he sighed dramatically, kneeling to her level.

Yn giggled, her brown eyes sparkling mischievously. “Barca is the best, Papá!”

“No, mija, Madrid is the best,” Carlos corrected, fixing her jersey like he could erase the colors from existence. “We are Madridistas in this house.”

Yn shook her head firmly. “I am Barca.”

“Dios mío,” Carlos muttered, standing up as Max, Lando, Pierre, and Charles walked into the room, holding bowls of snacks and drinks.

“Are we ready for the drama?” Lando smirked, plopping onto the couch.

“The game or the father-daughter war?” Pierre teased, nodding toward Carlos, who had his arms crossed, glaring at the tiny Barcelona fan.

“The war,” Max answered, throwing a handful of popcorn into his mouth. “Because if Barca wins, Carlos might actually cry.”

Carlos groaned. “She’s four! She’s supposed to listen to me.”

“She’s four,” Charles corrected, leaning against the table with a smug grin. “She does what she wants.”

Yn grinned up at her uncle Charlie and reached her little arms out. “Up!”

Carlos watched in horror as his own daughter abandoned him and climbed into Charles’ arms, snuggling against him.

“Oh, come on!” Carlos threw his hands in the air. “She’s my daughter!”

“She’s also my niece,” Charles teased, poking Yn’s side and making her giggle. “And clearly, she has taste.”

“She does not have taste!” Carlos objected. “She’s four, she doesn’t even know what taste is!”

Yn gasped dramatically. “I do know! And Barca is better.”

Max whistled lowly. “Oof, Carlos, I think she’s got you there.”

Carlos covered his face with his hands. “I cannot believe this is happening.”

As the game started, the room filled with anticipation. Carlos sat on the couch, Yn nestled beside Charles, her little legs swinging off the edge. Every time Barcelona touched the ball, she cheered loudly, clapping her hands.

Carlos groaned. His own daughter was against him.

“She’s happy,” Charles said with a chuckle, rubbing Yn’s back.

“I am not,” Carlos deadpanned.

The game was intense. Real Madrid took the lead, and Carlos cheered loudly, pumping his fists in the air. Yn pouted, crossing her arms. Then Barcelona equalized, and she jumped up, screaming excitedly, throwing her little arms around Charles.

Carlos watched in betrayal.

When Real Madrid scored again, Carlos lifted his arms victoriously.

“¡Vamos! That’s what I’m talking about!” He grinned at Yn. “See, mi amor? Madrid is better.”

Yn stuck out her tongue at him. “Not true!”

The final minutes were nerve-wracking, but when the referee blew the whistle, the score read 2-1 to Real Madrid.

Carlos jumped up, celebrating like he had won a Grand Prix.

Yn, however, looked absolutely devastated. Her little face fell, her lip wobbling, eyes glassy with tears.

“Mi niña, don’t be sad,” Carlos said quickly, kneeling in front of her. “It’s just a game, okay? You’ll win next time.”

Yn sniffled. Then, her little eyebrows furrowed, and she glared at Carlos.

“This is your fault.”

Carlos blinked. “What?”

Yn stomped her tiny foot. “You were too happy! That’s why Barca lost!”

The entire room erupted into laughter.

“No, no, no,” Carlos quickly shook his head, trying to grab her hands, but Yn turned and ran straight into Charles’ arms.

Carlos was left, kneeling on the floor, watching as his daughter buried her little face into Charles’ chest while he rubbed her back comfortingly.

“Carlos,” Lando wheezed through laughter.

Pierre wiped a tear from his eye. “Man, you shouldn't have cheered so much for Real. Look at poor Yn.”

“Not my fault!” Carlos objected, still in shock. “Why am I the bad guy?”

Yn peeked up from Charles’ shoulder and glared at her Papá. “Because you made Barca lose.”

Carlos groaned dramatically. “This is the worst day of my life.”

Max clapped him on the back. “At least Madrid won?”

Carlos sighed, defeated, watching his daughter cling to Charles. He would need a new strategy. Maybe next season, he could convince her to switch teams. Until then… he had lost this battle.

But not the war.

♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♥︎♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡

Authors Note: Hey loves!I hope you enjoyed reading this story. My requests are always open for you.

-🩷🎀

591 notes · View notes

iheartmonaco · 9 months ago

Text

Calling them "good boy"

🔸inc.: Charles Leclerc, Carlos Sainz, Lando Norris, Oscar Piastri, Max Verstappen, Daniel Ricciardo, George Russell, Lewis Hamilton, Sebastian Vettel

🔸Gender Neutral reader

🔸masterlist

5K notes · View notes

harrysfolklore · 2 months ago

Text

you belong with me - gr63

summary: george has been in love with his best friend for 15 years, but she can’t see that she belongs with him

folkie radio: MY FIRST GEORGE FIC!!!! idk why it took me so long to write for him but i hope you like this !! send your feedback <3

MASTERLIST | MY PATREON

liked by georgerussell63, alex_albon and 87,846 others

yourinstagram finally race week! can't believe it's been 10 years of watching this one from the paddock. from sneaking into george's garage during f3 days to now having proper passes (still can't get used to saying "my best friend is an F1 driver" 😅). ready to watch @/georgerussell63 crush it this weekend!

view all comments

username1 MERCEDES QUEEN

username2 you guys are literally soulmates just date already

alex_albon The OG paddock bestie 🙌

└ yourinstagram and you know it

landonorris still waiting for my batch of cookies tbh

└ charles_leclerc Get in line

└ yourinstagram LMAOOO

username3 bestie you spelled wife wrong

username4 10 years of friendship and still going strong

username5 someone convince me they're not secretly married

georgerussell63 Wouldn't be the same without you here! Even if you still support Lewis more than me 🙄

└ yourinstagram HES THE GOAT!!!

└ username1 she’s so real

username6 we need more paddock content of you two!

username7 "best friends" sure jan

username8 george's smile whenever she’s around >>>>>

username9 MY FAVORITE DUOOOOO

username10 no one does best friends better than them

liked by yourinstagram, landonorris 1,028,946 others

georgerussell63 P1 BABY!!! Thank you to everyone for the amazing support - winning here in Austria feels amazing. Special shoutout to @/yourinstagram for the lucky socks tradition since F3 - even if they still have tiny race cars on them 😂 Team did a mega job this weekend! 🏆

view all comments

username1 THIS IS MY GOATTTTT

username2 GEORGIE I LOVE YOU

lewishamilton Great drive mate! 🙌

yourinstagram those socks won you GP3 AND F2, respect the lucky socks russell 😤

└ username1 YOU KEEP HIM HUMBLE YN

└ username2 whats the real lucky charm the socks or yn

└ georgerussell63 Fine fine, the socks stay

alex_albon expose him more about the socks pls @/yourinstagram

landonorris lucky socks with race cars?? we need pics

└ georgerussell63 Absolutely not, those pics are staying buried

username3 yn has been his real lucky charm since day 1 😭

username4 not the childhood best friends to lovers story we're witnessing

username5 the socks story is too cute i can't

username6 THIS IS MY GOAT

mercedesamgf1 Brilliant drive today George! 💫

username7 how long before he proposes guys??taking bets

username8 find someone who supports you like yn supports george

username9 that post-race hug though 👀

username10 These two give me hope in love

liked by username1, username2 and 15,378 others

f1_insiderinfo🚨 EXCLUSIVE: Mercedes driver George Russell spotted having an intimate dinner with mystery girl in Monaco! The pair were seen laughing and sharing food. Sources say they've been meeting here regularly. Has Britain's most eligible bachelor finally been taken?

view all comments

username1 MY BROTHER IN CHRIST THATS YN

username2 y’all must be new here 😭

username3 HEEEELP see we’re not delusional for saying they need to be a couple

username4 ffs that’s his best friend story being weird

yourinstagram ah yes, the very romantic dinner where I stole half his pasta and made him watch tiktoks of cats. very intimate. also that "usual spot" is just where they make his favorite tiramisu 🙄

└ georgerussell63 you INHALED half my pasta, there was no stealing involved. also you promised not to expose the tiramisu thing

└ yourinstagram what, scared the other drivers will find out you have a sweet tooth Mr. Professional Athlete? 👀

username5 not them exposing each other in the comments

username6 the way they banter like an old married couple

username7 "mystery girl" my foot, that's his other half since forever

username8 someone get me a friendship like this 😩

username9 SO TRUE YN AND GEORGE ENDGAME

username10 this is peak comedy

liked by username1, username2 and 12,836 others

russell.archive A thread of George Russell and his best friend YN through the years 🤍

Slide 1: 2014 - Their high school years

Slide 2: 2015 - Their prom photo

Slide 4: 2021 - His first points with Williams

Slide 5: 2024 - Another season together

The "just friends" agenda for 10 years and counting... 🤔

view all comments

username1 WAIT THEY'RE NOT DATING??? All this time I thought...

username2 the prom photo is giving soulmates idc idc

username3 slide 4… that's love

username4 not me thinking they were secretly married this whole time

username5 the way his race engineer calls her "the mrs" though

username6 look at how young they were in the first pic 🥺

username7 their height difference stayed exactly the same I'm crying

username8 everyone saying "best friends" meanwhile they act like this

username9 SOULMATES

yourinstagram omg the prom photo 😭 remember when you stepped on my feet during the entire first dance @/georgerussell63

└ georgerussell63 excuse me? who forgot the corsage at home and made us late?

└ username1 I LOVE THEM SO MUCH

└ username2 not me crying over this

───────── ౨ৎ ─────────

texts between george and yn

2019 rookies forever groupchat

───────── ౨ৎ ─────────

liked by jamessmith_eng, georgerussell63 and 82,468 others

yourinstagram date night 🍷thanks for a lovely evening @/jamessmith_eng

view all comments

username1 WAIT WHAT ABOUT GEORGE???

username2 someone check on george rn 😭

username3 the way my heart just DROPPED

alexandrasaintmleux 😍😍

username4 this has to be a joke right???

username5 10 years of analysis gone wrong...

landonorris inch resting

└ username1 LANDO WHAT DO YOU KNOW

username6 Not me having to explain to my bf that no, George and YN weren't actually dating this whole time

username7 guys can you please be normal for once? george and yn are FRIENDS stop being weird

username8 why is everyone being so dramatic?

username9 HAPPY FOR YOUUU

jamessmith_eng ❤️

liked by username1, username2 and 27,038

russell.archive The way he immediately looks for her after every race 🥺 (Hungary GP, 2024)

Scientists still trying to figure out how these two aren't together...

view all comments

username1 THE WAY HE LIGHTS UP WHEN HE SEES HER

username2 bro runs faster to her than he does on track

username3 10 year study of their relationship and still confused

username4 that hug is not giving "just friends" idc idc

username5 THE KISS HELLO

username6 not her wearing his mercedes jacket

username7 remember when he was sick and she flew across 3 countries just to make him soup??

username8 the race engineer calling her his better half I CANNOT

username9 someone tell that alpine engineer to back off please x

username10 very platonic sure

liked by alexandrasaintmleux, jamessmith_eng and 92,268 others

yourinstagram triple header concluded ‼️oh and i have a boyfriend now @/jamessmith_eng

view all comments

username1 OH-

username2 this feels... wrong

username3 not me zooming in to see if she's still wearing her matching bracelet with george

lilymhe cuties 🤍🤍

username4 THE ALPINE GUY?

username5 why is everyone acting weird like yn and george are just FRIENDS

landonorris 🤔

└ username1 he’s one of us

└username2 HEEEELP LANDO

└ yourinstagram you’re strange

username6 my heart breaks i really thought she was with george

username7 GEORGE’S SILENCE IS SO LOUD

username8 no like from george either 😭

jamessmith_eng 😍😍

└ username1 UM NO LEAVE OUR FAMILY ALONE

└ username2 go back to alpine

└ yourinstagram ❤️

username9 I JUST FELL TO MY KNEES

username10 i know george and yn are just friends but omfg this feels wroooong

liked by lewishamilton, yourinstagram and 876,366 others

georgerussell63 Gained nine places today but overall the damage was done yesterday. Congrats to LH and the team on the podium. We have another chance to fight before the summer break in Belgium. Bring it on.

view all comments

username1 no yn mention??? are you okay???

username2 first race post this without tagging yn i'm worried

username3 the way he usually writes "couldn't have done it without my lucky charm”

lewishamilton incredible drive 👏🏾

landonorris most depressing caption i've ever seen mate

└ username1 HE KNOWS 😭

└ username2 he’s so annoying

username4 where's the usual "special thanks to my favourite paddock menace"

username5 he's posted about yn in every race post for YEARS this is not a drill

username6 even the emojis are gone 😭

username7 BRO IS DEVASTATED and not only about the race

yourinstagram no selfie? 🥺 breaking tradition much

└ username1 CRYING

└ username2 george why are you breaking tradition

username8 alpine guy better make yn happy at least

username9 GEORGIE I BELIEVE IN YOU

username10 the damage in question was un hard launching her bf

───────── ౨ৎ ─────────

texts between george and yn

───────── ౨ৎ ─────────

liked by jamessmith_eng, lilymhe and 86,992 others

yourinstagram coffee runs with this oneee 🤍 @/jamessmith_eng

view all comments

username1 isn't that… george's usual coffee spot??

username2 the way she used to do this with george every race weekend 💔

username3 why does this feel wrong

iamrebeccad ❤️

francisca.cgomes i miss youuuuu

username4 BE NORMAL IN THIS COMMENT SECTION CHALLENGE

username5 she and george are endgame tho idc

username6 the wasy geroge never likes her posts with her tho

landonorris 🤐

└ username1 LANDO STOP

└ username2 he has no chill

└ yourinstagram i never understand what u mean

└ alex_albon oh honey

└ username3 IM WHEEZING

jamessmith_eng My ❤️

└ username1 i don't like his vibe george aside

└ yourinstagram love youuu

liked by username1, username2 and 16,038 others

f1gossip SPOTTED: George Russell with mystery brunette at London restaurant 👀

view all comments

username1 HELLO??' SINCE WHEN??

username2 yn's twitter likes suddenly very aggressive

username3 someone check on yn PLEASE

username4 the way she's sitting in yn's usual spot i feel sick

username5 toto watching his team's morale depend on these two idiots

username6 th groupchat must be wild rn

username7 GEORGIE WHAT ARE YOU DOINGGGGG

username8 ou george boyfriend era?

username9 this is alpine guy's fault

username10 THAT SHOULD BE HIM AND YN

───────── ౨ৎ ─────────

2019 rookies forever groupchat

───────── ౨ৎ ─────────

liked by jamessmith_eng, francisca.cgomes and 83,044 others

yourinstagram date with my favorite human 💕thank you for making me smile x @/jamessmith_eng

view all comments

username1 okay this might be cute

username2 CRYING AGAIN

username3 THAT SHOULD BE GEORGE

jamessmith_eng Perfect day with my perfect girl ❤️

└ username2 ewww

└ username1 come on they're happy stop being weird

└ yourinstagram 🥺🥺🥺

lilymhe we should have a double date!

└ alex_albon we're kinda busy

└ username2 LORD

└ username3 ALEX YOU'RE INSANE

└ username4 he said im with my boy george forever

└ yourinstagram buzzkill

username5 george didn't like this post either

username6 this is how we can get rid of him

username7 why are some people so weid about them yn and george are FRIENDS

username8 i want this

liked by yourinstagram, landonorris and 839,022 others

georgerussell63 Some traditions never change. Pre-race selfie and coffee with my best friend #15YearsAndCounting

view all comments

username1 I LOVE THEM SM

username2 george russell choosing violence today

username3 HE TAGGED IT 15 YEARS AND COUNTING I'M SCREAMING

mercedesamgf1 🤍

username4 GEORGE MARKING HIS TERRITORY

username5 james has been real quiet since this dropped

landonorris territorial much?

└ username1 LANDO STOP THIS MADNESS

└ georgerussell63 You're so strange mate

└ username2 SURE GEORGE play dumb we'll play along

yourinstagram LOVE YOU GEORGIE BOY!

└ username1 girl he loves you but like loves LOVES you

└ username2 wake up he's in love with you

└ georgerussell63 ❤️

username6 whe said who's james we don't know her

───────── ౨ৎ ─────────

texts between george and yn

───────── ౨ৎ ─────────

liked by francisca.cgomes, jamessmith_eng and 86,370 others

yourinstagram thank you for the flowers and for always finding your way back to me @/jamessmith_eng 🤍

view all comments

username1 GIRL

username2 this is the 4th "second" chance but ok

username3 not the apology flowers AGAIN

lewishamilton 👀

└ username1 EVEN LEWIS KNOWS

└ username2 PLEASE

username4 the whole garage pretending we didn't hear them fighting yesterday

alex_albon 🤦‍♂️

└ username1 ALEX IS HIS BIGGEST HATER

username5 somebody check on george

username6 girl get up

username7 can pierre and este sabotage him or something 😭

jamessmith_eng Love you baby ❤️

└ yourinstagram love you too x

───────── ౨ৎ ─────────

georgerussell63 has added to their stories

replies:

username1 GEORGE SWIFTIE CONFIRMED

username2 taylor’s version too

charles_leclerc 😂😂😂😂

alex_albon YOU FINALLY EMBRACED THAT YOU’RE TAYLOR SWIFT

└ georgerussell63 don’t push it

landonorris JUST TELL HER

pierregasly Whats this supposed to mean

yourinstagram YOU’RE SUCH A SWIFTIEEEE

└ georgerussell63 I love the lyrics of that one :)

───────── ౨ৎ ─────────

liked by georgerussell63, landonorris and 98,749 others

yourinstagram 15 years of friendship and watching you live your dream from the grandstands, and i still get butterflies every time that 63 crosses the line 🤍 couldn't be prouder of my best friend. race day ready as always @/georgerussell63 (still wearing the lucky charm bracelet you got me when we were 12 btw 😉)

view all comments

username1 MY FAMILY

username2 IM SOBBING

username3 james from alpine found shaking

lewishamilton 🖤

username4 THE KARTING PHOTO I'M SOBBING

landonorris remember when she used to hide behind trees to watch him practice?

└ yourinstagram LANDO DELETE THIS

└ username1 I LOVE THEM

username5 it has always been HIM

georgerussell63 Still can't believe you kept that bracelet

└ yourinstagram it's my good luck charm, you're not getting it back russell

└ georgerussell63 Wouldn't dream of it x

└ yourinstagram better not crash today, i'm wearing it

└ georgerussell63 Wouldn't dare disappoint my number 1 fan

└ yourinstagram since karting days

└ georgerussell63 And counting ❤️

└ username1 DID WE JUST WITNESS A MARRIAGE PROPOSAL?

└ username2 THEY CANT JUST DO THIS IN PUBLIC

username6 yeah they’re in love and everyone knows it but them

username7 james alpine you are BONES

username8 JUST GET MARRIED

username9 this slow burn friends to lovers idiots in love…

username10 lando and alex screaming rn

liked by yourinstagram, charles_leclerc and 1,022,497 others

georgerussell63 Found out she's still terrible at paddle after 15 years. Some things never change 🏸

view all comments

username1 girl whatever he said wasn't THAT funny you're just in love

username2 the way she looks at him vs the way she looks at james- anyway

mercedesamgf1 🖤

username3 NO ALPINE BOYFRIEND IN SIGHT WE WON

username4 the way she only laughs like that with george

username5 yn looking at george vs yn looking at james: a thesis

kimi.antonelli Great day 👏

landonorris "terrible at paddle" mate you dropped your racquet 3 times

└ georgerussell63 Trying to make her feel better

└ alex_albon by embarrassing yourself? smooth

└ username1 THIS IS MY FAMILY

└ username2 best trio forever

username6 not yn pulling a zendaya

yourinstagram i'm not that bad!

└ georgerussell63 You hit yourself with the racquet

└ yourinstagram you DISTRACTED me

└ georgerussell63 By existing?

└ yourinstagram by being annoying

└ username3 THE TENSION IS KILLING ME

username7 ou james don’t make that face

username8 i feel like something is shifting and these two will confess soon

username9 JUST KISS ALREADY

username10 the best friends secretly in love with each other of it all

───────── ౨ৎ ─────────

texts between george and yn

───────── ౨ৎ ─────────

liked by georgerussell63, charles_leclerc and 102,927 others

yourinstagram always 🤍

view all comments

username1 THE WAY I SCREAMED

username2 FINALLY FINALLY FINALLY

username3 that's george's hand i've studied it for 5 years I KNOW

mercedesamgf1 🥹

└ username1 toto just fist bumped lewis in the garage

landonorris took you long enough

└ username2 LANDOOO DONT CLOCK HER LIKE THAT

username4 the childhood friends to lovers pipeline never fails

username5 the easy we all just KNOW they finally confessed

username6 AND FUCK THAT JAMES GUY

username7 DO A PROPER HARD LAUCH

georgerussell63 ❤️

└ yourinstagram🤍

username8 if look idiots in love in urban dictionary a pic of george and yn shows up

username9 MY PARENTS

username10 plot twist this is actually the alpine guy 😭

───────── ౨ৎ ─────────

2019 rookies forever groupchat

───────── ౨ৎ ─────────

liked by username1, username2 and 19,738 others

f1gossip GEORGE AND YN AT THE LAS VEGAS PADDOCK RIGHT NOW THIS IS NOT A DRILL

view all comments

username1 OMFG

username2 I CANT BELIEVE THIS

username3 james found crying in alpine

username4 NO WAY FINALLY

username5 THESE TWO IDIOTS FINALLY REALIZED

username6 i’m crying, this is the softest love story ever

username7 ya conspiracy girlies were always right !!!!!!

username8 we witnessed this best friends to lovers slow burn happen in real time i can’t believe this

username9 NOT ME CRYING AT THIS

username10 guys they’re KISSING like WE USED TO PRAY FOR TIMES LIKE THESE

username11 george finally grew balls and confessed

username12 JAMES FROM ALPINE YOU’RE BONES

username13 WATCH GEORGE WIN TOMORROW

liked by georgerussell63, landonorris and 102,836 others

yourinstagram not just the race you won today mr russell 🏆🤍

view all comments

username1 THE WAY HE RAN STRAIGHT TO HER

username2 YOUR SMILE WHEN HE PICKED YOU UP

username3 the way james had to watch this from p7 💀

mercedesamgf1 Best vegas grand prix ever confirmed 👏

landonorris get a room

└ yourinstagram we did

└ landonorris HELLO???

└ username1 I HAD THE SAME REACTION LANDO

└ username2 no fucking way

username3 I CANNOT BELIEVE MY EYES

username4 they had been in love since forever like we could SEE IT it was about time they realized

username5 HE. GOT. THE. GIRL

username6 george russell you fucking did it

username7 IDIOTS IN LOVE SLOWBURN TROPE I FUCKING LOVE IT

username8 YABADABADOOOOO WE WERE RIGHT ALL THE TIME

username9 a love story fifteen years in the making

username10 EVERYTHING FALLS INTO PLACE

georgerussell63 Still can't believe you're mine

└ yourinstagram always have been. just took me a while to realize

└ georgerussell63 Worth every second of waiting 🤍

└ username1 IM SOBBING AGAIN

└ username2 this is the most beautiful thing ever

liked by yourinstagram, lewishamilton and 2,018,476 others

georgerussell63 Vegas ‘24. Won more than just a race tonight.

view all comments

username1 SOBBING AGAIN

username2 i still can’t quite believe this

username3 GEORGE RUSSELL THE MAN THAT YOU ARE

alex_albon boy went from you belong with me era to lover era real quick

└ georgerussell63 Stop with the Taylor Swift references

└ landonorris NEVER

└ username1 I LOVE THEM SO MUCH 😭😭

username4 THIS IS BETTER THAN ANY ROMANCE MOVIE

username5 alex and lando screaming somewhere because of this

username6 imagine being that alpine guy right now LMFAO

username7 they’re proof that real love always finds a way

lewishamilton Prod of you mate. On and off track 🖤

└ username1 AWEEEEEE

username8 best friends to lovers Y E S

username9 the fact that george waited YEARS for her and watched her with other guys but got her in the end. THIS IS TRUE LOVE

username10 this is way too pure

yourinstagram quite the victory lap mr russell

└ georgerussell63 Had to make it special for my special girl

└ yourinstagram you’re such a sap

└ georgerussell63 Your sap tho. Officially now

└ yourinstagram was always yours. just took me 15 years to realize 🤍

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verstappen-cult · 8 months ago

Text

ACCIDENTALLY SENDING HIM AN AUDIO MOANING, F1 GRID.

✶ THE GRID. max verstappen. charles leclerc. oscar piastri. lando norris. daniel ricciardo. george russell.

content warnings ✶ disclaimers. fem!reader. smau. sexting. suggestive content. attempted humor.

do not repost, translate, plagiarise or claim any of my works as your own. | © verstappen-cult, 2024.

GWEN RAMBLES — helloooo 🙂‍↔️🙂‍↔️🙂‍↔️ what is this? you may ask yourself. well, this is just a silly little thing i wanted to try. let me know what you think and if you’d like to see more of this. i had a very fun time doing these! comments & reblog are greatly appreciated.

#꒰꒰ 📁 ─ verstappen cult files ꒱꒱#max verstappen x reader #f1 imagine #charles leclerc x reader #f1 x reader #daniel ricciardo x reader #f1 fanfic #oscar piastri x reader #charles leclerc fluff #lando norris x reader #george russell x reader #f1 smau #f1 smut

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jungwnies · 6 days ago

Text

F1 GRID (1/2) | being lifted onto a counter

୨ৎ : featuring : max verstappen, lewis hamilton, george russell, carlos sainz, & charles leclerc (click here for part two) ୨ৎ : synopsis (requested by anon 🫐) : your f1 boyfriend picking you up on the counter... or maybe even vice verse for shits and giggles ;)

୨ৎ : genre : comedic romance & slightly suggestive (for some drivers) ୨ৎ : tws : suggestive if you SQUINT ୨ৎ : word count : 1893

୨ৎ masterlist ୨ৎ

ᡣ𐭩 a/n : y'all it's freaking race weekend finally... i can feel the winter depression leaving my body 👻

ʚ・max verstappen

max was feeling smug.

not that it was unusual, but this time, he had good reason.

he had just lifted you onto the kitchen counter with zero effort, hands firm on your waist, placing you there like you weighed nothing. you had gasped, mildly startled, but it was hard to argue when his grin was so self-satisfied.

“there,” he said, standing between your legs, his hands still resting on your thighs. “problem solved.”

you arched a brow at him, trying not to melt at how good he looked with his post-workout messy hair and that stupid smirk. “oh? and what exactly was the problem?”

max shrugged, fingers giving a playful squeeze to your legs. “you were in my way.”

you scoffed, lightly smacking his shoulder. “you just like showing off.”

his smirk widened. “you love it.”

you rolled your eyes, but your fingers didn’t move from where they clung to the fabric of his hoodie. “i could lift you too,” you blurted out, immediately regretting it.

max paused.

his eyebrows slowly lifted, amusement twinkling in his blue eyes. “oh yeah?”

you hesitated for a split second but quickly doubled down. “yeah. i bet i could lift you.”

max chuckled, fully entertained now. “go on, then.”

and that was how you found yourself attempting to lift a nearly 6-foot, 160-pound world champion off the ground like you had something to prove.

you wrapped your arms around his waist, bent your knees, took a deep breath… and nothing happened.

max did not budge.

instead, you let out a strangled grunt, your arms barely managing to shift him an inch before your muscles gave out.

max was dying laughing, barely holding himself up as he leaned into you, his forehead resting on your shoulder as he shook with laughter.

“oh my god,” he wheezed. “are you even trying?”

you groaned, face hot, still stubbornly trying to heave him upwards. “you’re—way heavier than you look!”

max tilted his head, grinning. “are you calling me fat?”

“yes,” you gasped, dramatically collapsing against him, completely out of breath. “you’re made of bricks.”

he was grinning like an idiot now. “maybe you just need to train harder.”

“oh, shut up.”

max smirked, leaning in way too close, his hands firm on your hips again. “admit it,” he murmured. “you like when i do all the lifting.”

you narrowed your eyes. “you’re insufferable.”

his smirk widened. “still stuck up here, though.”

and yeah, you were. but you were never admitting defeat.

ʚ・lewis hamilton

the kitchen was warm with the scent of fresh coffee and something sweet, probably the pastries lewis had insisted on picking up this morning. you were barely awake, wearing one of his oversized hoodies, standing by the counter and lazily stirring your tea.

lewis, fresh from his morning workout, had already found his way behind you, arms loosely wrapping around your waist. his chest was firm against your back, radiating warmth.

“you’re in my way,” he murmured, but his hands were sliding against your hips, fingers pressing into the fabric of the hoodie that was very much his.

“you came into my kitchen,” you pointed out, sipping your tea.

“our kitchen,” he corrected smoothly, lips brushing against the shell of your ear.

you could hear the smirk in his voice.

before you could fire back with something equally smug, lewis’s hands suddenly gripped your waist, and before you knew it, you were lifted effortlessly off the ground. a surprised gasp left your lips as he set you down onto the kitchen counter, placing himself between your legs.

your heart stuttered at the sudden shift.

“lewis,” you laughed breathlessly, palms pressing against his chest. “what—”

he leaned in, his face dangerously close to yours, his hands sliding to rest against your thighs.

“you were making things difficult down there,” he murmured, his fingers teasingly brushing against your skin. “this is a much better angle.”

your breath hitched slightly, eyes flickering to his lips before snapping back to his teasing gaze. “you could have just asked me to move.”

lewis smirked, tilting his head. “where’s the fun in that?”

you narrowed your eyes at him. “you just wanted an excuse to put me here, didn’t you?”

he hummed, fingers still tracing slow, absentminded circles against your thigh. “maybe.”

your body betrayed you, warmth creeping up your neck at how easily he could make your knees weak.

lewis noticed. of course he did.

his lips brushed against your jaw, feather-light. “are you flustered?”

you rolled your eyes, trying to play it off, but your fingers instinctively curled into the fabric of his hoodie. “you wish.”

he grinned, hands squeezing your thighs slightly. “you’re right,” he murmured, voice lower now. “i don’t have to wish.”

and just like that, your entire morning plans shifted.

ʚ・george russell

you were standing by the kitchen counter, still wrapped in one of george’s oversized shirts, attempting to make coffee when two strong arms wrapped around your waist from behind.

a lazy smile spread across your face. “good morning to you too.”

george hummed against your shoulder, pressing a soft kiss to your exposed skin. “mmm… morning, love,” he murmured, voice still thick with sleep. his arms tightened slightly, pulling you closer into his warmth. “why are you up so early?”

you laughed softly, leaning into his hold. “it’s almost ten.”

“that’s early.”

you rolled your eyes, feeling his lips brush against your neck again. “you’re ridiculous.”

“i’m on vacation,” he reminded you, burying his face in your shoulder like he could melt into you completely. “and i don’t want to start my day without at least five minutes of properly cuddling you.”

you smiled, melting at how soft he was in the mornings. george was always composed, always put together—but here, in the quiet of a vacation morning, with the warmth of the sun on his skin and no race weekend stress in sight, he was nothing but yours.

you turned in his arms, wrapping yours around his neck. “what if we just stay here all day?” you suggested, voice teasing.

george lifted his head, a small smirk playing on his lips. “i love the way you think.”

and before you could even react, he effortlessly lifted you onto the kitchen counter, his hands firm on your waist.

you gasped, clutching onto his shoulders. “george!”

he grinned, stepping between your legs, his hands sliding up to cradle your face. “now i have your full attention.”

“you always have my full attention.”

his smirk softened into something sweeter. “good,” he murmured, pressing a slow, lingering kiss to your lips.

the coffee sat forgotten on the counter, the warm breeze from the open windows making the moment feel even dreamier.

“best vacation ever,” he mumbled against your lips, pulling you even closer.

and with the way he was looking at you, like you were the only thing in the world that mattered, you had to agree.

ʚ・carlos sainz

it started as a completely innocent idea.

you had seen carlos do it before—effortlessly lifting you onto the kitchen counter like you weighed nothing, always with that smug little grin. it was annoying how easy he made it look.

so, today, you decided to flip the script.

carlos was standing at the counter, absentmindedly scrolling through his phone while waiting for the kettle to boil. his posture was relaxed, completely unsuspecting. it was perfect.

you took a deep breath, squared your shoulders, and wrapped your arms around his waist from behind, attempting to lift him off the ground.

attempting.

because the second you tried to pull him up, you immediately regretted it.

carlos didn’t budge.

not even an inch.

if anything, you were pretty sure you moved yourself more than you moved him.

carlos, who had barely even reacted, finally glanced over his shoulder, an eyebrow raised in amusement. “what… exactly are you doing?”

your arms were still locked around his waist, your feet planted firmly as you tried one more desperate attempt. you groaned, using every muscle in your body to lift him.

nothing.

carlos grinned, setting his phone down. “are you trying to pick me up?”

you panted, feeling a bead of sweat forming. “yes. shut up.”

he laughed, shaking his head. “good try, amor.”

before you could even process his words, his hands were suddenly gripping your waist, and in one smooth motion, he lifted you clean off the floor.

a surprised yelp left your lips as he spun you around and set you down directly onto the counter.

carlos, still grinning, stepped between your legs, his hands still firmly on your waist. “that,” he said, tilting his head, “is how you do it.”

you scowled, crossing your arms. “unfair advantage. you’ve been training your whole life.”

carlos hummed, looking way too pleased with himself. “and you thought a sneak attack would work?”

“i thought you’d be caught off guard!”

he chuckled, leaning in closer, his voice teasing. “you think i don’t always expect your little tricks?”

you huffed dramatically. “one day, i’ll lift you.”

carlos smirked, pressing a slow kiss to your cheek. “mmm. looking forward to it, cariño.”

and somehow, that felt like an even bigger challenge.

ʚ・charles leclerc

the party was in full swing, music humming through the air, laughter spilling from different corners of the room. you were standing near the bar, chatting with a few friends, sipping on your drink when you felt a familiar warmth press against your back.

charles.

“having fun?” he murmured, his breath brushing against your ear.

you smiled, not bothering to turn around. “i was… until some guy started interrupting my conversation.”

charles chuckled, his hands casually sliding around your waist, his fingers pressing gently into your sides. “some guy, hmm?”

“mmm.” you took another sip, playing along. “he’s kind of annoying.”

before you could tease him any further, his grip suddenly tightened, and before you even had time to process, you were lifted effortlessly into the air.

a surprised gasp escaped your lips as he set you onto the bar counter, right in front of everyone.

“charles!” you smacked his chest, your legs dangling off the edge as he grinned up at you.

his green eyes sparkled mischievously, hands still casually resting on your thighs as he leaned in just a little closer. “what? you looked too nice standing there, i wanted you at my level.”

“you are so improper,” you scolded, fighting back a smile.

“maybe,” he murmured, his smirk turning softer as his fingers lightly traced circles against your skin. “but you love it.”

before you could retort, a dramatic groan echoed from behind you.

“oh my god, can you two not?”

you glanced over your shoulder to see lando, rolling his eyes, drink in hand, looking utterly unimpressed.

pierre, standing beside him, shook his head. “they do this everywhere.”

“i’m sick of it,” carlos added, taking a sip of his wine. “they don’t even care we’re here.”

charles, completely unbothered, grinned up at you. “jealous?”

lando scoffed. “of you? no. of her? maybe.”

you laughed, finally giving in and threading your fingers through charles’s hair, letting your other hand rest on his cheek. “fine,” you sighed dramatically. “i guess i’ll keep you.”

charles leaned into your touch, smirk fading into something sweeter. “good,” he murmured. “because i’m not going anywhere.”

and as much as your friends complained, neither of you moved.

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loafysainz · 26 days ago

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🎥 HANDING MY BOYFRIEND MY PANTIES AT DINNER AND GET HIS REACTION

carlos sainz, lewis hamilton, lando norris, max verstappen, charles leclerc, oscar piastri, george russell × reader! warn: 18+, smut, minor dni insp by this trend

Carlos Sainz

Carlos Sainz was a patient man.

But not when it came to you.

He had spent the entire evening watching you, his dark brown eyes tracking your every move. The way your lips wrapped around the rim of your wine glass, the way you crossed and uncrossed your legs under the table, the way you leaned forward just enough to tease him with the barest hint of cleavage.

Carlos had been holding himself back. Barely.

And you? You were about to push him past his limit.

The restaurant was elegant—low lights, soft music, the hum of quiet conversations surrounding you. Carlos sat across from you, dressed in a perfectly tailored black button-down, the sleeves rolled up to reveal his forearms, veins prominent as he lazily toyed with his glass. He looked so effortlessly sexy, so unfairly attractive, and you couldn’t help but wonder how far you could push him.

You shifted in your seat, heart pounding, as you subtly reached under the table. You hooked your fingers into your panties, slowly, discreetly, slipping them down your legs, the cool air against your bare skin making you shiver.

Carlos was oblivious, swirling his wine, licking his lips as he studied the menu.

And then—casually, with a small smirk—you reached across the table and placed your panties in his hand.

Carlos froze.

His fingers curled around the fabric instinctively before he even realized what he was holding. He blinked, looking down at his palm.

A beat of silence.

Then another.

And then—oh, fuck.

His entire body tensed. His jaw clenched so hard you thought it might crack. His nostrils flared as he exhaled a sharp breath, his grip tightening around the delicate lace like he was resisting the urge to crush it in his fist.

Slowly—so slowly—Carlos lifted his eyes to meet yours.

Dark. Heavy. Predatory.

He didn’t say anything at first. Just stared at you, his tongue flicking out to wet his lips, his chest rising and falling in slow, controlled breaths.

And then—his voice, deep, low, almost a growl—

“Dime que no hiciste lo que creo que hiciste.” (Tell me you didn’t just do what I think you did.)

You tilted your head, pretending to be innocent. “What do you think I did, cariño?”

Carlos inhaled sharply, his fingers flexing around the lace before he shoved it into the pocket of his trousers. His knee bounced under the table, his entire body buzzing with tension. He dragged a hand down his face, shaking his head with a dark chuckle.

“You’re testing me,” he muttered, more to himself than to you.

You sipped your drink, biting back a smirk. “Maybe.”

Carlos exhaled a slow, measured breath. His fingers tapped against the table, his eyes flickering down to your lap, realization sinking in.

“No panties,” he murmured. His voice was rough, thick with something dangerously close to desperation. He swallowed hard, shifting in his seat like he was physically struggling to stay put.

You crossed your legs slowly, watching the way his jaw ticked. “Mmm.”

Carlos let out a quiet, bitter laugh. “Eres un problema, ¿lo sabes?” (You’re a fucking problem, you know that?)

He adjusted in his seat, exhaling harshly. “Now I have to sit here. In this restaurant. Acting normal. While I know you’re sitting there…” His voice dropped, dark, his accent thickening. “All wet. All needy.” He licked his lips, eyes burning with heat. “For me.”

Your breath hitched.

Carlos saw. And smirked.

His knee suddenly pressed against your thigh under the table, firm and possessive, making your pulse skyrocket.

“I should drag you to the bathroom right now,” he muttered, voice thick with frustration. “Make you sit on my lap. Make you ride me slow. Until you can’t stay quiet anymore.”

Your stomach dropped.

Your entire body burned.

Carlos chuckled darkly at your reaction. “Oh, you like that idea?” He tilted his head, his fingers twitching like he was fighting the urge to reach for you. “Would you like it, hmm? Biting your lip, trying not to moan? Knowing that if you make one sound, everyone in this restaurant will know what I’m doing to you?”

You clenched your thighs together instinctively, and Carlos noticed.

His smirk widened, his knee pressing even firmer against you.

He leaned in, his breath warm against your ear.

“You started this game, amor.” His voice was a low, dangerous whisper. “Now you have to deal with the consequences.”

Your stomach flipped.

Carlos sat back, stretching his arms over the back of his chair, looking like the picture of relaxation—except for the way

his hands curled into fists, like he was using every ounce of self-control to stop himself from grabbing you.

“You better eat fast,” he muttered, his leg still pressed against yours, his eyes still devouring you.

“Because the second we leave this restaurant?” His voice was gravelly, dripping with hunger.

“I’m going to fucking ruin you.”

—

Lewis Hamilton

Dinner with Lewis was always an experience. He had impeccable taste—whether it was in fashion, cars, or five-star restaurants with private dining rooms that catered to the elite. Tonight was no different. The restaurant was dimly lit, with an intimate atmosphere and a view of the Monaco harbor glistening under the night sky.

Lewis sat across from you, wearing a tailored suit with no tie, the top few buttons of his crisp shirt undone to reveal just a hint of his tattoos. He looked like a damn dream—effortlessly cool, his jewelry catching the soft candlelight, his full lips curving into a smirk as he listened to you talk.

And you? You were about to make things very, very interesting.

The idea had been teasing you all night. The way Lewis had kept his hand on your thigh during the car ride here, the way his deep, smooth voice sent shivers down your spine, the way he knew he was irresistible and used it against you. It was time to turn the tables.

You shifted in your seat, pretending to adjust your dress while slipping your panties down your thighs, letting the lace pool at your ankles before discreetly stepping out of them. You balled them in your hand, heart racing with anticipation.

Lewis was mid-sentence, swirling his wine glass lazily, when you reached across the table and placed the delicate fabric in his palm.

His fingers closed around it instinctively before realization set in.

He blinked, lifting his hand slightly under the table, his expression unreadable at first. And then—oh, then—that signature smirk spread across his lips, slow and devastatingly sexy. His tongue flicked out to wet them, eyes dragging from the panties to your face, amusement flickering behind the heat in his gaze.

“You’re bold tonight, love.” His voice was low, almost a purr.

You took a sip of your champagne, feigning innocence. “I have no idea what you mean.”

Lewis exhaled a slow breath, shaking his head. “Oh, you know exactly what I mean.”

His fingers tightened around the lace before slipping them discreetly into the pocket of his blazer.

He leaned forward, his gaze dark and smoldering. “So, what’s the plan, then? You expect me to just sit here, act normal, knowing you’re sitting across from me with nothing underneath that little dress?”

Your lips curled. “That was the idea.”

Lewis chuckled, the deep sound sending a shiver down your spine. He adjusted in his seat, exhaling sharply. “You’re playin’ dangerous, babe.”

“And what are you gonna do about it?” You batted your lashes at him, knowing full well you were poking the bear.

Lewis’s jaw clenched, his eyes dropping to your lips before flicking back up. He lifted his glass, taking a slow sip of wine, his demeanor calm—too calm. That was the most dangerous sign of all.

The waiter arrived, placing your entrées in front of you, completely unaware of the silent war happening at this table.

Lewis picked up his fork, rolling his shoulders like he was trying to shake off whatever thoughts were running through his mind.

But then—oh, fuck.

You felt the softest brush against your thigh.

Your breath hitched.

Lewis smirked, casually cutting into his steak like he wasn’t dragging his fingers up the inside of your leg beneath the table, like he wasn’t making his way higher and higher with every passing second.

You shot him a glare, shifting in your seat, but that only made him chuckle. “Something wrong?” he asked, voice innocent.

Bastard.

His fingers brushed the apex of your thighs, barely teasing the sensitive skin, and you had to fight the urge to clamp your legs shut.

You inhaled sharply, gripping your fork a little tighter. “You’re really gonna do this here?”

Lewis tilted his head, lips curving. “You started it.”

His touch disappeared just as quickly as it came, leaving you throbbing, your skin hot, your body desperate for more.

And that’s when you knew you were in trouble.

Lewis sat back, stretching out his legs, the picture of relaxed confidence. He wiped his mouth with a napkin, then leaned in slightly.

“When we get back to the hotel…” His voice was a dark promise, smooth as silk. “You better be ready for me, baby.”

Your stomach flipped, heat coiling low in your belly.

Oh, you were so screwed.

Dinner suddenly felt like a countdown to something far more delicious. And by the way Lewis kept stealing glances at you—like he was barely holding himself back—you had a feeling he wouldn’t be ordering dessert.

At least, not at the restaurant.

—

Lando Norris

Dinner with Lando was never boring.

He had a way of making everything fun—whether it was cracking jokes, teasing you, or finding little ways to touch you every chance he got. Tonight was no different. You were at a high-end restaurant in Monaco, overlooking the water, Lando sipping on his cocktail as he playfully nudged your foot under the table.

He looked good—hair slightly tousled, wearing a fitted black suit with no tie, the crisp white of his shirt accentuating his tan skin. The top two buttons were undone, just enough to tease you with a glimpse of his collarbone.

And right now? He had no idea what was coming.

So, you decided it was time to turn the tables.

The restaurant was buzzing with quiet conversations, the candlelight casting a soft glow over the table, and Lando? He was completely oblivious, sipping his drink, scrolling through the menu, looking criminally good in his tailored black suit.

You took a slow breath, pretending to shift in your seat, your hands disappearing beneath the table. Your pulse thrummed as you hooked your fingers into your panties, dragging them down your legs, over your heels, and slipping them into your palm.

And then—casually, innocently—you reached across the table and pressed them into his hand.

Lando took them instinctively, still half-distracted, his thumb brushing over the fabric—soft, lacy, unmistakably not something that belonged in a restaurant.

He froze.

His blue eyes flicked down at his hand, then up at you.

His breath hitched. “No.” His voice was a strangled whisper. He blinked, like his brain couldn’t quite process what just happened. He looked back down at the lace, gripping it between his fingers, and then back at you—eyes wide, pupils blown.

“No fucking way.”

You just took a sip of your drink, acting

completely unfazed. “Something wrong?”

Lando let out a shaky breath, running a hand through his curls. “Are you—” He exhaled sharply. “You didn’t just—” His voice dropped lower, almost a growl. “Tell me you’re fucking with me right now.”

You bit your lip, shaking your head.

Lando’s jaw clenched so tight you thought it might snap. His grip on the panties tightened before he hastily shoved them into the pocket of his blazer, his fingers twitching like he was fighting every single urge running through his body.

His leg bounced under the table. He dragged his hands down his face. “You—” He let out a low, breathy laugh, but it was strained, like he was hanging on by a thread.

“You little—” His voice cut off, his head tilting back slightly as he inhaled through his nose.

You could see it. The shift. The way his entire demeanor darkened. The way his hands clenched into fists like he didn’t trust himself to keep them to himself.

And then, he leaned forward, eyes locked onto you, his voice barely above a whisper.

“You’re gonna fucking regret that.”

A shiver ran down your spine.

The waiter arrived at that exact moment, asking if you needed more wine, completely oblivious to the absolute meltdown Lando was having in real-time.

Lando barely glanced at him, his jaw clenched so tight his words were almost clipped. “No. We’re good.”

The moment the waiter left, Lando shifted in his seat, clearing his throat. “I hope you realize,” he muttered, “that I now have to sit through this entire dinner with a fucking hard-on.”

You smirked. “Poor baby.”

His eye twitched.

His knee suddenly pressed against the inside of your thigh under the table, firm, possessive, making you inhale sharply.

Lando smirked at your reaction, his fingers twitching as if debating whether or not to reach for you. “No panties. Just sitting there. All pretty. Knowing what you just did to me.” His voice was dark. Husky. “You’re playing a dangerous fucking game.”

You swallowed, shifting slightly, pressing your thighs together, and Lando noticed. His smirk widened.

“Ohhh,” he murmured, tilting his head. “You think you’re in control here?”

He leaned in, voice dropping even lower, lips barely an inch from your ear.

“Just wait till we get back to the hotel, baby,” he whispered. “I’m gonna make sure you feel what you just did to me.”

Heat coiled in your stomach.

Lando sat back, stretching his legs out, exhaling slowly. His fingers drummed against the table, his eyes flickering over your body, taking his time, like he was memorizing you.

“Eat your dinner, baby.” he muttered, shifting in his seat again, adjusting himself. “After we done this. You’re mine.”

Your entire body burned.

And suddenly, dinner felt like the longest fucking event of your life.

—

Charles Leclerc

You knew exactly what you were doing.

Charles Leclerc was the perfect mix of sweet and sinful—soft when he loved you, but intense when he wanted you. He could melt you with just a smile, but when he needed you? When you pushed him too far? That was when he became dangerous.

Tonight, you were playing with fire.

The restaurant was romantic—low lights, soft music, a flickering candle between you. Charles looked breathtaking across the table, his white button-down slightly unbuttoned, his hair tousled in that effortless way that made your fingers itch to run through it. His green eyes sparkled in the dim light, his lips curling in a small, amused smile as he sipped his wine.

You wanted to see how far you could push him.

So, while Charles was distracted, you reached under the table. Your fingers brushed the hem of your dress, heart racing as you slowly—so slowly—slid your panties down your legs. The soft lace glided over your thighs, your knees, pooling at your ankles before you kicked them off.

Charles was still flipping through the menu, completely oblivious.

You swallowed a smirk, reached across the table, and—without a word—placed the fabric in his open palm.

Charles didn’t react at first.

Then—

His fingers froze.

His eyes flickered down, scanning the lace in his palm, his lips parting slightly.

Then—very slowly—he lifted his gaze to yours.

His breath hitched.

His jaw tensed.

His entire body went rigid.

“Mon amour…” His voice was a whisper, but there was something different about it. Something deep, something dark.

You tilted your head innocently. “Yes, baby?”

Charles exhaled sharply, his hand disappearing under the table as he shoved the panties into his pocket. His fingers twitched against the fabric, his entire body suddenly filled with nervous energy.

“No.” He shook his head, running a hand through his hair. “No, you—” His voice broke slightly, and he cleared his throat, leaning forward.

“You are telling me…” His accent was thicker now, deeper, as he swallowed hard. “That you are sitting here. With nothing under your dress.”

You nodded, biting back a smirk.

Charles groaned. His head fell back slightly, eyes fluttering shut as he muttered something very fast in French under his breath.

Then he looked back at you—his pupils blown, his breath uneven.

“Baby,” he whispered. His voice was soft, but there was a raw edge to it. His hand found your knee under the table, his thumb brushing slow circles against your skin. The touch was gentle, but his grip was firm.

Possessive.

His fingers inched higher.

You gasped softly.

Charles inhaled sharply, his hand freezing before it could go any higher. His jaw clenched, his knuckles turning white.

“No,” he muttered. “No, I can’t—” He cut himself off, exhaling harshly.

His eyes were burning.

“You’re making this very difficult for me, mon amour.”

You smirked. “That’s the idea.”

Charles let out a short, breathy laugh, shaking his head. “Incroyable.” (Unbelievable.)

Then—so suddenly—he grabbed his napkin and dropped it on the floor.

“Oh,” he muttered, completely unconvincing. “How clumsy of me.”

Your eyes widened. “Charles, don’t—”

Too late.

He dipped under the table.

Your heart stopped.

“Charles—” Your breath hitched as you felt the ghost of his lips brush against the inside of your knee.

Then higher.

And higher.

Your entire body tensed.

His hands rested on your thighs, warm and steady, his breath hot against your bare skin.

Your pulse skyrocketed.

“Charles,” you whispered, barely breathing.

His voice came from under the table, low and teasing. “What is it, chérie?”

Your hands gripped the tablecloth, panic and desire swirling together in your chest. “You need to come up.”

He hummed. “Do I?”

His lips skimmed the inside of your thigh.

Your breathing stuttered. “Charles—”

Then—

A loud noise from the kitchen made him jolt.

His head smacked against the underside of the table.

“Merde!” (Fuck!)

He shot up so fast he nearly knocked over his wine glass, his cheeks flushed, his hair messy, his lips red.

You clapped a hand over your mouth, trying not to laugh.

Charles groaned, rubbing the back of his head. “I hate you.”

You giggled. “You love me.”

His eyes darkened.

“Oh, mon amour,” he murmured, leaning forward, his voice dripping with promise.

“You will regret this when we get home.”

Your stomach flipped.

Charles smirked.

Then he picked up his menu, casually flipping through it like he hadn’t just been under the table.

Like he wasn’t still rock hard.

Like he wasn’t about to absolutely destroy you the second you were alone.

You swallowed hard.

You were so screwed.

—

Max Verstappen

Max Verstappen was competitive in everything.

On the track, he was ruthless. In life, he always wanted to win. But in the bedroom?

He didn’t just compete—he owned.

And tonight, you were playing with fire.

The restaurant was high-end, filled with soft chatter and the occasional clink of wine glasses. Max sat across from you, looking effortlessly sexy in a black dress shirt with the top few buttons undone, his strong forearms resting on the table. His blue eyes flickered up from his menu, locking onto yours with that signature intensity.

“Why are you smirking?” he asked, voice laced with suspicion.

You didn’t answer. Instead, you reached under the table, heart pounding as you hooked your fingers into the sides of your panties. Slowly—so slowly—you slid them down, feeling the lace brush against your bare skin.

Max had no idea what was coming.

Once the fabric was off, you balled it up in your hand and reached across the table. “Here,” you said casually, dropping the delicate lace into his palm.

Max’s brows furrowed. His fingers curled around the fabric, and then—

His entire body went still.

His grip tightened.

His jaw locked.

You saw the exact moment realization hit. His ocean-blue eyes darkened, flickering between the panties in his hand and you, sitting there, completely bare under your dress.

Max inhaled sharply. “Are you fucking kidding me?” His voice was low—dangerously low.

You leaned forward, eyes playful. “Something wrong, baby?”

Max’s Adam’s apple bobbed as he swallowed, his fingers disappearing under the table. He shoved the panties into his pocket so fast you almost laughed. His

other hand gripped the edge of the table, his knuckles turning white.

“Tell me,” he murmured, tilting his head slightly. “Are you sitting here, at this table, with nothing under that dress?”

You nodded.

His nostrils flared.

“Jesus Christ.”

You smirked. “Cat got your tongue, Max?”

His gaze snapped to yours, and suddenly, the air between you changed.

The playful energy shifted into something heavier.

Something dangerous.

Max leaned forward, his voice low and sharp. “You think this is funny?”

You shrugged, enjoying the way his grip tightened on the table, his breath growing uneven. “A little.”

He exhaled through his nose, his jaw clenching so tight it looked painful.

Then—so suddenly—he sat back, a slow, wicked smirk curling his lips.

“Alright,” he murmured. “Game on, liefje.” (Sweetheart.)

Your stomach flipped.

Max shifted in his seat, stretching his legs

out under the table—until his knee pressed firmly between your thighs. Your breath hitched, your body going rigid as he applied the lightest pressure.

Your eyes widened. “Max—”

He tilted his head, feigning innocence. “What? Something wrong?”

His knee pressed harder.

You swallowed hard, your breath stuttering as heat flooded your body. “You’re evil.”

He grinned, completely unbothered. “And you’re an idiot if you think I’m letting you get away with this.”

His fingers drummed casually against the table as he continued, voice slow and taunting. “You know, I was going to take my time with you tonight.” He exhaled sharply, shaking his head. “But now?”

His voice dropped even lower.

“Now, I have no choice but to ruin you.”

Your entire body shivered.

Max smirked. He knew exactly what he was doing.

His knee pressed higher, his strong thigh now between your legs, keeping you right where he wanted you. “Look at you,” he mused, his accent thick, teasing. “So quiet all of a sudden. Where’s that bratty attitude now, huh?”

You glared at him, but the effect was lost

when your breath hitched at the way he was touching you.

Max chuckled darkly. “Oh, baby,” he murmured. “You just made the biggest mistake of your life.”

Your mouth went dry.

Max picked up his menu, pretending to study it, but his knee stayed right where it was.

The worst part?

He acted like nothing was happening.

Like he wasn’t pressing you against the chair.

Like he wasn’t completely hard under the table.

Like he wasn’t planning a thousand ways to make you pay for this

the second you were alone.

You shifted in your seat, desperate for some relief.

Max caught it immediately. His grip on the table tightened, his breathing sharp.

Then—so quietly only you could hear—he whispered, “Do that again, and I swear to God, I’ll drag you into the bathroom right now.”

You froze.

Max’s smirk was lazy, but his eyes?

His eyes were pure fire.

—

Oscar Piastri

Oscar Piastri was a problem.

No, Oscar was a problem because he was impossible to read.

When he was mad, he didn’t explode—he got quiet. When he was turned on, he didn’t stumble over his words or blush—he became dangerous.

And tonight?

You had just challenged him.

The restaurant was sleek and modern, the

kind of place that matched Oscar’s cool, composed energy. He sat across from you, dressed simply in a fitted black shirt, sleeves rolled up just enough to reveal the veins on his forearms. His fingers tapped against the table absentmindedly as he scrolled through the wine menu, completely unaware of what was coming.

You shifted in your seat, heart pounding as you reached beneath the table. With slow, deliberate movements, you slid your panties down, feeling the soft lace brush over your thighs, your knees—until they were off completely.

Then, with a calm smile, you reached across the table.

“Here,” you murmured, dropping the delicate fabric into his open palm.

Oscar didn’t react immediately.

His fingers curled around the lace, his grip firm but unreadable. His eyes flickered down, scanning the fabric like it was nothing more than a business card someone had handed him.

Then, finally, he looked at you.

And fuck.

His brown eyes were steady, calculating—sharp.

His expression didn’t change. He didn’t smirk, didn’t blush, didn’t flinch.

He just… stared.

Long enough that you shifted in your seat, suddenly less sure about what you’d just done.

Then—slowly—he leaned forward, elbows resting on the table.

His voice was quiet. Calm.

“You’re not wearing anything under that dress.”

It wasn’t a question.

You swallowed. “No.”

He hummed, nodding slightly as he tucked the panties into his pocket like they were nothing. Then he picked up his menu, flipping through it as if this was just another casual dinner.

Your stomach flipped.

That was it? No teasing? No reaction?

Oscar glanced up, catching your slight frown. His lips curled into the smallest smirk.

“You expected me to crack, didn’t you?”

You hesitated. “Maybe.”

He huffed out a quiet laugh, shaking his head. “You have no idea what you’ve done, do you?”

You blinked. “I—”

Oscar shut his menu, setting it aside. Then—so suddenly—he reached across the

table, gripping your wrist. Not rough. Not forceful.

But firm.

His thumb brushed against your pulse.

You knew he could feel how fast it was racing.

His voice dropped, calm and cold.

“You think you can just hand me your panties and expect me to lose control?”

You swallowed.

His grip tightened.

“No, baby.” His voice was deadly soft. “That’s not how this works.”

Your breath caught in your throat.

Oscar exhaled through his nose, sitting back like he wasn’t currently ruining your entire life with just his voice.

Then—just to be cruel—he leaned in slightly, dropping his voice so only you could hear.

“I’m going to finish my drink.”

Your stomach dropped.

“Then we’re going to leave.”

Your thighs clenched together.

Oscar smirked. He noticed.

“And when we get home,” he murmured, “you’re going to get on your knees and apologize.”

Your breath hitched.

Oscar leaned back in his chair, completely unbothered, picking up his glass and taking a slow sip.

Then, just for fun, he tilted his head and smirked.

“Still think this was a good idea?”

You were so screwed.

—

George Russell

George Russell was a gentleman.

Polite. Well-mannered. The kind of man who held doors open, pulled out your chair, and kissed the back of your hand just to see you blush.

But there was a danger in that charm.

Because underneath all that posh, British elegance?

George was ruthless.

And tonight?

You were about to learn just how much.

The restaurant was candlelit, expensive, and filled with the quiet hum of conversation. George sat across from you, impossibly handsome in a tailored navy

suit, the top two buttons of his shirt undone just enough to tease. His Rolex gleamed under the soft light as he picked up his wine glass, fingers wrapping around the stem with effortless grace.

You watched him, heart pounding, as you slowly—deliberately—slid your hands under the table.

George didn’t notice at first. He was reading the menu, his brows slightly furrowed, completely unaware that you were currently slipping off your panties in the middle of a five-star restaurant.

Your breath hitched as you finally pulled them free, the delicate lace pooling in your hand.

“George.”

Then, with a coy smile, you reached across the table.

He looked up, eyes warm. “Yes, darling?”

You placed your panties in his open palm.

George blinked.

His fingers curled around the lace, and for a moment, he just stared at you, completely unreadable.

Then—so slowly—his lips parted, his tongue briefly darting out to wet them.

His jaw ticked.

You smirked. “Something wrong?”

You saw the exact second realization hit—the way his throat bobbed as he swallowed, his grip tightening just slightly around the fabric.

George exhaled a quiet chuckle, shaking his head. “You are unbelievable.”

You leaned in, tilting your head. “Why? Is Mr. Russell flustered?”

His eyes darkened.

“No,” he murmured, voice low. “I’m just debating whether I should take you home right now or make you suffer first.”

Your stomach dropped.

You watched him, heart pounding.

George sighed dramatically, slipping the lace into his suit pocket like it was just another accessory. Then, as if nothing happened, he picked up his wine glass and took a slow, deliberate sip.

The way his jaw clenched as he swallowed. The way his fingers tapped against the table—controlled, measured. The way he refused to break eye contact.

Then—so suddenly you almost gasped—he leaned forward, his voice silky smooth.

“Tell me something, darling,” he murmured, tilting his head. “Are you currently sitting there, at this table, with nothing under that pretty little dress?”

You swallowed. “Yes.”

George grinned.

Not his usual, charming smile.

This was something else.

Something dangerous.

“Good girl.”

Your breath hitched.

George hummed, pleased with your reaction. He reached for his drink again, bringing it to his lips before pausing—his smirk deepening.

Then—so casually it ruined you—he whispered, “Spread your legs.”

Your eyes widened. “George—”

“Shh.” He took a slow sip of wine, eyes twinkling with pure amusement. “You wanted to play, love. Now be a good girl and listen.”

Heat flooded your body.

You hesitated for half a second too long.

George raised a brow. “I’m waiting.”

Your breath came in short, uneven bursts as you obeyed, shifting slightly in your seat, thighs parting under the table.

George’s smirk turned positively wicked.

“Such a good girl.”

Your entire body shuddered.

He leaned back, completely unbothered, pretending to scan the menu.

Meanwhile, you were a mess. Your skin burned. Your pulse raced. Your thighs trembled because holy shit—he wasn’t even touching you, and yet, you were completely at his mercy.

Then—just to ruin you—George tilted his head, voice smooth as silk.

“You know,” he mused, “I was planning on taking my time with you tonight.”

You clenched your fists in your lap.

He grinned. “But now?”

He placed his menu down.

“Now, I think I’ll take you home and remind you exactly who’s in charge.”

Your breath hitched.

George chuckled, reaching for his drink once more.

Then, with a wink, he murmured,

“Finish your wine, darling. You’re going to need it.”

END

hshshshsh idk why but my drafts keep posting themselves?? Like, I’m literally just editing them then it suddenly posted?!? And if not that, sometimes my drafts just disappear :( like wtf?? hshshshs its soooo annoying.

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