#sebmick

[xostarrynightt]

F1 x The Unsent Project

[aaltilis]

George: Remember when I said that Mick and I are going to have calm night, just young boys doing team bonding?

Lewis: Yeah..

George: Well, can you help us now?

George: We're in jail.

Lewis: What?

George: And please don't tell Toto.

George: Oh and Mick also said please don't tell Seb.

[milflewis]

Q: At the driver parade you drove around with Sebastian, how did that happen?

MS: I didn’t want to drive around by myself […] so we borrowed a car for a second.

race of champions 2023 / unknown tumblr textpost / race of champions 2023 / transcript of mick’s interview at the silverstone gp 2022 / tweet from abu dhabi gp 2022 / headless john the baptist hitchhiking by c t salazar / transcript of seb after the miami gp 2022 / brazilian gp 2022 / road music by richard silken / race of champions 2019

[blorbocedes]

why... why would they title it like a student/teacher omegaverse fic 😭😭😭

[beechersnope]

Summer of Cum Days 4/5/6: come inflation, facial, coming in public

seb/mick with a bonus dash of foot/pantyhose/pregnancy kink, 1118 words

***

Seb is so fucking weird about trains.

Mick secretly hates them. Finds them claustrophobic and slow. An impatient itch has wormed its way under his skin since they sat down in their car. Having Seb sitting across from him only makes it worse.

“Why are you wearing that?” he asks her once the novelty of watching the countryside fly by out the window finally wears off. It hasn’t taken long; Mick has been half-distracted by the peek of skin between the top two buttons of Seb's cream-colored blouse.

There’s nothing inherently obscene about the outfit as a whole—the pastoral scene depicted on Seb’s wool cardigan is almost childishly innocent, and the flowy skirt adorning her lower half extends several centimeters past her knees.

Seb shrugs. She leans back against the seat, the blouse drawing tighter over the swell of her breasts. “Paying homage to our shared cultural heritage, of course. You don’t like the design?” She reaches down to examine the milkmaid sewn over the pocket on her lefthand side.

“That’s not what I mean,” Mick replies, his mouth suddenly going very dry.

The blouse is almost see-through whenever she pulls it close against herself. It’s not overtly noticeable unless you know what to look for, but Seb has been picking and pulling at the fabric since the second they got on the train, as though trying to find exactly the right angle to reveal the dark shadow of her nipples. Seb almost always goes braless.

“No?” Seb replies, still playing innocent. “You’re right, it is a bit stuffy in here.” She reaches down, undoing the next two buttons on her blouse, letting the front hang open until all Mick can see is the slight curve of her small, flat tits every time she moves.

“Seb,” Mick pleads in a quiet tone.

If he’s being honest with himself, he’s been half-hard since the station, maybe even longer. Seb had kept a warm hand on the curve of his inner thigh on the car ride over, and Mick had done a good job of keeping himself under control then, with the driver right there in the front seat, but now he didn’t have that buffer anymore. It didn’t matter that they were on a public train and that theoretically, anyone could walk in on them. He can’t take it anymore.

Mick reaches down to palm at the swell of his erection through his jeans, whimpering at the pressure—too much, not enough.

Seb tsks. But she doesn’t tell him to stop. “Pull your cock out,” she says instead.

Mick almost swallows his tongue. “Right here?”

“No one can see you. Just me. And do you really want to show up in front of a bunch of cameras with a stiffy in your jeans? Come on, Mick, I’ll take care of you.”

Mick’s hands shake as he unhooks the button on his waistband. He breathes out a quiet sigh of relief as his dick is freed from the restrictive confines of his jeans, but that relief is quickly outweighed by the nearly painful throb of his dick as even more blood rushes downward between his legs. He only gets like this with Seb, so hard it actually hurts.

“Pull your jeans down a little,” Seb says next. “I want to see your balls, too.”

Mick immediately obeys. He keeps the pubic hair above his cock trimmed short, knows Seb likes the way it looks, but he shaves his balls completely smooth, because he knows she likes that, too, the way they feel smooth and velvety against her tongue, inside her mouth. They’re already drawn up tight against his body, and it takes a bit of finagling to get his jeans down far enough to give Seb a full and unobstructed view of his package.

Seb gives a little hum of satisfaction once Mick’s cock and balls are fully in view, but it cuts short once he wraps a hand around his cock. “No,” she says, and that’s all it takes for him to let go. She doesn’t say anything else as she bends down to unlace one of her brown leather boots, and Mick just watches, silent and wide-eyed, waiting.

Seb has nude-colored pantyhose on underneath her skirt. She gives her toes a wiggle once she kicks off her boot, stretching the digits against the sheer fabric covering her feet for a second before extending her leg across the space between her seat and Mick’s. The car is small enough that she doesn’t have to fully straighten her knee to reach the apex of Mick’s thighs with the sole of her foot.

“My pussy’s so wet for you,” she tells him as she drags her toes up the length of his cock, pressing firmly with her foot and grinding his cock against his belly when she reaches the head. “Your cock’s so pretty; I love it. Love your little pink balls, how wet you get for me.”

Mick lets out an abortive whine as his cock spurts out what feels like an entire pint of precum, the slick liquid dripping down his shaft, soaking into the fabric of Seb’s pantyhose, easing the friction against his dick with every stroke. He can barely remember how to breathe.

“Wish I could ride you like this, let you fuck my ass and come inside,” Seb continues. “Want you to fill me up. You always come so hard, I bet if I plugged myself up after I’d look pregnant.”

Mick’s vision starts to blur.

“You want that?” Seb taunts as her foot strokes him even faster. “Want the journos taking photos of me big and round with just your come?”

That’s what does it, the thought of Seb’s taut stomach swollen because of him tipping Mick over the edge before he even realizes it’s happening. His whole body feels painfully tight, like the come is being dragged out of every part of him, and maybe it is—he’s shooting for what feels like entire minutes, in hot splashes against Seb’s foot, Mick’s black hoodie, his own face.

Mick shudders through it with Seb continuing to milk him from the base of his cock to the head with the flex of her foot, draining every last bit of come until it finally slows to a pathetic dribble that slides back down his shaft and soaks into his pubes. He tips his head back against the seat when it’s over and draws in a long, rattling breath.

“Still got an hour left before we get to the station,” Seb says casually as she flicks some of the come dripping off her toes back onto Mick’s already ruined hoodie. “Think you can get it up again?”

[usersewis]

2022/2023

[rosyjuly]

Sebastian Vettel and Mick Schumacher at the Race of Champions 2023. Photo by Jean Francois Galeron

[river-ocean]

riccussell aaaaand sebmick

riccussell: doesn't make sense/compels me. i just feel like buttoned-up george and laid-back daniel (and also of course THEE trans george fic of all time...you know...the one that changed my life 💖)

sebmick: makes sense/doesn't compel me. i can understand it!!! i can!!! maybe it is my desire to put seb with lewis or mark or nico but...

[ferrarihamilton]

dragons!!

WHEN I WRITE THIS ONE IT'S ALL OVER FOR YOU BITCHES. seb+mick, in a universe where instead of driving cars, they ride dragons.

The first dragon Mick rides is his dad’s.

He’s too young to remember it, but he’s seen enough photos of the moment to recreate the sensation in his head: his dad, firm and solid behind him; his baby cheeks bundled against the wind, small, gummy hands on the leather reins; He’d spent some time with Victoria afterwards too, when he was older, and he knows that she would have been gentle, careful.

He doesn’t remember the exact nuance of the moment, but he remembers enough that he knows he was meant to ride. That he’s wanted little else since.

The second dragon Mick rides is Sebastian’s.

+++++

After the announcement, Mick goes over to Switzerland. He lets himself through Sebastian’s gate quietly, but instead of winding up the long path to the house, he veers right, into the hangar.

Mercury raises her head when she hears him approach.

“Hello sweetheart,” he says to her, gently stroking her nose. She pushes into his touch for a moment, before settling back down into sleep. A little further down, he can see Chrysos and Lux curled around one another, and if he listens carefully, he can hear the faint rumbling of the others playing outside.

Mick didn't know this until he was older, but Sebastian's hangar is somewhat of a novelty in F1, so much that Architectural Digest did a profile on it a few years ago. Its vast structure feels more like a concert hall than anything else, with an opening out to the fields of the rest of the property. Inside, there's stone ledges and soft grass and hay, meticulously kept.

Not all the teams let you keep your dragon, and even when they do, some drivers choose not to. The drivers that do put them in huge enclosures, pay people millions of dollars to look after them.

Sebastian, who names and keeps all his dragons, takes care of them like his own. Mick's father had done the same, and Mick hadn't known any other way.

“She likes you,” Seb says, from behind him.

Mick doesn’t look up, continues stroking Mercury's nose, the fine, shimmery scales, softer than you think they’d be. Mick’s always had a soft spot for her: the second dragon he rode, steadied by Sebastian, then younger than Mick is now. Sebastian’s first dragon that he could call well and truly his, when he was at Toro Rosso. Mick might have been too young to remember that first time, but he was ten the second time.

He remembers it.

Why didn’t you tell me, he wants to ask. I understand telling the world like this, but me?

“I’ve made lunch," Seb says, half-turning towards the house. "Join me?"

As if it was ever a question. Mick follows him.

+++++

Of course, Mick doesn’t know at the time that Abu Dhabi will be the last race for him too.

He doesn’t even get to keep Aquilae afterwards. The goodbye hurts, but not as much as the knowledge that there will be another rider on her next season, another bond to override the one they had.

[aaltilis]

Charles: Seb, before you say no-

Sebastian: No.

Mick: But you haven't heard it yet.

Sebastian: I'm sticking with no.

[milflewis]

they’re lesbians your honour

[youjustwaitsunshine]

photographers arent posting sebmick photos because every time they try to upload them their electronic devices overheat and die because machines are not equipped to process the amount of love

[blorbocedes]

Blorbie did you know the seb/mark age gap and the seb/mick age gap are the same 😊 there’s something questionable to be discussed in there for sure 😊😊😊

for sure! unfortunately seb/mark does nothing for me. in fact you could place the world's saddest Great Dane dog driving in that second redbull in place of mark webbah and I would not know the difference !

[everybodyisasebfan]

Sometimes you just gotta listen to old songs and feel things™

[rosyjuly]

"re-joining the class after a few stolen minutes behind the bleachers" - vibes. photos by Action Press

[antimonyandthyme]

sebmick vampire au in which

Seb’s a professor at the university and when he comes in for his lecture there’s always this lad standing politely outside the hall wouldn’t take a step in looks so shy doesn’t really make eye contact and Seb jokes, “Do you need me to invite you in?”

And the lad swallows, stares at the ground and nods.

And Seb, bemused, goes “Alright then, come on in.”

And the lad bolts into class takes a seat and listens to everything Seb says with the most attentive of faces. His essays are Seb’s favourites. His practical sums are so neatly done Seb imagines he could line them up with a ruler. There’s no reason why anyone would put this much effort into GEOG 101. Maybe the lad just wants a really good grade. Maybe the lad wants to impress him—don’t go there, he tells himself.

Still, Seb saves Mick’s essays for last. Almost a treat, the last paper he marks before he goes to bed.

Every Monday Wednesday and Friday finds Mick standing outside his lecture hall. And every time, Seb beckons him in. “You’re welcome here,” or “Come on,” or “I’m inviting you in.”

By the end of the semester Seb’s so invested in this kid but it’s nothing beyond professional, of course. Nothing to do with Mick’s soft voice during office hours, asking Seb questions Seb’s pretty sure he already knows the answer to, or how Mick’s hair looks so soft to the touch, or how his skin almost glistens in warm light. By the end of the semester Seb resolves to encourage Mick to step into a lecture hall without coaxing. Reasons it’s for Mick’s good, building some confidence in himself. It wouldn’t do for Mick to miss classes if a Professor wouldn’t invite him in, would it?

“Come on,” Seb says, even though Mick’s panicked eyes are a little unsettling. “You can do it.”

“No,” Mick says tightly. “I can’t.”

Everyone’s different. Everyone’s got their own hang ups and fears. This is a strange one, walking into spaces without an invitation, but Seb’s not one to judge. “I know you can,” Seb says cheerfully.

Mick shakes his head, terrified.

Seb smiles, tries to ease Mick with some gentle ribbing. “You’re not a vampire, Mick, you don’t need permission to exist. Come on. It’s easy.”

Mick stares. Seb watches as his jaw clenches. As something age-old passes across his face and as he braces himself and steps into the lecture hall.

“There we are,” Seb exclaims. “That wasn’t so hard now, was it?”

Mick doesn’t respond. It takes Seb a moment to realize why—

Twin trails of blood, leaking from his nose. His skin has turned from gold to grey. His breath coming out in staccato bursts, his eyes squeezed shut in pain. Mick drops to his knees, clutching his chest. The air passing through his mouth rattles from the liquid gathering in his lungs—

“You’re welcome here,” Seb shouts. “I invite you in. You have my permission. Mick—look at me.” The boy does, Icarus gazing at the sky. “You’re welcome here. Dammnit, listen to me, please.” Seb dabs wildly at Mick’s sluggishly bleeding nose with his own sleeve. “I’ve been cruel. Forgive me. You’re welcome here.”

Mick eventually stops shaking in Seb’s arms. The long, slanted glass windows of the lecture hall announce the arrival of dusk. It’s a good time for secrets. Seb presses a kiss into Mick’s forehead.

There. Now they both have one.