#switching drivers if they can both drive

[bridaltrain]

a roadtrip is sex

[nerdie-faerie]

Just when I think the day's going well, I crash a golf cart

[landoughnut]

Simply Lovely - MV1

masterlist - request - patreon

pairing: max verstappen x ferrari driver!fem!reader

summary: the power couple of the grid dominating the season

w/c & a/n: smau | I keep changing my format

yourusername

liked by maxverstappen1, scuderiaferrari, f1, charles_leclerc, and 4,197,027 others yourusername exciting pole for the 1st race this season!! ❤️🏎️

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user1 LETS GOO FORZA FERRARI ♥︎ by author

redbullracing how about racing for us next year 🙌

scuderiaferrari how about no ❤️

yourusername redbullracing I think I'd like to keep the blue and red duo 🫶🏻

maxverstappen1 yourusername we do make a pretty color together don't we 😉 ♥︎ by author

yourusername maxverstappen1 I see the pick up line vision but your execution was embarrassing

user2 yourusername STAY AT FERRARI PLEASE YOU'RE THE TIFOSI'S ONLY HOPE ♥︎ by author

charles_leclerc user2 ...🧍🏻‍♂️

maxverstappen1 I'm so proud of you mijn liefje 💙

yourusername thank you my love ❤️

charles_leclerc CONGRATS 🎉 🏆 ♥︎ by author

yourusername grazie mio amico❤️‍🔥 good race 🫡

lando fire drive mate 🔥 ♥︎ by author

yourusername THANKS LANN

maxverstappen1 first is always best, but if getting second place means seeing you in first then we're both winners

yourusername omg I'm tearing up that is so sweet 🥹 I love you so so much

maxvertstappen1 yourusername I love you more mijn kampioen 💙

user3 maxverstappen1 STOPPP THAT'S SO CUTE

user4 that's like the highest compliment max could give

alexandrasaintmleux insane drive today! 💋

yourusername love you alex 😘

scuderiaferrari BRAVOOOOO yourusername 🙌🤩 ♥︎ by author

redbullracing ^^^ ♥︎ by author

scuderiaferrari redbullracing buddy thinks compliments will get her to switch teams 😂

redbullracing scuderiaferrari it's always worth a try 🤷🏼‍♂️

user5 the way ferrari and red bull put their rivalry aside and both support max and y/n is the cutest thing ♥︎ by author

maxverstappen1 user5 the only difference is, is that ferrari supports me cause I'm dating her, red bull supports her cause she's good 😸

user6 maxverstappen1 so basically in shorter terms, you're her wag 🙂‍↕️

maxverstappen1 user6 and proud of it 🧎‍♂️♥︎ by author

yourusername

liked by maxverstappen1, redbullracing, scuderiaferrari, charles_leclerc, lando, and 4,197,027 others yourusername AND THATS POLE POSITION 🏆❤️ maxverstappen1

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user7 YESSSSSSS QUEEN 👸

user8 PODIUM POWER COUPLE 😍

francolapinto 🙌❤️🔥

maxverstappen1 I'm watching you... 😑

maxverstappen1 gefeliciteerd mijn lieverd! ik houd van je 😻🥇 ♥︎ by author

yourusername I LOVE YOU MORE

maxverstappen1 how do you look so beautiful getting covered in champagne? ♥︎ by author

lando yourusername I saw him almost slip because he kept staring it you ♥︎ by author

user9 max caught in 4k 📸

yourusername lando it's alright I like to ogle him too 🥰

maxverstappen1 yourusername 😘 ♥︎ by author

user10 imagine both being such good drivers that you can make heart eyes at each other on podium after each race 🥲

user11 user10 relationship goals

lando yourusername max told me not to say but I saw his eyes watering during the national anthem

yourusername maxverstappen1 all good tears I hope

maxverstappen yourusername happy tears for you 💙 lando big mouth 🖕 ♥︎ by author

lando maxverstappen1 HEY

lilymhe CONGRATULATIONS MY WIFE ♥︎ by author

yourusername THANK YOU SM LILY BABE ILY 💍

alex_albon .....

maxverstappen1 ........

user12 AND THATS ON GIRL POWER 🎀 ♥︎ by author

scuderiaferrari LETS GOOOOOO 🙌❤️‍🔥 ♥︎ by author

user13 QUEEN OF FERRARI 🤭

user14 the tifosi's savior 🙏

charles_leclerc .............

user14 charles_leclerc did you will 13/24 races last year and the first two races of this season??

charles_leclerc user14 🧍🏻‍♂️

yourusername charles_leclerc LMAOAOAOAO YOU GOT HUMBLED AF

user15 awhh the pic of her and max driving next to each other 🫠

redbullracing congrats yourusername!! you know what they say, blue is the color of success! ♥︎ by author

scuderiaferrari literally no one says that ♥︎ by author

mclaren some people say papaya brings luck 😁 ♥︎ by author

redbullracing mclaren leave

scuderiaferrari mclaren leave

mclaren I guess I'll see myself out then..... 😪

maxverstappen1 why don't the teams fight over me like this 🥺

user16 maxverstappen1 cause your girlfriend is just better 🥺 ♥︎ by author

maxverstappen1 user16 alright valid ♥︎ by author

maxverstappen1

liked by yourusername, redbullracing, f1, lando, carlossainz55, and 4,197,027 others maxverstappen1 simply lovely drive tonight 🏆 yourusername

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yourusername THAT'S MY BOYFRIENDDDDD ♥︎ by author

maxverstappen1 😘💙

yourusername YOU LOOKED SO HOT NEXT TO ME ON PODIUM 😩 ♥︎ by author

maxverstappen1 and you'll so hot next to me in bed later

lando EW YOU HORNDOGS GET A ROOM 🤢

danialricciardo lando imagine what I had to deal with from him, actually I still do deal with it

maxverstappen1 lando don't worry we plan to 😉

yourusername maxverstappen1 leave him alone he's like 10 😭

lando yourusername EXCUSE ME??

yourusername lando you're excused ♥︎ by author

lando yourusername IM 25

user17 lando no ones listening anymore lil bro ♥︎ by author

scuderiaferrari 🥶 ♥︎ by author

user18 BROO THE WAY HE RAN TO KISS HER AFTER THE BOTH FINISHED THE RACE 🥹

oscarpiastri congrats 👍 ♥︎ by author

yourusername dude you text like my dad 😭 do you know other emoji's exist

lando yourusername he's pregnant so he's just practicing

maxverstappen1 lando 🫢🫄

user19 UGHH THEY LOOKED SO FINE TOGETHER ON PODIUM

lewishamilton 💪 ♥︎ by author

user20 max's radio message being him dedicated this win to her had me getting emotional

user21 REALLLL

user22 he does this every win yet every time it gets me

yourusername I'm so so proud of you 💞 ♥︎ by author

alphinef1team pink for alpine⁉️⁉️

scuderiaferrari alphinef1team leave ♥︎ by author

redbullracing alphinef1team leave ♥︎ by author

maxverstappen1 yourusername thank you, mijn liefde, you're my greatest trophy 💙

[fairyofshampgyu]

☆ Drive you mad !

genre: racer au, smut, e2l, rivals , crack

Pairings: sub ! race car driver ! beomgyu x dom ! gn race car driver reader (afab when comes to smut)

Warnings: kinda public sex, bratty beomgyu, sub beomgyu, grinding/palming, edging, creampie, riding, hand job, degrading, sex in a car, clubbing, alcohol, hair pulling, tit sucking, use of names ‘good boy’, ‘whore’

Word count: 4.7k

The engine roars in your ears as you bolt across the finish line, your car skidding and screeching to a halt. The cheers and claps of the crowd rise to an almost deafening crescendo, and you grip the steering wheel tight with furrowed brows, being able to feel how sweaty your forehead had become, adrenaline still surging through your veins as you pant heavily. A quick glance at the leaderboard tells you the result:

Second. Fucking. Place.

You grit your teeth, rather aggressively slamming the door shut, and getting out of the car. Yanking off your helmet, you storm over to where Kang Taehyun, your ever-calm, teammate, was leaning casually against the pit wall, sipping on his water bottle from the last round he had just raced himself. You on the other hand, are seconds away from combusting.

“Fuck him.” You seethe and grumble, arms crossed as both of your gazes switch to focus on Choi Beomgyu in the centre, soaking up the spotlight a few metres away, gesturing animatedly for the cameras with sparkling eyes, a stupid smirk and very satisifed look on his face as he tucked his helmet under one arm. He’s surrounded and swarmed by reporters with god knows how many microphones shoved in his face who hang onto his every single word like he was some goddamn deity.

He basks in it, always loved the attention. You wouldn’t be surprised if he tried to win every race solely for the purpose of being met with cameras and praises at the end. It’s like he got off on that shit. Attention seeker.

“What a fucking nepo baby.” You scoff and taehyun laughs, always amused for your hate towards Choi Beomgyu. But it was true, he was only here because his father was a famous legendary racer back in the day, his racing career practically gift wrapped by him at a young age. Choi Beomgyu had everything handed to him on a silver platter whilst you had to claw your way through to get where you are now. But, it seems to be that you’re the only one who has a problem with him. Everyone else adores him, the 'golden boy'.

“Oh—hehe. Stop it. Thank you! Yeah, honestly it’s all about hard work.” You hear him gush and chuckle in faux shyness and humbleness, waving his hand dismissively, eyes shaped into little crescent moons and running a hand through his long soft brown hair. “But I don’t think I’m that good personally heh.”

You can’t help how hard your eyes roll at that, muttering more insults under your breath only taehyun can hear who's certainly more than entertained. “Hardwork, my ass. His daddy got him connections and sponsorships, that’s why. He thinks he can just waltz in with that stupid smile and—oh my god, he’s winking at me. I’m going to fucking kill him.”

Sure enough, Beomgyu catches your eye roll and winks your way before saying something to the reporters that makes them hysterically laugh. The audacity. You have half the mind of walking over there and strangling him right in front of the cameras. That surely wouldn’t end your career right? Or worse yet, put you in prison.

As the crowd around him finally disperses and fizzles out, Beomgyu confidently saunters over to you and taehyun, helmet still tucked under his arm and still grinning annoyingly.

“Oh no.” Taehyun chuckles, throwing a knowing look your way and nodding to the direction of beomgyu, “Incoming.”

“Fuck my life.” You mutter, taking a big breath in, bracing yourself for the worst.

“Well, well, well, if it isn’t my favourite fan.” Beomgyu’s grin widens as he reaches you, snickering. He ignores your scoff in return, turning to taehyun instead with a smile and clapping his back. “Hey, Tae. Drinks after this? A bunch of us are going.”

“Yeah, I’m in. Congrats on first place today by the way.” Taehyun replies giving him a bro hug. To this day, you still can’t understand how taehyun can stand him. But Beomgyu has a lot of friends, and like you said, you really are the only one who dislikes him.

“How can you even hang out with him?” You make the most disgusted face you can muster towards Beomgyu to show the pure utter hatred you feel to him.

Beomgyu practically puffs out his chest, already expecting to be backed up and stood up against by taehyun.

Taehyun shrugs, “He grows on you. I guess.”

“Yeah, like a nasty mould.”

Beomgyu deflates, taking great offence, mouth hanging open and frowning, pouting at the both of you now laughing and high-fiving each other.

Beomgyu’s intense gaze then returns back to you. Taehyun, addressing the situation, and knowing how both your bantering can escalate, sees it’s best to leave, walking away to leave you alone with the cockroach. “Right, so as entertaining as this has been, I’m going to go now…preferably anywhere else...”

“What about you, y/n? No congratulations?” Beomgyu mocks and sighs boastfully once Taehyun has left. His voice dripping with that sickeningly playful lilt that always makes your blood boil. “No heartfelt speech on how I inspire you to be better? But hey, second place isn’t so bad.”

You narrow your eyes, standing up straight. “You won by, like,” you scoff, “a millisecond at best. Don’t get all cocky. It was just pure luck.”

He laughs, raising an eyebrow at you. “Oh, come on, I didn’t think you were such a sore loser. It’s called strategy.”

“Strategy?” you repeat incredulously, “The only strategy you have is relying on your last name to get you ahead.”

“God, you’re still on that? I feel like you’re just using that as an excuse to use still. Just admit I’m as good as you. Better, even. I’ve won one more race than you now~”

The two of you kept a tally of how many races you both have won, you’ve had the same exact score as him for ages now, obviously, not anymore. But you’ll win next time, just he waits.

He takes a step closer to you, waiting and expecting you to make a snarky comeback at him like you always do as you angrily stare him down and he does the same.

For a second, just one second, your eyes flicker down to his lips and suddenly, you’re brought back to an incident that occurred a few months ago. A memory you’ve tried—and failed—to forget.

There is one thing you’ve never told anyone about. Not your teammates, not taehyun, and that is when you, of all people, made out with Choi Beomgyu one awfully unlucky night.

⸝⸝

THE SAID AWFULLY UNLUCKY NIGHT YOU AND CHOI BEOMGYU MADE OUT:

The nightclub was packed with racers, sponsors, and fans celebrating the after party of a big end of season race, air heavy with the scent of alcohol and sweat. You nursed your drink, leaning against the bar.

Of course, Beomgyu was at the centre of the dance floor, surrounded by a group of admirers, his laughter ringing out over the music. He was never hard to spot, the centre of attention always.

"Ugh," you muttered under your breath, taking another sip of your drink.

“And you’re still staring?” Taehyun had teased, sitting beside you.

"I’m not staring.” You snapped, rolling your eyes. "I’m wondering how he manages to be so insufferable and stupid all the time."

“Sure,” Taehyun stifles a laugh, raising his glass to you. “Just don’t kill each other before the next race.”

You down the last of your drink, slamming it on the bar counter and ordering another, “Can’t promise that.”

The rest of the night is a blur to you. Too many drinks, too many spinning lights, and far too much proximity to Beomgyu.

You’re not one to get shitfaced drunk. You prefer the comfortable state of slight tipsiness and anything other than that is not fun for you, because why would someone want to be so drunk off their ass to the point of throwing up and not being aware of their surroundings? Usually, you’d chastise people like that, wondering how they can’t even manage how much they drink. But on that night, you’d had one too many to count, you were drunk, too drunk. Not the comfortable tipsiness that you’re used to.

You know that at one point, either you or Beomgyu had come up to the other and the normal bickering had ensued. You know he was just as drunk as you so whatever you both were arguing about probably made no sense at all.

What you do remember though was looking at him, really looking at him, in the shifting, almost epileptic lights of the club.

How big and brown his eyes were, how long and thick his eyelashes were and how they fluttered like a doll every time he blinked. How plump and pouty his lips were, especially now that he was drunk, he just kept on pouting his lips and his cheeks were flushed all rosy from all the alcohol he’d had. His long wolfcut was messy by now, bangs falling into his eyes.

He looked different that night, too. Not the usual racing suit and helmet, but a stylish black suit with his shirt unbuttoned just enough to reveal a silver necklace glinting against his skin.

All in all, beomgyu was a pretty boy. You get why he had a lot of fans.

He was still going on about something to you, slurring his words, probably insulting you, and the only logical solution to shut him up in your inebriated state at that moment, was to kiss his pouty lips. Luckily, you both were at the very corner of the nightclub shrouded in darkness, everyone else too busy dancing and whatnot to see you both.

You remember him gasping when you grabbed the collar of his black shirt, yanking him down and pressing your lips aggressively against his, but he kissed you back almost instantly, without a second thought.

You weren’t very gentle with him, pushing him forcefully against the wall even further and tugging at his necklace. The way you were making out with him was just pouring out all your anger you’ve felt towards him for years. But, he just let you. He let you do anything to him and you were surprised, so different to the cocky and confident beomgyu you knew. And that sheer control he let you have over him for once felt so good, you didn’t want to stop.

That, and the fact Choi Beomgyu was also just really good at kissing, he made it so difficult to pull away at all, lips so soft and plump and addictive, making you want more and more and more.

But, you never spoke an utterance of it afterwards, he never brought it up, neither did you. And honestly, it felt so surreal, making out with the Choi Beomgyu, the one who you no doubtedly hate his guts and him kissing you back so pliantly? You’d believe it more if it was all just a hallucination. You were so drunk you wouldn’t be surprised if you made it all up, dreamt it even. Maybe it was someone else you made out with and you were so drunk you can’t remember. It’d make more sense than Choi Beomgyu.

Although, you do find yourself thinking about the makeout session often times than not, his lips on yours just felt so good. Too good. It was like, the best makeout you’ve had in your life and you curse it for being him. Why he had to be the one whose lips you still thought about? you don’t know. You’re certain he had forgotten and you wish you could have just like he seemed to.

But anyway, fuck that and fuck him.

⸝⸝

"What? Cat got your tongue?" Beomgyu is still sneering at you, awaiting your comeback but you can’t think well at the moment.

Your face heats, and you shove past him. “Go to hell, Choi.”

And his laughter follows behind you as you walk away. Oh, how he infuriates you.

You have one goal: beat Choi Beomgyu. Today is the day you finally get to race against him again. He’d held that last victory over your head, taunting you endlessly, with that invigorating, stupid smirk of his and you’d had more than enough. Today was your chance to shut him up and kick his ass. You’ll put him in his place and win. You’d been waiting for this.

“Ladies and gentlemen, welcome to another thrilling showdown! All eyes are on the two front runners y/n and Choi Beomgyu. These rivals have been neck and neck all season. Beomgyu won the last race but will he win again? Will today decide who’s truly on top?” The commentator’s voices boom over the loudspeakers.

The flagman waves the green flag, you slam on the gas pedal and you’re off, surging forward.

It wasn’t an easy race, beomgyu seemed motivated to win too. He was always either just ahead or just behind, not far enough for it be satisfactory, but nail bitingly tense, as anything could happen any moment. And right now, ahead, just barely, was him, blocking every attempt you made to overtake him.

“Y/n’s looking for an opening,” the commentators shout. “But Beomgyu’s defensive driving is flawless so far. Look at that precision!”

Loud noises of the engines are all you can hear, filling your ears as you manoeuvre around sharp turns, tires screeching against the asphalt. The laps all blur together but you’re nearing the end now.

You managed to get alongside him on the straight, your cars almost touching, crowd going wild as you both enter the next corner side by side, dangerously close.

“Neither driving is moving an inch!”

Suddenly, beomgyu’s car swerves towards yours, bumping and hitting at yours with such force, a dirty, blatant attempt at running you off the track and then he overtakes you. You gasp, fighting to stabilise your car, narrowly avoiding a spin. That was a new low, even for Choi Beomgyu. He’d never cheated like that before and you’re absolutely enraged.

The final lap is chaos, the audience on their feet now. You’re so incredibly angry, but you can’t let that get to you and hinder your focus, you clench your teeth, gripping your steering wheel so tight your knuckles are white, you’re even more determined to win than before.

The last stretch looms ahead and he’s just razor thin ahead of you, in the last second, you see your opening. Beomgyu had oversteered slightly on the turn, just enough for you to slip past him, you speed ahead.

“AND Y/N TAKES THE WIN IN A SPECTACULAR FINISH! THEY’VE DONE IT! WHAT A RACE!”

You crossed the line first. By a hair.

Everyone erupts, but your satisfaction is short-lived. Beomgyu’s cheating had completely soured your victory. The fucking nerve of him.

You barely register the reporters swarming you, bombarding your face with microphones. “Y/n! how does it feel to take first place?!”

“An incredible performance today, what was going through your mind?!”

The post race interview is a haze of forced smiles and generic answers. You’re barely listening as the reporters barrage you with questions. You’re still so pissed off at Beomgyu.

When it’s finally over, you make your way to the garage and that’s where you spot him leaning casually against his car, arms crossed in a nonchalant way. You clench your fists, blood boiling as you storm over to him. He’d crossed the line, well, not literally this time, but definitely fucking figuratively.

"You fucking cheated!" You shout, jabbing a finger at his chest.

He blinks innocently, tilting his head in a puppy like way. "Me? Cheat? That’s a very serious accusation to make. I’d never." There’s a slight smugness to him, almost mocking, he’s not even pissed he didn’t win like you’d wanted him to be, just calm and collected and being a bitch. It makes you even more livid with him.

“You intentionally tried to cause a collision with me. You should have been penalised. I don’t know how you weren’t!”

“Yeah, and you still won. So why are you even mad?” He crosses his arms and shrugs, looking down at you with a contemptuous grin, ridiculing you. “If you can’t handle what happens on the race, maybe you should switch to something lighter like bumper cars instead.”

"Can’t handle?!" You splutter, looking at him in pure disbelief, your voice rising. "You arrogant, nepotistic, spoilt brat!-” Each insult punctuated with a sharp poke to his chest and, yet he still finds it all funny, bursting out into laughter at you.

Something inside you just snaps. It infuriates you how you’re the one who won and yet, you feel small. Why is he the one sneering at you? That should be you! You want to have the upper hand over him, some semblance of control— just like that night again when he was putty in your hands.

And so, before you can even register what you yourself are about to do, you grab him by his jacket, smashing your lips against his. He melts almost instantly, kissing you back so fervently and eagerly, as if he’d been waiting this whole time for this to happen. And you can’t lie, it felt almost euphoric to have his soft lips back on yours again. Almost like an addict getting their fix after a long withdrawal.

The kissing becomes heated fast, sounds of your mouths smacking filling the echoing garage as he lets you take over his mouth completely, letting you bite and pull at his bottom lip, emitting soft little gasps at this.

Even for the second time, it was disorienting seeing Beomgyu like this, nothing like the beomgyu you knew on the track or in the spotlight, and now with no alcohol in your system, neither of you could even blame whatever was going on right now on that. It’s all too intoxicating. It takes everything in you to pull back for air.

You push him against his car with more force than necessary, and Beomgyu stumbles slightly before sitting down on the top of the hood. His eyes are blown wide, flustered as you stand between his splayed legs, cupping his cheek and kissing him again, him responding immediately. This is how you like him. Your kisses trail down his jaw and the column of his neck, when you suck on his adam’s apple, he lets out a sharp intake and gasp, tilting his head back to give you more access, he already seems worked up from just a few kisses. Was his neck really that sensitive?

When your hand slides down to palm him through his trousers, his breath hitches and his jaw goes slack. “Oh…b-but we’re in public…” his cheeks flush a deep red and he protests weakly, plump lips all swollen and glossy and wet from the intense making out.

You raise a brow. “So you want me to stop?” You keep grinding your palm against his very hard length now, sucking on his neck and he shudders and whines cutely, very clearly enjoying it.

“Wait—ah—no...” So you continue, he’s panting as you palm him, rutting into your hand himself. You pull back just enough to look at him, so dumb and lost in pleasure, lips parted with soft breathy moans and gasps as he chases the small friction you give him, his brows knitting together.

You roll your eyes at the sight of him, “Trying to run me off the track? You’re pathetic, beomgyu.”

“Pathetic?” He scoffs, still having the nerve to act like a brat when it’s all crumbling. “h-hah, if anyone’s pathetic it’s you—s-shit y/n—please. I need more, please.” Completely contradicting himself, because if there was only one word to describe him exactly right now, it would be pathetic.

“Admit it. Say you’re nothing but a dirty cheater first.”

“You wish.”

“Okay. I’ll leave you like this. All hard and horny.”

He hesitates, scowling, debating whether or not to challenge you, but when you stop all contact of palming and kissing his neck, starting to step away, he caves in.

“Wait!” He blurts, grasping at your wrist, eyes wide and pleading. “I’m…fine. Fine! I’m nothing but a dirty cheater...” His face burns, embarrassed, humiliated, his pride hurt. The admission sends a thrill through you, he’s always been so full of himself, but now he’s just a needy pathetic mess for you. You’re having so much fun.

You grin. “Aw. What a good boy.” You coo sarcastically. The words have an instant effect on him though, whole body tensing and cheeks blooming into an even more impossibly vivid red and he whines, hands clutching at your hips to bring you back as he still sits pliantly on the hood of his car.

You unzip his pants, flushed pretty cock already leaking, slapping at his tummy and you brush your thumb over his sensitive tip, spreading the bead of pre-cum that gathered there slowly, watching his reaction and he looks down at the action himself, drawing out a helpless shudder and whimper from him. He groans, eyes half lidded when you wrap your hand around his cock, moving up and down with a deliberate slowness that makes his breath hitch every few seconds and whine.

“God, you’re so easy, beomgyu. Are you this much of a whore all the time?” You murmur and tease, dragging your teeth over his cute earlobe, ears all red, feeling him shiver.

“Shut”, he whimpers cutely, “up. I-i could…ah…fuck you stupid right now.” He retaliates or attempts to, but his hands grip the edge of the hood like he’s barely holding himself upright.

You laugh. “Oh, really? Because you look pretty wrecked already.” He was so fucked out right now, you wonder if he’d even be able to take it when you actually fuck him.

He’s still trying to keep up the pretense of resistance. “I’m not wrecked. You’re—” You pump his cock at a ruthless pace, jerking him off fast, occasionally toying with the slit on the head of cock and his body goes limp under you touch, moaning out prettily and loudly, eyes squeezing shut and panting, chest heaving. He clings to you now, head buried in your neck, practically drooling, body jerking with every stroke. He still attempts to bite back at you but they come out as dumb babbles and mumbles of nonsense, mewling and gasping, completely at your mercy.

Beomgyu whines and moans deliriously. “F-fuck! Oh—need to cum. C-can’t.” He removes his head from your neck to look up at you with glossy doe eyes, so wrecked and hanging on by a thread. You move your hand up and down his dick unrelentingly and before he’s just about to cum, you pull your hand off him.

The pained, frustrated cry that escapes him is deliciously pathetic. His hips jerk into the air desperately to chase the sensation, but it’s long gone now. He looks at you in shock, eyes wide in utter betrayal and devastation, and now wet with tears of frustration. But then he frowns and scowls, annoyed he didn’t get to cum. “What the fuck was that for?” He pouts.

“I could think of a lot honestly. But, don’t you want to cum inside me?”

His jaw hangs open. “Please. Yes.” Beomgyu breathes out, nodding fervently and looking at you with puppy eyes, pupils dilating and dazed at the thought alone.

Sliding off the hood, beomgyu takes your hand like an obedient puppy, and you open the car door. He sits in his driver’s seat, his flushed face tilted up to watch you as you climb onto his lap. You rid yourself of your own clothes, watching as his gaze drops immediately to your bare tits, breath catching and lips parting as he stares, seemingly captivated. He’s so stupid.

You grab his dick and use the head to rub your clit, making him let out little stuttered gasps, sliding him over your entrance and folds a few times before you sink slowly down completely. The feeling of your warm tight pussy making him go cross eyed as he groans, sucking in air and throwing his head back, grasping at your waist, furrowing his brows and mouth in an ‘o’ shape, you beginning to ride him.

It’s so hot and cramped and sweaty in the car now as you bounce on his dick continuously, being able to hear the obscene slapping and sticky noises so loudly. Beomgyu looks in a state of absolute, pure bliss, moaning like a bitch, mind all fogged up and mushy at the feeling of your pussy, his messy damp bangs falling into his eyes so all you can see is his very glistening round lips, still in that sustained ‘o’ shape, just so dumbed and fucked out.

He’s a gorgeous wreck, thick doll-like lashes fluttering. If only everyone else could see Choi Beomgyu like this right now. It feels so empowering and satisfying after all these years of him being so infuriating. You love how, despite his attempts at being bratty, he’s so docile and such a simple whore.

You tangle your hands in his hair and tug and pull every so often, which he clearly very likes if the high and strained moans are anything to show for this. His hands squeeze at your tits when it feels too good for him. His lips latch onto one of your nipples, tongue flicking over it and sucking and kissing as he looks up at you with his big brown eyes. When you deliberately clamp your pussy tightly around him, he moans out your name in response, muffled from him still sucking your tits needily, body slightly jerking.

“You remember, don’t you?—at the club?” You ask, although it was probably obvious by now.

Beomgyu pauses for a moment, popping his wet droolly mouth off your boobs, eyes darting away for a moment before returning to look at you, nodding vigorously, “of course I remember…l-liked it.” You cup his cheek again, kissing beomgyu hard, hands still tangled in his hair, tugging, fucking him mercilessly as he moans softly against your lips. “Oh god, m’ sso close. Can I cum?”

You nod, kissing him some more, “Cum for me, beomie.”

“Holyy s-shitt—” Beomgyu’s eyes roll to the back of his head, squeezing one of your tits as if for support, his back arches, his tongue lolling out dumbly, whole body trembling and shaking. You bring one of your hands to your clit, rubbing and riding yourself on him harder. With a choked off scream, he spills so much of his cum inside you, and the gorgeous sight brings you over the edge too, cumming as well.

He doesn’t pull out though, burying his face in your neck, gasping for air, groaning and clinging to you tightly, he’s still shuddering and you can feel little spurts of his cum still dribbling in you, pussy completely milking him.

The two of you sat in the car still afterwards in a slightly awkward silence. Both of you panting, trying to come down from your highs, left to fully take in what had just happened and also how thoughtless it was. Fucking Choi beomgyu in the garage? You’re incredibly lucky no one walked in. It wasn’t even like both of you were trying to be quiet either, none of that running through your mind at that moment. What if someone had heard?

Beomgyu, for once, was quiet, his usual smirk replaced with a dazed expression, so far gone. He leans slowly towards you though, looking as if he was about to kiss you again.

“This…this doesn’t mean anything by the way.” You mutter, beginning to button up your shirt.

Beomgyu scoffs, running a hands through his hair. “Doesn’t feel like nothing.”

“Yeah, well, it doesn’t. At all.” You roll your eyes, trying not to freak out, you open the car door, wanting more than anything to just get out. You walk away, leaving him there, disheveled and barely clothed, still slumped in the driver’s seat. And you don’t see it, but there’s a look of almost, somewhat hurt on his face.

A/n: happy new year !!<3 please give this lots of love it was such a bitch to write idk why but I really struggled with this 😭 also I’m so sorry to all the racing fans if makes no sense, I just made up my own kind of racing competition thing. Also the cars do not look anything like f1 cars 😭 more kind of like the nascar ones so they can actually fuck in it 😭 idk bro. I know no nothing about cars or racing. Also I’m sorry if the smut seems rushed and messy, I haven’t edited it and I was lowkey rushing to get this out

Please actually reblog !!!!!! and leave comments !!!! guys if you like the fic. It’s really appreciated and so nice tysm !<3🙏💕🌷🌷! It’s incredibly discouraging and disappointing when fics have such little reblogs ☹️👎🤨. At least send an anon in the inbox if you don’t want to rb, don’t just like. Feedback is always appreciated it makes writers want to actually write more :)

[bsturnzmtts]

Hard - Matt Sturniolo

Re uploaded because my account bsturnzmtt got deactivated :( Please follow and let me know if you want to be in my tag list !

Paring: switch! Matt x gf! Reader

Contains/warnings: alcohol, drunk kissing, making out, masturbation, hand job, edging, teasing.

Summary: You and your boyfriend get drunk at a party and he gets needy when you guys get home…

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Matt was always the dominant one in the relationship, especially in bed. He was always the one to manhandle you, to edge you, to overstimulate you, all sorts of things. It has never been the other way around. Until tonight...

You and Matt had gone to one of his friends' parties. You guys danced and drank all night. Since Matt knew he was going to drink he decided for you guys to take an Uber instead of driving. Which is responsible and also good because it means he can leave without his brothers and go to your place afterwards.

You guys are currently in the back of an Uber on your way home, making out very sloppily tasting the alcohol in each other's mouths.

Breaking the kiss for a moment, Matt's hand cups your cheek, his thumb wiping away a trace of lipstick on your lips. His voice slurred but filled with lust “God, you're so fucking sexy, baby.”

The car comes to a stop. “We’re here.” The Uber driver says side eyeing you guys as you make out.

Matt takes out his wallet and pays the driver.

You guys quickly get out of the car and walk towards the door of your house, stumbling a bit because of how drunk you are.

With a smirk, Matt helps you steady yourself as you stumble towards the door. Slurring his words as he fumbles for the keys to your house “Shit, I think we had a little too much to drink.” He says letting out a low chuckle as you stumble against him. “God, I love when you're drunk.” He manages to open the door, and pulls you inside, pressing his lips against yours once more. “You taste like fucking tequila.”

You laugh softly. “I think that’s you.” You slur out as you lean in and kiss him again. After a few seconds you pull out and start going to your room.

As you both stumble towards your room, Matt's hands are all over you, groping your ass, squeezing your sides, anything he can reach. And of course he couldn’t help sneaking in a few kisses along the way. He kicks open the door to your room and pulls you inside, slamming the door shut behind you.

You pull Matt into a kiss while walking to your bed. You both lay down and continue to make out.

He wraps his arms around you, holding you close as you lay on the bed. His kisses are sloppy and drunken, but filled with so much love and need.

You guys keep making out for a few minutes. Getting sloppier and needier. But Matt definitely got a lot more needier, you were so lost in the kiss you didn’t notice when he pulled out his dick and started stroking it.

With a mischievous grin, Matt pulls away from your lips and looks at you with heavy-lidded eyes. “Shit, I’m so hard for you right now.” He says as he strokes himself. “I couldn’t help it.” He says as he moans and whimpers. His strokes are going faster.

You look at him stroking himself, he looks so hot. “Fuck Matt.” You whisper and lean in to kiss his neck. You keep kissing and leaving hickeys on his neck. Your hand moves to Matt’s hand and slowly takes it off his dick and replaces it with yours.

“Oh, fuck yeah.” He groans as you wrap your hand around his hard cock, letting you take control. He leans back on the bed with a pleased sigh. "Don't stop."

You keep stroking, each stroke going faster. Your other hand moves and starts playing his balls.

"Shit, your hands feel so good." He moans, his head tossing back and forth on the pillow. "Don't stop, please don't stop." He begs, his hips moving up to meet your strokes. "Fuck, I'm gonna cum so hard."

“Yeah? You’re close?” You ask with a smirk.

"Oh yeah, I'm so fucking close." He pants heavily, his hips thrusting faster. "Please don't stop, please make me cum." He begs you.

But as soon as he’s about to cum you pull your hands away.

"What the fuck?! Why did you stop?" He says in a needy, almost whiny voice. He raises his hips, looking for your hand again. "Please, don't stop, please make me cum."

“Shhh you gotta be patient.” You say with teasing and lean to kiss him.

He lets out a frustrated whimper as you kiss him, his hands gripping the sheets tightly. He tries to pull your hands back to his dick, but you hold them firm. "Fuck, please," he begs between kisses. "I need to cum so bad."

Your kisses move down to his neck as your fingers tease his tip.

He lets out a loud groan as your lips move down to his neck, sucking and biting gently. "Yes, just like that." he whispers as your fingers tease his sensitive tip.

“You like that?” Your fingers move down to play with his balls.

"Oh fuck yes!" He moans as your fingers play with his balls. His hips buck up and down, trying to get some sort of friction on his dick. His body is covered in a sheen of sweat and his breaths come in ragged gasps.

Your hand finally moves to stroke his dick but they are really slow strokes.

His eyes roll back in his head as your hand finally starts stroking his dick, but the slow pace is torture. He whines and complains, trying to speed up your hand, but you just keep the slow, teasing strokes going. "Please, faster," he begs, his voice strained with need.

You chuckle slightly at his whine and move your hand faster. With your free hand you start rubbing his tip. "Fuck, yes!" Matt moans as your hand speeds up and you start to rub his tip. His body tenses up, muscles clenching as he gets closer and closer to climax.

“Are you close?” You ask speeding up.

"Y-yes, I'm so close! Fuck, I'm gonna cum!" He cries out, his voice loud and desperate. His dick pulses in your hand as he’s about to cum. But you pull away.

He groans in frustration as you pull away, his orgasm just out of reach. "What the fuck?! Why did you stop?!" He pants, looking at you with a mix of frustration and need. "Please, let me cum! I can't take it anymore!"

You chuckle at his reaction and lean in to kiss him. Leaving his dick now turning red with a bit of purple with need.

"Oh fuck, don't tease me like this," He moans against your lips, his hips thrusting up and down in a hopeless attempt to find some relief. “please! Just let me cum!” He begs, his voice cracking with desperation. His dick is now a deep shade of purple and throbbing with need, precum dripping steadily from the tip.

You stop kissing him and your hand wraps around his dick tightly but not moving.

He gasps as you tighten your grip around his dick, the pressure almost too much to bear. "Oh fuck, that's... that's so tight," he groans. His body is flushed and his breath comes in short, desperate pants. He's never been so horny, never so desperate. He bites his lip and whines softly, squirming under your hand.

Your other hand starts rubbing his tip really fast, while your other hand stays still around his length.

"Oh fuck, oh fuck! Fuck!" He cries out, his hips bucking up and down at a frantic pace as he tries to rub his tip against your hand the way he wants to. He's so horny, so desperate for release, and your teasing is driving him wild.

“You like that?” You ask.

"Yes, fuck yes, I love it!" He gasps, his voice filled with pure need and pleasure. "Please, don't stop! I'm so close!" He begs, his body trembling as he tries to find that elusive release.

Your hand around his dick finally starts moving. It stokes him up and down very fast.

"Oh fuck! Fuck! I'm cumming!" He screams, his hips bucking furiously up and down as he unloads with an intense orgasm, pumping his load all over your hand as he trembles with pleasure. His body twitches as he's cums, his cock erupting in a massive, uncontrollable orgasm. Thick ropes of cum shoot out of his tip, coating your hand and arm in his release He moans as he finishes cumming, his body still shaking with the intensity of his orgasm. He's completely spent and flushed with a deep sensation of satisfaction. He look up at you with a lazy but satisfied grin, his eyes shining with happiness. "That was amazing..."

With a smirk you lean in and kiss him.

He melts into the kiss, his lips soft and warm against yours. He's still catching his breath from his orgasm, but he wraps his arms around you, holding you close as he kisses you deeply, his heart still racing from the intensity of his release. He pulls back. “We should get drunk more often,” he says and laughs softly.

“Yeah, we should.” You giggle and then bring your hand to your mouth to lick all his cum.

He watches with wide eyes, his gaze glued to your hand as you lick and suck his cum off of it, his breath catching as he sees the pleasure on your face. “Fuck...” he utters softly.

He reaches out and gently pushes your head back down, encouraging you to continue cleaning his cum off your hand. He can't believe how fucking hot this is, and he loves seeing you enjoy it just as much as he is. "Keep going, baby...lick it all off..."

You lick and suck your fingers clean as you maintain eye contact with him.

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[mywritersmind]

THE BOOTH - LN4

summary : The booth. A notorious club in the heart of london, where y/n and lando met again after two years of silence.

listen up : fewtrell!reader. She sits in his lap. no smut, just hot and suggestive. creepy guy in the beginning! Prob my fav short i’ve written omg

word count : 1732

⋆｡‧˚⋆

“No.” I giggle out of uncomfortableness at the man getting closer to me.

“C’mon, let me buy you a drink.” the man reeks of alcohol and has fucked up teeth. I’ve seen enough. I pull down the bottom of my mini dress as I stand.

“No.” I repeat, pushing past him. The club is crowded and sticky, I see my friends but a hand around my wrist pulls me back.

“Really? Too good for me?” He scoffs in my face but the next thing I know he’s being pushed away from me.

“She is.” The voice comes from the man in front of me, the guy who pushed this dickhead away. “Piss off. She’s with me.”

The guy seems intimidated enough because he gives me a dirty look and leaves. “Thank y-” I pause when the man turns around.

I pause because the man is my childhood crush, brothers best friend, and fucking formula one driver.

“Lando?” I’m genuinely shocked that the britt I haven’t seen in two years is standing in front of me.

“Y/n!?” He looks me up and down, his mouth open, “Fuck… You look good.” I could say the same for him, in a navy button down, jeans, and his jewelry adorning his hands. He’s ridiculously hot.

I laugh, “Careful Lan, my brother could be lurking.” I switch my weight onto one leg as he smirks.

Max loves Lando. Max loves me.

Therefore, Max HATED the thought of us even speaking. We were all friends in childhood but our teens hit and suddenly I was completely off limits. I’m pretty sure he noticed how much I asked about Lando and swore that he would kill both of us if anything happened.

Someone walks behind him, causing him to get closer, his hand brushing against my hip, “Don’t scare me, yeah?”

I bite my lip at the thought, we start walking across the room, Lando’s hand firmly on me now as he ‘guides’ me. “Don’t worry. Idiots in Monaco… which means we have free rein.”

I see his jaw clench, his drink slide onto his lips again, “I’d like to keep my friendship.”

“I’d like to lose my panties.” I’m quick to reply, messing with Lando used to be my favorite thing.

You see, Lando is Max’s best friend. He feels bad lying and this would definitely be considered a betrayal of trust.

But for me… Max is my brother. I can lie and do whatever I want with no remorse. Lando is something I could do easily and as much as it would make me happy to piss off my brother, Norris has always been that one guy in the back of my mind.

“Christ Y/n. Missed your remarks.” We make it to the wall, it’s a bit quieter over here.

“You mean you missed my flirting?” I look up at him, he just bites his lip, hiding his smile.

“I missed you.” He surprises me with this.

“I missed you too.” I push my hand through my hair, “How’ve you been?”

“Good. Really good.” He smiles big and I know it’s because of his racing.

“Watched your win in Zandvoort.” I sigh, “Simply lovely was brutal.” He rolls his eyes, laughing and leaning his head back on the wall.

“Not you too!”

“It was hilarious! I liked it!” I hit his arm and the way he looks at me… it’s like every emotion that I've tucked away and only opened up in the darkness of my bedroom after midnight, comes out then. “I like this too.”

My hand goes to the back of his neck, playing with his curls that shape his baby mullet.

“Don’t do that.” He shakes his head, his eyes cut into me, his voice weak.

“What?” I say innocently.

“You always do this.”

“Do what, Norris?” Lando never was that much taller than me, but something about the two passed years has changed that.

His tongue runs over his teeth, he’s about to say something but two guys appear next to us, “Mate! We’ve been looking for you!” Another British man speaks, Alex Albon to be exact.

“Found a friend?” Carlos sainz eyes me, dressed in all black.

I smile at the drivers, Lando eyes Carlos. “Max’s sister. Y/n.” They both nod and look much too interested in how Lando says it, “Y/n… this is Alex and Carlos.”

“Pleasure.” I smile wide. I am an F1 fan, it’s a bit weird seeing Lando on the grid but I’ll sit and watch with Max almost every weekend that we’re together.

“Pleasures all ours! I’ve always wanted to meet Lando’s childhood crush!” Lando hits Carlos, making him grab his stomach, “Worth it!” The Spanish man chokes out.

Lando scratches the back of his neck, not looking at me. “Are you here with anyone?” Alex asks me, I knew he would be nice.

“Yeah! I’m not sure where they are but…”

“That’s okay. You have us now!” Alex and I end up getting a drink, Lando stays back with Carlos who’s definitely teasing him.

I get a vodka lemonade and four shots. Alex and I are already best friends and laughing so hard that Carlos and Lando won’t stop asking us what’s so funny.

They don’t know that I showed Alex a photo of Lando and I as smurfs when we were five.

⋆｡‧˚⋆

LANDO NORRIS

Describing Y/n is something i’ve done many times. To friends, for context in stories, but if i’d really describe her… I don’t think I would have an ending point.

She’s got long blonde hair. She cut it all off when she was fifteen and I almost fainted when I didn’t recognize her. She loved it.

She’s confident, you can see it in her walk. Her hips sway and the click of her heels is something I'll never forget.

When she talks to you, all attention is on you, her eyes are hazel, appearing brown in the dark but if you get close enough… you’ll see the green.

She never quite had an awkward stage, always been beautiful, probably always will be. I haven’t seen her in years yet she acts like I talked to her yesterday.

Y/n sucks on a lime after her shot, smiling and clapping her hands together, “God, I feel like i’m in highschool!”

I obviously didn’t go to school with her. She’s a year younger and Max would non stop complain about her. She was more popular than him, going out, and was basically friends with everyone.

I remind myself again that Max is the reason why my arm is around the couch and not her waist.

⋆｡‧˚⋆

Y/N

“Norris!” I stand, holding out my hand, “Picture time.” I smile as he stands with me.

“What?” Carlos asks.

“Called the booth for a reason, Sainz!” I grin at the boys, gripping Lando’s hand tight and maneuvering us through the crowd.

There’s one photo booth in the back corner of the club. It’s notorious for famous photos and making everyone look good.

I look back at the boys who all look confused. All except Lando.

We came to the booth when Lando was in town from F2, we were 17 and 18. Max had gone off with some girl and we found ourselves in this exact booth.

We swore never to talk about it.

But I’m all for repeating history.

“Fewtrell…” He warns in my ear as we walk to the starred booth.

I glance back, dragging out his name, “Norris.”

He gets in first, unlike us as teens, only one person can fit. I smile and watch Lando’s face drop, I sit down on his lap, “Playing with fire here, love.” he says in my ear.

“I don’t mind getting burned.” He slips two coins in, his hand moving to my waist and holding me steady.

We smile first.

SNAP

I move a bit and give him bunny ears.

SNAP

Lando clears his throat, gripping my skin tighter as he looks at me. I move again, my skirt riding up a bit. “Trying to kill me?”

I smile and kiss his cheek, feeling something hard against me.

SNAP

“Of course.” I look at him, “The memories in here… You remember?”

“I’d be an idiot to forget.”

His hand moves down my hip, closer to my thigh. I look at him again as the photo booth starts up for the second time, “I shouldn’t.” He whispers, my face centimeters from his. I hear the whistles outside.

I shift once more, turning more to him. He groans, his head falling backwards and his eyes closing, “Give me a good reason.”

SNAP

He opens his eyes, meeting mine. I know I've got him. My hand rests on his neck, my rings pressing against his skin. He mumbles something but it’s too loud, “Speak up, Norris.”

“Never spoken.” His eyes flick to my lips, trying to get me to promise this is a secret.

“Never ever.” He leans in closer.

SNAP

“Come on rule breaker… I believe in you.” I whisper in his ear and it breaks him. I’m pulling his head closer to me, his lips on mine, a relief like no other.

He grabs ass, pulling me closer in the tiny space. I slip my tongue in his mouth, whimpering a bit. He bites my lip. I’m melting into him. It’s hot and needy but so much more than I could have ever wanted.

SNAP

Kissing Lando at Seventeen was scandalous and drunken. Kissing Lando at Twenty Three flat out sexy.

“Need you…” He whispers into the kiss which makes me almost come undone right then and there.

Someone bangs on the booth, “Alright Lovebirds!” Lando laughs but I'm the one to pull away.

“I can’t leave this booth.” He says quickly, his face red and sweaty.

“You’ll be fine-” I understand what he’s talking about when I go to leave and something brushes against my leg, “Oh.”

He looks away from me, blushing.

I smile, proud of myself for the boner and his pink cheeks, “Aw come on! I’ll cover you.” I wink and he rolls his eyes, He walks out behind me, his arms firmly on my waist again.

The two drivers grin at us, “You covering a boner?” Carlos starts but gets punched for the second time tonight by Lando. He holds his stomach again, “Still worth it!”

[moonstruckme]

may i humbly request our lovely steddie with a carsick reader on a roadtrip. i imagine it’s eddies poor driving that sparks it and i could so picture steve and eddie bickering about it but still being very sweet to reader until she feels better

ily feel free to change what you want or not write it at all! thank you either way <3

Thanks for requesting <3

cw: nausea

poly!Steddie x fem!reader ♡ 771 words

Steve is on to you. Glancing at you at first in his visor mirror and then by turning around in his seat, an uneasy set to his brows. You try to focus on the A/C blowing on your knees via the small plastic vent. 

Eddie swerves into the next lane, and your throat tightens. 

“Hey,” Steve says to him, agitated, “take it easy.” 

“What?” 

“You’re driving like you’re trying to kill us.” 

“If I was trying to kill you, I’d have done it back in Iowa.” Eddie gives Steve’s leg a jostle, firm but fond. “And if you’re gonna be a backseat driver, I’ll put you in the backseat.” 

You aren’t looking, but he must be too distracted to notice the car in front of you slowing until it’s close. Your body rocks forward as he puts on the brakes. 

“I’m gonna open my window,” you say weakly. The windows in the front seat of Eddie’s van have hand cranks, but yours in the back only has a latching mechanism that allows it to open barely an inch. It’s enough for a concentrated stream of wind to hit your face if you lean your head against the glass. 

“Baby, on the highway?” Eddie asks over the whistling of air. 

“You’re making her sick,” Steve accuses. 

“I am not.” Eddie glances back at you. “Am I making you sick?” 

“No,” you mumble. 

“Stop driving like a lunatic.” The range between the glare Steve pins Eddie with and the soft look he gives you is impressive. “Hey, try to look out the front window if you can, okay? Do you wanna switch seats?” 

“That’s okay.” You breathe in, focussing on the fresh air hitting your face. “I’m good.” 

“Is it the heat? Are you hot?” 

“She’s always hot,” says Eddie, earning him a shove. “Hey! No attacking the driver.” 

Steve frowns at you. “Do you want to stop? We can pull over for a while.” 

You shake your head, stopping when your nausea worsens. “It’ll pass.” 

“Okay. Look out the front window, honey.” 

You do. Eddie’s eyes continually dart to you in the rear view mirror. You meet them once, and he pouts. 

“You want some of my coke?” he offers. “It’s, uh, kind of warm, but…” 

“I’m okay.” You offer a wan smile. “Thanks.” 

Steve turns around again. “Are you sure you don’t want to pull over? We could use a stop anyway.” 

You lean into the wind blasting through your window, breathing deeply. “I’m fine.” 

Five minutes later finds you sitting on the curb of a gas station with your head to your knees. 

Eddie lifts your hair. The sun beating down on your neck is worth it for the cooling power of the breeze. He’s asked how you’re feeling about every ten seconds since you exited the highway. You’ve stopped answering in anything but hums and grunts. 

The crisp sound of a soda can opening is about the best thing you’ve heard all day. 

“Here.” Steve sits on your other side. “See if this helps.” 

Beads of condensation roll off the can of ginger ale, wetting both Steve’s palm and yours when you take it. You tilt your chin up to take a sharp, fizzy sip. 

Eddie grins when you exhale. 

“Good stuff, huh?” he asks hopefully. 

“It helps,” you agree. 

“I think we should wait a while before getting back on the road,” says Steve. “But when we do, I’m driving.” 

“Uh.” Eddie’s eyebrows raise. “No, you are not.” 

Steve gives him an unamused look. He mimics Eddie’s intonation. “Yeah, I am.” 

“No! It’s Eddie’s Van Halen. Eddie drives.” 

“Oh, grow up. We were going to have to switch out at some point between here and California.” 

“I don’t know what you were thinking, but I have a twelve-pack of Jolts in the back. I can go all night.” 

“Perfect, that sounds super safe. It was your driving that got her carsick in the first place.” 

Something dangerously close to contrition flashes across Eddie’s expression as he looks to you. 

You give him a sorry smile. “I’m feeling a lot better now.” 

His mouth tilts. “Yeah? Glad to hear it, beautiful. Hey, maybe when we hit the road again we can try something new. Obviously you’re a better candidate for the passenger seat than Stevie here, so you can play DJ.” He waggles his eyebrows. “We have an array of music in Eddie’s Van Halen, with vocal accompaniment by yours truly.” 

Steve huffs, an eye roll in audible form. 

Before they can start bickering again, you say, “Yeah, sure. A distraction might help.”  

Eddie grins. “That’s my girl.”

[jeonstudios]

dextrocardia | 17

Dextrocardia. Originally a medical term, but also a way to describe someone who's got their heart in the right place.

"She's been moved to another operation to help out. This pairing is necessary because you'll be undercover as spouses. I know you two can be professional about this."

"What?!" It's Jeongguk's upset voice that sounds, and for once, you share his displeased opinion.

Spouses.

pairing: cop!jk x f detective!reader

genre: undercover cops, fake marriage, e2l au, angst, fluff, (smut?)

word count: 3.4k

warnings: uhm... blood, injuries to hands and feet...

rating: NC-17 – Adults Only

masterlist

part 17/? 

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© dextrocardia is copyright jeonstudios. this fic can not be modified, re-posted, or translated without my permission.

Determined, Jeongguk drives west, soon swapping his car for another black one at the rental. While he waits for the staff to grab the right key, he enters an address into his phone’s GPS, scanning through the satellite images in preparation. 

Ideally, he would’ve scoped the place out beforehand. In person. But he doesn’t have that option, so he tells himself that it’ll be fine. He just has to be careful. 

A few moments later, he gets into the driver’s seat, driving the new car back east, passing both the station and not too far from your apartment building. There’s a part of him that wants to stop by, to beg you to come back with him, but he ignores it, knowing full well that you wouldn’t appreciate it.

Luckily, the sun has already set by the time he arrives at the address an hour later, providing him the cover of darkness. The street in front of the two-story suburban house is quiet, and he slows the car to a stop at a safe distance. He’s relieved to see a few other cars parked along the street, making it easier for him to blend in.

Despite not being trained in surveillance quite like you, Jeongguk tries to think two, even three steps ahead. He manually switches off the interior lights before killing the engine, ensuring no harsh lights give him away if someone happens to be watching. If that someone also happens to know him, he’s fucked. 

Surrounded by darkness, he quickly scans the area before slipping out of the driver’s seat and into the back. Hidden from view, he picks up the binoculars he borrowed from the station, leaning against the seat in front of him as he peers through them.

Although it’s dark, the streetlights and the glow from inside the house are enough, and he starts by inspecting the cars parked outside. They’re ordinary cars with plates he doesn’t recognize. Unlocking his phone—the brightness set as low as possible—he writes the plates down to look them up later.

Then, he turns his attention toward the house. It’s a white-painted home with a decent-sized porch that almost reminds him of the house he shared with you during the mission, only smaller. He keeps his gaze on it, noticing movement through the mostly curtain-covered windows on the bottom floor, but it's impossible to make out any details. Just shadows dancing against the beige fabric.

A sudden sound interrupts the silence, and through the side-view mirror, Jeongguk spots a vehicle approaching from behind. He ducks, staying completely still. The dark car passes, and a few seconds later, Jeongguk peeks out from behind the driver’s seat again. The driver is parking outside the house, and so Jeongguk holds his breath.

The door on the driver’s side opens, but the man inside is distracted by something in the passenger seat, and as he begins to step out, his face remains hidden from Jeongguk’s view. He’s wearing dark clothes; a thicker winter jacket of some kind, and his hair is black. Nothing incriminating or identifying.

Come one, come on.

With both feet on the ground, the man turns his head to quickly scan the street, and Jeongguk sinks back down in his seat, his eyes wide. 

JJ.

Jeongguk watches his coworker slam the door shut, only to round the car to seemingly grab something from the backseat floor out of view. A second later, JJ emerges with a small black bag in his hand—just like the one Sana briefly described to Jeongguk after he’d stumbled across her and Jihyo buried in papers and questioned them.

JJ heads for the front door of his “stepsister's” house, taking the two steps up in a single stride. Jeongguk watches him knock and then how he stands there, waiting for someone to open. Again, Jeongguk holds his breath, praying that tonight will lead to a breakthrough. 

It’s almost as if they know that Jeongguk is waiting, on the edge of his seat, because whoever is behind that door is taking their goddamn time. Additionally, his phone chooses the worst time to ring, the vibrations unnoticeable for his target but distracting for him. Then, the door opens, and Jeongguk’s dextrocardic heart skips a beat, and maybe it also fills his veins with anger.

Ryung.

You have a hard time putting your feelings into words, somehow satisfied by your recent breakthrough but also jittery and nervous about what it might mean. You could be one step closer to finally putting some very bad men behind bars, or at least try to, but you’ve also realized that, yeah, there’s a risk that you’re in more danger than you thought.

On one hand, you’re probably farther away from JJ (at least), but on the other hand, you’re alone. Although you didn’t stay with Jeongguk that long, it’s still taken you some time to get used to not living with him anymore. Your apartment is smaller than his house, but it’s a pretty home; recently renovated but with a homey feel to it. At least you try to convince yourself that.

“Okay, my phone’s about to die, but you have a safe flight. Bye,” you tell your mother, waiting for her goodbye before hanging up and slipping your phone into the front pocket of your black hoodie. 

Your mother. You’ve tried to keep her as unknowing and uninvolved as possible, and although she knows that the city’s police force has been dealing with some corruption, she doesn’t know that you’re in the middle of it. It’s been relatively easy to keep her in the dark, or at least in the shadows; she’s not the most updated person, preferring to stay off social media and only read physical newspapers now and again.

For the longest time, before everything unfolded and while you dealt with the harassment at work and the tampering of your car, you thought your end was inevitable, and you didn’t want to worry her. Now... well… you guess you still don’t want her to worry. It would be useless as there’s never been anything she could do to help you. If anything, she’d be in danger too.

Living alone again, you've set a new bedtime routine in place. It includes a hot drink—usually tea but sometimes cocoa—along with lazily scrolling the internet on your laptop with the lights dimmed while the TV hums in the background. It helps take your mind off things and the human voices make these dark nights feel less lonely.

Tonight, however, the nine o’clock news reported a mass shooting involving multiple gunmen not too far from your station, and you watched in horror as the news anchor described the chaos. Squad cars from neighboring districts had been called in to help your understaffed station handle the panicked crowds and roaming gunmen. As a criminal investigator, there’s nothing you can do to help; you’re not trained to handle a task like that. You think about your colleagues, mainly all the officers called in, hoping none of them get hurt tonight.

To calm your nerves, you put the kettle on and rummage through the cupboard in search of your tea. Maybe chamomile will calm you until there’s an update.

But you don’t have time to pick out a tea bag before there’s a sharp knock on your door. You freeze. It’s late—almost ten p.m.—and you haven’t really made friends with your elderly neighbors.

Swallowing hard, you turn around and very slowly make your way from the kitchen to the door. Your heart pounds against your ribs, adrenaline coursing through your veins. Maybe it's Jeongguk?

Holding your breath, you rise onto your toes to press your eye to the peephole. A chill runs down your spine, and your blood freezes.

It’s not Jeongguk. It’s Hoseong, and he’s dressed in black, staring right at you, smiling.

You stumble backward, body locking up in fear.

He looks the same as you remember him—tall and muscular with dark eyes. But his hair is longer now, nearly reaching his jaw. He used to seem so charming to you, but even if he mostly looks the same, all you see now is how unsettling he is.

“I know you’re in there,” he sings, hos voice teasing. “And a little bird told me you’ve been having trouble with your door. The latch, was it?”

He knows about your door? You step back slowly, heart pounding. What do you do? You always lock your door—like now—but lately, the latch has become misaligned. It’s a small issue. Barely noticeable. Just enough to make locking and unlocking tricky sometimes.

But there’s a gap. A weak spot.

Then, you hear it. It’s a faint, eerie sound, like someone sliding a thin object, maybe a credit card, into the door. As if to wiggle the latch loose.

What do you do?

Your first instinct is to scream for help, but when you think about it… Your neighbors are elderly, and Hoseong is definitely armed and on the warpath. The best thing they could do is call the understaffed, already busy cops. They can’t help you.

Instead, you rush to the kitchen, yanking open a drawer and wrapping your trembling fingers tight around your sharpest knife. A second later, you hear the unmistakable sound of the door sliding open, followed by quick, angry footsteps.

Hoseong is smiling when he steps into view, a knife glinting in his hand. The smile is twisted, never reaching his eyes, and instinctively, you start to back up against the counter. He looks angry, frustrated, maybe even worn beyond the smile. You guess life on the run brings an element of stress.

“Finally, I’ve got you alone,” he seethes, striding toward you. “You’ve ruined my life, you know that? Fucking whore.”

You hold your knife out, preparing to defend yourself as best you can. But the truth is that Hoseong isn’t just a good bit bigger and a lot stronger than you—he’s also faster and more athletic. And most importantly, he’s trained to defend himself and disarm others in a way you just aren’t.

So when you thrust the knife toward him as he closes in, he dodges with ease and uses his free hand to grab your wrist hard. In one fluid motion, he clamps his knife between his teeth to get his other hand free, harshly yanking your knife from you. It clutters against the floor somewhere out of view. Next, he’s taking his knife back, shifting his grip on it, and preparing to strike.

With one hand still trapped in his grasp, you don’t get the angle or opportunity to disarm him like he did you. Instead, your left hand only manages to grab the blade. You’re not sure if you feel how it hurts or if you just know that it does, but something warm starts to drip down your hand as you try to keep the knife away from you, gritting your teeth.

Somehow, you manage to land a kick to his crotch, and despite the less-than-perfect angle, the pressure of the knife lessens as Hoseong stumbles back. Seizing the opportunity, you push him away with all your might, sprinting toward the only place with a lock. 

The bathroom. 

Almost instantly, Hoseong regains his balance, and he’s so close that you briefly feel the graze of his fingers in your hair as he sets off after you. Panicked, you grab anything within reach, hurling it back between you to slow him down. A tall, vintage vase crashes to the floor, a frustrated ‘fuck’ drawn from Hoseong, and it’s what buys you just enough time to reach the bathroom and lock the door behind you. A split second after you’ve twisted the lock, he’s yanking on the handle. Hard.

Alone in the bathroom, gasping for air, you fall to your knees. Blood is quickly collecting on your gray tile floor, and you have to look away from your shaky, torn-up hand. Your other hand reaches into the pocket of your hoodie, fumbling with the phone as you pull it out. It’s nothing more than pure luck that it didn’t fall out during the commotion. 

Suddenly, a booming crash shakes the door, and you both see and feel the impact as Hoseong tries to kick the door in. Quickly, you scramble to sit in front of it, pressing your back against it and planting your feet firmly on the floor.

You glance at your phone, already knowing there’s no use. The police won’t have anyone to send, and even if they did, Hoseong’s going to get you before they’ve even dispatched someone. Eyes blurry with tears, you press on a contact, lifting your phone to your ear and listening to the signals. 

“Hello?”

Hearing his familiar voice, the deep but slightly surprised greeting, is what does it, and you break further. He sounds like he didn’t expect you to call, probably because you’ve made it clear that you don’t want him around.

“Jeongguk?” you sniffle quietly, shakily, knowing that there’s nothing he can do either. All officers were called in, so he’s at least thirty minutes away. 

He must hear the overwhelming emotions in your voice because his next words are clearer, sharper, as if he adjusted the phone to hear better. “What’s wrong?”

“He’s here–” you whisper, your voice trembling—especially when Hoseong kicks against the door again, the shockwaves hitting you.

“–What?” Jeongguk questions, and you hear rustling in the background.

“Yeah, Hoseong’s here, and he’s got me,” you cry, nearly dropping the phone as the door is hit again. You do your best to grip the device tightly. “I’m not gonna make–”

Silence. Not even the rustling you heard on his end. You lower the phone to look at the screen through tears, only to find it black and dead.

This time, you’re not gonna make it.

Closing your eyes, you try to get a deep breath in. Maybe two. You know it’s inevitable, but are you just going to wait for it? Desperately, you open your eyes again, looking around the blood-stained bathroom for something—anything—to use as a weapon or shield when Hoseong inevitably breaks the door down. 

But there’s nothing, and hit after hit rattles the door against your back. You’re not sure why he didn’t bring a gun. Of course, he’ll succeed tonight anyway, but a gun would’ve spared him some effort and you some unnecessary terror. Sure, someone might hear a gunshot, but he’s not being very quiet now either. You have a feeling he saw his undisturbed opportunity with the mass shooting happening and the police stretched thin. If someone in the building has called, it will still be a while before anyone arrives. He'll be done and on his way by then.

Despite the lack of weapons and protection, your eyes focus on something you can use to at least buy you some time. You stand up on shaky legs, quickly heading over to the bathtub, and with all your might, try to drag and push it in front of the door. Adrenaline still pumps through your veins, but you’re starting to feel the pain of your hand, blood smearing across the white porcelain. 

The tub is incredibly heavy, but even in your state, you manage to wedge one end against the door. You’re fairly certain that it’ll keep Hoseong from breaking the door in, but the tub only reaches your thigh, and Hoseong might break through the door above it. After all, it’s of the flimsier kind, and you’re surprised it’s held on for so long already.

Or, he might realize–just like you have–that the door doesn’t swing inward. It swings out.

“You can’t hide in there forever,” Hoseong pauses his assault on the door, his voice the angriest you’ve ever heard. “You won’t be able to weasel your way out this time.”

“Why can’t you just let it go?” you finally yell, your voice strained.

“Let go? Let go?” He spits the words with fury, his rage palpable. “You’ve ruined my life, you understand that, right?! Either I live the rest of my life on the run, or I risk rotting away in jail just because you couldn’t let it go.”

You want so badly to yell obscenities at him, insult him for being too stupid to realize that he ruined his own life. He decided to assault you, turn everyone against you, and make attempts on your life. He took the risk, and he only has himself to blame now that karma is chasing him. But you don’t voice those thoughts, fearing that it would only fuel his anger and that’s the last thing you need.

“But how does this help? Coming here to hurt me now? If anything you’ll only risk a longer time in jail?”

“I don’t care,” he argues, his voice still dripping with hatred. “Life on the run will be better knowing that you’re six feet under and that your heroic boyfriend couldn’t save you.”

And then, there’s silence again. It doesn’t last long, but there’s something eerie about those four or five seconds before you hear a sharp metallic sound. 

Eyes widening, you realize that yeah, he’s also figured out that the door swings outward—he doesn’t need to kick the door in if he can unscrew the latch instead. That's what the metallic scraping is; his knife working the lock.

Your heart pounds as you frantically scan the room again. Maybe if you could wedge a broomstick or something under the handle and across the door frame? But there’s no broomstick. There’s nothing. So you’re left holding your breath and waiting for him to succeed. It feels like ages, but it’s probably only a minute or so before the lock falls to the floor with a metallic clang.

You back away from the bathtub and the door, knowing that it most likely won’t make any difference. And you’re right—the door swings open half a second later, a raging Hoseong setting his eyes on you and charging.

You try to dodge him, but he grabs you by your wrist and pulls you out of the bathroom. You stumble as he drags you out, your hip banged violently and painfully against the tub. 

“You fucking whore. You’re gonna pay for what you’ve done,” he promises, making sure to drag you across the vase shards on the way back to the kitchen.

In vain, you try to avoid them, wincing when they cut your feet. Your pain makes Hoseong—who’s of course wearing shoes—laugh, but he stops when you surprise him by throwing yourself to the floor.

The shard you grab cuts your skin, but you try to ignore the pain as you drive the sharp point into his back, piercing through his thin black jacket. Hoseong curses and his posture falters, but you doubt it did any real damage even if it hurt, and you’re right. You barely have time to blink before he whirls around, swinging his knife at you. Unfortunately, you don’t dodge the blow completely, and you feel how it swipes your side.

Still holding your wrist in a tight grip, it’s Hoseong’s turn to stumble when you yank on it in an unexpected direction; the kitchen sink. You manage to get a few steps closer, and that’s all you need. As he swings again, you reach for the kettle, hurling the scalding water over him. Some of the scattered drops hit your face and hands, stinging as they land on your skin, but it’s nothing compared to the pained yell Hoseong lets out as he drops your hand and staggers back.

Exhausted and in pain, you'd hoped it would be the end of it, but it's not. Seemingly running on nothing but fumes, adrenaline, and anger, Hoseong straightens up, and then he’s focusing on you yet again, gritted teeth and angrier than ever.

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[captainreecejames]

Pick Me Up?

Charles Leclerc imagine

summary : the four times Charles picks you up and the one time you pick him up.

pairing : Charles leclerc x fem!reader

I believe there is no mention of YN, but I'm not 100% sure.

word count : 3.5 k

warnings : none that I can think of

note : I only read over this once so if there's spelling errors or other mistakes that's what happened. Next up should either be Logan Sargeant my ex is a footballer or the social media accompanying fic. Anyways, enjoy and me if you like it!!

1. Charles picks you up from a bad date

The date had started fine.

Actually more than fine. He showed up on time, was pleasant to the waitress, and had good manners. Really, he would have even gotten a second date, if he hadn’t brought up Formula 1.

It’s a topic you tend to avoid when meeting new people, as they either tend to know a lot already and want to use you to get to Charles or they don’t know anything and assume that you are using Charles, when they know nothing about your relationship. It was a hassle you learned to shut down before it even began.

But back at the date with Vince, he had brought it up and that’s when things started to go down hill. 

Despite your best efforts, when people brought up Formula 1, you grew taller and more focused on the conversation, it’s like a switch flipped. While Charles driving for the best known team certainly helped your interest, everything about the sport was fascinating for you and you couldn’t help but geek out when the topic came up. 

Vince noticed your reaction and his casual demeanor turned critical. “You only know about it because you think the drivers are hot.” That had made your smile drop instantly, brows furrowing as you tried to respond. “Probably can’t even name all the teams.” He thinks that stumps you, but you’ve dealt with enough shitty men in this sport, you’re not taking anything more from this wanna-be investor.

“I don’t have to prove my knowledge of F1 to you,” you state, deciding that this dinner is now over.

“Oh, now I know you can’t even name five drivers.” Your frown deepens, picking up your napkin and placing it on the table next to your plate. It had gone down hill so fast, how disappointing.

“Your attempt at insulting me into submission is falling flat.” His eyes are wide at your comment, and he must not have expected you realize his move. You flag the waitress over and she walks quickly back to your table, noticing how you’re not smiling anymore. Seems like this date is a bust, so another twenty note must be added to the jar of bets amongst the staff of this restaurant.

(You and Charles visit the place often as it was the sight of your first job, but also the food and people were lovely, and bringing a first date here was the safest option.)

(So they all knew you and were betting on when the dam breaks and you two admit your feelings for each other.)

You hand Lucille enough money to cover both yours and Vince’s meals, not bothering with the change. Your goal now is to get as far away from Vince as soon as possible. He  opens his mouth to say something again, but you are already out of your seat and walking towards the front door, phone calling Charles to pick you up.

He answers on the first ring, always on alert when you go on dates.

(Not because he’s jealous or anything, but because he’s worried about you and needs to make sure that you stay safe. He’s been tempted to bribe the staff of your little restaurant for information during dates after a particularly bad one, but his mom talked him out of it.)

“Ma cherie, is everything alright?” You roll your eyes at his question, just knowing that there’s a smirk on his face right now. He didn’t have a great feeling about Vince, but he wouldn’t say I told you so.

“Can you pick me up please?” You barely need to finish your question before he answers with an ‘of course, I’m already on my way.’

“Need me to stay on the phone?” You glance back at the restaurant, looking in the window to find Vince scrolling away on his phone, oblivious to the movement around him.

“No, focus on the streets. I’ll be fine.” Charles hums his answer and hangs up, leaving you to look busy on the streets of Monte Carlo.

He pulls up not even two minutes later, stopping the car haphazardly in a tow-away zone. You rush to the side, opening the door and shimmying in as fast as you can because even though this is Charles Leclerc’s very recognizable Pista, you don’t want to risk any tickets. While he pulls away you realize how fast he showed up and a question forms on your lips, but he speaks before you have the chance to ask.

“I was only down the road at the marina.” He seems sheepish, like the answer is rehearsed, but you don’t push it because you’re still grateful that he showed up. What would you do without him to pick up after a bad date?

2. Charles picks you cause your car breaks down

This time when you call him should feel less embarrassing than other times, but really it only feels worse. How are you going to admit to him that the car you’ve been saving up for and desperately wanting since you were 7 just crapped out on you before you could even get out of the parking garage? Especially when he advised you against such car. It would be humiliating. 

Alas, you made the call, practicing in your mind what you would say to him. 

Again, he picks up on the first ring, though this time you’re not sure as to why he answered so fast.

“Is everything alright, ma cherie?” You blush, grateful he can’t see your face.

“I’m stuck,” you exhale, ready to face what ever he has in store for you.

“Stuck?”

“My car won’t start and I’m still at work, everyone else has left and I’m in need of a ride.”

“Okay,” he answers, relief filling you. “I’m leaving the gym with Andrea, I should be there in 15 minutes. Don’t talk to any strangers.”

“Love you too, Charles.” You roll your eyes, hanging up on him and sitting in the drivers seat of your beloved, but broken, car. That’s some good money about to go down the drain for the tow and mechanic fees. As you debate calling your dad to help you out with diagnosing what’s wrong with the car, a familiar rumble enters the garage, and you see the ever famous Pista pulling up next to you, a smirking Charles in the driver’s seat.

“Someone call for a pick up?” You want to roll your eyes at him, but the smile on his face makes the irritation melt away. After a long day at work, made even longer because your stupid car that you really wanted wouldn’t start, all you feel is relief and affection for the man in front of you, and it’s a little too overwhelming.

Tears pool in your eyes and Charles frowns, cutting the engine and climbing out so he can hug you. He only admits it to his mother, but holding you is just as good a driving when he’s driving on the track with a car that responds to his every command.

(And what he won’t admit to anyone is that if holding you feels like that, then kissing you must feel like he’s just won a world championship.)

“Ma cherie,” he whispers, pulling your body into his own and stroking your hair to soothe you. He doesn’t ask any questions, which you’re grateful for, you don’t actually know what’s wrong other than everything is just too much and him showing up makes you feel safe enough to let it all out.

When you’ve finally slowed your breathing and made yourself relax he pulls away, looking at you with so much love in his eyes that you’re not sure if you’re dreaming. “Now you know what it felt like to drive under Binnotto.”

The comment is a shock and it makes you snort, which is what Charles was going for. Your laugh that he thinks could make him smile even in the darkest moods. “You can’t say that Mr. Ferrari.” You smack his chest while shaking your head, but the rueful smile on your face tells him that you still haven’t gotten over the team principle screwing him over.

Then the smile eases into something much more natural, and he knows the tense moment has passed. “Takeout?” he suggests, ushering you to the passenger side of his car. You nod at him and he’s pretty sure that he would do anything to make you smile.

3. Charles picks you up for a spontaneous lunch date

The next day it’s he who calls you, but you still an answer on the first ring.

(You’ve dedicated a Måneskin song as his ringtone so you always know when he’s calling)

(He made your ringtone a Mika song after you dragged him to a concert)

“Charles,” you answer, confusion in your tone.

“Ma cherie!” he sounds excited and you can’t help but want to follow him anywhere he goes when he sounds like that.

“Is everything alright?” You ask it this time, because shouldn’t he be packing for a race now?

“I’m outside, we’re going to spend the day on the water.” After leaving your home last night, Charles decided that you needed a pick me up, and what better way but to spend a few hours lounging around on his yacht, soaking up the sun and enjoying each other’s company.

(No one else would be there, but this wasn’t a date.)

(Seriously Arthur, it wasn’t a date.)

You spare a glance around your room, laundry begging to be done and dishes waiting to be washed. Yeah, you could use a day away from chores.

“Let me grab a bag,” you tell him, already throwing more clothes around the room in search of your favorite bathing suit. He hums through the speaker and you put your phone down to keep searching for the bathing suit. It was your favorite red crossover one piece and you be damned if you didn’t wear it today, anything to manifest a Ferrari win.

When you finally manage to find it, in the pile of clean but not put away laundry, you pick your phone back up and tell Charles you’ll be right down.

In two minutes you’re out the door of apartment, eyes landing on Charles leaning against his car. He looks so handsome with the windswept hair and Ray-bans on, you really have to wonder why he’s spending the afternoon with you and not some model he met in a garage.

(He’d say it’s because it’s the weekend before a race and this is a tradition, spending the afternoon with you before he leaves is the only way to ward off bad luck.)

(Seriously, before the Netherlands race last year you'd been unable to make it because of a bad cold and he had to retire the car that race, so safe to say you were forced to the boat, or his apartment, or he came over before the plane every time after that.)

Maybe the question is what would he do without you?

4. Charles picks you up from a girl’s night

This time Charles doesn’t pick up on the first ring, in fact, he barely makes it to the phone in time to answer. That’s because it’s not you who is calling, but rather a friend.

You and few girl friends had decided on a girls night out for one of them going through a bad break up, but after a few pregame shots and then drinks at this club, you were pretty intoxicated.

Looking for your group after coming back from the bathroom and the bar, you had spotted Lando and Max across the room, which made you think about Charles.

(Not that he ever really left your mind.)

And when you think about Charles, you wonder where he is, so you went to your friends. Both their faces lit up when they saw you, indicating that they were also not sober. After a quick hug for both of them you turn to survey the rest of the bar, looking for your Monagasque. 

“He’s not here!” shouts Max, trying to be heard over the noise. Your shoulders drop, turning back to the two racers with a pout on your lips.

“Where is he?” you ask, trying to seem nonchalant, but drunk you can’t hide her feelings as easily as sober you.

(Many would argue that sober you can’t hide her feelings easily either, but all that matters is that Charles doesn’t find out. And since he’s too occupied in hiding his also obvious feelings, you’re both oblivious to the other’s pining.)

Lando says that Charles stayed at home, something about playing the piano and having an early night was more tempting than drinks. The real reason being that if Charles went out he would not have been able to stop thinking about you and your potential suitors, which would lead to him drinking to forget. He was not up for another heartbreak hangover.

Your eyes light up at the mention of Charles playing the piano, sitting down in the booth with them. “Oh! I bet it’s going to sound wonderful!” Both drivers roll their eyes, and to their disappointment, you’re not drunk enough to miss it. “You don’t like his music?” The accusation in your tone makes them readjust their face. It’s not that they don’t like his compositions, it’s just that when Charles explains them, it’s almost always about how you looked on a certain day and he just was so inspired he had to put something down. They’re really tired of the back and forth between you too.

You begin your speech on how talented Charles is at the piano, which then morphs into how talented he is as a driver, and then as a person. It all turns into a ramble about how proud you are of him, something they’ve all heard before.

When you’ve somehow made it to Leo and how Charles chose the perfect puppy, the man himself shows up.

“Ma cherie,” he interjects, placing a hand on your shoulder to get your attention. You turn towards him, and Max swears that there should be cartoon hearts in your eyes.

“Charles!” you yell, wrapping your arms around him in a tight hug. “What are you doing here?” You’re slightly too loud for being in his arms, but he doesn’t care if you yell his ear off, it’s still you.

“Max said you were ready to come home.” Your brows furrow at that, because you don’t remember ever saying that, or even Max disappearing to call Charles, but you can’t be mad at him showing up.

“One more drink?” you ask, eyes pleading with him. Charles shakes his head, he can feel how much he’s supporting your weight even while sitting and knows that any more alcohol will likely end with you tripping over yourself.

“Water,” he answers and you’ve agreed to the words coming out of his mouth because it’s Charles, and he’ll never steer you wrong.

Charles heads to the bar to grab a water, running into your group of friends there. He tells them your status and that’ll he’ll be taking you home after this drink. They all nod along, most of them predicting that the night would end like this: Charles showing up and driving you home.

When it’s finally time to leave and Charles has ushered you out of the packed club into his Pista, you remember that you came here with a completely different group. “The girls!”

“Don’t worry, ma cherie, I saw them before we left and told them I’d take you home.” The gentle smile on his face is enough to put one on yours. Where would you be without him, indeed.

+ 1. You pick Charles up from the airport

You’ve got a new car now, thanks to Charles, and since he needs to be picked up from the airport, you’ve decided to take it for a nice spin. The roads are relatively clear for the drive, and you’re there in the usual 30 minutes. That makes you early for Charles, but you take the time to work out what you’re going to say to him.

Before you get out of the car you text him your location, so that he can head right out and find you, rather than you going into the terminal to look for him. He always was better at finding you.

The last night out had not only ended with Charles taking you home, but with a revelation. You couldn’t keep living like this. Loving him so much and not telling him was suffocating. It made you feel like you were on the edge of a cliff with nothing to keep you safe, and you were tired of it. So the question was, how did you tell him.

“Charles, I’ve been in love with you for ages,” you said, but shook your head. That didn’t sound right.

“Charles, I have to tell you something really important. I think I’m in love with you.” No, you shook your head again and groaned. “I don’t think I’m in love with him, I know I am.”

“Charles, you’re the most important person in my life, I don’t know what I’d do with out you.” Okay, solid start, you might have something with that.

“Charles light of my life.” No. “That’s too cheesy.”

“God, I wish I could put into words how much you mean to me. I love you so much I don’t know what to do with myself most of the time. It’s like I need to feel you to be able to breathe properly. All I really ever need is for you to look and smile at me and I’ll know that everything will be alright. I can get through anything with you there. If you love someone else it would break my heart, but knowing that you’re happy is all I need to be okay. I’d live with the thought of you loving someone else, because if they made you as happy and good as I feel, then there’s nothing more I could ask for.” Yeah, that sounded-

“Well it’s a good thing I love you too.”

You screamed, turning around to see Charles behind you in all his glory. Black sweatshirt and baggy jeans, hair messy like he ran his hand through it multiple times.

“How long have you been there?” you asked, face turning red enough to rival Ferrari.

“At Charles, light of my life.” He shrugged, like you hadn’t just bared your soul out to him. “Though, I disagree, it’s not too cheesy.” Could you get any redder? Feels like this is as red as a human being could get before self-combusting.

He’s just standing there, with a dopey smile on his face that you want to kiss, but you can’t. Something is holding you to the spot. You force yourself to say something. “Can you say something else?”

“Like what?”

“Anything else, I feel like I’m going to explode if you don’t say something.”

“Thanks for coming to pick me up.” He adds a shrug to the end and you narrow your eyes.

“That’s not what I meant, and you know it.”

“Oh, you want me to say that I love you too.”

“I don’t want you to say it if you don’t mean it.” If you were a kid you’d add a stomp to the end, as if you were throwing a temper tantrum. He furrows his brow like he’s confused and still you want to kiss him senseless.

“Well, I mean it.”

Now you’re the one confused. “What?”

“I love you too, and I don’t think I’d be okay if you loved someone else as much as I love you. Because I’m selfish and a terrible man and I want you all to myself.” He shakes his head. “I need you all to myself,” he corrects. “You’re the love of my life and if I wasn’t yours then I don’t think I could go on. But you said you do love me, so everything is so much easier now.” Each sentence is punctuated with a step closer, until he’s just a few inches from you, like he needs you to take the last step. You do, without hesitation, because you really would do anything for him.

Eyes glancing at his lips and back, you catch him doing the same thing. “I love you more than anything in this world. I’d give up racing if you asked, I do anything for you.”

Another glance at his lips. “I’d never ask that of you, Charles. But, I love you too, and I’d do anything for you.” His smile at those words would normally catch you off guard, like you’d stop breathing at it, but somehow it just makes everything easier right now. So you kiss him.

Leaning forward those last few inches to grab his shoulders and pull him down so you can kiss him with as much love as you can muster. If words can’t explain how much you love him then maybe kissing him will convey it. That you love him more than words, actions and thoughts can combine. You love him.

(And he loves you.)

[freedomfireflies]

Overdrive*

Summary: The one where it's 1969 and Harry likes to drive really, really fast.

Word Count: 5.5k

Content Warning: 18+, smut, multiple orgasms, breeding kink, exhibitionism, very brief daddy kink

Five.

The sound of revving engines echoes between the tall, city buildings. Loud enough to startle a nearby flock of birds on a telephone wire as they take off into the dark night to escape the lurid noise. 

Four.

The smell of burning rubber is everywhere. Tires screech against the pavement as the smoke dissipates into the warm summer air and the drivers prepare for that familiar white flag.

Three.

There’s a murmur amongst the crowd. The bets have been placed and the anticipation has set in. They pick their favorite driver, and they hope that somehow, they’ll be able to beat the unbeatable. 

Him.

Two.

You can see your little speed demon just up ahead as he waits patiently in front of the makeshift starting line. He seems relaxed. Confident. One hand is settled on the steering while the other is flipping the bird to the driver beside him. 

One.

The flag waves and the drivers take off. A streak of color flashes across the street as each of the five cars attempt to take their place ahead of the rest. But nobody can seem to get an edge on the black Lamborghini Miura already skidding around the first curve, effortlessly leaving them all behind.

You grin. It’s harder to see the cars now that they’re on the other side of the buildings, but you can hear them. You can hear his engine, specifically. You’d know the sound anywhere. After all, he spent weeks introducing you to the ins and outs of his favorite toy. Showing you exactly how to care for it, with those rough, practiced hands that also happen to care for you, too. 

You catch a glimpse of his vehicle just before it disappears past the drugstore. He shifts gears and accelerates, just before the blue Stingray to his right can gain on him. You hold your breath as both cars drift around the corner onto the next road and the crowd begins to cheer. 

Harry hasn’t lost a race in weeks. You don’t imagine he could lose if he tried. In fact, he could be blindfolded with no brake pedal and a faulty transmission and somehow, he’d still be miles ahead of the competition. 

It’s one of the things you love most about him. The way his eyes light up when he gets behind the wheel. The way the engine purrs in his hands and the way he can bend the road to his will. 

The Stingray veers to the right in order to get ahead of him, but Harry seems to anticipate this attempt. He cuts the other driver off just before he can speed up and your heart jumps into your throat. The only thing you don’t like about his racing is how careless he can be at times.

If you’re in the car, he takes the utmost care to make sure you’re safe. That you’re never put in harm’s way.

But when he’s alone, he’s in a whole other world of his making. He doesn’t consider the consequences or the repercussions. He doesn’t consider you. The way you’d feel if you lost him. 

And you trust his instincts, you do. But you can’t always say you enjoy the show. 

The Stingray slams on his brakes as Harry takes off and slides around the second to last corner. Tire marks are painted across the cement in his wake and the crowd cheers. 

Your stomach twists. He seems to be doing all right, although one of his fatal flaws is that it’s nearly imposable to tell how he’s feeling. He’s eerily stoic when he’s under pressure and perhaps that’s a good thing. 

But that doesn’t exactly help you now as he zigs and zags across the road before finally reaching the last turn that leads into the final stretch.

This is it. You hold your breath as you watch from the edge of the sidewalk, hands twisting in front of your chest as he races across the last few hundred feet. It’ll be close—the Stingray is gaining on him with each passing second—but Harry’s undeterred. He switches into a lower gear and the engine comes alive. Giving the car torque for those last few inches as he flies across the finish line. And the race is over.

The rest of the cars follow shortly after and the growing crowd of onlookers all swarm the street. They cheer and they holler, and they flock to the handsome driver now stepping out of his vehicle, desperate to congratulate him. But those soft green eyes only search for you. 

When he finally finds you squished between the horde of admirers, he grins, and begins to push his way through to you.

The moment you meet, he picks you up, hugs you to his chest, and spins you around. And you squeal giddily, happy to be back in his embrace as you wrap your arms around his neck and hold on for dear life.

“My little lucky clover,” he whispers proudly. “What did I tell you, hm?”

The nickname makes your insides grow warm. He’s called you his lucky clover ever since that first race when the two of you met. He claimed he only won because he saw you standing there watching and was desperate to impress you. And that every race he’s won since has been because of you and your charming presence. 

You aren’t so sure you believe him, but you have to admit it sounds pretty on his tongue.

You laugh as he puts you back down. “I know, I know,” you finally concede. “You were right.”

“Mhm.” He smirks—cocky—before he’s surging forward to kiss you. Soft and slow and with a desire that almost feels scandalous for such a public place. “I always am.”

His tongue brushes against yours while his hand splays across your lower back to tug your body to his and the crowd cheers as you giggle. But you don’t fight the way he loves you. Instead, you cling to his shirt and allow him to take what he wants.

When he finally allows you a moment to breathe, you gaze at him curiously. “How fast were you going?”

“120 on the main stretch. 80 on the curves,” he says, then chuckles at the way you frown. “M’fine, Clover. I promise.”

“You agreed nothing over 100,” you remind him.

“Yeah, but I needed to win.”

“No, you don’t need to win. You need to stay alive.”

“Well, why can’t I do both?”

Unamused, you huff, and lightly slap at his stomach. “Not funny, H.”

However, he merely laughs aagain and pulls you back between his arms. “Come on, sweetheart,” he says softly. “You know I’d never die on you. I’d miss you too much.”

“Let’s hope so.” You push up onto your toes to bring your lips to his once more. “Cause if you die on me…I’ll kill you.”

His smile is smug as he kisses you hard before he leads you back to his car. The large mass follows, anxious to ask him questions or offer their praise. And he listens to dutifully, perching himself on his hood while pulling you between his legs. 

It’s the same after every race. The other drivers try to tease him while his growing group of fans are desperate to be noticed by him. He might not be inherently famous, but he is to this crowd. They love a lot of things about him. His skill, his confidence, his looks. 

And you can’t exactly blame them.

It’s impossible to tell if you want to be him or be with him. You imagine for most people, it’s both. He has a sort of relaxed assurance that seems to make everyone else around him comfortable. And there’s a mystery about him. An intrigue to know more about the man behind the wheel. About who he is outside of these races. What he’s really like. 

He slings an arm around your shoulder and pulls you back into his chest. He talks to the driver of the Stingray and they exchange comments about the almost collision that makes your stomach turn. But when he notices, he presses a quick kiss to your temple and changes the subject. 

However, the rowdy celebration is cut rather short by the sound of sirens as two police cars come slinging around the side of a building with their lights flashing and their microphones on.

Everybody scatters, a collection of wild cheers and hollering voices as the officers step out of their vehicles in order to round up the crowd and instruct everyone to return home.

But Harry is unfazed as he pats your hip and nods his chin up. He’s rather good at his getaway now. After all, you imagine he’d have to be with all the times the police have broken up these races. 

And he’s only been caught once.

You slip inside just as he starts the engine. The radio comes alive, the sound of Jimi Hendrix enough to rival the roar of the motor as places one hand on the back of your seat in order to look behind him before he speeds away from the scene, hangs a sharp left, and takes off down the adjoining road. 

The sound of sirens follow. There’s a cop car on the next street over, attempting to chase after him as Harry weaves in and out between the scarce traffic. He’s good—incredibly good—but they haven’t given up yet. 

They cross over and skid behind him. They’re getting closer and the red and blue lights are bright in the rearview mirror. Still, Harry is calm. Simply shifting gears with ease as the car accelerates and offers a bit more distance before he takes a last-minute right in order to shake them.

The force of the turn slings you against the side of the door and you huff as Harry shoots you a cheeky grin.

“Sorry, baby,” he calls over the music. “You all right?”

With a grimace, you nod and say, “Mhm. Just great.”

He winks before he’s blowing through one red light and then another. Somehow missing the few cars currently crossing the street while the police are forced to slam on their brakes as somebody passes. And once they lose sight of him, he veers into an old, abandoned alley to hide.

Seconds pass before they finally fly by. Oblivious to his plan as they head further into town while Harry takes another right and disappears from the city.

He cheers victoriously and rolls down the windows and you laugh as you gaze at him. Entranced by the way he nods his head to the music as a gentle, summer breeze blows through his curls. 

Freedom tastes better with him. Life is better with him. His hand on your thigh, squeezing, while he sings along to Jimi Hendrix and grins at the open stretch of road ahead of him.

You wouldn’t want to be anywhere else and he seems to bask in your admiration before he finally looks over.

“What do you say, Clover?” he says with a wicked gleam in his eye. “Wanna see what a hundred feels like?”

A bit hesitant, yet wildly curious, you nod. 

He reaches for your hand in order to help you across the car, and you crawl over the console until you can settle onto his lap. Once you’re snug over his thighs, his arms slip beside your middle to keep you safe while he holds onto the steering wheel, and you scoot back into his chest for support. 

And it feels good. Comfortable. Even though the car is going faster and faster with each passing second, you feel protected. You know he’d never let anything happen to you. And there’s hardly any danger out here, along the old, backroads away from the city and traffic.  

The needle on the dash rises higher and higher. 70…80…90. Harry’s grinning against your cheek as the wind dances across your skin. The moon is bright in the sky, illuminating the road even without headlights and it’s exhilarating. Limitless.

“How’s that, hm?” he whispers. He kisses your jaw before dropping his foot against the gas. “You sure you’re ready, sweetheart?”

You nod quickly and brace yourself in his hold. “Mhm.”

The car reaches 100 and it feels like flying. You laugh, giddy, and he grins. The straight stretch of empty street might as well be a runway and the faster you go, the lighter you feel. As though the tires will simply lift off the ground and carry you into the sky. 

He shifts gears and the car jolts forward as the needle jumps to 110. You gasp and squirm excitedly over his lap before he suddenly groans. The sound is low and strained and you recognize the lustful cadence almost immediately.

Amused, you bite the inside of your cheek. “You okay, H?”

He takes one hand from the wheel and places it on your thigh. Squeezing it once. Pointedly. “Don’t stop.”

You don’t. You squirm again, settling into the feel of the hardening bulge beneath your ass and he makes another noise that goes straight to your cunt.

Your lashes flutter. The world blurs and your heart races. Perhaps you shouldn’t be doing this while you’re going so fast but Harry is calm. He trusts himself and you trust him.

The needle rises.

“Harry,” you whisper and his knuckles go white against the steering wheel. “Harry, please—”

“What?” His mouth rests against your cheek and you whine. “What, Clover? What do you need?”

He wants to make you say it. Wants to hear the words on your tongue and you swallow thickly as you intertwine your fingers with his. “H…”

“What, baby girl?” He nips at your skin with his teeth. “M’I making you nervous?”

You nod and he chuckles. A dark, sadistic sound.

“Do you want me to stop?”

There’s a quiet moment of hesitation before you eventually shake your head. Of course you don’t. How could you?

“No?” He squeezes your leg, touch slowly slipping beneath the fabric of your skirt. “Good girl.”

The car begins to go faster. 115…118…120. The same speed he reached during the race and even if you knew it was fast, this feels infinitely faster.  

You gasp and clutch his hand. Terrified and enthralled all in the same moment. And even if you shouldn’t be, you feel insanely aroused. Legs squeezing together as he subtly bucks up into you.

The music is loud and the wind is loud and the sound of your heart pulsing in your ears is loud. 

And then…the needle drops. The car slows. The speedometer goes from 120 to 50 in only a few seconds, and you blink curiously before glancing back at him.

He says nothing. His expression is firm but stoic and it’s not until he pulls off the road and into the dirt that you understand.

He turns the car off, then pats your hip. “Get out.”

You swallow again and swing the door open. Crawling off his lap before obediently trailing your way to the front of the vehicle while he follows.

“Bend over.”

You do. The hood is warm but not hot and it’s almost inviting as you place your hands against the covering to brace yourself in wait.

“Let me see.”

Your breath catches as you move your fingers to the delicate panties beneath your skirt. You pull them down your quivering thighs and the summer air makes you shiver. You feel nervous under his gaze. Under the way he owns you. But it’s thrilling. Addictive. And it leaves no room for questioning as you drop your underwear to your ankles in the middle of the open desert. 

You hear him step closer. Feel his hand on your hip as he pulls the fabric of your outfit up in order to get a proper look. But he’s quiet. Almost too quiet, and you feel a touch warm as you wait for his remark.

“Have you been this wet all night, Clover?” he finally asks.

You nod once. “…yes.”

“Mm.” Another pause while his other hand begins to trail up the back of your leg, slowly pulling it open. “And when were you planning to tell me?”

“I…I figured you already knew.”

He hums and you can only imagine his smirk. “Is that right?”

“Yes.”

“Is that what you were waiting for, then? For me to do something about it?”

“…yes.”

The tip of his finger drags its way through your folds and the sudden sensation makes you whimper.

“Then why didn’t you ask, sweetheart?” His tone is soft but condescending and you make another noise as you attempt to glance back at him. “Uh-uh. Eyes down, Clove.”

With a huff, you drop your chin to your chest and anxiously wait for more.

“Why didn’t you ask?” he repeats. “Thought I taught you better than that.”

 When your only answer is a needy mewl, he lands his palm against your ass in a sharp smack.

“Speak,” he murmurs. “When I ask you a question, I expect you to use your words and answer me. Is that understood?”

“Yes…yes, I’m sorry.”

“So why didn’t you ask?”

“Was…nervous,” you admit, glancing off into the dark night to hide the shame in your expression. “Didn’t want to bother you.”

He steps closer and his touch becomes gentler. “You were nervous, baby girl?”

“Mm. Knew you were busy and…and didn’t wanna be greedy.”

“Oh, my sweet girl,” he exhales before he’s grabbing onto the cheeks of your ass to pull you open. Allowing him an even better view of the way you drip. “Can always be greedy with me, you know that? Don’t have to be nervous. All I wanna do is take care of you. My time is yours.”

You release a stuttered breath before your eyes fall shut. You love the way he touches you. The way he cares for you. The way he humiliates you, even out here where nobody can see. 

“Look at you,” he whispers and you feel yourself clench around nothing. “Look at how pretty your little hole is when it’s so empty.”

The pad of his thumb brushes through your folds and he ignores the way you gasp his name.

“Think I should fix that?” he asks. “Think I should fill you up? Make it better?”

“Yes,” you pant. “Yes, please—”

“D’you need me to stretch you open? Hm? Play with your little cunny till you’re coming all over my cock?”

The dirty words inside his gentle voice feel criminal. Your mind turns to mush and you can do nothing more than press your chest into the hood as you excitedly wiggle our ass further into his hand.

He laughs, amused by your desperation in a way that only pushes you further toward the endless edge. “Is that a yes, Clover?”

You nod quickly. Your cheek rubbing against the car until you finally—finally—hear the sound of his belt flicking undone. 

The metal clink is music to your ears and you release a deep moan at the thought of the leather against your skin. Of his cock as it brushes against your clit, mindlessly teasing you past the point of no return.

“Easy,” he says. “Give me your hands, sweetheart.”

Slowly, you pull your arms behind you until he captures them in his hand. He wraps the length of the belt around your wrists until he can securely bind them to the small of your back, and once your mobility is gone, you simper.

“There you go,” he coos. “You okay, honey?”

Another nod. “Yes.”

“Gonna tell me if it’s too much, yeah? If I hurt you?”

“Yes…”

“Know it’s a tight fit, baby, but m’gonna make it work. Promise.”

And this vow makes your heart thumb against the inside of your chest before you feel him disappear from behind you.

And then…his tongue.

He’s dropped into a crouch in order to taste you, fingers locked around your wrists to keep you still while his lips suck on your pussy. 

“H,” you inhale, already undone by his technique. “I…”

He says nothing but the noise of wet licking echoes between your ears. His other hand pushes your leg away, creating more room for his head as he mouths at you. He flicks your clit with the tip of his tongue and you steel yourself against the hood, almost as though to get away.

“Careful,” he warns again. He smacks your thigh. “M’having so much fun. Don’t ruin it.”

And you try to be good. Try to stay still so he can do with you as he pleases. But it becomes increasingly harder when he nips at your cunt like he means to feast on you. 

Your fingers wiggle about the air, desperate to grab him. To clutch onto his curls or yank on his arm. But he keeps you restrained, keeps you compliant. And you are nothing but a toy for him to play with now.

You hear the sounds of the world around you. The crickets, the owls, the flock of birds flying overhead. You’re reminded yet again that anybody could drive by, even out here in the middle of nowhere. They could find you, bent over the hood of a Lamborghini as you get tongue fucked by the handsome man on his knees.

And yet…you don’t care. In fact, you almost hope somebody does pass. Because you know Harry wouldn’t stop even if they did. He’d keep going until you were unraveling in his hands as you whimpered his name.

As if to prove this, he adds a finger in beside his devious lips. “Gotta make sure you can take me,” he says in a low grunt. “S’too tight in here, Clove. Don’t think I’ll fit.”

You whine louder and angle your ass closer. Desperate to get his finger in as far as it’ll go. “I’ll take it,” you promise. “I will. Always do.”

“Always do,” he repeats in a soft chuckle. “That’s right, you do. Treat my cock right, don’t you, sweetheart?”

Nearly purring, you allow the subtle thrust of his hand to drag you closer to that blinding pleasure. 

“Do anything I ask. Even have my babies, wouldn’t you?”

The thought nearly does you in. Your tummy all swollen and full of him. Tits leaking milk that he’d eagerly lap up. The way he’d still treat your body like a temple. A prize to behold. Because you were carrying what he gave you. He fucked you so hard and so deep that you became a vessel for him. 

And even past that, you’ve always wanted to be a mother. Always wanted to start a family with him because you know he’d be a wonderful father. He’d take them to races and hold them on his shoulders so they could watch. He’d kiss all over their little cheeks and tuck them into bed. And your kids would know nothing but love. Because they’d look up to the two of you.

It makes you smile.

“What do you say, hm?” he whispers between kitten licks to your pussy. “You wanna have my babies? Wanna make me a daddy?”

He adds a second finger and begins to scissor them almost immediately until you cry out. Loud enough to startle a bird from a nearby branch and this proves to be answer enough for him.

“Okay,” he decides. “Okay, I’ll fuck your little pussy and get it all nice and full. Give you all I’ve got. And you’ll take it, won’t you? Hold it in your little belly like a good mama.”

You cum. Suddenly and without warning as the intensity of the orgasm explodes behind your eyelids like stars in the sky. You cum and you don’t get a chance to warn him or prepare or even hold off as you feel yourself drip down his hand. 

“God, H,” you moan. You sound pitiful. Voice hoarse from the way you’ve been wailing and arms sore from the way he keeps them behind you. Still, you don’t mind. The pain is pleasure in and of itself. “I…m’so…”

“Yeah.” He stands up and tugs his pants down. “I know, baby. I am, too.”

The tip of his cock drags through your soaked and sensitive pussy before he pushes in. He’s right, it is a tight fit. Even with the way you attempt to relax your muscles and draw him in. But it’s always snug with him and truth be told, you almost prefer it this way.

“There you go,” he breathes, dipping down to kiss your shoulder before drawing back his hips. “Just like that. Fucking hell, Clove, I wish you could see. Wish you could fucking see the way you look taking me right now.”

You wish you could, too. As it is, the feeling is enough to make your eyes roll back and send sparks of electricity up the length of your spine.

He keeps your wrists in his hand as he fucks into you. Sharp thrusts that sound sloppy and uncoordinated but feel like heaven. And there’s an urgency here. A desolate need to feel you unravel. He cares for you and he uses you all with the same technique. 

He grabs your leg and forces it up onto the hood. Giving him more room and a deeper angle just to hear you moan. And you hate that you can’t see him. Because you know how pretty he looks when he’s in control. His adrenaline high and his eyes alive with the possibilities of what he could do to you.

Instead, you choose to imagine. The way a few rogue curls must be sweeping across his forehead, unable to stay constrained beneath the sticky gel he likes to put in his hair. His chest is probably heaving, offering peeks of his tattoos beneath the white shirt clinging to his sweaty torso. His thighs will be flexing with each thrust. The muscles rippling in such a way that would surely make you drool. 

You understand why every woman you pass on the street tends to fawn over him. You know they’d do anything to take him home. Cook for him, clean for him, be good for him. Anything to earn his affection.

But you also know, his affection belongs to you. You’ve seen it, time and time again. He doesn’t even glance their way. He doesn’t notice when they giggle over him or when they try to call to him with their eyes. 

Because his eyes are always on you.

“You’re beautiful,” you hear him whisper. It’s soft—restrained. Almost as though he doesn’t mean for you to hear it. But you do and you nearly sink into the car in bliss. “Fucking hell, sweetheart. You’re perfect.”

A fervent heat rushes through your body from his praise and subsequently has you clenching around him. The feeling makes him groan and you’re proud of the way you can still care for him. Even if you can’t see him. Even if he’s the one with all the power.

“This sweet little pussy takes such good care of me,” he says and reaches around your tummy in order to press his palm against the subtle bulge there. “Every…fucking…time.”

You careen forward, cheek squished into the hood, skin dewy from the way your body shakes with pleasure. It’s always this close and somehow, he keeps you there. As though reminding you not to cum until he says so.

The hand on your stomach moves down until his fingers find your sensitive clit. He rubs and he plucks and he plays with your body with the same precision and skill he uses when he drives. Because no matter how much he loves to race, he loves you more. And winning you will always be infinitely better than winning some goddamn race.

“What do you say, hm?” he mumbles from behind you, rubbing the swollen nerves while pistoning his hips to yours. Dragging you closer and closer and closer. “You gonna cum for me? Gonna let me feel it?”

You nod and when you start to waver over that edge, he chuckles.

“Okay,” he agrees. “Okay, baby, cum.”

You do. Again. Harder this time. Louder. It’s almost cruel how easily your body breaks beneath him but before you can indulge in the feel of the way he follows…he’s pulling out. 

He guides you away from the hood and turns you both around. He sits in the spot you once were and he lets you see him. Because this is what you needed. The intimacy, the eye-contact. The beautiful look on his face.

He guides you closer with his hold on your bound wrists before pulling you onto his lap as best he can. He helps you place one leg back on the hood while his other hand moves to guide his cock between your overstimulated folds. Then, he brushes his swollen tip through, just to tease himself, before he’s pushing in.

And you can see him now. Can see the fucked-out expression on his face. The way his vision becomes hazy and his teeth grit together in ecstasy. 

You whimper, whine, cry out. You want to hold him. Want to wrap your arms around his neck and curl yourself into his beautiful, broad chest. 

But you can’t this time. In fact, he uses his grip on the belt to help roll you over his cock. A soft smile on his face as he whispers, “Just one more, sweetheart. Give me one more.”

He’s insatiable and greedy and you love it. Because you’d fuck yourself on his cock for the rest of time if you could. Even out here in the open.

“Wanna watch,” he whispers, then slips his other hand around the back of your neck to bring you down for a kiss. “Wanna watch the way I fill you all full of my babies.”

You make a rather pitiful noise against his mouth and he smirks. 

“You want that, too, don’t you, Clove?”

You nod, although you imagine it should be obvious. You’d do anything for him. 

“This little pussy was made to have my babies, wasn’t it?” he says and kisses the corner of your lips before moving down your neck. “Just made to be fucked by me. Perfect tummy to carry my kids. You’ll be so good, mama. Know you will.”

Your lashes flutter shut. The nickname breeds something new in your chest, a blossoming sort of urgency that almost makes it hard to breathe.

“Harry,” you plead. You nudge your nose against his temple. “Harry, please—”

“Shh.” His voice is soft. Still mischievous but kind. “I’ve got you. Yeah? M’right here. Just let me take care of you.”

And he does. He moves his hand from your neck to your shirt, slipping underneath until he can find your tits and give them a squeeze. 

“There you go,” he coos. “Oh, baby girl. Do anything for you, you know that? Just to keep you.”

He moves from your chest to your clit, and you know the second his fingers make contact, you’ll be gone. You squirm in anticipation, and he grins against your cheek before kissing you hard. Tongues and teeth colliding as he sucks on your lip and murmurs, “Can I cum in your pretty pussy, mama? Will you let me? Please?”

You nod so quick and so hard, your head aches. But it doesn’t matter because nothing else will ever compare to the feel of his hand on your body and his cock in your cunt. Releasing the warm, sticky offering that means infinitely more now than it did before.

He thrusts up into you a time or two, milking himself with your pussy before he drops back down and pulls you with him.

You’re both panting. Heavy, hard. Depleted of all energy as he holds you as close to his heart as he can.

Eventually, he frees you, tugging on the belt with one, easy pull as it comes loose from around your wrists. And the moment your arms are returned to you, you use them to grab onto his shoulders and bury yourself in his embrace.

He laughs. A delicate sound that makes you feel just as warm as his cock does. And you stay there for as long as you can until he finally nips at your earlobe and says, “Need to get you home, Clove. Don’t want you to get cold out here.”

“M’not cold,” you pout. “And we can’t leave until it works.”

“Until what works?”

You look down and he looks, too.

Then, he grins. A big, giddy grin that’s all teeth and dimples. “Oh,” he murmurs. “Can’t leave until you’re pregnant, huh?”

“Mhm.”

“I see.” He squeezes your hips and kisses your neck. “Gonna have to hold me in there, aren’t you? Keep me all snug?”

“Mhm.”

“All right, mama,” he says and you giggle. “We’ll stay until you’re all nice and pregnant. And then I’m gonna take you home and fuck you again. Just to make sure.”

Your stomach flips.

“S’that sound good, Clover?” he asks, and you bring your eyes to his in order to see him fully.

You smile.

“That sounds perfect, Daddy.”

For a more immersive experience, feel free to play All Along the Watchtower by Jimi Hendrix during the chase hehe

Beautiful divider by @firefly-graphics 💞

Taglist: @walkingintheheartbreaksatellite @keepdrivingkisses @swiftmendeshoran @tiredinwinter @straightontilmornin @justlemmeadoreyou @harrysdaydreams @tiaamberxx @myfavfanficsever @littlenatilda @vamprry @fdl305 @ssaama @indierockgirrl @likeapplejuicenpeach @lukesaprince @closureesny @lc-fics @0nlythrowharrybeaux @hannahdressedasabanana @dylanobandposts21 @butdaddyilovehim-hs @floral-recs @itjustkindahappenedreally @samanddeaninatrenchcoat

[sexilene]

thinking about rafe, topper, and kelce, helping to teach you how to drive….

you were about to be gifted a pretty new car for your birthday but you still didn’t know how to drive so the boys said they’d help teach you! you stood in the shade picking at your nails as the boys planned an easy enough route for you to practice on without hitting anything or anyone. 

“can we get going pleaseee, you guys can trust me- i read a car manual once, i know how things work….”

“fine, we should be alright i guess…” rafe mumbles as he opens the drivers side car door for you to hop in, he sticks out his hand for you to grab to help you climb into his truck. with rafe in the passenger seat next you, top and kelce in the back you put on the seat belt and place your hands onto the steering wheel to wait for instructions. 

“i can’t believe you are lettin' her use your car man.” kelce shakes his head with wide eyes 

“it’s better than lettin’er practice in one of yours, mine the safest one if anything were to happen.” rafe turns his head back to you “j’us don’t crash…kay?”

“mmhm…how do i start?”

rafe, with his tendency to stress easily, guiding you through the basics of starting the car and adjusting the mirrors. his hands grip on the steering wheel as he instructs you like a child to put your foot on the brake pedal.

"kay, slow and steady now babydoll" rafe says, his voice stern yet soft, letting go of the wheel so you could try keeping it straight. "we don't want to accelerate too quickly, jus' easeee onto the gas...not too much!" you press down on the pedal with your foot as the car moves forward a few inches then breaks suddenly causing everyone in the car to jolt forward. 

“jesus!!…” topper breathes out, both him and kelce then grip onto the handles on the inside roof of the car.

"oh god, i'm sorry!" you wince

“s’alright s’fine just try- try again…” topper encourages as you place your foot back on the gas pedal again

slowly you start to get the hang of it, cruising slowly down the street at a decent pace, everyone seems to be relaxed as you are gaining confidence behind the wheel. then your phone starts to ring, you look down to were you set it down near the cup-holders which causes you to lose a little control of where you are going and makes the car swerve slightly and speed up. 

“EYES ON THE ROAD!” they all shout boyishly, panicked and clearly stressed. rafe’s hand flies out in front of you to emphasize its importance.

“that might be kie, can i get it?” 

“NO!!!” they all shout again

“jeez, ohkay!”

kelce mutters little prayers under his breath "please, let us survive this.” you let out a nervous yelp when up ahead you see a squirrel just chilling in the middle of the road.

“what do i do!”

“JUST SLOW DOWN!” “EYES ON THE ROAD!” the boys shout overlapping their panicked voices, you scream and squeeze your eyes shut and turn your head away.

“NO HEY! DON’T CLOSE YOUR EYES WHAT ARE YOU CRAZY!?” rafe shouts all rambly

“ohkay!” you hit the breaks just before the squirrel scampers off up a tree.

“ALRIGHT OUT.” rafe commands, pushing his hair back out of his face, then unbuckling you. “I’m driving the way back, switch.”

as rafe gets out of the passenger seat and rounds the hood of the car to get into the driver seat as you climb over the armrests to get to your new seat. 

“jesus kid…you know what?...you wanna go somewhere in your new car? call me and i’ll take you wherever you wanna go….s’dangerous havin' you out on the roads like this.” rafe huffs as he starts the car again.

“we almost died!” topper lets scoff almost in disbelief at how things took a turn.

“I got slightly distracted! wasn’my fault.”

i luvvvv the kook trio

[dear-ao3]

Sorry i tried to scroll past but, i know nothing about f1 other than max verstappen is fast, my dad doesnt like lewis hamilton, fast car goes in a loop and sometimes expodes. Could you give me a crash course in f1 drama? Im very intrigued. Whats the tea as it were?

a terribly loaded question, but i will do my best. i’ve talked about some of the drama before like the red bull second seat and the chronicles of haas but allow me to briefly try my hand at explaining the nightmare that is the upcoming silly season

under the cut we go

silly season is when the drivers go through contract renewals, extensions and switches. usually it’s confined to the first half of the season (march-july) but it has been known to extend all the way to the last race of the season and they like to switch people around at random sometimes. driver contracts are complex, there’s a lot of money involved and basically You Are The Face Of The Team so if you have a shit season then you make the team look bad. but at the same time you could have a shit season because you have a shit car. it’s sticky stuff.

so. there are only twenty seats in formula 1. 10 teams. each team gets two drivers. (there’s also reserve drivers but we’re not going to get into that). who ends up with a contract is largely up to the teams, they can pull the contract out from under people they can also cut you mid season. they’ve done it before.

of the 20 drivers on the grid, 14 of them have contracts expiring at the end of the year. yes. 14. you see how this could get complicated.

so let’s meet the teams.

red bull racing. they came first this year (and last year) in the championship. like aggressively first. like they won the championship by over 350 points. they are definitely the team to beat. but if you end up with a seat at red bull, you do have to deal with max verstappen being your teammate and he won all but three of the races last year. he’s the golden boy. red bull are also notoriously silly when it comes to contracts and famously swap people mid season who aren’t performing.

mercedes. merc is home to 7 time world champion lewis hamilton and they have won the championship a great many times, though not since 2021. they are kind of in their flop arc and their car the last 2 years has been pretty garbage, but they have still made it work because they were able to come in second last year.

ferrari. god help the poor little meow meows with a ferrari contract. ferrari is a notoriously great team and they’re trying to get back to the top again but their strategy every single time has fallen short. to the point where their drivers are the ones doing the strategy in their cars while driving. they came in third last year and have been decently consistent at getting first in qualifying and then getting beat by max verstappen on race day.

mclaren. they’ve definitely worked their way up over recent years. they ended fourth last year and have had some championship wins before but not nearly as many as say merc and ferrari. their team ceo (owner? director?) is a little interesting and their car started out a pile of flaming hot garbage at the beginning of the year but they did manage to get their shit together.

aston martin. they are owned by canadian billionaire lawrence stroll, father of lance stroll (one of the drivers for the team). they’ve undergone several name changes over the recent years (force india, racing point, etc). they positively slayed at the start of the season and then one day they sucked. they finished fifth in the championship.

alpine. the frenchest french team. they’re (i think?) still partially owned by the french government. both of their drivers are french. (their drivers also hate eachother but we’ll get to that. just know they’re in the middle of a modern french civil war). they had the opportunity to have a good rookie driver (oscar piastri) this past year but in a thrilling twitter battle, he publically flamed the shit out of them and went to mclaren instead (and slayed). they're usually solidly middle of the pack. they ended sixth in the championship.

williams. williams has been one of the back of the grid teams for the last many years but they have finally started to get their shit together and don’t quite suck as much as they used to. all of the points this year were scored by only one driver though (except one but we’ll get there). they came in seventh.

alpha tauri. they are the sister team of red bull. so technically redbull owns both teams (meaning they can swap drivers between teams. they like doing this.) they’ve just kind of been There for awhile but they did slay towards the end of the season when one of their drivers led the race for several laps. basically tho, this team is the gateway to redbull. they came in eighth.

alpha romeo. recently renamed to stake f1 team (but sometimes they are going to be called kick sauber. this is a whole other drama post and i’m not getting into it). they’re also just kind of there. generally unproblematic. seems that really great drivers who get ixed out of a contract for a younger driver end up here or young drivers who are in their early years are here before they go to a better team. they ended ninth this year.

haas. oh haas. goofy team. they suck. point blank they suck. they keep loosing sponsors because they suck, they don’t win ever (one time they came first in qualifying last year). they cursed themselves in australia in 2018 by not tightening their tires and its been downhill ever since. they came 10th. their team principle got let go (fired?) who’s to say today.

so those are the teams. it is important to note that:

-there is a cost cap. each team is allowed to spend no more than 135m per year.

-not all cars are equal. some things are standard. they all undergo the same testing. but the cars are all very different. so you can be a good driver but stuck in a shitty car. which makes it impressive if you are doing well in a shitty car.

let’s meet our drivers!!!

starting with the guys who’s contract is not ending in 2024:

max verstappen. 3 time world champion. 26 years old. general beast on the track. he dominated the whole season. he’s currently racing for red bull and has a contract with them through 2028.

lewis hamilton. 7 time world champion. 39 years old. he drives for mercedes. he will not leave mercedes until he retires. he really really wants to win an 8th world championship and is willing to stick it out a few more years as long as merc still believes in him. his contract expires in 2025.

george russell. the other merc driver. 26 years old. hes aggressively british and says thinks like blimey unironically. walking meme. got his merc seat in 2022 right when they entered their flop arc by getting his tractor of a williams to finish second in qualifying in the middle of a rainstorm. his contract expires in 2025.

lando norris. mclaren driver. 24 years old. he has notably never won a race in his five years of formula one (mostly because right when his car finally was good enough max verstappen was 20 seconds ahead of anyone) but he is regarded as Very Good. he has only ever driven for mclaren. and even though there is another year left on his contract there is mass speculation that he will not renew his contract with mclaren after it expires and he may move up to one of the top teams (red bull, merc, ferrari) (tho i think he doesnt hate himself quite enough to go to ferrari). his contract expires in 2025.

oscar piastri. the other mclaren driver. 22 years old. this was his rookie season and he positively slayed. like people compared his rookie season to lewis hamiltons rookie season. he also had the positively funniest start to his rookie year because alpine announced that he would be driving for them (he had been their reserve driver and in the alpine academy) and he posted a tweet that basically said yeah thats false i never singed anything with you and im going to race with mclaren instead (he dodged a bullet) and then alpine tried and failed to sue him for $4m USD. he signed a contract extension with mclaren this year and his contract expires in 2026.

lance stroll. aston martin driver and son of the aston martin owner. hes doing ok, tho there was conspiracy that he wanted to quit and have a tennis career awhile ago. but basically since his dad owns the team it seems that hes guaranteed a seat for as long as he wants one.

so now. moving onto the good shit. the people who have contracts expiring in 2024. hold onto your hats people.

charles leclerc. (everyones favorite slutty little soup can). 26 years old. he is currently at ferrari and he has been since 2019. notably, he was given the longest contract in the history of ferrari after a stellar rookie season at sauber (renamed to alpha romeo, renamed to stake f1) where he got the tractor of a car consistently into the points. having the longest contract in the history of ferrari was a flex at the time, but now its likely how he will introduce himself at therapy sessions. ferrari have fucked this man left right and center up the ass with a plastic lunchroom spork. hes talented, he can drive, and he can drive well. but the strategy that ferrari has absolutely sucks. either something is wrong with the car (see him blowing out his gear box on the formation lap in monaco, his car completely crapping out and spinning into the barrier in brazil before the race even started) or they fuck up his pit stops or put him on the wrong tires and honestly its just frustrating. but will he leave??? likely not. you'd have to pry ferrari out of his cold dead hands and at this rate that might be where this is headed though there has been some minor speculation of him going to another team like merc or red bull, but merc doesnt have any open seats and red bull is a whole other dumpster fire of drama. ferrari are going to have to pay him a boatload of money to make him stay.

carlos sainz. the smooth operator. 29 years old. ferrari driver. previously carlos was at toro rosso (renamed to alpha tauri), renault (renamed to alpine), and mclaren before signing with ferrari. he has been at ferrari since 2021 and has voiced that he would like to stay with them for however long he can. there is speculation that lando might replace him at ferrari (but landos contract is not up until 2025) and there is also some speculation that alex albon might replace him. while charles is clearly the golden boy at ferrari, carlos is slightly slower but also definitely consistent. he was THE ONLY non red bull driver to win a race this past year, in Singapore after max verstappedn was knocked out of qualifying by alpha tauri reserve driver liam lawson (more on him later) and because he basically came up with his own strategy in the car while he was driving.

sergio perez. aka checo. red bull driver. 33 years old. and oh boy here's where we open the can of worms. checo was previously at racing point (renamed aston martin) and it was very near the end of the 2020 (?) season and he was out of a contract. he had a bonkers race where he was knocked to the back of the grid and then overtook everyone and somehow ended up winning (there is more to that story but just trust me) and christian horner, red bull team principle, mr ginger spice and definite disney villain called him and said congrats sir you have a seat at red bull! well. fast forward. hes been causing problems. problems as in crashing a lot, generally not doing great and pissing the crap out of red bull. it is basically guaranteed at this point that he will not be getting a contract extension. there was actually talk this year of him losing his seat mid season to one of the alpha tauri drivers, because remember, red bull owns both teams and they can switch them whenever they want to (and they have!) but ultimately this did not happen. even though checo has a seat at red bull until the end of 2024, its mass speculated that he is going to get switched with an alpha tauri driver, probably daniel ricciardo (more on him shortly) mid season because there is a speculated clause in daniels contract that says that if checo isn't performing well in the first few races daniel is getting his seat.

daniel ricciardo. 34 years old. alpha tauri driver. man oh man what a guy. outside of being the prankster of the paddock, he has one of the most batshit careers of anyone currently on the grid. he started out at red bull and was showing real talent and skill and was on track to win things (and was!) and was there until the end of 2018 when max verstappen (his teammate) started getting preferential treatment and also red bull started having a lot of problems with their engines (which were being outsourced from Renault (now alpine) and another team on the grid) and well very very long story short he made the surprise move of the century and decided to sign with Renault (which makes no sense they're the one with the engine problems) and was there for 2 years before moving again to mclaren where he was reportedly not treated very well and had a hard time driving the car so they mutually ended his contract with them early and he basically retired at the end of the 2022 season and became a red bull reserve driver. then halfway through the 2023 season alpha tauri ixed one of their drivers, nyck de vries, because he wasnt doing well and promoted daniel back up to a full time driver at alpha tauri (which we know is only a step down from red bull) but then he broke his hand in a crash in zanvort (?) and then he was replaced for a few races by formula 2 driver liam lawson (who we will also talk about) and then he came back to finish out the season in alpha tauri after he was cleared. daniel has admitted openly that he never should have left red bull and he was given bad advice to do so. hes towards the end of his career at this point and its well known that he Really Really wants to finish out his career at red bull again. he and max have already been teammates before and they do work well together and daniel is great driver (see his comeback in texas (or maybe it was brazil?) this year). so. Pretty Sure that daniels going to get either an extension at alpha tauri or go up to red bull. thats what we all want. get this man in a red bull we need him there biblically.

liam lawson. now technically liam is not actually a formula 1 driver. hes a formula 2 driver, but he was daniels replacement for five races and there has been some speculation and some confirmed news about him so hes getting included. when he was racing for f1 he was at alpha tauri. hes 21 and looks like he belongs in the movie grease. no one was expecting him to slay in formula 1 and he positively knocked everyones socks off. the scene: Singapore. which, if you'll recall, is the one race that a not red bull driver won. this was largely because liam lawson slayed the absolute game in qualifying. the qualifying part of racing determines what order the cars start in on the grid for the race and theres three parts, the first two parts the bottom 5 drivers each time get knocked out and then the top 10 complete for the last 10 spots. liam lawson knocked BOTH max verstappen and checo perez out of qualifying in the second round by going very slightly faster than them, effectively fucking up red bulls race and allowing carlos to win. and he also scored points in that race, which no one was expecting. now thats all fine and dandy, but here's the speculation: hemlut marko (im pretty sure) (who is somehow decently involved in the decision making at red bull though i couldn't tell you how) said that he thinks that liam lawson will be in an f1 seat no later than 2025. meaning that he will probably get offered a contract this year. and hes already raced for alpha tauri. red bull have sunk a good amount of money into him. they clearly want him. so if he gets offered an alpha tauri seat in 2025, that means theres a good chance danny rics is going to red bull. do you SEE how the plot here is THICKENED

yuki tsunoda. age 23. currently at alpha tauri. and fun fact, the only alpha tauri driver to race there the whole year. he had three separate team mates. he is slaying and hes often slept on. he has a bit of a temper and likes to shout on the radio and also hates working out (they had to force him to move to italy or something to work out, long story) but hes been kinda killing it. he led several laps in the abu dhabi race this year and hes decently consistent. people think theres possibility that he could get moved up to red bull on account of the fact that he is younger than daniel and clearly has more years in him,, but there is also possibility that he might not because red bull like to make stupid decisions. and if he doesnt get moved up to rebel, will he stay with alpha tauri? we don't know.

alex albon. age 27. currently a williams driver. alex albon is another one with a batshit career. he started out his rookie year in 2019 at alpha tauri then got moved up to red bull halfway through the year when red bull decided that pierre gasley wasnt doing a good enough job (more on him later) and stayed with red bull for a solid year and a half until he lost his seat in 2021 to checo. he has been with williams for the last two years and is basically carrying the team. like. williams as a team scored 28 points this year. and alex albon scored 27 of those 28 points. and as we know, williams is still kind of in their shit arc (though they are doing much better. they didnt score any points for a solid 2 (?) years. so this is an improvement.) and if you can get a shit car to perform you catch the eye of bigger teams. now, alex has already been a red bull driver. and he was on the cusp of podiuming two separate times when lewis hamilton ran into him. this (among a few other things) basically killed his chances at getting resigned at red bull because he wasnt ""performing"" and red bull are bitches who love to win. but some people think that red bull should give him another shot. like daniel, hes already been max's teammate and he can definitely drive. but theres also talk he might go to ferrari because ferrari think that he might compliment charles's driving style (or something). but going to ferrari at this point is kind of suicide. so.

logan sergeant. age 23. the only american on the grid. the other williams driver. he just finished his rookie year. he scored a grand total of one single point this season, in texas, and it was because charles leclerc and lewis hamilton both got disqualified because the floor of their car had more wear (by literally less than millimeters) than it was allowed to, bumping him up from 12th to 10th. he has never done better than alex albon. he was also the very last driver to get a contract for 2024, with williams waiting until i think december of 2023 to announce his contract extension. clearly, hes on thin ice. but people have also said that he needs time to get used to formula 1 (other people have pointed out that oscar piastri slayed his rookie season this year and this statement about needing time is largely false). where logan ends up next year though will largely depend on how well the 2024 season goes for him.

fernando alonso. 42 years old. many people like to point out that oscar piastri is actually younger than fernando's racing career. he won tiktok creator of the year (somehow) and is also a 2 time world champion. he retired a few years ago, just to show back up again and slay. during the first half of the season when aston martin had a zoom zoom car he killed it, and then they had problems on top of problems and he didnt do well. except for that one race in brazil where he came in third, beating checo by literally .05 seconds. he hasn't really made any hints about retiring a second time and he is kind of carrying aston Martin right now (he scored 205 points this season, coming in 4th and tying in points with charles leclerc, lance stroll only scored 74 points this year.) and they did have their best year yet this year. (though they are relatively new).

pierre gasley. 27 years old. french. drives for alpine. the french team. previously he raced with toro rosso (now alpha tauri), then got promoted to a red bull driver in 2019, then halfway through the season they decided he wasnt doing a good enough job and he got demoted back down to alpha tauri. then he won a race with alpha tauri just to stick it to red bull. after the great oscar piastri contract twitter war, he was signed as alpines second driver, with Esteban ocon being the other driver (more on him soon). estie bestie and pierre (both french) were childhood friends and now hate each other for unknown reasons and basically feuded on the track for most of the season. french civil war at alpine. he scored 62 points in 2023 and came in 11th. not really sure where he will end up, it is possible that he will stick it out at alpine.

esteban ocon. 27 years old. also french. currently driving for alpine. another one with a silly bonkers career. he started out at force india and had a baller few seasons there but his teammate at the time was checo, and checo didnt really cooperate with him too much and caused some drama that cost estie bestie some places and some points. max verstappen also beat him up in the garage once. thats not really relevant but it did happen. anyway, after the owner of force india was arrested for .... i don't remember what maybe it was embezzlement or bankruptcy or something money related, the team was backed by lawrence stroll and became racing point. but all of that happened mid season and lawrence was basically like look ill back you guys for now but next year my son gets a seat (lance) so one of you two (checo and estie bestie) have to go. and ultimately they let estie bestie go even though he was more consistent because checo had more sponsors and they needed money. so he was out of formula 1 for a few years (but was a merc reserve driver) and then went to Renault, which then became alpine. he did come in 12th though overall this season, just behind pierre. so. will alpine keep both him and pierre and keep the civil war going? whos to say.

nico hulkenberg. 36 years old. haas driver. in his 200+ f1 races he has never been on the podium and he really really wants to be on the podium. unfortunately this will never happen in a haas because haas fucking sucks. and everyone knows it. he is getting towards the end of his career though. though! stake f1 will become the mario Andretti and audi team in 2026 (don't question it) and they have supposedly voiced interest in nico. so we will see if he hangs on that long to end up at audi. for now tough, hes definitely hating it at haas. though, haas are going to have a different team principle next year so maybe that will change things. i have a sneaky feeling through that haas will probably end up with another 2 rookie drivers because everyone else is smart enough to not race for them.

kevin magnussen. 31 years old. haas driver. hes another deeply interesting character. he has had one podium. in his rookie season. in his first race. and none since. kevin started at haas in 2017 and then left at then end of 2020 when he basically got kicked off because the team needed money and they wanted to bring in drivers with more sponsorships. these drivers were mick schumacher and nikita mazepin. so kevin basically was forced to retire after the 2020 season. this went decently well for haas. until russia invaded ukraine right before the start of the 2022 season and, well, nikita was Russian and it was never distinctly proven that his dads company (who was sponsoring the team) wasnt also funding the invasion. so nikita got fired and they were literally like 2 weeks out from the start of the season, down a driver. who are you gonna call? kevin magnussen! and hes been back ever since. but hes clearly getting annoyed with haas. there was one great clip from this year where his car caught on fire and he kind of just stared into to, clearly hoping it would burn for a long time. so the likelihood of him extending his contract is looking slim.

valtteri bottas. 34 years old. currently a driver for stake f1 (alpha romeo, kick sauber, whatever you wanna call it). previously, he was a mercedes driver and notoriously helped lewis hamilton win a great many championships, until he lost his seat to george russell in 2022. there was a rather awkward part of the 2021 season where valtteri knew that he was out of a merc seat the following year and kind of just chose violence. he slayed. then he went to alpha romeo, grew a mullet and made a calendar of his ass. quite the glow up if you ask me. hes also very interested in cycling. honestly though, i have my own personal speculation that hes going to retire at the end of this year.

zhou guanyu. 24 years old. driver for stake f1 (alpha romeo/kick sauber, etc etc). hes doing alright. he just finished his second season, in his first season he was majorly out qualified by valtteri but this past season he managed to out qualify him a good 6 times. which is decently good for the tractor of a car hes driving. its possible that he could get a contract extension, but like logan, its probably going to depend on how the 2024 season goes for him.

and thats all the drivers. theres also a few others i didnt talk about, like some other f2 drivers who want seats and mick schumacher, who is currently a merc reserve driver, all of which could be contenders for f1 seats. but one things for sure. this is going to be the silliest fucking silly season.

feel free to add on and peer review me

[coldfanbou]

Driving Her Crazy

A small road trip with Yubin and a little spicy time in the car because of her.

length 2K

Yubin X Mreader

It was 4 pm. If all went well, you’d be at your destination for the perfect view. You shut the car door and start the engine, listening to it roar. You look over at Yubin. “Ready?” 

“Ready,” she responds,  a toothy grin on her face.

“Alright, get comfortable. We’ll be driving for 12 hours and won’t make many stops.” you remind her before leaving your home and beginning your road trip. Yubin was excited about traveling with you around the northwestern part of the US. She was more than excited after you told her of the sight there. The first part of your plan was to get to your mountain resort so you could show Yubin how to snowboard. The first hour went by fast, and you both quickly grew tired of the drive, especially when you started thinking about how much longer you had. 

“You know, when you said 12 hours, I thought it wouldn’t feel like too long…I was wrong.” Yubin says as she stares out the window. 

“I told you it was going to be a long time, and unfortunately, there’s nothing of interest around here.”  

Yubin turns to you, her hands clinging to your arm. “Isn’t there something for us to do? I don’t think I’ll be able to last the entire ride in here doing nothing.” 

“I mean, you could take the wheel for a while if you want to.”

Yubin’s eyes sparkle with excitement. “Really? Can I?” she asks eagerly. You nod, and she quickly takes over the wheel. She adjusts the seat, inching it forward and raising it so she can see over the dashboard. “Let’s do this!” She exclaims, pressing the gas and causing the car to lurch forward. She looks at you with a sheepish grin. “Oops?” she chuckles. You can't help but roll your eyes and shake your head at her. 

Yubin purses her lips and lightly presses on the gas, slowly building up to the speed limit and driving along while you take your break. Yubin enjoys taking charge and following the directions you give her. Being in control of the drive there gives her a sense of purpose, but after about two hours, she tires of having to be focused. “I don’t  think I want to drive anymore.”

You chuckle, “But you said you wanted to drive earlier.”

“I take it back. Can you drive?” 

“Alright, let's pull over at the next exit. We’ll grab some snacks, and we can switch places.” Yubin accelerates, eager to switch roles as soon as possible. 

Stopping at a gas station, Yubin heads inside to get snacks for the rest of your drive while you fill-up the car. She finishes her shopping trip first, sneaking herself into the back seats and bringing them down to make an improvised bed. As she’s about to climb in, you tug at the straps of her shirt, “Not happening, get in the front.” Yubin pouts and gets in the front seat, huffing as she shuts the door.

Once you're done, you climb into the driver's seat and drive off, driving through heavily wooded areas as you contrive. The evening sky becomes dark as the thick canopy lets little light break through. Yubin spends time on her phone, switching between apps as she finds something to do. A sudden moan makes you jump, and you look over at Yubin; she has the face of someone caught watching something they shouldn’t be. “Really? Right now?”

“I have nothing to watch. I didn’t download any of my shows!” She shouts, 

“There are so many other things you can watch,” you shout back, trying to hold in your laughter. 

Yubin briefly quiets before whispering, “We haven’t done it all day.” 

“Is that what this is about?”

“Yes, you know I need to do it at least once.” 

You ruffle your hair. “We can’t really do it right now. I’m driving, and we have a schedule to stick to.” 

“At least let me have a taste; you can still drive while I do it.” You groan, knowing that Yubin would probably keep asking through the entire drive if you disagreed now.

“Alright, fine.” Yubin claps her hands before leaning over the center console. She unbuttons your jeans and pulls out your cock, licking her lips as she strokes it slowly.

“Come to mommy.” She whispers before kissing the tip, feeling it twitch against her lips. She smirks before moving down your shaft and planting soft kisses along it. You groan while trying to stay focused on driving. Luckily, no cars were around, so you had more room for errors. You looked down, watching Yubin’s head bob up and down as she used her tongue along the tip.

You felt her slowly building up to more, taking in more of your cock. You groan loudly as your cock hits the back of her throat. Yubin holds herself against your crotch, her tongue moving from side to side. You place one hand on Yubin’s head and push her down further, moaning her name as you feel her tighten her throat around your cock. “Shit,” you grunt, struggling to keep from cumming this instant. Yubin pulls away, smiling as she strokes your shaft.

“Cum for me; I want to taste it,” she whispers into your ear before dragging her tongue along it. Yubin kisses your cheek before swallowing your cock again, her lips forming a tight seal around your shaft as her tongue swirls around the head. You groan, your hips bucking instinctively as you try to keep control of the car. You feel Yubin hold you down as she continues to bob her head, hungry for something to eat. 

You roar as you cum inside her mouth. Yubin runs her hand along the base of your shaft, stroking you quickly in hopes of getting as much cum from you as possible. Her mouth quickly fills with your cum. She moans, enjoying the taste as it hits her tongue and swallowing as much as possible. Her cheeks hollow out as she sucks you dry, ensuring not a single drop escapes. She pulls back, licking her lips and smiling. “Ah! That was great,” She says, stretching her arms and leaning back in her seat. She glances at your lip cock, her eyes wandering up slowly until she reaches your face. “You know, I ought to thank you for driving the rest of the night. I have just the reward. You can use me anytime you want, anytime.” Yubin repeats. “I wouldn’t mind waking up with you inside me,” she says with a smirk as she adjusts herself in her seat. “Whatever you decide, I won’t mind,” Yubin shuts her eyes and smiles to herself as you continue driving. You pay her no mind continuing onward. 

Yubin falls asleep some hours later. You glance in her direction whenever she rolls from one side to the other. During one of her rolls, you notice that one of her straps has rolled down her shoulder, giving you a view of her cleavage. It makes your cock stir as you imagine her tits. The next time she rolls over, Yubin turns away from you, and you see her shorts have ridden up, showing off her plump ass. You’re hard and struggle to keep your eyes away from Yubin’s body. Her words ring in your mind now, “I wouldn’t mind waking up with you inside me.” It gnaws at you for a while before you decide to pull over, hiding yourself on the roadside. You move to Yubin’s side of the car and take her into the back, where she had made the backseats a bed. You place Yubin on her stomach and pull down her shorts. You stare at Yubin’s thong, debating whether you should continue before deciding that you should. You pull it down slowly, leaving them around her thighs. You stare at Yubin’s ass running your hands along it and squeezing it softly. You notice her wet cunt and move toward it, lifting her hips and moving your arm around her waist. You rub her cunt slowly, moving your fingers around her clit. You hear her breathing get heavier, and as you continue, you hear Yubin softly moan your name as she sleeps. You slip a finger inside her, feeling her warm walls squeeze your fingers as you stretch her out. Yubin’s breathing turns into soft moans as you toy with her. 

You can’t hold back any longer, though; you replace your finger with the real thing, pushing your cock inside Yubin slowly until you buried inside her. Yubin’s moans continue as you begin thrusting. You move slowly, trying not to wake Yubin. Your grip her waist gently and push your length inside her slippery cunt. You moan Yubin’s name as you move inside her. Her sleeping form turns you on more as she takes your cock easily. 

You feel her tighten around you, though, and it drives you mad. You try to keep your slow pace, but can’t you begin thrusting harder and faster, ramming your cock deep into Yubin’s cunt. Yubin begins to stir slowly, moans still flowing from her lips as she begins to realize what’s happening; a smile forms on her lips as she feels your cock knock against her womb. “Thanks for the wake-up, big boy.” She says, placing her hand over her stomach and feeling your cock move around inside her. The thought of you using her while she slept pushes Yubin to the edge, and after a few more thrusts, she cums on your cock, moaning loudly as her walls tighten around you.

You groan, feeling your climax approach. Flipping Yubin onto her back, you start thrusting into her again, wanting to watch her face as you cum inside her. You thrust wildly, Yubin’s cunt squeezing you as you flood her body with pleasure. Her moans become louder, and she wraps her legs and arms around you, forcing you deeper into her cunt. As you near your orgasm, Yubin’s walls begin to tighten around you again, and she screams, “I’m cumming!” her body begins to convulse as you bury yourself inside of her and flood her pussy with your cum. Yubin lets out a silent moan as her head tilts back; her body shakes as she feels your hot semen pour into her. Minutes pass as you remain buried inside her. You kiss Yubin softly, caressing her hair as you both cool off. You pull out of Yubin slowly, reach toward the front seats, grab a water bottle, and hand it to her. She sips the water as she remains lying on her back. “That felt great; my body is still tingling.”

“Yeah, it was really good,” you say, breathing heavily. You lean over and kiss Yubin's forehead, smiling at her. “Let’s rest for a few more minutes before we get going again. We need to get to our hotel on time. Yubin nods, and the two of you stay in the back for ten minutes before getting dressed.

You get back on the road and continue your drive. Yubin stays awake, keeping you company and chatting with you. There was about one more hour of driving left when she reached over and tried to fish your cock out of your pants. “Hey, not now.” You try to tell her, but Yubin argues back, eventually getting you to pull over. “It’s not safe, and we’ve already done enough.”

“You weren’t complaining when I was giving you a blowjob yesterday,” she retorts as she climbs over to your side, moving the seat back. She grabs your cock and slips it inside her cunt, moaning softly. “There we go,” she coos. “I want to get you ready for the hotel because I want you to fuck me silly when we get there.” 

“Ugh, fine,” you agree reluctantly. Yubin smiles and presses her ass against you, grinding on you as you drive the remaining hour. Each little bump on the road caused her to bounce on your cock, making her more hungry for what was to come at your hotel.

[bucketgetter535]

No Margin for Error: Chapter One

Paige Bueckers x Azzi Fudd

(Formula 1 AU)

CW: Language

WC: 3000 ish

Notes: Chapter one… Paige’s POV this time. Lmk what yall think

February 2025 - London, England

Paige adjusted the hem of her T-shirt again, for maybe the sixth time since she walked into the studio. It wasn’t even that it didn’t fit—it did, perfectly. It was just basic. Basic red. Just like her jeans. Just like her smile when the cameras started rolling and the guy with the clipboard asked her to take a seat on the little couch next to the champion of the world.

Azzi was already there, already comfortable. Elbow propped casually on the armrest, ankles crossed. She looked like she’d done this a hundred times because, well, she had. And not just media, either. Everything. Azzi Fudd had done everything.

The braids were new. Sleek, clean, symmetrical—probably done the week after the final race, maybe even the day after the championship party in The United Arab Emirates. Paige had watched the press conference replay from her hotel room that night, not because she cared (she told herself) but because it was on. Azzi had said something smooth and cool about “finishing strong” and “staying focused” and “rebuilding for next year.” It was the kind of thing people liked to hear. Paige barely heard it at all.

The producer called for quiet. Cameras rolled.

“Welcome back to a new Formula One season!” The host’s voice was all teeth and excitement, angled at the cameras and then at them. “Today we’re joined by Ferrari’s 2025 driver pairing—defending world champion Azzi Fudd, and the hottest new signing of the off-season, Paige Bueckers!”

They both smiled on cue. Paige’s smile was the kind that fit her face but didn’t go deep. Azzi’s didn’t move past her lips.

The host leaned forward, clasping her hands. “Let’s talk dynamics. Azzi, you’re heading into your fifth season, your fourth with Ferrari, and already a two-time world champ. What does it mean to welcome a young star like Paige into the garage?”

Azzi tilted her head slightly. She always tilted her head when she was being diplomatic. “It’s exciting,” she said smoothly. “Paige had an incredible rookie year. To do what she did in that car? You don’t see that often. She’s fast. Ferrari saw that. Now it’s about translating that into something bigger.”

“Which would be…?”

Azzi glanced sideways. “Winning. Obviously.”

Paige crossed her arms. Not defensive, not obviously. Just—settling in. There was something about Azzi’s voice. Not sharp. Not sweet. Just flatline calm. It made you feel like you were always reacting too much.

The host turned to her. “Paige, you were at Sauber last season. Huge contrast. What does it mean to now be wearing red? To be driving for Ferrari?”

“Means I can finally compete,” Paige said. Her voice stayed level. She was good at interviews. Always had been. “I learned a lot last year, but now I’m here to do more than survive on race day.”

“Teammates, but also rivals—”

“That’s how it is in this sport,” Azzi said, before the host could even finish. “Your teammate’s the only other person with your car. They’re your best benchmark. Your biggest challenge.”

Paige smiled again. “We’ll push each other.”

Azzi nodded once. “That’s the goal.”

There was a stretch of silence after that, one the host filled with a nervous laugh before switching gears. She asked about the new car’s handling, about winter training, about off-season habits. Paige answered cleanly. Azzi answered precisely. The two of them mirrored each other without meaning to—arms folded, then unfolded, hands on knees, then apart. At one point, Paige caught herself watching the way Azzi’s fingers tapped against her thigh. Left-right-left. Steady. Controlled.

She looked away before it could register as staring.

“You two hadn’t really crossed paths since your junior days until now,” the host said. “So I’m curious—first impressions?”

Azzi raised a brow, but let Paige go first.

“Talented,” Paige said. “Obviously. I mean, look at her resume.”

Azzi didn’t even blink.

“Looks like I’ve got some catching up to do.”

That earned her a tight smile from Azzi. “I’ve watched her race,” Azzi said. “She’s not here to just fill a seat. She’s aggressive. I like that.”

There was something in the way she said it that made Paige feel like she wasn’t sure if it was a compliment. Probably wasn’t. Or maybe it was. Hard to tell with Azzi.

The interview wrapped a few minutes later. A couple promo shots, a half-hug that didn’t make it past the shoulders, and then they were done. Off-camera, Paige found her voice again.

“Nice sweater,” she said, half to be civil.

Azzi looked down at it. Black. Cropped. The Ferrari logo sitting just above her ribs.

“Thanks,” she said. “Team issue. You’ll get yours.”

Paige nodded. She already had it. She just hadn’t worn it.

“Braids look good,” Paige added, before she could talk herself out of it. It wasn’t quite a compliment. Just… a fact.

Azzi smiled, smaller this time. Realer. “Thanks. You thinking of getting some?”

Paige snorted. “Not quite my lane.”

Azzi shrugged. “Shame.”

And then she was gone, slipping out of the studio with that champion walk—quiet, collected, barely touching the ground. Paige stayed where she was for a moment longer, fiddling with the hem of her T-shirt again, trying not to notice the way her skin felt too warm.

She was here. In red. With the world champion.

And she wasn’t here to be her friend.

—

February 2025 - Bahrain International Circuit

Pre-season testing came fast and the desert didn’t care that it was February. Bahrain pressed heat into the bones of everything: the tires, the steering wheel, the back of Paige’s neck. Her visor felt like a sealed oven door as she climbed out of the cockpit after her first full morning session.

Her race suit clung to her skin in a way that felt both grounding and too much. She tugged her fireproof top down and wiped at her jawline with a damp towel, fingers twitching once against the fabric before stilling. Her engineer—Luca—was talking in her ear, real-time debrief as they walked back toward the garage.

“You’re adjusting well,” he said in his usual even tone. Calm. Not too complimentary. “Sector one is consistent. Sector three, you’re still a bit heavy into some of the final corners. But we’ll get there.”

She nodded once. She liked Luca. He didn’t talk to her like she was a new driver or a little girl. He just talked. Facts, data, line charts, options. She could work with that.

She also wasn’t stupid. The times were up on the board. Azzi had gone out for an afternoon session and was already putting perfect sectors all over the screen, clean and ruthless. Fast lap after fast lap, making it look like a simulation. Paige stood just inside the garage, suited down to her undershirt, arms crossed, watching the monitors.

1st. Fudd. 1:30.232.

Again.

Somewhere behind her, a junior mechanic said, “She’s unreal,” and Paige didn’t turn around.

Her own best time—7th at the moment—sat in small, stable font a little farther down the screen. She’d had one good lap in the earlier run, out of nowhere, when everything clicked and the car felt like it had folded into her hands. She’d gone 3rd, briefly, before getting bumped back down by the Red Bulls and Mercedes clawing through the late afternoon. It didn’t matter much—testing was testing. Times were pointless. But still.

She was here now. And she wasn’t used to not being the best.

“She’s in year five,” Luca said, appearing beside her again with a bottle of water she hadn’t asked for but took anyway. “You’re in year two. Different programs.”

“I’m not comparing.”

Luca looked at her sidelong. “Good.”

She was lying, of course. But only to herself.

It wasn’t jealousy. She knew that. She didn’t want to be Azzi Fudd. That would be ridiculous. She didn’t even like her.

Something in her gut twisted at the thought, the lie of it so sharp she almost flinched. Azzi had barely spoken to her since the media day—just polite nods, clipped greetings, the occasional glance in the paddock. They weren’t teammates so much as two cars painted the same color. And even that felt like a stretch.

Paige hated the way Azzi looked in the car. Not because it was bad. Because it was so fucking good. Like she’d been born for it. The way she threw the Ferrari into corners, aggressive but not reckless. The way she accelerated through corners looked like it had been dialed by hand. Paige had watched one of her onboard laps during lunch break and found herself tightening her grip around her fork.

She didn’t hate Azzi. She didn’t even know Azzi. But her presence was a pressure on Paige’s chest that didn’t let up, even when she was off track.

“I want to run again in the last hour,” Paige said.

Luca nodded. “Soft tires?”

“Yeah.”

Azzi came in just before the final session. Her helmet was off by the time Paige crossed the garage, and for a half-second their eyes met. Paige gave a quick nod. Azzi didn’t smile, but she acknowledged it. Kind of.

“You’re going again?” she asked, voice casual as she towel-dried the back of her neck. Her braids were pulled back, sleek and tight, no sweat ever daring to show up on her.

“Last run,” Paige said. “Soft compound.”

Azzi’s mouth turned a little. Not quite a smirk. “Track’s quick right now.”

“I know.”

“Good luck.”

It didn’t sound sarcastic. That made it worse.

The track felt different this time. Cooler air, less crowded. The Ferrari was so quick down the straight she could barely believe it. It was like having a weapon she hadn’t earned yet.

She hit sector one almost perfect. Sector two matched her best. Sector three—she didn’t overcook turn fourteen, didn’t hesitate into the final corner.

Luca’s voice in her ear as she crossed the line: “Good. That’s a good one.”

Her name lit up on the leaderboard again. 2nd.

She exhaled, hard.

Not first. But close. And for one lap, one brief, blinding lap, she felt it: she could belong here.

By the time she returned to the garage, Azzi was gone. Probably doing data. Probably not thinking about Paige at all.

She stripped her gloves off finger by finger and pressed her palms flat against her thighs. The heat of the run was still in her chest. She didn’t smile, didn’t celebrate. She just sat down, quietly, like she didn’t feel like the floor had stopped spinning.

—

March 2025 - Albert Park Circuit (Melbourne, Australia)

Media day on Thursday before the first race in Australia was supposed to be chaotic.

Paige didn’t know what she expected when she stepped out onto the media stage in Melbourne—just that it wasn’t this.

It wasn’t a sea of little girls on their dads’ shoulders, or ten-year-olds clutching Ferrari flags. It wasn’t teen girls in red bucket hats screaming both their names like they meant it. It wasn’t glittery homemade signs that said WE LOVE YOU AZZI AND PAIGE in shaky handwriting, or girls wearing Paige’s old Sauber merch that had clearly been cut to fit them.

It wasn’t this. But it was good.

Better than good. Disarming.

Azzi came out a few minutes later, sunglasses perched low, a quiet kind of ease to her walk that Paige could never seem to fake. Her braids were tucked under her hat this time. She wore the full Ferrari kit like it had been designed just for her. The crowd lit up at the sight of her, and Paige caught herself watching—not for long, just long enough to remind herself to look away.

She hated that Azzi made it look effortless. She hated that Azzi probably wasn’t even trying.

They stood side by side, microphones clipped to their shirts, backdrops branded with every sponsor under the sun. Paige had gotten good at these things: say enough to be interesting, but not enough to go viral for the wrong reason. Smile. Deflect. Keep your words cleaner than your lap times.

Azzi was good at it too, of course. Of course.

“She’s a phenomenal driver,” Azzi said when asked about working with Paige. “I’m excited to see what she can do in the same car.”

Paige smiled, and it looked real. It almost was.

“Azzi’s set the standard,” Paige replied. “I’m here to compete. And push her. That’s what teammates do.”

Rivals, she didn’t say.

They stayed late after the interview. It wasn’t part of the schedule, but neither of them left.

The crowd had thinned a little, but the younger girls stayed. They held out notebooks and hats and scraps of paper, and Paige signed until her wrist started to cramp. She watched Azzi from the corner of her eye—her soft, practiced nods, the way she asked each kid their name before signing.

It should’ve annoyed her. Maybe it did. But it also made her stay a little longer.

—

When the cameras were off and the sun was down, the truce fell apart.

“You didn’t have to act like I’m a rookie up there,” Paige said, unzipping her racing suit halfway, letting the night air hit her collarbone.

Azzi turned. She was in a team hoodie now, sleeves pushed to her elbows. “I didn’t.”

“You said I was here to learn.”

“You are.”

Paige laughed once, bitter at the edges. “I’ve raced since I was six.”

“I know.” Azzi crossed her arms, cool and calm, like she wasn’t aware of how sharp she was when she was still. “So have I. The difference is I didn’t stall in Formula Three.”

There it was.

Paige’s mouth tightened. “Right. Because some of us didn’t get fast-tracked through the junior series.”

Azzi’s eyes flickered, something dark and knowing behind them. “Maybe some of us didn’t need to be.”

—

They both finished the race.

That was the first thought Paige had as she climbed out of the car and slid her gloves off with her teeth. Her head was hot inside the helmet, her neck damp with sweat. Her hands ached from the force of braking over and over again in the corners of Albert Park — not just physically but mentally, with the kind of edge you only got from racing wheel to wheel for an hour and a half in brutal heat.

Azzi had finished second. Paige had come home fifth.

It wasn’t a bad result. In fact, it was a solid one. Points on debut for Ferrari, overtakes made with precision, and no major errors on the pit wall or in the garage. All of it respectable. More than respectable, really.

But Paige wasn’t the one on the podium.

She leaned back against the wall behind the paddock cool-down room, already halfway out of her race suit. She had the top half tied around her waist, and her fireproof undershirt clung to her back and arms like a second skin. She could still feel the heat radiating off the asphalt. Her hair was plastered to her forehead. Her whole body buzzed like an overcharged battery.

Somewhere nearby, the crowd roared — not for her.

They called out Azzi’s name.

Paige looked over in time to catch it — the exact moment Azzi peeled off her helmet. The hair underneath was pinned and frizzed from the heat, but her braids still hung tight around her face. Her eyes were bright, unfocused, the way they always were right after a race, when the adrenaline hadn’t burned off yet. She wiped sweat from her brow with the back of her gloved hand and then with a towel someone from the team tossed her. Her skin gleamed under the sun.

Paige looked away.

It wasn’t jealousy. She was sure of that. She wasn’t sure of a lot of things when it came to Azzi, but she was sure of that.

She just didn’t like her.

That was allowed.

That was normal.

“I need a damn shower,” Paige muttered to no one, adjusting the sleeves knotted around her hips. The back of her undershirt was soaked through, sticking in all the wrong places. Her mouth tasted like heat and rubber and whatever electrolyte drink she’d choked down at the start of the race. She felt gritty, like the entire track had come home with her under her skin.

Someone handed her a bottle of water and she took it without looking, drank half in a single go, then dumped the rest down the back of her neck. It wasn’t enough. Nothing would be until she was out of this fire suit and under cold water with the door locked.

Still, as she stood there in the aftermath, she couldn’t help glancing over again.

Azzi was in her Ferrari suit still — red and black with gold sponsor patches — zipped halfway down like everyone else. She wasn’t smiling, not quite, but there was something like quiet satisfaction in the way she leaned into the team, nodding at something her engineer said, towel still slung around her neck. She looked… comfortable. Like she belonged up there. On the podium. In the middle of this chaos.

Paige rubbed a hand over her face. She didn’t want to be thinking about Azzi right now. She didn’t want to be thinking about anything except peeling this suit off and collapsing under a hotel shower head until her skin stopped buzzing.

The interviews would come soon. The press. The debrief. She still had to say the right things — “Good points for the team,” “Car felt strong in the second half,” “Great to see both Ferraris in the top five.” She’d say it all like a pro. She always did.

But for now, she let herself feel the full weight of the race. Her legs ached. Her core hurt. Her head throbbed, just a little. She had ten points in the bag, the car was fast, and her debut hadn’t been a disaster.

And Azzi?

She had eighteen points and a trophy waiting.

Paige stood there, watching the crew bustle around the podium truck, and realized something else — something subtle and sharp in the back of her throat.

Azzi always made it look so easy.

And that, more than anything, was what got under her skin.

[dc418writes]

•Lemons & Limes•

✨Pairing✨: Terrence Richmondxblack!reader

Summary🪄: Safe to say, maybe you shouldn’t be left alone…and you should probably listen to your husband

🚨: mention of a deceased relative, pretty much all fluff💕

A/N🎤: hi☺️! So this is my submission for Terry’s Birthday Bash created by @megamindsecretlair ! I think it’s such a great and sweet idea that’ll definitely add some much needed fun to the community🌸! Feel free to participate if you’d like, and don’t forget to support the other submissions!

*DISCLAIMER!: I DO NOT CLAIM OWNERSHIP of pictures used as they were all found via Pinterest*

You just had to mess with that electrical panel.

All you had to do was wait until Terry came home so he could try to figure out what happened, - like he told you to do - but no. That overly confident, hyper-independent part of you was so convinced you could fix it after recalling an episode of some home renovation show that you half watched as you occasionally dozed off.

“Seems easy enough, I just flip the switch off and on, and things should work again,” you said to yourself as you opened the mounted panel. Sure enough, all the lights in the house switched off after pushing the large black switch to the left. When you pushed it to the right though, you were still surrounded by darkness. You tried again, and again, yet still nothing prompting your subdued panic to boil over.

Now here you sat in your husband’s Ford truck, nervously twirling your thumbs around themselves as you waited for him to get you both checked in at a nearby hotel. And of all days, on his birthday.

The chill of the night air briefly touching your skin has goosebumps raising along your arms as Terry slides into the drivers seat with a sigh.

“Everything okay?”

“They’re booked,” he answers pulling the seatbelt across his body until it locks with a click. “And so is every other hotel in town.” Gotta love college basketball playoff season.

“Oh…well one night without lights-,”

“We don’t know how long it’s gonna take to fix,” he counters carefully pulling out onto the busy road. “Might even have to re-wire everything, which could mean more than a night without lights.”

Well if you didn’t feel terrible before..

“It’s a motel about 30 minutes out. We can stay there tonight and figure out the rest tomorrow.”

“Okay,” you shyly mumble beginning to nervously twirl your thumbs again. Just as to the hotel, Terry doesn’t say a word during the ride to your next destination and you don’t either. The only sound coming from the truck’s rumble and the radio station playing a mix of old and new R&B.

You’re sure he’s just quiet because he’s trying to think of what to do next; how to handle your house’s faulty wiring and its impending cost. His silence only makes your guilt more suffocating though, convinced that it might be you and your hardheaded tendencies that’s finally snapped his last nerve.

“What do you wanna eat?,” he finally asks turning down the busy strip filled with bright, neon signs for clubs, bars, and restaurants. Admittedly most weren’t outwardly pleasing, but you could still find a good meal and an equally good time.

You shrug. “M’not really hungry.”

“…what all did you eat today?,” he asks taking turns looking at you and the cars ahead.

“Um…breakfast with you earlier…and some crackers...”

After turning into the drive thru for Wingz & Thingz, you can feel Terry’s sea-green eyes practically attached to the side of your face. That famous side eye already saying, “Girl please, we both know you starving so why you playin games?,” before he could.

“What?,” you ask daring to meet his eyes pretending like you didn’t know that he knew something was up. He simply kisses his teeth before answering the employee through the staticky speaker.

“Can I get a 10 piece hot honey, extra wet, with fries, and a 15 piece lemon pepper please?”

“I said-,”

“I heard you,” he retorts with a hint of a smirk to his full lips that has you bashfully biting at the corner of yours.

“Thank you.”

“Mhmm.”

-

The rusted, metal door of your room opens with a heavy thud as it knocks against the adjoining wall making it rattle. Ever the protector, Terry has you stand outside - but still close by - while he checks to make sure nothing is off. Both of your respective duffles slung over his broad shoulders as if they weighed nothing.

“It’s good,” he calls signaling it’s okay for you to enter. However once you cross the doorway, you can’t fully say you agree on ‘good’. The multicolored, geometric comforter was something straight out of the 70s, which matched the orangish-red carpet and overall aesthetic of the outdated room. Gingerly sitting in the light brown, swivel chair next to the window, you feel that pang of guilt again taking in your slightly depressing surroundings, and how all of this is ultimately your fault.

“I know it’s not the best, but-,”

“Are you mad at me?,” you finally ask just wanting everything out in the open rather than your mind constantly go back and forth.

“Why would I be mad?,” he asks with a quirked brow as he sets your bags to the side.

“Because I didn’t listen and messed up everything. Because we’re here in this room with questionable stains on the carpet, and I’m sure equally strange ones on the sheets, on your birthday when we should home and you stretched out in your favorite chair.” You could hear the brown leather crackle and pop now as he shifted to get more comfortable before eventually reaching out for you as you passed to join him. Hell, it was your favorite chair too.

“First off, I haven’t been excited about my birthday since I was…what..16? So I wasn’t expecting anything huge,” he replies stepping closer and closer until he can squat in front of you placing his large hands on your knees. “And I’m not mad at you. That’s what’s been bothering you?”

“Well, you barely talked in the car which is different than how you were this morning. Clearly it’s something and I figured it was me being hardheaded.”

“Respectfully baby, I knew you were hardheaded before we got married and know it’s not gonna change no time soon. I made my bed, I know how to lie in it.” Your feigned shock and playful smack to Terry’s shoulder has all his 32 showing in that adorable laugh of his.

“Hey, at least I admit it!” Unlike your own mother who swore she didn’t know where you got it from.

“You right.” Terry’s laughs settle into a low sigh as he lets his thumbs run along the insides of your knees. “Really though, I’m more frustrated and annoyed than mad. Again, not at you. My damn half-brained cousin should’ve been come to look at the wires, but it was always something. Guess I’m no better though still calling when I know he’s not gonna show.

“So if anything, all this is my fault. I know you were just trying to help.”

“It’s not your fault either,” you try to soothe resting your hands on either side of his neck. Your manicured nails lightly scratching his nape has a low hum of appreciation rumbling his chest. “Really, it’s whoever stayed there last because they knew and didn’t say nothing. I hope they always stump their pinky toe.”

“Damn, so violent.” You simply shrug making your husband deeply chuckle with a shake of his head. “Alright food first or shower?”

“Food! I’m starving and honestly scared of that bathroom...”

“Oh now you starvin?,” Terry smirks gently pulling you out of the chair. “Could’ve sworn-,”

“Yes I know, I know it’s in the past now,” you playfully roll your eyes shooing him towards your waiting containers. “Food please?”

With his back turned, you hope he doesn’t notice you sneakily digging into your bag to retrieve his gift wrapped neatly in shiny, silver paper. You should’ve known better though seeing that your husband was an ex marine trained to be hyperaware of his environment.

“I know that’s not what I think it is,” Terry announces as soon as you stand up again. His thick arms crossed in front of his chest when he turns around. “You didn’t have-,”

“I heard you,” you smirk stepping closer with his gift in hand. “It’s still your birthday though, and if you think I’m not getting you anything at all, you clearly don’t know me.”

You don’t miss the small smile that curls his lips when he takes the rectangular box making you giddily smile yourself. Once he’s ripped through the paper, his chest tightens at the familiar, gold, Casio watch waiting in its clear case. The underside purposely facing upward so Terry could see the inscription of his initials and a set of coordinates.

“It’s where your uncle was stationed. I talked with your grandma and she helped me find it.”

Terry adored his uncle Louie, practically idolizing him since he was a child. Wherever Louie went, little Terry wanted to go eagerly standing by his room door with shoes on the wrong foot waiting for him to walk out. Some of Terry’s best memories were riding around in the passenger seat of his black on black mustang - much to his grandmother’s displeasure - with the windows down as they sped down the highway going any and everywhere. Louie was ultimately the reason he signed up for the military, still wanting to be like his infamous uncle even in his young adult years.

Terry still had a hard time forgiving himself for missing the funeral. Was honestly still pissed at his higher ups for not approving his request.

“He’d understand baby. He knows how them people can be,” his grandmother tried to comfort over the phone. “He knows how much you love him.”

“She wasn’t quite sure if it was the same one-,”

“It’s perfect.” As many times as he got in trouble for putting it on, he’d be able to pick it out from any lineup. “Thank you.”

Free hand on your hip, he pulls your body closer so his lips can meet yours immediately taking the day’s earlier stresses away.

“Happy Birthday. It’s not exactly how I envisioned giving it to you, but-,”

“I don’t care about presentation and all that. I’m breathing. I’m with you. I promise that’s all I need baby.”

+ so I feel like this didn’t come out the way I wanted, but then again maybe it’s just me 🤷🏽‍♀️ lol. Either way I hope you enjoyed🌸 and Happy Birthday to my imaginary husband and baby fahtha Mr. Terry Richmond🥰✨!!

[acphengene]

hear me out... the kinks of the soul tie boys - it's not a want it's a NEED

The soul tie boys - Kinks

Heeseung:

- these two mf’ers is kinky

- he will whisper the filthiest shit in your ear when he finish a concert and you will all but drag him home to make him spent that last bit of energy

- overstimulation; you can feel each others pain, and I feel like Heeseung wouldn’t mind suffering since he knew you were too

- he wouldn’t stop until both of your minds were in shambles

- sometimes you would get him back though, by simple orgasm denial. Typically this would be if he had been particularly bad the night before - and you would always do it before a concert, leaving him absolutely desperate

- I also feel like who ever shared walls with you when he dragged you along on tour would need earplugs, he would definitely be vocal, and he wouldn’t stop until you had been screaming his name at least 3 times

Jay:

- breeding. Look I don’t care if it’s not your thing because it is his

- Jay just wanna be inside of you, raw. If it was up to him he would do nothing else than sloppy thrust in and out of you while he circled your clit

- He would fill you over and over and mark you as his. He would know he was yours, but he would still have a need to ruin you for anyone else

- I do however think this is purely from a dominant pov and not because he’s ready to start a family, not yet at least.

- He’a a romantic after all and he would never cum before you did, ever, he would make sure of it

Jake:

- Jake would like the other two not care a lot about what anyone were to think, and he would most definitely be into public sex

- that’s also why you two would have your own car unlike the others who usually would ride together

- he would fuck you in the back seat, the devider to the driver would be up ofc, and he would have your cheek pressed up against the window as they drove through the streets

- and this was a fancy car so people would try to look in whenever they were holding in a light and he absolutely loved it

- a vibrator in your panties was a common thing when you were out on dates. He could be a little sinister from time to time

Sunghoon:

- A little more on the vanilla side compared to the other three. but he just liked to take you deeply.

- a tummy bulge would drive him insane and soon it would be one of the reasons he took you with slow and deep thrusts

- the first time you pressed down on him with your hand he absolutely lost his mind

- you would switch up on him once in a while and he would lose himself to the sweet words and commands you would throw at him, begging and pleading for him to take control again. In the end you would always give it to him

Jungwon:

- this man loves and loves to eat you out (I’m so sorry but I had to with these two foodies)

- he would know you were gonna taste divine whenever he came home from tours because he would taste the pineapple you would be eating all week up until they got back

- he also had an obsession with making you squirt, and whenever he made you do it on his tongue he would be so so proud.

- so much so that the rest of the guys would roll their eyes at his smug attitude

Sunoo:

- he’s a sweet and kind angel, definitely. But don’t let his looks fool you

- he is a pleasure dom. I don’t fucking care what anyone says; in this universe he is.

- I can just imagine him tying you up and just going to town, making you see colors and stars beneath the headband he would have you wear from time to time

- the colors of the marks he would sometimes leave would inspire your art

- you would definitely get punished for being to loud, only he was allowed to hear your sounds

Note: I will not be writing smut about Niki - not until he is at least 21 and even then I might hold back. I really hope you will respect that 🫶🏼

As always - send me an ask if you wanna know anything else

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