Okay so if it's okay I have a seb (rbr seb to be precise) request. We all know rbr seb was a menace, chaos lover and flirty (we all love him for that) so enemies to lovers (at least one sided because I have no doubt this man while loving by all grid also hated by some) with seb would be amazing... Imagine all the tension 🫣🫣 but happy ending of course because nowadays I need my healthy dosage of fluff with a bit of angst sprinkle 💗🙏🏻
Lissie note… I am SO happy someone finally requested Seb<3 An enemies to lovers too!!! This prompt is pure gold! Really love the one-sided touch too. Thank you!!!
Things to note
This is set to start in late 2010 and progress from there on (only until Seb’s last year at rbr)
Accuracy to real driver standings will be off due to the reader insert
Michael did not get in any accident here<3
Reader is 22 and Sebastian is 23
Reader is with Mercedes, driving alongside Michael (put him instead of Rosberg because Michael knows Seb better. You’ll get it when you read)
Pairing: Sebastian Vettel x Mercedes!Fem!Reader
Warnings: Angst, a little bit of cursing
Word Count: 6.4k+
Playlist Recommendations: 𝐅𝐥𝐮𝐟𝐟💗, 𝐀𝐧𝐠𝐬𝐭💔, 𝐒𝐕𝟓
Taglist: @drugged-kitkat , @darleneslane
A master of your art. That’s what you liked to think of yourself as. You weren’t driven by fame or money. Rather the excitement of the rush. The feeling of hitting each apex just right— you relished in it. If there was one thing you really were driven by, however; it was winning a championship. You’d won a few races in your career and had your national anthem played for everyone to hear, but no more of that. Your sole goal was to receive the title above all other titles.
Your dreams of such were cut short by one Red Bull driver. Sebastian Vettel. You sat there at the prize-giving ceremony, waiting for Formula One racers to be called up. Michael sat next to you with Corinna. She gave you a sympathetic smile, knowing you missed out on the championship and landed 2nd overall.
Michael claimed Sebastian meant no ill will. He was just young and spirited. You begged to differ. The smirk he’d give you after winning a race begged to differ. His whole… shtick… begged to differ.
Alonso was called on stage to receive his award for landing 3rd, which meant that you had to be ready to receive yours too. You brushed down the sides of your dress, asking Corrina if you looked okay. She seemed surprised you’d even ask such a question but reassured you with a smile and a nod.
When your name was called, a thump in your heart reached the base of your throat. Podium celebrations were one thing, but the prize-giving was an entirely different thing altogether.
Although it was supposed to be a celebration, all you saw was a sea of pitiful glances. Most people knew of your unfortunate position, though many were too afraid to comment on it.
“Sebastian Vettel” Oh the great Sebastian Vettel! World’s youngest champion yet! That could’ve been you. Easily. You hated the thought of not being there on the highest step. The young German gave you a wink before he received his massive trophy. You were in front of hundreds of people and the ceremony was being taped, so you did nothing but smile and seem grateful.
Sure, you were actually grateful for receiving anything at all, but it all seemed like pity. All that was left was to throw your own pity party with a pint of Pinot and a sad romance movie.
The interviews were a nightmare. Every single one of them kept trying to sell you their act. All the while the questions surrounded your relationship with Sebastian. One of undoubted hate for one another. At least on your side.
You didn’t even bother going back to the hotel. The after-party was the one thing you actually looked forward to. The booze, mainly. Anything to drown out your sorrows, really. Oh, how you despised all the small gestures people did for you as an act of congratulating you. Your mixed feelings nearly slapped the vodka shot out of a waitress’ hand. You were a menace in this state.
“Easy on those shots, you came here alone. Wouldn’t want to go home too wasted.” A voice came up behind you.
“Well, that’s a little too late, Hamilton.” His look was that of genuine concern. He knew what you were doing. He knew exactly what that vodka was for.
“You’ll get him next time. At least you’re on the podium, right?” Great. Even one of your closest friends started to pity you.
“Fuck off, would you?” Luckily, he was very understanding and didn’t take any of your words to heart. He got out of your way and went to socialize. That’s when the coin fell. You were alone. He was right. You had no means of getting home. Taxis were rare in that part of town, and your hotel was far away. You were really in a pile of shit.
“Whatever,” you mumbled to yourself and one-shotted a sipping whiskey. It burned your throat with vigour and surged through your body like a pest.
Completely wasted, you felt extremely hot. It didn’t cross your mind to take a breather outside. No, instead, you slowly pulled the sleeve of your dress down. With your shoulder exposed, you could only chase that relief of cool air.
That attempt? Cut short. By none other than Sebastian Vettel. Perhaps a championship in interference would serve him well. He stopped you and pulled your sleeve back up. It felt like an insult. Another jab that he wanted to throw your way.
“Fuck off and let me do my thing,” you kept aimlessly pulling at your sleeve. The feat was just as great as your races against him.
“Stop it. You’re drunk.”
“Wow, I hadn’t noticed. You want another trophy for that discovery?” The friction against the soft satin of your dress eventually made it tear. Both of you froze before you got up and b-lined towards the exit. Anything to get away from him. You pushed through the masses of people in the club and eventually got outside.
“I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to rip your dress.” Much to your misfortune, the constant bother had followed you outside.
“You’ve already ruined more than just my dress. Must you ruin the rest of my night too?” You looked him deep in the eyes. You didn’t even have to act like you’d given up— because you most definitely had. No question.
“I’m about to make your night bearable if you’ll let me.” He took off his blazer and wrapped it around you, so you wouldn’t catch a cold in your skimpy dress. You hated the sentiment. You hated his whole “holier than thou” personality. Why? Because it was for show. He was nothing but a monster. He was behind many of your crashes and never gave you any space. You resented him for his quirky little stunts.
“Whatever, youngest world champion.” You couldn’t help but scoff at the title. He had played foul to win it. That title should’ve been yours, but no. Sebastian Vettel stole your glory.
“Come on, don’t be like that. At least value your own well-being. Let’s just get you a coffee to sober up with. You can curse me out as much as you want in the morning.” He tried to guide you forward, but you hunched over and up came all of your vodka shots. He held your hair back as you emptied out the contents of your stomach. It was revolting. You felt disgusting.
“I sure hope I won’t see you in the morning— let alone tomorrow.” Not exactly the toughest thing to say when you’re coughing for your life.
“You won’t even remember this, you know?”
“Makes it better. Then I don’t have to remember how I actually spent more than 10 minutes alone with you.” You were still hunched over, but the snarkiness in your voice triumphed that.
“You really dislike me, don’t you?” He chuckled.
“Sebastian Vettel, I hate you.”
The Red Bull champion ended up being right. You had completely forgotten about the exchange. Someone had hailed you a taxi and you’d drunkenly gotten yourself to your hotel room. That’s how you remembered it. You were still bitter about the ceremony and Sebastian’s selfish attitude. Sure, you’d expect nothing less from a racer, especially in Formula One, but he was a different kind of heartless. He mocked you. He didn’t care if he hurt you on track. That was your own fault.
Sebastian Vettel was your sworn enemy.
The media had become desensitized to your drama with him, as something always happened at every race. It was impossible to not argue with the guy. All he cared about was winning and he wasn’t in the sport to make friends. It was almost as if he wanted to be hated. You simply couldn’t understand how he and Lewis managed to get along. They somehow managed to separate their work from their friendship. You had that relationship with most of the grid, but Sebastian was too unsportsmanlike for your taste. Michael always tried to reason with you, often softening the blow of some of Vettel’s words, saying he “didn’t mean it” or was “just worked up”. You looked up to Michael, but you could never back that. It was bull. Sebastian had no redeeming qualities. He was overly flirtatious and aggressive. You hated that.
Every interview he had with a woman was met with his flirty remarks and his devious smile. You always had to sit there and soak in his gloating. He was insufferable.
“I really don’t see what the problem is. He’s just really obsessed with his career, no?” You had invited your friend out for brunch before your plane. The first race of the season was in Australia. Mark Webber’s home race. A challenge for Sebastian. Mark was tired of his teammate. Much like yourself. You could smell a possible truce. Although that’d be foul play. Unsportsmanlike of you. Were you going to be the bigger person? Of course. You were mature.
“He makes me want to crash my car into his. I should definitely do that in Australia.” You were not mature.
“You don’t mean that. Besides, it’s not even that deep. You don’t have to make something big out of the rush he gets from being in the moment. Don’t you also cuss at your engineer from time to time?” She had a valid point, but it went into one ear and straight out the other. You loved her to death, but she was spewing nonsense.
“Sebastian is an asshole. That’s the bottom line. Whose side are you on anyway?!” You scolded. She twirled her fork in the pasta and let out a faint chuckle.
“Of course, I’m on your side… but you can’t lie. Sebastian is cute.” It was official. Your friend was possessed.
“In what world? I told you about his dirty tricks. How is he still cute?” He was the devil in disguise. Some drivers were able to see it, but most were gullible enough to even befriend him. Your hatred didn’t come from a place of jealousy. It came from a place of being cast aside because of him. Time and time again. It was tiring, and you couldn’t do anything about it. The Mercedes car wasn’t nearly as fast as Red Bull. You desperately wanted it to be.
“Whatever. What I’m saying is, maybe he’s not all that bad off-track.” Oh, but he was. His flirtatious behaviour off-track was nearly as bad as his insufferable one on track. You couldn’t stand it.
“He is. I don’t know what to tell you.”
Your friend drove you to the jet and the two of you exchanged a few hugs and whatnot. She wished you good luck before you got on.
Inside, you saw many familiar faces. Michael being one of them. He pointed to the seat across from his own and signalled for you to sit. When you did, he leaned forward and you could already tell he was going to talk about your least favourite driver again. For whatever reason, he was set on trying to change your mind. “Seb is not a bad person”, “He’s just young and hot-headed”, and “He doesn’t know any better”… all of those excuses meant nothing to you. Sebastian was just that; a dirty driver.
“So, let’s find a way to beat him this year, yes?” You were taken aback. He never said something like that. Sure, he’d console you and help you through your sorrows of finishing behind Vettel, but he was always neutral. Never on either “side”. Though he did tend to seem like he was on Sebastian’s.
“We’re in a Mercedes. I don’t see any way for us. It’s just straight down on the charts. I mean, will I even be able to land a podium this year? I heard McLaren have been pulling their weight for this year. Like… a lot.” Michael contemplated what to say for a moment, but tried to console you nonetheless. He was a father, so he’d gotten quite good at that.
“We can still put up a good fight, right?”
“I suppose.” You could only hope for a miracle. Christian Horner was unrelenting with his new golden boy, Sebastian. The Red Bulls were unstoppable. You had no other choice but to follow Michael’s spirit. Just put up a good fight.
Sebastian Vettel, I hate you.
It was practice day. You were getting ready, suiting up, and seating yourself in the car. Your heart was beating fast. It had been a while since you last sat in a real car. You’d done your fair share of sim racing whilst on break, but it was nothing compared to the real deal.
“Good luck,” your engineer clapped your helmet before you were released. The car felt surprisingly great. It was smooth and you felt like it synced well with your driving style.
Then came Sebastian. Again. He sped past you. Although you couldn’t see him, you just knew he was smirking behind that helmet of his. He relished in your mental torment. It was his source of amusement.
You finished P3. Lewis finished P2 and Sebastian, yet again, finished P1. It was only the first round of practice though. You promised yourself that you’d do everything in your power to finish P1 in the qualifying session.
You didn’t keep your promise. You fell short and landed a finishing spot at P2. Devastating, but your team was happy you got a front-row start anyway. Whenever the interviews finished, you tried to find Michael. Only to see him chatting with him. They were having a laugh— joking around. The sight made you furious. Again, not in jealousy, but the sheer thought that Michael fell for Sebastian’s shtick.
“Hey, Michael. Could we talk? There’s something about the car.” The interjection was abrupt and one might even call it rude, but did you care? Absolutely not. You had no reason to whatsoever. It was Vettel after all.
“Actually, I was just saying goodbye to Sebastian. Corinna is waiting for me outside. How about you tell me tomorrow? Maybe talk to the engineers too. Anyways, see you guys!” Just great. You sighed as you watched your teammate leave.
“That’s some rejection,” said the German standing next to you. Ugh. Wrong German.
“What do you want?”
“Let’s grab coffee sometime soon.” What? You were used to his flirty remarks being directed at the interviewers and whatnot… but this?
“Excuse me?”
“You heard me.” Unbelievable. He was unbelievable. You scoffed and put your hand in front of his face before walking off. Giving him the satisfaction of an answer wasn’t exactly your style, and it wouldn’t ever be.
“You didn’t say no!” He yelled from behind you. Ignoring him, you made a turn so that you’d disappear from his sight. His presence was exhausting and downright draining.
Sebastian Vettel, I hate you.
“Box box,” said your engineer. You were on hards and chasing Sebastian who was on hards as well. It made no sense to pit after a mere 23 laps.
“Are you sure? I’ve got a good chance here. I don’t think it’s time. We didn’t discuss this.” The original plan was to pit when Sebastian would, and it seemed like he was going to do a one-stop.
“We’re sure. You need to get on mediums. We just switched Michael too. Get in.” You sighed and got ready to slow down in the pit lane. It was painful to see Sebastian take the win like that. P1 felt like a distant dream for you at that point.
“This better work. I swear, this better fucking work.” You were beyond frustrated about your current position in P8. The pit stop had taken longer than expected, making you lag a few places behind. Oh, how you couldn’t stand the idea of Sebastian rubbing his victory in your face. His first victory of the season.
You upped your game, completing smooth overtake after smooth overtake. All the way up until you regained your position right behind the Red Bull. There was a slight problem though. The car was starting to feel unusually hot. Sweat trickled down your face and the visor looked as if it was raining. You weren’t going to report rain though, as you knew your team would if there was any.
“Fuck, guys, it’s too hot!” You yelled over the radio. As expected, all your engineer replied with was a simple “copy”. It was swift communication, you knew that, but it sure as hell was frustrating. It felt like you weren’t getting any attention at all.
Your team performed pit stops rather quickly, which was a plus whereas everything else was a minus. It didn’t cancel out, but at least it helped combat some of the other problems your car had.
As most had predicted though, you were unable to overtake Sebastian or his new nickname “the finger”, and were stuck in P2. You couldn’t even enjoy the podium celebration. Sure, you sprayed some champagne and chugged a bit, but did you enjoy it? Not particularly. Michael had told you to not worry and just give it your all, but it was hard to forget when Vettel was in the way. His smug grin as he held his trophy and stuck his pointer in the air… you wanted to crush his ego. So bad. You were going to relish in the moment when Sebastian would lose out on a championship. It was going to be an unforgettable moment to be sure.
“You can’t be satisfied, can you?” Sebastian came up to you after the celebration. He was the last person you wanted to see at that moment, but his gloating was inevitable. Might as well get it over with.
“Not by you, I can’t.”
“You must know how that sounds.” Yeah, you were going to lose your mind. He successfully pulled off a tasteless and baseless trap. You walked straight into it like an insect stuck in a spiderweb.
“Whatever.” You took off your race suit, leaving on the fireproof suit to cover your body for the time being. It was already hot enough as is.
“Cute.” You’d gotten used to his little flirty remarks and comments. It was basically white noise.
“You’re not.”
“I was referring to you, you know.” He was quite literally impossible.
“Must you really make me suffer with your presence any longer? Isn’t winning and doing your little finger thing enough?!” When you started raising your voice, it grabbed people’s attention, so the young Red Bull driver pulled you with him to his motorhome.
“Did I not just enlighten you about my discomfort in your presence or did I daydream that?” You scoffed at him and pulled your arm from his grip.
“Look, I’m done trying to ignore your contempt for me. Do you seriously think that I will apologize for winning? This isn’t grade school. I was driving, I was faster, I won. Simple as that. If you can’t accept it and take the loss, then you really shouldn’t be racing.” Your heart sank to the bottom of your chest. Each sentence was like a dagger to the chest. You felt every little soul-crushing word in your gut.
“Wow… you really are more of an asshole than I thought. I don’t care that you won. I care that you gloat. I care that you don’t care about me. You don’t care about any of the others. We could die for all you care. Do you want me to die? Is that it?” All rationality had left your mind the moment he insulted you. Red was all you could see.
“You’re twisting my words. I merely said that I won’t apologize for winning. I never said I wanted anyone injured.” He was right, and you knew that. Deep down, you knew that he was just like you. Passionate about the sport. The only difference was that he was in a winning car… and you unfortunately weren’t. Was it his fault? You were too blindsided by rage to even consider any other possibilities.
“By the way you drive, I beg to differ.”
“You’d be lying to me and yourself if you were to tell me you’ve never gotten caught up in the moment. You know exactly how that feels.” He somehow had a counter for everything you threw at him.
“What about your constant flirting? Why do you keep rubbing your victory in my face like that?” The look on his face contorted into that of a confused one.
“What do you mean?” He asked, obviously at a complete loss.
“You asked me out for coffee.” You said whilst confidently crossing your arms over your chest.
“You seriously think that’s a front for something?” He almost found it amusing. The way you overanalyzed his motives.
“You don’t think a guy can be the least bit interested in you?” Before you had the chance to respond, Mark walked in with Christian behind him. That was your cue to leave, so you did without hesitation.
Sebastian Vettel, I hate you.
It had been a good while since you last had a real talk with Sebastian. A few years to be exact. The jabs and games were still happening. Neither of you had dared address any of it, but one thing remained stuck in your head like a broken record; “You don’t think a guy can be the least bit interested in you?” Every day and night, that thought passed through the thousands of others. It stood out. It was like the moon in a starry sky.
During those years, Michael had retired. It broke your heart, but seeing as Lewis replaced him; it wasn’t all that bad. Mercedes had gotten increasingly better as well— which meant that you had a better chance at beating Sebastian for every year that passed.
Lewis, being one of your closest friends on the grid, agreed to help you win your first championship. The Red Bulls had their run. It was time for Mercedes to shine. You needed to win.
“Lewis, I don’t think I can do it this race. There are too many low-speed corners. Red Bull will take this one home… Sebastian will take this one home.” You sat in your garage and moped as Lewis leaned against a pillar opposite you.
“It’s fine. They’re basically useless in high-speed corners this year. Besides, you already have 3 wins over him. Just one race won’t hurt. Well… it’ll sting, but see if you can land a podium, yeah?” Did you even want to try? You knew that Sebastian would mock you either way. It was almost as if your world didn’t revolve around the championship anymore. It was all about him. All about Sebastian.
“Yeah nah. I don’t think I can.” You stared at your feet. The race shoes were starting to feel clammy around them.
“Do you really believe that’s the mindset of a winner? No. Just think about doing whatever you can do. You don’t have to care about anyone else when you’re out there. Let yourself loose.” Lewis was right. You did care too much. You seldom crashed into anyone, all because you cared for their safety.
You ended up winning. You didn’t know how it happened or what you did to make it happen. Lewis’ words just kept swirling inside your brain; “Let yourself loose.”
You stood patiently and waited for the interviewer to finish up with P3 and P2, watching as Sebastian looked ever so disappointed. It was humorous. You felt amazing. The other wins you lorded over him didn’t feel that liberating. They felt good, but not great.
“—And here’s the deadly Mercedes! You were on fire today! We did not expect this aggressive approach from you. It was breathtaking. What did you do differently?” That was the question. What did you do differently? You stopped caring. You remembered you weren’t in the sport to make friends. You were there to win.
“I mean, I did what I had to do, really. I focused on winning and I listened to great advice. I simply just won.” The interviewer looked at you with a question mark etched onto her forehead but didn’t press further on that question.
“I know your first loss to Sebastian proved quite upsetting, would you say the tables have turned?” She smiled at you. It was clear from the beginning that she was on your side. After all, being the only female racer on the grid— you had a magnetic effect on fans of the sport.
“I can’t say for sure yet, but I can definitely hope!” Your voice was cheery and sweet, but that was just a front. You couldn’t wait for his downfall. Standing on that stage at the ceremony, watching all life drain from Sebastian’s eyes. That was your goal.
People had every right to tell you off, but at what cost if you didn’t care? Lewis had just helped you unlock the very thing that could potentially destroy the smug Red Bull driver.
Sebastian Vettel, I hate you.
The season was going smoothly. Fans roared in your favour and even threw gifts at you whenever you went on the scene. Yours and Sebastian’s roles had switched. You were the new fan favourite. Everyone could attest to that fact.
There was a slight thing bugging you, however. The many Instagram and Facebook fan pages that were dedicated to shipping you with Sebastian. They made edits, they came up with extreme theories… It was mortifying.
People in the Mercedes garage weren’t quiet either. If anything, they were even worse. Constantly bugging you about your “obvious” chemistry with Sebastian and whatnot. Which, in your opinion, didn’t exist.
You only harboured hate for the man. He was foul. Through and through… right?
Lies. Although you didn’t dare tell anyone, you didn’t quite hate him anymore. After letting go and caring less, you felt like you could finally see things from his perspective. It made you realize that he just wanted to win. Well, on top of mocking you. That was what had your mind in knots. He claimed he only teased you because of your reactions, but he refused to acknowledge your obvious distaste for it.
He had, however, begun to limit his snarky comments and cruel smirks. He actually started distancing himself. He rarely spoke to you and only ever interacted with you when the two of you landed a podium together.
You felt like something was missing.
“Hey, what are you thinking about?” Lewis asked. The two of you were sitting in your respective chairs in the cooldown room. He had somehow scored a P2 finish, with you upfront and Vettel in P3.
“Oh, nothing. Sorry. Zoned out, I guess?” You stretched your arms and wiped a bead of sweat off your forehead. Sebastian watched you throw the towel onto Lewis’ lap. Your teammate threw it back and the two of you shared a silly moment.
Something brewed inside the young Red Bull racer. He had been slacking off. He knew that all too well. His teammate, Daniel Ricciardo, was going to outscore him. There was nothing he could do about it. Not when Mercedes had gotten the upper hand. Not when you were in the way. The only pain he felt was from watching you with Lewis. He despised seeing you all happy-go-lucky. That was it. No, it wasn’t. He hated seeing you joke around with the other drivers. The sight of you laughing at a mechanic’s joke? His blood boiled.
The courage he once had was slipping. Much like his performance. He couldn’t focus on winning when losing was his only way to reach his ultimate goal.
“We should probably get going. Time to listen to your national anthem… yet again,” Lewis jokingly sighed and ruffled your hair, whilst you rolled your eyes with a chuckle.
You saw a cheerful sea of Mercedes employees. A 1-2 finish. Any team would be ecstatic if their drivers pulled that off.
Sebastian stood next to you. He couldn’t bring himself to muster even the smallest smile. Putting it mildly, his plan was starting to look like it had gone to shit. Not only was he losing the races, he was losing…
“Lew, look at this,” you grinned. Lewis obliged and was met with a burst of champagne. He let out a small yelp before picking up his bottle and spraying you.
Although he probably had a reason, you were beginning to hate how Sebastian never even spoke to you. The only solution; spray him. You poured a cold shot down his neck, to which he jerked his shoulders forward in an uncomfortable motion. It made him smile. Your heart swelled with some form of comfort in knowing you could make him feel some sort of joy.
Was that Lewis’ design all along? Making you see things from Vettel’s perspective? Perhaps. Whatever it was, you knew that your hatred for him had faded. This was replaced with stealing small glances and a spike in your heart rate when he was near.
You often felt your heart pump thickly in your throat. Your insides were littered with butterflies. You felt all jittery around him. Well, until he stopped with his flirting. He completely stopped interacting with you. It had your stomach in a twist. Were you too late? Did you not do enough?
“You don’t think a guy can be the least bit interested in you?”
You knew exactly who you had to see.
It was perfect, given that the next race wasn’t that coming weekend. You decided to give Michael a call, asking if you could see him at his house in Switzerland. Him being something of a father figure— said yes.
It was time to dig into the past. Not through the eyes of who you once were, but who you became. You were able to see things from every angle. Sebastian had clearly flirted out of sheer fun and mischief, but something underlined that cause. You. It was foolish of you to be so blinded with rage and hatred, that you couldn’t see him for what he was. A man who was struggling to keep your undivided attention. You weren’t yet convinced, but surely Michael would be able to set you straight.
You first greeted Corinna and the kids, who were not so much kids anymore. Michael came down to give you a hug and invite you to his cosy home office. He brewed some tea and placed it on the table.
“It’s so nice to see you again. I haven’t quite gotten used to retirement, but I did it once before, so I can definitely do it again!” He chuckled.
“I’m glad you’re still holding up well. I’m sure you’ll be thrilled to know that Mercedes is leading at the moment.” You smiled at him and took a sip of the tea he’d made for you.
“I have been following up. I watch almost every race, actually. Whenever my kids have time, we throw on the sports channel and watch you and Sebastian. That’s to say they always have time for that. In fact, my son, Mick— his dream is to race for Mercedes.” Mick was growing steadily and did karting regularly. You didn’t see why he wouldn’t be able to earn a seat at Mercedes eventually.
“About that… I came here for advice… regarding Sebastian.” As embarrassing as it was to beat around the bush, saying things like that outright was not exactly your forté.
“What, did he finally confess?” You were dumbstruck by his sudden question.
“Excuse me? What?”
“Well, you see, he was always coming to me and asking me how to get you to talk to him. I always said that he could figure things out for himself. By your reaction, however, I’m guessing that didn’t exactly work?” He leaned back in his chair and rubbed the bridge of his nose with his thumb and index fingers.
“He was crazy about you, I remember. The more riled up you got, the more he’d come to me for advice. It became routine for us to sit and talk, actually.” You had your suspicions, but never did you know that he was actually into you. Those fan pages and edits could’ve only fueled it. Your heart was beating faster and faster. It felt like it was nearly about to burst. Definitely, because you didn’t like him like that. You were just starting to sympathize. Nothing romantic. At all. No. Nothing.
“You know what I think?” Michael added when he saw your tomato-red face.
“I think he’s losing those races on purpose. Just to satisfy your needs. For a long time, he wanted to earn as many world championships as myself, but recently… something else seems to be stuck in his mind. I think his priorities lie elsewhere now.” You ran your fingers through your hair in frustration. Your heart couldn’t stop going faster than your car on race day.
“I also think you may feel something for him too.”
“Thank you, Michael. Truly… but I have to go.” You booked the earliest flight out. Needing some time alone with your thoughts.
Michael was almost always right. In this situation? There was no way he wasn’t.
Sebastian Vettel, I hate you.
You were back on the top again. The podium was the exact same as the last race. The celebration was grand. It was all pretty much the same. Your focus was more on getting time alone with Sebastian.
After everything had died down, you decided to visit the Red Bull motorhome and knocked on Vettel’s door.
“What are you doing here?” He asked with a surprised look on his face, upon opening the door.
“We need to talk. Invite me in?” He let you walk past him.
“What is it? Are you here to blackmail me?”
“What? No. Why would I ever do that?” Your face grimaced at his idea.
“I don’t know, I’m just not feeling that great right now.” He was all mopey and looked as if someone had sucked all the life force out of him.
“I actually came to talk to you about… um… well, us.” You were fiddling with your fingers in your lap, too scared to look him in the eyes.
“Us?”
“I spoke to Michael.” You weren’t sure how to lead the conversation from start to finish.
“You did?”
“He told me about everything.” Your eyes met his in a flash of awkwardness.
“Look, that was a long time ago and—”
“I don’t hate you anymore,” you cut off. His eyes lit up at your words.
“What do you mean by that?” Was he really that desperate to hear you say it, or were you too scared to say it?
“I don’t know… I guess it means you can start flirting with me again or whatever…” you mumbled sheepishly. It felt so embarrassing to tell him face to face. Your heart was thumping louder than the pit stops Mercedes did. Your face was redder than the Ferraris.
“Could we see where this takes us? I mean, if you’d like.” He seemed to be just as embarrassed about it as you. It was kind of cute, actually.
“Yes… I’d like that.” Although the conversation was surprisingly short, it left a huge impact on Sebastian. He was more or less depressed on the podium but the interviews that followed? He was a firecracker. He acted as if he’d won the lottery, smiling like an idiot and stealing glances from you here and there. It was an odd but welcome, warm feeling that spread throughout your body.
Who would’ve thought? Both Lewis and Michael were able to set you straight. You used to care too much. You used to think about yourself only, when it came to Sebastian. It was impossible to put yourself in his shoes until Lewis taught you otherwise. Your feelings? You would’ve let yourself crush them over time, had it not been for your talk with your mentor.
Much time passed, and you had won races upon races. You were still getting much-needed advice on everything from races to simple daily routines, by Michael. Sometimes you went to Lewis. He was easier to reach and you were always able to have quick conversations with him before the races. Everything had accumulated to the current momentum. The glory that you were about to relish in. The people you were about to make proud.
You sat in your seat with Sebastian on your side. He had only recently asked you to be his. It took some dates and deep, meaningful talks before you got there, but the wait was worth it. Life had never felt better. You were completely enamoured with Sebastian. The feeling was more than mutual. He was helplessly and irrevocably in love with you.
He was called to the stage as 3rd overall. The crowd cheered, but you cheered the loudest. If you had told your past self that you would be cheering him on at the ceremony, you would’ve never believed yourself.
Lewis was called next and you were called last. Sebastian couldn’t stop smiling at you. People were cheering and you were in a state of euphoria.
Your trophy was the biggest, brightest, and most grand in the room. However, it could never compare to the adoration on your boyfriend’s face, as he saw you hoisting it up into the air.
After all the interviews and the longest ride back to your hotel, you crashed onto your shared bed with your lover. The two of you stared at the blank ceiling, feeling a state of absolute tranquillity. The two of you had come so far.
“I’m so proud of you.” Sebastian turned his head to face you.
“Thank you, Seb.” You followed suit.
“Do you think we wasted too much time?” You asked. In all honesty, a tinge of guilt hit you every now and then. If only you had come to terms with yourself and your feelings earlier…
“All that time was worth hearing you tell me that you love me. I don’t think we wasted even a single moment. Everything that has happened so far… you know, it all built up to this.” You smiled at him and pulled him into a loving kiss.
Sebastian Vettel, I love you.
𝘾𝙝𝙚𝙘𝙠 𝙩𝙝𝙚 𝙧𝙪𝙡𝙚𝙨 𝙖𝙣𝙙 𝙧𝙚𝙜𝙪𝙡𝙖𝙩𝙞𝙤𝙣𝙨 𝙗𝙚𝙛𝙤𝙧𝙚 𝙧𝙚𝙦𝙪𝙚𝙨𝙩𝙞𝙣𝙜 𝙥𝙡𝙚𝙖𝙨𝙚!
𝙃𝙚𝙧𝙚’𝙨 𝙩𝙝𝙚 𝙢𝙖𝙨𝙩𝙚𝙧𝙡𝙞𝙨𝙩
𝙃𝙚𝙧𝙚’𝙨 𝙩𝙝𝙚 𝙩𝙖𝙜𝙡𝙞𝙨𝙩! (𝙄𝙛 𝙮𝙤𝙪 𝙬𝙤𝙪𝙡𝙙 𝙡𝙞𝙠𝙚 𝙩𝙤 𝙜𝙚𝙩 𝙤𝙣, 𝙥𝙡𝙚𝙖𝙨𝙚 𝙬𝙧𝙞𝙩𝙚 𝙞𝙣 𝙩𝙝𝙚 𝙘𝙤𝙢𝙢𝙚𝙣𝙩𝙨, 𝙙𝙢𝙨, 𝙤𝙧 𝙖𝙨𝙠𝙨: 𝙒𝙝𝙞𝙘𝙝 𝙙𝙧𝙞𝙫𝙚𝙧(𝙨) 𝙖𝙣𝙙 𝙬𝙝𝙞𝙘𝙝 𝙩𝙮𝙥𝙚(𝙨) 𝙤𝙛 𝙛𝙞𝙘𝙨 𝙮𝙤𝙪 𝙬𝙤𝙪𝙡𝙙 𝙡𝙞𝙠𝙚 𝙩𝙤 𝙗𝙚 𝙩𝙖𝙜𝙜𝙚𝙙 𝙞𝙣.)
prize
{toto wolff x fem!reader x lewis hamilton}
in which toto gifts lewis his most prized possession
warnings: smut with no plot in sight, threesome sex, free-use/sharing, blowjobs/intense deep throating with some references to light gagging + choking / hand over throat and swallowing, voyeurism/exhibitionism with m!masturbation, fingering, unprotected + risky/irresponsible sex, some vague dom/sub controlling dynamics with use of “sir” + “good girl”, some dirty talk, possessive behaviour and ownership talk that is concerning to feminism.
a/n: sometime last year, I was writing something that was so dirty I wanted to create an entirely new blog so I wouldn’t be associated with it. This is the fic that spurred that impulse. i promise I don’t usually write filth like this, but I was possessed by the need to get this out of my system.
They got you splayed out flat on the huge bed that sits in the middle of the hotel room, your tight skirt hiked up to your hips, legs spread. The taller man stands in front of you, a balled fist under his chin as he contemplates how delicious you look, naked and wet for him and his prized, 7-time (or 8, depending on who you ask) world champion who’s still in disbelief, having come straight from his most recent podium finish.
“See, Lewis,” Toto’s deep voice reverberates through the room, making your skin pebble with awareness of its sensual timbre, “I told you I’d get you a fitting prize for your win today.”
Lewis’ eyes glint with amusement, tongue flicking out to swipe over his bottom lip that’s still sticky with champagne. “She’s so pretty, Toto. She yours?”
“Mmmm.” He nods in agreement, reaching over to slide his hand up the soft curve of your inner thigh, making you shiver with want. His hands are so big and warm as they inch up to cup your pussy between your legs, pressing into you with skilful, familiar hands that have you bucking up into his sensual touch. Those long, elegant fingers stroke between your folds, teasing you until you cry out and beg, “please, Toto!”
He withdraws instantly, and you groan from the loss of his touch. When he speaks, it’s unbearably deep and authoritative. “What did you just call me?”
“I’m s-sorry,” you whimper, feeling the shame burn in your cheeks, “p-please… sir.”
He crooks a grin at you, voice still holding traces of his stern discipline. “That’s much better.”
And with that admission, he licks his fingers, already wet with you, so that they’re even slicker so he can push them into you, curling up and rubbing that perfect spot inside you that’s got you arching, undulating against his hand. Toto’s smile widens when he feels your walls clenching around his fingers, endeavouring to slide a third finger inside the tight squeeze of you. He darts a look at Lewis, as if ready to issue orders over a team radio, and Lewis is so quick on the uptake, understandingly perfectly what Toto wants and starts stripping himself from fashionably loose top. He’s beautiful - so muscular and taut everywhere, and deliciously hard where it matters most. You can’t tear your eyes away from the way his fingers - tattooed, long, elegant - peel his clothes away with such a finesse.
“Make him feel so good with your mouth,” comes Toto’s order, his fingers still working you, and you twist up into the pleasurable rhythm of his touch, and the prospect of obeying him, of getting to taste his champion whom you’ve had your eye on for longer than you cared to admit.
Lewis steps forward, not shy in the very least, but you sense his apprehension in crossing this line with you tonight. That, you think, won’t do at all. He needs to know you want this - you’re eager to show him how happy everyone is after his victory - how pleased Toto in particular is.
Toto can be very generous with his gifts when he wants to be. And you never want to disappoint.
Your tongue licks Lewis’ dick from the base all the way to the tip, tracing the vein that runs across his cock so beautifully. He makes such encouraging sounds as you worship him with your mouth, with kisses and long sweeps of your tongue, until he’s fully hard, and he’s got his hands cupped at the back of your head with gentle persuasion.
“Such a good girl. Showing him what your mouth can do, hm?” Toto slides his thumb over your clit, rubbing a sinister, torturous little pattern that makes you moan as you gaze up at Lewis, watching his eyes go half-lidded with desire as you take his cock further into your mouth, swallowing around him. “That’s it, sweetheart,” Toto praises, fuelling your desire to please him and Lewis even more. “That’s my good girl.”
You suck Lewis in your mouth so deep that you have to concentrate to suppress your gag reflex. His lips part, eyes darkening as you reach for his hip and pull him even further inside you, until he’s past the tight squeeze of your throat and you choke slightly, eyes watering from the sensation of him buried in you fully. This blowjob, coupled with Toto’s relentless fingers fucking you, teasing you until you’re mindless, makes you gasp out, making rough noises of struggle as you grow overwhelmed with the sensations they’re building inside you.
Lewis brushes away the stray tears that fall from your eyes, pulling back slightly to ease your discomfort. “You look so fucking pretty like this…” he says, flicking his tongue over his lower lip.
You whimper, pushing back to find that satisfying girth of his cock, the pressing it to the back of your throat again, and this time it makes his dick throb. You gag slightly, the sound making Toto hum encouragingly, and so you take more and hold back the reflex that’s pushing his cock out. You keep Lewis in the squeeze of your throat for long seconds, until he’s swearing, pulling out desperately because it feels too good, and you’ll make him want to come too quickly. You can taste the musky sweetness of his precum all over your tongue when he slides out, his cock a mess with your saliva.
“Fuck.” He says, eyes shiny, staring at you with an incredulity that feels like the best form of flattery.
“Got her all ready for you, Lewis.” Toto withdraws his fingers and, with a wry little smile on his face, draws P1 in your own wetness in the blank canvas of your inner thigh, and Lewis traces it with his own fingers, his face aglow with pride at the memory of his victory.
“On your back, pretty girl,” Lewis says, and you hurry to comply. He gets on top of you, his warmth engulfing you. You tip your head back to watch Toto press his palm over the bulge at his pants, as if to ease the ache there, and you whimper, reaching out for him.
Toto shakes his head, settling into the chair he pulls up next to the bed to watch you two. “You’re all his tonight, do you understand?”
“Yes, sir,” you whisper, flushing at the thought of Toto sharing you so freely, especially when he’s ordinarily so possessive. You turn back to look at Lewis, who’s so handsome especially up close, and you wind your arms around his neck to pull him down for a kiss that’s tentative, sweet - showing Toto exactly what he’s missing out on tonight. Lewis deepens the kiss with a hand cupped to your jaw, and you moan when his tongue slides against yours - you know he can taste himself on your tongue.
At the side of the room, you hear Toto unzip his pants, and when you turn to look, Lewis pulls your face back to him. “Eyes on me,” he says, a tad sharply, and you shiver at the authority you hear in his voice, “you’re mine tonight, remember?”
You swallow, feeling heat rush to your cheeks at the thought of fully surrendering to him. He rubs his nose against yours, and you exhale at the feel of his soft lips coming to kiss you again - this time, it’s this intoxicating, drug-like thing that makes you dizzy with want. “Lewis,” you beg, stroking your hands down his smooth back, feeling the shift of his muscles underneath your touch. “Yes. All yours.”
Lewis pulls back from the kiss - raises his eyebrows. And you bite down on your bottom lip, knowing exactly what he wants.
You take a steadying breath, before telling him, “I’m all yours - sir.”
At the side, you can hear Toto’s hitched breath, as if he finds this transgressive act of you calling Lewis the name you reserve only for Toto so unbearably, ridiculously arousing. Behind that, the sound of his hand coming to stroke his cock with teasing slowness - as if he wants to savour this - to prolong this.
Lewis smiles into your kiss, his hands now gliding across your thigh, guiding you to wrap around his hips so that he can be so close to you - his prize. His cock is so hard against your belly, but he seems content to grind up slowly against you - letting the heat build in torturous laps. You whimper in frustration, pushing back into him, the ache between your legs too much to ignore any longer. “So impatient,” he teases, “are you this whiny with Toto?”
“Worse,” Toto says, the low rumble of his voice an erotic reminder that he’s relinquished you tonight. “She’s always so fucking eager for it.”
Lewis chuckles, letting his hand wander past the slope of your thigh, up to your slick folds that part easily for his fingers. You gasp when he finds your clit, making messy circles as his free hand finds the curve of your breast to cup its weight, tease your nipple into an even stiffer point. You arch your back, bucking into his touch. “So good for me,” he murmurs, glancing over at Toto now, and you follow his gaze, meeting your boyfriend’s eyes and seeing them glazed over with affection, with yearning, with an arousal that you’ve never quite seen before. Toto’s hand’s gripping his cock in twisting, deft strokes. Your belly tightens, jaw going slack as you watch, hypnotised, feeling yourself tip past the point of no return, having Lewis’ fingers on your clit, watching Toto touch himself to this - you come all too easily, melting into the sheets with endless shudders and a wet rush over Lewis’ fingers. You can’t help the mess you make, and judging from the look on Toto and Lewis’s face - they can’t help admiring it.
“Don’t keep her waiting, Lewis,” Toto says, an order that’s clearly for his own benefit too. From the way his breathing’s gone ragged, a flush spreading down the open collar of his button down shirt, you know he wants to come, too.
Lewis nods, keeping his eyes on his boss as he whispers into your ear, “he likes to watch, huh?”
You grin at him. “Turn me over and fuck me, and you’ll find out just how much he likes it.”
Lewis laughs. He’s left the skin along your belly sticky with precum, from where his cock’s been grinding against you, and you feel an answering pull to have him make more of a sticky mess all over you. Inside you.
He turns you over gently in his hands, until you’re on your belly, in direct view of Toto. Facing him.
Toto winks at you, and stills his hand. You lick your lips and gaze at the erection in his lap, already beaded with moisture from the tip. Fuck, you mouth to him, and from the way he smirks, you know he feels the exact way you do now.
Lewis slides a hand in your hair and tugs, making you cry out in surprise. He kisses your cheek, and you wriggle back into his cock, sliding it along the cleft of your ass. Back and forth. Toto spits into his hand and you watch him drag the shiny smear across his cock with fascination. “Need you, sir,” you say, unable to distinguish exactly who you’re talking about - because maybe it’s not just Toto or Lewis - but somehow both, fulfilling exactly what you want. What you need.
Lewis tightens his grip in your hair, guiding his cock with his free hand to the slippery heat he finds between your legs now. You spread your legs for him, unable to keep at bay the shameless wanting you feel - intensified only by the fact that Toto’s watching you two, touching himself to this.
Lewis gazes at Toto with a keen eye, as if needing that final push towards the finish line, an extra injection of assurance and confidence, and all Toto does is to give the most subtle of nods, and to tell him, “go on, Lewis.” He grins in a way that befits his name - teasingly wolfish. “Push, push.”
Lewis hums, “understood.” And he does. Oh he fucking does - pressing thick and hot into you, with a grunt that you echo as well. He feels so solid inside you, and it almost aches to have him fill you up. Your face scrunches up with that ecstasy of feeling all of him and you grip the sheets while you breathe through this new sensation.
Above you, Lewis is pressed against your back, practically vibrating with energy. You clench around him when Toto groans softly, squeezing at the head of his cock until a tantalising drip of precum leaks out. You want to lick it all up, and the look in Toto’s eyes promises you that you can - later.
Lewis sucks in a breath, and starts to move inside you, using the grip he has in your hair as leverage to fuck you deeper, rougher. You cry out with each thrust he makes, keeping your eyes on Toto the whole time, the lines of his face becoming more pronounced when he’s this turned on. “Such a good girl,” he says, and you bask in his praise, tightening around Lewis in a way that makes him groan.
Lewis rewards you with kisses littered along your shoulders, your neck, finding a particularly sensitive spot that makes you melt into the bed as you exhale a trembly breath for him.
“You can bite, too,” Toto chimes in, and your whole body goes taut - he looks so smug, being so thoroughly in tune with your body that he knows what you need even before you need it. You could come like this, to Toto’s open adoration of you and Lewis together, to his orders, to the way Lewis fucks into you with the perfect balance of roughness and tender care. Lewis is no fool - he’ll take every advantage that’s offered by his boss. He snaps up the instruction with ease, sinking his teeth into your nape and sucking at the soreness he leaves. You moan, desperate now because your body feels like it doesn’t belong to you any longer, it’s so molten-hot - pure liquid desire fissioning through you. Toto’s fingers speed up now, and you want him and the rewards he’ll give you later, when Lewis is gone.
“You know he saved it all up for you,” Toto’s voice turns conspiratorial, “he doesn’t fuck before a race.”
You turn to look up at Lewis - his sparkly, pretty eyes, the determination underscored in them, and lean up to kiss him. He deserves this so much - his patience paying off incredibly well. “Don’t stop…” you whisper between the kiss, and Lewis nods, chasing your mouth with his, sucking on your bottom lip. “Don’t stop until you get what you want. What you deserve, sir.”
He pulls back, eyes bright and eager with possibility. He uses that hand in your hair to turn you back to Toto, leaning in to echo the same words Toto issued just moments earlier. “Go on baby,” Lewis whispers, mischievous now, “show him what your mouth can do.”
You gasp. “Holy fuck - yes.”
Toto grins with delight, like Lewis’d just overtaken two cars in a tight corner. He gets up and you don’t waste time obeying - getting what you’d been wanting all evening - taking his cock between your lips now, sucking him in a way that you know he likes. He fills your mouth like no other, and you swallow around him, wanting nothing more than his cum on your tongue, on your face. Lewis doesn’t stop fucking you, hips snapping into yours eagerly, purposefully, and it’s delicious, the dual sensation of being filled at two ends.
Lewis gently eases your head down into Toto’s cock, and you relax your throat, swallowing and breathing slowly until he’s lodged firmly in the tight column. Toto grunts - he likes this, and ordinarily you can’t hold it for too long, but you’re eager to please, to keep this pleasurable for him. For Lewis.
But then Lewis moves his hand from your hair to your throat, and your eyes widen as you realise what he’s doing - trailing fingers along the bulge that Toto’s cock makes in your neck, as if he’s fascinated by how hot it is, how tight your throat must feel, and you start to shake - it’s too much to be touched like this. You pull back instantly, catching your breath, feeling an answering wet rush between your legs.
Your face feels hot when Toto tenderly strokes it, wiping away some of the spit that gathers along your chin, and you nuzzle into his large hand, feeling so comforted. “You liked that,” he observes, and you readily nod.
Lewis grins, wrapping a hand lightly around your throat now. “Can you do it again, sweetheart?”
You make a rough little noise and nod, and this time when you take Toto down your throat again, you know Lewis feels it go in, the same bulge that has you swallowing around, struggling to contain all of Toto’s cock inside you. This feels so hot to you, a challenge that you’re willing to conquer because it gets Toto flustered, that icy control he always has seeming to fracture at the edges when you’re this dirty for him.
Lewis moans, and you tighten around him. He’s going to come. You’re going to come. And Toto… he’s losing control. Fast. Pulling back the slightest before thrusting once into your open mouth now, and-
He swears, and shudders.
The hot spurt of him comes so quick, you’re caught off guard. But you hold him deep inside as much as you can, only pulling back slightly as his cock throbs and he makes this erotically-charged moan when he coats the back of your throat, his eyes never leaving yours as you swallow, suppressing the reflex to gag. He looks so wrecked with ecstasy that you can’t wait to do this again.
Lewis continues to fuck into you, biting your shoulder as if needing to find a distraction, reaching between your legs to drag some of your shared wetness over your clit so he can rub it in messy, desperate circles. You thrash against him as you pull off from Toto’s cock with a satisfying gasp of breath, filling with relief from the ache in your throat and jaw. Lewis murmurs hotly into your skin, “so pretty, fuck… so incredibly good for us,” and you’re shivering now, wanting to having him spill into you with such a savage desire that you push back urgently into him.
“Gonna come,” you warn him, and he groans in return, not stopping for a goddamn moment, letting you ride the momentum you need, that he needs.
Toto cups your face, panting, letting you peer up at him. “God, you’re going to come so hard for him, aren’t you?”
You whine almost pathetically. He’s right. He’s so fucking right.
The orgasm crashes into you with thunderous force, and you cry out hoarsely into Toto’s hands, tears and agonised pleasure written all over your face. The room echoes with your mingled scream of Toto’s name, of Lewis’, with a “sir” and “holy fucking shit” thrown in for good measure. You come and don’t stop coming until Lewis himself is moaning, shoving into you erratically and spilling himself into you. Risky. Reckless. Fucking hot.
You wonder if Toto will make him clean you up, and the thought makes you shiver. You collapse against each other - breathlessly satiated.
The exhaustion that sets in after is profound, but there’s something inherently satisfying in having Lewis pull you over to the centre of the bed, while Toto climbs in at the side, sandwiching you between him and Lewis while he hands you water that you sip at, gratefully, before passing it over to Lewis.
Toto looks so fucking proud of the two of you, as if it’s a shared podium, and he tells you this in the soft kisses he makes at the sore points of your throat and jaw, licking tenderly as if to soothe over the ache. “You did so well,” he murmurs, but there’s no telling if he’s talking only to you, or to Lewis as well. There’s a faint rumble in his chest when you make appreciative noises for his gentle aftercare. His hands stroke over your bare hip, the curve of your waist, and you whimper softly, curling into him. Lewis snuggles in too, spooning you into Toto, sleepily nuzzling his face into your hair, dreaming, you imagine, of future podiums with you and Toto.
—
so happy to purge this fic from my system!! quite a different vibe from the last Lewis & Toto fic I wrote. also yes, I know this wasn’t the threesome that was promised but my Charlos one will be up as soon as I can manage it!
been thinking a lot about threesomes these days if I’m honest. That threesome poll really got me thinking 👀
would love to hear what you thought of this, if you’d be so kind 💛
love ives ✨
masterlist
i am gonna Need your thoughts on senna. because all those pics of him in the speedo have me thinking boat sex and phew
ANON U REACHED DIRECTLY INTO MY BRAIN THANK U. @diorleclerc i think this anon has read our DMs :/// also, here's the full version of my profile pic, since it is Beautifully relevant to this ask 🥰 first ayrton ask of the blog!!
afab reader, mostly gn but one fem gendered term used in portuguese
while i would personally lean towards Pool Sex as a concept, boat sex is also vvvv good, this man was on boats a LOT?
you're trying to enjoy the hot brazilian summer weather, lounging out on the yacht in the harbour, maybe reading, or just sunbathing in your bikini
ayrton's in the sea, as usual. insane water baby moments for the aries fire sign.
you smile over at him as he climbs back onto the boat - until he starts flicking the cold water off his body onto you, shaking his head right above you to shower you in the water falling from his hair
and when you squeal out "ayrton--!" amidst laughter and try to move away from the water, he manhandles you up in his arms and flicks more water onto you
afterwards, you're practically sat in his lap, a shiver crossing your body both from the cold water and the way his large hands circle your waist as he smirks at you
"are you cold, gatinha?" he murmurs, his thumbs dipping below the elastic of your bikini bottoms, chuckling when you nod back at him, breathless. "let's warm you up, hm?"
your hands holding onto his biceps, steadying yourself as he presses two fingers shallowly into your pussy before dragging the wetness to your clit and rubbing small circles
one hand playing with your clit, making you drop your head to his freckled shoulder and whine his name
the other arm circling your waist and pulling you closer, to the point you can feel his hardening cock pressing against you
patronisingly coos at you as you whimper, pleading for more, your hips beginning to rock against his hand in a steady rhythm
your sounds grow in volume as you edge closer to your orgasm, and ayrton leans down to muffle them in a devouring kiss, his teeth pulling at your bottom lip
pulls away from your clit just as you're on the edge, and you whine a protest into his mouth
though it's immediately turned into a high-pitched moan at the back of your throat as he slides two fingers inside your wet cunt, curling them upwards and finger-fucking you to the orgasm you hoped for
you're brought back to earth by the sensation of being flipped onto your back, ayrton pulling your bikini bottoms off and hooking your legs around his waist with a grin
even after the first orgasm, the stretch as he pushes his cock into you is delicious, and you know you'll leave crescent-moon indents in his arms and shoulders where you're holding onto him
the pace he sets is immediately relentless, a bruising grip on your hips to match how your nails are digging into him
occasional words and half-phrases in portuguese, amidst his grunts and moans as his damp hair falls into his face
leans in as he nears his own orgasm, and you think he's going to kiss you - no, he's placing a bite to the crux of your neck, one that you know will flower into rich purples and reds
watches his cum drip out of you, all smug. he likes marking his territory.
in which sebastian and his ex-wife are still in love with each other
c/w: angst, mentions of an absent father (not intentionally), divorce
w/c: 1k words
based on this request
You hated that you still loved your ex-husband, your first love, your first everything - He was everything to you. You had taken the heartbreaking decision to file for divorce from Sebastian when he had signed for Aston Martin, you couldn't bare to spend more time alone than you already did due to the nature of his care, as much as it broke your heart to make the decision that you did, you knew that you had to; otherwise you would end up in a vicious cycle of loneliness, spending nights upon nights sleeping in what felt like an empty bed without your husband.
You sighed as you sat down on the couch, the days events finally catching up with you since you didn't have a minute to rest. Between work and your other commitments, you found yourself rarely having a moment to yourself these days - and it was on these days you found yourself missing Sebastian, missing the way that he would make all your worries disappear in an instant and missing the immense comfort he provided. As if adding salt to the wound, you turned the TV channel from some kids channel and you saw his face.
Up upon the podium stood your ex-husband, his trademark mile wide grin on his face as he held the first place trophy, raising it up above his head in celebration. Watching him broke your heart all over again, you remembered his red bull days when you were both young, head over heels in love with each other, barely married and dumb with love - He dedicated every podium win to you, claiming that you were his good luck charm wherever he was, even if you couldn't be with him. You felt your eyes welling up with tears as you watched him pop the bottle of champagne, of course the first race you managed to watch following your divorce, he would win, just your luck, right? Right.
For some reason, you felt like torturing yourself even more than you already were by even just watching the race, and decided that you would watch the post-race interviews, just because you felt like driving the knife already deep in your heart, in even further. You watched Sebastian talk with an interviewer about how the race had gone, how he felt about winning.
"And it was never any secret that you always dedicated your podiums to your wife, Y/N, is that still something you do?" You felt your heart stop at the question. You and Sebastian had been very quiet about your divorce and had managed to keep it under wraps, neither of you wanted something as heartbreaking and difficult as this out in the world, no, that was your business, no one else's. Sebastian gave a nervous chuckle and then a smile, he knew he had to be honest, and he was speaking from the bottom of his heart, hoping that if you were watching that you would see how sincere he was being.
"Yes of course, I love Y/N very much," He stopped there for now, feeling himself well up at the fact that he still held so much love for you, yet his career had driven you away from him. He understood though, your decision had torn you apart and you knew that he loved you, you just couldn't handle him being gone more than he was around. "I dedicate this, and every podium to her, I love her so much." Sebastian smiled, tears in his eyes as he finished up with the interviewer.
You couldn't hold it together any longer, feeling your strength dissolve, you burst into tears at his confession - He still loved you and probably always would. Over your crying, you missed the sound of the footsteps coming towards you, only looking up when you felt two small hands patting your hair.
"Mama?"
You looked up at your daughter, who was her fathers spitting image - curly blonde hair, the same stunning blue eyes, she was all Sebastian.
"You okay?" Her small voice was laced with concern as she saw your tear stained face, a small pout on her face as she feared what had upset her mama. You sniffled as you nodded, lifting her up for her to be sitting on your lap, leaning on your chest.
"I'm okay, baby, I promise," You assured her, smoothing her hair down. "You're not sleepy, huh? Too much sugar at your birthday party I think, princess," A small smile graced your face at her small giggle and the shake of her head. "Mhm, yeah, I think so."
"No, mama," She replied, giggling as you tickled her sides. You swore hearing your little girls laughter almost made you forget how much you missed her father. "Why wasn't papa at my party, mama?" She turned her big blue eyes up at you, a sad pout on her face at the absence of her beloved papa from her 5th birthday party. You swallowed the lump in your throat that appeared at the sudden emergence of her question. "Did he not want to be there?"
"No, Meine Liebe, your papa had a race this weekend, but I promise you when he gets back on Monday he'll here to pick you up and you get to spend the whole week with him, doesn't that sound fun?" You told her, watching as she perked up a little at the mention of getting to spend a whole week with her father. "He is really sorry that he couldn't be there today, honey, he can't help it." First you were making excuses for him to yourself, and now you were making them to your daughter, the tiny human that you had created together.
"I miss him, mama," She said, giving you a tired yawn as she rested her head on your shoulder, sleepiness finally catching up with the small girl. You sighed sadly.
"I know, I miss him too baby girl."
I can’t fix him but I could fuck him.
Summary: Max finds himself with a crush on his substitute race engineer but will she shake his form or keep him on track with his trajectory, or maybe they'll be the most cohesive race engineer and driver pairing so far.
Themes: slightly-mean!Max followed by obsessive!Max
Edit: No part 2 requests please
Initially Max wasn't eager for GP to be replaced if only for a couple weekends due to GP needing some time off due to some matters to do with his family. But when he was introduced to her on Wednesday, the young woman was familiar. He'd seen her around the factory and even seen her which GP.
"So you're going to help me win a race?" Max questions once they're left in each others company and she doesn't miss the doubt in his tone about her abilities.
"You think they're trust me with this job if they thought I couldn't?" Y/n shoots back but she's visibly flustered over it. Upset or embarrassed Max can't quite tell.
"I think you need to prove it." Max shrugs earning a thick swallow before she turns and tries to actually handle this as she figures is the right way. Just get on with the job, do what a race engineer does.
Max continued to find no end of entertainment through watching her stutter and stumble through talking to him. There's been exchange glances between the other engineers and mechanics noticing Max's slightly unhinged approach to speaking to the substitute race engineer.
But when the time comes for her to really step up onto the pitfall for FP1, a test to see if she can handle the role. Max almost finds himself shocked at the difference of her confidence and tone.
He does decide to keep his slightly flirtier and more non-f1 related comments off of the radio channel.
But once he's out there do a debrief and then once they step out y/n finds herself almost cornered by the champion.
"You surprised me." Max admits watching her face contort to a frown.
"I'm not so terrible at my job that you have to keep declaring you won't listen to me?" Y/n questions crossing her eyes but avoiding looking him directly in the eye. "We have to go over some things before FP2."
"Please, lead the way." Max smirks back to his usual persona that he's grown to have with the young woman.
Y/n tries to keep herself from losing focus when it comes to Max standing so close to her as they speak that he is actually completed pressed to her side. She wishes she was doing a better job at hiding her smile when he makes certain comments but there's something about his presence which is stopping her from feeling so uncomfortable. Even if he's not the nicest man on the planet to her.
Her reprieve comes in the form of FP2.
"You two seem to have hit things off." Hugh comments as she moves up onto the pit wall for the practice.
"Well I think FP1 seemed to prove to him that I'm not as useless as he wanted to think I am." Y/n states then swallowing thickly. "It's quite nice working with him."
"Good." Hugh nods with a small smile.
-
Y/n sighs ahead of the race as she talks with Max as they stand on the grid. Making sure he knows his stuff, which he obviously does but she doesn't want to be the reason that Max loses.
"It's alright, y/n. If I'm not first, we know you aren't needed again." Max smiles patting her shoulder watching her face drop and she looks like she's about to be sick and he realises how badly timed. "I am joking."
"I knew that." Y/n groans then finding herself pulled into a hug as Max chuckles and rubs her back.
"Do not worry. You are ok." Max assures her while she smiles nervously. "We will win this and you will come up on the podium."
"No-"
"Yes." Max cuts in still holding her in a hug which she is very aware of being caught on camera.
"Alright, Max." Y/n states sucking in a breath and patting his back in gesture.
Max eventually disappears for the national anthem then returning to climb in his car with y/n being gestured at to come closer. Turns out he just wants to ask about the initial first corner plan which is really no different to usual.
They all walk to the pit wall leaving ahead of the formation lap.
-
As predicted, Max wins and he does actually force y/n to climb over the barrier with his aid when he sees that she had tried to avoid being the one up on the podium up with him.
The rest of the team encouraged her too and she found herself actually being tugged with Max.
"You were great, you deserve to be up here." Max states as they walk up to the cool down room.
"I don't-Hi." Y/n greets when she sees the two McLaren drivers already there. "Congratulations, you guys did amazing."
Always so polite and kind as they both seem intrigued by the new face.
"Y/n is filling in for GP temporarily so I said she should come up on the podium." Max explains then moving to put his stuff down, picking up the cap with a bottle of water as they begin to discuss the race as they watch some clips.
Y/n is almost grateful she falls by the wayside. Then eventually they're called for the podium.
"You'll go out last, after me." Max explains as they call for Oscar to go out first. "Move over to the little podium on the far side."
Y/n nods swallowing thickly, trying to ignore Lando's smirk from the side of her eye when she feels one of Max's hands holding her waist and rubbing it slightly. Annoyingly it does work to ease her nerves.
Lando goes out next followed by Max and she follows a couple seconds afterwards, once she is on, she gets shot a smile from Max before moving onto the podium.
Being given the trophy she does admittedly almost drop it, not expecting the weight of it or for it to be so hard to hold in one hand.
When the champagne spraying occurs, she finds herself very much targeted by the Dutchman and she's definitely surprised by the cold temperature.
Then they tap bottles all exchanging congratulations before the podium group photo before they jump down, Max taking both bottles after watching y/n struggling to carry the trophy in one hand.
"I don't have any other clothes." Y/n states looking very much with a grimace while Max laughs lightly and pats her back lightly as they get down to the team again.
"We will find you some clean clothes." Max laughs, while guiding her in front of himself.
-
"You should just come with me." Max states as they walk out of the debrief.
"I should?" Y/n laughs nervously, having predicted this and seen it coming really.
"Yes, you should."
"Wouldn't be very appropriate." Y/n mumbles swallowing thickly while Max frowns at her words. "Max..."
"Don't do that. Don't be stupid." Max instructs making her force her eyes up to look at him. "-Not stupid, but you know what I mean. You haven't actually said no."
Because in all honestly there's two reasons she's denying this is because he was a bit of a dick and because dating a driver given her choice of career seems like a questionable move.
"You should just say yes." Max shrugs since she's already moving to walk with her.
"You didn't actually ask a question for me to say yes or no to." Y/n shrugs earning a small smile from the driver.
"It wasn't really a question, more of a demand." Max shoots back without a moment of hesitation. "I'm just saying you should."
Y/n sighs before she bites her lip a little before tilting her head then sighing softly as she slides her hand into his hand. Her silent way of complying with his demand but she'd be lying if she said it didn't feel quite nice to walk out of there with him.
-
GP isn't back for the following weekend which means y/n is in the hot seat on the pitwall again.
"We have y/n as Max's race engineer and honestly for anyone listening to his radio and onboard, you can hearing them getting quite bickery with each other. It's certainly making for some brilliant entertainment." Ted states with a small laugh as he's brought in on the broadcast. "Max and GP sometimes have their moments but it's almost as if Max is purposely trying to annoy y/n."
"Well we all know the rumours between them two." Crofty chuckles since it has been going around with Max's continuous touching and slightly possessive looks to any other man who seems to dare to speak to y/n.
"Max, box." Y/n instructs sternly.
"Pit confirm." Max responds almost sounding like he's giggling.
"Dick." Y/n mutters making sure it's not on radio while others on the pitwall looks at her in amusement.
Usually there would be a zero tolerance for such behaviour between two employees, but it's not actually effecting Max's performance and y/n isn't going to be Max's engineer beyond this weekend because GP will be back. Though everyone certain Max is going to make a request that she take on a more active role on his side of the garage.
They decide to go for a race simulation, wanting to figure out the right set up and balance. So he's fuelled up and sent out.
"You don't have to glare at me from the pit wall." Max states over the radio after he's driven out the garage.
"I don't have to, but I want to." Y/n smiles, or so he assumes, he feels like he can hear a smile in her tone. "Warm up, push lap, please."
"So polite." Max chuckles over the radio smirking to himself as he hears literally radio silence.
The rest of the warm up lap she's silent and in the hot lap, they do get back into actually working with her giving him instructions for engine mode changes, figuring out what works best for him and eventually after a few more rounds, a couple stops to try different tyres.
After the practice is over y/n heads over to the garage where Max is climbing out the car.
"That felt good."
"Well you got P1 in the session with those first hot laps." Y/n sighs then swallowing thickly as she feelings Max gently playing with a few strands of her hair. "Qualifying later. Then sprint shootout and sprint race tomorrow...do you think you'll manage to not give me a headache?"
"No."
"Right, perfect." Y/n grumbles while Max grins and manages to steal a kiss making a mechanic whistle as she tries to nudge him away, with little success. "Thank you for that."
"You can be sarcastic but I know you aren't really upset." Max smirks while she rolls her eyes at him, but her flustered body language just gives away that she's feeling nervous about it.
"Let's go. We need to go over some of the data." Y/n mutters feeling Max link his hand to her own allowing her to lead them from the garage out to the unit.
-
"Max, amazing efforts in the sprint and now in the race. You win yet again. Do you have any celebrations with a certain race engineer that we do hope to see sometimes following this?"
"There will be celebrations with the whole team." Max confirms clearly not having any intentions to directly inform the world of his relationship.
"I see. Well, I think speak for everyone when I say congratulations and a very big well done to your race engineer for helping you through her second race weekend. It does sound like her patience may have been tested but you both did amazingly."
"Thank you." Max nods still not swaying before he's allow to leave.
When he gets back to the unit y/n is talking with some other engineers who see Max and seem to clear off pretty quickly.
"I've been told we need to celebrate properly." Max states coming up behind her and holding her waist as he speaks into her ear. "We should go celebrate."
"Another demand, not a question."
"You can say no." But you won't.
She can just hear the ending of the sentence that he utters out.
"Let's go." Y/n nods almost eager for them to get out of there and have a more private celebration of such a successful weekend and possibly the continuation of quite a nice start to a relationship.
Meanwhile Max is pretty eager to make sure y/n really finishes this weekend knowing how much he wants to keep her around.
pairing : max verstappen x fem!reader warnings : smut, oral (female receiving), dry humping word count : 1k summary : while max is giving you head, his mind is clouded with one thought : will he last long enough or come untouched ? a/n : hi !! this is my first time writing in a veryyy long time, also english isn't my first langage so excuse me if you see any mistake!! but i hope you'll enjoy it !! xoxo bunny
your hands were pulling on his hair, moans and whines were the only things that could be heard in the room.
max had been between your thighs for a while now, lapping and torturing your clit, he seemed more eager than ever before, acting like a starved man.
he had you seeing stars and you could feel the usual knot forming in your stomach, a feeling that max never struggled to make you feel and he indulged himself in this. it would be a lie to say that max didn’t take pride in how good he was able to make you feel with his tongue, mouth and fingers. he knew your body like the back of his hand.
but today, you weren’t the only one feeling the heat rising in your lower body and knowing yourself coming close to a climax.
it wasn’t the first time that max felt himself getting close without being touched, but it was the first time it happened while going down on you.
his hips involuntarily bucked up, his clothed crotch brushing against the mattress and giving him the slightest of friction. of course it wasn’t enough and of course he wanted more, but his whole focus was on you, your pleasure was his priority even if it meant ignoring his own.
your moans were getting louder and louder and his cock was harder than ever in his tight pants but max was determined to make you come before anything else, even tho his mind was clouded with the want of taking off his pants. he needed to release the pressure his clothes had on him.
"oh god max i’m… oh fuck i’m close!"
your words were a melody to his ears mixed with your delicious moans and if he could he would bottle them up to listen to them on repeat. he was sure that he’d never get tired of them, he’d never get tired of you.
and it all suddenly came to him, his eyes widening at the realisation that he was way closer than he thought. he felt his cock twitching in his boxer when he decided to give up. "fuck it" he thought as he positionned himself and begin to slowly roll his hips against the mattress, finally getting the relief he needed so much.
it didn’t take long for him to reach his orgasm which made him back up from your body for a quick second, to catch his breath. he then went right back at it, his hands holding your thighs as close to his head as possible, his fingers were sure to leave marks on your skin in the morning and he loved that.
"don’t stop, i’m coming… please max"
his right hand left your thigh and quickly found your clit, his thumb started massaging the bundle of nerves, making your back arche. then you finally you came, all of the pleasure and the tension washing over your body like a wave.
your thighs were squeezing his head, something he was used to and would never complain about. he made sure his mouth left a trail of kisses along the inside of your thighs before getting up and he stood there for a few seconds, to admire your body, your -still- slightly shaking thighs, your messed up hair and your knuckles who were still white from holding and pulling so much at his hair. you were his most prized trophy, the one that he would never let go of, the one worth everything, every sacrifice.
"fuck… want me to return the favor love ?"
and that is when the man, the second time world champion suddenly felt embarrassed for the first time, in a very long time. max had managed to forget how he painted his briefs white with his cum, how minutes ago he came untouched, just driven by your pretty sounds.
"i uh.. no don’t you worry sweetheart"
you were surprised and kind of taken aback, not used to your long term boyfriend rejecting such an offer. one thing that max never said no to -usually- was head from you and you knew that he loved it. he loved seeing you on your knees in front of him, doing your very best to please him and his refusal kind of worried you.
"oh, is everything okay ?"
he knew he couldn’t hide it no more, especially not to you when you were the one that made him come undone in his tight pants. without touching him you were still the one that got him to climax and that alone showed just how much of an effect you had on him.
"i don’t really know how to say this but i.. yeah i already came"
your eyes widened and a smile formed on your face.
"don’t laugh i’m not joking y/n!"
you couldn’t help but laugh, hiding your smile with your hand. even tho he might not think about it this way, you found that incredibly flattering. making your boyfriend come without even undressing him made something inside of you switch, it gave you a full boost of confidence and you were not about to let that opportunity go.
"ooohh you poor thing, i didn’t even get to touch you yet!"
"sorry baby, i couldn’t control myself, you sounded like an angel.."
fuck, max verstappen knew his way with words. but he wasn’t the only one able to play this type of games.
"if only you knew how angelic you sound, maybe you would let me deal with you tonight.."
as you said that, you got into your knees in front of him and unzipped his pants. max didn’t move, his cock already getting harder at your sight. your eyes looked up at him before pulling his pants down. and here you saw the wet patch on his underwear and licked your lips, the thought of max coming on himself making you squeeze your thighs together.
"y/n please"
"please what?"
you were quick to answer him while slowly pulling his underwear down, finally freeing his cock from his boxer and taking ahold of it. max threw his head back and his hand went to your hair, lightly grasping it.
"please touch me"
"as you wish my love"
max knew he was in for a long night when your lips wrapped around the head of his cock, and god knows how much he was excited about it.
HEAVY use of ‘daddy’, smut 18+, vaginal sex, oral sex (both receiving) fingering, squirting, anal play, choking, spanking, masturbation, everything ok. Reader is younger than Alonso (no age specified) who is friends with her dad, and the two engage in a secret, sexual relationship. Semi-public sex ensues and Nando fucks reader up against the door that people are trying to get in. Readers a massive tease and gets a kick from getting Fernando off in public.
It started when she’d followed Fernando around the corner, fixing his tie and collar for him when he leaned in and kissed her tenderly. Fernando didn’t know what to expect, he thought he’d massively overstepped a boundary, but little did he realise that y/n was going to kiss him back with twice as much need. He’d had his eye on the young girl on the past 6 months since the 2023 GP kicked off and he worked around her dad often. She was younger than him, it wasn’t anything inappropriate, but the positions they were both in wasn’t exactly a recipe for success. Fernando didn’t care, neither did y/n. For the first time in years Fernando felt excited, passionate, horny- he hadn’t felt so strongly towards a woman in as long as he could remember. The naughty texts he’d get from her, the images, the videos, he felt like his heart, body and soul was owned by her. He was uncontrollably infatuated with y/n and the younger woman felt the same towards him. She’d sit in the chair, smiling and sighing towards him like something out of a Hollywood film. Fernando felt desired, and when he smirked towards her, she felt the exact same way back.
In one particular, very boring meeting (that she was supposed to be listening to) she placed her index finger up to her lips, grazing over the soft area delicately. As she did, she noticed Fernando with eyes already focused on her. They were locked on her and only her. The way her finger that had been inside her only hours prior grazed over her lips. Fernando would die for them to be inside his own mouth, sucking off her sweet juices. He felt his cock jump from just thinking about it.
She bit down on her finger, offering him a smile before her eyes fell to the front of the room, sucking ever so slightly on the tip of her finger. Fernando adjusted himself, attempting to glimpse to what was occurring in the meeting, but he couldn’t turn away from her for any amount of time.
His head snapped back to see her crossing her legs, squeezing them together, the bare skin being so smooth and tanned. He imagined sinking his teeth into the flesh, spanking and then kissing over her thighs, hearing her squeal in a pained pleasure. His cock jumped again, this time there was so adjusting himself to make the issue less well- prominent. He could feel the way his cock was strangled by his pants, strained and aching against the confinements of his trousers.
Y/n’s eyes fell on the area that Fernando evidently tried to cover up. Offering him a sheepish smile, her heart fluttered as she proudly sat, knowing she could make him hard over barely anything. She writhed her legs together again, positive nobody else in the room would pick up on her subtly acts. She reached out, hand wrapping around her water bottle, grazing her hand down before taking a few sips, her lips gliding over her lips afterwards, picking up any stray drops of water. Fernando’s mind went back to the image of her licking his cum clean off his spilling cock, it dripped down her lips and chin deliciously as he exploded his seed inside her mouth.
Oh no. Fernando thought, feeling an uncomfortable stickiness gather against his pubic bone. He was leaking again thinking about her. For a moment he forgot he was a grown man. Slowly, Y/n slid up from her chair, Fernando and some of the other men’s eyes fell onto her ass as she made her way out of the room quietly, smiling innocently. Fernando gulped, wondering if that was an invitation for him to follow. His head snapped back and forth from her and then back to her father who was busy holding the meeting. He’d be busy for at least another two hours, thought Fernando. Gaining the confidence, the driver kept a hand over his crotch, excusing himself quietly before hurrying down the hall, the brush of his pants against his cock making him wince. He needed to be free, and fast. He pulled out his phone desperate to hear from her, only his eyes popped out of his head seeing the video she’d sent him only a minute prior.
Fernando eyed up the empty hall, turning down his volume to a low setting before playing the video and seeing it was her, sat on a couch of a small meeting room, pants off and fingers rubbing over her clothed clit. Fernando could faintly hear her soft pants, and had to stabilise himself from fainting at the pure bliss of receiving such a video.
Y/n: hurry the door is unlocked I’m in the same one from yesterday
Fernando’s body moved faster than his legs could take him and he was overwhelmingly quick to reach the room. He had to take a breath to compose himself, entering the room with a hitched jaw seeing her sat, legs pressed together under a blanket and a shy look covering her face. Thank God it was Fernando, she thought, and not some other person who accidentally stumbled into the room.
Fernando completely forgot to the lock the door, not that that would matter straight away, but he quite literally was gobsmacked when the blanket fell and she spread her legs, pushing her hand down over the lace of her pants, sighing as she rubbed over her aching pussy.
How Fernando didn’t cum there and then in his pants he’d never know. He looked so good, she thought, her head tilting back and to the side with a soft sigh of his name. His black polo tucked into his black pants, arms bulging out at the bicep, similar to how his cock pressed at the seams of his pants.
With the moan of his name, Fernando fell to his knees, a gentle smile tugging on his lips as he reached out, taking a hold of either outside of her legs, rubbing down the soft skin. “La mejor sorpresa.” (The best surprise) he hushed, pressing a longing yet tender kiss to the sensitive of her flesh. Y/n exhaled gently, continuing to rub gently, hips gyrating up and down ever so slightly. She was captivated with his Spanish words, the glisten in his hazel eyes. Her movements were relaxed with a second kiss to her inner thigh.
“My love.” He hushed in his husky voice, resting his cheek and temple to her legs as he gazed up to her. The moment was gentle, yet overwhelmingly sensual. His eyes trailed down to where she pleasured herself and he unconsciously pressed his crotch harder against the edge of the couch.
Y/n let out a soft hum, a slight plea for him to touch her. He slid his hands forwards, taking her underwear by the waistband and slowly pulling them off, tossing them to one side. “Necesito este coño.” (I need this pussy) he hushed, kissing her pussy lips gently. “Te necesito.” (I need you) Fernando whispered again, spreading her lips a little further and licking a stripe up between her folds. His tongue was hot and wet, flicking over her clit which sent a sigh of relief to leave her lips.
“What’re you saying, Nando?” Her voice broke on an inhale when he wrapped his lips around her pussy, sucking gently, her hips lolling forwards. “How much I need you and this pussy.” The Spaniard rasped against her, lips moving against her skin as she spoke. She was sticky from wetness, Fernando wanted to lick it clean. He imagined how badly she was squirming in her underwear at the meeting, her thongs dripping with her juices.
“Mh, you’re all I can think about.” She airily spoke. In response, Fernando ate her out, gently, but steadily. Her hand came up, swiping her hair out of her face like she was in a movie, Fernand’s eyes glued to her. “Fuck… yes.” She exhaled out in response, fingers stroking through his dark strands of hair. Fernando wanted to feel the tug of her fingers against his scalp, the scratch of his nails down the tattoo on his back.
Fernando flattened his tongue, swiping all over her pussy, letting out a grunt in appreciation as he hooked her thigh over his shoulders, delving deeper. The sound of her moan cracking had him going crazy, he slurped and sighed against her drenched core, spitting and adding a finger to the mix. Her sounds were pure bliss, she gasped and begged for more, fingering at his hair, his shirt which had pulled loose from his pants.
“Fernando… fuck, Nando, Nando, Nando.” She wept out his name like a mantra, still remaining relatively quiet. Fernando didn’t want quiet, he knew this area of the hotel would remain virtually empty, he wanted her screaming, cock hungry for more of him. After one particular sharp pull on his hair, Fernando let out a moan, eyes rolling back and voice vibrating against her aching pussy, he pulled back and bit firmly into the flesh of her thigh.
“Please.” Her hips bucked, and she yanked him by the hair back into her vagina. Fernando felt the ache of his cock now, painful in his pants, he thrusted slightly against the couch, rubbing the his cock up and down against the plush material.
Fernando brought his fingers up, pushing one into her hole with no warning. “Fuck!” She squealed, hand snatching the couch, nails digging into the material as he pushed the digit in and out of her. “Oh my god!” She moaned in a pornographic manner. Fernando smirked, this is exactly what he wanted from the younger woman.
Her hips were jumping so Nando pushed a hand against her hip bone, pinning her into the couch whilst finger fucking her with his other hand. Y/n felt the sensitive fuck of his digits against her g-spot and knew she wouldn’t last long. He sucked and licked like a desperate man against her pussy, hand moving up to pin at her throat as her moans became distorted through the lack of air.
The familiar tightness built and the squelch of her wet pussy was soon replaced with a gushing as she came undone, both with her orgasm and squirting all over Fernando’s hand. He growled, continuing to finger her over the edge as she screamed out, unable to take anymore. Anybody listening in would think there was an exorcism taking place. “Fernando, please!” She begged as he removed his finger, lapping up her spilt juices, hands moving down to unbuckle his belt desperately. “Oh fuck, fuck, fuck!” She choked out, tormented by the over simulation. Fernando quickly freed his cock, wiping the back of his arm against his chin and mouth before moving down to kiss her with an undeniable want. “Let me fuck you.” He grunted, jerking his hand back and fourth over his cock that had been deprived for so long.
“You don’t want to fuck my mouth first?” She giggled, Fernando paused, panting harshly before kissing her firmly again. “Please, please, I want your cock in my mouth.”
“You want that?” Fernando grabbed her hair, forcing her to look up at him. Y/n grinned through her excitement, the pain of his fistful around her hair making her pussy throb all over again.
“I want it so bad, Fernando.” He kissed her once, twice again, before pushing her down to her knees where she gagged herself on his erection, stuffing her mouth as full as she could have his large cock. Fernando immediately let out an animalistic groan at her hot mouth around his aching member. Her mouth felt so good, too good, almost as good as her tight little pussy.
She moaned around his length, gazing up through those pretty eyelashes as Fernando stared at the youthful woman. From this angle he could see to her breasts down her top, the swell of them in her bra, pushed together, he wanted to spill his seed all over them. Fernando’s mouth was open, face was red and he began sweating with eyebrows knitted together as Y/n watched him, sucking up and down on him.
Her cheeks hollowed out, she drooled down his cock, taking a handful of his balls, delighted to hear the many moans, pants and grunts that Fernando unleashed. She teased, running her wet tongue all down the base of his cock and over his head, over his balls, going excruciatingly slow, “why don’t you take charge, you know I like it when you are.” She giggled, sucking his tip lightly. Fernando’s voice cracked as his head fell back in pure bliss.
“Are you sure?”
“Please… please daddy.” She hushed out the next words and Fernando felt so filthy- in the best way. “Say it again.” He snatched at her jaw, “daddy.” The pet name caused him to pop a gentle smack over her cheek, one that made her grin before he yanked her chin open and began thrusting into her mouth. “Ah- shit- ah mierda!” He cursed in both English and his native tongue, hips jittering when he felt her take him all the way down her throat. Y/n’s nose was pressed to Alonso’s freshly trimmed pubic bone, she gagged slightly and Fernando pulled off with another loud groan.
“Are you ok?” He held her face, seeing the tears formed in her eyes from choking on his cock. “So good.” She confirmed as he smiled, lifting her up to her wobbly feet.
“You know you are good at that.” The man flirted, beginning to unbutton at her blouse, ripping it off before moving to her bra. “I know.” She teased with a giggle, the two of them sharing another kiss. “Where do you want me? Bent over?” She moved up and around to his ear, standing on her toes to kiss at his neck, jaw and earlobe.
“Yes.” Fernando breathed, tossing her bra to one side before taking a handful of the swell of her perfect breasts. “You can have me however you want.” She whispered, sending shudders down his back, the two of them sharing another heated, open mouthed kiss before she pulled at his shirt, freeing him and exposing his bare, toned abdomen.
Fernando twisted her by the hips, her body completely nude for him as he planted a spank to her ass- not too hard, he didn’t want to hurt her. “Harder.” She moaned in response when his palm caught her ass a little harder. Alonso moved down, licking a swipe all the way from her pussy to her asshole, delving in the area once again. It was irresistible, she was irresistible, and when his cock squelched inside the wetness of her tight little hole, Fernando thought he’d faint.
“Oh, Fernando!” She whined, petite frame pushed over the back of the couch as she arched her back, he continued fucking into her, sending a few slaps over her ass and thighs in the process. “Daddy, please.” She begged, reaching back. Fernando grunted, snatching her hair and pulling her back as he leaned forwards, catching a kiss to her forehead as she panted, breathless from the sex.
Fernando’s hand palmed at the flesh he’d slapped, smoothing the area and relaxing his hold in her head to hold under her chin, his lips pressed to the top of her head tilted back.
“Eres mi buena chica, ¿no? Qué buena chica sucia, rebotando así en mi polla.” (You’re my good girl, aren’t you? Such a good, dirty girl bouncing on my cock like that).That’s when the Spanish dirty talk happened and Y/n thought she’d pass out from pure ecstasy. “Yes, yes, yes.” She let out a low whine as Fernando knelt on the couch, resting his arms on the back, besides her body. His face was close to hers now as he bucked into her slowly.
“Yes?” He laughed. “You know what I’m saying?” Fernando grinned, kissing her cheek and pressing a second kiss to her lips as she giggled breathlessly.
“No, but I can guess.” She hummed. “I bet you can.” He panted in response, pulling her up my both her arms and continuing the same brutal pace as earlier. Her cries and whines continued as Nando breathed heavily, grunting through the building pleasure he felt. Her pussy was the tightest he’d felt, so warm and wet, he fit inside perfectly. He was meant for her.
As the two were evidently occupied, they didn’t hear the footsteps gaining towards the door- and no it wasn’t Y/n’s father- thank god. But instead, the handle jiggled, a businessman from the meeting looking for the bathroom. Fernando reacted quick, slamming his hand against the door and locking it. Y/n laughed, turning over her shoulder in surprise. Fernando let out a breath of relief before smiling towards her and gesturing her over. “Fuck, Nando, did you not lock the door?” She brushed her hair out of her face. The man simply shrugged with a sheepish smile and she playfully nudged him.
He reached down, grabbing her thighs and wrapping them around his waist, pressing her back to the cold door in which people were trying to get into. “Fernando! It’s cold!” “Shhh.” He teased, slipping easily back inside her dripping pussy. Her mouth opened and eyes glazed over again, this time, Fernando couldn’t stop staring at her beauty. His lips made his way to hers and their sounds were muffled by the kisses and the hitting of her back against the door. “Fuck!” As their love making continued they became careless, loud again, the door was rattling and Fernando began drilling into the girl who clutched at his shoulders, nails digging into her back.
“Nando!” She wept, her body tensing, coil tightening in her abdomen. “Not my name.” The sweating man grunted as she moaned out again. “Daddy.” She cried out instead which only spurred him further. One arm wrapped around her lower hips, whilst the other pulled down on her shoulder, stuffing his cock as deep inside of her pussy as possible.
“Gonna cum- fuck! I want you to come too.” She gasped, leaving a particularly harsh scratch in his back. Nando growled before pulling her hair to one side, his fist shaking as he chased his orgasm.
“Please, please, please!” She pleaded, fingers rubbing against her clit as she bounced aimlessly with every thrust. “Yes.” Fernando choked out. “Yes, yes, cum for me- I’m gonna- Mierda- I’m cumming.” His jaw tensed as he let out an animalistic groan of pure bliss through his teeth before he was thrown over the edge, her orgasm approaching soon after.
Their sighs of relief mixed with yells and groans of pleasure settled down, and feeling the drip of his cum from her pussy, Fernando let out a small sound, moving her gently and laying her down on the couch. “Mh-” before he could move she held onto his arm, the man chose to settle down besides her, kissing her tenderly and plugging a finger inside the hole he’d just filled with his cum.
“You did good.” He whispered, leaving a longing kiss to her temple, and another on her lips. “Nando.” She innocently whispered, fingers trailing through his hair. He glanced down, inspecting her leaking pussy as he pushed his finger in gently. Y/n whined slightly but Nando soothed her with gentle shushes.
“I bet your dad doesn’t know what kind of a bad girl you are.” He muttered as she giggled, swatting his arm slightly. Fernando rested on his side, admiring her beauty with a hand under his head, elbow prompted onto the couch. He felt bad for whoever had to sit here after.
“My good girl.” He then smiled as they shared another kiss. He brought his finger up, to her lips and she stuck her tongue out, sucking him clean. Fernando could have sworn he was ready for round two immediately, entranced by how sensual and purely beautiful Y/n was.
Art Donaldson x reader (x Patrick Zweig)
summary: Art loves when you kiss him while wearing lip gloss and it gets all over his own lips. What he loves even more is when you get on your knees for him and he ends up with lip gloss stains all over another certain body part of his.
warnings: smut 18+ (oral m receiving, fingering f receiving, handjob, reader and Art have sex next to Patrick who is asleep but they have permission, submissive-ish!Art, a bit of voyeurism from Patrick – he doesn’t ask but for the sake of this fic we’re assuming consent bc it’s fictional, m masturbation, spitting, cum eating, pet names: good boy, baby, reader says Art is ‘wet like a girl’), feminine Art (so dare I say canon Art🙂↕️) or at least he likes lip gloss lol, Art and Patrick are college roommates – attraction heavily implied between all three of them but only Art and reader are in a relationship, this was supposed to just be a drabble lol there’s no plot just porn, also i’m kinda intimidated by the challengers fandom lol idk but anyway here's my first challengers fic sddslkh <3
word count: 3.4k | gorgeous divider by @dollywons
When you first start dating Art, you always apologise for wearing lipgloss when you’re kissing him. You always wipe it off his lips after a kiss, pulling your sleeves over your hands to get it off his mouth. You’ve heard that guys don’t like it, but you like wearing lipgloss and Art has never complained.
When you get more comfortable around him, you don’t always wipe the gloss off his lips, letting him do it himself. But he only does it because he feels like it’s what he’s supposed to do. Guys aren’t supposed to like the feeling of lip gloss. He’s probably supposed to tell you it’s annoying and ask you to stop wearing lip gloss, at least when you’re with him.
But he doesn’t want to control you, and he doesn’t want you to stop wearing lip gloss. He just wants you to stop apologising for it.
“You don’t have to say sorry,” he tells you every time with a smile, but you still do it.
“I know it’s sticky. I won’t put any more on tonight, don’t worry.” Art stops himself from pouting at your words.
And yes, Art once applied the lip gloss that you left on his nightstand. He was missing you and the lip gloss was the closest thing to you that he had. He ran into the bathroom when Patrick came home, wiping it off furiously before his best friend could see.
He likes keeping a shirt of yours at his place so that he can smell you even when you’re not there, but what he likes even more is to apply your lip gloss. It’s just a thin layer, but it makes him feel like he’s been freshly kissed by you. There’s nothing wrong with that, and there’s definitely no reason he does it other than to feel closer to you.
-
You’re getting ready for the birthday of a friend one night. You’ll be going to a bar for a bit, nothing big. But you’re doing your make-up on Art’s bed with him sitting behind you, hands on your hips.
“You look so pretty.”
He says those words for every step of your routine. He wants you to know how beautiful you are no matter how much or how little make-up you’re wearing, even if it’s cheesy. Art grins when you show him the finished look, and his eyes stay stuck on your glossy lips, tinted a dark pink, almost red colour.
He knows you can’t resist it when he looks at you like that, he never can when it’s the other way around either, so you press a kiss to his lips. Art knows that you’ll be wiping the sticky gloss off as soon as the kiss is over, so he deepens it to keep the feeling of lip gloss on him, even though Patrick is sitting in the bed right next to you.
Knowing him, he’s probably staring and enjoying it; Art wouldn’t be surprised if he heard the sound of Patrick’s phone camera going off.
You smile against Art as you part your lips for him, trying but not quite managing to bring yourself to stop kissing him yet. You have to physically take Art’s chin between your fingers and push his face away from you to stop. And yet, you give in again immediately, peppering his face in kisses before you pull away for good.
You give Patrick an apologetic smile, even though you both know he doesn’t mind you and Art making out next to him. By the time you look back at Art, he’s already wiping at the lip gloss stains all over his face. Your cheeks heat up when you realise how many marks you’ve made on him. You forgot you put on a darker and more pigmented lip gloss than normal.
“Wait,” you giggle, pulling away Art’s hand that’s already trying to wipe the sticky gloss away, “I’ll bring you a wipe.”
“Doesn’t he look pretty like that?” Patrick comments before you have a chance to get up. Art throws a pillow at him.
You look between them, at Art’s face littered with shiny, sticky stains. His lips are especially dark and shiny, as if you just put some lip gloss right on there, albeit a bit messily.
“Of course he’s pretty like this,” you say, not looking away from Art.
“Then just leave him like that, he likes it.”
“I don’t,” Art defends much too fast, and Patrick laughs. Art reaches for his pillow to throw at Patrick but remembers he already did. He’s about to stand up to go to the bathroom and get a stupid wipe himself, but you grip his t-shirt and he sits back down.
“It’s okay if you like it, baby. It’s hot that you do,” you try to whisper the last part, and pull him in by his t-shirt to kiss him again, “Let me clean you up, and I’ll put some lip gloss on you properly.”
“Only cause you think it’s hot,” Art calls after you weakly.
Patrick laughs again.
“Shut up.”
Art shyly tries to catch a glimpse of his face in the mirror.
You sit back down in front of him, gently cleaning his face. You hold out the lip gloss afterwards, placing a hand on his face to apply it, the wet pop sounding when you undo the lid.
“Wait,” Art leans back abruptly, as if you’re about to hurt him, “I want it from your lips.”
You huff, smiling at him. You apply some more lipgloss to your own lips, taking your boyfriend’s face to give him a kiss to his pursed lips. You apply more and kiss him again. You both smile at the oddly innocent kiss – pursed lips against pursed lips.
You wipe away the excess over Art’s cupid’s bow, grinning at his shiny, sticky lips.
“You look so pretty, baby,” you tell your boyfriend, and he blushes.
“Show me,” Patrick says, leaning forward to see Art from the front. Art turns his head away from his best friend, red up to the tips of his ears now.
“Show him, baby,” you coax, reaching out for his chin to turn his head. You know Patrick likes to make jokes, but not when his best friend is like this – eyes like those of a puppy, genuinely embarrassed.
It doesn’t have to mean anything, but Art has made it such a big deal in his head that he can’t like having your lipgloss on his lips that Patrick knows he needs encouragement right now. Patrick moves to sit at the edge of the bed to look at Art better. “Look at you, Artie, all pretty. Looks almost as good as on your girlfriend.”
You roll your eyes – you should’ve known he can’t be fully serious.
“You have to leave now, you’re already late,” Art reminds you, and you let him press another kiss to your lips. You’ll have to clean up the mess he’s made on your mouth on the way, but you don’t mind. You watch him enjoy the feeling of the sticky gloss on his lips a few more seconds before he wipes his mouth with the back of his hand.
You and Patrick share a look, rolling your eyes, and you blow a kiss to Art before you close the door.
-
You come back home early, before midnight. The birthday girl left to go see her boyfriend halfway through her own birthday party, so you’re back at Art and Patrick’s dorm. You’d be annoyed at your friend if you didn’t have your own boyfriend to go visit.
Patrick is already lightly snoring when Art opens the door for you – he’s in nothing but boxers – and you know what that means.
Patrick has given you two permission to do whatever you want while he’s asleep, as long as you’re quiet. You’ve always wondered if it’s a tactic to secretly listen in on you and Art having sex, knowing that you would’ve otherwise never done it with him in the room.
Art has a small light on next to his bed, and you join him on his mattress. A few leftover glitter particles sparkle on his lips, and you pull his face closer to yours.
“Suits you so well, Artie. So pretty.” You swipe your finger over his bottom lip. He kisses it, stopping himself from smiling. He’s already looking at your lips, and you mentally pat yourself on the back for remembering to reapply your gloss just before you got here.
You kiss him then, and Art licks into your mouth as if he’s been starved and waiting to eat you up since you left. You adjust your position to sit on top of him, and your knee grazes his lap. He’s already fully hard.
“Sorry.. couldn’ help myself. Pat fell asleep and I couldn’t stop thinking about you.”
“It’s okay, baby,” you grin, holding his jaw, “You want me to make it better? Want me to go down on you?”
Art nods distractedly, mumbling out, “please, baby. Need you”. Your thumb brushes the gloss on his lip, and Art opens his mouth. You pull your hand away before he can wrap his lips around your thumb, and you kiss him as a whine escapes his mouth, muffling his voice.
You press your lips against his until they’re coated in your shiny gloss, and then you slide a finger into his mouth. He sucks on it – pink, sparkly lips around your finger.
“You look so pretty. Should wear my lipgloss more often,” you tell him, and he turns his head away in fake-annoyance, your finger slipping out. You feel his hard cock against your leg again as he moves, and you pull at his chin to open his mouth.
Art moans as you messily push three of your fingers into his mouth to get them wet against his tongue. You pull them out and slide them down into the waistband of his boxers, and down the length of his cock.
You put your hand over his mouth before he has a chance to moan, and you nod towards Patrick. He’s asleep, his back to you, but it’s not going to take long for Art to wake him if he keeps being this loud.
You get up, and Art pulls his legs to the side of the bed as you sit down between them. He’s straining against his boxers, a tall tent pulling the fabric taut. You release Art’s cock, and it slaps against his abs. He’s glistening down his length from where you spread his spit on him, a small puddle of precum already at the tip.
You giggle quietly, “So wet, baby. You’re wet like a girl.”
“Shut up,” he whispers back weakly, biting his lip to stop a smile from spreading over his face.
You kiss the wet tip, licking the precum, and begin to leave lip gloss stains all down his length.
“Feels so good, baby. You’re so good at this,” Art says not nearly quietly enough.
“Shh, baby. Don’t wanna wake Patrick up.”
Your boyfriend nods, but you don’t think he’s listening.
You take his dick into your mouth properly now, wet heat enveloping him as you take him deeper, and you look up to see how he bites his lip and lets nothing but a breath slip past his lips as he watches you.
“Good boy,” you whisper to him. He intertwines his fingers with yours by the side of his hip, and you look up to smile at him. You ignore how, when you look past Art for a split second, you can see Patrick clearly jerking his cock under the blanket, the movement of his arm making it obvious.
You shake your head slightly, resisting the urge to roll your eyes at Art’s best friend, and you take your boyfriend deeper down your throat as your spit drips to his balls. Art looks down at you with such restraint on his face, it almost looks like he’s about to cry.
He manages not to make a sound when you suck his dick more eagerly, your lip gloss smeared over his cock as you jerk off what you can’t take past your lips. The only sound in the room is the wetness of your mouth and your spit around your boyfriend’s cock.
Art lets out a shaky breath as his abs contract, his hand squeezing yours, and you softly nod up at him, taking his cock as deep as you can. He whimpers pathetically when he spills his load down your throat, and you swallow it all as he keeps cumming and cumming in your mouth.
When you pull away, out of breath and with your lips wet, you take in the picture you created. Art’s cock is full of your lip gloss, his face shiny with a thin layer of sweat, his cheeks as red as the gloss you left on his lips earlier. You’re about to stand up and get a wipe to clean Art up, but he pulls his boxers back on.
He likes the glossy stains on his cock even more than the ones you leave on his lips.
He pulls you up on the bed, lying you on your back. “Please can I go down on you?” he whispers, mouthing at your neck and down your chest, pulling your top down as much as the tight fabric allows, whining when he doesn’t get all the way down to your nipples.
As much as you want Art to eat your pussy, you won’t let him. He always gets messy and loud, moaning almost uncontrollably as he makes out with your wet pussy, and there is no way Patrick could pretend to sleep through that.
If you thought Art was going to cry earlier from how good he felt, he reaches a new level of teariness now when you tell him no, eyes almost glassy.
“Tomorrow, okay? You can still use your fingers now.” Art looks at least somewhat assuaged at your offer, and lies down on his side next to you, unknowingly shielding you from Patrick. You don’t know if he came along with Art, or if he’s still jerking off, and that makes it even more exciting.
You know Art would never cheat on you, but if you gave him permission to, and if he admitted his attraction, you’re sure he’d jump at the first opportunity to invite Patrick into bed with you two. You know Patrick feels the same. You like the thought of him listening in, making himself cum to the sound of his best friend and his girlfriend having sex.
“Here,” Art urges, holding a hand to your mouth, even though he knows you’ll be more than wet enough from giving him head. You spit into his open palm, and Art spits in too, the way he always does, liking the feeling of your combined warm wetness against his skin.
Art reaches down your body and into your underwear, adding to the wetness. He rubs your clit in messy circles, kissing you even messier. You spread your legs for him more, but Art lets out a frustrated huff.
“Can I… want you naked,” he mumbles against your skin. Art watches with puppy eyes as you get up, taking off your tight top and grabbing your favourite oversized shirt of his instead, sliding off your trousers and panties only once you’ve put the shirt on.
“This is all you get.”
Art looks happy enough as you get back into bed with him, sliding a hand up your shirt now that he can comfortably get under the hem, and cups one of your tits.
“Can’t believe you’re mine,” Art says against your lips, hand moving back between your legs to play with your pussy, “So pretty.”
He circles your clit for a few moments before he pushes a finger inside while making out with you, remnants of his own cum still in your mouth, spit and gloss between you two as he continues to rub your clit.
“You’re the prettiest woman in the world,” he says, voice almost strained, and you realise he’s hard again, humping the mattress as well as he can while lying on his side, “Wish I was inside your pussy right now.”
You have to resist giving in to him – he’ll be insatiable the rest of the night if you let him fuck you even just for a few seconds – but you reach down to pull his cock free from his boxers, wrapping your hand around him.
“Can you focus if I’m doing this?” you ask pointedly, and Art nods eagerly.
“I’ll be good, I’ll be a good boy. I’ll make you cum,” he promises, slurring his words as your thumb swipes over the tip. But he’s not lying, he’s still fucking your pussy with his fingers. You’ve trained him well, so he knows what to do.
You can’t deny that you’re both getting loud now, if it’s not the moans you don’t quite manage to swallow down, then it’s the sound of your wet pussy and your slicked hand around Art’s cock.
You cum almost at the same time, Art rubbing your clit at just the right, albeit messy, intensity, and your thighs squeeze around his forearm when the orgasm flows through you, your own hand not stopping around Art’s cock. He’s breathing hard, reaching for the tissues on his headboard, but the tissue box topples over and falls against his shoulder and to the floor as he tries and fails to rip out a tissue.
“Here, I got you, baby,” you angle his cock to his abs, so that he won’t be spilling all over his own sheets, and you only have to jerk Art’s dick for a few more seconds before he’s shooting ropes of cum over his own skin. His abs glisten as his breath stutters, and he has to wrap his hand around yours to stop when he gets too sensitive.
“I love you so much,” Art huffs with a smile, and you kiss him briefly.
“I love you too.” You gather his cum off his abs, wiping it over your palm and holding it over his mouth. It drips and falls between Art’s parted lips. Art hums when you slip your fingers into his mouth, and he sucks the last drops of his load off them.
“Such a good boy,” you rub your thumb over his cheek, gazing at him in awe.
“I love you so much,” he tells you again, a soft smile on his face.
When you’re done and you look over, Patrick is back to quietly snoring, a freshly crumpled tissue by the side of his bed. You kiss Art before you can begin to smirk, and you briefly consider telling him. You decide it’s a conversation for another day. Art would definitely get hard again if he knew that Patrick was jerking off to you two doing it, and he’s already squeezed out two orgasms just now. You don’t need him that overstimulated tonight.
You remove your makeup and get one of the fresh pairs of panties Art bought for you to keep at his place. You walk back into the bedroom and find Art on his back, smiling at you all fucked out.
You lie down with him, letting him cup one of your tits for comfort so that he can sleep better. You kiss his cheek and see that his lips are still shiny with glittery gloss. You decide not to offer to clean him up, now that you know he likes it like that.
P.S. Thank you for reading <3 Reblog and comment for Art to come and kiss the gloss off your lips 🤭
Summary: Everyone likes a trip down memory lane, right?
Word Count: 1.4K
Warnings: improper use of champagne, graphic sex details
Authors Notes: I’m back loves. Toto is a bit new for me, but I did my absolute best. I’d call this a drabble or perhaps a blurb. It’s mostly just an excuse to get my hands dirty. Enjoy it, fiends. The rest of my work can be found here.
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DadBstf!seb just teaching you how to fuck after your dad asked him to stay at the house with you whilst he’s away
this fucks. so much. you get it. you get me.
Just as you arrived home for summer break, your parents were leaving for the 25th wedding anniversary trip. Although you were 20 and had stayed home alone a million times over, your parents, well your dad, still didn't trust you to stay at home alone.
As an extra precaution, he asked his best friend, Sebastian, to stay with you for the few days they'd be gone.
You and Sebastian always co-existed, you got along just fine and there was no bad blood but it's not like you spent a lot of time having conversations with him. Truthfully, for most of your life, Sebastian popped in for a weekend here and there or your parents took a trip to see him race. Even when you did watch the races, he wasn't really there - he was mostly focussed on his race.
But now it was just the two of you, in the house for the next six days.
Sebastian have left earlier that day, knocking on your door and telling you that he's got some errands to run and he would be back later that afternoon. You shouted okay and rolled over and went back to sleep.
It was nearly 6, when you heard the front door unlocked. Sebastian coming in with a few bags before returning to the living room to check on you.
“What’re you watching?” He asked, walking around to sit next to you on the couch. “Oh uh, fifty shades.” You shrugged, “they finally put the second part on and I fell asleep in the theatre when we went to go see it.”
“Are you old enough to be watching this?” Seb looked over at you, deadpan but you laughed. “Very funny,” you reached for the remote, “I can change it, we can watch something else.”
“No no,” Seb shook his head, settling in on the couch. “Don’t change it on account of me, watch your movie.”
The two of you sit in silence for a bit, focussed on the movie, playing on screen. And, of course, as expected, a sex scene on. You hear Sebastian snicker and you look over at him, confused.
“What?” You asked, “you’re not that childish, are you?” You joked and he shook his head.
“It looks so.. forced. I know it’s not real but they didn’t even try to make it seem real.”
“I wouldn’t know the difference,” you shrugged, turning your attention back to the scene. Sebastian was curious, everyone knew that but they also knew curiosity was what killed the cat.
He shifts to face you, “what does that mean?”
“I had sex once at this party but I was drunk and from what I can remember, it wasn’t that great.”
“Well that’s no good,” he says and you shrug once again, “that’s life.”
“It doesn’t have to be that way.” He looks at you and you look back to him, brows furrowed. “What does that mean?”
Sebastian scoots a little closer. “I can show you.. if you’d like.”
“We shouldn't,” you turn to face him.
He shrugs, “what’s the harm?” He pulls your leg and now you're face to face with him. “You need a real man to show you how to fuck.” His hand comes up to rest on your cheek and you find yourself leaning into him. You close the gap, kissing the man.
It was heavy, heated. His hands on your body, pulling you over and onto him. You were perched on his lap, Seb’s hands on your ass when he kisses you.
Not a word is spoken between the two of you, what little clothes you had on was gathered in a pile on the floor when he rolls you two over again. You were flat on your back, Seb settled between your legs.
“Are we-” you cut him off with a kiss. “Please,” your hand rested on his jaw, “Seb please.”
He nods, there wasn't much else to say. Not that anything makes sense at the moment, it was all physical. His hand slips between the two of you, his fingers rubbing slow circles on your clit. Your hips lift, wanting more from him.
Seb’s hand wandered a little lower, a finger pushed in slowly. He can feel how wet you are, wrapped around his finger and he smiles.
“All of this for me?” He asks, cocky as ever.
“God, just fuck me.” You mumble, not wanting to wait. You waited long enough.
Seb nods, barely pushing into you. Your hands grip on his biceps, his lips finding yours when he pushes in all the way, muffling the moans that left your lips.
He pulls one of your legs up to hitch on his hip. “Fuck,” you breath, his thrusts faster and harder. How you wished you could scream his name right now. Seb’s hand drops between the two of you, rubbing your clit; matching the pace of his hips.
Your head falls back into the pillows when he hits the spot he was looking for. His fingers that were previous on your clit now shoved into your mouth to muffle the sounds tumbling from your lips.
Seb leans down, his lips next to your ear; “you know those boys couldn't satisfy you the way I do.”