Max Definitely Also Has A Mix Of A Praise And Degrading Kink. Like He'll Be In The Floor In Front Of

mark webber masterlist

all blurbs are listed from oldest to newest - oldest being on the top and newest on the bottom. // it’ll be updated as I post!

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KSNFIDHE YES!!

ANOTHER BEING THAT WRITES FOR TOTO!!

lowkey I'm so horny for him tho. he's such a dilf and he knows it!

lowkey i want him to just pick me up and bounce me on his cock like sjdkfbdi 🤤🤤🥵🥵

and him pulling my hair to suck on my neck like asdfghjkl

and what makes it better is that I'm so smol compared to him! I go up to his shoulder! (also could reader be wearing pants or shorts? I'm just a simple tomboy who doesn't like skirts and dresses also if ur cool with it short hair would be preferable but it's alright if u don't)

sorry this had been sitting in my inbox for soooo long babe but literally, he's a dilf <3333 // hopefully this is okay! 

You were surprising your husband, his home race was this weekend and tensions are on a high. He didn’t know you were coming down but you had set everything up with his assistant, making sure he didn’t find out. 

She left a key for you with the hotel lobby so you could go up and put your stuff away, shower and get ready before coming to the track. Now you were walking through the hallways until you found his office.

Toto Wolff - Team Principal - the silver sign on the door reads. You knock on the door and wait for him to answer before stepping in. 

He doesn't look up until he hears the door shut, he can’t help the smile on his face when he sees who it is. “Darling, what are you doing here?” His arms open for you as you walk over and sit yourself on his lap. 

“It's your home race, of course I’m gonna be here.” You smile as you sit down, kissing him. 

“Good, I missed you.” 

“You saw me yesterday morning.” 

“I know, that's too long.” He mumbles, his lips on your neck and he pushes you hair away from your neck. “You look pretty,” he smiles, lifting you off his lap onto his desk, your feet resting between his legs. 

You wore a pair of black shorts and one of his button ups you found in the wardrobe in the hotel. 

“Thank you, we match.” You smile and he nods. “But I think yours would look better on the floor,” he hums, fingers already working on unbuttoning the shirt you had on. 

“Stop it,” you giggled, “anyone could walk in.” 

“Honey please, no one is going to walk in.” He kisses you, leaving the shirt unbuttoned before he tugs your shorts off, leaving you in your panties. 

Toto pulls you back onto his lap, working on moving his own pants down so you can ride him. Once he gets them down enough, he pulls you to line yourself up with him, letting you sink down onto him. 

“Fuck,” you breathe, your head dropped to his shoulder. 

His hand resting on your lower back as you slowly bounce on his lap. His hands find your hips, moving you to his own pace, a lot faster than you were moving but you could take it. 

“Taking it like a good girl,” he whispers in your ear, moving your hair behind your shoulder to kiss your neck. 

“Hm, like that.” You mumbles, biting down on his shoulder just a little. “Yeah?” He quips, pulling you down a little rougher, “like that?” 

“Yeah,” you breathe, nodding. Your hand meets his face, kissing him roughly. 

i can't get no satisfaction // mick schumacher

summary: camping out in the library after hours, and too stressed to retain information, the student librarian has an idea about how take all of that stress away. and it doesn’t involve reference books.

pairing: college librarian!mick x student reader

warnings: sex in a library, semi-public sex, this is so fucking filthy, mick is a sweetheart but he has a dirty fucking mouth. mentions of masturbation and sex toys. why does this man bring out the feral in me? the terms ‘librarian’ and ‘sir’ used in a sexual context (but in a playful way…for the most part)

authors note: now tell me why I can add a song here but tumblr won’t let me add ‘shallow’ as a song link to my angsty top gun fic and I had to publish it without?

there was a reason she always picked that table. a reason she’d started coming to the library in tight tops and cutoff shorts.

it gave her the prime viewing across the old library, beyond the green tiffany lamps, at the perfectly coiffed head of of blonde hair that rested behind the check in desk.

mick fucking schumacher. he was the reason most girls came to the library, if she was to be honest.

however, there was no time for that today, astronomy textbooks strewn across her table as she poured over star charts. she didn’t realize how late it had gotten, her test review notes only half filled out and an exam creeping up on her.

her ballpoint pen trailed across the computer paper as she recorded the names of the main theories behind how the moon formed, mumbling to herself in an attempt to remember the facts better. she had one Bluetooth earbud in, playing jazz music softly to prevent her mind from wandering.

it was all hands on deck if she wanted a chance in hell of passing her elective course.

two hands clapped down on her shoulders. she started, yelping as her pen trailed a thick black line across her page before clattering to the floor. heart racing, she yanked her headphone out, head whirling to see who had interrupted her.

“oh my goodness, I’m so sorry.”

mick. he stood behind her, clad in tight black slacks and and untucked dress shirt, the top few buttons undone and the sleeves rolled up to just before his elbows.

and, oh god, were her nipples perking up underneath her halter top?

“no, no, I should have paid more attention.” her voice was shaking, cracking slightly. “did you need something?”

“we closed like, fifteen minutes ago.” mick said sheepishly, scratching the back of his neck. “I didn’t want to disturb you, but I’m not getting paid overtime and I kind of wanted to go home.”

she sighed, massaging her forehead wrinkles with her fingertips. “yeah, okay. sorry, I didn’t realize how late it was getting.”

her stomach sank to the floor. she felt guilty for keeping him, and a sense of crushing dread when she realized how little information she really retained.

and under the student librarians gaze, his stunning ocean eyes boring holes into her skull?

she’d be damned to admit it out loud, but she felt horny as hell. she was so stressed with exams, and so wired from trying to study that masturbation was the only way she could get herself to go to sleep: tire out the body, and the mind will follow.

but her fingers didn’t cut it any more, nor did the tiny vibrator her roommate made her buy on a whiteclaw-fuelled trip to the local spencer’s.

“okay, just give me a second and I can help you put all of these away. I feel bad for keeping you now.”

mick helped her gather her things and tidy the table, offering her a metal shelving cart to load full of all the textbooks she didn’t need. they moved in an awkward silence as the blond reshelved the books and she pushed the cart.

“so, astronomy?” mick clicked his tongue, shelving a book on star charts.

“yeah, it’s a shitty fucking elective, that’s what it is. it’s causing me more stress than my actual subject major.” she snorted, sliding a few other books into the shelf. “I’m pre-law, but I’m not even sure if law school is what I want any more. right now, I just want to shut down, if I’m being honest.”

she stepped back from the shelf, moving to go around the cart when mick spoke up.

“so is that why you barely looked in my direction today?”

she stopped cold, her foot thudding against the side of the heavy metal cart. she bit back a curse, stumbling as mick caught her, pressing her body up against the shelving cart.

“I know you have a crush on me. I think it’s cute. you’re cute.” his voice was husky, and there was barely any space between them. her heart was beating faster, heat rising in her cheeks. “there’s a reason I always work at that desk too. seeing you makes my day.”

he was so close to her that she could have kissed him if he wanted to. all she would have had to do was press up on her toes to match his height, and gently touch her lips to his.

“don’t hide from me, pretty girl.” mick whispered. “I know how pent up you are, I can see it in the way your body responded as I ran my hands over your back. I want to help you. let me help.”

she swallowed, thoughts racing as she gripped his arms, looking up into his cobalt eyes.

she needed this.

needed him.

“yes.”

when mick kissed her, it felt like all the air was leaving her lungs. he was intoxicating, the heady scent of his cologne overwhelming her senses. she moaned into the kiss, aching and longing for human contact.

“my sweet girl.” he mumbled, trialing kisses up her jaw and over behind her ear, hands coming up to knead her sensitive breasts as she leaned back against the shelving cart. “when was the last time someone treated you right?”

“s-six months.” she stuttered, panting heavily.

it was pathetic, mick had barely even done anything and she was seconds away from whining for him.

he clicked his tongue, gripping her waist and pushing her back further against the cart. a few reference books fell to the floor, but neither student noticed. his breath was warm against her ear, the tip of his nose brushing her cartilage and making her shiver.

“that’s just won’t do. whenever you came in here, I bet you were thinking about sitting under my desk and using your cute little mouth the keep my cock warm.”

noticing how her body tensed up, the boy changed his tune. “or maybe you’re not into that. maybe you just wanted me to whisk you away to the rare book room and press you up against the bookshelf, have my way with you. our dirty little secret”

ah, yes. that was the reaction he was looking for, her thighs clenching at the thought as he slotted his knee on between her legs.

“that’s my girl.” mick cooed as she grinded against his thigh. “you just need my cock to fill you up, don’t you? those fingers of yours just aren’t the same, are they?”

she opened her mouth to respond, forehead resting against his, when she leaned back too far, the cart tumbling out from behind her.

mick caught her by the waist, smoothly spinning around and returning her to her feet, ignoring the toppled cart. nose to nose, the absurdity of the situation dawned on her.

and she laughed.

and he laughed with her.

that was what she needed from a man. someone who could laugh with her, even during their most intimate of moments, someone who let all the best parts of his non-bedroom personality shine through while also knowing exactly what she needed him to say to get her off.

a gentleman.

and that’s what mick schumacher was.

he carried her bridal style back to the long mahogany table, placing her down gently and sweetly before giving her a sweet kiss, his tongue teasing the seam of her lips.

“so, pretty girl, the ball is in your court now.” mick began, taking her warm hands in his cold ones. “whatever you need me to do, I’ll do.”

“I mean, I’ve heard the rare book room is super sexy. the smell of old books is like an aphrodisiac for me.” she said in a sing-song voice, thinking about his teasing from earlier. “then again, so are the vaulted ceilings in here.”

“I bet I could make you come so hard for me that you can see those stars on the ceiling fresco with your eyes closed.”

“wanna bet, pretty boy?” she was confident in her decision, but there was still nervousness behind her eyes.

she’d felt the way his dick pressed up against the seams of the zipper on his slacks. taking it was going to hurt.

he kissed her nose softly, fingers reassuringly rubbing circles on her skin. “I’ve got you, princess. you just need to relax and let me fuck all of that stress out of your pretty little head.”

she kissed him again, one hand on either side of his neck as she tried to press her body up against his, body flushed with need.

he gently turned her around, guiding her body so that she was bent over the table, the wood cool against her body.

mick playfully smacked her ass over her denim shorts.“such a pretty girl for your librarian, aren’t you?”

instead of the expected response, mick was delighted to get a laugh out of her. her giggles made him high, heat rising on his skin.

“was that supposed to be sexy?” she giggled, one hand reaching behind her to cradle his, thumb passing over his knuckles.

“maybe.” mick chirped. “baby, you’ve gotta let me have my other hand so I can get your shorts off.” she let go of his hand, allowing his smooth fingers to undo the button and gently draw the denim down her legs. “and for the record, I think that librarian is a damn sexy title.”

“but it’s not really a title.” she laughed, enjoying the feeling of his hands on her body, massaging the flesh of her ass before tugging her cotton panties to the side.

he smacked her ass again, cock perking up at the tiny moan she let out. “it can be whatever I damn well want it to be, princess.” his voice was playful, and it made her wet to no end.

she needed this adorable idiot to fuck her.

now.

there was little warning as he slipped two fingers into her, the cold of the rings on his fingers making her squeal as he started to flex his digits.

his fingers were so fucking long. they felt so much better than her own fingers did, that was for sure.

“that’s my pretty girl, taking my fingers like a goddamn champion. you’re fucking dripping, princess.” mick cooed, moaning at the sight of her arousal running down his wrist, the sound his fingers made as he scissored them inside of her. “atta girl, so good for your librarian, aren’t you?”

“yes.” she panted, bucking her hips against his fingers with a cry, reaching back to grab his free hand with the hand that wasn’t holding her steady on the desk. “oh, fuck, sir.”

god, she needed this. and for a nerdy guy, he sure fucking knew how to use his fingers.

she felt his hand come down on her ass again. “what did you call me?” his voice was light, with the hint of a smile behind it. “I want you to say it again, princess.”

“mhm, yes sir, please, I need more.” she exaggerated the moan, a playful smile on her face as she played right into micks hands.

she liked this banter they had going, this carefree way of looking at something most people took so seriously. no, this was an experience that felt uniquely her whereas other guys she had been with just did what they always did, not caring about what she needed to get off.

but with mick, yes, that dominant demeanour was still there, but in a gentle ‘let me take care of you’ way.

and that was sexy as fuck.

she whined as mick withdrew his fingers, tapping her side with two of his fingers. “turn around, pretty girl. I don’t like not being able to see your stunning face.”

while her thighs tingled, her chest bloomed with affection and love at the thought that mick thought she was pretty.

and it was true. the library was dim, the warm lighting from the tiffany lamps framing the flyaways from her hair and the pink in her cheeks. the cupids bow of her lips, and that gorgeous fucking smile.

he was so down bad for her, it made his cock ache.

she perched on the edge of the desk, wincing and attempting to hide her embarassment at the wet patch she was leaving on the old table, the unshaven landscape of her thighs (and between her legs).

goosebumps rose on her arms as she watched mick lick her juices off her fingers, moaning at the taste like it was his favourite thing in the world. sensing the goosebumps, he ran his hands up her arms to warm her up.

“you decide how far we go tonight, love. how many orgasms do you want?”

oh fuck.

mick laughed sweetly, seeing the overwhelmed look on her face. he kissed her forehead tenderly, brushing a lock of hair behind her ear. “how about we start with one and see you feel from there.”

“yeah. I’d like that.” she answered shyly, feeling the cold creep in.

the old library was drafty, yet kept to a very specific temperature. she expected to be overheating from how hot this encounter was, but alas, the air conditioning system just had to go and ruin it

“here.” mick said softly, undoing his shirt to expose the silver chain that rested below his sternum, a pendant with an orthodox saint carved into it.

he undid the shirt slowly, allowing her ample time to rake her prying eyes over every perfectly sculpted part of his body, right down to the tent in his pants.

sliding the shirt fully off, he used both hands to drape the soft fabric over her body. she swooned at the motion, letting him flip the collar up against her neck.

“don’t want you catching a cold now, do we, sweet girl?” he said sheepishly, his face flushed pink and a sheen of sweat on his abs as he cupped her face, leaning in to kiss her softly.

“mick.” she whined. “I need you now. I’m aching for my librarian to make me feel good.”

“I’ve got you, princess. I’ve got you.” he hummed, undoing the button on his slacks. he pushed down his boxers, erect cock springing to life.

“holy fuck.” she hummed.

his dick was impressive. all seven thick inches of it, resting against her thigh when she opened her legs and pulled him closer. she wasn’t even sure if it was possible for a dick to be pretty, but if it was, micks cock was the very definition of the word.

“so wet for me. I’ll slide right on home.” mick said, gripping his cock in one hand and running it all along her slicked up opening. now she knew her goosebumps weren’t from the cold, but from the anticipation of what was to come next.

“please, I need your cock.” she whined.

“whatever my girl wants, she gets. you just relax and let your librarian fuck all those little worries away.”

he slid in slowly, letting her adjust to take him inch by inch. the stretch burned slightly, and she found herself opening her legs wider with every inch. she had a white-knuckled grip on the table, her breaths coming out in a mixture of strangled moans and pants.

when he finally slid fully in, his heavy balls resting against her ass, she opened her eyes and changed a look down at where they connected, a moan leaving her mouth.

“that’s just what you needed, isn’t it love? a fat cock to fill you up and make you feel good.”

it was a question he didn’t expect an answer from as he started to thrust in and out of her, hands gripping her thighs to pull her in.

“oh, god!” she whined throwing her head back, breasts bouncing under her top as mick slammed into her. “feels so good, mick.”

“that’s my girl.” his voice was low and husky, but also soothing. his hands on her body was a grounding presence.

her fingernails scraped down his chest, leaving pink marks in their wake as she moaned, babbling incoherently about how good mick was making her feel.

it was heavenly. he overwhelmed every one of her senses. it was an out of body experience, if she was being honest. something out of her wildest dreams.

mick kissed her again, groaning into her mouth as he pistoned his cock in and out of her. she was practically dripping everywhere, but had no time or energy to worry about the mess she was making.

all she could think about was how good she felt with mick inside of her.

“just breathe, darling. you’re doing so fucking good for me.”

he shifted her position on the desk, maneuvering one of her legs over his shoulder. she yelped in pleasure, nails sinking into his shoulders as she screamed a curse.

“fuck, that feels so good!”

the new angle was dizzying, his length brushing up against her spongy walls with every thrust. her eyes rolled back and her vision went blurry from pleasure as she meweled under his touch.

“that’s it, pretty girl. come for me. come for your librarian.”

“oh, fuck, mick, I-“ her words tapered off into a hearty moan, micks shirt lying in a puddle behind her as she wrapped her arms around his torso, burying her head in his chest as she came with a cry of his name, tears leaking from her eyes. “mick.”

“I’ve got you, I’ve got you.” mick cooed, kissing her forehead as he slowed his thrusts, gently working her through her orgasm. “there we go, you’re safe here. just breathe with me, can you do that, princess?”

she nodded, out of breath as mick gently eased her achy leg off his shoulder and back down to the table. he slid out of her, and the empty feeling made her whine. he gently shushed her, covering her face in kisses.

“mick, you never finished.” she pouted

“don’t worry about it, princess. this was about you. all that mattered to me was that you got your earth shattering orgasm.”

she rolled her eyes, reaching for his still-hard cock. “let me do something nice for you, dumbass.”

and who was mick to complain when she was doing such a good fucking job stroking his cock? her hands were smooth and soft, and the angelic way that she looked up at him, that sweet smile on her swollen lips while her hands worked him to the edge?

within minutes he was bellowing, spurting thick measures of come over her hands and down her arm, his entire body shaking.

“Jesus Christ.” he muttered. “you’re good at that.”

“when you hate giving blowjobs, you learn how to give a damn good handjob.” she smiled softly, unsure what to do with her sticky hands.

mick scooped her up gently, carrying her away from the desk and down the long hall to the staff bathroom. “come on, love. let’s get you cleaned up.”

after they were somewhat presentable (because, after all, there’s little you can do about the flushed skin and sex hair when you’re still in a public library), they gathered the last of their belongings and started to shut the library down for the day.

“what about the shelving cart?” she asked shyly, gesturing to the cart they had knocked over.

mick laughed. “I don’t work tomorrow, so it’s someone else’s problem.”

she watched with a soft smile as mick turned all the lights in the old building off, before he linked his arm with hers and they began the walk out of the parking lot.

“I hate to sound presumptuous,” mick began “but you’ve been here all day and I haven’t seen you leave to get food or anything. you must be starving. there’s an all night diner about two blocks from here, and I’d like to treat you to dinner.”

she smiled, kissing his cheek. “I’d love that, mick. thank you.”

and they both knew that this was going to be the start of something wonderful.

as soon as exams were over, of course.

the rest of the student body’s female population was not going to be happy when they showed up at the library and found that y/n y/l/n had finally captured their librarian’s heart.

TAGS:

@magnummagnussen @libraryofloveletters @diorleclerc @twinkodium @thatsdemko @httpiastri @sidcrosbyspuck

I want Fernando Alonso to **** ** **** * **** *** *** ******* *** **** ****** ******

gazing into each other’s eyes during sex when you make love instead of just hooking up for the first time (mick)

there's not enough mick so here we are 

Being friends with benefits with the boy you’ve been in love with since you were 13 wasn’t the best plan but there you were. You and Mick had grown up together, your mothers best friends since before Mick’s parents got married. 

You’ve had a crush on Mick since you were kids, his blonde hair and blue eyes staring at you from across the dining room table at all the family dinners. So now you're both in your 20s, you and Mick had become good friends, best friends basically. 

When he started travelling for F1, he brought you along with him so he wouldn’t be alone. Pent up frustration and anger from one bad race to the other and one thing led to the other, the two of you ended up in bed together. 

It was purely physically, or at least that’s what you told each other. Tonight, you and Mick had got out for dinner, as you do most nights. 

One flirty remark leads to a kiss which leads to someone’s shirt coming off then your pants and now you’re in bed with him. 

Your legs hooked on his hips, one of Mick’s hand above your head on the pillow. “God, you’re beautiful.” He mumbles against your lips before he kisses you. 

You smile, sucking in a breath when you feel him push deeper. “Mick-” “Shh, I know.” He breathes, his blue eyes meeting yours. 

For a minute, it feels real. You weren’t hooking up or friends with benefits, you were real; in love. 

His hips hit yours, the pace steady but his eyes still fixed on yours. Mick’s forehead against yours. “I love you.” He whispers. 

You kiss him, hands cupping his cheeks. The whimper slipping past yours lips as he hits the spot he’d been looking for. “I love you.” you breathe, “I love you.” 

Someone Sane

Max Verstappen x friends to lovers

Masterlist

Part Two to Always Walk Me Home (would recommend reading AWMH first)

Summary: You and Max have a shared love for strawberry wine. The rest of your friends think you’ve got bad taste. Or: @vetteltea read Always Walk Me Home and asked for more about the strawberry wine, and then I ran with it. So this is also a bit of a prequel, really 🍓

Warnings: alcohol/intoxication

You walk through the front door of the apartment, shucking off your coat and slipping off your shoes. Max Verstappen’s apartment is a shoes off household. You’ve learned that in the two and a half months you’ve known him. You can hear your friends in the kitchen, laughing loudly about something. One of Max’s cats- Jimmy or Sassy, you can’t tell them apart- is sitting in the hall, watching you curiously.

You’re the last one to arrive. You’d had to work late, had told them to get started without you. You bend to pat the cat on the head on your way past. Everyone is gathered in the kitchen, standing around the island. Someone yells your name enthusiastically when you walk in. Your friend Louise, the one who’d introduced you to this friend group, shoves a wine glass in front of you. It’s not full, just a half glass of something pink.

“Try it,” she says.

Her eyes are wide. Everyone is staring at you. This feels like some sort of initiation. You smell the cup- you’d have assumed it was a rosé, but there’s a hint of something else there. Trusting your friends to not have spiked it with something, you take a cautious sip. Strawberries. It’s strawberry wine. Sweet and sugary. Next to you, Louise laughs. You furrow your brows and stare at her.

“What?” You ask.

“The wine,” she says through a giggle. “It’s awful, isn’t it?”

You take another sip. She raises her brows.

“No?” You say, before you down the rest of the glass. “No, that’s good. I love strawberries.”

Her jaw drops open. The rest of the group erupts into chaos. Someone calls you batshit insane. You look around in bewilderment.

“Thank god,” Max says, taking your glass from your hand. “Someone sane is finally here.”

He’s holding the bottle of wine in his hand. You don’t know Max very well- he’d been a friend of a friend up until a few months ago, when Louise invited you to a party and then kept inviting you to events. You’re… friendly. He intimidates you a bit. He’s smiling at you now, though, as he pours you a full glass of the wine.

“They all think it’s awful,” he says, shaking his head in disappointment. “I was going to drink the whole thing by myself. It would’ve been sad.”

You blink and laugh, taking the glass back from him. “Cheers, then, I guess?”

He picks his glass up from the counter and clinks it against yours.

…..

“Does anyone want wine?” You call out from your kitchen into the living room.

It’s a quiet night. Not everyone was able to make it, so you’re at your apartment. There’s a football match playing on the TV that nobody’s really paying attention to. There’s a few people playing some sort of game of cards that you didn’t even try to understand. Everyone else is just sitting around and chatting.

“What kind?” Louise calls back.

You open the fridge and laugh. “Never mind.”

“S’that fucking strawberry shit, isn’t it?”

“Maybe,” you say in a singsongy tone.

You turn around, reaching for your corkscrew. At the very least, it means you won’t have to share with everyone. Just-

Max calls out. “Bring me a glass? And maybe just bring the bottle in here?”

Someone is making fun of him for it, you can hear it from the other room. You do as he said, though. You hand him the glass, having already poured the wine into it. Then you turn to head back to your original seat. Max reaches up with his free hand and tugs on your wrist.

He pats the open spot on the couch next to him. “Sit here? So we can share the wine.”

Your face grows hot, but you nod and come around to sit next to him. He’s potentially the only one watching the football match- you think his favorite team is one of the ones playing. You feel a bit out of alignment for a moment. You’re in your own apartment, on your own couch, but something about him asking you to sit next to him has thrown you off kilter. You take a breath and try to relax. He doesn’t mean anything by it. You’re overthinking it.

You settle back into the couch by your second glass. By Max’s second, he throws his arm over the back of the sofa, his fingers just barely brushing your neck in the process. It’s nothing, but it makes you shiver anyways.

…..

Max is out of the country on your birthday. He’s in Spain for the Grand Prix. He’ll be back soon after, though, and then the next race is in Monaco. You’re already buzzing with excitement, chatting with your friends about outfits and plans and events throughout the weekend.

The night of your birthday your friends take you out to dinner. It’s a Monday night, so it won’t be anything too crazy, but it’s nice to know they’re thinking about you. You have good food, better wine, and then Louise invites everyone back to her apartment to hang out for the rest of the night. You’re in her kitchen when you hear the front door open. It strikes you as odd- you’d all walked here together. Though you suppose someone could be leaving, or popping out to get some air. You’re reaching into the fridge when someone clears their throat. You turn over your shoulder and find Max.

“Hi, birthday girl,” he says, voice soft and scratchy. He holds up a bag. “Brought you a present.”

You stare at him for a few seconds, because you swear his plane didn’t land until 8:00, and it’s only 8:30. You sort of want to hug him, but he’s not a very touchy person, and you’re not sure you know him well enough yet. You cross the kitchen anyway.

“What are you doing here?” You ask. “You were in Spain.”

He laughs. “It’s not that long of a flight.”

“Yeah, but…” you blink up at him. “You had a busy weekend. I didn’t expect you to come over.”

He tilts his head at you. “It’s your birthday.”

He says it like that’s enough explanation. To him, maybe it is. He may not be a touchy person, but he is the type to show up for his friends. You’ve seen examples of it everywhere- he’s the first to respond in a group chat, the first to show up to every party. It’s a side of him that you don’t think the rest of the world gets to see very often. You’re honored to somehow be a part of it.

He holds the gift bag out to you. “I don’t think I’m going to stay long,” he admits, scrubbing at his scruff with his free hand. “I’m exhausted. But I wanted to at least stop by.”

You take the bag. “You didn’t have to get me anything, you know.”

He shrugs. “I wanted to.”

Inside the bag you find a soft, light scarf, similar to the one Louise wore the last time you saw Max. You’d complimented it, asked where she got it- she’d answered a boutique in Spain. You gasp, running the fabric through your fingers. It’s cream colored, and you wrap it around your neck happily. Then you realize the bag still feels heavy. You reach inside again and your fingers wrap around the neck of a wine bottle. You know what it’s going to be before you even pull it out.

You hold the bottle to your chest and smile up at him. “My favorite.”

He’s smiling a bright smile, has been since you took the bag from him. It makes his cheeks squish and his eyes crinkle. The look he’s giving you is warm and soft. Your heart thuds wildly in your chest. It’s just him being friendly. That’s enough, really, isn’t it? Max picks his friends carefully. The fact that he’s here, that he made such an effort to be here with you for your birthday, is enough.

You uncork the bottle and pour two glasses- one for you and one for him.

It’s not until the next morning that you notice the embroidery on the end of the scarf- a tiny pink strawberry, hidden in the corner.

…..

Your apartment is packed to the brim with people. Your friends are here, your friend’s friends are here, people’s siblings and cousins. What started as a small Grand Prix afterparty has turned into a bit of an overwhelming event. The guest of honor isn’t even here, and likely won’t be. He may have showed, had told you he was planning on it, but then he went and won the race, and now you’re sure he’s busy. You’re sure Red Bull has roped him into some sort of sponsored event.

You’d texted him to tell him congratulations, but so far he hasn’t answered. You can’t say you blame him. You’d seen the celebrations at the podium ceremony- there’s no way he’s had a moment alone.

You and your friends had opted to go back to your apartment since it was closest. However, with this many friends all in town to watch him race, your home has become a bit of a landing pad. You can barely make it through your own kitchen without stepping on somebody’s toes. You’re running dangerously low on alcohol, though you wonder if that may be a good thing. Maybe it’s time to move this party to a club or a restaurant or anywhere other than your tiny apartment.

You squeeze your way through to the front hallway, trying to find anywhere that has any sort of space. You can see from here that your balcony is nearly dangerously packed with people. You reach into the hall cupboard, where you know you keep a couple bottles of wine-

The front door swings open. You groan at the idea of another person in your apartment, resting your head on the edge of a shelf in the cupboard. You don’t even bother looking to see who it is, because everyone you know is already here.

“Holy shit,” you hear. “I didn’t know you could fit this many people in here.”

You peer around the cupboard door. Max is standing there, a wide grin on his face. He smells like champagne and Red Bull. Someone makes their way through the hallway, and he steps back to stay hidden behind the open door.

“We figured you were out with the team,” you say, eyes wide.

“I’m going,” he says, jerking his head towards the hallway. “I came to get you guys. Who are all of these people?”

“Friends of friends, people’s families, I don’t know,” you say, still peering around the door at him. “I think someone’s grandma is here. We’re almost out of alcohol. I’m grabbing wine.”

You pull the bottle from the cupboard and hold it up to him. He grins impossibly wider at the label. Strawberry wine.

“Nobody else will drink that,” he says. “You’re going to have a mutiny on your hands.”

“Yeah, well, I got it as a gift for you, to celebrate the race, but now I’m thinking about chugging it and then locking myself in the bedroom.”

Max raises his brows. You stare back at him. Then it hits you. You step around the cupboard door and without thinking, you throw your arms around him.

“Congrats, by the way. On the race.”

You remember mid hug that this is Max, and that Max doesn’t really like hugs. Before you can pull away, though, he’s wrapping his arms around you. He squeezes you tight to his chest for a moment. You feel him rest his chin on top of your head.

“Thank you,” he says, quietly. “I’m glad you were there to see it. And thank you for the wine.”

You know he’s talking generally, about your friend group. But for a moment, you let yourself think he’s talking just about you.

“I have a better plan,” he says, keeping you held against his chest. “You and I take that bottle. We sneak it into the club with us.”

“And all the people in my apartment?” You ask, flinching as you hear something that sounds an awful lot like broken glass.

He sighs. “We bring them with us. It’s better than them destroying your place.”

“Even the grandma?”

“Grandmas love nightclubs.”

You laugh into his chest. “You should go. If someone sees you they’ll go crazy.”

He pulls away and grabs your shoulders. “We should go. We’ll call Louise on the way, tell her where to meet us.”

Really, who are you to say no? He’s Max Verstappen, he’s just won the Monaco Grand Prix. So you slip on a pair of shoes and follow him out the front door before anyone can catch sight of him. Then you’re walking down the streets of Monaco, side by side with him. He takes the bottle of wine from your hands and stops at a crowd of people partying in someone’s front lawn.

“Has anyone got a corkscrew?” He calls out. Someone throws one to him. He opens the bottle, then calls, “and maybe a couple cups?”

Two plastic cups are handed through the crowd to him. They ask him to sign the corkscrew. He hands it back afterwards and shoves the cork in his pocket. Then he pours two glasses and hands one to you. Strawberry wine on a sidewalk in Monaco, in step with the man who won the Grand Prix. You’ve never had a stranger or better day.

He calls Louise when the club is in sight. “Yeah, just down the road. Uh-huh. No, bring everyone.” You hear Louise say something. “Well I don’t know, does the grandma want to come to the party?” He asks, quirking a brow at you. “Then bring her. Okay. See you soon, then. Oh- no, wait, Louise- she’s with me.” He reaches out and squeezes your upper arm lightly. The touch sends sparks shivering up your spine. “Yeah. Long story. Just meet us there, yeah?”

…..

It’s nearly Christmas, and you’re stressed. That might be an understatement, actually. The holidays are always stressful, plus a project at work that’s gone haywire, leaving you picking up the pieces. You wouldn’t even be at the party, too exhausted and so tired of people, if it wasn’t your last chance to see most of your friends before the holidays kick off. You’re leaving to spend time with your family soon. It’s one of the few things you’re looking forward to.

You wander through the party feeling a bit like a zombie. It’s Max’s apartment, with more people in attendance than your usual group. You bounce from friend to friend, always clinging to someone’s side, trying to avoid talking to anyone you don’t know, or anyone at all, really. You’re just socially exhausted.

Max finds you in the kitchen. He sweeps you under his arm into a quick side hug, and you force a smile when you look up at him. He sees right through it, frowning down at you.

“What’s wrong?” He asks, poking your cheek lightly.

You try harder to make the smile genuine. “Nothing! Why?”

He stares at you, tilts his head. “You’re lying.”

You shrug. “M’just tired.”

You can tell he doesn’t believe you. But someone asks him a question, and the friend you’ve glued yourself to is leaving the room, so you follow. You don’t see Max for a while. In fact, it’s been a suspiciously long amount of time. Somebody else has noticed and brings it up, asking where he’s gone off to.

“Oh, he ran to the store, I think. Didn’t say why.”

Someone suggests a drinking game. You make a break for the balcony. Jimmy is standing in front of the door, staring up at you.

“Jim,” you mutter, bending to pet him. “I know you’re gonna make a run for it the second I open the door.”

He meows at you, like he understands. You try to usher him towards Max’s bedroom, but he stays put. You sigh in frustration. In the living room, the noise kicks up another notch. When Max steps into the hallway, there are tears in your eyes.

“Did he scratch you?” Max asks.

You pinch the bridge of your nose and squeeze your eyes shut. “No. M’fine.”

Max clicks his tongue at you. You sigh, again. There’s a shuffling noise, and then you hear the sliding door open. Cool air hits your face. Max’s hands land on your shoulders and he leads you outside. You’re in socks, and the concrete is cold on your feet. You open your eyes and sit down on the patio couch. Max closes the door behind him and sits down next to you. It’s then that you notice the bottle of wine in his hand. Strawberry wine. You’d checked the fridge earlier- that bottle wasn’t there. So either he’s been hiding it, or… he ran to the store. Didn’t say why. Your throat feels tight.

He hands you the bottle carefully. He’s already opened it, but he neglected to bring any glasses. You shrug and tip the bottle to your lips. Sweet, sugary, room temperature wine washes over your tongue and you sigh.

“What’s going on?” He asks, gesturing for the bottle. He waits patiently as he takes a sip, too.

You huff and rub your cheeks with your empty hands. “Nothing, Max. I’m fine. There’s a whole party inside, I’m sure they’d love to play drinking games with you, so-“

“But I’m here with you,” he says patiently, voice soft. Your heart is cracking wide open in your chest. “Because I want to be. So tell me what’s going on.”

There’s so much to tell him that you don’t know where to start. It’s your family, it’s the traveling you’re about to do. It’s work, so stressful you wish you could just quit. It’s this awful feeling you can’t shake that maybe none of your friends really want you here. It’s Max, and the way your heart skips a beat when he looks at you. The way your stomach fills with butterflies when he touches you. The way he could have any girl in the whole world, and you’re just his friend. You curl your knees close to your chest and wrap your arms around them.

“I’m just stressed,” you admit, figuring that’s the easiest answer. “Work, and the holidays, and… just , everything. You know?”

He nods, passes the bottle of wine back to you. You take another drink. You study the label of it to try and keep yourself from crying in front of him. That would be embarrassing. That would scare him off. You rest your chin on your knee. Then you feel it.

Max’s arm, draping over your shoulders. The weight of him is heavy and steady and warm. He’s going to throw you into a tailspin with just that one motion. Then- like he doesn’t know how much he’s already affecting you- he presses his hand to your shoulder and pulls you against his side. Fuck. You’re not going to cry in front of him. You won’t do it. But Max doesn’t do hugs and cuddling, he’s not a touchy person, and yet he’s wrapping himself around you to hold you close.

You rest your head against his shoulder and take another drink of wine. He takes the bottle back and does the same. His hand sweeps up and down your upper back in a soothing motion, over and over again.

You’re not going to cry. You won’t. You close your eyes instead. You feel Max’s cheek against the top of your head. You won’t cry.

“Maybe after the holidays we should all go somewhere warm and relaxing,” he says. You let out a noise somewhere between a sob and a laugh. “I think we could all use a bit of a break, no?”

You nod against his chest. He squeezes your shoulder. If you keep your eyes squeezed shut, he won’t see the tears. You can’t cry in front of him. So you sit, blind to the world around you, your head pressed to his chest.

Later, you blink your eyes open to the sound of voices, feeling disoriented. Someone is saying something to Max, saying your name. And Max, his voice rumbling beneath your chest-

“-walk her home, or she can stay here,” he says. “I’ve got her, mate.”

The sliding door closes. You realize you’d fallen asleep. Your face heats up, unsure of if you should pretend you’re not awake or if you should pull away immediately. You’re still trying to decide when Max’s hand starts brushing up and down your back again. Your eyes slip closed. You can feel the steady rise and fall of his chest with each breath. No wonder you fell asleep.

Max shifts, squeezing your shoulder. “Schatje, time to wake up,” he whispers, close to your ear.

You sigh and pull away, sitting up to look at him. He keeps an arm wrapped around your shoulders. You rub your eyes, trying to clear the sleep from them. You’re too exhausted to find it in yourself to be embarrassed about falling asleep on him. Besides, he could’ve woken you up if he wanted to. He’s being a good friend.

“It’s late,” he says. You swear you’re imagining it when his hand comes up and his fingers brush against your cheek. “Do you want to sleep in the guest room?”

You nod.

In the morning, when you drag yourself out of bed, Max is gone. There’s a note on the counter. He had early morning training, and then a padel game. Didn’t want to wake you. Next to the note, there’s a bowl of strawberries. Sassy winds herself around your ankles. You smile and try to slow the beating of your heart.

…..

Max is standing in your empty apartment one night, the last of your friends to leave. You’re wandering through the living room, picking up cups and trying to pretend he isn’t watching you. When you try to walk by him and head for the kitchen, he grabs your hip.

You stop and stare. His eyes are boring into yours, wide and blue and soft. There’s a smile on his lips. You haven’t asked him yet why he’s still here, mostly because you don’t really want him to go. His hand is burning a hole in the fabric of your shirt where he’s holding onto you. You think if you look down, you’ll find flames licking up your side. But you can’t tear your eyes away from him.

His other hand sneaks up, and his fingers brush against the side of your face. It reminds you of the moment on his balcony, weeks ago now. You’re caught between wanting to let your eyes slip closed and never wanting to break his gaze.

You realize moment’s later he’s looking for some sort of confirmation from you. He’s waiting, though you’re not sure exactly what he’s looking for. In an act of blind, foolish courage, you take a step towards him and wind one of your arms around the back of his neck. Max sighs. You twist your fingers into the hair on the nape of his neck.

Max is your friend. This could ruin everything. If this goes badly…

You take another step closer. You can hear his soft breaths. His fingers brush against your cheek- you swear you feel him tremble, just slightly, just enough for you to know. He wants this, but he’s scared, too. His heart is beating just as fast. His mind is racing just as fast.

When he kisses you, his lips taste like strawberry wine.

…..

Max is holding your hand on the sidewalk. He’s walking you home from a club you’d been at with your friends. You love him, but you haven’t told him yet. You’ve only just realized it that night, seeing yourself laugh in the bathroom mirror and then seeing the smile on his face when he looked at you.

Next to you, though you don’t know it, Max is having the exact same realization.

…..

“Can you grab my watch?” Max calls out from the kitchen. “In the bedside table, top drawer?”

You’re trying to resist the urge to tell him to find it himself. You’re horribly late to a dinner, this stupidly fancy dinner that has you second guessing every piece of clothing you put on. Max was no help, telling you that everything you tried on was perfect and beautiful and would look even better on his floor. You love him, but today, he’s driving you insane.

You stomp over to the bedside table and open the drawer. The box with his watch is sitting there, nestled in with other odds and ends. You pick up the box and almost close the drawer without even noticing. But something makes you pause and stare.

In the drawer there’s a little plastic tray, and it’s full of wine corks. You recognize the logo. Max is calling your name in the other room, something about hurrying up, but suddenly you don’t care about the stupid dinner. You’re thinking of that sidewalk stroll you took so long ago, the corkscrew he borrowed, the way he put the cork in his pocket. You’d thought it was to throw it away later.

He calls your name again, from the doorway. You reach into the drawer without turning around, running your fingers over the corks. He makes a noise and walks across the room to you, wraps his arms around your waist and tucks his chin over your shoulder.

“Did you save the all corks?” You ask, voice breathy.

Max nods, presses his lips to your bare shoulder. “All except the very first one. By the time I… when I went to grab it, it was gone.”

You laugh. You can’t help it. You turn around and press yourself into his arms and laugh. He’s staring down at you in bewilderment. He’s been driving you crazy all afternoon, he must think you’ve finally snapped.

“The first cork is in my jewelry box,” you tell him, and a laugh bubbles up between his lips, too. “I took it off the counter. I didn’t know why, at the time. Just felt like I should.”

You’re late to the dinner. Max makes an excuse. Nobody believes it, but you can’t bring yourself to care.

…..

Some time later, there will be a moment. It won’t matter where you are, or what you’re doing. It will be you and Max, and you will look at him and the whole world will melt away. And the strangest thought will pop into your head.

Our friends are going to send us strawberry wine when we get engaged, you’ll think. And they will bring it to the wedding.

He’ll turn to you, like he’s heard your thoughts. He’ll smile, cheeks pink as the strawberry wine. At that same moment, he’ll be wondering if strawberry shortcake is an acceptable wedding dessert. Every time you taste strawberries, you’ll think back to the kitchen in his apartment. The wine you were supposed to hate. And Max, a smile on his face, glad to not be alone.

Someone sane is finally here, he’d said.

And then everything had changed.

p.s.: am I way too invested in this pairing? Probably. Have I already decided what their wedding song would be? Definitely.

p.s. again: ironically, it turns out both @vetteltea and I hate strawberry wine 🍓

Taglist: @4-mula1 @celestialams @struggling-with-delia @lovekt

please- I love the ideal of Mick being and acting all innocent in front of his friends and family, but behind closed doors, mans is the kinkest boy alive. 😫

okay no yeah, I think because we all think mick is a sweet baby angel which he is, we almost forget that, he probably has other ideas in the bedroom LMAOOO 

so the first time you met mick, you had the same thought as most people; he was a sweetheart who’d get you home 15 minutes before you were expecting too, walk you to the door, kiss on the cheek gentleman. 

you were right, because he is. 

but alas, mick is still a man after all and well, he had urges and fantasies as does everyone else lmao. 

mick takes asks you to join him for a race weekend, your relationship is still new and you were taking things slow but you wanted to go with him.

he went as far as asking you to come and telling you about all the things/places he wanted to show you. 

you cave and join him, mick takes the first 2 afternoons after his media duties to show you around the city, take you to his favourite spots and you really did have a good time with, any time with him was always special to you. 

mick takes you to dinner on saturday, a late dinner after their quali session in singapore. 

he was the perfect gentleman as always; held the door open for you, held the umbrella over the two of you, picked up the tab despite your insisting that you wanted too (because he had already paid for everything else) 

you two ended up back at the hotel, mick was sitting on the bed when he notices the belt around the middle of your dress.

he asks if he can see it for a moment so you step in front of him, letting him unhook the belt from around you and fiddle with it for a moment. 

mick takes your wrists and pulls them together, wrapping the belt around them. 

you were a little confused but you were going with it because the throbbing between your legs was doing all the thinking right now. 

he asks if it’s too tight, you tell him no so he bends you over the bed, and fucked you like that, dress bunched up over your hips. 

it spiralled from there. 

mick got more forward with his advances. 

you two in bed, positions unimagined to the passing eye, building a collection all different types of restraints, toys; anything you could think of. 

mick had an entire album of photos and videos of you two in any possible scenario imaginable. 

any place he felt like, that was private enough that no one could catch you, but still public. 

his hands wandering along your hips or your back was his way of telling you he needs you, now. 

he was a curious person by nature, he liked to fiddle with things, figure them out and you were no exception. 

to the public, mick was a sweet boy; kind and gentle, temper very very very rarely making an appearance. 

to you, mick was a risk taker, pushing the limits and you, to the brink every time and you wouldn’t want it any other way. 

hi! i was wondering if i could request something for joe burrow? specifically a smut request of angry jealous sex 🤭

❝don't blame me❞ - joe burrow x reader

─⋆♡ an: based on this ask & don't blame me by taylor swift. hopefully, it's angry enough. y'all know i'm all sunshine, rainbows, and fluff. unedited so ignore any mistakes. i hope y'all enjoy. ★ ˙ᵕ˙ liv

─⋆♡ summary: joey gets jealous at a nightclub and shows you who you belong to.

─⋆♡ warnings: overstimulation, softdom!joey, smut, angst, 18+ black!writer, language, alcohol, D!NC, physical descriptors (brief), choking, spitting, claiming, rough smut, anal play, unprotected sex (i do not condone irl, wrap before you tap).

The music in the club vibrates through the bar beneath as the bartender refills the glasses with more tequila. I suck on the lime I plucked from behind the bar before listing the second round of shots. Just before I clink the glass with my best friend, she pauses. I open my mouth to ask her if everything is okay just to make sure, but I feel a hand on my waist before I do. 

She notices me freezing and looks behind me. “It’s just Joe,” she reassures before taking the second shot.

Setting my still-full glass down, I slowly turn around until Joe’s seafoam irises meet mine. “Hey, baby. You want to take a shot with us?” I ask, wrapping my arms around his neck.

He shakes his head in response, squeezing my ass slightly. “If I drink, who’s going to make sure you get home?”

Bobbing to the music, I close my eyes feeling the tequila coursing through my veins. Turning around, I push my back into his crotch, lazily grinding on him. “I’m just trying to make sure you have fun. Besides, you never get drunk with me.”

He bends down, pressing a kiss on my neck. “And there’s a reason for that,” he murmurs against my skin.

He pushes me forward until I'm bending over the bar counter. “Whatever you say. You know you can't deny my persuasive ways.” 

I turn my head as he watches me grind on his growing bulge. After a few moments, I become eager to chat with Joe again. “Come dance with me,” I demand.

His hand snakes up the side of my body until it’s wrapped around my throat. “I don’t dance,” he growls in my ear.

I smile at his teasing, meeting his blazing dark eyes. After all, he always knew just what made me tick. “Well come be creepy and stand behind me while I twerk on you. Protect me from weird men,” I retort but he doesn’t budge.

My eyes flicker back and forth between his and when I realize he’s dead serious, I roll my eyes. Fed up with his bullshit, I dart into onto the crowded dance floor. My focus goes to a tall man who has been eyeing me the entire night. My finger curls, beckoning him over to me and he stalks over with a smirk on his face. “You’re cute. Dance with me,” I demand and he smiles, wrapping his hands around my body.

He practically humps me like a dog as we move through the crowd towards the dance floor. I flash one more mischievous smile at Joe before locking hands with the stranger and dancing with enough respectful space between us.

I’m surprised to find that he’s a surprisingly good dancer. He’s able to keep up with every step, seemingly anticipating my movements. I smile at him and he slides his hand up my waist, pulling me into his body. “You’re really hot,” he bends down and shouts over the music in my ear.

“I know,” I yell back in his ear. “I have a boyfriend,” I break the news to him.

He shrugs, seemingly not caring about my relationship status. “I don’t see him,” he counters, looking around.

My eyes survey the room after him, finding Joe cutting through the shadows to get over to me. When he stands in the spotlight, I see a clear detailed outline of his clenched jaw. “I’ll take it from here,” he grits.

The man looks up at my ridiculously huge boyfriend, scurrying away like a pussy in a heartbeat. My eyes squint at Joe and I put my hand on my hip. “Jealous?” I ask him.

Joe forcefully wraps his hand around my throat, pulling me closer to his face. “Nothing to be jealous of,” he seethes.

I lick my bottom lip, feeling an electric buzz in my brain from his grip on me. He seemingly notices how tight his hold is, releasing me and rubbing my neck. “Good. I know where home is,” I joke before pulling him towards another spot in the club.

I see his head fall back when he laughs, but the closer we get to the music, the more I’m unable to hear the sweet sound leave his lips. Turning around, I put his arm over my shoulder. Once we’re closer to the DJ stand, Joe grabs my hips and pulls me back into his chest. My hair goes wild in front of the big fan, and I push it out of my face. Liquid courage fills me, and I slowly start moving my hips to the music. Once I find my rhythm, I notice Joe moving in sync with me. 

“I thought you said you can’t dance,” I tilt my head and shout up to him. 

He bends down, licking a stripe up my neck. “I said I don’t dance. Never said I couldn’t,” he challenges, pushing me over until I put my hands on my knees.

My ass moves around in a circle over his bulge. Suddenly, he grabs my hips, pressing into me. I gasp as he ghosts my entrance with his clothed dick. “If you keep doing that, you’re going to have to give me an orgasm.” 

He smacks my ass as I continue dancing on him. “You don’t deserve one after that stunt you pulled. But maybe you can earn it back,” he growls, and my eyes go wide. So this is jealous Joe. He’s basically normal Joe, but his obsession with me has turned up to level 10.

We continue dancing in this position for a couple more songs, and I enjoy the feeling of his hands on me. This is the first time I’ve been in the club with him since his off-season is rare. It feels oddly freeing to know he’d hurt someone for me–to know I’m protected no matter what. 

The sound of him rapping behind me reaches my ears. “What do you know about this song, white boy?” I giggle. 

The song starts to change, and I turn around to face him. He presses me back until I’m trapped in between the wall and him. “I’m six years older than you, angel. I’ve had 6 years to go to clubs without you. I practically own this place. I know the music,” he states, running a thumb over my lips. 

His lips attack mine, and I moan into his mouth. The taste of alcohol lingers on his tongue as it wrestles with mine for dominance. My cunt is practically sizzling like an Applebee’s fajita, and I’m left breathless from the kiss. 

“Well, excuse me,” I stammer, trying to pull his lips back down to mine.

He pauses just before our lips touch, leaving me dizzy and ready to beg for him. “We’re going somewhere,” he breathes, turning around to drag me through the crowd.

I’m practically bouncing like an energizer bunny when we pass my best friend dancing with a random man. They watch us curiously and I shrug, trying not to trip on my own two feet as Joe swiftly leads us into the hall towards the bathroom. 

He forcefully pushes the girls' bathroom door open, making it slam into the wall. “Everybody get the fuck out,” he demands of the women standing at the mirror. 

They all scowl, but ultimately tuck their makeup back into their purses and scurry out of the room. As the bathroom empties out, he checks the stalls to make sure no one is still in there, then locks the main door. 

“You can’t just take away a girl's ability to pee for this,” I giggle as he stalks over to me.

“I can and I am,” he responds, not giving me time to respond again before his lips crush mine. 

His cold fingers trail up the inside of my thighs, sending shivers up my spine. A finger ghosts over my underwear and he puts pressure on my clit. “Fuck,” I moan into his mouth, and he bites my bottom lip. Suddenly, I remember this is the only girls' bathroom in the club and the guilt hits me. “Maybe we shouldn’t do this here.” 

Our lips disconnect, and he swiftly lifts me on the counter, smirking. “I’m going to have what’s mine before you walk back out those doors.”

He drops to his knees in between my legs, gripping the underside of my thighs, and pulls me towards the edge of the counter. 

I’m spread out perfectly for him, and his breath ghosts over my clothed pussy. “Relax, angel. I’m gonna take care of you,” he hushes.

He stands, pushing my shoulders back so my upper body is vulnerable to him. He slowly unbuttons my shirt before diving in; kissing my chest and pulling my nipple into his mouth. He uses his tongue to swirl around my nipple, nipping at it slightly. I squirm and his grip around my waist tightens. His kisses slowly start trailing lower and lower, my anticipation increasing with each one. 

“Shit, Joey,” I whine, feeling his kisses finally reach the bottom of my stomach. He bunches up my skirt, hooking my panties around his fingers and pulling them down. 

I moan as he trails to the inside of my thighs at an agonizingly slow pace. “You like it, angel? Making me mad?” Joe looks up at me, his lips leaving sparks in his wake. He grips my legs again, bringing me out of my haze. 

“Fuck yes. Please, Joey.” I squirm under his grip.

He resumes kissing the inside of my thighs. “Please what, Angel? Use your words.” He hovers over my pussy, blowing hot air onto my clit, sending shivers through my body. Oh my god.

I’m so close to crying at the teasing that I cover my face with my hands. “Please eat me out,” I whisper, so low that I barely hear myself. I’ve never been so embarrassed in my life.

Joe grabs my hands, removing them from my face, threading them through his hair. I look at him, shocked. “You will look at me when I devour you, angel,” he orders. Then his hands return to the underside of my thighs, hooking my legs around his neck. 

He takes two fingers, rubbing circles on my clit, spreading my wetness around. “Already so fucking ready for me, angel.” His fingers disappear, and I gasp when I feel him lick a long strip from my opening to my clit. “Fuck, you taste so good,” he groans into my pussy.

Finally, he wraps his lips around my clit, sucking as he pushes two fingers inside me. His fingers curl, hitting that spot that makes me see stars. I grind onto them as he pumps them in and out of me. “Joey,” I groan into the empty void of the night.

His pace doesn’t relent as I arch my back, taking his fingers deeper. “That’s it, angel. Take what you need from me, sweet girl,” he coaxes, hovering over my pussy and looking up at me with lustful eyes. I feel him spit on my pussy, letting the wetness drip down to his fingers as he quickens his pace. 

The pleasure builds in my core, and I feel my whole body tightening as he brings me closer and closer to an orgasm. My legs start shaking and my fingers tangle in his hair, pushing his head down to grind against his tongue.

He moans and curls his fingers at the same time, and that tips me over the edge. My toes curl, and I see white as I let a loud cry leave my lips. I grip his hair so hard, I’m scared I’m going to pull it out. He doesn’t remove his fingers, continuing to slowly work me through my orgasm until I float back down to earth. 

I moan as he slowly retracts his fingers from my pussy. “Fuck, Joey,” I hiss, slightly sitting up to look down at his face. 

His smug smile appears as he brings his fingers up to his lips, sucking off my juices. “You taste so fucking sweet,” He sits up for a second, and lightly pushes my shoulder, making me fall back onto the mirror.

Lifting my legs again, he moves them so my thighs rest over his shoulders. His fingers return to my pussy, spreading my release around. “Again,” he demands, pushing three fingers into me this time with no warning. 

Groaning, my fingers lace into his hair again. My eyes roll into the back of my head at the sensation of his quick tongue flicking over my swollen and overstimulated bud.  “Joey, I can’t.” I shake my head. “I don’t think I can come again,” I plead, hoping he’ll release his grip on me.

His fingers increase their pace, in and out of me, curling to hit that spongy spot again. “Yes, you can. And you will,” he orders, returning his lips to my pussy and sucking my clit. 

I hear the squelching sound of his fingers fucking me, and my back arches off the mirror. The pleasure builds in my stomach for the second time, and I bite my lip to keep from screaming. 

Joey lifts his lips from my pussy for a moment, not slowing the pace of his fingers. “Come for me, angel. I can feel you squeezing my fingers. Fuck. I got you, I promise,” he whispers, then dives back in, lapping me up like I’m his last meal.

My second orgasm hits me like a truck as my vision goes blurry. My body feels like it’s floating off this planet and into a different space-time continuum. I hear him moaning into my pussy underneath me, and I grip his shoulder as he slows the pace of his thrusting. After I come back down to earth, he retracts his fingers again, licking another long strip up my pussy to gather my release on his tongue. He slowly rises from the ground, and I sit up, gripping for his body. Leaning down, he kisses me, and I can taste myself on his tongue. 

Wanting to return the favor, I reach for his belt buckle. But he grips my wrist, stopping me. “You better bend over and lift that skirt,” he growls.

I become giddy again, the guilt of occupying the bathroom dissipating. Quickly turning, I bend over the counter and pull up my skirt so he has a perfect view of my ass. 

“Fuck,” he groans, and I yip when his hand connects with my skin in a spank. My eyes watch as he pulls his zipper down, fumbling over himself. He’s absolutely enamored and practically drooling in the mirror when he takes his dick out.

His hand lets go of his dick and puts it under my lips. “Spit, angel,” he demands. 

Letting the spit dribble from my lips into his hand, I close my eyes and wait.

He rubs his tip through my fold and I bite my lips to keep a groan from slipping my lips. “Open your eyes and watch if you want me to keep going,” he rasps, and my eyes snap open. 

My jaw drops, and my breathing becomes erratic as he forcefully sinks into me. He pulls out slowly, before grabbing the bottom of his jersey and pulling it up so I can see his perfectly chiseled chest. Fuck. 

“You’re going to want to hold on to something, angel.” 

A smirk takes from his face as he puts the shirt in between his teeth to keep it up. Then, he roughly slams back into me, filling me to the brim and finding his rhythm. Immediately, his pace is relentless, and I grip the edge of the counter to keep from screaming. Damn. He wasn’t kidding when he said he would make this quick. 

My legs begin to shake as he drags his cock over my g-spot in the most delicious way. Incoherent babbles begin leaving my lips and his speed increases. 

“Show me whose dick you want, angel. Show me who you want to fuck you stupid,” he snarls, and I feel like I'm drowning in pleasure. My back arches, allowing him to get deeper, and my mouth opens in a silent moan. His roughness brings tears to my eyes, but I’ve never felt better.

A strained groan leaves my lips as he grabs my hips tighter and starts pulling me back until my ass slams into his hips as he drives into me. Not wanting him to do all the work, I begin moving my hips at the same pace as him. “That’s it. Show me what you can do,” he husks. 

My eyes roll into the back of my head when his tip kisses my cervix, and the sound of our skin slapping fills the room. 

Suddenly, someone begins pounding on the door and I gasp. Joe seemingly hears them too and increases his speed. I watch him in the mirror as his hands wrap around my curls, creating a makeshift ponytail. 

Another bang on the door rings through the bathroom, and he pulls my head back by my hair, slamming into me. “You better fucking cum, angel. Someone has to use the restroom,” he thunders in my ear.

My breathing becomes erratic, and I start to clench around him as he brings a thumb up to my lips. He sinks it into my mouth, collecting spit on his thumb, before slowly sinking it into my tight hole. My mouth falls open and I scream at the pressure. Oh my fucking god. 

The sound of my voice reverberates off the wall, but he doesn’t even flinch; just bites my shoulder, groaning as he works his thumb in and out of me. “Give it to me, angel. Give me what he can't give you,” he encourages. 

With his words and the feeling of his thumb and his cock driving into me, I topple over the edge. My knees buckle, and I swear I see a constellation of stars. My whole body quakes with fire as Joe fucks me through my orgasm, and his dark eyes meet mine in the mirror. He smiles at me unraveling for him.

Continuing to stroke me, he fills me up every time until I feel him twitching inside me. “Your turn,” I huff, smirking at him in the mirror. 

He shakes his head before his pace becomes unsteady. Thrusting into me one last time, he buries into me to the hilt, and I moan at the feeling of his hot ropes shooting inside me as he swirls his hips to brush over my g-spot. “You’re milking me so good, angel. God, you’re so good. I don’t deserve you,” he slurs, slowly pulling his thumb out. We take a second to catch our breaths, both of us panting and coming down. 

The sound of banging on the door brings me back to the present. “No. You don’t deserve me,” I giggle, and he slowly pulls his softening cock out of me. 

He stuffs his cock back into his underwear before pulling his jeans up and zipping his fly. Then, his attention turns to me. He readjusts my underwear, pulling my skirt back down over my ass. “You’re gonna walk around all night with my cum dripping out of you. I don’t know how I’m going to be able to control myself,” he mutters. 

I try my best to fix myself, looking in the mirror to adjust anything out of place. When I turn to face him, he’s already standing by the door, waiting to unlock it. 

“No more of that jealousy shit. Keep it in your pants until we get home. Okay?” I scold, pointing at his face.

The beginning of a smirk starts to form on his face as he unlocks the door and pulls it open. The noise of the club fills my ears again, and he puts his hands on the small of my back, pushing me out of the bathroom and into the hallway. 

Turning my head to the left, there are about 20 girls in line for the bathroom. “Finally,” they groan before filing in.

When I look at Joe, his signature smirk is covering the entirety of his face. My eyes narrow at him, daring him to protest my orders. “Scouts honor,” he promises, ushering me up to the VIP section.

any feedback is good feedback

horny thoughts? okay, biting jacques. that’s it.

thank u bestie this is SO on brand for us. resident villeneuve fuckers. this bleach blonde bastard switch Absolutely has a biting kink and i WILL elaborate

damon hill's book is just "jacques was an ambitious little shit who liked to push the limit" and i cannot be convinced it was not the same Outside of racing

ik you said biting jacques but dear g-d this man bites as well. lots of marks anywhere he can put them, getting as close as possible to where he knows your shirt collar sits

and, well, if one pokes out above your collar then he just looks pleased with himself. asshole!!

however. he makes the Prettiest noises when you bite him

tilts his head back, tendons straining under that muscular neck

gasps when you dig your teeth in and whines when you run your tongue over the mark

mr "told off for bringing down the image of the sport" does not Care where you leave marks on HIM. he'll show them off!!

it's harder for you to bite him during a position like missionary

(that's when he tends to bite you, pressing his mouth to the junction between shoulder and neck as he hoists your legs higher up his waist to fuck into you Deeper)

(you do the same to him when you fuck him, whether that's with a strap or cock, so fair is fair. you probably made him cum untouched like that once by biting his nipple as you fucked him)

but when you're riding him? oh Yes

make him sit up so you're chest to chest, tangle your fingers in that bleached hair, and Pull as u bite his neck

honestly just make this man whimper. make him Fall Apart. he's such a smug little shit who probably looks at you like he's had a religious experience once you take him down a notch