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somejazzinthemorning · 8 months

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playing cupid.

Carlos Sainz x Reader [Warnings: Mentions of sex and some curse words. There are some inaccuracies, such as in this short story, Carlos has an apartment in Milan] Word Count: 9.7K

You're in this situationship with Carlos Sainz—no fuss, no drama, just sex. But then your dads become friends, and Sainz Sr., with a soft spot for you, decides to introduce you to his son, whom you've been... acquainted with for a while. To make things more interesting, he's on a mission to play Cupid, all while Carlos enjoys the thrill of keeping your little secret, playing along with his dad.

this was a request! always feel free to request and if i have some free time, I'll try to write something 🫶🏼

“Apparently, our dads met”, you say, rolling off Carlos's lap, still flushed and your breath ragged. The soft bed cushions your fall as you curl up beneath the deep blue blanket that usually adorns the foot of Carlos's bed, but this time is just part of the mess.

Carlos studies you with a faint frown, tousled hair spilling over his forehead. He looks incredibly handsome, basking in the afterglow of your encounter. If it weren’t for the late hour and your impending early morning, you would consider straddling him again. However, it’s nearly 2 a.m. and you need to be at the atelier by 9, so you just wish to sleep.

“Really?” There’s an undertone you don’t quite understand.

“What?”

"You just killed the mood.” He lays back on the bed and turns to face you. His hands seek out your shoulder, and his nimble fingers begin tracing delicate patterns on your skin, a clear indication that he’s not ready to let the night end just yet. “Mentioning my dad right after I cum inside you? Not exactly what I expect.”

“I just remembered it, and now I know you’ll get your hands off of me and let me sleep.”

“Oh, that’s not what I was expecting, as well.”

You pout, mocking him. “Poor you,” he rolls his eyes and falls dramatically against his pillow. “I’m just expecting a good night of sleep because some of us have work to do during the week and not just on weekends.” He cocks an eyebrow at you. “Oh, I’m sorry. I know that sometimes you work during the week.”

Carlos opens his mouth to retort, but he doesn't get a chance to finish his sentence. In an instant, he sits up, looming over you, and seizes both your wrists, pinning them against the headboard. With his other hand, he's ready to tug the blanket over your form.

"Don't you dare tickle me, Carlos Sainz. Or I swear to God—"

"What are you going to do?" Carlos interrupts, his mischievous grin returning. As you lock eyes with him, you realize there's very little you can do, and oddly enough, you're entirely fine with that. Except,

"Spit in your face."

His playful smirk remains as he leans in closer, his voice a sultry whisper. "Spit in my face, huh?” he taunts, his fingers inching closer to your sides. “Think I’m going to risk it.”

"Sainz,” you squirm under his touch, desperately trying to maintain your composure. But he’s already grinning, and his fingers are approaching your sides. “I'm warning you..."

And suddenly, it's too late. He pounces, his fingers dancing across your sides, and you burst into fits of uncontrollable laughter, some of them louder than you expected them to be. Carlos knows all your ticklish spots, and he exploits them shamelessly. It’s been what…? Four months since you first slept together. By now he knows your body better than any guy ever did. And honestly, you’re not sure what to feel about that.

"Carlos, stop!" you manage to gasp between laughter, trying to wriggle free from his grip. It's a futile effort as he continues his relentless assault, determined to elicit every giggle and squeal he can from you.

Finally, he relents, his laughter joining yours as he releases your wrists. You pant for breath, your cheeks flushed from both the laughter and the earlier efforts. You take the opportunity to jump out of bed. “You’re the worst. I gotta pee.”

You disappear into the bathroom, to pee, clean yourself and try to comb your hair, and by the time you go back to the bedroom, you’re expecting him to be asleep. But you find him awake. His eyes shine brighter when you go through the door, and he watches you with a tender smile as you enter the bed and curl against him, fitting perfectly into his embrace.

The warmth of his body against you is comforting.

"I think I'll let you sleep now," he voices low in your ear, as he pulls over the comforter and covers you both.

"You better.”

Carlos's chest rises and falls rhythmically beneath your cheek as you nestle closer. You can hear the faint hum of his heartbeat, and it lulls you into a peaceful state. He smells like Bleu de Chanel and the lingering traces of your passion. With every breath, you inhale the essence of the man who has woven himself into the fabric of your life, in more ways than one.

Just as you're about to close your eyes and drift off to sleep, it hits you like lightning—the visit your mom mentioned, the whole reason you brought up his dad’s name.

You nudge Carlos gently, rousing him from his half-asleep state. "Just remembered something."

Carlos doesn’t even open his eyes. "Hmm?”

“My dad invited yours over,” you were not sure if you should be excited or nervous. Not for the visit itself, but for Carlos’ reaction to the idea of you meeting his dad.

After all, you had just been sleeping together, barely leaving your apartments, except for that one time he took you out to dinner, and that was probably because it was your birthday and perhaps Carlos would feel bad about just booty-calling you and ignoring the whole birthday thing.

“Well, that’s a nice way to introduce you to him.”

“What?”

Carlos just pressed you closer to him, like you weren’t practically glued together already. "It's okay, cariño. They’ll love you. Now sleep."

It all started at Milan Fashion Week when Carlos was representing Ferrari at an event. You were there, lurking in the shadows, taking in the magic of the fashion show. Your mentor had gotten you there, a favour you'll always be grateful for. There's a lot you can't remember about the event, about the whole night to be fair, but you remember the man awkwardly sitting in the front row. Fashion is not his thing, you thought. You kind of knew that. You kind of knew him.

He drives for Ferrari, he's handsome, he has a thick Spanish accent and hair I would pay to touch.

And that was more than enough to make you introduce yourself at the end of the show. From there, making out in a club took a little more than two hours. To his bed, just a little bit more than that.

You continued to see each other, booty-calling each other when you were feeling horny, bored, or just lonely. Your situationship was a good deal for both parties. No strings attached, which you enjoyed because you had little time and no patience to make any kind of effort to actually maintain a relationship. And Carlos, well... he was also busy as hell, so... all good. So you never went on dates, never needed to put on expectable amounts of makeup for over-the-top dresses. Except for your birthday, when he decided to take you out, and you had to make the effort. But that was your birthday.

Other than that, you would only leave your apartments to go get food at a 24-hour store or McDonald's. You remember that one time you wanted gelato and Carlos took you to his favourite place in Milan, but... other than that, it was just sex. Okay, just sex and marathons of Game of Thrones and House of The Dragon (that led to more sex) and some cooking too. You once taught him how to make your nana's lasagna and how a true Italian bruschetta is done. And a few days later, he cooked you his mom's carbonara—not a real carbonara, not at all. And, let’s be fair, he often brought you pizza from your favourite place in Milano and expensive bottles of wine.

But… “That’s a nice way to introduce you to him”?

You were not expecting that at all.

The idea lingered in your mind all night, and you woke up thinking about it too. You left his apartment while Carlos was still in the shower, just shouting goodbyes while you gathered your stuff and ran to the atelier. He would be out of town for a couple of weeks, away at some races, and you would have time to figure out how your parents met and when said visit was going to happen. All good.

Turns out you didn't have as much time as you thought.

That afternoon, your mom calls you, excitedly recounting their amazing trip to Canada and how much fun your dad had at the race. So, that was where they met. She also shares her plans about taking your brothers to Monza in a couple of months. You nod absentmindedly, your attention more focused on the magazine in front of you than on her words. It's often like this.

Your dad travels for work and actually works. He's a sports manager, deeply passionate about football and motorsports, especially Formula 1. Lately, he's been leaning more towards the latter, especially since he's contemplating retirement. On the other hand, your mom, an ex-model who married a well-off man, has chosen to focus on being a wife and a mother, a role she fulfils with dedication. So, when they’re back home, dad has work to do, contacts to keep and your mom has… well, more than enough time to tell you everything.

"And your dad and Sainz met at the golf course, you know?" your mom continues, her voice full of admiration. "A charming young man. He was golfing with his dad too. Your father had to tell them you refused to join him on the greens."

"In that, he's absolutely right."

"So, they kept talking. They even played together, I think. And he mentioned we were going to the race, and Sainz suggested he could call, and he'd arrange a garage tour. We met him at the paddock, but we ended up not getting the tour because there were already enough guests in there, but… Isn't he just amazing? And so incredibly handsome, piccina. So handsome."

You cringe inwardly at your mom's thirst for Carlos, unable to shake the image of her ogling your... friend. But you hum in response, unable to voice your discomfort because the next moment, she's raving about a dress she bought for you and the amazing designer she met in New York just before returning to Milan, and that topic steals all attention.

But just before she’s about to hang out, you remember why she called you in the first place.

“Mom, about the visit you mentioned? The dinner?” you interject and she chuckles; you can almost envision her rubbing her temples.

"Oh, silly me. I actually called you to discuss that," she sighs. "He's coming to visit us this weekend! You have to come home and meet him; he's really looking forward to getting to know you."

"Doesn't he race this weekend?"

"The young—Since when do you care about F1?"

"I don't. I just—” You quickly think of something, but you’re not quite sure if you want to tell your mother that you’ve been fucking Sainz. The younger one. Of course. “I saw something on Twitter."

"Oh, I see. Well,” she clicks her tongue. “It's his dad who's coming. Weren’t you listening? And his mom. We invited them both. Your dad wants to take him to the club and network a bit and you know… I’m always down for making friends and Reyes seems like a lovely woman. She wasn’t there, but I’ve heard about her around. Even her name is super elegant. Isn’t it?” Once again, you hum, frowning, thinking about the movie where you just found yourself in. “So, please, come home.”

“Noted. So, this weekend?”

“Yes. Do you need Dad to pick you up tomorrow after work?”

You move in your seat. “I’m just so busy with work right now, mom. The new collection and—” She cleans her throat and you just nod to the empty room. “Okay. Yes, please, tell Dad to pick me up.”

Of course, the second you hang up you text Carlos. He’s probably busy, it’s Thursday so he’s doing interviews or something, and, as you expected, he doesn’t reply to your text right away. Despite everything, he doesn’t take too long.

Not surprisingly, he’s very nonchalant about it all.

hot wheels guy: just tell them we know each other, no big deal hot wheels guy: and we’ll tell them more when i’m back

But, yeah… You can’t help but frown looking at the phone. He’s golfed with your dad, met your mom, met again with your dad and he’s not even feeling weird about it all?

you: hm? no? hot wheels guy: why not? you: you went golfing with my dad!!! hot wheels guy: and? hot wheels guy: how would i guess he was your dad? you: how many Y/LN do you think there are in milan? you: he told you he’s from milan!! there are not a lot of us in here hot wheels guy: do you have any idea of how many people i meet every weekend? you: 🙄 hot wheels guy: stop being a brat you: 🙄 hot wheels guy: i don’t see a problem in golfing with your dad hot wheels guy: is that supposed to be weird? you: YES !!!! hot wheels guy: stop being dramatic hot wheels guy: if they say anything, tell them you know me hot wheels guy: if they don’t, don’t you: they will hot wheels guy: so you know what to do

Friday’s dinner went exceptionally well, with conversations flowing effortlessly between food and wine, despite the inevitable sports-centric discussions that seemed to dominate the evening. Your brothers were beyond ecstatic to have Carlos Sr. as a guest in their home. They'd had their fair share of famous athletes sitting at the family table, but never had they been as excited as they were when Carlos Sr. entered the house. As a result, you found yourself somewhat on the sidelines, listening more than speaking throughout the meal.

And you were grateful for that.

The same didn’t happen on Saturday. Your dad took the morning to showcase some of your work and discuss your future prospects in the fashion industry with both Carlos and Reyes. In what you think was a gesture of gratefulness, Reyes displayed a lot of interest in your little atelier, located by the pool, in what used to be a shed for the gardener. So, you spent the morning around there, talking with them about fashion and business, and then joined them for lunch in one of your dad’s favourite restaurants.

Let's be fair, you have an extraordinary way with words and a charm that makes your mother proud. It was easy for you. By the time dinner came, you were already adored by the Sainzes. Without making an effort, you found yourself talking about art and travel, and letting Sainz Sr. explain to you the magic and the challenges of Dakar.

However, it isn’t until the next morning that you find yourself alone with him.

You both sat down for breakfast on the patio, and he’s now engrossed in reading the newspaper, while you’re drinking your cappuccino and doing your best to ignore the fact that the man sitting in front of you is, in essence, your… fuckbuddy’s dad.

There’s the usual “good morning” and the “hope you got some rest”, to which the guest always has some lovely comment to say about the bed, or the room, or the house in general. It’s an amazing guest house, you have to admit. And Sainz is no expectation. You exchange a couple of pleasantries and he’s back at reading the news, so you let your guard down.

Then, unexpectedly, Carlos Sr. turns his attention from the newspaper and directs it squarely at you. Grey eyebrows lifting at the same pace his eyes fill with a weird glint.

“I would love to introduce you to my son,” he says, and a faint frown tugs at your lips as words form in your throat, only to wither away unspoken. "I'm not implying anything," he says with a hint of amusement in his voice, "just that I believe the two of you would get along well."

You respond hesitantly, "Oh, I know him."

"I know you know him," he laughs, and you realise that something might have gotten lost in translation because when he talks again he says, "But what I mean is that you should meet. I'll make sure to introduce you two next time we're all in town."

And well, you feel too embarrassed to correct him, so you just smile and mumble an “I can’t wait. Excuse me”, before getting up from the table and sprinting up to your room.

you: great news. your dad wants to introduce us you: what do i do?

He takes a couple of hours to text back.

hot wheels guy: why didn’t you tell him you know me already? you: i tried to!

The next time you’re all in town happens one week and a half from there, when Carlos is finally back in Italy after a few races and a couple of days in Madrid. And, because the universe is a pain in the ass, you’re swarmed with work to the point you’ve been falling asleep right after dinner, even before the time Carlos usually rings you up.

It’s a terrible schedule.

You’ve been waking up at 5 am to be by the seamstress at 7, to have some work ready to show at 9 am, between your mentor’s arrival at the atelier and the time he leaves for some meeting or brunch with models somewhere in Milan. Somehow, during that interval, he has time to break your work to pieces, destroying it (and destroying you in the process) with criticism. Critique leaves you on the verge of tears, and by the end of the day, you’re a mess—stressed, irritable and utterly exhausted. Not to mention the ever-present sexual frustration, with vivid dreams of a certain Spaniard leaving you hot and bothered in your sleep.

The perfect recipe for a restless night.

Apparently, Carlos got to Milan on Wednesday, because that night you woke up at midnight on your couch, a half-empty glass of wine by your side, your unfinished sketches scattered before you and three missed calls from Carlos, accompanied by a series of texts. Thursday, the same happened. The texts were nothing too dramatic, just variations of “u up?”, “cmon its 10 pm”, and “you can’t be asleep”.

On both days, in your half-sleep haze, you manage to reply as you shuffle your way to your bedroom something similar to “sory, talktomorrw”.

And then Friday arrives, and your calendar pings with the reminder that in one hour your dad will be picking you up for dinner. You’re sitting on your vanity and already dreading the day your dad decided to go to Montreal.

You’re not feeling it.

Firstly, you have to slather on a ton of make-up just to feel decent. Your dark circles are as pronounced as ever, you’re skin is pale and your acne is acting up, probably all due to the lack of sun, sleep, rest of any food that isn’t reheated pizza or store-bought noodles.

So, yes, the prospect of dinner and being introduced as Carlos’ whatever doesn’t exactly lift your spirits.

The anticipation gawns at you as you finish getting ready. You can’t shake the feeling of unease, a nagging doubt that you’re about to step into a situation that might be more than you signed up for. Carlos’ dad seems nice enough, and his mom absolutely adores you, but this is different, especially because his dad is expecting to introduce you and well… you’re way past that.

As you stare at your reflection, you take a deep breath and remind yourself that this isn't just about you. Your brothers are looking forward to meeting Carlos, and your dad seems genuinely excited about his friendship with his dad. So, you summon a smile, albeit a forced one, and decide to make the most of this evening, even if you're not entirely sure what to expect.

Yeah. Scratch that. The dinner is about you.

As you approach the restaurant, a different sense of anticipation washes over you. It feels like a scene from a movie where you're about to meet an arranged husband. The Sainz family stands by the door, engaged in lively conversation. Reyes waves at you when she sees you making your way to them.

Your eyes naturally gravitate toward Carlos. Firstly, because you kind of miss him. It’s been a while since you last saw him and there’s no point in looking for comfort somewhere else, so you are, let's say… slightly needy. And secondly, because he’s clad in a baby blue button-up and pristine white pants. A vision. You're only human, after all, with eyes and perhaps a few too many hormones.

In summary: You’re fucked. Dinner will be fun.

From your back and close to your ear, a whisper arises. “Be nice,” your mom says. As you turn to her, her lips are curling into a wide smile. “Carlos! Reyes! Such a delight to see you both again. And, Carlos,” she turns to the younger one, “it’s an absolute pleasure to finally see you in a more personal environment.”

You take a deep breath.

Your brothers, bursting with energy, practically race each other to get to Carlos, almost taking you down in the process. He skillfully engages them in conversation, a grin playing on his lips, until your mom intervenes.

"Now, now, boys. You'll have plenty of time to chat," she chuckles. Your mom swiftly moves your overeager brothers and offers an apologetic smile to Carlos. "Apologies, they're just excited.”

“No problem,” he says, in Italian, something he doesn’t do often when he’s alone with you. He claims he still needs to learn dirty talk in Italian. You love to teach him by whispering it into his ear. More than that, you love watching his face as he slowly grasps their meaning.

Your dad, then, approaches him for a way-too-manly handshake, but a warm smile reigns on his lips. “Carlos, great to see you again.”

“Thank you, sir. Likewise.”

In the meantime, you went to Reyes. She graced you with a compliment, a kiss on the cheek and the promise to visit your atelier in the near future. Then, it’s time for her husband, and you’re already wearing your best smile because that man is beaming as he’s watching you.

“My dear,” after two kisses on the cheeks, he slightly turns to Carlos. “So nice to see you again. Son,” he calls, and Carlos turns to you, his smile radiant, his eyes sparkling under the warm, ambient lights of the restaurant. “Let me introduce you to Y/N.”

"You're even more beautiful than my mom described," he remarks, his words catching you off guard. You manage to suppress the urge to roll your eyes, opting instead for a faint smile. “My dad has shared so much about you. Couldn’t wait to meet you.”

A surge of mixed emotions washes over you. On one hand, there's a twinge of frustration that he didn't tell his family about your connection, correcting your mistake and saving you from embarrassment. Yet, as his adoring gaze meets yours, it's hard not to be swept away by his warm compliments.

“Oh,” you murmur, feeling something shift inside you. Your own words surprise you, leaving you momentarily at a loss. "Thank you. Likewise."

Unknown to you, you echo almost exactly what Carlos had just said to your dad. The similarity draws a chuckle from Senior, who seems to find the exchange quite entertaining. Carlos chuckles as well and motions to the restaurant with his head.

“Should we?”

As the evening progresses, you can't help but steal glances at Carlos when you think no one is looking. You catch his eye occasionally, and he responds with subtle winks and sly smirks that send shivers down your spine. It's almost like a secret language only the two of you understand. He’s sitting in front of you, of course.

“Piccina,” your mom calls. “Why don’t you tell Carlos about your job?”

With a smile, you turned to face Carlos. He raises his eyebrows in curiosity, and you have to take a second before answering. He’s no stranger to your job. Not at all. Sometimes he even lands a helping hand, providing some foot massages while you’re working through tight deadlines and he doesn’t take “no” for an answer when he asks if he can come over.

So you simply say, “I’m a fashion designer.”

“Oh,” it’s the polite oh, not the filled-with-curiosity one. You know he’s about to say something stupid when his tongue peeks through his lips and the corner of his lips starts raising, moulding his mouth in a smirk. “So you just play dress-up for a living?”

Laughter bubbled up from one of your brothers, earning him a scolding look from your mom. They’re just nine, which makes them fifteen years younger than you. Fondly referred to as "an accident" by your parents, they were the light of your life, even if they were quite the whirlwind.

“And you, Carlos, you just play with cars on the weekends?” Carlos's eyes gleamed with mischief as he looked down, a chuckle escaping him. Sr. Carlos wore a pleased smile, and a delightful warmth settled in your belly.

"Some might find it hard to believe, but we do manage to squeeze in some actual work during the week," Carlos chimed in, earning a laugh from you. "Have you ever been to a race?”

“No, and I don’t intend to.”

"The boys are the true racing enthusiasts,” your dad chimes in. “The girls prefer to stay at home, or walk around when we travel for a Grand Prix.”

Turning to you, Carlos's eyes danced with mischief. You remembered a previous conversation where he'd tried to persuade you to attend the Italian Grand Prix, just a few weeks away. Wanting to stop him, because he’s so predictable that you just know what he’s about to say, you try to change the subject.

“Talking about races, are you playing on doing Dakar again next year, Signore?”

Carlos dismisses your question right away. "I think your perspective might change once you experience a Grand Prix firsthand.”

And this time, Carlos Sr. joins him. "Why not extend an invitation for them to visit the garage? I'm sure the kids will love the opportunity. And, Y/N, I’m sure you’ll find it all exciting. You seem like a curious girl.”

Carlos beamed. "Consider this an invitation. I can't wait to have you all there.”

Your brothers practically have a collective stroke, their young minds struggling to process the idea of visiting Carlos in the garage. As for your dad, despite his time in the paddock, had never had the chance to visit the Ferrari garage, so, despite keeping his composure, you know how much it means to him—he’s undeniably the most fervent tifoso you'd ever known.

With a grateful smile, you spoke up. "That's incredibly kind of you. Thank you.”

Carlos leans comfortably against his Alfa Romeo parked in easy reach of your dad’s Audi. Your brothers are sleeping in the back seat, while your parents conclude their chat. They’re getting along well, which is weird but comforting to some degree.

You shoot Carlos a serious glance. “How much longer are you going to keep up with this little thing you started?”

“Me? May I remind you that you were the one who didn’t tell him we met?” You roll your eyes at his words and grab the door knob. “Wait. Don’t you see he’s trying to set us up?”

“And?”

“Play along. Let him have it.”

There's a moment of silent understanding, the shared secret between you adding an extra layer of intimacy. Despite it all, you crack a smile.

“You’re so childish.” You say. “You’ll be the one who’s gonna tell him.”

“I’ll tackle that when we get there,” Carlos assures. And slowly, a playful glint shines in his eyes. “Should I swing by your place on my way home?”

“No way. I have work tomorrow, a lot of work to do and I can’t afford to be tired to do it.”

He tilts his head thoughtfully. “You can stay at mine, then. And I could drive you to work. It’ll give you an extra thirty minutes of sleep.”

You chuckle, impressed by his attention to detail. “You don’t even know where I work.”

“Of course, I do,” he assures.

That’s new. “Well,” you take a deep breath and discreetly hand him over your apartment keys. “I won’t ring the bell because the old lady on my floor will listen and I think she’s spying on me. I’ll call when I’m there.”

As you're about to bid him goodnight, your dad's voice calls out from a distance, catching Carlos's attention. He waves warmly and flashes a friendly smile, which Carlos mimics.

“Golf on Sunday?” your dad asks.

Carlos's eyes light up with enthusiasm. “Absolutely! Can't wait!”

You can't help but interject, “Golfing with my dad, again? What the heck are you doing?”

Carlos grins. “Finding a golfing partner, since someone here,” he gestures playfully at you, “refuses to join me. And unfortunately, my dad isn't always around in Italy to tag along.”

You roll your eyes in mock exasperation. “Alright, Sainz. Nice to meet you. See you soon.”

He drives you to work and to your surprise, he actually knows where that is. How? You can’t tell. Apparently, he also remembers that you bring breakfast for your mentor on Saturdays because just before he drops you off, he offers to join you for a few minutes, just to pick up breakfast with you.

“Since you’ve got no time to eat with me, I’ll just tag along and annoy you for ten minutes more.”

You let him enter the coffee shop with you and he hovers on your back while you order two moccas and two brownies to go with it. Your mentor is not picky, and this Saturday breakfast tradition only started because you wanted to thank him for granting you a few hours from his weekend to help you with your designs. Technically, it’s not work, but it’s just as demanding.

You can feel Carlos’ breath against your hair, and the faint smell of his cologne, still hanging in his shirt from the previous night. This morning, the buttons are undone, and the sleeves are folded up. His hair is tousled and his beard is imperfect. Yet he’s the most handsome man around.

“First time picking up breakfast together,” he says as you’re walking towards the door. “Is this the equivalent to marriage in your dictionary?”

“Don’t make me regret all the past decisions I’ve made.”

“Hm,” he hums, tilting his head. “What could I possibly make you regret?”

“Simply the fact of accepting to be introduced to you,” You let an exaggerated sigh leave your lips. “I’m living the nightmare all over again.”

Just before leaving a kiss on your cheek, he whispers. “Didn’t sound like a nightmare when I made you come thrice last night, baby. But go off.” He then kisses you on the cheek. “Have a good day.”

Carlos is too busy that night, and your Sunday is reserved for a family gathering. By Monday, you're back to your routine of nodding off right after dinner, so by the time Tuesday arrives, you’re already missing him. Not him—just his body in your bed, the sensation of his thick lips sliding down your navel and the sound of your name rolling off his tongue, wrapped up in that beautiful deep Spanish accent of his. You know he’s driving next weekend, so you spend all Wednesday staring at your phone, trying to summon a text from him.

When it finally pings, around 5 pm, it’s from your dad.

papà: heading to squash in an hour. up for a game? papà: no use in saying no papà: you already missed two weeks you: 🙄🙄🙄 you: i’ll meet you there!

You were the one who introduced your dad to squash, and gradually, it evolved into a bonding activity for both of you. Words don't flow easily with him, and you’re not great at demonstrating feelings so it’s difficult to connect with your dad. On top of that, you moved out really early. Slowly squash became a great way to connect and have quality time with him, release some steam, and stay in shape.

“I’m surprised. You never mentioned that you play squash,” a voice chimes in from behind, and you can't help but let out a sigh when you turn around.

It's Carlos, donned in a stupidly tight turquoise shirt that perfectly hugs and draws the contour of his chest, and sporting the briefest shorts you've ever seen him wear. He smiles. He knows he looks hot.

“How could I?” You reply, trying to not showcase how weak your knees just turned. “We only met like… five days ago.”

Carlos chuckles. “You’re funny. Did I tell you that yet?”

“Hmmm. You haven’t had the chance, yet.”

Sainz Sr. approaches you both, moving at a leisurely pace, absorbed in his phone. When he looks up, his frown disappears and an adoring smile takes his lips. His hand rests on his son’s shoulder as he remarks, “Didn’t I tell you today would be a perfect day for a match?”

Carlos turns to you, raising an eyebrow. "You did. What a coincidence.”

"Indeed," you chime in. "May I challenge you, sir? My dad’s still on a call and I have no partner."

“Oh, Carlos can join you,” he suggests with a nod in Carlos’ direction. “I’ll wait for your dad. We have some matters to discuss. Carry on, you two.”

Of. Course.

As the two of you step onto the squash court, the competitive glint in Carlos' eyes is hard to miss. And the tension in the air is palpable, you feel it in your bones. But you take a deep breath and push it aside, focusing on the game ahead.

"Why the sudden cold shoulder?" Carlos inquires as you prepare to start.

You glance at him, puzzled. "What are you talking about?"

"I'm getting radio silence from you��no calls, no texts. You're not picking up my calls, either. What’s going on?"

You roll your neck, trying to ease the tension. Yesterday you just collapsed onto your couch, once again. You were living in survival mode. And wouldn’t be there playing if it wasn't a long-standing tradition with your dad.

"Work's been keeping me busy," you shrug.

It's not entirely a lie. But it’s not totally true either.

Let’s see—you've been involved in this situationship for almost five months now, seeing each other sporadically, sometimes even daily, if Carlos is in Milan. Yet, it's all so casual. You can recall the day he mentioned introducing you to his parents, of course. As a matter of fact, that talk has been looping in your mind for the last few days, but… it was a joke. Right? Sure it was. Why would he want his parents to meet his... whatever?

You could have texted him earlier. You would have texted him a few weeks ago, before all this. You can’t quite figure out why you’re panicking and why you’re behaving like a rom-com character, but you are.

"Come on, that excuse won't stick with me."

“Too bad. Can we play?" You grip the racket, twirling it in your hands. You look back, at his dad sitting on the benches, watching you from afar. “Please?”

He lets out a sigh and nods. Finally, you think.

"Is this a date?" he asks, grabbing a ball from his shorts and meeting your gaze.

"No." You're firm, and once again, he frowns. "It's not. For one, you didn't invite me. We just happened to both be here. It's coincidental.” He laughs here, slightly tilting his head back. You both know it is not coincidental. “And two, that's not what we're doing."

He cracks a smile, almost teasing. "So, what are we not doing?"

"The dating thing. We're not dating."

"Aren't we?" He smirks, his tongue peeking out, licking his lips.

You shake your head. "Nope."

"Alright, cool. Just wanted to be clear on that," Carlos replies with a nonchalant shrug, though you detect a glimmer of amusement in his voice. He’s as annoying as he’s pretty.

The first serve is swift and precise. The sound of the ball hitting the wall reverberates through the court. You dive into the game, putting your all into each movement. It's a dance of strategy and agility. You’re exhausted, but you put on a fight, using banter as your weapon. On the outside, your parents are watching, and you can’t help but notice Sainz Sr. is thoroughly enjoying this.

Sweat starts to bead on your foreheads, but neither of you shows any sign of slowing down. He wants to win and well… you want to make him lose. As you play, you steal glances at Carlos, his concentration evident in the set of his jaw and the fire in his eyes, in the curse words he whispers under his breath, ones that frustration draws from him. You’ve heard them before. Oh, God, you’ve heard so much worse. But it all combined? This is a side of him you haven't seen before, and it's exhilarating.

After a particularly intense rally, Carlos manages to secure a point with a deftly placed shot. He smirks, clearly pleased with himself. "You're not making this easy," he remarks.

You grin, determined. "Wouldn't want to go easy on you, now, would I?"

The court echoes with the sound of sneakers squeaking against the floor and the thud of the ball hitting the walls. Time seems to blur as you lose yourself in the rhythm of the game. He makes you laugh and shout insults in his direction, to which he laughs.

Finally, after a hard-fought match, Carlos clinches the victory. It's a close call, and you’re about to pass out. It’s a shitty mixture of disappointment and pride. Leaning against the wall of the court, you try toth catch your breath.

"You're pretty good at this," Carlos admits, wiping the sweat from his brow with a towel.

"Yeah, well, I have to stay in shape to keep up with you," you quip.

He chuckles, "Am I that demanding?"

"Am I that demanding?" You repeat, forcing a Spanish accent and a deep voice. He chuckles and stands up straight. "Did your dad tell you to come here today?"

"Yes. For some reason, he really likes you. Like I told you he would."

You can't help but chuckle at Carlos's words. "Well, he’s certainly enjoying playing cupid. But hey, fun game.”

Carlos nods a genuine smile on his face. "Yeah, it was. Finally got to see you outside the flat. It's quite weird to see you with clothes at this point."

"Oh, God, you're such a prick."

He laughs, his eyes sparkling with amusement. "Can I drop by later today?"

You glance toward your parents, who are engaged in a lively conversation, and then back at Carlos.

"No. Early morning tomorrow. And I still have work to finish today.” You’re not lying to him, you’re lying to yourself. Even when he’s looking at you with puppy eyes, you don’t go back with your words. Instead, you stand up straight and fix your hair. “Should I expect to coincidently meet you somewhere else in the next few days?"

You know the answer to that question. You know he’s going to be away for two weekends. And you kinda know he knows you know, because when he answers, there’s the faintest smile on his lips.

"I'll be off for two weeks. Hungary and Belgium.”

"Good luck at those, then.”

“Really appreciate it.”

Yeah, so…. That night, Carlos texted you. Not a casual “u up?”, but a “it was so fucking unfair to see you in that skirt and not being able to fuck you in it” and naturally you couldn’t help but to let out an exasperated groan and promptly respond with a “come over.” So, twenty minutes later you were being screwed against your kitchen counter.

And now you’re on the couch, his head buried between your legs, eating you up like a starved man. Yes. You need to be fit to keep up with this man’s stamina. He’s that demanding. But you can’t complain.

It’s been like this. A lot of pleasure. And then a lot of peace of mind.

Afterwards, he reclines on the chaise lounge, scrolling through TV channels, looking for something remotely bearable. You go get your sketch notebook and use his torso as a pillow. He watches tv and you work, until sleep creeps over you and you fall asleep in his arms.

Five months of this. You can’t put a label on it, but you can’t imagine living without it.

Carlos only wakes you up to take you to bed, and that night he sleeps over, sprawled across your bed like a starfish, leaving you clinging to him to not fall over. In the morning, you make out in bed, lazy and sleepy. He fucks you in the shower, and then he’s off again. He texts you when he's at the airport, and once more when he lands in whichever country he's racing in. Meanwhile, you carry on with your everyday life—a bit more mundane than being fuckbuddies with a Scuderia Ferrari driver but just as busy.

As it became regular, you exchange a few texts while he's away. It's become a ritual—complimenting him on how handsome he looks after his sessions, and him requesting a selfie so he can return the favour. He sends you snapshots of random things that made him think of you, and if truth be told, you do the same. You share selfies as you stroll by the Ferrari store in Milan and send him memes (which sometimes require a brief explanation). Without fail, he sends you a good morning and a good night, and whenever you're awake, you make sure to reply.

And life happens for those two weeks.

It’s boring. It’s dull. It’s ordinary.

And then on a Monday evening your bell rings and you can’t help but leave your apartment and wait for him on the landing, right in front of the elevator, not caring if your neighbour is watching through the peephole.

“Missed me?” he quips, already unburdening himself of his backpack as he steps out of the elevator. Sunglasses perched atop his head, skin kissed by the sun, eyes wide like the moon. He’s the prettiest man you’ve ever seen.

“Never,” you jest, but it's a flimsy façade, quickly shattered as you pull him close, urgency coursing through you.

Damn, you've missed him. You crave him.

And he craves you too. He's straightforward in showing it.

After you both shower, you settle on the couch. You ask him about why he had two races that weekend and he teases you because you finally demonstrate an interest in F1, and only then, after you’re insulting him and threatening to not go to Monza, he actually explains to you how a sprint weekend works, but he’s being so nerdy and so adorable and his eyes are sparkling so much that you just get back in his lap and ride him again, but this time slower, and more passionate, like you’re feeling something materialise inside you. And you come on his lap, and he kisses you slowly, and you tell him you actually missed him.

For dinner, you agree on sushi and night falls while you’re watching The Office for the only-God knows-how-many time, curled up in each other and drinking wine.

Apparently, there’s a mandatory period of vacations in F1 and unfortunately, it doesn’t match your own. So, Carlos is away with friends and family, in boats and islands in the Mediterranean, and you’re torn between Roma, Venice and Milan, assisting in campaign photoshoots.

Your days are long, exhausting and you’re tired and wishing you could be suntanning somewhere in Greece, but you’re sitting on a train, pushing small talk with your colleagues so you won’t fall asleep and drool over yourself.

Until a notification pops up on your phone, and you drop everything you’re saying because there’s a small chance that is a photo from Carlos, or some text, or just a reminder of his existence. You mentally slap yourself. When did you get that dependent?

But it’s just an email. And it’s from your mom.

You frown.

She doesn’t usually use email. Nor is interested in art galleries in Madrid.

You read through the details and you notice something interesting. The invitation has been forwarded from none other than Carlos Sainz Sr. And it makes you laugh. You take a screenshot that you send to Carlos.

you: so, your dad's moonlighting as an art promoter now? did you fire him? hot wheels guy: seems like it. he said he was going to invite you hot wheels guy: and no, i didn’t fire him primarily because he doesn’t work for me you: well it actually does sound interesting hot wheels guy: so you’re coming? you: perhaps hot wheels guy: it’s a good chance for you to meet my sisters you: don’t you have like a dog for me to meet, too? hot wheels guy: two, piñon and oil hot wheels guy: oli is a really jealous girl. i doubt she will like you you: looking forward to meet them. and your sisters too, of course hot wheels guy: and about me? you: i already met you twice. don’t need another introdution

One week later, you’re in Madrid. Sainz Sr. arrives home while you’re talking with Reyes in the kitchen, while she cooks gazpacho for lunch. Oli is in your lap, licking your cheek as your fingers get lost in the small white waves of her fur.

“Hope you get here easily. Did you take an Uber?” Sainz says right after gracing you with a small hug and two polite kisses on the cheeks. Before paying, he also leaves a pat on Oli’s head.

“Carlos picked me up at the airport, actually.”

A pleased smile creeps across Sainz Sr.'s face, like a child in a candy shop. He glances over at Carlos, who's lounging on the couch, a few meters from you.

“She’s a guest.” He points out. You didn’t even realise he was listening to your conversation. You wonder if he was listening to what you and Reyes were saying before. “I wouldn’t have let her take an Uber.”

“You’re getting along well,” the dad points out. “Doesn’t surprise me.”

Between the art and the hushed corridors of the gallery, you often find yourselves alone. A stolen kiss in the quiet garden, where the fragrance of blooming flowers mingles with the electric charge between you. And then another, amidst the art, when the room empties and you’re left in the silence of creativity, where the only beauty that matters is reflected in the depths of his eyes.

He holds your hand and listens to your explanations about art and strokes and colour theory. And he calls you a nerd. Of course, he does. And you laugh and look at each other, and kiss again, not caring if there’s someone around.

When you come back home, his sisters and parents are still in the living room, so you sit with them, still wearing your cocktail dress and Carlos still looking gorgeous in his tuxedo. You picked up churros on your way home, so you’re just basking in the serenity and the domesticity of it all. Conversations flow effortlessly, laughter weaving through the air. You share stories, revealing snippets of your lives to his family, like they’re slowly becoming yours.

Ana. Blanca. Oli. Reyes. Carlos. And your Carlos, who looks at you with a warmth in his eyes that is capable of melting every cell of your body.

You can get used to this.

You only spend one night in Madrid. You sleep over at the Sainz’s—Reyes didn’t let you consider a hotel, so she prepared one of the guest rooms in advance. Surprisingly, it’s not the first time you and Carlos sleep under the same roof without having sex, but it’s the first time you do so in separate beds. And you feel restless. You lay in bed, your gaze fixed on the wall as if by sheer will, it will become transparent and grant you a view of him sleeping—the contours of his face softened in serenity, his lashes grazing his cheekbones.

According to Google, Autodromo Nazionale Monza is exactly 39 minutes away from your flat by car. Which isn’t a lot.

You’re not sure what to wear, or what’s exactly going to happen.

It’s Friday. It’s his birthday. He looks gorgeous in the photos that everyone is posting. You just need to get to the track, meet your parents and take your family to the garage. It’s as simple as that.

But you haven’t seen Carlos for more than a week, and the idea of finally seeing him is consuming you.

So you dump your worries in your wardrobe. You search for the few Ferrari pieces you have in your closet and you put out an outfit, and make-up and pretend you’re just going to an event you know nothing about. Because that’s almost the case.

Between the small crowd and the electric atmosphere and the midst of the symphony of roaring engines, you spot your parents and your brothers—their eyes wide with wonder. They’re donning Ferrari shirts and hats, each one with a different number on their clothes.

This blend of family and racing feels strangely comforting.

There’s a guy waiting for you by the entrance, with your passes. You follow him. He asks about the ride to the circuit, if it's your first time, and you can actually relieve some of the anticipation with that small talk. But you’re taking so long.

The corridor leading to the garages seems to stretch endlessly, each step an eternity.

"He's in the garage, preparing for the session. You'll have to be quick," the man informs you, but his words are mere background noise. All that matters is Carlos, and he's waiting. That's all you need.

Stepping into the garage, the noise amplifies. It's a chaotic dance of technicians and engineers, each absorbed in their tasks. You scan the frenetic scene, searching for him, but his absence is louder than the noise.

“Carlos must be arriving. Boys,” he drops to your brothers. “Want to see the car up close?”

Of course, they say yes, and they follow the man. Your dad tags along and your mother? Well, she’s apparently very interested in the sport, as well.

The first Sainz you see is Carlos’ cousin, to whom you’ve been not introduced yet, but who quickly recognizes you. You introduce yourself, and he chuckles and you say you’re “Carlos’ friend”. And then Sainz Sr. appears, with Carlos right beside him, talking to a tall skinny guy.

And God. He’s a vision in that damned racing suit.

Time seems to slow as he approaches, and when he turns to you, his eyes light up with a radiant smile. The world fades away.

“Happy birthday,” is all that occurs to you.

And a “thank you for being here,” is all that he can say before being dragged away to the screens.

This time it isn’t Reyes or Sainz Sr., but Carlos who invites your family for dinner. It's an offer you simply can't refuse, and even though your brothers are practically nodding off from fatigue, the moment they step inside the Hotel de la Ville, and notice where they are, exhaustion seems to magically dissipate.

The entire day was amazing, but you’ve barely had a chance to be near Carlos. So, as he finally takes his seat across from you, the desire to kiss him simmers just beneath your skin, burning you whole. He's clad in his signature red shirt, his unruly hair falling playfully over his forehead. And he’s wearing white jeans, which makes the colour of his tanned skin intensify.

Caught in the act of admiring him, you see him move his eyebrows. You roll your eyes and swiftly adjust your position in the chair, refocusing on your dads’ intense discussion about the latest football market moves.

“Piccina,” your mother chimes in. “You never told me about the Madrid trip. The gallery. Was it nice?”

You glance at your mother and then at the whole table. Carlos has that playful twinkle in his eyes, clearly anticipating to hear you stutter as you try to talk about the exhibition. Well, you did pay attention to the art, of course, but what remains in your mind is the way Carlos’ eyes always managed to drift to you, no matter which room you were in.

“It was beautiful, Mom,” you reply, offering her a warm smile. “I’ve already told Carlos how grateful I am for the invite.” At the head of the table, Sainz Sr. smiles at you, with a simple yet approving nod. “The other Carlos tagged along with me. He got to learn a lot about art. Right, junior?”

Carlos leans to you, propping his elbows on the table, a trace of amusement dancing in his eyes.

"I have to admit, you managed to make even the dullest of rooms seem interesting."

Thankfully, Sainz Sr.'s hearty laughter momentarily steals everyone's attention, giving you a chance to regain your composure. Your cheeks are warm, and from the feeling of them, you know they’re red. You managed to make even the dullest of rooms seem interesting. And he smiles, because he knows you badly you’re falling.

"Well, that's impressive,” your dad chimes.

And you're not sure if he's complimenting Carlos's smooth line or your ability to be a guide. So you ignore him and try to play it cool.

“So,” your mom continues, her hand resting on your arm, her curiosity fully piqued. "You two spent a good time together in Madrid?"

You share a subtle glance with Carlos before nodding. "Yes, we did. It was a great exhibition."

A brief hush falls over the table and you can’t help but feel like you’re under a microscope and everyone can see through you. Carlos’ gaze, steady and unwavering, is locked onto you, and you feel yourself softening, captured in his attention.

“Well,” Sainz Sr., who's been quietly observing, interjects with a warm smile. "It seems like you two have been getting along quite well."

Carlos chuckles and looks down, his fingers lightly tapping the rim of his glass. You both exchange a quick look, a silent understanding passing between you.

It’s time.

"Actually," you start, "we've been getting along really, really well."

Reyes leans in. "Oh? Do tell."

“We’ve been…” You hesitate, glancing at Carlos for support.

He meets your gaze. “Dating,” he completes your sentence with a confident smile. “We’ve been dating for a while now. Six, seven-ish months?”

Sainz Sr.’s eyes light up, and then he furrows his brows, clearly processing the information. You can’t help but chuckle as you watch the gears turning in his mind.

“That’s before—way before I… introduced you.”

“In my defence,” you chime in. “I did try to tell you we’ve already met before. Blame your son. He’s the one who decided to play with you for so long.”

“Well, this is… wonderful news.” Sainz Sr. beams. You steak a glance at Carlos, knowing he’s definitely going to tease you about how genuinely pleased you looked after revealing the truth. “So, seven months, eh? Okay. When’s the wedding? And when do I get Carlos the 3rd?”

I had so much fun writing this one!!! I used every little break at work to write this. It's a bit different than what I usually write, so all feedback is appreciated. Thank you for the request! 🫶

#Carlos Sainz #Carlos Sainz Jr #Carlos Sainz x Reader #Carlos Sainz x You #Carlos Sainz Smut #Carlos Sainz Fanfic #Carlos Sainz Imagine #Formula 1 x Reader #Formula 1 x You #F1 x Reader #F1 x You #F1 Imagine #F1 One Shot #Driver x Reader #F1 Driver x Reader #Driver x You #F1 Driver x You #F1 Fanfic #FanF1ction

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stupidfuckingwindow · 6 months

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You // Driver

Tw: NSFW, Driver eats you out. That's it, that's the fic. He's also a stalker, but you're into it.

Driver holding you down was inspired by @silverlynx87 in the goosecord 🔥❤️

Word count: 598

His gloved hands cup your knees, slowly pulling your thighs apart. Momentarily, his fingers flex against your legs, slightly shifting his grip so he can better hold you open.

Driver plucks the toothpick from his lips, flicking it somewhere with little thought or regard directed towards the action. And, while he's still almost fully clothed, you aren't. There's no barrier between him and you. The raging erection he's harboring visibly strains against his jeans, and you're sure he's already cum just from watching you undress, based off of the way he can't keep still.

His hands lightly tremble against your thighs as he slots himself between them, breathing lightly hitching up in anticipation.

Not even ten minutes ago, you'd caught him rummaging through your drawers, your panties balled up tightly in hand. You've had your suspensions about the quiet neighbor a few doors down, but this is your first time actually catching him in the act.

As if seeing him everywhere you went wasn't already enough.

He hasn't taken his eyes off your face once, pupils blown out and heavily fixated on you. Driver's breath is warm against your exposed cunt, coming out in hot puffs like he's an overheating machine and trying to cool down.

His hands slide down from your thighs down to your hips, crowding closer and hooking your legs over his shoulders. You can hear him swallow harshly, breathing changing again into something shakier, like something's just wracked him.

Driver's shocked, in all honesty. Not that he'd ever admit it.

He'd been expecting anger, fear, confusion. Not being dropped to his knees and finally getting to see you in nothing. But that's what he'd wanted, isn't it? Going through all this effort to watch you because he'd wanted you. Wanted you so badly that he'd gotten caught in his haste. He hadn't heard the jingling of keys or your doorknob being turned.

His cock almost painfully aches between his legs, feeling trapped. Cum soaks through his boxers and sticks the fabric to his own thighs and abdomen. The usual familiarity of his jacket is now too hot for his skin, just barely restraining him. Though, without it, he's sure he would've already lost all semblance of control by now and would be fucking you against the wall.

He wets his lips nervously, peering at you through long, pretty lashes. His hair is slightly tousled, a few blond stands framing his face as opposed to being tucked in their normal spot.

Driver watches you, still, as his left hand glides over your lower stomach, holding you down as a precaution. Once he's sure you won't be squirming too much, he finally leans forward to softly suck at your clit. A muffled groan instantly leaves him at the feeling and taste, the sound vibrating against your core.

His eyes almost roll into the back of his skull, and they flutter shut from the pleasure he's giving you. The sinful moan that leaves you already has his dick twitching, and his hips buck, searching for any semblance of friction that he can get.

He pulls off your clit with a quiet, lewd popping noise, moving his head down to give attention to your centre. Driver's tongue dips between your folds, flattening his tongue to lick a long stripe upwards.

When your thighs threaten to close around his head, he lets them; desperate to feel you more.

When his eyes open again, they're back on you, studying how your face contorts from pleasure. The sight makes his hips rock against nothing, and he's already cumming, again.

Fuck.

#ryan gosling #drive (2011)#driver #n.sfw.#driver x reader #driver x you #driver smut #ryan gosling x you #ryan gosling x reader #ryan gosling smut #drive 2011 #He's so hot what the fuck

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ken-dom · 8 months

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Gloves

Driver x afab!reader

1.1k words

Summary: Driver takes you somewhere secluded to make a move you’ve been fantasising about

Author’s notes: I can’t stop thinking about his damn hands ok? Gloves. Hands. God.

I originally posted this to my main blog but I'm re-posting all my work here to have everything in one place due to an unresolved tagging issue on my main

Warnings/content: NSFW, glove kink, making out, semi-public (it’s in the car), fingering, reader has a vagina, hinted premature ejaculation, hinted thought of a blow job if you squint

The moonlight filtering through the windscreen highlighted the curve of his beautiful nose, your eyes dragging up to his unreadable blues, shining back at you through the shadows.

He was, as always, seemingly emotionless, watching you without thought or intention colouring his expression. But you could feel it. A thrill ran though your body and settled at your core.

Your heart began to beat faster as you tried to catch your breath; you weren’t sure exactly when you lost it, but you were practically panting, trying to disguise it in case you’d got it all wrong. But for what other reason would he bring you here and park in such a secluded spot?

Something shifted in the air, then. Whatever you were feeling from him intensified and before you had a chance to wonder what exactly had caused it, his lips were sliding against yours, heavy but slow.

God, he was a good kisser. As intense as his gaze, yet kind of needy. His tongue pressed into your mouth, coaxing yours to glide against it, and you moaned involuntarily. Too loudly.

He didn’t make a single sound as his gloved hands slid from where they’d found your waist to under your ass, pulling you to him and onto his lap. The manoeuvre broke the kiss, but only briefly, and in that short reprieve you chuckled, feeling heady.

He didn’t laugh with you. But he was the one who pushed forward to thrust his tongue back between your swollen lips, so you didn’t doubt his desire.

His breath was heavy each time he paused to catch it, and you wondered whether to try and take his jacket off. Would he want that? Is that what this was?

You couldn’t think too much, though, or for too long. Not with his arousal pressing against your inner thigh so tantalisingly. And certainly not when his still-gloved hand began to toy with the fastening on your jeans.

He broke away to find your eyes again, and when they locked on yours, you gasped. You’d never seen him like this. You’d imagined it plenty of times, but this was so much better.

‘This ok?’ he murmured, and you didn’t know better you’d think he was nervous.

‘Yes,’ you breathed, your hand moving to help him unfasten your zip, while his other hand was busy caressing your lower back.

He nodded, eyes falling down to where his fingers were slipping past the elastic of your underwear.

You weren’t sure if it was inexperience or simply the awkward position causing him to fumble slightly, but it barely mattered. He knew when the leather covered tips of his fingers found your sweet spot because you moaned a different type of moan and you dropped forward, your forehead pressing to his and your breath hot against his face.

He smirked, pleased with himself, massaging slow circles as you hummed and rocked your hips against his measured ministrations.

Fuck. You could probably cum right now, before he’d even pushed a finger inside. Before he’d even had the chance to fuck you. Why did he have to keep his gloves on? Your filthiest fantasy, something you felt you’d be too shy to share with him, and he was giving it to you right now without ever having to exchange a word about it.

Maybe it was his fantasy too. Maybe he kept them on when he thought about you like this.

Your fingertips drove into his shoulders and he let out a heavy but delighted little sigh, fingers exploring lower until he was finally sliding a finger into you. You guided him with your hips again, rocking against his gloved hand to drag his finger against your g spot.

He watched you intently, memorising every reaction your blissed out face gave him, noticing every tremble, listening for every sound of pleasure. It was that that brought you over the edge. That strong, silent stare of his that made your core clench every time.

As your walls tightened around his pumping, elegant finger and you ground against the leather on his palm, he finally made a sound, too.

You almost missed it, your own pleasured moans echoing around the car. It was a small, ‘Mmh-’ and it was weak and whiny.

As you collapsed completely onto him, you wondered if maybe he’d cum too. You hadn’t touched him. You hadn’t even pressed yourself against his obviously aching cock. But he was panting and trembling and shifted uncomfortably in his seat beneath you.

You didn’t ask.

The hand at your lower back trailed up to tilt your chin so he could kiss you again. Gentle and lingering, without tongue this time.

‘You alright?’

‘Yeah,’ you sighed. ‘Are you?’

‘Let’s get you home.’

And then you were back in the passenger seat, body turned to watch dreamily as the soft light from passing street lamps illuminated his handsome profile.

He only turned to face you again when he’d pulled up outside your place. A ghost of a smile graced his pretty lips for the briefest of moments, proud at how sleepy he’d made you, and with only his fingers. He was feeling pretty tired too. But you didn’t need to know that.

He removed his gloves then, biting at the slick-coated finger he’d fucked you with to drag the first one off. He flexed his fingers, watching them with a satisfied curl of his lips before he walked around to your side of the car, offering his arm to walk you to your front door.

There, you faced one another in comfortable silence, and you wondered whether you should lean up to kiss him again. You did smile, though, blushing a little, and he blinked his gaze away.

You inhaled deeply, biting your lips together as you got up the courage to do it, pressing your lips to his cheek.

‘Thank you for tonight,’ you whispered in his ear before dropping back onto your heels and finding your keys.

He nodded again, uttering a coy, ‘See you tomorrow,’ and casually popping a toothpick into his mouth.

You remained on your step, watching as he drove off into the night, your legs still trembling a little.

You licked your lips.

Tomorrow, you thought, would be all about him.

#not s f w 💀#driver x reader #drive 2011 #drive (2011)#ryan gosling x reader #ryan gosling #drive fic #driver x reader fic #drive smut #driver smut #driver x you #driver x y/n #driver x reader smut #ken-dom writes

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tracksidequeen · 2 years

Text

Briefing Room Heat

Summary: After messing up the race Toto has a lot to say, but when he crosses the line you're sure to make sure he'll make up for it. On your terms.

Request: Reader is a female Merc driver and they’ve had a rough weekend as a team with reader and Lewis or George having a double DNF. Race debrief is full of frustration and tension and afterwards reader and Toto share some heated words which ends in pure filth in the debrief room/Toto’s office/hotel wherever! The way you write for Toto does things

Warnings: 18+, angry!toto, smut, dom!toto, also dom!reader, power play, misuse of power, degradation, spanking, fingering, blowjob, deep throat.

Words: 2.5K+

********

"Unbelievable!"

Toto's words echo through the tense briefing room. No one dares to speak a word, nor look at him. You're convinced some haven't even taken a breath out of fear he'll focus his attention on them, but that'd be very unlikely since you're the one that messed up.

"How could you do that? It's clear. We've spoken about this before the race. We follow plan A, depending on Lewis' strategy, otherwise we switch to B," he yells with every word getting increasingly louder as he paces aimlessly around the room. "All I ask from you is to drive fast, and we'll do the thinking for you. Because clearly you can't."

Composed you answer him, "I did what I thought was best for the team, Toto. There was-" "NO. Fuck that!" he screams, and suddenly his aimless pacing is directed towards you and he leans over the table. "You did what was best for you, and it cost Lewis his race. You selfish-"

"TOTO! That's enough," Lewis interrupted with a harsh tone and Toto's index finger hovered inches in front of your face from telling you off. "You heard what she said. In the situation she did all she could with the information she had, and in the end it was damage control, but it didn't cost me my race."

"You had the information. You have a whole fucking team that does the thinking for you yet you still manage-" "Toto!" You sit there in silence as Lewis interrupts him again in your defence. You take the blows below the belt from Toto because you know you're the bigger man in this situation and in the heat of the moment nothing good will come out of the conversation and he'll be the one apologising to you. "Toto I think it's best if you leave this meeting, and have James update you afterwards, because this is not working."

Frustrated Toto leaves the room without saying another word. Lewis makes consoling eye contact with you from the other side of the table. Apologetic eyes. Because he knew first hand what it felt like to be in your position. You're fighting for the team, but also for your own championship and sometimes it feels lonely when you make a decision that works out better for you, and even lonelier if the decision you make doesn't go according to plan.

During the continuation of the meeting you heard a repetition of Toto's words but in a more respectful manner by all the other strategists and engineers. As the meeting came to an end people trickled out of the room.

"You okay?" Lewis came to your side of the table and put his hand on your shoulder. "Yea, I will be." "Give him a moment and talk to him. Clear the air. Because I bet he didn't mean anything of what he just said," Lewis said with a pitiful smile. "Sure. I guess." You shrug your shoulders and your drop your face in your hands. Shaking your head you say, "I'm the one that needs a moment because what he said was fucked up."

"Yes it was."

The Austrian accent fills the room and cuts like a knife through your soul making it difficult to hold back your tears of frustration. With your face in your hands, you hear Toto walk in and Lewis excusing himself to give you both a moment alone and he closes the door behind him.

"I could've handled that differently," he chuckles and he places a hand on your shoulder. "Not my best moment." "DON'T fucking touch me." He thinks he can just laugh this off, give you a hug and think it's all good? You jump up out of your seat. For the first time you make eye contact with Toto and he sees your bloodshot watery eyes holding back tears. "Whatever you have to say to me, I don't want to hear it."

"No, come on," he says, as he follows you out the briefing room into the hallway. "Let's talk about this. It's important."

"Talk about this?" you repeat his words. "Talk about it? Let's. Let's talk about it. Perhaps about how you're a disrespectful asshole. Or perhaps about how you're a manipulative sonofabitch."

"Lower your voice, people are here," he shushes you. "Oh so now you care?" you retort angrily. "You didn't seem to care about the volume of your own voice when you were screaming in my face while the same people were watching." He walked in the direction of his trackside office and beckoned you to follow him. "I know what I did, and I am very sorry that I expressed my emotions in that way. It is something I shouldn't have done, but there are also things you shouldn't have done," he says as he closes the door of his office. "We're part of a team here and we have to look out for each other. You have a team of strategists that tell you what to do, and all I ask you is to drive-"

"OH... that's what it is?" you interrupt him with a baffled and infuriated tone of voice and you let your anger out, finally. "So to you I'm just some token female driver in the team you use for your pr but when it comes to the driving you have people thinking for me, because 'oh a woman with braincells.. does that exist?' Well fuck you, Toto." "That's not what I meant-" "No, it is EXACTLY what you meant," you take a step closer to him. "Isn't it?"

"No it is not. Just that we make a plan. We agree to the plan, and you managed to fuck it all up," he says calmly but to the point, his words cutting through your heart. He was so proud of you when he first signed you, and there was nothing more you wanted than living up to the standards the team had set for you. "Toto," you yelp desperately. "What do you expect me to do? When race after race you set the bar higher for me, but I get no support. Not from the team. Not from you. All because you prioritise Lewis."

He shakes his head at your remarks as you continue, "if no one is looking out for me, I'll look out for me. I'll live with the consequences of it blowing up in my face, but I will fight for my right in this team. I will fight for my voice. And there is nothing or nobody that can stop me."

"Ugh darling," he says while reaching out his hand towards your arm, but he quickly remembered you didn't want to be touched so he lowered it again before contact. "I had no idea you felt this way." You scoff at him, "no idea? You're a team principal for crying out loud. Don't come with this bullsh-" "No, I mean, I had no idea you felt like I do not have your back. Love, there are certain decisions we make as a team, and sometimes they are difficult to take, but given the current strategies it leaves us with no other choice. And I understand with that we put a lot of pressure on you. But not for a moment do I want you to think that you don't have my support."

"Then what about all the crap you yelled in my face?" you challenge him. "Well that was just plain right stupid on my end and I can't apologise enough. I'll make it up to you, trust me," he says, and as you take a step closer to him, he places his hand on your arm and slightly squeezes it. "You have no idea how much you mean to me. I want you to know that. I need you to know that."

"How much I mean to you? Oh you mean how I'm just a driving monkey with no braincells you can put in front of a camera and get a good reputation for having the 'first female driver of the new era,'" you say with a theatrical voice. "C'mon, I'm sorry, you know I didn't mean that." "Well there's more I can do besides driving," you say as you step back and sit on his desk with a devious smile. He raises his eyebrows, "I bet you can do a lot of things very well."

"You know, Toto." You tilt your head, and speak determined. "You've been very, very bad to me. Which makes me very, very angry." You beckon him to come closer with one finger and he approaches you slowly. "And I do the things I'm good at extra well when I am angry at someone who has been bad to me."

Innocently you spread your leg a little to make sure he understands what you were referring to, but he knew very well. "Good thing then that I'll still have to make it up to you." "Lock the door," you demand, but despite your efforts at taming him, he still holds the upper-hand. Just how you like it. "Why? You're scared someone will walk in and see you fuck the boss? Or are you scared they'll see the look on your face of how much you're enjoying it?"

"Try and find out." Within seconds of your words his lips found yours, your fingers found the button of his shirt and his hands found the curves of your ass. Seconds later he ripped the clothes off your body and slammed your ass back down on his desk and spread your legs. "I'll show you just how much you mean to me," he says as he spits in his hand and lets his fingers dive between the warm folds of your wetness.

His intimate but intensely rough touch send shivers through your whole body and your start rocking your hips against his fingers to let him enter you deeper. "I'll show you what else I'm good for, you asshole," you say with a devilish smile on your face. "But first you'll have to work for it." In response he increases the pace of his fingers entering as you fiddled with his belt to open it. "Oh yea, you wanna fight, make up, and fuck, don't you?" he whispered in your ear. "You dirty little girl."

"But I'm your dirty little girl, aren't I?" you say and you slowly get off the table, his fingers still knuckles deep massaging your g-spot, but they slide out as you slide down. Your hand traces all the way from his chest down to his groin, where his belt is hanging loose and his zipper is open. Slowly you approach the bulge in his pants with your mouth but before touching him you look up, "are you sorry mister big boss?" "Yes, I am." You look down at the outline of his hard cock, "are you sorry too?" You see his bulge twitch at the teasing of your words. "I'll consider that a 'yes,'" you say and slide down his elastic waistband, making his dick fling up against your face.

"Take me. Now," Toto demands as he rocks his hips forward making his cock slide against your face. The pre-cum covers the side of your cheek and you let his dick slide in your mouth. With a full mouth you look up at him, "watch it-" You slide his cock out with a pop at the end. "-or you'll regret it." He chuckles amused at the power you think you hold over him, but you know there is nothing that gets him harder than a good power play. He grabs your hair and holds it in a ponytail behind your head for good grip and slowly slides his cock in your mouth again.

At an increasing pace he starts fucking your face, pushing a little deeper with every thrust of his hips. Your dough eyes look up at him with innocence, but behind that innocence is a hungry glint. "You naughty fuck, I know how much you love this." You grab on to his thighs to give yourself some leverage and without any sign of warning and without holding back you push your face towards the base of his shaft for as far as you can.

Gagging sounds escape your mouth. Tears fall down your cheek. And Toto's grunts fill his office. "Fuck. Fuck, oh my god," he yelps as he pushes in a little deeper. His pathetic whines sound like music to your ears, and as you pull out you look up at him. His eyebrows frowned, and bite marks are on his bottom lip. You made him feel something he hadn't felt in a long while. Your lips roll down his shaft again, and with every blow his cock twitches and hardens. "You take me so good," he moans. "Yes, just like that. A little deeper." He says as he pushes your face towards his shaft and tilts his hips to enter you deeper.

Rock hard and right on the edge. He is about to come. It was written all over his face, his desperate moans and his shaking hips, but moments before you felt his breathing get heavier, signifying the commence of his climb to orgasm you roll your lips off his cock.

Desperately he tries to nudge your head back into the direction of his cock, but you look up with a cheeky expression. "Fuck don't do this to me," he whines. "I learned my lesson. Please, what do I have to do." Without missing a beat you reply, "go up to room 138 at 11pm, and make me cum as hard as you will right now."

Without letting him reply you roll your lips back on his cock and suck him off hard, every blow deeper, more intense, tighter and rougher. To the point he could taste colours and smell sounds. You cupped his balls and played with them as you took him deep, letting his tip touch the back of your through and saliva spilling out of your mouth.

Shaking hips, his hands holding on to your hair as a beacon, spasming muscles and a twitching cock about to explode. "Fuck yes, YE-S." Within seconds he came hard in your mouth, leaving behind his full load and your stick out your tongue as proof of how well you took him. You watch as Toto heaves a euphoric sigh of relief and he tucks a strand of hair behind your ear as you gulp it down. "Good girl."

As he gets back to grips on reality he helps you get dressed and proper again, and tries to compose himself as well. But after what you just did you know he'll be having difficulties focussing on whatever meeting he has to attend to next.

"Lesson learned," he says with an exhausted smile. "Lesson learned when I say so." He raises his eyebrows at your remark. "Meet me at 11 and we'll see if I can forgive you." "Oh trust me you will forgive me," he says determinedly. "And you'll be coming back for more."

--------

Thank you for making it to the end. I hope you liked it! Please show some appreciation with a comment or reblog <3

#toto wolff #toto wolff smut #toto wolff x reader #toto wolff x you #toto wolff fic #driver x reader #driver x you #formula 1 smut #formula 1 x reader #formula 1 fic

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jamminvroomvroom · 1 month

Note

4k celebration

i want to see feral lando. dom lando. choking and degrading and rough lando. maybe a bad race, maybe flirting with another driver. weeknd vibes lando. rough rough rough lando.

heat.

ln x fem!reader - 4k celebration

in which lando fucks you until the sun comes up :)

i am. feral. there are no words to describe how unhinged i am over this, this is super self indulgent and i cannot thank you enough anon hehe - lemme know what y’all think ily! <3

songs to set the mood: earned it by the weeknd, novacane by frank ocean, heaven angel by the driver era

warnings: 18+!! minors dni!! smut, pwp with a bit of plot, choking, crying, swearing, overstimulation, neck? riding? (hehe), degradation, a slap or two, soft dom!lando, also not so soft dom!lando (he switches up a bit), just feral unhinged vibes

2k words

foreglow:

the glow of light appearing in the sky preceding sunrise

the sunrise casts a tangerine foreglow over your bodies, the bed, everything the light can touch.

lando’s slumped against the headboard and you’re sprawled over his lap, legs hooked over his, with his hand working between your thighs.

it’s been hours. he’s had you spread out for him, countless positions and locations utilised. you were paying for your behaviour over the race weekend, but really, it was all his fault.

he’d been too cocky, looked too good, the australian air getting to his head. you’d been glowering at him since you’d arrived in the land down under, watching in erotically charged horror as he paraded around looking, to put it simply, slutty. tight shorts, arms out, neck on display for all to see. his fucking neck. god, it looked so thick, flexing every time he turned to smirk at you. the heat rendered you delirious, and so did he.

and you couldn’t even think about that fucking daddy bracelet he’d been sporting.

you decided you needed payback, in the form of some carefully constructed, harmless flirting with everyone from the mechanics to the guys on the pit wall old enough to be your father. but lo and behold, it worked, and that’s how you found yourself in this position.

the position in question?

being fucked every which way lando deemed fit until the sun came up.

“you learnt your lesson yet, baby?” lando grunts into your ear, pinching your clit between his fingers.

your thighs are soaked, shaking uncontrollably, and your head has lulled back against his shoulder. you’re breathing heavily, your back flush against his front and he’s restless. you’ve lost count of the number of orgasms you’ve been pushed to.

“lan.” you breathe, eyes fixated on the bracelet adorning his wrist. the kitschy trinket sends liquid fire down your spine and you spasm as he continues to swirl his calloused thumb over your clit.

“that’s not an answer.” he tuts, slipping his fingers through your slit until he’s circling your weeping entrance. you’re coated with slick, some of it his from where he’d fucked you up against the wall a good few hours ago. “have you,” he kisses your shoulder, trailing his fingers that were digging into your hip up your belly. “learnt your lesson?” his teeth sink into your flesh at the same time he pinches your nipple.

you gasp out a cry of his name, slurring incomprehensibly, “yes, yes, ‘m sorry, i’m so sorry.” you sob. his chest rumbles cruelly with laughter and you’re hurtling towards another release, the overstimulation making it easy for him to get you off.

“that’s all you needed to say, honey.” lando coos condescendingly.

as if he’s rewarding you for owning up, two of his fingers sink into your entrance, sliding deep. the sound of your wetness sends your eyes rolling back as he scissors his digits in and out of you, speeding them up into a delicious grind. you’re a mess in seconds, slumped into him as close as can be. kisses over your neck soothe you and you feel the wet rush of your release approaching quicker than you can comprehend it. you gush all over his fingers, dripping down his wrist, coating that annoying fucking bracelet.

“there you go, baby. so good for me.” he whispers, slowing his thrusts. “can you turn over for me? want you to look at me.”

you pant as you wriggle around in his arms until you’re straddling his lap. you can feel yourself dripping on him, his thick length sliding between your folds. the exhaustion renders you languid, ready to let him do just about whatever he wants to you next.

lando cups your breast, stroking gently over your nipple while he runs his tongue all over his long fingers. he loves to make you watch, torturing you until you’re needy for another release.

“you think you can do a few more for me?” lando smirks, bringing the fingers that he’d just licked clean to your other breast, fiddling with your other nipple. he has you rolling your hips against him, inadvertently chasing another high already. he loves it, revels in how he can reduce you to this, so desperate that you’re grinding down on his cock, a wet mess in his lap, all for him.

“yeah, lan.” you nod profusely, your tired eyes locked with his. the early morning sun hits them enticingly, making them sparkle green in the warm light. he looks disgustingly gorgeous like this, soft and yours, resting against the headboard, curls spilling over his forehead and into his eyes. if you didn’t know that he was mulling over a million twisted ideas in his brain that involved resorting you to tears of pleasure, you’d think he looked adorable.

“good.” he grins. “not even nearly done with you.” he looks evil; your thighs clench around his hips.

without moving you off of his lap, he uses his strength to slide down the bed until he lays flat. he beckons you to crawl up his body, and you find the strength to wriggle over him, thighs resting on either side of his neck when he stops you.

“you gonna slide your pretty little cunt over my neck?” lando asks, wrapping his huge hands around your thighs. you gulp, staring down at him dumbfounded. “don’t look at me like i’m crazy, baby. you think i don’t see you staring at it with that special little look in your eyes?” he teases. “get to fucking work, i’m not gonna ask again.”

hesitantly, you lower yourself against his his skin, flaming red with embarrassment and lust. you can’t lie and pretend that you aren’t utterly enticed by this, that you aren’t leaking down your thighs at the prospect of sliding your pussy along his tanned, flexed flesh. the adventurousness of the escapade makes your legs tremble, nerves eating you alive, but it’s all worth it when you feel that first glide.

you curse out, loud and breathy, the new sensation creating lewd sounds between you. he’s obsessed, staring up at you in mischievous awe as you rock your hips backwards and forwards. you tangle one hand in his hair, tugging hard in sheer desperation, while the other hand balances you against the headboard so you don’t crush him. he guides your hips like he wants to die like this, suffocated by you and everything you have to offer him.

“oh my fucking god.” you choke out a moan, jaw hanging agape as you continue to slide against him. every time you move forwards, you feel the delectable prickle of his trimmed facial hair scratching against your inner thighs and your eyes squeeze shut each time, pure pleasure bubbling in the pit of your belly.

“you have no idea how fucking good you look.” lando rasps, digging his fingertips into the meat of your thighs. you’re so tense, teetering on the very edge. the strength he possesses, his composure while you’re sitting on his fucking neck makes you throb.

you gaze down at him, feral, and it does something to him, because he’s yanking you up onto his parted lips, burying his face as far as it will go. you yelp, collapsing into the headboard as he holds you down on his tongue, lapping up your mess.

“can taste us.” he mumbles into the flesh of your cunt, barely audible, but you hear it and it makes you shiver. you black out as your orgasm hits, your ears ringing as bliss courses through your limp body like a delicious electric shock. your nerves are shot when he rolls you onto your back.

“fucking heaven.” lando groans, crawling over you as he licks his lips.

he’s invigorated by the taste of you, how spent you are, and how it’s all his fault. you can’t string a sentence together, but you’re grabbing at his toned body like you’re begging silently for more, anything. he needs to drive into you, fill up up, make you remember that your little games will always lead back to this, the reminder that you’re his.

“you sensitive, honey?” he growls, hand sliding between your legs while his necklace rests in the valley between your breasts. you whimper at the sensation, overloaded, nodding. you both know you need more; he needs more. “tough.”

lando practically folds you in half when he fucks into you, giving you no solace in adjusting to him. he ruts into you hard, fast, unrelenting as he sinks deeper and deeper with every thrust.

“you’re gonna behave from now on. you don’t need to make me jealous for me to fuck you.” he grunts. his slaps your hip, the harsh snap leaving a sting that has you convulsing. “this is what you deserve isn’t it? whoring yourself out because you were a wet mess for me all weekend.”

you whine his name, sobs wracking your body. he feels utterly divine hammering into you like life itself depends on it. you’ve lost track of where he stops and you begin, stars behind your eyes that turn into butterflies festering in your belly. you’re so full, flushed beneath him, gushing every time he opens his dirty fucking mouth.

“crying for me, love?” he mocks, lowering himself to get even closer to you, his tongue finding your tears tracks and licking the salty residue away until you’re shuddering.

“please, lando, please, told you i’m sorry.” you plead, begging for something undisclosed, but it’s okay, because he knows exactly what to do with you.

“be fucking quiet.” lando coos once more, sickeningly unsympathetic.

but you can’t help it, whimpering out his name, begging for some form of relief, or mercy, or for him to just fuck you impossibly harder. how can you be quiet when he’s tearing you so perfectly apart?

lando doesn’t like being disobeyed, so when you continue to sob, loud and lewdly, his hand finds it’s way to the base of your throat. your jaw goes slack, wheezing at the intense rush you get when he squeezes slowly, and you can’t help but let go.

“fucking- lando!” you writhe.

“i know, baby, i know.” he shushes you, hooking your leg even higher so that he can bury himself as deep as possible.

you spasm hard, impossibly tight around him and he stutters, collapsing you both hard into the mattress. you hold him so, so tight as he cums, shooting into you. you can feel him leaking out of you already, white hot, and laying there in a heap of sweat and adoration. he breathes a laugh, nuzzling into the crook of your neck.

“are you okay, honey?” he whispers, kissing your collarbone.

“just peachy. a bit knackered.” you giggle, tangling your fingers into his damp curls.

“so, you liked the bracelet then?” he teases, nose bumping against your cheek as he raises his wrist to your eye line.

“i think it needs a clean.” you wrinkle your nose, thinking about what the beads had been exposed to over the last few hours.

“let’s shower, hm? then we can watch the sunrise.” lando suggests, sitting you up slowly.

“you’re gonna need to carry me.” your legs are still quivering.

“anything for you.” he says, hand over his heart.

45 minutes later, the sun is sitting pretty, high in the sky.

7:26am, the clock reads. the melbourne skyline glimmers hot with the rise of a new day.

you’re snuggled into his side, wet hair cooling the heat of damp skin. your eyes flutter, barely fighting the urgent need to sleep.

“you have no idea how much i love you.” lando caresses your stringy locks, pushing the hair from your eyes.

your bare bodies mould together, basking in the orange of the dawn.

“love you.” you mutter, brushing your lips against his chest in an open mouthed kiss. “promise i’ll start behaving.” you snicker.

“but baby, you know i love it when you’re bad.”

“okay, i’ll remember that… daddy.” you retort, a teasing lilt to your tone.

he ignores the way his blood rushes south, too conscious of your exhausted body - and his own - to climb on top of you and fuck you until the sun sets once more.

“get some sleep.” he whispers through gritted teeth.

you sink into sleep while he watches over you. the view from the hotel room is gorgeous, breathtaking, but why would he give it even a millisecond of his attention when he has you?

head? empty.

taglist

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c0eu4 · 5 months

Note

Charles speaking dirty in french🤭🤭🤭🤭

CL16 | Dirty boy ♡

Summary: Y/n keeps bothering her boyfriend until he gives in and shows her how to be a good girl.

Warning: dirty talk, smut, no protect sex, dom!Charles, sub!reader, mean!Charles, handcuffs, a bit of hitting (soft)

A/N: enjoy<3

Translation: mon amour= my love | Chéri.e= darling

MASTERLIST requests are open

She sits on his lap, her hand passing through his brown hair. ''Mon amour, I'm trying to work.'' If there are two things that the young woman loves, it's annoying her boyfriend when he's trying to work and his horribly sexy French accent.

She kisses his cheek, her other hand running over his abs through his t-shirt. He feels a shiver down his spine, but doesn't give in to temptation. ''Chérie, please.''

She doesn't listen to him and kiss the crook of his neck, nibbing it softly. His hand found its way to her waist, rubbing it softly. ''Don't you want to take a break?'' She let her hand go under his t-shirt, using her fingerstip to touch his abs.

He sighs, from pleasure? Annoying? She does not know but she doesn't care. Her hand under his t-shirt keeps going up, her mouth continuing to stimulate his neck by leaving a few red marks and lovebites.

He didn't push her away, trying to focus on the computer screen in front of him. He begins to feel tight in his pants, her ass wiggling against him and her fingertips tracing the vertical line of his abs.

His hand which was on her waist goes down to caress her ass, squeezing it softly. ''T'as envie que je te baise hein?'' you want me to fuck you, huh?

She doesn't understand what he said but can't help and moan softly against his soft skin. He grabs her jaw and forces her head up to kiss her. She moans into the kiss and Charles takes the opportunity to slip his tongue into her mouth, caressing the inside of her cheeks.

She removes his headphone and places it on the desk, running her hand through his hair. He picks her up and moves her into the bedroom, dropping her on the bed. ''Qu'est ce que je vais faire de toi?'' What am I going to do with you?

She feels the excitement build even more in her body, his accent completely turning her brain. ''Tu es si irrésistible..'' You're so irresistible.

He removes his t-shirt, finally revealing his abs that she loves to caress so much. ''Take off all of your clothes.'' His voice was firm yet sweet. She listens to him and takes off her clothes, revealing her underwear to him. ''I said all of your clothes.'' She can't help but blush, even though Charles has seen her naked so many times.

She takes off her last clothes and watches him rummage through the drawer of his nightstand.

''Is it ok if I tie your wrist to the bed?'' She bit her lower lips. ''Yes. You can do whatever you want with me, my love.''

Charles smirks, taking off two handcuffs from the drawer, deftly tying one end around one of her wrist, securing it to the headboard. He repeated this process with her other wrist, leaving her bound and vulnerable in front of him.

He takes his time to take off his pants and joins her in bed, getting on top of her and one of his hands already trailing between her thighs. ''Je parie que tu es toute mouillée, mh?'' I bet you're soaking, mh?

She whines, wanting him to touch her. ''Please.. Charlie..'' He chuckles, his cold hand touching her inner thighs. She can't help but move her hips to try and show him her impatience. His fingers move up slowly and he slides one finger between her wet folds. ''Toute mouillée et rien que pour moi.'' All wet and only for me.

She closes her eyes, trying to move her hands but can't. Her head fell back against the pillow with a long moan of his name when she felt his lips against her bundle of nerves.

She can't help but squirm with pleasure as he continues to stimulate her with his tongue. And just as she was about to cum, Charles suddenly stopped and moved his kisses back to her stomach.

''What the hell Charles!'' she shouted, frustrated. He laughs, kissing her ribs. His laugh is deep and dark, almost frightening.

He rubs himself against her wet fold, making her moan deeply. He can feel the wet through his boxer and it turns him so much on. ''Putain Y/n tu vas me faire jouir juste parce que t'es autant mouillée.'' Damn Y/n you're gonna make me cum just because of your wetness.

''Charles..I need you!'' She whines, shaking violently under him. He doesn't wait longer and takes off his boxer and thrust roughly into her tight and wet cunt.

''Merde.. t'es si serré..'' shit.. you're so tight..

He doesn't wait any longer to almost pull out and go back in roughly.

''Tu la prends si bien.'' You take it so well.

If he keeps talking like that, she'll probably cum faster than expected.

''Oh oui, t'es si bonne.. ma pute..'' Oh yes, you're so good.. my whore..

''Ch-Charles!'' She moaned loudly before cumming hardly around his cock. Charles takes it upon himself and holds back from cumming as he feels her walls tightening around his cock. He speeds up his movements, his hips hitting hers with a sensual sound of flesh smacking and a wet sound.

His hand hits the side of her thigh. ''Dit moi que tu m'appartient.'' Tell me you're mine.

She doesn't understand what he says and moans loudly, not having time to recover from her orgasm.

Charles hit her thigh a second time, this time leaving a red mark of his hand. ''Dit moi que you're mine!''

Her back arches a second time, her eyes filling with tears. ''I-I'm yours !'' He moaned loudly, but kept holding himself. ''En Français.'' in French.

The feeling is almost unbreathable and she can barely find her breath. ''Je..J-je appartiens.'' She managed to moan, with her sensual English accent.

''Putain oui..Bonne fille.. Mon jouet baisable préféré..'' Fuck yes.. good girl.. my favorite fucktoy..

Charles redoubles his efforts, showing his breathing and dumbbell physique in his thrusts. The room is filled with their moans. One of Charles' hands finds its way between her legs, playing with her clit.

She doesn't wait any longer to come brutally a second time, tears leave her eyes to roll down her cheeks.

''Oh oui.. serre moi fort..'' Oh yes.. tight me hard..

Charles continues to thrust inside her until he reaches his own climax, his hot seed feeling her up perfectly.

''Ah! Putain! Y/n! T'es trop bonne!'' Ah! Fuck! Y/n! You're too good!

He crashes into her, still being careful not to hurt her. After a few minutes of catching their breath, he pulls out of her with a wet noise and one last moan leaves her lips.

He unties her hands, massaging her wrist to relieve it. ''Ça va, mon chat?'' All good, my cat?

She turns around and hugs him tightly, nuzzling her head into his neck. ''That was great. As usual.''

He can't help but smirk, his hands rubbing her back. ''Je sais que t'aime bien quand je suis méchant avec toi..'' I know you like it when I'm mean with you..

One of his hand goes lower and gently strokes her red thigh. She kisses his neck, already nibbing on it again.

''Ready for round two?''

#f1 fanfic #f1 imagine #f1 drivers #f1 x reader #f1 smut #help he's so hot #smut #charles leclerc f1 #charles leclerc x reader #charles leclerc smut #charles leclerc x female reader #charles leclerc x you #charles leclerc #cl16 x reader #cl16 imagine #cl16 smut

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sebscore · 7 months

Note

Forget the wags, could you write something about all the drivers having massive small crushes on reader and like there’s loads of edits on social media of them looking at her with heart eyes or just general ship edits or I mean ship fan fiction that they have to read in a team challenge or something..👀

LATE NIGHT TALKING

pairings: f1 drivers x driver!reader (indirectly)

warnings: swearing. drunk drivers. lando talking about a woman.

author’s note: I AM BACK FINALLY! also I wrote this in my notes app so pls be patient 😭😭 and this is probs the closest thing I’ll ever write to romance for this series lol

masterlist

“Out of all the drivers, who would you date?” Pierre drunkenly, almost-giggly, asked the question to his fellow colleagues.

Charles, George, Lando, Alex, Carlos and Yuki nervously laughed at the shit-faced Frenchman in front of them.

“Out of the entire grid?” Charles wanted clarification.

Pierre nodded. “Like hypothetical, if none of us had partners.” He quickly added.

A silence followed. The seven men thinking of all the possibilities.

“I mean…” Lando was the first one to speak up, every head in the hotel room shooting up at him,

“and this stays between us, right?” He followed up, needing reassurance from the others, who swiftly nodded their heads.

“If like, I was single, and I could only date one of the drivers… I would date Y/N.” He confessed.

His words were met with choruses of “same” and “me too”. A small, relieved sigh left Lando’s mouth at the others’ agreement.

“Yeah, you guys are cool and all, but Y/N’s the right answer.” George snickered, awkwardly avoiding eye-contact with the group.

Charles hummed. “I’m also choosing her, but you know, cause I’m not, uh…”

“For the other side of the street?” Alex laughed, taking a swig from his drink.

“Yeah.” The Monegasque’s dimples made an appearance, grinning towards the Williams driver.

“I think she would rather die than date one of you guys.” Carlos said, matter-of-fact.

Charles, George and Lando gave him an unimpressed look, despite knowing he was speaking nothing but the truth.

“She would date me!” The McLaren driver tried saving his own ego and pride.

“She would not.” The six others immediately shot him down.

Lando scoffed at that, sitting up more straight on the bed. “Why? It’s like textbook childhood friends to lovers, or whatever Lily said at that party once.”

“You kinda sound like you want to date her.” Pierre made eyes at him, causing the younger man to lightly push him away.

“I don’t! But I’m just a little offended that you guys don’t think I could, like, you know… bag her.”

“Bag her? She’s not a fucking product.” Alex judged his choice of words, a slight disgusted expression on his face.

“You know what I mean, Albon.” Lando brushed it off, not having bad intentions. “I just think she would be a nice girlfriend to have.”

“I think so too,” Charles agreed, “she’s a lot of fun.”

“I mean- you would never get bored with her.” George hesitantly added to the conversation, feeling a little uneasy about imaging himself with his colleague.

“True.” The seven of them chorused.

“Hey, maybe we should change the topic- it’s getting weird…” Carlos suggested. The atmosphere in Charles’ large hotel room having changed drastically ever since the question had been asked.

“Yeah, good idea.” Lando cleared his throat, uncomfortably shifting on the bed.

“I would choose Pierre to date.”

“Yeah, we know, Yuki.”

#f1 fic #f1 fics #f1 x reader #lando norris x reader #charles leclerc x reader #female f1 driver #f1 x you #f1 x oc #f1 imagines #alex albon x reader #pierre gasly x reader #george russell x reader

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amaranthineghost · 22 days

Text

THE MIGHTY HAS FALLEN (BUT YOU'LL RISE AGAIN, LOVE) ( max verstappen. )

max verstappen x reader

after a tough race cut short, max pushes away any person around him, but not her. never her. she always picks up the pieces to put him back together.

authors note: I love max. I know he's not the self-deprecating typa guy, but in this, he is, OKAY. charles is after this <333

HE WAS A BOMB. the fuse getting shorter and shorter every minute that his patience was tested. everything around him seemed to irritate him more and more as he tried to keep himself from exploding, for pr's sake.

he just wanted to avoid the media all together, for obvious reasons, but he was contractually obligated to give his words to the journalists under the media tent. putting him under a microscope and asking questions that had an undertone of scrutiny in hopes of catching him break. he was close, but he wouldn’t.

it hadn’t even been a fault of his own, he rarely made those anymore. the car had caught fire, but not due to a mistake he had made, and even if it had been, he wouldn't have admitted it anyways. still he felt the guilt of his lack of performance, beating himself up after every question asked about his car and what had happened.

it was just stupid. the questions were stupid. the car was stupid. this whole race was stupid.

the pressure to perform, even in the best car on the grid, was high. despite his seat being secured for plenty of years to come, he still had expectations to meet and records to break.

it was obvious to everyone that max was hard on himself every time he didn't perform his best, his girlfriend especially noticing when she’d find him in his very luxurious driver's room sulking at even the slightest of a mistake made by him.

it didn't happen often, but when it did, she'd been there for him. he knew that.

he wanted nothing more than to crawl into a hole and never be seen again because world champions don't make stupid mistakes.

even if this hadn't been a mistake he made, he should've known. even if there was no possible way he could’ve, he should've.

he was raised to believe that he was only deserving if he had been first, that he was destined to fail after every second place or worse finish.

so it wasn't surprising when he thought he didn't deserve her. in comparison, or more like his eyes, she was simply perfect.

and she understood him, which not many people could because he wouldn't let anyone pick apart his brain like she did.

he locked his thoughts and feelings in the dark that shrouded his mind from early childhood trauma. he promised he would never let anyone see.

but he was never great at keeping such promises because it hadn't taken much for her to pick the lock to his brain. even though he wasn't ready to spill every detail of his upbringing to her, he trusted her.

and he didn't get to do that all too often.

the media had been brutal—he knew they would be—and yet it still crushed his mentality and faith in himself.

with his race suit around his waist despite having time to change beforehand, he walked through the paddock in shame at the early retirement.

it wasn't like this determined the outcome of his career because the next race, he'd be back on top. he didn't feel so sure of it though because all his thoughts were on this failure. what if he failed the next race?

what if he failed the whole season? what if he fails her?

unlikely, the people know, but he had so much confidence which had so easily crumbled when it got a little too hot. he wasn't sure of himself anymore.

anyone could see the turmoil bubbling underneath his skin, harsh waves crashing in the ocean of his blue eyes as he pushed past anyone and everyone.

the walk through the paddock was short, considering the red bull motorhome was the first of ten. max hastily entered through the automatic doors, skipping steps as he was eager to hide out in his driver's room.

he felt the eyes of the staff follow him down the hall until he disappeared quickly around the corner. he didn't want to be seen by anyone.

the door to his driver's room closed as fast as it was opened, but much louder. she heard the slam of the door echo down the hallway.

she didn't flinch, she just calmly greeted staff with smiles and left a bag of sweets on the table for them. she always brought something for the team, to celebrate every victory and despite this not being one, they still deserved it for working hard.

since she had gotten there not too long after him, she lingered around the lobby. she didn't want to be waiting around for him to show up and have him brush her off because he wasn't in the right headspace.

he would never mean to dismiss her, and she knew to give him at least a little time to himself to think and process things. she couldn't give him too much time though because she didn't want his self-deprecating thoughts to eat away at his confidence.

from what she analyzed from the staff and their demeanor, he'd probably caught them off guard when he slammed his door.

she wouldn't apologize for his behavior because she would make him do it when he cooled down.

so she hung around and made small talk with the sparse staff around to allow max a few minutes to himself before excusing herself down the hall.

she had a bomb to defuse after all.

the clack of her heels on the hard floors bounced off the walls, but she walked quietly enough so max didn't hear her coming. he knew she would though. he knew she would find him with his head in his hands, barely covered in sweat because he didn't race for more than three laps.

his face was still flush with disappointment though. he didn't want her to see him like this even though she was with him during his last disappointing race, but even though his singaporean grand prix finish wasn't great, at least he hadn't been out of the race.

max hadn't DNF’d in two years because he was simply just that good, and he still is. he just didn't feel like it.

his hands pressed so hard against his eyes, the blood vessels in them would have popped if he pushed any harder. he had taken off his red bull hat, he felt he didn't deserve the number one right now. it was thrown lazily onto the makeshift bed in his driver's room.

the room was practically silent, every so often interrupted by a deep sigh of disappointment that escaped his lips. he had sat there for a good couple or minutes, sulking.

when she reached his door, she held the bouquet of flowers she always got for him close to her body with one arm while she raised the other to knock. her hand only slightly hesitated before her fist made contact with the door and a few seconds later, she tried entering. it was locked, which was usual whenever he was brooding.

at first, when max heard the knock, he thought of all the people last on his list that he would want to see right now, but on the bottom of the list was the person he wanted to avoid the most right now.

his dad.

their relationship was rocky. he never supported max at any place unless it was on the very top of the podium, and even then max thought he looked unpleasant.

“go away,” was all max could mutter through his hands as his heart started to pick up the pace.

she sighed, shaking her head with a smile pulling at her lips, “max.” it was all she needed to say.

part of him didn't want to let her in, he didn't want her to see him like this, but he knew she was just as stubborn as him, if not more. he knew she would stand there all day if he didn't open the door to let her in.

and he would always let her in.

she heard the low creak of the sofa she could imagine him sitting on, but not his footsteps while he made his way to the door. she only knew he heard her when the lock clicked and the door slowly opened inwards to reveal the red-faced max verstappen.

she stood staring at him, her head tilted as she studied his face. he didn't move, he just watched her eyes dart around his appearance, and he felt himself getting hot under his fireproofs.

“are you going to let me in, verstappen?” she teased, a sly smile on her lips as she watched her boyfriend roll his eyes.

he scoffed, stepping aside, “don't call me that.”

“what?” she acted innocent, stepping into his driver's room with the fresh flowers, seeing the already prepped vase, “don't call you by your name?”

“you know what I mean.” though he tried to keep a straight face and act like he was still mad, he couldn't keep a smile from creeping onto his lips. she just had that effect.

she heard the door close and lock again as she took the wrapping off and placed the flowers in the vase. she shrugged at his words, her back still towards him, but she knew he had sat back down.

“you didn't have to get those,” he mumbled, “didn't win.”

she sighed, crumbling the wrapping in her hand and throwing it away before walking to where he sat. she stood in front of him as he looked up at her.

even with heels, he was still much taller than her and even though he was sitting, he reached barely below her chin.

she spread her arms to offer a hug to him, which he gratefully took, his arms snaking around the low of her hips. pressed against her chest, her arms wrapped around his head, running her fingers through his hair.

she felt him sigh against her skin, his eyes closing as they stayed like that for minutes without speaking. she felt him caress the bare skin of her thigh with his thumb.

when they finally pulled apart, his hands still laid firmly on her hips, his hair disheveled from the hug. she ran her hands through it to fix it and he only watched as she did so.

when she finally finished after only ten seconds because guy hair is a lot less complicated than women’s hair, he finally spoke up, “why are you dressed so uncomfortably?”

she was slightly taken aback, seeing as he was just moping about his race not even ten minutes ago and now commenting on her appearance. he only assumed she was uncomfortable, but unfortunately his assumption was correct.

“what do you mean?” she looked down at her attire, which isn't so different from the other wags that she hung out with.

his hand snuck around the back of her thigh and pulled up her leg, “I thought I told you to stop wearing heels, you always complain about them.”

“i’m fine,” she said, about to cross her arms, but her balance said otherwise so she settled them on his shoulders for support.

he gave her an incredulous look because every time she wore heels, without fail, she would complain less than an hour into wherever they were that she wanted to sit.

“okay, i admit i can't wait to get these things off,” she let out a deep breath, putting a hand on her hip, “but I'm supposed to be taking care of you.”

she said in his response to take the heels off her feet for her, a simple gesture really, but this was about him.

“do you want to talk about it?” she massaged his shoulders as he threw her heels to the other side of the small sofa.

“nothing to talk about,” he shrugged, “maybe I don't deserve being first.”

she pushed his head to look up at her, shaking her head, “you just don't realize how much you deserve, max. you're a world champion, a three-time one,” she reassured him, “you've won countless races, and you still have the entire season ahead of you. I know you want to, but you can't let one bad race define your season.”

“I know, you're right.” he bit the inside of his cheek as he thought deeply, “but I have to prove myself.”

“you've already done that plenty of times,” she shook his shoulders in emphasis, “besides you'll still lead the championship, unless charles gets p1, but you'll get it right back if that's the case.”

she was right. she always was, he never doubted her. he would never doubt her because she would never lie to him. she always backed up her answers by building up his ego and confidence back up so he was ready to fight it out on the track next race.

whether it took a couple of minutes or hours to bring his mood back up, she'd take her time in making him feel like the champion he was again.

she would take his phone from him, he didn't need to see the articles being written or the missing phone calls from his dad.

all he needed was her and she would always be there.

—

taglist (found here): @slut4lrh @taylorslovesswifties13 @sbella13 @kaa212 @nhlfs

proofread by @foreveralbon <333

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fangirl-dot-com · 8 days

Text

🛏 Too Many Beds

*part of the reverse tropes series*

Pairing: Lando Norris x Engineer!Reader Genre: Fluff/Humor Summary: Lando had a master plan to get you in his bed. Too bad everyone seems to mess it up. And who knew you were terrified of bed bugs?

this was so much fun to write and I'm so excited for this mini series! New upload schedule will probably be Reputations on Friday and Reverse Tropes on Saturday!

TAG LIST CLOSED

Your hand gripped your suitcase as you stood in the lobby of the hotel. Of course, McLaren thought that it would be a good idea for some more team bonding before the season started and book an entire hotel. However, they forgot to mention that some of the people had to share rooms.

How you got placed with Lando, you didn’t know. You had seen Oscar snickering earlier when Zac had read the list of who shared what room. Your face was beat red as you tried to hide in your team zip up. Your eyes flickered to Lando, only to find him fast asleep against the window of the bus. There was some drool on his lip, and anyone else would have found that semi-disgusting.

But not you.

It was kind of…endearing.

But now that you were getting your key card and were in the elevator with a very sleepy Lando, your heartrate increased. You had tried to get your own room when you had gotten there, but Zac was intent with you sharing.

Something about driver and engineer comradery.

The floor before when Oscar got off, he had leaned over and whispered, “Have fun with the one bed.”

That statement made your face even redder. Of course that would happen to you. It was straight out of Tumblr or Wattpad. The one trope that you seemed to hate over everything. One bed normally meant that it was a single or a queen. And you were known for flopping everywhere.

Poor Lando probably wouldn’t get to sleep before the first rounds of development.

Although he was sleepy, Lando, on the other hand, was vibrating with excitement.

He had the whole thing planned out. He had requested to be put in a room with you. And then he swapped rooms with Oscar, because the Aussie had a girlfriend, ergo he had a single bed room. It was going to be perfect. Oscar would get the room with two beds, and Lando would just have to share a bed with you.

The Briton had had heart eyes for you ever since you joined his rookie season in 2019. And when you had been promoted to his race engineer, the crush he had grew tenfold. He could see your face getting more red the longer it took to get to the room.

“You ready?” he asked you before he used his card to unlock the door.

“Let’s get this over with,” you muttered, just wanting to sleep. At this point, you were planning to go to bed right away so that you didn’t have to deal with Lando crawling into bed behind you. You’d be asleep at that point, giving yourself no time to ogle at his chest (if he slept with a shirt off as most guys did.)

The click of the lock indicated that the door could be opened and Lando took the initiative. This was it.

Lando was going to live his dream.

Except, his heart dropped when he noticed that there wasn’t one bed.

There wasn’t even two beds.

The room had three beds.

What. the. actual. fu....

Lando was going to kill whoever messed this up. His heart dropped farther when he saw your eyes kind of light up at the sight of beds to choose from. The McLaren driver bit his lip as he assessed the problem.

You missed Lando’s agitation and put your things on the bed by the window. You turned to Lando, now confused at his pinched eyebrows.

“Did you want the one by the window?” you asked, suddenly mad at yourself for just going ahead without asking the driver his preference.

Lando immediately shook his head. “I like sleeping by the bathroom.”

You gave him a smile. “Ok. Can I shower real fast? I go to sleep a little early.”

That was a lie. You just didn’t want to be awake when Lando went to bed. Who knows what you’d be staring at. Your mind immediately went to the abs and v-line. You shook your head, trying to rid yourself of the unholy thoughts.

You quickly opened your suitcase, grabbed your pajamas, and disappeared behind the bathroom door.

Once Lando was sure that you wouldn’t come out, he quickly pulled out his phone and texted Oscar. It was to his horror that Oscar had sent a picture of the singular king that was supposed to hold you and Lando in tonight.

Except that now it would be for Oscar and Oscar only.

The Briton wanted to rip his hair out. He started pacing before he knew it.

How could he fix this?

He could lie and say he had separation anxiety and needed to sleep with someone. But you’d see right through and ask who else he’d shared a bed with.

He could spill a drink on your bed? That also wouldn’t work because then you’d question why he had a drink around your things while you were in the shower. Lando didn’t want to come off as a giant creep.

He was still pacing when he heard the door open up.

His body turned to face you, but he immediately averted his eyes. Not because you were undressed, but because your pajamas were the cutest thing on you. You were wearing one of those silk tank tops with the smallest shorts possible.

Lando watched as your feet got closer to your bed. His thoughts were flying around at 100 miles an hour. He had to do something quickly. Your hand pulled back the bedding when Lando yelled.

“Hold on. I think I saw some bugs on my bed and yours.”

The screech that you let out made Lando wince. You reeled back as though the duvet had burnt you. You quickly made your way closer to Lando.

“Where are the bed bugs?”

Lando couldn’t really tell, but he thinks he can hear your teeth chattering. You were getting antsy.

“Are you that scared of some small bugs?”

You crept closer to Lando.

“My childhood house got infected and we had to move. I also got such a bad infection from bites.”

Lando immediately felt terrible. He didn’t know. If he had, he wouldn’t have said anything and just sucked it up and slept in his own bed. He looked at you. He could see that you were close to tears. His arm immediately went around your shoulders and brought you closer.

You huffed. “Can we go down to see if they have any other rooms on our floor?”

The brunet nodded. He looked you up and down before he turned around and dug through his suitcase. You wondered what he was doing before a hoodie hit your chest. It was the dark green one that you absolutely loved on him. You gave him a confused look.

“Ah, your pajamas.”

Oh.

You looked down and realized that you were just in a very thin tank.

Without a bra.

And the room was cold.

Your face flushed as you quickly pulled the hoodie over your head. The ends of the hoodie landed mid-thigh. You knew Lando was taller than you, but you didn’t expect his hoodie to fall that far down.

Lando couldn’t take his eyes off you and you giggled and did a little spin, showing off how the green material looked on you.

You were so worried that you’d have a staring problem, that you completely missed Lando’s staring problems.

Once you were done, you headed to the doorway, Lando hot on your feet. He should have felt guilty about lying, but you were in his clothes and that made every feeling go away. The elevator ride was quiet, but comforting instead of awkward. The ding of the machine signaled that you two made it to the ground floor.

Lando stepped out first, followed by you. Before you got to the front desk, Lando pulled the back of the hoodie, making you halt. You gave him a confused look. He dug his wallet out of his back pocket and handed you his card.

“I know you’re a bit scared of the bugs, so I’ll handle it. You want to get us some snacks?”

Lando melted at your eyes lighting up as you nodded. You wordlessly took his card and spun around, now walking in the direction of the little shop. He knew that you were always picky with snacks, so he’d have a bit of time.

He exhaled heavily as he walked up to the front desk. The receptionist cocked an eyebrow, probably not expecting anyone at this late hour.

His hands rested on the counter.

“So, me and a friend are staying in room 444, and I might have seen a few bed bugs on one of the beds.”

Lando winced as he lied. The lady’s eyes widened and she started typing.

“Ok, we’ll have someone come up and inspect it with one of our bug-dogs.”

Another wince. “Is that really necessary? Can we just move rooms?”

Some more typing. “I don’t think that’s possible sir. We have to inspect the room just in case. If it’s all clear, then the room will still be able to be slept in.”

Lando looked around before leaning in slightly.

“Ok, here’s the deal. I’m in love with the friend that I’m staying with. We were supposed to have a room with a single bed so I could make a move. But something happened and we got placed in a room with three beds instead of one. I panicked and lied about the bugs. Is there any way I can just switch rooms? I'll pay extra.”

Lando had hope in his eyes as he heard more typing.

“I’m sorry sir, but there aren’t any more rooms available for tonight. You’ll have to stay in the room you have.”

He hung his head as he nodded.

“Sorry for the inconvenience,” he muttered. When he turned around, he was met with you holding multiple snacks and some drinks. He hoped that you hadn’t heard anything. Thankfully, you didn’t mention his conversation.

As you walked into the elevator you asked, “So do we get to move rooms?”

Lando sighed. “There aren’t any available.”

You chewed on your lip. “Maybe, we can look at the middle bed and see if there are any there?”

He could kiss you right then and there. Lando went quiet for a minute.

“Only if that’s ok with you?”

You immediately nodded.

“I just don’t want any bugs on me. I think you’ll be able to keep me safe.”

The attempt at the wink that followed made Lando laugh as he got off the elevator. You couldn’t help but giggle as you followed him. Lando thought it was the cutest thing he ever heard. When you stepped into the room, you first headed to your luggage to pull it off the “bug infested” bed.

You placed it high on one of the dressers. Lando followed in suit.

Before you knew it, you and Lando were both under the covers of the middle bed after a full inspection that it was safe.

Lando was a bit skeptical that you hadn’t pushed to inspect the bed you were supposed to sleep in. Part of him wanted to believe that you also wanted to share a bed. But he wouldn’t dwell on the thought.

The snacks that you bought were quickly consumed, laughter shared between the two of you as you watched videos on Lando’s phone. You didn’t know exactly when it happened, but your head had started to rest on his shoulder. Lando took this opportunity to put his arm around the back of your neck.

Lando remained oblivious and was sure that this plan was working. You were scared and found sanctuary in his arms.

Except for the fact that you had overheard everything. Your phone was currently buzzing with messages from Oscar but you’d never let Lando know that.

Well.

You sighed as you unattached yourself from Lando’s side. You turned your face so that you could look into his eyes.

Half the time, you didn’t even know what color they were. Some days they were the brightest blue, others they looked more green, and the in the shade they were brown.

You smirked as you got closer.

“So, what did you tell the lady about getting me into your bed hm?”

You watched as a blush invaded Lando’s face before he put his hands over his face. Tik Tok was abandoned on the bedsheets below.

“I’m so sorry,” he muttered. You brought your hands up and peeled his own away from his face. Lando’s eyes flickered as he looked for some type of malice on your face. However, he only saw a smirk and a fiery look. He inhaled sharply.

“I have had a major crush on you since 2019. And when Zac said he’d be pairing people up, I begged him to get a room with one bed for us. We were supposed to switch with Oscar and this room was supposed to only have one bed. But, I guess Zac took it upon himself to already do it so I wouldn’t have to switch, but we did anyway.”

“Lando, I know. You think Oscar could keep a secret for that long?”

The brunet paused, blinked, stared at you, and blinked again.

“I’m going to kill Oscar.”

You giggled, making Lando melt once again.

“You’re not going to kill Oscar.”

A grumble escaped his lips as they turned into a pout. You took this moment to lean down and lightly peck them.

Once again, Lando froze.

“So, should we actually get some sleep?”

He could only nod his head, still not comprehending that you had actually kissed him and his plan worked semi-well.

You turned around and rested your head on the pillow. Just a few moments later, Lando’s arm found a home in the crook of your waist. He gently pulled, bringing your back closer to his chest.

So maybe he didn’t actually sleep shirtless, but that was fine because his head dug into your neck, just at your hairline. Lando breathed in deeply, getting situated.

Maybe the one bed trope did work.

You felt him smirk against your neck, but you thought he was close to sleep.

Until he spoke up.

“Sleep tight Y/n. Don’t let the bed bugs bite.”

“I’m going to murder you instead.”

y/n_l/n has posted

y/n_l/n I let the love bug bite 🐞 🌲

liked by mclaren, lando_norizz, papayaduo, oscarpiastri, and 104,948 others

y/nxlando UHHH HARD LAUNCH??

papaya.nation I knew that sweatshirt looked familiar when they walked in the paddock today!

landonorris4 the fact that he had a back up hoodie as well

formulala_delulu the couple who matches together - stays together 💚

oscarpiastri good to see that it all worked out in the end 😌

y/n_l/n let's not do that again, ok?

landonorris I thought you liked it tho 😙

y/n_l/n let it be know, you don't possess any rizz

oscarpiastri 🫵😂

loscar I need to know the lore behind this

norris4ever maybe he'll get a win now that he doesn't have to pine after y/n

mclaren814 my parents!

TAG LIST: @fionaschicken @myxticmoon @cherry-piee @blueberry64857959 @glitterquadricorn @lizzypiastri @sam-is-lost @spilled-coffee-cup @ilove-tswizzle @the-untamed-soul @allenajade-ite @starssfall @torchbearerkyle @judespoision @halfdeadsage @juniper-july19 @severewobblerlightdragon @thatgirlmj @gods-menace @ineedafictionalman @namgification @dark-night-sky-99 @samantha-chicago @2pagenumb @treehouse-mouse @fangirl125reader @megatrilss1885 @kagatinkita @itsjustkhaos @nikfigueiredo @awekbachira @vellicora @skepvids @sunrizef1 @stan-josie @fanficweasley @hiireadstuff @barcelonaloverf1life @c-losur3 @graciewrote @bruhhhhhhhhehhhhhhh @tallrock35 @ashy-kit @kat-s2 @minkyungseokie @lozzamez3 @leslieis-crying @adventuresofrose @lighttsoutlewis @e-nonsense

#lando norris x you #lando norris x y/n #lando norris imagine #lando norris #lando norris x reader #lando norizz #f1 x driver!reader #f1 x reader #f1 imagine #formula 1 x you #formula 1 x reader #formula 1 imagine #formula one x y/n #formula one x you #formula one x reader #formula one fanfiction #f1 x female reader #f1 x y/n #f1 x you

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somejazzinthemorning · 17 days

Text

snapshot.

Carlos Sainz x Reader [Warnings: overuse of pet names because i'm a romantic, masturbation, mentions of sex. not beta-d so sorry for typos or mistakes ] - Word Count: 1K

you capture a candid photo of your boyfriend sleeping. little do you know, this innocent act sparks some ideas in his mind.

(i needed to do something after i saw him in boyfriend mode taking photos of his girl. hope this is a good way to make my comeback. soon i'll post about the little break I took. love you all. hope you enjoy) 🫶🏼

The morning sun pours its golden rays through the curtains. You wake up with its gentle kiss. The warm glow envelops you, seeming to prickling your naked skin. You find yourself nestled in its embrace, entangled in a sleepy haze, locked in the limbo between dreams and wakefulness.

You sigh as you open your eyes.

The gentle glow of the light dances around you, creating a peaceful ambiance that centers on the man lying next to you. Carlos. His head rests on the pillow; hair falling in disarray over his forehead.

Owning the image before you, your eyes don’t shy away from taking in the whole scene—the slightly parted lips, the shadow of his long eyebrows, the naked chest rising and falling with the rhythm of his slow breaths. There’s a serene vulnerability about him in that morning light, a beauty that begs to be immortalized.

And you know you can’t trust your mind for that. You can’t afford to have time tarnish it.

So you shift in bed and reach for the nightstand where your phone rests, and you aim the camera at Carlos. For a second, it seems a crime to so casually steal that image of beauty and serenity with something as mundane as a touch on a screen. Beauty like that deserves more effort.

Carlos stirs slightly, a fragment of a smile playing on his lips as he mumbles, with his eyes still closed,

“What are you doing?” There’s drowsiness in his voice, laced with a hint of amusement.

“Nothing,” you whisper softly. “You just looked so pretty.”

He smirks and runs his hands over his face. “I should feel violated,” he teases, extending his hands towards you, “My turn, now.”

Handing him the phone, you watch him. His gaze shifts to you with a different glint. You’re sitting on your knees in bed, the sheets around your legs, and nothing but your hair covering your chest. Reclining in bed, he points the camera at you. Instinctively, you cover your chest with your hands, the modesty you still hold translated into something similar to a pose.

Carlos lets out a soft groan. “No, no,” he protests, “you can’t hide those from me.”

“You want a photo of my boobs?”

“Sí, to have it as a keepsake in my wallet.”

You can’t help but roll your eyes and giggle at the sight of him. The sleepy eyes. The messy hair. The ridiculously overly feminine case on your iPhone that looks absurdly small in his big hairy hands. And all of this bathed in the soft glow of morning light and the memories of last night when you loved each other to sleep... God, you feel so lucky to have found this man.

Tilting your head to the photo, a faint smile grazes your lips as your gaze lingers on him, disregarding the phone pointing at you.

“The hair,” he directs.

This time, without even noticing, you were already obeying. You sweep your hair back, leaving the strands to cascade down your back. The soft sound of the clicks locks this moment into eternity. Looking down, you see the streaks of light cutting through your chest, drawing parallel lines over your naked bosom. You pass your fingers over it. Click. You take a deep breath and look in the direction of the light. Click. Your arms stretch over your head, in a casual stretch like you've done any morning, without a camera aiming at you. Click.

When you look back at your boyfriend, he’s smirking.

A mischievous twinkle awakens in his eyes. He’s enjoying this. Probably way more than you.

You let your fingers rest over your lips. Click. And then they hover over your jawline and your neck, which is still sore and probably painted with small hickeys. Click. Patiently, they glide over the curves of your chest with a fatherly touch, a tease enough to make your skin erupt into goosebumps. Before you dare to touch yourself, you look up.

“Do you like this?” His voice cuts the silence. And God, it’s so much deeper than before. “Tell me, love. Do you like having me here… watching you?” You nod. “Go ahead then. Play with them.”

You obey his command, gently pressing your fingertips against the buds on your chest and grazing over your nipples. Without realizing it, you squeeze your legs together. Carlos probably notices it because he moves in his place. When you look up, his hand is cradling his cock over the blanket. The power of his words and the sight of his hand on his cock are enough to make your breath hitch. You intensify your touch, tracing circles around your nipples, feeling them harden under your touch. Click. Your eyes never leave him as you continue to play with yourself, knowing you're putting on a show for him. The thought sends shivers down your spine and makes you wetter than before.

His hand doesn’t move too much, almost like he’s saving himself for you. You can see the tension building in him, the way his muscles are tense and his jaw clenched. It's a game of self-control, and you both know it.

"Spread your legs," he commands in a low voice. You obey without hesitation, spreading your legs wider and giving him a full view of your body. Click. "Fuck," he mutters through gritted teeth. "I want to be inside you."

The mattress shifts, and as you look in his direction, you can see him crawl towards you. His eyes are dark with desire, and there’s a hunger in his gaze that makes your heart race. Reaching for your chest, he kisses the spot your fingers are still pinching. He circles his tongue around your hard nipple, making you shiver, as if an electric current is flowing between the both of you. You arch into his touch, wanting more.

And then his teeth graze over your chest, ever so slightly, before he bites into it, making you gasp and whimper. The combination of pleasure and pain has you gripping the sheets tightly as he continues to tease and torment your sensitive nipples.

His hot breath is fanning over your face as he looks down at you, panting and begging for more. A smirk plays on his lips, knowing he has you right where he wants you. “Such a good girl,” he praises, before leaning in to kiss you again. This time, his tongue is demanding and forceful, exploring every inch of your mouth. You moan into the kiss, your hands reaching up to tangle in his hair as you desperately try to deepen the connection.

His fingers trail down from your chest to your stomach and then lower, slipping between your legs. The other hand keeps holding the phone, registering it. You take a couple of seconds to notice it, but you’re shaking. Burning.

“You’re so wet for me, baby,” he growls, before abruptly pulling away from you and returning to his seat. Arousal is dripping down your thighs as you watch him recline against the headboard. “Go ahead. Touch yourself.”

The memory of his lips and teeth seem to feed your body and arousal. You’re burning. The feeling of the sun on your skin only feeds that feeling. A warm tingling spreads through your chest and down to your core. You slide your fingers down. And God, you’re truly wet. You didn’t realize how hot this little game had turned you. You push your knees further apart, which earns a satisfied groan from your boyfriend.

"Do you want a photo of that too?" he asks.

You nod eagerly, feeling the heat radiating off your body. Without losing eye contact with him, you slide your fingers down to your throbbing center, spreading your folds and teasing yourself with light touches. His eyes are dark and intense as he watches you pleasure yourself under his gaze.

"Fuck," he groans, snapping another photo of your hand between your legs. You moan at the sound of his voice. "I love watching you, baby. You look so pretty."

Carlos repositions the phone to make you be right at the center. It’s a masterpiece. Your body fits perfectly within the frame of the phone. Your skin taken by the streaks of light, golden sunshine gilding your naked body almost like blessing the pleasure you're implying on yourself. You’d later learn that you looked unreal in those photos—something pulled out of a painting, shadows and light in perfect harmony. But in that moment, you just felt needy and desperate.

"Can I move?" You ask, your voice shaking with need.

"You can do what the fuck you want, baby," Carlos replies, his eyes never leaving you as he slides out of bed. You feel a surge of confidence and power as you take his spot, spreading your legs wide.

Your fingers slide over your wet lips, teasing yourself with light touches. Carlos sits at the end of the bed, watching intently. The sunlight streaming through the window catches on your juices and they sparkle in the light.

Your eyes meet his, and he nods encouragingly. You let out a breathy moan as you start to move your fingers in circles over your clit. The pleasure builds quickly within you, and you hear Carlos let out a low growl.

You slide two fingers inside of yourself, the wetness making it easy for them to slip in. You let out a loud moan around your fingers, imagining they're Carlos' instead. The thought of him filling you up makes your walls clench around your fingers.

You can feel yourself getting closer and closer to the edge, but you want Carlos with you. "Carlos," you cry out his name, hoping he'll join in and take over where your fingers are currently working.

But he doesn't move from his spot at the end of the bed. He continues to watch you with dark eyes, his hand still hovering over his erection but not touching it.

You can see the longing in his gaze and it only fuels your desire further. You want him desperately, to be taken by him until all sense is lost.

You call out to him again, pleading for his presence and touch. You long for him. His hand tightens around his erection as he struggles to hold onto control. Your eyes lock with his, and he lets out a small laugh of helplessness.

"Use your words, baby," he grunts. "Tell me what you want."

"Please, come here."

"Not yet."

"Can I?... Please? Can I cum?"

"Yes. Go ahead. Give in for me."

You comply, arching your back and pushing your hips forward. Your fingers glide in and out of your body at a rapid pace, your breaths becoming shallow and erratic. Carlos' gaze never wavers from you, and the sound of his gentle moans fills the room.

Climax is imminent.

You can feel it building, a searing warmth spreading through your veins, threatening to consume you completely. You know you're on the edge, but you want to prolong this moment, revel in the pleasure of it all.

When you open your eyes, he's standing by your side. The camera is focused on your face, but his eyes? His eyes are fixed on yours. All his attention is on you.

"I'm—," you gasp, meeting his gaze, your voice barely audible. “I'm so close.”

“I know, my love,” he whispers. Click. “Let yourself go for me.”

As the words leave his lips, you feel yourself start to unravel. Your body trembles with ecstasy as your orgasm crashes over you like a tidal wave. You let out a guttural moan, your fingers still working their magic on your slick folds. It hits you like a wave, stealing your breath and lifting you higher, as you cry out his name and arch your back, almost like being pulled towards him by an invisible force. The camera continues to click as your body convulses, capturing every bit of your ecstasy, your face twisting into a mix of pain and pleasure.

As you come down from your high, you're aware of Carlos moving around the room. The bed dips slightly, and then he's beside you, his hand reaching out to touch your sweat-damp skin.

“Can you take me now?,” your voice low. “Please?”

Had this one in my mind all day so I just needed to sit down and write it down before it would vanish. I know I've been MIA, but I see all the support you keep giving me. You're all incredible. Hope you enjoyed this one silly thing. As always, all feedback is appreciated. 🫶

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stupidfuckingwindow · 21 days

Text

Driver WIP fic

Content/warnings: Driver jerks off in his car while thinking about you. Little bit of a scent kink. Abrupt ending; I had no idea where to end this one.

Notes: I've had this one in the drafts for so long and just need to put it out there before I go nuts. Sorry I haven't been writing much 😭. Not proofread. This might not be good LMAO

Word count: 850

Driver thought a lot about you, didn't he? From harboring the idea of possibly finally settling down with you, to wondering if you were alright when he was away, Driver constantly worried about you. So much so that he found himself breaking into your apartment and leaving traces of himself while stealing bits of you that he'd return later. This time, he'd left his gloves in exchange for the shirt in your basket. One you hadn't washed yet, but had meant to.

It still smells like you. Your skin and your soap, from the previous night. Grabbing the article of clothing had been risky, and Driver was almost caught when you had come home early. He'd been forced to duck under your bed and wait almost an hour for you to leave.

Now, he sits in his car, not too far from your apartment. The engine turned off, and your bedroom window directly in sight. Already, it's dark out. Light rain on the windshield, orange street lights on, and your silhouette in the shutters, pulling clothes off your form while he watches. He feels dirty, doing so. Driver knows it's wrong, but can't stop himself. Too busy trying to imagine your bare skin under him, wondering what you look like. He can vividly see himself holding your wrists together to keep you still- Pressing kisses along your torso while you squirm and buck.

Before he knows it, you're gone from the window and his jeans are uncomfortably tight, much more than they were before he started daydreaming.

Driver chews at his inner cheek, and the point of the toothpick between his lips is lightly poking at his tongue. Uncomfortable, but not painful. His hand drops from the key where it's slotted perfectly inside the ignition, but not turned. His gloved palm rests on his thigh, the back of his head pressed against the seat's cushioning. Warmth escapes the soft porous brown leather and settles over his leg, hard to ignore. Faintly, he can smell the leather conditioner he uses- Pine tar and mint filling his nostrils. It's earthy and pleasant, and Driver can't help but wonder if you'd like it.

Internally, he debates with himself for a minute. If it'd be right, to deal with his arousal in your parking lot, when you might just come out and finally catch him fucking his fist like a teenager with his first crush. The thought doesn't exactly deter Driver, like he'd hoped it would. No, he wants to be caught. Finally be given an answer and settle his thoughts. What if you want him? If you weren't repulsed by his habit and thoughts of you. He isn't sure what he'd do if you said yes, taken the toothpick from his lips and pulled him into a kiss. Then again, that's another fantasy. He's sure he'd figure something out if he actually were caught.

Driver doesn't plan on that happening, however.

Slowly, he tugs his zipper down and shifts forward in his seat. His legs instinctively spread as he sits back and forces himself to relax. Driver's eyes flutter shut when he works on pulling off his belt, and open again when it's off, tossed into the passenger's seat beside him. They find themselves back at your window, and he silently hopes he'll see you again tonight, even if through closed blinds. That maybe, just maybe, he'll get to watch you dry off from the shower and get dressed.

Long, calloused fingers finally draw his cock out of his boxers and relieve the pressure against the head. Driver faintly sighs, brows knitted together as his attention drifts down.

He wraps his right hand around his erection, hissing at the cold air on his newly-exposed skin. A strand of hair falls from it's usual neat spot, distractingly getting in the way of his eyes. He forces himself to ignore the slight inconvenience, starting himself off with a couple lazy strokes to warm up. The rough texture of his gloves against his cock is one he's familiar with- Just one more way for Driver to pretend he's with you, instead of alone.

His hips shift forward in the seat, chasing what little pleasure he finds, and Driver squeezes his eyes shut. A shuddering breath leaves his throat, followed by a soft hiss when he squeezes himself a little too harshly. His fingers ball up the fabric of your shirt tightly, dragging it close to his face and deeply inhaling. Your scent clings to it, drawing a soft moan from Driver as he revels in the closeness. God, the idea of being this close to you.

The imagines pulling it off your form, slow and deliberate as he reveals more skin. Tracing your scars with his thumb and nipping at your thighs. He wants to suck at your flesh, lap the blood from your cuts and fuck you with his fingers while teasing you.

Driver groans at the thought, hips bucking against his hand before he stops himself short of an early orgasm. Quietly, he pants, cursing himself out in the deepest pits of his mind.

#ryan gosling #n.sfw.#ryan gosling x reader #driver #drive (2011)#the driver #ryan gosling drive #drive #driver x reader #driver smut #driver x you

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ken-dom · 2 months

Text

Everything Looks Better When The Sun Goes Down

Driver x afab!reader

3k words

∘₊✧ Summary: Getaways usually come with a strong dose of adrenaline. He can usually deal with it himself, but this time a far more thrilling prospect presents itself.

∘₊✧ Authors notes: I wrote this well over a month ago, and finally decided to dust it off and post, with encouragement from K, with whom the Driver conversation is never-ending and delicious! I would advise caution because he's kinda creepy in this one (compared to how I’ve written him before). Title from Make Me Wanna Die by The Pretty Reckless.

∘₊✧ Warnings/content: NSFW, dubious consent, masturbation, fingering, sex, glove kink, kissing kink, just a dash of sneaky, creepy, stalker-y Driver

∘₊✧─────────────────────✧₊∘

Driver’s leather-covered fingers tightened with a creak of resistance against the steering wheel. He might know the roads like the back of his hand, but being the getaway driver comes with the occupational hazard of not actually being able to control what your chasers will do, no matter how clever and thorough your plan.

Even if you’ve seen every trick in the book. Even if you have something of a sixth sense for predicting their movements.

Surprises can’t always be avoided, and tonight he was doing his best to get out of a surprise.

This had been just a touch more complicated to plot than his usual getaway routine. Locations hadn’t been quite as simple to pin down so timings would be off and he couldn’t have that. The only alternative was to alter his default plan of action only very slightly, yet the risks, apparently, tripled.

Or maybe Driver had just been unlucky.

He had kicked out the two masked men he had been hired to drive, easily getting rid of them en route as part of the plan, sticking to time down to the second, and then embarking on the more unusual part two, which simply required Driver to get himself away and hide the car somewhere different to where he’d hidden them. The route was meticulously added to his map, the hiding spots checked, double and triple checked, ahead of time.

Yet, despite the police radio suggesting they’d lost sight of tonight’s unassuming car of choice, the cops had picked back up, hot on Driver’s trail the moment he pulled back out onto the main streets.

He didn’t bat an eyelid at first. He knew what he was doing, after all; this wasn’t his first car chase by a long stretch. If he wanted to ‘wing it,’ he could. Easily. But he would never. He would simply go about the bulletproof backup plan designed for the event that this unlikely situation would come to fruition. All was fine.

Except that he really couldn’t seem to shake them. Every move he made, it was as though they’d read his mind and were one step ahead. It wouldn’t have been possible, but it was as if they somehow seen his detailed maps. They were only for his eyes though, and if anyone ever did see them… well. He would have to make it so that they remained only for his eyes.

Whatever was going on here, it seemed almost like someone was out to get him personally. His jaw clenched at the thought and his heart began to slam against his chest, breathing fast and ragged.

He tried to refocus. On the road, on the soft interior of his jacket against his arms. On the toothpick almost chewed in two between his teeth.

There were limited options at this point, and he was running out of ideas, running out of streets to slip down before they could predict his next action.

Driver firmly reminded himself to stick to the facts and ignore his physical response. He was still ahead. Just.

Actually, he was nearing your house. Oh…

No.

He shouldn’t distract himself, but it was hard not to notice that he’d pulled onto your street almost by muscle memory alone and he wondered if you’d see him, followed by that one police car that he was sure would soon be two, then three, sirens blazing.

It was darker down here. Residential, with parked cars dotted up and down the road, canopied with large leafy trees that blocked out the moonlight, too. So he killed his headlights and slowed down to avoid attracting any additional unwanted attention.

His ears pricked up as the discussion on the radio started up again in place of relaying the names of the streets they were chasing him down; they’d lost him again.

Just like last time they lost him. But they had found him as soon as he resurfaced, and he couldn’t sit out here on your street all night in plain view, no matter how unsuspecting the car may look to your neighbours.

A little blue Honda rattled by and he flinched.

Come on. Get a grip, he scolded himself.

His head began to pound.

He needed to find somewhere new to hide the car properly, and hide himself while he was at it. Fast. Somewhere he could stay for long enough that they’d really give up this time.

Another thought struck him and he blinked hard. He had to regain some self control. But your house was approaching on the right.

He couldn’t. Could he?

His eyes scanned the street. There were no other Hondas. No other moving vehicles. He couldn’t see anyone peering out of their windows into the dark street.

Then he found the end of your driveway, visible in the near distance. Your garage door was up. No car. You were out. Perfect.

No. He couldn’t.

Fuck. He was going to have to.

Besides, if anything did come of this, he could keep you safe. He was sure of that. No harm would ever come to you on his watch. Ever.

He slowly pulled onto your driveway and rolled the car to a gentle stop inside the garage, winding down the driver side window to punch the button on the wall that controlled the garage door. With a low hum and a light clicking, it swung down and locked into place with a soft clunk.

Complete darkness. The purr of the engine. And then, the crackle of the police radio.

Driver tensed, every bit of focus honed in on the voices coming through the small device.

With a note of three identifiable items: the car colour, model and number plate (two of which could easily be altered), and a reminder of where it was last seen (the next street along from this one), they’d officially given up the chase.

He relaxed into his seat, slumping down and stretching his long legs as far as they could lengthen in the confinement of the footwell, spreading his knees and dropping his head back against the headrest.

He would need to stay here for now, but that was manageable.

He killed the engine, trying to force his breath even and steady himself before he got out.

Although it had been tough, now it was over, he couldn’t deny that it had been exciting. There was rarely a time it wasn’t.

He felt a stirring in his core, the familiar thrill that ran through his trembling body every time he got away, high on adrenaline and filled with self satisfaction.

And he did get away. Every time. But this time? It had been a closer call than any he could remember and he was shaking, excitement coursing through his veins, sending all his blood south to throb between his spread thighs.

He chuckled, smirking and dropping his hands to his lap from where they were still bracing, tight storing the steering wheel. His breath caught in his throat as one palm slowly teased higher up his thigh.

It was becoming painful to sit here in these too-tight jeans, the denim rough against his leaking cock, and he hissed as he dragged his palm over the thrumming bulge that had formed inside them the moment he knew he was safe.

He felt a particularly thick drop of precum leak from his tip, gasping at the short lived relief his wandering hand had provided, gloved fingers now flying to unbuckle his belt and unbutton his jeans and free his aching length, all patience out the window. It didn’t matter how long it took. He just needed the release.

But as the first button popped undone, his ears pricked up at the unmistakable sound of tires rolling onto your driveway behind that garage door. He froze, heart racing, cock twitching, every sense heightened almost painfully.

He relaxed when he heard your car door slam shut, the sound of your shoes on the gravel. He’d know those sounds anywhere. He knew all the sounds you made – he’d studied you enough – and had an entire catalogue of them stored away safely in the back of his mind.

Hastily, he reached for the radio and flipped the switch back on. Nothing. Nothing about him, anyway. Nothing about you. You were safe even with him locked away inside your garage.

He heard your keys jingling against the lock of your front door, knowing you were inside once it had clicked shut and the jingle was muffled.

He breathed a long, shaky sigh of relief.

Seconds later, his personal cell buzzed from inside his jacket pocket.

One hand resting still against the denim covering his aching hard on, he fished his phone out and unlocked it, absentmindedly rubbing his fingertips over his length and whimpering when he saw your name on the screen above the message you’d sent.

‘Hey, babe… you up?’

Another thick pearl of precum.

Fuck. He could hide in here all night, sexting with you from just the next room, or…

He didn’t bother fastening up his belt or that one button he’d opened when he swung the car door open and jumped out, biting back a moan at the friction of his jeans settling, slightly looser and more comfortable, against his cock as he stood.

He knew where you kept your spare key, and the combination on the safety box that kept it hidden, so he retrieved it and let himself in through the internal garage door that led to your kitchen.

Driver was silent. Barely a sound as he crept through the house, knowing every floorboard and the placement of every piece of furniture down to the millimetre.

The house was dark, which made it easy for him. You’d only switched on one lamp since you returned; the one in the hallway where you still stood, hanging up your jacket and waiting for him to reply.

Your phone laid unlocked on the sideboard, opened to the message you’d sent him as you slipped off your shoes, eagerly awaiting his reply.

‘Come on,’ you breathed needily at your screen, ‘start typing!’ — and Driver swallowed hard.

He stuck to the shadows as he watched you, from the kitchen doorway, careful not to let his breathing turn too heavy, and certainly not above stroking himself over his jeans a couple of times just for the thrill of it.

You threw your shoes in the cupboard and picked up your phone again, checking to see if he was typing yet, and upon seeing that he wasn’t even online right now, you heaved a disappointed breath.

He might not have typed a reply, but he was ready to answer you.

‘I’m up,’ he breathed, hot against the back of your neck and you jumped, but his arms wrapped tight around yours, keeping you from fighting back, and he pulled you close as he breathed you in.

The still-gloved fingers of one of his hands hand toyed with the neckline of your shirt, ghosting around your throat as the other thrust unceremoniously into your jeans and dragged through your folds.

Even with his gloves on, he could tell you were already soaked.

It took you a terrifying moment, but your instinctual fear subsided, quickly replaced with burning arousal when you felt his cock pressing into your back, smelled his familiar scent, felt his glove teasing at your throat.

‘You are up,’ you sighed, reaching behind yourself to snake a hand between your flush bodies and drag your palm over his length in time with the fingers so precisely massaging your clit, and you moaned. Loud.

Driver’s knees felt like they might give out.

‘Mmmh-’ he hummed into your ear, ‘s-stop- fuck-’

You grinned, smug as ever about how easy he was to unravel, and at the wet patch you’d felt seeping through his thick jeans.

Despite the heat rapidly pooling at your core, you didn’t think on it for long, because any coherent thought was immediately pushed out of your mind when his hands left your core and throat, instead gripping your shoulders and spinning you to face him, slamming you back against the wall, his lips crashing onto yours with bruising force.

He pushed a thigh between your legs, pressing firmly against your heat and you moaned, muffled by his mouth as his tongue dragged hungrily against yours. Driver was always such a needy kisser, so passionate and intense and it made your head spin. But this was something else.

You gripped him hard, moaning and writhing against him, and he shuddered at your reaction, whining against your lips before fully pulling away to focus on freeing his cock.

Slightly dizzy, you removed your own trousers as fast as you could, hooking a leg around his waist as he shoved his wet jeans down and pushed forward, lifting you in his strong arms to help you clamp your other leg around his waist.

His eyes slid closed as he felt your slick against his cock, trying with all his might not to spill his release before he’d fucked you. The adrenaline was still so fresh, spurred on by breaking in and sneaking up on you, that he could hear his blood pumping in his ears. He felt almost invincible; but he knew that with just one eager and misguided move he would cum, ending it all too soon.

No. He needed to feel you around him. Feel you clench with need. Hear you scream. Fill you up.

He closed his eyes to refocus.

Now you were pinned between him and the wall, he slipped a hand down to guide himself to your entrance, a simultaneous relieved groan from both of you echoing around your entrance hall as he slid himself inside.

He stilled for a moment, composing himself, forehead pressed to yours because he knew that a kiss, even a soft and tender exchange, would break him.

He also knew that right now, one thrust and it would be over for him, so he moved his fingers up, massaging your clit in slow, precise circles, as though this was all designed purely to give you time to adjust.

Your head dropped back and you squirmed, trying to fuck yourself on him as his fingers sent wave after wave of shuddering bliss through your body. The angle was delicious, but balanced around his waist you couldn’t move enough to get what you needed.

‘Please,’ you begged, ‘fuck me- please-’

Driver growled, low and dark, against your throat. He could never resist giving you exactly what you wanted, and he could feel your walls tightening around him already. A low groan tore from his throat. You were close too.

Sicko, he thought. Like it when I break in and sneak up behind you? Shove a hand in your pants to try and get you off before you even realise it’s me?

Keeping his fingers against your throbbing bundle of nerves, he fucked you alright. Hard and fast and unrelenting, hips snapping frantically as he whimpered and gasped weakly into the thick air filling the inch between your mouths.

It was too late to stop his orgasm approaching. He’d been simmering for too long, and the way you’d kissed him, the way you’d begged him, the way you got wet just from him acting like a creep… his head was spinning.

The way he was fucking you, unceasing and intense, had you clawing at his jacket, wishing he’d taken it off so you could feel more of him, but there was no time. You pushed your fingers up to slide through his soft, neat hair instead, and he shuddered against you, biting down on his bottom lip. His blood boiled.

Fuck it. He smashed his lips back onto yours, tears pricking his eyes.

He finally spilled inside you, cock pulsing through his release. He squeezed his eyes shut, painfully aware you hadn’t cum yet, but his fingers on your clit hadn’t ceased, and as his cock began to soften, sensitive with aftershocks, he felt you clench tight around him. Your fingertips scraped against his scalp and your legs tightened around his waist and you cried out, loud and strangled, bucking your hips wildly as you chased your release.

Driver’s eyes welled with the tears he couldn’t bite back, dropping onto your shirt.

As you came down from your high, you stroked his hair back into place and slipped down from your position, standing on wobbly legs, head spinning, and Driver propped himself up with an arm against the wall, caging you in.

Your palm grazed his cheek, a tender thumb wiping his tears away.

He leant into your touch, eyes closed and breath slowing all the while.

‘So it was you who closed my garage door?’ you whispered, and he nodded against your palm. ‘Naughty boy,’ you added, teasing.

He looked up at you through the most stunning, sparkling, wet eyes and you knew you’d never stay mad for long – especially not when he fucked you so good and unravelled for you so easily.

‘Been on a job, baby?’ you cooed.

He nodded against your palm again.

‘Gonna jerk off in my garage until I arrived home and ruined the moment?’

Driver stiffened, eyes wide as he considered you, awed at the way you understood how his mind worked. Against his better judgement, he nodded, slowly.

‘Filthy boy,’ you added with a playful smirk. ‘Glad you found me instead, though.’

‘Yeah?’ he managed, weak and quiet, voice cracking.

‘Yeah. I fucking love it when you try so hard not to cum right away.’

His brow furrowed, but you hooked your fingers under his chin and lifted his gaze back to you, softly pressing your lips to his once again.

He whimpered, feeling weak, but he needed this more than anything after the rush. He was crashing, fast and needed comfort. Safety.

‘Wanna get into bed and make out until we fall asleep?’

Driver’s heart skipped, and he nodded again. It wasn’t always a bad thing to feel like someone was reading his mind.

#not s f w 💀#driver x reader #driver smut #drive 2011 #drive (2011)#ryan gosling x reader #ryan gosling #drive fic #driver x reader fic #drive smut #driver x you #driver x y/n #driver x reader smut #ryan gosling x y/n #ryan gosling x you #ryan gosling fic #ryan gosling smut #ken-dom writes

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tracksidequeen · 2 years

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When Hearts find a Home

Summary: During a trip you meet Toto; the tall, dark and handsome stranger that sweeps you off your feet. Little does he know there is more to you than you let on, but suddenly the pieces of the puzzle fall right into place.

Cw: (dad!)toto x single!mom!reader, 18+ scenes, talk of past death and mourning, mentions of alcohol, second chances at love and romance.

Words: 12.9K

*****

Parents aren’t the people you come from. They’re the people you want to be, when you grow up.

Those were the reassuring words your mother told you after you sat down with her and told her that you decided to open up again for the first time since the loss of your dear fiancé. Open yourself up to the world, open up your life and heart to new people and experiences. For the first time in three years you were ready to stop yourself from sheltering away and take a step outside. Smell the roses, feel the rain fall on your face, hear the birds sing, and let the vibrant colours of the rainbow soar through your soul. You realised that for too long you had been denying yourself the simple pleasures of life, feeling guilty of letting even the smallest sensation of happiness enter your body, as you’d be feeling it without him. The world isn’t complete without André, leaving behind an empty space in your life no one can ever refill, yet you had to live on and cope with it all? For years you didn’t know how, but recently you’ve learned to accept that the empty space in your heart is a testament to the love you have felt and will continue to feel forever more, and that of all people, he would have wanted you to be happy and move on eventually. To finally make peace with it and make peace with yourself.

Parents are the people you want to be when you grow up, but the person you had been was not the person you want Gaby to look up to. It had been you and Gaby against the world ever since André left. You had been strong for him for so long. Fighting through life, giving him all that he needed and wanted and beyond, no matter at what cost. That is the true love of a mother. Making him happy when he’s sad, giving him hope when he was down, and making him feel loved when he felt alone, even if it meant sacrificing your own well being at times. He was your reason to live on, he was your purpose and for Gaby you would’ve done anything. You were there for him, you were strong for him, but now it was time for you to be happy. Not for him, but for yourself. To let Gaby see that his mommy can have a smile on her face that is not solely caused by something he had done or said, that mommy can be joyful on her own, despite the heartaches life had thrown at you. This is what he needs, and what you need.

“Honey, when was the last time you’ve been on a vacation? Went to a club? Went out with your girlfriends? A lavish dinner perhaps? Tell me..” Your mom looked at you waiting for your answer, but she knew what it would be. “Mom, come on. What do you expect?” You shake your head frustrated. “I have work. I have to take care of Gaby. I have to be responsible-. “Yes, yes, I understand, but that’s exactly it. You can be responsible and enjoy your life. Go out, have fun, see the world!” She stands up and walks to the glass sliding door overviewing the backyard where Gaby was playing with a shovel as a make-belief sword, mumbling under his breath how he was fighting ninja’s to cross the yard to an unknown island, the cutdown tree trunk on which your dad used to cut wood for the fireplace when you were little. “Look at him. There was a time you used to be excited about the unknown, desperate to learn new things and not afraid to fall down only to then stand back up again and try it all over. Honey, please, stand back up,” she says and looks back at you. “And try it all over.” Tears were forming in your eyes because her words made sense but they felt nearly impossible and out of reach. After years of mourning, how could you possibly? “Mom, please. How can I try it over when I miss him every day.” She walked back to you and placed her arms around you. “I don’t mean love, honey. I mean life.”

She was right. Her words ran through your head on your way back home. You had to stop denying yourself the joy of life because you were afraid of feeling guilt. You’ve gone through too much, you deserve to be happy. You look at Gaby in the rear-view mirror peacefully asleep, “we can make this work Rambo,” you whispered softly to him. “You and me against the world.” The moment you got home and put Gaby to bed you FaceTimed your friends to rant about the day with your mother, trying to find consolidation in their sympathy for you, but you were getting none of that. Immediately they were siding with your mom telling you how much you needed to get out and live a little. They threw at you the most lavish vacation plans; fancy resorts, exotic islands all excited to finally have you on board with their plans and celebrate your ‘re-birth.’ That’s what Nova called it, a ‘re-birth’; and they were determined to give you the best time you can ever have. Suddenly the word Monaco dropped, and the whole chat blew up to the point that you couldn’t distinguish voices anymore. Safe to say that everyone was excited about that option. “Yes, I’ll get on board with that. Not too far away, doesn’t sound risky. Maybe not the cheapest option but-” All your friends interrupted you with what you could make out as comments that ‘you can’t put a price tag on a good time,’ and that ‘risk is what we’re going for.’ “Whatever, let’s go girls!! We’re going to Monaco!”

“Bye mommy!” Gaby hugs you around your legs and you lift him up. “I will be back before you know it Rambo. Until then, Gammy will take good care of you and if you miss me just say so and we will call.” Tears form in your eyes, never had you been away from your son for this long. You were ready, but not for the goodbye’s “Come on honeybun, wave mommy goodbye. If we wait a little longer she’ll refuse to go!” your mom took Gaby out of your arms before you placed one last big kiss on his temple. He starts giggling at the big fuss you’re making and Gammy telling you off, and with the sound of his laughter in the background you say goodbye one more time and close the door behind you. As the cab drives away you see Gaby and you mom perched on the living room windowsill waving you goodbye, and you blow them a kiss. You’re leaving as the shell of a person you once were, but are determined to come back as the best version you can ever be. To find yourself again. Ready for a second chance at the life you so very much deserve.

Like vultures your friends swarm around you the moment you arrive at the airport terminal and their loud screeches ring like an alarm announcing the commence of the vacation. You’re here with a bunch of wild women who are determined to show you a good time and you love them for it. The whole flight they were asking you what you were most excited about, and when you answered them with ‘laying by the pool’ you were sure that they were ready to throw you out of the plane if they could, so you quickly changed your answer to ‘the white party of course!’ That was more like it, their faces illuminated with excitement, right away discussing what you all were going to wear, how you’d style your hair and imagining what the party will be like. The first few days in Monaco had been a blessing, your friends all making it a ‘hot-girl’ summer vacation, dressing up in your fanciest outfits, going to the most amazing restaurants, visiting the most expensive stores where you could probably only afford the wrapping paper. Not even. But it was amazing and all you could’ve ever hoped for. It felt like you were immersed into a fairytale of champagne and stilettos, ice sculptures and fast cars. None of it seemed real.

“Honey I love you,” you say to Gaby on FaceTime as you’re getting ready for the white party. “Look mommy, look what I made!” Gaby pulled up a sheet of paper with some scribbles which he explained were you in Monaco on your vacation. Apparently he had been bragging to his friends that his mommy went on a fancy trip to the sun and drew it as proof. “Wow that’s so pretty, and what is that?” There was nothing in particular you were referring to but it gave him the opportunity to talk about what he liked the most about his drawing and to see the smile on his face as he spoke filled you heart with a happiness only a mother can understand. He made you whole. But only a mother can understand, and so can your own. Suddenly you hear your own mom interrupt the conversation to not let you linger on because she saw what you were doing. “Mommy has to go honeybun, love you, kiss, kiss, kiss, enjoy and please do all the things I told you not to do when you were younger!” “Alright, calm down now mom!” you laugh. “Sleep tight Rambo, I’ll see you tomorrow again!” “Bye mommy, I’m going to miss you.” “I miss you too sweetie, love you to the moon and back.”

You hung up after blowing them a kiss. “Ready?!” you hear Emma scream from the other room. “Ready!!” you jump up, and walk into the suite of the hotel room. Hair done, make-up perfect, outfit magnificent, you were ready to let loose and get wild. Within your own boundaries so to say... but nonetheless. “Holy shit, hot momma alert! Look. at. you.” Emma looked you up and down in your white silk dress, hair done up so the backless detail of the dress stands out. “You’ll 100% score yourself a billionaire daddy with that outfit.” You gasp with a hysterical laugh, “NOVA!!” But Emma sides with nove, “she’s not lying though...” Before leaving you all took a shot, and as you stumbled out of the hotel you saw an enormous white limousine ready to pick you up. “We will make an entrance no one will ever forget,” Nova said as she fumbled with the crock of the champagne bottle once you all entered the limo. Unexpectedly the bottle pops and clumsily she pours the glasses of champagne and Nova raises it for a toast. “Here’s to the re-birth of our beloved friend. May she find happiness, peace, and most importantly, may she find herself. And maybe a one-night-stand, because what’s life without good dick. Cheers!” “CHEERS!” Emma repeats. “You guys are idiots, but ‘cheers!’” you raise your glass and gulp it down ready to start the night.

This is nothing like you’d imagine it’d be. You pull up at the venue seeing flashing lights of pictures being taken on the white carpet. Everywhere you look you see diamonds, glitter and pearly white smiles, music playing in the background, people talking over each other as they make their way inside. It was a chaos, an organised glamorous chaos, and it felt nothing near real. But it was everything you ever wanted. You step out of the car and hear the photographers scream directions at you and your friends of how you could pose for the pictures, “Stunning!” “Look over your shoulder!” “Yes, just like that.” “Work it girls!” “Lovely!” Once you made your way inside it didn’t feel less unreal. The Great Gatsby-esque lavishness was visible in all the details. There were swan-lake ballerina’s dancing in what appeared to be a lake of diamonds, string quartets playing from the balconies inside the building, the most expensive glasses of champagne were served by waiters that looked like they walked out of a high fashion runway show. The buzz you felt was exhilarating. It had been a long while since you’ve felt so alive.

With your arms locked in those of Nova and Emma you prance your way through the rumbling crowd to explore the insanely large venue. Flabbergasted your eyes peer across the marble walls, crystal chandeliers and ice sculptures. Suddenly you were snapped out of your wonder when Nova felt a hand on her shoulder and you all turned around, “can I offer you lovely ladies a drink? No one should be here without a drink in their hand.” Nova giggled after he winked at her. “I can never say no to such a lovely offer, of such a wonderful man.” If you didn’t hold yourself in you could’ve literally barfed in your own mouth. There was nothing lovely about his offer, and even less wonderful about him; with his small frame, greasy slicked back blond hair, and a voice that sounded like he missed puberty. He was probably rich enough that his money made up for it, but it was a hard pass for you. Nonetheless, you walked along with them since Nova seemed to like the attention he gave her and you all got the drinks you were promised. There are worse things in the world after all.

Who would’ve known. Two hours later and the man that made the moves on Nova hours earlier still stuck around and had introduced you all to his friends. The music picked up the pace and with people getting drunker by the minute the dance floor opened up on which everyone let out their demons. After downing another glass of champagne you make your way to the dance floor letting yourself go to the best throwback summer tunes and swing into Emma’s arms. You whisper in her ear to look at her right, where Nova was dancing with John in a not very pg way, clearly having the time of her life grinding her ass against him, as she should. You drunkenly cheered them on but for some reason his friends took that as a sign that you were in desperate need of dance partners as well, so they reached out their arms to offer Emma and you a dance. Emma gracefully accepted and twirled in the arms of the tall stranger, but you awkwardly declined. “I have to use the bathroom, sorry, one second,” you replied and padded his shoulder. “Are you okay?” Emma asked you worried as she was holding on to the arm of the guy she was dancing with. “Yes, yes, enjoy girl! I’ll be fine and my live-location is on, I’m just going to walk around for a bit,” you reassured her with a smile and stumbled your way out of the dancing crowd.

You grab a glass of champagne from the ober’s tray and make your way out of the main venue hall into the large corridor. Everything here was grand. Tall ceilings with enormous marble pillars with the most beautiful detailing. At the end of the corridor a grand staircase with white silk wrapped around the hand-railing and draping from the walls in theme of the party. Your heels click on the marble tiling as you make your way up headed nowhere, and you walk into another grand hallway. What could this place have been? You trace your hand across the brick wall while you walk through the hallway out into an outside patio with a balcony overlooking the Monegasque harbour. The twinkling city lights, the muffled music from the party, and clear skies and starry night fill every fibre of your body. It felt like you were in a fairytale, where the only thing missing was your prince charming on his white steed. You take a deep breath, letting all your senses experience the moment as it is. The fresh sea air fills your nose, the soothing summer breeze hugs your skin coated with a warm hue from the booze, your ears fill with the city sounds, music from the party and footsteps. Footsteps? Who is-?

“What are you doing here?” A stern unfamiliar voice rings through your ears and immediately you turn around at his harsh intonation. You see the shadowy outline of a large man, but you’re unable to clearly see his features in the dimmed lights. “Oh I was just about to leave. Sorry I was just looking around and-” “No, please, don’t leave, I was just worried you were lost or weren’t feeling well. That’s all.” He makes his way up to you finally exposing his features in the light. A gentle smile on his face contrasting his tall intimidating posture and broad shoulders, the creases in his face and his roughed up long dark hair. His sole presence made you warm inside, how he walked up to you with such charisma. “No, I’m okay, maybe a bit lost, but who isn’t, right?” A deep chuckle escaped his mouth, “right, who isn’t.” You smile at him and look back out at the harbour not knowing what to say or do next, letting a silence fall between you both. He leans against the stone balcony railing and as you’re looking up at the stars, in the corner of your eye, you see him look at you.

“You look like a goddess.” He breaks the silence looking you up and down, and you give him a shy smile before looking at the floor as your cheeks heat up. “You know, I’ve had my eyes on you from the moment you’ve arrived. The way you were posing in front of those cameras. When you walked in and stole everyone’s attention. Your beauty is criminal.” You lock eyes with him and it might have been the booze or the fact that for the first time in years you felt beautiful again, but the words just poured out of your mouth. “Well prepare to be locked up because you’ll be my accomplice tonight.” You take a step closer in his direction, and as you stand right in front of him you look up to not break eye contact. Suddenly you realise he’s taller than you’d expected as he towered over you with a certain dominance. “I’ll bail us out if needed, so don’t you dare hold back. I’ll be your partner in crime.” He delicately tucked a strand of hair behind your ear and leaned in to kiss your cheek. Delicately. Soft, warm lips coated your skin. Slowly you kiss him back and he lingers close to you as you press butterfly kisses back on his cheek, down to his jaw and on his neck. He wraps his arms around you to pull you in closer and you feel his fingers trace your bare back from your shoulders down your spine making shivers soar through your body.

He smelled of expensive musky perfume and fresh linen, his touch was rough but gentle, his voice harsh but mellow. He was a walking contradiction and you had no idea what to do, as his kisses, his touch and his admiration made you feel both special and lonely at the same time. His hands traced further down as your kisses reached his soft lips, but suddenly all emotions came crashing down. “I’m sorry,” you say as you push him away and swat his hands off your lower back. “I can’t do this.” Immediately he raised his hands in the air to imply he had no bad intention and he took a step back. “Shit, I’m sorry, did I do something you didn’t want?” You shake your head and pinch the bridge of your nose and shake your head confused as you try to scramble your thoughts together. “No, it was perfect- it’s not you, it’s just-“ “You know what, let's start over,” he says with a sweet voice, and reaches out his hand.

“Hi, my name is Toto. You caught my eye and I was just wondering what you were doing in town.” You smile at his recalibration of a passionate kisser back to a sweet stranger and you shake his hand. “Hi Toto, nice to meet you so unexpectedly,” you chuckle. “I’m here on a trip with my girlfriends. They said I needed to see more of the world, and what better place to start than Monaco, right?” He nods concurrently, “are you enjoying yourself?” “Yes, it’s been amazing,” you say and you continue jokingly. “However I did meet this random stranger who desperately threw himself at me. That was kind of weird, maybe it’s just a Monegasque tradition.” “Was it that bad?” he laughs. “No, I’m just kidding, let’s just say I’m a fan of the Monegasque tradition.” “Well, if you’re such a fan, can we do the Monegasque tradition again?” he says as he carefully takes your hand. “Depends..” “Depends on what?” he asks as he takes a step closer, but you point your finger on his chest to create a space between you both. “On how the night goes.” “Oh so we’re playing hard to get now? I thought I was your partner in crime. I genuinely feel betrayed now,” he laughs and he notices you slightly shivering. “Oh come here.” He gets closer and takes off his suit coat to wrap it around your shoulders. “Thank you.” You smile at him and he leans down to whisper. “Point for Toto.” You chuckle and push him away, but he holds onto your hand and pulls you closer again in his arms not letting you go. “Oh so that’s how you get all the girls? Kiss them all good, offer them your jacket and hug them real sweet.” “Something like that,” he chuckles. “Well I’m not falling for it,” you say and he raises his eyebrows.

“Where’s my pickup line? I deserve one, don’t I?” His laugh vibrates through your body and his baritone hum fills the air while he’s thinking. “Ah! It’s bad but; you and I are like nachos with jalapeños. I'm super cheesy, you're super hot, and we belong together.” He bows his head against yours to hide his shame, but before you could reply he jumps up again. “Oh, oh! And, do you like Star Wars? Cause Yoda only one for me.” He looked so proud of the last one that it became both extremely adorable and unbearably hilarious that it cancelled out the secondhand embarrassment you felt. “You could’ve stopped after the first one, it only went from bad to worse, dear.” Still grinning self-satisfied from cheek to cheek, “I thought it was pretty good, no?” You shook your head, “are you a star wars fan?” You meant the question as a joke, but he saw his opportunity. “No, not a Star Wars fan per se, more a Star Trek fan. Some said I have the personality of Captain Kirk and the looks of Spock. I mean, Mercedes is kind of my Starfleet-” “Okay, uhm… honey let me stop you there, I have no idea what any of that means but I am tempted to kiss you again just to stop you talking,” you joke, but once again he takes it as an opportunity. “I’d like to see you try. So… when Spock went-” “Oh you really know how to turn a woman on, don’t you?” and you gave him a quick little kiss so he’d be quiet. “I have skills men wish they possessed,” he said contently and stroked his hand across your cheek. “Wanna go downstairs and grab a drink?”

The rest of the night you spent by his side. Laughing at his unbearably stupid jokes as he’s trying to impress you; dancing with him but soon finding out there is not an atom in his body capable of following a beat yet you loved every moment of it. It was heaven on earth, for the first time feeling like you mattered, feeling like someone else wanted you. It was a bonus that the man who’d been chasing you all night was the literal description of prince charming. Every woman stared at Toto begging for his attention, but you were the only one he had his sights on. You were the only one that mattered to him. Even if it was just for a moment, just for one night. As the night came to an end he tried everything in his power to find a way to get to come home with him, but you weren’t falling for his tricks. You made him work for it and it made him want you even more. “Ah there are my friends, I had a great night Toto!” you say as you walk out of the venue with your arms locked in his, seeing your friends again for the first time in three hours. “So, that’s it?” he asked with disappointed eyes. “Can I at least get your number, princess? I really want to see you again.” You plant an exaggerated look of doubt on your face and tap your chin, but then you give in, “of course,” and you write your number in his phone. “Get home safe, princess, I’ll talk to you soon.”

As soon as you step foot in the limo where your friends were waiting for you as they were perched to the window, eyes never leaving the target and mouths agape looking at your interaction with Toto, they finally broke the dams and screeched and cheered inaudible words. “Girlll!!!” “Damn, you won the jackpot!” “Talk about tall, dark and handsome, who is he?” “TELL. US EVERYTHING.” You shake your head at their shouting, “guys, calm down, I’ll explain everyth-” Your words are interrupted by the ringing of your phone. Who calls at this ungodly hour? Maybe something is wrong with Gaby? You feel the blood drain from your face. Dear God please don’t let it be bad news from your mother? “Yes, hello?” you answer your phone. “Hi princess,” you hear on the other side of the line. “Toto?” “Put it on speaker, put it on speaker!!” You swat their hands away and put the phone on speaker at the order of your friends. “Yes, hi it’s me, your partner in crime. I just missed you already.” The expression on the faces of your friends were melting in awe and deep inside you felt yourself get warm at his attempts at winning you over. “Did I leave that big of an impression?” you reply. “When you look as good as you do with a mind as beautiful as you have, you bet I won’t be able to get you out of my head,” he said, slurring his words a bit as he was clearly in the process of sobering up. “Can I pick you up tomorrow? I want to show you and your friends around Monaco. If they want?” You look up at your friends who were violently nodding their heads ‘yes’ and you agreed for him to come. “Lovely, I can’t wait!”

The next day he picked you up as promised and drove you out to the harbour to have lunch on his yacht, which was followed with a scuba dive session in the Mediterranean sea, a private tour in the museum of Monegasque history - where he paid zero attention and only distracted you by pulling you in by your waist and planting kisses on you hair. The rest of the vacation he was determined to give you the time of your life, give you the best, most lavish, and insane experiences. But the moment you will never forget was when you were lying on the beach with him leaning against his chest, wearing the bright yellow bikini he had gifted you which left very little to the imagination. With your eyes closed you soaked up every ray of sunshine as he traced your fingers across your glistening sun kissed skin. “My place is not too far away, do you want to go?,” he whispered in your ear, and you look up at his glowing face from the glittering Mediterranean sea. “But my friends-” you stammered. “-will survive without you for one second,” he finished your sentence with a laugh. A wide smile slowly emerged on your face which he copied, “let’s go.”

You stumbled into his apartment tripping over each others’ feet as he wouldn’t let go of you, keeping you close in your arms and threatening to pull on the string of your bikini the whole time. “Toto!” you yelped as you placed your hands on his cheeks and kissed him vigorously. “You’re so fucking hot princess, come here,” he grunted inbetween kisses and pulled you into his bedroom where he pushed you on the bed and laid on top of you, leaving you no chance of escape. “I’ve been wanting this since I first laid my eyes on you,” he says as he kisses the skin on your neck, tracing it down to your chest. “You’re the most beautiful woman I’ve ever laid my eyes on.” He continued kissing you down to your stomach and you ran your hands through his hair. “Toto, I want you so fucking bad. Fill me up and tear me apart.” He looked up with a grin and within seconds his and your clothes were off, “it took some time, but I knew that behind those sweet smiles you give me was a naughty girl with an even dirtier mind.” He reached for the condoms in his nightstand and with some skillful managing and sultry looks he entered you hot and steamy. Pumping every last moan out of your body and making your skin feel like it was on fire with the heat from his unrelenting love making. He filled you up, thrusting in and out, kissed your lips, bit your neck, and left no inch of your skin untouched. Your pleasure was all that mattered to him, slowing down and speeding up at the exact right moment, guiding you to the edge of your climax. He increased his pace, thrusting in and out, circling your sensitive clit and without losing eye contact, moaning in each others’ mouths, digging your nails in his back, you came simultaneously as primal grunts filled his apartment. Sending you into a different world as you saw stars when you closed your eyes. While you both recovered from your intense high you laid in each others glistening arms, soaked in sweat, the room smelling of sex and passion. If walls could talk they would tell the tale of how a woman found her sexual awakening with the man that would change her life, before she even knew it.

Sitting on your balcony back home overlooking the brick houses, smoky chimneys and whaling police sirens in the background, you think back of that day, the day that turned into night, and the night back into morning. How you couldn’t let go of each other, making love until midnight, how you laid in his arms without a worry in the world. A smile emerges on your face as you look back on those moments. “Mommy is happy!” Gaby runs up to you and jumps on your lap. “Yes, mommy is very happy, are you happy?” He nods yes, “most happy boy in the galaxy!” “Ooh happiest boy in the galaxy, that’s impressive!” you smile at him. “And what makes you the happiest boy in the galaxy?” He points at you, “mommy, because of you of course! So silly!” “Right, so silly of mommy! How couldn’t I know?” you say as you bounce the palm of your hand against your forehead, and he jumps off your lap to continue playing. Tears well in the corner of your eyes because for the first time it felt like you were truly deserving of the happiness you felt. Free of sadness, no loneliness, no guilt. Just blissful joy, shared between a mother and son. “Mommy, mommy! Phone!!” you hear Gaby scream from the living room and you wipe your tears of happiness away before you walk in. “Thank you Rambo,” you say and pick up the ringing phone. “Hello?” “Hello, my princess,” you hear the Austrian accent you could recognise from thousands. “Missed me?” “Hi Toto, uhm, ‘miss’ is a big word, but it comes close,” you joke. It’s been two weeks since you left Monaco and despite you and Toto texting back and forth now and then, you did think of him, every day. But that was the last thing you’d admit, to either him, or yourself. “Well, I do miss you and I can’t wait to see you again,” you hear him say excited. “I’m hosting a cocktail party in my penthouse- oh also, I’m back in London again, which might or might not be related to your whereabouts. But anyway, I’ll have the car come pick you up, and we’ll have a great time. What do you say?” Open up your life to new experiences, and your heart to new people. Your mothers words ran through your mind. “Yes, that sounds lovely.”

You picked out your nicest - only - cocktail dress you own, red velvet, and you pair it with a pearl necklace and beautiful high heels. “Mommy is a princess,” Gaby said to Nova, as you were about to leave the door. “And you are my little prince, baby. I love you,” you said as you kissed his forehead. “Nova, promise me you’ll have him in bed by eight, and no tv till then, please,” you look at Nova who had babysat Gaby countless times before, so she rolled her eyes and waved her hands for you to leave. “We’ll be completely fine, and just let me know if you need me to sleep over here. If you’re going to- you know- you know,” she raised her eyebrows at you, and Gaby laughed at her funny tone oblivious to what she actually meant. “Nova, come on!” “I’m just saying, hot momma deserves the d-” she says, and looks down at Gaby who clearly had no idea what was going on. “Don’t you agree casanova?” You shake your head, “keep him out of it, dear god, I should’ve asked Emma to babysit.” “No, Auntie Nova is Rambo’s favourite, and we both want you to leave and have fun, right?!” “Go mommy, go have fun,” he says with a sweet voice running up to you to give you a hug and he places his hands over your cheeks. “Mommy I’m so proud of you, you deserve it.” Such a little boy, but with such an old soul, the connection between him and you was so strong. The older he got the more you felt it. You kissed him goodnight and left your apartment to find a car waiting for you outside ready to pick you up.

The moment you arrived fashionably late Toto embraced you with open arms and introduced you to his friends. They were not your usual crowd, posh accents, smelling rich and stuck-up. Sipping their drinks with their pinky up and their chins high, looking you up and down as if they were judging your every move. Throughout the evening you put a smile on your face, greeted everyone and stuck by Toto’s side as much as was possible. He was genuinely happy to have you, his joy was writing all over his face. The women at the party complimented your dress and said they expected no finer woman to stand next to Toto, to which he replied that you were the one far out of his league. Even in the crowd in which you didn’t fit in he made you feel like a million bucks. He made your heart flutter with every heartfelt comment and every sweet kiss. But there is only so much faking you’re capable of and after a while you find yourself in desperate need of a breather so you escape to the empty penthouse balcony overlooking the twinkly London skyline. Unaware of how much time was passing you made yourself comfortable under the blanket on the lounge-set and you drifted off in thought watching the stars. Your heart is filled with an immense sensation of love and doubt. What would he be thinking if he saw you like this? André would’ve laughed at you, no doubt. Who were you pretending to be, trying to impress a man that was nowhere near your standard of living, but for some unfamiliar reason this felt right and the fear you felt didn’t make you as much afraid as it made you excited. It was after all, your first try at becoming a functioning social member of society again, so who could blame you anyways. Gaby certainly didn’t, your mom didn’t-

“Can I join?” You snap out of your train of thought as you see Toto walking around the sofa pointing at the blanket you were laying under. You lifted up the corner for him to slide right under and you looked back around into his apartment to find it completely empty. “Wait, I’m the last one?” you ask him with surprise, and a hint of embarrassment because you were oblivious to the whole situation. “Yes, I just left you here alone because I thought you were asleep,” he says with a soft spoken voice and smiles, “I didn’t want to wake you up.” “Oh no, I was just thinking, and admiring the view,” you say looking at Toto, and he looks straight ahead to see what you were talking about. The auburn glow of the night sky mixed with a million twinkling city lights glowed on his face, highlighting his undone hair, high cheekbones and stubble jawline. Toto’s hand reached for your curled up legs under the blanket and placed them over his. With his other arm wrapped around you he runs his fingers through your hair, and you rest your head on his shoulder. There’s no other place you’d rather be right now. “Thinking about what?” he looks at you endearingly and you wonder how long you can hold up the charade. “Toto, there’s something I need to tell you.” He wraps his arms tighter around you and places a kiss on your head, “you can tell me anything dear.” Slowly you slide out of his arms as a precaution for if you'll get a panic attack, then at least he’d be safe and out of range of your sporadic motions. “I’m not who you think I am,” you say as you feel the tears prickle behind your eyes. “I haven’t been lying, but I also haven’t been truthful with you.”

How could you possibly tell him this? The man that had been so upfront with you from day one, about what he does, what his goals are, and you made him believe in a version of you that is nowhere near true. Afraid you were going to lose your second chance at love you contemplate how to formulate your next sentences as every possible variation of the conversation ends with either him getting hurt or you left in tears. But you take a deep breath and let it all out. “Toto, this is not me. I am not this fancy woman in white silky dresses and high heels, I don’t drink champagne on ice and go yachting on my weekends off. I don’t compare to your wealthy lifestyle, your flying around the globe for races and dining with royalty and sheiks. That’s not me, it never was, nowhere close even. Truth is-” Tears well up in your eyes and he reaches out his hand to hold yours tight. “Truth is that for years I’ve been fighting through life, making ends meet and finding a reason to live on when my only purpose of getting out of bed is a giggling four year old. I lost the love of my life, and he left me behind with our little boy. I saw how my mom single handedly took care of me and raised me on her own after my father passed away, but I never realised how much she struggled without me noticing, until I stood in her shoes when I lost André. On the days that I feel useless, when I feel like the world is against me and that a man as good as him didn’t deserve to have his life cut short, I have no choice but to get up and show up. For the sake of boy, and his happiness in life” You wipe your tears away with the blanket you were holding onto. “Toto, no one can prepare you for the pain of losing someone you love so dearly, and then having to hide your pain, just so Gaby wouldn’t be sad. Protecting him from the pain I felt every single day ever since. It is the hardest trail I’ve ever had to face.”

“Toto we met when I was forced to flip my life around by those around me- my mom, my friends. But truth be told, I am nowhere near the person I have been pretending to be and want to be.” He moved closer to you so he could wrap his arms around you, “and who do you want to be.” You looked up at him and saw his eyes glisten. “A person that is excited for life, not afraid to take a risk without regret and finally able to be happy without guilt.” A tear streamed down your face as the words spilled out of your mouth. Words that were stuck in your system as an unspoken truth for too long, but finally found their release. “Well, then I’ll be here, right by your side every step of the way until you become exactly the person you dream of,” he placed a delicate kiss on your hand. “But just so you know sweetheart, in my eyes you are already the woman of my dreams, and I will wait however long it takes for you to realise that.”

“I’m sorry for not having been honest with you,” you look at him apologetically. “But it was nice to not be pitied as the damaged widow and single mom in desperate need of help and sympathy. It was nice for as long as it lasted.” He raised his eyebrows, “but that is not at all how I see you, I don't pity you. I knew you were strong, but after hearing this… I have never admired and respected a woman more in my life, and I mean that,” he chuckles sympathetically. “Okay maybe my mom, but that says enough.” “I’ll take that as a compliment,” you smile at him. “Please do- Beautiful. Smart. Strong. Funny. Loving. Humble. Your boy has one hell of a role model to look up to, and I bet his father considered himself the luckiest man in the world.” Your cheeks warm at his sweet words and how endearingly he spoke of Gaby and André. It was clear how hard he tried to cheer you up, not cross the line, and make you feel heard and loved at the same time. You’d witnessed it before with many other people trying to console your sadness throughout the years, and it wasn’t easy, but the way Toto’s words ran through you felt as if he was hugging your soul and telling how it would all be alright.

“What is the name of your little superman?” he asked as he slightly bumped his shoulder against yours attempting at switching the sad tone of the conversation to a more upbeat one. “Do you have any pictures?” Your eyes lit up and immediately you grabbed your phone, “yes, let me see,” you scroll. “Look, this is Gabriel, but we call him Rambo. It was André’s favourite movie and as soon as Gaby could walk and talk he would pretend he was Rambo, crawling and jumping around on furniture. The amount of times I told André what a bad influence he was,” you chuckle and shake the memories away. You showed Toto a picture of Gaby where he’s playing on the monkeybars preparing to jump in your arms. “He’s adorable, and might I add you look stunning in that dress.” “Toto!” Playfully you slap his shoulder and you continue to swipe your screen to show him another picture, this time of Gaby rehearsing his kindergarten rendition of Romeo and Julliet. “He was so proud to get the lead, he couldn’t stop talking about it!” Toto takes your phone and zooms into the picture of Gaby standing on the stage with the brightest smile on his face, “he’s a work of art. Just like his mom,” and he places a kiss on your head.

For what feels like an eternity you’re sat in Toto’s arms under the starry night, laid on his chest you follow his breathing, calming the tornado that’s rushing through your mind. He had that effect on you. “Toto, can I ask you something?” You shift in his arms so you’re able to see his face. “I have a feeling you’re about to, despite my answer,” he jokes. “Are you who you want to be? Do you have any goals in life?” you ask him without losing eye contact, but he quickly looks away in search of an answer, or perhaps as an attempt to try to hide what he’s feeling inside. After all, the eyes are the gate to the soul as they never lie. “I want to be as strong as my father and as selfless as my mother, as humble as my sister and as curious as my younger self before life came crashing down,” he says in a tone you haven’t heard him speak before. “And my goal? To have a lovely and healthy family; provide for them and love them with my whole life. To give my kids everything I never had and give my wife all that I never saw when I grew up.” He shook his head as his voice cracked. “I never told you but when I was a young boy my father got sick and soon after he left my mom, saying he couldn’t stand his family watching him fade away. I had to step up and fight in life, for my mom and sister; for them to be okay, both emotionally and financially. For years I blamed my father and didn’t speak to him, but when I finally made my peace with it and decided to reach out again he passed away. It was tough but it all makes me the man I am now,” his strong accent hid the fragility in his voice, but it didn’t fool you and you pulled him in closer. “I promised myself I would never put the people I love in the situation I was in. I would do anything in my power.” He pretends to scratch the corner of his eye to hide the tear that fell on his cheek and you squeezed his hand tighter in yours. “That’s incredibly beautiful, Toto,” you say before placing a delicate kiss on his cheek. “I know it exists. It has to... even if I’ve never seen it,” he says as he stares at the stars. “What exists?” you ask him in response. “Unconditional love. I want to see it with my own eyes, feel it with my own heart-” You trace your hand over his cheekbone, “it will come true Toto, when you least expect it.”

He took you to bed where you continued to cuddle for hours, eventually having slept for less than three hours. All night you were up thinking how you so massively misjudged the man laying next to you in bed. He had this extravert charisma and confidence he exuded, but it all came from a place of hurt and betrayal. He needed a second chance as much as you did, and you looked at him peacefully asleep, now and then letting out a cute but loud snore. His heart was bigger than you could’ve ever imagined, bigger than you could’ve ever wished for, and you felt your whole body engulfed with a sense of elation you’d never experienced before. Was this what it felt like? Falling in love. Giving a piece of yourself to the person you trust and letting them into your heart and life. It felt so unfamiliar yet safe, so risky yet exhilarating. The walking contradiction that you had met weeks ago on a balcony in Monaco had left his imprint on your heart, and made you embrace him in all the glory he was, as he showed you over and over how he cared for you for all that you are.

With soft kisses he woke you up, but you shoot up, “shit! I have to take Gaby to kindergarten!” He smiles at you endearingly, “I know Schatz, you told me before we went to bed. I already got you some croissants and coffee for on the go.” You immediately calm down as it seemed like Toto took care of half your worries and you got dressed. “But I didn’t come here with the car-” “Don’t worry about that, I’ll drive you and Gaby! No questions asked, and then I’ll head to work straight from there. It’ll be alright!” You skip over to him and hug him around his bare torso and place a kiss on his broad chest as he picks out his shirt for work. “No, that one. I like it when you wear the denim shirt with khaki pants,” you say as you point at the shirt folded on the dressoir. “Yeah, you like that? Then I’ll wear it more,” he said with a wink and slid on his shirt with TCW embroidered on it, and you poked his stomach right on his initials. After some time Toto grabbed together all that he needed for work and meticulously placed it in his briefcase and you followed him into the elevator. “So this is the morning routine of the infamous Toto Wolff,” you said with a smile as he pressed the button to the garage floor. “Usually my routine doesn’t involve waking up next to a goddess.” You give him a sultry stare, “well, get used to it.” “Oh yeah?” he said as he raised his eyebrows and pushed you against the elevator mirror, going from the penthouse all the way to the bottom floor gave you enough time to fool around and kiss each other as he fiddled with the seam of your dress trying to hike it up so he could reach underneath it. But his attempts were cut short as the elevator door opened and lovely old women entered. As quick as you could you took your hands off each other, but she saw right through the both of you. “Goodmorning- love birds,” she said with a self-satisfied smile and you both politely nodded, keeping quiet the rest of the elevator ride until she stepped out and you both broke out into laughter.

You jumped in his car, one of the fanciest Mercedes’ you’d ever seen in real life and somewhere in between driving out of the garage and arriving at your apartment you’re sure he mentioned of getting you any Mercedes you’d like, ‘because a woman like you deserves to drive machinery worthy of your beauty.’ “Here it is,” you say as you pull up into the parking lot of your apartment complex showing a stark contrast to his penthouse suite. “Shoot, he needs the booster seat,” you say suddenly as you both stepped out of the car and he reached out his hand, “give me the key. Which one is your car? I’ll transfer it and you get Gaby.” He had his ways of making you feel loved in the most unexpected moments, making you realise it is not the fancy parties and glitter and glamour you need, but the little things in life. “Thank you so much Toto, it’s the black one over there,” you say as you give him the keys and walk to your apartment. “Mommy! Ready for school! Look bag packed and auntie Nova said I could bring my new cap,” he ran over to Nova who greeted you with a bright smile and handed over the mercedes cap she got for Gaby. “You’re hilarious hun, do you know he’s out there waiting,” you tell Nova as you help Gaby put on his shoes. “Of course, I see everything, he’ll love it! But tell me, how was last night?” You look up at her with the biggest smile on your face, “better than I could’ve even had imagined- Come on Rambo, let’s go!” She gives you a tight hug, and the three of you leave the house together. As Nova walks into the direction of her own car she walks deliberately slow so she could steal a peak of Toto waiting for you, and you look back and laugh at how silly she looks and you beckon you hands for her to walk on, but Gaby interrupts the hilarious interaction, “mommy, that is not our car.” He points at the black g-wagon where Toto was waiting holding the backseat door open for Gaby to step in.

“Hi big guy,” Toto said with a sweet voice and squatted down on his knees to be at his eye level. “I’m Toto, want to give me a hand.” He reached out his hand and Gaby shook it firmly without saying a word but with a big smile on his face. “Wow, you’re strong!!” he said and playfully tipped over leaning against the car. “What’s your name?” “I’m Gaby, and this is mommy,” he said as he pointed at you to introduce you to Toto. “Well hello mommy, nice to meet you and Gaby,” and he stands up to shake your hand as well before looking down at Gaby again. “Ready to go to school, big guy?” he asked, holding open the car door and Gaby looked at you with a questioning look to see if he could enter this stranger's car, but with the nod of your head he climbed in and Toto helped him fasten his seatbelt. “Are you excited for today?” Toto asked him as you drove off. “Yesss!” he screeched. “Look what I got!” He looked around for his little backpack, and you passed it to him from the front seat. He clumsily zips it open, pulls out the blue mercedes cap and places it on his head with pride. “Wow, that is a beautiful cap! You look so cool Gaby,” Toto says with a chuckle before looking at you. “Gaby, do you know when mommy told you about the fast cars of Mercedes?” you say and point at Toto. “This man owns the fast cars.” The moment those words escaped your lips Gaby started bouncing in his booster seat and didn’t stop till you arrived at kindergarten, bombarding him with a million questions about the cars, the races, the drivers. On Toto’s face it was written that he loved every second of it as much as Gaby did, and you didn’t interrupt their conversation - besides that one moment when Toto was so distracted he took a wrong turn. “Mommy, will Toto also pick me up today?” he asked as you were unfastening his seatbelt when you had arrived, and Toto smiled back at you. “No honey, you’ll see Toto another time again, okay?-” “We will talk more about cars then!” Toto chuckles at his excitement, “you know what, I can’t pick you up, but if mommy doesn’t mind I’ll come later tonight for dinner. Then we can talk for as long as you want!” “Yaaaay!!-” “But only if mommy wants that-” Gaby looks at you with puppy eyes, “mommy? Please, mommy.” You roll your eyes the moment you see Toto look at you with the same puppy expression Gaby has, “alright, alright!”

The moment you get back into the car after dropping Gaby off in class you look at Toto with a displeased look, “this is the first and last time you’re using my son to get me to go on a date with you.” He chuckles at your obvious fony anger and leans in to kiss you, “pshh, you love me so much you’d go on a date with me either way.” Love? With big eyes you look at him. Never had you expected that the thought of loving someone after André would hit you like a freight train, and you felt emotions soar through your body that you couldn’t describe. So intense, all at once that you simply shut down. Like you had done many times before in the period after his death when you couldn't make sense of how you felt. “I’m sorry, no that was not what I meant-” “No, it’s fine, let’s just go. I’m going to be late for work.” In silence he dropped you off at work, and with an emotionless kiss and an empty goodbye you waved him off. Throughout the day, his words were stuck in your mind. Do you really love him? No, you don’t, right? Or is it obvious to everyone else besides you? Have you forgotten what love felt like?

Your mind was spinning, and the moment you arrived home with Gaby you felt like crashing down and hiding away like you were used to. But here you were again, fighting against every painful urge in your body, listening to Gaby talk about his day as the devoted mother you would never cease to be. “Mommy, I have to show you something, look what I made.” Out of his backpack he pulled out a piece of paper with a drawing on it. “This is you and me, mommy, and look! This is Toto standing with the fast cars, and daddy is in the sun. Look how he smiles down.” You look at the stick figures he drew of you and Toto holding hands, with Gaby standing by your side, and as tears well in your eyes you trace over André’s sun. “Mommy, don’t be sad. I miss him too.” You place a kiss on top of his head. Gaby always tried to be strong for you the moment he was aware of the situation. Such a sweet, protective boy, always wanting to make sure you’re alright and smiling. Making sure to distract you with his silliness or making a stupid joke just to get the slightest smile back on your face. “Honey, it’s okay if we miss him, and now that Toto is here it doesn’t mean we miss daddy any less, okay? Life is always moving, and we are always growing, and in time we adapt. And you know what, baby? That is what makes us humans beautiful and strong.” “Okay mommy. You and me are beautiful and strong, right? Just like daddy was,” he looks up at you with a smile. “But Toto is still coming, right?” You run your hands through his soft hair, unknown of the answer yourself, “I don’t know, Rambo. I really don’t know.”

As Gaby was drawing something at the kitchen table still with his blue mercedes cap on and while you were busy skimming the internet for new clothes for Gaby, you suddenly hear a knock on the door. “Toto?!” Gaby screeches, but you beckon him to stay in his seat because you had no clue if it was him; or if it was him, how the dynamic was between you both since you last saw him. While you walk into the hallway you hear indistinct noises and as you approach the door closer you hear on the other side, “wise man say, only fools rush in.” What on earth is going on? Why is he singing so melodramatic in the hallway? “Toto?” “But I can’t help, falling in love…” You swing the door open and see him stand there with a bouquet of white roses. “...with youuuuu-” “For the love of God Toto, come in. What are you doing?” You pull him by his arm into the hallway, and close the door behind him. “Honey, I am so sorry. It was never my intention to rush you into something you weren’t ready for. But Schatz, I need you to know that I am falling in love with you, more and more every second. I can’t help it, please, don’t be angry with me,” he pleads with sorrowful eyes. “I love you so much, a love that I have never felt before. Please, don’t be-” “Toto,” you place your hand on his chest. “I’m not angry at you. How could I be, when you accepted me when I was at my lowest and gave my messy heart a place to rest. It’s just that for the first time I’ve opened up, and let you in.” You hold him tighter by his arm, “and now that you’re here I don’t want you to go, and giving you that power scares the living shit out of me, because I don’t want me or Gaby to get hurt again. But if trusting someone with my heart again means that I gave myself a second chance at love, I am happy that I am experiencing it with you.” “Love?” he replied slowly. “Love,” and at the confirmation of your word he swept you off your feet embracing you in a tight hug while he planted a million lovely kisses on your face. “But please don’t ever sing again because that will haunt me in my nightmares,” you joke in between his kisses. “Try to stop me!” he laughed and after he finally put you down you say, “there’s someone waiting for you in the other room.”

“Hey BIG GUY!” Toto screams as he walks into the living room with spread arms. “TOOTIE!!! You’re here!!” Gaby jumped out of his seat and ran into Toto’s arms. He lifted him up and swung him in the air, Gaby’s giggles filling the living room and Toto’s smile radiating bright as the sun. “I see you haven't taken off your cap yet!” Toto says the moment he puts him down, and taps the visor of the cap. “I told everyone that my new bestest friend is Mercedes!” He taps on the logo of the cap and proceeds to hug Toto’s leg. It was the most adorable sight you’d seen in a while and you were filled with a sense of security that you realised you missed. Toto made you whole again. He was your missing puzzle piece in life, and suddenly everything was coming together. “See, I know how much my best friend looooves the fast cars, so look what I brought you,” he says as he searches the inner-pocket of his suit and pulls out a miniature formula one car. “This. is. Amazing!” Gaby screams in excitement and takes the car out of Toto’s hand. “What do you say then, Rambo?” He looked over at you as you were organising the roses in the vase. “Thank you Tootie. I am going to add this one to my garage. One day it will be as big as yours!” he says as he runs off to his room. “Enjoy!” Toto shouts after Gaby, but he is long gone in excitement, ready to play. “Thank you,” you say with a soft tone of voice, and Toto walks over to you. “For what Schatz?” He hugs you from behind and sways you in his arms as you try to continue putting the flowers in the vase. “For making Gaby happy like this, and for making me happy,” you say as you look up at him and he leans down to place a kiss on your lips. “Aaaah nooo, gross!” Gaby yells as he walks back in with the bucket of cars and dumped them all on the floor trying to distract himself from the terrifying sight of the two of you kissing. “One day you will also kiss a girl like that,” Toto said as he walked up to him. “Or do you already have a girlfriend?” Was he indirectly referring to you as his girlfriend now? Your heart skipped a beat at the thought, but Gaby’s silly comment took you back to reality as his face turned sour, “Noo I’m just little, that is yuck Tootie,” he said and placed his hand on Toto’s knee as he crouched down beside Gaby to take a look at his car collection. “Think again, please.” Toto laughs at his honesty, “my bad, I should’ve known.”

As you were making dinner you heard Toto play with Gaby in the living room. Now and then you hear loud thuds, getting you worried but everytime it is followed with loud laughter making you aware that it was just their boyish shenanigans. You hear them race the cars by the loud engine noises they were making with their mouths and now and then Toto explained some things about the car. What, you couldn’t make out, but it was sweet nonetheless, and Gaby seemed to have the time of his life. As soon as dinner was ready Toto and Gaby came running as fast as they could. “Thank mommy for the dinner she made for us,” he told Gaby, and immediately Gaby jumped on your leg and gave you a kiss. “Thank you mommy- now you also have to thank mommy.” He smiled at you endearingly, “thank you mommy for the lovely dinner you made us.” “Of course my boys, I love you,” you say as you hand them their dinner plates and plant a kiss on each of their heads. During dinner Toto and Gaby continued rambling on about everything and nothing. The moment Toto mentioned Star Trek Gaby suddenly thought it was the best thing in the world before even knowing what it was and asked you to download all seasons so he could watch it with Toto.

The weeks following were a dream come alive. Not the fairytale you stepped into in Monaco. Not the fancy cocktail parties. No, it was a million times better than that. Any chance Toto had, he came over to spend time with you and Gaby. Taking you on walks in the park, making forts with blankets in the living room, Star Trek marathons leading till late into the evening. It was all you wanted and more, and it was the little things that filled you with bliss. The smile on Gaby’s face when Toto lifted him up, how Toto came alive when Gaby asked him something about racing or growing up in Austria, how it felt safe when the three of you layed in bed when there was a thunderstorm outside, how Toto checked for monsters under Gaby’s bed and told him he’d be safe and that he was never far away to protect him.

You rolled over into his arms as you were trying to fall asleep, but a thought on your mind was keeping you awake and Toto knows you well enough to realise something was eating at you. “What’s going on, Schatz?” he says with a drowsy voice as he nearly fell asleep before you rolled on top of him. “This is going well, right? I mean, we love each other, it’s all working out. For the first time I feel at home in my own house and I feel loved and protected, all because of you” Toto hummed in agreement. “What I feel for you is serious, and I- uhm, well- I want you to meet my mom.” Toto immediately rolled over to turn on the nightlight so he could see you, and his eyes were wide with an expression you couldn’t yet put your finger on. “I mean, if you want to wait, that’s also completely fine, but it is just that-” “Yes, one hundred percent, yes,” he said firmly. “There’s nothing more I’d want in the world. Thank you Schatz, for letting me into your wonderful life. Thank you.” He rolled over to your side of the bed, and planted sweet kisses all over your body. The human furnace he is, he immediately warms you up as his naked body pinches you down on the bed. “Honey, I still need to breathe,” you giggle as his fingers trace over the side of your stomach while he is still laid on top of you. “Oh, definitely after what I am about to do to you.” He dove below sheets and ripped your panties off with his teeth, setting the tone for what was about to be a long night. There was an intimacy you felt as you took time exploring each others’ bodies and worshipping every part of each others’ being. You felt the touch of a man that loved and cared for you, he entered you letting you feel and enjoy every second of his invasion of your most private places. Moans of pure passion and admiration, and the high you felt was a testament to how you trusted him with your heart, your body and your life.

The next morning he was ready with options for days he could take off to visit your mother with Gaby and you, wanting to meet her as soon as he could. “I can’t lie, Liebling, I’m a bit nervous,” he said as you pulled up into the driveway of your mothers house a week later and placed his hand on your leg. “Tootie, she loves you!” Gaby exclaims from the backseat and Toto leans back to run his hands through his hair. “Thank you Rambo.” “Gaby is right, she already loves you from all the stories I’ve told her. You’ll do fine honey. ” And truth be told, Gaby was in fact right. What followed was a whole day filled with laughter, and joy. Your mom right away taking a claim at your new found love as she was the one that encouraged you to spread your wings. “You hear that Rambo, without Gammy mommy would have never met me. Crazy, no?” Toto said jokingly to Gaby. “Uh-oh, is that true?” Gaby says as he places his hand over his mouth. “Yes, but I would’ve found mommy either way, even if it meant going on a lifelong scavenger hunt,” Toto says and places an arm around your shoulder before kissing your head. “Get a room! Gaby, that’s what you have to say!” Gaby repeated after his grandmother and jumped on Toto’s lap. “Get a room!!” and Toto tickled him the moment the words left his mouth. “Noo ahhh!” Gaby tried to escape from Toto but with little luck and you were sure that if Toto continued for a second longer Gaby would’ve peed in his pants from laughter.

For a moment time froze and you looked up at the sun burning in your face as you were all sitting in the backyard. Thoughts of André flashed through your mind, but for the first time they brought you happiness. You looked around at the smiles on the faces of the people you loved most. You look to your right seeing Gaby sitting in Toto’s arms, your mother making jokes with the man of your dreams and you look up at the sun, softly whispering “thank you” at André. Thanking him, for letting you make peace with yourself. Allowing yourself to be happy again, allowing yourself to love again. But above all, to live again; free from pain, doubts and guilt. For the first time it felt like you were alive again.

Toto saw you lost in thought and squeezed your thigh with a reassuring smile and mouthed the words ‘I love you’. You let it soak into your soul, let it coat you and warm you up. For a long time you felt lost, but this is what it must feel like when hearts find a home.

In the months that followed it proved to require a lot of planning, but for the people you love most you’d do anything. So in between Toto’s insane work schedule of flying everywhere and nowhere; he had a place to call home and be at ease with you and Gaby. Trying to spend as much time with you as he could, not wanting to miss any moment he could possibly share with you. So, when months later it was showtime, Toto insisted he’d be there in the crowd for Gaby. Ready for the recital of his lead role of the kindergarten rendition of Romeo and Juliet, Gaby was jumping up and down in the living room. You were waiting for Toto to come home from work, and show him a special little surprise you and Gaby prepared for him, before you’d head out. The moment Toto’s keys to your apartment fiddled in the lock, Gaby jumped up, “Tootie is here!!” Toto skipped full excitement into the living room, putting down his briefcase and spreading his arms to hug Gaby and placed a kiss on your forehead. Unaware of the whole surprise Toto continued to take off his coat, but was interrupted by Gaby’s energetic acrobatics as he climbed up the sofa, “Look!! Tadaaa!” Gaby was displaying his outfit. He was wearing a denim shirt with his initials embroidered on it, paired with khaki trousers, just like Toto always wore. And as expected, it was his choice of outfit this morning as well, when he got ready before you even woke up. It was a guess you would’ve placed a million dollars on. “Dear God, you look amazing Rambo!” Gaby gave him a little twirl, “yess? Right? Fabuloso! That’s what mommy said.” Toto picked him up and planted a million kisses on his neck, “you and mommy are my two little silly angels. Are you wearing that to the recital?” he asked excitedly. “Of course. You both are!,” you interrupted them. “You two look amazing!”

You walked into the auditorium with your arm locked into Toto’s as Gaby sat on his shoulders, playing his fingers in Toto’s long dark hair. You looked like an absolute power couple. You were dressed in the beautiful silk white dress you wore the day you first met Toto, and Toto and Gaby wearing their matching outfits. Everybody was staring at you, looking you up and down, whispering and giving you compliments of how amazing you looked. As the show started, you watched Gaby put on the sweetest performance, and the first moment he could pick you and Toto out in the crowd of the sea of parents, he broke character immediately to wave at you both. Enthusiastically you waved back and Toto gave him a thumbs up, before continuing filming Gaby on stage. Toto looked so proud. The way he showed his love in little, unexpected ways surprised you and filled your heart every day a little more. Making you fall in love with him, every day, a little more.

As you got home after a long evening you were unpacking Gaby’s bag and Toto was sitting with him in the living room, but you couldn’t help but overhear the conversation between them. “I want to be just like you, Tootie,” Gaby said in wonder as he looked at his clothes that matched that of Toto. “Well of course, you can be anything you want to be,” he replied and pulled Gaby on his lap. “Can you also be anything, Tootie?” Gaby repeated Toto’s words back to him. “Yes, I can also be anything-” “well, you know how I have my daddy in the stars?” A small silence fell which Toto picked up, “yes dear,” he replied carefully. “Well, can you be my papi under the sun?” Immediately Toto looked at you lost for words, and his eyes found you standing behind the kitchen aisle with tears in your eyes nodding ‘yes’ at him as you couldn’t believe what you just heard. Neither of you knew how to respond, but Toto’s reply reassured you that he was the man who has made you whole again. “Gaby, I will be anything you want me to be, and everyday I will try to love you as much as your daddy once did and continues to do every day. So, for as long as your daddy is in the stars, I will be guarding over you under the sun. You have my word, son, and I will never break it.” “I love you papi,” he says and gives Toto a big hug. You sit down next to them as Toto places his arm around you and Gaby; for what is the beginning of a wonder of a family of hearts that finally found a home, both getting a second chance at love and life.

Your mom was right. Parents aren’t the people you come from. They’re the people you want to be, when you grow up. Toto was the prime example of the validity of those words, and for the first time in forever you saw a love soar through him you had not seen before. One that cannot be explained through words, but must be felt in every fibre of the body. One that he was destined to see with his own eyes and feel with his own heart. An unconditional love that will never be replaced.

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I’ll give you some time to just sit there with your thoughts after reading this, but before I do I want to thank you for all the love and support you continue to give me. It truly keeps me going. I hope you liked this piece as much as I loved writing it, because it was truly my passion project in which I put so much time and devotion to creating these characters. And again, thank you- thank you- thank you. I can’t say it enough 🤍

I’d love to head you comments and feelings, what you liked about it and which parts made you happy or sad 🥹 I want to hear it all, there is no greater joy for a content creator than to hear you related to my work or that it conveyed some emotion within you, and there is also so much I have to get off my chest after writing this haha

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Disclaimer: This work is an RPF which is entirely based on my imagination and is not a representation of their true character. All events described are fictitious and similarity to actual events is purely coincidental.

#toto wolff #toto wolff x reader #toto wolff x you #toto wolff imagine #formula 1 x reader #formula 1 x you #formula 1 #driver x reader #driver x you

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jamminvroomvroom · 5 months

Text

second time around.

ln x fem!reader

in which he’s quite desperate to have a second kid.

staying in my active era! there is honestly no excuse for this one, i just simply couldn’t help myself. it’s porn, yes, there is plot, but it’s just. porn.

warnings: 18+!! minors dni!! where do i even begin? smut, more smut, breeding kink (kinda the whole point), choking, overstimulation, general sex acts, public sex, car sex, shower sex, mentions of pregnancy, mentions of the kid they already have, lando being a little shit, sex somewhere unhinged in the mtc, a brief moment of angst, dom!lando, rough sex? yeah.

3.9k words

take: 1

the season is coming to an end.

somewhere between italy and singapore lando decides he wants another kid.

it’s a warm day in the middle of september when he proposes the idea to you. you’re watching your daughter toddle around the garden, soaking up the last remnants of sunlight before the darkness of autumn encapsulates the warm beams until march.

she giggles, pushing her toys around in the grass. you let her play, lost in her own little world of wonder. lando turns to you, scanning your side profile, watching you watch the little girl. he’s awestruck, enamoured totally by the family he’s created, by the woman he loves. he doesn’t think, he just opens his mouth and let’s loose his big idea.

“want another one?” he cooes, sliding closer across the bench, until he’s nosing at your cheek. kisses are pressed to your puffy face. it’s still early.

at first you think he’s offering you another coffee, so you hold out your almost empty mug to him. you’d been nursing the drink, letting it go cold in the naturally cooler air. he laughs at you, and that’s when you clock what he’s actually asking.

you turn to him, facing each other now. lando looks excited. you wonder if you can find a way to mirror his expression.

“lando…” you start. his face drops at your tone, letting him down easy. “it’s not that i don’t want to, it’s just-“

“i’ll be home more. i’ve worked it all out. if we get to work now, baby will be here around the summer break.”

you mull over his words.

your first baby was a shock to you both, and you didn’t fancy doing that again. you loved lando with every fibre of your being, just as you did your daughter, but being away from him so much in the lead up to her arrival shot every one of your nerves to pieces.

but another baby would be on the agenda eventually - you both desperately wanted to add to your beautiful family - and you supposed that if he’d done the math…

“by get to work now, you mean…?” you cock an eyebrow at him. he lights up like the christmas tree you’d be putting up in a few months.

“she’s going down for her nap soon.” lando smirks, voice edged with that excitement once again.

his head is between your legs mere moments after he shuts your bedroom door.

you’d been waiting for him, stripped bare in anticipation. your baby girl would be down for a good few hours, more than enough time for him to draw out everything you had to offer and fill you back up.

his tongue runs over your flesh; he’s messy with it. you’re choking out whimpers as he licks and laps and tugs with his teeth. your pussy clenches around nothing and he notices, sliding his fingers all over where you ache. they’re quickly wet enough to slide inside of you, and he grinds them deep, luring traces of an orgasm into the pit of your belly. it’s familiar, the way he winds you up, and you want him like this every minute of the day.

“getting you ready, honey. gonna get you so fucking ready.” lando is slurring words into your cunt, letting them get lost to your sodden folds. you hear every word perfectly. they make you shake and shake until you’re undone.

when he looks up at you, his mouth is glistening. his fingers are, too. he hates wasting a drop of you, so he laps up the mess you’ve made while he shuffles up the bed. when he’s finally hovering over you, he’s desperate, but you’re worse. you could cry from the urge.

something carnal is taking place; he’s staring into your soul, finishing up the remnants of your taste, and you’re begging with your eyes, hands slinking all over your own body. you must be dripping by now. your body is restless and you raise your hips, inviting him close, deep.

when he thrusts into you, he’s pinning you down into your shared mattress. you’re completely at his mercy and he fucking loves it. you love it more. you go slack underneath him, and he starts a slow grind. he’s not thrusting, not yet, he’s just rolling into you, deeper, deeper, deeper. you feel the first tears threatening to fall. he feels so good, it’s unbearable.

he nudges at your most sensitive spot, over and over and over. you whine carnally and he swallows it, licking into your mouth. his curls tickle your forehead, you’re pressed so close together. he sees the pools in your eyes and then he looses it completely.

hand on your neck for leverage, he starts thrusting, harder and harder, faster than you can ever recall. he knows you can take it, knows how bad you want it, and that thought alone spurs him on. you have the same goals, the same shared instincts. you feel nothing but pure fucking bliss everywhere.

“you want me to fill you up? you want my baby, honey? want me buried nice and deep?” you hear him grunt, but he sounds so far away.

you are lost to the void when you come. you can’t even try and resist, not when you can hear how wet you are, not when you can hear the quiet whimpers he tries to fight at the way your pussy convulses around him. you cannot see anything but the stars in his eyes.

you go limp and he spills, fucking it even further into you. his eyes are trained on where you’re still joined, and where he’s still fucking you. you’d be screaming if not for the hand wrapped around your throat. the most delicious piece of jewellery you own.

lando needs to know he’s gone as deep as he can, that you’ve come as hard as he can make you. he feels unhinged when his fingers find your clit, switching between short spasms of his finger on the nub, and grinding down on it with his palm. you’re both overstimulated, soaked with sweat and other things. you’re gripping his cock so fucking tight that he can’t stop the rush of moans, your name mumbled like a prayer between expletives.

but still, he needs to know it’s deep enough.

an hour later, you can finally move, and you sink deep into the bath.

your head is on his chest, he washes you gently. you wonder if it’ll be a boy or a girl.

date night

almost a month passes. no sign of baby number two.

it’s fine, you tell yourself. you tell lando, too. all the more reason to keep practicing.

every opportunity he gets to bury himself to the hilt inside of you is a win in both of your books. he grabs every single one of those opportunities with both hands.

you’re dressed up nice for dinner, little black dress hugging you well. you watch the scenery flick past you. lando’s in the drivers seat, making small talk, his left hand heavy on your bare thigh. you’ve just dropped your daughter off with her grandparents, your mother hugging lando tight. he’d been gone a while.

fingers skim higher up your thigh. you want to let him carry on but this car is new, untainted by his adventurous personality and your willingness to comply. your legs snap shut and you watch him smirk out the corner of your eye.

“later.” you whisper.

his knuckles turn white on the steering wheel.

“i know. don’t you worry, honey.” he doesn’t sound convincing, no, he sounds like a man with a plan and you dread to think of what he has in store.

the restaurant is tiny. a hole in the wall. it’s intimate, exclusive, slightly extortionate, but lando likes to treat you. you order, and he behaves. you sip wine, and he behaves. you drag your heel up his leg, and still, he behaves. you know something is brewing behind those stormy eyes.

he launches his attack during dessert.

vanilla ice cream hits your tongue when he strikes, leaning back in his chair. his thick neck captures your attention, the dim light accentuating him just right.

“would your prefer we take this to the car or the bathroom? it’s pretty spacious back there, you know.”

lando speaks so casually, and slightly too loudly. your cheeks are aflame.

“lando!” you hiss in warning. you’re sputtering over his boldness, catching some ice cream with your tongue. he watches the way it moves over your lips intently.

“actually, as tempting as the bathroom is, we still need to break in the new car.” lando sounds like he’s talking about the weather, or a shopping list, not the location of your next sexcapade. you swear you see the old lady at the next table over wink at you. “your choice, honey.”

you’re staring daggers at him. he leans in closer, elbows resting on the table and a shit eating grin contorting his pretty face.

“i’ve been gone too long, i need to remember what that pussy feels like.” his voice has dropped an octave but it’s still too loud. you inadvertently grind against the chair. the candle on the table flickers from the force of the shaky breath your expel.

“if you shut up now, you can have me anywhere you want me.” you mumble, bringing your napkin to your lips. the ice cream is melting and you have more important things on your mind.

“i’ll have you anyway, honey. because no matter what happens, we’re gonna go back to the car and you’re gonna crawl into my lap, aren’t you? you’re not gonna be able to help it.” he keeps going and you want the ground to swallow you up. maybe you want to crawl over the table and jump on his lap right here. you fight every natural instinct.

“lando.” you try to scold him again but it comes out breathier, a feeble attempt at shutting him up. it’s hard to be convincing when you want nothing more than for him to bend you over in the middle of this restaurant.

“and after i’ve had you shaking on my lap, i’m gonna fill you up, yeah? you’ve been waiting for weeks, poor thing.”

you usher over the waiter, and ask for the bill.

he’s got you home in one piece and all the way up to the shower.

you’re still delirious from the car. he’s still dripping out of you.

he pushes you against the shower screen, your cheek resting on the fogged up plastic. the combination of yours and his first orgasm is enough to slick him up and he slides right back inside of you, as if he’d never left.

your head is spinning, car lights and nail prints in leather seats flashing through your mind.

he’d been right in the restaurant. you’d crawled straight into his lap and he’d been waiting, seat pushed back, cock slapping up against his tanned belly. he’d swiped his fingers through your folds, determining that you were wet enough already, and then you’d sunk straight down on him.

at first he’d just watched you lose control, bouncing and grinding and whining on his lap. you were growing tired when he stepped in, pushing you back against the steering wheel, the angle change making your eyes roll back. you came twice with his fingers on your clit and his other hand holding you down so he could grind up into you. he’d released deep into you, all you could do was shudder, collapsing into his chest.

now, he’s taking you again, the hot water cascading over you both. you’re almost limp, caught between the cold screen and his hot, restless body. this it was three weeks apart does to him, and the urge to claim every part of you is at the forefront of his mind.

you’re writhing. there’s no room to move; he’s pressed so tight against you, breathy moans sounding straight into your ear and you want him impossibly closer. you always missed him so much it hurt, but that pain had increased tenfold lately.

you try to roll your hips back into him, needing him deeper, somehow. you’re so wet and tight around him, and your attempt at moving on him has you clamping down on him.

lando whimpers when he lets go, marking you as his.

he washes your hair and you fall asleep together naked.

the fear

lando is due back from qatar.

any minute now, he’ll be walking through the door.

he’s taken a podium, so you are expecting somewhat high spirits, despite the slight issue that had been the sprint race.

a podium is a podium, you’d tried to tell him on the phone late on saturday night. you knew that a podium was never just a podium.

you’re cleaning the kitchen up, your sweet daughter tucked up tight in her bed upstairs. a random playlist is sounding from the speakers and you flit around in just his hoodie. it hits mid thigh and it’s keeping you shielded from the biting october air.

you hear keys in the lock somewhere in the distance. you grin stupidly. god, you always fucking miss him. you turn to face the doorway, eagerly anticipating his face, longing for one of his speciality hugs.

instead, a storm enters your kitchen in the form of your boyfriend.

you raise and eyebrow.

“lando?” you question.

your hips are in his hands before he can answer. he’s walking you backwards until the granite of the counter is digging into your lower back.

“turn around.” his voice is gravelly, commanding. you do as you’re told.

the hoodie is bunched around your waist, your panties are tugged to the side. you can hear the rustle of fabric, assuming he’s getting himself ready. two fingers gloss through your folds while he pushes you down, bending you over for him. he’s rubbing circles into your clit and you’re keening into his touch.

“you gonna tell me what’s wrong?” you manage to choke out. he grunts in response.

“just need to get inside you.” is all he replies. well, okay then.

lando rearranges you, hiking one of your knees up so that’s it’s resting on the countertop. your other foot barely touches the floor when he fucks into you, ruthless. you cry out, reaching blindly behind you for him. you graze his hip and he shivers, pushing into you even harder.

he’s frantic, messy with it, thumbing at your clit. there’s hardly any room to move his hand, so he’s grinding the pad of his thumb as best he can. the pressure builds in your belly embarrassingly fast. you love when he gets like this, but you will pry what’s wrong out of him later when he curls up into his chest.

“gonna give you another one. s’all i can think about. fucking you full.” he mutters. your back arches into him.

“please.” you whimper, slurred. it’s all you can think about too.

your plea ushers along his orgasm, and he drops his head against your back. you’re shaking when you finish; he stays buried deep for a moment, silence washing over you.

when he helps you stand up, he kisses you deep. he brushes the hair from your face, says hello properly.

“wanna go see her.” he mumbles.

when you finally manage to climb the stairs, you see straight into your daughters room.

lando is stood over her crib, watching her sleep in the lamp lit room. he’s cooing something to her that you can’t make out. your knees are weak at the sight. you want to fill this house with children that look like him and laugh the way he does.

he catches you watching, sending you a wink, a promise that he’ll meet you in bed. when he finally does, drawing back the sheets and dropping into bed beside you, he wraps himself around you instantly.

“talk to me.” you command, toying with his hair in a way that you know turns him into mush in your hands.

“can’t win a race, can’t give you another baby. just- fuck.” he sighs, voice so small. you tear up but you push that aside for now.

“stop, lando. don’t do this to yourself.” you try to sound firm, attentive.

“just- am i good to you? am i good to her?” he needs to hear you say it, that’s the only thing that will talk him down from this spiral. he’s exhausted, and this is often a consequence.

“sometimes i think you hung the stars in the sky.” you hum, kissing his forehead.

gentle snores lull you to sleep.

quickie

you go with him to austin.

it seemed logical, after the events of qatar. your daughter has been stolen away by lando’s dad, who is showing her the paddock and introducing her to mechanics. you watch on, momentarily, because then lando is stealing you away.

“haven’t you got fp3 in a minute?” you ask, coy smile on your face. he’s pulling your jeans down and kicking them away.

“this won’t take long.” he smirks.

you crave the upper hand for a change. his race suit is already undone, so you make your move. you tug down his fireproofs, taking his cock in your hands. he’s hard already, glistening for you. he groans, but doesn’t make you stop.

you’re watching him through your eyelashes, his head tipping back in pleasure. you work your hand around him, up and down, applying pressure at the base and around the tip. it’s flushed red, wet in your hand and he looks too pretty to stop. he can have you later, in your hotel room, you think. right now, you’re having him.

lando is panting, thrusting into your hand when he comes for you. you’re soaked through, and he can probably see the damp patch on the panties. his release hits your stomach, painting your flushed skin white. your eyes scan the room for something to clean yourself with, but he beats you to it.

thick fingers swipe through the mess he’s made. your panties are tugged to the side and then he’s fucking you with said fingers. you cannot produce a thought, mouth gaping open in the shape of an ‘o’. the sight before you has you gushing, and he uses that leverage to speed up.

“you think i’m gonna let it go go waste, honey? silly girl. pretty, pretty girl.” he mutters.

your hips are bucking into his hand when he pulls out of you, collecting more of him from your belly, and then he’s thrusting them in again. you tear up from the pleasure coursing through you, white hot. he’s crazy, you think, but he’s so fucking beautiful, teasing glint in his eye as he curls his fingers deeper.

“want it so bad, don’t you? gotta keep you full for me, don’t i?”

you’re sure you can be heard from the garage when your orgasm hits.

office party

a burnt orange dress clings to your hips and a curly haired man clings to your hand.

the mtc is lit up for another gala that you and lando have to attend. the season is over and they’ve had a great run, so a toast must be made to celebrate that.

you watch him get passed around the room between sponsors and other important people, proud of what he’s achieved. you hate sharing him, but it’s a necessary evil, so you drink champagne with oscar’s girlfriend, lily, and natalie pinkham.

when lando comes back to you, his PR smile is dropped and that genuine, boyish grin returns that you have so missed in his momentary absence. he introduces you to some people, proudly showing you off, sinking drinks as he does.

it’s nearing 10pm when his actions become questionable. his hand stays on your ass, his words whispered in your ear are filthy and his sly kisses on your neck stop being quite so sly.

you remove him from the main event, just for a moment, just to try and get him to compose himself before you jump him against one of the vintage racing cars. he sees this as an invitation, however, and then everything goes awry.

he’s dragging you into the lift, kissing you against the closed doors. when you stumble out a floor up, you can still hear the function in full swing. he’s pulling you down a hallway and into what you assume is an office. when he has you sat on a desk, you realise where you are.

“is this zak’s office?” your eyes pop out of your head, bewildered.

“maybe.” he shrugs. he’s smirking like a bastard.

“you’re insane.” you shake your head, standing from the desk, but his lips ghost your ear and you’re putty in his hands.

“you’re driving me insane. coming here in this tight fucking dress. can’t stop looking at you, thinking about this.” his hand rubs over your lower belly as he speaks, and then you’re back on the desk.

lando’s on his knees, peeling the silky material over your thighs until your barely there panties are in his face. he mouths over them briefly, and then they’re gone and his tongue is buried to the hilt in your cunt.

it doesn’t take him long to get you off, the alcohol and the thrill of being in the one place you should never have sex pushing you quickly towards your orgasm.

the glass wall of windows is too inviting for lando to pass up, so on shaky legs, you’re pressed up against them, looking out over the pond and the fairy lights when he pushes into you.

he’s kissing over your shoulder, your neck, holding your down on him while he thrusts up into you. you turn your head to kiss him, to let him swallow up your noises that could give you away.

“you’re so fucking good for me, honey. letting me have you here like this just so i can give you a baby.” he slurs against your lips, pussy drunk and ravenous.

he finds your clit, fast fingers making small swipes against it and you want to cry.

“gonna make this time count, yeah, honey? gonna keep it all inside of you until we get home?”

you try to nod, try to say something but you’re choking on air and dripping all over him. a couple more thrusts and you’re the perfect vessel for him to release into, throbbing and hot around his cock.

“beg for it, honey, come on. tell me how much you want it.” lando mumbles right in your ear.

“lando, please. please, please, please.” you whimper. “come for me, baby, need it inside of me.”

you leave the office a lot more composed than when you entered it. well, aside from the remnants of him that are running down your inner thighs.

a month later, lando’s laughing. he’s actually laughing, while you cringe, burying your blushing face in his chest.

you’re holding a pregnancy test in your hands, finally a positive one.

when you do the maths, you realise where baby norris was conceived, and you try and make him promise never to tell anyone that it was in his boss’s office.

“it’s a funny story.” he tells you. there are tears in his eyes.

“you’re so lucky i love you.” you roll your eyes. you are also dangerously close to crying.

but truthfully, you’re the lucky one. he carries you to bed that night, claiming that now you had a baby on board, you had to be careful!

you dream of him, that night. the man that hung the stars in the sky.

once again, idk what came over me i’m sorry lmfao

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removed any tags that weren’t working! lemme know if you wanna be added or removed <3

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