Imagine trying to have a normal Halloween party but all of your guests are REAL monsters that are horny as FUCK.
You see a fairy prince rubbing his bulge as you walk by, some werewolves eyeing your hips with each step, and you swear those “fake” vampire teeth just got longer as if getting ready to sink into your neck-
You’ve gotta stop having open invite parties unless you’re ready to feel tentacles and knots stretching you out.
Humans are cute, and you’re a particularly intriguing snack to monsterkind. With those plump hips and soft tummy, they’re about ready to tackle you and get to making babies.
A few drinks in and your giggling as a bottle spins. You end up in a closet with something you can’t quite comprehend and leave with your panties soaked with viscous black fluid and mind numb.
Some pretty vampire boys take turns kissing you, their cold fingers traveling down your body. It’s only later that you realize they’ve begun drinking from your neck, you’re too buzzed to even notice the pain.
Your pussy gets played with by an incubus who doesn’t even try to hide his flicking tail. Not like you’d notice anyways, you’re too focused on the feeling of his tongue swirling your clit.
Several cocks enter you that night, some slimy and long, others short at first before growing longer and thicker once they cum. By the end of your night they’ve all left some sort of claim on you, and you’ll be visited by different monster suitors until you pick which one to mate with.
You’ve got the sight after all, even if you’re not aware of it yet, and monsters prefer a human that came see them when they’re plowing into them.
Hopefully next time you’ll actually realize you’re getting pounded by actual monster cock, though.
vampires who see blood drinking as an intimate act. you're giving yourself fully to them, putting your fragile, fleeting human life in a monster's hands. and it is erotic--their tongue trailing down the slope of your neck, your pulse thrumming beneath skin, practically calling to them... the bliss when their fangs sink in, puncturing your flesh, blood dribbling down their chin. you inhale sharply and they groan, eyes closing, savoring the warm metallic taste rushing down their throat. the sound of them gulping down your life essence, drinking greedily, unable to stop... an arm clasping your waist, the other holding your back steady to them as they feed. and they don't want to let go--you taste so, so delicious; you taste alive. to deprive themselves of such bliss is torture. but your pulse grows weaker beneath their fangs, and your hands are starting to tremble, so they must detach from your neck, not before making sure to clean their mess with their tongue. and when they see the perfect bite marks left on your neck, your body practically begging to be fed from again? it's no wonder a vampire can get drunk on their human's blood.
warnings (mdni 18+): humping, dub con-ish (?) in the beginning because he's lowk in a hunger frenzy but everything is still very much consensual dw, p in v, unprotected sex (wrap b4 u tap guys) graphic descriptions of blood
a/n: ok so what if vampires just get rlly feral and horny when they are starved what then. also im sorry this is lowk putting merc in such a bad light
a REQUEST by @alexisheresworld!! i hope i did your prompt justice :)
the call lights up your phone at the worst moment in the small, near-silent brunch cafe. your ringtone, a traitor to the peace, completely overtakes the shop's calm ambient music with its merry little jingles.
many of the shop's patrons shoot you a side-eye and the cashier, who was oh-so-sweet when delivering your flaky pastry, now delivers a firm glare at your direction.
way to go.
it was your first day in china, and you've already pissed off the locals and embarrassed yourself.
"er, hi?" you whisper into your phone, trying to cover the embarrassment by using a hand to shield your face.
"hello my dear," the voice on the other line responds, voice tight.
who the fuck is this? some creep? you say to yourself mentally. who starts a call with that?
you remove the phone from your ear to glance at the contact, before your heart drops.
toto wolff.
a brief realization settles in that you were talking to your boyfriend's employer, his boss, his team principal.
"—it's torger here, em, toto wolff," he is saying when you raise the phone back to your ear.
"right! toto hi, yes," you respond back, almost a little too quickly. "is everything alright?"
toto sighs, and you can just visualize him in his office, a hand clutching his forehead and the other throwing an imaginary headset in frustration.
"there's been a situation," he starts off before his voice drops an volume, "—with kimi. the, ah, food shipment was ordered late then delayed, so he wasn't able to eat."
your polite, cautionary tone with toto completely goes out the window.
"what..? how does that happen? he hasn't eaten since australia!"
you were never one to play with when it came to kimi's wellbeing. every feeding was planned out, on time, in order to prevent the vampire "hunger frenzy" that was well documented in the media. mercedes had paid a pretty penny in order for the blood dispensary to send discreet deliveries to satiate kimi's hunger.
this time, toto's tone sounds apologetic, almost.
"yes, i understand. we are hoping his previous feed can last until after the race today, but we are checking to see if any shipments can be expedited. for now, it seems like kimi has shut himself in his drivers' room."
we are checking...taking a page out of ferrari's book, huh?
"the race is starting in a five hours and we really need kimi... out in the garage by then. he's refused to talk to anyone and keeps asking for you. will you be able to get here—?"
toto didn't have a chance to finish his sentence before you snip back, angered at mercedes' incompetence.
"don't touch him before i get there. mercedes better fly the bags to shanghai, first class, priority shipping, whatever you need to do, now."
"kimi, open up please," you whisper through the crack of his drivers room door. "it's me."
a hiss sounds through the flimsy aluminium— a warning sound that would typically scare off anyone else.
however, ten months into your relationship, you were practically immune to his tactics—he was all bark and no bite—so you yank open the door anyways.
at once, familiar metallically sweet scent wraps around you, beckoning you forward naturally like a moth to a flame. it's the smell that naturally seeps from kimi, lulling you into a familiar sense of comfort.
the room is a mess. sergi's resistance bands were all over the floor, his mercedes team kits laid in crumpled heaps on the ground, and stack of unsigned fan cards sprawl everywhere, corners creased and bent. kimi curls up in the middle of it all, back heaving, gasping.
"-i need, i need," kimi repeats like a broken record.
fuck.
once you slam the door closed, you hurriedly drop down in a kneel by his side. kimi stirs at the sound of your knees thumping to the ground, letting out a weak whimper at your presence.
your fingers loop into his brown curls in order to raise his head towards you, allowing you to assess his features in a desperate attempt to see how far he is gone.
kimi's eyelids flutter open and closed, exposing wandering eyes and pupils blown so wide that you could barely see the whiskey brown of his irises.
when his hazy mind finally lets his eyes lock onto the sight of your face, his mouth immediately drops open, wet and pink, exposing his fully extended fangs.
it's like the sight of you unlocks something feral in him — something dark and untamed.
unstable hands scrabble frantically at you, yearning.
"kimi, i—"
what the fuck did toto expect you to do? you weren't a vampire expert. the majority of the knowledge you had came from google searches and vampire movies that kimi complained were inaccurate, and of course, from kimi himself. however, it didn’t take an expert to know that kimi was in no condition to head out the the garages.
wrenching yourself from kimi's grasp, you ransack his bags, looking for anything substantial. notebooks, his paddock pass, and racing gloves make their way from his shelves onto the floor, and yet you come up with nothing.
behind you, kimi stumbles up out of his curled-up state. he looks as desperate as you feel when his fingers wander towards you again— towards your body. you can feel the imprint of his muscled body press against you, firm but with no warmth. his mouth finds a home on pulse point.
as far gone as he looked, kimi had some type of semblance to restrain himself from breaking the skin. still, he did not restrain from clamping down hard enough to satiate his biting instincts and break the delicate vessels that lie underneath.
a strangled gasp leaves your mouth.
kimi must be able to feel it — the thing he hungers for, lusts for, all in one, close enough that he can almost taste it.
you try to fumble through his bag again to find any hidden compartments with an emergency blood supply while kimi's hands begin to wander up under your shirt, tracing. vessels, veins, arteries with names he doesn't bother learning.
it's only when kimi's hand start to dip under your belt when you realize his intention.
you stand up quick enough that you feel lightheaded and push him away with great difficulty than before.
"why don't you lay down on the couch," you suggest instead, breathless.
as much as you want to reciprocate, you restrain yourself. it's not him— the kimi you know. he's under some type of spell of hunger, yes, a hunger spell, that somehow makes him act like this. you just have to keep him at bay long enough for mercedes to come with the blood bags, and then he will be normal again, the sweet and kind kimi that just so happens to have a pair of fangs.
he whines like it's painful when you are severed from his touch, and you have to practically wrestle him into a lying position on long end of the the small l-shaped couch.
kimi settles for grasping ahold your arm, grip bruising, while you sit at the head of the sofa. it's subtle, but you can see the way he twitches, hips jerking up subtly.
fuck.
you're not sure how long you can hold this up for, seeing your boyfriend in this state.
fumbling for your phone, you dial toto.
one ring, two rings, three rings, go by.
"the person you are calling is unavailable. please try—"
sergi.
"you have reached—"
rosa.
"hi there! it's rosa venegas. i'm not available to take your—"
you grit your teeth.
bono.
"hello?"
"ohmygodbono," you exhale in one breath. "no one is answering my calls. is there an update on the delivery or...?"
his english accent peeks through as he speaks.
"everyone is trying to fix the issue. i heard it was on it's way, but i'm not sure the exact whereabouts of the shipment. i'm really sorry. is everything alright there with kimi? do i need to call anyone? the medics?"
you turn your head to look at kimi. his eyebrows are scrunched, almost in pain, and he mouths at the pulse on your wrist. when he looks up at you, his irises, edging out toward the sclera, are almost jet-black.
you're quick to voice your refusal to bono. the chance of this incidence spilling to the non-mercedes media would skyrocket, ultimately causing the ruination of kimi's career. they would chalk up his success to his supernatural abilities and call him a monster behind his back.
"i'll manage," you sigh.
bono sounds unsure but ultimately murmurs an agreement before hanging up.
kimi lasts all but ten minutes before he starts hyperventilating again, breaths heavy. your bare touch becomes insufficient; he needs more, craves more.
"mi bella, per fervore," he moans, voice all slurred. he resorts back to his native language, mind too hazy to translate.
your eyes rake over kimi's writhing body before flickering back to your phone where a google page is pulled up to a frantic search.
google spits out one singular match: here are results with the keywords "vampire", "hungry", "horny".
you pull up the anonymous post, last updated twelve years ago.
vampires in heat ??? the title reads. i read somewhere that apparently some vampires get frenzied, both in hunger and lust when they are starved long enough. is this real? can anybody confirm??
nuttinbutt295 replies: 100% real. i have a friend who is involved in that stuff and his boyfriend literally went ballistic after he missed his feeding time once. some omega in heat shit. crazy stuff. you didn't hear it from me though.
right.
you weren't sure how much you could trust a user named nuttinbutt295 from twelve years ago, but it was all the information you had. a confirmation of kimi's symptoms.
from the look of it, kimi was already too far gone. quote on quote ballistic. in heat.
with the promised delivery nowhere in sight, what else could you do but to quench kimi's thirst?
you both have done this before, but never in this state.
kimi's anguished pants become low guttural moans when you finally comply with what he's begging for.
your perfect pussy, enveloped around his needy cock.
it's slippery and wet in the place where you meet. kimi slides in like he belongs there, like he's meant to be there. it's how a plant reaches for a sun and a river reaches for the ocean— instinctual and natural.
kimi manhandles you with his muscular arms, moving you up and down his dick like it is nothing. gone is his weak, fatigued state. he moves with a sense of purpose now, tongue tucked in the corner of his mouth next to his fangs in the way he does when he's concentrated.
he somehow hits that spongey spot in you that makes your toes curl and eyes roll into the back of your head every time. you wonder if he uses his heightened senses to feel that rush of ecstasy in you.
all too aware of your position entrapped in the paper thin walls of kimi's driver room, you force yourself to bite your lip to constrain your moans, yet there's nothing you can do to quiet the lewd slaps of skin on skin that echo through the room.
"kimi— hah— fuck—"
a cry bubbles up in your throat, vulnerable and mortifying, causing you to muffle it by biting down on your bottom lip hard.
you realize your mistake the same time kimi smells it.
blood.
a scarlet rivulet drips from your mouth from the wound, tracing a trail down the swell of your bitten-raw lips.
kimi's head snaps from its home in the crook of your neck to face you, watching the rivulet like a child at a candy store. his breaths quicken, brain going into overdrive.
it's primal instinct, the way a wolf zeroes in on its prey, senses sharpening.
kimi's mouth chases yours, and you feel him ferally licking up the sweetness dripping from you. his hips lurch and thrusts become frantic.
a fountain of ichor, flowing just for him. so addictive and syrupy, ambrosia on earth.
"bite," you suddenly whisper into his mouth, voice thin and ragged.
kimi's rhythm falters minutely.
your voice raises a pitch higher, firm.
"bite me, kimi."
kimi can see it when you come on his cock, pushed over the edge by his bite, body shaking in his arms. he hears you too, ears ringing with your strangled gasp. best of all, he tastes it—the rush of adrenaline in your blood that he licks up from the wound on your neck as he chases his own high.
when he finally comes, seed pumping into your sopping pussy, his eyes glow black and his mind goes blank.
you both bathe in the calm afterglow, lazily redressed.
kimi laps like a puppy dog at your neck, catching the drizzles of thick blood.
he moans in contentment.
"that good, huh?" you giggle, running a hand through the sweaty curls that line the nape of his neck.
"mm, like morphine," he replies, tone light and hazy.
he reminds you of those videos online of the soup-shaped kittens, bellies full and satisfied.
a sudden sharp rap on the door the both of your attentions.
an employee with mercedes insignia plastered all over his shirt scoots in, a medical-grade bag filled with deep maroon liquid in his arms.
his face goes white when he sees the sight in front of him.
"the— the delivery for kimi..?" he stutters.
although you understand the poor employee has done no wrong, you can't help but to sneer at the sight of the overdue blood bag while kimi reattaches himself to your neck.
"tell toto that there's no need for that anymore," you instruct.
lando finds out oscar is gay and needs to know every detail (much to his dismay)
“You do know that this is crazy to hear, right?” Lando says, shaking his head as Oscar sighs and leans back against his teammates oven.
“Yup. That’ll be why I don’t tell anyone.”
“Hey it’s not like i’m exactly a homophobe-” Lando snorts, finding this situation far too funny as he hounds in on Oscar in his apartment kitchen.
Lando found out Oscar was gay by accident. While Lando shrugged it off, mostly because of how uncomfortable Oscar seemed, Oscar spent the next two days having a freak out which ended him at Lando’s doorstep in Monaco.
He wanted to get it over with. Lando’s questions, that is. Oscar knows Lando, they’ve been teammates for years! He knows how annoying he can be, especially when new information is made known.
Oscar being gay is like the WDC of new information.
“Okay just tell me this-” Lando is grinning like a maniac, his arm bracing the rest of his body against the counter.
He points up and then he points down and then… He points at Oscar.
Oscar, stone faced as always, licks his lips. “You can’t ask me that, Norris.”
“Why not?” Lando grins, “I’m not being an asshole I just wanna know- Okay, bad use of words…”
“Lando.”
“Would it help if I answer?” Lando quirks a brow as Oscar swallows.
“You wanna take a guess on if I take it-”
“I meant me.” Lando sniffs, standing up straight and holding his ground.
For the first time in a long time, Oscar seems… taken back. “I uh… Didn’t know.”
“Kinda surprised, mate.” Lando shrugs as if he didn’t just out himself, “So… you gonna answer?”
Oscar is stern faced as he crosses his arms against his chest, His eyes lock straight on Lando’s when he clenches he jaw. Yeah, neither of them need to hear him say it.
Lando nods and pretends like his ears aren’t hot at the quiet confidence which his teammate doesn’t know how to turn off.
Oscar hums. “Guess both of us are easier to read then I realized.”
Lando’s head snaps up, “Hey, for the record, i’m totally a switch.” Lando scoffs as Oscar snorts.
“Sure, Lan.”
“I can top!”
“Yeah, that waist really screams I fuck guys.” Oscar deadpans.
“Waist- So you’re looking at my waist now?” Oscar watches him squirm. “Jeez you become gay like two seconds ago-”
“I’ve been gay for a lot longer than i’ve known you.”
“What other part of me have you been checking out?” Oscar pulls his mouth together as Lando smiles. Got him.
And then Oscar gets him right back. “You’re a brat.”
Lando almost chokes. “Excuse me?”
“You’re a fucking brat, Lando. No chance in hell have you ever topped.”
“I have! What the fuck!?”
“You’re too needy. I don’t believe it.”
“Oh yeah?” Lando stomps right up to Oscar with a face full of determination, “Get on your knees.”
Oscar finds it… cute. “Can’t hear you.”
“Get on your fucking knees.” Lando repeats, straightening his shoulders, “Brat.”
Oscars eyes track up and down Lando’s soft attempt at making a well disguised move. The australian takes a step forward with a hum, putting his hands firmly on Lando’s hips and backing him up against his fridge.
Oscar takes a second, looking ever so slightly down at Lando who swallows. The top of his cheeks are pink and this close, Oscar can see the scar of the top of his nose.
Lando tips his chin up. “You gonna kiss me, Piastri?”
Oscar rolls his eyes and mumbles, “Fucking brat…” Before gripping his teammates hips tighter and kissing the lips which with every sharp and smirky insult, has been the object of Oscar’s desire.
hii can i request a jealous kimi fic if youre comfortable maybe smut? i loved your previous smuts thanks ❤️
jealousy, jealousy - KA12
a guy's unwelcome flirting makes kimi more jealous than he should be.
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pairing: boyfriend!kimi x fem!reader
contains: smut smut smut, oral (f receiving), p in v, creampie, dirty talk (kinda?), swearing
word count: 1.6k
authors note: hii thank you!! hope you like it x
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SMUT BELOW, MINORS DNI
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The whole club was buzzing with the sound of the loud music playing, people were dancing and drinking, and you were sitting at one of the tables with Kimi's hands around your shoulder. He just won the Belgian grand prix and you took him out to celebrate along with the other drivers and their girlfriends, as you thought he could use a little relaxation and fun before the next race week, but oh boy you didn't know what you signed up to.
What you certainly didn't know is that he was tense the entire night. You looked stunning, a small black dress that hugged your figure just right shimmering on your body from the glitters on it, your hair and makeup absolutely flawless, it was driving him insane. He could feel all the other stares on you, that's why he kept you close to him the entire night. Atleast almost the entire night.
You excused yourself from the table as you went to get another round of drinks, Kimi insisting to go with you but you told him it's fine, the table wasn't that far away from the bar anyways.
"2 more vodka sodas please," you smiled at the bartender. As he was preparing your drink you felt a hand around your shoulder, not paying attention to it as you thought it was just Kimi again, but then you heard another familiar voice.
"Enjoying the night?" you looked in his direction as you saw your old "friend", the faint smell of alcohol in his breath hitting you. You both talked for a while before you met Kimi but never turned into anything serious, which he knew about. You quickly grabbed his hand and removed it from your shoulder, which earned you a surprised stare in response.
"Yeah, I'm getting drinks for me and my boyfriend," you said, hoping that he would get the hint and leave you alone.
"Oh?" he said, leaning closer.
You leaned back, watching the bartender hoping that he will be quick and you can leave.
"You know, I kinda miss talking to you," he said again, slightly slurring on his words as you could tell he was a bit drunk already.
"Didn't you talk to like 5 other girls besides me?" you replied with a sarcastic tone, you were the one to break contact with him after realizing he just led you on for months. It wasn't anything serious either, you only went on one date with him where nothing really happened.
"Still, you were really special to me," he replied. You just laughed as the bartender handed you your drinks, and you got up to walk back to your table.
As you stood up he grabbed your waist, but before you could do anything you felt his arms being forcefully removed. You looked up and you already saw Kimi standing behind him, his jaw tight and eyes full of anger.
"Touch her again and I'll break your fucking arm," he said in the most serious tone you've ever heard from him.
The guy quickly understood the signals now and walked away, shooting you a last glance. You kissed Kimi's cheek, thanking him for stepping up, but as you wanted to walk back to the table he stopped you.
"Nuh uh, we're leaving," he said.
"What?-" but before you could argue back he already grabbed your hand and led you through the crowd.
The cool night air hit your skin as you stepped out from the club, Kimi taking off his jacket and wrapping it around you. Before you could ask what is with the sudden mood switch he kissed you, but it wasn't any kiss, it was hungry and full of need. It caught you offguard but you kissed him back. As he pulled away you could see how tense he was, despite you wanting to come to this party to let him have some fun.
"Was this the guy you told me about?"
"Yeah," you replied. His teeth clenched, and you couldn't help but feel a little heat growing between your legs. Was it the previous kiss, or was it the fact that he was so jealous and protective of you? You couldn't tell.
He grabbed your hand intertwining your fingers, and since your hotel was close to the club you both started walking towards it in a fast pace. He didn't say anything, but you could read everything from his face. He was frustrated.
As you arrived and the elevator doors closed behind you, and he kissed you again, this time with more passion if it was even possible. You both just sloppily maked out until you arrived on your floor, him picking you up effortlessly in his arms before the door opened and walking towards your door.
The door shut behind you with a loud slam and he took off your heels for you as he still didn't put you down, kicking his shoes off in the meantime. When he was finished he went straight to the bedroom, laying you down on the bed and crawling on top of you, straddling you as he kissed every inch of your body.
"What is this about?" you giggled, trying to play the oblivious but you exactly knew what it was about.
"I've been going fucking crazy the entire night-" he replied breathless. "You looked so stunning, and fuck I couldn't stand seeing all the guys that checked you out,"
Before you could reply he attacked your mouth again, lifting you up slightly so he could reach the zipper on your back. When he unzipped your dress he took it off and tossed it in the room somewhere, looking at your bare body and licking his lips at the sight infront of him.
There were no words coming out of you as he pulled your panties down, your chest already heaving up and down from the growing arousal between your legs. Kimi always seemed to have this effect on you, which he always let you know about.
"Fuck baby, you're already this wet?" he smirked. You nodded, waiting for him to do something, but he just watched you and waited. He started circling your clit painfully slow, which made you whimper but it wasn't enough, and he knew that.
"Tell me I'm the only one who can make you feel like this," he said while he moved his fingers in a slow rhythm, pressing small kisses on your thighs and your core.
"Fuck Kimi yes, you're the only one-" before you could even finish your sentence he already put two fingers in you, curling them just right. You moaned out loud, the pleasure already overwhelming your body.
As he kept pumping his fingers in and out of you you arched your back into the matress and he chuckled, licking a slow strip on your core, his hot breath fanning on your bare clit.
"I bet that guy couldn't do this, right baby?" he said.
It was kinda funny how irritated he could get by someone you didn't even talk to in like 3 years, but at the same time it was really turning you on.
"Yes, he cou-" and your words were interrupted once again by your moans, as he started circling his tongue between your folds. He was moving crazy fast and he was already pushing you towards the edge, your toes curling and your vision seeing stars.
"Come on baby, come for me pretty girl," he mumbled as he kept moving his tongue, and as he curled his fingers in you once again you started shaking around his face, your orgasm washing over you. He worked you through it and he pulled his fingers out, looking at your already outfucked face even tho he only made you come once.
Your breathing was heavy, not even a word coming out as he kissed your forehead, but before he could lay down besides you you grabbed his neck and started kissing him again, taking off his shirt in the meantime.
"I need you inside of me," you managed to say it out as he just looked in your eyes, chuckling.
"You're such a slut for me," he said as he unbuttoned his pants and pulled them down. You helped him take off his boxers, his hard cock already flopping against his stomach. You switched places with him, making him lay against the headboard as you positioned yourself.
"Good girl," he smiled as he tucked your hair away from your face. You grabbed his shoulders and slowly sank down on him, the stretch making you both moan out loud. He grabbed your hips as you slowly started bouncing yourself up and down, the stimulation being too much from your previous orgasm.
The room filled with the sounds of whimpers and skin slapping, as you both neared your edge. He could sense that you were starting to get tired, your movements slowing down and breathing getting heavier.
Just when you thought the pleasure couldn't be anymore intense he grabbed your hips with even more force enough to leave marks, and he started thrusting up into you. You didn't last long as he kept hitting that sweet spot inside of you, you continuing to grind against him as another orgasm washed over you, your legs nearly giving out.
Before you could crash down on his lap he started circling your clit again, the sensitivity from your previous orgasm making you whine out loud.
"Come on love, you can give me one more," he said as his breathing was starting to get heavier aswell. It only took a few more thrusts before another orgasm came, you collapsing on top of him as your vision whitened out. It didn't take long for him to come inside you aswell, his beautiful moans echoing through the room.
You both stayed like that for a few seconds, his hands coming up to stroke small circles on your back.
"That was...." You couldn't even finish your sentence, your chest heaving up and down. "You should get jealous more often,"
He chuckled, kissing the top of your head. "You know I can't stand other guys looking at what's mine,"
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Can I request a really cute and fluffy story about Kimi antonelli?
Something like the reader loves to get her nails done, buy books, buy clothes, etc but she always holds herself back because she doesn’t feel like she deserves to get spoiled? Then obviously kimi notices and spoils her to oblivion!
I hope that made sense. I’m really new to Tumblr and I absolutely adore your fics sooo I’m really looking forward to what masterpiece you come up with. Thank u :D
You Deserve the World So Let Me Buy it For You - KA12
pairing: kimi antonelli x fem!gf!reader
synopsis: Andrea Kimi Antonelli has finally had enough of it. So, he takes matters (and his limitless black card) into his own hands, determined to entirely dismantle the idea that his gf shouldn't be spoiled to oblivion.
wc: 2.6k
note: hello besties <3 hope this likes you!! thanks for your request i love it, maybe a Kimi will find me 🥺🤧
The spine of the special edition hardback was beautiful—embossed with gold foil and intricately designed. You ran your fingers over it, your eyes lighting up the way they always did when you found something you loved.
Standing a few feet away, Kimi watched you with a soft smile playing on his lips. He loved this version of you: completely captivated, entirely in your element. He waited for you to tuck the book under your arm and head toward the cash register.
Instead, he watched your shoulders drop. You turned the book over, glanced at the price tag, and let out a quiet, barely audible sigh. Carefully, almost reluctantly, you placed the book back onto the shelf and took a step away.
"Not getting it, amore?" Kimi asked, stepping up behind you and wrapping an arm loosely around your waist. He pressed a soft kiss to your temple.
You leaned into his touch, offering a tight smile. "No, it's fine. I have way too many unread books sitting on my nightstand at home. It’s too expensive anyway. I don't really need it."
Kimi frowned slightly, his brow furrowing as he looked from the book to your face. He knew for a fact you had been talking about this specific release for three months. "Y/N, if you want it, just get it. Or let me get it for you."
"No, Kimi, really," you insisted, already walking toward the exit of the bookstore. "It's a waste of money. I don't deserve to treat myself right now anyway, I haven't even finished the last one I bought."
He didn't push the issue right then, but as he followed you out into the warm afternoon sun, a realization clicked into place. It wasn't just the book.
It was the clothes, too. Last week in Milan, you had tried on a gorgeous silk dress that fit you like a glove. You looked absolutely breathtaking, and your reflection in the mirror had made you smile so brightly. But the moment the shop assistant asked if you were taking it, you practically ripped it off, claiming the color washed you out—a blatant lie just to avoid the guilt of the price tag.
It was your nails, as well. You loved having long, intricately designed acrylics. You used to spend hours scrolling through Pinterest looking at nail art. But for the last two months, your nails had been bare, chipped from your own nervous picking. When he’d asked about it, you’d shrugged and said, “I don’t want to be high-maintenance. Getting them done is too much of a luxury.”
Kimi gripped the steering wheel a little tighter as he drove the two of you back to his apartment. He hated it. He hated that you constantly made yourself smaller, that you denied yourself the things that brought you joy because of some misplaced guilt. You supported him through the exhausting chaos of his racing career, dealt with his chaotic travel schedules, and loved him so selflessly.
You deserved the entire world, and it broke his heart that you didn't see it.
That night, while you were curled up on the couch in one of his oversized Mercedes hoodies, sound asleep with a movie playing quietly in the background, Kimi pulled out his phone.
He didn't just want to buy you a book or pay for a manicure. He wanted to entirely dismantle this idea you had that you didn't deserve to be spoiled. If you wouldn't treat yourself, Andrea Kimi Antonelli was going to do it for you.
First, he found the website for the most highly-rated, luxurious nail salon in the city and booked their longest, most premium VIP package for the next afternoon. Then, he texted a personal shopper at the boutique where you had left that silk dress, giving them your sizes and a very specific, unlimited budget. Finally, he logged onto the bookstore's website.
The next morning, you woke up to the smell of fresh coffee and pastries. You wandered into the kitchen, rubbing the sleep from your eyes, only to stop dead in your tracks.
Sitting perfectly on the kitchen island was a stack of five books—including the special edition you had put back yesterday, plus four others by the same author.
"Kimi?" you breathed out, your hands flying to your mouth as he walked in from the balcony, a steaming mug of coffee in his hand.
"Good morning, principessa," he smiled, setting the mug down and pulling you into his chest.
"Kimi, you shouldn't have," you stammered, looking at the stack of expensive books. The familiar wave of guilt started to rise in your chest. "This is too much, I don't deserve—"
"Stop right there," Kimi interrupted gently, his hands coming up to cup your face. His dark eyes locked onto yours, completely serious but entirely soft. "Do not finish that sentence, Y/N. You deserve this, and so much more. In fact, this is just the beginning."
You blinked, confused. "What do you mean?"
Kimi grinned, pressing a kiss to your nose. "Finish your coffee and go get dressed in something comfortable, but nice. We have an appointment in two hours."
"An appointment? For what?"
"Your nails," he said simply, his thumb tracing your cheekbone. "And after that, you're going to try on some clothes. And every single time you tell me something is 'too expensive' or that you 'don't need it,' I'm buying it in three different colors."
The drive to the salon was a blur of nervous energy for you and quiet, determined confidence from Kimi. When he pulled up to a sleek, frosted-glass storefront in one of the most upscale districts of the city, your stomach did a familiar little flip of anxiety.
"Kimi, this place is..." You trailed off, looking at the minimalist gold lettering on the window. "This is where celebrities go. A basic manicure here is probably the price of my weekly groceries."
Kimi simply unbuckled his seatbelt, leaned over, and kissed the corner of your mouth. "Good thing you aren't paying, amore."
He stepped out, rounded the car, and opened your door, offering his hand. Resigned but secretly thrilled, you took it.
Inside, the salon smelled of lavender and expensive vanilla. A receptionist greeted Kimi by name, immediately ushering the two of you into a private VIP suite in the back. There were plush velvet chairs, complimentary champagne, and a nail technician waiting with a massive array of color swatches.
You sat down, instantly overwhelmed. "I'll just get a solid color," you told the technician quickly, playing with the rings on your fingers. "Just a short gel manicure is fine. No extensions."
Kimi, who had made himself comfortable on a velvet sofa directly across from you, immediately sat forward. He caught the technician's eye.
"She’s lying," Kimi said smoothly, a teasing but firm smile on his face. He looked at you. "Show her your Pinterest board, Y/N."
"Kimi—"
"The board," he repeated, raising an eyebrow. "I know you have a folder called 'Nail Inspo.' I saw you looking at it three days ago. Show her the ones with the tiny hand-painted stars and the long almond shape. That's what she's getting."
The technician beamed, clearly delighted to have a canvas to work on, while your cheeks flushed crimson. "It takes hours to do that art," you whispered, trying to protest one last time.
"I have nowhere else to be," Kimi replied easily, leaning back and pulling his phone out. "Take your time. Make them perfect."
For the next two hours, you sat in absolute luxury. Every time you glanced over, afraid Kimi was getting bored, he was either answering emails or simply watching you with a soft, affectionate gaze. When the technician finally finished and applied a rich cuticle oil, you held your hands up to the light. The long almond extensions were flawless, painted in a sheer nude with delicate, intricate gold stars scattered across them. You couldn't stop staring at them.
"Beautiful," Kimi murmured, coming up behind your chair and gently tracing your newly manicured fingers. "Matches you perfectly."
You turned to thank him, the guilt fighting a losing battle against the sheer joy bubbling in your chest, but before you could speak, he was pulling you toward the door.
"Thank you," Kimi told the staff, handing over his sleek black card before you could even catch a glimpse of the total. "Now, we have a personal shopper waiting."
If the nail salon was luxurious, the boutique was on an entirely different level. When you arrived, the doors were locked to the public. A well-dressed woman named Elena greeted Kimi with a kiss on both cheeks before leading you to a massive private dressing room.
Hanging on a gold rack were dozens of garments. Dresses, trousers, cashmere sweaters, tailored coats—and right in the center, the emerald green silk dress you had abandoned in Milan a week ago.
"How did you get that?" you gasped, walking over to brush your fingers against the soft silk.
"I have my ways," Kimi smirked, dropping onto the plush ottoman in the center of the room. "Try it on. Try all of it on."
You spent the next hour walking in and out of the dressing room. Every instinct you had honed over the years screamed at you to check the price tags, but Elena had completely removed them at Kimi's request.
You stepped out wearing a stunning, heavy-knit cream sweater and a perfectly tailored skirt. "It’s really beautiful," you admitted, looking in the three-way mirror. "But the wool is so thick, I probably wouldn't wear it enough to justify—"
"Elena, we'll take it," Kimi said without missing a beat.
"Wait, I didn't say I wanted it!" you argued, turning to him.
"You said it was beautiful. That's all the justification you need," he countered, pointing to the rack. "Next."
A few outfits later, you emerged in a breathtaking evening gown. It swept the floor, catching the light with every movement. You felt like an absolute princess, but the familiar heavy anchor of guilt dropped in your chest.
"Kimi, this is too much," you said, your voice cracking slightly. You wrapped your arms around yourself. "I don't have anywhere to wear this. I don't deserve to have thousands of euros spent on me in one afternoon. I'm just... me. You don't have to buy my love."
Kimi’s playful demeanor instantly vanished. He stood up, crossing the room in two long strides, and gently took your hands, pulling them away from your chest.
"Look at me, Y/N," he said quietly, his dark eyes fiercely serious. "I am not buying your love. I already have it, and it is the greatest privilege of my life. I am doing this because you spend so much time taking care of everyone else, making yourself small, and denying yourself happiness over a price tag. You deserve to be spoiled. You deserve nice things simply because they make you smile."
He lifted one of your hands, pressing a kiss to your knuckles, right over the gold stars on your nails.
"You are not a burden. You are not high-maintenance," he whispered, his thumb brushing away a stray tear that escaped your eye. "You are my girl. And as long as you are with me, you are going to be treated like it. Do you understand?"
You let out a shaky breath, nodding slowly as the weight you’d been carrying for years finally began to crack and fall away. "I understand."
Kimi smiled, the bright, boyish grin you loved so much returning. He kissed you softly, lingering for a moment before pulling back.
"Good," he said, turning his head to look at the personal shopper who was pretending very hard to arrange scarves in the corner. "Elena? We're taking the evening gown. And the green silk dress. Actually, you know what? We'll just take the whole rack."
The trunk of Kimi's car was completely packed. So was the backseat. By the time the two of you managed to haul all the shopping bags, boxes, and garment bags up to his apartment, you were both breathless and laughing.
The living room floor was practically covered in boutique bags, the glossy packaging gleaming under the warm overhead lights. You stood in the center of it all, looking around at the sheer volume of things he had bought for you. The heavy guilt that usually accompanied even buying a simple coffee for yourself was entirely gone, replaced by a warm, glowing sense of being deeply, truly cherished.
"I don't even know where I'm going to put all of this," you laughed, shaking your head as you kicked off your shoes. "Your closet is going to be completely overrun."
"Good," Kimi said, shedding his jacket and tossing it over the back of the sofa. He walked over to you, wrapping his arms around your waist from behind and pulling your back flush against his chest. He rested his chin on your shoulder, looking at the beautiful chaos of shopping bags. "I've been telling you to move more of your things in any way. Consider this my strategy to claim all your drawer space."
You leaned your head back against his shoulder, letting out a soft, contented sigh. You lifted your hands, catching the light on your new, starry nails. They were so perfectly you, and every time you looked at them, you felt a little spark of joy.
"Thank you, Kimi," you said softly. This time, there were no 'buts' attached. No 'but it was too much', or 'but you shouldn't have'. Just genuine, unapologetic gratitude.
Kimi noticed the shift immediately. He smiled against your skin, pressing a kiss to the curve of your neck. "You're welcome, principessa."
You turned in his arms, looping yours around his neck to look up into his dark, expressive eyes. "I mean it. Not just for the clothes or the nails or the books. Thank you for... making me see it. For not letting me shrink myself today."
"I'll never let you shrink yourself, Y/N," he promised, his voice dropping to a softer, more intimate register. He brushed a stray lock of hair behind your ear, his touch infinitely gentle. "You light up every room you walk into. It’s about time you let yourself enjoy the spotlight a little bit."
You smiled, leaning up to press a sweet, lingering kiss to his lips. He responded instantly, his hands tightening slightly on your waist, pulling you impossibly closer. When you finally pulled away, you were both smiling.
"Now," Kimi said, taking a step back and gesturing toward the kitchen counter, where the stack of books from this morning was still waiting. "I believe you have a special edition hardback that has been calling your name for three months. And I have a very comfortable couch that requires our immediate attention."
"Are you going to let me read in peace, or are you going to distract me?" you teased, walking over to grab the book.
"I make no promises," Kimi grinned, already dropping onto the plush sofa and pulling a throw blanket over his legs. He patted the space right between them. "Come here."
You curled up against him, resting your back against his chest. His arms instinctively wrapped around you, providing the perfect, warm cocoon. As you cracked open the spine of the beautiful gold-foiled book, your starry nails resting perfectly on the crisp pages, Kimi pressed one last kiss to the top of your head.
You had the perfect book, the perfect nails, a closet full of gorgeous clothes waiting to be unpacked, and the boy you loved holding you close. For the first time in a long time, you didn't question if you deserved it. You just let yourself be happy.
since when does tumblr have so many top trans guys? that's literally so weird? why are you all so sexual? when will you be in my DMs? when will you tell me to shut up and keep gagging on my fingers and then tell me to finger myself until I'm cumming? when will you make me suck your tcocks like I'm a toy made for solely your pleasure?
The sun had climbed high, but time meant nothing. I was faced down in the forest dirt, ass up, trembling and exposed. The wolf’s knot was still locked deep inside me—fat, swollen, pulsing so hard I swore I could feel it bulging through my tummy.
Every little grind of his hips made me cry out, not even words anymore… Just squeaks, sobs, broken whimpers spilling into the grovel. The slick between us was endless, soaking my thighs, dripping down to the ground. Every move made a sticky, obscene squelch, as though our bodies weren’t separate anymore, but fusing together at the knot.
The beast leaned over me, heavy, scenting the top of my head like I was already marked. “That’s it,” he murmured, voice low and satisfied, his breath hot against my ear. “You’re gone, aren’t you? My pretty bunny’s brain all melted from knot.”
I twitched, back arching as another orgasm ripped through me without warning, my body clenching and fluttering around him, milking him harder. My cotton tail quivered against his stomach, twitching helplessly as more slick gushed out, making the sounds between us wetter, filthier.
“You keep leaking, keep milking me,” he growled, claws pressing into my hips until I squealed. “Pathetic little thing can’t stop, can’t help yourself. You’ll take every rut I’ve got until you can’t even breathe without my knot keeping you open.”
I whimpered, tears streaking down my cheeks, my body shuddering violently in overstimulation. I couldn’t move, couldn’t fight, couldn’t beg—just twitch and squeak while he kept grinding inside me.
“Good prey,” he whispered, his tone almost tender in its cruelty. “Stay knotted. Stay ruined. You’re mine until I decide you’re empty.”
And as the squelching rhythm dragged on—wet, sticky, endless—I realized he meant it... I wasn’t going anywhere. Not until the scary werewolf was finished breaking me apart.
pairing: f1 driver x fem!journalist!reader
synopsis: Y/N tries to outrun the ghost of her past by setting strict rules with a man who breaks them for a living. But when Emmanuel uses a public gala to force her back into his narrative, Y/N has to decide if she’s going to keep spinning in the revolving door, or get in the car and finally drive away. Part 1
Late December 2023
The problem with a single Instagram like is that, in Y/N’s world, it was never just a like. It was a digital earthquake.
By 9:00 AM, her phone had overheated twice. The Daily Sport had already published an unverified piece claiming she was "targeting a new paddock," and her mother had left four voicemails, each escalating in pitch and panic.
Y/N stood in her kitchen, staring at her coffee machine like it held the answers to the universe. She hadn't slept. Every time she closed her eyes, she felt the low hum of that matte black engine and saw the sharp curve of his jaw in the dashboard light.
He’s an athlete, her brain screamed. He lives in front of cameras. He has a PR team. He is exactly the kind of liability you just spent four years surviving.
"Dear God, please get him out of my head," she whispered to the empty room, pressing her palms against the cold marble counter. "I cannot do the WAG life again. I won't."
But then her phone buzzed on the counter. An unknown number. No text. Just a single dropped pin. The location was a private, members-only karting track on the outskirts of London.
-
-
Y/N's Private Notes
Tuesday, 11:34 AM
Reasons to ignore the dropped pin:
He drives cars for a living. Emmanuel hit a ball. It’s the same circus, just a different tent.
I'm finally starting to enjoy the quiet.
If I go, I’m proving the tabloids right.
I don't even know his last name (okay, I do, I Googled it at 3 AM, but still).
Reasons to go:
He didn't ask how I was doing.
-
-
She stared at the dropped pin for another twenty minutes. She thought about Emmanuel, about the suffocating hotel rooms, and the articles that called her a distraction. She thought about her mother’s "intellectual rebrand."
Then, she walked to her closet. She didn't reach for the conservative blazers she used to wear to press conferences. She grabbed a vintage leather jacket, a pair of dark sunglasses, and her keys.
She wasn't going as a journalist, and she wasn't going as a girlfriend. She was just going.
-
The karting track was located at the end of a heavily wooded, unmarked road. When Y/N pulled up, the parking lot was completely empty save for one low-slung, ridiculously expensive sports car.
The air smelled like burning rubber, high-octane fuel, and damp earth. There were no mechanics, no PR teams, no flashing cameras. Just the quiet hum of the cooling floodlights and the sharp echo of a single kart engine being cut off.
Y/N walked toward the pit lane, the gravel crunching beneath her boots. He was sitting in the kart, tugging off his helmet. His hair was damp with sweat, pushed back haphazardly, and he was wearing a simple, fire-retardant undershirt that clung to his shoulders. Without the suit and the sponsors, he didn't look like a global superstar. He just looked like a man who needed to disappear for a few hours.
He looked up and saw her. A slow, easy smile spread across his face.
"You found it," he said, tossing the helmet onto the passenger seat of the kart.
"Your pin drop was fairly accurate," Y/N replied, stopping a few feet away. She crossed her arms, the vintage leather of her jacket creaking slightly. "I almost didn't come. My mother has already drafted three separate press releases denying our existence."
He chuckled, stepping out of the kart and wiping grease off his hands with a rag. "And yet, here you are. No press releases in sight."
"I have conditions," Y/N stated, her voice steady. She wasn't going to let the adrenaline blur her lines. "If we are going to... whatever this is. Exist in the same space. I need you to understand something."
He leaned back against a stack of tires, giving her his full attention. "I'm listening."
"I am not looking for a relationship," she said, the words sharp and practiced. "I spent four years being a passenger in someone else's life. I held the coats, I smiled for the cameras, and I let my own engine stall so he could win. I'm not doing it again. I'm not going to be someone's 'anchor' or their 'support system' outside the paddock."
He watched her, his eyes tracing the hard set of her jaw. He didn't look offended. If anything, he looked intrigued.
"I don't want a destination," Y/N continued, taking a step closer, the scent of petrol wrapping around them. "I just want the thrill. No commitments, no labels. We're just two people driving too fast until we decide to hit the brakes. If you're looking for a good girl to sit in the garage and look pretty, you sent that pin to the wrong phone."
The Pilot tossed the rag aside. He closed the distance between them, his presence magnetic and overwhelming. He looked down at her, the corners of his eyes crinkling.
"Y/N," he murmured, his voice a low, gravelly rasp. "I have twenty people on my payroll whose entire job is to tell me what to do, where to be, and how to feel. The last thing I want is a relationship." He reached out, his thumb lightly brushing the lapel of her leather jacket. "A joyride with no brakes? That sounds exactly like what I need."
-
-
Y/N's Private Notes
Tuesday, 9:45 PM
It's just physical. It’s just proximity. It’s vehicular therapy.
I told him I don't want to be anchored, and he agreed. So why did it feel like my heart finally restarted the second he touched my jacket?
Stick to the plan, Y/N. You are the driver of your own life now. Do not hand over the keys.
-
The Global Sports Foundation Gala was the one event Y/N couldn't skip. Her father was on the board, and her mother had made it clear: “You will attend, you will wear the Carolina Herrera, and you will remind the sponsors that a Neville-Hadfield does not hide.”
She felt like a mannequin as she walked the champagne carpet. The flashing lights were blinding, but it was the whispers that truly stung. She knew what they were saying. She’s here. Is he here? What about the pregnancy?
She had just managed to escape to a quiet corner near the ice sculptures when she heard the voice that still made her stomach twist.
"You look beautiful, Y/N. As always."
Emmanuel.
He looked immaculate in a velvet tuxedo, holding a glass of champagne. He looked exactly like the man she had spent four years protecting, but his eyes were entirely empty.
"Emmanuel," Y/N said, her voice dropping ten degrees. "Where is Sofia? Shouldn't you be posing for the family-man photoshoot your PR team has been pushing all week?"
"Sofia is resting. The pregnancy is... taking a toll," he said, waving a hand dismissively as if discussing a minor inconvenience. He stepped closer, dropping his voice to a conspiratorial whisper. "I missed you, Y/N. This whole night... it feels wrong without you managing the room."
"I'm not your manager anymore, Em. And I'm not your safety net."
"I know," he sighed, looking genuinely exhausted. "I made a mistake. A massive one. The press is eating me alive, my game is worse than ever, and I realize now that you were the only one who kept me grounded."
Before Y/N could process the audacity of his words, a flash went off. Then another.
Emmanuel had subtly positioned them so that the photographers hovering near the entrance had a clear shot. He reached out and gently touched her arm, looking down at her with a perfectly calculated expression of longing and regret.
He’s using me, she realized with a sickening jolt. His 'family man' angle isn't fixing his reputation, so he’s trying to sell the 'tragic, yearning ex' narrative to gain sympathy.
"Get your hand off me," Y/N whispered through a gritted, camera-ready smile. "You don't miss me. You miss the shield I provided. You're a revolving door, Emmanuel. You only come back when you've run out of options."
She pulled away sharply, turning her back on him and the cameras, and walked straight out of the ballroom.
-
-
Y/N snapped her head up.
Bypassing the line of waiting limousines and the frustrated valet attendants, the matte black sports car pulled smoothly up to the curb. The tinted passenger window rolled down.
The Pilot was wearing a simple black t-shirt and a pair of dark jeans, looking completely out of place at a black-tie gala, yet utterly unbothered.
"Get in," he said, his voice cutting through the noise of the street.
Y/N didn't hesitate. She didn't look back to see if the photographers had caught her. She just opened the door, gathered the skirts of her Carolina Herrera gown, and slid into the low bucket seat.
As the car roared away from the curb, leaving the gala and the flashing lights in the dust, the Pilot glanced at her.
"I saw the articles," he said simply. "Figured you might need a faster exit than a valet could provide."
"You shouldn't be here," Y/N breathed, her heart hammering against her ribs, the adrenaline washing away the lingering toxicity of Emmanuel’s touch. "If they get a photo of us... the 'no strings' plan gets a lot more complicated."
The Pilot shifted gears, the engine growling in response. He reached over, his hand resting lightly on the center console, close enough that she could feel the heat radiating from his skin.
"I told you, Y/N. I like complicated liabilities."
She watches training with her dad. Lamine misses an easy shot. Without realising he can hear her, she mutters, “Even i would’ve scored that.” He turns around and says “…Would u?”
alter it however u want
A challenge
Synopsis: Your mockery of Lamine’s bad kick does not end well
Pairings: Lmaine yamal x fem!reader
Tw: fluff, reader doesn't know lamine well
It was an open training day, and anyone could come watch Barcelona players' morning exercises at the open neighborhood stadium. Luckily for you, your father had connections that got him seats for the two of you in the very front row, right in front of the players, close enough to see everything clearly. Since the stadium was open there were no barriers between the pitch and the stands, and they were very close to each other. The place wasn't really crowded either — just people from the neighborhood and acquaintances of the players.
You sat there swinging your leg with boredom on your seat. Your father had disappeared with an acquaintance he'd run into by chance, and you hadn't really been interested in coming — but your father had insisted. You watched the players taking turns lining up toward the goal, each one taking his shot.
Finally it came to the last person's turn, after which the training would finally end. He had tan skin and curly hair with blonde highlights, and a clean fade that looked like it had been cut yesterday. You remembered seeing him before — Lamine Yamal or something like that.
The boy approached the ball, and despite the high confidence radiating from his body suggesting he never missed, he completely botched what was a totally easy shot.
"Even I would've scored that." you said sarcastically — before stopping when you noticed him turning toward you.
Did he hear you...?
You were very close to the pitch but Seriously
He went and took the ball from the goalkeeper, and instead of heading to the substitutes' bench, he was walking toward you. Something about what was happening felt off-script — why on earth was he coming toward you?
"Would you?" he said when he got close in front of you, his height blocking the sunlight from you. You could see the thickness of his eyebrows from this proximity.
"What..."
He surprised you by throwing the ball against your chest and gesturing for you to come with him, heading toward the front of the goal.
"He's not serious..." When you noticed that everyone had already been looking at you the whole time, you got up from your seat and went to him.
He took the ball from your arms and placed it on the ground. You looked at the goalkeeper during that, who also seemed confused, not knowing whether to take his position or not.
When you looked back at him he was already looking at you, pointing at the ball. "Kick."
"Like — a goal?"
"Yes, a goal."
His expression was completely neutral. The whole thing was strange — bizarre — but if kicking the ball would get you out of all this, you'd do it.
Or so you thought.
Your shot was a failure. The goalkeeper caught it with zero effort. Some of the crowd clapped for you — maybe to honor your attempt despite it being a complete failure, or for the sake of this strange little performance.
He stood there watching your sorry ball roll away, hands on his hips, before you heard him mutter sarcastically: "Even I would've scored that.."
Questions started piling up in your head. Seriously? He did all that because of what you said?
"Isn't it better for players to have some sportsmanship?"
He finally turned toward you and looked more natural now — he was being completely sarcastic, and it suited his face in a strange way that felt more natural than neutrality. Had your failed shot made him happy? "Sportsmanship? I don't really care about labels like that."
"Do you take revenge on every fan who annoys you? You seem sensitive," you mocked.
Your words seemed to hit a nerve but he pretended otherwise, crossing his arms over his chest. "What's your name?"
You'd wanted to tease him a little more, but you told him your name. He moved his lips slightly pronouncing it, then said: "Since you have a long tongue, I suggest we give you another chance — how about a challenge between us? Three goals. If you win, I'll give you three signed jerseys. If you lose, you'll come to all this week's training sessions and collect the balls for me."
You couldn't stop your laugh from escaping "And what do I want with signed jerseys? I'd rather not participate."
He smiled at that. "You don't want to know how much those signed jerseys could make you if you sold them."
That hit home. Damn — you really did want to make some money to buy the things you liked… and he was genuinely very famous as you remembered. What was the harm in participating? His shot was as bad as yours… there might actually be a chance you could win.
When he noticed you getting lost in your thoughts, he interrupted. "So — yes or no?"
"Fine."
---
The coach agreed to the challenge and was even pleased by it. Everyone thought this challenge would give them a nice break for a light activity. Word had even reached the crowd — including your father, who was completely shocked to find you inside the pitch.
"Alright, three goal each."
True, your playing was terrible, but you had at least some basics from years of watching — like the fact that you needed to decide the direction of your shot before kicking, and not stare at the goal too long so the goalkeeper wouldn't anticipate where it was going.
You took a breath, hands on your hips. Even though you weren't wearing anything athletic today, you suddenly felt confident.
You ran, intending to shoot right, and —
Boom.
Goal!
You ran happily and jumped celebrating in front of the crowd and your father, who applauded you with genuine admiration — and right in front of Lamine specifically. You'd wanted to annoy him, but even while doing so, you couldn't believe you'd actually scored!
---
Lamine stood there hands on his hips with irritation, watching you celebrate in front of him. What an annoying girl. His turn came after your little festival was over and he placed the ball in front of the goal. He shoots and —
The goalkeeper saves it!
What a shock. The small crowd was already buzzing from what was happening. You were jumping with joy at the unbelievable turn of events, while Lamine spat on the ground in frustration.
"Don't celebrate too early."
He came beside you and gave you a condescending look. "You don't know who I am."
"Oh, I think there's no need for me to know."
A vein in his head snapped. Damn, this girl was completely insufferable!
"We'll see."
Now it was your turn to shoot. You noticed the crowd's noise — they seemed completely excited for you now. Unlike the first time, they hadn't expected anything from you. You felt anxiety prickling your heart and a drop of sweat fall from your forehead. Why had this suddenly become serious?
Focus. Just do what you did before — pick your target and kick.
And —
The goalkeeper saves it!
Disappointment slid from the top of your head down to the soles of your feet. You covered your face and sighed. "Damn." You didn't want to look at his face, but you did without control and saw him smiling a provocative smile at you.
He took the ball the goalkeeper threw toward him and came beside you. He was sweating now, just like you, and you envied him his athletic clothes.
"So, ambitions have already dropped, have they?"
You huffed. "What are you talking about — mind your own business, or you'll miss this kick too."
"We'll see."
Lamine set up the ball, stood in position, and kicked.
Goal!
Lamine ran to the crowd with a wide smile showing his braces, doing his signature 304 celebration.
"It's just a challenge, why is he so proud," you muttered, biting your lip. You were tied now. The last attempt would decide the winner.
"Do you regret it?"
"Regret what."
"What you said in the stands."
It was starting to seem like he genuinely wanted you to apologize for what you'd said, but now that things had gone this far, you were never going to give him the satisfaction.
"No."
He studied you for a moment then said: "You're stubborn, aren't you?"
"And you're arrogant."
"I'm not — on the contrary, I proved your words wrong from the very first time, but you still haven't changed your opinion."
"Whatever."
He smiled at that — it seemed he'd gotten under your skin, and that pleased him.
---
The third and final attempt. You stood at the goal, more nervous than ever before — and this was truly the worst scenario to happen. When you went to shoot, in reckless fear, you kicked the ball wide, far outside the goal.
You exhaled a heavy sigh, covering your face with your hands in frustration. Damn, damn — the excitement had gotten to you when you accepted this challenge. You were waiting for a laugh or sarcastic remark to come your way when you heard footsteps behind you.
"Hey."
You said with irritation: "What — did you come to mock me?"
"You still haven't lost, you know," he said calmly.
"I'm going to lose. You'll definitely score this goal. Look — I was wrong, okay? You're a skilled player. It was a mistake for me to get into a challenge with you."
"I didn't expect you to admit it this early."
"Happy now?"
"No — you still haven't taken back what you said in the stands."
You bit your lip. "But I wasn't actually lying! It was an easy shot… at least from a spectator's point of view."
"Is that how you want to play this?"
"It's not like you'll cancel the challenge if I take it back anyway."
Your words seemed to make your final position clear to him, so he smiled, then went and got the ball and set it in place, and the goalkeeper took his position too.
"Watch."
And Lamine ran and scored in front of you the easiest goal you'd ever seen in your life.
Damn.
He'd completely destroyed you.
Lamine jumped in front of the crowd as he celebrated and said loudly: "Everyone here is a witness to the result of this challenge, aren't they?"
The crowd responded enthusiastically with yes. Damn — you'd genuinely been the entertainment for these people today.
While Lamine was celebrating with his teammates, you headed to the edge of the pitch intending to go back up to your previous seat in the stands, before a hand on your arm stopped you.
"Hold on — drink some water."
You looked at that annoying curly hair, those thick eyebrows, and those gleaming eyes. That had completely ruined your day. Completely. You took the water from his hand in anger and started drinking it.
"Easy."
You swallowed the water hard and breathed. "I am never taking back what I said — it doesn't matter that I lost, or that I'll be running after you collecting balls. Dream on if you think I'll take it back, Lamine Yamal."
Lamine laughed and grabbed your shoulders in a sudden move. "Even though you're annoying — I'm starting to like you."
Red flooded your cheeks but you quickly pushed his hands away and said: "And you're annoying! So incredibly annoying, damn." You ran back to your spot and heard Lamine say behind you with laughter:
synopsis: kimi always likes to be near you, or even better, touching you, even when he's in the garage - much to the delight of the engineers and other drivers who love to tease him.
note: thought i would try out a new kind of extended headcanon thing for this since i have so many ideas for it, lmk if you like it <3 (im definitely willing to expand any of these into proper fics too!)
kimi masterlist — join my taglist — make a request
IN THE GARAGE —
You were always the first person Kimi looked for during training, much to the exasperation of his trainer.
"Kimi? Where are you going?" The trainer looked dumbfounded, "We're only taking a break for five minutes?" Kimi waved his hand, not even turning around to look at him, "Yeah, yeah, I'm going to find Y/n." Seconds later, the door slammed signalling Kimi really had gone, leaving some of his colleagues to exchange confused looks. "He's obsessed with that girl." The trainer sighs, explaining to everyone else in the room, shaking his head softly. "Ahh, young love. Leave them to it." One of the assistants smiled, reminiscing on her own teenage years. Kimi's trainer grumbled, "Whatever. He better be back in five."
Kimi weaved through the halls of the facility with ease, after all it was essentially his second home. He knew exactly where to find you - nestled on a couch in the breakroom between other colleagues (some engineers, some drivers and other folk necessary for the smooth running of Formula 1), probably looking at some dumb video. Kimi loved how well integrated you were into his busy lifestyle, and how practically all of his team loved you more than him. Just as he predicted, he spotted you upon entering the room, sitting between two of his good friends. "Hey baby," He grinned, coming over immediately to envelop you in a hug. "Hey," You smile into his shoulder, "Back so soon?"
"Just on a break, amore," He pulled away from the hug gently, "Could you guys make some space for me?" He looked at the others on the couch, who were sitting directly next to you. "Huh?" One of the engineers raised an eyebrow, "The couch is basically empty?" He looked puzzled and gestured to the countless empty seats surrounding you and your little group. "No," Kimi furrows his brow, "I meant next to Y/n." At this, you giggle and the engineer sighs, "Fine." He shuffles to the left slightly, leaving a Kimi sized space for him to slide into. "That's better," he rests his head on your shoulder, wrapping his arms around your waist. "Wow, did you really miss me for the two seconds you weren't near me?" You chuckle at his neediness. "Yes. I don't have time to waste," Kimi deadpanned, lifting his head to look you in the eye, pulling a very serious face. "You're silly," you plant a little kiss on his forehead and turn back to the nonsense you had open on your phone.
"Kimi. I said five minutes." Came the voice. Neither you nor him had even noticed the door had opened and someone else had entered. "Hmm?" Kimi looked up from your phone, realising who it was. "Oh. Yes, I'm sorry, I'll be right there." He smiles at the trainer, but doesn't make any moves to get up. "Go on," You whisper to him, "You're at work Kimi, we can hang out afterwards for as long as you like." Kimi sighs, unhooking his arms from around you and standing up begrudgingly. "Training's not over yet." The trainer holds the door open for Kimi, ushering him out first, before firmly shutting the door behind them. "You're lucky he's a driver, because if he was a surgeon, he would've already found a way to attach himself to you!" An engineer piped up the second they had left, causing laughter to erupt in the room.
Kimi was never afraid of showing some pda, he wanted everyone to know you were his girlfriend.
"Mate, you actually need to get off her." George groaned, "We don't want to see this." Kimi was in the middle of peppering your face with kisses - he had just finished a race in pole position and ran to where you were before commencing the proper celebrations. "Shut up, she's my lucky charm," He rolled his eyes, and finished by giving you a longer kiss on the lips. "We get it, she's your girlfriend." George teased, smiling, before turning to his family and friends who had just come down. "We get it, she's your girlfriend" Kimi put on a faux British accent, one of the worst you think you'd ever heard, you try to hold in your laugh but fail miserably. "If he had a girlfriend as beautiful and lucky as you, he would understand me." Now it was your turn to roll your eyes, "You didn't win because I'm lucky, you won because you trained hard." Kimi shushed you, "You're still lucky." He placed another kiss on your head, ignoring the distant "ew" from someone else in the garage.
The second something went wrong, or if he had a bad day, you would always be the first thing Kimi needed to feel better.
"Kimi, don't be so hard on yourself. It happens sometimes," George was sitting beside Kimi on a bench in the garage after a poor result on the track - arguably the poorest. "I DNF'd George," He had his head in his hands, occasionally rubbing his eyes in exhaustion. "You aren't the first to do it and you certainly won't be the last." George patted his shoulder, trying to provide the most comfort he could. "That's not the point. I disappointed the team. How can we come out on top if I keep messing up?" Kimi faced George, pure hurt visible in his eyes. "You won't."
"I need to find Y/n." His voice was muffled, having assumed his original position, hiding away from the world. As if knowing he needed you, you came into the garage, somewhat dishevelled from what George had assumed was a scramble to get here. "Kimi??" You rushed over to him, sitting on his other side, placing your hand on his back. Without saying a word, he pulled you into an almost suffocating hug, burying his face into your neck and sighing deeply. "The race was not good." He mustered up the courage to say after a few seconds of recharging in your arms. "I know, they can't all be." You rubbed your hand up and down his back soothingly, "You're still brilliant at what you do. This doesn't change what people think of you." Kimi only hummed in response - his eyes were shut, he was simply just basking in your presence. "Thank you," he eventually pulled away, smiling at you, "I think that hug fixed me."
"See, who needs doctors?" You jab him in the arm playfully.
AT HOME —
Kimi always made it impossible for you to get up in the morning.
"Five minutes pleaseeee," Kimi tightened his grip on your waist, willing you to lie back down. It was seven in the morning, usually a very early start but for you, it was just the time you got up before work to make sure you were ready on time. "Kimi, please," you sigh, squinting a little in the dim lighting to look at him. His eyes were still shut, as if he was conserving energy, and his hair was tousled, sticking up in all directions. You found him irresistible in this state, he looked so sleepy and warm and cute, it was very difficult to deny him. "It's only five minutes," he huffed, voice still gravelly from having woken up to your alarm, "This many," He sleepily held up his hand to show five. "I know how many five is silly," you laugh softly, lying back down on your side so he could spoon you. "I knew I could convince you," he pulled you closer so your back was flush with him. "Only five minutes though, okay?" You stretch a little to look at his face. "Sure." He cracked one eye open, a cheeky smile forming on his face. "I'm serious. I have a big girl job I need to get to." You try to say as flatly as possible, until a smile sneaks onto your lips. "Your favourite job is being my girlfriend." He deadpans.
"Yeah yeah, you don't even pay me," You roll your eyes playfully. "Whatever, can sort that in the morning." He was falling back asleep, mumbling into your hair. You decided to let him win this one, he wanted it so badly he was almost willing to argue that you stayed in his sleep.
Kimi always wanted you to wear his clothes, so at least some part of him could always be with you.
You were standing in front of your closet, eyes heavy from having just woken up, with a thousand outfit options to work through. "What do I even wear?" You sigh to yourself, moving a few hangers around. Kimi, who was in bed, stirred at your remark and opened his eyes, "Check my closet." You half smiled at this, "That doesn't really narrow down the options though, hmm."
"Take my blue jumper," He rubbed his eyes and yawned, "You know the one."
"I have plenty of my own clothes, Kimi." You giggle, "Go back to sleep."
"No. I have solutions-" He began sitting up in bed to look at you fully, "Either I listen to you complain you can't choose clothes for another half an hour, or you just take the jumper." He paused before adding, "Which will keep you warm and smells like me."
"Hmmm, this is a convincing argument indeed," you scratch your chin jokingly, knowing you were typically freezing, "But I think I have decided."
"I decided before you." Kimi slipped out of bed and opened his closet door, grabbing the jumper and pulling it over your head in one swift movement. "Wha-" you barely had any time to process what was happening. "See? Warm, cosy, smells like me. What more could you need?"
"It is pretty cute," you smooth down your hair, looking in the mirror.
"You're pretty cute." He sticks his tongue out at you, "Even more so in my jumper."
Lando’s jealousy isn’t cold or angry, it’s built on his own insecurity. When you're with another guy he can't help but only think of how it compares to himself. The first stage of his feelings is sadness. He’ll wallow alone and act like a little boy who just got told he needs to share his toy cars. The second stage would be revenge, this is where he starts thinking more in the headspace that you’ve wronged him. Even if you hadn’t. He might go to more parties without you and flirt with other girls but he wouldn’t do anything drastic. His behavior would be just enough to make you jealous too but never to the extent that you might leave him.
Max Verstappen - P2, (5/10)
Max is a very sure person. He knows where he stands in your life and he knows no other man could affect that. His jealousy is more just protectiveness. He’s not scared you’ll cheat or leave, he’s more scared something bad will happen to you. If a guy is standing or breathing too close to you, they’ll receive a glare in an instant. If someone is visibly making you uncomfortable he might have a few words. He knows the difference between when a guy is flirting with you or just being polite. He might be a bit peeved at a guy from trying to get in your life but he only acts when you need it.
Kimi Antonelli - P3, (8/10)
Kimi’s jealousy is unserious at best but it’s very frequent. He knows you wouldn't cheat but he’s still annoyed when guys think you’d give them a chance. He just thinks they're weird for flirting with someone who is clearly taken. When one of these over-eager men tries to get into a conversation with you, Kimi will waltz over and put his hands all over you. He wouldn’t stop until the guy got the message. Once you two get back to your shared living space he’ll groan and turn into more of a clingy pet than boyfriend, demanding your attention and touch. But don’t underestimate him and his childish posture, if something makes you seriously uncomfortable Kimi would not be scared to throw hands.
lamineyamal 6am bali, las dos personas más lindas @yourusername81
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User12: finally a sneak peek at bro's personal life Y/N is winning frfr
User54: Keyne's chillin
User49: I'm literally so jealous!!!
yourusername81: Lamineeeee
—user43: bros kinda hooked😮💨
Lamine emerged from the waves like a gleaming sea god-water dripping off his curly hair, muscles glistening under the Bali sun. He shook his head dramatically, sending droplets flying everywhere.
"Ooh! Cold!" he laughed in that bright, carefree way of his-arms spread wide as if embracing the entire ocean. His eyes were locked on you—sunbathing peacefully with your shades on and that cute little smile playing on your lips.
Without hesitation, he jogged over soaked through... then dropped down right beside you and kissed your cheek. Salty water included. The sound of your hum—soft, content, like a lazy melody. He loved that you were so calm under his affection.
His little brother squealed again from across the sand, clapping tiny hands and pointing. "Again! Lamiiii again!"
He leaned down over you now, propping himself on one elbow while water still dripped from his curls onto your sun-warmed back. Without asking again, he pressed another kiss—this time to your bare shoulder and whispered playfully:
"You're getting really tan.”
You only snort and ask playfully "toasted just right or burnt?"
Lamine's cheeks flushed-just a little-as you took off your shades, those eyes locking onto him with that warm, amused gaze. He bit his lip for half a second—nervous? Flustered? No one ever saw Lamine Yamal flustered. Except maybe you.
"Burnt," he teased back instantly, voice dropping into that playful-flirty tone. "Like my heart after you kissed me last night."
One of the friends nearby gagged dramatically. "Ugh, not this again!"
The toddler brother just laughed harder at the word grump attitude, clapping like it was the funniest thing ever said in human history.
Lamine ignored them all—too busy memorizing how beautiful you looked right now: sun-kissed skin, messy hair from lying on the towel...perfect.
"You're getting good at being corny" you smirked lazily.
Lamine pouted—full-on, exaggerated puppy eyes-and flopped dramatically onto his back beside you, sending a little puff of sand up.
"Corny? Me? Never," he said, handing over heart like he was offended. "I'm romantic. There's a difference."
One of their friends snorted from the shade: "Bro says 'cornball' every day and thinks it's poetry."
The toddler brother mimicked him then-tiny arms spread wide-and yelled: "Cornballll"
Lamine sat bolt upright at that, pointing accusingly. "You! You're supposed to be on my side!"
But when you laughed again-low and rich in that way Lamine loved, the football star melted all over again. He rolled sideways... and kissed you right on the lips. Quick but sweet. Not caring if he smudged your lipstick.
Keyne waddled through the sand like a tiny, determined explorer—bare feet kicking up little clouds.
"Beach! Ball!" he chanted over and over in his baby voice, arms flailing as he tried to grab the ball mid-air during their game.
The friends were used to him now-this sweet chaos gremlin who showed up everywhere. One of them gently tossed him an underhand pass... which Keyne immediately dropped on his face with a giggle.
Lamine burst out laughing from where he was sitting beside you. "Oh my god," he wheezed. "He's such a pro" he glazed out loud.
A soft breeze rolled in, waves crashed gently; someone blasted music from a speaker nearby... perfect Bali vibes.
Dinner was set up under string lights near the beach-wooden tables, soft music, and the smell of grilled fish and shrimp pasta in the air.
Lamine's friends had taken full responsibility for Keyne. They were now a team-passing him snacks between bites of their own food, one even played peek-a-boo to keep him entertained. Keyne wasn't fussy at all, happy as can be with all this attention.
At their table by the ocean's edge... Lamine finally got to focus on you. He poured you some wine without asking, then leaned back with that easy smile—the one you adore. The world champion footballer looked completely relaxed: barefoot in flip-flops, hair still slightly damp from earlier showers after swimming.
The food was perfect-fresh fish seasoned with lime and chili, rice that melted in your mouth, grilled veggies dripping with garlic butter.
But Lamine wasn't really tasting it. Not fully. Because every time he lifted his gaze from his plate? He'd catch you-the way the soft golden light caught your profile, how you held your fork... even the tiny smile forming after a bite of mango salsa. He swears he's not glazing you, mentally. He didn't say anything. Just looked. Admired quietly like this moment was something sacred-his girlfriend glowing under Bali stars while waves hummed behind them.
One of their friends glanced over and smirked.
"You're staring." Lamine blinked... then shrugged shamelessly without denying it.
Lamine watched with quiet delight as you finished the last bite of your fish-chewing slowly, savoring it like it was a five-star meal which, honestly, in Bali? It kind of was.
He reached over without thinking and gently wiped a tiny smudge of sauce from the corner of your mouth with his thumb-then brought that same thumb to his lips and licked it clean like nothing weird about that.
His friends would've lost their minds if they saw him doing something this soft in public. But right now? He didn't care who saw.
The second the hotel room door clicked shut, Lamine spun-fast-and pulled you into a kiss that had been building all night. His hands found your face instantly, thumbs brushing over your cheeks as he tilted his head to deepen it. The salty ocean scent still clung to both of you...
Lamine walked you backward gently until your knees hit the edge of the bed and then he broke away just long enough to whisper against your mouth, your lipstick stains on the corner of his mouth:
"Missed you.”
Even though they'd been together all day... even though they practically glued together during the world cup season... This? This was different.
"You talk like we didn't just fuck last monday"
Lamine let out a breathy laugh against your lips—half embarrassed, half turned on by how blunt you were. He pulled back just enough to raise an eyebrow, feigning offense. "Okay... rude" he teased, voice low and playful. "But true."
Last Monday? Yeah. Wild night back in Spain after celebration before the flight to Bali—hot sheets, tangled limbs under city lights filtering through the curtains... And yet here they were again—the tension between them flaring up like it hadn't been sated at all.
Instead of answering with words this time? Lamine kissed you again-deeper now-and his hands slid down from your face to grip your shoulders firmly before gently pushing you backward onto the bed.
The hotel room was stunning. Floor-to-ceiling windows stretched across the entire wall—crystal clear glass offering an uninterrupted view of the moonlit beach and ocean beyond.
The waves glowed softly under moonlight, gentle and rhythmic, like a slow lullaby. Lamine paused for just a second as he unzipped your dress... his eyes flicking toward that panoramic view. And then—a thought sparked. A very sexy idea.
Lamine took his time-like a chef savoring each course. His fingers brushing against warm skin beneath. He wasn't rushing. This was gourmet—every inch revealed like an unveiling. The soft glow from the soft dim light lit up your torso—the defined curves, the smooth, milky skin with fresh breeze like perfume and Lamine drank it all.
The soft click of the bra unclasping echoed quietly in the moonlit room. Lamine didn’t rush—he worshipped. His lips trailed down with care, mouthing at every inch like he was discovering something sacred. When his mouth finally closed over that plump chest? A low hum vibrated from him—pleasure, appreciation… pure want. He kissed and licked slowly at first—teasingly light—then deeper when you shifted beneath him, breathing hitching just slightly—being tasted like fine wine under Bali’s night sky.
Lamine’s lips drifted lower—kissing down the soft plane of your stomach, slow and deliberate. He paused there for a second… inhaling. The scent of sea salt clung to your skin—mixed with coconut from the sunscreen earlier, something warm and earthy that was so uniquely you. It turned him on more than he expected. Not just lust—something deeper. Like he could memorize this smell forever.
His hands slid up your thighs now—warm palms pressing gently against smooth skin, thumbs making small circles as they moved lower…
Lamine’s fingertips circled slowly—just above the fabric, not pressing yet, just feeling. The heat there. The dampness is already seeping through. His breath hitched. He loved this—the quiet proof that you wanted him too. That even after all day of sun and food and casual touches… your body was responding to him like this.
With a smirk playing on his lips—one he didn’t bother hiding—he leaned down and kissed your hipbone first… then higher up your stomach… while his fingers kept teasing that same spot through the fabric: light circles, barely-there pressure… Testing how much longer he could make you wait before giving in completely.
The soft whine slipped from your lips—high, needy—and Lamine felt it vibrate through him. His chest tightened. That sound? Pure music.
Without removing the panties completely, because he loved this slow torture, Lamine slipped his fingers underneath the fabric—finally making direct contact with warm, wet skin.
A quiet gasp escaped you as his fingertip brushed over sensitive flesh… and then he just stayed there for a second—frozen, feeling how ready you were for him. No pressure yet. Just exploration… teasing pressure that made your thighs tremble on either side of him.
Lamine knew exactly what he was doing—His two fingers slid up and down slowly at first—teasingly gentle, just the right amount of pressure—to feel you pulse under his touch. Then, with growing confidence, he pressed jn… curling them slightly as they moved deeper. At the same time? His thumb found your clit—and began to rub in soft circles. Not fast. Not rough. Just steady… rhythmic… like waves lapping against shore outside their glass-walled sanctuary.
Every breath you took sounded louder now—the room quiet except for skin on skin and that maddeningly perfect friction Lamine was creating with his hands alone.
Lamine was completely lost in the moment—fingering you with that slow, deliberate rhythm while his own body betrayed him. His hips twitched against the sheets without thinking—seeking friction, needing something to ease the growing ache low in his stomach. The fabric of his boxers rubbed roughly over sensitive skin… and it only made him harder.
He didn’t stop though—not even close. If anything, your soft sounds and trembling thighs fueled him more. Every little whimper from you sent a jolt straight through him.
And despite how turned on he was? He stayed focused—thumb still circling your clit perfectly, fingers moving inside you just right… even as his own body screamed for attention too.
Lamine’s gaze slid to the floor-to-ceiling glass wall—the ocean stretching endlessly beyond, waves glowing under moonlight like liquid silver.And then… that smirk curled at the corner of his lips. Mischievous. Playful. A little dangerous. Without warning—still gently working you with his fingers—he leaned down and kissed your neck once… twice… then slowly, deliberately, started trailing kisses upward toward your jawline…He didn’t care if they saw—or maybe that was exactly what he wanted.
Lamine broke the kiss just long enough to grab a condom from the nightstand—teeth catching the foil packet with practiced ease. The sound was sharp in the quiet room. He didn’t bother being smooth about it—just raw, impatient need. The wrapper fell away as he shoved his boxers down.
Then—without missing a beat—he lifted you effortlessly and pressed you gently but firmly against the cool glass wall… their bodies now framed perfectly by moonlight and ocean views beyond. His heartbeat pounded loud in his ears.
The sight of your hair—soft, tousled from the day, now spilling over one shoulder like liquid silk—was everything. It framed your profile perfectly against the glass: warm skin glowing in moonlight, delicate collarbone exposed as you turned slightly to look back at Lamine.
And then came that slow drag—the teasing grind of his tip along you. Not entering yet. Just… rubbing there. Testing heat and friction through thin fabric still clinging between them.
Lamine exhaled sharply through his nose—eyes dark with want—as he watched every micro-expression on your face: parted lips… fluttering lashes… a quiet breath held too long…He loved this part almost as much as what came next.
The moment Lamine pushed in—finally, fully—you arched your back slightly, a breathy gasp escaping them. He felt every tight heat around him. Every pulse. The sensation was insane—like nothing else existed but this: the warmth of your body wrapped around his, the cool glass you’re bracing your hands at contrasting with their feverish skin.
Lamine didn’t rush. He started slow—steady hip thrusts that built rhythm rather than force… deep and controlled, each movement calculated to make you feel everything. His hands gripped your hips gently as he moved behind you—the ocean outside reflecting moonlight across both of their bodies through the clear glass wall… turning them into a private show only for each other.
The soft moan slipped out—unfiltered, sweet—before you could catch it and press your lips together to stifle the sound.
It drove him wild. So he picked up the pace—still steady but now with more force behind each thrust, his hips meeting yours from behind in a rhythmic clap against your backside. Every movement pushed you gently forward into the glass… only for him to pull you back by your waist so he could drive deeper again. The cool surface cooled your heated skin while Lamine’s body burned behind you.
Lamine saw it—the slight tremble in your thighs, the way your lips pressed together hard to stifle any sound, those eyes glistening just a little like you were overwhelmed by sensation. It hit him right in the chest. You weren’t just taking it—you were feeling every inch of him with such intensity… and that made his own body respond even more strongly.
The sudden spank—Lamine’s palm landing with a sharp, playful smack on your backside—sent a shockwave through both of you. You clenched around him instantly—tight, involuntary, like your body was reacting purely to sensation. And oh, did it feel good. A low groan tore from Lamine’s throat. That squeeze? Unreal. Like velvet heat gripping every nerve ending at once.
His hips stuttered for half a second before he regained control—but now there was fire in his eyes again… that mix of affection and growing hunger returning full force.
Without missing another beat, he delivered another light spank—this time followed immediately by two deep thrusts in quick succession… watching how your body responded each time like it was the best thing ever invented.
The hitch in your moan—ragged, breathless—sent a thrill through Lamine.
It wasn’t just pleasure. It was a risk. The knowledge that anyone could walk outside… someone strolling along the shoreline under moonlight might glance up and see them pressed against the glass wall—their silhouettes tangled, moving together in slow, intimate rhythm. No one would recognize you from here. Not clearly. But they’d see. And that thrill? That delicious edge of being seen without being caught? Lamine felt it too—the adrenaline mixing with desire—and he kissed your shoulder suddenly: soft lips on warm skin… possessive but tender at once.
Lamine’s voice dropped—low, rough, and full of heat—as he watched you unravel with every movement.
"You feel so good," he breathed out, lips brushing skin between words. "Like you were made for this… made for me." His hips kept that steady rhythm—deep thrusts now mixed with teasing pauses where he’d pull almost all the way out before sinking back in slowly. And then came a whisper: "You’re so tight…fuck—" A shiver ran through him just saying it. He loved how responsive you were—the hitches in your breath when he hit just right…
Lamine’s hands were everywhere—anchoring, worshipping. One gripped your hip firmly, pulling you back against each of his thrusts so every movement became deeper, more connected. The other slid up from your waist to cup the lower curve of your chest—kneading gently with his palm and fingers in a way that was equal parts tender and possessive. He wasn’t rough… but there was intensity in every touch—the kind that said “I want all of you”, not just physically but emotionally too. His breath came faster now as he watched the rise and fall of your body under moonlight—the glisten on skin from exertion, how perfectly responsive you were to him…
And without thinking? He leaned down again… pressing soft kisses along your nape.
Your breath hit the cool glass—tiny clouds forming with each gasp as Lamine’s touch and movements overwhelmed you. The contrast was electric: warm skin, hot bodies… against the chilled surface pressing into your chest and palms. Every exhale fogged up a small patch of glass before fading again.
Lamine noticed it—the soft puffs of air, how your body trembled not from cold but from pure feeling. It made his heart clench in that sweet way only you could make him feel.
Lamine felt it—the moment you tipped over. Your body tensed, breath catching sharply before that quiet, beautiful gasp escaped—unfiltered and raw. Pleasure crashed through you first, waves of sensation rolling in fast. And Lamine? He smirked—a soft, proud chuckle escaping his lips. Not smug… just so happy to see you fall apart because of him. He didn’t stop moving right away—kept rocking gently through the aftershocks for a few seconds—letting your body ride it out while his hands stayed warm on your skin: one at your hip still holding you close; the other stroking lightly up your lower chest now like a comforting caress.
Lamine’s rhythm turned less controlled—more instinctive. The pleasure from watching you come undone had sent him spiraling too. His breath came faster now, hips rolling with a needier urgency, chasing his own release.
Every thrust was deeper, more desperate—less about precision and more about feeling everything. The heat between your bodies grew, the slick friction made every movement electric. His jaw clenched slightly as the pressure built low in his stomach… that tight coil winding tighter with each motion.
The sound of your moan—raw, shameless, tinged with oversensitivity—hit Lamine like lightning. It wasn’t just a noise. It was music—a beautiful mess of pleasure and sensation that shattered the last thread of his control. His hips stuttered instantly—the smooth rhythm breaking into uneven jerks as the pressure inside him peaked. A sharp breath escaped through gritted teeth, his fingers dug bruisingly into your skin without meaning to. Then it came—a wave crashing down on him—and he came undone completely: body tensing, pulse roaring in his ears… every nerve alight under Bali’s quiet night sky while you were still pressed against him. His cock twitches deep inside of you as he spills, chest rising up and down rapidly.
The room went quiet except for their breathing—the waves outside continuing their endless rhythm like nothing had changed... even though everything had just shifted between them. He didn't pull out immediately. Just stay there-forehead resting gently on your shoulder—for a few long seconds while his heart pounded and reality slowly crept back in...
He kissed down your back-soft, lingering pecks along your spine and over the warm skin where sweat had begun to glisten. Each kiss was small. Gentle. Almost innocent in how tender they were after what just happened.
And oh—how you loved this. More than anything right now: the quiet affection, the way he showed care through touch instead of words... these little kisses that felt like a secret language only they understood.
You didn't say anything—just melted into them, shoulders relaxing completely for the first time since everything started. Your breathing slowed...
The moment their bodies touched the mattress again—you curling right into his side—the exhaustion from pleasure hit them both at once. The adrenaline faded, muscles went loose. Then Lamine sprawled out like a starfish—limbs loose, chest rising and falling steadily as he caught his breath. Letting you crush him with your weight all you want.
A lazy smile curled on his lips before he turned his head toward you. His voice came out soft, slightly hoarse from everything—the Spanish rolling off in that sweet, affectionate tone only he used when completely relaxed.
"Eres tan jodidamente sexy..." just stating something beautiful about you that made him feel dizzy with love and lingering pleasure.
"You remind me that everyday, pulpo" you chuckled softly. Lamine laughed—a quiet, warm sound and reached over to pinch your cheek playfully, doesn’t care if he ruined your makeup.
"Pulpo..." he repeated with a grin, loving that silly nickname. It had started weeks ago when Lamine admitted that octopus was his favorite. And right now? The smirk on your face made Lamine feel stupidly adored.
Morning light filtered softly through the glass walls, painting golden streaks across the room. Lamine stirred—groggy and heavy-eyed as a tiny weight pressed onto his back. He blinked slowly... then realized Keyne was sitting right on him, little hands tugging at his messy curls.
"Lamine... wake up! Wakeup!" Keyne chanted-excited and loud like only a three-year-old could be. Lamine grumbled sleepily into the pillow but didn't push him off. Instead, he nuzzled deeper for half a second before attempting to roll over and immediately squished Keyne with an accidental hug that made them both giggle.
You sat quietly beside them against the headboard, phone raised. A quiet smile played on your lips as you snapped photos of this sweet chaos: Lamine half-asleep being attacked by baby brother energy while sunlight spilled over them all...
Lamine turned his head, still half-buried in the pillow, and gave you a sleepy smirk.
"Buenos días, preciosa..." he mumbled-voice thick with morning warmth. The nickname slipped out naturally: a term of endearment only for you.
His curls were a wild mess from Keyne's playing and there was probably drool on his cheek too but Lamine didn't care. He reached one arm out lazily toward your thigh while keeping Keyne tucked against him with the other. Keyne giggled again and started poking Lamine's nose like it was a game now.
The little group walked into a cozy beachside restaurant, where the scent of grilled fish and spicy sambal hung in the air. You carried Keyne effortlessly—one arm supporting his tiny body while the other held Lamine's hand.
The three-year-old wasn't heavy at all, and you treated him like your own family—no hesitation. He’s adorable and it’s hard to resist spoiling him with attention. You smiled down at every giggle or random comment Keyne made in broken Spanish. Lamine watched you both from across their table as they were seated... heart swelling quietly.
This is exactly what he wanted after the world cup. Cool beach, quality time with you and little Keyne. He’s too easy to please.
࿔. 𝑤𝑎𝑟𝑛𝑖𝑛𝑔 : blowjob, relacionamento estabelecido, um pouco de hiperestimulação (quase nada), yamal namoradinho sedento, yamal big!dick, reader putinha (de lei), spit kink e acho que só.
࿔. 𝑛𝑜𝑡𝑒𝑠 : não me perguntem nada sobre isso, pois eu apenas pensei com a xota. apenas leiam. (escrevi isso em literalmente 30 min por conta disso aqui
— Isso, amor… — a voz rouquinha de Yamal sussurra, em êxtase. Sua boquinha sobe e desce pela extensão veiúda do loirinho esparramado na poltrona à sua frente.
Não era nem para estarem ali, muito menos com você com a boquinha cheia da pica dele até o talo, mas Lamine não resistiu em comemorar a vitória contra a Argentina somada ao novo título apenas da forma convencional. Foi o tempo de ele bater o olho em você, toda lindinha, com uma saia minúscula e a camiseta da seleção espanhola com o nome dele estampado nas costas, para que o pau endurecesse como nunca.
Não deu outra, a arrastou para o próprio projeto de camarim que tinham arquitetado para toda a seleção antes da grande festa que rolaria, e a fez cair de boca. Ah, que namorada ruim seria você se negasse uma mamadinha para o seu campeão, hm? Ele estava merecendo, poxa. No momento em que se viram sozinhos, fez questão de o sentar, não antes de abaixar o short soltinho junto da cueca de marca e se ajoelhar entre as pernas dele, deixando a rola grossa bem à frente de seu rostinho.
Abocanhou com gula, cheia de fome. Começou devagarinho, abrigando cada centímetro ao passo que a língua rodeava a extensão. Sua mãozinha de unhas bem feitas se encarrega de masturbar o restante da extensão que não cabia na sua boca, mesmo que já estivesse muito dentro da cavidade quentinha. Porra, ele era tão grande, grosso… Dava um trabalho tão gostoso para sua gargantinha de puta.
Geme manhosinha junto a ele contra o comprimento, os olhinhos aguados mirando o rosto de cenho franzido, que vez ou outra era jogado contra o encosto do estofado rubro, deixando o pomo de adão marcado à vista para você, dando mais gás para sua mentezinha burra de tesão.
— Bora, Yamal, ‘tão chamando a gente lá em cima, irmão… — a voz rouquinha de Nico Williams ecoa abafada atrás da porta, o baque surto de batidas sendo deixadas contra a madeira soando dentro do cômodo.
Você solta a extensão por um instante, porém mantém a mãozinha a punhetando. Aperta a cabecinha arroxeada entre o indicador e o anelar para em seguida despejar um filete de saliva sobre o topo, observando o abdômen trincado do namorado contrair ao você abrigar a cabecinha inchada da pica vigorosa.
— Responde, amor… — a voz manhosa, cheia de dengo, pede, provocando Yamal, esse que solta um riso baixo com a sua audácia. Não passava de uma putinha sem vergonha e safada para um caralho. Ele sempre ficava desacreditado no quanto sua mente podia ser perversa, superando até mesmo a dele. Eram insaciáveis juntos, por isso davam tão certo. “Anda…” Deixa um beijinho no topo. “Ou quer que ele saiba que você não aguentou e pediu 'pra sua namoradinha te mamar, hm?”
— Filha da puta! — ele exclama, baixo e rouco, o cacete grosso dando pequenas guinadas em sua palma. “Já vou!” Puxa o ar entre os dentes ao você engolir o comprimento de novo. “Sobe lá que eu ‘tô indo…” Finaliza, o tom recheado de volúpia, deixando evidente o que ocorria dentro da sala.
— Seu puto, ‘tá fudendo, né? — Nico solta entre risos. “Falô, boa foda aí.” Termina, mas não é como se estivessem prestando atenção em qualquer palavra dita pelo garoto do outro lado da porta, visto que sua gargantinha já tinha se encarregado de o engolir todinho novamente. A mão grande se prende nos seus fios, apenas os segurando para não atrapalhar seus movimentos lânguidos. Seus olhinhos pidões se voltam para ele; o olhar aguadinho beiraria a inocência, se não houvesse a contradição do seu sorrisinho de vagabunda plantado nos lábios vermelhos, recheados de pica.
— Caralho, princesa. — O escuta proferir entre dentes. Geme mais uma vez junto a ele, arrastadinho, observa o abdômen trincado contrair e sente o pau teso guinar em sua cavidade, fazendo-a fechar os olhinhos e rir manhosinha quando uma sequência de gemidos roucos escapam dos lábios volumosos de Lamine, prontamente sentindo toda a porra quentinha ser despejada em abundância em sua garganta no momento seguinte, a gala grumosa pintando cada cantinho onde estava alojado.
Você respira fundo ao soltar a extensão, o fiozinho de saliva mantendo a extensão conectada à sua boquinha. Sua bucetinha molha mais um pouquinho ao observar o namorado, a barra da camiseta de time entre os dentes, deixando o abdômen completamente trabalhado exposto para você. Estava tão concentrada na sua missão de o engolir que nem ao menos percebeu o momento de puro delírio do namorado para segurar os próprios gemidos. Ah, como queria apenas subir naquelas coxas imensas e sentar como a vadia desesperada que era, mas infelizmente sabia que não tinham tempo para isso.
— Anda, grandão… — estala mais um beijinho no topo meio purpureado antes de se levantar, apoiando as mãozinhas nos joelhos espaçados de Yamal. Inclina o tronco sobre o corpo esparramadinho e ainda ofegante do namorado, segurando o queixo dele entre o indicador e o anelar para então grudar os lábios num selinho demorado, manhosinho e completamente sujo, sussurrando rente à boquinha: “Sua festa acabou de começar, amor…”
. ۟ 🍥 ⃞░ curtiu? deixa um comentáriozinho, uma curtidinha ou um rblog. até a próxima história ⟡﹒🐺
