stop being inconvenient || pare de ser inconveniente
=======
the reason I share my favorites fics is because I believe this stories if you change the name of the characters they still are amazing, and it's not about the famous person portrayed on it
this writers deserve recognition and maybe one day one of them will have a chance of living as a professional writer
=======
p.o.v.
MY MASTERLIST
My favorites stories:
ACTORS MASTERLIST
MOTORSPORT MASTERLIST
NHL MASTERLIST
SINGERS MASTERLIST
SOCCER MASTERLIST
NFL MASTERLIST
Icon - Taylor’s daughter
max verstappen x sainz!sister!reader, ex!esteban ocon x sainz!sister!reader
fc: mika abdalla
cw: mentions of cheating, single mom, 18+ language, sassy reader, sassy drivers, internet gossip / drama. probable typos (i am dyslexic!! plz be patient with me)
regret’s note: max x sainz!reader request & inspired by the step up mini series by @sogoodtoheritsvicious.
this is a work of fiction & not an accurate description of any real person.
liked by ynsainz, carlossainz, maxverstappen1, and others…
lando friends who win together, party together, stay together.
carlossainz: carlando forever!!
maxverstappen1: gin and tonic for everyone!
| lando: maxverstappen1 max is paying the tab!!
ynsainz: let it be known that an hour before this they read half a dozen bedtime stories to a toddler. and sang two lullabies. and max only left because victoria is babysitting.
| maxverstappen1: ynsainz and i’d do it again!
| lando: ynsainz all i hear is you complaining that we love your kid? weird vibe
| danielricciardo: ynsainz take a video next time and i’ll post it on main. i’m very secure in my masculinity
| user: ynsainz what have you done to the drivers lmao
| user: ynsainz okay so carlos is your brother, lando is carlos’ hetero life mate and max is…?
| lando: user max is yn’s best friend?? are you new here?
f1gossip almost a year after his relationship with yn sainz ended due to his own infidelity, ocon has arrived this weekend debuting his new partner. if you ask me, she looks suspicious like the girl from austin 2021.
user: launching your affair partner as your significant other at your ex’s best friend’s home race is really brave of him… stupid, but brave
user: this man has no level he won’t stoop to
user: will we see the return of mad max?
user: who would willing date that cheating bastard?
user: fernando glaring in the background is everything to me
you stared at daniel’s phone, hands shaking. his eyes were glued to you, waiting for your reaction. he knew you would be at the race this weekend; you never missed zandvoort. this was intentional, you knew your ex boyfriend well enough to know just how much he enjoyed twisting the knife when he didn’t get his way.
and maybe you hadn’t processed the bomb that had been dropped on your relationship last year. maybe it had been easier to dedicate yourself to work and your daughter and fighting like hell to not let anyone know just how much it had hurt. not your brother. not even max.
now, daniel was witness to your hurt in real time. standing in the middle of mclaren hospitality, your daughter asleep wrapped in carlos’ hoodie, it hit you.
“i need to get out of here,” your whispered to daniel.
“okay,” he said calmly. “you remember where the back exit is?”
you nodded, gingerly picking up mariposa in an effort not to wake her.
“i’ll get lando and we’ll go out front and distract the press.”
“i owe you,” you told him.
the back of the paddock was empty, blessedly, and you quickly made your escape. past williams, past mercedes. past haas and even past ferrari. you didn’t stop until you reached redbull, where someone, probably alex, left the back exit door propped open.
you easily slipped inside, using the garage noise as cover.
“oh, thank god,” alex said when you appeared in the hall, ushering you into max’s drivers room.
your best friend was seething- pacing back and forth, clearly arguing with himself.
“maxie.”
“liefje,” max breathed, his anger taking a backseat at your appearance and the sight of sleeping mariposa in your arms. “are you okay?”
you shook your head, tears welling. “no.”
in an event that could have been coordinated, alex scooped your daughter from your arms and slipped out of the room, leaving you and max alone. you knew you could trust alex with her, and lily was never far away.
“he brought her here,” your voice cracked on the last word. “my favourite track. your home race. he brought her here.”
“come here.” max opened his arms and you fell into them. the tears that had been building since last year fell as you cried into his chest. the hurt, the ache. max held onto it all while he held you.
“i’m so sorry, schatje,” he whispered. “i’m sorry.”
f1 turn one chaos for alpine! the start saw alonso miscalculate his attempt to slip past teammate ocon, both drivers ending up in the barrier! radio reports say both drivers are okay.
user: ‘miscalculate’ lol
user: alonso? miscalculate? sure
user: fernando is always at the scene of the crime
“are you mad?” you asked max when he reentered the living room.
“why would i be mad, schatje?”
“clearly we - i - have confused mari and it’s put you in an awkward position,” you said anxiously.
“i put myself here. happily so.”
“you know what i mean.”
“not really,” he sighed. “you know i love her more than life itself, right? like, i’d do anything for her.”
“yeah, but she isn’t your kid, max,” you argued.
“isn’t she, though?” max asked. “her first word was ‘fuck’, liefje. that’s verstappen nonsense if i’ve ever heard it.”
you laughed without meaning to. he was right, and you were still embarrassed about the incident.
“i’ll try to clear it up with her. not sure how to explain it to a toddler but i’ll figure it out.”
“don’t.”
“don’t?”
“don’t. i like being her dad,” he admitted. “it’s kind of my favorite thing.”
“max…”
“i want to be her dad. i want tantrums and tea parties and bedtime and skinned knees. i want giggles and tears and i want to hear her call me ‘papa’ for the rest of my life.”
“and when you have kids of your own?” you asked.
“i think that would be less of a problem to this situation than you’re assuming,” he said, almost smug.
“what does that even mean?”
“it means that i’m in love with you.”
“funny,” you said dryly. “good one.”
“not joking. i’m stupidly in love with you. have been for… well pretty much forever.” max shrugged.
“you’re seriously?”
“deadly.”
you just stared at him from across the room, wondering how exactly you found yourself in this situation.
“this is the part where you tell me you love me, too,” he said after long moments of silent. “otherwise this is about to be really awkward.”
you scanned through the last 7 years of your life. all the moments with max. how he was always there. even when you were with esteban, when they hated each other, max was always in your corner. he was there the day mariposa was born, and had been there every day since. he was your emergency contact, he was your safe place.
“holy shit,” you said, as reality hit you in the face. “i think i’m in love with you.”
liked by maxverstappen1, carlossainz, danielricciardo, and others…
ynsainz happy papa’s day to the one who stepped up without either of us realizing it. maxie, mari and i love you so much. thank you for choosing us everyday. 🤍
maxverstappen1: i love you so much, schatje. thank you for letting me have this. you and our butterfly are the greatest thing to ever happen to me.
carlossainz: best dad out there
danielricciardo: my favorites!
| ynsainz: danielricciardo we love you, uncle danny!
lando: I KNEW IT
| ynsainz: lando you didn’t know shit
| lando: ynsainz i totally knew it
fernandoalonso_official: he will be good to you both, mija. or else.
| user: fernandoalonso_official nando threatening max’s life on main lmfao
user: not the versainz we wanted but clearly the versainz we needed
| user: user this is so much better tbh
user: imagine fumbling your girlfriend and your daughter to max verstappen.
max verstappen x sainz!sister!reader, ex!esteban ocon x sainz!sister!reader
fc: mika abdalla
cw: mentions of cheating, single mom, 18+ language, sassy reader, sassy drivers, internet gossip / drama. probable typos (i am dyslexic!! plz be patient with me)
regret’s note: based off an mv x sainz!reader request & inspired by the step up mini series by @sogoodtoheritsvicious.
this is a work of fiction & not an accurate description of any real person.
f1gossip things in the paddock are AWKWARD this weekend. after the reveal of ocon’s infidelity, it seems the entire grid, including his own teammate, aren’t speaking to him
f1gossip sources say yn sainz has filed for sole custody of her daughter, marisol ymn sainz-ocon. this comes just a week after ocon was caught with another woman.
user: i can’t blame her
user: he was never around anyway. she’s better off without him
f1gossip the ocon-sainz drama continues! under a post dedicated to max winning 2021 wdc, yn sainz told a fan that her daughter doesn’t have a father, just 6 weeks after ocon was caught cheating on his long time girlfriend. though the two never announced a breakup, both deleted all evidence of the other online and have not been seen together since september of 2021. last month, it was reported yn filed for sole custody of her daughter. is this a hint as to the outcome of that lawsuit?
user: i know he cheated, but i feel like depriving a child of their father might be a bit far…
| user: user nah, she’s better off
| user: user fr. and it’s not like she doesn’t have 19 other positive male figures in her life
user: she moved quickly and silently. i love her
user: a breakup so private yet so messy
| user: user how is it messy?
| user: user because she literally revoked his rights to paternity? that’s kinda messy
| user: user that’s called standing up for herself and protecting her child
user: is this f1gossip or ynsainz gossip?
| f1gossip: user girl i don’t even know anymore. this has been our only reprieve from the insane title fight
user: i wish she would actually say something publicly.
liked by ynsainz, maxverstappen1, charlesleclerc, and others…
carlossainz one year of mariposa running the show. mi sobrina, tio carlos loves you so much. thank you to everyone for coming to celebrate with us!
ynsainz: i can’t believe she’s a year old already. my baby
| carlossainz: ynsainz make it stop
maxverstappen1: happy birthday, butterfly!
lando: i’ve never seen a kid so spoiled
danielricciardo: happy birthday mari!
charlesleclerc: the birthday girl!!
fernandoalonso_official: just a few more years and i’ll have her in a kart
| ynsainz: fernandoalonso_official absolutely not
user: and still no esteban…
| carlossainz: user that french bastard has no claim or rights to my niece.
| user: carlossainz sassy sainz pop OFF!
user: why does max call her butterfly?
| user: user mariposa means butterfly in spanish
| user: user and why is max never ‘uncle max’…?
| user: user honestly that’s a great question.
user: sorry is that MAX in the crib with mari?!
| user: user OH MY GOD IT IS
| user: user she looks so little that yn and esteban were probably still together… kinda weird
| carlossainz: user not that it MATTERS, but i took that picture of max when the two of us babysat for MY SISTER. stop making random and underhanded accusations in comments.
may 2025 : the mclaren social media team manage to convince you and lando to do a hot lap video for the miami gp promotions. they also have a few things up their sleeves to make it even better.
lando norris x f!reader ୨୧ word count : 2.6k ୨୧ warnings : language ୨୧ note : this idea has been in my head for MONTHS so i'm glad the urge to write it finally hit me 🧡 if you enjoy don't forget to comment/reblog!
part of the lando's heart series.
you honestly don't know how you ended up here.
here specifically being on the actual miami track surrounded by a bunch of mclaren staff – some with big cameras and others with... other things. yeah, sounds about right.
not too far from you was the cause for all of this, talking with mclaren's pr head as she explained the whole breakdown of what would be happening. and yes, you're entirely blaming him for easily convincing you to do this with him. and who was "him" you may ask – well you're stupidly, handsome boyfriend of course.
lando.
when you notice a sudden shadow over you, you turn to see one of the social media people, adam, beaming while holding a camera pointed at you.
"are you already filming?" you ask with a laugh.
"yeah, gotta get content for the before. so~ how are you feeling? excited? nervous?"
"like i'm gonna throw up, but i haven't decided if it's from nerves or excitement yet," you explain with a laugh. you were actually quite nervous, and sure you trust lando with your life, but that doesn't mean you still can't be nervous.
"do you think lando is going to do well?"
you pause for a moment, playing it up a little bit as you dramatically tap your chin while fake thinking, "well, considering he drives for a living i would hope he does well. but i don't know," you add doing a hair flip, "having a beautiful lady next to him might make him nervous."
"hey, hey, don't be bad mouthing me before we even get in the car," a familiar british voice says from next to you. you feel lando's fingers gently graze your lower back – subtly enough that hopefully the camera doesn't catch – as he stands close to you. sun beaming down brightly which causes him to shield his eyes in order to look at you.
"i wasn't bad mouthing you, lan, i was just saying that i hope i don't make you nervous," you explain in a matter-of-fact tone. you're trying your best to cover your nerves with some light banter.
and what could possibly have you acting nervous, you may ask, well... your eyes move to the papaya colored mclaren p1 that sits not from where you're standing. the bright orange reflecting and shining nicely thanks to the flordia sun that it almost makes it hard to look at for too long. usually, you could care less about these sports cars, your lover himself having about sixteen at this point that he often drives you around in.
and you should think about it like that. just lando and you driving around in the mclaren. but no. its not just a casual drive through monaco. it was a hot lap.
lando would be taking you for a hot lap in the mclaren p1 for a youtube video for the miami gp. you were honestly surprised when lando brought it up to you a few weeks ago, saying that the pr team suggested it and thought it would be a great video for fans to enjoy. at first you weren't sure because you had seen the videos of other non-drivers being taken for a hot lap around the tracks and they always made you nervous.
and you trusted lando, he assured you that if you didn't want to do it then he would tell them you said no. but instead you agreed to it. it clearly didn't take much convincing, lando just casually looking at you with those damn gorgeous eyes as his large hands massaged your thighs. damn you're easy.
"oh, we also have a surprise for you, y/n!" emily, one of the other social media people, said completely ripping you away from your thoughts. probably for the better honestly. you look at the young woman who is holding a box in her hands before she's passing it off to you.
you look from her to the camera adam is holding to another camera before finally up at lando, who is already looking at you.
"do you know what this is?" you ask before finally looking back down at the box.
"nope," he says, gently taking the box from your hands so you can easily open it, "why don't you open it and we find out."
you feel a sense of dread wash over you, not really knowing what to fully expect. "okay... but if something jumps out at me, i'm leaving," you say, which makes the staff around you – lando included – laugh.
thankfully, nothing jumps out at you and the dread suddenly turns into curiosity as you carefully set the lid on the ground before starting to remove this tissue paper. "no way," you gasp out loud as a vibrant papaya color is revealed. and when the tissue paper is moved, that's when you fully take in what's in the box.
a papaya colored juicy couture tracksuit.
your jaw drops, like literally as you look up at lando who is equally surprised. "no fucking way," you say again as you pick the jacket up out of the box and fully show it off to lando and the camera. "this is not real," you're in disbelief, "how did you all get this? they don't even make a papaya colored one!"
emily laughs at your reaction, "juicy couture custom-made this set for you. we wanted to make sure you looked... very mclaren-ready and stylish for this video."
you were speechless. completely and utterly speechless as you held the jacket tightly between your fingers.
"it's very you, y/n," lando says with a soft chuckle. you can't help but note how odd it almost sounds to hear your lover call you by your name instead of one of the usual nicknames he defaults too. you figure he's trying to remain somewhat professional in front of his co-workers and the cameras. damn media training. "you should go put it on."
"oh! before you do that, you should definitely look at the pants!" emily says, speaking quickly as if to try and stop of you from running off to change. you furrow your brows before shifting your attention to the pants now, picking them up and turning the over so you could see the backside.
"oh. my. god. that's pretty funny," you say, not able to help the laugh escaping past your glossed lips. you then turn the pants around to show lando and the camera. a wide grin spreading across his lips as a deep chuckle rumbled from his chest.
"that's pretty on brand, honestly, i didn't think juicy did something like this," lando says.
"custom-made means custom-made, lando, even down to the last jewel," emily said. you turn the pants back around to look at the lettering that is usually spotted on the back of the iconic track pants. except instead of these pants saying the infamous 'juicy' along the back, these papaya-colored pants instead said 'mclaren' on them.
you think it would have been even better if it said 'lando' but you know mclaren would never do something like that. no matter how iconic it would have been.
"wow, thank you guys so much. i-i don't even know what to say," you tell the mclaren staff who are all beaming warmly at you. you've known all of them for a good while now, some longer than other thanks to lando. so this gift – even if for the hot lap video – meant a lot to you. "i'm gonna go put it on right now!" you say without a second thought, snatching the box from lando's hands and running into the his side of the mclaren garage and disappearing entirely.
"well," emily says with a laugh, "glad to see the gift was well received! come on, lando, let's film some extra stuff while we wait."
when you rejoined lando and the others, you couldn't help but pose as you did a little walk to fully show off the papaya juicy couture. you made eye contact with your boyfriend as he watched you, eyes watching you fondly as you came to stand next to him in front of the mclaren p1.
"you match with the car," he points out gesturing between you and the car and you can't help but nod in agreement.
"okay! we're gonna go ahead and film the intro, the car is already hooked up with cameras for when you're both ready," emily says in her professional voice.
you feel lando's hand gently brush against yours, you looking at him with a soft gaze. "you ready? not too late to back out."
"i think it is a little too late to back out, lan. i have the tracksuit and everything. but i'm ready."
lando nods before turning to the camera, his own pr-persona taking over as he smiles and talks to the camera.
"alright, everyone," he says, clapping his hands together, "today we are doing something special today here at the miami circuit. as you can see i have a lovely guest with me here," you can feel a heat flush over your face as his words as you smile at him. "and i'm going to be taking y/n on a hot lap around the circuit in this mclaren p1."
the two of you are then handed helmets – safety first, you think – but when you're handed your helmet you can't help but laugh at how the mclaren team once again gave you something that just screams… you.
it was a matching blob helmet, except instead of the familiar fluro color that lando wears it was a nice pink color.
"it's pink, lan! look!" you say showing it off to him with a bright smile as he puts his own helmet on.
"very cute, baby," he says before he's helping you put it on your head and adjusting the strap so it stays on.
once inside the car, the mclaren staff make sure you are strapped in, but its lando double checking that makes your heart flutter. he gives your hand a firm squeeze, bringing it up to his lips and kissing the back of your hand before he's letting go.
"are you ready? cause i'm not holding back," he says with a cheeky smirk as he looks at you. eyebrows wiggling which makes you laugh.
you take a deep breath, before nodding, "yeah, yeah i'm ready." you won't lie, when you got in the car, you couldn't help the nerves start to take over again. but seeing lando next to you behind the wheel made you realize something – that you wouldn't do this with anyone else. that's how much you blindly trust lando.
and then the engine roared to live, vibrating all through you and deep into your bones. your hands suddenly feeling clammy as you rubbed them against your pants. your eyes darting from the windshield, to the mounted go-pro camera, and then to lando who looked completely in his element.
probably because he was y/n, you think before your thoughts are suddenly cut off by the way lando hits the gas. the force from the sudden speed of the super car throwing your head back against the seat.
"holy shit!" you couldn't help but let out, your whole body getting tossed around from the g-force and speed. a bright smile on your face as you couldn't help but let out a laugh. "this is fast, lan!"
"glad you think so, baby!" he shouts back with an equally matching smile. he easily takes the first corner before speeding up again, the whole thing sending chills through your body. "see – i told you it wasn't so bad!" he adds, and you swear he speeds up a little more which makes you let out an excited yell as you grip the leather seats firmly.
you only hope your nails don't damage the seat from how hard your grip is. "this! is! so! insaneeeeeee!! landooooo!!!" your lover can only laugh in response to you as he easily glides the super car through the turns in sector one.
once he got to sector two, you definitely felt like he was trying to show off – for you or the camera you aren't sure. you can literally feel your whole body vibrating and you manage just enough willpower to turn and look at lando. the bastard wasn't even phased by the speed he was taking you both at. you can't believe how easy he makes this look. he really is unbelievable.
"you okay, princess?" you think he's completely forgotten about the cameras in this moment. the nickname making the butterflies vibrate in your stomach as you smile and laugh.
"this is so c-ool, lan! i can't believe you do this all the time!" you tell him as you look back of the road. the straight-shot of sector three letting you know that unfortunately your joyride was almost over. but lando makes sure to speed up one last time. the force throws you back into the seat as you let out an excited yell one last time.
by the end of it, you can barely stop your heart from pounding in your chest. the beating shooting up from your chest to your throat and ears. hands shaking, but you literally couldn't stop yourself from smiling. lando's large hand comes to firmly hold yours, making you look at him with a dazed look.
"that..." you try to say but trail off in order to catch your breath, "that was so fucking awesome."
"yeah? you feel okay, you're shaking."
"i'm great! can we go again? please~" you look at him with a slight pout, knowing he can't resist your puppy eyes.
the british driver lets out a deep chuckle as his free hand comes to gently cup your face. "sadly no, i don't think the team would like that, plus you look like literally jello right now."
"but jello is good though," you say sadly as he starts to unbuckle you first and then himself. you watch as he gets out, rounding the car before opening your door and slowly helping you out. oh yeah, you can definitely feel the jello kicking in now. your legs trembling slightly as you casually lean against lando as he wraps the video up.
"did you have fun, y/n?" he asks, looking down at you.
"absolutely! thank you so much mclaren for letting lando and i do this! this will forever be a core memory!" you say with a laugh.
"that's great! thank you both so much," emily says once they finish filming. "lando, why don't you take y/n back to hospitality and rest for a little bit before your next schedule."
lando doesn't need to be told twice, easily guiding you – his arm securely around your waist as he holds you close.
"i'm glad you agreed to do this with me," he tells you softly, lips kissing the crown of your head once you both were seated on the small couch of his driver's room. your head resting on his chest as you hugged him. the adrenaline from the hot lap finally starting to disappear.
"i couldn't imagine doing a hot lap with anyone else but you, baby," you tell him truthfully. his hand that rests on your waist gives you firm squeeze before its giving your butt a firm pat.
"i still can't believe the team got you this tracksuit," he says with a laugh, "but you honestly look so hot in this. wearing my team color. the word 'mclaren' written on your ass. fucking sexy. but you know what would have made it better?"
"what?"
"if it had my name instead of mclaren."
you sat up immediately with a wide smile, "oh my god, i thought the exact same thing!" you tell him before you're suddenly leaning in and the two of you share a quick kiss.
"i wonder how much it would cost to get juicy to make a custom fluro tracksuit with my name on it?"
The roar of the crowd is deafening as Charles crosses the finish line, and you feel it reverberate through your entire body. Your hands are pressed against the barrier, knuckles white, throat raw from screaming his name. Monaco. He's done it again. Your Charles has won Monaco for the second time.
The emotion crashes over you like a wave-pride, joy, relief all tangled together. You watch as he pumps his fist in the air, the Ferrari slowing down on the cool-down lap, and even from here you can feel the electricity radiating off him. This is his home. His kingdom. And he's just conquered it again.
The podium ceremony feels like it lasts forever.
You watch from the Ferrari hospitality area, surrounded by the team, everyone celebrating, champagne flowing. But your eyes never leave Charles. The way his race suit clings to his body, damp with sweat and champagne. The way his smile lights up his entire face, dimples on full display. The way his eyes scan the crowd until they find you, and when they do, the heat in his gaze makes your breath catch.
He mouths something to you. “Wait for me.”
Your pulse quickens.
The celebrations continue around you, but Charles eventually extracts himself, still in his race suit, hair messy from the champagne shower. He catches your hand as he passes, pulling you along with him through the paddock. No one stops him-everyone knows better than to get between Charles Leclerc and where he wants to be after a win like this.
His driver room is tucked away, private, and the moment the door closes behind you both, the energy shifts. The sounds of celebration fade to a muffled hum. It's just you and him now, and the adrenaline still coursing through his veins.
"Charles-" you start, but he's already on you.
His mouth crashes against yours, hungry and demanding. His hands grip your waist, pulling you flush against him, and you can feel every hard line of his body through the thin fabric of your dress.
He tastes like champagne and victory, and you moan into his mouth as his tongue slides against yours.
"Do you know," he breathes against your lips, his accent thicker than usual, roughened by emotion, "how hard it was to focus on that podium when all I could think about was getting you alone?"
His hands slide down to your ass, squeezing, and he lifts you effortlessly. Your legs wrap around his waist instinctively as he walks you backward until your back hits the wall. The impact makes you gasp, and he swallows the sound with another searing kiss.
"Charles," you manage when he moves to your neck, his teeth grazing the sensitive skin there. "You were incredible out there."
He groans against your throat, and you feel the vibration of it. "Say it again."
"You were incredible," you repeat, threading your fingers through his hair, still damp. "So fucking incredible."
His hips roll against yours, and even through the layers of clothing between you, you can feel how hard he is. The knowledge that you do this to him, that his victory has him this wound up and desperate for you, sends heat pooling low in your belly.
"I need you," he says, his voice rough, almost desperate. "Right now. I need to be inside you."
"Yes," you breathe, and that's all the permission he needs.
He sets you down just long enough to unzip his race suit, shoving it down his shoulders. Underneath, he's wearing his fireproofs, the tight material clinging to every muscle, and your mouth goes dry at the sight. He's beautiful-all lean muscle and golden skin, still flushed from the race and the champagne.
You reach for him, running your hands over his chest, feeling his heart pounding beneath your palms. He's so warm, practically radiating heat, and when you look up at him, his eyes are dark with want.
"Off," he commands, tugging at your dress, and you help him pull it over your head.
His eyes rake over you, taking in the lacy lingerie you wore specifically for this moment—Ferrari red, his number embroidered on the band. His jaw clenches.
"Putain," he swears, his hands immediately going to your breasts, thumbs brushing over your nipples through the lace. "You wore this for me?"
"I had a feeling you'd win," you say, gasping as he pinches lightly, sending sparks of pleasure straight to your core.
"So confident in me," he murmurs, dipping his head to mouth at your breast through the lace, his tongue hot and wet against the fabric. "I love that about you."
Your head falls back against the wall as he lavishes attention on your breasts, alternating between gentle kisses and sharp nips of his teeth. Your hands grip his shoulders, nails digging into the fabric of his fireproofs, and you can feel yourself getting wetter with every passing second.
"Charles, please," you whimper, and he pulls back to look at you, his lips curved in a smirk.
"Please what, chérie?" he asks, his hand sliding down your stomach, fingers playing with the waistband of your panties. "Tell me what you want."
"You," you say, breathless. "I want you."
"More specific," he says, and his fingers dip beneath the lace, finding you wet and ready. He groans. "Merde, you're so wet already. Is this all for me?"
"Yes," you gasp as he circles your clit with agonizing slowness. "All for you. Always for you."
He captures your mouth in another bruising kiss as his fingers work you, sliding through your wetness, teasing your entrance but never quite giving you what you need. You're trembling against him, desperate, and when you try to rock your hips to get more friction, he pulls his hand away entirely.
You whine at the loss, and he chuckles darkly.
"Patience," he says, but his own control seems to be fraying at the edges. He hooks his fingers in your panties and pulls them down your legs, and you step out of them on shaky legs.
He pushes his fireproofs and boxer briefs down just enough to free himself, and the sight of him-hard and thick and already leaking-makes your mouth water. You reach for him, wrapping your hand around his length, and he hisses through his teeth.
"Fuck," he groans as you stroke him, your thumb swiping over the head, spreading the wetness there. "You're going to make me lose control."
"Good," you say, squeezing slightly, and his hips buck into your hand.
But he's not willing to give up control that easily. He grabs your wrist, pulling your hand away, and then he's lifting you again, pinning you against the wall. Your legs wrap around his waist, and you can feel him right there, the head of his cock nudging against your entrance.
"Look at me," he commands, and your eyes snap to his. "I want to see your face when I fill you up."
And then he's pushing inside, one slow, torturous inch at a time, and you can't look away from him even if you wanted to. His eyes are locked on yours, dark and intense, and you watch as his jaw clenches with the effort of holding back.
"Mon Dieu," he breathes when he's fully seated inside you, and you feel so full, stretched around him perfectly. "You feel incredible. So tight, so perfect."
You can't form words, can only whimper as he starts to move, pulling out almost completely before thrusting back in. The angle has him hitting that spot inside you that makes you see stars, and your nails dig into his shoulders as you hold on.
"Harder," you manage to gasp out, and he groans.
"You want it harder?" he asks, his accent thick, and he punctuates the question with a sharp thrust that has you crying out. "Like this?"
"Yes, fuck, yes," you moan, and he sets a punishing pace, fucking into you with all the pent-up energy and adrenaline from the race.
The sound of skin slapping against skin fills the small room, mixed with your moans and his grunts of effort. The wall is hard against your back, but you don't care-all you can focus on is the feeling of him inside you, the way he's taking you apart with every thrust.
"You're mine," he growls against your ear, his teeth catching your earlobe. "Say it."
"I'm yours," you gasp, and it's true-you've never been more his than in this moment, pinned between him and the wall, completely at his mercy.
"That's right," he says, and one of his hands slides between your bodies, finding your clit. "And I'm going to make you cum on my cock. I want to feel you fall apart for me."
His fingers work your clit in tight circles as he continues to thrust into you, and the dual sensation is overwhelming. You can feel your orgasm building, that familiar tension coiling tighter and tighter in your core.
"Charles," you whimper, "I'm close, I'm so close—"
"Cum for me," he commands, his voice rough. "Cum for me, chérie. Let me feel it."
And you do. Your orgasm crashes over you like a tidal wave, and you cry out his name as your body convulses around him. He doesn't stop, fucking you through it, prolonging your pleasure until you're trembling and oversensitive.
"Putain, yes," he groans, and you can feel him getting closer, his thrusts becoming more erratic. "You're so beautiful when you come. So fucking beautiful."
He buries his face in your neck, and you can feel his breath hot against your skin as he chases his own release. You clench around him deliberately, and he curses.
"Where?" he gasps, and you know what he's asking.
"Inside," you breathe. "I want to feel you cum inside me."
That's all it takes. He thrusts deep one last time and stills, and you feel him pulsing inside you as he cums with a groan that sounds like it's torn from somewhere deep in his chest. His fingers dig into your hips hard enough to bruise, and you love it-love having these marks of him on you.
For a long moment, neither of you moves, both of you breathing hard, bodies still joined. Your legs are shaking from the effort of holding yourself up, and he seems to realize it because he carefully lowers you to the ground, though he doesn't pull out yet.
"Okay?" he asks softly, his hand coming up to cup your face, thumb brushing over your cheekbone.
"More than okay," you assure him, leaning into his touch. "That was..."
"Yeah," he agrees, a satisfied smile playing at his lips.
When he does finally pull out, you both wince at the sensitivity. He tucks himself back into his fireproofs, then helps you locate your discarded clothes. Your legs are still unsteady, and he steadies you with a hand on your waist, looking entirely too pleased with himself.
"You're going to have to go back out there," you remind him, gesturing vaguely toward the door and the celebrations beyond.
"I know," he says, but he doesn't sound particularly concerned about it. Instead, he pulls you close again, this time for a slower, sweeter kiss. "But this was more important."
You smile against his lips. "Congratulations, bébé. On your second Monaco win."
"Thank you," he murmurs, and there's something soft in his expression now, the post-orgasm haze mixing with the genuine emotion of the day. "Having you here to celebrate with me... it means everything."
Your heart swells, and you kiss him again, trying to pour all your love and pride into it.
"We should probably make ourselves presentable," you say eventually, though you're reluctant to leave this bubble you've created.
He helps you smooth down your dress, his fingers lingering on your skin, and you try to tame his hair, though it's a lost cause. He looks thoroughly debauched, and anyone who sees him is going to know exactly what you've been doing.
The thought makes you blush, but Charles just grins, unrepentant.
"Let them know," he says, reading your expression. "Let them all know that I have the most beautiful woman waiting for me after every race."
"Charmer," you accuse, but you're smiling.
He kisses your forehead, then your nose, then your lips. "Only for you."
There's a knock on the door-someone from the team, probably, wondering where he's disappeared to. Charles sighs but doesn't move away from you immediately.
"I suppose we should go," he says reluctantly.
"You're the man of the hour," you remind him. "They're waiting for you."
"One more kiss," he says, and who are you to deny him?
This kiss is different from the others-still passionate but tinged with promise. A promise of more celebrations to come, of a night together after all the official obligations are done, of a future full of moments like this.
When you finally emerge from the driver room, hand in hand, the knowing looks from the team members make you blush, but Charles just laughs, pulling you closer. He's won Monaco for the second time, and he has you by his side.
love your writing & would love if you’d write the prompts from summer list no 3 - scenario no 25 sex in a sundress w dialogue no 15 and/or no 18, however you’d like to write it out! maybe w mat barzal, that man screams sucker for a sundress 💛💛
list no.3, smut prompt no.25: sex in a sundress + prompt no.15: “you look good in that.”
smut 18+
“you look good in that,” mat’s voice is laced with fondness and something inexplicably dirty, eyeing you from the archway that leads to the kitchen. the sundress he’s referring to meats mid thigh, slipping higher as you lean across the counter to grab another room temperature lemon from the wooden fruit bowl—one of those ridiculously expensive ones you begged for, and he couldn’t resist buying for you. because above all else, mat barzal is whipped and gets off on spoiling you.
you shoot him a sweet, faux innocent look as you slice the bottom of the lemon, the knife hitting the matching wood cutting board with a dull click.
“thank you baby,” you say, squeezing the citrus fruit into a glass pitcher, the acidic juice cracking over the ice. “wanted to look nice for everyone.”
mat hums, a non-committal sound that’s tells you he’s half distracted. suddenly, his hands find your hips over the floral material, squeezing and bunching up the fabric. not enough to expose anything, but just enough to tease.
“might need you to change,” he nips at the lobe of your ear, “can’t have you looking this fuckable with a bunch of my teammates running around.”
you feel his half heard member beneath his linen shorts, pressing against the crease of your ass like its searching for shelter. you laugh, breathily, and arch into it, dropping the disgraced lemon to the makeshift trash can beside the cutting board.
mat continues, “you know schaf has a hard on for you baby, I can’t deal with that today.”
you spin in his grasp and run your fingers over the nape of his neck, toying with the grown out hair there. he’s been itching to buzz it again for summer, and you had to beg him with a blowy to keep it. safe to say, it worked.
“leave him alone,” you murmur, “he’s a kid.”
he rolls his eyes at that, but he’s beginning to grin, all toothy and sexy in a way that makes you clenching you thighs together like a virgin.
“a kid who’s gunna be looking at my girls ass that’s almost hanging out her dress.”
you take your bottom lip between you teeth, while your other hand finds solace under his loose tee, finger tips grazing his v-line and the dark trial of hair that leads beneath his shorts.
“gunna spank me for it?”
mat laughs, low and amused, “can’t hurt that pretty thing baby.” then, he’s lifting you onto the counter, so quick that you don’t even get a blink in before you realize what’s happening. mat pushes the lemons to the side so they don’t get knocked, because you’ve spent all morning prepping that homemade lemonade and he’d be damned if it went to waste.
your sundress bunches around your hips as your legs spread naturally, the counter top cool and sticky against your skin. mat steps between them, and pushes them even further apart with his rough hands, exposing the small triangle of cotton you claim are underwear.
he almost looses it at the sight.
“but maybe i’ll fuck you, right here on the counter our friends will be gathered around soon,” you whimper, completely at his mercy already. mat grabs your chin between his thumb and forefinger, holding you steady. his eyes dart between your pouted mouth and your gaze, unable to tear his away for too long from one before jumping back to the other.
he continues, voice slow like frozen honey, “remind you exactly who you’re wearing this dress for.”
if you weren’t so deep right now, you’d tell mat that his younger teammate isn’t a problem—but in reality, you both already know that. the whole matthew having a crush on you is something sweet, totally lighthearted, and not at all worrisome. but there’s something unexpectedly erotic about the alternative that neither of you seem to care about clearing up.
leaning back on your palms, you watch through half lidded eyes as mat pulls himself out of those crisp linen shorts. he pumps his length from base to achy tip three times, spreading the collection of pre-cum that had beaded at his slit.
you take your bottom lips between your teeth again, pussy clenching in anticipation as he inches impossibly closer. with a free hand, mat pulls your painted to the side, grunting appropriately when a gooey string of arousal connects the material to your lips.
“fucking…jesus,” he nudges his head against your entrance, teasing but not entering. after a few seconds, he pumps himself up towards your clit, collecting your slick and spreading it all over both of your most intimate areas.
you whine, head dropping back between your shoulder as a jolt of pleasure shoots up your spine before settling at the lowest point of your belly. he hasn’t even slide inside yet and you’re already close—it’s almost pathetic.
mat curses again. it won’t take either of you long, he can tell based on the way your nipples have turned to glass points beneath the cups of your dress, and the way his balls are already tightening at the base of his length.
without wanting to waste anymore time of half assed foreplay, he inches himself inside you. slow. inch by inch until the tip brushes your fluttering cervix. you gasp at the feeling, back arching until your covered tits are practically in his face.
now fully sheathed, mat grabs at your hips again, dragging you to the very edge of the lemon scented countertop. “shit, I gotta move. can’t help myself, you feel too good baby.”
your jaw hangs as you finally find the strength to lift your head back up, eyes falling down to the erotic scene between your legs. all you can manage in response is a pleading noise—a half whine, half yes.
and with that, he begins rolling his hips. slowly at first, building that toe curling momentum that has you both feeling fuzzy in the knees. then, the pace increases as you both barley begin to climb the metaphorical ladder. the sounds of your mingled heavy breathing, and the plap plap plap of mat pounding into you echos throughout your home, louder than the hum of the air conditioning and the music playing quietly through the radio.
you grab at his bicep, manicured nails digging into fleshy muscle as your inner walls begin to tighten and pulse around him. “matty—oh fuck—mat i’m gunna cum.”
he lets out a vibrating grunt, because the pure whimsical desperation in your voice is enough to have him twitching with incoming release.
“come on then,” mat huffs, hastily releasing your hip in favour of thumbing at your rosy clit. it’s slick from earlier, which makes it easy to stimulate you oh so perfectly. “shit, y/n, cum all over my dick.”
you can’t help but to let out another unrestrained noise, a mixture between a shout and a mewl as you do just as he said. one rough pump later you’re releasing all over him, a creamy mess that soaks his cock and dribbles down your ass.
“oh yeah,” he grunts, watching your body twitch with your climax. long lashes fluttering with bliss, mouth prettily hung open like an invitation. without thinking, he uses the thumb that had been toying with your clit to put in your mouth, using that leverage to drag your attention back to him.
you moan, lisp enclosing around the digit, lazily suckling like it’s a dummy.
“watch me cum,” he demands, abs clenching beneath his top as he finds peak, “watch me fucking fill up this pretty pussy. then later, when the guys are here and eye-fucking what’s mine, I want you to feel my seed sitting thick and hot in your slutty panties.”
For your mbf series could you do like ex-fwb with mat Barzal for go go juice
Go Go Juice
Mat Barzal x female reader
mbf series masterlist
wc: 1.6k
How's you's been, what's ups!
The first drink had been harmless, a casual glass of wine with dinner after a long, miserable week that had left you feeling wrung out and restless. By the second drink, you’d convinced yourself you deserved a little fun, and by the third, the dull ache sitting beneath your ribs had softened into something warm and floaty, and suddenly sitting alone in your apartment sounded unbearable.
So you’d texted a friend, thrown on the tiny silver top you always swore you only wore for yourself, and stumbled your way into a crowded bar downtown where the music was loud enough to drown out your thoughts.
Unfortunately, it wasn’t loud enough to drown out him. Mat Barzal had always had terrible timing, or maybe perfect timing, depending on how honest you wanted to be with yourself; every time you thought you were finally getting over him, something would drag him back into your head. A hoodie left at the bottom of your closet, a hockey clip showing up on your feed, someone wearing his cologne in passing.
It didn’t help that what existed between the two of you had never ended cleanly, there hadn’t been some dramatic breakup or screaming match; just two people pretending casual was easy until one of you cared too much and the other cared in ways he didn’t know how to admit.
Friends with benefits was supposed to mean boundaries. It was supposed to mean late-night hookups and easy goodbyes, not tangled feelings and jealous silences. But somewhere between sneaking into his apartment after Islanders games and falling asleep against his chest while reruns played quietly in the background, things had blurred.
You’d started memorizing the sound of his laugh, he’d started texting you for reasons that had nothing to do with sex. And then, like cowards, both of you had backed away before either of you could say what you actually wanted.
Now you were sitting at the bar with glossy lips wrapped around the straw of your fourth drink, staring at his contact photo on your phone like it had personally offended you.
“You are not calling him,” your friend said immediately, noticing the expression on your face, you looked up innocently. “Who?”
“Mat.” She replies immediately, looking at you with an incredulous expression. “I wasn’t even thinking about Mat.” You mumble.
“You’ve been thinking about Mat for twenty straight minutes.” She sighs, cocking an eyebrow at your frown.
“That’s an unlawful accusation.” You shake your head, looking at her pointedly, “It’s literally his contact open on your screen.” She counters immediately.
You glanced down. “Oh.”
Your friend groaned and reached for your phone, but you twisted away with a laugh, nearly knocking your drink over in the process. The alcohol buzzing through your system had turned every thought in your head into a brilliant idea, and right now the most brilliant idea of all felt painfully obvious; you missed him.
Not in the heartbreaking, crying on the floor way you had a month ago, tonight it felt softer than that. You felt lonely. The kind of loneliness that only appeared after midnight when the lights were dim and you wanted someone familiar to look at you like you were worth ruining your sleep schedule over.
You pressed call before you could think better of it, your friend made a horrified noise beside you. “Oh my god, hang up!”
Too late, the phone rang once, barely even twice, then his voice slid through the speaker, low and rough and devastatingly familiar. “Hello?”
Your stomach flipped so hard it almost sobered you up. For a second you forgot why calling him had seemed like such a good idea. All you could picture was him leaning back against his couch, the one you were too familiar with, sweatpants low on his hips, one hand rubbing tiredly over his jaw.
You remembered exactly how warm his apartment felt at night, remembered the lazy smirk he always wore when he opened the door for you like he already knew you’d end up tangled in his sheets before the night was over. “You answered,” you blurted.
A beat of silence passed before he laughed softly. “You sound surprised.”
“I honestly didn’t think you would.” He chuckles, and you can practically see him shaking his head, “You called me three times.”
You frowned at your phone screen. “Did I?”
“Yeah, baby. Back-to-back.” The nickname hit you straight in the chest, you swallowed hard and leaned your elbows onto the sticky bar counter, pressing your fingers against your forehead as the room tilted pleasantly around you. “Okay, well, in my defense, this is a very important phone call.”
“Oh, it is?” You nodded seriously even though he couldn’t see you. “Critical, actually.”
He laughed again, quieter this time, and the sound settled somewhere deep beneath your skin. God, you hated how easy it still was with him. Weeks without speaking and he could still pull a smile out of you within seconds,“You drunk?” he asked knowingly. You scoff, “No.”
“You’re slurring.” He follows, you can hear his smile as he talks. “I’m talking like this on purpose, it's a bit."
“A bit,” he repeated. You hum, “Yes. There’s nuance."
You heard movement on the other end of the line, like he was sitting up straighter now, suddenly paying closer attention. The noise of the bar faded around you while his breathing filled your ear, warm and familiar enough to make your chest ache. "Where are you?” he asked.
“At a bar.” You say, cupping your hand to the speaker of your phone as the song changes to something a bit louder. He huffs, “I can hear that, with who?”
You look around, like you forgot,“Friends.”
“You safe?” The question softened you immediately. It always did. No matter how casual things had been between you, Mat had always cared in quiet ways that snuck up on you. His hand on your lower back while crossing streets. Texts asking if you got home okay. Pulling your drunk body against his side in crowded rooms without even thinking about it.
“Mhm,” you murmured. “Very safe. Very hydrated too.” You nod again, still talking like he could see you.
“You’re holding a margarita, aren’t you?” He hums. You blinked down at the drink in your hand. “That’s actually terrifying.”
“I know you.” The words settled heavily between you. Your friend was openly eavesdropping now, mouthing don’t do it across the table while you ignored her completely. You twisted the straw between your fingers. “Are you in town?” You ask.
“Yeah.” Something warm curled low in your stomach at the answer, “Busy?”
A pause, “No.” Your heartbeat stumbled, you could practically hear the smirk forming on his face now, and you hated yourself a little for loving it so much.
“What’s this really about?” he asked softly.
You stared out at the crowd dancing beneath flashing lights, at strangers pressed together under neon signs and spilled liquor and music that rattled the floor. Everyone looked like they belonged somewhere tonight, everyone except you.
And maybe that was why you called him.
Because for all the ways things between you had gotten messy, Mat had always known exactly what to do with you. He knew how you took your coffee and how you looked when you were pretending not to be upset. He knew you got clingy when you drank tequila and quiet when you were sad. He knew how to make you laugh when you wanted to cry.
Most dangerously of all, he knew exactly how to touch you. “I don’t know,” you admitted honestly. “I think I just wanted to hear your voice.”
The line went quiet; not uncomfortable quiet, heavy quiet, the kind loaded with too many things left unsaid. “You miss me that much?” he asked eventually, his voice lower now.
You laughed weakly and tipped your head back. “That’s the embarrassing part, isn’t it?” You lift your glass to your lips again, like the alcohol is the only the reason you could be talking to him. “Could be worse.” He says.
“How?” Your eyebrows furrow, completely lost.
“You could be at my apartment already.” Heat rushed across your cheeks instantly. “Mat,” you breathed, half warning and half something else entirely.
“What?” he asked innocently. “You’re the one who called me.”
You bit your lip hard enough to hurt. This was exactly why staying away from him had been impossible. One conversation and suddenly every memory came rushing back at once; his hands gripping your waist in dark kitchens, lazy mornings spent wrapped in his sheets, the way he always looked at you like he knew something nobody else did. “I’m serious,” you said quietly. “I had a bad week.”
His teasing faded immediately, “What happened?”
You shrugged even though he couldn’t see it. “Just life. Everything feels annoying lately.”
“Mm.” You can hear him shifting on the other end, you bite your lip slightly, just wishing you were there.
“And I know this sounds terrible,” you continued, words loosening further with every sip of alcohol still lingering on your tongue, “but sometimes I think maybe being in your bed would fix at least forty percent of my problems.” A choked laugh escaped him. “Forty percent?”
“Minimum.” You add.
“You think very highly of me.” He laughs, letting out a slight huff. You shake your head,“I think very highly of your mattress.”
“Ouch, that’s cold.”
“You know what isn’t cold?” you asked, voice dropping conspiratorially. “Your apartment.” Smiling when you get the reaction you wanted; his laugh. “You are so drunk.”
"Yeah.” Another pause settled between you, warmer this time. You could hear traffic faintly in the background on his end, could picture him rubbing a hand over his mouth while trying not to smile. Then he sighed softly. “You want me to come get you?”
The offer wrapped around you like heat, your friend’s eyes widened from across the table as if she could somehow sense the shift in the conversation. You should’ve said no, every rational thought in your head knew this was a terrible idea, nothing good ever came from revisiting almost relationships after midnight, especially not when tequila and unresolved feelings were involved.
But then you imagined him walking into the bar in a hoodie and backwards cap, imagined his hand sliding around your waist while he leaned close enough for you to smell his cologne again. You imagined ending the night laughing against his shoulder in the backseat of a car, imagined the familiar warmth of his apartment, his fingers tracing lazy circles against your skin while neither of you acknowledged how impossible it was to quit each other. You were tired of pretending you didn’t want him.
“You know,” you said slowly, smiling into your drink, “I think that might be exactly what I’m calling about.”
summary: you and nate have been dating for years but nobody knew (only very close people) but he wants to let your fans know that HE is the boyfriend but they don’t catch it
note: I saw a post of the nhl followers tracker and I had this idea, and I'm literally posting this while I'm in class at uni, enjoyyyyy!
INSTAGRAM
yourusername
liked by mackinnon29, yourbestf and others
yourusername a week in San Francisco!
comments
user1 sf looks good on you ngl
user2 obsessed with this whole grid
mintentea I love this
yourbestf this looks like such a good week, I’m jealous
yourusername girl, we’re going next month chill
user6 watching hockey at a bar in san francisco is very interesting
user29 you made a vlog? 😁
yourusername yes! I’ll post it in 10 minutes :)
user87 the fact that there’s hockey in this dump feels important istg
nylandergf oh she’s chronically online i fear
TIKTOK ‘SF SHORT VLOG!”
You start filming while you’re already walking, the city moving around you instead of waiting for you to catch up. The camera bounces slightly with each step. “Okay, hi,” you say, a little breathless but smiling. “We’re walking around San Francisco right now.”
You turn the phone just enough to show the street ahead, buildings, people, the slope of the road and then back to you. “We’re kind of just exploring today. No real plan, just vibes.” Nate walks close enough beside you that his shoulder brushes yours now and then. You don’t move away. “Right now we’re heading to get coffee,” you add, glancing sideways for half a second. “And then we’ll see where the day takes us.”
You keep talking as you go, narrating small moments like they matter. “Okay, we just bought these,” you say a little later, lifting a matching pair of slippers into the frame. “Because we have a nephew, and he’s obsessed with Minions. He wants to have a sleepover with us, so we’re doing it properly, that is matching slippers and everything.” You smile, amused by your own explanation. “I think it’s actually really fun.”
His hand slips into the view, pointing at something inside the bag, and you laugh. “Yes, that too,” you say, pulling out a small postcard with the Golden Gate on it. “You’re gonna pretend I’m the kind of person who send a mail, okay?” You grin. “Now we’re walking this way because apparently there’s a really good view up there.” You tilt the camera toward the street again. “It’s uphill, though, so… wish us luck.”
. . .
After the Golden Gate, you go to the burger place and the sound shifts, music, voices, plates clinking. You prop your phone against a glass. “Okay, quick food update,” you say. “I got a cheeseburger with fries,” you explain, “and you got the double burger with bacon.” You glance off-camera, already smiling. “Right?” A nod you don’t show. “Yeah.” You lean in a little, lowering your voice like it’s a secret. “We’re absolutely breaking his diet today and I do not care,” you add, laughing. “San Francisco rules.”
When the burgers arrive, you pause, eyes lighting up. You turn slightly. “Take it, babe,” you say easily, passing the phone over. The angle changes, catching you mid-laugh as you take a big bite, immediately covering your mouth. You give a thumbs up. “It’s so good,” you manage once you can talk again, still smiling.
The video ends much later, when the day has softened. You’re sitting on the grass now, legs pulled in, the city quieter around you. The camera is steady again. “Okay,” you say, smiling into the lens. “I think that’s it for today. I hope you liked coming along with us,” you add. You glance off to the side for a second, then back, like you’re checking something only you can see. “This day was actually kind of short because I wasn’t even planning on vlogging… but he told me I should, so thanks to him, you have this video.” You laugh softly and tuck a piece of hair behind your ear. “Thank you so much for watching,” you continue. “I’ll see you next time, which, if I’m not wrong, is probably going to be the sleepover with my nephew.” You smile wider. “Goodbye!”
748k comments
user7: SINCE WHEN YOU HAVE A WHOLE BOYFRIEND?? 😭😭
user29: the minion slippers hahahahh
user2: girl blink twice if he’s forcing you to hike
user99: omg I'll sound crazy if I say I recognize that finger
user3: wdym his diet??? what he does for a living? I have a friend (nate) and he have a strict diet too…
user6: Nate reveal when???
user38: well, thanks to Nate we have this vlog 🙏🏻
user99: we don’t know if he’s the bf, tf
user12: if Nate post something about minions someone will have to sedate me
user1: YOU HAVE A BOYFRIEND???
user34: he knows your angles
TWITTER
INSTAGRAM
mackinnon29 and yourusername posted on their story !
[mackinnon29] bmarch63 replied to your story!
bmarch63: stop giving your girlfriend a headache!
mackinnon29: leave me alone! I want to let her fans know she’s taken
bmarch63: just post a picture of her!
mackinnon29: I have to wait
bmarch63: wait for what?
[yourusername] bmarch63 replied to your story!
bmarch63: Nate posted the same one
yourusername: I took it lol, he told me he wanted to post one but didn’t know how to take it
bmarch63: yk what he’s trying to do, right??
yourusername: yes but he’s really bad 👎🏻👎🏻
yourusername
liked by mackinnon29, bmarch63 and others
yourusername ti amo milano
comments
nylandergf omggg just say you two are dating already, I’m tired
user17 girl just tag the medal owner already
user87 TWICE! I CAN SEE HIM IN BOTH PICTURES
user29 this isn’t casual btw
user14 the fact that he’s visible in BOTH shots
yourbestf i didn’t know you were an olympian
yourusername since yesterday
bmarch63 still surprised you got him to go sightseeing during a tournament
user7 GOT WHO? user okay but which canadian are we talking about
user1 this is relationship propaganda
user222 imagine being her bf and seeing this 👎🏻
mackinnon29 i have the same medal
yourusername no way! a friend borrow me this one user6 THIS IS WORSE THAN A MISSED EMPTY NET user29 bro scored for canada but can’t score here user87 I can’t believe that natemac is on the friendzone
friend.ofboth you got a medal? hope you bringing to home
yourusername just for you, babe! 😘 user8 wait so the bf is real? 😧 user29 so you and Nate is not happening? user58 oh…
mackinnon29
liked by yourusername, mcdavid97 and others
mackinnon29 thank you Canada, for your incredible support throughout this ride 🇨🇦 Milan was a special experience, thank you
comments
yourusername the second one is peak 🔥
mackinnon29 I like the last one more
bmarch63 the best team! ❤️🇨🇦
the creator limited the comments
TWITTER
INSTAGRAM
mackinnon29
liked by calemakar_, bmarch63 and others
mackinnon29 ten years and the rest of our lives together @/yourusername
this one should probably have a tw -- so mentions of car accidents under the cut
The car spun, flipping over and rolling before coming to a stop. The whole garage goes silent, your heart drops to your stomach.
Your boyfriend was still in the car.
His race engineer shouting over the radio, trying to get ahold of Pato. Everyone else is quiet, you could hear a pin drop. Pato’s groan comes over the radio and you let out a breath, he’s alive and conscious.
“Pato, injuries ?” The race engineer asks him, he groans again. “Don’t know - hurts.”
You hadn’t even realized the tears were running down your cheeks as you watched the monitors, his car still flipped over, he was all by himself. The marshals haven't gotten there yet.
Finally they get over to him, moving the car and taking him to medical. You weren't allowed to go see him there, you were stuck waiting. His press officer was allowed to go, coming back with him after half an hour, she tells you about his doctor’s visit before letting him go to his motorhome. “Few bruises, a bump on the head but no concussion. Just needs some rest so he’ll skip out on press today. You can go see him,” she tells you, and you thank her before rushing off to find him.
“Babe?” You call quietly as you step inside, locking the door so no one would bother you both. “Room!” he calls back and you follow his voice to find him in the room, changing out his race suit.
There’s a purplish bruise already forming on his side. “Pato..”
“Baby, please.” His arms are open and you walk over to him, hugging him. “Are you okay?” You ask him, hands on his cheek as you two move to sit on the bed. “I’m fine, just a little bruised - you know I bruise like a peach.” He smiles, making you laugh.
Even when he was hurt, he made you smile.
“Are you sure you're okay?”
“I’m fine, I promise.” he assures you, laying back onto the pillows. “But.. if I say I'm not, what do I get? Just out of curiosity.”
“I’ll love on you,” you chuckles, kissing his cheek as you lay beside him.
“Well.. ow!” Pato rests his hand on his side, “hurts soooo much angel,” he pouts making you laugh.
“Oh, you poor thing.” You kiss him softly, “what can I do to make you feel better ?”
“Ride me.” He answers you a little too quick, earning him a look. He shrugs, “it’ll make me feel better.” He says as you get onto his lap, “in that case, let me take care of you baby.” You lean down and kiss him softly.
giving pato the cold shoulder and him having to fuck u happy ;)
this has been in my inbox forever sorry it took me so long!
it was a stupid reason to be mad but you were; he shouldn't have eaten the last of your ice cream. To be fair, Pato was away for his race so how was he supposed to know you were saving the ice cream for when you handed in your work assignment?
He had even gone out and bought more for you and yet, you ignored him. Your pettiness jumped out and you didn’t even eat the ice cream he bought for you. Instead you moped around and ignored him, going out with your best friend to get ice cream.
“Are you seriously still mad at me?” Pato asks, walking into the bedroom later that evening. You glance at the man and say nothing, turning your attention back to the tv.
He rolls his eyes, sitting on the bed. You still haven’t said anything to him but Pato grabs your chin, pulling you to look at him. You have no choice but to pay attention to him.
“What?” You ask, looking at the man.
“What’s your problem ? I said sorry, I replaced your stupid ice cream and you’re still upset.”
“You’re annoying, go away.”
“C’mon,” he pulls you closer. “What’s bothering you?”
“You are. Stop bothering me now.” You turn your attention back to the screen and Pato hums, shifting to sit between your legs. You glance between him and the screen before moving back to the screen.
His hand slides up your thigh, his lips following suit as they leave a trial of kiss behind. The man works his way up to between your legs. “Pato,” you call and he looks up at you, “what?”
“Stop bothering me,” you huff.
Your boyfriend ignored you, he knows you well enough to know you were just giving him a hard time. He feels your thighs squeeze around his head when you feel his tongue on your clit.
Your hips buck and a hand drops down to his hair. “That’s what I thought,” he mumbles against you and you nudge him with your thigh.
Can you imagine being friends with either Pato or Lando and the other one being jealous of your friendship but begins to flirt with you so that your attention has boy goes to either driver!!! 😩🫢… I could never choose between one or the other
I made lando the bestie and pato the one reader picks loool
you and lando are best friends, you had joined him for the last race of the season and you were sitting in the back of garage when pato finds you. he asks if he could sit beside you.
pato had seen you around the mclaren garage before; you were there when he joined them in mexico as well. you two had always made small talk, just hi’s and hellos as you go your way.
you tell him go ahead and you two watch the quali session together. “so, who are you here for?” he asks and your brows furrow, “pardon?”
“your badge, you’ve got a regular pass.” “oh,” you smile, showing him the back. ‘guest of l. norris’ printed onto it.
he hums, you two end up chatting and hitting it off. if you weren't mistaken, pato was flirting with you; laying on the charm pretty thick.
you told him he did well for his FP1 and he thanks you, asking if you were sticking around for the young drivers test.
“lando is spending a few days so yeah, I'll be around.”
“you could come by, we can do dinner later.” he says, an arm around the back of your seat. “oh,” you smile, “is that so?”
“yeah, but we can do something else if you'd like.” he smiles at you and you laugh, he really had a way of putting in the charm.
shifting in your seat, you look at the driver. “and what exactly would we do?” you ask him and pato’s eyes meet yours. he leans in, his lips by your ear when he whispers the filthiest things to you.
“oh,” you breathe, cheeks red. “you’re uh-” you clear your throat, “yeah, that sounds good.”
pato smiles, “yeah?” he asks, a hand resting on your thigh. You smile, nodding. “I think I'll stick around then.”
“am I interrupting something?” lando asks, you didn’t even notice he was back in the garage. you smile at your best friend, “no, you’re fine.” you tell him, lando’s brows furrow as he looks at you two and he hum.
sleepy morning kisses that accidentally turn intense + Pato
we love some soft Pato
“Morning baby,” you whisper, feeling him bury his face into your chest.
“Hi,” he mumbles. You two lay there in silence, your leg over his hip, his arm over your waist.
It was a good morning, Rocky was still sleeping downstairs based on the fact that there’s no noise right now. You run a hand through your boyfriend’s hair, the brown locks shorter now that he’s cut it.
“Why’d you cut your hair?” you ask him, Pato leans back and looks up at you. “It was getting too long,” he tells you, making you pout.
Pato can’t help but kiss you, you looked too adorable. “It’s just hair, it’ll grow back.”
“Yeah,” you mumble between kisses, “but what am I supposed to tug on now?”
Pato laughs, rolling you two over so you were on your back. “You wanna see if you can tug on this?” he offers, kissing down to your collarbone.
“It’s too short,” you tell him, rolling your eyes at the fact that he even cut his hair in the first place. Pato has shifted to between your legs, tugging on the black lace between the two of you.
You glance down at him, propping yourself up on your elbow.
Pato takes one of your hands and rests it on his head, “tug away baby,” his lips are on you.
You can’t help but giggle at how stupid this was but that was instantly washed away by the feeling of your boyfriend’s mouth on you.
Lando's sister @landossister - Tumblr Blog | Tumgag
