SUMMARY: After the Baku GP, your flight gets delayed because of a storm. Carlos, Charles and you find yourselves traveling back to Monaco in a van. Everything is fine except for the fact that Charles can’t sit still and it's slowly getting on your nerves…
FEATURING: CS55 × F1 Academy driver!f!reader × little!CL16
CW: age regression | hinted ambiguous poly relationship
NOTE: Inspired by what really happened after Baku. For plot purposes, made the trip from Genoa to Monaco longer because I didn't know it was only a 2h trip when writing this so let’s pretend it’s longer xd
Pretty banner made by none other than the talented @parkerloves <3
Bonus part
When you guys thought that this weekend couldn't get any worse, it did.
Airplane delayed. Random landing in the little airport of Genoa in Italy instead of Nice. Having to rent a van without snapping at the employee who took all of her time checking the discount scenarios as if you guys weren't in a rush, exhausted, and just done with the situation.
If the dark eyebags on your face weren't already an indicator of your state of exhaustion, your moody attitude was enough. You almost snatched the car keys out of the employee's hands, giving her a snarky "Thank you" full of irony, and literally made a run to the rented car so you could get out of Italy.
Stupid storm. Stupid race weekend that ended badly for both Charles and you. You were so frustrated of your driving, even after hours of leaving Baku. You could have done so much better, but no. You were unable to do anything good with your car, making you mad at yourself, doubt creeping inside you making you wonder if you were worthy of being part of the F1 Academy. Charles' DNF made you even more desperate. Thankfully, Carlos did wonderful and celebrating with him his first podium with his team was a pure delight. The gleam on his face was everything in the world. All three of you cheered, hugged, screamed. The mood was amazing.
Until now.
Night time. Rain. Lost in the middle of nowhere.
You weren't the only one upset by the situation, Carlos was too. He was annoyed at the commander who said the landing in Nice was unsafe and at Charles for taking the decision to land in Genoa out of fear for bumpy flights without asking either Carlos or you.
The Williams driver was just way better than you at hiding his real thoughts and putting his negative feelings aside.
As you made your way to the van, Carlos and Charles followed you, both used to you being in command on a daily basis.
Your body was so heavy with exhaustion, you were thankful for Carlos who took the driver seat as soon as all of your luggages were packed in the back of the car.
"No breaks," you grumbled as you fastened your belt, sitting in the back row seat of the van, "Straight to Monaco and I don't wanna hear any complaint."
"Are we really not taking a single break for a four hour trip?" Carlos asked, playful.
"Yes," you groaned, while Charles, who looked about to say something, finally changed his mind and closed his mouth.
"Roger," Carlos agreed with a chuckle, always so fond of your grumpy behavior that happened from time to time, "To be honest, I'm dying to get into bed," he added, giving a light shoulder pat to Charles. The latter gave him an awkward smile in return.
"Same," you sighed as you slouched in the seat, closing your eyes when Carlos started the car.
You could feel the beginning of a headache coming and it was only the beginning of your unexpected road trip back to Monaco.
Charles, Carlos and you were used to traveling together, but it was the first time a situation like the current one happened to all of you.
“Let me connect Spotify to the car so I can at least entertain us with good music," you muttered, taking your phone out of your jacket's pocket.
“Your tastes are shit,” Carlos countered with a teasing smirk.
“How dare you?”, you played annoyance, offended expression on.
“Am I wrong, though?” Carlos teased you again, giving a look to Charles to ask for his support.
However, the Ferrari driver looked a bit taken aback, as if he wasn’t paying attention to his surroundings. He blinked a few times and eventually settled on a shrug as a simple answer. A reply that surprised Carlos whose brows furrowed. It wasn’t like his friend to be so quiet and not join in your usual banter.
Like a kid, you made a silly face at Carlos, who laughed when seeing your reaction in the rear view, and you decided to put only your favorite songs without asking for their opinion. Before realizing the van was so old, so rubbish, that it didn't even have a modern dashboard.
Great.
But you weren't going to be stopped by that. Volume up to the max on your phone, you browsed into one your playlist.
The first part of the drive was filled with good energy, some singing from your part, and chatters between Carlos and you, he always matched your silly energy, and you both laughed at random topics and some private jokes you had, however Charles was quiet as ever. He didn’t take part in any conversation.
Eventually, the ride became silent only for the soft sound of the music player. You tired out because, as fun as it was, the ride was starting to get long and boring. It looked like the road was endless, you were running out of patience and the way Charles kept on squirming in his seat was starting to get on your nerves the moment you noticed it. Carlos was still focused on the road, showing no sign of sleepiness. Efficient and trustworthy driver behind the wheel of a F1 car and one of a van!
You stared at Charles.
He shifted in his seat once. Twice. Thrice.
At first, you thought his incessant movements were caused by the soreness of his body from sitting for so long. But then your eyes caught on other gestures. The way he squeezed his thighs together, the way his hands hovered awkwardly in his lap, how he bit on his lower lip, on his knuckles.
“What’s wrong with you?” you asked, more harshly than you usually would, frowning.
“Nothing," Charles replied quickly.
You squinted your eyes at him. You noticed the slightly high-pitched tremor in his voice, but decided not to mention it. You didn't have the patience for that right now.
"You're… squirming a lot," Carlos carefully chimed in, "Are you sure everything's fine?"
This time, Charles had a brief moment of hesitation… before shrugging and nodding.
"I'm good."
"Stop moving around then," you ordered in a mutter, slouching back in your seat, crossing your arms over your chest.
Carlos frowned slightly at your reaction, stealing quick looks at Charles who hummed at your words and stopped moving.
For exactly ten seconds before he started squirming again. Bouncing lightly in his seat, slight expression of discomfort on his face.
You let out a loud exasperated sigh and Carlos glanced at you through the rear view. When your gaze met his, you cocked an eyebrow and he blew you a kiss that, at least, made you smile a little.
As Charles curled on himself, hands pressed hard between his legs, before you could open your mouth again, the words came. In a soft, timid, babyish, hushed whisper that made your heart drop and your eyes widen.
“…Potty break…please… ”
Charles' plea came in a voice barely audible, miserable and strained. If you were at a loss of words, Carlos noticed your panic and was fast to take matters into his own hands.
“Alright,” he declared, “We're taking a break.”
He didn't ask for your permission. You wouldn't have complained anyway because the situation wasn't something you could and would go against. No, instead, you stayed quiet, biting your lower lip softly, as guilt settled inside you.
As soon as it was possible Carlos took the next exit on the highway.
You noticed just now that Charles’ cheeks were a bright pink, how his figure, which looked suddenly so small, was shaking from holding it for so long.
Shame and guilt followed you as you stepped out of the van once it was parked, while Carlos opened the passenger door, offering his hand to Charles.
“Let's get you to the bathroom,” Carlos encouraged in a kind voice.
Shame overwhelmed Charles, making him hesitant. He gave you a teary look that broke your heart before he took Carlos’ hand and followed him quickly. As for yourself, a dreadful feeling lodged itself inside your chest because you understood now. Betrayal. That was how it felt to Charles for disobeying your order. Guilt nagged harder on your mind, aggravated by your lack of rest. You were so tired you felt like you could cry. Also, you had underestimated the trust Charles had in you and the power your words had on him. Especially since the day he opened to Carlos and you about his “other side” as he called it, refusing to put a label on it and avoiding the topic.
To the moment he guided Charles to the bathroom to the one where he asked him if he could go alone or needed help, which made Charles blush and quickly shake his head no, Carlos' behavior was soft, caring, concerned. Unlike yours.
While Charles disappeared in the bathroom to take care of his needs, Carlos and you stayed close to the door and patiently waited for him.
You wrapped your arms around yourself and your eyes darted to the tiled floor. Next to you, Carlos was stretching. He actually was grateful for a break because his back was getting sore.
“Do you think I hurt him?
Confusion was Carlos’ first reaction, “What do you mean?”
You gave a light shrug, looking away, “He didn't dare to ask for a break because of what I said. I feel awful,” you admitted in a weak voice.
You didn't let Carlos reply before adding, “I didn't care about his feelings or his needs. Or even yours. I was so selfish and..." you trailed off, your sentence ending in a strained whisper, “What if I broke the trust he has in me when he… when he feels like this?”
It was so confusing to you. For Carlos as well. Your relationship all together was sometimes blurry. Unclear. Adding Charles’ newly discovered regression for both Carlos and you to the mix made the situation even more complicated. The three of you had a lot to settle down to understand the bond that tied you all to each other.
“You're tired,” Carlos eventually told you, soft and caring as always, “You're allowed to make mistakes from time to time.”
You hummed, thinking, not really convinced.
“Except on the track,” he added, “Your qualifications this weekend were really shitty.”
“Shut up, Mister First Podium with Williams,” you laughed and gave him a light smack on the arm.
Carlos smiled, pleased by your reaction which looked way more like your usual personality. His goal to make you loosen up and smile a bit was a success. He always took care of you, always prioritizing you and making you feel better about things.
“You care for Charles. He knows it,” he reassured you.
Your eyes widened when Carlos surprised you with a kiss. Leaning down, getting closer to you, he dropped a light kiss to the corner of your mouth. As much as you enjoyed it, you felt a bit flustered by the sudden display of affection, considering the status of your relationship that was still… to define.
“I know it too,” Carlos whispered.
You could only believe him when he looked at you with such fondness.
Charles finally came out of the bathroom, looking relieved and at ease. At that moment you didn't know how to behave with him. In which headspace he was currently in. You usually counted on Carlos to perceive the signs as he was more observant than you were, your too hot-headed habits sometimes blinding your judgement. Except this time he was as unsure as you were.
You decided to step up. Carlos did what needed to be done when he took care of Charles. Now it was your turn to make up for your bad attitude.
“Monaco awaits us,” you tried to sound cheerful and you held out your hand to Charles.
Beaming, he instantly took it and you made a face at the coldness of his palm that reached yours.
“You better have cleaned those,” you warned, eyes squinted in wariness.
“Clean,” he confirmed with a shy nod.
The softness in his voice gave it away. Still your baby.
Carlos gave you a smile of approval which made you feel a bit better about yourself, even though what happened was still in the back of your mind. With Carlos leading the way, the three of you returned to the van.
You made Charles climb in the back seat with you and made him lay down. Now curled into a ball, looking so small and soft, he nuzzled against you, head resting on your lap as you carefully stroked his hair.
“'m sorry I didn't listen,” Charles shyly spoke up, thumb hovering over his mouth.
“It's not your fault,” you were quick to reassure him, “Don't apologize. I... haven't been paying enough attention to you.”
You hugged him tight.
“I'll do better,” you promised.
Charles looked carefully at your face then, without a word nor a sound, snuggled closer to you. You sighed, holding him close.
"Well,” Carlos commented as he looked at his friend and you both situated in the back, “I guess I've been turned into an Uber for the rest of the drive.”
Cheeky as you were, you poked your tongue at him like a kid, making him laugh.
SUMMARY: After a disastrous qualification, Kimi is missing and, as his caregiver, you're on a mission to find him back as soon as possible... / Set during SPA 2025
FEATURING: caregiver!gn or f!reader/oc & little!kimi antonelli
WORD COUNT: 2.3K
TYPE: sfw age regression | fluff
NOTE: Decided to turn this scrap into a proper story
Beautiful banner was made by the talented @parkerloves <3
Where is he?
It's is the question that is running through your head as you speedwalk around the paddock and shoot quick glances around you, while trying not to look too panicked despite the actual growing worry gnawing inside you.
This is also the very same question everyone in the Mercedes garage has been asking you ever since Kimi got out of the car at the end of the qualifying session. You always have an answer to give whenever the question is launched at you. You are by the young driver's side most of the time and if you aren't, you usually know everything about his whereabouts. Without even having to think, you can give direction to anyone who tries to find the Italian driver or, in the case you weren’t sure, you would straight up give him a call to ask where he was or tell him to join you in a certain spot. Simple as that.
However, today he didn't have his phone with him. He let you hold onto it before the start of the day. The weight of his phone is sagging next to yours in your jacket’s pocket, and for once, as you keep on looking everywhere around the paddock, you have no idea where Kimi went to hide.
“Come on, where are you…” you mutter under your breath.
You try your best to keep away despair from your facial expression. Despite you almost running in the paddock and checking every place, every hidden corner, you’re pretending as much as you are able to that you're calm and composed. You just look like someone who is in a hurry to get somewhere.
The truth is that you’re actually starting to feel dizzy from the worry.
Your caregiver instinct jumped out as soon as you saw Kimi’s teary eyes as he climbed out of the car. You noticed the tremor in his voice, the weak nod he gave to Toto and the engineers around him, his pale cheeks… In a single glance, you knew something was wrong. However you stayed on the side, quiet as ever. You couldn't overstep when Kimi was working with the team. You couldn’t explain having to take care of a very close to drop into littlespace Kimi Antonelli either.
Your caregiver and little relationship with the Italian boy was a secret which had to stay hidden to avoid any complication, especially for Kimi’s beginning career. It wouldn’t get ruined by people who wouldn’t understand that age regression is a safe coping mechanism and nothing else.
This is also why you need to find him before anyone else does.
Quickly.
You check every place you can think of. Without success. You're starting to be desperate.
Kimi couldn't have disappeared at a worse time. The press is waiting for him, as it always happens after each session to get the drivers’ feedback. Of course after such a disastrous quali, journalists are dying to ask him questions. His absence is going to be noticed and it will be even more troublesome to explain the situation.
You’re sure Kimi needs a moment for himself. To process what happened. To forgive himself for his mistakes. To remember that he’s only in his rookie year and the best is yet to come.
If your opinion mattered only, you wouldn’t force him to face the media.
But that’s not the case. As much as you dislike it, it's the team's orders, it’s part of the job.
They are only going to put more pressure on his shoulders, you bitterly think as you make your way to the place where tires are stocked. Your last hope of finding him is there.
Pressure is everywhere in the Formula 1 world, of course, you aren't a stranger to that, but you can’t help but think that this very same pressure is the only thing that has been surrounding Kimi since day one.
The media. The team. The public.
Everyday, all day, everytime.
He was thrown into the thrilling but devastating world of Formula 1 at only 18 years old. He even got a documentary made about his journey from F2 to F1 when no other rookie got that! It’s great to be called a young genius, a prodigy, Lewis Hamilton's successor, and so on, but the reality is different. Harsh. It does not forgive mistakes.
You hate it.
Kimi understood it the same way he would have gotten a good slap right to the face. Unexpected. Sudden. Brutal.
He thought he could forever be good at smiling and pretending, at showing eternal enthusiasm. He always told you he was fine whenever you worried too much to his liking.
And really, it was fine. Until today.
You open the storage room door and, as soon as you hear the tiniest of whimpers, you exhale:
“There you are.”
Finally. You finally found him. Yet, the relief you expected isn’t immediate. Instead, your worry increases twice as much and your heart aches at the sight of Kimi - your baby - curled into a ball, holding his knees tight against his chest, body shaken by sobs.
You quietly close the door behind you, take a few steps inside the room and kneel down in front of him. You do all of this in utter silence, you're careful as to not scare him. You then try to catch his attention as kindly as you can.
“Hey baby,” you whisper in a soothing voice, “I found you.”
Startled by the sound of your voice, Kimi lifts his head up, eyes widening. He hasn't noticed you entering the room or closing the door.
You do your best not to show how painful the view of his wet eyes and his tear-streaked cheeks is to you. You even smile. A soft, reassuring, easy smile that could fool absolutely anyone. That's part of your job. To care, to protect, to put others before anything else you can feel.
Kimi’s breath waver. His lower lips wobble when you open your arms in an inviting embrace.
I'm here, that's all it says and it's enough for more tears to fall.
Kimi launches into your arms, burying his face in the crook of your neck, hiding himself.
“I've got you.” You wrap your arms around him and rub gentle circles on his back with one hand.
“You're okay. I'm here now.”
Kimi cries harder, each sound muffled in your jacket where his face is buried, as he clings harder to you, his grip is iron against your clothes. You hold him tighter, putting your chin on top of his curls. You don’t say a word.
You know your baby by heart. Big emotions need to get out before doing anything else or trying to talk to him. So you wait. You simply wait, never stopping to soothe him by your hand gesture in his back, and you start to slowly rock him, patient as always, until his cries soften into soft sobs while his body is still shaking against yours.
"I- I messed up," Kimi whimpers in a tiny broken voice.
You sigh, “It happens. What’s one missed qualifying session over all the previous ones and the next to come, hm?”
His muffled reply comes out as an ununderstandable babble. You can’t help but snort quietly at his involuntary cuteness.
You kindly pat his back, “You’re allowed to make mistakes, sweetheart.”
Kimi fiercely shakes his head against you as he lets out a little indigned “No!” which sounds more like the mewling of a kitten than anything else.
“I promise you are,” you insist, gentle as ever.
This time, Kimi doesn’t reply. You ease him back to get a good look at his face. He rubs his eyes with both closed fists as you softly caress his hair.
“Everyone… hates me,” Kimi hiccups.
He sniffles loudly and you grab the handkerchief in your pocket - a blue one, embroidered with his name you got made for him.
"No one's mad at you," you reassure him, carefully wiping his nose, “Rough days happen to anyone.”
Kimi tries to pry away from your touch, shaking his head, but a stern look from you makes him behave immediately. You thoroughly clean his nose then his face with another tissue you grab from your pocket. You then pat his cheek, thumb stroking the wet streaks left by the tears.
“Everyone is worried about you in the garage,” you say.
However Kimi shakes his head again.
“Toto…” He starts speaking, sniffles, hiccups, tries again, “Toto disappointed.”
His voice is obviously tainted by sadness.
“He isn't,” you reassure him, “He is looking for you.”
Kimi winces.
“He… he going to scold me.”
There's no one in this paddock beside you who loves the young Italian driver more than Toto. So you don't hesitate as you say, “No, he won't. I promise.”
Kimi doesn't retort and looks quietly at you with watery eyes. You let out a soft sigh and rise to your feet, extending your hand toward the boy.
“Let's get you out of that suit and get you into comfy clothes.”
The moment Kimi grabs your hand to get up, you hope that having a quiet moment with him will ease his mind and make him ready to face the media in a few.
Kimi clings to your hand and you hold it firmly back as you both make your way toward the driver's room. He trails off behind you as you lead the way.
Your phone buzzes in your pocket, catching your attention.
It's a message from Toto.
Found him?
You reply with a short text typed with one hand that you did and tell him to join you in Kimi's room.
Kimi's littlespace is a secret, of course, but not to you and the team principal of Mercedes. You learned to trust him enough to share the secret with him, certain that he wouldn't tell a soul and would accept his young driver without asking a single question, treating him with no differences.
When you finally reach the driver’s room and the door is closed behind you, it's quiet. Safer for your baby who has trouble letting go of your hand, tightening his grip.
“It's okay, sweetheart, it's just you and me now.”
Kimi finally releases your hand and you don't waste a minute. You're working efficiently, unzipping his race suit then removing his shoes. It's like you're taking away the heaviness of the day, you can see him getting more relaxed under your care.
“Good boy,” your murmur as you help him put on his team's t-shirt.
You then guide him to the couch and kneel to tie his sneakers, meanwhile Kimi reaches out for his wolf plushie sitting there.
A knock on the door.
Kimi lifts his head up and looks at the door with wide eyes. His gaze darts from the door to you, back to the door then back to you.
“Not me,” he whines, hiding his face into the plushie, “You open.”
You chuckle softly at how adorable he is, suddenly too scared of opening a door.
“I think someone is here to see you.”
Curious, Kimi tilts his head to the side like a puppy. You're too fond of his reaction.
You walk to the door and open it, inviting Toto into the room. He steps in and Kimi casts his head downward and hugs his plushie tighter against his chest as soon as he sees his team principal. Despite all your kind words, he is still expecting to be scolded.
Toto is hesitant. He wants to be careful so he looks at little Kimi then at you.
“Is he okay?” he asks, unsure.
You make a so-so gesture with your hand, “A bit shaken but if you talk to him, I'm sure he will feel better.”
Toto nods. You're the best at your job. He trusts you entirely.
He lowers himself slowly to one knee in front of the couch so he’s eye-level with Kimi.
“Rough day, huh?” he says kindly.
Kimi glances at you, then quickly back at his own sneakers. You told him earlier that rough days happen to everyone. Now Toto is saying it too.
“Do you know how proud I am of you, Kimi?” Toto asks.
The boy doesn't move an inch nor does he make a sound.
“I'm proud of everything you did so far,” Tot states, “You're doing so good.”
Kimi perks up at that last sentence, giving a shy glance to the man in front of him.
“Nobody is ever going to be mad at you for a few mistakes. What's important is that you're learning and you're a really fast learner.”
Toto gives him a warm smile and keeps going, “One failed session or two won't change anything about what the team or I think about you.”
Slowly, all of Kimi's previous worries became distant memories as tension left his shoulders. You were right: Toto isn't disappointed nor mad at him.
“Can I tell you a secret?” Toto whispers, leaning in.
Kimi likes gossip. Little Kimi loves them. So he instantly nods and leans forward, eyes sparkling with interest, more than curious about the secret he is about to learn.
“Don't tell George,” Toto says, “...but you're my favorite.”
His face brightening all of a sudden, Kimi giggles excitedly.
“I'm the favorite!” he repeats, beaming.
Toto laughs at his reaction.
“Yes, you are,” he confirms with amusement.
Kimi immediately launches himself forward, throwing his arms around Toto’s neck. He nuzzles against him, smiling.
From the side, you're watching. A faint smile tugs your lips upward at the sight. Kimi and his launching hugs… they mean more than words.
Rubbing soft circles on the boy's back, Toto gives you a questioning glance. And you nod to the silent question that yes, he handled the situation perfectly.
That was exactly what Kimi needed.
You are relieved now. The young driver might stay little for a moment or ask you for a lot of cuddles once the day is over, but it's alright. He will be able to face the media if you stay close to him. You know that there are no more bad thoughts in his pretty little head and you feel lighter when you see him smiling.
Kimi is safe. And you are going to make sure it always stays this way.
SUMMARY: After the unexpected Italian road trip, Charles, Carlos and you all end up crashing at Carlos’ place. Charles wakes up needy and who are you to deny your sweet boy what he's asking for...
FEATURING: CS55 × switch!f!reader × sub!CL16
CW: 18+ | SMUT | MMF | MM | MF | piv | ambiguous poly relationship | brief mention of agere | I don't know what to tell you this is basically 5k of filfth with feelings
⚠️ Better to read part 1 before the bonus so the (non-existent) plot makes sense, but if you just want to enjoy the nasty, you can! If you've read part 1 and don't feel like drowning in 18+ content, you can skip this. (Part 3 may eventually happen if motivation stays with me)
Special thanks to @parkerloves for writing the dirty talk and the Spanish bits of dialog (+ the pretty banner as usual) and another big thanks to @spaghettified-pasta1 for beta-reading this! I have the bestest friends ever <3
Another sigh came past your lips as you glanced at the clock again and ruffled your hair in a lazy gesture.
You've been awake for a while, but tiredness was still heavy in your body, considering the Italian road trip the boys and you had to go through during the night. Each one of you was supposed to go back to their own home but Carlos eventually settled on taking all of you to his place because he couldn't wait anymore to be reunited with his bed. It didn't bother you. After all, extra time with your favorite boys in the world was always welcomed.
Carlos had left the bed for a while now. You could have followed him and enjoyed morning time in his company, but the current weight laying on top of you had stopped you from moving.
Charles was curled up against you, using your chest as his personal pillow, one leg over yours and one arm loosely wrapped around your waist.
You still felt guilty for yesterday. What happened was nobody's fault, but still. You disliked your demeanor so much. You had pushed Charles over the edge, to the point he had unconsciously switched to baby voice for you to understand his trouble. Charles barely had this behavior in front of you. He tried to suppress it as best as he could. This made Carlos, who told you about it, suspicious of the fact that Charles didn't like this side of him very much. You didn't know what to think of it actually. What was the trigger for regression? How did it even work? For you, the topic was still too new, too foreign.
To begin with, you didn’t even know what the three of you were to each other! Friends? Friends with… benefits? Maybe. This status didn’t exactly sound right to your ears, but you had no idea how to describe the bond that tied you to Charles and Carlos ever since you made your first steps into the paddock. Your admission into the F1 Academy last year, after so much hard work, changed your life. On so many levels.
The rest of yesterday’s ride went fine. Charles fell asleep on your lap, Carlos and you made quiet idle chat, while you stroked Charles’ hair. Monaco eventually came into sight and here you were now.
Stuck in bed. Fluffy pillows scattered across the large bed. Heavy and soft blanket on you. A delicate, flowery laundry scent surrounded you. You were warm. Comfortable.
Could be worse.
Moreover, it wasn't the first time you ended up in bed with the two F1 drivers. Sure, the first one was under other circumstances, Charles was behaving so bratty it surprised you while Carlos showed you an even more sweet and caring side of himself that you weren't expecting for it to be possible. All of this, what happened between the three of you, what was still happening, what had yet to happen, made everything so confusing. And after such an exhausting trip, you shouldn't be concerning your tired mind with so many questions.
Another sigh. A look toward the sleeping figure nuzzled against you.
Charles looked so adorable, hair messy and cheeks a rosy pink. You were lucky to see such a cute side of the confident Ferrari driver, as well as his cute other side. As much as you were lucky to have Carlos always be so protective of you. Sometimes, it made you wonder what exactly you were adding to the mix. That was, once again, a question for another time.
For now, you carefully leaned in and pressed a soft kiss to Charles’ hair.
“I'm sorry for yesterday…”, you whispered in a deep sigh.
You couldn’t yet forget about the guilt you felt which was still in your mind.
“‘s fine,” Charles replied in a drowsy voice.
“Oh,” you were startled as you were sure he was still asleep, “You’re awake,” you stated in a mumble, a bit embarrassed to have been caught expressing weakness out loud. This was something you didn’t really like to do. It wasn't an attitude to have when you were in a competitive world.
“Been for a while. Too comfy to get out of bed,” Charles sighed as he snuggled even more into your chest, his nose buried in the hollow of your breast. It was as if he was trying to get even closer to you if it was possible.
You were about to complain that he was almost crushing you under his weight, you were even thinking of kindly pushing him away, but he also shifted, pressing his hips against your leg, and something made you keep your mouth shut.
“I think I deserve a proper apology,” Charles commented, sounding suddenly much more awake.
“...Do you?” you asked, wary and suspicious.
He hummed lightly with a nod and lifted his head up. A malicious gleam lightened his face. That cheeky behavior… you knew it very well.
“If you’re really sorry,” Charles started, making a very slow and testing motion of his hips against you, “I’ve got an idea or two on how you can repay me.”
It didn't take a genius to catch on the indirect message he was trying to get across. Mischief took over you as you decided to humor him. If he wanted an apology that much, you weren’t about to deny him.
“You’re right,” you smirked as one of your hands made its way under the cover, “You deserve a good and proper apology from me.”
Charles instantly untangled himself from you the moment your fingers grazed his lower stomach. He gave you space to get into work as he rolled on his back with a naughty teasing smile that made you bite on your lower lip, loving the bratty attitude.
Charles was a mix of so many little things. Sometimes he could get mischievous like right now, some other times his displays of eagerness were the cutest.
“I’m waiting,” Charles sing-songed, a gleam of defiance in his eyes.
“Apology incoming,” you replied in the same voice tone as you sat up.
Your fingers slipped under the elastic of the waistband of his underwear and, with his help, you tugged it all the way down, so only his t-shirt stayed on.
Your mouth took possession of his own, slow and soft, while your hand traveled to where attention was needed, settling between Charles’ legs as they spread for you, inviting you to get into action.
“So cute,” you chuckled, the pad of your fingers giving a feather-like caress to his hard length, before you placed a light kiss on his cheek.
Charles’ reaction was indeed the cutest, as he rubbed his cheek against yours like a kitten, which made you smile with fondness.
“My pretty boy,” you cooed softly, deciding he really deserved that you gave him what he wanted.
You weren’t one for long and teasing foreplay when it came to yourself. But Charles? Oh, for him you would take all the time in the world. Seeing him grow impatient was so entertaining. So amusing. So miserable sometimes. You played naughty, but you also knew how to be full of tenderness for your boy.
“Open them a bit more for me,” you demanded with a honey sugar-coated voice.
Without a protest, Charles opened his legs wider. Just the way you wanted to get your hand even lower in between them.
When you cupped his balls, Charles gasped.
When you put a bit of pressure, his noise came off as a tiny whine.
“That’s it, baby,” you murmured, lips brushing his cheek, “It feels good, right?”
An eager nod was the reply you got, but you tutted with disapproval, squeezing harder, tearing out a strangled pant out of him.
“Words,” you ordered, tone commanding but still soft, “You’re a big boy, Charles, use your words.”
“I need more,” he pleaded.
“Always so obedient,” you laughed lightly before you let go of him. You turned around to grab the bottle of lubricant Carlos always kept in the drawer of the bedside table.
You poured a great quantity of lube on your hand and didn't waste any time to wrap it around Charles’ flushed cock. The mere contact of your skin with his made him tense up. The sound he let out was half a moan half a cry because of your action and the coldness of the lube.
“Please, please,” he whimpered, already begging for something he didn't even know.
He bucked his hips, wanting release as fast as possible, but you weren't about to give it to him so easily. You were the one in control and you reminded him by a light slap to his thigh with your free hand:
“Is someone going to behave already?” you taunted in a low voice, faking annoyance, “Are you going to be good for me, Charles?”
“Yes,” he swore in a desperate sigh, “Yes. I'll be good.”
“Good boy,” you whispered, so pleased by his answer that you dropped a small peck on his mouth. He licked your upper lip, begging for a full kiss that you refused him by backing away and tightening your grip around his erection. He yelped, a cute sound that hit you in all the right spots.
“I’ll take care of you.” You were amused by his reaction, now squeezing around his cock and beginning to move your fist in languorous strokes. A deep inhale from him told you exactly what you needed.
“Way better now, huh?” you purred, smirking, “Look at you, enjoying yourself for me.”
You loved the sight of Charles’ clouded gaze and the pink hue coloring his cheeks. It was breathtaking to see how Charles’ behavior switched from bratty to needy at the heat of pleasure or the promise of it, how quickly he succumbed to the needs. The switch was obvious and you enjoyed it deeply.
“Please, please, faster, please,” Charles begged in a whiny voice.
You chuckled once more. You gazed down to watch the motion of your hand. Charles did the same, he stared down at himself, relishing in the way your hand moved up and down. This was only about him, you knew he was selfish when it came to handjobs, he only came to you when he wanted to get off that way. He never asked Carlos, so you mastered the way to please him. By now you had learned to read him, easily cataloging every moan and shiver and knowing exactly what he wanted from you.
“Oh oui, s’il te plaît,” Charles moaned, pleasure taking over him, eyes squeezed shut, “Thank you, thank you.”
The shudders in his breathing were your indicator that you were doing good, which made you grin. The way he closed his eyes and jerked his hips into your fist as well. It was so easy for you to understand him. To know when he was close to coming.
“That easy, sweetie? Adorable…”
Your strokes became slower, you didn’t want this to end too early, your hand moved slowly from the base to the tip of his length, and he let out a high-pitched noise when you let your hand trail over the pre-come wetted tip.
“I’m sure you can give me more, baby.”
Charles’ cock throbbed with need, even more at the pet name than at the act itself.
“You’re perfect, sweetie, so perfect.” You kept on encouraging him as he rolled his hips in your hand.
So docile. So malleable. So adorable.
The sight of him was enough for you to press your thighs together, heat pooling in your whole body, dampness present between your legs.
It was so easy to break him. To turn into him a needy mess when you knew what buttons to push. He was so sensitive that you could make him cum in a couple of minutes if you wanted to, but where would be the fun?
“Look at that…” you hummed, “We know what's coming, huh?”
So receptive to each one of your words, Charles whined louder and louder.
“So close already?,” you murmured, “So close just by my hand?”
An uncharacteristic giggle came past through your lips the moment Charles tensed up, his thighs shook and you just knew. A few last quick strokes and Charles mewled in bliss as he spilled over your fist, coating your fingers with a load of sticky cum.
A grin took place on your face as the Ferrari driver literally melted in the pillows, ragged breath and chest going up and down so fast, flushed, sweaty and cheeks a dark pink.
“My apology is a total success,” you declared proudly, letting go of his already softening cock.
You gave Charles an insistent look, wiggling your eyebrows, but it took him a few seconds to back down from the dizzying pleasure. The only answer he eventually gave was a rub of his face against you, hiding himself in your shirt.
“So easy to take down men,” you sighed in fake drama as you wiped your hand against the sheets, “One orgasm and they’re done.”
“You know a way to defend yourself in case it’s needed then.”
You couldn’t help but laugh as Carlos, who had made his appearance at the entrance of the bedroom, gave you an unexpected reply. Leaning against the doorframe, arms crossed over his torso, he reveled in the sight of you and Charles in his bed, a sight he would never get tired of.
He joined the both of you on the bed, the mattress dipping under his weight when he sat on the edge. He gave a light caress to his ex-teammate’s milky thigh, back of his hand brushing against the sensitive head of Charles’ cock, earning a little moan from the other driver. Carlos then leaned into your personal space and claimed your lips at the same time he cupped your face with one hand.
“I still hope you won’t do that to too many men…,” Carlos whispered in a tantalizing voice against your mouth.
“Only to Charles,” you promised in a hushed voice, licking your lips, “When he’s being a good boy.”
“He’s always good,” Carlos smiled, now leaning over Charles and kissing him softly, then deeply when Charles instantaneously opened his mouth and laced his arms around Carlos’ neck to bring him closer to him. You smiled when you saw Carlos get on top of Charles to deepen the kiss. Your smile got wider at Charles grinding lightly his hips against Carlos, in the same way he did to you earlier.
“So desperate,” you commented in a mocking tone.
“Someone’s feeling needy,” Carlos chuckled after breaking the kiss, stroking Charles’ hair.
He afterward wrapped a careful and soft hand around Charles’ spent cock, tearing another tiny mewl out of sensitivity from him.
“Maybe he needs an apology from you too,” you shrugged with nonchalance.
“An apology?” Carlos repeated, giving you a confused look, as he let go of Charles.
“Yeah,” Charles finally manifested himself, voice raspy, “Apologize too.”
“Apologize for what?” Carlos protested, “You made us divert the flight yesterday, you are the one who should be apologizing to me.”
Charles made a face, “Do I have to?”
“Yeah, I think you do,” Carlos replied seriously, “You also have to apologize to her.”
Charles frowned while you tilted your head out of confusion.
Carlos sighed, “I bet he didn't take care of you.”
Charles opened his mouth to protest, ready to argue as he always did, but the way you laughed all of a sudden made him stay quiet and pout like a kid, while Carlos grinned at both of your reactions.
“Pretty but selfish,” Carlos commented and patted Charles’ thigh.
“She didn’t ask…” Charles muttered with bad faith, gaze drifting away.
“Really now,” you teased, devilish mode on, “Should I start begging like a certain someone now? Oh oui, touche moi juste là, plus, oui, encore, enco- ah!” Your words were cut short by Charles smacking a pillow straight to your face, knocking you down. You fell on your back in the sheets and turned into a giggling mess as Carlos laughed along with you, more than amused by your exaggerated imitation of Charles’ behavior when too deep into pleasure he mixed up French and English.
“I hate you,” Charles groaned as he buried his face under the weapon that took you down, cheeks burning out of embarrassment.
You kept on laughing, “You’re just mad that my impersonation was extra accurate.”
“You’re cute when you get like that.” Carlos pushed the pillow out of Charles’ face to kiss him again.
At the way their lips locked with each other, it was easy to see the deep bond between them, the trust, the desire and maybe… maybe another kind of feeling. One you were starting to recognize. The one that made your chest swell with warmth. The one that made Carlos forget everything around him to only look at you when you talked. That one that sometimes made Charles reach for your hand while pretending to look the other way. And right now, you were in the front row to witness a display of this very same feeling. The two drivers were in their own world, kiss deepening and turning sloppy. You could see their tongues meet, chase and caress each other’s, Charles’ soft moans became muffled into Carlos’ mouth. You watched your two beautiful boys, thinking you would never get tired of this. Of seeing them together, of having them close to you, of admiring the way they were perfect together.
Breathless, Carlos pulled away from the kiss, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand. Charles licked his swollen lips, a teasing little smirk curling them, cheeks flushed and lashes fluttering. He had this innocent-yet-dangerous look that silently begged for more.
“You’re going to be the death of me,” Carlos whispered, diving back in.
Charles welcomed the second kiss with joy, and this time, as you sat up, you let out a fake desperate complaint, “Here I am, waiting for an apology that is clearly never coming.”
You fake sulked, however you knew victory was yours as Carlos separated himself from Charles with a chuckle and the Ferrari driver nudged your thigh playfully.
“You don’t deserve one," Charles snickered, cheeky grin on, showing his adorable dimples, and you squinted your eyes at him.
“She does, mate,” Carlos countered instantly, always the one jumping to defend you.
“Are you proposing to apologize on his behalf?” you teased.
“Why not. You could try your new defensive technique on me.”
A sly smile appeared on your face, “Careful, mister, it's dangerous," you warned in a low voice.
“I'm willing to take the risk,” Carlos whispered, eyes locked into yours.
You leaned in to kiss him, but he was quicker and closed the distance between you two with haste. His lips were soft and full against yours, tasting faintly of Charles. You let him control this kiss that soon would make you forget everything, while his hands slid over your hips then lifted your shirt to encourage you to remove it. You followed his actions, breaking the kiss for a second to pull off your shirt, revealing your naked breast, before going back to his mouth. You were fast to soon hook your fingers in the waistband of his pants, freeing him, relishing in the discovery there was no underwear underneath.
Never breaking the kiss that started to steal your breath, Carlos gently pushed you down to make you lay next to Charles. The latter rolled on his side and clung to you. He wrapped an arm around your waist as he stared at you in awe. He studied your face, all of your expressions, pink tongue poking out. But you didn’t notice Charles’ adoration. You couldn’t when Carlos was the center of all of your attention. Even when he let go of your lips to trail down kisses all over you, making you shiver with need and envy.
Sprinkling your body with tender, wet kisses, Carlos moved down your neck, lower onto your chest, planting a kiss around a hardened nipple, continuing his slow journey across your body until he reached heaven between your thighs. He grabbed your pants and your panties, then slid them all down to your feet. Your breathing quickened as Carlos moved closer and as you felt fresh air on your heated skin, heightening your arousal and increasing your impatience.
“You’re perfect,” Carlos said with admiration.
His kitten licks as he trailed again kisses from your breast to your mound made you dizzy and you moaned softly the moment he put his head between your thighs.
He worshipped your body at every step. He gently bit the inside of your thighs and planted languid kisses there. Before Carlos, you had never known it could be like this to be worshipped by someone, having them between your legs and meaning what they say.
Then Charles shifted, crawling down to join Carlos between your legs. The dual heat of their breaths against your slick skin made you frown.
“I don’t want you there,” you groaned and yanked Charles away by a fistful of strands of his hair. He moaned instantly at the pain, "Please," he whimpered, "Give me something, anything.”
“Always begging,” you mumbled, stroking the spot which was probably now hurting him.
You pulled him to your face and went for a kiss. You swallowed every desperate noise he made. Charles deserved so much for always being so good, never fighting back and begging so well. However you noticed Carlos had stilled so you broke the kiss, patting Charles’ cheeks as he whined at the loss of contact.
“Don’t,” Charles almost hiccuped, “Don’t leave me.”
“I’m right here,” you reassured him and cradled him to your chest.
He buried his face against you. You stroked his hair and raised an eyebrow at Carlos.
“What are you waiting for?” you asked with sass, “Permission?”
Carlos tilted his head to the side, fully aware of the game you were playing but pretending not to, “Permission for what?”
You bit your lower lip to suppress the mischievous, delighted smile his words brought to your face. You were playing a role, and Carlos was just too good at getting into it.
“Don’t make me give you orders.”
Carlos crawled back to your face level, his dark eyes diving into yours, voice low and reverent, “Maybe I want you to.”
You grinned for real this time, you couldn’t help it, “Fuck me. Now.”
“Your wish is my command, mi princesa.”
The nickname made you melt of sudden impatience. That was truly what you were to Carlos. His princess. His queen. His everything.
More than happy to please and to obey you, Carlos grabbed a condom from the bedside table drawer. He rolled it on his length with such ease that it made you shiver with excitement. Charles lifted his face up and showed the same interest as you in watching carefully over Carlos’ every movement.
The Williams driver then took the lubricant you had left in the middle of the bed. He applied a few strokes to his shaft, applying a generous amount of the clear gel, conscientious and eager to avoid any pain, despite the shiny state of your thighs which showed how ready you were for what was coming.
Carlos took himself in his hand and carefully placed the tip of his cock against your entrance, pressing the tip against your clit, which made you moan.
“Don’t tease,” you complained.
“Perdòn, preciosa.” As an apology, he kissed you deeply before pushing slowly and carefully inside you, situating himself inside your body,
“Sientas tan bien a mi alrededor,” he groaned in a pant while you breathed harder. Your tight heat felt so good around him. He didn’t make a move before being deep inside, taking a minute to let you adjust to the intrusion, even if the instinct to thrust into you without waiting was asking for strong efforts to stay still.
“Good?” Carlos asked after a few minutes.
“Good,” you confirmed in a relaxed sigh with a nod.
Your sign of approval was all he was waiting for before carefully thrusting into you. He began with deliberately slow movements that made your breath waver and sent chills across your skin. You laced your arms around Carlos’ neck, not forgetting about Charles who made the tiniest desperate sound known to mankind, and your thighs clenched instinctively as a response.
Charles ogled shamelessly at where Carlos was now buried inside you, his gaze following each of the back-and-forth movements. The moment you slid your fingers to your slit to rub yourself, Charles moaned quietly, eyes darting between the two of you, drawn by this vision of your body arching and by that one of Carlos' more imposing body above yours.
Carlos's movements inside you were of unprecedented delicacy, hitting exactly the right spot, and they only rekindled Charles's desire, his cock twitching weakly at the sight. Despite his already tired body, he dragged a hand between his legs and started pumping his length. His strokes came into sync with Carlos’ thrusts. Each one of them was making waves of pleasure wash over you. You closed your eyes, focusing deeply on every sensation coursing through your body, on the movements of your own fingers, on what felt good. Heat built so fast inside you, your chest rose and fell rapidly.
“I’m going to…” You shuddered, words trailing off.
With your free hand, you muffled your sound of release, clenching so violently around Carlos that, taken aback, he had to still himself not to finish so suddenly inside you.
In a shudder, your body went limp and you chuckled, the bliss of your orgasm taking over. But you didn’t have much time to recover as an unexpected and wrecked sob surprised you.
“Wanna come too,” Charles begged in a shaky whine, gripping himself harder.
Carlos and you shared an amused glance. Charles was always so greedy.
“You already did,” you remarked, cocking an eyebrow.
Charles gave you a pitiful look and you caved in, denying him something was an almost impossible task.
“You can have him,” you agreed, encouraging Carlos to get out of you.
He pulled out carefully and laid down next to you. You sat up, pulling Charles into a messy kiss. Carlos watched the show with appreciation in his eyes. You both looked so beautiful together. Cute as well. He loved seeing you soften with Charles as much as he loved seeing him turn into a whimpering mess between your hands.
“You can ride him,” you suggested in a whisper, “Would you like that, Charles?”
The Ferrari driver nodded fiercely, “Please.”
After a brief and sweet kiss to his cheek, you gently guided him with hands on his waist to straddle Carlos, pushing him on all four above him. The latter watched you control with delight before he removed the condom despite not having finished inside.
“I won’t last long”, Carlos warned, throwing the plastic on the floor.
You shrugged with a mocking look toward Charles whose body was shaking in anticipation, “That’s fine. He won’t either.”
“You’re mean.”
You poked your tongue at Carlos.
“You love me,” you stated with pride.
At your words, a flicker that said “I do” shone bright in Carlos’ eyes.
“You are really mean,” Charles repeated, sending you a look over his shoulder.
You rolled your eyes as you grabbed the almost empty bottle of lube, “The meanest of them all,” you agreed, “Now, bend down or you’re getting spanked.”
You coated your already wet fingers of your own fluid with lube for the second time today and realized that heavy silence followed your words. You looked up and caught both Charles and Carlos staring at you. It made you stop all movements.
“...It was a joke?” you said, unsure.
Charles buried his face in the hollow of Carlos’s neck and Carlos fake-coughed in his fist.
You sighed, “You're both hopeless.”
You then leaned in, lips brushing Charles’s ear while your gaze locked on Carlos. “But we can talk about it later.”
Charles whimpered quietly at the promise of this discussion, whereas Carlos swallowed so hard you could have almost heard it.
They were going to kill you someday, but you couldn't deny how entertaining they were.
“Hold him, please,” you demanded of Carlos then talked to Charles, “Be good for me and stay still.”
Carlos obeyed without a complaint, grabbing Charles by the waist. Charles whined weakly as you put one hand on his backside, the other sliding lower to find the place where it needed to be. You got into carefully prep Charles, sliding a finger inside his entrance, and he gasped. The moan he let out was gulped down by Carlos kissing him deeply, silencing him. One finger turned into two then three, you took your time and worked with slowness. Carlos still kept on holding Charles steady, his own cock twitching with impatience. When you pulled out your fingers, Charles whined at the loss and gave you a pleading look.
You smiled at him before you took care of rolling a new condom onto Carlos’s cock, making him let out a soft grunt. He loved the sensation of your smaller hand around him. You made Charles lift his hips - he was so pliant - then guided Carlos’ shaft to Charles’ rim. Not wasting any time, Charles sank onto it with a broken moan, dropping himself in one go.
“Easy, love,” you soothed, wincing at hearing the pain in his voice.
Carlos winced as well but for a very different reason, “Joder, estas tan apretado.”
Charles only whimpered at both of your words, a mix of shame and arousal altogether made his cheeks burn.
“He's too impatient,” Carlos sighed.
You agreed with a nod and you laid on your side next to Carlos, appreciating the same point of view he got of Charles who steadied himself by putting his hands on Carlos’ torso and started his up and down motions. Every micro-expression was a treat, from the fluttering of his eyelids, the rising of his chest, his half-hard cock bouncing with every clumsy thrust, to the way his lips parted to let out the cutest moans you had ever heard. He was adorable.
You realized Carlos really got the best view all the time. Your face, your chest, the sight of his cock sinking into you... Really. What a lucky guy.
You let your hand roam across Carlos’ chest, teasing his sensitive spots and twisting a nipple gently. He was already so sensitive and so close, he let out breathy sounds that you couldn't tell if their origin was from Charles’ wild bounces or your soft touch.
Charles looked perfect, bottoming for Carlos, even prettier when he got into riding him, but the thing you loved the most to witness was when he got to top Carlos. It was so messy, so desperate, so clumsy…
Charles could top you too, you knew it even if it wasn't the most pleasurable experience you ever had in your life - not that you would say anything about it not to crush his male ego. To be honest, Charles didn't give as good as he got, but it was fine. You had Carlos to take care of your exact needs while Charles was extremely good at other things.
The memories of his fingers playing deep inside you, curling them just the way you liked it, his thumb circling your clitoris, were enough to make you shiver with need and arousal.
Your fingers found their way back between your legs, sliding over your sensitive and soaked slit.
Charles was a total mess. Tears pooled in the corner of his eyes, his moans got louder, whimpers escaped his mouth with no restraint and no control, his thighs were shaking from the stimulation, and he whined as Carlos lifted his hips to meet his thrust, skin slapping on skin. He moaned at the feeling, gripping Charles’ waist so hard he would leave marks.
“Fuck, Charles, slow down,” Carlos’ voice broke down in a whimper.
“I wanna come, I wanna come,” Charles sobbed.
As soon as you noticed the first tear rolling on Charles’ cheek, you softened and cupped his face, “Then come baby.”
The reaction was immediate, as if you had pushed a button.
Charles collapsed forward, lips crashing on yours. He muffled his cry in your mouth, tearing a moan out of you as it reverberated throughout your whole body, and Carlos squeezed his eyes shut as he spilled deep inside Charles.
At that instant, a symbiosis was created. One that only the three of you reunited were capable of achieving.
Helloo! I have a request about Marco Bezzecchi
Imagine that he won the championship, reader and him are in a secret relationship and due to the emotion he reveals their little secret (reader)! Maybe with a happy ending (ykyk)
Thanks uuuu
CHAMPIONSHIP SECRET
🫒 Characters: MB72 × gn!Aprilia engineer!reader
🪪 fluff
🦊 “happy ending” is only hinted because I didn't know how to add it after the last lines so you get a little bonus at the end as an apology. Hope you like it anon ♡
🩵 Thanks to my favorite helper @parkerloves who helped with the scenario of this fic!
Only two races after the start of the season, people already started to bet on Bez to win the championship.
Today, at the end of the Valencia GP, after a hectic season filled with unpredictable ups and downs, where the title was fiercely contested and the outcome remained uncertain until the very end, Bez proved to everyone that they had been right to believe in him.
You can only be proud of him, you who has seen his efforts throughout the whole season up close as you are one of the engineers working on his side of the garage.
Bez always said that racing was pure fun to him and, as the season went on, he kept saying he wasn’t keeping track of the championship points. He didn’t put more pressure on himself just because he was in the lead or when the gap with Diggia or Pedro - respectively in second and third place - became less with his own score.
Bez has stayed true to his philosophy of life, to his approach of racing, simple and fun, and that is one of Bez’s qualities that you love. One thing among the millions of other things you love about him. One thing out of the millions of reasons you had fallen in love with him not long after you met him during his rookie season.
Fifth seasons later, he has done it.
Bez is a world champion.
His name is soon going to shine next to Marc's own name on the tower of champions.
Every rider has congratulated him for his well-deserved win during the cooldown lap.
The whole team, including you, is waiting for him at the end of his victory lap. Bez is wearing a helmet with a visor that reads “simply the Bez champion in the world” and an Italian flag draped around his shoulders.
When he finally arrives, there is an outburst of joy, shouts, cheers, singing and happiness.
Moved, you join your colleagues around the rider, congratulating your boyfriend while trying not to take him into your arms to shower him with kisses and praise, as he more than deserves at the moment. Your relationship is a secret so you can't show too much closeness with him and you have always been professional about it.
When Bez takes off his helmet, the whole world can see the radiant smile on his face. He is glowing as bright as the sun, truly feeling on top of the world.
This title is a real achievement. You considered yourself lucky to be there to experience it and to have helped for success in some ways through your work on the team but also by being the perfect support for Bez in everyday life. Sometimes he needed a little of your firmness to help him focus and take things seriously. But above all, he needed you as his good luck charm that he always kissed three times before every race.
All the team gather around him while he sits on his bike for the celebratory pictures and you stay a bit on the back.
However Bez looks for you and thinks you are standing too far away from him for his liking. He grabs your wrist and pulls you toward him, wanting to have you as close as possible to him, especially in this very special moment in his career.
You stumble slightly, caught off balance, and end up pressed against his chest. His arms immediately go around your waist to steady you and the moment his gaze meets yours, he forgets about the team, the cameras and the world watching. You're his only focus and he kisses you the moment the first picture is snapped.
It’s not a soft or quick kiss but an open-mouthed kiss, full of love and filled with joy, adrenaline and relief. Something deep and powerful. You can feel it in the way Bez's lips take possession of yours and his tongue eagerly seeks out your own with haste and need.
Wrapping your arms around his shoulders, you smile through the deep kiss, only feeling happier and prouder of your boyfriend.
He has done it. All of his efforts paid off. He deserves it. So, so much.
The team becomes louder around you two. There is clapping but also whistles and a different kind of cheers and sudden realization dawn on Bez as he pulls back.
His eyes widen and his face turns pale when he realizes that he has just kissed his partner - a team member - in front of said team, the cameras, the journalists, the fans…
The secret of you and him dating for now three years is out for the world to see.
All traces of joy vanishing in a second, Bez gives you his most pleading for forgiveness look because he expects you to be angry or shocked… instead he sees a big smile on your face and your sparkly eyes.
He is always so happy, so enthusiastic, that you can't blame him for this little mistake that revealed the true nature of your bond to the team and the fans.
“I can't think of a better day to launch our relationship,” you laugh, delighted and thrilled by the win but also by the fact that your love is no longer hidden.
Aprilia is a family and surely, nobody is going to be against you two dating. The sight of all the smiles around you tells you so.
“You did it today. You really did it,” you praise your boyfriend and caress his cheek with one hand.
Reassured by your words, Bez grins at you.
“We did!” he says and he gives you another kiss but softer this time.
For now, the team, Bez and you have a championship to celebrate until the end of the day and for you and him only, it would probably last long into the night… ♡
⚠️ EXTRA: 18+ | top!Bez x bottom!gn!reader |
The morning following the party to celebrate the world champion title, Bez woke up with as much energy as if he had a ten hour night of sleep instead of two. The excitement and joy from yesterday was still there and even after all the partying, he still couldn't believe the championship was his and, most of all, you were with him but now officially for everyone. Hiding your relationship wasn't easy at all for him. He had the tendency to be a bit too chatty and clingy, but the fact that he got hugs from every member of the team allowed him to embrace you in the garage at every possible opportunity. But he couldn't linger too long or hug you too tightly. All of your interactions had to look professional. But now, he was a world champion and a man proud and happy of his partner that he didn't have to hide anymore.
You were lying on your stomach next to him in the hotel room’s large bed, your eyes still closed, but you were awake. As soon as Bez began to move, you felt the rustling of the sheets and the warmth of his body coming closer to yours.
You were unable to deny him anything, Bez knew it, and he was going to take advantage of it today as an after-party type of celebration.
He propped himself on one elbow and leaned toward you to press a soft kiss to your temple that turned into several others that went to your cheek, your nose, your jaw and lower, until it lent on your shoulder peeking from under the white sheets covering your naked body marked by the activity of the previous night.
You shifted slightly as you felt the kisses grow bolder and move lower in time with the sweet rhythm of the sheets being pulled down, creating a slight trail of shivers on your skin beneath the soft touch of the fabric.
“Bez,” you sighed, voice muffled by the pillow, but it wasn’t a complaint, there was a smile on your lips now, “You’ve got too much energy.”
“Please?” was all he said and this single word was enough for you to turn over, now lying on your back, and to spread your legs to welcome him between your thighs. Understanding the message, Bez wasted no time to sit and move on top of you, positioning himself between your open legs and kissing you, greedily devouring your lips. Your arms went around his shoulders and you pulled him close to you, his chest pressed against yours.
“World champ privilege,” Bez smiled when he broke the kiss to breath, eyes sparkling with excitement.
You chuckled with fondness, “Okay, I’m giving you that.”
His hand slid between your bodies, fingers finding you, teasing your arousal with soft strokes, rubbing and pressing until you were more than ready for him. You could feel his hardness against your thigh.
He reached for the lubricant you two already used the night before to make it easier when he entered you and you always appreciated his thoughtfulness. Bez was a gentle and caring partner, who took good care of you. It showed in everyday life, with all the kind attention he had for you, and even more during intimate moments like this one that was as special as yesterday’s because it was to celebrate the achievement of a lifetime.
Once you were well prepped and loose, Bez grabbed your waist carefully, not too hard, as he slowly pushed inside you, sinking in inch by inch until he was fully in.
The way your tight heat engulfed him instantly drew a moan from him, low and close to a groan, accompanied by your own as you felt him so deep inside you.
He began moving back and forth and as he did, the sound he made shifted. It turned different, louder, higher pitched, desperate. Bez hid his face in the crook of your neck as you held him tighter, panting softly. His thrusts grew in speed but so did his noises, climbing in pitch. The moans became needier, higher, and finally broke into a loud whimper that made both of you pause, Bez's face flushing and a breathy laugh escaping your mouth.
“Didn’t think that the world champion could whimper like that,” you teased, “Make that sound again?"
He whined, embarrassed, and quickly shut you up with a kiss to hide his embarrassment and to muffle your amusement. You laughed into the kiss anyway, your laughter turning into soft moans as he resumed his thrusts and, desperately, tried to stay quiet.
Needless to say, it was a total fail. But he was the world champion, he could totally handle the embarrassment. So it was with a smile and the sound of your sighs of satisfaction and your soft laughter reaching his ears that Bez lost himself in the pleasure of your body.
Summary: After Oscar's DNS at the Australian GP, Lando goes to find his teammate to cheer him up. Oscar is in a really sore mood but Lando has a few tricks up his sleeves to make his little brother smile again.
Type: mild age regression story featuring and hinting at little!Lando & little!Oscar | fluff and comfort
Word count: 1,8K
Note: just a soft short idea I had in mind after the Australian GP ~
Look at this adorable banner my @parkerloves made!!
P5 was a solid debut but not enough for a reigning world champion. Especially with the lack of pace he had during the whole race, Lando wasn't fully satisfied with the outcome of the first Grand Prix of the season but at least he had made it until the end.
Which wasn’t Oscar’s case.
The broadcast showed the other McLaren driver live talking to the journalists, dressed in normal team clothes instead of racing gear. Oscar had put on a brave face for the media but deep down… it was another story. One that Lando could perfectly imagine and that was nagging at his mind during all the debriefing going on post race.
There were a lot of issues to fix on the car, a lot of data to review, so his engineers made the debrief long: they insisted on several points to be improved or discussed. It was only the start of the season, with new regulations and new cars, a lot of adjustments were to be done, but right now Lando felt less interested in all that than in knowing what happened to Oscar during the 58 laps of the race. The Australian driver probably watched it on the tiny screen of his phone. But what his current state of mind was the real concern Lando had. Oscar must have felt awful after his unfortunate crash before the race even started.
So, as soon as the debriefing was over, Lando didn't waste a minute longer in the garage. He bolted out of the meeting room and immediately grabbed his phone. He typed a quirky “wre r u” to which the answer was immediate (“I’m at the hotel”) as if Oscar had been waiting for him to reach out. He probably did, Lando thought, because if it was him in this situation, he would have been waiting for Oscar to find him, to comfort him and distract him with anything to lighten up his mood. And that, that was exactly what Lando was going to do. Oscar was calm, strong willed, in control, but deep down, he could be fragile, small, and maybe right now, he was on the verge of slipping into this soft headspace Lando and he had secretly been sharing for a year now. Being littles together hadn't been easy at first but now, it was obvious.
As Oscar’s self proclaimed big brother, it was Lando’s duty to make him feel better. Because, they were teammates, friends even, and a little bit more than that if their sibling bond meant anything. The first time they regressed together, Lando stated in pure little logic that since he was the oldest, Oscar was going to be his baby brother. The little Australian hadn't complained nor made a single comment at the moment. It was only later on, out of regression, while he was giving Lando a pack of treats that the latter was giving envious side eyes to, that Oscar commented that he could have been Lando’s big brother instead. Lando always used the age excuse to justify being the oldest sibling. “Oldest doesn't mean the wisest”, Oscar had retorted and the pout on Lando’s face was instantaneous, as if he had been truly betrayed.
Anyway. Now, Lando was determined to make Oscar feel better. With this goal set in mind, Lando texted back that he would be there in a few. Oscar only gave him a thumbs up as a reaction. After that, Lando quickly made his way to his driver’s room to get changed, rushing to reunite with Oscar.
The fans weren’t disappointed in him but on his behalf, however, as the local hero for his home race, Oscar was deeply disappointed in himself. He felt like he let everyone down. There was the public, his family, the team… The pressure was different here, in Melbourne, and ever since he climbed out of his destroyed car a few hours earlier, the disappointment was still heavy in his chest. Everyone had high expectations. He had high expectations. All of that for nothing.
Curled on the large bed in the hotel room, knees drawn up against his chest, Oscar let out a shaky sigh, rocking himself a little. He bit on his lower lip, fighting the stinging sensation in his eyes.
What happened was just an incident, a mistake like any other driver could have done, he knew he shouldn’t make a big case out of this, it was too late now, but the pain wouldn't go away. In the back of his mind, his little side couldn’t get past the disappointment and the slight shame he felt.
Oscar hadn’t shed a tear. Kept a straight face in front of the journalists, acted as his usual self. But now, it was complicated.
Oscar's gaze went up to the front door of his room which he had left slightly creaked open after Lando told him that he would be coming.
Bright orange McLaren backpack hanging on one shoulder, Lando slipped inside the room without knocking.
“Hey, Osc, I'm here,” he announced proudly as he closed the door behind him.
Oscar gave Lando a weak nod of acknowledgement, a forced smile, before he sighed once again but quietly, gaze drifting back to the mattress he was sitting on. Lando immediately took in the sight of his teammate: he looked quite miserable. Not that Lando would say it, he wasn’t sure this remark would land well even on a joking tone. Instead he crossed the room and came to kneel next to the bed, dropping his bag close to him on the floor. He propped himself on his elbows on the edge.
“It's okay, mate,” he reassured and carefully patted Oscar's thigh, “Mistakes are allowed.”
Oscar gave half a shrug, with only one shoulder, “I guess,” he said in a low voice.
“Nothing wrong with what happened,” Lando insisted with confidence before adding, “You just wasted your one free pass of the year in the very first race.”
Oscar sighed for the umpteenth time of the day, already tired with his teammate's childish behavior. He was used to it - he usually liked it - but right now, he really wasn't in a great shape to deal with Lando’s teasing.
“I'm not in the mood for your jokes,” Oscar muttered, honest but not mean.
“You like them,” Lando countered.
“Not right now.”
“Yes, you do.”
“You’re annoying.”
“I love you too.”
Oscar raised both eyebrows at that, Lando gave him an angelic smile in return.
“Big brother rights,” Lando simply stated.
Oscar narrowed his eyes. “Yeah. Sure.”
“Anyway,” Lando clapped his hands in front of him, “We don’t like to mop around in this house so…”
He trailed off to grab his backpack. Oscar carefully watched his action and a light frown appeared on his face when Lando opened it and revealed its content: there were colored pencils and markers in every shade and variety, from pastels and classic colors to more unique hues, as well as the motorsports coloring book they owned together. All of this material belonged to the both of them: they had agreed on what they wanted, split the cost, and whenever they decided to regress together, they would take the time to fill a new page of the coloring book.
It was their special activity, calm and grounding, something they both loved and that matched perfectly for both of their personalities while they were in littlespace. It helped Lando settle down, he always had too much energy, and it fitted Oscar's need for stillness and quietness.
Lando flipped through the pages, humming thoughtfully, until he found a drawing that pleased him. It was the SPA circuit one, Oscar’s favorite. They had saved it among two other colorings for last and, despite all the uncolored pages, Lando decided it was the right moment to pull up this one now.
He opened the book wide and turned it toward Oscar while he held it up against his chest.
“Wanna color?” Lando asked.
Oscar shook his head, repressing a new sigh. He immediately understood what Lando was trying to do and felt guilty for what he then said.
“Sorry, I don't feel like it,” Oscar murmured slowly.
“Okay.” That was all Lando said, shrugging. He didn’t argue nor tried to convince Oscar to join him. If the latter didn’t want to do something, Lando wasn’t going to push.
Instead he put the coloring book on the floor, grabbed an orange pencil and started coloring. His pencil strokes were uneven and messy, going outside the lines. Not even a minute in and Oscar already knew the result was going to look horrendous. He couldn't stop himself from making a comment because, despite not wanting to join, his attention was still on his teammate who was coloring while he was on all four on the floor, happy and carefree.
“You're terrible at art.”
“So are you,” Lando retorted without even lifting his head up, focused on his task.
Oscar couldn’t exactly deny it. But he still had better taste than Lando who switched his orange pencil for a pink one.
“It would be ugly if you colored with me anyway.” Lango shrugged nonchalantly.
“Well. You don’t need me for everything you do to be ugly.”
This time, Lando was speechless. He gave Oscar an offended look of betrayal, lips parted in shock. He froze in such a comical way that Oscar couldn’t stop himself.
An adorable giggle of mischief escaped him.
A big grin bloomed on Lando's face when he heard the clear and soft sound which felt like a win. Without even addressing the issue of the day, he could feel Oscar’s sore mood was slowly fading away, because he successfully brought his attention to something else, even if it had to be his awful coloring skills.
Oscar slowly got off the bed and joined Lando on the floor. He carefully picked a red pencil and began to color the striped areas around the track. Lando gave him an hopeful look. Under the attention, cheeks turning pink, Oscar gave a light shrug.
“Can’t let you keep on ruining the best coloring in the book,” he murmured.
Lando’s chest was instantly filled with warmth. He launched himself forward on Oscar. The Australian let out a startled little yelp as Lando’s arms wrapped firmly around him, pulling him into a tight embrace. Oscar found himself crushed into the hug and his face was squished against Lando’s chest.
“My baby brother!” the British boy beamed in a high pitched voice.
He felt the proudest. He succeeded in making Oscar loosen up and finally obtained a smile out of him. It was a real victory!
“It's just the start, you know,” Lando said as he loosened the hug just enough to look at Oscar, still grinning, “Next time, we’ll be on the podium together.”
“…Like last year?” Oscar asked, unsure and quiet.
Lando nodded happily, eyes sparkling, “Like last year! Promise!”
Oscar pondered for a few seconds then gave Lando a soft and shy smile, returning the hug and hiding his face into the soft fabric of Lando’s hoodie.
“Promise…” he repeated in a small but hopeful whisper.
FEATURING: cat!marc marquez x owner!valentino rossi
WORD COUNT: ~850 words
TYPE: cat play | soft 18+ content
NOTE: This is a surprise post for @spaghettified-pasta1 as a thank you for... idk? Being my friend? No need to always have a reason to give a gift to someone, no? Ily that's all!
Big thanks to Parker for the banner 💙
Marc is cat coded.
It’s in his behavior. It’s in the way he moves with hushed steps, unnoticed until he wants to be. The sparkle shining in his eyes means trouble as much as it means innocence. His smiles are as mischievous as they are adorable. His attitude on track is the same one as a hunting cat: he emerges from the shadows and pounces on his prey at any moment, playful yet fierce.
There is also his way of smiling when journalists ask him tricky questions or when someone makes a joke. Everything about him is cat-like. Marc is also deeply entertaining to watch, in the same way that a cat can be, just by living, by moving in a room, catching everyone's attention with the slightest of his graceful movements, a long stretch, a small noise, or because of a sudden little display of excitement as something fun happens.
Marc looks like a cat also.
His soft brown hair has a silky look that makes you want to do only one thing: run your hand through his short locks to make him purr with pleasure under caresses and scratches.
Since Marc had made his first steps into MotoGP, Vale would watch him. He would find himself staring. He contemplates Marc on the track as much as he admires him when he walks around the paddock, talks to other riders, smiling and sometimes giggling, soft and adorable, an aura of mischievous innocence surrounding him. Marc orbited around everyone, like a cat demanding to be petted or begging for food even though he had already been fed.
There was just something fascinating about Marc. It was that feline like attitude. And it had attracted Valentino to the young Spaniard from day one.
There are two versions of cat Marc that Valentino observed: outdoor cat and indoor cat.
His favorite is by far the indoor one. When Marc snuggles against him on the couch or in bed, seeking to merge their two bodies, seeking his body heat, clutching Valentino’s sweater and burying his face in the latter’s chest, demanding caresses again and again, insatiable for contact and closeness.
Wherever Vale is sitting, whether busy or not, Marc settles on his lap without asking. He just does it naturally as if his lap belonged to him.
It’s a race weekend, it’s dark outside and, as usual, Marc sneaked out of his own motorhome to join the Italian in his. Their private secluded place, their meeting spot, a peaceful haven away from the competition where fictive cat tails wag from side to side and whiskers quiver with impatience.
Valentino is sitting on the bed, back against the headboard, wearing an old attire that he knows his cat loves because of how soft it is when he comes for cuddles.
Without making a sound, Marc comes out of the bathroom, wearing an oversized Yamaha sweater that belongs to Valentino. The sleeves are so large that they form perfect sweater paws above his hands.
Marc crawls on all four on the small bed, approaching carefully, discreet as a cat.
Valentino grins and pats his lap, “Come here.”
Quiet as ever, Marc straddles the older man's lap, his legs on either side of his, and, without a word, he rubs his face against his collarbone. He noses at his jaw, hands gripping his sweater, nuzzling, cuddling, claiming him like a cat.
Marc is hard against him, Vale can feel it. The hardness, the warmth, everything is familiar and delicate. Marc rolls his hips in a slow drag. It’s a soft grinding motion, a part of the play, of slow intimacy and trust. He shows what he feels through acts, not words. He never meows.
One of Valentino's hands reaches Marc's back, travelling down his spine to his buttocks, resting there possessively but never gripping or being rough, just for the warmth of his palm passing through the thin fabric of Marc's jogging trousers.
From his free hand, Valentino goes from soft pets on Marc’s head to light scratches on his chin, Marc's lips part at that and his eyes close. The younger rider let out a low and soft noise from the back of his throat, a display of appreciation, close to a purr.
“I should get you a collar maybe, no?”
Valentino smiles with fondness at the approval he receives by the way Marc pushes his hips harder onto his, letting out tiny contentments noises. The Spaniard rocks against him, small and lazy movements mostly made for comfort rather than to search for heat or pleasure. Vale's hands go on his hips, not to guide the motion but to accompany it.
“My pretty kitten,” Valentino whispers.
He leans in and presses a kiss to the corner of Marc's mouth.
Marc makes a loud happy noise this time then curls against the Italian rider, resting his head where his heart is.
Marc is not just a cat.
He is Vale’s cat.
His kitten.
His precious little one that Valentino would never give up on.
SUMMARY: Fabio and you are now a young married couple! The excitement and the joy of the day lead to many kisses and so much more...
FEATURING: Fabio Quartararo x f!reader
CW: 🔞 | SMUT | pwp with feelings | masturbation I guess? fingering but without the fingers inside? helpme I don't know | reader is the one receiving anyway | squirting
♡ This is written for and dedicated to @parkerloves ♡
♧ Fic based on a proposal aesthetic Parker made, my inspiration comes from there so credits to her! Same as usual, banner credits also go to her (look how pretty it is???)
It's 5AM when Fabio and you come back to the hotel, hand in hand, laughing, beaming, exhilarated by the post-joy bliss of a wonderful day.
The brightest day of your life actually.
The happiest of them all.
It was a day that felt like a dream.
In the secluded place of the elevator that is taking you to your room, you cup Fabio's face with both of your hands, guiding your tongue against his, taking the lead of a breathtaking kiss.
Everything happened so fast.
You remember perfectly the day that brought you to today. As the memory surges in your mind, you revive every sensation. During vacation in Australia, on the beach, surrounded by salty air, soft wind and warm sun kissing your skin, toes curling in the wet sand as soft waves came splashing against your ankles, Fabio offered you what was about to become one of the most precious gifts you had ever received in your entire life.
A gift with a deep meaning.
A gift that held a promise of love.
A gorgeous golden ring.
After months that passed like a couple of days to you, overwhelmed by all the preparation surrounding the wedding, you were soon standing in a beautiful white dress on the very same beach Fabio had proposed. Rays of sunshine sparkling on the water. Warmth. Vows. Surrounded by your family, his and all of your friends, you had faced the man your heart chose to devote itself to for the rest of your life.
The wedding had been perfect in every aspect. The ceremony had been a living dream, more beautiful than everything you could have ever imagined. What also made it so perfect was your husband. Him. Fabio.
Dressed in that outstanding and elegant black tuxedo. Eyes sparkling. Love and fondness, pride and joy, gleaming all over his face as you walked down the crafted aisle in the sand to join him. It was a perfect day to tie your life to your one and only. The one you can now call your husband. The one to whom you vowed love and fidelity. The one to whom your heart will never stop beating.
The elevator trip that takes you back to the 8th floor of the hotel seems to drag forever as your mouth works over Fabio’s, wet sounds filling the tight space. Fabio has got you pinned against the mirror part of the elevator. His hands are on your waist, holding you firmly, while one of your own hands rests on his back, the other is on the back of his neck, to deepen the messy and sloppy kiss you are sharing.
Eyes closed, you lose yourself to the heat of the moment. Your focus is only on the movement of your husband’s lips against yours. You’re showing as much eagerness as him through the kiss. You barely break it, even to breathe, adrenaline rush from the day and the party still running in your body. You smile as one of Fabio's hands sneaks down to your thigh, where your dress is elegantly slit, the pad of his fingers brushing against your skin. Despite the warmth of it, a shiver courses through you and it makes you smile, leading you to break the kiss, lips swollen and shiny with saliva, your gaze locking into your husband’s that is darkened by desire.
“I finally get you all for myself,” Fabio groans against your cheek as he pampers you with kisses, “You don’t know how much I’ve waited for the day to end.”
You chuckle, roaming your hands in his hair, a glint of mischief is obvious in your voice as you speak, “Are you saying you were desperate to get out of your own wedding?”
“I’ve been thinking of removing that dress all day long,” Fabio admits while making a face that tears another laugh out of you and that’s partly admitting guilt.
“I like my dress,” you hum thoughtfully, pout forming on your lips, and a sparkle of malice shines in your eyes, “I will keep it on and even sleep with it.”
“Here I was hoping to see the sexy lingerie you’ve got under, it’s a shame,” Fabio fake sighs, delving into your playful side.
You can’t help but laugh again. Your life with Fabio is always like this. Silly banters, laughter everytime anytime, smiles and jokes… There is some downside of course. You can’t forget them. You have your flaws, he has his own… but today is not the day to focus on that. Today, your head feels light, your mind is filled only with joy and happiness.
“Maybe I don’t have anything under,” you tease with a playful smirk.
Fabio doesn’t have time for a witty comeback as the soft “ting!” of the elevator takes you back to reality. Your feet hurt from all the dancing and jumping around you did all day and all night during the after party. Your make-up fell because of sweat and yet you radiate. Fabio finds you gorgeous as ever.
After that eventful day, after the laughter, the clapping, the music, all the dancing, the happy tears, the smile, the congratulations… you can finally reunite. Just him and you, in your own bubble. Finally, you find each other again in the privacy of your hotel room.
The suite is a large room decorated with fancy furniture. On one side is the bedroom and a bathroom, and on the other, past the entrance, is the living room with a splendid vintage sofa.
Shiny moonlight filters through the gigantic bay window, which offers a direct view of the sparkling sea in the distance. The white glow of the night sky illuminates the room as if it was daytime, and the sound of distant waves drifts in through the slightly open window.
As soon as the door is closed behind him, Fabio is back to be all over you, hungry for your touch, hungry for your kisses. He had never been able to stay away from you for long since the day you started this relationship that brought you eventually to a wedding day. But tonight, each new kiss has a new taste.
He's not only kissing you.
He's kissing his wife.
Miss Quartararo.
You smile against Fabio’s lips as he carefully pushes you across the room, trying not to step on your dress. You think he is not so discreetly guiding you to the bedroom, but instead…
“Fabio? What the-”
Your husband surprises you by spinning you around and pulling you down with him on the couch. The abrupt action tears a little yelp out of you as you lose your balance and fall onto his lap, laughing uncontrollably, your laughter quickly muffled by his lips against yours.
Your back pressed to his chest, you lean down to give him better access to your mouth, a soft moan surging from your throat.
Here you are, back to the endless kissing.
Your body melts against the steadiness of his, of his solid chest, as one of his hands comes to rest on your chest whereas the other lays on your thigh.
“You're crazy,” you giggle as you break the kiss to catch some breath.
“Fou de toi, crazy about you,” Fabio retorts immediately with a cheeky grin.
You snort at the cliché of his reply, “Cheesy,” you mock with a playful jab of your elbow in his stomach.
“Cheesy, perhaps,” he admits as he drops a kiss to your cheek again, “But very true.”
Your heart does a little jump. Heat swarms your chest and your cheeks. Fabio has always been a romantic. He has proved it to you so many times. As much as you make fun of him for his cheesiness and sometimes awkwardness, you can't deny that you love it. You love the fondness in his eyes. You love the way he looks at you. You love how he complains about the least of things - such a French behavior. You love how he's so passionate. So diligent. Ready to do anything for you.
And you hope - you hope so much - as you link your lips back to his, that you bring him the same joy he brought to your life.
This new kiss is softer, slower. Fabio traces absentminded circles on your bare skin, making you shiver through the kiss.
There's desire but so much more love.
You may be focused on the feelings of his tongue against yours, you don't miss the sneaky movement of his hand going higher on your thigh, his fingers brushing against the lace of your lingerie.
“There’s something hiding under this dress finally,” Fabio smirks.
You glance over your shoulder, teasing, “You can’t see anything from there though.”
You gasp before laughing again when, without a beat of hesitation Fabio hooks his fingers in the waistband of the thin fabric.
“Lift your pretty butt up,” he demands.
“I’m in a good mood,” you tease, “I’ll help.”
And you do, as you lift yourself up slightly, giving him space to roll off your underwear to your mid-thigh, letting the fresh air of the room hit your sensitive area. Fabio peels them down to your thighs until they reach your ankles. You lift one leg, then the other, kicking off your heels in the process as he finally eases the panties free.
“Now, I can see them,” he says as he holds them up like a trophy, grinning.
“Pretty?” you ask in a small laugh, “Did I choose well?”
“Yeah,” he sighs, “But I like you better without them.” His mouth finds yours again and you wonder if he will ever get tired of this. Nonetheless you indulge him, especially now that he has discarded your underwear on the floor and his hand is quick to go back on the crease where hip meet thigh. You rest your own hand on top of his, in a light touch, accompanying its movements.
He doesn't touch between your legs right away. Instead, he traces the outline of your intimacy first, his fingers grazing through the soft curl of your bush, teasing the sensitive skin around. Two of his fingers trace the path of your slit. His touch is so delicate, it sends chills down your spine and makes you unconsciously arch your back. Fabio feels your body tensing against his, a little smirk making its way on his face. His index and his middle finger go up and down against your opening in a soft caress.
It’s a light rubbing motion which isn’t enough.
Light rubbing motion that makes you crave for more.
You want his fingers to apply pressure, you want them to open your folds, you want them inside you.
Your thighs are getting slick with arousal. Your nipples harden under the soft fabric of your dress. Heat builds in your lower stomach, your body begging for more, your brain focusing only on the pulsing point between your legs.
Fabio draws large circles around your sensitive spot, the circles getting smaller each time, close, very close, but never properly touching. He smiles as you squirm and let out a broken sigh.
“Come on,” you pant in breathy laughter, “Are you going to do something?”
You know him. Very well, you could say. You know he can be a tease. He likes to torture you, to make you wait, it’s his own revenge for all the time you turn him into a whimpering mess under your careful deadly touches.
“Do you have something in mind?” Fabio asks, faking surprise.
A low chuckle comes from you. Oh, this little piece of shit. He’s taking advantage of the situation. You note in a corner of your mind to make him pay for that, with twice as much teasing as you usually do, next time you have your hand wrapped around his length.
“You know very well what’s in my mind,” you sigh, melting against his chest, “Don’t you think your wife should get things without having to ask?”
You give him a look full of mischief over your shoulder and he laughs, amused at your playfulness. He knows he can’t tease you too much, you will always have the upper-hand.
“You’re right and as your husband, it’s my duty to fulfill all your needs…”
“Exactly,” you nod as you close your eyes and let your head fall back onto his shoulder, full weight sagging and settling against him.
“... But perhaps, I need you to remind me how to satisfy my wife.”
Your eyes snap open wide. Offended by his audacity, you give him an astonished look.
“On n’est jamais mieux servi que par soi-même,” Nobody does it better than yourself to yourself Fabio counters with a sly smile.
“I hate you,” you groan as your hand dives between your legs.
As soon as your fingers brush against your clitoris, you bite your lip, relishing in the sensation of finally getting what you want even if it’s by your own touch.
“Watch and learn,” you command, grinning, “You’ve got an exam right after that.”
Fabio grins back at you, “Sure Ma’am.”
You give him a little peck before trying to focus on the feeling of your fingers moving against yourself. You steady your breath, you shift your mind to concentrate on the pleasure, accentuated by Fabio’s lustful gaze on every motion you make. The wet noise is the only sound you hear beside his breathing into your ears, and you grin harder as you feel Fabio’s arousal now starting to press on your lower back.
That's what keeps you going. The hunger in his eyes, the flicker of his gaze to your fingers then to your face, while he licks his own lips at the sight of yours half-open. Your breathing is slowing, deepening, fragile too, wavering as waves of pleasure rise and rise within you.
“Tu étais la plus belle aujourd'hui et tu l’es encore plus maintenant.” You were the prettiest today and you’re even more right now.
Fabio whispers sweet French words into your ears, sometimes you understand, sometimes you don't. The tickle of his breath on the back of your neck gives you goosebumps, intensifying the sensation you're feeling as you rub yourself faster. Your climax is getting so close you can only focus on it and on the low buzzing sound of his voice deep in your ears.
As you work over yourself, Fabio trails kisses down your chin to your neck, sucking and nipping at the skin until it breaks, forming a bruise that will eventually turn a dark shade and that you will have trouble to hide. But it’s a problem for later. For now, you don't know if you're moaning from the way his hands massage your breast over your dress or at the way your now flat palm rubs against your clit. Harder and harder, your movements get faster as you feel yourself coming closer to the edge.
Fabio lets out a deep sigh, "T’épouser est la meilleure décision que j’ai prise de toute ma vie." Marrying you was the best decision I could ever make.
The affection in his voice takes you there, the orgasm ripping through you in a wave of incandescent heat that spreads throughout your whole body, which tenses and relaxes as soon as the electric shock of pleasure subsides, so sudden and delightful that it leaves you panting, slightly sweaty, as you wipe your sticky fingers on Fabio's tuxedo pants.
“Don't wipe yourself on me”, he instantly complains, pouting like a kid.
You slump against him, a soft giggle coming out of you, “Easier to clean there than on my pretty white dress.”
It doesn’t take you long to recover your energy, a spark of mischief quickly lights up your eyes, “Ready for your exam now?”
Fabio nods, earnest, "More than ready."
Biting your lower lip, you try not to show how eager and excited you are for this. Taking care of yourself is a thing, having Fabio’s skilled fingers working over you is another. It’s so much better when he does it and you won’t say out loud how much you love his touch. How much you crave it.
That’s why you won’t say no to a second orgasm especially under his care. At the contact of his slender fingers reaching between your legs, you hiss at how sensitive it feels. It’s so different when it comes from him. It sparks up your arousal again. Moans are fast to come out of you.
It’s like a show. Everything happens in the same way the wedding day happened.
First is the entry…
“You're beautiful,” Fabio murmurs, pressing a light kiss on your cheek, distracting you for a single second of his fingers slowly opening your folds to give himself space.
You shudder with a long exhale as his fingers graze and gently tap on your clitoris. Feather touches, delicacy… soft teasing and slow build-up. Fabio plays with the rhythm and the speed, going slower or faster, testing each one of your reactions, listening to your soft pants and your wavering breath every time he touches you in your most preferred way. He always listens to you. He always knows how to please you, taking into account each one of your littles quirks, in daily life as in your sexual life.
Pleasure this time feels like a sting to your core. Your walls are fluttering in sheer need, your thighs are getting shaky already, you’re quivering. The intensity of the orgasm is building inside you with each new touch from Fabio.
…Then comes the build-up…
“I’m lucky to have married such a pretty girl.”
His pace changes. His method does, as well. His fingers now stroke you through up-and-down or side-to-side motion, changing directions until your mouth falls open in silent moans, your hands are now clutching at your dress as an expression of your pleasure. Fabio is torturing you, by always increasing and declining the tempo. You never know what to expect and your breath becomes even more ragged with each new surprise.
“Fabio…”, you whimper in a broken voice.
The lust that resonates in your vocal cords goes straight to his dick. You feel it twitching slightly behind you, poking harder at your lower back.
“Doing my best to get a good grade,” Fabio chuckles.
“You’re doing amazing so far,” you pant, smiling, “Continue comme ça.” Keep going
“I love when you use French on me,” he admits and you’ve got proof of it by the way he presses his hips into your body and he pushes his fingers harder against you, his pace going way faster now.
“Fabio, Fabio, Fabio…”, you chant.
…Climax blooms…
Your orgasm is twice as powerful as the first one you already had. It takes you by surprise. It takes your breath away, it's as sudden as a blow. It’s so violent that you feel it throughout your entire body. You moan, and your thighs automatically close around Fabio's hand, which continues to caress you again and again, crossing the line from pleasure to searing, burning, delicious pain.
It’s wet too. Messy even. Your release spills over his fingers, in an uncontrollable forceful unexpected stream of watery clear fluid, soaking the couch beneath.
Fabio looks at his damp hands for a second…
“No, don’t do that!” you exclaim.
Too late, he’s wiping his hand on your dress, as a pure act of revenge. The cheeky grin he gives you makes you scrunch your face in disgust.
“My dress is now ruined forever,” you sigh loudly in fake despair.
“It’s not like you’re ever going to wear it again,” Fabio teases you.
“Well… you’re not wrong,” you laugh lightly.
You still laugh in the hundredth kiss of the day he claims today.
…and, finally, sweet finale.
“How d’you rate my exam by the way?” Fabio asks, breaking the kiss.
“20 out of 20.” You give your approval with a bright and dazzling smile.
At this instant, Fabio realizes how much he will never get tired of your eyes turning into moon crescent whenever you smile. How you beam and the whole room around you gets illuminated. How you always laugh so easily. How you’re cheerful. A ball of energy and cheekiness. You’re everything he has ever wished for.
“Je vous aime, Madame Quartararo,” he whispers against your lips.
You grin, “Je t’aime encore plus.” I love you even more
He kisses you again. This time, it’s tender. Overloaded with care and deep feelings. It’s a reminder of promised love.
🐾The type of kitten who pretends they're independent and can stay on their own but will crawl into your lap as soon as you look away from him to get back all of your attention.
Owns a calico cat plushie that he is taking everywhere when pet-regressing and he always sleeps with it between his arms for naps!
🐾Pale blue collar with a little bell around his neck at all times!!! It helps him feel tiny.
Sweater paws are mandatory.
🐾Tends to steal your belongings (that sweater is yours? You mean was, now it belongs to him and don’t even try to take it back)
Melts under soft scratches in his hair: can’t purr obviously, but he makes those tiny happy sounds to show you his appreciation.
🐾Pets and headpats lover → Always begging for them until you give in. will hide his face into your side while you pet him.
He just loves rubbing his cheek against yours, as a way to ask for pets or for you to play with him, or even to wake you up in the morning.
🐾Playfully bites you and sometimes ends up accidentally hurting you. He will lick the spot as an apology to ease the pain.
Leaving him alone? At your own risk! It results in him sulking. He will pretend you don't exist. You will have to get forgiven!
🐾Sudden peak of energy! He will be extra active, always nagging you to play with him, but the next minutes he’s curled into a ball and ready to nap for half the day.
Loves to nap rolled up in a blanket. Soft cozy little kitty!
🐾Also your lap is his favorite napping spot.
Sunbathes? Yes.
🐾Sometimes gives you the side eye if you try to get him to play but after two minutes he's having fun playing wrestle with you.
Loves being called a good kitten ♡
🐾Sits on your lap at any moment. will refuse to stand up if you have to do something. will pout and sulk if you still make him move. Don't even try to get him back sitting on your lap afterward. It was betrayal, now he will just turn his back to you until he's done pouting!
The remote on the couch? He's definitely knocking it down. Same goes for the potted plant over there. You must always have an eye on him, he can be up to some mischief.
🐾If you meow at him, he will definitely meow back.
Conclusion: he's just a cute little kitty.
Credits to @parkerloves 🩵 for the moodboard 🐈⬛
H E L L O 🐾 K I T T Y
[kitten regressor!Fermin x Alex]
The soft tinkling of a bell is what tore Alex from his sleep that morning.
It was a light, gentle and crystal-clear sound which was very familiar to him. There was also the soft sound of claws on the floor, no doubt Stitch and Shira taking advantage of the door being open to sneak into the room.
Alex pretended not to hear anything, feigning sleep, while a discreet figure moved silently across the bed, rustling the sheets as it passed.
Fermin stopped on all fours above him, his eyes sparkling with mischief. Alex did his best to suppress his smile as the younger’s cheek touched his, warm and soft. Delicately at first, timidly too, before the movement became more pronounced, more insistent, and the little sound of the bell became more repetitive.
I want attention. Wake up. I’m hungry. Come on. I want cuddles!
Alex had a hard time not showing how amused he was. Each headbutt was like a message that he no longer had any trouble deciphering since he learned to recognize them.
Fermin let out a little high-pitched yelp when Alex suddenly wrapped his arms around his waist, pulling him close, laughing, then kissed his neck, just above the pale blue collar that was around it.
“Morning, Kitten,” Alex whispered tenderly, and a spark of happiness instantly lit up Fermin’s face, matching the big smile that spread across it.
Fermin immediately purred in response and dropped all of his weight on Alex, surprising him at the action. The younger got back to show all of his affection for him: he rubbed his face against Alex's jaw, cuddled him, and wriggled happily, his invisible tail beating the air, as his thumb slipped between his lips.
At the foot of the bed, Stitch and Shira began to bark happily, each wagging their tails, excited to see their owner finally awake.
Alex laughed at their reaction, hugging Fermin closer to him.
“Yes, yes, breakfast is coming,” he said with a fake sigh of despair, but full of tenderness, as he stroked Fermin's hair.
Stitch and Shira were even more excited, while Fermin meowed enthusiastically at the idea of getting some food in his tummy.
Alex loved mornings like this, surrounded by his dogs and his adorable kitten.
