୨ৎ : featuring : max verstappen, lewis hamilton, george russell, carlos sainz, charles leclerc, lando norris, oscar piastri (click here for part two)
୨ৎ : synopsis (requested by anon) : your f1!boyfriend reacting to you showing him two strings as a bathing suit (tiktok trend - click for reference)
ᡣ𐭩 a/n : a rare wednesday post that isn't a solo story !! also i will be putting a pause on request bc my inbox is flooded, but once i have released a majority of the stories (within the next few weeks everyday there will be a new post in honor of 10k) they will open up again ty guys so much for the support <3
ʚ・max verstappen
“max,” you called from the bathroom, biting your lip to keep from laughing. “don’t freak out.”
he barely looked up from his phone. “that’s the worst way to start a sentence.”
you stepped out, deadpan. wearing… if you could even call it that… a “swimsuit” made of two threads, three knots, and maybe half a square inch of material. total. it looked like it was crocheted by a sleep-deprived spider. you posed with a straight face.
max blinked. then blinked again, slower.
“no,” he said, setting his phone down with almost religious care. “absolutely not.”
“what do you mean?” you said, fighting to keep a straight face. “it’s trendy. minimalist.”
“that’s not minimalist. that’s missing.”
you twirled, the strings shifting dangerously. “it’s high fashion.”
max stood up like he was about to perform an exorcism. “that’s not fashion. that’s barely science. you could sneeze and the whole thing would combust.”
“i think it’s cute.”
“i think it’s… illegal.”
you walked over slowly. he didn’t move, just looked absolutely offended by the garment clinging to your body with the hope and optimism of dental floss. “so… i can’t wear it on the yacht?”
he stared at you, stunned. “if you wear that on the yacht, i’m jumping into the ocean and letting nature take me.”
you burst out laughing, and he immediately buried his face in his hands. “who sold you that? who allowed this to exist?”
“i made it myself.”
his head snapped up in horror. “what.”
“yarn. patience. emotional damage.”
max grabbed the nearest towel and threw it around your shoulders like he was shielding your soul. “you need help. professional help.”
you leaned in, still grinning. “so that’s a no?”
he groaned. “i love you. but you’re grounded.”
ʚ・lewis hamilton
you stepped out slowly. wearing… well, calling it a swimsuit would be legally questionable. two strings of yarn tied together with the optimism of a third-grader’s friendship bracelet. honestly, it looked like you raided a kindergarten art bin and called it couture.
lewis lowered his sunglasses.
paused.
stared.
“be honest,” he said, slowly standing up. “did you lose a bet? or is this, like, a charity stunt i don’t know about?”
you fought to keep a straight face. “it’s my new swimsuit. do you like it?”
“do i like it?” he walked in a slow circle around you, studying it like a museum exhibit. “you look like someone gave a hamster a crochet hook and no supervision.”
“be serious.”
“oh, i am.” he waved a hand at the barely-there strings. “you’re out here dressed like a cursed macramé project.”
you pouted. “it’s artistic.”
“it’s traumatic.”
you posed dramatically. “but imagine this on the beach… champagne… sun setting…”
“yeah, and a full-blown scandal.” he crossed his arms. “you’re gonna flash everyone.”
you smirked. “so you’re saying it’s a little much?”
“i’m saying it’s one wardrobe malfunction away from me throwing my entire body over yours like a security guard.”
you grinned, stepping closer. “but you’d still let me wear it?”
he paused.
then? “yes. but only indoors. with the curtains closed. and a blanket.”
you laughed as he wrapped you up in the nearest hoodie and muttered, “i need a drink. and therapy. and maybe a glue gun.”
ʚ・george russell
you walked into the living room with the fakest innocent smile on your face and the largest box you could find on amazon. george was sitting on the couch, laptop open, looking like a ceo of something important.
“i got something for the trip,” you said sweetly.
he looked up. “that box is huge. did you order a tent?”
you beamed. “bikini.”
he blinked. “that’s not a bikini-sized box. that’s an appliance-sized box.”
you set it down and started dramatically peeling off the layers — tissue paper, unnecessary foam, even a fake ribbon — while george just watched in mild horror.
“is this an unboxing video?” he asked, deadpan. “should i film this for content? are we reviewing the manufacturer’s efficiency?”
you reached the final layer.
and pulled out the swimsuit.
or… the two lonely strings of yarn and a prayer that you were calling a swimsuit.
george stared.
and stared.
“…where’s the rest of it?” he finally asked, voice cracking ever so slightly.
“that’s it!”
he shut his laptop slowly. “that’s not it. that’s… that’s not a garment. that’s yarn.”
“it’s cute!”
“it’s nonexistent.”
you turned it around, holding it by the strings like it was a spider you weren’t sure was dead. “you don’t think it’s cute?”
he stood up like he needed to physically confront the reality of the situation. “how did you even find this? who sold it to you? did you blackmail someone? did it come with a warning label?”
“i packaged it myself.”
he blinked. “you what.”
“it’s a prank, babe.”
silence.
then, he slowly sank back onto the couch, covered his face, and mumbled, “you’re the reason i have stress dreams.”
you dropped the string bikini on his chest and smiled. “but you love me anyway.”
“i do,” he sighed. “i just… wish you loved fabric.”
ʚ・carlos sainz
carlos was lying on the bed, one arm behind his head, scrolling his phone while you rifled through your suitcase.
“i got a new swimsuit for the trip,” you said casually, pulling out a folded towel to fake wrap the "swimsuit" in.
he hummed. “another one?”
you smirked. “this one’s special.”
he turned his head just in time to see you dramatically unwrap what could only be described as two strings of yarn connected by stubbornness and delusion.
carlos sat up.
paused.
blinked.
“…dios mío.”
you fought to keep a straight face. “it’s cute, right?”
he stood up slowly, like his body was moving while his brain was buffering. “that’s not a swimsuit. that’s—that’s a trap. you wear that, and i’m fighting everyone.”
you held it up by the strings. “it’s kind of artistic.”
“it’s kind of criminal.”
you twirled it once. “it’s technically wearable.”
“it’s technically two pieces of string and a death wish.”
you laughed, tossing it onto the bed. “so you’re saying you don’t want me wearing it at the hotel pool?”
“hotel pool?” he gave you an incredulous look. “you can’t even wear that in our apartment without risking emotional damage.”
“too much?”
“i’ve seen paper towels with more coverage.”
you walked over and looped your arms around his neck, grinning. “jealous?”
he rested his forehead against yours, sighing dramatically. “no. i’m concerned. for your safety. and my blood pressure.”
you leaned in close. “you’re just mad because you know i’d steal the show.”
he kissed your cheek. “i’m mad because i know i’d get arrested for public indecency by association.”
you laughed into his shoulder, and he wrapped his arms around you like a man who had just stared into the abyss.
“i’m hiding that,” he muttered. “i don’t even trust you to prank me with it again.”
ʚ・charles leclerc
“charles?” you called sweetly, stepping into the hotel room with a mischievous grin and a suspicious little shopping bag.
he glanced up from the bed, where he was sitting with his ipad and airpods, one brow raised. “yes, amour?”
“i got a swimsuit for this weekend. want to see it?”
he smiled, setting the ipad aside. “of course.”
you pulled it from the bag slowly, two strings. only strings. it might have once been a swimsuit, but now? it was a scandal waiting to happen.
charles stared.
then blinked once.
then smiled. slowly.
“mon dieu…” he muttered, dragging a hand down his face. “is that legal?”
“technically,” you shrugged, holding it up. “there’s a front. and a back. i kind of wish it was thinner.”
he tilted his head, eyes trailing the string in your hands with the fascination of a man watching his entire moral compass short-circuit. “and you plan to wear this in public…it's already thin enough?”
“maybe. why?”
he stood, crossing the room in three slow, measured steps. “because, chérie… if you wear that outside, i will never survive it.”
you smirked. “you hate it?”
he leaned in close, lips brushing your ear. “no,” he whispered. “i want you to wear it. but only where i can see you.”
you blinked.
“put it on,” he said, voice low, fingers brushing the hem of your shirt. “let me see everything.”
you burst out laughing, hitting his chest lightly. “charles!”
he laughed too, pulling you in by the waist. “you’re evil,” he said against your neck, voice playful. “you come in here with two strings and expect me to be normal?”
“you seemed pretty into it.”
“i am,” he said shamelessly. “but mon amour… if you wear that out, i’ll have to start swinging. and i don’t want to go to jail in monaco.”
ʚ・lando norris
you stood in front of the mirror, struggling to keep a straight face as you unwrapped the tiny bag you’d stuffed the “swimsuit” into. two strings. one knot. less coverage than a shoelace.
“baaaabe,” you called sweetly. “i got a new swimsuit. wanna see?”
“yeah, sure!” lando shouted from the other room. “wait—should i come in there or—?”
you opened the door slowly, string bikini dangling from one finger like it was a precious artifact. “no need. just look.”
he turned.
froze.
squinted.
then: “what is that?!”
you fought a grin. “it’s my new bikini.”
“that’s not a bikini,” he said, already walking toward you like he needed to inspect it up close for safety reasons. “that’s—that’s a joke, right?”
you turned it around like a qvc host. “front and back. simple.”
he gaped at you. “it’s a crime scene.”
“very fashion-forward.”
“it’s barely forward! it’s not even forward-adjacent!”
you were shaking with laughter now as he waved his arms in genuine disbelief. “where did you even buy that? why did you buy that? how did they ship it? in a matchbox?!”
“i thought it’d be cute on the beach.”
he took the swimsuit carefully, like it might bite him, and held it up with two fingers. “there is more fabric in a tea bag.”
“i think you’re being dramatic.”
“i think you’re being dangerous.”
you stepped in close, resting your hands on his chest. “so you don’t want me to wear it?”
lando looked at you. then at the strings. then back at you.
“i want you to burn it.”
you grinned. “too late. i packed it.”
“i’m not letting you leave the hotel room.”
“promise?”
his jaw dropped. “you’re the worst.”
you winked. “and yet.”
he groaned into your shoulder, muttering, “i need therapy. and a one-piece. for you.”
ʚ・oscar piastri
you didn’t warn him.
you just walked into the hotel room, holding what looked like a piece of yarn with a dream. no dramatic intro, no buildup — just straight chaos.
“new swimsuit,” you said casually, tossing it onto the bed like it wasn’t about to destroy him.
oscar turned from his laptop, expression as flat and unreadable as always… until he saw it.
he stared.
blink.
longer stare.
“…that’s it?”
“that’s it.”
he sat back in the chair slowly, arms crossed. “that’s not a swimsuit.”
you raised an eyebrow. “you don’t like it?”
he took a very long pause. processing. buffering. internally screaming.
“i… don’t disapprove,” he said finally, choosing his words like they were part of a hostage negotiation. “but… i’m trying to understand where the rest of it went.”
you held it up by a single string. “it’s trendy. daring. very… cute.”
“it’s barely thread.”
you grinned. “so you do disapprove.”
he didn’t answer right away, just tilted his head, looking you up and down like he was trying to calculate structural integrity. “…if it makes you happy to wear that, then it’s fine.”
you squinted. “but you’re dying inside.”
he blinked. “a little.”
you walked closer, draping the swimsuit over his shoulder like a sash. “you don’t think i’d look hot?”
“that’s not the issue,” he said immediately, not even blinking. “the issue is physics.”
you burst out laughing, and that finally cracked a smile from him — soft, a little resigned, but full of affection.
“i trust you,” he added, voice quiet but firm. “i just… don’t trust gravity. or wind. or humanity.”
you kissed his cheek. “so private pool only?”
he nodded. “preferably with no windows.”
you leaned back, watching him eye the bikini like it was a cursed relic. “you’re kind of obsessed with me.”
he smiled again, this time without hesitation. “obviously.”
summary: you have vaginismus and are nervous about your first time having sex with your boyfriend; vaginismus is a condition where a person’s vagina tightens up when there is an attempt to insert something inside of it.
includes: smut (mdni!), pwp, established relationship, fluff, dry humping, fingering, oral (f receiving), piv, praise, so many petnames, aftercare
wc: ~ 2.8k
a/n: this is the fluffiest smut i have ever written, and i think it's also my favorite?
lando had his arms wrapped around you as you laid on the couch, half-watching some movie you’d both seen before. his presence was always comforting, the way he let you drape your body over his and hold you close like you’re the most precious person in the world.
you turned your face into his neck, bored of the movie that was playing and admittedly, you were feeling a little bit sleepy. he ran his firm hand through your hair while the other gripped your waist, “you tired, love?”
nodding into him, you whispered meekly, “not too tired.” you pulled away to look at him, biting your lower lip. he shot you an inquisitive look and brushed a strand of hair from your cheek. “no? not too tired for what?” his pupils widened as he glanced down at your smooth, velvety lips.
he shifted his weight under you, bringing your legs around to straddle him while you rolled your eyes. “uh-uh tell me, darling, use your words,” lando said softly. your lips met his with a gentle, longing, too short kiss. his voice was earnest when he broke away from you, “what do you want, angel?”
your eyes searched his, silently begging him to find the words for everything you wanted to ask for. lando was patient, almost frustratingly so–the little voice in your head that always told you it’s all for show, it was back again. he never pushed you to do more than you were able to, and he always let you take it slow and tell him what you could handle. all of the times you had been intimate together it was just the foreplay, something you felt embarrassed of, guilty even.
sometimes you’d apologize for not being ready to go all the way, and you worried that it wasn’t enough for him, but he was always right there to reassure you. he always checked on how you felt afterwards, and you would confide in him about your anxiety. he would say something like, “you’re perfect, it doesn’t matter to me love,” or, “take as much time as you need, i’m not going anywhere.” he’d remind you that he loved you for who you are, that it wasn’t about sex.
regardless of how much he hoped the sex would be possible for you, you weren’t sure. having sex with other partners has been possible but still painful, even after trying dilators and exercises and everything possible that didn’t break your budget. no matter how many times lando plunged his fingers inside of you, it still felt like a shock. the stretch always burned, even when it was just one. the slow process of letting your body accept him like you willed it to was painstaking, and you ached for him, to have all of him. the whimpers you let out every time you squeezed around his fingers made lando feel something between heartbreak and arousal; he hated to see you in pain but loved every single one of your pretty noises.
there was also the concern about his size in particular. even in your mouth he felt too big, too thick for you to take all of the way. not that it ever mattered to him.
all lando ever wanted was to take care of you, to make you feel wanted and loved, like he always showed you. and all you wanted was to be enough, to feel like you were enough for him.
you leaned into him again, this time to whisper in his ear–almost like it was shameful, “i think… i want to try it.”
his knee shifted under you, gently moving you along his thigh and pulling you in for a deeper kiss than before. “are you sure, darling?” he asked, and you shook your head, “very sure.”
“we’ll take it slow, whatever you need-” lando spoke, but you cut him off with another needy kiss. “i’m serious, love. if you want to stop, you’ll tell me yeah?”
a hum of agreement vibrated out of you. “mhmm, now shut up and kiss me,” you murmured, and lando’s lips crashed onto yours instantly. it was all heat and need, his tongue brushing yours in the way that always makes your stomach churn. the space between you was basically already nonexistent, but it wasn’t close enough. every movement to get closer to lando was another drag against his thigh under your throbbing cunt. the way you groan in his mouth as he kisses you would almost be pathetic if he wasn’t doing the same.
your hips push you higher into his lap for you to grind against his already hard cock and whimper against his lips. the kiss only broke for you to moan desperately at the feeling of him so close to where you need it. “you like grinding on me, baby?” lando said, almost taunting you, yet his words were still met with a nod. he kissed your cheek as you kept chasing the friction, and his lips moved down to the spot under your earlobe and down your neck, sucking and biting gently; you could only whine at his touch.
he let out a breathy laugh against your skin at the noise and itched to bring you closer. one hand was gripped the top of your ass, keeping you in motion, and the other snuck under your shirt to massage your breasts. he teased your perked nipple with his thumb, leaving you to moan softly. “that’s it let me hear you, such a good girl,” he muttered before taking off your shirt. lando took your exposed nipples into his mouth, giving each the attention they needed with a delicate swirl of his tongue and sucking on them enough to make you squirm away from him.
“oh darling, you must be a mess,” he said making you flustered. “let make take care of you, my love,” he hummed, picking you up gracefully with his strong arms and carrying you to his bedroom. he planted little kisses on your cheeks and stroked your hair as he walked. lando felt like your anchor, holding you down and making sure you didn’t drift away.
in the room, he laid you down on the edge of the bed. he slipped his fingers under the waistband of your pajamas and panties, “can i take these off?”
“please,” you said, urging him to hurry up. his hands worked painfully slowly to slide everything off, leaving you completely vulnerable when he was done. he sunk to his knees and slung your legs around his neck, spreading you open wide. he brought his fingers to your dripping folds, “all of this for me?” he asked as he played with your clit. “such a beautiful girl, love your pretty pussy.”
lando kissed the inside of your thighs, making you wait for what you so badly needed, as he rubbed his thumb over your clit. but your impatience grew, “lan,” you pleaded.
“what do you want, baby? use your words.”
“need you, your mouth- please,” you cried out, whinier than you meant to.
“that’s all you had to say… such a good girl,” he whispered into your cunt, the rumble of his voice lighting up your entire body. he teased you at first, only offering small flicks of his tongue on your clit. you tried to grind against his mouth, chasing his warmth and your need. his hands gripped your hips to hold you down, only for a moment before extending one for you to hold.
you accepted his hand, and he finally gave you what you wanted. he licked your clit like it would save him, alternating between long strokes and sucking. you felt pure bliss while his mouth was around you, his spit combining with the wet juices leaking out of your pussy.
lando lifted his head for a moment to ask, “you close, love?”
with a nod you pulled him back into your cunt, your free hand gripping his curls as you grind onto his tongue. he moans at the taste leaking out of you, and it sends shivers down your spine. you clench around nothing, tightening your legs around lando’s neck as you orgasm, moaning his name breathlessly.
he gets up to kiss you, and you feel yourself all over his lips and chin. you bite on his lower lip and pull away. “i think you need to come again,” he says, mouth ghosting over yours and his hand reaching back down. “i can’t,” you reply. “yes you can. you deserve it, sweet girl,” and you groan at lando’s words.
his thumb grazes over your clit again, and he pushes in one finger at the same time. you tense around him out of nervousness, and a slight burn at the stretch, despite being used to the feeling. he watches your face closely as it happens, to observe how you tilt your head up and bite your lip to stifle a moan. “you’re so perfect, doing so well for me,” he says, curling his fingers at your sweet spot, coaxing beautiful moans from your mouth.
“i love those pretty sounds,” lando said and kissed your neck. “are you ready for another?” he asked, teasing your entrance with a second finger.
“oh god- please lando,” you whimpered.
he made room for the second one, pushing into your entrance gently. he took his time, letting you adjust to the size of his large fingers as you tightened around him. “that okay, darling?”
“more than okay- god lando-” your eyes widening as he kept pushing deep inside. he took it as permission to keep going. he moved faster, thrusting and curling inside of you the way you liked, he even spread his fingers out, trying to stretch you out and get used to the feeling. you tightened around him, signaling another climax quickly approaching.
“let go for me,” he urged you, and it was enough for you to come again. you strained around his fingers, soaking them with your arousal. “that’s it, you’re always so pretty like this,” he sighed as you moaned out, feeling your release throughout your whole body. “god, i’ll never get tired of that sound,” he muttered more for himself than for you, like it would kill him to not say it aloud.
lando removed his fingers from your core, and you felt desperate for him to be inside of you again, wincing at the loss. he brought his fingers to his mouth and sucked your juices off of them, groaning at the taste.
your heart dropped to your stomach in that moment, and you cursed under your breath. your hands extended to his tented pants, palming at his erection. “lan, please- fuck i need you,” you whined.
“are you sure, baby?” lando’s hands caressing your waist as he asked.
“i’m sure, but…” you hesitate, “but i’m nervous, lan,” you whispered helplessly under him. “it’s okay, angel, i’m gonna take care of you. we can stop if you need to, just tell me if it’s too much, yeah?” he replied, cupping your cheek and planting a gentle kiss on your lips. “i know you can handle this, i’ve got you.”
“hurry,” you egged him on, and your urgency drove him to undress as quickly as possible. you admired his muscular arms and his flushed, leaking cock as he stripped in front of you.
he rubbed the head of his cock through your slick folds and against your clit, easing you into the sensation. you took a deep breath trying to relieve your nerves, and he held your face close to his, trying to ground you. after a few moments, he felt you relax underneath him, so he asked, “you ready?”
“please, i need you,” you begged, and your hopeless tone made his cock twitch. he lined himself up with your slit, slowly pushing in just a little. you flinch at the feeling and pull away slightly. “you okay, love?” he asked, stilling his movement immediately.
“yeah just… hurts a little bit,” you say. “do you want to stop?” he asks, and you shake your head no. “is it okay if i move? i won’t go any further, i promise.”
“mhmm, just let me pull you in closer when i’m ready,” you explain. “take whatever you need, darling,” lando replied.
as he promised, lando made small, barely-there thrusts with the head of his cock. his lips were on yours, tenderly kissing you like he’s worried you’ll break. you whimper at the stretch but instantly start adjusting to the pressure. the time he took to make you orgasm was a necessity–the slick that overflowed from your cunt made it a little easier to let him slip in. one hand tangles in his curls and the other scratches at his back as soft moans roll from your mouth into his.
you finally adjust to his size and guide him in further, pulling at his waist. he doesn’t move more than you let him, stopping him before he even gets halfway in. it’s tight and painful but not as much as you expected it to be. “you’re doing so well for me, baby,” he says as he thrusts into you patiently, not moving too fast or too far. a quiet moan falls out of him as your pussy clenches around his length. your moans overlap his while you calm down and allow yourself to feel the pleasure of lando moving inside of you.
your hips buck up, ready to take more, and grip him to bring him in as deeply as he can fit. the pressure fills you with intense electricity, a slight burn that’s overwhelmed by pleasure. both of you moan again at the sensation, filthy noises flooding the room. “you’re perfect, taking me so well, darling,” he groaned in your ear as he fucked into you with deep, slow strokes, “my perfect girl, you’re all mine.”
“i’m yours, lan,” you whisper back, “all yours.”
that longing feeling between you and lando evaporated as he buried himself inside of you, hitting the back of your aching cunt perfectly, just like that. you melted underneath him, feeling weak and shaky yet so good and safe. it was the first time in a long time that the sex felt like something more, that you were properly taken care of and loved by someone else.
he plunged himself deeply into you, watching your expressions shift as you moaned and bit your lip to make sure you weren’t in pain and to admire your beauty.
“this… shit how did i get so lucky- this pussy is mine,” lando groaned. you squeezed around him, a response to his praise and his pace. “fuck lando please,” you cried. his thrusts only faltered slightly when you tightened around his cock. “you’re close?” he asked, already knowing the answer.
“yes, don’t stop-!” you exclaimed.
“good girl, want to watch you fall apart on me,” he said, reaching his hand down to rub your clit. instantly you saw stars as you quivered around him, your legs completely useless. your own orgasm brought his on too. he pulled out in time, spilling out all over your chest with a grunt.
lando collapsed beside you and sighed a deep noise that came straight from his soul, “you’re fucking perfect, you know that?” he played with strands of your hair, staring at your beautifully fucked out face. “was that okay?” he asked.
“yeah, it was… incredible,” you say, meeting his gaze, “i love you, lan.”
“i love you too, you’re incredible. you’re a fucking angel.” you blushed and turned away giggling. he tilted your face back with a finger to meet his eyes, “no- i’m serious, i could look at you all day.”
you rolled your eyes at him and started to stand up to clean off, but he insisted you keep lying down. “uh-uh stay here. i’ll take care of you,” he said and gave you a be right back kiss.
a few moments later, lando returned with a towel and glass of water. the glass was set on the nightstand before he kneeled next to you with the towel, cleaning up all of his come. “are you okay?” he asked, eyes still focused on cleaning himself off of you.
you nodded, “yeah, it burns a little, and… i’m kind of sore.”
“i’m sorry, angel,” he frowned at you.
you pulled him down to be on top of you again, “i’ll be okay in the morning, plus it was worth it,” you smirked.
he flipped onto his back, and you slotted yourself into his side, “you’re worth it, you’re everything.”
he held you close, hands running through your hair and all over your body as he kissed you all over, your cheeks, nose, lips, forehead, neck, anywhere he could reach. lando kept whispering sweet nothings in your ear until sleep got the best of you both.
a/n: do we like the small text? hope you guys loved reading this as much as i loved writing it <3
