summary: after a bad argument with the drivers, you leave the house to get some air. except, you lose track of time, your phone's dead, and your boyfriend? spiralling.
drivers: lw44, cl16, op81, ln4, gr63, ak12, mv1, yt22, aa23, cs55, eo31, ob87, ls18, fa14, ll30, ih6, nh27, gb5, pg10, fc43
warnings: a bit angsty, mentions of an argument, mentions of walking out/leaving.
notes: i actually giggled typing these out, i hope you like it as much as i did! i put translations for things at the bottom incase anyone is interested! no part 2 (sorry)
f1 masterlist !
FERRARI
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MERCEDES
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REDBULL
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MCLAREN
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WILLIAMS
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RACING BULLS
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ASTON MARTIN
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KICK SAUBER
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HAAS
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ALPINE
translations:
stp/s'il te plait = please
schatje = treasure/little treasure
tu es ma vie = you are my life
j'peux pas respirer sans toi = i cant breathe without you
oh for sureee, she’s got countless of viral moments it seems neverending. fans still live for it tho!!!
more about driver!yn
the podium slip
Rain soaked podium. Champagne everywhere. YN took one step in her race boots and slipped, did a perfect spin, and took George down with her.
He fell. Oscar slipped on them. Yuki watched it all happen with a horrified face from below the podium. They all ended up on the floor. She raised a thumbs up from the ground and said:
“I stuck the landing.”
“WHY DID SHE TAKE GEORGE DOWN WITH HER”
the team radio breakdown
She was in P2. Two laps to go. The podium was hers. And then—snap. A mechanical failure. Complete power loss, everything stopped.
She rolled to a stop in sector three, heart thundering, fists clenched so tight it shook. The radio crackled. And then—anger.
“I swear, I will actually FIGHT this car. Someone hold me back.”
Luca’s silence was deafening.
Later, she laughed about it. Said she’d cool off. But fans? They turned it into a war cry.
“luca’s js used to everything she’s doing”
post race cravings
Post-race interview. She looked dead behind her eyes. Grease smudged her jaw. Her ponytail was falling apart. The race had been hell. No points, no pace. And the reporter asked what her plans were.
She sighed, blinked slowly, and went: “…nuggets. McDonald’s. I’d sell my souls for a 20 piece right now.”
And the best part? McDonald’s replied. By the next race, she had a personalized nugget box. With her number on it.
“she ate the nuggets during fp1. realest driver out there”
the lewis interview
Post race, she walked into frame next to Lewis. Exhausted, but radiating chaos. He leaned on her shoulder. She leaned back.
“We’re tired,” he said to the mic.
“We’re delusional,” she added. They both bursted into laughter.
They started high-fiving out of nowhere mid-interview. Talking over each other. Giggling at nothing.
The interviewer gave up halfway through.
“these two have NO media training and we LOVE that”
grid kid softness
He looked scared. Eight years old, holding the umbrella next to her on the grid, hands shaking.
She knelt down.
“Hey,” she said gently, handing him her cap. “You look cool. Wanna wear this?” He nodded shyly.
She fist-bumped him. “You’re braver than half the grid.”
He beamed back at her. And she stood for the anthem, capless, with one hand protectively behind his back.
“he said she makes him feel ‘safe.’ i’m actually sobbing’
the seb moment
During a race weekend, Sebastian Vettel made a surprise paddock appearance. YN spotted him from across the media pen and literally gasped. Covered her mouth. Full body turn. Then ran.
They hugged, she squealed. He called her "the fiercest thing on four wheels." She teared up.
Photos of her beaming at Seb like he was her dad? Broke the internet. They love them both.
“she looked like a kid meeting her hero”
the public nap situation
It was between sessions. Hot day. Busiest paddock of the season.
Someone walked by a tire stack and found YN asleep behind it. Fully out. Arm as a pillow. Hoodie pulled over her eyes, how did she get there?
She woke up to the sound of a mechanic accidentally dropping a wrench and sat up like a soldier in a war movie.
any rookie being a teen dad, and everyone is shocked when they bring their toddler to the paddock? 🥹
Baby on Board - GB5
pairing: gabriel bortoleto x fem!partner!reader
summary: Gabriel Bortoleto has managed to keep the biggest secret of his life under wraps while climbing the ladder from F3 to F2 to F1: his 2-year-old daughter, Clara. He became a dad at 18, and thanks to a tight-knit family protecting his privacy, nobody knows. But during a chaotic race weekend, his usual childcare arrangement falls through at the last second. With no other option, he has to smuggle a toddler into the paddock.
wc: 5.0k
💭 you can ask for a part 2 if you’d like!
note: here's your request, anon! I hope you like it, thanks for your amazing idea. I hope you're happy I did it with Gabi, but if you'd like it with another rookie, just let me know and I'll do it as soon as possible. Have a great day! 😽💐
Gabriel Bortoleto had driven a Formula 3 car in the pouring rain at Silverstone. He had managed tires on the melting asphalt of Bahrain. He had negotiated contracts with some of the most intimidating figures in motorsport.
None of that prepared him for the sheer, heart-stopping terror of the Imola paddock turnstiles at 8:15 AM on a Thursday.
"Pa," a muffled voice said into his sternum.
Gabriel coughed loudly, masking the sound. He adjusted his grip on the suspicious, moving lump beneath his oversized team rain jacket. It was twenty-two degrees and sunny. There was absolutely no reason for him to be wearing a waterproof trench coat that was two sizes too big, but desperate times called for desperate fashion choices.
"Shh," he whispered, barely moving his lips, looking straight ahead through his dark sunglasses. "Clara, please. Por favor. Two minutes. Just give Papai two minutes."
He felt a tiny, diaper-clad bottom wiggle against his stomach. A small hand, sticky with the remnants of a bribing biscotti, gripped the fabric of his T-shirt underneath the coat.
Beep. Clunk.
The person in front of him—a tall mechanic from Prema—pushed through the turnstile. Gabriel stepped up. He felt like he was smuggling a nuclear device, not a twenty-six-month-old toddler with curly hair and an attitude problem.
He tapped his hard card against the scanner.
Nothing. Red light.
Gabriel froze. Sweat prickled explicitly at his hairline. He tapped it again. Aggressively.
Please, he begged the universe. I will never complain about tire deg again. Just open the gate.
"Trouble, Gab?"
Gabriel’s heart hammered a rhythm faster than a V6 engine. He turned his head rigidly to the side. The security guard, an older Italian man named Marco who had known Gabriel since his karting days in Italy, was raising an eyebrow.
"Just... the chip," Gabriel said, his voice an octave higher than usual. He leaned his chest away from the counter, terrified Marco would notice that his torso was vibrating because the 'torso' was currently humming the Peppa Pig theme song. "Old card. You know how it is."
Marco leaned out of his booth, eyes scanning Gabriel’s odd silhouette. "You look... big, Gabriel. You hitting the gym hard? Bulking season?"
"Yes," Gabriel said immediately. "Bulking. Protein. Lots of... weights."
At that exact moment, Clara decided she was bored of the darkness inside the jacket. She sneezed. It was a high-pitched, undeniably human sound.
Gabriel slammed his hand against the scanner again. BEEP. Green light.
"Bless you," Marco said, looking confused.
"Allergies!" Gabriel yelled over his shoulder, already shoving his body through the metal turnstile with the grace of a panicked gazelle. "See you later, Marco!"
He power-walked—because running would attract attention, and Gabriel was all about subtlety—past the swarm of Netflix cameras waiting near the Alpine hospitality. He kept his head down, clutching his chest protectively, weaving through the maze of motorhomes.
"Juice," the jacket demanded.
"We are almost there, meu amor," Gabriel hissed, dodging a literal Lewis Hamilton on a scooter. "We are going to the safe house. Do not speak to the nice man on the scooter."
He reached the gray door of his driver’s room, fumbled with the key code with shaking fingers, and practically fell inside, kicking the door shut behind him and locking it.
Only then did he unzip the coat.
A head of messy curls popped out, blinking against the sudden light. Clara looked up at him, her large brown eyes unimpressed. She had crumbs on her chin and one of her socks was missing.
"Pa," she declared, pointing at the mini-fridge in the corner. "Juice."
Gabriel slid down the door until he hit the floor, exhaling a breath he felt like he’d been holding since the airport. He looked at his daughter, then at his watch. He had FP1 in three hours, a briefing in twenty minutes, and a toddler who needed a diaper change in the middle of a Formula 1 paddock.
"Okay," Gabriel whispered to the empty room. "We made it in. That was the hard part. Definitely the hard part."
It was, in fact, not the hard part.
The engineering truck smelled like stale espresso and high-stress ambition. It was a sterile environment, a wall of monitors displaying squiggly lines that determined Gabriel’s future.
Gabriel sat at the small conference table, staring at a graph of his throttle application through Turn 7.
"You're lifting too early," his race engineer, Tom, said, tapping the screen with a stylus. "Look at the delta here. You’re giving away two-tenths because you’re not trusting the rear grip on entry."
"The rear grip isn't there, Tom," Gabriel argued, rubbing his temples. He wasn't thinking about rear grip. He was thinking about the fact that he had left a two-year-old alone in his driver’s room with an iPad, a packet of animal crackers, and a stern promise that Bluey was more important than leaving the room.
He checked his phone under the table. The baby monitor app showed a live feed of the room. It was empty.
Gabriel’s blood ran cold.
He refreshed the app. Still empty.
"Gabriel?" The Team Principal was looking at him now. "Are you with us? This is qualifying simulation data. It’s important."
"Yes," Gabriel croaked. "Sorry. Trusting the rear. Turn 7. Flat out."
Where is she? His mind was racing faster than the car. Did she hide under the massage table? Did she figure out the lock? Oh god, did she find the mini-fridge?
"Okay, let's look at the brake bias settings for sector three," Tom continued, scrolling to a new page of data. "We think if you shift it forward by 2%—"
Creak.
The sound was subtle, but in the acoustic vacuum of the engineering truck, it sounded like a gunshot.
The door to the meeting room—the heavy, soundproof door that required a handle turn—slowly drifted open.
Every head in the room turned. Tom, the performance engineer, the data analyst, and the Team Principal all looked toward the entrance, expecting a mechanic or perhaps Nico Hülkenberg coming to complain about traffic.
Instead, they saw nothing. The doorway appeared empty.
"Must be the draft," Tom muttered, turning back to the screen. "Anyway, the brake bias—"
"Papai?"
The voice was small, clear, and absolutely devastated.
Tom dropped his stylus.
Slowly, collectively, the five grown men in the room looked down.
Standing in the doorway was Clara. She was wearing her bucket hat sideways. She had discarded the oversized jacket and was now standing in a white t-shirt and floral leggings. In her hand, she clutched a very expensive-looking carbon fiber front wing endplate that she had evidently dragged in from the hallway.
She looked at the room full of strangers, then locked eyes with Gabriel. Her bottom lip wobbled.
"Papai," she said, louder this time, pointing an accusing finger at him. "iPad died."
The silence that followed was heavy enough to crush a diamond.
The Team Principal looked at the toddler. Then he looked at the carbon fiber part she was dragging on the floor (value: approx. €5,000). Then he looked at Gabriel.
"Gabriel," the Principal said, his voice dangerously calm. "Why is there a miniature human calling you 'Papai' and holding our aerodynamic upgrade?"
Gabriel closed his eyes for a brief second, mourning the death of his secret life. He stood up, sighed the sigh of a man who had aged thirty years in thirty seconds, and walked over to the door.
He gently pried the carbon fiber part from Clara’s grip—she protested with a squeak—and scooped her up into his arms. She immediately buried her face in his neck, smelling like baby wipes and rebellion.
"Sorry," Gabriel said, turning back to the room. He bounced her slightly on his hip, a muscle memory that looked jarringly domestic in his fireproof race suit. "The iPad battery is terrible. We really need to look into that."
"Gabriel," Tom stammered. "Is that... is she..."
"Yes," Gabriel said. He grabbed a spare charging cable from the table. "This is Clara. She has understeer issues when she walks, and she’s currently running a high-fuel load of apple juice. Can we finish the debrief? She’s nap-deprived and I don’t want to be here when the tantrum hits."
The room remained silent.
Then, Clara lifted her head, looked at the telemetry graph on the big screen, and pointed. "Car."
"Yes, amor, car," Gabriel soothed.
The Team Principal blinked. A slow, confused smile spread across his face. "Well," he said, leaning back in his chair. "She's right. It is a car. And... does she have a superlicence?"
Gabriel slumped back into his chair, Clara settled happily on his lap, grabbing a highlighter. "Give it eighteen years," he muttered. "Now, about Turn 7?"
Gabriel stepped out of the engineering room, sweating through his fireproof undershirt. The adrenaline of the "reveal" had worn off, replaced by the crushing anxiety of what happens now.
He had a debrief with the strategists in ten minutes. He had a marketing appearance in thirty. And currently, he had a toddler hanging off his left bicep like a sloth, trying to eat the zipper of his race suit.
"Please stop eating the suit, Clara," Gabriel begged, prying the metal zipper tab from her teeth. "It tastes like Nomex and sponsorship obligations."
He turned the corner into the narrow hallway of the Sauber motorhome, desperate to reach his driver's room unseen.
Instead, he ran smack into a wall.
A wall of blonde, German muscle.
Nico Hülkenberg stood there, filling the hallway. He was wearing his team kit, his arms crossed, looking down at his phone. He looked up slowly, his blue eyes locking onto Gabriel’s face.
Then, his eyes traveled down to the toddler.
Gabriel stopped breathing. This was it. Nico was a professional. He was the man who came back to F1 purely on consistency and focus. He was going to look at Gabriel, see a twenty-year-old holding a baby, and demand he be replaced by a reserve driver immediately.
"Nico," Gabriel squeaked. "I... this is... I can explain. It’s a temporary logistics failure. It won’t affect my lap times. I swear."
Nico didn't speak. He just stared at Clara.
Clara stopped chewing the zipper. She stared back at the giant blonde man. The tension was palpable.
Nico leaned forward, squinting slightly. He reached out a hand. Gabriel flinched, half-expecting Nico to snatch his superlicence away.
Instead, Nico reached out and expertly tucked a stray curl of hair behind Clara’s ear that had been bothering her eye.
"She has her shoes on the wrong feet," Nico said. His voice was flat, dry, and utterly German.
Gabriel blinked. "What?"
"The velcro," Nico pointed. "The straps are facing inward. Beginner mistake. Creates drag. Tripping hazard."
Gabriel looked down. Sure enough, Clara’s tiny sneakers were swapped. "Oh. I... I didn't notice. I was in a rush at the turnstiles."
Nico sighed—a long, weary sound that contained decades of motorsport experience. He dropped to one knee. The motion was fluid, surprising for a man of his size.
"Give me the foot," Nico commanded.
Clara, apparently recognizing authority when she saw it, immediately lifted her left leg.
Gabriel stood frozen in the hallway, watching his 38-year-old teammate—a Le Mans winner and F1 veteran—efficiently rip open the velcro, swap the shoes, and re-fasten them with the precision of a pit crew doing a 2.2-second stop.
"Lift," Nico said. Clara lifted the other foot.
"I didn't know you were... good with kids," Gabriel stammered, feeling lightheaded.
"I have a daughter," Nico mumbled, checking the tension on the shoe strap. "She is roughly this size. Maybe a little taller. Better aerodynamics."
He stood up, dusting off his knees. He looked Gabriel dead in the eye.
"You are carrying her on your dominant arm," Nico critiqued. "Rookie error. You need that arm for signing autographs and holding your phone. Switch to the left hip. Use the hip bone as a shelf. Save your energy for Q3."
Gabriel obediently shifted Clara to his left hip. It was instantly more comfortable. "Oh. That is better."
"Obviously," Nico said. He reached into the pocket of his team trousers. Gabriel expected him to pull out earplugs or a timing sheet.
Instead, Nico pulled out a small, sealed packet of fruit gummies.
"Here," Nico said, handing them to Clara. She grabbed them with the intensity of a World Champion grabbing a trophy. "Bribes are the only way to survive the weekend. Keep the sugar low until after lunch, or she will crash during the engineering meeting."
"Right. Sugar crash. Got it." Gabriel felt like he was taking notes on a new track layout.
Nico moved to walk past him, then paused. He clapped a heavy hand on Gabriel’s shoulder.
"She looks like you," Nico said, a rare, faint smirk touching his lips. "Poor kid."
"Hey!"
"If you need a babysitter during the race," Nico continued, ignoring Gabriel's protest, "Do not ask the strategists. They will overthink her nap time and leave her out too long. Ask the tire guys. They are good at changing dirty things quickly."
With that, The Hulk walked away, leaving Gabriel standing in the hallway with a properly shod toddler and a packet of fruit snacks.
"Pa," Clara said, shaking the gummies. "Big man nice."
"Yeah," Gabriel exhaled, leaning against the wall. "Big man is very efficient, filha. Very efficient."
"Absolutely not," hissed Sarah, Sauber’s head of PR. She was power-walking backwards in front of Gabriel as they headed from the garage toward the media pen. "Gabriel, no. This is a disaster. This is a breach of protocol. This is... she has chocolate on her face!"
"It's a protein bar," Gabriel argued, hoisting Clara higher on his hip. He was still wearing his helmet, visor up, because he hadn't had a spare hand to take it off yet. "And I tried to leave her with the tire guys like Nico said! She screamed so loud she set off a wheel gun."
Clara, currently clutching a half-eaten chocolate protein bar in one fist and Gabriel’s helmet strap in the other, looked remarkably content for someone who had just caused a diplomatic incident in the garage.
"We are live in twenty seconds with Sky Sports," Sarah said, looking like she might faint. "Just... stand behind me. Maybe they won't notice."
They rounded the corner into the media corral. It was a sensory assault: bright sunlight, the smell of ozone and hot asphalt, and fifty camera crews jostling for position.
Usually, when a driver enters the pen, there’s a low hum of chatter.
When Gabriel entered, carrying a toddler wearing mismatched shoes (thanks, Nico) and a face smeared with chocolate, the noise died instantly. It was like someone hit the mute button on the entire paddock.
Fifty camera lenses simultaneously pivoted downward by three feet.
"Right," Gabriel muttered inside his helmet. "Here we go."
He stepped up to the first designated TV spot. The interviewer, a very serious journalist named Tom who lived for tire degradation graphs, stared blankly for three seconds.
"Gabriel," Tom said, his microphone hovering uncertainly between Gabriel’s mouth and Clara’s head. "Good session. P8. You seemed to find some pace on the softs at the end there."
Gabriel took a deep breath of hot air. He had to be professional. He was a Formula 1 driver. "Yes, Tom. The car felt good immediately. We struggled a bit with rear locking into Turn 1, but the balance improved as the track gripped up, and—"
"Ball!" Clara shouted.
She had spotted the microphone. Specifically, the fuzzy gray wind shield on the end of the microphone. To a two-year-old, it looked exactly like a soft toy.
She lunged.
"No, Clara, not a ball," Gabriel said quickly, intercepting her hand with his gloved fist. He looked back at the camera, sweat stinging his eyes. "Sorry. As I was saying, the balance—"
Clara was faster. She ducked under his arm and grabbed the microphone with both sticky hands. Before Tom could react, she buried her face in the fluffy gray foam.
Hmmph-shlurrrp.
The sound of a toddler aggressively trying to eat a professional broadcast microphone was broadcast live to millions of homes around the world.
Tom looked horrified. "Did she just... lick the mic?"
"It’s the foam," Gabriel sighed, defeated. He gently pried the microphone from her grip. It was now visibly damp and stained brown. "She thinks it's cotton candy. I owe you a new wind shield."
He took his helmet off with one hand, shaking out his sweaty hair, and finally looked directly into the camera lens. There was no point hiding anymore.
"Look," Gabriel said, addressing the global audience. "The car is fast. The tires are tricky. And my babysitter cancelled last minute, so my daughter Clara is currently my race engineer for the weekend. Her feedback on the car is mostly that it’s 'too loud' and 'needs more Peppa Pig stickers.' Any other questions?"
Silence reigned in the media pen.
Then, from three spots down, Lando’s loud cackle broke the tension. "Good lad, Gab! She’s already got better media training than half the grid!"
The spell broke. Suddenly, every journalist was shouting questions, none of them about tire degradation.
“How old is she?” “Gabriel, is this why you missed the flight to Baku?” “Does Alonso know? Is he the godfather?”
Clara, overwhelmed by the noise, buried her face in Gabriel’s neck. He rubbed her back instinctively, ignoring the barrage of questions.
Sarah, the PR manager, had her head in her hands just off-camera. Her phone was already vibrating so hard it looked like it was having a seizure. The internet had just found its new favorite driver.
An hour later, Gabriel was sitting at a corner table in the team hospitality unit, looking like he’d just gone twelve rounds with Max Verstappen.
He had managed to source a bowl of plain pasta and was currently engaged in a losing battle to get it into Clara’s mouth instead of onto the floor, her hair, or his team-issued polo shirt.
"The airplane is coming for a landing, Clara. Open the hangar doors. Please. For the love of God, open your mouth."
Clara kept her mouth firmly shut and giggled, batting the plastic spoon away. Pasta sauce splattered onto the table.
Gabriel put his head in his hands.
"So," a hesitant voice drawled from above him. "The rumors are true. You actually acquired a small human."
Gabriel looked up. Standing there, looking utterly bewildered, were the rest of the grid’s 'nursery class': Kimi Antonelli, Ollie Bearman, and Franco Colapinto. They were holding trays of food, staring at Clara like she was a highly volatile experimental engine component.
"Hello, guys," Gabriel sighed, wiping tomato sauce off Clara's nose with a napkin. "Yes. This is Clara. Clara, these are Papai’s colleagues. They drive cars too, but not as fast as me."
"Hey!" Ollie protested, sitting down gingerly at the opposite end of the table, keeping a safe distance. "I out-qualified you in Jeddah."
"I was changing a diaper ten minutes before Q1," Gabriel shot back deadpan. "What was your excuse?"
Kimi sat down next to Ollie, staring intensely at Clara. "How... how does it work?" he asked, genuinely confused. "Do you have to, like, water it?"
Gabriel blinked slowly. "She's not a houseplant, Kimi. She's a person. You feed her food. And then she poops it out. Usually at the most inconvenient times."
"That sounds horrific," Kimi whispered, looking horrified. He poked at his salad. "I can barely remember to charge my phone."
Franco, always the charmer, decided to try a different approach. He leaned across the table, flashing his best media-trained smile at the toddler.
"Hola, bella," Franco cooed smoothly. "Did you know your dad is very slow in the high-speed corners?"
Clara stopped squirming. She looked at Franco. She looked at his perfect hair. She looked at his pristine blue and pink Alpine team shirt.
Then, with the impeccable timing of a comedy veteran, she grabbed a fistful of saucy pasta from her bowl and flung it directly at him.
Splat.
A perfect glob of tomato and basil landed right in the center of the Alpine logo on Franco's chest.
Franco froze, his smile twitching.
Ollie snorted so hard water came out of his nose. Kimi looked even more terrified than before.
"She has good aim," Gabriel noted drily, not even attempting to apologize. "I think she's a Red Bull fan. Sorry about the shirt, Franco. Soda water will get that out."
Franco looked down at his ruined shirt, then back at the giggling toddler. "Right," he squeaked. "I think... I hear my engineers calling. Bye Gabriel. Bye... tiny monster."
The three other young drivers fled the table as if escaping a burning building, leaving Gabriel alone with his triumphant daughter.
"Good job, filha," Gabriel murmured, finally managing to sneak a spoonful of pasta into her mouth while she was distracted by her victory. "We didn't want to talk to them anyway."
It was 11:30 PM before Gabriel finally collapsed onto the stiff mattress of his hotel room.
The room was dark, lit only by the faint glow of the city outside the window. In the cot next to the bed, Clara was finally, miraculously, asleep. She was sprawled on her back, arms thrown out, snoring softly with a faint trace of chocolate still at the corner of her mouth that Gabriel hadn't had the heart to scrub off.
His body ached. His brain felt like it had been put through a blender. He had driven an F1 car at 300 km/h today, but that felt like the easiest part of his day.
He reached for his phone on the bedside table. He hadn't looked at it since the media pen disaster six hours ago. Sarah, the PR officer, had confiscated it "for his own mental health."
He turned it on.
The phone practically vibrated out of his hand. Notifications were scrolling past so fast they were a blur.
Instagram: 99+ new DMs. 50,000 new followers since lunch.
Twitter: His name was trending #1 globally. Below it were #PapaBortoleto, #MicGate, and alarmingly, #DILFGabriel.
He opened Twitter with dread.
The first thing he saw was a video that had 12 million views. It was a slow-motion zoom-in of Clara licking the Sky Sports microphone, set to dramatic opera music.
He scrolled.
There was a meme of Nico Hülkenberg kneeling on the floor changing Clara’s shoes. The caption read: “When you win Le Mans but your toughest endurance challenge is a toddler’s velcro straps.” The official Haas F1 team account had retweeted it with the comment: “Efficiency is key in all aspects of life.”
There were reaction videos of teenage girls crying over how cute it was. There were serious opinion articles analyzing what this meant for the "image of the modern F1 driver."
Lando Norris had posted a photoshop of himself holding a baby, with the caption: "Anyone know where Gab got his? I want one for the aesthetic."
Gabriel let out a laugh that sounded a bit like a sob. It was madness. Absolute madness. The wall he had so carefully built between his private life and his racing life hadn't just fallen down; it had been demolished by a wrecking ball wearing mismatched shoes.
He put the phone down, unable to look anymore. The secret was out. There was no going back.
He rolled onto his side and looked into the cot. Clara looked so small, so peaceful. She had no idea that she was currently the most famous person in motorsport.
A wave of fierce, overwhelming protectiveness washed over him. He reached through the bars of the cot and gently laid his hand on her small, warm chest, feeling the steady rhythm of her breathing.
"We're in trouble, Clara," he whispered into the dark room, a tired smile tugging at the corner of his mouth. "Big trouble. But I think... I think we might be okay."
He closed his eyes. Tomorrow was qualifying. He had to be fast. He had to be focused. And he had to remember to pack the extra-strength wet wipes, just in case she decided to attack another driver with pasta.
Being an F1 driver was hard. Being Papa was harder. But for the first time all day, Gabriel thought he might actually be able to do both.
The apartment in Monaco was quiet. It was the kind of silence that cost a lot of money per square foot—thick walls, double-glazed windows blocking out the distant hum of supercars, and the soft whir of the air conditioning.
It was 2:00 AM.
The front door clicked open. Gabriel didn't step inside so much as he poured himself over the threshold. He dropped his carry-on bag with a dull thud, wincing at the noise.
In his arms, Clara was dead weight—a sleeping, heavy warmth wrapped in a blanket that had definitely been stolen from the Emirates business class cabin.
"You’re late," a soft voice said from the living room.
Gabriel exhaled, his shoulders dropping three inches. He kicked the door shut with his heel and turned.
You were sitting on the beige sofa, bathed in the blue light of your laptop screen. You looked tired, wearing one of his oversized McLaren hoodies from his junior days, your hair tied up in a messy bun. You stood up as he entered, closing the laptop.
"The flight was delayed," Gabriel whispered, his voice raspy. "And we had to wait for the stroller at the gate. And... well, you know. The world ended."
You walked over to him, socks sliding on the hardwood floor. You didn't say anything at first. You just reached out and gently touched Clara’s back, smoothing the blanket. She let out a tiny snore, burrowing deeper into Gabriel’s neck.
"I saw," you said, a small, amused smile tugging at your lips. "I think I’ve seen everything. The internet has been... creative."
Gabriel groaned, resting his forehead against yours. "I am so sorry. I tried to keep it quiet. I tried to hide her. But then the nanny bailed, and the turnstile jammed, and then she ate a microphone..."
"Shh," you soothed, running your hand through his messy, plane-hair. "Go put the monster down. We’ll talk after."
He nodded, pulling away reluctantly. He carried Clara into the nursery—a room painted in soft neutrals, a stark contrast to the neon chaos of his work life. He laid her down in the crib, terrified she would wake up and demand pasta or press conferences.
She didn't. She rolled over, clutching her stuffed rabbit, and stayed asleep.
Gabriel watched her for a moment, the fierce, terrifying love expanding in his chest again. Then he turned off the baby monitor (he could hear her from the living room anyway) and walked back out.
You were in the kitchen now, pouring two glasses of water.
He walked up behind you, wrapping his arms around your waist and burying his face in the crook of your neck. You smelled like vanilla and home. Not tire rubber, not jet fuel, not desperation. Just home.
"Are you mad?" he mumbled into your shoulder.
"Mad?" You turned around in his arms, handing him a glass. "Gabriel, I turned on the TV for FP2 and saw our daughter critiquing the aerodynamics of the Sauber with the Team Principal. I wasn't mad. I was impressed."
Gabriel took a long drink of water. "She has opinions on the front wing."
"I saw the video of her and Nico," you continued, your eyes dancing with laughter. "I saved it. It’s going in her wedding slideshow one day. 'The day Uncle Hulk taught you how to wear shoes.'"
"Uncle Hulk," Gabriel snorted, finally cracking a smile. "He’s actually very good with her. Better than me, maybe."
"Don't say that." You reached up, tracing the dark circles under his eyes. "You survived a race weekend with a toddler, Gab. Most of the grid can’t even survive a race weekend with a mild hangover. You did good."
He leaned into your touch, closing his eyes. "Everybody knows now. The fans. The sponsors. The media."
"I know," you said, your voice turning serious. "I saw the comments."
Gabriel tensed. "Are they bad?"
"No," you said firmly. "They're obsessed with her. But that doesn't matter. What matters is that we don't have to hide anymore. We don't have to pretend I'm just your 'cousin' or that Clara is your 'niece' when we travel."
Gabriel opened his eyes. He looked at you—really looked at you. For two years, they had lived in the shadows to protect his career, to let him be the 'serious young rookie.'
"We can bring her to the paddock next time?" he asked, hope rising in his chest. "Officially? With a pass?"
"If you think you can handle it," you teased. "Though I think she might need her own PR manager after the mic-licking incident."
Gabriel laughed, a genuine, relieved sound. He set the water glass down and pulled you closer.
"I missed you," he said softly. "It was chaos without you. She threw pasta at Franco."
"She what?" You gasped, laughing.
"Right in the Alpine logo. It was a direct hit."
You shook your head, resting your hands on his chest. "Okay. Tomorrow, we deal with the PR team. We deal with the sponsorships. We deal with the 'Teen Dad' headlines."
"And tonight?" Gabriel asked, leaning down to brush his lips against yours.
"Tonight," you whispered, "You are going to sleep for twelve hours. And I am going to turn off the wifi router so we don't have to see one more meme about our daughter's velcro shoes."
"Deal," Gabriel breathed.
He kissed you, deep and slow, the adrenaline of the weekend finally fading into the quiet comfort of the life you had built together. The secret was out, the world was watching, but standing there in the dim kitchen, Gabriel Bortoleto realized he didn't care.
He had the seat. He had the girl. And he had the kid with the best aim in the paddock.
++ special guests : dr3, jb22, sv5, kr7, nr6, toto wolff, james vowles, laurent mekies && our lovely ladies — lily z, lily muni he, kelly piquet, alexandra saint mleux, carmen mundt, kika gomes, rebecca donaldson, flavy barla & susie wolff
; once i claim my territory, i get territorial
(a/n) : omg one of my beautiful moots sent me a request asking who i thought got jealous the most and i could not resist!!!!! also added some of our lovely wags this time<3 also still including yuki + leaving the teams the same until next season starts just bc i want to.
recommended playlist : territorial by kali uchis (the entire concept is based around this song) (teeheehee i luv kali sm), heartbeat by childish gambino, streets by doja cat, dark red by steve lacy, seek and destroy by sza, house of balloons/glass table girls by the weeknd, poison by brent faiyaz
‧₊ ᵎᵎ 🍒 ⋅ ˚✮‧₊ ᵎᵎ 🍒 ⋅ ˚✮‧₊ ᵎᵎ 🍒 ⋅ ˚✮‧₊ ᵎᵎ 🍒 ⋅ ˚✮
𝐫𝐞𝐝 𝐛𝐮𝐥𝐥
𝐦𝐚𝐱 𝐯𝐞𝐫𝐬𝐭𝐚𝐩𝐩𝐞𝐧 - You get jealous easily with Max, and he loves it — the way your jaw tightens when someone laughs a little too hard at his joke, the way your hand slips possessively into his. “You gonna keep glaring at her or kiss me?” he murmurs, amused, eyes dark with satisfaction. But the rare times Max gets jealous, it’s intense — like when a driver's arm lingers around your waist for half a second too long after a hug and Max immediately steps in, hand firm on your back. Later, when you tease him about it, he smirks. “Didn’t like it?” he asks, thumb brushing your hip. You swallow. “I didn’t say that.”
𝐲𝐮𝐤𝐢 𝐭𝐬𝐮𝐧𝐨𝐝𝐚 - Yuki gets jealous more often, but it’s quieter — a flicker of doubt behind his eyes when someone compliments you a little too enthusiastically. He shrugs it off at first, joking, but later he admits, “Sometimes I don’t get why you’re with me.” You stop him immediately, cupping his face, forcing him to look at you. “Because I want you, Yuki. Not anyone else.” His shoulders relax, relief washing over him, and he lets out a small laugh. “You always say that.” You smile softly. “And I’ll keep saying it until you believe me.”
‧₊ ᵎᵎ 🍒 ⋅ ˚✮‧₊ ᵎᵎ 🍒 ⋅ ˚✮‧₊ ᵎᵎ 🍒 ⋅ ˚✮‧₊ ᵎᵎ 🍒 ⋅ ˚✮
𝐦𝐞𝐫𝐜𝐞𝐝𝐞𝐬
𝐠𝐞𝐨𝐫𝐠𝐞 𝐫𝐮𝐬𝐬𝐞𝐥𝐥 - Neither of you really get jealous, but sometimes you pretend to — like when a reporter flirts a bit too openly and you cross your arms dramatically. “Oh?” George says, fighting a grin. “Am I in trouble?” You roll your eyes. “Maybe.” He doesn’t even bother defending himself, just steps closer, pressing a quick kiss to your lips, then another to your cheek. “Still mad?” he asks, smiling against your skin. You sigh, already melting. “You’re impossible, Russell.” He laughs. “And you love it.”
𝐤𝐢𝐦𝐢 𝐚𝐧𝐭𝐨𝐧𝐞𝐥𝐥𝐢 - Kimi is completely oblivious when girls flirt with him — smiling politely, answering questions, not realizing what’s happening until you step in beside him. You slide your arm through his and smile sweetly at the girl. “He’s taken,” you say calmly. Kimi blinks, then looks down at you, lips twitching. “Amore,” he murmurs, amused, “you didn’t have to scare her.” You raise a brow. “You didn’t notice.” He shrugs, kissing your temple. “Why would I look when I already have you, mia bella?” And you both know — he only ever has eyes for you.
‧₊ ᵎᵎ 🍒 ⋅ ˚✮‧₊ ᵎᵎ 🍒 ⋅ ˚✮‧₊ ᵎᵎ 🍒 ⋅ ˚✮‧₊ ᵎᵎ 🍒 ⋅ ˚✮
𝐦𝐜𝐥𝐚𝐫𝐞𝐧
𝐨𝐬𝐜𝐚𝐫 𝐩𝐢𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐫𝐢 - Oscar almost never gets jealous, so when you run into your ex in the paddock — now an engineer — it takes you a second to notice the shift. Oscar’s arm slides around your waist, calm and steady, but his jaw tightens just slightly as the conversation stretches on. He doesn’t interrupt, doesn’t raise his voice — just leans in and says, “Ready to go, love?” in that even tone of his. Your ex excuses himself quickly, and Oscar doesn’t say a word until you’re alone. “Didn’t love that,” he admits quietly, eyes steady on yours. You tease him, smiling. “Jealous?” He exhales through his nose. “Maybe. Don't get used to it, pretty," But his hand stays firm on your hip the rest of the day.
𝐥𝐚𝐧𝐝𝐨 𝐧𝐨𝐫𝐫𝐢𝐬 - You and Lando are usually unshakable, teasing without a trace of jealousy. But when a girl at the club presses in too close, hand lingering on his arm, something sharp flares in your chest. You step in smoothly, fingers curling around Lando’s collar as you murmur, “He’s not interested.” Lando blinks, then grins — slow, dangerous, clearly enjoying this far too much. He lets you pull him closer, hands immediately finding your waist. “Didn’t know you had that in you,” he laughs into your ear. You shoot him a look. “Don’t.” He kisses your neck, voice low. “God, you’re so hot when you do that.”
‧₊ ᵎᵎ 🍒 ⋅ ˚✮‧₊ ᵎᵎ 🍒 ⋅ ˚✮‧₊ ᵎᵎ 🍒 ⋅ ˚✮‧₊ ᵎᵎ 🍒 ⋅ ˚✮
𝐫𝐚𝐜𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐛𝐮𝐥𝐥𝐬
𝐢𝐬𝐚𝐜𝐤 𝐡𝐚𝐝𝐣𝐚𝐫 - Isack is already halfway jealous before the guy at the gym even opens his mouth. You’re mid set when someone comments a little too confidently, and Isack immediately straightens, towel draped over his shoulders like a challenge. He steps closer to you, hand settling at your lower back, eyes sharp. “She’s busy,” he says coolly. You bite back a smile, finishing your reps before teasing, “You know I can handle myself, right?” He smirks, eyes dark, leaning in. “I know,” he murmurs. “Doesn’t mean I’ll let them try.” You laugh softly, heart warm. “You’re ridiculous.” He kisses your temple. “Later,” he says quietly, “I’ll remind you why you’re mine.”
𝐥𝐢𝐚𝐦 𝐥𝐚𝐰𝐬𝐨𝐧 - You never get jealous — ever — which is why the reporter flirting blatantly with Liam right in front of you feels less like insecurity and more like disrespect. She laughs too loudly, touches his arm, and you step in without missing a beat. “We done here?” you ask sweetly, eyes never leaving hers. Liam’s lips twitch, barely holding back a grin. The reporter stumbles through an excuse and leaves, and Liam turns to you, openly amused. “That was impressive,” he says. You shrug. “I don’t play.” He pulls you in by the waist, pressing a kiss to your temple. “I love watching you handle things,” he admits. “It's cute.”
‧₊ ᵎᵎ 🍒 ⋅ ˚✮‧₊ ᵎᵎ 🍒 ⋅ ˚✮‧₊ ᵎᵎ 🍒 ⋅ ˚✮‧₊ ᵎᵎ 🍒 ⋅ ˚✮
𝐟𝐞𝐫𝐫𝐚𝐫𝐢
𝐥𝐞𝐰𝐢𝐬 𝐡𝐚𝐦𝐢𝐥𝐭𝐨𝐧 - Lewis almost never gets jealous — he’s too secure, too self assured for that — so when someone’s attention lingers on you a second too long, you barely notice it. He does. There’s no reaction in public, no interruption, just a calm hand at your lower back and a quiet, “It's getting a bit late. You ready, doll?” later than usual. It’s only once you’re alone that he finally speaks, voice low, controlled. “Didn't appreciate his eyes all over you,” he murmurs, eyes steady on yours. You smile, amused. “Oh? Didn't notice.” He steps closer, presence overwhelming without effort. “'M sure you didn't, love,” he says softly — and that night, he reminds you why you will always be his.
𝐜𝐡𝐚𝐫𝐥𝐞𝐬 𝐥𝐞𝐜𝐥𝐞𝐫𝐜 - You and Charles are solid — secure, playful, unbothered — until date night takes a turn when the waitress starts leaning a little too close. Her compliments linger, her smile a little too practiced, and Charles looks to you, already amused, already knowing. You meet her eyes calmly and say, “We’re fine, thank you,” with a smile that isn’t actually kind. Charles bites his lip to keep from laughing. When she leaves, you turn to him, tilting your head. “You’re in trouble later,” you say, winking. He grins, leaning across the table. “I’ll gladly accept my punishment.” His knee nudges yours. “Worth it.”
‧₊ ᵎᵎ 🍒 ⋅ ˚✮‧₊ ᵎᵎ 🍒 ⋅ ˚✮‧₊ ᵎᵎ 🍒 ⋅ ˚✮‧₊ ᵎᵎ 🍒 ⋅ ˚✮
𝐚𝐥𝐩𝐢𝐧𝐞
𝐩𝐢𝐞𝐫𝐫𝐞 𝐠𝐚𝐬𝐥𝐲 - Pierre doesn’t really do jealousy — it just doesn’t stick to him — but Franco talking to you? That’s different. He watches from across the room as Franco laughs too loud, leans a bit too close, and Pierre casually walks over, slipping an arm around your waist. “Hey,” he says easily, kissing your temple like it’s the most natural thing in the world. You smile, leaning into him, and Franco immediately gets the message. Later, you tease Pierre. “You jealous?” He shrugs, smirking. “Not jealous.” He squeezes your waist. “Just reminding him.”
𝐟𝐫𝐚𝐧𝐜𝐨 𝐜𝐨𝐥𝐚𝐩𝐢𝐧𝐭𝐨 - You’ve always known Franco flirts — it’s practically a reflex — and you don’t mind because you know exactly who he comes home with. But when a girl takes it too far, assuming things she absolutely shouldn’t, you step in without hesitation. “¿Estás loca o qué?” you snap, eyes sharp, putting her firmly in her place. Franco watches the entire thing with a slow, delighted smirk, arms crossed, clearly enjoying himself. When she leaves, he leans down, voice teasing. “¿Vas a castigarme, mami?” You roll your eyes, pushing his chest lightly. “You’re unbelievable.” He laughs softly. “But you love me.” And you already know exactly how you’ll handle him later.
(¿Estás loca o qué? = Are you crazy or what? + ¿Vas a castigarme, mami? = Are you going to punish me? )
‧₊ ᵎᵎ 🍒 ⋅ ˚✮‧₊ ᵎᵎ 🍒 ⋅ ˚✮‧₊ ᵎᵎ 🍒 ⋅ ˚✮‧₊ ᵎᵎ 🍒 ⋅ ˚✮
𝐰𝐢𝐥𝐥𝐢𝐚𝐦𝐬
𝐜𝐚𝐫𝐥𝐨𝐬 𝐬𝐚𝐢𝐧𝐳 - Carlos is incredibly secure — he knows he’s attractive, knows people look, but he also knows his heart has been yours for a long time. He notices immediately when you get riled up, eyes sharp as someone flirts a little too openly with him. Instead of stopping it, he lets it play out for a moment, watching you with clear amusement. Later, though, when you’re alone, his tone softens completely. “Hey,” he says quietly, hands warm on your waist. “You okay, amor?” You shrug, suddenly less fiery. He tilts your chin up, eyes sincere. “I don’t want anyone else. Ever.” And he spends the rest of the night making sure you feel loved, chosen, and completely secure in that truth.
𝐚𝐥𝐞𝐱 𝐚𝐥𝐛𝐨𝐧 - Alex is calm to a fault, so when jealousy hits him, it comes out… oddly. He gets quieter, a little more clingy without realizing it, hovering just a bit too close. You catch on immediately, smiling. “Are you jealous?” you tease. He scratches the back of his neck, sheepish. “Maybe?” You laugh softly, pulling him into a hug, kissing his cheek. “You’re adorable,” you murmur. He relaxes instantly, arms wrapping around you, relief written all over his face. “I just really love you,” he admits. You grin. “Good. I really love you too.”
‧₊ ᵎᵎ 🍒 ⋅ ˚✮‧₊ ᵎᵎ 🍒 ⋅ ˚✮‧₊ ᵎᵎ 🍒 ⋅ ˚✮‧₊ ᵎᵎ 🍒 ⋅ ˚✮
𝐡𝐚𝐚𝐬
𝐨𝐥𝐥𝐢𝐞 𝐛𝐞𝐚𝐫𝐦𝐚𝐧 - Ollie’s usually all energy and smiles, so when he goes quiet after seeing you talking with Kimi, it’s impossible to miss. He doesn’t say anything — just sticks close, laugh softer, eyes thoughtful the rest of the day. That night in the hotel, he finally breaks. “I’m sorry,” he says quietly, sitting beside you. “I didn’t mean to shut down. I just… got in my head.” You soften immediately, pulling him into your arms. “Hey,” you whisper. “You don’t lose me that easily.” He exhales, clinging to you like he needs the reassurance. “I know,” he murmurs. “I just need you.” And you give him all the affection he didn’t know how to ask for.
𝐞𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐛𝐚𝐧 𝐨𝐜𝐨𝐧 - You and Esteban are anchored, mature, deeply content — so when a girl at the club gets a little too handsy, you don’t explode. You just go quiet. Esteban notices instantly. Back at the hotel, he cups your face gently. “Mon cœur,” he murmurs. “Talk to me.” You admit it bothered you, even if you trust him completely. He nods, listening, pressing a soft kiss to your forehead. “I’m yours,” he says simply. “Only you.” You relax into him, warmth spreading through your chest. “Je sais,” you whisper. He smiles, holding you close. “Toujours,” he promises.
(Je sais = I know, Toujours = Always)
‧₊ ᵎᵎ 🍒 ⋅ ˚✮‧₊ ᵎᵎ 🍒 ⋅ ˚✮‧₊ ᵎᵎ 🍒 ⋅ ˚✮‧₊ ᵎᵎ 🍒 ⋅ ˚✮
𝐬𝐚𝐮𝐛𝐞𝐫
𝐠𝐚𝐛𝐫𝐢𝐞𝐥 𝐛𝐨𝐫𝐭𝐨𝐥𝐞𝐭𝐨 - Gabi is usually carefree, laughing, teasing, completely unbothered — until he notices someone standing a little too close to you, voice low in a way that makes your shoulders tense. He’s at your side instantly, arms wrapping around your waist like it’s instinct, chin resting lightly on your shoulder. “Tudo bem?” he asks softly, eyes flicking to the guy with a polite but unmistakable warning. You relax immediately, leaning back into him. Later, you tease him for how fast he moved. He grins, unapologetic. “I don’t get jealous,” he says easily. “But I don’t let anyone make you uncomfortable either.” Then he presses a kiss to your neck, affectionate and sure, like that settles everything.
𝐧𝐢𝐜𝐨 𝐡ü𝐥𝐤𝐞𝐧𝐛𝐞𝐫𝐠 - Nico never gets jealous — he’s far too secure for that — and he watches with quiet amusement when a woman flirts with him a little too confidently. He doesn’t encourage it, doesn’t shut it down either, just glances over at you, already knowing what’s coming. You step in smoothly, calm but firm, making it very clear who he belongs to. Nico has to bite back a smile. Later, he wraps an arm around you, murmuring, “You know I only see you, right?” You tilt your head. “I know.” He chuckles softly, kissing your temple. “Still,” he adds, clearly pleased, “I like when you're all riled up.”
‧₊ ᵎᵎ 🍒 ⋅ ˚✮‧₊ ᵎᵎ 🍒 ⋅ ˚✮‧₊ ᵎᵎ 🍒 ⋅ ˚✮‧₊ ᵎᵎ 🍒 ⋅ ˚✮
𝐫𝐞𝐭𝐢𝐫𝐞𝐝 𝐝𝐫𝐢𝐯𝐞𝐫𝐬
𝐝𝐚𝐧𝐢𝐞𝐥 𝐫𝐢𝐜𝐜𝐢𝐚𝐫𝐝𝐨 - You and Daniel are so laid back it almost feels unshakeable — someone flirts, one of you laughs it off, and you both somehow end up back together without a word. His arm finds your waist, your hand slips into his, natural as breathing. But every once in a while, something sparks and you get fired up, eyes sharp, tone unmistakable. Daniel notices immediately and has to bite back a grin. “Oh,” he murmurs later, clearly entertained, “there she is.” You roll your eyes, still heated. He just pulls you in closer, voice warm and amused. “Relax, love. You’ve already reminded everyone that I am yours.” And he makes sure you know exactly how much he enjoys it.
𝐣𝐞𝐧𝐬𝐨𝐧 𝐛𝐮𝐭𝐭𝐨𝐧 - Jenson never tries to make you jealous — he doesn’t need to — but he knows the moment a woman approaches him, you’re already clocking it. You step in smoothly, hand sliding over his arm, voice calm but unmistakably possessive. Jenson watches it all with quiet satisfaction, eyes soft, lips curved in a knowing smile. Later, when you catch him looking particularly pleased, you raise a brow. “Enjoying yourself?” He hums. “Very much.” He leans in, voice low. “I love when you remind me where I belong.” And you do — thoroughly.
𝐬𝐞𝐛𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐢𝐚𝐧 𝐯𝐞𝐭𝐭𝐞𝐥 - Sebastian is gentle, steady, always has been — and so are you — but sometimes insecurity sneaks in quietly. Especially when a younger man lingers a little too long, close to your age, smiling too easily. Sebastian doesn’t say anything right away, just grows quieter, thoughtful. You notice immediately, slipping your hand into his. “Hey,” you murmur later, forehead resting against his. “It’s always you.” He exhales, tension easing. “I know,” he says softly. “I just…” You smile, kissing his cheek. “Forever,” you whisper. He smiles back, relieved, holding you like he never plans to let go.
𝐤𝐢𝐦𝐢 𝐫ä𝐢𝐤𝐤ö𝐧𝐞𝐧 - Kimi’s presence alone is usually enough — cold, quiet, unreadable — and no one dares flirt with you when he’s nearby. On the rare occasion someone tries, it doesn’t last long. A single look from Kimi, a low, clipped “She’s with me,” and the guy is already backing away. You glance up at him later, amused. “You didn’t have to do that.” Kimi shrugs. “He should’ve known.” His hand tightens briefly at your waist, grounding, possessive. “Mine.” And that’s the end of it.
𝐧𝐢𝐜𝐨 𝐫𝐨𝐬𝐛𝐞𝐫𝐠 - Nico knows exactly what he has — a stunning, younger wife — and he takes undeniable pride in it. When someone flirts with you, he watches calmly at first, almost amused, letting it happen just long enough. Then he steps in, arm sliding around your shoulders, smile polite but unmistakably territorial. “Sorry,” he says smoothly. “She’s taken.” Later, you tease him about it. “You like that, don’t you?” He chuckles, pulling you closer. “I like reminding everyone,” he murmurs, “that you chose me.” And he makes sure you never forget why that choice was mutual.
‧₊ ᵎᵎ 🍒 ⋅ ˚✮‧₊ ᵎᵎ 🍒 ⋅ ˚✮‧₊ ᵎᵎ 🍒 ⋅ ˚✮‧₊ ᵎᵎ 🍒 ⋅ ˚✮
𝐭𝐞𝐚𝐦 𝐩𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐜𝐢𝐩𝐚𝐥𝐬
𝐭𝐨𝐭𝐨 𝐰𝐨𝐥𝐟𝐟 - Toto has always been possessive of you — not in a suffocating way, but in a way that makes you feel deeply wanted, chosen every single day. At the charity gala, he notices it instantly: a man lingering too close, voice too smooth as he asks your name. Before you can answer, Toto steps in beside you, hand settling firmly at your lower back. “Mrs. Wolff is her name." The man blinks, nods quickly, and retreats without another word. You look up at Toto, amused, eyes warm. “That was smooth,” you murmur, kissing his cheek. Toto smirks, leaning down to your ear. “I don’t share,” he says simply. And the way he holds you afterward makes sure you never doubt how much he means it.
𝐣𝐚𝐦𝐞𝐬 𝐯𝐨𝐰𝐥𝐞𝐬 - James is aware of the age gap more than he lets on — usually confident, steady — but something about seeing you and Carlos talking closely unsettles him. He excuses himself quietly, and it takes you a moment to realize he’s gone. You find him later in his office, standing by the window, hands clasped behind his back. “You disappeared,” you say softly. He turns, hesitating. “I just… needed a moment.” You cross the room immediately, taking his hands. “James,” you murmur, “there is no one else.” His shoulders ease as you speak, your words slow and deliberate. “I chose you. Every day.” He exhales, forehead resting against yours. “I know,” he says quietly. “I just needed to hear it.” You smile, pressing a kiss to his lips. “Anytime.”
𝐥𝐚𝐮𝐫𝐞𝐧𝐭 𝐦𝐞𝐤𝐢𝐞𝐬 - Laurent has always been calm, composed — proud to have you at his side, his brilliant, younger wife — and you are equally proud to be his. But when a woman near your age starts flirting a little too openly, something stirs inside of you. You approach smoothly, slipping beside Laurent, letting the light catch your ring as you rest your hand on his arm. “Mon mari,” you say sweetly, smiling just enough. The message lands immediately, and the girl excuses herself. Laurent watches her go, then looks at you with an amused glint in his eye. “Jalouse?” he asks softly. You lift your chin. “A little.” He chuckles, pulling you closer. “Ma chérie,” he murmurs, kissing your temple, “you wear it beautifully.” And the way he holds your hand the rest of the night tells everyone exactly who he belongs to.
‧₊ ᵎᵎ 🍒 ⋅ ˚✮‧₊ ᵎᵎ 🍒 ⋅ ˚✮‧₊ ᵎᵎ 🍒 ⋅ ˚✮‧₊ ᵎᵎ 🍒 ⋅ ˚✮
𝐰𝐨𝐦𝐞𝐧 𝐨𝐟 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐩𝐚𝐝𝐝𝐨𝐜𝐤
𝐥𝐢𝐥𝐲 𝐳 - Lily is quiet, reserved, and a little shy, so when girls approach you, you feel her tension immediately. She doesn’t say anything at first — just stays close, fingers lightly hooking into your sleeve. You smile and smoothly loop an arm around her waist. “This is my girlfriend, Lily,” you say warmly. Lily’s cheeks pink instantly, but her shoulders relax, eyes softening as she smiles shyly. Later, she murmurs, “You didn’t have to do that.” You kiss her forehead. “I like to show you off, my love.” She squeezes your hand, insecurity completely gone.
𝐥𝐢𝐥𝐲 𝐦𝐮𝐧𝐢 𝐡𝐞 - Neither of you are the jealous type — you’re secure, playful, proud of each other — but after her tournament, you notice a girl lingering a little too close, hand resting on Lily’s arm. You step in casually, smiling. “Ready, pretty?” Lily glances at you, instantly clocking the tone. She smirks, nodding. “Yeah,” she says easily, then leans in and kisses you without hesitation. The girl freezes, then steps away. Lily laughs softly once you’re alone. “You’re cute when you do that.” You grin. “Back at you.”
𝐤𝐞𝐥𝐥𝐲 𝐩𝐢𝐪𝐮𝐞𝐭 - Kelly has always been protective — never jealous, just deeply aware of your comfort. When a guy at the club tries to pull you onto the dance floor and you stiffen, Kelly is there immediately. She kisses you quickly, confidently, hands firm at your hips, unmistakable. The guy backs off instantly. Kelly leans in, voice low. “You okay?” You nod, heart racing. She smiles, brushing your hair back. “Good.” The rest of the night, she stays close, grounding, possessive in the way that makes you feel completely safe.
𝐚𝐥𝐞𝐱𝐚𝐧𝐝𝐫𝐚 𝐬𝐚𝐢𝐧𝐭 𝐦𝐥𝐞𝐮𝐱 - Alexandra is magnetic — people are always drawn to her — and you try to hide your jealousy when someone approaches, clinging just a little closer. She notices every time. With a polite smile, she waves them off. “Pardon,” she says softly. Then she turns to you, amused. “Mon amour,” she murmurs, brushing her thumb over your hand, “you get adorable when you’re jealous.” You scoff. “I’m not jealous.” She laughs quietly, kissing your cheek. “Bien sûr.” And she doesn’t let anyone interrupt you again.
𝐜𝐚𝐫𝐦𝐞𝐧 𝐦𝐮𝐧𝐝𝐭 - You and Carmen are so clearly each other’s that jealousy almost never exists. The way you stand together, touch casually, laugh easily — everyone knows. And if someone doesn’t? You make it clear. Carmen slips an arm around your waist, smiling sweetly. “This is my partner,” she says. You squeeze her hand. There’s no tension, no insecurity — just confidence and mutual devotion.
𝐤𝐢𝐤𝐚 𝐠𝐨𝐦𝐞𝐬 - Kika is breathtaking — everyone wants her — but she’s hopelessly obsessed with you. When someone approaches her, she lights up immediately. “My girlfriend is amazing,” she says without missing a beat. “She’s right there.” She drags you into the conversation proudly, arm tight around you. Later, you tease her. “You don’t even hesitate.” She laughs, kissing your cheek. “Why would I?” she asks. “You’re mine.”
𝐫𝐞𝐛𝐞𝐜𝐜𝐚 𝐝𝐨𝐧𝐚𝐥𝐝𝐬𝐨𝐧 - Rebecca loves deeply — intensely — and jealousy slips out even when she tries to hide it. When someone flirts with you, she makes a sharp comment under her breath, eyes narrowed. You laugh softly, leaning into her. “What am I going to do with you?” you tease. She exhales, wrapping her arms around you. “I just don’t like sharing,” she mutters. You kiss her cheek. “Good thing you don’t have to.” She relaxes instantly, holding you like that’s all she ever wants.
𝐟𝐥𝐚𝐯𝐲 𝐛𝐚𝐫𝐥𝐚 - Flavy is pure sweetness — she often mistakes flirting for friendliness, smiling politely until she’s clearly overwhelmed. You step in gently, slipping an arm around her shoulders. “Hi,” you say warmly. “I’m her girlfriend.” The message lands immediately, and the person excuses themselves. Flavy exhales in relief, turning to you. “Thank you,” she murmurs, before showering you with soft kisses. “I didn’t know how to leave.” You smile, holding her close. “That’s what I’m here for.”
𝐬𝐮𝐬𝐢𝐞 𝐰𝐨𝐥𝐟𝐟 - Susie genuinely believes you’re extraordinary — and she understands exactly why people are drawn to you. She’s never threatened, only proud. She introduces you everywhere with a warm smile. “This is my wife.” Her hand squeezes yours, eyes shining. Later, she murmurs, “I love showing you off.” You laugh softly. “You don’t mind?” She shakes her head, kissing your knuckles. “Never,” she says. “You chose me.” And that’s all that matters.
pairing: ollie bearman, andrea kimi antonelli, isack hadjar, gabriel bortoleto x press correspondent!fem!reader
summary: work and pleasure… they say to never mix it. but those fan-gifted chocolates changed your lives. and with summer break coming, the boys get a little creative with a beach getaway. PT.1 HERE!
warnings: fluff, poor humour, consumption of aphrodisiacs in the end, 18+ (minors dni), unprotected sex, assumed consent via all, eating out, fingering, breastplay, teasing, hand jobs, blow jobs (all the jobs idk man), p in v, mutual orgasms, fivesome?, serious overstimulation, choking, squirting lots and LOTS of degradation, hair pulling, name calling, slapping, dom-sub dynamics, in order: kitchen sex, bed sex, shower sex, kinda public changing room sex, lowkey angsty towards the end, little glimpses of aftercare // poorly proof read as usual
word count: 11k
a/n: okay so the highly requested part 2 of keep you high! soooo many people requested one so i figured it was only fair for this celebration! filthiest thing i've written in ages tho. so yeah. like 6 smut pieces in one. you're welcome. enjoy ♡︎
To say things had become dangerous after Barcelona was an understatement. Those fan-gifted aphrodisiac chocolates had changed all five of your lives forever. No passing look at each other was quite the same as it was. Nor the brushing of anyone's fingers.
After coming down from the heat and lust-haze, you had all agreed to explore this a little further because this was obviously not just because of the chocolates. At some point across the time you had been working with the boys, you had felt something.
And now you were like rabbits. It was the only way to put it. Everywhere, at any given time, you were being whisked away somewhere by someone.
Isack in the gym, convincing himself that fucking you stupid burned far more calories and worked out way more muscles than any workout his trainer would give him.
Gabi having you in his driver's room, desperately needing to feel your mouth around his cock, risking everything through those thin walls.
Kimi sneaking into your hotel room when he found out how bloody good your tits looked in your pyjamas.
And Ollie who would pull you aside after his media duties, making up any excuse to be inside you. To touch you. Feel you. Though you were sure he didn’t really need any.
And when you all came together... it was an artwork of mess. Hours upon hours of mess. Soaking sheets. Sweaty skin. Sounds beyond your wildest dreams. Limits tested. Kinks discovered.
Things, however, had come to a halt after fans became a little too suspicious of all five of you. Sourcing out different photos with you and each driver, claiming you were dating.
Well... the truth was that you had no idea what you were. A group of friends who fucked? Maybe against some social construct, this was all unconventional. But you weren't sure if it mattered that much.
Whatever it was you had, as the press correspondent, it was your job to put those rumours to an end. The memo to keep calm and back off hadn't been particularly well received by the boys. Of course, it was your job at stake rather than theirs. That's when you had suggested a beach getaway to the tropics. If they kept their hands to themselves till the break, those very hands would have the pleasure to go anywhere they'd like for one week.
So here you were, standing outside some lavish house you had all pitched in to rent. The sun was glowing and the smell of salt lingered in the air from the nearby shores. White crystal sands glimmered under the sweltering heat. And any neighbours miles down the shore.
"Now this is what I call a holiday," Gabi nodded with approval as you entered the house, Ollie pushing your suitcase right behind you. An open living space, multiple bedrooms, plenty of sunlight... yes, he could get behind this.
You almost sighed at the sight of the large couch, soft pillows calling your name instantly. "Why can't it be summer break forever?" You groaned, flopping onto the couch with no decorum whatsoever, back relaxing as though you had been carrying a heavy weight for years.
Ollie shook his head, grin wide on his face as he watched your arms wrap around a nearby pillow. "You make it sound like you're the one driving our cars," he said, amusement apparent on his face.
You peeked an eye open, gaze narrowing as Kimi took a seat right next to you, arm sung over your waist. "You guys have no idea how difficult you make my life. It's like a warzone out there every other day. Kimi this, Isack that, Gabi here. And you," you pointed to Ollie. "I told you to quit staring during interviews."
"Oh and that's the biggest crime I've committed," Ollie retorted dryly, rolling his eyes, knowing damn well he had done far worse.
Isack tilted his head at you, squatting down near the couch to meet your eyes. "Don't start acting so innocent either, chérie. How many more shorts and tight jeans are you gonna wear, hmm? Poor Kimi's always rubbing one out before every practice," he murmured, tucking a strand of your hair behind your ear.
You pursed your lips, legs shifting to press against one another while you struggled to peel your eyes away from Isack. You could hear Kimi grunt in agreement, sound muffled with his lips against your shoulder, fingers already beginning to creep. God, you had barely been on holiday for a hot five minutes and moves were already being made.
You sucked in a sharp breath, pushing yourself off the couch, startling the boys. "Dibs the biggest room. And don't you neanderthals even think about sharing it," you huffed, arms folded before you turned on your heel and walked towards the stairs, feeling the numerous eyes watch your every move.
Gabi gave his friends a blank look as he finally moved his eyes away from your hips. "Smooth, guys. Really smooth," he deadpanned.
Isack stood up, eyes rolling. "Speak for yourself. You’re literally hard right now," he pointed out, head shaking.
Ollie looked between the four of them, cogs starting to churn. When had everyone including him become so desperate? It's like they couldn’t function without you anymore. Your breath theirs. Their touch yours. They were the literal definition of simpletons.
"We have a week here," Ollie started with a small exhale, fingers curling round the handle of your suitcase. "Let's not get too crazy, yeah? Can't tire her out already."
Sure, the five of you were here with one idea in mind. But relaxing was still part of the equation. It was a holiday after all. Not a sex fest.
Kimi nodded from the couch. "Agreed. Turns towards the middle of the week?"
Isack tipped his head. "Sounds good."
The first day had gone surprisingly quiet. Despite the endless flirting and innuendos spilled, all five of you were able to enjoy time together without being so handsy. Making dinner with just the light tipped fingers of Ollie's on your waist and Gabi's lingering kisses on the side of your head. Passing stupid jokes and stories around the table. Upsetting Kimi when you all purposely butchered the names of different pasta dishes.
It was... sweet?
So sweet you shouldn't have let your guard down. But you had.
Ollie and Gabi had gone out to for a quick breakfast run seeing as you had finished all the bare ingredients you had brought on the way to the rental. Kimi was still fast asleep and Isack you assumed was working out.
So you sat next to the kitchen island, still waking up with the rental's coffee in hand. You almost cried from how peaceful the morning seemed to be. No emails. Well, least nothing urgent. No phone calls from the team. No racing. Just the feel of sunlight and the coldness of the marble counter beneath you.
Pure bliss.
You blinked, lifting your head from the counter as the door closed shut. "Morning, Isack," you smiled, shamelessly watching the shine of sweat on his tanned skin and carved muscles. You knew he usually worked out shirtless but Lord...
You were the one complaining about the boys before but right now... you weren't any better than them.
Isack returned the gesture, taking his headphones out of his ears and tossing them on the nearby couch before nearing you. “Morning, chérie," he murmured, kissing the side of your head.
You swallowed as he took your cup of coffee, swivelling it so his lips drank from the same spot as you did while his other hand rested over your hip. The heat seemed to radiate from him instantly, skin so warm it bothered you through the thin fabric of your pyjamas. You breathed in, pressing your legs together, hoping he wouldn’t notice.
Isack contained his grin, placing the cup down. "Sleep well?"
"Yeah... it was... it was good." You nodded absentmindedly, unable to look away from those stupid goddamn muscles. You weren't sure if they existed but Algerian Gods... Greek Gods, whatever they were called. It was like he had been carved like one. A slick trail of sweat on those washboard abs, veins tight around biceps and shorts hung almost too low on his hips.
He smiled, amused. "That's good," he said, running a hand through his hair. He hummed quietly, dark eyes trailing over you carefully. "I need to go for a shower," he sighed, head shaking. "But it's a little hard when you keep eye-fucking me, chérie."
You gave him a resigned look. "What am I supposed to do when you look like that?" You grumbled.
A chuckled tipped from Isack's lips, hand moving from your hip to your knee. He tapped once. "Open up, baby. Show me what I'm doing to you."
Isack groaned softly at the damp patch in the middle of those thin little shorts. His hand moved, thumbing the wet fabric. "Look at you," he teased, your immediate whimpers music to his ears. "My pretty little slut. Turned on just from looking at me. How pathetic are you, chérie?"
Your lips jutted into a pout, heat beginning to spread through your skin. "Isack, please," you murmured, squirming on your stool while your fingers danced over his v-line.
He swallowed at the dizzying traces. "You know how it works," he grunted out, pressing into your clothed cunt. "Tell me what you want, and you'll get it like the good whore you are."
The words came bubbling from your mouth without a second thought. "I want your cock, Isack. Please. Till I'm shaking," you breathed.
The tear of your shorts was deafening across the house, echoing and rebounding off the walls. You had not a chance to complain about the large hole across your wet cunt as Isack barely pulled his shorts down, rubbing his hard cock against your dripping folds, gathering all the slick he could around his angry head.
"Oh fuck," you gasped, body jolting at the push of his cock on your clit, heat unfurling in your stomach instantly. The tease had you impatient, yet the lewd sound of lathering kept you wanting more.
"So fucking wet for me, chérie," Isack breathed heavily, one hand moving to your jaw while the other shifted your body closer against him. The grin on his face was heavy as he prodded his tip around your entrance, dark eyes flickering to yours. "Want my cock? Does my pretty little slut wanna feel something? Yeah?"
You nodded desperately, face rigid against the grip of his hand. "Please, Isa. I want it so bad."
Isack wasn't sure what really dissolved his restraint. Your desperation or the nickname you had given. So sweet sounding, wrapped in a plea. What a sinful sound that was.
You whimpered as his hips moved, thick cock pushing and still stretching your walls out despite the number of times you had felt him there. Your hand shot out to his forearm, gasping deeply when he took once long stroke back before pushing back in to start his rhythm.
Nothing about it was slow or careful. You had asked to be fucked till you shook. And he was keeping the promise.
His craft was brutal by all means. Mercilessly pounding against you, balls deep and flushed against you. The sound of skin slapping upon one another had become so loud so quick, it was a wonder Kimi hadn't already woken up. He had seized your voice entirely, leaving you unable to explain strikes of pleasure coursing through you.
"Couldn't wait, could you?" Isack rasped, pushing his thumb into your mouth, groaning when he felt the tip of your tongue circle it. He chuckled. "You always act like we're so desperate. But you're just as bad as us. Wet over nothing. I bet you even dream about this. Being fucked so often. One after another. You like this as much as we do."
Your brows furrowed at his words, poised with remark when he removed his thumb. But any futile rebuttal was silenced as his thumb trailed down the column of your throat. The thin air in your lungs burned while he pressed into you deeper, small curve of his cock pressing against that perfect spongy part of you.
"Oh yeah... that's it right there, huh?" Isack grinned, watching you sink your teeth into your bottom lip harshly, your pupils blown wide. His hand on your hip shifted you once again, hooking one leg around his back while you fell against the edge of the kitchen island. It would've been uncomfortable if it wasn't for the sheer tingles of heat wavering over you with every deep thrust.
"You gonna cum already? Are you that desperate, my pretty girl?" He taunted, feeling your walls tighten around him at his words. Jesus Christ… “Go on then. It won't be the only one," he grunted, thumb pressing a little tighter on your airway.
You writhed against his grasp, pleasure searing right through you, leaving you seeing white as your body convulsed. It felt like the air had been knocked out of your lungs, fingers digging into his forearms, eyes rolling hard.
Isack moved his thumb off your neck, letting the air rush back right into your flushed face as he pulled out of you for a brief second, turning you so your cheeks laid flat against the kitchen island. The curses tipped from his lips, one after another as he sunk back into you, filling you right to the hilt. "Putain," he swore, breaths uneven.
Whether it was the sixth or the sixteenth time, every time he was in you it felt like the first. So warm and tight. Walls gripping him like there was no tomorrow. How were you so perfect for him?
His thick hands fell to your waist, snug and fitting as his hips sped up once again, not giving you another chance to recuperate. He rutted against you, mouth falling to your clothed back, stifling every unstable moan with his kisses.
It was unsanitary by all means. Having you like this. Against the counter where food was made and eaten. Skin partially stuck together, the squelch of your arousal combining; his balls slapping against you as he pressed deeper into you.
But Isack loved it.
He loved how gone you looked already. How every part of your body demanded more despite being so sensitive, pulling him further into you.
Your knees almost faltered when you felt his hand inch towards your clit, rubbing in circles. It was only his arm, shifting around your waist to keep you up. "Yes, Isack," you mewled, eyes shut tight, bitten lips swollen. "F-Faster—ngh! Faster."
His eyes rolled at your satisfied moans. Because there it was. The true marking of who you were. No coy mask to cover up the slut inside.
You could feel it coming already, body still reeling from the previous orgasm. Your fingers curled tightly around the counter's edge, moans becoming louder and louder till your mouth fell open and you turned completely silent.
Isack's grunts became rougher with every passing second, unable to control himself with the sheer tightness of you around him as your body locked up. His hips faltered and stuttered against you, ropes of his cum spilling into you, hot and fast.
For a brief moment, you thought that was it. Your heavy pants filling the air.
But Isack hadn't quite fulfilled his promise yet.
You whimpered at the sudden loss of him inside you, fumbling as he turned you back around, thick, veined hands spreading your legs apart. The groan from his lips was guttural, dark eyes falling to the spill of white mess slowing pouring out of you.
He didn't say a word. Attaching his mouth to your puffy folds without a second thought, tongue lapping up the taste of your slick and his combined.
Your head fell back, mouth open, eyes wide. Your thighs tensed around his head, so sensitive and yet you couldn't help but want more. Your hand flew to his hair, pushing yourself deeper as his big nose slid up exactly where you wanted. "Oh fuck," you moaned.
Isack grunted against you, sound reverberating through your core, tongue prodding your hole with a filthy amount of invasion before moving to your clit.
Your heart almost sank at the press of his fingers into your cunt, perfectly thick and curled to press right against the spongy part of you. You squirmed against him, heat unfurling with singes of pain. The insistent suckling of his lips over your clit was unlike anything you could describe. Heaven and hell. Evil and good.
"Again. Come on, chérie. I know you want to. A whore like you always wants to. I can feel it," he moaned, voice muffled.
Your body burned at his words, fingers speeding up inside you. Your breath shook in disbelief, hips rising up at the narrowing pleasure building and building. "I-Isack. I... oh my God," you sobbed, core tightening when he pushed deeper.
And it happened. The release crackling over you like lightning. As if a dam had been broken, warm gushes of liquid spurting out of you uncontrollably. It was obscene. On your thighs. On the island. On your stool. And most importantly, on Isack.
The sound Isack made was nothing short of animalistic, mouth wide and tongue lapping every single drop he could get as his fingers coaxed it all. This was what he had wanted. You shaking hard against him. Unable to think. So lust-ridden you were unable to breathe.
You shuddered with the last few swipes of his tongue, thin sheets of sweat covering your body as you looked down at Isack. You swallowed at the sight of his smirk, watching him lean back up with a satisfied sigh.
"Probably should go for my actual shower now, hmm?" Isack teased, fingers still on your thighs. “Care to join?"
Kimi was only passing by your room on pure accident. He could've sworn it. It wasn't his fault that he was intrigued by your endless number of bikinis and swimsuits. Or the fact you were trying them on. But if he had known it'd lead to this, he would’ve entered a lot sooner.
Your hand tightened around the mop of brown curls, stark naked on your bed as Kimi's mouth sucked and tugged every soft tissue of your breast he could find. One hand groped the other, while the other hand roamed your bare thigh, hips rutting against you like a maniac.
"I missed these so much," Kimi gasped, his saliva shining all over your tits, bite marks indented in the most mischievous of corners. "How could you have asked to keep these away from me?"
You only moaned in response, cunt clenching down hard around his cock. God, he felt so good. Every glide in you with a perfectly crafted pace exclusive to him.
"Don't you think you should apologise?" Kimi grunted, lifting his head up, brown eyes falling to you. His fingers reached for your nipple, pinching ever so tightly. "Do you see what wrong you've done, belle?"
You whimpered at the small strike of pain, eyes flitting to his. "I... I..." You could barely form a coherent sentence, too fixated on how flushed Kimi was to you, pubic bone grinding against the hood of your clit with every push.
A grin formed onto his face. "What was that? I don't speak teasing slut," he spat, twisting your nipple as he pushed deeper into you, bed creaking underneath you.
Your back arched at the action, teeth sinking into your bottom lip. Your stomach churned at the pleasure shooting through your body, free hand reaching out to grab the pillow nearby, knuckles white. "I... I'm sor—oh fuck," you moaned at the impossible pain surging through your chest, leaving you writhing.
"'I... I..' What?" Kimi mocked, fingers releasing your nipple only to come swatting down on your tits. He chuckled at the sorry noise falling from your lips. Even worse was the louder squelch of your cunt. God, you were so simple. So easy. So perfect. "Look at you. How pathetic do you get? Even wetter from being slapped silly."
"I'm sorry," you finally croaked, humiliation burning your skin like wildfire.
"Yeah?" He heaved; cockiness ever present as he groped your reddened tit harshly. "You're sorry? Do you understand what you did? You think you even deserve to cum after that?"
Your brows mended almost instantly at the thought of being denied any sort of pleasure. “Kimi, no. Please. Please don't do that," you stuttered, eyes rolling at the slower, deeper thrusts he gave you, cock nudging every inch of your walls.
"You should've thought about it, belle. Every race, every practice... you walked into the paddock. Tight shirt, tight pants. Do you have any idea how many times I came those days? All to keep a low profile and now you pull shit like this," he huffed, placing his lips onto your neck, sloppy kisses trailing down.
Your hips jerked at his words. "Kimi... I can't," you breathed shakily, cunt clamping down around him, leaving him hissing.
The string of Italian curse words were audible as his body hovered over yours, teeth biting down onto your bare shoulder. Jesus Christ, you were like a siren. And not the good kind people talked about. The ones in the myths. Dangerous. A guide to his demise.
Because he knew... he knew he shouldn't have gave in. But the pleasure was clouding Kimi's mind. His cock throbbing with need. Lower stomach tingling. The feel of your tits and nipples against his body driving him crazy.
So he let you.
"Oh fuck!" You cried out, vision searing white as you came hard around Kim's cock. Your chest heaved, lungs burning with the need for air.
And for a split second, Kimi almost came undone too.
But he grasped his composure. Pulling out of you, albeit begrudgingly. He flitted his eyes to your faded gaze, flushed skin, and glossed eyes. Oh how pretty you looked.
"On your knees," Kimi barked out with a heavy swallow, cock standing tall and hard against his stomach. He watched you scramble quickly, mattress dipping at your haste. He heaved, nodding with content.
It was stupid for him to even try standing on your bed. But he was so desperate. Hand firmly attached to the head of your bed, his cock, shining with your slick, sliding down your jaw before slotting itself between your reddened tits. His knees almost faltered at the sight alone.
He spoke, voice tight and strained, "Make me cum."
You swallowed tightly at the lewd pulse in your cunt. There was nothing to blame but yourself this time. No aphrodisiac chocolates. No nothing. The humiliation was so clear. But so was your nature.
Kimi's fingers tightened almost instantly as your hands fell around your tits, pressing them close to his aching cock. "Oh fuck," he cursed with disbelief, watching the ample tissue coat his shaft. Up and down. So controlled. So perfect it made his hips jerk.
And there was only one thing that could make it any better.
You whimpered at the strings of saliva spreading across your chest, following them back up to Kimi's mouth. Your legs pressed together instantly. For fuck's sake... how horny were you?
Kimi's lips quirked at the sight. Shiny tits now rubbing against his cock. Oh how he had dreamed about this. Time and time again. In his driver's room, one hand down his pants. But this was so much better. He could see your clouded eyes and blown pupils. Raw, bitten lips.
"Oh my God," he whimpered, voice breaking with disbelief, hips beginning to move on their own in a perfectly aligned rhythm with you. His cheeks burned with desperation and embarrassment from how bad he needed to cum. The pleasure, all coiled in his stomach, now threatening to unravel.
Kimi thought he could last at least seven minutes more. But it was like he was watching you in slow motion. Pretty lips part, warm tongue darting out towards his tip, playing with his slit while your eyes focused on him.
Holy fuck.
How were you real?
"N-No," he shook his head rapidly, voice choked. "I can't," he panted, hand shooting out to his shaft, fisting himself urgently.
He couldn't get the image out of his head nor the sounds. Your small smile. Tongue teasing. Your eager pose, sitting and waiting for him to finish. The goading giggle...
"Oh, oh fuck!"
You had broken him entirely. Body stuttering with sharp waves of pleasure in every atom of his body, eyes clenched so tightly while his lips parted around a series of stressed grunts. His cum splattered over your tits, an abstract form of art, hot and warm.
Kimi's fingers uncurled from the head of your bed, knees falling to the mattress as his tongue laid flat against your tits, cleaning every bit up like it was his duty to do so. Moans slipping with every swipe till he was left breathing hard against your chest.
He lifted his hooded eyes to you, head shaking lightly despite the small smile on his face. "You're awful."
A late-night shower was what you had needed after a day of frolicking. Especially when everyone had settled for a barbeque for dinner. You hadn’t really thought about the smell of charcoal being embedded into your clothes.
Initially, you were far too tired to even try. But an hour into your sleep, you were wide awake, too paranoid about the smell. You could've sworn the charcoal had seeped into your goddamn skin. So you peeled out of bed and headed towards the bathroom.
You sat on the counter of the sink, sounds of water trickling in the background as you scrolled through your phone and waited for it to warm up a little. Even in the heat, you found it difficult to shower with ice cold water.
"Can't sleep?"
You blinked, hand flying to your chest as your heart pounded. You flitted your eyes to Gabi who rested upon the door frame, arms folded, boyish grin wide. "Jesus, Gabi. Are you trying to kill me?" You muttered, giving him a glare as you placed your phone down. "But yes. I can't sleep because of this goddamn charcoal. It is everywhere, I swear."
A chuckle fell from Gabi's lips as he pushed himself off the door. He inched closer towards you, each arm of his landing on either side of you, caging you in. He watched your throat bob a little, making him grin wider. He looked back up at you. "Can I join?"
You raised a brow, tilting your head while you narrowed your eyes. "I don't know what you're thinking but I'm showering," you muttered.
You knew these boys like the back of your hand. When they meant one thing, they always meant another.
He shrugged almost innocently. "So am I," he simply said, one arm moving to remove his shirt with one fell swoop.
You poked the inside of your cheek with your tongue, watching his hands creep towards your waist, hooking themselves to the hem of your shirt, pulling up as slowly as the sparking mischief in his eyes. You sighed, raising your arms defeatedly, hearing your shirt drop to the floor.
He heaved at the sight of your bare chest. Of course. You couldn't keep those pretty things cooped up all night, could you?
Gabi sunk to his knees, lips quietly attaching themselves to the side of your knee as he began to pull down your shorts, a new pair after what Isack had done to your previous ones.
Your breath shook silently, eyes following the graze of his fingers, finding your shorts joining the new pile of clothing building up. You smiled to yourself at the warm gaze watching you, lips softly working their way up to the inside of your thigh.
Rolling your eyes, you pushed him away with the press of your foot against his chest. "Everyone's asleep, Gabi," you reminded, hopping off the counter before taking off your underwear, grinning at the audible hitch in his breath.
Gabi followed your footsteps towards the shower. "I can be quiet, linda," he murmured, hand reaching out to trail over your bare waist, entranced at the trail of goosebumps appearing.
You turned, giving him a pointed look as you stepped into the shower backwards. "You're never quiet," you whispered teasingly, feeling the warm droplets of water begin to hit your skin.
He swallowed tightly, torn between which droplet to even follow. The one over your tits? Or the one hanging from your lips? Perhaps in between your legs?
He sucked in a sharp breath, grin faint on his face. "Let's test that theory, shall we?"
Your squeal was imminent as Gabi peeled off his boxers, inevitably drawing your eyes to the long length calling your name. Your steps were hesitant, making room for him while he came into the shower, crowding the small space with his body.
You shivered as his cold hands fell to your waist, rubbing over your ribcage and hips with refined restraint. His lips dipped down to your ear, voice thick over the sounds of water pelting. "Would I be wrong to think that the wetness I'll find between your legs right now isn't the water?"
Your lips parted, some lame refusal on the tip of your tongue but all in vain when you felt his slender fingers find your folds. The grin on his face told you what you needed to know, head falling to his chest at the smear of thick slick over your bundle of nerves.
Gabi chuckled softly at your whimper. "Once a slut..." He sighed, shaking his head with amusement. "... always a slut. Don't know why you even bother denying it, linda."
Your jaw hung open as his two fingers pushed into your cunt, rubbing your inner walls as he began setting his pace. "F-Fuck," you stuttered, toes curling against the shower floor, hand reaching out to steady yourself with his forearm.
He hushed you, so obviously enjoying your reactions already. "Shh. Gotta be quiet if you wanna cum, baby. Yeah? You gonna follow the rules?"
You nodded against his chest, walls clamping down around his fingers. They were so long. Reaching every crevice so easily, filling you up without even needing to push deeper. But he did. God, he did, curling smoothly, testing the gentle rub of the perfect area in your cunt.
Your teeth sunk into your bottom lip hard, trying to suppress any sound from escaping your throat.
Gabi chuckled against your ear. "That feel good? I bet it does. Probably what you wanted after making so much noise passing my room, huh?" He teased, brown eyes carefully watching every movement on your face.
Your nails dug into his forearm, hips grinding against his hand helplessly. The forbidden sounds all hidden away seemed to make your chest tight as his fingers speed up. It was making you delirious, soft mewls teeming from your sealed lips.
Your head snapped up at the sudden removal of Gabi's fingers, chest heaving while you almost frowned in disappointment. The sound of water filled your ears, in sync with the thudding heartbeat in your ears.
"I said not a sound, linda," Gabi tsked, shaking his head despite the amusement on his face. God, you looked so desperate it made his cock twitch. His free hand wrapped around your jaw, grip firm. His lowered his voice. "Now I'm going to be generous and give you another chance, okay? Would you like that?"
You nodded quickly but his grip tightened. "Use your words, baby."
"Yes," you rasped, walls clenching around nothing as the steam of the shower seemed to build around you. How embarrassing. "I would like another chance, please."
He smiled, dropping his hand from your jaw. He hummed, patting your cheek. "A slut with manners... aren't you such a good girl?" He cooed, slick covered fingers trailing down your wet stomach, slipping between your legs easily.
Your lips parted as his fingers returned to your cunt, pushing in and out slowly, walls tighter than before, desperate to not let go of this feeling. You bit down on your lip yet again, feeling his mouth press against your shoulder as he pressed deeper. Oh God...
"That's it. Doesn't it feel so much better when you follow the rules? It'd be better if you weren't so stupid," Gabi sighed, curling his fingers intentionally, watching you squirm as the shame seeped far hotter than the water hitting your skin. "Always pretending like you don't want it. Like you're better than us. But like this, here! You’re nothing. Just a good toy who follows my rules, yeah?"
Your eyes rolled, blinking rapidly with the falling drops of water. Your body cowered against him, pleasure unfurling quickly. It was ridiculous. His words should've horrified you. Made you want to push him away. But it only made your skin burn and ache with the need for more.
And nothing was more humiliating than the grotesque squelch of your cunt against his fingers. Louder than the water pelting past you, shower far too quiet cover it. You were sure if anyone had woken up and walked by, they would know what was going on.
Your nails dug deeper into his skin once again, silent breath shaking as your eyes flitted up to him as if it was a warning.
Gabi chuckled faintly. "Oh I know. I can feel it," he murmured, referring to the vice-like grip you had on his fingers.
He could see it too. You were so close, skin flushed with the burden of silence. The sight made him coax it even further, pads of his two fingers rubbing that good spot, instantly having you keeling.
Your eyes rolled hard to the back of your skull, teeth threatening to tear into the soft skin of your lip as you came all over his fingers. Your body shook violently against him—the only form of voice you had in that very moment.
Gabi's jaw clenched tightly, refraining himself from groaning at the sight. He pulled his fingers out, licking them clean with a shudder as you stepped back, letting the water fall over you. Taking a moment to come down. But only a moment. His chest heaved harshly, cock heavy with need when he watched you sink to your knees without him even asking to. Oh Jesus...
His hand flew to his mouth in an instant as he watched your lips parted around the aching tip of his cock, already struggling to keep his promise. Your fingers sank into his thighs, head moving up and down, coating him in the warmth of your mouth.
He could only swear in his head, over and over again. Every time, without fail, your mouth seemed to work a magic unlike anything he had ever experienced. Perhaps you had memorised what he liked by now. The flick of your tongue under his veined shaft. The small suckling of his tip. The graze of your teeth.
Fuck. You knew it all like the good slut you were.
Gabi wasn't sure when his other hand had found your wet hair, wrapping it around in circles till he had a tight grip. His hips began moving desperately, so invasive against your throat as your gags reverberated through him.
It was heavenly how your throat closed around him, tight and warm like you knew every ridge of him in your memory. Sucking him in even further, letting him bruise you like you knew who owned that hole. You choked as he brought your head closer, pushing your nose right against his lower pelvis, flushed with his pubic hair.
He couldn't help but drift his eyes down to you. Something about the look of you on your knees, eyes teary, in front of the fogged glass with water trickling down your glowing skin... it was unreal.
His hips moved deliriously, strides fast and short as the desperation began to hit him. His breaths heavy as he lost control, voicing every grunt and moan he had kept shoved down in his chest. They became shorter than the one before, mixing with the sound of your gags.
"Oh shit... shit, shit, shit!"
The pleasure bubbled tightly before his hips came to a rapid halt against your face, ropes of his hot cum spilling down your throat as his fingers dug into your scalp.
Gabi sucked in a sharp breath, trying not to swear at the bob of your throat as you swallowed every drop of him he gave you.
You wiped your lips with a small smile, slowly standing back up on your feet. You casually grabbed the shower gel nearby, amused glint in your eyes obvious.
"I told you you couldn't keep quiet."
Ollie had had enough of it. And by 'it,' he meant you.
He had been watching you lounge by the beach as the others swam, ice cream in hand as you read your book with not a care in the world. Not for the drops of sugar pooling around your lips. Nor for the white drops trailing down your chest from the sheer heat of the sun. He couldn’t tell whether it was on purpose. And he didn't care whether it was.
It was driving him crazy. As though he was a dog with his panting tongue out, hungry for a taste.
Ollie barely had enough patience for you to stand up to wash your hands in the changing rooms nearby. His steps swift and smooth on your trail and he could tell you knew, traces of your faint smile as you entered the large room.
The sound of the tap flowing rebounded off the barren walls. You reached out for some soap, eyes flickering to the strained expression in the reflection of the mirror. "This is the girls' changing room, Ollie," you murmured, lips quirking regardless.
Ollie's fingers twisted the lock behind him, small click so loud. He quietly watched you dry your hands with the tissue paper provided, brown eyes falling to the sticky spots shining on your chest. "You left some," he said, ignoring your previous statement as he took a few steps closer.
You blinked with feigned innocence, looking down at your chest. "Whoops," you hummed, lips jutting out as you tilted your head back up, finding Ollie mere centimetres away. The heat seemed to radiate so clearly from his naked chest. You breathed in his breath, whisper barely audible. "Can you help clean it up?"
The question broke his thinning patience. His hands moved fast, hooking you up against the counter, warm tongue leaving wet trails across your chest as the sweet taste of sugar lingered. His fingers roughly pulled down your bikini top, thumbs moving to feel your nipples, moans muffled against your ample flesh.
Your head carelessly fell back against the mirror, feeling the pressure of his lips tighten with intention, purple embellishments left with every move. Your hand reached for those brown locks, trailing down towards his jaw as he looked up at you, eyes glazed with a honey-dripping warmth.
"On purpose," Ollie breathed, feeling your thumb graze over his bottom lip. "You did that on purpose."
You simply smiled, shoulders shrugging. "I missed you."
Time seemed to slow for a moment. Ollie swallowed the electric shock coursing through his body. A soft chuckle fell from his mouth before he leaned up, pressing his lips to yours in an instant. It was deep and all consuming, tongues sharing the sweetness of the ice cream you had just finished, moans and grunts mixed with your heavy breaths.
"Why don't you just ask, sweetheart?" He gasped against your lips, teeth harshly pulling at them as he grinned. "Or is it too much of your nature to act like my whore?"
You whimpered at his words, thighs pressing against the arousal pooling with every passing second. "Ollie, please. I wanna feel you," you breathed shakily, message slurred with every push of his lips against yours.
Ollie hummed, one hand moving down your exposed thigh, creeping closer and closer towards the radiating heat in between your legs. "Really? It doesn't sound like you really want it," he mumbled, pushing his fingers against the damp fabric of your bikini bottoms. And it makes him chuckle. "But I guess your body's saying something else. Are you really sure you want it?"
"Please," you said against his lips, voice strained at the slow rub of his fingers against your clothed cunt. "I want it. I want it bad."
He grinned further, skimming over your clit, grit of the fabric making you whine. "And what does my baby want? Hmm? My fingers? No?" He queried, lips pouting mockingly at the glaring heat in your eyes.
"I want your cock, Ollie. Please," you whispered, eyes stinging with humiliation.
Ollie watched you, beyond amused. Euphoric at every plea tipping from your lips. As if he an unearthed a resting pride in the bottom of his chest. How easily he could bring you to cry. To beg. It was heavenly.
He chuckled, almost in disbelief as he watched you perk at the sight of him bringing out his cock from his swim shorts. His desperate slut. His arm shifted you against the counter, tilting you closer towards him. He sucked in a sharp breath, tucking himself under the tightness of your bottoms, damp fabric stuck to him as he rubbed against you.
Your lips parted at the spread of your folds around his long shaft, slick covering him in an instant. Breath hitching at the nudge of his tip against your clit, you looked over at him with a resigned look. "Ollie..."
"What? Is that not what you wanted?" He queried, overly fake innocence seeping through his voice as the heat grew in your skin and cunt. "You have my cock. Is that not enough for a slut like you?"
Your fingers shook, reaching for his forearm. Your skin prickled with shame, your dignity becoming lost with every passing second. How much more were you going to have to beg? How much more were you going to wait?
The grind of his hips against yours. The teasing prod of his leaking tip near your hole. There but not where you wanted. Not how you wanted.
Ollie's lips neared your ear, grin audible, shaped with the feel of his mouth tugging. "You think this is torture? And you having that ice cream, letting it drip all over you, wasn't? Don't think I forgot about the gym either."
You snapped your eyes to his. Right. You had done that. Spent your early hours in the paddock within the Haas gym, at the same time Ollie had his own training to focus on. Dressed in what could only be described as sinful activewear.
"It doesn't feel good, does it?" He chuckled, breath heavy as the wetness seemed to increase, echoing off the empty walls of the changing room.
"Ollie, please," you exasperated, frustration now forming with the thin sheets of tears in your eyes. It was mortifying how your cunt clenched around nothing, so desperate to be full. To be used. "I realise my mistake."
"Yeah? You won't do it again, will you?" Ollie murmured, testing different speeds as his hips rutted against your folds.
You shuddered, teeth biting down on your lip tightly as you shook your head. "No. I promise," you almost sobbed, voice shaking.
"You'll tell me the next time you wanna be fucked stupid, right?"
You sucked in a sharp breath at the brief push of his tip into your hole, momentary pleasure striking your body. "Yes! I will. I'll ask. I promise, Ollie."
Ollie groaned at the tear drop falling from your eye as he finally pushed in fully, feeling your walls immediately clamp down on him. "Oh shit," he grunted, hand reached out to collect the salty liquid with the pad of his thumb.
Your brows mended with disbelief, cunt pulsing as he brought your tear to his tongue. Your whimper came from deep down, skin burning impossibly while he held your gaze, cock pounding into you at a heightened pace from the get-go.
It was that moment that told you that you weren’t going to last nearly as long as you thought. It had some stupid hold over you, leaving you bringing your mouth to his, tasting yourself on his tongue while your moans were muffled.
His fingers sunk into your hips, echoes of your skin slapping against one another rebounding off the walls. The smell of sex surrounded you like a thick fog, nails digging into his forearms, scratching the epidermis, red crescents engraved into his skin.
"So pretty like this, baby," Ollie grunted against your lips, eyes rolling at the tight warmth of your walls clenching around him. Like you had perfectly accommodated every ridge of his. "All teary-eyed and desperate. You love being my cockslut, don't you?"
You nodded, teeth sinking into your bottom lip. God, yes. You loved it. No matter how much your skin burned with embarrassment. It never felt better than this.
"Oh my God, Ollie—ngh!" You mewled, feeling your core tighten.
His own skin flushed at your sweet sounds, hips beginning to speed up, pushing deeper and deeper. "You close, hmm?" He panted, thumb moving to open your mouth. "Open up for me."
No shame truly poured over you as Ollie spat in your mouth. Instinctual as you swallowed it without a thought, making him groan and his cock throb in your cunt. Seriously... how were you real? What were the odds you and him existed in the same timeline? On the same plane as the others?
He could only thank the stars that whatever life choices you had made had brought you here. With him. With them.
"O-Ollie," you stuttered, body beginning to lock up as the sliver of sharp pleasure built.
"That's it, fuckkk. Cum for me. You've been such a good girl for me," Ollie rasped, brown eagle eyes taking in every morphed movement of your face as the pleasure came shattering down on you.
It was surreal how his pace never quite slowed down, fucking you through each ebbing wave of pleasure, each one bigger than the other. You could barely see through your hazed vision. Stars. Lightning. White. Like some sort of heavenly light at the end of the tunnel. It left you clamping down on him hard.
His fingers wrapped around your hips tighter than before, bruising as Ollie's jaw hung open. “Oh my... Oh my God," he breathed harshly, coil in his lower pelvis unravelling faster than he could speak.
With his hips stilling against yours, he painted your walls and crevices white and warm, groans muffled in your ears as his lips pressed against yours, rushed and deep. All of it was sloppy. The lewd squelch. The husky smell. The sweat on your skin.
And yet, you wouldn't have changed a thing.
You eyed the five small empty vials in front you, tilting your head as you looked around the living room, carefully examining the four expressions. "You know we don't need aphrodisiacs to have fun, right?" You asked.
None of you had really questioned where on earth Gabi had gotten those teeny tiny bottles from. Aphrodisiac liqueur except without the alcohol. All 'natural' as it claimed on the packaging. They were strong doses. Ten millilitres in each one. Enough to make you last hours.
You had been sitting here for forty minutes now, ticking down the time till they eventually kicked in. Or till one of you folded. Whichever came first.
Gabi nodded slowly. "I know," he simply said. "Thought it'd be fun to have a little throwback," he grinned.
Isack blew some air into his face, leaning up from the couch. "I think this one is a bust, mate."
"Yeah, it should've started working ten minutes ago," Ollie agreed despite running a hand through his hair like he had been sweating.
You raised a brow; smile etched onto your face. "I wouldn't be so sure. Kimi's been awfully quiet," you mumbled, drifting your attention to the Italian cooped up in the corner of the couch, skin lightly flushed, mouth pressed tightly.
Kimi swallowed, sucking in a sharp breath, arms moving over his lap hastily. "Me?" He pointed at himself. "I'm fine. Pfft... I don't even feel anything. At all. Whatsoever."
You hummed to yourself, amused. "If you say so," you sung quietly, moving your hair to the side, throwing one leg over the other, arms perfectly nested underneath your chest.
"Oh come on... don't do that," Kimi grumbled, shaking his head at your actions, unable to peel his eyes away from your cleavage. “That’s… not fair. She does this during every interview," he complained, looking over at his friends for support.
"Do what? I'm not doing anything," you retorted, feigning a small yawn as you stretched your arms.
Ollie pursed his lips, throat bobbing at the rise of your shirt. "Kimi, don't egg her—"
"This is totally unfair. I thought we were waiting it out," Kimi sighed, shifting uncomfortably against the couch, shorts beginning to tent.
You smiled, bringing your arms back down. There was something about playing with fire that got you so excited. Because right now, you were smiling. The next... you'd hope you'd be crying.
"You think that's unfair? That's not even close," you murmured, feeling the heat of the drink beginning to climb in your body.
"Oh Jesus," Gabi shook his head as you opened your legs, skirt parting to reveal your bare cunt. "There nothing there," he groaned, eyes closing as he shoved his face into a nearby pillow.
Isack bit his lip, fingers tightening around the edge of couch. He could see it as much as the next person. The glistening of the slick around every fold of yours. So perfect, waiting to be touched. To be ruined.
God, you were just awful.
He looked over to Ollie, waiting for something. Anything. Because the unsaid rule still applied. It was Ollie who made the first move. Not him. Not anyone else. Ollie.
It wasn't exactly territorial, per se. It was just the order of things. You were his press correspondent first. The fact Ollie had even gone as far as letting all three of them continue with whatever this was... it was beyond them but hell, they weren’t complaining.
You watched with bated breath as Ollie tilted his head at you, wetness increasing by the second. What would he say? What would he do? Your head explored all the possibilities. You blinked as his lips parted.
"I think you should apologise to Kimi," Ollie stated, legs crossed, arms stretched oh so casually when his eyes said anything but.
You pursed your lips, smile small and coy. "You're right. That was mean of me," you agreed, shifting your head towards Kimi as you stood up from the couch. You watched his chest heave with anticipation, brown eyes following when you sank to your knees and your hands skimmed over his clothed thighs. "I hope you can forgive me," you breathed.
Kimi's lips quirked, aphrodisiacs making him sit straight before leaning forward, scooting closer. He pulled down the waistband of his shorts, letting his hardened length fly out, patting your cheek with a humiliating spring. He whispered, “Try and find out."
Gabi's teeth dug into the pillow nearby as he watched your lips spread around Kimi's cock, tongue lapping the pre-cum oozing out of his tip. Kimi's head fell back onto the couch, eyes fluttering instantly. "Oh fuck."
It was a sinful endeavour as it usually was. The way your throat took him, so warm and so tight. The press of your hands against his balls. The graze of your nails against his shaft. The hums of your throat vibrating through him. Like you knew all the right buttons to press.
Kimi's brows furrowed, breath shaky when you nuzzled all the way down, nose pressed right up against him lower pelvis, gags reverberating. It made his hips jerk uncontrollably. "What is in those drinks? Seriously?" He gasped, hand shooting out to your hair.
You only moaned in response, body tingling when you felt a hand creep up the back of your thigh and over your ass, teasing and only momentarily soft. You knew these those slender fingers from anywhere.
You choked around Kimi's cock as Gabi's hand came slamming down onto the ample flesh, red handprint almost immediate. The pain made you jolt, leaving Kimi's tip nudging your throat, bruising in all the ways that mattered. Your scalp burned, muffled whimpers rising when the next when inched close towards the heat between your legs.
"Our cumslut's looking a little empty, isn't she?” Gabi breathed out, smirk stretched onto his face as he admired his artwork. "Should we fill her up?"
Isack grunted, fisting himself on the couch, pre-cum slathered all over his shaft. "Please. Holy God."
Kimi practically scrambled out of your mouth the moment Gabi, already now bare, pressed his long cock into your rim. "No, no, no. Up here, belle," he swallowed, hoisting you up, not giving you any time to adjust as he sunk you down onto his cock.
You winced at the burning stretches, hands flying out to fist Kimi's shirt, bracing yourself. Though you had a little practice, having two holes full never got any easier. But fuck, it felt so good.
Ollie watched silently, ears full of the sickening, wet squelches of your skin slapping against one and another. He didn't reach out to touch himself. Not yet. Though the large bulge in his pants begged him to. There was something just so enchanting about having you half-clothed, skirt up and riding Kimi while Gabin pounded you from behind. It clouded his brain with only the worst of thoughts.
"Take it off," Kimi almost growled, hand harshly pulling at your shirt, friction burning into your skin. He needed to see those tits. So big and soft. He could already see the peaks of your nipples through the fabric as well.
Gabi's arms moved off your hips, thick fingers moving to tear the thin fabric with ease, letting a swarm of cold air whip past your chest. Your body clenched around their cocks, face scarlet with shame.
You felt like a doll. Controlled and manoeuvred the way they wanted. Hair pulled. Clothes torn. Used in every aspect that mattered.
"Oh yes," Kimi moaned, hands reaching to grope each tit, cock twitching at how they spilled past the confines of his fingers. "Look at these bounce," he grunted, hips fucking into you deeper. Fuck, you felt so good around him.
Your eyes rolled hard at the two paths of pleasure, feeling Gabi drive harder into you, pelvis pressed right against your ass. Your cunt was only getting wetter, slick spreading everywhere while your stomach churned. Your breath shook as Gabi’s hand came around your throat, thumb lifting your jaw to look at him, palm slightly pushing down on your airway.
"This is your worth, linda," Gabi spat, cursing at how tight your hole felt around him. "Nothing. This is what happens when you're worth nothing," he chuckled.
Kimi's gasp came out choked, half-lodged in his throat. "Shit, shit, shit," he swore, brown eyes wide, lips parted as the pleasure took a hold of him. His hips stilled, cock pumping out ropes and ropes of his cum into you, filling you up just like Gabi had intended.
Your hands darted to the sudden press of Kimi's against your clit. Mouth wide open, your body convulsed at the forced pleasure rising out of you, moans mixed with Gabi's grunts as he sped up, only making you see white harder.
"Fuck, Kimi!" Gabi barked, almost chiding as his eyes rolled, hips stuttering while his skin burned with every sense heightened from the aphrodisiacs.
You were heaving, half slumped against Gabi’s chest, body still shaking as you mustered what was the poorest glare at Kimi through your hooded eyes. None of which meant anything with the smug smirk on his face.
"I forgive," Kimi chuckled proudly, watching you shudder as Gabi pulled out of you, his hands flying to keep you up against him.
You swallowed at the tilt of your chin to the other direction, finding the blown pupils belonging to Isack staring right back at you. Your heart sank with nothing more than excitement. "Hope you're not too tired, chérie. We're only just getting started."
Kimi inhaled sharply at the pulse of your cunt around him. He grinned at Isack, pulling you off of him swiftly, leaving you back-facing on the couch. "Trust me. She's not."
Isack leered, squatting down as his eyes raked over your body. His tongue clicked, cock in his shorts twitching at the juices spilling out of you from both holes. "What a mess you've made," he sighed, fingers trailing down your stomach and over your puffy folds, leaving you jolting. He smiled broadly at the sight. His lips dipped to your ears. "But I know you can make more."
"Oh fuck," you whimpered as Isack's thick fingers pushed into your cunt, not even giving you a chance to warm up. Your walls throbbed at the sizzling slivers of pain, clamping around him in a way that asked for me.
You blinked, stomach churning with a thrilling fear when you spotted Ollie's face above you. He was watching. Staring. And yet... he said nothing.
"Eyes on me, chérie," Isack reminded, keeping your jaw firmly tilted towards him.
Your eyes prickled with embarrassment. Why wasn't he saying anything? Doing anything? Your cunt clenched at the frustration, sunken whimpers in your throat making small networks of veins appear when Isack's fingers curled.
"Oh... is our baby sad? You want Ollie to touch you?" Isack cooed, rubbing that smooth spot perfectly, leaving your hips jerking impossibly. He grinned at the tears slipping from the corners of your eyes. "Well that's tough. Seems like you did something to upset him," he chuckled, thumb expertly gliding to your clit.
"Fucking hell," you moaned, head digging into you the couch as your eyes rolled.
Your cunt swirled at the tense pleasure hurtling through you, hand reaching out to grab Ollie's forearm near you, knuckles white while your hips ground against Isack's hand. Your jaw fell slack as his two digits rubbed your inner walls, teeth tearing into your lip. The reminiscent memories of the first time flashed in your head as his hand came striking down on your cunt.
Your nails dug into Ollie's as your body tightened. Isack's grin only spread like wildfire, hearing the squelches of your cunt get wetter. "That's it, chérie. Already coming close like the perfect slut you are. Come on," he urged, pushing in another finger, cupping the inside of your walls with supernatural speed.
"Holy shit... is that... is she..." Gabi's lips parted with disbelief.
Kimi blinked. "I think so..."
Ollie's eyes widened, your cries in the air as the barriers came down. Thighs clenching around Isack's hard, legs trembling while your vision burned completely white. The orgasm hit you, sweet sounds from your mouth turning silent as the head flooded from your insides. Hot liquid gushing out of your cunt in pulses, soaking everything within your vicinity.
His forearm. Isack's hand. The couch. Dark splotches like artwork across the fabric.
Ollie's heart paced ferally in his chest. His movements almost invisible, pushing Isack's hand away as his mouth attached to your cunt, lapping up every last drop he could take. His arms tightly locked around your thighs while you wildly spasmed against his tongue.
The pain was surreal, stupidly mixed with the resting excitement after Ollie had finally touched you. The tears from your eyes were incessant, leaving you a blubbering mess in front of him. "F-Fu... O-Oll—ngh!" You sobbed out, eyes shut firmly.
Isack could only chuckle, barely even offended as he grabbed his cock out, propping your face on the arm of the couch. "Look at her," he grunted with disbelief. "Can't even tell him to stop she's fucked so stupid."
Gabi and Kimi shook their heads, unable to stop themselves from shoving their hands onto their shafts, surrounding you with pure need and desire.
Your skin burned at Isack's words, cunt pulsing around the animalistic groan of Ollie's against your cunt. Your head peeked down, finding those dark brown eyes staring right back at you. "Oh fuck," you moaned, falling back into the couch, feeling his lips wrap around your clit.
"It's okay, baby. I won't leave you empty," Isack hissed, pressing the tip of his cock into your mouth, warmness coating him almost instantly as he silenced your cries. "Oh shit. Just like that," he rasped.
Gabi could only swear under his breath, cock so hard yet again from all the mess you had created. Not even once could he imagine this would’ve happened. At least not like this. And truth be told, he hardly thought it was the aphrodisiacs that were making all of you crazy.
Your eyes rolled hard, throat almost lax around Isack's cock as the pleasure came crashing down from Ollie's mouth, sweat-covered hips bucking with pain and euphoric slivers, fingers shaking from how hard they dug into the couch.
"Jesus Christ," Kimi cussed, lower pelvis beginning to keel over.
Whatever frustration of Ollie's Isack had named earlier on seemed to still be present, lips moving from your cunt only to replace the momentary loss with his aching cock.
The first sound from Ollie's mouth was guttural. He was as dazed as you were without having done anywhere near as much. His snaps against your hips were rough and deep, making choke around Isack's cock. "You promised. What did you promise, huh?" He grunted yet again, fingers practically injuring your waist from how tight they pressed.
Your gags filled his ears as his cock weighed heavy in your walls. "You said you'd tell. You'd ask to be fucked stupid. But no... you wanted to play games at the start, hmm?" Ollie chuckled, sound dark and reverent.
Isack bit his lip, your attempt and talking shooting down his thick length, driving him even crazier.
"Do you feel stupid now? Could've been fucked like this a long time ago, baby. But you were so desperate to get tease us. To be the slut you are," Ollie spat, flickers falling onto your skin, practically sizzling from the heat.
All you could hear was everyone's heavy breaths and pants, Gabi and Kimi's hands gliding over their own cocks. Everyone desperately rushing to meet their end with you. And it only made you moan further, pleasure bubbling in your lower stomach.
Your teary eyes widened at the press of Ollie's fingers against your clit, hand wrapping around his wrist at the sheer sensitivity pulsing through your cunt as he toyed with your balance of pain and pleasure.
His laugh was instantaneous. "What? It hurts?" Ollie's mocked, fingers rubbing the bundle of nerves as he rutted into you. His grunts became heavy with the tightening of your cunt. Oh fuck... "I know you can handle it. What else are you good for?"
He tore you.
Ripped you apart, piece by piece as the orgasm hit you harder than lightning. Harder than any sort of tsunami or earthquake. It was like it was alive. It scolds you. Tames you with every ripple through your core. You think... you think it's the white light at the end of the tunnel. Some blurry line between heaven and hell.
But you weren't alone.
Isack, who had been using your mouth like a toy, had faltered, knees weak as he came down your throat, stuffing you with his seed. Kimi and Gabi had let out a string of curses, ropes of cum splattering across your body and the couch. And Ollie... oh Ollie.
Frozen with this live electricity in his body, he was flushed against you, shaking in sync with you. Feeling your cunt pulse around him, milking every last drop of pleasure from him. Taking his breath away entirely.
The room laid heavy for a minute or two before Isack quickly moved out of your mouth, hands rushing you tilt prop you back up. You shuddered as Ollie pulled out of you, body aching from the aftermath.
"Fuck, are you okay?" Isack queried, nudging for Gabi to retrieve some water, concern evident as you coughed, throat aching, and dry tears stained on your cheeks. He grabbed the cup of water, pushing it towards your lips.
You welcomed the cold fluid gladly, more thirsty than worried about your bruised oesophagus or the drops of water dripping down your chest. You sighed hoarsely as you finished the cup. "That was..."
"Way too much?" Kimi queried anxiously, cautiously checking over your body as he winced at the sound of your voice.
"Like you never want to do this again?" Gabi added, hand massaging your temple.
You breathed heavily, sore eyes drifting towards Ollie who stared silently, kneeling between your legs. You could barely read his gaze. Regret mixed with a selfish amount of arrogance. A horrid combination that should've scared anyone.
You smiled tiredly. "That was perfect."
Ollie released the breath he had been unintentionally holding. He leaned forward, pressing a kiss to the side of your head, brown eyes watching you carefully as he pulled away. His arms travelled to the sides of your body, scooping you up swiftly. "Come on then. Gabi, go turn on the shower."
"Okay... from experience, it won't fit all five of us," Gabi began.
Isack snapped his head to him, hand instantly darting out to whack the back of his head. "Can you shut up and go?" He sighed with annoyance, watching him began to move. "Seriously... the nerve he has," he muttered to Kimi.
"I don't know where he gets it from," Kimi shook his head, jelly legs beginning to move as the Frenchman followed after him.
"You promise that wasn't too much?" Ollie murmured, looking down at you as the boys rushed towards the bathroom. "I didn't mean to..."
You pressed a small kiss to his forearm. "I promise."
Even if my heart stops beating...You're the only thing I need with me
F1 MASTERLIST
☆ : Featuring : All of the drivers present in the 2025 grid
☆ : Synopsis : Them around you while they have a crush on you but you are too oblivious...
☆ : word count : 2.1k
🎧Song for this fic : Pretty Boy ( Chip Chorme and the Monotones)...The Neighbourhood
Note : this is actually my first time writing for all 20 of them so if I don't do justic to one of them I'm so sorry 😭😭
☽・Redbull
max verstappen
You never catch Max being openly affectionate.
But the camera crew does—he’s always glancing around until he spots you.
If you’re laughing with another driver? Suddenly he’s there, acting like it’s just coincidence.
Once he said something almost nice about your outfit, then looked away like he didn’t say anything at all.
“That color doesn’t look bad on you.” “Wait, was that a compliment?” “No. Just an observation. Don’t get weird about it.”
Yuki Tsunoda
Loud, dramatic, hilarious.
Yuki will yank you into comming to the races.
“Please you are good luck to me. I need you to be down there watching me”
He brings you your favorite snacks before every race and insists it’s because he “bought too many.” (He didn’t.)
Whole paddock knows he’s crushing. but you? Blissfully unaware...
You will find your favorite candy waiting for you the second you have a bad day..
“They were on sale. Don’t overthink it.”
☽・Mercedes
George Russell
George treats you like his personal planner—even if you’re just a media coordinator or on a logistics team.
Walks you through every weekend plan, sends you the brief before you ask, and gives pre-interview pep talks like you're going on camera instead of him.
When it rains, he will offer you his umbrella...Even if that means he ends up soaked.
“George, you’re getting drenched.”...“Yes, but you’re not. That’s what matters.”
Andrea Kimi Antonelli
He doesn't flirt he just teases the living hell out of you..
You mispronounce an Italian word once—once—and Kimi never lets it go.
The thing is, he’s always around. Not in an obvious way, but in that quiet, lingering in your peripheral vision way.
He stands close—too close—when he’s talking to you. Shoulder brushing yours. Arms almost touching. But if you lean away or give him a look, he just raises an eyebrow like what? am I in your space? could never be me.
He might tease you...but he will remember your everything...and he will take pictures of you candid stuff which you later find out when he sends you one by mistake..A candid. You, mid-laugh, half-blurry from movement. The corner of his jacket sleeve is visible in the frame.
will smile while you talk to him and maybe get lost in your eyes..too lost maybe..
“What?”..“You were looking at me.”..“No, I was—don’t be weird.”..(Pause)..“You had something on your face.”
☽・Ferrari
Charles Leclerc
Holds you hand to subconciously sometimes...
Gets a bit pouty when the fanbase favours you more but he secretly loves it...
knows your coffee order by heart and gets you coffee every morning...
Doesn't accept it and saty quiet if anyone tries to disrespect you or mistreat you...yeah not on his watch...
"Did you drink enough water today? and did you have breakfast? you skip that meal a lot...like a lot..."
Lewis Hamilton
Keeps it professional on camera but insists producers highlight your work and advocacy...
Makes sure to include you in glitzy events but won’t directly talk about his feelings for you.
Wraps an arm around you in press chaos but immediately acts casual if questioned.
Posts a soft photo of you with a vague caption — as if to say
"I’m here, but I won’t say more.”
☽・Mclaren
Lando Norris
Doesn't flirt with you like he does with others...he just becomes a 12 year old with a crush around you...
Will unplug your mic and act shocked when you notice and always standing behind you during group shots, pulling faces.
Starts every day with “don't tell me what to do” and ends it with “text me when you’re home. I get worried if you don't”
Is in more of your posts than in regular ones which makes the PR go mad..
(Later, during media day) “Lando, can you stop photobombing her instagram?”...“Sorry, I’m her emotional support driver.”
Oscar Piastri
He pays attention...will remember anything and everything you tell him about yourself...your coffee order, favorite books, favorite artist...everything.
He wants to listen to music? He wants to listen it with you...will share earbuds without a second thought...
Will sit beside you the second he has the oppurtunity...
If someone raises their voice at you he will polietly but firmly to keep their tone in check...and most of the times not infront of you...
“Oscar went full lawyer on that journo for you.” you would probably find out form someone on the team...
“You never said.” “Didn’t need to. He was wrong. You deserved better.”
Since he remembers almost everything...you will find coffee or something to cheer you up the second you have a bad day...
“You didn’t have to bring me tea…”..“You sounded tired. Figured you wouldn’t stop for yourself.”
☽・Aston Martin
Fernando Alonso
Will subtly shake his head all the time while maintaining eye contact with you while you speak
Also asks you to be there in the garages while he srives because he sees you as his lucky charm...
He would never admit it but things you give him are always kept safely and a keychain you gave him is always on his backpack because it reminds him of you...
If anyone tries to get dissmisive about you job title or say anything bad abt you...He wont think twice before speaking up and sometimes maybe not so politely...
“If you don’t know her role, you shouldn’t be asking questions.”
Lance Stroll
He might be the most nonchalant guy to others but he laughs the hardest the second you make a joke...even if its dumb or stupid...
The one to buy you your favorite snacks in bulk and just keep then with him in case you are ever hungry..
And he will stick to you because to him you are his comfort person...
You might see him scribbling your name in his notes and stuff...its subconcious but its just him...
“You wrote my name?” “It’s not weird! I mean—it’s just for luck. Like… positive manifestation. Or whatever.”
☽・Williams
Alex Albon
He's tall so he walks fast but when you're walking with him...he will slow down his pace to just match with yours so you can walk more comfortably...
If its your first time at a grand prix...he will try his hardest to make sure absolutely nothing goes wrong for you...
Picking at eachother is deffinately the love language between you both...but he would never cross the line...
If he ever notices you skipping breakfast or any meal of the day...he will make sure to carry something with him so that he can hand it to you immediatly when it looks like you're hungry...
If you have anything big comming up for you and you're nervous...he will slide you notes and pretend that they were absolutely not from him...
“‘Knock ‘em dead, superstar’? What happened to ruthless sarcasm?” “Who let you see that? I was trying to be mysterious and emotionally unavailable.” “Too late. Your soft side is showing.” “Damn. I knew I should’ve written ‘Don’t trip on camera.’”
Carlos Sainz
Will run to you the second he feels even a minescule spec of stress...he calls you his 'calming presence' because your voice feels so calm...
Will send you his song recomendations...
Is probably the kind of guy to beg you to get song widgets where you can pick out songs for eachother when it reminds you of eachother...
Would'nt think twice before offering you his jacket with a small smirk and nodd...
“You remembered my favorite artist?” “Of course. I listen when you talk. That’s what friends do...Especially the special ones.”
☽・Haas
Oliver Bearman
He will drop everything and run to you the second he spotts you...unless its very important or work related...
Will repeat the complements you give him under his breath just to relieve the happiness of what you had just said...
He gets visibly happy when you say "see you later" even if its a part of rouine at this point...
He will cling to you like a koala and see you as his comfort person...
Also sees you as his lucky charm so asking you to be his plus one in gps is the most normal thing...
Remembers your orders and your favorite songs by heart...
“Ollie, breathe. It’s just lunch.” “Right. Normal. Casual. Totally regular human food consumption...You know, if it were just us forever, I’d be fine with that.”
Estaban Ocon
Will hold everything for you...the door...the umbrella...your sanity...
Will get you an extra pass so that you can come watch him race..and will panic if he forgets to get you one by any chance
Also knows your coffee order, food orders and schedule like its the back of his hand...
will strict heartedly follow the sidewalk rule...
If you have a bad day and he gets to know about it...expect him to get you your favorite takeout and ask if you want to have a movie night at his with him...
"why do you always make me drink water and get me food?" “Because you forget to eat when you're stressed… and you always leave your water bottle behind.” “So you’re stalking me for hydration purposes?” “Exactly. I'm a very noble stalker.”
☽・Racing bulls
Liam Lawson
Liam will give you nickanames that only he has rights to use...if anyone uses them...he will make sure that he makes it a point that only he can call you that...
He will carry some of your favorite snacks with him always in case you miss a meal or are genuinly hungry...
He will pretend to trip over his feet just so you can check up on him...
Calls you his 'lucky charm' and will cling to you...
Gifts you stuff...and makes sure nothing wrong happens to you...
“Did you seriously bring me gummy bears?” “You said you liked them once. In January. Of last year.” “So this is… thoughtful stalking?” “No! It’s called long-term strategic snacking...…Also I needed an excuse to talk to you today.”
Isack Hadjar
Isack will always be at the corner of your eye...everyone knows if you are somewhere he is nearby...
He wears the friendship bracelet you gave him like its a sacred thread...if anyone tries to touch it...he will yank his hand away...every single picture...its there on his hand...all the time...
Somehow always ends up holding your watter bottle or jacket or lanyard...he will say that you maybe lost it and hes just here to return...but its obvious that he has been holding it for about thirty minutes or so...
Remembers your coffee order and favorite songs...he will share his earbuds with you...
He would never flirt directly...but the second you say that you are cold...his hoodie is in your hands before you can even complete the sentence...
“You okay? You’re twitchier than usual.” “Didn’t sleep much.” “Why not?” “Was trying to figure out how to talk to you without sounding like an idiot.”
☽・Alpine
Peirre Gasly
Is convinced that you are his soulmate...he will flirt with you...and smile at you the entire time you talk with him...
Calls you 'sunshine' because he thinks you bring hope to him...
Will act offended if Simba likes you more but secretly loves you playing with Simba...
He will send you flowers under a fake name but then ask if you liked them...
"Liked the flowers on your doorstep this morning sunshine?" "That was you?"
Jack Doohan
Jack is the defination of 'Act cool. Panic later'
He is all soft smiles and hopeful glances, pretending he’s totally chill around you while in reality...he’s memorized every conversation...rehearsed his jokes, and 100% lies awake replaying the way you laughed at something he said three weeks ago.
Shows up with spare team merch "just lying around" and melts when you wear it
Gets adorably tounge tied if you complement him...say "you look nice today" with that soft smile and watch him trip over a cord or somthing while smiling...
The inside of his notebook has one scribble in the margin that reads: “Ask her out before the season ends. Please.”
You catch him staring sometimes, not in a cocky way, but like he’s just genuinely stunned you exist near him.
“She’s just… I don’t know. She makes everything feel less chaotic.
☽・Kick Sauber
Nico Hulkenberg
Is a little bit grumpy about everything except you....
He will say something like "you again?" but immediately make some space for you so you can sit...
leaves his jacket on your chair by "accident" when ever its cold...
leves you little notes in the jacket pockets...
"media days dont suck if shes there..."
Gabriel Bortoleto
blushes if you talk to him...blushes if you stand close to him...blushes if you smile...blushes if you wave...basically a blushing mss when it comes to you...
Will ask you to be in the garages during the race and reassures himself with a “Breathe. She’s here.”
Will give you his water bottle if you can't find your with two hands like a nervous kid giving yo a flower..
also wears the bracelet you gave him like a sacred thread...
"please come to the race...you help me keep my sanity down there..."
