your relationship with jenson as told through voicemails
(i'm aware jenson doesn't have twin girls but he does in this. also potential trigger warning for boss/employee relationship? age gap as well. thank you to @lestapiastrisgirl for encouraging my daddy issues with this one <3)
His Daughter Is Sick
“Hey, it’s Jenson.” He pauses, a breathy chuckle cracking over the line.
“You know that, caller ID and all. Sorry, I’m scattered.” He shakes his head. He’s scattered because calling you is always a nerve-racking experience.
Jenson can’t quite explain why you make him nervous. You’d been working for him for almost a year now, nannying for his twin girls Gracie and Molly but it was like he was brand new at this whole ‘interacting with a pretty girl’ thing. Which was total bullshit. He was Jenson Button, for crying out loud. And you were the NANNY for fucks sakes.
“I know it’s your day off and you already work so hard with the girls and I appreciate all that you do for them…” Another pause, a quick breath before he pushes it a bit more.
“And for me too.” The words hang in the air, like he’s testing the waters.
You’re always willing to take on more with the girls. Saying yes to anything Jenson asks of you. He feels the guilt that comes along with needing someone, but you never make him feel like a burden.
“But Gracie is sick, the school just called.” Desperation is back in his voice. He’s panicking, you can hear it in how quick the words tumble out of his mouth. He loves his girls more than anything, you know that. Know how hard it is for him to ask for help.
“She has a fever and it’s my week so Mallory is saying this is on me,” Frustration edges into his voice, when he speaks about his ex. She’s nice enough but there’s something about the way she shirks off her parenting responsibilities when she knows you’re around that rubs you the wrong way.
“But I’m in London today so I’m at least an hour away, I wasn’t planning on needing to be back until pickup. Can you go pick Gracie up?”
You know how hard that question is for him to ask. How he hates depending on you. You don’t mind. The girls mean everything to you.
And so does Jenson.
“I’m leaving the city now so you won’t have to give up too much of your evening.” To punctuate his point, you hear a car door slam in the background. An engine firing up.
“I’m sorry. I feel like I’m always asking you to help bail me out. I’m really shit at this whole single dad thing, aren’t I?”
You made a mental note to remind Jenson how well he was doing. You knew it probably wound’t make much of of an impact. You were only 25, no kids of your own but you knew the girls. You knew Jenson. You knew how well he was doing with them.
“I appreciate your help…for everything you’re willing to do for the girls. For me.” He sighs, knowing full well there’s more he wants to say.
So much more.
“You’re a Godsend, really. I hope you know how much the girls love you. How much you mean to them.”
How much you mean to me, he nearly says. The words are on the tip of his tongue, ready to spill like a forbidden confession. But that would be wildly inappropriate.
Wouldn’t it?
“Okay. Please let me know if you can swing by and pick Gracie up.” Jenson shakes his head.
“Bye.”
Click.
It’s Late and He’s Tired
“Hey.” Jenson’s voice is low and raspy, a direct result of spending the weekend in Austria commentating for Sky Sports.
Your heart squeezes at the exhaustion edging into his voice. The moment hear how tired Jenson sounds, you get up from the couch and put the kettle on, wanting to have his favorite peppermint team steeped and ready for him when he gets home.
It’s beyond your nannying duties. You know that. But you can’t help your desire to not only take care of the girls but to take care of Jenson as well.
“I just landed at Heathrow. I should be home in the next hour or so, depending on how bad traffic is. Hopefully the girls went down good for you. I’m sure they did, they always do. They adore you.”
His girls weren’t the only ones either.
“Thank you again for agreeing to stay overnight with them for this trip. I hope you know how much you mean to the girls. How much you mean to me.”
A breath. Was that too much?
“I don’t know what I’d do without your help.” The words hit like a forbidden confession, twisting something deep in your chest.
Jenson pauses, like he knows there’s not much more to say but he doesn’t want to hang up the phone quite yet. He realizes how much he likes talking to you, even if it’s just to your voicemail.
What he doesn’t know is how you save each and every message he leaves you.
“I know it’s super late.” His flight had been delayed getting out of Austria, but you’d known that was a possibility.
“You can just sleep in the guest bedroom tonight. It’s not a big deal.”
Oh, but it was a big deal.
“I don’t want you driving home this late really, and my weather app says it’s going to rain in the next hour or so.” He was scrambling for excuses now, hoping to give you enough reason to stay over.
It had been a while since he’d been able to spend much time with you, with all of the travel he’d been doing. Not that he should be focusing on that. You were the nanny. Just the nanny. Right?
“So if you’re not already asleep, please stay.”
You weren’t asleep. You were moving around the kitchen quietly, making sure the last bits of dinner were cleaned up and the kettle was set on the burner, peppermint tea already steeping for him.
“It’s just not safe for you to leave.” He reasons, like you hadn’t already decided to stay the moment he’d told you he’d be late.
“Plus it would be a nice surprise for the girls to see you there in the morning.”
And not just the girls. But he can’t say that. Not yet. Maybe not ever.
Jenson pauses again, working up the courage to ask the next question that’s been sitting on the edge of his mind for weeks now.
“Maybe we could all go out to breakfast together?” His heart races as the question lands.
“They’ve been asking to go to that little cafe down the road from the house for months now and I’m just never home enough for us to go.” The explanation stutters out of his mouth, swift and fast like he wants you to keep listening.
“So, if you don’t have anything going on tomorrow morning, maybe the four of us could all go together.” He winces, knowing what this sounds like. Knowing that he sounds like he wants more.
Because he does. He does want more with you. More than the stolen looks while you prepare dinner after he arrives home. More than the late night talks that have become more and more frequent after the girls are fast asleep. More than the lingering press of fingers against hands as you catch up on that day’s activities while the girls unwind in front of the television.
He wants more with you but Jenson is terrified to ask for it.
“If you’re not busy.” He says quickly, hoping to save himself from embarrassment if you reject him.
Jenson couldn’t stand that. Not from you.
“I’m sure you are, so maybe just forget I asked? Or not. Whatever.” He fumbles.
You smirk because there was nothing more you’d like better than to spend the morning with the girls who have stolen your heart and their dad, who has also worked his way into your soul. You smirk because there’s no way you’re ever going to forget he asked. Forget how nervous he sounded, how much you wished he’d asked you to your face so he could have seen the blush creep up your neck at just the thought of spending more time with him.
“Okay. Well, I’m in the car and on my way home. See you soon.”
Click.
You Both Have A Rare Free Weekend (aka Jenson Button Asks the Nanny Out)
“Hi.” Jenson clears his throat. You pick up on the nerves instantly.
“The girls are fine, I don’t need rescuing.” He chuckles, palming at the back of his neck.
“They’re actually at their moms this weekend.”
Pause. A deep inhale.
“But you knew that. You did the exchange for me yesterday.” He laughs, nerves fraying at the edges.
“So, the girls are at their mom’s for the weekend and I don’t have anywhere to be, no races, nothing.”
Was he really going to do this?
“I remembered you talking bout that Monet exhibit that the National Gallery was debuting this week and thought maybe…”
Jenson sucks in a breath. Does he risk it? Everything that’s passed between you over the last year flashes before him. The lingering looks. The secret smiles shared when the girls weren’t looking. The way you seemed to always find a reason to stay later and later lately, insisting on helping Jenson with dinner or bedtime or homework. It felt domestic. Serious. Natural.
“I just thought maybe if you didn’t have any plans, we could go…together.”
The words hang in the air, heavy and big and dangerous. Jenson knew what he was risking here. Knew that you could retreat behind the professional veil that you wore, even if it was becoming less and less lately.
“It’s been ages since I’ve been to the gallery and you were saying the same thing the other night. How you never get into the city anymore.” He’s scrambling now, trying to speak over the nerves.
“I thought maybe we could make a day out of it. If you want. Get an early start into the city, wander around the gallery for a bit and then maybe lunch?” Jenson hates how desperate he sounds. It’s the truth though. He’s desperate for you.
You haven’t been ‘just the nanny’ for quite some time now.
“Dinner too, if you want.”
Jenson wanted to wring as much time with you out of one of his rare lazy weekends.
“You are just so good with the girls and you do so much for us and…” He’s trying to decide how far to push this. How honest he should be.
“I just want to spend some time alone with you.” He murmurs, the confession making his chest constrict.
This was so dangerous. If you turned him down, he could lose you for good. His girls could lose you for good. But he had to try. Had to risk the rejection.
“Fuck.” He hisses, losing his courage for just a moment.
“I’m sorry, I know this is probably the worst way you’ve ever been asked out on a date.”
Jenson freezes. What if he hadn’t made it clear enough that he was actually asking you out on a date?
“I’m really rusty at this. And nervous.” He chuckles.
“You make me nervous.” What was it about you that made Jenson forget how to act? What had happened to the man that just had to crook a single finger to get a girl into bed? Where was that man?
Long gone for you, apparently.
“Okay. Well. If I haven’t totally fucked up this entire thing, give me a call. I can pick you up any time tomorrow morning…”
Click.
The Morning After
“So last night…” Jenson’s voice is rough, still heavy with sleep.
“I genuinely can’t remember the last time I had so much fun at a bloody art gallery. And then lunch. And dinner.” He pauses.
“And then after dinner…” A smirk collects at the corner of his mouth.
You and Jenson had crossed all sorts of lines last night. Starting with going out on a date with your boss and finishing with…well. It was now Sunday morning and you were just easing your way back into your apartment for the first time in over 24 hours.
“I hope you’re okay with everything that happened last night.” Jenson’s stomach twists suddenly, anxiety gripping at his throat.
“It felt right though, didn’t it? It did for me. Natural, fun, like this was always supposed to happen.” Jenson would never forget the way you’d smiled at him when he suggested you two go home together.
It felt dangerous, new, comfortable.
“You’ve been a goddess in my life since you found us and I know this might be a lot.” The reality of what had happened last night began to sink in.
What this meant for your working relationship. How badly he wanted this to work with you.
“I know people are going to talk. Our age gap is going to raise some brows but…I’m willing to risk it if you are.” Jenson imagined when people found out that he had fallen for you, the nanny, tongues would wag.
He was right, of course. You two ended up being a huge scandal around town.
It hadn’t mattered.
“I don’t give a fuck what other people say and last night was…God, baby.” He chuckles, easing his way into the nickname.
Your heart squeezes. Baby.
“Last night was…” He laughs again, shaking his head.
He wouldn’t have been able to predict how well last night had gone. It had meant everything.
“I’d been working up the courage to kiss you all night. And then when we were on the couch after the movie and you were right there, you were so close.” Jenson pauses, reliving the moments just before he had pressed his lips to yours, warm and inviting and everything he’d been dreaming about for weeks now.
“I suspect you kept scooting towards me the entire time, weren’t you? Cheeky girl.” He wasn’t wrong. You smirk.
“You just looked so warm and cozy and you smelled so good, I couldn’t resist.” The way he’d kissed you on the couch you’d already spent so much time on was something you’d never forget.
Soft. Tender. Reverent. Like he never wanted the moment to end. You certainly hadn’t.
“I know this is…not conventional but I want to give this a try.”
This. You and Jenson. Something that felt right and natural and a little bit dangerous.
“I can’t get you off my mind.” His confession hangs, heavy and thick.
“The girls are with their mom until Wednesday.” He says it like an invitation.
“Maybe we could do something tonight?”
Pause. He was getting ahead of himself, wasn’t he? Fuck.
“Too much?” Jenson winces. The last thing he wants to do is scare you off.
You both were risking so much by giving this chemistry between you a chance to bloom. He didn’t want to fuck it up.
“Not enough for me, if we’re being honest.” He felt like he was 18-years-old again. Fumbling and dumb.
“God, I’m in so much trouble with you.” Jenson chuckles, low and thick. It sends a shiver down your spine.
“Okay, I’m going to hang up now before I really embarrass myself. Call me if you want to do something tonight. Even if it’s just us making out on my couch.”
Another laugh.
Click.
Overheard.
“Daddy! What do you mean she won’t be our nanny anymore?” Gracie wails.
You frown at the phone. You can hear dual sniffles, slightly muffled, like they’re farther away than the phone would like.
“Why is she leaving us, daddy?” That’s Molly. She’s upset too.
“Girls.” Jenson soothes. “Girls. It’s okay. Really.” He leans over, resting his elbows on the kitchen counter. The girls sit opposite of him, plates of pancakes and bacon sat in front of them for their Saturday morning breakfast.
“She’s not going to be your nanny anymore because well…” Jenson wasn’t quite sure how he should word this. The girls were young, sure but they were old enough to understand.
“You know Michael is Mummy’s boyfriend?”
“Yeah…” Gracie is skeptical as to where this is going. Molly just blinks.
“Well, she’s not going to be your nanny anymore because she’s my girlfriend.”
Silence.
“WHAT?” Molly and Gracie shout in tandem.
“Is…is that okay?” Jenson wasn’t prepared for what would happen if the girls rejected this news. His heart hammered, chest constricting at the possibility.
The way grins split both of his girls faces instantly set Jenson’s mind at ease though. This was going to be fine.
“So she’s not leaving us?” Molly asks in her delicate 4-year-old voice.
“No, honey.” Jenson shakes his head, a relieved smile pulling onto his face.
“She’ll still be around and taking care of you, she just won’t be your nanny anymore.”
It had been a tricky conversation but one that had needed to happen. Details were still being ironed out, but this was step one of untangling your professional relationship while your personal relationship with Jenson grew fast and strong.
“In fact, you’re probably going to be seeing her a lot more than you did when she was your nanny. Is that…okay with you girls?”
You couldn’t see it, but both Molly and Gracie nodded their heads vigorously.
“Are you going to kiss her?” Molly chimes in.
Jenson chokes on a laugh.
“Probably.” A smile crinkles at the corners of his eyes.
“Will she still tuck me in at night?” Gracie asks. She depends on your bedtimes stories now.
“Of course.” Jenson nods.
“And she’ll cook us dinner? She’s a lot better at making dinner than you are, daddy.” That was Molly, a serious fan of your cooking.
“If you want her to.” Jenson laughs, full and bright.
“She loves us.” Molly says solemnly.
“Yes she does, bug.” Jenson answers, just as seriously.
Your love for his girls had never been in doubt. Not since the first day you’d started caring for them.
“Does she love you?” Gracie asks.
Jenson sways on his feet, the full force of the innocent question nearly bowling him over.
“Well,” He struggles.
Your heart stops.
You do, you realize. You do love him.
“I don’t know. We haven’t talked about that yet.” He sounds anxious and you suddenly can’t wait to confirm what you just figured out yourself.
“Do you love her?” That’s Molly.
Silence.
Jenson thinks. He knew the answer immediately but he’s almost afraid to vocalize it. It’s only been six months since your first kiss. Is this…too fast? Too much?
“I think so.” He manages around a thick knot of emotion that’s suddenly settled in his throat.
“Good.” Gracie says.
“Yeah. Good.” Molly agrees.
“Daddy…” Gracie starts and Jenson looks over at his daughter. “Why does your phone say her name on it now?”
“Or maybe my old man habits are just rubbing off on you and you’ve fallen asleep on the couch already.” He teases.
You never missed an opportunity to remind him how old he was. He never missed an opportunity to remind you that you were the one that fell in love with an old man.
“ I just got back to the hotel, wanted to check on my girls.”
A pause. Sheets shuffle as Jenson sits on the edge of the bed. He glances at your contact photo on his phone. You and him and Molly and Gracie, all piled together on vacation earlier in the year.
“All of my girls.”
You’d never get tired of being called his, of belonging to Jenson.
“I rescheduled my flight to leave a bit earlier from Spain so I should be home before bedtime, hopefully.” He leans back onto the headboard, closing his eyes.
“If I don’t quit live on air after having to deal with Danica for another six hours.” Jenson groans just thinking about his coworker.
“Anyway, I miss you. God, I miss you.” He whispers, voice dropping an octave as he mentally goes over exactly what parts of you he misses.
“I’m so glad you finally agreed to move in with us. Not having to say goodbye to you twice is just…lovely.”
That had certainly been a big step. One that had been nerve-racking and anxiety inducing. One that felt big and scary but natural and like it was the next step all at once.
“I don’t think I’ll ever get enough of waking up next to you.” He muses, rubbing at the back of his neck.
“Coming home to the girls was always the highlight of my weekends away.” He pauses, remembering what it was like before he had to say goodbye to you when he got home.
Now he doesn’t.
“But you being there too? God, Baby.”
You’ll never tire of hearing him call you that.
“Your things being with our things, you being in our family now. The place finally feels…complete. Like this was how it was always supposed to be.”
Jenson falls silent, reflecting on how much has changed since you came into his life. He wasn’t sure what he’d done to deserve you, but he was never going to allow you to walk away.
The Tiffany blue box in the far corner of his closet, hidden beneath a pile winter jumpers, was going to ensure that. Jenson was certain of it.
“I’m going to order room service and eat, I’m famished. FaceTime me later? I want to see your pretty face before I go to sleep.” He grinned, once again looking down at the photo that was displayed on his phone.
pairing : sugar daddy!jenson button x sugar baby!reader
summary : art and money have always been the two constants in y/n's life, what happens when those two constants result in a sugar daddy who happens to own an art gallery?
warnings/notes : swearing, smut, protected sex (please use a condom!), daddy kink, oral (both!receiving), face-fucking, multiple orgasms, photography and filming (in an nsfw context), nipple play, hair pulling, fingering, public-ish sex, praise kink, use of "baby" and "daddy"
word count : 2.5k
a/n : I KEEP THINKING OF GOJO CUZ OF THE TITLE LMFAOOOO (probs gonna change the title)
main masterlist | kinktober masterlist
Jenson stood in the center of his gallery, the soft glow of the lights illuminating the various paintings and sculptures that adorned the walls. He smiled as he heard the click of heels approaching, turning to see Y/n walking towards him, her hips swaying seductively with each step.
"There you are, my dear," Jenson purred, his eyes roaming over Y/n's curvaceous figure appreciatively. "I was beginning to think you wouldn't show up."
Y/n giggled, pressing herself against Jenson's firm chest. "And miss out on seeing the new collection? Never." She leaned in, her lips brushing against Jenson's ear as she whispered, "Besides, I had a feeling you might have something special planned for us tonight."
Jenson chuckled, his hand sliding down to rest on Y/n's lower back. "Oh, I always have something special in mind when it comes to you, my sweet." He led her further into the gallery, pointing out various pieces as they walked.
As they made their way through the gallery, Jenson couldn't take his eyes off Y/n's alluring figure. Her tight dress hugged her curves in all the right places, and he found himself growing harder with each step.
"This piece here is particularly striking," Jenson said, gesturing to a large abstract painting. "The way the colors blend together, it's almost... sensual."
Y/n tilted her head, studying the painting. "Mmm, I can see that. It's quite... stimulating." She turned to face Jenson, a mischievous glint in her eye. "Almost as stimulating as the way you're looking at me right now."
Jenson's breath hitched as Y/n pressed her body against his, her hands roaming over his chest. "You're playing with fire, little one," he growled, his voice low and husky.
"Maybe I like the heat," Y/n purred, her lips hovering just inches from his.
Jenson couldn't hold back any longer. He grabbed Y/n's waist and spun her around, pinning her against the wall with his body. His lips crashed against hers in a hungry kiss, his tongue delving into her mouth to taste her sweetness.
Y/n moaned into the kiss, her fingers tangling in Jenson's hair as she arched her back, pressing her ample breasts against his chest. She could feel his hardness pressing insistently against her thigh, and it only fueled her desire.
Jenson's hands roamed over Y/n's body, caressing her curves and leaving trails of fire in their wake. He gripped her ass, squeezing the supple flesh as he ground his hips against hers.
"You drive me crazy," Jenson groaned, breaking the kiss to trail his lips down Y/n's neck. "I can't get enough of you."
Jenson continued to place kisses along Y/n's neck, relishing in the taste of her skin. However, he felt her push him away gently, and he looked up to see a nervous expression on her face.
"What if someone sees us?" Y/n asked, her voice trembling slightly.
Jenson smirked, his eyes gleaming with mischief. "Don't worry, my dear. This part of the gallery is closed to the public for the moment. But even if someone did see us, who cares? Let them watch."
Y/n's eyes widened at Jenson's words, a mix of excitement and apprehension coursing through her veins. She bit her lower lip, considering the thrill of being caught in such a compromising position.
"You're right," she whispered, her voice filled with a newfound confidence. "Let them watch."
Y/n's hands moved swiftly, tugging at Jenson's blazer and unbuttoning his dress shirt with a sense of urgency. She wanted to feel his skin against hers, to lose herself in the heat of the moment.
Jenson watched her with a hungry gaze, his own hands working to remove her dress. The fabric pooled at her feet, leaving her in nothing but a lacy bra and panties. He drank in the sight of her, his eyes roaming over her exposed flesh appreciatively.
"You're absolutely breathtaking," Jenson murmured, his voice thick with desire. He reached out, his fingers tracing the curve of her breast, teasing her hardened nipple through the thin material of her bra.
Y/n gasped, arching into his touch. She reached behind her back, unclasping her bra and letting it fall to the floor. Her breasts bounced free, and Jenson couldn't resist leaning down to capture one of her nipples in his mouth, sucking and nibbling on the sensitive bud.
Y/n's breath hitched as Jenson's mouth worked on her nipple, her fingers threading through his hair. The sensation was too much, and she found herself arching into him, her body begging for more.
"Daddy, please..." she moaned, the word slipping out without her realizing.
Jenson's eyes flashed with lust, the endearment sending a shiver down his spine. He released her nipple with a pop, his gaze locking onto hers. "What do you want, my sweet little girl?"
Y/n's cheeks flushed, her eyes dark with desire. "I want you to take me, right here, against this wall."
Jenson grinned, his cock throbbing in anticipation. "Consider it done." With that, he slid his hand between Y/n's legs, finding her already wet and ready for him. He slipped a finger inside her, feeling her clench around him.
"Oh, fuck," Y/n breathed, her head falling back as she felt the exquisite pleasure building within her.
Y/n's moans echoed through the gallery as Jenson's fingers worked their magic inside her. She couldn't help but cry out, "Daddy, oh god, daddy!" as he expertly stroked her most sensitive spots.
"That's it, baby," Jenson growled, his voice low and husky. "Let everyone hear how much you love daddy's fingers inside you."
Y/n's body trembled with each thrust of Jenson's fingers, her juices coating his hand. She could feel her climax approaching, her muscles tensing as she neared the edge.
"Fuck, daddy, I'm gonna cum," she panted, her nails digging into Jenson's shoulders. "Please, don't stop!"
Jenson increased his pace, his thumb rubbing circles around her clit as he continued to plunge his fingers deep inside her. "Cum for me, baby. Show me how much you love daddy."
As Y/n's orgasm crashed over her, she buried her face in the crook of Jenson's neck, muffling her screams of ecstasy. Her body shook with the force of her climax, her inner walls clenching around Jenson's fingers as she rode out the waves of pleasure.
Jenson held her close, his own arousal straining against his pants. He could feel her heart racing, her breath coming in short, sharp gasps as she slowly came down from her high.
"That was incredible," Jenson murmured, his lips brushing against Y/n's ear. "But we're not done yet, are we?"
Y/n pulled back, her eyes hazy with lust. "No, we're not," she agreed, her voice barely above a whisper. She reached for Jenson's belt, quickly undoing it and tugging his pants and boxers down in one swift motion.
Y/n's eyes widened as Jenson's impressive member sprang free, standing at attention and begging for her touch. She licked her lips, her gaze locked onto his throbbing cock.
"Can I suck you off, daddy?" she asked, her voice dripping with desire.
Jenson groaned, his hips bucking forward involuntarily. "Fuck yes, baby. I want to feel those pretty lips wrapped around my cock."
Y/n wasted no time, dropping to her knees and taking Jenson's shaft into her mouth. She swirled her tongue around the tip, savoring the taste of his pre-cum before taking him deeper.
Jenson's head fell back, his eyes closing in bliss as Y/n worked her magic. Her mouth was hot and wet, and the sensation of her tongue sliding along his length was driving him wild.
Y/n's mouth felt incredible, and Jenson couldn't hold back any longer. He grabbed her head, his fingers tangling in her hair as he began to thrust into her mouth.
"Oh, fuck, baby," Jenson groaned, his hips moving faster and harder with each passing second. "Your mouth feels so damn good."
Y/n moaned around his cock, the vibrations sending shivers of pleasure through Jenson's body. She relaxed her throat, taking him deeper as he fucked her face with abandon.
Jenson could feel his climax approaching, his balls tightening as he neared the edge. He looked down at Y/n, her eyes watering and her lips stretched around his shaft, and the sight only spurred him on.
"I'm gonna cum, baby," Jenson warned, his voice strained with the effort to hold back. "Swallow every last drop for daddy."
Y/n nodded eagerly, her hand moving to cup his balls, gently massaging them as he continued to thrust into her mouth.
With a final, powerful thrust, Jenson buried himself deep in Y/n's throat, his cock pulsing as he released his load. Y/n swallowed greedily, her throat working to take every last drop of his essence.
Jenson's body shuddered with the intensity of his orgasm, his grip on Y/n's hair tightening as he rode out the waves of pleasure. As he finally pulled out, he saw strands of his cum dripping down Y/n's chin, and the sight made his spent cock twitch.
"You look so beautiful like this," Jenson murmured, his thumb wiping away the remnants of his release from Y/n's lips. "My perfect little cum slut."
Y/n smiled up at him, her eyes shining with adoration and satisfaction. "Thank you, daddy," she purred, her voice husky from the rough treatment her throat had just received.
Jenson helped her to her feet, his hands roaming over her body appreciatively. "You're welcome, baby. You did such a good job, I think you deserve a reward."
He led her further into the gallery, to a secluded alcove where a plush chaise lounge awaited. Jenson guided Y/n onto the lounge, positioning her on her hands and knees. He knelt behind her, his fingers trailing up her thighs, teasing the sensitive skin.
"Spread your legs for daddy," Jenson commanded, his voice low and authoritative. "I wanna see you."
Y/n complied, her legs parting to reveal her glistening folds. Jenson groaned, his cock already hardening again at the sight. He leaned in, his tongue darting out to taste her, his fingers spreading her open for better access.
Jenson's tongue delved into Y/n's wetness, flicking and circling her clit as his fingers continued to spread her wide. Y/n moaned, her head falling forward onto the chaise lounge as she arched her back, her body begging for more.
"Please, daddy, I need you inside me," she pleaded, her voice shaking with need.
Jenson smiled against her folds, his fingers slipping inside her as he continued to torment her clit with his tongue. "Not yet, baby. I want to make you scream first."
Y/n's hips bucked, her body trembling as Jenson's expert ministrations brought her closer and closer to the edge. She could feel her climax building once more, the tension coiling within her.
"Daddy, I'm gonna cum," she cried out, her body tensing as she approached the peak. "Please, let me..."
Jenson removed his fingers and tongue, leaving Y/n panting and desperate for release. "Not yet," he repeated, his voice firm. "You'll cum when I'm inside you."
Y/n whimpered, her body aching for release as Jenson teased her mercilessly. She could feel the heat pooling in her core, her juices dripping down her thighs as she begged for him to take her.
"Please, daddy, I need you so badly," she pleaded, her voice raw with desperation. "I can't take it anymore."
Jenson chuckled, his hand reaching into his wallet to retrieve a condom. He tore open the packet, rolling the latex down his length with practiced ease. "I know, baby. I'm going to give you exactly what you need."
He positioned himself behind Y/n, the head of his cock teasing her entrance. With a swift thrust, he buried himself inside her, filling her completely.
"Oh, fuck, yes!" Y/n cried out, her body stretching to accommodate his size. "You feel so good, daddy."
Jenson groaned, his hips beginning to move in a steady rhythm. "You're so tight, baby. Your pussy feels amazing."
Jenson pulled out of Y/n, causing her to whine in protest. He reached into his pocket, retrieving his phone. "Hold on, baby," he said, his voice tinged with excitement. "I want to capture this moment."
Y/n's eyes widened as Jenson set his phone up, positioning it to catch their every movement. "Daddy, are you going to..." she trailed off, her cheeks flushing with a mixture of embarrassment and arousal.
Jenson grinned, his eyes filled with lust as he repositioned himself behind Y/n. "Yes, baby. I want to see that pretty face of yours on video. Besides, it's a turn-on knowing someone might walk in and see us."
Y/n bit her lip, her heart racing as Jenson resumed his thrusts. The thought of being caught only added to the excitement.
"Fuck, daddy, you're so big," Y/n moaned, her voice thick with pleasure. "I never knew sex could be this good."
Jenson's phone captured every movement, every sound, and every expression of pleasure on Y/n's face. The camera lens zoomed in on her bouncing breasts, her face contorted in ecstasy, and the way her body writhed beneath him.
"Look at you, baby," Jenson growled, his hips snapping forward with increased force. "You're so fucking sexy. I can't get enough of you."
Y/n's moans grew louder, her body trembling as she neared her climax once again. "Daddy, I'm so close," she panted, her nails digging into the fabric of the chaise lounge. "Please, don't stop."
Jenson could feel his own release approaching, his balls tightening as he pounded into Y/n's willing body. He reached around, his fingers finding her clit and rubbing it in tight circles, pushing her over the edge.
Y/n's moans grew louder and more intense as Jenson's fingers worked her clit, her body convulsing with the force of her orgasm. Her cries of pleasure echoed through the gallery, and it was clear that anyone on that floor could hear her.
"Oh, god, daddy, yes!" Y/n screamed, her body shaking uncontrollably as wave after wave of pleasure crashed over her. "I'm cumming!"
Jenson groaned, his own climax triggered by the sound of Y/n's ecstasy. He thrust into her one last time, his cock pulsing as he released inside her. The condom muffled the sensation, but the feeling of his hot seed filling the latex was still incredibly satisfying.
As they both came down from their highs, Jenson reached for his phone, turning it off and pocketing it. He pulled out of Y/n, discarding the used condom before turning his attention back to her.
Jenson pulled Y/n into his arms, his lips finding hers in a passionate kiss. He poured all of his desire and affection into the kiss, his tongue dancing with hers as he savored her taste.
When they finally broke apart, Jenson cupped Y/n's face in his hands, his eyes shining with admiration. "You were incredible, baby," he murmured, his voice filled with genuine praise. "The way you submitted to me, the sounds you made... it was perfect."
Y/n blushed, her heart swelling with pride at Jenson's words. "Thank you, daddy," she whispered, her fingers tracing patterns on his chest. "You made me feel so good."
Jenson smiled, pressing a gentle kiss to her forehead. "I'm glad, baby. You deserve to feel that way"
Y/n giggled, her eyes sparkling with mischief. "As much as I'd love to stay in your arms forever, I should probably go get my dress from the other room before someone comes looking for us."
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for all posts; @nepobbylver @wobblymug @xoscar03 @irishmanwhore
. . . it's 2009, jenson button is on the top, alongside his marvelous season in f1 he also acquired the interest of drivers and fans with his mystery woman
jensonbutton uploaded a new story
[she's real, unless i married a ghost for the last 9 years]
If so could you write something (2nd person) where Jenson and reader work together at SkySports and he is WHIPPED for reader? Maybe something sweet and fluffy where reader is so focused that she doesn't even realize that Jenson is flirting with her all the time?
Thank you for hearing me out, and if you don't write for JB feel free to totally ignore this!! ❤️
Thank you so much for the request! This was such a fun one to work on — I took some liberty with how much she notices or chooses to ignore his flirting, but whipped!Jenson was a delight to write regardless. I loved balancing his playful side with something a little softer (and sassy!britney I MEAN NICO ofc.)
Hope you enjoy! 💕
Tea Runs ☕︎ JB22 One-Shot
“Tea’s gone cold.”
You’ve been working as a technical commentator at Sky Sports for a while now, focused on proving you still belong in the sport after leaving Mercedes. Jenson Button, charming as ever, has been hovering around you all season — which you chalk up to pitying kindness. But when his antics get bolder and the truth comes out, you realize you’ve been oblivious to something much bigger: Jenson hasn’t been doting. He’s been flirting. Badly.
✦ starring: Jenson Button x Colleague!Reader
✦ Warnings: mild language, brief mention of mental health struggles/burnout, lots of teasing/flirting, a little pining, and a soft-but-thrilling kiss at the end.
✦ word count: ~2.K total (one shot)
✦ Tags: Jenson Button x Reader, second-person POV, coworkers-to-something-more, whipped!Jenson, oblivious!Reader, teasing, fluff with a touch of tension, post-race parking lot confession, happy ending.
✦Rules ✦ One Shots, Requests, & Smuts Masterlist✦ AO3 Work✦ Next → ✦
Have an idea or prompt for a future one shot or mini series? Check out my submission rules and send me an ask!
Hospitality Suite – Morning of FP1
It was always like this on race weekends—controlled chaos wrapped in the hum of generators, the distant shriek of an F1 engine on an installation lap, and the constant shuffle of people who seemed to know exactly where they were going while you double-checked every note in your binder for the tenth time.
You kept your head down in the Sky hospitality suite, highlighter in one hand and tea in the other, breaking down sector deltas for the commentary segment you’d be leading later. You’d worked in Formula One for years, but this—this was different. You weren’t an engineer anymore. You were in front of cameras now. You still felt like you had something to prove every time the red light blinked on.
When you’d first joined Brawn as a junior engineer back in '09, you’d seen Jenson Button in the paddock more than once. He’d been world champion Jenson Button then—impossibly polished, charming, part of that untouchable club of drivers you could only admire from afar. You’d nursed a quiet, almost embarrassing crush in those early days, same as half the women in the garages, daydreaming about brief conversations that never happened and replaying every smile he sent in your direction. He was dazzling then, larger than life, and you had been too young and too green not to be enchanted.
But that was a lifetime ago. These days, you were older, steadier, tempered by far more serious challenges than a silly crush. You’d long since filed those girlish daydreams away as youthful foolishness. Whatever Jenson was now—colleague, occasional co-commentator, serial tea-bringer—he was certainly not someone who’d look at you like that.
You sighed for a moment, leaning back and letting your gaze drift out over the paddock from the Sky suite. Below, your old team, Mercedes, swarmed around their garage like a well-oiled machine, silver uniforms flashing in the sun as engineers and mechanics moved in a rhythm you once knew by heart. The smell of fuel and the distant whine of engines carried faintly through the glass, and for a moment the ache of missing that world tugged at you. You missed the pre-dawn strategy meetings, huddled over laptops with coffee that tasted like burnt tar; the white-hot adrenaline of a perfect call landing exactly as planned; the quiet pride of watching your work ripple out onto the track, almost invisible to the viewers at home but monumental to you.
But then you remembered why you’d left—and the thought always disappeared. Mercedes had been… a lot. The decision to leave had been yours, but it hadn’t come without whispered rumors and sympathetic looks. No one asked for details, and you hadn’t offered them. Health reasons was all anyone got. That was safer. Easier than trying to explain how the constant pressure, the travel, the endless performance reviews had hollowed you out.
Now, at Sky, people were polite to a fault. They called it kindness, but you knew what it really was: walking on eggshells. Crofty never spoke over you on-air, Brundle never challenged your opinions too sharply, and the other women on the team simpered over you like you might break at any moment. No one wanted to push you too hard, upset you, give you any reason to bolt again.
“Tea’s gone cold.”
You jumped at the voice, glancing up to see Jenson himself setting a fresh cup beside you. His shirt sleeves were pushed up to his elbows, forearms dusted with a faint tan, and his hair was slightly mussed in a way that made him look irritatingly effortless. You faintly registered the soft stubble along his jaw, a shade darker than his hair, before tearing your eyes away and back down to your notes.
“You really don’t have to keep doing that,” you said with a faint smile, already half-burying yourself back in your strategy commentart.
“Doing what?”
“Running around getting me tea. I’m not going to fall apart without it.”
He only grinned, leaning one hip against the table like he had nowhere else to be. “Maybe I like keeping you on your toes then. You look like you’d work yourself into the ground if left alone.”
You blinked up at him, more thrown by his tone than his words. He said it casually, like it wasn’t loaded, like it wasn’t one more person taking care not to push you too hard. Maybe he was always like this—Jenson Button, who’d always been charming, always throwing those easy smiles around for anyone within reach. Of course he’s like this, you thought. He acts like this with everyone. And with me? He’s only doting because he feels bad. Babying me because no one wants to be the one who tips me over the edge.
“Thanks,” you said finally, flatter than you meant to, waving him off as you refocused on your notes. “That’s… kind of you, but really unnecessary.”
Jenson paused, like he wanted to say something else, then only shrugged, pushing away from the table.
Over his shoulder, as he started to leave, he tossed out, “You’ll thank me when you’re not running on fumes later,” voice edged with a mild charm that you chose to ignore as you bent back over your binder.
Free Practice 1 – Commentator’s Box
The commentator’s box smelled faintly of coffee and electronics, humming with the low buzz of equipment as FP1 footage flickered across a wall of monitors. You’d tucked yourself into the corner of the desk with your laptop, headphones perched around your neck, reviewing split times for the upcoming broadcast. It was busy but oddly calming up there — a bird’s-eye view of the sport you used to live from the inside out.
Jenson, of course, had taken the seat right next to yours despite a row of others being empty. He angled his body toward you, knees pointed just so, like the rest of the room didn’t exist. When he leaned over to glance at your notes, the faint smell of his cologne, clean and a little woody, reached you, and you forced yourself to keep your eyes on the data instead of the way his shirt stretched across his shoulder.
“You’re working too hard again,” he said lightly, glancing from your screen to your face. “It’s practice, not the final race.”
You huffed a short laugh, still typing. “Old habits die hard.”
“Not all of them,” he said, voice lower, almost teasing, though you didn't seem to get the weight of it, chalking it up to his usual, easy-going charm.
"You two glued at the hip now?”
Nico Rosberg’s voice cut across the commentator’s box as he dropped into the seat opposite you. You felt a small, surprising flicker of relief at seeing him. You’d worked with Nico for years at Mercedes, and the familiarity was grounding. You’d always gotten on well with him, and he remained one of the few who still treated you like a normal, competent colleague rather than something fragile.
You rolled your eyes before glancing up from your laptop, making enough room for Nico to drop into the seat. “We work the same sessions,” you said, already turning back to your screen. “I could say the same about you and Danica.”
Nico scoffed softly, amused. “Right, that must be it.”
To your left, Jenson sat up straighter, shoulders squaring slightly as Nico settled in. Nico eyed him with a sly little smirk. “What’s with you? Can’t find shirts that fit anymore, or do you just wear them tight on purpose to hide the beer gut?”
Jenson threw him a look, half assumed, half flustered, before replying, “Don’t you have graphics of Lewis to review, Britney?”
The words were playful but carried a little bite, enough to make you glance between them.
You chalked it up to lingering competitiveness—two former drivers who’d once fought wheel-to-wheel, maybe still sparring in subtler ways off-track.
But you did notice Nico’s grin when he glanced at you, then back at Jenson. Nico chuckled and pulled on his headset. “Sure, sure. Don’t let me interrupt your… prep Jenson.”
You rolled your eyes and went back to your telemetry data. Men.
Qualifying — Grid Walk
The grid before quali was always a madhouse: celebrities posing for cameras, engineers making last-minute adjustments, media crews jostling for position. You’d learned to keep your elbows out and your head down since starting with SkySports, but it didn’t stop the occasional shoulder from knocking into you.
“Easy there.”
Jenson’s hand was suddenly on your waist, steadying you before you stumbled into a camera operator. He didn’t move his hand until you’d found your footing again, then subtly shifted his body to walk between you and the crowd.
“You really don’t have to babysit me,” you said, half exasperated.
“Who said I’m babysitting?” he replied lightly.
Then he was crouching slightly to adjust your headset so it sat more comfortably, his fingers brushing the side of your face as he worked. Years ago, that tiny gesture would’ve set off alarm bells in your younger, wide-eyed self—the one who used to blush just being in the same room as him. Now, you just assumed it was part of his ingrained habit of being gallant with women.
“There,” he said, giving the headset one last adjustment. “Can’t have you going live looking like the wires are strangling you.”
You gave him a flat, even frustrated look as you adjusted your shirt and glanced around at the bustling grid, suddenly embarrassed at the idea everyone thought you couldn’t handle yourself.
“You should worry about yourself for a change.”
Nico saddled up next to you with a microphone, smirking. “He does that plenty, don't worry.” he quipped, his mic lowered. “Jenson already spent an hour on his hair before we got here.”
The joke earned a tiny smile from you despite yourself. Out of the corner of your eye, you caught Jenson shoot Nico a small look before they got on air—maybe telling him to calm it down it with the ribbing. You felt his eyes on you a moment later, but you chalked it up to some ongoing feud between them you didn’t know about.
By the time the broadcast wrapped, you’d barely noticed how close Jenson had gotten to you, his arm brushing yours, until you were walking away and the space between you returned.
Post-Quali — Hospitality Suite
If Jenson wasn’t glued to your side, he was orbiting just close enough to step in whenever you needed something before you could ask. A refill on your water. A missing set of notes. Even offering his jacket when the wind picked up between segments.
Nico caught him handing you a granola bar before your live hit and shook his head with a quiet laugh, leaning against the table with the easy posture of someone who knew exactly how to get under Jenson’s skin.
“You do realize people are going to start thinking you’re her personal assistant, right?” he teased, his eyes flicking between the two of you before landing on Jenson.
You swiveled in your chair. “Don’t encourage him, Nico, or he'll follow me home next checking on my pantry stock.”
“Right,” Nico said again, still smirking over his coffee cup at Jenson in a way that made it obvious the jab wasn’t just for fun. “He'd never do that."
Jenson seemed to tense a tiny bit beside you, his jaw flexing as though biting back a retort before finally leaning back with a quippy, “Funny, I always assumed you were her footrest at Mercedes, since Lewis was too busy winning to need one.”
The comeback had a sharper edge than his usual banter, though Nico only laughed, unfazed.
“I’ll have a name tag made for you next race then,” Nico shot back smoothly, “so people don’t confuse you for a commentator.”
Jenson brushed it off with a shrug that didn’t quite reach his eyes.
By the time the post-race debrief wrapped, most of the Sky crew had filtered out. You were still there, poring over data for next week’s race, when Jenson slid into the chair beside you with two cups of tea. There was a watchfulness to the way he settled in, like he was still puzzling something out.
“You know,” he said conversationally, “most people would’ve wrapped up hours ago."
"What do you want, Jenson." Your voice came out sharper than intended, head still bent over your notes.
“You waiting on someone? I saw Nico still lingering around earlier.” He asked it casually enough, but there was a probing edge beneath the words, like he was fishing for something. His eyes flicked toward you, curious, maybe even a little too curious.
You glanced up briefly, confused, the insinuation stinging. “No. Why would I do that?” You weren’t following Nico around like some lost kid, and the implication left a sour taste in your mouth. That you were incapable of doing anything on your own.
But Jenson shifted in his seat, sprawling a little as he leaned back, one knee angled toward you in an easy spread, arm draped lazily across his chest. His smirk deepened, gaze lingering with a boldness you weren’t used to, and it made you all too aware of how close he actually was—and how strong he still looked despite being retired.
“So you really just can’t be persuaded to take a break then, can you?” he chuckled, though there was a question under the words you didn’t quite catch.
You shifted uncomfortably, tearing your eyes back to your notes. It was odd, the way he’d gone from casual to openly… something. But you brushed it off. Jenson was just being Jenson—still babying you like everyone else.
“Not if I want to keep my job.”
“Come on.” He smirked. “If anyone’s job is safe here, it’s yours.”
You rolled your eyes. “Flattery won’t work on me.”
“Who said I’m flattering you?” He leaned back in his chair, arm draped over the backrest, looking at you like he had all the time in the world. Once upon a time, you might’ve let yourself imagine what it meant for Jenson Button to look at you like that. But that was years ago, and you’d long since outgrown those kinds of fantasies.
You laughed derisively and shook your head. “You really don’t have to do this, you know. All the hovering. The tea. The food runs. Everyone already treats me like I need to be coddled. I don't need everyone to try so hard to be on my good side.”
The joking edge dropped from his face, his brows knitting. “Coddled?”
You nodded without looking at him. “It’s fine. I know why people do it. I didn't exactly build the nicest reputation at Mercedes, and the way I left the team wasn’t really ... subtle.”
Your throat tightened as you said it, the words tasting like something sour. You didn’t like talking about Mercedes, about that ugly, messy exit. because it always left you feeling small and ashamed, like you’d failed at something you loved.
“Everyone feels bad for me. It’s—whatever. I’ve learned to live with it.”
Silence. Long enough that you looked up, and found him leaning forward, closer than you’d realized, his expression soft and serious.
“That’s… not why I do any of that,” he said finally, his voice quieter now, stripped of its teasing lilt.
You blinked. “What?”
“I don’t run around after you because I pity you,” he said, holding your gaze. “I do it because I like being around you. Honestly, I always did — even back at Brawn. You do know that, right?”
Your brain stuttered. You were taken aback, heat creeping up your neck as you processed his words — ashamed that you’d so easily assumed the worst, and flustered that he remembered you from back then at all.
“Oh. I just assumed.”
Jenson gave a crooked, almost disbelieving smile, the realization flickering across his face that you truly had no idea he’d been flirting with you this whole time. “Well, you know what they say,” he teased, voice light but with a glint of hidde enjoyment, “assuming makes an ass out of you and me. Well—mostly you.”
The words landed with heat that climbed up your neck, and you blushed, acutely aware of the way his eyes lingered on your cheeks, his grin spreading just a little wider as though savoring your reaction.
It felt unnervingly like being back at Brawn, blushing under his casual hellos, and you hated how easy it still was for him to pull that from you. Jenson seemed to think so too.
“Ah,” he said with a grin that turned knowing, “now that face brings back memories.”
The teasing only deepened the color in your cheeks. You shot out of your chair like it was on fire. “I—uh—I should get back to my hotel.”
“Let me walk you out then.”
The walk to the lot was quiet but charged, every step weighed down by the things unsaid. Jenson kept the pace slow, falling just close enough that his arm brushed yours occasionally, his quips light but needling—“Still blushing? Thought you’d have cooled off by now”—designed to keep you squirming.
By the time you reached your car, your fingers felt clumsy on the keys, fumbling as you tried to unlock the door. “You always this bad with keys, or just when I’m around?” Jenson teased, his tone light but pointed.
You snapped back a flustered, “Maybe I just don’t like being watched,” still refusing to look at him, your embarrassment bubbling over.
Jenson tilted his head, the smugness softening into curiosity. Then, without a word, he pushed off the hood and closed the space between you, his movement unhurried but deliberate. Before you could react, his fingers brushed yours as he gently pried the keys from your fumbling grip, his hand lingering on yours for a beat longer than necessary.
“Look,” he said, rubbing the back of his neck, his grin faltering into something softer. “If I’ve been coming off the wrong way, I’m sorry. Maybe I pushed it too far back there. I just—” he hesitated, glancing at you with an expression that for once looked almost sheepish, “it’s the first reaction I’ve gotten out of you all season. The rubbish flirting usually works for me, so…”
It all clicked. Every single moment. Every coffee run, every teasing comment, every time his hand had lingered just a beat too long — all of it slammed into you at once. You replayed the entire season in your head in fast-forward, cringing at how completely oblivious and stupid you’d been not to see it.
You felt your face go up in flames.
“You could’ve just said something,” you blurted, horrified at your own voice.
He chuckled, the sound soft. “I kind of did. Nico caught on. Pretty sure everyone else did, too.”
“Oh my God,” you groaned, burying your face in your hands. “All those jokes—”
“All those jokes,” he echoed, stepping closer, clearly enjoying himself as his shoulder brushed yours. His grin had softened into something warmer, but his eyes flicked between your hands and your face, lingering on your flushed cheeks like he was cataloging every reaction. The teasing lilt in his voice was balanced with something intent, almost hungry for more of that flustered honesty from you.
When you finally looked up, he was watching you expectantly, leaning in just slightly, his grin soft but unrelenting.
“You should’ve been more straightforward,” you muttered, your voice smaller than you intended. “Instead of all the tea and… everything.”
His grin widened as if savoring the admission, a spark of triumph flickering in his expression. His voice stayed low, teasing but steady, and it made your pulse jump.
“Noted for next time.” As he said it, he closed the space between you slowly, deliberately, each step backing you up against your car until your shoulders met cool metal.
“Next time?”
“Dinner,” he said simply, now close enough that you could feel the faint warmth of his breath. “To make up for how hopeless I’ve been at this.”
The nearness made your head swim. Your heart hammered as your senses sharpened—the faint cologne clinging to his shirt, the warmth radiating off him, the way his gaze kept dipping to your lips. You hesitated only a beat before nodding, dizzy from the closeness and the realization of how many ways you’d always found him attractive—the curve of his jaw, the strength in his shoulders, that infuriatingly easy grin—all of it crashing into you at once.
“Okay. But on one condition.”
He tilted his head, still hovering close. “Go on.”
“You don’t tell Nico.”
That earned a delighted laugh. “Deal.”
Before you could say anything else, he leaned in, one hand braced lightly against the car beside your head as his mouth found yours. The kiss was deeper than you expected, still tender but carrying just enough playful pressure, that spark of Jenson’s familiar mischief laced with something far more deliberate. It was thrilling and dizzying all at once, the kind of kiss that left no room for doubt.
He wasn’t pushing you though, his hand lingering respectfully on your arm as if giving you the option to pull away.
Day 16 → Remote-Controlled Vibrator 💋 Jenson Button
Warnings: 18+ content
Kinktober Masterlist
Jenson leans back against the pit wall, arms crossed, his eyes locked on you. You’re standing just a few feet away, microphone in hand, talking animatedly to Lando Norris. Your smile is bright, your laughter effortless.
He’s seen it a thousand times, the way you light up around drivers, the way they light up around you. But today, there’s a twist in his chest, a quiet, insistent pressure that he can’t ignore.
Lando is leaning in closer than usual, his eyes crinkling at the corners as he grins at something you say. Jenson’s jaw tightens. He knows that smile, knows it’s not just friendly. Lando’s flirting, and you’re — what? Oblivious? Playing along? Jenson isn’t sure which is worse.
“Having fun?” Martin Brundle’s voice cuts through his thoughts, casual but probing. He’s always been good at that, at picking up on things left unsaid.
Jenson forces a smile, but it doesn’t reach his eyes. “Just watching the show,” he replies, his tone light, but there’s an edge to it. His gaze doesn’t leave you.
Martin follows his line of sight, then chuckles softly. “Ah, I see. Lando’s quite the charmer, isn’t he?”
“Too charming,” Jenson mutters, almost to himself. He’s trying to keep his cool, but it’s getting harder by the second.
There’s something about the way Lando looks at you, like he’s seeing something more than just a journalist, more than just a colleague. And you — God, you’re smiling back at him like you don’t notice a damn thing.
Martin raises an eyebrow. “Jealous, are we?”
“Not jealous,” Jenson says, a bit too quickly. Then, quieter, “Just … protective.”
Martin claps him on the shoulder. “Well, she’s yours, isn’t she?”
Jenson nods, but the tension in his chest doesn’t ease. His. The word feels heavy, like a responsibility, like a promise. He watches as you and Lando exchange a few more words, then you laugh again, this time reaching out to lightly touch Lando’s arm. It’s a brief moment, but it feels like a punch to the gut.
“Excuse me,” Jenson says abruptly, pushing off the wall and striding towards you.
You don’t notice him at first, too caught up in whatever Lando’s saying. But then he’s there, a solid presence at your side, and your eyes flicker up to meet his. There’s a brief flash of surprise, then warmth, and you smile up at him, a smile just for him, but Jenson’s too wound up to fully appreciate it.
“Jenson!” You say, your voice a mix of surprise and happiness. “I didn’t see you there.”
“Obviously,” he says, but there’s no humor in his tone. He turns to Lando, his expression carefully neutral. “Norris.”
“Button,” Lando replies, but there’s a mischievous glint in his eye, like he knows exactly what he’s doing. “We were just talking about the upcoming race. It’s going to be a tough one.”
“Yeah, well,” Jenson says, his voice steady but firm, “she’s done her job for now. You’ve got a race to focus on, haven’t you?”
You blink up at him, a little taken aback by the sudden change in his demeanor. “Jenson, we were just-”
“I know,” he interrupts, his eyes still on Lando. “But I’m sure Lando here has better things to do than chat all day, don’t you, Norris?”
There’s a challenge in his voice now, a quiet but unmistakable one. Lando’s smile doesn’t falter, but his gaze sharpens, meeting Jenson’s head-on.
“Of course,” Lando says easily, but there’s a tension in the air now, something almost electric. “Good to see you, Y/N. Catch you later?”
You nod, still trying to make sense of what’s happening, and Lando gives you one last smile before turning and walking away, leaving you alone with Jenson.
The silence that follows is heavy, filled with unspoken words and lingering tension. You shift slightly, turning to face him fully. “What was that about?”
“Nothing,” Jenson says, but it’s too quick, too clipped.
You give him a look, one eyebrow arched, calling him out without saying a word. He sighs, running a hand through his hair, clearly frustrated.
“Lando was flirting with you,” he says finally, his voice low but intense.
You blink, then laugh softly, shaking your head. “He was just being friendly, Jense. We were talking about the race, that’s all.”
“That’s not all,” he insists, his eyes locking onto yours. “He was flirting, and you-” He stops himself, taking a breath. “You didn’t stop him.”
The accusation hangs in the air, and you feel a flash of irritation. “So what, you’re accusing me of flirting back?”
“That’s not what I’m saying,” he snaps, then immediately softens, his hand reaching out to gently cup your elbow. “I’m just … look, it bothers me, okay? Watching him look at you like that, knowing how much attention you get from the other drivers. It’s-” He pauses, searching for the right words. “It’s not easy.”
You stare at him, taking in the tension in his shoulders, the concern in his eyes. “Jenson, you know I only have eyes for you, right? I talk to these guys because it’s my job, not because I’m interested in them.”
“I know that,” he says, but there’s still something unresolved in his tone, a lingering insecurity that he can’t quite shake. “But it’s not just about that. It’s about how they see you. How they think they have a chance with you.”
“But they don’t,” you say firmly, stepping closer, your voice softening. “They never have, and they never will. You’re the one I’m with. No one else.”
He closes his eyes for a moment, absorbing your words, then opens them again, his gaze softening as he looks at you. “I’m sorry,” he murmurs, his thumb brushing gently over your skin. “I just … seeing you with Lando, it got to me. I don’t like the idea of anyone thinking they can come between us.”
“They can’t,” you assure him, leaning into his touch. “And they won’t. But you have to trust me. Trust that I know where my heart is.”
He nods slowly, his grip on your elbow tightening slightly as if grounding himself in your presence. “I do trust you. It’s just — sometimes I get this feeling, this … fear, I guess. That maybe one day you’ll wake up and realize you could have anyone, and you’ll wonder why you’re with me.”
Your heart clenches at his words, and you reach up, cupping his face in your hands. “Jenson, I’m with you because I love you. Not because of what anyone else thinks or how many people flirt with me. You’re the one I choose, every day.”
His eyes search yours, and for a moment, it feels like everything else fades away — the noise of the paddock, the pressure of the job, the endless demands on both of your time. It’s just the two of you, standing together in this moment, connected by something deeper than words.
“I love you too,” he whispers, his voice rough with emotion. “More than anything.”
You smile, a soft, tender smile that makes his heart ache in the best way possible. “Then stop worrying about Lando or anyone else. You have me, okay? All of me.”
He pulls you closer, wrapping his arms around you in a tight embrace. For a long moment, you just stand there, holding each other, the rest of the world forgotten. Finally, he pulls back slightly, his forehead resting against yours.
“I’ll try,” he promises, his voice low and sincere. “But if Lando makes another move, I can’t guarantee I’ll be as calm next time.”
You laugh softly, shaking your head. “There won’t be a next time. Trust me.”
He smiles, but there’s still a hint of something unresolved in his eyes. “I just don’t want to lose you,” he admits quietly.
“You won’t,” you say firmly, your hands still resting on his chest. “You never will.”
He nods, his tension finally easing, and he leans in, pressing a soft kiss to your forehead. “Okay,” he whispers, and it’s like a promise, like he’s sealing this moment between the two of you. “Okay.”
***
Jenson zips up his travel bag, his eyes flickering towards the clock on the nightstand. You’re running late, as usual, busy with the final touches of your makeup in the bathroom. He can hear you humming softly, a familiar tune that brings a smile to his face.
“Five more minutes?” You call out from the bathroom, your voice slightly muffled by the closed door.
“We’ve got to leave in two,” Jenson replies, but there’s no real urgency in his tone. He’s used to this routine, knows you’ll make it out the door just in time. Still, something in him shifts as he glances at the bed, an idea forming in the back of his mind.
You emerge a moment later, your hair perfectly styled, lips a soft shade of pink that matches the blush on your cheeks. You’re stunning, as always, and Jenson feels that familiar stir of pride — and possessiveness. You’re his, but today, he wants to make sure you feel that, too.
“We should get going,” you say, grabbing your bag from the chair.
But Jenson moves faster, closing the distance between you in a few long strides. Before you can react, his hand is around your wrist, gently but firmly pulling you back towards the bed.
“Jenson, what are you-” You start to protest, but the look in his eyes stops you short.
“Sit down,” he says, his voice calm but authoritative.
You hesitate for a moment, caught off guard by the sudden shift in his demeanor. But there’s something in his gaze, a mixture of intent and desire, that makes your pulse quicken. You let him guide you to the edge of the bed, your heart thumping in your chest as you sit down.
Jenson kneels in front of you, his hands resting on your knees, eyes searching yours. “I’ve been thinking,” he begins, his voice low, “about what we talked about yesterday. About how much I want you, how much I need you to know you’re mine.”
You open your mouth to respond, but he presses a finger to your lips, silencing you. “Let me finish,” he says softly.
You nod, the air between you charged with anticipation.
“There’s something I want to give you,” he continues, his fingers tracing the curve of your jaw. “A reminder, something special, just between us.”
Your brow furrows slightly in confusion, but you don’t break eye contact, trying to read the intent behind his words.
Jenson reaches into his pocket and pulls out a small, elegant box. Your breath catches as he opens it, revealing a sleek, discreet toy nestled inside. Your eyes widen slightly, and you glance up at him, searching his face for any sign of uncertainty. But there’s none — only a steady resolve and a spark of mischief in his eyes.
“Jenson …” you start, your voice a mix of surprise and curiosity.
He takes the toy out of the box, his touch deliberate and gentle. “Trust me,” he murmurs, leaning in to kiss you softly, his lips brushing yours in a way that makes your heart skip a beat. “I want to take care of you, make sure you feel me, even when we’re apart.”
You swallow hard, the implications of his words sinking in. “How …”
“I’ve got it all figured out,” he says, his voice soothing, but there’s a fire in his eyes that sends a thrill down your spine. “I control it from my phone. So no matter where you are, no matter what you’re doing, you’ll know I’m there with you.”
Your heart pounds in your chest, the idea both thrilling and nerve-wracking. “But the race-”
“We have time,” he interrupts, his voice firm but tender. He slides his hands up your thighs, his touch slow and deliberate, leaving a trail of warmth in its wake. “You trust me, don’t you?”
“Of course,” you breathe, your voice barely above a whisper.
His hands reach the hem of your skirt, and he pauses, giving you one last chance to change your mind. But you don’t. You nod, a silent affirmation, and he gently pushes you back onto the bed, his movements careful and deliberate.
“Relax,” he whispers, his hands deftly parting your legs. You do as he says, your body responding to his touch, the anticipation building with every passing second. Jenson is focused, his hands steady as he places the toy exactly where he wants it, his touch both tender and possessive.
You bite your lip, the sensation already making your heart race. Jenson watches you closely, his expression one of quiet intensity. He’s enjoying this, you realize — the control, the closeness, the way your body responds to him.
“Comfortable?” He asks, his voice a low murmur, laced with something darker, more intense.
You nod, unable to find your voice, your senses heightened by the knowledge of what’s about to happen.
He reaches into his pocket again, this time pulling out his phone. He unlocks it with a swipe, his eyes never leaving yours as he opens the app. “You’ll feel me with you all day,” he says, his voice dropping to a husky whisper. “And when the moment’s right, I’ll remind you who you belong to.”
A shiver runs down your spine at his words, a delicious mix of anticipation and trepidation. “Jenson,” you murmur, a mix of nerves and excitement in your voice.
He smiles, a slow, confident smile that sends heat pooling low in your belly. “Trust me,” he repeats, his thumb hovering over the screen.
And then, without another word, he presses down.
A soft gasp escapes your lips as the toy hums to life, a gentle vibration that sends waves of pleasure rippling through your body. You grip the bedspread, your eyes widening as the sensation builds, filling you with warmth and desire.
Jenson watches your reaction closely, his eyes darkening with satisfaction. “You like that?” He asks, his voice a low rumble that vibrates through your entire body.
“Yes,” you breathe, your voice shaky but honest.
He shifts on the bed, leaning over you, his lips brushing your ear. “Good,” he murmurs, his breath hot against your skin. “Because this is just the beginning.”
He adjusts the setting, increasing the intensity, and you arch your back, a moan slipping from your lips before you can stop it. The pleasure is overwhelming, consuming, and you can’t help but cling to him, your fingers digging into his arms as he holds you steady.
“Jenson,” you gasp, your voice tinged with desperation. But he’s relentless, his control unwavering as he watches you writhe beneath him, his expression a mix of tenderness and possession.
“Just breathe,” he soothes, his hand caressing your thigh. “You’re doing so well, love.”
You try to focus, try to ground yourself in his touch, but the sensations are too much, too intense. Every nerve in your body is alight, every inch of your skin hypersensitive to his touch, to the vibrations that are driving you closer and closer to the edge.
Jenson shifts, his lips brushing against your forehead, your cheeks, your lips, grounding you in the moment, reminding you of his presence. “You’re mine,” he whispers, his voice a low, possessive growl that sends shivers down your spine. “Say it.”
“I’m yours,” you gasp, the words tumbling out of you in a rush, as much a plea as a declaration.
His eyes flare with satisfaction, and he lowers his head, capturing your lips in a searing kiss that steals your breath away. You kiss him back with everything you have, pouring all your love, your desire, your trust into that kiss.
When he finally pulls back, you’re both breathless, your heart pounding in your chest. “That’s my girl,” he murmurs, his voice soft but filled with pride. “You’re doing so well. Just a little longer.”
He adjusts the setting again, and this time, the intensity makes you cry out, your body trembling with the effort to hold on, to ride the waves of pleasure crashing over you. But Jenson is there, his presence a steady anchor in the storm, guiding you, supporting you.
“Jenson,” you whimper, your voice trembling with need. “Please …”
But he only smiles, a slow, knowing smile that tells you he’s not done with you yet. “You can take it,” he says, his voice low and commanding. “I know you can.”
And you do, because he’s right — he knows you better than anyone, knows exactly how far he can push you, how much you can take. And right now, he’s pushing you to your limits, testing your resolve, your trust, your love for him.
The toy buzzes relentlessly against you, sending shockwaves of pleasure through your entire body. You can barely think, barely breathe, your world reduced to the sensations overwhelming you, to the man who’s controlling them.
“Jenson,” you cry out, your voice breaking with the intensity of it all. But he’s there, his touch grounding you, his voice guiding you, his presence a steady, reassuring force in the midst of the storm.
“You’re mine,” he whispers again, his voice rough with emotion, with need. “All mine.”
“Yes,” you gasp, your voice barely a whisper. “Yours.”
And then, just when you think you can’t take any more, he finally relents, his thumb sliding over the screen, lowering the intensity until the vibrations stop altogether, leaving you trembling and breathless in his arms.
Jenson pulls you close, his hand gently sliding down to fix your underwear, carefully smoothing it back into place. He takes a moment to pat over it, a satisfied smile tugging at the corners of his lips as he feels the warmth radiating from you.
“This is just the beginning,” he murmurs, his voice low and filled with promise. He leans in to kiss your forehead, his touch lingering as if he’s imprinting this moment into both of your memories. “There’s a whole day ahead, love. And I’m not done with you yet.”
You shiver under his touch, your body still humming with the aftershocks of pleasure, and the anticipation of what’s to come makes your heart race all over again. As he stands, offering you a hand to help you up, you know this day is going to be one you’ll never forget.
***
Jenson leans casually against the pit wall, his eyes fixed on the big screen broadcasting the live feed from the paddock. You’re on camera, poised and professional as always, a radiant smile on your face as you prepare for the post-FP2 interviews. The soft buzz of the paddock fades into the background as he watches you, the world narrowing down to just you and the screen.
He knows your routine by heart — the way you stand, the confident tilt of your head, the way you hold the microphone with ease. But today, there’s something different, a lingering anticipation that’s been building ever since this morning in the hotel room.
You catch sight of Charles Leclerc approaching, and your smile widens, eyes brightening with recognition. “Charles! A strong session today. How are you feeling going into qualifying?”
Charles grins back, his boyish charm in full force as he stops in front of you. “Feeling good. The car’s in a good place, and we’ve got a solid shot at pole.”
Jenson watches the interaction closely, the subtle way Charles leans in just a fraction closer than necessary, the playful glint in his eye as he responds to your questions. It’s nothing out of the ordinary — Charles is known for his easy charm — but to Jenson, it’s a reminder of how easily others are drawn to you, how effortlessly you command attention.
You laugh at something Charles says, a soft, genuine sound that Jenson feels in his chest. He sees the way Charles’ eyes flicker over you, lingering for just a second too long. It’s innocent enough on the surface, but Jenson knows better. He knows the effect you have on people, the way you light up a room just by being in it.
“Glad to hear it,” you say, your voice smooth and warm, the consummate professional. “There’s been a lot of talk about strategy — how much of a role do you think tire management will play tomorrow?”
Charles’ gaze doesn’t waver from yours, his smile widening as he leans in slightly, just enough that it feels intimate. “It’s always a factor, but I think we’ve got it under control. Of course, anything can happen on race day.”
Jenson’s jaw tightens imperceptibly, a flicker of something dark and possessive flaring up inside him. His hand slips into his pocket, fingers brushing against his phone. The control, the power, is right there, just a tap away. He can’t resist the temptation — especially not when Charles is looking at you like that.
You’re in the middle of another question when Jenson’s thumb hovers over the app. He watches you closely, the slight flush in your cheeks, the way you shift your weight from one foot to the other, the way Charles’ attention seems to linger a bit too long on the curve of your lips.
Without a second thought, Jenson taps the screen, the motion almost casual. He increases the intensity just enough to remind you of his presence, of the promise he made that morning. The toy buzzes to life against you, sending a jolt of sensation through your body that’s as unexpected as it is intense.
You falter, just for a split second, the question dying on your lips as your body reacts to the sudden stimulation. Your eyes widen slightly, the microphone trembling in your grip as you try to maintain your composure.
Charles doesn’t seem to notice the brief pause, still caught up in his answer, but Jenson sees everything. The way your breathing hitches, the way your posture stiffens as you fight to keep your cool. It’s subtle, but it’s there, and it sends a thrill through him.
“Are you okay?” Charles asks, noticing the brief flicker of something in your expression.
You force a smile, nodding quickly as you scramble to regain control. “Yes, just — just a little tired from all the running around today. But I’m fine, really.”
Jenson smirks to himself, satisfied with the small victory. But he’s not done yet. He adjusts the setting again, this time dialing up the intensity just a notch, enough to keep you on edge but not enough to make it impossible to continue.
You feel the change immediately, the vibrations intensifying against you, and it takes every ounce of willpower not to react visibly. You clench your jaw, forcing yourself to stay focused on Charles, to keep the interview on track.
But it’s hard — so, so hard — when every nerve in your body is alight with sensation, when every word feels like a battle to keep your composure.
“So, Charles,” you continue, your voice slightly strained but still steady, “do you think Ferrari has what it takes to challenge for the win this weekend?”
Charles tilts his head, considering the question, his gaze still fixed on you with that easy, confident charm. “I think we’re in a good place. The team has been working hard, and we’re going to give it everything we’ve got. But we’ll have to see how things play out on track.”
Jenson’s eyes narrow slightly as he watches Charles, the way the younger driver’s attention never wavers from you, the way he seems so comfortable, so at ease. There’s no mistaking the attraction there, the subtle undercurrent of flirtation in every word, every glance.
And Jenson can’t help himself. He taps the screen again, the movement almost automatic, dialing up the intensity just a bit more.
This time, the reaction is immediate. You gasp softly, your eyes widening as the sensation overwhelms you, and you have to bite your lip to keep from crying out. The microphone slips in your hand, your grip faltering as you struggle to keep control.
Charles notices the change, his brows knitting together in concern. “Are you sure you’re okay?” He asks, his voice softer, more intimate now.
You nod quickly, trying to brush it off, but the effort it takes to speak, to form coherent sentences, is almost too much. “I’m — yes, just a bit … distracted. But I’m fine.”
Jenson’s smirk deepens, satisfaction blooming in his chest as he watches you fight to maintain your composure. He knows how hard it is for you right now, knows exactly what you’re feeling, and it drives him wild with a mix of possessiveness and desire.
But he’s not cruel — not really. He gives you a reprieve, lowering the intensity just enough to let you catch your breath, to finish the interview without completely unraveling on live television.
You take a deep, shaky breath, trying to regain some semblance of control as you wrap up the interview. “Thank you, Charles, and good luck tomorrow,” you manage, your voice only slightly breathless.
Charles smiles, still concerned but letting it go as he nods. “Thank you. And take care of yourself, okay?”
You nod, offering a strained smile in return as you turn away, your heart pounding in your chest, your body still thrumming with the aftershocks of sensation. You can barely focus, barely think, as you make your way off camera, the weight of Jenson’s control heavy on your mind.
Jenson watches you go, his heart pounding with a mix of satisfaction and anticipation. He knows what’s coming next, knows that you’ll find him the moment you’re out of sight, knows the confrontation that’s brewing just beneath the surface.
But for now, he’s content to watch, to wait, to let the anticipation build as you navigate the pit lane, trying to keep your cool while knowing that he’s the one pulling the strings.
You make it to a quiet corner of the paddock, out of sight of the cameras, and lean heavily against the wall, your breath coming in short, ragged bursts. You know he’s watching, know he’s aware of every reaction, every tremor in your body.
And then, as if on cue, your phone buzzes in your pocket. You pull it out with trembling fingers, already knowing who it’s from. The message is simple, just one word: Mine.
You swallow hard, a mixture of emotions swirling in your chest — desire, frustration, love, and something darker, more intense. You know you’re his, there’s no question about that, but the way he reminds you, the way he exerts his control over you, leaves you breathless, craving more.
Before you can respond, you hear footsteps approaching, and you look up to see Jenson walking towards you, his expression calm and collected, but with that same spark of intensity in his eyes that you saw this morning.
“Jenson,” you start, your voice shaky but filled with emotion.
He doesn’t say anything at first, just steps closer, his hand reaching out to cup your cheek, his thumb brushing lightly over your lips. “You did well,” he murmurs, his voice low and filled with pride. “But you know this isn’t over yet.”
Your heart skips a beat at his words, the promise of what’s to come making your pulse quicken. You nod, unable to find the words, but he sees the understanding in your eyes, the acceptance of what he’s done, and what he’s going to do.
He leans in, his lips brushing against your ear as he whispers, “You’re mine, and I’m going to make sure you never forget it.”
With that, he pulls back, his eyes locking onto yours with an intensity that sends a shiver down your spine. He doesn’t need to say anything else — you know what’s coming, and the anticipation is enough to make your knees weak.
“Let’s go,” he says finally, his voice firm but gentle as he takes your hand, leading you away from the paddock. The noise of the crowd fades, replaced by the quiet hum of the facility around you. He doesn’t speak, doesn’t need to, and the silence between you is thick with anticipation. You can feel your heart pounding in your chest, each step forward amplifying the tension that’s been building all day.
He stops in front of a bathroom door, glancing around to ensure you’re alone before pushing it open and guiding you inside. The door closes behind you with a soft click, the lock sliding into place with a finality that makes your pulse quicken.
The room is small, sterile, with white tiles and a large mirror above the sink. The only light comes from the overhead fluorescent bulb, casting sharp shadows on the walls. Jenson doesn’t waste any time — he turns you around, hands gripping your hips as he lifts you effortlessly onto the counter.
You gasp as the cool surface meets your skin, the contrast with the heat radiating from your body almost too much to bear. He stands between your legs, his presence overwhelming as he leans in close, his breath hot against your neck.
“Look at you,” he murmurs, his voice a low rumble that sends shivers down your spine. “So eager, so ready for me.”
You can’t help the whimper that escapes your lips, your body trembling with anticipation. His hands trail down your thighs, fingers brushing against the edge of your skirt before pushing it up, exposing the thin fabric of your underwear.
He pulls out his phone, the app already open, and you can see the glint of satisfaction in his eyes as he turns up the intensity again. The toy inside you comes to life with a sudden, powerful vibration that has you gasping, your hands gripping the edge of the counter for support.
“Jenson-” you manage to breathe out, but the words are lost as the sensations overwhelm you. Your legs tremble, your body straining against the relentless stimulation, but he doesn’t relent. Instead, he steps back slightly, his hands on your knees, gently but firmly pushing your legs apart.
He watches you, his gaze dark and intense, as you struggle to keep yourself together. The toy pulses inside you, every nerve ending on fire as you fight to stay on the edge, to hold on just a little longer. But it’s too much — everything is too much — and you can feel yourself starting to unravel, the pleasure building until it’s all-consuming.
“Don’t hold back,” Jenson murmurs, his voice calm but commanding. “I want to see you fall apart for me.”
Your head tilts back, your mouth falling open as a moan escapes you, loud and desperate. You’re so close, teetering on the brink, and when he presses just a bit harder on your legs, holding you open and exposed, you finally lose control.
The orgasm crashes over you, wave after wave of pleasure that leaves you breathless, your entire body trembling as you cry out, unable to stop yourself. You fall off the edge, utterly consumed by the sensations coursing through you, and Jenson watches every second of it, his gaze locked on you, unblinking, taking in every reaction, every shudder, every gasp.
When you finally come down, your body weak and spent, he steps closer again. His hand trails up your thigh, fingers hooking around the edge of your underwear before gently pulling it aside. The toy slips out easily, still buzzing faintly, coated in the evidence of your pleasure.
He doesn’t break eye contact as he brings it to his lips, his tongue flicking out to taste the sweetness that lingers on it. The sight alone is enough to make your heart skip a beat, the intimacy of the act making your breath catch in your throat.
“Delicious,” he whispers, the word sending another shiver down your spine as he licks the toy clean, his eyes never leaving yours. When he’s satisfied, he leans down, pressing a kiss to your inner thigh before sliding the toy back inside you.
The sensation is different now, your body still sensitive, and you gasp softly as he adjusts it, making sure it’s nestled perfectly against you. He steps back, his thumb brushing over your thigh as he looks at you with a mixture of pride and desire.
“There we go,” he murmurs, his voice low and possessive. “You’re ready for the rest of the day now, aren’t you?”
You nod, your breath still coming in short gasps as you try to regain some semblance of composure. But it’s hard, especially when he’s looking at you like that, his eyes filled with the promise of more to come.
He helps you off the counter, your legs still shaky, but his hold is steady, grounding you as you smooth down your skirt and try to collect yourself. He tucks a strand of hair behind your ear, his touch gentle now, almost tender.
“This is just the beginning,” he whispers, his lips brushing against your temple. “You’re mine.”
And as he leads you out of the bathroom, back into the world, you know that no matter what happens, you’ll always be his, and he’ll always be yours.
The old man Jenson with romance themes 3 and 7? Would love something where reader is a driver and Jenson is her mentor. Feel free to do whatever you want though!
<3
"Off Limits" - ☆ JB 22 ☆
Jenson Button x reader ☆3- Forbidden Love & ☆7- Mutual Pining.
The heat shimmered off the asphalt as the sun beat down on the paddock, and your race suit clung to your body like a second skin. Another debrief, another press appearance, another exhausting practice session that pushed you to the edge. But you weren’t just tired. You were distracted.
And the reason stood just a few feet away, arms crossed, head tilted as he watched your run on the telemetry screen.
Jenson.
Mentor. Retired champion. Voice of reason. Supposed to be off-limits.
You’d convinced yourself it was just admiration at first. Who wouldn’t be drawn to someone like him? Charismatic, sharp-eyed, cool under pressure. He had a habit of quietly standing just behind you, guiding your decisions without telling you what to do. His presence was steady. So steady it was driving you insane.
You peeled off your gloves and tossed them on the table.
“I saw you brake late into Turn 10,” Jenson said, barely glancing up from the data. “Brave. A little too brave.”
You tried not to stare at his jawline, how it tensed slightly when he was deep in thought.
“I had to try something,” you said, brushing a strand of hair from your face. “Tires were fading. The car wasn’t turning in.”
He turned to face you, that familiar half-smile playing on his lips.
“You're getting good at pushing limits.”
You shrugged. “Isn’t that the point?”
His eyes met yours, and for a second, the air between you changed. Tightened. You could feel it in your chest, in the way your heart suddenly kicked up a gear.
The room fell silent.
You’d danced around this for months. Shared glances, inside jokes that lingered just a beat too long. Conversations that brushed the edge of intimacy but never crossed it. Because they couldn’t.
You were a driver on the rise. He was the man hired to shape your future.
You were both supposed to know better.
You stepped back, clearing your throat. “Anyway. I should probably go review sector three again.”
Jenson didn’t stop you, but you felt his eyes on you all the way to the door.
Later that night
Later that night, you found yourself on the hotel rooftop, the city lights flickering in the distance. The adrenaline from the day still buzzed under your skin, but it was fading now, replaced by the ache of all the things you couldn’t say.
Footsteps approached behind you.
“I figured I’d find you here,” Jenson said, his voice low.
You didn’t turn right away. “You always do.”
He stopped beside you, close but not touching. The air felt heavier now, full of unspoken things.
“I’m trying not to make this harder for you,” he said finally.
You looked at him then. “You’re not. But you’re making it harder for me to lie to myself.”
He exhaled, ran a hand through his hair. “It’s not just you.”
Your chest tightened. “Then why are we pretending?”
“Because I’m your mentor. Because you deserve a clean path forward. Not one shadowed by rumors and politics.”
You stepped closer, almost daring him. “And what do you deserve?”
His gaze dropped to your lips. “I stopped thinking about that the second I took this job.”
The air cracked. You didn’t know who moved first — maybe it was both of you — but suddenly your mouth was on his, hands tangled in his shirt, months of restraint unraveling in one kiss. It was urgent, messy, hungry. It tasted like relief and risk and everything you’d been denying.
When you finally pulled back, breathless, your forehead rested against his.
“This is dangerous,” he whispered.
You smiled against his skin. “So is racing.”
He laughed softly, his fingers brushing your cheek like he couldn’t help it. “You’re going to ruin me.”
“Only if you let me.”
The moment hung between you like a secret written in smoke.
And then, the twist came.
Jenson's phone buzzed in his pocket. He checked it, and his expression changed instantly. You saw the flicker of guilt, hesitation, something unreadable.
“What is it?” you asked.
He hesitated, then locked the screen and tucked the phone away.
“It’s nothing,” he said too quickly.
You stepped back, eyes narrowing. “Jenson.”
He swallowed, jaw tense. “It’s from your team principal.”
Your pulse spiked. “Why is my team principal texting you at this hour?”
His silence told you everything before he spoke.
“They offered me the team principal role for next season. Effective immediately.”
Your breath caught.
“What?”
“I wasn’t going to accept,” he said quickly. “I swear. Not until— tonight.”
Your mind raced. If he took the role, everything would change. This — whatever this was between you — would go from risky to outright career-ending. His involvement in your career would no longer be informal. It would be official. Unforgivable.
“You were going to tell me?” you asked.
“I didn’t know how. I didn’t even want the job until I realized I couldn’t keep being near you like this without it... meaning something.”
Silence fell like a curtain between you.
The kiss, the rooftop, the months of pining — it all collided with the reality crashing down around you.
If he accepted, it was over. Or it had to be.
But if he didn’t... he might lose everything.
You looked at him, your chest rising with the weight of everything unsaid. “So what now?”
He stepped toward you, hands trembling slightly as he touched your face.
“Now I make a choice,” he said. “And I need to know if you’d fight for this. For us.”
And suddenly, it was your turn to decide if you were willing to risk it all.
Prompt: reader using Jensons name instead of his pet name
Warnings: none tbh
Jenson's fingers tapped against the steering wheel as he navigated the familiar roads home from the McLaren Technology Centre. The hum of the engine was drowned out by the cheerful voice of his girlfriend, Y/n, on the other end of the line. "Heya, love." She said, her tone a touch too sweet for the usual end-of-day call. "Could you do me a favor?" Jenson smiled, glancing at the clock. "Of course, darling. What's up?" He asked, beginning to drive down the long road down the MTC. "Well, I was thinking... can you swing by McDonald's and grab me some chips, maybe a burger and a chocolate shake? I'm craving it." She requested, her voice holding a peculiar edge.
"Yeah okay, darling. Burger, chips and a chocolate shake, got it." He replied, a hint of amusement in his voice. Y/n rarely asked for such specific fast food orders. "Oh, and Jenson-" She continued, emphasizing his full name instead of the usual pet names she used. "Make sure it's fresh, okay?" A small frown creased Jenson's forehead. "Not if you keep calling me that." Jenson replied. "What do you mean? I called you Jenson." Y/n said, kind of confused. "Why the sudden formality? You never call me Jenson unless something's up." Y/n giggled amusingly. "Nothing's up, love, I promise. I just thought it would be nice for a change."
"Well don't, please and thank you. I quite like you calling me my pet name." Jenson's skepticism lingered as he pulled into the McDonald's drive-thru. "Jenson, your parents gave you that name." He rolled the window down. "Yes, my parents. You, darling, are my girlfriend. I like when you call me love and if you don't I'm afraid I'll have to block you." He ordered the requested items, making a mental note to ensure they were as hot as possible by the time he got home. As he drove away with the bag of fast food, he couldn't shake the feeling that there was more to Y/n's request.
As the sun dipped below the horizon, Jenson's heart raced as he hurriedly navigated through the evening traffic, eager to reach home and see what he'd done done annoy his girlfriend this time. The anticipation of seeing her after a long day fueled his desire to press on the accelerator just a bit more. Blue and red lights flashed behind him, causing Jenson to let out an exasperated sigh. Pulling over and groaning, he rolled down his window to meet the stern gaze of a police officer. "Do you have any idea how fast you were going?" The officer asked upon reaching the car. Jenson offered a sheepish smile. "I might have been going a tad over the limit, officer. Apologies, I'm just trying to get home."
The officer raised an eyebrow. "Home, huh? And where might that be?" He asked. "Right down the road." Jenson replied, gesturing vaguely ahead. "I've been away for a while, you see. Just eager to get back." The officer eyed Jenson skeptically. "You expect me to believe that? You're in quite a hurry. Who do you think you are? Lewis Hamilton?" Jenson couldn't help but chuckle at the comparison. "No, but I've beaten him a good few times." He replied, smirking.
The officer's expression remained stoic. "I don't appreciate jokes, sir. License and registration, please." Suppressing a sigh, Jenson reached for his documents and handed them over. The officer scrutinized them before returning to his patrol car to run a check. As Jenson waited, he couldn't help but replay the encounter in his mind. He understood the officer's duty, but the delay was becoming increasingly frustrating.
Finally, the officer returned, ticket in hand. "I'm issuing you a speeding ticket, Mr. Button. Please drive more responsibly in the future." Jenson gave a fake smile and took the ticket. "I appreciate the reminder, officer. I'll keep that in mind." As the officer walked off, Jenson mumbled to himself, the words "complete arsehole" being repeated multiple times.
Once home, he found Y/n sitting on the couch, a mischievous glint in her eyes. "You're back! Thanks, Jenson." He handed her the bag, studying her carefully. "Alright. What's going on? Why the sudden craving and the formal use of my name?" Y/n smirked, unable to keep the secret any longer. "Okay, okay. I just wanted to see how you'd react. I like getting reactions out of you." She smiled, wrapping her arms around his neck and pulling him in for a kiss.
Jenson raised an eyebrow. "Really? You made me drive to McDonald's and speed home because I thought you were pissed off with me. I got a speeding ticket!" Jenson said, lifting the ticket. "And you have a Happy girlfriend who now has McDonald's." Jenson chuckled, shaking his head. "You're something else, Y/n. Next time, just ask for McDonald's without the elaborate plan."
"It's not as effective though, is it?" She teased.
Day 3 of 25 Days of Christmas: Making Gingerbread Houses
Pairing: Jenson x Reader
Rating: PG
Words: 709
Warnings: None, just fluffy family time
"Gingerbread houses?" he asks as you hold the kits happily and nod your head. Yeah, it'd be great and adorable to post. You said you always wanted to do a cheesy Christmas tradition or something," you say, moving through the kitchen as you get everything you need to build the gingerbread houses.
"Baby, I was thinking you were just wearing bows and saying you're my present," he says. You turn, blinking at him, and he ducks his head, knowing what he just said should've stayed in his mouth. "Maybe later," you say, returning to the counter and opening the boxes. Jenson chuckles, moving to help you undo the boxes and look at the instructions.
"Do we need to follow these, or can we do whatever?" he asks, having yet to do this for many years. We can decorate it however we want, babe, but maybe build the house usually," you explain as you grab frosting and start to put it in the bag so you can quickly line it. "Okay, so what candies do we have?" He asks, digging through the bags.
"Gum drops, Twizzlers, Sour Patch Kids, little cookies, oh, Candy Canes, marshmallows, sprinkles, and jelly beans. Damn, that's a lot of candy," He chuckles, and you just smile, seeing him light up. You still remember the first Christmas you spent together. Jenson was still racing and living in England then. He wanted to build gingerbread houses then but couldn't as he was needed in Woking, and after that, you two just forgot; at least, he thought you two forgot.
"Can't believe you remember that; it was almost more than 10 years ago," He grumbles, and you smile; standing on your toes, you kiss his cheek. "Well, I remembered, and now you're finally here, and I thought we could do it while the kids sleep," You explain, and he hums. "Can, can we wake the kids? I want to do this with them," Jenson says, smiling, and you just stare at him, thinking about how you could fall more in love with him.
"Okay, I'll go wake the kids," you whisper. He smiles as he opens all the bags of candies and pours them into separate bowls. Jenson moves and turns on the TV, playing a Christmas movie he watched growing up, A Year Without A Santa Claus. He loved it; the kids have seen it and always sang with the characters.
"Daddy," Jenson turns, seeing his little boy. Will looks up at him. He was wearing his little reindeer pajamas and holding his little Grinch stuffie, which he liked sleeping with during the holidays. "Hey, bubba, " he whispers and leans down happily, picking him up as Will lays his head on his shoulder. "Mummy woke us," he says, and Jenson chuckles and pats his back.
"I know; I want to build gingerbread houses with my babies," he says gently as Emma comes running out, hair wild, holding her bear stuffie, and colliding into his legs, giggling. "Daddy, we get to build gingerbread houses," she whispers, and Jenson nods, gently petting the top of her head. "Are you excited?" he asks his 6-year-old, who nods her head quickly.
"What about you, Will?" He asks gently as the 3 almost 4-year-old whines. "Yeah," He whispers, and Jenson smiles, rubbing his back. "Emma, want to help me build the gingerbread house?" You ask as Emma nods, having always been a mummy's girl, as Will was the one who would give him cuddles at the moment. "Alright, Will looks like it's boys .vs. girls," He says, and Will giggles as Jenson bounces him gently before sitting him on the counter.
The house remains silent except for the Christmas movies, as everyone focuses on the two houses. Jenson hands Will the mini cookies he lays down as the roof and pathway lead to the house. Jenson smiles as he looks over at yours and sees a mess but chuckles, knowing you two were having so much fun. Jenson pulls Will close as the little boy just tosses candy now, making him snort as you turn; nudging your husband, he happily leans down and kisses you gently.
"Merry Christmas," you two whisper as the kids laugh and candy flies across the counters.
