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i can just imagine max yapping endlessly about literally anything (the term maxsplaining doesn't exist without a reason)
he's initially a little confused because why the fuck are you kissing me right now i'm trying to explain what the new regulations mean
once he realizes you don't expect anything in return and are just kissing and biting at his neck for the hell of it and because he's max and why the fuck wouldn't you want to kiss him 24/7, he just keeps yapping (as one does)
but you get really adventurous- hands start roaming up his shirt and along his skin and you bring your body closer to his
that's when his brain starts to short circuit and he loses his train of thought and it's the cutest thing ever
"and even with the cars being a lot lighter and smaller, i'm not sure how tight the racing will- ah- how tight it will- ah, fuck, schatje-"
"what were you saying, max?"
"shut up"
he's beet red (and very, very hard) when you pull away and it has to be the funniest thing ever omg
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you really can't resist it. not when you wake up with your head on his chest, his arm thrown around your shoulders creating a cocoon of safety for you. as gently as you can, you wiggle down the bed and settle between daniel's legs, tugging his boxers down just enough to free his erection. he stirs in his sleep when your hand comes into contact with his cock, and you let a glob of saliva fall from your lips and onto your hand, easing the slide.
daniel's never been a heavy sleeper, and it comes in handy (heh) when you wake up a little extra turned on. take today, for example. when your lips come into contact with the tip of his cock, letting your tongue press against it just so, he fidgets once more, but this time you know he's close to waking up. as always, your hand that isn't stroking at the rest of his length reaches up his torso, and his own hand meets you halfway, lacing his fingers with yours. you remove yourself from his dick just long enough to whisper a soft "good morning, danny," before resuming your efforts, and he mumbles out something that seems like a similar greeting, but it's barely intelligible.
you have the strategy to bring daniel to the edge down to a t. after being in a relationship for years, one would hope so. you have the technique so perfected, in fact, that it's become second nature to you. danny's big. so big, in fact, that it's fairly difficult to take him all in your mouth. instead, you opt for letting your saliva (and his precum) drip out of your mouth and onto your hand which strokes what you can't take into your mouth. you focus your attention on working magic with your tongue, and the grunts and moans that tumble past danny's lips are music to your ears.
before long, though, the moans turn slightly more coherent, murmurs of "oh, baby, i'm close" and "fuck, darling, just like that." his comments only make you double your efforts, and it isn't long before he's cumming down your throat and you gladly swallow every drop. when you climb back up his torso, leaving soft kisses in your wake, and finally, finally, connect your lips to his, danny smiles when he can taste his own cum in your mouth.
this is such fluffy bullshit i love it (with a little bit of angst bc i couldn't help myself.) this one is also a little bit short but EEEEEH i still like it hehe
"lando?" your hands quake with anxiety and your stomach sinks. your bare feet almost freeze on the cold tile of lando's apartment. you can hear his soft snores coming from his bedroom, guiding you to safety like the north star did for sailors. eventually, your hand on the walls helps you find his doorway, and you smile faintly when you realize he left it open. "lando?" you say again, a bit louder this time, but his snores stop.
"hmm?"
"lan, i had a nightmare. don't think i'll be able to sleep again."
"c'mere, princess. i've got you." in the miniscule amount of light filtering through his windows, you're able to see his arms open, his body outstretched on the bed. are you really about to do this? yeah, your feelings for him are nothing if not obvious, and you're terrified of losing the friendship you have with him it it means you take the risk of making a move on him, even if you're almost certain that the feelings are reciprocated. are you really about to risk your friendship with him over a silly nightmare? "you gonna stand there or are you gonna come here and let me help you?"
and, fuck, if his voice alone doesn't make you question your morals, you don't know what will. without hesitation, you step into his bedroom and lay down with him. lando's arms wrap around your shoulders, and his signature scent envelops you and soothes your nerves like a healing balm. you sigh deeply, immediately relaxing into his hold. why haven't you done this sooner? sure, you're just casually sharing a bed with your best friend in the entire world, but, wow, his presence is so much more soothing than any massage or day at the spa that you've ever experienced.
and then you're deeper in sleep than you've ever been, safe in lando's arms.
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the bass of the music rattles your bones, and your head pounds with the heat of the club, but you wouldn't have it any other way.
since you've gotten here, seven people have offered to buy you drinks, all of which you've declined.
not like lewis is counting.
you're flowing freely with the music, and you're positive your legs will be absolutely killing you tomorrow, but frankly, with the way lewis is looking at you from across the club, you couldn't care less. he looks hungry. eventually, you make your way over to him, a sly smile on your face because you know exactly what he's going to try to do. he's going to lean forward, snake an arm around your waist, and pull you close to his side.
when he goes for the move, though, you slip away and shake your head, turning to look at him. "i said no touching, lewis. you know this. be good."
"i hate you," he mutters.
"nah."
hours later, you have to repeat the same sentence. you're straddling lewis' thighs, pressing gentle kisses all along his neck, at each exact point that you know makes him shiver. his hands grip the duvet cover below him, and it makes you grin when you can feel him flinch, wanting so desperately to feel your skin beneath his palms, but resists.
"mm, now that i think about it, i'm pretty tired. maybe i can get you off just like this. what do you think? can you be good and stay still for me?" lewis nods, not daring letting his lips part for fear of incomprehensible pleas never stopping. "use your words, lewis."
"yes, i'll be good. i'll stay still, i promise."
"good boy." you lean down, press a gentle kiss to his lips, and begin grinding your hips against his bulge. moans immediately tumble past his lips and into your own, and you happily swallow every noise he makes. your fingers thread through his braids, each gap between your digits finding two or three braids each and pull. the moan that rips itself from lewis' throat is sinful, and you need more. your tongue tangles with his, and the whines and quiet moans coming from lewis indicate that he's getting close to his own orgasm, and his brain is so fogged over with lust that he hardly processes your next words. "you can move, lewis."
"hm?"
"you can move. but still, no touching keeps your hands down."
lewis is barely able to get out a breathy "fuck, thank you" before his hips roll up, matching your own movements, and the two of you groan in unison at the new stimulation. you both continue like that for a few minutes before you're clawing at lewis' back and cumming with a shout, lewis following you not long after. the two of you take a few minutes to catch your breath and let your muscles relax, simply basking in the silence for a few more minutes, but, before long, it's you who speaks up first.
"you need a shower?"
"only if you remove this stupid 'no touching' rule."
Charles Leclerc + hands itching their way up thighs during drive
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it's always been obvious that you have a thing for charles' hands. they're pretty and well-maintained and just slightly bigger than yours, and you'd be lying if the sight of them doesn't do some things to you.
the two of you have been dancing around whatever awkward friends-with-benefits-but-nobody-can-tell-if-they're-really-still-just-friends-or-if-they're-in-love-and-don't-know-it-yet thing is going on in your relationship, and you're almost positive that today is going to be no different. you were laying in his apartment, watching a movie and contemplating what to have for dinner, when he asked if you wanted to go for a drive.
who would you be to decline?
so here you are, sitting in a car that probably costs more than your entire salary, charles' hand on your thigh as he drives one-handed through the streets of monaco and out to the french countryside. he must know what he's doing to you, because his hand is slowly inching its way up your thigh and is getting too close to the edge of your shorts to be innocent.
"charles."
"hm?" he doesn't take his eyes off of the road, but as you eye his side profile, you swear you can see the distinct shape of a smirk on his lips.
"stop teasing."
"what do you mean?"
"don't play dumb. if you want to fuck me, just say so." your forwardness catches charles off guard- his eyes widen and the smirk falls off of his face. "gotcha."
"alright, fine. if that's what you want, i guess i can fuck you. is that what you need? you need my cock inside of you that badly that you can't even wait half an hour until we get to dinner. you're so needy, cherí." this time, you're the one caught off guard, and moments later, you're straddling his thighs, your faces mere inches apart. "aw, no bratty comments now? of course. you're just so dumb for my cock, darling. it's all you need, isn't it?" his words turn your brain to mush, and the only response you can muster is nodding dumbly.
when you sit down at the restaurant charles has chosen, you can still feel the remaining pain from his grip on your hips, and his cum stains your underwear.
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"i don't know if this dress fits me right," you say, turning around and inspecting your reflection in the full-sized mirror. "does it look weird around my hips? should i wear a different dress tonight?"
"you look so good, baby, but if it were up to me, you wouldn't be wearing it at all. you wouldn't be wearing anything, in fact." ah, yes. there he is. classic max verstappen. blunt and absolutely unafraid of saying what's on his mind.
"how about you get what you want?" you fire back. "how about we... skip this event..." you straddle his hips where he's sitting in the chair of the hotel room, settling your forearms on his shoulders. "and just stay here tonight?"
"as much as i would like to take you up on that offer," max purrs, leaning forward and pressing gentle kisses to your exposed neck and collarbones, "we do need to go tonight." he smiles against your skin when you groan in annoyance before gently nipping at your collarbone. he really is like a cat.
"then how about you take this dress off and fuck me?" you don't get a verbal response, instead yelping in surprise when max stands, his thighs tensing beneath you, and picks you up by your ass before setting you on the bed, shoving the form-fitting dress up so that it bunches at your waist, and pulling your panties down.
"i'll be keeping these tonight." before you can protest, your lace panties are shoved into his pocket, and you huff with frustration.
"c'mon, maxie. need you."
"i can tell." you stare at the ceiling while he unbuckles his belt and pulls his dress pants down his thighs just enough so that it's at least somewhat comfortable. by the time he's fucking into you, your legs are wrapped around his waist and your head is thrown back in extacy.
you definitely aren't making it to that event on time.
for the love of all things good and holy, let me take care of you + Oscar
yes yes everything about this
of course your period had to start today. of all the days it could've started, it's the wednesday before oscar's home race. you'd been staying with chris and nicole, oscar's parents, since jeddah, and you've since learned why oscar behaves the way he does. why he's so kind, always willing to drop everything if you're struggling, why he remembers all of the small details about you.
why he knows exactly when your period will start.
of course, the heaviest days of your period are right in the middle of the weekend.
you groan as you stand, your cramps making moving any part of your body nearly impossible. oscar had left a few hours ago for the paddock, having strategy meetings and pr duties to attend to.
"thank fuck for prescription painkillers," you mumble, popping two pills into your mouth and downing them with a swig from your water bottle. they'll take about half an hour to kick in, but after having ridiculously painful periods for the past thirteen years, you have a routine. music, outfit, makeup, hair, breakfast... anything to distract yourself. by the time you arrive at the paddock, the medications have kicked in and the boiling agony has been reduced to a simmering throb. you can mask your pain, though.
"baby..." the disappointed look oscar gives you breaks your heart, and you already know why he's pissed at you. he'd made you swear to take care of yourself over the weekend, to not leave your bed until sunday. until race day.
"i'm okay, osc. i took my meds and i'm feeling better."
"baby, you were supposed to take care of yourself."
"i am taking care of myself. i have extra meds of multiple kinds-" you emphasize, raising your eyebrows and putting a finger to his lips before he starts complaining. "and i have my pillow. i'll be okay."
you were not, in fact, okay.
your cramps come back in full swing just four hours later, and you're doubled over in oscar's driver's room in the mclaren hospitality trying your hardest not to puke from the pain. when he walks in and sees you, he's on his knees holding you.
"what did i tell you?" he murmurs. "you need to take care of yourself, and if you won't, then i will."
"oscar, i'm telling you, i'll be fine. focus on racing."
"baby, you know i love you to the moon and back, so please, for the love of all things good and holy, let me take care of you."
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who would've thought that you would be seeing george's race win graphic this weekend?
sure as hell not you, that's for damn sure.
yet here you are, happy tears running down your face as you cheer from parc fermé as george climbs out of his car and pumps his fist in joy and, of course, recreating his iconic intro pose from last year. before he's swept away to the cooldown room, you find him in the hallways and hug him tight, pressing a firm kiss to his lips and hope that he can feel how much joy and pride you're feeling for him.
"i love you, george."
"i love you, too," he says, murmured into your forehead before he presses one last kiss there before heading into the cooldown room where carlos and oscar await him.
after the podium, though, you beat him back to his driver's room and are able to greet him after his media duties. george can barely close the door before you're pressing him against it, kissing him like you haven't seen him in years. when you finally separate from him, your foreheads remaining pressed together and your arms wrapped tightly around his waist, you smile up at him. "i'm so proud of you, baby. can i, uh... can i suck you off?"
"you're going to kill me one of these days."
"is that a yes?"
"of course it's a yes, love." you chuckle and kiss him again, your hands making their way up to unzip his race suit and shuck it off of his arms. you're drunk on george's kisses, and when he moves you over to the couch and sits down, shoving his race suit off of his legs and kicking his boots to the side, you settle on your knees between his legs. as eager as you are to get him in your mouth, to make him feel good, you know that it's fun to tease him. so, instead of rushing through pulling his fireproofs down and sucking him off as quickly as you can, you instead work tantalizingly slowly, working your hands along his strong thighs and over the tent forming in his dark fireproofs.
"eager, aren't we?"
"that's my line."
"not today, it's not. c'mon, up." you tap your fingers against his hip, and he obediently lifts his hips off of the couch just enough to pull the waistband of his fireproofs and boxers down to his thighs, and...
fuck.
you barely have the patience to pull his fireproofs and boxers down to his ankles before you're leaning forward and taking him into your mouth, not even bothering to tease anymore. your hand makes up for what you can't take into your throat, but it doesn't matter to george because you just feel so good around him, and he makes that very well known. despite the thin walls of the mercedes motorhome providing very little soundproofing (a lesson you'd learned when you walked out of his room and saw a very flustered lewis,) george is moaning openly, and you'd be lying if it doesn't turn you on.
"that's so good, baby. fuck, just like that," he moans, and you double your efforts, letting saliva drip from the corners of your mouth onto his cock and humming happily when his fingers make their way into your hair, guiding you just the way he likes it. "oh, fuck, i'm close. where- where do you want me to cum?" another hum from you answers the question, and the vibrations from your throat are just enough to send george over the edge, cumming down your throat with a groan, his head thrown back in bliss. after you're done cleaning him off as gently as you can and swallow down the remaining cum, you climb back up and tilt george's head back to look at you with a gentle hand on his jaw.
