This Maybe The Daddy Issues Talking But My God Who Gave These Assholes The Right To Look This Fine 😭😭

give you my wild

{sebastian vettel x fem!reader}

in which you think sebastian might make a really good dad. (inspired by this post and this video.)

warnings: yeah it’s smutty (i mean what else do i write) - unprotected sex with him coming inside her, risky public (semi-public) fucking, hold the moan vibes, slightest dom/sub moments, talk about having kids with each other, dirty talk with begging and some references to breeding / getting knocked up.

He’s busy signing autographs that morning, and it’s not an unusual sight for you to see him doing these trite little media appearances, but this time around - it’s a little different.

A chubby-cheeked baby has been placed on his table, and Sebastian is immediately taken with her, handing her a set of cards which she grabs onto readily. She giggles when he makes a silly face, and in her excitement, tosses around the set of photos of himself that he was supposed to sign. Seb laughs, and hands her another photo, only for her to throw that one away as well, but he grins and ruffles her hair with so much pride and happiness, as if she were doing something so incredibly astounding to him. Your heart squeezes in your chest, watching him play with this baby with such natural ease, you feel a strange longing for something you never even knew you wanted until this point. The last straw, simply, is when he completely abandons the signing of his photo cards altogether, and takes her in his arms to swing her around gently, making her shriek with laughter.

He looks so good already, but with a baby in his arms? You could barely breathe thinking about it.

Later, when he’s reminded that he’s running on a tight schedule, he reluctantly gets back in the seat with the baby in one hand, signing marker in the other. She ends up playing with his collar, and Seb nuzzles her a little while trying to make it through the rest of the photo cards as quickly as he can.

You come over to him just as he’s finished with the last few, and he looks up at you, his eyes all shiny and full of delight as he gestures at the baby who now smiles up at you. “Isn’t she so cute?”

You nod, unable to keep at bay your feelings of tenderness for him. “Looks like you were having a good time, Seb. I’ve never seen you so happy to do photo-card signings.”

“Well, I’ve never had such a good companion until now.” He finishes the last one with a flourish, and sets them aside. He offers to let you carry the baby, but you insist he keeps her in his arms, wanting to prolong the view a little longer of him cuddling her, fussing over her.

He’d be such a good father.

You eventually lean in to whisper to him, “I want one.”

“This one’s already taken, I’m afraid.” He grins, handing the beaming toddler back to her mother and waving goodbye. He reaches for your hand and walks with you towards his next media interview.

You squeeze his hand. “I want one of ours, then.”

His eyes flash with an excitement. “Yeah?”

You lean up to murmur into his ear. “Yeah. Want one, or a couple, maybe.” You pause, gauging his reaction, his smile. You let your voice drop a little lower, your whisper a little softer now so you can say, “Want you, actually, to fill me up so good. Over and over until you put a baby inside me, Seb.”

The swift intake of his breath is so, so sexy. He swallows, stopping at a discreet corner and pulls you in. His hand comes to curl around your waist as he tugs you in closer. “Yeah? You gonna let me fuck you bare?”

You nod, staring at his lips with such longing that he makes a rough noise. You’ve never done that before with him. “Want to feel all of you, Seb.”

You press your hips against him and grind slowly, until his mouth parts and his eyes get that unmistakably dazed look when his brain fogs over with lust. He looks around in a half-protective measure, wanting to see if anyone’s looking. You don’t care, leaning in to land a kiss on the slope of his neck that stretches out before you, and Seb makes a sound of surprise, fingers tightening on you. He likes this, you can tell, from how his pulse races under your mouth.

“Not here,” he groans, a hand unable to stop itself from reaching down to squeeze a handful of your ass. “So naughty, darling. People will see…”

You pull back with a look of determination he knows so well. “Then drag me somewhere now and fuck me… please?”

You watch the flush on his cheeks spread prettily, and you feel an answering throb between your legs. He looks so turned on and your mind’s only focused on having him inside you, now.

The paddock’s swarming with people, but somehow he finds an empty little room with a tiny sofa and the flimsiest lock you’d ever seen, but it’s right beside a media station and you have never been so aware of the fact that you’re doing something so dangerous - so impulsive. But all coherent thoughts instantly vanish when Seb is right there in front of you - looking distinctly impatient to have you.

He presses you against the cold metal of the room’s walls and has his fingers in your hair so he can kiss you with an urgency that’s thrilling. You moan when your hips grind against his, frantic, wanting, feeling him already hard for you and what you’re promising.

“So fucking impatient,” he half-complains, as your fingers stroke over the hard on straining at the front of his jeans. He rolls his hips back into your hand and your eyes dart up back to his, watching him melt into your touch. He doesn’t need to ask for permission when you’re this willing and desperate for him, and so, when he can’t stand your torture any more, he turns you over almost a shade roughly, dragging you over the arm rest of the couch, pressing his hand to the small of your back and bending you over so that he can have you prone for him. You whimper, feeling perfectly at ease in this submissive posture, perfect for being filled up and bred.

He hikes up your skirt, hands grabbing the curve of your ass which he can’t resist touching. “No underwear?” He makes a sound of delighted disbelief.

You turn back and wink at him. “We were running late - remember?” And the way his eyes heat up at the memory of this morning, where he’d been so distracted by you, gets you hot all over. “Besides,” you say as he unzips himself and takes out his cock, stroking it through your dripping cunt and slicking himself up with all of your wetness, “being near you, seeing you here in your element, being so good with kids, with everything you do…” Your breath hitches when the tip of his cock slides against your clit, “you always ruin any pair of panties I wear.”

He chuckles and leans down to put a hand over the back of your neck, stroking the slope of it with his thumb. “No. You deliberately did this to drive me crazy, didn’t you?”

“Me? Never.” You keep your tone light, but there’s anything but innocence in the way you push your hips back to feel more of his cock against you.

Seb exhales sharply and he squeezes your neck in warning, his cock resting obscenely along your folds. “You’re going to get us both in trouble like this.”

You hum, spreading your legs and shifting your hips so that there’s no mistaking what you want. “You like getting in trouble with me, don’t you? Love it when I push you to your limit.”

There’s a ghost of a smile on his face, but he doesn’t admit this. He leans over you, pushing just the tip of his dick inside you. “You know just how to make me crazy,” he says, kissing your shoulder, and you shiver against him. “Fuck. You feel so good like this.”

He’s right - it feels criminally good to have him bare like this for the first time - everything feels heightened, more sensitive, and you reach back to grab him, to let him know how good that is. He wraps his other arm around your midsection, a slow, deliberate pause before he says coyly, “you better hold on to something, sweetheart.”

Fuck. The sharp jolt of heat skitters down your spine as you wrap your fingers around the arm he’s put around you, squeezing to let him know he’s the one you’re going to want to hold on to, when it gets too much - too intense.

“Please fuck me,” you beg, shifting back impatiently until he grunts. “Seb… please fill me all the way up.”

He nips at your shoulder, “well… because you asked so nicely…”

He thrusts inside you in one smooth stroke, and you both gasp at the new sensation - so much, so good. You clench around him involuntarily, digging your fingers into his arm as he shivers slightly against you. “Oh my god, Seb.”

He grimaces in pained pleasure. “Don’t fucking move. I need a minute.”

The fact that you’ve got him barely able to control himself, that you’re going to be his undoing, sends a surge of heat so fierce, right between your legs. “Thirty seconds. Need to feel you move, please.”

He chuckles, in that agonised sort of way that betrays how much he wants to feel that, too. “This will be over in thirty seconds if you rush me.”

You make a frustrated little sound. “Don’t care… want you, please.”

A switch seems to flip inside him, and the hand at the back of your neck slides into the base of your scalp, threading fingers through your hair until he can drag you back, tugging at the strands until you gasp. “Such a fucking brat,” he murmurs in a low register you don’t hear often - but it’s fucking hot. “Always so whiny.”

Awareness prickles along your skin as he pulls almost all the way out of you, before thrusting back inside fast, hard, making you cry out. “Is that how you want it, hm?” His gruff voice holds a thin measure of patience. “Is this what you want me to do to you?”

“Yes,” you hiss out, feeling wholly consumed by him, by his domineering side taking over. “Seb, please - exactly like that.”

“Good.” He groans. “That’s how I’m going to fuck you. And that’s how I’m going to come inside you.”

He begins to fuck you with a punishing sort of rhythm - deep, hard, but it aches so good, having him so fierce and urgent and almost savage. You grip his arm so tight you’re sure he’s going to bruise, as the obscene sounds of your fucking fill the room. This, you think, will be your undoing. You cry out as he hits this sweet spot inside you that makes you seize up - buck against him, and he has to hush you. “People are going to hear,” he chides, but the tremble in his voice tells you he likes it like that - the danger, the risk. “Be quiet, love.”

But you can’t be quiet - not when he’s thrusting into you with a rhythm that seems designed to make you come way, way too quickly. “Seb,” you shudder, “fuck, you feel too good. I can’t… can’t be quiet.”

He smirks, his smug mouth kissing behind your ear. “I know, sweetheart. But you have to try to be a good girl for me.”

You nod shakily, biting down on your bottom lip. “Always.”

He releases your hair from his firm grip, slipping his fingers into his mouth to wet them as he reaches down to stroke teasing circles around your clit, and this time, you gasp out and squeeze your cunt around him, because it’s indecently good. You can hear people in the next room getting ready, murmuring small talk, and your stomach tightens with awareness.

“Imagine if they heard you getting fucked,” he murmurs, the words an incendiary force to get you even hotter than you thought possible. “Imagine them all knowing you were walking around, no panties, with my cum inside you. Dripping out of you.”

You buck into him, making this keening sound. “Fuck. I need it, Seb. I’m almost…”

Seb’s panting now, feeling you spiral against him, closer and closer to the edge, feeling your wetness coat his fingers. “You gonna come, huh?”

You can only make sounds now, having been reduced to barely incoherent moans, so you whimper, your whole body tensing up - an answer that’s so unmistakeable to him.

“Be quiet when you do,” he warns, and you shake your head, mouth parting already as the sensations he builds inside you grow too much - too overwhelming. He releases your torso just in time to press a hand over your mouth, muffling the scream that you make as you come so hard, against him, you almost push his cock out. It’s him that groans instead, swearing in a mix of German and English, thrusting erratically now that he can feel your cunt tightening, enveloping him like vise.

“Please,” you plead with him, the words coming out almost slurred from how dazed you feel, in the throes of your orgasm. “Seb, knock me up, please.”

And doesn’t that just do it for him.

His breath punches out as he comes, and he swears your name into the sweaty base of your neck, trembling. You can feel each throb, each spurt inside you - and it’s ridiculous how base and animalistic it feels to be satisfied like this - to feel so intimately connected by the way he comes inside you.

He doesn’t pull away immediately, but catches his breath by laving kisses along your sensitive neck, as you moan brokenly against him. His fingers are gentle now, coming up to tip your chin towards him so that he can kiss your mouth with a tenderness that steals your breath, every time.

You could spend all day kissing him, languishing in the afterglow, but you’re mindful that you’ve already stolen him away for way too long, and that soon they’re going to be looking for him.

Even though he protests, you have to be the responsible one, pushing him back from more kisses and dressing him up again, helping him look presentable for the media. His hair’s a lost cause, and the bruises on his arm will definitely look suspicious, but you do the best you can, and send him out with a final, lingering kiss.

Later, as you sit at the back of the interview room, behind rows of journalists and reporters, they ask him, once, about whether he’s ready to be a father, especially given that he was pictured so adorably with a baby earlier on.

A wide grin appears on his face, and he glances not so subtly at you, making you flush from the memory of your escapade with him earlier. “Well, I think… it really doesn’t take too long to make one, does it?”

The room erupts in scattered laughs. That’s your Seb, of course. Always ready with a silly quip.

The journalist probes, referencing his longstanding metaphor of racing for having a family. “So do you think you’re finally ready to come out of free practice?”

The twinkle in his eyes is so endearing to you, but even more touching are the words that come from him, directed straight at you. “Yeah. Definitely ready for that.”

—

I was wondering why I was so crazy these few days and I checked my period app - yep, turns out there’s a reason why my brain has been a non-stop filth factory. It is what it is. Anyone else get like this? I hate it. Don’t ever want kids, but the way this fic poured out of me so readily and quickly is a little concerning.

Please enjoy this unfiltered, very insane fic that i rushed to edit - and yes don’t worry, I haven’t forgotten the charlos blindfold fic that was promised!

Hope you liked it! Would love to know what you thought <3

love, ivy

my masterlist

Max Verstappen x fem!reader (implied Horner!reader)

The world didn't revolve around him, he'd been told, he knew. He accepted it, because he also knew that all that didn't matter. Not when he was able to watch you.

You and your risqué dance moves, the way your tits bounced so perfectly in your tight dress, your hand creeping down your stomach, your eyeliner that is smuched just the right amount.

Max knows, he shouldn't be looking at you like this, his boss' daugther, that is just ever so slightly too young for him. He's tried to stop, he really has. But he has agree with that one person on twitter; you certainly ooze sex.

He doesn’t realise that you’ve moved away from the dance floor and that you’re now leaning both your hands on the table before his manspreading self. Leaving him a, dare he say, amazing view down your dress, you smirk.

“Hey Maxie,” you slur, removing yourself from your position, rounding the table and sitting down in his lap, your arms sneaking around his neck, his head practically shoved to your tits. Not that he minds.

Max’s hand immediately finds its way to your thigh, your short dress has ridden even higher up, he attempts to pull it down.

“Hey schat” Max is way to drunk for this, he can’t control himself, not when you, the subject of his wet dreams is sitting on his lap.

You slowly lean closer to his ear whispering:

“Can you help me, maxie?”

He gulps, a drop of sweat slowly disappearing between your breasts.

“What?” He mumbles back.

“I’m really needy right now,” you practically moan in his ear, “just need you to take away the ache down there…”you glance down at your lap.

“Fuck baby,” he breathes out, clearly stressed, you’re now looking at him with this sweet smile.

“Wanna go?”

He nods.

Age Is A Number

Pairing: Fernando Alonso x Vettel!Reader

Rating: R

Warnings: Age gap (21 year difference), smut, oral (m receiving), face fucking, protective!Fernando, dominant!Fernando I’m sure there is more

Words: 2.9K

Requested: Yes/No

Request: @poisonlily444 Hi!! I was wondering if you could write a fic with Fernando cuz lately I’ve been obsessing over him sm And maybe she’s like toto’s daughter or lance’s sister or smth like that (you pick who she’s related to idrc) and they have been in a secret relationship cuz she’s like 20 but actually he’s very protective with her and stuff Maybe they attend a gala or smth and she goes as his date in a green dress and when asked Abt it Nando is like “yeah she’s really beautiful and hot and she’s also my gf of a year” and everyone loves them after P.S. maybe a bonus scene at the end where they get home in Monaco and it s just pure filth 🤭 i loved how you wrote the sergio one so please please please make nando really possessive and overprotective

A/N: you can see where I lost my focus on this, I hope you’ll all enjoy it and hopefully I can get used to writing without my meds, it here ya gooo ☺️🤭

"I'm sorry, what?"

You want to curl in on yourself as your brother stares at you. He wasn't expecting you to drop this bombshell on him. He didn't think that when you called and told him you were coming home, you'd say to him you had a boyfriend.

Or the fact that your boyfriend is 20 years your senior, older than him. Oh, and that your boyfriend is Fernando Alonso. You rub your eyes and prepare yourself for this conversation. Wanted the earth to swallow you, but this was something you both needed to talk about.

"I'm dating Fernando." You whisper, hanging your head. You've been hiding this relationship for about a year, almost 2 years soon. "As in Fernando Alonso?" Sebastian asks, still not fully understanding. "Yes, as in Fernando Alonso." You groan and spin on your stool, standing as you rub your face.

"No, you're not. Nope. Nuh huh." Sebastian laughs, pulling his hair as he tries to remain calm. "Seb-" "He's TWENTY-ONE YEARS YOUR SENIOR! Fuck, Y/n. He's 6 years older than me! What the hell are you thinking?" Sebastian yells, causing you to flinch as he never raises his voice at you.

"Sebastian......he's good to me." You whisper, not sure how to explain this to him. Fernando was fantastic to you. He didn't play with your feelings, confuse you, or anything like that. When you argue, he makes you both talk and understand one another.

"Y/n, he's known you since you were a kid!" He snaps, and you step back, not wanting to start fighting. "Seb, he only met me a handful of times when I was a kid. It's not like you and Mick." Which only has Sebastian laugh humorously, shaking his head at this whole situation.

"Go home, Y/n." "Sebastian." You sigh, reaching out for your brother, who only steps back. "Let me, let me think this over; go home before we both fight." You blink, trying to keep control of your tears, and gather your things, heading to your apartment.

You're not over-emotional, but you did when it came to your brother. He was someone you looked up to. Sebastian was your world; he made you who you are today. He was more of a parent to you than a brother, so having that conversation with him and how it went. Hurt. Stepping into your apartment, you throw your purse and kick off your shoes before standing in the middle of your living room and crying.

Crying to being hurt. Crying because Sebastian didn't support you. Crying because you didn't know what to feel. You were hurt, angry, sad, and confused. You cover your face, crying as you hear the familiar beeping of the code put in, and then the tinge of spice and mint wraps around you, signaling that Fernando is here. "Princess?" Fernando calls out for you, smiling like a goofball.

He smiles at the bouquet of flowers in his hand, a small gift to make you smile. Not hearing a reply, he steps father into the apartment but stops to take in the mess you left as you came in. "Princess?" He waits for a beat, hears the soft muffled sniffles, sits the flowers down, and moves quickly to your side.

"Y/n? What's wrong? Are you hurt? Where? Princess, look at me." He pulls your hands off your face and sighs, seeing your blotchy face. He steps back and looks you over, ensuring you aren't physically hurt. Seeing that you're okay, he reduces it to emotional or mental. "What's wrong? I can't fix it if you don't tell me what's wrong." His voice is soft. Hearing how soft and the anguish on his face makes you choke on a sob and fall into his arms.

"Okay. It's okay." He pulls you closer, his grip tight. It almost hurts. "He..he.." You gasp out, trying to get the words out, but they're just gasped. "Princess, take a deep breath." You shake your head no, unable to do it. "Yes, you can." Grabbing a hand, he puts it on his chest and takes a deep breath. "With me." He whispers as he does it again. You copy the movement and start to calm down.

If there was Fernando hated most, it was when he couldn't help you. Seeing you in this state was the worst. He couldn't just tell it to fuck off like he'd do to people. Fernando wanted to protect you from everything, but sometimes the things inside you are the one thing he can't protect you from, only watch and help calm you down.

Seeing you calm, he takes a deep breath and tries again. "Okay, what happened?" He asks and sees tears form again, but you take a deep breath and blink them away. "I told Sebastian." Hearing that, the first emotion is anger. The only reason you'd cry like this is because Sebastian is mad.

"He's mad about our age gap." Fernando sighs, rubs his face, and leads you to the kitchen to give you some water. "Of course, he's mad." You scuff and roll your eyes. "That's all you have to say?" Gulping down the water, he hands you. You can see him thinking because if he was in Sebastian's place, he'd react the same way.

At the same time, he knows that what he is doing with you isn't for fun or just to feel young again. He loves you. He wants to get married and have children together. He couldn't say that Sebastian, the fucker would punch without a second thought.

"No, princess. But I understand your brother's worries. He raised you. You're more his daughter than a sister." Fernando pushes off the counter, walks around, and grabs your face, tracing your jawline. "He's protective. Like me." You giggle, knowing just how protective Fernando can get with you. "All he sees right now is me fucking his sister. He doesn't see how much I love her, worship her, or constantly ruin other men for her." He whispers the last part, making you laugh and blush.

He was right. You'd dated a little, but they couldn't give you the type of relationship you craved. They were mainly boys than men, and damn was Fernando, all man. He knew what you needed even when you didn't ask; he was always there, showing how much he loved you.

"You didn't ruin other men for me." You retort, which has your boyfriend leaning back with a smirk. "Really? Maybe I should try harder." He teases, which has you nodding as he leans in to kiss you. He halts when he hears knocking at the door and groans, cussing softly in Spanish.

A smile pulls at your lips as your grumpy boyfriend walks down the hall to the door. Opening the door, he grumbles but stops seeing Sebastian. "Oh, hey." Sebastian just stares at Fernando and sighs, shaking his head. "Don't tell her I was here." Walking away, Fernando curses and yells he's going to get the mail, following after Sebastian. "Hey! Sebastian!" Fernando yells, jogging down the stairs. Grabbing his shoulder, he forces him to face him. "I don't like this." Fernando chokes on a laugh and shakes his head, letting go of his old friend.

"I'm serious about her. She's not some distraction. I want to marry her. I understand the age gap-" Sebastian scuffs at hearing all this and hangs his head. "She's 20. You've lived a life. She's barely lived hers." His voice lowers as people walk past them, paying them no mind. "Don't. She's not a fucking child Sebastian. Y/n is a woman I love and building a life with. So don't you dare diminish her because of age, 'cause she's far more mature than you right now?" Fernando stares down at your brother, refusing to let anyone, including your family, talk down on you.

"Give me time," Sebastian whispers, hating his feeling. "Talk all the fucking time you need. Don't ever, ever talk to her like that again." Turning on the ball of his foot, he stalks back upstairs and into your place.

"Any mail?" "What?" Fernando asks, hearing your question, confused by you asking him that. "Nando, you went to get the mail. Was there any?" He shakes his head and removes his leather jacket showing off that tight white t-shirt underneath. "Hey, do you want to go to this gala with me? It's in Monaco." You turn around, holding the flowers he got you in a vase, and he smiles, seeing the light back in your eyes.

"How come you want me to go?" You weren't going to say yes. It's just that Fernando hated how the media eyes you like candy. Of course, they didn't know the two of you are dating. He despised how they constantly tried to pair you with the other drivers. Wanted nothing more than to show you off as his.

Walking over, he grabs the vase and sits it down before grabbing your chin, keeping eye contact. "When I say this, I fucking mean it. You are mine. You aren't the rumored girlfriend of Charles, Mick, or any fucking else. You're mine. Mine to fuck, love, mark, and show off. If you think for one goddamn second, I'll continue another year of little boys panting after you. You're wrong. Yeah?" You swallow and nod slightly, rubbing your knees, hating how you react to his words. He always got you wet when he showed off possessiveness.

"Okay." You whisper, and soon Fernando smashes your lips together. It then softens as he pulls away. "Good. You have work that day, so we will meet there." You smile, already knowing which dress you are going to wear. He'll lose his goddamn mind.

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Oh, he would bend you over and fuck you hard and good when you both get home. He had no idea you even owned a dress like the one you were wearing. He had expected an elegant dress that covered your skin. Something you'd be comfortable in. Not this.

Stepping out of the car, you thank your driver, who you smile at. Even that simple smile has Fernando wanting to rip the guy's eyes out for even looking at you. For being the center of that smile, not him.

You fix your dress, eyes searching for Fernando before you find him staring at you. You are wearing this stunning emerald green, self-tie plunging halterneck fishtail dress. The bow was light and rested on the back of your shoulders while the strings fell to your mid-thigh giving your back some cover, but if you moved the tie, it'd reveal your whole back. The front has a plunging front that shows off your chest.

Fernando had only seen the back but lost it when you turned to show off the front. He's next to you in quick strides, snatching your hand out of the driver and pulling you close. "The moment we get home, that dress will be off, and you choking on my cock, yes?" Fernando whispers in your ear, having you nod dumbly as he kisses you sweetly and guides you to the entrance.

The moment you two stepped foot in the entrance, you were blinded by cameras and the deafening sound of the shutter of cameras. Fernando places a comforting arm around your waist and directs you through the sea of people. You stop seeing your brother and Hanna as they stare at you both. Hanna smiles brightly, while Sebastian seems skeptical of the two of you.

"Shit, I forgot he'd be here," Fernando whispers in your ear before pressing a kiss to the side of your head. Doing that has the cameras going wild and people screaming. "Y/n! Come take a photo with us!" Hanna yells, and with a slight nudge, you move into your brother's arms. "I'm going to do some interviews; take care of her." Fernando nods at you making Sebastian smile tightly. "I know how to take care of my sister." You sigh and smile, dragging your brother away.

"Fernando! Over here! Fernando!" A reporter yells, and their enthusiasm gets his attention and goes to them first. "Easy there." Fernando grabs the young reporter, who smiles brightly and about falls over when he approaches him. "Thanks! When did you start dating Y/n Vettel? Is there a problem with the age difference?" He rattles off and then blushes, unsure if he overstepped, but the driver laughs.

"She is my girlfriend of almost 2 years, and as of now, the age difference isn't a problem for her family." He jokes, making the others around them laugh. "She is a wonderful person!" The reporter gushes, and the stupid smile on Fernando's face gives him away. "Y/n is the love of my life. She's gorgeous, intelligent, just an energy in my life that I can't live without anymore. She's, just yeah." A blush covers Fernando's face before he laughs and waves goodbye going to find you.

Walking around, he finds you at your designed table, seeing that Hanna and Sebastian are also there, but Sebastian seems to be messing with your heel. "Something wrong, princess?" Fernando asks, making you look up with a smile and blush, having heard everything he said about you. "The strap to my heel broke. Seb is trying to fix it but failing." Sebastian grumbles and steps away. "Fine, you try fixing the damn thing." Sebastian goes back to his seat, and Fernando sits down. He gently lifts your ankle and places it on his lap.

His fingers trail patterns on your ankle, making you squirm but look away, trying to talk to Hanna, who giggles. She loves seeing you in this situation as she loves Fernando and knows he'd care for you. Sebastian just looks ready to die but refuses to admit the way Fernando treats you will reign supreme.

"Here you go, baby." Fernando fixes the strap as you thank him and lean forward, grabbing his jaw and pulling him close as you kiss him slowly. You do pull away to not freak your brother out. Pulling your heel away, you put slight pressure on Fernando's dick, making him jump slightly and eyes narrow at you.

"Careful." He mouths, but you just give a soft smile and carry on for the rest of the night. Until you leave, you tease each other, slightly flirting with other men, and Fernando gives you touches under the table to unsuspecting company.

"We're heading home. See you later?" Fernando asks Sebastian gathering your things and pulling you close, slightly tipsy from the alcohol. "Get her home safe," Sebastian orders kissing your side of the head, watching a lazy smile appear on your face. "I know how to protect her. Later Hanna." With a nod of his head, Sebastian watches you both leave.

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"Fuck!" You moan loudly. Fernando moves fast, slamming you into the wall. "Let me see you, Kitten, fuck, you're probably dripping for me." Fernando rasps, making you whimper and spread your legs. "Wore nothing underneath for you." You whine, hands tangling in those gorgeous locks of his.

"Kitten." He growls, hating that you are so exposed where anyone could see you, but he also dies a little when he was teasing you and could have easily slipped his fingers into you. "M sorry, Daddy. Fuck. You were so close to finding out my secret." Fernando smiles, stands back up, and lifts you up, carrying you to the bedroom.

"Y/n, kitten. You know the rules, baby. What are they?" He asks, undoing his belt, having your mouth water, having always enjoyed this punishment. "Only Daddy comes, not me." You whisper, which has Fernando nod his head to the floor and have you sliding off the bed and onto your knees. The sound of his pants being undone has your heart rate pick up before you take over helping him out of his pants. "Damn." Fernando groans, feeling your hand wrap around his base. With slow strokes, you assess him trying to figure out the best way to take it first, and you lean up and poke your tongue out. Fernando moans feeling your tongue tease him before your lips wrap around the head of his cock. Fingers curl into your hair and pull you forward, making you choke. You take a deep breath and calm yourself. You freeze when you feel Fernando touch your throat, looking down at you.

"Relax your throat." His fingers ghost your neck, and he feels the muscles relax before he positions himself and both hands anchor your head. "I'm going to fuck your throat, okay?" He asks, and you nod, tongue moving slightly before it settles on, tracing a vein on his underside.

"Good girl." He pulled out slowly before moving his hips, testing to make sure he wasn't hurting you in any way. When he feels how relaxed your throat is, he starts to pick up his pace, groaning at how you feel.

You swirl your tongue but also moan, sending small vibrations through him, moving his hips faster as the slight twitch in his balls lets him know he's close. "M gonna come, Kitten. Swallow if you want." He groans, which has you relaxing your throat more as he moans and stills in your throat. You have no problem swallowing as Fernando pulls away, seeing the slight string of spit, and smirks, leaning down and kissing you deeply.

"Now, your turn." You squeal loudly as Fernando lays you down on the bed.

Max definitely also has a mix of a praise and degrading kink. Like he'll be in the floor in front of you, having to use almost all his fingers to stretch you out and get you ready to take him, all while saying the filthiest but sweetest s hit ever like "what a pretty little slut, letting me stretch you out to take my cock, huh? you just want me inside you already, is that what it is? aw, my little whore lost all her words, do you need me to fuck it back into you? "

Also, imagine him fucking you so good that you either start speaking dutch for him or your first language. like, I grew up speaking Italian and English but when I get really flustered it all comes out in Italia so imagine him saying like "oh my pretty girl can't even speak straight and I haven't even put my dick in you yet "

(I think I have a praise kink 😐)

sadly i can’t speak anything but english sadly, i took three years of spanish but moved a few times and none of my courses lined up so it was a mess. i’m still trying to learn and have made some progress but its so hard tbh so many tenses.

no because praise and degradation are the perfect mix. he’d be staring at you so fondly sometimes, like he’s truly in love with you, while he’s burying his cock in you and calling you a whore and then spitting on you. then smiling and telling you you’re sooo pretty. his pretty slut. you can’t even respond you’re so fucked out.

can imagine max teaching you dutch while fucking you, making you repeat phrases back to him before he lets you cum, teaching you how to say something and asking you to say it to him while you’re all fucked out. “c’mon schatz, be good for me. remember what i taught you? can you say it for me?” and when you say it back to him, he’d praise you so much, “that’s my cockwhore, so good for me. just like that, say it with me, again.” and then you’re moaning it over and over because you suddenly don’t know how to say anything else with the way he’s fucking you.

once you’re done, cuddling in bed and being all lovey, he’d grin like the devil and tell you what it means and it’s absolutely filthy.

Fernando fucking you in your childhood bedroom? Fernando wanting you to call him daddy the whole entire time? Fernando whispering in your ear that he wants to breed you? I- besties thoughts have been thunk and literally I cannot think of anything else. Head empty, only daddy fernando wanting to corrupt you. Thank y’all SO MUCH for this🥵

Daddy Fernando wont leave our thoughts either! Hope you enjoy some more thoughtssss:

He would so nice and respectful in front of everyone else, acting like the perfect gentleman to win everyone over, and he would. Your family would absolutely love him.

When no-ones looking, he'd run his hand a little lower down your back, making you look up at him as he stands there with an innocent smile on his face. At dinner, he'd casually put his hand on your thigh, making sure no one could see as he draws it up higher whilst talking with everyone normally. Fully expecting you to keep quiet like a good girl for him as he has his fun.

After you've said goodnight to everyone, he'd take some time to walk around your room, teasing you slightly for the things you have in it as you sit there desperately worked up from earlier. He knows though. He can see how much you want him and he takes his time.

He'd eventually come over to you, pushing you gently down onto the bed and telling you that if you're good and quiet for him he will fuck you properly, just like you need.

He would slip his hand down into your pyjamas, capturing your mouth with his to stifle your moans. He'd tell you how wet you are for him, laughing gently as he kisses you.

"What do you want?" He'd ask. He loves making you ask for it, to beg for him, to say it for him.

"Please, I need you to fuck me, I need you inside me." You breathe out.

"I think you're forgetting something, no?"

You'd realise what he wants straight away and you look up at his cocky little grin.

"Fernando." You'd whine, not quite sure what you're trying to say.

"No. Say it."

"They're right next door." You'd try and protest and he grins down at you.

"Whisper it then baby."

He'd tease you with his fingers, waiting for you to say it before he slips them inside you.

"Daddy please." You'd manage.

"Thats my good girl. Shhh. Be quiet and let daddy take care of you."

He'd take his time with you, doing everything he can to make you cry out for him and getting his kicks in knowing you can’t this time. Knowing you have to be quiet but can’t help the small noises coming out of you.

He'd whisper filth to you constantly, asking you who owns your pussy, who can fuck you like you need, whose cock do you crave. You can do nothing but cling to him and whisper 'You daddy.'

"Yeah, thats right baby. You're daddy's perfect little slut. Taking me so well. Keeping so quiet. Letting me breed your tight little pussy. Keeping all quiet for me so no one hears."

You moan a little too loud at his words as he thrusts deeply into you and he grins. "You're going to have to be quieter than that if you want my come inside you."

God do you want it. So you'd keep quiet, just whispering daddy over and over as he uses you.

After, when he pulls out he'd spread your legs to watch some of his come drip out of you onto your childhood bed, smiling at your cheeks colouring as it does.

He'd run his fingers over you, catching it and fucking it back inside you, pulling up your pyjamas and pressing your back into his chest as he holds you knowing you're dripping with his come inside of you.

~

Also have a little fantasy of Nando fingering you under a blanket whilst your friends are in the room that I'm debating writing up because apparently I would let this insane criminal old man do anything to me ~🐝

I think this might’ve been the perfect Nando ask, but feel free to prove me wrong ~🐻

giving gamer!james head while he is on the headset 🤭🤭

this post is 18+, minors dni.

You can't hear what James's friends are saying over his mic, but you catch staticky murmurs here and there. You think you hear the word 'headshot', which you allow yourself a little chuckle at considering your current situation.

James's cock, stiff and already smeared with a mixture of saliva and precum, is sitting heavy on your tongue, drool pooling by your teeth. You're stretching your jaw to take him in full, nose nestled into the patch of wiry hair at the base. It smells musky, makes you groan, and elicits a hair tug from James.

You're not sure how he's playing the game with only one hand, the other knotted in your hair, but you presume it's poorly. You hear his annoyed groan and then his hand leaves your hair, reluctantly returning to his controller. As consolation, you bob backwards to kitten lick the head of his cock, hoping to make him feel better.

If it doesn't make him feel better, at least it makes him feel good. His dick twitches on your tongue and you reach a red, raw hand up to cup his balls, massaging at them gently. The other hand aches as it holds you up on the hardwood floor, but you don't complain, choosing to give your all into the blowjob in hopes that you don't notice the pain. Instead you notice the deep, musky smell between James's thighs, a glistening mark still present on his skin from where you'd sucked a bruise only moments before. The more you fondle his balls the more worked up he gets, and he conveniently dies the second you trail the tip of your tongue along the underside of his cock, slipping it through his slit and smearing away the bead of precum that had accumulated there.

It does him in. He lets out a gruff, resounding fuck!' into his mic, and he's lucky that his friends all think he's just upset from dying. Cum spurts into your mouth in globs that paint the back of your throat, and you almost choke on it as your cheeks bulge. Some drips down your chin and you catch James's eye when you swallow, tilting your head up to let him wipe away the stain on your face.

"Better luck next time, Potter," Sirius gloats, "Keep practicing, I'm sure you'll get lucky someday."

I got lucky, James thinks, watching as you eagerly lick at the pad of his thumb to rid it of his cum, licking your lips soon after and leaving them shiny, Sirius doesn't know what he's missing.

jenson/reader/seb threesome/pairing would literally be everything is about reader 98% of the time (2% jenson unless we’re talking rbr!seb then nothing is about jenson it’s all reader and him). reader would be precious GOLD to them (i have many nsfw feelings about this too but idk if you wanna hear those)

YOU GUYS FEED ME SO MUCH 😩💖💖💖 LET ME HEAR THEM THOUGHTS,,, THIS IS A SAFE SPACE FOR SLUTTY ONES!!!

they're gentle and considerate, and all sorts of doting when it's outside of that whole.... dance. but they give very heavy overstim and filthy words vibe esp when you're warmed up to that whole concept/dynamic.

it's centered around you; you're the prize. and they're very... very competitive.

you'd be soaked with tears and.... 😩😩😩

Always Walk Me Home

Max Verstappen x Reader

Masterlist

Summary: You and Max are keeping things casual. Sooo casual. You can be casual. Right?

a/n: Heeeeere we go, his number is in my bio for a reason, it’s my other favorite boy! This one is heavily inspired by some of the prompts on this list. anyways enjoy!

Warnings: alcohol/mild intoxication, mild sexual references, google translated Dutch

Things with Max are… brand new. Everything is still fresh. Everything he does gives you butterflies, makes your heart skip a beat. It’s the honeymoon phase, as everyone calls it.

It’s so brand new that nobody knows. Nothing is… official, yet. You’ve just been on a few dates, had a few movie nights. You’ve stayed at his place a couple times, waking up with his arm around your waist and Jimmy and Sassy curled up next to you. It’s casual. You’re keeping things casual. Max seems content to feel things out, to keep seeing you without labeling it. You’re trying so hard to be casual about it that it’s almost embarrassing.

You feel like everyone sees straight through you. On top of spending time alone together, you and Max are friends, so you see each other at group outings and clubs and dinners with your other friends. Max acts the same there as he always has- kind, courteous, and friendly. You won’t lie, sometimes you wish he’d hold your hand or pull your chair out for you or something, anything to show you that you’re not the only one feeling less than casual. But you’re scared of scaring him away, so you keep your mouth shut.

…..

You’re out to dinner with friends, somehow ending up sitting next to him. It’s nice, really nice. You can smell his cologne, can feel the warmth radiating off of him at the packed table. You have to fight the urge to nudge his foot with yours, to press your knee against his. That wouldn’t be very casual of you. You can do this, you can be normal.

He’s saying something to the person next to him, laughing and leaning towards them. You want to be the reason he’s laughing, want to be in on the jokes. You keep your mouth shut and look at the menu instead.

“What are you going to get?” Max asks.

He’s suddenly in your space. He’s leaning close, his shoulder brushing against yours. Be normal. You shrug, sliding your finger down the menu.

“Probably the shrimp scampi,” you say, pointing at the item.

Max nods. “You love seafood.”

You blink, breath caught in your chest. He’s right, but you didn’t know he knew that. Let alone for him to say it as fact. It’s not like he’s whispering either- someone else could hear. It’s silly, because it’s such a small thing, but you’re overanalyzing everything about it.

“I do,” you agree, turning and smiling at him.

“I remember things,” he says, a soft smile on his face, and now your face is growing hot.

Someone draws his attention away, and you look back to the menu. You nearly yelp in shock when something brushes your knee, but- it’s Max, you realize with a start, his hand searching for something. You hold your breath. His fingers find yours, and he interlaces your hands, palm to palm. He keeps them resting on your leg.

You try to take even breaths. He’s holding your hand in public, with your friends right next to you. Sure, it’s under the table, but this is the most you’ve gotten from him in a setting like this. He’s held your hand on dates, done much more in the privacy of his home, but here it feels overwhelming. His thumb brushes over the back of your hand, and you resist the urge to hold on so tightly to him that he can’t let go.

Eventually the food comes, and you both let go so you can eat. But it was nice while it lasted.

…..

Max’s apartment is spacious and cozy, despite the fact that he’s gone from it so often. There’s a warmth here, an aura that just screams Max. His cats roam freely, though while you’re there they have a tendency to follow you around.

“They are traitors,” Max accuses as Jimmy and Sassy weave around your ankles in the kitchen.

“Maybe I’m just better than you,” you say.

“Oh, you are,” he says, sending up a swirl of butterflies in your stomach. “But I feed them. So they are traitors.”

You laugh, leaning down to pet the cats. They nudge their heads against your hands and legs, paw at your socks, and when you walk into the living room, they follow after. Max just watches with disappointment.

By the time he joins you in the living room, drinks in hand, both of them are curled up in your lap. He lets out a huff and sets the drinks on the table. Then he’s nudging at the cats, and you cry out when he pushes them both off your lap.

“Max!” You say, appalled.

He laughs, lays down on the couch, and promptly placed his head exactly where the two cats had been. He stares up at you with a wide grin, eyes squeezed nearly shut.

“Hi,” he says.

“Hi,” you answer.

He reaches for one of your hands. He squeezes your fingers softly before bringing your hand up to his hair. You laugh and take the hint, start running your fingers through the blonde strands. He lets his eyes fall shut. Then you watch as he brings his hand up, purses his lips, and points at them.

You take that hint too, lean over and plant a kiss on his lips. When you try to pull away, he wraps a hand around the back of your neck and keeps you there. He deepens the kiss, fingers slipping into the hair at the nape of your neck to hold you there. It’s not the best angle, but it’s nice, always nice to kiss him.

He finally lets you go and collapses back into your lap, a satisfied smile on his reddened lips.

…..

“I can’t open it!” You squeak. “What the fuck, how do they make it look so easy?”

You’re holding a bottle of champagne in your friend’s apartment, trying to get the cork out. It doesn’t help that you’re scared- one too many horror stories about someone getting a cork to the eye, or breaking a window. You huff and try again, gently. No use.

“Lando slams it on the ground,” your friend suggests, her eyebrows raised.

“Yeah, and he also shattered one of Max’s trophies,” you say. “So maybe not the best example.”

You hear familiar laughter, then, and you drop one hand to your side, still holding the bottle in front of you with the other. Max makes his way through the kitchen, a smile on his lips that paints his whole face. You hold it out to him, pouting.

“No, no,” he says. “I’ll show you.”

He wraps his hand around yours, around the bottle. You can’t lie, your mind goes somewhere else for a second, but you tamp those thoughts down and try to focus.

“See, you put this hand on the cork,” he instructs, “and this hand on the bottom.”

His hands are warm over yours. Your face feels hot. Does he feel the sparks when his skin touches yours, too? Or is this normal for him? Is it just a friend helping another friend? You wish you knew, wish he’d say something to quell your worries and calm your racing heart.

“-and then you twist, like this,” he demonstrates.

The bottle hisses, and you jump, but there’s no dramatic pop, no shooting of the cork. You just pull it out, and you stare at the bottle with wide eyes. Oh. That was-

“Easy, right?” He says. “You are already a pro.”

You laugh, shake your head, and hold out the bottle to your friends, standing there with their empty glasses. You want to study their faces, ask them if they noticed anything. You want to ask if they saw the sparks, too. Someone takes the bottle, and your hands fall to your side, the cork still between your fingers.

Your knuckles brush against something- when you look, it’s Max’s hand. He’s still standing there, watching as everyone passes the bottle around. You swallow tightly, bump your hand into his. Deliberately. You want to look up at his face, want to gauge his reaction, but you resist the urge.

Max reaches his pinky out and hooks it with yours. For just a moment, standing in the kitchen, surrounded by your friends, you’re linked. The sparks run from his finger, up your wrist and arm and straight to your heart. Your chest fizzes like the champagne, bubbly and overflowing.

…..

You weren’t even planning on seeing Max tonight. It’s a girls night, one that’s been suggested over and over, each of you being too busy to make it happen until tonight. You’re at your favorite bar, bass thudding in your chest, your friends all around you.

And then, there’s a tingling feeling in your spine. The hairs on the back of your neck stand up. Someone is watching you. You turn over your shoulder and lock eyes with Max.

He’s leaning against the wall, one ankle crossed over the other. He has a black t-shirt on that’s always been one of your favorites- it hugs his upper arms and his chest so perfectly. He’s watching you, a soft smirk on his lips, a drink in his hand. Everyone is moving around you, but you’re stuck on him.

You smile, wave, and force yourself to turn back to your friends. You like him, you want to spend time with him, but you’ve been neglecting your friendships because of it. Your friends have been teasing you all night about how you’ve been too busy, how you keep checking your phone, how there must be a guy. You’ve denied it at every turn. You can’t leave them now. Ditching your friends for the guy who isn’t even your boyfriend would be the opposite of casual. You force yourself not to look at him, but you swear you can still feel him staring.

Ten minutes later, a bartender appears with a tray of shots and lime wedges. “For you,” she says, pointing at you, and your friends squeal in excitement. She points behind you, then. “From him.”

You turn over your shoulder again. Max is watching, and waving this time. You laugh and wave back, and your friends all do the same. He’s far away, too far to make it in time as you each grab a shot and throw them back in unison. You put the lime between your lips and turn to look at him again, raising your brows. He laughs, eyes lit up so bright you can see the blue even across the room, you swear. Then he juts his chin in the direction of the hallway when nobody else is looking. A message just for you.

You find him out there ten minutes later, trying not to make it obvious and taking the time to come up with an excuse- you fake a phone call. The hall is empty when you walk out, and you wonder if he’s given up on you- you know you saw him walk out. Then he pops his head out from around a corner and waves you over frantically.

He’s leaning against the wall, the same way he was in the club. You stand against the wall on the other side of the hallway and stare at him.

“I’m not leaving right now,” you say. “I promised I’d stay out late.”

“I know,” he says. “Just wanted to see you.”

You tilt your head. “Yeah? Seeing me across the bar wasn’t enough?”

The tequila running in your veins has you feeling braver than usual. It doesn’t seem to scare Max. He just grins wider, brow quirked.

“No, it wasn’t,” he says. “You’re pretty from far away, but even prettier up close.”

Your face feels hot. He pushes off from the wall, leans towards you. He could box you in if he wanted, could pin you right there, but he doesn’t. Instead, he takes your hand in his and pulls you away from the wall, too. The kiss he sweeps you into is sweet. He wraps his arm around you, and you sling yours around the back of his neck. One of his hands cradles the side of your face as he deepens the kiss. Out of all of it, you’re much more focused on the feeling of his thumb on your cheek than the feeling of his lips on yours. It’s strangely intimate, strangely soft, the way he holds you as he kisses you in the hallway of a bar. The way his nose nudges against your cheek, the way he pulls you closer and closer like he can’t get enough.

He pulls away, leaves you gasping for air.

“You taste like lime,” he says.

You nod, dumbfounded.

“You should go back to your friends,” he suggests, kissing your temple. “If I keep kissing you I won’t want to let you go.”

You breathe out a laugh and slap his shoulder. “If you keep staring at me in the club I won’t be able to focus on anything else.”

He laughs. “I know,” he says. “That’s what makes it fun. Besides, you’re fun to watch.”

…..

Three days later, Max is holding your purse. He’d taken it from you when you were all standing in the lobby of the restaurant and your friend dragged you into the bathroom. He’d promised to keep it safe. Now you’re back, your friends are gathering their things and saying goodbyes, getting ready to go home. You’re watching him.

The little black bag looks even smaller in his hands. His fingers are wrapped around the clutch, thumb rubbing back and forth across one of the stitches the same way it had on your skin the night before. He’s talking to someone else, but when there’s a break in the conversation, you nudge him.

“I can take that back,” you say, holding your hand out.

He tilts his head, blinks softly. “That’s okay. I’ll carry it.”

You’re sure you’re staring at him like a deer in the headlights. “Okay, but I’m leaving, so I need my purse.”

He nods. “I thought maybe I could walk you home. If you wanted.”

You nod in response, feeling a bit dumbfounded. The two of you exit the restaurant, waving goodbye to your friends. He takes your hand the second you’re outside, your purse still in his other one. Your fingers knit together like second nature, now. You could predict the pattern of the brush of his thumb against your skin like clockwork.

Your apartment isn’t far, but you find yourself walking slow on purpose, prolonging the moment. You pass people on the street and you know that to them, the two of you look like a real, actual couple. It’s nice to pretend. You lean into his shoulder, and he stumbles and laughs and keeps both of you upright. The two of you talk the whole way there, about everything and nothing and all the stuff in between.

When you reach the apartment building, he finally holds your purse out to you. You open the clutch, digging through it to find your keys and the front door access card. He watches in amusement as your fingers fumble through the bag.

“D’you wanna come up?” You ask. “I have some of that wine you like.”

You pull the card triumphantly from your bag. You look up at him, and he’s smiling softly, something sparkling in his eyes that makes your breath hitch. Makes the champagne bubble in your chest all over again.

“That’s okay,” he says, softly. “I’ve got to get back to the cats. But can I take you to breakfast tomorrow?”

You blink, card still pinched between your fingers. “Yeah, sure.”

He tilts his head at you. “Maybe brunch. You are going to need sleep. How about you text me when you wake up and we’ll go from there?”

You nod. He nods back. Then he reaches up, cups the side of your face in his hand. He’s so gentle about it, more so than he normally is. When he presses his lips to yours, he tastes like gin and he kisses like… like he cares for you. Like this isn’t leading somewhere else, like he’s not going to pull you into his lap and start trailing kisses down your neck. He kisses you just to kiss you, just to say goodnight.

“I’ll see you tomorrow,” he says when he pulls away. “Goodnight, liefje.”

You smile up at him. “Goodnight, Max.”

He smiles back. Then he leans forward and presses his lips to your forehead softly. You swear you’re melting into the sidewalk. You must be a puddle under his feet. You want to press yourself into his chest, tell him to wrap his arms around you, ask him to never let you go.

But you’re trying so hard to be so good at being casual, so you kiss his cheek, turn around, and walk inside. You take the elevator up, leaning against the wall and covering your giddy smile with your hand. When you get into your apartment, kick off your heels, and drop your bag on the counter, your phone buzzes. It’s a call. You look at the screen and see Max’s face.

“Hello?” You answer.

“Did you get in alright?” He asks.

Your heart squeezes fiercely in your chest. He sounds so soft, asking it. You walk over to the window, peel back the curtains, hoping you’re right about what you think you’ll see. There he is, still standing in front of the entrance, phone to his ear. He’s staring up at your window. When he sees you, he waves.

“Yeah,” you say. “You didn’t have to wait, you know.”

But I’m so glad you did.

“Yes I did,” he says, voice soft and scratchy from the night out. “Had to make sure you were safe.”

“Okay,” you breathe. “Let me know when you get home, okay?”

“I will,” he says. You watch as he waves again, smiling up at you. “Goodnight.”

…..

He picks you up for brunch the next day. By the time you’re in his car, it’s nearly 10:30. He drives with his hand on your knee, like always, fingers dancing across your exposed skin below the hem of your sundress. You like watching him drive, like being here with him. He pulls up to the restaurant and runs around to open your door for you, leaving you laughing. He hands the keys to the valet. Then he slips his arm around your waist and leads you inside.

You’ve been on dates with him, but none this fancy, none where you feel a little out of your element. Max seems comfortable, though- it’s moments like these where you’re reminded he’s not just your-friend-Max. He’s three-time-F1-world-champion-Max-Verstappen. Of course he can get a reservation here with such short notice. They’re honored to have him here.

A waiter leads you to a booth in the back. The restaurant is bright and airy, fresh flowers on every table. Max asks for a pitcher of water and orange juice before the waiter leaves. He pulls your chair out for you, pushes it in when you sit down. Your palms are sweating, heart beating rapidly. It’s just- this is the closest you’ve come to feeling like you’re actually dating him. Suddenly, it’s terrifying.

You ask him what’s good on the menu. He points out his favorites- the French toast, the eggs Benedict, the omelettes. He tells you he’s going to order a fruit sampler for the two of you to share, and you smile softly.

“They always have the best strawberries,” he tells you, eyes lit up. “You love strawberries.”

“I do,” you tell him, warmth filling your cheeks. “You do too.”

You’d bonded over that, when you first became friends. A strawberry wine that nobody else wanted to drink. Too sweet. You’d split the bottle with Max and went to bed with a sugar rush, your lips still tasting like strawberry. Ever since, for every special occasion, the two of you have gifted each other that same strawberry wine. It’s a running joke, among your friends- you’ll open the bottle, ask if anyone wants a glass. They’ll ignore you, but Max will come running.

He opens his mouth to say something, but over his shoulder, you spot something that makes your blood run cold.

“Shit,” you mutter.

He looks at you in concern. “What is it?”

“Nothing, just-“ you sigh. “Your coworker is here.”

Charles Leclerc has just walked in the door, a girl on his arm. The waiter is pointing in your general direction, towards an open table a little ways away. There goes your whole morning. He’s going to want to leave now.

Max turns to look, brows raised. “Oh. At least it’s one I like.”

You can’t help the laugh. “Should we go?”

Max turns back to you, perplexed. “What, get up to say hi? I don’t like him that much. He’ll come over here when he sees us.”

Us. You wish he meant it how you want him to.

“No, like-“ you sigh, gaze flickering down to the table. “You don’t want people to know, so-“

“What?” He asks, wide eyed. “What do you mean, I don’t want-“

“You didn’t want to tell anyone,” you say, quietly. You can’t look at him. “We haven’t even really talked about this, and… I figured you…”

You trail off, because you can feel him staring at you. He reaches over and tucks his finger under your chin. He tilts your face upwards towards his. His gaze is soft, a small smile on his face.

“Schat, you have to be joking,” he says, and you stare back at him. “Of course I want to tell people. I have wanted to tell the whole world since I kissed you the first time.”

You blink. “But you- you didn’t want to put a label on it. You never…”

“We never talked about it,” he says. “I was giving you time. I’m a lot. Dating me is a lot. You are… I was following your lead.”

“Oh my god,” you blurt out, a giddy feeling in your chest. “Oh my god, I’m so dumb.”

The two of you just stare at each other for a moment. His eyes are bright and sparkling, his smile spreading across his whole face. You’re so done being casual.

Charles appears at the end of your table seconds later, smiling at the two of you. “Max, hi, good to see you. And I’m sorry, I don’t think we’ve met,” he adds, turning to you.

“Charles, this is my girlfriend,” Max says, reaching across the table to take your hand.

When you greet Charles, you can’t wipe the giddy grin from your face. It stays there the whole rest of the day- through breakfast, through a walk through a park, through a late lunch at Max’s with the cats winding around your ankles. Every time it starts to fade you think of Max, bright blue eyes, his finger under your chin. You fall asleep still smiling. You’re pretty sure it’ll be there when you wake up.

…..

The next time you go out with your friends, Max carries your bag the whole night. He also keeps his hand on the small of your back nearly constantly. He orders and pays for all of your drinks, includes you in all the conversations, and brushes his lips against your temple every time there’s a lull in the talking.

Nobody questions it. None of your friends even bat an eye. You find out why when you end up in the bathroom with the girls, a tradition as old as time itself.

It turns out they all already knew.

“Max told us all the day after he kissed you the first time,” someone tells you. “And then he told us we all had to act like nothing was different, because he didn’t want to scare you off.”

You collapse into a fit of laughter, bracing yourself against the sink. All this time, you were worried about it, and he’d told everyone right away. You’d thought you were the one struggling to be casual. God, you’d have saved yourself so much trouble if you’d only asked. If you’d only told him straightforward what you wanted. If you’d only been up front.

You’re giddy with it, then. You can feel it coursing through your veins and buzzing in your fingertips. You won’t call it love yet, at least not out loud. It’s too soon, right? It can’t be love. But it’s something, and now you want him next to you. You want his lips on yours again. You’re missing him even though he’s just through the door, waiting for you, your bag in his hand.

When you return to his side, you lean up to press a kiss to his cheek. You watch his smile grow and his cheeks turn red. You place your hand on his shoulder and put your lips against his ear.

“You should take me home,” you tell him.

His cheeks get even redder, and he turns to you. “Yeah?”

“Yeah,” you say with a nod. “You’ll walk me home, right?”

“Always,” he agrees.

He takes your hand, squeezes lightly. You feel like you’re glowing brighter than the neon lights above your head.

…..

You slip up over your morning cup of coffee three days later. The cats are in your lap. There’s the perfect amount of cream and sugar in the mug, he’s made it exactly right. The sun is shining through the windows, bouncing off his hair and painting his skin in golden light. You weren’t going to say it out loud, you really weren’t, but it slips past your lips anyways.

“I love you,” you say.

Max laughs, takes the mug from your hands, and kisses you.

Then he says it right back.

read the prequel/ sequel, Someone Sane

okay, now I’ve got my three favorite boys in the masterlist! thanks for reading! come say hi, or check out more of my writing here. drop an ask or a dm to be added to the tag list!

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Holding hands - KR7

[ 645 words ]

[ master list ]

౨ৎ ˖ ࣪⊹ Warnings; smut, slight size kink, hand kink, choking, fingering, praise kink, and poorly google translated Finnish (lol)

౨ৎ ˖ ࣪⊹ Pairing; soft domKimi x innocent subreader (female)

౨ৎ ˖ ࣪⊹ Summary; Kimi had noticed the reader sneaking glances of his hands while bored, so he decides to surprise her.

౨ৎ ˖ ࣪⊹ Authors note; first post, also first time writing smut so I’m sorry if it sucks 😭.

You bounce you’re leg, letting out a sigh. Your bored, you’ve been since about an hour ago. You and Kimi were watching some show he had picked out in the living room, which you had no interest in. Glancing at Kimi, your gaze immediately falling to his hands.

They were already so attractive, so big and vainy. You loved how big he was compared to your short frame, especially his hands, he could throw you around if he wanted, which truthfully you wish for nothing more in that moment. You snap back to reality when you realize he had just caught you staring, you turn your face away quickly, a heavy blush covering your cheeks. You can hear him let out a soft laugh.

“Rakkuas, what is bothering you” love he ask’s in a low voice. Resting his hand on your thigh gently, waiting for your response. You let out a small sigh as he placed his hand on your thigh.

“Nothing” gently squeezing your thighs together, trying to play it off. Keeping your gaze locked on the tv straight ahead. He leans closer to your ear, you feel his soft breath against your neck.

“Vauva don’t lie, I can see you squeezing your thighs together” baby he softly yet slowly drags his hand up your thigh. You watch his hand trail higher, towards the heat between your legs. You suck in a quiet breath. He smirks playfully, kissing from your jaw down your neck softly. His hand finally reaching your core, he rubs gentle, slow circles on your clothed clit.

“Kimi” you mumble closing your eyes quickly, wrapping your hand around his wrist.

“Want me to stop” he whispers against your neck, applying more pressure, rubbing your clit a bit harsher. You nod your head no vigorously, eyes shut tightly in pleasure, moans spilling from your lips.

“Words, Vauva” baby he mumbles into your neck, he picks up his pace as he waits for your response. His free hand sliding down to your hip, gently moving you to sit in his lap.

“Don’t stop” your head falls back in pleasure. Gripping his bicep tightly, bucking your hips into his hand. He pushes your underwear to the side, slowly slipping a finger into your cunt. You let out a loud moan, as he works your clit with his thumb. He pumps his finger in and out at a slow pace, curving his fingers to hit your sweet spot.

“teet niin hyvää minulle” your doing so good for me he slowly slips in a second finger. Picking up his pace, pumping his fingers faster. Still working your clit harshly with his thumb.

“Kimi I-I’m gonna-“ he speeds his fingers up. Moving his hand to your throat, squeezing it gently so you can still breathe. At this point your so close you can’t even put together a coherent sentence. The only thing slipping past your lips was moans and his name.

“Go ahead cum, cum all over my fingers Rakkuas” love he pulls you closer by the throat, kissing you passionately. It was sloppy but that and his words sent you right over the edge. You let out a loud porngraphic moan, your orgasm washes over you hard. You fall onto his chest as your body shakes.

“Still bored” he chuckles while looking down at you. He slowly slips his fingers out of your cunt, you let out soft moan. He moves his fingers up to your lips.

“imeä” suck he mumbles softly, you take his fingers in your mouth and suck gently. You moan at the taste of yourself on his fingers. He pulls his fingers out of your mouth with a small pop.

“Tired” Kimi asks quietly, wrapping his arms around you. You nod your head gently against his chest.

“Round two after my nap” you mumble into his chest. He looks down at you grinning.

“Sounds Perfect”