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haven't you heard i'm the internet girl?

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20 something. latina. professional overthinker. enthusiast writer. i spend most of my time talking about pop culture, f1, hockey, music, movies and books.

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summary: part two of truce. 90% of smut. 10% plot. russell!reader. +18 MDNI word count: 1.7k author's notes: OK?!?!?! THIS GIF THO. sorry it's a "short" one and a bit fast paced but, let me know if i should keep going and what y'all would like to see out of this two!! semi proof-read masterlist

"This is a terrible idea," you whisper against his mouth.

"Probably," he agrees trailing kisses on your jaw

"Max—" you say almost moaning

"Hm?" He straightens himself and stares at you, his voice drops, quieter now “If you want me to stop, I’ll stop.” His fingers push a strand of your hair out of your face.

“I–”

“But, just so you know, I wanted to do this the moment you got in my car”

You stared at him with doe eyes, your cheeks tint red but it’s cute to see Max being vulnerable and thinking you didn’t want this.

"Tomorrow," he starts, "you can forget everything, and we'll go back to whatever this was before tonight." he pauses, his eyes moving over your face unhurried. "But tonight…I just want to be with you." His lips touch the side of your lips.

The silence that follows is the loudest thing you've ever heard.

"That's not fair," you manage to say.

"What isn't?"

"Saying something like that."

The vulnerability disappears, replaced immediately by his smile. "Did it work?"

“Not really, it’s a pain to admit but you had me a hello” You grab his collar and pull him back down. 

He makes a quiet, satisfied sound against your lips that you absolutely refuse to find as attractive as you do. His hands find your waist, walking you slowly backward into the room until the backs of your knees hit the edge of the bed.

His hands reach for the zipper of your dress, unzipping slowly, you feel him smile against your lips. Pausing the kiss, Max hooks his finger on your dress strap and slides them off your shoulder. He watches the dress falling on your feet.

His eyes trail every bit of your body ending on your eyes, he wets his lips as his hands glide the frame of your body causing some goosebumps on your skin. Max pauses admiring you as if you two weren’t desperate seconds ago.

You swallow stepping out of the dress, you kick the heels off and press your palms on his chest. You could feel his heartbeat through, his hands covering yours, guiding you to slide through his abdomen. He watches your movements and lets go as your hands rest on his waist, you slide them lower, reaching for his bulge.

Your breathing feels loud, but the only thing you could pay attention to was Max’s hardness on your palms.

He starts unbuttoning his shirt and taking it off, your hands rise to his abs again, now lightly scratching his skin. Max softly pushes you to lay on the bed, he supports his own body weight with his arms on either side of your body. Pecking your lips he lowers himself to your neck and chest.

"If you change your mind or you don't like it, just say stop," he murmurs between kisses. "I only want to make you feel good."

You close your eyes and nod, melting into the trail his lips leave down your body. His tongue grazes the ridge of your hip as his hands slide your underwear down, discarding it somewhere behind him. He kisses up the inside of your thigh before settling between your legs, hooking them over his shoulders like he has all the time in the world.

And he does. He takes it slow, almost like he’s waiting for you to beg, his teeth are grazing, tongue tracing, mouth pressing soft wet kisses against your skin until you're shifting beneath him. You’re wet already, so when his tongue parts you, your breath catches sharply, your back curls off the mattress and your head drops back.

It feels like a current running under your skin. You rock against him, small sounds escaping you that you barely recognize as your own. His tongue moves in unhurried circles on your clit, and your fingers tangle his hair, pulling him closer.

The warmth of his breath, the pressure of his mouth, the soft drag of the tip of his nose against you all layers into something overwhelming. When he slides a finger inside you, matching his rhythm, a low hum slips out of you. Your cheeks flushed.

His grip tightens on your thigh as he picks up the pace, a second finger teases your entrance and in a seconds he’s pumping them onto you. Your legs go rigid against his shoulders. One hand fists the sheets and your hips bulk up wanting to feel him even more.

He licks all around your pussy. You clench onto his fingers as you feel yourself getting closer. For some reason you try to keep your voice down but you are able to breathe out a “I’m gonna come” as the pleasure pressure builds up.

Max doesn't change a thing. He doesn't falter, he holds you tighter as he mouth and fingers are steady and deep inside you as you fall apart beneath him. Your eyes shut down, your mouth opened as you came.

Your chest is rising and falling as your vision gets clearer, your legs relax and he takes his fingers out of you, but he keeps settled in between your legs with his mouth moving slower and softer. Your body is feeling warm and cold at the same time. You somehow find the strength to reach Max’s shoulder and pull his body to crash on top of you.

Your heartbeat is still all over the place when you kiss him. You'd just had an orgasm and somehow you already want more, you want more of his mouth, his hands, all of it. It doesn't make sense but it feels right.

"You’re beautiful," he says against your lips, breaking the kiss.

You laugh softly, still catching your breath. "And you have your pants on."

“Huh?”

“Why are they still on?”

He blinks at you, then down at himself, like he'd forgotten he was still half-dressed. A slow smile spreads across his face, half sheepish, half something hungrier.

"Right," he says, and sits up to fix that.

You watch him shove the fabric down his hips, kicking the rest of his clothes off onto the floor. His cock is hits his stomach, the tip is wet and the veins are prominent through it. He’s standing on the foot of the bed and you don’t wait for an invitation.

You kneel in the bed moving in front of him, wrapping your hand around the base of him, his throat makes a deep sound. You glance up once, catching his gaze dark and fixed on you, there’s a little tease before you take him into your mouth, your tongue draws lines slowly through his length and you feel him twitching.

He groans as your lips wrapped around his dick and disappears inside your mouth, his hand fists your hair as his hips push forward. You suck him gently, hollowing your cheeks as you take him deeper.

He watched you through half-lidded eyes, you on fours in bed, bobbing your head enough so he hit the back of your throat. His breathing is heavier, he can’t take his hands of your hair and his of the arch of your back as you work with him with your tongue and hand.

His hisses and the messy wet sound filled the room, Max’s hips freezes and you are able to feel the tension coiling tight in him.

“Fuck,” he gasp pulling you back holding your wrist. His eyes are blown wide, chest heaving. “C’mere”

He pulls you up and over him, guiding you to straddle his hips. You position yourself above him, take him in your hand, and sink down slowly. So slowly, he throws his head back, throat groaning, and a hum of pleasure leaves your lips as you feel him stretching you inch by inch. He slides so easily it’s intoxicating.

"Christ," he breathes.

You start moving carefully, adjusting to his size, your hips rolls, finding the angle that makes him grunt and tighten his grip on your thighs. It doesn't take long for you to start feeling drunk on his cock, you shift and clench around him deeply, then rising up just enough to make him chase. His hands find your hips, fingers pressing in hard like can’t bear the thought of not being inside you. 

"Like that?" you ask, breathless, and he groans again, louder, his fingers digging bruises into your skin, your hands reach for the back of your bra and you unhooked, exposing your tits.

"You’re fucking deliciou-" he manages, head thrashing against the pillow. "Scheiße- don't stop-"

You pick up the pace, bouncing on him now, and yours and his moans turn raw, desperate. He's holding your hips, guiding you, meeting your movements with upward thrusts that make you cry out. The room fills with the sound of skin on skin, his grunts mixing with your breathless gasps, and you're both rushing toward it now, no patience left, just blind need.

"Come on Y/N," he grits out, thumb sliding in between your bodies, pressing just where you need him. "Come with me-"

“Oh God,”

Your thighs are burning but it’s impossible to slow down.You shatter first, your body clamping down on him, and he follows immediately after, groaning long and low as he spills inside you, his hips jerking up, holding you down on him.

You collapse forward against his chest, breathing hard, and his arms come around you, holding you there while you both come down.

The silence stretches, thick and warm, broken only by your breathing slowing together. You're still draped over him, skin sticky, limbs tangled, and you should probably move but you can't make yourself care yet. 

"Fuck," you breathe against his shoulder, honest and unguarded. "That was good."

He makes a low sound, satisfied and lazy, his hand tracing up your spine. "Just good?"

"Don't start." You pinch his side lightly. He's grinning, you can feel it

You lift your head enough to glare at him, his hair is wrecked, his mouth still kiss-swollen, your mouth betrays you, twitching upward. 

"I’m just saying, I’m pretty sure you just found out that I’m in fact, a man of many talents." His hand slides down to your hip, thumb pressing in a way that makes you shiver. "Twice, if I counted right."

"Oh my God." You drop your forehead to his chest, "Okay, you win."

You wait for him to make another teasing comment, when there’s none you lift your head to look at him. Max has a soft smile on his lips and his eyes are closed. Yyou straighten up on the bed and lean to peck his lips waiting for a response. 

“What are you thinking about?” you ask

“How to end up on your bed again.”

summary: you and jimin kept things professional.........until you didn't. and it only took one late night in the practice room to remind you both why staying away was never really an option. +18 MDNI word count: 1.9k author's notes: this one is for my army girlies <3 i think i've never wroted something this poetic and this horny before. stream arirang non proof read! btw i know the song it's not about a romantic relationship but the title fits this perfectly hehe masterlist

The practice room emptied the way it always did, the last goodnights fading, the boys leaving one by one, the bows, the door pulling shut, and then just silence. 

You should have left too, but you didn't, because even after long practices you still had energy for something else, something you'd been thinking about since the morning run-through when the crew passed through all the choreographies but one, the one you needed to experiment and make your own.

You pressed play in the audio, and his voice echoed in the speakers.

They don't know about us. 

How your voice

Can calm the sea…

You dimmed the lights until only the neon stayed, closing the door and facing the mirror and letting the beat find you.

It wasn't a complete choreography, your hands moving up your own body as you crossed the floor slowly, tracing your own figure while the deep beats pulse underneath.

But you leaned into the slower bit, the sensual bit. There's a part of you that felt affected by how the voices matched and created something almost too warm, not the voices… his voice, the way Jimin sounded, made your mind travel, and your skin remember things it shouldn't.

The thing is, the two of you had agreed to keep the distance; you knew how long his contract was and how screwed you'd be if anyone found out that you two were involved once, but knowing didn't stop the memories, the glances, or even any opportunities of being close to one another.

You moved like you were being pulled, torso swaying into the beat as your foot slid through the floor, your entire body feeling every note, feet stopping, hips dipping and arms cutting sharp angles that melted into slow dragging lines, your finger tips playing at your throat, feeling your own pulse before sliding down to stop just above your hip where your mind tricked you with the ghost of his hand holding your waist.

You didn't hear him come in; the music covered it and you were too far inside whatever you were doing to notice the change in the room. You didn't notice him standing near the entrance just watching as your rhythm changed with the beat drop, your head tipping back, and your eyes closesd.

Then you felt him before you saw him.

Opening your eyes slowly, you caught his figure behind you at the mirror, circling slowly around your space, his eyes tracking your hips, spine and the line of your arms, a lazy smile forming on his face as he stepped closer behind you, following your movements like it had been planned.

Your back touched his chest, your legs slid apart, leaning your hips against him. His hands clutched your waist, closing every gap, and guiding you in the beat. You reached back for his neck, chest heaved, lips parted because proximity was already too much and also not enough. 

His thumbs traced lazy circles against your hip bones as you rolled again, slow and deep, his fingers tightened, his right hand slides from your waist to the outside of your thigh, trailing slow, his left hand pressing flat against your stomach and pulling you closer into the arch of your own back until your head fell against his shoulder and his lips brushed your ear.

"That’s good," he whispers.

He moved you, unrushed, his hands turned you gently, so you were facing him, chest to chest, his eyes dropping to your mouth, then back up, his hands settling on your waist again as the sway continued far from the actual beat.

He tucked a strand of hair behind your ear and then his fingers turned so the back of his hand brushed down your cheek in that same way it had always made you melt, your eyes closed but your hands finding him, one on his shoulder curling into the fabric, the other flat against his ribs, feeling his heartbeat.

His eyes are with a soft shine, almost like he's noticing you for the first time, his hand cupped your jaw, and his thumb brushed your lower lip once, his forehead touched yours, you slowed down even more so his lips could meet yours.

He dipped his head, brushing his lips on yours—like a question, his breath warm against your mouth, your fingers tightened on his shoulder. That was all the answer he needed.

Suddenly, his hands were dragging you closer, deepening the kiss. His tongue traced your lower lip, and you parted for him without thinking, your hand sliding from his ribs to the back of his neck. You softly dug your nails into his skin, and he made a quiet sound against your mouth—low and needy, making something in you snapped.

Your other hand fisted his shirt, and you pulled him closer, as if you could crawl inside his chest. You were never able to resist him.

His hands left your waist. One slid up your back, holding onto your spine. The other cupped the back of your head, tilting your jaw, kissing you in a different angle. You moaned against his lips, you'd been craving for this and hadn't even known it.

His teeth grazed your lower lip. You gasped but he swallowed the sound.

Walking you without breaking any contact, he presses into you enough for you to walk backwards and feel the cold glass of the mirror on your back. Hips glued to yours as his hands are all over the place, gripping, grinding you against him in a desperate way.

You pulled at his shirt, trying to feel skin, trying to find more of him. His mouth wasn't enough, fuck, even his hands weren't enough. The mirror was the only thing keeping you standing. Your knees were gone, your breath was gone. Every thought that wasn't him was gone.

He broke the kiss just long enough to breathe your name.

You chased his mouth before he could finish, bringing him back down by the neck. Your teeth caught his lower lip, and your tongue slid against his. He groaned louder this time, his hand dropping from your hip down to your thigh, lifting slightly, just enough to pin you harder into the glass. You wrapped your leg around his hip without thinking.

The neon light flickered above, painting his face blue. He held you like he was trying to make up for every night he hadn't touched you.

“J, I need you,” you say against his mouth.

“Yeah?” His voice was rough but barely audible, dropping you slowly on the floor, his thumb traces the line of your jaw. “I’m all yours.” 

He lowers his head, planting wet kisses on your neck and collarbone, his hands move to the hem of your shirt, you lift your arms and let him pull it over your head.

His warm hand tracing your sides, over your ribs, thumbs brushing the underwire of your bra. He pulled back just to look at you, his gaze heavy and dark as it traveled down your body.

“Beautiful,” he breathed, and the word landed somewhere deep in your core.

Your hands reach for his shirt, and he helps to pull it off. He squeezes his chest against yours; the weight of his skin makes you quietly gasp.

His mouth finds your neck again, and his tongue trails along your skin while his hands work the clasp of your bra. Jimin mutters something under his breath and his palms cupped you, your back arches off the mirror.

"Jimin—" His name came out broken.

"I know," he murmured against your collarbone. "I know."

He dropped to his knees in front of you, and the sight of him there, on his knees, looking up at you like you were something holy, made your breath catch and skin tingle. His fingers hooked into the waistband of your pants, tugging slowly, his eyes never leaving yours as he pulled them down your legs.

You stepped out of them, suddenly aware of how exposed you were, how little was left between you. But his hands were so gentle on your thighs, his lips pressing kisses to your hip bone, your stomach, the spot just below your belly button.

"I’ve missed you," he said softly.

“I can tell.”

He laughed quietly against your skin, and you felt it vibrate through you. His fingers traced the edge of your underwear, teasing, waiting. You threaded your hands into his hair and tugged, just enough to pull his face back up to yours.

"Don't tease," you whispered. "Not right nowq."

Something shifted in his expression—the playful edge giving way to something rawer, hungrier. He stood in one smooth motion, his hands gripping your waist, and turned your body. 

Your hands rest on the mirror as your breath fogged the glass. From behind, you could feel Jimin’s through his sweatpants, hard and desperate.

"Can you be quiet for me?"

You nodded, biting your lip.

Fumbling with his waistband, his feet nudged yours apart, opening your legs, then there was nothing between you but the heat and pressure of him hovering.

He bites softly the skin of your shoulder, one of his hands reaches between your legs, massaging your swollen clit.

The sound he made when he pushed inside you will replay for weeks. Months, maybe forever. Your forehead touches the mirror, and your back arches. You couldn't feel anything but him filling you, stretching you, his fingers circling the right spot.

He didn't move at first; you could feel the twitch inside you. His head falls into your back, his whole body trembling.

"Fuck," he whispered. "I forgot—god, I forgot how—"

"Move," you begged. "Please, J, please move."

He pulled out slowly, agonizingly, and then snapped back in. His rhythm started stable, almost careful, but it didn't last. His hands gripped your hips hard enough to bruise, his pace quickening, your bodies finding a desperate rhythm.

You straighten your arms, helping with the thrust to lean even deeper, in between heavy breaths and moans, Jimin takes his hands off and pulls himself out. Before you can even complain, he moves and shifts you up, your legs intertwined around his waist, and he can hit a different angle.

Your hands clutched his shoulders as he pumped himself in again, the feeling of pleasure grew again as if it had never stopped. His eyes are darker, staring at your breasts bouncing, his grip is tight over your butt, lifting and dropping your weight on his cock.

A breathy smile appears on his face before his tongue slides down your neck and lips. You try to kiss him, but your mouth can’t seem to close since you’re trying to contain your whimpers.

"Close," he panted. "I'm close—"

"Me too, me too, don't stop—" You say, powerless.

His pace is faster, your legs almost fall, but Jimin’s arms keep you pinned against the glass. It’s harder to stay still as your vision starts to see stars. Jimin grunts as he pushes himself harder and faster, an indecent sound escapes your lips as you burst on his cock.

Pulsing and growling, he follows, spilling inside you, his forehead dropping to your chest, both of you sweating and barely breathing.

He doesn’t pull out. Just held you there against the mirror, his arms wrapped tight around you, your legs still locked around his waist. 

“We can’t seem to stay away from each other, can we?”

You smiled against his neck, your heart still racing, your body still humming. "Can you blame us?"

He pulled back just enough to look at you; it was clear in his gaze the conflict between keeping you a secret and letting the world know.

You kissed him deeply, quieter than before. It tasted like goodbye even though you knew it wasn’t. 

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they don't know 'bout us (nsfw) - co-workers

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summary: you and lando had a one night stand and kept a secret. now you're introduced by a mutual friend and have to deal with the tension. +18. mndi.

word count: 3.1k author's notes: alexa play sticky feat. glorilla. i wrote this a few weeks ago and i had a revelation that i'm a whore for any type of secret relationship. so this worked out perfectly with 1. dean and allie (ughhhghghhg) 2. the other post i've scheduled for next week hehehehe (basically same concept of this one but w/ jimin!!!!) masterlist

Three months ago.

Three months since I photographed an F1 driver for my work.

Three months since he somehow talked me into giving him my number while shamelessly flirting between shots.

I remember thinking he probably does that all the time, and yet somehow I still ended up at his apartment.

His bed.

His kitchen counter.

His shower.

That night lived rent-free in my head for days afterward, but we never really talked about it. I decided it was a mistake. Not exactly professional behavior on my part.

So I ask him to stay between us. 

Which brings us to now…

∙ ∙ ∙

It was a beautiful day in Monaco. The summer heat had mellowed into something almost perfect — the kind of weather that makes it very easy to say yes to a villa weekend, even when you'd be the third wheel to Oscar and Lily. The view alone made it worth it. That, and the idea of being somewhere that wasn't my office.

I arrived later than everyone else, as usual. Before I even stepped fully inside, I could already hear Alex and Carlos arguing over a game, music floating somewhere in the background, and a few voices I didn’t recognize.

Lily appeared and grabbed my arm like she'd been waiting at the door.

"Finally," she said, pulling me into a hug. 

“Hey, I’m happy to be here,” I say, hugging her tight

"I’m so glad you’re here! let’s go, there are people you haven't met yet."

She steered me toward the patio, doing the quick round of introductions.

 “Guys, this is my friend Y/n, she’s the amazing photographer I told you.”  I smiled and waved; everyone was mid-conversation and relaxed about it, which I appreciated. 

And then, at the end of the table, a familiar face looked up.

That slow, stupid grin, the backwards cap, the exact same eyes that flash into my memory often.

My stomach dropped.

I mean, I did this to myself. Out of every guy in Monaco, I had to hook up with the one in my friend’s inner circle.

I fixed my face as fast as I could and nodded to him with my lips shut tight.

Lily seated me near him. Of course she did. 

The table was loud and full and easy — Charles was mid-story about a press interaction, everyone leaning in, which meant I had exactly zero excuses not to look natural. I poured myself a drink, laughed at the right moments, and avoided the left side of my peripheral vision with the focus of someone defusing something.

He was quiet about it, at least. 

Just that slow energy that pulls my attention like a magnet. Every now and then, I looked up, and he was already watching me, with this expression like he was very entertained.

I looked away every time. Quickly. The truth is, I don’t know how to act around him.  

Later, I drifted toward the bar to mix drinks for the girls. It was a good excuse. Pretending to be busy to avoid giving myself up.

I was halfway through when I felt him appear at the corner of my eye, leaning on the counter with his elbows, completely unbothered.

"Do you take orders?" he asked.

"Sure," I said, keeping my eyes on the glass. "What do you want?"

He glanced around, just briefly, and lowered his voice just enough. "I think you know what I like."

I stilled for half a second. Torturing me seemed to be his way to entertain himself.

Lily and Alexandra chose that exact moment to arrive, Lily still laughing at something from the other side of the patio. I straightened up and handed over the drink I'd been making, grateful for the interruption.

"Wait, Lando, did you meet Y/N? She’s an incredible photographer," Lily asked, leaning her hip against the counter and looking between us. "I realized I didn't properly introduce you."

Lando tilted his head, his gaze dragging across my face like a physical touch. He took a slow sip of whatever was in his glass, his eyes never leaving mine. "I was just wondering about that myself," he murmured. "You look incredibly familiar. Have we met before?"

I focused very hard on slicing a lime, my fingers trembling slightly against the blade. "I don’t think so," I said, keeping my tone flat, professional. 

"Maybe you saw her in that shoot you were talking about it" Alexandra suggested, blissfully unaware as she stirred her drink with a straw. 

"Maybe," Lando said, though he didn't look at Alexandra. I felt his eyes burning on me.

…

The evening softened, people split into smaller groups, music got quieter, I stopped attempting to win games, and the drinks started to kick in. Lando’s presence becomes more comfortable. By the time the house was mostly settled, I was alone on the patio, watching a boat move slowly in the dark water below.

I heard him before I saw him. 

"Doesn't seem like either of us is calling it a night," he said, his hands were holding a glass almost empty, his shirt was a bit more wrinkled, and his hair was now without his cap and a bit messier.

"Apparently not."

He stood beside me for a moment, looking out in the same direction I was. "Do you want to go for a swim?"

"I don't think we should."

"Why?"

"It's almost two in the morning."

"And?" He tilted his head. "Didn't we just agree we’re not the early bird type?"

I rubbed the back of my neck. The water in the pool looked peaceful and inviting. Swimming actually sounded nice. "I don’t have my swimsuit on, and I’m afraid that if I go to my bedroom, I would actually stay there, so...." 

He looked at me, narrowing his eyes, like that might be the least convincing argument he’s ever heard.

"There’s nothing I hav-you're making it very hard not to say something dirty to you."

"Then don't."

"Ok. But we’re swimming then."

The pool faced the city and the docks, the lights of Monaco stacked up the hillside in the distance. Lando left his watch and glass on a side table and started taking off his shirt in a way that shouldn’t register as important but absolutely did. I looked away. I'm mostly sure he noticed.

I slipped off my jeans and top, grateful in a very specific way for my choice of underwear, and dove in before I could overthink it.

When I surfaced, he was still on the steps, inching in like the cold water was a personal attack.

“Oh my god, you’re the one to convince me to swim and not even going for a proper dive?” I teased

"I didn't think it through."

I laughed as he finally sank in with a sharp exhale.

…

“What got you into photography?” he asks.

 “My dad used to take photos all the time, he had a collection of old film cameras and stuff, and then I started stealing them when I was like thirteen.” 

“Stealing?”

“Borrowing without permission.”

He grins. “Oof, rebel.”

“I know, very dangerous.”

He watches me for a second, like he’s trying to picture it.

“You travel a lot for it?”

“Sometimes. Depends on the job.” I shrug. “It’s been mostly Europe lately.”

“Mostly Monaco?”

“For the last four months, yes, exclusive Monaco.” 

“Right”

I glance at him, and it’s like for a second he forgot that we met here.

“And you? Do you like it here?”

He leans back at the edge of the pool, resting his head on the border

 “I do,” he says. “I like the weather and the fact that most of my friends live here.”

“That’s a safe answer.”

“It’s the true one,” he says 

I shake my head, smiling. It got easier in the water. Easier to talk. Easier to forget, for a few minutes, that I was way too embarrassed to be around him. Now it feels natural; it’s nice to actually get to know him.

“So,” he says, and by his tone, I've got an idea of the subject he will bring, "I'm sorry I didn't text you. After."

I glanced at him. He was looking straight ahead, leaning at the pool's edge.

"I didn't know if you wanted to hear from me," he continued. "And then I kept putting it off until it was too late to do it."

I was quiet for a second. Honesty felt the way to go at two in the morning, in cold water, with no one watching.

"I didn't reach out either," I admitted. "What happened was... out of character for me. I got embarrassed. I didn't want to make it awkward."

He frowned. "How come?"

“I mean, it was a one-time thing; I did think you would have thought about it.” 

He shakes his head, looking straight. “You’ve got a very optimistic opinion of yourself if you think that night was forgettable.” 

His statement caught me off guard. The reminder of our last night together sent a jolt of heat through me. 

When he finally looks back at me, there’s no smirk on his face this time. Just something steady.

“Oh,” I say quietly, processing his words. “I just figured…” I start, shrugging a little. “You know. You meet a lot of people. I didn’t exactly assume I’d be… memorable.”

He lets out a soft scoff. “So your solution was to pretend it never happened.”

“More like… hope it politely disappeared.”

He studies me for a second.

“Nah,” he says slowly. “That wasn’t going to happen.”

I bit my lips as I smiled. “Apparently not.”

There’s a brief, comfortable pause before I add.

“Also… if we’re confessing things.”

He tilts his head slightly. “Go on.”

I swirl my hand through the water.

“It wasn’t exactly easy to forget on my side either.”

His expression shifts, he sucks his teeth and raises his brows, “Oh yeah?” 

I side-eye him. “You’re acting surprised.”

“I’m acting curious.” The beginning of a smirk settled on his lips. “That’s amazing for my ego,” 

“Oh my…shut up,” I push his shoulder lightly as we chuckle

“Can I ask you a question?” he asks as his smile fades a bit

“Go for it.”

“Do you regret it?

I scrunch my nose as I respond, “Not really.”

I surprised myself a little. I'd spent so long convincing myself it was nothing — that I was nothing to him, that he was nothing to me — and somewhere along the way I think I started believing it. It was easier.

But then he looks at me like that, says something like that, and the whole story I've been telling myself just... seems nonsense.

“Good, because if it weren’t for the miscommunication, I would do it all over again,” he casually states

I bite my lips as I confess, “I wouldn’t be opposed to that either.”

“Not opposed?”

“I’m trying to sound dignified.”

“You’re doing great.”

I nudge the water toward him with my hand.

“Don’t ruin it.” 

He studies me for a second, clearly amused. Then he shrugs lightly.

“Well,” he says, very casually, “good news.”

I narrowed my eyes, waiting for him to say it.

He pushes himself off the edge of the pool, standing in the shallow water.

“I’m free tonight.”

“…you’re unbelievable.”

“And apparently unforgettable,” he winks, sitting at the edge, dripping wet.

I laughed despite myself and looked away.

I floated on my back, arms out, looking up at the sky, enjoying the hum of the water around my ears. I let myself drift for a moment before I righted myself, looking in Lando’s direction, I see his eyes locked on me. Not at my face. At my body.

I shake my head, pushing wet hair out of my eyes as I swim closer to the steps. Climbing out, the night air hits my skin, shivering a little, I look around for something, anything, that could pass as a towel; my clothes aren’t near enough to dry my whole body.

Behind me, I hear Lando getting up as well. There are still droplets of water running down his shoulders. He stands up and shakes his head like a dog.

“Elegant,” I say, wiping my face with my shirt.

“Says the one drying herself in a tiny piece of fabric?” He reaches down to where he dropped his clothes earlier and grabs his shirt from the table, tossing it towards me.

I catch it and pull it over my head. The fabric is soft and way too big, falling to the middle of my tights; it smells like him, and I hate myself for noticing.

“Let’s go inside, you’re cold,” he tilted his head toward the house and extended one hand. I looked at it for a second longer than I needed to. Then I took it.

Inside, we moved quickly and quietly to avoid making the floor even wetter, both of us on the edge of laughing about it without actually laughing. The house was dark and still and felt like a completely different place than it had a few hours ago — smaller somehow, just the two of us moving through it.

We slowed down when we got to the hallway. I stopped outside my door and turned around, and that's when I noticed that he was still holding my hand. Not like he was guiding me, his fingers were around mine tightly, like he had no intention of letting go.

I looked down at it for a second. So did he.

When I looked back up, he was already watching me, close enough that I was aware of every inch between us. The moment just sat there, my heart felt heavy, our eyes were saying something neither of us had said out loud yet. I want you.

His expression was giving me the chance to make the call.

So I did.

I stepped forward and reached up, pulling him down to me. His hands came to my face immediately, steady and certain. The kiss was warm and a little breathless and nothing like the careful distance I was trying to maintain all evening — it was the other version of us, the one that had existed three months ago.

He smiled against my mouth. I felt it before I saw it.

"Took you long enough," he murmured.

"Shut up," I said, pulling his lips into mine as we entered the bedroom.

We stumble inside; the kiss is messier, I part my lips just enough, and his tongue slides in. I taste the alcohol from earlier, warm and fresh. Our bodies are still wet and cold, but inside I can feel the heat growing. His hands land at my waist like it’s a familiar gesture. Lando shuts and locks the door, still holding me tight. 

My fingers brush through the damp curls at the back of his head. We’re breathing so hard I can't tell where his breath ends and mine begins. I thought I had a good reason not to do this. Standing here, I can't remember what it was. 

“I missed your kiss,” he says against my mouth, his hands slide to my ass, giving a firm squeeze. 

His hands move fast, yanking his shirt over my head, sliding down to my stomach, past my navel, his fingers hook into the waistband of my underwear. I lift my hips just enough for him to pull, as the damp fabric slides down my thighs, I unclasp my bra, letting it fall somewhere on the floor.

I grab the front of his shorts—the wet fabric clinging to his hips—and start pulling. He helps, shoving them down his thighs, then kicking them off one foot. Guiding his body to the bed, I push him into it. He takes his boxers off, and his back hits the mattress. I climbed on top of him.

We lined up perfectly, him hard in my entrance, his eyes tracking the progress of my hands touching him and aligning his cock, enough for me to sink on him.

 “Of fuck.” A breath sound comes out of Lando’s throat. “Just like that.”

I push down on my knees, straddling my hips deeper. It feels so good that it stuns me. Stretching me, his dick hits the perfect spot inside me, the friction, the sense of fullness, makes my eyes roll back in my head.

“Mhm, yes, Lando…” I whine

I press my palm against his chest for support. One of his hands squeezes my waist as the other holds my breast. I fasten the pace, rocking on his cock, the angle is so deep, my breath hitches, and a desperate, obscene sound escapes my lips.

“Shhh, baby,” Lando hisses.

I bite my lip trying to control myself, but my body reacts involuntarily. My thighs burn, but I keep squeezing him tighter.

Just like he became aware of thoughts, Lando moves swiftly, lifting me off and him. 

My knees sink into the mattress, and I arch my back enough so my legs are spread open and my ass is high. 

“That’s it, show me how much you want it,” he says into my neck. He adjusts himself behind me and buries himself back inside of me with one thrust. Immediately, my legs tremble. Lando grips my waist, keeping me still and angling his pounds.

I sob and whimper into the back of my hands, powerless. The sound of our bodies frantically slapping against each other takes over my senses. I’m drunk on him, he’s panting my name under his breath, and reaching for between my legs. His finger slips to my swollen clit and rubs me faster.

Then everything inside me clenches, feeling every thick inch of him. When that pressure builds intensely, I can’t hold on anymore. I shatter. Bursting like a dam, my skin is hot, eyelids feel heavy, and Lando’s keeping pounding roughly.

“I’m gonna come.” His words are choppy, my pulse in my neck is hammering when he growls my name, and his cock twitches inside of me.

I’m in a state of haze, still riding the wave of my orgasm. I feel a warm liquid drip out of my pussy as Lando pulls out. 

We fall our sweaty bodies into bed, and I give a small laugh. He does too, and for a minute that's all there is — just both of us catching our breath in the dark.

"I'm having a bit of deja vu," he says.

"What—"

"I mean, partial deja vu. For the full experience, we'd need a kitchen, a love seat…"

"Oh, my God." I cover my face with my hands, laughing.

He blows out a sigh, "We're pretty good at this."

“Hate to admit it.”

“I’m serious, there’s something about us, about you…that’s different,”

“That’s the sex talking.”

 “It’s not, I promise.” 

 I turn my head to look at him. He’s gonna be the death of me.

summary: the girl who's wouldn't want to not be near Max Verstappen ends up finding out he’s actually not the worst. max verstappen x russell!reader word count: 1.9k author's notes: should i make part two? a nsfw part two? english is not my first language, i use grammarly to help me with grammar, besides that fuck ai - semi proof read. masterlist

It's almost 3 a.m. The only thing you wish for more than going back in time and refusing that party invitation is for your brother to answer his bloody phone.

You're outside the club in Hungary, where the post-race party happened. You don't speak the language, and you don't know the name of your hotel, let alone its location. And your perfect, responsible older brother got too drunk to drive—let alone remember he showed up with his own sister.

Now you're less desperate and more just… numb. Praying for a miracle—someone, anyone—to pick up while you still have battery life. The short sparkly dress and heels were also a huge mistake. As the night drags on, the wind seems determined to freeze you.

Then, as if the universe has a sick sense of humor, you feel two guys approaching.

Yep. Definitely not your night.

They say something to you that you think is Hungarian, smiling in a way that immediately makes your stomach tighten. You shake your head politely.

"No, thank you." For some reason, you think that'll make them leave you alone.

They keep talking. You don't understand a word. One of them gestures down the street, motioning for you to come with them.

Your grip tightens around your phone, and the energy doesn't feel helpful at all. It never does, though.

Luckily, two security guards pass through you, interrupting before the situation can get any more uncomfortable. They say something sharply to the men, who walk off quickly. You look around, confused. Whose security guards are these? And then you spot him.

Max. Of course.

Your heart betrays you a little by skipping a beat.

You've never known how to explain the feeling you get when he's around. You've barely exchanged ten words with him over all the years you've gone to races. But based on your brother's experiences—the fights, the tension, the way George reacts sometimes—you decided a long time ago that Max Verstappen was trouble.

You also don't know how to explain the way your stomach does a strange little flip every time he walks in. It's a strange situation, how he can be so annoying and charming at the same time.

It's very bad that he just helped you and he's the only familiar face around, because somehow, against every instinct you have, that comforts you.

He just doesn't need to know that.

"You okay?" he asks.

"I had it under control," you say, pressing your lips together.

He raises an eyebrow. "Sure looked like it."

You side-eye him, refusing to give him the satisfaction of a real response.

"Where's George?" he asks.

"He left."

"Okay… and why are you still here exactly?"

You take a deep breath. You know how stupid you're about to sound. But you're too cold and too tired to lie.

"I don't know the name of the hotel. And George, Carmen, and everyone else I was with aren't picking up their phones. Also, I don't think anyone here understands me enough to give me that information, so…" You stare at the street, hugging yourself.

You feel him looking at you for a long second. When you turn your face, Max is biting the inside of his cheek.

The bastard is holding back a smirk.

You roll your eyes, instantly regretting every word you've just said.

"Come on," he says. "I'll drive you. Everyone's staying at the same hotel. I know where it is." His eyes drop to your bare legs, just for a second. "Also, I can't let you stay out here wearing… this dress. So just… let's go."

"I don't need—"

"What's your plan? Sleep here? Die of hypothermia?"

"I'm not sure. Whatever happens first."

"God, you're stubborn." He shrugs off his jacket and holds it out to you. "I respect that, but your lips are turning blue, and you are alone here. So take this and accept that I'm your only choice right now."

I can't believe this.

Why is this happening to me?

I guess he won't take no for an answer.

And I'm going to have to accept.

I'm going to have to put a Red Bull jacket on.

Your internal scream is deafening. Max doesn't say anything—just stands there holding the jacket out, that stupid smirk playing at the corner of his mouth. You hate that he's right.

You hate this night. You hate that when you finally snatch the jacket from his hands, the fabric is still warm from his body.

Shit.

"Fine," you mutter, shoving your arms through the sleeves. It smells strong—clean, woodsy. And it feels good. Too good. "There. Happy?"

"Ecstatic." He's already walking toward his car. He opens the passenger door for you and waits.

Your eyes narrow. He's definitely enjoying this more than he should.

You slide into the seat. He closes the door and moves around to his side. The car is warm. It smells like him. He pulls away from the curb, the low hum of the engine filling the silence. You side-eye him, observing him casually driving.

It's a bit hard to accept that he's not the complete asshole you thought he was.

Beside you, Max glances over briefly.

"All those years I've known you, I don't think I've ever seen you be this quiet," he says.

"I'm saving my energy."

"For what?"

"In case you start being, you know… you."

A small huff of laughter leaves him.

"And what was that supposed to be?"

"You tell me. I've heard things."

"From George?"

You hesitate.

Max nods slowly, grinning, eyes back on the road. "Riiight, because you're not biased at all, and your brother isn't the most dramatic person alive."

Now it's your turn to huff. "What? Can you blame him? You don't exactly act like an angel."

He shrugs one shoulder. "Most people hate me already. Being rich and winning races doesn't help, so…"

A slight pang of guilt falls upon you. Not that you hated him, but it was hard not to take your brother's side.

"I don't hate you," you confess quietly.

"You're George's sister."

You narrow your eyes at him. "Meaning?"

"Meaning," he says casually, "you probably decided you hated me a few years ago."

Your mouth opens.

Then closes.

Because, unfortunately… he's not entirely wrong.

Max glances over again, catching your expression.

"There it is," he says.

"What?"

"That face."

"What face?"

"The one where you realize I'm right but you don't want to say it."

You scoff and turn toward the window again, the corner of your mouth curving slightly. "You really know how to annoy a Russell."

He clicks his tongue. "What can I say? It's a talent."

"Of course it is," you say, rolling your eyes.

He tilts his head slightly. "Oh? What's that tone about?"

"The great Max Verstappen obviously is a man of many talents."

Max lets out a quiet hum at that, like he's considering responding.

"Many talents, huh?" he repeats. "Why do you sound almost like you're curious?"

Your brows lift. "Curious about what exactly?"

He shrugs one shoulder, completely unfazed.

"About the many talents you just mentioned." His smirk grows. "You trying to discover something tonight?"

You stare at him for a second longer than necessary, caught slightly off guard by how casually he said it.

Is he…?

No.

He can't be.

Max wouldn't make a move on you.

Definitely not.

"You're unbelievably full of yourself." You fold your arms, trying to keep it cool.

Max glances at you again, the corner of his mouth twitching like he's barely holding back another comment. You're suddenly very aware of your surroundings. What if he was making a move? That came out of nowhere. Why do you feel like your cheeks are about to turn red?

A few minutes later, the car slows as it pulls into the hotel entrance.

"Well," he says lightly, glancing toward the building. "Looks like your dramatic survival story has a happy ending."

"Oh my God," you breathe. "Finally."

He stops the car near the front and hands the keys to the valet, stepping forward. As you step out of the passenger side, the cool air hits your legs again. You're shivering again. The thought about being cold barely finishes forming before Max steps beside you.

His hand lands lightly on the small of your back as he guides you toward the entrance.

The sudden contact sends a strange rush through you, like your body forgot how to behave normally. Your shoulders stiffen slightly.

Stop that. Be normal, Y/N.

He quickly removes it a second later, like he became aware of his movement.

Inside, the lobby is quiet. Your heels click softly on the floor. Grabbing the card key, you walk toward the elevators.

You clear your throat.

"Well," you say, pressing the button. "You got me here alive, so I guess I have to say thank you."

"See? I wasn't that bad." Max leans back slightly against the wall beside the elevator, arms loosely crossed. "Come on, let me walk you to your room."

You shake your head immediately.

"It's okay, really. You were a lot of help already."

"Please," he says as the elevator doors slide open. "I'm just making sure you don't get lost again."

You give him a look as you step inside. "You'll never let me forget that, will you?"

"Nope."

The elevator doors close, and the space suddenly feels… very small. The quiet between you two is… different. Heavier, maybe.

Time slows down as you start looking back at your evening, thinking how the hell your heart started beating so fast because of Max Verstappen. God, get it together.

The elevator dings a few seconds later, and you both step out. Your room isn't far down the hallway. You stop at the door with the card in your hands. The moment lingers for a second longer than expected.

"Safe and sound. Thank you again."

Max nods once, hands sliding into his pockets.

"No problem. That was… fun." One corner of his mouth lifts.

You stare at him.

He stares back, the familiar teasing look still there, but his eyes don't move away. Not even a little.

Your lips press together, fighting a smile.

"Goodnight, Verstappen."

"Goodnight, Y/N."

You swipe the keycard and push the door open, stepping inside before you can give yourself time to overthink what just happened. As the door closes behind you, you lean against it for a second, pressing your hand to your chest like that might slow your heart down.

What the hell was that?

Why didn't that feel… bad?

You breathe out, trying to regain composure because you're not thinking straight. You feel desperate to vent this to someone, but you remember that your friends and sister-in-law are probably passed out.

You decide to go to the front desk to see if Carmen is there—safe and alive. Alive enough to help you understand things.

You pull the door open—

Max is standing right there.

His fist is raised mid-air, clearly about to knock.

For a split second, you both just freeze.

"Hi… what… happened?"

"I forgot something," he says.

Shit. The jacket.

"Oh, right. Sorry, I—I forgot about it too." You slide it off and hold it out to him. "Here."

His eyes drop to your lips for half a second.

"It wasn't the jacket," he says, stepping closer to you.

His body gets closer, and you can't think of anything except his lips. You both crash into each other desperately. It's the kind of kiss that steals your breath and your sanity all at once—his hand sliding into your hair as your back presses harder against the door. The jacket slips from your fingers, forgotten, falling to the floor as you pull him closer and closer.

The only thought left in your head is that maybe you should' have've gotten lost around Verstappen a long time ago.

warning: +18. NSFW CONTENT. MINORS DNI.

summary: the one were two shy people get horny. you and oscar going to the next phase in the relationship.

word count: 1.7k

author's notes: can you tell i don't know when to shut up? did any of this make sense? i had a vision in my head and i'm a bit rusty, so idk if i was able to translate it into words. i'm a visual type of person...so....

this is for the birthday boy of the week, op, i can't picture oscar being super rough or dom so i kinda imagine him being shy/awkward but definitely horny enough to make a move. also, this started as a 'house tour' song adaptation.

once again, english is not my first language, i used grammarly to help me with the commas and correct grammar anddd it's semi proof read.

It’s been four minutes since Oscar parked his car in front of your apartment, four minutes of two people who had just had the best date of their lives and were absolutely not ready to end it.

A smile tugged at his mouth, the one he'd been wearing all night, the one tht made your knees feel weak. He wasn't even doing anything different, same easy charm, being the gentleman he has always been,  but tonight, things just shifted in a way that was impossible not to notice...Things just felt right.

It was easy to tell he was feeling the same thing because he kept looking at you, looking at you in a different way...his eyes darker, his voice lower, and his hands constantly seeking your touch. You didn’t know if it was the few days you’ve spent away from each other, but even the kiss felt different today, it’s like your mouths wanted to say something more.

And so you waited, for him to say something, for you to find the right words.

“So…um i should go” you breathe out, locking eyes with him.

His eyes dropped to your mouth for half a second, he tried to hide it, but you saw it, and then snapped back up to your eyes.

“What’s going on?”

"I've been… thinking."

"About what?"

His jaw worked. "Whether I'm going to behave myself or not."

Oh.

Oh.

If you felt hot already, now you're almost catching on fire. You tilted your head, gathering courage to say: "And what did you decide?"

He hesitated for a split second before opening his door, exiting the car going in your direction as he opened yours. You reach for his hands, feeling your whole body vibrate in adrenaline.

He follows you inside, hands on your back like he suddenly doesn’t know what to do. You are sure your heartbeat is the only sound in the empty lobby, you press at the floor number when you feel him, closing the space between you. He grabs your face and makes a soft, startled sound before melting into it, lips parting against yours with a low hum that shoots straight through you.

The elevator hums beneath your feet, but all you can feel is him…warm, steady, kissing you like he’s been waiting weeks for this. You smile against his mouth, whispering, “I’ve been waiting for this the whole night”.

“We’ve kissed before” his voice was barely there as he holds your face

“We have”

“And i’m not planning on stopping soon,” he whispers, pressing another kiss into your lips.

The elevator doors slide open, your fingers curl into the front of his shirt and you pull him backward out of the elevator, walking him blindly down the hall until your back finds your front door. 

He cages you against it, one hand braced by your head, the other sliding to your hip, giving a firm squeeze.

"Keys," he murmurs.

"What?"

"Keys, Y/N, unless you want to do this in the hallway."

You fumble behind you, barely looking, until you feel the lock click. The door swings open and you're stumbling inside together, his mouth never leaving yours.

Adrenaline rushes through every part of your body, your mind keep screaming it’s happening. It feels ecstatic, yet strangely relaxed at the same time.

The door slams shut as Oscar presses you against it again, his body is warm and solid and everywhere. His thigh slides between yours and you rock against him without thinking, a small sound escaping your throat that makes him groan.

His mouth goes down to your neck, planting wet kisses as you kick your shoes and pull his jacket off his shoulders, “Tell me if you want me to stop,” he murmured as his hands reached the back of your dress, unzipping it slowly.

“Don’t” you breathe out as he lets the dress slide out of your body.

Oscar steps back to stare at your undressed frame, “Oh Jjesus,” he says , you step toward him, reaching for the buttons of his shirt, finally undressing him, feeling his chest rise at your touch.

“Take me to the bedroom.”

He grips your tights, lifting you against him and walking to your bedroom without breaking the kiss, the weight of his body feels good as he presses your back beneath the mattress.

Oscar’s kiss escalates to something even more desperate, and you match the pace without even thinking. His hands slide down to your stomach, his fingers hooked into the waistband of your underwear, he pauses to look at you. “Can I?” you bite your bottom lip and nod in response. As he slides them off your legs, you unclasp your bra anxious to get them off.

Oscar licks his lips at the sight of your naked body, he doesn't break eye contact as he fumbles with his belt, sliding off his own pants, getting on his knees in between your legs, you get up on your elbows, admiring every inch of this toned body, his abs, his tights, and his cock perfectly traced in his underwear.

You knew he was beautiful, but now you're seeing his beauty with lust and hunger.

If it wasn’t for the anticipation, you could’ve looked at him for hours. Gosh. If it wasn’t for the anticipation you would take him and watch him enjoy as you mouth taste him. 

It was a mix of wanting to rush things and slow it down at the same time.

Your face must’ve shown the flicker of hunger because Oscar’s breath hitched, “You’re okay?” he caressed your thighs 

“More than okay” 

“You were starring” he cocks his eyebrows as his lips curve into a smirk, his body comes on top of you, this time leaving a space for your hands to reach his abdomen.

“Can you blame me?” You reply gently digging your nails into his skin, his stomach tensed under your touch, so you decided to go lower.

His throat makes a deep groan, he caught your wrist before you could fully touch him.

“Y/N.” Your name came out like he’s pleading. “If you touch me right now, this is going to end a lot faster than I want it to”

Hearing that made your heart flip, and your wetness clench. “Then show me what you want to,” you said softly, making him bite his lips

"You deserve that I take my time, but..."

"Osc...I need you, I want you."

He positions himself against you, giving you a deep and wet kiss, his fingers sliding to the center of you. It’s so unexpected that your back arches and a moan escapes your mouth.

His fingers slip over you, rubbing slowly, then inside of you, the sensation is so good you forget to even kiss him back, your lips part, and you let out a quiet moan,the in and out movements get deeper. Oscar keeps his lips resting against yours, his touch and pace are precise, slow, but perfect.

“You like that?,” he murmurs, almost as out of breath as you

A soft breathy hum is what you could give as a response. Your muscles are tensed already, you are yearning for more, just like a mind reader, Oscar moves his hands out and reaches for his pants on the floor, grabbing a condom out of one of his pockets.

You would’ve laughed if it wasn’t for the needy feeling that filled you. You watched him tear the wrapper open with his teeth, watched his hands, you could even peek the wetness in his finger, even THAT was hot.

Oscar smiles as he positions himself close to you again, he holds your face with one hand as the other grips his dick at your opening, he drops his weight on you and gently pushes inside you. He fills you completely, slowly, your back arches as you moan, clenching around his length.

Your legs instantly wrap around his waist, enabling and needing him deeper, both of you gasp, “Y/N” you could barely keep your eyes open to look at him, “This is too good…fuck”.

The muscles in his arm flex, he straightens himself on his knees, his arms go to the side of your head, you make eye contact for a second as Oscar stabs into you even deeper.

The room filled with sounds you'd never heard yourself make, or him…soft cries, his name falling from your lips, him cursing under his breath.

“You’re even more beautiful like this,” he murmured against your mouth. “I’ve imagined this so many times."

You weren’t able to answer, the pressure inside you was building again, stronger; it’s like both of you were holding your climax. The rhythm kept changing, he was having a hard time holding and making sure you're gonna come first.

Luckily, you were close, you're ready to come the moment he kissed you in the elevator.

“Osc,” you moan breathless, “I’m…”

“Yeah? I got you,” he said in between thrusts

Your body tenses up, your eyes shut tight and you start to see bright lights, you come moaning loudly as his hips pound deeper in your dripping cunt.

Ypu're still pulsating as Oscar gives his final grunts, his cock twitches inside you, losing compusure and releasing it.

His head falls to the crook of your neck, his breathing uneven and warm on your skin as his pace slows down. Your fingers run through his hair as he pulls out, the absence of him makes you feel empty.

A quiet laugh slips out of you, almost like you were in disbelief, your body was still buzzing and it feels that you just gained consciousness again. “Wow,” you murmur softly.

He’s laying on his back now, still catching his breath. “Yeah,hum, that was…”

He doesn’t finish the sentence. He just turns his head slightly to look at you, eyes a little wide, his forehead a bit sweaty and his cheeks tinted pink.

You brush your thumb along his cheek, both of you saying a lot with your eyes.

“You’re gonna need to stop looking at me like that” you say

“Why?” 

“Because I’m the one thinking about behaving now…”

The grin that spreads across his face is impossible to hide; his eyes flicker between yours and your lips. “Good,” he whispered. “I was hoping you’d say that.”

choose a file:

: ̗̀➛ lando norris.jpeg

deja vu (nsfw) - secret relationship

: ̗̀➛ oscar piastri.jpeg

slow rush (nsfw) - friends to lovers

: ̗̀➛ charles leclerc.jpeg

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: ̗̀➛ carlos sainz.jpeg

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: ̗̀➛ max verstappen.jpeg

truce (sfw) - russell!reader

give in (nfsw) - part two of truce

: ̗̀➛ george russell.jpeg

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: ̗̀➛ lewis hamilton.jpeg

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: ̗̀➛ pierre gasly.jpeg

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: ̗̀➛ esteban ocon.jpeg

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warning: +18. NSFW CONTENT. MINORS DNI. (there isn't a world where drew starkey wasn't already hot to start with.)

word count: 1.7K

author's notes: my take on brina's song! i had to ok??? it was right there!!! non proofread :s

masterlist

I haven’t been home in forever. College kept me busy, internships stole any possibility of actually enjoying summers, and the idea of bumping into people from my hometown never exactly thrilled me. 

After rearranging my schedule, I met with my friends, Sabrina, Maddie, and Lola, and all they talked about was this big party for the first night of summer. Even though all I wanted was a night in with the girls, I knew saying ‘no’ wasn’t an option.

“C’mon, it’s just one party, we cannot miss this,” they begged, dragging me toward the lake house already glowing with string lights and blasting music. “Everyone’s back. You’ll have fun.”

I rolled my eyes, fixing my makeup and rethinking all my life choices. Fun usually meant dodging awkward small talk with people I’d sworn I’d never speak to again.

I followed the girls into someone’s parents' house. The house was already packed; the heat was thick, and there was beer and drinks everywhere. People were in the pool, playing and dancing to the loud music that echoed in the backyard.

Sabrina goes into the encounter with the boys that we used to hang out with as soon as we arrive; they kept in touch way more than I did. She calls for me, Maddie, and Lola. We got closer, but all I was trying to see was where I could get a drink.

I was checking my surroundings as Sabrina poked my arm, grabbing my attention. “Y/N, do you remember Andrew?” 

My eyes landed on him, it took me a minute to realize.

The Andrew was Drew, Drew Starkey, the one who was hung up on me for years despite me friend-zoning him so hard. The sweet, helpful, and innocent good friend of mine, Drew.

Except now, holy fuck, there was nothing sweet and innocent in this man. What once was a sweet boy turned into a sexy man.

He was leaning against the railing, beer in hand, taller than I remembered, shoulders broad, the hair way shorter, and Lord help me, but I think I’ve never noticed someone's hands the way I just did.

When did he get so hot?

“Hey,” he said, voice deeper, rougher than I expected. “Didn’t think I’d see you back here,” he leans for a hug, and his perfume intoxicates every cell on my body.

I swallowed, forcing myself to play it cool even though my body was screaming holy shit, holy shit, holy shit. “Oh my God, hi...um,yeah, I’m just back for the summer. My friends kinda kidnapped me to this party.”

He chuckled, tilting his head. “Guess I should thank them, then.” I look around, they’re all hung up in their own conversation that they didn’t even notice the interaction.

Is he…flirting with me? I mean, he used to help me a lot but he never flirted like this. Am I being delusional?

I blinked, trying to recalibrate. “You look… different.”

“Different good, or different bad?” 

My mouth curved, betraying me. “Definitely good.”

He grinned, slow and knowing. “Funny. I was thinking the same thing about you, although you've always looked…hot,”

Yup, not delusional, definitely flirting. 

The music faded into the background, he turns over, reaching for another drink, allowing me to check him out properly. The size of his arms should be illegal. I wonder how it feels to touch.

“You know,” Drew said, voice low, bringing me back to reality, “we should catch up. Properly.”

“What do you have in mind?” I teased, raising a brow.

His smirk turned downright sinful. “We could…bail this party and go somewhere we used to, I don’t know.”

I bit my lip, and before I could respond, he leaned just a little closer, enough that his breath grazed my ear. “Or, we can hang out at my place, what do you say?”

My breath caught as he stared at me. I’m staring at his mouth and wondering how I didn't get the vision back then.

“Lead the way,” I murmured back, surprising even myself with how fast the words slipped out.

Drew’s grin widened, dangerous, satisfied. His hands reach my back. Nobody in the group noticed as he tugged me through the house, weaving through sweaty bodies and spilled drinks, out the back door, and toward the driveway.

Neither of us wasted time. I tossed my things on the floor, we threw his keys as soon as we entered his place, his lips crased onto mine, hands gripping my waist and pushing my back until my spine met the wall. His mouth was hungry and dominant, even though one of his hands was cupping my face with a soft touch; it was inevitable not to feel the desperation. 

“God,” he muttered against my mouth, “do you have any idea how long I’ve wanted this?”

I pulled at the hem of his shirt. “Show me.”

He yanked it over his head, and I took a greedy second to admire him—broad chest, lean muscle, that sharp V disappearing into his jeans. Oh God, he caught my look and smirked. 

He dipped his lips to my neck and chest, he tugged my shirt over my head, his hands roaming over my back, sliding down to my hips, and then under my skirt, unzipping it and throwing it away, leaving me only in my underwear.

“Fuck, you’re perfect,” he groaned, voice low and rough. His hand gripped my thigh, lifting it slightly as he leaned down, planting kisses on my waist. I let a breathy moan escape my lips, tilting my head back, my fingers threaded through his hair as he licks my pussy through the fabric of my panties.

He lifted to kiss me again, slipping his fingers inside me while his lips stayed on mine, as I couldn’t control any of the moans left my mouth.

“You like that, don’t you?” he murmured into my lips. All I was able to respond with was another moan. “You shouldn’t have underestimated me,” he says, drawing circles in my clit, fastening the pace. 

“Hm..I k-know…Can I make it up to you…or should you punish me?” I asked, smiling, breathing out

A quiet laugh escaped him. He lifted me, carrying me to the couch, pressing my back against the cushions. “You can make it up by being a good girl, baby.”

I obeyed as he knelt between my legs, sliding my panties off, planting kisses along every inch of me. His breath against my folds, the vibration of his laugh, made me arch instinctively.

“You’re so wet for me, baby,” he whispered before covering me entirely with his mouth, tongue, and lips, devouring me with intent, every lick, suck, and kiss driving me wild. His fingers slid into my entrance and penetrated me without any warning. I gasp as he keeps his movements all synchronized. 

I felt close, Drew must’ve sensed it because as my body kept running out of breath, he slowed down getting up. 

“What happened?” I asked breathlessly as I watched him unzip his pants and take off his underwear. I could look at him all day.

“Consider this your punishment, now ride me so we can come together.” He demanded.

I get on my elbows as he sits next to me with his legs spread, waiting for me to sit on his lap. It would be a sin not to suck him even a little bit. I get up enough to reach his cock with my mouth. His hand tangled in my hair, holding me close as I close my lips around the tip of him. He let a husk moan out.

“Even though I’m enjoying this a lot, that’s not what I told you to do, baby.” He grips my hair, taking me off him.

I get up, positioning myself on top of him, sinking slowly as I feel his cock fill all over me.

“Fuck, you’re so tight,” he hisses through gritted teeth.

“Oh God, you’re damn big, Drew,” I croak, wriggling around on top of him. I have no self-control or patience at this point. He grabs my hips, pumping into me. The friction feels sinful. I can feel him everywhere.

I use him as support as I slam down on him nonstop, his hands clamping against my ass, helping me slide up and down his cock. He powers upward, shoving himself even deeper. I’m on top, but he’s clearly in control.

“Fuuuck.” a feral look crosses his face. I keep bouncing and moving my hips as he helps push me downward with each thrust.

“I…Can I come?” I ask, being taken over by the feeling growing in me. I dig my nails into his shoulders.

“Yes, come for me, Y/N.”

Inside me, his cock pulses, one of his hands gives my breast a firm squeeze as the other strokes my clit, teasing until my legs start to feel weak, shaking so hard I can barely stay on top of him. I squeeze my thigh tightly around him as I come, Drew holds my waist with both hands and rises himself pounding into me hard. 

I’m still in my high as he groaned coming. Still pushing himself inside me, he’s shaky and out of breath. 

We collapsed together on the cushions, sweaty, hearts racing, breathing ragged. I pressed my face into his chest, feeling his warmth. I whispered, letting a lazy smile curl on my lips. “I think that makes up for the years of waiting, huh?”

He chuckled, nuzzling my hair. “Yeah… definitely worth the wait.

hiii, yes!!! I'm organizing all the links in the blog + adding some changes, but all my work is still available in my profile!