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the end of the red bull reign. now gimme that notebook.
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this one got a little sting to it
#...#enough#put the phone down#sebastian vettel#sebastian vettel x reader#seb vettel#sv5#f1#formula 1
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having a voice kink is not for the weak
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https://www.tumblr.com/multiversesweets/732770398975000576/no-it-would-be-carlos-luck-there-children-would-be
if you thought santi and sandri were bad ...
carlos' triplets would rain havoc on anyone and anything virtually possible. the only person safe from their wrath would be their maman, and their grandmother...
"mi querida niña, how has life in spain been treating you?" reyes asks you after pulling away from a hug, looking you up and down as if to asses wether you've been settling down well.
truth to be told, you looked radiant.
"the weather is so nice," you gush, with a dreamy sigh. it was just the right warmth without being too stickly. the perfect weather for sundress, as carlos puts it. and he's been unable to keep his hands off of you— even more than his usual rabbit habits.
there was a loud squeal behind you, one of the triplet skidding on the floors, soaking wet from running away from the pool.
"deja de correr, you'll hit your head!" carlos yells with some panic lacing his voice. he was in his swim trunks, and he was soaking the hard wood by chasing after his son who thought he was in a comedy, laughing at the expense of his father.
"i'm glad, you should take a trip down the ravine. they have just the sweetest—" reyes waves her hand with an excited cheer, regaling you with exciting places you could take a visit.
"niño, bajar de la mesa!" carlos sr. raises his arms as he tries to negotiate with the two naughty boys who climbed all the way in the middle of the table. one pushing the chandelier, the other faking a jump to agitate his grandfather.
"i would love to go. but i don't think i can leave the twins all alone." you lament.
"oh, they're already big enough. they're not much trouble nowadays!" reyes shrugs, "come on, amour. i'd book us a spa date."
just in time, carlos slithers in with a son on each arm— catching one just in time before he leaps and breaks his teeth; which will freak you out. and the other from breaking his head in; though carlos pretty much doubts anything could deter his youngest. he's sommersaulted head first, yet he surprisingly remain unscathed.
carlos senior walks in with another one of your sons sat on his shoulders, and he kisses reyes too. "hope you guys are having a good time. we know we have."
"you look gorgeous, hermosa." carlos kisses you, "te amo mucho." you feel your cheeks warm, and you utter a shy, almost a whisper i love you in kind.
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i wanna leave scratch marks on his tattoo...
NOOO WHO BEAT ME TO IT
first clip just smth else
LET ME LICK IT
The fact that you are the second person to send me this video 😭
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Do you think when Sebastian has ll that he knows she truly belongs to Jenson or does he throw it in his face, even though she probably sneaks off to Jenson at night sometimes
OKAY BUT WHAT ABOUT,,,,, also, this turned out more gray. tw: smut, kinda voyeurism!
it felt like some cruel joke to jenson. watching his hands all over you, his lips whispering some silly joke that has you laughing, and the fond and famliar look in your eyes were present when you gaze at sebastian lovingly.
he used to be on the receieving end of those. him. you used to tell him you loved him; and he used to promise you everything under the stars, with an oath against your very lips.
now he was rooted to the spot— he was made an unwilling audience to the sight of you and sebastian, in a sick ordeal penned by the man himself...
sebastian wasn't stupid. he didn't win anything in his life by sheer will alone. he made it to the pedestal by ruining his competitor's spirits and by being selfish. by separating the human being from the pilot. he stripped them of any human emotion and prioritized himself and his victory.
he wasn't averse to playing the same tricks in real life. he wanted you all to himself, and he will have you, in your entirety. sebastian will consume you to the very flesh until all you could think about was him, his love for you, his devotion to you.
there should be no other man in your heart.
and so he'd capitalized off jenson's lingering gaze: the neighbouring room was separated by a mirror, and while you couldn't see in the other side... the other room could perfectly see and hear what was happening inside.
jenson held up to expectations, eyes never leaving you even as sebastian takes you apart with his tongue, only to build you up again in the most sinful way possible.
jenson couldn't look away from you. you held him captive in a spell that has both anger and heat cursing through his veins; you were writhing under another man, his name falling off your tongue in a soft cry, hands fisting his hair in pleasure.
"there you go, hase." sebastian urges you, his tongue lapping up at your heat with a muffled groan, "so sweet. so ein gutes mädchen für mich."
"sebastian.." you breathe out, your legs trembling from pleasure, an almost pained sob pulls at your lips as he curls his fingers expertly, and you fully give.
jenson feels his mouth go dry, and he watches with some sick anticipation when sebastian rises to kiss you, fervently, wantonly as if he's never kissed you before and it— it makes him see red.
he grits his teeth angrily, slamming something he could grab on the way to the ensuite. that fucking bastard. he denies himself another look at you, feeling as if he'd burst. he was incredibly hard and pissed.
jenson vows to pay back this humiliation.
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#im not a nando girl but goddamn
😭 neither was I but look where that's gotten me
no cause fr i say lets talk about this too...
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meanwhile, in other news…
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Hate Miami all you want but you know that content, vibes, and edits are going to fucking slappppppp and I’m going to eating it up like crazy
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♪ — 𝗪𝗜𝗥𝗘𝗗 𝗜𝗡? - part two
max verstappen x reader (fluff)
“. . . when he wants to be normal, he can count on you, stranger.”
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“Come on, you can’t say he has so much potential!” Max miserably tried to hold in his laughs as you continued your rant about how much better Max would look if he put a little more effort or thought in how he dressed.
“I’m honestly starting to think he’s allergic to wearing anything . . . not Red Bull related. Like even in his streams! In his home!”
Sitting in front of his laptop with a makeshift setup in the hotel room in Japan, Max found himself unwinding from the earlier media day when he gladly accepted to join you for a game of Fifa. It wasn’t until someone brought up Lewis’ outfit from this morning did you start your little ted talk.
“La, please concentrate on the game, we’re losing!” he couldn’t stop laughing either so your team was toast either way.
“No, because I bet he's wearing his Red Bull shirt right now wherever he is.”
The reason why Max was no longer able to hold it together was because he was indeed in a Red Bull shirt. He might actually take you up on being allergic to anything not associated with Red Bull.
“I’ll gladly design a few outfits for him, I swear!”
“La-” Max put his face in his hands, shoulders shaking from laughter as his screen showed the opposing team scoring a goal. The dutch would usually feel frustrated if he were to be losing a Fifa game in any other situation, but not this one with you.
He's ready to lose and lose again, even give up his title as one of the world's top twenty Fifa players if he gets to spend time with you like this, laughing and joking; forgetting the world around, so it's just you and him.
Just two people . . . being people.
★ ☆ ━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━
“Since I have no one to show, you're stuck with me.”
It’s kind of been a routine now, having a private call after a game or upon finding spare time. You two have gotten close. You even considered “amilian” to be a close friend, per say. A close friend who you regularly vent to about work or just randomly ask riddles or dad jokes to bother.
You enjoyed his company. He was a fun person to be around. He made you feel . . . yellow in a type of way too. You never felt left out or unheard. He always had time for you, it's like you were maybe gravitating to being more than close friends . . . it's not like you can do anything about it though.
Surely people make close friends online all the time.
You stay up on your couch, scrolling through the settings of your laptop to show and rant despite having to get up in the morning. Max crossed his legs on his chair folding his arms and watching the screen as you messed around on your shared screen.
“La, it’s late.” He’s been trying to tell you for the past 10 minutes. It’s 6:30 in Japan, 7 hours ahead of the time in Paris, where you were.
Not that he’s keeping track of the time where you were, it’s just that you shared the same time zone as Monaco, and he only had the GMT+2 clock displayed on his home screen because he needed to keep track of his cats . . . not too make sure you got enough sleep or anything of that sort.
“It's only 11:30,” you shushed, pulling up pinterest. Max hung his head, trying to hold in his smile. “I could put together a whole outfit that would suit him right here and now,”
“La,” Max giggled watching you actually start to search and put things together. “I’ll make a deal with you, if you go to sleep, I'll try to get Max Verstappen in baggy jeans,”
“WHAT?!” the blond flinched at the loud noise, looking around his hotel room to make sure no one heard anything -- despite him being alone.
“You know I work in F1 right?” Max followed up, trying to hold in his smile at your silence. “La, you forgot?!”
“I’m sorry!” you pleaded, holding your hands in a begging motion despite him not seeing anything.
Max put his hand on his chest and pretended to be offended when he was smiling really wide to the point his cheeks hurt. “My best friend doesn't know what I do for a living,” he gushed in fake hurt.
Your mind blanked at the title. Best friend?
“You do know what my job is, right, La?”
“. . .” You looked away embarrassed, you’ve known the guy for how long and don’t even know what his profession is.
Max couldn’t stop his giggles. “Go to bed, La. I’ll get Max in baggy jeans for you.”
★ ☆ ━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━
“Hey um, million?”
“I thought I told you to go to bed?” Max chuckled, crouched in front of his suitcase, digging through it in hopes to find a pair of baggy jeans or a white shirt that he probably doesn't own.
“I am in bed technically . . .” The blond looked over to his laptop on his desk, the call still going. “You work in F1,” Max felt his heart jump in anxiety for a second, there's no way you figured him out.
“Yeah?”
“Well um . . . my boss chose me to go see how things were going with McLaren at the Monaco gp,”
The dutch perked up at your announcement. “Really? That's great!”
“Y-Yeah, it is,” you stuttered, agreeing. you crossed your arms, looking at the email congratulating you on your phone screen. “I mean, I'm glad, this is an experience of a lifetime. I get to drag along a few interns with me as well.” Max frowned, your tone did not match with the news you were announcing.
“What's wrong?” He got up, sitting on the desk chair, looking at your profile picture, the concern was clear in voice, as if you could feel him sitting beside you on your bed and gently rubbing your back to comfort you.
“Well, I don't have anyone to go with - the interns don't count . . . and I don't know anyone in Monaco or the attendees-- except you technically . . . I haven’t been on my own for that long before,” you sighed.
Max furrowed his eyebrows, trying to decipher what you were asking of him.
“Is it-” you cut yourself of with a sigh. “Can I hang out with you sometime? During the weekend?” Max stayed silent, feeling his heart pounding to the point he was scared the organ would explode out of his chest.
“I mean,” Max cleared his throat to hide the crack in his voice that arose from the anxiety he was drowning in. “I’m not traveling with the team every weekend, so I'm not sure if I'm going to be in Monaco . . . I’ll have to ask my boss.” he replied quietly and slowly, trying to comfort you still. “There’s still a few weeks before Monaco, so . . . I don’t know for sure.” He whispered, scratching the back of his head.
He was digging himself a grave. Asking Horner if he’s going to be in Monaco when he is the driver and already lives in Monaco? It’s too late now to be honest about who he is, he dug this hole himself and now he’s stuck in it.
It’s not like he can be like ‘oh, yeah of course you can hang out with me. Oh, I’m Max Verstappen by the way, the guy who’s driving the best car and winning all the races, so I can get you VIP tickets and a hot lap too if you want.’
“I’ll try my best to be there,” the blond whispered. You could almost feel him brushing your hair comfortingly. “We can get ice cream or go sightseeing. I know this really good cafe you’ll like . . .” Max will just have to keep digging his hole.
proof reading credits to the lovely and amazing @classiclitfreak <3
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charles: *going through the most tedious days of his f1 career*
the pants he's wearing:
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if i were a bee in seb's buzzin corner, expect a sequel to the bee movie
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reblog if you'd go on a roadtrip with your pfp
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