SOMETHING DEVOURED !!! JENSON B. X FEM!READER (18+)

KSNFIDHE YES!!

ANOTHER BEING THAT WRITES FOR TOTO!!

lowkey I'm so horny for him tho. he's such a dilf and he knows it!

lowkey i want him to just pick me up and bounce me on his cock like sjdkfbdi 🤤🤤🥵🥵

and him pulling my hair to suck on my neck like asdfghjkl

and what makes it better is that I'm so smol compared to him! I go up to his shoulder! (also could reader be wearing pants or shorts? I'm just a simple tomboy who doesn't like skirts and dresses also if ur cool with it short hair would be preferable but it's alright if u don't)

sorry this had been sitting in my inbox for soooo long babe but literally, he's a dilf <3333 // hopefully this is okay! 

You were surprising your husband, his home race was this weekend and tensions are on a high. He didn’t know you were coming down but you had set everything up with his assistant, making sure he didn’t find out. 

She left a key for you with the hotel lobby so you could go up and put your stuff away, shower and get ready before coming to the track. Now you were walking through the hallways until you found his office.

Toto Wolff - Team Principal - the silver sign on the door reads. You knock on the door and wait for him to answer before stepping in. 

He doesn't look up until he hears the door shut, he can’t help the smile on his face when he sees who it is. “Darling, what are you doing here?” His arms open for you as you walk over and sit yourself on his lap. 

“It's your home race, of course I’m gonna be here.” You smile as you sit down, kissing him. 

“Good, I missed you.” 

“You saw me yesterday morning.” 

“I know, that's too long.” He mumbles, his lips on your neck and he pushes you hair away from your neck. “You look pretty,” he smiles, lifting you off his lap onto his desk, your feet resting between his legs. 

You wore a pair of black shorts and one of his button ups you found in the wardrobe in the hotel. 

“Thank you, we match.” You smile and he nods. “But I think yours would look better on the floor,” he hums, fingers already working on unbuttoning the shirt you had on. 

“Stop it,” you giggled, “anyone could walk in.” 

“Honey please, no one is going to walk in.” He kisses you, leaving the shirt unbuttoned before he tugs your shorts off, leaving you in your panties. 

Toto pulls you back onto his lap, working on moving his own pants down so you can ride him. Once he gets them down enough, he pulls you to line yourself up with him, letting you sink down onto him. 

“Fuck,” you breathe, your head dropped to his shoulder. 

His hand resting on your lower back as you slowly bounce on his lap. His hands find your hips, moving you to his own pace, a lot faster than you were moving but you could take it. 

“Taking it like a good girl,” he whispers in your ear, moving your hair behind your shoulder to kiss your neck. 

“Hm, like that.” You mumbles, biting down on his shoulder just a little. “Yeah?” He quips, pulling you down a little rougher, “like that?” 

“Yeah,” you breathe, nodding. Your hand meets his face, kissing him roughly. 

Movie Night | Fernando Alonso

It was supposed to be an innocent movie night, it really was. Except you were completely and utterly turned on- not wanting to admit it because Fernando seemed so excited to watch this movie. You really wouldn't be in the desperate state you were if he hadn't come out of the shower, dripping wet and leaning on the door frame and all- you really were set up for failure.

So there you were, head on his shoulder, with his arm wrapped around you as you clenched and rubbed your thighs together to get some friction going. You could feel his calloused hands rub your shoulder occasionally and that was not helping at all- it was actually doing the exact opposite, it was making you so desperate and needy you felt like you could scream. Jus the feel of his hands against your skin burning desires into you. But he seemed so interested in the movie and just didn't seem as horny as you were, plus you felt bad since this was the first time in a while where you two managed to sit together and relax. Except for you though, you were definitely not relaxed.

You frankly had no idea what you were watching, you'd even manage to forget the name of the movie in the haze you were in. All you focused and cared about were his stupid grey sweatpants and how good his arms looked through his t-shirt and good he'd feel if he just fucked you into the couch right now-

"Is the movie not good?" He asked, face turned to yours, smirk tugging on his lips.

"No no, it's great." You chirped, lying as to cover up your thoughts. Even after all this time, he still made you all flustered.

"Hm, yeah you like it?" He asked, now completely turned to you, his face exhibiting a sort of cockiness you were far too familiar with; he had caught onto your lie and was going to make you admit to it.

"Yeah, it's nice, I'm glad we get to do this." You smiled nuzzling into him to distract him.

"Yeah, yeah." He replied, kissing your head and drawing circles on your arm before chuckling and continuing, "Except I've noticed something."

You shut your eyes in his chest, you knew where he was taking this conversation.

"You seem a bit, uh, distracted." Without seeing his face, you could tell he was smirking.

"Oh really? yeah sorry I must be uh, zoning out." Now you had to hold your ground, you weren't going to give up so easily.

"Hm yeah, is that why you were rubbing your thighs during a funeral scene?" He asked, almost unable to contain the laugh that vibrated through his chest. "Is there something you want to tell me? Cariño are you getting turned on at funeral scenes? Or is something else on your mind?"

The blood was rushing straight to your face. You were so distracted that you hadn't noticed that he'd not only see you rub your thighs, but he was fully aware of your lack of interest in the film.

"I don't know what you're talking about." You huffed, pretending to be offended.

"Hm, you don't?" He asked, pulling you away from him so he could see your face.

"Nope." You lied again, despite knowing that he was on your case. You couldn't even look him in the eye, nor could you look at any other part of him, his arms holding you felt so good, your thoughts were at the verge of wandering away again, despite your circumstances.

"You're not turned on?" He asked again, eyes crinkling on the sides from his smirk.

"Nope." You couldn't get any other word out, afraid that your lie would get caught.

He didn't reply this time, only pushing you further away till your back hit the couch, making your eyes widen in response. His silence made you nervous, his devilish smirk not aiding your cause. He brought his face close to yours, close enough where you could feel his breath on your lips. One of his hands propping him over you, while the other slid down your waist, pausing at the hem of your panties, stretching it and letting go abruptly, the noise clearly audible despite the movie in the background. Your yelp only made him chuckle.

"You know I don't like it when you lie y'know."

"But I'm not lying." You whined, trying to get yourself out of the trouble you'd be in momentarily.

"You're not? What if I put my hands in your little soaking panties to check, hm?" He asked, his hands already making their way to your very wet entrance. "Oh, would you look at that, my naughty little girl was lying."

You gulped, eyes fixated on his, chest heaving against his, anticipating his every move. You knew how hot he'd get when he'd punish you, and you knew that despite your futile efforts, that movie had been long forgotten between you two.

-

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A/N: I don't talk about my second favourite Spaniard enough, god he's so hot I need him like I need air.

Anyways, hope you enjoyed the blurb. As usual, send in requests or criticism, love u all<3

Won’t You?

Summary: On the way to a formal event, Toto finds himself a little preoccupied. 

Word Count: 1.8k

Warnings: Vaguely Dubious Consent, Choking, Oral (male receiving) 

Author’s Notes: I might still have the touch y’all. Theres a chance, a sliver of hope. This is foul of me, honestly, but what’s a girl to do but be horny on main? The rest can be found here.

Keep reading

! Merry (late) Christmas !

Your secret santa XoXo - Kimi Raikonnen x Reader

summary: Y/n is Kimi's favorite santa.

warnings: age gap, romance, too cute🫶, Not retired Kimi!! rawdogging(not proofread)

author's 🗒️'s: i haven't had much time for writing so i did a bit of a cutesy christmas fic for the part 2 hope its good w u guyss <33 enjoy loves!!

( Seb nd Kimi arent retired, reader is at AM with Lance!!)

part 1, part 2, ...

______

It's Christmas. Secret santa with the grid and snow. Well not snow because all of us are still in Abu Dhabi. Knowing glances exchanged after the secret santa pulling. If i remember correctly i was pulled by i think Lance. Im not sure if it really was Lance, but the canadian is a pleasure to know and is just perfect at gifts.

I pulled Kimi, the legend, and my best friend. Maybe my best friend. Knowing how he and Seb are. Obviously it's not only platonic feelings with the way he acts around me.

Thinking about presents for Kimi is rather hard, seeing he doesn't really have a thing he likes but doesn't have. I'd say alcohol but do i wanna heed into his alcoholism? A bit, but only if it means i get a gift for him.

-

The tea in front of me was cold, but the weather kept me warm. Sebastian sat opposite of me, asking for advice on what he should get for Oscar.

"What about i buy him, his gift and you buy Kimi's for me." I suggest a deal thinking of all the things i could give Oscar.

"Don't know what to buy your little boyfriend, eh Y/n?" Teasing smirk pulling on his mouth, the german dared me for an answer.

Eyes rolling into the depths of the back of my head, showing clear annoyance yet he still kept talking.

"Maybe you could finally confess to him, he's all over you whenever you're near him anyway" Sassy tone pulling out his german accent, the sentence making my jaw drop lower with every word. Catching my jaw, i shook my head. Trying to act unbothered, sipping from the lemon tea in my hand.

"Are you really this bored, that you're invested in your two best friend's love life ? Old man." I look away as i hear Kimi's voice in the distance. My head turned to see him talking to Mark Webber, possibly an interview with all those cameras around. The signature straight smile from Kimi appeared. Uncomfortable aura around him.

I nodded back to Seb only to see him already looking at me. 'What?' I silently asked him, only getting a knowing look back.

"Let's just buy those gifts before i regret even sitting here."

-

Giddy feeling in my stomach affecting my hold on the wrapped object. Looking at the usual secret santa interviewer making small talk, handing over the gift.

The wrapping contained a letter and an object Seb helped me pick. I feel kind of weird, specifically the fact that i don't know if he will like it is weird.

After half an hour, the interviewer approached me again, cameramen following close by. Small talk exchanged as she got ready for the video.

"Okay! One, two, and three, it's on!" A smiley voice came from her notifying me.

I was handed a gift box and the santa hat. Placing the hat on my head i examined the box, wrapped in pink wrapping paper which had hearts written all over it. All i gathered is that it must be one of my friends. I brought it up to my ears to shake and maybe smell.

The shaking part was unsuccessful since the box made nearly no noise, however the smell was gentle yet slightly familiar. Kimi's cologne. Versace eros eau de toilette. The one you recommended to him, because you liked it. Mint and lemon are dominant over the smell of paper.

"That's Kimi." I looked up knowingly, smiling a bit.

"Smells like him. Unless it's Seb and he's again interested in my business." Rolling my eyes, earning a snicker from the woman handling the microphone.

I start opening the paper gently, since i wanna save the heart on it. As soon as i take the top off, i see what i got. Caramel chocolate and snacks from my home country, paired with a bottle of jägermeister. Underneath these items there's a hoodie, unfolding it i see the embroidery on it.

'No. 7'

Holding it close to my nose, i smell it. Versace.

___

author's 🗒️'s: I kind of left it on a cliffhanger but im traveling 4 hours tomorrow im gonna do the end tomorrowww :PPPPP anyways cuties i hope my writing isnt a disaster im so sleepy rn its an actual nightmare...

taglist: @i-wish-this-was-me , @keii134 , @littlesatanicassholebitch <3

𝐏𝐀𝐃𝐃𝐋𝐄 𝐓𝐎 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐌𝐄𝐓𝐀𝐋 – 𝐒𝐕𝟓

-> summary: losing a game of lance vs stroll unlocks the competitive and kinky side to sebastian that he had kept down since his rbr days.

-> pairing: sebastian vettel x reader

-> word count: 4.2k

-> warnings: 18+ mdni. extremely competitive seb. long introduction, i’m sorrryyyy. spanking, fingering. perhaps a bit out of character but i tried my best.

sv5 masterlist ୨୧ main masterlist ୨୧ join taglist ୨୧ ask

Lance VS Seb had become a bigger pain in the arse than you ever expected it to be. And you expected quite a lot.

Sebastian Vettel was known for many things. Being a kind person, an activist, a stand-in parent for many of the drivers on the grid who were not fortunate enough for their own fathers to be present. But only one or two drivers remained that remembered Sebastian for his strongest personality trait when he was younger.

His innate desire to win. At whatever the cost.

Having driven Mark Webber to borderline insanity and arguably forced retirement during his blonde, sun-kissed RBR career, Sebastian continued his tirade against anyone who had stood in his way. From Fernando Alonso to his best friend Lewis Hamilton, not one of them escaped the wrath of the German racing machine.

Though the gods appeared to no longer smile on Sebastian the same way they once did, that desire remained in everything he did even after Ferrari had shattered his soul. He put his all into everything, from the F1 season to two days a year at ROC and Grill The Grid, there wasn’t anything he didn’t want to come out on top in.

And that included Lance VS Seb.

The ridiculous way his eyes lit up when you had informed Sebastian that the latest round of silly tasks would be Table Tennis really should have given the heads up that the 34-year-old would act like a total menace. With a singular sentence, he was glowing with the youth of a newly crowned four-time world champion once more.

“I am very good at Table Tennis, you know?” He muses as you walk through the Aston Martin hospitality at the Jeddah track, to the room in which the team was filming for the YouTube channel.

“I am sure, Sebastian.” You answer simply, perhaps a little too sweetly for his taste. You hear him chuckle, and turn your face to see him shake his head in response, that cheeky grin pulling on the corners of his lips. The kind that made his eyes crinkle and made you nervous.

“You don’t believe me. I will prove it to you,” he insists, raising his crooked index finger to the air like he had on so many podiums in his youth. Of course, that championship-winning mindset would never go away.

It was your turn to laugh at that, rolling your eyes playfully. It was charming, seeing him so invested each time in proving to you he had the ability to come out on top in every single one of the little trials.

“It’s not me you have to prove yourself to, it’s the fans,” you point out, acting like a true media representative as you opened the door to the small room in which the table had been set up, paddles resting on the surface. It was just the two of you so far, joined only by the preset cameras on tripods for filming.

“I would much rather prove it to you,” he smirks, “besides, it’s much easier to win when you have an attractive woman cheering for you.” And so it begins, the incessant teasing and flirting that had been happening for many weeks now, and despite your better judgment, you couldn’t tell him to stop.

It had started off slow, at first. Winks when he passed you in the corridor, and cheeky, ambiguous comments that bordered on innuendos. No one ever thought anything of it, knowing Seb to be jokingly flirtatious.

But you weren’t sure he was joking anymore.

“Is that why you were so upset that the grid girls left?” You countered. Goodness he had never stopped complaining. You remembered him, in that Ferrari Red racing suit, complaining like a child that the grid girls had been removed as a regular occurrence from the race day activities.

“Of course, don’t you always feel as though you perform better with an attractive person?” His lips quirked up as he spoke, the innuendo not lost on you.

“Sebastian,” you sigh, exasperated as you look at him with a pointed look. “Please behave while we film this challenge.” He simply raises his hands in mock defeat as Lance Stroll wanders into the room, flanked by the cameramen for the Aston Martin YouTube Channel.

There were the usual formalities, saying hello to the cameramen and giving Lance a hug to the tune of Sebastian asking why you never embraced him like that. Of course, you had answered with ‘because Lance isn’t even remotely as infuriating as you.’

Finally, as Sebastian batted across the table in practice, the cameramen informed the two drivers that they would begin filming soon. In the overall standings of Lance VS Seb, Sebastian was leading by a comfortable 7 - 3. Regardless, you knew that he would be desperate to win Table Tennis most of all, the competitive gleam in his eyes even more prevalent on camera.

When they began filming, Sebastian tossed the ball in the air, catching it again and informing the audience at home of the terms and conditions of the challenge. There’s a back and forth between both drivers, playful teasing.

“This time we chose the challenge ourselves, and we chose to play table tennis,” Sebastian smiled brightly, to which Lance scoffed, shaking his head.

“We? You pretty much insisted, Sebastian!” The younger driver pointed out, causing you to laugh. Sebastian shook his head, pointing the paddle at him. “No no this is equally your decision, Lance!”

After a few minutes of bickering, which you agreed with the cameramen would be cut for the sake of both drivers' integrity, they finally began the challenge with the utmost seriousness. Lowering his center of gravity by bending his knees, Sebastian gazed down the table with the intensity of a racing driver waiting for the lights to go out. Though you’d never admit it, that potent stare you mostly saw behind a helmet before the races always made your cunt flutter.

Taking a deep breath, he throws the ball and taps it across the table with ease. The instantly recognizable ‘tunk tunk' of the ball’s impact with the paddles and table sounded throughout the room. Lance, relatively unbothered by Sebastian’s cut-throat style, stayed practically straight-backed as he lazily batted back.

The first round went to Sebastian, the ball from Lance’s paddle missing the edge of the table and falling in an arch onto the floor. A grin splits across the Germans face, indicating he was pleased with gaining the first point of the game.

Though, the excitement was short-lived. Sebastian only managed to parry the ball back once in the second round before he overshot the table entirely, shouting out a shocked ‘oh!’.

“One all,” the cameraman announced. You giggle as Sebastian glanced over at you with a determination you hadn’t seen in him in a long time. He was insistent upon triumph, simply to prove you wrong.

A few rounds in, and as expected from the two of them, both drivers began to complain that it was hard to see the white ball against the equally white table in an attempt to maintain a level of pride. At this point, both were on an even playing field with a 2 - 2 score, and it was at this point Lance decided he was going to begin taking the challenge seriously.

“Okay, I’m going for the winner,” he declared, finally lowering his center of gravity and Sebastian widened his stance as he served the ball. Back and forth, both drivers batted until Lance’s shot missed the edge of the table entirely.

“Perhaps Sebastian could actually win this,” you muse, leaning back in your seat as the driver shot you a playful glare.

“Watch me,” he insisted, beginning his next serve. The next few rounds were a whitewash, Sebastian seemingly proving himself as he gained point after point against Lance. That natural instinct to dominate, the remnants of his Redbull years taking control of the match.

The purple patch was limited. Eventually, Lance started coming back. One point after the other, he slowly crawled himself to another equal footing with his new determination not to be entirely schooled on camera, much to Sebastian’s dismay and your absolute delight.

“Nein!” Sebastian yells, frustrated at himself for allowing Lance to recover from the significant lead that he lagged behind. The accent you had grown to love and find particularly attractive was strong even in that singular word, his *frustration* emphasizing the Germanic lilt. Passing the ball back to Lance to serve, he throws it at his feet with an ‘oops!’

“You know it’s getting serious when Sebastian starts speaking German,” you wink to Lance, listening to him laugh before turning back to Sebastian. “You shouldn’t be taking your frustration on Lance because you are inept at playing Table Tennis.”

For the first time, Sebastian looks mildly irked by your comment, a witty retort of his own falling from his lips. “Perhaps you shouldn’t be distracting me at such a critical time. I think you’ll find you will end up a sore loser.”

You can’t help but giggle. What was Sebastian going to do? Pester you with F1 facts until you drop dead? Everyone knew the man was a ray of sunshine and didn’t have a bad bone in his body. Even when frustrated over drivers interrupting his qualifying laps, Sebastian would drop his anger at the drop of a hat in order to keep the peace.

But Sebastian is entirely serious about these last few rounds, his knuckles white as he practically strangles the handle of the paddle with his grip. He knocks the ball back with stronger strokes, trying to outflank and outmaneuver Lance. Instead, his desire to win worked against him, leading the opposing driver to end up with a match point.

“Ready, Seb?” Lance spreads his stance, covering as much space across the table as he could to defend his point. Sebastian on the other hand, prepared to attack, ready to slam the ball across the table and take the point back.

This round goes longer than the rest, with quite a few passes between the two of them as you watch on the edge of your seat. Sebastian’s tongue peeks from his mouth, the tip resting against his upper lip as he focuses entirely-

“Go Lance!” You call, throwing Seb completely in his shock at your betrayal. The distraction is exactly what Lance needs to finish it, bouncing the ball off Sebastian’s side of the table and taking the match point. He leaps in the air, cheering as you clap for him with a laugh.

Perhaps you shouldn’t have made such a significant deal about Lance’s victory. Sebastian was quieter than you had ever seen him, fingers brushing over the flat of the paddle as Lance continued his victory lap around the table.

When those ice-blue eyes meet yours, you freeze to your spot on the sofa. There’s a hunger there, a form of frustration you’ve never seen in him. For years, you watched Sebastian try and fail to obtain a WDC with Ferrari, witnessed him grapple with a car he knew would never give him the title he felt he deserved. Looked in those same eyes and felt his disappointment.

This was different. There’s no cold indignation. It’s a playful fire, spurred on by your disloyalty.

All the while the team rounds out the end of the video with the simple sponsorship breakdown from Lance, Sebastian gazes at you with that same expression. It sets a blaze inside you, one that settles between your thighs and creeps up the base of your spine.

It was entirely unlike him. And you loved it.

Packing up their things, the cameramen inform you they will send you the edited clip by the end of the day for approval, and you wave them out of the door despite the rising heat on your face.

“Good game, man.” Lance shakes hands with Sebastian, who shows him that same warm smile that usually graced his face. Had you not been the recipient of that fervent stare, you never would have guessed anything was off with him. Neither did Lance. “See you at practice,” Sebastian shows him out of the room, shutting the door behind Lance’s back.

There’s a flirtatiously unsettling silence that fills the room upon your isolation with the scorned driver. Sebastian looks over his shoulder at you, paddle in hand. Your breath catches in your throat, ears burning as his eyes drag over you.

“Your teasing lost me my game,” he points out, matter-of-fact as he slowly walks across the room with a casual nature that doesn’t match his eyes. You bite on your lip, and excited panic rises in your chest.

“I’m sorry.” It barely comes out louder than a whisper, Sebastian’s smirk knocking the oxygen completely from your lungs. It’s not as though he was a particularly domineering person. No, it was more that you could tell he was plotting something with the way his eyes crinkled in the corners when he grinned.

“Stand up,” he murmurs, voice low but direct. Despite your better judgment, you find yourself stumbling to your feet without argument. It won’t save you though.

Walking behind you, Sebastian continues his reprimanding. “You couldn’t help but dig in that knife, hmm? It made me lose. What am I to do about that?” The cheeky lilt to his voice indicates he’s not actually angry. But God, you feel so turned on at the concept of him telling you off.

You hear it before you feel it. The ‘thwack’ of the paddle in his hand striking the flesh of your ass. Your body jolts in shock, the gasp that forces its way from your throat echoing in the room. Snapping your head over your shoulder to look at him as the sting works its way into your skin in prickling swirls, you note the way Sebastian’s eyes drag over your ass before catching your own.

Nothing is said, he just watches. You realize he’s testing the waters, seeing if you’ll stop him before continuing any further with this fantasy. You don’t bother to halt his advances. You couldn’t if you wanted to, body screaming for him to continue with whatever he had planned.

Without resistance, a quiet groan indicates he intends to do just that. His long, lithe fingers wrap around your wrists behind your back, gently locking them in place as he leads you over to the Table Tennis top.

“Do you remember the German I taught you?” He murmurs as your hips knock the edge of the countertop. How could you forget the times you’d sat up late at night with him on the balcony, trying not to fucking jump his bones and instead letting him coach you through playfully strict German lessons? You nod, not trusting yourself to speak for fear of the sound being obscene.

“Good. You will count.” Your heart lurches in your chest as it meets the flat surface of the Table Tennis top, Sebastian’s freehand with the paddle having gently pushed your back into position.

Pressure between your shoulder blades indicated that Sebastian’s palm was keeping your chest down against the table. You turn your head, cheekbone pressed against the cool surface as you let out a shaky breath, waiting impatiently for him to spank you.

But he doesn’t launch into it. No, he rests the flat of the paddle against your hip, noting the way you flinch at the contact. Drawing circles over your ass, he makes you relax into the table, watching as the tautness in your muscles bled away at the soothing sensation.

“It will be 5.” He informs you, watching as you nod your head slowly in recognition of his instructions.

It happens so quickly, the lack of contact from the paddle, the whistling sound of it arching through the air, and the sudden, loud ‘smack’ that echoed through the room. Despite the way your body jolts immediately upon impact, you don’t feel the pain until seconds later. The prickling, stinging sensation that floods down the back of your thighs.

“Ah- Eins,” you gasp out weakly, mind swimming as you pull at every single brain cell you had to remember the translation. There is a hum of approval from behind you, Sebastian indicating you had gotten it right. Immediately his hand soothes the tingling skin.

“Good,” he instructs you, before hooking his thumbs into the waistband of your pants and slowly pulling them down, exposing the bare skin of your ass. “Again.”

You flush, realizing that Sebastian has your arse out on full display, lace thong-panties not providing much coverage as he lines up the paddle against the exposed surface of your skin. You nod quickly, equally as turned on as you were nervous.

It hurts more this time, with no fabric there to serve as a buffer. The rubber of the paddle connects with your supple flesh in a sharp smack that sounds so much louder this time. Once again your muscles are tight, and this time a subtle warmth settles between your thighs.

“Z-Zwei,” it comes to you naturally this time, falling from your lips in a soft whisper. You feel Sebastian’s fingertips rub soothing circles into the inflicted skin once more, but doesn’t take his time with it this time, striking you suddenly with another flick of his wrist.

“Ah!” Heat sparks over the flesh of your ass, surely welting by now at his ministrations. “Drei!” You can hear Sebastian behind you, unable to see him from this angle. His breathing is labored, hard enough for it to be audible.

He’s watching the way the muscles in your thighs twitch against the pain, noting the way you were enjoying your punishment if the wet patch of fabric in the crotch of your panties was anything to go by. He’d never seen anything so sexy.

This time, you feel him switch cheeks, paddle on the other side of your hips in a slight tap to inform you of the change. “Your skin is so hot. It’s gone pink,” you hear him murmur, slight wonder in his voice.

You open your mouth to answer him but are cut off by another sharp strike. Sebastian watches as your flesh jiggles upon impact, swallowing a groan as you whimper a quiet “Vier.” That one settled deep in your cunt, sparking arousal.

“Gutes Mädchen,” he murmurs, the words not computing in your brain as he brushes comforting circles into your skin once more. “Last one. Make sure I can hear you.” You nod dumbly, eyes closed tight.

He watches as you rub your thighs together, desperate to ease the impending tension in your abdomen. Fuck, he loved it. The way you squirmed, twitched for him as you anticipated the final impact.

This is the loudest yet, the echo bouncing off the walls as you let out a weak cry. Your eyes are welling up with tears, clit throbbing as you fumble your final number. “Fffuh- Fünf!” It was you who was panting now, toes curling.

“So good,” Sebastian murmurs softly, knuckles brushing down the curve of your ass and working them between your thighs before settling his fingertips on your clit. Your legs immediately go boneless, a pathetic sob escaping your lungs as he circles the sensitive bundle of nerves.

“You remembered your lessons so well,” he praises, and you could genuinely break down in tears. Sebastian had never given you any indication he could act this way, the soft, kindhearted man who handed out beers after race days and cleared up litter that the fans left held a fiery side from his youth that genuinely had taken you and your cunt by surprise.

You loved it.

“Come here,” he whispers, taking you by the waist to help you stand up straight again, minding the way you wince as your skin smarts. He hooks his hands above the underside of your knees, gently lifting you up onto the table. His eyes gaze into yours, a hunger there that makes your stomachs do somersaults like an F1 car hurtling towards the barriers at high speed.

You lay back, noting the way the net stretched across the table bends under the pressure of the crown of your head. You close your eyes, nervous as your panties are peeled from your soaking thighs.

“Look at you, Scheiße,” he whispers, fingertips running through the slick that coats the inside of your thighs. It’s obscene, watching as Sebastian gazes down at your cunt. You expect to feel his fingertips find your clit once again, but instead, it’s something much thicker, colder.

It takes you a second to realize that it is the handle of the table tennis paddle that he’s sweeping through your folds, jaw slack as he watches your arousal collect on the laminated wood.

It brushes your clit, causing your cunt to throb with need. You’ve never wanted to be filled so badly, thighs fidgeting in a wordless attempt to get him to fucking do something. There’s a gleam in his eyes in response, and a mixture of concern and arousal swirls in your stomach as his secret master plan.

Without warning, he slips his index and middle fingers into your slick, right cunt. Your back arches against the table with a pathetic whine, the stretch exactly what you needed. You were so responsive to his touch, Sebastian’s dick throbbing in his pants at the way your eyes rolled back.

“Do you like that?” He whispers, his voice low as you clench around his fingers. They pump in and out of you slowly as you nod, dumb from the increasing pleasure that radiates from your core.

“So good for me now,” Sebastian muses, playful in his observation as he watches your pussy slick up his digits. Long, deep strokes have your thighs shaking within moments, needy whimpers stuck in your throat.

Pleasure mounts between your thighs, Sebastian twisting his wrist so his palm and fingertips face the floor, finding a spot inside you that sets your nerves alight. Your attempt to moan his name comes out in a garbled mess, and your hands desperately grab at his wrists in a feeble attempt to ease the onslaught of mind-blowing pleasure that flows through you.

It’s so good, too good, too much, and not enough at the same time. The noises you’re making are obscene, and Sebastian smirks at the way he’s reduced you to a shaking, sobbing wreck.

“Spread your legs wider,” he orders, his gruff voice laced with a much stronger accent than you usually heard from him. It has your cunt fluttering around him, tight around the ring finger that he attempts to ease inside you.

You do as he asks despite the haze that clouds your mind and vision. That white-hot feeling glows around your body, muscles pulled up so tight and tense you’re afraid your hamstring could snap with the simple action.

A sloppy, wet sound punctuates each thrust of his fingers, followed by a low groan of his own. “That’s it, Schatzi.” He breathes, fingers keeping that brutal pace. “I can feel you’re close.” You garble his name, the last syllable pitching up in a squeak.

It’s too much, vocalizing nonsense as it builds up so high you can barely breathe. You’ve stamen too much air into your lungs and yet you feel like you need more, the tension reaching a peak and threatening to snap-

Sebastian grabs the paddle once more, slapping the flat of the bat between your thighs and connecting with your clit. It cracks through you like a whip, hot and melting and vicious- then nothingness. Suspended. A few seconds pass, holding you hostage in your own body until it plummets, roiling waves of intense ecstasy that borders on being painful, your cunt clenching around his fingers.

You’re squealing, sobbing, tears falling from your eyes and dampening your hairline as you thrash against the sensation, head rocking from side to side as you slur his name. It’s so intense-

Sebastian works you through it, hushing you softly as he helps you ride the overwhelmingly acute sensation. Is there with you for every moment until it’s too much, pushing away his fingers as overstimulation hits you like a tonne of bricks.

Your chest heaves as you suck in air, eyes closed. Sebastian is on you in seconds, smoothing your hair back from your face and pressing kisses to your forehead and cheekbones, and nose. It’s hard not to laugh weakly, exhausted but relieved to be in his care. To have him to hold you.

“I- I didn’t expect that from you,” you whisper through your intakes of breath. You hear him chuckle, pressing another kiss to your temple that was wet with tears.

“I didn’t expect it from myself,” he admitted quietly. “Perhaps there is still a spark of the young world champion in there somewhere.” He muses.

A pause.

“He never left,” you smile weakly, entirely exhausted and thoroughly fucked out. “I could tell you that just from seeing you compete with Lance over a game of fucking table tennis!”

To that, he laughs, eyes crinkling in the corners. “Oh, no. I just can’t have someone younger than me beating me. How would that look?”

“You’re a sore loser,” you grumble, watching him release you in order to kneel at your feet.

Turns out you were the sore loser, the red marks printed against your ass smarting under your touch as Sebastian replaced your panties with a wink.

END

Tag list: @welld0nebaku @oneafterdark @yeolsbubbles @byunniebaekhyunnie

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.... 😩😩😩

throat training thoughts tonight. ♡︎ fictional man forcing his fat cock down your throat until your little nose is in his pubes and he’s taking up every single one of your senses.

Its half past 4 am and i need to go to bed too but I’ll squeeze out a final brainrot for us to sleep to

A driver on the way to winning wdc, a ROOKIE no less and after actually winning you get absolutely HATE fucked by max. Thats all i really want in life. Imagine the sexual tension all throughout the season mixed with immense hatred and hes just kidnapping you back to the hotel and letting out all the anger and frustration towards you that build up over the year until you’re completely fucked out and unable to walk for the week. Im talking CRYING from overstimulation here.

That championship may not be his but that pussy sure is now.

🫀

oh my goood. i want her to he a redbull driver bc imagine the drama of them getting a fourth driver’s title in a row like seb did but it’s a rookie instead of max?? the drama. sorry i rambled for like an hr. oopsies i meant to be quick.

can so imagine she’s not expecting to win any races on her debut season but wins on debut and everyone is shocked when she overtakes max and the team allows it, knows they’ll still get the one two finish plus they’ll get the amazing publicity of another first time redbull driver winning on debut, making history as the first female driver winning on debut.

max is furious about it. they're not given team orders which makes it so much worse, she genuinely overtakes him and they warned him she'd be making a move on him but he didn't expect her to successfully pass him or to maintain the lead and fend him off for the rest of the race. he’s not a baby who would demand team orders in his favor, especially when he knows they wouldn’t listen because they want her to win. he’s angry they want her to win. he’s angry he wants her to win and make history like he did. he hates that he was so enthusiastic about having a rookie as a teammate, thinking he’d get to show someone the ropes and all that. but she’s beating him on debut?

it gets better with the next race because he wins and she comes in third, and he feels like everything is falling into place again. until the next race when she gets pole and wins from it, leading every lap with him stuck in third behind charles, a switch-up on the previous weeks podium lineup. it continues like that with them nearly taking each other out a few times fighting for the lead, but somehow they don’t crash out throughout the season.

i can so see them taunting each other behind closed doors, where media won't catch it. also them getting drunk and flirty and pretending it didn't happen the next day. and i can see her being happy no matter what because she's doing so well on her debut season but max is only happy and nice when he wins a race and is leading the championship, so on the nights he wins, they somehow end up together in the back of the vip area of some club, both internally debating if fucking your teammates a good idea.

she wins by a handful of points, only three, and when she’s on the first place podium she shoves that number in his face as she sprays her champagne down on him. he wants to bend her over the podium and make her swallow down his cock instead of the champagne she gulps down. he pushes the thought from his mind when she’s wiping it from her jaw as it drips down her neck and soaks her suit more than charles’s spray already had.

he doesn’t even plan on acting on his pent up fantasies until he bumps into her and charles on his way out and she has the audacity to congratulate him on second in the championship, as if he wasn’t less than half a second away from behind first. as if she wasn’t first. he’s grabbing her wrist and pulling her away from charles, ignoring her questions of where they’re going. she only asks twice before she falls into step next to him, her footsteps faster than his to keep up with his longer stride. she’s got her trophy, the first place race trophy in her hands and he wants to smash it thinking about how he’s going to have to give her his driver’s championship trophy. how they’re going to engrave her name and break the streak of max verstappen signatures crawling up the trophy.

she realizes what’s happening when they get in the car and he puts his hand on her knee once they’re driving then asks if it’s okay and she’s like, “are you asking if it’s okay to touch me or to kidnap me?” and he insists he’s not kidnapping her and she recounts how he grabbed her, led her to his car, opened the passenger door and pushed her inside. he blushes and apologizes, his hand still on her knee and she tells him it’s okay. they get to the hotel and she follows him to his room and neither of them speak until they’re inside and he’d tell her to say red if he needs to stop, and she asks why he would need to stop and he’s like, “well i don’t plan on stopping until you tell me to. so say red when you need me to stop.”

once she agrees he’s kissing her like she’s never been kissed and pushing her against the wall, his hand squeezing her throat and his knee pushing between her thighs. he holds her there until she’s turning away from the kiss for air, and then he steps back and tells her to strip and get on the bed. she’d stare at him for a moment and he grabs her and pushes her towards the bed and snaps at her to get on it. she strips to her underwear and starts getting on the bed and he’d tell her he didn’t say to leave them on and she turns back to him, fully dressed, and tells him to undress too. he tells her he doesn’t need to yet, and she doesn’t get why until she’s almost screaming from her third orgasm back to back. two from his fingers and one from his mouth, and he's still going. hands curled around her thighs to hold her in place.

she's crying and begging him to fuck her, and he's moaning into her pussy that she tastes so good he doesn't want to stop tasting her yet. she loses count on how many orgasm she's had before he's done eating her out, she can't tap out before they've even fucked, but she's so sensitive his tongue lapping on her clit hurts.

when he finally gives in and lines up with her entrance the stretch of his cock in her sensitive cunt nearly makes her black out. he barely lets her adjust before he's fucking her like he won tonight, telling her she looks so pretty when she cries and how good she feels around him. asking her who's making her feel this good and stopping until she begs him to keep going and answers his question. he'd tease her between kisses and hickeys he leaves on her now that she's too fucked out to object, hopes they won't be able to find makeup good enough to cover the bruises he leaves on her throat.

he keeps pulling back from kisses and spitting on his dick fucking in and out of her, saying things she can't understand in dutch, or maybe it's english and she's too fucked out to make sense of his rambling. he'd grasp her jaw when she opens it in a loud moan and hold it open before spitting in it. he'd taunt her with all the passive aggressive remarks she made during the season and when she just moans in response he’d make fun of her for being too fucked out to respond.

and then they don’t see each other over break except for work stuff and nothing happens, she gets her trophy and the exchange goes normally. and then she wins the first race of the season and she gets a repeat of the last race of the last season. after that no matter who finishes the end up in bed together, if she wins he’s angry and takes his frustration out on her, but if he wins they just go at it like rabbits and right for dominance, he’s more playful and less commanding. he’d let her suck his cock for an hour while he tells her how good she’s making him feel, telling her that this is what he deserves; a race win and a cock drunk whore on her knees choking on his cock.

hi!! It’s jenson anon again but something just struck. DBF!kimi???? Hello, like he always acts cold most of the time but when you guys get your time alone as he is told to baby sit you when your parents are on a business trip, all hell breaks lose and your opinion on him completely changes, he’s a new person, literally!!! Like that man has hold himself back for long enough and he’s done.

-jenson anon ❤️

okay this is so !! -- combined it with a similar ask:  kimi with a younger reader who's got the biggest crush on him!!🥹😩 and he secretly has a soft spot for her too❤️

hope that's okay! - reader is over 18!

your dad was good friends with kimi, he comes over for dinner when he’s in town, he brings you a gift now and then or usually just slips you some cash when he’s leaving.

you've always just known him as kimi, it wasn't until you were much older than you knew what he did for a career, but even then, he was still kimi, dad's friend.

one thing was a constant though: he’s not a man of many words.

your parents were on vacation and your aunt was supposed to stay with you since you weren't going and you guys sorta lived in the middle of no where.

kimi was in town and your parents asked him to stay with you so you won't be here all alone.

after they left, the two of you were sitting in the living room. he asked if you wanted dinner and you say okay.

kimi tell you to pick a place and you do, leaning over to show him the menu for the takeout place on your phone. kimi was looking at your phone but his eyes move to look at your tits, you were wearing a tank top and he was but a man.

you look at him, following his eyes and you giggle. "what?"

kimi looks at you, confused. "what?"

you shake your head, handing him the phone. "order whatever you want, i'm not picky."

after dinner, you two ended up watching a movie on the couch. kimi moves closer to you, his arm around you and you lean into him, not saying anything.

a sex scene comes on and you've got the humour of a teenage boy, giggling when you look at him.

"what?" he looks at you and you shook your head.

you shake your head, but kimi wasn't having it. the man grabs your chin, forcing you to look at him. "what is it?"

you say nothing, instead you kiss him. kimi was taken aback for a moment but kisses you back, helping you onto his lap. you're grinding down on him, his hands on your hips trying to pull you closer.

kimi flips the two of you over, your legs wrapped around his hips when he pushes your shorts to the side, his fingers rubbing against you.

you can't help but arch your back, pushing your hips closer to him. "desperate," he mumbles, and you smile. "only for you."

Watch What Happens | Day 29: Candles

carlisle cullen x f!reader x charlie swan

Rated E | 5k

Tags: soft filth, est. open relationship, threesome, voyeurism, implied mutual attraction, brief mention of alcohol, sub/dom elements, fingering, oral, unprotected PiV

There’s moments Carlisle can’t share with you, as soft and human as you are. Luckily for you, he finds out he likes to watch. And even more fortuitously - you both find out that Charlie likes to give.

He’s hard to resist.

It could be what he is - so much about him calls to you, makes you starry-eyed. Inhibitions and the filter on your mouth disappearing - leaving your mind as foggy as a chilly winter’s morning.

But you think maybe it’s just him. The silk of his voice, the cool slide of his fingers raising goosebumps in their wake. Trailing down between your breasts, his chest pressed against your back as you knees open between his.

The little shiver when his lips press against your neck. A sharp inhale, the brush of his tongue against the spot where your pulse thuds - a balm against your burning skin.

Your breath comes out a shudder, how he’s so close. His sweet cologne has you sinking against him, his fingers pausing at your mound, sliding over soft skin.

“Carlisle.” You breath his name, and he can feel the gasp in your throat, a hum coming from low in his throat as he indulges you.

Fingers dipping lower as your thighs nudge wider. Feeling where you’re slick and hot and oh - he wants to bury himself in you. Feel that warmth wrapped around him, so soft and so yielding.

Instead, the tip of his finger drags up. Slipping against your clit, first a slow, small circle, and then another. Until your head is tipped back against his solid shoulder, your hips bucking into his touch.

“Please.” You whine, and Carlisle makes a comforting sound, his other hand splayed across your belly, thumb stroking the valley between your breasts.

“You know I can’t.” He admonishes, but it’s soft edge tempers the rejection - your teeth clicking together as they clench.

Lips parting as you pant, close enough to the edge that you’re not above begging, “But you’re - you can handle it. I know you can.”

A mess for him, and he’s still so composed. Not a hair out of place, the only signs are the wrinkles in the clothes where you’ve clung to him, and the hunger that burns in his eyes.

“I don’t think I could hold back.” He admits, though he says it without shame.

Just the truth - why he keeps you at arms length in some ways. Giving you his fingers and his mouth, but no more - even in spite of your sweet pleas.

You’re protesting again, something about how he manages just fine as a doctor - that if he can handle that then certainly this has to be easy - and his kiss is sweet against your temple.

The softest tsk as he chides you.

“It’s easy not to want what you’ve never had.”

And then an intake of breath, the sound sharp against your ear as he inhales you, your scent. Fingers sliding down until they’re slipping into you, unable to resist giving you just a tiny bit more.

But no more than that.

“And you must remember… I’ve tasted you, darling.”

———

An idea forms, just a small bud of a thing. Slowly growing, blooming - unfurling at each meeting.

It hadn’t been hard. Carlisle had seen the way he looked at you both, the lingering glances. A curiosity, your eyes flicking Charlie’s way when you think no one is looking. When he looks to Carlisle, and then you when he makes a some sort of jest or snarky comment, waiting for a soft smile.

A loop, ebbing and flowing.

Carlisle brings the idea to you when you’re in the car, after picking you up for the evening. Broaching the topic just as you pass the Police Station, the neat flick of his eyes towards the parking lot, automatically checking to see if he’s still there.

He’s not, and the car keeps going.

“What do you think about Charlie?” Carlisle asks you, as if he’s asking about your weekend plans, what you’d like to have for dinner.

You frown, “As a person?”

“Yes.” He hums, “More than that, but yes.”

It takes a second to form words, the thoughts tumbling around. Not sure where he’s going with his question, but you try to answer honestly - there were few secrets between you. Many things laid bare, expectations discussed.

Even if you poked at them, sometimes, in the heat of the moment.

“He’s been a good friend.” You settle on something vague, though a heat rises to your cheeks as you glance out the window, “I like him.”

A thumb taps against the steering wheel, once, twice. His gaze always has a weight that settles over you, a gravity that always pulls to back to him.

So you glance, where he’s smiling.

“I like him, too.”

You blink, “Yeah?”

“Mhmm.” He watching, gauging your reaction. If you understand, or if he’ll have to leave more breadcrumbs.

But he doesn’t need to worry. It’s something you’ve discussed - just whispers in the dark, cozy with the afterglow. Sometimes, you think it’s just a dream, the memory of some unconscious thought.

How he imagines, sometimes, you with someone else. Wanting to see just how much you could take in the hands of someone who didn’t have to be careful like he did.

How well you might listen to them, under his instruction. How you might look, pinned between them, each of his movements so measured and careful as he finds his own end.

How you’ve thought about that, too.

“Do…” You hesitate, before surging forward, “What makes you think he’d say yes?”

There’s the slightest curve of his lips, the hint of a dimple.

“He’ll say yes.” His voice is certain - the same tone he uses in the office. A hand reaching, cool to the touch as his fingers fit between yours.

“I wouldn’t bring it up if I wasn’t certain, love.”

———

It’s on a chilly December night when Carlisle asks him.

The subject broached after an evening of pizza and beer, a game on Charlie’s television half-watched in quiet companionship. Bellies filled with drink and food - sitting cozy on the couch, before Carlisle finds the perfect segue. His pitch clean and effortless, much like everything he does.

Charlie’s brow pinched and furrowed as he listens to the solicitation - not sure if he’s heard correctly.

A quick darting of eyes after, as he glances your way. Over the years in Forks he’s gotten used to not asking questions too many - taking opportunities at face value.

If anything he looks like he’s not sure why you’re asking him, and it makes you smile at his obliviousness. Fingers passing over and smoothing the edge of his mustache as he processes.

For a long moment, you wonder what he’s thinking about - if the two of you have gotten this all wrong. Not too worried about discretion, both of their jobs made keeping knowledge quiet second nature. But you didn’t want to mess up the friendship that had formed, over the past few years.

But Carlisle is right - as he always is.

“I don’t like… “ His hand waves in the air, discomfort evident, “Complications. So as long as it not-”

“No complications, I assure you.” Carlisle smiles warmly, “Just the occasional favor, if you’d prefer to think about it that way.”

“Hell of a favor.” Charlie huffs, his mustache twitching with a bemused smile - but he’s intrigued, leaning back against the worn couch.

A beat, before he nods slowly - a sense of finality to his answer.

“Fine with me.”

———

He’s warm beneath you.

You’ve forgotten what it’s like - too used to the feeling of carved marble in human form. Sculpted by the gods and shaped in their image.

But Charlie, he gives. Your hand flat against his chest, sliding up to his shoulders. Fingers digging into the thick muscle as his own grip at your waist.

Hot-blooded, with the way those hands squeeze, tug. Rocking your hips against his as you straddle him, his back bumping against the headboard.

The room dark with the wintry, evening light. Ending up at your place together - an almost tangible tension in the room after the conversation. A mutual agreement that there was no sense in waiting until another night, not with all possibilities so beautifully ripe and swirling in your mind.

Candles illuminate the cozy space - one on your dresser, another on your bedside table. Carlisle thought it would soften him, make him blend in.

He was right - about more than just that, tonight.

If you turned your head you could see him from his seat in the cozy, overstuffed armchair you liked to read in. Looking like he’s been bathed in gold, achingly beautiful. As close to human as you’ve seen him.

You can feel the weight of his gaze, where he watches - still as stone. But another shift of your hips brings you back, rocking you where Charlie is thick in his jeans. A low breath of a moan as you push the flannel from his shoulders, your lips dragging around a stubble-lined cheek as he tugs his arms from the sleeves.

The shirt and bra you’re wearing goes next, disappearing over the edge of the bed to join your pants - discarded before he had pulled you onto his lap moments before. Fingers roaming over newly-bared flesh, his touch greedy as he palms your breast, eyes dropping to see how they look in his hands.

“Christ, you’re beautiful.” He’s murmuring, as your fingers slip around the buckle of his belt, “You sure you want this?”

Charlie’s gaze flickers over your shoulder, just to the side. A careful confirmation, and you use this distraction to palm him, your hand curling and cupping.

“God, yes.” You breath, as he groans, a small thrust of his hips into your touch. Fingers pressing and teasing and stroking him over his jeans, as he finishes loosening his belt, popping open the buckle.

“Be good for Chief Swan, sweetheart.” A soft voice chides, capturing your attention. Your head turns, meeting his gaze as the edge of his lips tilt in a knowing smile, “Can you do that for us?”

It has you nodding, turning back to Charlie, so he can see too. Easing back off him, kneeling on the bed as you wait for him to work the zipper - lift his hips. Helping him tug the fabric down his thighs, before settling between them.

His t-shirt pushed up to his abdomen, the thick curve of his cock resting just below against a dusting of coarse hair. Legs spread across the top of your thick, soft comforter, one still bent at the knee, foot flat against the bed.

His leg straightens, muscles flexing, when you take him in your mouth. Nose brushing against his abdomen as your head dips, lips parting to wrap around the flushed tip, enveloping him.

You can be good. Make him moan with your mouth, your hands. More - if he still wants that, if he hasn’t changed his mind.

But you don’t think he has, not when his fingers are brushing over your shoulders - wide hands coming to cup your jaw as your head bobs.

Seeing the way he sinks into your pillow, the small, unconscious thrust of his hips as you meet his eyes, something you’re sure Carlisle catches.

Eyes closing as your tongue swirls, over velvet-soft skin, taking him as deep as you can into your throat. Pleased when you hear the broken moan in response, his breath harsh.

You like this. It’s different, how responsive he his. Soaking in the rising of his chest with each breath, the throb of his cock against your tongue. Words you don’t quite catch as your thighs press together, trying to relieve an ache of your own.

It’s not as subtle as you thought, not from where your lover sits, near the end of the bed. Fingers curled underneath his chin, his elbow resting on the padded arm as he watches beneath sharp, half-lidded eyes.

“Touch yourself, kitten.” Carlisle tells you, “I can see how wet you are. I want you messy when he fucks you.”

His words make you clench, the hand on Charlie’s thigh gripping on a little tighter as you moan. Your lazy pace slowing as your eyes glance up unconsciously, where he’s watching you, too.

“You let him call the shots like that?” Charlie asks - a thumb swiping over your cheek, as he rests heavy on your tongue.

His question is amusing to you, you’d smile if your mouth wasn’t so full - an answer coming as your fingers slide between your thighs, feeling just how soft and soaked you really are.

Fluttering shut as you suck on him, as your fingertips circle, pressing at your clit. Basking in relief as your own throbbing is answered and eased.

Shifting your weight for balance, leaning more onto his sturdy thighs. It’s hard to do this much at once, your brain fuzzy with desire, your own pleasure now at war with the need to make him come with your mouth.

Charlie’s voice breaks through your thoughts, the words rasped out, “You like being told what to do, baby?”

You nod automatically, in between the slow bobs of your head, the sharp exhale of breath through your nose as you concentrate.

There’s a rumbling groan in his throat, as he pieces more things together. What you like, what he likes, what all three of you do.

“Fuck. Can you make yourself come for me?” His voice lowers, gaining a hint of an edge, “I won’t fuck you until you do.”

There’s a low hum of amusement and approval from the corner, a curving smile as you melt with Charlie’s words. Leaning into his permission, as your attention shifts. The teasing touches becoming more focused, knowing that you don’t have to keep yourself on the edge anymore.

Almost making you forget keep moving, an apologetic look thrown Charlie’s way as you take him deep again. Not that he seems to mind, his gaze fixed fully on the movement of your wrist, eyes watchful and greedy.

“I know it’s hard, darling.” Carlisle’s soft voice chimes in, a balm and an accelerant to the building ache, “Just hold him in your mouth, okay? Keep him nice and warm.”

There’s a hiss of breath at his words, Charlie’s hips rocking into your mouth. They make you tremble too, a tightening in your belly as your fingers slide over soaked skin.

Closer, closer closer - getting lost as he fills your mouth. As you bring yourself to edge, and then plummeting over.

A muffled whimper buzzes in your throat before you’re releasing him, your face pressed against the curve of his hip as you ride out the pleasure with your fingers. Moaning senselessly as your thighs flex, as the pulsing relief grows and spreads throughout your body. Leaving you to catch your breath, panting through kiss and cock-swollen lips.

Limbs pliant as Charlie moves you with a gentle, “Turn around for me, baby.”

Propping yourself up on your knees, letting your back curve down so your head can rest on the bed - until the thudding in your chest wanes, a sigh of contentment leaving your lips.

Only then does he move, pushing himself up as well. Hands tugging the shirt from his shoulders, before palming the curve of your ass - the slightest tug as his movement bares you.

“God, just look at you.”

The words are no more than a rasp, fingers tracing slick skin, down to where your thighs are damp with your release. Tracing up to puffy lips, your thighs tensing when his thumb nudges your clit, where it’s still tender.

Fingers moving to press at your opening, until the tip of one sinks into the first knuckle, and then deeper. Pumping slowly, working you open before the second notches at your entrance.

“So fucking tight.” He growls out, “Need to get you ready for me.”

You had been expecting him to take you, to fill you. His tenderness is something that makes you warm, as you peek over your shoulder at him. Where he’s backlit by the candlelight, his features becoming softened and movements fluid.

A gentleman, though in a much more different and gruff kind of way than Carlisle. Not for the first time, but certainly the most realistic, you imagine both sets of hands on you - the contrast making you shiver.

Your fingers curl in the blanket, holding on as Charlie nudges at a spot that sends up sparks in your belly. A soft moan as he pauses for a second, before doing it again. Feeling how you clench, imaging himself how you’ll feel wrapped around other parts of him.

Scissoring you open, the briefest pause before there’s the sound of his body shifting, then a soft and warm exhale of breath against your thigh. Followed by the wet brush of his tongue as he tastes you around his fingers, making your sleepy eyes snap open.

“Fuck.” You groan the word through clenched teeth, an arch to your back as his tongue sweeps against your clit.

Fingers withdrawing to grasp your thighs, holding you steady and open against his mouth. Dipping inside to taste your release, the sound of skin against skin as a hand leaves your hip to wrap around his cock.

“Taste so good, honey.” He murmurs the words against your skin, pulling back to press a kiss against the sensitive skin of your thigh, “So fucking sweet.”

Your eyes lift, to where Carlisle sits - seeing how he’s watching, the hand propped under his chin now moving. Ghosting over the front of his trousers, gently palming where his cock strains against the woolen fabric.

It does something to you, his look hungry when your slow sweep meets his. Knowing what he wants to see, wanting to give that to him.

“I want you.” You beg, your eyes on him, a two-edged meaning to your words. His eyes drop to your lips as Charlie groans behind you, a hand pressing down against your back for leverage as he pushes himself up until he’s kneeling.

The kiss of his cock as it presses against you, the head just nudging against your slit. Holding himself there, one last confirmation, “Is this what you want?”

You shift against him, trying to press him into you - voice clipped with the effort, “Yes.”

“Oh darling, I know you can do better than that. Ask him nicely.” Carlisle’s soft tone cuts in - it’s almost annoying how easily he finds the words to fluster you.

The hand on your back curls, biting into your skin as there’s a sharp exhale of breath. Your eyes hold for a second longer before your head tilts, your ear pressed into the mattress.

If he wants to watch you beg, you will.

“Please fuck me, Charlie.” You whine, fingers curling into the blanket, rocking back towards him. Feeling the head of his cock just starting to press into you, as he makes no effort to hold himself back or move away.

Too far gone himself, to actually deny you of anything. It fuels the heat in your belly, making you want him even more, for him to take you, “Oh, I want your cock so bad.”

You’re the one watching as his jaw clenches, the way his eyes darken. The hand on his cock leaving to curl around your hip, tugging you back onto him. Splitting you open as your plead turns into a long, high moan - filling you with a single, sharp thrust.

“Christ, sweetheart.” He grits out, feeling the way you clench around him. Ages since he’s had someone like this - so soft and sweet and begging.

Hands still gripping on as he pulls back, no more than half-way, a grunt as he buries himself again.

“Is she warm, Charlie?”

When you finally move your head, you see how Carlisle has shifted. Thighs spread open, his elbow pressing into his knee as he leans closer. Almost on the edge of his seat, no more than a few feet from you now.

There’s a huff of breath, the slow slide of Charlie’s cock as he thrusts. Once, and then again, grinding himself deep until you’re moaning.

“Yes, your girl is gripping my cock. So fucking tight and warm.” His voice is close to a growl, coaxing your hips into a rhythm.

Watching the way your ass bounces against his hips, the peek of his wet cock when you rock forward. Disappearing into your cunt as you arch into him, using your grip on the bed for leverage.

You don’t know how to interpret the look Carlisle gives you. Almost wistful, his lips parted with the memory of a breath he no longer has, soaking in the bliss on your face.

“And how does he feel, love?” He asks you,

“God,” You gasp, “You feel so fucking good, Charlie.”

There’s a flush on his cheeks behind you, a groan in his chest as his hips slap against your thighs. The wet squelch each time you take him, slick from desire and your release and his hot, warm mouth.

His strokes nudging where his fingers had been, your mind going fuzzier with each stroke. Eyes focusing on where the fabric pulls tight against Carlisle’s crotch, a question you are just barely able to voice.

“You want me to take care of you?”

Carlisle has said he preferred to just watch. Something that had been discussed, something that Charlie agreed to, but had almost seemed almost surprised about. Like he had assumed otherwise, when he had agreed.

His eyes flicker above you, a glance at the other man. Lips curling with a knowing look that you’re not sure you understand, a flash of white teeth that only you can see.

“Next time.” He promises, “Okay, kitten?”

The nod comes quickly and eagerly, but he’s not done with you yet. His hand lifting, his first finger curling under your chin. Shifting you, the angle making you groan, as his thumb presses against your lower lip.

You open for him, lips wrapping around and sucking - his thumb cool when it presses down against your tongue. Giving you something else to keep your mouth busy, letting his own mind wander to stolen moments together.

Feeling each muffled moan as it buzzes in your throat, the warm suction of your mouth as you feel the pressure building again. Letting your teeth scrape over the pad of his thumb when a thrust pushes it deeper into your mouth, knowing you can’t hurt him.

Already close from Charlie’s fingers and his mouth - a throbbing bloom of pleasure that feels close to bursting. The sounds becoming more rhythmic, drunk on the feeling of being so full - content to let it build until it becomes overwhelming.

When your eyes start to go hazy is when he pulls back, smearing the string of spit over your lower lip, leaving it glossy. Surprising you as his mouth presses to yours, a low, pleased hum in his throat when your lips brush.

“What do you need?” Carlisle coos, stealing one more kiss before leaning back. Knowing that it won’t take much for you to shatter - content to watch from his seat so that he doesn’t miss anything.

The answer is easy, the answer is on the tip of your tongue when Charlie beats you to it.

“I know just what she needs.”

He had slowed to a grind when Carlisle teased you, but now he man-handles you. An arm curling around your waist, pinning you in place against him. His thrusts sharp and shallow, shifting until he hears you gasp, feeling you clench down hard around him.

“Christ, that’s it. Good girl.” Charlie croons, fingers reaching to pet the bud of your clit, touching you like he had watched you do before.

“I want you to come for me. Want you to cream on my cock, sweetheart. I know you can do it.”

His voice is soft and low, an edge like before - circling and pressing, his cock pounding into you - you’re so close that you can hardly breathe.

“Oh god,” You murmur, toes curling, muscles stringing tight in anticipation, “Oh my god, please-“

“That’s it, come on.” Charlie urges, the words sounding fuzzy in your ears - drowned out by the thud of your heartbeat.

A cool hand nudging at your chin, tilting your face from where it dips between your shoulders.

“Show me.” Carlisle murmurs, just for you.

And so, you do.

Letting him watch the way your brows pinch, the stiff arch of your back as you come. Eyes focused on his, the light of the candles dancing off dark pupils, until stars are exploding behind yours as they flutter shut.

Your release torn from you, leaving you gasping and moaning, half-formed words as his cock makes you gush. Soaking him like he wanted, each thrust slicker and louder in your small bedroom.

Another low whisper, just for you, “Good girl.”

It’s only his centuries of self-control that prevents you from seeing just how far gone Carlisle is. Watching you take and take - the bliss crossing your features as you came undone.

So much more carnal than the gentle lovemaking that he’s limited himself too - worried about getting too lost in the moment, unable to forgive himself if he ever injured you.

Never wanting to test the limits of his abilities as much as he did right now. If it were possible to feel pain, he thinks he’d be throbbing right now with need.

But the evening is not over - even as your wanton cries turn into contented moans. The sharp pulses turning into waves that leave you relaxed and euphoric.

Letting Charlie set his own pace, hands grasping at your hips, tugging you to meet each thrust. Not far behind, not after the way your pussy clenched around him, as he heard the way you sighed his name.

The grind of his hips turning shorter, faster. His voice matching his need, low and rasping, “I’m close, sweetheart. Where do you want me?”

“You can come in her, Charlie.” Carlisle answers for you, his eyes glittering in the dim of the room, “I assure you, it’s safe.”

Charlie’s groan is strangled, a stutter to his hips, “Fuck. You hear that baby? Is that what you want?”

You clench down around him, murmuring a dreamy, “mhmm” as he groans.

Only lasting a few more sharp thrusts before he’s there - chest pressing against your back as he bends over you. Shoving himself deep as his cock throbs, spilling into your heat.

You take him, every last drop, until he’s easing himself out - until his release threatens to drip from you. Waiting until he’s collapsing back on your pillows before you join him. Suddenly shy, in spite of everything.

The bed dips with added weight a moment later, as Carlisle finally moves from the armchair. Fitting himself on your other side, pushing you closer to Charlie. Hips bumping against yours as his hand slides up your thigh, to where your legs are still parted as you catch your breath.

Fingertips trail over the sensitive skin - down to where you’re puffy and slick. Watching you with golden eyes as the tips of two of them press into you - as you’re unable to stifle a gasp of surprise, and then a moan.

Nudging deep, where you’re wet and filled. The sound lewd as his fingers pump, and then curl.

Your head tilts fractionally, as your eyes slide to where Charlie is stretched out beside you. The arm he had thrown across his face has lowered, moving behind his head. His own gaze focused on the careful movements between your thighs.

“So warm.” Carlisle hums, his lips curving as he finds a spot that makes you to jolt, clench around him. The flash of pretty teeth as he smiles.

A hand drifts to rest on your hip, moving slowly. A very warm, very human hand - sliding over skin as it moves up to your waist.

Charlie’s bare chest pressing against your shoulder as he curls onto his side. His thumb brushing the underside of your breast, a soft back-and-forth. Flatting his palm when you arch into his touch, and you can feel the exhale of his breath against your ear.

Their touches, the attention, feels overwhelming. Your breath coming in short pants, a sharp “ah” with half-lidded eyes as a thumb slides across your clit.

As Carlisle dips down to steal a kiss, a swipe of his tongue against yours. A noise almost like a growl - the flickering light dancing across the arch of his sculpted cheekbones, almost making him glow.

The press of a hip against yours, as Charlie shifts against you. Trapping the taut peak of your nipple between his knuckles, the breath you’re holding dragged out in a moan.

“You got one more, honey?” He murmurs, his eyes dragging from where Carlisle leans over you, his gaze heavy and curious and wanting.

Your lips brush his next as you nod, and you wonder if he can taste Carlisle on your tongue. If he’s thinking about him, wondering - though the thought is quickly slipping from your mind.

Sliding through your fingers like smoke as his thumb presses just a little harder, as Charlie’s fingers pinch and tug and it’s all too much.

Your back bowing against the bed they bring you over the edge - fingers slowing, pressing deep. Keeping you full so the spend doesn’t leak from you, not yet.

Enjoying the tight clench of your cunt as you pulse around his fingers, listening to each gasping breath, the sound of your moans. Committing your pretty, human, reactions to memory - the thudding of your pulse, the way you gaze at him so reverently.

Until gently, his fingers slide from you. Slick and shining with you - with Charlie. The flash of his pink tongue appearing between parted lips as he sucks the tip of one clean, before taking both into his mouth.

Slowly sliding them out - licked clean - before his head is dipping to kissing you again. His tongue already seeking yours before your lips fully meet.

“Shit.” Charlie hisses next to you, carefully watching every moment.

Carlisle’s laugh as soft as his voice, when he pulls back. His thumb running over your lip, as his eyes find Charlie’s.

“Thank you.” He tells him, and you think only Carlisle could sound so composed after such an evening.

Charlie’s ears and cheeks flushed pink - a huff of an incredulous, pleased breath.

“Uh, sure.” He manages, a hand brushing through his hair, yet not making any attempt to move. Still uncertain that this wasn’t a dream, a fantasy.

“Anytime.”

(No pressure tags: @andrewrussgarfield, @luxuryberzatto, @jedicouncilmember)