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

it is a glorious sunrise - f.alonso

masterlist

requested: n

pairings: Fernando Alonso x fem!reader

warnings: not intended for minors + oral ( m receiving) + established relationship

a/n: had an Alonso brainrot in June… it’s just now getting posted 😅 lol enjoy!!!!

《 the following content is not intended for minors. 》

There is happiness

In our history

Across our great divide

There is a glorious sunrise

Dappled with the flickers of light

the white linen sheets are crumpled up at the end of the bed. the warm breeze of beautiful Greece was unbearable, that not even night fall could’ve made the humidity drop.

your bodies, despite the warmth, are intertwined with one another. his large hand rests upon your ass, while his other arm has fallen completely numb underneath your naked body.

you can’t help but move closer to him, wanting to feel his chest slightly rise. you can feel the warmth and moisture against his skin, your finger nails trail over the glisten droplets against his abs causing him to stir awake.

he exhales a moan, hand moving up your back and snaking into your hair, fingers beginning to massage your scalp. the silence is filled with the birds chirping outside the open window, and the sounds of young boys and girls giggling in the distance of the sea. it’s blissful, a beautiful awakening next to him.

you flip onto your stomach, breasts pressed against his bare body, you move upward, hands on both sides of him as your lips connect with his. your eyes close, but his open as he was just beginning to drift back to sleep. your soft sweet lips begin to gently move down his neck, a silent moan escapes his lips, head tilting further back into the pillow.

“ay dios mío,” he whispers feeling your nails rake into his skin, lips and tongue licking the sweat off his body. he squirms underneath you, breath hitching when he feels the warm air against his growing hard cock. looking out the window he sees the sun is just barely rising. the orange and pink skies are just forming, the view is breathtaking. watching the sun come up from the clouds, he couldn’t think of anything more beautiful. that’s until his attention shifts to your wet tongue against his tip, mind switches back to reality.

his chest begins to rise and fall with much more emphasis, you can hear his breath increasing with each passing swipe and flick of your tongue against him. he says he can’t last much longer underneath your wet touch, he’s so close to folding. his fingers are bunching the sheets, knuckles white, he’s trying hard to keep it together.

“amor, please,” his pleas are increasing, you swear the people outside your room could hear him, but you don’t mind. you love having him wrapped around your finger, looking like a damsel in distress. it’s not very often he behaves like this.

your tongue flicks him just right, something he’s never felt before, the way it scrapes against his skin, tickles his own nerves the pleasure makes his legs twitch as his body exhales your reward; his cum.

“Buenos días princesa,” he sighs watching you crawl up from his legs to beside him in the bed. you press your lips against his once again, two of you settling into the mattress comfortably.

“what a beautiful morning, nando.” you say, moving yourself closer so you can rest your head against his chest, two of you watch the sunrise with heavy eyelids and once again fall back into slumber.

There is happiness

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. 

prize

{toto wolff x fem!reader x lewis hamilton}

in which toto gifts lewis his most prized possession

warnings: smut with no plot in sight, threesome sex, free-use/sharing, blowjobs/intense deep throating with some references to light gagging + choking / hand over throat and swallowing, voyeurism/exhibitionism with m!masturbation, fingering, unprotected + risky/irresponsible sex, some vague dom/sub controlling dynamics with use of “sir” + “good girl”, some dirty talk, possessive behaviour and ownership talk that is concerning to feminism.

a/n: sometime last year, I was writing something that was so dirty I wanted to create an entirely new blog so I wouldn’t be associated with it. This is the fic that spurred that impulse. i promise I don’t usually write filth like this, but I was possessed by the need to get this out of my system.

They got you splayed out flat on the huge bed that sits in the middle of the hotel room, your tight skirt hiked up to your hips, legs spread. The taller man stands in front of you, a balled fist under his chin as he contemplates how delicious you look, naked and wet for him and his prized, 7-time (or 8, depending on who you ask) world champion who’s still in disbelief, having come straight from his most recent podium finish.

“See, Lewis,” Toto’s deep voice reverberates through the room, making your skin pebble with awareness of its sensual timbre, “I told you I’d get you a fitting prize for your win today.”

Lewis’ eyes glint with amusement, tongue flicking out to swipe over his bottom lip that’s still sticky with champagne. “She’s so pretty, Toto. She yours?”

“Mmmm.” He nods in agreement, reaching over to slide his hand up the soft curve of your inner thigh, making you shiver with want. His hands are so big and warm as they inch up to cup your pussy between your legs, pressing into you with skilful, familiar hands that have you bucking up into his sensual touch. Those long, elegant fingers stroke between your folds, teasing you until you cry out and beg, “please, Toto!”

He withdraws instantly, and you groan from the loss of his touch. When he speaks, it’s unbearably deep and authoritative. “What did you just call me?”

“I’m s-sorry,” you whimper, feeling the shame burn in your cheeks, “p-please… sir.”

He crooks a grin at you, voice still holding traces of his stern discipline. “That’s much better.”

And with that admission, he licks his fingers, already wet with you, so that they’re even slicker so he can push them into you, curling up and rubbing that perfect spot inside you that’s got you arching, undulating against his hand. Toto’s smile widens when he feels your walls clenching around his fingers, endeavouring to slide a third finger inside the tight squeeze of you. He darts a look at Lewis, as if ready to issue orders over a team radio, and Lewis is so quick on the uptake, understandingly perfectly what Toto wants and starts stripping himself from fashionably loose top. He’s beautiful - so muscular and taut everywhere, and deliciously hard where it matters most. You can’t tear your eyes away from the way his fingers - tattooed, long, elegant - peel his clothes away with such a finesse.

“Make him feel so good with your mouth,” comes Toto’s order, his fingers still working you, and you twist up into the pleasurable rhythm of his touch, and the prospect of obeying him, of getting to taste his champion whom you’ve had your eye on for longer than you cared to admit.

Lewis steps forward, not shy in the very least, but you sense his apprehension in crossing this line with you tonight. That, you think, won’t do at all. He needs to know you want this - you’re eager to show him how happy everyone is after his victory - how pleased Toto in particular is.

Toto can be very generous with his gifts when he wants to be. And you never want to disappoint.

Your tongue licks Lewis’ dick from the base all the way to the tip, tracing the vein that runs across his cock so beautifully. He makes such encouraging sounds as you worship him with your mouth, with kisses and long sweeps of your tongue, until he’s fully hard, and he’s got his hands cupped at the back of your head with gentle persuasion.

“Such a good girl. Showing him what your mouth can do, hm?” Toto slides his thumb over your clit, rubbing a sinister, torturous little pattern that makes you moan as you gaze up at Lewis, watching his eyes go half-lidded with desire as you take his cock further into your mouth, swallowing around him. “That’s it, sweetheart,” Toto praises, fuelling your desire to please him and Lewis even more. “That’s my good girl.”

You suck Lewis in your mouth so deep that you have to concentrate to suppress your gag reflex. His lips part, eyes darkening as you reach for his hip and pull him even further inside you, until he’s past the tight squeeze of your throat and you choke slightly, eyes watering from the sensation of him buried in you fully. This blowjob, coupled with Toto’s relentless fingers fucking you, teasing you until you’re mindless, makes you gasp out, making rough noises of struggle as you grow overwhelmed with the sensations they’re building inside you.

Lewis brushes away the stray tears that fall from your eyes, pulling back slightly to ease your discomfort. “You look so fucking pretty like this…” he says, flicking his tongue over his lower lip.

You whimper, pushing back to find that satisfying girth of his cock, the pressing it to the back of your throat again, and this time it makes his dick throb. You gag slightly, the sound making Toto hum encouragingly, and so you take more and hold back the reflex that’s pushing his cock out. You keep Lewis in the squeeze of your throat for long seconds, until he’s swearing, pulling out desperately because it feels too good, and you’ll make him want to come too quickly. You can taste the musky sweetness of his precum all over your tongue when he slides out, his cock a mess with your saliva.

“Fuck.” He says, eyes shiny, staring at you with an incredulity that feels like the best form of flattery.

“Got her all ready for you, Lewis.” Toto withdraws his fingers and, with a wry little smile on his face, draws P1 in your own wetness in the blank canvas of your inner thigh, and Lewis traces it with his own fingers, his face aglow with pride at the memory of his victory.

“On your back, pretty girl,” Lewis says, and you hurry to comply. He gets on top of you, his warmth engulfing you. You tip your head back to watch Toto press his palm over the bulge at his pants, as if to ease the ache there, and you whimper, reaching out for him.

Toto shakes his head, settling into the chair he pulls up next to the bed to watch you two. “You’re all his tonight, do you understand?”

“Yes, sir,” you whisper, flushing at the thought of Toto sharing you so freely, especially when he’s ordinarily so possessive. You turn back to look at Lewis, who’s so handsome especially up close, and you wind your arms around his neck to pull him down for a kiss that’s tentative, sweet - showing Toto exactly what he’s missing out on tonight. Lewis deepens the kiss with a hand cupped to your jaw, and you moan when his tongue slides against yours - you know he can taste himself on your tongue.

At the side of the room, you hear Toto unzip his pants, and when you turn to look, Lewis pulls your face back to him. “Eyes on me,” he says, a tad sharply, and you shiver at the authority you hear in his voice, “you’re mine tonight, remember?”

You swallow, feeling heat rush to your cheeks at the thought of fully surrendering to him. He rubs his nose against yours, and you exhale at the feel of his soft lips coming to kiss you again - this time, it’s this intoxicating, drug-like thing that makes you dizzy with want. “Lewis,” you beg, stroking your hands down his smooth back, feeling the shift of his muscles underneath your touch. “Yes. All yours.”

Lewis pulls back from the kiss - raises his eyebrows. And you bite down on your bottom lip, knowing exactly what he wants.

You take a steadying breath, before telling him, “I’m all yours - sir.”

At the side, you can hear Toto’s hitched breath, as if he finds this transgressive act of you calling Lewis the name you reserve only for Toto so unbearably, ridiculously arousing. Behind that, the sound of his hand coming to stroke his cock with teasing slowness - as if he wants to savour this - to prolong this.

Lewis smiles into your kiss, his hands now gliding across your thigh, guiding you to wrap around his hips so that he can be so close to you - his prize. His cock is so hard against your belly, but he seems content to grind up slowly against you - letting the heat build in torturous laps. You whimper in frustration, pushing back into him, the ache between your legs too much to ignore any longer. “So impatient,” he teases, “are you this whiny with Toto?”

“Worse,” Toto says, the low rumble of his voice an erotic reminder that he’s relinquished you tonight. “She’s always so fucking eager for it.”

Lewis chuckles, letting his hand wander past the slope of your thigh, up to your slick folds that part easily for his fingers. You gasp when he finds your clit, making messy circles as his free hand finds the curve of your breast to cup its weight, tease your nipple into an even stiffer point. You arch your back, bucking into his touch. “So good for me,” he murmurs, glancing over at Toto now, and you follow his gaze, meeting your boyfriend’s eyes and seeing them glazed over with affection, with yearning, with an arousal that you’ve never quite seen before. Toto’s hand’s gripping his cock in twisting, deft strokes. Your belly tightens, jaw going slack as you watch, hypnotised, feeling yourself tip past the point of no return, having Lewis’ fingers on your clit, watching Toto touch himself to this - you come all too easily, melting into the sheets with endless shudders and a wet rush over Lewis’ fingers. You can’t help the mess you make, and judging from the look on Toto and Lewis’s face - they can’t help admiring it.

“Don’t keep her waiting, Lewis,” Toto says, an order that’s clearly for his own benefit too. From the way his breathing’s gone ragged, a flush spreading down the open collar of his button down shirt, you know he wants to come, too.

Lewis nods, keeping his eyes on his boss as he whispers into your ear, “he likes to watch, huh?”

You grin at him. “Turn me over and fuck me, and you’ll find out just how much he likes it.”

Lewis laughs. He’s left the skin along your belly sticky with precum, from where his cock’s been grinding against you, and you feel an answering pull to have him make more of a sticky mess all over you. Inside you.

He turns you over gently in his hands, until you’re on your belly, in direct view of Toto. Facing him.

Toto winks at you, and stills his hand. You lick your lips and gaze at the erection in his lap, already beaded with moisture from the tip. Fuck, you mouth to him, and from the way he smirks, you know he feels the exact way you do now.

Lewis slides a hand in your hair and tugs, making you cry out in surprise. He kisses your cheek, and you wriggle back into his cock, sliding it along the cleft of your ass. Back and forth. Toto spits into his hand and you watch him drag the shiny smear across his cock with fascination. “Need you, sir,” you say, unable to distinguish exactly who you’re talking about - because maybe it’s not just Toto or Lewis - but somehow both, fulfilling exactly what you want. What you need.

Lewis tightens his grip in your hair, guiding his cock with his free hand to the slippery heat he finds between your legs now. You spread your legs for him, unable to keep at bay the shameless wanting you feel - intensified only by the fact that Toto’s watching you two, touching himself to this.

Lewis gazes at Toto with a keen eye, as if needing that final push towards the finish line, an extra injection of assurance and confidence, and all Toto does is to give the most subtle of nods, and to tell him, “go on, Lewis.” He grins in a way that befits his name - teasingly wolfish. “Push, push.”

Lewis hums, “understood.” And he does. Oh he fucking does - pressing thick and hot into you, with a grunt that you echo as well. He feels so solid inside you, and it almost aches to have him fill you up. Your face scrunches up with that ecstasy of feeling all of him and you grip the sheets while you breathe through this new sensation.

Above you, Lewis is pressed against your back, practically vibrating with energy. You clench around him when Toto groans softly, squeezing at the head of his cock until a tantalising drip of precum leaks out. You want to lick it all up, and the look in Toto’s eyes promises you that you can - later.

Lewis sucks in a breath, and starts to move inside you, using the grip he has in your hair as leverage to fuck you deeper, rougher. You cry out with each thrust he makes, keeping your eyes on Toto the whole time, the lines of his face becoming more pronounced when he’s this turned on. “Such a good girl,” he says, and you bask in his praise, tightening around Lewis in a way that makes him groan.

Lewis rewards you with kisses littered along your shoulders, your neck, finding a particularly sensitive spot that makes you melt into the bed as you exhale a trembly breath for him.

“You can bite, too,” Toto chimes in, and your whole body goes taut - he looks so smug, being so thoroughly in tune with your body that he knows what you need even before you need it. You could come like this, to Toto’s open adoration of you and Lewis together, to his orders, to the way Lewis fucks into you with the perfect balance of roughness and tender care. Lewis is no fool - he’ll take every advantage that’s offered by his boss. He snaps up the instruction with ease, sinking his teeth into your nape and sucking at the soreness he leaves. You moan, desperate now because your body feels like it doesn’t belong to you any longer, it’s so molten-hot - pure liquid desire fissioning through you. Toto’s fingers speed up now, and you want him and the rewards he’ll give you later, when Lewis is gone.

“You know he saved it all up for you,” Toto’s voice turns conspiratorial, “he doesn’t fuck before a race.”

You turn to look up at Lewis - his sparkly, pretty eyes, the determination underscored in them, and lean up to kiss him. He deserves this so much - his patience paying off incredibly well. “Don’t stop…” you whisper between the kiss, and Lewis nods, chasing your mouth with his, sucking on your bottom lip. “Don’t stop until you get what you want. What you deserve, sir.”

He pulls back, eyes bright and eager with possibility. He uses that hand in your hair to turn you back to Toto, leaning in to echo the same words Toto issued just moments earlier. “Go on baby,” Lewis whispers, mischievous now, “show him what your mouth can do.”

You gasp. “Holy fuck - yes.”

Toto grins with delight, like Lewis’d just overtaken two cars in a tight corner. He gets up and you don’t waste time obeying - getting what you’d been wanting all evening - taking his cock between your lips now, sucking him in a way that you know he likes. He fills your mouth like no other, and you swallow around him, wanting nothing more than his cum on your tongue, on your face. Lewis doesn’t stop fucking you, hips snapping into yours eagerly, purposefully, and it’s delicious, the dual sensation of being filled at two ends.

Lewis gently eases your head down into Toto’s cock, and you relax your throat, swallowing and breathing slowly until he’s lodged firmly in the tight column. Toto grunts - he likes this, and ordinarily you can’t hold it for too long, but you’re eager to please, to keep this pleasurable for him. For Lewis.

But then Lewis moves his hand from your hair to your throat, and your eyes widen as you realise what he’s doing - trailing fingers along the bulge that Toto’s cock makes in your neck, as if he’s fascinated by how hot it is, how tight your throat must feel, and you start to shake - it’s too much to be touched like this. You pull back instantly, catching your breath, feeling an answering wet rush between your legs.

Your face feels hot when Toto tenderly strokes it, wiping away some of the spit that gathers along your chin, and you nuzzle into his large hand, feeling so comforted. “You liked that,” he observes, and you readily nod.

Lewis grins, wrapping a hand lightly around your throat now. “Can you do it again, sweetheart?”

You make a rough little noise and nod, and this time when you take Toto down your throat again, you know Lewis feels it go in, the same bulge that has you swallowing around, struggling to contain all of Toto’s cock inside you. This feels so hot to you, a challenge that you’re willing to conquer because it gets Toto flustered, that icy control he always has seeming to fracture at the edges when you’re this dirty for him.

Lewis moans, and you tighten around him. He’s going to come. You’re going to come. And Toto… he’s losing control. Fast. Pulling back the slightest before thrusting once into your open mouth now, and-

He swears, and shudders.

The hot spurt of him comes so quick, you’re caught off guard. But you hold him deep inside as much as you can, only pulling back slightly as his cock throbs and he makes this erotically-charged moan when he coats the back of your throat, his eyes never leaving yours as you swallow, suppressing the reflex to gag. He looks so wrecked with ecstasy that you can’t wait to do this again.

Lewis continues to fuck into you, biting your shoulder as if needing to find a distraction, reaching between your legs to drag some of your shared wetness over your clit so he can rub it in messy, desperate circles. You thrash against him as you pull off from Toto’s cock with a satisfying gasp of breath, filling with relief from the ache in your throat and jaw. Lewis murmurs hotly into your skin, “so pretty, fuck… so incredibly good for us,” and you’re shivering now, wanting to having him spill into you with such a savage desire that you push back urgently into him.

“Gonna come,” you warn him, and he groans in return, not stopping for a goddamn moment, letting you ride the momentum you need, that he needs.

Toto cups your face, panting, letting you peer up at him. “God, you’re going to come so hard for him, aren’t you?”

You whine almost pathetically. He’s right. He’s so fucking right.

The orgasm crashes into you with thunderous force, and you cry out hoarsely into Toto’s hands, tears and agonised pleasure written all over your face. The room echoes with your mingled scream of Toto’s name, of Lewis’, with a “sir” and “holy fucking shit” thrown in for good measure. You come and don’t stop coming until Lewis himself is moaning, shoving into you erratically and spilling himself into you. Risky. Reckless. Fucking hot.

You wonder if Toto will make him clean you up, and the thought makes you shiver. You collapse against each other - breathlessly satiated.

The exhaustion that sets in after is profound, but there’s something inherently satisfying in having Lewis pull you over to the centre of the bed, while Toto climbs in at the side, sandwiching you between him and Lewis while he hands you water that you sip at, gratefully, before passing it over to Lewis.

Toto looks so fucking proud of the two of you, as if it’s a shared podium, and he tells you this in the soft kisses he makes at the sore points of your throat and jaw, licking tenderly as if to soothe over the ache. “You did so well,” he murmurs, but there’s no telling if he’s talking only to you, or to Lewis as well. There’s a faint rumble in his chest when you make appreciative noises for his gentle aftercare. His hands stroke over your bare hip, the curve of your waist, and you whimper softly, curling into him. Lewis snuggles in too, spooning you into Toto, sleepily nuzzling his face into your hair, dreaming, you imagine, of future podiums with you and Toto.

—

so happy to purge this fic from my system!! quite a different vibe from the last Lewis & Toto fic I wrote. also yes, I know this wasn’t the threesome that was promised but my Charlos one will be up as soon as I can manage it!

been thinking a lot about threesomes these days if I’m honest. That threesome poll really got me thinking 👀

would love to hear what you thought of this, if you’d be so kind 💛

love ives ✨

masterlist

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."

pls reblog for sample size!

loml

Greg House x Reader

A/N: So, I haven’t written anything in months. Whoopsies! (I have no excuse, I just didn’t want to.)

TW: It’s House. There’s your trigger warning. (Drugs.)

“Who’s gonna stop us from waltzing back into rekindled flames, if we know the steps anyway?”

This is a mistake.

That’s the only thought that runs through your head as you sit in the sterile examination room, the chair under you hard and entirely uncomfortable. It’s fitting, nothing about this will be pleasant, you knew it going in.

And yet you still did. You walked into this damn hospital, snuck around like some criminal, praying that you wouldn’t run into him before the time was right. If it ever is, it never really has been with you two. Maybe it never will be, maybe the world is trying to tell you something you’re just too stubborn to hear. How many times can you keep going back to the same broken thing?

Apparently you haven’t hit your limit yet, considering where you are.

It’s like every nerve in your body spurs to life as the door slides open and he walks in. Him, House. His eyes are glued to the chart in his hand, not really bothering to look at you. He’d treat his patients through the door if he could.

“What’s wrong with you?” He asks in a way that’s so typically him you almost roll your eyes. Abrasive, cold, these should be red flags. They are, you just don’t care.

Maybe he had a point with all the masochist jokes.

You quickly refocus, clearing your throat and waiting. For what, you’re not sure. Obviously he’ll look up, recognize you as, well, you. His ex, but that’s not even close to covering whatever twisted role it is you serve in his life. On and off for…how long? Years, you know that. Two, at least, maybe more. There’s always something wrong, something ruining your chances. The drugs, the painfully obvious emotional unavailability. The same one you ignored the existence of when you decided to come here.

Then there’s you. The constant desire you have for more. More devotion, more love, more than he’s willing to give.

Or more than he can, you refuse to explore that option.

You’re fucked, simply. There’s no possible way that you two work. It’s too much conflict, more than a mouthful of pills or some hate sex can solve.

His eyes flick up and widen as he freezes. Speechless. In another circumstance you’d be proud of this. It’s an achievement after all, he never does know when to shut his mouth.

He wasn’t expecting you, not for a second. Maybe he should’ve. You’ve always been stubborn, a trait you both share. It made for some agonizingly long arguments, and some wildly good make up.

That’s the issue with you two. You are eachother. It’s why you’re so chaotic together. It’s also why you can’t be with anybody else.

“Hey.” You say weakly, and the word feels stupid as it comes out of your mouth. You’re long past pleasantries, which is exactly why you receive silence in return.

You knew he’d be like this.

You feel your face heating in humiliation anyway. At the very least, you won’t cry, you won’t let yourself.

The stinging sensation in your nose is persistent as ever.

He slowly crosses the room, sitting down in the chair next to you, a small creaking noise filling the otherwise empty silence. A thick swallow from you, the awkward drumming of fingers from him. This is painful, and for a second you hope his pager will go off. He’d bolt with an excuse, you know he would. And because you’re the same, you would too. And then you’d be back, in a week, maybe a month, and it’d be even worse.

You’ve always had a knack for self-destruction.

You both know how it ended last time. All over a stupid bet. Cuddy thought he couldn’t make it a week without Vicodin, he thought he could. Back when he was still adamant about denying his addiction. Halfway through it might as well have been torture. Deep into detoxing, and still, he wouldn’t stop. Wouldn’t listen as you begged him to stop being so childish, so stubborn. He wouldn’t even let you come near him, let alone help. He said it’s cause he didn’t need your pity.

In reality, he just didn’t want you to see him like that. Nobody would. Every inch of his pale, shaking frame was covered in sweat, bags under his eyes and a bloodshot gaze had him looking damn near dead.

He was sick, and he hated having to face it more than anything. The Greg House being forced to admit he was wrong. Sometimes you wondered if he’d rather die than say it out loud.

Neither of you handled it well, you never do. He was too stupid to see the obvious, see that he needed help. Needed you. And you, you were too sensitive to let it go. Let him go. Give up on any hope that this could go anywhere.

You still are, and you feel it keenly as the two of you sit in silence. His eyes are trained on you, and if you didn’t know him any better, you’d think the look in his eyes was judgement. But no, it’s a myriad. Confusion, anger, guilt, longing. All things he’d never admit. That’d be far too human.

“Say something.” Your voice comes out pleading, a tone you loathe on yourself.

He turns to you, his eyes tracing over your every feature like he can’t decide which one to settle on. How many times has he seen you like this? Desperate, vulnerable, because of him. He loses count. He wants to forget it, but you have to go through the motions. Pretend you’ve worked through your issues so you can live in a momentary state of bliss. Maybe it’ll last a few months this time. Could be less, if he really screws it up.

He’ll take what he can get.

“What do you want me to say?” The words come out harsh, cold, and for a moment he expects you to turn away. You don’t. Of course you don’t.

You sigh heavily, you expected it, the ice you’d be met with. You know him intrinsically, predicting his moves like the plot twists of a movie you’ve watched one too many times.

“Something, anything.” This is sad, pathetic, even. You always do this. Go back to each other, pulling out a past that’s probably better off left in the dark closet it belongs to. Still, how can you just forget? The idea feels foreign after all this time weaving in and out of one another’s lives.

Still, this is familiar, comfortable, in a way. The feigned indifference, the cold tone, the need to pretend neither of you care nearly as much as you do. It would be easier, less painless, to just move on. Have lives separate from each other.

But he’s starting to think he lives off pain. Physical and mental. It’s all he’s known for years. Why change a routine that’s become so commonplace? And even with the pain, he’s never been happier than he was with you. You understand him, and the part of him that hates that kneels to the part that needs it.

The break ups, the separation, it’s all just a low between highs. Ones he finds far more addicting than the pills sitting in his pocket.

He begins tapping his cane on the floor, a restless rhythm. “I miss you.” His voice is deadpan as the words come out, and you know why. He’s being honest, his tone can’t betray how hard that really is for him. He leans his head back, letting it thud against the wall behind you in a way that makes you flinch.

For a moment, you wonder if he’s just saying what you want to hear.

You quickly remember who you’re talking to.

He lets his knee fall sideways, brushing against yours. It’s tiny, imperceivable, almost. If you weren’t so clued into everything he was doing, maybe you wouldn’t have noticed it. But you did, your eyes flicking down to the point of contact. It feels dangerous.

“I missed you too.” Your voice is shaky, quiet, pathetic. To you, at least. Most might see this as normal. A healthy display of vulnerability. You, though. This is hell. It is for him too. It’s also necessary. Maybe this is your twisted way of proving yourselves to each other, giving evidence to your devotion.

“This won’t end well.” He says, pragmatic as always. Cold, sensible. Too smart for hoping, waiting on change that’ll never come.

“I know.” And I’m here anyway. Words go unspoken, you’ve had enough honesty for today.

He sighs, and the noise is too tired. For a second fear settles in that you’re the one doing this to him. That trying to be decent. Trying to be suitable for a relationship is just too much for him to handle.

“Then why are you here?” He knows the answer, he’s not stupid. Maybe he just needs to hear it, and then he’ll get the common sense to tell you to leave. To give up on this, spare both of you the inevitable pain.

You sigh, the idea of having the explain worse than just letting the truth linger unspoken. “What if it works this time?” You know it’s stupid, and you know he’ll tell you just that. For a second you remember something your therapist told you. Insanity is doing the same thing over and over and expecting a different outcome. You’d rolled your eyes, told her this wasn’t anything like that. That people can change, you can change.

You stopped going to your appointments after that.

You just look at him, watch as he closes his eyes, running a hand over his face before looking to you. “For how long?” For a second, you think there’s hope in his voice, like he’s waiting for you to lie to him, say this can last forever. It probably will, you think. On and off for the rest of your lives, never stable.

“We can find out.” The words are an invitation, a reckless one. You’ll let him back in, and it’ll end poorly, and you won’t be able to be mad. You knew how this would go from the start, how can you blame him for the inevitable?

He looks to you, and you can tell he’s given up. It was always gonna happen, you wouldn’t stay away forever. No use in wasting time waiting.

“I hate you.” The words are empty. It’s his last ditch effort to push you away. He has to do it, he has to know he didn’t just let you in. Something in him has to hold onto the false belief that he doesn’t need this, that he’s indifferent. That he’s the same cold man he’s always been.

As he mutters the words he reaches out, his hand sliding over your jaw, pulling you in closer.

You smile weakly, rolling your eyes at the absurdity of the statement. You know him, you know when he’s lying, and he’s never done a worse job at it than he just did.

You’re hardly inches apart now, your lips nearly ghosting his own. Your voice is shaky as you speak, “Love you too.” As his lips brush yours, he just melts, leaning into you with a fervor he used to call lust. There’s no use pretending that’s all this is now.

The kiss ends all too soon as he pulls away, shallow breaths leaving both of you, filling the silence. You almost wonder if you should leave when his voice sounds, quiet, tentative, all things he’s normally not.

“I’m going to screw this up.” The look in his eyes is guilt for something he hasn’t even done. He will, but you ignore the nagging voice in the back of your head that says to run before he has the chance. Yes, he’s hurt you. It’s not as if you haven’t done the same to him. You know where to aim when you’re mad, and you’ve turned him to a dartboard more times than you can count.

“I’m okay with that.” For a second, as the words fall off your tongue so easily, almost instinctually, you wonder if your mother would be disappointed in you. This isn’t how she raised you. Offering some man a hundred second chances all because what, you love him? Because when it’s good, it really is so good?

Because at the end of the day, you don’t think you could do it. Leave him, live the rest of your life without him in it. You’d wonder, you’d always wonder what would’ve happened if you just gave him one more chance. And so you will, again, and again, and again.

Sometimes you wonder what your life would look like if you’d never met him. Maybe you’d be married, happy with some man who gave you far less trouble than House ever did. You curse the way you find the thought boring. He’s awful, but he’s thrilling. You might even have kids, or at least be ready for one.

You know deep down you could have a future like that, and still, all thoughts of it dissipate when he opens his mouth.

“I’m off at eight.” Self loathing drips from each word. He’s a selfish bastard, he’ll let you forgive him, and time and time again, he’ll know he doesn’t deserve it. Still, he can’t turn you down. He can’t leave. He can’t not have you. The one good thing that’s ever come out of his life. He just can’t. Not when you’re offering.

“I’ll be here.” The words are so horribly fitting. Won’t you always? Will there ever be a time he takes it too far? Or will you always go back to him? Will you always turn away from the better life, the happier life you could have without him?

Yes. It’s always yes, because deep down, you stopped wanting a life without him the second you experienced life with him. Everything else became boring, commonplace, once you’d had him. There’s nothing like House. Not a person, or drug, or liquor strong enough to come close to how he makes you feel. Nothing can make the memory fade, and nothing can replace it either.

There’s no good outcome, it’s either life alone or life with him. And so you let his fingers interlace with your own, let the sensation numb the thought that never left your head this whole time, the one that’ll haunt you on sleepless nights you spend in his bed, staring at the ceiling with his arms wrapped around you.

This is a mistake.

A/N: thank u to the taco bell fire sauce packet i quoted.

Pictures of Kimi Raikkonen that scream (your daughter calls me daddy too) and (the type of guy who would be polite to your parents after fucking your brains out)😩

@moss-on-tmblr more pictures that give of that vibe 🤭😩 @norrisleclercf1 @toasttt11 @reidsworld

Simon Riley who never gets mad at his wife. No matter how angry he is. CW : None. Pure fluff

Simon was practically fuming. First he'd been ordered by Price to train a group of new recruits, then, the young recruits decided to be a colossal pain in the ass, and to top it off, he'd missed his lunch break where he would normally have some respite by calling you.

So now, he was shouting at the recruits. More than usual. The recruits all looked dead on their feet. But Simon didn't care, they decided to be annoying little pricks. They needed discipline or they'd never make it in the military.

"For fucks sake, you mongrel! Run ten laps!" Simon roared at a recruit, the others looking nervous. Not wanting to be the next one to face Simon.

"Uh, sir?" One of the recruits squeak.

"What?!" Simon roared, the recruit pointing behind Simon.

Simon turned with a low growl, clearly not in the mood for anymore antics, only for him to look down and see you. His wife, in a pretty little sundress and holding a Tupperware container full of something. It didn't matter what was inside, his stomach was growling at the thought of your cooking.

"Swee'heart" Simon sighed in relief, his shoulders visibly relaxing and his arms wrapping around your waist. He relished in the squeak that came from you as he lifted you up and buried his face in the crook of your neck.

"You alright, big guy?" you giggle. Simon grumbling in agreement. Making you laugh again.

Simon set you down, barking at the recruits to find Price and that he'll be taking over the training, before walking behind you with his hands on your waist to guide you to his office.

"Si, if you're busy I can go" you offer, and Simon can barely handle how fucking sweet you are to him.

Simon shook his head, taking off his balaclava and sitting in his office chair. Pulling you to sit on his lap.

"Made you some cottage pie" you grin, opening the container in your hands and handing it to Simon. God it was still warm. "I thought you were gonna yell at me with how mad you were at the recruits"

"Would never yell at you, princess" Simon said, rubbing your hips as you fed him a forkful of the cottage pie. He groaned at the taste, making you giggle.

"good?"

"so fucking good, lovie. Needed your cooking after how shit today has been" Simon smiled, bringing your left hand to his lips and kissing your wedding ring gently.

⛧°. ⋆𓌹♰𓌺⋆. °⛧

btw guys I pulled white lily cookie and dark cacao cookie while writing this :p

Age Is A Number

Pairing: Fernando Alonso x Vettel!Reader

Rating: R

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

Words: 2.9K

Requested: Yes/No

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

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

"I'm sorry, what?"

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

----------------------------------------------------------------------------

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

---------------------------------------------------------------------------

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

summary: [ cs55, cl16, mv1, lh44, fa14, sv5, dr3, mwebber, jb22 x fem!reader ] three major kinks + a couple minor kinks for each driver

word count: 1.8k

content warnings: smut under the cut (minors dni pls!), pwp; i’m not going to tag all of these bc that would take 5ever BUT 1) everything is consensual & in the setting of a happy, healthy relationship & 2) dm me if you are needing any specific tw’s/cw’s & i’ll be happy to share those!

a/n: it’s been a hot, hot minute since i’ve had the energy to write (i was busy surviving my surgery core rotation at a level 1 trauma center & pediatrics at a major children’s hospital), but i’ve been brewing up a lil something for awhile now! i was stalling out on writing the last part of corsica, so i figured i’d at least give you this to get the juices flowing again! i started this blog about six months ago, & i’m nearly at 500 followers & i wanted to take a moment to thank you all! i love you so much and i hope you enjoy this! these are the kinks i think each of these drivers has! what proof do i have, you ask? absolute fuck-all! enjoy, loves! xx

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