𝐏𝐀𝐃𝐃𝐋𝐄 𝐓𝐎 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐌𝐄𝐓𝐀𝐋 – 𝐒𝐕𝟓
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.
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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
More Posts from Pleaseultraviolenceme and Others
I know you have but can you tell more about the brothers teaching her how to drivers or the paddock bunnies ?
he's sooooo
your brothers had given up trying to teach you at that point. the reason being; that they loved you too much to let you be a hazard to yourself. you're not manning the wheel in any circumstance, and being driven around.
lewis decided to teach you though.
so one day, you find yourself perched on his lap and he's coaching you through the ride, "you don't need to press your foot all the way down, baby... " he instructs you, manning the wheel as you reach down to step on the gas hesitantly.
"lewis!" you shriek as you felt the car jolt, and he only chuckles, pressing a kiss on your shoulder.
"don't be scared, you can do it dovey." he hums, "i'm here."
Sebastian Vettel where you’re Mattia Binotto’s daughter (you’re in your mid twenties). Including prompt 34 and 55.
I’m thinking 2020 Seb where he’s probably quite frustrated with Ferrari which leads to him taking it out on you. Maybe in Mattia’s office on his desk. You’ve been into Seb for a while (bc who wouldn’t be??) and let him do whatever he wants to you.
okay yeah, you get me. // prompts: “take it like a good slut.” + “gonna ruin all that pretty makeup”
It hurt to see him like this.
Everyone knew that this was his dream; driving the red car, wearing the red suit, winning a championship for the team he loved so much and yet, they failed him. Sebastian had broke the news that he was leaving Ferrari and headed to Aston Martin come 2021 and it was safe to say, it caused a stir in the team.
You had no idea Seb was thinking of leaving; you knew he had mentioned it but you didn’t expect it to go so quickly.
It wasn’t until the Friday post practice that you bumped into the man in the hallway. “Hey,” you smiled at him. Sebastian stopped to say hello, giving you a hug.
“Packed your bags already?” You joked, earning a smile from him. “Kicking me out so soon?”
“If it were up to me, you’d be here until you win and win and win, and everyone is sick of you and that stupid red car.”
“Don’t say that about the car,” he told you, “it’s not her fault.”
“Yeah okay,” you hum.
Sebastian was quiet for a minute, “what are you doing here? You aren't one to hide from the madness.” he laughed and you shrug, “wanted to see how you were doing.” You admitted to him, “I think things haven’t been easy.”
The man looked at you, something about the way you looked at him was undeniable. There was something between the two of you, even if neither of you admitted it.
Sebastian grabs you by the waist, pulling you to him. Your hand flat on his chest, balancing yourself. “Seb,” you mumbled and his blue eyes find yours.
“What?” He leans in to kiss you, lips ghosting over yours. “I know you feel it too.”
Your hand rests on his jaw, closing the gap between the two of you. Sebastian’s hands wander down to your ass, your body pressed flush against his. You could feel his hands wandering a bit more but you stop him before it goes too far.
“Not here,” you mumbled and he grabs your hand, pulling you through the first door he finds. You’re on top of the desk before you could complain.
“We can’t,” you whisper to him, knowing that even if the door is shut, it’s unlocked and anyone could walk in at any given moment.
“No one is coming, baby.” He tells you, his hand snaking further up your thighs. His fingers brushed against the lace under your shorts.
“Let me take this off you, hm? Want to see how pretty you look.” He says, helping you take them off.
Your shorts in a pile on the floor as you sat on the desk in front of him, legs spread and his face buried between your legs. Your fingers tangled in his curls, pulling him closer as his tongue lapped over your clit, his hands pushing your closing thighs apart.
It was taking all of him not to bend you over the desk and fuck you until you scream his name but you know, decorum is needed; this was still a workplace.
Your grip on his hair tighter than before, his name strung along with the explicits leaving your mouth. “Sebastian,” you call, your hand on his cheek.
He glances up at you, his blue eyes finding yours; him between your legs was a sight you always loved to see but right now, you needed him.
“What is it, baby?” He sits up and you lean forward, grabbing his face. Your lips against his, “fuck me, please.”
Your cheeks are red when you see him sit up, the lower half of his face glistening. You also can’t help yourself when you pull him down for a kiss, tasting yourself on him. Seb doesn't waste any time, he pushes your legs back, pulling you to the edge of the desk by your legs and he settles between your legs; one pulled over his shoulder and the other around his hip.
He pushed into you, one of his hands over your mouth to keep you quiet.
Your eyes find his again, your hand wrapping around his wrist when he slips two fingers into your mouth.
You feel his hips dig into the back of your thighs, he leans down, lips against your ear when he moves his hand from your mouth. “Keep quiet, pretty girl. Take it like a good slut.” He kisses along your jaw, “you wouldn't want them to find us, hm?”
You find your body betraying you, hips bucking towards Sebastian, his hand gripping your hip to hold you in place.
He's in charge and you both know it, letting him set the pace; slow and steady and it was driving you insane.
Seb pulls his fingers away, wiping his hand across your bare chest. “God, please Seb, like that,” the words tumble out, begging him for more as he fucks you. His hands squeezing your hips, nails digging into your flesh.
“Gonna ruin all that pretty makeup, hm?” He leans down to kiss you.
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."
mick schumacher during wec testing in portimão, portugal - december, 2023
you wear white (and I’ll wear out the words I love you)
{sebastian vettel x fem!reader}
in which sebastian insists on following some wedding rules before you get married.
written for the kiss challenge - 🤍 milestone / wedding kiss; i also couldn’t let seb’s birthday pass without a fic!
warning: fem!receiving oral, multiple orgasms, overstimulation, slight hints of squirting.
He’s not supposed to see you in your wedding dress, so he wears a bandana over his eyes - one he repurposes from his racing days. It’s knotted securely at the back, sitting squarely atop his curls that have been somewhat tamed for the occasion. He knocks gently on the door, and peeks his head in, making you giggle.
“Seb,” you chide, “you’re not supposed to see me now. It’s bad luck.”
He points to his bandana, waving his hands haphazardly as if to illustrate his point. “I’m not seeing you, liebe. But I wanted to check in to see if you’re okay. That you’ve not run away. Again.”
You laugh, drawing him into the room by his sleeve. “When have I ever run away from you, Seb?”
He holds up fingers as he counts. “Well the first time I asked you to marry me, you turned the brightest shade of red and took off running in the opposite direction-”
You click your tongue at him lightly. “We were six. And you did it in front of the whole damn class - I wanted to die, Seb.”
He grins, as if cherishing the memory. “Oh but I knew then, didn’t I? Six year old me was gunning for us even then. Or… okay, what about that time you hid in my closet and refused to come out?”
You squeak, feeling the mortification creep back in. “Your parents weren’t supposed to be home! Christ. I swear they knew though. I had to climb out through the back window. Almost broke a leg because you thought it was a good idea to leave school early and make out in your bedroom.”
He chuckles, and comes closer now, his hands instinctively finding your waist. “Or what about last night, hm?” His voice dips low, and your skin tingles from the slight rasp you can hear in it. “Was trying to make you feel good, but all you did was squirm away each time.”
Your cheeks flush hot now. Last night had been a whirlwind. You’d been nervous - not nervous to marry him, of course - of that you were so certain. But there was just this profoundly unsettling feeling inside you, this whole stretch of a lifetime commitment that made you want to throw up. You’d second-guessed everything - whether you were too young to marry - too impulsive - whether it was you that Seb really truly wanted, or whether he’d eventually grow bored with you - whether love could really last an entire lifetime, rather than fizzle away like you’d always seen in every other relationship you’d ever known.
Seb had just held your hand and listened. He’d understood entirely. “I don’t care about getting married,” he’d said, with a levity that surprised you.
When you’d raised your eyebrows at him, he’d offered quietly, “it’s just a piece of paper, liebe. It doesn’t change what I feel for you, or how I want you in ways I can’t even explain. Do you understand?” He’d touched your face, brushing your cheek tenderly with his thumb - a gesture so loving that you couldn’t mistake the affection contained within him for you. “I couldn’t… you couldn’t ever be found lacking in my eyes, sweetheart. I love all of you. Every bit. New. Old. The ugly and the beautiful - every part. I love it all.”
It’d been the sweetest thing you’d ever heard, and it made you want to cry even more. Instead you’d kissed him and held his face in your palms, whispering how much you needed him, and wanted him, and he’d given in and growled, rolling on top of you and putting his hands along the delicate parts of you that ached for him.
He was adamant in getting you off, latching his mouth between your legs and keeping his hands on your hips. “So good for me, liebe,” he’d murmured, calling you his favourite term of endearment these days - love - between filthy swipes of his tongue, as you came with the combination of his fingers and mouth working you into a boneless mess. But he wasn’t done yet. He’d continued to suck at your clit, fingers searching inside for your gspot until you’d bucked up into his touch and he’d groaned, as if he were the one that was being catapulted into a second orgasm. You’d called out his name until it’d echoed off the walls, and he’d been pleased with that, pulling his face away. You stared, fascinated by the glistening wetness of his beard, the mischievous, pleased look on his face.
You’d pulled him up to you, wanting to be face to face, but he’d been unrelenting - content to stay between your legs to lick up all the mess you’d made. You’d been so sensitive already, so your thighs shook when his tongue pressed along your slick folds, eventually finding its way inside you again, his thumb circling over your swollen clit and you’d cried out and shifted away, certain that it was too much stimulation, that you couldn’t possibly come again, but he’d known you could take it, of course.
“You still got one more in you, liebe,” he’d said as he kissed your thigh, and brought his mouth back to your cunt, until you were sliding fingers into his hair, wrestling against the feel of how good his mouth was, writhing, begging him please. The third orgasm that hits feels almost blindingly good - you have to shove his face away so that you can recover from the onslaught. You’re rendered speechless, just endless shivers into the sheets and guttural, broken sounds.
He’d let you lay in a boneless heap in the bed, the sheets under you wet. Seb had stood up, adjusted himself in his pants, where he’d been hard, and it looked almost painful. “Seb,” you’d said, reaching for him, “take off your-”
He’d given you a lopsided smile. “Sorry, darling. Heard it’s bad luck to fuck before a wedding.”
You sputter with indignation. “But I… you…” your eyes drag all over the (surely uncomfortable) bulge in his pants. “Seb… I want to-”
He’d merely leaned over for a chaste kiss on your cheek and a wink. “You better rest, liebe. You’re getting married tomorrow, after all.”
The delicious memory of last night is still fresh in your mind, and your heart swells with so much fondness for your groom standing in front of you now, bandana over his eyes. “How are you feeling, sweetheart,” he asks, the worry evident beneath the trace of teasing in his voice.
“I’m fine,” you reassure him, unable to resist taking one of his hands in yours and squeezing it. “No cold feet, I promise.”
Seb’s smile lights up the whole room at your touch, and he looks so perfectly handsome in his suit that you can’t help it - you pull him close until your lips touch his. “I love you, Seb.”
He doesn’t hesitate to murmur it back to you, the words a searing promise of eternity. Seb’s lips are unexpectedly soft, and his surprised noise when you kiss him is everything. He melts into the kiss, his hands slipping from yours so he can hold your face to kiss you even deeper. More than any rings or vows - the kiss feels weighty, binding you to him without end, filling you with an assurance that you’re doing the right thing - that he’s always been the right one for you.
You could kiss him forever, if not for the ceremony awaiting the two of you. He makes a disappointed sound when you pull away, not willing to ruin your lipstick.
“Is that allowed?” He grins cheekily, as if there were a wedding rule book that he’d wanted to follow to the letter. “Is this kiss not bad luck as well?”
You laugh, unable to resist tearing off his bandana to look into his beautiful eyes for the first time all day. He blinks, mouth agape in mock horror, unable to resist letting his eyes trail all over the sight of you in your wedding dress. He wants to say something, but he’s struck dumb by how beautiful you look, and so you pull him back for another kiss - wedding rules and all superstitions be damned.
—
I’ve wanted to write a wedding!Seb fic for the longest time and it finally materialised here, and on his birthday too. Thank you @percervall for giving me a chance to write about Seb like this: exploring the anxieties of a lifelong commitment. and of course I couldn’t resist putting in some fem!receiving oral because what else do i write honestly.
In case you didn’t realise - yeah this is still your girl ivy, writing filth. I’ve just changed my @!
love, ives {previously kostasstsimikass} 💛
feel free to send me a request for more kisses! And if you wanna read more of my writing - here’s my masterlist!
make a wish, huh? i wish i wish with all my heart for reader to have pissed off her daddy dom in the field. so as a punishment she has to sit on this big man’s shoe while he does paperwork. cockwarming him with her mouth until he decides no matter how bad she’s whining and needing him, that she can rock and get herself off. but only if she listens to him. if not? if she’s a brat and she’s being really really needy?? i do believe that causes for a spanking, don’t you? over his knee, skirt rolled up.. you know. just a wish 😈🙏🏻
Knees | Dom!Aaron Hotchner
The Secrets We Keep (a Bunny and Clyde story) - Blurb
Pairing: Dom!Aaron Hotchner x BAU/sub!Reader
Words: 2k
CW: 18+, nsfw, mdni.
Tags/warnings: master!hotch, bunny!reader, established D/s relationship, cockwarming, oral (m receiving), pet names (bunny).
a/n: when Morgan asks for something, you give it to her.
Disclaimer: YOU DO NOT HAVE PERMISSION TO REPOST MY WRITING ANYWHERE ELSE WITHOUT MY CONSENT. REBLOGS ARE ENCOURAGED THOUGH. YOU MAY NOT FEED MY WORK TO ANY AI DATABASES OF ANY KIND OR TO USE MY WORKS TO TRAIN AI. FUCK AI.
You swallowed and his entire body tensed up under you. He hissed in disapproval, his darkened gaze almost searing a hole through yours. You couldn’t help it, saliva had been pooling in the corners of your mouth for a few minutes and it was either swallow or let it drip down your throat. And let’s be honest, the latter did not sound as naughty as the former. You knew how he’d react, knew that his cock would twitch at the slight change in pressure, knew that he would know what you were doing.
You didn’t let his stare scare you. Instead, you returned your own — round, innocent eyes that glistened with tears. It wasn’t that he was hurting you, on the contrary, he was giving you something that you craved yet it was a punishment that he knew was sure to make you lose your mind. His cock in your mouth, warm and heavy on your tongue, thick and hard against your throat. Unmoving, still, agonizing.
He’d asked you into his office the second the last agent had left for the night. You knew what it was about, knew what awaited you the second he locked the doors and closed the blinds. And fortunately for you, it had not been the professional reprimand that you’d thought.
Unfortunately for you, he had made you strip completely, only allowing you to keep your panties. The cold air made your nipples hard and your skin erupt in goosebumps. He led you down on your knees, your pussy landing on his expensive leather shoe. He was calm and collected as he rolled his desk chair further into his desk, caging you against the wood at your back and his wood at your front.
“Open,” he commanded, and fearing any more repercussions after your major, his words, mild, your words, fuck up in the field, you eagerly did as he asked. A hint of a smile graced his lips as he watched you, an overwhelming sense of pride and satisfaction burning through his body as he unbuckled his belt. It was painfully slow and you were overly eager as you realized what he was commanding you to do. You were about to reach out to help him speed along the process when his eyes darkened in warning, your hands immediately falling against your sides.
“Color?” he asked, a hint of cockiness in his voice startled you.
“Green, sir,” you replied, the implications of your consent not yet clear.
“Good,” with that he sprung his cock free from his underwear. He was already semi hard, the tip glistened with pre cum and you couldn’t help but salivate at the excitement. “This is not a treat, bunny,” your eyes met his again before he continued. “You are going to take me in your mouth but you may not make me cum, am I understood?”
Oh no. Aaron knew how much you loved to give him head, how you reveled in watching him come undone by your skilled tongue. It was one of the first things he’d learned about you, one of the things he couldn’t believe you liked doing. Which is why he knew that every fiber in your body would light up in protest. You wanted to scream, argue, throw a tantrum — but you didn’t. Instead you simply nodded solemnly. You had done this to yourself and there was no one else to blame.
“Yes, sir.”
“Good girl,” he praised and the excitement in your lower belly went up in flames again. “You will be a perfect, still angel until I finish my paperwork, and then we’ll see if you’ve earned the right to get yourself off on my shoe.”
“Thank you, sir.”
And with that he rolled his chair all the way into his desk, one hand around his cock, the other grabbing your chin and pulling you where he wanted you. The movement made your pussy graze against his rough laces and you had to stop yourself from moaning. You could already feel your wetness start to pool and he’d literally done nothing yet. His fingers pressed against your cheeks and your mouth opened on its own, wide and eager, as he placed a third of his length on your tongue.
You could’ve started crying right then and there, but you didn’t. You would not let him break you that easily.
“Do you remember how to safe word, bunny?” He asked, he always asked.
You nodded, making your tongue rub against the underside of his length. You tapped his leg once. Yes. “How do you tap out?”
You tapped his leg twice and he rewarded you by patting your cheek, gently at first, but then his pats turned into soft smacks, right against the tip of his cock inside your mouth. He groaned loudly, the sounds slowly making you lose all sense of self as you felt him twitch inside your mouth.
“Fuck, bunny,” he moaned. “This is going to be a long night.”
And long it was. You had lost track of time. At first you decided to count the seconds, minutes, hours, whatever to distract yourself from moving, from what you actually wanted to do. But it was impossible. Your arms had wrapped around his leg to hold yourself steady, your legs had started to wobble and so you’d given up and fully sat yourself down on his shoe.
You were gone, your brain wasn’t working anymore. All you could think about was the weight of his cock in your mouth and how much you wanted to move. Move your tongue, move your head, move your hands to wrap around his base, move your hips to give yourself some kind of relief.
You swallowed again, this time accidentally, and because of your miscalculation, your flat tongue grazed against his length, making you roll your eyes back in euphoria. You didn’t register as your hips started moving, as your pussy made contact with the rough, uneven surface of his laces, as your wetness drenched his shoe. Your clit grazed against a buckle and you moaned, loudly. That was the final straw.
Without a word of warning he rolled his chair out, his hands quickly grabbing you under your armpits and effortlessly lifting you from under the desk. Your mind snapped back to reality in an instant. Glazed eyes turned sharp, numbness turned responsive, daze turned into realization. You were about to apologize, to beg for forgiveness, to let the tears fall when he sat you down on his lap, your legs on either side of his own.
“Sir—”
His palm landed with a smack on your ass, the sting making you whimper. You had learned early on that there were times when he was so overwhelmed that he couldn’t bring himself to verbalize his commands. Instead, he’d gotten into the habit of turning them into action. A single spank was a warning to be quiet, to save whatever groveling — he wasn’t going to listen to it.
“When I give you a command, I expect you to follow it,” he said, anger lacing every word.
“I’m sorry,” you breathed, your head hanging low avoiding his gaze. “I didn’t mean it—”
That made him snap, his right hand landing another smack against your reddening ass as his left tightly grasped your jaw, pulling your head up to face him.
“Like you didn’t mean to go into that apartment without backup?”
He was concerned, so much in fact that it was the easiest you’d ever been able to read him. You knew he’d been concerned for you. As your boss, you knew he cared for you. But as your Dom…that was a whole different story. You’d done your best to compartmentalize, to trust the other in your skills and training, to accept that you would both be put in scary situations when out in the field. But right then and there, you knew, you saw. He was terrified.
“Yes,” you breathed, the heavy understanding of your punishment washing over you like ice cold water. “It will not happen again. Sir.”
His eyes bore into yours, searching, but you knew what he would find. You cared too. It wasn’t like you had planned on going in without backup, it was that you both understood that the job came first, that whatever instinct made you follow through, no matter how reckless, had probably been for the best of the case. And as much as you both knew, if it made him feel more comfortable to remind you to be careful in this way, you would let him do it every single time.
“Good girl,” he praised, his lips hovering over yours teasingly. “I think you deserve a treat, don’t you?”
You nodded rapidly, making him smirk. You reveled in it, in his smile, in the warmth that was seeing him experience happiness in whatever form it might take. He gently guided you back to your knees in front of his chair and your eyes lit up.
“Make me cum, bunny,” he sat back down, legs spread open like inviting you to a buffet, chest rising and falling, his white button up straining with each breath.
You wasted no time getting to work, your hands quickly wrapping themselves around the base of his cock. He was still a little slick from your saliva, but it wasn’t enough, so you reached one hand down your panties, fingers eagerly collecting your slick before you slathered it all over his rock hard erection.
“Jesus Christ, bunny,” he groaned as your hands started to move up and down his shaft. Moves calculated, perfectly pressured, expertly avoiding his needy tip. Pre cum started to leak once more and that’s when you couldn’t hold back any longer. Your tongue darted out on its own volition, eagerly rolling around his tip, hungrily drinking him all in. He moaned loudly, his hand wrapping around your hair and pushing you further down against his length.
You let him, flattening your tongue and opening your throat as you swallowed more and more of his length into your mouth. He stopped at your hand, letting you work your magic then. You wanted him to cum, needed to feel his spend down your throat. Your hands sped up their movements, meeting your mouth sloppily as you bobbed your head up and down to meet them at the base. You continued to roll your tongue around his length as you sucked in your cheeks, tightening around his cock. You could feel him tense, his moans becoming louder and louder, his breathing uneven, his heartbeat aggressive.
“I’m close—” he didn’t even manage to finish his sentence as you removed your hands and took him the rest of the way down your throat. His chest erupted in an animalistic groan as the tension snapped and he spilled down your throat. You moaned at the feeling, at the power that you had over this beautiful man in front of you. As much as you wanted relief of your own, there was nothing more satisfying than having him spill down your throat, than having him come undone by your tongue. The tears finally spilled as you kept him there, patiently waiting for him to finish before you pulled yourself off him. Your eyes locked onto his as you swallowed, making a show of it.
You were both breathing rapidly, both stuck in a pocket of time where nothing else but the two of you existed, both completely satisfied in your own ways. He ran his hand over his face then, breaking the spell, knowing that if he stayed any longer, he’d say something he’d regret. Instead he took in a sharp breath and placed himself back into his pants before he reached out to help you to your feet. He led you back on his lap and this time he cradled you, warm hands running all over your cold body. You hummed against his chest, your own hands tightly grabbing a hold of his suit jacket.
“Don’t you ever scare me like that again,” he murmured before he pressed a kiss to your temple.
“Yes, Master.”
idk if i'm "back" yet, but here's my offering to you on this saturday. but mostly bc i wanted to fuck with morgan while she's busy and can't do anything about it.
tags: @ssamorganhotchner, @criminalskies, @callm3c0nfus3d, @xladyxdreamer, @gr3enflowers, @lilyviolets, @howabouticallyou, @shadowmemory, @simp4f1, @honeylovemoon, @powerlvr25, @formulapierre, @spenciesprincess, @extra-trash77 (if i missed anyone please let me know!)
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
YOU ALWAYS REMEMBWR YOUR FIRST 😭😭😭
SHUT UP
Quality Time
Summary: Long hair Kimi. Braids. That's it.
Word Count: 1.1k
A/N: Nonnie set my brain on fire yesterday and I already spend so much time thinking about Kimi with long hair, it was just natural that we would end up here eventually. This is set pre-togetherness if you're reading in chronologicalish order. Find the rest here.
She’s between emails when he finally cracks the bathroom door. Leisurely as ever, he steps back into the common area in a puddle, a towel draped haphazardly around his waist. Her fingers pause over the keys at the sight of him. A bead of water is dripping along the adonis belt she’s not convinced he’s earned the right to.
Focus.
She lets out a sound, clicking away at the keyboard to distract herself as he moves closer. From the corner of her eye she spots him reaching out. Past her. Laura lets out a breath, letting her gaze drift back to her inbox.
“Busy?” Alongside his raspy voice comes the crinkling sound of plastic. Before she can answer him, an ice cream cone is stuck beneath her nose.
“Very. Cleaning up after you is a full time commitment.” Laura looks up, tone biting out at the hand he’s offered her.
Her voice falters at the sight of him. The butterflies she’s been holding down seem to fly up into her throat. Fuck.
“What’d I do now?” He smirks down at her, lips spreading into a grin as he bites his ice cream cone.
“Nothing. Yet. I’m trying preemptive damage control.”
“I’ve been very good.”
“You’re eating the ice cream you got for me.”
“I like vanilla too.” He bites the ice cream again.
“You do not.” Laura swallows the butterflies in her throat. She does not at all mind the sight of his tongue swirling around the cone.
“You were being mean.”
“Was not.”
“Here, then.” He sticks his hand out again, a pitiful bit of ice cream left. Laura looks up at him sharply, watching closely as he licks at the bit that’s smeared on his lip.
“Keep it.”
He shrugs and—before she can catch herself, she glances down—catching the towel on his waist as it shifts beneath the movement he’s made. Double fuck.
“If you’re not busy,” He turns away, back to the freezer. “Would you?” He shakes his head lightly, sending beads of water flying through the room.
“Again?” She’s done it once already today, before free practice.
He turns to her, an ice cream in each hand this time. One for her, and another for him. His face is expressionless, as if he can’t believe she’d ask.
“Wet or dry, then?”
“Dry.” Obviously, his tone seems to whine.
Leaning across the couch, Laura sticks out her hand, waving her wrist as she waits for the bribe. Grinning from ear to ear, he tears open the plastic wrapper before setting it gently in her hands.
“Go get everything then.”
“Too hot?” She’s holding the hairdryer by its barrel, sweeping it over his head as she runs her fingers through his hair, weakly jealous at how fine it is.
He hums beneath her, his head shaking slightly., licking at his ice cream like a man in paradise as she dotes over him. Holding her own between her thumb and forefinger, Laura runs her pinky finger through his hair. She tussles the crown of his head gently, fanning the damp hair across the back of her hand as she works the dryer across it. It’s quick work, for hair so fine, but when he feels her pull away, his head rolls back. Resting against her leg he looks up at her, a frown starting at the corner of his mouth.
“It’s dry!” She bites at the ice cream cone, voice defensive.
Bringing a hand up, he grabs at her wrist, dragging her fingers down to the nape of his neck. It’s damp still, but barely.
“Kimi, seriously.”
“Laura, seriously.”
Fumbling with the dryer, she sets it to cold, delighted when he squeaks at the sensation. Pulling away from her, he lurches forward, doubling over himself as he shivers.
“Fuck, kultsi.” The sound is muffled by the towel as he speaks into it, shaking slightly still.
“Hair ties, please.” She pops the last bit of cone into her mouth and sticks out her hand, wiggling her fingers as she waits. He leans back slowly, hand trembling for dramatic effect as he places the plastic ties in her palm. “Thank you.”
She’s slower than this morning, taking her time as she parts his hair down the middle. She gave him french braids earlier. He claims to enjoy the feeling of them better beneath his helmet. With extra time now, and no car in sight, she has the freedom to practice her dutch braids.
Using her pinkies, she parts the hair for the first sections, sweeping the hair of his temple backward into her grasp. Beneath her, Kimi hums.
Speaking through the hair tie she’s holding between her lips she checks him. “Too tight?”
He hums again. She relaxes her grip, her wrist going slack as she lets up. No response. Better, then. She starts again. Pinkies out as she sweeps his hair back, over and over again. It’s sloppier than her french braid, that’s for sure. The raised hair is off slightly, one of the strands thicker than the others.
Grunting in frustration, she lets out a few knots.
“It was good.” Kimi tilts his head back, resting against her thigh as he looks up.
“You can’t even see it.” She mumbles down at him.
Wordlessly, he lifts a hand and reaches backward, tracing over the braid until he meets her hand at the halfway mark.
“Looks good.” She can’t quite see his face, but the quirk of his lip is practically verbal. A blush threatens to creep across her cheeks.
“You’re so annoying.” She’s out of breath as she says it, trying not to open her mouth as she laughs down at him.
“You love me.”
“I tolerate you.”
Kimi hums again, this time sounding mildly annoyed. Laura smiles, lips spreading into a grin as she winds a tie around the braid that rests just above his shoulder. Dragging her fingers through the other side, she gathers herself to start the process over again, resigned to the butterflies that are all but flying around her head like a cartoon as he shifts between her legs. I’m so fucked, she thinks as his cheek sits on the inside of her thigh. So fucked.
I could request the double life of the reader, one as an agent and the other as a camgirl. Hotchner is a follower but they won't realize it until they travel on a case to an area where it's hot and they see a familiar brand.
By the way, I love your writing. 💖😊
anon i love you. take my hand in marriage RIGHT NOW.
It's You | Sugar Daddy!Aaron Hotchner
introducing--
The Secrets We Keep (a Bunny and Clyde story) - Part One
Pairing: Sugar Daddy!Aaron Hotchner x BAU/cam girl f!Reader
Words: 3k
CW: mutual masturbation, sex work (is real work), power imbalance/play.
Tags/warnings: master!hotch, reader works at the bau and is a secret cam girl, hotch is a customer, pet names (bunny, sweet girl), perv!hotch, mutual masturbation, hotch being a little mean.
a/n: yes, oh god yes will this become something I can already taste it. catch me writing another insanely long D/s series about these two because I AM IN LOVE.
Disclaimer: YOU DO NOT HAVE PERMISSION TO REPOST MY WRITING ANYWHERE ELSE WITHOUT MY CONSENT. REBLOGS ARE ENCOURAGED THOUGH. YOU MAY NOT FEED MY WORK TO ANY AI DATABASES OF ANY KIND OR TO USE MY WORKS TO TRAIN AI. FUCK AI.
The first time that he noticed a similarity he thought he’d officially lost his mind.
Maybe the sleep deprivation, insurmountable amounts of stress he was under, and the fact that he had yet to have his morning coffee were all working in tandem against him.
It had been a complete accident. You’d been walking towards your desk in the morning, in a foul mood and you didn’t care who saw it. You’d set your bag down on the wooden counter but accidentally miscalculated how close you were to it and slammed your foot into the metal leg that separated them.
A yelp escaped your lips, high pitched, painful, sexual. His ears had perked up immediately, his brows scrunching together as he tried to remember where he’d heard that sound before. Realization struck him like a truck running him against a brick wall.
No, there was no way, his brain was being absurd, he was being absurd.
The day wrapped him up in a tornado of meetings and he’d almost forgotten about the incident earlier in the day, but then he received a notification late at night, after he’d returned home from a long day at the office. She was online, his favorite, perfect girl.
Aaron had never been one for porn, never really saw the appeal of overly produced, almost veering on fake sexual content. He’d met his wife in high school, he was never in need of searching for something that he already had.
But after Haley passed away and he became increasingly frustrated with the idea of having to put himself out there and date someone else to get the intimacy that he desired, he’d bitten the bullet and signed up for one of the many sites that Morgan had not so subtly been recommending for the past few months.
To think that his colleague could tell he was so sexually frustrated to the point that he’d began dropping hints about it had made him more embarrassed than signing up for the site.
The first few times that he used the site were…interesting. Getting past that wall of righteousness he’d put up around himself was difficult. He wanted, no, needed release, craved it in a way he’d never felt before.
He’d go from stream to stream, curious, trying to keep an open mind. But nothing really spoke to him, nothing really made him excited to engage, to stay longer than a few minutes, to touch himself.
And then he’d found her, bouncingbunny1, or Bunny as she went by for the customers that paid enough to be in her inner circle.
She was beautiful in that girl next door who was secretly naughty way that he hadn’t realized he was so attracted to. Always clad in delicate pink lingerie, never showing her face, even when he’d finally gotten over his fear and paid for a private session.
It was easy to fantasize, easy to let himself go and allow the soft cadence of her voice, the filthy sounds of her moans as she touched herself for his pleasure and his pleasure only, making him come undone in minutes.
He’d learned something dangerous about himself then, a desperate need to dominate, to control, to have power over someone in such an intimate way. Watching this delicate woman come undone by his orders, his commands, his instructions on how he wanted her to pleasure herself was more satisfying than anything he’d experienced before.
Now, months later, he could confidently accept that this had been one of the best decisions he’d ever made. Sure, he spent as much money on her as he did on rent every month, but it was honestly worth it. He had an insurmountable amount of access, she’d told him as much on their nightly conversations.
It wasn’t just about release anymore. He found himself talking to her, texting and calling, whenever she was online and he needed her. There had been a few instances where they’d closed a particularly tough case and all he needed was to hear her voice, but she was unavailable.
But she made up for it with messages filled with those silly kissing face emojis, telling him that she’d make it up to him later that night. And he never questioned it, never even found it odd that sometimes those moments happened to coincide with them being stuck on the jet or pulling a late night of paperwork at the office.
He had no reason to think anything of it, no reason to ever even begin to think of the possibility that it was you…that it could ever be you on the other side of his screen. You, his subordinate, his teammate, his friend who he adored and cherished and thanked the universe every day for your patience, kindness, love.
Even with the slightest possibility, the smallest sliver that it could be you—
user1102: Bunny.
bouncingbunny1: hiiiiii Master 🤭🥰🩷💖😚
user1102: Can we play?
Bouncingbunny1: yes sir
He smirked to himself, immediately calling. He never showed his face or his body. The only indication that he was real was through what he allowed you to hear. That was another thing that he’d noticed about himself, how deep and sharp his voice could get when he allowed himself to be free.
You answered the call immediately. You knew he didn’t like to be kept waiting and you couldn’t contain your excitement every time he called you. He was the only reason you were still doing this, even after finishing college (debt free), after getting through the academy and getting the job you’d been desperately working towards all your adult life – he had come in and kept you wrapped up in his orbit.
You’d started working at the BAU almost a year ago. They were down an agent and you’d been brought in to train for the position. The transition had been stressful, something that you were accounting for but not to this degree.
You had taken a break from camming in preparation for the adjustment period, taking your time to see if you would even want to return to it or if it was a closed chapter in your book.
But you’d returned home one night after a particularly grueling case, with so much pent up energy, so much bratty energy that the only way that you knew how to get it out in a healthy way was to put on a show.
You’d spent the next few hours with your bluetooth vibrator inside you, a pretty baby blue lingerie set over it, cumming over and over and over and over again as the people watching paid to make the device go faster and faster and faster.
That’s when you first met him, user1102. After the first hour was up and you were practically hanging on to your couch for dear life, he’d told you he’d pay five hundred dollars if you took a break, if you drank a full glass of water for him on camera to show him you were taking care of yourself.
And so you did, everyone else in the chat respecting the decision, albeit annoying as it was, since they all understood that money spoke volumes and they were not in the market to try and outbid whoever he was.
You didn’t recognize him from your usual clients which meant that this was the first time he was seeing you, and what a night to start indeed. He kept coming back after that, every time that you were able to find the time or needed to find release, to clear your mind of the day’s events.
He was always a big tipper, an even bigger flirt, always made sure to send public and private messages while you played live, always said hello and goodbye.
You’d squealed loudly when he finally requested a private session and made sure you looked extra good for him. He was perfect, even if you had no idea what he looked like, and these sessions became more and more frequent to the point that you’d almost stopped performing for other people.
You were sitting in front of your couch on the cold wood floor, a fluffy towel under you. He could see a few toys off camera and a large water bottle that he’d gotten you next to them, clearly just in frame for him.
“Hi bunny,” he groaned, his hand already wrapped around his cock.
“Hi Master,” you whimpered, already feeling spacey and out of it. It was always like this with him, easy to slip, to submit, to simply allow your brain to think about following his instructions.
“Someone’s eager,” he mocked and you immediately knew what he was talking about. It was crazy to think that you were so attuned to him, to where his mind was. It filled you with warmth every time that you could anticipate his thoughts, his needs, his desires.
“Prepared,” you whined, offended. “I always make a mess when we play and I’m tired of having to mop my floor.”
He chuckled, hand tightening around himself. He never had to work to get hard when he spoke with you, the mere thought of getting to play, as you liked to call it, enough to get him going.
That’s when he noticed it, a small band aid on the side of your foot.
“What happened to your foot, sweet girl?” he asked, his heart beating uncomfortably fast, blood practically shooting up to his ears and his cock.
“Oh…” you started, a little afraid that he’d punish you for not being careful. “I bumped it against a chair today.”
He came harder than he’d ever had that night just by the mere thought that you were the one letting out those addicting noises, that you were the one coming undone because of him, that you were the one writhing, shaking, panting, so completely at his mercy that you’d quite literally do anything for him.
You were in god awful, swampy Florida. The summer sun was unforgiving, the cozy, long sleeve you had chosen for what you believed would be a long day at the office doing paperwork was definitely the worst clothing choice as the humidity practically clung to your body.
You wanted to scream, wanted to punch something, wanted to take it off and not worry about flaunting your practically naked breasts to everyone around you. Anything to get rid of the burning heat that trapped your body.
You were practically a walking puddle when you made it back to the station, practically bolting to the bathroom in a cloud of smoke. Morgan couldn’t help but chuckle, he’d been teasing you about it all afternoon, especially after he’d urged you to change and you had refused because you were sure you’d be staying inside with Reid in the comfort of the air conditioned building.
Aaron couldn’t help but notice your mood. You weren’t normally this grumpy. You were usually the one making sure he stopped frowning. He gave you a moment and then followed behind swiftly.
You stepped into the women’s bathroom and immediately pulled your shirt over your head, tossing it aggressively over the sink. You stood there, heaving, allowing the cold air to seep into your body, to have it calm you down, ground you.
Aaron was about to knock when he saw the door slightly ajar and he immediately stilled, his eyes landing on your topless body. It was too similar, you were too similar, his brain now desperately trying to find similarities between you and her.
You were wearing a cupless white lace bra, one that he could’ve sworn he’d bought you only a few days prior. You hadn’t worn it yet, at least not to his knowledge, which meant you must’ve just gotten it in the mail.
It was overwhelming to say the least. He couldn’t continue going on like this. He needed to know.
He pulled out his phone, discreetly lingering outside of the women’s bathroom, always glancing around to make sure no one could see him.
user1102: Bunny, I need you.
The second his thumb pressed send his gaze shot up to you once more, waiting to see your reaction. As much as his Bunny would sometimes tell him that she couldn’t play right that second, she’d always, without fail, answer his messages within seconds.
He could see your attention shift from the mirror in front of you to your phone for a second as you slid your new shirt over yourself. His gaze sharpened, his cock twitched in anticipation, his breathing hitched.
But instead you pressed one key and brought the device up to your ear, your soft, steady voice muffled by the distance between you. He sighed deeply, in defeat as he looked back down at his phone, his message unanswered.
“Are you okay?” he almost jerked back as he heard you address him, concern lacing your voice. You were right beside him then, those round, doe eyes of yours that he loved so much wide and worried.
He could simply nod, enough to satisfy you and yet not give you even an ounce of understanding into what was really going on.
You all made it to the hotel later that night. He had quickly checked you all in since you were all about to drop. It had been a very long day to say the least and all you really wanted was to take an ice cold shower and go to sleep.
“Alright,” he addressed the group. “Rossi, room 702, Reid and Morgan, room 705, JJ, room 806, Emily and–” his eyes met yours and he immediately lost his train of thought for a second before he handed the key cards to the raven haired woman beside you. “Room 807.”
He stepped back. “I’ll be down in room 604 if anyone needs anything. Back at the lobby at seven.”
With that you all shuffled towards the elevators, like a horde of zombies. You had been true to your word, practically cold plunging yourself in the shower and proceeding to put on some shorts and a baggy t-shirt to sleep in.
Emily took the shower after you were done, your plan being to throw yourself on the bed and pass out immediately. But as luck would have it, your stomach practically screamed at you to feed it.
You sighed deeply, crossing the room to see if room service was still open at the late hour only to realize it had just closed. You groaned in annoyance, the brat peeking through, your body starting to crave a different type of relief.
Luckily there was a vending machine down on the sixth floor, so that’s where you found yourself, irritatingly making the trek down. The elevator doors opened directly into the hall with the vending machine and you practically came face to face with an equally tired Aaron, clad in his own gray shirt and loose pajama pants.
You bit down on your lip, approaching him slowly. He saw you the second the elevator doors opened and it made him angry that he just knew it was you. There was something so specific about the air whenever you were around, it always felt lighter, smelled sweeter.
“Hungry?” he asked as you approached and you nodded.
“I’ll have whatever you’re having,” you replied and he leaned down to pick up the prepackaged sandwich he’d just gotten for himself.
Your hand wrapped itself around the almost phallic, plastic wrapped item, his gaze slowly falling down your body until it landed on your chest. To say he visibly tensed up was an understatement.
You frowned immediately, stepping forward, into his personal space, your own eyes searching for his but they were glued to your shirt. You looked down at yourself, concerned that maybe there was something on it that had offended him. It was rowdy, but nothing to write home about which only confused you further.
“My college friends used to be in a band,” you explained, trying to lighten the mood. “They made like three of these shirts,” you laughed, clearly remembering fond memories. “Anyway, it’s silly and stupid, I know, but I still have it.”
He knew, he knew all of that, because he’d once called her– you while you were still in your pajamas, wearing that very specific shirt. You’d told him that same story, with a few more details of course, but still.
There was no denying it now, no way to twist the truth, no way to unknow what he now knew for certain.
His own hand pulled on the sandwich and your frown only deepened, as if the gesture itself had cut you so deep, had broken your heart so painfully.
“It’s…uh– option three, sorry, I have to…” he was down the hall in record time, his heart pounding, his cock practically rock hard against his abdomen. He needed to calm down, needed to take a minute to compose himself, needed to get back to grab his phone so that he could—
user1102: Come to my room.
The message confused you even more than Aaron just had. You were in no mood to deal with anyone, even the man you had made you feel more alive than you had in years. That’s when you noticed you hadn’t replied to him earlier, but whatever guilt you were feeling quickly washed away as anger settled in.
Who the fuck did they both think they were?
bouncingbunny1: ???
user1102: 604
The color drained from your face in an instant. No, it couldn’t be. There was no way, your brain was being absurd, you were being absurd.
user1102: Now, bunny.
You gulped loudly, shaky legs somehow managing to lift carry down the hall. The bright light of the hallways almost sobering you up. Were you seriously about to do this?
At worst you walked over to his door, knocked and he stared at you confused and you’d just have to live with the embarrassment of coming up with a lie. At best…at best he opened the door and dragged you into his room, pressed his lips to yours, and finally gave you the satisfaction of fucking ruining you like you’d wanted your boss and user1102 to do for so long.
You didn’t even get to lift your hand to knock on the door before it swung open aggressively and he stepped into your personal space, his tall, broad frame towering over you.
“Oh, bunny,” he hummed. “Didn’t anyone tell you not to go looking for the big bad wolf?”
“No, Master.”
this was TOO SATISFYING TO WRITE I LOVE IT SO MUCH. it was crazy to go from soft boy mr. hotchner to just...insanity and power and control and i love how this turned out.
y'all better fucking FLOOD my inbox with asks for them.
tags: @xladyxdreamer, @ssamorganhotchner, @canuck-eh
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