SOMETHING WAGERED !!! JENSON B. X DRIVER!FEM!READER X SEBASTIAN V. (18+)

New Year’s Day

Greg House x Reader

A/N: you know when people say something is a shot of dopamine? yeah, this is the opposite.

TW: house going through withdrawals, you taking care of him. you can figure out what that entails. fluffy ending, if you can call it that. hurt/comfort for all my fellow enthusiasts.

“Don’t read the last page.”

You’d been on a date when he called. Stupidly, foolishly. As if you didn’t know it’d never work. As if you didn’t know he’d haunt you the whole time, a nagging voice in the back of your mind reminding you the man you sat across from would never be him. Mocking you, ridiculing you as you make polite conversation in a nice dress.

You really shouldn’t be into that. Despite that truth, you don’t dwell on the fact, there’s more important things to focus on right now. Like his weak, gravelly voice sounding from the other end of the phone as you stand outside the restaurant.

“I need you.” He sounds desperate. You’d be satisfied at the sound under any other circumstance, the tone so rarely heard from him. Instead it just makes your heart clench in your chest, your face fall in a look of heartbreak you wouldn’t have thought you could muster.

“I’ll be there soon.” The words fall out of your mouth as quickly as the twitch of a muscle, the thought going into them imperceivable to even yourself. Of course you’ll show, it’s House, after all. The second his voice hit your ears you didn’t have a fighting chance of saying no. He needs you, there’s no denying him.

You rush back into the restaurant, scrambling to pull a twenty from your wallet and sliding it onto the table, giving a haphazard explanation for your sudden departure.

“No, it’s not you.”

“No, you didn’t upset me.”

Fuck’s sake, this is annoying. His voice is pathetically hopeful as he calls after you. “Call me?” He asks, his eyebrows knitted upwards, his eyes glittering with something like awe. You pin it as lust.

“Uh, yeah. Sure.” Your lie was about as convincing as a kid elbow deep in the cookie jar, but you can’t find it in yourself to care. You were never gonna do it anyway, even before House called.

You walk out of the restaurant, weaving between waiters and bidding apologies you don’t really mean to the people you bump into. Your heart is hammering in your chest harder than it should be, you know what’s going on, even if the absolute agony in his voice scared you.

He’d been particularly on edge all day, an iron grip on his leg that’s only there when the pain is especially bad. Add an ever present sheen of sweat and the painfully obvious dark bags under his eyes, it wasn’t too hard to figure out from there.

He was withdrawing. Why he decided to up and quit you don’t know, but you suppose it doesn’t really matter now. He’s trying, that’s good enough for you. Good enough to keep holding onto the ridiculous hope he can actually change.

You white knuckle it the whole drive to his apartment, praying you don’t pass by a cop as you push down on the accelerator harder and harder, zipping through side streets far faster than you should. It’s stupid, you know. It’d be better to show up a few minutes later than the next morning with a new addition to your criminal record, but you can’t help trying to get to him as fast as you can.

As you reach his apartment building you come to a skidding stop, cursing as you lurch forward in your seat, immediately knowing you’ll have a neck ache within the hour. You get out of your car quickly, a string of expletives falling from your lips as the heels you’re wearing nearly make you trip on the curb.

You rush up the stairs to his building, knocking on the door and rocking on your feet nervously as you wait for him to answer. What if he’s unconscious? He could’ve passed out from the pain, hit his head. Or maybe he overdosed, or what if he-

“Fuck…” You whisper sharply as he opens the door, looking like hell. His clothes are clinging to his body with sweat, his hair damp and the circles under his eyes prominent as ever. He looks…haggard. Weak, as he leans against the doorframe, veins running up his arm that your eyes would be glued to in any other situation.

He rolls his eyes, stepping aside and holding onto his thigh tightly as he grunts in pain at the slight movement. “Thanks.” He mutters sarcastically, his voice gravelly.

You walk in with a guilty grimace on your face. You really hadn’t meant it like that, but…well, he looks awful. You turn to him, your eyebrows knitting up in a look of concern as he stands in front of you, his chest heaving with tortured pants as he blinks rapidly, keeping the tears forming in his eyes at bay the best he can.

“What can I do?” You ask quietly, trying not to worsen the migraine that’s probably wracking his head right about now. He just sighs through his nose, rubbing his temple and limping back to his couch.

“Nothing.” He answers, and it’s true. You can’t fix it. You can’t make the pain better. The only thing that would is drugs. So, you just opt for following him, placing a gentle hand on his shoulder that he quickly shrugs off, stubborn as ever despite the misery he’s in. Once he’s seated you walk into his kitchen, slipping off your heels on the way and grabbing a rag, running it under some water and ringing it out before returning to the couch, sitting down beside him as softly as you can.

As you swipe the rag over his forehead he leans his head back against the couch, his breathing shaky as he inhales through his nose. His jaw is clenched tight, a vein popping from his forehead as he keeps his eyes tightly screwed shut.

The silence in the room is stifling, but you’re not sure what to fill it with. Telling him he’ll be okay will just tick him off, and there’s no chance you’ll say some dumb shit like “just breathe.”

You can’t really do anything. All you can do is wait. Wait for him to need something, something he’s willing to put his pride down and ask for.

Suddenly he inhales sharply, a gasp more than anything as his whole body stiffens, his hand flying down to clamp over yours, squeezing it hard enough to hurt.

You don’t say a word.

“I know, I know.” You say softly, rubbing your thumb over his knuckles as he stares at the ceiling, breathing rapidly, heavily. His grip eventually eases up, the pain subsiding the tiniest bit. You expected him to pull way immediately, but he stays put, lolling his head to look at you, his eyes bloodshot.

“You were on a date.” He says tiredly, and you roll your eyes at the observation. He’s still House, even in this state. Always picking things apart, dissecting, watching, gleaning every bit of knowledge he can use to his advantage.

Again, you really shouldn’t be into that.

You laugh a little, shaking your head. “He was boring anyway.” For a moment you consider telling him more, trying to distract him, but he’s too smart for that. A story about a relatively uneventful night won’t be stimulating enough to distract him from the pain, not nearly.

For a second you consider the option that would be.

You quickly discard the thought. Not the time. Not the night.

He just nods, but you can swear for a moment you see the slightest smirk on his face. Like he’s pleased you didn’t have any interest. Relieved, almost.

Again, you discard the thought.

It’s not quite so easy this time.

Quickly his face morphs back into an expression of agony, his brows knit together, his breaths now coming out in shallow gasps. “What do you need?” You ask softly, stroking his hand.

“Bath.” The word comes out strained and you nod. You’ve heard of physical therapy patients using hot water for pain relief, so as you slowly enter the bathroom—House trailing behind you—you turn the water as high as it can get without burning him.

You turn around, and a silent question lingers in the air. It’s not like you can just leave him…but with your history? The constant flirting, the line that’s nearly been crossed far too many times for professionalism to remain. The gray area that’s grown far too wide.

“Come here.” You say softly, and for once in his life he doesn’t argue an order, just shuffles towards you and watches as your fingers slide up his shirt, his breath hitching in his throat as you pull it over his head.

The strangest part is, it’s not sexual in the slightest. Intimate, sure. Wildly so. But not sexual, not heated or lazy or rushed. He’s never been handled with gentleness like this. Movements this slow, touches this soft.

You’d certainly had a different image in mind for the first time you took his clothes off. Teeth gnashing, lips colliding messily, layers shed sloppily, hands roving freely. Still, there’s time for that. This isn’t it.

You unbuckle his belt, pulling it out of the loops slowly, the clanking of the metal the only noise beside his breathing in the otherwise silent room. A strained whimper leaves his lips as he has to lift his leg, followed swiftly by an apology from yours.

You avert your eyes as he sheds his boxers, focusing anywhere except, well…there. He leans on you as you walk towards the tub, helping him lower himself down into the water, a groan falling from his mouth as the warmth hit his leg. For a moment you think how’d he’d sound under a different circumstance, just how similar it’d be.

God, you’re awful. He called you over here to help him, not use his suffering to fuel your fantasies.

Then again, knowing him he probably wouldn’t mind. Quite the opposite, actually.

You snap out of it as his head hits the wall with a thud, a sigh escaping him as he feels a hint of relief for the first time in hours.

Without thinking you reach out, brushing away the hair that’s started to stick to his forehead from the sweat, letting your hand slide down the side of his face to rest at his cheek for a moment. A part of you thought he’d push you away, and not for a second did you think he’d do what he did. Lean in, slightly, the action impossibly minuscule. If you hadn’t been so tuned into his every move you probably wouldn’t have noticed.

You let your thumb slide back and forth over his cheekbone, testing the waters. He’s never once been like this. Been vulnerable in the slightest.

“Why’d you call me?” Your voice comes out all exhale as you finally ask the question that’s been dancing in the back of your mind all night. Not exactly his motives, those you can guess. He didn’t trust himself not to give in, not to just take the pills. Like always, he needed someone to temper him, keep him in check.

Just…why you? There’s always Wilson. Hell, even Cuddy. Sure, the two of you flirt, obnoxiously. Some might even call you friends. You’re not sure what to label it, you just didn’t think he trusted you this much. For him, showing a shred of weakness, of humanity. He might as well have handed you a blade to his neck.

He gives you a look that you can read like a book. A perfect mix of condescension and annoyance. “Hookers are getting expensive. I was hoping you’d put out.” He answers sarcastically, earning a smirk and an eye roll from you. As much as you pretend to be annoyed, you’re relieved to hear him acting like himself for a moment. Not so overwhelmed by the pain he can’t even think of a snarky remark, let alone get the words out.

“I’m outside your price range.” You respond, easing back into your regular dynamic. He smiles lazily for a moment before grimacing again, slumping further into the water, rubbing the palm of his hand firmly against his leg. You look down for a moment before quickly remembering there’s no bubbles in the tub. Just water, very clear water. You flush, looking back to his face with widened eyes, earning a cocky snort from him.

“Like you’d make me pay.” He grumbles out, his voice even lower than usual. You laugh slightly, shaking your head as you let your hand drop to his shoulder, your thumb rubbing gentle circles in the skin there.

You hesitate before continuing, not sure if he’ll ever give you a real answer. “Seriously, why?”

He sighs, and suddenly you can’t place the look in his eyes. Can’t read what he’s thinking. It’s new, it’s…soft. “You know why.” He answers simply, honestly. And the truth is, you do. Sure, you doubt it. You wonder if he’s ever actually cared.

Then again, this is House. If he just wanted sex, he would’ve gotten it elsewhere a while ago. There has to be another factor, another reason he’s still here. Still waiting.

With the way he’s looking at you, you’re starting to get a feeling you know what it is.

You hesitate, feeling a little bolder, a little more confident in your assumption as you ask, “Are you gonna say it?” Your voice is quieter than normal when you speak, a hint to the uncertainty that’s still there.

He pauses, his eyes raking over you, studying you, searching for any clue that you’re toying with him. Any tiny hint to trigger his walls to come up.

He’ll find none.

Eventually he talks, his eyelids drooping with exhaustion, the same thing working overtime to loosen his tongue, make him more human than he’s dared to be in the a long time. “Not tonight.”

You suppose it’s the best you can hope to get out of him, and so you just smile, soaking in the honesty you’re sure will be gone by morning. Your hand slides down to his that’s sitting on the edge of the tub, holding it gently.

“I’ll wait.” You say softly, watching as he smirks slightly, his eyes fully shutting, his breathing starting to even out. “Sap.” He mutters under his breath, earning a tired, amused huff from you.

And yet he can’t help but enjoy believing you.

“But I stay.”

A/N: my niche is writing the most depressing shit on the face of the earth and then sprinkling in a tiny bit of fluff and taylor swift lyrics to make it cute.

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!)

Soft ~ Fernando Alonso

♡ Fernando Alonso x Reader

Description: Fernando tries to surprise you.

~fluff~

You stretch as you wake up, reaching over for Fernando.

He's not there.

You mooch over and cling to his pillow as you wonder where he's gone to this early on his day off.

Then you hear a clatter from downstairs.

You idly wonder what your boyfriend is doing as you get out of bed and lazily get dressed in leggings and one of his t-shirts as the clattering is joined by some banging.

"Baby?" You call as you descend the stairs and make your way to the kitchen.

It's there you find a shirtless Fernando cursing in Spanish, his hair dishevelled and what seems like half the contents of the kitchen strew on the countertops.

"Cariño, no you can't see, it's a surprise." He tells you just before whatever he's accidently burning in the frying pan causes the fire alarm to wail.

More curse words fall from his mouth as he moves the frying pan aside and swiftly places a good morning kiss on your lips before turning off the alarm.

He sighs and looks around, "I did not mean to make such a mess."

"What is all this for?" You ask, closing the space between you two and trailing your hands over his tense shoulders and around to the nape of his neck.

He deflates into your touch, "Can I not do something nice for the love of my life without a reason huh?" He places a kiss to the corner of your mouth.

You practically beam at him, "Of course you can." You are rewarded with sweet kisses peppered over your cheeks, your forehead, any part of your face he could reach while he pulled your body flush to his.

"But you, Fernando..." You say, placing your own kiss on his jawline to get his attention, "...are a meticulous planner, so there is a reason."

"It's our anniversary." He admits.

"Our anniversary isn't for another two months." You argue.

He grins, "Not our first date. Of the first time I saw you."

You worried for the state of your heart as it melted at his words.

"And you mentioned last week that none of your exes had ever made you breakfast in bed." His eyes darken as if he wanted to hurt anyone who had ever hurt you, "And I wanted to prove to you, you deserve to be taken care of, you deserve to be spoiled. You are wonderful, you need to be treated right." He says with passion.

Panic overtakes his features when you tear up at his words.

"Happy tears." You whisper in reassurance, "I love you."

"I love you more." He says and lights up when you laugh at his trademark competitive streak.

"You are a big softie underneath that hard exterior Baby." You grin at him, after he places his forehead against yours.

He pulls away as if puffing up his chest and huffs, "I am not soft."

He sounds so affronted, it makes you laugh. "Yes you are. And I love it."

He jokingly looks around as if not wanting anyone else to hear, "Fine, but only for you."

"Of course. You're all mine." You say proudly, running your hand through his messed up hair.

"And you are mine." He confirms with a playful growl and one of his heated kisses that never fails to make you weak at the knees.

"But I think I should stick to driving and not cooking." He contemplates as he practically holds you up as you recover.

"Probably for the best." You nod. "It was the thought that counts anyway, so thank you."

"Anything for you, Cariño, always."

The Secret Seduction

Summary: Suspiciously, your dad’s best friend and business partner comes over a lot for dinner. You’re determined to get to the bottom of it, quite literally.

Request: DadsBestFriend!Toto fic plssss

Warnings: 18+, dad’s best friend-trope, smut, Soft!Dom!Toto, light choking, sexual teasing, cunnilingus (oral performed on female), degradation kink and praise kink, wrap it before you tap it, overstimulation, manhandling, daddy kink. 

Words: 2.9k+ (pure smut)

Keep reading

ride that like a Mercedes - t.wolff & l.hamilton

masterlist

threes company

requested: y but also n

pairings: Toto Wolff x fem!famous!reader & Lewis Hamilton x fem!famous!reader

warnings: not intended for minors + sexual acts mentioned(not very many details)

a/n: I’m back with another one of these! I was told by an anon that they loved my previous fic like this so why not create another?? there is also no crazy age gap between the reader, Toto and Lewis in this. shoutout @monzabee for helping me finish this! feedback is always appreciated xx

《 the following content is not intended for minors. 》

the roars from the screams and cheers break through your noise canceling headphones, the garage practically rumbles with excitement watching Lewis pull another podium. it’s thrilling, watching Toto pump the air and high five surrounding team members. everyone’s happy, including you.

you got the best view of the whole Grand Prix, Toto Wolff. sure, the fast cars and endless laps of excitement were what people paid for, but the view of him could never be tiring.

his white Mercedes dress shirt sleeves were bunched up from stress, glasses that he once was wearing were tossed to the side, and that crinkled smile was just everything to get a girl wet. and you’re one of those girls.

“good race to watch?” he asks, Austrian accent shinning through, he pulls you in for a side hug as you congratulate him on another successful race.

“it certainly was fun to watch.” you smile up at him taking in all of his features; the lines of stress on his forehead, the crinkles by his eyes from laughing or smiling, and those beautiful, oh so beautiful, brown eyes.

he bends down so only you can hear him, “I noticed that you had more fun watching me than the drivers.” he picks his head up from his whisper and moves along the team to Lewis and George to congratulate them both.

you’re struck, you thought you played your glances and stares off, but he saw them all. every single one of them Toto knew you were looking, and every time you weren’t looking, he took the chance to look too.

he knew tons of pretty women who were interested in him, and it wasn’t that they didn’t strike him, but they weren’t you. he’d been looking for someone that sparked something in him, and somehow you just did it.

its not until the lights are out and the night life trickles in when courage finally washes through you. you’re confident he feels the same way, so when you guide him to the dance floor and his hand naturally falls onto your hip, it’s all the signs you need. he wants this.

it’s not long until you’ve got the Austrian billionaire cornered in the private restroom, clothes flying every which way and raspy moans escaping left and right from both of your lips. it’s all good, he thinks he’s lost his touch after months of nothing, but the multiple orgasms tell him everything.

this felt better than a 1-2 win.

—

this is your home turf, modeling, runways, fashion shows, it’s all yours. you expected him to be here, you expected to see him, but not this soon. not after what’s happened two nights ago.

he’s got that gorgeous smile on his face, beautiful brown skin is glowing under the lights as he slips through the curtains to say hello to fellow models and makeup artists.

he’s always kind, always being just a sweetheart, it’s no surprise you find yourself in the position you’re in. your lips on his, hands roaming, nails dug into his tattooed skin.

he acts normal the whole show. claps when he needs to, looks when he’s supposed to. but you feel those eyes on you, they are just different than the way he looked at anybody else. you could see out the corner of your, focused, eyes he’s licking his lips before leaning to whisper something to George. it’s all making you anxious, you want to get off this runway, and just run away with him.

he gets you when everything is done. clothes you’ve modeled are back on the hangers, makeup is off, and you’re in nothing but bra and panties.

he takes the time to stretch you out, lips suck and pull your exposed skin. he sees the marks that the makeup did a good job of covering, and he just sucks over them and makes new ones where the other guy didn’t.

little does he know, the other guy? was his own boss.

hands !

Someone please tell me how I can clone 2013 Seb and proceed to marry him

Mick Schumacher's hands appreciation post?

Mick Schumacher's hands appreciation post.

Man-Flu ~ Fernando Alonso

♡ Fernando Alonso x Reader

Description: Fernando has a cold but you're there to comfort him.

~fluff~

"Cariño, I think I may be dying."

"Fernando." You say softly, running a hand through his hair. "Darling, you have a cold."

Nobody could ever say your boyfriend wasn't dramatic.

The team doctor had even been around earlier in the day to check on him. All there was to it was plenty of fluids and rest.

He sniffles, "It feels worse than a cold."

You try not to smile but he's too darn cute.

"It is not funny." He says with a pout, his Spanish accent heavily lacing his words.

"You're adorable when you have the man flu." You argue as you pull the covers closer around him. "You'll be fine I promise."

"I hate being sick."

You did feel for him. Usually he was the one in control, the one whose body dictated his profession, his life.

"I know. But how about you just let me take care of you?" You suggest. "Get some rest."

He makes an affirmative noise before an attack of sneezing starts.

You make sure he's comfortable in your bed before you get downstairs to make him some chicken soup and refill his water bottle.

You're rewarded by one of Fernando's smiles when you reenter you bedroom a while later with a tray.

"Still can't sleep?" You ask.

His chest rattles with a cough, "No. Not without you beside me."

Even sick in bed, the man is still a flirt.

You climb onto the bed beside him and cajole him into drinking some soup and more water.

You go to clear the things up and leave him to get some rest.

"Don't go. Stay here with me."

You only have to take one look at him to know you can't say no to the wounded puppy look he's giving you.

So you put the tray away and lie down next to him. It doesn't take long for him to wrap himself around you like a giant koala bear.

You lie on your back and his curls up on his side and slings an arm across your torso and hitches his hip over your legs and his face resting near your neck.

It doesn't take long for his breathing to even out and you can practically feel him drifting off to sleep.

You smile at the feeling, it took a long time before Fernando had been comfortable with the notion of being vulnerable with you. He had built his entire racing persona on being tough and harsh and unreasonable.

To eveyone else he was Fernando Alonso. But with you he was just Fernando.

You must have drifted off to sleep because its dark outside when you open your eyes.

You accidently rouse Fernando from his sleep as you stretch.

He mumbles something in Spanish you don't understand and places a kiss on your neck.

You place a hand on his forehead to make sure he hasn't got a temperature and is hallucinating. But you breathe a sigh of relief when you feel his skin and its not burning up like that morning.

"What was that?" You ask

Your sigh turns to something between a moan and a laugh as he trails his kisses up your neck to behind your ear.

"I said, how did I get so lucky to have you Corazón?"

You turned your head so you can look in his eyes.

"I'm the lucky one." You argue with a pout you know is his weakness.

He shakes his head and gently takes the hand you had checked his temperature with and places a kiss on the back of it. "I love you."

"I love you too."

Fernando smiles as if he's just been told he's won another world championship.

"Now, time for you to eat something and get a good night's sleep, you will feel better tomorrow." You tell him.

He shrugs, seemingly having forgotten his self pity party, "I already feel better with you here."

"Well, it's a good thing I'm not going anywhere." You tell him and seal your promise with a kiss