-ˋˏ✄┈┈┈┈

You are on a very important dinner and you are sitting right in front of him, you take off one heel and start rubbing him (maybe angry him afterwards?) + Seb

okay this - I was gonna do RBR Seb but maybe AM Seb cause he’s got more patience and is more fun to fuck with it :) 

Tonight was the big dinner with the sponsors. The last of the pre season events before the car launch. You were sat across from your husband, Sebastian, watching as he spoke to the man next to him - he was there on behalf of Oakley from what you gathered. 

Your heels were squeezing your feet so you slipped a foot out of the shoe, the feeling of relief on your face. Your leg stretched out, heel of your foot resting on Seb’s chair, between his legs. 

Seb glances over at you, smiling at you before turning back to the man. You started talking to the woman next to you, she was telling you about her children - what an exciting topic, you thought to yourself, hint the sarcasm. 

Boredom was hitting, your foot shifts and presses against his dick. Seb shifts in his seat, his hand dropping under the table to wrap around your ankle as you moved your foot slowly. 

You weren’t looking at him but you knew he was throwing glares at you - if looks could kill.

Your husband was a man of patience, you see it everyday.

He was level headed, he’s cooled down since his RedBull days but sometimes you missed it, missed the aggressive side of him, the side of Seb that would do anything and do whatever he wanted and put his everything in racing no matter what it took or who it hurt in the end. 

You knew it was selfish of you to want that back but you loved that side of him - the excitement of watching him fight his way to P1 drove you up the wall, not the mention the mind blowing sex you’d have after he won or got pole position.

Seb’s hand squeezes your ankle, harshly pushing your foot away from him. Your brows furrow, biting back a smile as you look over at your husband.

He didn’t say much to you for the rest of the night, mingling amongst the sponsors while you were off saving Lance from a boring conversation. 

The two of you were at the bar when Seb comes over. “Can I borrow her?” He asks Lance, already taking the glass from you and setting it on the counter. 

“Sure,” Lance’s brows furrow as he lets Seb pulls you off. 

You and Sebastian were outside, the man walking you over to the car. “You think that’s funny?” He asks, you were confused. 

“What?” you look at your husband, pinned between him and the car. 

“Your foot- you think it’s funny to get me hard in the middle of dinner?” 

“No, but I was bored.” You smile sweetly at him. Seb’s patience running thin- maybe he'd finally break. 

“Is that so?” He asks, turning you around so you were laying over the hood of the car. “Should I fuck you in the middle of the parking lot because I'm bored?” He asks you, your dress bunched over your hips. 

“Sebastian!” you scold him, looking over your shoulder at the man undoing his belt. 

“What ?” He asks, already lining himself up with you.

Before you could complain about anyone seeing you two, Seb pushes into you, your body flat against the hood of his Aston Martin. 

“You like this hm?” He calls to you, a hand pressed to the middle of your back, “knowing anyone can walk out and see you like this?” 

how lucky we are to live in a world where tiramisu exists

heyyy i’m not saying we want but WE NEED a sequel to dad’s best friend!mark webber i have not been the same since, maybe them secretly continuing to hook up or maybe he’s picking her up from a party again aaahh i really do need it

ly ✌🏻

hi babe! it's not often that I get a request for mark so obviously I had to write this one <33 -- kinktober: dad's best friend + mark webber -- tw: age gap (reader is over 20!)

The sound of his phone blaring woke him up, his arm stretched out to find the phone without opening his eyes. "Yeah, hello?" He says when he finally finds it.

"Oh thank god you picked up." The person on the other side says and suddenly he's a little more awake. "Y/n? Is everything okay?" He asks, pulling the phone from his face to check what time it was; 4:15 in the morning.

"Yeah no, I'm at this party and I need a ride. Everyone else is drunk and I didn't drive, my friend did but I can't find her and I don't wanna take an uber cause it's late."

Mark was already out of bed, searching for his shirt in the darkness when he hit speaker on the phone. "Yeah I'm coming, send me your location and I'll be there soon."

--

You were sitting on the curb of what looked like a shitty frat house when Mark pulled up. He winds down the window and honks, you look up and get up when you see him.

It was pretty chilly outside and he tossed you a sweater when you get in the car. You drape it over your legs when you get in the car, "I'm taking you to my place, figured you don't want your parents finding you coming in, especially since you smell like a brewery."

"Yeah, thanks." You tell him, picking at the chipped nail polish on your finger.

The drive back was quiet, the windows were cracked a bit and the fresh air was sobering you up the rest of the way.

"I'll leave some clean clothes for you in the guest room," he says and he can't help but notice how you smile drops at the mention of the guest room.

"You're welcome to stay with me, if you want."

"Can I?" You ask and he hums, gesturing for you to walk towards his room. You sit on the edge of the bed as he digs out a shirt for you to wear. He hands it over to you and you get up, turning around and it doesn't need to be said, he knows; Mark reaches for the zipper on your dress and pulls it down.

His eyes fixed on you as the black dress falls to the ground and leaves you in your underwear. "I like those," he says, making his way back to bed.

You had already pulled the shirt on when you got on the bed. "Yeah, cute aren't they?" You chuckle, crawling up the bed to sit on his lap.

Mark's hand rests on your hip, rubbing it softly. "You're not tired, darling?" He glances at his phone on the nightstand, "it's nearly 5."

"Not really," your finger dragging down his now bare chest. "I've been thinking about you." You whisper to him and his brows furrow, "is that so ? When do you think about me?"

"Like when I'm touching myself," you mumble and Mark flips you two over, you're flat on your back looking up at him.

His hand wanders down between the two of you and your back arches, a little whimper slips past your lips when you feel his fingers push into you. "Can you do it like that?" He asks you quietly, watching as your face twists with pleasure.

"Mhm, only you can." You tell him, one of your hands wrapping around his wrist as he curls his fingers. You spread your legs a little more, squeezing his wrist.

"Mark, please," you breathe, eyes meeting his. "Please what darling ?"

Between the way he was looking at you and the way his fingers were moving, you were barely able to get the words out. "Fuck me," you mumble and he smiles.

"That's my girl."

king of my heart requested!

toto wolff x ex!driver!reader

( Ok hear me out... Toto Wolff with a ex driver reader (first female driver maybe in redbull or Ferrari but retired) and she knew toto back when he was racing and she was racing and they liked each other but never confessed

Fast forward to now where she's been invited by (redbull/ Ferrari ) and idk somehow they reconnect )

In the heart of the bustling Formula 1 paddock, where speed and ambition were matched only by the relentless buzz of the media, Toto Wolff stood by the Mercedes garage, his delicate dark brown eyes scanning the sea of people moving about. It was another race weekend, but this time, there was something extraordinary in the air. He had received a message that someone from his past was back in the racing world. A name he hadn't heard in years: Y/N

You had been a trailblazer, a pioneer in a sport dominated by men. You were the first female driver to ever compete in Formula 1, but your career had been cut short due to an unfortunate accident that left you sidelined. Yet, you had never truly left the world of racing. You had become an advocate for women in motorsport, working tirelessly to break down the barriers that had kept so many talented females from reaching the pinnacle of racing.

As Toto watched the cars zipping by on the track, a voice called out his name. He turned to see a familiar face in the crowd. It was you, unmistakable with your beautifully tied hair and a smile that lit up the paddock. Toto felt a rush of emotions he hadn't experienced in years.

"Y/N," he said, his voice filled with a mix of surprise and delight.

"Toto," you replied, a hint of nostalgia in your voice. "It's been so long."

You embraced, the years melting away as you held each other. Toto couldn't help but remember your time as fellow drivers, the camaraderie you had shared, and the unspoken connection that had always simmered beneath the surface.

You walked through the paddock together, catching up on each other's lives. You had taken a break from racing to focus on your advocacy work, and your efforts were starting to bear fruit. You had even received invitations from both Red Bull and Ferrari to collaborate on their initiatives to promote diversity and inclusion in motorsport.

Over the course of the weekend, Toto and you found yourselves spending more and more time together. You attended team meetings, watched races, and shared meals. It was as if you had never been apart, and yet, there was a certain tension between you two, a question that lingered in the air, unspoken.

One evening, under the starry sky of the Grand Prix city, Toto and you found yourselves alone on a rooftop terrace, overlooking the glittering lights of the city below. The moment felt right, and the words spilled out.

"Y/N," Toto began, his voice soft but resolute. "There's something I've never told you."

You turned to him, your eyes curious and expectant. "What is it, Toto?"

"When we were both racing," he said, "there was something more than just friendship between us. I never had the courage to say it then, but I… I cared for you deeply."

Your eyes widened, and a smile played on your lips. "Toto, I felt the same way. But we were young, and the world of racing was a different place back then. We never got the chance to explore what might have been."

Toto reached out and took your hand, your fingers interlocking. "Y/N, the world of racing is changing now. And maybe it's time we explore what might have been. If you're willing."

Your eyes sparkled with a mix of emotion as you nodded. "I'd like that, Toto."

As you leaned in to share your first kiss, the city below continued to glitter, and the echoes of your past merged with the promises of the future. In a world where speed and ambition reigned supreme, your love story was a reminder that some connections, no matter how long they've been dormant, are simply meant to be.

in another universe, you were a good dad; someone i could be proud of

Do you know anyone else who writes for the older drivers? Wanting to find new reading material

i know a few :/ but here’s a list of some works for the older drivers that i’ve been reading by some very talented people! i’ll try to keep this list updated :)

@norrisleclercf1 has some mafia works withh older drivers that are amazing!!

death of a bachelor series by @astonmartingf

the kids are going to be alright by ^

fernando alonso

complicated by @unsolvedjarin

sebastian vettel

about you series by @drvscarlett

history series by @vettelsvee

grid kids series by @pucksandpower

mrsvettelsgarden by @vivwritesfics

padawan learner by ^

the race that mattered by @lorarri

glory days by @uluvjay

a shared history by @lucyrose191

jenson button

do i wanna know? by @formulafics

tis the dilf season by @beiasluv

tell it to my heart by @lovelytsunoda

mile high club by @bellewintersroe

only way by @starlost97

sweet sugar by @natailiatulls07

something devoured by @agendabymooner

you can’t disappoint a picture by @angsthology

i’ll always want you by @vinvantae

promiscuous boy by @libraryofloveletters

corny by @unsolvedjarin

womaniser by @sv5hive

mark webber

early mornings by @loonylupinblack3

light by @maxillness

vacay by @sweeterlovers

a new term by @whorekneecentral

the problem with following orders by @agendabymooner

brand new by @embrosegraves

nico rosberg

lost in the moment by @mynicosensesaretingling

lewis hamilton

do you remember it all too well by @leclercsainzz

bedtime stories by @alwayschoppedtaco

kimi räikkönen

thawed by @pucksandpower

don’t beat yourself up by @faithshouseofchaos

Between Rivals - Kimi Räikkoönen

Request: hi I was hoping you could write something with kimi maybe? Fluff/slow burn whatever you choose. Like how they start dating. He makes the first move. Reader is also a driver with ferrari. They are similar behavior but maybe reader is little bit more open then he is.

Slight edit in request: Yeah that's fine but then maybe keep the reader in rb maybe? Cuz I want kimi and her to have more competition in terms of racing too. Also when u post the final fiction can u keep me anonymous?

Thanks!!

Obviously going to have to alter Red Bull's performance in 2007 since they weren't competitive. But I think I can manage it. Also to anyone that doesn't know Kimi is my favourite ever driver, like I'd pull him back kicking and screaming if I could. The Iceman literally has my heart.

Just for context I'm not giving a specific age, but an age range in mind for writing this, driver is out of her rookie year so we're going like 23-25 years old (Kimi is 27). You choose within that space (or don't up to you tbh). We're also going to feature the iconic Alonso-Hamilton teamwork.

When Red Bull announced they were bumping up the Toro Rosso rookie and only female driver on the grid to a Red Bull seat for 2007. People were pretty shocked to say the least.

She'd performed well in 2006 and got a couple good point finishes. But nobody expected to see the rookie be immediately pushed up into the more competitive team.

People have rioted about her quick promotion and progress into a seat they apparently feel other driver's are more deserving of.

Mark Webber hasn't been the warmest towards her either, because apparently he is a believer in the idea that she simply hasn't proven herself enough. And now she's got the like of rookie Lewis Hamilton who is in an amazing performing McLaren.

To avoid saying something that might reflect badly on her, she keeps quiet when the press conferences happen and often she's not even listening. Which is how she found herself being poked by a surprising person but the only one who seemed to be in reach to pull her back from her thoughts.

"They are asking you." Kimi states quietly seeming amused at the fact she'd ignored the journalist and then not even noticed when they repeated the question.

"Oh-OH, oh sorry. Could you say that again?" Y/n asks leaning into her mic while noticing Kimi laughing a little.

Y/n answers the boring question that honestly is just another attempt at tearing down her character, her abilities as a driver and if she believes she is capable of getting a podium. Since they have yet to see her stand up there, though she has made the top 5 a couple times and gathered decent points in accordance to Christian.

As the press conference is called to an end, the first group leave and y/n finds herself walking side by side with Kimi.

"I saw you laughing at me. Do I take that as a compliment or as an insult?" Y/n asks figuring that while it's unlikely a friendship with one of the most notoriously quiet and probably the hardest to befriend if he hasn't already decided he wants to befriend someone.

"Bwoah, they shouldn't ask questions they know we don't want to answer." Kimi shrugs while she sighs softly. "They always ask stupid questions."

Y/n nods then managing a very weak smile which seems to earn some sympathy.

"Don't let them get to you. You are the one driving on the track. Not them." Kimi states before Y/n's name is called making her smile weakly.

"Thank you." Y/n sighs earning a short nod before he watches her jog off to the Red Bull media team who called on her.

-

Y/n sighs cracking her knuckles as she sits in the car, getting buckled in as they all ready themselves for the race.

By some miracle and a badly timed rain storm in qualifying. Y/n has managed to get P2, only behind Kimi in P1.

"Radio check." Her race engineer states into her ear.

"Loud and clear." She confirms before shifting ever so slightly. Not that there's a lot of give now she's all seat belted in.

Y/n gets a pretty amazing start. But what she does expect is for the McLaren's to have an even better start then decide to sandwich in on her and close the door. Not only knocking her out but both of themselves too.

However it's her car that flips when it digs in the gravel, though thankfully being airborne it flips back the right way up.

"Ah fuck. Ah." Y/n pants undoing her seatbelt and tossing her steering wheel in a moment of rage, her radio unclipped before they can ask if she's ok and get an answer. Instead she's already out pulling off her helmet and balaclava to try and ease the ache of her lungs in having been winded.

It's only then she realises how far away she ended up from the other two cars.

The safety car is out as she is aided by the medical car that was immediately on the scene since it was only the first half of the first lap.

"I'm ok. I'm fine." She dismisses but they insist on checking her over in the medical car and driving her to the medical centre.

All three drivers find themselves in the medical centre, and both McLaren drivers find themselves turned away by her trainer when they attempt to apologise. Though she notes they both come to her separately with their apologies since it turns out she's got bruised ribs and a mild concussion from the impact.

Eventually she finds herself in the media pen and the journalists are practically jumping on each other to get to her.

"Y/n! How are you feeling? We've already spoken to Fernando and Lewis. They've admitted they were at fault and have regrets over the injury they caused to you."

"Y/n, you had a few drivers worried. Kimi Raikkonen asked about you a few times before they called for the red flag and then his trainer was spotted at the Red Bull wall talking to Christian."

Now that was news. And surprisingly news at that.

"All I can say is that right now I'm not in a place to accept apologies from either of the other drivers involved and I need to rewatch the incident from different angles to learn and figure out how to not get tangled in other teams pretty pathetic feuds." Y/n states without apology. "Thank you."

And like that she's gone. Her mind not exactly in the right place to be redirecting itself onto the Finnish Ferrari driver. But it drifts that way anyway.

"Was Kimi asking about me?" Y/n asks as she walks with her trainer who laughs a little handing her a water bottle.

"Yes. He was. A few times to my knowledge."

"Ok."

Y/n ends up in the debrief room with her half of the team reviewing things with her and talking her through how it was entirely beyond her control and if this were to happen again, she still could not avoid it.

"Hey, golden star. How are you feeling?" Christian asks making her sigh softly a little.

"Bruised ribs, mild concussion. But I'm fine." She states earning a frown. "I could've had this podium with the strategy."

"Don't dwell on it."

Easier said than done and Christian knows it.

-

Y/n didn't mean to make it her mission to track Kimi down before he left but she did manage to catch him and smile brightly as she walks alongside him.

"Oh no." Kimi murmurs while she grins at him.

"I heard you were quite worried about me."

"I saw you on the screen. It was a bad crash and they were idiots." Kimi states making her hum before she nods a little.

"That's true." Y/n smiles then sighing as she walks. "It was actually nice to hear that someone was concerned. I know drivers aren't really meant to be all that caring towards each other, but for you to send your trainer to the pit wall and ask. It's not very Kimi of you."

"Maybe you don't know me enough to say that." Kimi shrugs making her feel like she may have just completely insulted the Ferrari driver. "Would you like a ride to the hotel?"

Y/n blinks in shock almost retracting pure out of being caught off guard.

"That'd be great, yeah." Y/n nods, though she has her own car there. Really she probably shouldn't be driving with a concussion so getting a lift is definitely wise. "You know, I haven't eaten either. I could do with some company getting something to eat."

"Food sounds good."

And just like that, suddenly the two were arranging an unofficial date.

What y/n didn't expect was for the date to continue to her room and while they didn't have sex, Kimi ended up dancing his fingertips around the purple hued bruises.

Y/n felt a type of peace and comfort that was the last thing she expected as a form of ending her day.

-

Between races y/n and Kimi spent quite a bit of time together and had fell into a quick dynamic with each other in that by the next race weekend after a two weekend gap. Y/n is more than happy walking in with her hand linked to Kimi's.

It's pretty safe to say the rumours that were circulating after her race crash, have suddenly been confirmed. Despite not actually being true when the initial crash and pushing to know if y/n was ok occurred.

There's some messiness in at the free practices, and Q2 is cut short when Mark crashed on his flying lap. Making for a red flag.

But eventually she finds herself in P5 for the race start. Kimi is P3 in front of her.

She already had a chat with Christian, talks about the risk and what could happen as a result of her dating Kimi. But he has told her that if she wants to date him, technically he can't stop her. She was warned to not let her feelings effect her race pace or her moves on Kimi.

It's already something her and Kimi have agreed to never hold what happens on the track against each other. Though the exception would surely be if they were involved in something like in the last race.

After a radio check, it's just a waiting game to get on with the formation lap and the race. So when they've all refound their starting positions after the formation lap,

The strategy is right, and y/n manages to get herself in a podium position within the last 5 laps. She just has to fight off Mark behind her and possibly shoot for P2. But that means fighting Kimi.

And actually the battle between the three almost comes at a cost, but Mark gets team orders to stop fighting her in the last two laps to give her a chance at focusing on fighting Kimi since they have faith her in not caving in.

It's half way around the last lap she dive bombs him and finally takes the P2 and after that she's trying to rocket past him, foot to the floor and throttle down.

Crossing the line she's actually screaming, though no one can hear her since her radio isn't on and she's just completely beyond excited about it.

By the time she gets to parc ferme, the Red Bull team are cheering and hollering before she even gets to them but she's lifted off her feet by the mechanics chucking her around and yelling in victory. It's not a win, but it's the second best thing to a win and that's all they need.

"You are our golden star, y/n." Christian shouts making her beam before she pulls back and sees Kimi with Ferrari who are cheering and congratulating him before she moves over to him and despite his hatred of such public affection he does manage to scoop her up in a hug and hold her tightly.

"I thought I had you, you caught me off guard." Kimi states once their helmets are off and they're moving into he cool down room. Something that is a new experience for her.

"This is so cool." Y/n states making Felipe look at his teammate since the young woman is clearly too easily impressed by the cool down room.

Y/n smiles as she lifts her helmet to block the view of the camera and kisses Kimi before dropping it again and moving when they are called to get out on the podium while Kimi flushes slightly over the young woman's actions.

They get out with Kimi going first in his usual calm demeanour, then y/n comes bounding out waving he hands encouraging the Red Bull cheers before she stands up on the podium in a more behaved manner. Though the camera does capture a moment of Kimi smiling and admiring the young woman in her celebration.

After the anthem both Felipe and Kimi make the first podium for y/n special and completely soak her nearly using both their entire bottles as they leave her quite literally dripping in champagne and sort of blinded by the fizzy drink as she tries to wipe at her eyes.

They manage to guide her to take a mouthful of her own champagne before Kimi takes her hand and helps her move from the podium. Another moment the cameras are happy to capture.

Watch What Happens | Day 29: Candles

carlisle cullen x f!reader x charlie swan

Rated E | 5k

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

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

He’s hard to resist.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

The softest tsk as he chides you.

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

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

But no more than that.

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

———

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

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

A loop, ebbing and flowing.

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

He’s not, and the car keeps going.

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

You frown, “As a person?”

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

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

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

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

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

So you glance, where he’s smiling.

“I like him, too.”

You blink, “Yeah?”

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

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

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

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

How you’ve thought about that, too.

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

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

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

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

———

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

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

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

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

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

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

But Carlisle is right - as he always is.

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

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

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

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

“Fine with me.”

———

He’s warm beneath you.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“God, just look at you.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

If he wants to watch you beg, you will.

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

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

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

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

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

“Is she warm, Charlie?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“You want me to take care of you?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“I know just what she needs.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

And so, you do.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Anytime.”

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

lowkey I wanna sit on young mikas face. just smother that pretty face with my pussy

anon ur so right. why do you, as a man, have an INSANE JAWLINE if not to give me a nice seat!!

he loves it. he loves eating you out anyway, but having you sit on his face is on a whole other level for mika

wrapping his arms around your thighs to pull you down onto his mouth, moaning against your pussy when you tangle your hands in his hair

the noises are obscene

your stifled whines, a gentle, constant repetition of "mika, mika mika--" as you roll your hips against his face

the wet, desperate noises from mika pressing his tongue against you, dragging it through your cunt like he can't get enough of the taste of you

the one downside of the position is that he can't finger you like he normally would going down on you - can't fuck you with three fingers while he suckles your clit until you squeal and squirt over his hand

but that's okay (-: he's more than happy pulling you to an orgasm or two with his mouth alone, grabbing handfuls of your ass to knead and spank

sucking on your clit and lavishing the little bundle of nerves with tight circles of his tongue, bringing you closer and closer to the edge

the tipping point is when he pulls away, just enough for his "look at me" to be audible

and he doesn't break eye contact with you once you look down, his baby blue eyes turned dark with lust-blown pupils, the absolute need in his gaze pushing you over the edge as you cum

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