About Me

i just knoooow my man (little leclerc’s man) jenson has such a pleasure kink… like he’s not enjoying himself unless you’re a withering mess, he would know every trick in the book to make sure little leclerc/reader is satisfied even if he gets nothing from it physically.

but then add in any competition with seb who has to be the best at everything and little leclerc wont even consider any man on the 2023 grid bc how are they gonna make her feel what Seb and Jenson did??? anyways that’s all from me

DKCJDOFKFI ⚠️

"you're taking me so well, my sweet girl." jenson would rasp lowly, breath coming up in short pants as he marvels at the sight of you; looking so blissed out, eyes hazy from the feel of his throbbing cock just kissing the tip of your cervix. you were both gasping for breath for varying reasons; his, one of self control while yours were in pleasure and feeling so foreign, by being so deliciously stretched out.

"at your pace," he murmurs, pressing open mouthed kisses at your neck, eliciting a deep moan from you. "take it. take whatever you need." he utters, grunts, reverently. in awe. jenson grips your hips with barely restrained strenght as you started to bounce on top of him.

also tag teamm?!!?!?!? ask again bcs i malfunctioned,,, sorry ily😩😩😩😩

Thawed

Kimi Räikkönen x sunshine!Reader

Summary: the many times throughout the years that only the warmth of his wife could thaw the Iceman

“He’s just so … cold,” your aunt comments, wrinkling her nose at Kimi’s back as he heads to the bar. It’s the first time you’ve brought him to a family event.

You bristle, prepared to defend your new boyfriend. “He’s not cold once you get to know him. He’s just a private person.”

Your aunt sniffs. “Still, he barely said two words all night. And that nickname — the Iceman! I don’t like it.”

You straighten your spine. “Well I do. His thoughtfulness and loyalty outweigh any lack of words.”

As you speak, you feel your doubts about mismatched personalities fade. Opposites attract for a reason.

Your aunt looks unconvinced, but you pay her no mind. You’re falling for the quiet Finn with a heart of gold. And you won’t let anyone’s disapproval chill that flame.

When Kimi returns, you lean up and kiss his cheek fondly. He looks pleasantly surprised. Let them judge. You see the real man inside.

***

“Smash it! Smash it!” The rowdy groomsman chants as you and Kimi cut into your wedding cake.

Other guests take up the chant, clamoring for Kimi to shove cake in your face per tradition. But you had quietly asked him not to — you don’t want frosting up your nose and ruining your makeup on your wedding day.

Kimi’s eyes meet yours, a silent question. You give a slight shake of your head. His expression hardens with resolve.

In one smooth motion, he whirls and smashes the slice of cake directly into the rowdy groomsman’s face. Icing splatters everywhere. The room goes silent.

“Here you go, since you seem to want the cake smashed so bad,” Kimi says coldly.

The groomsman splutters in shock. You have to hide your smile behind your hand.

Kimi winks at you as he licks icing off his fingers. “Now, where were we?”

Heart swelling, you lean in to kiss your wonderful, cake-covered husband. No one gets in the way of your wishes on your wedding day.

***

The paddock is bustling with activity as you make your way through the crowds, weaving between mechanics and engineers going about their race day routines. The smells of rubber and gasoline hang thick in the air. You smile and nod at familiar faces, receiving knowing looks in return.

Everyone here knows who you are — the bubbly, outgoing wife of the Iceman himself. The unlikely pairing has been the talk of Formula 1 ever since you started dating a few years ago. You’re warm and chatty. He’s cool and laconic. But somehow, it works.

You find Kimi in the Ferrari motorhome, sipping an energy drink, game face on. His brows are furrowed in concentration, icy grey eyes focused straight ahead. You know not to disturb him right now. This is business time.

Slipping into the seat beside him, you pull out your phone and scroll aimlessly, letting the comfortable silence stretch between you. The hustle and noise of the paddock fades into the background.

Finally, Kimi drains the last drops from his can and crushes it in his hand. He turns to you, the stern expression melting away. His eyes soften and the corners of his mouth tick upward ever so slightly.

“Morning,” he says quietly, voice gravelly.

You beam at him. “Good morning, love. Ready to go racing today?”

He nods, the hint of a smile still playing on his lips. “Did you sleep okay?”

“I did, thanks to my very comfy race driver pillow.” You wink.

Kimi snorts, the creases around his eyes deepening. He leans in and presses a quick kiss to your temple.

Around you, mechanics and team members try and fail to pretend they aren’t glancing your way, still not used to seeing the Iceman so openly affectionate. But Kimi doesn’t seem to notice or care.

“I’ll see you after,” he says, standing up and giving your hand a squeeze. His face settles back into cool concentration as he strides out to prepare for the race.

You settle in to watch qualifying, heart swelling with pride and love for your Finnish fireball.

***

“Kimi, the stewards want to speak with you about the incident with Perez on lap 37.”

Kimi’s jaw clenches, eyes flashing. “Typical,” he mutters.

You touch his arm reassuringly. “Go on, I’ll wait here for you.”

He nods, striding off to the steward’s office, race suit half unzipped and hair disheveled. You know he’ll be lucky to escape without a penalty. Kimi has never been one to mince words or hide his displeasure with other drivers. You can only imagine the icy staredown happening behind those closed doors right now.

Twenty minutes later, he emerges looking ready to smash a table. You jump up and hurry over.

“Well? What did they say?”

Kimi’s scowl deepens, if that’s even possible. “Ten second penalty. Ridiculous.” He spits out something in Finnish you’re glad you don’t understand.

“Oh, I’m so sorry. You drove brilliantly today.”

He shakes his head and stalks down the hall towards the paddock. You scurry after him, nearly jogging to match his long angry strides.

“Forget it. Not your fault the stewards are blind.”

You slip your hand into his, lacing your fingers together. Immediately you feel some of the tension leave his body. He glances down at you, the hint of a smile breaking through the thunderclouds.

“Let’s get out of here,” you say gently. “I’ll make you your favorite dinner, open a nice bottle of wine ...”

He nods, expression softening. “Okay. Sounds good.”

You smile up at him, giving his hand a squeeze. The stormy Finn may have a heart of ice on the track, but you know better. He just needs a little sunshine sometimes.

***

You pause in the kitchen doorway, heart melting at the scene before you. Kimi sits on the living room floor, your baby niece perched happily in his lap. He bounces her gently on his knee as she squeals with delight, the hint of a smile on his usually stoic face.

“Faster Unca Kimi, faster!” She cries, unruly curls flying.

He chuckles and picks up the pace, eliciting delighted giggles from her. Your sister watches nearby, still looking a bit bemused at seeing the Iceman so good natured and playful.

Finally Kimi stops, feigning exhaustion. “Whew, that’s enough for Uncle Kimi,” he says, lifting her up and pretending to wipe sweat from his brow. “You’re too fast!”

She dissolves into giggles and wraps her tiny arms around his neck in a hug. He hugs her back, looking more content than you’ve ever seen him. Your heart feels fit to burst.

“Who wants ice cream?” You announce, carrying in two bowls.

“Me, me!” Your niece starts to squirm in Kimi’s lap, reaching eagerly for her treat.

He stands, swinging her up easily onto his shoulders. “Let’s go have ice cream on the porch, give your mama a break,” he says. She kicks her little legs gleefully.

Your sister shoots you a grateful smile as Kimi carries her outside. You grin and wink. Who would believe it — the Iceman, a big softie for kids. But you know better. Under that cool exterior beats a heart of gold.

***

The crowds pressing around the circuit are suffocating today. Fans shove programs and merch at you for Kimi to sign. One overzealous teenage boy tries to wrap you in an uninvited hug.

Suddenly Kimi is there, gently but firmly detaching the boy’s hands from your arms. His face is thunderous.

“Back. Off.” The boy stumbles away wide-eyed.

Kimi keeps a protective grip on your shoulder as he marches you briskly from the paddock. Once inside the privacy of the motorhome, he cups your face in his hands.

“Are you okay? Did he hurt you?” His tone is urgent.

You shake your head, still a bit shaken. “Just got grabby. Thank you for the rescue.”

Kimi exhales, pressing his forehead to yours. “I don’t like you getting swarmed out there.”

You smile wryly. “Hazards of being Mrs. Iceman.”

He brushes his thumb over your cheek. “I just want to keep you safe. Those crowds make me nervous.”

You kiss him softly. “I’ll be okay.”

His eyes bore into yours, icy blue melting into tenderness. “Still. Stay close to me out there from now on. So I can protect what’s most precious.”

Your heart flutters under his intent gaze. You lace your fingers through his, feeling infinitely cherished.

“Always.”

***

“Kimi, your phone is ringing again,” you call from the couch.

He doesn’t respond, gaze fixed intently on the TV as he navigates a difficult turn in his racing video game. The phone buzzes angrily on the coffee table.

With a sigh, you reach for it. The caller ID says “Bane of My Existence.” You frown. That’s the third call from her this week that he’s ignored.

“Kimi ...”

“Hmm?” He pauses the game and glances at you, eyebrows raised.

You hold up the phone. “It’s your PR officer again. Don’t you think you should answer and see what she wants?”

His expression clouds over. “No. Told her not to call me anymore.”

“Oh? Why’s that?” You keep your tone light and curious.

He shrugs. “Kept trying to get me to do stuff. Go to parties and all that.”

You bite back a smile, warmth flooding your chest. Your shy homebody of a husband, sought after on the celebrity circuit but wanting none of it.

“Well, I’m glad she hasn’t lured you away yet,” you tease gently.

The corners of his mouth quirk up as he takes the phone from you and sets it aside before pulling you into his lap.

“Don’t worry,” he rumbles, nudging your nose with his. “You’re the only party I need.”

You kiss him softly, heart overflowing. The glitz and glam means nothing to your Kimi. Home is where his heart is.

***

You awake to whispered voices and the smell of something burning. Bleary-eyed, you shuffle to the kitchen doorway.

Kimi stands at the stove, hair endearingly mussed from sleep. He’s scowling down at a frying pan, clutching a spatula like a weapon. Your brother leans against the counter, trying and failing to stifle laughter.

“What’s going on?” You ask through a yawn.

Kimi’s scowl deepens. “Trying to make you breakfast. Not going well.” He prods the blackened lump in the pan disdainfully.

Your brother snorts. “He nearly set off the fire alarm. I got here just in time.”

“I told you I don’t cook,” Kimi mutters, avoiding your gaze.

You pad over and wrap your arms around him from behind, pressing a kiss between his shoulder blades. “It’s the thought that counts. Thank you, love.”

He relaxes back into your embrace. Your brother mimes gagging behind his back. You stick out your tongue at him.

“Here, I’ll show you,” you say, gently prying the spatula from Kimi’s hand. “Just go slow ...”

Soon, the three of you are gathered around the table, eating the pancakes you made together. Kimi’s are a bit misshapen, but edible.

He looks inordinately pleased as you sample his. “Good?”

You beam at him and squeeze his hand. “The very best.”

His rare unguarded smile warms you more deeply than any breakfast ever could.

***

You awaken to the dipping of the mattress as Kimi slips under the covers. The red glow of his bedside clock reads 3:48 AM.

“Everything okay?” You murmur, rolling over to face him.

He wraps an arm around you, pulling you close against his chest. You feel the steady thump of his heart under your palm.

“Yeah. Couldn’t sleep.” His voice rumbles low near your ear.

You nuzzle into him, breathing in the familiar scent of his skin. “Worrying about the race this weekend?”

He exhales, his breath stirring your hair. “No. Just thinking.”

When he doesn’t elaborate, you lift your head to study his face in the dimness. His eyes shine in the faint light, gazing at you with an intensity that makes your own heart skip.

“What is it?” You whisper.

He brushes a strand of hair from your face, his callused fingers infinitely tender. “Sometimes I still can’t believe you’re here. That you’re mine.”

Emotion swells in your chest, words escaping you. You cup his stubbled face and guide his lips down to yours in a soft, lingering kiss.

When you finally draw apart, he pulls you close again, tucking your head under his chin. No more words are needed. You understand each other perfectly in the quiet spaces between heartbeats. Soon his breathing evens out in sleep, and you follow him down, still nestled safe in the circle of his arms.

***

You’re just drizzling the last of the chocolate over the molten lava cakes when you hear Kimi’s keys in the front door. A smile spreads across your face. Perfect timing.

He wanders in a few moments later, hair adorably rumpled, eyes lighting up when he sees you.

“Mmm, something smells good,” he says, crossing the kitchen to wrap you in a hug.

You kiss his scratchy cheek. “Made your favorite for dessert. Now go get cleaned up while I finish.”

He squeezes you tighter, stubble tickling your neck as he nuzzles into it. “Can’t I have you for dessert instead?”

You swat his shoulder playfully. “Go on, you. Plenty of time for that later.”

He steals one more kiss before sauntering off, a grin playing about his lips. You shake your head, unable to stop smiling. After all these years, he still makes your heart race as if you’re teenagers again.

When he returns, you’ve set out the seared salmon, roasted vegetables, and the two perfect chocolate lava cakes. His eyes light up.

“Have I told you lately that you’re the best wife ever?” He asks, pulling out your chair.

“Hmm, I think you could stand to mention it more,” you tease.

He takes your hand, brushing his thumb over your knuckles. His eyes pierce yours. “You’re the best wife ever,” he says solemnly.

You lean in and kiss him, happiness bubbling up inside you. However many times he says it, you’ll never get tired of hearing it.

***

“So, what’s it like being married to the grumpiest driver on the grid?” The reporter shoves a microphone in your face, invasive and smug.

You recoil, blindsided. “Excuse me?”

“Come on, he’s not exactly Mr. Personality.” The reporter leans closer. “Does the Iceman thaw out at home or just freeze you out?”

Humiliation burns through you. Before you can respond, Kimi is there, gently moving you aside. His eyes are blazing.

“Don’t you dare talk about my wife like that,” he growls at the reporter. “You know nothing about our life.”

The reporter withers under Kimi’s icy glare. You feel a rush of gratitude for your protective husband.

Kimi turns to you, face softening. “Let’s get out of here.”

Once you’re alone, he brushes a strand of hair from your face. “Sorry you had to deal with that. He had no right to badger you about our marriage.”

You lean into him, safe in the circle of his arms. “It’s okay. You came to my rescue like a knight in shining racing gear.”

He snorts. “Hardly a knight. But for you, always.” He kisses you tenderly.

No matter what the media says, your life together is not theirs to define. Your love writes its own quiet story each day.

***

You awake in the dark to a loud crash from downstairs. Heart pounding, you shake Kimi’s shoulder.

“Kimi, wake up! I think someone’s broken in.”

He’s up in an instant, alert and poised to strike. You hear footsteps creeping up the stairs. Kimi pushes you behind him and grabs the baseball bat by the bed.

The footsteps reach the landing and a shadowy figure appears in the doorway. Kimi flicks on the light, bat raised menacingly. You both freeze.

It’s Sebastian Vettel, eyes wide, hands raised in surrender. “Whoa whoa, it’s just me!”

Kimi’s shoulders slump as he lowers the bat. “Seb? What the hell are you doing here?”

Seb runs a hand through his messy hair. “Sorry, I didn’t mean to scare you. I was in town and my rental car broke down outside. I was hoping I could crash here tonight.”

Kimi sighs, shaking his head. “You couldn’t call first?”

Seb grins sheepishly. “Forgot to charge my phone.”

You step out from behind Kimi, laying a hand on his arm. “It’s fine, love. Let’s get some fresh sheets for the guest room.” You turn to Seb. “We’ll figure out your car in the morning.”

Seb’s shoulders sag in relief. “Thanks, I really owe you guys.”

As you make up the bed, you share an amused look with Kimi. Only Seb could turn up unannounced in the middle of the night and get away with it. But then again, that’s why you love him.

***

You’re waiting at the finish line, heart in your throat as the cars scream past for the final lap. Kimi is battling for a podium finish, but has fallen back after a poorly timed pit stop. He’s gaining ground fast, but is he out of time?

The crowd roars as the frontrunners cross the line. P2 … P3 … waiting for P4. Come on, Kimi.

Then you see it, the red and white Alfa Romeo flashing past the checkered flag, narrowly clinching third. You leap in the air, cheering loudly. Kimi did it!

You rush down towards the pits, arriving just as Kimi climbs from his car. His race suit is drenched, hair plastered to his forehead, but his eyes are bright. When he spots you, a grin breaks across his face.

You throw your arms around him, heedless of how sweaty he is. “You were amazing! I’m so proud of you.”

He lifts you off your feet in a bear hug, laughing breathlessly in your ear. The sound sends joy bursting through your veins.

As he sets you down, you cradle his stubbled face in your hands. “I love you,” you say fiercely.

His grin softens to something more tender. He tilts his forehead against yours, heedless of the crowds milling nearby.

“Love you too,” he murmurs.

The cameras flash around you, eager to capture this rare unguarded moment. But Kimi only has eyes for you. Third place has never felt so golden.

***

“Ugh, your wife is so annoyingly positive all the time. It’s nauseating,” the other driver’s girlfriend gripes to Kimi at a race afterparty.

You freeze mid-laugh, stung by her disdainful tone. Kimi’s eyes narrow dangerously.

“I would rather have a positive wife than a miserable cow like you,” he says coldly. “Come on, let’s go.”

He takes your arm and steers you firmly away. You blink back tears, embarrassed.

“Hey,” Kimi says softly, tilting your chin up. “Don’t listen to her. I love how positive you are. Don’t let anyone make you feel bad for spreading joy.”

You give a watery chuckle. “Really? You don’t find it annoying?”

“Are you kidding? Your light balances out my darkness perfectly.” He punctuates this with a swift kiss. “You keep me from being a constant grump.”

You laugh and swat his chest. “Impossible. No one can tame the Iceman’s grumpiness.”

He smiles tenderly and pulls you close. “You do. Don’t change for anyone else.”

***

You pace the bathroom floor, heart racing. The little white stick sits innocently on the counter, but its result will change everything. One blue line for negative, two for positive.

Three minutes have never felt so long.

When the timer finally beeps, you take a deep breath and turn it over with a shaky hand. Two blue lines stare back at you.

Positive.

Emotions swell within you — joy, nervousness, excitement. You and Kimi have been trying for a baby, but it still feels so surreal now that it’s actually happening.

You hear the front door open and Kimi call out your name. It’s time. Clutching the test behind your back, you go to him.

He must read something in your face, because his brows furrow in concern. “Everything okay?”

Your face splits into a teary grin. “Everything’s perfect.” You bring the test out from behind you and hold it up wordlessly.

Kimi’s eyes widen. For once, the unflappable Finn seems utterly flapped. “You … we ...” He stares at the two little lines, then back at you. “We’re having a baby?”

You nod, vision blurring with happy tears. With a joyful shout, Kimi sweeps you up in his arms and spins you around. His excitement is boyish and uncontained.

When he sets you down, he cradles your face in both hands. “I’m going to be a father,” he whispers in awe.

You put your hand over his, overjoyed tears spilling down your cheeks. “You’re going to be the best father.”

***

You fidget impatiently on the exam table, Kimi’s hand clutched in yours. After months of waiting, today is your first ultrasound. If all looks well, you’ll get to see your baby for the very first time.

“What’s taking so long?” You huff. Kimi smiles and presses a kiss to your temple.

“Relax, they’ll be here soon.” His calm steadies you, as it always does.

Finally the technician arrives and asks you to lift up your shirt. She squeezes cool gel over your swelling belly and begins moving the ultrasound wand through it.

The screen comes to life, showing grainy black and white images you can’t decipher. The technician frowns, adjusting some dials. Your heart leaps into your throat.

Sensing your distress, Kimi gives your hand a reassuring squeeze. “It’s okay. Just be patient,” he murmurs.

After a few tense moments, the technician’s face clears. She turns the screen towards you with a smile. “There we are. There’s your baby.”

You gaze in wonder at the little shape filling the screen, tiny arms and legs visibly squirming. Your vision blurs with tears. That’s your child, your little miracle.

Beside you Kimi is utterly transfixed, eyes shining. “That’s our baby,” he whispers reverently.

He lifts your intertwined hands and presses his lips to your knuckles. “Thank you,” he says, voice husky with emotion. “For this gift.”

You have no words. You simply lean into him, his solid warmth anchoring you as joy washes over you both.

***

You stare glumly at your reflection in the mirror. At eight months pregnant, you feel like a beluga whale. Your ankles are swollen, your back aches constantly, and none of your clothes fit over your enormous bump anymore.

Voices sound from downstairs as Kimi arrives home. You feel tears prick your eyes. You don’t want him to see you like this, a beached whale in sweatpants.

Sniffling, you ease onto the bed and bury your face in a pillow. Kimi finds you there a few minutes later. The mattress dips as he sits down and rubs your back.

“What’s wrong, love?”

You shake your head, embarrassed. “Nothing. I’m fine.”

Gently he turns you over, brushing the hair from your damp cheeks. “Talk to me,” he says softly.

A sob escapes you. “I’m hideous like this! I’ve gotten so huge. You must be disgusted looking at me.”

Kimi’s brow furrows. He takes your chin in his hand, forcing you to meet his earnest gaze. “Is that what you think? That I find you disgusting?”

Ashamed, you drop your eyes, fresh tears spilling over.

“Look at me,” he says gently. You do. His ice blue eyes pierce yours. “You’ve never been more beautiful to me than you are right now, carrying our child.”

He places a reverent hand on your belly. “You are giving us the most precious gift in the world. How could I not find you beautiful?”

His words pierce your heart. You cover his hand with yours. “I love you,” you whisper.

He gathers you close, dropping feather-light kisses over your face. “And I love you. Always.”

You cling to him, feeling foolish and so very loved.

***

A contraction rips through you, more intense than any before. You cry out, squeezing Kimi’s hand desperately.

“Breathe, love, breathe,” he coaches, face taut.

You gasp air into your lungs as the vice grip on your insides finally releases. Kimi dabs the sweat from your brow with a cool cloth.

“You’re doing so well,” he murmurs. “Our little one will be here soon.”

Even through the haze of pain, his voice anchors you. Your Kimi, always steady as a rock.

Too soon, another contraction wrings a ragged shout from you. Kimi never leaves your side, letting you nearly crush his hand as you ride out the agony.

“I can’t … I can’t do this ...” you sob.

Kimi presses his lips to your temple. “You can. You’re the strongest person I know. I’m right here with you.”

His faith buoys you, even as your body is wracked with wave after wave of excruciating spasms. Your world narrows to the circle of his arms.

Then finally, miraculously, comes the thin, piercing cry of your child. Your exhausted tears mingle with joyful laughter.

Kimi cuts the cord with shaky hands, eyes shining brighter than you’ve ever seen. When they lay the squalling, pink bundle on your chest, the universe crystallizes to this one perfect point.

Your family, whole at last.

***

You awake in the small hours before dawn, reaching across the cool sheets only to find Kimi’s side of the bed empty. Padding down the hallway on silent feet, you peer into the nursery.

Your breath catches in your throat. Kimi stands over the crib, your tiny daughter cradled against his chest. One large hand gently supports her downy head.

He’s speaking softly to her in Finnish, too low for you to understand. But the love shining through his voice brings tears to your eyes. Your tough, taciturn Finn transformed into a doting father.

As he lays her tenderly back in the crib, you hear him murmur in a whisper, “Don’t worry little one, your isä will always protect you. I promise you that.”

He tucks the blanket snugly around her and brushes a feather-light kiss over her forehead. The tenderness of it makes your heart ache.

You slip silently back to bed before he notices you, not wanting to intrude on this private moment between father and daughter. But the image stays seared in your mind.

When Kimi joins you a few minutes later, you turn and press your face into his chest so he won’t see your tears of joy. His arms come around you reflexively.

“You okay?” He rumbles.

You nod, a lump in your throat. Your family is so very blessed.

***

The paddock is bustling with activity as you push your daughter’s stroller through the chaotic maze of the paddock. She’s only six months old, wide-eyed at all the commotion.

Mechanics pause to coo over her, their grease-smudged fingers surprisingly gentle. PR people stop to fuss and take photos. Word has spread — the Iceman’s baby girl is here.

Kimi strides over, stooping to drop a kiss on your head and tickle his daughter’s tummy. His race suit is on, grey eyes intense and focused.

“Sure you don’t want me to take her while you concentrate?” You ask.

He shakes his head, a corner of his mouth quirked up. “I need to see my two favorite girls before I drive.”

Your heart melts. Kimi scoops her up, and she clutches at his nose and gurgles. Nearby, you hear shutters clicking madly. The Iceman undone by a baby — it’ll be all over the press tonight.

But Kimi only has eyes for his daughter, face soft in a way it never is before a race. With a deep breath, he cuddles her close and murmurs something in Finnish before handing her back to you.

You kiss his cheek. “Go show them how it’s done, Daddy.”

He winks and strides off towards the pit lane, determination in his stride. Your daughter waves a chubby fist as he disappears from view.

No matter how many races he wins, now his best trophy waits for him at the finish line. His family.

***

“Must be lonely married to a man called the Iceman,” the reporter says slyly. “He’s not known for being warm and affectionate.”

Anger flashes through you. How dare this stranger imply your marriage is lacking.

“You couldn’t be more wrong,” you reply sharply. “Kimi is very attentive and loving in private.”

The reporter raises her eyebrows. “But his public image ...”

You cut her off. “That’s all it is — an image. Kimi deserves more respect than tired old stereotypes.”

Your voice softens as you glance to where Kimi is chatting with fans, his body angled protectively towards you.

“There is no one kinder or more loyal than my husband. He cherishes our family greatly, he just doesn’t flaunt it to the world.”

The reporter looks taken aback by your fervent defense. You almost feel sorry for her. She’ll never truly know the man behind the Iceman legend. But you do and you won’t tolerate anyone maligning him.

Long haired Jenson is superior it doesn’t matter if his last name is Ackles or Button he’s superior

sebastian vettel masterlist

all blurbs are listed from oldest to newest - oldest being on the top and newest on the bottom. // it’ll be updated as I post!

header by @stuffspaddock

Keep reading

You asked for blurb ideas & that thought here got stuck in my mind since this morning 🌞

Tennis Reader “thanking” Art after their training session in the locker rooms. ;)

Reader sneaks in men’s locker room after training together till evening, surprising (Stanford) Art under the shower + asking for some steamy extra cardio. 👀

And eventually Patrick walks in. Idk abt that but whatever you write is amazing, in every trope 🫶🏻

Rating: E (18+)

Warnings: SMUT (hj, fingering, p in v), throuple dynamics (+1)

A/N: Ok I’m sorry I know you said Stanford but 2019 era Art is ALLLL I can think about 🩷 forgive me for my transgressions pls

Tashi had set the whole thing up, holding his hand through it. Because Tashi and Patrick were off globetrotting for the tour— France, if he remembered correctly. Tashi just wanted to make sure he was taken care of, that his needs were being met. In his career… and otherwise.

You were a player out of… USC? He thought that sounded right. Recently graduated, doing well in the pros, already highly ranked with an excellent record. The perfect first player for Art Donaldson to coach.

She set up the entire thing, met with you to get things organized, and penciled training into his calendar with a tiny note.

Have fun without us -T

You were doing such a good job, even unwittingly— putting on the sweetest little show for him. When you’d miss a serve or a ball went out of bounds, you’d do a peppy little jog then bend over to grab it, completely unaware of the effect it might have had on him.

“I need to see how you play,” he had said as you dropped your bag on the side of the court. You smiled and nodded, and took to the opposite side of the net.

He beat you embarrassingly easily the first set. Sweat was beading on your forehead as you met him at the benches between courts and guzzled down water. When you finally came up for air, a little trail of water went from your plush bottom lip and down your chin.

He watched you lick the moisture from your lips, then wipe at the rest with the back of your hand. He swallowed hard.

“Do you want my advice?” He scratched at the back of his neck as you peered up at him expectantly. “You need to loosen up, you’re too tense.”

Your eyes widened at his direction, but you nodded. “Yeah, okay, Mr. Donaldson.” You drank down another gulp, then jogged back to the other side of the court, eager to please.

He watched you bend over, retrieving a couple of balls that you’d hit into the net, flashing tiny white spandex beneath your tennis skirt.

Jesus Christ, Tashi was evil.

By the afternoon, sweat dripped down your arms, along the line of your throat, dampened the baby hairs framing your face and the back of your neck, tacking them down to sticky skin.

“Why don’t we head to the locker rooms inside, then we can meet upstairs and go through a training plan.”

You smiled, looking so sweet and eager. “Okay.”

He was grateful for the shower— molten against aching, underused muscles. He hadn’t exactly just given up on everything after retiring, but his muscles weren’t being used the way they were used to— the constant strenuous training.

He closed his eyes, letting the spray hit his face and soak into his skin.

He heard a squeak and jumped, eyes flying open to the sight of you naked underneath one of the other shower heads, quickly adjusting the spray from ice cold to steaming hot.

“Turned it to cold on accident,” you said over your shoulder. “Women’s locker rooms are under maintenance. You don’t mind, right?”

He turned, cheeks burning pink as he tried his best to play it cool— act like he wasn’t checking you out. “No, uh, it’s fine.”

Were you in on it with Tashi? It certainly felt like it as he watched you lathering your body up with soap, maybe focusing too much attention to your tits.

You glanced over, caught him looking, and smiled. He turned away quickly with his pulse thrumming in his throat.

Fuck. He was already hard. It wasn’t exactly a surprise— he’d been half-hard just at the sight of you in that fucking outfit on the court.

He heard you laugh and looked back at you. You were looking right at him, amusement evident in your expression. “She said you’d be easy, but, Jesus, I thought you’d put up more of a fight.” 

You shut off the water of your shower and made your way over. Water dripped from your body, rolling down your skin in delicate rivulets. You stopped in front of him and ran a hand down his chest, making him shiver.

“Tashi told you?” His words trailed off into a groan as your hands moved between his legs, stroking the length of him in your delicate grasp.

“She told me to say thank you after every lesson,” you said. With each step forward you made, he took a step back, until you had him pinned against the cold tile. He moaned as your thumb ran over the tip of his cock, and you smile sweetly. “She showed me exactly how I should do it.”

“Showed you?”

You sped your hand up, twisting slightly with each tug upwards. “Mhmm. On Patrick. She went first, then I showed her what I learned.” You laughed softly, lips brushing along his jaw. “I’m a very fast learner. Patrick was very impressed.”

Fuck, he was going to get back at Tashi for not letting him be there for that. The mental image was enough to make his cock pulse in your grip. Maybe he’d just have you recreate it for him the second Tashi and Patrick came home.

Your lips brushed along the like of his jaw as you continued to jerk him off, your hand slick and tight and relentless. Just like Tashi’s would be. God, you really were a fast learner.

It would certainly make being your coach a lot easier.

“Art,” you hummed, breath hot against his ear. He nodded wordlessly, almost afraid that if he spoke, he’d wake up from a fugue state to find out that he’d just imagined it all and was mid-jerk off session.

Your lips moved against his throat, nipping gently at the expanse of soft skin. He tasted like sweat and tap water. Your words came out as a whisper, “You can fuck me now.”

He laughed shakily, flushed red down to his chest. “Now? You don’t want me to go down on you, or—“

He was cut off when you grabbed his hand and moved it between your legs. Dripping wet, silky soft, absolutely aching for him.

You moaned softly, leaning fully onto him for support as he rubbed at your clit. “T-Tashi—“ You stammered, losing that seductive bravado you’d walked in with. “Told me I should make you work for it. But, fuck—”

Art laughed softly. “You’re too needy.”

“Do you know how fucking sexy you sound when you play tennis?” You whined, breath going shaky as he pushed a finger inside of your aching cunt. “Halfway through the second set, I— god— I considered dropping the pretense and fucking you right on the— on the court.”

Tashi wouldn’t have that. When she came home, she’d clock that impatience train it out of you. She’d make you sit and watch, get so desperate you’d beg and cry for it. She had to do it to Patrick before— she would know just how to get you to the point she needed you at.

The tennis would be up to Art.

You were so wet, clenching around his finger, craving more. What the fuck would be the point in denying either of you any longer?

You whined when he moved his hand from you, but he wasn’t going to keep you waiting. He pinned you against the cold tile wall, lifting you up to where he needed. You smiled at him,wrapping your legs around his waist, coaxing him closer.

A shiver ran through you as his cock brushed over your folds— so close to where you needed him. His tip notched against your entrance and he pressed into you slowly, relishing in the way you held your breath, in the way your body opened up for him so eagerly.

He pressed his forehead against yours when he bottomed out, and you panted as you adjusted to him.

You were impatient. So fucking impatient. You rocked your hips against him, begging wordlessly for more. He leaned in, kissing you slowly.

“Art,” you gasped, pulling away from the kiss as he fucked into you, slow and deep. “Patrick told me that I should tell you that you’re supposed to fuck me, not make love to me.”

Of fucking course he did. “Is that what you want?”

You nodded, somehow looking so sweet split open on his cock. His hips met yours in a particularly harsh thrust and you cried out in surprise. You moaned so seeetly, your lips turned up in a smug grin. It was exactly what you wanted.

Your back slid against the slick tile wall as he drove into you again and again and again. Your cunt was so warm, and tight, and so fucking wet if squelched obscenely with each thrust.

Wet kisses were peppered along his jaw and throat along with soft murmured thank yous and praise.

“You’re so deep, Art,” you moaned into his ear. “Feels so good. Thank you, thank you.”

It had been a week since Tashi and Patrick were home. A week of having to find satisfaction with Patrick’s fucking lewd Snapchat videos and his hand.

And here you were— a sweet, tight, Tashi-approved plaything. Your manicured nails rubbing at your clit, your pussy clamping around his cock as you drew closer and closer to the edge.

What better foreplay was there than tennis?

You came first, which was a fucking Godsend. He had no doubt Tashi would’ve flayed him if she found out that he couldn’t even manage to get his new toy off before he did. Loud— not caring if anyone heard.

Tashi would train that out of you too, lest you get them banned from every fucking country club in the state. Or a TMZ article whispering about a tawdry affair.

He shut you up with a hungry, searing kiss. Tongue moving against yours, muffling your cries. He came buried as deep as he could possibly get, with his tongue shoved down your throat and his grip bruising your soft thighs.

The water had gone icy when you both detached from each other, finally taking the actual shower you needed. You happily shared a shower head since you’d wasted enough water as is.

You redressed, tied up your wet hair, and sat on a bench, tapping away at your phone while he did his best to look presentable, and not like he’d just fucked the athlete he was supposed to be coaching.

“Tashi and Patrick say hi,” you said casually, offering a killer smile.

Maybe retirement wasn’t that bad.

NEED to be the toxic triplets’ little plaything im clawing at the padded walls of my enclosure

Anywayssss feel free to send more blurb reqs 🩷

kissing him from forehead to waist on a lazy day spent in bed just so that he gets all warm and flustered and hard as a rock before i pull down his underwear and ride him until he’s moaning broken i love you’s into my mouth

react (pt. II)

toto wolff x fem!reader

summary: toto takes his game one step further.

warnings: dirty talk, smut (sex toys, humiliation kink, mean!toto, daddy kink, squirting), inappropriate use of a bow tie [18+ MINORS D.N.I.]

notes: my need to get dicked down by this old man will never tire. check out part one if you haven't yet! (ignore the fact that i wrote pt. 1 in past tense, i hadn't yet learned that i'm much more comfy with present 🤪)

words: 2,689

❣️ dirty thangs under the cut ❣️

"I’d feel sorry for you if fucking your brains out wasn’t going to be the highlight of my evening.”

Toto's crude words echo in your brain as he half leads, half drags your overstimulated body down the hallway to the elevator, making you nearly trip over yourself. Your legs shake as your nerves are set on fire from the continuous vibration inside of you.

"Toto," your voice barely rises above a whisper out as he punches the call button. "Please, can you turn it off just until we get to the room?"

He takes a beat to look at your quaking body - your eye makeup is starting to bleed from your sudden onset of tears that arose when he had you pinned against the wall, and a red flush is covering your chest, blooming out from underneath the sodden material of your dress. He loves you like this, wide-eyed and on the brink of breaking down for him, and he's never wanted to fuck you more. But instead, he says:

"Now, why would I want to do that," he smiles wickedly, "When I'm having so much fun?"

The bright ding of the elevator arriving nearly makes you jump out of your skin, and Toto roughly pushes you inside ahead of him. Before the doors even close, he has a hand wrapped around your neck and is backing you up into the mirror - the same one in which he had lovingly admired you only a while ago.

The bare skin of your upper back makes contact with the cold glass and Toto roughly slits a leg in between yours. The sensation of his muscular thigh tensing beneath the wool of his tuxedo pants draws a gasp from you. Only the thin scraps of fabric of your gown and drenched panties separate the two of you, and you desperately begin to seek friction with his leg, grinding your hips down.

At the feeling of your pelvis rolling against him, he lets out a small laugh.

"Look at you, so desperate to cum that you're actually humping my leg."

You let out a soft whine as you begin to relieve some of the tension that's been boiling inside of you, threatening to spill over at any second. The rolls of your hips begin to quicken and Toto is fast to clamp his free hand onto your hip, fingers digging into the plump skin painfully hard, hard enough to stop your movements.

"Don't you dare cum, schatzi," he warns, eyes fiery and fingers tensing around the column of your neck. "If you cum, I'm not going to touch you for a month. When I told you I couldn't wait to get you underneath me I wasn't fucking around."

Another ding signals the stop of your floor. With that, he withdraws his leg, leaving you somehow even more strung out than when you entered the elevator. He doesn't wait for you as he walks down the hallway, and you practically have to peel yourself off the mirror to follow after him.

As soon as the door to the hotel room closes behind you, he removes his tuxedo jacket, throwing it haphazardly across the king-sized bed. You clock the frantic motion - you know Toto wants this just as bad as you do, even when he plays up the cold and uncaring side of his demeanor. Toto catches your eyes and looks at you expectantly as he undoes the cufflinks of his dress shirt and begins rolling the sleeves up to his elbow.

Your skin heats up at the sight of those muscular arms and you're reminded of how much power Toto truly holds over you, both mentally and physically.

"Why aren't your clothes off, schatz?" he asks pointedly. "Don't just stand there staring at me."

Wordlessly, you slip the straps of your dress off your shoulders, the soft material falling to the floor where it pools around your high heels. Shame fills you when you push your wet thong down and feel the cool air of the room hit your wetness and your hard nipples. You crouch down to hide your nakedness and start to unbuckle the straps of your heels when Toto snaps his fingers at you.

"Leave them on," he says sternly. "And don't try to cover yourself up, either."

Your face grows hot at the authority in his voice and you tentatively begin to stand up, limply dropping your arms at your sides.

"Knees." Toto commands, beginning to undo the knot of his bowtie.

"What?" you squeak out, confused.

"I said," he repeats tersely, sliding the tie off his neck and pointing at the space on the floor just beyond the foot of the bed. "Knees. I think toys make you a bit dumb, darling. Or maybe you had too much to drink back there?"

Your cheeks flush at his crude words but you follow his instructions, knees sinking into the soft carpeting of the room. You're still fighting the instinct to cover up when he walks behind you and roughly pulls your arms behind your back, crossing them at the wrist just above the curve of your ass.

"What are you doing?" you gasp softly.

"Since you're obviously having a hard time following instructions tonight," he taunts, slipping the satin material of the tie around your crossed wrists. "I think you need a little reminder of who's in charge here."

He punctuates his words with a harsh yank of the tie, and you realize he's tied your wrists together. He steps back around in front of you and when you look up you feel the ache between your thighs grow stronger.

All 6' 5" of him practically towers over you, and he's just so painfully handsome, with his sharp bone structure and brown hair that's verging on the edge of wild from absentmindedly raking his hands through it during dinner. When you first met him, you were intimidated by his appearance and commanding personality, not to mention the largeness of, well...everything about him. You didn't know then how quickly and easily he could oscillate between soft and mean, or how much you'd love the feeling of him breaking you down bit by bit. He brings a hand down to cup your chin, caressing your tear-stained cheek with his thumb.

"I probably didn't even need to tie you up, all I had to do is say 'hold your arms behind your back and don't fucking move,'" he smirks, now stroking the pad of his thumb over your quivering bottom lip. "And you're such a good girl, you just listen. You'd never disobey Daddy, do you schatzi?"

His thumb slips into your mouth then, leaving you only able to shake your head side to side in response. You curl your tongue over the digit, sucking your own tears off of it gently and looking up at him through your wet lashes.

Toto looks at you with an almost adoring look on his face and reaches his free hand down to stroke the crown of your head, his fingers pushing loose strands of fine hair away from your face. The tender moment is short-lived, though, and he suddenly pulls his thumb out of your mouth with a pop and is quick to replace it with his middle and ring fingers, shoving them roughly against your tongue.

You whine at the metallic taste of his wedding band and the hand lovingly stroking your head moves to roughly grip the hair at the base of your scalp, forcing you to crane your head up towards him. He uses the new angle to push his fingers deeper into your mouth and you gag around the thickness of them.

"Open that pretty mouth up, liebling, I know you can do better. You take Daddy's cock all the time, no?"

It doesn't take long to turn you into a drooling, needy mess, shifting your thighs together as you let out frustrated, muffled whines. Somewhere in the cloud of need and spit and his fingers in your mouth, you barely notice that he's finally turned off the vibrator. The dormant toy, while still creating a fullness, is nothing compared to what you want - the familiar feeling of his dick stuffed inside of you.

He makes quick work of his suit pants, unzipping them only enough to release his cock from the confines of his underwear. It springs up, the tip hitting the bottom of his toned stomach, and you feel your mouth reflexively begin to water when you see pre-cum collecting on it.

Toto fists his length with one hand, leading it to your waiting mouth. Your wet tongue welcomes his heaviness, drooling around his warm cock as he slides lower in your throat.

You can only moan around the thick warmth pressing down on your tongue, gagging as he thrust his hips forward and bottomed out at the back of your throat. His grip on your hair tightens as his pace picks up, the lewd, wet sound of him fucking your mouth filling the large room.

"That's it, baby, fuck, taking my cock so well."

His hungry brown eyes don't break from yours as he bobs your head in time with his hips, saliva leaking from the corners of your mouth, gagging each time he forces the back of your throat open wider to make room for his thick cock. He finally allows himself to moan and the sounds go straight to the tightness between your legs.

"You fucking love this," Toto chuckles, fluttering his eyes shut in pleasure, head tipping back. "You little slut - you're desperate to cum in the lobby where anyone could see you, but as soon as you get a cock in your mouth, you can't think about anything else."

He pulls you off him then, strands of drool still connecting his throbbing length to your red, slick lips. His voice is low and rough when he orders you to stand up. You stay down, trying to catch your breath as your chest rises and falls rapidly, the spit from your face starting to drip onto your chest.

"It wasn't a request, schatz."

He doesn't waste time picking you up by your waist and throwing you onto the bed, making you land uncomfortably on your back with your arms pinned beneath you. He quickly sheds the rest of his clothes before he's on his knees on the floor in front of you, his height still making him loom over you despite the difference with the bed.

"D-daddy" you whimper, struggling against the binds. "Please..."

"Please, what?" he teases, prying your thighs apart to wrap his arms around them, yanking you down the bed even further so your ass is almost hanging off the edge.

"Please...touch me - I'll be good, I promise. "

"I'd make you beg for more, liebling, but right now you look good enough to eat."

Toto's hand snakes up to touch your soaking folds, running a fingertip up and down them, stopping to circle your weeping hole where the base of the pink silicone is sticking out. He gently pulls on it and you let out a soft cry at the feeling of its fullness leaving your weak, overstimulated body. You're finally exposed to him with nowhere to hide.

"God, look at you. Soaking Daddy's fingers like a little slut. I could practically smell your pussy at that table. I wonder if anyone else could, hmm? You think Lewis could smell how wet you get for me, baby?"

"No, Daddy!" you whimper, your bottom lip wobbling.

Suddenly, he swings his hand forward to slap the wet mess between your legs. “I want you to cum for me.” He repeats the action, again and again, getting harsher with each spank. 

He alternates the rough slaps with dips of his fingers inside your tight core. The combination of the movements and the filthy wet sounds of his relentless attack on your cunt quickly push you over the edge, and spasms spread throughout your body. You feel senseless, the relief almost taking you out of your body.

"That's it, squirt for me," he growls, landing another sharp slap on your cunt. "You've already made such a fucking mess on my hands, cum and make some more."

Your vision goes white as your arousal floods out of you, wetting his thick fingers and spreading down to the veins of his muscular forearms. It's seeping into the sheets of the bed beneath you and you know you'll be the one to have to shamefully make the call down to housekeeping to get the bed changed.

You feel the bed dipping with his weight as the world comes flooding back to you. With the edge of your heightened state finally being taken off, your senses can take in more of him now - the smell of his expensive cologne, the softness of his skin, and the weight of his body on top of yours. You're still too weak to move, even when you feel him moving in between your legs, the heat of the head of his cock dragging up and down your soaking folds.

"Been thinking about fucking you all night, love," he murmurs, dipping his head down to fit into the crook of your neck.

You both groan in unison when he finally pushes the tip in. Toto bites your neck at the feeling of his length sinking in, disappearing into you inch by inch.

"You've been so good for Daddy, schatzi," Toto purrs, nipping at the skin of your neck as his hips begin moving. He's stretching you out so good, filling you up to the brim to the point where you can't even speak. "You don't have to do anything except take my cock and let me use your sweet cunt, okay? Just have to let it happen...take whatever I give you."

He fucks into you hard then, pulling your hips up to meet his pumps as a loud squelching and skin slapping fills the room. Your breasts bounce in time with his movements, rocking against the broad expanse of his chest. It's better than what you had been imagining all night as you sat and suffered at that table, in the hallway, in the elevator, and on your knees. You start to whine as you feel that familiar sensation begin to build again when his cock hits that perfect spot inside of you, and he pulls his face away from your neck to capture your lips in a searing kiss.

"Cum on my cock, baby" he murmurs against your lips, pounding into your pussy with unspoken ownership. "Be my good girl, be Daddy's good girl."

You cry into his mouth as you come undone, the walls of your cunt clenching around his thickness.

"That's right, baby, Jesus, you look so beautiful when you cum."

You can tell by the way his hips are stuttering that he won't last much longer, and you wrap your legs around his waist, hooking him in and forcing him deeper inside of you.

"Please cum inside of me, Daddy" you beg, the words tumbling out of your mouth.

He praises you and your cunt endlessly, the words spilling out of his mouth as his thrusts get sloppier and sloppier

"So fucking good, just for me, shit - so fucking tight-"

"Fuck!" he curses one last time before emptying himself inside of you, the pulsations of his cock making you ache in the best way possible. You can feel his spent leaking out of you and onto your inner thighs as he collapses on top of you, your spent breaths and moans mixing together.

His breath is warm on your neck as you both come down from your orgasms. Toto lifts his head when he finally catches his breath, pressing a soft kiss to your forehead, looking down at you with a soft smile.

"Was I too mean?" he asks huskily, eyes searching your face for any sign that he had gone too far this time, overstepped a boundary.

"No," you sigh contentedly. "You were perfect. Now, can you please untie me?"

After seeing that video that you qrted of Lewis and Toto in the paddock I realized I can't focus on anything else when his ARMS are just there. so i was thinking if you could write smth where reader works for merc/a job that puts her close to toto everyday and they often have team meetings but reader can't focus on anything else other than his arms. HANDS. and maybe his big ass watch 🤭 thx nat 🥰

the mind is a very strong thing, huh?

filthy

Dropping the material on the table, you let out a long sigh. You had already lost count of how many times you had sat in that room in the last two years, especially to talk about problems. And they were not few.

Slowly, the seats around the table were occupied, the sound of metal scraping on the floor of the room along with the mumbled greetings without much enthusiasm. There was no reason to be excited, not when another year had been thrown in the trash. Looking at your phone, you no longer remembered the topic you were talking about with your friend, the message you had started typing completely losing its meaning.

Then, a voice made you look up, a shy smile on your lips.

— Good morning, everyone — your boss said, as he went to the chair he usually occupied, near the flat screen on which the silver star shone. His eyes took in the way he greeted one of the employees with a smile and a hand on the shoulder.

However, as he sat down, a hiss escaped his lips.

— Is there a problem, Mr. Wolff? — you asked, almost without realizing it.

— Oh, no, it's just the knee that's still bothering me a little.

— The surgery didn't work?

— Yes, it worked, you just need to move it a little to strengthen it and it's a little painful, actually — he replied, smiling — But I appreciate your concern, Y/N. It's very kind of you.

You felt your face heat up, as you returned the smile.

The meeting began shortly after that short exchange of words between you, but your mind was still at that moment, on the sweet words, on his smile. That was the power Toto Wolff had over you. And you couldn't help but feel that way, especially when he was around.

He had enchanted you since the first time those brown eyes had met yours. His smile lit up any room, almost like the sun coming out from behind the clouds. His playful, almost boyish personality made something warm inside your chest, making you feel something you hadn't felt in a long time.

It was completely wrong, you knew. But, you couldn't help it.

You desired your boss.

— This is our chance to consolidate Lewis and the team in second place in the constructors — Toto said, gesturing with his hands in order to emphasize his own words — We couldn't do much in Japan, but this is the time to fight.

You weren't absorbing anything from that meeting. With one hand on your chin, you only had eyes for him and the way he moved his hands, as well as his serious tone, which made his skin tingle in a delicious way. You would do anything to be touched by those fingers, to feel them slide across your skin, leaving a trail of flames and desire along the way.

— The circuit was resurfaced, we're still not sure about the wear and tear — someone said next to you, but you didn't make a point of looking in its direction. Not when your mind drew a racy, not to say indecent, image involving the man scribbling something on the notepad in front of him.

It could be anywhere, even there. Toto wouldn't need to say much to have you in his hands, literally. Sitting on the conference table, it wouldn't take long for him to realize what you needed. And he would give it willingly, his breath hot against your ear.

His hand would slide up your black dress until it found the spot between your legs, hot and pulsing for attention, for stimulation, for him. Brushing his fingers lightly against your clit, still covered by your panties, making you moan softly.

— So needy — Toto would murmur, before pulling away the fabric and slowly inserting two fingers into your pussy, moving them slowly, as if he was discovering what you liked.

Just by looking in his eyes, you would make it clear that that rhythm was not enough, nor that the position of the fingers was correct. You needed him to bend them slightly, to brush against the spot you couldn't reach when you were alone, but that you were sure he was capable of.

— Toto — his name would escape your lips like a plea.

— More? — he would ask quietly, with a provocative smile. By nodding positively, the smile would grow — Ask me, schatz. Ask me and I'll give it to you.

— Please — you would murmur — Faster.

— Good girl…

The pace would go from something slow and almost torturous to something relentless, the wet sound that escaped your pussy would fill the room, along with your moans. Using the base of his hand, he would massage your clitoris without much delicacy, trying to take you to the place you wanted so much and had already reached so many times with those brown eyes in mind.

— Fuck, yes, yes, yes, yes — you would whimper, your fingers squeezing his shoulders tightly, as if that were possible to keep you there, savoring that pleasure you had waited so long for.

— Yes, let me feel your pussy squeezing my fingers, schatz — Toto would growl, as his hand continued to move against you, causing your legs to shake and your eyes to roll back.

The explosion was so close, so close. There was little left, just a few seconds.

And then…

— Y/N, how are the updated parts for Austin? — Toto asked.

Blinking, you came back to reality, feeling your skin too hot and your cheeks red. You had definitely gone too far.

— Ah, yes, the parts — you stuttered, looking for that information in your notes, feeling like a complete idiot for having let yourself be carried away by your own imagination — Yeah, so, they were...

— You know what, we'll talk about this after the meeting in my office, okay?

Your heart skipped a beat.

— Perfect.

Mercedes really said 'you have to be hot if you want to work for us'.