Fics That Defined My Love Of F1 Rpf

New Year’s Day

Greg House x Reader

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

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

“Don’t read the last page.”

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

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

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

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

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

“No, it’s not you.”

“No, you didn’t upset me.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

You don’t say a word.

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

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

Again, you really shouldn’t be into that.

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

For a second you consider the option that would be.

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

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

Again, you discard the thought.

It’s not quite so easy this time.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

He’ll find none.

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

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

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

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

“But I stay.”

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

Max definitely also has a mix of a praise and degrading kink. Like he'll be in the floor in front of you, having to use almost all his fingers to stretch you out and get you ready to take him, all while saying the filthiest but sweetest s hit ever like "what a pretty little slut, letting me stretch you out to take my cock, huh? you just want me inside you already, is that what it is? aw, my little whore lost all her words, do you need me to fuck it back into you? "

Also, imagine him fucking you so good that you either start speaking dutch for him or your first language. like, I grew up speaking Italian and English but when I get really flustered it all comes out in Italia so imagine him saying like "oh my pretty girl can't even speak straight and I haven't even put my dick in you yet "

(I think I have a praise kink 😐)

sadly i can’t speak anything but english sadly, i took three years of spanish but moved a few times and none of my courses lined up so it was a mess. i’m still trying to learn and have made some progress but its so hard tbh so many tenses.

no because praise and degradation are the perfect mix. he’d be staring at you so fondly sometimes, like he’s truly in love with you, while he’s burying his cock in you and calling you a whore and then spitting on you. then smiling and telling you you’re sooo pretty. his pretty slut. you can’t even respond you’re so fucked out.

can imagine max teaching you dutch while fucking you, making you repeat phrases back to him before he lets you cum, teaching you how to say something and asking you to say it to him while you’re all fucked out. “c’mon schatz, be good for me. remember what i taught you? can you say it for me?” and when you say it back to him, he’d praise you so much, “that’s my cockwhore, so good for me. just like that, say it with me, again.” and then you’re moaning it over and over because you suddenly don’t know how to say anything else with the way he’s fucking you.

once you’re done, cuddling in bed and being all lovey, he’d grin like the devil and tell you what it means and it’s absolutely filthy.

May I suggest: Fernando + cockwarming? For all of us dilf fuckers out there.

(Also you're doing a smashing job with this xoxo)

ANON UR BRAIN IS SO FUCKING BIG!! (and aaa thank u!! ilu <3)

cockwarming, light mentions of kink/bdsm concepts (mostly subspace), afab gn reader as usual

i mean, his dick is Big, its gotta be. even if you're just cockwarming, you're feeling it up in your guts

so it drives you INSANE. this constant pressure and deepness and stimulation but it's never enough

however, it absolutely sends you into subspace

the idea of just being there to be used, to sit on fernando's cock when he wants you

to be sent so utterly crazy by such little stimulation while nando seems totally unaffected, carrying on with what he's doing?

he's just going about his day - sat at his desk doing work, answering emails

but with you in his lap, legs spread wide over his thick thighs, your head cradled against his collarbone and neck

every so often one of you shifts, and it makes your insides flutter, the sudden stimulation of his cock moving inside you after relative stillness

and that sets him off too, his fingers clenching against the wood of the desk as he regains his composure after feeling you tighten around him

but then he's back to work, and you're back to floating in that almost mindless bliss -- not needing to worry about anything else, anything beyond this moment, and fernando's cock nestled deep inside you

if it's cockwarming while he's watching a film or similar, he's more likely to position you with your back to his chest on his lap, even if he knows you're not really watching the film

those strong, calloused hands idly stroking up and down your sides, dipping down to caress the outsides of your thighs and hips

occasionally bringing his fingers down to play with your clit and trace where your pussy is stretched out around his cock

but it isn't foreplay, in a sense

because you won't be coming until much later that evening, after he's had his fun

however, you still feel his deep laughing rumble through his chest as it makes your cunt squeeze around him and your breath catches as a whine in your throat

and when he brings his hands up under your shirt to cup your tits, not even looking away from his film to where you're blissed out on his cock, you just slip that bit deeper 😌

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?"

𝔸𝕔𝕙𝕖𝕤 𝕒𝕟𝕕 ℙ𝕒𝕚𝕟𝕤

(request) Sebastian Vettel x Reader  Periods are the worst but Seb makes them bearable  It’s just very very sweet!

Warnings: Reader has very intense cramps but its not too detailed. Reader's gender isn't explicitly mentioned but I wrote with afab reader in mind

You had never been in so much pain in your life. And you had once broken a bone. Sure your cramps had always been bad, but this was a whole different level of painful. You had woken up this morning with intense cramping and it didn’t take you long to figure out why. 

Your period had come a day early. 

Part of you was grateful that Sebastian was scheduled to be away for another day. You didn’t want him to have to deal with you while on the first day of your period. It was always the worst day of the whole week because your body was still adjusting to the sudden pain it was enduring. 

Sebastian was always a godsend when it came to your period. He was never embarrassed to go to the store and get what products you needed. He always made sure that he stocked up on things that he knew you liked. Things like your favourite sweets, your favourite tea bags and he always always always made sure that you had hot chocolate ready to be made at a moment's notice. 

All that to say that this time around, Sebastian had wanted to surprise you by coming home from the race weekend a little earlier than initially planned. Almost as soon as the race had finished and he didn’t have any more media duties to attend to, he got on the soonest flight back home to you.

Once Sebastian had reached the airport and collected his things from baggage claim, he received a notification on his phone. 

Flo: 🩸🩸🩸 starts today! 

Once Sebastian had seen it, he adjusted his plans slightly and made sure to stop at the store on his way home so he could get you some things to hopefully relax. 

Ever since the pre-race events had started earlier that day, you had been lying on the couch, curled up in the foetal position. The pain was so intense that you had only just managed to change your clothes in the morning and make your way to the couch. You didn’t have any extra energy to shower or grab any medicine that you knew you had. There was also the fact that you were trying to convince yourself that you didn’t need any medicine. That you could soldier through your period pain and be fine. 

That was exactly how Sebastian found you when he finally walked through the front door of your house. Given the amount of pain that he could see on your face, he knew you would struggle to answer anything he asked you. He quickly put his things down in the entryway, he could deal with it all later, and made his way to the kitchen to pour you a glass of cold water and put the kettle on so that he could make you a hot drink as well. 

Grabbing the glass of water and some medicine from the cabinet, he made his way back to where you were, put the glass on the coffee table before gently helping you sit up so you could swallow the tablet without choking on it. 

Once he made sure you had swallowed it he went back to the kitchen, leaving you to slowly sip on the water. Quickly grabbing your favourite mug, he made you a hot chocolate and topped it with mini marshmallows and chocolate powder. On his way back to the living room, he grabbed the bag of snacks he had bought. Walking into the room, he set the items on the coffee table and carefully sat down next to you. 

He spent the rest of the night comforting you and making sure that you were well taken care of. He whispered sweet things in your ear, both in English and German. It made you feel incredibly loved. Whispering assurances to you, Sebastian made sure that you drank your warm drink and ate some of the things he got for you. 

Eventually he got you to the bathroom, helping you shower away the gross feeling of sweat and gently massaging the soreness from your shoulders and neck. Afterwards he dressed you in your designated period pyjamas and laid you down on the bed before going to heat up your microwave heat bag. 

Crawling into bed beside you, he gave you the heat bag and wrapped you up in his arms. You grabbed one of his hands and brought it to your face to cradle it. 

“Thank you Sebby.” 

“I will always take care of you, Liebling.”

I smashed this out in one sitting. Briefly proofread but not at the same time??

Idk but I really enjoyed writing this one and I hope you enjoyed reading it!!

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😩😩😩😩

throat training thoughts tonight. ♡︎ fictional man forcing his fat cock down your throat until your little nose is in his pubes and he’s taking up every single one of your senses.

Somethin about Mick pleasuring himself makes me go a bit feral. I mean imagine he’s punishing you for being a brat and sits opposite you stroking himself. Ye please 🙏🏻

wicked. you guys are wicked. dedicating this to @daydreamingleclerc cause this is right up her alley.

Your boyfriend was mean, beyond mean. This was cruel.

To be fair, you were the one that put yourself in this situation but Mick didn't have to take you seriously the time, he usually didn't. You had teased him all through dinner; low cut top, you were out with friends so he couldn't be touchy, a hand on his lap the entire night, sitting on his lap for photos and wiggling around to get comfortable but he knew you were just rilling him up.

"Mick," you groaned, pouting as you watched him.

"What?" He mumbles, not even bothering to look up at you. His hand wrapped around his cock, moving up and down slowly; the same way you'd do it.

He made you sit on the bed, watching him make himself feel good instead of letting you touch him. This was more torture for you than him, at least he was still getting some sort of pleasure.

"Oh poor thing," he coos, glancing over at you. You were sitting on your knees, eyes fixed on his hand moving up and down. "Can I touch you, please?" You asked sweetly, hoping he'd cave and say yes.

"Do you think you deserve it?"

"Yes." You answer a bit too eagerly for your liking.

Mick smiles- the way your eyes followed his every move, bottom lip pulled between your teeth.

"Fine. C'mere." He gives in, only because his hand is tired he tells himself. Not because he knows your hand feels way better than his. You're on your knees, looking up at him. His other hand grips your chin, "what do you say?"

"Thank you," you smiled sweetly at him.

"Good girl."

I know you have but can you tell more about the brothers teaching her how to drivers or the paddock bunnies ?

he's sooooo

your brothers had given up trying to teach you at that point. the reason being; that they loved you too much to let you be a hazard to yourself. you're not manning the wheel in any circumstance, and being driven around.

lewis decided to teach you though.

so one day, you find yourself perched on his lap and he's coaching you through the ride, "you don't need to press your foot all the way down, baby... " he instructs you, manning the wheel as you reach down to step on the gas hesitantly.

"lewis!" you shriek as you felt the car jolt, and he only chuckles, pressing a kiss on your shoulder.

"don't be scared, you can do it dovey." he hums, "i'm here."

𝗕𝗢𝗠𝗕𝗦𝗛𝗘𝗟𝗟 𝗔𝗨 ᥫ᭡ 𝗦𝗣𝗘𝗡𝗖𝗘𝗥 𝗥𝗘𝗜𝗗

˗ˋˏ ʚ♡ɞ ˎˊ˗ Spencer thinks you’re a total bombshell —confident, high maintenance, and so, so pretty. you find yourself similarly obsessed with your dorky, handsome genius.

you meet Spencer and call him beautiful you witness Spencer and Lila Archer you make Spencer jealous you hold Spencer’s hand after his abduction you come for a teasing visit your drunken flirting almost kills him you invite a struggling Spencer over for dinner your motorcycle jacket winds Spencer you and Spencer share a room in Alaska Spencer comforts you after a hard case Spencer gets his boyband haircut Spencer stands you up you take Spencer’s hand when he’s distracted you comfort Spencer on the brink of tears you’re jealous of Spencer and a girl at the bar Spencer reassures you that he likes your flirting Spencer loses his mind over your dress it’s Spencer’s fault when you get hurt Spencer tends to a bad wound you assure Spencer he’s your type you’re hurt by a rude police officer Spencer realises you really truly like him Spencer tortures you, for once don’t think I don’t like you you and Spencer have your first kiss Spencer calms you down when you’re nervous you and Spencer miss you first date Spencer sees you undone for the first time you freak out after being held hostage you’re obsessed with Spencer and his glasses Spencer takes care of you when you’re sick Derek catches you at Spencer’s apartment Spencer calls you a pet name for the first time you and Spencer are interrupted good luck Emily catches you and Spencer in a heated kiss you drunk brag about your new boyfriend you’re secure in your relationship you get your period Spencer likes that you’re high maintenance you get very hurt in the field Spencer watches over your recovery you have your first big fight, you can’t sleep Spencer allots time for your morning kisses you take the leap and ask the big question Spencer returns from prison Spencer struggles to adjust after prison you and Spencer talk about JJ

you comfort Spencer after Maeve

you find out that you’re pregnant together you show Spencer your new necklace you tell the team that you’re pregnant Hotch gives Spencer some paternal advice pregnant!you feel like you’re not yourself you have an angry hormonal meltdown pregnant!you falls down Hotch checks in on pregnant!you and Spencer your daughter is just like you, Spencer loves it Amy video calls you on a case Spencer is wrapped around Amy’s little finger Spencer and Amy take care of sick!you you and Amy visit Spencer in prison