Save A Horse…

save a horse…

ride this cowboy

Favorite fics part. 3

7. Alex Albon:

Hoodie szn (fluff)

Labyrinth (fluff)

Safe and sound (fluff)

8. Arthur Leclerc:

Shut up and get Pt.1; Pt.2; Pt.3 (fluff)

Dim the lights (close your eyes) (fluff)

Keep you warm (fluff)

Him comforting reader (fluff)

9. Mick Schumacher:

Diamonds (smut)

Am I clear? (smut)

Merry ruff-mas (smut)

You don't have to be gentle (smut)

The devil is a fallen angel (fluff)

And When I'm Feeling Alone, You Remind Me Of Home (fluff)

10. Daniel Ricciardo:

Punishment (smut)

Him giving head (smut)

Him taking your virginity (smut)

Something watchful (something jealous) (smut)

Last few pages (smut)

Heat (+MV) (smut)

Face sitting (smut)

Stress reliever (smut)

First time (sweet smut)

Spoiling (fluff)

Possessive and obsessive (fluff)

11. Sebastian Vettle:

Touch my body (smut)

Corruption (teacher!seb) (smut)

Scream! (smut)

Clandestine (smut)

No such thing as I can't (+JB) (smut)

I'd rather take my time (smut)

Something wagered (+JB) (smut)

Reader being insecure about her thighs (suggestive)

Stay with me (fluff)

Sugar daddy (smut and fluff)

Look at her (fluff)

A man after midnight (fluff)

12. George Russle:

All of you (smut)

A helping hand (smut)

A helping hand Part.1; Part.2; Part.3 (smut)

We are not just friends and you know it (smut)

Without my permission (smut)

Across the hall Part. 1; Part. 2 (1. fluff, 2 smut)

I think he knows (fluff)

Gust of wind (fluff)

One bed (fluff)

13. Kimi Raikkonen:

Him using ice (smut)

Only the best for you (smut)

Reader gets injured (fluff)

Spoken admiration (fluff)

Protective shield (fluff)

14. Marcus Armstrong:

Careful daughter (fluff)

Sidewalk rule (fluff)

15. Lewis Hamilton:

Please (smut)

Don't give me that look (smut)

Cry little girl (smut)

16. Jenson Button:

No such thing as I can't (+SV) (smut)

Reader reading spicy books (smut)

Jenson is your boss (smut)

Something devoured (smut)

Innocent mind (smut)

Something wagered (+SV) (smut)

Darling (smut)

Morning rush (suggestive)

Sugar daddy (fluff)

Be your wingman (fluff)

Ugly Christmas sweater (fluff)

17. Toto Wolff:

Something desired (smut)

Sleeping on his back (fluff)

18. Mark Webber:

Swimming (smut)

Christmas music (fluff)

19. Fernando Alonso

Something spoiled (smut)

Your pick (smut)

Reader getting jealous (suggestive)

20. Yuki Tsunoda:

God knows I'm tired (fluff)

MASTERLIST

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Favorite fics masterlist

Part one (Charles) Part Lando Part two Part three Part four

172 notes View Post

pleaseultraviolenceme

1 year ago

rules for my page

only for viewers over the age of 18

requests are always open

minors dni

☏ LATE NIGHT TALKING, op81 voicemail blurb (18+)

☏ MOONY’S VOICEMAIL — a series in which formula one drivers send a voicemail to the reader. what about? prompts may vary. (maybe fluff or smut, idk)

voicemail summary: late at night, oscar sends a voicemail to his partner about missing them. it was a welcome voicemail, to say the least.

content warning: explicit language, smut (minors dni!), mentions of sexual acts, masturbation (m), dialogue heavy, blurb, dirty talking!oscar, my guy oscar is down bad

note: MY HANDS SLIPPED IM SORRY (i think about his voice a lot). did i just make this? yes. is it because i’m thinking about him? yes. this is probably going to be a one-off unless i feel like i should do more or if people like it lol

something sinful (smut) masterlist

a - n masterlist

o - z masterlist

if you’d like to get on one of my taglists, check this post out!

“hey baby. i- uh, it’s 11 pm here in qatar right now. i’m not sure if you saw the race but it was exhausting.” his breath shuddered. fabrics were torn off his body.

“it was a good sprint— i’m sure you saw that. you congratulated me.” he chuckled deeply. “but right now— it’s just extremely exhausting. qatar’s humid. the warmth is disgusting— i took shower more than i should’ve. but i did.”

“now i’m just here in bed and… yeah. i hope you’ve had a good day. i’m certain you did— it’s just uh… ah… i can’t go to sleep.”

“‘ve just been thinking about you,” oscar mumbled, “haven’t seen you for weeks— and not even our videos did any justice.”

“‘s like i need to talk to you in order to get off,” he chuckled, precum leaking out of his cock as he stroked his length with his right hand. “if this day wasn’t as languid you probably would’ve gotten up already— you’re always eager to see me fuck myself with my own hands. you know nobody can stroke me like you do.”

“i- ah,” he moaned quietly, “i’m just thinkin’ about your mouth and the way your tongue would lick at the tip— ‘m rubbing it like how you’d tease me. but i can’t help it.”

“i’d stroke it fast and hard now but all i seem to think about is you and how you’d tease me,” he grunted quietly. “wish it’s your mouth, baby. god~ i wish it’s you sucking my cock right now.”

“but i suppose i have to be patient huh,” he chuckled breathlessly. “good things come to those who wait~ or whatever the fuck they say.”

“but right now i’m just gonna think about you,” he uttered quietly. “i’m gonna think about how you whine and cry about your hole not getting fucked— then i’ll cum to the thought of you getting stuffed full by me.”

“for now, enjoy your day, hm? i’ll talk to you soon. i love you.”

— beep —

973 notes View Post

pleaseultraviolenceme

1 year ago

Man-Flu ~ Fernando Alonso

♡ Fernando Alonso x Reader

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

~fluff~

"Cariño, I think I may be dying."

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

Nobody could ever say your boyfriend wasn't dramatic.

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

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

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

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

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

"I hate being sick."

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

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

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

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

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

"Still can't sleep?" You ask.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

You accidently rouse Fernando from his sleep as you stretch.

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

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

"What was that?" You ask

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

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

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

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

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

"I love you too."

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

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

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

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

492 notes View Post

pleaseultraviolenceme

1 year ago

𝐏𝐀𝐃𝐃𝐋𝐄 𝐓𝐎 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐌𝐄𝐓𝐀𝐋 – 𝐒𝐕𝟓

-> summary: losing a game of lance vs stroll unlocks the competitive and kinky side to sebastian that he had kept down since his rbr days.

-> pairing: sebastian vettel x reader

-> word count: 4.2k

-> warnings: 18+ mdni. extremely competitive seb. long introduction, i’m sorrryyyy. spanking, fingering. perhaps a bit out of character but i tried my best.

sv5 masterlist ୨୧ main masterlist ୨୧ join taglist ୨୧ ask

Lance VS Seb had become a bigger pain in the arse than you ever expected it to be. And you expected quite a lot.

Sebastian Vettel was known for many things. Being a kind person, an activist, a stand-in parent for many of the drivers on the grid who were not fortunate enough for their own fathers to be present. But only one or two drivers remained that remembered Sebastian for his strongest personality trait when he was younger.

His innate desire to win. At whatever the cost.

Having driven Mark Webber to borderline insanity and arguably forced retirement during his blonde, sun-kissed RBR career, Sebastian continued his tirade against anyone who had stood in his way. From Fernando Alonso to his best friend Lewis Hamilton, not one of them escaped the wrath of the German racing machine.

Though the gods appeared to no longer smile on Sebastian the same way they once did, that desire remained in everything he did even after Ferrari had shattered his soul. He put his all into everything, from the F1 season to two days a year at ROC and Grill The Grid, there wasn’t anything he didn’t want to come out on top in.

And that included Lance VS Seb.

The ridiculous way his eyes lit up when you had informed Sebastian that the latest round of silly tasks would be Table Tennis really should have given the heads up that the 34-year-old would act like a total menace. With a singular sentence, he was glowing with the youth of a newly crowned four-time world champion once more.

“I am very good at Table Tennis, you know?” He muses as you walk through the Aston Martin hospitality at the Jeddah track, to the room in which the team was filming for the YouTube channel.

“I am sure, Sebastian.” You answer simply, perhaps a little too sweetly for his taste. You hear him chuckle, and turn your face to see him shake his head in response, that cheeky grin pulling on the corners of his lips. The kind that made his eyes crinkle and made you nervous.

“You don’t believe me. I will prove it to you,” he insists, raising his crooked index finger to the air like he had on so many podiums in his youth. Of course, that championship-winning mindset would never go away.

It was your turn to laugh at that, rolling your eyes playfully. It was charming, seeing him so invested each time in proving to you he had the ability to come out on top in every single one of the little trials.

“It’s not me you have to prove yourself to, it’s the fans,” you point out, acting like a true media representative as you opened the door to the small room in which the table had been set up, paddles resting on the surface. It was just the two of you so far, joined only by the preset cameras on tripods for filming.

“I would much rather prove it to you,” he smirks, “besides, it’s much easier to win when you have an attractive woman cheering for you.” And so it begins, the incessant teasing and flirting that had been happening for many weeks now, and despite your better judgment, you couldn’t tell him to stop.

It had started off slow, at first. Winks when he passed you in the corridor, and cheeky, ambiguous comments that bordered on innuendos. No one ever thought anything of it, knowing Seb to be jokingly flirtatious.

But you weren’t sure he was joking anymore.

“Is that why you were so upset that the grid girls left?” You countered. Goodness he had never stopped complaining. You remembered him, in that Ferrari Red racing suit, complaining like a child that the grid girls had been removed as a regular occurrence from the race day activities.

“Of course, don’t you always feel as though you perform better with an attractive person?” His lips quirked up as he spoke, the innuendo not lost on you.

“Sebastian,” you sigh, exasperated as you look at him with a pointed look. “Please behave while we film this challenge.” He simply raises his hands in mock defeat as Lance Stroll wanders into the room, flanked by the cameramen for the Aston Martin YouTube Channel.

There were the usual formalities, saying hello to the cameramen and giving Lance a hug to the tune of Sebastian asking why you never embraced him like that. Of course, you had answered with ‘because Lance isn’t even remotely as infuriating as you.’

Finally, as Sebastian batted across the table in practice, the cameramen informed the two drivers that they would begin filming soon. In the overall standings of Lance VS Seb, Sebastian was leading by a comfortable 7 - 3. Regardless, you knew that he would be desperate to win Table Tennis most of all, the competitive gleam in his eyes even more prevalent on camera.

When they began filming, Sebastian tossed the ball in the air, catching it again and informing the audience at home of the terms and conditions of the challenge. There’s a back and forth between both drivers, playful teasing.

“This time we chose the challenge ourselves, and we chose to play table tennis,” Sebastian smiled brightly, to which Lance scoffed, shaking his head.

“We? You pretty much insisted, Sebastian!” The younger driver pointed out, causing you to laugh. Sebastian shook his head, pointing the paddle at him. “No no this is equally your decision, Lance!”

After a few minutes of bickering, which you agreed with the cameramen would be cut for the sake of both drivers' integrity, they finally began the challenge with the utmost seriousness. Lowering his center of gravity by bending his knees, Sebastian gazed down the table with the intensity of a racing driver waiting for the lights to go out. Though you’d never admit it, that potent stare you mostly saw behind a helmet before the races always made your cunt flutter.

Taking a deep breath, he throws the ball and taps it across the table with ease. The instantly recognizable ‘tunk tunk' of the ball’s impact with the paddles and table sounded throughout the room. Lance, relatively unbothered by Sebastian’s cut-throat style, stayed practically straight-backed as he lazily batted back.

The first round went to Sebastian, the ball from Lance’s paddle missing the edge of the table and falling in an arch onto the floor. A grin splits across the Germans face, indicating he was pleased with gaining the first point of the game.

Though, the excitement was short-lived. Sebastian only managed to parry the ball back once in the second round before he overshot the table entirely, shouting out a shocked ‘oh!’.

“One all,” the cameraman announced. You giggle as Sebastian glanced over at you with a determination you hadn’t seen in him in a long time. He was insistent upon triumph, simply to prove you wrong.

A few rounds in, and as expected from the two of them, both drivers began to complain that it was hard to see the white ball against the equally white table in an attempt to maintain a level of pride. At this point, both were on an even playing field with a 2 - 2 score, and it was at this point Lance decided he was going to begin taking the challenge seriously.

“Okay, I’m going for the winner,” he declared, finally lowering his center of gravity and Sebastian widened his stance as he served the ball. Back and forth, both drivers batted until Lance’s shot missed the edge of the table entirely.

“Perhaps Sebastian could actually win this,” you muse, leaning back in your seat as the driver shot you a playful glare.

“Watch me,” he insisted, beginning his next serve. The next few rounds were a whitewash, Sebastian seemingly proving himself as he gained point after point against Lance. That natural instinct to dominate, the remnants of his Redbull years taking control of the match.

The purple patch was limited. Eventually, Lance started coming back. One point after the other, he slowly crawled himself to another equal footing with his new determination not to be entirely schooled on camera, much to Sebastian’s dismay and your absolute delight.

“Nein!” Sebastian yells, frustrated at himself for allowing Lance to recover from the significant lead that he lagged behind. The accent you had grown to love and find particularly attractive was strong even in that singular word, his *frustration* emphasizing the Germanic lilt. Passing the ball back to Lance to serve, he throws it at his feet with an ‘oops!’

“You know it’s getting serious when Sebastian starts speaking German,” you wink to Lance, listening to him laugh before turning back to Sebastian. “You shouldn’t be taking your frustration on Lance because you are inept at playing Table Tennis.”

For the first time, Sebastian looks mildly irked by your comment, a witty retort of his own falling from his lips. “Perhaps you shouldn’t be distracting me at such a critical time. I think you’ll find you will end up a sore loser.”

You can’t help but giggle. What was Sebastian going to do? Pester you with F1 facts until you drop dead? Everyone knew the man was a ray of sunshine and didn’t have a bad bone in his body. Even when frustrated over drivers interrupting his qualifying laps, Sebastian would drop his anger at the drop of a hat in order to keep the peace.

But Sebastian is entirely serious about these last few rounds, his knuckles white as he practically strangles the handle of the paddle with his grip. He knocks the ball back with stronger strokes, trying to outflank and outmaneuver Lance. Instead, his desire to win worked against him, leading the opposing driver to end up with a match point.

“Ready, Seb?” Lance spreads his stance, covering as much space across the table as he could to defend his point. Sebastian on the other hand, prepared to attack, ready to slam the ball across the table and take the point back.

This round goes longer than the rest, with quite a few passes between the two of them as you watch on the edge of your seat. Sebastian’s tongue peeks from his mouth, the tip resting against his upper lip as he focuses entirely-

“Go Lance!” You call, throwing Seb completely in his shock at your betrayal. The distraction is exactly what Lance needs to finish it, bouncing the ball off Sebastian’s side of the table and taking the match point. He leaps in the air, cheering as you clap for him with a laugh.

Perhaps you shouldn’t have made such a significant deal about Lance’s victory. Sebastian was quieter than you had ever seen him, fingers brushing over the flat of the paddle as Lance continued his victory lap around the table.

When those ice-blue eyes meet yours, you freeze to your spot on the sofa. There’s a hunger there, a form of frustration you’ve never seen in him. For years, you watched Sebastian try and fail to obtain a WDC with Ferrari, witnessed him grapple with a car he knew would never give him the title he felt he deserved. Looked in those same eyes and felt his disappointment.

This was different. There’s no cold indignation. It’s a playful fire, spurred on by your disloyalty.

All the while the team rounds out the end of the video with the simple sponsorship breakdown from Lance, Sebastian gazes at you with that same expression. It sets a blaze inside you, one that settles between your thighs and creeps up the base of your spine.

It was entirely unlike him. And you loved it.

Packing up their things, the cameramen inform you they will send you the edited clip by the end of the day for approval, and you wave them out of the door despite the rising heat on your face.

“Good game, man.” Lance shakes hands with Sebastian, who shows him that same warm smile that usually graced his face. Had you not been the recipient of that fervent stare, you never would have guessed anything was off with him. Neither did Lance. “See you at practice,” Sebastian shows him out of the room, shutting the door behind Lance’s back.

There’s a flirtatiously unsettling silence that fills the room upon your isolation with the scorned driver. Sebastian looks over his shoulder at you, paddle in hand. Your breath catches in your throat, ears burning as his eyes drag over you.

“Your teasing lost me my game,” he points out, matter-of-fact as he slowly walks across the room with a casual nature that doesn’t match his eyes. You bite on your lip, and excited panic rises in your chest.

“I’m sorry.” It barely comes out louder than a whisper, Sebastian’s smirk knocking the oxygen completely from your lungs. It’s not as though he was a particularly domineering person. No, it was more that you could tell he was plotting something with the way his eyes crinkled in the corners when he grinned.

“Stand up,” he murmurs, voice low but direct. Despite your better judgment, you find yourself stumbling to your feet without argument. It won’t save you though.

Walking behind you, Sebastian continues his reprimanding. “You couldn’t help but dig in that knife, hmm? It made me lose. What am I to do about that?” The cheeky lilt to his voice indicates he’s not actually angry. But God, you feel so turned on at the concept of him telling you off.

You hear it before you feel it. The ‘thwack’ of the paddle in his hand striking the flesh of your ass. Your body jolts in shock, the gasp that forces its way from your throat echoing in the room. Snapping your head over your shoulder to look at him as the sting works its way into your skin in prickling swirls, you note the way Sebastian’s eyes drag over your ass before catching your own.

Nothing is said, he just watches. You realize he’s testing the waters, seeing if you’ll stop him before continuing any further with this fantasy. You don’t bother to halt his advances. You couldn’t if you wanted to, body screaming for him to continue with whatever he had planned.

Without resistance, a quiet groan indicates he intends to do just that. His long, lithe fingers wrap around your wrists behind your back, gently locking them in place as he leads you over to the Table Tennis top.

“Do you remember the German I taught you?” He murmurs as your hips knock the edge of the countertop. How could you forget the times you’d sat up late at night with him on the balcony, trying not to fucking jump his bones and instead letting him coach you through playfully strict German lessons? You nod, not trusting yourself to speak for fear of the sound being obscene.

“Good. You will count.” Your heart lurches in your chest as it meets the flat surface of the Table Tennis top, Sebastian’s freehand with the paddle having gently pushed your back into position.

Pressure between your shoulder blades indicated that Sebastian’s palm was keeping your chest down against the table. You turn your head, cheekbone pressed against the cool surface as you let out a shaky breath, waiting impatiently for him to spank you.

But he doesn’t launch into it. No, he rests the flat of the paddle against your hip, noting the way you flinch at the contact. Drawing circles over your ass, he makes you relax into the table, watching as the tautness in your muscles bled away at the soothing sensation.

“It will be 5.” He informs you, watching as you nod your head slowly in recognition of his instructions.

It happens so quickly, the lack of contact from the paddle, the whistling sound of it arching through the air, and the sudden, loud ‘smack’ that echoed through the room. Despite the way your body jolts immediately upon impact, you don’t feel the pain until seconds later. The prickling, stinging sensation that floods down the back of your thighs.

“Ah- Eins,” you gasp out weakly, mind swimming as you pull at every single brain cell you had to remember the translation. There is a hum of approval from behind you, Sebastian indicating you had gotten it right. Immediately his hand soothes the tingling skin.

“Good,” he instructs you, before hooking his thumbs into the waistband of your pants and slowly pulling them down, exposing the bare skin of your ass. “Again.”

You flush, realizing that Sebastian has your arse out on full display, lace thong-panties not providing much coverage as he lines up the paddle against the exposed surface of your skin. You nod quickly, equally as turned on as you were nervous.

It hurts more this time, with no fabric there to serve as a buffer. The rubber of the paddle connects with your supple flesh in a sharp smack that sounds so much louder this time. Once again your muscles are tight, and this time a subtle warmth settles between your thighs.

“Z-Zwei,” it comes to you naturally this time, falling from your lips in a soft whisper. You feel Sebastian’s fingertips rub soothing circles into the inflicted skin once more, but doesn’t take his time with it this time, striking you suddenly with another flick of his wrist.

“Ah!” Heat sparks over the flesh of your ass, surely welting by now at his ministrations. “Drei!” You can hear Sebastian behind you, unable to see him from this angle. His breathing is labored, hard enough for it to be audible.

He’s watching the way the muscles in your thighs twitch against the pain, noting the way you were enjoying your punishment if the wet patch of fabric in the crotch of your panties was anything to go by. He’d never seen anything so sexy.

This time, you feel him switch cheeks, paddle on the other side of your hips in a slight tap to inform you of the change. “Your skin is so hot. It’s gone pink,” you hear him murmur, slight wonder in his voice.

You open your mouth to answer him but are cut off by another sharp strike. Sebastian watches as your flesh jiggles upon impact, swallowing a groan as you whimper a quiet “Vier.” That one settled deep in your cunt, sparking arousal.

“Gutes Mädchen,” he murmurs, the words not computing in your brain as he brushes comforting circles into your skin once more. “Last one. Make sure I can hear you.” You nod dumbly, eyes closed tight.

He watches as you rub your thighs together, desperate to ease the impending tension in your abdomen. Fuck, he loved it. The way you squirmed, twitched for him as you anticipated the final impact.

This is the loudest yet, the echo bouncing off the walls as you let out a weak cry. Your eyes are welling up with tears, clit throbbing as you fumble your final number. “Fffuh- Fünf!” It was you who was panting now, toes curling.

“So good,” Sebastian murmurs softly, knuckles brushing down the curve of your ass and working them between your thighs before settling his fingertips on your clit. Your legs immediately go boneless, a pathetic sob escaping your lungs as he circles the sensitive bundle of nerves.

“You remembered your lessons so well,” he praises, and you could genuinely break down in tears. Sebastian had never given you any indication he could act this way, the soft, kindhearted man who handed out beers after race days and cleared up litter that the fans left held a fiery side from his youth that genuinely had taken you and your cunt by surprise.

You loved it.

“Come here,” he whispers, taking you by the waist to help you stand up straight again, minding the way you wince as your skin smarts. He hooks his hands above the underside of your knees, gently lifting you up onto the table. His eyes gaze into yours, a hunger there that makes your stomachs do somersaults like an F1 car hurtling towards the barriers at high speed.

You lay back, noting the way the net stretched across the table bends under the pressure of the crown of your head. You close your eyes, nervous as your panties are peeled from your soaking thighs.

“Look at you, Scheiße,” he whispers, fingertips running through the slick that coats the inside of your thighs. It’s obscene, watching as Sebastian gazes down at your cunt. You expect to feel his fingertips find your clit once again, but instead, it’s something much thicker, colder.

It takes you a second to realize that it is the handle of the table tennis paddle that he’s sweeping through your folds, jaw slack as he watches your arousal collect on the laminated wood.

It brushes your clit, causing your cunt to throb with need. You’ve never wanted to be filled so badly, thighs fidgeting in a wordless attempt to get him to fucking do something. There’s a gleam in his eyes in response, and a mixture of concern and arousal swirls in your stomach as his secret master plan.

Without warning, he slips his index and middle fingers into your slick, right cunt. Your back arches against the table with a pathetic whine, the stretch exactly what you needed. You were so responsive to his touch, Sebastian’s dick throbbing in his pants at the way your eyes rolled back.

“Do you like that?” He whispers, his voice low as you clench around his fingers. They pump in and out of you slowly as you nod, dumb from the increasing pleasure that radiates from your core.

“So good for me now,” Sebastian muses, playful in his observation as he watches your pussy slick up his digits. Long, deep strokes have your thighs shaking within moments, needy whimpers stuck in your throat.

Pleasure mounts between your thighs, Sebastian twisting his wrist so his palm and fingertips face the floor, finding a spot inside you that sets your nerves alight. Your attempt to moan his name comes out in a garbled mess, and your hands desperately grab at his wrists in a feeble attempt to ease the onslaught of mind-blowing pleasure that flows through you.

It’s so good, too good, too much, and not enough at the same time. The noises you’re making are obscene, and Sebastian smirks at the way he’s reduced you to a shaking, sobbing wreck.

“Spread your legs wider,” he orders, his gruff voice laced with a much stronger accent than you usually heard from him. It has your cunt fluttering around him, tight around the ring finger that he attempts to ease inside you.

You do as he asks despite the haze that clouds your mind and vision. That white-hot feeling glows around your body, muscles pulled up so tight and tense you’re afraid your hamstring could snap with the simple action.

A sloppy, wet sound punctuates each thrust of his fingers, followed by a low groan of his own. “That’s it, Schatzi.” He breathes, fingers keeping that brutal pace. “I can feel you’re close.” You garble his name, the last syllable pitching up in a squeak.

It’s too much, vocalizing nonsense as it builds up so high you can barely breathe. You’ve stamen too much air into your lungs and yet you feel like you need more, the tension reaching a peak and threatening to snap-

Sebastian grabs the paddle once more, slapping the flat of the bat between your thighs and connecting with your clit. It cracks through you like a whip, hot and melting and vicious- then nothingness. Suspended. A few seconds pass, holding you hostage in your own body until it plummets, roiling waves of intense ecstasy that borders on being painful, your cunt clenching around his fingers.

You’re squealing, sobbing, tears falling from your eyes and dampening your hairline as you thrash against the sensation, head rocking from side to side as you slur his name. It’s so intense-

Sebastian works you through it, hushing you softly as he helps you ride the overwhelmingly acute sensation. Is there with you for every moment until it’s too much, pushing away his fingers as overstimulation hits you like a tonne of bricks.

Your chest heaves as you suck in air, eyes closed. Sebastian is on you in seconds, smoothing your hair back from your face and pressing kisses to your forehead and cheekbones, and nose. It’s hard not to laugh weakly, exhausted but relieved to be in his care. To have him to hold you.

“I- I didn’t expect that from you,” you whisper through your intakes of breath. You hear him chuckle, pressing another kiss to your temple that was wet with tears.

“I didn’t expect it from myself,” he admitted quietly. “Perhaps there is still a spark of the young world champion in there somewhere.” He muses.

A pause.

“He never left,” you smile weakly, entirely exhausted and thoroughly fucked out. “I could tell you that just from seeing you compete with Lance over a game of fucking table tennis!”

To that, he laughs, eyes crinkling in the corners. “Oh, no. I just can’t have someone younger than me beating me. How would that look?”

“You’re a sore loser,” you grumble, watching him release you in order to kneel at your feet.

Turns out you were the sore loser, the red marks printed against your ass smarting under your touch as Sebastian replaced your panties with a wink.

END

Tag list: @welld0nebaku @oneafterdark @yeolsbubbles @byunniebaekhyunnie

1K notes View Post

pleaseultraviolenceme

1 year ago

THE COWBOY HAT RULE

🖇️ in which you, respectively, ride the cowboy

🖇️ part two to the cowboy daniel fic! sorry to keep you waiting this long. hope you enjoy 🤍

🖇️ warnings smut, like literally 4k words of smut.

🖇️ daniel ricciardo x mercedes!race engineer!reader

🖇️ the smut part of my smut with plot fic. part one is here.

You’re not sure what prompts you to kiss Daniel first.

You’re in the taxi on the way to the hotel, his hand resting on your thigh and your eyes on his, and it’s a mere moment before you feel yourself leaning in and kissing him.

Daniel’s eyes go wide but he smirks against your lips, one of his hands coming up to hold onto your face and pull you in closer. The air’s thick and mixed with the warmth of his lips, you’re sure you’ll melt into a puddle beneath his fingertips.

It’s all a blur from this point on. All you remember is his lips moulding perfectly against yours, his hands on the small of your back and the sounds of his hotel room door locking.

Daniel’s hands move rhythmically on your body, softly tugging on your hair as you’re pressed up against the hotel room door. The lingering taste of liquor on his lips and tongue mixed with the taste of *him makes you weak. You feel your arms wrap around his neck and play with the curls at the base of his neck, causing him to smile against your lips.

Daniel pulls away, his hand firmly gripping your face and a look of lust in his eyes. There’s something so soft about the tight hold he has on your jaw, yet something so vicious lying between the shades of brown that are staring at you.

You feel yourself slipping deeper into your feelings for him when he softly pecks your lips, letting his hand slip down to your neck, continuing to hold it tightly enough for you to freeze under his touch. Your heartbeat quickens when he leans in closer to your ear. “All mine.”

Something about the possessive tone of his voice made you that much more weak.

Daniel pulls away to look at your face again, his grip on your neck tightening and causing you to tilt your head up to loosen it. “All fuckin’ mine.” He grips your face and forces you to look at him. “Say it.”

You open your mouth to speak, but the tightness of his hand on your neck makes your mouth run dry. Daniel notices it and lets go, instead holding your jaw. “I’m yours, Daniel. All yours.”

“That’s right, baby,” he pulls you back in for a kiss, his hands finding their place on your hips as he leads both of you to the bed. You straddle his lap with the intention of riding the cowboy like he intended you to, but Daniel’s in no rush to get your clothes off.

The warmth of his kisses spread out over your face and down your neck, sounds of pleasure already threatening to escape your lips. His tongue swirls over a patch of your skin on your collarbone before his teeth gently dig into your flesh. You gasp softly, but the pain gets soothed by his tongue smoothing over the bite.

“This is so wrong,” you say, under your breath. You don’t want to stop feeling his lips on your skin, and neither does he want to stop kissing you, but fact is that *this is wrong. And you have no intention of making it right.

The curly haired australian nods, bringing his lips back up to meet yours. “So wrong.” He agrees, practically speaking into your mouth with how hard he’s kissing you. He knows it’s wrong, to some extent, yet he can’t help but enjoy every second of this. He dreads the moment he has to pull away from you and go back to living life without feeling your lips on his own.

He places soft kisses on your shoulder, his fingers resting the zipper of your dress, waiting for permission to undo it, as if he hasn’t undone you entirely just by mere touch.

“Take it off,” you whisper, looking down at his honey eyes when he pulls away from marking what’s his. Daniel’s fingers softly undo your zipper, pushing the top of the dress off of your shoulders. It pools at your waist and you watch as Daniel’s eyes linger on your body— it looks like he’s trying to memorise every feature of you in just that one glance.

The love-tinted shade in his eyes turns back into lust when his teeth find your shoulder, softly nibbling and leaving his mark, all while your lips emit the quietest moans.

Daniel softly places you down on the bed, his lips trailing down your chest. You feel his hand snake around your back and he unclasps your bra using one hand, while the other’s slowly tugging the dress further down your body. The sound of the bra dropping to the floor distracts you just enough for Daniel to make you gasp again, when his tongue swirls around your right nipple before softly sucking on it.

He licks around it once more before letting his tongue run across your chest and to the other breast, repeating the same action as he did on your right.

You’ve been hesitant to let yourself be vocal. Mainly because you don’t want to give Daniel the satisfaction of knowing he’s doing something to you, that he’s pleasing you. So instead of giving in and moaning when he marks your skin with his teeth, you bite your bottom lip and hold back any sound.

Daniel’s lips trail down your belly, soft kisses lining his path to the place you need him most. He lifts your hips and tugs off the dress, throwing it to the floor. You feel his head dip back to your abdomen again, but he doesn’t move his kisses past the waistband of your panties.

He stays there, teasingly kissing your stomach and you feel the ache between your legs getting unbearable. “Daniel.”

“Hm?” He lifts his head, a look of mischief in his eyes. He’s teasing. You look at him, a little shy to ask for more, knowing that’s exactly what he wants. “What do you need, princess?” He kisses your stomach again, the softness in his voice making you throb.

“You know what I need,” you mumble, your fingers coming down to play with his hair.

Daniel pulls away again, still staying situated between your legs, but his brown eyes stare straight up at you. His breath is warm against your skin when he says, “I won’t do anything if you don’t tell me what you want, baby.”

You roll your eyes. He’s still as annoying as usual, but you’re so close to getting him where you need him, so you don’t give that up. “I want you… down there.”

“What was that?” Daniel laughs, pretending he couldn’t hear you. “You want me where?”

“Down there.”

Daniel’s fingers ghost over your clothed clit, making your hips chase the barely-there touch. He runs a finger down it again, letting it press against your clothed entrance. A smirk appears on his lips when he feels the damp spot on your panties.

“Down here?” He looks back up at you, clearly pleased with how wet he has you. “Use your words, sweetheart.”

“Mhm,” you hum when he traces your slit with his finger again. You look down at him, rolling your eyes at the smirk on his lips. “Please?”

“Please, what?”

You roll your eyes again. “You’re so annoying.” You mumble under your breath. Daniel wants you to beg for him, to use his name. He needs to know you want him to please you, not just the pleasure. And you know that he wants that. The only problem is you’ve never been keen on giving people what they want.

“C’mon, sweetheart.” He coos. “You know you want my lips on your pretty pussy.” He completely pulls away, his eyes burning holes into you with the intensity of his stare. The second his hands and face pull away from your body, you miss the comfort of it.

“Daniel, please.” You beg, adding a little more whine to your voice so he doesn’t make you beg more. “I need you.”

“Do you need me or do you just need the pleasure?” He asks, seeming to be obsessed with the idea that you need him and not just an orgasm. Daniel needs to know he’ll be more than just a quick fuck. He knows you don’t do quick fucks, or else it wouldn’t have taken him this long to have you like this, quivering under his touch everytime he teases you through your panties.

“I need you, Daniel.” You look at him with pleading eyes, tired of the teasing and longing for more than just his barely-there touch. “Please.”

Next thing you know, Daniel’s fingers are hooking around the waistline of your panties and pulling them off. Still painfully fucking slow, but at least he’s doing something other than teasing you. Your panties fall to the floor with barely a sound and Daniel’s lips are slowly kissing their way down your thigh.

You let out a soft moan when his teeth dig into the soft flesh on your femur, leaving another mark there, as if it was proof. As if anyone needed to know that Daniel was there. It’s not like there was anyone other than Daniel that’s touched you like this, anyway, so the marks were more so for you than for anyone else.

Like a keepsake.

Something so sacred and so precious that it mustn’t be shared with the world. Your little secret. It feels almost religious, the way his lips caress your thighs and how he bites you with the hunger of a starved man. Now, he got a taste of your lips and he can’t get enough.

Daniel tries his best not to eat you out immediately, but the urge grows stronger with every soft whimper and plea that leaves your lips as his teeth dig into your skin.

He’s taking so painfully long, the ache between your legs getting almost unbearable. Daniel’s lips kiss your inner thigh and finally, his head dips lower.

“So wet for me, love,” he says, under his breath as he’s taking in the beauty of you. He can’t get enough of you, the more he sees. You feel him spread you open, and so you spread your knees apart giving him more space.

One of his fingers slowly rubs your sensitive clit, already throbbing at the mere thought of him touching you. You feel a slender finger of his slowly tease your hole as his thumb sloppily rubs your clit. He’s still teasing, despite seeing how badly you’re squirming under his touch.

Just when you’re about to beg again, you feel his tongue make contact with your clit and your eyes flutter closed. His tongue flicks over your throbbing bud and you bite back a moan. You feel him smile against your core as he lathers his finger up in your wetness and slowly pushes it inside you. You can’t fight the moans anymore, his finger pumping in and out, and his tongue on your clit getting too much to handle.

The dizziness of an orgasm slowly floods your brain as he pleases you so harmoniously. His tongue moves in tune with his fingers and the vibration of his own moans adds that extra bit of pleasure you were chasing.

“I’m close,” you manage to whisper under your breath. Daniel’s tongue adds more pressure on your clit and his fingers curl inside you, and your hand slides down to grip onto something just so you don’t completely collapse into the mattress. Your fingers tug on his curls and Daniel groans into you.

“C’mon, sweetheart,” he urges you, pulling away for a mere second yet the absence of his tongue made you crave it even more.

It takes just that one last petname for you to come undone on his fingers. You feel Daniel lapping you up, licking every last bit of you up before he pulls away and licks his fingers clean. His lips return to attacking your neck as he pulls off his cum-soaked boxers.

All it took was hearing those sweet, sweet sounds coming from your mouth and he was coming undone, too.

You’ve barely recovered from the orgasm when you feel Daniel reach over and grab a condom from the drawer of the hotel nightstand. You watch with half-lidded eyes as he tears the small packet open with his teeth, spitting the trash somewhere to the floor and next thing you know, he’s rolling the condom onto himself, and aligning his dick with your entrance.

“Dan-” you get cut off with the painfully slow thrust that stretches you out unlike anyone has ever before. You didn’t expect him to be so big. He bottoms you out so perfectly, it makes you hum in content.

“You like that?” Daniel looks down at you, the playful smile never leaving his lips. “You like me filling you up? Huh, pretty girl?” He says, in between kisses to your neck.

Daniel hasn’t moved yet, letting you adjust to the size of him. And also because he likes to just watch you— the anticipation on your face as you wait for him to move, that single teardrop in your right eye at the feeling of him stretching you out, the crimson red in your cheeks from what happened just minutes ago.

When you feel Daniel pull out, as slow as possible, you feel some sort of relief. It’s only when he starts pushing back in, that you lock eyes with him and shake your head. “Wait.”

Daniel nods his head at you, his eyes half-lidded and looking deep into yours. “You can take it, c’mon.” His deep, australian accent stirs up some sort of feeling in your belly.

You feel his fingers brush hair away from your forehead, Daniel thrusting in as slowly as he can. The last thing he wants to do is hurt you and make this displeasurable for you. But he knows he’s big and he knows exactly how to use it.

He pulls out again, his lips trailing soft kisses down your neck. The way you moan his name hasn’t left his head since the first time, and hearing the absence of it makes him want to be aggressive, fuck you til you can barely think, use you like you’re his toy. But you’re not. He wouldn’t let himself treat you like that, no matter how much he’d want to.

You feel more comfortable now with the size of him, yet he’s still so careful with you. You feel his fingers softly caress your cheek as his hand comes down from pushing hair away from your face, and he keeps kissing you in a way that feels almost like he’s worshipping you.

“That okay?” You feel his voice vibrate against your neck when he speeds up his thrusts just a little. “Tell me what you need, love, I’ll take care of you.”

The way he’s so gentle paired with his accent makes you squirm underneath him. “Faster, ah shit—“ You can’t even finish your thought when you feel him pulling out and thrusting into you faster than before. “Harder, I need… Need to feel you.”

“Is that so?” You feel his lips pull into a smirk against your skin. He’s marking you up again. You’re not sure how you’ll hide all the hickeys, and, frankly, you don’t think you want to. It’s hot how possessive he is of you, despite you not being his.

The amount of marks he’s left on your body is only half as much as he’s been dreaming of.

Daniel knew this moment would come sooner or later. So many sleepless nights, jerking off to the thought of your pretty little self wrapped around him, moaning his name. It almost feels like a dream, now that it’s become reality.

“Daniel,” you moan his name, your hand reaching down to play with your clit as you feel another orgasm approaching. “I’m…”

Daniel understands you without words, keeping up the same pace, but rolling his hips against yours as you chase your high. He feels himself twitch inside you, his own orgasm soon to follow.

The Australian doesn’t answer you, instead moaning out your name, followed by a few curse words, as his thrusts become sloppy. Your walls pulse around him and that tips him over the edge as you both come undone. “Fuck,” he mumbles into your mouth, sloppily kissing you with the dizziness of his orgasm still lingering. “You did so good for me, baby.”

“Mhm,” all you can do is hum. Your eyes are closed and you’re so tired you could sleep, but Daniel’s not done with you. You feel him pulling out and discarding the condom, and you’re sure you’ll both go to sleep now. But you’re proven wrong when he flips you over and sits you down in his lap, him leaning back against the headboard.

“You think you can gimme another one?” He asks, tucking a strand of hair behind your ear. He smiles softly when you shake your head. “You can’t take it?”

You look at him and realise he’s referring to his cock. The angle at which you’ll be riding him will allow him to completely fill you up, and that thought turns you on. “I can.”

“Knew you could.” Daniel pulls you by the neck, so you lean down, and kisses you. Less hungry, less aggressive. You feel a soft touch on your hips, his hands gripping them ever so gently to guide you back onto his cock. You whimper into his mouth when he stretches you out again. “I know, baby.” Daniel mumbles against your lips.

You brace your hands where his shoulders join his neck, and you earn a low moan from Daniel’s lips. Daniel’s hands are still on your hips and you feel him slowly moving them, helping you adjust as his mouth catches all the quiet moans and whimpers.

He pulls your hips down as far as they go and it hurts you in the best way, your fingers curling around the base of his neck. The vibration of a moan travels underneath your fingers and escapes through his lips, and you feel the grip of his fingers tighten on your hips.

Both of you moan into each other’s mouths and your hips jolt forward at the feeling of Daniel biting your bottom lip. He grips your hips and keeps you still as he continues attacking you with his lips. “Don’t rush.”

You feel his grip lighten on your hips and he helps you slowly move them. So slowly there’s barely any movement, but you prefer it this way. Maybe next time, you’ll ask him to fuck your brains out.

Daniel groans again when your fingers grip his neck tighter. It’s only then you realise he likes to be choked and the smallest smirk grows on your lips. Daniel can’t help but subconsciously buck his hips, thrusting into you. “Fuck.”

He needs you as badly as you need him, and that alone could make you melt into a puddle.

You trail kisses down his stubble, feeling the outline of his jaw with your lips. On his neck, you reciprocate the same thing he’s done to you this whole night. You suck on his tan skin and bite down softly in his shoulder, the rumble of his deep growl turning you on.

“Eager, aren’t we?” He says between strained breaths, when your lips trace over the side of his neck. You place tiny kisses before softly sucking on it and hearing the exact noises you expected to hear. He groans, trying his best to hold it in, but he can’t resist.

The noises he makes, the rasp and the groans, all make you want him even more and your hips start moving subconsciously. You moan against his shoulder when he helps you grind your hips into his.

You keep up the same pace and continue marking his skin. Daniel’s melting under your lips, and you feel every little shiver of his body when your skin ghosts over the sensitive parts of his skin. Your hands have found their way to the back of his head, playing with the soft curls as your hips slowly speed up, granting you a smile from the Australian's lips and a shaky breath leaving his nose.

“This okay?” You ask, pulling back to look at the mess of a man under you. The curls at the front of his head are stuck to his forehead, his eyes half-lidded and lips parted in such an inviting way. This sight alone makes you wonder what took you so long to do this.

Daniel nods, his hands softly speeding your thrusts up. His breath hitches and he looks at you. “That’s perfect, baby.”

You smile softly, watching how Daniel’s lips part when your thumb softly caresses his bottom lip. You lean in and kiss him gently, feeling how the last bit of your night is slipping past your fingertips. But the way he’s reacting to you, and the way he so carefully fucked you, makes you think that this isn’t the last time you’ll be close like this.

The quickening pace causes you to whimper into his mouth, his hands grabbing your hips again when you don’t keep up the pace yourself. “C’mon, cowgirl. I know you can do it.”

Daniel watches as you bring your hand down to where you’re both joined, and it turns him on to see you pleasuring yourself while he’s inside you. You rub your clit, sloppily and tired, and the soft gasps and moans leaving your mouth cause Daniel to speed up the pace himself.

His hands are still guiding your hips, but now he’s fucking into you and both of you bask in the noises of skin-to-skin contact and your shaky moans. Your breath hitches when you try to speak through your high-pitched moans.

You feel the rush of your third orgasm flooding in, taking over any ability to communicate with the man underneath you. He can feel your walls closing on his cock, his own release coming sooner than he’d thought. You speed up your pace and arch your back when you ride him, feeling him hitting your cervix. It takes less than a few seconds before both of you reach your climax, Daniel’s fingers digging into your hips and your hands holding onto his neck, applying just enough pressure for him to enjoy it.

Daniel’s chest heaves when he pulls you down to lay on him. You’re inhaling his intoxicating scent as his fingers brush through your hair and he kisses your hairline. “We gotta clean you up, baby.”

“Mm, no.” You shake your head, wrapping an arm around his torso. “Tired.”

“You won’t need to do a thing.” Daniel kisses your forehead again and picks you up, carefully carrying you into the bathroom and sitting you down on the toilet as he starts up a bath for you. You watch the way his back stretches as he turns off the tap and the way he swirls his hand in the water to check the temperature. He turns back to you with the softest look in his eyes. He hooks his arms underneath your knees and arms, picking you back up and placing you in the tub.

“Fancy,” you say with a small smile, your fingers tapping the black marble on the wall. You feel the water quickly warming you up and relaxing you, and you lean back into the tub with a pleased sigh. Daniel starts helping you wash up and you look up at him, his eyes looking at you as softly as they did back at the club. “Why won’t you get in?”

“Do you want me to?” His smooth voice blooms butterflies in your belly. Daniel stands up and gets into the bath across from you when you softly nod. He pulls you to sit with your back leaning against his chest, and you sink into his embrace. He pulls your hair back from your face to get a clearer look at you. “Princess?”

You turn your head to look at him. “Hm?”

He softly cups your jaw and turns you to face him further, his lips softly brushing against yours. Daniel pulls away and looks at you, examining your face. “Let me wash your hair for you.”

The gentleness of the question made you think for a second that, maybe, you could do this more often. Maybe someday you could be more than this.

Daniel’s fingers softly worked the shampoo into your wet hair, his fingertips massaging your scalp in a way you’ve never felt. He smiles when you sigh in relief. “Feels good?”

“Very,” you mumble, completely unaware of how lovingly Daniel’s looking at you.

You feel him tracing a finger down your spine, softly caressing your back as he does so. He washes the soap away, careful not to get it in your eyes. The gentleness in his calloused hands was astonishing. You felt it back when he was gripping your hips, or when his hands just travelled your body. It amazed you how such rough hands could be so gentle.

Daniel helps you soap the rest of your body, his hands carefully travelling over your skin as if he’s afraid to hurt you. You help him do the same.

He’s the first to get out, his hair dripping onto the tile floors as he grabs a towel to put on the floor and another towel to dry you off. The Australian helps you dry your hair, careful as always. His arms hook around your legs and arms again, carrying you back to the bed.

You watch him as he bends down to his suitcase, grabbing two pairs of boxers and one shirt. He tugs the black boxers on and makes his way to you. Daniel helps you put the orange boxers on, smiling when you become shy the closer he gets.

“Sit up.” You do as told and Daniel puts the shirt on you. You look down to see that it’s a dark grey shirt with a faded rock band’s logo on it. Daniel meets your gaze and you both smile at each other, slightly awkward and maybe a little nervous.

Daniel lays down in his spot on the bed, leaving some space between you two. You turn to him and lay your head on his shoulder, his arm wrapping around you. The steady rise and fall of his chest makes for a perfect lullaby as your eyes begin to close.

His voice cuts you off from falling asleep. “Do you still hate me?”

“Definitely.”

“Just as much?” His puppy dog eyes look down at you, waiting to see if you’re serious or not.

“Hm… Maybe,” you pinch your fingers, bringing your hand up to show him the space between your pointer finger and thumb, “a little less.”

Daniel laughs at your answer, before kissing your lips and pulling you closer into him. “Good to know.”

🖇️ taglist for this fic: @taina-eny @itsallrandomcontent @barnestatic @ilove-tswizzle @thatsouthernblondewiththeass @marianastudiesart @macintosh-44 @moonvr @formula1mount @brettlorenzi3 @oscarssgirl @akimh @imalishaa

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pleaseultraviolenceme

1 year ago

Sebastian Vettel where you’re Mattia Binotto’s daughter (you’re in your mid twenties). Including prompt 34 and 55.

I’m thinking 2020 Seb where he’s probably quite frustrated with Ferrari which leads to him taking it out on you. Maybe in Mattia’s office on his desk. You’ve been into Seb for a while (bc who wouldn’t be??) and let him do whatever he wants to you.

okay yeah, you get me. // prompts: “take it like a good slut.” + “gonna ruin all that pretty makeup”

It hurt to see him like this.

Everyone knew that this was his dream; driving the red car, wearing the red suit, winning a championship for the team he loved so much and yet, they failed him. Sebastian had broke the news that he was leaving Ferrari and headed to Aston Martin come 2021 and it was safe to say, it caused a stir in the team.

You had no idea Seb was thinking of leaving; you knew he had mentioned it but you didn’t expect it to go so quickly.

It wasn’t until the Friday post practice that you bumped into the man in the hallway. “Hey,” you smiled at him. Sebastian stopped to say hello, giving you a hug.

“Packed your bags already?” You joked, earning a smile from him. “Kicking me out so soon?”

“If it were up to me, you’d be here until you win and win and win, and everyone is sick of you and that stupid red car.”

“Don’t say that about the car,” he told you, “it’s not her fault.”

“Yeah okay,” you hum.

Sebastian was quiet for a minute, “what are you doing here? You aren't one to hide from the madness.” he laughed and you shrug, “wanted to see how you were doing.” You admitted to him, “I think things haven’t been easy.”

The man looked at you, something about the way you looked at him was undeniable. There was something between the two of you, even if neither of you admitted it.

Sebastian grabs you by the waist, pulling you to him. Your hand flat on his chest, balancing yourself. “Seb,” you mumbled and his blue eyes find yours.

“What?” He leans in to kiss you, lips ghosting over yours. “I know you feel it too.”

Your hand rests on his jaw, closing the gap between the two of you. Sebastian’s hands wander down to your ass, your body pressed flush against his. You could feel his hands wandering a bit more but you stop him before it goes too far.

“Not here,” you mumbled and he grabs your hand, pulling you through the first door he finds. You’re on top of the desk before you could complain.

“We can’t,” you whisper to him, knowing that even if the door is shut, it’s unlocked and anyone could walk in at any given moment.

“No one is coming, baby.” He tells you, his hand snaking further up your thighs. His fingers brushed against the lace under your shorts.

“Let me take this off you, hm? Want to see how pretty you look.” He says, helping you take them off.

Your shorts in a pile on the floor as you sat on the desk in front of him, legs spread and his face buried between your legs. Your fingers tangled in his curls, pulling him closer as his tongue lapped over your clit, his hands pushing your closing thighs apart.

It was taking all of him not to bend you over the desk and fuck you until you scream his name but you know, decorum is needed; this was still a workplace.

Your grip on his hair tighter than before, his name strung along with the explicits leaving your mouth. “Sebastian,” you call, your hand on his cheek.

He glances up at you, his blue eyes finding yours; him between your legs was a sight you always loved to see but right now, you needed him.

“What is it, baby?” He sits up and you lean forward, grabbing his face. Your lips against his, “fuck me, please.”

Your cheeks are red when you see him sit up, the lower half of his face glistening. You also can’t help yourself when you pull him down for a kiss, tasting yourself on him. Seb doesn't waste any time, he pushes your legs back, pulling you to the edge of the desk by your legs and he settles between your legs; one pulled over his shoulder and the other around his hip.

He pushed into you, one of his hands over your mouth to keep you quiet.

Your eyes find his again, your hand wrapping around his wrist when he slips two fingers into your mouth.

You feel his hips dig into the back of your thighs, he leans down, lips against your ear when he moves his hand from your mouth. “Keep quiet, pretty girl. Take it like a good slut.” He kisses along your jaw, “you wouldn't want them to find us, hm?”

You find your body betraying you, hips bucking towards Sebastian, his hand gripping your hip to hold you in place.

He's in charge and you both know it, letting him set the pace; slow and steady and it was driving you insane.

Seb pulls his fingers away, wiping his hand across your bare chest. “God, please Seb, like that,” the words tumble out, begging him for more as he fucks you. His hands squeezing your hips, nails digging into your flesh.

“Gonna ruin all that pretty makeup, hm?” He leans down to kiss you.

558 notes View Post

pleaseultraviolenceme

1 year ago