Bestie Idk What Would Even Be The Plot Of Something Like This But I Have Been Thinking Majorly Abt Carlos

"still?" "always."

Finnick Odair x hijacked!reader who asks what's real or not real [2k words]

summary: a District Thirteen reunion story heavily inspired by the brilliant @ervotica's fic 'a life of our own' & @/ilguna's 'hijacked'! Reader was tortured much like Peeta was into fearing Finnick, finding her playing the game 'real or not real'

CW: fem!reader, discussion of past torture [not described], reader tortured into believing Finnick did abhorrent and disgusting things to her [not described], medical personnel acting as villains sort of, hurt/comfort, hopeful/open ending

Finnick drummed his fingers against the paperback book that he brought with him to your hospital room every day which acted as nothing more than a glorified prop. 

Routine was a word that came to dictate much of Finnick’s life recently; stability. Ritualized schedules were the norm in District Thirteen. But more importantly, routine, stability, and ritualized schedules were deemed necessary and important to your recovery. 

Thus, Finnick drummed his fingers against the paperback book - the same paperback book - that he brought with him to your hospital room every day - at the exact same time - which acted as nothing more than a glorified prop. 

He’d been following more or less the same routine ever since you’d been rescued from the Capitol a few weeks ago, though Finnick could admit visiting you felt slightly better now than it had in the beginning. 

The beginning had been nothing short of heartbreaking for him. The beginning had been nothing short of torturous for you. 

There’d been a hunch in place of hard evidence that the lot of you were being tortured in the Capitol, though to what extent no one knew. And absolutely no one was prepared for what awaited them by the time the three of you were safe in District Thirteen.

Peeta had promptly tried to off Katniss which was very off brand of him; Johanna’s head had been shaved, she was emaciated, and had a plethora of evidence of gruesome physical torture, and you…

You weren’t filled with the same loathing, hatred, and disgust that Peeta seemed to carry for Katniss. No, you were completely and utterly terrified. 

Medics had to sedate you when Finnick rushed into the room upon hearing of your arrival because you’d thrown yourself against the wall so violently you’d split your head open, then nearly ripped your nails clean off your fingers in your desperation to open a locked door in an attempt to escape from him. And if that hadn’t been devastating enough, the sounds of your guttural screams and desperate cries caused by him still haunted many of Finnick’s nightmares.

Finnick had been hesitant to return to you after that; he didn’t want to ever cause you that much distress again. 

Haymitch tried to reason with him; Finnick wasn’t the one causing you this much distress, it was the Capitol. The medics tried to reason with him; it was to be considered exposure therapy, they hoped that - over time - as you regained some familiarity and comfort with him and worked through your memories and trauma with the doctors that you’d start to remember.

He reluctantly agreed. So, he was horrified when, the first day he returned, you’d been strapped down to your bed in preparation for his meeting. 

“This is sick!” He’d shouted at the medics as he gestured at your current state. “This isn’t exposure therapy, this is torture!”

“Mr. Odair, the hope is that once she begins to realize there’s no need to fight or run, we’ll be able to take the restraints off.” One of them explained in a bored manner. 

“Fuck whatever you’re hoping for! You’re torturing her; she’s not going to feel any safer here than she did in the Capitol!” 

They’d tried calling after him, but he simply looked over at you and offered a pathetic “I’m sorry, honey” that you probably hadn’t heard over your own desperate wails before he fled.

The next day he returned, you hadn’t been strapped down, but you had been heavily medicated with some kind of sedative before his arrival. He swallowed around the bile in his throat as he took a seat in one of the chairs, pretended to read his book and tried his hardest to ignore the extremely wary and haunted gaze that stayed glued to his side for the entirety of his visit. 

The third visit went much the same, except about halfway through his scheduled ‘visit’, he noticed that your eyes seemed to fall extremely heavy. 

“Are you tired, sweetheart?” He murmured quietly, though you would have thought he’d screamed at you with the way you bodily flinched and your eyes snapped open. 

He just continued watching you as you fought to convince your heart to return to its normal tempo, slowly, cautiously nodding your head yes to his question when you seemed to realize he was earnest in his question. 

“Would you like me to leave so you can get some rest?” 

Your brows furrowed ever so subtly, eyes darting across his face as you searched for any hidden meaning or potential threat. 

You must not have found one. 

“Please.” You whispered, and - though it was still but a whisper -  it was the first time he had heard your voice since the Quarter Quell that wasn’t shrieking and sobbing in fear, causing a lump to form in his throat.

“Okay, honey, I’ll go.” He whispered back, smiling at you through tears as he stood and swiftly left the room, hardly closing the door fully behind him before he let out a sob. 

Over the weeks, you began finding your own routine and schedule outside of the time you spent working with doctors and medics. You were hardly ever seen without your journal on your person, and one of your doctors explained to Finnick that you were beginning to compile notes to differentiate between things you knew, things that you didn’t know, and what was real or not real. Many times, Finnick could find you working in your journal when he arrived, and though you still managed to keep a concerned eye on him at any given point and your body never fully relaxed while he was there, he was grateful you were becoming more or less accustomed to his company. 

And then one day he showed up to your room to find one wall completely transformed into a giant drawing board. The board was divided into two equal sides; one side was labelled REAL and one side was labelled NOT REAL. The only thing that had been written down so far was on the NOT REAL side, which read “Finnick did not set you up and leave you there to die.”

“She’s been struggling to sleep without the aid of sedatives; she wakes up quite violently from nightmares, struggling to differentiate between what is real and what is not, even when we’re standing right there in front of her.” One of the medics told him. “We tried once to have her look through her journal, but she threw it across the room and told us to get away from her. We thought maybe having a very large visualization in front of her in her own writing would be helpful to tether her to reality upon waking.” 

And that seemed all well in good, but Finnick found himself sick over some of the things the Capitol had convinced you he was guilty of more than once. 

But, if this is what you needed, if this was helping you, Finnick would stomach it, no questions asked. 

So, Finnick drummed his fingers against the paperback book that he brought with him to your hospital room every day which acted as nothing more than a glorified prop. 

He knocked twice gently on your door before stepping inside, watching as you stepped quickly away from the board and hid the marker and eraser behind your back as if you’d been caught doing something you weren’t supposed to, watching Finnick as though you were waiting for him to attack. 

“Hi, honey.” He greeted quietly, nodding politely at you before he pulled out his chair and took his place, flipping his book open to an arbitrary page as he pretended to read. 

You didn’t move; your feet seemed to be glued to the spot as you watched Finnick pretend to not be watching you. He wasn’t ashamed to admit that he had missed your gaze, quite selfishly, and found that while the atmosphere wasn’t exactly relaxed, he was happy enough just to have your eyes on him again. 

Finnick wasn’t sure how much time had passed before you ended up breaking the silence.

“F…Finnick?” You asked, barely above a whisper; question so quiet that Finnick was sure if he hadn’t only been pretending to read, he would have missed it entirely.

You sounded as though you were trying his name out for size, just to see how it felt on your tongue. Finnick missed the days when you used to squeal his name in laughter, or groan his name in frustration, or call his name in excitement. But even though it came out cautious and stilted, he didn’t think he’d ever heard as pretty a sound as the sound of his name falling from your lips. 

“Yes, sweetheart?” He asked eagerly, fighting to keep his tone, face, and body language calm as he saved his ‘place’ with a finger and leaned forward in his chair, resting his knees on his elbows. 

You swallowed thickly and fiddled with the marker in your hands as you stole yourself to speak. “Can I ask you something?” 

He wanted to be an ass; he wanted to say ‘you just asked me two things’, he wanted to whoop and holler at finally having an actual conversation with you after weeks of finally having you back, yet not really having you back at all. 

Instead, all he said was “of course.”

You cleared your throat before gaining the courage to ask what he heard as “you love me; real, or not real?” 

Finnick wasn’t sure an answer had ever come to him so fast. “Real.”

You seemed somewhat surprised by his answer even though it was clearly the answer you’d been expecting. After a few moments, you simply nodded at him before turning back to your drawing board’s REAL side. 

Finnick loved me you wrote, adding bullet points underneath it...

He told me so

He acts like it

Gut feeling

...is what you cited as proof to this revelation. Finnick wanted to weep. A gut feeling; you were still in there, somewhere. There was still a version of you that knew deep down that Finnick loved you.

“It’s not quite right, honey.” He offered softly, fighting the urge to smile when you turned at his interruption, yet didn’t flinch at the sound of his voice as you often did. You simply looked at him in confusion. 

“Do you mind if I make a minor adjustment?” He asked as he carefully placed his book on your empty bed and slowly stood, holding his hands out in ask. 

You looked between him and the marker and eraser in your hands before holding them out for him; an invitation. 

Finnick smiled at you as he slowly walked towards you, hyper focused on remaining as unthreatening as possible as he gently took the items from you, careful not to touch you unnecessarily. 

He moved to the REAL side of the board, using the edge of the eraser to remove the d from the end of loved and replacing it with an s. The sentence now - properly - read Finnick loves me. 

“There, now it’s perfect.” He offered you with another smile as he held the items back out to you, gently placing them in your hands when you held them open for him before he turned back towards his chair, retrieved his book, and sat back down. 

Your eyes stayed glued on the correction he made to your board as the marker and eraser hovered uselessly midair; moments dragging on before your arms finally lowered to your sides. 

Finnick didn’t bother pretending to read, so when you turned to look at him - face full of confusion, curiosity, concern, and what looked to be devastation - you found him already looking at you. 

“Still?” You asked, voice cracking painfully as a heavy tear fell down your face. 

And if Finnick thought that no answer had ever come faster to him before, he was sorely mistaken. 

“Always.” He promised.

anon asked: jenson at honda in 2004 or brawn in 2009

Hii! Can you do something with Redbull Seb and these 46, 49, 52, 95, 4, 75? You don't need to use all of them, I just put some of them so you could see my vision. Thank you <3

First time writing Seb but the wheel of fics has spoken and so today is the day, praying this goes well

Translation: Biene = Bee in German

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"I'm not going to touch you unless you beg," Seb hums in your ear, smirking at the groan of frustration that bubbles from your throat. "Come on Seb, I've been waiting all night, please just touch me." You whine, bucking your hips towards his face in impatience. His hands force your hips back down, "Good girl, that wasn't so hard was it?" He smiles, his fingers wiping through your folds. "So wet for me biene, do you want to cum?" He asks, running the tip of his finger over your clit, making your walls clench around nothing.

"Please Seb, want to cum for you so bad, please do something." You moan out, patience wearing even thinner as he takes his time exploring you with just one finger. "Maybe I'd rather take my time, let you wait for it even longer." He hums, clicking his tongue in disappointment at the way you roll your eyes in annoyance. When his fingers still don't slip inside you, you let out a groan of annoyance. You hoist yourself up onto your elbow, the other arm tugging on Seb's hair to force him to look up at you.

"Yes schatze? What can I do for you?" He asks, coy smile playing on his lips.

"Put that snarky mouth to work Sebastian or I swear to god I won't have sex with you for a month." You threaten, the tone of your voice making Seb's cock twitch in its confines. "Okay okay, jeez." He huffs, cheesy grin taking over his face at the way you let his hair go as you lie back down. He starts by placing kisses around your pussy, avoiding the one place you ache for him most. Once you dig your heels into his shoulder he gets the hint, enveloping your clit in his mouth. The warmth from his mouth makes you clench, your thighs tightening slightly around his head. His tongue flicks out as he sucks, sending vibrations through your body as his spit drips down your pussy. You moan out his name, this time threading your fingers in his hair to hold his heavenly tongue against you.

His tongue darts everywhere, tasting every inch of you. He sucks and nibbles at your clit, the movement of his jaw causing his chin to brush against your entrance. His hand joins his mouth, slipping a finger inside you. Your walls clamp around his finger as he groans at your wetness. His finger feels around your walls, pushing against the spongy spot located on the front wall, curling his finger as he continues to suck your clit. He feels the way you clench around him, your moans increasing in volume. Removing his head from you he requests, "Tell me when you're about to cum biene." You nod in response, urging his head to resume its original position.

It doesn't take long for the pit in your stomach to spread, warmth feeling your bones as you feel yourself getting closer to your peak. "Gonna cum Seb." You whine, tugging at his hair. He pulls back once more, removing his finger too this time. You look down at him in shock, his hair wild, pink lips swollen with your juices. "You're not allowed to cum without my permission." He tells you, crawling over the top of you to place a kiss on your lips. "Payback for being bossy." He whispers against your lips. You just groan, smashing your lips together and tasting yourself on his tongue.

Sebastian continues to kiss you as he slides two fingers inside you, scissoring them against your walls. You moan his name into his mouth, your nails scratching the back of his neck in pleasure as he plunges them deeper inside you. His fingers have always felt much better than yours, their length allowing them to reach places you could only dream of. He could read your body like a book, finding the moment he hooks his fingers against your g-spot, your breath hitching and stomach contracting. He continues to press his fingers against the spot, enjoying the way you squirm against him.

His mouth travels down your collarbone, reaching your breasts. Your pebbled nipples lean toward his mouth as your arch your back at his actions between your legs. He captures one in his mouth, swirling his tongue and enjoying the way your nipple seems to get impossibly harder. He will always love the way you react to him, the way he seems to be able to draw things out of you when anybody else would assume you have nothing left to give. Seb can feel the way you're tightening around his fingers and removes them once more, watching your hole clench around the emptiness.

"Don't cum yet." He murmurs as he guides himself inside you. The stretch of your walls around his cock making you mewl. You claw at his shoulders as he seats himself inside you, your walls pulsing around his thick cock. Sliding himself out he moans at the way your jaw drops when he slams himself back inside, whispering praises in your ear at the way you take him.

"Seb, please, I'm so close." You mewl, "I don't know if I can hold it any longer." Tears well in your ears at the pleasure beginning to overcome you, Seb's thumb wiping one away as it drips down your cheek. "You can cum whenever you'd like biene, been so good for me, want to feel it." He groans, his head dropping to your shoulder as he pounds into you. His words were all you needed, letting go and soaking his cock in your cum. He whimpers at the way your walls clamp around him, biting down onto your shoulder lightly as his orgasm hits him, hips stuttering against your own.

Seb manages to hold himself above you long enough to pull out before rolling over and collapsing next to you. He pulls you into his side, stroking your hair as your eyes start to close. "Did so good for me biene, want a bath now?" He questions, smiling as you nod into his neck. "Cuddle me for a bit longer first though, please." You whisper out, curling into his body further and enjoying the way his arms feel around you.

i need peter bonnington like rn

Charles jealous and possessive please! Smut 🔥

no mercy.

CL x fem!reader - 4k celebration ✨

in which lunch with friends turns into charles reminding you that you’re all his

first 4k request up! thank you so much for this, wrote this whole thing in like half an hour bc damn this took me back to my charlie roots. i hope u love this anon, and all my lovely readers - lemme know what you think

warnings: 18+!! minors GO AWAY! smut, swearing, slight breeding kink, use of “slut” (in the sexy way tho!), lando causing his usual chaos (feat. shit stirrer alex), dom!charles/sub!reader, minor hints of corruption kink, slapping like once, fluffy ending

1.4k words

interesting.

the word you’d choose to describe this lunch is interesting.

charles’ hand seems to grow tighter on your thigh with every passing minute, or, to be more precise, every time lando speaks.

“so am i, ahem, are we gonna be seeing you at any races soon?” lando teases, raising an eyebrow, gesturing to alex sat beside him to cover up his slip of the tongue.

“i’ll be there whenever charles wants me there. maybe i’ll even get to see you win a race.” you laugh. you’re enjoying the company, but the impromptu lunch with the other two drivers seems to be riling your boyfriend up to new heights.

you know the brit is teasing him, and alex is lapping up the drama, stirring the pot. you certainly don’t mind if it keeps charles’ hand wandering higher up your leg. you’re just being polite, lando knows that, charles definitely knows that, but his tight smile and clenched jaw paints a different picture.

“i think we need to get going.” charles pipes up suddenly, after what feels like an eternity of silence from the monegasque man, and he throws a few hundred euros down of the table. “see you in bahrain.” he glares at lando pointedly, and extends his hand to you.

you take it, grinning apologetically at lando and alex, who both wear the same shit-eating grins. they know exactly what they’ve done and they’re lapping up the visible irritation they’ve concocted in their friend.

charles opens your door when you reach his ferrari, silently closing it and walking around to the drivers side.


“not a word.” he grunts.

his hand slips into your panties as he starts the car, and your head tips back against the headrest.

-

he throws you onto the bed, no mercy, nothing forgiving behind his rage filled eyes. you wriggle up onto your elbows, watching the way his shirt sleeves are haphazardly rolled up, the way his hands rub together. your thighs clench. his jaw is ticking, and you can see the cogs turning in his mind, ideas brewing.

there’s no warning before pounces, shoving your floral dress up your thighs. he’s met with white lace, intricately textured, gone sheer with your arousal from the way he’d toyed with you in the car, and he sighs deeply, pained.

“this is what you wear out under this slutty fucking dress?” charles glares down at you, yanking at the fabric. the band snaps back against your belly and you gulp, hard. “nothing to say?” he tuts. “you didn’t seem to have a problem talking to my friends.”

“wore it for you, promise.” you whisper, eyes wide, pupils blown. charles scoffs.

“did you really? because it seems like you’ve forgotten who you fucking belong to.”

you don’t get a chance to reply because you’re stunned into silence when a tear sounds from between your thighs. you see a flash of white when he discards your underwear, throwing them to the floor. charles forces your legs apart, settling onto his belly as if he wants to examine you.

“still soaked.” he hums, impressed. “question is, cherie, for who?” he tilts his head condescendingly and your squirm.

as if to torture you, his nimble fingers trace your folds, spreading the wetness he’s created. you buck your hips at the pressure, it’s not nearly enough, and a low whine sounds from the back of your throat.

“all for you, baby.” you promise. “please, charlie.” you beg.

“is my precious girl getting desperate? hm?” he finds your clit, circling it with the pad of his calloused thumb. you nod profusely, and he’s obsessed with your compliance. “now you know how i felt watching him want you.” he spits.

charles plunges two fingers inside of you suddenly, and you cry out, grinding your hips to his rhythm. the stretch is so delicious that you barely register the burn, not that it matters with the way he’s slicked you up already.

“baby, ‘m all yours.” you’re getting desperate now, pleading with your eyes as much as you can between squeezing them shut every time your tummy tightens.

“i’m not so sure, think you need reminding still.” charles smirks, and his pace increases tenfold.

all you can hear is the wet slap of his fingers slamming into your pussy, his other hand teasing at your clit, just barely touching it. it riles you up endlessly, and your belly aches from how tight you’re clamping down around his hand.

“wanna cum.” you slur, dizzy from the shockwaves washing over you.

“ask nicely.” charles quips sternly, slapping your thigh. it sends a jolt through you and you can’t help it, spilling around his long digits.

you expect him to stop, to punish you for disobeying him, but he fucks you through your orgasm until you’re spent. he’s grinning when you manage to open your eyes.

“so that’s how you’re gonna be, hm? you wanna act like a slut, cherie? because believe me, i’ll treat you like one.” he speaks concisely, slowly, his voice low and threatening.

he points to your dress. “off. now.”

you scramble to peel it off, throwing it off of the bed, and your bra follows suit. you lay there bare, studying him. if you didn’t know him, love him, you’d think he’s his normal self, but you can see the way he’s digging his nails into his palm, can see the way his neck is flushed red. he unclenches his hands to undo his jeans, just enough so that his cock is on display, red and aggressively hard. you wonder how long he’s been like that.

charles kneels at the end of the bed, shifting until he’s hovering over you. the head of his cock nudges your clit, spreading the remnants of your orgasm over himself and your cunt, watching the way it flutters at the pressure. and then he’s sinking in, slow, deep. he’s heavy on top of you and you revel in the weight of him, his scent.

he grins when he bottoms out, letting out a low groan. he stills for a moment, looks at you, brushes a few strands of hair away from your pink flushed face.

“apologise.” charles coos, mockingly. your eyes well with tears, so much pressure swelling in your belly.

“charles.” you whimper, attempting to thread your fingers through his hair, but he catches your hand, sweeping up the other, and pins both of your wrists above your head.

“apologise.”

and you can’t help but ramble pathetically.

“i’m sorry, charlie, love you so much, ‘m so sorry.”

the feeling of his hips hitting yours is like water in the desert: luxurious, essential. the pace he sets is brutal, utterly fantastic, a stark contrast to anything he’s ever given to you before.

this entire experience is surreal, he usually dotes, whispers lovingly into your ear as he gently coaxes orgasms out of you. this could not be anymore different.

the power he exudes, fully clothed, rocking into your quivering, naked body turns you on endlessly, unlocking a part of yourself that you’d never let anyone else see before.

“you like it better like this, don’t you, cherie? when i fuck you hard like this?” you nod frantically. “pretending to be the sweetest little angel when really, you’re nothing but a dirty fucking girl, letting him gawk at you. bet you loved it, all that attention.” charles grunts.

you arch into him, the elastic band in your core growing that bit too tight.

“maybe i need to fuck a baby into you, make sure everyone knows you’re all mine.” he whispers.

that’s all it takes. you reach your high instantly, spurred on by the filth he spouts. the tight, hot hold you have on him makes him see stars, and then he’s cumming, too, spilling warm and white into you.

it’s quiet for a moment, the air still, the smell of sex settling over the space. you relax into the bed, and gently, he pulls out of you. he smiles softly, fingers grazing your sweat dampened face. he unbuttons his shirt as he walks to the en-suite, returning to you shirtless and with a warm, damp cloth.

you smile sleepily as he cleans you up, wiping away the mess he’s made between your legs - as best as he can, anyways - and then he strips off his jeans, and clambers into bed beside you, pulling you into his arms so that your back is flush to his chest.

“was that okay?” he asks quietly. you roll over in his arms, raising your head to peck his jaw.

“more than okay.”

“i didn’t take it too far?”

“baby, it was perfect.” you giggle.

“you know i’m not mad at you, right? but i swear, if lando ever looks at you like that again, he won’t be having kids.”

-

first 4k request happy dance 🕺🏻✨

-

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lemme know if u wanna be added or removed <3

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."

Control! Your! Self! - James Wilson

Summary: House knows you (a frathouse’s sweetheart and his favourite patient) have been hooking up with Wilson, despite Wilson’s constant denying. But, he just knows a way to make his friend crack—your sororities fundraiser.

Includes: Readers Nickname is Aelia, (Reader is 28ish), FratSweetheart!Reader, FWB, Nearly Getting Caught, Workplace Sex, Car Wash, Wilson Gets Flustered, Hilson (If You Squint), House Sorts of Gets Off Watching Wilson Get Off? Wilson Pops a Boner!

The bi-weekly checkups (that were scheduled to end months ago) with House since your knee surgery, always ended up with you in James Wilson’s office, the blinds pulled tightly shut and a hefty armchair pressed up against the door.

Wilson’s warm and veiny hands caressed the smooth crescent of your waist, squeezing at the fat of your hips whilst his bucked into yours painfully (but pleasurably) slow as you sat on his desk.

Your connected lips stifled each of your desperate moans, having to keep quiet as Wilson’s doctors and interns walked past his office, unbeware of the Head of Oncology’s absence.

Gosh was it hard.

Ankles crossed around his waist, you’re gripping the hair at the back of Wilson’s neck, fingers coiling around the chocolate waves. You tug every so often, eliciting a hearty guttural groan from the man above you, setting your skin on fire.

Forcing his cock all the way inside of you, tightening your hold around his body, Wilson lets out a deep whine, letting his head drop to rest between your bare collarbones.

“You’ve got to give me some sort of warning… what if House were to walk by and hear that?” Wilson hisses, his index finger tracing below your belly button, it tickled.

“You’re always bringing up House, I’d rather you didn’t with your dick inside me.” You giggled, pecking his lips and shuffling your body closer to the desks edge.

Pressing down on your abdomen, Wilson can feel himself in your stomach, rearranging your insides. His balls tighten, knowing you can take all of him inside your heavenly tight pussy.

“He’s ever-consuming…” he whined as you bite a sensitive spot on his neck, lapping your tongue over it to soothe the bruise, “… just like your pussy, my god.”

Ogling down at where your hips lay flush, Wilson feels tears tickling at his waterline, the sight of your walls inviting his length in never gets old.

The desk begins to rattle, Wilson’s impending orgasm creeping up at him at the sight of you under him.

Your fingers rub at your clit in circles, bottom lip tugged between your teeth and your gorgeous eyes curtained through closed lids—you felt like you were ascending.

Like ecstasy was coursing through your veins, your supplier being Wilson’s raw and passionate thrusts.

“Fuck, James. I’m so close…” trembled past your parted lips, heavy breathes brushing against his bushy eyebrows that are pulled together in deep concentration.

Looking into your eyes, Wilson nods his head frantically, “Good girl, come undone for me.” He ordered and you did.

Your orgasm came in red hot, causing you to shudder and clench around Wilson—who was so close too.

He groaned like he was in psychical pain as you rolled your hips onto his, to be honest he was in pain, he needed the sweet relief of coming soon.

Lifting your hips up as pure bliss came over you like a thick blanket, sweat beads painting your hairline, your toes clenched and your spine tingled as you finally came down from your high.

“Such a gorgeous girl, I’m so lucky.” Wilson said, cradling your face in his large palms, thumb rubbing over the apple of your cheek.

“Fucking me so good I might just make you mine.” your fucked our mind spoke for you, gazing at the doctor under hooded lids.

“Yeah?” Your pussy seemed to tighten again (somehow) and Wilson’s eyes rolled into the back of his head as he mumbled incoherent nonsense.

“Mhmm, take you back to the frat house, show you off to the boys.” Wilson whimpered as pre-cum drizzled inside of you. “They’ll be so jealous, they all want me but I’m devoted to you, only.

“Imagine House’s face when he walks in on us in your apartment, looking so innocent sat on your lap watching ‘Tivo’, not realising you’re balls deep in me.”

Your dirtiest fantasies tip Wilson over the age, he cums staring into your eyes. His eyes gloss over with pure pleasure, his lazy eye (that you absolutely adore) turns in slightly when he moans.

As his hips jerk, balls pressing against your ass trying to shove his cock as deep as possible, you smile at each other through the haze of your orgasms.

Pulling out, a mix of both of your fluids seep out onto the desk, “Look at that, got me cumming so hard, baby.” You purred.

“And a lot, I think you might need to get checked out.” He tutted, spreading your folds, ogling at your soppy pussy.

If you had been any less sensitive, his mouth would’ve been lapping at your wetness immediately; that was too cruel though, he’d barely touched you and you were already twitching,

“Really, that much? You know any good gyno’s?”

Running his tongue over his teeth, Wilson nodded, “I’d say I’m pretty seasoned in that area, you could always come to me. You might need daily check-up, sweetie.”

Laughing, you slapped his hands away from your core, “But I thought you were an oncologist?”

“Who says a man can’t do both?” Grinning, he softly kissed your neck up to your jawline.

Scooping the mixture with your finger, you commanded Wilson to open up. Sticking your finger down his throat, Wilson suckles on your flesh before pulling off with a pop!

“You’re good, too good. Where’d you study?” You tease, leaning on your forearms against some of Wilson’s papers whilst he cleaned your wetness up with a tower (that he’d brought from home, knowing you had an appointment with House that day).

“I’m a Doctor, Aelia, I know all about anatomy.” He shrugged with a toothy grin, chucking the towel into an empty drawer.

Pulling his boxers over his hips and buttoning his slacks up (biting his tongue when the fabric brushed harshly against his worn out cock), he sat back in his leather chair, patting his thighs.

Eagerly dropping yourself into his lap after shuffling your tight shorts back on, you pressed a tender kiss to his Adam’s apple and then his cheek.

“I’m also a married man, twice divorced. I know how to please a woman.”

“You sure do, Peepaw.” Gasping, Wilson tickled your sides, ripping an almighty giggle from your throat.

Unbeknownst to you, a certain Head of Diagnostics, hobbled by. After trying to escape from Cuddy who was adamant on forcing clinic hours on the doctor.

He also was going to steal Wilson’s lunch, ergo why he stopped right outside.

House’s ears perked up at the sound of sweet giggles. Sure, Wilson had a nice laugh, but it was never that high-pitched.

And then, when he tried to burst in but was blocked by a heavy force pushing against the door, he knew something was up.

Eyes wide, you watched in shock as the handle to Wilson’s office rattled furiously. Facing the oncologist, he squeezed your hips and lifted you up onto your feet.

Passing you your little handbag and sweater you arrived in, he motioned towards the large windows adjacent to his desk.

Furrowing your eyebrows you shook your head rapidly, there was no way you were jumping out of that into the bushes below—you had dignity!

Tilting his head tentatively, Wilson clasped his hands together in a begging motion. “One minute House, the doorknobs going to fall off if you shake it any harder!”

“Another knobs going to be removed if you don’t let me in here, now!” House shouted, banging his fists on the wooden door.

Sighing deeply, running a shaky hand through his hair, Wilson rushed over to you and directed you towards the open window. He hushed you as you began to retaliate.

“Please just do it, I’ll stop by later and make it up to you.” Wilson promised, tucking a strand of hair behind your ear, tracing the back of his finger along your cheek.

“You fucking better James Wilson. I’ll tell one of the frat boys to let you in.” Straddling the window ledge, Wilson gave you a pitied look and you rolled your eyes playfully.

Leaving him with a linger peck on the lips, you slid out of his office and landed on the soft grass—thank God he was situated on the bottom floor.

Otherwise you’d have no more legs for him to make weak.

Slicking his frizzy hair down, Wilson pushed the chair away from the door, allowing House to barge in like it was his own office.

He didn’t say a word as he leant on his cane, narrow his eyes, scanning the room for anything suspicious. He stopped when he reached the open window, the blinds fluttered in the Summer breeze, almost too much.

“Somethings fishy here…” House decides, plopping into Wilson’s chair and rifling through a draw pulling out a plastic container—his lunch.

Hiding his chuckle behind a cough, Wilson picked up the messy files that he was reading before you had strutted in. Legs for miles on full display, nipples perked that pierced through the hoodie—safe to say, he had gotten a little distracted.

“I’m not entirely sure Aelia would be too pleased with that statement…” he mumbled under his breath.

“What was that?”, “Nothing.”

“No, I mean what is that?” House’s nose scrunches up, not in disgust, but in confusion.

Jutting his bottom lip out, too confused, Wilson turns and is greeted to a discarded blue lace bra, hanging off a picture frame. Oh.

That must’ve been hanging there since your entrance. Flung off and forgotten about in the midst of a passionate make out session, before Wilson received a soul sucking blowjob that left his teeth chattering.

Heart dropping to his stomach, Wilson reaches out to snatch at the bra, shoving it down his trousers, “There are the sneaky things.”

“Have you started wearing ladies lingerie, Wilson? Was part of the special dessert you were making for us tonight?”

Running a stress hand over his face, Wilson had to think fast, “No, those are my wife’s. Well they were until they went missing. Don’t know how they’ve ended up… there…”

“Can’t of been your wife’s, wayyy too big to be hers.” Wilson glares at House, whose face scrunched up in a devious beam.

Dropping the smile immediately, House began to poke at a cupboard with his cane.

“Aelia, I know you’re in there, come out. You’re busted.”

Scratching his head awkwardly, Wilson stuck his bottom lip up and shrugged, “She’s not in there, I haven’t seen her since her last checkup.”

Huffing, House shook his head and rolled his eyes sassily—like a deranged teenage girl—tutting at his best friend’s serious expression as he opened the cupboard door.

“I can assure you. Why would she be in my cupboard anyway?”

“Because, my dear friend… I have eyes and ears. You’re hooking up with my patient!” chewing on his lip, Wilson placed his hands on his hips and whispered.

“You’re right…”

Eyes widening, lips curling upwards ever so slightly, House’s voice dropped an octave, “You are?”

“No.” Wilson deadpanned, shuffling through his files and placing them neatly on his desk, grabbing a pen to sign off some patients further-going treatment.

“That’s it.” House banged his stick on the carpeted floor (for dramatic effect), Wilson raised an inquisitive eyebrow. “If you’re not going to tell me, I’m going to weasel it out of you.”

Pulling a rumpled flyer out of his blazer pocket, slamming it down in front of Wilson on the desk. Grumbling (because he now actually had work to do), Wilson unenthusiastically pickled the paper up, pinching the corners with his thumb and index finger.

“Sorority Fundraiser?” Wilson questioned, flicking the leaflet over, he was greeted with a group photo of a nearby sorority.

His eyes immediately gravitated to you, you were so much prettier than the others, a large cheesy smile gracing your features, sticking your tongue out cheekily, long hair cascading down your back as you leant your head against a friend’s.

The throbbing in his trousers he was so familiar with that day returned too, scoping your outfit; a bralette with tiny denim shorts.

“No… House, please.” Wilson pleaded, folding the leaflet over and shoving it into a drawer (the one with the sticky towel hidden in) for later use. “How’d you even get this, because I know Aelia wouldn’t invite you to this.”

“‘Course not, that’s like inviting your uncle to your strip show. I nabbed it off the Aussie Ken-doll, Aelia had slipped it to him before her check-up.”

Heat stirred in Wilson’s belly at the revelation, he was fired up with jealousy; why would you invite Chase and not him?

He must’ve been speaking his thoughts aloud as House tsked. “Maybe she needs someone less pre-historic?”

Chomping into (what was Wilson’s lunch) the bell-pepper with spicy rice and cherry tomatoes, House crunched onto a tomato, purposefully sending seeds flying all over Wilson’s clean shirt

Pulling into the car-park outside the sorority house, a crowd of girls circled House’s beaten down Dodge Dynasty.

Their tits squished together and pushed up through their tight bra’s, skin partially covered in soapy bubbles that overflowed from nearby buckets.

Hair tied back with multi-coloured scrunchies, lips pouty as they seductively rinsed sponges off over their collarbones—it was like a scene straight out of a 80’s porno.

Wilson had never seen his best friend’s grin so wide as a college student knocked on the window, House’s fingers trembled, placing a crisp 20 dollar bill in the girl’s palm.

“Girls look! It’s that hot doctor.” A close friend of yours, Estella; a bubbly girl whose wild curls matched her personality; shrieked from across the parking lot.

Pointing a manicured finger in Wilson’s direction, House swivelled to face the oncologist incredulously, who was slowly sinking further into the passenger seat, hands pressed firmly over his eyes.

“My, my would you look at that! You’re like a ol’ regular around here, you perv.” House nudged Wilson’s side.

Resting his forearm on the windowsill, House whispered something to one of your sorority sisters, handing them another 20 bucks before they hurried off towards another car.

“W-what did you do? 40 bucks, House that’s insane!” Wilson babbled, loosening his tie from around his neck that seemed to be suffocating him.

Dismissing him with a wave of his hand, House leaned back in his seat, slowly raising his sunglasses over his eyes.

“Paid a little extra for a select cleaner, and what’s the harm? It’s for the greater good of society.”

“I’m not sure practically prostituting these sorority girls for your sick entertainment is for the ‘greater good’, House.” Wilson scoffed.

“Hah, don’t lie. You’ll love it!”

That’s when you come skipping over, sporting a string bikini, tied loosely in bows at your hip, and… god does Wilson hate when House is right.

“Woah…” House voices Wilson’s thoughts, eyes trained on you as wiggle your hips in excitement at Tina (who was now wafting herself with the 2 20 dollar bills), beaming at the hot doctor’s special request.

Winking at your friends, they all wiggle their eyebrows towards each other, going back to cleaning the other cars to keep the other men waiting patiently with their tongues hanging out entertained.

Wrapping your finger against Wilson’s window, chewing on your bottom lip to hide your knowing smile, he smiled back weakly.

“Well morning, James.” You giggle after House rolled the window down, leaning into the car and purposefully pushing your tits together into the doctors face.

He can House stifle a snort beside him, “Ah! Aelia, fancy see you here.”

“Likewise, doctor and… other doctor.” You wave at House who waves back, body shuddering with laughter at Wilson, who was not-so discreetly averting his gaze from your breasts to your face every micro-second.

“We’re just in great need of a thorough wash, nice and soapy.” House drawls.

Quirking an eyebrow at Wilson, his face is steaming hot and you can tell he’s mortified. He’s sweating through his t-shirt and sporting a growing bulge in his trousers, something you’re now all so familiar with.

“I see, anything for my favourite doctors.”

As you move with purpose over to a discarded bucket of water and soap, Wilson slams the window switch and groans at House’s laughter.

“I get this is a whole thing to stitch me up, but this is plain humiliating, House!” He seethes, chest rising and falling dramatically as he catches a glimpse of you.

Leaning over to pick a sponge up, giving him a perfect outline of your sodden bikini bottoms, he lets out a shaky breathe.

“See, this is what happens when you don’t tell your old man things.” House shrugs, “I could get used to this you know.”

He adds, leaning against his hands, leaning into the drivers seat, watching his favourite client begin to scrub at the bonnet of his car.

Wilson grits his teeth in frustration, but his jaw falls slack when you make eye contact. When you tilt your head tentatively at him, flicking your braids sending them cascading over your shoulder, careful not to graze them with the soapy water, Wilson knows he’s a goner.

Pulling his right leg to his chest, he tries to hide his impossibly hard erection from his best friend, who stares at him like he’s insane.

“What are you doing?” House questions, fussing with Wilson’s knee to push it back down but he’s met with a whole body’s worth of force.

“Oh.”

“Yeah.” Wilson responds, squinting as he tries to find your blurry figure through the windshield, now covered in soapy water that you’d thrown onto the car.

“So you admit it?”

“Admit what?” Wilson sighs deeply, carefully palming himself through his trousers, praying House can’t see his desperate actions.

“That’s you two are… hooking up, having sexual intercourse, riding the flagpole? Fucking, shagging, doing the devil’s tango, indulging in a bit of hanky panky—“

“God, alright! Jesus House.” Wilson covers his ears with his hands, face scrunching up in disgust at his friend’s words, “We’re hooking up.”

Placing his foot back down on the mat, exposing his covered erection, House whistled lowly and scoffs. “My goodness, you hiding one of my canes down there?”

Groaning, tugging at the roots of his hair, Wilson pleads, “Not now, what am I supposed to do?”

“I say just rub one out here, no one will notice. It’ll match in with the soap Aelias using anyway.” House shrugs, the outside world would never know considering the car was covered in a thick layer of bubbles.

“Anyways, I’d dig it.”

I wrote the entire end of this in one go and Tumblr didn’t save it, so it’s extremely rushed I apologise 😭

give you my wild

{sebastian vettel x fem!reader}

in which you think sebastian might make a really good dad. (inspired by this post and this video.)

warnings: yeah it’s smutty (i mean what else do i write) - unprotected sex with him coming inside her, risky public (semi-public) fucking, hold the moan vibes, slightest dom/sub moments, talk about having kids with each other, dirty talk with begging and some references to breeding / getting knocked up.

He’s busy signing autographs that morning, and it’s not an unusual sight for you to see him doing these trite little media appearances, but this time around - it’s a little different.

A chubby-cheeked baby has been placed on his table, and Sebastian is immediately taken with her, handing her a set of cards which she grabs onto readily. She giggles when he makes a silly face, and in her excitement, tosses around the set of photos of himself that he was supposed to sign. Seb laughs, and hands her another photo, only for her to throw that one away as well, but he grins and ruffles her hair with so much pride and happiness, as if she were doing something so incredibly astounding to him. Your heart squeezes in your chest, watching him play with this baby with such natural ease, you feel a strange longing for something you never even knew you wanted until this point. The last straw, simply, is when he completely abandons the signing of his photo cards altogether, and takes her in his arms to swing her around gently, making her shriek with laughter.

He looks so good already, but with a baby in his arms? You could barely breathe thinking about it.

Later, when he’s reminded that he’s running on a tight schedule, he reluctantly gets back in the seat with the baby in one hand, signing marker in the other. She ends up playing with his collar, and Seb nuzzles her a little while trying to make it through the rest of the photo cards as quickly as he can.

You come over to him just as he’s finished with the last few, and he looks up at you, his eyes all shiny and full of delight as he gestures at the baby who now smiles up at you. “Isn’t she so cute?”

You nod, unable to keep at bay your feelings of tenderness for him. “Looks like you were having a good time, Seb. I’ve never seen you so happy to do photo-card signings.”

“Well, I’ve never had such a good companion until now.” He finishes the last one with a flourish, and sets them aside. He offers to let you carry the baby, but you insist he keeps her in his arms, wanting to prolong the view a little longer of him cuddling her, fussing over her.

He’d be such a good father.

You eventually lean in to whisper to him, “I want one.”

“This one’s already taken, I’m afraid.” He grins, handing the beaming toddler back to her mother and waving goodbye. He reaches for your hand and walks with you towards his next media interview.

You squeeze his hand. “I want one of ours, then.”

His eyes flash with an excitement. “Yeah?”

You lean up to murmur into his ear. “Yeah. Want one, or a couple, maybe.” You pause, gauging his reaction, his smile. You let your voice drop a little lower, your whisper a little softer now so you can say, “Want you, actually, to fill me up so good. Over and over until you put a baby inside me, Seb.”

The swift intake of his breath is so, so sexy. He swallows, stopping at a discreet corner and pulls you in. His hand comes to curl around your waist as he tugs you in closer. “Yeah? You gonna let me fuck you bare?”

You nod, staring at his lips with such longing that he makes a rough noise. You’ve never done that before with him. “Want to feel all of you, Seb.”

You press your hips against him and grind slowly, until his mouth parts and his eyes get that unmistakably dazed look when his brain fogs over with lust. He looks around in a half-protective measure, wanting to see if anyone’s looking. You don’t care, leaning in to land a kiss on the slope of his neck that stretches out before you, and Seb makes a sound of surprise, fingers tightening on you. He likes this, you can tell, from how his pulse races under your mouth.

“Not here,” he groans, a hand unable to stop itself from reaching down to squeeze a handful of your ass. “So naughty, darling. People will see…”

You pull back with a look of determination he knows so well. “Then drag me somewhere now and fuck me… please?”

You watch the flush on his cheeks spread prettily, and you feel an answering throb between your legs. He looks so turned on and your mind’s only focused on having him inside you, now.

The paddock’s swarming with people, but somehow he finds an empty little room with a tiny sofa and the flimsiest lock you’d ever seen, but it’s right beside a media station and you have never been so aware of the fact that you’re doing something so dangerous - so impulsive. But all coherent thoughts instantly vanish when Seb is right there in front of you - looking distinctly impatient to have you.

He presses you against the cold metal of the room’s walls and has his fingers in your hair so he can kiss you with an urgency that’s thrilling. You moan when your hips grind against his, frantic, wanting, feeling him already hard for you and what you’re promising.

“So fucking impatient,” he half-complains, as your fingers stroke over the hard on straining at the front of his jeans. He rolls his hips back into your hand and your eyes dart up back to his, watching him melt into your touch. He doesn’t need to ask for permission when you’re this willing and desperate for him, and so, when he can’t stand your torture any more, he turns you over almost a shade roughly, dragging you over the arm rest of the couch, pressing his hand to the small of your back and bending you over so that he can have you prone for him. You whimper, feeling perfectly at ease in this submissive posture, perfect for being filled up and bred.

He hikes up your skirt, hands grabbing the curve of your ass which he can’t resist touching. “No underwear?” He makes a sound of delighted disbelief.

You turn back and wink at him. “We were running late - remember?” And the way his eyes heat up at the memory of this morning, where he’d been so distracted by you, gets you hot all over. “Besides,” you say as he unzips himself and takes out his cock, stroking it through your dripping cunt and slicking himself up with all of your wetness, “being near you, seeing you here in your element, being so good with kids, with everything you do…” Your breath hitches when the tip of his cock slides against your clit, “you always ruin any pair of panties I wear.”

He chuckles and leans down to put a hand over the back of your neck, stroking the slope of it with his thumb. “No. You deliberately did this to drive me crazy, didn’t you?”

“Me? Never.” You keep your tone light, but there’s anything but innocence in the way you push your hips back to feel more of his cock against you.

Seb exhales sharply and he squeezes your neck in warning, his cock resting obscenely along your folds. “You’re going to get us both in trouble like this.”

You hum, spreading your legs and shifting your hips so that there’s no mistaking what you want. “You like getting in trouble with me, don’t you? Love it when I push you to your limit.”

There’s a ghost of a smile on his face, but he doesn’t admit this. He leans over you, pushing just the tip of his dick inside you. “You know just how to make me crazy,” he says, kissing your shoulder, and you shiver against him. “Fuck. You feel so good like this.”

He’s right - it feels criminally good to have him bare like this for the first time - everything feels heightened, more sensitive, and you reach back to grab him, to let him know how good that is. He wraps his other arm around your midsection, a slow, deliberate pause before he says coyly, “you better hold on to something, sweetheart.”

Fuck. The sharp jolt of heat skitters down your spine as you wrap your fingers around the arm he’s put around you, squeezing to let him know he’s the one you’re going to want to hold on to, when it gets too much - too intense.

“Please fuck me,” you beg, shifting back impatiently until he grunts. “Seb… please fill me all the way up.”

He nips at your shoulder, “well… because you asked so nicely…”

He thrusts inside you in one smooth stroke, and you both gasp at the new sensation - so much, so good. You clench around him involuntarily, digging your fingers into his arm as he shivers slightly against you. “Oh my god, Seb.”

He grimaces in pained pleasure. “Don’t fucking move. I need a minute.”

The fact that you’ve got him barely able to control himself, that you’re going to be his undoing, sends a surge of heat so fierce, right between your legs. “Thirty seconds. Need to feel you move, please.”

He chuckles, in that agonised sort of way that betrays how much he wants to feel that, too. “This will be over in thirty seconds if you rush me.”

You make a frustrated little sound. “Don’t care… want you, please.”

A switch seems to flip inside him, and the hand at the back of your neck slides into the base of your scalp, threading fingers through your hair until he can drag you back, tugging at the strands until you gasp. “Such a fucking brat,” he murmurs in a low register you don’t hear often - but it’s fucking hot. “Always so whiny.”

Awareness prickles along your skin as he pulls almost all the way out of you, before thrusting back inside fast, hard, making you cry out. “Is that how you want it, hm?” His gruff voice holds a thin measure of patience. “Is this what you want me to do to you?”

“Yes,” you hiss out, feeling wholly consumed by him, by his domineering side taking over. “Seb, please - exactly like that.”

“Good.” He groans. “That’s how I’m going to fuck you. And that’s how I’m going to come inside you.”

He begins to fuck you with a punishing sort of rhythm - deep, hard, but it aches so good, having him so fierce and urgent and almost savage. You grip his arm so tight you’re sure he’s going to bruise, as the obscene sounds of your fucking fill the room. This, you think, will be your undoing. You cry out as he hits this sweet spot inside you that makes you seize up - buck against him, and he has to hush you. “People are going to hear,” he chides, but the tremble in his voice tells you he likes it like that - the danger, the risk. “Be quiet, love.”

But you can’t be quiet - not when he’s thrusting into you with a rhythm that seems designed to make you come way, way too quickly. “Seb,” you shudder, “fuck, you feel too good. I can’t… can’t be quiet.”

He smirks, his smug mouth kissing behind your ear. “I know, sweetheart. But you have to try to be a good girl for me.”

You nod shakily, biting down on your bottom lip. “Always.”

He releases your hair from his firm grip, slipping his fingers into his mouth to wet them as he reaches down to stroke teasing circles around your clit, and this time, you gasp out and squeeze your cunt around him, because it’s indecently good. You can hear people in the next room getting ready, murmuring small talk, and your stomach tightens with awareness.

“Imagine if they heard you getting fucked,” he murmurs, the words an incendiary force to get you even hotter than you thought possible. “Imagine them all knowing you were walking around, no panties, with my cum inside you. Dripping out of you.”

You buck into him, making this keening sound. “Fuck. I need it, Seb. I’m almost…”

Seb’s panting now, feeling you spiral against him, closer and closer to the edge, feeling your wetness coat his fingers. “You gonna come, huh?”

You can only make sounds now, having been reduced to barely incoherent moans, so you whimper, your whole body tensing up - an answer that’s so unmistakeable to him.

“Be quiet when you do,” he warns, and you shake your head, mouth parting already as the sensations he builds inside you grow too much - too overwhelming. He releases your torso just in time to press a hand over your mouth, muffling the scream that you make as you come so hard, against him, you almost push his cock out. It’s him that groans instead, swearing in a mix of German and English, thrusting erratically now that he can feel your cunt tightening, enveloping him like vise.

“Please,” you plead with him, the words coming out almost slurred from how dazed you feel, in the throes of your orgasm. “Seb, knock me up, please.”

And doesn’t that just do it for him.

His breath punches out as he comes, and he swears your name into the sweaty base of your neck, trembling. You can feel each throb, each spurt inside you - and it’s ridiculous how base and animalistic it feels to be satisfied like this - to feel so intimately connected by the way he comes inside you.

He doesn’t pull away immediately, but catches his breath by laving kisses along your sensitive neck, as you moan brokenly against him. His fingers are gentle now, coming up to tip your chin towards him so that he can kiss your mouth with a tenderness that steals your breath, every time.

You could spend all day kissing him, languishing in the afterglow, but you’re mindful that you’ve already stolen him away for way too long, and that soon they’re going to be looking for him.

Even though he protests, you have to be the responsible one, pushing him back from more kisses and dressing him up again, helping him look presentable for the media. His hair’s a lost cause, and the bruises on his arm will definitely look suspicious, but you do the best you can, and send him out with a final, lingering kiss.

Later, as you sit at the back of the interview room, behind rows of journalists and reporters, they ask him, once, about whether he’s ready to be a father, especially given that he was pictured so adorably with a baby earlier on.

A wide grin appears on his face, and he glances not so subtly at you, making you flush from the memory of your escapade with him earlier. “Well, I think… it really doesn’t take too long to make one, does it?”

The room erupts in scattered laughs. That’s your Seb, of course. Always ready with a silly quip.

The journalist probes, referencing his longstanding metaphor of racing for having a family. “So do you think you’re finally ready to come out of free practice?”

The twinkle in his eyes is so endearing to you, but even more touching are the words that come from him, directed straight at you. “Yeah. Definitely ready for that.”

—

I was wondering why I was so crazy these few days and I checked my period app - yep, turns out there’s a reason why my brain has been a non-stop filth factory. It is what it is. Anyone else get like this? I hate it. Don’t ever want kids, but the way this fic poured out of me so readily and quickly is a little concerning.

Please enjoy this unfiltered, very insane fic that i rushed to edit - and yes don’t worry, I haven’t forgotten the charlos blindfold fic that was promised!

Hope you liked it! Would love to know what you thought <3

love, ivy

my masterlist

pls reblog for sample size!

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 😌