fandoms 18, 19 and 20
F1 motorracing
Obviously, they are real and I don't own them. The fact that this is the first third of a cracked out version of Cinderella might also be a clue that this didn't really happen. Rated NC-17
Kimiella or How Raikonnen ended up at Ferrari
Once upon a time, there was a young man named Kimi Raikonnen. He was not your typical fairy-tale heroine (well, he was a man, fro starters), rather lacking in wicked stepparents and evil step siblings, and though he was quite pretty he was not beautiful enough to be worshipped, not ugly enough to be pitied. His dreams were not those of princesses, but those of peasant boys. No princes for him (or, not very often. Only if it seemed to much trouble to decline); his only desire was to win the Formula One World Championship, and to secure a permanent supply of the magical drink called vodka, which could only be made by moonlight (except when the day ended in ‘y’) and drunk in shadows (though it was perfectly acceptable to create these shadows by closing the curtains).
With all this in mind, and a contract with Sauber in the bag, he was rather surprised, when he crawled out of bed around noon (the magical drink occasionally had some rather unpleasant effects) to find a blond man in an enormous wedding dress standing in a corner of his bedroom.
“Um,” said Kimi.
“I am your fairy godmother,” the man announced. “I’m here to tell you that you shall go to the ball!”
“You look like Mika Hakkinen to me,” Kimi said, rubbing his eyes and trying not to be blinded by the light reflecting off the glitter on Mika’s skirts. Mika glared at him, tugging awkwardly at his low neckline.
“Well, who else would I be?” he demanded. “Now, stand up.”
Kimi stood, rather uncertainly.
“What ball?” he asked, reflecting that maybe he should have asked this a little bit sooner. Mika didn’t bother to answer, just waved his magic wand. There was a rushing feeling and Kimi found himself standing outside a mansion wearing a blue-green silk dress that left little to the imagination. He stared at Mika in mute appeal.
“If I have to, so do you,” Mika said heartlessly.
“Underwear?” Kimi asked hopefully.
“You’ve got to make an impression,” Mika told him. Kimi sighed, and Mika stepped forward in a rustle of skirts and pressed his lips to Kimi’s. Kimi gasped as the other man’s tongue slid across his lips, but then Mika broke the kiss and stepped away.
“Oh, you’ll do,” he said, looking Kimi over slowly. “Now,” he said briskly. “Don’t do anything stupid and make sure you’re home by midnight.”
“What happens if I’m not?” Kimi asked, just to be sure.
Mika gave him a wicked, lascivious look.
“The dress vanishes.”
“Ah,” said Kimi in resignation. Mika waved his wand again and vanished in a cloud of silver sparkles.
Kimi blinked and looked down at himself: the way the dress shimmered and clung to his thighs (and what lay between them); his hands, encased in dark blue gloves that came up to his elbows and made his skin look almost translucent; at his feet in little blue sandals, covered in diamonds and with a two-inch heel. He sighed to himself and stepped tentatively forwards, feeling the slip of the silk across his whole body. He stopped, bit his lip, then tried again.
The unaccustomed height and the difficulty of walking in heels put paid to Kimi’s problem quite quickly however, and he made his way slowly across the drive and up the stairs with the silk swirling around him with every step, sliding across his thighs and buttocks and making him aware of everything.
When he reached the top of the steps, Kimi walked through the double doors and into a large room fully of people. They were all masked. There was music playing, though Kimi couldn’t see any sort of technology or any musicians, but the music made him want to dance and suddenly there was a man at his elbow, sweeping him out onto the dance floor. Kimi picked up the steps quickly, and danced every dance with a different partner. Though he was not flawless, he could feel everyone’s eyes on him even though he could never see anyone actually watching him.
“You’ve got talent,” the man who was dancing with him told him. Kimi twirled and performed a difficult combination of steps, smiling at the man. He was old, older than Kimi at any rate, and moved a little stiffly; even as he steered Kimi skilfully around the other couples on the floor, his focus seemed to be a little elsewhere, his grip just a little too tight.
“Will you do me the honour of the next dance?” the man asked, and Kimi nodded. At the end of the dance, Kimi, with one eye on the time, stepped away and left.
He climbed into one of the limos outside and told the driver to take him home. Leaning back in the expensive seat and closing his eyes, he rested his hands on his thighs before sliding one higher up to tease his already-hard cock through the smooth silk.
“Good,” said a low, appreciative voice. Kimi’s eyes snapped open and he yanked his hand away from his dick as he sat bolt upright, turning in the direction of the voice. Mika was leaning back alongside him, looking at him with glittering eyes. Gone was the ridiculous wedding-dress, the man stretched out beside Kimi now was wearing a clearly expensive black suit that accentuated the lines of his body.
“You’ve made a good first impression,” Mika said, seemingly ignoring Kimi’s obvious discomfort. “You’re well on your way.” He leaned forward, pressing his lips to Kimi’s once again, and this time Kimi kissed back hungrily.
“One thing remains,” Mika told him, pulling away slightly and staring into Kimi’s flushed face, even as his right hand smoothed its way up Kimi’s thigh to cover his cock.
“You’ll be replacing me,” Mika told him, not breaking the gaze as his hand stroked slowly up and down, hot silk gradually becoming damp.
“Ceremonial baton-passing?” Kimi managed to ask derisively, trying not to let his breathing hitch too much as Mika slid the silk over his cock.
“Something like that,” Mika said, a tinge of sadness and something else in his voice, but he moved to capture Kimi’s mouth again and Kimi grabbed at his shoulders, the kiss turning desperate and messy as Mika skilfully brought him to an intense climax, staining the dress pretty much beyond repair.
Kimi sat back, breathing hard, glancing down at the wreckage of the dress before looking over at Mika. He raised and eyebrow, and at Mika’s barely perceptible nod, reached over. Mika’s hand caught his, and he jerked his head. Kimi shrugged, sliding off the seat and onto the floor. The dress was already ruined, after all. Positioning himself between Mika’s legs, he began to unfasten the other man’s trousers. Mika’s hands came down to rest on Kimi’s bare shoulders, making him twitch in surprise. As Kimi leaned forward to take Mika’s cock in his mouth, Mika slid his hands up the side of Kimi’s neck, holding Miki in place. Kimi froze and Mika’s hands pushed gently, guiding him downwards. Kimi put all his energy into resisting that push and staying in place. When Mika didn’t relax, Kimi drew his lips back just a little, allowing his teeth to touch Mika’s cock, first lightly and then a little bit harder. Mika relaxed the pressure just slightly and Kimi moved up a touch, covering his teeth. Mika’s grip was still stronger than he was happy with, but Kimi decided not to push his luck. He set the pace, feeling Mika’s fingers flex around his head as he licked and sucked. Mika’s breathing was audible now, and Kimi felt a flicker of triumph as the other man gasped. Kimi tried to pull off but Mika held him in place, forcing him to swallow. Even when Mika’s hands fell away, Kimi rested there, between his legs. Eventually he say back on his heels, dress rucked up and stretched obscenely over his sticky thighs, and looked at Mika.
"Well?” he asked.
"You’re home,” Mika said. The car stopped and Kimi got out awkwardly. He stumbled inside, ripping off the dress as soon as he was in his bedroom and then diving into the shower before collapsing into bed.
The next morning, the dress was gone and if it weren’t for the unaccustomed ache in his legs, Kimi would have wondered whether he’d dreamt it all. Though, the phone call from his manager telling him that McLaren were thinking of making him an offer went some way to validating the night’s events.
TBC
Coronation Street
Not mine, I make no money. Rated G. Eileen thinks about her sons.
Eileen Grimshaw cradled her baby granddaughter in her arms, and wondered idly whether or not the total uselessness of her sons was her fault. She loved them both to pieces, of course she did, and both of them knew it, but…
Well, Todd had knocked up Sarah (that little trollop!) barely out of school, and that was bad enough but at least he’d stuck by her, sort of, though she didn’t want to think what it said about him that running off to London with that male nurse after the baby died was the most tactful thing he could have done. Still, he’d meant to stick by her, and that was what counted.
Jason, thought, putting some poor girl in the club on a one night stand of all things, and then refusing to accept the little girl as his when the distraught mother turned up in tears on Christmas Day, of all days.
Eileen cooed to her granddaughter and the baby smiled up at her before closing her eyes. Little pet.
Well, thought Eileen, at least he was coming round to her. With Sarah’s help, maybe. That girl had been a total disaster for Todd, but maybe, just maybe, she might be a bit of a good influence on Jason.
Eileen sighed and took the baby upstairs for her nap. It was kind of nice to have a baby about the place. She gave the little girl a kiss and put her gently to bed.
The Demon Headmaster
and again, not mine, rated G
Dinah Glass. Harvey rolled the name around in his head. Transparent. Brittle. Hard. Dinah Glass.
He wondered what she’d be like, this orphan coming to live with them. Pale and tearful? Maybe she’d be mean. Lloyd was sure she’d be mean, was sure she’d be an enemy and things would be awful.
Harvey? Well… Maybe she wouldn’t be anything like her name. Maybe she’d be funny and kind, one of them instead of one of the rest. But… Glass. Hard. Brittle. Easy to see through. She’d be one of the rest, for sure. Dinah Glass.
Obviously, they are real and I don't own them. The fact that this is the first third of a cracked out version of Cinderella might also be a clue that this didn't really happen. Rated NC-17
Kimiella or How Raikonnen ended up at Ferrari
Once upon a time, there was a young man named Kimi Raikonnen. He was not your typical fairy-tale heroine (well, he was a man, fro starters), rather lacking in wicked stepparents and evil step siblings, and though he was quite pretty he was not beautiful enough to be worshipped, not ugly enough to be pitied. His dreams were not those of princesses, but those of peasant boys. No princes for him (or, not very often. Only if it seemed to much trouble to decline); his only desire was to win the Formula One World Championship, and to secure a permanent supply of the magical drink called vodka, which could only be made by moonlight (except when the day ended in ‘y’) and drunk in shadows (though it was perfectly acceptable to create these shadows by closing the curtains).
With all this in mind, and a contract with Sauber in the bag, he was rather surprised, when he crawled out of bed around noon (the magical drink occasionally had some rather unpleasant effects) to find a blond man in an enormous wedding dress standing in a corner of his bedroom.
“Um,” said Kimi.
“I am your fairy godmother,” the man announced. “I’m here to tell you that you shall go to the ball!”
“You look like Mika Hakkinen to me,” Kimi said, rubbing his eyes and trying not to be blinded by the light reflecting off the glitter on Mika’s skirts. Mika glared at him, tugging awkwardly at his low neckline.
“Well, who else would I be?” he demanded. “Now, stand up.”
Kimi stood, rather uncertainly.
“What ball?” he asked, reflecting that maybe he should have asked this a little bit sooner. Mika didn’t bother to answer, just waved his magic wand. There was a rushing feeling and Kimi found himself standing outside a mansion wearing a blue-green silk dress that left little to the imagination. He stared at Mika in mute appeal.
“If I have to, so do you,” Mika said heartlessly.
“Underwear?” Kimi asked hopefully.
“You’ve got to make an impression,” Mika told him. Kimi sighed, and Mika stepped forward in a rustle of skirts and pressed his lips to Kimi’s. Kimi gasped as the other man’s tongue slid across his lips, but then Mika broke the kiss and stepped away.
“Oh, you’ll do,” he said, looking Kimi over slowly. “Now,” he said briskly. “Don’t do anything stupid and make sure you’re home by midnight.”
“What happens if I’m not?” Kimi asked, just to be sure.
Mika gave him a wicked, lascivious look.
“The dress vanishes.”
“Ah,” said Kimi in resignation. Mika waved his wand again and vanished in a cloud of silver sparkles.
Kimi blinked and looked down at himself: the way the dress shimmered and clung to his thighs (and what lay between them); his hands, encased in dark blue gloves that came up to his elbows and made his skin look almost translucent; at his feet in little blue sandals, covered in diamonds and with a two-inch heel. He sighed to himself and stepped tentatively forwards, feeling the slip of the silk across his whole body. He stopped, bit his lip, then tried again.
The unaccustomed height and the difficulty of walking in heels put paid to Kimi’s problem quite quickly however, and he made his way slowly across the drive and up the stairs with the silk swirling around him with every step, sliding across his thighs and buttocks and making him aware of everything.
When he reached the top of the steps, Kimi walked through the double doors and into a large room fully of people. They were all masked. There was music playing, though Kimi couldn’t see any sort of technology or any musicians, but the music made him want to dance and suddenly there was a man at his elbow, sweeping him out onto the dance floor. Kimi picked up the steps quickly, and danced every dance with a different partner. Though he was not flawless, he could feel everyone’s eyes on him even though he could never see anyone actually watching him.
“You’ve got talent,” the man who was dancing with him told him. Kimi twirled and performed a difficult combination of steps, smiling at the man. He was old, older than Kimi at any rate, and moved a little stiffly; even as he steered Kimi skilfully around the other couples on the floor, his focus seemed to be a little elsewhere, his grip just a little too tight.
“Will you do me the honour of the next dance?” the man asked, and Kimi nodded. At the end of the dance, Kimi, with one eye on the time, stepped away and left.
He climbed into one of the limos outside and told the driver to take him home. Leaning back in the expensive seat and closing his eyes, he rested his hands on his thighs before sliding one higher up to tease his already-hard cock through the smooth silk.
“Good,” said a low, appreciative voice. Kimi’s eyes snapped open and he yanked his hand away from his dick as he sat bolt upright, turning in the direction of the voice. Mika was leaning back alongside him, looking at him with glittering eyes. Gone was the ridiculous wedding-dress, the man stretched out beside Kimi now was wearing a clearly expensive black suit that accentuated the lines of his body.
“You’ve made a good first impression,” Mika said, seemingly ignoring Kimi’s obvious discomfort. “You’re well on your way.” He leaned forward, pressing his lips to Kimi’s once again, and this time Kimi kissed back hungrily.
“One thing remains,” Mika told him, pulling away slightly and staring into Kimi’s flushed face, even as his right hand smoothed its way up Kimi’s thigh to cover his cock.
“You’ll be replacing me,” Mika told him, not breaking the gaze as his hand stroked slowly up and down, hot silk gradually becoming damp.
“Ceremonial baton-passing?” Kimi managed to ask derisively, trying not to let his breathing hitch too much as Mika slid the silk over his cock.
“Something like that,” Mika said, a tinge of sadness and something else in his voice, but he moved to capture Kimi’s mouth again and Kimi grabbed at his shoulders, the kiss turning desperate and messy as Mika skilfully brought him to an intense climax, staining the dress pretty much beyond repair.
Kimi sat back, breathing hard, glancing down at the wreckage of the dress before looking over at Mika. He raised and eyebrow, and at Mika’s barely perceptible nod, reached over. Mika’s hand caught his, and he jerked his head. Kimi shrugged, sliding off the seat and onto the floor. The dress was already ruined, after all. Positioning himself between Mika’s legs, he began to unfasten the other man’s trousers. Mika’s hands came down to rest on Kimi’s bare shoulders, making him twitch in surprise. As Kimi leaned forward to take Mika’s cock in his mouth, Mika slid his hands up the side of Kimi’s neck, holding Miki in place. Kimi froze and Mika’s hands pushed gently, guiding him downwards. Kimi put all his energy into resisting that push and staying in place. When Mika didn’t relax, Kimi drew his lips back just a little, allowing his teeth to touch Mika’s cock, first lightly and then a little bit harder. Mika relaxed the pressure just slightly and Kimi moved up a touch, covering his teeth. Mika’s grip was still stronger than he was happy with, but Kimi decided not to push his luck. He set the pace, feeling Mika’s fingers flex around his head as he licked and sucked. Mika’s breathing was audible now, and Kimi felt a flicker of triumph as the other man gasped. Kimi tried to pull off but Mika held him in place, forcing him to swallow. Even when Mika’s hands fell away, Kimi rested there, between his legs. Eventually he say back on his heels, dress rucked up and stretched obscenely over his sticky thighs, and looked at Mika.
"Well?” he asked.
"You’re home,” Mika said. The car stopped and Kimi got out awkwardly. He stumbled inside, ripping off the dress as soon as he was in his bedroom and then diving into the shower before collapsing into bed.
The next morning, the dress was gone and if it weren’t for the unaccustomed ache in his legs, Kimi would have wondered whether he’d dreamt it all. Though, the phone call from his manager telling him that McLaren were thinking of making him an offer went some way to validating the night’s events.
TBC
Coronation Street
Not mine, I make no money. Rated G. Eileen thinks about her sons.
Eileen Grimshaw cradled her baby granddaughter in her arms, and wondered idly whether or not the total uselessness of her sons was her fault. She loved them both to pieces, of course she did, and both of them knew it, but…
Well, Todd had knocked up Sarah (that little trollop!) barely out of school, and that was bad enough but at least he’d stuck by her, sort of, though she didn’t want to think what it said about him that running off to London with that male nurse after the baby died was the most tactful thing he could have done. Still, he’d meant to stick by her, and that was what counted.
Jason, thought, putting some poor girl in the club on a one night stand of all things, and then refusing to accept the little girl as his when the distraught mother turned up in tears on Christmas Day, of all days.
Eileen cooed to her granddaughter and the baby smiled up at her before closing her eyes. Little pet.
Well, thought Eileen, at least he was coming round to her. With Sarah’s help, maybe. That girl had been a total disaster for Todd, but maybe, just maybe, she might be a bit of a good influence on Jason.
Eileen sighed and took the baby upstairs for her nap. It was kind of nice to have a baby about the place. She gave the little girl a kiss and put her gently to bed.
The Demon Headmaster
and again, not mine, rated G
Dinah Glass. Harvey rolled the name around in his head. Transparent. Brittle. Hard. Dinah Glass.
He wondered what she’d be like, this orphan coming to live with them. Pale and tearful? Maybe she’d be mean. Lloyd was sure she’d be mean, was sure she’d be an enemy and things would be awful.
Harvey? Well… Maybe she wouldn’t be anything like her name. Maybe she’d be funny and kind, one of them instead of one of the rest. But… Glass. Hard. Brittle. Easy to see through. She’d be one of the rest, for sure. Dinah Glass.