#kimi r

[multi-twenty-onez]

drabble about ferrari 2009 kimi being lowkey a freak….in his garage….

something something champagne soaked hair….

this gif is from 2009 actually, after his p1-p6 win at Spa

anyway i'll get on with the smut ↓

You smelt him before you saw him, the heady smell of champagne wafting off him in waves. Rough hands found your waist as he pressed himself to your back, sopping wet hair tickling the back of your neck and dripping alcohol down your spine.

‘Been thinking about this all race,’ he murmured, his rough, broken English not doing anything to help stifle the heat rising in your body. ‘You.’

It was just the two of you in his garage, as the Ferrari mechanics had opted to remain in the parc ferme for a little longer, and he was going to make the most of it. Kimi’s lips found your boiling neck, and his teeth did too; you gasped as he left little nips all over the velvet skin of your collarbone and nape.

‘Kimi, we’re—’

‘—In my garage,’ he finished, and you felt the corner of his lips quirk up. ‘I can do what I want.’

You couldn’t argue with his skewed logic at the moment, because his hand was snaking it’s way under your skirt.

‘I could stop?’ he asked cheekily, but you knew he had no intention of it. And by now, you didn’t want him to—you were too riled up by his lips and the cloying smell of expensive bubbly.

‘N-no.’

‘Hyvä tyttö.’ you knew that phrase all too well, despite having a rusty repertoire of Finnish. It meant “good girl”.

And you knew exactly why Kimi smiled when he finally pushed your panties aside—you were soaked. 

‘Knew it.’ he tutted. ‘Watching me get sprayed with champagne does it for you, huh?’

‘Mm—’

‘Should win more often.’

His bluntness, yet another turn-on for you, combined with his fingers plunged deep in your cunt, had your knees quaking like you’d never felt before.

You could faintly hear the roar of the distant crowd over the dirty stream of Finnish being mumbled into your ear. You tensed up—imagine if someone caught you two like this—but Kimi didn’t seem to care.

‘C’mon,’ he muttered, pumping his fingers faster. ‘Pieni aare…’

You could feel tightness knotting deep in your gut, slowly growing almost painful. As his thumb flicked over your clit, you had to bite the inside of your cheek hard to stop yourself from screaming.

A few seconds later, he pulled his hand out of your skirt, your release dripping down his wrist.

You were gasping, trying to fight the red flush you knew was racing up your neck, but there was no use.

Kimi was still as stony-faced as ever, except with a tiny little upward curve to his lips that only you could notice.

He held you close, letting you lean on him as you recovered from the sudden climax.

The Ferrari mechanics and engineers slowly filtered back into the garage. Some clapped Kimi on the back, congratulating him again, and others glanced at you with knowing smirks that they quickly stifled.

‘Just wait ‘till we get back to the hotel,’ Kimi murmured in your ear, and you shivered—for you knew he was a man of his word.

[theicemanspeaks]

I don't know what happened to my engine? I have zero torque!

Kimi Räikkönen on Team Radio

[multi-twenty-onez]

little kimi raikkonen x reader because my hat with his signature came today giggling

if anyone wants to request any fics or anything, literally just go ahead, idc. im bored x

also i think "dag" is like an aussie slang thing. mb. i cant explain it but the picture at the bottom of kimi is pretty much the explanation. like scruffy, daggy

You knew exactly how your mother would have described Kimi Räikkönen. 

What a dag, she would have said. Stay away from him, please.

Luckily for you, she wasn’t there to snark in your ear about your “horrible” taste in men, wasn’t there as you interviewed the members of the 2007 F1 grid.

And at the moment, you were face-to-face with the Iceman himself—wearing polarised sunglasses that reflected your face straight back at you, and a lopsided, lazy smirk.

His Ferrari cap didn’t restrain the hair he’d grown out, either, that silky half-mullet drawing your eyes far too often. 

Kimi sat beside square-jawed Mark Webber. He wore a sort of permanent look of disdain, as if he were a judge harbouring Catholic guilt.

The two had such a stark contrast—perfectly aligning with the different-coloured team kits they wore—that it made you dizzy.

‘So, Mark,’ you began, shuffling the sheaf of papers you’d been handed before the session started. It took place on a pavilion overlooking a field which was slowly filling up with fans.

‘Your first year with Redbull, Mark. You’re racing with the legendary David Coulthard—’ you paused to accommodate the applause ‘—how are you feeling?’

Keeping your eyes trained on Mark was incredibly difficult when you could feel the sunglasses-covered gaze of the Ferrari driver on you, too.

Mark leaned forward to speak into the mic. ‘I’m feeling good, to be honest. Redbull is quite strong this year, with our new car, and we’re working our way up.’

You nodded, letting the crowd shout some various, jumbled things up at the two drivers.

‘You mentioned the RB3. New car, new designer—how do you think Newey’s model will hold up?’

‘I think that’s yet to be seen,’ and you finally saw his lip quirk up. Probably at your own expense, but it was still something.

Kimi shifted in his seat to Mark’s right.

‘The Renault engine has never done me wrong, though,’ he added, shrugging. ‘I hope it’ll be decent.’

You laughed along with him, turning your attention to both of them collectively.

‘Now, you both favour very different driving styles. You’re also both very strong competitors—do you think it’s simply just your skill level?’

Kimi shrugged. ‘I just drive.’

There’s the famous attitude, you thought blandly, returning your attention to Mark. Just as the Australian was about to open his mouth, the Ferrari driver spoke again. He didn’t look happy that you’d dismissed him so quickly.

‘I think my driving is better.’

You saw Mark raise his brows, looking down at the desk that made up the driver’s panel.

It certainly piqued your interest, however, and the ghost of a smile skipped across the Iceman’s lips.

‘How so, Kimi?’

‘He—’ the Finn jerked his thumb toward Mark ‘—too aggressive. They call it grit. I think it’s reckless.’ he didn’t elaborate.

‘And what about you, mate? Oversteer to no tomorrow?’ the Australian’s voice was bitey. ‘You’re not winning anything in that rear-heavy Ferrari.’

Kimi’s jaw clenched. Everyone knew his success was based on having a decent car, and Ferrari’s model didn’t suit his driving style at all. He had just left Mclaren-Mercedes with their understeery MP4-21, after struggling to adapt to a car with uneven balance. Ferrari had, unfortunately, just inherited the same issue.

But, emboldened by your interest in his argument, Kimi didn’t back off like he should have.

‘I did not say anything about my car. If we raced in a balanced car, I would win.’

The crowd gasped collectively. That was a bold claim to make—especially against Mark Webber, a much more senior driver—however, with far less first positions than Kimi.

‘Would you now?’ Mark leaned on the desk, gaze trained on Kimi’s sunglasses. The Iceman didn’t flinch.

‘Doesn’t seem likely, mate.’

‘When our wins are 9-0?’ the Finn smiled slightly. ‘I think I am right.’

Mark’s eye twitched. Always volatile, he stood up abruptly from the panel (his chair falling over in the process), and shot you a glare before storming off the stage.

The crowd was silent. If a pin dropped, even on the soft grass, you’d wager it would ring out loud as a gong.

Kimi just sat on his stool. He looked—maybe it was just your angle—quite proud of himself for making the Australian opt out.

‘Questions?’ he asked, and you now knew that it wasn’t just your imagination. The Finn was practically preening.

‘Oh, um… it’s alright. I think it’s time to bring in the next drivers…’ you said weakly.

He shrugged, and stood up. ‘Enjoy, then.’

And as he walked away, the crowd recovered from their shock. They cheered him all the way off the pavilion, shouting and clapping, some girls even swooning.

You pinched the bridge of your nose. What a dag…

that's the reference picture

[multi-twenty-onez]

volleyball kimi raikkonen sketches 🇫🇮 🏐

[db5ks-archive]

YALL I GOOGLED FAMOUSMALES.COM AND GUESS THE FUCK WHAT??? ITS A GAY PORNSITE IM CACKLING. CAN WE JUST APPRECIATE THE GODDAMN FACT THAT A PICTURE OF YOUNG KIMI MANAGED TO GET ON A GAY PORN SITE IM ON THE FUCKING FLOOR

[theicemanspeaks]

Kimi Räikkönen: Do I have to let him pass or not?

Team Radio: I don't know, I will let you know.

Kimi Räikkönen: Okay I will let him past, I have no speed on the straights.