#anyway i was thinking about the finale and going crazy again

[prettyboykatsuki]

please you can’t mix a/b/o and LaDS. i’ll actually keel over and die. 

i can’t stop thinking about it ….

cw for dubcon kinda and rough sex. fem reader. psuedocest (gege. once shfjsjfj)

caleb in a rut. he grew up pretending to be a beta for your sake, taking as much suppressant medication and as many scent blockers as possible to make sure it was concealed. he wanted you to feel safe, to feel more at ease to the point he suppressed his own body completely

and then everything happens between you and caleb strictly forbids you entering his apartment during his rut. you don’t know it at the time, but they’re still permanently irregular from the whole soup of medications he took during his adolescence. so he has these crazy ruts like once or twice a year where he’s completely not himself.

you only found out he was an alpha recently, as in when he came back as a memeber of the fleet. but you’re partners now, you’re supposed to be equals so you want to help him thru his rut

caleb vehemently rejects you. of course he does. he’s not himself and he never wants to do something you do like.

but you’re stubborn and don’t listen so you go over to his apartment anyway. his scent is so thick it permeates from behind the front door of his place. when he answers it after your persistent yelling - he opens the door and it immediately assaults your senses. he’s shirtless, sweaty, pupils completely dilated. his voice is shot.

“go home. now”

he turns you away at the door. you get in each others face until you finally step on the right nerve and caleb yanks you inside and locks you in. cages your body against his front door with this terrifying look in his eyes, his hand gripping your jaw and making you look up at him “so fucking stubborn,”

you underestimate him when he says it’s bad. you dont realize how bad it is until you’re getting fucked over every surface of the house with little to no prep other that the left over, sticky spit from him trying to lick you open. he takes you first right by the door, your pants barely to your knees while your face is against the floor.

“wish you’d be a good girl and listen but you never do. maybe it’ll be a good lesson for you. remember it carefully”

caleb is always so gentle, so careful and kind but he’s forcing your pussy open like it’s nothing. splitting you on his cock as you cry. and he fucks you so deeply and so intense right from the jump, doesn’t ease you into it at all. he takes you on the floor before he helps you up and bends you over the kitchen counter, the back of the couch, pressed into missionary on the coffee table in his living room, on all fours on the stairs.

he’s being mean about it too. every time your pussy tightens up or clenches around him when he smacks it lightly or when he tortures your clit - he has this laugh that borders on callous. loving but humiliating at the same time

“no matter how much i stretch you open it feels like you’re trying to snap my dick off. do you want it so bad, hm?”

he’s merciless. he’s not himself. he makes sure you don’t hurt yourself when repositioning but you’re so full of cum and so sore you can barely move without limping. covered in these deep bite marks as he just goes again and again. mating like you’re animals until he comes out the haze

“how much cum do you think you have in here?” as he smacks your hip. “stay upright. don’t let it spill okay? since gege was so kind and gave it to you.”

he has moments of sobriety. you can always tell bc he becomes worried and affectionate- lapping at your wounds like an oversized dog. but it’s shortlived. the cycle starts again and your pussys wrapped around him like a sleeve for him to fuck.

you don’t get away from him for three days. it feels like your cunt is gonna stay stretched forever and caleb looks so sad and apologetic after. like a kicked dog

and as crazy as he is during - it’s also kind of . nice to feel how deeply he really desires you. the things he says during his ruts are demeaning but still somehow so lovesick and you kind of like seeing him let loose.

[nameless-jamie]

I LOVE RED CARD!!! I'm hoping it can became a mini series inside a series 🥰🥰🥰 Can you write a continuation to the 1st part where Jamie finds put what Rupert said or maybe he overhears something he said about the PA and his recation? Sorry, I know it's not very specific 😅

Drabble - Retaliation (Red Card)

Read RED CARD first to understand!

Masterlist

Jamie Tartt x fem! PA reader

TW: cursing, angry Jamie

A/N: Hiii I'm not really sure it has potential to become a mini series but I wrote the situation in which Jamie finds out what Rupert specifically said to Y/N and how he reacts. I hope you like it anyway. Time-wise it happens directly after Red Card.

Flashback to Red Card:

“Nah, nah, I’m just—” He shook his head, grinning. “You got sent off tryin’ to protect me.”

She rolled her eyes. “Don’t make it a thing.”

“Oh, it’s definitely a thing.” A really sexy thing. He stepped closer, lowering his voice. “Admit it. You care about me.”

...

She huffed. “Oh, trust me. Next time, I’m throwing a punch.”

Jamie grinned. “Now that, love, I’d pay to see.”

...

Jamie had never been more turned on in his life.

It was bad. Really bad.

He was supposed to be the reckless one, the hothead, the one who got in trouble for letting his emotions get the better of him. But Y/N? His PA? The one who always rolled her eyes at him when he got mouthy on the pitch, who reminded him to “think before he acts” at least once a week?

Yeah. She had just gotten a red card.

And not just any red card. She had squared up to Rupert Mannion, called him a disgusting, pathetic excuse for a man before getting ejected from the stadium.

Yup, they cleared it up, they talked it out, she cared about him. Jamie had talked to her in the locker room after the game and now it was time to go home. He was driving his little crazy assistant and they were walking to the parking lot.

“You,” he said, slow and deliberate, “are insane for that today.”

She groaned. “Jamie—”

“In a good way,” he clarified. “In a sexy way.”

She gaped at him. “That is not the point right now.”

“Yeah, well, I’m still processing,” Jamie said. “’Cause last I checked, I’m the one who does the dumb shit. Not you.”

Y/N huffed, dragging a hand through her hair. “It wasn’t dumb. It was warranted.”

Jamie narrowed his eyes. “What did he say anyway?”

She hesitated.

Jamie stepped closer. “What did he say, Y/N?”

Y/N exhaled, looking away. “Doesn’t matter.”

“It does.”

She shook her head. “Jamie—”

“Tell me.”

Her jaw clenched. Then, finally, she sighed. "He said: What’s Jamie got you doing these days? Fetching his water? Maybe warming his bed? Then he said something about our relationship being a little inappropriate and some misogynistic comments followed, then I lashed out..."

amie’s vision blurred with rage.

“Jamie—”

He was already turning.

“Jamie.”

Her hands grabbed his arm before he could storm back into the stadium. He whirled back to her, jaw tight.

“I’ll kill him.”

“You won’t.”

Jamie scoffed. “You think I won’t?”

“I know you won’t,” she shot back. “Because if you do, I’ll have to bail you out of jail, and I’ve had enough trouble for one night.”

Jamie clenched his fists. “He doesn’t get to talk about you like that.”

“I know,” she said. “That’s why I handled it.”

Jamie turned, looking down at her. “You shouldn’t have had to hear that,” he said, voice low. “Shouldn’t have had to deal with that.”

Jamie’s eyes flickered over her face, still hard with frustration.

She sighed. “Look, I appreciate the protectiveness, but you starting a fight with Rupert isn’t gonna change anything.”

Jamie tilted his head. “Yeah, but it’d make me feel a whole lot better.”

He exhaled again, calming himself. “You didn’t have to do that for me.”

Her gaze softened. “Yeah, I did.”

A beat.

Then Jamie smirked. “So… you called him a disgusting, pathetic excuse for a man?"

Her lips twitched. “Among other things.”

“Fuckin’ hell, love.” Jamie let out a low whistle. “I think I might be in love with you.”

Y/N rolled her eyes, but her cheeks flushed. “Shut up.”

Jamie grinned. “Nah, but seriously—next time, at least let me get in a punch first, yeah?”

She sighed. “You’re impossible. Let it go, Jamie.”

Jamie sighed too. "Fuck, I'll try, will you come home with me, maybe watch a movie and chill. I need some company right now..."

"Always."

Jamie didn’t let it go.

Of course, he didn’t.

Y/N knew him well enough to expect it—the moment Jamie Tartt got something stuck in his head, there was no talking him out of it. And apparently, Rupert Mannion being a misogynistic prick about her was something Jamie was more than willing to go to war over.

She caught him that evening, leaning on his kitchen counter, phone in hand, eyes narrowed at the screen.

“Jamie.”

He didn’t look up. “One sec.”

“No, not one sec,” she said, snatching the phone from his grasp before he could react. She glanced at the screen. He’d been typing—no, retyping—a text to someone.

“Who’s this to?” she asked, scrolling up.

“Don’t—” Jamie made a grab for it, but she dodged, stepping out of reach. “Oi! Give it back, you little thief—”

Her eyes scanned the unsent message.

From Jamie Tartt: If I ever hear you talk about her like that again, I swear to fuck—

She scrolled further.

Jamie Tartt: I don’t care how much money you’ve got, you’re still a sad little man

Jamie Tartt: Watch your fucking mouth, old man.

Y/N sighed, locking the screen and shoving the phone into her back pocket. “Jesus, Jamie.”

“What?” He threw his hands up. “Bloke’s a twat. He deserves it.”

“I know that,” she said, exasperated. “But sending him angry texts isn’t gonna do shit except make you look unhinged.”

Jamie scoffed. “Unhinged? I’ll show you unhinged, love. I was about ten seconds away from driving to West Ham’s training ground and dealing with him properly.”

She stared at him. “You mean fighting him?”

Jamie lifted a shoulder. “Not fight fight. Just… you know.” He made a vague punching motion. “Maybe a little slap. He’s old, innit? Wouldn’t take much.”

Y/N groaned, rubbing her temples. “You’re impossible.”

Jamie huffed. “I should’ve done something. Back when he said it. Should’ve knocked him on his arse right there.”

She looked up at him then, properly looked. Jamie wasn’t just pissed—he was guilty.

“Jamie,” she said, softer now. “You did do something. You supported me."

“Yeah, but I didn’t even know what he said.” His jaw tensed. “If I had—”

“You’d be serving a five-game, by now.” she finished.

Jamie exhaled sharply. “It weren’t even about football. He was just bein’ a prick, just tryna put you down ‘cause you’re—”

He cut himself off.

Y/N raised an eyebrow. “Because I’m what?”

Jamie swallowed. “Because you’re you.”

Something passed between them. Something unspoken but heavy.

Jamie shifted, glancing away, scuffing his boot against the floor. “Look, all I’m sayin’ is—if he ever talks about you like that again, I will do something about it. Don’t care if I get fined, don’t care if I get benched. Just so we’re clear.”

Y/N bit her lip. “You really would fight him, wouldn’t you?”

Jamie met her gaze. “Yeah.” His voice was quiet. “Yeah, I would. As far as we know you would too, love.”

Y/N didn’t know what to say to that.

So instead, she reached into her pocket, pulled out his phone, and handed it back.

“No more angry texts.”

Jamie sighed, stuffing the phone into his hoodie. “Fine.”

“Good.”

A beat.

Then Jamie smirked. “I’ll just send him a really sarcastic fruit basket instead.”

Y/N groaned. “Jamie.”

“Oi, that’s classy retaliation, that is.”

She rolled her eyes, but she was smiling. “Come on, dumbass. I’ll buy you dinner before you come up with any more terrible ideas.”

Jamie grinned. “You are my favorite, y’know that?”

“Yeah, yeah,” she muttered, shoving him playfully. “You better start behaving, or I might switch teams.”

Jamie’s smirk faltered for a split second.

Then, before she could register it, he was grabbing her wrist, tugging her just slightly closer, his voice dropping.

“Not funny, love.”

Y/N blinked.

Jamie held her gaze, a flicker of something serious in his expression. But before she could say anything, he let go, stepping back with an easy grin.

“Right,” he said, stretching. “What we havin’ for dinner?”

Y/N exhaled, pushing away whatever that moment was. “Anything except fruit baskets.”

Jamie chuckled. “Shame. Would’ve been a great fruit basket.”

As they walked out together, Y/N knew one thing for sure:

Rupert Mannion may have been a smug bastard—

But Jamie Tartt?

He was a dangerous one.

[piastrw]

i would love to read abt a threesome in the bunny oscar verse… maybe max and charles get to him before he goes to carlos…!!

kink prompt list

me when i go insane and write almost 4k words for a tumblr prompt game….

anyway. here’s the bunny fix au where charles and max get to oscar before he goes to carlos (this is my first time writing a threesome so if the logistics are fucked. no they’re not. just go with it 😔) enjoy bunny oscar 🐰

—

Oscar stands at the edge of the room, arms crossed, glaring at Max and Charles perched on his hotel bed.

He takes a second to process.

First—he’s got fucking bunny ears on his head and a dumb little tail twitching above his ass.

Second—Max fucking Verstappen and Charles fucking Leclerc are staring at him like he’s the daily special and they haven’t eaten in weeks.

Alright.

He clears his throat. “Care to explain?” He pauses. Then, deadpan: “Please.”

Max answers, casual as anything. “We’re here to help.”

Charles nods, smiling.

Oscar squints, suspicion creeping in. “Why?”

Charles tilts his head, thoughtful. “Do you want the truth or the PG version?”

Oscar just scoffs, arms crossing tighter.

Max grins. “Oscar, you’re hot. And you’ve got bunny ears.” A shrug, like that should explain everything. “It’s cute.”

…Huh.

“You know Charles said your cat ears were cuter, right?” Oscar says.

And—holy shit. Max blushes.

What the hell.

“Not the point, Oscar,” Charles cuts in.

This is the dumbest situation of Oscar’s life.

Max moves. Grabs his wrist. Tugs him in with zero effort.

“Come on, baby.” Low voice. Too smooth. “Just yes or no.”

Easy. Yes or no.

Except it’s not easy.

Oscar stands there, heart in his throat. He’s never had a threesome before. And, look—he’s not stupid. He knows Max and Charles are hot. He’s not blind, and he’s definitely gay enough to notice.

It should be simple.

But then he thinks about what Lando said earlier.

What about Carlos? Lando had teased. You two could finally work out all that crazy sexual tension.

Would Carlos even want him like this? Would he pull Oscar close, kiss him slow, murmur Yes, Oscar, of course I’ll fuck the bunny ears off you against his skin?

Or—worse—would he laugh? Say something stupid that would leave Oscar crawling out of his own skin with secondhand embarrassment?

It’s too much. One fucking day with this curse and he’s already at his limit.

So he looks back at Max and Charles, their gazes heavy, waiting.

“…Yes,” he whispers.

Charles lights up, grinning so wide it should be illegal.

And then Max moves again. Closes the space. Slots their mouths together.

Oscar makes a soft noise—surprise, maybe.

It barely registers before Max deepens the kiss, the hand on his waist sliding up to grip his hip. Oscar moans into it, flushed hot with embarrassment when Max’s hold tightens, fingers pressing into skin.

A tongue slides between his lips, shameless, licking into his mouth like a man starved.

Oscar barely has time to process before Max pulls back, lips shiny, a thin string of spit connecting them.

“Bed, yes?” Max murmurs.

Oscar nods. Too fast. His brain is definitely short-circuiting.

Charles tugs him onto the bed, barely gives him a second to breathe before he’s straddling Charles’ lap, hands warm on his hips.

One slides up, fingers curling into Oscar’s hair, the other pressing low against his back, riding his shirt up as he leans in.

Charles kisses him. Really kisses him. Deep. Wet. Tongue and teeth.

Oscar just melts.

The tension in his shoulders dissolves as Charles sucks on his bottom lip, pulling a noise from him that he definitely didn’t mean to make.

Behind them, Max chuckles. “You look good like this.” His hands skim up Oscar’s sides, fingers pressing against the curve of his ribs.

Oscar shivers.

And then—hands.

Inside his sweats. Charles cups his ass, thumbs pressing right at the base of his stupid, twitching tail.

Oscar shudders, gasping into his mouth, hips grinding down before he can stop himself. Charles’ fingers trail over the fluffy base, and Oscar jerks—whimpers—rubs against him.

“So sensitive,” Charles murmurs against his lips, but Oscar can barely think past the needy little sounds slipping from his mouth, past the way his skin burns hot.

When they break apart, Oscar’s lips feel swollen, raw, already aching for more.

Max’s firm hands peel Oscar’s shirt off, toss it aside, drags him to lay down against the pillows.

Oscar’s chest heaves. His floppy ears twitch wildly. His tail probably gives him away entirely.

Max settles between his legs, fingers already at his waistband, and Oscar exhales—

Lifts his hips eagerly, lets Max pull his sweats down in one smooth motion.

And fuck—

He’s so hard. Already leaking. Already aching. His ears flatten for half a second, heat crawling up his neck.

Charles hums in approval beside them. Beaming.

Max shrugs off his shirt, and Oscar stares. Like, full-body frozen, pupils blown wide, mouth dry.

He wants to touch. Wants to bite. Wants—

The bed shifts. Charles moves in, propping himself up on one elbow, so close that Oscar can feel the heat of him, can smell his skin.

And, okay. Look. Oscar knows he looks good. But right now? Spread out, practically presenting for two of the most unfairly attractive men he’s ever met?

Yeah. His instincts are going haywire. He needs.

His thighs twitch, caught between spreading wider and rubbing together for any kind of friction—but Max catches his knee, presses it back down.

“Don’t hide,” Max murmurs.

Oscar shudders, a sharp, needy tremor running straight down his spine.

Charles hums, dragging his fingers up Oscar’s chest, teasing over his nipples.

“So pretty, mon lapin,” Charles whispers.

Heat floods Oscar’s face—hot, humiliating—but the words, the praise, only make his cock twitch, dripping against his tummy.

He bites his lip, tries to keep quiet, tries to breathe—

“Let us hear you, baby.” Max’s lips brush against his ear.

Then Max wraps a hand around his cock, strokes slow, and—

Oscar moans. High and needy, hips bucking wildly into Max’s fist.

Charles laughs, pressing kisses down his neck, nipping just enough to make him writhe.

Oscar’s brain is gone. His body knows what it wants, and it’s this.

“Please,” he gasps, barely aware of the word leaving his mouth. “Fuck, please—”

Charles tugs lightly at one of his floppy ears, then brushes a teasing stroke over the fur. Oscar whines, the sound breaking as Max drags his thumb over the head of his cock, smearing the precum around.

“Making a mess,” Max murmurs, pumping him slow.

Charles shifts, stripping down to his boxers before pressing in close again, bare skin against bare skin. Oscar moans, feeling Charles’ fingers skim over his belly, dipping low, almost brushing against Max’s hand.

Max grabs him behind the knee, pushing his leg up, spreading him wide.

“Charlie,” Max says, “hold our bunny open for me, baby.”

Charles sighs, but he’s eager, grabbing Oscar’s thigh and draping it over his waist. Oscar feels the hard line of Charles’ cock pressing against him, making his breath stutter.

“Shit,” Max swears, running a thumb around his dry hole, then swiping lower, pressing briefly against the base of his fluffy tail, smushed against the sheets. “So fucking hot, Oscar.”

Oscar whimpers, nerves sparking, body thrumming with need.

“Want us to fuck you?” Charles murmurs, lips brushing his ear.

Oscar doesn’t even need to think. He nods immediately.

Max hums. “Lube?”

Oscar barely manages a breathless, “Suitcase.” He points weakly toward the corner of the room.

Max pulls away instantly, leaving Oscar’s cock to drop against his belly pathetically. He makes a frustrated noise, pouting without thinking.

Charles laughs. “Poor bunny,” he coos, and before Oscar can complain, Charles wraps a hand around his cock, stroking him just as slow, just as teasing as Max had.

Oscar whimpers, hips jerking. “Don’t—”

Charles grins, kissing the corner of his mouth. “Don’t what?”

Oscar glowers. “Tease.”

Charles just laughs again, fingers tightening. “I won’t.”

Max is back in an instant, tossing the bottle of lube onto the mattress before leaning in, kissing Oscar again. At the same time, Charles picks up the pace of his hand.

Oscar whines into Max’s mouth. Jesus—he feels wrecked.

Four hands, two mouths—touching him, kissing him, pulling him apart piece by piece. Oscar is dizzy with it.

He’s so overwhelmed he can’t even think.

Max kisses him deep, tongue slipping past Oscar’s lips, swallowing every whimper. Charles is stroking his cock faster now, twisting his wrist just right, the way Oscar likes—and fuck, he’s—

His fingers clutch at Max’s shoulders, nails digging in as he whines, hips stuttering, body tensing all at once.

Charles chuckles against his jaw, breath warm. “That’s it,” he murmurs. “Come for us, bunny.”

Oscar does.

His body arches, a wrecked sob catching in his throat as he spills over Charles’ hand, pleasure crashing over him so intensely he can’t even focus, only aware of Max kissing him through it, of Charles stroking him through the aftershocks.

Oscar shudders, gasping against Max’s lips. His body feels boneless.

Charles hums, swiping his fingers through the mess on Oscar’s stomach with a smirk. “Cute.”

Oscar groans, already feeling the embarrassment creeping in, but Max just kisses him again softly.

He lays there, disassociating slightly, floating somewhere between bliss and disbelief as Max and Charles move around him.

It was just a handjob. A fucking handjob. Why does he feel like his soul just left his body?

But he doesn’t even have time to process it before there are hands on him again.

“Wait—” he starts, but Charles is already flipping him onto his stomach, pressing a warm hand to the small of his back to keep him in place.

Oscar tenses immediately. He knows what they’re looking at. He knows.

“Oh,” Charles hums, pleased. His fingers ghost over the base of Oscar’s tail, right where it meets his skin.

Oscar groans, shoving his face into the pillow. “Don’t laugh about it.”

Max is laughing, the bastard. “Don’t be embarrassed,” he teases, dragging a finger down Oscar’s spine. “It’s adorable.”

Then Charles’ fingers curl around the little fluff of his tail, giving it the tiniest tug—just testing, just playing—

And Oscar whimpers.

“Don’t do that,” Oscar breathes, muffled into the sheets.

Charles tilts his head. “Why? You don’t like it?” He leans in, pressing a soft kiss to Oscar’s shoulder blade.

Oscar doesn’t respond. He just shifts his hips back, trying to escape Charles’ hands, feeling overwhelmed.

But then—oh, fuck.

His movement presses him right into Max’s crotch. Ass to dick.

Oscar freezes.

What the fuck? When did Max lose his pants?

Slowly, Oscar turns his head—

Max is right there, naked, thick and hard and heavy against Oscar’s skin, looking entirely unbothered by the situation.

Oscar swallows. “Jesus.”

Charles giggles beside him, delighted. Oscar thinks he might actually die.

Even the drag of the sheets against his oversensitive cock is too much, but now there’s this—Max pressed up behind him, big and hard—and Oscar feels like he might just combust on the spot.

Charles kisses him again, slow and distracting, maybe to pull his focus away from the sound of Max uncapping the lube.

Oscar swears he hears Max mutter something like, “I have to do all the work,” before slick fingers slide up the curve of his ass, spreading the warmth over his skin.

Oscar moans, into Charles’ mouth. His body is thrumming, humming, aching with sensitivity, but it feels good—so good it’s almost unbearable.

Charles breaks the kiss first, lips pink and swollen, breathing a little uneven. “Oscar,” he starts, but Oscar doesn’t open his eyes, too caught up in the feeling of Max’s fingers teasing around his rim.

Charles makes a pleased little sound, then tugs lightly at Oscar’s floppy ears, making them twitch. “Bunny,” he coaxes, “look at me.”

Oscar barely manages to crack his eyes open. Charles is watching him, pupils blown, looking half-amused and half-starved, and Oscar doesn’t even get a chance to ask what he wants before Charles is leaning in close, murmuring against his lips—

“I want you to fuck me.”

He says it at the same time Max pushes a finger inside him, sinking in with zero resistance.

Oscar chokes on a breath, body jerking. “Christ—”

Charles just smirks, dragging his fingers over the tips of Oscar’s ears again, playful and teasing. “Is that a yes?” he murmurs.

Oscar nods, eager, desperate. “Fuck yes—”

Just as Max adds another finger.

Oscar gasps. His grip tightens on Charles’ waist, fingers pressing into soft skin before he fumbles clumsily at Charles’ boxers, trying to shove them down. Charles huffs a quiet laugh but lifts his hips to help.

And just like that—everyone’s naked.

Oscar barely has time to process it, the sheer absurdity of it.

His tail twitches again but he doesn’t notice, too caught up in the slow drag of Max’s fingers inside him, stretching him open.

Max notices, though.

And he fucking laughs, pressing a kiss to the back of Oscar’s neck.

Oscar would argue—he wants to—but then Max crooks his fingers just right, and any protest unravels into a sharp, punched-out breath.

He tries to focus, to be useful, to help Charles open up for him. It’s difficult when Max is knuckle-deep inside him, but Oscar doesn’t want to be selfish.

“Charles,” he murmurs, sliding a palm over Charles’ waist, pulling him closer. His hand trails lower, fingers dipping between Charles’ cheeks—

And he feels it.

Cool metal, smooth against his fingertips.

Oscar stills. Blinks.

“What the fuck,” he breathes.

Behind him, Max huffs a quiet laugh—watching, obviously—while Charles just smiles, biting his lip as he tugs playfully at Oscar’s floppy ear.

“Something wrong, bun?”

Oscar doesn’t answer. Can’t.

Max pulls his fingers out of him with a slick sound, and Oscar shudders, his round, fluffy tail still wagging—pathetically.

“He wanted to be prepared for you, Oscar.”

Charles hums, tilting his head. Then he lays back properly, spreading his legs, feet flat on the bed. His fingers hook around the plug, twisting once before pulling it out.

The stretch of it makes his mouth fall open, cheeks pink, breath catching as it slides free.

“Come on,” he murmurs.

Oscar makes a broken little noise. His cock twitches, leaking, his tail fluttering all excited.

Max’s hands are warm on his waist as they guide him forward, pressing him between Charles’ legs, close enough that Oscar can see—pink, slick, stretched just enough. Waiting for him.

“Go on, bunny,” Max purrs, breath hot against Oscar’s ear. “Be good for him.”

Oscar doesn’t need to be told twice.

He presses in, slow at first, just the head slipping inside—and fuck, Charles is tight, warm, soft.

Charles exhales, a breathy little oh, barely even a sound, but it shoots straight through Oscar, makes his thighs tremble as he pushes deeper, sinking into heat that wraps around him like a vice.

His breath stutters. His tail twitches, thumping against Max’s stomach where he’s still pressed up close behind him.

Max laughs, dragging his hands down Oscar’s sides, not helping.

“You feel that?” Max murmurs, fingers squeezing at Oscar’s hips. “So tight for you. He’s been waiting for this.”

Oscar groans, drops onto his elbows on either side of Charles’ head. His ears flop forward, stupid, falling into his face, brushing against Charles’ cheeks.

He growls, annoyed, shaking his head, but they won’t stay back—fuck, is this how girls feel when their hair gets in the way?

Charles giggles. “Let me hold them for you,” he whispers, reaching up, fingers curling around the base of Oscar’s ears, holding them back as he pulls him down for a kiss.

His fingertips brush through the fur, soft, barely-there, and Oscar shudders. His whole body tenses, a sharp, instinctive reaction that makes Charles gasp beneath him, makes his cock throb where he’s buried deep.

Max hums, knowing. “Sensitive there, aren’t you, bunny?”

Oscar makes a helpless, wrecked little sound. Max chuckles, dragging one hand up his waist, the other sliding lower, fingers pressing between his thighs, teasing his hole already so open and fucking wet with lube.

“Let’s see how long you last.”

Oscar barely has time to breathe before Max spreads him open, thumbs pressing into the soft give of his ass, exposing him as Oscar shudders.

Charles keeps kissing him, keeps nipping at his lips, holding him close. His cock leaks between them, smearing wet against Oscar’s stomach, and Oscar can feel the way he jumps horny.

Then Max presses in, forcing Oscar open around the thick stretch of it, and fuck—

Oscar yelps. His tail wags—pathetic—kicking uselessly against Max’s stomach as he sinks deeper, stretching Oscar wide.

It’s too much. Too full, too overwhelming, his body torn between the heat swallowing him up front and the impossible pressure behind.

Max bottoms out, buried to the hilt inside him.

But he doesn’t move.

Doesn’t fuck him.

Just stays there, cock thick and heavy in his ass, his hands firm on Oscar’s waist.

Oscar whines, twitching his hips, trying to move, but Max’s grip stays firm.

“Work for it, Oscar,” Max murmurs. His fingers press into Oscar’s waist, thumbs dragging possessive circles over the dip of his hips. “Make it good for us.”

Okay.

Oscar moves.

And fuck, it’s insane.

Every thrust has him caught between them.

Oscar just whimpers. He doesn’t know where to focus—

Max, thick inside him, stretching him deep, pressing against everything that makes his body sing. Or Charles, tight and slick around him, needy, clenching like he wants to pull Oscar deeper, hold him there, keep him.

Max groans behind him, fingers digging into his waist, guiding his movements, controlling the rhythm.

Charles tilts his head, lips brushing hot against Oscar’s throat right over the two tiny freckles there, breath ragged as he whispers, “Feels good?”

Oscar makes a sound, half a moan, half a whine, too overwhelmed to answer.

Max just laughs. “Look at him.”

Charles hums. “So pretty when he’s gone like this.” His lips trace up Oscar’s throat, pressing soft, almost affectionate kisses against the flushed skin. “Nothing going on in that bunny brain, huh?”

Oscar tries to glare, but Max snaps his hips forward, punching the air from his lungs and the moan that leaves his mouth betrays him.

“Yeah, that’s what I thought,” Charles breathes, tightening around him.

Max groans behind him, dragging his hands up Oscar’s ribs. “Think he even remembers his own name right now?”

Charles huffs out a quiet laugh, tilting his hips up. “Doubt it. Try asking him.”

Max’s grip tightens, his next thrust sharp enough to make Oscar keen. “Oscar,” Max murmurs. “What’s your name, baby?”

Oscar makes a wrecked noise. His brain isn’t fucking working, everything drowned out by the stretch, the heat, the feeling of being caught between them, used and ruined and owned.

“Shit,” Charles laughs, dragging his nails down Oscar’s back. “Nothing. All gone.”

Oscar hates them.

He loves them.

His thighs shake as he tries to move, but it’s too much. He can’t keep up.

“Aw,” Max coos, leaning in, pressing a kiss to the shell of his ear. “You need help, bunny? Want us to take care of you?”

Oscar whimpers, nodding fast.

Max grins, grips Oscar’s hips tight, and snaps into him, knocking a moan from his throat. The pace has Oscar’s body moving helplessly, his own cock grinding up into Charles, every thrust forcing his tiny little jerks into Charles’s body.

“Fuck—fuck, I’m close—” Charles gasps, suddenly high, and Oscar feels it when he clenches down around his cock.

Oscar whimpers because fuck, Charles is so pretty like this. His flushed cheeks, his damp curls, his mouth falling open in a soft, ruined little O—and then he’s coming, hot between them, making a mess of their stomachs, shaking as his hips stutter.

“Jesus—shit—” Oscar whines, body tensing, “me too, me too—”

Charles barely opens his eyes, still dazed, pupils blown as he presses their foreheads together. “Fuck, bun,” he whispers. “Inside me, yes? Want you to fill me up.”

Oscar breaks.

He comes with a whimper, pleasure ripping through him, his nose scrunching up, mouth open, bunny teeth peeking through.

Charles kisses him through it, licking into his mouth, swallowing every little sound, his hole milking Oscar’s cock as he fills him up.

“Fuck,” Max growls behind them, his pace turning sloppy, even harder, dragging out Oscar’s over-sensitivity with every deep, wet thrust. Oscar whimpers, so overstimulated he can barely breathe.

“Gonna cum,” Max mutters.

Oscar just nods, too gone to do anything else—just lets Max spill inside him.

—

Oscar is wrecked. Properly, thoroughly, blissed-out wrecked.

He hopes it worked, hopes the curse is fucked off for good, because he’s tucked against Charles’ chest like a very satisfied, very well-used plush toy. His ears twitch sleepily, tail flicking lazily, no longer the frantic thing it was before.

Max is watching it with way too much interest.

“It’s still moving,” Max murmurs, reaching out to press a finger into the soft fluff of it.

Oscar groans, barely lifting his head. “Stop.”

Max, predictably, does not stop. He taps it again, grinning when it twitches. “I think it likes me.”

Charles snorts, arms locked around Oscar like a weighted blanket, fingers scratching lightly at Oscar’s scalp. “Doubt it. Bunny’s just too blissed out to fight back.”

Oscar makes a noise, part whine, part groan. “I hate both of you.”

Max taps his tail again, watching it twitch, fascinated. “Do you, though?”

“Yes,” Oscar grumbles. But he’s too warm, too sated, too heavy with post-fuck satisfaction to put any real venom behind it.

Charles hums, pressing a lazy kiss to Oscar’s forehead. “Bunny’s lying. He loves us.”

Oscar pointedly does not answer.

His tail flicks again, slow and sleepy.

Max grins. “Guess that’s a thank you.”

[gyllenhaalstuff]

i will go crazy if ur able to write a robert graysmith from zodiac smut…. i know hes a real person but JAKES VER yknow 😓😓😓😓

i will do anything since theres like. one small fanfic of him

I would die for Jake in Zodiac. This is really short but a need.

Just Like Honey

- Robert Graysmith

Summary: Robert needs to relax after work and gets pussy drunk yay

Warnings: Oral (f receiving), fingering, sweet cute subby Robert.

Word count: 631

Notes: Short blurbish fic. I need human touch. Anyways, stream just like honey by jesus and the mary chain.

┈┈┈┈﹤୨♡୧﹥ ┈┈┈┈

Robert in bed was exactly what you’d expect. Giving, kind. 

After a long day at work, all he wanted to do was kneel before the couch and bury his face between your legs.

Like this night, where he got home late. His hair was wet from the rain pouring down. After taking off his jacket, he innocently sat down on the rug in front of the couch and rested his tired head on your thigh. 

Your hand stroked his cheek. Poor thing was so tired. He placed a kiss to your leg and looked up at you. His droopy eyes almost made him look sad. “Long day?” you asked calmly, wanting to scoop him up and put him in your pocket. 

He hummed and nodded, “Yeah.” His kisses made their way up higher, kissing on top of your leggings.

“Shouldn’t you go to bed, baby?” You didn’t want him to tire himself out more. But Robert shook his head and hooked his fingers into the hem of your pants. “I wouldn’t be able to go to sleep without doing this,” he explained as he pulled them off, “Wouldn’t be able to stop thinking about it.”

His hair was getting a bit drier now, and you ran your hands through it, scratching his scalp. A weak smile spread across his face as you did.

Robert put his face against your clothed cunt, bumping his nose against your clit. He breathed in your scent, and if he wasn’t as tired and vulnerable, you would have called him a pervert for doing it. 

He pulled your panties off and dove back in. You hissed when he placed an open-mouthed kiss over your slit, lightly flicking his tongue over it. You involuntarily rolled your hips against his face, which made him harden his grip on your hips.

When Robert was this tired and pussy drunk, he’d eat you out without a goal in mind. It was like he forgot where he was; his mind just went blank. His kisses were placed randomly, slow and selfish. He was basically making out with your clit, just enjoying rolling his tongue over your warm, wet skin. If you wanted to cum, you’d have to slap him out of it and get him to work.

His chin was drenched in saliva and your wetness, and he alternated between sucking lightly on your clit and lapping at your hole. His eyes were closed, like he was asleep. 

He could go for hours, and he had done that before. Sometimes he’d go down on you while you were working on a paper at the kitchen table or watching TV. He was very easy to please in that way.

“Robert,” you said, hoping to catch his attention. “Mm?” he hummed in response, neither opening his eyes nor removing his mouth from you. “You’re torturing me,” you whined. You needed him to speed up, add a finger or shove his cock in you. Any added stimulation would satisfy you.

“Okay,” he whined, upset his favourite past time was coming to an end. He pushed his middle finger into you while suctioning his mouth around your clit. Your thighs trembled. Finally.

It didn’t take long until his pointer finger joined and pushed into you too. He had a rhythm down of hitting your g-spot and flicking his tongue against your clit simultaneously, making you trap his head between your legs, which he didn’t mind.

After you came, he cleaned you up with his tongue. He cleaned his fingers too. Still in a trance as he pushed them into his mouth and sucked them off.

You took good care of him that night. Returning the favor and holding him as he fell asleep. And this chain of events would go on to repeat itself over and over again.

[kimi-co]

wait whats the tea w kimi and paul aron

in short you can skip over to 2024-03, but i wanted to put together a rough timeline for those interested (≈3 people on here lmao):

2017: kimi antonelli (11) was scouted by the mercedesf1 junior team (mjt) and introduced to toto wolff

2018: paul aron (14) won the CIK-FIA OK Junior Karting European Championship and was officially signed into mjt. so was kimi, who won several WSK titles and was offered a one-year sponsorship

2019: paul stepped up to a full season of italian f4 with prema but finished 3rd behind hauger and his prema teammate, and 7th in ADAC f4. kimi won more karting titles with the rosberg racing academy, so merc offered him a 10-year contract and he got full sponsorship for the 2020 season

2020: mjt decided to move paul up the feeder series ladder anyways, and he finished 11th in the renault eurocup (the old freca). kimi won the CIK OK european title but fractured his leg and arm in the world final

2021: paul finished 3rd in freca. kimi was recovering from his injury so he only did three italian f4 races with prema

2022: mjt put paul through another year of freca in which he finished 3rd behind his prema teammate, but let him compete in formula regional asian as well in which he finished 8th. i get that, at this point paul was probably already thinking he should be sent to f3 instead. and he was not too happy with repeating the 3rd. so at prema's year end party (or maybe in the 2023 one i cant remember) he said something like i wish the team championship trophy is my driver championship trophy instead. last year i was consistent but didnt have as many wins as my temmates, so this year i got the most wins, but still dino got the title (because the team fumbled some of my races)

kimi won both the f4 adac and f4 italian titles. broke his wrist in the fia motorsports games qualifying, won the final, but missed the winter test

and because paul and kimi were the only mercedes juniors in the team they filmed quite a lot of cute content together as a duo (the hatewatch was getting too serios i almost forgot about all the prema media💀) pretty sure their trainers knew each other too.

2023: everybody thought kimi would move up to f3 but he was sent to formula regionals. won both the freca and frmec titles thereby earning enough f1 super license points. paul got 3rd in f3 behind his prema teammate again (i swear all this man ever did was finished third). he considered himself worthy of the merc-sponsored f2 seat because the top 6 in that year's championship all moved up

2023-09: merc announced that kimi would be moving up to f2 with prema and the other seat was already taken by ollie

2023-10: kimi already won his freca title but with a last lap overtake in the last race he won the title for the team as well. paul was also there because his brother ralf aron, who's a team manager at prema, was racing GT the same weekend. he went to greet kimi before the race start

all of the above was honestly just to show why paul thought he should move up and why merc wasn't so sure about that. i am assuming paul felt robbed regarding the f2 situation, and he did the logical thing to deviate from mjt's plan for him by doing the final 2024 f2 race with trident. i am not sure when exactly he left but the announcement came out late in november that he would no longer be a merc junior driver. he subsequently signed with hitech f2 (team principle oli oakes). he liked some tweets saying prema and mjt failed him. should have promoted him instead

2023 post-season: kimi left a final like on paul's ig? they might have talked to each other at the award ceremony. some fans asked paul to sign a merc shirt to which he said you know i hate those guys

2024 pre-season: lewis's ferrari move. toto wolff couldnt keep his mouth shut so kimi was put under immense pressure as the to-be 'lewis hamilton replacement'. media cooked up rumors about kimi going to williams. prema flopped. so people started to call toto crazy and kimi antonelli the wonderkid a big joke

2024-03: bahrain: ollie in a ferrari. australia: kimi qualified p2, reverse grid for sprint and moved up to p4, spun on his own. vershoor took avoidant action and also spun. vershoor clipped paul's front wing. paul was beyond frustrated after the race, and said on socials that he really disagreed with the action of some driver. went on twitter to like more hate posts against kimi. said to his fans in his ig subscriber groupchat that he would have won the race if not for kimi antonelli doing his wonderkid thing. feature race, almost pushed kimi sideway to the wall. kimi avoided it so fia investigated but said no further action. kimi finished p4 in the feature race but paul was on the podium.

before the summer break: hitech was doing good and paul got more p2/p3s, leading the championship. at imola where colapinto overtook him rather agressively on the last straight he was so pissed off that he just walked off the podium after getting the trophy, so no champange no group photo whatsoever. then throughout the first half of the f2 season the narrative was just mercedes sacked the wrong driver. give paul an f1 seat. more false rumors on kimi replacing logan sargeant. people saying kimi's an even bigger joke. kimi should be in f3 intead. kimi's gonna be the next logan sargeant. stuff like that. kimi got his first wins in f2 before paul. some weekends with scarcely any points

after the summer break: oli oakes moved up to alpine. hitech began to flop. kimi turned 18, debut, spun, contract announced and some fans didnt really need him to turn 18 to start their hatewatching anyway. turned out colapinto would replace logan. i think paul might have liked one or two posts in between but definitely not the announcement itself. no interactions from kimi.

2024-11: they were at the qatar fanzone, sitting like

host ollie kimi paul jak isack. (fun stuff: paul and jak are best friends with ollie because they've more or less always raced in the same categories with prema growing up. as for kimi you can go to anybody's bearnelli tag for this just not mine) basically ollie moved his chair towards kimi so they began to sit like

host olliekimi paul jak isack.

paul was doing a collab with parcferme (a feeder series media account that took a lot of the f2 driver photos) so he got a couple merch he wanna throw to the fans to advertise. but the host was just talking to ollie and kimi. paul: there are three other drivers on the stage let us talk too

2024-12: very dark month for kimi and me i am not gonna elaborate... paul finished 3rd in the championship (AGAIN) and got announced as the alpine reserve (not surprised considering his connection to oli). turned out he might have a shot at f1 afterall but then alpine signed colapinto lol

paul seemed to be liking kimi's posts idk man but you can go through the aronelli tag (it's very disorganized you've been warned)

[winniebee]

the headcanon that tommy has some strands of white hair from the revival is v good, but i love it especially when it’s paired with the “post-prison dream with white hair because of the constant death and revival experiments.” because can you imagine being tommy, looking in the mirror every day and seeing the strands of permanently white hair from an experience just as permanently scarring, and then asking the man who gave you those scars to let you see his face. he does. and his once golden hair is now completely, horrifyingly white.

[bumblydumbly]

Already said this but since everybody is too busy on the failmance happening im gonna say it again: Vi starting their confrontation by saying “never thought [my sister] would orphan kids” only to be stopped from killing jinx. By an orphan kid.

[californiaquail]

anyone else feeling fundamentally incapable of adjusting to society. also just discovered there's a 30 tag limit which i can't believe i've never hit before

[xxplastic-cubexx]

need a comic book wrapped or something so i can reflect on how obsessive i was

[tvuniverse]

Listen i just want to preface this by saying I don't even personally hate Tommy, but that's not really the point i want to make so here goes nothing.

The way a lot of people act as if it's impossible to dislike him because the characters have moved on so so should we, right? and that's the thing right here, as poc we're always being told to move on. We can't express our feelings, we can't hold grudges, we can't complain about issues without making it something more than it is, we always have to just... move on.

I know people are going to say it's just a show, it's not that serious, but the issues it touches on and the way fandom speaks on those issues are.

I've seen a lot of comparisons between Tommy and other mains, how each of them are flawed and have screwed up one way or another, and you're right, but it's still unfair to compare him to them. We've seen each of the main characters experience guilt, or be ashamed of their action, we've seen them apologise, put in the work to actually grow, and they have. There's not enough time in an episode for us to see that for side characters. In this case, Tommy didn't do any of the above and that's normal, he was a plot device to show some very real societal issues, and especially what people of colour/women might go through in the workplace, and once he served his purpose he didn't get much more beyond a few scenes where it seemed like everything was fine between him and chim/hen. It would be more appropriate to compare him to the buckley parents, (who appeared in more or less the same amount of episodes) like if people suddendly started saying no one is allowed to hate them because they got their redemption, their kids more or less forgave them, they more or less tried to be better parents. And yet it's still not enough for a lot of people, because how they treated their children, the shit they've said to them, hits a little too close to home for a lot of people and so no matter what the show says or does, they'll still be mostly hated by the audience, and that's more than okay. But if margaret buckley is your favourite character than by all means be my guest. And listen, i love this show, it's all about hope, and it means everyone gets a redemption arc, as short as it is (sometimes even just a sentence lol), but we won't always be satisfied with these arcs, especially if they don't feel proportional to the hurt the characters may have caused to our mains, so we'll all have different reactions to them.

I swear liking a morally ambiguous/grey character says absolutely nothing about you, but making excuses for them, antagonising people who might dislike them (for good reasons) or acting like suddenly triggers don't exist for people, does say something about you. One of my favourite characters is literally the worst person ever, an actual bigot, but i won't ever write essays about why people are not allowed to dislike him actually because he's my babygirl.. i very much understand why people would.

All of this to say, everyone will have different opinions about Tommy. Some might love him, some will be completely neutral or at worst slightly uncomfortable/bothered by him, and some will straight up hate him, and all of these are fine. Live and let live, love whoever you want to love, and hate whoever you want to hate, but please stop trying to dictate how others should feel, i'm begging. And this really does go both ways.

[johndonneswife]

someone really should be talking about how difficult it is to plan a wedding - a gay wedding - when both of your families fucking suck

[steelycunt]

FINAL MIDBLOCK ESSAY DONE!! I AM FREE!!

[cosmicrhetoric]

im undecided on how i feel about berserk cause on one hand some of it really hit hard and i like the main Question of god and fate etc. that the series is about but on the other hand man idk 😬. i do think the funniest possible outcome of me trying to read this is actually just playing dark souls instead

[elytrafemme]

every single fictional character i like should split and have mood swings like me. "ohhhhh but it's not canotical" "ohh they have good control over their emotions and stable views on the world" i don't fucking care. i see cq in his fake desert i see klavier's control dialogue i see dahlia and her serial murders and komaeda and the gun literally fuck with me right now. we need to stop being cowards about our fictional character headcanons i think everyone should kill people always because i can't

[rosicheeks]

i do not know if i ever sent this to you. i have posted it. i hope you like it Princess.

[catastrxblues]

good morning it is now 4 am and i have just finished watching atonement good night