#getting tired of feeling left out and it being my own fault

[grey-tones]

I think I really need to get on antidepressants again

[draco-renn]

Good thing I'm not.

So it's probably bad that I still wish for it anyway, right?

[catgirlinfluencer]

Im SO SICK OF THIS HOUSEEEE I WANT TO GET OUTTTT PLEASE GOD PLEASE😭😭

[madamechrissy]

ParrotKuna - a rare breed of demon bird!?!?

Pairings- Parrot Sukuna x F!reader (I can't with this shit LMAO)

Warnings- COMPLETE crack, mean backshots, Kuna has feathers, lots of cussing, degrading, Sukuna is a little shit starter, don't you dare call him a parakeet! Reader being a lil hoe tbh, fingering, creampie, and just shame all around <3

this is my turn for the Sukuna reincarnated into random animals <3 This is @yenayaps and @indiewritesxoxo fault so BLAME THEM!!!

You're kissing your date as you stumble into your apartment in the dark, he's gripping your ass and moaning as your purse falls, and you kick the door shut, only for your annoying ass parrot to start squawking and squawking. He's like some fucking demon with his red ass eyes, you swear!

Your date pulls back, blinking in confusion as your parrot 'Kuna' (it's what he always squawks, so that's his name) starts ramming into his big ass cage over and over. "Just ignore him, he doesn't like people," you drag his mouth back on yours, trying to tune out the squawks, louder and louder.

He always freaks out any time you have a guy over, fuck he's busted out of the cage and scared them before, it's so embarrassing, having been left with this damn bird when you got this place! At first you felt so bad the owners left him, but with the amount he eats and how annoying and mean he is, you get it.

He always bit the fuck out of you and anyone, and he requires the most fancy fucking treats, the pickiest damn bird. Sure, he was a big beautiful parrot, but you were about to get rid of him. He's gotta be worth more than your car!

You're focusing as he starts kissing down your neck, slipping his hands between your thighs, you see the glowing red eyes and turn away, like the damn thing was peeping, sqwaking even louder, that's when the annoying thing starts saying other men's names.

Satoru Satoru Satoru

"Who's Satoru?" you scoff, shaking your head now.

"Just a friend, mmm, more!" He's running his thumb over your clit, your panties dripping wet, it's been months since your break up with Gojo.

Suguru Suguru Suguru

"Who is that?" He's pulling off again, frustrating you as you now walk up to your parrot, scowling. He starts banging his head on the pretty cage, you've went through five with him, and you're about to be broke if he doesn't fucking stop.

"Shut it, now Kuna!" You earn a snarl from the pretty pink and red parrot, some rare fucking rainforest bird or something - he's waving he wings and chanting their names again.

"Are they like... boyfriends or..."

Friends with Benefits!

"Shut up!?"

Nanami Nanami Nanami!

"No, no, no!" You just maybe fucked them? A few times, but you don't need him to snitch on you! You take off your top then, earning your date moaning at the sight, your pretty breasts swaying just a bit, and that's when Kuna loses it.

He's tired of watching you fuck men, when he knows he can do it way better, so he's busted out of the cage again, using his beak to pick his own lock now, as you scream out. He flies at the guy now, flapping his wings and attacking him. You gasp then, you've never seen him so aggressive, pecking the poor guy over and over!

Out Out Out

"Your bird is possessed!" He snatches up his shirt and runs out the door now, you're so mad and embarrassed, glaring at the parrot, who's flying in a circle, while you hold your tits and shut the door.

"I'm selling you, fuck this! Ah!" Suddenly, you feel it, sharp nails digging into your breasts as you look down to see hands, big fucking hands, covered in little red feathers, sharp black ones cutting your skin. "huh!?"

"Tired of hearing you fake orgasms," comes the gruff voice behind you now, you look up to see the same red eyes that have been glaring at you, he drags you against a hard body. "Time I showed you how to really cum, brat."

"Brat!? Excuse me who the fuck... what the... are you licking me!?" He's chuckling now, as his tongue laps a stripe up your neck, before spinning you and pressing you against your door. He towers the fuck over you, huge and muscled, completely fucking naked then, his face half covered in long pretty feathers, and sharp teeth in a grin.

"Hear you playing with yourself all night, I'm tired of it," he huffs, you feel you have hit your fucking head- maybe the bird knocked you over!? He's lifted you, pressing you against his chiseled body, and you feel just how big he is.

"Where is Kuna at!" He's chuckling some more, as his feathered hands grip your chin.

"I'm Kuna, fuck you're soaked, that from me, or that fucking loser, huh?" He's aggressive then, demanding as he picks you up, you panic, while he's passing his birdcage, kicking it over with a loud clatter. You glare at him.

"You're so ungrateful, that was a thousand fucking dollars!"

"I'll fly around the house from now on," he throws you unceremoniously off the bed, you're scooching up it, when he yanks down your panties, he brings them to his face and moans.

"You're the one stealing them."

"They're comfy to sleep on, now bend over," you don't listen, so he flips you, groaning as he sees your pussy glistening for him, he's seen it plenty of times when you fuck your boy toys, but now he gets a good look at it. "Fuck, can't wait to finally show you what some good dick is, slutty fuckin' brat."

"Excuse me!? You're a parrot- ah!" Sukuna chokes you with one hand then, as the other whips out his huge cock, you gasp as you look back at him and see it, thick and veiny and leaking precum.

"Ya like it, huh brat? Want me to split your pussy in half, don't ya?" You hardly form a word, as he tugs at your hair, yanking it and slipping in two long fingers, moaning as he feels you pulse around him. "Say it, you want me to split you in half."

"N-no! I don't, you weird ass parakeet- oh fuck," he's yanked his fingers out now, sucking your juices off them and groaning, before smacking the fuck out of your ass. "Ow shit!"

"I'm a special rainforest parrot that's extinct, you should go to jail for having me, f-fuck your cunt... so tight..." he's sinking in now, stretching you out with his tip meanly bullying in your walls, you scream out at it, head falling back. "Can you even take me?"

"Y-you're a little... finch... hah!" You're grinning against the pillows as he smacks you harder, sinking his whole cock inside you now, you're stuffed so full you're gasping, gripping the sheets under you.

"Not a fucking finch, dumb little fucking slut," he's fucking harder now, as he grips your hips bruisingly, feeling just how good you are, no wonder those boys cum fast, but he's Sukuna. "Take it back, m'not a finch!"

"Mnh!" You're getting fucked harder now, mean thrusts bruising your cervix, gushing slick wetness down his cock and making a fucking mess as your- former parrot? - fucks you harder and harder, the sounds filthy as they fill your apartment.

"Take it back, hah - I'll let you cum, huh?" You whine at that, his feathered hands slipping up your ass, gripping it and spreading them to fuck you meaner. You're already crying out and gasping at how good he feels, balls slapping your clit, while his cock is burning your skin from the delicious stretch.

Are you really fucking some Parrot fucking hybrid!? Have you been reading too much smut on Tumblr???

"Kuna!"

He moans then, pausing, before yanking your hair, bringing you up to his knees and pressing a hand on your tummy, feeling his cock bulge it as he shoves you down harder. "Take it back, say it, I'm not a finch!"

"N-not a finch! Mnh, Kuunnaa please!" He's moaning now, fingers finding your clit and roughly rubbing. "There, there!"

"M'not a... f-fucking parakeet..." he's desperate now, almost whimpering before he gathers himself, biting your neck with sharp ass teeth and sinking them in.

"N-not a parakeet!"

"R-rare, fucking extinct..."

"Extinct... rare fucking... your cock ohmygod!" You're done then, uncaring of just how the fuck you got here, as Sukuna rails your cunt so good you're cumming all over his thighs, soaking all the random little feathers on them, and he's biting you again, pushing your orgasm further. "Kuna!"

"Only g-gonna fuck me, n-no more... Satoru, Suguru, Nanami-"

"S-sorry!"

"Slutty brat," he's huffing now, claiming you his as he pushes in so deep, you're squirting down his huge cock, gasping out then. "Gonna fill you up."

"N-no, can't cum in me!? What if I... have a fucking- ah!"

"Fuck that, gonna fill you up, beg for it." You're shaking your head, earning his fingers slapping the front of your cunt with a loud slap, stinging as you whine. "Only me, and no more cage, hah I'm gonna... take your bed."

"Wh-whatever, ngh!" You're done then, letting him fuck you until you scream out, shaking all around him, as your... pet? ... busts his hot load inside you, you'd panic about that later- praying you don't have baby fucking birds!

Sukuna is thorough after he cums inside your cunt, he makes sure to clean it up with his sharp tongue, and then he makes sure you two take a bath. It's honestly a little cute how he shakes out his feathers, but when you point it out, you get bent over the sink and fucked again.

Your date tries to come back over- commendable, but when Sukuna answers the door he runs away, so you suppose you're stuck with this fucking demon now. The back shots do help though! <3

YEP

Perm tags LMAO @alt--er--love @nanasukii28 @cuntphoric @loafteaw @n1vi @miizuzu @beachaddict48 @honeybunnnnie @re-tired-succubus @gojosukuna2268 @waterfal-ling @1brii @wise-fangirl @moncher-ire @orikixx @uhnosav @baepsays @designerpvssy @orixxxana @airandyeah @nina-from-317 @evelynxxo @naammiii @soyokosuguru @espresso1patronum @tomboy-disaster @iam-souless @lanii-i @cristy-101 @doeeyestoji @cvixmei @mutsu422 @ivyvenus333 @g00seg1rl @suki91 @satoblue @fairygardenprincesss @theonlyjuggernaut @huntyhuntycunty @lovelockdownff @ibreathesmut @s777athv @twinklywinkly @akiii143 @squeezyvalkyrie @cookielovesbook-akie

[babyleostuff]

𝐩𝐚𝐫𝐭𝐧𝐞𝐫 𝐩𝐫𝐢𝐯𝐢𝐥𝐞𝐠𝐞

𝜗𝜚 𝐓𝐇𝐄𝐌𝐄: fluff, established relationship 𝜗𝜚 𝐏𝐀𝐈𝐑𝐈𝐍𝐆: idol!hoshi x fem!reader 𝜗𝜚 𝐖𝐎𝐑𝐃𝐂𝐎𝐔𝐍𝐓: 565

⦗💌 ⦘ it's no secret that the kwon siblings love to tease each other. but what happens when you come into play?

“stop touching my food!” soonyoung whined, as his sister quickly stole another piece of meat from his plate, giggling quietly. that had to be the third time she did that in the last five minutes, and hoshi was having none of that. “told you you shouldn’t have ordered that salad,” he muttered, looking at the last pieces of his favourite food on the nearly empty plate. 

“children, could you stop fighting for once and let us eat in peace?” his father chimed in. “we can’t take you out anywhere.” 

you, on the other hand, were too focused on your own food to notice the bickering that was happening right next to you. your day had been long and tiring, and this had to be your first meal of the day, so no one was really surprised that you were kind of in your own world at the moment. besides, at this point you were so used to the kwon siblings teasing each other that you stopped paying much attention to it. 

“it’s not my fault he’s being a chil- hey! why does she get to steal your food?” soonyoung’s sister asked indignantly, pointing her finger at you. “why are you not yelling at her, huh?” 

you quickly stopped in your tracks with your fork between yours and hoshi's plate with the last piece of his meat on it, and you could feel everyone's eyes on you without having to look up. “huh? what’s going on?” you asked, confused. sharing food in your relationship was normal, to be honest - you never fully ate whatever you ordered, you always shared it between each other, so why did you feel like you just committed a crime? 

“maybe because she’s my girlfriend, you moron,” soonyoung snickered, and moved his arm from the back of your chair to lay his hand on your thigh. “eat up, baby. don’t worry about her,” he said, and pecked your temple. 

his sister laughed bitterly, and set her fork down, clearly annoyed. “don’t worry about her? remember who’s the oldest here, kwon soonyoung.” 

your eyes wandered between the two with amusement, as you munched on the meat you just stole from soonyoung. it must have looked really funny from the perspective of the people sitting at the nearby tables - two adults shouting insults at each other like five-year-olds, but for you (less for their parents) this  was pure entertainment. 

your boyfriend and his sister were the epitome of a brother- sister dynamic. 

“oh my god, why are you so surprised i’m letting my literal girlfriend have my food?” he probably didn’t notice how his grip on you slightly tightened on the word “girlfriend”, but you couldn’t hide the small smile as he did that. it was cute how his body was unconsciously paying attention to you without him even knowing. “stop being a pain in the ass, and keep eating that grass or whatever that is.” 

“did you just rhyme ass with gra-?” 

“okay, you know what? you,” soonyoung’s mom pointed her fork at her daughter, “stop stealing his food. and you,” now she turned her head to her son, “have nothing left on that plate so leave, or keep your mouth zipped.” 

“but mom, it wasn’t me who started this!” 

yeah, the kwon family was a funny bunch, and you thanked your luckiest stars you could be a part of this beautiful mess.

taglist (if you want to be added, check my masterlist): @jeonghansshitester @weird-bookworm @sea-moon-star @hanniehaee @wonwooz1 @byprettymar @edgaralienpoe @staranghae @itza-meee @eightlightstar @immabecreepin @whatsgyud @hyneyedfiz @honestlydopetree @vicehectic @dkswife @uniq-tastic @marisblogg @aaniag @daegutowns @carlesscat-thinklogic23 @embrace-themagic @ohmyhuenings @nidda13 @hrts4hanniehae @k-drama-adict @isabellah29 @f4iryjjosh @bangantokchy @mrswonwooo @bangtancultsposts @lllucere @athanasiasakura @onlyyjeonghan @haecien @caramyisabitchforsvtandbts @hannahhbahng @valgracia @ohmygodwhyareallusernamestaken @mirxzii @hhusbuds @wonranghaeee @rosiesauriostuff @gyuguys @tomodachiii @veryfabday @lilmochiandsuga @asasilentreader @mrsnervous @bewoyewo @sharonxdevi @wondipity @gyuguys @raginghellfire @treehouse-mouse @waldau @wonootnoot @hellodefthings @dokyeomkyeom @sourkimchi @bbysnw @hoichi02 @aaa-sia @haneulparadx @minvrsev @zozojella @wonootnoot @kimingyuslover @wntrei @honglynights @jihoonsbbygirl@uhdrienne @bloodcanbehot  @iamawkwardandshy@icyminghao@heeseungthel0ml@goyangiiwonu@bath1lda@ruurooozz@ny0sang@luuxian

[noosayog]

ushiwaka and his daughter 

–

Sundays are your husband’s dedicated rest days. So on Sundays, he stretches, rolls out his muscles, and does the occasional core circuit. After the birth of your daughter, this doesn’t change much, with just the slightest adjustment. 

It came when she discovered the rowdier half of the Olympics team engaging in a push-up contest. Then, an innocent question, “Daddy, can’t you do those?” 

You resist teasing him when you see the faintest flare of his nostrils, before he props her onto his back and gets down to rep twenty of them, unnecessarily sprinkling in a clapping rep every other push up. 

It’s a familiar sound now, the tinkling ring of your daughter’s giggles, often fizzling into full on belly laughter, as she drapes her small body onto Wakatoshi’s back as he does push-ups on his one rest day now. Between the three of you, it’s a secret you plan to keep from Iwaizumi. 

–

Toddlers are clumsy. This came unexpected to Wakatoshi but he adapted – always equipped with a first aid kit in the car, the random napkins in every single pair of pants he owns, an extra pair of socks anywhere within reach. 

The spilling, tripping, and whining does get tiring sometimes, but if he had limbs that stubby, he’d be doing the same, he reasons. 

It’s a mindless routine now, when he hears her zoom past him in the hallways of your warm home: a gentle but firm reminder, “don’t run too fast.” 

And inevitably, she will trip on air, ram her head into a table corner, snag her sweater into a door handle – she likes to change it up. 

And inevitably, he will crouch down, face to crying face, and pick her up, two strong arms under her armpits. 

The speed with which he hoists her up always startles her enough to stop the waterworks, but even if he didn’t propel her to his towering 192 centimeters, the gentleness with which he nestles her into the crook of his shoulder would be enough to quell her tantrum soon enough. 

–

Wakatoshi has picked up the habit of humming anytime he’s in her vicinity. He used to sing, but well… let’s just say a man can’t be good at everything. 

Your endless teasing didn’t stop him but you once made a comment about your daughter picking up his horrid sense of music and that really made him rethink singing to her. You felt badly about it, but he continued to hum around her and this seemed to please her all the same. 

“Daddy’s not a very good singer, but he’s a very good hummer,” she nods solemnly. 

And Wakatoshi flashes a smug grin at you, like he’s won, like he’s eating this up. 

You don’t have the heart to tell him that that is not the compliment he thinks it is. 

–

It’s preschool when your daughter is first exposed to the concept of socializing. There’s a sadness that washes over you when she wants to start wearing less mismatched colors and patterns, and the more the same sneakers that every third classmate seems to own. Though the munchkins in matching outfits are adorable in their own way, it feels too early for her to start wanting to fit in. 

You worry that she may feel similarly about being left-handed. You know how Wakatoshi feels about his left-handedness and how his father fought for him to keep a part of him that makes him unique. 

It comes up in conversation one evening, as she talks about bumping elbows at the coloring table. 

“They always make fun of me for bumping into them, but it’s not like that’s my fault.” 

You glance worriedly at your husband. 

“But I just bump back a little harder,” she giggles, covering a hand over her mouth conspiratorially. “I like using this hand because it makes me just like Daddy.” 

Wakatoshi moves from his seat at your side to hers, to wrap her up in a big bear hug. You’ll keep it a secret that you see his eyes get misty.

[oneofstarkskids]

redemption

THUNDERBOLTS* END CREDITS SPOILERS:

genre; angst with a splash of fluff

summary: bucky knows that even when he feels like there's no one he can rely on, nobody who's willing to stay, you'll be right there beside him.

"it went poorly," bucky tells yelena about his call to sam. part of bucky wanted to be angry with sam.

how could he sit there, knowing this was what bucky's always wanted- purpose, redemption- and try to take it away from him?

at the same time, bucky felt almost guilty. like it was his own fault. he should've done something. said something. told everyone it was another one of valentina's scams.

but he couldn't. not when there were so many people cheering and chanting for him. they weren't calling him the winter soldier. a monster. not a criminal, but an avenger.

a true hero.

he went home to you, heart feeling heavy.

"hey sweetheart," you greeted him at the door, wrapping your arms around his neck.

you ran your hands through his blown out curls, brushing them out of his pretty face. you noticed the tired look in his eyes. "everything okay?"

he sighed before pulling you into him, caging you against him in a crushing embrace.

you didn't push the matter. you just let him hold you like that for as long as he needed, and eventually he sat down and confided in you.

"sam called," he started, but paused. you smiled a bit at the mention of your friend. he'd been there countless times for both you and bucky.

bucky had gone to visit him about a year ago, but it had been awhile since you had talked to him without having to dial his number.

"how is he?" you asked.

"he's suing me," he said flatly. you furrowed your brows and shook your head, trying to wrap your mind around it. "well, not just me, the new avengers. for copyright."

it suddenly made sense.

"oh, bucky," you sat down next to him, interlocking his metal fingers with your flesh ones.

he kept his gaze on the floor, "he was pissed. and maybe he has every right to be."

you didn't say anything. what could you say?

you could see it from sam's point of view. he was an avenger. and he'd lost so many of his teammates.

bucky had even told you that sam was planning to rebuild the avengers a while back. you were so sure that he would've asked bucky to join.

but it looks like he never got the chance.

and bucky. your bucky. this meant so much to him. it's not like he went out searching for it. this team, these lonely, messed up people, just happened to fall right in his lap.

they were just like him. people who'd fucked up beyond redemption.

but here they were, getting the clean slate each of them had only ever dreamt of.

he was supposed to throw that all away?

he rested his forehead on your shoulder, "i don't know what to do. you know, after steve..." you waited for him to finish, knowing it was a rough topic.

"after steve left, i thought i would never have that kind of bond with anyone else," he whispered.

"besides you, of course," he looked up at you with a lopsided grin.

you smiled back, softly.

"but then sam and i...we really started to understand each other. we were forced to work together, and despite him being an annoying pain in my ass... he's filled the emptiness that steve left behind." his face contorts with pain.

you took his face into your hands, thumbs brushing across his cheeks.

"what if he never forgives me?" he asks the question that leaves the room thick with the loss and pain he's lived with his entire life.

you shook your head once more, "buck, don't say that. he's sam. he's pissed off, probably hurting, but he loves you."

"a brief argument over the phone is never going to change that. you two will work this out," you said confidently. it helped that you truly believed the words coming out of your mouth.

there were some bumps in the road of bucky and sam's relationship, but ultimately, they were the captain and his sergeant. inseparable.

bucky was in awe of you. your unwavering faith in him. your never-ending love and support. his blue eyes shined with affection.

"i'm glad that it's you by my side, doll," he whispered. "even if nobody else is."

you pressed your forehead against his and frowned, "which they are."

he couldn't help but chuckle at how adamant you were.

"c'mere," he lifted your chin slightly and kissed you tenderly, his love for you evident in the way his lips lingered against your own.

[salty-autistic-writer]

Buck has something to say. (Or: an alternative take on that kitchen scene)

“I think you should leave.”

The words cut into the cold, tense air in the kitchen like a knife.

They take Buck's breath away for a stunned, heart-stuttering moment. Did that just come out of his mouth?

Eddie finally looks at him, finally sees him. “What?” He asks, baffled.

“I want you to leave,” Buck repeats. And yes. He does. He’s tired of this. Tired in general. Enough.

Eddie blinks, his lips slightly parted. He exhales a disbelieving scoff, throwing his hands in the air. “Really? We are doing this now? Now, when we are both grieving? Seriously, Buck …”

“How dare you?” Buck hisses, curling a hand into a fist. “How dare you suggest I didn’t do what I could. That I didn’t do enough to, to save Bobby?”

“Buck,” Eddie starts.

No.

Buck raises his hand. “Now you listen. You listen to me. I watched him die, Eddie. I watched Bobby die. I saw death on his face, in his eyes. I was there. And I was alone. Bobby knew he was going to die, and he sent me away. He … He said I’m going to be fine. But I’m not. I’m not fine. And that’s okay. Because I just lost one of the most important people in my life. Bobby was the father I never had.”

Eddie sneers. “Bobby was your Captain. Our Captain. We all lost him! You don’t get to claim him! We all have to live without him, move on with our lives. But you don’t see any of us behaving like a child throwing a tantrum!”

Buck crosses his arms over his chest, his blood rushing in his ears. “I’m not a child, Eddie. I’m an adult, and I have enough of you telling me how I’m supposed to feel. These last few days, I’ve been thinking about the 118 all the time. About how to fix everything. Because everything feels so cold without Bobby. Everything feels broken.” 

He stops, swallowing heavily. There are so many emotions bubbling up inside of him. And now he can’t stop. He has to let it out.

“You are my best friend, Eddie. I thought friends are supposed to be there for each other. I thought a friend would be able to offer some kind of comfort. But I guess you’ve been too busy with your own grief. Look. I’m sorry you had to wake up at night and hear about this over the phone. But that’s not my fault. And it’s not my fault that you had to tell Chris either. It’s also not my fault that Bobby died. I didn’t want any of this to happen. And every day, I wish I could go back in time to change things.

I’m not okay. And you should know. But here you are, telling me I might not have done enough. You of all people should know. You should know what Bobby meant to me. But it starts to feel like you don’t know me at all. I’m not that great at communicating my feelings or, or my needs. But I’m working on it. And what I can tell you right now is that I’m tired of this, Eddie. I’m tired of being blamed and being told I’m making everything about me, when actually, my stomach, chest, and head hurt every day when I think about everyone else and how sad they are. That includes you, by the way. But I guess, in some way, I lost you too. Now, leave. I want you to leave.”

Buck stops, breathing heavily. It’s been a long time since he talked so much. Maybe he never did. But he needed this. Needed to get this weight off his heart.

The rage inside him is loud. But the sad and aching part of him hopes that Eddie will say No, I won’t leave. Hopes that he will stay. That he will say, it’s okay, we can solve this problem. We can talk. We can comfort each other. We can work on fixing this.

He looks at Eddie, and inside, he’s yelling. Say something.

But Eddie only stares at him, his brows furrowed and his jaw tense. Finally, he nods curtly and says, “Alright. Alright, Buck.”

He storms out of the kitchen. Buck can hear him pack his bag. His stomach sinks. So. That��s it then. There’s nothing left to fight for, it seems.

His heart pounding, Buck waits in the silence until he hears Eddie walk out and slam the door.

He winces, wrapping his arms around himself, breathing heavily. He feels so cold. And alone. Tears are burning in his eyes.

God. Everything is so broken.

Buck wipes at his eyes with the back of his head, sniffs, and reaches for his phone with a shaky hand. He hesitates. Maybe this is a bad idea. Maybe it’s selfish. But … he needs. He needs a little bit of warmth.

Hey. Can you come over? Only if you have time. I really need to talk to someone.

He sends the text after staring at it for a few long minutes and tries to ignore the voice in his head calling him pathetic.

* Buck opens the door and Tommy smiles at him, “Hey - What’s going on?”

Too much.

Almost instantly, the smile fades and Tommy’s brows furrow as his eyes flicker over Buck’s face, down to where he’s nervously fidgeting with his fingers.

“Evan. Are you okay?”

No.

Buck just shakes his head. He talked so much. Now, he doesn’t have any more words left. He’s empty. 

Ashamed, he lowers his head. Avoids prying eyes. He shouldn’t be like this. He’s an adult. Maybe Eddie is right. Maybe he is nothing but a child throwing a tantrum, making everything about himself …

“Come here,” Tommy says softly.

Buck looks up, seeing Tommy opening his arms. He exhales shakily and falls forward into the embrace. Sinks into it. Into the warmth. He closes his eyes and allows himself to feel safe for a moment.

Everything is broken, but this feels like a shell he can hide in. At least for the moment.

(AO3 Link)

[starkeyisthelastname]

okay y’all, we are jumping into this. pornstar!rafe makes a big decision. ⭐️ (thank you to my bae @oceandriveab for her request and being so patient! 💖 )

He had quite literally fucked you to sleep after storming off set all because he couldn’t get his dick up because he had you on his mind. He knew the decision he had to make and that was one he never thought he would ever do and that quit filming professionally. Even if he hadn’t opened up to you much at all, and he was terrified of confessing his feelings to someone he only had ever fucked, he couldn’t continue on with this career because his addiction was now you.

You should have known better than to answer the door because as you woke up the next morning with a sore body, an empty bed and no sign or explanation from Rafe. You should have expected this and him telling you he couldn’t work anymore because he couldn’t get you off his mind was a bunch of bullshit. He told you from the start he loved pussy too much to ever quit, and you should have stopped falling for him right there. You may been acting on high emotions, but you picked up your phone and began texting him.

Rafe’s phone had been on silent when he had met with his agent and manager. He flat out told them that he was done and they laughed, an amused look on both of their faces. The ‘pussy slayer’ was retiring at 30? There was no way. Everyone knew how much he loved pussy, I mean.. what else was he gonna do? Even if he hadn’t told you much about him, or knew much about you, he knew what he felt for you was enough for him to find a new purpose in life. He knew he said he needed to take baby steps because this was all new to him, but he was tired of the jealousy he constantly felt, the way he couldn’t get you off his fucking mind. He had to show you how he felt and then would let everything fall into place after, it could have been a reckless decision but he didn’t care.

‘I don’t expect a relationship with you, but when you come to my house and tell me that I’m yours just to dip off without any explanation is bullshit Rafe. I can’t do these games with you anymore. You wanna focus on work so bad. Fine. So will I.’

You had blocked him after you sent it, whether it was right or wrong. You didn’t want to, in fact it hurt you to think about Rafe not being in your life. What hurt worse though was how this man had ruined you to the point he never left your mind, that every time he shot a scene with someone else you were filled with nothing but jealousy, and that you couldn’t continue on knowing he would constantly feed you this shit so that he could get a nut in a few times a week. Your insecurities were becoming overshadowed by fear, because you had no idea what Rafe had just done.

You had a feeling you knew who it was by the heavy knocks on your door. You didn’t want to answer and you wanted to tell him to go away. Your own body betrayed you as you began walking over to the door to answer it. He better have a damn good reason on why he was here after his little Houdini act he pulled.

“You wanna block me now?” Rafe asked, stepping through the door without another thought.

You shrugged, arms crossed over your chest as you challenged him. “Why does it matter Rafe? I should have never got my feelings involved with someone who only cares about fucking on camera and getting money from it.” You told him, avoiding his gaze. Maybe it was your own fault because he didn’t know exactly how you felt, but he certainly didn’t make it easy for you. When he whispered sweet shit in your ear it made you feel like you could tell him that you were falling for him. It would then reel back to you being afraid of rejection because he would disappear, or talk about how he loved his career too much to ever quit.

“Do you even know what I was doing? I was firing my agent and my manager because I told them I was done fucking doing porn.” He said, causing your eyes to meet his.

You didn’t believe him. There was no way the man who was obsessed with sex and couldn’t even give you a real reason on why he became a pornstar in the first place had really quit. You laughed, did he really think you were that dumb? “You are lying. You’ve hit an all time low if you think that you can tell me something like that just to fuck me again.” You said with a scoff.

Rafe did a lot of punk shit to try and hide his feelings from you, but this wasn’t something he would joke about. He laughed, shaking his head. “You think I’m lying? I fuckin quit because I love you!” He said, blurting it out before he stopped himself. It was like once he said it, he couldn’t stop the rest from flowing as he continued on. “You don’t understand how hard this is for me! This career is the only thing I have had that has made me feel worth something because I fucked everything else up in my life. This is what made me feel invincible and that I could be somebody. I don’t have anyone else because everyone pushed me away due to my choices. Then I meet you and I don’t even fucking know you, but I feel this insane connection that absolutely terrifies me. It scares me the way I feel about you, and that I really should be taking baby steps. I.. I just can’t though. I don’t want to fuck this up like I did everything else, but… I am fucking in love with you and fucking random girls on camera just to get money isn’t worth losing you over.” He told you.

This was the first time Rafe had ever truly been honest with you and you could read it all over his face. You swallowed the lump in your throat as he stepped closer, taking you by the hands as he pulled you closer. “Let me show you.” He whispered in the softest voice you had ever heard him use. You didn’t know what he meant by that, but there was no way you were turning him away.

No matter how much you loved the brutal sex the two of you shared and we’re sure there was more of that to come, this was an entirely new feeling you both were experiencing. He was being gentle with you for the first time, pouring every ounce of confusing emotions and feelings he had into you. He had you in a deep missionary position, his toned hips grinding into yours as he buried his head in your neck. “You are so goddamn beautiful.” He whispered in a breathy groan.

His cock somehow felt 10 times bigger when he went slow and it was throwing you off at how good this fucking felt. Tears streamed down your face much like the first time he had ever fucked you, but for an entirely different reason. You overwhelmed by love, clinging onto him life a lifeline as you were afraid to let him go. He had ruined you for any other man and right now you were perfectly fine with that. “Rafe… you feel so fucking good..” You whimpered, your eyes rolling back at a little as his tip kept brushing over your g-spot.

Rafe groaned into your smooth skin, his lips traveling across your collarbone and across your jaw line until he met your eyes. He knew he must have really been in love with you because he had never made love and didn’t know he was capable of such a thing. He knew his nasty side was inevitable but he really was determined to show you that he was serious about this.

“Yeah baby, say my fuckin name. That’s yours to say. All yours… my sweet angel.” His words firm but genuine as his lips ghosted over yours. The way you made him feel was better than any drug or any career, and he knew no matter how scary this was for him, you were his girl without a doubt.

The tears flowed even more as he said that, your eyes falling into his ocean ones as his cock explored every inch of you. Your lower tummy fluttered and head spun as you felt an insane orgasm approaching. “Rafe… you’re gonna make me cum. Please don’t stop.. please.” You nearly begged him, manicured nails digging into the skin of his back.

Rafe had always prided himself for being able to go many rounds before cumming. He was so overwhelmed with love, that he knew he was wasn’t going to last long. “I’m not baby, I fuckin got you. Yeah? Cum all over my cock.” He whispered against your lips before pulling you in for a deep kiss.

You couldn’t help but sob at his words, trying your best to focus on the kiss as your orgasm started to take over. You screamed his name, not caring who heard, as this moment was way too important. You shuddered against him, wrapping your legs around his waist to trap him in as his thrusts started to get sloppy. He didn’t know what you had done to him, but he found himself going back to whisper in your ear as he started slowly coming undone. “I’m gonna fuckin fill you up baby, this is all for you..” He breathed out, voice rugged as his nuts tightened and eyes rolled back at your cunt still squeezing him in.

Rafe’s groans were sweet music to your ears as his seed warmed your insides, this time followed by a gentle raspy voice whispering against your skin. “I love you..” He told you, the butterflies hitting your belly and your face breaking out into a beautiful smile.

“I love you.” You whispered back.

Rafe hadn’t said that to someone or heard it back since before he had lost his family. This was the first girl he had ever felt this way about and while the two of you may have been jumping into something that was unclear and had a lot of questions that needed to be answered, he knew this was all worth it.

[haveihitanerve]

Dick slumped into the batcave, rubbing a tired hand over his face. Being Batman was exhausting.

As always, Bruce was there to greet him, legs curled up behind him as he hovered anxiously. “Everything alright?" He murmured, and his hands moved to cup Dick’s face, worried. Dick brushed past him with a mumbled fine, ducking under his father’s hands because he didn't want to feel them not make contact.

He dragged himself to the Batdesk, slipping the mask from his head, and got to work typing in the nights report. Bruce moved to his side, taking a gentle seat on the table, and watched him.

The sound of screeching reached their ears, and Dick tried his best not to wince. “Oh fuck you! You little brat!” Tim yelled, and Dick didn't want to know what had started the argument. Their voices increased in volume as they entered the cave, Tim throwing off his suit with simple familiarity, tossing it over to the nearby couch.

“I had it handled!” Damian screeched, and Dick didn't need to turn his head to know the younger Wayne had thrown himself at his older brother, probably biting.

“OW! You fuck-” The distinct sound of a slap followed, the stinging echoes ringing in the air for a moment before the argument continued, neither party addressing their physical wounds, far too preoccupied with their emotional ones.

“They’re going to hurt themselves.” Bruce murmured, heavy with reproach, and Dick could tell by his voice he was probing gently. Trying to get Dick to intervene. Maybe Bruce would have. If he was still here. If anyone but Dick could see him.

“They’re bonding.” Was his reply, even as Damian’s scream was loud enough to shake the house and sent the bats flying. Bruce sent him a disapproving look, such a reflection of Alfred’s, of the ones he’d made when Dick was younger, that it hurt.

“They don’t need my intervention.” Dick tossed at him, because he was tired. And angry. It wasn’t Bruce’s fault. It was always Bruce’s fault. “I’m not their father.”

The words landed right where he wanted them to. Bruce’s face shuttered, closing. Dick sighed. “Bruce-” But his father was gone, disappeared from his side. As though even Dick’s own memory couldn't force him through the confrontation. The apology. Because it hadn't happened when he’d been alive. So why should Dick get that closure now?

The young vigilante sighed, the cape draped around his shoulders suddenly so heavy, and striped out of it, draping it across the chair. “I’m going to bed.” He announced to no one and everyone, moving to the stairs.

Damian and Tim didn't even spare him a glance, locked in their own silent fight. The screams had turned into sobs, into wobbly lips, into glares across the room.

A part of Dick wondered, as it did every night, if they turned to each other with fists and tore into each other so ruthlessly emotionally so that they’d have someone else to turn their anger on. So that they wouldn't blame him for his shortcomings.

As he did every night, Dick ignored the voice, the part of his that sounded so much like Bruce, and left them alone at the bottom of the stairs. Left them to their anger and their brimming hatred and their grief.

Just as he would curl up, alone, in a bed too big for his lithe performer body, with his.

[fandoms-x-reader]

MC Faints

Requested By: @space-dragon-ace

Headcannons

Summary: The brothers (individually) react to MC who faints. Word Count: 4,146

This time of year had been the most stressful for you.

The brothers were always fighting for your attention, so you rarely had time for yourself. 

You felt like the second you got home from RAD you were being pulled left and right by one brother or another.

And while you appreciated that they wanted to hang out with you, exams were coming up and as an exchange student, there was an immense amount of pressure on you to do good.

And since you were under that pressure, you had to find time to make sure you were studying.

Which unfortunately meant cutting into your sleep schedule.

You were overworked and exhausted and the only thing that was keeping you upright was the anxiety of knowing that the exams were in the next few days.

Lucifer was a very overworked person himself. So, he had a hard time noticing when someone was struggling to keep up with their workload.

It’s not that he couldn’t pick up on the signs of your exhaustion, it’s just between student council business and keeping his brothers out of trouble, he didn’t really have time to look for those signs.

So, when you fainted in the middle of a student council meeting, he was more surprised than anything.

You had been standing there, looking just as you usually did with no noticeable signs of distress.

And then the next second you were on the ground with his brothers surrounding you.

After the initial shock, Lucifer began thinking of reasons as to why you may have fainted and that’s when all of the little signals suddenly became clear to him.

It’s as if they were bright neon signs that stated you were overtired and ready to collapse.

And Lucifer suddenly became very protective of you, telling his brothers to give you space before whisking you away to the House of Lamentation where he could properly take care of you.

Lucifer held your hand the entire time you were asleep, gently touching his other hand to your forehead occasionally to make sure you weren’t running a fever or anything like that.

When you finally woke up, Lucifer gave you a small smile, apologizing to you for not noticing the signs of your suffering earlier.

“It’s not your fault, Lucifer,” you reassured him before adding, “I just need to do a better job of managing my time.”

Lucifer planned on helping with that.

He already planned to have a long talk with his brothers about respecting your time so that you didn’t have to sacrifice your own health just to keep up with your grades.

On top of that, Lucifer invited you to his room after school much more often. 

He claimed that it was to help make sure you were staying relaxed, but in reality, he needed a break just as much as you did.

And you were the only thing that helped him relax. 

Demons didn’t get sick the same way that humans did.

That was one thing you had come to learn during your time in the Devildom.

They didn’t have a flu season and they didn’t get shots to stave off illness.

So when you started feeling sick, you didn’t think to mention it to the brothers.

After all, you were sure it would only end in a very long conversation consisting of you trying to explain your sickness while they bombarded you with a hundred questions.

You did your best to hide how awful you were really feeling, wearing a smile and doing your best to not look shaky or pale.

And it seemed to work because the brothers were as persistent as ever about spending time with you - especially Mammon.

And you loved spending time with Mammon. You thought it was adorable how he always fought for your attention.

But, today, you were hoping that he would get tired of going out and doing things and let you return to the House of Lamentation.

You would be fine even if he wanted to watch a movie with you at home. Then, if you fell asleep, you could just say you were really tired. It’s not like Mammon would be mad at you for very long anyway.

But, of course, when you were feeling very under the weather,+

Mammon decided he had a full day planned for the two of you.

From shopping to watching him do a photo shoot to trying out new restaurants - Mammon just wanted to spend the whole day together.

You did your best to keep up - to act like nothing was wrong.

But at the end of the day your ailment caught up to you and as you were standing next to Mammon at the casino, you felt incredibly lightheaded.

“I think I’m going to go sit down for a moment,” you told Mammon and he gave you a small frown.

“But, I’m about to win the jackpot!” Mammon argued and you once again smiled at him, agreeing to stay.

Moments later, Mammon did win the jackpot. He let out a victorious laugh and turned to celebrate with you only to find you collapsing into his arms.

His celebration was cut short as he was now freaking out trying to get you to wake up and gently brushing your hair out of your face as tears threatened to form in his eyes.

He rushed you back to the House of Lamentation and after Lucifer and Satan looked over you, they determined you had just fainted from being sick.

They gave Mammon some medicine to give to you when you woke up and then left.

Mammon stayed by your side the entire time and he felt a huge weight lift off his shoulders when you finally opened your eyes.

His lips were turned down into a frown as he asked, “Why didn’t you tell me you were sick?”

“I didn’t want to ruin our day together,” you replied and it only made Mammon more sad as he pulled you into a hug.

“I thought you died,” he admitted, his arms tightening around you, and you could see how affected he was by seeing you faint.

“I’m sorry, but I’m okay. It’s just a cold,” you told him and although he was satisfied with your answer, he wasn’t letting you go from his arms.

He needed to hold you there for a little while longer, just as some extra reassurance that you were okay.

Levi was absolutely determined to finish the new game that he had bought.

It was a two-player game that he specifically purchased because he thought you would enjoy playing it with him.

Which meant that you were being dragged along for the ride whether you wanted to or not.

Levi wanted to finish the game as quickly as possible so that he could be the first person to review it and in order to do so, he had you pull two all-nighters back to back.

You were exhausted and ready to call it quits, but Levi was very convincing when he wanted to be. 

He knew all of the right bribes to offer you to keep you awake and playing.

On top of that, you were genuinely happy to be spending time with Levi.

But as the alarm clock rang after the second all-nighter that happiness you were feeling was overtaken by your exhaustion. 

You let out a groan as you sat down your controller, looking at the clock in Levi’s room as if it betrayed you by signaling it was time to get ready for school.

You and Levi still hadn’t finished the game and you couldn’t help but stare off into space with dread as you realized that meant that you would be in Levi’s room again after school today trying to finish it.

And no amount of caffeine would help you survive a third all-nighter in a row.

You didn’t say anything to Levi as you left his bedroom to get ready for school. In fact, you didn’t say anything to any of the brothers all day.

You weren’t trying to be rude, you were just too tired to care.

It wasn’t until you fainted at lunch that they realized something was genuinely wrong.

They all clamored over to you as you went down in the middle of the room, the other students whispering and asking what happened.

The scene caused quite the commotion which led to Diavolo finding out quickly. 

 As you rested in the infirmary, Diavolo questioned the brothers about what could have caused you to collapse.

Lucifer turned to Levi, claiming that he had been spending the most time with you lately.

Diavolo asked Levi if he noticed you feeling unwell and Levi innocently told him you looked like you were fine during your two all-nighters together.

“Wait - did you say that they hadn’t slept in two straight days?” Diavolo questioned and all of the brothers looked at Levi incredulously. 

Levi’s words suddenly registered in his own mind as he realized that he was the reason you fainted.

He immediately started panicking as his mind tried to come up with ways to make it up to you.

And as if his guilt wasn’t punishment enough, he had to endure a multiple-hour-long lecture from Lucifer about the importance of sleep for humans. 

Levi was afraid to face you the next time you saw him. He was afraid that you would hate him for forcing you to stay awake with him.

You reassured him that you had fun playing the game with him.

“Next time, maybe just let me get a couple hours of sleep in,” you teased and a blush rushed to his cheeks as he nodded his head.

Levi was really happy that you still wanted to play games with him despite what happened and he made a promise to himself to prioritize your health over the game from now on.

Between his brothers and the busy life of being a member of the student council, you and Satan didn’t get a whole lot of free time to spend together.

So, when the opportunity did present itself where Satan was able to steal you away, the two of you liked to take advantage of it.

There was an outdoor festival happening up in the human world and Satan wanted to take you to it.

He knew that it had been a while since you visited and the festival had an overall theme that he knew you would both enjoy.

You were ecstatic when he asked you to go with him and the two of you left almost immediately after.

The festival was absolutely gorgeous and it was full of things that you and Satan could do together.

You shared the cuisines, you bought souvenirs, and you even participated in some of the side activities they offered.

And while you were enjoying your time with Satan, there was one problem - the heat.

The Devildom had no sun to shine brightly or warm the weather so you had grown accustomed to the weather there.

But in the human world, the sun was at large, beating down on you.

You hadn’t prepared for it to be so hot and were starting to feel light-headed.

Satan was usually so attentive and would recognize something was off the second that you started to not feel good.

But, he was so distracted by everything else going on that he didn’t notice.

He was like a kid in the candy shop, holding your hand as he dragged you from stall to stall.

He was talking to a vendor about a necklace they had when you felt like your head was starting to spin.

Satan turned to ask your opinion on the piece of jewelry with full intentions of buying it for you.

But, when he faced you, he saw how flushed your complexion was.

He barely had time to react before you were collapsing.

The necklace was long forgotten as Satan easily caught you in his arms.

He immediately went into doctor mode, doing his best to recall everything he had learned about humans.

His mind was racing with possible reasons as to why you could have fainted. The possibilities seemed endless.

Until he placed his hand on your forehead and noticed that you felt hot to the touch.

And it was like everything had clicked into place as he was suddenly rushing you back to the House of Lamentation.

He laid you in his bed because he figured it would be easier to take care of you there since the other brothers wouldn’t barge in.

When you woke up, it took you a moment to figure out where you were and what happened but a deep blush coated your cheeks as you began to comprehend the situation.

“I’m sorry I ruined our date,” you stated, refusing to look at Satan.

He immediately leaned forward and cupped your cheeks before tilting your head up to look into his eyes.

“You didn’t ruin our date. I still had a great time - did you?” Satan questioned and you nodded your head.

He placed a gentle kiss on your forehead before telling you, “I’m just glad you’re alright.”

You leaned into his touch and he pulled you into his arms, attempting to calm his heart rate that had been racing since your first collapsed.

As calm and composed as he remained, Satan had been so scared when you fainted and now he was going to keep you in his arms for however long it took to convince himself that you were okay.

You were heading home after school when Asmo suddenly approached you.

He had such a happy smile on his face when he saw you and you could hear the excitement in his voice.

Asmo had been invited to a special event that night and he asked if you would be his plus one.

You could see the jealous looks you were getting from miscellaneous other people as Asmo stood before you with a hopeful look.

When you agreed to go, Asmo let out a happy noise of excitement before taking your hand and leading you into town.

The two of you needed to start getting ready right away!

He wanted the two of you to have matching outfits so he took you to Majolish to get new ones.

The two of you spent a while there trying on different outfits, attempting to find matching ones that fit both your and Asmo’s styles.

And you had finally found an outfit that had a mix of both. 

There was just one problem - it had a corset. And in true corset fashion, it was quite restricting. 

Asmo was dying over the way you looked in that outfit, giving you compliment after compliment and looking so happy while doing it.

You didn’t tell him about the corset being too tight, instead agreeing to buy it.

The event would only be for a little while, so you figured it would be fine. All you had to do was last until the end of the event.

And you had managed to do just that, albeit with a bit of a struggle.

You felt like the corset was somehow getting tighter and tighter as the night went on and you were starting to feel short of breath and hot. 

Asmo could see that you weren’t feeling one hundred percent, so he suggested that the two of you head back to the House of Lamentation.

Though, he didn’t understand why you weren’t feeling well. Did you have something to drink when he wasn’t looking?

The two of you barely made it to the House of Lamentation when everything went black and you fell to the ground.

Asmo panicked immediately, shouting for Lucifer to come outside and help you as his hands shakily held your head, not knowing what to do.

When Lucifer inspected the scene in front of him, he noticed the corset and demanded Asmo take it off.

Lucifer was so sure that the article of clothing was the cause of your fainting so Asmo quickly rushed you to your bedroom and took the corset off you, staring intensely at your face as he waited for something to happen.

You woke up shortly after and Asmo let out a loud sigh of relief as he pulled you into his arms, blinking past the tears that had formed in his eyes.

He stroked your hair as you took deep breaths, the feeling of your lungs expanding fully was something that felt strangely nice.

“If the outfit was too tight, we could have gotten you something else,” Asmo told you softly.

“I’m sorry, I just wanted to look good for your event,” you replied and Asmo pulled away from the hug to cup your cheeks and look you in the eyes.

“You look perfect in everything. You didn’t have to suffer all night - I wanted you to have a good time,” Asmo replied.

“I did have a good time, Asmo,” you reassured him and he pulled you back into his arms.

“Just don’t ever do that again,” he said quietly as he tried to push the image of you fainting out of his mind.

You were running late to breakfast and the brothers had noticed that his had been a recurring thing with you lately.

The day before, you were late for breakfast because you overslept after staying up all night studying.

And then you were also late to dinner later that day after Solomon unexpectedly asked for your help with something.

And today you had sent them all a message letting them know you would be late to breakfast due to a shower mishap.

Asmo attempted to ask you to explain in further detail, but the others didn’t press the subject.

They knew that you would be a little late, but it was only a few minutes until everyone had to leave to make it to RAD on time.

Beel had been staring at your plate of food the entire time, doing his best to restrain himself. 

He knew that after missing both breakfast and dinner yesterday you would be hungry. But, if you weren’t going to eat it, he wasn’t going to let it go to waste.

After waiting a couple more minutes, Lucifer let out a small sigh before allowing Beel to eat your food.

Just then, you came bounding into the dining room with a look of shock on your face as you watched Beel gobble up your food in one bite.

“Hey, that was mine,” you said with a small pout and Beel looked like a deer in headlights as he sat your plate down.

“You were late,” Lucifer retorted before adding, “Time to go.”

You had a small frown the entire way to RAD and Beel felt guilty every time he heard your stomach rumble.

He was determined to make it up to you by getting you extra food at lunch.

But your hunger was starting to really get to you and by the second class you were starting to feel lightheaded.

You tried not to act any differently but you could feel Beel’s eyes on you during the class and it was only adding to the myriad of things you were feeling right now.

You felt overwhelmed by everything and as soon as the bell rang signally class was over, you stood up - only to fall right back down.

Beel managed to get to you just in time to catch you, but he started panicking when he saw that you were unconscious. 

He immediately lifted you off the ground and carried you to the school infirmary. 

The guilt he was feeling now was eating him alive. He knew that you had fainted because you were hungry.

If only he had a little more self-control and didn’t eat your food then maybe you wouldn’t have fainted.

When you woke up, you were immediately met with Beel’s concerned eyes.

“How are you feeling?” Beel asked you and you sat up slightly as you realized what had happened. 

“I’m fine,” you replied, though he suspected that wasn’t one hundred percent true.

You looked around the room and noticed Beel had bought a ton of snacks and drinks and laid them out on the bed next to you.

As soon as he deemed you were okay enough, he handed you snack after snack and apologized profusely for eating your food.

He would make sure you never fainted from hunger again. 

You and Belphie shared such romantic moments sometimes.

Other times, he acted like such a brat.

It seemed like one of Belphie’s favorite things to do was to mess with you. Especially when he was feeling particularly testy.

Lucifer woke him up from his nap? I guess that means you wanted to pick a fight with him too so now he’s relentlessly trying to wrestle and tickle you.

Beel decided to eat his food that morning? Well, then you don’t get to eat either. But, you don’t mind, right?

And you would always retaliate which would end up leading to a war between you.

And both of you refused to back down.

In fact, sometimes it got to the point where the other brothers avoided the two of you, afraid of being collateral damage.

You wanted something to drink in the middle of the night, so you made your way to the kitchen and grabbed your favorite from the fridge.

You poured yourself a cup and sipped it quietly, immediately regretting it as you did so.

The taste was awful and you could hear Belphie’s snickering somewhere nearby.

You swallowed the drink and glared at the entrance to the kitchen as Belphie entered, holding his sides from laughing.

Why was he only awake at the most inconvenient times?

You decided to make Belphie pay for his actions.

“Belphie - did you put something in this?” you asked him, holding a hand to your stomach as if you were about to be sick.

“You should see your face right now,” he replied, continuing to laugh.

You placed one hand on your head and started fanning yourself with your other hand.

“Okay, but you made sure it was safe for humans, right?” you asked him and Belphie paused. You were just pulling his leg, right?

You took a few strained breaths before asking him, “Is it really hot in here?”

Belphie’s expression had turned from one of amusement to one of slight panic as he watched you, trying to figure out if you were lying or not.

He was positive what he put in your drink wouldn’t harm you, but he didn’t exactly look it up to check.

Belphie’s eyes were wide and he felt like he couldn’t breathe as you collapsed to the ground.

He was panicking as flashbacks of what once happened between the two of you overwhelmed his mind.

Did he just kill you? Again?

He felt like he was starting to have a panic attack as Beel suddenly entered the kitchen.

“Belphie?” he questioned, not expecting his twin to be there. He was just trying to get his midnight snack.

“Beel - I think I…,” Belphie stated, frozen in shock.

Beel’s eyes widened as he saw your body on the ground and he immediately rushed over to you, placing his fingers on your neck to check for a pulse just like Satan had taught him.

When you could feel Beel’s shaky hands, you knew the prank might have gone a little too far and you gently grabbed his wrist and opened your eyes.

Beel and Belphie looked at you confused for a moment and then Belphie realized what happened.

He gave you the biggest death glare and you noticed the tears that had started to form in his eyes.

“Belphie-,” you began but he stormed off to sulk in the attic. You followed him, only to find the door shut. 

“Belphie, come on let me in,” you told him. You could see him lying on the bed, turned away from you.

“I opened this door once before, I’ll do it again if I really have to,” you added.

Belphie let out a sigh of frustration before getting up and opening the door.

You immediately pulled him into a hug as he did, wrapping your arms around his torso and his arms timidly wrapped around you as well.

“I’m sorry,” you told him, genuinely feeling bad for taking things so far.

“Don’t ever do that again,” he stated, hugging you tighter before pulling you over to the bed with him.

Your punishment was to spend the night with him so that you were there whenever he needed some extra reassurance that you were okay.

Despite his pranks and brattiness, Belphie really loved you and he couldn’t imagine what he would do without you.

[fizzyapplecandy]

The one with the shy bunny and the rowdy cat Part 1

Part 2 Part 3 Final

Ateez Seonghwa X Wooyoung X Reader

Owner Seonghwa X Cat hybrid Wooyoung X Bunny hybrid Reader

Genre and warnings: poly relationship (no mxm, just with the reader) hybrid, fluff, strangers to friends to lovers, angst, heavy themes, mature language, happy ending

Word count: 6.2k

You thought you had run out of options. It was pouring outside, and a couple of aggressive dog hybrids made you move from your favourite spot behind the mall. There, you managed to make yourself a little living space. Being a stray wasn't easy, and life loved to remind you from time to time. Luckily, there seemed to be a little bench in front of a small bakery. The roof did enough to cover you, so you'd be good for the night. What you didn't expect was to be confronted by another hybrid - this time a cat. You were expecting the worst, making a new friend wasn't on your mind at all.

"Are you cold bunny? I can get my owner to make you some hot chocolate?"

This will probably be a two-part imagine, maybe three if I feel like it needs it. Stay tuned for the next update!

Lots of love, and happy reading X

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Life hasn't been easy in the past couple of months. You ran away from your previous home after the owner nearly beat you unconscious. He didn't give much shit about you, so he hasn't even tried looking for you.

You suppose it was your fault. At the end of the day, he wanted a cute, shy bunny to play with, and you were the complete opposite. Although now your self confidence went down drastically, and you remained a shell of what you once were.

Five months ago you were in a shelter, having fun with your fellow hybrids, when Jisung came. He looked and smelled nice, and you instantly gravitated towards him. The workers at your shelter told him you were quite confident, and you knew how to take care of yourself. You were the tiniest one in the litter, so you had to toughen up over the years.

It didn't take long for him to change his approach towards you. The first month went smoothly, but then he became more aggressive. Pets on the head became slaps on your cheek, food had to be earned, and you could only wear the clothes he bought you. No, there weren't pretty dresses and your favourite soft jumpers. There were only tight mini skirts and revealing tops. You were hungry, cold, tired and emotionally drained. It's not like you didn't try to fight back. Truly, you did. However, the amount of force he would use soon made you cower away.

One day, about two months ago, he left for a work trip and told you to stay put. He would be back by the end of the day, and you were to wait patiently. Maybe he was careless, maybe he even wanted you to run, because he left the key to the front door beside the shoe rack. It was a bit hidden, but your keen senses managed to help you find it. You dressed in the warmest clothes you owned, and out the door you went.

People on the street took pity on you, so they often gave you food, and sometimes even a warm blanket. You wish you knew the way to the shelter, but you were a lost cause. Some nights you cried yourself to sleep, others you ran until your feet hurt because the other stray hybrids weren't as nice as you thought.

You made yourself comfortable behind a closed mall, with a makeshift bed and a slight roof over your head. It was still early fall, and you had some time to think about what you were going to do in the winter. There was no chance to survive in the cold, with you being a bunny.

Your thoughts were interrupted when three stray dog hybrids made their way in front of you and your small shelter.

"Hey rabbit! Move, now."

"I-I'm a bunny."

The biggest of them scoffed before grabbing your arm and pulling you up.

"We do not care. Move it bitch!"

He threw you to the floor just as the rain started picking up. You had no other choice but to run, and you had no clue where you were going. You could still hear them laughing at you, and your eyes filled with tears. This was going to become an everyday thing for you now. Maybe you should have just stayed by Jisung's side. That way you would have had a warm bed at least, but now was not the time to dwell on it.

You tried running faster as the rain came pouring down, but you were too distracted by your own thoughts. It seemed like the street had no end.

Just as you were about to crouch down and give up, you saw a little bench in front of what seemed to be a bakery. The lights were off, and the roof covered the bench just enough to shelter you from the rain. Exhausted, you crashed onto the seat and pulled your knees towards your chest. You were freezing at this point, your thin rain soaked sweater doing a piss poor job at keeping you warm. You made peace with your destiny for tonight, and you were about to close your eyes and huddle into yourself when you heard the door beside you open.

"Oh! Hello there! I could smell you from inside you know? Your anxiety is freaking me out!"

Your eyes went wide, ears flat against your head. There stood a man, a hybrid it seemed, with his hands on his hips and a grin on his face.

"So, what are you doing here? It's pouring out there, you should go home! My hyung would be really mad at me if I stayed in the rain like this. And where is your jacket? Does your owner not make you wear one? I swear Hwa would have a heart attack if I went out without one!"

He seemed to be energetic. It's when you noticed the black cat ears on top of his head. They blended in with his dark hair, so it took you a minute. The cat hybrid continued ranting while you sat there almost speechless.

"Do you talk? You know how to, right? I know bunnies can be afraid, but hey I'm cool! I can be your friend you know? Hwa likes it when I make friends because then I don't bother him all day long. Hey, let's be friends!"

He rushed towards you and it made you freak out. Before he could reach the bench you stood up, stumbled on your clumsy feet and landed on your ass in front of him. The cat was taken aback, and he froze when he saw your hands covering your head, your shoulders shaking from fear.

"Oh... Sorry bunny. I don't... I just wanted to sit next to you..."

He slowly crouched down to your level, balancing his elbows on his knees.

"I'm Wooyoung. I'm a black cat. Hwa says I'm usually too straightforward, and I can see it now. What's your name?"

You still held your hands above you, only letting out small sniffles. It took everything in you not to cry, but you were barely holding on.

"Okay... You don't have to tell me yet. But hey..."

He shuffled a bit closer, but you didn't have it in you to move again.

"Are you cold bunny? I can get my owner to make you some hot chocolate?"

Hot chocolate? You haven't had anything sweet in a while. The offer was tempting, but you were still afraid. What if he was just saying that to lure you in?

Wooyoung cleared his throat.

"Or maybe... I can get you one of his carrot cakes? How's that?"

Oh my... A carrot cake? Why did he have to offer that? The thought of a carrot made your mouth go dry. The last time you had one was months ago, and you loved carrots.

You slowly lowered your hands and peaked at him. He was still crouched down, and he didn't attempt to move closer. You had to give it to him, he was persistent. Looking better at his face, he was handsome as well. The little mole under his eye was cute. He smiled when he noticed you were checking him out, and he slowly shuffled forward.

"Hmm... Carrot cake it is. Wait here, don't go, I'll be right back!"

He was up and running inside in a flash, and it gave you a moment to breathe.

Maybe he really wanted to befriend you?

You hit yourself on the forehead.

Was a carrot cake enough to make you dumb? Have you not gone through hell? Before you could dwell on it for too long, he was back.

"Okay, I managed to get you not one, but two pieces! It's a special cake for little bunnies like you! My Hwa loves making treats for hybrids. Come on, dig in!"

He left the pink plate with the cakes and a spoon on the bench, sitting down in front of you. Wooyoung didn't want you to feel scared, so he thought it was best to be eye level. It bothered you to see him cross legged on the cold concrete, the rain wetting his pants.

"Don't... Don't cats hate water?"

His eyes went wide hearing your soft voice. He started nodding frantically.

"Yeah, we do. But you can't be the only one getting wet. What's a little water, am I right?"

You glanced at the plate again, too afraid to reach for it. Wooyoung noticed, and he picked up the spoon, extending it over to you.

"Come on. You must be hungry. I don't like carrot cake, you can have it all to yourself."

Your eyes stayed fixated on his hand holding the tiny spoon. Should you go for it? You were hungry, tired, and frankly if he wanted to do something bad, he had many chances.

Slowly, your hand reached out, and Wooyoung smiled. He clapped when you finally took the spoon in your small hand.

"That's it! Good job bunny. Now, dig in!"

Oh well, here goes nothing. Just as you put the utensil in the soft, creamy cake, the door to the shop opened again.

"Wooyoung! Where the hell did you run off to with my plate! You don't even like..."

You stood up quickly, dropping the spoon from your hands and backed up a few steps.

"I'm sorry, I'm so sorry! I won't eat, here!" Your voice trembled with fear, hands held up in the air so that he could see you weren't taking anything.

"Oh damn it Hwa! She was about to take a bite!"

Wooyoung stood up as well, going over to this Hwa person. He was a young man, with long blonde hair tied in a small ponytail. He was frozen in place until Wooyoung hit him on the shoulder. If you ever did that, you'd be beaten until you couldn't stand, but the man didn't even blink.

"So... I assume the cake is for her?"

"Yes! I was about to make a new friend, and look, now you scared her!"

The boys glanced at you, shivering, hands still in the air. The blonde man cleared his throat.

"I apologize for that. I'm Seonghwa, and this is my naughty, obnoxious, loud..." - "We get it!"

Seoghwa covered Wooyoung's mouth with his hand.

"- hybrid Wooyoung. What's your name?"

"Y/N."

"Hey how come you've told him your name right away but you didn't wanna tell me?"

You had no answer to Wooyoung's question. Honestly, you were too afraid not to answer, because two against one was a losing battle.

"Calm down Woo, look at her. The poor thing is terrified. Hey, Y/N, please, help yourself with the cake. It's all yours."

Not a chance. The whole ruckus had to stop, or you would faint from fear.

"I don't want it. I'm sorry, can I please go now? I won't come back, I promise. Please, just... Let me go."

Both men looked at you with a sorrowful expression, and Seonghwa quickly realised what they were dealing with. If your freaked out stance wasn't a giveaway, it was the lack of suitable clothes for this weather, and your dirty bunny ears. Wooyoung was a bit oblivious sometimes, so he probably didn't figure it out. you were definitely a stray, and by the looks of it, you were having a tough time.

Seonghwa pushed Wooyung behind him, fixing him with a stare before the cat opened his mouth to complain. They had to do this carefully.

"Say Y/N... Do you live around here? Does your owner know you are away from home?"

They're not going to send you back to him, right? They wouldn't do that? I mean, you could explain it, but would he believe you? What if you just say you were out on a stroll? Maybe they will let you leave peacefully?

"I-I... M-My home..."

It took one pleading look from Wooyung to make you break down.

"Please don't send me back! I swear I will never come close to your shop, just please don't make me go back!"

Tears were starting to slide down your cheeks, and the men felt crushed. There you were, an incredibly cute bunny hybrid, all alone in the cold. You were so afraid of going back home you were shaking. Wooyoung felt miserable looking at you. He had his Seonghwa, a bed, food, shelter from the storm...

He didn't know what to say. For the first time in forever, he was speechless.

His brain, however, worked overtime. It clicked.

"We can take you with us! Right Hwa? She can come with us?"

You froze, tears still falling down, and looked wide eyed at Wooyoung. Seonghwa's mouth dropped open, and he turned towards his hybrid.

"Wooyoung! You can't just say that." The cat grabbed onto his shoulders.

"Please Hwa! Look at her! We can't leave her like this." He pushed him away and rushed towards you. His arms went around you, and you tried breaking free, but he was much stronger than you.

"Wooyoung, let the poor thing go! You're scaring her!"

Seonghwa tried prying his hands off you, but to no avail. He wasn't letting go, and your tears weren't letting up.

"I'm so tired... Please, just let me go..."

You stopped shaking after feeling his warmth, and you honestly haven't felt it in so long you almost forgot how it was.

The men noticed you were calming down slowly, and Seonghwa was at a crossroad.

"Please Hwa, look at the poor thing."

Seonghwa sighed. He hated when Wooyoung was right, but he had to agree with him. They couldn't let her stay outside in this condition. She was clearly frightened, cold, and who knows what she's been through.

"Y/N... Do you want to come with us? We can give you some real food, and a warm bed. Wooyoung won't mind sleeping on the couch tonight, is that right?"

Wooyoung loved his bed, and he hated sharing it, but he didn't even think twice before answering.

"Yes! You can have my bed, and my fuzzy socks. I will even give you my favourite blanket. It has kitties all over it."

Seonghwa couldn't help but laugh. His hybrid was one of a kind, and he loved him for it. They watched the poor bunny as she slowly looked up from Wooyoung's chest.

"C-Can I? I-I promise I'll be gone tomorrow."

"What? No! You're not going anywhere!" She looked up at the cat, and he was almost offended by her statement.

"Come on now, we'll talk about it tomorrow when you're rested. Woo, let the poor girl go now, you'll suffocate her." He tried prying his hands off the bunny, but to no avail.

"She doesn't mind, right? Stop trying to separate us!"

"A-Actually, you're kind of making it hard to breathe."

Seonghwa gave Wooyoung a hard look, and he reluctantly let go.

"Fine, but I'm hugging you again later. You're really soft."

You swayed on your feet a bit as his arms let go. It was obvious you were tired, so Seonghwa rushed inside to pick up his things and lock up. Meanwhile, Wooyoung took the plate and spoon in his hands. He smiled at you, offering it again.

"It would be a shame to let it go to waste, we'll take it home with us."

You didn't know what to say, so you just nodded. The thought of cake made you a bit sick at the moment.

Before Wooyoung could start blabbing again, Seonghwa came out with his bag and locked the door behind him.

"Okay, we're all set. Our apartment is just around the corner, are you okay to walk? We have an umbrella, you and Wooyoung can share it."

He handed over the large yellow umbrella, but Wooyoung quickly shook his head.

"I don't need it, give it to her." His owner's eyes almost bulged out of his head. The cat hated getting wet. He must really like you if he was willing to get drenched for you. Seonghwa watched as his hybrid wrapped his red sweater around your shoulders, careful not to scare you again. He then opened the umbrella and made sure you had a good grip on it before turning to Seonghwa and gesturing that they should go.

They made their way down the street, not exactly rushing because they knew you probably couldn't go very fast. Seonghwa was a bit lost in thought.

Wooyoung has been in his life for almost three years now. They were both young when Seonghwa adopted him from a shelter. He didn't like how people treated hybrids, because at the end of the day, they were still part human. He decided he would find himself a companion, someone to share meals with, talk, and have fun. He was a nurturing person, so the prospect of taking care of someone came naturally for him. Wooyoung was a firecracker from the start. He didn't hide his rambunctious personality, and he always kept Seonghwa on his toes. They had a strong bond, and everybody in Seonghwa's life adored the lovely black cat. When he opened up the bakery two years ago, Woo insisted on being the first customer. With the money he saved up doing online photography commission, he bought almost every dessert in the display. He even left a hefty tip. The joy on his face made Seonghwa melt, and he adored how happy he was.

They talked about making their family of two bigger by adopting another hybrid, but soon decided it was best they stay as they are until Seonghwa found someone he wanted to settle down with. Wooyoung wasn't jealous, but he loved his space and he didn't like sharing it. It was obvious why Seonghwa was taken aback by his wish to take the little bunny home with them.

He turned around and glanced at them, hearing Wooyoung talk about how nice his bed was, how his Hwa makes the best pancakes in the morning, and how they were going to make her a bubble bath once they got to the apartment. The bunny looked at her feet, struggling to hold onto the umbrella. She only nodded along to the other hybrid's words, but no sound came from her.

She must have had it rough out in the streets. Who knows what she's been through. One look at her could tell it wasn't a nice experience. He could only hope she would eventually trust them enough to tell her story.

After a quick walk, they arrived at their apartment building.

"Look bunny, here we are! Come on, come on, let's hurry inside."

Wooyoung rushed past Seonghwa, handing him the umbrella. He was still clutching the plate with two very wet pieces of carrot cake. His determination was sometimes overshadowed with his carelessness.

"Wooyoung, don't hassle the poor girl. It's okay, you don't have to rush. We live on the fourth floor, are you okay with taking the elevator?"

He looked at the shivering bunny, and she only nodded in response.

With a sigh, they caught up to Wooyoung who was already holding the door to the elevator open.

"Come on slow pokes! Our bunny needs to warm up!"

His owner raised an eyebrow. 'Our bunny'?

He was clearly thinking they were going to keep her. Maybe they could, but they first had to get her settled for the night, then they could talk about it more thoroughly.

The dim light cast a shadow over her, and it was apparent how tired she was. The dark bags under her eyes stood out even more. There was a sharp tug in Seonghwa's chest, and he couldn't help but feel sorry for her. Poor little thing.

Once they made it to their door, his cat practically oozed joy. He put the key in and unlocked it, and Wooyung bolted inside.

"So here we are! Shoes go onto the rack by the door, we don't want Hwa to have a meltdown. Dirty clothes immediately get taken off and thrown into the hamper because the furniture can't be dirty, lastly you..."

Wooyoung stopped talking when he saw her cowering by the entrance. Seonghwa stood next to him, gesturing for the cat to shut up for a second.

"Hey bunny, he didn't mean to startle you. Just take it easy, okay?"

"You want me to take my clothes off?"

He realised what she had in mind, and he flailed his hands around, shaking his head.

"Oh, no. No, no, bunny. He didn't mean it like that! We will give you a fresh set to change into after you take a bath, but you'll do it all by yourself. We won't come near you, I promise. You can even lock the door."

Wooyoung nodded along to Seonghwa's words, realising himself how that might have sounded to her.

She nodded, taking a couple more steps inside. Her senses picked up on the faint vanilla smell, the ticking of the big clock above the TV, and the movement of the small lava lamp on the counter. Their apartment was nice, clean, and homey. She could see yarn balls in every corner of the room, probably Wooyoung's. She could also see a stack of cook books on the coffee table, and she guessed those were Seonghwa's.

"C-Can I go to the bathroom now please? I-I'm kind of cold."

Wooyoung, ever the eager, took her by the hand and walked her down the hallway.

"Of course! You just take your time inside. Here we are." He opened the door and took the liberty of preparing everything she would need.

"There you have all the shower products that you need. You can even use Seonghwa's expensive hair shampoo, he won't mind. He doesn't let me use it because I always empty out his bottle. But you're cute, so he'll let you. Oh! You can even make a bath bomb, look. You have many options in this basket."

He also gave her a stack of towels and told her to use whichever she wanted. By the time the tub was full Seonghwa came inside with an armful of clothes. He put them on the washing machine before turning towards her.

"Here you go. I didn't know what you would like, so you have some sweaters and shirts to choose from. Leave your clothes in the hamper, I'll take care of them later. You can also explore the cabinets above the sink, we have many products. Take as much time as you need, we'll be in the living room. Would you like to eat something?"

She forgot about food for a second. Her stomach rumbled a bit, and she wrapped her arms around herself.

"Some bread would be nice, please."

The boys looked at each other before turning towards her again. Seonghwa crouched down to look her in the eyes.

"How about some warm soup and a bowl of rice? Does that sound nice, bunny?"

She nodded slowly, almost afraid he would take the offer back if she was too eager.

He only smiled. "That's settled. We'll leave you to it now."

He ushered Wooyoung out before the cat made you more nervous, and they closed the door.

Finally, alone with your thoughts, you sat on the edge of the tub and looked at the tiled walls. Never could you have imagined running into people like them. Human or hybrid, your encounters these past few months have been terrible. You were so used to insults, nasty comments and a shove here and there, that the concept of someone being decent long escaped your head.

The exhaustion took over your body, and the warm water was calling your name. You walked over to the door and turned the lock, checking the handle to be sure you were safe inside. After that, you took your dirty clothes off and pushed them inside the hamper. The second you stepped into the warmth, your body almost started humming. As you settled in further, a smile made its way onto your face.

How you've missed this feeling. You submerged yourself completely, wetting your hair and ears before leaning against the tub. There was a variety of bottles in a small plastic container on the shelf, and you picked a random one to start washing yourself.

If Wooyoung said you had free reign, you might just use it. God knows when you'll be able to again.

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"Please Hwa! She is clearly in need of a home. I don't mind, really. I want her with us!"

"Wooyoung, for the love of God, you've only just met this girl. How can you be so infatuated already?"

The excited hybrid went to the fridge and pulled out various ingredients to make the bunny something to eat. He knew she would mainly go for vegetables, so he made sure he had lots of those. Maybe he could make her a quick salad while heating up the soup?

"Listen, hyung, I appreciate your concern. Really, I do. But I'm sure you like her as well, you just won't say it. Look at her! She is so tiny, and soft, and she smells so sweet... She's perfect for us. And I won't be so bored when you're at work."

"You sit at the bakery most of the time."

Wooyoung scoffed.

"Yeah, well, I want to sit at home, but I don't want to be alone!"

Oh. That was new. Seonghwa was kind of stunned for a moment before he really took a good look at the rowdy cat. He looked kind of... Sad.

"Why didn't you tell me that sooner? We agreed a year ago we wouldn't bring more hybrids to the house."

He was now aggressively chopping some lettuce, and Seonghwa was worried he'd chop a finger off.

"I know, I was there. I was the initiator of that conversation. I just... Sometimes I wanna sit here, on my favourite couch, and just do nothing. But I hate being alone. I thought you would be mad at me."

Seonghwa quickly walked over to him. He opened his arms and the cat rushed into a hug.

"Oh sweetheart, I'm sorry I didn't notice it sooner. I'm not mad at you, I'm surprised you've managed to keep it to yourself this long."

They both chucked and enjoyed each other's embrace. Wooyoung was affectionate, his love language being physical touch, so Seonghwa had to cuddle him all the time. It's not like he minded, it gave him a sense of calmness as well. Although most of the time he had to measure his blood pressure to make sure it didn't go over the roof.

"Does that mean we can keep her? She can stay here and be with me? I promise I'll take care of her!"

Seonghwa stayed silent, thinking about how their lives would change if they took her in. She was clearly in need of it, and Wooyoung had a point. It might give him some space to do things on his own, and he liked that.

"Listen, I'm saying we can talk to her about it, and if she says yes..."

Wooyoung squeezed him again, rubbing his cheek all over his shoulders and neck.

"Thank you, thank you, thank you! I can't wait to tell her!"

As if sensing they were talking about you, you slowly emerged from the hallway.

"I-Im done. S-Sorry I took so long, it felt really nice."

If they could have melted on the spot they would've. You were as cute as a button, with your wet hair and ears, swimming in Seonghwa's sweatshirt and Wooyoung's pants. You bare feet tapped on the ground, and you nervously grabbed the hem of the shirt in your small hands.

Wooyoung detached himself from Hwa and made his way over to you.

"Look at you! Oh, let me get my fuzzy socks, I have tons! And I'll get a hairbrush and the dryer. We don't want you catching a cold all wet like this. Come, come, the soup is ready. Hyung, make sure she eats a lot!"

He went around you, sniffing slightly and smiling when he caught a whiff of his scent mixed with yours. He couldn't wait to properly scent you, so that others knew you belonged to him.

"Come, bunny. Take a seat." Seonghwa gestured towards the kitchen island where three chairs sat, and you picked the one closest to you.

"I-I can sit on the floor if you want."

He frowned. "Nonsense. I barely managed to teach Wooyoung to sit at the table during meals, he'll go right back to eating in front of the TV if he sees you."

So, they had freedom to sit where they wanted? That was a new thing for you. You didn't want to question it, so you made yourself comfortable on the chair. Seonghwa placed a steaming bowl of soup in front of you, next to it a bowl filled with fresh salad, and a big glass of water.

"Eat first, then drink the water. Try not to rush, we don't want you to get a stomachache."

"Yes sir." You nodded as politely as you could and slowly picked up the spoon. Seonghwa lightly frowned at your choice of words. Never once had he heard Wooyoung call him that. It was always something endearing, or a simple 'Hwa'. Whoever had you before made sure to discipline you harshly it seemed. He noticed you glancing at him, still holding the spoon but not taking a bite. Maybe you thought he would punish you if you actually ate? That made him turn around and go to the sink to wash the dishes Wooyoung pulled up while cooking. He would give you the privacy you needed to make sure you ate without fear.

He heard you slurping the broth after a few minutes, and soon enough you started chowing down on the salad. He kept himself busy with his back turned, and only when he heard you exhale in satisfaction did he turn.

You sure made a mess on the table, and your cheeks were still full, but you looked absolutely adorable.

"How was it bunny? Is Wooyoung a good cook?"

"Of course I'm good! I'm brilliant! Look, she ate it all! Good job sweetie!"

You froze in place, swallowing the remaining food, and keeping your head down.

"H-He is. Thank you, Wooyoung."

The cat was beaming at your words, and Hwa could practically feel the praise going into his head.

"My pleasure! I'll cook for you every day! Come now, I finally found the pink socks, and I even found a pink hair tie. Hyung loves pink, but he won't admit it out loud."

Seonghwa gasped. "Hey now. Don't go around telling all my secrets."

"Oh please, give me a break. I don't have time to argue with you right now, I have a bunny to groom. Let's go to the couch, we can put on my favourite movie!"

The girl barely managed to get down before she was dragged towards the living room. Things change, but Wooyoung will always stay the same. He understood to some degree that she was delicate, but that perished from his mind as soon as he let himself be, well... Himself.

"Here, you sit down on the pillow, and I'll sit behind you. Hwa, can you get us some snacks? Thanks!"

Yes, he was unapologetically himself.

"Sure thing Woo... Remind me who the owner of this house is again?" The younger boy laughed, the sound startling the poor bunny.

"Silly you, we share it, remember? I'm the perfect housewife, and you bring in the money! We love money Y/N! I'll teach you how to use hyung's special credit card to buy cute clothes."

He positioned himself behind you after making sure you were comfortable on the pillow. You hugged your knees to your chest, and glanced around seeing his legs beside yours. You were never this close with someone before, but it felt nice with how warm Wooyung was. He slowly started brushing out your tangled hair, and you closed your eyes to enjoy the moment. Seonghwa came over and you saw him place a bowl of cut up fruit in front of you.

"Help yourself Y/N. There's a variety in there. Wooyoung usually eats all the strawberries, but I'm sure he can share them with you."

"Ha! Of course I can. She can eat them all if she wants." He paused the brushing for a moment.

"Well, maybe leave me one or two, but go ahead!"

You smiled slightly, and Seonghwa's eyes softened. Wooyoung had a way with people, and he could make them comfortable quickly. He was glad his hybrid had an impact on you already.

The moment was soon ruined by a single touch to your ear.

"Hey, let's brush these out as well, you -"

"No!"

You covered your bunny ears with your hands, gathering yourself in a ball.

"Please don't! N-Not my ears. Please!"

Wooyoung could feel you trembling, and he moved his hands in the air.

"Woah, bunny, sorry. I won't touch them if you don't want to."

Seonghwa kneeled in front of you, lowering his head to catch your eyes.

"Hey sweetie, he won't touch them. He didn't mean to scare you. Do you want him to stop brushing your hair now?"

You nodded and Wooyoung's happy face soon turned sad. Maybe he should have asked before touching, but he didn't think it would be a problem. He loved it when people scratched behind his ears.

"Do you want to feel my ears? I sometimes make Hwa pet me for hours!"

You uncovered yourself slowly, turning your head to glance at him.

"Y-You like that? D-Doesn't it feel bad?"

"No! Not at all! Come on, I'll show you how to do it."

He gently grabbed your hand and placed it behind one of his black ears, moving it around to guide you. He let go, and you continued petting him. The purrs he let rumble from his chest made you confused? Jisung only grabbed you by the ears to teach you a lesson. Sometimes he even pulled you around the house. Wooyoung's eyes closed, and he leaned into your touch.

"See bunny? Now that he showed you, he's gonna make you do it all the time." Seonghwa reached over and scratched the cat's other ear, and he looked like he went to heaven.

"I-I see... B-But can you not do it to me, please? Not y-yet..."

You put your hand down, and Seonghwa moved his away. Wooyoung opened his eyes and smiled.

"No problem. But just so you know, I expect scratches from you too now. Your hands are really gentle."

You glanced at him again, seeing the satisfaction on his face. Maybe it didn't have to be so bad after all? You were still queasy about the thought of someone touching your sensitive ears, but it could be an option in the back of your mind.

The evening went on without a hitch after that. Seonghwa helped you put on the fuzzy pink socks, bickering with Wooyoung who was brushing your hair for an hour straight. If somebody had told you this is how hybrids talked to their owners, you wouldn't believe them. You would likely get smacked if you even thought about raising your voice, but Seonghwa only sighed at Wooyoung's screams. Your ears kind of hurt, but it was amusing, so you stayed quiet. They showed you how to turn the TV on, where the pantry filled with treats was, and how to adjust the heater in Wooyoung's room. He didn't want to change the sheets because he claimed it would only comfort you if you smelled his scent. You kind of had to agree with that.

Soon enough, you were tucked under a soft blanket with the two men standing above you.

"Night night bunny! Wake me up when you get out of bed, I usually sleep until noon, but I don't want to miss out on our time together!" The cat waved and hopped out of the room, leaving you with his owner.

"We can talk about everything tomorrow once you've rested. You had a long day." He lightly patted you on the head, avoiding your ears, and soon you were left alone.

Even though the room was unfamiliar, you kind of liked how it made you feel. The walls were filled with polaroids, you could see a camera on the desk, and there were fairly lights on the ceiling.

Your eyes slowly closed, and you fell in a dreamless sleep for the first time in God knows how long. You were finally safe, and you couldn't get enough of the feeling.

.

.

[little-diable]

A dare to kiss - Tyler Owens (smut)

I'll keep on riding the Tyler train till my ideas run out. Please like and reblog if you enjoyed reading this, your comments keep us writers motivated! Enjoy my loves. xxx

Summary: Tyler and the reader have been best friends for years. But after another storm season, she finally snaps and realises she can't be around him any longer, not when her feelings for him won't let go of her. But perhaps the feelings aren't unrequited as she fears.

Warnings: 18+, smut, oral (f), friends to lovers, idiots in love, some angst, but a very happy ending

Pairing: Tyler Owens x fem!reader (2.4k words)

“How old are you? Stop it, Boone!” (Y/n)’s voice dripped with annoyance, eyes flickering from her friends and colleagues down to her drink. It had been their last day of chasing, saying goodbye to another season that had been filled with exciting but also horrible moments they all haven’t quite processed just yet.

“Oh, c’mon, it’s just a kiss!” Boone excitedly clapped his hands while he let his gaze wander from (y/n) to Tyler, who was looking at her with an unreadable expression. They no longer knew who had started their annual game of truth and dare, passing a few hours where they got to spill secrets, fears, and do harmless dares to end the night with stomachs that hurt from laughing too much.

At least it had always been like that until this very dare, something that clearly went too far for her aching heart. Her feelings for Tyler were no secret, they all knew of the feelings she harboured for her best friend – all but Tyler, who obliviously chased other women while (y/n) was forced to suffer around him. 

“Give her another dare, Boone.” Tyler’s voice drew all eyes towards him, ripping their hope of finally being able to push the two of them together into shreds. They were too focused on Tyler to pick up on the hurt crossing her features. It was her own fault, she should have just kissed him, should have crossed the distance between them while the chance had been right there for her to grasp. A chance that had passed the second Tyler had spoken up.

“You know what, I’m tired anyway, I’ll head back to the motel.” She rose to her trembling feet, hands buried in the pockets of her jacket to hide the fists she had balled them into from their confused eyes. She didn’t wait for them to speak up, turned from them with an aching heart and allowed the darkness to swallow her while almost jogging back to her room. 

Even though (y/n) hated parting from the group, not wanting to leave them that early on their last evening together, she needed to be alone with her thoughts for a while. Staying this close to Tyler for the past weeks had been more exhausting than she had thought it would be, unable to endure his closeness any longer. She should look forward to returning home, to quiet hours where she won’t have to worry about hiding the feelings she hadn’t been able to let go of for the past years. 

The door to her room fell shut behind her, letting the silence wrap itself around (y/n) while she wiped away the tears that had started to fall. Curses rumbled through her, she felt as if she was drowning, unable to breathe while the room closed in on her. Her body started moving without listening to her mind's command. She threw all her stuff into her bag, hastily reaching for her things as her vision grew more blurry. 

She needed to get away, needed to make it home, she couldn’t stand being around him for another minute. She left the room with her heart in her throat, forced to a sudden halt before she could collide with Dexter. His hands shot out to catch her should she fall, drawing her tear stained features up towards him. 

“Oh, (y/n). What’s going on?” She let her head fall against his chest, searching the closeness of the man who had always treated her like his daughter, the first one she had told her feelings for Tyler to. A sob wrecked through her, forcing him to tighten his hold on her to keep (y/n) close. 

“I need to leave, I can’t do this any longer, Dexter. Here, this is my room key.” She pushed the key into his hand, trusting him to take care of checking her out in the morning. His hand ran up and down her spine in a comforting manner, set on soothing the pain she felt all too clearly. Another sob left (y/n) before she stepped out of the embrace. “Tell the others I’m sorry and that I’ll reach out soon.”

(Y/n) squeezed his hand one last time, trying to put on a soft smile for the man who stared down at her with pity swimming in his pupils. She felt his eyes on her as she jogged towards her truck, set on driving through the night to make it home before the sun would paint the horizon in bleeding colours.

……

“Hey, it’s me again. It’s been a while, and I really need to see you, (y/n). We need to talk, call me back, please.” 

She woke to new voice messages every single day since leaving a few weeks ago. At first Tyler had voiced out his disappointment and confusion, not understanding why she had left him just like that. And then the sadness had entered the picture, begging (y/n) to call him back because he missed her and was sorry for whatever he had done to her. And now his voice no longer carry any emotions, monotonous and unfamiliar without any nicknames he’d normally use. 

(Y/n) knew it was time for her to finally reach out to him, to bury her own sadness and her embarrassment and to call her best friend, if she could still call him that. Her hands shook as she clicked onto his contact, listening to it ring five times before he answered with a whisper of her name. 

“Hi,” no further word managed to leave her. She listened to him exhale, shuffle around before speaking up.

“Are you at home today? I’d come round to see you.” A part of her screamed at her to say no, knowing that she shouldn't meet him at home, the one place where she had managed to focus on her feelings, giving her space to think about them properly. But the stronger part knew it would be less awkward to see him here than somewhere else where they could easily run into fans. 

“I am.” His hum shot shudders down her spine, forcing her to fist the blanket she had tossed over her cold legs. 

“I’ll be over around three, see you then.” He ended the call before another word could leave her. Her stomach was churning, not used to his cold voice and how he spoke to her as if she was a business contact or a stranger almost. 

(Y/n) let her phone drop into her lap while she sank further into her couch. What would she even tell Tyler? She wasn’t ready for his rejection, wasn’t ready to mess up what was still remaining of their friendship. Even though she couldn’t stand being close to him for longer than a few hours, (y/n) also knew that life without Tyler by her side wasn’t worth living. 

……

“There you go.” She pushed the coffee towards Tyler who was leaning against the kitchen island, right across from her. His eyes followed her every move, ever since a rather awkward hug and exchanged pleasantries that felt as if they didn’t know one another at all. He shot her a grateful smile before taking a sip, not letting his gaze leave her nervous features once. “How are you?”

“Cut the bullshit, (y/n). Wanna tell me why my best friend ran from me and then decided to ghost me for the past weeks?” Her heart sank, letting her guilt settle deep inside her stomach. Her eyes found interest in studying her trembling hands, not daring to get lost in Tyler’s angry expression. 

“I’m sorry, I was just so exhausted with it all. I needed some time away.” A humourless laugh clawed through Tyler, a sound that finally forced her eyes back towards him. 

“You’ve never been good at lying. What is this really about, huh? Why did the others all seem to understand what’s going on, but you couldn’t tell me?” His voice carried his hurt, dripping with sadness and anger she also felt flushing through her system. 

“It's nothing you need to worry-“ the sound of his palm coming down on her kitchen island interrupted her, forcing her pupils to widen as he shook his head at her. It felt as if she was looking at a stranger, not once had she seen Tyler this hurt and angry, never directed at her at least.

“Just be honest, (y/n)! I’m supposed to be your best friend, or is this what this all is about? Do you no longer want to be-“ now it was on her to interrupt him.

“It’s because I’m in love with you, you idiot!” And then they were engulfed by nothing but silence. The seconds faded by, turning into almost a full minute of Tyler just staring at her with an unreadable expression. It seemed as if he was combing through his every moment with her, reliving all the past years to figure out how he could have missed this. His silence forced her lips to part again, knowing that she needed to say some more. 

“I tried to let go of it, I really did. But being around you made it impossible for me. I am sorry, I just needed some time alone. And then that dare, I wanted to kiss you so badly, but it would have been my end, and I couldn’t risk losing that last shred of sanity I had in me.” Her whispers lured Tyler closer, letting her watch him round the kitchen island to come to a halt in front of her. 

“Look at me, darling.” Her heart skipped a beat at the use of the nickname, taking some fear from her trembling body. Slowly she raised her gaze, looking up at him with glassy eyes as he cupped her cheeks with his big hands. “I’m sorry it took me this long to see it, but I was quite occupied with hiding my own feelings from you.”

Tyler’s words left her frozen, staring at him with confusion laced in her gaze. Her mind was racing, letting his words sink in to understand what he had just told her. A soft chuckle rumbled through him, “Will you let me kiss you? No dare this time.” 

She shifted her weight onto her toes, letting her lips collide with his. Tyler instantly replied to the touch, kissing (y/n) breathless while his hands moved down her sides. She deepened the kiss with a soft moan clawing through her, allowing his tongue to meet hers. Both their hearts were racing, pounding in their chests as if they had just returned from another chase, losing themselves in the adrenaline that still buzzed through them. 

Tyler parted from her for a moment, hands wandering down her thighs to pick her up and place her down on the kitchen island. For the first time since she had started being with partners, she truly felt weightless, trusting Tyler fully with whatever he had in mind. Slowly, he connected their lips again, kissing her to stop her racing thoughts from overthinking what was about to happen.

“Do you want this? Do you want to be touched by me?” His voice was raspy, deeper than it had been before - details that made her walls flutter in excitement. 

“Please, touch me, Tyler.” The hum he let go of was drowned out by her gasp as he pushed her back down on the kitchen island, feeling his wandering hands find their way to her pair of shorts. He pulled the fabric down her legs, panties following moments later to expose her lower body to his piercing eyes.

“What a beautiful sight, it was worth waiting for all these years.” Heat rose up her neck, spurred on by his praises. Carefully he touched her, letting his fingers brush through her slit, spreading her arousal on her skin. Goosebumps littered her body as if she was trapped in a cold room, unable to stop shaking. And yet her body was burning up, set ablaze by his touch. 

“I need to taste you, can I, baby?” Nothing but a moaned “yes” left (y/n). His tongue felt rough against her pulsing bundle, letting the sensation zap through her aching body like lighting. She tried to find something to hold on to, and yet her fingers could only wander to his head to tug on his almost golden roots. 

“Jesus fuck, why haven’t we done this sooner?” (Y/n)’s words left Tyler chuckling against her heat. The sound vibrated on her skin, pushing her even closer towards the edge.

“Seems like I ain’t doing my job well enough if you can still speak.” He was urging himself to move his tongue quicker while pushing two fingers into her heat. Her walls clenched around his fingers, drawing him even closer in while her orgasm crept closer and closer. A moan clawed through (y/n), letting it reverberate through the air as Tyler sucked on her pulsing bundle. 

“Atta girl, I got you, pretty.” He comforted her, cozied her along to finally push her over the edge. His name left her parted lips like a prayer, unable to think of any other thing to say as she felt the blinding sensation wander up her limbs. (Y/n) came without a warning, back arched off the cold kitchen island top. 

Tyler kept lapping at her folds to guide her through her high before he pressed one last kiss to her inner thigh. He moved up her body, hands stroking their way up her sides until he cupped her warm cheeks to pull her in for a kiss. 

“I love you, darling, and I promise to make up for all the time we’ve lost.” 

[pucksandpower]

Breaking Point

Charles Leclerc x Ferrari!Reader

Summary: Charles Leclerc finally reaches his breaking point after the disaster that was the United States Grand Prix. Something needs to change … and that’s where you come in

“Again, again!” Charles’ voice rings out, echoing through the debrief room, “How can we mess this up? I was on pole!”

Fred Vasseur looks down, sighing, but trying to maintain composure. “Charles, it was a miscalculation—”

“A miscalculation?” Charles retorts, eyes blazing, “This has been a trend all season, Fred. It’s not a one-time mistake. It’s systemic.”

Carlos, looking uncomfortable, tries to chime in, “It wasn’t just about strategy, you know the car—”

“Oh, I know the car,” Charles snaps, “And it was built against my driving preference. But it’s not just that. It’s everything. The poor race strategy, the unnecessary swap, and now being disqualified as if my day has not been bad enough!”

Enrico Cardile, the team’s technical director, steps forward, “Disqualification was not anticipated. We followed the regulations to the best—”

“Enough with the excuses!” Charles’ voice cracks with emotion. The weight of the season, the betrayal he feels, finally makes him see red. “Every time there’s an excuse. We’re a team and yet somehow it feels like I’m constantly battling not just our opponents but Ferrari as well.”

A deep silence settles.

The head strategist, Ravin Jain, finally speaks up hesitantly, “We thought the one-stop made sense. The data suggested—”

“Data,” Charles interrupts bitterly, “The same data that led to a decision that every other team on the grid laughed at! Did the data also suggest swapping me with Carlos? Or was I being punished for being able to manage my tires?”

Carlos, despite himself, looks hurt. “I didn’t ask for the swap,” he mutters.

Charles takes a breath, looking at his teammate, “I know. It’s not your fault, hermano. But I need to trust the team’s decisions. And right now, I don’t.”

Sporting Director Diego Ioverno tries to mediate, “It’s been a tough season, Charles. Everyone is understandably stressed. Let’s sit down, review everything together, and find a way forward.”

Charles shakes his head, “That’s what we said last time. And the time before that. And the twenty times before that! Empty promises, meetings, discussions, and then what? Nothing gets done and there is another disaster waiting to happen.”

Fred tries one more time, “We’re as frustrated as you are. We’re a family. We’ll figure this out.”

Charles scoffs, “I can’t keep being let down and used. Not like this.”

The room falls silent once more, a heavy cloud of disappointment and tension hanging in the air.

Carlos reaches out, placing a hand on Charles’ shoulder, “Things will get better.”

Charles meets Carlos’ gaze, nodding slightly. But the fire in his eyes has not dimmed, “I need to believe in this team again. But right now ...” He pauses, “I have a call to make.”

He turns, leaving the room filled with introspective silence. The team is left behind, grappling with their own emotions, knowing that actions will always speak louder than words.

***

Charles steps out into the warm evening air, taking a moment to compose himself before dialing a number he knows by heart but hasn’t touched in months.

“Hey,” Charles’ voice is a low rasp, every ounce of weariness evident.

Then a pause, as he listens to the voice on the other end.

“Yeah, it’s me ... look, I know what I said earlier this season. About handling it myself.” He takes a deep breath, letting the weight of it all settle.

A longer pause, broken by Charles’ intermittent nods and “Uh-huhs.”

“Every race feels like it’s been one disaster after another. And it’s not just the car, it’s everything. I can’t ... I can’t keep doing this to myself.”

He listens closely.

“I told them today, laid it all out. But it’s like talking to a brick wall. They listen, they nod, and then? The same mistakes. Over and over.”

He shifts his weight, the sound of his shoes scraping on the gravel echoing softly.

“I know, I know I told you not to get involved ... but maybe ... maybe that was a mistake.” He sounds defeated, a man at the end of his rope. “I need help. Real help. Maybe it’s time you step in.”

Charles is silent, absorbing whatever the person on the other end is saying.

“No, it’s not about leaving the team,” Charles’ voice is earnest, desperate even. “It’s about respect. Trust. It’s about feeling like I’m not constantly fighting against the tide, not just against other teams but within my own garage.”

A long pause.

“What I mean is, maybe some changes within the team would be good. Fresh perspectives. New faces, perhaps. Somewhere I can trust the decisions, the strategy ...”

He sighs.

“I just want to race, you know? Without all this drama. Without constantly wondering if I’m being set up to fail no matter what I do.”

Another pause as he listens, nodding, lost in the gravity of the decision he’s about to make.

“Thank you. Really. Let’s talk tomorrow? Lay out all our options?”

There’s a moment of quiet, only the sound of his breathing, the distant hum of the circuit, the world slowly dimming around him.

“Thanks. Goodnight, Y/N.”

***

“Emilia,” you call out, and before a moment passes, your ever-efficient personal assistant is by your side.

“Yes, Y/N?” Emilia asks, perfectly poised.

“I need the jet prepared. We’re heading to Mexico City,” you say, voice steady and determined though inside, the turmoil from the phone call with Charles still lingers.

Emilia raises an eyebrow slightly, a silent question in her eyes. “Any particular reason?”

You sigh, looking away for a moment, reflecting on the weight of the legacy you carry. “Scuderia Ferrari needs my direct attention. I trusted them to handle things, but ... it’s clear that has not been happening.”

Her eyes flash with understanding. “Of course. I’ll have the jet ready. When do you wish to depart?”

“Tomorrow morning, early.”

She’s already typing into her tablet. “I’ll book you the Presidential Suite at the Four Seasons. Will you be needing a meeting space there?”

“Absolutely,” you nod. “On Wednesday, before the Grand Prix. Organize for all team personnel to meet in the hotel conference room. And Emilia ... they are not to know the reason for the meeting or that I’m the one calling it.”

Her eyes gleam with a hint of mischief, “Mystery and surprise. I love it. Consider it done.”

A small, wry smile tugs at your lips. “Thank you. And can you make sure Charles knows about my arrival? But ask him to keep it quiet.”

“Of course. Anything else?”

You pause, taking a moment to consider. “Just one more thing. Make sure we have everything we need to review the team’s decisions and strategies for this season. Every little detail.”

Emilia nods. “Absolutely. Everything will be arranged as per your instructions.”

You take a deep breath, “Thanks, Emilia. This … it’s about preserving a legacy, and right now, that legacy is on shaky ground.”

She places a reassuring hand on your shoulder, “If anyone can steer this ship right, it’s you.”

***

The door to the conference room opens with a low creak, and the room immediately falls silent. Everyone turns to see you entering, your presence commanding every ounce of attention.

“Good afternoon,” you begin with ice-cold authority. “Thank you all for meeting on such short notice.”

There are murmurs of acknowledgment but no one dares speak up.

“I’ve reviewed our performance this season,” you continue, pacing the length of the conference room, letting each word sink in. “And to say I’m disappointed would be an understatement.”

Fred shifts uncomfortably in his seat, eyes darting around the room. You lock eyes with him, “Fred, you promised change. But the only change I’ve seen is our team’s steep decline.”

“I understand your frustration,” Fred stammers, “We’ve faced challenges—”

You cut him off sharply, “Challenges? Every team faces challenges. What matters is how you overcome them.”

Several team members look down, uncomfortably shuffling papers and avoiding eye contact.

You turn to the strategists, “Your decisions have cost us dearly, time and time again. Your inability to read a race situation, to adapt, to strategize effectively ... it’s quite frankly appalling.”

One of the strategists, a middle-aged man named Roberto, speaks up defensively, “We did our best with the information we had.”

Your eyes narrow, “Your best? Tell that to Charles, who has been left out in the cold race after race.”

Moving on, you address the engineers and designers, “Our car has issues that should have been rectified at the beginning of the season. Yet here we are, still struggling.”

An aerodynamicist named Lucia, clearly agitated, stands up. “We’ve been working tirelessly, trying to find solutions.”

You level her with a gaze, “Then maybe it’s time we look for people who can find those solutions more efficiently.”

Lucia’s face reddens, “You can’t just—”

“Actually I can,” you interrupt, “And I will.”

Your attention turns to Xavi, Charles’ race engineer, who has been noticeably silent. “Xavi, your dynamic with Charles has not been the slightest bit helpful. His feedback, his needs ... they’ve fallen on deaf ears.”

Xavi, trying to defend himself, says, “It’s a two-way street. Charles can be difficult.”

You shake your head, “Charles is a world-class driver. It’s your job to bridge any gaps, not widen them. I checked and it turns out that constantly repeating we are checking like a broken record is not beneficial for race performance!”

Taking a deep breath, you make your announcement, “Effective immediately, Roberto, Lucia, and several other strategists, engineers, and aerodynamicists that a personal audit revealed as detrimental to team performance relieved of their duties. Xavi, you too are let go.”

There are gasps around the room, the weight of your words sinking in. Roberto stands, fuming in anger, “You can’t just dismantle this team!”

You lock eyes with him, “I’m not dismantling. I’m rebuilding. And if that means letting go of every one of you who can’t uphold the standards of Scuderia Ferrari then so be it.”

Fred finally speaks up, “And what about me?”

You lean in, “Consider your position on very thin ice. I expect results. And fast.”

You straighten up, the room thick with tension, “Scuderia Ferrari is not just a team, it’s a legacy. My great-grandfather would be rolling in his grave to see what has been done to his beloved team. I will not stand by and watch it crumble.”

With a final, piercing gaze around the room, you pivot on your heel and exit with a flick of your hair.

***

You lean against the cool wall, taking a moment to gather yourself after the emotional intensity of the meeting. The hallway is quiet save for the distant hum of voices but soon familiar footsteps make their way around the corner.

“Charles,” you call out softly as spot the driver.

His green eyes, clouded with a mix of emotions, meet yours. “Y/N.”

“Are you okay?”

He hesitates, “I wasn’t expecting all of that.”

You nod, “It was long overdue. I should have intervened much sooner.”

Charles runs a hand through his hair, clearly trying to process everything. “It’s ... a lot. I didn’t think you would actually step in like this.”

You sigh, “I hoped I wouldn’t have to. But my bisnonno once said that aerodynamics are for people who can’t build engines, and right now, it sure seems like Ferrari can’t do either.”

Charles chuckles dryly, “You have a point. It’s been ... frustrating.”

You gently touch his arm, trying to reassure him, “Enzo also believed that dreams become bigger, much bigger, to build a car that doesn’t slow in the curves, that flies without leaving the ground. I want that dream for you. For us.”

He looks at you, “It’s all I’ve ever wanted. A car that allows me to race to my full potential.”

You nod, thinking of the iconic red car and its tremendous legacy, “I know. And we’ll get there. Remember, racing cars are neither beautiful nor ugly. They become beautiful when they win.”

A smile tugs at Charles’ lips, “I haven’t won in too long. I almost forget what it feels like.”

You step closer, “That is going to change. I’m here for the long haul. To rebuild, restructure, and reclaim the Ferrari legacy. Glory will be dressed in red once more.”

He nods and swallows thickly. “Thank you, Y/N. It means more than you know.”

You smile softly, “We’re a team. And I promise to do whatever it takes to see us on top again.”

***

Early that Friday at Autódromo Hermanos Rodríguez, you gather the team in the garage.

“Good morning, everyone,” you begin. “I know it has been a whirlwind these past few days but I want to set the tone for this weekend.”

Fred, still adjusting to the new dynamic, nods silently from the back.

“We haven’t had the time to implement any physical changes to the car,” you continue, “But they are coming. For now, the difference will be about being smart … being strategic.”

Charles listens intently, his gaze occasionally drifting to the newcomers in front of him.

Speaking of the new additions, you gesture to the two people standing on either side of you, “I’ve brought on Marit Nilsen as our Principal Strategy Engineer and Claudio Segreti as Charles’ new race engineer. Not only are they exceptional engineers but also global chess masters.”

There are murmurs of surprise and interest among the crew. The world of Formula 1 and professional chess has rarely, if ever, intersected.

Marit, a tall woman with striking blonde hair, steps forward, “Chess is all about strategy, foreseeing the opponent’s moves and countering them. That’s what we’re here to do but on the track.”

Claudio, with his dark hair and deep-set eyes, adds, “Every move and decision we make will be precise. We’ll anticipate, adapt, and overcome.”

Carlos clears his throat, “So what’s the plan for free practice?”

You smile, “Today, we observe. We learn. We see where the car stands, where our strengths and weaknesses lie.”

As free practice commences, there’s a different energy in the garage. Marit, with her sharp analytical mind, quickly picks up on patterns, working closely with Claudio and Carlos’ engineer to ensure both drivers get feedback they need.

There’s a visible shift throughout the weekend. The team, rejuvenated by fresh perspectives, operates with a renewed vigor. And while the car may not have upgrades yet, new strategy quickly begins to make a difference like anticipated.

Qualifying sees Charles securing P3, an unexpected but welcome result. The garage is full of cautious hope but Marit and Claudio remain focused, already planning for the race to come.

Race day dawns and the tension is thick. You pull Charles aside, “Remember, things have changed. Believe in the strategy and the moves we make.”

He nods, “I trust them. And I trust you.”

As the lights go out and the cars roar to life, Charles delivers a performance that’s both calculated and aggressive. Every pit stop and every overtake is orchestrated like a chess match.

The race sees Charles finishing in P2 and Carlos in P4, a significant improvement from recent races.

The garage is a mix of tentative elation and relief.

Marit thoroughly reviews the race data, “This is just the beginning. Once the car upgrades are in place, the board will be ours.”

The sun sets on the Mexico City Grand Prix, but for Scuderia Ferrari, a new dawn is on the horizon.

***

“Fabiano Turati,” you muse, looking at the impressive portfolio before you. “Aerospace engineer, a key player in the development of hypercars for Agnellotti Motors, a professor at Politecnico di Milano. But never in F1?”

Fabiano, with salt and pepper hair and an air of quiet confidence, smiles slightly. “It’s not for lack of offers. I have just always believed in pushing boundaries outside of traditional paths.”

You lean back, intrigued, “So why Ferrari now?”

His eyes scan around the garage, “A challenge. An opportunity. A legacy to uphold. And, to put it simply, I think I can make a difference.”

You nod, appreciative of his candor. “We have three races left this season: Brazil, Las Vegas, and Abu Dhabi. Realistically, how much can we improve?”

You can practically see the gears in his brain turning, “In terms of complete redesign? Not much. But in terms of optimization and efficiency? Quite a bit.”

By the Brazilian Grand Prix, Fabiano’s influence is evident. While not a complete transformation, the SF-23 sports streamlined wings and a refined rear diffuser, maximizing what the current design allows.

“Initial feedback is good,” Charles reports after the practice session. “There’s a notable difference in the corners.”

Carlos chimes in, “The balance feels better.”

The improvements are evident, with both Ferraris finishing just off the podium. But Las Vegas poses a new challenge: a circuit unfamiliar to all teams and drivers.

“This is anyone’s game,��� Marit says, examining the track layout.

Fabiano nods, “This weekend will be all about adaptation.”

The Las Vegas Grand Prix is an exhilarating rollercoaster. Charles fights for a podium finish, narrowly missing out but showcasing the SF-23’s newfound prowess, while Carlos secures a solid sixth.

As the season finale in Abu Dhabi looms, anticipation runs high. The Yas Marina Circuit will end the year with a test of Ferrari’s mettle.

Post-race, with both Ferraris finishing on the podium after avoiding a pile up that took out multiple opponents, there’s a sense of satisfaction but also of hunger.

“We’ve made progress,” Fabiano says as the garage winds down. “But next season, we’ll aim for a car that is not just evolved but fully revolutionized.”

You smile, “With you on board, I truly believe we can. The future is bright for Scuderia Ferrari.”

***

“Look at her,” Fabiano muses, admiration clear as the blueprint for the SF-24 is spread out before you both in your Maranello office.

“She’s a beauty,” you agree, tracing your fingers over the schematics. “If she performs half as well as she looks ...”

“She will,” Fabiano leaves no room for doubt. “We’ve streamlined the aerodynamics, enhanced the power unit, and made significant weight reductions.”

Carlos walks in with a grin on his face, “Is this the beast we’re taming next season?”

“That’s the plan.”

Charles catches your eye from where he lingers by the door. “It’s a fresh start,” he murmurs, approaching the table almost reverently. “I feel it.”

Over the following weeks, you rarely leave the factory other than to sleep and shower. You immerse yourself with the team, observing wind tunnel tests, joining strategy sessions, and even trying your hand with pit stop drills.

One evening, after a particularly long meeting, Charles finds you in the lounge, sipping an espresso. “Mind if I join you?”

You gesture to the seat across, “Of course not.”

He sits and just looks at you until you get the urge to fidget. “I’ve been thinking,” Charles begins, “About the changes, the car, and ... us.”

You raise an eyebrow, “Us?”

Charles smiles slightly, “You and I. We’ve spent so much time together these past weeks. I’ve gotten to know you, not just as Y/N Ferrari but as ... Y/N.”

You flush and not just from the hot coffee, “I feel the same. It’s been ... refreshing. Getting to know the man behind the helmet.”

He leans forward, elbows on the table, “There’s this great little place just outside Maranello. Quiet, hidden. I was thinking, maybe, dinner?”

Your heart skips a beat but you maintain your composure, “I’d really like that.”

The winter in Maranello unfolds, and as the SF-24 takes shape, so does the bond between you and Charles.

Between brainstorming sessions and late-night discussions about optimal setups, there are stolen moments: shared glances, lingering touches, and dinners that stretch long into the night talking about anything and everything.

Carlos teases, “Seems like the new car isn’t the only thing igniting sparks.”

You roll your eyes but there’s no hiding the smile tugging at your lips. You don’t try to deny it. Why bother when you hope it might be true one day?

***

r/formula1

Posted by RaceRundown · 6 hours ago

First look at the SF-24! Thoughts?

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RedFever · 6 hours ago

This could be the machine that keeps Ferrari at the top. Just look at those lines!

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PitStopPundit · 5 hours ago

Getting major 2004 vibes from this. Could be a dominant year for the Scuderia!

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***

You step into the air-conditioned motorhome, grateful for an escape from the Bahraini heat. Charles and Carlos, race suits unzipped around their waists, are animatedly discussing their first day of preseason testing with the SF-24.

“Last year, we didn’t have to sandbag because the car was, well … genuinely that slow,” Charles laughs. “But this time around ...”

Carlos grins, finishing his sentence. “This time, we have an ace up our sleeves.”

You nod, “Just remember, it’s only testing. We still have to see where we truly stand.”

The race weekend finally kicks off and the paddock is full of speculation. After a deliberately unimpressive showing during testing, no one expects Ferrari to be a front-runner.

Yet, when the lights go out, the SF-24 does not just impress …. it dominates. Charles takes P1 with Carlos not far behind in P3. And the world takes notice.

The next few races see a rejuvenated Ferrari. In Saudi Arabia, Charles and Carlos deliver a nail-biting duel with Red Bull, securing a double podium. Australia is a tougher battle, with Mercedes coming to form, but Charles clinches a respectable P4.

The Asian leg of the season has its highs and lows. In Japan, despite a torrential downpour, Charles masterfully handles the wet track to clinch the top step. On the podium, he points up at the sky and then shapes his fingers — first into a one and then a seven — a silent tribute to his late godfather and mentor.

However, China proves challenging and sees the SF-24 struggling unusually with tire degradation. But as Miami approaches, the team regroups and Charles takes a commanding win under the Florida sun.

Then comes Imola, the first of Ferrari’s home races.

As the sun shines brightly over the circuit named after your great-grandfather and grand uncle, you find yourself walking the track alongside Charles. The weight of racing on home soil evident in his eyes.

“Everything okay?” You check, sensing his nervous energy.

He looks at you and taking a deep breath. “Racing in front of the Tifosi at home always feel different. I want to make them proud.”

“No matter what happens today, they will be proud of you. The whole team will be proud of you. We’ve come so far.”

He smiles, visibly lighter. “Then let’s give them a race to remember.”

And it is nothing short of spectacular. Charles starts P2, but with determination and brilliant strategy, he overtakes Max in the final lap and secures a victory for Ferrari on home soil.

The roar of the crowd, the sea of red flags, the tears in Charles’ eyes as he stands atop the podium — you make a promise to never forget this moment.

As the sun sets on Imola, the Scuderia Ferrari team comes together, basking in their victory.

As Charles, champagne-soaked and beaming, pulls you in for a damp hug, it is clearer than ever that this season is only the beginning of a beautiful journey ahead.

***

“Norris is approaching on a flying lap. Make sure not to impede,” Claudio’s voice comes through crisp and clear over the radio during the dying moments of Q3 for the Monaco Grand Prix.

You can practically feel Charles’ concentration from where you’re seated on the Ferrari pit wall. The narrow streets of Monaco leave no room for error … Charles knows this better than most.

“Copy,” Charles responds, adjusting his position on the track just enough to give Lando the space he needs to pass while keeping his own momentum.

The clock is ticking and Charles needs a perfect lap if he wants to clinch pole position.

“Tires are feeling good. Pushing now,” Charles says, rounding the first corner with precision. The SF-24 dances around the iconic circuit, the roar of its engine echoing through the streets.

From Casino Square to the hairpin and through the tunnel, Charles’ driving is flawless. Every apex hit and every corner nailed.

“Final sector, Charles. Make it count,” Claudio encourages.

And he does. Crossing the line and jumping to the top of the timing board.

The garage cheers but there’s no time to waste. Tomorrow’s race is what truly matters.

***

Race day in Monaco is always special, but today, with Charles starting from pole, there’s an electric tension in the air.

“Lights out in ten,” Marit announces over the intercom.

Charles, already in the zone, simply nods.

And then he’s lined up on the front row.

The lights illuminate one by one. Then, in a heartbeat, they go out.

The race is on.

Charles gets a strong start, holding off challengers through the initial turns. The streets of Monaco are notoriously difficult for overtaking, so track position is everything.

“Maintain the pace. Tire management is key,” Claudio advises as the laps progress.

As the race unfolds, strategy becomes crucial.

“Plan to box in two laps,” Marit instructs through Claudio. With with Verstappen close on his tail, everything must be executed perfectly.

The pit stop is lightning-fast, the crew working in synchrony. Charles emerges just ahead of Max, who had followed him into the pits.

Throughout the race, Charles’ skill shines. He manages his tires, navigates the backmarkers, and keeps a razor-sharp focus.

The final laps approach. The team, the spectators, the entire Principality holds its breath.

The chequered flag waves and Charles crosses the finish line to takes his first home win. The elation, the pride, the sheer emotion of the moment is overwhelming.

“Monaco, Charles! You’ve won Monaco!”

Tears in his eyes, Charles responds, voice choked, “We did it! This is for Monaco. This is for Ferrari. Grazie mille. Merci beaucoup.”

The team gathers beneath the podium, celebrating their victory and the hometown here. Charles quickly sprays the two drivers beside him before aiming the bottle at the sea of red cheering in front of him and soaking his team in champagne.

He thinks back to how this weekend ended last season and let’s his elation wash away the years of dejected he faced before.

Things are different now.

***

“I’ve never seen Monaco come alive like this after a win,” you shout over the pulsating music in one of the city’s many upscale clubs.

Charles grins, leaning in closer so you can hear him. “It’s the magic of a home race victory!”

As the night turns to early morning, alcohol flows freer and the laughter grows louder.

The Ferrari team loves any reason to celebrate and they’re certainly making the most of the location.

Charles pulls you to a quieter corner of the VIP section. “Have you ever danced with a Monaco Grand Prix winner?”

You roll your eyes at the attempt at flirting but laugh as you accept his outstretched hand. “There’s a first time for everything.”

The two of you dance, losing track of time.

The world blurs around you. All that matters is the magnetic pull between you two which has been simmering for so long that it is threatening to overflow.

Charles pulls you closer, his lips brushing your ear. “There’s something I’ve been wanting to tell you.”

You relish in the warmth of his breath against your skin. “What’s that?”

“I’m drawn to you,” he admits, eyes searching yours. “Not just because of tonight but ... there’s something between us. I feel it. And I think you do too.”

You swallow hard. “I do.”

He hesitates before wrapping an arm around your waist, “Come with me.”

Without a word, you both exit the club, making your way to his apartment. The air between you is thick with anticipation but also vulnerability … openness.

Once inside, he gently pushes you against the wall, lips crashing onto yours. It’s passionate and intense, like a dam that has been waiting to break.

Charles pulls away slightly, “Are you sure about this?”

“I’ve never been more sure of anything in my life,” you whisper, eyes locked with his. “But ... Charles, not just for tonight. I don’t want this to be just a result of a victory high or the Monaco night air.”

He cups your face, thumb brushing your cheek. “I don’t want that either. This isn’t about the race or the party. It’s about us. I think it’s been about us for a while now.”

“Then why didn’t you say something sooner?”

He chuckles softly. “You think it’s easy, being around you every day, wanting to be close but maintaining a distance for the sake of professionalism? To spend every evening when we’re in Maranello sitting across from you at dinner and wishing that I could call it a date? But tonight,” he pauses, eyes searching yours, “Tonight felt different.”

You waste no time to draw him closer. “No more waiting then.”

***

Canada’s Circuit Gilles Villeneuve echoes with the roar of engines and the cheers of fans. Charles dominates the track, mastering the chicanes and the notorious Wall of Champions.

But the race isn’t straightforward. Mid-race, strategy suddenly changes when an unexpected rain shower soaks the track. However, the new strategy team you’ve brought in makes all the right calls and Charles takes the chequered flag.

In the Spanish sun, it’s a different story. The high-speed corners expose a slight flaw in the SF-24 which leaves Charles fighting valiantly but finishing third.

Despite the setback, you see determination in his eyes. “We’ll get them in Austria,” he promises.

True to his word, at the Red Bull Ring, he dominates. The SF-24 suits the straights and fast corners. Charles takes pole and leads every lap, building a gap that the competition can’t close. The victory feels even sweeter given the circuit’s name.

Silverstone proves challenging. There’s fierce competition, and while Charles doesn’t win, he’s involved in one of the most thrilling wheel-to-wheel battles of the season with Max Verstappen. They exchange positions multiple times, showing pure racing talent. In the end, Charles finishes a proud second after a photo finish.

The Hungarian Grand Prix tests the team. Tire strategy becomes paramount. The SF-24 shows vulnerabilities in the surprisingly sweltering conditions. Still, Charles’ impeccable driving and some cunning strategy calls earn him a place on the podium.

At the Circuit de Spa-Francorchamps, Charles shines brilliantly. He conquers Eau Rouge and Raidillon like few can, making it seem effortless. The SF-24 feels perfectly balanced and he takes another win, smiling at the Ferrari flags waving high in the crowd as the Monegasque and Italian anthems play.

Through it all, you see Charles grow not just as a driver but as a leader and beacon of hope for the team and global fanbase. He is not just driving for himself or for Ferrari, he drives for everyone who believes in him.

***

The warm Italian sun pours golden light onto the expansive villa overlooking Lake Como. The water below sparkles, mirroring the sky. For a brief moment, the hectic world of Formula 1 feels miles away.

You’re lounging under an oversized umbrella, Aperol Spritz in hand, while Charles emerges from the pool, beads of water cascading down his toned physique.

“That swim was perfect,” Charles grins as he flops down beside you.

“You were in there for ages! Trying to turn into a fish?”

He shakes his head like a wet puppy, making you squeal as you try to escape the splashes. “Just preparing for our yacht trip. Besides, I have to burn off all those pasta dinners we’ve been having or else I won’t fit in the car by the end of the month.”

“The troubles of a professional athlete,” you laugh, “I’ve been indulging and I’m not even sorry.”

That evening, the two of you share a quiet moment on the terrace. Soft jazz floats from inside and cicadas buzz rhythmically.

“Remember our first race together?” Charles starts. “It feels like a lifetime ago.”

“I never imagined we’d be here. But I am so glad that we are.”

He meets your gaze, his eyes reflecting the same heat you feel. “Me too. These moments, away from the track with you ... they’re special.”

The following week, you find yourselves on a luxurious yacht off the coast of Sardinia. Charles’ family and both of your friends are aboard. The sun decks echo with laughter, music, and the soft lapping of waves. There is never a quiet moment and you relish in the sounds of happiness.

As you stand by the railing, watching Charles and Joris race each other on jet-skis, Arthur slides up beside you. “So, how’s life with my big brother?”

You laugh, “It’s an adventure every day. But honestly, I wouldn’t change a thing. It’s wonderful. He’s wonderful.”

Arthur nods, “I’ve never seen him this happy, you know?”

You smile warmly, your gaze drifting to where Charles has somehow fallen into the water and is now splashing his friend. “He brings out the best in me, just as I hope I do for him.”

***

The gentle lapping of the Mediterranean waves seems like a distant memory as you find yourself in Zandvoort.

“Quite the change of scenery, isn’t it?” Charles chuckles, standing beside you as the sea breeze of the Dutch coast tousles his hair.

You laugh, “A bit but I’ve missed it. Nothing beats the excitement of a race weekend.”

And what a weekend it was. Charles, against all odds, comes out on top at Max Verstappen’s home race. The Dutch crowd offer begrudging respect as Charles takes the top step.

And then, Monza.

Monza is different. There’s an electricity in the air that cannot be replicated anywhere else. It’s the home race of Ferrari … the cathedral of speed.

“Do you know,” you tell Charles as you both walk through the paddock, “I used to come here with my grandfather as a child. This track ... it’s steeped in history. I’ve always loved it.”

“Winning here was like nothing else I have ever experience,” he reflects. “Let’s do it again. We’ll write our own chapter in history this weekend.”

Qualifying is a nail-biter. Charles pushes the SF-24 to its limits, dancing on the edge of control.

“How are we looking?” Charles checks in.

“You’re on provisional pole,” Claudio responds over the radio. “But push on the last sector. Max is close and getting closer.”

And push he does. Charles clinches pole with a margin that leaves no doubts about the capabilities of both the driver and the car.

Race day, the atmosphere is fever-pitched. The Tifosi, in their sea of red, wave their flags and banners, chanting Charles’ name like a prayer. As the lights go out, the battle rages. The strategy is aggressive, a one-stop that requires Charles to defend position in the latter stages of the race.

“Lap 45. Push now, we need widen this gap,” Claudio instructs.

The tires scream in protest as Charles further carves out a lead. But as the laps tick down, Verstappen and Piastri close in.

“Drive smart and hold them off. Four laps to go. You’ve got this,” Claudio urges him on.

Going wheel-to-wheel with Max through the Ascari chicane, Charles pulls ahead. The Tifosi roar, their energy and sheer will pushing him on.

“Last lap. Bring it home!”

And he does.

As Charles crosses the finish line, the crowd erupts. The track is soon packed with red as fans flood the track, surrounding the podium.

From the sea of faces, one voice stands out — yours, “You did it, Charles. Monza is yours.”

He lifts the trophy high, a tear in his eye, “We did it. This is for Ferrari … for the Tifosi … for us.”

***

The streets of Baku and the lights of Singapore both witness the magic that Charles and the SF-24 weave together. Two more wins, two more steps closer to the championship.

And then you find yourselves in Texas.

“Do you remember this time last year?” Charles asks.

“How could I forget? It was the phone call that changed everything.”

Charles laughs but there’s a weight to it, “For both of us. It was a disaster ... pole to sixth and then the disqualification. All because of...” He doesn’t finish the sentence, the mismanagement of the team a heavy shadow neither of you can forget.

“You’ve grown since then,” you point out gently, “The team has grown. Look at where we are now.”

He nods, taking a deep breath, “One year. So much has changed. From one of the worst days in my racing career to ... this.” Charles gestures around, to the revamped team, the transformed car, the very atmosphere of competence that permeates every corner of the Ferrari garage.

“I can’t believe we’re here,” he whispers, “The championship is within our grasp. Right back where it all went wrong.”

You take a moment to pull out your laptop and open a data sheet, “Here’s the breakdown. If Max gets P2 in both the sprint and the race, you need P1 in both. That’s how we seal the championship this weekend.”

Charles’ eyes scan the spreadsheet, “That’s ... a tall order.”

“But not impossible. Not for you and not for this team,” you assure him.

He chuckles again but it’s brighter now, “With you in my corner? I know anything is possible.”

***

The energy is electric when qualifying day arrives in Austin. You find Charles in his driver’s room, eyes closed in focus as he visualizes the track.

“You ready for this?”

His eyes pop open, determination burning in them. “Ready. Let’s show them what we can do.”

Qualifying unfolds in a blur of fast laps and bated breath. Charles pushes the limits, wrestling the SF-24 around the bumpy circuit.

“Time for one more lap. Give it your all here,” Claudio radioes through.

Jaw set, Charles squeezes all he can from the SF-24. Silence falls as he crosses the line … broken by cheers as his new lap time is set.

Pole position for the second season in a row.

Charles sheds his helmet and rips off his balaclava. “Yes! That’s how we start a weekend!”

The sprint shootout and race similarly see Charles launch cleanly from P1, building a gap early.

“Verstappen is matching your pace, don’t let him get within DRS range,” Claudio advises.

“Copy,” Charles responds, focused.

A late charge from Max raises tensions but Charles keeps him at bay, taking the chequered flag and the eight points.

“That’s the way to do it!” You shout as Charles enters the garage.

“Grand Slam in the sprint, now time for the main event,” he grins.

You rally the team Sunday morning. “Remember, the start is crucial. The car that lines up in P2 has led by the end of lap 1 for five years in a row. We need full focus.”

It seems like barely any time has passed before Charles takes his spot on the grid. Lights out, tires screeching, he holds the lead through the first lap madness.

“Nicely done,” Claudio praises. “Manage those tires now.”

The pit stop strategy is executed flawlessly. Charles takes his second stop, emerging ahead of a charging Verstappen.

“Ten laps remaining,” Claudio counts down.

Charles responds with measured confidence, “Let’s bring it home.”

In the closing laps, he is poetry in motion, hitting each apex and maximizing every straight. Max closes in but Charles is perfect to the millimeter.

“Charles Leclerc,” Claudio’s voice cracks with emotion, “you are the World Champion!”

Eyes wet, Charles radios in, “Yes! Yes! Yes! We did it! Thank you guys! This is unbelievable! Grazie, grazie mille, grazie a tutti! It’s been an incredible season with all of you. This is for the team, for Ferrari, for all the fans, and for everyone who has supported me. We brought it back to Maranello! I’m speechless ... grazie, thank you!”

In the garage, celebrations in full swing, you lean in with a laugh, “Don’t worry, I checked with the FIA — the plank is up to regulation this time.”

Grinning, Charles pulls you into a passionate kiss as the team hoots and hollers around you.

The World Champion smiles so bright he makes the Texan sun look dull in comparison.

You would do anything to make sure he feels like this every season. You will do anything to make sure he feels like this every season.

***

The winter sun casts a warm glow on Maranello as you walk beside Charles into the Ferrari factory. The off-season buzz of activity fills the air as the team prepares for next year’s challenges.

Charles looks at the sleek lines of the new SF-25 with anticipation. “She’s beautiful. I can’t wait to see what she can do.”

“This one’s special. She’ll be fighting for the championship again.”

“Yeah?”

“You heard me right,” you say with a smile. “I made you a promise. Last season was just the beginning.”

As Charles turns for a briefing, you spot Fred across the room. Your relationship has evolved and he now respects the authority you wield for the team’s benefit.

Approaching, you extend a hand. “I wanted to say, you’ve led the team well this past season.”

He grasps it firmly. “We share this success. Thank you for being the catalyst we needed”

You know there will still be challenges ahead. But Ferrari has been reinvigorated. Its racing spirit has been reignited.

That evening, Charles joins you on the terrace of the home you both share when in Maranello and wraps you both in a warm blanket to fight the chill. “Can you believe what a year it’s been?”

You shake your head. “It’s been a dream.”

He pulls you close. “The dream is just beginning and it’s a dream I hope we never wake up from.”

[scary-grace]

hands-off, hands-on - a shigaraki x f!reader fic

This was inspired by this art and a comment left on it about the risks of trying to jerk off with a quirk like Decay. It was also inspired by @obsessedtomone and @scarlettcryptid, who encouraged me to write it and then to post it. The pun in the title was my idea and not their fault.

Shigaraki's quirk makes life difficult in a lot of ways, but there's only one he can't find a way around, and since you joined the League of Villains, it's gotten even worse. When the truth comes out at last, he's expecting it to be a disaster and nothing else. He definitely isn't expecting you to offer to help. (cross-posted to Ao3) Canonverse, one-shot, smut.

Shigaraki Tomura’s quirk is everything to him. It’s how he found himself alone in the world as a five-year-old, even if he can’t remember the details. It’s why Sensei took an interest in him, why Sensei took him in, why Sensei chose him to carry on his work. It’s the perfect tool for someone like Shigaraki, who hates everything, who wants nothing more than to destroy everything he doesn’t like. Decay is the best thing that’s ever happened to Shigaraki. And at the same time, it absolutely, categorically sucks.

Shigaraki might hate everything, but he doesn’t hate it all the time, and the times when he doesn’t hate it are times when he’d love to be able to just have whatever it is without being one wrong move away from ruining it. Name a thing he likes, and his quirk is ready and waiting to fuck it up �� gaming, eating, sleeping, even reading the fucking newspaper. He can do all those things four-fingered, if he stays focused. It’s the stuff he can’t stay focused on that’s impossible.

He can’t stay focused when he’s horny, at least not enough to keep from potentially Decaying his dick off. Shigaraki doesn’t actually know if his quirk works on himself, and he’s not interested in finding out. And that means that no matter how horny Shigaraki gets or how many poorly timed boners he pops, jerking off is permanently off the table.

That’s not to say Shigaraki’s never finished. He has. He’s spent so much time humping pillows that he had to learn to do his own laundry. But there’s something really pathetic about being twenty years old with two working hands and still be stuck grinding on a pillow to make himself come, and it always takes so stupidly long. Now that Shigaraki’s got the League of Villains, now that he’s got plans to make and Sensei’s legacy to fulfill, he doesn’t have that kind of time. When he wakes up with the world’s worst morning wood after a dream he doesn’t remember clearly, there’s nothing he can do but wait for it to go away.

It fades – enough – but the feeling doesn’t, and eventually Shigaraki doesn’t have a choice but to drag himself out of bed. He slinks from his room to the bar, hoping it’ll be empty, with the rest of the League out and about preparing for the mission and Kurogiri somewhere nearby if Shigaraki needs him but not actually right there to ask him what’s bothering him. Shigaraki can pour his own drinks. Maybe he can get out of this if he gives himself whiskey dick on purpose. Kurogiri’s not in the bar, just like he was hoping, but it’s not empty, either. You’re there, sprawled out over the bar with a sweating glass of water on a coaster in front of you.

Shigaraki’s jaw clenches at the sight. “What are you doing here?” he demands, and you look up. “Don’t you have something to do?”

“I did it already.” You yawn. “Using my quirk tires me out.”

“Really?” Shigaraki can’t keep the irritation out of his voice. “Making people stupid is that exhausting?”

Your quirk is a weird one. It lets you increase or decrease a target’s ability to plan, reason, problem-solve, remember things, and learn – in other words, their intelligence. “From this distance, for as many people as you need me to hit?” You yawn again and drop your head back down to the bar. “Yeah. Remember, I have to keep them all being stupid the same way, right up until it’s too late. Or your plan won’t work.”

Shigaraki had the pieces of the plan before he made you use your quirk on him, but once you used the quirk on him, he did some fine-tuning on the strategy, and he came up with the idea of using your quirk the opposite way, too. While the rest of the League is planning to make the attack on UA’s summer training camp a success, you’re using your quirk every day on the heroes in charge of planning the camp itself. Shigaraki’s not actually going to know if it works until after the attack, and that pisses him off. “Go nap somewhere else, then.”

“I’m not going to bother you,” you say. “Where else am I supposed to go, anyway? Your room?”

Shigaraki’s this close to saying yes, just to get you to leave, before he remembers what his room looks like – and remembers that he spent a while trying to see if grinding one out would work this time. He can’t kick you out of the hideout. You look like shit, and you’ll attract a lot of attention. “Fine. Shut up.”

“Yep.” You fold your arms on the bar and rest your head on them, shutting your eyes.

Even when you aren’t looking at him or talking, your presence bothers Shigaraki. It’s bothered him since the beginning – as much as he’s bothered by the others, in a different way than he’s bothered by the others. While the others can at least manage to avoid pissing Shigaraki off, there’s nothing you do that doesn’t cause some kind of problem. If you’re talking to him too much, he’s annoyed because he doesn’t know why you’re talking to him. If you’re not talking to him, he’s pissed about that, too. If you’re not around, he’s mad that you’re avoiding him, and if you are around, he wishes you weren’t. The fact that you’re here was a big problem for him even before he started having the dreams.

Shigaraki can’t remember the details of last night’s dream, but he knows you were in it. He pours himself a drink, takes the bottle with him, and sits down at the far end of the bar from you. You don’t look up again, and Shigaraki finishes his first drink, then half of his second, with no improvement on the situation. He shifts on the barstool, trying to get more comfortable. He needs to find something else to do. Something that will distract him from how stupidly horny he is.

You’re right there, and being irritated with you for doing anything at all is as good a distraction as anything else. “If all you’re doing is making a couple of heroes slightly dumber, you’re not really pulling your weight, are you?”

You don’t stir, but Shigaraki sees your shoulders stiffen. “What else should I be doing?”

“More,” Shigaraki says. You lift your head to look at him dead on, and Shigaraki hates that so much that he loses his train of thought for a second. “I don’t want them slightly dumber. I want them so stupid they can’t walk in a straight line. You have to get closer to them for that? So get closer. Get out of here and –”

“If I make them that stupid, the heroes will know that something’s wrong,” you interrupt. “My quirk’s in the government databases. If I do anything too obvious, they’ll know I’m working with you, and they’ll change their plans. Or they’ll change who they’re using to execute those plans. For my quirk to work on someone, I need to know who they are.”

Shigaraki knows how your quirk works. He’s not stupid. “I could do what you want me to do, but it would ruin your plans,” you say. “I don’t want to do that.”

“Then what do you want?”

“I wanted to take a nap,” you say. You sit up straight on your stool, get to your feet and start towards Shigaraki. “Now I want to know what I did to piss you off.”

You’re coming closer. Shigaraki feels a surge of panic. “Get away from me.”

“No.” You sit down one barstool away from Shigaraki, but still way too close for comfort. Shigaraki’s skin feels hot, and in spite of the fact that he left his room wearing sweatpants, they’re getting tight. “You let me join the League, but ever since I got here, I can’t do anything right. You’re mad at me all the time, and today you’re even madder than usual.”

“No, I’m not.”

“Yes, you are,” you say. You keep staring. Shigaraki looks away, and you say the first thing he’s ever heard you say that makes you sound like a villain. “Either you can tell me the truth, or I’ll use my quirk on myself and figure it out.”

Shigaraki’s stomach lurches. “I thought you were too tired to use your quirk.”

“Not on myself,” you say. Shigaraki glances back at you. You’re almost smiling. He’s seen you smile before, talking to Toga or Magne, but not like that. “You can tell me, or I’ll find out on my own. Your choice.”

You’re not screwing around. Shigaraki thinks fast. He could Decay you, but – Shigaraki writes off the thought before he can even complete it. He has to tell you something, and it has to be convincing. But he doesn’t have to tell you everything to keep you from using your quirk. It’s going to be humiliating, but nowhere close to as humiliating as the whole truth, and he opens his mouth and spits it out. “I’m horny.”

You blink. “So jerk off.”

“I can’t.” Shigaraki sees your eyebrows lift, skeptical as hell, and loses patience, even as his face heats up. “My quirk. Anything I touch with five fingers –”

“And you can’t jerk off without –” You break off mid-question, looking just as uncomfortable as Shigaraki feels. “So you’ve never –”

“No, I have, I just –” This is way more information than you need to know. Shigaraki grits his teeth. “You wanted an answer. There’s your answer. Leave me alone.”

You don’t leave Shigaraki alone. You actually move over onto the stool next to his. “So you’re just going to be a dick to me any time you’re horny.”

It’s your fault Shigaraki’s horny. Before you showed up, he could deal with things on his own, but now instead of videos and games to fixate on he has fantasies – because he can imagine about what you’d look like under him, what you’d sound like, what you’d feel like. All of which are the worst possible things for Shigaraki to be thinking about right now. He’s completely hard, again. Maybe you can tell, or maybe you’re using your quirk on him after all, because you’re making a really weird face. “If you’re going to be a dick any time you’re horny –”

You break off. Shigaraki thinks, fleetingly, about Decaying you. At this point he’d rather Decay himself, because if even he kills you, he’ll still have to remember that this happened. You take a deep breath, let it go. “Do you want help?”

Shigaraki’s mind blue-screens for a second. “What?”

“If this is why you’re like this, then it’s easy to fix,” you repeat. Your hands are clenched into fists on your thighs, and you slowly uncurl them. “Do you want me to help?”

“Help with what?”

“Jerking off,” you say. You make an awkward gesture, and every muscle in Shigaraki’s body goes tense as he imagines your hands around his cock. You have to be messing with him. There’s no way you’re actually offering – that. “Yes or no?”

“Yes.” Shigaraki finishes his drink and stands up before he can think any more about it. He grimaces as his cock strains against the fabric of his pants, and feels a surge of embarrassment when he realizes you’re looking at it – but it’ll be over soon. In the face of getting some, and getting it from you, nothing else matters. “Let’s go.”

Shigaraki’s nerves kick in on the walk back to his room. Not enough to make the hard-on he’s coping with fade even slightly, but enough to remind him that this is probably a bad idea. But you’re following him, and you haven’t changed your mind. Shigaraki’s not chickening out first. The nerves get worse when he opens the door to his room and realizes what a mess it is. “Uh –”

“Where do you usually sit?” You don’t look impressed – or disgusted, now that Shigaraki thinks about it. “On the bed?”

Shigaraki sits down on the bed – which he didn’t make, because he never makes it – and you sit down next to him. You don’t do anything. “I thought you were going to help me.”

“Show me what you do,” you say. Shigaraki stares at you. His heart is racing, his pulse hammering so hard that he feels it everywhere. “Go as far as you can, and then I’ll keep doing what you do.”

That makes sense, probably. Shigaraki’s mind is startling to scramble. He decides to think about it later and catches the hem of his shirt, hiking it up and out of the way. He knows from experience that it’ll slide back, so he pins it between his teeth and reaches down to his waistband, shoving at it until his pants are down around his thighs and his cock is free.

His hard-on looks like it feels. Uncomfortable, leaking, hot to the touch when he wraps three fingers and his thumb around his shaft. Shigaraki tries a few of the same insufficient strokes as always and feels the muscles in his abdomen and thighs clench. It’s not enough. It’s never enough. A frustrated sound edges out around the fabric in Shigaraki’s mouth. Aren’t you supposed to help him? He looks at you. You’re looking away.

“Hey,” Shigaraki says, the hem of the shirt falling from his mouth, and you look at him. “You wanted to help. Pay attention.”

Your face is flushed. You nod, and you reach out – but only so you can grasp the hem of Shigaraki’s shirt and pull it out of the way again, your knuckles brushing over his abdomen in a way that makes him twitch. You’re sitting closer to him now than you were before, close enough that he can almost feel the heat of your body, and imagine how it would feel to have you pressed against him. One of your hands is holding his shirt up. The other comes to rest on his lower abdomen, fingertips brushing through his hair, centimeters away from the base of his cock.

Shigaraki squirms involuntarily, trying to move your hand lower and jeopardizing his own strokes at the same time. Even when he lifts his hips to meet his own hand, he can’t lose control the way he wants to, can’t chase the feeling he needs. He needs it. He needs it and he’s never come even close to having it, until now. Shigaraki tries to focus. You’re only going to help once he’s gone as far as he can, so he’d better get there as fast as possible.

He shouldn’t have told you to pay attention. Now you’re watching everything, your face still flushed and your eyes glued to Shigaraki’s every move, taking everything in. Do you like this? Do you like watching Shigaraki’s pathetic attempts to get himself off? Whether you like it or not, you’re still touching him when you don’t have to. Shigaraki’s fingers tighten involuntarily around his cock, his fourth finger almost coming down, and he loosens up in a hurry. But that’s no good, either. He tries again.

It’s the same as always. Shigaraki makes it one or two strokes before it gets dangerous, enough to show him what he could have and not enough to get him there. He’s sweaty and his heart is beating too hard and the same frustrated tears as always are stinging his eyes. He curses, lets go – and a warm hand slides between his legs to replace his.

Shigaraki almost comes on the spot. It takes every ounce of willpower he has, and he almost blows it again as he watches you adjust your hold on him, shaping your hand more closely around his cock. You’re slow about it, but you sure as hell aren’t hesitant. Shigaraki can’t look for longer than a few strokes. It’s too humiliating to see the intensity of his own reaction, precum oozing from the tip of his cock and his hips jerking upwards into your hand. He clenches his jaw and shuts his eyes.

“Hey. Pay attention.” Are you making fun of him? Shigaraki opens his eyes and finds you looking at him. “I need to know if I’m doing it right.”

“What do you think?” Shigaraki forces the words out through gritted teeth. “Do you need me to tell you you’re doing a good job or something?”

“That might be nice,” you muse. Your hold on him loosens slightly – not enough to complain about, more than enough to read as a threat. “Since I can’t do anything else right around here, I at least want to be good at getting you off.”

Your grip tightens again, and you run your thumb lightly over the tip of Shigaraki’s cock at the end of the next stroke. Shigaraki couldn’t pull a move like that if his fucking life depended on it, which it would. He was going to tell you not to ask stupid questions, like if you’re good at getting him off when he’s two seconds away from blowing his load all over himself, but instead he moans, so loudly that people can probably hear it two streets away. You replay the same stroke, slower this time, pulling Shigaraki’s back into an arch to match the upward motion of your hand, and then you spend a few seconds just toying with his tip, barely touching him at all.

Are you trying to make him squirm? Shigaraki hates that it’s working, hates that you won’t just give him what he needs – but then you’re back to stroking his cock again, and Shigaraki relaxes, as much as it’s possible to relax. It feels good, even better than he thought it would. And even better than that, because he doesn’t have to do anything. All he has to do is sit back and enjoy it.

“Hold your shirt up,” you say, and Shigaraki grabs it clumsily. Your now-free hand traces quickly down Shigaraki’s chest, along his stomach, skidding sideways over his hip before sliding between his legs. There’s not room for both of your hands. Shigaraki spreads his legs without thinking twice.

You make a weird sound – maybe a gasp. “Stop that,” you say, but now you’re cradling his balls in addition to stroking his cock, so Shigaraki’s not interested in stopping much of anything. “It’s working.”

No shit it’s working. Shigaraki’s entire body is wound tight, so much that he can’t even twitch or thrust or squirm – all he can do is strain, agonizingly tense, every atom of his body focused on the motion of your hands. Shigaraki squeezes his eyes shut. His shirt crumbles away as he claws at it, the sheets on his bed going the same way a second later as he fights to ground himself. He needs more. Shigaraki needs to come right now, before he grabs onto something he can’t replace.

The word struggles out of his mouth sideways, twisted and strained just like the rest of him. “Please –”

You don’t answer him, but Shigaraki feels you shift closer to him. He opens his eyes and you’re right there, close enough that he can feel your breath against his skin. You’re watching him, head tilted, lips parted, so close. Shigaraki’s so close, and he needs more from you. He seizes the front of your shirt to pull you down to him, only for it to Decay when you’re halfway there. But Shigaraki gets lucky. You lean in the rest of the way and press your lips against his.

It’s not because of that. Shigaraki’s coming hard enough to see stars, hard enough that he blacks out for a second, but it’s not because you’re kissing him. His cum spills everywhere, onto his sweatpants and his stomach and over your fingers, and you keep stroking him with slick hands. You don’t pull away until Shigaraki’s whining against your mouth and you’ve drawn out every drop of cum he has to give.

And then you sit back, and let go, and look away. “I need a new shirt.”

You’re sitting next to him, on his bed, in just your bra. The sight would get Shigaraki hard again in an instant if you hadn’t just made him come hard enough to disconnect his spine. He raises a shaky hand and points to his hoodie, slung over the back of his computer chair, but you don’t go for it. Instead you get up and head to the bathroom to wash your hands.

Shigaraki needs to wash everything. His sweatpants, himself – the stupid mattress, since he was dumb enough to Decay the sheets off it right before he blew what feels like the biggest load in history. What else was he supposed to do, though? No way was he going to be able to control himself while you worked him over. No way is he going to be able to think about anything else the next time he sees you do anything with your hands. Or with your mouth.

It occurs to Shigaraki vaguely that while he’s solved the initial problem of being too horny to function, he’s set himself up for something even worse – more dreams, made all the more vivid because he’s got experience to back them up. He might be good to go for now. Probably for the rest of the day, since it’ll be a miracle if he can do anything other than clean up and take a nap. But he’ll be right back where he started the next time he wakes up from another dream about you.

The water from the sink shuts off, and a moment later you come back out, snagging Shigaraki’s hoodie off the chair and pulling it on over your bra. Shigaraki feels a faint twinge of foreboding at the sight, but it fades fast. Sure, he could wake up tomorrow morning with the boner from hell and it’ll be all your fault. But now he’s got a way out of it, and the way out of it is so good that what it takes to get there barely even matters. And he’s in a good enough mood to admit to himself that you do things right a lot more than you do things wrong.

Which reminds him – “Hey,” Shigaraki says, still humiliatingly breathless, and you pause in the act of pulling the hood up. “You did a good job.”

He might still be out of breath, but your face is still flushed. “Good,” you say, and you turn to leave. Shigaraki doesn’t hear you speak again until you’re already out the door. “Next time I’ll do better.”

Better might kill him. Next time. Shigaraki pulls up his sweatpants so his dick isn’t hanging out, makes no other effort at cleaning up, and falls asleep with something that feels like a smile on his face.

[gladiatorcunt]

hey ryn!!!!! sooo i saw this (nsfw link incoming)

https://x.com/sexarchiv/status/1736871466501648453

and was desperate to hear your thoughts on this w patrick +++ art watching

love you love you🎖️💕

hi!!!!! i’m sorry this is so late but i went crazy over the link and art does a lil more than watch but i hope you like it 💘💘💘

cw: 18+ mdni, art and patrick make out during this (nsfw twt link), implied sub reader / switch patrick / dom art, one use of daddy, gross patrick who whines a lot, art being lowkey possessed by tashi (he’s on something in this one), nipple play (?), teasing, unedited

It’s a quiet night in with your boyfriends, there’s left over pizza in the fridge and the roku city background on the tv casts a soft purple glow over your shared bedroom. You’re too tired to get changed, the three of you lounge on the king sized bed in various states of undress. It’s supposed to snow during the night, so there’s just a sort of cozy vibe in the air. You really weren’t intending on being intimate with your boyfriends for the rest of the day, but absentminded strokes up Patrick’s sweaty torso quickly turn into palming his thick bulge in his boxers. Patrick softly groans, squirming and spreading his legs to give you better access.

Art slips his hand into his matching set of briefs and pumps his dick to hardness, synching his strokes up with yours. He shuffles up the bed to lie down right next to Patrick, using one arm to move Patrick to lay back against him. Art leans his head on Patrick’s, ready to tease and whisper whenever he sees him getting sensitive. Patrick automatically puckers his lips for a kis but Art cruelly denies him, not wanting to distract the other man from your touches. Somehow your hand manages to look small in comparison to Patrick’s girth, and Art squeezes his balls as he imagines it around his own length.

“He’s gonna cum too fast.” Art says, knowing that you don’t take control with Patrick like he does, but goading you on regardless.

“You just feel so good, ‘s not my fault.” Patrick moans as your thumb circles around his pinkish red cock head.

You dip your nail into the slit and lean down to let some of your saliva slowly drip down onto his aching cock. With the added lube, you pump your hand a few more times and put your wrist into it. You’re so lost in the deep groans coming from above you and seeing his pretty cock somehow pull off looking like it’s on the verge of tears that you almost forget that there’s an end goal to all of this. You’re just so in love and in actual awe of how gorgeous a dick can be, Patrick’s nastier overall but it only makes his cock look even better.

The tip is glistening and you peck it a couple times, grinning at the tiny beads of precum that trickle out of his slit. Art reflexively licks his lips and thumbs his own head, just enoying his partners playing with each other and being more than very appreciative of his favorite show. The atmosphere is so sleepy and relaxed that not many words are being spoken. It’s most a flurry of soft grunts, whines, and sweet nothings that are lost to the white noise from different sources around you.

“Go ahead and make daddy cum while I give him kisses, ‘kay?” Art coos, more at Patrick than you as he tilts his chin up with one finger and softly presses their lips together.

The kiss soon turns into a frenzied slide of their lips, swapping so much spit that their tongues actually hardly touch. You squeeze your thighs together before going back to what you were doing, trying your hardest to not cum on the spot because of them. You push your shirt down just under your tits, hissing as a rush of cold air hits your already hard and sensitive nipples. Patrick jumps like he’s been shot when you lower your full tits to brush against his weeping cock, circling your thumb around the head and tracing a vein or two.

He whines into his kiss with Art as you lower yourself even further to press your nipple into his tip. He stops being an active participation in the makeout session, too preoccupied with the teasing touch of your nipple gliding up and down his cock head. Something about your nipples being so small but so soft to the touch, getting him so worked up over the tiniest bit of flesh. It’s a feeling that’s akin to circling a vibrator around his length, but your nipples ghosting along his dick make him want to sob. He relases a symphony of broken sounds into Art’s lips, softly spoken and inhuman.

You grip the base of Patrick’s cock, holding it steady as you gingerly move your nipple up and down the tip. You take your time to really press it in deep, squishing it a bit as you force it all around him. This has you ready to cum too, the chilly air combined with how wet Patrick’s cock is sets your brain on fire, but you’re not about to have to clean your panties and be embarrassed. Art’s right, it doesn’t take much of you dragging your nipples over his slit and around his puffy tip before he’s oozing all over your hand and tits. You work him through his quick orgasm, slowing down the speed of your nipple and moving to drag it along his entire length now.

You even circle it around his balls, heartbreakingly slow but you’re not trying to make him blow his load again. Art soothes Patrick through his twitching, if the wet smacks of lazy french kisses are anything to go by.

You look up to see Art give you a two finger ‘come here’ gesture, and when you’ve crawled back up the bed to join them, you notice how damp his underwear is. Art pulls you into their kiss and drags your sticky hand to cover his soaked bulge, keeping it there as you spend no time rushing this languid embrace with your boyfriends. Before you know it they’ll be back on the court and all they’ll have time for is near bloody quickies in your shower until they head back out to practise.

Art hums, lifting his hand to pet you and Patrick, sucking both of your tongues and giggling at the whimpers you let out.

“It’s my turn now, hm?”