#it does not reach its full potential AT ALL

[impending-day]

oh my god sinclairs tears of the tarnished blood ego what if i kms

his little stabby deelies are all in his wings thhrbrmfnfbmmghgrhgrgrr. hong lus is thru his chest but sinclair?? in the wings. no flying yet. not ready to soar. something still holds him back from reaching his "full potential"

also id like to note one specific feature.

does it remind you of anything? it reminds me of something. personally.

okay its the wrong limb but like you see where im going with this right. theyre so fucked up. fucked up employees at project moon whom i shall battle against. btw hong lus does Not have the hands its just a sinclair thing!!!! fucked up and evil!!!!!!!!!

also his hurt sprite is actually so awful how could. they do this to me. im miserable. im fucking miserable hes covering his eyes. im gonna fucking kill myself and its this egos fault

[tifa-simp]

Do I have lots of expectations for Tifa in part 3? Absolutely!

Do I have high hope for the game? Nah~

[theblob1958]

I’m sure you’ve said them but your thoughts on exactly why Grace thought she loved Nick enough to marry him and then only liked her marriage when she could live at home with Frankie and only have to see him periodically? #enabling

The thing you all have to understand is that canonically, the main reason Grace married Nick is because she was fighting with Frankie. A huge fight that led her to think she didn't need Frankie in her life anymore, that Grace may have needed her after the Gay-Divorce event but now that they're both past that, it's time to move on. And Nick saw how sad and angry Grace was after this fight and wanted to cheer her up (his heart was in the right place), so they went and got married, a marriage Grace immediately starts to regret, realizing that she wants Frankie to always have a place in her life, and that place is right at Grace's side. That they make each other the best versions of who they are ("The real me, the me when I'm with you").

Now, this is all canon events, stuff that happens right there on your screen, no extrapolation required. Grace needed someone to fill the Frankie sized hole she thought she was going to have in her life, so she chooses Nick and a husband and knew it was wrong before even 24 hours pass. Because, well, her first person will always be Frankie. And when she tries to put Nick first, it never feels good and never works out and turns her into someone she doesn't want to be. But she tries making marriage work, tries to be a wife again, but then she gets the perfect out. A win-win situation, where she can have her cake and eat it too. She gets to move back in with Frankie, spend 23 hours of the day with her and the other hour she can spend with Nick. It's just what she always wanted; her hour with Nick doesn't interrupt her time with Frankie. It's once again GraceandFrankie, with Nick all the way out of the picture except for regulated, hour long visits deprived of true emotional and physical connection.

This set up is perfect because Grace doesn't have to confront what's staring her in the face just yet, can still hold onto the rules of life she's trying to live by. Where women like her should have a husband, or a boyfriend, or at least a man in their lives. That doesn't work for Grace, though, doesn't give her what she needs, forces her to contort and transform herself in Wife or Girlfriend when all she wants to be is Grace, and maybe GraceandFrankie.

Soon, she'll have to face the music and admit she doesn't want men in her life anymore, that she just wants Frankie. To live with, and spend time with, and love, and be loved back. With Nick in prison, she can still have plausible deniability, still get to live by The Rules, still be in denial about what she wants ("And I like that. Sometimes too much").

It's safe and easy and (now this is where my own interpretations come into play) allows Grace to sit comfortably in her repression. She isn't a lesbian because of course she's not, not when she loves her distant, unavailable husband in prison, all while getting to live with her girl best friend, and work with her, and have the deepest and most meaningful emotional connection with her.

She gets to have Frankie, and she gets to have Nick, and everyone is happy (maybe not Nick but that doesn't matter to Grace). It works perfectly, until Nick comes to live with them and Grace realizes there's no room for Nick in her life anymore, all the roles filled by Frankie. Then Grace's arc culminates into her accepting the only thing that matters is her and Frankie and their relationship that transcends all boundaries of friendship and love and family. That it's her and Frankie until the end, no 3rd party needed. And that's what this show has always been working towards.

Or, short answer: Grace Hanson is a lesbian.

[nimomo-mo]

vent

[eraserbread]

nanami's not about to fight with u... he's just gonna show u who you truly belong to. read part 1 for context

"i'm not fighting with you, just get on your knees."

"ken, we have a houseful of guests-

he's shaking his head, tugging his zipper in a fateful swoop. you don't lie and say you weren't buzzing with the idea of what he'd do next, but it felt so wrong. now was not the time to be getting him off.

"i won't repeat myself." then his pants are down and he's easing his already-flushed cock from its confines. he's rubbing himself to his full potential right in front of you, so comfortable with you standing in front of him, wide-eyed and nervous.

luckily your kitchen is closed off from the rest of the house, but it's not completely closed. someone could easily pop their head into the arched entryway and see everything you're seeing. deep down you know kento wouldn't let that happen. he has the awareness of an anxious cat, so you trust him enough to get on your knees, crawling to close the distance between you two.

"i'm doing this because domination tends to make you mild-mannered," he explains briefly, voice tinged with a hint of arousal. "and that's what I need from you right now. do you understand?"

"mhm." you reply, looking up at him with silent doe-eyes. from this angle at his feet, he looks so much bigger. daunting and familiar. so beautiful... and all yours.

"relax your throat." he demands just before taking a handful of your hair and guiding you down the length of him. he's not easy to take in the slightest - your jaw burns, eyes screwed shut as you try to swallow back a gag.

then, a thunderous bout of laughter erupts from the other room and you fold -- gagging and choking all over his pretty cock.

he yanks you backward, face screwed up in distaste. "what did I just tell you?"

"'m sorry." you whine as he smushes your lips with his tip.

"if satoru walks in here and sees you like this, i will be extremely upset."

"'m sorry." you repeat, genuinely sorry and just wanting him inside of you again. he's barely gracing your lips, but every atom in your body is screaming for him. if you thought satoru was charming five minutes ago, you didn't even know who he was now. all you want is your husband.

"him and his righteous savior complex.. makes me sick." he mutters, mostly to himself. he has two big hands on either side of your head, squeezing like only he can. it's been too long together, he knows you're not a china doll.

so, he fucks your limp throat like he hates you, eye twitching as he watches your face go more flushed with each mean thrust he's delivering. you've never taken him like this, feeling the drippy tip of his cock at the base of your throat, giving you goosebumps all around his touch. you've never felt closer to him, yet so pained by every one of his movements.

it's like your entire mind goes limp. etched with scrawling versions of his name only. he's you can think about, all you can taste...

only when he's finally done and marked your stomach with his seed, does he help you up with a strong hand, just holding you close for a second until yours stops shaking.

he doesn't say a word, just watching your eyes as they stare back at him expressionless but teary and bloodshot nonetheless. he leans forward and kisses your forehead.

"sorry. you know i'll always love you."

you nod, because... yeah. same. that makes him smile.

and he guides you back to your party holding your hand, watching out for you as you take the seat next to satoru back. it's like he doesn't even notice your presence, he's far too preoccupied teasing utahime about some nameless story from the past.

once the party has concluded and kento is seeing them all out, does satoru stop and say something.

"poor, little nanami..." satoru stops just before he reaches the first step past the front door. ken regards him with a nod, leaning against the doorframe. "this is what happens when the lamb chooses a wolf."

"do i even want you to explain?"

satoru shrugs him off, throwing up in hand as a curt goodbye as he turns around. "she's too nice. it's sad to know you yelled at her... she was all teary-eyed and mellow for the rest of the night."

kento turns around, chuckling to himself as he finally shuts the front door. reveling in the quiet comfort of his home he thinks:

ha. did much more than make her cry...

[wizardysseus]

On Friday, the president signed yet another Executive Order, this time directly targeting funds allocated to libraries and museums nationwide. The Institute of Museum and Library Services (IMLS) is a federal agency that distributes fund approved by Congress to state libraries, as well as library, museum, and archival grant programs. IMLS is the only federal agency that provides funds to libraries. The Executive Order states that the functions of the IMLS have to be reduced to “statutory functions” and that in places that are not statutory, expenses must be cut as much as possible. [...] The department has seven days to report back, meaning that as soon as this Friday, March 21, 2025, public libraries–including school and academic libraries–as well as public museums could see their budgets demolished.

Actionable items from the article:

Sign the petition at EveryLibrary to stop Trump’s Executive Order seeking to gut the IMLS then share it with your networks.

Write a letter to each of your Senators and to your Representative at the federal level. You can find your Senators here and your Representative here. All you need to say in this letter is that you, a resident of their district, demand they speak up and defend the budget of IMLS. Include a short statement of where and how you value the library, as well as its importance in your community. This can be as short as “I use the library to find trusted sources of information, and every time I am in there, the public computers are being used by a variety of community members doing everything from applying for jobs to writing school papers. Cutting the funds for libraries will further harm those who lack stable internet, who cannot afford a home library, and who seek the opportunities to engage in programming, learning, enrichment, and entertainment in their own community. Public libraries help strengthen reading and critical thinking skills for all ages.” In those letters, consider noting that the return on investment on libraries is astronomical. You can use data from EveryLibrary.

Call the offices of each of your Senators and Representatives in Congress. Yes, they’ll be busy. Yes, the voice mails will be full. KEEP CALLING. Get your name on the record against IMLS cuts. Do this in addition to writing a letter. If making a call creates anxiety, use a tool like 5 Calls to create a script you can read when you reach a person or voice mail.

Though your state-level representatives will not have the power to impact what happens with IMLS, this is your time to reach out to each of your state representatives to emphasize the importance of your state’s public libraries. Note that in light of potential cuts from the federal government, you advocate for stronger laws protecting libraries and library workers, as well as stronger funding models for these institutions.

Show up at your next public library meeting, either in person at a board meeting or via an email or letter, and tell the library how much it means to you. In an era where information that is not written down and documented simply doesn’t exist, nothing is more crucial than having your name attached to some words about the importance of your public library. This does not need to be genius work–tell the library how you use their services and how much they mean to you as a taxpayer.

Tell everyone you know what is at stake. If you’ve not been speaking up for public institutions over the last several years, despite the red flags and warnings that have been building and building, it is not too late to begin now. EveryLibrary’s primer and petition is an excellent resource to give folks who may be unaware of what’s going on–or who want just the most important information.

[trashytracktales]

Poking the bear | OB⁸⁷

🧸 summary ──── They say poking the bear never ends well, but after Ollie’s incident at the Brazilian Grand Prix, both him and his girlfriend find out that silence hurts more than anger.

🧸 pairing ──── Oliver Bearman x she/her reader

🧸 rating ──── mature

🧸 warnings ──── 16+, angst, emotional distress, description of racing incidents, passive-aggressive arguments, guilt and vulnerability, implied sexual content.

🧸 word count ──── 3k

🧸 date ──── May 28, 2025

🧸 a/n ──── Had this idea tap dancing in my head since Brazil 2024. It came back in my dream last night. I cleared my schedule so I can write a quickie. Enjoy 💋

📍 São Paulo Grand Prix, 2024

“OFF THE ROAD into the tarmac runoff for Oliver Bearman!” the commentator’s voice cuts sharp through the rain static on the broadcast.

It’s Sunday at Interlagos, and the weather tests everybody’s nerves. The skies are heavy and grey, brooding with thunderclouds that haven’t stopped spilling for hours. The asphalt has a darker shade, smoother, but far from forgiving; it offers little grip and even less predictability. Where there should be confidence in traction, there’s second-guessing and white-knuckled steering.

On-screen, the Haas is already facing the wrong direction, half-stranded in the runoff at Turn 10, its tires carving muddy streaks through the damp tarmac. With worn inters and a gust of crosswind hitting off the Senna S complex, it just snapped under braking, enough to slide, to lock up, to go straight off and miss the corner entirely.

Because that’s what rain does: punishes the smallest errors. And the lack of experience becomes a curse rather than an excuse.

Inside the cockpit, Oliver’s first reaction is confusion, his brain trying to make sense of what just happened. All it took was a fraction of a second, and the car pirouetted like it had a mind of its own. His heart jumps into his throat in an instant and, luckily, the young driver manages to keep it out of the wall, just barely. As the adrenaline fades, disappointment crashes in like a wave, forcing him to grip the steering wheel, only to give him the impression that he’s still got something to hold on to.

In the garage, the helplessness of his error settles into her chest. “No,” she breathes sharply, hand flying to her mouth instinctively.

The camera shifts from the replay of the spin to her. She’s standing by the monitors, arms crossed so tightly around herself now that it looks like she’s holding herself together by force. Her eyes are wide, and she is visibly horrified. She doesn’t blink as she stares at the screen, like if she looks away, something worse than that might happen.

Next to her, Oliver’s father reaches out gently, placing a comforting arm around her shoulder. His voice is calm, as he tells her something that the cameras aren’t able to pick up, but she nods stiffly, agreeing with the man, even though her body doesn’t seem to relax one bit. She’s not the kind to show her panic so publicly, never was. However, everything happened too fast for her mind to process, and now her nails are digging little crescents moons into her arms, and the camera captures it all.

She’s aware that the world is watching — she feels like throwing up the second she sees herself on the monitor — but at this point it doesn’t matter. The only thing that matters is her Ollie.

As if summoned, his radio is displayed next in the right-hand corner of the screen.

“I’m such an idiot, man,” his voice comes through strained, full of self-loathing. For a little while, there is no response from Slade. Just the deafening static, his heavy breathing, and the weight of his disappointment that hangs between the words.

That’s what breaks her the most, not the spin. Not the fact that he lost so much ground or that he deprived the team of a potential finish in the points. Hearing him so defeated and unforgiving of himself, like he’s not allowed a single mistake in the same conditions where even the most experienced drivers are put to the test, it’s impossible for her to make peace with.

What’s worse is that she knows there are hours that separate her from him after the race is over, and she won’t be able to beat some sense into his pretty head that will for sure overthink every single second of his mistakes.

Two and a half, to be exact, when she finally sees him from the Haas hospitality. His shoulders are hunched, head slightly down, and though there are cameras following him, there’s nothing urgent in his steps, just exhaustion.

He knows he’s about to lose them when he enters the building anyway, but right before he can do so, Ollie hears his name. His team principal intercepts him just a few paces from the door, and the cameras shift and pivot like vultures drawn to movement; a few journalists still hang around, hoping for scraps of reaction.

The girl catches everything, her heart reducing to atoms when she sees her boyfriend suddenly so tense. She wants to run to him, to put herself between him and the noise, like Belle stepping in front of the Beast when the village came with pitchforks. She wants to shield him and tell them all to fuck off. But she can’t. Not without tarnishing his reputation, anyway.

“We talked about just keeping it on the track,” Ayao reminds him, and even though the man’s tone isn’t quite accusing, there is a hint of scolding behind his voice. “That’s what you had to do today.”

Oliver doesn’t speak, just nods once. Tight. Only to show his boss that he understands, he gets the message, but has nothing else to add. Not now, at least. Unfortunately, like it or not, his body language talks for him: it tells them he wants out of the conversation, away from the cameras, away from the moment he keeps replaying in his head.

At this point, he is just embarrassed. He doesn’t smile, and doesn’t give a quote. Just turns, opens the door, and finally disappears into the hospitality unit.

She’s catching sight of him right before he disappears down the corridor toward the driver’s room. His steps falter slightly when he hears her behind, and he glances back over his shoulder, waiting with his palm around the door knob.

When their eyes meet, he’s still silent. It’s as if he has lost the right to words, as if they can’t describe what he’s going through now anyway, so he chooses not to give them any power.

“I’m okay,” he says at last, his voice sounding mechanical, like he’s just repeating the same lie he told everyone until he got to her.

It makes her stomach twist.

She exhales a shaky breath, steps closer to reach up and touch the side of his face, ignoring the dampness in his curls. Or the fact that he just flinched at her gesture.

“Ol…”

He doesn’t look at her when he adds, “I just need a minute, okay?”

She nods, even though he’s not looking. “Right,” she says, her heart breaking a little at the way he’s pushing her away. “But is that all? Just a minute?”

For a moment, he looks like he wants to turn around and just let her fix whatever it is that needs to be fixed. It’s not as if she didn’t do that before. For him. But this time is different; everybody saw. He can’t physically move. Just stands there, hand still on the doorknob, his back still facing her.

“Can you just wait in the car?” asks Oliver as he opens the door, then disappears inside without waiting for her answer.

SHE FIGURES THE room is way too quiet the second she steps out of the hotel bathroom, towel wrapped around her body. The lights are turned off, and there’s just a tiny lamp on the bedside table that casts some of its poor rays across the walls.

Oliver sits up in bed, back against the headboard, eyes tracking her silently; he watches her as she moves around the room in silence, going through her routine like muscle memory. Moisturizer. Hairbrush. Towel switched for one of his old Ferrari Driver Academy shirts, its worn fabric hanging loose on her frame with the sleeves too long and the faded logo barely visible now. She always wears it when she’s trying to feel close to him, because that’s the first shirt he gave her back when they started dating.

And he knows that.

Even though they’re about to share a bed, they are currently miles apart.

He wants to tell her that he is still present, because he notices how, in her routine, she’s not leaving space for him anymore. But she keeps going, unbothered, plugging in the blowdryer and flicking the switch on. The low hum fills the room the next second, and it makes Oliver close his eyes at the noise, like it breaks whatever opportunity to speak he’s had left.

Her reflection in the mirror doesn’t look at him. Not even a glance. And it hits him once again, the same sick twist in his gut from earlier, when he just sent her away. He didn’t mean to, but he needed to be alone for his own sanity.

Looking back, Oliver realizes how wrong and heartless he was towards her, the only person in the entire paddock who didn’t deserve that treatment from him. He hates himself for it, and that’s one of the reasons why he desperately wants to at least try to get inside her head. To snuggle there and apologize until they fall asleep and forget that today existed in the first place.

But it would be too easy that way.

When the blowdryer clicks off, the room falls into silence again. Until he finds the strength to finally speak.

“Can you stop ignoring me, please?” asks Ollie, his voice breaking through, rougher than he intends. “I’m sorry.”

She’s still in her own world, avoiding to look at him. Just hangs the dryer on the hook and smooths her shirt down over her legs.

“For what?” she asks with a calm in her voice that sends shivers down his spine. “You didn’t do anything.”

Ollie narrows his eyes. “Come on, now. Don’t do that.”

“Do what?”

“Pretend.”

“I’m not pretending,” she shrugs, walking to her side of the bed and pulling back the covers to slip under them. “I just want to sleep, Oliver. We have a ten-hour flight tomorrow.”

His full name sounds unfamiliar in her mouth. It makes his face twist in disgust, physically cringe, because it’s so wrong coming from her. Too distant.

“So that’s it?”

She shrugs again. “I’m just tired. That okay with you?”

He lets out an unamused chuckle. “No, actually, it’s not,” he snaps, sitting up straighter. “I am just trying to apologize so we can move past this.”

She turns her head toward him then, finally meeting his eyes. There’s no heat in hers, just quiet exhaustion. “Well, I waited in that car like a neglected dog for forty minutes, Ollie. After waiting for you to come back from the media pen. And after sitting through two hours of a race that never seemed to end. Respectfully, you can take your apology and shove it deep down your—”

“Baby, I’m sorry,” Oliver cuts her off. “I’m so bad at this, I know. But I’m sorry,” he insists. He runs a hand through his curls, eyes closing for a moment, enough to try to put his thoughts in order. When he opens them again, she’s already turned onto her side, facing away. “I just… I didn’t want to dump it on you, alright?”

Her brow furrows, and wants to ask him what he means by that. But then she feels the bed shifting slightly, and his arm slides around her waist, hesitant, like he’s unsure if he’s still allowed to touch her. Then firmer, Ollie pulls her back into him until there’s no space left. His body curls around hers, big and warm and familiar, as his face finds the curve of her neck, his nose pressing into her hair like he needs to just breathe her in, in order for everything to be right again.

He tangles their legs together beneath the sheets, his hold tight, too afraid she’ll slip through his fingers if he’d give her the chance.

“Don’t ignore me, darling,” whispers Ollie. “Please.”

Her heart starts racing at the sound of his mellow voice. She loves it and hates it at the same time, that a single word has the power to melt her so quickly.

His hand slips beneath the hem of the shirt, until his fingers find the warmth of her bare skin. They brush gently over her stomach, covering it completely, a soothing touch in the midst of desperation. It sends a jolt straight through her chest, and her heart stutters against her ribs once again, every nerve suddenly wide awake, hyperaware of the way his fingertips trace lazy, featherlight patterns like he’s playing the piano.

“I saw your face on the replay,” he finally explains with a defeated exhale. “You looked like the ground had just been ripped out from under you, and I am…” he pauses, swallows hard, then continues, “I’m supposed to protect you from that. From feeling like that.”

As if an arrow passes through her heart, she closes her eyes and just waits for it to go through to the other side, hoping that it will do as little damage as possible.

“I’m the one in the car,” says Ollie. “I signed up for this. I don’t care about the risks, because I chose them. But you didn’t. You chose me. And seeing you like that, like you’d just watched something awful happen and couldn’t do anything… Yeah, I don’t know how to handle that yet.”

She stiffens slightly in his arms, her fingers tightening around the edge of the blanket.

Oliver presses a kiss into the back of her shoulder. “I’ve been trying so hard to keep things normal between us. Same as before it got official, you know? Same stupid routines. But this is already changing things. Doesn’t it?” he asks, leaning in again to brush his lips over the curve of her shoulder.

She’s about to reply when she feels the tender heat of his tongue as he presses another kiss, on her neck this time. Her eyes sting, tears welling despite herself, and she turns in his arms, unable to keep her indifference intact. Her hands wrap around his torso, clutching him tightly, burying her face in his chest like she needs to feel every heartbeat to believe he’s here.

“I hate that you’re going to worry about me now,” he keeps going, as if his words have just returned from a long vacation, and he really needs to tell her everything. “Like, really worry. Not ‘what if his car breaks’ worry, but ‘what if he doesn’t come back in one piece’ worry. And I get it, because if this job ever made you regret being with me—”

She cuts him off before she even gets the chance to think of how to assure him best. “Ollie,” she breathes, shaking her head as her fingers press lightly against his chest. “That’s never going to happen. I could never regret you,” her voice is steady, in contrast with how fast her heart’s still beating. “I know what comes with loving you. And yeah, it scares me sometimes. But that doesn’t mean I’d ever walk away because of it. All you can do is be the best you can every time you’re in that car. That’s all anyone can ask of you, including Ayao. Including your team. And including me.”

He’s quiet, his eyes searching hers like he’s still not sure he deserves to hear that. But she doesn’t waver.

Instead, she reaches up, fingers threading gently through his curls, brushing them back from his forehead, her touch delicate. “I’m proud of you, my little cub. Not just when you get it right. If anything, it was pretty impressive what you did today.”

His eyes close for a second, her words settling into the cracks he’s been trying to hide all day. When he opens them again, they’re glassy and full of shame. “I’m sorry,” he whispers. “For shutting you out. I didn’t mean to.”

She doesn’t need to say it. It’s in the way she leans in, closing the distance between them as her lips meet his, like they’ve both been holding their breath for too long.

As they kiss, his hand moves instinctively, sliding down her side until it finds her thigh. With one gentle motion, he lifts her leg over his hip, needing her closer than close. Her body pressed against his gives purpose a whole new meaning, the tension in his shoulders finally softening under her touch.

When they part, she studies him. His face is pale under the soft light, freckles stark against the skin that’s still slightly flushed from the day. His eyes are rimmed in exhaustion, but there’s something else beneath them that makes him look even younger than he is.

“By the way, just so we’re clear,” she begins, “I don’t need you to protect me, Ollie. I just need you to talk to me. Like we always do.”

He smiles now, brushing the tip of his nose against hers. “Can I now?”

As a response, she shakes her head, eyes dark with desire. “Nope, you missed that train, I’m afraid. I have other plans for that big mouth of yours,” she whispers, her voice laced with all the love that’s been hanging by a thread today.

She kisses him again, deeper this time, her hands sliding up his chest, fingers curling around his shoulders as she guides him, rolling them gently until he’s above her. Then, with a push, she urges him down, beneath the covers and between her legs, where her need for closeness matches his.

Oliver lets out a breath of a laugh, eyes never leaving hers as he disappears beneath the sheets. His hands glide along her thighs, parting them slowly, his smirk lingering as their eyes lock one last time before the world narrows to just the two of them.

And for the first time today, he doesn’t feel like he’s spinning out. Shame turns to lust. Exhaustion to hunger. His breath ghosts over her smooth skin, leaving goosebumps behind while savoring her quiet whimpers.

Impatient, she lifts her hips slightly, nudging his shoulder with her knee, “Keep taking your sweet time, and I’ll poke the damn bear if it gets him to move.”

. ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . ݁ MASTERLIST . ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . ݁

Thank you for reading!

None of my works are available for reposting on other platforms. Reblogs, likes, and comments are deeply appreciated ♥︎

© trashy track tales, 2025

[angelic--kitty]

mavuika + breeding kink

warnings: smut (mdni), mavuika x sub!fem reader, wlw content, strap-on usage, cunnilingus, breeding kink, soft sex, size kink, bruises (she's strong)

a/n: are you not entertained???? also, mav is a family woman. she would love to have kids with you :(( and she's very gentle. also sorry it kinda goes right to the smut. i hope i wrote mavuika okay, it has been a while aksjdk.

her body hovers over yours on the bed, caging you in like a tiger that had finally caught its prey. one of her hands firmly holds both your wrists down, yet you don't bother squirming or wasting energy. you want this just as much as she does.

mavuika leans down, her breath ghosting over your cheek as her lips graze the shell of your ear. her knee slides up to press against your clothed cunt, eliciting a soft gasp from your own lips. you can feel her slight smile against your skin. "someone's excited." she hums.

"mavuika, don't tease-" you huff at her, watching her lean back up over you. her free hand comes to take your chin, pulling you in for a sweet, slow kiss.

she's aware of her own strength when it comes to you. of course, she knows you like it rough sometimes, but rough doesn't begin to describe her full potential. so she'll play along carefully.

you grind down against her knee while her tongue maps out your mouth. her hand flexes as it holds your wrist, sure to leave bruises that you'll be happy to admire tomorrow.

"mavuika..." you whine when she leans away. "where are you going?" she laughs, shaking her head, tapping your nose.

she fetches the strap, slowly unzipping her leather suit as you watch with wide eyes. you admire the expanses of skin she's revealed to you, particularly hovering over her full chest.

she sends you a little smile, tilting your chin playfully back up to her eyes while she leaves the rest of her suit bunched by her hips, fastening the strap over it.

before you can reach for her, she pushes you back down, settling to her knees on the floor. she yanks you by your hips, enjoying your little squeak as she spreads your thighs over her shoulders, sliding your panties to the side.

"pretty..." she comments, kissing over your thighs as you whimper, hips pushing up, eager to feel her tongue.

"please- please?" ah, your pleas are too cute for her to ignore.

she uses her tongue dutifully, lapping over you like you were her last meal. her hands grip your thighs, leaving bruises to match your wrists. you can hear her grunting against you, your back arching as you chase the feeling.

your hands take purchase in her hair, grasping at the soft strands as they tangle between your fingers. she allows you to ride her tongue, taking pleasure for yourself as you cry out her name.

she loves seeing you like this. so sweet and pliant. so eager.

once she's dragged you over the edge, she eases you back down, standing up to wipe her mouth and stare at your breathless form. she rests your legs back down, ensuring her strap was secure.

"are you tired?" she asks, hearing you scoff, rolling onto your stomach and propping your ass up for her.

"you're asking me that when you're about to fuck me. of course not."

she holds you up, fixing your arch into something picturesque as her tip bumps against your pussy. she slowly slides herself through your sensitive folds, eyeing every little reaction your body gives her.

"ready?" she always asks, even in the throes of pleasure. all she cares about is you.

you nod for her, peering back over your shoulder. "mhm... please."

she slides her strap in slowly, making sure your discomfort is minimal. she leans down, her warm, bare front pressing to your back. her breasts are so soft as they press against you, reminding you of her presence as she slides deeper into you.

"that's it, you're such a good girl for me." she smiles, pressing gentle kisses across your shoulders, up to your hair.

"move... please. need more-" you always give her the go-ahead, knowing she only wants to give what you are ready to take.

her hips move gingerly at first, as per usual. your hips are where her hands stay, digging in as she begins to tug you back against her rather than thrusting on her own. it's a silent reminder of her strength, and she knows you love it.

"more, please... want you to..." you grow quiet, mustering up the courage to beg for what you really want. "fill me up...want a baby with you, mav."

her hips stutter, hands flexing into your skin. "a baby?" she asks softly, hand sliding up to tilt your chin to face her.

you nod, looking shy. "whether it's possible... or not. i want a family with you. i know you'd be a wonderful mother." you admit shyly to her, leaning back a bit to press against her.

"sweetheart..." she breathes softly, her heart fluttering. your hips push back against hers, a silent plea to keep fucking you as she shudders. "you want a baby, huh? it won't happen today, but-" she pulls you up to your knees, caging your throat without pressing down as she sinks you lower on her strap while you whine. "we can try, that's for damn sure."

she bounces you like you're little more than a toy- albeit a very beloved one. you mewl with every thrust, listening to her little mumbles about having a family with you, filling you up, fucking you full.

it only sends you closer to the edge, feeling her slowly losing control. she grows rougher with her treatment, slamming her hips into yours, wishing desperately she could breed you right here, right now.

she pushes you back down onto the bed on your stomach, shoving your head into the soft pillows.

she fucks you like she means it, fast and hard as she feels you cumming around her, working you through it and beyond. "mav- mavuika- want-" your sentences turn to babbling as she watches you grow overwhelmed beneath her, only able to beg for her to fuck you harder.

and, oh, it feels so good to be her sweet little toy. you just hope she can find a way to really fill you up soon ♡

[chaaistained]

☕︎ my better cr; intro •°

.

.

.

🗝️ you’ve now unlocked the recipe to my better cr ≈

name : ℳ

age (when i shift) : 17/18 — i’m planning to either shift to dec 2021 or aug 2022 , wtv my subconscious chooses

occupation : university student — double degree in law and arts, majoring in media law and craft of writing & literature, respectively

+ part time tutor for english and maths, at the same private tutoring company i went to in high school

+ (eventually) part time stock acquisition and youth advertiser at a telecommunications company near my campus which is technically a nepo hire bcs my aunt works there

+ (eventually) paid internship at the australian taxation office for the study of torts and contracts and even tho i got in genuinely bcs of my marks and my interview it also feels a little nepo bcs another aunt (a family friend) also works here.. anyway

side hobbies/hustles : blogger (tumblrina in every reality if i can help it) , tiktok + youtube cover channel with two of my high school friends , fic author (ao3 curse does NOT exist here come at me) , occasional columnist for my uni’s student newsletter

my s/o : childhood family friend — lost contact and reunited ten years later — not revealing his name apart from the first letter bcs . he’s real .. anyway it’s 𝒜

౨ৎ meet ℳ

a sun kissed cinnamon bun personified — she is the smile that blossoms between warm cheeks during the burn of a sunrise ≈

in this dr i don’t change my name, and for that reason i’ll stick to the first letter (just like my pinned post) which is ℳ.

i’m nothing more than a normal girl, waking up each day already tired but willing myself to either go to uni or work, staying up late to catch up on the hours i spend doing other things, i have a closet full of clothes and yet i have nothing to wear, i have three of the same shades of lip gloss but they’re all from different brands so ofcs they’re not the same, i just bought a new journal but i’m yet to finish the one i got four years ago, i have ink stains on the tips of my fingers and chai stains on the pages edge of the novel i’m currently reading.

i just take every day like a new pot of tea leaves, waiting to be steeped to perfection.

𓈒⠀𓂃⠀⠀˖⠀𓇬⠀˖⠀⠀𓂃⠀𓈒

౨ৎ the metamorphosis

with frayed edges and tear stained cheeks, she undid the binds of a life once lived, a life once loved, finding the holes to be too much to bear in the everlasting winter of the cold reality that was thrust upon her, opting to take the needle and thread between her own fingers and stitch up the seams, to reinforce the realm of her existence into one that can hold her hand rather than hold her down

quite often i approach the concept of reinvention with a quivering hand, unable to part ways from the comfort — or perhaps the codependency — of that familiarity.

but eventually i took a step back and realised, there is no shame in finding freedom in what already feels right . after all, our souls are not dependant on this realm or this body, our consciousness is an ever expanding universe on its own, and our power to wield it is something that we have grown to understand and control in a way that allows us to live the lives we truly desire.. that’s all that this dr represents for me.

a life that i truly desire.

i’m not that different here, i have the same name, the same birthday, the same family. but it would be a lie to say everything stays the same.

i do admit to changing my appearance a bit, i’m nothing if not a perfectionist and whilst i do think my features have potential, i actually reach said potential in this reality. my upbringing has been revitalised to be something that enriched me rather than keeping me sheltered. my parental unit is less overbearing and more understanding, my brother is less of a jerk and more of a friend, my family relationships are less immature and more genuine.

i revise my failures in education, i revise my anxieties around success and the fear of that success being unreachable, i revise my health, my athleticism, my willpower and the general energy i have throughout the day to achieve everything that i wish to accomplish, everything that i could not bring myself to take a step towards in my previous reality.

my passions aren’t shamed here, they are encouraged. not just with the wary caution of a simple hobby but rather as an actual proper lifestyle, a feasible choice to make for a career, a skill that is supported as something from which i can make a name for myself.

and in this growth, in this metamorphosis, i find stability and comfort in not just my family but also my friends — people that i lost contact with, people that i drifted away from, people that i couldn’t bring myself to keep close because of the shame in my own progression or lack thereof — i’m not an aspect of shame, i never was, i know what i deserve and what i’m capable of and in this reality, i am all those things.

that’s why this is home, even after i break out of the cocoon and open my eyes in a world that’s familiar, it will also be different, because i’ll be different — no longer experiencing the slow sluggish state of what once was, for i now have a marvellous symmetry of splendour that holds me high, the equilibrium of my reality, where the scales finally tipped in my favour, levelling out to be amiably sound, with every flap of a butterfly’s wing.

𓈒⠀𓂃⠀⠀˖⠀𓇬⠀˖⠀⠀𓂃⠀𓈒

౨ৎ sugar heart cookies

it’s an inexplicable pull, an intangible tug on the heartstrings, a firm grip, a gentle ache, a deep longing. you can’t help but feel that there is something more out there for you, that there is someone more. someone that feels less like a piece and more like a whole person. someone who won’t complete you, but will help you complete yourself. two halves of a heart leaves you vulnerable when you’re apart, but when it’s two hearts beating alongside each other, the only thing left is to hold onto you

he sat beside me in his mother’s car. we were six (me) and eight (him). he sat in the drivers seat while his mother went inside the house to pick up a few things before taking the three of us (his little sister sat in the back) to a gathering of family friends.

his mother had bought us britannia little hearts. i can still remember the minuscule sugar crystals stuck to the tips of my small fingers while i dove inside the aluminium cover every few seconds to reach for the next tiny biscuit.

he asked me where i was that day — i’d stayed home from school because i felt unwell — when i told him, his first reaction was to nag me : “you know, if you’re sick, you shouldn’t be eating these. this is pure sugar.”

“yeah but i don’t want to listen to you!” — i was .. never really good at listening to people, especially not cute boys who were a little older than me.

he always seemed a bit uptight, but i guess i forgot how much he cared. because i can’t remember what happened two years later, during my last day in my old school. i remember crying, and i remember being comforted by people. but i guess i forgot that one of those people was him. i guess i forgot that he told me “it’ll be alright. i’m sure we’ll see each other again someday.”

it took us ten years but we got there.

this time, he was upstairs, in the house that was hosting a dinner among friends. i was distracted by my brother’s antics, one foot inside the threshold past the door and one foot on the pavement outside. with a flick of my head, my gaze turned up, up past the stairs in front of the door, up to the railing on the second level, a lookout point for the entrance.

he was leaning against the railing, blue button up shirt tucked into his black jeans, scrolling aimlessly on his phone, taking a quick glance to his side before doing a double take.

the silence felt like the calm before a pattering evening of rainfall, where you can feel the change in your future from the way the air seems electrified, from the way the clouds seems to churn around each other, like they’re brewing together, ready to erupt and explode into thunder, like the way you can hear your heartbeat in your ears.

he seemed familiar, he seemed important, he seemed to be everything i could ever ask for and i didn’t know why the sirens were singing in my skull but i knew in my gut he was meant to be important to me. i knew he was meant to be somebody.

it took me a second to look away, but that entire night, and every night that followed, and every day that came along with it, i can’t ever forget the sugar crystal glimmers of light in his eyes. and for every moment to come, i’ll hold the little heart biscuits of our love in the palm of my hands, because i’m not someone who listens to people very well, i don’t care if i’m not allowed, i want them . i want him.

don’t swallow the tea leaves ! for they leave you a message 🍂

this dr is very near and dear to my heart and i can’t even begin to put everything i wanna say about it into one post so .. there will be more abt this dr

it’s literally home. it’s my life.

i’m so grateful for it xx

chaai brews; tea assortments — dr archive

2025 © chaaistained

[carnationnrecollection]

things about kanade I would like to see explored

- it was mentioned before that she had an established friend group before the switch to homeschool and it seems that the switch was sudden. there's no indication that she still talks to them and it's safe to assume they've fallen out. did they try to reach out to her? did she cut them off? does she still remember them as individuals? despite kanade having a lot of backstory events, her middle school years still don't have a lot of information to them. it would be interesting to have an event where she reunites with one of her old friends to discuss how each of them felt about the falling off

- in relation to middle school, it's established that Kanade's switch to homeschool was a decision she made herself to focus on composing which her grandma was against. it would be interesting to explore kanade’s process in making that decision, she looks back on her life back then with fondness so it probably wasn't an easy decision to leave her friends and social life behind. how much of a toll did that take on her? was the switch easy? did she find herself missing her previous life but forced herself to repress that?

- kanade lived 2 years of her life indoors shutting herself away from family and friends alike, the only human contact she probably had in time span was her visits to the hospital. loneliness takes a bigger toll on people that a lot realize so it's impressive that kanade was able to survive with that life span for as long as she did. does she regret it, wasting away 2 years of her youth for the sake of overworking towards an impossible goal all for it to be for nothing? there's no way she doesn’t but she probably doesn't consciously realize it

- kanadad come back, but don't just have him come back. explore his relationship with kanade and how its changed after the incident because there's no way their relationship would stay the same way it used to be. I made a post about this a while back but I want an event where kanade reflects on her who father was without the rose colored glasses view of him she used to have, explore his mental state and the bad habits he exhibited prior to his hospitalization and how they mirror hers. put an emphasis to her collapsing incident in kana5 where it hits her just how severe it was, how similar she was to her father to the point of almost ending up like him. having a more objective view of who her dad was would change the trajectory of their relationship because all her life, kanade’s dad could do no wrong in her eyes and for the longest time that's what she believed so this revelation has her rethinking everything she ever knew. if kanadad were to come back it would be interesting to see how this revelation changes the way she interacts with him

- it's probably too late for kanade to transfer to public high-school now but it would be interesting to have her go to in-person university which will give her the chance to regularly interact with people outside of niigo which she doesn't do often, being in university would force her to leave the house and get out of her comfort zone full time and in turn making more close friendships. if we were to explore her potential feeling of regret in regards to spending her middle school years alone, this would be a good way to end that conflict. she can't take back the years she spend rotting away but it's not too late for her to live the life she was supposed to have surrounded by friends, she can stop lamenting on what her past life should've been and instead focus on making her current life one worth living

- in mafu6 it's confirmed that the room mafuyu is staying in was actually kanamom's room and not kanade’s which would mean kanade’s old room has yet to be revealed. I'm curious to see what it looked like before she left. it was mentioned that kanade was a mischievous kid and paired with her more lively personality prior to what happened with her dad, kanade was far more lively when she was younger compared to how she is now which is obviously seen in her behavior but I wonder if it reflected in her room and how she decorated it because there's no way she didn't given how much more cheerful she used to be. did she ever take them down? how much of her stuff did she leave behind? probably a lot given how her dad's room looks exactly the same as it was before she moved in so if she had trinkets or plushies in her old room she didn't bother bringing them to her new one. if this was the case it would serve as symbolism of the way kanade slowly steered away from the cheerful lively person she once was to becoming like her father in all the wrong ways; a husk of a person who works tirelessly creating music not for themselves, but for others. even just seeing a contrast between her childhood room and her current one would be enough to display the effects her trauma had on her and how it drained every ounce of life after her

[k-aemi]

do u write for karasu? :3 i want to get stuck/trapped in an elevator w him... so that gives him enough time to have his way w me...

karasu tobito˚₊· ͟͟͞͞➳❥ how lucky i am.

smut, non, public sex, use of the word slut, corruption

karasu is always observing. his surroundings, the people, and most definitely you. seriously how did you not know he was eye fucking you? you just wanted him to directly touch you didnt you? such a slutty girl you are.

the way your innocent little self wouldnt notice the way other men stared at your perfect body, which karasu thinks it is. your fat ass and curves makes him hard and hes not ashamed to think of you in such a way, because obviously its your fault and youre probably doing this on purpose to tease him, just not initiating.

karasu was always by your side, such a gentleman he is! hes always carrying your bags when your hands were full, would come to pick you up if you didnt have a ride, and if you didnt have money? dont worry hell pay for you every time you want to go shopping. anything for his little slut, he wishes to use you as like a fleshlight that can manhandle you.

"tobi!" you ran up to him with your cute little mini skirt, bouncing every time you did a pep in your step as you waved your hands, wit the clanking of your heels. karasu eyes the way your ass was in full view, you seriously went out like that? his tall figures leans back with his hands in his pocket, resisting the urge to take his cock out and fuck you right now.

you catch up with your breath before recovering, "sorry i called you to do my grocery shopping on such short notice...i didnt want to be alone." followed by a giggle. he only smirks while ruffling your hair. "its fine, id be happy to accompany you anywhere."

he finds it cute whenever youd reach for something high you struggled while you tiptoed and made little grunts. it stirs something inside of him because he gets full view of your thongs that shaped your ass so perfectly. the stockings complimented your legs well and now its obvious youre doing it on purpose. but you werent! you just thought it looked cute on you...

"tobi! can you get that for me?" holding onto the shelf when you tried to reach for the oil. but karasus eyes seemed to linger else where and you couldnt tell where, but he looked like he was lost in thought. "tobi!" he blinks staring at your eyes now before chuckling.

"yes yes im coming."

finishing the grocery shopping, he carries more bags than you while you carried on two. you appreciate karasu so much for helping you all the time, you dont know how to repay him! but if you were to ever ask him he does have some ideas. very good ideas.

heading into the building where your home lies on, the fifth floor. taking the elevator would be much more convenient than the stairs, your legs and hands would tire out before you even get to the fifth floor!

you and karasu have friendly chatter while you both enter the elevator. it was just you two and the little music that played in the background. your giggling comes to a halt when a loud thud occurs and it felt as if the elevator has stopped.

"huh?" you looked around in confusion, was this your stop or did the elevator just completely broke...it was until the lights started to flicker and became very dim.

"ah shit. think were stuck." karasu clicked his tongue in annoyance rubbing the back of his neck. you pout before settling the bags down and sat on the floor.

"ahh seriously? this just had to happen when i ask you!" karasu chuckles before gazing down at your legs, he had a clear view of your panties and holy shit it made him hard. he wants to fuck you right now...well he potentially could, you want it too dont you?

you sigh laying your head in your palm, not even aware of the sexually driven karasu in front of you. you just wanted to go home and make dinner for you and karasu!

karasu squats down to your level before setting down the bags. he observes your frustrated figure with his hand rubbing his chin. was your body language just naturally slutty or were you just asking for his attention? he really cant wrap his finger around on it.

well if you were, the best thing he can do is give you what you want right? he can only smirk to himself, plus the elevator seemed like the perfect place, it builds excitement knowing theyre in a place that isnt suitable for sex.

once hes made up his mind, hes on it. he has this sickening smile to him and you dont even notice it due to your distress. but its soon to be interrupted by karasu gripping your ankles dragging you towards him.

"a-ah! tobi..?!" youre left surprised when he suddenly pulled you till your back lied on the floor. you panic when hes pulling your panties down and you take hold of his wrist. "tobi what are you doing!?" he only scoffs, slapping your hand away.

"i know you want this. cmon dont deny me now because youre shy." he smirked, grabbing hold of both of your wrists above your head, hes bigger than you, so handling you is like a piece of cake. want this? what is he talking about?! the thought never even occurred to you!

he rips your panties into two, met with your pretty pink pussy. he eyes your bud that speaks out to him, he cant help but tease it with his thumb and your body shuttered. "s-stop...feels weird!" you squirm under him and that only fuel his excitement. he knows you want this but youre just pretending you dont.

"stop pretending whore, i know the way youve been trying to get my attention." he presses onto your clit with pressure and a moan emit from your mouth. he binds your wrists tighter and it hurts but you cant do nothing about it. "n-no tobi... i really dont wanna!"

he feels more excited how youre "pretending" to not like this, hes always fantasized of using you forcefully. he wants to force himself in your small virgin hole, he thinks thats so hot.

"yeah right. just let me show you a whole new world." he rubs his bulge on your bare pussy, letting out low groans and you only shut your eye in discomfort. it felt so gross you dont even wanna look.

it gradually grows bigger and you can feel it. his length is prodding at his pants to get out of the restraints. karasu lets out breathy moans feeling your slick create a wet pat on the tip of his tent.

he pulls down his pants with eager, cock erect, a mean red tip with curved slightly upwards. he was always so proud of his size, so knowing your first would be him excites him. he can see your hymen still intact and hell break through it with force.

"g'na stretch you goood." he says with his voice low, nudging his tip at your entrance. you whine, trying to break out of the restraints that bind you together.

you just cant help but cry aloud only to be silence with his free hand. he forced all of himself in you with just one push and it burns. you can feel it in your stomach and the visible bulge says so.

"tobi! hurts!" you were struggling to even form a single coherent thought, he was stretching you out big to where big globs tears drip down your cheeks.

"yeah? does it now?" he thrusts into you, slowly taking it out admiring the way your cunt tried to sucked him back in. your body jolts from the pain with a helpless moan that rolled off your tongue. "bet you love this." he props your legs up, setting you into a mating press before starting his brutal pace on you.

the erratic pace he sets on you and the cries you let out makes it so much more exciting for him. its like youre a natural even for your first time. this "roleplay" was something he wanted to do to you for so long and you did it just f'him<3

pumping in and out of your pretty pussy, he feels you tighten up already. he chuckles, smirking at your dumb fucked out face. "already? ya g'na have to hold out a little more f'me okay?" beads of sweat trickle down his forehead as he can feel your pussy clenching him tight. you dont even know what he said, your brains all mushy from his cock.

"fuuck. cant even pull out." his pace turns sloppy and he groans, nearing his release. kissing the tears that spilled to "comfort" you but he just enjoyed seeing you so vulnerable. "your pussy wanna be filled, dont she?" he rushes to finish, feeling his balls tighten up.

with one final thrust, he empties himself in you, he thinks you have the perfect ahegao face, it was so errotic and he pulls out. leaving a pool of cum beneath you and he whistles from the sight upon him. snapping a quick picture at ya.

uwaa i finally fnished!!!! i actually edit on my free time so i try to balance between writing and editing ahh...hope this was good enough to satisfy you guys :D next is saeee then i will work on more of the requestsss

@rinrinniebaby

[hahahafangirl]

Plum and Cherry Blossoms — The Change of Seasons

NEW WBK CHAPTER!!!!!! NEW WBK CHAPTER MAKES ME SO HAPPY. IT MAKES ME WANT TO GO WEE? HOO? WEE? HOO? WEE?

I’m very happy to see Togame lending an ear to Sakura and walk him through his anxiety— like Togame says, there are something you just can’t talk to your closest friends about, and that where your other friends, like Togame, comes in. It’s a very important lesson I learned later on in life, I think.

But anyway, what is particularly striking in this chapter is the comparison between ume and sakura

I can’t stop being amazed at how intentional Nii-sensei is about naming. Incredibly plot relevant that ume blooms in the snow and lead winter into spring, as Umemiya entered the scene during Furin’s fragmented period (cold winter) and bring it to spring — a unified, blossoming garden where various plants and flowers come together to nurture and to be nurtured :)

And, as my roommate points out in the discussion, if ume did not carry spring into the scene first, sakura could never bloom. Just like how Sakura was before he arrived in spring (Furin), sakura could never reach their full potential in the winter. Not that there is anything wrong with that— it’s just the nature of the flower. Boiling water soften a radish but harden an egg, and so on. Everyone needs something different to bring them to fruition.

Notably, sakura blooms along with other plants. Well, if that isn’t the first-year troupe and the power of friendships :)

There comes the answer to Sakura’s problem: sakura cannot become ume, and Furin does not need him to become Umemiya. A unified Furin does not need a leader that will unify it; instead, as the time has changed, Furin needs a leader that will respond to the new challenges unlike anything Umemiya faced before. Furin changed— Umemiya, as a leader, has fulfilled his literal and symbolic functions— and so must its leadership change.

We already see this with the Extinction War arc, where Sakura demonstrated the unique strength of his leadership. Whereas Umemiya did not summon the other teams for help, instead relying on the strength of Bofurin (his inner circle) to fight as he did during the reunification; Sakura saw the scope of the problems, see how far the first-years still need to go before being of comparable strength to Noroshi, and initiated help.

It is not that Umemiya’s leadership is flawed here (we may argue about that, but it is not the narrative’s intention to say that his decision is wrong), but rather, Sakura’s leadership is where we need to head next. Bofurin reunification is an internal issues that, by building up strength in his internal circle, Umemiya was able to overcome (it also shows in his leadership style). The challenges that will come to Bofurin, or that Bofurin will seek out, has consistently been external (from other teams) problems that require a larger, more comprehensive, and perhaps organizational outlook (this is where the strategist and informant in Suo and Nirei will become relevant) than what unification needed, or was relevant to. We saw this first present in KEEL (class 1-1 getting ratioed once the strongest five is occupied), and again at Extinction War. And of course— if winter, Umemiya, and unification didn’t come first, we would not be here at all. This is time passing its baton.

There will come a day where the third-years graduate, as Nirei opened Sugishita’s eyes to. Winter passed, spring come, ume fulfilled its time, literal and symbolic function, and Umemiya graduate. Then, let’s see what spring will bring to Sakura and the flowers that bloom with him :)

[marsprincess889]

The primordial horror of Ashlesha🐍

And a timeless tale

You might have heard that in vedic posts on the internet Bharani and Ashlesha are almost always talked about when topics of femininity, mother nature, primordial feminine, female passivity, raw sexuality and feminine harshness (in any sense) are being discussed. And for good reason too. Bharani and Ashlesha_ two mleccha nakshatras associated with feminine planets (Bharani's nakshatra lord Venus and Ashlesha's rashi lord Moon) and saturated with feminine symbolism, are both connected to primordial, raw, pure power of passive femininity.

I'm going to explore Ashlesha's role in this in a less sexual and more internal context.

Do recommend this for Jyeshtas, Revatis, Bharanis and Punarvasus too, as the themes are going to be familiar to all of these, in different ways.

The medicine and the poison, the monster and the pure angel

To start with, Ashlesha's main symbol_ the coiled serpent, already spells danger. Something is reaching its critical point and cannot be contained, for better or for worse.

Ashlesha's power is vishashleshana shakti ("Vish" means poison, "ashlesha" means control). Ashlesha, having the power to control its energy, power and reactions, learns how to be immune to things, out of necessity.

In a way, Ashlesha's power is to simply have power over things, but that exchange of energy between you and the thing/person you're controlling can be dangerous.

4th house and the sign of Cancer deal with the spiritual/mental/emotional safety of the person, 4th house sitting at the bottom of the zodiac wheel. Being a water sign and ruled by the Moon, it is related to extreme vulnerability and energy flow. Moon is dependancy. Ashlesha's nakshatra lord_ Mercury, is the nervous system. Ashlesha is the very force that binds and connects your emotions to your nerves and their sensations.

Sidenote: Ashlesha is about nourishing(Moon's sign) the nerves(Mercury ruled), Hasta is about controlling(Mercury's sign) the nourishment(Moon ruled).

Those reptilian instincts, that primal awareness and animalistic conciousness that Ashlesha leaves you with are as vulnerable as they are scary. To the person themselves, they have been stripped bare of their defences, and no matter how hard they try to find a way to be safe, it feels like the only safety is in no defence. Building or cultivating defence is not natural to the pure, passive Ashlesha. It requires some kind of action, and any action, in its essence, requires the disregard of absolute receptivity_ the state in which Ashlesha is naturally in (Bharani too, by the way).

Ashlesha is about not lying to yourself about your weaknesses, it's about knowing how vulnerable you really are. In a way, it's also about testing the limits of pain to know how much you can hurt, how much of that pain you really feel and have been repressing, how much of it you can handle. It's about settling in your nature and slowly gaining strength, so that your weaknesses are not really weaknesses, but just parts of you that have not yet reached their full potential. It's not a place of excess, but a place of economy and necessities.

From the viewpoint of the feminine, it's their natural place_ the watery, sensitive, impressionable, pure force. But it does not want to stay in that one place. It's known that still water is dangerous, it's been associated with all kinds of unpleasant things. Being in the state of Ashlesha is like that_ it's like the water that has nowhere else to go and wants to flow (release) with any opportunity to do so, but there's danger there too.

For the feminine in that state, there is danger in staying and there is danger in going.

There is a lot of concern for purity because it recognizes that it needs to move on but it absolutely cannot do so without doing it correctly, or the purpose will be defeated and all the work will be wasted.

Some hate medicine, some favor all kinds of vaccinations. Ashlesha needs to build immunity but it's also paramount for it to feel everything with as little interference as possible, preferably none at all. Purity has to be radical.

So, there is struggle and patience built into them. But whatever they do, in the end, their strength, their energy, their power is growing towards a critical point. It's like if you take a sensation from one part of the body to the other or if water goes from one end of the vessel toward the other_ it's still there, the only temporary relief might be moving that energy inside you, waiting more and more impatiently for that perfect opportunity to release.

So we go back to the start_ the coiled serpent, the dangerous force, the deep need.

In terms of sexual energy, the feminine is both intensely desirous and incredibly cautious. The need/desire of Ashlesha to move on to the next stage while waiting indefinitely to do so because of safety concerns can be interpreted as the desire/need for sexual experience, and the fear of abuse/not being pure anymore. The theme of the complete passivity is intertwined with this nakshatra, as if the origin and rules that were set in Bharani demand to be fulfilled.

The law of nature and the passive feminine are restrictive and suffocating to masculine, active forces. If the feminine does not settle and gain power through her natural passivity (flow, receptivity, being as opposed to doing), then she's at the risk of being annihilated.

The result of Ashlesha nakshatra: "destruction of the victim"

No mention of who the victim is. The point is, that in Ashlesha, a place of dependancy, attachment and control, where everyone is either the abuser or the abused, there is no place for mercy. The stronger one wins.

This is the game of subtelty and ruthlessness_ trying to gain some sense of humanity after feeling like a dangerous, vulnerable animal_ a monster that wants to take, because it's an innocent creature that has little.

But no matter how much you wait, how much you gain, it's all going to turn to poison, unless you can dare to oppose.

To break the chain_ it's a risk, but what else is there to do when safety becomes a cage?

But the smart, calculative Ashlesha knows the dangers, it just waits for when it's strong enough to attack, it waits until it knows every medicine and poison, until it hurts so much that it does not hurt anymore, so that when it faces the enemy, the victim will no longer be a victim, but an opponent, who has been hiding its strength under the covers of fragility, who uses what others called a weakness to strike. Until the poison is medicine and the tears are poison, it waits. But when the milk turns sour and the gentle touch suffocates, it's ready to go.

The tale of Snow White

🍎🪞

Crediting Claire Nakti for mentioning this association in her Ashlesha video

Snow White's story is a great example of how Ashlesha's energies play out.

I'm not going to go into too much detail of why it's related to Ashlesha, as I think it's going to be obvious as I go on, but the key associations are: the pure young woman (reinforced by the symbolism and imagery that her name evokes), the controlling feminine authority, danger, poison, power struggles.

I love the 2012 film "Mirror Mirror", because it does not hesitate to show the power struggle between Snow White and the evil queen. The struggle is depicted mostly through metaphors and/or symbolism in the original tale.

It'd be great to mention that Snow White's tale is said to be based on actual real life women. The first_ Margaretha von Waldeck who lived in the 16th century Germany, died young and as evidence by her last letter suggests (her handwiting indicated that her hand was shaking), she died by being poisoned, and it was also known that her stepmother was jealous of her. She also lived in a town where children had to work in the mines (inspiring the seven dwarves).

In "Mirror Mirror" Snow White is played by Ashlesha moon 🐈‍⬛ Lily Collins, and Evil Queen is played by Magha moon 🐀 Julia Roberts.

There is tiny chance that Lily is Pushya moon but that would only be true if she was born before one in the night, so I'd say she's Ashlesha, especially after observing her.

The beginning of the movie: the queen is sitting on her lavish golden throne (Magha's symbol), dressed in an equally lavish golden dress (Sun's color), positioned above Snow White, who is forced to kneel before her. The Queen is weaving her insults and humiliations into her words that seem genuinely caring at first, even Snow White falls for it in the beginning. That's how the feminine repression and bullying works in Ashlesha_ it's all the more powerful because it's gradual and seems non-threatening, especially to masculine people.

As always, the villain and the hero are determined by which nakshatra is the focus of the story. In this case, from Ashlesha's perspective, its enemy nakshatra_ Magha, is obviously the villain. This theme of "whose story is this" is another display of the power struggle in this transition. I highly recommend watching this film, because for all of its jokes and slight changes, it still retains the original message.

"The kingdom fell into an icy despair..."

_ narration from the queen

Ashlesha's yoni animal is the male cat, Magha's is the male rat, its enemy yoni. As Magha comes directly after Ashlesha and begins the second stage of nakshatras, marking the start of the sign of Leo, together they also mark the first gandanta point.

The Evil Queen is a blatant example of a Magha character, especially symbolically. It is implied and then obvious that she married the king for power and material advantages. Her ego is almost cartoonishly bloated, and all of these qualities are amazingly contrasted to Snow White_ a quieter character, who is naturally humble and subtler, not as direct as the rat yoni Magha.

In the beginning of the film she's dressed in a more golden dress, symbolizing her merging with and submission to the queen, stuck in the helpless state. After she gets the bravery to sneak out into the town, she wears a hooded cape the color of cooler, brighter yellow (more her coloring). When she comes back to attend the ball, she wears a pure white (symbolizing her purity and cool energy, resonant to Ashlesha) dress as her swan (grace, humility) costume. The Queen is dressed in bright red as a peacock (confidence, vanity, pride). That white dress is the one she stays in as she runs away and finds the home of the seven dwarves, the same white as the snow in the forest. In this adaptation, the whole kingdom is in an eternal winter under the queen's enchantment, just like the Ashlesha stage.

As she finds dwarves, they quickly become each other's allies and supporters, and, in a way, it taught her her own power. As she was gathering strength to attack and become the new ruler of the kingdom, she already was a ruler of her new tiny kingdom (dwarves_ her new family).

In the Ashlesha stage there is a separation from the things you were clinging to. At first it's seen as a tragedy, but with distance and time, the individual realizes that it needed solitude. Snow White is forced to run away (because of danger, to literally not die), but she thrives away from the queen (restrictive, abusuve influences). There's another side to this: an avoidant person, aware of its sensitivity, who does not realize how much they crave real connection. Attachment to the "wrong" people and environments and longing for the "right" ones is the issue here, along with the paradox of needing to escape and move on (critical point, built up tension and energy) but risking the much needed purity by doing so (just what I've discussed above).

Since a lot of the time the vulnerable Ashlesha feels dependant on outside forces, the movement is forced, for better or for worse, but it never recoils completely or gives all of its energy away, as it feels like it has to remain guarded.

Snow White learns to fight on her own, with the support from a genuinely nurturing environment.

She starts to wear a blue dress (cool toned, contrasting Queen's gold and red) while she's literally fighting on the side of the Queen's exiles.

When the prince joins her and the dwarves, they hear the "beast" that has been terrorizing the kingdom. She locks everyone else in the hut so that she alone can face the enemy (even though they don't let her), which is a key point in retaining your power in the state of Ashlesha. Her desire to face it alone shows not only the growth of her bravery, but mainly, her strength, as it was precisely what allows bravery for her.

Transition to Magha

There's a blatant display of power from snow white, right at the end, after she reclaims the kingdom (and at the end she's wearing a blue dress with a bright golden-orange ribbon_ finding her own power and embracing it, without losing herself). It's the last test and a chilling reminder that Ashlesha's stage is prolonged, almost never over, and can subtly sneak up on you and defeat you if you lower your guard.

At her wedding with the prince, she's given a ripe, red apple.

"And so it was Snow White's story, after all"

_ the magic mirror.

She gives the Queen her apple back, finally cleansing herself completely from that poison and using it to harm her enemy. Now she's the one in power, repeating the queen's own words back to her.

The result of Ashlesha nakshatra: the destruction of the victim.

The individual moves to Magha nakshatra_ ruling, power, lineages, detachment from the body (Ashlesha is the attachment to the body), and takes their own place on their throne.

...

Gif credits to @tecrystali , @xiaolanhua , @elvencantation .

Pictures are from Pinterest.

Thank you so much for reading 💕

[traumawhomst]

Ok but adoptive Fae King Dad rotating in my mind like a rotisserie chicken.

(800 words)

At first he thought you were a perfect chance to teach some humans a lesson. Letting a child walk alone in woods where Fae were known to live? Someone was going to learn sooner or later.

He stood dramatically waiting for your attention, ready to launch into a full lecture about how because of your neglectful parents he was going to turn you into some yet undecided woodland creature.

But you surprise him, you’re smart enough to know the potential trouble you’re in but also openly curious about him.

He’s always been a bit vain so when you start asking questions about him, his clothes and his magic, he can’t help himself from giving all the answers you wish.

Before he’s realized it, it’s been an afternoon and you’re politely requesting his help in bringing you home.

All plans of turning you into a bird or a squirrel are forgotten as he walks you to the forest’s edge warning you of the dangers of his domain.

He watches you make your way back to the hovel you call a home and he is already deciding in which wing of his palace you’ll be staying in.

You’re not the first child he’s taken an interest in, you have a few siblings at home you’ve yet to meet. None of which are surprised when their father comes home in a whirlwind already barking orders to his staff about getting rooms ready, clothes made and a ball to formally introduce you to his court as his youngest child.

He’s surprised when you willingly come back to his forest, sure that your parents would forbid it after you’d told them about Him, already four steps deep into a plan on how he was going to lure you back. But now he sees a much simpler path forward.

You started to come to the forest nearly daily and you talk and explore with him for hours at a time. It became a comfortable and solid routine, and you trusted if you came he would be there.

He immediately can tell how starved for attention you are, happily rambling about whatever you wished as you and Him walked together in his forest. The perfect foundation to build his plan on.

One day while you two are relaxing in the forest, you make mention of his more unnatural features, his horns, his wings, his teeth, with a tiny hint of jealousy.

He casually brings up his other children, talking about how they were once human, but now were fully Fae like him. A simple transformation, really. He says pretending not to notice the hunger that grows in your eyes.

He loves to compliment you, about how brave, smart and curious you were. He’d often go on about how proud your family must be of you. How they must’ve showered you in praise. Of course he’s not surprised when you nod and smile along, the smile not reaching your eyes.

He knows that it’s almost time when you bring up his other children, asking about what they were like. Watching you pretend not to care about the answer made him want to forget all his plans and take you home then. But he did not become King through rushed action.

So he talks about them and he’s unable to contain his joy and love when he does. All of them unique and interesting each he loved more than the world its self. He explained how all of his children chose to be with him. All from less than perfect homes, all who saw the life he offered and took it.

Then you and your parents have a fight, you’re spending too much time alone in the forest and now people are gossiping about your family.

Even at your young age, you know that the fact that they care more about people’s gossip than your safety and it escalates to a huge mess. Your parents forbid you from ever going to the forest again and it’s your breaking point.

That night you sneak out running to the forest as quick as possible, and as always he is waiting for you with open arms. He holds you as you cry, everything coming out about how your parents never cared and how you wished to have a parent like him.

Your face is buried in his shirt and so you don’t see the smile that slowly grows over his face. He gently calms you down and says how happy he’d be to have a child like you. And if you wanted, you could become as much of a Fae as he. You even get a family as a bonus.

How could you ever say no?

[ariestrxsh]

idk if this is weird but can u do like a blurb on like ..

size humiliation with matt

Of course I can. You have no idea actually how excited I've been to write this despite the fact that it took me months to do. Lmfao. I hope you love it. 💖

dividers by @/bernardsbendystraws

Matt has a size humiliation kink...

"What am I supposed to do with that?" You scoffed at Matt after he unzipped his pants and pulled out his cock, if you could even call it that. "Wh-what do you mean?" He nervously asked, looking up at you with his blue eyes.

"It's so little," you giggled. "How is that supposed to get me off?" You covered your mouth, trying to hide how comical you found the whole situation. Matt had talked himself up to you so much about how good he was at getting girls off just to present you with this?

"W-wait! I can make it bigger," Matt stammered, his smile fading and his cheeks growing pink with embarrassment. "Prove it," you smirked, narrowing your gaze at him. He started stroking it with his fingers, eagerly trying to prove himself to you.

You tried to hold back a grin, but your amusement was very apparent in your expression, watching the way he jerked himself off. "See? You can't even use your whole hand," you responded, bursting into laughter.

Tears started to well in his eyes, and his bottom lip began to quiver. "But look, it's getting bigger," he whined as it grew to its full potential - which still wasn't much. "Is that really as big as it gets? That's pathetic," you teased him, rolling your eyes.

He stopped touching himself, sniffled, and wiped away a tear drop that had started rolling down his cheek. "I didn't say you could stop, pretty boy. Keep going," you scolded him. He nodded, picking up where he left off, pumping his cock again.

You reached out and gently tapped on the tip, eliciting a soft whimper from his pouty, pink lips as a bit of precum trickled out. A smirk crept into the corner of your mouth as you smeared the clear liquid around on the head. "It's so little. I bet it doesn't take much to make you cum, does it?" You softly cooed.

"It's not little," he cried out, his voice breaking in humiliation. "And you whine like a little bitch," you laughed at him, looking down your nose at him. He stared down at his swollen, pathetic tip through his tears, his dick twitching at your degrading words as he sped up his strokes.

"It might not be big, but it sure is pretty," you whispered, continuing to circle his head with your fingertip. "Pretty?" He winced at your emasculating description. "You can't call it something else?"

"Something else? Like what, Matt? Cute? Adorable? Glittery?" You taunted him, admiring how shiny his tip looked beneath your soft touch. He groaned in embarrassment.

"Keep touching your sweet little cock for me, Matthew. Don't you dare stop until you make a mess," you seductively whispered, continuing to stimulate his pretty, pink tip with your fingers. He nodded, his breath becoming more shallow and his moans sounding more desperate. His climax neared, pressure building in his lower stomach as he sped up his strokes even more.

His eyes rolled back into his head, and his dick pulsed in his grasp. "Fuck," he softly moaned as his cock twitched and squirted all over, covering his palm and your hand in a thick layer of his pearly white cum.

A blissful smile spread across his lips as he finished, pleasure overwhelming him and causing his whole body to shudder. His pretty blue eyes met yours as he gazed at you with a fucked out expression. He continued to stroke himself, draining his cock completely before he slowed to a stop.

"So pretty when you cum," you praised him, leaning in and kissing him on his pink, flushed cheek. "You're such a good boy. I knew it wouldn't take much."

[bunny-jpeg]

side switcher

max verstappen

cw: smut/pwp, wolff!reader, driver!max, unprotected sex, rough sex, degrading language, unprotected sex and its consequences, hot stuff (!!!), missionary sex

bunny says: thanks for reading! comments and reblogs are greatly appreciated! feel free to suggest your own ideas for future fics!!

you sighed as you walked down the busy monza street the night after the grand prix. you had to calm yourself down, this was just a meeting.

"bärchen." your father had said, his hands on your shoulders, "you talk to verstappen to consider the offer from mercedes. i think he needs to talk to someone who is... closer in age. not some old man like me." he laughed. his voice was tinged with a softness that was only reserved for his daughter.

you looked at him, "i don't know how to negotiate the way you can."

"that is fine, bärchen. we need an unconventional approach to get verstappen to consider. he is too tied up with red bull, a younger face might be just what we need."

you father wasn't pimping you out. god no, he didn't want you to have sex with max verstappen. the idea of a driver like max with a toto's daughter made the head principal sick.

you stood outside the restaurant and adjusted your blouse before you stepped inside. the place was lavish, high ceilings and low lighting. the food smelt delicious even from a distance. it was the kind of place to make a deal like the one your father was attempting to secure.

he was impressed with max verstappen and you were going to help him make sure that max considered his options. the driver was seated near the back and you gave him a little wave.

"ms. wolff." you said as you reached over across the table to shake max's hand, "i'm toto wolff's daughter, he arranged for us to have a little... talk."

"i didn't know that toto was sending his daughter now. i thought he had a team for that kind of stuff."

you smiled, "well, this is just an informal meeting. the real guns will come out when you agree to talk to my father." you sat down across from him.

you tried not being starstruck, you knew that you had to do this for your father. but you couldn't help but feel a little flushed under max's gaze.

"what would mercedes be willing to give me that red bull won't?" max asked as he looked at you, "must be a pretty hefty deal."

you had the wine menu in your hand, "well. more money." you chuckled, "the numbers won't be finalized until your team meets their team. but i think you could do a lot better there. aren't you tired of being under horner's thumb?"

max raised his eyebrows, "what is be the difference between horner and wolff?"

"my father will make sure that you... shine on the track."

max pushed further, "right, right. i've been winning with red bull, why would i change now?"

you replied, "have you? you're slipping between their fingers. you potential is wasted with them. with mercedes you could have it all."

max smirked, "does the head principal's daughter come with the deal too? or does toto keep you under lock and key and out of the paddock?"

"who i am with is not my father's concern." you were trying to deflect, this was about the deal not you basically being used as a tool to entice the driver.

max chuckled, "i'm sure. if you showed up to the paddock with a mclaren boy or worse a red bull one, i'm sure he'd be quite happy."

not if it was you, you thought.

the dinner was alright, the entire time you felt like you were playing a mental chess that you were unable to really enjoy the meal. whatever pieces max put down as he ate and drank wine, you had a comeback.

it wasn't until the check came and he snatched it out of your hands before you could read the full price.

"my treat." he said, "it's impolite for a man to make the woman pay. even if she's trying to manipulate him."

"i'm not trying to manipulate you, i'm showing you options."

he laughed, "right, right. your foot rubbing against my leg and the cute little faces you keep making are only for buisness purposes."

you looked away, not denying him. he found it endearing. he'd give toto wolff credit, using his daughter to seduce him into signing a contract was a bold move. but max was less interested in a mercedes ride, but rather how did the head prinicpal's daughter ride herself.

"do you want to go back to my hotel?" he asked boldly after he paid the hefty bill, "iron out more of the details without so many people possibly hearing us." you weren't going to be doing much talking when you got back to his hotel room.

you smiled and reached across the table for him, you ran a manicured nail down his wrist, "i was just thinking the same thing."

the hotel room was nice, but not as nice as max's hands on you as he unbuttoned your blouse, his lips on your neck. it felt hot being in the room with him.

you got the belt off his pants and pressed yourself further up against him as you stuck your hand down his pants. his lips found yours and you whined into the kiss.

clothes were not an option for the evening, max wanted to see it all. what toto wolff had been hiding this whole time, his precious daughter about to be fucked by a driver for red bull. that would make quite the story.

max undressed you and you in turn undressed him. you got on the large bed and had him pushing you down fully onto it and climbing on top of you. you moaned into the next kiss as you felt max's heavy erection rub against you.

"intimidated?" he asked.

"of you? no." you replied.

he chuckled and got back on his heels between your legs. he grabbed you by the hips quickly and got your bottom half closer to him. his cock threatening to sink into your sweet pussy.

you held onto the bed as he slipped his cock into you. then wrapped your arms around him afterwards when he leaned in for a searing kiss. you wrapped your legs around him and he started to thrust into you. you gasped, "holy shit." close to his ear.

he looked at you once more, those blue eyes clouded with lust as he pulled you in for a hot kiss and moved against you. the heat in the room thickened as the two of you rutted against one another on the bed.

the kisses were sloppy, the sound of fucking was woven in with the sounds of your heavy breathing. max's thrusts took the wind out of you as you held onto him. it felt painfully intimate for a one night stand.

but in the back of your mind, you knew you'd be tumbling in the sheets with max verstappen more than once. his lips trailed down your neck as he held you by the shoulders for leverage, moving you up and down his cock with each heavy thrust.

"you look good." he said.

you chuckled, "you're not too bad yourself. usually drivers i bed are bad at sex."

he smirked, "i guess you do have the full paddock at your disposal." he didn't know if you were saying it to strike jealousy in him. he added, "but i have a feeling that they'll be less than when i'm done with you."

you looked him in the eyes, as you met his pace with the roll of your hips, "don't get a big head there, verstappen. if you do your helmet won't fit anymore."

he pulled you into another hot kiss and continued to move against you. you could feel your heartbeat in your chest as he pushed up against you.

"i bet your father would have a fit if he saw you like this. under me, like a good girl." he remarked when he broke the kiss, "he expected for you to get me drunk and sign some papers. not end up in bed with me, with my cock deep inside of you."

you tangled your fingers in his short hair and lined your mouth up with his. you said to him, "can you shut up about my father?"

"why?" he asked, "want a daddy then."

"calm the ego, verstappen."

he leaned in a little closer, his thrusts were getting sloppier, "can't, not when i'm balls deep in you, wolff." then pressed his lips against yours. he felt a shudder through his body as he felt you tighten around him.

in the kiss you clung onto him and moaned as you came. your thighs tightened around his waist as you felt the rush of euphoria through your body. when you started to come down, you maintained the kiss and kept your grip on him.

when max broke the kiss, you could see the sexual haze in his eyes as he gave you a few more hard thrusts before he shoved every last centimeter inside of you and finished.

it wouldn't dawn on you till the next morning that neither of you used protection.

"good girl." he said between pants.

you looked at him, arm still around his shoulders and your other hand in his hair, "not too bad yourself, max."

he pulled out and kissed you once more. his soaked, softening cock was pressed against your slit. he pulled away from the kiss and held your face for a moment, "will your father be worried if you're back late?"

you looked at him dead in the eyes and said, "i honestly don't care about him right now. i have my eye on the prize and that's to cum again. i need you, max."

"that kind of attitude might make me come to mercedes." he chuckled before he kissed you once more.

-

toto wolff was the type of man to get what he wanted. he was good that way, he knew exactly how to move the pieces. but sometimes the pieces surprised him.

like how his only daughter ended up in bed with max verstappen. and while you claimed that it was a one time thing for the benefit of mercedes! the timelines didn't add up when you told your father over dinner close to four months after that you were four weeks pregnant.

and the father was the current champion.

toto may have spat out his wine during dinner at the news. but little did he know that verstappen was a lot more willing to join mercedes if it meant being closer to his new woman. the head principal of the mercedes team believed that his future grandson would look a lot nicer in a black, silver and white onesie rather than the garish colours of red bull.

maybe the conditions that led to champion signing to a new team were unconventional and most likely to never be repeated. but as he watched you meet max at the paddock and grin as you pressed your forehead against his helmet, toto couldn't be too angry. business is messy and sacrifices had to be made. for toto that meant accepting max as a future son-in-law.

he did however believe he was far too young to be a grandfather. <3