#to the point that when I was older and finally let it down more on the regular I had an identity crisis 😂 fr

[alpaca-clouds]

Let's Talk About "Marvelfication"

Okay, let me try to get this out of my system, because I do have some thoughts on this one.

See, as you know, I finished Dragon Age: Veilguard last week. And I did enjoy the game. I never was that attached to the franchise. I really enjoyed Inquisition back in the day when it came out, but after doing two runs with it never have really returned to it. I also did play one of the older games, though I am not fully sure which one, because it was a long while ago. But I just never got that attached to the franchise. (Which mostly has to do with my own personal issues with High Fantasy.)

But that is not what I wanted to talk about. What I wanted to talk about is more the thing I have seen now multiple people call out: "The Marvelfication" as some have called it. And mind you, I absolutely do agree with this: There were several scenes in this game where I thought to myself: "This feels kinda MCU."

However, what I kinda want to talk about is the specific wording here: "Marvelfication." Because it is super understandable that the first thing that comes to mind (for me as well) is the MCU. But I think the issue is way deeper than "MCU is popular, so let's do something like the MCU".

A lot of folks on Youtube and other platforms have talked about how a lot of "tropes" that people blame on the MCU are actually older than the MCU. The reason people associate it with the MCU is moreso that the MCU is just fucking everywhere since it became this big thing. It is what defines the media landscape.

The big issue actually is another one, though: Those tropes are everywhere because in a more and more conservative media landscape they are considered safe. These types of jokes are not risky in any way. These types of characters are not risky. These types of stories are not risky.

It is stories that are set in societies that are messed up, and then there is a big conflict that only tangentally relates to the ways the societies are messed up in, and then that conflict is resolved but the status quo does not change.

And that more than anything is what I would criticize about the game. Outside of very prominently centering some trans issues, the game has taken very little risks.

I wrote about that a bit last week in comparison to BG3, how safe the companions in Veilguard feel. This shows so harshly in direct comparison to BG3, because really, Larian sat down with player and told you: "Those assholes are your companions. Take it or leave it." Those people I know who never finished BG3 mostly never did because they could not stand the companions. Meanwhile those who, like me, got obsessed with the game, mostly did it because it feels so fucking satisfying when you start to get through to the companions after they started out as those assholes. This satisfaction is something Veilguard never really offers you - because... Well, I can assume that some of these characters had some edges at some point. But whatever edges there had been, those have gotten smoothed down, so now everyone is perfectly sweet. Sure, they might argue a bit here or there, and if you make decisions they do not agree with, they are gonna be pissy with Rook for a bit, but that's the most of it.

Same with a lot of other stuff. There is basically no sexual content in this game. You get one sex scene that is super tame and you see nothing - and one to two kisses per romance. No risk.

Any no matter what kinda choice the characters make, they are all gonna be nice, you know?

There is one thing in the finale of the game that is kinda risky, I will admit. But I will not talk about that yet, because I knwo a lot of people have not finished the game.

But for the most part the game does not risk anything.

And really, that is the core of what folks call "Marvelfication". Because pretty much this is also the issue with Marvel and Star Wars and pretty much all American made media: Outside of some smaller productions, some of which do well with the tumblr crowd but barely get any attention from mainstream audience (*coughs* Interview with the Vampire *coughs*) there is little risk taken. The humor is the same everywhere because this humor is considered safe. The characters feel kinda samey everywhere, because those characters are safe.

It is why I have stopped going to the cinema, because these days there are barely any movies I consider worth watching. It is ironically also why I have recently watched a whole lot more Japanese stuff, because it is easier to find stuff there that does not play it that safe.

It is also why I do these days mostly consume western stuff that has a 18+ rating on it - because at least with that stuff I know that it probably is not gonna play it "safe".

I just wish some media took more risks. I want those medium budget projects back, that cost like 30-50 million, so can make a profit with 100 million at the box office, without doing billions. I want some stuff in there that is not a big IP. I just want... stuff.

Right now I am looking at the soon end of What We Do In The Shadows, mostly because it is one of the few things on right now that does some risky stuff. And I miss those SyFy low budget originals, because some of it was kinda risky. Ugh.

The issue is not Marvel. It is not even Disney. It is that the creative industries in the US right now mainly put out big budget stuff that because of that big budget needs to be loved by everyone.

And look, I am trans. Hence I absolutely do see some value in the fact that Bioware clearly took position and said: "Okay, we get to do one risky thing, so that thing is gonna be to incluse a variety of trans characters." Which I love and respect. But I kinda wish the game had not been quite that pretty and instead also included a bit more edges on the characters.

... But I guess in the end there is still fanfiction, where I can still make the characters messy. lol

[pedge-page]

aww imagine when ellie is a little older and she has one of those doctor kit toys, and joel gets a cut (or maybe a bruise or something like that) and ellies like "it's okay daddy i'll help you 🥺" and she runs with her little kit and puts on the stethoscope and does a little "check up" and takes his blood pressure and checks his temperature, and then she asks where his boo boo is 😭 and then she gives it a little kiss (bc thats what joel and reader do) and she's like "all better daddy :)" 😭😭😭 please that would send me into a coma that is too cute

notes: oh my god this was so adorable to think about, thank you so much for the baby fever.... I ran a little further with this one based off this ask!

Joel Dealing with Wife: Doctor Ellie

- - - -

Joel’s caught on to something pretty big here. His ever growing littler girl Ellie is quite the caretaker….of him especially. All he tolerated under you and Sarah finally met its match when Ellie quietly entered the world.

He started to realize it after she would burst into tears each time he’d trip on Sarah’s toys, or grunted at your shoulder slaps. But she only ever showed worry when it was him getting hurt.

And he couldn’t get enough of it. Okay sure, its wrong to make your kid worry about things they don’t understand isn’t quite worth stressing over, but he can’t help but fall into a giddy awe spell of greed seeing just how bent out she gets when she thinks he’s hurt. It started with big hugs for long minutes. Then she decided she needed to practice real medicine. The amount of bandaids this family has gone through despite no real injury is astounding to his wallet. 

But it’s commendable. She so carefully puts her warm hands over his forehead whenever he stubs his toe, or checks his pulse when he’s eaten something too hot. Doctor Ellie is always in the house, and ready to assist.

And maybe Daddy… goes a little too out of his way to bring her out.

Joel had just rammed a large plank of wood into his abdomen, not carefully checking its length before swinging it around as if he were still in his twenties. “Ugh--damnit!” He groans, clutching his side. The throb lasted for just a moment before dulling, and he was about to carry on his business when—

“DADDY!!!!” Ellie wails, followed by the patterpatterpatter of her little feet running as fast as they can take him towards his aid.

She’s etched with concern over her chunky face, grasping on her tip toes for his hands. “Daddy okay?” She asks with her high pitched, sweetie voice that gets his soft spot racing.

“Yea—No. No baby…I think—“ he clutches his side, as if remembering the near fatal accident he just suffered. “Uuughh---oh Ellie…I’m hurt. I’m hurt real bad.” He bends forward, one hand over his abdomen while the other covers his face. (He peeks through one squinted eye to see her reaction).

She gasps. “It’s okay daddy! I help make it better!”

She grasps his finger with her entire hand and leads him towards the living room. “Moo!” She commands to Spoon. “Amboolance! WEE WOO WEE!!” She waves her hands around to clear the way of the invisible traffic as Joel followed, half squatted and stiffly wobbling to match her short stature.

She quickly tosses a blanket on the carpet, pointing for Joel to lie down. He obliges, groaning more so from the cracks in his back and knee instead of the fake pain he’s been dishing out.

He watches as she digs frantically through the bin of various toys before retrieving her mobile hospital toy kit. With the stethoscope thrown on her waist (it’s for kids 8 and up and she isn’t quite the size yet), she puts the rounded part over Joel’s stomach. Then she presses her head on his injury as well, causing him to let out an oof and chuckle as she listens futally for his heartbeat. 

“I nee take look.”

She rolls up his shirt a few inches to uncover the invisible wound. 

“How bad is it, doc?” Joel pleas in dramatic desperation.

She tilts her head to the side, closing one eye with her palm before shaking her head.

“Nee sur—Sur gee.”

Joel puts together that’s surgery, and he’s starting to wonder where she’s learning all this hospital stuff….

She begins rummaging around for her other toys before announcing “Knife!”

Joel’s head sits right up, eyes wide in Father-panic mode that she may have gotten her hands on an actual—

She instead pulls her yellow and green kids-cooking toy plastic knife that is meant to part velcroed plastic vegetables, and realistically couldn’t even slice through two strands of hair. He lets out a sigh, leaning back and letting her continue with her critical patient.

“Snack time!”

Of course you just had to interrupt their special Daddy-daughter only playtime with fucking snack ti—oh is that apple slices and peanut butter?

Ellie drops everything, sits on her butt almost like a dog and awaits patiently for her snack. Conveniently Spoon has also come to sit automatically next to her, if the dog-analogy wasn’t evident enough.

“Interrupting surgery, babe,” Joel hums. 

“Surgery can wait after snack.”

Ellie wiggles her feet as you hold out a slice towards her mouth for her to bite and keep her hands clean. The room is silent minus the content, unhurried crunching of apple sizes.

“Okay baby, continue your surgery. What part are we at?” You ask, sucking a slice into your mouth as you also dip one into Joel’s open trap, giggling as he swallows it like an arcade ticket machine crunching away at his spoils. 

“Make cut,” she says plainly, searching around for that knife again.

You raise your brow suspiciously  but let any irrational thought go as she holds up her very non lethal kiddie knife.

Doctor Ellie starts serrating his belly fat back and forth with the dull piece of thick plastic.

It probably looks like real pain to her, were it not for him holding his breath as his chest and stomach puffing up and down, trying to hold his giggles and squirms together.

You watch Joel with raised brow, knowing he’s got tears in his eyes trying to play poker face so hard, knowing you’re there watching him get tickled by this thing and knowing he’s gonna deny it profusely. 

“Shouldn’t you put me under anesthesia—“

She slaps a piece of paper — the phony ticket from her train conductor set (Jesus, how many different toy sets did you guys get her?) — a little too carelessly, but enough to get the idea across that daddy needs to stop talking as she does careful work.

“Sew!” She announces, as if she has a nurse assistant handing her each tool. Although, technically, she does, but you seem more interested in wiping the plate of peanut butter and sucking it off your digits.

Joel’s eyes are closed, enjoying the serenity of lying on the floor. You don’t realize how good it is to be on the ground until you have kids, and now you’re constantly on the floor doing everything with them.

“Mommy…where sew?”

You shrug. They’ve got so many toys, you’re honestly not sure what creative thing she’s gonna come up with the “sew” Joel’s tummy. Given her use of the kids knife, you’re curious what kind of toy—

She pulls out a real sewing needle, point and sharp and definitely not kid approved along with fabric thread. It glints in her little hand for a brief moment as she dips to make contact on Joel’s skin—

“OOKAY Let’s not use that,” you yelp, grasping her arm carefully from going any further. Joel’s still got that stupid paper over his eyes, absolutely oblivious and too trusting of Ellie. 

Something else about kids: you can baby proof the fuck out of everything you didn’t even think needed baby proofing, and yet they will still —what does Jeff Goldblum say in the dinosaur movie?…—f’ind a way’. 

You remove the needle and thread from her grasp, position it inside a cotton swab and high out of her reach. You fashion a string of yarn wrapped around a q-tip instead, and hand it to her like it’s nothing. She takes it and goes back to “sewing” Joel’s tummy up, dragging the cottony tip over his naval.

His belly dips as he lets out a pained breath, trying so hard to act like he’s not tickled. 

“Am I gonna make it doc?” Joel asks curiously.

“Bluey!”

He doesn’t quite understand that answer, until she’s pulling out the packs of varied assortment of bandaids. It takes a few minutes to help her pull each sticky back off, but soon Joel’s got 4 bandaids of Paw Patrol on his stomach, one Bingo on top of his jeans, some chainsaw massacre’s on his arm, and a pretty hello kitty across his forehead. 

“All done!” She boasts happily.

“Nah uh! You need to make sure it stays better!”

“Oh—“ she bends down and kisses his belly, just like you and Joel always do whenever she gets a minor booboo. Kisses make everything better.

Minus the bacteria in your saliva but ya know it’s the placebo in the thought that really counts for the healing factor. 

“Give daddy one on the cheek for good measure,” he commands, pointing sternly into his face. She happily obliges with a fat “mmmmmwah!”

“Yay. Looks like he’ll live,” you muse a little too unhappily. Joel snickers, sitting upright. God, he somehow looks ridiculous and hot with hellow kitty plastered across his forehead. 

“Doc, do you think I need to come back in for a check up, ya know, just to see—“

But Ellie has already concluded her medical services, now hustling away to go find something else to do. 

-

Joel steps out to the backyard, where Sarah is cruising in her remote toy jeep with the 6 ducks packed in the passenger seat and trunk. 

She rolls to a stop, her brightly colored sunglasses peering up at her Dad. She sucks her ring pop silently, knowing the desperation he’s come to seek her out.

Sarah fully well knows Ellie has Joel in her back pocket, and she likes to let that play out. because ultimately… Sarah can also benefit from their needy relationship off one another.

Joel clears his throat, looking around as if he’s making an illegal trade. “I’ll give ya two ring pops if ya pretend to run me over. And not the face this time,” he warms, knowing she’’ll plea innocence to his own askings. “Just for Ellie to see.”

She sucks on her candy before pulling it out of her mouth with a loud pop. “I’d do it for free.”

----

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[jthealien]

Realistically I’m pretty sure Buddy is like around 19-21. (I’m in the camp of him being 19, close to 20) I don’t really see him being older than Deacon, at least not by much.

Imagine, though, if he was actually younger than Chase (e.g., maybe he turned 18 not long before the story starts). Him constantly calling Chase a brat would have a whole new layer of funny if Chase was older than him lmao.

But I think could also be really sad too. Like yeah, Buddy seems a lot older than he actually is (even Punko’s commented that he looks around 20) because he’s been forced to grow up quickly — act more mature since that’s what a villainess should be.

Even when he’s at his angriest (during the fight in beach boys) he still bitterly calls Chase a brat. Because, to him, being compared to a child is the highest insult.

A lot of his behaviors, like really loving sweet things or constantly making jabs at everyone, can be read as childish. (I should point out that these kinds of moments with him tend to happen when he lets his ‘villainess’ persona slip).

Hell, with how petty he can be, sometimes even Chase is more mature than him. But it makes sense if he was never allowed to get through those typical phases, if he’s had to act like an adult for a lot of his life.

But through Chase he realizes he can let down his guard and have fun — be a teenager for once. We see him slowly go from just an asshole, to a bit less of an asshole. One who can join in on Chase’s antics and express more emotions besides Smug and Barely Repressed Rage. He can finally be himself. :]

[estellan0vella]

Sunshine's Guide To Murder│Lee Minho

Chapter Twenty: Cool Cool Cool SS: 13 (ignore time stamps and dates) Word Count: 1.1K & 0.4K Content Warnings: Talks of framing someone for murder, discussion of death by choking on vomit, talks of hiding a body Previous Next Masterlist

Hayun raps her knuckles against the peeling paint of Yeji’s apartment door. The air is cool, the streetlights casting long shadows across the run-down building, but her stance is unwavering. After a moment, the door creaks open, and Ryujin leans against the frame, eyebrow raised as she takes in Hayun’s short, green silk dress, and sneakers. There’s a smirk tugging at her lips.

“Here for a fix?” Ryujin’s voice is casual, but there’s a hardness underneath, something testing in her gaze.

Hayun crosses her arms, shaking her head. “I need to talk to you.”

Ryujin rolls her eyes, pushing off the door frame as she glances back inside the apartment. “Alright,” she mutters, and gestures for Hayun to follow. “Let’s take this outside. I don’t want to deal with Yeji’s bullshit if she overhears.”

They head down the worn staircase, the building’s creaks and groans filling the silence between them until they step out into the back garden. A dimly lit, overgrown patch of yard greets them, offering just enough privacy for a conversation. Ryujin slouches against the railing, her eyes fixed on Hayun with a mix of curiosity and irritation.

Hayun doesn’t waste any time. “Mingi’s going down,” she states, her voice cool but laced with satisfaction. “The police found the tapes.”

Ryujin quirks a brow, giving a sardonic chuckle. “With a helping hand, I suppose?”

Hayun shrugs, a small smirk playing on her lips. “More like a pointing finger, but whatever works, right?”

Ryujin shakes her head, lips curling into a dry smile. “So, now you’re trying to figure out who killed my sister, is that it?”

“We both already know who that was, don’t we, Ryujin?” Hayun’s gaze is steady, unwavering. “Your own sister drugged you and served you up to Mingi. That’s enough to drive anyone to murder.”

The words hang heavily in the air, but Ryujin doesn’t flinch. Instead, her expression hardens, and she tilts her head, studying Hayun with a kind of detached defiance.

“Yeji helped you cover it up, didn’t she?” Hayun presses, her voice quiet but firm. “So, where’s Yuna’s body?”

Ryujin snorts, crossing her arms. “Yeji hid it,” she admits, her tone indifferent. “I don’t know where she put Yuna. That way, if the cops ever find her, I can play innocent. No way to trace it back to me if I don’t even know where she is.”

Hayun’s expression doesn’t change; she’d expected as much. “And Chaeryeong?” she asks, her voice softening, though her gaze remains intense.

Ryujin shakes her head slowly. “I don’t know about Chaeryeong.”

Hayun nods, letting the silence settle for a moment. Then, she glances away, eyes fixed on the murky street beyond the fence as if gathering her thoughts. Finally, she speaks, her voice low, almost hesitant. “I’m not going to turn you in, Ryujin. But I need to know… what happened that night?”

Ryujin’s jaw tightens, and she glances away, her eyes narrowing as she stares into the darkness. When she finally speaks, her voice is stripped of its usual bravado, raw and bitter.

“She’d met up with that mystery older man of hers. She came back bleeding from her head—they’d fought, I guess.” Ryujin’s face twists into a grimace. “Guess he’d had enough of the blackmail. When she stumbled in, she looked pathetic, whining about how she was losing control. I… I lost it, Hayun.”

There’s a dark, almost haunted look in Ryujin’s eyes as she continues, her voice rough with resentment and a hint of guilt. “I pushed her. She hit the floor, and I just… left her there. When I came back later, she’d vomited and choked on it. She was dead.”

Hayun listens quietly, her face unreadable as Ryujin relives the moment. She lets the silence hang for a moment, absorbing the weight of Ryujin’s confession.

Finally, Hayun steps forward, her voice steady but filled with a quiet intensity. “I have a plan, and I need your help—and Yeji’s.”

Ryujin’s brows shoot up, the hint of a smirk returning. “I’m listening.”

Hayun’s gaze hardens, and she takes a steadying breath. “I want to frame Mingi for Yuna’s murder.”

For the first time, something close to admiration flickers in Ryujin’s eyes. She straightens, an approving grin spreading across her face. “I’m in,” she says, her voice tinged with a dark thrill.

Ryujin leans back against the cracked brick wall, her eyes gleaming as she sizes up Hayun with a twisted admiration. “I’ve got a few pieces of Yuna’s jewelry stashed away,” she says, almost as if proud of her careful preservation of her sister’s keepsakes.

Hayun gives a curt nod, her mind working quickly. “Good. Get someone to plant them in Mingi’s apartment. And Yeji… tell her to plant something linked to wherever she stashed Yuna. That way, when the police sweep the place, they’ll find enough to make a murder charge stick.”

Ryujin grins, her expression dark and excited. “You want all this done tonight?” she asks, already knowing the answer but enjoying the sheer audacity of it.

Hayun’s gaze is steely. “Tonight,” she says. “Police will be after Mingi tomorrow, and once they’ve got him, the apartment’s a crime scene. You know what that means.”

Ryujin nods slowly, her grin widening. “They all underestimated you, didn’t they? Sunshine Hayun, turning ruthless in the name of justice. Plotting to frame a man for murder…” She laughs, a low, almost reverent sound. “Who knew?”

Hayun shrugs, her face expressionless as she turns to leave. “Who didn’t,” she mutters, barely above a whisper, more to herself than anyone else.

Without another word, she heads off, her footsteps crunching against the scattered gravel as she leaves the dimly lit garden behind. The night air is cool against her skin, a thin veil of mist settling over the street. She shoves her hands into her pockets, her thoughts racing, the plan ticking over in her mind as she walks, one step at a time, closer to home. The air feels almost electric, charged with the risk she’s taken, the trap she’s setting.

But as she turns down a quieter street, something doesn’t feel right. It’s quiet—too quiet. Before she can react, a hand clamps over her mouth, pressing a damp rag against her nose and mouth. She gasps, and a sickly sweet, overpowering scent fills her lungs. She twists, struggling, elbows jabbing backwards in a desperate attempt to fight her way free. Her body thrashes, adrenaline surging as she claws at the arm holding her.

But her vision starts to blur. The world around her begins to darken, her limbs going heavy and uncooperative. Her heart pounds, a distant, fading beat as her strength drains away. With a final, feeble attempt to push back, she loses her grip on consciousness, slipping into blackness, the streetlights fading to stars.

And then nothing.

Minho’s foot slams down hard on the brake as he pulls up outside Yeji’s dingy apartment complex, the tires skidding slightly on the uneven pavement. He barely has the engine off when he and Jisung jump out, both tense and grim, their eyes scanning the shadows of the building’s entrance. Spotting Ryujin leaning against the door, Minho strides over, his face set in a hard line.

Jisung’s eyes narrow immediately. “Where the hell’s Hayun?”

Ryujin’s gaze doesn’t falter as she straightens, crossing her arms. “I don’t know. She left here about an hour ago. And for the record, she was sober. Didn’t take a damn thing.”

Minho, running a hand through his hair, tries to keep his cool, though his face betrays his worry. “Why was she here, Ryujin?”

Ryujin gives a faint smirk, but it doesn’t reach her eyes. “That’s between us girls, unfortunately.”

Minho grits his teeth. “Funny, considering Chan just found her phone smashed on a street nearby and no sign of her.”

Ryujin’s expression flickers, her eyes narrowing. “You’re saying she’s missing? You think someone took her?”

Jisung runs a hand over his face, his voice barely concealing his frustration. “She wouldn’t just disappear like that. Not unless—”

Minho interrupts, his voice steady but edged with a dangerous calm. “If she’s not high, then it makes no sense. She was meeting you for a reason.”

Ryujin sighs, her eyes darting between them. “Alright, alright. I’ll get Yeji to put out some feelers, see what comes up. But you two better be prepared… If this was Mingi…” She shakes her head, a dark look crossing her face. “Let’s just say you should pray it was anyone else.”

Jisung’s jaw clenches. “And what if it wasn’t him?” He swallows, his voice thick. “What if it was one of the killers? If Hayun found out who killed Yuna or… or Chaeryeong.”

Ryujin lets out a breath, glancing away before answering, her voice deliberately measured. “Then you boys better get searching. I’ll work my side, but I’ll tell you this. Before Yuna disappeared, she was getting cold feet with Mingi and Lia. Mingi wasn’t happy. Thought maybe she was working with the cops or something.”

Minho’s gaze sharpens, his fists clenching at his sides. “So, you’re saying you think it’s Mingi?”

Ryujin hesitates, then shakes her head, her expression inscrutable. “No. I think it’s whoever killed Chaeryeong. Mingi’s the kind of guy who’d be planning his exit right now, not sticking around for this. It’s the unknown you should be worried about.”

Jisung glances at her, a hard edge to his voice. “So you’re saying you think Mingi killed Yuna?”

Ryujin lifts her chin, her eyes meeting his steadily. “That’s my theory.”

Taglist: @hityoulikebahng @drewsandsebastianswife @fackeraccount @lily-loves-kpop @stilldontknowhoiam

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@heeseungspookie @smigcrazy @skzstannie @nightmarenyxx

Side Rant: I spent 40 hours playing AOT 2: Final Battle only to die at the end saving crystalised Annie. That is my character's CANON ENDING. I am not impressed but am going to play the game again

[formulapookie]

🧡💚

See yourself through my eyes mignelli, 2.5k words

The call arrives at around 7 pm, while they’re at the Ranch, Mig luckily isn't racing at that moment. He’s talking with Bez, smiling and waving at the camera, unsure if it’s a pic or a video being taken, his phone left next to him because he had to read a few texts from his family, not actually expecting the call that eventually arrives.

 When the phone rings he expects the caller to be his mother, but as soon as he takes it in hand his face freezes. It’s Laura, the manager of Italtrans Racing, who told him he would get a call, either confirming or denying his attendance to the Barcelona GP as a replacement rider.

He’s nervous, he doesn’t want to pick up. He can’t bear another sport-related delusion, not now that he’s finally managing to almost accept that he’s not racing anymore. Migbabol is not bad. It’s not racing, nothing is, but it’s ok.

They chose someone else.You’re not going to race.Stop believing in fairytales.

He accepts the call, going far from everyone else, Bez saw the contact name, he knows who he’s answering to, but he doesn’t follow, just waits for Mig to come back there.

“Hello?” “Hi andrea it’s Laura, from Kalex” “Yes good morning, I was waiting for the call “We analyzed all the riders we took into consideration” “And you chose?” “Yes, you will be racing in Barcellona together with Stefano Manzi, you will be given leathers and all you need once arrived” “...” “Andrea you there?” “Yes yes I’m here thank you so much I’m preparing everything now, Tuesday I’ll be in Barcellona, thank you so much for the opportunity” “See you Andrea” “Thank you again, see you in Barcellona”

He hangs up, fingers trembling as he presses the red button, a few seconds pass where he stares into the distance, he doesn’t hear either Bez’s or Franky’s step behind him.

He just feels the tears accumulate in his eyes, threatening to fall out, he crouches down to the ground and begins crying, only at that point he realizes he’s not alone anymore, when a pair of hands he knows much too well surround his shoulders, he can feel the tension radiating from the palms.

Franky lifts his chin up to hug him better but when he does he finds the biggest smile he’s seen on Mig in a long while, his eyes widen, a smile starting to grow on his face as well.

“I’m racing. Franky I’m racing” “Oh my God”

Franky hugs him so tight the oxygen gets knocked out of his lungs, they’re both laughing like idiots, Franky actually makes them both fall to the ground, Mig doesn’t even actually understand anything about his surroundings, he just repeats in his mind over and over again he’s gonna race again.

Franky breaks away from the hug just to kiss him, many many times, an unholy amount of lips clashing against each other and Mig laughing at every single touch, tears falling once again from his eyes as his boyfriend keeps kissing his lips and telling him how happy he is they’re both gonna race on Sunday.

“I can’t believe it” “I can, I believed it before the call I can believe it now Andre, you deserve this so much, you deserve this seat more than many other people out there, I just am so fucking happy you’re back on track”

Mig starts crying from happiness again, it’s just to replace another rider, but he doesn’t care, it means being back on the grid, in Moto2, on a fucking bike, racing with other people, two of which he knows very well, Cele and Manzo, and oh god he’s gonna fucking faint.

Him and Franky are now covered in mud and grass, he’s ended up in Franky’s lap and the older is keeping him close, hugging him and unable to let go, Bez is watching them smiling. Cele came over when he saw the scene, happy for Mig as well, and Bez loops a hand around his waist pulling him close, leaving a kiss on his head, before whispering in his ear they should both go back and let the two enjoy a moment alone.

“I’m so happy Andre oh God, when I saw you crying I thought they didn’t sign you for the race and I was about to fucking kill them but then - you were smiling and I just can’t be happier for you” “I’m still not believing this, they chose me” “Because you deserve it Andre, because you’re talented and worth so much more than what you think”

Mig goes back to crying, face buried in Franky’s chest, and he strokes his back gently, continuously telling him he deserves it, that he knew it would come. Mig stays there for minutes, Franky’s progressively calmer heartbeat helping him to calm down his own, tears now drying on his cheeks and Franky’s chest, neither cares, they’re just them right now, he knows the boys will congratulate him , but that will be later on, he’s starting to feel the grass and mud on him.

“Shower? we’re completely stained by everything on the ground” “Yeah definitely”

Mig gets up, pulling his boyfriend up by the hand, walking to the common showers, where the others are washing themselves as well. They cheer for Mig once he gets in, he almost cries again, but tries to keep a certain facade, maybe just because Casey Stoner is in the room as well.

Once they’re all cleaned up he tells everyone he forgot something in his room upstairs, giving an extra glance at Franky, which immediately springs up from the bench he’s sitting on in the changing room and running behind him.

“Come on before they begin serving dinner” “Franky I honestly don’t give a fuck about dinner I just want you” “I love you” “I love you too but please now let’s go I want to get to my room” “Yeah yeah”

They basically stumble in the room, clothes falling to the ground as soon as the door is closed behind them, jackets and shirts hitting the floor at lightspeed, trousers disappearing at the same rhythm, they remain in boxers as Franky cups Mig’s face with his hands and pulls him in for a proper kiss, this time pushing his tongue past his lips, basically devouring him, as Mig works to get off both their underwear as well.

In a matter of seconds they’re both completely naked, Mig’s legs hitting the bed first, Franky laying him down on the mattress and climbing up on it, caging the younger between him and the bed, not wasting any time and immediately beginning to kiss at his neck and jaw, leaving small bruises all over them, planning on going back there later and give him proper hickeys.

“Franky hurry up please” “I’m gonna make you understand how much you deserve that seat Andre” “Fuck please yes”

It’s all very rushed, it’s all heat and heavy breathing and need, but there’s so much more buried under the surface. Franky gets the lube from the nightstand, but eventually leaves it on the side as he tells Mig to move to the center of the bed and open his legs, then he starts stroking his dick, just to tease, and in two split seconds his mouth is on him, at first teasing just the head of Mig’s dick, then swallowing him almost whole.

Mig arches his back, not expecting Franky to go down on him so suddenly, his brain is already overheating, his boyfriend’s lips are just so fucking perfect, they’re soft and big and plump and they feel so good around him. He can’t even suppress his moans, not that he cares, not when Franky looks so fucking hot and he’s on a high for getting the news he’s gonna race once again.

Each sensation is multiplied by a hundred times, each centimeter of skin feels ten times more receptive, each movement Franky makes feels so perfect.

Mig has one hand buried in his boyfriend’s hair, the other gripping at the sheets to keep him attached to the moment, Franky picks up his pace and Mig feels blessed, like everything good ever happened in his life happened in the span of that past half hour he spent accepting reality.

He feels progressively closer to the edge, the heat in his lower stomach pooling there, Franky’s hands holding him down by the hips feel burning now, like they’re leaving marks just by being there, and God does Mig wish to have marks after this.

He opens his mouth to warn Franky he’s close but as soon as he does he’s already there, filling up Franky’s mouth, who doesn’t complain in the slightest, just swallows everything and licks him clean.

“That was - fuck that was the best blowjob you gave me in a while” “Mh are you saying I’m not good usually?” “No no but this- yeah this was by far something else” “Pass me the lube yeah?”

Mig nods and hands him the little bottle, Franky pours some on his fingers, coating them as best as he can before moving back up to kiss him, simultaneously pushing two fingers in, not bothering with starting with just one given they had sex at lunch break because they both needed to release some stress.

Mig is moaning in his mouth, one hand still in his hair and one tight around his bicep, feeling the muscle twitch under his fingertips.

“You’re so beautiful Andre, so beautiful and you’ll look even better on friday on that bike” “I'm gonna come again right now if you keep telling me this”

The two of them laugh in the kiss, Franky keeps his promise to leave hickeys on Mig’s neck, starting to suck blue and purplish bruises all over the sensitive skin there, while adding a third finger, thrusting in and out, scissoring them to get Mig to do his pretty whimpers, which morph into loud moans once he finds his prostate and hits it repetitively.

“Please I’m ready I’m ready”

And normally Franky would go on teasing him for a while more, just because he can, and because it gets Mig stupid, but right now he wants to make him feel so good he can’t think anymore.

He takes out his fingers and immediately pushes his dick in, despite going a few hours prior and opening him up he always feels big inside Mig, and they both love that, especially Mig, and right now, with his sensitivity being much more than normal, he feels the stretch even more, and it makes him go crazy. They both moan once Franky goes all the way in, then stops for a second and just when he’s about to start moving Mig stops him.

“wait wait wait” “Am I hurting you? Do you want to stop?” “No no, it’s all good just- I want to ride you please” “Ok fuck yeah do it please”

Franky slips out and sits on the bed, Mig climbs in his lap and wastes no time in sinking down on his cock, moaning once again at the intrusion as he rests his forehead on Franky’s shoulder.

He bites at the meat there making Franky whine and then he starts moving, letting out little moans every time he sinks back down, ad he leaves a trail of wet kisses all over the older’s neck just to reach his lips once again, and bite them lightly, Franky gladly accepting, then taking back control and guiding his movement with a hand on Mig’s hips and one on the back of his neck, which he uses to pull him closer and once he’s there make out properly with him, swallowing every little sound coming from the younger.

The hand on Mig’s hip leaves his place to go squeeze his ass, Franky goes mad for it, Mig is just perfect, there’s a reason why Franky’s favorite position is doggystyle, he can see that ass jiggle every time he thrusts in, and he can get his hands on it, leaving marks which usually last for days even.

So it’s no surprise when he gives him a light slap there, making Mig bite his lip to contain a moan, because now Franky is kissing at his chest, so there’s no lips quieting down his sounds. The older starts sucking on his pecs, marking him up, dark red hickeys begin to form on his skin, one just under the tattoo Mig has on his left pec, and Mig is just moaning louder and louder, picking up his pace, even if his thighs are trembling already.

He just keeps going, moaning louder and louder as he gets close to his release, Franky starts meeting him halfway, thrusting up his hips and getting deeper inside of Mig, who throws his head back and moans Franky’s name again. At this point the older wraps a hand around his neck, forcing him to look up, the hand on his ass keeping him stable enough to keep riding him.

“I’m close Franky - close very close” “Yeah I feel it, fuck you get so tight when you’re on edge” “Come inside me please” “I love you Andre” “Kiss me”

Their lips are clashing again in one split second, and Franky immediately moves the hand wrapped around Mig’s neck to his dick, stroking it in time with his thrusts, making him come hard all over their abs, and he’s quick to follow, coming inside him, white liquid filling Mig up, and then they’re both collapsing on the bed, a smile painted on their faces as Mig rests his head on Franky’s chest.

“Can’t wait to see you get podium so I can cover you in champagne” “You’re disgusting” “Mh yeah tell me you wouldn’t like it come on” “Would prefer it if we were both on the podium and you soaked me with it” “Fuck amore I’m gonna dream about that now” “I always dream about that”

They kiss again, way less charged, Mig smiling at the contact of lips, Franky stroking his back gently.

“Do you want to go have dinner?” “Nah I don’t care, I want to sleep” “I’ll go downstairs and steal something from the fridge later then ok?” “Sounds nice”

They fall asleep quickly, the sex and the training getting to them, Franky holds him closer than ever before, and Mig couldn’t be happier than he is right now.

[quixot1sm]

Hear me out: N and Hilbert going back to the ferris wheel with their kid

this is very very sweet (and i most certainly will be doodling something about this at some point) but i think, when their kid's grown enough to ask why they're so sentimental about the old thing, the following conversation would be pretty funny to overhear. well this is where your father rejected me<3

[harrysfolklore]

little bitch - cs55

summary: yn piastri and carlos sainz absolutely hate each other. carlos thinks she’s immature, yn calls him a little bitch on social media. they also kiss every now and then. PART TWO

word count: over 10k + social media posts

folkie radio: guys this fic is my baby okay 🥲🥲 please take care of it i spent like two weeks writing it. FEEDBACK IS ENCOURAGED AND APPRECIATED !!

MASTERLIST | MY PATREON

2023 SEASON

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ynpiastri that’s my optimistic little brother cry about it 😚 see y’all after the break

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username1 LAJSIA SO MESSY

username2 yn really said you will NAWT mess with my little brother

lilyzneimer Love you forever 😂

↳ ynpiastri ilysm

username3 the sainz - piastri drama just spiced this season up

mclaren That’s our boy 🧡

username4 carlos sainz and yn piastri fighting on the internet and oscar is just 🧍

username5 the fact that daniel ricciardo and pierre gasly liked yn’s tweet too 😭

landonorris Stop fighting people on the internet please

↳username1 HELP HIS BESTIES ARE FIGHTING

↳ ynpiastri never 😤

oscarpiastri When nobody got me I know my messy sister got me

↳ username2 I LOVE THEM SM

↳ yourinstagram HE SAID NO PICKLES !!

───────── ౨ৎ ─────────

"You didn't have to tweet that," Oscar said, giving you a look from his seat.

You were currently traveling from Belgium to Monaco in McLaren's private jet after the race weekend, and the main topic of the day was your little message to Carlos Sainz after his statement about your brother.

"Osc, he's being a petty bitch," you shrugged, "He keeps blaming you for what happened on the track and we all know it was his fault."

"Lando, can you help me out please?" Oscar looked at his teammate, who was immersed on his phone as a way to avoid the conversation.

"Oh no, don't put me in the middle of this," Lando shook his head, "I have enough PR issues myself."

"We know you're siding with your bestie anyways," you said, making him roll his eyes.

This dynamic was nothing new. Lando and Carlos Sainz were best friends, and so were Lando and you. The issue? You couldn't stand Carlos at all, and Lando was always in the middle of your bickering.

Oscar sighed, rubbing his temples as he glanced out of the window. "Look, I appreciate you standing up for me, but sometimes it's better to let things slide. Engaging with him on social media only adds fuel to the fire."

He had a point. Deep down you knew it, however, your were short tempered and protective towards your loved ones, so it was natural that you took the chance to come for Sainz's neck when he gave you a reason to.

"I get it, Osc. I just can't stand seeing him drag your name through the mud when you're not even at fault," you stressed, "You're my little brother, I'll always get protective, you know?"

"I know, and I appreciate you having my back," Oscar said, softening his tone. "But it's not worth it. Like you said, I'm not engaging with whatever he's saying so there's no point of starting stuff."

"He started it, I'm just finishing it," you shrugged, and Oscar gave you a pointed look, you were older than him, but he was definitely more mature than you. "Fine, I'll try to hold back next time," you sighed, leaning back in your seat.

Lando finally looked up from his phone, a smirk on his face. "See, that wasn't too hard, was it? Now, can we all be friends?"

"If that includes Sainz then no, we can't,"

You could never be friends with Carlos Sainz. That was literally impossible.

For starters, you were pretty sure he didn't even know your name, he was always too full of himself to even acknowledge those around him.

And lastly, he was a bitch to your brother on and off track.

"I just, I would really like for you two to get along," Lando said and you immediately rolled your eyes at his words, "You're both important to me, and it sucks being caught in the middle. Plus I don't even understand why do you dislike him so much."

You knew the real reason why you disliked him so much, you perfectly did. However, that was a subject that you decided to ignore every single time.

"Honestly? I find him arrogant. He always acts like he's the center of the universe. He never takes responsibility for his actions and always tries to shift the blame onto others. It's frustrating to watch."

Lando sighed, running a hand through his hair. "I get it, but you have to understand, Carlos is actually a good guy once you get to know him. He's passionate and competitive, sure, but he's also loyal and a great friend."

"I get that he's like your hero or something," you teased, "But it's not going to happen, Lando. I don't think I'll ever like Carlos, and I really wish you’d stop pushing the subject."

"Look, you don't have to be his best friend or something," Oscar intervened, "Just promise me you won't punch him when you see him in the paddock after the summer break."

"No promises."

───────── ౨ৎ ─────────

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ynpiastri a weekend in monaco with some of my favorite people 🤍 back to race cars soooon (love being a nepo sister)

tagged: oscarpiastri, lilyzneimer, alexandrasaintmleux, landonorris

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username1 SLAAAY

username2 ahhhh lily x oscar content thank u yn

francisca.cgomes having major fomo rn, love you all babies 🥲

↳ ynpiastri get over hereeeee

username3 she has the dream life

charles_leclerc Stop stealing my girlfriend from me thank you

↳ ynpiastri never

↳ alexandrasaintmleux We’re like this 👩‍❤️‍💋‍👩

↳ charles_leclerc Don’t do this to me

lilyzneimer 🤍

oscarpiastri I think you just invented the term “nepo sister”

↳ ynpiastri and i’m too iconic for that

───────── ౨ৎ ─────────

Going to Jimmy'z the last day of the summer break was a tradition among the drivers at this point.

You looked forward to it, for you, nothing could beat a night of loud music, drinks and friends. You thought that was the reason you got along with Lando and quickly became best friends.

“Ready to tear up the dance floor?” Lando shouted over the music, giving you smirk

“Always!” you replied, grabbing his hand and dragging him towards the center of the action, Oscar and Lily being their introvert selves decided to stay at the table with some of your friends.

After a few songs, you returned to the table to catch your breath and order another round of drinks.

Oscar looked up from his conversation with Lily and smiled as you approached.

“Having fun?” he asked.

“Absolutely,” you replied, taking a seat next to him. “You two should join us on the dance floor.”

Lily laughed softly. “Maybe later. Right now, we’re enjoying people-watching.”

“Suit yourselves,” you said, shrugging, "I'm going to the bar, does anyone want anything?"

Oscar shook his head. "No, thanks. I'm good."

"I'll have another gin and tonic," Lily said, giving you a warm smile.

"Got it," you replied, turning towards the bar.

As you made your way through the crowded club, you found an open spot at the bar and flagged down the bartender. As you waited for your drinks, you felt someone step up beside you. Glancing to your left, you saw the last person you wanted to run into tonight... or ever.

Carlos Sainz was standing there with what you called his "resting bitch face" and acting like he owned the place.

You knew chances of him being at Jimmy'z for the last day of the summer break were high and you had decided earlier that you were just going to ignore him for the night if you ever ran into him. After all, you were there to have fun, not to get into a confrontation. But you were known for being short-tempered, a stark contrast to your brother's laid-back demeanor.

When you heard Carlos order his drink without so much as a “please,” you couldn't help but call him out.

"Whiskey, neat," he ordered, his tone clipped and lacking any form of politeness, his Spanish accent that you found absolutely irritating coming through.

“A 'please' would be nice, you know,” you interjected.

Carlos turned to you, his brow furrowing. “Excuse me?”

“You heard me,” you replied coolly. “It's not hard to be polite.”

"Do I know you?" Carlos stared at you for a moment before recognition dawned. “Oh you're Piastri's sister, aren't you?”

“That I am,” you confirmed, your tone equally cold.

“Figures," Carlos scoffed, shaking his head, "You’re the one who sent me that lovely message on Twitter.”

“You deserved every word,” you replied, crossing your arms.

“Did I now?” Carlos leaned closer, his expression hardening. “You don't even know the whole story. You just assume I'm the bad guy because of Oscar."

“I know enough,” you shot back. “I know you never take responsibility for your actions. You always blame someone else.”

“And what about you?," Carlos’s jaw tightened, "Hiding behind your keyboard, throwing insults. That's real mature.”

“Someone had to say it,” you replied, refusing to back down. “You can't just go around acting like you're untouchable.”

“And you can't go around thinking you're some kind of vigilante,” Carlos retorted. “Can't your little brother handle things himself?.”

“Maybe if you weren't such a jerk, people wouldn't have to call you out,” you snapped, feeling your temper flare.

Carlos sighed, clearly frustrated. “Look, I don't have time for this. Just stay out of my way, alright?”

“Gladly,” you replied, turning away from him.

When you rejoined your friends, they noticed your tense expression. Lando shot you a questioning look, but you just shook your head.

"Ask you bestie," you simply said and Lando threw his head back in frustration, once again, he was in the middle of his two best friends tension.

“I’ll talk to him," Lando said, sipping on his drink.

"Don't bother, he's a bitch."

Later that night, Lando found Carlos near the dancefloor chatting with some friends. He pulled him aside, needing to get to the bottom of the latest incident.

“What happened with YN now?” Lando asked, trying to keep his tone casual.

Carlos shrugged before speaking, “I was minding my own business, ordering a drink, and she just came at me."

“And?” Lando raised an eyebrow.

“And she’s just so immature and arrogant,” Carlos continued, “She’s always ready to pick a fight over the smallest things. It’s embarrassing.”

Lando shook his head. “Look, Carlos, YN is protective of Oscar. She sees you two butting heads and she gets defensive. It’s not ideal, but it’s not like she’s completely unreasonable.”

“Well, she sure seems unreasonable to me," Carlos crossed his arms, "I don’t know how you deal with it.”

Lando sighed. “She’s my friend, and so are you. I wish you two could just get along, but I know that’s asking a lot. Just... try to give her a bit of slack, alright? She’s not a bad person.”

"She's insufferable."

───────── ౨ৎ ─────────

ynpiastri has added to their stories

carlossainz55 replied to your story

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liked by alexandrasaintmleux, oscarpiastri and 168,373 others

ynpiastri little bitches everywhere, always a pleasure monza

tagged: landonorris, charles_leclerc

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username1 HEEEELP

username2 she’s so messy we needed this 😭

lilyzneimer I can’t wait to hear this rant in person

↳ username1 LET ME INNNNN

username3 IS THIS CARLOS SHADEEEE

username4 not her adding the radio message

landonorris I would like to be excluded from this narrative

↳ ynpiastri scared of your boyfriend??

↳ username2 THEY’RE SO TALKING ABOUT CARLOS 😭

charles_leclerc Did you call me a little bitch?

↳ ynpiastri you’re literally the only ferrari i like..

↳ username3 she really hates carlos i’m screaming

───────── ౨ৎ ─────────

The Ferrari hospitality was the last place you wanted to be during a Grand Prix, the mere thought of it being the place where Sainz (or as you liked to call him, the little bitch), was most likely to be kept you away from it.

However, Alex told you to meet her there after the Qualifying so you could leave together for dinner. Oscar and Lando already left with the rest of the team, so you had no choice but to wait for your friend.

"Looking for someone, hermosa?" your eyes immediately rolled without even turning around to see who was speaking, the thick Spanish accent that you despised filling your ears.

"Not for you, that's for sure," you said, not even bothering to face him.

"Are you sure? Because this is not the McLaren garage, did your little bro finally kick you out or something?"

"Sainz," you retorted sharply, finally turning to face him, "Shouldn't you be busy making excuses for your next mediocre performance on track?"

"Ah, always so angry, Piastri," he chuckled, unfazed by your hostility, "Maybe you're just frustrated because you're not getting enough attention. I could help with that."

"I don't need or want anything from you," you shot back, your voice laced with irritation.

Carlos leaned casually against a nearby wall, his smirk widening. "Come on, hermosa, you know you've got a temper. Maybe you just need to let off some steam."

Hermosa, the word he used often when he wanted to get to your skin. When you first heard it, you had no idea of what it meant. You were never good at learning Spanish growing up. But after a quick google translation search you found out that it meant beautiful. And for some reason you felt like throwing up.

"Believe me, Sainz, you're the last person I'd ever turn to," you replied icily, folding your arms across your chest, "And don't call me that."

He chuckled again, seemingly enjoying your discomfort. You wondered how Lando could be friends with him when he was nothing but an arrogant little bitch, and you cursed Alexandra for taking so long to get her stuff from hospitality.

"I hope you know that you have some serious issues, Sainz," you said, your patience wearing thin as his cocky stare weighted on you.

"Issues? Me?," Carlos raised an eyebrow, clearly entertained by your anger, "I think you're the one with the problem, querida. Like I said, maybe you need to get laid. I could help you with that, your brother won't find out."

Your eyes narrowed, your blood boiled to the point where you could feel your skin burning up. If it wasn't for the all the people around, you swore you could've punched him.

You took a step closer to him, your voice dropping to a deadly whisper. "I hope your car sets itself on fire so you're not able to race tomorrow."

Carlos's smirk only widened, he was well aware that he got into your skin and he enjoyed every minute of it. Before he could respond, Alex finally appeared, her eyes flicking between the two of you with a mix of curiosity and concern.

"Ready to go?" she asked, sensing the tension.

"More than ready," you replied, shooting Carlos one last glare before turning to leave with Alex.

The next day, news spread quickly through the paddock that Carlos' car had suffered a mechanical failure during the warm-up, rendering him unable to compete in the Qatar Grand Prix. Meanwhile, Oscar had won the Sprint and finished P2 in the race.

Karma got that little bitch, you thought to yourself

───────── ౨ৎ ─────────

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ynpiastri season over and out. super proud of you, rookie of the year @/oscarpiastri 🥹

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username1 i’m going to miss this season sm

username2 proud sisssss

mclaren One for the books 🧡

username3 thank you for fighting sainz online all season long bestie

landonorris Little Oscar is all grown up now

↳ ynpiastri don’t say that i’ll cry

lilyzneimer 🫶🫶🫶

username4 highlight of the season was the piastri - sainz beef

↳ username1 not for lando 😭

oscarpiastri Thank you for always supporting me (creating drama online and all) Love you so much ❤️

↳ ynpiastri that’s what big sisters are for

───────── ౨ৎ ─────────

The end of the 2023 season was a blur of celebrations, laughter, and champagne showers. Oscar had closed off the season as the Rookie of the Year and you couldn't be more proud of him, you were grateful you got to be by his side through it.

And of course, with the end of the season a celebration at Jimmy'z was in order, all drivers, their girlfriends and friends pulling up to Monaco for one last night of partying before the winter break.

You had stuck close to Lando and Oscar for most of the evening, since it was a special occasion, you decided not to hold back with your drinking and have as much fun as you wanted, Lando being your partner in crime as always.

So by 2 a.m, you were pretty drunk, not to the point where you couldn't stand on your own feet, but drunk enough to make a couple of bad decisions.

With that thought on your mind, you decided that it was time to find your brother or best friend and call it a night. But for some reason, both of them were nowhere to be found.

Stumbling through the crowded dance floor, you made your way toward the back of the club, hoping to spot them. The alleyway was dark and you couldn't see a single thing, but they weren't definitely back there.

"Fancy seeing you here, hermosa," a voice behind drawled, almost making you jump.

"What the actual fuck!" you said, holding a hand to your chest.

Of course it was fucking Carlos Sainz, once again

"You scared the hell out of me!" you snapped, narrowing your eyes at him, "Do you hide in dark alleyways like a creep all the time?"

"Slow down, hermosa, why are you so angry all the time?" his Spanish accent was thicker than usual, a clear sign that he was as tipsy as you were.

"I'm not in the mood for your games tonight," you retorted, trying to brush past him.

"Relax, I'm not here to cause trouble," he said, blocking your path with an easy grace. "Though you do seem to find me wherever you go."

"Only because you insist on being everywhere I am," you shot back, folding your arms over your chest.

"Or maybe you just can't resist my charm," he teased, leaning casually against the wall.

"Charm? Is that what you call it?" you scoffed, "More like arrogance and an inflated ego."

"Arrogance? No. Confidence? Absolutely," he replied with a smirk, "And I think you secretly like it."

"You're delusional," you muttered, feeling the alcohol clouding your judgment. "I can't stand you."

"Is that so?" he said, stepping closer. "Because you seem pretty invested in this conversation for someone who supposedly hates me."

True

"Maybe because you won't let me leave," you said, your voice rising in frustration.

"Or maybe because you've spent the entire season trying to get my attention by being rude to me and blasting me on social media, calling me a little bitch and all."

"I was defending Oscar," you snapped. "You kept messing with him on track. Someone had to call you out."

Carlos shook his head, his cocky smirk even bigger now. "It was never about Oscar, and you know it."

"God, I hate you," you said, ready to walk away but he blocked your way one more time.

"No, you don't," he replied, a knowing smile on his lips. "You just hate that you can't help but get all hot and bothered whenever I'm around."

"You're really are such a little bitch," you spat, but even as the words left your mouth, you felt a strange thrill.

"And you're a firecracker, Piastri. That's what makes this so fun."

"You're so full of yourself," you retorted, but the words lacked their usual bite. The alcohol was making it hard to keep up your defenses, and Carlos's close proximity was doing strange things to your resolve.

"Maybe," he conceded, his voice dropping to a husky whisper. "But I think you like it more than you let on."

Before you could argue back, Carlos took another step closer, his body almost pressing against yours. The tension between you crackled like electricity, and despite your best efforts, you found yourself unable to pull away.

"You're infuriating," you muttered, your heart pounding in your chest.

"And you," he said, his breath warm against your ear, "are insufferable."

Without another word, he closed the gap between you, capturing your lips in a fierce, almost desperate kiss. It was a collision of anger, frustration, and undeniable chemistry, and you couldn't help but respond in kind.

Your hands found their way to his hair, fingers tangling in the soft strands as you kissed him back with equal fervor. His hands roamed down your back, pulling you closer until there was no space left between you.

What the hell was happening?

For a moment, all the animosity, all the bickering, melted away. It was messy, it was intense, and it was everything you hadn't realized you wanted.

When you finally pulled away, breathless and dazed, you could see the same mix of surprise and desire reflected in Carlos' eyes.

Before either of you could say anything, you were interrupted by Lando's voice calling out your name. You quickly stepped back, putting some distance between you and Carlos as Lando approached, a curious look on his face.

"Everything okay here?" Lando asked, glancing between the two of you.

"Just fine," you replied, giving Carlos a final, challenging look. "Just fine."

Carlos nodded, his smirk returning. "See you around, Piastri."

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texts between lando and yn

texts between carlos and lando

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2024 SEASON

Formula 1 was back and in full swing. And with that your "nepo sister" privileges, which included traveling with Oscar for races came back too.

You were excited for this season, Oscar was no longer a rookie and he had a lot to prove, and you couldn't wait to see him rise to the challenge.

In addition to that, this season was going to be extra interesting, since the news of your least favorite driver on the grid (or at least the one you swore you hated) being replaced by Lewis Hamilton in Ferrari were announced a few weeks prior.

"Did you hear the news?" Oscar asked, making his way to you.

"What news?" you replied, setting down your coffee cup.

"Lewis Hamilton is moving to Ferrari next season," Oscar said, watching your reaction closely.

Your eyes widened in surprise. "Wait, what? So the little bitch is out?"

Oscar nodded. "Yeah, it's going to be an interesting season."

Carlos Sainz was both a source of irritation and inexplicable attraction. You had tried to push the memory of that kiss at Jimmy'z to the back of your mind all winter long, but you just couldn't stop thinking about it.

Plus, Lando was firm on his mission of making wither of you confess that apparently you "liked each other", which made ignoring the whole situation even harder.

You just hoped that he would keep it chill this season, not bothering either you or Oscar so you could just pretend he didn't exist.

With that thought on your mind, you made your way back to the hotel. You spent the day exploring around Bahrain with Oscar and Lando, and now you were ready to unwind in your room. The boys deciding to spend a few more hours walking around before heading back.

Once in the lobby, you stepped into the elevator, pressing the button for your floor. Just as the doors were about to close, a familiar hand slipped in, forcing them open.

Carlos Sainz stepped inside, his ever-present smirk firmly in place.

Speak of the devil and he shall appear, they say.

"Not going to say hello, querida?" he said after a few seconds of complete silence from you, leaning against the elevator wall.

"Carlos. Still popping up where you're least wanted, I see," you rolled your eyes, folding your arms over your chest.

"Missed you too, Piastri," he chuckled, pushing off the wall to stand closer you, "How was your break?"

"Great, thanks for asking," you replied coolly. "Did you enjoy yours, planning how to be a pain to other drivers this season too?"

"Is that really how you want to start our first conversation of the season?" Carlos raised an eyebrow, "I though we've left that in the past, specially after what happened at the end of last year."

You tensed at his statement. More than once during the break, you wondered if he remembered what happened that night. He was as drunk was you were, if not more, so you convinced yourself that he had forgotten about it.

"I don't remember much from that night. Must have been the champagne."

Carlos leaned in slightly, his voice low and teasing. "Oh, I think you remember perfectly well. Especially the kiss."

Your heart skipped a beat, but you kept your expression neutral. "I have no idea what you're talking about."

"Playing dumb doesn't suit you," he said with a chuckle. "But fine, we'll pretend it never happened. For now."

"Good," you replied sharply. "Because I have no intention of discussing it."

"Maybe you're playing dumb because you want me to kiss you again," Carlos teased, making you throw your head back in frustration.

"I'd rather choke on my own spit, little bitch,"

"Ahh, missed hearing that," Carlos said, his tone cocky and satisfied with your frustration. You mentally cursed the elevator for taking so long to get to your fucking floor.

"You know what? I hope you don't find a seat for next season at all. You act like a total peacock when everyone knows you're basically unemployed right now," you spitted out before you could even think twice.

Carlos raised an eyebrow, his expression momentarily serious. "Low blow, Piastri. Even for you."

You held his gaze defiantly, refusing to back down. "Just stating the obvious."

The elevator finally dinged, announcing your floor, and you stepped out swiftly, eager to end the conversation before it could escalate further.

Carlos Sainz had a way of getting under your skin like no one else, and the season had only just begun.

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username1 ICON IS BACKKKK

username2 nooo we need you to keep dragging sainz

mclaren Our favorite nepo sister 🧡

↳ ynpiastri that’s meeee

username3 yn always gives us lily x oscar content bless her

charles_leclerc What if I need you to fight someone from the grid for me?

↳ ynpiastri you know there’s one person i would gladly drag through the mood

↳ username1 HER HATRED FOR CARLOS LIVES

lilyzneimer love youuu✨

oscarpiastri Cute picture of me and Lily, thank u sis

↳ ynpiastri i’m just here for my babies 🫡

landonorris I know your reasons

↳ ynpiastri you’re so strange sometimes

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It was a sunny day in Melbourne, and the paddock was buzzing with excitement. The Australian Grand Prix was always a favorite, and this year was no exception.

You felt good to be back home, you always felt proud when you saw Oscar on the track, but seeing him racing in your home country was something even more special.

Carlos was also back from his emergency surgery and ready to race again. And even though you would never admit it out loud, you were relieved to see him back and healthy. The news of his appendicitis had shocked you more than you’d expected, and you’d found yourself genuinely concerned about his wellbeing.

I'm just being a decent human being, you tried to convince yourself, It would be really scary if that happened to Oscar or Lando.

Walking through the paddock, you looked for a familiar face to hang out with before it was time for the track action to start, spotting Lando's back talking to someone you couldn't quite identify, you decided to approach him.

As you got closer, Lando shifted slightly, revealing the person he was talking to, Carlos.

He looked well, a healthy glow back in his cheeks, his smile easy and relaxed. He was wearing his team gear, the Ferrari red suiting him perfectly. His dark hair was slightly tousled, and despite the casual setting, he looked effortlessly handsome for someone who had a major surgery just two weeks ago.

Your stomach did a little flip. You hated to admit it, but lately your hatred towards Carlos had cooled down. Maybe it was the memory of that kiss, seeing him vulnerable after his surgery or the fact that he had been decent to Oscar so far. You couldn't deny that there was something about him that made you feel… softer.

However, you decided to ignore those thoughts and feelings every time they got to your head, because at the end of the day, there was no way he could ever feel or think the same way. It was better to keep hating each other.

Lando noticed you approaching and gave you a teasing grin. "Hey, YN! Look who’s back from the dead!"

Carlos turned to face you, his eyes lighting up when he saw you. "Hey, Piastri," he greeted with a warm smile. "Back to your home turf, huh?"

"Yeah," you replied, trying to keep your tone casual despite the flutter in your chest. "It feels good to be back."

Lando gave Carlos a pat on the shoulder. "I'll catch up with you later, mate," he said, winking at you before walking away, leaving the two of you alone.

You stood there for a moment, awkward silence filling the air. Maybe he was still tired from what he had been through, but he didn't show any signs of cockiness or wanting to annoy you this time.

"You look well," you finally said, your voice softer than usual. "I'm glad you're back."

Carlos chuckled, his eyes twinkling. "I heard you were worried about me."

"Don't let it go to your head," you replied quickly, though the usual bite in your tone was missing. You felt a bit embarrassed that he knew, "I’m just being a decent human being."

"Of course," Carlos said, his voice nonchalant, "Decent human being, sure."

"I’m serious," you insisted, though your voice lacked the usual edge. "But I am glad you’re okay. It must have been scary."

Carlos’s expression softened. "It was. But I had good doctors, and I’m ready to race again. Thanks for worrying."

There was silence again, and you noticed that this was the first time you and Carlos had an interaction that didn't include biting each other's heads off.

It felt nice.

"Well," you said after a minute of silence, "don’t expect me to go easy on you just because you had surgery. You're still on my watch."

"Wouldn’t have it any other way," Carlos smirked, "But for the record, it’s nice to see you care, even if you won’t admit it."

"Don't push your luck, Sainz," you warned, but there was a hint of playfulness in your voice.

"I wouldn't dare, Piastri."

"I should get going," you said, pointing towards the McLaren hospitality, "Good luck out there."

As you turned to walk away, Carlos's voice stopped you in your tracks.

You glanced back at him, eyebrows raised in question.

"You know, this is the first time you don't call me a little bitch," Carlos said, a small playing on his face.

"What, you miss it already? Does it turn you own?"

"Maybe a little," Carlos chuckled, "Keeps things interesting."

You shook your head, trying to hide the smile that threatened to spread across your face.

"Well, good luck out there, little bitch."

You didn't wait to see his reaction, but you knew he was grinning from ear to ear.

Later that day, Carlos crossed the finish line first and won the Australian Grand Prix, sending the crowd into a frenzy. You watched as Carlos celebrated on the podium, spraying champagne with Lando and Charles and holding up the winner's trophy with pride.

You swore you played it cool, but everyone around you noticed the huge smile on your face.

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username1 AUSSIE QUEEN

username2 omfg included a picture of sainz win??

↳ username1 how pissed do you think she was bc he won in australia

↳ username3 i love that she didn’t tag him tho 😭

alexandrasaintmleux Mama piastri >> 🫶

↳ ynpiastri our real queen

lilyzneimer the third pic is my faveeee

username4 surprised that she didn’t blur carlos in the podium pic

landonorris Please don’t make me do a shoey ever again

↳ username2 OMFG I NEED TO SEE THAT

↳ oscarpiastri Aussie traditions mate

↳ ynpiastri cry baby

carlossainz55 started following you

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carlossainz55 replied to your story

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"You're not my best friend," Lando said, sitting on the plush couch of your hotel room, watching as you put a sweatshirt on, "You've been replaced with an alien or an evil twin, there's no way you're YN Piastri."

"Can you quit being dramatic," you rolled your eyes at him, "It's no big deal."

"You're grabbing sushi with Carlos Sainz," he stressed, moving his hands to emphasize, "You hate Carlos Sainz, it's been an issue for me for the last year because both of you force me to pick sides and I have to make sure you don't kill each other. And now you're suddenly going on dates."

"This is not a date," you protested, "Don't even say that out loud, it's gross."

"Then what is it? Because he asked you out and you said yes, that's literally a date."

You didn't give him a reply right away, hiding behind your your busy hands as you pretended to adjust your sweatshirt.

Truth was, you didn’t have an answer, at least not one that made sense. You couldn't blame Lando for thinking you've been replaced with someone else, because you'd never accept anything from Carlos last year, let alone willingly grab dinner with him.

But here you were, about to head out to meet him.

"I just want free dinner," you shrugged, "And he offered to buy it, so I'm taking advantage of it."

"Sure, free dinner," Lando gave you a skeptical look, crossing his arms, "Because you’ve never had other options for free dinner before, right? Your brother is rich, he could buy you whatever you want."

You huffed, trying to sound annoyed but feeling a bit defensive. "It's just sushi, Lando. Stop making it a big deal."

"You know, it's okay if you like him," he said, his tone genuine. "I mean, I get why you're hesitant, but it's fine to have feelings for someone, even if it's Carlos Sainz."

"Are you out of your mind?" you immediately said, your voice sharper than intended, "We're talking about the little bitch, what on earth makes you think that I could have feelings for him other than disgust and irritation."

"I don't know, maybe the fact that you're getting ready to get dinner with him, or that you were on the edge of your seat worrying the entire time he was recovering from the surgery, or the time I almost caught you kiss-"

"God, just shut up," you interrupted him, "Oscar would understand. He knows I'm never going to get all lovey-dovey over Carlos."

"Oscar might buy whatever you tell him," Lando raised an eyebrow, "But that doesn't mean you're being honest with yourself. It's not the end of the world to admit you might have a crush."

"I do not have a crush on him," you insisted, your cheeks heating up. "It's just... complicated."

"Complicated how?" Lando pressed, leaning forward. "Because from where I'm sitting, it looks pretty straightforward. You’re intrigued by him, he’s intrigued by you, and you both can’t seem to stay away from each other."

You let his words sink in, Lando might be a year younger than you, and often perceived as a carefree guy who didn't have a serious bone in his body. But in reality, he was a very wise person who understood the complexities of situations better than most.

That was one of the reasons why he was your best friend.

"Look, it’s not that simple," you sighed, rubbing your temples, "We have history, and not the good kind. I don't trust him, and I don’t think he trusts me either. We're just… trying to be civil for once."

"That's good," Lando stood up from the couch, sitting beside you and wrapping an arm around your shoulders, "Honestly I was tired of dealing with your constant bickering, if you didn't kiss and make up on your own, I was going to lock you up in a closet until you resolved it."

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username1 BESTIEEEE

username2 THIS LOOKS LIKE A DATE

alexandrasaintmleux I just texted you !!!

↳ username1 LET ME INNNN

f1gossip 👀

username3 CARLOS SAINZ ???

↳ username1 girl no way they hate each other

↳ username2 he’s in the likes tho 😭

landonorris IM FREEEEE WORST EXPERIENCE OF MY LIFEEEE

↳ username1 wtfffff

oscarpiastri Answer my texts right now please

↳ username1 IM SCREAMING

↳ username2 OSCAR 😩

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After a nice dinner and a couple of drinks, you and Carlos walked back to the hotel. The sushi had been surprisingly good, and the conversation… surprisingly pleasant.

The bickering between you was still present, but this time it wasn't harsh or spiteful, it was playful and and light-hearted. The tension that usually accompanied your interactions had lessened, and you actually acted friendly towards each other.

"I still can't believe you made me try that weird seaweed thing," you said, bumping your shoulder against his as you walked.

"You loved it, admit it," Carlos chuckled.

"Maybe a little," you conceded with a small smile, "How did you know this place anyways?"

"I like reading restaurant reviews online," he shrugged, "It's a random hobby of mine, and I'm going to need those in case I don't have a job next year."

You paused, his words sinking in. Carlos joked about it, but you knew the uncertainty of his future in Formula 1 must be horrible. The sport is cutthroat, and the thought of not finding a seat to race must be weighing on him heavily. It made you think about Oscar, and how that could happen to him too.

"I'm sorry for saying that I hope you don't find a seat next season," you blurted out, feeling a pang of guilt. "You're right, that was low, even for me."

"Are you really apologizing, Piastri?" he teased, "First you cared about my health, now you apologize. What's next? You'll stop calling me a little bitch?"

You rolled your eyes, but there was no malice behind it. "Don't push your luck, Sainz. Just take the apology and run with it."

"Alright, I'll take it," Carlos laughed, a genuine sound that made your heart skip a beat, "You must be praying I stay just so you have an excuse to argue with me, aren't you?"

"Don't flatter yourself," you shot back, grinning. "I can argue with anyone."

"But you like arguing with me the most," he said, his voice softening.

You didn't reply, the truth in his words making your heart race. From the corner of your eye, you saw the satisfied grin on his face.

Soon enough you reached the hotel lobby, and once you walked through the doors you spotted Charles and Alexandra by the reception desk.

"Well, well, well, what do we have here?" Charles called out, drawing the attention of Alex, who looked at you with raised eyebrows.

"Just coming back from dinner," you replied, trying to keep your tone casual. "What are you two up to?"

"We were just about to head up," Alexandra said, linking her arm with Charles's. "How was dinner?"

"Surprisingly good," Carlos said, glancing at you with a smirk.

Charles raised an eyebrow, clearly amused. "This is new. You two actually getting along?"

"Don't get used to it," you said, rolling your eyes. "I just wanted free dinner."

"Right," Charles said, not convinced. "Well, we're heading up, you coming?"

You all piled into the elevator, the small space filled with a mix of comfortable silence and light conversation. When the elevator reached your floor, you stepped out, Carlos following close behind.

"Goodnight, guys," Alex called out as the elevator doors closed, giving you a look that screamed 'TEXT ME ASAP'

Carlos walked you to your room, the hallway dimly lit and quiet. As you walked side by side, the occasional brush of his arm against yours sent small shivers down your spine.

"So, the only reason you agreed to come with me tonight was because you wanted free dinner?" Carlos asked once you reached your room.

"Exactly, what else do you think would make me want to spend an evening with you?"

Carlos chuckled, leaning against the wall beside your door. "I don't know, maybe my charming personality and good looks?"

"Charming?" you raised your eyebrows at him, "You're literally the most annoying person I know."

"Likewise, Piastri," Carlos shot back, his smirk widening, "But here we are, aren't we?"

"You really think you're that special, don't you?" you said, rolling your eyes.

"I know I am, querida," Carlos replied, stepping closer. "And you can't get enough of me."

You looked away from him, his stare suddenly becoming overwhelming. He was really close, as close as he was the night you kissed at Jimmy'z, and even thinking about it has your neck crawling away in sweat.

"See? You can't even deny it." Carlos grinned, his eyes locking onto yours again, his voice dropping an octave as he took another step closer.

"Don't get any ideas," you warned, but your heart was racing, and you were sure he could hear it.

"I can't help it," he said softly, his face now inches from yours. "You bring out the best in me, Piastri."

"I still hate you," you whispered, your breath hitching as he leaned in even closer.

"No, you don't," Carlos whispered back, his lips brushing against yours.

Before you could protest, he closed the distance and kissed you. It was gentle at first, tentative, as if he was giving you a chance to pull away. But when you didn't, the kiss deepened, becoming more intense and filled with a raw passion that took your breath away.

Your hands found their way to his shoulders, gripping tightly as you kissed him back, losing yourself in the moment. His arms wrapped around your waist, pulling you even closer.

When you finally pulled away, both of you were breathless, a small smile playing on Carlos's lips.

"Goodnight, Piastri," he whispered, his voice husky.

Unable to move from your spot, you watched him walk through the corridor and disappear into the elevator doors, your mind still blurry about what happened just seconds ago.

You were fucked.

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TWITTER

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A playlist full of pop classics played as you got ready for Lando's millionth win celebration.

He took the win at the Miami Grand Prix and the next following days were full of partying and champagne. You were beyond happy for him, and willing to put up with his multiple celebrations of his well deserved win.

This time, the setting was not that over the top, just a casual dinner at his place in Monaco with his close friends.

"Can I come in?" you heard after a knock on Oscar's guest bedroom, the place where you stayed when visiting Monaco.

"Sure," you replied, quickly meeting with your brother's figure.

Oscar entered the room, a casual grin on his face. He glanced around before his eyes settled on you. "Are you almost ready?"

"Yeah," you replied, adjusting an earring. "I hope this is Lando's last celebration, I can't keep up anymore.

"He's definitely on a roll," Oscar chuckled, "You know, Carlos is going to be there."

"I know," you said, looking away from him for a moment and trying to keep your tone nonchalant.

"You do?" Oscar raised a eyebrow.

"He's Lando's best friend, Osc, it's obvious he'll be there."

Oscar nodded slowly, a knowing smile playing on his lips. "Right, of course. But you two have been getting close lately, haven't you? You didn't even come for his neck after Miami, and you always do that."

You sighed, knowing where this conversation was heading. There was no denying that there was something between you and Carlos, your friends might not know about the times you've kissed, but they definitely noticed the shift in your behavior towards each other.

You found yourself enjoying his company, looking forward to catch a glimpse of him every weekend and craving his touch. You don't know if he feels the same way, but the way he looks at you and finds ways to get you alone tells you he does.

Admitting this to Oscar felt like crossing a line, even though he had always encouraged you to be open about your feelings.

"We're just… getting along better. That's all," you muttered, "And you asked me to behave on social media this season, I'm trying to do that."

"That's bullshit, YN," Oscar shook his head, a teasing smile forming on his lips, "Come on, admit it. Maybe the real reason you didn't attack him this time is because you like him."

"Oscar, we're not having this conversation," you quickly became defensive, "I don't know why everyone insist on something that's far from the truth. I don't like Sainz."

"Sis, it's okay if you like him," Oscar said, his tone gentle but insistent. "You don't have to hide it from me."

You looked away, feeling conflicted. Ever since you first met Carlos, there was something about him that intrigued you, however, you were too caught up in convincing yourself that he would never see you as more than his brand new rival's sister. Things getting worse when his incidents with Oscar on track started and you took that as an opportunity to be reckless to him.

It was a self defense mechanism for your own feelings.

"It's complicated, okay?" you said, feeling vulnerable but knowing you could trust him, "We spent last year coming from each other's necks all the time, but now he's nice to me and I am too, we spend time together, we kiss. But at the same time, I feel like I can't trust him, that he's going to switch to little bitch mode again and I'll end up feeling stupid for potentially catching feelings."

"Holy shit you've kissed!" Oscar said, his eyes widening, "Lando was right all along."

"Oh god, I shouldn't have said anything," you threw your head back in frustration.

"Sorry, sorry," he put his hands up in defense, "But It's okay to feel confused. You can talk to me, you know. I'm your brother, and I just want you to be happy. I can tell that this is really bothering you."

You sighed, sitting down on the edge of the bed. "I just don't know what to do, Osc. One minute I think I might actually like him, and the next I'm terrified of getting hurt."

"Look, I know Carlos can be intense on track, but off track? He's a good guy," Oscar sat beside you, putting an arm around your shoulders, "When he's not trying to push me off the track, he's really supportive and a nice guy. There's a reason why Lando adores him. Plus, maybe he's figuring things out too."

You leaned into Oscar's side, grateful for his comforting presence. "Do you really think so?"

"Yeah, I do," Oscar nodded reassuringly. "And you deserve to give yourself a chance at happiness. If Carlos could make you happy, then why not see where it goes?"

"When did you become so wise?" you teased, giving him a small smile, "You're supposed to be my annoying little brother who picks his nose and runs around the house."

"Hey, I can be wise when I want to be," Oscar chuckled, giving you a playful shove, "But don't worry, I'll always be your annoying little brother, nose-picking and all."

You laughed, feeling some of the tension ease from your shoulders. "Thanks, Osc. I needed this."

"Anytime, sis," Oscar said warmly, giving you a quick hug. "Now, come on. Lando is probably drunk already and we haven't made it to his house yet."

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username1 so iconic tbh

username2 EXCUSE ME MISS IS THAT CARLOS SAINZ IN THE LAST PIC ??

↳ username1 i thought they hated each other 😭

danielricciardo 🙌

alexandrasaintmleux 👀 I see you

↳ ynpiastri and i don’t see you over her which means your boyfriend sucks for not bringing you

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landonorris IM V DRVNK OMG

↳ username3 i love him 😭😭😭😩

username4 carlos sainz and yn piastri the ultimate enemies to lovers lowkey

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You're not sure how it happened, but Carlos' arm laid casually in the back of your chair as you chatted with those around you. His fingers gently brushed your bare shoulder from time to time, his thigh pressed to yours under the table.

Maybe it was the couple glasses of champagne you both had, you're not sure. But you definitely didn't want to move from your spot.

No one dared to say anything about it, but your friends had teasing grins at the sight. You knew you'll have to deal with them later, but you decided to ignore it for the night.

"Alright, I think I'm calling it a night," Oscar said as he got up from his chair, Lando immediately booed, "Are you coming, YN?"

You looked at him with raised eyebrows, you definitely didn't want to leave yet, feeling too comfortable in Carlos' presence. In addition to that, you haven't had a chance to get him alone, and that was enough to not want the night to end.

After a minute of silence from you, Carlos spoke up, "I can give her a ride home if she doesn't want to leave yet," he offered, his voice smooth and nonchalant.

"Oh, a private chauffeur service now, Carlos? How fancy," Max teased from across the table, making the entire group laugh.

Oscar hesitated, glancing between you and Carlos, his protective instincts kicking in. "Are you okay with that, YN?"

"Yeah, I'm okay with it," you met Oscar's eyes and nodded, "Or I can just crash here, Lando is too drunk to notice anyway, don't want to cause much trouble."

"It's really no trouble," he insisted, his hand still resting gently on your shoulder. "I'll make sure you get home safely."

Oscar seemed to relax a bit, though you could tell he was still a little uneasy. "Alright then. Just... be careful, okay?"

"Don't worry, Osc," you replied, standing up and giving him a quick hug. "I'll see you tomorrow."

As Oscar left, the group continued to tease and laugh. You always enjoyed when the drivers were in a casual setting like this one, where they could forget about competition and teams and just hang out and have fun.

You stayed glued to Carlos the entire time, getting even closer as the night went on, you could feel your eyelids getting heavy, so you laid your head on his shoulder.

"You're falling asleep on me, hermosa," Carlos whispered to you, not moving your head from its place.

"I'm not," you protested, but at the same time you did a yawn escaped your mouth, which made Carlos laugh.

"Come on let's get you home," Carlos offered you his hand.

You took Carlos' hand, not even thinking twice about it. As you both stood to leave, your friends couldn't resist one last round of teasing.

"No funny business, Carlos," Charles called out, grinning widely. You couldn't help but roll your eyes at him. "We have Oscar on speed dial."

"Yeah, don't make me come after you, that's also my sister," Lando added, too drunk to even make sense.

You laughed, waving goodbye to everyone as you and Carlos made your way out. The cool night air was refreshing as you walked to his car, your hand still in his.

The drive to Oscar's place was quiet but comfortable. Carlos kept one hand on the wheel, the other resting on the center console close to you. You found yourself stealing glances at him, admiring the way the streetlights played over his features.

At one point, Carlos glanced over and caught you staring. "You're staring," he said, a smirk playing on his lips.

You felt your cheeks heat up but didn't look away. "Maybe I am," you replied, a teasing edge in your voice. "You have a problem with that?"

"Not at all, Piastri. Not at all."

When you arrived at Oscar's place, Carlos parked the car but you made no move to get out. The silence stretched between you, heavy with unspoken words and lingering tension.

"Are you ready to stop pretending we hate each other?" Carlos asked suddenly, his voice low and earnest. "Because I am."

His words hung in the air, causing your heart to skip a beat. The intensity in his gaze made it clear he wasn't playing around or teasing you. He was being real and serious.

You took a deep breath, your eyes locking onto his. "Yeah, I am."

Your heart pounded in your chest as you closed the distance between you, your lips meeting his in a kiss. His hand cupped your cheek, pulling you closer as his lips moved against yours with a mix of tenderness and hunger. The world outside the car ceased to exist, and all that mattered was the way his kiss made you feel.

Carlos' other hand found its way to the back of your neck, deepening the kiss as he pressed you closer. Your hands tangled in his hair, holding on as if letting go meant losing this moment forever.

When you finally pulled away, both of you were breathless, your foreheads resting against each other as you tried to catch your breath. Carlos' eyes searched yours, a satisfied smile playing on his lips.

"But… I'm not ready to stop calling you a little bitch, though."

[ellana-ravenwood]

“Batman, you need to-IS THAT A BABY ?!” - Batfam x Fem!reader

Synopsis : Bruce and Batmom bring their newborn daughter to the Watchtower, so she can meet their friends (or vice versa). Includes an overprotective Damian, League members who cannot believe the Batman is smiling, and other shenanigans.  

Oop, I’m back (?). My dudes. It’s been TWO YEARS since I last posted here. Two. Years. I posted like, two life update...don’t know if some of y’all saw it, but long story short : I got married, I have a son now, and everything is going so well in my life that I didn’t really need the validation I got from writing online...Buuuuuuuuuuuuut, I still love writing. And so, after quite a long break, here I am :). Hope you will enjoy this, don’t hesitate to let me know if you do : 

Please, do not repost my stories anywhere else, under any other form. Do not translate and then repost them either. Thank you.

My masterlist : @ella-ravenwood-archives

________________________________________________

“You’re evil, you know that right ?” You say, raising an eyebrow.  

“I don’t know what you’re talking about, my love.” He answers, a small smile on his lips. You turn to him and...Oh that smug look, that smug look you loved so much. He definitely DEFINITELY knew what he was doing. 

And that it was utterly...evil. 

“It’s going to be FUN !” 

Ah, and here’s his little devil. Damian himself. He loved this. Partly because he thought it was funny to mess with everyone, partly because he liked showing that you guys were a family. 

“They won’t believe their eyes !” His little voice kept going, followed by a big roar of laughter that sounded, by all means, more childlike than devilish. 

“That they won’t, they always seem so surprised when Bruce acts like a human.” 

Jason. Still not calling Bruce “dad” (except sometimes, by “accident”, and even him don’t realize he did), he’d only slowly been back at the manor, with all of you. And, for sure, a certain important event which happened about four months ago made it so he came back to live at home.

Dick chuckled and added : “Who would blame them ? We’re talking about a man who eats his burgers with a knife and fork !” He gestured to his father with his left thumb, his other hand shielding part of his mouth as if he was telling them all a secret, as if he was trying to be discreet, so his dad wouldn’t hear...Always quite the little clown, that eldest son of yours. With his exaggerated mannerism, and that sparkle in his eyes, in his smile. 

“I’m certain some of them thought he was genuinely a cyborg for YEARS” Tim added, quite seriously, his tone the opposite of his older brother (and that was just his way of joking...you think). And honestly ? Yeah, you were pretty sure some of your friends at the JLA thought your husband was a robot, at one point. 

Oh yes. That’s where you were going, to the JLA’s headquarters. To execute Bruce’s plan. Quite the evil plan indeed. 

“Hell, even I thought he was one before I met you guys !” Duke chimed in, and that made Cassandra smile widely, as she shook her head up and down pointing at Duke as if to say : “what he just said”. 

And in a very Bruce manner, your husband kept a straight face, ignoring his children’s teasing. Only you, saw that twinkle in his eyes, that smile that might not reach his mouth, but was definitely dancing in those bright blue eyes. 

Oh yes. Yes, your friends were in for quite the surprise. 

************

Meanwhile, in the Justice League headquarters : 

“Oh, hey ! Look, Batman’s zeta tube is turning on ! We haven’t seen him in a while right ?”  

Indeed they haven’t. Because, well, let’s put it this way : Batman’s wife just had a baby. 

A baby girl (finally, right ? You and Cass weren’t TOO outnumbered anymore). 

And Batman had been VERY busy doting over his baby girl. 

Batman had been busy being Bruce Wayne. 

Just a man, who thought he’d never be happy again, not knowing how to handle all those feelings he had for his wife (for you), for his children. 

That was happiness then, right ? 

So, yes. Batman hasn’t been much at the JLA’s headquarters lately. But your husband thought, it was finally time to go see his friends a little bit. He knew they were all up there, because it was their monthly reunion (once each month, they gathered to talk about the state of the world, the universe, what threat lingered, what lurked beyond...and to get very drunk, and see their friends, the only ones who knew what it meant to be a “hero”). 

And that what’s made him particularly evil. 

He knew, they would all be there. He knew what their reaction was going to be. After all, his memory was amazing, he definitely hadn’t forgot the way they reacted the first time they saw you, the first time they learned he had children (childrEN, plural !). 

And he knew they were a little worried about him. 

He had missed their last three reunions, and only answered : “Everything is ok” to their messages asking if he was alright (they hadn’t dared to go see if he was indeed ok, because last time they did that, they found him bed ridden with all the bones in his body broken, and he got so mad at them for butting in his business he worked twice as hard when he was fine again, and didn’t talk a WORD for months...that was, of course, years ago, before you were in his life, but the experience was still in their minds and so, they decided to respect his privacy, he would come to them when ready). And he never pushed his “red button”, him, or anyone in the family. 

They just assumed he was busy, they hoped it wasn’t anything bad. 

Yes. They were worried. For him. For you. For your kids. For Alfred. For your dogs, your cats, your cow...They. Were. Worried. 

And Bruce knew. 

You told him, when your pregnancy was confirmed, to tell his friends. That they would be happy. But after his own initial happy thought, his surge of hope and love at knowing he was going to be a dad again, he started to make his plan. 

Why tell them, when you could toy with them ? 

“They deserve it.” He told you, and you weren’t sure if they did, but you weren’t about to fight him on that. After all, you too, thought it could be amusing. Amusing to hide your pregnancy, making up excuses as to why they couldn't come see you, and you didn’t come up the headquarter. Amusing, to even hide it quite expertly from any form of news (Bruce was a MASTER of disguise, not only for himself), so it would be a real surprise. 

Amusing, to have your little girl in secret, with only your family. Amusing, but also what you wanted. For this good news to be just between you, your children, and Alfred. Your close family. Because you had too few things that just were yours. 

This had to be yours. Your thing, your secret, your own happiness. Yours, and only yours. And you found it was good, that you guys spend the first few months of your daughter’s life only between yourselves. 

It was nice, to go out “disguised” as a normal couple, and show your daughter Gotham (and how her little eyes already tried to take the entire world within them). 

It was nice, to live in total privacy for a little bit. 

So, yes, you had been a little selfish. And he had, too. You knew it wasn’t just to prank his friends, he kept it all a secret. That it was also to have some quality time with his family. To spend the first few months of his daughter’s life being the only one being utterly smitten with her. 

Though, this last thing wasn't true...You were, too. And your children ? Let’s just say your daughter had not been alone ONCE since she was born. And she seemed to love it. 

Whenever she made the slightest sound, smiled, laughed (or cried), they were there, Bruce was there, absolutely loving that little baby. 

She was almost 4 months old now, and Bruce thought that the gist had to be up. What scale did he use to measure this amount of “readiness” ? You had no idea. You thought he was just now ready to share his happiness with his friends, and not just his close family. 

And so here you were, after months of secrecy carefully crafted and orchestrated by your husband, in the JLA’s headquarters, along with your family, the little new addition to said family in your husband’s arms. 

Evil. Your husband was downright evil. 

He knew that what was about to happen would have a massive impact on his friends. He. KNEW. 

And as the zeta tube brought all your family up there, you knew that as he saw their faces, your husband was a little TOO happy with himself for his little “prank”. 

************

“Batman, are you al- IS THAT A BABY ?” Very typical, very in character : the first to react was Flash himself. 

None of the other noticed, and they seemed inclined to think Barry had lost his mind but then...

Bruce’s face didn’t move an inch, he just held that little “package”, and had his same stoic expression except...Except there was a little hand grabbing at his chin. 

Then another hand appeared out of that bundle Batman carried, with a bat plushie bunched in a tight fist, shaking it and...Cooing. 

Cute little sounds, and the way- EXCUUUuuUuuuUSE ME ?

The way Batman just softly looked at her, the way his cold expression was replaced by a tender one as he lowered his eyes to her ??

WHAT ?! 

They knew. They knew he had THE softest spot for his family. They knew his scary aura greatly dimmed when he was around his wife and children. They knew that when they weren’t there, he was only made of shadows. They were his light, his salvation. 

They knew he didn’t have the same face expression, when they were around.

Well, when they were looking at him...Barry swore that Batman loomed around his family, standing menacingly behind them, his eyes cold and calculating as if he was ready to fight any seconds to save his loved ones, and then whenever they turned to him his feature would instantly soften. He will ALWAYS remember the first time he met little Dickie, 9 years old and so full of joy and life, and how whenever he would look at Batman and talk to him, said Batman got a softer expression somewhat, but then when Dick turned around, Batman looked about to murder them whenever they came too close from him. 

Once, Tim, also 9 at the time, years after the JLA met Dick, told Barry matter of factly : “He doesn’t kill people. He could break your knee caps though” in a very Tim fashion. The kid was serious. And had noticed the aura surrounding his dad, how it changed when he was around (he noticed more than his siblings, because for a while, Bruce had been really cold and distant with him, since he met him not long after Jason’s death..understandable. So he was the only one who had this sort of behavior aimed at him, the shield Bruce put in front of him to keep everyone away so he wouldn’t be hurt, the shield that now was lowered for them and only them). 

It was his eyes. His eyes that were always hard and cold, became different when looking at you or his children. 

Not to say that his family never exasperated him, or that he never had his “mask” around them. After all, Bruce’s stoic expression was his face by default. It’s just that he was often too focused. And that he spend years practicing hiding his emotions, practicing keeping a blank face. Because Barry also remembered seeing Dick perched on his father’s shoulders, letting himself dangle in his back, his head upside down, whistling and kicking his feet, and Bruce having this stoic mask on, concentrated. 

Anyway, they knew all that. It had been years, since Bruce finally trusted them enough to bring his wife here, and his kids. But yet, yet they were still surprised sometimes.

Like today. 

The picture of Batman holding a baby was...a little weird. 

Even if he opened up to them over the years, he was still mostly very cold, distant and aloof. You know, Batman. That’s just who he was. So sometimes, to see him so devoted to his wife or kids, it was odd to say the least. 

And right now, as he walked towards them with a baby in his arms, the shock was real. Damn it, will there be a day when the Bat didn’t surprise them with something ? 

How did none of them notice you were pregnant ? Proof again Batman was a master of his craft. And that little girl...

Oh your daughter was such a beaming ray of sunshine, that in his arms it was particularly a jarring image. 

The big scary bat, tall, broad shouldered, muscular in every way, his face void of expressions, holding a tiny baby who kept smiling at everyone around, and playing with her plushy. 

Odd. 

Yet, sweet. 

Were they surprised ? Yes. 

Were they a little mad he hid something (AGAIN) this important from them ? Definitely. 

Were they shocked that his daughter was so darn cute and smiling and laughing that much ? Not really, because you were his mom too. 

Were they happy for him ? For sure. 

Were they going to adore that little girl ? Probably as much as they adored his other kids already, which meant...yes. Yes they were going to. 

Damn that bastard Bruce. Always so sneaky. 

Hal, couldn’t help but think : “First, he’s not a vampire, then, he’s married with children, and now, he has that cute baby. This guy ??!!” 

***********

The initial shocked passed, and only after your children MOCKED all of your friends (you had to give it to Dick, he knew how to imitate them so well..and when Damian joined in ? Oh, oh it was a fit of laughter impossible to fight that attacked them), did they approach your daughter. 

“Her name is Martha.” Bruce said “We named her after my mother.” and it wasn’t his usual flat tone he used as Batman. No, it was a soft voice he usually only reserved for his kids. And the reason he was using it now ? Well. He didn’t want to scare his daughter, as he still held her. 

She beamed at him when she heard her name, and babbled some baby nonsense. She then turned towards all those new faces, and you saw Bruce’s hand hold her a little tighter. 

Your beautiful, sweet soul husband. He clearly was worried she’d be scared, meeting all those new people. Especially since they all wore mask. But Martha-

Martha let go of her bat plushy (which Damian caught before it touched the floor, rolling on the ground in a way you thought was quite comedic. Oh, that boy), and lifted her arms up towards- 

“What a sweet little girl !” Diana said with a voice you NEVER heard her use. You realized it was her “voice reserved for babies and domestic animals”, and it made you smile. It was higher than her usual voice, and full of softness. 

You thought your daughter reached for her because she could feel the warmness in your friend. And after all, amongst all of those gathered here today, she was probably the one that adored babies the most. 

Diana looked at Bruce, who only inclined his head a little to give her the ok to lift her from his arms but-

Another arm stopped her, and took the baby away. 

Damian. 

Damian, the one who took his role as a big brother a little too seriously. 

He held Martha protectively against him, and literally sneered at all your friends. 

************

Damian deemed most of them unworthy to hold his baby sister, and only Clark ended up being allowed to carry her. And that was partly because Clark was the only one who knew about Martha, the only one who saw her already, and he had months to convince your son to trust him with her. 

Being an extremely close friend and all, you just couldn’t hide this from him and... no, really, you literally couldn’t hide this from him as he was the immediately noticed that second heartbeat when he listened in to make sure you and your family were safe. Bruce hated when he did that, but Clark wasn’t about to let them be in danger without moving an inch.

Anyway, Clark was allowed to hold her, but he gave her back to you rather quickly because your son’s stare made him uncomfortable. If eyes could kill, right ? 

Damian took his job as an older brother very seriously. He would protect her at all cost. And you had no doubt that he would be the kind of person to burn the entire world down if it meant saving his family. 

Damian only glared at everyone, letting them approach ONLY after they put on a surgical mask so they wouldn’t give her their “viruses or whatever”. 

You had to admit he was a bit much, and you asked him nicely to calm down a little. He relented on the face masks, but made them all wash their hands (twice). 

You ruffled his hair affectionately, what a sweet little boy. It broke your heart, how so many people judged him too fast. He really was, a nice kid. With a heart of gold. He just didn’t have much luck for the first few years of his life. 

But he chose to be like this. Chose to love, instead of hate. Chose to protect, instead of attacking. 

Although, right now, as Diana came back towards his sister, he definitely seems ready to high kick her (which definitely wouldn’t have hurt the amazon). 

************

It was a hassle, to convince Damian to let go of his sister so they could hold her. As per usual, it’s Dick who managed to convince him, saying Martha was all soft and cute, and everyone deserved to hold her at least once. Adding that if one of them dropped her, he would be allowed to do whatever he wanted to them. 

Some of the mightiest heroes of the planet were gathered hear, but the threat didn’t fall on deaf ears. Damian could be a little intense, and scary sometimes. 

They weren’t fooled by Dick’s agreeable smile either. A smile that didn’t always reach his eyes. They knew if they messed up, he would find every way to rip them to shreds. Dick was often seen as the calmest of your children, but his anger issues from when he was a child were never far. And he could be ruthless.  

Diana held her first, and your daughter babbled to her excitedly. 

Of course, being only 4 months old, she just talked gibberish. And it was so sweet, how Diana answered her : “What ? *babbles from your daughter* Noooooo. *more babbles from your daughter* I can’t believe he said that. And then what ? *babbles babbles babbles*”. 

After that, Dick took her back, and asked if someone else wanted to hold her, under yours and Bruce’s watchful eyes. 

Then again, in the room, many were also already parents and knew how to hold a baby. They weren’t too worried, except-

Except Dick, that little sh-, had found a new game in recent weeks. Whenever he gave his little sister to someone else...he pretended to drop her. 

And it made him laugh and laugh and laugh, to give mini-heart attacks to EVERYONE whenever he gave them his baby sister to them, as they always all panicked and screamed seeing her dropped (Dick always had her secure, he only pretended to drop her of course). 

“Oh no careful !” He’d scream, dropping his arms suddenly (she looooved it) while still gripping her, and they’d scramble to catch her, and he would just laugh. 

“You little-” Hal’s colorful words were...imaginative. And Damian was inclined to agree, since his brother pranked him oh, I don’t know, only about A HUNDRED TIMES since their little sister was born. 

You wouldn’t admit it, but it made you laugh a little too. Even if he got you a few times as well, pretending he was going to drop her. Then again, you trusted your eldest son. Once you and Bruce wouldn’t be around anymore, you knew he would hold this family together. 

************

Martha was a calm baby. She let people hold her, curious enough to not fuss and watch them all intently. It made Barry uncomfortable, how she held his gaze and would just stare at him. 

She would stare, and stare, and stare, and her bright blue eyes were EXACTLY like Bruce’s, it felt like being stared down by a miniature version of Batman. 

He didn’t like it. So he gave her back to whomever was closest, which happened to be Jason

Jason, who was always very delicate with his little sister. He handled her as if he’d break her. It broke your heart, to know he probably literally thought that. 

He refused to hold her at first, sure he would hurt her. But she kept reaching for him, crying when he wouldn’t take her, and she was so adorable and-

He caved, of course. After a little while. And he was oh, the fixture of a patient older brother. You knew he would ALWAYS be part of her life, and step in whenever she needed to. 

Right now, she was grabbing his hair, which were getting quite long, and pulling hard on them as babies do and- He didn’t say anything. He just let her do it. 

You really hoped she wasn’t going to take advantage of this when she’d get older, even if you already had visions of her having her brothers and father wrapped around her little finger, having her sister too, and...apparently, the entirety of the JLA. 

************

“How can such an a-hole make such a cute baby ?” Hal said, looking at the little girl he held. She was sort of dozing off, which for sure was adorable. 

Bruce only glared at him, which amused Hal greatly. He just gave him the shock of his life, he could laugh at his expense a little, right ? 

“I believe, to make a baby, you need to-”

“Um, no, Jon, please, I know how to ! It’s just-Oh, forget it.” 

Flustered, Hal Jordan was flustered. Jon J’onzz didn’t seem to get why, but then again, human sarcasms and irony were still very foreign to him. He always answered pragmatically to people. 

Talking about pragmatism. Hal handed back your daughter to Tim, who slipped her in his favorite new contraption : the baby carrier 3.0 (of his own design). Made so he could do all sort of work while having her strapped to him. Keeping an eye on her at all time. 

Tim adopted the use of a baby carrier, so he could still work while taking care of her (he stole the idea from his dad, who definitely hung around with his daughter EVERYWHERE with that thing...which was the most adorable thing you’ve ever seen, this tall broad man and this tiny baby attached to his chest). 

It was so cute to see her little feet dangling while he was working. Damian nearly lost it when he found Tim WELDING two pieces of metal together with the baby carrier on his front. Tim merely said : “I made her baby sized goggles and a fireproof pyjama, she’s fine, and she likes it” and indeed, your daughter didn’t have a scratch, and cried when Damian hauled her away from the sparks. Ooooh the smug look on Tim’s face as his brother gave her back reluctantly. Damian’s was utterly vexed. 

Vexation he forgot just a few minutes later, when Martha decided she had enough of sparkles and made little sounds of protest (not quite cries), and reached her little arms to him. 

As of now, Tim had her in this baby carrier again, and was strolling around the JLA headquarters, showing his new little sister to everyone. 

************

Cassandra didn’t say a word, as per usual. She never liked big crowds, only spoke to those she trusted the most. Her brothers, her parents. 

She only gestured to others. Remained quiet. But she monitored every little movements. 

Hawkgirl approached her sister ? Noted. Carefully studying every move. Martian Manhunter asked if he could hold her ? Noted. 

Superman made little babbling sound at her, while her dad held her ? Noted, with amusement. It was funny, to see one of Earth’s mightiest hero grimacing to a baby to make it laugh, while said baby was held by another mighty hero who was utterly stoned face. Cass’ smiled at her dad, who smiled back for a fraction of seconds before Clark shifted his head up to look at him too, and Bruce went back to his : “ -_-” face, by reflex really. 

Cassandra never spoke much, but she loved a lot. And her way of loving her little sister ? It was to always keep a watchful eye on her, so she could react to whatever she needed. And give her space when she needed to. 

She had many brothers, she often joked that if she lost one, she could just replace him (a joke you didn’t like much, because you knew it was just a self-defense from her, to shield her heartbreak at the mere idea of loosing a sibling), but only had one sister...

Yes. Your youngest child definitely held a special place in everyone’s heart. 

And you could see her slowly creep in every members’ of the Justice League’s heart too. 

Gods, you couldn’t even imagine what would happen to the person who would one day try to hurt her. You could bet, though, he wouldn’t get out of it unscathed (to say the least). 

************

Martha was particularly fond of Duke’s inuit kiss. He had the capacity to instantly calm her, and he could easily feel her inner emotions. 

As she was passed around everyone, and she started to be tired and cranky, he simply retrieved her and brought her to Bruce, because he knew that was her preferred spot to fall asleep. 

He kissed her on the forehead, and sure enough, she was asleep before he could pull away. Your husband put a warm hand on Duke’s head, a warm smile on his face. That boy could always tell what others felt. It was a gift, really, and sometimes a curse as others’ feelings could leak into him. Which is to say that sometimes, when others were sad, he would be too...

But for now, he felt content. At peace. Because his dad was, too. 

And indeed, Bruce, holding his sleeping daughter against his heart, his hand supporting her head gently, was utterly at peace. 

He loved the idea that his arms were his daughter’s favorite place to sleep, and never refused to hold her to help her sleep. You sure were a little jealous, but he told you : “They all always come to you when they need comfort, one kid out of six, you surely can give me, right ?” and though you knew he was joking, it broke your heart a little. 

So, you let go of your jealousy, and let him have this indeed. Martha was definitely a daddy’s girl. And that was good. You could see the impact on your husband, how having a baby in the house soothed him. 

He loved his kids so damn much. He often said they were his lights. And the fact Martha found comfort with him ? 

It reminded him of his own parents. How he would go to his mom, a Martha too, to find the same comfort. To fall asleep in the same way. 

You let go of that small jealousy, as you saw her falling soundly asleep, cuddled up against her dad. And it was funny, how Bruce would take his usual Batman persona, stone faced, standing straight and- 

Having one of two fingers held tightly by both of his daughter’s little hands. She grabbed them as he took her, one hand holding her (she was so tiny...and he was a big dude), the other, she used as a sort of comfort plushy. She held them with all her might, as she slept. 

And Bruce was speaking battle plans, and you had to fight the laughter in you as all your friends couldn’t help but stare at the scene, not knowing how to feel. 

Hal snickered at one point, and he made a gesture for him to zip it, and it was quite an odd scene, as he held his daughter and did that childish gesture. 

Seriously. That guy !! 

************

Batman smiling was...different. 

They all got caught staring at him, when he had his daughter in his arms. Staring because his broad smile was-

Well. Broad. 

It wasn’t his signature smirk. It wasn’t a soft smile. It wasn’t a half-smile. It wasn’t a smile that you could only see in his eyes. 

It was a full on big ass smile (as Barry would say). 

And sure, they already saw him smile like that (although he schooled his face back to “stone mode” when he noticed them looking), never that much. 

As if the birth of his daughter gave Batman another new light, and it was just impossible to yield to his old demon, to brood, when holding that ray of sunshine. 

It made them all feel...soft. And warm. 

It was nice, to know the bat wasn’t just a machine. They forgot it sometimes, that he was, in the end, “just” a man. They forgot why he became Batman. The pain and guilt he held inside. But moments like this, they were reminded of it. 

That the Batman didn’t exist because of hatred, but because of love. 

Because he loved his parents, his city, and now- 

His family. 

It was nice, to get reminded that there was a man below the mask. And though he could be an “a-hole” sometimes, there, holding his baby, he was just that. 

A loving man, who wanted to protect others. 

************

You made a note of every moments you would cherish forever of you introducing your daughters to them all : 

1. The shock on their faces as they beheld the sight of THE BATMAN holding a baby against him, and being so delicate. 

2. Your daughter being the star of the show, all of them smitten with her !

3. Your friends wanting to hold her, and how they beamed at her (and she beamed back, except with Barry, whom she only stared at for some reasons). 

4. Dick’s “game” of pretending he dropped her, and their panicked reaction. 

5. The success of Tim’s baby carrier, and how now, there was always one up in the tower. 

6. Diana and how it definitely seemed like she would move mountain for that child. 

7. How Clark’s eyes filled with tears again, as he looked at Martha. Because it made his friends so happy. You and Bruce. And especially Bruce. And Clark was an emotional man, who suffered too, and was just so happy “The Batman” was happy. 

8. How Jason seemed at peace with his little sister, and how whenever he held her, he seemed less weary than usual around everyone. Like Cass, he didn’t like much being amongst too many people. But now, it felt like he had an “emotional support baby”. Ah. 

9. Their reactions, past the shock, welcoming that new life in the world. 

10. How Bruce monitored his daughter being held by his friends, holding your hand. Even after all those years, when he acted close to you in his Batman costume, it made you...feel things. He always kept a facade as Batman. A facade that would crumble with his kids, and especially with you. PDA weren’t rare. And even after years at his side, it always made your heart beat wildly when he showed affection towards you in public, because it meant- 

Oh it meant so much. 

And you had so many more moments forever ingrained in your heart from that day spend up at the JLA’s headquarters. 

Too many to count. Some sweet, some hilarious- 

All positive feelings. 

And as you and your family stepped back in the zeta tubes, your friends saying “byyyyye” to Martha especially, with their baby voice (making Bruce roll his eyes), and as she waved at them- 

Waved for the FIRST TIME ever oh. 

Oh it felt like you would die of happiness. 

And still, Bruce’s hands held yours tightly. 

He knew. 

He knew, you were the source of this happiness he thought he could never find again. 

He knew. 

He never loved like that before. 

Yes. It felt like you could just die of happiness.

__________________________________________________

And here we are. I hope you enjoyed this. Don’t hesitate to comment and/or reblog, it’s always greatly appreciated :). 

Also, initially, the child was going to be Thomas (their son in my “main” storyline, if you already read a few works from me), but last minute, I was like : “wait no, I want to give Bruce a daughter, and the boys a sister. Also, poor Cass eh ?” and here we are. I really hope you liked this; I’m nervous for some reasons. Anyway. See you soon with another one ? 

[trixytheunicorn]

I quite liked this idea, so I couldn't resist!

New picrew chain idea: yourself vs what you looked like as a kid

Free for anyone to join in

Link

[sinofwriting]

I ❤️ MILFS - Max Verstappen

Words: 9,747 Summary: Max wasn’t too sure who the woman was that was always with Logan, but he was sure that he wanted to get to know her. Note(s): Sargeant Reader, Age Gap, Older!Reader, Logan and Oscar are both 20 during the 2023 season, not 22. The 2023 driver standings are different (I am giving Logan the season he should have had). Reader has the nickname Pan (short for momma panther). Logan is sweetheart, Max is head over heels in love. I’m gonna be honest I never thought this fic would get written or finished. I got the idea for it back in December but only started writing it on March 16th. And it would have never happened without @burningcupcakefire & @pucksandpower. Thank you both so much for all your help. (also if anyone wants to see more of Max and Pan, let me know)

Masterlist | Support Me! | I ❤️ MILFS verse

Max remembers the announcement of Oscar’s arrival to F1, the drama and hilarity of it. Sometimes he sees the kids name and has to stop himself from laughing. No nineteen-year-old had any business being that funny.

Max doesn’t remember much of Logan’s announcement to F1. Only that he was young as well, being the first American in forever, and Williams' quick admission that they hadn’t wanted to sign, had wanted to wait another year.

He wishes now that he had paid more attention.

There’s a woman standing in the William’s garage, on Logan’s side. She’s clearly there for him, with the similar pass that his trainer has around her neck, and the way her eyes intently follow Logan’s movements around the garage as he talks to the mechanics and engineers.

She also happens to be the most beautiful woman Max has ever seen.

—

She can’t help but clutch at Benny’s arm the whole race, terror gripping her along with pride.

Benny chuckles when the race comes to an end, Logan doing his cooldown lap and she finally lets go. “And just think you’ve got over twenty more races of this.” Her nose wrinkle and a hand goes over her heart that’s thudding. “Please, Benny.” He chuckles again but pats her shoulder. “You’ve got this.” “Not gonna tell me it gets easier?” He snorts. “No. This is far worse than F2 or F3 and we still were both scared watching him out there. We’ll never know a day of peace now.”

She sighs, watching the screens as it shows the top three getting interviewed and in the background you can see some of the drivers getting weighed. “He’s going to be sore and in pain.” It makes something clench inside her, the knowledge that Logan would be in pain. It was part of the job, the aches and the bruises, but it didn’t make it any easier for her to know. “I’ve already got everything set up as soon as he’s back and debriefs are done.”

Her eyes catch on the screen showing where all the drivers placed and tears prick her eyes and she shakes her head. “Twelfth in his first grand prix. I can’t believe it.”

The garage is filled with chatter as the team celebrates getting their first points of the season and their rookie driver performing better than they expected. The way they don’t even try to whisper it makes her jaw twitch. She was grateful that Williams was giving Logan his dream, but she didn’t like how they were going about it. Quickly and publicly stating that they didn’t want to sign Logan yet, wanted to wait a year. And now this.

A light nudge to her ribs makes her unclench her jaw and she gives Benny a grateful smile.

Both of their attention is quickly drawn however to the two Williams drivers entering the garage, the space filling with cheers.

She smiles as Logan grins at the team, basking in the smiles they have on their faces for him and Alex, the pats on the back he’s getting. The grin turns to a beam when he spots Benny and her and he quickly bounces over to them.

A laugh leaves her at the way Benny pulls him into a bear hug, lifting him off his feet a little. “Proud of you, kid.” He murmurs. She can’t hear what Logan says, but he’s put down and it’s her turn.

She wants to bundle him up in her arms, hold him and not let go, but doesn’t want to embarrass him in front of his team, so she raises a hand and pushes his hair out of his face. “You did amazing, baby.” He smiles at her, all bright and shiny eyes and then he’s wrapping his arms around her, hugging her tight and she’s quick to return it, rubbing his back. “You did so good, Logan. So good. I’m so proud.” She tells him again, pressing a kiss to his sweaty head. “Thank you, momma.” He tells her, hugging her tight for another moment before letting her go. She smiles up at him and god, that makes her heart ache. Her son, her baby, taller than her somehow. She woke up some days and still wasn’t sure where the time had gone and how he was taller than her shoulders. “Go shower and debrief and then Benny and me will take care of you, yeah? And I’ll get your favorite ordered to the hotel, ready as soon as you get there.” He beams at her again, darting forward to press a quick to her cheek before starting to rush away. “Best mom ever!” He calls over his shoulder and she laughs.

—

Y/N Sargeant will never forget the first time she held her son, only then at nine years old, he had been her cousin.

Logan was small, wrinkly, pink skin, and full of small cries. She could remember staring at him with furrowed eyebrows, trying to understand how he could be what her baby dolls were made to be like. She remembers her mama having her sit on the couch after asking her if she wanted to hold him and how she had quickly nodded, hoping that maybe holding him would somehow make him look better.

She remembers the sudden nerves that built in her stomach as her mama started to hand him to her. Remembers being scared that she would drop him, remembers thinking how stupid it would be if he was still weird to look at like this.

And she remembers finally holding that and it disappearing. His small cries, no more, his  wriggling calmed down, and his wrinkles no longer looked weird but cute. She remembers holding him for the first time and feeling unconditional love for the first time in her life.

—

She’s twelve when she realizes that her uncle and aunt don’t like Logan much. It didn’t make sense to her then, still doesn’t now. Because they liked Dalton just fine, but not Logan.

She remembers asking her dad about it. Asking him why they didn’t love Logan, but loved Dalton and worse, she remembers the pained look in his eyes as he realizes that his child picked up on what he and his wife had as well.

It’s the first hard adult conversation she has with her parents and it’s fitting that it’s about Logan, as they sit her down and talk to her about how not all parents love their kids, and how sometimes that includes them only loving one child and not the other.

—

She remembers clearly the first time Logan calls her mom.

It’s her fourteenth birthday and she’s got the four-year-old in her lap as she sits in a rocking chair, reading her English essay aloud for him. Logan’s eyes are closed, head resting on her chest, over her heart, and his little fingers of his one hand are curled in her shirt right by his head.

She wants to sit there forever, reading to him as she rocks back and forth. But she wants another slice of cake before Martha puts it away and Logan needs to sleep in his bed where he can stretch out fully and drool on his pillowcases and not her shirt that Martha will surely tut over but then smile fondly when she sees Logan doing it all over again.

Setting the essay down on her dresser, she runs her now free fingers through his blond hair. “C’mon Logan, time for bed.” He grumbles, fingers tightening on her shirt and she can feel it being pulled slightly. “You can put on your new race car jammies, cuddle with Ello.” He shakes his head, squirming a bit in her lap as he tries to shove himself closer. “Stay with you.” “Oh, baby.” She whispers, pressing a kiss to his forehead. “Y’know I’ll stay with you until you fall asleep.” His head shakes again and she has to bite her lip as his head hits her collarbone. “Want cuddles, momma.” Her heart thuds painfully in her chest at the name he called her, tears pricking her eyes. “Okay, baby. Let's get you in jammies, grab Ello, and you can stay with me tonight.”

—

She’s only been eighteen for ten hours when she asks her father for the near impossible.

“I want custody of Logan. I want to adopt him. And I need your help to make that happen.” He stares at her, no expression on his face, not even shock. “He’s,” She pauses, jaw twitching and tears springing to her eyes. “He wants to do karting, just like Dalton. And he’s good at it. I’ve taken him. They told him no. They haven’t bought him clothes in two years. They don’t know a single thing about his school, his grades, his teachers. He hasn’t called David dad since he was six and he hasn’t called Madelyn mom since he was four.” Her hands are formed into fists, nails digging into her palms as she speaks. “I have money, I can provide for him. I’ve got my shares of the company now and I’ve got my inheritance from Grandma Talls. But I know that a judge won’t sign off without some influence.” “Madelyn and Daniel?” She leans forward in her seat, a spark of hope filling her. “I already talked to them, they’ll do it.” One of his hands comes up to rub at his mouth, sighing. Then it drops to open up one of his desk drawers and he’s pulling out a bunch of papers, dropping them on the desk in front of her.

“I figured this was gonna happen and I knew after you talked to them and they called me. They signed away their rights three hours ago. Michael and Lily are waiting outside to come in so you can sign the papers.” Tears slipped from her eyes, joy wrapping itself around her entire being from his words, the fact that he called their family lawyer to be on standby, that he and her mother were so supportive. “Thank you. Thank you so much.” He smiles at her. “I couldn’t say no to you. Not when it comes to Logan. I’m way too young to have a grandkid, let alone one that’s eight, but I made my peace with that years ago.” “Thank you.”

—

Max watches the free practice session coverage intently as they focus on the Williams garage, nose wrinkling when they focus on Logan’s trainer, Benny and then James Vowles. Could it really be possible that they never once caught a shot of her? He starts to get a sinking feeling in his stomach that he's gonna have to go on Twitter when the camera moves and suddenly she’s there and he’s scrambling for the tv remote, pressing the pause button just before the camera switches to an overhead shot of the Bahrain track.

His heart skips a beat as he gets his first good luck at her. Her pretty eyes and smile. His eyes then travel down, wanting to know her name and his heart drops.

Y/N Sargeant, Mother of Logan Sargeant.

Fuck.

—

“Momma Panther!” Oscar greets to the confusion of other drivers as Logan and a woman enter the room.

Lando’s eyebrows are raised as he watches Oscar stand. Watching as his teammate claps Logan on the back, before giving him an actual hug. Before he then hugs the woman as well, whispering something to her that makes her laugh.

Pulling away from her, Oscar grins when her hand comes up to pat his cheek for a second. “Thank you for the invite, Os.” “Of course.” He sends a fond look to Logan, who's standing awkwardly by the table. “Y’know Logan and you are always welcome.” She makes a humming noise. “C’mon, let me introduce you to everyone.”

Turning around, he smirks at the table. “Everyone, Logan.” Charles lets out a laugh, as the others chuckle. He gestures to her, “This is Momma Panther or Pan.” “Y/N or Pan.” She corrects, playfully shaking her finger at Oscar. “I only let the F2 boys call me Momma Pan.” He sighs. “Okay, this is Y/N. Logan’s mom.”

Lando coughs, water going down the wrong pipe. Fernando’s eyes are wide as he looks at her. Charles, George, and Alex are all nodding. Max has a weird expression on his face and Carlos looks dumbfounded.

“She,” Carlos points at her. “Is his,” he points at Logan. “Mother?” Logan moves away from the table to stand by his mom, easily melting into her side at all the attention. The action makes Oscar smile, all too used to the easy affection between the mother and son. “I got pretty lucky right?” She shakes her head. “I’m just happy you weren’t a difficult child.” Logan both blushes and preens at the same time. Carlos shakes his head, disbelief still clear.

“Please, sit.” George says after a moment. “We haven’t ordered yet.”

The seasoned drivers and her watch amused as both Oscar and Logan usher her to sit first. Oscar easily then lets Logan sit next before sitting beside the American. The two of them sharing a grin after.

It makes her shake her head as she turns her attention to the menu, tuning out the sound of conversation picking back up.

The gentle sound of a throat clearing makes her glance to her left.

The current two time world champion smiles a bit awkwardly at her. “Have you been here before?” She shakes her head, turning her head a bit to look at him better. “No. To Australia of course, for Logan’s races and to visit Oscar once, but not here.” He nods and she can’t help but notice the way he swallows harshly. “We started coming here in 2021, it’s good food. Good drinks.” She laughs, “good gin and tonic?” He flushes a little, but laughs. “Yes. Very good. Heavy on the gin.” She nods, “I think I’ll have one of those then.”

Her eyes drift back to the menu, not even wincing at the prices next to the dishes. This was nearly cheap compared to where she had been forced to eat growing up.

“Momma, can we,” “Yes.” She answers before Logan finishes, already knowing what he’s asking. “Also you two, no hard liquor. We have plans tomorrow.” She continues, still looking at the menu.

They wouldn’t get drunk from a few drinks, but she had a feeling that Lando would try to instigate something again with Oscar, making the poor kid so drunk he could barely walk, again. And she didn’t mind people thinking that she was overbearing with Logan and even Oscar. The boys knew that if they really wanted to do something they could, even if she said otherwise. It was one of the nice things about being an adult.

Logan wrinkles his nose, glancing at the drinks part of the menu, before grinning. “They have it.” Oscar glances at what he’s pointing at, shaking his head. “You and your goddamn obsession.” “We come here like once a year.” Logan defends. “And no other country sells it.”

It’s not until after the server leaves, all of their orders taken, that conversation starts again.

“So, Mrs. Sargeant,” Lando starts. “Just Y/N or even Pan.” She sends a fond look to Oscar who had made that nickname stick. “And I’m not married.” She says, amused. “Ah.” “Not married.” Fernando shakes his head. “Now that doesn’t sound right.” She looks at him amused. “Don’t believe in premarital sex?” She teases. The older driver laughs and so do the others. “No. Just hard to believe that you aren’t married. You are a very gorgeous woman.” “Thank you.”

“So,” Lando starts again, giving Max a weird look seeing how his friend is gripping his glass of water. “Will you be coming to all the races?” She nods. “Yes, I have since Logan started his career. Haven’t missed one.” Logan shakes his head, grinning at her. “Nope, not one.” “Your work allows you to do that?” Her lips press together for a second to try and hide her smile at the gentle but obvious fishing they are doing. “I have shares in some companies and a very generous inheritance. So, no true, real work.” “You do some work for Grandpa when we’re in the states.” “I organize his desk for him, which he then messes up as soon as he sits back down at it.”

“You do not mind the constant travel? It is quite tiring.” Charles asks, curious. “No. And once I got Logan in karting, I promised him that I’d make it to all of his races. Maybe in a few years, I’ll stop going to all of them, but I am part of his team as well.” “Manager?” “God, no.” She shakes her head at Carlos’ assumption. “Cook slash nutritionist. Benny, his trainer is amazing, also doubles at being a physiotherapist for Logan, but he doesn’t know how to cook to save his life. So I make their meals.” “Mine as well.” Alex pipes in. “They’re truly amazing, by the way.” “Of course.” “Can you make mine again?” Oscar asks, leaning over Logan a bit to look at her. “I’ve missed having them.” “Sure.” She laughs. “Get me your new sheets before the next race, yeah?” “Done.”

—

Max watches from the corner of his eyes as she takes her first sip of her gin and tonic. Her brows raise a bit when the drink hits her tongue and he has to force his eyes up, to not focus in on her lips, to think about them and what they’d feel like on, he shakes his head. Forcing the thoughts, the ideas away.

“Very heavy on the gin.” She whispers, turning a bit to look at him. He rubs his hands against his jeans. “Do you like it?” “It’s nice.” She smiles. Relief fills him. “Good.”

He continues to look at her, wanting to tear his eyes away but being unable to. She was simply lovely. And getting this closer look at her, he can’t believe that she’s a mother, or at least a mother to a twenty-year-old. It didn’t seem possible. She looked barely older than him. Not at least thirty-five. She was probably more like Fernando’s age as well and he glances at the fellow two world champion, more disbelief filling him. Because how could the two be close in age at all?

—

Logan sighs as he collapses face first onto Oscar’s bed. Laying there for a solid minute before groaning and turning his head.

“Dinner was nice.” Oscar hums and he can feel the bed dip beside him. “You seemed a bit more relaxed.” “No media, and you and Pan were there. A bit more relaxed.” Logan scoffs. “Yeah, because you were so tense with media before.” As he speaks, he reaches out to lay a hand on Oscar’s thigh, giving the muscle a squeeze. “It’s nuts, isn’t it? I mean we all got told that the media was so much more, so different, but…” He trails off, shaking his head. “Yeah.” Oscar sighs and then he’s laying beside Logan, the American luckily moving his hand off and away from the other’s thigh before he lies on it.

“Y’know I have no personality, apparently.” Logan snorts, eyes opening when he hadn’t even realized he had closed him. The Australian driver also has his head turned so they’re looking at each other. “What? Have they never seen a Prema video?” He shrugs as best as he can. “I’d take that over my apparent frat boyness.” “You? A frat boy?” Oscar laughs. Logan sighs as he thinks a bit more about it, the mood turning a bit serious. “I just hope momma hasn’t seen it.” “What happened?” “She’s just worried. Thinks I haven’t noticed, but she’s wondering if she did a good job with me, done enough for me. And she’s given me everything y’know. I can’t imagine what I’d be like with them as my parents.” Oscar moves a bit closer, just a few inches between their faces now. “You’d still be amazing, still great. Maybe a frat boy.” The American rolls his eyes, but he’s smiling.

“I think Fernando has a thing for her. For Pan.” He clarifies. “What?” “I mean, just during the dinner y’know, he kept looking at her. And him calling her gorgeous.” “Well, he’d be dumb and blind to not notice that.” Logan scoffs, rolling onto his back and turning his head to the side, keeping his eyes on Oscar. “I’m being serious.” The younger laughs, poking him lightly. “I think Alonso has a thing for her.” Logan’s face scrunches up in disgust. “Dude, no. That’s gross. Momma isn’t even thirty and Fernando’s like forty-three. And isn’t he dating that journalist?” Oscar’s brows press together. “What journalist?” “The one that gave Fred shit.” “I thought she died?” The two look at each other, both baffled.

Logan thinks again of the journalist he’s seen around Fernando and the one that all of the Prema drivers, former and at the time current, had avoided or given shit statements too. They did look a bit different now that he really thought about it. Fernando’s journalist slash girlfriend didn’t have a fucking complex.

“Different journo.” Logan mutters. He then blinks, “wait, she died?” “Mate, you didn’t hear about that?” “No!” “She was supposed to be at Spa, remember. And we all were relieved when she wasn’t there. She died, car crash or something, I can’t remember.” “How do I not remember this?” Oscar shrugs as best as he can while laying down. “I don’t know.”

It’s silent for a moment, “you don’t think,” “No.” Oscar shakes his head, but he doesn’t sound too sure. “I mean, yeah no.” “Right.” He looks up at the ceiling.

“Okay, so Fernando is out of the running.” Logan groans, “Os, no.” “Look he clearly has eyes, but if he’s dating someone he’s out. He wasn’t the only one looking.” “Oscar, please, it’s my mom.” “She’s like my mom too, which is why we have to talk about this.” Oscar insists, wriggling closer to Logan. Their sides completely pressed together and when Logan turns his head to look at the other, their noses nearly brush. He looks at Oscar’s face, all earnest and caring and sighs. “Fine. Charles was looking, but he only dates one type, so safe from him.” “Lando was looking.” Logan snorts, “I thought this was for potential dates, not another kid.” He laughs, their noses brushing together from the movement. “Okay, no Lando. Max.” “He kind of looked weird when you introduced her.” He frowns. “I saw that too.” “But he also got all blushy when they talked.”

“The drivers do know, I mean Alex knows that she didn’t like birth you, right?” Logan’s frown deepens. “Of course. I mean, it’s not super well known, but it’s a little hard to believe that she naturally had a kid twenty years ago.” “Thought so.” Oscar then chuckles. “Imagine, them thinking that she did, though. Just thinking she’s got some sort of insane skin care routine.”

—

“How in the hell does she look like that with a twenty-year-old kid?” “I know right?” Alex says, looking at Carlos. “It’s insane.” Charles pokes at his own cheek. “I think I need to ask her for advice, what products she uses. I want to age like her.” “We all want to age like her.” George agrees. “What are you saying?” Fernando frowns. A few of them share a look, but Charles and Max share a different one. “Mate, you’ve got wrinkles and all these lines.” Max says. “I mean those are natural, but look at her. The skincare helps.” Fernando frowns, “Lines?” Charles touches at his own lines, “see lines. From smiling, laughing, frowning. All good things, very nice. Just not uh,” his brows furrow drawing a blank. Lando snorts at his struggle. “You just want to help your skin. Keep it healthy.” The older driver makes a humming noise, considering.

—

Her breath is caught in her throat, eyes wide as she watches the screen. Her heart feels like it is beating in double time. She wants to look away, doesn’t want to watch in case something horrible happens, but she can’t. Because Logan just overtook both Magnussen and Ocon in the same lap. Logan is in 9th. Logan is in a point scoring position with only five laps of the race left. Logan might score his first formula 1 points at his home race, at his actual home race, at his first ever home race.

Her hands are shaking, fingers locked together as she presses them against her mouth, trying to breathe, praying that Logan won’t fall back out of the points.

She doesn’t even notice that he’s lessened that gap to Pierre until suddenly he’s overtaken the other French driver, just three laps later. “Oh my god.” “Fuck.” “Benny,” she whispers, and one of her hands is dropping so she can clutch at the older man. “Benny, I think,” “He’s gonna do it.”

And sure enough he does it. Logan holds his place in front of Pierre and finishes in 8th.

“Yes!” The whole garage is cheering and she’s wrapping her arms around Benny, laughing when the trainer lifts her. “He did it! He did it!” She cheers. The garage quiets though as Gaetan starts to speak on the radio.

“Logan, you are on your cooldown lap.” “Got it. Where’s Alex?” She winces at the question, one of her hands grips at Benny’s shoulder as he sets her back down, the other holding onto her headphones that miraculously didn’t get thrown off her head or disconnected when celebrating. “Alex is P14, P14.” It’s quiet for a moment. “Okay, I’m sorry we didn’t get any points today, next race is ours right? The car felt great.” Both of her hands fly up to her mouth. “Logan.” Gaetan’s voice is full of disbelief and laughter. “Mate, you finished P8. You got us points. You got your first points.” She can see him react to the news, the car jerking underneath him for a second, before he wrangles it back under control. “What? What do you mean?” “You finished in P8. Clean race, finished ahead of both Alpines and Magnussen.” “Holy fuck.” The garage fills with laughter at his reaction and tears start to build in her eyes. “You guys,” his voice breaks. “Thank you guys so much. This was you guys, the car felt great, really.” She watches as James hops on the radio. “This was you as well, Logan. Amazing drive today.” “Thank you, James. Thank you so much for this.”

His mechanics, Benny and her, quickly go over to where the cars are parking, watching as Logan slots it into place. He’s a little shaky as he gets out of the car and he’s about to dart towards them but someone from the FIA, is ushering him to the scale.

His reluctance is clear even with his helmet on, but he goes. Letting them take his weight and as soon as it’s written down, he’s stepping off and away, fumbling with his gloves and then his helmet.

There’s an awed grin on his face, tears in his eyes, and seeing it makes the tears that have built in her own fall.

His gloves and helmet tumble to the ground as his mechanics and Benny surround him, celebrating his points.

Logan laughs when they finally let them go and his eyes light up when he sees her and he darts to her and she easily welcomes him into her arms.

“I’m so proud of you.” She tells him, squeezing his sweaty body close before running a hand through his hair. “You did amazing.” “I did it, momma.” His voice is weak and she can feel tears hit the skin of her neck where his head is buried. “You did it.”

—

“Logan did amazing, it was a good drive.” She blinks in surprise at the voice, turning in her barstool to look. “Max?” He smiles at her, cheeks flushed. “He did really well.” “He did.” She agrees before patting the stool next to her. His smile widens as he takes the seat. “I didn’t realize that Red Bull was in the same hotel.” Maybe she should have since she had spotted a few Red Bull polos, but she figured it was fan gear. “I think Aston is here as well. You aren’t celebrating with Logan?” She shakes her head. “We already celebrated. Him, Oscar, and a bunch of his friends here are throwing a party. I wasn’t really interested in watching them all get wasted, so this,” she gestures to the hotel bar, “is me having a drink to celebrate before going up to my room and ordering some room service.” “Could I join you?” His cheeks redden at the words, at the way her eyebrows raise. “Not like that. But for food? I’ve never actually eaten anywhere in Miami that wasn’t catering.” She stares at him for a moment before nodding. “Yeah. And I have the perfect place to take you.”

—

“Did I actually score points yesterday?” “You did.” “Sweet.” “Very. How’s the head?” Logan shrugs, “I mean, I drank a lot, but like I’m just dehydrated.” She shakes her head, “That will change in a few years.” “Not gonna tell me to not drink underage?” He teases, bending down to press a kiss to her cheek before grabbing her glass of juice and draining it. She snorts. “We’re in Europe most of the time and I gave you your first drink. I don’t think I have a leg to stand on. And you were celebrating.” “True.”

He sits across from her, refilling the glass and taking another drink from it before setting it down and starting to help himself to her pancakes, which she just pushes closer to him. “How was your night? You could have joined us. We wouldn’t of minded.” “I’m your mom, Logan.” She laughs. “I think the me going to your friend's parties ship sailed a few years ago.” “Yeah, but you're awesome. We like having you around.” “I know.” She smiles. “I wasn’t in the mood to watch all of you get wasted.” “Fair.” he says around a bite of pancake, which she sends him a look for and he quickly swallows the food. Giving her a smile that says sorry.

“So, how was your night?” “It was good.” She tells him, spearing a piece of fruit with her other fork. “I came back to the hotel, had a drink, and then got dinner with Max.” His brows press together. “Max?” “Verstappen.” She clarifies. “Red Bull is staying here as well, he saw me at the hotel bar and asked if he could join me for some food.”

“You went on a date?” Her eyes narrow at him. “It wasn't a date.” “You went on a date.” He scrambles for his phone. “Oscar is never gonna believe it.” “I go on dates.” “Momma, you’ve gone on like five dates. And two of those were before you turned eighteen.” She scowls at him. “It wasn’t a date. We just got dinner.” She insists. “Uh huh.” He says, clearly not believing her. “Did he pay?” “Yes.” “Pull your chair out, help you with your coat, anything like that?” Her mind flashes back to Max helping her get out of his car, his insistence on opening doors for her. “Yeah, but that doesn’t mean,” Logan continues. “Did he walk you to your hotel room? Say that he had a good time and he’d like to do it again?” “Oh.” Logan grins at her, smug, as he finishes typing out a text to Oscar. “You went on a date last night.” “I went on a date last night.” And she doesn’t mention the fact that a new number resides in her phone.

—

“Logan!” He stops at the sound of his name, turning to look behind him, where Max Verstappen is nearly jogging to catch up with him. “Max.” He greets, when the older driver is next to him, nerves filling him at the eyes of said driver on him, along with how a few other drivers are also looking at the pair, shock and surprise clear on their faces. “Hey.” Max grins. “How are you feeling about the track?” He looks at the older driver in confusion. They had just left the drivers briefing, why was he asking him this? Alex had already spoken about how the team was feeling about Monaco. “The car won’t be the best here, but we said that in Miami, so we’re hoping to repeat that here. Alex has a good chance at ending in a point scoring position.” He reiterates what he's been told and what he’s been telling the press. “But how are you feeling about it?” Logan stares at the Dutchman, eyes flickering around trying to see if cameras are there, if his momma is there, but there isn’t anyone. The other drivers are already gone, so are the FIA people. It’s just him and Max. “Y’know you don’t have to talk to me because you went out with my mom.” He expects relief, like that one dick Jase, and really who puts that on a birth certificate, but Max just frowns. “I know, I don’t have to.” Logan swallows around the lump in his throat, “right.” Turning around, he starts to walk, somehow knowing that the other driver will join him. “It’s a tricky track, it’s Monaco. I was here last year and I barely got in the points.” “P10 and P9.” He throws the driver a look, because that was too much to know, but Max is just looking at him, encouraging him to continue. “The car isn’t suited for it. I mean it wasn’t for Miami, but this is different. And I’m still not managing my tyres correctly, so even if I did manage to gain positions, I’d get called in to pit and lose them.” Max huffs out a laugh. “You are a rookie in a Williams, it’s impressive that you’ve already gotten points. If you could manage your tyres, when sometimes even I struggle, well I’d put you in Checo’s seat.” “Not yours?” He laughs again, “No. I’m a bit better at it than Checo.” Logan couldn’t really deny that.

“Do you want some advice? On the tyres?” Logan quickly nods. “I’ll take anything I can get.” “Don’t fight the car too much on the turns. If you need to get it to turn properly or without going on the brakes too soon, fight it. But when you don’t, let the car be stable, keep it fluid. When you come out of the corner, press harder. It might feel like you’ll go into the wall, but you won’t.” “And if I go into the wall?” Max laughs, clapping him on the shoulder. “I think you're a better driver than that mate.”

—

“How are you doing that in the turns?” Logan looks up from his notebook, where he’d been scribbling a bunch of random words. Looking at the screen, he watches his own onboard. He thinks about saying that it was Max that told, but no one at Williams liked hearing about Red Bull, especially with Alex in the room. “Just something I thought I’d try.” “Well, it was good, continue doing it. We may have ended up out of the points, but we got close.” Logan nods. Even with his five-second penalty, he had still kept fourteenth, and Alex ended up in twelfth. “Will do.”

—

Max had thought about her in his apartment a lot, an embarrassing amount. He had also pictured it very differently. A nice dinner, wine, even though a majority of it made his nose wrinkle, perhaps some kissing on his couch as a movie plays that they both don’t care about.

He hadn’t expected lunch, with juice that he’s trying to figure out how he’s never had it when he’s lived in Monaco for so many years, and a somewhat serious conversation, though maybe he has been expecting that one or rather anticipating it.

“I like you, Max.” He flushes, “I like you too.” He really did, even though his mother was going to have a heart attack when she found out how much older Pan was than him. “And I want to continue doing this.” She gestures between them with her free hand that isn’t being held in his. “So,” sensing that there’s something she wants to say. “I’m a mom.” He blinks at her words, panic starting to fill him. He thought he’d made that clear that he knew that, understood that. He always made sure to ask about Logan. He even had Logan’s number now after talking to him about how he felt about the Monaco track. “I know.” “Logan is important to me.” Oh, god, did Logan not like him? “The most important thing to me. And if we're going to continue to do this, I just need you to know that. He’s always going to be my first priority.” “Of course.” Relief fills him, his heart slows from its frantic beating. “I wouldn’t expect anything less.” She stares at him, trying to gauge how truthful he’s being before nodding. “Okay.”

“Did you think that I didn’t know that?” She shakes her head immediately. “No, it’s just. I don’t really do this.” She laughs. “Dating, relationships. Logan pointed that out to me, so I don’t really know how this goes and I just had to make it clear, put it on the table now.” “I don’t really do this either.” He hesitates to ask his next question, but does. “Logan’s father. What was your relationship with him like?” Her face screws up in disgust. “Ew.” He laughs, not expecting that reply or that word to sum up a relationship. But fair enough.

“I mean the idea of a relationship between me and Logan’s father is gross. Logan’s,” she pauses, seeming to settle on a different word. “Birth parents are my aunt and uncle.” “His what?” He could have sworn she said birth parents, but that couldn’t be right. “His birth parents.” She looks at him, concerned. “I adopted Logan when I turned eighteen. Did you think I gave birth to him?” “No.” He says, shaking head and clearing his throat. “Of course not.” She stares at him, lips pressed together. He sighs, slumping in his seat, eyes closing. “I may or may not have thought you were just a really, really young looking forty-something year old woman.” She immediately bursts into laughter and his eyes fly open at the sound. “You thought?” “The graphic for the race footage says you are his mother, I did not think otherwise. I just thought you looked great for your age.” He defends, a little embarrassed, but delighted by the expression on her face and her laughter that is still filling his ears. “I am his mother, just adopted.” “Not that either of you see it that way.” “No.” She shakes her head, laughing one last time before calming down.

“No. Logan’s mine, he’s been mine practically since he was born. It just wasn’t seen that way legally until I was eighteen and custody got signed over to me.” “Of course.” He then flashes her smile, “So can I ask how old you are?” She laughs, nodding. “Yes, Max. I think just this once it’s better to ask a lady her age than assume it.” “How old are you?” “I’m twenty-nine.” He looks at her with new eyes, the age making much more sense. “I would’ve said twenty-five.” “Really? I think you would’ve said forty-something.” “How was I to know?” He throws his free hand in the air at the tease, his other still holding hers.

—

“Hi, baby.” She greets when Logan stumbles out of his room, practically still asleep, as he drops onto the couch. “Momma.” He whines, resting his head on her lap and turning his face to press it into her stomach, trying to block out the sun. Her fingers brush through his hair as she forces her body to stay relaxed. It was always a fight when he did this.

She hated that her body didn’t bear any signs of being pregnant before, no stretch marks around her belly. She hated that she hadn’t actually gotten to carry Logan no matter how impractical it was, unless of course she was as old as Max had thought she was. She smiles at the memory of how flustered Max had looked when he realized her actual age.

He mumbles something and she turns his face away from her stomach. “What?” “How was your date last night?” Her smile widens. “It was good.” “Yeah?” She nods. “Did you see Jimmy and Sassy?” “No.” She runs her hand over his forehead, knowing that he’s thinking of Sooty. “We should talk though after you’ve had some breakfast.” “About what?” “Breakfast first.”

“What do we need to talk about?” Logan asks nearly thirty minutes later, his fruit bowl all gone and his coffee on its way to be there as well. She swallows, hands flexing. “Max.” “What about Max?” She sighs. “Well, baby, him and I talked about becoming serious last night. But that’s not gonna happen until I know how you feel.” “You know, I’m okay with it.” “I know you're okay with me dating, but this is a bit more complicated. Max is on the grid with you and we’re talking about a relationship.” Logan eyes widen a bit at the word relationship. “I mean, how does Max feel about it? About being with someone who has a kid on the grid?”

He asks knowing it will give him time to figure out how to tell her how he feels and because he wants to know, he kind of wants Max to be okay with it. He likes Max, and not just as a driver. The older driver is kind and funny, he also looks at his mom like she’s the sun, he makes her happy and that’s enough to put him in Logan’s good books. His mom deserves the best and he thinks from what little he’s seen, from how much more happy his mom has been (and god that was weird, because it wasn’t even like she wasn’t happy before) that Max might be the best for her. And Max now every time he sees Logan is always stopping to talk to him even if it’s just for a second to say a quick hi.

“Max is good with it. He knows that you're my number one and that’s never going to change.” Logan flushes at the words. “He also likes you, thinks you're a good kid.” She lets out an amused huff as the word kid leaves her mouth. It was odd to hear Max describe Logan that way, with only five years between them. But at the same time she knew it came from being practically a veteran in the sport. Max was coming up on ten years in Formula 1 despite his young age. He flushes even more. “Really?” “Yeah.” She smiles. “He always asks about you, it’s really sweet. And he knows to that if you aren’t comfortable with this or need more time then that’s what will happen.” “I am an adult.” “You are.” She was sadly well aware of that fact. “But you are my baby, my kid. I couldn’t be in a relationship with someone if you didn’t like them or if it made you uncomfortable.” He nods. “I’m okay with it. Max makes you happy, he’s nice.” “Yeah?” “Yeah.”

—

She lets out a giggle as arms wrap around her from behind, lips pressing against her cheek. “Hi.” “Hi.” Another kiss is pressed to her cheek. “Can I help?” She glances down at what she’s finishing up. “No. You could set the table, though?” “Done.” A kiss is pressed to her temple and then the blanket of heat that covered her back is gone. “What cabinet?” “First one entering the kitchen on the left.” She says, turning her head a bit to watch as Max pulls the dishes out.

Her mouth goes a little dry as she watches him. His t-shirt is tight around his biceps and chest. His skin is a little tanned after their date a few days ago on a friend's yacht. She forces her eyes to not look at his hands, instead trailing them up to his strong shoulders and neck and then to his face. Max, she thinks as he starts to put the plates on the table, is unfairly attractive. Before he can catch her staring, she checks on the final thing on the stove. “Perfectly done.” She mumbles with a smile.

The sound of the front door opening makes her smile grow wider as she grabs a pot holder. “Am I late?” “Just on time.” She tells Logan as he steps into the kitchen. “Can I,” She stops him before he can continue. “No, go wash up.” “Alright.” He bends a little to press a kiss to her cheek before turning on his heel, offering a wave to Max. “Hi.” “Hi, Logan.”

Picking up the pan, she shakes her head as Max goes to try and take it from her. “Logan and you are both going to get on too well.” “Why’s that?” He asks, a twinkle in his eye. “You both don’t like when I lift anything.” “What’s the point of having a son or a boyfriend, then?” Logan says, clapping Max on the shoulder as he comes back. Max grins at the younger, delighted as he claps him back. “Exactly. We feel a bit neglected.” She rolls her eyes, shaking her head, though a smile is stretching across her lips.

—

Max watches amused as the mother and son argue.

“Mom, it would be for two races, two, that’s it.” “One race, really.” Max chimes in, smiling when she glares at him. “Spa is nice, but Zandvoort is really what I consider my home race.” “See, it would be one race. Max wants you in his garage.” Logan says, looking at the other driver, begging for him to help but at the last sentence Max shakes his head. “I never said that. Well, I would like to see Pan in my garage, not for the whole weekend, or even a day. She’s part of your team.” Logan looks at him, bewildered. “But, it’s your home race.” He shrugs. “I’d like for her to stop by, you as well. I already have it cleared with the team. Staying for even a whole session though just doesn’t make any sense. I don’t need her on my side of the garage to know that she’s supporting me, wanting me to do well, not when you are on the grid.” “Are you sure?” Max smiles at Logan, because yes he was sure. Did he want her there, supporting him? Maybe even dressed in something with his number? Of course. But, he liked seeing her in Logan’s garage. Supporting him, wearing his merch, being a mom. “I’m more than sure.”

“Besides,” she says, drawing both of their attention. “Max and I haven’t gone public yet. Or really told anyone yet.”

—

“Well, this is a bit of an odd one.” Laura says as they stop in front of the Red Bull garage. The cameraman focuses on what she’s looking at. “Both Logan Sargeant and his mother, better known as Pan from Formula 2 fans, are in the Red Bull garage, currently talking with our current championship leader Max Verstappen, his engineer GP, and Daniel Ricciardo.” “Shall I see if I can steal one of them away?” Will asks, smiling at the camera as he holds the F1 TV microphone loosely. “Please.” She gestures.

Will steps towards the garage smiling at the small group hovering just inside. “Could I steal one of you for a quick minute?” The five exchange a look and Will stops himself from rolling his eyes at the way they all look annoyed at the idea, but Logan nods. “Sure.” “Thank you.”

He watches as Logan says something quietly to them, getting nods from them all. His brow furrows when Max squeezes his shoulder before the younger driver gives his mom a quick hug, making him shake his head. Logan Sargeant was an absolute mommy’s boy and it was embarrassing as all hell to see. He couldn’t imagine being twenty and hugging his mom in public, let alone all those videos and photos of him reaching for her hand.

Will ignored the part of him that did think it was sweet and felt bad for the kid. He couldn’t look all sappy while filming, especially not when in front of the Red Bull garage.

“Hi everyone.” Logan greets, taking the third mic from the newest crew member. “Hello, Logan. How are you feeling about this weekend?” He smiles at Laura. “I’m feeling okay, I’ve raced here before, obviously not in an F1 car, but I do have some experience with this track.” “And you and your mum’s visit to the Red Bull garage, should we expect an announcement of you switching teams?” She teases. “No.” He laughs. “No, uh, just visiting for personal reasons. Saying hello to Daniel, wishing Max a good home race.” “I mean, I’m not sure, he needs it.” Will jokes, gaining a few laughs. “So, no business to be done at Red Bull? Just saying a hello and wishing a good race to a fellow driver.” “Yeah,” he pauses, looking back at the garage where it’s just Max and his mom standing now watching him with smiles on their faces. It’s only that he continues when his mom gives a brief nod, one barely able to be seen by the camera. “And I wasn’t just wishing a fellow driver good luck.” “Oh?” Logan grins, looking pleased with himself. “I was wishing my new dad good luck.”

—

“Carlos Sainz is a cunt.” Max freezes at her words, hand still on the doorknob from just stepping into the room. “Hi, schat.” “Carlos Sainz is a cunt.” She repeats. His brain is scrambling because what exactly had Carlos done but also why was it so attractive to her say the word cunt. It had to be the accent, he decided quickly, still trying to figure out the Carlos thing. “And why is Carlos a cunt?” He finally asks, releasing the door knob and stepping further into the room.

She’s on her laptop, rapidly typing something, and he can feel anger radiating off her.

“That bullshit he spewed, blaming Oscar’s inexperience.” She scoffs, pausing her typing as she shakes her head. “It was an incident, a racing incident, something he knows a lot about. There was no inexperience fault.” “Oscar’s okay?” He already knows that he is, but knows it's good to ask. “He’s good. He knows that it's a racing incident.” Max winces. Wonders for a second if he should warn Carlos to keep his mouth shut, but shrugs. It wasn’t his fault that Carlos was getting in trouble because he couldn’t watch his mouth or correctly look at footage. “Can I help?” She sighs, hitting close on whatever she was writing in. “No.” She then closes her laptop, turning to face him, with a smile. “Hi. Congrats on the win.” “Thank you.” He bends to kiss her. “You okay?” “Yeah, just,” she waves her hand at her laptop, “stuff.” “Anything I can help with?” She starts to shake her head no as he sits on the edge of the bed, but she stops. “Actually, could I get your insight on something? Not just as a driver, but as someone who lives and breathes racing, loves data, really knows how the sport works.” “Of course. What’s going on?”

Another sigh leaves her, hand coming up to rub at her mouth for a second before it drops. “Why would a team not resign a driver?” His eyebrows furrow, because she knows the reasons, but he answers. “Not performing well, they want out of the team or sport, sponsorship issues.” “The driver wants to stay in the sport and the team.” Her lips turn downwards a bit at the word team. “And the driver brought new sponsorships to the team.” “They have to be not performing well.” “They’re a rookie in a back marker team.” “They have to be really performing badly.” Max says, trying to think of who in Formula 2 or 3 she’s talking about. “They already have six points and have placed ahead of their experienced teammate three times.” His mind is scrambling again, trying to find a reason, because what? “How many does his teammate have?” “Nine.” “I have no idea. Not unless there’s conflict within the team.” She shakes her head. “Is there potentially a more experienced driver for the spot?” She shakes her head. “They’re looking at another rookie or maybe someone who stepped away from the series for a year, though they’d rather take a rookie than him.” “I don’t have an answer for you. It doesn’t make sense to me.” She nods, expression falling and she’s rubbing at her face.

“What’s going on?” He asks, standing up just to crouch down in front of her, taking her hands in his. “The driver’s Logan.” “What?” “Williams isn’t sure they want to offer Logan another year.” Max stares at her. “How?” “I don’t know.” She shrugs, laughing. “There’s talks of them signing whoever wins this F2 championship or even the runner-up depending on who it is. Logan’s making too many mistakes.” “He’s costing them too much money.” Max fills in the blank, shaking his head. “That’s ridiculous. Don’t take a rookie if you can’t afford it. You are supposed to account for the worse. And he’s doing well. It’s not his fault that they built a shit car.” “I don’t know what to do.” She admits, voice just a whisper, and his heart clenches painfully at the sound of it, at the tears in her eyes. “This is his dream. I don't know what to do if that gets taken away from him.” “It won’t. We’ll figure something out.” He tells her, pressing a kiss to her forehead.

—

“I think I’m spoiled.” Max says, watching as she gets ready for bed. A faint feeling of arousal pooling his gut as she pulls on one of his shirts. He absentmindedly wonders if it would be weird to wear it tomorrow to the track, the scent of her lotion clinging to it. “Why’s that, honey?” He smiles, cheeks a bit pink, and that arousal builds a bit more at the pet name, at the way she shifts in the vanity chair to loosen some tension in her back. “You come to every race, you see me win, you celebrate them, you got to see me win my third championship today.” Those words feel weird off his tongue, today, but totally sober to celebrate. He wants desperately for tomorrow to come, for the race to finish so they can celebrate, him, her, Logan, the team. “I guess you are a bit spoiled.” He gasps, clutching at his heart, making her giggle. “That’s okay though.” She says, getting up and moving onto the bed, straddling him. “I think I like you spoiled.” He groans as she dips her head, pressing a kiss to the flutter of his pulse. “Schat.” It's a warning to stop and a plea for more. “I know.” She kisses the spot a bit firmer. “Celebrations will have to wait just a day longer.” She then rolls off him, his arm immediately lifting so she can press against his side.

“It’s cruel to win with a sprint race.” She snorts, “A sprint race never stopped us before.” “It’s cruel to win with a sprint race in Qatar.” He amends. “Very true.”

He sighs, staring at the ceiling as he calms down, luckily the feeling of her fingers tapping along his stomach not making it harder. “How’s Logan feeling?” Max asks, remembering how pale he looked when they got dinner. She sighs, moving somehow closer. “Not great. No fever, but his stomach is still a bit upset.” He winces. “He gonna be okay tomorrow?” “I hope so. The team knows that he’s sick, they’ll make the right choice.” “I hope so.” He echoes, wishing that Logan felt better, hoping that he feels better by the time the race starts.

—

“We are confident in him.” Max scoffs, tossing his phone aside. “I know.” “Logan still wanting to do his new routine.” She nods, lips pursed. He shakes his head. “He did good.” It wasn’t the rookie season that Oscar had, but it couldn’t be. Oscar got lucky enough to get a seat in a near top team, while Logan got one with a back of the grid team that was sometimes midfield.

Logan scoring ten points, getting himself to sixteenth in the standings, tied with Bottas in the standings, was very good for a rookie. It was a shame that Williams seemed to think he could’ve and should have done better. At least, Max thinks, the 2025 grid was wide open for possibilities.

“Are him and Oscar still joining us?” She throws him a look. “Us?” “You.” He amends, knowing that despite him joining her, he’d get caught up in Redline and different things. He was just happy she didn’t mind that. “Only for a few days and then they both are off to Australia.” “Will Logan be joining us for Florida?” “Yes. My mom has been asking the next time she’s going to see her only grandchild.” Max laughs at the eye roll. “So, Belgium first, then Monaco,” “You go to Milton for a day after.” He nods, “then Greece, Florida, Monaco.” “Not bad for the first few weeks of winter break.” “Not bad at all.” He agrees, wrapping his arms around her waist, chest pressed against her back.

It’s quiet between the couple as Max sways them.

“Max.” “Yes?” “Your mom, she does know that I’m not in my forties right? Or thirties?” She figured that the woman did, but she also had only briefly gotten to meet her at the one race, and there had been an odd expression on her face when Max introduced her as his girlfriend. He freezes. “Max.” “I knew I forgot something.”

@ohtous @cixrosie @darleneslane @fanboyluvr @teti-menchon0604 @eugene-emt-roe @quackquackhun @rewmuslupin @copper-boom @stopeatread @crashingwavesofeuphoria @jointhehunt67 @namgification @asphalstead @poppyflower-22 @racingheartsposts @gemofthenight @peachiicherries @lpab @hiireadstuff @iloveyou3000morgan @boiohboii @bibliosaurous @skepvids @elliegrey2803

[introloves]

𝐇𝐄𝐀𝐕𝐘𝐖𝐄𝐈𝐆𝐇𝐓

“allowed” is not a word toji is familiar with. hardly listening to those he has an inkling of respect for- he’s now barely tolerating a “hands off” rule implemented by his coach and you.

boxer! toji + dom! toji + man handling + orgasm denial (m! receiving) + pet names (angel, sweetheart, angel face) + rough sex + toji is a mean, evil man + toji mocks you + mating press + messy sex + reuniting sex + cream pie + overstimulation + size kink + humilation + teasing during sex + praise + f! reader

— word count; approx 6k

there had always been one rule to your relationship with toji when his season was in play. dynamics changing just a bit, because the one rule wasn’t imposed by him; but by coaches- his team advising the best course of action to ensure that he would come out victorious season after season.

and that was; absolutely, under no circumstance- was toji allowed to cum.

you could remember the first time that rule was introduced, naive and innocent to the world of this sport. mouth popping open in surprise when his coach stepped next to you, having decided to join toji on one of his practice sparrings for the first time.

the line of questioning felt odd, wondering why his coach looked over at you with a known smile- like he knew what was going to be said would spark some surprise.

“he’s a beast, huh.” spoken while looking at you from the side of his eye- watching while you squeezed both hands together, trying to calm the uneven thumping in your chest when every heavy swing was directed towards your man.

“mhm.” you nodded, lip hurting from the way your teeth dug in nervously, trying hard to keep your focus on the older man standing next to you while staring at toji.

“i wouldn't worry too much, sweetheart.” he assured, speaking up to let the men know it was a good time to take a break. toji looking over past the ropes at you two with interest, hooking heavy arms against the cords to rest for just a bit, sweat clinging onto the black tee he chose to wear during practice. throwing his coach a pointed look with an arched eyebrow- zeroing in on your sweet face, sending you a wink.

stomach flipping with the cocky attitude that emanated from him in waves, now more with the fact that an angel had their eyes on him.

“you two remind me of when i was younger.” the man chuckled. throwing a rag over his shoulder and turning to face you dead on. “in love, yeah? i can see it.” he mumbled, trying to find the right wording.

“passions high, things get… intense real easy, right?” the coach spoke, after seconds of looking pained by just forming the words leaving his mouth.

finally breaking over the focus you had on your boyfriend- trying to keep the burn down from the way he chose to throw compliments at you, whistles and pet names- even during his precious breaks. your eyes looked at the man next to you, crossing your arms in confusion and interest at what he was telling you.

“yeah?” you answer, inquisitive, trying to find what you had missed to be asked this.

“well, with the season starting- i gotta advise you two to… take a step back. i'm sure he hasn’t told you that there’s absolutely no sex before his matches, right?”

a singular squeak left you, pinching your lips together- the curious stance slowly turning into crossed arms and a burning face. looking over at toji briefly, glancing at his pumped biceps, the sweat trickling down his neck, and the kisses he was blowing you before swinging his head back and laughing into the gym knowing what was being spoken about given your shocked expression. you wanted to strangle him, preferred if this came from your loving boyfriend's mouth, rather than a man old enough to be your grandfather.

“no. he didn’t tell me.” you almost whined, trying to keep composure in the face of the only man toji took any sort of direction from.

he could only shrug.

“it's a conversation you and the boy need to have, take him home- sweets.” the man said, stepping up into the ring and calling over the other man sparring against toji, giving you an opening to snatch your boyfriend away.

“toji.” you whine, walking over to his corner- stepping over the rags and bottles littering the ringside, trying to keep your pout down to a half hearted smile while you looked up at him.

“yeah, angel?” he hummed, crouching down to try and steal kisses from you- quickly discarding the gloves in a messy heap against the ring floor. hands reaching down to cup your face closer to him the best he could with the wraps still on him. tongue eagerly licking against your teeth, biting down on the swell of your lower lip- nearly growling into every push. only discouraged from showing everyone in this gym who you belonged to when you choked out a small noise- embarrassment and heat mixing into a haze that felt heavy in your chest.

letting you go with a final suck of your lower lip, letting his tongue lick at his own- smiling proudly at the dazed look on your face. eyes lidded, face lax and swollen lips glossy.

“coach said we could leave.” you finally muttered out, stepping back with your arms crossed over your chest ‘cause you were foolish enough to let him get close and now you would have to suffer even more than you already were with the rule lingering at the forefront of your mind.

“yeah? i could still go a couple rounds...” toji murmured, looking back at his team- knowing what all this about. sending a frown at his coach, only to be dismissed with a wave.

“mmm, you don't wanna go home with me?” you wondered, sweetening your words- smiling when he huffed and nodded like there was ever going to be anything else he wanted more.

letting him off the hook for the time being for not telling you what was to come… or not to come and for god knows how long.

beginning the routine of putting his wraps away, grabbing a random rag and using that to freshen himself off a little for you- even though you liked him sweaty.

bruised hands, swollen and a little too hot- big and sturdy finding your own when he was finally done. taking you proudly through the front of the gym, like a pretty little trophy that he won all on his own.

and when the two of you were alone, happy enough to bask in his attention- laying pretty before him now that he had showered and changed into nothing but gray sweatpants that were held up by his hand while he walked towards you, peering down at you like he wanted something. eyes widening before you snapped them back up to his face when you saw the unmistakable twitch of his cock hanging heavy between his thighs.

it was almost too hard to cross your legs at your ankles- shaking your head between giggles that crawled up your throat. watching how he bent his body down over you, pressing your hand between his tits; remembering the words his own coach gave him.

“nuh uh, you gotta stay away- boss’s orders.” you murmured between trying to press your legs up between the two of you, back pressed down onto the bed while he grabbed at your ankle and tugged it up against his waist like it obviously belonged there.

toji scoffed, rolling his eyes- hot hands softened only a bit by the shower, rolling up your thigh. fingertips squeezing so hard it made you squirm.

you knew he hated the thought of being denied you, of being told what to do. but this came with the job, and you knew he couldn’t… you two, couldn’t afford to lose any matches. not like he could anyways, but still, you knew if he got too excited beforehand- he wouldn’t be able to put you down and from what you’ve read, it weakened them- men and those in his profession.

“sweetheart.” he mumbled right back when you finally squeezed your foot up against the middle of his chest and pushed, setting him back on his haunches before you. hands coming up to hide from him- not the smartest move on your end because in seconds he had crawled back up; this time using just a sliver of his freakish strength to set any effort aside. letting you know with the previous attempts- he had let you move him.

“nuh uh,” he mimicked right back, “if you’re not gonna let me touch- at least let me see you, angel baby.” toji breathed, pressing his scarred lips to the same hand he had pried from your face, breathing down onto it before dropping it. the weight of him pushing aside any offending limbs to curl down; lips hungry for any taste he could get.

passing them down over your throat and right above the swell of your chest- a kiss so tender it was nearly uncharacteristic of him; like he was apologizing to your body for not doing more.

“your loss.” he groaned before rolling off of you when your hands reached up for him- scorning you like it had been your decision; leaving you gasping and whining.

turning to fight with him before the sight of his hardened cock- straining against the gray sweatpants he had chosen to wear, stopped you. his gaze pinned to the ceiling instead of you, head cushioned by his hands. biceps curling and flexing like he was trying not to move.

shutting down any feeling of anger- seeing now, how much it weighed on him too.

easier to turn around- laying on your side away from him, face hot against your hand; a pout so deep it nearly hurt painted on your face. stomach dropping like it was all your fault- already lamenting about the complications of this.

all before toji slithered a hand against your side, bringing you right to him with no effort. cradling your body to his own, acting like his dick wasn't slotted between the two of you, groaning at the contact but taking no other action.

“this is going to be hell, ain’t it.” he wondered, nose finding purchase along the path he had pressed kisses to just seconds ago. like a dog licking a wound.

“mhm, ‘specially cause you think with your stupid dick.” you murmured- halfway giggling when you grabbed at his hand squeezing against your side rhythmically, bringing it up to hug; your own lips pressing soft passes over bruised skin.

feeling the hot breath of a sigh tickle down your back, trying to keep things light even when the sweetness you both approached each other with was charged.

“actin’ like you don't like it, princess.” toji smiled, teeth bared while a smile played on a face you couldn’t see. wrapping his arms around you further- a pass of his tongue up the nape of your neck causing the frantic wiggling of your body, whining when he didn’t let go.

“how long ‘til the match?” he wondered, speaking above your still kicking body in between barks of his own laughter when you couldn’t budge a singular inch off his hold.

sighing- rolling your eyes when you finally ceded, goosebumps crawling up your back; you went limp and sighed.

“two weeks.”

the next sound was that of a giggle from you when he let out a rather loud note of pure agony- something not like him at all; before scooping you into his arms, like he was trying to absorb your very being into his own, not noticing or saying a thing when the full weight of you nestled right on top his still throbbing cock.

and just to his dismay- the two weeks seemed to drag on. he wasn’t used to being denied your body, futile attempts to just sink the tip inside of you rejected night after night; even amidst the promises that,

“angel face- i swear it’ll be just the tip, won’t even cum, i swear it.” and maybe that would mean something if it was coming out of the mouth of anyone that wasn’t toji zenin.

having gone weirdly sweet when around you, especially after hours of sparring matches- pressing his face too hard into the curve of your neck. or feigning innocence when hands that always seemed to wander crept too close to the apex of your thighs.

his pout, ever prominent when you finally caught on and shifted away from him, trying to keep space so this exact thing didn’t happen. knocking blows to your own conviction, because it was so odd to see him beg and sulk- your man who always stood so tall, unwavering- and a bit mean at times, reduced to trying a compromise because he missed your cunt so bad.

but with the tension building- there was something like a secret being swapped between the two of you. a secret promise that every day would pass faster than the last- and before you two knew it; he was fighting.

the glory of it never waned, sitting ringside in your promised seat in his corner didn’t lose its weight. hands pressed into balls on top of your thighs while the cheering all melted together into one continuous roar.

the ringside walk took too long, but the actual fight itself didn’t. your eyes never leaving off of his form, the twinkling of overhead lights glittering off fractured drops of sweat while he moved about.

all show; knowing if he got close the fight would be as good as over. your own fingers pinched together while you watched, fingernails digging crescent moons into the soft part of your hands- holding your breath while he finally circled in, stepping close and letting just one fist swing upwards to the tired opponent. his coach sat next to you leaned in to congratulate you- as if you were the one who won before the man even fell down onto the vinyl.

acting like this was a dance between the two would have done a disservice to toji, he was dancing; the other man looked like he had been running for his life since he stopped foot inside the ring. your head coming forward to rest against your knees at the sound of the bell- signaling the fight was over.

standing with tears hanging heavy against your lashes while they toted toji about; the veins prominent on his curling biceps with every shake of his gloved fist- showing everyone who’s winning hands they belonged to. something like a smile and smirk playing on his lips when he looked down at you. a promise shared while everyone else was celebrating him.

holding breath after breath in your chest following a small reminder to breathe with every intake; he was yours, but the glory of having a man so hailed and adored by people never ceased.

step after step taking you to the locker room, standing still- nearly biting your fingers with unnecessary anxiety while waiting for him in the room powered by fluorescent lights.

waiting on him while others who wanted just a sliver of attention circled like sharks to fresh meat all the way to the same spot you stood.

too in your head to feel the warmed hands reaching for your upper arm, blinking away the haze and looking at him.

feet awkwardly moving from their previous perch on the solid floor, nearly tripping on the porcelain; exclaiming out something that sounded like his name, trying to remind him to treat you with more care, fragile in hands that still had adrenaline pumping through his very being.

but just like it was difficult for you to keep yourself from dissolving into a bundled mess of nerves, it was hard on him to not act on the all consuming lust growing with each passing second, bypassing any necessary interviews or just plain praise spat in his direction- he had you. it was all he was going to need for tonight.

driven by the single thought, he didn’t stop until you were pressed down into the corner where he had shoved his bag and clothes toji had walked in here with; sweats and a too tight black shirt. hands braced against either side of the metal locker; caging you in, already dizzy with the smell of sweat and a metallic twist.

eye’s wandering down to his body at the thought that this could be his blood.

“whose blood?” you questioned, trying to keep lucid- even while pinned back against the wall, hands roaming down swollen muscles. veins thrumming with heat after taking the ring.

smelling nothing but him and a sickly metallic tang that flipped your stomach over- trying to keep your hands innocent when all you wanted to do was dig in and pull him into you.

damn the eyes still pinned to his back, even while his body crowded yours. no one would look at you if he had any saying in it, and with the adrenaline still coursing through him- he had half the mind to grab your legs and hitch them over his shoulder just to prove a point.

“the other guy’s. but you knew that.” toji stated and it was true; but there was still a part of you searching to make sure none of it was his. even words heavy with discontent- not with you, never, but with the fact that he wanted you and couldn’t do anything about it. not yet.

you nodded, tears already dotting your lash line with how long it had been since you had him, and now all that was left was to wait just a little bit.

“take me home, toji.” you whine, shaky hands leaving a trail of clean skin over the blood splattered on him before wrapping your fingers into his wet hair- tugging on the strands eagerly. lips brushing over the curve of his jaw, breathing down onto his chest. tasting something like sweat and blood, nose scrunching at the thought that he was marred in any capacity. but you knew it wasn’t his, any scrape was miniscule- bruised stomach and side, the areas where his opponent briefly made contact would be gone by tomorrow.

“ah, fuck.” toji groaned, looking up at the lights of the locker room- stomach tensing with pool of lust simmering in his stomach, knowing he would have to calm down, if only a little, if they were ever going to make it out of there.

and when he felt like he could breathe once more, when the tight coil of pure arousal waned enough for him to gulp down lungfuls of air- toji took you home.

stopping for just seconds to grab his check and eagerly pulling you behind him, catching glances of you while he turned around. spoiled and greedy with the sight of you giggling at how eager he was, making you feel just that more special.

it felt like an eternity before you were tugged over the threshold, hands reaching for you before the door closed. body arching down to meet your pouty lips- hungry for you like he's never been before.

denied of you for what was too long- it all came to a halt.

cock pressed against the material of flimsy sweatpants, it begged to have you. pulling away for seconds to actually breathe, toji reached down to pinch your face, tilting your gaze up at him. watching you blink away tears and fit tiny fingers into the space of his palm and your chin, wanting to stop with all the pretense, the wait- the swelling of want.

“toji.” you whined, lips puckering against the dimpling of your cheeks thanks to his fingers still pressing in.

acting like he was mad at you for not giving in, like all of this was your fault- eyes watching to see the simmering lust he had grappled with for nights, and days between when it had been allowed.

the singular word leaving a sour note on his tongue- “allowed”. he was toji zenin- ‘allowed’ was a word that had never pertained to him, and it never would be.

leaning in to grab at you again, like a doll he could have his way with. the sweetest reward for waiting, digging in with extra force with that simmering anger that was flipping back and forth from his stomach to chest, a slip of just how strong he was.

knew it was hard on you too- could feel it late at night when you thought he was asleep to helplessly stick fingers inside, too spoiled and used to what he gave that it wasn’t enough. let you think he was asleep because when you tried and ultimately failed- it did something to him.

hearing you try to stifle whines, hide from him by curling into a ball right next to his heated body. attending to yourself in a hopeless attempt and knowing nothing could compare to him.

his lips peeled back into something that resembled a smile, black tresses of his hair stuck onto his forehead and tickling your own when he leaned in and kissed you.

tongue hot, and strong- it licked inside your mouth, swirled along the sides of your teeth, and stopped right in front of your lips.

caught between breathing and holding it in your burning lungs, treated like a victim of his- the unbridled strength he carried resting just beneath the surface.

you couldn’t tell if you were scared, it felt like it, but there was also a tinge of lust playing right next to it. but you just blinked through that tight grip of panic; it was okay to be scared sometimes, scary felt good with him.

a singular whine escaping between the captured air- bringing down that smile of his once more.

but it was softer, no longer tinged with that seething warmth.

toji blinked, and actually looked down at you- eyes focusing on different parts of what was right in front of him, lips pouty and painted glossy with his spit- fingers still dimpling the fat of your face, your own digits wrapped around his thick wrist in a feeble attempt to pry his hand off.

“cute.”

it felt mocking, like he could laugh at you any second for getting off on how he was treating you; it was so tempting to bite back that it was the same with him, he was getting off on humiliating you like this- holding you open to gaze down at the very chords of your being.

but you didn’t, you were *good* and toji knew that too- it’s why it was so easy to shift the hold of your face down to either side of your neck; fingers pressing into the thrumming veins settled right there. easy to let go once satiating the need to make it hurt, bringing his arms down to where your ass meets your legs to tug you up. letting you wrap your arms around his neck- dependable and strong enough to carry you with ease, trying not to bump into the edges of things while he looked up at you. taking seconds from this moment to simply press his face to the center of your chest, kissing you like you’d even feel it given the clothes keeping you away from him.

your own fingers moving from their hold to ensure you wouldn’t fall to the stray strands of hair littering the nape of his neck. liking the fact that it was getting longer- there was just something about his long black hair you found comfort in; liked it when he was wound down enough to let you run your hands through it- softening the edges of his being with your love.

thoughts of how sweet he was to you, and only you, interrupted when he finally made it into your shared space. unceremoniously dumping you down onto the bed like he wasn’t just adoringly looking up at you, knees dipping down against where your legs folded into your waist; dipping you down with how heavy and big he was. making a show in how slow he was to place his palms against either side of your face.

every movement calculated, like he was waiting for you to comment on the slow pace he’s chosen to take, and just like he thought. it didn't take long to look up at him, pout already forming on your lips.

“toji.” his name whined and already breathy, hands searching for anything that would tug him back up to you. needing him so much it hurt, the singular chord of need seemingly moving any limbs for a chance to entice him further. like he wasn't also panting and wanting.

dizzy when you looked away from his lidded eyes for just a second to see his sweats hanging lower than they had been seconds ago- the imprint of him heavy and low. eyes rolling to the back of your head with the wet lust pooling between your legs.

trying so hard to keep your body from squeezing down onto nothing, stomach clenching in its stead.

“toji.” named whined again, like he didn’t hear you the first time.

“talk to me.” you whimpered, trying to keep a creeping panic down. trying to worm itself up from the odd coil of lust mixed in- seeing him look down at you. jaw set and hands shaking; palms warm and rough against the round skin on the fat of your face. thumbs tracing the start of your hairline over and over- trying not to vocally grunt when the twitch of his cock was so forceful it knocked air from him.

he could only laugh, bringing the pads of his thumb down to swipe under your eyes.

“what do you want me to say, angel?” toji questioned, distracting you with the answer he knew you wanted.

too spoiled and needy, knowing you we’re nothing but a creature of want bundled up with a pretty bow and pleading eyes.

“want me to tell you how much i want you?” toji asked, bringing both hands- finally latching onto the waistband of your bottoms before tugging without restraint of his strength.

pulling you down with the force a good inch before leaning down and placing a kiss to your forehead.

“want me to tell you how i heard you touch that dangerous little cunt, every night? right next to me?” he hissed, remembering it all. tipping over the swirl of emotions settled deep into the pit of his stomach. brought forth with the adrenaline slowly waning, replaced by want.

a hand slipping between both of your bodies to cup at the heat he was just speaking on. pulling fingers away saturated in slick, smiling something sick before pressing his fingers to his lips.

canines glistening against the low light, prying out another uncontrolled spasm- hips jutting off the bed to plead better than any words you could stupidly come up with.

wet mouth coming down, those same teeth catching the soft skin under your ear, bucking once more- hips caught down with those hands of his. waiting for you to notice the heaviness of his cock, freed from any confines, painting lines of lust across the apex of your thighs.

“too sweet.” toji whispered, uncharacteristically, once more. teetering you over that small and tiny space he seemed to shove you in a moment's notice. nose tipping up to breathe, to catch any sort of lucidity you still held.

excitement pumping through your veins with every throbbing push of hot blood, you could see your heart beat now. could feel the swollen and equally hot cock head poke against your swollen little clit, nothing but jolts wrecking through your body with every passing second *he* was making you wait.

and toji was a sick, twisted man- letting you look at him and start another plea before finally pressing himself inside. physically feeling the contraction of your pussy before you relaxed, tears dotting your lashes. swallowing down his name with a cry when his swollen head popped inside, head pressed back into the bed to cry out nothing but his name over and over.

too dizzy to notice the way he picked up your limp legs, hooking them over the curve of his arms before coming back to you. trapping you, keeping you bundled up and tiny.

viscous, teeth gnawing against one another- toji groaned. adrenaline waning, dizzy in his own right, body strung up with nothing but physical strength.

thankful for his own power because the cunt squeezing around his cock so tight- he had to fight to fit inside seemed to sap any better judgment or mental fortitude.

“come on angel- your turn. you talk.” toji nearly bickered, trying to bring the focus back in your eyes. and since he was a sick, and mean man- he enjoyed seeing your face scrunch up, sucking in little breath after little, hiccuped breath.

knocking that focus clear off your face with pistoning thrusts so hard, the jolt itself tempered him through the thick fog of lust and pleasure. barking out something akin to a laugh and groan watching you shake your head and squish your nose up something cute.

how was he ever supposed to stop? how could he ask to keep his hands off you, when you received him so well- even now, while he bullied his cock into your already battered pussy all you did was shake your head back and forth and plead for him to give you more.

hands gripping onto the curve of muscle settled on top his bicep, anchoring yourself to the very thing knocking the wind and thoughts out of your body. feeling the push of your muscles against his hold on you, acting like you were-

oh.

toji has to bite down, gnash his teeth and breathe heavy tufts of air out of his nose to keep himself at least somewhat grounded. watching you twitch weakly, feeling you spray his wiry hair, and coat the sliver of cock that doesn’t fit inside of you with cum. hitching your legs further into the cradle of his arms while he fucks and fucks into you over and over.

“fuck.” the singular word spit out through his gritted teeth, balking with the fact that you came so easy. finding it unfair that you were so sensitive, you who was allowed to touch yourself. who was allowed the little moments of reprieve even if it might not have been with him.

he would have swallowed his pride for the time being, letting you do what you needed to get off.

but since toji is such a nasty, vile man. he knows that’s not true.

lips curling to smile down at you, like you did such a good job for him- making a show of grabbing the back of your knees, and pressing them further down onto the bed.

his eyes pinning yours down, like a wild animal sizing up their prey before pouncing. daring you to look away, wanting you to be the one who pushed through the hazy fog of burning overstimulation.

“that’s it.” he praises, despite what he’s putting you through, unrelenting thrusts, keeping you down small and unmoving underneath him he sees the way you’re slipping in deep. sharp smacks of his balls battering the curve of your ass that has been lifted an inch off the bed the only thing heard, apart from the sharp trills of your cries.

“please, please!” you cry, over and over- too dizzy to even pick your head back up, letting it roll to the side when he comes in close once more. tongue laving at the curve of your cheek, a simple gesture of comfort.

“my good girl. please what?” he asks, the vibration of his words reverberating against your clammy skin.

and toji never expects an answer, this is good enough- you do well enough in your own right to keep somewhat lucid while his thick cock throbs with every push inside.

it feels like an uphill battle from him too, watching every orgasm overtake your body- slowly eating away at the unshakable control he has over his own figure.

wonders why, after everything he’s done bad in his life, is he able to have a little piece of nirvana right here.

toji is gluttonous anyways, has always wanted more than what was offered- from you too. grits his teeth down so hard, even through the haze you can see the vein working its way down his thick neck.

holding off just for one more, one more orgasm from you, pretty little thing.

coaxes it out of you with those snapping hips- thick cock noisily sliding in and out of you with no remorse for the integrity of your walls. battering you into something soft and malleable, shaping the figure of his cock into your tummy.

you cum again, weak- sensitive. barely able to distinguish what hurts and what doesn’t, whole body shuddering in the midst of his strong hold. squeezing around him, beckoning him closer and closer.

in the end it’s worth it, letting yourself get used by him to watch the way he tips his head back- looking at the ceiling of your room before tremors wrack his own body. lips open while he pants out the singular-

“fuck! fuck-“ over and over, sealing himself against you with one last thrust. digging in as much as he can to make sure you take it all- make sure his cum is well received inside of the same walls still trying to push out his unrelenting cock.

and you feel so full, warm and shaky while toji slowly gains his own bearings- having gone limp long ago, waiting for him to come back to you. shivering with every weak throb his cock gives you, like he’s trying to push out every last bit of cum he has for you. the heat simmering low in your very being.

“pretty thing.” toji finally breathes- relieved. whatever pent up energy left now forming into nothing but pure adoration for you. something he had never felt before. coming to him as naturally as all the other mean, vile, nasty tendencies he has.

letting you whine like a little puppy while he lets your legs fall back onto the bed. kissing you, teeth nipping at the curve of your tear stained cheek- lowly chuckling with how shaky hands reach for him. wondering if you know how ironic it is to be begging for the very being responsible for making a mess of you.

“toji.” it’s sweet, called out in a way he’s not used to hearing his name in.

“yeah angel, ‘m here.” he huffs, feigning like there’s effort in bringing himself down to hold you. strong arms used in a manner foreign to their creation- wrapping you up against him.

“you did good, cunt missed me that much?” he wonders out loud, catching a glance at the pool of cum trailing down the middle of your thighs. letting both of you lay in the messiness of it all- too indulgent to clean it off.

watching you nod, eyes heavy- bleary. fucked out like an angel created for just this. his own breathing ragged with the singular pout, feeling your hands grab as if he’d leave.

wonders how the fuck he’d ever get through next season, and the season after that. knowing temptation itself holds its form in the shape of you, right here with him.

toji kisses you- trying to make you the singular thought in his mind. letting you rest before he puts you through it again and again, a creature of indulgence in his own right.

knowing he wants it all; victory and your very being. wonders how you drift off so easy with a man like him looking over you.

[lovelivision]

RUIN THE FRIENDSHIP!?

𝐏𝐀𝐈𝐑𝐈𝐍𝐆: geto suguru/reader

𝐖𝐂: 11.9k

𝐒𝐔𝐌𝐌𝐀𝐑𝐘: friendships are hard, especially when the lines are so blurry you can't tell where the both of you stand. so what do you do when you catch feelings on top of all that ??

𝐖𝐀𝐑𝐍𝐈𝐍𝐆𝐒: 18+ only, smut, angst (?), swearing, making out, annoying drunk stranger, fingering, dirty talk, marking, titty worship, p in v sex, clit slapping, creampie, geto fucks mean, geto is a TEASE, multiple orgasms, overstimulation, f!reader, she/her pronouns used, no use of y/n, i think that's all !!

Being friends with Geto Suguru isn’t hard… in theory but in practice it’s one of the most difficult things you’ve ever had to do. It’s especially difficult because he does things for you that feel like they’re pushing the boundaries of a normal friendship without actually doing anything weird.

Things like his insistence on bringing things for you when you’re feeling down, showing you extra care in how he talks to you, hanging out with you and having frequent movie nights, being attentive to your needs. While those things are innocuous in theory, it’s the way he treats you, talks to you and how it makes you feel that has your friendship feeling like it’s on a precarious ledge. Caught between pulling back or pushing over.

Sighing, your foot kicks at his sitting form, “Don’t you have something better to do tonight?”

“Like what?” His eyebrow raises at you, eyeing your lazy form, spread out comfortably on your couch.

You’d feel bad for taking up the whole couch if you weren’t so comfortable, “I don’t know, like a date? Hanging with friends? Going out on the town or whatever youths do.”

“Firstly, I’m older than you–”

Interjecting to add, “–Not by much!”

He only rolls his eyes, ignoring your interruption all together, “To your other points, I’m not interested in dating right now, and I am hanging out with a friend.”

Sighing louder than last time, foot pushing him enough to sway him, “Aren’t you bored of me?”

“No?” his brows pinching in confusion, “Should I be?” Hand grabbing your foot to stop it from kicking at him.

You pout, trying to pull yourself free of his grip, “I don’t know.”

“Don’t say stupid things,” he huffs, amused by your struggle. “I could ask you the same thing you know.”

“I like hanging out with you,” you grumble at him.

“Yeah, well, I feel the same,” finally letting go of your foot.

You’re feeling restless, he’s your friend, you know he’s your friend, and yet you can’t help hoping that your friendship is just a little bit more special. You groan and kick at him with both your feet.

“Woah, hey!” Both his hands grab at your ankles, pinning them down into the couch, “What’s wrong with you tonight?”

“I’m annoyed.”

“I’ve taken notice,” he’s trapping you with a pointed look, waiting for more of an explanation from you.

If you had an explanation, you’d give it to him but as of right now, you aren’t even sure if you’re aware of what you’re feeling enough to verbalise it to him. You deflate, looking back at him sheepishly, “I know you want to know what’s wrong, but I don’t know.”

“You don’t know? Or you don’t want me to know?”

Pushing yourself up, you cock your head at him, “The result is the same despite my answer, no?”

“No.” His tone resolute, “I could help,” he returns.

You deliver a very plain, “You can’t.” He’s the cause of your confusion, talking to him could make it all so much worse and you don’t really want to deal with the fallout of all that.

“Woah, awful dismissive of me, I might be able to fix what’s wrong easily.”

Turning so you’re facing the screen, you try to focus on the plot, “You can fix what’s wrong right now by being quiet and watching the movie.”

“I was watching the movie, you distracted me,” he pokes lightly at your shoulder.

Shushing at him quickly, “Shut, I’m trying to listen.”

He doesn’t say anymore, just goes back to watching the movie in silence, probably following the plot better than you are because you’re sat closer to him like this and can’t help but sneak glances at him.

It’s not fair, he looks pretty like this, face illuminated by the soft glow of the television, seemingly entranced by the movie playing. While gazing over his features, you find yourself constantly looking back at his lips, heart stuttering in your chest. You wonder how kissing him would feel like, would it help, wait.

Prying your eyes off him, you desperately hope to be shown some kind of mercy, you shouldn’t want to kiss him, you shouldn’t be thinking about kissing him. You need to get a hold of yourself.

Unfortunately, you are not shown any mercy and all you can manage to think about is him, how soft his lips might be, how he would kiss you, would he be tentative… or would he kiss you like he’s done it a million times before.

Not even realising you’re staring at him again until he sighs and locks his eyes onto yours, “Are you aware you’re staring at me?”

Trying to play it cool by answering, “I was not staring.”

“Are you alright?” He’s growing a little concerned by your unusual behaviour tonight.

“I’m fine! Good even, just… a little lost in thought is all.” You feel guilty.

“And just what exactly are you thinking about?”

Your skin flares at his question, feeling embarrassed by your thoughts, “Nothing! General thoughts… you know…”

“Right…” He’s clearly sceptical, not believing your flimsy answers for even a second, “Have I done something to upset you?”

He’s too much for you right now, you try answering confidently but fail miserably, “No?”

Moving so his body is facing you, he gets into your space, worried by your answer, “Why don’t you sound sure?”

“Why are you asking me so many questions tonight?” You avoid his gaze, flustered by him suddenly so close to you. Still thinking about his lips on yours, in the back of your head thinking about his hands on your body.

“You’re being weird, I’m just concerned,” his hand reaches for your face, “Do you have a fever or something?” His knuckles rest on your cheek, gauging your temperature.

“Seriously, I’m fine,” you’re fumbling more than you want to, eyes rounded and shocked looking into his.

It feels like you grow warmer the longer his hand stays on your face, it’s becoming difficult to think. If you had a good reason, you would kick him out right now but you’re already concerning him and you’re trying so hard to be normal. This night is taking a very unfortunate turn.

His face twists, concern written all over it, “You feel a little warm, are you sure you’re okay?” Hand slipping from your cheek, moving to rest against the back of the couch.

Trying to keep your answers short, you give a simple, “I’m sure.”

Geto doesn’t know where to go from here, his silence is evidence of that. You don’t blame him though because you’re not really sure where to go from here either, the thoughts of his lips on yours linger in your mind and you feel as if you could die.

“I just…” He looks to you when you start talking, ready to hear whatever it is you have to say, “I was just thinking – and don’t make this weird – but I was thinking about… how you would kiss me…” your words trail off slightly, growing quieter and quieter with each word.

His eyes widen slightly in response before he switches back to his neutral expression, “I–”

“–I don’t wanna know, don’t talk actually,” you cut him off abruptly, too embarrassed to dissect this any further and certainly not willing to have a conversation with him about it, already regretting having admitted to thinking it.

He questions you, clearly caught between being entertained and somewhat concerned, “I’m not allowed to comment?”

“No.”

“Even though you’ve been thinking about how I would­–”

Hurriedly moving your hand to cover his mouth, hissing out, “Shush!”

You’re closer like this, the proximity flustering you, the silence awkward, Geto glares at you from under your hand. He has something to say and is showing clear disdain for your repeated interruptions.

His larger hand reaches up and wraps around your wrist, trying to gently pry your hand away but you hold steady. Growing frustrated with this little tug of war game you have going on, he uses more force to pull your hand down, grabbing your other hand as well. Restraining them both in your lap, keeping you still.

Exasperated when he asks, “Don’t you think you’re overeating slightly?”

“No.” You tug back on his grip but get nowhere.

“Why are you annoyed at me over this? They’re your thoughts,” he reminds.

You’re irritated with how right he is, it’s not his fault you’re thinking like this, but it doesn’t change the fact that sitting right next to him makes it difficult for you to think of anything other than how soft his lips might be, or if he’ll hold you still while he kisses you, or if­–

He barks out a quick laugh, “You wanna kiss me that bad?”

Realising you were staring at his lips again you feel like you might spontaneously combust, struggling against his hold and huffing out, “Shut up, just forget I even said anything.”

He sounds restrained and incredibly serious when he murmurs back, “Might not be able to if you keep looking at me like that.”

“Don’t make this even more embarrassing for me, Suguru! It’s your fault,” you accuse indignantly.

Lips quirking evilly, “Oh? So, you want me to fix it then?”

“You should! Take a little responsibility,” you grumble out at him, all pouty and annoyed.

Leaning in closer to press you, “Do you want me to kiss you? Do you think it would help?”

“I don’t know… I mean…” you look to his lips again, gaze getting a little lost as you do.

If Suguru were being honest with you, he’d tell you how much you’re killing him when you look at him like that but he’s stubborn and a tease, so instead he says, “Eyes up here.”

Dragging your eyes back to his and staring daggers, completely pissed at him but mostly yourself for being so obvious again, “Do you think it would help?”

“You’d stop wondering,” he shrugs easily, like this is all so incredibly normal and not uncharted territory for the both of you.

“I don’t want this to make our friendship weird,” feeling pathetic as you look at him, you’re not even sure if what you have together is as simple as a friendship, it feels like so much more. At least, you’re kind of hoping it is, kissing him could do irreparable damage and you don’t just mean in terms of how you act around one another but specifically how you feel about him.

“I won’t let it,” he assures.

“I’m not worried about you…”

He’s taken aback by your small admission, it’s not clear enough for him to make any real conclusions from it or confront you on anything just now but he knows it makes his heart beat faster and flusters him slightly. In all his years of casual dating and serious relationships, you’re the only person to have ever made him feel like such a fool.

“It’s up to you then,” he smiles softly.

You aren’t sure if it’s worth the risk but if this is the only chance you’ll get then you don’t know if you want to risk letting it go by either, “I think… yes.”

Playing dumb, he asks, “‘Yes’ what?”

Your tone lowers again, confident answer short lived when he teases you, “Yes… I want you to kiss me…”

“You’re sure?” He asks but his hands are already moving up your body, one resting against the side of your neck, touch gentle and light.

“I mean… I’m not sure if this is a good idea but I’m sure I want you to kiss me.”

He huffs lightly in disbelief, breath tickling against your lips, “What’s wrong with you tonight?”

“You…” Frown dusting your features as you utter it, eyes already focused back on his lips.

He doesn’t say anymore after that, faltering in his movements a bit but ultimately moving in completely and pressing his lips to yours delicately. It’s featherlight, kiss shallow and simple, like he’s holding back. It’s still enough to have your head full, full of thoughts of him, of how soft his lips are, how gentle his kisses are.

Geto pulls back all too soon for your liking, putting some distance between the two of you, head cocking to the side as he looks you over, “Curiosity satisfied.”

“Is that really how you would want to kiss me?”

“What?”

At his question you’re suddenly all too aware how bold yours was, “I just… It’s nothing, sorry.” Fumbling over yourself, not wanting to hurt his feelings, “It was nice! It was a nice kiss.”

“No, no,” he squints at you, “Go on… say what you want.”

It’s quiet for a moment, your hesitance clear, “…Did you… kiss me how you wanted to?”

“I think if I kissed you how I wanted,” pausing to lean in closer, “You might pass out or something.”

“Oh, come on, you’re not my first kiss or anything,” you roll your eyes at him and his ego, “I was just curious, if that’s really how you’d kiss me then that’s all there is to it, it was a nice kiss,” you shrug at him.

“Why am I starting to feel like I’m being assessed?”

“If you feel that way then that’s on you.” Trying so hard to play it cool, like you can’t tell he was holding back, like you don’t want him to kiss you more, “Do you wanna go back in the movie? To where we were before?”

As you get up to move off the couch and find the remote, Suguru is pulling you back down to him, one hand gently holding the front of your throat. You don’t get a second to think about all the movements he just made, his lips on yours, rushed, like he’s suddenly, incredibly desperate to kiss you.

Barely able to keep up with him, head dizzy from the whiplash, this isn’t at all how he kissed you before. You’re basically panting against him when he does pull back, allowing you the small moment to catch your breath.

His thumb pulls down on your chin lightly, “Open your mouth more,” his eyes are lidded as he looks at you, tone deeper than before.

Obeying him wordlessly and then he’s kissing you again, tongue in your mouth. It’s all messy and rushed and has you losing your mind. Your arms wrap around his neck, and he pulls your body closer to his, hand moving to the back of your head.

When he sucks your tongue into his mouth and licks at you, you can’t stop the moan that leaves you. Swallowed down by Geto in an appreciative manner, his kiss lingers for a while longer, making you dizzy and thoughtless. He pulls back from you, connected by a string of saliva that snaps when he licks at his lower lip.

The look on your face is dumbstruck, eyes big and wet as you gaze up at him in a dazed manner. It makes him feel feral, not able to help the way he leans back in and presses more short, sloppy kisses to your swollen lips.

There’s a pause before you can regain your faculties enough to say anything to him and even then, the only thing you can manage is, “I… uhm…”

“Was that better?” He’s trying to be light-hearted about it, but his lips are swollen as well, and his eyes are lidded, and he looks… “You didn’t pass out did you?” His head lowers so his eyes catch yours.

Your brain feels fuzzy and all you can think about it how you’ve never been kissed like that before, that you want to keep being kissed like that, “What? No… I just… wow.”

“Live up to your expectations?”

“I didn’t really have any, I was only curious…” Smiling big at him, you add, “But yeah, maybe even exceeded them.”

“You aiming to boost my ego, or did I really kiss you stupid?” He can’t help the way he leans in again, just shy of your lips.

Mouth on yours before you get to answer or refute what he’s accused, you don’t stop him though, allowing him to kiss you fully, deeply. One of his hands on the side of your face, holding you, the other grips at your hip, almost tugging you in closer.

Before you lose focus again, you part to gasp out, “I don’t know if–” interrupted by his lips on yours, hand tangling into his hair to pull him back, he groans at the force of the tug, “Suguru, I don’t think it’s a good idea to keep–”

“–Just another kiss, one more…” breathless in how he asks, mouth hot on yours, tongue already in your mouth.

It’s almost too much, he’s so insistent, he’s kissing you like he might never get to again, like he’s trying to get the most out of this. He might actually have you passing out, it’s not even as if you really want him to stop but that’s part of the problem, isn’t it?

Pulling back, he sucks on your lower lip before nipping at it, the whimper he pulls from you is embarrassing and weak and you’re facing an internal conflict of so many emotions right now but mostly you’re struck by how badly you want to sleep with him.

You hadn’t realised his hand had snuck under your shirt, warm and large against your side, sending a shiver down your spine. The breathlessness you’re hit with has your skin feeling hot as you try to stumble out your words, “I, uh, think we should stop… here.”

“Why? Am I not a good kisser? Are you not enjoying yourself?” A smile creeps onto his face, “You sounded like you were enjoying yourself.”

“Don’t.” Your head tucks down and onto his chest, forehead leaning against him, “Please don’t embarrass me.”

He wraps his arms around your body, embracing you, “Can’t help it.”

You stay like this for probably longer than you should, enjoying the moment too much for someone who’s about to go back to being just his friend.

Geto breaks the silence first, speaking into the top of your head, “Is your curiosity satisfied or are you going to start kicking me again?”

“I can’t promise I’ll never kick you again but yeah… I’m satisfied.”

He laughs against you, “Alright, well, if you’re ever curious again… you know where to find me.”

⋆ ˚｡⋆୨୧˚

It’s been about a week since you crossed a line you probably shouldn’t have in your friendship with Geto, and like the incredibly brave individual you are… you have been ignoring him.

Not on purpose though, you intend on replying to all his messages… but then you get nervous and freak yourself out and stop short of sending anything back. From his messages, you can tell he’s getting increasingly more worried… or maybe frustrated… you’re not sure, there is only so much you can infer over text.

Maybe you should reply, looking at his last message that reads, ‘seriously? answer me. today.’ Oh yeah… he’s annoyed, you have no idea how to reply to him, maybe something simple? Or maybe a long paragraph overexplaining yourself… or maybe–

Your phone screen changes to Shoko’s caller ID, saved by the metaphorical bell, “Hey! What’s up?”

She sounds a bit short when she answers you, “Are you coming tonight?”

“Tonight…” You trail off, completely blanking on what the hell she’s talking about.

Her reply coming incredibly deadpan and disappointed, “You forgot.”

“No noo, I would never forget about…” The rest of your sentence dropping off, silence falling over the line.

She fills in the gaps for you, “The stupid party that’s being thrown by our stupid friends to celebrate the stupid event that is a boring, normal, Friday night.”

She already sounds over it and you’re pretty sure she would’ve only just got there, “Okay, well… I now feel significantly better about the fact that I actually had forgotten what tonight was.”

“Yeah well I wish I had forgotten too because this is boring without you.”

“Didn’t you only just get there?”

“I feel like that’s beside the point,” you can feel her eyeroll through the phone, “So, when are you getting here?”

Sighing as you ask, “Do I really have to come?”

Not missing a single beat when she shoots back, “I’m here which means yes, you do.”

You go quiet for a moment, “…Will Suguru be there?”

“You’re more likely to know than me,” she sounds confused, “Listen, I don’t know what happened but surely you don’t think you can avoid him forever.”

“Not forever… just tonight,” you really don’t feel like running into him in person, not when you can barely get your head on straight long enough to message him back.

“I haven’t seen him, and he didn’t sound all that interested when this was first planned so I doubt he will show up.”

“You’re not just lying to get me there, are you?”

“Of course not,” it’s always been hard to tell when she’s joking but you’re pretty sure Suguru isn’t there, if you had been replying to him, you probably would’ve ended up hanging out together tonight just to avoid that pointless party.

Deciding to take the risk, you acquiesce, “Alright, I’ll be there soon, just give me a bit to put on something that isn’t pyjamas.”

Getting out of the apartment will be good for you, that and you’ll have the chance to catch up with Shoko, it’s been a while since you last hung out.

“Just come in your pyjamas.”

“Okay, now you’re being unreasonable,” you chuckle.

She groans through the phone, “Gojo and I just made eye contact, that’s like asking to be trapped in a conversation for at least an hour.”

You smile at her and her exaggeration, “That’s really funny, tell him I said hi.”

“Don’t hang up on me–”

The line goes dead as you hang up on her.

Nearly an hour has passed by the time you get to the party, but when you make eye contact with Shoko across the room – still stuck in conversation with Gojo – it looks like a century has passed for her.

Walking up to them both, you grab Gojo by the sides of his arms and shake him, making a loud noise to scare him as you do. He just about dies then and there, head whipping around to see it’s just you and gripping a hand over his chest.

He’s a little breathless when he scolds you, “You scared the fuck outta me, what the hell?”

“I thought it would be funny,” you smile bright at him, out the corner of your eye seeing Shoko fighting a smile and hiding it behind her drink.

“It wasn’t,” he half pouts.

“It kinda was,” Shoko interjects.

He just continues to pout over how badly you got him.

“Hi Satoru,” you chirp at him, trying to be as sweet as possible for scaring the living daylights out of him.

“Yes, hello,” he fights a smile when greeting you back, and then his face twists as if suddenly remembering something, “Hey! What happened with you and Suguru?”

Taken aback by his abruptness, “What?”

Staring intently at you, seemingly desperate to know your business, “I know something happened, you gotta tell me what.”

Honestly, you would’ve thought Geto would’ve told him by now, seeing as how they’re sort of attached at the hip, “He hasn’t told you?”

“He’s insistent that nothing is wrong.”

“Then nothing’s wrong.”

“I know something is wrong and I also know you’re dodging him because he made me text you to see if you’d reply and you replied within the same minute,” he squints at you accusatorily.

Arms crossing over your chest as you size him up, “You sent me a photo of the cat that hangs out in your neighbourhood as bait? That’s messed up Satoru.”

“I was investigating,” he defends.

“No, you were being nosy, just like you are now.” Something occurs to you very suddenly, “Wait, if you’re here… and I’m here… where is Suguru?”

“Here, obviously,” he shrugs.

Turning, you glare at Shoko who raises her hands in defence, “Don’t look at me like that, I didn’t lie, I really haven’t seen him. I’ve been trapped in conversation with this idiot the whole time.”

“Trapped? That’s so mean Shoko,” Gojo plays up his hurt, sulking and giving her the saddest eyes he can muster. It unsurprisingly has no effect on her.

He’s here somewhere, you need to leave before he sees you. You’re so annoyed at yourself for not connecting that Gojo being here obviously meant Geto was going to be here too, especially since he wasn’t with you.

Spinning, you go for the front door you came through not that long ago, getting it open a crack before a hand above your head closes it. Turning around, you come face to face with Suguru, a very annoyed Suguru. Polite smile painted on his face but his eyebrow twitches slightly.

His weight supported by his hand on the door, leaning down to you, “And where are you going?”

“I was just gonna… head home… get an early night?” Looking away from him as you lie poorly, not able to look at him without thinking about how he kissed you.

He points out, “You just got here though.”

“Yeah, it’s just… not my scene…” In your defence, not a complete lie.

“Really? Because it feels like you’re avoiding me.” He leans down to catch your eyes with his, sick of you avoiding eye contact.

You’re only able to look at him incrementally, eyes flicking from his, to the wall behind him, “No there’s no reason for me to be avoiding you, I don’t know why you would think that.”

“Oh good! That means you can stay then,” face scrunching with his – now – less than polite smile. Clearly growing frustrated with how you’re refusing to communicate with him properly.

You have no excuses to give, nothing good or even remotely believable anyways, “I uhh–”

Cutting you off to give an ultimatum, “–Either we’re leaving and talking like adults or you’re staying right here and suffering through this whole night with me right by your side.”

His choice in wording disgruntles you, locking eyes to say, “It doesn’t cause me suffering to be beside you, Suguru,” you want to make at least that much clear.

He gives you a tight-lipped smile, “Good. Then you won’t mind me not leaving your side.”

Weighing your options, you don’t know what would be better right now. On the one hand you’d get to leave but then you’d have to tell him about how much you’re affected by the line you crossed, about how you’re developing feelings for him that you shouldn’t have indulged in. On the other, you stay but he lingers around you all night and you’re left haunted by all the things you want to say but can’t quite bring yourself to.

“Let’s go back to everyone then,” you smile back at him.

His face drops, “You don’t wanna talk about it that bad?”

“Suguru, you’re looking for answers I don’t even know if I can give you.”

He relents and takes a step back from you, “Fine. But just so you know, you can’t get rid of me that easily.” Waiting for you to want to talk first seems to be his main goal but you can see just how impatient he’s getting.

You ignore his comment and walk past him back to Gojo and Shoko in the other room, they’re both exactly where you left them. It’s awkward, for you anyways, you don’t know about them or everyone else here, but you feel awkward.

It carries on for the whole night, it’s been a couple hours now and Suguru is still just following you around wordlessly. Only speaking to others when spoken too, engaging in some conversation, only to cut it short when you move on.

This really isn’t fun for you, normally not even bothering to come to house parties like this and only doing this as a favour to Shoko but she’s gone home now, and you’re left here with just Geto. You’d leave too, but you have a feeling Geto is going to follow you home, or at the very least make you talk to him before you try leaving and you’re just… so not in the mood.

Sighing softly to yourself as you walk into the kitchen, somehow managing to shake your tail, for now. Taking the small reprieve as a chance to breathe and think, which is cut short when some stranger starts a conversation with you.

“Hi! You’re really hot, do you want a drink? I can make you a drink. I’ve never seen you here before and trust me – I’d remember you.” He’s slurring his words slightly, “So, drink? You wan– I can get you a–”

He’s really forward, and drunk, it’s making you uncomfortable, especially since you’re far to sober and far too annoyed to have to deal with drunk men. “–I’m good, thank you, I’m not drinking.”

“Oh, come on! Jus one drink, it’ll loosen you up,” he moves in to elbow your shoulder lightly, “You’re too hot to be­– to be such a downer, maybe a smile would help.”

Completely unamused and slowly shuffling back away from him, “I think I’d prefer you just leave me alone; I’m not interested.”

“Don– don’t be like that,” he sulks at you.

Your back collides with someone’s front and looking up you can see it’s your missing stalker of the night. As annoyed at Geto as you are, you are endlessly thankful for his timing, physically feeling yourself relax now that he’s here.

Geto glares down at the pushy guy, “She’s not interested.”

“Oh man, I didn’t know she had– had a boyfriend, you know you should keep an eye on her,” the drunk idiot leers at you, “She’s kind of a tease, leading me on,” he shrugs.

Your face grimaces at his words and the way he eyes you, feeling incredibly uncomfortable. Suguru moves in front of you, shielding you from him, his lip twitches at this guy’s words, “Excuse me?”

“No, well… I jus mean she didn’t tell me­–”

“–She said she wasn’t interested, that was enough,” Geto’s tone is growing more irritated by the moment.

“Suguru, let’s just go, it’s fine,” you tug on the hem of his jacket, not really wanting to have to deal with the fallout of whatever may happen if this idiot keeps unwittingly provoking Geto. He tries his best, but he has a breaking point, and he tends to hit it pretty quick when you’re involved.

He glances back at you, “It’s not fine.”

“Okay, it’s not but I kinda can’t stand this guy and this party sucks and I’m annoyed, and I don’t wanna be here anymore,” you feel a little pathetic for whinging but you’re so drained and this guy was your breaking point.

All his attention drops from that guy to you, his hands coming up to either side of your face, taking in how tired you look. Thumbs stroking high on your cheekbones, “Alright, let’s leave.”

Relief in your bones at the fact you’re about to be gone from here, “Thank you.”

From behind Geto you can see the drunk take the opportunity to slip away, apparently smart enough to use this distraction to his advantage. If Geto notices, he doesn’t say anything, clearly done with him, all attention on you now.

He hums at you, asking, “How’d you get here?”

Your eyes flick back to his, “I didn’t drive, if that’s what you’re asking,” you took an uber, you thought you’d either catch a ride with Shoko, or you’d take another uber home.

“You’re riding with me then.” His large hand takes yours, “Come on,” he’s tugging you through the house behind him.

The car ride has been quiet, you can feel your head drooping and your eyes closing, very nearly falling asleep. That is until, you notice Geto isn’t taking you to your house, instead heading towards his.

Turning to face him, you ask, “Why are we going back to yours?”

Without turning to look at you, he replies, “Because you’ve been avoiding me, so I am now forcing you to spend time with me.”

He’s decidedly not funny. Sighing as you try to chide him, “Suguru–”

Finally glancing your way only to speak over you, “–Don’t ‘Suguru’ me, my place is closer and you’re tired, if you weren’t being so weird around me ever since I k–”

“–Shhh, be quiet.” Your cheeks suddenly feel warm at the memory of how insistent his kisses were.

“All I’m saying is, if you weren’t being so weird around me, you’d come back to mine tonight anyways.”

It’s frustrating to you that he’s right, you normally would just go back to his and crash in his bed and then you’d make him breakfast the next morning to make up for the fact that you’d taken up his whole bed.

The only thing you can think to say is a flat, “…Fine.” Crossing your arms and looking out the car window the rest of the short drive.

⋆ ˚｡⋆୨୧˚

Back at his apartment, he lends you some clothes to sleep in. It’s all incredibly intimate, showering in his bathroom, using the spare toothbrush you keep here, wearing his clothes, has your friendship always been this intimate or are you just looking at it in a new light.

Leaving his bathroom, you find him in his room, getting his bed ready for you to sleep in, you stand awkwardly at the foot of it, “I’ll just sleep on your couch.”

“Don’t be ridiculous, you always sleep in the bed with me.”

“Yeah but…” Your brows settle into a deep frown, “Do you not feel weird?”

He drops the blanket back onto the bed, exasperation with you clear, “I said to you – I wouldn’t let it affect our friendship, and that’s what I’m doing.” Turning to look at you before adding, “You’re the one making it weird.”

“I know that…” You also know that you were the one who said you weren’t worried about him.

His arms are crossed as he looks you over, “I’m gonna shower now, you don’t have to sleep in the bed, but I think you should, you know firsthand how awful that couch is.”

“Go have your shower,” you shoo him out of the room, standing in the middle of it, alone, considering what you should do.

The couch really is atrocious, it’s part of the reason why you started sleeping in his bed when you visited. He always says he’ll get a nicer couch or a blow-up mattress for you, but he never does, and you always end up in his bed anyways.

Deciding you’re too drained to think any harder about all of this, you crawl into his bed and make yourself comfortable. Everything is so frustrating to you right now, have you always felt this confused about your friendship or were the lines blurred for so long that you’re having trouble understanding where you both stand.

The irony of the situation is annoying and almost laughable because if it were about anyone else you’d be hitting up Geto and asking for his advice on it all.

When he comes back into the room, he shuffles around a bit before turning off the lights and getting into bed beside you. You’re lying on your side with your back to him, pretending to already be asleep.

His voice cuts through the quiet of the room, “I miss you.”

Your reaction to it is almost visceral, how are you meant to reply to that. It doesn’t help you feel better at all, only leaving you longing for something you don’t know if you’re allowed to claim.

Your friendship has always been on a precarious ledge but it’s only now that you let yourself acknowledge the disgusting depth of your feelings for him.

You mumble into the pillow, “I’m right here.”

“Then why do you feel so far away?”

Readjusting, you rotate so you’re facing him, not completely prepared for him to already be facing you. Propped up on his elbow, closer than your poor heart was ready for. You lower your head, so you don’t have to look at his face, “I wasn’t purposefully ignoring you, I really did want to reply.”

He pushes, “So why didn’t you?”

“I didn’t know what to say…”

“What can I do to help?” He lowers himself down to your level, head on his bicep.

You still avoid his gaze, “Nothing, you can’t do anything.”

“You’re being–”

“–You are the problem, Suguru, there is nothing you can do to help but get out of my head,” you meet his eyes, frown prominent on your face, “You and your stupid kiss, you made it all a thousand times worse for me.”

“Making out with me was so life changing that you can’t get it out of your head, and you’re annoyed at me for that? You’re the one who wanted to know what it was like.” He’s trying to keep his tone light-hearted but he’s struggling, seemingly growing more irritated by it all.

You grumble at him, discontent, “You don’t need to point out the obvious, stupid.”

A noise of disagreement comes from him, “Well, I feel like I kinda do, since you’re overreacting.”

“I am not overreacting.”

“You are though.”

“No because it’s not just…” you stop short, “…Whatever, I’m going to sleep so be quiet.” He smiles at you like you’re completely endearing, which only frustrates you further.

“The only reason you would be this annoyed is because you want to kiss me again, or more…” his hand reaches for your chin and tilts your head up towards him, “You tell me, are you still curious?”

“Shut up,” you huff out, going to move away only for his hand to slide to your cheek, holding you still.

“You haven’t asked me, you know.”

“What?”

“What if I want to kiss you again? What if I want to do more?” His forehead rests against yours, “You’ve been so caught up in your own head, acting like an idiot over this, that you’ve not even asked yourself about what I want.”

“I am not an idiot.”

“No, but you’ve certainly been acting like one.” His hand slides from your face, down the side of your body, landing on your hip. “At first I thought it was cute, the curiosity, the unawareness,” his hand tugs you in closer to him, body against yours. “But now… now I’m growing impatient.”

Your head feels fuzzy, pressed up against him and that seems to be the only thing your brain is processing right now, “I’m confused.”

“It’s really quite simple,” he leans in, lips ghosting against yours.

You want so badly to kiss him, breath catching in your chest at the way his lips tickle against yours. Your attention solely on the way he might kiss you.

“You like me, and while it’s endearing to watch you fumble your way through the realisation, it’s killing me to know you’re all caught up on how I kissed you and not even being able to get in contact with you.”

“What? What?” Your brain takes a second to catch up, “I do not– you can’t know– just– what?”

“I can know, you know how? Because you’re painfully obvious about it. So honest, telling me about how you’re thinking of me, not able to look at me without looking at my lips,” a light laugh leaves him at your expression, “And it’s sweet, really. But I’m getting annoyed by the fact that you’re so obsessed with your own feelings that you’ve failed to consider mine.”

He’s giving you so much whiplash right now, “You–”

“–You think I kissed you like that just ‘cause?” He frowns at you, “I kissed you like that because I wanted to, I feel I was a little obvious about it all actually.”

“I’ve been so worried about ruining our friendship,” you feel so pathetic when you say it.

“I know,” he presses a kiss to your forehead, “But I’ve hoped for nothing more.” He sighs, “I wanted you to come to me on your own, to talk to me about it but instead you hid from me.”

“What was I supposed to think? Through my eyes, I was stupid and asked you to kiss me just because I was thinking about it, only to not stop thinking about it, and then realise I like you, my friend.” You pull back from him slightly, “How was I meant to talk to you about it?”

“You think I’d kiss just any friend because they simply wondered about what it would be like?” his brow lifts at you, “Don’t you think our friendship has always been a little too intimate to just be a friendship?”

“Nothing was ever said… how was I supposed to know?”

“Okay, well, let me be perfectly clear,” he tugs you in close again, eyes meeting yours, like he’s going to say something incredibly important, only to plant his lips on yours in a full kiss.

Hand holding you to him tight, like he needs you to stay pressed up against him. His mouth on yours hot and consuming, kiss messy, tongue licking at yours. An involuntary moan gets caught in your chest and your hand moves to his hair, tangling in it.

Parting to pant out, “I like you–” kissing you again, “I like kissing you–” lips desperate against yours, “I want to do so much more–” he never parts from you long at all, barley willing to but needing to get his words out.

This is a feeling that you’re never going to be able to forget, the first time he kissed you overwhelming enough and now it’s like he’s completely following his instinct. No critical thinking happening in his head or yours. All your thoughts wash away from you, slipping through your fingers before it even occurs to you to form a thought.

Less scared now, throwing caution to the wind, not worrying about how you should stop, how you can’t ruin the fragility of your friendship. It doesn’t matter anymore, not when he already knows how you feel, not when he seems to feel the same, not when it feels this good.

He mumbles against you, “That clear enough?”

“No,” you huff back, “I think… I’m still a little confused.”

“Well, in that case,” he smirks before kissing you again.

Hand moving to your thigh, sliding it across your skin before grabbing at your knee and crooking your leg to rest on his hip. Leaning into you slightly, using his weight to push back on you, rolling the pair of you until he’s on top. Forearm holding himself over you, other hand still on your knee, holding you flush to him.

You gasp up at him when his erection ruts into your core, lips parting messily, spit connecting the two of you. A shudder runs down his spine when he looks down at you, at how you’re looking up at him. All big, wet eyes and kiss swollen lips, it’s like he feels all his insides softening for you in that moment, in the most sickeningly affectionate way.

His eyes suddenly look lost, and you don’t know why, going to say something only for his lips to land on yours again. Short, firm kisses planted on your lips over and over again, barely able to return them before he’s pulling back, just to do it again.

It’s sweet but it’s frustrating you, your hands are eventually grabbing at either side of his face and forcing his mouth onto yours, lips meshing together, kissing him fully. Tongue in his mouth, your arms wrapping around his neck, fingers playing with his hair. He moans at how you’rekissing him, at how both your legs are now wrapped around his waist.

Practically clinging to him, lips locked to his, your need making your body hot and head fuzzy. You’re trying so hard to not come across desperate for him, but you really can’t help the way your hips seek out his, grinding up into him.

His voice shakes with a moan, breaking the kiss, “–Ohh fuck – hah –” a breathless kind of laugh leaving him, "A little eager, aren’t you?"

"Should we stop then?” You ask with a smile, hands untangling and pushing at his shoulders.

He rushes out, “No no, I didn’t say that,” he pulls your arms, so they’re wrapped around his neck again, “Come back,” a light laugh leaves him, pressing kisses all over your face, lingering on your lips.

“So… you don’t want to stop?”

“Absolutely not, be as needy as you want,” he looks down between where his hips are resting against yours, his cock twitching in his pants, “Hell… be needier.”

“I don’t know… maybe this is all happening too fast,” you say it light heartedly, teasing him, “I mean… we are just friends.”

“Just friends?” He takes personal issue with that, even if he can tell you’re goading him, “Just friends but you’re grinding your pussy all over me?” His hand slips into the front of your borrowed sleep shorts, two fingers rubbing between your folds over your panties.

Gasp leaving you, chest stuttering, “S-Suguru, I–”

“Letting your friend touch you like this, hmm?” He pulls your panties to the side, “Fuck– this wet for your friend?”

Your back arches against the bed when his fingers slip over your clit, struggling to get your words out, “I– mmph– I get it, m’sorry.”

“Sorry for what?” He smiles sweetly at you but two of his fingers are slipping inside you, quirking up and rubbing at just the right spot.

God, your eyes roll into the back of your head, cunt pulsing around his fingers so needily. Hands grabbing at him, tangling in his long hair, gasping for air you don’t really need but feeling like you can’t breathe from how he’s touching you.

“What are you sorry for, pretty?” He wants you back on track, he wants to hear you stumble out your apology to him.

“I-I’m sorry – hnnn – f-for…” your mouth drops open in a moan when his thumb rubs at your clit, “You’re not jus– you’re not just my friend – oh! You’re more– you mean more– Ah! Ah!” You can’t think, not when he adds another finger to your pussy, stretching you so open.

He leans in, fingers not stopping, “You mean it?”

It’s a question made to tease you but with your gooey brain, you look up at him so earnestly and answer, “Mhm, yeah.” Nodding your head firmly at him, even when your eyes look so fucked out.

Soft squelching noises fill the room with how his fingers fuck into you, your cunt clamping tight down around them. Walls so hot and wet that it’s driving him crazy, imagining how it would feel to have you wrapped so snug around his neglected cock.

He wants so badly to rip off your pants, so he can see just how well you’re taking his fingers but you’re pulsing so rhythmically around him, and your eyes roll with how good you feel, making the nicest expressions for him that he can’t even tear his eyes away from your face if he wanted to.

“Oh, you’re really cute right now,” he leans in and presses a kiss to your cheek, his heart stammering at how your wet eyes sparkle at him, at how your bottom lip wobbles.

Pouting up at him, “You don’t– ah! think– think I’m cute all the time?”

“I think you’re downright adorable all the time,” he laughs airily, “But especially right now,” he’s gazing so intently at your face, “Because, I’m pretty sure…” his thumb speeds up on your clit, “…You’re about to cum all over my fingers.”

Oh, how his words effect you so deeply, his tone, the cockiness and if he weren’t touching you so right you wouldn’t find it as arousing as you do but you feel like you could cry from just how overwhelming it all is.

Shaking your head at him as if to say ‘no, you’re not about to cum.’  

“No?” He pouts at you mockingly, “You sure?”

Denying it really doesn’t get you anywhere, especially since he can feel how you tighten around his fingers, how your gooey cunt pulses for him. Your back arching meanly, legs wanting so badly to kick against the air. Hand tugging at his hair as you gasp, broken moans leaving you.

“I mustn’t be doing this right then,” he hums at you in thought, slowing his movements slightly, “Should I stop then? Change up what I’m doing?”

The thought of him stopping now, or changing what he’s doing kills you, almost literally. Your eyes widen and you shake your head vehemently at him, “Don’t stop– hnn– don’t– please,” begging him with your eyes.

“Only ‘cause you begged so nicely,” his tone so sweet on you.

He doesn’t change anything, keeps fucking you with his fingers in the way that’s driving you crazy. His mouth waters at how your pussy gushes for him, dick leaking into his pants, losing his fucking mind at how he’s able to finally touch you like this, how you’re letting him touch you like this, even begging for it.

Muscles pulling taut, hearing and sight going fuzzy, “I– ohh– Sugu I can’t– I’m gonna–”

“You can,” dragging it out in a singsong, “Doing so well for me, pretty.”

Biting on your lip to hold back all the moans tumbling from them, hands pulling at him as you struggle to breathe through it. Chest stuttering as your cunt clamps down around his fingers, pulling him closer to you and planting your lips on his, desperately kissing him as you cum all over his fingers. Tongue licking into his mouth, his own moans spilling into the kiss.

Panting against your open mouth to say, “Just came all over your friends’ fingers,” his smile taunting and bright.

Your head lolls to the side, “So you really do just like teasing me, huh?”

“Pretty sure I said I couldn’t help it,” his fingers slip from your core, sucking them into his mouth, licking them clean in a display so obscene that your skin feels warm.

If he were a lesser man, he’d cum from licking himself clean, groaning around his fingers, mostly for himself but also somewhat to embarrass you. Loving how you squirm, and your face pulls up in embarrassment. All dazed and stupid looking from your orgasm, it makes his heart skip and his dick jerk.

You shock him when you tug your shirt up and over your head, moving to pull at his but he’s too distracted by your tits to make any move other than to lean down and press wet kisses all over your chest.

“Suguru– hah– your shirt,” your fingers still pull at the fabric.

“You can’t–” he sucks and licks at your nipple, relishing in the reactions and sounds he’s pulling from you, “–You can’t show me your tits and expect me to not touch them.”

When he looks up at you, his eyes are lazy and dazed, his tongue drooling all over your boobs. Moving to plant more firm and wet kisses all over your unbelievably soft skin, sucking to leave behind his mark. Wanting to leave behind marks that he will see when he wakes up tomorrow, marks that he will leave marks over so that they never go away, so he will always have evidence of how he touched you. Of how you let him touch you.

Groping at all your exposed skin, pulling at you, fingers tugging at your nipple, while he salivates all over the other one. Your legs tug his hips down into yours, rubbing your clothed cunt all over him, wanting him to fuck you so badly. He’s working you up so unfairly, already making you cum and then playing with your tits in a way that has you itching to be full of his dick.

“Suguru,” he ruts his hips back down into you but doesn’t remove his mouth from you, so you pull at his hair harshly, “Please.”

He moans at how you pull at him, eyes lidded, “So demanding.”

“You’re taking too long.”

He tuts at you, nipping lightly at the skin between your tits, “You’re just impatient.”

“Yeah, I am,” untangling your legs from him, you shuffle your shorts and panties down and off your body, “Are you going to help?”

“How can I refuse when you ask like that?” The desire to lick at your pussy, make out with your cunt, is huge but with how you look at him, so needy and impatient, he needs to shove his dick in you. Now.

When you go to tug at his shirt, he lets you, letting you pull it off him completely, goose bumps breaking out across his skin with how you rake your nails delicately over him. The affection he holds for you feels like it grows tenfold at how you look at him, how tenderly you touch him.

“You’re so pretty,” you’re mumbling it out at him before you’re really registering that you’ve thought it, let alone spoke it.

His head drops into the crook of your neck, “So sweet on me, got me forgetting why I waited so long to say anything.”

You grin at him, “Because you’re stupid.”

“Oh, that’s right,” he sneers back at you before shuffling back to pull his pants off. Finding immense joy in how your smug little smile drops from your face when his cock is free, tip flushed a pretty pink and leaking profusely, precum dribbling down the sides of his dick.

Moving to get up before even really thinking about it, wanting to touch him. Only to fall into the pillows when his large hand pushes you back by your sternum. Looking to him just as he leans in, lips brushing yours so softly you’d think you’d imagined it if he didn’t immediately follow it up with a firm kiss.

“I want to touch you,” hands already finding their way back to his shoulders, his long hair tickling against skin.

His head is dipping low to watch how he moves his hands down your body, brushing against your inner thighs, opening your legs for him more, “Well, I want to fuck you.” He’s not capable of taking his eyes off your gooey cunt, so wet for him.

Goading him with your words, “What are you waiting for? A formal invitation?”

“Sharp tongue for someone so sensitive,” he muses, fingers slipping through your folds, gently over your clit to make you jolt, as if to prove his point.

Not giving you a chance to say another snarky comment, his fingers dipping into your hole again, fingers stretching you open obscenely, pulling back covered in cum from your previous orgasm and fresh slick. It’s almost embarrassing how soaked you are, at least it would be if he didn’t seem almost overjoyed at the sight.

His hand covered in your mess moves to his dick, stroking himself, lubing himself so you can take him easier. Wanting to rub your thighs together, to squirm at how he languidly pumps at his cock, how his brows upturn and his mouth gapes slightly.

Palm warm against your inner thigh, holding you still, moving so he can tap his dick against your clit, smiling at how your body jerks.

“Don’t be a tease,” your hand moves for his, but he grabs at you before you reach him, looping his fingers with yours.

His tone is cheerful and bright, “But you look so cute when you’re frustrated.”

“I’ll leave,” you threaten, not even a little convincingly, way too horny to be taken seriously.

“Really?” He raises a brow at you, intrigued, “I don’t think you’d get very far,” mocking pout settling on his features.

Nothing if not stubborn and true to your word, you push him back and roll to get out of the bed defiantly. Barely making it to the edge of the mattress when his hands are on your sides and manhandling you back into your previous position. Spreading your legs wide and rubbing the tip of his cock through your folds, just dipping into your hole before repeating the previous movements.

Biting his lower lip as he watches, his precum smearing all over your messy cunt, “Told you, you wouldn’t get very far.”

Your head rolls at how he dips his dick in more, beginning to stretch you open, his hips stuttering forwards, hand slapping down onto the bed beside you to stop himself from pushing you too far.

“Oh– oh– fuck! How­– h-how are you this tight, oh,” breathless not even beginning to describe how fucked out he already sounds.

“M-more, Sugu, please– I–”

At your insistence, he fucks himself all the way in, holding his hips to yours as he fills you to the hilt. Your pussy spasming and creaming around him, so worked up that he can feel just how aroused you are in the way you twitch, at how your fingers grab at his skin, how your breath is uneven and broken.

He can’t help but marvel at how you let out little squealed moans, how your cunt stretches to take all of him. On cloud nine at how you’re so horny over how heavy he’s sitting inside you that you’re close to tears.

The moan he lets out is debauched, unbelievably turned on when your hips struggle to grind down into him needily, working yourself up to an orgasm so fucking fast that he can’t do anything but watch in awe.

You can’t stop yourself, you know you should, should slow down and maybe calm down but it feels so good. He’s so big inside you, his cock pulsing in a way that has you memorising the thumping rhythm. Not usually so eager, never this eager, enthusiastically rutting down into him over and over again before suddenly cumming all over him.

Choked and gasped moans pulled from you as your hands reach for him, hoping for him to let you tug him down into you but he’s too busy watching how you pulse and cum all over him. Obsessed with how your cute, little cunt struggles with his size as you coat him in all your creamy cum.

“Holy fuck,” he laughs, “That was–”

Head dizzy and eyes lazy as you whinge at him, “–Don’t– don’t say anything.”

“You came as soon as I got inside you and you expect me to make no comment?”

“It’s embarrassing.”

“I think it was adorable,” he hums, voice strained, much more effected by it than he’s willing to let on.

You whine when he leans down into you, cock somehow reaching deeper. Geto’s arms cage you in either side your head, resting on his forearms, his lips against yours in a breathless kiss. Beginning shallow thrusts, his lips insistent on yours, fucking you so carefully for now.

Quickly, the need to have him fucking you stupid grows within you again and your legs loop around him properly, pulling him into you, wrapping yourself around him, mouth panting against his.

“Fuck– hah– you’re so wet,” he’s fucking into you faster, hips becoming desperate, “It’s actually– it’s– hnn– it’s crazy how good you feel,” he moves his head to the crook of your neck, growling beside your ear, “such a soaked little cunt, taking it so– ohh– taking it so good.”

“Ah! Ah! Sugu, it’s– ohh– it’s– more– I need more,” your fingers dig into his back, depraved wet sloshing sounds of him fucking into you so well fill the room.

He nips at your neck, “Demanding little thing aren’t you?”

He’s pulling out of you and the moan you let out is small and pathetic, disgruntled by his abrupt movement. The last thing you see is his smug grin before he’s flipping you over onto your stomach, hands pulling your hips up and pushing on your upper back, manoeuvring your body into an obscene arch.

Taking his sweet time to slip back inside, eyeing up your pussy and how your hole trembles and drools for him. Your hips wriggle back at him and he finds himself incredibly amused at how blatantly needy you are, apparently honest with him in more ways than one.

Just as you were about to turn around and complain at how long he’s taking to re-enter you, he’s shoving his cock back in all at once, jolting your body up the bed and forcing a moan out from your lungs.

“Ohh– Sugu– I…” you trail off as his hips pick up, eyes rolling to the back of your head.

Sliding your legs further apart to take more of him inside, arching yourself even more, greedy cunt sucking him deep inside. He’s barely able to withdraw before you’re fucking your hips back into him, desperately driving back, so fucking needy that if you had half your mind you’d be embarrassed but right now all you can think about is how his dick thumps against your walls, how his hands grip onto you tight, probably leaving behind marks to match the ones he left all over your tits.

Mouth gaping open, spit pooling onto the pillow below, drooling over his cock, God, you could cry from just how fucking good it feels. Pussy spasming wildly around him, the more you think about the fact that he’s fucking you, the more worked up you get. Insides flipping at how he seems to touch the most perfect spots inside you, full of butterflies and him.

His mouth by your ear shocks you, his voice chirpy, “What are you – hah – thinking about, pretty?”

“A-about how goo– good it feels, feels– ohh– feels so good, Sugu,” your words are slurred, mind reeling at how he doesn’t even seem to slow his pace.

“Flatterer,” he barks out a laugh, “You’re quite the little charmer,” he mockingly compliments, tongue licking meanly at your salty tears that you hadn’t realised you’d shed.

“Shh– shut up– ah!” gasping when he gives a particularly mean thrust into you.

He can’t help but smile at the fucked out look you’re wearing, eyes rolled back, dazed and not comprehending anything other than his dick rubbing up against your walls so perfectly. Your face turns into the pillow and you bite at it, muscles pulling tight as another orgasm crawls up your spine.

It shocks you, how quickly you cum, Suguru’s harsh thrusts, your ass burning with the smack of his pelvis against you. The sting biting at your flesh making you feel like you’re on fire, cunt tight around him and orgasm overcoming you so fast that you don’t have time to prepare for it.

And maybe if he hadn’t been caught up in how deliciously you squeeze around him, he’d have time to realise you were coming again and he could stop himself but when you shock the both of you with your sudden orgasm he whines into your back and cums deep inside you. Shivers running down his spine at how it feels, dumping so much deep inside you that the force of his continued thrusts has some of it leaking from you back onto him and down onto the bed, making the obscenest mess he’s ever seen.

Immediately he’s pulling himself back up to see how he’s coated your walls white, his dick covered in your shared cum, creamy and lewd and he’s not even going soft because how could he when you’re still wrapped so warmly around him and when you’re so fucking gooey and snug. He might die before he’s done fucking you yet and he can’t even find it in himself to care even a little bit.

You’re not capable of forming words together enough to think of making a sentence, only thing coming from you being your garbled, choked moans and the sounds of your plushy cunt struggling to take him and all his cum. Pussy bulging with the weight of his cock and the mass amounts of seed he’s just pumped you full of.

His own eyes are lidded and low, pussy drunk and loving every second of it, “So turned on you couldn’t even warn me before you came,” he bites out.

His hand rounds your body and his fingers land on your clit, the overstimulation too much, one of your own hands moving down to try and pry it away, managing to squeak out, “T-too much– ah! Too much, Sugu.”

Tone light when his harsh words are mumbled back at you, “If it’s too much, then why – hnn – why are you fucking back onto me like such a slut?”

He’s so mean, so mean to you while he fucks you so… meanly. Head whirling over how he speaks to you, not even able to think long before he slaps your clit harshly and your knees buckle, falling into the mattress under him. His dick slipping from you as you collapse into the mattress.

Geto doesn’t pick you back up straight away, oh no, because you’re leaking all of his cum out of your little hole onto the bed and he can’t take his eyes off of how much cum he managed to get inside you. It’s you who picks your hips up lazily, presenting yourself for him.

He chuckles at your loyalty to his cock, but he also can’t help the way the sight makes him twitch. Shoving his dick into you again, feral in his pursuit to fuck you, to fuck you full of more of his cum.

“S-so devoted– hnnn– doing such­– hah– a good job for me, pretty,” he slurs.

You feel like you might pass out, so lightheaded but meeting each and every one of his thrusts all the same. An arm wrapping around your front pulls your back to his chest, both his hands landing on your tits, fingers pinching and rolling your nipples, making your pussy shudder around him.

You want to fuck your hips back recklessly but not able to with this angle, only able to arch further and give shallow grinds while he fucks his hips into you. He plants kisses and bites along your neck, nipping your skin hard enough that you twitch and whine each time he does it.

One hand leaves your tit and trails down your front, going for your cunt, spreading wide around where he’s stuffing you full continuously. Getting an absolute mess all over his hand and fingers, only to shove those fingers into your mouth, leaving you to lick him clean. Crammed full by his dick and fingers at once, convulsing around him at the thought of it, at the reality of it.

“You like being stuffed full, huh?” He muses to you, an evil kind of joy in his tone. You don’t get to choose your own response, he’s already using the fingers he has in your mouth to nod your head yes, “Ah, thought so.”

Pulling his fingers from your mouth slowly to watch how you suck on them as he does, before he’s wiping all your spit down your chest to your tummy. And then he has another hand on the back of your neck and is pushing you down into the pillows again, this time he keeps his hand there while he fucks into you diabolically.

Somehow faster than before, relentless, reaching his own end and wanting you to cum all over him at least once more. Head dipping back as he groans out, thrusts harsh and calculated, hitting all the spots he’s just learnt about, having memorised just how to make you fucking squirm for him.

Which he succeeds in, if he didn’t have the hand on the back of your neck, you would’ve crawled up the bed to try and get away from his evil thrusts. Poor abused pussy creaming around him for the fourth time, orgasm blinding you, only seeing white spots behind your eyelids.

The sounds he lets out are wrecked and beautiful and have you wishing that you weren’t cumming so violently if only to see the way he’s spilling inside you for the second time tonight.

“That’s it– fuck– take it– taking it so fucking well– holy fuck–” every word he utters is breathless and broken, essentially fucking himself stupid too.

Taking a moment for himself to catch his breath before he’s slipping from you and pulling your ass cheeks apart to watch how his cum dribbles from your overfilled cunt. You try to wiggle away but he holds you steady, eyes trained on your dipping hole, overcome with the desire to fuck his tongue inside you but instead settling for shoving two fingers inside, plugging your hole to keep his cum in.

You whine at him, and he can only chuckle and find you incredibly cute in your post orgasm bliss. Barely able to keep your eyes open, let alone speak right now.

He does eventually pull his fingers from you, wiping the mess on your thighs before turning you onto your back. It feels like you’re looking up at an angel as he looks down at you, or maybe the devil, all flush and sweet smiles, too sweet for a man that just fucked you within an inch of your life.

“Y-you can’t smile at me like that, not after you almost killed me,” you babble back at him.

He rolls his eyes at you, “There you go overreacting again.”

“You fuck so mean, Sugu,” you accuse… accurately.

A smile grows on his face again, “Feels real good though, doesn’t it?”

You weakly slap at him, he just grabs your hand and tugs your body into his kneeling form, hugging you to him. Pressing kisses all over your face, “Think you can stand long enough to shower?”

Shaking your head at him, “Not without fainting.”

“Alright, bath it is,” he concludes.

He takes such nice care of you afterwards, a complete contrast to how he fucked you. It’s lovely though, the hands that grabbed and pulled at you now delicate as they trace over your skin, washing you clean.  

You rest with your back to his front in the bath, head laying lazily on his chest, “So… for the sake of clarity, we’re not just friends?”

His lips tickle against the tip of your ear, “I can fuck you all over again if you need more proof?”

“I fear you might actually kill me.”

“Then I guess you’ll just have to take my word for it,” he presses a single kiss against your cheek.

In the morning, for the first time ever, he makes you breakfast, to make up for all the marks he’s littered your body with. He also officially asks you on a date, which you pretend to think really hard about even though you’d already decided you were going to say yes.

In the end, being friends with Geto Suguru wasn’t hard… it’s just not what you both wanted.

𝐀/𝐍: this was a while in the making and the vibes of it changed so many times throughout 😭 it was supposed to be situationship but i fear i'm not well versed enough in what exactly one is to write about it properly.... anyways ! i hope you enjoyed regardless and thank you for reading !!! <3

[⚠︎] — 𝐖𝐀𝐑𝐍𝐈𝐍𝐆: do not reupload / repost / translate / plagiarise my works © all works are the intellectual property of unheavenlyvision

[fairlyang]

Sharing ⚔️🐺

w/c: 2.4K

pairing: logan howlett x wade wilson x f!reader

tags: 18+ smut. mmf threesome, pure filth, jealousy, cunnilingus, blowjob, fingering, throating fucking, wade being wade, finger sucking, logan fucks you, unprotected sex (don’t do this!), creampie, cum slurping (??)

a/n: this is my first fic for both characters! watched all the x-men bc of my second rewatch of dp&w and i’m in love w that old man. also this took me a week to write 🧍‍♀️

you didn’t know how but you somehow were able to get both wade and logan into bed with you.

a dream come true but the downside was the fact they were both acting all territorial and not at all wanting to pull away from you.

when you first started they both wanted to make out with you and you had to switch off quickly before the bickering began. though having them each suck one breast was enough for a short while. 

but now logan was devouring your pussy like the starved man he was and although wade let him have a turn first, he grew impatient fast. very fast.

unfortunately his unmedicated adhd was of no help to him and if anything just made things even worse for him.

now he didn't believe in the saying "save the best for last" because he was aching to taste you. he was so fucking hard, he swore it was more painful than having blue balls. 

finally, after enjoying the show for a solid three minutes, he groaned and shook logan's shoulder to get his attention. "don't be so fucking stingy old man, give me a turn." wade complained and groaned some more.

logan ignored him and kept his eyes on you, sucking on your clit while he teased your entrance with the tip of his finger making you whine. he moaned against you sending shivers all throughout your body meanwhile wade was all pouts and damn near stomping his feet. 

logan continued ignoring him because if he was one thing, it was stubborn. 

on the other hand, wade was relentless and wasn’t going to give up so easily, and luckily he knew how to push logan’s buttons. 

“come on grandpa, I know you’ll get tired soon enough anyway, just tap out.” wade pestered, earning himself a low growl from the older man.

you could only giggle at wade’s reaction, finding his eagerness to be cute and in a way, needy.

logan on the other hand rolled his eyes and wanted to stab him with his claws somewhere it’d take a while to regenerate just to have more time with his head buried between your thighs, but he opted against it. he didn’t want to ruin your bed with his blood. 

"you both said you'd be fine with sharing.." you say and point a finger at them both.

logan looked up at you and you gave him a look, earning yourself an eye roll. he pulled away and groaned, wiping your arousal from his face with the back of his hand before he stands up so wade could take his rightful seat between your legs. "better do it right, bub." 

"you bet your ass i'm gonna do it right, just look at this beauty." he says and lets out a little whistle before admiring how you were glistening already.

all wet and ready for him.

"yeah you're gonna have to surgically remove me from this perfect fucking pussy." he murmurs then dives right in while logan comes up at you and curses at him.

you playfully rolled your eyes at him and put your hand on his cheek before pulling him in for a kiss. he immediately kissed back and didn't waste a singular second to slide his tongue into your mouth. 

that’s when wade decided to pull your legs up and keep them steady while he lapped at your folds, making you moan in logan’s mouth. he groaned back and let his hands wander over your body, squeezing your tits, hips, everything he could get his hands on. 

your hands traced along his pecs, collarbones, then slowly going down as he deepens the kiss — electricity surging through your body, and the overall feeling of warmness radiating off each other was palpable. 

you pull away from him so you can see his belt so you can quickly take it off. he took his shirt off while you took the belt off and unbottoned his pants. he sat up and you tried to take his pants off with haste but it seemed wade also wanted your attention on him as he slipped a finger inside you making you gasp. 

logan rolled his eyes, letting out a growl as he took his own pants off and throwing them on the floor. he sat up, knees on the bed and spread wide as he grabbed your attention by clicking his tongue, “focus over here, princess.” 

it easily got your attention, like a moth to a flame. too easy. 

you leaned up and started stroking him through his boxers, he closed his eyes and moaned. you smiled and with one quick movement slid his boxers down making his cock spring up and hit his stomach. 

you looked at it speechless and nearly drooling. it was the perfect amount of thick and long, precum leaking down the tip and a solid vein on the side. you tried to sit up a bit but wade’s grip on your legs wasn’t budging so you just began to stroke him. 

he leaned down a bit — his eyes back on you — and it was just enough to kiss his tip so you did before tasting the precum and licking it from your lips making him groan. the sight was as good as he imagined it, hell even fucking better. 

"fuck-" he moaned and put a hand on your head, urging you to do something.

wade looks up at you then at logan with his eyes rolled to the back of his head and you're just giving him kitten licks. he pulls away from your clit to let out a chuckle then speaks directly at you as he slowly fingers you, "don't tease the old man, baby. we gotta respect our elders."

you looked down at him then nodded — turning your attention back to logan's cock. wade's grip loosened just a tad bit so you could move your body up to try to take his cock in your mouth. you opened wide and slap it on your tongue, not being able to help the urge to tease him anyway.

logan grunted and thrusted his hips forward, "come on bub i'm dying over here." he groaned making you chuckle.

"patience is a virtue." you tease, looking up at him through your eyelashes.

he groans and shakes his head before holding your head still and makes you take the tip inside your mouth. you moan against him and immediately take more of him in your mouth while stroking his shaft. "you know that's not my strong suit, bub."

“and never will be peanut.” wade snickers and slips a second finger inside you. 

you moan against logan’s cock and slowly bob your head back and forth while wade tries to match your pace. you quickly notice what he’s trying to do and try to fit more of logan in your mouth but he was just so thick. 

he slowly began to thrust his hips forward, making you take it so you just relaxed and let him. you breathed through your nose and brought a hand down to hold one of wade’s. he grabbed it softly and gave it a squeeze while he continued fucking you, a bit faster now. 

you reached your other hand up to logan and he grabbed it, rubbing his thumb against your skin while your name slipped out of his lips like a prayer, because he just can’t help it.

your mouth felt so good, so heavenly. he knew this should’ve been done sooner but better late than never.

you closed your eyes and slowly laid your head down on the mattress so he could do the work, you turned your head more to the side and he started going faster. meanwhile wade added a third finger and was matching logan’s pace while he looked at the view with pure lust in his eyes. 

“doing so good pumpkin, treating our old man how he deserves huh?” wade purrs making you clench against his fingers. 

wade went back to your clit and started sucking then alternating to flicking it with his tongue. you were letting out muffled moans but they were just overpowered by logan’s. he looked down at you and moaned, “atta girl, just like that baby. takin’ it so good.” 

“put that mouth to good use peanut, she’s been so sassy with us recently.” wade chimes in making logan chuckle. 

“she has, hasn’t she?” he groans and slows down but starts going deeper. 

wade matches that as well and that’s when he takes full notice on how your juices were dripping down his fingers, “jesus it’s like niagara falls down here except i could drink this up for the rest of my life.” 

logan smirks and finally stops, sliding himself off so you can breathe. you take a deep a breath and wade slips his fingers out of you as well making you whine. he gasps and points a finger at logan, “what kind of sorcery is this?!?!!”

“i want a taste.” he mutters and wade sticks his fingers out earning himself a loud growl. 

you roll your eyes and sit up, reaching for his arm before opening your mouth and taking all his fingers in your mouth — tasting yourself while you made eye contact with him. 

after tasting all your juices, you pull his hand away with a plop then turn to logan and grab his arm to pull him down before pulling him in for a kiss. you stuck your tongue inside his mouth and before you knew it he started kissing back, able to taste how sweet you are. 

you pulled away and laid back down, looking at them both before they exchanged looks, “move over wilson, it’s my turn.” he responds and climbs off the bed. 

wade climbs on top of the bed and takes logan’s previous position because he did say he would try his best to share. he never liked sharing any of his toys but with you, it might be different. 

unfortunately logan was a fucking liar, and as much as he loved tasting you, he needed to be inside you even more. 

he spread your legs and positioned himself to your entrance, teasing you with just the tip while you licked wade’s wet tip. “thanks for warming her up for me, bub.” he says, giving wade a sly wink then sliding inside you with ease. 

your walls clamped against him, and you couldn’t help the whimpers that came out. he made himself fit and just slid all the way in, to take in how you feel. 

you were so tight, squeezing him to absolute perfection he could’ve sworn he was seeing stars. 

you were about to take wade into your head when he shook his head and grabbed your hand, bringing it to his cock, “your mouth can take a small break, cupcake.” 

you grinned up at him and began to stroke him, he was also thick like logan. now you were just confused how the hell you didn’t think of doing this sooner. 

logan was now slowly starting to fuck into you, just wanting to be as deep as he can be because you just molded onto his cock like a missing puzzle piece. he held onto the back of your thighs and leaned down a little, thrusting back and forth while he held eye contact with you. 

you were already teary eyed, looking so fucked out, in bliss. your eyes were fluttering and you could’ve sworn you were dreaming. “how’s that cock feel baby?” wade asked and you just moaned. 

he grinned and just watched how you took logan, how your body was reacting to his and how he swore he could cum a whole ocean just from watching. 

logan began going faster, having a similar reaction to wade. you looked so fucking pretty taking him, and trying your best to stroke wade. so fucking perfect. 

“bet you’re close huh, gramps?” wade cuts his thoughts and he could only grunt. “can’t even blame you really… not at all actually. but we gotta make sure our girl finishes too.” he adds and that he could agree with. 

you bring your unoccupied hand down to start rubbing your clit and instantly feel that familiar feeling in your lower belly. “gonna cum for us, baby?” wade purrs and you just nod while letting out mixed moans with both of their names. 

“that’s my good girl.” logan murmurs, making you whimper. 

“our good girl.” wade corrects making logan chuckle. 

“our good girl.” logan grunts, earning himself some desperate little cries from you.

your legs began to shake and you continued stroking wade, going as fast as you could. within seconds you could feel him twitching and logan’s thrusts started to become sloppy. “please cum inside me.”  you murmur making both men groan. 

with one final thrust, logan released his load deep inside you, your orgasm hit you hard — making you a shaking mess and a mix of moans and cries leaving your lips. meanwhile wade was groaning and spilling his load all over you, some made it to your mouth and some even down to your belly. 

the room was filled with loud breaths and the strong smell of sex that just intoxicated logan’s nostrils. he caught his breath and looked down at you, eyes fluttering and a cute little smile on your face. 

he slowly brought your legs down, letting them rest on the soft mattress before slowly sliding out of you. you calmed your breathing down and let go of wade’s dick. when you felt logan’s dick slip out, you instantly felt his load come out and drip down to your asshole. 

as if a physical light bulb lit up above wade’s head, he quickly got off the bed, and went between your legs and not hesitating for one second to slurp up absolutely every drop of the mixed fluids. 

you and logan both looked at him with shocked looks on your faces, absolutely stunned. 

he didn’t pull away until you were absolutely clean and no remnants were to be seen. he finally looked up at you both and just shrugged, “when else would i get the chance?” 

“we could always do it again?” you offer and shrug, trying to be nonchalant as if your brain isn’t already filled with more ideas. 

“do i smell a part two?” wade asks, raising an eyebrow before getting up just to lay next to you while logan did the same. 

maybe sharing wouldn’t be the end of the world.

[dex0s]

—♡DOUMA X MALE READER WARNING: smut, non-con, cannibalism?, douma, reader having a huge chest, thoracic area called boobs/tits, daddy kink, face sitting, breeding kink, semi-public?, incest?, cliffhanger ending (only because I’m lazy), not proof read

A/N— okay I know I was gone for like 2 months but um— yeah

You were a member of his cult and your older sister got sick to the point she had to stay in bed instead of praying to your demon lord. For the past couple days you had been asking your lord to heal your sister. And at first DOUMA was uninterested or just ignored you but then he got a full look at you. (H/c) hair, beautiful bright (e/c) eyes, nice face, well shaped body, and lastly YOUR CHEST. Oh and how he was so in love.

“Oh look a new play thing. Just. For. Me~ and ONLY me~”

After that you notice changes. One, Douma would ONLY look at you if you in the room but the moment you leave his face becomes disinterested (even if he doesn’t have emotions he feels like his life just decrease by a life time). Two, you ALWAYS feel like you’re being watched no matter what you doing or where you are, there are always RAINBOW EYES watching. And three, when you go and pray to your lord you can notice the lust in his eyes like a predator eyeing their next meal.

“I can’t believe I haven’t noticed you sooner… I wonder if that man will let me keep you~ who know maybe I will quit bugging him~”

Knowing damn well that man can hear him

One time you went to douma and asked for his blessing so your sister could get better and by pure coincidence your sister gotten better and could move around better then before. You thanked douma for the blessing but even tho it was a complete coincidence douma wanted more than just a thanks. He gave you his blessing and healed your sister. He wants more and he will get want he wants whether you want it or not .

HaAh~ Oh you tastes Sooo~ good~ Your so good—Fuck! for daddy~

Grinding your hips into the pillow while Douma is thrusting in and out your ass. “Ahh~ you look like dog when you do that~” Douma said, moving his hand up your body and stopping at your chest. “W-wait~AH!” Slamming his cock back in he starts to grope your chest. “Hmm! What a— good boy you are, so good— for daddy” you start to feel yourself about to release and you try to warn your lord but all that came out was babbles. Douma seem to notice this and started to go even harder on you hearing your gummy walls take him in and out and all the noise you were making made him even more hard then white sticky cum came out your dick but that didn’t stop Douma in fact he decided to switch it up a lot bit.

He lifts you over his face, your legs are shaking then slams you down on his face. Taking his long slimy tongue starting with kitty licks, suddenly roughly gripping your thighs and full on eating your ass like there’s no tomorrow. When the door opens (you didn’t even notice at first) it reveals your sister. Your sister was in shock, she didn’t know you had a side like this. Hearing your moans and the licks your sister can feel a wet spot in her undergarment. While your sister was standing there Douma could smell her wetness and started to get upset.

“Why is she here.”

“She needs to leave can’t she see I’m playing with my plaything.”

“It’s her fault he’s in this situation”

“She shouldn’t be so selfish and get sick”

“You know what… It’s show time”

Taking out his tongue from your ass, he moves you to his lap. Picking you up with your legs wrapped around his waist Douma starts to walk to your sister. “You know it’s rude to stare” using one of his free hands and roughly grabbing your sister’s chin forcing her to look at his rainbow eyes. “W-what are you doing to my brother!” Yelled out your sister that was trying to force Douma’s hand off of her and trying to reach for you, when Douma grabs the hand that was reaching for you and pulling it off her body. Finally snapping out the trance you hear a bloody cuddling scream. Turning your head around to see your sister on the ground clutching her shoulder but before you can say anything you were placed on the ground on all fours in front of your sister.

“Why don’t we put a show on for your sister~ hmm dear~”

[dark-fics-4-you]

In the Night

dark!Ghostface!stepbro!Rafe x f!Reader w a side of JJ x Reader

READ ENTIRE WARNING BEFORE PROCEEDING

Warnings: noncon (rape), incest (step siblings), murder, major character death, p in v smut, lowkey yandere themes, knife kink, blood kink, unprotected sex, creampie, Rafe is very obsessed with his little step sister (everyone is 18+)

You cowered behind the car, trying to quiet your shivering sobs. Your mind was racing, barely able to hold onto any thought other than the ghastly scene you had just been forced into.

For months, a masked killer had been terrorizing Kildare and tonight you came face to face with him.

Only to realize that you had been living with him for half of your life.

For the most part, it had been a night like any other, JJ had taken you out on a little dinner date before bringing you back to his house.

You had been dating for several months at this point, a fact that your stepfather, Ward, begrudgingly accepted, but your stepbrother seemed to harbor more resentment towards him than any of the other Pogues.

Just before you had left, Rafe had gotten into yet another argument with you about him, although he had never been so aggressive with you about it before.

“He’s not good enough for you, Y/N! You know he’s just going to get you into trouble.” Your older step brother scolded you.

“Maybe he’d stay out of trouble if you and your gang didn’t bring it to him all the time,” you sniped back, pushing past him to get to the door.

You were interrupted when his hand clamped down hard around your arm just above your elbow, stopping you in your tracks.

“Are you seriously trying to walk away from me right now?” Rafe growled as he turned to you, his hold still tight on your arm.

“Yeah, I am, JJ is out front waiting for me. Now let go of me, Rafe.”

He stared down at you, a familiar yet unrecognizable glint in his blue eyes. He scanned your face for a moment, tension heavy in the air, before finally reluctantly releasing your arm with a huff.

“Just uh… stay safe, okay, Y/N? You know how dangerous it’s been recently.” You could have sworn you saw a small smirk on his face before you turned to exit.

When you and JJ got back to his place after dinner, the two of you had just gotten out of the car when you heard him yell.

You turned to see a large figure wearing the same ghost face mask you had seen all over the news holding your boyfriend at knifepoint, the blade pressed into his throat.

JJ struggled against him for a moment, but he flinched when the man dug the sharp metal in just a bit.

“Stop fighting, or she dies next.” The man hissed, his familiar voice stopping you in your tracks as you raced around the car to them.

You were several feet away from them but too petrified to move.

“Stop!” You cried out, tears burning at your eyes. You felt terrified and helpless, unable to take your gaze off of your boyfriend.

The masked man ignored you, continuing to speak to JJ, “you don’t deserve Y/N, you know? She’s too good to be with a filthy Pogue like you.”

His words washed over you like a bucket of cold water as you finally recognized his voice and you wanted to be sick.

Your lips parted to beg with him, don't do this, please, don't hurt him don't hurt him!

At the flinch of his wrist, it was too late. You knew it. The blade glinted as it slid across JJ's neck, and you finally found your voice as a cascade of crimson followed its arc and JJ fell to ground.

You screamed as you felt the air get knocked out of your lungs. You wanted to collapse, and you probably would have if not for the sound of the killer’s horribly recognizable laughter drawing closer.

In the darkness, you turned, stumbling to the ground painfully before picking yourself up again and running before crouching behind the car JJ had been fixing up.

The chilly autumn air made you shiver and your vision was blurred by your tears.

You still hadn’t gotten over your shock when you heard your name being called.

“Y/N,” he taunted, voice getting closer with each step.

Your heart was thundering in your ears so loudly you were scared he could hear it.

“Just come out now and I promise, I won’t hurt you.” He was on the other side of the car now and you felt your stomach clench in terror.

Your eyes widened when he walked around the car, easily spotting you crouched near the back door.

When he ran towards you, you opened the back car door, blocking him momentarily as you climbed in, planning to slide across and run out the other side.

Your fingertips reached for the door handle, but large hand gripped your legs, pulling you back towards him. Flipping onto your back, you tried to kick him off, desperately scratching at his arms with your your nails at the same time.

The man pinned you beneath him, cackling at your pathetic attempts to fight back. In your panic, you grabbed at his face, pulling his mask off at the same moment his bloodied knife came to your throat.

You froze beneath him, staring up into your step brother’s eyes in shock and horror.

“Rafe?” You whispered, tears spilling past your lashes. “Why?”

A sickening grin spread across his lips as he leered above you. “Didn’t I always tell you, sweetheart? JJ isn’t good enough for you. He didn’t know you like I do.”

His free hand came to your cheek, stroking it lovingly and accidentally smearing JJ’s blood across your skin.

“Stop it!” You whimpered, nausea bubbling up in your gut as the coppery scent hit your nostrils. “You’re insane!”

Rafe’s eyebrows furrowed at that, anger darkening his eyes. He drew so close you could feel his breath against your skin, “I’m just trying to protect you-”

“Protect me?!” You hissed, tears streaming down your cheeks now.

Rafe’s nose twitched, frustration written all over his face.

“You don’t get it,” he mumbled, eyes leaving your face and trailing down your chest. “But I’ll show you.”

Rafe removed the large blade from your throat, grabbing the bottom of your shirt before slicing it down the middle.

You whimpered beneath him, trying to cover yourself up, but his knife found your throat again, pressing down slightly.

“Don’t make me hurt you too,” he threatened, his low voice making your stomach twist.

His pupils were blown wide as he took you in.

“No bra?” He grinned wickedly, “guess my lil sis is more of a slut than I expected.”

“Rafe,” you pleaded, voice breaking through your tears as you looked up at him. “Please, I’m scared.”

He groaned at that, pressing closer and you shuddered at the feel of him growing harder against you. You squirmed when his large hand cupped over your tit, squeezing your nipple between two fingers and drawing a whine from your throat.

His lips smothered yours, hungrily tasting you and taking your breath away. With the cold metal at your throat, there was nowhere to turn to get away from him. Nausea churned inside you when he pushed his tongue into your mouth.

He pulled away finally and put the knife down on the floor to unbuckle his belt, fumbling with his button and zipper before freeing his erect cock from his boxers, not even bothering to push his pants down.

At the sight of your step brother stroking his hard dick above you, your tears started flowing again, disgust and horror mixing with a third emotion you were too ashamed to identify.

Rafe forced your thighs apart, pushing your skirt up to reveal your pink panties.

“Shit, Y/N,” he groaned, pressing his thumb to your covered clit. You squirmed in his grasp, biting your lip to stop your whimpers from escaping.

“Can’t wait anymore,” he breathed through gritted teeth, grabbing your panties and sliding them to the side before lining his tip up with your slick entrance.

“Stop, Rafe-!” your protest was cut off when your step brother pushed himself inside you, stretching your unprepared cunt around him.

You whined loudly, heart skipping a beat when his hand wrapped around your throat, smearing the blood from the knife across your tender skin.

He stilled above you for a moment, taking a shaky breath as he basked in the feeling of your snug walls squeezing around him, tighter than he could have imagined. He inched himself deeper until his tip kissed your cervix.

Rafe leaned closer to you, his lips covering your before he began slowly thrusting into you, increasing his pace with each push of his cock.

You mewled against his lips, confused and disgusted with yourself when you could feel yourself growing wetter around him.

He broke the kiss and you gasped for breath, only for his grip to tighten around your throat.

There was nowhere to go, and Rafe easily caged you in on top of the leather seats of car. You felt claustrophobic, overstimulated by the feel of him rutting into you in the cramped backseat.

The lewd sound of his cock plunging into your slick cunt taunted you, and you couldn’t control the pornographic moans that he was forcing out of you.

His thrusts were brutal, bordering on punishing at this point, and his fingers were squeezing around your neck so tight your vision was becoming fuzzy at the edges.

“Rafe-!” You choked, hot tears burning at your eyes.

The world was spinning around you, the pressure building between your legs. You grabbed onto Rafe, clinging to him tightly in your confusion.

“Tell me you love me,” he groaned, not slowing his pace at all as his thumb found your clit, messily rolling over it.

Your skin crawled at his words, stomach flipping as you nervously shook your head no, but you couldn’t bite back your moan as he teased your tender bud.

You knew that only pissed him off more though, and his grip on your throat tightened in warning.

“Tell your big brother you love him, dumb fucking slut.” He hissed, hitting a spot that made you see stars.

“I-” you whimpered before whispering. “I love you.”

He kissed you hard, growling as he pulled away and resting his damp forehead against yours.

“Tell me again, baby.”

His hips tilted to meet yours, pushing himself deep inside you with each thrust. His thumb lazily traced your clit, pulling you to the brink.

“I love you,” you moaned, primal desires overcoming your thoughts of resisting.

“Again.”

“I love you, fuck, Rafe!” you whimpered as you were pushed over the edge.

Blinding white light exploded behind your closed eyes as you came undone around him. Sinful pleasure tingled between your legs as he fucked you even harder, and he cursed as you squeezed around him.

You couldn’t think straight, much less control your mouth, and the endless string of “I love you Rafe”’s that rolled off your tongue was the reason it wasn’t long before your step brother was painting your walls with his sticky seed.

[rosebudfics]

Professor!reader and severus being married but hiding it from the students, bc they dont want the gossip and are just private people in general BUT one day sev forgets to take off his wedding ring and the golden trio go on this whole mission to find out who hes married to; completely freaking out when it turns out hes with reader cause theyre complete opposites while teaching

(Sorry if this is too long or doesnt make sense :^ i had this scenario in my head for some time lol)

Secret Lovers

Severus Snape x Professor! Reader

Warnings: use of the name "git" a lot lol, reader is the astronomy teacher but you can swap it out for any class, Snape smacks Ron and Harry

A/N: I LOVE THIS REQUEST SO MUCH OMG!?!?!?! also this isnt really set in any specific year but its more leaning towards where theyre older since snape you know.. hits ron and harry over the head and harry has the map <3

You and Severus had managed to keep your relationship secret for a couple years now, with the exception of only Minerva and Dumbledore knowing.

Why does anyone else need to know anyway? It was none of their business!

So one regular morning when you and Sev were getting ready for the day in the early hours of the morning, he had somehow forgotten to take his golden band off. You both would usually keep them in a little ring box at home so they were hidden but safe and put them back on at night, but today Severus had just forgotten to take it off.

You would bid your goodbyes at home before you left together, getting one last kiss in before heading back to Hogwarts, then Severus would put his usual cold face back on.

You both headed to your classrooms like normal, Severus still failing to notice the wedding band still on his finger.

When classes started, everything was going how it usually would: he would deduct house points, snapping at kids whenever they would interrupt his teaching, etc. That is until Hermione noticed a particular shine off her teachers hand.

Hermione looked closer before very quietly gasping. "Holy cricket!" She whispered so only Harry and Ron could hear her.

“What?” Ron asked curiously but not very quietly, earning the attention of Severus.

“On Professor Snape’s hand, he was wearing a wedding ring!” She said in a hushed voice.

“You must be crazy Herminone, there's no way that he’s married to someone.” Harry chuckled.

“Yeah, no ones gonna want to let alone be in any relationship with that old git-” Ron was interrupted by getting smacked over the head by Severus, followed up by Harry getting smacked as well.

Hermione just kept quiet, keeping her giggle to herself.

“Would you mind repeating yourself Mr. Weasley?” Severus sneered down at him.

“...no, sorry.” Ron grumbled.

“Mhm. 5 points from Gryffindor, and that's me being generous.”

After class, Ron, Hermione, and Harry all gathered at the library at break. “Are you sure you saw a ring, Hermione? Was it even on his ring finger?” Harry asked as he sat down some books in front of him.

“I'm certain! The real question is though, to who?” Hermione thought for a minute.

“Harry, why can't we just use your cloak to spy on him?” Ron questioned like it was obvious.

“Brilliant!” Harry exclaimed but Hermione smacked him in the arm.

“That's invading his privacy! It's terribly rude.” She scoffed.

Ron then mocked her, earning a smack. After a while of begs and pleas, she finally caved.

“Alright, alright!” She sighed.

They then all made their way back to the dorm to get everything they needed. Harry also grabbed the Marauders Map so it would be easier to find Snape. And then off they went on their little adventure to hunt down his wife.

They had to do some weaving and dodging to not bump into anyone (they bumped into Neville at some point, terrifying him) until they made it to the staff room. Harry looked down at his map to find Snape and you, they're astronomy teacher, alone.

“What are Professor Snape and Professor y/n doing together?” Ron asked in a confused voice.

Harry hushed him and then looked into the keyhole to find Snape and you talking to eachother.

“Are you sure no one saw the ring?” you asked again.

“Yes, dear, I am sure of it.” Snape said in a somewhat annoyed tone. “If someone did see it, I would be getting hounded with questions!”

“Yeah well not if all the students are terrified of you!” you sighed. “Look I'm not mad, I don't want you to think that, it's just we've gone this long keeping it secret it feels weird to just slip up like this”

Severus stepped towards you and grabbed your face in his hands. “Listen love, no one will know. Maybe in the future we can be more open about it.” He then bent down and kissed her gently, and you wrapped your arms around his neck pulling him closer.

Harry gasped quietly and backed up. He was about to say something before he heard footsteps walking towards the door. “We gotta get outta here!”

They all then scurried off down the hall back to the dormitory.

“Harry, what did you see? What were they doing in there?” Ron asked.

“Its professor y/n, that's who he's married to!” Harry was slightly out of breath from running.

“Professor y/n?? But they're so.. so different!” Hermione was shocked.

“You must be seeing things mate, there's NO way Proffesor y/n is married to the old git.” Ron scoffed.

“I'm telling you! They were talking about how he had forgotten to take his ring off or something and then they kissed!” Harry gushed.

They then talked about why you would ever want to marry Snape for the rest of break. Interestingly enough they next class was with you!

Since you were an extremely nice and open teacher, they felt more comfortable talking to you about it.

"So professor y/n, have you been seeing anyone lately?" Ron asked before class actually started.

You were caught off guard to say the least. "Well... I dont really see how my romantic life concerns any of you," you laugh whole heartedly.

Ron then smirked. "You never denied it. Perhaps another Proffesor that teaches here!" Hermione pinched his side as a warning to shut up.

"I don't know what your getting at, Ron" you chuckle becoming a little worried.

"Well the man I'm thinking of is a mean, old, cranky git that likes potions-"

"Thats enough! You don't ever talk about another Proffesor like that!" You scolded him.

"Alright, sorry proffesor... but im right, aren't i?" Ron smirked.

Harry and Hermione perked up to listen.

You sighed, before making sure that no other student or teacher was around, nd then said "You must not tell anyone."