#the later seasons are fucking ridiculous and i love them so much

[all-that-jazz-93]

AoS became delightfully bonkers the moment the showrunners realized they were never going to be acknowledged by the main MCU, and more importantly, when they realized that gave them the freedom to do whatever the hell they wanted

[55szn]

good luck - mv1

max verstappen x fem!reader smau

summary when max and y/n adopt a black cat and everyone thinks it’s bringing him bad luck, they are determined to prove them wrong

warnings none i think

fc various girls from pinterest

notes requested!💘 loved this so muchhajska (excuse my poor editing skills on this one lol)

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[new child just dropped, everyone say hi to mocha🐾][same mocha, same @ maxverstappen1]

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maxverstappen1

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maxverstappen1 not having the season we expected, lots of work ahead.😑

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yourusername ❤️ liked by maxverstappen1

user male acting performance where he’s having the worst day of his life but looks so hot doing it:

user girlsnjasfkja😭

user i’m being so serious rn you HAVE to give that cat to someone else

user first dnf i laughed… second dnf i serioused

user dw i played the dutch anthem at home for you king🧡🧡

user IT’S OKAY POOKIE YOU ARE GONNA WIN ALL OTHER RACES😖😖😖

user not if he doesn’t get rid of that cat lol

maxverstappen1 just uploaded to their story!

[😍🐈‍⬛ @ yourusername] [when the cat steals your gf😑]

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yourusername certified dilf‼️

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maxverstappen1 the last pic??

yourusername gave me dad vibes idk

user so true

user what are the odds of max getting a black cat and immediately starting to get bad results

user ikr

user just a coincidence 🤷‍♀️

user one time thing is a coincidence, two dnfs in a row and then not being able to get a single win in many races… sounds like “black cat curse” to me sorry

user get rid of the cat if you want him to win the championship i’m BEGGING🙏🏻🙏🏻😫😫

user you guys are so ridiculous

user mocha with the max plush omgggggg i might die🥹🥹🥹🥹

user idc what anyone says he is gonna win the championship again and mocha will be forgiven you read it here first

user cat crazy lady + cat crazy dude = perfect match💘

FEW MONTHS LATER

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[4x world champion🥹🧡 i love you so much @ maxverstappen1] [beyond proud🦁🫶🏻]

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yourusername black cat bring good luck 😺 not bad luck 😾 so so proud of you maxie🧡

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maxverstappen1 my girls🫶🏻🥰

maxverstappen1 love you❤️

yourusername love you more dilf💘

user just unserious as fuck😭😭

user max calling the cat and yn “his girls” like mocha is his daughter or smth😭

user she is his daughter wdym

redbullracing what an adorable lucky charm😺🍀

yourusername you know it🫡

user queen 🙏🏻

user I KNOW WHO MY GOAT IS🐐🐐 (mocha)

user mocha redemption arc ohhh i’ve been waiting for this one

user FR I ALWAYS BELIEVED IN YOU MOCHA😫

user THEY GOT MOCHA A PADDOCK PASS IM CRYINGGG

user always blessing us with the best max pictures thank u mother🥹

user please god i also want to raise a black kitty with my incredibly hot bf😔😔

user oh to be mocha…

user you don’t understand this lil family is EVERYTHING to me☹️☹️

[captainfern]

141Rugby!au [18+]

• Part Five - Perfect •

141 x fem!reader

•º•º•º•º•º•º•º•º•º•º•º•º•º•º•º•º•º•º•º•º•º•º•º•º•

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You've recently started a new job as a physiotherapist for an English Rugby Union team. It's your job to ensure that all the players are in top shape for upcoming games against other strong teams. This job is absolutely perfect for you: good pay, good hours, a fun and exciting atmosphere to be apart of. But there's just one thing you can't seem to understand– the same four players seem to need more attention than the rest.

chapter summary - rugby season is over, and the boys want to thank you for all your hard work lol.

rating - 18+

wordcount - 8.7k

chapter warnings - fem!reader, straight-up porn the slowburn has ignited baby, sharing <3 [4mx1f], unprotected piv, protected anal, oral [f!&m!receiving], m!masturbation, reader goes to paris lmao, voyeurism ig, praise, a lot of pet-names [baby, bonnie, love, sweetheart, etc], hella dirty talk, light overstimulation, multiple orgasms, spitting? cumplay? idk there's a lot of bodily fluids, price has a breeding kink and a sir kink, simon also has a breeding kink what a fucking surprise, gaz is a munch, johnny's just desperately horny, they work as a team but each get possessive in their own ways, um... that's it i think, oh strong language ofc

disclaimer - physiotherapist, or staff x player sexual relations are not allowed in the real world. but please keep in mind this is fanfiction. it's fake. if you have an issue with inappropriate relations with faculty, blurred morals [etc], then please do not read. additionally, reader be fucking in this series. all four. separately, and at once. it's not cheating, i promise. it's consensual sharing <3

see my rugby union introductory for definitions of rugby words

<- part four

hi !! i am very sorry this took so long for me to write for you guys, but thank you so much for your patience and your support. i appreciate it !! and fyi, this has not been edited or anything like that. i’m posting this shit raw lmao. enjoy and thank you for reading <3

•º•º•º•º•º•º•º•º•º•º•º•º•º•º•º•º•º•º•º•º•º•º•º•º•

It was two weeks after Price had asked if you were free this weekend. You were free, and you met up with the boys for dinner. It was nice, polite, and you really got to know them all a lot better. But, undeniably, the sexual tension was through the roof.

If it had been any other day, you would've gone home with them. But you didn't. You had work bright and early the next day, and you knew for a fact you wouldn't have been able to walk.

But two weeks later, it was the night of the Premiership Rugby Awards. Perfect.

The event itself was almost simply a blur. Kyle and Johnny were both commended for their work on and off the rugby field, and you beamed from your spot at the support staff table, watching them congratulate each other, dressed impeccably in ridiculously attractive suits.

Price was nominated for captain of the year, and was runner-up. Still, his team whooped and cheered for him, and you did the same. You and the other supporting staff clapped and hollered as he received a small award, standing awkwardly on stage. At least he didn't have to speak. Walking back to his table, he caught your eye and smiled, winking as the small glass trophy glinted in the light. He held it aloft for you to see, a subtle gesture that made your tummy flip. You held up a thumbs-up for him.

Then, the award of the night, Player of the Year. Simon was nominated and, hardly any surprises there, he won. You resisted the urge to spring to your feet and join the audience in the rapturous applause as he made his way on stage.

He looked out of his depth as he approached the microphone. But, hey, at least he looked really fucking good in that suit. You sipped casually at your champagne through the entire night and listened to the rich baritone of his voice as he delivered his quick, simple speech. And, towards the end–

"A huge thank you, too, to my team's support staff, and especially our physiotherapist, who should be getting award considering she keeps the lot of us intact and puts up with us on a daily basis."

The crowd laughed at that, and you smiled bashfully. Even from across the room, you could feel Simon's eyes on you. And John's. And Johnny's and Kyle's. You took another swig of your beverage, pressing your thighs together beneath the table.

Oh yeah.

Tonight was the night.

•º•º

Hours later, you and Gaz stumbled through the door of Johnny and Simon's flat together. He had his hands on your waist, his chest glued to your back and his face buried deep into the crook of your neck. You giggled as he wrapped his arms further around you, your hands resting on his forearms as he slowly began sucking a kiss onto the curve of your neck.

Although no one was drunk, you and Gaz were definitely the tipsiest. The small amount of alcohol in your system was enough to flood you full of liquid courage as you squirmed in Gaz's hold, rubbing your arse back onto his very prominent erection in his suit trousers. He groaned into the crook of your neck, his teeth grazing against you, as the three others finally walked through the front door.

Johnny was the first to engage– his eyes lit up in excitement as he kicked his shoes off and hurried over to you and Gaz. You giggled again, smiling at his enthusiasm as he grasped your face in both of his hands and kissed you. You smiled into the kiss– messy with tongue and spit– and enjoyed the warmth of his hands against the side of your head. Gaz had backed himself against the wall, and he continued to suck a line of kisses over your neck as Johnny kissed you.

Simon and Price stood in the doorway, watching the way you were wedged between Johnny and Gaz. They exchanged a look, a knowing glint in their eyes, before they made their move.

Price lit up a cigar as Simon shrugged off his suit jacket, tossing it into the living room and hoping it landed across the couch. He was left in his white, form-fitting dress shirt. He began rolling up the sleeves as Price exhaled a puff of smoke into the air.

Johnny was still kissing you like his life depended on it, but one of his hands had travelled south, slowly beginning to peel away the straps of your dress. They fell down your shoulders, and Gaz helped push it down your arm, all the way until your breasts spilled out the front. Johnny broke the kiss and moaned loudly, his hands immediately shooting upwards to cup you, twisting your nipples between his thumb and forefinger. You whined, arching against Gaz, whose hands travelled down your stomach and pushed your dress down at the same time.

Your dress dropped, pooling around your ankles, leaving you in just your underwear. You heard all four boys react in different ways to the almost dramatic reveal of your body– a subtle hitch of the breath from Simon and Price, and two very desperate whimpers from Gaz and Johnny.

Wordlessly, Gaz's hands skimmed lower. They passed gently over the soft mound of your tummy, rubbing gently just above the hemline of your underwear. He was less than a second away from pushing his fingertips inside when Simon approached; a looming shadow over the three of you intwined against the wall.

Gaz looked up, his mouth still pressed hot against the bare curve of your neck and shoulder. His lips glistened with saliva, and so did your skin. Johnny looked at Simon too, his hands still cupping both of your tits.

"Not here," Simon said softly. "Come on lads, be gentleman. Let's take our girl to bed."

You whined when Johnny stepped away, the warmth on your tits vanishing with him, your nipples hardening against the cool air in the flat. Even the warmth of Gaz disappeared too– he peeled himself away from you with one last cheeky kiss to the spot just below your ear. For a brief moment, you were alone– until Simon's hands were suddenly gripping the back of your thighs and he was hoisting you into his arms.

You yelped, arms circling the broad expanse of his shoulders as he held you to his chest, your nipples catching against the buttons of his dress shirt as you squirmed against him. You squirmed for two reasons: one being because of the shock of him carrying you; and two, the fact he was happily groping the soft flesh of your thighs as he began to climb the stairs.

"S'alright, pretty girl, I've got you," Simon murmured in your ear before kissing your cheek. With impressive strength– the strength that won him Player Of The Year– he carried you effortlessly to the top of the stairs, and then carried you all the way to what was presumably his bedroom. When he entered, Gaz, Johnny and Price weren't far behind, and he settled you gently on the edge of his bed. With one hand, he gently cupped your face. "You okay, doc? S'this what you want? All of us?"

You were nodding before he even finished his sentence, looking between the men in front of you with glimmering eyes. Of course this is what you wanted. This is what you have wanted for the past several months.

"If at any point you want us to stop, jus' say rugby," Simon said, a sternness in his tone that had your cunt leaking in your underwear. "We'll stop, okay? Promise me, doc. Promise us."

"I promise," you squeaked out. "I promise."

"Good girl..." Price uttered, leaning down from next to Simon and kissing you on the forehead. He stepped away before you could pull him into a proper kiss.

Instead, you reached up and pinched your fingers around one of the buttons on Simon's shirt, beginning to unbutton it. He chuckled lowly, his hand leaving your face to grab hold of your wrist.

"Not yet, love," he said softly, his tone putting you at ease as butterflies began filling your stomach. "We've got this all planned out, okay? You'll have me soon, but Gaz n' Johnny are gonna make you feel good first. Is that okay?"

His words, searching for your consent, made you whimper. You nodded, of course, whining a yes please as Simon stepped away. Your eyes found Gaz, who was already walking towards you, and you couldn't help but giggle when he got close and slotted his mouth to yours.

Gaz kissed you deeply, his tongue breaching the seam of your lips and licking against yours as his hands came to rest on your hips. With a little force, he pushed you up the bed– still kissing you– and lay you down on your back. Your hands found his shoulders– now bare of his suit– and your fingers flexed down the smooth planes of muscle. He groaned into your mouth, pulling back and dragging his lips down the curve of your jaw, beginning to suck even more kisses to the sensitive expanse of your throat.

"Such a pretty girl, bonnie..." Johnny approached, the bed sinking to his weight as he crawled alongside you. Immediately, he slipped his hands between you and Gaz and began pawing at your tits, rolling your nipples with the pads of his thumbs. Like Gaz, he had somehow stripped to his briefs between Simon putting you down onto the bed, and now. The hard imprint of his cock against his black underwear had you moaning, arching against Gaz– your clothed cunt rocking against his erection, making you moan even harder.

Johnny kissed you again as Gaz worked on peppering your entire body with kisses. He was now slapping Johnny's hands away from your tits so that he could take one into his mouth, swirling his tongue around you. Johnny broke the kiss with a saliva-soaked "th'fuck?" and a light frown. Gaz looked up at him challengingly as he pressed his tongue hot to your nipple– pulling a little whimper from you– and Johnny accepted his challenging stare. The Scot slinked down your body, not wasting any time with extra kisses– instead, he attached his mouth directly to your other breast, his teeth nipping the soft flesh.

Across the room, Simon and Price watched. They were a bit older, a bit more experienced, and had a bit more patience then the two players pinning you to the mattress currently. Although, Simon could feel his patience wearing thin. Your moans and whimpers were heavenly, and you looked absolutely stunning. He felt his cock twitching in his trousers, and kept his palm pressing heavily against it.

Price eyed his teammate and then offered him a puff of his cigar while Gaz and Johnny sucked and kissed your chest, their hands beginning to explore your almost naked body.

Simon accepted the cigar and took a long drag. Price huffed, smiling coyly when Simon returned the cigar. "Patience, Simon." It was said in a whisper, and Simon's response was a grunt and a subtle roll of his eyes. Yeah, he can be patient. Sure.

"Gaz, Johnny, fuck–" You whimpered, one of your hands cupping both Gaz and Johnny's heads. Gaz blinked up at you and was the first to detach his mouth, lips still shining with his saliva.

He moved down your body as Johnny continued his sucking– he had moved back to your neck, nipping at your collarbone now. Gaz settled himself between your legs, rubbing your thighs softly before hooking his fingers into the waistband of your underwear. He searched your eyes for permission and when he found it, when you nodded and mouthed a desperate please, he carefully pulled your underwear down.

Instead of tossing them across the room like he usually would have done, he looked to his side and held them aloft, gesturing at the two men sitting on the couch in the corner of Simon's room.

Simon nodded, and snatched them up after Gaz threw them. His cock twitched in his trousers, painfully hard against the seams, as he felt the sheer dampness of your underwear and the expensive fabric against his hand. God, he wanted to wrap it around his cock and paint it white.

Gaz moaned loudly as he spread your legs, exposing your cunt to the shadowed lighting of Simon's room. Price and Simon's eyes were between your legs from across the room, and Price withheld a grunt in his throat, almost choking around an exhale of grey smoke. Like Simon, he left his cock twitching and straining in the confines of his trousers. There was a mutual competition that whoever gave in first and fucked their fist lost. There weren't any particular stakes. Not yet, anyway.

"Just as pretty as I remember," Gaz breathed, massaging your inner thighs. He watched slick dribble out of you and down the curve of your arse with a vulpine smile.

Above him, Johnny removed his mouth from your neck and you could feel how damp your skin was now. You wanted to turn your head to look at him, but you couldn't take your eyes off of Gaz.

The winger kneaded your thighs gently, massaging his fingers into the soft fat as he spread you out for him. His eyes, gleaming with excitement, were transfixed on the way your cunt fluttered, your swollen clit glistening between your folds. You watched him run the tip of his tongue over his bottom lip before he leaned in and placed a gentle kiss to your pussy.

You gasped, chest heaving, eyes still on Gaz when he placed another kiss against you, as though he was kissing your cheek. His eyelashes fluttered and a deep moan rumbled from his chest. Quickly, he deepened the kiss until he was licking the point of his tongue through your folds and his nose was pressed flush to your clit.

"Oh, fuck–" you whimpered. Memories of the way Gaz ate you out last time flooded you, making your body heat up. He was so fucking good.

He looked up at you from between your legs, soft brown eyes staring into yours. They were still gleaming, crinkled at the edges as though he was smiling– smiling into your soaked cunt as he dragged his tongue through your folds and licked up as much of your arousal as he could. Cheeky little–

A hand grabbed your jaw and forced your head to the side. You parted your lips to gasp, but the sound was sucked from your mouth as Johnny smashed his mouth to yours.

He held your face firmly, whining loudly into the kiss as he licked his tongue against yours. His other hand was dipping into his briefs and pulling his achingly hard cock out. He fisted it, whining loudly again, and you couldn't help but smile.

Clearly, Simon found it amusing too.

"Gettin' desperate, are we, Johnny?" He mocked from across the room.

Johnny broke the kiss, panting against your mouth as he jerked his cock, his hand still holding your head in place. He whined softly when his fingertips ghosted the underside of his cockhead, and he breathed deeply in an attempt to bite back at Simon's remark.

"S'not fair..." He whined again, sounding more and more like a wounded puppy, or something else along those lines. "She's got such a pretty mouth an' s'not bein' used properly."

He kissed you deeply again, all spit and teeth and tongue. It was hard to keep up, the way Johnny was invading your space. Your brain was foggy, body on fire, only thinking about the men around you and, especially, the fact you were about to come.

You moaned into Johnny's mouth– both Price and Simon moaning in response as they palmed at their clothed hard-ons– as Gaz sucked your clit into his mouth. He swirled his tongue around the puffy bud, his top teeth just skimming it, before he was quickly dragging his mouth just that little bit lower so that he could stuff your leaking hole. He pushed his tongue in with a light moan, grinding his hips into the mattress as he did so. Your taste, your smell, your noises, everything was making him harder.

You managed to turn your head away from Johnny's mouth. He huffed, leaning his forehead against your temple, mouthing at your cheek and jaw with light puffs eliciting from his saliva-slick lips. He was still jerking himself off, his cock leaking pre-cum onto Simon's sheets.

"Kyle..." You moaned the winger's government name. "M'gonna– oh my god, oh my god–"

Gaz kept the thrusting of his tongue steady, humming against you as your legs shook within his grasp.

Johnny, the desperate man he was, pulled your mouth back to his, licking a stripe over your lips before muttering, "That's a good girl, bonnie. Come for us. Come n' then I'll– I'll stuff this pret– fuck, pretty mouth with my– ah– my cock." After uttering that against your lips, he was shoving his tongue back into your mouth.

Then, you came for the first time of the night.

The coil in your lower belly snapped and you moaned loudly against Johnny, back arching off of Simon's mattress as Gaz held your hips and thighs, pinning them as he licked you through your orgasm. His eyes were on you the entire time, watching as you unravelled while he licked up your release which dripped out of you and down his chin.

When Gaz pulled away, Johnny was manhandling you onto your hands and knees. You yelped, still fuzzy from your orgasm, as the Scot pulled you into position where your head was resting on one of his hairy thighs, your arse in the air.

"Need you," he muttered, pawing at the back of your neck while he stroked his cock and guided it towards your mouth. "Need you so fuckin' bad–"

"Slow down, Johnny." Simon growled from across the room.

Gaz laughed as he got up, not bothering to wipe the rivulets of your arousal that tracked down his chin and, now, down the column of his neck. He rolled his shoulders, easing the tension from laying on his front, before shucking down his briefs and shuffling back onto the bed.

"He's been waiting a long time for this, Simon," Gaz joked in the number eight's direction. "He knows our girl's been worth the wait."

Simon grunted, Price's cigar now between his lips. "Still doesn't mean he can throw her around like that."

"Simon–" Johnny gasped from the head of the bed. He was dragging the leaking, reddened tip of his cock against your lips, smearing his pre-cum over his saliva which already wet you. He looked over at his teammate. "Shut the fuck up."

Simon scowled. "Watch it–"

But Johnny wasn't listening anymore. Not when he eased his cock past your lips and into the warm, wet heat of your mouth. He moaned, really fucking loudly, as you hollowed your cheeks for him and took him further back in your throat. You withheld a gag, tears blotting the base of your vision as Johnny's cock nudged the back of your throat.

"JesusfuckingChrist," The Scot hissed, the hand on the back of your neck tightening so he could pull you closer towards him. Your nose rested in the coarse hair at the base of your cock, and you moaned quietly, eyes upwards and locked onto his. You could already feel him twitching in your mouth as you gently bobbed your head, a trickle of saliva being forced out from the corner of your mouth.

Meanwhile, Gaz was gripping his cock tightly at the base, his other hand squishing and squeezing at the fat of your arse and thighs. He was muttering something to himself, something you couldn't hear, but whatever it was made Soap chuckle above you.

"F'you like her arse so much, use it," Johnny joked, and you whined, your core fluttering.

Behind you, Gaz stopped muttering beneath his breath and released a breathy laugh, his hand holding one of your arsecheeks and pulling it gently to the side. "I'll need to stretch her out first..."

"We've got all night," Soap remarked, thrusting his hips and making you gag around him. A tear rolled down your cheek and you hummed out a whine at the way both of them were talking about you as if you weren't even there.

You couldn't see it, but Gaz smiled. He then vanished from behind you for a moment, before returning, popping the cap on the small bottle of lube and pouring a generous amount over two of his fingers. He then spread you again, pouring even more of the cool liquid directly onto your hole. And, for good measure, he let a glob of spit fall from his mouth and slide down your crack.

You moaned loudly around Johnny's cock as one of Kyle's fingers pressed against your hole, rubbing circles carefully while his other hand reached between your legs to rub a finger over your puffy clit. You moaned again, and the vibrations had Johnny whimpering quietly above you, hips bucking, the grip he had on the back of your neck tightening.

"Such a pretty mouth, such a pretty mouth," he chanted through his whining, eyes screwed shut and head tossed back as he continued to push and pull your head down his length.

Across the room, the sounds of your muffled moans and Johnny's whines, paired with the sight of Gaz spreading you open before him was enough– enough for him to hastily pull his cock out of his trousers and wrap it in your soaked underwear. He jerked his fist once, twice, three times before stopping, glancing over at Price who simply shook his head, chuckling.

"Soap," Price said after he had finished giving Simon an amused look. "Let our girl breath, yeah? Give her a break."

Your eyes rolled and you moaned loudly– not at Price's words, but at the feeling of Gaz pushing a thick finger into your arse, gently probing and stretching you open. You wondered if the light buzz of alcohol in your veins was making the sensations a whole lot more enjoyable.

Johnny whined. "But–"

"Pull your fuckin' cock out, Johnny," Simon hissed, resuming his hand movements, your underwear still wrapped around his dick.

Johnny whined once more, but pulled out like his captain and teammate said. He continued to hold the back of your neck, petting you gently as he slid his cock out of your mouth, strings of saliva connecting your lips and his shaft. He moaned at the sight, tempted to shove it back into the warmth of your mouth– but the burning sensation of Simon's eyes on him made him pause.

"This better fuckin' mean I get to fill her cunt," he grumbled, much to your amusement. You smiled up at him, and he smiled back, moving his other hand to cradle the side of your head.

Price grunted, and you broke eye contact with the scrum-half to look over at him and Simon on the couch. He too was pulling his hard cock out of his trousers and fisting it in his hand. The sheer size of the both of them made your core heat up all over again, butterflies returning to your stomach.

After a short moment, Gaz had two fingers inside you, scissoring you open while Johnny pet your face, staring down at you as you mouthed gently at his cock. You ran the tip of your tongue along the prominent vein on the underside, causing his entire body to wrack with shudders.

"Ready?" Gaz asked Soap, and the Scot looked away from you in the first time in about five minutes.

He nodded eagerly, a grin splitting across his face as he slid his hands beneath your armpits and hoisted you up onto your knees. You yelped, the action unexpected, and the sudden loss of Gaz's fingers from inside you making you feel empty, almost hollow. But, as Gaz split open a condom and rolled it onto his length, Soap's hands were all over you, and not once did you feel empty again.

"You alright, bonnie?" He asked, hands gripping your knees and spreading your legs apart so he could slot himself between them, his cock rutting through the folds of your pussy.

You momentarily lost your train of thought, your mouth dropping open and a small "uh..." dripping from it.

Price exhaled a plume of smoke around his words as he spoke to you. "Use your words, darling. S'alright if you want to stop."

Forcing your muddled mind away from the feeling of Soap's warm cock, you looked over at Simon and Price and shook your head, uttering out a string of "no, no, no."

"M'fine," you added for good measure. "Please don't stop."

As long as they had the green light, the lads weren't going to stop. Gaz had a large hand across one of your arsecheeks, holding it to the side as he guided the head of his cock to your stretched hole. Johnny waited patiently, his cockhead rubbing cruel circles against your swollen clit, not quite enough to give you proper stimulation. But, it was a pleasant distraction– a distraction from the initial stretch of Gaz carefully pushing his cock into you. Slow, slow, slow.

You released a shuddered gasp, head dropping forward to rest on Johnny's shoulder. Breathing laboured, you panted against his dewy skin as Gaz stopped, pulled out a centimetre, then pushed back in– over and over until his hips were wedged up right against your backside and he was dipping his mouth into the crook of your neck, breathing in your perfume.

"Good girl, baby..." He whispered, pressing a kiss to the pulse below your ear. "This okay?"

You nodded. "Yeah... it's okay."

"Tell me when you want me to move."

"Now," you said almost immediately, mind fuzzing over with pleasure. The pleasure of feeling full and hot and sweaty and completely fucked out. "Please move, Kyle, fuck–"

He did. He pulled out and pushed back in, ebbing like the tide with gentle thrusts that knocked the air out of your lungs. You cried out his name, head no longer resting on Johnny's shoulder, but leaning back against Gaz's.

Johnny couldn't wait any longer. The tip of his cock soon aligned with your leaking cunt, and he was pushing in just as Gaz pushed in as well. Both me released a guttural groan, their cock's only separated by a thin wall inside you.

But the noise you made was nothing short of pornographic– a high-pitched, breathy whine that was punched from the depth of your stomach. Your entire body fizzled, tingling with pleasure as both men used you at the same time, thrusting in and out at the same time. The intensity of it all had tears running down your cheeks, your chest tightening between breaths.

Soap's voice broke around a whimper. "You're so damn tight."

Gaz was next to speak. "Can't believe... can't believe we went so long without having you, eh, doc?"

The way they were talking to you was driving you crazy. Hell, the way they were moving against you was driving you crazy. You couldn't believe you went so long without letting them have you, either.

"Doing such a good job for Johnny and Kyle, sweetheart," Simon said, which you only heard vaguely, like an echo in a dark room. "Looking so fuckin' pretty taking both of their cocks. Doesn't she, lads?"

"Fuck, yeah–" Johnny moaned, not really listening, his eyes attached to the way his cock pistoned in and out of you.

Gaz was the same. Distracted. Too busy sucking wet kisses along the side of your neck. Too busy trying not to come straight away, the tight walls of your hole milking his cock with each upwards thrust. He did leave his trance-like state for a short period of time, enough to praise you and say your name in a breathless moan.

"Our good girl, doc. Y'just our good girl," he breathed against you. "Fuck– knew you'd be good. We just knew you'd be perfect."

That sentence alone had your stomach tightening with your next orgasm, thighs trembling and sweat building between your bodies. For a split second, you wondered what your electrolyte levels would be after this (the thought was wiped from your head when the head of Johnny's cock slammed up against your g-spot, making you mewl).

You struggled to keep your eyes open as your climax neared. Your senses were going into hyperdrive– the smells, the sounds, the everything was making you drunker than the alcohol you had already consumed earlier that night.

The smells of Soap and Gaz, their sweat and cologne, was like an aphrodisiac as they pinned you between their bodies, moving in tandem. The sounds of Johnny's moans and whimpers, and Gaz's breathless whines and grunts were driving you insane– as were the quiet groans coming from the couch across the room.

"Gaz... Johnny..." You mewled, body hot, clit throbbing. "I..."

You couldn't finish your sentence. Luckily, you didn't have too.

"Gonna come?" It was Price who put the words out into the open. "You gonna come, pretty girl? Go on. Tell 'em."

You repeated the first two words Price had said, following them with desperate moans of both Johnny and Kyle's names. Johnny's hands tightened on yours, slamming up into you while Kyle's were smoothing up and down your abdomen, hips grinding into your backside. The sensations threw you over the edge.

You came hard– both men caught off guard by the way your body tightened around them. Your head dropped back against Gaz's shoulder, and he kissed your cheek.

"Holy fuck," Johnny cursed, breathless. His chest was heaving, forehead glistening in a thin layer of sweat, and a slight tinge of red to his cheeks. Your cunt fluttered around the girth of him, all wet and warm and tight, causing his thrusts to falter, stutter, before he was coming inside you with no warning. "Holy fuck."

You whimpered, energy being sapped from your body at the feeling of him coming inside you while you were still coming down from your high. You could feel his cock twitching as he emptied himself up against your cervix, but you were distracted from the simple movement when he leaned forward and slotted his mouth against yours.

Soap kissed you exactly how he'd kissed you at the beginning of the night. Still full of passion and longing as the warm mass of his tongue swept over yours, slicking over the tops of your teeth. One of his hands found the back of your neck once more, and he held you to him while you kissed– all the while Gaz continued to rut gently into you, his own orgasm nearing.

"Baby, m'gonna pull out..." Gaz whispered into your ear, one of his hands kneading the flesh of your arse. "M'gonna pull out, take this fuckin' condom off, and come where you want me to come, m'kay?"

You forced your way out of Soap's searing kiss, turning your head so you could nod your acknowledgment to the winger behind you (luckily for you, he began kissing down your chest instead). Gaz did as he said and pulled out. He did so slowly, his hands rubbing your arse and hips the entire time. When his cock left you, you released a little whine, cool air seeming to fill you and make you shiver.

"You're okay, you're okay..." Gaz reappeared behind you after pulling his condom off, tying it and tossing it somewhere in the room (Simon had shot him a dirty look for that). One of his hands was on your hip again, his body melting into yours, his chest to your back. You could feel him fisting his cock behind you, the leaking tip smearing pre across the small of your back.

"Where d'you want me?" He asked you softly, and for a moment, it just felt as though you and him were the only ones in the room. If it wasn't for Soap sucking on your tits like a fucking maniac, the private intimacy between you and Kyle would've been believable.

To answer, you wiggled your hips against him, mumbling something along the lines of on me while trying to grab a fistful of Soap's mohawk and pull him away so you could arch forward. The Scot was stubborn, though, sucking one of your nipples into his mouth with a sparkle in his eyes.

Simon helped you out.

"Johnny, don't fuckin' push it," he growled and that was the first time you had heard him speak in a while.

You looked over to him, finding that he was still languidly fisting his cock; the tip red and angry, leaking pearl after pearl of precum. He was edging himself. Your stomach flipped with arousal, pussy fluttering.

Johnny backed off like a kicked dog, pouting as he shuffled to the edge of the bed. Gaz smiled, winking at his Scottish teammate as he placed a hand to the small of your back and guided you onto your knees and elbows, creating a perfect arch in your back and a perfect view of your arse for him. Then, he quickened the pace of his wrist, stroking his cock for a few seconds before he was painting your arse white.

Like Soap, Gaz moaned loudly when he came. The sound dissolved into a low whine as he fucked his fist through it, not stopping until he ran dry and his cock only just softened beneath his grip.

A few moments passed before you flattened yourself across the bed, laying on your stomach with exhaustion rolling over your body in waves. Johnny was the first to up and leave, placing a kiss to the crown of your head before he was moving across the room. Gaz stayed with you, his hands rubbing soothingly up and down your back.

"Doing so well for us," he told you. "D'you need anything? Water?"

You nodded and mere seconds later, Johnny was offering you a glass of cold water. You sat up to drink it, Gaz's cum smearing against Simon's sheets. You were hyperaware of Soap's cum dripping out of you and onto the sheets too. It made goosebumps bloom up your arms and legs, a shiver crawling through you.

Once you had drunken, the lads switched places like they had been practising.

Johnny and Gaz slipped away with one more kiss each to your lips, before two larger, broader figures were blocking your vision. Both Price and Simon had stripped now, all big chests and soft stomachs and hard cocks. It made you salivate.

"Just a bit longer, sweetheart, then you can have a nice break," Price cooed, walking up to the edge of the bed and placing his hand beneath your chin, gripping your jaw and angling your eyes up to him. While he did that, Simon slipped onto the bed behind you, the mattress dipping under his weight, and slotted himself up against you. Price squeezed your jaw once. "You feeling okay?"

You nodded, but something inside you prompted you to respond with a sultry "Yes, sir" while you stared up at him. A coy smile split along his face and before long, he was leaning down to kiss you. He tasted of smoke and expensive liquor as he kissed you, his tongue immediately invading your mouth.

"You want her first?" Simon asked, and you jolted in fright, almost forgetting he was right behind you.

John broke the kiss and, still holding your jaw, looked over at Simon and shook his head.

"You can go first."

The arrangement was set.

Simon pulled you away from John, and you couldn't help but yelp at the way he manhandled you onto your stomach. Then, he grabbed your hips and pulled you back onto your knees, your breasts and arms resting against the bed. The captain had crawled onto the bed and, after tossing aside Simon's pillows, settled himself at the head of the bed, leaning against the headboard. He spread his legs, patting one of his thick thighs invitingly.

Simon acted for you– pushing you up the bed and pushing another startled yelp from you. Your head came to rest against the warm, solid mass of Price's thigh, and his hand was put to work atop your head, petting you as though you were a cat.

Behind you, the number eight was nudging your legs apart with his knee, his large body doubling over yours as he slotted his hips against your arse, his achingly hard cock brushing over your soaked folds. You keened, moaning lightly as the tip of his cock nudged your clit, the thick weight of him smearing your and Johnny's cum up and down your slit. It made you shiver again.

"You don't have to do anything, okay, sweetheart?" Price uttered above you, still petting your head. His other hand gripped the base of his cock tightly. You watched a dribble of precum leak down the underside of it. "You're just going to lay there and be a good girl for me and Simon, okay? Be a good girl and take everything we give you."

At the completion of the captain's sentence, Simon notched the head of his cock at your hole. Your breath hitched.

Price cooed down at you. "S'alright... that's a good girl, just take it."

Simon eased into you, his cock splitting you open more than Soap's had. He was a bit thicker, and the stretch of it all had a moan catching in your throat. It stayed there until Simon bottomed out– the sound filtering from your mouth sounding like something out of a low-budget porno (it made Price's cock twitch, though).

"Fuck," you heard Simon hiss behind you. "S'a tight fuckin' pussy."

"Told you."

"Shut the fuck up, Johnny." Simon almost growled as he pulled out and then slammed back into you.

You cried out, sobbing a "S-Simon!" as his pace increased, his thrusts hitting deeper and deeper each time. You could feel the ruddy tip of him hitting the plug of your cervix, his girth stretching you open in such a way that you wondered whether you'd be able to walk tomorrow.

Probably not.

You realised both Gaz and Soap were sitting on the couch, and without even turning your head, you knew they'd be watching with their cock in hand. The intensity of the entire situation was otherworldly, and most definitely contributing to the fast rate at which your orgasm was approaching.

The sound of Ghost's cock moving in and out of you was lewd and wet. Wet shlick, shlick, shlick's and the slapping sound of skin-on-skin echoed throughout Simon's room, as well as the occasional creak of the bedframe and the hushed sounds of pleasure coming from the couch.

Bent over you, Simon was huffing and grunting. Deep groans left his parted lips periodically as he fought off his orgasm. God, the second he shoved his cock into the tight clutch of your cunt he wanted to come. But not yet. Not fucking yet.

"S'that feelin' good, pretty girl?" He asked you, his voice swimming through your head.

"Yes–!" You cried, one hand holding Price's wrist (his hand was still on your head), the other fisting the bedsheets beside Price's other leg.

"Yeah? You like being fucked by all four of us, hm? Like being stuffed full, don't you?" He didn't let you answer. He continued, "O'course you do, baby. 'Course you do. Such a needy little pussy... She just loves gettin' filled up, I can feel it."

Words evaded you. So you nodded. You nodded against Price's thigh, tears smearing against his hairy skin. He petted you gently, shushing you as Simon continued to rut into you, his entire body shaking with restraint. He needed you to come first.

"Want you to come for me," Simon whispered to you. "Want you to come all over my cock."

Then, one of his hands found your clit, and you were a goner. He rubbed three rough shapes across the swollen bud, and you were coming with his name falling from your lips.

You squeezed him tight, gushing around him as pleasure overtook you. The entire time you spasmed, your cunt leaking out around his cock, John held you against the mass of his thigh, petting you and massaging down your neck. You heard the odd "good girl" being whispered from him.

Simon praised you in similar fashion. "Good girl. Good fucking girl. My good girl."

The last part was whispered so quietly that you were sure no one else heard it but you. He said it as he curled over you, his chin against your shoulder, his massive arms holding himself over you as he fucked you hard.

"My perfect girl," he whispered again. Only to you. Then, it was like something went off in his brain. He released a low growl, something like a groan but much deeper. "M'gonna come."

"S'about fuckin' time," John joked, but Simon didn't find it at all funny. He ignored his captain.

His attention was only on you.

"M'gonna come right up in here, love." Simon held himself up with one arm, his other arm winding beneath you to grab hold of your tummy. He gripped it, kneading it, before pushing against it until you let out a small moan, the pressure making you dizzy. "M'gonna fill this pretty tummy right up. Fuckin' breed you right in front of the boys."

You were definitely drooling against Price's thigh.

With one last grinding thrust– and just as overstimulation crept into your head– Simon came. He came with a grunt and a quiet moan of your name, his cock right up against your womb as he emptied himself, filling you hot.

The heat made you moan, as well as the image of his cum mixing with Soap's and filling your womb.

What the hell–

The number eight didn't pull out straight away. He stilled above you, hips flush to your arse and his half-hard cock still plugging his cum inside you. Against Price's thigh, you mewled tiredly, shuffling your backside against the solid form of Simon behind you, your hands now travelling along the captain's legs.

Finally, Simon extracted his body from yours, but remained inside you. He kneeled, his large hands travelling down your back before finding your arse. He chuckled to himself, dragging his fingers through Gaz's load that painted you. With his pointer finger, he drew a smeared SR against your left arsecheek.

"Simon, gross," You complained, listening to the way he chuckled darkly to himself. You couldn't see him from your angle, but you knew he was probably grinning too.

Just like in the small period of grace between Soap and Gaz, and Simon and Price, you were offered water, with each man waiting patiently until you had finished the glass. While you drank, the four pairs of eyes on you made your stomach tighten.

This was all so foreign. But, god, you fucking loved it.

When the glass of water was placed soundly on the bedside table, Price slid down from the top of the bed and kneeled towards the end. He held out a hand to you, and you accepted, enabling him to gently lay you down with your head in the pillows (Simon had ordered Soap to pick them off the floor from when Price tossed them).

"Comfortable?" Price asked you, running his warm hands up and down your sides before slowly, slowly parting your legs and exposing your cunt to him.

You nodded. "Yes, sir."

He huffed proudly at that, a small smile surfacing. His hands shifted, and he brushed his knuckles along the sensitive skin of your inner thighs.

Beside you, the bed dipped. Simon kneeled on the floor next to the bed, his upper body leaning against the mattress. It was the perfect angle to cradle your face in his hands and wipe the steadily drying streaks of tears and saliva from your skin with his fingers.

Fingers, you realised, had not been cleaned. Fingers that still trekked a milky stripe of Gaz over your face.

You grimaced, and by the way Ghost was biting his lip to hide a smile, he knew what the grimace was for.

"S'a matter, pretty girl? S'just a bit a'cum," he teased lowly, and you had half the mind to smack his hand away. But his next words had you forgiving the action– the cheeky bastard. "Look so pretty covered in us, don't you?"

Kneeling between your legs, Price grunted his agreement with his teammate. He was fisting his cock, watching Simon and Soap's loads dribble out of you.

Pushing his hips forward, he slowly ran the head of his cock up your slit, making a mess of you. You whined, hands holding one of Simon's, as Price repeated the action a couple of times, eyes transfixed.

When Price's eyes did finally find yours, they were glazed, his pupils blown.

"Beg for it, sweetheart," he uttered, voice hoarse. "Beg for my cock."

You did. You started with a few desperate please's and several different curse words when you struggled to find the right things to say. But eventually, with your heart hammering against your ribcage and your clit pulsing in tandem with it, you begged out a yearning, "Please, sir, please– need your cock so bad. Please, captain–"

The captain hummed, pleased, as he thrusted himself into you without another warning. You cried out, arching off the bed as your cunt stretched around him, the tip of him knocking up against the plug of your womb just like Simon's had. It all felt so good you wanted to cry.

"That's it..." Simon whispered to you, nuzzling the side of your head as Price set his pace.

He held your legs either side of him as he fucked you, shunting your body against the mattress again and again. You'd already fucked him before, in his car just a couple of week ago, but this was different. So much different.

It's like he had something to prove. Maybe it was because his teammates, his closest friends, were watching, but he fucked you like he owned you. His thrusts were deep and driving and hit the perfect spot inside you each time. His hands on your legs were firm but gentle, and the way his eyes raked hungrily up your body were claiming enough.

His fingers dipped down to your arse momentarily as he shifted your hips, changing the angle so he could fuck you deeper. He looked over at Simon for a split second and nodded towards one of the pillows. The number eight got the hint, reaching over your head to grab one of his pillows. While he did that, unbeknownst to both you and Simon, Price's fingers wiped the sticky SR from your skin.

Once he had the pillow, Price shoved the pillow beneath you to keep your hips at the perfect angle. This way, he could continue to fuck his cock deeper and deeper into you, and still continue to worship your body with your hands.

But, he was closer than he would've liked to admit. He could feel, with each thrust, and each tightening of your slick, warm walls, his orgasm looming closer and close. That familiar coiling heat in his lower belly.

"C'mon, sweet girl, need you to come," he said breathlessly, then proceeded to push your legs upwards, bending your knees towards your ears. "Need you to come 'round my cock."

"M'close..." You whined, and the change in angle was pulling you tighter, sweat sticking you to the sheets below. But your body was exhausted, shaking and trembling and filled with honey-like pleasure that had your joints feeling heavy. "John, I don't... fuck, I can't–"

"Yes you can, sweetheart, yes you can," Price whispered, leaning down to kiss you. It was a sweet kiss, his facial hair tickling the warm skin of your cheeks and chin. When he pulled away, he placed a few more kisses to your nose, your cheeks and your jaw. "Just one more time for me. C'mon. One more time for your captain."

Well, when he put it that way...

It was like he had trained you, Pavlov's dog style. Your body jerked and you arched up against him, the same time the band of pleasure in your lower abdomen snapped.

"John!" You almost screamed, your orgasm hitting you like a tidal wave. Warmth seeped into your body, flooding your veins as you came around his cock, spasming and fluttering. You were dizzy, euphoria blinding you as he fucked you through it, Simon's hands on your head keeping you grounded.

Your release gushed around John, and he groaned at the way you drenched his pubic hair. The sounds of him moving in and out of you too were too much for him to handle.

(And too much for Soap and Gaz to handle, who spilled over their fists with loud moans from where they were sitting on the couch).

Price desperately wanted to praise you as his girl, a possessive my girl spoken into the universe. But, as captain, he knew better. As much as it did pain him to say, he croaked out a, "That's our girl."

You whined and whimpered, your body thoroughly fucked-out. As much as you enjoyed this, you felt as though you wouldn't be walking for the next few days, and would probably sleep for the next thirty-six hours.

"John, sir..."

"I know, sweetheart, I know, m'coming," he muttered, thrusts beginning to falter. "M'gonna come deep in this tight little pussy. Yeah... fill her up real good."

First Simon, now John? Damn. The personification of your pussy was not what you expected to get out of this tonight. But you weren't complaining.

The captain came, moaning your name loudly into the room. With a gentle hand splayed across your belly, he emptied himself inside you alongside two of his teammates'. The feeling of it never ceased to make his mouth drop open in pleasure.

Simon kissed your temple. "Alright, pretty girl?"

You nodded. "Yeah... more than alright."

•º•º•

You should have known that all four men would be absolute kings at aftercare. It was pure bliss.

Johnny popped into Simon's bathroom to run you a bath while Simon cradled you in his arms, not letting you feel an ounce of loneliness. He had dragged you over to the couch, hugging you to his broad chest and watching as Gaz stripped the bed and made quick work of changing the sheets. Price entered the room with a fresh glass of water and a small bowl of your favourite sweets (you didn't question why Johnny and Simon had them in their flat in the first place).

You sipped your water and snacked on the sugary food for a little while, Ghost's hands rubbing up and down your back. Before long, Johnny reappeared and helped his teammate in guiding you towards the bathroom.

There was a slight argument between who was going to get into the bath with you, but ultimately Gaz one, and Simon begrudgingly handed you over to him. The pair of you sunk into the warm water, and you immediately melted back into him.

"Did such a good job for us, doc..." Gaz whispered in your ear, massaging your thighs and hips from where you were nestled in front of him between his legs.

Simon, who was lurking over the bath like some sort of spectre, nodded. "Such a good girl."

The praise made your body heat up, the steam curling up from the water suddenly scolding.

In the doorway, Johnny watched on with his phone in his hand. He asked you, "D'you want me to order some food?"

You nodded. "Can we please get–?"

He was already walking away. "I know your order, bonnie!"

You made a face at Simon. He shrugged.

Price, like Simon, stood at the edge of the bathtub. He looked down at you with adoration in his eyes

"You're just perfect, aren't you, sweetheart?" He said, and Simon and Gaz were agreeing with him before the sentence even registered in your head. You smiled at him. He smiled back. "Our perfect girl, hm?"

•º•º•º•º•º•º•º•º•º•º•º•º•º•º•º•º•º•º•º•º•º•º•º•º•

[strawberrysainz]

romanticism. charles leclerc

“ being charles leclerc’s assistant was a piece of work. you loved him though. ”

charles leclerc x reader

a warning — crude language, mentions of food, alcohol consumption, semi-mature scenes.

word count: 2.8k

“Do you want a biscuit?” He pointed to the box of red, racing-themed biscuits, mouth already full with one. “Please don’t tell anyone.” He added as an afterthought, and you snorted to yourself, setting down a notebook to take a gingerbread man decorated as him.

The instagram handle for the baker was loud and proud on the box, and you took a photo of the little Charles, making a note to post it later.

Qualifying hadn’t gone very well for Charles, hence the angry biscuit-eating. He’d ended up third, but an incident in the famous tunnel of the Principality had cost him three more places. His white suit was blinding in the tiny room, and his frustrated little huffs as he flung things this way and that made you slightly on edge.

You had been scrambling to catch up with him this season; you had been dealing with a family crisis until Miami, leaving Charles with some guy as his assistant for the past races. You had thought he was decent at first, but Charles was a precise guy; if he was relying on you to keep it together at work for him, then you’d better fucking do it the way he wanted. Even you didn’t mess with Charles on a race weekend. He was so nervous or upset or he was the happiest guy in the world - it didn’t matter, you just had to be consistent, comforting and take things as they went.

You swore he could’ve kissed you when you arrived on Monday.

But here you were on Saturday, still uneasy; Monaco had always freaked you out - you didn’t believe in the curse because Charles scorned it, but a part of you had anticipated that a stroke of bad luck would always have its way here. It was nine in the evening, and the crowds were still insane. You were prepared to walk back to your apartment at this point, even if it would take you about an hour with the blocked off roads. You handed Charles his clean clothes to change into after his shower, and you were about to go home for the night -

“Do you want to have dinner with me?”

You tilted your head. You knew Charles’ new girlfriend had arrived this morning, surely he’d do something with her?

He must’ve seen the look on your face, and his unsureness- the way he couldn’t believe what he were saying- made you embarrassed.

“No, it’s alright. Get a good night’s sleep. I’ll struggle to get back to mine anyway.” You said abruptly. “Must I make you an Instagram post while you’re in the shower?”

He nodded, unlocking his phone. You immediately went into Google Drive to get some pictures as he left, when a message from Alexandra came in.

You blanched; usually, bar your forgetfulness, you put the phone on the do not disturb function so that you didn’t see what he was getting sent- but the full stops and seriousness made you guiltily keep a finger on the notification.

You’re being ridiculous. I can’t give up my job to come cheer you on. I know it’s Monaco but I thought I made it clear. I can’t make it after all, C. My job is equally as important as yours. You’ll be fine.

You inhaled sharply; she was pissed. You thought she was reasonable, but you knew how much it meant to him to have people here; he struggled in Monaco, and even if he didn’t admit it he was so anxious to please.

I’m sure she’ll have a little fuckin hug and a kiss for you. I’m not a cheerleader, that’s her job, Charles. Watch her under the podium instead. Or maybe not after all- I saw you got P6

Talk tomorrow

Your eyes widened. Was she talking about you?

You were being too nosy. You selected the pictures and put them together, locking his phone on the caption section so he’d write what he’d like. As you opened the door to leave, he was there, his eyes meeting yours; and he must’ve known that you knew something because he lowered his gaze.

“I’ll see you tomorrow.” You said quietly, patting his arm. “Sleep well.”

There was a desperation in his tone when he asked you again to supper.

Well, how the fuck could you say no? He was clearly desperate.

“I’ll invite Joris and Lorenzo, and Arthur.” He said quickly, and you sighed; “The usual?” It was a little tapas restaurant 15 minutes away.

You closed the door then, confused, and walked away, opening your phone to call Joris for a lift.

❤️‍🔥💿💌🍓

You were in the front seat surrounded by the familiar smell of Joris’ car; you two had become good friends- always together, waiting, working because of Charles.

You were busy typing about the gingerbread man when Joris asked you about the lack of Alex (Charles had probably been talking about her first Grand Prix together with him).

You paused. “They seem to be having some sort of rift. Not sure. Ask him.” You said shortly; you tried to stay out of his love life as much as you could. You’d liked his previous girlfriend to an extent, but the final events leading up to their breakup made it awkward for you to say goodbye. You tried desperately to be professional but at that point you were a really close friend of Charles’.

Joris nodded. You two did enjoy a paddock gossip now and again, but when it involved Charles alone you really weren’t into it.

You ended up taking longer to get to the restaurant because you made him stop at your house - you weren’t going to turn up in Ferrari gear - and showered, put new clothes on and sprinted back to his car in the drizzle.

Walking through the restaurant to your table in the corner, Joris was busy chattering on about the home GP content he was busy with; you were fiddling with your hair, your bracelets, your clothes, irritated to be there. Trying to be normal around Charles in non-work situations like he didn’t fucking employ you always stressed you out.

Not to mention he was being so awkward as of late.

You slid into the bench next to Lorenzo, giving him a warm pat on the arm as Joris sat on your other side. Charles was smiling at the sight of you - you greeted Arthur, and then him, and you were presented with some iced tea (no one drank next to Charles on a Saturday before the race).

You were lost in the conversation between Arthur and Charles (Arthur hadn’t done so well in F2 today either) when Lorenzo caught your attention.

“How are you?” You adored the way he spoke French; it was low and comfortable, in the kind of way that reminded you of a warm hug.

“Alright.” You said, giggling, and he nodded seriously. He knew about your stress - he’d never raced as intensely as his two brothers - and you’d always found him a comfort.

He was busy telling you about something - a trip with his girlfriend - when you heard the distress in Charles’ tone and turned to him. He was staring at the paella in front of him.

Joris was silent; Arthur just looked lost.

“What’s wrong?” You said quietly, and you noticed a few stubborn tears in his eyes that he was dying not to let fall.

“I’m just not feeling good about the race.” His tone was terribly melancholic, and you felt a bit frozen. “I- Cha-“

Lorenzo was stiff; you blinked.

Charles sat up straight. “It’s okay. Sorry.” His tone indicated no more talking about it, and Joris launched into a conversation about something, Arthur hurriedly joining in. You made eye contact with him sternly; we were talking about this later.

❤️‍🔥💿💌🍓

Supper had come and gone, the bill had been paid, and you found yourself alone in Charles’ car at 10:53 pm on the way back to your apartment.

“Please come in.” You had said to him, after he refused to go home immediately to sleep; promising a cup of tea before he got home.

You had dropped your keys by the front door and entered, your cat greeting the two of you. “What’s wrong?” You said, starting the kettle with a tenderness in your tone you could never replicate with anyone else.

Charles was just sighing, complaining, choking with emotion as he spoke of his fears - dear God, he was struggling - you poured milk and sugar, biting a lip, and eventually it became too much that you brought him in for a tight hug in the light of your kitchen, a song playing in the corner.

You pulled away, and to your surprise he was looking into your eyes softly, a gentleness in his expression that freaked you out. You felt your body soften as his hand met your hip, and you knew, despite yourself, you could never refuse him.

“Cha…” you murmured, gaze on his lips. Holy shit, this was so wrong.

He let out a little sigh that had you going insane, and you turned around to fetch the tea, overwhelmed; this was the only way you could prevent whatever what was happening, not happen.

He murmured your name again, and you turned around slowly, guiltily watching his beautiful face, certain feelings you’d suffocated return just like that.

His hand met your arm, gentle pressure prompting you to put the tea down. You gasped quietly as his hand on your hip brought you together, eyes wide and wanting.

He met your lips with his, and it was like a wildfire that burned, bright and haunting, kissing you everywhere, his touch burning, thigh in between your legs, arms and hands touching you everywhere, you were gasping and he was moaning, the desire in the air thick, scary, and his facial hair tickled you in a delicious way that made you shiver, eyes lidded, dark, and suddenly he was moving to take his shirt off and you stepped back, terrified, lonely.

“Charles, you have a girlfriend.” You said lowly, hair messy. You noticed your lipstick all over his lips and face.

He looked scared of himself. “Fuck. I have to go. I need to sleep.”

“And talk to Alex.” You said, scaring yourself with the heaviness of your tone, and he was gathering his things, tea forgotten.

When he left, you waved him out, mouth wobbling, and you burst into tears after closing the door, clutching your mouth, your sobs shaking you, sinking down to the floor.

❤️‍🔥💿💌🍓

You’d agreed to lift Joris the previous night, so you were glad to ditch seeing Charles until you really had to - an hour later, you walked into his driver’s room; he was doing some exercises with Andrea while the social media intern videoed him. You stayed out of sight of the camera, leaning against the wall, trying to distract yourself from the previous night’s events.

You were wearing more makeup than usual to hide your puffy eyes from the tears last night, determined to act as if nothing had happened. You really hated that Charles had cheated on his girlfriend with you; you could put it down to him being vulnerable, but you were at fault as much as he was.

When everyone had left, Charles was left on the couch staring sheepishly at you. You crossed your arms, an invisible ocean separating you two, you two continents.

“I told Alex.” He said calmly.

“And?”

“She said she can’t be with me if I’m not being faithful and she’s not there all the time. We’ve only been together three months. She’s not into it.”

“I’m sorry.”

He shrugged. “It was my fault. I made a move when I wasn’t meant to. I’m sorry for putting you in that position.”

From the way he was moaning yesterday, you weren’t sure if that was true.

“Okay.” You snort, moving to open the door. “Driver’s parade in 20 minutes. I’ll see you later?”

He nodded, waving a goodbye as you left.

❤️‍🔥💿💌🍓

P6, like he started.

It was consistent, Joris had joked in your ear as you shook your head, trying not to laugh. He’d had a pretty good race, the team hadn’t fucked up, it was just the way it went.

He had been busy with press and much more before he ended up back with Andrea where you and Joris had been waiting for about three hours (you were also a bit drunk; you’d had too many glasses of champagne from Paddock Club).

“Hi!” You giggled, high-fiving him. “Good job.” Joris also cackled, and Charles shot you a glare. “Are you drunk?”

“No.” You said firmly, shaking your head. “I am very sober.” You said, and Joris nodded seriously. “We had a little bit of champagne.”

Andrea gestures to the bottle that was on the table beside you. “What’s that?”

“For Cha! A well done.” You beamed, and presented it to him. Charles couldn’t help but laugh. “I am going to have to drive you two back in her car, no? Put my bicycle in the back.”

You and Joris were squealing with laughter at the idea, and the two standing before you were laughing at you.

“Come, you fucking idiots.”

“No! You can’t insult me, you kiiiiissssed me,” you giggled, and Joris didn’t catch it, but Andrea did, shooting Charles a glare, who if looks could kill, would’ve shot you dead. He looked so pissed.

“Come,” he snapped, and Andrea said that he’d take Joris.

❤️‍🔥💿💌🍓

He pulled up to your apartment. “Come in.” You said, and Charles scoffed. “Not for a long time now. I’ll see you tomorrow.”

You looked so vulnerable, rain falling on your head as you peered down at him. “Are you taking my car? I’ll come fetch it tomorrow.” You said softly. “Thanks for taking me. I’m sorry, I was stupid. I needed to relax for one fucking minute this week.”

Charles’ eyes softened, and he opened his mouth to say something before he closed it, nodding curtly, and drove away.

You couldn’t differentiate the raindrops from your tears, forcefully wiping them away.

❤️‍🔥💿💌🍓

You knocked on his door at midday the next afternoon, wanting to thank him before flying to Spain. You hated the energy he’d given you since you’d kissed; it was wildly different and you loathed it.

He answered a minute or so later, glasses on and a scruffy jumper, eyes tired. “Hi,” you were out of breath all of a sudden; he was so terribly attractive.

He looked surprised to see you. “I came to say thank you. And get my keys.”

“Come in. Do you want coffee?” He said instead, and you felt a bit of déjà vu from two nights before, hauntingly familiar.

You loved his apartment. The red and white was a colour scheme you adored, and you sat on the sofa while he made you a coffee, one spoon of sugar and a splash of milk just how you liked.

“I want to say sorry for how weird I was this week. I just hate the Grand Prix in Monaco, you know?” You said hurriedly, and he set down the coffee, sitting down next to you. He laughed. “I know. I know.” It had been this way since 2021- when you had started working for him- and he kept having shit races here.

He held out his hand. You squeezed it. “Let’s move on from it.”

He smirked. “Am I such a bad kisser?”

Your jaw dropped, throwing your head back laughing. “Cha!”

He was dead serious. “Why do you want to move on?”

“I work for you?” You said, disbelievingly, and his mouth twitched. “Charles, come on.”

He picked up the mug and took a sip.

You quite literally wanted to die.

He set it down again, looking seriously at you. “I don’t regret the kiss, if you want to know.”

You stare at him. “It literally broke you and your girlfriend up.”

“I like you.” He shrugged. “More than her. More than I thought.”

You laugh, bringing the coffee to your lips. “And when I saw your lipstick on my face…” he trailed off, blushing, “Fuck.”

You swear you were as red as a mother fucking tomato at this point.

“Slow down.” You retorted, trying not to spit the coffee out.

“Kiss me.”

You stare at him again. Was he fucking delusional?

“What?” You hiss.

He rolls his eyes and kisses you.

You’re pulled onto his lap, breath gone, kissing him as hard as you can. Your head is thrown back as he goes for your neck, and the sounds he’s making make you moan.

“You’re really hot with glasses on,” you tell him, and he falters, giggling, before carrying on.

This time you let him take his shirt off, matching him.

You fall back onto the couch. Those eyes on yours, the eyes of your beautiful boy.

❤️‍🔥💿💌🍓

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thank you, monaco 💋💋

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lorenzotl Padel boyssss

user i wish I had your job girl

carlossainz55 Please give me a shirt @charles_leclerc

maisonde.monaco ❤️‍🔥💋

user So glad to see you back in the paddock again!!

thanks for reading bestie ❤️‍🔥

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[formulauno98]

Could you do Toto Wolff with wife reader? She always wrote those little notes on post-its and leaving them at his office whenever she was there, so that he will get a little endorphin boost when stress/working. I don't know if it make sense. Add something you'd like though. Thanks :))

Thank you for your message, I love this prompt, it got me inspired to write again! So without further ado, here is Post-Its, a short and fluffy fic, just for you.

Post-Its

Word Count: 800

Warnings: Pure, unadulterated fluff

Author’s Notes: Disclaimer, purely fiction.

“Remember not to throw your headphones today.”

Toto smiled at the looped handwriting on the pink Post-it note he’d found hidden between his iPad and the keyboard. His angry outbursts were at this point somewhat expected but after a particularly tough season, he’d struggled to keep a lid on it and had been smashing his headphones virtually every race weekend. After a frank conversation with the Mercedes-Benz board, he knew he had to reign it in.

That’s where you had come in, leaving Post-it notes to remind him throughout the race weekend not to make a complete fool of himself. In a nice way, of course. Your husband was a passionate man and you knew that he only acted this way from a place of caring too much. Not the biggest fault in the world.

As Toto settled down for the morning to reply to a few emails before quali got underway, he grinned, carefully putting the Post-it in his cardholder, trying to keep the sentiment in mind for later and tomorrow’s race. He’d barely started typing his first reply when there was a knock at the door.

“Come in.” His deep voice boomed, hoping that whoever it was was not going to take up too much of his time. Spare time was precious during race weekends and he was seldom left alone as Team Principal.

Luckily it was just his assistant coming in with coffee and a small box.

“Good morning boss,” she said, setting his coffee and the box down in front of him.

“Morning,” he said wearily, curious what was in the box, “Thank you but what is this?”

She smiled, “You’ve had a special delivery.”

Toto sat upright, he didn’t normally get deliveries to the motorhome, “From who?”

His assistant grinned more, “A special lady. I’ll leave you to open it but let me know if you need anything.”

As she made her way out of the room, Toto picked up the box in his large hands, wondering what it could be. You had already slipped a Post-it note into his iPad case, so knowing you it was probably a gag gift set of indestructible headphones.

Carefully undoing it, he was pleasantly surprised to instead find a small stack of Post-its, concertinaed together. Inspecting the first one, there was the familiar looped handwriting.

“Good luck and don’t fuck it up.”

He smiled, rifling through a few more motivational quotes, a lewd drawing (of course you couldn’t resist) and one final message, scrawled in classic toddler handwriting.

“I love you, Daddy.” 

Toto melted at the delivery and knew that whatever happened this weekend he had you and your young son to come home to. Carefully gathering the Post-its up, he added them to his cardholder alongside the one he’d found earlier.

—

A few hours later, Toto was in the garage and things were not going well. The engineering team had gotten the set-up completely wrong and George was knocked out in Q1, Lewis barely scraping through into Q2. He tried to remember the positive messages from the morning and willed himself to keep his temper in check, his nostrils flaring dangerously as he looked around the garage.

Breathing deeply, he put his hand in the pocket of his Mercedes raincoat, knowing that he couldn’t throw anything from there. Strangely, he didn’t remember having anything in his pockets as he’d just had his uniform dry-cleaned so when he found a folded-up piece of paper, he pulled it out, curious.

It was of course another Post-it.

“Darth Toto returns duh duh duh. Don’t go to the dark side.”

He smiled, you were truly ridiculous, always calling him Darth Toto when he wore his long hooded raincoat. No one else ever dared to.

From his right shoulder came the curious voice of his reserve driver, Mick, “What’s that?” he asked, eyeing the Post-it curiously. 

“Oh, just a silly thing from my wife.” Toto said, still slightly grinning, “She writes me these messages on Post-it notes sometimes.”

Mick looked surprised but didn’t question further and Toto felt much better about the situation.

—

It was race day and Toto was in a horrible mood. He had woken up early to pack as he had to leave immediately after the race and was throwing his shoes into his suitcase angrily and haphazardly, knowing that it was virtually pointless as he’d need to repack in a few days anyway.

As he gathered up his toiletries, a small yellow square fell out of his leather toiletry bag, floating to the floor. Bending down to pick it up, he laughed, reading the message.

“Hey handsome, you look good today.”

Once again he shook his head in disbelief, you were unlike anyone he’d ever met. His bad mood evaporated and he carefully put the Post-it note in his cardholder with the others he had collected over the weekend, knowing that whatever happened today he would keep his temper in check, knowing he was going to see you later that evening when he returned home.

[blacknedsoul-blog]

An unnecessarily detailed analysis of the (re)encounter between Annabel and "Leo" (part II)

Evil tongues say I've had this shit in the oven for several weeks because I bought the fast pass on episode 105 and smoked the whole season one afternoon when I was bored as a fucking oyster about to climb the walls. Don't listen to them, they're telling the truth.

So, yeah, people. We had a flashback. One that comes right after the last one we had. Aside from the fact that we finally know a little more about Theo, I want to focus on the direct sequel to a review I did a while back. So let's get started.

I'm still trying to decide if Annabel is complaining just because she had to get off her ass or because "Leo's" room being so far away from hers is, ahem, inconvenient. Another detail that someone mentioned on the discord, is that Annabel does this thing where she grabs her dress when she is trying to maintain the performance.

(later edit: someone commented to me that actually their rooms are ridiculously close to each other. So allow me to insert ridiculous jokes about how the first thing Ira will do when these two are engaged is take his precious daughter who is not to be touched before marriage somewhere else).

...Ah, they put... they put Annabel in Lenore's old room. Yeah, that must have been uncomfortable as shit. 

Okay. This is something I kind of suspected in her first stolen moment at the Arboreum, but I think this confirms it for me: yes, Lenore teasing Annabel is a way of expressing annoyance without being directly hurtful. 

Raise your hand if you enjoy seeing "Miss Proper Lady" lose her fucking temper. Bonus points if she deserves it. 

Lenore, I don't know if taking your clothes off is the best way to get Annabel to stay on topic. I do want to emphasize her face in that moment, though, like she knows Annabel cares about her, but she's still angry at her, and pressuring her to drop the mask is literally the only way she has to express it. I like it because it's consistent with her stolen moment in the Arboreum. 

"Admire this magnificent door made of door. Yes, an excellent door. Wonderful door. Eyes on the door, Annabel, eyes on the door and not on your crush taking off his jacket in front of you. Also, don't think too much about the fact that if anyone sees this, everything that is important to you will fall apart".  

Pause. Where did we see Annabel say that? Ah, yes. Well, if we had any doubts about posh besties, this confirms it. 

I want to linger on the faces of both of them in this scene because, for the love of Nyarlathotep, they are painful to watch knowing that this will end with both dead. 

Yes, Annabel, this "perhabs" was very VERY serious. 

I'm sure this is the second time in Annabel's life that someone has asked her if she wants something. And it's the same person. Ouch.

Does anyone else in the squad find it disturbing that ANNABEL is concerned about moral issues? 

That's not how Kabedons are made, missy. 

LENORE, LOOK AT THE FUCKING FACE SHE'S LOOKING AT YOU WITH, SHE WOULDN'T BE "PRETENDING TO BE IN LOVE WITH YOU", SHE'S EATING OUT OF YOUR FUCKING HAND RIGHT NOW. IF SHE WASN'T AFRAID OF JAIL AND WASN'T SO VICTORIAN, SHE'D BE ASKING IF SHE COULD GET IN YOUR PANTS.   

Okey, I need to know how this went from "pff, it's not a real marriage, we're both women!" to "I'm gonna fuckin' whore myself with Nyarlathotep Tumblrsexymen to come get you, baby. Shit, if these two die without having this conversation, I'm going to shoot myself in the mouth with a medieval arquebus. 

I like this moment because it tells you two interesting things: one is that Annabel must have a complicated relationship with her father, she cares for him and maybe feels he loves her in his own way, but at the same time Ira is her jailer, the main culprit of the golden cage she's trapped in. Another thing: we know Lenore used to care about her father, but come on, after everything that happened, I doubt she gives the man a second thought. 

...I wrote practically the exact same dialog in a fanfic. Actually, in the first Nevermore fanfic I ever wrote, when the fuck did my bullshit ever come true? 

I was racking my brain for a while about why Annabel keeps doing this. Like, look at this shit, even Ada or Morella would be able to see that this is bullshit. And I think I have an idea why. 

I think Annabel started to figure out how to make this work even before she came in. Maybe she's not all in, but at least the idea is tempting. The thing is, she's putting a lot on the line here: her life, her relationship with her father (the only family member we know of), what little freedom she has.

And that means she has to put her chips on the right person. She knows how the social game works, she knows how to manipulate the stakes of her hand, maybe she even thinks she knows how to get around those pesky legal snags when they come up. 

But she's not cunning, she's not quick-thinking, she lacks determination, and she's definitely not brave. Lenore can wrap herself in big dreams and beautiful words all she wants, but if she can't make up for Annabel's weaknesses, it's a losing bet from the start. On top of that, she has to be able to read her: in Victorian engagements, even your pet was into that shit, so sneaking away to plan things would be more of a rare privilege than a constant, her playmate has to be able to understand her perfectly, because they can't waste valuable time explaining minutiae. They have to be on the same page to the millimeter. 

Annabel is a player. And as such, she knows that in games where you have a partner, the key to winning isn't playing your own cards or chips well, it's being able to synchronize with your partner to give each other better plays until one of you manages to win. 

And if I had to bet, I think that is the Lenore that Annabel wants back: the Lenore who can read her, the Lenore who can get under her skin and know her true intentions even when Annabel is wearing the most perfect mask. The Lenore who can smile boldly and tell her that everything will be all right. 

Of course, Lenore passed the test. With a more than perfect score. 

The chapter ends with Lenore giving Annabel the final decision: if she sees no reason to stay, she won't, and she can assure her that she'll be fine. But if she's in, she'll do everything in her power to make it work. 

This was the moment that tore me up inside because it made me drop the shingle of sad, sad shit. 

Conclusions

And here's why I decided to post this analysis after the season.  

One thing this episode told me was that I was wrong about one thing: the relationship between these two isn't exactly what it used to be. What this episode also told me was that, despite everything, the two of them seemed to be able to communicate and find common ground, to make deals, to give each other choices. Shit we don't see anymore in their time in Nevermore. 

And with good reason.

In Nevermore Annabel and Lenore are adrift. No memories, no identity, no bonds. As if that weren't enough, both are terrified: Annabel has built all her means of survival around a context that she masters perfectly, and in Nevermore she doesn't know what's going on; on the other hand, Lenore's bravery and cunning are qualities that turn from virtues to flaws in a context where every single one of her decisions has repercussions for the people around her; she's willing to take anything, but not what happens to the people she loves. 

These two idiots know only one thing: that they love each other. And for Annabel and Lenore, loving means protecting. They have to try to protect each other because they really love each other. They love each other so much that they can't.

Because the only way for Annabel to protect Lenore is to be the queen of the board, to be the piece that everyone wants to get out of the way because her presence is too much of an inconvenience, because if she's good at anything,  it's dazzling so hard that no one is able to really see her. On the other hand, the only place Lenore can protect Annabel is by her side, she won't have a Spectre, but she's willing to do what it takes to take care of her if she stays where she can fight for her. 

But that won't happen because of the irreconcilable conflict caused by the memory (false or not, in practice it doesn't matter) that the Deans showed Annabel. She can't tell her that, she won't tell her that, how could she? It would tear Lenore apart and at worst alter her memories. But on the other hand, Lenore obviously wants to know, because she sees that Annabel is suffering, she wants to be there, she wants her to let her comfort her, to be by her side to help her sort this out, and all her pleas fall on deaf ears for reasons she can't even fathom.

But without realizing it, in all this devotion and accompanying fear, Annabel and Lenore are repeating the same controlling patterns of those who tried to save the other in life. 

Annabel is doing the same thing Thaddeus did when he got Lenore a fiancé, the same thing the doctors did when they kept her drugged 24/7 as a treatment even though she was sick, dare I say the same thing Theo did: assuming she knows better than she does what's good for her. "Protecting" her, even when that happens to be the agency Lenore is desperately trying to have over her life after being deprived of her freedom.

And on the other hand...this.

By taking full responsibility for what happened, Lenore is doing the same thing as Ira and all the people we meet in Annabel's life: denying her agency as an individual. Annabel is not a naive brat who was seduced by sweet words, she is a grown woman who was very, very clear about what the risks were. That they both ended up dead is partly her fault, but by turning this affair into "if I hadn't gone looking for you," Lenore completely invalidates Annabel's feelings, desires, and choices. 

A relationship that was once built on respect for choice and shared decision-making has now become a power game that neither can win, because one of the most important foundations of their relationship is that they are both equals. 

I'd like to end this on a more positive note, but...uh...well, the thing is, I don't. Like, that they're going to reconcile, they're going to reconcile, you know? But for that to happen, somebody's got to give them a massive punch like, something that tears them apart so they realize how fucking bad they are do-

You know what? Yeah, that might do it.

[inuyashaluver]

leah williamson:

reader and leah arguing who is taking who’s last name when they get married

petty arguments - leah williamson

leah williamson x reader

description: in which you and your fiancé, leah argue about who’s last name each other will take, depending on your teammates to settle the argument

warnings: swearing, slight angst

a/n: hiii!! thank you so much for this request, this was extremely fun to write, hope you enjoy! 🫶

⋆ ★ ⋆ ★ ⋆ ★ ⋆ ★ ⋆

your fiancé, leah williamson proposed to you after the lionesses won the euros. after the win, you collapsed on your knees, sobbing, getting pulled up beth, she told you to look up at the big screen.

“(y/n) (y/l/n), will you marry me?”

your hands cover your face in shock, crying even harder and you turn around to see your special blondie on one knee, looking up at you, tearfully smiling.

“make me even happier than you already do, baby, marry me?”

“yes!”

she stands up, putting the ring on, pulling you into a searing kiss and hoisting you up on her waist. you hug her tightly, whispering in her ear, telling her how much you love her.

the crowd erupted and cried even harder that their favourite couple was now engaged.

the team ran up and piled on top of both of you, confetti surrounding all of you. everyone got up excitedly to go and meet their families. you and leah staying on the ground making ‘snow angels’ within the confetti, looking at each other full of love.

down the track, you and leah never discussed fine details of your wedding. so busy with the upcoming season, but also just wanting to relish in the love rather than the finer details. both of you thought you were on the same page. oh boy, if only both of you knew.

-much later-

“I can’t fucking believe you, I can’t even look at you right now” leah slammed the car door,

“leah cathrine williamson! you are being so ridiculous right now, I can’t believe you!” you exclaimed, chasing after her after slamming your own door in response.

the team was playing music in the lioness changing room getting ready for training. relaxing and enjoying each other’s company. well, until you and leah came crashing in.

“don’t talk to me right now, (y/n), I’m fucking furious”

“and you think I’m not! you’re fucking ridiculous, leah! this is absolute bullshit.”

millie and mary were the standing the closest to both of you, each of them grabbing one of you, slightly pulling you apart.

“woah! first name basis for both of you, smitten kittens” millie says, looking between both of you. ella and alessia let out a small chuckle, stopping immediately when you and leah both glare at them.

“leah, you’re the captain, love. I’d ask you to be the peace maker but you’re kinda disrupting the peace.” millie laughs at her own joke and you try not to crack a smile

“wipe that fucking smile off your face right now, (y/n) or so help me-”

“both of you shut the fuck up! what’s wrong?”

“tell her, leah, go on” you tilt your head at her,

“no.” she glared at you

“see! because you know it’s stupid!”

“it is not!”

“enough! (y/n) (y/l/n), you tell us what’s going on right now.” millie nudges you, you look at someone for comfort. lucy nods at you, encouraging you to speak.

“well, leah and I had a little disagreement-”

“yeah, little” ella mutters, alessia slaps her hard on the arm and you let out a little laugh, leah trying to hold in her own, clearing her throat.

“we-” you pause “we don’t know who’s last name to take when we get married” you exhale, looking at the floor and shifting your weight between your legs.

“are you having a laugh?” millie yells. she really yelled.

you flinch and leah instinctively went to go and protect you. stopping in place realising the reality of the situation.

“it’s a big deal!” leah exclaims and the whole team groans,

“nah, I’m not having this. training. now.” leah storms out. you immediately go to follow her.

everyone, under captain's orders began to warm up. you keep slight distance between you and leah. sending yearning gazes at her the entire time. little did you know she was doing the same. both of you were pouting. miserable that you’re arguing.

the team was doing laps around the field, leah running alone right at the front. you sprint to catch up with her.

“hi” you exhale, finally reaching her, she looks down at you next to her and immediately looks back to her front.

“hey” you smile and move closer to her,

“speaking to me now, huh? you can’t resist me” she tries incredibly hard to contain her smile. you grin harder seeing her fighting her emotions.

“I don’t want to fight anymore, baby, please” leah perks up at your term of endearment, your argument clearly diminished.

“oh thank god.” she breathes out.

you both stop in place and the team continues to run past. not wanting to interrupt you. even sarina taking the hint.

“baby, I just wish you would understand what I’m trying to say to you.” leah pleaded, pouting at you and grabbing your hand in hers, rubbing her thumb over your knuckles.

“love, you’re not listening to me either,” you softly smile at her,

“let’s both try this again, hm?” leah said smiling, you nod at her.

“I want nothing more than to be a williamson, love, ever since we started dating.” leah’s heart swelled at your confession,

“but, baby, I feel the same, what? you think I won’t suit (y/l/n)?”

“you suit everything, are you joking?” she laughs and lightly pushes your shoulder.

“I just think we should be the williamsons”

“but we can be (y/l/n)s” she nodded at you “huh, huh?” she smiles,

“we’re never going to settle this” you pinch your nose bridge.

“stay here, baby, I’ll be right back” she grabbed your face in between her hands, giving you a sweet peck before running off to the change rooms. she comes back to you with two jerseys in her hand. yours and hers.

the team was now doing team drills, looking back and forth between you and leah, concerned. you both hardly ever fought. you were very big on communication and everyone was surprised the argument was happening in the first place.

leah grabbed the hem of your shirt, sliding her hands on your waist and taking of your training top, leaving you just in your sports bra.

“woah! take me out to dinner first, missy!”

she gives you a quick kiss again and you whine when she pulls you away, she raises her eyebrow at you,

“when we get home”

she puts her jersey on you, slightly too long on your figure. in return, she quickly takes off her own, smirking when you whistle at her abs, lightly grazing your fingers on them until she shrugs on your jersey.

she grabs your hand and pulls you over to where the rest of the team was.

“girls! team meeting!” she yells, everyone immediately rounds up, looking at their captain expectedly, excited to see your close contact but containing it.

leah grabs your shoulders turning you around before turning around herself.

“which last name suits better?” leah questions, she misses the mocking smiles occurring behind her.

light chatter occurs, leah grabs your hand again and plays around with your fingers, you move closer to her and rest your head on her shoulder. you both heard giggling behind you but chose to just enjoy the moment in solitude together.

“I like williamson better!” alessia shouts, “nah, less, you’ve got it all wrong! (y/l/n) is so much better” ella rebuttals. now, the entire lioness team including the staff and sarina was arguing like you were this morning.

you and leah look at each other in horror. “what have we done?” leah says looking down at you, moving to rest her head in your neck, arms around your waist while you gently scratch her back with your nails.

“right! enough!” leah yells, moving from you. she claps her hands together and everyone looks at her for the big decision, “this didn’t help so let’s just drop it”

maya, the sweetheart put her hand up and you and leah smile, “go ahead mai”

“why don’t you both take each name? (y/l/n)-williamson or something?” everyone but you and leah made noises of agreement, clapping maya on the back for her genius thought.

you and leah look at each other, mouths open.

“you’re telling me, you didn’t think of that” maya asks.

“um” you started, “no” leah finished and you lightly slap her arm. everyone bursts out in laughter. to escape it, leah picks you up bridal style and runs around the field, you scream in enjoyment. everyone watches you with big grins, they loved seeing the both of you so happy, a complete turn around from this morning.

the petty arguments between you two were truly for nothing. you both finally settled on a last name that you were both apart of, you both couldn’t be happier.

⋆ ★ ⋆ ★ ⋆ ★ ⋆ ★ ⋆

you know the drill - just imagine it’s you 🤭

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[mixtape-racha]

heaven is a place on earth | lee minho

watching you go through a rough breakup was hard enough for minho, regardless of the fact he was in love with you. now it was up to him to make you feel better // 18+ minors dni

words: 5.24k // warnings: best friend!minho x fem!reader, ex boyfriend!lee juyeon (mentioned), minho calls reader bub, reader calls minho bunny/bun, unprotected sex, drinking, brief mentions of recreational drugs, cursing, creampie, praise

minho couldn’t help but roll his eyes as you threw your phone down on the bed for what felt like the hundredth time in the last hour. why were you so hung up on this? it was literally just boy problems - you never gave a fuck before.

but at the same time – he got it. you were with this guy for 2 years, and all of a sudden he ended things just because (in his words) something “better” came along. what bullshit. there was no way his newest fuck of the season would ever compare to you.

it was a very conflicting situation for him. on one hand he wanted to tell you to pull yourself together, pour some shots and go get fucking blasted. but, at the same time, he wanted to wrap you up in blankets with ice cream, and cuddle you while you cried to shitty y2k movies.

it was complicated for him, so he could only imagine how you felt.

but as you let out another over-exaggerated sigh, he decided he’d had enough.

“(y/n), i swear to fuck if you sigh one more time i’m shoving a harmonica down your throat so i can at least get some entertainment out of it.”

looking up at you from the sofa bed tucked in the corner of your room, he was met with your flushed face - a huge pout adorned your lips and your eyes were watery and bloodshot. you looked awful.

for a moment he felt bad, but when he saw your eyes dart back down to your phone at the sound of a notification, all sympathy was lost. he lifted himself off the sofa, and snatched your phone away before you could pick up on what he was doing.

“minho! what the fuck?!” you cried, launching a cushion at him which he expertly dodged - this was far from the first time you’d tried to take him out with a pillow.

“no,” stuffing your phone in his pocket, he crossed his arms and glared at you in a way that had you looking away in embarrassment. “i didn’t come over to watch you wallow in self pity and pray that juyeon will call you and beg to take you back.”

as harsh as it was, you realized he was right. it wasn’t fair to have him over and not even pay attention to him. clearly, juyeon was over your relationship the second he ended it - all he’d been doing was going to parties and staying out all night with a new girl attached to his hip each time. and what were you doing? laying in bed with cookie dough ice cream and enough depressing romance movies to stock a video store.

it was with that realization that the tears started again - but at that point you were so used to them that you didn’t even notice. but minho did. minho always noticed. flopping next to you on your bed, he scooped you into a hug and began stroking your hair - it was a habit he’d had since the two of you were children, and one you much appreciated now.

“how about we check out changbin’s party tonight, hmm? we need to get you out of the house, but we can leave the party as soon as you want, yeah?” he suggested, fingers gracefully gliding between locks of your hair, and you nodded.

“okay, min… thank you.”

-- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- –

‘thank you’ his fucking ass. 

you’d only been at the party half an hour before you disappeared from minho’s side, and 20 minutes later he still couldn’t find you. sure, changbin’s parents had a big house, but this was fucking ridiculous.

last thing he knew, you were downing shots with felix. before that, playing beer pong with jisung, changbin and chan. hyunjin mentioned that you had stolen his drink not long before that. but now no-one knew where you’d gone - and honestly, most of them were too fucked up to care.

every time he thought he saw the back of your head, it appeared to be a completely different person. every time he heard giggling with one of your friends, it was a random girl who happened to have your hair color.

he had no idea where you’d disappeared to, and he was getting close to rounding up a damn search party.

until he saw juyeon laughing with his friends, and suddenly he knew exactly where you were. he didn’t know why he didn’t think of it sooner.

everytime you’d all hang out at changbin’s house, ever since you were children, you’d always had a designated hiding spot. whether it was because jisung was telling a scary story, and seungmin had made you all watch a horror film, or even during a game of hide-and-seek. the closet next to changbin’s sister's room was always your hiding spot.

without much other thought, minho darted up the stairs and down the third hallway to the right. he almost had the pathway embedded in his mind at this point. he knew you were also extra sensitive when you’d been drinking, and seeing juyeon may have pushed you over the edge.

when he opened the closet door and looked down to see you on the floor, curled in a ball with your hands over your face, he felt like he was eight years old again.

“why are you crying? girls are so silly.” minho laughed, grinning down at your delicate form, clinging to one of changbin’s stuffed animals.

he liked annoying you - you were the only one who stood up to him and it made him laugh even more. it was funny, seeing a girl be more loud and argumentative than his other friends.

but he also understood why you were crying; chan promised that ‘the witches’ was a good movie - and it was, but it was also terrifying. deep down, minho was scared too, but he didn’t want the boys to laugh at him.

really, minho didn’t know how to cheer people up, especially girls. you were the first girl he was friends with. but he knew people found it funny when he teased, so he teased you all the time to take your mind off of whatever was making you sad or scaring you.

and more often than not - it worked.

“sh-shut up. girls aren’t silly. you’re silly for thinking that.” was all you could get out, tucking into yourself further and trying to shut out the round-faced boy laughing down at you.

you knew he didn’t really mean it, that he was just trying to wind you up. but the face of the big, scary grand high witch was stuck in your head no matter what you did, and you hated it.

he stood there in silence for a second, trying to comprehend whether your sniffles were fake or not, before deciding to be the nice, good boy that his mom always told her friends that he was.

he scooted into the closet, sitting beside you before hesitantly placing a small hand on your shoulder.

“girl’s are silly, but you’re not silly. you’re our (y/n), and we wouldn’t be friends with you if you were silly.” he tried, hoping his words would be comforting. which, luckily, they were.

you lifted your head to smile tearily at him, before pulling him into a bone-crushing hug.

“this is why you’re my favorite, min.”

he was always your favorite. he always had been, everyone knew it, and he probably always would be. but he was okay with that, because you were his favorite too.

almost instinctively, he crouched down, brushing your hair out of your face.

“you good, (y/n)?” he said softly, trying not to scare you with his voice.

you sniffled, wiping your nose on your sleeve before looking up at him with those big-doe eyes you often used to get your own way.

“he spoke to me like nothing had happened. like nothing we had mattered. can we please go?”

he nodded, holding his hands out to help you up before you could even finish your request. once you were stood, he shrugged off his jacket to wrap it around you and lead you downstairs towards the front door.

“are we not going to say goodbye?” you asked, brows furrowing as you looked over to where your friends were huddled in the kitchen.

but between the clouds of awful smelling smoke, and the hoards of people sharing baggies of pills and lines of powder, minho couldn’t bring himself to take you into the kitchen. not when you’d find juyeon in there too.

“i’ll message the group chat. c’mon, it’s supposed to rain in 10 minutes and i wanna get back to mine before that happens.” he decided, opting to help you out of the door instead.

he knew you were by no means drunk - you could handle your alcohol better than anyone he knew - but he was still worried about you. not only had you been drinking, been around weed, but you were also very emotionally fragile right now.

miraculously, it didn’t take long for the two of you to wind up at the entrance of minho’s dorm building, just managing to miss the rain as you climbed into the elevator up to the fifth floor. you stayed quiet the whole time, which only deepened minho’s worry and he internally cursed himself for suggesting a party of a host that juyeon was known to frequent.

you, on the other hand, were watching minho silently, trying to gauge his reactions. you knew that deep down he probably wanted to go back and give juyeon a piece of his mind - but he wasn’t a confrontational person so that was never going to happen. you could read minho like a book, and you could tell he was beating himself up for dragging you out, but honestly you could never bring yourself to be mad or upset with him.

so instead, you wrapped yourself around his arm and rubbed your cheek against his shoulder to grasp his attention.

“can i stay with you tonight? like– can we have a sleepover in your bed?” you mumbled, cheeks not hesitating to flush red at your choice of wording. you felt like a child again, asking minho to cuddle after seungmin made you watch chucky with him.

and just like that night all those years ago, minho couldn’t have agreed quicker. 

“of course, bub. we’ll stick a movie on and cuddle, yeah?” he grinned, ruffling your hair as he unlocked his front door. although he was roommates with jeongin and jisung, they had opted to stay at changbin’s tonight rather than come home drunk, so that was one less worry for him.

the second you were through the door, you peeled off your heels - your ankles were killing and you could guarantee you would have blisters the next morning. you knew they were a bad idea to begin with, but they were expensive and you had to get some use out of them before writing them off.

suddenly you felt a lot smaller than minho, falling a few paces behind him as he walked towards his bedroom. obviously, you were - at least a few inches - shorter than him, but you’d never noticed it so much, and it had never had your stomach clenching the way it currently was. god, you had definitely drunk too much.

but nonetheless, you followed behind him like a lost puppy as he rooted around in his drawers for a shirt and some boxers for you to sleep in like he always did. sleepovers for the pair of you were like routine, except you didn’t normally insist he sleep beside you, even when you’d been drinking.

he disappeared to the kitchen to get you both water bottles and pain killers for when you woke up, as well as a peach iced tea for himself and a cherry pepsi for you - you always had a bottle each when you watched a movie together. you quickly changed while he was out of the room, before joining him to choose a snack before bed.

“got any cheese puffs left?” you asked, nudging him as he rooted through his snack cupboard, pouting when he shook his head.

“pretty sure you and ji finished them last smoke sesh. i have pringles though?”

“oh, fuck yeah,” you giggled. “i’m calling dibs on the salt and vinegar ones.”

minho chuckled, passing you the tube. “i bought them for you anyway, you fucking sicko.”

it was an ongoing joke between the pair of you that the other had awful taste in crisps. you liked salt and vinegar, minho liked prawn cocktail, and you both detested the others choice in flavor. it was so much of a running joke that last time minho tried to open a pack of prawn cocktail crisps in your apartment, you locked him in the hallway until he’d finished them.

giggling at each other, and softly shoving each other in your own little world, somehow you managed to make it back to his room and curl up under his duvet, some - in his words - shitty little romcom on tv.

“hey, don’t diss twilight like that. i love these movies.” you pouted, flicking his forehead and grinning when he winced.

“okay, okay, sorry. makes sense though. you do have an awful taste in movies.” he muttered through a mouthful of crisps, poking your side to make you jump.

“dickhead.” you smiled, cuddling further into his side, the buzz of the alcohol slowly wearing off. but nonetheless, you stayed wrapped in your best friend’s arms as the movies continued playing and sleep began to befall you.

you didn’t know when you both had fallen asleep, but when you checked your phone the dimly lit screen told you it was 4am. you squirmed out of minho’s unnaturally tight grip, desperate to get some water but unable to find your bottle in the darkness of his room.

but no matter how hard you tried, his hands wouldn’t leave their grip on your - well, his - shirt. and fuck, did he just whimper? was he that desperate for you to stay curled up in his arms all night? that might have been the cutest thing you’d ever fucking heard.

so naturally, you gave up on the idea of water, opting to get straight back into your previous position, reveling in minho’s vulnerable state where he was actually willing to show you unlimited affection.

but…oh.

sure, you knew minho was a guy and he didn’t have control over it, but did he have a fucking boner? you didn’t know what to do. should you ignore it? should you wake him? should you leave and sleep on the couch?

you opted to gently nudge his shoulder, whispering to him softly.

“min, wake up. minnie, c’mon. wake up, bunny.”

a pout adorned his lips, and small whimpers kept falling until his eyebrows furrowed and his eyes opened lazily. maybe this wasn’t a good idea, because he looked really annoyed.

“what, fuckface?”

oh god. his voice was all raspy, and his eyes were still practically glazed over with sleep. why were you finding it cute?

“uh…” you didn’t know how to approach this, you were like a deer in headlights. “i think that– uhm… minho you’ve got a fucking boner and its all i can feel right now.”

curse your fucking word vomit. but minho’s cheeks flushed scarlet and he shot up, pushing you across the bed in the process.

“oh shit, i’m so sorry, (y/n)!”

why was he so upset? it was natural, and yeah a little uncomfortable, but you weren’t about to hate him for it.

“it’s fine, min. do you want me to go sleep on the couch so you can… uhm…” you gestured vaguely with your hands, both of you avoiding eye contact desperately.

“i love you, but there’s no fucking way i’ll be able to get off knowing you’re in my living room and know what i’m doing.”

minho’s first lie of the evening. honestly, the idea of you hearing him get off was wildly attractive to him, but he couldn’t admit that to you, could he? you were his best friend for crying out loud. and you were hurting tenfold from seeing juyeon so fresh after your breakup. he couldn’t think like that.

but you took his comment in your stride as always, rolling your eyes playfully and huffing.

“puh-lease,” you grinned, accentuating your words. “we both know that me hearing you get off would be the most action you’ve got in a while. you’re basically celibate.” you couldn’t help but giggle at yourself, especially with the way minho’s face twisted.

“whatever, loser. i could be the best fuck of your life and you wouldn’t even know it.”

oh. well, that sparked an idea in your head. you both loved teasing and pushing each other, and with your proximity and minho’s current predicament - why not see how far you could push it after all?

“oh, yeah? why don’t you put your money where your mouth is, lee minho.” you wiggled your eyebrows suggestively, grin ever growing as you watched the realization drop over minho’s face.

“what the fu– (y/n) did you just ask me to fuck you?” he looked bewildered, and honestly - he was. were you still drunk? was the breakup affecting you that much? …were you, like, mentally okay?

but you simply shrugged, moving to sit on your knees opposite your best friend. sure, it was a reckless move, but you would’ve been blind if you hadn;t picked up on the way minho treats you, and looks at you. friends don’t act the way he does towards you.

and honestly, you were single now, so what was stopping you? your mom always commented on how much juyeon looked like minho, and how you were projecting, but could she have been right? they were pretty similar after all, looks and personality wise, so was she that far from the truth?

were you so torn up about losing juyeon because it was the closest you’d get to dating someone like minho, or even your best friend himself?

you guessed it wasn’t just minho putting his money where his mouth was.

taking a deep breath, you shrugged at the boy opposite you again. “i guess i did. you said you could be the best fuck of my life? prove it. or are you all talk, hmm?”

what you weren’t expecting, however, was for him to be completely and utterly confused.

“are you– are you still drunk? what are you talking about? you’re still getting over juyeon, (y/n), i can’t fuck you while you’re out of it like that, and i’m not allowing myself to just be a rebound for you.”

“just… be a rebound? min, have you thought about this before?”

the sincerity in your voice proved to minho that you weren’t drunk like he wanted to assume. he wanted an easy way out of this, one where he didn’t ruin your friendship and didn’t have to face you remembering your words the next day - especially if this was a one-time rebound, or worse, a mistake.

he sighed, running a hand through his hair and looking at you with those gorgeous cat-like eyes that you’d adored since you first met.

“yes. okay? yes, i have. i think about it a fucking lot, (y/n), okay? i think about fucking you senseless. but i also think about holding your hand, and taking you out, and looking after you when you’re sick and coming home to you after a rough day. is that good enough for you? can we please go to fucking sleep now?”

you were stunned.

absolutely, utterly and completely stunned. you never realized just how deeply minho may have wanted you. and you honestly weren’t expecting a dampness to form between your legs at his words - especially confusingly, you were more turned on at the domestic stuff. he really wanted that with you?

“but, min… why didn’t you say?”

“because you were with juyeon, (y/n). you were happy. you were in love. and i’m just your best friend, i couldn’t take that away from you just to get my feelings off my chest. are you going to sleep or not?”

you could tell he was embarrassed, he was never good at hiding that. you could also tell he wanted you to drop it, to forget what he said. he cherished you too much as a friend to lose you like this. but you wanted more.

you wanted to know everything. you wanted to understand what was going on inside his head. you wanted to fall for him the way he had fallen for you; and honestly you were already more than half way there.

it had always been minho, and it took 2 years with a shitty ex, a drunken meltdown, a sleepy boner and a heart wrenching confession for you to realize that. god, you were so stupid.

grasping his hands softly, you threw all common sense to the wind and went with what your heart and gut were pushing you towards. everything suddenly made sense, everyone thought you were together anyway. why not screw your courage to the sticking place? why not take a chance, a risk, of finally taking what - deep down - your heart had always wanted?

“minho,” you started softly. “please. make me fall for you so hard my breath gets swept away. make me miss you even when we’re together. make me need you like an antidote to the world’s worst poison. i want all of it. all of you.”

and while you had rendered him speechless many times over the course of your friendship, he was not expecting that in the slightest. unknowingly, he squeezed your hands, brows furrowing as his nose twitched (you didn’t call him bunn for no reason, after all). he looks down-right adorable.

but as your eyes wandered, taking in all his features, your mind quickly flipped. his predicament. the one that got you here. he was almost throbbing in his boxers, his tip leaking and staining his boxers so prettily at your words. did you really have that much control over him? it was the hottest thing you’d ever seen.

“let me prove it, hmm? how about i help you out, bunny?” you teased, eyes fixed on the spot between his legs, his cheeks heating at your suggestion.

“don’t fuck with me right now, bub, seriously. i’m not doing this if you’re not in your right mind. i couldn’t do that to you. please,” you could’ve sworn his eyes were glistening - with excitement or fear you weren’t sure. “i just– fuck i’ve needed you for so long i can’t have it ripped away from me.”

“i’m sure, min. i promise. i’m a hundred percent sure, more sure than i ever have been. i need you to fuck me silly, and make me yours.”

it was like a flip switched in his head, and his gaze hardened at the sight of you on your knees in front of him. so pliant, so willing. so needy.

“i’m gonna kiss you now, yeah?” he spoke softly, hands reaching out, itching to hold you in them. all it took was a simple nod from you, and he captured your lips with his own with so much heat that you felt like you were on fire.

had you reached heaven? you were almost sure you had with the way minho manhandled you onto his lap, your core mere inches away from his cock, and it had your heart doing backflips. just two thin pieces of material, keeping you from feeling all of him. your hands tangled in his hair as he began pressing hot kisses to your neck, long swipes with his tongue after his teeth pressed into the surface of your skin enough to make you hiss softly.

his hands were on your hips, a place they’d been many times before when he’d been comforting you, but this… this was so much better. this had an end goal with you collapsing into his arms, tired and spent. this had an end goal of you waking up next to him tomorrow, able to do it all again. because you were his, and you were damn sure he was yours.

you didn’t even notice you’d began grinding your core onto his until his fingers dug into your skin, halting you to a stop. he pulled away from your neck, already out of breath, and his pupils blown wide.

“don’t.” he hissed, his tone and the look on his face making you clench around nothing. “don’t do that, or i’ll bust in my pants. i don’t wanna be cumming anywhere but inside you, yeah?”

you keened at his words, a whine spilling from your lips. yeah, you wanted that. wanted that more than you needed to breathe. why were his words affecting you this much? you felt all fuzzy, all safe and warm. it was never like this with juyeon – it was all missionary, his face screwed up above you when he came as soon as you started to feel something, waiting until he fell asleep to pull out your favorite vibrator.

but minho… he was like magic. every touch had your skin lighting up, every kiss making your knees weak. he couldn’t be human, no ordinary man could do that. but you supposed he was no ordinary man. he was minho. your minho. he always had been, and he always would be. and you couldn’t be happier for realizing that.

you could’t help but pull miho’s hands off you, shushing his protests as you raised your hips to rid yourself of his shirt and boxers - now, unfortunately, soaked in your slick, his actions having more of an effect on you than you ever thought possible.

it took him a second to fully comprehend your actions, but he quickly scrambled to do the same. clearly, he’d been waiting a long time for this, and you were going to make him wait much longer. not when you needed him too.

his cock sprung free from its restraints, and it was like tunnel vision had taken over. it was… really pretty. not too long, but not too thick. a delicious blush of red coating his tip, but not angrily red. the drip of precum leaking making your core clench beautifully. and that curve… yeah, minho was going to make you scream, no doubt about it.

“like what you see?” he teased, and you rolled your eyes, flipping him off.

“would like it more if you were inside me, jackass.”

and before you knew it, he had you pinned underneath him, his grip on your wrists held either side of your head both too tight and not tight enough.

“don’t wind me up, bubs. not when i can leave you here begging for me to let you cum, yeah?”

his tone had you feeling like you were floating, your brows furrowing as your hips bucked - a silent beg for him to just hurry up and get on with it. he could be the brat tamer he needed to be, and that you desperately wanted, later but right now you just needed him to fuck you senseless.

“besides, i don’t really think you’re in a position to demand, are you?”

that was all it took for you to decide you needed him inside you right at that second. you unhooked your hand from his hold and reached down between your bodies, grasping his leaking cock gently. he hissed at the action, turning into a groan as you lead the tip to your folds - letting your wettess spread between the two fo you like wildfire.

“please, min. i need you to fuck me..” you whimpered, teasing his cock against your clit, and flinching at the stimulation.

“fuck,” he whispered, hips rocking on their own accord, your slick overwhelming all his senses. “okay, fuck, yeah, gonna ruin you, bub.”

he used your guidance to push his length into you gently, his head falling into the crook of your neck as he left out a moan at the way your walls fluttered around him. inching in slowly, you could’ve sworn you’d never felt so full. it was like heaven on earth.

when he finally bottomed out inside you, he pressed a searing kiss to your lips, one hand next to your hips to hold himself up, while the other was holding your face, his scent filling all of your senses at once.

he began rocking his hips gently as you let out a moan into his mouth, his tongue carressing yours in a way that had you ascending closer to an orgasm than any man had ever brought you. it was embarrassing, wasn’t it? he’d barely been inside you for a minute and you were desperate to coat his cock in your cum.

when your lips detatched, you both instinctively reached to plant sloppy kisses and bites against whatever skin you could reach. god, you wanted to be covered in him. wanted the world to know he’d taken ownership of you. wanted to do the same to him.

it was hot, and sticky, and sweaty, but it was perfect. minho’s cock dragging against your gummy walls, you clenching around him every time his teeth dug a little too deep into your shoulder. why hadn’t you done this sooner?

you could tell he was getting close when he wrapped a hand around your hips, fingers digging in as his thrusts began to get sloppy and unfocused. god, you hoped you had a bruise where he’d held you tomorrow. 

as you nipped at you lips, initiating another kiss, you reached your hand down between you to rub your clit in time with each stroke of his hips. you had to cum with him, you needed to. more than anything.

you felt your high approaching fast, your walls fluttering and clenching madly as he moaned and whined against you. his hips were quickly losing their pace, and you can he just wanted to cum and paint your walls with his seed. maybe he just needed some encouragement…

“c’mon, bun. make a mess in me, yeah? need to feel you cum inside me, bunny, please.” you begged, rubbing your clit faster, trying to bring yourself to release for him.

and miraculously, it worked. he thrusted a few more times, before his hips halted and you felt him drenching your insides white. every throb of him cock, every push of more cum leaving him. it sent you over the edge, your head throwing back as you cried out.

the way your walls tightened around him milked him dry, yet he pushed through the overstimulation so shallowly fuck you through your orgasm, which you greatfully appreicated.

once you had both taken a moment to catch your breath, he began peppering your face with sift kisses to take your mind away from the sting of him pulling his softening cock from your hole.

“did so well, bubs,” he muttered, accentuating each word with a kiss. “so, so proud of you. took me so well, baby.”

your heart soared, eyes tearing up slightly which took him by surprise. you shushed down his questions quickly, because you were more than okay. in fact, you’d never been better.

“i just– i love you. i love you so much, lee minho.”

“i love you too.”

taglist: join taglist here @pretty-racha @chubbyanarkiss @taeriffic @mits-vi @chanssmiles @5kayzee @bunniieesstuff @torixx80

[mozzaicynth]

one thought everyday and its just the amazing world of gumball especially these three freaks (doodles + some headcanons below :3)

mr small -

my interpretation of small becoming more mellowed out in the future seasons as opposed to season 1 is him managing his anger in a more healthier way (meditation, etc) (plus i think all those herbal infusions are incredibly effective on the nerves) . that being said i think he still has underlying anger issues and lashes out if prompted too much . another reason hes nicer and more of a pushover in the later seasons is because i like to think hes guilty of his plethora of outbursts earlier on, especially towards students (unwarranted shouting which as a school counsellor he should know is pretty harmful on younger kids) . the fact that he tries to offer his help when its absolutely not needed so many times later on in the show further makes me like to think he’s making up for it all

hes also so autistic to me hes on the spectrum you cant tell me otherwise and i think hes pretty awkward and considered strange by the whole town (which is saying a lot for elmore standards) . still super friendly and approachable but he also cant take hints and he definitely stims (and has special interests, alternative medicine are you kidding)

his music taste i love to think is all over the place … i get the general consensus is he listens to mystic chants and sitar music but he definitely listens to more, ranging from pop to indie to rock to metal (this may or may not have become an idea when i was listening to ‘darts by soad and associated it with him,) . also what with his stupid little self funded album that is such a jarring listen ‘cause of all the ridiculous genre changes

i think he crochets/macrames as a hobby along with other diy stuff (most of the decorative items in his home crafted by him) making him, surprisingly considering how incompetent he is sometimes, super crafty/handy .

larry -

larry is a great person: incredibly intelligent, he’s very knowledgable on a plethora of subjects and he has a big heart, holding little to no virtriol against the people of elmore (except the wattersons but that is SO warranted) . thus i like to imagine he did great in school, moved on to do so wonderfully in uni whilst juggling jobs and his studies but after graduation was left stuck (alike so many people nowadays) . neither small or larry came from well off families but i think for larry he didn’t have much of a support system anyway so currently he overworks and works and works just to catch up on the student debt whilst simultaneously paying his taxes (i still think about that episode all the time fuck the police . big pink son of a bitch), loans and not to mention the bare minimum to keep himself alive

he’s a very sweet and kind person but anyone under the immense stress that he’s under would be irritable and temperate (he deserves to be more angry imo) and i whilst he has so many jobs he always aims to excel at all of them, having an incredibly particular way that tasks must be done and having them organised . because of this, he can be a lot more temperate when interacting with coworkers, especially those who don’t do their job as well, having to take matters into his own hands . as he and karen (his girlfriend throughout the series) share some jobs it puts a strain on their relationship (which was built off of the mutual ‘having several jobs’) and they break up .

even so, though larry consistently tries to propose to her in the show, in “the laziest” he doesn’t seem to be happy nor comfortable at all with the prospects of marrying her . in fact, even when he’s achieved the ‘american dream’ (properties like a house and car and a family (his girlfriend soon to be wife)) he’s unhappy . personally i don’t think he knows what he wants to do with himself ; he works all day and night and has little to no time for himself to even think in peace that the only purpose he knows is work .

i like to think he used to be an artist; self taught, it was a hobby and an enjoyment but his studies and his work took over so his one form of self expression was squeezed out of his life .. (i like making their lives as bleak as possible soz ! 🙏) he still admires the arts and i think that’s another reason he likes steve so much; his handcrafts and mini projects .

steve and larry are two opposites that are similar in ways .. but i love their dynamic so much . my interpretation of them is that steve will help larry balance out his life slightly better to leave room for himself instead of working 24/7 . steve has his head in the clouds and larry grounds him, and larry is so stuck in his ways with work that steve pulls him out of it slightly, lifting him up a little higher (AUGHHHGHH I HATE THEM I HATE THEM

as for their relationship with rob, im very much a stevelmeyer adoption truther !! both larry and steve coming from dysfunctional families, they aim to help rob and take care of him to the best of their abilities . further, larry taking on taking care of rob gives him direction in his life again . 😁😁😁😁😁😁

this isnt gonna be the last post headcanon/idea wise i still think of them 24/7 but heres jus SOME things .. (im such a yapper sprry not sorry !) :3c

[prince-liest]

In the future, once the hotel gets big and garners more interest, I could imagine the Vees making "knock-off" redemption hotels. "Trust us! With your salvation." Cue increasing distrust in the concept

Oh my god, I love this. I actually, genuinely hope that this happens in canon in later seasons because it just seems to be so incredibly in-line with the Vees' MO to literally capitalize on the newest trend to sell people their own salvation. Also super thematic with Vox's possible original/old backstory of having been a televangelist!

I actually think that the problem this would most likely initially cause is less people distrusting the concept, and more the Vees being able to sell it better and thus stealing business from the hotel even though who knows if they have any idea how to actually redeem people. The process apparently involves death, after all. Maybe they're just knocking people off permanently! It's not like there's any way to tell - fuck, maybe they make up a "contact" up in heaven and mock up fake "post-redemption" video proof showing that their concept works as part of the sales pitch.

The thing about the Vees is that even though we know they're deeply untrustworthy, the show for the most part seems to show us that they're extremely successful in their business and in getting people to buy what they're selling. People are absolutely clamoring to get one of VoxTek's new spy drones in Vox's intro, for example. I genuinely think it seems like an extremely on-point plot point to have the Vees end up in direct competition for selling redemption, especially when they have many more resources in the form of manpower and advertising to make their own operation look glamorous and appealing compared to the Hazbin Hotel (possibly even post-renovation).

And only after they become massively successful and earn a ridiculous amount of money off of the concept would the whole thing collapse. Charlie wouldn't have real incentive to stop them at first, would she? She tends to give people the benefit of the doubt. If they're genuinely redeeming people, well - it would make her a bad person to get in the way of that, no matter how much Alastor seethes about Vox stepping in on his turf, or how vaguely uncomfortable Angel Dust is with the concept. But once the whole secret gets blown wide open and Charlie & Co save the day... if it comes out that VoxTek has been murdering people rather than saving them... even though Charlie is the one who put a stop to it all...

Then, yes. If people can't trust VoxTek ("Trust us!") with their redemption, then why in the world would they trust Charlie's slapdash operation?

[itsclydebitches]

I need more time to put my thoughts in order about tonight's episode, but my initial reaction is that I'm surprised by others' disappointment? I mean, I'm actually not that surprised because coming out stories are intensely personal with viewers all looking for/needing vastly different things from their media, but it just feels like a lot of what (I thought) Ted Lasso was trying to do has gotten lost under specific expectations.

Ted goes off on a long, ridiculous, borderline disgusting story at the worst possible moment? Yes, that's the point. For all my fun TedTrent theories, Ted is (currently) serving the role of the well-meaning, but often ignorant straight man. His function is to both provide the insight and warmth that he's known for - "Actually it does matter to us" - while simultaneously showing how this intensely heteronormative culture would react to a player coming out. AKA messily. If we got a perfect scenario where everyone was accepting and said exactly the right thing, that would undermine the problems the show is trying to acknowledge in the first place. The focus on Isaac's complicated anger and Ted's foot-in-mouth syndrome is just as important to this whole scenario as the club's overall acceptance and the fact that Ted immediately realizes that he fucked up: "I regret that." Ted Lasso is a feel-good comedy, so it's all couched in over-the-top humor, but I thought that was an important acknowledgement: your allies - straight or not, out or not - are likely going to react in cringe-worthy, imperfect ways and the important takeaway there is not that they're irredeemable people who don't love you, but that they're trying and you should gently correct them (as Colin does) and allow them to grow (as Ted does). Despite being an absurd fiction, Ted Lasso is working to write about this in a semi-realistic sense. Instead of a Perfect Coming Out Moment that makes all the queer fans (myself included!) squeal at how ~wonderful~ our beloved cast is for being oh so perfect, we get that realistic awkwardness, misplaced anger, and regret.

We cut away from Colin coming out? Yes, because he's already come out to us. I understand why fans would be disappointed in that, but I don't think it's fair to characterize the show as not allowing Colin to come out at all. That was the entirety of "Sunflowers." Rather than trying to fit Colin's big moment into a locker room halftime, the writers crafted a whole episode where he could grapple with that fear of being outed, be reassured, have a heart-to-heart with Trent, sit together on the monument, go out later in celebration... Ted Lasso made space for all that and, understandably to my mind, didn't want to rehash many of those same beats three episodes later, especially not when we need time to work through the intersection of Colin's story with everyone else. (Because despite this being a queer story-line about a queer man, the show is about the team. Colin's conflict was always going to expand into the rest of the cast.) No, we don't get to see Colin come out specifically to the others, but we did see him come out - both narratively by kissing a man and to Trent - and we see the team's reaction immediately after the fact. Making space for Issac didn't feel like it was cheating Colin to me, or focusing too much on the straight characters, because Colin's story has been a season in the making (plus some details earlier on). To say nothing of the fact that his hesitance about coming out is specifically because he fears the team's reaction... so why wouldn't we grapple with Isaac's negative reaction? We already know Colin's worries, we know what he wants, we see him seeking advice from Trent, we see him reaching out to Issac, we see that failing, and after all that his queer story-line is functionally at a stand-still until something else gives. Issac's explosion is what finally tips the scales.

Idk I don't think I'm explaining this very well because it's late and I only just watched, but I'm of the opinion that Ted Lasso did a lot of work in previous episodes so that they'd have space in this episode to do different work, which is smart. From a narrative perspective, Ted doesn't need to be the perfect ally because Colin already has a supportive queer mentor. "La Locker Room Aux Folles" doesn't need to try to balance Colin's emotional coming out with Isaac's internalized homophobia because "Sunflowers" already gave the audience so, so much, allowing the writers to both keep things on screen for our benefit and then later cut away for the sake of time. As said, stories like these are always going to be a hit-or-miss depending on what each individual fan wants and needs, but I think it's worth keeping in mind that Colin's story is not this single episode; it's all of them combined. Has Ted Lasso really not treated his journey respectfully... or did it just not try to check every queer story-line box in a single episode?

[venus-haze]

Homelander x Supervillain!Reader Headcanons

Note: Mildly fem-coded reader, but no other descriptors are used. This is mostly from Homelander's perspective. I always thought it was interesting how apart from the "superterrorist" arc in season one (and into season two), supervillains aren't really a thing in The Boys universe, pretty much everyone with superpowers is affiliated with Vought.

Warnings: Violence, some mentions of sex, Homelander being Homelander. Do not interact if you’re under 18 or post thinspo/ED content.

Your powers emerge later in life, so you aren’t one of the many lauded child prodigies who accidentally burned down their own birthday parties or took out a school bus, but almost as soon as you spit at a cat-caller and the side of his car melted from the acid, Vought had its eye on you

Unfortunately for them, you aren’t interested in the slightest. The money’s good, but signing your life away to a mysterious corporation was never in the cards for you. Why let a bunch of suits call the shots when you were the one with powers? Pretty soon you’re melting bank vaults, wreaking general havoc, and living on the run. You love every minute of it

Homelander knows he can take you on, but to his shock and fury, he finds himself in a meeting with Stilwell and the marketing team who tell him that having a supervillain “arch-enemy” would further mythologize him. As much as people love having someone to root for, they’re just as intrigued by the evil thing that goes bump in the night. Besides, you mostly damage property, not people, so they figure you’re not too much of a threat to the general public

He thinks it’s ridiculous, not letting him laser you in half or snap your neck makes him look weak, or even worse, that you’re as strong as he is. The first time he takes you on, you spit at him as a Hail Mary, and to both of your shock, he hisses in pain and his skin blisters–comparatively mild to the outright bone-melting your toxin was capable of, but it cements your space in his mind as his arch-enemy

To his frustration, the suits at Vought are right, social media posts that mention you in regard to Homelander get a lot of engagement and the general public sees him even more as an otherworldly protector figure

You don’t have a supe name, but Vought dubs you ‘Rosethorn’ because you’re “beautiful yet deadly.” They slap your face on comic books that fly off the shelves. You find it ironic that Vought still finds a way to make money off of you despite your refusal to work with them

Homelander isn’t nearly as amused. The first time he sees one of the Homelander Vs. Rosethorn comics he sees red. “More like thorn in my fucking side,” he growls at the cartoonified version of you. He resents you for taking half of his spotlight, but part of him knows his resentment comes from the fact that you don’t have to answer to anyone. You do whatever the hell you want, and some people regard you as a kind of anti-hero rather than an outright villain. He doesn’t understand, you’re a criminal. You rob, cheat, and steal, and just because you hand out fistfuls of dollars every once in a while, you’re turned into some kind of underground folk hero? 

Social media is buzzing with theories that you’re actually a Vought plant to make Homelander look good or that you’re stronger than him and holding back. Naturally, people begin shipping you because of course they do. He has mixed feelings the first time he sees #Roselander trending on Twitter. It doesn’t help that sometimes you leave notes at your crimes scenes that read ‘Give Homelander my regards, XO’ 

Despite the internet frenzy and Vought marketing, you and Homelander have only been face to face a few times following the first encounter, each one giving more fuel to Homelander’s fire as he broods, stewing in his resentment toward you. You laugh at him, taunt him, literally spit at him, and he can’t do shit because Vought says not to

He definitely fantasizes about hate-fucking you, they’re all extremely deranged and elaborate. Overall, he has a lot of really complicated emotions when it comes to you. There’s some underlying affection that he’ll deny to anyone who asks. Sometimes he lets his mind wander, and in the ideal situation you’d reform and join Vought and–who the fuck is he kidding, part of him wants to break the invisible chain that keeps him tethered to Vought and see if the grass is really greener on the other side

Homelander decides he’s going to end your reign of terror once and for all when Vought indicates they want supes in the military. They now think your existence is just one of the barriers standing in the way of that, making the other Vought supes, but especially him look weak and incapable. With you out of the way, it’ll show their supes can handle military missions

Easier said than done, because when he finally corners you, ready to laser you in half like he should have all those years ago, he hesitates, and that’s all it takes for you to pounce

“Why do you let them tell you what to do? You’re stronger than them. Why do they call the shots?” you ask, and he doesn’t miss the conniving ass twinkle in your eye. He knows what you’re doing, and his gloved fists ball up at his side as everything in him screams to just kill you already. He knows you’re right. He’s the one with the real power, but he lets them order him around like a dog

“Shut the fuck up,” he hisses through clenched teeth that he wishes were clamped around your throat–except he doesn’t, not really. You’re giving him an out, but he can’t take it, he’s too afraid to. After all, who is he if he’s not The Homelander?

You give him a sad smile, the kind old friends give to each other in movies when they see each other for the last time. He lets out a shaky breath. He won’t miss you. He won’t even think about you once Madelyn hears what he’s done and he gets supes into the military and Vought a lucrative contract with the Department of Defense. Another success for Homelander

“I really do like you,” you say. “I just wanted you to know that before you kill me.” Your heartbeat is steady, gaze locked in on his glowing red eyes. No one’s ever looked him in the eye upon facing their certain death from him before

He grabs your face, resisting the urge to squeeze it hard enough to break your jaw, “You’re a real piece of work. I don’t answer to anyone, got that, Rosethorn?”

You whisper your name to him, your real name, and he repeats it softly before letting go of your face and taking an unsteady step back. “You owe me. I didn’t kill you, and now you owe me.” You nod in understanding before disappearing into the night

He returns to Vought covered in blood, claiming victory over his arch-enemy once and for all. He never played poker, but you’re an ace up his sleeve if he could ever have one

[nyoomfruits]

i am in love with your fics. like so in love. please never stop writing 🫶🫶

ANON THIS IS SO SWEET big mwAH for you and also here's a snippet from my upcoming dad!oscar/dj!lando fic as a thank you

Nothing happens, that first season Oscar drives for Red Bull. Or, well, plenty of things happen, but nothing happens between them. Oscar is too focused on proving he belongs with Red Bull, Lando is too focused on having fun, and they barely cross paths. They talk, the few times Lando goes to a race, and Lando finds out Oscar is really just that calm, cool and collected, while somehow also being soft, smiley, giggly. It’s a fascinating enigma.

Fascinating enough that Lando keeps coming back for more. Fascinating enough that something does happen, in Oscar’s second season at Red Bull, right at the start. Lando isn’t one to show up to the opening races, usually, but he was free, Max offered, and so he finds himself at the crowded Red Bull after party nursing a vodka coke and talking to some of the Red Bull employees.

Oscar is there, because Oscar won, and Lando catches glimpses of him, in the crowd. His face is flushed red, and there’s this almost permanent bashful little smile on his face as people pat his back and congratulate him. He’s wearing a white button down, and as the night progresses more and more buttons come undone, his hair becomes messier, the flush on his cheeks more pronounced.

Lando doesn’t know how he ends up with his back pressed against the wall of a deserted hallway just past the bathrooms, Oscar’s mouth hot and heavy against his own, his hands tangled in Oscar’s hair, Oscar’s hands on the small of Lando’s back.

He guesses it has something to do with those vodka cokes, and the stupid buttons of Oscar’s shirt, and definitely with the hair. But he’s not complaining, because Oscar’s a good kisser. Hard, desperate, yet soft. Caring, almost. It’s sweet, weirdly. And really, ridiculously hot, so.

Lando’s not very surprised he ends up in Oscar’s hotel room. And based on how that goes, he’s not that surprised he ends up there again. He is surprised, however, about how much he starts to like Oscar. Aside from the whole vague fuck buddies thing they’ve got going on. Like yeah, he likes the sex, but he’s starting to like the after part, too.

The part where Oscar gently urges him into the shower despite the hour because he knows Lando feels better about it later if he does, offers him a shirt to borrow when Lando’s own gets stained with cum somehow. Let’s him sleep over, when Lando’s own hotel is halfway across the city they currently find themselves in. Offers him breakfast, always, and asks Lando about his day as they eat, seeming genuinely interested in the answer.

So he likes Oscar. And Oscar. Oscar clearly doesn’t hate him, so. Maybe… Maybe?

But then New Year’s happens. Then the baby happens.

So, yeah. That’s the end of that.

[khaleesidracarys]

I am so ridiculously in love with Izzy right now I just-

Man found some clarity, man got hugged and understood that people care for him, man realized that his relationship with Ed was toxic as fuck, stood up for the crew and worried about Ed, man thanked Stede for saving them (and got ignored), man took part of the blame for Ed's spiral.

Man got mutilated (AGAIN) and STILL SAVED THEIR COLLECTIVE ASSES BLINDED BY PAIN AND SADNESS. SHOOTING HIS BOSS (AND LOVE) IN THE ARM TO KEEP HIM FROM ENDING THEM ALL.

Iz, my love, darling-

I have so many feelings I can't even express them properly. He realized that what he did in season one contributed to the state they're all in now-

I read somewhere that Con said that "Izzy goes on a journey" but like- In the first three episodes alone he has: - Been stabbed and killed - Been shot - Had two more toes cut off - Had his leg rot and then amputated - Tried to kill himself

I can not describe how much I love him and how happy I am he's getting an arc. I hope to the heavens this isn't one of those times where they give a character an arc just to kill them off later. I couldn't handle it. Not him. Not when he's come so far so soon.

On a different but similar note, The ABSOLUTE emotion Con is able to place in his eyes and his micro-expressions astounds me. I have never felt such utter fucking despair and horror for a character in a supposed rom-com show ever in my life. (Taika's acting should also be mentioned, he was fucking terrifying.)

HOW MUCH MORE OF A JOURNEY IS THERE TO GO ON AND WHY AM I SO FUCKING SCARED????

[sandyferal]

Admitting that Tootie and Timmy are the only version of the “girl is obsessed with boy and he doesn’t like her back but they end up together eventually” that I’ve seen done right was painful. I mean I think it’s the truth for the most part but it’s hard to give credit to FOP for writing anything well because they ruin basically all of that in the later seasons. Like they demolish it.

They literally just brought in a random weirdly designed pretty perfect new girl for Timmy to actually successfully woo… when it feels like the whole fucking point was that him disliking Tootie and being attracted to pretty perfect girls without considering their character was a symptom of his immaturity and superficial view of relationships. Also in general what was it with the fucking later seasons only letting girls be perfect or evil. (Except Wanda and Timmy’s mom. Who are literally just “nagging wife” and “mother.” Not much better.)

It’s incredibly funny to me too because I feel like they got so close to making Chloe from the later seasons an actually decent character (outside of her first ep.) Like she was kinda unhinged and flawed and it would’ve been so so easy to reveal that her outward “perfection” was the result of her holding herself to ridiculous standards that actually made her miserable. Crazy that even her saying “no one wants to be friends with me” when that was obviously false could’ve been good writing. Showing her perception was so warped that she thought her not being fully perfect meant she was an awful person and everyone secretly knew and hated her for it. They could’ve still portrayed her parents as good loving people who accidentally implied that they only loved Chloe because they didn’t see her flaws. But like no. The reason she’s “miserable” is just stupid, and she’s not a good enough character that the audience can overlook that.

That’s not even mentioning Trixie. Don’t get me started on Trixie. This show did a lot of character flip flopping even during the good seasons, but Trixie was just. Something else. Like the show really felt like it was actually trying to set up that she was a genuinely nice girl with good values that got buried when she was under the scrutiny of her popular friends, but then it did a turn and decided she was just shallow and/or crazy. And they continued to flip flop on whether Timmy pursuing her was even a good idea. Like man none of the characters actually GOT lasting character arcs but she specifically felt like she was in a position where it would’ve made the most sense to have one.

Insanely grateful character arcs are allowed to exist in A New Wish. I’ll admit, the girls still haven’t particularly benefited from them as much, but at the very least we have Dev. And at least Hazel is a likable character and not just slotted into one of the old “girl” stereotypes. Hell I’m glad ANY character is good. Like just. I cannot believe how bad the last seasons of FOP got. It was that serious man and the girls got it so bad. They really refused, like straight up didn’t try to bring back Trixie or Tootie for a love interest episode when that was Trixie’s entire purpose in the fucking show. But I guess they wanted to give him a win for once. Man.

And importantly, Wanda and Cosmo not only have a better relationship in New Wish, but Wanda is NOT a punching bag. Like it may be a slight exaggeration to call her that, but fuck man, some of the later season eps thought it was so fun to beat her up for literally no reason.

[pedriscroquettes]

𝐓𝐑𝐀 – FERMÍN LÓPEZ

summary. going clubbing doesn’t go as planned when your brother’s rival shows up to ruin the fun

warnings. fermín x paz!reader, f!oral, semi public s3x, fingering, & a cocky!fermín.

a/n. my brain worked overtime on this tbh. poor fran i completely slandered him in this. based off tra by bad gyal (catalan it girl)

the strobing lights were almost strong enough to blind you and half of the real madrid b squad. the dj seemed to be going through an existential crisis since he kept going back and forth between edm and reggaeton. you’re fortunate enough that he at least plays fiebre without remixing it or pausing it to try and drop a beat.

“joder.” your brother puffs clearly done with whoever he’s texting. (fuck.)

“is it the schedule?” you ask him wondering if this seasons schedule finally came out. it always got him worked up.

“no, this season seems like a good one. it’s just-” he sets his phone down before turning his head towards you.

“el boludo de agustin…” he takes a sip of his drink. he’s always been the most dramatic out of the two of you, clearly. (augustin’s dumbass.)

“nico, you already know that i’m not interested in him like that. he’s just my friend. ” you reassure him.

“no, i know and i don’t want to be an overbearing protective brother but mom would kill me if i let one of my teammates hurt you.” he sighs.

“nico i can take care of myself. don’t worry about me you’ve got a whole career ahead of you. focus on that instead.” you smile at him.

“i’m trying- joder” he scoffs again.

“now what?” you say concerned about the way his mood changed so quickly.

“look who just came in.” he nods towards the entrance.

you try to subtlety turn around but it’s almost impossible without doing a full 180 to see who your brother was talking about. your eyes immediately spot the three guys nico hated the most on the pitch. although out of all three of them only one stood out to you, fermín. you didn’t care for your brothers’ rivalries except for the one he had with the barcelona midfielder. not only did he bother nico but he bothered you as well. every time you were in barcelona he was always there with his annoying attitude.

“well, we are in their city.” you shrug trying to ignore their presence.

“there’s like a million other clubs here and out of all of them they arrive here it can’t be a coincidence.” he scoffs as if the three of the players had been following them.

“i’m not very fond of them either but you’re being ridiculous. we’re like ten minutes away from their training grounds i think it would be a coincidence that they’re here.” you explain logically.

“yeah what- you know what i’m just very stressed out about my whole nationality process right now. i’m gonna go get a drink. do you want anything?” he asks.

“no, it’s fine. just don’t indulge too much i do not want to take care of you again like in vigo.” you bring up the northern city into the conversation.

“you promised you wouldn’t bring that up again. that shit was so embarrassing.” he whines.

“i wasn’t the one who confessed their profound love for duki in his messages. i had to delete over ten voice notes of you singing, crying, and explaining why you’re better than emilia.” you burst out laughing.

“whatever, i’ll see you later.” he walked off.

you watched as your brother walked away either to find someone to flirt with or get another drink. he was the social sibling always outgoing and making friends as soon as he joined a new team. your house would always be full of people you hardly even knew. so you were surprised when his distaste for fermín began, your brother never held grudges. but then you met the devil himself and you realized why your brother disliked him.

he was arrogant, a total egomaniac, and an asshole. you remembered how nice he was to you when he first met you outside the stadium but as soon as he realized who’s sister you were he was always taunting you. you knew how serious rivalries were but you didn’t think it was that deep.

“hope your brother enjoyed my goal from the bench.” a voice interrupted your thoughts.

you look up to find him sitting in front of you replacing your brother. you’re studying his features when the chain around his neck distracts you. a cross. yet, he was somehow the worst person you knew. meanwhile, a smirk grows on his face as time passes and he realizes you’re not in a rush to get him to leave.

“milking a friendly today, are we?” you tease him.

“a friendly your brother spent at the bench the whole night.” he smirks.

“i’m starting to think you have a crush on my brother.” you laugh at him. “which probably explains why you always stalk my story every time we’re in town.”

“what are you talking about?” he scoffs at the accusation.

“felopez03? could you make it more obvious?” you manage to embarrass the barça player.

you had lied to your brother earlier. every time the two of you ran into fermín it was never a coincidence. you had debated on telling your brother about his secret admirer but quite frankly you loved the attention. you knew he always watched your stories when you were in town so you took advantage of that. posting pictures of yourself in short dresses, bikinis, and including some where the only thing covering your breasts were your hands. he always seemed to like those anyways.

“lópez is an extremely common last name.” he simply replies.

“good night fer.” you stood up and picked up your things.

“if you’re going to go like for your brother you won’t find him. saw him leave with a girl who looked very familiar. i think-” he paused debating on whether he should say what he was thinking. “i think i must’ve slept with her as well.”

you simply roll your eyes not wanting to be the victim of his ego. you check your phone and surely enough there’s a message from your brother. you can’t believe he’s left you alone with his teammates and the egomaniac to get laid.

nico 🐣: don’t wait up on me fran will take you home.

y/n: you left me alone to get laid? i hope she bites your dick off.

you shove your phone into your bag and begin looking around for fran. you spot the defender near the bar with a few of his teammates. you’ve avoided him for almost a month and the last thing you wanted tonight was to talk to him. the barça player seems to notice that too because as soon as you start walking towards fran he steps in front of you. you try to push him out of the way but he’s too strong.

“fer-” you sigh exhausted at his antics.

it all happens in a quick blur one minute you’re trying to shove fermin out of the way and the next you’re completely drenched in vodka. you’re not even sure how it happens but the girl in front of you is currently rambling about how sorry she was. you were a bit annoyed that the top you had just bought was now ruined but you could always borrow your brother��s card again.

“it’s okay. it’s fine don’t worry.” you try to calm her down because somehow she’s more upset about the situation than you are.

as soon as she leaves you head towards the bathroom hoping to dry off your shirt. you don’t realize that fermín has followed you into the bathroom until he shuts the door.

“what are you doing here?” you scoff.

“she spilled half of her drink on me too. must’ve tripped or something.” he murmured.

“and you came to dry your shirt in the women’s restroom?” you ask dumbfounded.

“well i can’t exact leave you alone in a bar full of strangers.” he shrugs.

“i know more than half of the people here.” you complain.

“yeah and they’re not exactly looking out for you. nico asked fran to take care of you and as far as i know he hasn’t come looking for you yet.” he bites back.

you murmur a quick ‘whatever’ before focusing on your top again. it’s completely wet from top to bottom so you have no other option but to take it off. you completely forget about fermín’s presence when you start walking around the restroom with your black lace bra and mini skirt. fermín tries his best to look away, to be respectful for once but you leave him in a trance. the view you give him is all too much and he decides to do something about it.

“here. it’s almost dry anyways.” he takes his shirt off and offers it to you.

your eyes linger on his toned body for too long you practically have to force yourself to look away. the dirty blonde finds himself smirking at your reaction. he walks closer to you hoping you’ll accept his peace offering. it begins to drive him mad how beautiful you look you in your current state. if he hadn’t been such a prick to you for the last couple of years maybe it’d be him taking you home and not fran. besides fran wouldn’t know what to do with all that.

you look at him again and throw your inhibitions out the window. your brother is the one who hates him on and off the pitch but not you. maybe just on the pitch but right now you were in a club bathroom without tops on. if your brother could have fun why couldn’t you?

“fer?” you turn around to look at him directly.

“hmm?” he puts his arm down realizing you won’t take his shirt.

“do you think i’m pretty?” you bat your eyelashes innocently.

he pauses not knowing how to respond. of course you looked pretty but he couldn’t exactly say that out loud. not if he wanted to keep up with the banter the two of you had. it would ruin the dynamic.

“it’s fine you don’t have to answer i’ll just go and ask fran.” you fake being upset and head for the door before fermín steps in front of you again.

“you can’t go out like that.” he panics.

“why? don’t you like my bra?” you tease him.

“joder tía pero tú estás loca.” he sighs frustrated. (fuck, you’re crazy.)

“i mean you’re the one who’s been liking all my stories. especially the ones where i leave little to the imagination.” you reach behind your back and unclasp your bra letting it hit the floor. you’re too far gone now. “you seem to really likes the ones where my breasts are showing though.”

he bites his lips trying to avoid his eyes from wondering. he can practically feel his pants getting tighter the closer you got to him. it was as if the room got smaller and ten times hotter. he’d always been so cocky with his hookups but you somehow made him lose his confidence. but then you said someone else’s name and he suddenly gained his ego back.

“do you think if i asked fran to fuck me he’d say yes?” was the question that threw him off.

his demeanor changed in an instant and suddenly he needed you right there in that bathroom. he knew you were probably just teasing him but he wasn’t going to lose you, not to fran at least.

“he’d probably finish in his pant just by seeing your tits and you’d go home upset.” you didn’t realize how much little space was left between the two of you until you saw both his arms on the sink. you were stuck between the sink and his shirtless body. “he’ll never satisfy you.”

“and you would?” you test his patience.

his hand finds its way onto your thigh and you realize you’ve finally gotten what you wanted. as your breath hitches his hand trails up and the look on his face proved he wanted this as much as you did. he pauses once he gets to your clothed core and looks up at you. you realize he’s asking for permission. you trail your hand down your body to where his hand is and carefully move your panties to the side.

“joder.” he groans at the sight. this is definitely not how he expected his night to go.

“fer.” you whine wanting him to touch you already.

his hands creeps up your throat you can feel his fingers getting closer to your lips. you know what he wants you to do so you open your mouth taking in two of his fingers. he watches intently as you suck on them making them wet enough to enter you. he takes a mental screenshot of you not wanting to forget about this moment. when you finally stop he places his fingers on your thigh again, teasing you. he’s gotten his ego back.

“fuck, you’re so wet.” he can feel the blood rushing to his dick as you you spread your legs for him.

you want to tell him to shut up and hurry up due to how needy you are but he finally drags his fingers over your core. a wave of pleasure rings through your body as he finally touches you. he circles your clit before dragging his fingers down to where you needed him the most. he enters you with one finger first thrusting it slowly letting you adjust. the room is filled with your incoherent moans and your acrylics dig into his free hand.

“oh, fuck.” is all you can say as he enters his second finger.

his thrusts begin to gain momentum as he sees how much you’re enjoying it. the feeling of having your walls squeeze his fingers is so surreal and he can’t resist the urge of reaching up to kiss you. the first kiss is long and sweet but as soon as you start kissing him back it gets heated. soon the kisses become short and needy and you can barely breathe between them. he grabs you by the hair pulling it to get better access to your neck and the pain turns into pleasure as he curls his fingers inside of you.

fermín expects you to tell him to not leave marks but you can’t help but want him to bite down on your neck. he leaves short peppered kisses on your neck before sucking and biting making sure that tomorrow you’ll have to hide your neck from your brother. he hears you panting and knows you’re getting close to coming undone. your hands run through his hair tugging on the strands as you get closer to your high.

and then suddenly you feel empty. his fingers are no longer thrusting inside of you and he pulls away from your lips. you’re about to yell at him when he kneels down in front of you and your eyes go wide. he spreads your legs further apart placing one on each shoulder. you can feel his breathe on your core and you’re not exactly sure you’re ready for what’s to happen. one lick is enough to make your head go back and your legs tremble.

his hold on your thighs get stronger and he dived in deeper. you pull on his hair harder each time he gets closer to your hole, clearly teasing you. he sucks on your clit and that’s enough to have you screaming out of pleasure. your moans are enough to raise his confidence and he brings his fingers back and enters you once again. his tongue and fingers are too much, he’s overstimulating you. you can feel your high approaching once again. this time he doesn’t stop he keeps going. he wants to see you reach your high.

“gonna cum all over my fingers?” he teases.

“fuck, yes.” you gasp barely having the strength to speak properly.

he somehow manages to go faster and you know you’re only a couple of thrusts away from cumming. then he adds in another finger and you’re a moaning mess. your juices squirt all over his fingers and pulls them out of you. he drags your fingers back towards your lips and you grant him access again. you lick them tasting yourself before he kisses you again. it’s a slow sensual kiss and then it happens you spot something moving in the background from the corner of your eye.

“fran.” you gasp at the sight of your brother teammates standing in the back shocked at the scene he walked into.

“what?” fermín pulls away confused at the sudden burst of fran’s name. that’s when he spots fran in the mirror and instead of being ashamed he can’t help but smirk.

that is until you push him off of you and fix yourself. you grab fermín’s shirt without a second thought and fix your skirt embarrassed about being caught and by fran of all people. fran’s disappointment is visible but you really don’t care about his feelings at the moment but rather about whether or not he’ll tell your brother.

“my shirt!” fermín yells.

“you’re a man you can walk around without a shirt.” you say as you get your purse from the sink.

fran walks out not wanting to witness more of what he’s already seen. you have no choice but to follow him since he was your designated driver for the night. but once again fermín steps in front of you and stops you from leaving. he leans down and kisses you and you can’t help but kiss him back.

“next time leave the bodyguard at home.” is all he tells you before stepping aside letting you leave.

that night you fell asleep in his shirt. you’re definitely looking forward to the next game your brother has in barcelona.