Braiding Baldur's Hair And Beard.

Spider DNA 🕷️

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(red: Miguel)

(summary: you caught Miguel in his office rutting, and he asks for help. only for you to find out another defect of his spider DNA)

CW: monster fucking, aggressive sex, biting, clawing, licking, uses of degrading names, 2 dicks, slight choking if you squint, edging, anal.

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12:46 PM.

You just had gotten done on a mission with Peter B, walking down the lobby halls and squeezing past a couple of the other members with an empanada in your hand.

You'd popped into the cafeteria, grabbing two empanadas (one of which you'd already eaten by then) and the second one for Miguel.

Miguel and you have never really spoken since you first were recruited, but sometimes he'd make small talk that surprised you considering he'd never really talk to anyone. So you thought it would be nice to bring him some lunch as he's locked up in his lab as usual.

You make your way down Sector 4, getting in the elevator as it goes up and you keep your hands around the empanada container, making sure it stays warm.

The large doors finally open as you get to the top, walking down the hall and past several big machines from Miguels projects, the lights dark as usual.

The closer you got to the main part, the heavier the buzzing sound in your head became, your spider senses tingling but you ignored it, assuming nothing could possibly happen.

But then you get to the end of the hall, leading to the main part of the lab and you see Miguel hunched over his desk, helplessly and aimlessly humping the side of a table.

His face was a flushed mess, biting his bottom lip with his eyebrows scrunched together as he tried to have some sort of relief underneath his suit.

His grunts and whimpers fill the lab, as he claws and bites at the desk, humping repeatedly.

Your eyes widened, an unexplainable knot twisting in your stomach but in a... good way?

You go to take a step back but by the time your heel had lifted off of the ground he was already standing up and glaring at you.

"what are you doing here.?" he snapped

You didn't know what to say, so you just held up the empanada in the small cardboard container.

"... empanada." you mumbled, your eyes still wide.

His platform was already on the ground, so he was in front of you within seconds. His eyebrows scrunched together and with every breath he took he let it out in a small growl.

"um... here." you say shakily, putting it to his chest as if you expect him to take it.

but instead he grabs your wrist, the empanada falling out of your hand and he yanks you closer, absolutely staring into your soul.

"don't want it." he says in a low voice and tilts his head, leaning closer and he... sniffs?

your eyes widen and you feel his breath behind your ear as he smelled you.

"help me." he whispers, his tone making you wanna get on your knees right then and there.

"with what?" you say trying to keep your voice less shaky than before.

"what season is it cariño?" he mumbles, his other hand moving around you to the small of your back as his other hand keeps hold of both of your wrists.

"summer?" your tone is confused and he sniffs the crook of your neck.

"breeding. breeding season." he grumbled. oh. he was rutting. it all made sense now, the behavior change, humping his desk, smelling you, you must've forgotten he was 50% spider. but now it made sense and you were horny just from watching him for those 15 seconds of the humping so how could you say no?

"what if we get caught?" he took that as a yes, immediately biting slightly into your neck and ripping the crotch out of your spider suit.

"h-hey!" you said and he got on his knees, ignoring you and pulling your legs apart as he stuck his tongue in between your folds.

you almost fell backwards, and he held you by the waist and aggressively moved you over to the wall, pressing you back against it and he pulled your legs over his shoulders and stayed on his knees. his tongue desperately lapping at your clit, sucking and slobbering all over your already wet pussy.

"you're gonna be so good to my cock." he mumbled into you, the vibrations making you whimper and put your hands in his hair.

his hands clawed into your thighs, digging into the skin slightly and the longer he desperately ate you out, the tighter the familiar knot got in your stomach.

"f-fuck Miguel I'm gonna-" damn it.

the knot painfully faded away, Miguel had already stood you back up and was cleaning his face off with his tongue after denying you to cum.

"you're here for ME hermosa." he hissed, grabbing your chin and hunching over you.

you just nodded, and he turned you around and pushed you against the wall

he buried his face into your neck, inhaling your scent.

then he pulled down the neck of your spider suit, revealing your skin and he licked from the crook of your neck to the back of your ear.

your eyes widened and you looked at him, his eyes were closed and his face was flushed but still buried into your skin.

it was... cute. but that cute thought immediately was yeeted to another side of your head when he opened his eyes and grabbed you, hoisting you over his shoulder and he walked back to his platform and slammed you onto the desk.

before you could even say anything his suit dissipated, revealing his toned body and muscles which were even hotter underneath the suit but further down, two rock-hard (at least 10 inch) dicks were staring right at you.

"I'm gonna fuckin ruin you." he growled, grabbing your chin and making you look up at him.

"tw- how- huh?" you couldn't even get the words out, looking down at his monster cocks.

he rolled his eyes and squoze your chin harder

"it's a defect. 50% spider dna. remember? spiders have two reproductive organs, so I get two dicks." he snapped

you looked up at him, wide eyed and you didn't even know how he was gonna fuck you.

"and you're gonna take it like the whore you are."

you didn't know what to say, but the thought of two dicks absolutely ruining you like that sounded like the best thing ever.

you nodded, and he flipped you onto your stomach and positioned himself behind you, arching your back with one arm under your hips and the other arm around your neck with his face in your shoulder.

you whimpered, the two heads of his cocks poking against your entrance and your anus.

he stuck his fingers in your mouth, still not putting his dick in.

"suck." he commanded, and you wrapped your tongue around his thick fingers and started sucking.

the position was uncomfortable, bent like a pretzel but that's how he liked it. that's how you liked it.

without warning, he bottomed out. a loud squelch followed by a shriek from you and a groan from him entering the air.

you squeeze your eyes shut, your hand reaching up and grabbing onto his arm that was around your neck.

"god you're so tight..." he groaned, thrusting in and out without giving you time to even adjust to the monster cocks filling both of your holes.

"you were made for me. you're my whore." he whispered in your ear, licking your jaw as he thrusted mercilessly into your holes.

you moaned loudly, your hand clawing at his arm and your mouth sucking harder on his fingers.

the sounds of skin slapping, squelching, groaning, whimpering, and moaning were the only things you could hear. the occasional degrading things or sweet nothings Miguel would whisper into your ear made your brain go foggy.

you could feel him everywhere. he was all over you, and inside you. you swore you could feel every single vein on both of his cocks.

next thing you knew you'd came 4 times and he had 3. he was a whimpering mess, biting your shoulder and fucking you at the same relentless pace as he was before even if the overstimulation was killing him.

"I'm gonna get you so fucking pregnant baby.." he whimpered, squeezing his eyes shut and biting into your neck.

"you wanna have my kids? Yeah baby?" he cooed, even if he knew you couldn't answer.

your jaw was slack, eyes rolled into the back of your head and your pussy and anus still milked his cock for more cum.

"mm you're so good to me cariño." he muttered, both of your guys cum dripping out of your holes.

"so so so good. God I love this pussy... I'm gonna make you a mama and use you like a whore everyday." he ranted, his face red and his eyebrows scrunched in concentration of cumming just one more time.

his hips stuttered, his pace faltering and it was a familiar thing by now.

"fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck-" then his 4th load of warm seed was shot into your holes, making you moan and he pulled out with a squelch.

he collapsed onto you, his arm slipping out from underneath your hips and out from around your neck and the only sound you could hear now was his soft breathing.

you'd thought you'd died, the white stars fading away from your vision and you laid your head on the table.

"fuck..." you sighed, and he slowly sat up and covered himself with his suit.

"I'll make note to call you next time." he muttered, helping you off of the table and he just tossed you a tissue.

you stood up, cleaning yourself off with the tissue but with the amount of cum coming out of you it wasn't enough and you could barely even stand.

he looked at you, then walked past you to his holographic screens.

"take a plan b." he said without even looking at you.

"um... okay."

"and I'll have Lyla make you a new suit."

you nodded, then left and got in the elevator. hoping that you would be able to run fast enough so nobody saw your ass and pussy hanging out, but the idea wasn't that bad, leaving the empanada long gone and forgotten about, cold in it's box.

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THIS IS MY FIRST WRITING PIECE 🥳🥳

I hope you all appreciate it, I hope it's good 😭

but thank you to @pissjuicencumballz for the idea.

SEE YOU ALL OCT. 2!!!

I love this him so much❤️

DILF TIME 📣📣📣📣📣📣📣📣

Summary: The reader hangs out with Jack's mother and sister for the ALLOUT PPV. She's eagerly waiting for the moment that she can let Jack's family know that she's not only never liked them, but she's also got a new man.

It's AEW's PPV night, with ALLOUT starting in under an hour. You walk backstage with Jack at your side, chatting with him about his match on the card. 

"Thanks again, Y/N." Jack thanks you with a soft smile. "I don't think Christian would try anything with my mom or sister, but just in case." 

You nod, matching his sweet smile. "It's no problem, Jack. I'm happy to sit with your mom and sister during the show. Though we both know I'd much rather be on the card." You fake a laugh, hiding your disappointment behind a friendly smile. 

"Hey! You'll be on the next one, I'm sure." Jack assures you with a light pat on the shoulder. "Anyway, I'll see you out there tonight." He turns towards the locker rooms and smiles at you one last time. 

"Mhm." You hum with another fake smile. "See you out there, Jack." You wave as he disappears around the corner. 

Once Jack is out of sight you pull out your phone and scroll through your contacts for a second before dialing a number at the top of the list. The line rings a couple of times as you make your way out of the backstage area to find your seat. 

"Well well well, now I know Y/N L/N isn't calling me mere hours before I'm about to end her best friend's career, is she?" Christian's sultry voice cuts through the phone, and you can hear the smirk on his face. 

"Whatever." You roll your eyes. "I just dropped the dork off backstage, I'll be in the front row with his annoying ass mom and sister." You inform him in an unamused tone. 

Christian chuckles at the news and you can picture the sinister look on his face. "Good girl. I'll you see out there then, gorgeous." He purrs at you. 

"Mhm. You owe me for this, Cage." You remind him. "You are making me sit next to Jack's idiotic family for at least two hours, after all." You sneer at the thought of having to hang out and pretend to like Jack's family. 

"Oh, you'll get your reward, Y/N." Christian replies. "And it'll rock your world, honey. I can promise you that." He adds. 

"It better." You blow out an annoyed sigh through your nose and hang up the phone. 

You make your way out to the arena and head to your seat. When you arrive Jack's mom and sister are already there and settled into their chairs. You put on a fake smile and walk over to them. 

"Rachel! Sophie! How are you guys?" You smile and sit down in the empty seat next to them. 

Rachel is the one sitting closer to you so she's the one to greet you first. "Y/N, so nice to see you again, sweetie." She greets you. "Jack let us know that you'd be sitting out here with us for his match against Christian." She explains. "Thank you for looking out for us." 

"Yeah, like I was telling Jack earlier. It's no problem, Rachel." You assure her. "How are you and Sophie feeling about tonight?" You ask her. 

"A little nervous," Sophie admits, wringing her hands in her lap. 

Rachel agrees with her daughter and comforts her quietly. "Yes, but we've got to believe in Jack, right?" She reminds Sophie. 

"Rachel's right, Sophie." You chime in. "Jack knows Christian well, he's got this." You lie to both their faces with ease and settle back into your seat as the show finally starts. 

You sit mostly silent for most of the show, right until it's time for Jack and Christian's match to begin. Christian comes out to the ring first and makes his way down the ramp with that usual smug smirk on his face. You rise to your feet with Sophie and Rachel as Christian gets to the bottom of the ramp and turns to the three of you. 

"Awe would you like at that." Christian laughs as he walks over to the barricade. "You guys really came all that way to watch poor Jack lose?" He laughs, leaning over the barricade a bit. "You know, Y/N, this match isn't going to take long so I'm free right after." He winks at you. 

You keep a scowl on your face to match Rachel and Sophie. Reeling your hand back you attempt to smack the grin off Christian face, not that it works. He simply takes a step back with an even more self-entitled grin and winks at you one more time before he slips into the ring. 

You sit back down, knowing that you're going to catch hell later for smacking him that hard. Sophie and Rachel sit back down as well and whisper to one another while they wait for Jack to come down to the ring. Jack's music hits and everyone stands back up, you glance at Christian in the ring who watches you with a grin as Luchasaurus comes out and runs Jack through before the kid even has time to get down the ramp. 

"Oh my god?!" Rachel and Sophie both cry out. 

"Stay here." You fake a worried tone and hop over the barricade. 

Luchasaurus drags Jack down the ramp and drops him at the foot of the ring for Christian. Cage hops down to the floor and walks over to Jack, but you step in front of Perry first acting like you're there to shield him from Christian. 

"Quite the little actress, aren't you, Y/N?" Christian smirks down at you. 

The worried look on your face warps into a grin. "Oh, I try." You shrug and step off to the side. "Sorry Jack, but it looks like you couldn't cut it, huh baby?" You lean down to Jack before you let Christian have him. 

You turn around and catch a glimpse of Rachel and Sophie. Both of them wear looks of pure shock as they stare at you. You walk over to them with Luchasaurus behind you and laugh. 

"Awe, what's wrong Rachel?" You laugh. "I thought that your precious Jack had Christian's number?" You tilt your head to the side with a laugh. 

"We trusted you!" Sophie blurts out in a half-sob. 

You shrug again as the bell rings behind you. "Your mistake, sweetie." You turn on your heel sharply and climb into the ring where Christian is towering in victory over Jack. 

"That was an A+ performance from you, I'll admit." Christian chuckles when you step over Jack. He slings an arm over your shoulder with a grin and you both head up the ramp. "Now, about that reward." 

Podium Princess | LN + CS + CL

Summary: Lando lost a bet, which would have just temporarily damaged his ego, but the problem was that you were the prize that Charles and Carlos desired for one night.

masterlist taglist form

© thef1diary 2024. do not repost without permission

Warnings: 18+, mmmf, unprotected sex, three men for three holes 🤭, fingering, oral, anal, dp?, filthy as fuck, derogatory terms (kinda), praise, overstimulation, riding.

pairing: lando x fem!reader x carlos x charles

wc: 3.1k

Request: You should totally write a smut about lando sharing his girlfriend with Carlos and Charles after placing in the #australiangp

"You did what?" You asked your boyfriend, wondering if you misheard his words. "I made a bet," Lando responded, but this time with more assurance.

You sat down on the bed in your shared hotel room and asked, "what is it?" Patting the spot next to you, silently indicating Lando to sit down and begin explaining the bet. You've known from the years you've been dating that whenever he places a wager, he eventually loses, but you chose against mentioning it.

He hesitated for a moment but then decided to explain how he ended up in that situation.

The evening began when Lando noticed Carlos and Charles speaking after the qualifying session. He observed they had been spending a lot of time together recently, so Lando obviously had to approach them and disrupt their latest gossip session.

Putting the trio together, one would discover that they never run out of topics to discuss, which is how they found themselves sitting in a car in the parking lot outside their hotel. Carlos suggested that since they were all staying at the same hotel for the weekend, they might as well leave the track together.

However, during the car ride, there was a discussion that quickly brought out the competitive nature that each driver had developed at a young age. "What, you guys don't think I'll win?" Lando asked the Ferrari drivers, slightly offended. This particular topic of conversation started once they discussed the possible winners for the race tomorrow.

Based on the three practice sessions and qualifying, it could be argued that while they all had a fairly nice weekend so far, some were still more fortunate than others. As a result, the Spaniard shook his head, disagreeing with his friend, "mate, I'm starting second tomorrow, which clearly means I have a better chance of winning."

"I was first in fp1," Lando retaliated although they all knew that qualifying in a higher position meant more than topping a single practice session.

"You might have a good chance, but Max is on pole, let's not forget that," Charles reminded his fellow colleagues. Lando perked up at his words, "exactly, so all Carlos needs to do is somehow crash him out of the race so I can win."

Charles laughed at the outrageous plan, but Carlos scoffed, "I won't ruin my chances at a podium for a race you won't win." Noticing Lando's defeated expression, it caused Charles to laugh harder. "Not that I think either of you would win, but let's make a bet," the Monégasque suggested.

"Who do you think will win?" Carlos asked. Charles' dimple deepened as he smiled, "me of course."

This time Lando scoffed, "yeah, sure mate," then he looked at Carlos, "what do I get when I win the bet?"

"This," Carlos stated while holding up his middle finger towards him. Rolling his eyes, he decided, "fine, I'll ask for something when I win, and then you two won't be able to deny it."

"And what do we get if you don't win?" Carlos asked, looking at Charles who was waiting for an answer from Lando.

While Lando was focused on what he would ask for if he won the bet, he failed to consider that Carlos or Charles were more likely to win than him. He would have a one-in-three chance of winning the wager, but Lando hadn't realized the extent of the situation just yet.

"Not that it'll happen but what do you guys want?" He asked only as a formality to actually set the bet.

Carlos was quiet for a moment as he thought of something that would be worthwhile, looking at Charles to see if he had any ideas. Then he thought of it—of you. "Your girlfriend," he simply stated.

It took two seconds for Lando to start laughing, not that it was ever a challenge to do so, but he initially assumed that Carlos was joking. His laughter quickly died down once he didn't hear either driver laugh along with him.

Looking in the backseat at Charles briefly, who nodded in agreement, Lando snapped his head towards Carlos, "what do you mean my girlfriend?"

"It's simple. If Charles or I win, then you have to share your girlfriend for a night, if not, then you don't," he explained nonchalantly.

Lando looked at Charles, "and you agree with him?" He shrugged, then nodded, "she's hot, I wouldn't say no."

He slumped back in his seat, "I suppose you'll be disappointed when I win." While Lando was secure in his abilities, both drivers around him thought he was growing overconfident. "So you agree, that if you don't win, we can have her?"

Nodding it off and waving his hand around, Lando agreed, "yeah, you can."

You were stunned into silence once he finished explaining. Noticing your lack of words, Lando was unsure of your thoughts. "You don't think I'll win?"

You shrugged, "all I'm gonna say is that you have twenty-one other chances to win this season if you don't win this race." You didn't exactly answer his question, but he realized that you weren't opposed or disgusted by the idea either. Pulling you into his lap, he tilted your chin upwards with his fingers and leaned closer for a kiss.

He tightened his grasp on your chin to stop you before you could press your lips against his. "Oh I see, you don't want me to win just so you can be passed around like a slut between my friends?"

"You wouldn't have put me as the prize if you didn't like the idea," you retaliated, smirking as you moved his hand away to finally place your lips on his.

—

You stood among the crowd, cheering for Lando, who took his place on the third step of the podium. As the podium celebrations began, a part of you was also looking forward to the celebrations that would follow later tonight. Lando may have lost a bet, but it was the first bet you were glad he lost.

That is how you ended up in your hotel room with your lover, waiting in anticipation for the other two drivers to arrive. With his trophy set aside, you and Lando were occupied with each other; your eyes closed and head tilted back as he trailed kisses down your throat.

Then came a knock on the door, one that made your heart race in all the best ways. Lando stood up and opened the door, revealing Charles and Carlos standing on the other side, still dressed in their Ferrari polos from earlier that evening.

"What did he say? I suppose you'll be disappointed when I win," Charles greeted by mocking Lando's words from the day before. "Alright, alright I get it but I still placed third," he retaliated which earned a nod from Carlos. "Congrats, cabrón."

You could hear them laughing among themselves, but it quickly died down once Carlos and Charles spotted you. Lando had suggested that you should wear red, considering both of the drivers that placed first and second adored red.

There you sat on the mattress, leaning back on your forearms with an ankle crossed over the other, clad in only a tight short red dress which you were glad you ended up packing.

"Well, fuck me," Charles muttered under his breath earning a chuckle from you once you heard his comment. Standing up and slowly stepping towards them, you replied, "fuck me indeed."

Your gaze was fixated on Carlos, the race winner, whose eyes revealed a glimpse of all the dirty thoughts racing through his mind. "Congratulations, you both deserve a good celebration," you said, smiling as you felt Carlos' arm snaking around your waist and Charles' breath fanning your face.

"Is that what you're going to give us? A good celebration?" Charles asked, his lips grazing your cheek. "I'll give you anything you want."

You looked at your boyfriend for a second, making sure he was still comfortable with the situation before proceeding any further. But you just saw desire in his eyes and while the corner of his lip curled up in a lazy smirk, a nod from him allowed you to carry on. He may have nodded at you, but his eyes darted over your head to his fellow drivers, "Go on then, Carlos, Charles, claim your prize."

Your lips parted slightly, marvelling at the fact that Lando hadn't even addressed you, instead treating you like an object to be claimed. The worst part was realizing that you liked it since his remarks had made you clench your thighs together.

Carlos grinned at your obedient behaviour as he was easily able to tip your head back to face him. Now that they truly had the freedom to do anything they wanted to you, with your permission, neither felt bad for having sinful thoughts about you—their best friend's girlfriend—while Carlos and Charles were alone in their bedrooms.

Kissing you with a sense of urgency, Carlos stole your breath away in a matter of seconds. Your thoughts had quickly dissipated into thin air as you felt Charles trailing his fingers up your body while pressing up behind you.

You heard Lando shuffle around before leaving the three of you alone in the bedroom for a moment which only intensified your feelings. Sandwiched between the two men who are good friends of yours, were now looking at you as if you are merely an outlet for their sexual desires.

Sliding down the straps that held your dress up, Charles continued kissing every inch of your bare skin revealed to him. His hands rounded to your front, pulling down the flimsy piece of fabric to display your tits to the duo. Your nipples instantly pebbled as Charles' fingers brushed against them, making you tilt your head back and resting it against his shoulder.

Letting you regain your breath, Carlos moved down to your neck, replacing each kiss Lando had placed earlier with small nips and grazes of his teeth, just painful enough to still be pleasurable.

While both their mouths were occupied, the Spaniard's hands pushed down the rest of your dress to the floor, parting away for a moment to let you to step out of it and toss it to the side with your feet.

Lando returned to the room, trapping his bottom lip between his teeth to prevent a moan from leaving his mouth. You were now completely bare, with two fully clothed drivers—his friends—pressed against you while their hands roamed all over your body.

Discarding his shirt on the floor, he occupied your mouth with another kiss, muffling your moans. "Fuck, enjoying yourself, baby?" Lando muttered once you parted away for a moment. Nodding, you opened your mouth to respond but a sharp gasp left your mouth as you felt Charles' fingers teasing your clit while Carlos palmed your ass.

"Merde, she's so perfect," the Monégasque commented, spreading your pussy with two fingers while a third finger swiped through your folds to catch the wetness that gathered between. "Charles," you breathlessly whispered, a plead for more.

"So ready to be ruined," Carlos added, his own fingers prodding your ass, earning a string of curses along with pleas to keep going from you. Gathering your slick from your cunt, Carlos coated his fingers to ease just the tip of one finger into your ass.

Soon enough, you were laid down on the bed, and one by one the three men stripped their clothes away, adding to the ever growing pile that started from your dress. You could barely keep your eyes open due to the feeling of three pairs of hands roaming everywhere, not leaving any inch of your skin untouched.

You had already orgasmed twice, but you couldn't remember whose fingers brought you over the edge the first, or even the second time, as all of the sensations mushed together in what felt like one never ending wet dream.

Staying true to your words of giving them anything they desired, you moaned around Carlos' cock as Charles slid his dick in your pussy without any forewarning. Your grasp on his thighs tightened as Charles began to thrust, slowly at first but then showed no mercy once his grasp on your hips tightened.

Carlos pulled your mouth off his cock, but quickly replaced the emptiness you immediately felt with two of his fingers resting heavily on your tongue. His actions didn't allow you to close your jaw, causing you to drool down your chin, and only then he was satisfied.

"Such a good fucking girl," he commented, which only made your head spin further while you smiled at the compliment. "Oh she likes that," Charles added as he felt your pussy clench around him at Carlos' praise.

His fingers that were now coated with your saliva trailed down your body to where you and Charles were connected. He nodded mockingly at his teammate's comment, "yeah, you like being praised?"

Easily finding your swollen clit, he slightly pinched it before creating small circles, edging you closer. You nodded, "please, please, please." You were sobbing for relief, your voice strained from the constant cries that left your lips with each new wave of ecstasy.

Connecting their gaze, Charles and Carlos smirked as they silently agreed to let you cum once again. Charles's fingers slid closer to your back hole, this time able to slide two fingers down to the last knuckle. At the same time, Carlos' fingers left your clit only to join the thrusts of Charles' cock, scissoring two of his fingers in your pussy to stretch you out even further. Pleasure surged through your body, and you closed your eyes tightly at the sudden sensation of being so full.

Charles slowed down his thrusts, prolonging your post orgasmic sensation. You slumped forwards when he pulled out, still holding back his own release for now.

Despite still being eager, they were ever patient with you especially after bringing you over the edge multiple times now, knowing your limbs were close to tiring out.

Still on your hands and knees, you shuffled up to straddle Carlos, sinking down on down cock this time, mouth dropping open as he stretched you out slightly differently compared to Charles.

"C'mon, cariño, ride me," he instructed, resting his hands on your hips, urging your movements while also allowing you to depend on him for help. "You feel so good, Carlos," you panted.

You heard some shuffling around you again but you couldn't move your gaze away from watching your pussy engulf Carlos' cock over and over again.

However, you were startled once you felt a cool sensation prodding your ass; Charles' fingers coated in lube. "Need you to relax, baby," you could hear Lando's words and he was quick to come into your view, stroking his dick to the sight of you filled by his former teammate.

He grabbed your hand off of Carlos' shoulder, guiding it towards his cock. Already slick with his precum, you could easily move your hand up and down, watching his reaction with hooded eyes.

Charles' free hand wrapped around your throat from behind while he whispered in your ear, "we're gonna fill up all of your holes, darling."

Groaning, you nodded, "please," a word that you had repeatedly spoken to the point where it sounded like a broken record. "You want that?" One of them asked, but you couldn't focus on whose voice it was. "Fill me up, please," your words turning into a moan as Carlos shifted underneath you, reaching deeper inside.

Releasing the grasp on your throat, Charles focused on opening you up with his fingers, for you to be able to take his cock in your ass while Carlos continued pounding your pussy.

Lando replaced Charles' hand, grabbing the back of your neck, threading his fingers in your hair to bring you close for a filthy kiss. Tongues and teeth clashing, he slightly bit down on your bottom lip, sucking and pulling on it for a moment before letting go.

Without any words exchanged, your boyfriend guided your mouth towards his cock, filling up two out of three of your holes. It took you a moment before you actually started moving your head up and down, moaning and drooling on his cock because of Carlos' upward thrusts.

Charles removed his fingers, having deemed to have stretched you out enough then coating his dick with a good amount of lube. With one hand palming and spreading your ass, he used the other to guide his cock into you. Your eyes welled up with tears, not entirely painful but almost overwhelmed with being filled everywhere at once.

Your body was quickly calmed down by Lando, Charles, and Carlos as they moved their hands all over you in soothing motions. Charles began thrusting when you nodded because you were unable to speak while Lando's dick was in your mouth.

Your muffled groans sounded distant to you, mind foggy, but you had never felt so full and aware before.

With a warning, Lando filled your mouth with cum, which you swallowed greedily without hesitation. Now, with your mouth unoccupied, you couldn't hold back on your moans. "Gonna cum," you warned, knowing you won't last long, still sensitive from your previous orgasms.

Charles' fingers reached your chest, teasing and pinching your nipples while Carlos rested his palms on your cheeks, wiping away your tears with his thumb.

Your pace stuttered as you came around his cock, and Carlos took the reins and thrusted upwards, allowing you to ride out your orgasm. "Fuck, where do you want us?" Charles asked, tethering on the edge and based on Carlos' stuttering pace, you knew he was too.

Your next words pushed both over the edge, "inside." Slumping forwards, you felt both Ferrari drivers filling you up with their cum. "Fucking hell, that was hot," Lando commented, leaning closer to brush away the strands of hair stuck on your forehead due to sweat.

Charles and Carlos carefully eased you off their cocks, with Lando helping you lie down on the bed which you immediately melted into.

It was unbearable for you to be completely empty after being entirely filled. Mustering up all your strength, you held your arms out for your boyfriend, who immediately joined you on the bed, whispering praises in your ear.

Meanwhile, Carlos and Charles decided to clean you up by wiping the cum that had leaked out of your holes with a damp towel. They saw the bruises from their grasps on you in the heat of the moment and couldn't help but smile, knowing they were the cause of it.

You hoped, as you drifted off to sleep, that the three of them would share the podium more frequently, and therefore, share you as well.

Taglist based on the form (let me know if you would like to be removed) @lochnoch @llando4norris @monsieurbacteria6 @namgification @lilymurphy03 @sargeantdumbass @evlkking @jointhehunt67 @wonnou @nikfigueiredo

✧ 𝐇𝐞𝐚𝐯𝐲 || brock purdy ♔

summary: after a devastating loss, brock feels this emotional toll on him, weighing down on him. and y/n is the one who helps him through it.

warnings: the super bowl ('23), the chiefs (mentions), sad brock, sad

publish date: 02/12/24

notes: you all wanted this and that's all i'm going to say. jk um, i cried a lot while writing this. there tends to be a little trend of hatred towarsd the chiefs but um you should've expected that. you're welcome. (don't worry, there's fluff at the end bc i can't control myself) | add yourself to the taglist ➺ taglist! (i don't have an nfl right now but maybe i'll add one in the future)

main masterlist

Her heart broke as soon as the Chiefs got their last first down, but in reality she knew from the moment that Moody had to kick the field goal that the game was over. She had hopes, of course, for their defense, but she knew. She had wished she was at home, able to turn off the TV to hide the disappointed look on Brock’s face, but she couldn’t. She grabbed tightly onto Kristin’s hand, tears glistening in both of their eyes. The two watched in mock horror as Hardman caught the ball, Chiefs fans erupting in cheers. 

Niners fans sat, or stood, in shock as the people around them hugged and laughed with one another. They felt numb, eyes completely unfocused from the scene in front of them. Some fans ran their hands over their faces, through their hair, and under their eyes. Some fans stared angrily at the Chiefs fans, they had no right to win.

Kristin wrapped her friend into a hug, unable to stop her tears as well. Y/n had been with Brock through it all, through high school, through college, through his draft, through his rookie season, through everything. All she wanted for him was to win this game. He didn’t deserve this, he had done nothing to prove himself time after time again, and now he was going to be shit on because he didn’t make a third down conversion. 

She pulled away and toyed with the band around her finger, their anniversary date engraved on the inside. Her hand moved to her necklace next as she stole a glance down at the field, feeling the outline of the 13 on her fingers. Brock was walking off the field and she couldn’t see his face but she knew what it looked like. It wasn’t a face she liked to see, it made her cry silently at night while Brock slept next to her or if he was across the country. 

She hadn’t felt so infuriated when they announced who the Super Bowl MVP was, she wanted to yell at all the Chiefs fans around them, tell them that it was just a bit of dumb luck. She wanted to scream at them for thinking that they were everything when they weren’t, for thinking about no one but themselves. She had come from a family who experienced heartbreak in sports like no other, did they know how that felt? To watch their team lose? To watch the love of their life lose and think that he wasn’t good enough? Listen to him deteriorate himself with thought after thought? Did anyone stop to think about the players, their families, their fans? She wanted to scream at fans who didn’t care about the game, the ones who were there to see Taylor and her alone. She wanted to yell at the fans who mocked the niners, the ones who cursed at them, the ones who gave them shit. She wanted to yell at everyone and everything. 

Tears streamed down her face and not once did she even attempt to wipe them off. She walked with Kristin out of the suite, holding each other’s hands in support. She could feel people’s eyes on her but she couldn’t care less, was she not allowed to be devastated for her fiancé? She knew Brock wouldn’t want to see her right now, he was too caught up in his own thoughts. She waited patiently outside Allegiant Stadium, hands shoved in her jean jacket Kristin had made for her.

When she noticed Brock walking towards her, she made sure that she stood strong, not letting him see how upset she was. He reached her in a matter of five seconds, instantly bringing her into a hug. She felt her shoulder dampen, sighing internally. He didn’t let out many tears, just a few, before he pulled back and wiped his eyes, “You ready?”

She placed a frown on her face and nodded, reaching for his hand, “Hotel, home, dinner?”

“Hotel please.” He gripped tightly to his hand and they made their way to a hotel room they had booked. They didn’t want to stay with the rest of the team no matter the outcome of the game.

She drove to the hotel, knowing how Brock got when he was angry or upset. His left hand was attached to her left, not letting it go for a second besides when they got in the car. Her gaze shifted between him and the road, trying not to crash in the meantime. Every time she snuck a glance at him, he looked sadder than before. She could see him fidgeting with some of her rings that she had on along with the bracelet he had gotten her when they won the Championship. 

When she pulled into the parking spot, the two stayed there, sitting in silence. As the minutes passed, she started to get nervous about how the night was going to go. If she was going to be able to get him to take a shower, to eat, to sleep. She heard him sniffle, it was quiet but still audible for her, You wanna go up?”

He nodded, not trusting his voice to talk. They once again detached their hands for a brief second before they reconnected. As they entered the room, she realized how much of a mess she left it in the morning. She went to apologize but Brock locked himself in the bathroom. Then she heard the shower turning on, the water hitting the floor. She could only hope that he was going to be quick.

She changed out of her game clothes into one of the outfits she brought for lounging around. She listened as Brock showered, the water calming her nerves a little. She didn’t turn the TV on, didn’t put music on, just sat and stared as she waited. A couple of minutes later she heard something fall, and ran to go see what it was, “Brock, honey, are you okay?”

She got no response back and she sighed, attempting to open the door. He must’ve unlocked it from the time she walked away until now. She walked in and saw Brock curled up into a ball on the ground, his suit still on. She wrapped him tightly in her arms, not wanting to let go. She buried his head into her shoulder, placing his hands on her arms that rested around his shoulders and on his chest. His sobs were violent, mumbling incoherent words and noises. 

If her heart could break anymore it would, she thought it could’ve shattered right there and then. His breathing grew heavy, unable to control it anymore. He clawed at her arms as a way to let her know it was hurting, “Hey, I’m here. It’s okay, baby.”

She kissed his head, moving one of her hands to run through his hair. He shook his head, not believing a single thing. When he had regained a bit of control he whispered out to her, “It hurts, y/n/n.”

She had to hold back tears, blinking them away as quickly as possible, “I know, sweetheart. It’s okay, we’re okay. I’m right here with you. You don’t have to do it alone.”

Eventually, his breathing evened out as he clung to her, listening to her heartbeat. When she heard the way his breathing regulated, she ran a hand over his chain, the one that had her initials on it,”I’ll always be here for you, okay?”

He nodded before she spoke again, “You want me to shower with you?”

“Please.” His voice came out desperate and a little squeaky from the crying and lack of use. 

She helped him up, taking his suit jacket off and hanging up in the closet of the room. When she came he had already discarded the rest of his suit, handing it over to her. 

✧༺✎༻∞

After Brock had slipped his sweatpants back on, they both sat in the bed, covers pulled over their legs. Y/n looked through her phone for restaurants nearby, “What do you want to eat?”

He shrugged, not particularly hungry at the time. He knew that she would give him a hassle if he didn’t say anything though, “Pizza?”

It was simple enough, both of them liked it and it was an easy thing to find. She nodded in response, going to place the order. They watched whatever was on TV, avoiding anything to do with football entirely. However, with it being Super Bowl Sunday there were no other sports on besides reruns. So they found a crappy TV show to watch, both of them criticizing it as they ate their pizza. 

As the sun went down and darkness settled behind it, they lay in bed Brock asking to hold her. She agreed happily, whatever would make him feel better. His right arm flung over her as they laid on their left sides, his hand tracing patterns into her forearm. It was silent for a while, they could both hear the AC blowing softly.

Brock’s mind was racing with all sorts of thoughts. The good ones were primarily outweighed by the happy ones, not allowing him for even a second to be happy with his girl in his arms. He couldn’t help the thoughts that told him that he wasn’t good enough, that blamed him for the outcome of the game, that told him he shouldn’t be in the NFL, he was just a fluke. 

He tightened his grasp on her as the thoughts kept coming and coming, “Brock?”

“Hmm?”

“What are you thinking back there?”

“Nothing.”

“Uh huh, sure. Now what’s really going on?”

“What if I am just as everyone says? What if I am just a pretty boy football player? A fluke? It’s my fault, it’s all my fault. I failed, y/n. I failed myself, I failed the coaches, I failed my teammates, I failed their families, I failed the fans. I failed you.”

She couldn’t take it anymore, the weight that he was carrying was unnecessary, it was too much for him. He did everything he could and more. She turned around, facing him as she looked dead in her eyes, “You listen to me, Brock Purdy. You are fucking amazing. You shouldn’t care what anyone else says, because you know what? They don’t matter. They don’t matter now and they won’t matter when you’re older.

“I get that everyone was banking on you to lead them to a victory and you led them to the best of your ability. You can’t blame yourself for the defense not holding them off, you can’t blame yourself for any penalty that may have happened, and you can’t blame yourself for not getting that third-down conversion. You did your best today, Brock, and I am so so so proud of you for that.”

“But what if my best isn’t good enough?”

“Isn’t good enough for who? For me? For Shanahan? For the team? You are good enough, Brock. You were the fucking 262 pick and you made the Super Bowl in your second year. You had 1387 yards in 9 games for a rookie. You had 4424 yards this year! And just in the  regular season. You are the fifth overall quarterback right now, you know how fucking amazing that is. You are beyond believable, Brock. 

“And this might be harsh but so what you didn’t win this year? It’s your second year and just making it this far was incredible. Yes, it would’ve been cool if you won and got MVP but you have so many more years to do that. It might not be today, it might not be next year or the year after that, but one year you will go out and win that because you deserve it.”

Brock’s eyes watered, caught off guard by her speech. He couldn’t even think of how lucky he was to have her at this moment. The way she had memorized his stats, the way she knew how he felt before he even knew, the way she was able to comfort him when he thought there was no coming back from it.

He kissed her head, “I love you.”

“I love you too, baby.”

He reached for her left hand and twisted the ring on her finger, “I can’t wait to marry you.”

They shared a smile and then she was pulled in tighter to him, “Thank you.”

“For?”

“For always being there for me. Through high school, college, the draft, rookie season, everything. You mean so much to me, more than you would ever know.”

IN A RELATIONSHIP WITH THE F1 DRIVERS

Wondering what it would be like to date the f1 drivers? 😏

___________________________________________

warnings: not much, fluff?, implied smut, (smut?), dirty thoughts, mentions of breeding kink, cursing.

Max Verstappen

-he's your biggest fan. in every way possible. he loves to support you, to admire you, to see you happy.

-you're his biggest love. he didn't think he could fall for someone that hard. he's completely whipped and everyone knows it.

-gets jealous a lot, but doesn't always show it, although you know better. he doesn't like it when other men look at what's his.

-that's why he has decided that from now on every man will know who you belong to. either by covering your soft neck in bruises or making you walk out of the bathroom with your cunt stuffed of his cum. he absolutely enjoys seeing you squirm all night and try not to make it obvious to everyone in the room that his seed is dripping down your bare legs.

-he loves how submissive you are for him. of course you love being a spoiled brat sometimes just for the fun of it, because then he gets feral. and you always know it’s gonna end in a lot of orgasms.

“I thought you wanted to be a brat? What happened, schat? Fucked your tiny brain out?” his thrusts hit a spot inside your pussy that makes you see stars. He slaps your cheek to get your attention, knowing you’re going dumb already.

All you can do is cry out and shake your head. You can’t talk. You can’t even think. You’re too busy trying to jerk away from his harsh thrusts.

You know he doesn’t like it when you don’t answer him.

“Talk.” he snaps, squeezing your cheeks tightly then slapping you again.

“YES daddy. Sorry for b-being a brat. Please, please! Make me cum!”

Lewis Hamilton

-spoils you all the time; expensive jewelry, cars, clothes, lingerie, vacations… whatever you need or want. also, his card is always on your phone. he insists you use it anytime you want.

“Get yourself something nice, baby… I want to see you dripping with my wealth. You are my beautiful little wife.”

-will always have a hand on you. in the car while he's driving, on your b*tt when you're walking, on your thigh when you're having dinner with your parents and his fingers successfully rub a spot on your clit through your panties that makes you twitch and moan every time. thankfully, your parents were oblivious.

-kisses the ground you walk on. he's a grown man and isn't afraid to show you how a real man loves his woman.

-especially when he's between your legs, showing you how you deserve to be treated.

“Come on, princess… gimme one more. You’d do anything for daddy, isn’t that right princess?” he softly rubs your cheek with his finger, thrusting a little bit more inside your tight and overstimulated cunt.

“D-daddy… too much. I don’t think I can…” you whimper stupidly, still slightly shaking with the intensity of the last orgasm you just had about 2 minutes ago.

He smirks. “Of course you can, baby. Don’t you want daddy’s babies? Hm?”

He loves how pathetic you get after a few good orgasms. He knows he’s the best you ever had. He can make you cum anywhere, anytime. You let him do whatever he wants to you.

Carlos Sainz

-can be possessive at times, but loves to show you off. you are his most prized possession.

when he met you, he knew he wanted to date to get married, not like the relationships he had before.

-takes you everywhere with him; vacations, races. he can't stand being away from you.

-he secretly fantasizes about you carrying his children. until one night after a baby shower when he confesses to you.

“Mi amor… You don’t know how beautiful you looked today with my niece in your arms. I can’t wait to get you pregnant. Make you my precious wife.”

His touch on your thigh gives you goosebumps, and you suddenly feel impossibly aroused by his confession. He didn’t even need to ask. You’d give him as many kids as he wants.

He recognizes the look in your eyes. The craving, the lust. He knows you like the back of his hand. “You’d like that, no? To walk around all round and heavy with my child. To make these tiny tits swell and burst with the sweetest milk…” he grabs at your breasts and squeezes, making you moan in response.

“Yes, papi. I want to have your babies… please touch me…”

Lando Norris

-you're his best friend. his rock, the girl of his dreams.

-datind lando is the most intense experience of your life. he is a fierce lover. but loves to be soft for you sometimes

-he loses his mind when you're being bossy with him, showing off your bold attitude.

-especially when you're making him beg for you.

“What did you say?” You smirk, hovering on top of him, teasing him sometimes with a swift rub of your wet pussy on his erect and red cock.

Poor baby, you edged him for too long and he couldn’t take it anymore. His cock twitches every few seconds and you know he isn’t going to last too long.

“Please, baby… fuck, please.” His voice is hoarse when he talks, probably from all the moans you pulled out of him already. “Let me fuck you, I need it. I have so much cum for you baby… Please.”

You moan at his words and decide to stop the torture. You needed him too. Nothing compares to the way he stretches your sweet little pussy. Quickly, you align yourself with his cock and sink in, making the both of you moan loudly.

Charles Leclerc

-you're eye candy for this man. ever since he saw you he couldn't take his eyes off you.

-he loves to have you at the races. he's constantly trying to show off and be the best, because he loves the look on your face when he wins or he's doing good.

-he's going to be the most romantic man you've ever had. he's always touching you, always tells you what an angel you are, how beautiful you look, what a good girl you always are for him…

-ESPECIALLY if you’re bent over his lap while he’s driving and you’re sloppily sucking on his cock.

“Mm, fuck. That’s is, mon ange, suck my cock. You’re such a naughty girl.” he mocks you almost, and it makes you even more eager to show him who’s in charge. for once.

Gagging a little, you take more of his length in your mouth, forcing your throat open. Suddenly, you feel his hand slap your ass hard and you can’t control the loud moan that threatened to escape you. Your throat squeezes his head perfectly then, and he lifts his hips up a little, hissing at the sensation.

“Gonna make me cum, baby, fuck.”

Your efforts double when you hear that, and you wrap your small hand around his cock, starting to pump his hard, heavy shaft. Your swollen lips are still wrapped around his head, licking and sucking on it desperately, waiting for his hot, salty cum.

The car stops abruptly and you assume he just pulled over. His hand then snatches your hair in a messily done ponytail and forces your head down his cock, making you cry and gag uncontrollably.

“Take it. You greedy girl. Take my fucking cum. Fuck.”

Take Your Medicine Sweetheart.

Summary: Going behind Tommy's back you decide to terminate your pregnancy as you did not want to raise a child around him or around the company he keeps. When Tommy finds out he ensures that you will be pregnant, and you will carry to term, on his terms.

Warnings: Noncon, very Dark!Tommy, blood play, gun play, p in v, anal sex, physical abuse, Tommy is very OOC, misogyny, abortion, breeding, forced pregnancy, forced marriage.

GIF credit: thesoldiersminute

This is a very dark fic, please don't read if any of the warnings are triggers for you.

“Darling, are you alright? You look rather pale?” Your surroundings began to spin, and it looked as if there were three of Tommy. Something wasn’t right.

“I-I- think someone put something in my- my-“

The last thing you remembered before your eyes closed was Tommy’s hand on your thigh while he looked at you in satisfaction with a sadistic smile.

When you awoke Tommy was standing before you shirtless at the end of the bed, cigarette hanging from his plush lips.

“Good morning sunshine, how you feeling?” Your head was pounding as fear entered your body at the sight of your intimidating husband Tommy paced the room, letting you gather yourself.

“All you had to do was follow my orders, eh? But you couldn’t do that. Instead you thought it would be a grand idea to go behind my back and dispose of our child.” A lump began to form in your throat.

How did he know?

Who told him?

“I have eyes and ears everywhere I know your every move Y/N. The perks of my reputation in Birmingham, people crawl on their hands and needs to please me, you know that more than anyone. Whether you like to or not is not of my concern. You’re my wife. Nonetheless Y/N.” He aimed his cigarette at you.

“Nonetheless. You have duties that you will learn to bare.” His eyebrows etched together, yet he hasn’t broken eye contact with you once.

Placing his cigarette down in an ashtray on the dresser, he settled his hands on the soft, delicate mattress. He leaned in so he was directly in front of our face.

Pressing your lips together firmly, trying to hold back tears, you attempted to look in a different direction, anywhere but him.

“You are going to bare my fucking child. If you even think to attempt this little stunt again. I will put you in chains to this god damn bed until you give birth.” In a quick fight or flight moment you jumped up off the bed and ran for your life to get out of this house.

Tommy chuckled darkly to himself, he always loves a challenge, and you hadn’t known of the little side medication he put in your tea this morning. Once you reached the stairs, your head started to feel like it was going to explode from how fast and hard it was pounding.

All energy in you seemed to evaporate, making you almost drop to your knees at the top of the stairs.

The floors creaked behind you, he took his time approaching you as if you were his prey and he wanted to see how far you could get. The sight of you so weak and fragile, sent Tommy into overdrive.

You were his little play toy that he could use however he please. Leaning down behind you, you felt his jaw rest right in the crook of your neck. His frigid skin against yours almost felt soothing to how much you were sweating and out of breath.

“If you want to play games my love, I can play games.” All of a sudden you felt his foot kick into your back, sending you dwindling down the hardwood steps, taking the breath out of you.

Once at the bottom, you managed to turn yourself around so that you were facing the steps but your foot felt like every bone was shattered within.

Tommy stood at the top of the staircase, the moonlight peeling in through the windows behind him, creating a menacing, dark silhouette. “You’re only making things harder for yourself my love.” He paced down the stairs slowly toward you. “If you had just complied with what I wanted we wouldn’t be here now would we?”

In a fast motion, his hand was gripping your delicate hair, causing you to yelp out in pain. As you kicked and screamed, he slammed your head into the ground. All movement in you froze when the sound of a gun cocking echoed throughout the house, as though it seemed to your ears.

“Tommy- please-please don’t do this.”

“Do I have your attention now sweetheart?” You stayed silent.

His free hand slid up your dress, revealing your bloodied underwear. The feeling of guilt and shame washing over you like a hurricane. The sight of it made Tommy’s anger rise.

With a swift movement of his hand the fabric of your underwear and your delicate folds underneath Thomas grabbed between his fingers, twisting them and pinching them while you screamed. “You feel that, eh! This is fucking mine. Your body and what you do with it. My decision.” His grip tightened, sending a burning sensation running through your stomach, he tugged at it over and over.

“Do we fucking understand that, you little fucking whore!”

“Yes! Yes! I understand! All yours Tommy.” He released his grip, and tugged down your panties. The blood was still oozing out of you, slowly starting to create a puddle on the floor. He tossed the gun to the side. The sound of his belt unbuckling came from behind you. You couldn’t stop the tears as they were still continuously falling.

“I’m gonna fucking breed you over and over again, until I’m satisfied and think you’ve learnt your lesson.” You were too weak to fight. Tommy was too strong compared to you, you didn’t stand a chance. Without any warning he plunged his length into, taking your breath away.

The thickness, and length of Thomas was too overwhelming, it often hurt but would start to feel pleasurable and it made you sick to give him the idea that this is what you want.

Vigorously he slammed his lengthy, thick member into you over and over again, while his nails dug into your hips.

You could feel his balls, slapping against your pussy while his length stretched out your tight walls.

Involuntarily your soaked insides were clenching around his dick, making him grin behind you. “You like this you little fucking whore. Like when I fuck your cunt.”

He flipped you over onto your back. He was towering over you, biting his bottom lip. Your pussy was throbbing, as he continued his pace. He filled your sexual needs in ways you’d never felt before, his length, his experience. He knew just all the right places to hit and you hated it.

Grabbing your chin, he forced you to look at all the blood, and more importantly he wanted you to see how much you cum for him, how much he satisfies that tight little hole of yours. It was a reminder you weren’t going to get this anywhere else.

Your stomach began to twist and you were having an internal warfare in your mind.

How could someone that you find so disgusting, so frightened of, make you feel so good.

How can he do this to you every time.

He knew you hated him, knew you did not want to have sex with him, and he’d put you in these positions to where you’d be moaning for him, moaning his name against your own will.

Lapping his fingers under your dripping hole, he took his bloody fingers and shoved them in your mouth. “Suck.”

A wave of nausea washed through you that you could not hold back, turning your head your stomach dispensed of any remains it contained onto the floor.

Without a moment to think you felt two fingers enter your ass, the same ones he had just put in your mouth.

You writhed in pain on the floor, screaming in agony, cheeks red and tear stained.

Thomas stopped all movement aside from pumping his fingers in and out of your tight ass. Your inner walls we’re screaming at you to stop this. Your ass was stinging, and felt like it was on fire.

“Ride me.” Blinking at him, you were trying to process what he just said, you felt like you were on the verge of passing out.

Gasping from the pain of his fingers working your ass relentlessly, you did as you were told to the best of your ability while you lay still on the ground.

You began to move your hips, doing all the work yourself. Taking his length thrust after thrust. Your walls were starting to clench around him, your pussy throbbing from the girth of him.

A wave of pleasure rode through you, your inner muscles starting to spasm just as the tip of his dick found that sweet spot.

You couldn’t help but close your flushed eyelids, while your breathing began to pick up, along with the movements of your hips.

“Atta girl.”

Tommy stared down, watching you take all of him begrudgingly, licking his lips in amusement as he could tell by your facial expressions your body was betraying you.

“Hate me so much look at you fucking me like there’s no tomorrow.”

Disgusted and ashamed was how you felt. Your own body was working against you, and you couldn't help it.

“Fuck you! You fucking piece of shit!” A stinging pain rushed through your cheek as he sent a powerful slap the side of your face.

“Tell me how you really feel Y/N, with my cock buried in you.” He wrapped his hand around your throat to quiet you as he continued to drill into you deeply and roughly. Causing your breasts to bounce intensely.

“Gonna cum in you and make you nice and full again.” You shook your head back and forth in disgust.

His movements sped up more than you thought possible. Involuntarily, you felt your pussy getting more wet with every time he rammed into your sweetness. You tightened around his rather large member, and you could tell he was close as well by the way he was moaning and the way his thighs twitched against your, bruised skin.

“Let me go Tommy, just- just pull out and we can talk about it!”

Your voice was shaky and hoarse, you did not want to bring a child up in this environment, nor did you think Tommy would be a suitable father just by the way he treated you.

Ignoring your pleas, pleasure rose through his body, his stomach tightening up as the mixture of how wet you are and how much you were tightening around him took over every thought in his body.

Pinning your wrists down, he thrusted into you three more times before you felt his warm liquid ooze into you while his moans became more heavy.

You made it through, you did your job and got him off, now you wanted him off of you and to be left alone.

“I’m not finished with you yet. Now it’s time for your punishment my sweet Y/N.” Tommy placed his hands on your hips and flipped you over onto your stomach, forcing your ass up in the air.

He was kind enough to spit onto his hand, but what came after that you weren’t ready for.

Placing the tip of his dick in front of your hole, he popped the tip into you, making every part of your body tense and clenching up.

Releasing a muffled whine from the sudden intrusion, you had never felt more frozen than you did now. Panic set in, and you tried to wiggle your way out.

“Where do you think you are going to go?” To ensure that you’d stay put, without any hesitation or warning, he pushed the rest of his length into your uncomplying, inexperienced hole.

Your screams filled the house as your ass was being stretched in a way that you wasn't imaginable, it felt like he was tearing your skin a part little by little. “Stop! Stop! Pl-please just stop!”

“I’m afraid I can’t do that until I think you’ve learnt your lesson.” Nails scratching at the wooden floors, you seized for this to be over. Tommy placed his hands on both your ass cheeks as they bounced up and down and watched as he forced all of his length in your small hole. Stretching it beyond belief.

Your blood painted his dick and balls a dark cherry red and now he was going to paint your insides that color. “Fuck, such a filthy little whore, taking my dick in your ass.”

Tommy ignored your sobs and continued to drive into you, the girth of his dick feeling like it was obliterating you inside and out.

It felt like the sensitive walls in your ass were being sliced open as Tommy continued to slam his dick into your tight used ass over and over again, until eventually you felt him release himself one more time, covering your insides with his warm seed.

He collapsed onto you, still buried deep within you. Combing back his hair, he was trying to catch his breath. You were a broken woman, the pain swayed within every part of you.

Giving you a light smack on your cheek, he stood up, picking his pants up off the floor, looking down at your fucked out, used body that he claimed as his own. “Let this serve as a reminder. You’re my property Y/N. That’s never gonna change my love.”

The last thing your dreary eyes saw was the wooden clock on the wall, time passing ever so slowly as the pain began to be too much. Your eyes drifted off as you went unconscious on the bloodied floor.

When you awoke, Thomas was at your bedside with the doctor. He informed her that you had, had a miscarriage and wanted to try again, but maybe it was too much too soon for you. “Mrs Shelby, I’m going to be your doctor and this is your nurse. Mr. Shelby has informed me of what’s been going on. The good news is, at this stage even with the miscarriage, if you two have started trying, you are still very fertile from the time that Mr. Shelby told me you had the miscarriage. I-“

“Thomas. Please call me Thomas.” The doctor nodded and smiled, You could tell she was blushing.

Nausea fulfilled you, and your eyes felt heavy.

“It also appears that your ankle, is sprained, Thomas informed me you took a stumble down the stairs. That may have been what have brought on the miscarriage, so we also prescribed you with pain relief medication, and wrapped it up for you.”

You had no one, Thomas charmed his way into every woman, and every man was too much of a coward and frightened of him to do anything to help you. You were certain he did not tell them about anything other than that you had a supposed miscarriage and sprained ankle.

“Now, Mrs Shelby? We’re going to send you home with estrogen pills, that should help with conceiving. Just maybe next time, take it easy, take it slow, and don’t overwork yourself. If you follow all that you should be okay.” You thanked her sarcastically as she exited the room.

Without your consent Thomas helped you change for you to go home. The weather was cold, as the wind blew the autumn leaves around the dying grass.

Thomas was by your side, arm wrapped around your waist walking you out. He didn’t want you to fall, as he knew you were very well still in recovery from the following night.

He was very precautious with you once you were “home”, and you had no energy to fight him anymore.

He drew a hot bath for you and placed a set of towels on the sink while Frances in the kitchen made you a small snack with tea and crackers to help you relax Tommy had assisted you in washing your hair, and cleaning your body, every part of it.

His touch sent shivers down your spine, but you knew it had to be this way. There was no escaping Thomas Shelby.

He tucked you into bed and told Frances to make sure you stay hydrated and eat while he works during the day and to inform him, if you want to go out, see a friend, even come downstairs.

Sliding into the bed next to you, he turned off the bedside lamp and pulled your aching body close to his side.

Regardless of what he did to you, the feeling of being held in warm, strong arms helped you fall asleep as comfortably as you possibly could.

The following morning Frances had made you a full course breakfast and tea, and had your pills placed in a cup next to a glass of juice. “Good morning my love.” Thomas walked into the room dressed in his black and white suit, and his shiny shoes with a smile plastered on his face that money couldn’t buy.

His hair was still wet from the shower he must’ve taken. He sat down in the seat next to you, placing a kiss to your soft lips.

Glancing down at the cup of medication there was a pill that wasn't one your doctor had prescribed. Your eyes began to water, and your hands started shaking.

You eyed the mysterious pill, wondering if that was the sedative he had put in your tea yesterday morning. You glanced up at Tommy, who was watching you intently with his empty, bright blue eyes.

“Do as the doctor instructed.” Tommy unfolded the newspaper taking a sip of his coffee before glancing over at you still staring at the cup. His jaw clenched as he eyed the cup, looking at you without any sign of remorse from last night.

“I need you to be relaxed for later when I breed you more. Take your medicine sweetheart.”

Mistakes Can Cost You

Pairing: F1 x Reader, Slight Mick x Reader

Rating: PG-13

Warnings: Jules crash mentioned, angst, suggestion of death, grief, crash, hospital, ICU, incorrect race timeline, Suzuka, FIA, etc. READ AT YOUR OWN DISCRETION

Synopsis: Mistakes can cost you, but they also teach everyone how fast things can change, and sometimes let’s you see what’s there and not right with what you love.

“Okay, Y/n, Sainz has crashed; they're bringing out a safety car. Be careful.” Your radio team clicks off, and you shake your head.

“This is fucking ridiculous; red flag the damn race; it's so hard to see anything!” You tell your ream, furious that FIA cared more about getting that finish than the driver's safety.

“We know, but be careful.” Your team repeats, not wanting to add more fuel to the fire.

You scuff and head around the corner; you don't know what went wrong. You didn't even see the damn thing. Hitting the gas slightly, you see a flash before slamming on your brakes. “FUCK!” you yell before feeling yourself become crushed.

No one knew what happened all that they all got called back to the paddock immediately, the other drivers that passed by couldn't even see your crash. “What the hell happened?” Sebastian asks as the other drivers gather in a media room, with no media.

“Oh God.” Lance’s voice strangled and reaches everyone as they turned to the TV. Finally, noticing what the camera was covering.

“Is her car....oh god she's trapped under the crane.” Lewis whispers, covering his mouth, the others staring at the screen as it captures everyone and the medics scrambling not sure what to do.

“Is she okay?” Charles asks to some of the workers in the room. “DAMMIT! IS SHE OKAY?” Charles yells, making the workers jump and run out of room to find out any information.

“This can't be happening, not again not here, not during this weather, not again.” Charles pleads as Carlos and Pierre lead him to sit down as he starts to tremble. “She’ll be okay, she will be.” Pierre whispers to no one, more so just saying the words to comfort himself.

“They can't contact her, she's still trapped underneath, and they have no way of knowing if she's seriously injured; they're working slow not to cause any more damage and because of the rain.” Some worker reports to them after 20 minutes before leaving the room.

“Is she going to die?” Mick asks quietly to Seb, who is sitting next to the young German. Mick and you had become close due to your relative age, but also, you both enjoyed the same things, and Mick and ton just became close.

“I don't know, buddy,” Seb whispers back, pulling the young boy closer to him, wanting to give him some semblance of comfort. Mick just leans in close to Sebastian’s hold sending silent prays for you to come out okay.

“What the fuck was a crane doing out on the tracks anyway? Especially in this weather?” George yells at the TV feeling utterly useless in that moment, watching the replay of the crash.

“Guys.” Angela, Lewis's friend, announces as she enters the room. “What's wrong?” Lewis jumps up, the others crowding around her.

“She.... she's out of the car, but it's...bad.... awful...prepare yourselves.” She mumbles before walking out leaving the guys to stare after her.

“No.” Charles sobs sitting down, sobs racking his body, trying to curl in on himself as everyone cries and prays for the best.

It was the pain that woke you up, the pain of your entire body being on fire. But you knew realistically you weren't in any pain; you couldn't be. You'd woken up three days ago, and the pain medication you were on was enough to knock a damn Bull Elephant off its feet. Sadly you were in the ICU and weren't allowed any visitors; how badly you wanted to see the boys and hold them somehow. You didn't care that 5 of your ribs were broken, a shattered right hand, a head injury with a concussion, and a collapsed lung that they performed surgery on to repair.

Your favorite nurse walks in smiling and sits down next to you. “Hey sweetie, feeling a little better?” She asks, already knowing you probably weren't.

“Hurts,” you grumble, and she nods her head, pushing some hair out of your face.

“Some people are here to see you; I snuck them in.” She smiles, and you see bright red in the corner of your eye; without meaning to, your heart rate picks up quickly as you start to cry seeing Charles and Carlos.

“Princess,” Carlos whispers and sits down next to you while Charles stands at the door, his entire face stained from crying.

“You need to stop crying; you're causing yourself so much pain,” Carlos whispers, kissing your forehead.

You close your eyes and smile slightly; your fave is bruised all over, and any facial expressions make the pain worse. “Charlie.” You mumble, twitching a finger his way. Charles looks up at you, fresh tears falling on his side as he stumbles his way into a seat next to your bed.

“We thought we lost you.” He cries, careful not to put any weight on your body, his head buried into the bed.

“I'm okay; I need an extra couple of months to heal, and ill be back out on the track.” you joke, but the boys nod their heads, not wanting to argue.

“Well, looks like we weren't the first ones, Kid.” Sebastian's face fills the doorway with bright blue eyes and blonde hair behind him.

“Hye,” Mick whispers as they both fill the room, pulling up two more chairs.

The four of them stayed with you for most of the day before visiting hours were over. But you were happy to have the company, even if it was for a little while.

The FIA had issued a formal apology but tried to throw some of the blame on you for excessive speed under a safety car. That was very short-lived when the other drivers, teams, and fans became enraged at the thought of them blaming you.

It's been a couple of months, but you were finally on your feet again and able to travel, but you still couldn't drive yet, not due to injury, but you did need some time to heal completely, and the team allowed you just that. You decided it was time to show your face again to the public after some private time, and you chose to do that at COTA. It was appropriate as everything was more relaxed now since Max had won the championship.

Walking into the paddock, of course, people stared and pointed, but you were determined to visit your rock during the entire healing process. “Roscoe!” You tell happily, seeing Lewis’s dog.

Lewis let you take care of Roscoe while you healed, knowing that you'd been home alone and would want the company. Roscoe loved being with you and barked loudly, letting Lewis and the other drivers turn to see Roscoe run for you as you got on your knees to give the boy some love.

“Oh, yellow, my old friend.” You mumble into his fur, kissing his head and giving him the best pets.

“Love the dog more, alright.” Lewis jokes, making you look up. You stand and brush off your knees before kissing Lewis’s cheek as well. “He kept me company; I have to love on him first.” Shrugging your shoulders and giving everyone else a hello.

“I'd love to chat with everyone, but I have to do some interviews.” “Are you serious? All they're going to ask about is the crash.” Lance spits, knowing the main topic for weeks has been you, the crash, and the FIA statement.

“I know, but it's time to get it over with, and I want to support you all without the cloud over my head.” You shuffle your weight, a slight wince from the healing of your ribs, but no one points it out.

“She's right; we're all going to hate this, but it's time,” Seb says and kisses your forehead. He's always been a father figure to you young drivers, and at times overprotective, and if he could help join you and make the reporters behave and not push. But this was your healing process, and you needed to do it alone.

Heading to the media pit, you stop short with your assistant, who stands with you, not saying anything, as they knew you could handle this. “Okay, let's do this.” whispered no one in particular.

“Y/n, y/n! What’s it like surviving death, and not only that but in a crash that was just like Jules Bianchi?” One reporter asks, making you cringe.

“I want to make this very...very....very clear. What happened to Jules and me should've never happened in the first place. And I never want people to compare the two ever again. His family deserves respect when on the topic of his death, and by doing that, im never going to talk about what happened to him and me in the same sentence. Next question.”

“Y/n, will you still be able to race even after the reports of your injuries are released?” Some girl asks.

“Yes, I was allowed to race here at COTA, but...I deemed it too early and needed some more time, but if my team allows it, ill be more than happy to race in Mexico and hopefully win.” You laugh, making the others laugh.

“Is it true that FIA is deciding whether to give you a penalty for the crash?”

“I sure hope not. The race never should've happened, not in those conditions. And the FIA never told anyone the crane was on track. There's also proof that Nando passed the crane TWICE and never once knew it was there. If anything, the FIA should receive a penalty for what they did and for being very inconsistent and unsafe in their rulings.” Everyone stares at you, having never seen a driver call out the FIA so bluntly.

“Y/n, how are you and Mick?” you turn and face the reporter and can't help the blush that covers your face making everyone laugh and smile at you.

It was no secret that Mick was beside you through everything and was always posting little updates for your fans about you, but your friendship was turning into something more that you weren't sure just what yet.

“It's going well, we're close friends, and Sebastian has known us both since kids, but we grew up together, and having them both as a crutch as I healed helped a lot.” you directed the question but still answered it slightly.

“If that's all, I should get going and see everyone before the race.” you laugh and walk off quickly, going to the Haas paddock and seeing that familiar blonde hair.

“So, we're just good friends, hmm?” He asks, not even turning around from the screen.

You huff and shake your head before letting your hands travel up his back, making his tense form relax. “Yes, we are gold friends, just friends who are a little more.” Kissing his back, he turns around, checking you over, making sure you're okay.

“You handled the first question well.” He praises kissing your lips gently.

“Thanks; I knew mistakes could cost me, but I needed to get that over with.” He nods his head before watching you closely.

“Callin, the FIA out was ballsy.” You drop by the head, knowing that would be a problem.

“But, you were right; trying to lay blame on you was horrible; if they come after you, I'll deal with it. Seb will, but you know what I mean.” He makes you giggle and lean up, kissing his cheek.

“Go, race, cowboy, oh, and mistakes can cost you.” You giggle, making him roll his eyes as he gets ready.

“I'll kick your ass in Mexico; it'll be alright.” He laughs as you roll your eyes.

“Be careful.” in a severe tone, Mick looks down at you and stops knowing since the crash; you hate any of them being in one.

“Always.” He bumps your foreheads together before heading to the car.

Watching them all get in the the car, your heart clenches, but you knew they were the best of the best; they'd all be okay, and so would you.

Book Club

Pairing: The grid x driver!reader, Lance Stroll x reader

Summary: A wild goose chase ensues when you are at a meeting with your book club

requests are open (plz send some, i can’t keep only getting ideas while driving 🥺) masterlist

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“Guys, have you seen y/n?” Lance panics, rushing into the McLaren garage. It’s not the first time his girlfriend had disappeared from her garage but he’s always been able to find you a few steps away.

“She’s missing?” Lando leaped out of his chair. “Come on, Oscar, we gotta find her,” Lando drags his teammate out of the garage, following Lance to the Mercedes garage to find George.

“Any y/n sightings?” a very stressed out Lance asks.

“No, but now I am invested,” the Brit tags along in the search, hopping over to the Ferrari garage.

“Mes amis, you seem stressed,” Charles says, looking up from his book.

“Y/n is missing, Lance can’t find his girlfriend,” Oscar sighs, not sure why he isn’t leaving the group.

“No, we must join the quest, Charles,” Carlos says, clapping his teammate on the shoulder.

“Alright, only for y/n,” Charles, like oscar, begrudgingly agrees to join the ‘noble quest’.

Meanwhile, y/n is sitting on the couch, wearing a chunky cardigan and a pair of fashion glasses, sipping tea.

“No, Lizzy was clearly in love with Darcy even then,” Fernando waves his hands. This month’s book was Pride and Prejudice.

“Sure, Fernando,” Valtteri rolls his eyes.

The book club, affectionately called ‘The Old Drivers Club’ started when y/n barged into the Haas garage, claiming she needed their opinions and that she was tired of all the young drivers. Despite her being only 21, she found a home with some of the older drivers in the Paddock. The club consisted of her, Fernando, Valtteri, Kevin, and Nico. Lewis wanted to hold on to his youth, as he claimed, and Checo didn’t quite care for their gossip sessions.

“I still don’t understand how you can go from a 20 year old party animal to a 80 year old grandma overnight,” Kevin teases the young girl, bringing up a common point of conversation (usually her complaining about the younger drivers).

“And I don’t understand how you all don’t find Nico attractive? If I was ten years older, I would be all over him. God damn, what a fine man,” you swoon, causing the German to blush fiercely.

“Yes, yes, someone who could outshine Charles Leclerc in his prime,” Fernando dismisses it with the wave of his hand. You giggle and refocus on the book discussion.

“Nando,” you prompt him, silently asking him to go to the next topic.

“Alright, alright, let’s discuss what was probably y/n’s favorite scene, the confession scene. The second one, not in the rain,” Fernando says, and you shyly look down, the older drivers knowing you too well.

“Max, Checo, have you seen y/n?” Lance asks, even more flustered, half the grid behind him.

“Y/n? Why do you ask?” Max says, looking at his teammate.

“She’s missing!” Lando exclaims causing Checo to laugh.

“No, no. She’s with her book club, in the Haas motor home. I sometimes join them, interesting gossip, but not quite for me, no,” Checo says, looking oddly at the group.

“Her- her book club?” Lance asks, utterly confused.

“Si. Lewis has been invited too, but he claims he is too young,” Checo laughs to himself.

“Sorry mate, a book club?” George asks, a little offended he was never invited.

“And gossip? I’m a little offended I’ve never been invited,” Pierre gasps.

“Well? Is that all,” Max asks, wanting the group to leave his garage.

“Right, well I guess we go to Haas,” Carlos says, quickly thanking the Red Bull drivers.

“VALTTERI!” Your astonished gasp is heard from outside. Your group had moved on to what some think is the more enjoyable part of the evening, the gossip.

“Y/n! Oh thank god, we were worried sick,” Lando dramatically says at the doorway, having opened the door, revealing your group. The five of you look at the other group wildly confused.

“Worried sick?” You ask, looking at them.

“You were missing, I couldn’t find you,” Lance scratches the back of his neck, a little confused.

“I,” you pause before laughing. “Lancelot, you could’ve texted me,” you tell him.

“Why weren’t Pierre and I invited?” George asks, looking accusingly at your group.

“You don’t fit the criteria,” Kevin says, dismissing the question.

“And y/n does?” Pierre asks.

“Yes. When she sits upside down on your couch to gossip and complain about you all, and ask for life advice, then we might consider it,” Nico shakes his head.

“She is the founder of our group,” Valtteri points out.

“You also have to find young Nico attractive, more than current Charles,” Fernando teases, causing the young girl to blush.

“He was!” You defend yourself, and Carlos nods in agreement.

“Your girlfriend, mate. I’m surprisingly glad I tagged along,” Oscar says to Lance, pretty amused at the chaos.

“Out of curiosity, what is your next book?” George asks, your face lighting up.

“We are on a classics kick right now, so we are reading the No Fear version of Romeo and Juliet,” you say excitedly causing George and Charles to groan.

“We can’t join?” Charles asks again.

“Sorry, Leclerc, only room for one hot driver here,” Nico winks at you, causing your cheeks to redden.

“HEY!” most of the drivers in the room take offense to it, Lance mainly because the wink was directed at his girlfriend.

“Alas, if only you didn’t have a wife and kid, and I was ten years older,” you sigh, shaking your head.

“In another life, Mein Liebchen,” Nico sighs as well.

“Alright, I’m stealing back my girlfriend,” Lance pulls you away.

“Lancelot,” you giggle, waving goodbye to your book club.

“It is in these moments that I remember how young she is and how old we are,” Fernando sighs, Lewis taking your seat.

“My bones ache more and more each day, mate,” Lewis shakes his head.

“Welcome to our club, have the first act read by the next race,”

Home

Pyramid Head x Reader

A/N: My first Pyramid Head fic! Hope you enjoy and let me know if you want more!

He was mad. The one thing, the most important one was missing.

He arrived back and put his sword to the side when he noticed. His little Angel, his everything was gone.

You were gone and he couldn’t find you.

Keep reading

Sick

summary: Y/n is sick...

I feel miserable. My head is pounding, my body aches in places I didn't even know could hurt, and my nose is so stuffed up that breathing feels like a full-time job. I'm curled up in bed under a mountain of blankets, feeling like a small, pathetic pile of humanity, when I hear the door creak open.

"Y/n..." Charles's voice is so soft, it's almost a whisper, but it cuts through the fog in my brain easily.

I lift my head just barely to look at him, my eyes puffy and tired. I'm too weak to even form words, so I just let out a pathetic little grunt, which somehow says everything he needs to know.

He smiles — that small, soft smile he only ever uses when he's worried about me — and crosses the room to sit on the edge of the bed. He reaches out, brushing some sweaty hair away from my forehead, his hand cool and comforting.

"You're burning up, baby," he murmurs, more to himself than to me. "Come on. Let's get you cleaned up a little."

I don't have the strength to argue, even though the thought of moving makes me want to cry. Gently, Charles scoops me up like I weigh nothing, cradling me against his chest. I tuck my face into his shoulder, too tired to even be embarrassed by how much I'm leaning on him.

He carries me into the bathroom, already warm from the steam of the bath he must've run earlier. The smell of lavender fills the air — something calming, soothing — and he kneels down with me, setting me softly on the edge of the tub. I blink at him through heavy lashes, feeling like I might fall asleep sitting up.

"Let me help, yeah?" he says quietly, almost like he's asking for permission. I nod weakly.

With hands that are so careful it almost makes me cry, Charles peels my sweat-soaked clothes off, helping me step into the warm water. The second my body hits the heat, I let out a small, broken sigh. It feels so good I could melt right there.

Charles rolls up his sleeves and kneels beside the tub, taking a soft cloth and running it gently over my arms, my back, my face. Every motion is slow, patient, like he's afraid I'll shatter if he's too rough.

"You're doing so good," he whispers, dipping the cloth back into the water and wringing it out carefully. "Just relax, okay?"

I close my eyes, letting myself be cared for. The warmth of the bath, the rhythmic motion of his hands, the quiet sound of his breathing — it all works together to calm the pounding in my head just a little.

After a while, he helps me out, wrapping me immediately in the biggest, fluffiest towel he could find. He dries me off so gently it feels like I'm made of glass, then carries me back to bed and tucks me in like I'm something precious.

"I'll be right back," he says, brushing a kiss across my forehead.

I don't even have time to miss him before he's back, a bowl of soup in his hands and that same gentle look in his eyes. He sits beside me again, helping me sit up against the pillows.

"Here," he says, blowing on the spoon before holding it up to my lips. "Small sips."

I feel stupid, letting someone feed me like I'm a child, but Charles doesn't make it feel stupid. His hand is steady, his touch light, and his patience endless. Every spoonful is warm and soothing, easing the ache in my throat a little at a time.

"You're doing great," he says after every few bites, like it's some huge accomplishment that I'm managing to swallow soup.

When I'm too tired to eat anymore, he sets the bowl aside and carefully tucks me back under the covers, adjusting the blanket so it's perfectly snug around me. He sits with me for a moment longer, running his fingers softly through my damp hair.

"You're safe," he murmurs. "You're gonna feel better soon. I've got you."

And even though my body feels awful and my head is still pounding, I believe him. Because with Charles here — patient, soft, steady Charles— I know I'm going to be okay.

I'm half-dozing when I hear the door creak open again. I manage to crack one eye open just enough to see Alexandra slipping into the room, her arms full — a fresh set of clothes, a fluffy blanket, and what looks like a cup of tea balanced precariously on top.

Charles looks up at her with a small smile, and even through my fever haze, I catch the quiet exchange between them — that look they always share, the one that says "we've got this."

"Hey, baby," Alex says softly, setting everything down on the nightstand. She crosses to my side of the bed and kneels down, her hand cool as she brushes my hair back from my face. "You scared us a little."

I blink at her, throat too raw to speak, but I reach for her hand weakly. She catches it immediately, squeezing back gently.

Charles shifts so Alex can sit beside me, her body curling protectively around mine. She pulls the new blanket over both of us, making sure I'm tucked in right against her chest. I sink into her warmth like it's the only thing tethering me to the planet.

Charles sits at the foot of the bed now, watching, making sure everything is just right. He picks up the tea Alex brought and gently places it in her hands.

"Think you can get her to sip a little?" he asks quietly.

Alex smiles at me, the kind of smile that feels like home, and nods. She tilts the cup carefully, holding it to my lips. The first sip is warm, a little sweet, and it soothes the rawness in my throat immediately.

"There you go," she murmurs. "Just little bits. No rush."

I take a few more sips before resting my head against her shoulder again, completely exhausted but feeling... safer. Better. Not fixed, not yet — but not alone.

Charles moves around the room quietly, picking up the abandoned soup bowl and tidying up, but every few minutes he glances back at me, like he can't quite help himself.

"You're gonna be okay, baby," Alex says into my hair, rocking me just a little like I'm a kid again. "We've got you."

"Always," Charles echoes from the foot of the bed, his voice so sure, so steady.

And somewhere deep inside the fever and the fog, I believe them. I believe every word.

Because if there's anything in the world I trust — it's Charles's steady hands, and Alex's arms around me, and the way they both love me like I'm something fragile and fierce all at once.

I close my eyes, wrapped up in both of them, and finally — finally — let myself rest.

Alexandra's POV

Y/n's breathing evens out against my shoulder, her body finally relaxing fully into mine. I stay completely still, scared to even shift in case I disturb her.

Charles catches my eye from the foot of the bed. He's still holding the empty soup bowl in one hand, the towel slung over his shoulder from earlier. He looks tired — the same kind of tired I feel. The kind that settles in your chest when someone you love is hurting and there's not much you can do but be there.

I brush Y/n's hair back from her forehead again, fingers gentle, and kiss the top of her head. She doesn't stir. I can feel how warm her skin still is — the fever's still hanging on — but at least she's sleeping.

Charles sets the bowl down quietly on the nightstand and moves closer, crouching beside me. His hand finds my knee, squeezing it softly.

"She's okay," he says, barely above a whisper, like he's trying to convince himself too.

I nod, my throat tight. "Yeah. She's okay. She just needs time."

We both look down at her. Y/n looks so small like this. It's rare — usually she's so loud, so stubborn, so alive — but tonight she just looks... fragile. And it breaks my heart a little.

Charles leans his forehead against my arm for a second, letting out a slow breath. "I hate seeing her like this."

"I know," I whisper. I run my fingers through her hair again, slow and rhythmic, just trying to soothe her even in sleep.

We stay like that for a while — the three of us — until the room feels like it's breathing with us, warm and quiet and full of love.

Charles helps me shift her properly into the bed, both of us moving carefully like she's made of glass. She mumbles something under her breath as we lay her down, her fingers weakly clutching at my hoodie, not wanting to let go even in sleep.

"I'm right here, love," I whisper, smoothing her hair back. "Not going anywhere."

Charles pulls the blanket up to her chin, his movements careful, tucking her in the way you would a kid — neat, protective. His eyes are so full of tenderness it almost undoes me. He brushes a thumb across her cheek before finally climbing into bed on the other side of her.

I slip under the covers too, curling up close. Y/n immediately nuzzles against my chest, her face pressing into me, her whole body instinctively seeking comfort. I wrap my arms around her, feeling the weight of her settle into me fully.

Charles lies close on her other side, one of his hands finding hers beneath the blanket. He squeezes it gently, grounding her even in her sleep.

For a long while, we just lie there. The room is dim, the only sound the faint hum of the heater and Y/n's soft, uneven breaths. Every so often, she whimpers, shifting like she's caught in some fever dream, and each time, either Charles or I is there — whispering quiet reassurances, rubbing slow circles into her back or stroking her hair.

At some point, Charles's foot brushes against mine under the covers, a silent touch, and I press back without thinking. No words needed. We're both here. We both have her. We have each other.

I kiss Y/n's hair again, breathing her in — even sick, she still smells like home.

Eventually, I feel Y/n's breathing deepen, her body truly relaxing between us for the first time all night.

I let my eyes drift closed, one hand stroking through her hair, the other curled protectively around her. Charles's arm stretches over both of us now, like he's trying to shield us with just his presence alone.

And finally — for the first time in hours — I let myself rest too.

The morning is quiet, the soft kind of quiet that only happens when it's just the three of us, tucked away from the rest of the world.

The first thing I feel is Y/n's hair tickling under my chin, her head still tucked against me like she's afraid to let go even in sleep. Charles's hand is still loosely laced with hers, his breathing steady and slow.

I don't dare move much. I just lie there, running my fingers softly through her hair, careful not to wake her too soon.

Her face looks less flushed than last night, her brows no longer pinched tight in pain or fear. She's still pale, but she looks... peaceful.

I glance over at Charles. His eyes are open too now, just watching her, his thumb tracing absent-minded little circles on the back of her hand. He catches my eye and gives me a small, tired smile.

"She's cooler," he mouths.

I nod, swallowing the lump of relief in my throat.

We stay like that for a while, just breathing together, soaking in the slow miracle of her getting better.

Eventually, I feel her shift a little, her nose scrunching like it always does when she's about to wake up but doesn't want to. I smile down at her, brushing a knuckle against her cheek.

"Morning, sleepy," I whisper so softly it's almost a secret.

Her eyes flutter open, confused at first — then they land on me, then on Charles, and something in her whole body relaxes like a string snapping loose.

Y/n' POV

I blink a few times, trying to figure out if I'm dreaming.

But no — Alex is real, right there, holding me so close I can feel her heart beating against my ear. And Charles is there too, his fingers wrapped around mine like he never let go.

For a second, I just stay still, soaking it in. I feel weak, my throat dry and scratchy, but there's something warm and safe about the way they're looking at me. Like nothing bad could ever happen as long as we're here, together.

"Hi," I croak out, my voice wrecked.

Alex smiles at me so softly it makes my chest ache. "Hi, baby. How're you feeling?"

I frown, trying to assess it. Everything hurts a little, my head is pounding, but it's better. Way better than last night. I glance between them, feeling a rush of gratitude so fierce it nearly knocks the breath out of me.

"Like I got hit by a bus," I rasp, managing a weak grin.

Charles chuckles — a warm, low sound — and reaches out to brush my hair away from my face. "You look better than you did yesterday."

"Not saying much," I mumble, and Alex laughs, the sound soft and sweet.

"You scared us," she says, her voice dipping low, her fingers tracing patterns on my back. "But you're okay now. We've got you."

"I know," I whisper. I nuzzle closer to her chest, clinging onto the comfort. "Thank you."

Charles squeezes my hand. "Always, Y/n/n."

Alex presses a kiss into my hair, lingering there like she can heal me with just her touch. Maybe she can.

I must've drifted back off for a little while, because the next thing I know, the bed shifts underneath me. I groan, squeezing my eyes shut tighter.

"Nooo," I whine into Alex's hoodie, clinging onto her like a stubborn koala.

She laughs quietly, trying to peel herself away without really trying. "Baby, you need to eat something," she says gently, stroking my hair. "You haven't eaten in almost a day."

"I'm fine," I mumble. "I'll survive. Like a cockroach."

Charles snorts from where he's sitting at the foot of the bed. "Cockroaches eat, you know."

I crack one eye open to glare at him, but it's weak at best. My body feels like it's made of wet sand.

"Come on," Alex coaxes, so soft it makes my heart ache. "Just a little bit. For me?"

I huff dramatically but I already know I've lost. I can never say no to her when she uses that voice.

"Fine," I grumble, rolling onto my back like a petulant child. "But I'm not chewing. One spoonful and I'm done."

Charles stands up, bringing over the little tray they must've set up. There's a bowl of steaming soup — homemade, by the smell of it — and a glass of water with a straw.

"You don't have to chew soup, genius," he teases, setting it down carefully beside Alex.

I stick my tongue out at him, then immediately regret it when my throat scratches painfully. Alex just smiles, dipping the spoon into the broth, blowing on it until it's cool enough, then holding it up to my lips.

"Open," she says softly, like she's feeding a toddler.

I roll my eyes but obey, letting her feed me a spoonful. It's warm and salty and tastes like heaven, even if my stomach protests at the sudden attention.

"Good girl," Alex praises, wiping the corner of my mouth with her thumb. The simple, silly praise makes me blush hotter than the soup.

Charles chuckles low under his breath, pretending he's not looking at me like I'm the most ridiculous, lovable thing he's ever seen.

"Don't laugh at me," I mutter after swallowing another sip.

"I'm not," he says — and he's technically telling the truth. His face is suspiciously neutral, but his eyes are glowing with affection. "I'm proud of you."

"You're so full of it," I grumble, but deep down, it feels nice. It feels safe.

Between the two of them — Alex patiently feeding me and Charles making me laugh just enough to forget how gross I feel — the ache in my chest loosens a little more.

Maybe being sick isn't so bad... when you're this loved.