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#and I needed a moment to compose myself
sandinthepipes · 7 months
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Ok but have you processed the fact that Crowley has been calling aziraphale with a pet name for 6000 years. I don’t think you did, you’re too normal for that to be the case.
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the-kipsabian · 8 months
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HEY ONE QUESTION WHAT THE FUCK (EXTREMELY FUCKING AFFECTIONATE)
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azurtaiarchived · 1 year
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@invictah​  asked  the  moon  &  stars  :  “ it’s after you... ”     the sun reaches for the moon,     fingertips delicately brushing against their cheek,     and a palm soon lies flat against the slope of their jawline.     “ it’s after you that marble would be sculpted and paintings be brought to life. ”     his eyes are set aglow,     soft and faint,     and yet...     honest with how his gaze absorbs every detail,       mesmerized by the stars that dot along the canvas of their skin in a gentle silver glow.     a thumb brushes over their cheekbone,     a certain fondness in the gesture itself.     “ but even those would not capture all of the beauty there is to you. ”     a cheeky smile blooms within a playful mien,     the gold of his irises finally meeting the azure depths within elyon’s.    “ you shine beautifully,     elyon.     how lucky i must be to be this close to you. ”       /       i blow u a kith 💕 hi jem 💕
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         hands  kept  to  themselves  ,  resting  idly  against  their  thighs  ,  however  clawed  digits  fidget  the  slightest  bit  when  the  one  whom  had  been  woven  by  the  sun’s  most  brightest  ribbons’s  cradled  their  face  as  if  it  was  a  long  lost  treasure  found  .  and  perhaps  elyon  was  exactly  that  :  a  treasure  to  be  cherished  by  none  other  than  their  dragon  of  red  and  gold.  how  warm  is  hand  ,  every  touch  feeling  like  embers  sparkling  from  the  brightest  fire  (  kissing  cool  indents  upon  cheeks  )  .  lungs  never  needed  air  to  breathe  then  why  was  it  that  elyon  felt  like  they  were  gasping  for  it  ?  chest  constricting  and  instead  of  air  yellow  flowers  bloomed  ,  petals  unfurling  ,  turning  towards  the  sun  :  soaking  up  every  bit  of  grace  they  could  get  .  here  ,  under  the  dark  canopy  of  silent  woods  ,  the  world  barely  dared  to  make  a  sound  .  here  the  moon  could  finally  look  at  the  sun  ,  reach  for  it  and  dare  hold  it  for  one  night  before  day  would  steal  them  away  again  .     
          tiers  ,  ever  so  soft  &  rose  kissed  ,  curve  up  into  a  pleased  smile  and  it  blossoms  across  visage  .  every  word  uttered  by  their  morning  light  pushing  stars  upon  cheeks  to  glow  that  much  brighter  (  and  elyon  doesn’t  even  care  .  not  this  time  .  not  tonight  )  .  leather  covered  hands  rise  up  so  they  may  rest  upon  a  broad  chest  ,  fingers  feeling  the  thrum  of  a  heart  beat  under  layers  of  clothing  (  thump  ,  thump  ,  thump  !  )  . it’s  beating  for  me  they  think  .  only  for  me  .  ever  only  for  me  .    while  esra’s  focus  is  upon  their  starkissed  skin  ,  pouring  affection  unto  it  they’d  never  experienced  before  ───   elyon  is  watching  him  instead  .  the  brightest  blue  ,  stolen  from  cloudless  skies  &  the  widest  ocean’s  ,  only  wish  to  hold  this  image  before  them  .  unwilling  to  ever  part  from  it  .  it’s  why  hands  travel  upwards  ,  spread  out  across  shoulders  ,  trailing  along  neck  before  they  meet  behind  the  knights  head  (  digits  tangling  within  crimson  locks  :  and  even  in  the  dark  it’s  still  beautiful  )  .  a  crown  made  of  ruby  &  garnet  .  fit  for  a  king  ───   my  crimson  king  ,  born  from  the  golden  dawn  .  they  dare  think  in  the  depths  of  their  mind  .   
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          ❝  you  ....   ❞    they  start  .  voice  soft  but   evident  is  the  mirth  that  has  wrapped  itself  around  it  .   molten  gold  ,  smoldering  in  the  dark  ,  melts  into  the  cold  of  their  own  gaze  ───   it  seeps  into  it  ,   like  hungry  flames  and  wraps  them  up  in  a  blanket  of  fire  . if  this  was  what  burning  felt  like  then  maybe  it  wasn’t  so  bad  .    ❝   you  say  such  things  with  ease  .   as  if  it’s  a  universal  truth  known  to  everyone  .  ❞   but  they’re  pleased  ,  so  very  much  ,   in  the  way  they  draw  closer  (  impossibly  so  )  ;  fingers  digging  gently  into  silken  locks  that  have  quickly  enough  become  their  favorite  .  elyon  refuses  to  avert  gaze  :  always  wanting  to  see  every  little  change  within  esra’s  eyes  .  they’ve  made  home  within  dulcet  honey  hues  and  dawn’s  first  light  .   ❝  though  you  are  correct  !   i  am  beautiful  .   ❞  simper  turns  playful  ,  cheeky  ,  teasing  sparkle  within  pale  blue  hues  ───   up  in  the  sky  the  stars  smile  along  ,  looking  down  fondly  upon  the  two  figures  in  the  dark  ,  offering  their  glow  unprompted   .   
      while  their  reply  is  taken  by  the  midnight  breeze  they  briefly  close  eyes  ,  lashes  fluttering  ,  and  when  they  open  again  it’s  an  ocean  filled  with  the  brightest  gems  .  ❝  .... but  i  shine  like  this  perhaps  only  for  you  .    ❞    head  is  tilted  slightly  ,  comfortable  within  esra’s  hold  ,  midnight  blue  locks  dance  across  cheeks  .  ❝  like  this  ... keep  looking  at  me  like  this  and  i  will  be  the  most  beautiful  i’ve  ever  been  . and  then  ....  write  stories  about  me  ,  have  your  people  make  ballads  about  me  .  immortalize  me .  don’t  i  deserve  that  ?   ❞   it  comes  in  phases  ,  their  soft  laughter  that  is  ,  as  they  are  in  such  high  spirits  .  the  heavy  burden  of  their  goal  for  a  brief  moment  lifted  .  their  reunion  under  the  nightsky  couldn’t  have  come  soon  enough  .
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         ❝  you’re  truly  the  luckiest  man  in  the  whole  universe  ,  esra  solheim  .  for  you  have  managed  to  catch  the  moon  and  touch  the  stars  with  your  bare  hands  .... and  lived  to  tell  the  tale  .   ❞   languidly  are  gloved  hands  removed  from  crimson  locks  so  they  may  gently  take  esra’s  hands  away  from  their  cheeks  ───  instead  they  guide  one  to  rest  upon  their  hip  and  the other  to  intertwine  with  their  own  ,  while  their  free  hand  eventually  settled  upon  a  broad  shoulder  .   ❝  dance  with  me  and  tell  me  again  how  beautiful  i  am   ....  ❞  it  always  felt  more  genuine  when  they’d  hear  it  from  esra  than  from  others  ───   for  only  the  sun  could  witness  the  moon’s  true  beauty  .    only  a  firestorm  could  truly  appreciate  the  destructive  force  of  a  tsunami  .  heat  knows  what  it  is  because  of  the  cold  .  only  esra  could  understand  elyon  . . . .  ☼☽
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chanrizard · 2 years
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thesolotomyhan · 2 years
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Wait hold up I just stared reading your comment reblog and I just - I just - I had to STOP AND YELL IN YOUR INBOX HOW MUCH I ADORE YOU!!!!!!
Like- I need a moment I just -
Would it be weird if I printed out your commentary and taped it to my wall???????????
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Above: Real life footage of Arte after reading your comments/reactions. Talk about medical bills - I guess we BOTH getting one because -
And yes my friend it’s a 4 piece Ramon meal! 4!!!!! Maybe 5 if I do the bonus. I hope you are ready 😁
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!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! AHAHAAAAAA 🥹 i cryyy STOP now i need a moment to relish in this haha AUGH i would be honored to be on your wall <3 and o.O I AM ABOUT TO BE WELL FED because a possible 5 part???? BYE I NEED A THERAPIST FOR THIS
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rainbowinbeigeboots · 2 years
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finished my arc copy of big swiss and phew 🥵🥵🥵 overall it's a 9/10 for me (i didn't care for the ending too much but meh fanfic will fix that when it's officially out). however i did devour this book within like 26 hours which has not happened for me in years so take that for what it is
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urmomsfavelesbian · 2 years
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I WANNA CHOMP
chomp…….chomp is One Of The Words. her teeth look so Sharp here her tongue is so Pink her nails are so Short she is doing so much damage to me rn *bone rattling shudder* im so mad at her
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ohnoidontexist · 8 days
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whimsiloves · 8 months
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Yooooo look who came in the mail today!! 😍
Also
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WTF IS THIS FACE???????? 😭
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bodyans0ul · 23 days
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Kind of thinking about what it would be like to have a free-use rape toy wife. I come home from work, and you're having a dinner party with your friends. I open the door and don't even say a word to you or your friends. You ask me how my day was, and I ignore you. Just rushing over to you while you're preparing tea, yanking at your skirt, pulling your panties to the side, and fucking thrusting into you, grunting as I go in hard and raw, you trying to be all civil and polite, muffling some words about your friends being over, like I give a fuck, trying hard not to moan, you struggle and holding onto the table, making eye contact with some of your friends, mouthing out the words I am sorry, As my cock presses into your womb, my fingers being jammed into your mouth, forcing you to choke and gag, your friends sitting around the dinner table trying to awkwardly make small talk with you, you trying your hardest to respond, all while I pound into your tight little cunt, I pull your head back the last few thrusts, pumping cum so deep into your womb, grunting hard as I do so, and pushing you back over the bench after I'm done. It's all over in 5 minutes, fucked and pumped, and left bent over the table, my cum leaking out of you. It takes you a moment to compose yourself, finish the tea service for your friends, and shyly apologise to them, knowing it was completely out of your control.
I head straight to the shower, clean myself up, come back out the hallway your laughing and giggling sitting around the lounge with the girls my cum still stained on your panties, I have a lot of research work do tonight and I am going to take it all out on you, moving slowly towards you grabbing one your friends by the ankle and throwing her off the couch, my hands around your throat, grabbing you off the seat slamming you into the wall, on your knees, I pull out my cock, I am still rock hard and jam it down your throat, you gag and struggle, jaw locking as I skull fuck the shit out of you, bagging your head against the wall, you're friends locking eyes with you still in shock at what they are seeing, no one says a word.
Just awkward silence as I pump down your throat, no easing, no mercy, just hard thrust until you feel my warm, hot load shooting down your throat. I throw a rag at you after. I don't need to say a word to you, cum dribbling down your cheek all this, and you still need to clean up. I head to my study and get to work, coming back in an hour and half or so, two friends are left some are doing the dishes and helping you clean up you're on your hands and knees scrubbing the floor, slowly crawling all over the place, I just move towards you quickly, lifting up your skirt, some of my dried cum from early still spilled over your thighs, you don't stop scrubbing even when you feel the first thrust, I'm never gentle, just a fucking hole to me, just an object I need to cum, my own personal free use fleshlight, we both know it, Ive never asked, I just take you when I want, you know the floor still needs to be cleaned you don't stop trying to crawl away with my cock still deep in your belly hard thrusts, while I lick your back like an animal, ranting off to one of your friends about a girl you don't like, bullshit girl talk I guess, I don't care I pay no attention as I fucking rape you, it never takes me long I cum and go, leaving you to your duty as my fuck toy slave, getting up zipping my pants back up, watching the cum pool from your cunt, It's been a long day, and I'm tired of heading to bed. You crawl a little further before fixing your skirt; my cum stains are all over you, broken deep down inside.
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goldenhypen · 7 months
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✴︎ ⎯ interrupting them with a kiss
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pairing | enhypen x reader
genre | fluff
wc | 1.2k
warnings | kissing lol + some playful teasing/bickering,, lmk if there’s anything else!
a/n | first work since the hiatus omg hope y’all enjoy i haven’t done one of these in a whileee
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HEESEUNG ♡
this boy is literally in the middle of answering a question YOU just asked but you can’t help but notice how ADORABLE he looks right now
wearing his oversized hoodie that engulfs his entire tall form somehow manages to make him look so tiny before you
and so you can’t just sit there and act like you’re okay
you can’t hold it in you anymore
so you kiss him
“oh…” he says, blinking at you, pleasantly surprised as you pull away. “do that again, please,” he smirks with more of a demanding voice this time
LEE HEESEUNG????
you’re left there at a loss for words at this reaction you didn’t expect to elicit from him
and so noticing you’re not doing anything, he decides to take things into his own hands
literally thanos’ “fine. i’ll do it myself” but make it intimate, sexy and lee heeseung
and you catch yourself melting under the hot touch of your boyfriend as his lips immediately find yours
JAY ♡
after kissing him all of a sudden, he lowk flinches and looks at you wide-eyed before acting like you didn’t just make his heart suddenly rush at 150 miles per hour whilst simultaneously doing hundreds of flips in his chest
he looks at you with a questioning type of look before laughing, attempting to mask his now flustered state before letting out a confused, “what the…”
“sorry, you were talking, then i realized how pretty your lips were looking as you were talking, and then you talked some more, and i—couldn’t hold back :)”
he scoffs playfully while letting his eyes shut half closed, still looking at you with an unamused (actually, very amused) stare, “so are you gonna let me finish what i was saying—”
“or should we make out for a few minutes? :D”
“y/n!”
no but after exposing him to the idea, soon the only thing leaving his lips were yours every time you had to catch your breath— (oop)
JAKE ♡
honestly,,, he’s barely taken aback??? 😭😭
like jake srsly? 😭 way to ruin the fun 🙄
nO BUT YK WHAT HAPPENS NEXT THO???
okay so you were the one messing with him, right? buT SOMEHOW BEFORE YOU KNOW IT HE’S THE ONE HAVING FUN MAKING YOU FLUSTERED DJDNDJDJ
literally turning this entire thing around like it’s some game
and so now he’s the one having you forming into a useless ball of mush as he suddenly takes hold of your face, kissing you back passionately like he thinks you can handle it or something 😭
lucky for you he’s holding you so even if every muscle in your body shuts down, having you weak under his touch, LIKE IT DOESNT FEEL LIKE IT BUT you are safe and secure with him <3
moral of the story: almost always whenever your lips meet his and you pull away, his brain just automatically takes it that he needs your lips back on his again asap and he’ll do whatever it takes to get what he wants
this boy puts a whole lot of value on the kisses he gets to share with you. sorry i don’t make the rules 🤷🏻‍♀️
SUNGHOON ♡
sunghoon is just smiling as he reminisces out loud some memories you two shared from a while back
and if you’re being honest, the moments he brought back to life through his words started to make you fall in love with him all over again
you smile ear to ear just as he is and suddenly you catch yourself staring at his lips,, maybe it was the pretty smile you were just always so attracted to…
*peck*
“hey! what was that for?!” your boyfriend exclaims, very obviously flustered by your sudden move on his lips and djdjsjsj you catch a glimpse of his cheeks growing red before he turns away to hide his cute face with his hands
is that not just the most adorablejejsjdjd
he takes a few deep breaths in to compose himself before turning back around, ready to scold you (ZJDJDJ yes hoon you go !! dhdjdj)
“y/n, you can’t just do that!”—yup, great one, hoon, keep going—“i—was talking! and that was rude to interrupt me while i was talking…yeah! and actually, i should be the one making you flustered! not the other way around!”
smoothhh
“oh, so i made you flustered then?”
“hey!—you—no! i’m just saying…”
you let out a small chuckle, “cute.”
“what did you just say?”
“i said you’re cu—“ *peck*
“park sunghoon!” you laugh, in shock
“now look who’s getting shy.”
I— ???
SUNOO ♡
when you suddenly kiss him in the middle of his long run down of the latest gossip between his peers, a gasp leaves his lips as a smile automatically graces his face
“hey!” he hides his face in his hands and chuckles unbelievably, whining playfully, “don’t do that!”
“what? you don’t like it?” you tease
“if you do that again, i’m gonna refuse to even bother talking to you. you hear me? got it?”
oh the sassy little sunoo threats
“mhm, it’s just ‘cause you wanna kiss me so bad too, huh?”
“oh my, y/n,” the boy literally face palms, sighing, “yeah, let’s continue this conversation another time.”
he’s so done (nah he actually loves playfully bickering with you) he literally begins walking off, so you shout, “so is that a yes to more kisses, or???”
“no!!!”
“are you sure??”
“ugh, fine!”
he loves you 🙄😔
JUNGWON ♡
HED GIVE YOU THE BIGGEST CUTEST PUPPY KITTY(??) EYES
like full on adoration
he doesn’t care that you just stopped and interrupted everything he was saying
he thinks it was just so cute that you kissed him like that
a smile grows on his face as he asks what that was for
and you tell him how he just looked cute and you apologize you couldn’t help yourself
and that was when he had it
and he immediately leaned in and kissed you right back
YANG JUNGWON CALM DOWN A BIT PLS ITS TOO MUCH FOR OUR WEAK YN HEARTS-
NI-KI ♡
GETS SO FLUSTERED RIGHT ON THE SPOT
right as you pull back and watch for his reaction he’s letting out a chuckle and pressing his lips together, turning his entire body to face away from your view
he’s in his own world for a moment, processing what just happened before getting flustered again and trying to calm down and compose himself
and so you try to get his attention again. you poke him a few times, “riki? riki? riki?!”
he turns around, TRYING TO ACT ALL COOL AS THOUGH HE WASNT JUST STRUCK WITH THE BIGGEST SWARM OF BUTTERFLIES IN HIS STOMACH
like riki your face is all red, you can’t hide nothin 🙄
“hm?” he asks in the most composed voice and with the calmest face he could pull off (p.s. he was not very good at acting “calm” at all whatsoever and you just couldn’t let this boy have his moment)
“you’re so red right now,” you point out and cackle
“do you wanna kiss again?”
SJSNDJ I— ???? NISHIMURA RIKI!?&@:’!
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a/n | lol don’t mind if the tenses were all over the place in this one T-T i tried writing in present tense for once,, let’s hope it stayed that way throughout the whole thing djdjd ,, i hope you liked reading this one! first goldenhypen work in how many months?? hope you lovelies enjoyed !! likes and reblogs are very appreciated mwah <3
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pucksandpower · 5 months
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Breaking Point
Charles Leclerc x Ferrari!Reader
Summary: Charles Leclerc finally reaches his breaking point after the disaster that was the United States Grand Prix. Something needs to change … and that’s where you come in
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“Again, again!” Charles’ voice rings out, echoing through the debrief room, “How can we mess this up? I was on pole!”
Fred Vasseur looks down, sighing, but trying to maintain composure. “Charles, it was a miscalculation—”
“A miscalculation?” Charles retorts, eyes blazing, “This has been a trend all season, Fred. It’s not a one-time mistake. It’s systemic.”
Carlos, looking uncomfortable, tries to chime in, “It wasn’t just about strategy, you know the car—”
“Oh, I know the car,” Charles snaps, “And it was built against my driving preference. But it’s not just that. It’s everything. The poor race strategy, the unnecessary swap, and now being disqualified as if my day has not been bad enough!”
Enrico Cardile, the team’s technical director, steps forward, “Disqualification was not anticipated. We followed the regulations to the best—”
“Enough with the excuses!” Charles’ voice cracks with emotion. The weight of the season, the betrayal he feels, finally makes him see red. “Every time there’s an excuse. We’re a team and yet somehow it feels like I’m constantly battling not just our opponents but Ferrari as well.”
A deep silence settles.
The head strategist, Ravin Jain, finally speaks up hesitantly, “We thought the one-stop made sense. The data suggested—”
“Data,” Charles interrupts bitterly, “The same data that led to a decision that every other team on the grid laughed at! Did the data also suggest swapping me with Carlos? Or was I being punished for being able to manage my tires?”
Carlos, despite himself, looks hurt. “I didn’t ask for the swap,” he mutters.
Charles takes a breath, looking at his teammate, “I know. It’s not your fault, hermano. But I need to trust the team’s decisions. And right now, I don’t.”
Sporting Director Diego Ioverno tries to mediate, “It’s been a tough season, Charles. Everyone is understandably stressed. Let’s sit down, review everything together, and find a way forward.”
Charles shakes his head, “That’s what we said last time. And the time before that. And the twenty times before that! Empty promises, meetings, discussions, and then what? Nothing gets done and there is another disaster waiting to happen.”
Fred tries one more time, “We’re as frustrated as you are. We’re a family. We’ll figure this out.”
Charles scoffs, “I can’t keep being let down and used. Not like this.”
The room falls silent once more, a heavy cloud of disappointment and tension hanging in the air.
Carlos reaches out, placing a hand on Charles’ shoulder, “Things will get better.”
Charles meets Carlos’ gaze, nodding slightly. But the fire in his eyes has not dimmed, “I need to believe in this team again. But right now ...” He pauses, “I have a call to make.”
He turns, leaving the room filled with introspective silence. The team is left behind, grappling with their own emotions, knowing that actions will always speak louder than words.
***
Charles steps out into the warm evening air, taking a moment to compose himself before dialing a number he knows by heart but hasn’t touched in months.
“Hey,” Charles’ voice is a low rasp, every ounce of weariness evident.
Then a pause, as he listens to the voice on the other end.
“Yeah, it’s me ... look, I know what I said earlier this season. About handling it myself.” He takes a deep breath, letting the weight of it all settle.
A longer pause, broken by Charles’ intermittent nods and “Uh-huhs.”
“Every race feels like it’s been one disaster after another. And it’s not just the car, it’s everything. I can’t ... I can’t keep doing this to myself.”
He listens closely.
“I told them today, laid it all out. But it’s like talking to a brick wall. They listen, they nod, and then? The same mistakes. Over and over.”
He shifts his weight, the sound of his shoes scraping on the gravel echoing softly.
“I know, I know I told you not to get involved ... but maybe ... maybe that was a mistake.” He sounds defeated, a man at the end of his rope. “I need help. Real help. Maybe it’s time you step in.”
Charles is silent, absorbing whatever the person on the other end is saying.
“No, it’s not about leaving the team,” Charles’ voice is earnest, desperate even. “It’s about respect. Trust. It’s about feeling like I’m not constantly fighting against the tide, not just against other teams but within my own garage.”
A long pause.
“What I mean is, maybe some changes within the team would be good. Fresh perspectives. New faces, perhaps. Somewhere I can trust the decisions, the strategy ...”
He sighs.
“I just want to race, you know? Without all this drama. Without constantly wondering if I’m being set up to fail no matter what I do.”
Another pause as he listens, nodding, lost in the gravity of the decision he’s about to make.
“Thank you. Really. Let’s talk tomorrow? Lay out all our options?”
There’s a moment of quiet, only the sound of his breathing, the distant hum of the circuit, the world slowly dimming around him.
“Thanks. Goodnight, Y/N.”
***
“Emilia,” you call out, and before a moment passes, your ever-efficient personal assistant is by your side.
“Yes, Y/N?” Emilia asks, perfectly poised.
“I need the jet prepared. We’re heading to Mexico City,” you say, voice steady and determined though inside, the turmoil from the phone call with Charles still lingers.
Emilia raises an eyebrow slightly, a silent question in her eyes. “Any particular reason?”
You sigh, looking away for a moment, reflecting on the weight of the legacy you carry. “Scuderia Ferrari needs my direct attention. I trusted them to handle things, but ... it’s clear that has not been happening.”
Her eyes flash with understanding. “Of course. I’ll have the jet ready. When do you wish to depart?”
“Tomorrow morning, early.”
She’s already typing into her tablet. “I’ll book you the Presidential Suite at the Four Seasons. Will you be needing a meeting space there?”
“Absolutely,” you nod. “On Wednesday, before the Grand Prix. Organize for all team personnel to meet in the hotel conference room. And Emilia ... they are not to know the reason for the meeting or that I’m the one calling it.”
Her eyes gleam with a hint of mischief, “Mystery and surprise. I love it. Consider it done.”
A small, wry smile tugs at your lips. “Thank you. And can you make sure Charles knows about my arrival? But ask him to keep it quiet.”
“Of course. Anything else?”
You pause, taking a moment to consider. “Just one more thing. Make sure we have everything we need to review the team’s decisions and strategies for this season. Every little detail.”
Emilia nods. “Absolutely. Everything will be arranged as per your instructions.”
You take a deep breath, “Thanks, Emilia. This … it’s about preserving a legacy, and right now, that legacy is on shaky ground.”
She places a reassuring hand on your shoulder, “If anyone can steer this ship right, it’s you.”
***
The door to the conference room opens with a low creak, and the room immediately falls silent. Everyone turns to see you entering, your presence commanding every ounce of attention.
“Good afternoon,” you begin with ice-cold authority. “Thank you all for meeting on such short notice.”
There are murmurs of acknowledgment but no one dares speak up.
“I’ve reviewed our performance this season,” you continue, pacing the length of the conference room, letting each word sink in. “And to say I’m disappointed would be an understatement.”
Fred shifts uncomfortably in his seat, eyes darting around the room. You lock eyes with him, “Fred, you promised change. But the only change I’ve seen is our team’s steep decline.”
“I understand your frustration,” Fred stammers, “We’ve faced challenges—”
You cut him off sharply, “Challenges? Every team faces challenges. What matters is how you overcome them.”
Several team members look down, uncomfortably shuffling papers and avoiding eye contact.
You turn to the strategists, “Your decisions have cost us dearly, time and time again. Your inability to read a race situation, to adapt, to strategize effectively ... it’s quite frankly appalling.”
One of the strategists, a middle-aged man named Roberto, speaks up defensively, “We did our best with the information we had.”
Your eyes narrow, “Your best? Tell that to Charles, who has been left out in the cold race after race.”
Moving on, you address the engineers and designers, “Our car has issues that should have been rectified at the beginning of the season. Yet here we are, still struggling.”
An aerodynamicist named Lucia, clearly agitated, stands up. “We’ve been working tirelessly, trying to find solutions.”
You level her with a gaze, “Then maybe it’s time we look for people who can find those solutions more efficiently.”
Lucia’s face reddens, “You can’t just—”
“Actually I can,” you interrupt, “And I will.”
Your attention turns to Xavi, Charles’ race engineer, who has been noticeably silent. “Xavi, your dynamic with Charles has not been the slightest bit helpful. His feedback, his needs ... they’ve fallen on deaf ears.”
Xavi, trying to defend himself, says, “It’s a two-way street. Charles can be difficult.”
You shake your head, “Charles is a world-class driver. It’s your job to bridge any gaps, not widen them. I checked and it turns out that constantly repeating we are checking like a broken record is not beneficial for race performance!”
Taking a deep breath, you make your announcement, “Effective immediately, Roberto, Lucia, and several other strategists, engineers, and aerodynamicists that a personal audit revealed as detrimental to team performance relieved of their duties. Xavi, you too are let go.”
There are gasps around the room, the weight of your words sinking in. Roberto stands, fuming in anger, “You can’t just dismantle this team!”
You lock eyes with him, “I’m not dismantling. I’m rebuilding. And if that means letting go of every one of you who can’t uphold the standards of Scuderia Ferrari then so be it.”
Fred finally speaks up, “And what about me?”
You lean in, “Consider your position on very thin ice. I expect results. And fast.”
You straighten up, the room thick with tension, “Scuderia Ferrari is not just a team, it’s a legacy. My great-grandfather would be rolling in his grave to see what has been done to his beloved team. I will not stand by and watch it crumble.”
With a final, piercing gaze around the room, you pivot on your heel and exit with a flick of your hair.
***
You lean against the cool wall, taking a moment to gather yourself after the emotional intensity of the meeting. The hallway is quiet save for the distant hum of voices but soon familiar footsteps make their way around the corner.
“Charles,” you call out softly as spot the driver.
His green eyes, clouded with a mix of emotions, meet yours. “Y/N.”
“Are you okay?”
He hesitates, “I wasn’t expecting all of that.”
You nod, “It was long overdue. I should have intervened much sooner.”
Charles runs a hand through his hair, clearly trying to process everything. “It’s ... a lot. I didn’t think you would actually step in like this.”
You sigh, “I hoped I wouldn’t have to. But my bisnonno once said that aerodynamics are for people who can’t build engines, and right now, it sure seems like Ferrari can’t do either.”
Charles chuckles dryly, “You have a point. It’s been ... frustrating.”
You gently touch his arm, trying to reassure him, “Enzo also believed that dreams become bigger, much bigger, to build a car that doesn’t slow in the curves, that flies without leaving the ground. I want that dream for you. For us.”
He looks at you, “It’s all I’ve ever wanted. A car that allows me to race to my full potential.”
You nod, thinking of the iconic red car and its tremendous legacy, “I know. And we’ll get there. Remember, racing cars are neither beautiful nor ugly. They become beautiful when they win.”
A smile tugs at Charles’ lips, “I haven’t won in too long. I almost forget what it feels like.”
You step closer, “That is going to change. I’m here for the long haul. To rebuild, restructure, and reclaim the Ferrari legacy. Glory will be dressed in red once more.”
He nods and swallows thickly. “Thank you, Y/N. It means more than you know.”
You smile softly, “We’re a team. And I promise to do whatever it takes to see us on top again.”
***
Early that Friday at Autódromo Hermanos Rodríguez, you gather the team in the garage.
“Good morning, everyone,” you begin. “I know it has been a whirlwind these past few days but I want to set the tone for this weekend.”
Fred, still adjusting to the new dynamic, nods silently from the back.
“We haven’t had the time to implement any physical changes to the car,” you continue, “But they are coming. For now, the difference will be about being smart … being strategic.”
Charles listens intently, his gaze occasionally drifting to the newcomers in front of him.
Speaking of the new additions, you gesture to the two people standing on either side of you, “I’ve brought on Marit Nilsen as our Principal Strategy Engineer and Claudio Segreti as Charles’ new race engineer. Not only are they exceptional engineers but also global chess masters.”
There are murmurs of surprise and interest among the crew. The world of Formula 1 and professional chess has rarely, if ever, intersected.
Marit, a tall woman with striking blonde hair, steps forward, “Chess is all about strategy, foreseeing the opponent’s moves and countering them. That’s what we’re here to do but on the track.”
Claudio, with his dark hair and deep-set eyes, adds, “Every move and decision we make will be precise. We’ll anticipate, adapt, and overcome.”
Carlos clears his throat, “So what’s the plan for free practice?”
You smile, “Today, we observe. We learn. We see where the car stands, where our strengths and weaknesses lie.”
As free practice commences, there’s a different energy in the garage. Marit, with her sharp analytical mind, quickly picks up on patterns, working closely with Claudio and Carlos’ engineer to ensure both drivers get feedback they need.
There’s a visible shift throughout the weekend. The team, rejuvenated by fresh perspectives, operates with a renewed vigor. And while the car may not have upgrades yet, new strategy quickly begins to make a difference like anticipated.
Qualifying sees Charles securing P3, an unexpected but welcome result. The garage is full of cautious hope but Marit and Claudio remain focused, already planning for the race to come.
Race day dawns and the tension is thick. You pull Charles aside, “Remember, things have changed. Believe in the strategy and the moves we make.”
He nods, “I trust them. And I trust you.”
As the lights go out and the cars roar to life, Charles delivers a performance that’s both calculated and aggressive. Every pit stop and every overtake is orchestrated like a chess match.
The race sees Charles finishing in P2 and Carlos in P4, a significant improvement from recent races.
The garage is a mix of tentative elation and relief.
Marit thoroughly reviews the race data, “This is just the beginning. Once the car upgrades are in place, the board will be ours.”
The sun sets on the Mexico City Grand Prix, but for Scuderia Ferrari, a new dawn is on the horizon.
***
“Fabiano Turati,” you muse, looking at the impressive portfolio before you. “Aerospace engineer, a key player in the development of hypercars for Agnellotti Motors, a professor at Politecnico di Milano. But never in F1?”
Fabiano, with salt and pepper hair and an air of quiet confidence, smiles slightly. “It’s not for lack of offers. I have just always believed in pushing boundaries outside of traditional paths.”
You lean back, intrigued, “So why Ferrari now?”
His eyes scan around the garage, “A challenge. An opportunity. A legacy to uphold. And, to put it simply, I think I can make a difference.”
You nod, appreciative of his candor. “We have three races left this season: Brazil, Las Vegas, and Abu Dhabi. Realistically, how much can we improve?”
You can practically see the gears in his brain turning, “In terms of complete redesign? Not much. But in terms of optimization and efficiency? Quite a bit.”
By the Brazilian Grand Prix, Fabiano’s influence is evident. While not a complete transformation, the SF-23 sports streamlined wings and a refined rear diffuser, maximizing what the current design allows.
“Initial feedback is good,” Charles reports after the practice session. “There’s a notable difference in the corners.”
Carlos chimes in, “The balance feels better.”
The improvements are evident, with both Ferraris finishing just off the podium. But Las Vegas poses a new challenge: a circuit unfamiliar to all teams and drivers.
“This is anyone’s game,” Marit says, examining the track layout.
Fabiano nods, “This weekend will be all about adaptation.”
The Las Vegas Grand Prix is an exhilarating rollercoaster. Charles fights for a podium finish, narrowly missing out but showcasing the SF-23’s newfound prowess, while Carlos secures a solid sixth.
As the season finale in Abu Dhabi looms, anticipation runs high. The Yas Marina Circuit will end the year with a test of Ferrari’s mettle.
Post-race, with both Ferraris finishing on the podium after avoiding a pile up that took out multiple opponents, there’s a sense of satisfaction but also of hunger.
“We’ve made progress,” Fabiano says as the garage winds down. “But next season, we’ll aim for a car that is not just evolved but fully revolutionized.”
You smile, “With you on board, I truly believe we can. The future is bright for Scuderia Ferrari.”
***
“Look at her,” Fabiano muses, admiration clear as the blueprint for the SF-24 is spread out before you both in your Maranello office.
“She’s a beauty,” you agree, tracing your fingers over the schematics. “If she performs half as well as she looks ...”
“She will,” Fabiano leaves no room for doubt. “We’ve streamlined the aerodynamics, enhanced the power unit, and made significant weight reductions.”
Carlos walks in with a grin on his face, “Is this the beast we’re taming next season?”
“That’s the plan.”
Charles catches your eye from where he lingers by the door. “It’s a fresh start,” he murmurs, approaching the table almost reverently. “I feel it.”
Over the following weeks, you rarely leave the factory other than to sleep and shower. You immerse yourself with the team, observing wind tunnel tests, joining strategy sessions, and even trying your hand with pit stop drills.
One evening, after a particularly long meeting, Charles finds you in the lounge, sipping an espresso. “Mind if I join you?”
You gesture to the seat across, “Of course not.”
He sits and just looks at you until you get the urge to fidget. “I’ve been thinking,” Charles begins, “About the changes, the car, and ... us.”
You raise an eyebrow, “Us?”
Charles smiles slightly, “You and I. We’ve spent so much time together these past weeks. I’ve gotten to know you, not just as Y/N Ferrari but as ... Y/N.”
You flush and not just from the hot coffee, “I feel the same. It’s been ... refreshing. Getting to know the man behind the helmet.”
He leans forward, elbows on the table, “There’s this great little place just outside Maranello. Quiet, hidden. I was thinking, maybe, dinner?”
Your heart skips a beat but you maintain your composure, “I’d really like that.”
The winter in Maranello unfolds, and as the SF-24 takes shape, so does the bond between you and Charles.
Between brainstorming sessions and late-night discussions about optimal setups, there are stolen moments: shared glances, lingering touches, and dinners that stretch long into the night talking about anything and everything.
Carlos teases, “Seems like the new car isn’t the only thing igniting sparks.”
You roll your eyes but there’s no hiding the smile tugging at your lips. You don’t try to deny it. Why bother when you hope it might be true one day?
***
r/formula1
Posted by RaceRundown · 6 hours ago
First look at the SF-24! Thoughts?
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RedFever · 6 hours ago
This could be the machine that keeps Ferrari at the top. Just look at those lines!
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PitStopPundit · 5 hours ago
Getting major 2004 vibes from this. Could be a dominant year for the Scuderia!
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***
You step into the air-conditioned motorhome, grateful for an escape from the Bahraini heat. Charles and Carlos, race suits unzipped around their waists, are animatedly discussing their first day of preseason testing with the SF-24.
“Last year, we didn’t have to sandbag because the car was, well … genuinely that slow,” Charles laughs. “But this time around ...”
Carlos grins, finishing his sentence. “This time, we have an ace up our sleeves.”
You nod, “Just remember, it’s only testing. We still have to see where we truly stand.”
The race weekend finally kicks off and the paddock is full of speculation. After a deliberately unimpressive showing during testing, no one expects Ferrari to be a front-runner.
Yet, when the lights go out, the SF-24 does not just impress …. it dominates. Charles takes P1 with Carlos not far behind in P3. And the world takes notice.
The next few races see a rejuvenated Ferrari. In Saudi Arabia, Charles and Carlos deliver a nail-biting duel with Red Bull, securing a double podium. Australia is a tougher battle, with Mercedes coming to form, but Charles clinches a respectable P4.
The Asian leg of the season has its highs and lows. In Japan, despite a torrential downpour, Charles masterfully handles the wet track to clinch the top step. On the podium, he points up at the sky and then shapes his fingers — first into a one and then a seven — a silent tribute to his late godfather and mentor.
However, China proves challenging and sees the SF-24 struggling unusually with tire degradation. But as Miami approaches, the team regroups and Charles takes a commanding win under the Florida sun.
Then comes Imola, the first of Ferrari’s home races.
As the sun shines brightly over the circuit named after your great-grandfather and grand uncle, you find yourself walking the track alongside Charles. The weight of racing on home soil evident in his eyes.
“Everything okay?” You check, sensing his nervous energy.
He looks at you and taking a deep breath. “Racing in front of the Tifosi at home always feel different. I want to make them proud.”
“No matter what happens today, they will be proud of you. The whole team will be proud of you. We’ve come so far.”
He smiles, visibly lighter. “Then let’s give them a race to remember.”
And it is nothing short of spectacular. Charles starts P2, but with determination and brilliant strategy, he overtakes Max in the final lap and secures a victory for Ferrari on home soil.
The roar of the crowd, the sea of red flags, the tears in Charles’ eyes as he stands atop the podium — you make a promise to never forget this moment.
As the sun sets on Imola, the Scuderia Ferrari team comes together, basking in their victory.
As Charles, champagne-soaked and beaming, pulls you in for a damp hug, it is clearer than ever that this season is only the beginning of a beautiful journey ahead.
***
“Norris is approaching on a flying lap. Make sure not to impede,” Claudio’s voice comes through crisp and clear over the radio during the dying moments of Q3 for the Monaco Grand Prix.
You can practically feel Charles’ concentration from where you’re seated on the Ferrari pit wall. The narrow streets of Monaco leave no room for error … Charles knows this better than most.
“Copy,” Charles responds, adjusting his position on the track just enough to give Lando the space he needs to pass while keeping his own momentum.
The clock is ticking and Charles needs a perfect lap if he wants to clinch pole position.
“Tires are feeling good. Pushing now,” Charles says, rounding the first corner with precision. The SF-24 dances around the iconic circuit, the roar of its engine echoing through the streets.
From Casino Square to the hairpin and through the tunnel, Charles’ driving is flawless. Every apex hit and every corner nailed.
“Final sector, Charles. Make it count,” Claudio encourages.
And he does. Crossing the line and jumping to the top of the timing board.
The garage cheers but there’s no time to waste. Tomorrow’s race is what truly matters.
***
Race day in Monaco is always special, but today, with Charles starting from pole, there’s an electric tension in the air.
“Lights out in ten,” Marit announces over the intercom.
Charles, already in the zone, simply nods.
And then he’s lined up on the front row.
The lights illuminate one by one. Then, in a heartbeat, they go out.
The race is on.
Charles gets a strong start, holding off challengers through the initial turns. The streets of Monaco are notoriously difficult for overtaking, so track position is everything.
“Maintain the pace. Tire management is key,” Claudio advises as the laps progress.
As the race unfolds, strategy becomes crucial.
“Plan to box in two laps,” Marit instructs through Claudio. With with Verstappen close on his tail, everything must be executed perfectly.
The pit stop is lightning-fast, the crew working in synchrony. Charles emerges just ahead of Max, who had followed him into the pits.
Throughout the race, Charles’ skill shines. He manages his tires, navigates the backmarkers, and keeps a razor-sharp focus.
The final laps approach. The team, the spectators, the entire Principality holds its breath.
The chequered flag waves and Charles crosses the finish line to takes his first home win. The elation, the pride, the sheer emotion of the moment is overwhelming.
“Monaco, Charles! You’ve won Monaco!”
Tears in his eyes, Charles responds, voice choked, “We did it! This is for Monaco. This is for Ferrari. Grazie mille. Merci beaucoup.”
The team gathers beneath the podium, celebrating their victory and the hometown here. Charles quickly sprays the two drivers beside him before aiming the bottle at the sea of red cheering in front of him and soaking his team in champagne.
He thinks back to how this weekend ended last season and let’s his elation wash away the years of dejected he faced before.
Things are different now.
***
“I’ve never seen Monaco come alive like this after a win,” you shout over the pulsating music in one of the city’s many upscale clubs.
Charles grins, leaning in closer so you can hear him. “It’s the magic of a home race victory!”
As the night turns to early morning, alcohol flows freer and the laughter grows louder.
The Ferrari team loves any reason to celebrate and they’re certainly making the most of the location.
Charles pulls you to a quieter corner of the VIP section. “Have you ever danced with a Monaco Grand Prix winner?”
You roll your eyes at the attempt at flirting but laugh as you accept his outstretched hand. “There’s a first time for everything.”
The two of you dance, losing track of time.
The world blurs around you. All that matters is the magnetic pull between you two which has been simmering for so long that it is threatening to overflow.
Charles pulls you closer, his lips brushing your ear. “There’s something I’ve been wanting to tell you.”
You relish in the warmth of his breath against your skin. “What’s that?”
“I’m drawn to you,” he admits, eyes searching yours. “Not just because of tonight but ... there’s something between us. I feel it. And I think you do too.”
You swallow hard. “I do.”
He hesitates before wrapping an arm around your waist, “Come with me.”
Without a word, you both exit the club, making your way to his apartment. The air between you is thick with anticipation but also vulnerability … openness.
Once inside, he gently pushes you against the wall, lips crashing onto yours. It’s passionate and intense, like a dam that has been waiting to break.
Charles pulls away slightly, “Are you sure about this?”
“I’ve never been more sure of anything in my life,” you whisper, eyes locked with his. “But ... Charles, not just for tonight. I don’t want this to be just a result of a victory high or the Monaco night air.”
He cups your face, thumb brushing your cheek. “I don’t want that either. This isn’t about the race or the party. It’s about us. I think it’s been about us for a while now.”
“Then why didn’t you say something sooner?”
He chuckles softly. “You think it’s easy, being around you every day, wanting to be close but maintaining a distance for the sake of professionalism? To spend every evening when we’re in Maranello sitting across from you at dinner and wishing that I could call it a date? But tonight,” he pauses, eyes searching yours, “Tonight felt different.”
You waste no time to draw him closer. “No more waiting then.”
***
Canada’s Circuit Gilles Villeneuve echoes with the roar of engines and the cheers of fans. Charles dominates the track, mastering the chicanes and the notorious Wall of Champions.
But the race isn’t straightforward. Mid-race, strategy suddenly changes when an unexpected rain shower soaks the track. However, the new strategy team you’ve brought in makes all the right calls and Charles takes the chequered flag.
In the Spanish sun, it’s a different story. The high-speed corners expose a slight flaw in the SF-24 which leaves Charles fighting valiantly but finishing third.
Despite the setback, you see determination in his eyes. “We’ll get them in Austria,” he promises.
True to his word, at the Red Bull Ring, he dominates. The SF-24 suits the straights and fast corners. Charles takes pole and leads every lap, building a gap that the competition can’t close. The victory feels even sweeter given the circuit’s name.
Silverstone proves challenging. There’s fierce competition, and while Charles doesn’t win, he’s involved in one of the most thrilling wheel-to-wheel battles of the season with Max Verstappen. They exchange positions multiple times, showing pure racing talent. In the end, Charles finishes a proud second after a photo finish.
The Hungarian Grand Prix tests the team. Tire strategy becomes paramount. The SF-24 shows vulnerabilities in the surprisingly sweltering conditions. Still, Charles’ impeccable driving and some cunning strategy calls earn him a place on the podium.
At the Circuit de Spa-Francorchamps, Charles shines brilliantly. He conquers Eau Rouge and Raidillon like few can, making it seem effortless. The SF-24 feels perfectly balanced and he takes another win, smiling at the Ferrari flags waving high in the crowd as the Monegasque and Italian anthems play.
Through it all, you see Charles grow not just as a driver but as a leader and beacon of hope for the team and global fanbase. He is not just driving for himself or for Ferrari, he drives for everyone who believes in him.
***
The warm Italian sun pours golden light onto the expansive villa overlooking Lake Como. The water below sparkles, mirroring the sky. For a brief moment, the hectic world of Formula 1 feels miles away.
You’re lounging under an oversized umbrella, Aperol Spritz in hand, while Charles emerges from the pool, beads of water cascading down his toned physique.
“That swim was perfect,” Charles grins as he flops down beside you.
“You were in there for ages! Trying to turn into a fish?”
He shakes his head like a wet puppy, making you squeal as you try to escape the splashes. “Just preparing for our yacht trip. Besides, I have to burn off all those pasta dinners we’ve been having or else I won’t fit in the car by the end of the month.”
“The troubles of a professional athlete,” you laugh, “I’ve been indulging and I’m not even sorry.”
That evening, the two of you share a quiet moment on the terrace. Soft jazz floats from inside and cicadas buzz rhythmically.
“Remember our first race together?” Charles starts. “It feels like a lifetime ago.”
“I never imagined we’d be here. But I am so glad that we are.”
He meets your gaze, his eyes reflecting the same heat you feel. “Me too. These moments, away from the track with you ... they’re special.”
The following week, you find yourselves on a luxurious yacht off the coast of Sardinia. Charles’ family and both of your friends are aboard. The sun decks echo with laughter, music, and the soft lapping of waves. There is never a quiet moment and you relish in the sounds of happiness.
As you stand by the railing, watching Charles and Joris race each other on jet-skis, Arthur slides up beside you. “So, how’s life with my big brother?”
You laugh, “It’s an adventure every day. But honestly, I wouldn’t change a thing. It’s wonderful. He’s wonderful.”
Arthur nods, “I’ve never seen him this happy, you know?”
You smile warmly, your gaze drifting to where Charles has somehow fallen into the water and is now splashing his friend. “He brings out the best in me, just as I hope I do for him.”
***
The gentle lapping of the Mediterranean waves seems like a distant memory as you find yourself in Zandvoort.
“Quite the change of scenery, isn’t it?” Charles chuckles, standing beside you as the sea breeze of the Dutch coast tousles his hair.
You laugh, “A bit but I’ve missed it. Nothing beats the excitement of a race weekend.”
And what a weekend it was. Charles, against all odds, comes out on top at Max Verstappen’s home race. The Dutch crowd offer begrudging respect as Charles takes the top step.
And then, Monza.
Monza is different. There’s an electricity in the air that cannot be replicated anywhere else. It’s the home race of Ferrari … the cathedral of speed.
“Do you know,” you tell Charles as you both walk through the paddock, “I used to come here with my grandfather as a child. This track ... it’s steeped in history. I’ve always loved it.”
“Winning here was like nothing else I have ever experience,” he reflects. “Let’s do it again. We’ll write our own chapter in history this weekend.”
Qualifying is a nail-biter. Charles pushes the SF-24 to its limits, dancing on the edge of control.
“How are we looking?” Charles checks in.
“You’re on provisional pole,” Claudio responds over the radio. “But push on the last sector. Max is close and getting closer.”
And push he does. Charles clinches pole with a margin that leaves no doubts about the capabilities of both the driver and the car.
Race day, the atmosphere is fever-pitched. The Tifosi, in their sea of red, wave their flags and banners, chanting Charles’ name like a prayer. As the lights go out, the battle rages. The strategy is aggressive, a one-stop that requires Charles to defend position in the latter stages of the race.
“Lap 45. Push now, we need widen this gap,” Claudio instructs.
The tires scream in protest as Charles further carves out a lead. But as the laps tick down, Verstappen and Piastri close in.
“Drive smart and hold them off. Four laps to go. You’ve got this,” Claudio urges him on.
Going wheel-to-wheel with Max through the Ascari chicane, Charles pulls ahead. The Tifosi roar, their energy and sheer will pushing him on.
“Last lap. Bring it home!”
And he does.
As Charles crosses the finish line, the crowd erupts. The track is soon packed with red as fans flood the track, surrounding the podium.
From the sea of faces, one voice stands out — yours, “You did it, Charles. Monza is yours.”
He lifts the trophy high, a tear in his eye, “We did it. This is for Ferrari … for the Tifosi … for us.”
***
The streets of Baku and the lights of Singapore both witness the magic that Charles and the SF-24 weave together. Two more wins, two more steps closer to the championship.
And then you find yourselves in Texas.
“Do you remember this time last year?” Charles asks.
“How could I forget? It was the phone call that changed everything.”
Charles laughs but there’s a weight to it, “For both of us. It was a disaster ... pole to sixth and then the disqualification. All because of...” He doesn’t finish the sentence, the mismanagement of the team a heavy shadow neither of you can forget.
“You’ve grown since then,” you point out gently, “The team has grown. Look at where we are now.”
He nods, taking a deep breath, “One year. So much has changed. From one of the worst days in my racing career to ... this.” Charles gestures around, to the revamped team, the transformed car, the very atmosphere of competence that permeates every corner of the Ferrari garage.
“I can’t believe we’re here,” he whispers, “The championship is within our grasp. Right back where it all went wrong.”
You take a moment to pull out your laptop and open a data sheet, “Here’s the breakdown. If Max gets P2 in both the sprint and the race, you need P1 in both. That’s how we seal the championship this weekend.”
Charles’ eyes scan the spreadsheet, “That’s ... a tall order.”
“But not impossible. Not for you and not for this team,” you assure him.
He chuckles again but it’s brighter now, “With you in my corner? I know anything is possible.”
***
The energy is electric when qualifying day arrives in Austin. You find Charles in his driver’s room, eyes closed in focus as he visualizes the track.
“You ready for this?”
His eyes pop open, determination burning in them. “Ready. Let’s show them what we can do.”
Qualifying unfolds in a blur of fast laps and bated breath. Charles pushes the limits, wrestling the SF-24 around the bumpy circuit.
“Time for one more lap. Give it your all here,” Claudio radioes through.
Jaw set, Charles squeezes all he can from the SF-24. Silence falls as he crosses the line … broken by cheers as his new lap time is set.
Pole position for the second season in a row.
Charles sheds his helmet and rips off his balaclava. “Yes! That’s how we start a weekend!”
The sprint shootout and race similarly see Charles launch cleanly from P1, building a gap early.
“Verstappen is matching your pace, don’t let him get within DRS range,” Claudio advises.
“Copy,” Charles responds, focused.
A late charge from Max raises tensions but Charles keeps him at bay, taking the chequered flag and the eight points.
“That’s the way to do it!” You shout as Charles enters the garage.
“Grand Slam in the sprint, now time for the main event,” he grins.
You rally the team Sunday morning. “Remember, the start is crucial. The car that lines up in P2 has led by the end of lap 1 for five years in a row. We need full focus.”
It seems like barely any time has passed before Charles takes his spot on the grid. Lights out, tires screeching, he holds the lead through the first lap madness.
“Nicely done,” Claudio praises. “Manage those tires now.”
The pit stop strategy is executed flawlessly. Charles takes his second stop, emerging ahead of a charging Verstappen.
“Ten laps remaining,” Claudio counts down.
Charles responds with measured confidence, “Let’s bring it home.”
In the closing laps, he is poetry in motion, hitting each apex and maximizing every straight. Max closes in but Charles is perfect to the millimeter.
“Charles Leclerc,” Claudio’s voice cracks with emotion, “you are the World Champion!”
Eyes wet, Charles radios in, “Yes! Yes! Yes! We did it! Thank you guys! This is unbelievable! Grazie, grazie mille, grazie a tutti! It’s been an incredible season with all of you. This is for the team, for Ferrari, for all the fans, and for everyone who has supported me. We brought it back to Maranello! I’m speechless ... grazie, thank you!”
In the garage, celebrations in full swing, you lean in with a laugh, “Don’t worry, I checked with the FIA — the plank is up to regulation this time.”
Grinning, Charles pulls you into a passionate kiss as the team hoots and hollers around you.
The World Champion smiles so bright he makes the Texan sun look dull in comparison.
You would do anything to make sure he feels like this every season. You will do anything to make sure he feels like this every season.
***
The winter sun casts a warm glow on Maranello as you walk beside Charles into the Ferrari factory. The off-season buzz of activity fills the air as the team prepares for next year’s challenges.
Charles looks at the sleek lines of the new SF-25 with anticipation. “She’s beautiful. I can’t wait to see what she can do.”
“This one’s special. She’ll be fighting for the championship again.”
“Yeah?”
“You heard me right,” you say with a smile. “I made you a promise. Last season was just the beginning.”
As Charles turns for a briefing, you spot Fred across the room. Your relationship has evolved and he now respects the authority you wield for the team’s benefit.
Approaching, you extend a hand. “I wanted to say, you’ve led the team well this past season.”
He grasps it firmly. “We share this success. Thank you for being the catalyst we needed”
You know there will still be challenges ahead. But Ferrari has been reinvigorated. Its racing spirit has been reignited.
That evening, Charles joins you on the terrace of the home you both share when in Maranello and wraps you both in a warm blanket to fight the chill. “Can you believe what a year it’s been?”
You shake your head. “It’s been a dream.”
He pulls you close. “The dream is just beginning and it’s a dream I hope we never wake up from.”
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xxsabitoxx · 6 months
Text
Confession | Kinktober
Priest Geto Suguru x AFAB Reader
Warnings: religion, sacrilege, fucking a priest, blow jobs, finger fucking, explicit language, squirting, pet names, mild gaslighting
A/N: Day three is here! This one may be offensive to anyone who is religious so please proceed with caution.
WORD COUNT: 3.6K
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“Tell me, what have you come here for?” You squirmed a bit against the uncomfortable wooden chair. The box itself was pretty dim, only a small, uncovered lightbulb was illuminating the musty space. Through a mesh window on your left, the man spoke with a gentle tone. “I’ve come to confess my sins to you, father.” You couldn’t calm your racing heart, hands twisting tightly together as you mentally prepare yourself to receive his blessings. “Is that so? Please, my dear, tell me the things that haunt you.” Again, his tone was enough to make you shudder. Although it was gentle, it sparked something warm deep within your gut. 
“You see, father, I’ve been a terribly naughty girl.” You swallowed, eyes shutting slowly as you tried to focus on your own words. “Go on.” This time it was a little less gentle, a little more gruff. It made warmth flood your cheeks, your eyes blinking open in surprise. You knew what the priest looked like, having attended some of his masses before. You knew he was a devastatingly attractive man, one around your age, and one unfortunately sworn to celibacy. That, however, didn’t make you want him any less. “Father Suguru, I’ve done things I shouldn’t have… to myself.” You spoke in a low tone, listening to him hum softly before asking “Like what? What have you done to yourself?” he took the bait, your heart hammering in your chest. 
“I've touched myself, for my own pleasure.” You held your breath, vaguely certain that Father Suguru did too. After a moment of your confession hanging in the air, he spoke up. “Oh? How many times have you committed this sin?” his tone wasn’t as gentle now, rather it held a level of strain to it. You could hear him shifting in his seat on the other side of the small confessional wall. “Many times, father. I’ve lost count… which is why I’ve come to you. I want to be cleansed of my filthy acts, only your generous mercy can free my tainted soul.” You stroked his ego with each word, a devious grin plastering to your lips as you heard him clear his throat. 
“Sweet girl, by his grace I can cleanse you. But for it to truly work, I’m going to need you to be a little more specific. Tell me how you committed this act, recall one of the moments for me.” you could have choked on the little saliva that was in your mouth, heat pooling deep down as you recalled the last time you masturbated. “Oh well, last night I…” You stopped when you heard him inhale sharply, your teeth sinking into the side of your cheek before you asked “Father Suguru, are you alright?” You tried to sound innocent, praying your smirk wasn’t evident in your tone. “I-I’m alright, I was just taken by surprise. I didn’t think you’d be so bold as to touch yourself the night before coming to see me. But by all means…” his tone was mildly condescending “... go on.” 
Your thighs pressed together, alleviating the mild ache just a bit. You hadn’t even gotten into the details with him, yet you could feel your own arousal dampening your underwear. “Well, you see, I was laying in my bed all alone. I got bored, my mind wandered and I started to think about such sinful things, Father. They got the better of me and I found myself kicking off the sheets and using my hands to toy with my breasts.” You swallowed, one hand coming up to hold your breast as you spoke, as if needing a physical reminder for all the things you had done. “A-and that wasn’t enough. I felt so achy down there that I couldn’t help taking my panties off and spreading my legs…” You stopped again, letting it hang in the air as you tried to compose yourself. 
Beyond the confessional wall, Father Suguru was gritting his teeth, trying desperately to even his breathing as his cock started to strain against his pants. He wasn’t supposed to know who was sitting beside him, but your voice was recognizable. What a sinful girl you were, always attending his masses in such short sundresses. Your smile was addicting, just like the way your hips swayed as you walked up to him to chat after the mass was done. The thoughts you made him think, the things you made him feel… you must have been a temptation sent by the devil. But god dammit, it turns out he was a weak, weak man. He couldn’t resist the temptation of you for much longer he feared. Especially now. “And then what did you do?” he breathed out, quieter. 
“Father, is this really necessary?” you feigned innocence again, all the while you were slowly parting your legs. “Y-yes, go on. For your sins to be properly forgiven, you must tell me in detail.” You could hear his voice straining again, threatening to crack if you asked him something else. “Alright then…” you sighed, legs spreading enough for your hand to slip down and press on your aching cunt. You nearly whimpered, swallowing the noise by clearing your throat. “I used my hand to reach down there and play with myself.” You admitted with warm cheeks, the heat radiating from where your fingers were pressing was enough to make you squirm, the old wooden chair creaking as your hips  swivelled. Father Suguru was losing the battle, hand shakily holding his fully erect length and squeezing it roughly in hopes of helping the ache. 
“And?” he said again, as if working on autopilot. “I played with my pussy until I climaxed.” you stated boldly, using two fingers to press directly over your aching clit. You heard it loud and clear now, a deep rumbling groan from the priest beside you. “You know, such a sinful act needs more of a demonstration.” he spoke with a surprisingly level tone, letting go of his aching bulge to stand. You, on the other hand, had frozen in your seat. “A-a demonstration? Father Suguru, I just bore my soul to you by explaining verbally.” But you heard him click his tongue, “Nonsense girl, you’ve yet to bare your soul to me in any capacity.” You pushed your dress down, hand resting on your lap instead of your cunt as you straightened, Through the mesh window, you could see he was standing. “An intervention for a tainted soul like yours needs to happen face to face.” 
You couldn’t help but gasp, watching through the window as he pushed the door to the confessional open and stepped out. A moment later you were standing, shamelessly pushing the door open to stand in front of the clearly worked up priest. “Father Suguru…” you started innocently yet again, as if you weren’t the direct cause of his raging erection. His jaw was clenched tight, his hair out of its uniform bun and instead styled in a half up half down look. It only made you want him more, especially with the way his tanned cheeks were flushed red. His pupils were swallowing the pretty brown of his eyes, his fingers were tugging at the tight collar of his black clergy top. Your eyes zeroed in on the bulge in his pants before trailing back up. 
“You need to get on your knees and beg for forgiveness.” You blinked, eyes roaming the empty pews of the cathedral’s main room. His voice was echoing, sending a shiver down your spine as stain glass windows looked back at you. “Father Suguru I…” you swallowed, truly not anticipating the priest to go as far as he was. You hadn’t gotten this far in your daydreams, because you always convinced yourself the holy man wouldn’t give into temptation. Yet, you were taking a step forward, dropping to your knees before him on the cold marble floor. You felt like you should be ashamed of what you were about to do, not only in front of an altar, but with a priest… a man who swore his life to this work. 
“Don’t speak.” he commanded slowly, fixing you in place with a hard stare. Your lips closed again, any sort of reason leaving your mind as he started undoing his belt with one hand. The other came down to tuck some hair behind your ear, the motion far too gentle for the flames burning in his gaze. “Be a good girl for me, open your mouth and stick out your tongue.” You obeyed, Suguru’s eyes watched with dilated pupils as your pretty lips parted and your tongue appeared. He breathed out through his nose, leaning over you a little as his belt came undone. You flinched as he spit, saliva landing perfectly in your mouth. “Swallow it, sweet girl.” you did, eyes locking with his as you swallowed the contents in your mouth.
“You must really want forgiveness.” He mused, quickly undoing the button and zipper of his black slacks. You nodded slowly, being mindful to remain quiet just as he had asked. “Surely, this is your ticket to salvation.” You held in a gasp as Suguru pulled out his cock. It was certainly bigger than you had anticipated, tanned and long with pretty veins running up the sides. “Father Suguru… please…” you rasped, mouth watering at the sight of his pretty cock. “Atta girl, beg for your forgiveness, you can speak now.” Your lips parted, eyes trained on the oozing tip as Suguru wrapped his hand around the middle of his shaft. He was taunting you with it, moving it side to side just to watch your eyes follow it wherever it went.
“F-father Suguru I… I want to be forgiven for my sins… I want you to cleanse my soul with your gracious hands… Father Suguru please…” you begged him, breathing turning laboured as you waited for him to stop the torture and give you what you wanted. Suguru held his breath for a moment, heart racing as each syllable fell from your lips. “Please… god please.” you were breathless, eyes watering as you looked up at him. “Yes…” Suguru whispered, squeezing his length tightly before taking a half step forward. He was in mouth’s reach now, making your hips wiggle as your lips parted for him. “Please…” you said again, shivering as his second whisper of yes reached your ears. You took initiative now that he gave you his permission. 
You kept your hands folded nearly on your lap, only using your mouth to take him. With Suguru’s guidance, the weeping head of his cock was slipping between your lips. You inhaled through your nose, jaw struggling to open wide enough to accommodate him as you pushed your head further down his length. You were determined to take the priest’s entire cock, you wanted to hear his pretty moans bouncing off the walls of the cathedral. You locked eyes with him, swallowing around him just to see his eyes nearly roll back. You had to wonder if this was the first time he had ever gotten head, maybe this would be the first time he ever got to touch a woman. The idea of the priest above you being a virgin made your cunt clench around nothing. 
Suguru’s lips were parted, letting go of his cock as you began to bob your head, hands obediently on your lap. “Such a good girl… such a good girl… so so good…” be babbled softly, hands coming to cup your cheeks and guide you as his cock slipped in and out of the wet cavern of your mouth. You got off on his praise, fingers itching to sink between your thighs and toy with your clit just as you had described to father Suguru moments earlier. “So good, you’re such a good girl for not touching yourself yet. Surely you’ll be forgiven…” he groaned, head tilting back as your nose brushed the dark mess of hair at the base of his cock before you pulled back again. Each pass over your tongue, each time your throat constricted around him, it was enough to send him into a blissful state of euphoria. It was enough to make him question his beliefs. 
Your mouth was too preoccupied to ask, but you desperately wanted to touch his balls. They were sitting there, taunting you, growing shiny as your saliva cascaded down his shaft. You moved one hand, eyes still locked on his neck and chin since he was tilting his head back, to test the waters. Suguru didn’t seem to notice as your fingers danced up his thigh, tongue still lavashing him as your head moved back and forth in a steady rhythm. You hesitated for only a moment before gingerly cupping him, watching as his head shot forward to look down at you with a shocked expression. They were warm and heavy with his cum, tightening as you massaged them between your fingers. “Oh… good girl…” he said again, voice a little more broken than before as he uttered the same praise for you. 
The repetitiveness of it wasn’t an issue for you, if anything it got you going more. Every time he uttered the phrase, you felt yourself grow wetter, you were certain your panties were absolutely destroyed at this point. “I-I’m going to cum if you keep doing that… is that what you want, sweet girl?” he cooed, regaining a little composure as he spoke to you. You hummed, sending vibrations straight through him and eliciting a moan from his lips. “You want my cum, don’t you sweet girl. You want me to shoot my load right down your throat, right?” you hummed again, moaning around his twitching length as you squeezed his balls a little harder. Suguru cursed, the sound coming from the priest were enough to have your nipples bubbling, brushing uncomfortably against the material of your bra. “Fuck…fuck…” he panted, cheeks flushing a dark shade of pink as his fingers buried in your hair, no longer gentle as he rutted his hips into your mouth. 
You gagged, fully unprepared for the priest to take over the way he had, the sound echoing and only fueling the fire in his gut. Tears welled in your eyes, spilling over and down your cheeks as you let him thrust into your mouth as he pleased, fingers fisting in your hair just as your free hand fisted in the material of your sundress. You inhaled through your nose, lightheaded as the priest abused your throat to his liking. “Gonna… fuck gonna cum… oh yes, fuck… gonna cum down that pretty throat.” you whined, eyes nearly shutting before he commanded you to keep them open. “Look at me, the only way you can be forgiven is if you look at me, sweet-ah-girl.” He gritted his teeth, the pleasure ebbing up the back of his spine was going to make his knees week. Dutifully, you kept your eyes on him, watching his jaw go slack before he finally came. 
You flinched, throat constricting at the extra intrusion but relaxing a moment later. You swallowed, mildly disappointed he had waited until he was nearly down your throat to cum. You didn’t get to taste much, not until he drew his hips back and the salty taste dragged over your tongue. Suguru was panting, watching you reach up to rub your aching jaw as he tried to even his breathing. “You’re on the road to forgiveness, sweet girl. But I don’t quite think you’re there yet.” You looked at him with mild hurt, you had thought you had done so good. “Be a doll and strip for me… sit on the pew and demonstrate your sins from last night.” the priest was tucking his now softened cock away, trying to act as if he weren’t flustered in the slightest. “Father Suguru…” you spoke, voice slightly raspy from his use. 
“Yes? I believe I made myself clear.” he watched as you stood to your full height again, pulling your sundress off with no shame. You held his gaze as you pulled your ruined panties down, making sure he could see how destroyed they were before dropping them on the cold marble and walking down the few steps to the first row of pews. “I would much rather instruct you, I think it only makes sense for your pure hands to cleanse me of my sins in the deepest way.” You sat on the cold, polished wood, looking up at him where he stood on the elevated stage. He seemed to ponder your implications, huffing out a laugh before responding. “I guess that makes the most sense, you’re quite a smart, sweet girl.” You smiled at him, spreading your legs and moving to plant your feet on the pew. You were fully spread, the position mildly uncomfortable but you couldn’t really think past that point as cool air met your slick, displayed cunt. 
“Father Suguru, please… I want to be pure.” you coaxed him down, watching as he took shaky footsteps before dropping to his knees before you. “Tell me, sweet girl. Tell me how you indulged yourself and tainted your soul… let me save you.” You shivered as his fingers trialed up the bare skin of your thighs, brown eyes observing your cunt dutifully. Your hands found their home pressed flat to either side of you, supporting you against the polished wood. “My clit… I played with it until I left a wet mark on my sheets… I didn’t let myself cum for a long while…” you breathed out, watching as he nodded, cheeks red and lips glossy as his tongue swiped across them. “I see…” he started, moving one calloused finger to swipe up your slick folds. “...like this? Gentle strokes and circles, right?” he used his thumb to press against your clit, rubbing it in circles until he felt you twitch. “Y-yeah…” you sighed, head falling back. 
Suguru smirked, not moving any quicker. Your pretty sounds began to fill the empty cathedral, your arousal dripping down to the polished bench below you. He was careful with his movements, slowing until he was barely moving when he noticed you clenching around nothing, trying to draw your orgasm closer. “Be a good girl and let it happen… don’t force your body to cum because you think I’ll leave you hanging, sweet girl.” you whined, releasing the breath you didn’t know you were holding until he said that. You forced your head back down, face warm as you realized he was still intently staring at you. Granted you had done the same to him as you got him off. “Tell me, is this how you were sinning last night?” Suguru waited until you were about to speak, using two fingers and slipping them straight into your slick core. “Y-yeah…” 
Your body tensed again at the intrusion, moaning loudly as he massaged your walls. “I promise you, sweet girl, I will cleanse you.” he cooed, eyes focusing solely on you as he gauged your reactions. He would find that one particular spot, he was sure of it. “Please Father Suguru… cleanse me…” you cried out as he brushed it, a smirk curling the ends of his lips as he pressed his fingers into the front of your walls, thumb still sloppily rubbing your clit while his other hand squeezed your thigh. “S-Su…Father Suguru…” you croaked, tears leaking down your cheeks as he abused that one spongy part of your cunt. You couldn’t think straight, mind blanking completely as wave after wave of pleasure washed over you. “Go on, sweet girl, cum on my fingers.” He encouraged, voice so gentle you would have never guessed he was knuckle deep in your cunt. 
Suguru could feel it of course, your walls fluttering and twitching around his fingers as more and more of your slick arousal slipped out of you and down to the pew. “I’m gonna cum… Fa-ahh” you couldn’t get the rest out, hip jerking as your orgasm hit you before you could truly prepare. You cried out, the noise bouncing off of the cathedral walls as the priest continued to finger your cunt and circle your clit with his thumb. “S-Stop oh fuck s-stop…” you wheezed out, an unfamiliar feeling building in your gut as he continued to abuse that one spot with his fingers. “No, this is what you need, sweet girl, let it happen.” he encouraged, lips parted as he watched where his fingers had disappeared inside of you very intently. Your eyes screwed shut, trying to fight off the feeling but it was useless, the priest was unrelenting in his movements. 
Shockwaves of your orgasm turned into a full blown tsunami, your head falling back as a gush of fluid sprayed out of you and onto the bench and marble floor below. You cried out, his name mixed somewhere in the jumble of your babbling, utterly embarrassed. Finally, Father Suguru stopped, withdrawing from your body entirely and getting off his knees. “Sweet girl, what a mess.” he scolded you, a devious grin on his face still as he looked your wrecked frame over. “You’ve been cleansed, pretty. But I would argue that we should double… or even triple check to make sure it’s really working.” Your body felt heavy, eyes lidded as you merely nodded, cunt still fluttering at the thought of getting more of the priest before you. 
“I’ll make sure you are pure, my sweet girl.”  
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specshroom · 2 months
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★ - Some assistance
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You and your boyfriend are lounging on the couch in the living room, winding down after a long day. He's drinking his evening tea and reading while you unsuccessfully distract yourself by flicking through channels on the TV. You decide to just come out and ask what you've been meaning to ask for awhile now.
"Kento? Do you think you could make me squirt?"
This poor man chokes on his tea and almost messes it on his home shirt. He just looks at you with a face that says "Why would you ask me something like that so suddenly?" You just look at him deadpan waiting for his response. He clears his throat and composes himself, realising it was a somewhat serious question and his girlfriend (soon to be fiancé, hopefully) wasn't just playing some dumb joke. 
"Well... I'm sure I could try, Y/n. But why bring that up so out of the blue, if you mind me asking."
He responds, as polite as always. He makes you feel so safe in his presence it's almost supernatural.
"Uh... I've just been thinking about it for awhile, I guess." He places his mug on the coffee table, the one that says "Live, Laugh, Love" in exaggerated curly font, courtesy of Gojo. He doesn't know why you insist on making his tea in that mug but he drinks it every time anyway. He brings your legs into his lap and lightly massages them silently asking you to continue. 
"I'm just curious to see if I can is all. Whenever I've tried to do it myself, I always just get too sensitive and stop, but... If I had someone else do it, I think I might actually be able to."
You explain this to him almost like a scientist explains their hypothesis, like you've thought about it for awhile. He rubs under your shins and thinks for a bit. he would very much like to be the one to make you squirt and he's confident in his abilities but he also doesn't want you to be upset if you end up not being able to do it.
"I also just think it would be really hot if you made me squirt." 
That breaks him out of his thoughts with a disbelieving huff. 
"The problem is that when I get sensitive I'm gonna be yelling for you to stop out of second nature. But you can't stop Kento, you have to keep going until I either squirt or say the safe word. Can you do that, Baby?" Nanami looks up at your serious face, you really have thought about this quite a bit. He nods his head, sealing the deal. You just stare at eachother for a moment longer, the TV still going in the back. You break out in a smile, unable to keep the semi-serious atmosphere. 
"Can- can we do it now?" You ask the man on the opposite end of the couch while you try and stifle a giggle. 
Nanami smiles and pulls you closer to him by your legs. You yelp as you get yanked into his lap where he attacks your neck with kisses. He hoists you up and starts walking to the bedroom. Once he sets you onto your shared bed, you start removing your shirt and shorts while he rummages in the cupboard for a towel that he puts down on the bed before undressing himself.
You're almost shaking with excitement and anticipation. Nanami sits against the headboard in nothing but his boxers, placing the towel on the bed in front of him. He watches as you turn to him with that sultry look in your eyes. You crawl your way up the bed on all fours until you're right between his muscular thighs. Your hands glide up his thighs and waist, you kiss him with need and he reciprocates. You break the connection to feel yourself up infront of him and sensually take off your bra. You present yourself to him and kiss him again before turning around and pressing your back to his chest. 
His hands go to your waist to gently squeeze and rub there. You spare no flare when taking off your panties and you adjust yourself so that both your legs are wide open, slightly bent and his stronger ones are over yours, forcing them to stay open.
"Put your legs like this so that it stops me from closing mine when it gets too sensitive." 
You say as you help him into the position you want. Nanami chuckles and bends down to say lowly into your ear.
"You really have thought this whole thing through, huh?" 
You flush and nod your head as his hand moves down your body to where you want him the most. His touch is gentle at first, lightly stroking down your clit and lips, gathering wetness with his fingers. He starts to work his finger into you and gently rubs your clit with the other hand, coaxing you to melt into his touch. You start moaning and groaning with the pleasure your wonderful boyfriend is giving you. 
With both his hands working on your pussy so diligently, it's no wonder your first orgasm washes over you pretty quickly. Nanami keeps going at the same steady pace after you cum and it's the first out of the ordinary occurrence in this session. You usually would get a grace period after you cum to come down from the high but you and Nanami have a goal. The fact that you get no chance to come down at all is fucking with your brain and the fucked out feeling is just multiplying every second his strong hands play with your pussy. 
Nanami lays back a bit, forcing you to also lay back and expose yourself a bit more as you begin to writhe and squirm. One hand is still diligently circling your clit as he works his two middle fingers into you, slamming into that perfect spot inside you over and over and over again. You get louder and more frantic as the second orgasm hits you. Your head falls back on Nanamis chest as you groan his name. 
"Uuuuh Fuck! Feels so good Kento, soo good, so good, s' good, s' good, s' gud." You mumble and moan to him. Your second orgasm hits you full force and the pleasure doesn't stop or slow down, in fact it only gets more intense. He doesn't even slow down despite you're kicking legs and bucking hips.
Nanami eventually brings you to a third orgasm, now things really start to feel sensitive and your whines and cries of overstimulation get louder but the man doesn't tire. He keeps going, mumbling things like "Cmon, cmon Love." And "You can do it Darling". 
Before you know it the fourth wave hits you like a train, this is where you get frantically desperate as you realize he isnt even slowing down. You're now actively trying to get out of his iron hold, trying to close your legs just a little but his strong thighs keep you open for him. You're squirming and struggling and crying out.
"Wait wait wait wait!".
Your pussy is so raw and sensitive, you almost beg him to slow down but the man is going even stronger now. He's more precise with his movements, touching all the right spots with just the right amount of force to make you weep. 
"Wait Ken! It's sensitive, stoooop stopstopstop!" You hands go to his to try and make him slow down a little but Nanami isn't having any of that. You set out a goal for yourself and clear rules. He is going to make sure you reach your goals like the good partner he is.
He cages your arms against your chest with one arm hugged around you while the other still goes at your clit, rubbing frantic but deliberate circles into the pink flesh with his callous palm. The wet slick sounds of your pussy being bullied by the man you love are drowned out by the sounds coming from your mouth.
You're screaming now, legs shaking and kicking, not nearly strong enough to budge against Nanami's thick thighs forcing them wide open. Your entire body begins convulsing and spasming, you swear you feel like you're going to pee but you don't even have the mind to be concerned about that. You can only scream an intelligible jumble of pleas at this point as your nails dig into his arm. 
"Cmon Honey, just one more f'me, your doing so well."
The praise makes you go even dumber as you're quickly brought to the end of your rope. The last strand snaps and a tidel wave of violent hot pleasure comes crashing down on your entire being. Your eyes roll to the back of your head, your screams turn to silent hiccups and overwhelmed chokes.
Your body convulses violently and your back arches off Nanamis chest as he holds you tightly to his chest. It's by far the most intense orgasm of your life and you don't even register the jet of clear liquid shooting out from you untill you hear Nanamis loud groan at the sight.
"There you go, that's my girl."
You're brought back to earth and let out a long groan as Nanami presses up on the hood of your clit to force more squirt out of you, the feeling is even more euphoric than you thought it could ever be. 
Nanami pats your pussy, making sure he gets every last drop out as your wetness trickles down your pussy and ass onto the towel Nanami set down, which was definitely not enough to keep the bed dry. You drop your body completely limp onto Nanamis chest as you both catch your breath.
Nanami releases your arms and your hand immediately goes to cup your swollen, abused pussy with a whine. Nanami chuckles and runs his hands down your back and around your waist, soothing you, bringing you down gently while mumbling little praises. You curl up on top of him and dig your face into his neck with another small whine. 
"Love you s'much." You mumble into his hot skin. He chuckles at you once again. 
"I love you too, Baby."
-★
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claratyler · 1 year
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🙃 literally at the end of my fucking rope
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mrsoharaa · 4 months
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because i was inspired by a tiktok lol
You and Miguel get into a silly little argument before getting ready for bed. After finishing up your nightly facial routine, you crawl yourself into your shared bed. Pulling the comforting sheets over your body with slight assertiveness and aggression, wishing nothing but the pure serenity and peace slumber that was calling to you.
Exhaling one last huff, you felt the bed dip and creak on the opposite side of your own. Overwhelming heat basking off from his looming body, searing breaths prickling over the shell of your ear as wide, large hands gently caress the mount of your covered hips.
You were still angry with him, wanted nothing more but to forget the dumb argument and drift off into a sweet, sweet trance. To numb all of your senses and irrational plundering thoughts.
But一 Miguel was making it that much harder to simply forget.
His lingering touch always made you mold beneath his comforting, torrid graze. Soft, low whispers of feeble apologies in his Spanish tongue and cute pet names always tugging profusely at your conflicted heart.
No, you shouldn't give in. You were mad at him and he needs to know that.
Stand your ground.
Don't give in.
You try your absolute best to compose yourself into giving in to his subtle attempts of wooing you to his luring charm. You could still tell he was still on edge by the tensity in his muscles and heavy breaths, but the fact that he was derailing his pride and ego just to sincerely apologize and get closer to you made you question your own prideful distributions.
You tried.
But the moment his lips were seamed against your ear lobe, hands wrapping around your body to pull you back into his towering frame as he draws delicate shapes amongst the thick sheet shielding your cute belly一 all sense of pride and determination immediately deteriorated from your puttied mind.
"Lo siento mucho, mi amor... No quise decir nada de lo que dije antes...." he whispers huskily into your ear, feeling your body intensely tense under his grasp. He kisses the outskirt of your ringing ear, tenderly. ("I'm so sorry, my love… I didn't mean anything I said before...")
"let me hold you...I just want to hold you, hermosa" he clings onto you more desperately, strong arms tugging you much closer into his firm chest as he nuzzles his face into the crook of your neck. Warm breaths permeating into your warm flesh.
Instantly, you turn over to face him, cup his face and push your lips onto his with such vigor and passion. The taste of his full, sweet lips melding with yours blinding your petty decisions and tampered with your heart and mind.
Your fingers softly caress the solidity of his jaw, pressing your body into his as you hum lowly against his addicting, silken lips. Feeling him immediately, promptly follow your lead, you carefully pull away to take a breath. Allowing him to do the same, but with a tinge of distraught and dejection craning to his hefty breath.
Lidded large, round eyes of mocha following your every motion, finally connecting with your own wandering eyes.
"How can I stay mad at you when you talk to me like that, Miguel?...god, I hate that you have that sort of power over me" you breathe heavily, ghosting your lips just centimeters away from his as you feel the pads of his fingers slip into the sheeted cover and onto the bare of your torrid skin. Your own digits subtly grazing over his warm cheeks.
He gently places his forehead against yours, delicately tugs at your hips and inches closer to your lips.
"I could say the same thing about you, cariño..." he whisks mindfully.
"Just let me embrace you...I want to wrap myself around you and hold you...let me love you like you deserve, mi corazón"
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