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confused-pyramid · 12 days

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Breaking Point

pairing: art donaldson x fem!reader

summary: You and Art were hitting partners (and a bit more) in college, so when you run into him a decade later at the U.S. Open, old sparks reignite...

word count: 3.4k

warnings: SMUT, p in v, oral (fem!receiving), slight marking, drinking

a/n: I watched Challengers last night and then wrote this whole thing in one sitting. Nothing in this is really canon other than Art being a major simp lol so no spoilers for the movie! I usually make playlists (or at least find a few songs that get me in the zone) when writing, so I thought I'd start sharing them here too if people are interested!

You should've known he'd be here. You've been following his career for the last decade since you graduated, and ever since he won Wimbledon last year, he's been tennis royalty, but a small part of you still thought you wouldn't run into him here. At the fucking U.S. Open.

Stanford was a lifetime ago, and you haven't kept in touch with anyone from the college team, but there was always something about Art Donaldson that stuck with you. Ten years later, that hasn't changed.

"It's been so long," he calls out when he spots you from across the practice courts. "I didn't think I'd see you."

You didn't either, and you still haven't decided how you feel about it yet, but when he jogs over to your side, you just shrug. "Guess it's your lucky day."

He smiles, and his teeth glimmer in the bright sunlight. "It certainly is."

The loud thwacks of tennis balls hitting rackets echo around you, but you can't seem to focus on anything but the man standing in front of you. He looks good.

He was beautiful in college too, whether he was training across the net or slipping into your bed, but it feels different now, with so much time apart. He looks like a man now.

"Anyway," Art says, jerking you back to reality. "We should get a drink sometime. To catch up."

He adds the last part almost as an afterthought, but it doesn't escape your notice how his eyes have been trailing up and down your body since he walked over.

A drink could mean almost anything with Art Donaldson, but you're too curious to refuse. "Sure. This weekend, after the semi-finals."

He nods, his eyes glinting with amusement, and you grab your bag from the bench beside you before looping the strap over your shoulder.

You walk off the practice courts after one last glance over your shoulder, and you feel his eyes following along until the doors swing shut behind you.

***

He should've expected this. You were a firecracker in college, and you kept him on his toes every single day you were together, so he really should have known what he was getting into when he met you for drinks that weekend.

Instead, he's one too many beers in, and his buzz is only enhancing the glow of your beauty in the hazy bar light. Your dress isn't even that low cut, but something about the shadows glancing over your strong shoulders reminds him of late nights in the Stanford dorms after a hard practice when there was only one thing he wanted more than sleep.

"You played really well this morning," he says genuinely as he sets his beer back onto the table. "After that first set, Mueller didn't stand a chance."

You flash him a dazzling smile as you shrug, resting your chin on your palm. "I had her after the third game, but thanks. It was a quick match."

Art hasn't taken his eyes off of you since you sat down, and while prolonged eye contact usually makes you nervous, you find that you're actually enjoying the attention quite a bit. Attentiveness was never an issue with him, and you would normally give in to your urges, but there's just too much history with him, and you can't afford to lose focus. Not when the title is so close you can taste it.

"I hear the networks are eyeing you for a commentator post," you say, trying to change the subject.

You trace your finger around the rim of your nearly empty margarita, before lifting it to take a final sip, and you don't miss how his throat bobs as you lick the salt off your lips.

"Uh, yeah," he mumbles, clearing his throat. "It was just some chatter, but I'm not looking to retire anytime soon."

You frown. "Is that right?" He's playing better than ever, but he definitely hasn't been himself out on the court in years.

He glances down, clearly trying to avoid the scrutiny, and when his eyes land on your empty glass, he changes the subject again. "You want another drink?"

You shake your head, knowing that another will lead to a less than fun morning, but he isn't done yet.

"You sure?" His eyes find yours again, and this time the eye contact feels primal. "It doesn't have to be here."

Your eyebrows lift and you tilt your head with a knowing smile. "Where were you thinking?"

"I don't know," he shrugs, before his lips curve up into a cheeky grin. "My room's nice."

You saw it coming from a mile away, but it still pulls a laugh out of you. "Oh, I'm sure it is, but this isn't college anymore, Art. You should get some sleep...focus on your match in the morning."

You push your glass forward and stand up, nodding at him as you turn to leave, but then you see him stand too out of the corner of your eye.

"I'll walk you to your car."

He looks at you with a hint of amusement in his expression, and you can't help but want to play along, even though Art Donaldson was nothing but trouble for you.

You don't respond, instead just stepping out from around the table and walking out the front doors of the bar. You don't have to turn back to know he's right behind you, and when you reach your car, parked in the center of the nearly empty parking lot, you spin around.

He doesn't stop walking until he has you practically boxed in by your driver's side door, his face less than a foot from yours as he tucks his hands into his pockets.

He had pushed his sleeves back at some point in the night, from the humid summer heat of the bar, and you can see the veins on his forearms now, under the dim light of the street lamps.

"This is me," you say jokingly, tipping your chin at your car as he looks at you with an expression you can't distinguish. "I'm good from here."

He doesn't move.

It's not that you expected him to give up so easily; you had just forgotten how persistent he could be.

Art's mouth stretches into a slanted smile. "Do you remember the Davis Invitational? Junior year."

Speaking of his persistence...he had been pursuing you for months, not in any tangible way, but you always knew what he was thinking.

After the invitational, where you and Art had been the respective men's and women's champions, you had gone back to his dorm to celebrate. Three hours and just as many vodka shooters later, he had finally gotten you in his bed. Not that you were complaining.

Art knew his way around your body, and even that first night, he had managed to get you off more times than you can remember.

"What about it?" you shoot back, your eyebrows raising at the insinuation.

"Nothing," he says with a shrug, but you don't miss the humor glinting in his eyes. "You just used to be a lot more fun to celebrate with."

"Fuck you," you spit out, shoving his shoulder harder than you mean to. He barely budges, instead grabbing your hand and tugging you a few inches closer, and suddenly a wave of lust washes over you, making your breath hitch.

You press your thighs together under your dress, hoping he can't feel the heat spreading across your skin, but then his smile turns to a smirk and you know you're done for.

"What do you think?" he whispers, leaning in so close that his lips brush over your earlobe. "Want to celebrate?"

Molten lava pools in your gut and you are only peripherally aware of his hand sliding down your hips to the flowy edge of your dress. His fingers glide over your skin as his hand goes under the loose fabric, before rising up to grab your ass, drawing your hips flush with his.

Your arousal is already starting to soak through your panties, but the feeling of his hard bulge pressed up against you sends you flying back to reality.

You lift your hands to his chest and push him back so that he's a few steps away from you. It's not far enough, but at least you can't feel him from there. "I'm not fucking you, Art."

He shrugs, his smirk only slightly shaken. "Who said anything about fucking? I just wanted to talk."

You huff out a laugh. "You're funny. Besides, I'm too tired for this. I need to rest up before my match."

"What about tomorrow night then?" His lip is still curved up in a smirk, but there's an earnestness in his gaze that surprises you.

"What makes you think you'll still be here tomorrow?"

His mouth spreads into a wide smile. "I always win."

You snort. "Fine. Win your match and we can talk."

You don't miss the grin on his face as you climb into your car and leave.

***

You win your next match in straight sets again, so by the time you're out of the locker room, Art's match is still in play. Driven by a mixture of curiosity and intrigue, you head over to his court and find a seat halfway up the stands.

He has won two of three sets, and he's leading the fourth, so with the prospect of the match ending soon, you use the time to observe him from a different angle.

His form is much better than it was in college, and you've seen him play countless times on TV, but you haven't really let yourself see how good he looks out there. The sinewy muscles rippling in his arms as he lifts them to serve. The rugged sturdiness of his legs as he races back and forth across the court.

You wish you could be down there with him, running your hands over the smooth lines of his abdomen, tasting the drops of sweat as they roll down his body-

The crowd erupts in cheers, and you are thrust back into reality as Art throws his arms into the air with a loud whoop. The scoreboard confirms his victory, and you clap along with the audience as he shakes his opponent's hand and heads over to his chair.

People around you stand up to leave, but you stay in your seat, watching as he grabs his bag and stuffs his rackets inside. When he wipes a towel over his face, his head turns up and his eyes immediately go to you, like he knew you were here the whole time.

Your stomach does an involuntary flip and he flashes his eyebrows at you as you bit the inside of your lip, trying to hold back a smile.

When he ducks back down to grab his things, you stand up quickly to avoid letting him see your blush and follow the rest of the crowd off of the stands.

***

You hear it late that night. Three little raps on your hotel room door, just before midnight.

You're in the finals, and you don't have any friends here to celebrate with, so you were sipping a beer and watching old match recordings when you heard the knock.

There's no one else who would come to see you this late, so you're not surprised when you open the door to find Art, dressed in a tee shirt and comfy-looking pajama pants.

"What are you doing here?" you ask, even though you already know the answer.

Art just looks at you, his pupils already massive. "You said if I win, we could talk." He shrugs. "I won."

"Okay," you concede, opening the door wider to let him in. "Just talking then."

He nods, before following you inside and shutting the door.

"You want anything to drink?" you ask as he trails behind you.

He shakes his head. "I'm good."

You grab your beer bottle from the side table and sit down on the floor, crossing your legs beneath you.

Art sits across from you, his feet in front of him and his elbows on his knees. You were assigned to a modestly sized room, but for someone as tall as him, the space must feel cramped.

"How did the match feel?" you ask, taking a swig of beer.

He thinks for a moment. "It was close at first, but once I shook my legs out, it became a breeze."

"Your legs were never the problem," you say, leveling him with a serious look. "It was always your attitude. Or your confidence."

He frowns, his eyebrows scrunching slightly. "I'm plenty confident."

"You are now," you tell him as you swirl the bottle around in your hand. "You won Wimbledon, you have a reason to be confident."

That makes him smile. "So you're saying my legs are fine."

"Yeah," you say before you can process what you're saying. "You looked good out there."

His smile turns to a smirk so fast it nearly gives you whiplash. "You think I look good?"

You let out an exasperated scoff. "At tennis."

His grin doesn't falter so you roll your eyes at him before lifting the bottle to your lips to take another swig. When you tilt the bottle back down to swallow, his hand reaches forward to take it from you. Your grip on the beer doesn't loosen, so the motion sends you pitching forward.

Your mouth parts with a small yelp as his arm wraps around you, tugging you closer, and before you can process what's happening, his lips are on yours.

If you let yourself think too hard, you would realize that there is way too much shared history and way too much baggage here for this to be a good idea...so that's why you don't.

Instead, you let him pull your body flush against his and when his tongue slides over the seam of your lips, you grant him access immediately. Your shirts come off in quick succession and you gasp as his hands run up and down your body, his strong, calloused fingers grasping at every inch of purchase they can find. Yours reach up to tangle in his messy hair, and when his lips move down your neck, your grip tightens, making him moan quietly against your skin.

Something about being on the floor takes you back to your college days, when you'd both be so worked up after practice that you couldn't even make it to the bed, but that feels too real right now.

"Art," you whisper as he runs his lips and teeth over your neck, before replacing it with his tongue to soothe the quickly blossoming marks. "Art, the bed. Now."

It takes him a second to process your words, but when he does, he loops an arm around your waist and lifts you up and onto the bed in one motion, before pushing you back onto the covers.

By the time your head hits the bed, he's already pulling your shorts and panties down, exposing you to the cool air. His lips follow the path of his hands as they trace up your legs, making you squirm under the hot touch of his rough fingers. He presses wet kisses to the insides of your thighs before spreading them apart and dropping to his knees on the floor in front of you.

"So wet for me," he whispers, almost to himself, before he dives in, his mouth making lewd noises as he licks a thick stripe up your core. "You taste so good."

He lifts your legs over his shoulders to give himself some leverage as he makes a mess between your thighs, licking and sucking your clit into his mouth before fucking you with his tongue.

His grip on your thighs is the only thing keeping you pinned to the bed as you writhe beneath him, trying to not squeeze your legs together from the heat spreading up your core.

His mouth feels amazing and it takes only minutes before you're already nearing the edge. You don't want to come until he is inside of you, though, so you yank his hair, pulling him up and off of you.

He looks up at you through his lashes, and he looks ethereal with his disheveled hair and his chin wet with your slick.

You, on the other hand, look like heaven itself with your eyes half-hooded from pleasure, and he can't help the grin that crosses his face as he licks his lips and climbs over you onto the bed. He lets you taste yourself as he kisses you again, and he lets out a low groan when you bite his lip just hard enough to sting.

"Fuck me," you gasp, your voice too breathy to be actually authoritative. "Fuck me the way I like."

Art grins at your desperate tone and the wild lust in your eyes, committing this image to memory for a later time when you're much further away.

He kicks his pants off as he lifts you both further up the bed, and after covering himself with a condom from his back pocket, he lines himself up and slowly pushes forward.

He gives you a few moments to adjust to his size before slowly pulling out nearly all the way and then thrusting in again.

The slight pain turns to pleasure almost immediately, but he keeps his pace steady so as not to hurt you. You need more right now, so you wrap your legs around him for leverage and flip him over so that you're straddling him.

He groans as his head hits the pillow, and when he tries to sit up, you press your hands to his chest, pushing him down as you ride him. This position gives you a lot more control, and you use it to your advantage as you bounce yourself on his cock, feeling the way he fills you up so fully from this higher angle.

His fingers dig into your hips as he helps lift you up and down, and his eyes are practically feral as he watches the spot where his cock disappears inside of you.

He's the perfect size to fill you up completely, and with each swivel of your hips, you get closer and closer to your climax, which is approaching so fast you can taste it.

You cry out when he hits exactly the right spot deep inside of you, and his eyes fly to yours as your movements start to stutter from your impending release.

Needing to see the look on your face when you come, he pushes your lower back forward so you fall against his chest, before lifting himself up to meet you halfway. With one arm locked around you, he brings his other hand down between the two of you to rub quick circles over your clit. The new angle lets him thrust up into you, and the increased pace of his movements mixed with the speed of his fingers sends you flying over the edge.

Your mouth falls open with a loud cry, and you squeeze him so tightly he's practically seeing stars. You look so beautiful when you come, like a goddess sent down here just for him, and when your eyes meet his, he finds his own climax.

His body jerks forward with the force of his release, and you let him thrust a few more times as he finally finishes inside of you.

After pulling out, he tugs you down to lay next to him, and at first you let him, but the emotions warring inside of you don't stay quiet for long.

You know that whatever this was isn't going to go anywhere. You didn't work in college, and you won't work now, and you don't want anyone to get hurt again, so you have to make a choice. Now.

"I need to get some rest," you say quietly, a tiny part of you hoping he doesn't hear you. "Before the next match."

"Yeah," he sighs after a beat. "Me too."

You let him hold you for a moment longer, before he unwraps himself from your body and sits up, tugging his shirt and pants back on. You tug the sheet back and wrap it around your torso as he stands up and walks to the door.

You're not sure what you're expecting as he goes to leave, but what you get is a silent nod as the door swings shut behind him.

#art donaldson smut #art donaldson #challengers #challengers smut #art donaldson x reader #art donaldson x fem!reader #challengers fanfiction #art donaldson x female reader #art donaldson x you

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leclerc-hs · 5 months

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don't wake the kids - cl16

pairing: charles leclerc x nanny!reader (fem) summary: in which you got his daughter to finally fall asleep but risk waking her up not too long later warnings: 18+, slight smut, oral (f-receiving), bad french (please correct me i was tired while writing this lmao), not proofread!!!! word count: 1608 author’s note: i think i’ll write more for them bc i like the idea of single dad charles LMAO. this was fun xoxoxo

PART 2

✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦

THERE WAS SOMETHING about Mr. Leclerc that always made you stare at him in admiration. Maybe it was the fact that he always excelled at everything he did. For instance, raising a daughter on his own couldn’t have been easy. Hell, merely spending a single night watching over his kid has you feeling thoroughly drained. So, when Charles came home to you sprawled along his couch with the TV on a low volume, he wasn’t surprised. In fact, the sight brought a grin to his lips. You were the absolute cutest thing he had ever seen. Aside from his own daughter of course.

You weren’t even aware of the impact you left on him and his daughter. There wasn’t a day where you weren’t mentioned by his daughter. She adored you, and he did too.

“Comment était-elle?” How was she? His voice was deep as he dropped his keys on the table of the entry way table. “Fatiguée?” Tired?

You barely moved as he approached the room, too comfortable to even sit all the way up for him. His hands rest in the pockets of his dress pants as he leaned up against the arch of the living room, suit jacket slung over his shoulder, eyes never straying from yours.

You felt yourself swallowing harshly at the sight of him. He’s so fucking hot. “Elle était un ange!” She was an angel! There was a soft glow of moonlight that seeped through the curtains, casting a gentle radiance on the room as you whispered those words. You were whispering, careful to not wake her in the next room over. But also, in attempt to hide the desire in your voice. It would be a complete lie if you said you didn’t find him attractive. If you didn’t think about him that way.

With a subtle exhalation, Charles gracefully moved away from the archway, making his way towards the couch. He lowered himself onto the couch beside you, his head finding a comfortable perch on the back cushions, a gentle smile gracing his features. His legs extended languidly, and the contours of his thigh muscles subtly asserted themselves through the delicate fabric of his dress pants.

Turning his head to look at you, “Would you mind staying in the spare room tonight?”

His eyes, an enchanting shade of green, held you captive in a mesmerizing trance. Lost in their depths, his question became a distant echo, momentarily forgotten in the captivating allure of those verdant depths.

It wasn’t an abnormal question. At least, not anymore it wasn’t. You’ve been watching his daughter for months now and have occasionally crashed at his when it was too late at night. When you didn’t answer right away, lost in thought, Charles felt the need to wearily add an “I’m too tired to take you home.”

It’s not that you didn’t have your license, but you didn’t have a car. And because it meant more money, you always said yes. At least you always told yourself it was for the money. But it really was for all the times you got to see a shirtless Charles in the morning. His hair all disheveled, eyes full of sleep. The rasp in his voice. And also, the breakfast.

His hand swiftly dropped to your exposed thigh, the tennis skirt adorning your body doing little to cover you. He patted the area right above your knee softly for your attention, “Je suppose que tu n’as pas de vêtements; je vais te trouver quelque chose.” I assume you don’t have clothes; I’ll grab you something. The touch was so miniscule, so quick, that you could barely grasp the concept that it happened before he was already standing.

Although staying over wasn’t new, borrowing his clothes was.

You found yourself unable to speak as he stood from the couch and made his way to his room. The air was charged with a delicate tension. You were convinced it was the suit that had you stumbling for words, or maybe the fact you haven’t had sex in months and Charles is just that fucking hot, and in front of you, looking at you, touching you.

“J’espère que cela est assez bon.” I hope these are good enough. Bathed in the gentle luminescence of the room, Charles gazes down at you with an intensity the captures the essence of the moment. In his hands, he holds a neatly folded pile of clothes, extending them toward you with a certain grace. A faint, sleepy smile graces your lips as you accept them.

With a languid elegance, you begin to rise from the comfort of the couch, only to find Charles extending his hand toward you. His fingers confidently entwine with yours, pulling you up. Although, it seems Charles underestimated his strength because you are sent flying to your feet, awkwardly tripping in the process. But before you can make a total fool of yourself, Charles is slipping an arm around your waist, holding you to his chest.

You can feel your cheeks redden in embarrassment, “Je suis tellement désole.” I’m so sorry.

You feel Charles laugh reverberate in his chest, making you more alert of just how close you two were. “Ne sois pas désolée.” Don’t be sorry.

In that suspended moment, time seemed to stretch, creating a timeless place where you and Charles were encapsulated. Locked in a shared gaze, the world outside this intimate bubble ceased to exist. Uncertainty lingered in the air, an unspoken question hovering between you two. Charles’ firm hold persisted, grounding the moment in the tangible warmth of his touch.

As the stillness enveloped you, his eyes were fixated on your flushed cheeks, a canvas painted in hues of warmth. The intensity of his gaze conveyed an admiration that transcended words. To Charles, the sight of your blushing complexion was nothing short of captivating – an endearing revelation of vulnerability that only heightened your allure.

“Tellement jolie,” So pretty. The words were so soft. Barely audible if it wasn’t for your proximity. It was as if he didn’t even know he said them out loud.

You felt frozen while trying to decide if this was a dream or not. But when the pads of Charles thumbs made way to your face, tracing your bottom lip slowly, you knew you were fucked.

“Est-ce que je peux?” Can I?

You wanted to scream. Yes! You felt your stomach churning with need. But externally, you were calm. You needed to be quiet.

You made the move to nod your head when his lips collided with yours. It was slow and tentative at first. Like he was trying to test the waters. He pulled away for a moment, eyes staring into yours once again, as if he needed to make sure you were okay with this.

But as soon as he saw your lips draw into a smile, he knew he was fucked.

The second time your lips met it was feverish and messy. All tongue and no air. The clothes that he handed you previously, now lay on the floor in a messy pile, your hands sliding around his neck. You both go tumbling down onto the couch.

He groaned quietly into your mouth – a sound as if the taste of you was something he craved his whole life. His hands dropped from your jaw, closing around your neck, as you felt him push your further into the couch cushion with the weight of his body.

“J’ai besoin de toi,” I need you. You managed to slip the words out, your fingers trailing through his hair on the back of his head.

Before you had the chance to press your lips back together, he was pulling away, leaving you breathless and a little confused until his hands dropped to the waistband of your skirt. His fingers shoving their way in and pulling them down, your underwear being yanked off in the process. His gaze met yours once more, filled with anticipation and eagerness.

“Tu as l’air tellement putain de bien comme ça.” You look so fucking good like this.

Like this. Spread out and beneath him. Completely bare and whimpering for him.

You could hear him curse to himself as he draped your leg over his shoulder, seeing how wet you already were.

The first drag of his tongue on you was enough to make your back arch instantly. He groaned, his nose brushing against your clit as he dipped his tongue inside of you. Every dip of his tongue sent you bucking your hips harder against him. And he loved it.

With every stoke of his tongue, your fingers fisted his hair tighter. You began to buck your hips, so close to reaching your orgasm, but he denied. His hands were quick to push your hips down onto the couch. He wanted to hear you beg.

“Charles,” you sighed softly.

“Hm?” You didn’t even have to look at him to know he was smirking. His tongue was placing slow licks to your clit, light enough to keep you right on the edge.

“S’il te plaît.” Please.

Charles was back sucking on your clit in less than a second, his hands sliding up to your covered breasts, squeezing them. He moaned into your pussy, the sound enough to send you spiraling over the edge. You gripped onto anything that was near and placed it over your face, trying to cover the moans that were escaping your lips.

Your body shook as you pressed the pillow into your face. He licked you as you came down and didn’t stop until you were practically shoving him off.

His lips were glossy and puffy, coated with you. A smirk on his face as he stood up and looked down at you completely flushed on his couch, half bare. You looked at the bulge of his cock, pressing against the seams of his dress pants, and then back up at his eyes.

“Bedroom?”

#charles leclerc x reader #charles leclerc imagine #charles leclerc smut #charles leclerc #f1 imagines #f1 x reader #charles leclerc angst #charles leclerc fanfic #charles leclerc fic #f1 imagine #don’t wake the kids cl16

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ivoryratdoggerythethird · 27 days

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ok but bsd chapter 114 revealing the flipside of the soukoku dynamic in all its glory like *chef's kiss*

turns out that when the mission's (almost) done and you put skk in a room with no witnesses they just become each other

dazai is the one unable to stay still, agitated and wearing his emotions openly and very much stressing about a plan he can't understand (how the tables do turn), literally YELLING and RUNNING of his own violation and doing actual labor of pulling out "fyodor" from beneath a whole ass helicopter while injured without asking for help because the brawns of the team is actually secretly a black cat character

insane how chuuya makes dazai look like the overactive dog archetype here like Mister Gravity Control and I Crack Walls & Chains With One Kick is just sitting full-on cheek on fist poker face watching his beanpole of a partner struggle. his health bar is like full too besides the brief drowning stint meanwhile he himself shot dazai like three times after he crawled out of a crashed elevator

(chuuya is actually such a little shit it's amazing like it was kinda shown in him just letting kunikida blow himself up without even trying to take on tecchou or as if he couldn't just fly the helicopter away with his ability? the pm's trump card, stronger half of soukoku? mans said "boss told me come get you" and by god that is the only job he will do, overtime means nothing to him because he can't read, what a king)

chuuya is literally only willing to do the BARE minimum it's hilarious like he's done his part, he's given the Oscar-winning vampire performance of a lifetime, now he's pulling a dazai-at-the-ADA and simply refusing to work like. chilling in the back while dazai monologues and fyodor dies. bouncing sigma like a tennis ball. chilling a corner while dazai brainstorms. leisurely following dazai's running. chilling in the back while dazai huffs and puffs to pull out the body.

the biggest bsd plot twist is that soukoku on and off the battle field just switch roles for who's lounging like a bored princess while the other toils and actually does the work. if they both ever actually work on something at the same time yokohama would probably explode.

#god imagine if thats how mori kept them from accidentally destroying the country #with their combined overpowered-ness and utter lack of common sense #“mori says its my turn to Think”#“oh thank god i've been waiting to sit around like a useless log”#the sigma show #soukoku #dazai osamu #nakahara chuuya #bsd #bsd manga #bsd ch 114 #my post

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blondedmuse · 4 months

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SUMMER DAYS

synopsis. ꩜ what it’s like to spend your summer days at Saltburn.

author’s note. ∿ this was supposed to be a drabble/headcannon but i can’t write anything short it seems; allusions to smut, fluff.

at breakfast

you sat next in between Venetia and Farleigh, across from your lover, Felix. Sir James would ask you if you slept well and had a good night, a kind and common courtesy for any guest he’s hosting at his home. Everyone turned to you as you nodded, recalling the night before. It was spent in Felix’s room, his hand over your mouth as you moaned, careful not to wake anyone up.

“Yes, I slept well,” You answered. Everyone probably noted that your hair indicated other wise, just slightly messier and unkempt than it’s usually been in the morning. But you wondered if everyone could see the cheeky smile on the boy across from you at the table.

in the pool

You swam after breakfast with Venetia while the boys sat in the lounge chairs. You’d asked Felix to swim with you but he insisted he'd finish the book he was reading. While Farleigh got into the pool after a few splashes from Venetia, it seemed as though Felix needed more convincing.

"Don't you wanna get in the pool?" You asked Felix, crawling up his body on the chair. "The water's nice, it'll cool you down-" he started tickling you before you could finish your argument, trying to get your wet body away from his.

"Christ, you're cold!" He laughed as you attempted to fight back, pushing away his arms with yours.

"Fine, you want me to go in?" He caved, picking your body up from on top of him and walking over to the ledge of the pool. "You first."

You screamed as Felix threw you from his arms into the hair, hitting the water with a splash. Felix followed suit, diving in right after.

"Is this what you wanted, darling?" He said swimming over to you and you wrapped your legs around his frame underwater, bringing him closer to you.

"Exactly." You answered, locking your lips with him only for your kiss to be interrupted by Farleigh's fake gags.

"Get a room!"

on the court

you were invited for a match of tennis. You changed from your bathing suit attire into a silk dress, a pair of sunglasses and heels, which is not necessarily ideal for the sport but you wanted to follow formalities. You and Felix were paired together for the doubles game against Farleigh and Venetia.

It was nonchalant the way you all played, slightly lethargic from the champagne you’d been drinking. Still, Felix managed to keep the score and in the final game of the second set you scored the winning point for your team. And to celebrate Felix lifted you off the ground, throwing you over his shoulder.

“Fantastic job, love!” He laughed, spinning you around.

“Felix, put me down!” You exclaimed, slapping his back playfully in between giggles.

“Did you guys see that?” He taunted the other team. “We have a new Wimbledon star over here,” He beamed jokingly and Farleigh was quick to flash him the finger, watching Felix pop another bottle of Champagne.

in the field

You laid bare on your stomach, a cigarette hanging out the side of your mouth as you read one of the few books you packed with you.

"There you are," Felix said, stripping off his suit from earlier's tennis match. "You like what you see?" He asked as he watched you stare intently and he shot you a coy wink.

"You know it, baby," You replied, lifting the sunglasses to rest on your head so you could see Felix in all his glory.

"They say it's rude to stare," he declared, walking over to you and sitting down on the ground next to you.

"Then I guess I'm the meanest bitch alive," You smiled and he plucked the cigarette from your mouth. You gasped, (jokingly) jaw dropped.

"They also say it's rude to take things that aren't yours."

He raised his eyebrow playfully as he took a drag, teasing you. You rolled your eyes and he laid down next to you.

"They also say sharing is caring," He exhaled.

You scoffed with a chuckle. "Shut up. Who is 'they’ anyway?" You questioned and he shrugged, offering you your own smoke back. Nonetheless you accepted it as he kept it steady while you took a drag. Your head rested on his shoulder as you puffed out the grey odor, and he watched in admiration. He observed how the sunlight pooled in your eyes and the way your lips curved as you breathed out the stench in clouds. Sure, Saltburn was his house, but the weight of your head on his shoulder made you feel like home, and he appreciated every moment of it.

at dinner

you felt intimated by the sophisticated customs at Saltburn and dinner was no different. You sat at the large dining table next to Felix, his hand on your thigh.

"You look beautiful, my love," He told you as he passed you a bottle of wine, which you gladly accepted. You were dressed in an evening gown to match the black tie attire everyone else had shown up in, yet you still felt out of place like a sore thumb. You poured a glass of wine, hoping it would ease your anxiety.

"Not too much, darling," Felix warned, giving a slight squeeze to your leg. He could sense your nervousness, having been watching you toy with your jewelry for the past five minutes. But, he didn't want you falling over yourself by the end of the night either. You looked around and everybody seemed to be occupied with conversation of the company around them so it seemed like you were in clear to have a side conversation with your lover.

"I know, I just feel like I don't belong here."

Felix grabbed the hand that was fidgeting with your necklace and brought it to his mouth, his lips leaving a delicate kiss on your skin.

"You of all people deserve to be here. There's nothing to worry about." You didn't say anything, only huffed as you bit your lip. "And if you don't believe me and you still feel nervous, just squeeze my hand alright?"

You nodded, accepting his offer and holding his hand in yours as the woman next to him dragged him into another conversation. Still, when you squeezed his hand, it was always reciprocated, Felix unable to ignore you.

at the lake

you and Felix giggled, arms linked together as you headed towards the body of water. You excused yourselves from dinner early—dragging on with meaningless conversation you began to zone out from, and Felix was just as bored as you. Dinner wasn't usually like this but the additive guests, the Henry's, seemed to dull the excitement with their own stories solely for the purpose of one-upping the Cattons it seemed. So, Felix came up with an excuse for the both of you, something along the lines of 'you weren't feeling well' and he 'needed to take care of you' which wasn't entirely untrue. Boredom is an uncomfortable feeling which Felix needed to take care of by something more fun.

"Thank you for that but why did you have to make me the damsel in distress? They're going to think I'm a snob," You whined.

"They would never. But me on the other hand? Yeah I think you're a snob. Making me carry your heels is outrageous," He teased with your shoes in his hand and you shook your head unable to hide your soft giggles.

"But they do love you y'know."

"Whatever," You mumbled and you felt your feet lift off the ground as Felix threw you over his shoulder. You watched him put your heels down and the ground started to move below you.

"Felix! Put me down! Where are you-" You saw the edge of the lake and it clicked. "You are not throwing me in without a bathing suit! Felix, please!" You screamed, resorting to slapping his back.

"Quiet, love, you're gonna get us in trouble."

"I don't have another dress, put me down!" You demanded.

"You can borrow one, its fine." With that he threw you into the lake, your body sinking into the cold water.

"Felix!" You cried as you resurfaced, watching him stand at the lake's edge completely dressed and completely dry. "It's cold!" What am I supposed to wear after this?"

"You can take my jacket," He reassured you after he stripped himself of his suit, jumping into the lake after you, only clad in boxers.

He swam towards you. "You poor baby."

"It's cold."

"How 'bout I warm you up then?" His hands were at your sides, pulling up your dress under water, his mouth hot against your neck as he began to mark his territory. You knew now that the night would end with you in his bed like it had for the past week, and you would be asked about it all over again at breakfast—but there's no other way you'd want to spend your nights and summer days.

#jacob elordi #felix catton #felix catton x reader #felix catton x you #felix catton x y/n #felix catton saltburn #saltburn #oliver quick #blondedmuse.nsfw #felix catton smut

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spicymancer · 9 days

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What was the process like for designing the ActiRangers, their civilian and suited forms? Their suits look so cool, it’s definitely clear you have a lot of familiarity with the genre while also having great ideas on how to innovate and add your own unique elements! Did they go through lots of conceptual iterations, or did they come pretty naturally? Any particular teams that inspired you, like SPD or RPM with their numbered members?

So the Actirangers started out as characters designed for a private little Tokusatsu OC jam I did with some friends! The design I submitted was Pink, (hence why she's kinda the main character of the story)

(Real name and certain background elements redacted for spoiler reasons)

So Pink's suit was the first one designed, hence how she's kinda the most basic of the Rangers. I had just got done watching Birdie Wing and Love After World Domination and thought it would be kinda fun for a golf themed sentai hero.

She was originally going to be ActiRanger 5 before I thought of the "Four/Fore" golf pun.

The rest of the team was then designed from there with each of their sports in mind and some general vibes.

I don't think they went through all that much iteration, though I will say since I tend to draw them in Black and White I sometimes mix up which parts of their suits are their color and which parts are black.

I wanted to give them each some kind of Power Weapon so I stuck to stick sports and also Table Tennis. (I am still weirdly fond of the old Penny Arcade Paint the Line comics)

As far as Power Ranger teams that inspired them, Mighty Morphin' is obviously the biggest inspo. (The Dan Mora run on the Go Go Power Rangers comics is awesome.) Time Force, S.P.D. and RPM were all on my mind as well.

For the Gambit Gang I was struggling to come up with a fun villain theme and eventually figureod out that the enemy to the "Sports" team had to be the "Chess Club". (Insert joke about polycules and board games)

Gray in particular was conceived at this point when I and wanted an Evil Ranger on their side. Chess Knights having a vague horse theme, he obviously had to be Polo! His design draws pretty heavily from Mystic Force's Koragg which is still IMO one of the sickest designs Sentai has ever cooked.

Wow that got a little more long winded than I inteded but I hope y'all enjoyed this little peek behind the curtain of the ActiRanger's development!

Thank you all for enjoying my silly OC comics and doodles!

#oc questions #actirangers

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evermoredeluxe · 7 months

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#arshia talks

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wishlistcharles · 12 days

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secrets we keep (pt1) → mv1

max verstappen x perez!fem reader

genre: one night stand, teammates sister, pregnancy

cw: 18+ MDNI, smut, oral (male receiving), p in v, slight spit play, dirty talk, mentions of pregnancy, pls let me know if i am forgetting anything

word count: 3.1k

song: too sweet - hozier

sidenote: hi everyone! finally a new fic is here and it's a max one! this is going to be a two parter, so keep an eye out for the next one! please let me know if y'all have any ideas or requests for a fic (I write for all drivers), also not beta read. hope you all enjoy <3

♡♡♡♡

The roars of the crowd were loud as Max crossed the finish line, followed closely by Sergio. For a second there you had thought your brother would overtake the world champion, but nonetheless he fought hard and gave the team what they wanted, a 1-2 finish.

It wasn’t often you got to go to your brother's races, maybe only a handful a year but you were lucky to be able to get the time off to join your niece and nephews for the Japanese Grand Prix. Sergio would topple over if he knew you had the hots for his teammate. Every time you have met with Max, it’s been very cordial. Polite hellos, asking how life in Mexico is, what you have been up to since he last saw you.

A part of you wondered why he was so timid with you. Was it because of Sergio? Being the baby of the family left him feeling protective of you, but you don’t think that would affect how Max interacted with you. I mean you barely saw him.

Watching the pair on the podium set tears in your eyes. You were extremely proud of your big brother and his teammate.

Your dad absolutely adored max and had invited him to join us for a celebratory dinner after the race. Which to your surprise he happily accepted.

You were staying at the same hotel that both the bulls were at, so reconnecting for dinner would not be difficult. After the race you decided to head back to freshen up and change your clothes into something a little more fancy. At the race you were wearing a white tennis skirt with a red bull polo tucked in. For dinner you decided to wear a black over the shoulder dress that fit you perfectly. Finally ready you walk down and see that only Max is waiting in the lobby. Your stomach turns at the thought of being alone with him.

Picking his head up from looking down at his phone he notices you walking toward him and waves shyly. “Hi y/n, looks like it’s only us ready” he said in a tiny voice. You are always so used to him being outspoken it kinda scares you a little. “hi maxie, you know how my family is with time management, they should be down here soon” you said with a laugh, not even acknowledging the nickname that slipped from your mouth.

A sudden tinge of pink washes over Max’s cheeks and you feel heat radiating up your neck. Act cool, you keep telling yourself but you are so nervous. Max was all you ever wanted in a guy. Handsome, sweet, confident, the list could go on. You knew deep down though your worlds would never clash well. You lived in Mexico with your parents - working as a teacher. Max lived in Monaco and raced for one of the best teams in formula one history, surrounded by models throwing themselves at him. You couldn’t blame them, you would do the same, if you thought you ever had a chance.

“No worries, I always have to wait for Checo to come to our team meetings” he laughed. “I bet, if there’s one thing my brother isn’t know for it’s being on time, thank you for coming to dinner with us though, we really appreciate it, I know my dad and brother do a lot”

With a smirk on his face something shifts “oh just your dad and brother, not you?”. You feel the breath knocked out of your lungs, just as you are about to open your mouth to respond, tiny roars make notice in the room and you almost fall at your nephew running to you, so you could pick him up. Silently you thank your nephew for the interruption.

Dinner goes smoothly. You sat at the opposite end of the table with the kids, while your brother, dad, and max were deep in conversation. You swore that Max kept looking at you though, sneaking glances.

As the check gets situated, all of you make your way out onto the busy streets of Japan. You hear your brother speak up “Y/N are you gonna come get ice cream with us” and while you were deeply contemplating it, you decided to pass up the offer and head back to the hotel.

“No I think I'm gonna head back to the hotel and pack, I want to take the kids to get breakfast tomorrow morning before we leave” you say.

“no puedes caminar solo es tarde en la noche” (you can't walk alone, it's late at night) your brother worries.

“Sergio, I'm fine, it's not that far from the hotel, I'll grab a taxi” before he could protest, Max jumped in.

“I can take a taxi back with y/n, I'm super tired after the race, and I'll make sure she makes it to her hotel room”

“Are you sure Max?” Sergio asks.

“Yes I'm sure, it was a lovely evening, thank you for inviting me”

Your family bids their farewells and walks away, leaving just the two of you waiting for a taxi. As you guys are picked up, you both don't say a word in the car, sitting in an uncomfortable silence. Max pays the driver and you thank him quietly. Making your way up to the floor where both of your rooms are, you stop at his first. “Thank you for bringing me back Max, I appreciate it”

“Of course it's no problem, hey I'm actually not really that tired, do you wanna play Fifa or watch a movie?” he asks. Something deep down is telling you to decline. Spending time with him is just going to dig you deeper in a hole with how you feel about him, nonetheless, you can't let this opportunity go and accept this offer.

Walking in you notice the room is ten times bigger than yours, with a balcony and jacuzzi tub in the middle of the bathroom. Max must notice your awe because he says “I don't know why they give us such big rooms, we are hardly ever even in here”

“Haha it's nice for Checo because the kids get to play around”

“You are really close with them, aren't you?”

“They are practically my own, when their mom is out doing business I usually keep them, I also help homeschool them”

“Well that's very sweet of you” he says while taking a seat on the bed, while motioning you to do the same.

“Do you want something to drink” he offers

“No I'm okay” you politely decline. You still can't believe this, you are in Max Verstappen's room all alone.

“Okay let's put on a movie! What are you up for, should we do action” you sense a sudden shift in his mood, you can't quite place it, maybe excitement. You believe he can probably sense that you are nervous. The mention of action makes your ears perk up.“Can we please watch fast and the furious, I am on a mission to have all my friends watch it”

Max doesn't protest, just laughs quietly and nods, setting the movie in place. You make yourself comfortable and take off your big hoop earrings and heels- even though they werent big by any means they still hurt you. Once you are back in bed with him, you notice him looking at you.

“Is there something on my face?” You laugh

“No i just guess I never noticed how different but similar you look from checo”

“Really? How so?” You question

“Well for one, you are very pretty, but you have the same freckles that Checo does covering your cheeks and nose” Max’s comment has you feeling shy, you know you must be sporting a prominent blush across your face and neck.

“well thank you Max, it's funny because growing up, i never had freckles, but i think being out in the sun for races and the kids karting tournaments have really brought them to surface”

“That's interesting, I admire how close to your family you are, something I wish I had” he says so quietly you almost miss it. You don't know what possesses you to do this but you place your hand over his and say “you are always welcome in this family max, we all love you, and no matter where sergio goes next year- you will always be welcomed with open arms”

He stares at you with a blank face- unable to tell what he's thinking you begin to think that was the wrong thing to say when suddenly he leans down a plants a gentle kiss over your lips. You gasp at the touch. Max pulls back with wide eyes and says “shit I shouldn't have done that, Checo will kill me if he found out”. Instead of agreeing with him, you keep your hand held tightly over his and whisper “he doesn't have to know”. That's all it seems to take for max to lean back in and start kissing you.

You grab the front of his shirt, gripping the fabric in your hands. His palm cups your jaw, slowly deepening the kiss. Once his tongue makes his way in, you let out a quiet moan.

Grabbing your hips, Max shifts your position so that you are laying on the bed while he towers over you. “You are so pretty y/n, been wanting to do this forever” he says while tucking a strand of hair behind your ear. While you want to pour your heart out, your nerves stop you and all you can do is nod and say “want you so bad max”.

He continues to kiss you, tracing his mouth up and down your neck and along the junction between your shoulder and neck placing feather-like kisses. There’s nothing more that you want then for him to leave a big bruise plastered for everyone to see but you knew that wasn’t possible.

You grab his head and place your lips back on his. Moving his hand to your hair he grips it tightly, keeping you in his control. Slowly he rocks his hips down to meet yours, creating a union of moans to spill from the both of you. This must be the breaking point for max because he stops to take off his shirt and grabs your dress to do the same. Not before asking “is this okay”.

“Of course it’s okay, I want all of you” you whisper out. His pants also come off in the process. Both of you left in your underwear. You could feel yourself soaked through your panties. Max moves his hand so that his thumb is slowly running along your slit through the fabric. A moan is pushed out of you with a quiet plea of more.

Growing impatient you tug the straps of your bra down your shoulders exposing your breasts to him. This catches his attention because Max is on them immediately. Sucking and kissing them, basically worshiping them. “Fuck, these tits are perfect. They were practically popping out of your dress earlier, wanted to take you to the bathroom at the restaurant and just suck on them for hours”

You would have never guessed Max to be into dirty talk but it’s a pleasant surprise. “I want you in me Max, please, I’ve been waiting for this”

“How can I deny such a pretty girl? '' With that being said, Max gets up and walks to his bag to pull out what seems to be a condom. While he’s doing that, you shimmy your underwear down your legs and throw it somewhere in the room. Before he approaches the bed, Max takes his underwear off and you see his cock spring free. Your mouth instantly waters at the sight. He’s big, just like you thought he would be. Pale and veiny. Pink and wet at the tip.

You wanted him in you but not before you got a taste of him. You motion him up towards your mouth, so that his legs are on both sides of your shoulders. “I want to taste you, can I Max?” You said hoping your voice and eyes truly show the desire you have burning for him.

“Go ahead sweetie, suck me off”

That’s all you needed to hear before taking the tip in your mouth, lightly sucking. Max groans at the sensation and places a hand behind your head for support. Popping yourself off the tip, you lick a long strip under his shaft, following the prominent vein that lies there. You place feather-like kisses on the head hoping to tease him. As you look up at him, you see his mouth slightly agape, eyes stuck on you. “Don't tease me baby, c'mon”.

You start to bob your head, up and down, making sure you move your tongue back and forth. You palm at his balls and hear a hiss, thinking he must be sensitive.

“Fuck, you suck me off so good, this mouth was made for me, wasn't it y/n”

You whimper at the words and try to push yourself further down his cock. Grabbing your head, he pulls you off and says “I need to get in you”.

You nod your head fast and practically beg “please Max, please want you in me”.

As he positioned himself between your legs, he's looking directly at your core, you start to feel a bit insecure and try to close your legs, but he uses both his to keep them open. “You have such a pretty pussy, want to absolutely devour it” what he does next has you almost combust. He hovers his mouth over your core and lets a string of spit come done to coat you. Taking his index and middle finger he holds you open and lets another drop of spit fall on you. You are moaning so loud, you place your hand over your mouth to try and keep yourself quiet.

Max places two fingers in you while simultaneously rubbing slow circles over your clit. You are desperate for him to get in you. “Max I'm good, you can get in me”.

That's all he needs to hear before he puts his condom on and sinks into you. The burn is unlike anything you have felt before. You were definitely not used to his size but the stretch was addicting. As he builds up pace, you place your hands over his back, your fingernails gripping onto his shoulders, it feels so so good. “Faster” you whisper. Max listens. You could already feel the coil in your stomach about to snap, what pushes you over the edge is Max’s dirty talk. “You wrap around me so good, best pussy I've ever had, what would people think if they saw my roommate's sister coming all over my cock” you can't respond, all you can do is moan.

Finally catching your breath you say “you feel so good Max, you are gonna make me cum” and you tuck your head into his neck licking a fat stripe near his Adams apple. “I'm gonna come too, come with me y/n”.

The next couple of minutes go by in a blur, you feel yourself clenching on his cock, cumming while he pumps in and out of you with his hand rubbing at your clit. He kisses you hard as he groans into your mouth. “Fuck that was good” he states and all you can do is nod.

Max takes off his condom, and goes to the bathroom, returning in his underwear, with a warm washcloth. You feel embarrassed but you let him clean you up. You are left undressed so you ask if he could hand you your dress. The room is filled with an awkward tension. Max can tell because he lays down on the bed and pats it for you to lay with him.

You feel like you should decline and be on your way, not wanting to overstay your welcome. But you genuinely don't think this will ever happen again and want to cherish what little time you have in the same proximity. You lay with your head on his chest and his arm thrown over you with the tv playing in the background. Time passes quickly and within 30 minutes you hear soft snores coming out of max. You take this as your cue to leave. You slip yourself away and gather your belongings. Taking one last glance at him you smile and quietly make your way out of the room.

You don't have a lot of time to reflect once you get back to your room because you have to shower, and pack for your flight in the morning. You don't know if you and Max will ever reconnect like that, but you are grateful for the time you shared.

You don't see or hear from Max before you leave Japan, but maybe it's for the best. Your brother didn't expect anything and you are determined to keep it that way.

The first couple of weeks back in Mexico were rough, slowly recovering from your trip. Around 6 weeks after being home and two more grand prix taking place, you feel sick, like a stomach bug has really knocked you down. It was so bad that you weren't able to go to the Miami gp like you wanted.

Deciding it has been lingering for far too long you decide to go to the doctor. The first thing they ask you is if it's possible if you are pregnant. Your first thought is no, but you remember you and Max had hooked up around two months ago. You feel a pit in your stomach and your heart rate speeds up. You couldn't be right, he wore a condom, and you hadn't had sex for like a year prior to that.

After you take your pee test, you have never been more scared or felt more alone. You want your mom here. After what felt like an eternity, the doctor came in with a smile and sat down. “Congratulations y/n you are pregnant”. The world came to a stand still and all you can do is cry.

Because how in the hell are you going to tell your brother you are pregnant with his teammate's baby. How are you going to tell Max that you are pregnant?

Simple. You won't.

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