#and demand you go to therapy about it | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

ybklix · 8 months ago

Text

stressed out

★ pairing: dr!chrisbang x fem!uni student reader

✦summary: Your session with Dr. Bang gets interesting when he kindly decides to relieve the stress you're carrying from the last days of university before the summer break, without knowing that all the tension in your body is due to the great desire you have for him.

✭ content - tags - warnings: MDNI 18+ , smut, oral sex, cunnilingus, fingering, unprotected sex, slightly dirty talk and praise kink, use of nicknames.

word count: 7.7k

—masterlist—

a/n: yk me, a little story that leads to smut.

It was your last day at the university, one more semester finished. You were so close to free yourself from that heavy semester at the university, but somehow you didn't feel so free at all, you were still worried about getting good grades, you knew you would pass everything without difficulty but you were a little demanding with your grades, so you were nervous, and you left your last class a little crestfallen, something that the rest of the students celebrated non-stop, you sighed, you had heard in the distance of the infinity of parties planned, the perfect vacations of the rest, but you could only think about packing all your things without worrying and your mother who would be waiting for you outside the university to spend the summer at home.

Despite being a bit stressed and upset about the soon to be released grades, you had dressed up to finish a cycle feeling cute; you had a nice outfit and your makeup intact so you thought about calling your friends to hang out for a while, who had skipped the last class downplaying it and self-assigning them the break, you checked your group chat and read that they would be in the coffee shop across the building if you wanted to join them... but in the midst of the campus and student chaos, you realized it was Friday. Friday. Of which usually aren't just those days for you. You knew so well what day it was in the morning so you picked the perfect outfit for it, but between the stress and caos of being the last day, you became unaware of the rest of your activities.

Every Friday, at least since this semester, since for a long time it used to be Wednesdays, you had counselor sessions with Dr. Bang, an overworked psychiatrist with four jobs at once, director of a mental institution, his own consulting room, professor and simply student counselor, Bang didn't want to take the big job of being a therapist for the students but upon detecting any alarming problem he was well within his rights to ask the student for professional help, with their cooperation and consent, clearly. You met Dr. Bang just at the worst time of your life, but the timing was perfect, he managed to break you out of a hole that seemed to have no way out.

You had a very painful loss just before finishing high school that altered your mental health completely, your father passed away and a month later you finished your high school studies, so that did not affect so much your streak of student excellence, by that time you had everything ready for admission to any university of excellence for which you applied. Until the university you always dreamed of accepted you and in a short time you were dealing with grief and the pressure and stress of a new place and environment, you moved away from home promising your mother to continue being a good student, but you were in a deep depression and had recurrent anxiety attacks, terrified that you were not good enough, which complicated your studies… and more when without thinking, you planned and considered leaned for health sciences, pushing you to the limit. You were so embarrassed because all your life academically you were a complete overachiever and suddenly you couldn't cope with college, you felt more awful, a total disappointment; so with a mediocre grades -for you- you passed the first semester and continued the next one, this time committing to do your best and going to therapy, plus your mom noticed the obvious alarming signs the few times she saw you during your winter break, she understood the magnitude of things and offered you to take a break, but you were not like that, you couldn't take it or you would feel things would get worse. You switched dorm buildings and that's when you met him… in one of the study halls near your building, one random Wednesday afternoon when you decided to study, 'Counselor Dr. Bang', engraved on the plaque on that door at the end of the hallway… it sort of caught your attention, you thought if counselors in high school was the same as in college and that if anything... he could give you more of a vocational orientation than a psychologist; since you had tried everything, your old study method, countless other techniques, going to study in groups with your smug classmates with superiority complex, but nothing worked for you to retain important information, you thought that maybe you needed someone mature who could guide you.

After that day, you tried to get together to study again in a group, exactly in the room of that building and out of mere curiosity you asked what in particular does 'Dr. Bang', to which you remember perfectly that suddenly all their eyes were focused on you, “Oh, he's also a psychiatrist, he helps a lot, from what I've heard”, you remember their answers.

You then asked how come you could get close to his help, but you were surprised by the sudden exaltation of one girl out of the other 3 in the group.

“Girl, don't go see Dr. Bang, he's mine” you remembered that time your classmate started joking. The others laughed however you found it strange.

“I'm not kidding, I'll finish med school and marry him,” the girl continued.

Another of your girl classmates replied, “Good luck with that. I don't think he would settle for just a girl finishing med school… I mean he has been working here for a while and he's never been known to have a single affair with a student or a recent graduate, you don't even know for sure if he has a wife or kids, he's very private. But I do hear he's important in every job he has.”

“For him I'll find the damn cure for cancer if that's what he wants…wait, when is he going to be our professor?”

“Mmm, I guess until senior…”

“I can't wait” replied the girl excitedly for Bang.

“I honestly don't think you'll make it until senior” added another girl there amused.

One guy rolled his eyes as he overheard the conversation and called for your attention to forget the little twisted comments, “He's really nice, you can go with him anytime, but… to have recurring sessions with him, I think you need to validate that you're really fucked up, since he has a pretty busy schedule.” You nodded, paying attention to him.

“Next week I'll prove I'm a psycho to see him all the time” the girl joked again.

That afternoon the other guys simply laughed, but in you a seed of curiosity had been planted and…. you didn't want to be rude, but their study group was not helpful to you and was not bearing fruit at all, so the next day you went to the mental health department of your university and requested meetings with Dr. Bang, while presenting your long history of appointments with your therapist and your difficulty with learning, so initially the manager suggested you go directly to a female counselor, to make you feel more comfortable... so you didn't have the slightest problem, however he mentioned that he would tell Dr. Bang, as he cleared each of his students beforehand and on Monday you received an email confirming your schedule with Bang on Wednesday afternoons.

And since then your adventure began in late February two years ago. It wasn't until you finally got in and met him that you understood all of your classmate's comments, he was an incredibly attractive and intelligent man. Bang was about to quit after considering working long enough as a counselor, he wanted to focus on less work and prioritize the ones he considered more important… as well as organize and relocate his social life, he wanted to focus on making a life, meeting a woman to marry since his last relationship lasted but was unsuccessful, one of the few things Bang was unsuccessful at was love, Bang was beginning to give up on the search for a relationship, and even considered devoting himself completely to his work and studying another specialty. To cope with the loneliness he used to have casual sex with naïve, young, pretty nurses that made them lose their sanity, but he never took anything seriously, until he met you. You made him stay and he didn't want to admit it, until recently.

Bang saw you, so helpless and vulnerable… and he found something in you that he had never felt before. He saw himself in you, an overachiever. Bang in his early days also had his problems that had caused him to lose focus on what he fought so hard to achieve. Listen to your story was like listening himself.

And so two years went by, he taught you absolutely everything he knew, having study sessions which motivated you and your meetings were reflected in your good grades… however, Bang's admirers found it a little strange that after so long he never officially discharged you, so they began to speculate small rumors that did not pass away from your classmates, but he couldn't, you both enjoyed each other's company so much. So just at the beginning of the year, he decided to move your typical Wednesdays to Fridays, when he usually did not attend the university, but he did it exclusively for you, plus being almost the weekend, students did not resort so much to the study hall, making your visits more discreet.

After so long, the two of you created a purely professional union… until recently, last year before your winter break, when the little flirtations finally began, the complicit glances, the double entendre comments, the slight friction when sitting so close to each other and… for the first time, this year, his touch towards you. He was always there, a year after your meetings you confessed to him your deepest sadness and the reason why your mental health and ability to concentrate were affected, to which he saw you as he had never seen you before, so bad and down, so that every anniversary of your father's death you made a small comment which Bang immediately comforted you and made you feel good, until a little over a month ago, you were more than sad, you were stressed in some way, you lived with the burden of knowing that your mother was sad and lonely, you wanted to focus completely on the university and you still had the pain of the departure of that someone, so Bang slowly persuaded you to tell him exactly how you felt and… slowly and gently he began to massage your shoulders, an act that surprised you but helped too much, you hadn't had contact or that kind of attention in years as you were too busy at school and suddenly the pressure of his fingers on your tense muscles felt so good; after massaging you, he said a little awkward and with a nervous chuckle if that was okay with you, so you couldn't agree more. And his massages continued, but the next time you felt it differently, maybe because you were ovulating and you really liked Dr. Bang, but from then on you left his office feeling aroused.

With him everything was easier for you, you felt that it was unfair to others, but you were still incredibly lucky to have him, every week he would sit with you and help you study every single complicated topics of extremely important subjects, he was your individual tutor, you admired him more and more, he was a know-it-all. Then you got to know more about his personality a little bit… he was quite kind and tender, a little bit strange, nervous and rambled too much with what he wanted to say but, he helped you so much that now you stood out among the whole student body and you even felt that you changed your habits, suddenly you were more tidy and… you would occasionally listen to his favorite music to feel close to him, even though you weren't, when you left that office you didn't see him again until your next session, you rarely saw him walking around the campus, but, it was enough time together that, you got to know each other so well as you slowly let out slight details about yourselves.

You didn't know if he would be there, you had no fixed thing to communicate on other than e-mail and it wasn't something that young people your age regularly use as a purpose of communication… you just waited for him to open the door, you were hesitant to knock… you had both said goodbye last time with a “see you next week” but you had completely forgotten that it would be the last day of school. The study room was a mess, more students celebrating and behaving childishly while you stood outside of your mature counselor's door, wanting to see him one last time before you went home, you knew Bang wouldn't be able to try anything with you so you don't want to waste energy trying to flirt but… seeing him was enough for you, living in the delusion of a life together kept you a little human and not just an academic machine.

You knocked on his door softly, with the same pattern of knocks you unconsciously put together over the years, two knocks, one second and the third knock. Your hopes didn't even manage to dampen, as he opened the door immediately and your nerves escalated out of all proportion. He smiled at you as he saw you, forming two soft dimples below his mouth, there you were, in front of him waiting for your session with him. You looked up to get a better look at him, Dr. Christopher Bang, looking so breathtaking and masculine, you wanted to let out a sigh but didn't let yourself do it. Bang stepped aside to let you pass and closed the door behind you.

You observed the place, his office decorated in gothic architecture just like the rest of the university, full of wood and bookshelves and, in his chair behind his desk, you noticed his medical gown overlapping on the back of it, you assumed he must have come from the hospital, Chris was wearing dark cloth pants, perfectly ironed white button down shirt, tight to his muscular body and a thin black tie. Just when you couldn't find him more attractive, it was only enough for you to turn to see him again, to make your heart race and your breathing become heavy, sometimes you wondered if for him it was visible the effects he had on you, after all he was the studied doctor.

“Welcome” he said softly.

You walked into the small living room area in his office, into his leather couches, the light was very bright from his large window behind his desk and in front of his living room.

“Hi” you replied, smiling lively.

Chris placed his hands behind his back and walked over to you.

“I thought you weren't coming today, weren't you supposed to be at some party celebrating your last day of school?” he teased you a little.

He always joked that you weren't the party type of girl, you liked to get drunk once in a while but a party full of sweaty college kids wasn't a fun or hygienic option for you, Chris found it adorable.

You let out a giggle and turned your whole body to face him.

“I couldn't miss my last session with you, Dr. Bang” you commented seductively to which Chris swallowed nervously, he was so turned on when you suddenly got that way but as an adult, he had to concentrate.

But even pretending to be flirtatious you couldn't hide your slight grimace at being stressed, your head hurt a little, and uselessly you thought that being with Chris would take the pain away eventually. He knew you so well that, his slight nervousness at being excited changed in a second to concern.

“Everything okay?” he changed his tone and softened the movement of his eyebrows.

You opened your eyes in surprise as he recognized something happening and sketched a smile. You sighed and walked a few steps to the elongated couch and plopped down.

“Yeah… just… same old same old, I'm worried about my grades” you replied worriedly.

Chris let out a chuckle, he couldn't believe the obsessive little monster he had turned you into, you were twenty one years old and you should be worrying about more banal things like… the launching of some celebrity's new makeup line, since makeup was one of the things you were interested in besides being the best.

“You'll do fine” he spoke sweetly to you. Chris was about to approach you but had another idea, heading to his little liquor area. “Well… if you won't go party with guys your own age, then I'll party with you, here's to another successful semester” you heard him say behind you followed by a sound of glass clinking softly.

You turned your body to see him pouring alcohol into two glasses. Your nerves escalated further, it was the first time you would have that kind of activity.

“What is it?” you asked curiously as you watched him attractively approach you with the two glasses ready.

Chris smiled sideways in amusement and sat down next to you, handing you your glass.

“Whiskey, but drink it slow, sweetie.”

You blushed immediately upon hearing him call you that, he gently raised his glass in toast and you clinked your glass with his. Chris didn't drink from his drink until you did, which surprised you. He watched you intently as you brought the glass to your mouth.

“Like this, slowly, and then quickly…” he said in concentration.

You watched him as you did it and found it so appealing, however you closed your eyes tightly grimacing in disgust as you felt the alcohol burn your throat, which distracted you completely. He let out a chuckle as he saw your expression and quickly drank his without difficulty, just a slightly grimacing with his mouth.

“It's a bit strong for many people” Chris added.

“It was for me” you replied pushing the glass away and setting it down on the small table in front of you.

“Are you stressed?” he said suddenly, trying to make conversation.

You nodded softly, running your tongue around your mouth trying to forget the taste of alcohol.

“You know I am… I'm really nervous about the grades, I think they'll be posted tomorrow.”

“Will you be here in the city for tomorrow?” he asked to which you softly shook your head, Chris didn't like that, he could see you every day… but you were a student and practically his patient, it was completely unethical. “And what will you do once you're back in your hometown?”

You smiled at him.

“I don't know, it'll be boring, I'll look for a job, I'll try to be useful.”

Chris looked you straight in the eye and blurted out without thinking.

“My consulting room needs a receptionist… I mean, it's a job and…. you can keep learning.”

He lied, but he could fire his receptionist without thinking if you took him up on the offer. You looked at him puzzled more however you didn't remark your expression so well.

“Dr. Bang… Sorry, I don't have anywhere to stay in the city” you confessed apologetically, not knowing what to say.

Bang lowered his gaze to the glass and his long fingers intertwined in it, he was dying to tell you that that wasn't a problem, you could stay with him as long as you wanted… but once again he had to set limits.

“Yeah, yeah, I know, sorry. Still the offer is well standing.”

“Thank you.”

“Feeling a little more relaxed already?” he asked again, you nodded. “You know… I still remember my last day of the semester when I was twenty-one, there was this party at Delta Psi fraternity… it was a little… weird, I hope things have changed now” he counted animatedly.

You frowned, ready to hear more of his anecdote and founding sweet that he wanted to distract you, but a loud knock on his door followed by noise from outside startled you. Chris sighed in annoyance.

“Will you excuse me?” he stood up, holding his tie and headed for his door.

You stirred in your seat, he looked so fine pissed off and backwards as he walked to the door. Once again you were beginning to tense up, but this time from sexual frustration.

“Can you please stop making noise? You are in college, behave accordingly, or go outside and make noise you want” exclaimed Chris, scolding those outside, he turned to you “Sorry… the noise.”

Chris locked the door as a reflex and sat down again next to you, this time closer to you, you were about to ask him and tell him to resume his anecdote, but you lost yourself in the closeness of his face, and you analyzed the harmony of it, his dark hair, his straight eyebrows, sharp and small eyes, his prominent and attractive nose in combination with his full pink lips; you tensed again and your heart beat got stronger. Chris admired you too, from your perfectly detailed face with makeup, even the nice outfit you were wearing, Bang licked his lips… feeling the tension and a myriad of dirty thoughts crossing his mind and everything he would do to you, if only he would put his morals aside. Chris recalled his vivid memories of being twenty-one… the gentleness and sweetness that girls that age tasted… Chris closed his eyes and gently turned his head away from you, trying to clear each of those thoughts. Of the anatomy of your pussy prostrate on his cock, of you in genupectoral position with the vulnerability of your ass and needy pussy at his mercy.

Fuck, Chris thought, for the first time in all your encounters -and in his entire career- he was getting hard, they were just innocent little flirtations… but just not today, today his body was betraying him as it never had before. Chris cleared his throat and reacted in seconds, he didn't want you to suspect something was wrong so… just this time he decided to put his morals aside and pay attention to his human needs and carnal desires. He was going to fuck you so good that would make you get a fucking apartment just to do it with him every day.

“I'm glad you're okay but…” he said slowly sitting back up and bringing his hands to your weak shoulders, “I still feel you a little tense.”

You almost sighed at his sudden touch, but it was true, your muscles were stiff from being so excited and unable to do anything; Chris wasn't an idiot, this was just a excuse to touch you but he got a big surprise to really find you stressed. But for you more than stress it was frustration.

Chris kept squeezing your muscles until he squeezed a little too hard, causing you to moan; that was it, that alone was enough for Chris to fully sexually arouse him, he was hard and, if it wasn't because you were so focused on yourself not to screw up and not look like a horny mess, you would notice that Bang was in the same situation as you.

“You're so stressed, honey, look at you” he spoke in a thick voice of which surprised you.

You had your eyes closed in embarrassment and it occurred to you to open them as you heard him a little different… concentrating to Chris looking at you with dark eyes of pure desire, weakening your body more in seconds, you saw his strong arms near your shoulders and…. unconsciously you looked down, finally discovering his prominent erection that surprised you at how big it looked. He was as aroused as you were.

“Fuck, y/n, you're so tense… I can feel it… all over your body…” he spoke again excitedly, making your attention focus on him.

You saw him bite his lip and started to lower his hands squeezing your arms.

“Are you stressed, sweetie?” he asked again, until his hands reached your thighs squeezing them.

“Yes” you moaned.

“You’re so tense, I can feel it… more in this place” Bang said squeezing your thigh and directing his fingers to your already wet pussy, “Let me make you feel good, babygirl” he moaned.

Your body jolted as you felt his hands gently spread your legs apart and brush his fingertips across your panties. You couldn't process that he had finally decided to cross that line, but it felt so good. You always wore only underwear under your skirt on purpose for Dr. Bang.

“Relax, relax, make yourself comfortable, babygirl” he spoke softly in his therapist voice combined with desire, making you lean your back against the back of the couch, “Spread your legs, let me make you feel good, are you okay with that?” he raised his eyebrows waiting for an answer.

“Y-yes” you gasped again.

Bang smiled sideways and quickly got down on his knees between your legs, he gently lifted your skirt and admired the fabric of your wet underwear from the situation.

“I'm going to take all the stress off you, okay babygirl?”

You nodded, completely blinded by desire as you watched your chest rise and fall heavily. Chris began to stroke your clitoris over the thin white fabric of your underwear, making you explode in pleasure with his fine touch, he squeezed your entrance and labia, gently stimulating them. You bit your lip trying not to gasp loudly, finally he pulled the fabric aside and looked with estimation at your entrance lubricating itself, so helpless and needy as he opened your folds, making you let out a high pitched whimper.

Chis licked his lips again hungrily, he had never seen another pussy as appetizing and juicy as yours, he was dying to taste it but wanted to focus on your pleasure. He slid down your panties, leaving you bare of your bottom part and you gasped as you felt the cool air brush against your throbbing, exposed pussy.

“Let me make you feel good” he repeated, stroking the length of your folds and labia, “Feels good?”

You nodded again with difficulty, you were beginning to tremble with overstimulation, Bang began stroking your clitoris again, leading to your body, satisfaction and little twitches. You saw his hand play with your pussy from your angle and how he smiled with satisfaction, the sensations were getting stronger and newer for you that you were feeling desperate and so good at the same time.

“Just relax your body, let yourself go, babygirl” he whispered in a low, lustful voice. “I'm going to stick two fingers in you, okay?”

“Yes” you said again this time more yielding, trying to relax your stiff body a bit more, at the same time struggling to keep your legs open as you had no fixed support to leave them on.

Chris again pulled your folds apart to get a better view of your soaking wet little entrance, making you shudder, he gently brushed your entrance and watched your every reaction, so excited and fighting your instincts, then he realized that seeing your pussy was not enough, he wanted to see all of you and touch every corner of your body. Chris stopped touching your pussy for a moment to which you felt as if something was missing. You saw him, his gaze conveyed desire, yet he didn't leave his gentle and sweet countenance.

“But first, babygirl, let your whole body calm down, go on, undress for me.”

You slowly sat up and toke off your blouse as you stared at him while he looked at you expectantly.

“That's it, good girl, undress. I'll do the same, alright?” you bit your lip and heat came to your ears and stomach as you heard him tell you good girl, unsure what he meant after that, you finally took off your bra as well.

Dr. Bang bit his lips at the sight of your bare chest and admired the shape of your tits with nerve and desire, you smiled slightly in satisfaction knowing you had him so turned on too and understood everything when you watched his hand go to his belt, all your attention focused on his deft long fingers unbuckling his belt and then opening the button of his pants, slowly sliding the zipper all the way down, and finding with his tight black boxer and his protruding hard bulge with little drops of precum, suddenly your mouth felt so lonely, you wanted to make him feel good too but didn't know how to say such boldness and, as anxiety consumed you, he finally pulled down his underwear relieving of his big wiggling and growing cock all by itself. You had never felt so eager for a cock this much in your life, you wanted to taste the softness of his red swollen tip coated in his precum and feel every pumping vein of his length. You thought his cock was so attractive and clean looking, just like the bearer of it.

Chris gasped at finally having his cock free, yet he would feel freedom and at the same time captivity when his member is buried deep inside you making you feel good. Only then would he be free, when your muscles completely relax and you overflow your sweet orgasm on him. He smiled mischievously as he saw you not taking your eyes off his cock, Bang knew clearly that he was well endowed and could hurt your tight sensitive hole if he didn't do it carefully, after all he knew perfectly well the anatomy of both sexes and knew the sensations of a big intruder inside a woman's vagina. Chris didn't want to take you and fuck you wildly, his whole life and career was based on discipline and dedication, so he wanted you to enjoy every second of what the sexual act entailed, besides he loved to help you in every possible way, you were always very well behaved with him, you innocently followed his little flirting game but never dared to throw yourself on him, he had to reward you somehow for your good behavior.

Bang came up to your face and looked tenderly into your eyes.

“Can I kiss you?” he asked softly and gently.

You looked into his eyes and then at his full lips in a second and, without even answering him, you joined your lips with his; you found it incredibly tender and ironic how he could ask you such a thing when he had literally seen and touched your pussy just a few minutes ago, plus you looked so docile and submissive, it was clear that you were willing to whatever he wanted to do with you right now, you were so vulnerable. Chris took your face with his left hand which was slightly clean of your fluids, trying not to let his fingers fall completely on your face and gently pulled you away from his lips for your impulsive action, he gave you small sweet sounding kisses, feeling every particle of your organ, enjoying every second as he always dreamed of feeling them and then he kissed you passionately, so intense and united that you felt the pressure of his nose on your face, and made you open your mouth wider to boldly explore your cavity, and feeling your tongue, managing to elicit from both of you heavier gasps and breaths. With his right hand he caressed your neck a little and moved it down to your breasts and nipples, you were so excited and sensitive that you were afraid of cumming at any moment. His nimble hand continued down to caress your pussy again, this time making you moan between the intimate act you were both sharing and leaving you breathless, so he pulled away from you, now moving his mouth caresses down your neck to your sensitive tits, kissing, licking and sucking them delicately while his left hand was in charge of feeling the other one. His hot kisses moved down with his hand, as he kissed your abdomen, his hand squeezed your waist and his grip stopped at your left thigh, until his lips reached your mons pubis where he finally pulled away from you a little after kissing you gently.

Chris happily watched your expression of pleasure, your eyebrows down and your slightly open mouth; his thumb took care of stimulating the sensitive spot of your clitoris as he gently rubbed, once again, along your labia and without warning and with agility, he inserted two of his long digits that you had previously allowed, into your tight entrance, to which you whimpered in shock and pleasure.

Chris could take no more, his cock throbbed more and more with increasing intensity, but he had to hold out a little longer, as he knew that female pleasure could last longer and had to be carefully worked into it. He skillfully fucked your insides, exploring and feeling his fingers slide into the softness of your walls as you gasped with pleasure, harder and harder.

“Shhh, just keep a little quiet, okay, babygirl? I won't stop and I'll keep making you feel good until you cum” he whispered to you.

You pressed your lips together and bit them hard, just emitting gasps full of air coming from the strength in your chest. He was right, you had forgotten all about it once he started touching you, there were people outside his office… and a large window next to you, yet you were on a second floor and between his large desk obstructing the view, you couldn't see clearly.

Chris continued to turn you on and take such good care of your pussy while his fingers were in you; you felt on cloud nine but every now and then you thought if he would let you taste his cock or if you would feel it inside you today, you needed him so bad, your pussy throbbed just thinking about it.

“One more finger, okay?” gasped Chris inserting his ring finger before you could even answer him.

You whimpered again trembling a little in pain, you wanted him to fuck you all at once, you felt incredibly tense and excited that you were no longer thinking straight, but Chris just wanted to get you ready before he was inside you.

“Fuck my fingers, babygirl, c'mon, move on them” he groaned, looking at his fingers stuck in your pussy, then looking at you while you felt his hot breath near your cunt.

You brought your left hand near your mouth trying not to moan so loudly and started to move your hips enjoying his fingers inside you.

“Fuck” you whispered excitedly feeling his bony fingers moving and touching your internal organ.

“Good girl, you're doing it so good, fucking my fingers so well, you're such a good girl, are you enjoying it, sweetie?”

You gasped in response unable to formulate words. Chris smiled proudly, bit his lower lip and inhaled air between his teeth watching the obscenity of his hand at your entrance and your sweet fluids escaping.

“Fuck, you're so fucking wet, look at you. I'm gonna make you feel so good babygirl, I'm gonna taste you” he warned you almost in a whimper.

With his free hand he positioned your tired legs on his broad strong shoulders, bringing his face close to your pussy and, leaning a little closer, he pulled out his thick hot tongue running it all over your wet vulva making you explode, closer and closer to your orgasm. Chris gently sucked on your labia and withdrew his fingers from your entrance splashing some of your liquid on his chin.

“Mmm you taste so fucking good, babygirl, what the fuck, so good” he whispered.

Suddenly Chris found himself lost deep in your pussy, he was so loaded of you and he was enjoying it too much, giving you off little vibrations as he tasted you with his hot 'mmh', making your legs tremble, you were so close to orgasm finally. He continued, placing little kisses on your clit and with the tip of his tongue stimulating you quickly in a series of motions, you were so desperate you didn't know where to rest your hands calmly, so you directed your right hand to his head, stroking his hair for the first time. Chris caught your gaze instantly as he felt your hand in his hair and he stared at you as he tasted your clitoris and with one finger gently penetrated your entrance.

You broke eye contact with him as you again felt his tongue and lips run down the length of your folds, you closed your eyes in pleasure and shook your head ready for your orgasm that was slowly contracting in your body. Bang continued, never leaving your sensitive spot once he withdrew his tongue of it, his fingers now caressing it as he was lost in the glorious slurping sound of his mouth in your pussy, until he reached your entrance, parting your folds for better access of his tongue, making you scream, he was eating you out so well you wanted to cry.

You couldn't hold it in any longer and finally released all the tension, climaxing in his mouth as you held back your gasp biting down hard on your lip. Chris pulled away and watched in detail your glistening fluids slide out and your hole throb, he smiled and took it upon himself to clean you, running his tongue one last time before standing up. Cleaning himself around his mouth too, licking his lips.

“I'm gonna fuck you, now, alright?” he moaned, his cock was still hard and needy and his precum droplets ached to come out as he was holding back his orgasm.

You saw his sex, so foreplayed and red; you began to get excited and lubricated yourself again by the obscenity of his cock. Chris accommodated your body, putting your head on the couch cushion and doing his best to make you very comfortable and positioned his body over you, he spread your legs a little more and you saw his tender but intimidating expression of concentration as he inserted his cock into your hole. Bang was a doctor with a specialty, he knew fucking well he was about to have unprotected sex, but he was so lost between desire that, feeling your insides with his fingers and tongue was not enough, his sensitive and swollen cock had to feel it on its own to check how good you feel, thus bare, he wanted all his discharge in you, your vagina unrecognizing his sperm and, he seeing it struggling to squirt the unknown cum, he wanted to fill you completely for being so good with him and studying so hard, you deserved it, finally a great break. And you, always so dedicated, were more than willing to feel Dr. Bang's raw cock inside you.

You gasped and shuddered as you felt his cock enter you, Bang gasped at the sensation of your hole slowly opening to make way for his cock, it was huge, you knew it and you were feeling it, but you still wanted every inch of him in you. Chris had inserted half of his hard limb and you were already gasping with pain and pleasure.

“God, you're so tight, so fucking tight, I want to fuck your pussy so bad” Chirs spluttered panting and excited, bringing out the vein in his neck and forehead.

And slowly, he entered into you fully until you felt his balls gently rubbing against your pussy, you let out a stifled little whimper, even inside you, you could feel his large size and you noticed him bulging in a soft lump in your belly. Chris began to slowly penetrate you, his whole cock inside you, thrusting his hips; you whimpered at the sensation and held yourself entwining your arms around his back still wearing his shirt, feeling the tingle of his tie as it fell and brushed against your chest. He moved his body closer, brought your foreheads together for a moment, staring at you as he kept ramming your pussy hard and sweetly kissed your lips, pulled away from you and positioned his head in the hollow of your neck, feeling and hearing his hot, light moans, turning you on more and, when you thought you were completely sexually satisfied, you felt his hand caress your clit, causing you to reflexively close your legs, squeezing his broad lower torso. Your pussy was so sensitive to every movement and stroke of Chris's cock, you felt his thrusts change a little as you were mindful of the sensation of his cock sliding through your core, you sighed, you were so stressed that you couldn't moan so loudly at the feel of his big dick. The sound of both wet sexes colliding was so obscene, both of you completely devoted to each other.

“You feel so good, fuck, y/n. Moan for me softly.”

Chris loved the feeling of your tight walls squeezing his cock, and your small orifice dilating adapting to his size, after minutes of the incredible sensation, Chris could feel your second climax close; but only this time he would 'punish' you, as he also fantasized about you fucking him yourself, he wanted to see you so overwhelmed jumping on his cock; so he suddenly pulled out of you causing a small mess of your fluids.

“I want you to fuck me babygirl, sit on my cock please” he asked you demanding but soft.

You bit your bottom lip as you watched Chris sit up, you stood up and, quickly Bang found the zipper of your skirt, unzipping it and making it fall gracefully, finally leaving you naked, which made him lick his lips lusting after you; you spread your legs and positioned yourself over his lap, you took his wide hard cock with your left hand to guide it to your entrance as you held onto his shoulder. Chris smiled admiring your flushed cheeks and your face of concentration, until you both gasped once feeling joined; first you slid his glans and then you let yourself fall completely on his cock, squeezing down to your cervix, you were one hundred percent sure that your poor vaginal canal was no match for Chris's cock length, who you looked at and also had a moaning expression on him, you admired again his closeness, every small and almost non-existent pore of his well-kept face and the roughness and manliness of the texture of his neck, you also wished to see him completely naked so you awkwardly played with his tie trying to take it off.

“Do you want to unbutton my shirt, sweetheart?” he said tenderly noticing your actions.

You nodded encouragingly, “Yes, Dr. Bang.”

Chris was turned on by you speaking to him formally, making his cock throb more of which you resented inside and let out a moan. He loosened his tie, tossed it aside and helped you unbutton his shirt faster, exposing his muscular, hard-working body.

“Move for me, ahh, that's right, good girl.”

You began to stir yourself on his cock, moving with it all the way to his testicles sweetly squeezed by your weight, as you held onto his marked pecs and gradually lifted your body to keep a rhythm to the frantic bouncing on his cock. You eagerly and between gasps felt his cock rise and fall up and down the tract inside you, trying to take it all, making you sweat a little from your exertion. Chris squeezed your waist tightly, helping to propel you forward.

“Oh that's it, fuck me, you're doing excellent, good girl, fuck, taking so well my cock” he whimpered as his eyes were fixed on your tits moving and his cock burying into your tight pussy.

His words turned you on more and encouraging you to keep going. Accelerating your squats more and more, causing Chris to widen his eyes in surprise, increasing the intensity of his heartbeat and suffocating his cock more.

“Fu-fuck, I-i'm gonna cum inside of you, I'm gonna fill your pussy like the good girl you are.”

Chris let go himself completely, he had held back his orgasm long enough so followed by shuddering whimpers, he ejaculated inside you, feeling his warm shot of cum; you were so close too, which he could predict so he continued to praise you softly.

“Keep it up, beautiful, cum on my cock, come on, you can do it.”

You buried your nails a little into his chest and cum, spilling your second orgasm down the length of his cock, making both of you a mess, your combined fluids slipping and sliding down his balls and lightly onto his thighs. You both tried to catch your breath. Chris remained holding you tightly around your waist so that you stayed right there and so on top of him, he didn't want to give up the feel of your core in him, he wanted a little of cockwarming in you.

“Wow… that” Chris tried to say, slowly coming back to his senses, realizing he had finally fucked you, reality suddenly hit him, you were still sitting on his cock and over his lap with your cheeks red and your babyhair slightly tousled and glistening in a minimal layer of sweat from your exertion, he let out his typical nervous chuckle, “…that was wonderful. You know… anytime you need help relaxing, we can do it whenever you want. Maybe next time you can do all the noise you want.”

You stared into his eyes perplexed that he had just implied that from now on, you could fuck anytime you wanted.

“But you'll leave tomorrow, right?” he spoke again.

You nodded disappointed, he was right, you had to go back to your hometown tomorrow; you sighed and hugged him gently, leaning your head on his shoulder, tired and breathing in his scent, thinking you didn't want to leave him, your summer would be boring anyway, you needed him, the feeling of his cock inside you, filling you up felt so good, you were going to miss him. You've never had your stress taken away like that before.

----

dividers by chilumitos ପ(๑•ᴗ•๑)ଓ ♡

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majinael · 1 month ago

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Kaiser, how we know him in the manga, absolutely does not know how to love and would never end up in a relationship or at least, a healthy one, so, I'll write here one of my most important works (that I'll probably refer to in a lot of my future writings), helping you guys understanding what I think is the most realistic way he could love anyone.

★TW : mentions of mental abuse, depression.

★1k words

✾ You absolutely fell in love first and stayed even after seeing him fail and witnessing the worst sides of him with your own eyes.

✾ Kaiser would eventually notice something special in you, something he didn’t see at first. As time passed, he couldn’t help being drawn to you because you saw through his facade—the ego, the arrogance—and treated him with both blunt honesty and quiet compassion.

✾ He desired you, though not in a romantic way at first. To him, you were someone he needed around, someone he didn’t want anyone else to have, almost as if you were an object to be kept.

✾ One day, you found enough courage to confess your feelings to him. To Kaiser, it was an opportunity to keep you tethered to him, to have control over you. He accepted, assuming you were the type to be so stupidly in love that you’d let anything slide—and you did.

✾ Even then, he tried to “love” you, though selfishly. He didn’t want you to leave, even if he didn’t truly know how to put you first or care for you in a way that wasn’t about his own gratification.

✾ You stayed because you saw glimpses of the person he could be, because you believed he deserved to be loved, and because you were far too attached to walk away.

✾ Over the years, however, the emotional weight of loving someone so broken—someone who was unwilling to change no matter how many arguments or breaks you endured—began to take its toll. His jealousy, his possessiveness, and his inability to communicate left you exhausted.

✾ “Why do you always forgive me, even when I don’t deserve it?” he asked one night, his frustration laced with disbelief. He thought you might have finally given up on him. You just smiled sadly and replied, “Because someone has to.”

✾ Eventually, your love alone wasn’t enough to hold you together. You left—not out of anger, but out of self-preservation. You were on the brink of losing yourself entirely.

✾ At first, Kaiser wasn’t overly concerned and was mostly in denial. He convinced himself you’d come back, just as you always had. When hours turned into days, he believed you felt the same need for him as he did for you. But as the days turned into weeks, the silence began to gnaw at him.

✾ He spiraled, masking his pain with his usual bravado—if not more exaggerated than ever. Yet when he was alone, he was consumed by thoughts of you being with someone else. The idea drove him mad, and for the first time, he felt true, raw heartbreak. He realized your leaving wasn’t an act of abandonment but a final act of love—giving him what he thought he wanted most from you towards the end: freedom.

✾ Kaiser wasn’t used to losing or feeling such despair paired with a complete loss of control. Refusing to accept the end, he did everything in his power to win you back—grand gestures, heartfelt confessions, and promises he’d never made to anyone before.

✾ Of course, you were deeply hurt and hesitant. “Words don’t mean much, Kaiser. You need to show me,” you said firmly.

✾ He offered you everything—luxury, security, anything money could buy—but you demanded something far more valuable: his willingness to change.

✾ One of your conditions for reconciliation was therapy, something Kaiser initially scoffed at. “You think talking to some stranger is going to fix me?” he said, incredulous, thinking he knew everything about psychology already.

✾ But he agreed, not just out of desperation but also because when he saw your tearful, pleading eyes filled with hope that this time it could change, he couldn’t refuse. For the first time, he understood that this was something he had to do—not even for you, but for himself.

✾ The sessions were slow and grueling, forcing him to confront parts of himself he’d buried for years—his insecurities, his fears, and his warped view of love.

✾ Over time, after almost two years, he began to heal. He learned to express his feelings in healthier ways, to apologize without deflecting, and to listen instead of always trying to be right. Winning you back wasn’t a quick process. It took years of effort, of proving he had changed—not just for you, but for himself.

✾ During this time, you were together but not entirely as close as most couples might be. You still needed proof that he had truly changed, even though you frequently told him, “I’m proud of you.”

✾ When you finally accepted him again, it was under the condition that he continued to grow. This time, he was willing to meet you halfway and love you in a way that didn’t destroy you. “You stayed when I didn’t deserve it,” he said one night. “Now it’s my turn to stay, no matter how long it takes to make things right.”

✾ You were the first person—the only person—who cared for him so deeply, who showed him what selfless, innocent, and unconditional love looked like.

✾ And, in turn, Kaiser became someone capable of deep, selfless love himself. He cherished you not as a possession but as an equal partner.

✾ The scars of your past together never fully faded, but they served as reminders of how far you had come. “You taught me how to love,” he told you one day, his voice softer than you’d ever heard it. “And I’ll spend the rest of my life proving I deserve it.”

✾ For the first time, he said the words he never thought he could mean, the words he never expected to truly feel: “I love you.”

MK:"Someone beautiful, smart, and full of love."

#michael kaiser #blue lock #michael kaiser x you #michael kaiser x reader #blue lock x you #blue lock x reader #bllk kaiser #bllk x reader #gender neutral reader #michael kaiser angst #blue lock angst

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beforetimes · 2 months ago

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planning a modern/fame timebomb au in my head where jinx is a celebrity recovering from addiction after a public meltdown who's lost contact with most of the people she knew when pre-breakdown/pre-fame. and in completing her recovery program she reaches out to ekko to offer a direct apology for anything she might have said/might have happened in the depths of her addiction, but doesn't hear back from him.

following this she decides to go out and sign up for a program to help at-risk kids like herself—after reflecting in therapy and realizing that a lot of the issues that lead to her being in such a volatile state of mind was because of the lack of support she had in childhood when dealing with losing her family [haven't planned what would work as a stand-in for the powder factory explosion so lets skirt past that for now] she decides that she wants to be that support for other people that she didn't have herself, after spending about a year trying to get better.

basically, she signs up as a volunteer to this big brother/sister-esque outreach program after a few months of anonymously donating to see if she can help someone in person rather than continuing to isolate herself. which is where she meets isha, who immediately imprints on jinx and insists on following her around. and jinx, who is unused to being at the centre of someone's attention without larger expectations that come with her status as a celebrity attached as caveat, starts relaxing by the very nature of her interactions with isha not being as loaded as others. like, this is just a kid! she doesn't know about jinx's issues or how she freaked out and lost it on stage/on a set/made headlines before disappearing from the public eye and ending up here. all isha sees is someone with cool blue hair and nails she wants to try her hand at painting.

after a few months of building a rapport with isha through this community mentor program, jinx accidentally bumps into the last person she really expected to see here—ekko.

ekko is also very surprised to see her here, because the last time he saw her, she was freaking out on him because he wouldn't enable her self-destructive behaviour, their final and most explosive fight resulting in their subsequent falling out where jinx threw a lot of shit back in his face and he did the same and they decided not to contact each other. well, besides jinx's attempt at an apology, but he didn't reply to that.

he sees her here and they both freeze because, like? what do you even do in this situation? they haven't seen each other in a few years at this point, maybe two or three at the most. enough time that it feels so entirely awkward to even try to act like nothing happened while also knowing that it would be equally nerve-grating to try and acknowledge the history between them.

of course, this stand-off is interrupted by isha, who sees jinx frozen in the hall and immediately stomps over to drag her away because they had been working on a painting together that she's been waiting to finish all week.

and jinx eventually relaxes because ekko doesn't say anything and neither does she, even though she wants to know what he's doing here in the first place. but the day ends without any further interactions between the two.

eventually, after asking around, jinx learns that ekko was the one who set the program up a few years prior, a tentative friend in the program telling her that the community didn't really have a lot of resources on hand and that a lot of the program was personally financed by ekko and he did a lot of work to try and uplift the people and community without demanding financial support in return, like most state-funded programs tend to do.

jinx is just, like, in awe of the fact that this childhood friend grew up to do something so great before being overwhelmed with guilt over the fact that she had been so wrapped up in her own world that she hadn't even noticed.

of course, this doesn't really change things because they're still not talking to each other, but weeks pass and jinx feels like they've gotten into a steady pattern of avoiding each other.

what she doesn't know is that ekko has been subtly watching in on her and isha's little hang-out sessions and is just in awe that this girl who had only a few years ago been so unsure of herself and in so much pain had managed to heal to the point of being able to help someone else and make a good positive impact on isha's life in a program he created.

so, after a while, jinx gets a reply on that email she had sent him nearly a year ago where ekko just asks if she wants to meet for lunch. which she replies to, after a lot of back-and-forth, by saying yes absolutely.

and then the romance unfolds further from there, yadda yadda yadda. haven't decided how this will ultimately end or where vi will play a part or anyone else but i thought that the bare bones concept i had in mind was worth posting here.

in my head maybe ekko's second, scar would be a friend who had seen the majority of the fallout and would be warning him away in the background while ekko was sort of caught up in being both happy that jinx seemed to be doing better while also conflicted on whether or not he wanted to forgive her because their last fight was like, super nasty. awful stuff said

maybe if anyone has ideas for how vi / cait / anyone else could be worked in, you can leave that below?? none of this is super set in stone! just rambling. ^_^

#arcane #arcane fanfiction #arcane fic #arcane headcanon #arcane au #modern au #famous au #jinx #jinx arcane #ekko #ekko arcane #isha #isha arcane #jinx headcanon #ekko headcanon #timebomb #ekko x jinx #milez writing #timebomb au

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yelenasbraid · 2 months ago

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treat you better — joe burrow

summary — Work is rough. Watching your boyfriend beat himself up over loss after loss is rough. It doesn’t take much for you to break.

warnings — fem!reader, angst, fluff, language, implied/cut-off smut

requested by — anon <3 (IM SO SORRY THIS TOOK ME SO LONG! i didn’t forget about you 🫶🏼)

tags — @wickedfun9 @joeyfranchise @starsinthesky5 @willowsnook @softburrow @joeburrowshaircurl @ebsmind @blairsworld22 @xxvampxhoonxx (comment/send an ask if you want to be added!)

ENDLESS MEETINGS. That’s what work felt like for the past several weeks. Meetings to fix a problem that wasn’t going to get fixed because it was a problem at the head. Meetings to address behaviors that only one person was doing. Meetings that should have been an email. Aside from the meetings, you’re having to deal with men who doubt your abilities as a woman to do your job, which you were hired for. The comments, the stares, everything that these men did to you worked you over. You’ve told them, handed their ass to them, but nothing stopped until your boss got a handle on it.

Then came the projects. The endless hours critiquing and correcting every bit of information that came your way. The hours you spent deconstructing an idea in order for your boss to present it in its entirety.

Today wasn’t much better. You made a mistake and you paid for it, the printers weren’t working, and you had zero down time. You barely had time to check your phone and answer a text from Joe before someone came in and asked your opinion on something. When the end of the day came, you let out a breath. You practically ran to your car, throwing yourself in and locking the doors. No one was going to get any last assignment out of you. No one was going to make one more comment about how the Bengals couldn’t seem to grab a win.

You drove home in silence. Your mind wandered to the conversations you had during the day, the things you did, and the people you spoke to. You were tired of hearing about the losses, the way that “Joe just can’t seem to get a win under his belt” and “it’s like he doesn’t know how to play football.” You wrung the steering wheel, your mind wandering further down a road you knew you shouldn’t be on.

Flashback

“Just leave me alone, y/n!” Joe’s never raised his voice at you. Never in the 3 years you’ve been dating. The loss to the Ravens, the second time, was hitting him harder than you anticipated. Of course, you knew that the losses, how they piled up, they were gnawing at him. They were eating him raw. You could see it in his eyes, in the way his hands shook. He was crumbling under the pressure but didn’t want to admit it.

“I just want you to be ok, Joe. That’s all.” You argued, your tone pleading. He stepped away from you, scoffs puffing from his lips.

“I don’t need you to coddle me. I’m a grown adult, now leave me alone,” He wasn’t asking. The demanding tone he had wasn’t of enjoyment either. You stared at him, your expression as hard as his was. Your nose twitched as you watched him retreat up the stairs to your shared bedroom.

It wouldn’t be shared that night.

End of flashback

Ever since that night, Joe’s been trying to make it up to you. He’s been moody, but he’s not stupid. He’s realized that he made a mistake, that he used his words to tear down instead of lift you up. You could see he was trying, but it didn’t take away the stress of your job or the stress of making sure Joe was ok.

You pulled into the garage, pressing the garage opener in your car to shut the door behind you. You stepped out, your eyes heavy. You didn’t spot Joe’s car, so he must not be home yet. It wasn’t always that you beat Joe home, but the days you did, you made sure that he came home to a warm meal. It was the least you could do, plus, cooking was therapy.

You walked into your home, the coolness of the air wafting over your hot skin. You walked up the stairs and into yours and Joe’s shared bedroom. You changed out of your work clothes and put something comfortable on. Your head was foggy, your eyes out of focus as you slipped one of Joe’s hoodies over your head. You grabbed your phone, walking back downstairs to start dinner.

Dinner tonight would be something easy, something you both liked. You grabbed your ingredients, the exhaustion from the day catching up to you. You opened a cabinet for spices, and ran into the cabinet when you forgot to close it. You opened the fridge to grab some cheese, and you smacked your head off of it trying to close it. You dropped one of the spices and it spilled all over the floor. You ran your hands through your hair as you tried to compose yourself, hot tears pooling in your eyes.

“It’s ok, just get it in the oven,” You sniffled, cleaning up the spilled spices and finishing preparing the meal. The rest of it went smoothly, for the most part. The door opened and shut, signaling that Joe was home. You looked up and smiled softly at him.

“What’s all this?” He asked with a soft smile, dropping his bag and walking further into your home.

“Dinner,” You answered. He could tell something was off. Your eyes were heavy, your shoulders slumped, and your hair was in messy strands around your face. You were exhausted.

“You didn’t have to,” He walked up to you, his expression soft and inviting. He knew he had been a dick, even if you’d tell him it was warranted. He hoped this wasn’t an attempt to ‘get back into his good graces.’ You never had to. It was often the opposite, that he would have to get back into your good graces.

As he walked over to you, you pulled out the glass pan that you were going to put the chicken in. Your hands slipped as you stood up, the pan falling from your fingers and crashing down on the floor. This wasn’t just any pan, this was a pan that Joe’s mom, Robin, bought you. It wasn’t cheap. Your hands covered your face as embarrassment and disappointment settled into your chest. Hot tears stung your eyes, tears uncontrollably rolling down your cheeks. You inhaled shakily as you went to grab a broom.

“No no, hold on, don’t move,” Joe’s hands went out to stop you from moving, his eyes scanning the floor for glass. He didn’t want you to step on any and cut your foot. Your hands covered your mouth, tears welling up in your eyes as Joe grabbed the broom. He swept the broken pieces away, kneeling down to grab the smaller, almost invisible pieces that were around your feet.

“I’m so sorry, I don’t know what’s gotten into me. I know that was expensive and I should have been more careful-”

“Y/n, babe, it’s just a glass pan,” Joe tried to console you, watching how increasingly upset you got. You looked like a little girl, the way your arms were in front of you as if to protect you. You watched him, hot tears rolling down your raw cheeks. It was just a pan, why were you reacting this way?

“What am I supposed to put the chicken in now?” You wiped your tears, bending down to try and find another pan. Joe stepped beside you, placing his hands on your hips and guiding you away from the cabinet.

“Let me help you,”

“No, I was supposed to make this nice dinner for you when you got home. I was supposed to make sure that even if you had a bad practice, you could have something good when you got home,” You reasoned, your tone sharper. Your eyes were still red with tears, but you were serious. Joe could see that. Joe could see that you wanted to do something nice for him, and you felt like you failed. He could see that you felt like you were a problem, and Joe’s heart twisted.

“What happened at work?” Joe hummed, cupping your cheeks with his hands. He knew that the past couple of weeks have been rough, but he didn’t know just how rough they’d been for you. You sniffled, backing away until your hips met the counter.

“All of these projects,” You started, “the comments too, they’re getting to me,”

“What comments?” Joe asked, interest piqued. This was the first time he’s heard of such comments.

“Just…everything, really.” You hugged yourself. You weren’t sure if you wanted to tell him that part of those comments were about the losses the Bengals have recently suffered.

“Lay it out for me,” He encouraged you, settling his hips against the counter opposite of you. He watched you, carefully examining how you shielded yourself. Why? What happened? Who hurt you?

“Some guys just keep pestering me, asking if I really know what I’m doing. They keep talking to me like I’m 5, even if I’ve got a degree in what I’m doing. They keep lying to me to see if I catch on,” You explained, rubbing your temples. There was more, there was always more. Joe listened on, his face tight as his arms crossed over his chest. You’ve had this problem before, and the fact it kept popping up infuriated him.

“I’m sorry, babe,” He hummed softly, letting his expression fall, “You’ve gone through hoops to get that taken care of,” He affirmed. He knew you did. He knew you’d spoken to them, your boss had spoken to them, and it was always the same guys. There was something else, he could see it on your face.

“I have! I just…I’m just happy to be home,”

“They said something else, didn’t they?” He asked you, rather pointedly. You looked at him, and you remembered the nights where his eyes were cold, frozen over with the pain of the loss. He was still recovering from the previous one.

“Joe,”

“What else did they say?” He encouraged, keeping his tone level. He stayed where he was, encouraging you like you did him. Spilling your guts wasn’t the easiest thing to do. You bit your lip, running a hand through your hair. You inhaled deeply before exhaling.

“They kept mentioning the games, specifically the losses,” You started, watching Joe freeze, “Of course I said something, nearly got fired for it, but they know better,” You digressed. Silence hung between you, new feelings stirred up in the both of you. Joe was disappointed, mainly in himself, for not winning more. He was angry that those losses were being used against you, like you could do something about it. You watched him, heart pounding as you analyzed his features.

“I’m sorry, baby,” You whispered, and Joe quickly shook his head, walking up to you.

“Look at me,” Joe hummed, softly cupping your cheeks in his hands. Your cheeks were soft, but they were damp from the flow of tears, “You have nothing to apologize for. You're not the one of us that plays football; they shouldn’t be having issues with you. Don’t ever apologize, I’m sorry this season’s been hard,” He reassured you.

You felt more tears fall, your chest heaving with the attempt to hold back your sobs. You nodded, resting your forehead against his chest. He cupped the back of your head and kissed your hair, letting his lips linger there. He needed to do better, he needed to be better. He needed to stop taking out the losses on you. You were his world, and he felt like he was polluting it.

You pulled away, Joe’s thumbs wiping your tears away and the hair from your eyes.

“The chicken still needs to be cooked, though,” You informed him. Joe laughed, nodding his head. He grabbed a different pan, placing it on the island. He sprayed the pan, then placed the chicken in the pan.

“I hate raw chicken,” He shivered, making you laugh. You grabbed the pan from him and slid in the oven, which had already been preheated. Joe wrapped you in his arms again, giving you the slightest of squeezes.

“I’m sorry that work has been hard,” He hummed, “You don’t deserve that, you never do,” He sighed. Guilt started to eat away at his insides, telling him that he should have picked up on the signs earlier, that he should have said something earlier.

“It’s not your fault, Joey,” You muttered into his chest, pressing your lips to the skin that peaked right out of the collar of his shirt.

“I know, I still feel guilty,” He pulled away, gazing deeply into your eyes, “I should have paid more attention,” he admitted softly. You leaned up and pressed a soft kiss to his lips.

“Hun, you being here helps. Bad days at work shouldn’t completely dictate our moods,” You chuckled, which he laughed along as well.

“I know, and I’ll be better at not letting it ruin my day,” He agreed with his award-winning smile. He leaned down and kissed you again, a deeper hunger to his kiss. You felt it, and you felt your stomach churn with excitement. You smile as he backed your hips into the island, his hands cupping your neck. He pulled away, catching his breath.

“What was that for?” You asked, watching as a new and darker emotion swam in his eyes.

“Repaying you for dinner, and maybe all the shitty things I’ve said,” He hummed as he attached his lips to your neck, immediately making your eyes roll back. Your fingers found his hair, giving it a small tug as his teeth nipped and tugged at your skin. With every building emotion, the fire in your gut, you forgot about the chicken. Then again, that wasn’t what you were concerned with. Your body begged for Joe, and that’s exactly what you were going to get.

#joe burrow #joe burrow x reader #joe burrow imagine #nfl imagine

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maskedbyghost · 3 months ago

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after the divorce, you thought you’d finally drawn a line in the sand, clear and bold, separating yourself from simon riley and everything that came with him. but simon? he wasn’t ready to step back. not fully. at first, it was silence—an absence so heavy, but then, slowly, the messages started.

they weren’t the cryptic, blunt texts you were used to during your relationship. no more “you around?” or “we need to talk.” instead, they carried a rawness that made you hesitate before opening them. one night, your phone lit up: “i’ve been sitting here, going over everything. i keep thinking about how i pushed you away, how i let my own demons ruin what we had. you didn’t deserve that. none of it.”

you read it three times before setting the phone down, heart heavy and conflicted. simon never said things like this when you were together. and yet, here he was, baring himself in a way that felt almost foreign.

then came the gifts. small, thoughtful things that carried weight. one afternoon, a neatly wrapped package appeared at your door. chamomile tea—the good kind, the kind you’d mentioned in passing during one of those rare soft moments between you. you’d joked that his taste in tea was pretentious, and he’d grumbled something about chamomile being “too bloody mild.” now, seeing it in front of you, carefully packed with a handwritten note that simply said “thought you might like this”, you didn’t know whether to laugh or cry.

the late-night call was unexpected. his voice was rough, the way it always got when he’d had a drink, but there was a tremor in it you didn’t recognize. “i’ve started therapy,” he admitted, the words slurred but clear enough. “trying to figure out... what’s wrong in my head. i don’t want to hurt anyone else. especially not you. not ever again.”

your chest tightened at the honesty. simon had always been guarded, his emotions buried so deep even you had trouble finding them. hearing him like this—open, vulnerable—was disarming.

when you finally told him he needed to stop calling you love, his answer was immediate. “can’t do that,” he said, his voice low but steady. “it’s what you are to me. maybe i didn’t show it right before, but it doesn’t change the fact. you’ll always be my love, even if it’s just in my head.”

he wasn’t asking for anything outright, and maybe that’s what made it harder. he wasn’t begging or demanding. he was just there—offering pieces of himself you’d spent years wishing he’d share, now arriving when you weren’t sure you wanted them anymore.

simon had always been a storm, intense and unrelenting. but this? this felt different. he wasn’t trying to sweep you off your feet. he was trying to meet you where you stood, hoping you’d see the man he was trying to become. and maybe—just maybe—give him another chance.

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@daydreamerwoah @spicyspicyliving @blackhawkfanatic

#simon ghost riley x you #simon riley x you #simon ghost riley x reader #simon riley x reader #simon ghost riley x female oc #simon ghost riley #simon ghost x reader #simon riley imagine #simon ghost x you #simon riley

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cyberclouddream · 4 months ago

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Moon Overlays through the Houses

1st House [ Self-Identity ]

Balanced: When their Moon is in your 1st house, it’s like they just get you. You feel comfortable being yourself around them, and they boost your confidence. You can express your feelings without fear, and you both vibe on the same level. It’s a chill relationship where you feel seen and appreciated for who you are.

Unbalanced: But if it’s off, you might feel like they’re always scrutinizing you. It’s like they have a magnifying glass on your emotions, making you feel insecure. Instead of feeling free to be yourself, you might feel judged or smothered. Their mood swings can leave you walking on eggshells, and that’s just exhausting.

2nd House [ Values & Possessions ]

Balanced: With their Moon in your 2nd house, you get a boost in feeling good about your worth and what you own. They support your financial goals and make you appreciate your stuff more. Together, you create a sense of security that feels solid. It’s like you’re both on the same page about what matters, and that’s refreshing.

Unbalanced: But if things go south, it can feel like they’re always critiquing your spending habits or trying to control your values. You’ll feel insecure, like you’re not good enough or constantly comparing yourself to them. It’s draining, and you may end up resenting them for making you feel like your worth hinges on their approval.

3rd House [ Communication & Learning ]

Balanced: Their Moon in your 3rd house makes for some awesome conversations. You’ll feel emotionally supported to share your thoughts, and that leads to deep, meaningful chats. It’s like you both inspire each other to think bigger and learn more. You’ll find it easy to express your feelings, which creates a strong connection.

Unbalanced: On the flip side, if it’s unbalanced, prepare for some drama. They might hog the conversation with their emotional baggage, making every discussion feel like a therapy session. Instead of having fun chats, you’ll feel drained and frustrated because they never let you get a word in. It’s like talking to a wall, and that gets old fast.

4th House [ Home & Family ]

Balanced: When their Moon is in your 4th house, you create a warm, cozy home together. They make you feel safe and comfortable, turning your space into a sanctuary. You’ll likely bond over family stuff and feel supported in exploring your roots. It’s nice to have someone who makes home feel like a place of love.

Unbalanced: But if it’s not balanced, you might feel like their emotional needs are taking over your home life. They could become overly dependent on you, making you feel like you’re their emotional crutch. Instead of a haven, your home can start to feel like a pressure cooker. You’ll feel trapped in a cycle of managing their emotions, and that can be draining.

5th House [ Creativity & Pleasure ]

Balanced: Their Moon in your 5th house brings a fun, playful vibe. You’ll feel inspired to explore your creative side, whether that’s art, hobbies, or romance. They encourage you to enjoy life and embrace your passions. Together, you create joyful moments that make you both feel alive.

Unbalanced: However, if it’s off, their emotional needs might steal the spotlight. They could become clingy or demanding for attention, turning what should be fun into a chore. Instead of enjoying your time together, you’ll feel overwhelmed and suffocated by their demands. It can feel like a drag instead of the carefree connection you want.

6th House [ Work & Health ]

Balanced: When their Moon is in your 6th house, they help you get your life together. You’ll feel motivated to take better care of yourself and create a good work-life balance. Their support helps you tackle responsibilities without feeling overwhelmed. It’s a great partnership for both of you to thrive.

Unbalanced: If the energy is off, it can be a real pain. They might criticize your work habits or health choices, making you feel judged. Instead of feeling supported, you’ll feel pressured to meet their expectations. It’s like they’re constantly watching you, and that can create a lot of unnecessary stress.

7th House [ Partnerships & Marriage ]

Balanced: Their Moon in your 7th house means you’re both emotionally in sync. You feel understood and supported in the relationship. It’s a strong partnership where you both can share your feelings openly and build a solid foundation together. It’s nice to feel that emotional depth and connection.

Unbalanced: But if things get off-balance, it can turn into a mess. They might lean too heavily on you for emotional support, making you feel suffocated. Instead of a partnership, it feels like a tug-of-war where their moods dictate everything. You’ll start to feel drained and resentful, wishing you could just catch a break.

8th House [ Intimacy & Transformation ]

Balanced: Their Moon in your 8th house creates deep emotional intimacy. You’ll feel safe exploring your vulnerabilities together, leading to real growth and healing. This connection encourages you to face fears and share your emotional baggage, making it a transformative experience that brings you closer.

Unbalanced: On the other hand, if the energy is off, it can get intense—like, way too intense. They might project their insecurities onto you, making you feel overwhelmed by their emotional chaos. Instead of a safe space, you’ll feel like you’re drowning in their emotional issues. It can be exhausting and leave you feeling drained.

9th House [ Philosophy & Higher Learning ]

Balanced: With their Moon in your 9th house, you’ll feel inspired to explore new ideas and experiences. They encourage you to think outside the box and dive into deeper conversations about life. It’s a relationship that feels expansive and full of potential for growth, which is exciting.

Unbalanced: However, if it’s not balanced, it can become a real headache. They might get dogmatic about their beliefs, making every discussion feel like a debate. Instead of exploring ideas together, you might feel like you’re constantly defending your views. It can turn into a frustrating back-and-forth instead of an enriching experience.

10th House [ Career & Public Life ]

Balanced: When their Moon is in your 10th house, they’ll be your biggest cheerleader in your career. They support your ambitions and help you feel more confident in pursuing your professional goals. Together, you can tackle challenges and celebrate successes, making your public life feel fulfilling.

Unbalanced: If it goes off the rails, it can be a total mess. They might overshadow your accomplishments or make it all about them, leaving you feeling unappreciated. Instead of feeling supported, you might feel used, as they manipulate situations to benefit themselves. It’s exhausting to feel like you’re always in their shadow.

11th House [ Friendships & Aspirations ]

Balanced: Their Moon in your 11th house means you’ve got a solid friendship vibe. They’re supportive of your dreams and aspirations, making you feel understood in your goals. Together, you inspire each other to reach for more, creating a strong emotional bond that feels uplifting.

Unbalanced: But if things go sideways, their emotional needs can start to overshadow your ambitions. You might feel like you have to cater to their feelings instead of focusing on your own goals. It can get draining, and you may find yourself questioning if this friendship is even worth the emotional labor. It can turn toxic fast.

12th House [ Subconscious & Spirituality ]

Balanced: When their Moon is in your 12th house, you’ll feel a deep, spiritual connection. They help you explore your inner world, and you’ll likely have profound conversations about feelings and dreams. This relationship can feel really special, like you’re both on a higher emotional plane together.

Unbalanced: But if it’s off-balance, watch out. They may project their insecurities onto you, dragging you into their emotional struggles. Instead of a supportive connection, you’ll feel overwhelmed and suffocated by their issues. It can feel like you’re losing yourself in their drama instead of uplifting each other.

#moon through the houses #moon synastry #astrology #astrology observations #astro notes #astro community #astro observations #astrology signs #house overlays #synastry #psychological astrology #astrology houses #astrology blog #astrology tumblr #astronotes #astro placements

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pucksandpower · 4 months ago

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Never? Never.

Day 14 → Innocence Play 💋 Lewis Hamilton

Warnings: 18+ content

Kinktober Masterlist

The office feels charged. There’s a weight in the air, one that sits low on Lewis’ chest as he waits. His arms are crossed, and he leans back slightly in his chair, fingers tapping a slow rhythm on the armrest.

He’s not impatient, exactly. More … curious. A steady line of candidates has been moving in and out all morning, but none of them have made much of an impression.

Then the door opens.

You step in, and for a second, the world seems to shift. Lewis sits up straighter, the tapping on the armrest stops as his hand stills. It’s subtle, but something inside him clicks.

You’re standing there, blinking up at him with wide, innocent eyes, dressed in a way that shouldn’t catch his attention but does. There’s something about you — something that feels out of place, but in a way that demands his attention.

You look young. Too young, maybe. But your resume … he remembers it well. It was strong, impressive even, especially for someone your age.

That’s why you’re here, why you got the interview. But now that he sees you — sees the way your lips press together nervously, the way your hands fidget at your sides — he knows. He’s already decided.

You’re the one.

He clears his throat, motions toward the chair opposite him. “You can sit.”

You hesitate for half a second, then move quickly to take a seat. Your movements are precise but careful, like you’re hyper-aware of the space around you.

“Thank you,” you say softly, your voice almost a whisper. Lewis has to resist the urge to lean in closer, as if proximity could make you louder.

For a moment, there’s silence. It hangs in the air between you, but it isn’t uncomfortable. He watches you, studies the way your fingers lace together in your lap, the way your gaze flickers between him and the floor.

“So,” Lewis finally says, his voice deep, smooth, breaking the stillness. “You’re younger than I expected.”

You look up sharply, and there it is — that nervous energy he noticed the moment you walked in. “Is that … a problem?”

Lewis leans back in his chair, watching you carefully. “Not necessarily.” He lets the words hang, lets you sit with them for a moment. Then he adds, “Your resume says enough. But you know, experience counts too.”

You nod quickly, like you’ve rehearsed this. “I’ve worked hard to gain as much experience as possible, despite my age. I did an accelerated program, internships, and I’ve had hands-on experience in sports therapy.”

He smirks a little, not unkindly. “That’s what the resume says. But I want to know if you can keep up. My schedule is … demanding.”

“I can handle demanding.”

Lewis raises an eyebrow, intrigued. There’s a quiet strength in your voice now, something steady beneath the nerves. It draws him in. “You sure?”

You nod again, a little more confidently this time. “I’m sure.”

For a moment, he just looks at you. There’s something about your determination, your innocence wrapped in a quiet kind of fierceness, that makes him want to test you. Push a little further. See how far you’ll go.

“You know what I do, right?” he asks, voice low, almost teasing. “How intense it gets?”

Your lips part slightly, eyes wide again, but you don’t look away. “I know.”

“And you think you can keep up with that? With me?”

You hesitate, but only for a fraction of a second. “I do.”

Lewis lets out a breath he didn’t realize he was holding, and there’s a flicker of something — something he can’t quite name — that runs through him. Maybe it’s the way you sit there, unwavering under his scrutiny. Or maybe it’s the fact that you’re still so young, so innocent, yet there’s an undeniable strength beneath it all.

“You don’t look like you belong here,” he says suddenly, the words slipping out before he can stop them.

Your cheeks flush, but you don’t back down. “Maybe I don’t. But I can do the job.”

That makes him smile, really smile this time. “Confident.”

You don’t respond, just look at him with those wide, innocent eyes that make something inside him twist. He’s always liked control, liked knowing where everything stands, and right now, he’s trying to figure out where you fit into that. Because you shouldn’t. You shouldn’t affect him like this. But you do.

“Okay,” he says finally, breaking the silence again. “Let’s say I believe you. What makes you think you can handle me?”

You blink, clearly caught off guard. “I-I mean, I’ve worked with athletes before. High pressure, fast-paced environments.”

Lewis shakes his head, leaning forward now, arms resting on the table between you. “No. What makes you think you can handle me? It’s not just about keeping up with the physical demands. It’s about knowing what I need, sometimes before I even know it myself.”

You swallow hard, and he watches as you process the question. It’s not fair, not really, because how could you possibly know what he’s asking for? But he wants to see how you’ll respond, how far you’ll go to prove yourself.

“I … I think I’m good at reading people,” you say slowly, carefully. “I can pick up on what they need, even when they don’t say it out loud. I don’t know everything about you yet, but I’m confident I can learn.”

There it is again — that quiet strength. The determination that makes something inside him tighten. He likes it. He likes you.

“You’re not what I expected,” he says after a long pause, his voice softer now.

You blink, unsure how to respond. “Is that … bad?”

Lewis shakes his head, a slow smile spreading across his face. “No. It’s not bad at all.”

There’s a beat of silence, then he adds, “You’ve got the job.”

Your eyes widen in surprise. “But … you didn’t ask me any real questions. You haven’t seen what I can do.”

“I don’t need to,” he says simply, standing up from his chair. He walks around the table, stopping just in front of you. “I already know.”

You stand too, a little more slowly, still looking at him like you can’t quite believe what’s happening. “But … why?”

Lewis steps closer, close enough now that he can see the way your breath hitches just slightly. He lowers his voice, eyes locked on yours. “Because you’re the only one who walked in here and made me feel something.”

Your breath catches, and for a second, neither of you move. There’s something electric in the air, something that crackles between you, and Lewis feels it in his chest, in the way his pulse quickens.

“You’re going to learn a lot,” he says softly, his voice barely above a whisper now. “About me. About what I need. And I’m going to push you, test you, see how far you can go. But I think you’re ready for that.”

You swallow hard, and he watches as you try to steady yourself, try to keep up with the intensity of his gaze. “I … I am.”

Lewis nods, satisfied. “Good. We start tomorrow.”

With that, he steps back, giving you a little space, though the air between you still feels charged, thick with something unspoken. You seem unsure of what to say, how to respond, but Lewis doesn’t need words right now.

He turns, walking toward the door, but pauses just before opening it. Without looking back, he says, “See you at 6 AM sharp. Don’t be late.”

Then he’s gone, leaving you standing there, breathless and wide-eyed, already wrapped up in something you can’t quite name yet.

But Lewis knows.

He knew the moment you walked in.

You were always meant to be his.

***

The penthouse feels warm, alive in the afterglow of celebration. Outside, the city hums in the late hours, but inside, it’s just the two of you. The clink of glasses and quiet laughter fills the space as you sit on the plush couch, facing each other.

The race earlier had been electric — Lewis on top of the podium again, his smile wide and genuine, the energy of the crowd still buzzing in his veins. Now, it’s quieter. The adrenaline has faded to something softer, and there’s a comfortable ease between you that hadn’t been there in those early days. It’s been months of working together, and you’ve found your rhythm.

Lewis leans back, his long legs stretched out in front of him, one arm resting lazily on the back of the couch. His other hand holds a glass of Almave and he swirls the liquid idly, watching the way the light catches in the amber liquid.

“You’re quiet tonight,” he says, his voice low, cutting through the comfortable silence.

You look up at him, blinking a little as if pulled from your thoughts. “Just … taking it all in.”

Lewis smiles, a slow, crooked thing that makes your heart skip a beat. “Good night, yeah?”

“Yeah.” You nod, a soft smile tugging at the corners of your lips. “It was … perfect.”

He watches you for a moment, studying the way you say it, the way your eyes seem to sparkle just a little more tonight. You’re both a little tipsy on the high of the win and the celebratory toasts that followed. The Almave is smooth, the evening smooth, and everything feels just a little softer around the edges.

“You’re getting better at this,” he says, leaning forward slightly, eyes still locked on you. “The whole celebration thing.”

You laugh softly, shaking your head. “I don’t think I’m supposed to be the one celebrating.”

Lewis raises an eyebrow, smirking. “Why not? You’re part of this. Part of me.”

His words hang in the air for a moment, heavier than you expected, and you don’t know what to say. Lewis is always like this — direct, confident, never afraid to make you think, to push just a little further than you’re comfortable. It’s why you’ve grown so much since you started working with him. He makes you better, challenges you in ways no one ever has.

“You don’t have to keep quiet when things go well,” he continues, his voice soft but firm. “You’re allowed to enjoy it.”

You nod, but there’s something in your eyes, something guarded. He notices it right away, the way you pull back just a little, and he doesn’t like it. He wants to break through that wall you still keep up sometimes, even after all these months.

“What’s on your mind?” He asks, leaning in a little closer now, his voice low and gentle. “You look like you’re holding something back.”

You shift uncomfortably, eyes darting away for a second before you force yourself to look at him again. “Nothing. I’m just … tired.”

“Liar.” He says it with a teasing smile, but his eyes are sharp, focused on you in that way he has, like he can see straight through the layers you try to put up. “You know you can tell me anything, right?”

You nod, but there’s a hesitation, a flicker of something that passes over your face. Lewis doesn’t miss it. He never misses anything when it comes to you.

“You don’t believe me,” he says, voice softer now, almost coaxing.

“I do,” you protest, but it’s weak, unconvincing.

Lewis sets his glass down on the coffee table, leaning forward, elbows on his knees. “Tell me something,” he says quietly, his eyes holding yours. “Something you’ve never told anyone before.”

You blink, the request catching you off guard. Your eyes widen slightly, and Lewis can see the panic flash across your face, just for a second.

“I don’t know if-” you start, but Lewis cuts you off.

“No.” He shakes his head. “No deflecting. You can trust me.”

There’s a beat of silence, and he watches as you wrestle with yourself, weighing whether or not to let him in. He’s patient, though. He knows you need time. And he knows you’ll tell him, eventually. You always do.

“I don’t …” you start, then stop, biting your lip as you look down at your hands. “It’s … personal.”

Lewis leans back again, but his eyes stay fixed on you. “That’s the point. I’m asking you to let me in.”

You fidget in your seat, your fingers twisting in your lap as you avoid his gaze. “I’m just not sure if it’s … the right time.”

Lewis lets out a soft laugh, shaking his head. “If not now, when? We’ve been doing this — whatever this is — for months now. I think we’re past the point of secrets, don’t you?”

You stay quiet, your eyes darting to the side, and Lewis can see the internal battle you’re fighting. He can almost feel it, the way you’re teetering on the edge of letting something out that you’ve kept hidden for a long time.

“Hey,” he says softly, reaching out to place a hand on your knee, his touch light but grounding. “It’s just me. You know that, right?”

You finally look up at him, your eyes searching his for something — reassurance, maybe, or understanding. And Lewis holds your gaze, steady and unwavering, waiting for you to decide.

“I don’t know if you really want to hear this,” you say, your voice barely above a whisper.

Lewis tilts his head, a small smile playing at the corners of his mouth. “Try me.”

There’s a long pause, the air between you thick with tension. Then, finally, you take a deep breath, your shoulders rising and falling with the weight of whatever it is you’re about to say.

“I’ve never told anyone this,” you start, your voice shaky but determined. “Because it’s … it’s embarrassing. And I don’t really know how to-”

Lewis cuts you off, his voice gentle but firm. “Don’t overthink it. Just say it.”

You swallow hard, your eyes dropping to your hands again as you fidget with the hem of your shirt. There’s a long pause, and Lewis can see how hard this is for you, how much you’re struggling to get the words out. But he stays quiet, giving you the space you need, his hand still resting on your knee, a steady presence.

Then, in a voice so soft he almost doesn’t hear it, you finally speak.

“I’ve never had an orgasm.”

***

There’s a stillness in the room after your words hang in the air. Lewis watches you, his eyes sharp, but his expression softens — careful. He wasn’t expecting that. Of all the things you could’ve said, this isn’t what crossed his mind. But there it is. Laid bare between you both.

“You’ve never had an orgasm?” His voice is quiet, but there’s something darker beneath it, something that makes the air feel heavier, charged.

You don’t look at him, your face flushed with embarrassment, your hands still fidgeting in your lap. “I don’t … I don’t really know why,” you admit, your voice barely above a whisper. “It’s just never happened.”

Lewis leans back against the couch, his arm sliding across the backrest, fingers just brushing the top of your shoulder. He’s processing this, taking his time. He’s no stranger to intimacy, but this is different. This is you.

He glances at you from the corner of his eye, sees the way you shift uncomfortably under his gaze. “Hey,” he says softly, his voice low, pulling you back from wherever your mind is racing to. “Look at me.”

You hesitate, but finally, your eyes meet his. There’s vulnerability there, a kind of rawness that makes his chest tighten. He’s used to seeing you composed, in control of yourself, even when you’re nervous. But now? Now you look small, like you’re afraid of being judged.

Lewis doesn’t judge. Not you. Not ever.

“First of all,” he says, a slow smile tugging at the corners of his lips, “there’s nothing embarrassing about that. Understand?”

You nod, but you don’t look convinced. He can tell this is something you’ve been carrying around for a while, something that’s weighed on you.

“And second,” he continues, his smile widening just a little, “I may be vegan, but I’d be more than happy to devour you.”

Your eyes widen in shock, your mouth parting slightly as his words sink in. “What?” You whisper, like you didn’t hear him right.

Lewis chuckles, low and deep, leaning in closer. “You heard me.”

He can see the confusion in your eyes, the way your mind is working overtime to process what he’s offering. He likes seeing you like this — unsure, but curious. There’s something about the innocence in your gaze that stirs something primal in him, something possessive.

“I-” you start, but you cut yourself off, clearly unsure of how to respond.

Lewis tilts his head slightly, watching you carefully, his voice soft but firm. “You don’t have to do anything. Let me take the lead.”

Your breath hitches, and he watches as your lips part again, eyes darting away from his. You’re nervous, he knows that. But there’s something else too, something that feels like anticipation. You’re intrigued, curious, maybe even a little excited by the prospect of letting go.

“I don’t know what to do,” you admit, your voice barely above a whisper, your fingers now twisting the fabric of your shirt again.

Lewis shifts, closing the space between you, his hand moving to cup your chin gently, turning your face so that you’re looking at him. “You don’t have to know,” he says softly, his thumb brushing against your jaw. “All you need to do is trust me. Can you do that?”

You hesitate, your eyes searching his, trying to find something, some kind of reassurance. But there’s only certainty in his gaze, the kind that comes with confidence, with control. He knows what he’s doing, knows how to read you, and he wants to show you just how good it can be.

“Yes,” you finally breathe, the word barely audible but enough for Lewis to hear.

“Good,” he murmurs, his thumb grazing your bottom lip now. He watches as your breath catches, your lips parting just slightly under his touch. There’s a shift in the air between you, something electric, and Lewis feels it deep in his chest. He’s been patient with you, kept things professional, but there’s always been this undercurrent, this tension.

He’s not interested in waiting any longer.

His hand drops from your chin, trailing down your neck, fingers brushing over your collarbone. He watches the way your chest rises and falls, how your breath quickens just from the lightest touch. It’s intoxicating, watching you respond to him like this, and he knows you’re feeling it too — the pull, the anticipation.

“Let me show you,” he whispers, his voice low, almost a growl. “I want you to feel everything.”

You bite your lip, clearly still nervous, but you don’t pull away. You’re trusting him, even though you’re unsure of where this is going.

Lewis leans in, his lips just inches from your ear as he whispers, “Relax. Let me take care of you.”

Your body stiffens for a moment, but then he feels you melt into his touch as his hand moves to the small of your back, pulling you closer. It’s slow, deliberate, the way he moves, as if he’s savoring each moment, each small reaction from you. And that’s exactly what he’s doing.

He pulls back just enough to look at you, his eyes searching your face, gauging how you’re feeling. There’s still that uncertainty in your gaze, but there’s something else too — desire. It’s subtle, but it’s there, and Lewis can feel it in the way your body leans into his, the way your breath hitches whenever he touches you.

“Don’t think,” he murmurs, his lips just brushing against yours, teasing. “Just feel.”

You nod slightly, and that’s all the permission he needs. He closes the distance between you, his lips capturing yours in a kiss that’s soft at first, almost testing the waters. But as soon as he feels you respond — feels the way your lips part under his, the way you sigh into the kiss — it deepens. His hand moves to your waist, gripping you tighter, pulling you even closer as he takes control, guiding the pace, the rhythm.

You’re tentative, unsure, but you’re following his lead. And that’s all he needs.

Lewis pulls away just slightly, his forehead resting against yours as he catches his breath. His thumb brushes over your cheek, and he can feel the warmth radiating from your skin, the way your body is buzzing with something new, something unfamiliar.

“How are you feeling?” He asks softly, his voice rough but tender, his hand sliding down to your hip, holding you steady.

Your eyes flutter open, and you look at him with a kind of awe, like you can’t quite believe what’s happening. “I … I don’t know,” you whisper, your voice shaky. “I feel … different.”

Lewis smiles, his thumb brushing against your bottom lip again. “Good different?”

You nod, biting your lip again, and he can see the way your body is responding, even if you’re not fully aware of it yet. You’re relaxing into him, letting go of that initial hesitation, and he loves seeing it — the way you’re starting to trust him, to trust yourself.

“Let me keep going,” he whispers, his lips grazing your ear again, sending a shiver down your spine. “I want to make you feel good. Just … let me lead.”

You hesitate for a second, your breath catching in your throat, but then you nod. It’s small, almost imperceptible, but it’s there.

Lewis doesn’t waste another second. His hand slides down your side, slow and deliberate, tracing the curve of your waist, your hip, while his other hand cradles the back of your neck, pulling you closer for another kiss. This one is deeper, hungrier, and he can feel you responding, your body leaning into his touch, your lips parting for him.

He’s in control. And you’re letting him be.

And as the night stretches on, Lewis knows one thing for sure — he’s going to show you everything you’ve been missing.

Lewis deepens the kiss, feeling the way you respond, how you melt into his touch. He moves with a slow, deliberate intensity, his hand exploring the curves of your body, memorizing every line and contour. There’s a purpose to his movements — he wants to show you what you’ve been missing, and he’s determined to do it right.

“Just relax,” he murmurs against your lips, his voice a low, soothing rumble. “Let me take care of you.”

You nod slightly, your breath hitching as his hand slips under your shirt, fingers brushing against your skin. The sensation sends a shiver down your spine, and Lewis feels it, the way your body reacts to his touch. He smiles, a dark, satisfied smile, knowing he’s already starting to break through the walls you’ve built up.

His lips leave yours, trailing a path down your neck, his teeth grazing your skin lightly. He can feel your pulse quicken, the way your breath comes in shallow gasps, and it only fuels his desire. He wants to hear you, to feel you lose control, to know that he’s the one making you feel this way.

“Do you trust me?” He whispers, his lips brushing against the sensitive spot just below your ear.

“Yes,” you breathe, the word barely audible, but it’s enough for Lewis.

“Good,” he replies, his hand moving lower, tracing the waistband of your jeans. “Just let go. Let me show you what it’s like.”

You nod again, and Lewis feels a surge of satisfaction. He wants to take his time with you, to savor every moment, every reaction. His fingers deftly undo the button of your jeans, and he feels you tense slightly.

“It’s okay,” he murmurs, his voice a soothing purr. “Just breathe. I’ve got you.”

You take a shaky breath, and he can feel you trying to relax, to trust him. He slides your jeans down, his hands trailing over your thighs, his touch light but firm. He wants you to feel every sensation, to be completely aware of what he’s doing.

He looks up at you, his eyes dark with desire, but there’s a softness there too, a tenderness that surprises even him. He wants this to be good for you, wants to show you how it should feel.

“You’re so beautiful,” he says softly, his hands moving back up, caressing your skin. “You have no idea how much I’ve wanted this.”

You bite your lip, your eyes locked on his, and Lewis can see the mix of emotions there — nervousness, anticipation, desire. It’s intoxicating.

He leans in, capturing your lips in another kiss, his hand slipping between your thighs, finding the soft fabric of your underwear. He can feel the heat radiating from you, the way your body is already responding to his touch.

“Just let me lead,” he whispers against your lips, his fingers teasing you through the fabric. “I promise you’re going to love this.”

You nod, and Lewis takes it as his cue. He slips his fingers under the waistband, finding the soft, wet heat of you. You gasp, your body arching into his touch, and he smiles against your skin.

“That’s it,” he murmurs, his fingers moving in slow, deliberate circles. “Just feel.”

You’re breathing harder now, your hands gripping his shoulders, and Lewis can feel the way your body is trembling. He watches your face, the way your eyes flutter closed, your lips parted as you try to catch your breath.

“You’re so responsive,” he says, his voice low and rough. “I love how you’re reacting to me.”

He increases the pressure slightly, his fingers finding a rhythm that has you gasping, your body arching off the couch. He can feel you getting wetter, your arousal slick against his fingers, and it drives him wild.

“Do you like that?” He asks, his lips brushing against your ear.

“Yes,” you gasp, your voice breathless. “Oh God, yes.”

“Good,” he replies, his fingers moving faster now, the pace increasing. “Because I’m not stopping until you come for me.”

You moan, your body trembling as the pleasure builds, and Lewis can feel you getting closer, your muscles tensing, your breath coming in short, desperate gasps. He wants to push you over the edge, to see you lose control completely.

“Let go,” he murmurs, his voice a rough command. “I want to feel you come.”

You’re close, he can feel it, and he moves his fingers faster, his thumb finding just the right spot. You cry out, your body arching off the couch, and Lewis can feel you clenching around his fingers as the orgasm crashes over you.

“That’s it,” he says, his voice a low growl. “Let it out.”

You’re trembling, gasping for breath, and Lewis doesn’t stop, his fingers still moving, drawing out every last bit of pleasure. He wants you to feel it completely, to know what it’s like to lose yourself in the sensation.

As the waves of pleasure finally start to subside, he slows his movements, his touch gentle now, soothing. He watches you, the way your chest rises and falls, your eyes still closed, a look of bliss on your face.

“You’re incredible,” he murmurs, his fingers slipping out, his hand moving to rest on your thigh. “Absolutely incredible.”

You open your eyes, looking at him with a mix of amazement and exhaustion. “I … I can’t believe that just happened,” you whisper.

Lewis smiles, a slow, satisfied smile. “Believe it. And trust me, it’s only the beginning.”

He leans in, kissing you deeply, his hand still resting on your thigh, grounding you. He can feel the way your body is still trembling slightly, the aftershocks of your orgasm making you shiver.

“How do you feel?” He asks softly, his lips brushing against yours.

“Amazing,” you reply, your voice shaky but filled with wonder. “I didn’t know it could be like that.”

Lewis chuckles, a low, satisfied sound. “Oh, it can be even better. I promise you.”

You bite your lip, looking at him with a mixture of desire and uncertainty. “Really?”

“Really,” he says, his hand moving up to cup your cheek, his thumb brushing against your skin. “I want to show you everything, make you feel things you’ve never felt before.”

You blush, the color rising in your cheeks, and Lewis feels a surge of affection for you. You’re still so shy, so unsure, but you’re trusting him, and that means everything to him.

“I want that,” you say softly, your eyes locked on his.

“Good,” he replies, his voice filled with determination. “Because I’m not done with you yet.”

He kisses you again, his lips moving against yours with a hunger that takes your breath away. His hand slips back down, finding the heat of you once more, and he can feel the way your body responds, the way you’re already getting aroused again.

“I want to taste you,” he murmurs against your lips, his voice rough with desire. “I want to make you come with my mouth.”

You gasp, your eyes wide with surprise and anticipation. “I … I’ve never …”

Lewis cuts you off with a kiss, his hand moving to gently push you back against the couch. “Trust me,” he says, his voice a low growl. “You’re going to love this.”

He moves down your body, his lips trailing over your skin, leaving a path of fire in their wake. He takes his time, savoring each moment, each reaction, until he’s settled between your thighs, his hands gently spreading you open.

“God, you’re beautiful,” he murmurs, his eyes dark with desire. “I can’t wait to taste you.”

You’re trembling, your breath coming in short gasps, and Lewis can feel the anticipation radiating off you. He leans in, his tongue flicking out to taste you, and the sound you make — the soft, desperate moan — drives him wild.

He starts slow, teasing, his tongue moving in gentle, deliberate strokes, wanting to savor the taste of you, the way you respond to his touch. He can feel your body tensing, your hips arching towards him, and he holds you steady, his hands gripping your thighs.

“Just let go,” he murmurs against your skin, his tongue finding a rhythm that has you gasping, your fingers tangling in his braids. “Let me make you feel good.”

You’re moaning now, your body trembling as the pleasure builds, and Lewis can feel the way you’re getting closer, the way your muscles are tensing, your breath coming in short, desperate gasps.

“Oh God,” you gasp, your voice high and breathless. “Lewis, please …”

He smiles against your skin, increasing the pressure, his tongue moving faster, more insistent. He wants to push you over the edge again, to feel you lose control completely.

“Come for me,” he growls, his hands gripping your thighs tighter. “I want to taste you.”

You cry out, your body arching off the couch as the orgasm crashes over you, and Lewis doesn’t stop, his tongue still moving, drawing out every last bit of pleasure. He wants you to feel it completely, to know what it’s like to lose yourself in the sensation.

As the waves of pleasure finally start to subside, he slows his movements, his touch gentle now, soothing. Lewis pulls back slightly, watching you as you lay there, your chest still rising and falling from the aftershocks of your orgasm.

The look on your face — blissful, flushed, and so vulnerable — makes something twist deep in his chest. You’ve just experienced something new, something he’s given you, and the knowledge of that fills him with an intense satisfaction.

He wipes his mouth with the back of his hand, his smile slow and full of heat. “You taste incredible,” he murmurs again, voice rough, letting the words hang between you. “I’ve never tasted anything better.”

You’re still catching your breath, but your eyes find his, and there’s a spark of something there — nervous, but … curious.

Lewis can see the way you hesitate, the way you’re trying to form words but don’t quite know how. He leans in, brushing his thumb across your bottom lip. “What is it, love?” He asks, his voice soft, coaxing. He’s patient, not wanting to rush you.

You bite your lip, your cheeks flushed with both the intensity of what’s just happened and the thought clearly forming in your mind. “I … I want to …” You hesitate, glancing away briefly, embarrassed. “I want to do the same to you.”

Lewis raises an eyebrow, intrigued, but he doesn’t say anything. He waits, watching the way your gaze drops to his chest, avoiding eye contact.

“I just don’t know … how,” you admit, your voice barely above a whisper.

His heart stirs at your shyness, the vulnerability of your admission. There’s something so genuine about you, so unaffected. He can see the innocence still lingering in your eyes, even after everything that’s just happened. It makes him want to be gentle, to guide you, to show you that there’s no pressure here — just a shared experience between the two of you.

Lewis shifts his weight, sitting up and leaning back against the cushions. He reaches out, his hand cupping your cheek, forcing you to meet his eyes. “You don’t have to be nervous,” he says quietly, his thumb brushing across your skin. “You don’t have to do anything you’re not ready for.”

You shake your head quickly, your hand reaching out to touch his chest, your fingers splayed against his skin. “I want to,” you say, the words coming out more firmly now, but still tinged with uncertainty. “I just … I don’t want to mess it up.”

Lewis chuckles, the sound low and warm, easing the tension in the room. “You won’t mess it up,” he says, leaning in to press a kiss to your forehead. “Trust me, you can’t mess this up.”

You glance up at him, your eyes searching his face, and he can see the resolve settling in. Slowly, you shift, moving closer to him, your hands tentatively sliding down his chest, tracing the hard lines of muscle. Lewis watches you carefully, his breath slowing as your touch grows more confident.

Your fingers dip lower, brushing the waistband of his sweatpants, and you pause, glancing up at him again. “What do I … do first?” You ask, your voice small but filled with curiosity.

Lewis reaches down, his hand gently covering yours, guiding it to the drawstring of his pants. “You start by taking these off,” he says, his voice deep, steady. “Just go slow.”

You swallow hard, but you nod, your fingers trembling slightly as you untie the knot and slowly pull his pants down. Lewis helps you, lifting his hips slightly to ease them off, and soon, they’re discarded on the floor. He’s left in just his boxers, his arousal evident beneath the thin fabric.

You bite your lip again, your eyes widening slightly as you take in the sight of him. “I don’t … I don’t know if I’ll be good at this,” you admit, your voice wavering with uncertainty.

Lewis reaches out, brushing a strand of hair behind your ear, his touch soft, reassuring. “You don’t have to be perfect,” he says gently. “Just listen to me, and I’ll tell you what feels good. Okay?”

You nod, your nerves still there, but there’s a determination in your gaze now, a desire to learn, to please him the way he pleased you. Slowly, you reach for the waistband of his boxers, pulling them down carefully, and Lewis lets out a low breath as he’s freed from the confines of the fabric.

For a moment, you just stare, your hand hovering uncertainly above him. “It’s … bigger than I thought,” you murmur, and Lewis can’t help but grin at your honesty.

“Don’t worry,” he says, his voice laced with amusement. “You’ll get used to it.”

You look up at him, biting your lip nervously, and Lewis reaches down, taking your hand in his. He guides it to him, his breath hitching slightly as your fingers wrap around him, tentative but curious.

“Like this?” You ask, your voice small, unsure.

Lewis closes his eyes briefly, feeling the warmth of your hand around him, the softness of your touch. “Yeah,” he breathes, his voice rougher now. “Just like that.”

You start slow, your hand moving tentatively at first, feeling your way through the unfamiliar motions. Lewis watches you, his breath deepening as you grow more confident, your movements becoming more fluid. He can see the concentration on your face, the way you’re so focused on getting it right, and it only makes him want you more.

“Am I doing it okay?” You ask, glancing up at him, your eyes wide, seeking approval.

Lewis groans softly, his hand moving to rest on the back of your neck. “You’re doing perfect,” he says, his voice thick with desire. “Just keep going.”

You bite your lip again, nodding slightly as your hand moves faster, finding a rhythm. Lewis’ breath hitches, his body tensing slightly as the pleasure starts to build. He’s trying to stay in control, to guide you, but you’re learning quickly, and the way your touch feels — tentative yet eager — is driving him wild.

“You’re so good at this,” he murmurs, his hand tightening slightly on the back of your neck, encouraging you. “Just like that.”

Your cheeks flush at his praise, and you seem to grow even more confident, your movements more sure. Lewis can feel his control slipping, the pleasure coiling tight in his gut, but he doesn’t want to rush this. He wants you to feel how much he’s enjoying it, how good you’re making him feel.

“Do you want to use your mouth?” He asks, his voice low, rough with desire. “I can show you how.”

You hesitate for a moment, your eyes widening slightly at the suggestion, but then you nod. “Yes,” you whisper. “Show me.”

Lewis shifts, adjusting himself so that you have better access, and he cups your cheek gently, guiding you closer. “Just start slow,” he says softly, his thumb brushing over your lips. “Don’t worry about being perfect. Just take your time.”

You nod, your breath coming in shallow gasps as you lean in, your lips brushing against him tentatively at first. Lewis groans softly, his hand tightening on the back of your neck, but he’s careful not to push you too hard. He wants you to move at your own pace, to find your own rhythm.

You open your mouth, taking him in slowly, and Lewis’ breath hitches, his body tensing as the warmth of your mouth surrounds him. “Fuck,” he murmurs, his voice barely above a whisper. “You feel so good.”

You look up at him, your eyes wide, and he can see the uncertainty there, but also the desire to please him. He groans, his hand guiding you gently, showing you how to move, how to take him deeper, how to use your tongue.

“Just like that,” he breathes, his voice thick with pleasure. “You’re doing so good, love.”

You follow his lead, your movements slow and tentative at first, but you’re learning quickly, finding a rhythm that has Lewis’ breath coming in shallow gasps. He can feel his control slipping, the pleasure coiling tighter with each passing moment.

He’s never felt anything like this — the combination of your innocence, your eagerness to learn, and the way you look up at him, eyes wide and full of curiosity — it’s intoxicating.

“Fuck,” he groans, his hand tightening on the back of your neck as you take him deeper, your mouth moving in perfect rhythm with his guidance. “You’re gonna make me come if you continue doing that.”

You pause for a moment, looking up at him with wide eyes, and Lewis chuckles softly, his hand brushing through your hair. “Keep going,” he says, his voice low and rough. “I want you to finish me off.”

You nod slightly, your lips sliding back down over him, and Lewis can’t hold back the groan that escapes his lips. The pleasure is building fast, and he knows he’s not going to last much longer, not with the way you’re moving, the way you’re looking at him like you’re determined to please him.

“Just like that,” he murmurs, his hand tightening in your hair as the pleasure coils tight in his gut. “Fuck, you’re so good at this.”

You take him deeper, your mouth working in perfect rhythm, and Lewis can feel the tension building, the pleasure crashing over him like a tidal wave. He groans loudly, his body tensing as he reaches the edge.

“God, I’m gonna come,” he gasps, his hand tightening in your hair. “You should stop if you don’t want to swallow-”

But you don’t stop. Instead, you push even further, taking him deeper into your mouth, your movements growing more confident, more determined. Your tongue swirls around him, your hand stroking in time with your lips, and Lewis feels his control shatter.

He’s never felt anything like this — your eagerness, your willingness to please him, the way you’re pushing yourself to learn and to give him everything he needs. It’s overwhelming, and it sends him spiraling over the edge.

“Fuck,” he groans, his head falling back, his eyes closing as the pleasure crashes over him in waves. His body tenses, his muscles locking up as he comes, the intensity of it almost too much to handle.

You don’t pull away. You keep going, your mouth and hand working together to draw out every last bit of his orgasm, your movements steady and sure. He can feel the way you’re trying to take everything, the way you’re pushing yourself, and it drives him wild.

He’s gasping for breath, his body trembling with the aftershocks of his release, and he forces himself to open his eyes, to look down at you. You’re still there, your eyes locked on his, a mixture of determination and curiosity in your gaze.

“God, you’re amazing,” he breathes, his voice rough and unsteady. He gently pulls you away, his hands cupping your cheeks, guiding you up to his level. “You didn’t have to do all that, you know.”

You bite your lip, a shy smile tugging at the corners of your mouth. “I wanted to,” you say softly. “I wanted to make you feel good.”

Lewis’s heart swells at your words, the sincerity in your voice. He leans in, kissing you deeply, tasting himself on your lips, and it only makes him want you more. He pulls you into his lap, wrapping his arms around you, holding you close.

“You did,” he murmurs against your lips. “You made me feel incredible. You’re incredible.”

You blush, the color rising in your cheeks, and Lewis can’t help but smile. There’s something so genuine about you, so unaffected by everything that’s happened. It makes him want to protect you, to show you that you’re safe with him, that you can trust him.

He pulls back slightly, looking into your eyes, his expression softening. “Thank you,” he says quietly. “For trusting me. For letting me be the one to show you this.”

You smile shyly, your fingers tracing patterns on his chest. “Thank you for being so patient,” you reply. “For making me feel … good.”

Lewis chuckles softly, his hand brushing through your hair. “I’d say we both came out of this feeling pretty good,” he says, a teasing glint in his eye.

You laugh, the sound light and carefree, and it’s like music to his ears. He kisses you again, slow and tender, savoring the moment. There’s a warmth between you now, a connection that wasn’t there before, and it feels like the start of something new, something real.

As the night wears on, you stay wrapped in each other’s arms, talking and laughing, the intimacy of the moment lingering between you. In the back of his mind, Lewis knows that this is just the beginning, that there’s so much more to explore, so much more to learn about each other. And he can’t wait to do so.

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mv1simp · 6 months ago

Text

Just Hold On, We’re Going Home ♥️

Max Verstappen x Fiancé! Reader

I got my eye on you, you’re everything that I see (I want your hot love and emotion, endlessly)

After a particularly bad argument with his father, Max is mentally checked out and needs to be pulled out of the dark place his mind has gone too. As his fiancé, you know just what to say to make him feel your love and bring him safely home.

Content includes: 18+ MDNI, smut, size kink, orgasm denial, I know I said I would never write subby max and that was apparently a LIE, but he’s more of a soft pure loverboy who needs you ok, you both have daddy issues, mild angst and childhood trauma, 3.1k WC

You can tell your fiancé’s mind is somewhere else right now, instead of at the intimate dinner you’re sharing at a cosy restaurant. You know this because you know Max well, having been friends before you two started dating, meeting as mutuals within the same extended group, and then online where you would both take a break from your demanding careers to enjoy a friendly grand theft auto competition.

Your friendship had gotten closer when you’d proved to be someone he could trust and always rely on. Especially when it came to talking about his father - a very multi layered relationship given that Max owed a large part of his F1 success to Jos’s discipline and the fact that, well, said discipline had involved emotional abuse on a good day and physical abuse on a bad one. It was a complex dynamic to unpack, and one that he didn’t really do with anyone - because he couldn’t trust anyone outside his family to not leak it to the media somehow. And within his family, the only one who came close to understanding was his little sister Victoria - who wanted to talk about it just as little as Max did.

However, you knew a thing or two about complex relationships with parents, growing up in a household with a luxury property developer tyrant of a father, and a homemaker mother who would never dare come between her husband and his demands for absolute perfection from his children, especially from you - the eldest. Similarly to Max, you owed a large part of your highly successful investment company and Oxford financial degree to your father’s attitude, which had been so sweet on days you performed, and then like a dark thunderstorm on the days you didn’t.

So you’d been the only one to see the look in Max’s eye one night when he’d had one too many to drink at a house party, and had wandered out into the garden by himself. You’d spotted him leaving, already having a growing soft spot for your friend at that stage, and had followed him out. It had taken you a while to find him amongst the dark sprawling bushes, but when you did, you promptly sat down next to the much taller Dutchman and didn’t ask him anything. Instead, you told him about the time you’d scored 99.9 on a notoriously difficult advanced calculus exam, and you’d proudly told your father about the result of your months of study, top in your class - and he’d responded by coldly demanding why you didn’t get the 100. What’d you say to him? Max slurred, morbidly intrigued by the story.

Nothing, I was way too upset I'd disappointed him. But I did go fight the Mathematics head professor about giving me the extra 0.1. You shrugged, telling him you probably should’ve just gone to frickin family therapy instead and saved yourself arguing for 45 minutes only to find out 99.9 was the highest possible mark anyways.

Max looked at you, blue eyes intense in the moonlight. You in turn looked back at him with nervous doe eyes, and when he didn’t say anything, anxiously started apologising. Perhaps you’d read his emotions wrong, you didn’t mean to overstep and relate to his own relationship with his father-

Max cuts you off to explain what had been on his mind. I’m sorry, you - you argued for 45 minutes with the department head for an extra 0.1? On top of 99.9? This time, when your gazes meet, you both burst into drunk giggles at the sheer absurdity of a five foot nothing, 15 year old schoolgirl going toe to toe with a grumpy old professor for such a thing.

He’d started opening up to you after that, bit by bit peeling back the onion layers, because you always met his confessions with no judgement because this was his narrative, and helped him reflect on his emotions and understand why, 20 years on, he still couldn't accept a compliment but easily responded to insults. And when you two finally became a couple after a very convoluted weekend in Ibiza - involving multiple schemes from both parties, various slutty outfit choices from Max that showed off his abs, and your use of one (1) Charles Leclerc to make his Dutch childhood karting rival jealous (a story for another time) - you’d heard the full tale of what Max’s upbringing had been like.

And now, 5 years on from the infamous Ibiza weekend, and sitting across from him at dinner as his fiancée, you know instantly from the look in his eyes what's troubling him. You touch his large hand gently to draw him back in, and with a startle he comes back to you, apologising. It’s been a shit last few races, yeah? You start, going straight to the source of his worries. And now a big one this weekend, Zandvoort, your home race.

Max sighs, nodding, grateful for your ability to pick up on what's on his mind without him needing to say it. On your drive home he rants passionately about all the bullshit decisions his team has been making and the problems with the car he's asked to get fix for months. You soothe him reassuringly, rubbing his hand where it rests firmly on your thigh as his other drives, chiming in to agree with his critiques and make him laugh with jokes to diffuse his tension.

And that night he shows you just how thankful he is for all your understanding, picking you up in a display of strength that always has you needy and dripping for him. He smirks as you beg him to take you to bed and fuck me, please Maxie, after he has you breathlessly stretched out on his large, thick fingers. Like the good fiance he is he gives you what you want, all his stress melting away with each strong thrust into your small frame underneath him, your tiny hands clinging desperately to his broad shoulders.

You're furious the next morning when you wake up to multiple calls that there'd been a massive PR scandal within one of your principal investing companies, sending your high profile clients into panic - including your father, who demanded you fly out to London right now to sort this out. You'd been ready to send your executive manager out instead, not wanting to miss this important race for Max - but he'd chuckled and reassured you he was sure he could handle it - having done some odd 200 races or another. So after giving him a guilty kiss, you two fly off in opposite directions. You'd meant to have arrived to the paddock by Saturday noon at the latest, in time for qualifying at least, but London takes longer than expected. You don't come until halfway through the race on Sunday, and see him take P2 after multiple mistakes on the track - both from him and his team. Despite the objectively good result, you know Max would not be pleased. Seeing the stormy expression on his face on the podium after he'd tersely greeted you post-race, you give him his space to cool off, knowing it's not personal. Instead you catch up with the other WAGs and laugh at Charles who still faintly blushes at the sight of you, thinking about Ibiza. But later, when you head to the Redbull garage, you hear raised voices arguing in Dutch - before Jos emerges from Max's room and storms away. You pause before deciding to go in, gently asking how he's doing.

Max, as you expected, scoffs and sarcastically asks how do you think he's doing. You continue reassuring him, being used to seeing him like this after a bad race, and place a soft hand on his shoulder to soothe him - only for him to rip it off you almost violently, making you flinch in surprise. He yells at you to stop pretending like you understood a damn thing, as if you'd have any idea what kind of high pressure he has to deal with compared to your comfortable office job.

You manage to hold it together as you tell him you're going to leave, you'll be flying back to Monaco and will talk to him there once he's calmed down. He rolls his eyes, telling you to get out, then and you make sure you're well away from the paddock and in the privacy of a car before you left yourself cry. Max had definitely been angry around you before, even enraged - but you'd never felt the full brunt of it come out and attack you so directly. Taking a deep breath, you focus on calming yourself down, as the argument brings up your anxieties from your own father - who had no problem raising his voice when he was angry. By the time you land in Monaco, you're ready to head back to the office, where you end up accidentally sleeping on your couch after tidying up the rest of your PR scandal.

The next day as you're coming home from work, unlocking the door to your shared apartment with Max, you stumble forward when the door is yanked open. On the other side is your rather panicked looking fiancee, who says that he'd thought that you- he swallows, looking like he was about to be sick -that you'd left. Forever. Perplexed, you tell him that you’d never do that, not without talking to him, and he launches into a frantic apology, saying that he regretted his words so much, that you didn't deserve to have him take his anger out onto you. Grateful for the sincere apology, you let him know with a genuine smile, saying that you're completely okay now, you had understood he’d been frustrated in the heat of the moment.

But Max's worried looks at you don't stop as you wander off to take a shower and then continue over your favourite dinner that he'd cooked, uncomfortable with the compliments you gave him about it - as per usual, still struggling to accept a kind word about anything he did. When you feel his upset gaze on you again when you're cuddled against his shirtless chest, watching a movie, you decide enough is enough and pressed pause to gently ask him what was on his mind.

That I just let all my anger out onto you like that without any hesitation. And the things I said about your job not being important - God, it’s something my dad would have said. His guilt at having hurt you with his cruel words make his blue eyes bright with the threat of tears. He says he couldn't just accept that you'd let it go because you thought it was fine, because it wasn't, not really, don't ever let me speak to you like that again, schat.

Bringing yourself up to straddle your fiance's wide lap, you settle in comfortably and closely examine the helpless look in his pretty eyes. It's rare for Max to get so worked about something like this, being the rather laid back guy he is off the track. But when he does get like this, all pent up from stress, his father’s expectations heavy on one shoulder and the fear of turning out like him on the other, there’s very few ways to pull him out of his head. Gun to your head, you’ll admit, you had your own personal favourite method for helping Max unwind. Because on nights like these, it's the the only time he'll hand the control over to you in the bedroom and the only place where he'll accept your compliments. With a teasing smile, you pepper him with gentle kisses, erasing away every tense line on his face.

Sure, Max you whisper breathily into his ear, biting the edge of it, I guess I did forgive you too easily. Maybe I should make you work for it, hmm? A delicious pink flush spreads across Max's cheeks, making you grin wickedly and press deep kisses into his soft mouth. He breathlessly whines when you pull away to tease your hand down his muscles chest, stopping just above his low waisted sweats. You can already feel how hard he is underneath you with the impressive semi he’s sporting. Choosing to ignore it, you climb off him and pull him along with you too. He follows you like a lost dog to where you walk over to the kitchen, dropping your hoodie as you went, to reveal a cute La Perla pink set underneath that he'd given you for an anniversary.

When you stop to lean against the counter, eyeing him coyly, he tilts his head down curiously - only to have you tangle your small hands through his messy, long locks and guide him all the way down, until he's on his knees below you. He looks positively delicious, all soft and flushed, as you coo that he needs to prove just how sorry he is, by putting that mean mouth of his to work and eating you out, yeah?

He nods eagerly, burying his large nose right into your core and breathing in, licking furiously through your thin panties and when he tries to yank the lacy garment out of the way, you swat his hand back, telling him no, not yet, he didn’t deserve it.

He whines openly then, teary and breathless against you as he kisses along your thighs, the swell of your ass, and then to your delicate ankle as you teasingly stop him coming any closer with a foot to his toned chest, your gold anklet dangling. Running a hand through his hair again, you tug on it firmly so you can smirk down at him when he begs you please, schat, I promise I’ll be s'good for you-

Your resolve is crumbling at seeing your normally in control fiancé reduced to putty in your small hands. Trying to maintain your willpower, you teasingly pull your pink bralette off first, enjoying the way Max's breath hitches, eyes wide with pure need, as he follows your hands ever so slowly slide your panties down your legs. But he still doesn't move, fists clenched into his thighs, desperate blue eyes looking up at you, waiting for your approval to touch you. You throw him a bone and slide one soft thigh over his broad shoulder, your other leg still leaning against the counter, giving him irresistible access to your dripping pussy. Go on then, baby, you tease, here's your reward.

He buries his tongue into you in half a millisecond, eating you out like he's kneeling at your altar and worshipping your thighs. His large hands squeeze your curvy ass, pulling you even closer onto his tongue as he hungrily eats you out like a starved man. You're moaning sweetly, telling him he's doing so good for you, it feels amazing, that you wonder how the world would react if they knew their favourite F1 champion was as good at eating pussy as he was at driving racecars.

Your praise has him keening, now desperately kissing and sucking your core, and somehow both your thighs have ended up draped across his strong shoulders, his large palms still squeezing your ass. This angle lets him slide in deeper than you’ve ever felt his mouth reach, face completely buried between your thick thighs, and with a few more talented flicks you’re lean back against the counter and squirting right onto his waiting tongue.

Dazed from the intensity of your orgasm, it takes you a few minutes to come down from your high, and Max slowly licks your clit in the meantime, toeing the line to overstimulation. Standing back up shakily from potentially the most mind blowing oral you've ever had in your life, you tilt his chin up to look at you with a gentle hand, giving him a kiss because he was such a good boy, all for me, yeah baby?

He nods furiously, almost looking like a cute Labrador with his blonde hair and blue eyes and you giggle at the mental image, telling him he’s earned his next treat. Max practically stumbles after you as you gently tug him up by his jaw and back over to the comfortable sofa, where he sits down after you playfully shove his chest. His muscular thighs spread wide to make a perfect throne for you to climb onto. He's still in his boxers, his bulge straining against the damp material, and you tease him with a smug smirk, asking if he'd already cum in his pants just from eating you out, like a dirty little perv?

He desperately moans out his No, no, promise I didn’t, held it all back to fill inside you, please- He becomes breathless from your mean hands that tease his cock further through his boxers. When he tried to redirect you, guiding your hand under his boxers to where he really needs it, you shove him away and tell him to keep his hands to himself. You demand to know why he thinks he deserves to put his gross, sticky cum anywhere near your sweet, precious hole, is he at least going to use some manners and ask politely?

Max pants, face flushed and blonde strands attractively stuck to his forehead as he feverishly begs you, please, schat, he needed to be inside of you so bad, he couldn't take it, hadn't he been so good for you already? You can tell your fiance is close to his tipping point, and you almost send him over the edge with a smooth motion as you slip his fully erect, huge cock out of his boxers and start lazily jerking him off. Sliding your fingers into his mouth for him to lick, you smirk as he does exactly that. Using his spit on your hands to give him a couple good pumps - making his breath hitch as he struggles to hold back his orgasm - you guide his throbbing length to your dripping pussy, which is so ready for a second round.

Max screws his eyes shut, head thrown back, as you wickedly torment him some more, dragging his tip teasingly along your puffy lips, drenching him with your slick. His hands dig into the sofa, desperately trying to resist the urge to touch you like you'd ordered him to earlier. And when you finally sink down on him, all the way to his base, he's moaning and begging again, tears in the corner of his eyes as you slowly ride him - edging his poor cock with the relief of your tight, warm cunny but not giving it quite enough pressure. And when your thighs are starting to get tired from the effort, and Max has ripped holes on your sofa while gripping the fabric, you know it's time to let him take control again.

Guiding his hands gently to your waist, you lean forward into his firm chest to whisper Maxie, baby, it's too much for you, can he please help you out and make you cum again-

His eyes snap open, wide blue eyes coming to stare into your pleading doe ones as you hand the power over to him, all dished up on a silver platter with a pretty please. He brings his forehead forward to lean against yours, your ragged breaths meeting as you feel shivers run up your spine in anticipation of what’s coming. Then, with an all too familiar smirk returning to his face, he tightens his hands into a bruising grip on your waist and easily begins bouncing you up and down on his fat cock. His wide thighs, which had been straining in an effort to hold back, now flex as he thrusts deeply into you from below, making you wail at the furious change in pace and you're screaming his name, proving once again just how good he makes you feel. You two barely last another few seconds before you're cumming, your name on his lips as he pumps an obscenely thick creampie into you.

You stay like that for a while, sweaty and tangled in each others arms, exchanging gentle kisses and loving affirmations with him still deep inside you, until sleep starts to take over. Later, after you'd showered because wow, that had been a particularly filthy session, you find yourself stroking his damp hair as he lies against your chest, the rest of his body on the bed to keep the weight off you. Thank you, liefje, he murmurs sleepily against you. At your inquisitive hmm? he presses a loving kiss to your skin, telling you his thanks was for always knowing how to calm me down. For always bringing me back home. I love you.

You smile in the dark, warmth blooming across your chest as you press a kiss to his head. Always, Max, just like you do for me. I love you too.

---------------------------------------------------------

A/N: SOO i never thought i'd write this but after zandervoot im manifesting the return of max supremacy with this. had to rewrite a bunch of times cause genuinly couldn’t picture max as sub instead of dom so lmk what u guys think!! Also… should i do a part 2 where its the reader with daddy issues instead hehehe 😼😼😮‍💨

#max verstappen imagine #max verstappen x reader #max verstappen fanfic #max verstappen #max verstappen smut #f1 smut #max verstappen x you #f1 imagine #f1 fanfic #max verstappen x oc #18+ mdni #formula 1 #f1 x reader

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topazadine · 6 months ago

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Avoiding therapy speak in writing

I think we all know by now that therapy speak is irritating and unrealistic, especially if you are writing in a fantasy world that doesn't even have modern psychology.

Part of the reason that it is so annoying is that it is the definition of telling instead of showing: characters are just plainly informing us of their feelings rather than making us work for a better understanding. It's cheap and boring. Instead of making your characters seem like complex individuals with their own hangups and difficulties, they seem like plot points programmed to tell us things.

But obviously, you want to put these people in situations and have them talk about it! How do you do that without sounding maudlin? Here are some options.

Listen to real arguments/conversations

I cannot stress enough how important it is to listen to how actual real human beings talk to each other during heightened emotional states. They don't have to be nasty abusers, and they don't have to be perfect angels, just everyday people doing their normal thing.

Of course, I'd hope you're not seeing people argue all the time, but if you do happen to see it, listen carefully and notice how people actually address their problems. Think back to tough conversations that you have had, even if you wouldn't classify them as arguments. Consider how people acted and reacted to one another. Notice how normal humans talk about issues outside of therapy, even intelligent and emotionally evolved people.

I've had years of therapy, and even I do not talk in therapy ways about my issues when I'm talking to my family or friends. It just feels cheesy and fake outside of that particular setting - plus, it freaks other people out and can seem kind of manipulative. Try talking like that in a real conversation and see how uncomfortable it is. You'll understand why avoiding therapy speak is important.

Consider the character's own hangups

Just as everyone has their own unique speaking style and mindset, so do we all have our own argument styles. These are often informed by our pasts and upbringing; they are as varied as our own histories. However, there are a few different options.

Someone with a happy upbringing may be more assertive and willing to address their problems because they had that demonstrated to them as children.

A spoiled child will grow up to be a demanding adult who refuses to give any quarter.

Those who got yelled at a lot as children may shut down and fawn to avoid getting hurt.

Someone who grew up in a violent household may mimic that behavior and get incredibly aggressive when upset.

Individuals whose parents didn't teach them emotional regulation will lash out and get loud.

Manipulative people may stay very calm and gaslight the other person, or they may get hysterical to garner sympathy and make people focus on comforting them.

Someone who has gone to therapy may revert to their original argument style, or they may imperfectly apply what they have learned in a way that feels a bit unnatural. They may start out with rage, then force themselves to calm down through grounding techniques.

People who have been coached through previous emotional outbursts could demand a time out, then fail to actually calm themselves down.

Some may refuse to acknowledge they are upset and insist, in increasingly forceful terms, that they are fine.

Others may get quiet or crack a joke to ease the tension, but it doesn't really help.

Keep each confrontation short

IRL, emotional confrontations are generally not that long. They don't go on for hours and hours, though it can feel that way. No one is going on and on about their feelings and sharing every little detail of how they feel (at least not that I know of personally, maybe other people are different).

Even the worst arguments I have had, the real nexus of the argument was maybe an hour or two, though the fallout lasted much longer. I'd say there was an hour maximum of real, active confrontation, preceded or followed by hours/days/weeks of simmering frustration.

Why? Because arguments are exhausting. You don't have the energy for that in the heat of the moment. Yes, feuds and fights can last years, but each actual confrontation is short.

For longer, more serious issues, hash it out over a few sessions rather than all at once. It's rare to get everything out of the way immediately unless the characters already have a strong, loving relationship.

Show incongruencies

Especially for more reserved people, they will likely have their emotions leaking all over the place but won't actually say anything. As such, focus on body language while keeping the conversation more focused on the plot. For example, Character A might be crying but still trying to argue their point about whatever is going on.

Address physical complaints instead of emotional ones

In many cases, people will use "I'm tired" or "I didn't sleep well" or "I'm not feeling great" as shorthand for whatever is actually bothering them. It relieves pressure by not making them talk about upsetting matters while still addressing their discomfort in some form.

You should also consider the fact that some people can't connect physical sensations to feelings, so they may genuinely feel ill and not really understand why. This is especially common in people who can't emotionally regulate or have been through trauma.

For myself, I tend to somatize my feelings, so I might not feel upset, but I will feel physically sick. My stomach will hurt, my chest will get tight, or I'll get a headache, but my emotional state will seem calm. This isn't all that unusual, and many people experience this to different degrees.

As such, you can have your character say that their stomach hurts, or that they have a headache and can't discuss this anymore, or that they need to go lie down because they're dizzy. If we know they're relatively healthy, this can be a clue that they're getting overwhelmed but either cannot pinpoint their emotions or don't want to discuss them.

Let characters advance and retreat

A lot of the time, someone will address a scary emotion and then retreat again, sometimes over a period of hours, days, or even weeks. This is normal: most of us don't have the emotional fortitude to forge ahead through something difficult all in one go. Character A may say something vulnerable, then change the topic, laugh it off, say they're done discussing it, or even leave the situation.

Leave emotions partially unaddressed

Again, it's rare for someone to spill out everything they're feeling all in one go. As such, have Character A address the most important thing - or the least important, depending on their level of emotional maturity - and let it be done for then.

They might say their small piece, but when someone tries to probe deeper, they don't have an answer, or they get "stuck" on that one emotional level and cannot go further.

If Character B keeps pushing, then they may get incredibly upset and push back, or retreat.

Have Character B point out the feelings

Works especially well if the other character is a close companion or a parental figure. Often, people who know us really well will have better insight into our emotions than we do. Or, we might have good insight into our emotions but are still too afraid to open up. Having Character B point out the issue gives Character A grace to be more honest.

I can't tell you how many times I've been really upset, so I've distracted from the issue by getting angry about something completely different. Then, my mom will gently point out that I'm not actually crying about my new plastic cup being broken or whatever; I'm actually upset about XYZ. In that moment, I realize I've been caught out and admit that yes, that's what I'm really upset about.

Have Character A address it with a third character

Who among us hasn't gone to someone else to talk about our feelings? Having a third party serve as a sounding board is normal. Sometimes, Character A will feel such catharsis from this conversation that they don't address it as thoroughly with Character B.

Of course, you can use this to your advantage and create more tension if the third character gives bad advice or is biased.

Remember that just because the third party responded well does not mean that Character B does. You also have to avoid omniscience and remember that Character B wasn't privy to that conversation.

Have one confrontation be a stand-in for a larger one

I always think about the "The Iranian Yogurt Is Not the Issue" post when I think about this. Often times, things like not doing the dishes or whatever aren't actually the big deal: it's lack of boundaries, communication, or respect. A minor argument can be shorthand for a larger one that is too challenging for the characters to tackle.

This isn't just creating drama for the hell of it, though; it's about exploring the larger issues without making the characters lay it out on the table. A good reader will be able to see it's not about the Iranian Yogurt as long as you set up the relationship well.

Currently, I am writing a story where Uileac and his sister Cerie go to rescue Uileac's husband, Orrinir. On the way there, Uileac idly comments on how he wonders where a waterfall comes from because he's trying to distract himself from thinking about the fact that his husband is kidnapped and possibly dead.

Cerie, being pretty wound up too, starts arguing with him about it because she's like "why is this relevant? We're kind of too busy to think about geology right now!" Uileac gets annoyed at her for being so aggro, and she gets annoyed at him for being so irreverent. Both of them are upset about something completely different, but they're too scared and panicked to actually address that, so they release their frustrations by complaining about waterfalls.

Those bad vibes have to go somewhere, but neither of them are very good at talking about their feelings (though very good at stuffing them down). As such, they take the pressure off by sniping at one another. You've probably done this too, when you get into a dumb argument about something absolutely pointless because there's something you don't feel strong enough to discuss.

There's also the fact that if you're mad at someone about something but feel it's too stupid or petty to discuss, that frustration will leak out and everything else they do will annoy you, leading to a bunch of irrelevant arguments.

Use "reaffirmation" gestures

I talked about this in a different post, but after an argument, the "make up" stage doesn't always involve going "ohhh I forgive you" and big hugs and kisses, especially when the two characters aren't emotionally mature.

Instead, Character A makes gestures that reaffirm the relationship. This could be offering to do something Character B needs, making plans for later, or changing the topic to discuss something the other character cares about ("how are your cats doing?") etc.

Note that these "reaffirmation" gestures aren't the same as the cycle of abuse. This is more when two characters have had a difficult emotional conversation but aren't really sure how to continue being emotionally open, so they revert to something safer that still shows they care. They're not over-the-top gestures either, but more a special attention to something the other person loves. Knowing what the other person loves also demonstrates the depth of their relationship.

As always, I can't tell you what to do with your writing.

You are the crafter of your own story, and if you want people to talk like therapists for whatever reason, that's your choice. However, we want characters to feel like real people, and most real people don't lay it all out on the table every single time they're upset. If they do, they might be trauma vomiting, which is icky in and of itself.

Healthy communication isn't always perfect communication. People can have strong, loving relationships and still get things wrong - we're human. Having people calmly and rationally and easily talk about their feelings every single time is not only kind of boring, but it also feels weird, because unless we're primed to discuss those difficult topics and know we're perfectly safe, we're not going to do that.

People don't even do that in therapy, where they are paying for the service of talking about their feelings! Therapists also don't always do that IRL!

We're humans, and your characters need to feel like humans as well. That means letting them be imperfect communicators and using context clues rather than making them do all the work for the reader.

If you liked my advice, consider purchasing my book, 9 Years Yearning, for $3!

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