#but she would look for opportunities like these

[count-on-mi]

Mommy's little boy Part 4 (Dahyun)

Y/N: So finally I have sometime to translate a fic, I have trimmed down some parts so it would not be too lenghty. Incest fic with Mommy Dahyun, and even make her pregrant, enjoy!

Dahyun is a single mother. Her husband passed away from illness many years ago, leaving her and her young son to rely on each other.

Since her husband passed away, Dahyun has been missing him every day. However, to raise her son to adulthood, she has to work tirelessly to earn money to support the family. In the dead of night, Dahyun often tosses and turns in bed, unable to fall asleep, and her physical desires rise accordingly. But she doesn't dare casually find a man to satisfy her physical needs, fearing it might cast a shadow and impact her son's growth.

At times like this, Dahyun can only rely on her own hands to relieve her physical needs. She would quietly turn off the room lights, take off her underwear, gently rub the two rosy spots on her chest with her hands, then reach down to the already muddy little hole, inserting and withdrawing her fingers until she reached climax.

But such self-satisfaction always leaves one feeling empty and lost; Dahyun longs for a real embrace to lean on. She has never been able to take that step out of consideration for her son.

However, what Dahyun did not expect was that unbeknownst to her, her son was secretly developing unusual feelings for her. Whenever she was alone in her room "entertaining herself," there was always a pair of burning eyes outside the door, closely watching her every move.

The voyeur was none other than her son—me. Ever since Dad passed away, I have been secretly watching over everything about Mom. I watched as my mother gradually became thinner, knowing that she was very lonely. One time, I accidentally stumbled upon my mother in the act of masturbation, awakening something within me. From then on, I often hid outside the door when my mother was unaware, secretly watching her private actions, and even masturbated while watching.

Dahyun was completely unaware of this and continued to live her ordinary life every day. But she didn't know that the embrace she longed for day and night was right beside her.

As time went by, my desire for my mother grew increasingly rampant. I was not satisfied with just peeking from outside the door; instead, I started stealing my mother's underwear to comfort myself.

Whenever my mother was not home, I would sneak into her room and open the wardrobe to look for her worn clothes. I would pick up her wore but unwashed bra, inhale the lingering scent deeply, and then put it on my erect penis to rub against it.; Or take a pair of silk panties that mom wore but haven't been washed yet, wrap them around my cock, and jerk off like crazy. Imagining that this is Mom's little hole swallowing my cock, I always quickly reached climax.

Sometimes when Mom is at home, I pretend to accidentally drop something on the floor, taking the opportunity to quickly glance at Mom's legs while bending down to pick it up, sneaking a peek at the color and style of Mom's underwear. If she is putting on a new pair of underwear, I will specifically choose that one to use the next time I steal underwear.

In addition to stealing underwear, I also started secretly filming videos of my mother masturbating with my phone. One time, I heard strange sounds coming from my mother's room. I quietly opened the door and saw Dahyun lying on the bed with her legs spread apart, one hand kneading her breasts and the other moving rapidly in her vagina. That scene made my blood boil, and I immediately took out my phone and started recording my mother's private parts. In the video, it is clearly visible that Mom's pink labia are being spread open, fingers going in and out, the sound of water is continuous, and her expression gradually becomes more and more lustful.

From then on, whenever Mom was alone, I would take the opportunity to secretly film her naked. I have already collected countless videos of my mother during her orgasms, which I can watch and masturbate anytime, anywhere.

Dahyun was completely unaware of all this and continued to live her monotonous life day after day. She never imagined that her closest son would develop such perverse desires towards her.

I could no longer bear the desire that had been suppressed in my heart for many years. One day during dinner, I suddenly said to Dahyun, "Mom, I have something to tell you."

Dahyun looked at me with some surprise, thinking I had gotten into trouble at school again. "Y/N, what's wrong? Did the teacher make you stand in the corner again?"

"No, Mom. I want to tell you that my feelings for you... are a bit complicated."

Dahyun paused for a moment, then smiled and said, "What do kids know about love? The most important thing for you right now is to study hard."

"Not at all!" I suddenly became agitated, stood up, and took off my pants, revealing a thick, erect penis. "My feelings for you, Mom, are not just simple affection! I know you've been lonely all these years, just like I have! Every time you're alone in your room, I stand outside, staring at your body, wanting to possess you, to touch you, to give you true pleasure!"

Dahyun stared at me in disbelief; my words had completely shattered her worldview. She never expected her son to have such taboo feelings for her. "Y/N! What are you talking about? I'm your mother, how can you have such thoughts about me?!"

"But I can't help it, Mom! Every night, I think about your masturbation and watch videos of you to climax. I know it's wrong, but I just can't control myself!" I gripped my penis and moved it up and down, my eyes fixed on Dahyun's body. "Mom, I know you're lonely too. Why can't we satisfy each other? “I will make you experience unprecedented pleasure..."

"Enough!" Dahyun angrily interrupted me, turned around, rushed back to her room, and locked the door. She lay on the bed, crying uncontrollably, feeling deeply guilty for having ignored her son's emotional changes all these years. At the same time, she felt deeply fearful and uneasy about her son's thoughts.

The next morning, Dahyun woke up early as usual to prepare breakfast for me. I came downstairs to the dining room, and as soon as I sat down, I pulled one of Dahyun's hands and placed it on my lap.

"Mom, please reconsider what I said last night.” I know this sounds crazy, but for so many years I've been suppressing my feelings for you, and now I really can't stand it anymore. As long as you are willing to give me a chance, I will make you feel an unprecedented pleasure..."

Dahyun was so scared she almost jumped up, hurriedly pulling her hand away. "Y/N! What are you doing? I'm your biological mother! How can we do such a thing!"

"Mom, listen to me..." I reached out and gently pulled Dahyun closer to me, then hugged her tightly. "I know this is hard to accept, but don't you really want to experience it? “You’ve been through so much alone all these years; I can't bear to see you continue living in such loneliness. Believe me, you will find true happiness with me..."

Dahyun struggled desperately but couldn't escape my embrace. She looked at her son in terror, this child she had loved and cared for since I was little, now harbouring such wicked thoughts towards her.

"Y/N, wake up! We are mother and son, doing such things is against moral ethics! Even if you don't understand these principles now because you are still young, you will regret what you did today when you grow up!"

"No, Mom. I am already an adult now, I can take responsibility for my actions. And you should indulge yourself once, experience the true pleasure of sex..."

I said this as I began to kiss Dahyun's cheeks and neck, my hands restlessly roaming over her body. Dahyun only felt a wave of dizziness, her whole body weakly collapsing into her son's embrace.

"Don't... Y/N... let go of me... I'm your mother... we can't do this..."

"Shh..." I once again took Dahyun's hand and placed it on my throbbing member. "Mom, look, my cock has become so big. It's craving your comfort. Do you know how much I crave your body? Every time I watch you in the bathroom, I can't help but imagine how beautiful and captivating your naked body is. Why don't we give in to our inner desires and try a taboo relationship just this once?

Dahyun felt her son's palm as hot as a branding iron, tightly gripping her small hand and sliding it along my shaft. My penis is so huge that it almost swallows her entire hand. She never thought her son would develop such a huge thing; it was simply beyond her comprehension.

As her palm rubbed, a surge of heat quickly surged into Dahyun's brain, causing her to involuntarily let out a soft gasp. She hadn't tasted the pleasures of the flesh in a long time, and her lower body was gradually becoming moist.

“Oh my... my son's manhood... so thick and strong... if only it could come inside... how pleasurable it would be...”

Dahyun's cheeks flushed, her reason gradually being eroded by her body's desires. Although she still felt resistance in her heart, she couldn't stop herself from fantasizing and desiring her son's penis. This kind of taboo thought made her feel incredibly ashamed, yet it also brought an inexplicable excitement.

"Mom, I'm waiting for your answer... Are you really not willing to give me a chance to satisfy your needs? I will make you experience unprecedented pleasure... trust me..."

Her son's whispers echoed in her ears, and Dahyun's body trembled suddenly. She knew she had already been captivated by her son's words. Reason told her she shouldn't agree to such a request, but desire kept tempting her.

Dahyun is still struggling with whether to give in to her son's desires, with reason and desire waging a fierce battle in her heart. Her son's penis was simply too sexy and alluring; its hot, firm touch made it hard for her to resist. But as a mother, how could she do something so morally wrong?

I was unaware of the conflict in my mother's heart; I was only focused on enjoying the sensual scene before me. I vigorously kneaded Dahyun's round breasts and erected nipples, feeling their elasticity and softness in my hands. I then turned to knead Dahyun's full, perky buttocks, my fingers sliding between the two fleshy cheeks.

“Ah... so comfortable... Mom's body is truly perfect... I can finally possess you... I'm going to thoroughly enjoy your body...”

I was extremely excited, and my actions became bolder and bolder. However, I overlooked a fact—I was just a newly adult young man who had no idea how to control my strength. My rough touches and pinches left Dahyun's body marked with red, making her cry out in pain.

"Ah... Y/N... be gentler... you're hurting me..."

Dahyun twisted her body trying to escape, only to find herself in an even deeper predicament. Her son's rough caresses, though somewhat painful, were also igniting her desires. She unconsciously began to stroke my penis with her hand, the thick and powerful sensation igniting her desire.

“Ah... I can't take it anymore... I want more... I want my son's cock...”

Dahyun's rationality had long been thrown out the window; she was immersed in the ultimate pleasure brought by her son.

I was brought to the peak of pleasure by Dahyun's sudden actions, almost reaching climax immediately. I stopped moving, and took a deep breath to calm myself down. 

"Mom... have you finally decided to give in to my desires?" 

Dahyun lowered her head in shame, unable to meet her son's questioning gaze. "I... I don't know... I shouldn't have agreed... but I... I just couldn't control myself... Your cock is just too sexy and alluring... it's hard for me to resist..."

I was overjoyed, grabbing Dahyun and kissing her deeply on the lips. "Mom... I knew you would also be entranced by my cock... Let's start today... Let me take good care of you..." After saying this, I couldn't wait to tear off Dahyun's clothes, revealing her snow-white body. I eagerly licked and kissed the two rosy points on Dahyun's chest, then continued down, biting her lower abdomen and thighs.

“Ah... son... slow down... don't be so impatient...”

Dahyun gently pushed my shoulder, trying to stop my overly rough attack. However, I seemed completely lost in Dahyun's beautiful body, ignoring her resistance. I forcefully spread Dahyun's thighs, revealing her most secret garden.

“Mom... I can't wait any longer... I want to possess you right now...”

I pressed my cock against Dahyun's clits, preparing to insert it. Dahyun suddenly woke up and grabbed my wrist.

"Wait... I... I can't do this... this is just too wrong..."

"Mom... please... just let me have you this once... just this once... I promise I won't bring it up again in the future..."

I rubbed my penis against Dahyun's labia, trying to make her give up her last resistance.

Dahyun had already turned into a puddle under her son's onslaught, her reason no longer able to hold out. "Alright... just this once... you must never bring it up again..."

Hearing Dahyun's consent, I was overjoyed as if I had struck a treasure, I quickly spread Dahyun's thighs and thrust into her hardly.

"Ah!!" Dahyun moaned loudly, her son's huge cock penetrated directly to the deepest point, and her vagina was completely filled. "Y/N...be gentle...it's too big for me..."

"Mom...it feels so good...you're so tight inside...I'm going to move..."

I said and began to thrust hard, my thick cock tumbling inside Dahyun's body. Dahyun was knocked wildly by me, and she lost all reason for a moment. She could only instinctively follow the rhythm and move her waist to suit me.

"Hmm...ah...Junhao...so powerful...you penetrate so deeply...I'm about to be fucked by you..."

Dahyun's eyes were blurred, and she kept moaning incoherently. She had never thought that incest with her son would bring such intense pleasure as if her whole body was about to melt.

I was even more excited when I heard my mother's moans, and my movements became more and more wild.

I listened to my mother's moans, becoming even more excited, my movements growing wilder.

"Ah... Mom... it feels so good... you're so tight inside... I can't take it anymore..."

My breathing became heavier, and my pace quickened. I no longer cared about any techniques of shallow or deep thrusts, only thinking about fiercely possessing Dahyun's body.

Dahyun quickly intervened, "Y/N... slow down... if you go too fast, you'll cum quickly... we finally have this opportunity... you need to try to prolong it..."

However, how could I, who was experiencing sex for the first time, possibly hold back? I was already too deeply enchanted by Dahyun's body and just wanted to reach the climax as soon as possible. I increased the intensity of my thrusts, each one hitting deep inside Dahyun.

"Ah... Mom... I can't take it anymore... I'm going to cum..."

My cock throbbed inside Dahyun, releasing thick streams of semen that filled her vagina for the first time.

"Oh... Y/N... why did you finish so quickly..."

Dahyun helplessly watched as her son pulled out his softening member, a stream of white semen flowing from her open entrance.

"I'm sorry, Mom... I'm just too excited... It's too exciting to do this with you for the first time... I will try to keep longer next time..."

I lowered my head in shame. I originally thought I was well prepared, but I didn't expect to be conquered so easily by Dahyun's alluring body.

"It doesn't matter... This time we finally got what we wanted... You don't have to worry too much about time... We will have many opportunities in the future..."

Seeing that I was a little disappointed, Dahyun couldn't help but feel pity. She sat up, holding my cock with one hand, and wrapped her other hand around my neck and pulled me towards her.

"Good boy... don't be discouraged... we still have time... let mommy teach you now..."

Dahyun took my softened cock into her mouth and sucked it carefully. I felt a familiar feeling of pleasure return and couldn't help but let out a comfortable cry.

"Mom...your mouth feels so comfortable...I'm getting hard again..."

Dahyun glanced up at me with a look of satisfaction in her eyes. She sped up her swallowing speed, sometimes swiping the crown with the tip of her tongue.

"Hmm... um... right there... a little deeper... yes... it feels so good..."

My cock became engorged and swollen again under Dahyun's service, even thicker and more powerful than before.

"Mom...I'm going to insert it..."

I pulled out my cock from Dahyun's mouth, eagerly spread her legs and inserted it again. Dahyun's vagina was filled with my huge penis at once, and the pleasure immediately overwhelmed her.

"Ah...it's too big...Y/N...slow down..."

However, I have been blinded by desire at this moment. How can I care about slow progress? I thrust in and out widely, hitting the deepest part of Dahyun hard with every thrust.

"Mom...I finally have you again...It feels so good inside you...I want to fuck you to death...

Dahyun was fascinated by her son's almost violent offensive, but she knew that she could not let me go on like this, otherwise, I would soon end early again. So Dahyun tapped my shoulder to signal me to stop.

"Y/N... you are too impatient... we still have a long time to enjoy... now you just insert it into me like this... let mommy teach you some new tricks..."

Dahyun stretched out her hand to knead her breasts, her eyes drifting to me: "Look at my hands... caress my nipples like this... They are very sensitive... you can lick, bite and suck... but You must be gentle...otherwise it will hurt..."

I followed Dahyun's instructions and leaned down to kiss her breasts gently. I teased the pink nipples with the tip of my tongue, pursed my lips lightly, sometimes sucked and sometimes licked.

"Yes...that's it...then you have to thrust your cock inside me in small strokes...don't use too much force...this way it can last longer..."

I did as I was told, and my cock squirmed inside Dahyun like a snake, each squeeze bringing a new level of pleasure.

"Ah...Y/N...you are so good...just like this...slowly enjoy your mother's body..."

Dahyun closed her eyes and concentrated on feeling the pleasure brought by her son. My lips and tongue moved around her body, like a slippery little snake; while my cock pumped rhythmically inside her body, like a posing enchantress. The combination of the two brought her unprecedented bliss.

Dahyun felt my tongue getting farther and farther away from her nipples, as if I was exploring other parts of himself. She knew it was a good start, but it wasn't enough.

"Here... try playing with my breasts with your hands... just like what I did before... but with gentle pressure... I can get hurt easily..."

Dahyun takes my hand and guides me to move around her breasts. My warm palms gently pressed her breasts, and then used my fingers to draw circles around the nipples.

"Um...yeah...a little harder...and squeeze it between your thumb and forefinger..."

I did as I was told, and Dahyun's nipples quickly hardened in my hands. I seemed to find it very novel, caressing Dahyun's breasts in different ways, sometimes squeezing and sometimes rubbing.

"Ah...you learn so fast...it's so comfortable...now put your hands on my waist...grab my hips..."

Dahyun taught me how to grasp her ass cheeks and then ordered me to thrust in and out of her.

"Now feel free to do whatever you want... Just remember not to use too much force... Let Mom guide you for the rest..."

After I got the right to express myself freely, I was immediately excited. I kneaded Dahyun's breasts into various shapes and dug my fingers deeply into them; at the same time, I thrust deeply into Dahyun's body, and each thrust hit her deepest part.

"Mom...your body is so sexy...I want to possess you forever...never stop..."

Dahyun couldn't help but smile after hearing this. This young child finally truly understood the wonder of sex.

I attacked every inch of Dahyun's skin tirelessly, and her pleasure gradually accumulated to its peak. Suddenly, an electric feeling rose from her spine and spread throughout her body.

"Ah——! I'm about to cum...!"

Dahyun hugged my back tightly, her whole body trembling. I also felt the vibration in Dahyun's body and knew that I had brought her an unparalleled climax.

"Mom... Your insides are tightening like spasms... Your orgasm is so wonderful... I'm about to cum too..."

Dahyun immediately stopped him after hearing this: "No...Y/N...we have more new tricks to try...change your position...let mom kneel in front of you like a doggy...then you start from Come in from behind...that kind of perspective will make you feel particularly exciting..."

Dahyun turned around and kneeled with a blushing face, raising her butt high and waiting for me to enter.

"Y/N... come on... fuck mom hard... like a pussy..."

Junhao was immediately excited and penetrated Dahyun from behind with his still-hard cock.

"Ah...this perspective is so exciting...Mom, your body is so sexy...I want to fuck you..."

I thrust violently, making Dahyun's ass crack with each thrust.

Dahyun thought that the doggy-style perspective would make me more excited, but she didn’t expect that her son’s favourite thing was her buttocks. When I lay on her back and kept thrusting, Dahyun felt extremely ashamed.

"Ah...Y/N...don't slap my butt so hard...it hurts..."

Dahyun begged, but I couldn't stop at all. I galloped across the grassland like a wild horse, slamming into Dahyun's ass again and again.

"Mom...your ass is so sexy...I just like to see it swaying in front of my eyes...listening to the slapping sound is so exciting..."

My hands kept slapping Dahyun's butt, leaving a red mark. Dahyun's face turned red with embarrassment, but she had to admit that this method really made me more excited.

"Y/N...Mom knows you like this...but please be gentle...it will really hurt..."

Dahyun twisted and tried to avoid my slap but was firmly held by me again. I increased the speed, thrusting as deep as possible with each stroke, and slapped Dahyun's ass hard.

"Ahhhh——! I can't help it...you're too fierce...I can't stand it anymore...please be gentle..."

Dahyun couldn't help but scream, her sanity had been completely destroyed by my crazy behaviour. She could only let her son do whatever he wanted behind her and hoped that the storm would pass as soon as possible.

Dahyun's words only aroused my animal nature. I roared like a beast and kept thrusting behind Dahyun. Dahyun could only keep begging for mercy, but her begging became my best aphrodisiac.

"Ah... don't... you're too big... I really can't stand it anymore... please stop..."

Dahyun cried, her body shaking. I, however, acted as if I couldn't understand the human words, and instead intensified my efforts, thrusting harder and deeper into Dahyun every time.

"Mom...you are so sexy...I love the sound of your cries...you should lie down in front of me like a dog...let me fuck as the way I like..."

I said and slapped Dahyun's butt hard again, leaving a red stain. Dahyun let out a cry of pain, but she also felt an unprecedented pleasure.

"Ah... no... don't... but I feel so good... this feeling is so weird..."

Dahyun was so ashamed that she never thought that one day she would be fucked like a bitch by her son, and she felt extremely excited. I also felt the tightening and throbbing inside Dahyun, knowing that she was about to climax again.

"Ah... I'm going again... Y/N... please be gentle..."

Dahyun cried out, her body arching involuntarily. Her vagina spasmed violently, wrapping my cock tightly.

Dahyun's vagina bit down on my cock, making me immediately on the verge of ejaculation.

"Mom... Your pussy is about to pinch me off... I'm going to cum inside... Let me cum inside you... give birth to my baby..."

I roared softly as I made the final sprint. My words made Dahyun even more ashamed, but she was already blinded by sexual desire and could not think about ethical issues.

"Hmm...Y/N...come on...cum inside mom...let mom give birth to a baby for you..."

Dahyun agreed softly. She never thought that one day she would be eager to be creampied by her son, and she even agreed to give birth to a child for him. But at this moment, she just wants me to be released in her body, so that she can reach a higher level of bliss.

Hearing that my mother agreed to give birth to me, I was so excited that I finally reached the peak after dozens of frantic thrusts.

"Ahhhh——! I am cumming! All of it inside you! Make you pregnant!"

I let out a low growl of satisfaction and cummed all my seed deep into Dahyun's womb. Dahyun was also stimulated to orgasm again and again by the scalding heat. Her vagina contracted violently, tightly wrapping her son's cock, as if she wanted to squeeze out every drop of semen inside.

"Oh...god...so much...I'm really going to get pregnant..."

Dahyun said absently that she no longer cared about the consequences and now only wanted to enjoy this ultimate pleasure.

Since the accident, the relationship between Dahyun and me has become closer and closer. At first, Dahyun still had some concerns, fearing that my body would if I ejaculated too many times a day. But she soon discovered that her son's energy was too amazing.

On the first morning after that day, when Dahyun got up, she saw me standing naked in front of the bed. The giant thing under my crotch was already erect and covered with bright morning dew.

"Mom...you wake up...I want you again..."

I smiled and climbed onto the bed, spread Dahyun's thighs with ease, and thrust myself into them.

"Ah...you're here again...didn't it just end..."

Dahyun was a little helpless, but she quickly indulged in the pleasure. Although my speed was not fast, I penetrated deeply every time, and Dahyun soon had a second orgasm.

"Mom...I love you...you are my little evil...I can't get enough..."

I murmured, speeding up and thrusting inside Dahyun again.

This is a portrayal of the mother and son's life day after day. Dahyun was a little resistant at first, but was soon impressed by my love words and skills. Now as long as I am horny, Dahyun will open the door to welcome my invasion. She uses her body to teach me the secrets of sex, and I use my cock to repay Dahyun's generosity.

Sex between us takes up most of their lives. Dahyun's vagina has become my exclusive toy, waiting for my use at any time.

I soon moved into Dahyun's room to stay overnight, and we had sex all the time. When cooking in the kitchen, Dahyun would suddenly lift her skirt to expose her wet pussy, allowing me to penetrate her directly from behind; when taking a bath, Dahyun would kneel in the bathtub and give me a blow job until I couldn't help but erupt in her mouth. So far; when eating dinner, Dahyun accidentally touched my leg, I would grab Dahyun's hand and guide it to my crotch, and then push Dahyun down on the sofa; when watching TV, Dahyun would sit on my lap and move by herself, until my mood comes, we changes to the normal position. The lives of us have been completely filled with sex. No matter when and where, as long as one of us is sexually excited, the other party will cater to it.

No matter where we are, as long as one of them proposes to "fuck until mommy gets pregnant" the two of us will be particularly excited. I will also ejaculate more and thicker semen, filling Dahyun's vagina to the brim.

The tacit understanding between mother and son is also getting better and better. Dahyun knows where my most sensitive parts are, and how to stimulate me to reach climax faster; she also knows how to control her body posture and rhythm, so that she can reach multiple orgasms and prolong my ejaculation time.

Once, Dahyun deliberately rode her hips on the bed and played with my scrotum, which made me only last five minutes before exploding inside her. Another time, Dahyun adopted the method of "nine shallow and one deep", slowly guiding me to rush inside the body, allowing Junhao to enjoy the sex for an entire hour.

Dahyun has mastered these techniques to such an extent that she knows how to drive me into ecstasy and madness. Dahyun is already familiar with where my sensitive points are. As long as she wants, she can make me stay in her pussy for a long time. But seeing I struggling to cum inside her body, she would always soften her heart and let me wreak havoc in her deepest parts.

Dahyun soon became pregnant with my child as I creampied her as frequently as a stallion. Faced with this unexpected result, Dahyun was a little overwhelmed - she had to admit the fact that she and her son were incest and faced social condemnation. But just when she was hesitant, my idea once again made her indulge in physical desires.

"Mom, since you are already pregnant with my child, let's take this opportunity to play some new tricks! I can fuck you and suck your milk at the same time!"

I suggested with a smile, while untying Dahyun's clothes, burying my head on her breasts and nibbling.

"Ah...you little...you are so full of tricks..."

Dahyun hummed softly, stretched out her hand to hold my head, and took the initiative to put her breast into my mouth.

"Mommy's milk must be so sweet...I'm going to suck you dry...and keep fucking you...until our child is born..."

I said vaguely, sucking harder with my lips and tongue.

Under the temptation of my big cock, Dahyun was quickly overcome by desire. She no longer thinks about her child's future, nor does she care about the outside world's opinions. The only thing she wants now is to have intense sex with her son until she faints.

So, with a burst of rapid breathing, Dahyun held my head tightly and allowed me to explore between her breasts. I slipped my fingers into Dahyun's vagina, stirring inside, preparing for the next wild sex.

Under my strong request, Dahyun resigned from the company on the grounds of concentrating on childbirth. In fact, her purpose in doing this was just to give me more time and space to fuck his mother.

Due to the changes in hormone levels during pregnancy, Dahyun's sexual desire is stronger than before, and she is becoming more and more addicted to my big cock. Except when going to the toilet, my penis always remained inside her.

Whether in the dining room or living room or even on the balcony and bathroom, every corner of the home left traces of our intense intercourse. The gurgling juices and milky white semen mixed together, soaking most of the room.

Dahyun lay on the dining table with her butt raised high, allowing me to thrust violently from behind. Her top had been torn off, and her round breasts were exposed to the air, swaying with the impact from behind.

"Hmm... it's too deep... My boy ... you are always so rough... you're going to break mommy..."

Dahyun bit the corner of her lip, reached up to her chest with one hand to rub the erect nipples, and reached down with the other hand to rub the engorged clits.

"Mom, don't you like being fucked bad by me? You said you want our child to be filled with my big cock until he is born..."

I growled, speeding up his sprint.

My penis moved in and out of Dahyun's vagina like a tamping machine. Every time I inserted it, a large amount of nectar would flow out down the top of her thighs. Dahyun's delicate labia has long been red and swollen from being fucked, but she still tirelessly swallows my huge cock.

"Yes...let's let our baby feel...how it forms in mom's pussy...ahh...going to cum..."

Dahyun raised her head, her eyes blurred, and a wanton moan escaped from her mouth.

My movements became more and more fierce. I grabbed Dahyun's waist, pressed her against the table and thrust her hard, and every time I penetrated her to the deepest point. Dahyun's body began to convulse, and a warm juice surged out of her body, soaking my lower body.

"Ha...it's so hot...Mommy's climax...I'm almost there too ..."

I gritted my teeth, and after the last few deep thrusts, I also cummed a large amount of semen, filling Dahyun's womb.

Dahyun lay weakly on the table, her legs trembling, and the clothes underneath her were completely soaked with water and semen. I pulled out my cock which is still hard, it was covered in the mixture that belonged to both of us.

"You're so beautiful...Mom...I can never get enough of you..."

I leaned down and kissed Dahyun's sweaty back.

Dahyun chuckled, turned around and kissed me back.

"Me too...my son...you are the one who really makes me happy.”

[simp-ly-writes]

Hope in a Bottle

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Pairing: AU!Silco x Reader

─ · · SUMMARY: You had died many years ago, or at least that was true in Silco's world. He had learned to live without you but when graced with the opportunity to see you once again- he can't help but indulge.

─ · · TAGS: gender-neutral pronouns, ANGST (but no seriously there are no happily ever afters), some fluff/comforting moments, suggestive themes.

─ · · MASTERLIST | TAGLIST REQUEST | WORDCOUNT: 2,668

─ · · A/N: I cried like at least four times when writing this, this show HAS ME IN A CHOKEHOLD.

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Silco often thought about you in passing moments. These moments he remembered sharing with you amongst your friends and in the comfort of your arms used to be coated in blue that he would drown and surround himself in; but as your presence forever lingered in his mind blue turned to pink and rose-tinted glasses glossed over every moment- every memory with a certain degree of fondness that he would catch himself smiling even when no one was in the room.

You would always manage to light up the room, tell him a joke when he needed it most, told him off and raised him up. He put so much of himself into you into your presence that when you left... it was like he had to redefine who he was but forever remained unsuccessful.

Silco learned to live without you physically but that did not mean that your jacket was still not waiting for your return on the back of his couch or your glass still half-filled by the bedside. Your chair at the bar was always kept at the back, awaiting your return as you both shared kisses in the storage room. He would always remember how the stained glasses reflected in your eyes, the colour breaking across your skin in a forever radiant presence just like you.

Vander would catch Silco in these moments when wiping down the bar top or taking a walk down by the Zaun bay, overlooking the artificial lights and hints of sunlight being cast upon the black waters. Watching as the mans hand opened and tensed before falling back down to his side.

"You doing alright there. brother?" Vander asked in a soft tone as they both crossed over to topside for the day. Silco looked up, a strand of his hair falling from his salt and pepper hair- blowing with the wind. "We are always alright in the hope to be better, and when we get better we hope for it to stay only to be alright once again; stuck in the cycle of it all I find myself on the better side today."

Vander hums along to Silco's words as they stop at the various market stalls to see their offerings a few new bottles for the bar from another region across the sea and a bag of sweets for the kids in the area. The men are suddenly greeted with another body stepping in between the two and falling inline with their pace.

"And how are we doin'?" Powder asks with a wide smile, trying to squeeze her arms together to encompass both of their sides before turning around to walk backwards and hold conversation.

Silco winces as Power almost misses lamp post after lamp post by mere millimetres. "We are fine, just about to make our way back home actually. Anywhere your headed, young lady?" Silco teases, his voice sharing sincerity in every syllable.

Powder rolls her eyes before turning back around, head tilting over her shoulder before she disappears back amongst the crowd, "Going to see this new invention Echo has been telling me about!" Vander shakes his head with a loving stare where Powder had just stood.

"She's going to change the world one day, you know?" Vander says to the wind, hoping that it catches her ears but it only does Silcos.

"I'm afraid she already has for she is your own world," Silco comments, placing a hand on his friends shoulder before powering forwards. "I hate it when your always right," Vander teases before taking two long strides to catch back up.

"Well I perfected it only from the best." Both mens minds go directly back to you, smiling and twirling in the bar to a new record you had found on the topside. Somehow you had already known all the lyrics after this being your supposed first time listening to the piece.

"They always knew, huh," Vander says, looking down to catch Silco small smile. "Yes, but not everything I wanted them to..."

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When back in Zaun and at The Last Drop, bar-goers had already flooded the decorated space for tomorrow night it would be the inventions fair, a bar local already chosen to set the mood for the night and a few university members stationed with scholarships in mind.

Both Vander and Silco were excited to witness the extraordinary kids they knew have the opportunity to show their talents to others and hopefully the collective dream of them changing the world would come true but fate always had to make its presence known in the doorway.

Blue sparkled out of the corner of Silco's eye as he leaned against the bar top waiting to continue his conversation with Vander. A half eaten apple sat beside his notebook that he was picking away at while conducting the accounting for the month. His back burned with his age from being hunched over for so long as he stood up to stretch.

Laughs echoed throughout the bar, feet dancing against the wooden plank floors, drinks clashing and spilling against the tables as another gets thrown out the side door. Powder had left a few moments ago with Echo, a certain mischievous look in her eye that Silco did not find unusual at the time would only shock his system now when he caught from reflection in the glass of his amber filled cup.

Your name graced his lips, remembering the feel, imaging your warmth against his skin and to feel it, to see it. He thought to be surreal, to be going senile as he looked to Vander for support and only found him smiling with a wink before turning back around to serve another customer.

Your skin was a thousand colours coming to life in his eyes, his hand drifting from the back of your fingertips, up your arm to your shoulder, neck upon which you shiver and rest your forehead upon his own. "How I've missed you," words that he only hoped to hear, have only read to himself in comfort written by his own hand- a fantasy turned reality now spoken to truth between your very own lips that Silco had to claim.

You melted into his touch, decades without the familiarity- him haunting your body with memory of his touch now appearing as goosebumps in recognition. You smile against his lips, hand running up against the smooth fabric of his vest before lacing in the silver locks of his hair.

Out of breath, you both pant, hands still gripping one another tightly as if afraid the other would disappear once more. "I thought to have lost you, to be so alone for so long. Why is it now that you appear just when I was surviving once again off of scraps?" Silco asks into your ear, not wanting to break this moment between the two of you. Even when in a crowded bar, it is only the two of you present in this moment.

"I would ask myself the same questions when I came back alive thanks to the technology developed in my universe and by what force I have yet to know, I am forever thankful for returning me, my soul, back to you to rest finally," you speak through tears mixing with Silco's silent ones dripping down his cheekbones and falling against your clothes that stain the fabric dark.

"I should thank that force as well," Silco murmurs, lost in your eyes, brushing away your tears. "I think it best we have the rest of this conversation elsewhere," Silco grabs your hand before pulling you out of the bar. The cheers and claps becoming distant as he leads you back to his apartment.

He locks the door behind you both, watching as you gently let go of his hand and walk around his space. Your hand feels the leather of your jacket still sat in the same place where you left it, against the couch in a forgotten moment of need. You continue towards the kitchen, seeing the various crayon pictures of Violet and Powder attached to the fridge who Silco explained to you before walking towards the bedroom. Your glass still waiting for you beside an unopened bottle you remember gifting Silco for his birthday.

"Why did you never open it?" You ask, fingers tracing around the neck of the bottle coated in a layer of dust you blow from your fingertips. "You said not to open it without you there to try it, I kept to my promise in hope for an impossible day like today. It was a reminder of not to drain my hope as many other's do."

All you can do is nod before holding the bottle in between your hands, a sickness suddenly washes over you as you take in Silco's form leaning against the doorframe. His arms crossed, leg tucked over the other and the scar of his yellow eye glowing warmly- lighting up the room amongst the candles.

He expects you to open the bottle, you understand that in doing so means you are to stay but that is something you cannot do. Not when Echo and the Professor are building a time-machine, not when your world is about to erupt in ruins.

You want nothing more to indulge more than you already had into this word of perfection and wrongs written right but that would be a cruelty brought upon this world. You knew you shouldn't have gone up to him, kissed him, felt his skin upon you skin only to take it away like the hopes of everyone else who had died during this war.

But you were only human, your heart already shattered and in need of repair, of warmth and kindness but you would only be selfish just as much as those you were out to strike down. "I-I can't open the bottle Silco. I-" you start to sob, hands shaking before placing the bottle back upon the nightstand.

You bring your knees back up to your chest, breaths heavy as your head spins, blood starting to drip down your nose, the reflection of blue out of the corner of your eyes as you gripping the sheets, knuckles turning white as Silco runs over, falling to his knees as he begs to see your face.

"Please, whatever is the matter, darling?" Silco asks, the sweetness of his tone doing nothing but to further indulge your nausea as you spiral. "I shouldn't have come to you, have done any of this!" You shout, trying to shove the man away but Silco only stands, wrapping his arms around your body as you do your best to kick and shove him away.

You look over his shoulder, watching as the sunsets through the window and sheer blinds. "Silco," you sob, fingers digging into the material of his vest once again in a panic rather than in reverence. "Silco, I'm so sorry. I'm so sorry that this was not forever, that this will only be another memory and perhaps the once that hurts the most knowing that I left rather than was forced to..."

"Then let me hurt, allow me to bleed, allow me to weep for I have endless time for that but only a finite time to be truly happy. So please, indulge me, drink it all and leave me once more with the knowledge that you are out there somewhere in another place, alive. Please, please," Silco begs turn into whispers as you press your tears into his neck before leaving a lingering kiss.

"Until the sunrise we shall be happy in the night," you speak softly in between kisses, your vision still clouded in tears.

"Until the sunrise," Silco restates before capturing your lips once more and sighing heavily. The moons bask ignites you both, lighting the liquid in your bodies burn as you take pleasure in one another.

You feel him, your hearts and souls connecting, rekindling in what is only to be heartbreak that makes you both press harder into one another. Leave marks across each others skin and kiss them delicately afterwards. It is in you both taking a bath afterwards until the cold waters have you both frozen still in realization as the sun rises and fills the room. Its warmth lost as you pick up your clothes and leave your jacket leaning against the couch once more.

You stare at the empty bottle at the bedside and watch as Silco picks it up and looks at you through it was a wavering smile. "Goodbye, my love and know that it was always you my soul yearns for and you who I define myself as."

"I really wish this didn't have to be the end, Silco...." you try your best not to sob, chocking on your words yet standing firm in your positions knowing that comforting one another would only make the hurt worse than it already was burning. "...in another life, I can see how easily we could have had it all- could have been happy."

"I wouldn't want any other memories than the ones we share," you nod in agreement, your body shakes, skin burns in want as you reach for the cold handle that sends shivers down your spine.

"Goodbye, Silco, I love you, forevermore."

"And I you."

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The walk to Jinx's place is a long and cold one, a thousand pairs of eyes stare at you with their condolences. You refuse to meet any of their stares, knowing that by just one look you would be running back into his arms for comfort.

Echo and Heimerdinger are already there and waiting for you, Echo extends his hand and lifts you up onto the platform. A swirl of arcane magic mixed fits the seeds of that all-too-familiar blue have you floating with a scream as the Professor sacrifices himself with one last salute to you both. Echo holds you, the loss of today holding heavy yet his touch is not what you yearn for as you cry into his jacket, gripping the collar of it as colours swirl around your vision and you are brought back to the battlefield once more.

Bullets wiz past your had, another graces your cheek as your blood falls like tears against the broken pavement. The roar of a monster rumbles the ground as you sprint towards the closing barriers, throwing yourself over them and into a sea of dead blue enforcers.

Screams haunt your ears, echoing distantly through your memories and brought forth into reality as you step over cast aside limbs and guns. You watch as Vi ahed of you holds another as they take their final breaths, a machine gun makes you loose hearing in your left ear and next thing you knew, a burning sensation was coming from your right leg where a ghastly wound had planted itself.

Hoisting and forcing yourself to stand you carry forth with a limp and defend the entrance, holding cover and watching as the trojan horse gets rolled in through the barriers all you can feel is Silco's marks as you charge forwards with an unrelenting cry.

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Silco fell back into the bed and stayed in that exact same numb position until Vander came to find him, "You know, there was a part of me debating weather or not to distract you from 'em and theres a part of me now that regrets not doin' so."

"It wouldn't have mattered anyways, the hurt of not seeing them when I got the chance to would have hurt just as much if not more. But I appreciate the sentiment, brother," Silco responds, rolling the cork of the bottle in between his thumb and finger.

"Finally drank it, huh?" Vander comments, picking up the bottle from the stand as gently as possible between his large hands. All Silco can do is smile, a singular tear dripping down his cheek that gets cast away, "yeah, something like that."

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─ · · A/N: so... what did y'all think?

[anyaskalliope]

Mel and Jayce Deserved Much Better

After experiencing horrors and walking through valleys and shadows, I truly hoped Mel would break down this season and unleash her emotions. Especially since she spent the entire season unlearning hardness with Jayce being so openly affectionate and emotional. This final act was honestly a slap in the face.

The one person she hoped would offer her that safety net to do this completely shuts her down. Mel was always cognizant of his feelings, constantly looking out for him, advising him, and teaching him. She shared with him her deepest insecurities and vulnerabilities. I can understand if Mel and Jayce are both going their separate ways because of the Noxus plot but to have him be this cold, and distant, and show a lack of understanding toward her plight is bizarre.

Mel comes back with a changed appearance and a different demeanor, and he doesn't even ask what happened. He seems to not care. Jayce isn't even giving her a chance to explain herself and just keeps coming at her and you can see the moment when Mel puts all her walls back up. Don't even get me started on the fact that he held the hammer in his hand for most of the time.

Their interactions during this act paint Jayce as one large hypocrite. He benefitted from all of Mel's teachings, from her providing comfort and affection, to her investments in Hextech. Asking her why she didn't save Viktor like she had something against him was wild.

This is the same Mel who offered comfort to Jayce when Viktor was severely injured during the explosion. The same Mel who immediately understood why Jayce left after their night together, recognized the importance of Viktor to Jayce.

If Mel could protect everybody in that room, she would. When she explains her lack of awareness of her abilities to him, he just keeps going on and on.

And the apology with the "passenger" line was just bad. It lacked a certain level of remorse that I would expect from Jayce of all people. Where is that good-hearted man who could tell when people aren't feeling their best, that person who always wanted to help people and make their lives better?

I think the Survivor Jayce is not the Jayce that Mel fell in love with, this is another man. The Jayce she fell in love with died at the bottom of that cave. The survivor Jayce is Viktor's passenger.

Jayce abandoned not just Mel but also his mother who protected him many times to be with Viktor in the afterlife?? In what universe is Jayce pulling that shit?

Now Mel's heading off to Noxus. A nation that doesn't align with her values and morals and would most likely have to harden herself to rule or have influence there. I hate it all. I hate that Black women always have to be strong. We actually had an opportunity to see a Black woman who grew up in that environment slowly shed those walls with a man who actually loved her and was openly affectionate and vulnerable. I'm so sad that it was taken from us. I'm sick and tired of the strong Black woman trope.

With how mischaracterized her motives and actions towards Jayce are, I for one cannot say that I'm excited for a spin-off series with Mel as a main character. Not with this writing team and this fandom.

To me, this show ended in season 1 with Zaun becoming independent, Jinx not firing the rocket, and Mel and Jayce growing together as individuals and as a couple.

[yeyinde]

I am binge reading your work and I love your Price characterisation so much! Can you please go into detail what you his childhood looked like and what led him to be this angry, stubborn man who is fixated on saving the world at all costs

this is basically a reinterpretation of opening Pandora's box but instead of releasing great evils, it's just me yapping non-stop about John Price whenever i get the opportunity. but i cut a lot out because it was getting too long, so this is a brief summary on what made John Price the way that he is;

re: abuse (physical, mental, emotional; of authoritative power).

Nepo-baby. Born into Military Royalty. The Price name has a lot of sway in the government. Probably lived in Hereford going up before moving to Liverpool at 18. Realistically, Price has no other career choices because I can't see Mr "threatens to hang superior officers" sitting in a cubical and expected to hit quotas without catching several charges for assault and battery when his temper gets the best of him. And it always does.

His homelife was bad (but absolutely nothing compared to Simon's). His dad was just a staunch disciplinarian groomed by the traditional values of 40s-60s England. The typical "father works to provide for his family all day and then comes home to quiet, respectable children neither seen nor heard with food already on the table waiting for him and a wife that only speaks when spoken to and only ever to agree with her husband (and a lil bit of female "orgasm"????? by god! they've brought witchcraft back to the land of her Majesty the Queen!)"

He has an angry, uncompromising father with a temper and a mother who says thinks like, "well if *you* didn't make him angry, then you wouldn't have gotten yourself a black eye."

His dad was very physically abusive to both of them. Price really tried to stick up for his mum, but that would just set his dad off even more. And afterwards, his mum would just side with his dad, anyway. But on the flipside, I think she expected Price to protect her. So when he didn't (because he's a literal child!!), she'd get angry. But she obviously can't lash out like her husband or even her child, so uses the only weapon she has to gain some semblance of control: manipulation.

Price takes pieces of both his parents. His father, the physical aggressor, and his mother, the manipulative victim. And she is a victim, very much so. But I also think she pits them against each other. Gets bored. Causes issues. But there's power in getting someone to do what you want, and that's how she takes hers.

Price catches on to her in his early teens, but that's still his mother. Even though they have a very rocky relationship, she's still the Victim in his head, even when she's whispering in his dad's ear about all the things she despises about her son. And then going to Price (after his dad does something about it - again: disciplinarian, control freak) and playing the pitiful mother subjected to her husband's tyranny and a sad, weak son who can't do a single thing to protect her when she needs him.

Price learns to manipulate from her. Emotional blackmail. Victim-complex. Gaslighting. Scapegoating. But the biggest takeaway is the way he shifts the victim-complex into heroism (esp with Gaz). They can't be the bad guys. It's a logical fallacy in his mind. They're the ones saving the world, and if the world wasn't so riddled with bad guys, with people who need projecting, then they wouldn't need to do what they do.

I think Price has a bit of animosity towards people he sees as weaker (re: his mum having to share the victimhood with her son). But this animosity can also rear as obsession. He's the only person who can save you/them/the world. And since you/they/the world can't save yourself, then you should just listen to him.

And if you don't. Well, that's going to be a pretty big problem.

Honestly on the fence about siblings. If he has any, it's probably an older sister and she's either the equivalent of Janice Soprano (minus any of the backbone and ambition) or Barbara, resigned to her life and utterly forgetful. but I kinda like the idea of him not having any siblings to weather the storm with, you know? Like, it's just him and a mother who victim blames and ignores, and he gets the brunt of his dad's anger.

He was an obnoxious kid to be around. Probably really tried to impress his dad by adopting all of his values; baby misogyny, bite-sized authoritarianism, military fiscalism/military–industrial complex, militarism, etc., before realising (earlyyyyy teens) that he hates his dad and everything he stands for (but I'm a SUCKER for letting Price suffer and I love cyclicity and generational trauma so naturally, as much as he tries to run from the ghost of his dad, it still lingers - just in different ways; the worst thing you could ever say to Price is, you're just like your father).

Turned into a moody teen in the 80s/90s. His anger is a hair trigger. Utterly uncontrollable. But by this time, he learned to hide it because his dad's way of idealing with trauma was to add more. Therapists are pseudoscience, so he taught Price that men just bury these things. And if you can't, then you should be put down like a dog.

The assessment of a man's character was entirely based on the military tests he passed. And with Price's anger, trauma, he probably shouldn't have passed the evaluations, but since his dad, his grandfather, his great-grandfather, were all military dogs, he learned how to beat it. He's also really good at manipulating people.

I think between 16-17 there was a real attempt to do something that wasn't the military and I haven't decided which one I like better but:

He gets a job (as a port worker or in a factory). The Price name has no sway here (and baby Price grew up surrounded by people who knew his family, who revered them for their service to the country, etc). If he wants to make it, it has to be by his own merit. The problem is, while he's a hard worker, his trauma (men who remind him of his father, women who are too much like his mother) causes an incredible rift between him and authority.

If his boss is a man just like his dad, then Price is a match in a tinderbox.

If he isn't, to Price (who has only just learned to hold his tongue), the idea of a nobody being in a position of power over him will also set him off.

Either way, he's doomed.

If he man is a beast that no one can stand up to, and gets away with things because he's the boss, then Price's temper would flare pretty quickly. Especially if he comes after Price. Bullies him. Belittles him. But the worst is the humiliation. He ends up beating his boss very badly, terrifying the men around him but in their fear, and how quickly they listen to him because of it, Price realises he likes it. That fear can be weaponized. Honed.

Or: same situation, but if you lean more towards Price looking out for the underdog rather than his own self-interest, then he sticks up for someone and beats his boss to protect them. Everyone's still afraid of him, but they revere him. They do what he asks. This version, he realises that respect can be weaponized.

(and if the man is not like his dad, then Price will antagonise him into action. He'd throw the first punch, and Price will retaliate. It would still go too far, but - Nepo baby, weaponized fear: the outcome would be the same.)

He gets taken into custody. The tell him his boss is not going to make it. But Price's dad exercises every ounce of power to get his son out of trouble (because this will look very bad on them), and Price leans several things which shape him as an adult: his name has a lot of power; rules and regulations and just policing won't stop bad people unless you take it into your own hands once and for all, and people listen to him and that either version of the above can be weaponized.

He'd probably take the military a bit more seriously but only because he's trying to get vengeance for himself (even if this is subconscious and he doesn't realise it). He leaves at 18. Joins. And climbs the ranks higher than his dad.

At first, there's a concerted effort to do good but something cracks. Builds. Eventually Price comes to the conclusion that he'll have to take a more hands-on approach and get them a little bloody if he wants real change.

I have a lot of thoughts of military-dog Price. But!! That's basically it.

Shaped by physical, mental, emotional abuse; leans into the poor rich kid trope slightly. It all manifests more when he climbs the ranks, gets freedom, and realises that only he can do what needs to be done.

[mrsfancyferrari]

My Priority

Summary: MV1 + "You're my priority." 🍂🦃

Song: i'm yours by Isabel LaRosa

Author’s note: Please like, reblog and share this! 🫶

Word count: 6.8k

The sun dipped low over the Monaco harbor, casting a golden hue over the sleek yachts and classic buildings. It was race weekend, and the atmosphere buzzed with excitement.

Fans adorned in vibrant team colors filled the streets, while the pit lanes prepared for the moment that would thrill millions around the globe.

Among the horde of dedicated supporters and high-profile personalities were three friends, caught in a whirlwind of competition and camaraderie: Max, Charles and Lando.

Today, he stood in the crowd, his eyes fixed on you—a talented influencer and recently appointed ambassador for the racing team.

With your effortless smile and magnetic personality, you effortlessly drew a gathering of admirers around you, signing autographs and taking cheerful selfies, your laughter ringing like music above the cacophony.

Charles and Lando, seated comfortably on a nearby bench, exchanged knowing glances as they watched Max, who seemed lost in a dreamy haze.

“Look at him,” Lando snickered, leaning back on his hands. “I swear he’s drooling.”

“Max, the biggest simp in Monaco,” Charles teased, suppressing a laugh. “He’s got those hearts in his eyes again.”

Max was clearly oblivious, completely entranced by your graceful presence. He didn’t just admire you; it was as though he had built a world around the very idea of you.

The way you spoke with your fans, how you listened to each story and responded with genuine interest—it captivated him.

“Should we go over and rescue him?” Lando suggested, feigning concern while he grinned. “Or do we let him bask in his hopeless dreams for a little longer?”

“He’ll be fine,” Charles replied, shaking his head. “But maybe we should give him a little push. He wouldn’t take any of this as serious if it were us in front of that crowd.”

“I can’t believe he’s got it this bad,” Lando said, his tone playful, “What spice do you think he would add to the word ‘simp’ if it was his turn to describe it? Charismatic? Earned? I can practically hear his monologue right now.”

Charles laughed, then leaned forward, narrowing his eyes as he studied Max. “But seriously, look at him. It’s like watching a puppy. You know he wouldn’t even know what to say to her.”

While they teased Max, he remained entranced. Conscious of his friends’ snickering, he reluctantly stole a glance at them and noticed their laughter.

Realizing what they were up to, he straightened, a blush creeping up his neck.

“Guys! Quit it!” he called out, his voice laced with embarrassment. “I’m just watching!”

“Yeah, watching her while looking like you’re in a personal rom-com,” Lando snickered. “How about a quick flirt, huh? We can’t let those hours of sim racing go to waste, Max!”

“Or we could help you,” Charles added, the corners of his mouth curling into a teasing grin. “I could distract her while you swoop in for a heroic rescue.”

Max rolled his eyes, attempting to shake off their banter, yet a smile tugged at his lips, unable to fully resist the comedic timing of his over-the-top friends.

“You two are ridiculous, you know that? I’d rather drown than ask either one of you for ‘help’.”

“Oh please, it wouldn’t even be asking!” Lando exchanged a knowing grin with Charles. “You’d be thanking us with how epic this moment will be.”

Just as their banter continued, you finished with the last group of fans, standing tall under the sun, blissfully unaware of the trio observing you.

You tucked a loose strand of hair behind your ear and took out your phone, scrolling through your messages.

“Look! She’s free! Go now!” Lando exclaimed, shoving Max lightly.

“What? No! I can't!” Max stuttered, standing rigid, his earlier confidence evaporating.

Charles leaned closer, unfazed by Max’s protests. “You brought this on yourself. You can’t let the opportunity pass you by. Just be yourself.”

“Be myself?” Max echoed incredulously. “What does that even mean? Look at her! She’s amazing. I’m just… me.”

“What’s wrong with that?” Charles replied. “She doesn't want another trophy; she wants someone real. If you don’t go talk to her, you’ll never know.”

With a deep breath, Max took a step back, contemplating the ocean of thoughts that whirled within him. “What if I mess up? Or worse, what if she thinks I’m just a weird guy?”

“Mate! You're the Max Verstappen,” Lando shrugged. “I don't think she'll care.” He winked. “Now go. You could get all the cool points.”

With a silent nod and a rush of adrenaline, Max finally took a step forward. As he approached you, he tried to focus on the words swirling in his mind.

Closer and closer, he felt his heart race—this was it.

You looked up just as he reached you, and your eyes met his. His breath caught, a mix of excitement and nervousness weaving together. “Hey…,” he managed to say, suddenly feeling small in this vast world of possibility.

You smiled brightly, that same warmth radiating from you that had drawn him here. “Hi there! You’re a fan of the team, right?”

Max nodded, wrestling with the best response while standing here, finally face to face with the person he admired yet knew so little about. “Yeah, I mean, um, I—I am.” He swallowed hard. “I saw you with your fans over there, and, um, you were amazing.”

A soft chuckle escaped you. “Thank you! I love connecting with them. It’s the least I can do. They make our sport so vibrant and exciting.”

“I can see that,” Max said, feeling the confidence slowly emerging. “Just like you’re making this whole weekend brighter.”

The two of you shared a laugh that alleviated the tension, and with each word, the distance between you lessened. The shimmer of stars began to paint the sky as the sun set, casting a magical glow over the race circuit, where a new chapter began to unfold.

Meanwhile, Charles and Lando watched from a distance, an approving grin plastered on their faces. “Maybe our Max isn’t such a hopeless case after all,” Lando mused, nudging Charles.

“Looks like our little simp might just prove us all wrong,” Charles replied, folding his arms in satisfaction as they witnessed the unfolding moment between you and Max, already knowing it was destined to be a story worth telling.

You’ve always found comfort in the chaos of racing. The revving engines, the smell of burnt rubber, and the exhilaration hanging in the air—every race was a whirlwind of excitement.

As a social media influencer, you had the chance to immerse yourself in this electrifying world, and attending each Grand Prix was like living in a breathtaking dream.

But it wasn't just the races that thrilled you; it was the company you kept, particularly Max.

He was a whirlwind on the track, deftly maneuvering through the chaos of his competitors. Off the track, however, he was refreshingly down-to-earth.

From the moment you met, a strong bond formed—a friendship that quickly evolved into the kind of connection that made fans and onlookers raise their eyebrows with curiosity.

Your camaraderie was vibrant and infectious, turning the drivers’ lounge into your personal arena of chaos where everyone else was a spectator.

“Hey, Max!” you exclaimed, waving as he walked through the driver’s lounge after a particularly grueling race in Miami. A smirk twitched at the corner of his mouth.

“Y/N! Ready for some ‘maxplaining’?” he teased, giving you a playful nudge.

You rolled your eyes, laughing. “You mean me doing the yapping, Maxplaining is your job.”

“Touché,” he grinned, his eyes sparkling with mischief. “But let’s compare notes on what went wrong today. I have a few things to say.”

You led him to a quieter corner, the hum of the lounge fading as the two of you settled into a rhythm. You were comfortable with each other, like family.

“Okay, admit it,” you began, leaning in conspiratorially. “You totally could have cut that last corner better. What were you thinking?”

Max feigned a horrified gasp. “What do you mean? I was just giving the crowds a show! It’s about the drama, Y/N!”

“Drama?” you chuckled. “More like a slow dance with the wall! Lando warned you, didn’t he?”

Max smirked, clearly enjoying the banter. “Lando is always going on about it. It’s like he thinks he can drive better just because he’s got a fancy new helmet.”

At that, you burst out laughing, imagining Lando prancing around, confidently boasting about helmet aerodynamics while utterly ignoring the zen of driving.

Lando had long since accepted his role in your friendship as the comedic relief, always reminding you both to loosen up amidst the pressure.

As the races sped by from more distant tracks like COTA to the legendary Brazil Grand Prix, your friendship deepened wonderfully, forming an unbreakable bond.

Instagram stories filled with laughter and spontaneous videos of Max’s antics, unfiltered and untamed, all while being followed by millions.

It wasn’t merely a friendship; it was an adventure, one you cherished.

“Oh, I’m definitely maxplaining this one for the Gram,” you declared one day, holding up your phone as Max attempted to juggle a football while simultaneously answering questions from fans.

“Y/N, focus! We need to practice our pre-race rituals, not showcase my juggling skills,” Max replied, though he couldn’t resist the allure of the camera, striking a mock-serious pose.

“Fine, focus mode activated! But I’ll always film your epic fails,” you bantered, capturing him dramatically failing to keep the football afloat.

The moments you shared were infused with invaluable lessons and effortless joy. It was on a chill evening following a hot race that things began to shift for you both.

“Do you ever think about what life would be like if you weren’t racing? Like, normal stuff?” you asked, settling comfortably in a lounge chair, your gaze fixed on the sunset outside the paddock.

Max paused, his expression turning thoughtful. “Sometimes. It’s hard, though. Racing is everything I know—you lose track of reality. But I guess if I weren’t here...” he trailed off, his brow furrowing, “I’d probably be lost.”

“I get that,” you affirmed. “But you’re not just a racer, Max. You’re an inspiration to so many. It’s more than just speed; it’s the grit and passion the fans see.”

A shy smile crept across his face. “And you, Y/N, you’re more than just this influencer. You humanize the sport. You put a face to racing that isn’t just helmets and stats.”

Caught off guard by his sincerity, you felt a flutter in your chest. “Thanks, Max. That means a lot,” you replied, warmth spreading through you.

There was a beat of silence before he continued, “Have you ever thought about how this could go beyond racing?”

Your heart raced. “What do you mean?”

"Nothing," he muttered shyly, his ears went bright red and excused himself to finish his debriefing. . . .

The evening sun cast a warm glow over the park as Max leaned against a nearby wall, scrolling through his phone.

He had been enjoying his time with you, your banter and laughter filling the air, a comfortable rhythm you had established over the weeks.

Yet, beneath the surface of your friendship, Max felt a flicker of something deeper, a burgeoning affection he hadn’t quite dared to voice.

Suddenly, he noticed a figure approaching you—a tall, dark-haired guy who carried himself with an ease that annoyed Max for reasons he couldn’t fully articulate.

As the guy drew closer, he greeted you with a wide smile, and you responded with a tension in your shoulders that sent alarm bells ringing in Max’s head.

"Hey, Y/N!" the guy said, his voice overly cheerful as if he were trying to create an upbeat atmosphere. "Long time no see! How have you been?"

“Uh, hi, Ben,” you replied, your voice lacking its usual vibrancy. “I’ve been… good.” You shifted your weight uncomfortably, avoiding eye contact while fiddling with the strap of your bag.

Max couldn’t hear the rest of your conversation, but he could see your discomfort rise like a tide. Ben leaned in closer, gesturing animatedly with his hands, and Max’s heart raced.

It was clear you wanted to retreat, but Ben seemed oblivious to your disinterest.

Max took a step off the wall, deciding he didn't like the way Ben was invading your personal space. He approached them, a casual yet protective demeanor in his stride.

“Hey, babe! There you are!” he had called out, forcing the brightness into his tone, hoping to drown out the awkwardness hanging in the air.

Your relief was evident as you turned to him with that light that made everything feel right.

“Oh! Maxy, hey!” you exclaimed, that simple greeting sending a jolt of happiness through him.

He couldn’t help but grin at the way your eyes lit up when you saw him, a stark contrast to the cloud that overhung your expression when you were with Ben.

“Yeah, I just… um, was catching up with Ben here,” you said, the slight falter in your voice not going unnoticed by Max.

He felt a flicker of protectiveness flare up inside him, and he stepped closer, narrowing the space between you and Ben.

“Ben!” Max called, feigning cheerfulness as he directed his attention to the other guy, whose smile seemed to dim the moment he realized Max had entered the scene. “You’re still talking about high school? What a wild ride that was, right?”

Ben chuckled lightly, clearly irritated with Max's interruption but not wanting to show it. “Yeah, we were just reminiscing about old times,” he replied, shooting you a glance. “Isn’t that right, Y/N?”

“Right,” you muttered, your gaze darting away, unable to meet either of their eyes.

Max could see you were struggling, trapped in some unspoken tension, but he didn’t want to let you stay there any longer.

“Well, we’ve got our own plans,” Max interjected smoothly, a hint of challenge in his voice as he wrapped his arm around your shoulder gently.

“So, are you ready to grab that smoothie we talked about? The mango one?” He leaned in closer, lowering his voice like a conspirator sharing a secret, “I hear it’s worth it.”

You caught his eyes, and in that moment, your gratitude was palpable.

“Yes! I could really go for a mango smoothie right now,” you said, the tension easing from your face as you shifted your weight towards Max, your unexpected ally in this moment.

“Smoothies are great for tackling the past,” Max added with an exaggerated grin at Ben, who now looked like a puppet with its strings cut.

Max felt a thrill of satisfaction watching the other man’s expression sour, knowing you were finally free to escape this uncomfortable confrontation.

“Good to see you, Y/N,” Ben forced through gritted teeth, his eyes boring into Max as if trying to figure him out.

“Yeah, you too,” you replied, the practiced politeness in your tone striking a sharp contrast to the warmth you’d shown Max.

Together, you turned away from Ben, the café’s atmosphere lightening as you stepped outside into the warm sun.

Once you reached the sidewalk, your sigh of relief was almost comical. “Thank you for that, Max. I didn’t know how to get away.”

“Anytime,” he said, trying to keep his voice casual while his heart raced. “Ben can be a little… intense, can’t he?”

You laughed, the sound genuine and bright. “Intense is one way to put it. He has a way of making things complicated.”

“He’s... well, we have some history that’s not exactly fun,” you admitted, your expression somber as you waited for your smoothies.

“Do you want to tell me about it?” Max asked gently, his heart thumping in his chest.

He didn’t want to push you, but he was curious and concerned at the same time.

You hesitated for a moment, your fingers tracing the rim of your phone. “It was just a complicated relationship. One of those where things started out great, but eventually spiraled into something toxic. It was… hard to let go.”

Max’s expression softened. “I understand. You don’t have to share everything if you’re not comfortable, though. I just want you to know I’m here for you, always.”

You smiled, a genuine light coming back to your eyes. “I appreciate that, Max. I think after all this time, I’ve finally learned what I want in my life. You just being here means a lot.”

“That’s what friends are for, right? And I wouldn’t want anyone to make you feel uncomfortable. You deserve better than that,” Max said, handing you the smoothie.

“Thanks, Max. You really are a great friend.” As you two walked away from the stand, you stole a glance at him, your eyes shining. “You know, I’m really glad to have you in my life.”

Max smiled. He just hoped he was something more to you. . . . .

It was a sunny Thursday afternoon when your phone buzzed unexpectedly. The screen lit up, revealing an incoming call from a number you recognized as belonging to Red Bull Racing's media team.

Your heart raced; you just had been following F1 closely, and your recent friendship with Max Verstappen had garnered its fair share of attention on social media.

You answered the call, curiosity piqued.

“Hey! Is this Y/N?” a cheerful voice greeted on the other end.

“Yes, it is!” you replied, trying to sound composed. “Who am I speaking with?”

“This is Sarah from Red Bull's media team. We’ve been monitoring the amazing fan reactions to the content featuring you and Max. We’d love to capitalize on that momentum,” she explained.

"We’d like to invite you to join Max for a fun game, which we plan to share on our social media. Are you up for it?"

You couldn’t believe it. “Absolutely,”

“Great! We’ll set it up for tomorrow afternoon. You'll both be given ten questions. Some will be about F1, and others will be random. Sound good?”

“Sounds fantastic,” you hung up, excitement bubbling inside.

Who wouldn't want to play a game with one of F1's biggest stars?

The next day, you arrived at the Red Bull Racing headquarters, a breathtaking fusion of sleek modern design and rich motorsport culture.

The moment you stepped inside, you were greeted with genuine smiles from the team members bustling around, their energy infectious, the air thick with the anticipation that always brewed before a race.

ou could hear the chatter about tire compounds and race strategies, a symphony of excitement that made your heart race.

After a quick cup of coffee—rich and strong enough to zap you awake—you engaged in light banter with a few of the engineers, teasing them about the latest car performance.

Just as you were beginning to feel at home, Olivia, the content manager, came over and ushered me into a bright studio space designed explicitly for video content.

“Ready for some fun today?” she asked, a playful glint in her eyes.

“I’m always ready for fun, especially with Max,” you replied with a grin.

As you entered the studio, you spotted Max Verstappen lounging against a table, his trademark red and blue cap perched backward on his head.

He was scrolling through his phone, but he looked up as you walked in, his face lighting up with a warm grin.

“Hey! Finally, the famous Y/N has arrived!” he exclaimed, his tone playful and welcoming.

You chuckled, rolling your eyes. “Don’t exaggerate, Max. I’m just the guy who occasionally shows up in your videos.”

“Nah, you’re a big deal now! Everyone loves the banter we have,” he insisted, pushing himself off the table and giving you a light punch on the shoulder. “Ready to get this started?”

“Absolutely. Let’s see who knows the other better!” you replied, feeling playful and competitive.

Sarah stepped in, ready to explain the rules. “Alright, everyone! Here’s how it will work. You’ll each take turns asking questions, alternating between F1 trivia and personal ones. Let’s find out just how well you know each other!”

“Sounds good,” Max said, crossing his arms and leaning back in his chair, his eyes gleaming with mischief. “Ladies first.”

“Alright, Max,” you said, preparing to razz him with your first question. “What’s my favorite food?”

He crossed his arms, a teasing glint in his eyes. “That’s easy—pasta! But the way you always go on about it makes it seem like you think you’re Italian.”

You burst out laughing, caught off guard by his accuracy. “Damn! You’ve been paying attention,” you replied with mock disbelief. “But just wait till you get yours.”

“Bring it on!” He replied, leaning in with an eager grin.

You took a deep breath and decided to up the ante. “Okay, here’s an F1 trivia question. What year did Red Bull Racing first win the Constructors’ Championship?”

Without missing a beat, he said, “2010,” You raised an eyebrow. “Impressive!”

Then it was Max’s turn. He leaned closer, an intensity in his gaze. “What’s the last concert you went to?”

You paused for a moment, recalling the memory. “It was a Coldplay concert last year. They were amazing!”

The questions flowed naturally, and laughter filled the room as the banter turned to playful teasing. Each time he got an answer right, there was a spark—a moment of connection that seemed to linger in the air a second too long.

You caught him glancing at you from the corner of his eye, his expression both challenging and curious.

“Okay, okay, I have one for you,” he said, leaning forward conspiratorially, as if ready to break some sacred bond. “What do I like to do on my days off?”

You squinted, trying to remember the few times the team had shared off days together. “Uh, you like spending time with your cats, and you also love to do sim racing?”

He laughed softly, shaking his head. “Close! I do love spending time with sim racing, but I also spend too much time playing FIFA. You should’ve known that!”

You rolled your eyes playfully. “Alright, your turn! What’s my guilty pleasure?”

Max smirked, a glint of mischief swirling in his gaze. “You’re definitely a sucker for reality TV. Pretty sure I’ve caught you watching Love Island USA a couple of times.”

“Guilty as charged!” you admitted, laughing along with him. “But I can defend my choices if you want—ahem, it’s simple entertainment!”

His lighthearted ribbing felt warm and right, and the camaraderie between the two of you had grown into a familiar rapport almost effortlessly.

As the Q&A continued, you both slowly drifted into laughter punctuated by thoughtful pauses where a silence spoke volumes.

You began to wonder if he felt the same magnetic pull you were experiencing. In those fleeting glances, you saw a flash of something—curiosity, longing—as if both of you were teetering on the edge of discovery.

Finally, as the game progressed toward the final question, Sarah interrupted with an excited sway. “Alright, I think we’re done for now! This video is definitely going to be a hit.”

You glanced at Max, who still wore that boyish grin—his energy infectious as he reveled in the laughter circulating around the room.

But deeper than that, you felt a weight pressing on your heart, urging you to say something more.

“Hey, Max, can I ask you something?” you called out, your voice steady despite the rush of emotions threatening to spill over.

“Sure, what’s on your mind?” He looked at you with genuine curiosity, and for a brief moment, it felt as though you were in a bubble, shut away from everyone else.

“About our chemistry—does it mean anything to you?” The question hung in the air like a transmitted spark, and you could see his expression turn serious, the lightness shifting into something deeper.

He took a moment, weighing your words. “Ever since we started being friends, it’s been… different. Fun, but something more,” he admitted, the sincerity in his voice resonating through you.

Your heart soared. Max was just as captivated by your chemistry as you were. It was as if some invisible thread had tethered you both, pulling you closer together.

With a casual flip of his cap back to forward, Max held your gaze. The laughter faded, and there you stood, surrounded by the energy of the Red Bull Racing headquarters, but your world had narrowed down to this single moment.

You felt the magnetic connection evolve into something tangible, something real that could break the barriers between colleagues and something much deeper—a thrilling journey ahead sparked by an unexpected electric tension. . . .

You glided down the hallway, adrenaline and excitement coursing through your veins. This was no ordinary night; in an unexpected twist, Max had chosen you to accompany him to an exclusive F1 gala.

You had always seen him as more than just a friend, but the tension between you had never been openly addressed—until now.

The door to the living room gave way, revealing Max perched comfortably on the sofa, his classic black tuxedo accentuating the chiselled lines of his physique. His tousled dark hair was slicked back, emphasizing the sharp angles of his jaw.

You couldn’t help but notice how handsome he looked. But when he turned to face you, his expression changed from admiration to sheer shock.

“How do I look?” you asked playfully, knowing full well that the dress you wore clung to your curves in just the right way.

Lifting the last of your earrings into place, you caught his gaze, lingering far too long on your neckline.

Max’s mouth fell slightly open, and he stammered, “I-uh- You look— You look great.”

His eyes seemed glued to your chest, and you smirked at him, shaking your head. “Yeah, okay, let’s keep our thoughts innocent,” you teased, a playful glint in your eye.

He blinked rapidly, as if waking from a trance, and his cheeks tinged with a light shade of crimson. “Right. Innocent. Of course.” His voice dropped an octave, trying to regain composure.

“You look—really beautiful. I mean, not that you don’t always…”

You laughed softly, enjoying the fluster you’d caused in the usually confident driver. “Thanks, Max. You clean up pretty well yourself.”

He stood up, adjusting the lapels of his tux and shooting you a half-welcoming smile. “Ready to go? I think I’m about to break a world record for the longest time spent staring without saying anything coherent.”

“Let’s get out of here before you break any more records,” you replied, grabbing your clutch and heading toward the door.

The gala was being held at a splendid venue in Monaco, the ambiance glowing with extravagance. The soft sounds of classical music floated through the air as you and Max made your way inside, adorned in gold and silver decorations.

It felt surreal, the elegance around you contrasting sharply with the adrenaline-fueled world of racing that was Max’s daily routine.

As you entered, the murmurs of guests turned into a wave of excitement. “Max! Over here!” A handful of fans spotted him, rushing forward with cameras and excited whispers.

You watched as he interacted with them effortlessly, signing autographs and posing for pictures. A wave of pride washed over you; he was not just a friend but a superstar—one of the best drivers in the world.

After several moments of mingling with his fans, he returned to your side, breathless from the attention.

“I’m glad you’re here with me,” he said, his voice now lowered to an almost intimate whisper. “It’s... a lot sometimes.”

You offered him a warm smile, knowing how taxing the spotlight could be. “It’s nice to see you outside of the track. You can actually relax for once.”

With that notion in mind, he later led you to the bar, where you both ordered drinks—Max preferring a classic whiskey while you chose a sparkling signature cocktail adorned with fresh fruit.

As you sipped your second drink, you turned to him. “So, any secret dreams for the season?”

Max leaned back against the bar, an amused smile stretching across his face. “Well, aside from winning, I might want to one-up my last season’s record. Or maybe…”

He paused dramatically, “I was hoping for a podium finish on our next outing in Italy. It’s always been a special place for me.”

“Why is that? The food, the scenery?” you queried, genuinely curious.

“It’s got the perfect blend of everything. The passion, the fans... And the tire placements at Monza are—well, they’re quite thrilling,” he explained, his enthusiasm evident.

You listened, fascinated by his love for the sport and the intricacies he shared. “I can see why you love it so much,” you replied, “It’s like an art form...”

“Exactly!” His eyes sparked with enthusiasm. “And speaking of art, I could hardly choose an artwork more stunning than you tonight.”

Feeling the heat rise to your cheeks, you chuckled softly. “Smooth, Max. Just remember, I’m not a trophy to be won.”

“More like a prize, then,” he shot back, his grinning eyes glinting in the light.

After what felt like a whirl of conversations and laughter, you noticed the transition in the evening. As Max caught your gaze, he spoke softly, “Say, would you like to dance?”

You hesitated for a moment, caught off-guard. “Dance? I’m not even sure I know how to—”

“You know how to sway, don’t you?” he teased, offering his hand. “Just follow my lead.”

The two of you shifted onto the dance floor, surrounded by elegantly dressed couples twirling and gliding with grace. The music faded into an intoxicating sound that seemed to pull you both closer together.

His hand found the small of your back, guiding you smoothly.

“What do you think?” he whispered in your ear as you found your rhythm. “Not so bad, is it?”

“Not bad at all,” you replied, heart racing as you shared his space. The warmth from his body enveloped you, grounding you.

Eventually, the song slowed, and as you swayed in closer, you could feel the heat radiating between you. It was a different rhythm now, one that echoed the unspoken tension of your friendship.

You felt his breath hitch as he leaned closer, inhaling softly.

“Can I tell you something?” he asked, his voice earnest.

“Yeah?” You searched his face, and the way his eyes flickered with vulnerability sent a shiver down your spine.

“I’m glad I chose you to come with me tonight,” he admitted, brushing a loose strand of hair behind your ear. “You’re not just a date; you’re... you’re everything.”

You felt your heart skip a beat. “What do you mean?”

“I mean that I care about you. More than just a friend,” he confessed, the courage of his words electrifying.

And there it was, laid bare before you in the most romantic of settings.

“Max, I feel the same.”

His gaze held yours, vulnerability mixing with unfettered joy. The music around you faded, but the world felt suspended in time, just the two of you wrapped in honesty.

He took a breath, then leaned down, brushing his lips softly against yours, tentative at first. You melted into the kiss, feeling like the most cherished person in the room.

The night had transformed into something truly unforgettable, and you knew that this moment was the beginning of something beautiful.

You wake up to the insistent buzzing of your phone beside you on the bedside table. Light streams through the curtains, illuminating the chaos of your living room, remnants from the night before—glasses, laughter, and the unmistakable scent of champagne.

You try to ignore the phone, but the buzzing doesn’t stop, and neither does the nauseating flutter of anxiety in your stomach.

“Who is it?” you murmur to yourself, glancing at the screen. Max’s name flashes back at you, and your heart races. Memories come flooding back. The party. The laughter.

His lips brushing against yours with a tenderness that made everything else in the room melt away. The kiss—a moment suspended in time, etched forever into your mind.

But then everything changed. The kiss had been captured, and going viral made it feel all too public. You had fallen for him—hard—but now the weight of that kiss felt like a betrayal.

You were terrified it would affect his career, and yet, what happened was beautiful. You cannot reconcile the two.

“God, what have I done?” You bury your face in your hands as shame washes over you. The thought of what the public would say twists like a knife in your heart.

You pick up your phone and stare at it, the guilt tightening its grip on your throat. You tell yourself you should call Max, but what would you even say?

You can’t shake the feeling that you’ve ruined everything. You let it ring through to voicemail, your thumb hovering over the disconnect button.

“Hey, it’s Max Verstappen. I’m probably busy right now, but please leave a message.” His cheerful voice rings out, and you hear the tremor of hope in it.

You feel like you might cry, but you can’t give in. Not now. You drop the phone back onto the table, letting out a shaky breath.

A few hours later, you finally get out of bed and make yourself a cup of coffee, hoping the caffeine will steady your nerves. On impulse, you switch on your laptop.

The first thing you see is a headline blaring from every angle: Max and Y/N: The Viral Kiss That Broke the Internet. Your heart sinks further. This was surreal and terrifying all at once.

“Incredible,” you mutter under your breath, rolling your eyes. You want to escape from it all. In that moment, the coffee tastes bitter.

Later that afternoon, you’re stirring the milk when your phone lights up again. It’s Max. You feel a rush of warmth mixed with dread.

You hesitate, fingers trembling as you stare at his name. Finally, you press the button, willing yourself to answer.

“Hello?” his voice is light, almost cheerful, and you can hear how easy it is for him to smile despite the chaos surrounding both of you.

“Max,” you manage, voice shaky. “We need to talk.”

There’s a moment of silence on the other end. “Are you okay?” His concern is palpable. “What’s wrong?”

You take a deep breath. “About last night… the kiss… the cameras… I can't help but feel like I’ve ruined your career somehow. We’re all over the media, Max! What if it affects your races? Your reputation?”

“Whoa, whoa,” he interjects, clearly caught off guard. “You didn’t ruin anything. Trust me. In fact, I’m glad it happened. I wanted people to know how I feel.”

“How can you be so relaxed about this?” you manage, frustration creeping in. “You’re an F1 driver. Your image matters.”

“Yeah, but my heart matters more,” he replies, and there's an unmistakable intensity in his tone. “You matter more.”

“Max, what do you mean?” Your heart skips a beat. Those words run like electricity through you.

“You and me… last night was amazing—life-changing, actually. I’ve been wanting to be with you for a long time, and it finally happened.” He chuckles softly, the sound bringing a small smile to your lips.

“All the media chatter is just noise. I'm happy people see how I feel about you.”

“You don’t understand. They’ll twist it. They’ll make it sound like you’re just some guy who kisses his fans! This isn’t a good look!”

“Listen,” he says firmly. “If they want to spin it that way, let them. But I know the truth, and so do you. I didn’t kiss a fan; I kissed the person I care about the most. That’s you, and nothing anyone says will change that.”

You feel like you could cry. Max’s words are a balm for your frayed nerves. But still, the doubt claws at you. “What if it backfires? What if it affects your team’s performance?”

“It won’t,” he insists, voice lighter now. “I thrive on pressure. Trust me; if I can drive a Formula 1 car at 200 miles an hour, I can manage whatever they throw at me. More importantly, it’s you I want in my life. Can you at least think about that?”

The sincerity in his voice is undeniable. You take a moment, letting it seep in. “I just… I don’t want to be the reason you face backlash.”

“Only if you don’t call back,” he says, teasing you gently. “But seriously, let’s enjoy this. Go out with me, just once, without worrying about the cameras.”

“I don’t even know how the press will react,” you sigh.

“Then surprise them. Pick a restaurant, and I’ll be there.”

You can feel your heart racing as you mull it over, but deep down, something beautiful stirs—a possibility, a spark. You could face the chaos together.

Finally, you admit, “Okay, then. Tomorrow, let’s go to that Italian place we love. But just a warning: I’m not putting on a show for anyone.”

“Perfect. Just you, me, and pasta,” he chuckles, and you can’t help but laugh, feeling the tension ease a little.

As you hang up, you stare out the window, meeting your own gaze in the reflection.

The episode before you has unsettled you, but perhaps, just perhaps, you and Max are writing the first chapter of something profound—something that even the world beyond the two of you could never fully understand.

Your heart swells with anticipation for what lies ahead. . . .

The soft glow of the late afternoon sun filtered through the curtains of your room, casting playful patterns on the floor as you stared at your reflection in the mirror. Your heart raced with excitement and nerves as you brushed the last strokes of mascara on your lashes.

You wanted to look your best, not just for yourself, but for Max. After the viral moment that had your names splashed across every social media feed, meeting up felt like stepping into a whirlwind you couldn’t escape, nor did you want to.

“You look amazing!” your best friend Mia said, planting herself on your bed, her phone in hand. “That dress is perfect for you!”

You twirled in front of the mirror, the fabric swirling around your legs. “Do you think he’ll even notice?” you laughed nervously, trying to inject levity into the situation.

“Are you kidding? Max will definitely notice. He’s been on cloud nine since that kiss!” Mia replied, her eyes sparkling with mischief. “I mean, who wouldn’t be a little distracted by the thought of a girl like you?”

Just then, the sound of your phone buzzing stole your attention. You rushed over, your heart leaping when you saw Max’s name.

“Hey!” you said, trying to contain your excitement.

“Hey!” he replied, his voice warm and a little nervous. “I’m outside. Ready to go?”

“Yeah, just give me a second!” you hurried to grab your jacket and purse, glancing at Mia over your shoulder. She gave you a thumbs-up and a grin before you dashed down the stairs and out the door.

Max stood leaning against his car, looking effortlessly handsome in a fitted navy shirt and jeans that accentuated his athletic figure. His hair was slightly tousled, the sun catching the glint in his blue eyes as he turned to you.

“Wow,” he said, his smile widening. “You look incredible.”

“Thanks! You don’t look too bad yourself,” you replied, trying to act cool while your cheeks heated up.

“Ready for our big adventure?” he asked, opening the car door for you.

“As ready as I’ll ever be,” you replied with a laugh, settling into the passenger seat.

Max drove in a comfortable silence for a while, the radio playing softly in the background as you occasionally glanced at one another, the tension palpable yet exciting. Eventually, you broke the silence.

“So, about that kiss…” you began, your fingers fidgeting with the hem of your dress.

Max chuckled, a little shyly, “You mean the one that broke the internet?”

“Yeah, that one! Do you think… I mean, how do you feel about it?” you asked, your heart pounding in your chest.

He glanced at you, his expression serious yet playful. “Honestly? I’m still pinching myself. I didn’t expect to get carried away like that, but when I saw you, it was like everything else faded away.”

“Same here,” you admitted, your gaze locked onto his profile, trying to decipher his thoughts. “But now the whole world knows, and that’s a little overwhelming.”

He nodded thoughtfully. “I get that. I wasn’t ready for the headlines either. But I kind of love that we’re doing this together, even if people are watching.”

“Are you sure you’re okay with the attention?” you asked, concern flickering across your features. “I mean, we didn’t even talk about what this means.”

Max reached over and placed his hand on yours, sending a warm jolt through your arm. “I’m okay with it because it’s you. I like you, and I want to see where this can go, with all the chaos around us.”

You smiled, your heart swelling at his words. “You really mean that?”

“Absolutely,” he said with a sincerity that made your breath catch. “So, how about we forget about the cameras and just enjoy our time together?”

Nodding eagerly, you felt a surge of relief wash over you. “I’d like that.”

You spent the afternoon at a quaint café downtown, the hum of conversation and the aroma of freshly brewed coffee setting a cozy atmosphere. You shared stories over pastries, laughter ringing between you both as you learned more about one another.

“Okay, your turn,” you said after Max revealed his embarrassing childhood nickname. “What’s your biggest fear?”

Max took a moment to think, a slight furrow spreading across his brow. “Honestly? Losing the people I care about. Being a driver means that you travel a lot which means you lose friends quickly.”

“I’m sorry,” you said, feeling a rush of empathy.

“It’s alright,” he said quickly, lifting his gaze to meet yours. “It taught me to value the people in my life even more. I guess that’s why I feel so lucky to have met you.”

Your heart fluttered as he leaned in slightly, a playful smirk dancing on his lips. “Also, I’m terrified of clowns.”

You burst into laughter, the tension from earlier melting away. “Oh come on! You can’t be serious.”

“I am! They’re just so unpredictable,” he insisted, his expression mock-stern. “One minute they’re juggling, and the next, they’re doing who knows what.”

You continued to share stories and tease each other, the world beyond the restaurant fading away. It wasn’t until you stepped out into the warm evening that you realized just how much you enjoyed his company.

“Wanna take a walk?” Max suggested, his hand naturally finding yours.

“I’d love to,” you replied, intertwining your fingers with his while you strolled through the twinkling lights of the downtown streets.

As you walked, the conversation flowed easily, your laughter mingling with the warm evening breeze. With every passing moment, the nervousness that had initially gripped you dissipated, replaced by a growing affection.

Then, as you rounded a quieter corner near the park, Max paused, turning to face me. The city lights danced in his eyes, and the warmth between you two was undeniable.

“Can I—” he hesitated, his gaze searching yours, “Can I kiss you again?”

You nodded, your heart fluttering wildly. “Definitely.”

He leaned in, his lips brushing softly against yours, igniting a flurry of butterflies in your stomach. This kiss was different, deeper, and more meaningful than the last—an unspoken promise of what was to come.

You pulled away, and you laughed breathlessly, trying to catch your breath.

“You know, if this goes viral too, at least it’ll be a better story,” Max teased, a charming smile spreading across his face.

“Let them talk!” you giggled, feeling a wave of confidence wash over you. “As long as it’s with you, I’m in.”

“Good,” he replied, his expression sincere. “Because I think we’re just getting started.”

With that, hand in hand, you continued your stroll, the world around you two fading into a beautiful blur as you embraced the adventure that lay ahead—together.

The sun hung low in the sky, casting a warm golden hue over the paddock. You and Max walked hand in hand, the sensation both electrifying and soothing.

The world had made a spectacle of your private moment, and now, as you stepped into the paddock, everyone watched, their eyes glimmering with curiosity and amusement.

“Why do you have to look at me like that? It’s making me weak, please stop,” you said, your voice a soft murmur as you caught his gaze.

His eyes sparkled with mischief, but there was something deeper—an unspoken promise that made your heart race.

Max chuckled, a warm laugh that seemed to drown out the chatter of the surrounding crowd. “Look at you, though. How can I not? You’re stunning today,” he said, his fingers gently squeezing yours.

He was always so effortless, a confidence that could light up a room, and now he was casting that glow on you.

You blushed slightly, trying to suppress a smile. “You know that’s not fair. You always know what to say to make me squirm,” you replied playfully, a hint of teasing in your voice.

“I’m just being honest,” he replied, turning serious for a moment. “You have to know how lucky I feel. I can’t stop thinking about you,” he said, his voice dropping to a low, intimate tone.

The sincerity in his words made you feel exposed, yet cherished.

You felt a blush creeping up your cheeks at the compliment. “Lucky, huh? You’re the one racing in the fastest cars in the world. I’m just here, taking selfies and trying not to trip over all the cables.”

He squeezed your hand, a reassuring gesture that made you feel as if the two of you were in your own little world, separate from the high-octane chaos surrounding you. “Nah, the real race is in my heart. And you’ve won it.”

“Smooth talker,” you said, rolling your eyes playfully, though your heart fluttered at his words. “Just wait until you end up on the podium again; you’ll be too busy celebrating to remember little ol’ me.”

“Not a chance,” he replied, his voice filled with conviction. “You know I’d dedicate every race to you if I could. Last time on the podium—remember? I pointed to you. That was for you.”

“Yeah, I remember,” you said, your smile wide. “You were practically glowing. It was such an amazing moment.”

“I don’t think I’ve ever felt happier,” Max said, a serious tone creeping into his voice. “Every time I look at you, I get reminded of what really matters.”

“Okay, now you’re going to make me cry,” you joked, but there was a hint of sincerity in your tone. “Don’t ruin my makeup, please!”

Max laughed, the sound warm and infectious. “I promise, I won’t deliberately make you cry. But you are basically my good luck charm. You have to come to every race now.”

“Deal. But I get to pick the after-party spots,” you replied, and he raised an eyebrow.

“Who said I was going to take you to an after-party? I might want to just take you home and cook you dinner.”

“Cook? You?” You laughed. “I thought you’d just rely on takeout after the races.”

“I can surprise you,” he said with a smirk. “Besides, there’s something nice about a home-cooked meal. Wouldn’t you want to try my pasta? I’ve perfected it over the years.”

“Fine, but it better not be like the time you tried to make pancakes and turned them into a science experiment,” you shot back, remembering the sticky disaster that had resulted in laughter and flour-coated walls.

“Hey! That was one time. I’m much better now,” he insisted, pretending to be offended. But the twinkle in his eyes told you he was just teasing.

As you walked past the team garages, you noticed the crew setting up for the next race, and the adrenaline of the environment pulsed through you. “Max, look at all of this hustle and bustle. Doesn’t it make your heart race?”

He nodded, his expression serious now as he gazed at the busy scene. “Definitely. It’s the thrill of competition—everyone’s working hard for one goal. But to me, nothing compares to this moment with you.”

Your heart swelled at his words. “You really know how to make a girl feel special, don’t you?”

“I try my best,” he admitted, a playful grin returning. “But honestly, you inspire me to push harder, to be better. I want to win races, not just for myself, but for you.”

“Max, that’s so sweet. Just promise me you won’t risk it all out there. I can’t bear the thought of anything happening to you.”

His expression softened, and he brought your hands to his lips, kissing them gently. “I promise. I’ll always be careful. You and I have a lifetime of moments to create together, and I won’t let anything take that away.”

You both stood there for a moment, the noise of the paddock fading into the background as you simply enjoyed each other’s company. The world around you became a blur, and it felt as if time stood still.

“Alright, what’s next on our agenda?” Max asked, breaking the spell of the moment.

You glanced around thoughtfully. “How about we grab a bite to eat? I’m starving.”

“Perfect! I know this great place just down the road. And after that, I’ll show you my secret hiding spot in the paddock where I keep my trophies,” he said, winking at you.

“Trophies and secrets? You really do know how to woo a girl,” you replied, playfully nudging him as you both started walking toward the exit.

“Oh, I’ve got plenty more up my sleeve,” he said confidently, pulling you closer as you stepped into the evening light, hand in hand, ready to face whatever adventures were ahead. "You are my priority after all,"

[willowpains]

GIRLY we need more of latina actress reader! with Drew, I was thinking of her spending time with him and the fam at some summer house or sum and especially after season 3 filming and he has his saggy hair (OML) and one of his sisters prolly Brooke catches reader playing with his hair, and drew and reading dancing around the kitchen cooking breakfast in the morning!!!! and of course add anything else you would like!!! 

summer getaway

drew starkey x latina actress reader!

Your heart was really happy at the moment.

Drew’s family had kindly invited you to join them in their annual summer vacation at their summer house in North Carolina.

You would only be joining them for a week, because you were planning on visiting home in Mexico as well.

Jodi and Todd had been really nice asking you to join the family as they couldn’t imagine the trip without you.

And of course, Drew had not missed the opportunity of telling you how much you two would enjoy the little trip.

So you totally agreed.

And that’s how you two were currently enjoying the afternoon, watching the soon to be sunset on some chairs on the garden at the back of the house, while the rest of his family busied themselves inside.

Oh how you loved quiet moments like this.

You were sitting on Drew’s lap, he had one of his arms around your waist, while the other one rested on your leg.

You were hugging him, with both arms around his neck, while one of your hands played with his wispy hair at the nape of his neck, your nails scraping softly against his skin.

Drew sighed in content as he closed his eyes for a second.

“That feels good” he mumbled, leaning his head on your chest, giving you more space to work with.

You laughed softly at him.

“Yeah?” you asked softly, as you continued your movements, loving how he could absolutely melt under your touch at any moment. “I love your hair like this” you say, while running your fingers through his hair.

He had let his hair grown a little, going for a wispy kind of mullet.

And oh could he pull off any look.

You were kinda jealous.

“You love it huh?” he said teasingly as he moved back his head from your chest so he could look at you. “I’m gonna have to cut it off eventually doll” he said, as he removed his hand from your leg, so he was now holding your face.

You pouted at him.

“What if I convince you not to?” you asked playfully, leaning in to peck his lips, still playing with his hair.

He groaned into the kiss as you pulled back, smiling at him.

“You’re bad” he says, leaning in to kiss you again, before you both break apart at the sound of someone clearing their throat.

You two look back and find Brooke, Drew’s sister, peeking her head out from inside the house.

“Dinner is ready love birds!” she says smiling at both of you, just before going back inside the house.

Your cheeks heat up in embarrassment, while you hide your face in the crook of Drew’s neck.

He lets out a laugh while he softly soothes your back with one of his hands.

“Oh my god I feel like a teenager that just got caught” you say into his neck.

He softly chuckles at your comment while placing a kiss on the top of your head, finding it funny and adorable how flustered you got any time his family catched any type of PDA from you together.

“Let’s get some dinner doll” he says, standing up from the chair with you in his arms.

You let out a shriek in surprise, as you wrap both your arms around his neck to support yourself.

“Drew put me down!” you say, laughing and watching him laugh at your reaction.

He shakes his head in amusement as he walks with you in his arms towards the house.

“Just enjoy the ride love” he says placing a soft kiss on your temple, as he takes you inside the house for you to have dinner with his family.

After dinner, you and Drew offered to pick up table and clean up everything. His family had worked so hard to put everything up, so it was your turn to do something.

“I’ll do the dishes” you say, walking to the sink and starting to clean them up.

Contrary to popular opinion, you loved doing dishes.

There was something so calming and relaxing about getting your hands soapy, bubbly and extra clean that just did something to you.

“I’ll clean up the table” he said, walking off before pecking your lips, leaving you smiley.

You could hear the clatter of forks and plates, and then, he was walking into the kitchen once again.

“Alexa, play lover by Taylor Swift” Drew said out loud, making you turn your head and look at him with a smile, while he gave you a playful look.

Your heart warmed as he approached you and offered you his hand.

“May I?” he said, giving you a big smile.

You could feel the butterflies going crazy in your stomach, and it made you smile even harder.

Quickly, you turned around to rinse your hands while patting them dry, only to face him as he pulled you in.

His hands moved to your waist, and you tangled yours around his neck, looking up at him with an adoring look.

“You know how to charm a girl” you say, feeling like the luckiest girl in the world.

He chuckled softly as he looked down at you between his arms.

“I only care about charming you” he says, twirling you softly and catching you back, pulling you close to him. “That’s all I ever want”.

His words make your heart flutter, as you rest your head on his chest, enjoying the kitchen dancing session.

With Taylor’s songs behind you, you feel content and at peace, honestly, wherever Drew was, as long as he was with you, you were at peace.

“I love you baby” he says, swaying you both to the rhythm of the song, while he places a soft kiss at the top of your head, while his thumb slowly draws gentle circles on your waist.

You could stay like that forever.

At his words, you look up at him, moving one of your hands that played with the hair on his neck, to his cheek, grazing it softly.

“I love you more mi amor” you say, unable to hide the smile appeared on your face.

He leans down and captures your lips on a kiss that communicates everything you’re both feeling without needing words.

Unbeknownst to both of you, his family was watching, more like peaking, your little romantic moment.

And they had been getting glimpses of your love throughout the trip.

They loved to see their son in love.

In love with you.

Being loved how it should be.

Having you as part of the family.

They knew you were both lucky to have found each other.

The next morning, you were back in the kitchen.

You had offered to cook breakfast for the family, telling them how you wanted to show them a typical mexican breakfast that you knew they would all love.

Drew as always, had offered to help you, being the one who always tried all your recipes.

“Is it good?” you asked, after he tasted your green sauce for chilaquiles.

You liked cooking. You weren’t the best, but you definitely weren’t the worse.

It was enough to make your mom proud, and you could work with that.

Drew paused for a moment as he closed his eyes and moaned in pleasure.

“It’s delicious baby” he said, as he enjoyed the flavors dancing on his tongue.

You squinted your eyes at him, not truly believing his words.

“Be completely honest amor” you said, leaning your hips against the counter, looking at him attentively. “You won’t hurt my feelings if you tell me something’s missing” you admitted giving him a smile.

Drew paused for a moment, before going back and trying the sauce one more time.

He hesitated, his eyes closed, concentrating.

“Maybe a little bit of salt” he said, one eye open waiting for your reaction.

You smiled at him while playfully hitting him on the chest.

“You’re so dramatic” you said laughing, before turning to the stove and adding a bit more salt to finish everything up.

He laughed before placing his hands on your waist, and resting his chin on the crown of your head.

“And you’re amazing” he said, silently enjoying the domestic side of you two being on vacation, sharing with family or not.

You hummed at his words, resting your back on his broad chest.

“Help me serve the plates?” You said, turning around and pecking his lips softly.

Drew scrunched his nose in annoyance as you broke the kiss, looking at him with a smile.

“Let’s make them wait a little longer” he said, wrapping one of his arms around your waist pulling you in, the other one around the back of your neck capturing your lips in a kiss.

You smile between his arms.

Later that night, everyone was chilling and winding down from spending the day out on the beach.

You and Drew were laying down on the couch. You were watching a marvel movie playing on the tv, while he attempted to read a few pages of a book he hadn’t picked up once since arriving at the summer house.

He was trying really hard to stay focused on his book but he seemed to fail, because from what you could see from your position on top of him laying your head on his chest, around 10 minutes had passed and he hadn’t flipped his book page.

You giggled softly as he tore his eyes away from the tv to look down at you.

“What’s so funny?” He smiles sheepishly at you, holding his book with one hand.

You lifted your head, resting your chin on his chest to be able to meet his eyes.

“You’re getting distracted” you say smiling at him. “Just give up already and enjoy the movie amor”.

He hesitates for a moment, looking between the tv, his book, and you.

He sighs, shaking his head and smiling.

“I’m weak” he says closing his book and leaving it next to him on the couch.

You giggle softly before going back to resting your head on his chest and watching the movie, wrapping your arms around his waist.

“Everybody’s weak when Avengers Endgame is playing” you say, getting immediately lost in the film again.

Drew chuckles softly as one of his hands finds its way to your back, drawing circles, lulling you to sleep. While the other, tangled itself in your hair, scratching your scalp tenderly.

Your eyes began to flutter at his gentle touches.

The weight of being out on the beach all day, mixed with Drew’s fingers against your skin, were making it harder for you to stay awake.

Your eyes were fighting to stay open and continue watching the movie, because no matter how many times you watched it, you loved it every time.

But next thing you knew, you had fallen asleep over Drew.

He didn’t realize when exactly you had fallen asleep.

But when he looked down at you to watch your reaction over Black Widow’s death, he smiled at you being completely asleep and relaxed.

His heart fluttered at the adorable sight before him.

He had to capture it.

So he reached for his phone and stopped breathing for a second to get a perfect picture of you mid dream.

“What are you guys-“ Logan, Drew’s brother, came into the living room and paused mid sentence as Drew sent him a death glare signaling for him to shut up.

Logan lifted his arms in sign of peace, as he slowly walked into the room, silently sitting on the individual couch, immediately getting into the movie.

You were still deeply asleep.

An earthquake could hit and you probably wouldn’t notice.

So Drew threw his phone somewhere next to him, and went back to watching the movie and cradling you between his arms.

He could stay like that forever and he would be the happiest man on earth.

*

thank you so much for your request! I absolutely adored it and had so much fun writing it<3 sorry if it takes me a minute to post, sometimes I’m a bit of a slow writer

I actually loved the concept so much I’m planning on making a moodboard for this soooo stay tuned

I’m so happy to see people enjoying the latina actress reader universe as much as I do, thank you all so much!

as always, if any of y’all wanna read, ask or see something in particular from latina actress reader let me know<3

[fanbasetwo]

first time w anton? virgin anton x virgin reader?

IM ON MY KNEES BEGGING YOU 🙂

✦ BABY GIRL, 143 ! ANTON

001. PAIRING , virgin anton × virgin reader

002. SYNOPSIS , anton had been away from you for some months and now when he was back, you showed him all the texts you had seen on his phone. only ending up sealing the deal at the end.

003. GENRE , smut

004. WARNING(S) , kissing, a little dirty talk but anton is just shameless lol, teasing, pussy slapping, little to no prep, boob play, nipple play (slightly), they make up pretty early after fight, hymen breaking, mentions of blood and pain, too much plot if you ask me, lmk if I missed anything.

005. WORD COUNT , 1.8K

MASTERLIST!! join my taglist by sending an ask or commenting here <3

You had been dating Anton for a few years now. You met through a dating app, and while some might find that odd, you both clicked instantly. For better or worse, you fell in love.

Since you started dating at a young age, you both decided to seek job opportunities outside of town, which meant navigating a long-distance relationship. While many say long-distance relationships often fizzle out, that wasn’t the case for you two.

In fact, Anton would send you those silly memes that made you laugh and would video call you while cooking, asking for your advice if he messed something up. His friends teased you, saying you two were practically a married couple, and while there was some truth to that, the more accurate reality was that you both missed each other terribly.

So when he finally returned after landing a high-paying job—while you worked part-time as a cashier to cover rent—he insisted on paying your rent, but you turned him down.

The relationship seemed perfect, especially with his visit after what felt like two long years apart. But everything changed when you accidentally glanced at his phone. A text from a number with a heart emoji as a name read, “Is my baby fine?” In that moment, the realization hit you hard: the person you thought was your boyfriend was cheating on you.

“SO YOU CHEATED?!” you shouted as soon as you heard him enter the apartment. Anton, always the goofy one, jumped back in surprise at your furious tone and asked, feigning ignorance, “I’m not sure what you're talking about.”

“The message!” you ground out through clenched teeth, pointing at his phone, which he had mistakenly left behind.

As understanding seemed to dawn on him, he cursed under his breath and then smiled, which only confused you more. Why was he smiling? Shouldn’t he be trying to explain himself? Did those years together not mean anything to him?

Then he stepped closer, and instinctively, you took a step back until your back hit the wall of your apartment. His hands cupped your face as he said, “Hmm… Why would you trust the text so much? The ‘baby’ wasn’t me. The ‘baby’ was her dog, the one she asked me to take care of for a while.”

You didn’t buy it, so you pressed on, “Oh really? Then why does her username have a heart?”

He paused for a moment but answered without hesitation, even though you glared at him. “Well, maybe because that’s my mom?”

Processing that, your eyes widened. It actually made a sick sort of sense. The woman in the profile picture looked significantly older and bore some resemblance to Anton. Now you found yourself in a strange situation, filled with doubt.

You had just confronted your longtime boyfriend, your heart racing at the thought of betrayal, all sparked by a simple text while he gently held your face in his hands. “I’m sorry,” he murmured, his voice filled with sincerity.

“I’m hurt, but I’ll find it in my heart to forgive you. I could never cheat on you, Y/N,” he reassured, resting his forehead against yours, the warmth of his skin anchoring you in that moment.

It took you back to when your love was fresh and innocent, when you were just seventeen, lost in each other’s world. Those years apart felt like an eternity, and as you closed your eyes, you longed for the sweetness of his touch, the electric thrill of his lips on yours.

The kiss deepened, a beautiful melody played by your lips as you moved together in perfect sync. He pulled away just enough to catch his breath before diving back in, his tongue tracing gentle patterns that sent shivers down your spine.

You felt the rhythm of your tongues entwining, a lovely exploration you had only ever dreamed of. You had talked about waiting for one another, yet now you felt the exhilarating unknown of your connection. His hands traveled up your shirt, igniting tingles on your skin, and as he broke the kiss to rest his forehead against yours, the world around you faded away.

“Can I touch you more?” he asked, his hands gliding under your shirt as he looked at you with such intensity and love, as if he had been waiting for this moment forever. The truth was, both of you were a bit inexperienced in this area, but let’s be honest, you both wanted to explore… so you nodded.

Before long, his hands were cupping your breasts beneath your shirt and bra. He was touching your bare skin. You could feel both of your breaths hitching; it was something new for the two of you after all.

You feel Anton's warm breath on your face as he leans in close, his lips softly brushing against yours in a tender kiss. "I can... really touch, right?" he murmurs, looking for your confirmation before pulling you closer, his strong arms wrapping around you. His tongue dances with yours as the kiss deepens, sending tingles through your body.

When you nod, he breaks the kiss, and his hands move with a swiftness that takes your breath away. Your shirt and bra are discarded in one smooth motion, leaving your bare skin exposed to his hungry gaze. His thumbs find your nipples, rubbing the sensitive buds until they harden into tight peaks. You can't help but let out a soft moan as waves of pleasure wash over you, your back pressed firmly against the wall.

Suddenly, you're airborne as Anton scoops you up in his arms, cradling you securely against his chest. A warm feeling envelops you, and you can't help but wish that at least one of you had some experience with this. "You don't mind, right?" he asks, his voice tinged with uncertainty as he lays you down gently on the bed.

"Yeah, but..." you trail off, a hint of nervousness creeping into your tone. "Do you know how to...? At least one of us should know what we're doing."

Anton crawls on top of you, his powerful body hovering over yours. He leans down, planting a soft kiss between the valley of your breasts before looking up at you from between them. A sheepish grin spreads across his face. "I may have watched some... for scientific purposes, of course," he adds with a playful wink.

His arousal is evident, a hardened bulge straining against the fabric of his pants. It brushes against your jeans, sending shivers through both of you.

Your eyes flutter shut as Anton unbuttons his pants, the sound of fabric sliding against fabric filling the room. He discards them on the floor, along with your own jeans, the cool air brushing against your now bare skin. His large hand envelops your smaller one, guiding it towards his clothed bulge. You both hitch a breath as your fingers make contact, his arousal evident beneath the thin fabric.

"See what you do to me?" he whispers, his voice low and husky with need. You swallow hard, your heart thumping in your chest as he pushes his boxers down, and you see him, all hard and long, your eyes widening as a deep blush spreads across your cheeks at the exposed sight of him, vulnerable to you.

"Baby, you wanna put it in or do I?" he asks, unapologetic and direct, his tone incredulous. You squirm under him and look away, embarrassment exuding like a palpable scent.

"That's not quite. decent," you mumble, your voice barely more than a whisper.

Anton chuckles, a low, rich sound that sends shivers down your spine. "For what we're about to do, I don't think we should care about being decent," he says with a raised brow and a playful smirk tugging at the corners of his mouth as your clothes join his on the floor.

Again, his hand bumps against yours to move it to his bare cock. You can feel every ridge and vein beneath your fingertips, the heat of his skin searing against your own. Your shyness returns, but there's no denying the effect your touch has on him. He groans and his hips bulge slightly as your hand is constricted around his length.

"Have you never slept with anyone?" you ask, a note of skepticism creeping into your voice because of how confident he seemed. He shakes his head, the dark locks falling across his forehead.

"It's because I love you and I trust you," he breathes, words stuttered over a guttural curse as your hand tightens its grip. "Fuck.”

Your grip tightens on the shoulder of Anton as his cock teases your wetness, the head slapping lightly against your pussy. He lets out a sigh as that anticipation builds between you and him. "I am going to put it in," he whispers, his gaze searching yours for any sign of disapproval. Finding none, he slowly pushes forward, the tip of his cock breaching your entrance.

A shiver of agony rips across you as your cherry is broken, drops of blood trickling down into your pussy. Tears well up from your squeezed eyes, your body tensing against this strange sensation. Anton buries his face in the crook of your neck, his own breathing in ragged gasps. "It—h-hurts—" your voice cracks, the words barely audible.

He lifts his head, his eyes meeting yours as he asks, "Should I pull out?" Despite the guilt etched on his face, you shake your head stubbornly. "No, I want to do it." Your walls clench around him, your body instinctively trying to accommodate his size.

Anton takes a sharp breath of air. He waits a few moments before pushing deeper. A scream tears from your throat, your body arching off the bed as he sheathes himself fully inside you. Tears stream down your face, and he leans down, capturing your lips in a tender kiss as he stills, allowing you to adjust to the intrusion.

"This is good, right? You're not scared now. are you?" he whispers against your lips, his hips rocking gently, your body slowly relaxing as it grows accustomed to the stretch.

"Mm." is all you can say, your mind dazed by the shocks of the sensations. His cock spasms inside you, and you and he are suddenly acutely aware of the crimson stain spreading across the sheets. Concern flickers in his eyes, but he knows this is normal, a testament to your lost innocence.

"It's okay, baby. It's supposed to hurt a little the first time," Anton reassures you, his voice soft and soothing. He kisses your tears away, his lips trailing along your cheek and down your neck. "I've got you. We'll go slow."

He starts to move, his hips rocking gently against yours, easing you into the rhythm. Each thrust sends a wave of pleasure mixed with discomfort, your body struggling to adapt to the foreign sensation of being filled so completely.

"Breathe, Y/N. In and out," he coaches, his own breathing ragged as he fights to maintain control. "Tell me how it feels. If it's too much, I'll stop."

You whimper, your nails digging into his shoulders as you try to focus on the instructions. "I-It's intense," you manage, your voice trembling. "But don't stop. I want to feel all of you."

NOTE FROM SENA , this was genuinely just supposed to be a drabble, how the hell is this 1.8k words 😭💕

© fanbasetwo | tumblr

[revelboo]

Hello. Your stories are beautiful. Can I ask you write something with Optimus Prime IDW? Thank you very much in advance. ^^

Sure

Gravity Pt 7

IDW Optimus x Reader

• You’re dancing again and he watches from the corner of his optic as he works, one foot sliding sideways before you shift your weight and spin. Servos stilling on his keyboard, he rumbles softly. Likes to watch you move, the way you can twist and bend like you’re boneless. And you catch him watching, flashing your little teeth at him with a laugh. “When I was a kid, my mom was obsessed with living out her dumb ballerina dreams through me,” you say, arms above your head. “Bet she’s rolling in her grave that I ended up an exotic dancer.”

• “Exotic?” He asks and he’s so innocent, it’s sweet. Running through the moves helps you relax, gives your worry and tension an outlet. You wonder what the big guy would think of you if you actually explain it to him, your slide from rebellious teenager to desperate adult. Because working in that dump was only the latest in a string of bad decisions. Every attempt you make to claw your way out of the gutter only driving home that maybe that’s where you belong. You’d resigned yourself to it, gotten tougher and blunter out of necessity, but somehow you can’t make yourself tell him that. He’s just this pinnacle of good and right. And he might not touch you so kindly or at all if he knew how awful you really are. “You were alone?” He asks when you don’t respond. Worrying over you like he always does.

• Blowing out a breath, you rake your fingers through your hair to send it into disarray and stare up at him. Little teeth sinking into your bottom lip as you wave a hand at him. “Don’t worry about it, big guy,” you tell him, but your smile doesn’t reach your eyes. “I can take care of myself.” You can, but still. You’re his to care for and protect, but he won’t pry or push. Hopes you’ll open up to him eventually. Entrust your burdens to him.

• Reaching out slowly as if giving you the option to avoid his touch, he hovers a servo just in front of you and you lean into it, wrapping your arms around that big digit. “I know you can, but I’ll still here if you need me,” he says and the that deep, rumbling voice rolls through you. Makes you realize that you’ve stopped plotting escape or even looking for an opportunity. That you don’t want to go back to your old life. There’s no one left to care for you or even notice that you’ve disappeared except your creditors anyway. Sure, Optimus is only invested in you to keep his own people safe and out of a weird sense of honor, but you want to pretend he really cares. That you belong here and that this time home won’t be ripped out of your fingers.

• “Sure,” you say, little arms hugging his servo and the feel of your heart beating against him. So small, but you try so hard to be independent. Not asking him for anything, even though he’d try to find you whatever you need to be happy. Smiling all the time like you are now, even though it’s brittle. Pretending nothing touches you, when he can tell it does. And all he can do is wait for you to trust him. To really talk to him, because until then he’ll hoard those details of your past that you accidentally let slip.

Previous

[aheathen-conceivably]

Warm air settled over Strangerville as Antoine spent his weeks at home. For days he did little but enjoy the quiet rhythm of life, helping Zelda with work or waiting for Violette to return home from school. All he wanted was to spend every moment that he could with them, storing away memories for the sleepless nights he knew awaited him in the near future. Only there was still one thing he had to do before he went back on the road, so one day in Spring he made the long trek up the hill to Hines Ranch.

Violette was by his side, mostly because she had hardly ever left it since he returned, but also because she never missed an opportunity to visit Hines Ranch now that her days there were few and far between. The whole walk she vacillated between chattiness and moody sighs, trying to make her displeasure about his imminent departure known while still wanting to talk to him. 

Every time she did, his resolve crumbled. Whatever other difficulties he faced leaving again paled next to this: disappointing her over and over again each time her childish joy turned to loneliness right before his eyes. It was all he could do to give her every bit of attention she wanted while he was here, so that there was never any request too big or misbehavior worth reprimanding.

Because deep down, he felt like she was right to treat him this way. He had seen how much her hair had grown and how desperately she needed new dresses. Even if he knew that leaving meant he could give her that and more, it was at the expense of missing so much.

The farmyard was quiet as they approached, the pens where Antoine had learned to wrangle horses empty and the man he sought nowhere to be seen. He took Violette by the hand and walked toward the barn, betting that Abe and his horses were in the cool shade of the afternoon. As soon as they drew near a small voice sang out from the darkness beyond. “Lottie!”

She hesitated briefly, pulling at Antoine’s hand as Will appeared at the stall doors. “I should have known you were near. Silver didn’t seem nearly as angry this feeding. Wanna come and see her?”

Immediately, Violette let go of Antoine’s hand and ran toward Will; but as she reached him she seemed to remember that if she turned her back, her father might disappear. So she kept her face turned even as Will guided her to the horses. Antoine’s heart ached as he looked at her. “Go on, little Princess. I’m right behind you.”

She ran directly into the enclosure without an ounce of fear. Silver neighed happily before looking up toward Antoine; then she brought her ears forward and turned her attention to Violette. As he looked at them, it seemed almost foolish to think of how many weeks he had spent calmy and hesitantly winning the horse over when his daughter's intense energy and loud laugher had immediately done the same.

He wondered what exactly it was that Silver sensed in her that made her so calm. Maybe it was her fearlessness that he himself had come to admire, or the unabashed way her emotions came to her without thought or filter, like a storm in the desert sending clouds of dust through the sky.

Antoine’s thoughts were interrupted by heavy footfall that he would have recognized anywhere. He turned toward the sound while the two children stayed preoccupied. “Judging by that new tie, I take it you’re not here to get back to work, are ya?” 

Forgetting why he had come for a moment, Antoine allowed himself a smile before he took his friend’s outstretched hand. Then he glanced back at Violette, trying to ensure that she wasn’t listening. He knew that any mention of the next tour was guaranteed to send her sulking, but she had already begun to whisper conspiratorial plans to Will while she pointed at the caged horses.

“I’m afraid not.” Antoine cleared his throat nervously, guilt washing over him that he had come here to quit a job that had been given to him in good faith. Before the first tour he had told Abe that it was only temporary, and maybe he had hoped it was. But there was no denying the opportunity anymore. “Jo’s booked up two more tours. I hope I’m not putting you out too terribly by leaving with so little notice."

A bright smile overtook Abe's face, one that Antoine immediately recognized as genuine pride. "Nonsense! I believe congrats are in order. Will's old enough to help now anyhow, and if need be there’s still no shortage of men after a job. No replacing you with them horses though, so might as well give it a go on my own for a while.”

Guilt settled deeper in Antoine’s stomach as he realized what he had already suspected: Abe had never needed his work. He had done it to help him when he had been at his lowest. The bright smile stayed on his face. “Want to come inside for a cup of coffee? Day’s mostly done anyway. Besides, I would like to hear where that guitar has been. Will?” His gaze went over Antoine’s shoulder, snapping Will’s eyes to immediate attention even while Violette’s continued to wander the stalls, “No leaving the farmyard, you know the rules.”

Settled inside the cool wooden walls of the farmhouse, Abe set down a tray of coffee still steaming from the stove. He poured a steady stream of coffee into each mug as he spoke. “So how was it out there?”

Antoine reached out for his cup, letting the scent wash over him like he would after a long day’s work. “It had its moments.”

Abe looked into his cup the same that way Antoine was, his voice taking on a sort of melancholy tone that sounded just as rooted in the past as it was the present. “I reckon alot of folk will act like it should be easier. Making your living playing music rather than working somewhere like here. But it has its own pains. I know.”

Their conversation seemed to flow easier after that, discussing how the mountains grew taller as the road led further from New Mexico, or how this year’s cattle drive just didn’t seem to be getting any better. Eventually their rusted pot stopped steaming and the seemingly endless stream of coffee ran dry, but their shared laughter felt just as warm.

Only the sun beams angling through the Western windows told them how much time had really passed, and Abe looked down at his empty cup one final time. "Come on, I'll walk you out. Lord knows we'll have to go looking for Lottie and Will." Antoine rose to his feet behind him, a good natured laugh leaving his lips as his chair scaped against the floor.

By the time they emerged from the house, the early afternoon sun was shining on the sand and the heat had begun to abate. In the distance, children’s laughter could be heard, most certainly from beyond the farmyard. A small smile played on Abe’s face as he looked out toward the distant voices. “You know he only breaks that rule when your girl is here?”

“I’ll talk to her first thing when we get home…”

Abe waved his hand dismissively. “Don’t. It’s good for them to feel a bit independent 'round this age. Besides,” his eyes narrowed ever so slightly as his voice grew quiet, “I worry he follows my rules to a fault sometimes. Life will hit him hard one day.”

Quiet fell between them as the laughter came closer and footsteps rang out across the mesa. Antoine shuffled his feet, conscious of the lingering words he wanted to say. “‘Suppose they heard our voices, didn’t they? Bet they’ll claim they were only just over the fence.”

Abe looked in their direction, letting the sun hit his eyes. “Sure will. And we’ll pretend like it’s the truth.” He brought his hand up to his face, ostentatiously to shield it from the sun, but also to ensure that it wasn’t visible as he spoke. “Just don’t be a stranger, will you? No need for work if you want to bring your girl by.”

Antoine cleared his throat, the words he had really come here to say finally bubbling to the surface. "Of course. And, Abe - thank - thank you. For the work I mean - for - for everything since we’ve been here. Zelda and I - we appreciate it.”

The quiet that fell between them was one of understanding, and from the corner of his eye Antoine saw Abe give a quick nod of his head. Then, right on cue, their children rounded the fence, their hands interlocked and their faces full of joy.

[gikairan]

Ill add to this a little -

Corypheus created a dragon thrall in the events of Inquisition to make himself functionally immortal, which is almost identical to what the Evunaris did.

.... But no one at that time would have known the Evunaris did such a thing. So how the hell did he learn that? Its too much of a coincidence to BE a coincidence, if you ask me.

My guess is theres only 2 characters we've seen that have any idea about the dragon thralls before the events of Veilguard:

Solas, who we know was in contact with Corypheus before the events of Inquisition - but specifically objected to the enslaving of a living creature, and obviously not particularly fond of the declaring yourself a god thing.

..... And possibly Mythal. Fragments of fragments that saw what the other Evunaris were likely doing after her death. After all, she probably wanted to keep her eye on things and find her opportunity.

When Corypheus' image is shown, look whose under him :)c.

Those ones also get replaced:

Compared to Meredith and Orsino:

Who stay the same The equivalent circle for DAO is a dead body, so no influence from the Executors there.

Also, putting Flemeth-Mythal there is a weird choice! Shes relevant to DAI, yes, but far less relevant than Solas. Unless, of course, shes just as relevant to the Executors plans as Corypheus was.

Corypheus definitely seems an unknowing pawn of the Executors, and he got the idea of the dragon thrall from them.

It also might explain why Mythal didnt really fight Solas? She knew she had plans in motion to deal with him.

I think theres something There in all this that really DOES tie it all back to Mythal, but maybe someone else can connect it all a little better? 😅

My biggest snag is - how much does Morrigan know, and how much does she agree? Will she inform people of the Executors and try and stop them, or will she become an anatagonist?

The Poison Fruit Ripens

#defendingtheending here we go

First of all mega super ultra spoilers for the ending teaser that Steam says like… 6% ? Of players have seen? So you’ve been warned. No cuts baby, it’s Miyazaki style

Okay, so it’s the Executors, and they’re probably coming across the sea in the next game (if EA doesn’t nuke BW), from what I can gather. I mean, this is fine from a lore perspective. All we knew about those people before is that 1) they are mysterious 2) they are from over there, across the ocean

And now they’re maybe connected to the revealed Qunari lore, which I am ! So excited to have! We already knew that the Qunari fled across the ocean for unspecified reasons, and that going back there was Not A Thing. But now we know that they left because of the (probably metaphorical?) Devouring Storm, which could be connected to the Executors. What are the odds that there are two separate Huge Bad Things Over There that both want to destroy Thedas? Probably is just one big thing— also the title Executor implies they are doing the bidding of someone else, so whatever the Qunari were talking about could be it. (They also talked about being agents of someone else’s will in the Inquisition War Table quest).

So the cinematic shows a bunch of our prominent villains from the previous games being influenced in some way by the Executors. Which I think people are upset about, but I think it’s fine because:

- They did not really specify the manner of influence. I would be annoyed if they retconned Loghain’s decision to leave Cailan on the battlefield because it makes him interesting, but they didn’t say that. They just said they influenced his decisions. They could have done that by stoking his paranoia about Orlais, or by planting Arl Howe to influence him after the battle. He did a lot of OOC stuff while he was King Regent, and this could be a chance to explain what didn’t make sense for his previously established character and was just put in there to make him seem Very Evil.

- They also were around some people doing a blood magic ritual… there weren’t enough of them to be the Magisters, technically, but that is usually what it looks like when we see them in DA art so I’m going to assume that’s them for now. I mean that’s wild if that’s what it is bc that was such a long time ago? Thee guys have really been playing the long game I guess

- The other person they directly influenced seems to be Bartrand, which is really easy because who the fuck gave him that damn map? We NEVER found out who pointed Bartrand to the Thaig! Someone did it, and they probably did it on purpose! It may as well be these guys

- the rest of the villains don’t get guys whispering to them, so I have to assume they mean to imply that they just set up the circumstances that would lead to these people gaining power. I mean someone sent the Carta to the Vimmark mountains, right? And there was like some weird demon there, too.

-So basically they’re just implying that these people have been manipulating events to make sure that shit in Thedas is hitting the fan all at once, which does kind of explain the frankly improbable number of world-ending events that have happened during the Dragon Age. I mean, three Blights, two Magisters, two Evanuris, Antaam invasion, major mage rebellion, Templar schism, and the death of the Southern Divine? It’s only been like 50 years!!! Before the Dragon Age there had only been four Blights since the Ancient Age! Shit does not normally happen this fast in Thedas

I think the phrase itself is pretty direct (also giving Southern Reach vibes). All this chaos they helped sew is reaching its culmination, and now they’re getting ready to cash in the chips. They’re coming to Thedas at the moment that all the great powers are at their weakest, when there’s basically no one to oppose them. Tevinter? Fucked. Qunari? No military anymore. Antiva? Haha! lol, even. Fereldan? Basically gone. Orlais? In shambles. Free Marches? Decimated. Anderfels? There’s like 100 Wardens left in a swamp. Nevarra? I actually don’t know, maybe the lichlords can do something. Maybe Rivain could field some token resistance if they didn’t get hit by the Antaam too badly, but that’s kind of it IMO. This is THE time to come in and conquer(?) the land, or whatever they’re trying to do. Kill everybody?? Turn them into Darkspawn? Who knows!

Some speculation about what could be done to repel invasion:

- shit ton of blood magic

- fix titans, wake them up??? But idk if they’d be into it

- adaari, but idk if there are that many

- people with dragon blood, like the Theirins, are maybe super special and can do things?

- pirates, baby!!! Woooooo!

- I guess Mythal could know something? She can see the future a bit

- dragon army! Dragon army!!

[youareatragedy]

As much as I hate Feyre, I genuinely sometimes feel bad for how SJM uses her. SJM never seems to take mental health issues seriously in her books, and I think she made Feyre’s character worse in ACOMAF by making her look even more foolish. I can’t believe someone who went to all that effort for Tamlin would just trust and believe Rhysand to that degree in such a short time. And yeah yeah people heal from trauma differently, but this is the same guy who literally degraded her in front of all of Prythian, humiliated her, and taunted the person she thought was the love of her life for months.

SJM made Feyre seem so easily manipulated and childish—not even naive, just childish. And then, the moment she becomes fake 'High Lady' she’s somehow both self righteous and constantly bragging about her "powerful family” at every opportunity like she’s above everyone and everyone should bow to her husband. After the war, she opens a painting studio but still doesn’t care about the lives of the females in her court outside of Velaris. This.. all of this while being mad at Tamlin for doing something basic like collecting taxes—something a functioning government has to do.

I honestly don’t get what SJM is trying to do with Feyre. Time and time again, she clearly makes Feyre her self-insert. Is she admitting that the only feminism that matters is white feminism? That the moment SJM married her husband (who she claims is Rhys), she lost her agency and he became her handler? Is this a cry for help? I just don’t get it.

So yeah, sometimes I feel bad for Feyre. She’s so SO young, and her husband is 500 years older than her—we should hold him waaayyy more accountable for every shitty thing Feysand does. But the mystery of Feyre’s bad character progression always makes me wonder: did SJM do it on purpose, or does she truly just not see the problem? (I’m leaning towards the latter because her fans—a lot of them—also can’t see what the problem is with Feysand and the IC.)

[littleslaywrites]

pas de deux- adagio | spencer reid x bau!reader 

pt 2 of pas de deux - based on request by @kakamixoxo

summary: you substitute for your friend who is a ballet teacher, and spencer helps you work out your lesson plans. set like 3 months after part one. 

word count: 1.3k

cw: f!reader, literally just straight fluff, brief mention of past injury

Spencer was never graceful. You’d seen him trip over enough curbs to know. Luckily for him, you thought his awareness was endearing, like a six foot tall baby deer. 

You were the opposite, poised from your years of ballet training. You were finally off of your crutches and back in the studio. When you first started your internship at Quantico, you took classes at a local studio. The teacher who was in charge of your class became one of your first friends in Virginia, and you had stayed close ever since. 

When she called you asking to fill in for her while she took a week long vacation, you jumped at the opportunity. You thought it’d be the perfect way to get back into dance after your recovery. 

One night after work, you went to the studio to work on what you planned on teaching. Spencer insisted on going with you, claiming he was worried you’d hurt yourself again. Truthfully, he just wanted to watch you dance. 

Spencer was your biggest fan. You try not to think about the money he’d spent on tickets to your shows, gifts themed for each one, and date nights afterwards. So, naturally, if he had the chance to see you alone, in your natural habitat of the ballet studio, he was going to take the opportunity. 

Arriving at the studio, you changed into a leotard and sweatpants while Spencer sat on the wood floor of the studio. He felt awkward surrounded by the walls lined with barres and mirrors, your world feeling foreign to him. 

You step into the room, joining him on the floor to stretch. 

“You know, it’d help to have a student to practice my lesson plans on,” you say, stretching to the side as you touch your nose to your knee. 

“Would it?” Spencer replies. 

“I’d get stretching if I were you,” you say. He tries to follow your lead, but his inflexibility hinders him. You giggle at him, trying to figure out how to help him follow along. 

Eventually, you give up, standing to lead him to the barre. 

“Since the class is for early elementary schoolers, everything is for beginners, which means you’ll be perfect for testing it out,” you say as you take hold of the barre, facing him.

He mirrors your action, saying “I’m glad to know I have the same skill set as a five-year-old.”

You giggle at him, and turn out your feet into first position. “Can you do that for me?” you ask, watching his feet.

He clumsily shuffles his feet along the floor, gripping onto the barre. 

“Not like that Spencer, turn out from your hips.”

He nods, but it’s clear he doesn’t understand from the way he scoots around. “Like this?” 

“Not exactly... here, let me—“ you adjust him yourself, grabbing just above his knee to try to pry him into first position. 

He gets it down after about a minute of fumbling, finally in a successful first position, despite his arms still swinging without grace. “Is this right?” he asks, proud of himself. 

“Sure,” you say, letting himself bask in his small victory. “So first we’ll do the plié combination.”

“That means ‘fold’ in French,” he replies.

“Right,” you dismiss him, trying to move onto the next set of instructions. Before you can, he bends at the waist, assuming the step based on the translation.

“Oh, Spencer, that’s not—“ you pull him up by the back of his shirt. You giggle at him, causing him to follow suit. “Your genius doesn’t exactly extend to ballet, honey.”

He pulls you in for a quick kiss. You let him, but before he can prolong it, you step back. “You know, you’re not as helpful as I expected you to be.”

He juts out his lip in an exaggerated pout. “I’m trying my best,” he sighs, looking up at you with the puppy dog eyes he knows you can’t resist. 

You sigh, matching his pretend exasperation. “It’s just a bend at the knees, like this,” you say while modeling the move. His eyes are trained on you, trying to take in every movement you make. He tries to match you, but his height makes everything he does look rather gangly. 

You try to fake that you’re impressed, but he sees right through you. “Maybe it’s because I’m still in my work clothes,” he gives you a goofy smile. 

You smile back. “That has to be it,” you reply, giving up on the idea of trying to teach him. 

“When do we get to the part where I lift you up?” he asks, moving close to you, wrapping his arms around your waist. 

“Usually you have to master the basics first,” you raise your eyebrows at him, “but we can give it a try.” He releases you to swiftly grab you just above your knees, carrying you to the center of the floor. 

“Spencer, I don’t think this is an official move,” you giggle, feet wiggling in the air. 

“Then I invented it, so they can name it after me.”

“The Reid Potato Sack lift?” you tease him as he sets you on the floor, hands sliding down your back as you roll off his shoulders and put your feet on the ground. He keeps hold of you, swaying as his arms cage you close to his chest. 

“What am I supposed to teach these kids tomorrow?” you say when he leans down and captures your lips in a light kiss. 

“Are you saying I’m a distraction?” He pinches your side. 

You squeal, responding with a simple “yes”.

He smiles, backing up while taking one of your hands. He brings it above your head to prompt you to turn. You twirl under him, looking at his smile when you make your way around to face him again. 

“Teach me a lift,” he says, eyes telling you it’s a genuine request. 

“Okay,” you start, moving so you’re both facing the mirror. “Here’s an easy one. I’m going to lift my leg in an arabesque and you'll lift me like that.” 

He nods, hanging on to every word you say. You move one of his hands under your ribs as you raise your leg. You move his other to the top of the thigh that’s raised in the arabesque. 

“You’ll just bend your knees and lift,” you say. He does as you say, lifting you until you’re above his head. You raise your arms, scrutinizing your technique in the mirror. 

Spencer is also watching you in the mirror, but not to judge your extensions or turnout. Instead, he was admiring you. He could feel the love you had for ballet in your focus. He loved to see you in your element. Of course, he saw the way you excelled as a profiler from the time you started your internship, but the passion you had for your art was what he truly admired about you. 

In that moment, he thought he could watch you forever, but you interrupted his thoughts saying, “you ought to put me down now, Spencer.” 

Reluctantly, he eased you to the ground, wrapping his arms around your shoulders as you both faced the mirror. 

“I think we might have actually found a ballet step you’re good at,” you say, smiling at the way he leans down and rests his head on your shoulder. 

“All I did was stand there,” he replies, smiling at your reflection in the mirror. 

“Exactly,” you say, blushing under his stare. 

His hands move down to your waist, and he pulls you to face him. “I’ll stand and do nothing forever,” he says as he rests his forehead against yours, “if I can watch you dance."

You smile as he kisses your forehead and pulls back to look at you. Reluctantly, you pull away, grabbing your phone out of your bag to figure out the music you were going to use in class. 

Plugging it into the speakers, you glance into the mirror to see Spencer still staring at you with a lovesick smile on his face. 

“Stop staring,” you say smiling. “It’s distracting me.”

“Only when you stop distracting me by being so cute.” 

You roll your eyes at the cheesy comment, heart secretly jumping at the obvious love he had for you.

[bridgetoesoteria]

🌛Empowering Messages From Hecate🌜

(top to bottom)

I have been wanting to post a spirit guide messages reading for awhile, but this idea really clicked for me.

For those of you not familiar with the goddess Hecate, she is one of the bad ass goddesses. She has a really interesting story for anyone that is into greek mythology.

Pile 1

You have more options than you realize. You are more powerful that you allow yourself to be. Some of you may have a domineering figure in your life that you are trying to separate from. I think you will probably know who or what this is, because it is a chapter you know you need to close out. If you have been fighting some kind of uphill battle it is okay to walk away. There are good things waiting on the other side of this decision. Amazing things that you deserve. There's nothing wrong with being your own person. Sometimes you will have to go it alone.

Affirmation Card: Today I am resourceful; Today I will turn anything into an opportunity.

Pile 2

You should stand in your power fully. I'm not sure what that means but the vibe I am getting is that you have a lot of internal strength you can rely on. I think right now would be a good time to manifest some bigger things, because I keep hearing "ask and it is given". For some of you, this could be you milking a certain situation and getting what you can out of it. For example, your job didn't appreciate you much before, but now you have another offer from a different company. The ball is in your court now. If you wanted to stay at your current job, you could ask for anything you want and probably get most of it. So, I think this kind of energy is surrounding you at this time. This could honestly be your energy in general but you don't tap into it often enough. Start using your gifts and connections to benefit you!

Affirmation Card: Today I am adventurous; Today I will get out of my comfort zone and try something I've never tried before.

Pile 3

All piles kind of had a theme of "standing in your power", but I guess that makes sense given the topic. This pile seems to have more fear. Fear of letting go. Some of you want a divorce or to back out of a wedding? That is what the imagery looks like. For others of you it's like someone is coming back around, trying to make you second guess leaving them behind? You are being encouraged to remember who you are, and who you are becoming. Don't regress to past versions of yourself or let the pain of the past keep you chained up. If there is happiness and ease entering your life, embrace it. It doesn't mean something is wrong, it means things are going right! Finally, you don't owe anyone shit. You have new, amazing things to look forward to. You have every right to move on.

Affirmation Card: Today I am brave; Today I will step up to every challenge with courage. (Accidentally pulled two cards! I confused myself). Today I live in the present; Today I will start with a smile. I am in control of my attitude

I hope you enjoyed your reading! If you would like a personal reading, check the pinned post for info.

~ K

[leoleolovesdc]

Stephanie (at least throught the 90s-00s) had a very discernible violent streak and morals that don’t really line up with tim and the other bats around her. This is kinda lost on modern comics, either because of how much she’s being sidelined or as an attempt to soften her character and make her more likeable, but i genuinely think it was a interesting part to her characer that we should bring back.

Steph is sort of angry and reckless, she became spoiler without any training because she needed to get her father out of her and her mother’s life permanently, and she didn’t care for the implications of what she had to do to get there.

In her debut, you can see how desperate and impatient she is, she was tired of all the harm arthur caused to her family and of the helplessness of never being able to do something about it. It’s just a lot of bottled up anger you can tell she’s been struggling with for years, so when she finally finds a way to channel it onto something good (you can argue on how much good beating up criminals would really do, but this is from steph’s pov) it immediately leads up to her being ready to murder her father on the first opportunity she gets.

And even after bruce convinces stephanie to Not Kill Him, she still expresses multiple times how she doesn’t care for men like her father and saving them is a waste of her time. She is usually pretty willing to let “bad” people die because, as she sees it, their lives aren’t more important then the ones they ruined.

I wouldn’t say steph has very “strong” opinions on murder like jason, for example, does, but she definetly has a detachment to bruce, cass and tim’s morals that end up pushing her into a place of distrust with all of them at some point or another. She is willing to adapt to what her teammates (on the occasions where she did get to feel like a part of a team) expect of her in a mission because she values their opinion of her and wants to receive proper support and training, but it doesn’t make her dislike the kind of people who’s lives she is told to care about any less.

In the short time steph had as robin that trend of loose morals in comparison to the bats really continues, like in that one story where a guy she hit recklessly doesn’t die by pure luck and when bruce is scolding her about it she just goes “he was a serial killer, so really, why should i even care?”, or when she has that talk with batgirl after having to be stopped from beating the shit out of the penguin and ponders a bit about “when does it end? Am i really that wrong for wishing we could just take guys like this out of our lives?”.

It’s a very noticeable highlight on this aspect of stephanie right near the end, and it builds up to when she is fighting fo her life against black mask and finally manages to get the upperhand. It’s not the first time she has someone’s life on her hands but it is the first time she hesitates, maybe because the stakes are higher now, but mainly it’s just because of how guilty she feels for the gang war, for fucking it up with batman and for orpheus’ death. When she lets black mask live it’s not because she thinks it’s the right thing or because she doesn’t want to blow his brains out, it’s out of respect for bruce, because she feels like she already ruined everything, she should have known better and she owes him something, so she does what batman would do. And then that gets her killed.

So, let’s be real, why should i think that after all of this, after her father ruined her mother’s life, after she watched hundreds of children get killed and traumatized by monsters like the penguin, after the one time she tries to follow the damn code it kills her, should she have any notion that murdering is wrong if when she’s looking back on it, killing a bitch would have solved all of her problems from day one?

Being a Stephanie Brown fan is so annoying sometimes because you read about this child consistently trying to commit murder since her literal debut just for some random writer and those “batboys” mfs go around saying that she thinks murder is wrong

[oddthumbswetsleeves]

Hiding - Oneshot

Inspired by this post by @crumb-crumblet-s-crumbington <3

“Have you heard from B today?”

Elita-1 looked up from her datapad at her former-incompetent-subordinate turned leader. He looked stressed, or maybe nervous? It was hard to tell ever since he received the matrix.

“No. I haven’t seen him since the last time he messed up putting the supplies in storage.’ She looked back at the forms she was filling out. “He’s probably avoiding us cause he’s embarrassed.

“Embarrassed?” Optimus sounded confused. Elita realised she had neglected to tell the prime about B’s latest incident.

“He put a lot of the supplies he was sorting into the wrong places. I mean, seriously! I gave him possibly the easiest job I could have, and he still messed it up.” Optimus didn’t look like her answer had put him at ease. “He’ll be fine. If he’s embarrassed it might teach him to listen a little more.”

“Just-“ They met optics, “Tell me if you see him, or if you can get through to him. He won’t answer my comms.” He sighed. “I’m worried.”

He definitely looked nervous now.

“Yeah, sure.” Elita went back to reading. Optimus was silent for a moment, as if he wanted to say something else, but left quickly.

Once he was out of audial-range she tried B-127’s comm, certain Optimus was exaggerating. B never missed an opportunity to blabber.

“B”

Nothing

“B-127, respond.”

Still nothing

“B, this isn’t funny. Answer me.”

Silence

Elita never thought she would be able to use that word to describe the yellow bot. She started feeling slightly worried before it was replaced with something else.

How dare he hide away from his duties as an Autobot because he was embarrassed. He wasn’t the only one struggling with his new status. Being the Autobot commander and essentially second-in-command of Cybertron was exhausting. Every moment she wasn’t recharging or refuelling she was working. B was not going to get away with skirting his duties.

She was gonna find him.

Where the frag was he?

Elita had spent nearly half the orn asking around for the little mech. No one had seen him since she had. Not Jazz, not Ratchet, not even Prowl, who was usually aware of all Autobot activity. The other scouts had gibed her about B-127’s unrivalled skills in what they called “Extreme Hide and Seek”.

“If B’s hiding from you there’s no chance you’ll find him” one taunted. Primus, she hated being around the scouts, nosy bunch.

“Wait, why do you think he’s hiding from me?”

“Why else would you be looking for him? He’s told us about how busy you are.” Another one answered.

“Well, you’re not helping!” She stormed off before they could peeve her off more.

Elita was definitely getting hangry, so she decided to stop to get energon before anyone could risk mentioning it to her. Everyone had really been enjoying the abundance of it. The decreasing rations had been affecting the cogless bots hard. She remembered after being transferred to waste management seeing how some of the supervisors were stealing others rations off the delivery lines for themselves. That was one of the first things she fixed, especially since many of the bots on lower levels didn’t leave their stations during their breaks. Mostly the bots on the sub-

The sub-levels

“The best hiding spots are ones that other bots don’t know exist.” B-127 told her that once while he was training to be a scout. He was mostly talking about places that taller bots couldn’t get to, but almost no one knew about the 10 extra sub-levels.

“Scrap”

The elevator rattled more the lower it went. It was also getting noticeably hotter. The doors opened and after stepping out they surprisingly didn’t close behind her. Strange. She didn’t say anything at first, trying to hear any noise that wasn’t coming from the furnace.

She felt isolated.

Even though Elita knew she could contact anyone she wanted instantly, there was just something about the room emanated loneliness, but B had to be here.

She looked around. The room was small, nothing besides the furnace, the conveyor belt, and the trash chute.

Unless…

One of the walls seemed to have a handle, and when she moved it... Another room! She pushed it over.

What on Cybertron?

The walls were lined with multicolour string lights. The room had a table and chairs, but in the chairs were 3 piles of trash. They were kind of bot shaped. She guessed one of these were what “Steve” was, who Orion supposedly killed and D-16 insisted wasn’t real. Primus this guy was weird. Just before she turned away, she saw it. There was something golden-yellow barely poking up from behind the table. Elita had to stop herself from groaning. Some hiding expert he was.

“B” He didn’t move. Elita crossed her arms.

“B-127 I can see you.” He slowly ducked out of view. Elita’s face scrunched up, “Get out here right now or so help me, I will drag you back up to Iacon by your finials.”

The bot cautiously stood up, looking anywhere except her face. Neither one said anything for a few moments. Elita tapped her finger against her arm, making sure B could hear it. He still did not say anything. Elita started feeling nervous again, B didn’t even recharge this quietly. She wouldn’t show it though, he wasn’t getting any pity from her.

“Well?” she prompted.

“Why are you down here?” He asked quietly.

“I could ask you the same thing.” Elita leaned forward, but B still didn’t look up. “Why are you hiding? Do you think I’ll just forget your screw-up if I don’t see you for a few orns?”

“I’m not hiding. You know I’m here now, you can go back to work.” He fidgeted with his servos.

“What, so you can keep sulking here?”

“I’m not sulking.” His voice was low, but a bit rough.

Had he been crying?

“Then why are you down here?”

“You were really mad at me the last time I messed up. You said I was running out of chances.”

“So?” Her gaze steeled. His breath hitched.

Was he going to cry again?

“Well, that’s what supervisors used to say to me before I would get demoted” their optics met, “and you were a supervisor…”

“So, you came down here?” She gripped her arms a bit tighter.

“I’ve never had a boss who was my friend before.” He looked down at his servos, still keeping his voice low. “I just didn’t want to see your face when you decided to give up on me.” Fluid dripped from his optics.

“Give up?” Her voice was suddenly much softer. She cleared her throat. “Why would you think I’d give up on you? We’re friends, you said it yourself.”

“Megatron was Optimus’ friend, and he dropped him to the centre of Cybertron.”

Elita felt a pang in her spark. That might have been the scariest moment of her life, including everything that happened leading up to it. B had been the one to stop her from trying to grab Orion as he plummeted. In the frenzy she might have fallen after him. B had probably saved her life.

She was definitely failing to hide her pity now.

They were both silent for a while, the furnace rumbling softly behind her. Elita sighed and walked around the table. B shrunk under her gaze. This was the first time she had ever felt bad about making a subordinate scared of her. She put her servos on his shoulders, taking care to be gentle, and bent down slightly to be at optic level with the scout.

He was definitely crying.

Elita wrapped her arms around him tightly. He tentatively moved his servos up to her back. She felt him shake.

“Are you not mad at me?” B’s voice quivered. She sighed, squeezing tighter.

“I’m not sure I am anymore.” Letting go to hold his shoulders again. He sniffled and she moved her servos to cup his face. “Why haven’t you answered any comms? Optimus is practically beside himself.”

“I didn’t know you guys were calling me.”

“What?! Is your commlink broken?” She turned his helm to look at his audials. He pulled her servos away from his face. They had tears on them.

“No.” He looked towards the furnace. “I’m pretty sure no signals reach down here from the surface.

Elita’s face scrunched. She turned away, reaching a digit up to her commlink.

“Optimus, come in.”

No response. She swore quietly.

“We’re going back to Iacon before the boss starts pulling walls down to find you.” She held her servo out. B hesitated.

“He’s looking for me?”

“Of course he is. Why wouldn’t he be?” B tapped his pedes nervously.

“I thought you guys were kinda fed up of me.” Elita chose not to address that. She grabbed his servo and pulled him towards the elevator. It was still open.

“How come these doors didn’t close behind me?”

“Cause they don’t open from this side. It’s so if somebot comes down here to get something they won’t get stuck.”

“But that means…” Her spark sank in her chassis.

“Yeah, I can’t call the elevator.”

She stared at him. She felt the rage she frequently had for Sentinel and his lackeys build up.

“So you planned on staying down here forever?” B started wringing his servos again.

“I dunno”

“Well how would you have come back up if I hadn’t found you here?”

“Optimus, Megatron and I climbed up through the chute.” He pointed at it. “I probably could have done that again.”

“Would you have?”

B didn’t answer.

“You’re coming back to Iacon with me.” She put a servo on his shoulder. “I cleared my schedule when I went looking for you so we can do whatever you want, ok?” She led him into the lift. He shrugged. “There are a couple movies I’ve been too busy to watch. We can watch them in my quarters if you want.”

“Sure” He smiled for the first time since she found him.

“We do have to go see Prime first. I’m a bit worried he has actually turned headquarters upside down in my absence.” B giggled. Elita felt a weight lift off her spark. Once the elevator started moving, she pulled him into another hug, more forcefully this time.

“Never scare me like that again, or I will actually kill you.”

“Okay”

[possiblyreallyme]

Sabo's a flirt

warning: smut, flirty Sabo.

You wouldn't expect it from him, but Sabo's a flirt. He won't catcall or grab, but he'll most certainly ask for their hand on the dancefloor and dip them low to the ground, give them a wink and ask for their name with that damn toothy grin of his, chuckling whenever the girls inevitably blushed and gave right in.

Of course the ladies swoon— from shy village girls he meets on his way to missions, to the most confident dames of the big city. Who wouldn't, really? When you have an unreasonably handsome blond acting like you're the hottest thing he's ever seen, it's impossible not to clench your thighs when he gives you that look from across the room.

"Sabo," Koala would chastise when he bowed in front of you— a girl he had never met— like a prince trying to win over the lady's heart, rolling her eyes at the way he smirked up at you and ignored her in favor of kissing your palm.

She was used to this shit, and though it was deeply annoying when her friend went on these little flirting sprees, it sure was interesting when the switch was flipped. She raised a brow when she saw Sabo's face go pink out of the corner of her eye, wondering if maybe you had flashed a tit to get him to go all red. But no, all you had done was smile and gave him a giggle, and the boy was hooked.

He tried everything in his power to win you over, from cheesy smiles and pickup lines to seductive glances and lingering touches— when he was flirting with those other girls, he had nothing to lose. But now, he couldn't stand to fumble the feeling of how your hands felt in his, or lose the opportunity to hold you close at night or bury himself between your thighs like he dreamed to. He had unintentionally found a goddess, and thank God he was smart enough as a man to know that.

"My beautiful girl," He purrs now, having won over the right to call you his long ago. "Spread your legs for me, nice 'n wide."

He hasn't stopped his flirting at all, at least not with you. He'd still woo you every day if he could, act as if you were someone he had to impress, even though he had been holding back your hair while you graciously sucked him off not but an hour before.

He's not subtle, and he doesn't want to be. He wants you to know, as he's fluttering kisses across the inside of your thighs, that you're desired and cherished more than anything else in his life.

He pulls your panties to the side and licks up your dripping folds to part your labia and collect all your mouth-watering slick, pressing a kiss to your clit just as passionately as he kisses your mouth when he's been gone for far too long, moaning at your taste and already humping the mattress to ease the rock-hard problem in his slacks.

Gulping down your juices with a sweet mewl into your cunt, he hooks his hands under your ass to pull you closer to his face and keep you still while you writhed, moaning and groaning while you tugged on his hair. No man should be that good at eating you out, but you couldn't even be embarrassed when you came on his tongue in less than five minutes, not with his praises sending vibrations from your fluttering entrance up your spine.

He's everywhere all at once when he's finally thrusting his cock in and out of you, after making you cum on his tongue a few more times and dragging out each orgasm until you were wondering if the liquid dripping down your oversensitive folds and puddling on the sheets was his drool or your own squirt. He's intertwining your fingers and pressing your hands into the sheets, then he's playing with your clit and kissing down your neck to leave deep purple hickeys on your collarbone, before sucking your hardened nipple like a candy while he's bullying your cervix like a jerk with the tip of his fat cock.

But you're always too cotton-stuffed by then to do more than let your head lull to the side, moaning his name and whining while he coos down to you like you're his toy, flirting with you and whispering the sweetest things in your ear as he wipes your drooling lips and fucking abuses your lower half with the sharpest slams of his hips against yours he can muster.

He'll cum again and again, until your tummy is puffy with all the seed in your womb and he's pushing down on the bulge to watch it practically squirt out of you, but he's not done yet.

No— he's just going to fetch the vibrator, and he'll be right back.