#so we can at least have that... as comforting as that is... not very comforting yeah. the communities arent exactly very good

[wttcsms]

⋆౨ৎ˚⟡˖࣪ adore me, mark your territory !!

ᝰ.ᐟ after having to endure locker room conversation since his blue lock days all the way up to his pro days, yukimiya realizes that if he wants to show you just how serious he is about his thoughts on his relationship with you, he needs to make his mark on you. ( fem!reader )

pairing kenyu yukimiya x reader word count 3.6k content contains corruption kink/innocence kink, loss of virginity (both you and yukki), first time, creampie, breeding kink, slightly manipulative!yukki, you two attended the same private catholic high school, mentions of purity culture, coercion, very naive reader, talks of marriage, dark(ish) content kinktober masterlist

To love someone is to know them. 

You love Kenyu Yukimiya with all your heart; you know his hopes and his dreams, his fears and the tiny voice in his head that serves to either goad or encourage him. The two of you grew up together, attending all the same Catholic private schools up ‘til he went pro fresh out of high school graduation, and you decided to attend a tiny, private all girls university. 

You know that he’s kind and funny, much more outgoing and adventurous than you. You know that he can be gentle, and that he chooses to always be gentle with you. You know that he loves you just as much as you love him. 

But while distance makes the heart grow fonder, perhaps it’s the distance that has caused this newfound unfamiliarity between the two of you.

“Kenny, I don’t… I don’t understand.” You’re lying down on your painfully small twin-sized mattress in your dorm room. Kenyu’s on top of you, his body hovering over your own. He gives you that familiar, comforting smile of his as he asks you gently (your Kenyu’s always so gentle with you), 

“We love each other, don’t we?” 

“Of course we do.” You say softly. Your arms are by your side, and you’re playing with the frills on the oversized comforter of your bed. Your whole entire room still screams girl. Yukimiya finds it endearing; he finds everything about you so damn endearing. Your floral quilts, and the stuffed animals he’s won for you from claw machines and unfairly rigged carnival games. Your fluffy comforter, and the way you always love to wear dresses, even when it’s just to attend a lecture. 

And your unwavering innocence. 

Everyone knows that Catholic private schools aren’t as pristine as the parents of the students like to claim it is, but you’re the only one who remained devout. The only one who genuinely stayed true to the lessons taught. You didn’t drink, you didn’t smoke, you didn’t sneak out. The only parties you attended were birthday parties chaperoned by a trusted adult and held in the early afternoon. You always followed the dress code and never tried to get away with folding the waistband of your school-issued skirt to make it shorter, like some of the other girls did. Hell, Kenyu had to literally ask your father for permission to date you before he asked you out. 

And while Kenyu’s always been on his best behavior, it’s not like he’s unaware of the world. He’s not naive like you. And that’s okay. One of you has to know enough to lead the other; Yukimiya’s more than happy that he’s the one taking on that role. 

The thing is, Kenyu truly does love you. It’s why he doesn’t rush you, doesn’t try to force you to go further than what you think you’re capable of, than what you think you’re allowed to go. He ignores the hard on he gets every time you two make out, the way your hips sometimes move on their own, grinding against him with no thought to strip out of your clothes and let him finish. You’ve been together since the first year of high school, and now you’re in college, and he’s playing professional soccer, and he loves you, and he still hasn’t even seen your pussy. Honestly, his closest friends tell him he must be a saint. 

But the talks in the locker room, the snide comments from his least favorite teammates, the jokes and the teasing and the mocking, condescending tones — gotta protect Yukki’s ears, can’t let him Mr. Private School hear this, as if he’d even know what we’re talking about; damn virgin — all of it is chipping away at his pacifist, mild-mannered demeanor, revealing the feral, greedy egoist that lies underneath. 

You had been so excited to hear your beloved boyfriend was flying down to your college town this weekend, just to see you! Your roommate’s out on a holiday with her parents, leaving the dorm room all to yourselves. In your cute mind, this just means more room for the two of you to hang out.

For Yukimiya, it means he has no more obstacles to get in the way of him fucking you for the first time. 

“And you know what two people who love each other do, right?” He’s still using the same pacifying, soothing tone he always uses when he’s trying to calm you down. When you skinned your knees and cried from the sting of the alcohol wipes used to clean the cuts, he had used this voice on you. When you cried at the airport because he was leaving the country to meet the team who paid an exorbitant amount to have him on their starting lineup, he had used this voice on you. Right now, you can’t understand why he’s using this voice on you. You’re not hurt; just confused. 

“Kenyu, wh-what are you talking about?” 

“I’m talking about making love, [Name].” One large palm is rubbing up and down the smooth skin of your thigh. The movement causes the thin fabric of your sundress to rise up. Yukimiya’s never touched you down there before. You don’t know why his touch feels so good, but you do understand what he’s talking about now. 

“But Kenny—” Your voice is reduced to nothing more than a nervous whisper, almost as if you’re scared someone is listening in. “—we can’t. That’s for married couples.” 

Well, if it’s any consolation, Yukimiya’s always planned on marrying you. 

He kisses your forehead, his hand never relenting from its position on your thigh. Your dress remains lifted up at an angle on one side. He can see part of your cotton panties; plain and white. If he moves his fingers up a few more centimeters, he could tug at the waistband of them. 

“I know, sweetheart. But I’ve been thinking…” His hand travels from up your thigh to rest on your hip. The one side of your dress is now all the way up, and his thumb rests on the thin waistband of your panties, rubbing reassuring circles to get you to remain calm underneath him. “We’ll get married soon, anyway, right? I love you so much that I need an outlet to show you just how much I love you.” 

“Married? Soon?” Your eyes widen. You find yourself daydreaming about marrying Yukimiya, starting a family. Yukimiya’s smile stretches wide across his handsome face. His sweet girl, he knew you’d be putty in his hands after he mentioned that. 

“Of course.” He kisses you on your lips sweetly, his hand never leaving your hip. “And I want to give you all the love a husband has for his wife. Won’t you let me, [Name]?” 

Kenyu’s always been handsome. You have a collection of all his professional photoshoots, and you know that he has a bunch of fangirls from just his looks alone. It’s so unfair of him, really, to give you that imploring look of his. You can’t say no to Yukimiya, and you think you never want to.

And so you do let him. 

Kenyu’s quick. With the speed he normally reserves for on the field, Kenyu’s mouth meets your at the same time his other hand grips your neglected hip. Now both of his hands are bunching up the fabric of your dress, pulling the skirt up to reveal your simple, plain panties. 

“Mmph.” You moan into the kiss. This is a bit different than what you two normally engage in; somehow, everything feels a lot heavier, headier. You can’t seem to think straight. All you can focus on is chasing after his lips, matching his hungry pace. 

The heat radiating off the two of you is enough for Kenyu to separate from you momentarily. The lens of his glasses are fogged up, and he grins at you, satisfied at the progress you’re making, before taking his glasses off and setting them neatly on your nightstand. 

And then he’s back to kissing you passionately again. You’re lost in the pleasure of his kisses, unknowingly bucking your hips up, not knowing why your body is craving friction, for some attention, down there. Your hands reach up to grip the front of Kenyu’s shirt, tugging at him, trying to bring him closer. You’re getting desperate, and he finds it so cute. 

“Lift your arms up for me, sweetheart.” He mumbles against your lips, and your head’s too hazy for you to properly register his request. He repeats it, still as gentle as ever with you, and this time, you manage to comply. 

“Fuck.” You don’t hear Kenyu curse often; he says it’s impolite to do so in front of his girl. He breathes out the word, and you feel shy all of a sudden as his eyes roam over your body. He tossed your dress to the side unceremoniously, and because the dress itself had padding, you decided not to wear a bra. You’re laying on your bed, nothing to protect your modesty besides your cotton panties. 

“You’re the most beautiful girl in the world. The only girl I see.” He praises you, and you don’t feel too shy anymore. 

“K-Kenyu—” You look up at him, all doe-eyed and sweet. You’re pressing your thighs together, drawing his attention to the plush of your thighs, the way hiding in between your legs is your special place that only Kenyu will be allowed to see, to touch, to taste, to love. “What do we do now?” 

He leans down, whispering in your ear in his familiar, kind voice, “Now, you lay down, and let me show you how much I love you.” 

You love Kenyu so much, you think it should be impossible for your heart to have so much room for him. You know Kenyu must feel the same way, but never before has his love for you ever felt so overwhelming. Kenyu pries your thighs apart, forcing you to open your legs for him, but you didn’t know showering you in his love meant that he was going to take his fingers and rub against the mound in your underwear. 

“W-wait, Kenny!” You yelp, trying to shut your legs, but he’s too big, too strong. He blocks the movement, keeps you nice and spread for him. “I—” You don’t know what to tell him, and you don’t know how to explain why there’s a tiny puddle gathering in the thin fabric of your panties. Sometimes, you feel funny and this starts to happen, usually after a long makeout session with your boyfriend. 

“You’re so wet for me, [Name].” He almost sounds in awe, staring down at your covered pussy almost as if in a trance. The pace he’s using is rather slow; he’s content, for now, with just stroking his fingers up and down your covered slit, fascinated with the way he can watch you slowly drench through the cotton. The wet spot only continues to grow; he bets he can get his fingers damp with your arousal soon, and he wouldn’t even have to take your panties off to do so. “Do you always get this wet for me?” 

You want to cry, and you can even feel the tears welling up in your eyes. He looks up, instantly stopping his ministrations, his concern written all over his expression. “Hey, hey.” He shushes you, peppering kisses all over your face. He’s not stroking you anymore, but his large hand is cupping your pussy, the heat of his hand encasing your special place. You’re practically throbbing against him, your cunt aching and hungry for his touch. He just has to get you to open up for him, to understand. “There’s nothing wrong with that. You’re supposed to get wet right here for me, you know that?” 

You sniffle, unsure if he’s just placating you. “Really?”

“Really.” His smile is so gentle, his tone so soothing and reassuring. He’s back to grazing his knuckles across your cunt, enjoying the way the fabric keeps on getting damper. “It means your body is happy, and it lets me know that you love me as much as I love you.” 

His other starts to tug at your waistband, dragging down your panties until he’s pulling them right off. His breath catches in his throat as he looks down and stares at your pussy for the first time. Your folds are glistening, your little clit peeking out at him, begging for him to suck on, to rub against. 

“Cute.” He tells you, tracing a finger curiously against your slit, the tip of his index finger so close to entering your clenching, unbreached hole. “I’m going to make you feel really good now, okay, [Name]? Tell me, have you ever played with yourself down here?” 

“Wha-?” You’re confused, appropriately so. The boys and girls were separated during sex education, but you remember your teacher drilling it into your heads that under no circumstances should a young girl ever touch herself. You had been confused at the time, confused as to why anyone would ever. You’ve been taught that only your husband should ever touch you right there. But Yukimiya loves you, and he’s going to be your husband, and now you’re starting to think you know why girls may want to touch themselves. You’ve felt this heat in between your thighs before, this mysterious hunger for something, but now you’re feeling it tenfold. You shake your head, too choked up to speak. 

“No? Not even like this?” You don’t expect Kenyu to insert his finger. The intrusion is foreign, but not entirely unwelcome. Your walls instinctively clench around his digit, and he has to remind himself to breathe, to remain collected, to take things slow so you can enjoy yourself properly. “You’re clamping down on just one finger.” He breathes out, curling his finger, moving it against your walls. He brushes against a spongy spot inside of you, one that has you jerking up, a shocked, pleasured moan escaping from your parted lips. “That feel good?” He asks, before adding a second finger, both of them bumping against that same sweet spot. 

Your legs feel like jelly, and you nod weakly. It does feel good. Too good. So overwhelmingly good that a foreign, euphoric sensation is taking over you. You can’t seem to control your body, and you can’t stop the flow of cute, pleasured mewls flowing from your mouth, and you manage to scream out a warning to Yuki. “S-something is—” 

A clear stream of liquid spurts out of you, splashes onto him, soaks your cute comforter. 

“Fuck, you’re amazing.” Your walls are too sensitive now, but throughout the whole process, Yukimiya never stops thrusting his fingers in and out of your inexperienced cunt. His eyes are wide, but the gleam in them is sharp, hungry, calculating. “I didn’t even get a chance to mess with your cute little clit. You came just from penetration?” He finally removes his fingers, examining the way your juices are dripping off his digits. “You didn’t just cum, you squirted.”

You turn your head, trying to bury your face in a pillow so he can’t see the embarrassed and debauched expression on your face, but he takes his dry hand and forces you to continue looking up at him.

“That’s a good thing, sweetheart.” He coos, sucking at his fingers obscenely before releasing them from his mouth with a pop!. “It means you’re perfect and all ready for me.” 

Kenyu knows that his cock is the first cock you’ve ever seen, and he’ll make damn certain that it’s the only one you’ll be seeing for the rest of your life. There’s no frame of reference for you to use, but you don’t think that men should be so big. When he frees his dick, making a show of squeezing tightly at the base and pumping it, showing off to you, you swallow hard. 

He taps the head of his cock against your swollen, needy clit, teasing the both of you. He’s losing all sense of restraint, and even rubbing the underside of his cock against your glistening folds, trying to slick up his cock so it’ll be easier to glide into your soaked cunt, is enough to make him want to cum. 

“I’m going to fuck you now, sweetheart.” His voice sounds strained, the gentle tone hanging on by a thread. “We’ll be making love for the first time. Aren’t you excited?” 

You nod. Excited and nervous. His cock much larger than his fingers, and maybe he should have prepped you more, but you came so easily. He always knew you were perfect for him. Pleasure is so unknown to you, the tiniest taste of it is enough to take you out. Perfect, perfect, perfect.

He holds your hand and kisses you to distract you from the sting of his cock breaching your virgin cunt. You gasp into the kiss, pain registering in your mind first, but Yukimiya is quick to take your breath away, to swallow up any potential protests that might have come. He keeps on kissing you, his fingers intertwined with your own, and he’s pushing himself as deep as he can go. He only lets up from the kiss the second he’s buried to the hilt, and you greedily swallow up the oxygen you’ve been deprived of. 

The feeling of a hard cock inside of you is foreign, but your body clings to his length. Unlike his fingers, with its dexterous ministrations that had you keening and squirting when he brushed them against a special spot, his cock fills you up, stuffs you full. Your cunt is greedily sucking him in, and when he whispers that he’s going to really start moving now, it’s not just one spot that he’s hitting.

You’re not sure what’s happening to your body, but it feels like Yukimiya is wringing out pleasure from you from every angle inside of you. 

“Ah, fuck, you feel so good for me, sweetheart. Such a tight pussy, so wet, so warm.” The heat encasing his cock is nothing like he’s ever experienced before. The wet warmth of your pussy is so inviting, so intensely pleasurable, that Kenyu doesn’t think he’ll be able to last. Cumming so soon might be embarrassing, but it’s not. Not when it’s his sweet girl’s pussy that’s begging for his cum. 

You wail out his name, your legs reflexively encircling around his waist, locking him in, keeping him close to you as you cum again. This orgasm is practically ripped out from you, your cunt way too sensitive, the repeated battering of his cock drilling into your hole too much for your inexperienced mind and body to handle. 

“Kenyu, Kenyu, Kenyu!” When you say his name like that, it makes it hard for him to not immediately bust a load inside of you. Gone is the gentle expression from your boyfriend’s face; in its place is something feral, dark. 

When he pulls out, he sees your white cream coating his cock. When he thrusts back in, he hears the lewd squelch of your wet, overstuffed pussy. It’s enough to drive a man insane with lust.

“Hey, sweetheart.” He grunts out, and your head struggles to remain straight, to not loll to the side and let yourself be used. You look up at him, but your eyes are glassy and your mind seems to be in a far away place, so far gone, so fucked out. “We’re going to get married soon. So it’s okay if I get you pregnant right now, right?” His bare cock fucking your virgin pussy raw. He’s going crazy. “I’m gonna fill you up, get you all nice and bred for me. Make you my wife, make you a mommy.” 

The domestic daydream makes you tighten up around him, even though your body is too weak to cum again. That’s alright. He’ll just have to cum enough for the both of you. 

“Hang onto me, sweetheart.” And you do. Your legs are still wrapped around him, but you weakly raise your arms, holding him close to you. He starts pounding at your pussy, his unrivaled speed and strength turning you into mush. You have to dig your nails into the muscled skin of his back, feeling like you’re on the edge of a cliff, about to crash. 

“Fuck, I’m about to put a baby in you, love. My sweet girl, my sweet wife.” He kisses you, messy and sloppy, and he stills. The aggressive thrusts stop, and you realize why. 

There’s a new heat entering inside of you; hot spurts of his cum are pouring into you, and he only moves his hips a bit to plug you up further, to make sure none of his seed can trickle out of you. 

You’re about to lose consciousness, your brain fried from pleasure and exhaustion. All you do is weakly mumble out his name before the world goes black.

You think if this is what making love is, you love love.

“Holy shit, Yukki.” Isagi gapes at his shirtless teammate. 

Yukimiya glances up, about to pull his jersey over his head. “What?” 

“What the hell happened to you?” 

“Hm?” He asks, before turning to try to examine his back. Across the pale muscles are thin, red scratches, fading slightly from the time it’s been etched onto his skin by your nails. He smiles serenely, his mild-mannered attitude ever present. “Oh, this? My fiancee likes me close to her at all times.” 

[trashytracktales]

Love the Lando fic. I am soooo desperate for a really smutty Max fic. He’s been feeling down that he hasn’t been winning and his best friend jokes she’ll give him head if he wins the sprint in Austin. You can guess the rest. I really in some need for friends to lovers smut

So we ride | MV¹

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none of my works are available for reposting on other platforms.

© trashy track tales, 2024

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💌 REQUESTED by anon ──── Thank you so much for loving my previous work!! I hope you like this one as much 🤍🎀

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𐙚 summary ──── She’s been there for him even before his career in F1 took off. And now that Max is struggling, there’s no other place she’d rather be than beside him.

𐙚 pairing ──── Max Verstappen x she/her reader

𐙚 rating ──── explicit

𐙚 category ──── F/M

𐙚 warnings ──── +18, smut, descriptive language & descriptive paragraphs (because I can't stop yapping), mature/sexual content, fingering, unprotected sex, friends to lovers, Filthy Mouth Max, swearing.

𐙚 word count ──── 4.4k

𐙚 date ──── Nov. 4, 2024

𐙚 a/n ──── I swear I planned to make an absolute filth out of this one, but somehow, I low-key ended up giggling and kicking my feet by the end. Nice 👌🏻

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THE DISTANT CHEERS still reverberate faintly from the paddock as she waits by herself in Max's room.

She has no idea why she's suddenly nervous. It's just Max. Her Max. Her best friend.

She's been in his driver's room countless of times before, but something has shifted. The energy is charged, somehow, with the weight of everything that’s changed between them over the past month. He’s been making more effort to be in her life, but even though she thinks he does it only because he needs a break from his hectic life, she's not complaining. Quite the opposite.

They’ve been talking day and night, sharing calls and endless text conversations. Every message, every call, and every laugh they’ve shared has pulled them closer, blurring the lines that they’d always kept so carefully intact.

Memories creep in like old songs she can't stop replaying in her head while she rests in the small space that smells like him — a delicious, subtle scent that lingers wherever he goes, a clean mix of sandalwood and a hint of leather from his racing gear, with just a trace of something so uniquely Max.

Without having the privilege to stop her mind, she lets it wander to the first time they met, long before Max secured his seat in Formula 1. Even though he was only a teenager at that time, he was ferocious and resilient, and anybody could see the determination behind his eyes, to the point it was almost impossible to turn and look away.

At least that's how she remembers him.

From that day on, she’d been there for every milestone. Every point earned, every setback, every win, every lose, every title, every new girlfriend, and every break-up. She never questioned him, even when others criticized his aggression on track and his obsessive desire to win. She was aware that he had a cause to fight for and a lot to prove. And she understood that in a way that Max had told her no one else did.

She knows him better than anyone. Maybe because they go so far back. Or because he trusted her enough be unapologetically himself around her. They had always had a tight bond and, at some point, they ended up giving in to temptation. They were each other’s first, and even though both of them were so bad at it, that moment still remains until this day a mix of curiosity and comfort that neither of them had found elsewhere.

But they were young and very much not in love, and they didn’t want to lose themselves in the process. It made more sense to stay friends, because when it comes to relationships, timing is everything. He was going to be away all the time, and she couldn't wait for him — not that he would have ever let her do that. Max Verstappen is selfish in every aspect of the word, especially when it comes to the people he cares about, and she has always been his soft spot.

Being far too deep in thought, she barely hears the door open, flinching slightly as Max storms in, a tight smile plastered on his face.

“You’re here?” he asks in surprise, the second he sees her laying on the two-seater couch.

The first thing he notices is a papaya orange cap, and a Red Bull jersey that she stole from him two seasons ago, neatly tucked into her black skirt.

“Well, you won,” she shrugs, articulating her words, thoughtfully. “That was a cute drive.”

Max laughs, tracing a hand through his messy hair, “Cute?” he asks, raising an eyebrow in her direction.

“And simply lovely, congrats!” she giggles at the use of his catchphrase.

His skin is glistening with a mix of sweat and that post-win adrenaline that's still in his system. Even though it was just a sprint race, a win is a win. She can tell he’s tired, but he’s more alive now than she’s seen him in weeks. The second half of the season is not treating him well, and it has been hard for Max — though not impossible — to keep the cofidence up, given that the top step of the podium seems to get further and further away with each race week.

He even told her that he misses hearing the Dutch national anthem. Coming from Max, that means something.

It's frustrating, but he manages.

“Thanks,” says Max, leaning against the door as he unzips his suit, tying a knot with the sleeves around his waist.

She can’t help but take him in — his messy helmet hair that she always makes fun of, but secretly finds very, very attractive, the damp collar of his racing suit, the helmet marks imprinted on his rosy cheeks, and the muscles in his forearms flexing as he crosses his arms, still buzzing with energy.

“How’s Martin?” Max continues, the corner of his mouth lifting in a teasing smirk while he crosses the room to sit next to her.

The room itself it's pretty small — just the couch, a table with his water bottle and energy drink scattered on top, and a change of clothes resting on a shelf nearby. But despite its plainness, Max’s presence fills every inch of it.

“He had the nerve to shush me when I started singing your song after you crossed the finish line,” she admits.

Max laughs again, a deep, rich sound, making the walls seem to hum with it. He leans back, his arm draping over the back of the couch, close enough that she can feel the heat radiating from him. His scent is still there, more pronounced now that he's actually in the room and so close to her.

“You looked amazing out there,” the girl continues, turning to glare at Max, “Like you were fighting for more than just a win.”

“And you were in the wrong garage to see it. Isn’t that so sad?” he asks, his gaze softening as he studies her.

With a gentle touch, he takes her cap off and throws it across the room.

She gasps dramatically, pretending to be affected by his gesture, “That's bully behavior.”

“No, that's hideous and it ruins your pretty outfit.”

“Just say you're jealous, and I won't wear it again.”

“I'm jealous,” Max admits it in a heartbeat, making her breath catch.

There’s something raw in his expression, something he’s kept for himself for a long time. He reaches out, his hand brushing a stray strand of hair from her face, the back of his fingers lingering against her cheek.

She bites her lower lip as she looks down at the tiny gap between them, trying to act like none of this is making her head spin, “Good to know. I'll come in full papaya gear at the next race.”

Max gives her a ‘don't push it’ glare, his hand sliding from her cheek to rest just a fraction of an inch away from hers. “I didn’t expect you to be here,” he murmurs, his voice rough with somethings she can’t quite decipher.

“I told you I'll come if you win.”

They both pretend to believe her insinuation, even though they know she always cares about Max, not just when he wins races. Which circles back to the conversation they've had last night, and the way she tried to motivate him; it's been on their minds constantly throughout the day. It was just a joke, sure. But still, Max took the podium, and unconsciously credits her with a small percentage of his performance today.

When their eyes meet again, the air is suddenly suffocating, as if the past is racing back between them. She has no idea who moves first and, somehow, Max's hand finds hers, warm and steady. It’s just a simple gesture — delicate, innocent, but somehow it feels like so much more. It anchores them in the present. It keeps them aware of each other.

“That's the thing, no? You’ve always been there for me,” he says, his voice barely above a whisper. “Even when I didn’t deserve it. And I want you to know that I never took you for granted. Not once.”

“Max…” she's not often at a loss for words, but when she hears his, it's hard for her to say anything else.

Every barrier they had both put up and every wall she had ever created around their friendship seems to be collapsing the moment Max starts caressing the soft skin of her hand with his thumb. There is an undeniable desire between them, and they are both aware of it. However, their bond is much more important than a passing feeling. Right? A feeling that forms like a warm ball in her stomach, and makes his heart pound even faster when he notices her breath intensifying.

“In my eyes, you always deserve it,” she assures him, deciding to intertwine her fingers with his.

“Is that so?” he challenges her.

She nods, “You deserve to have everything you want because I know how hard you work to—”

Max leans in, just slightly, his voice dropping to a murmur, “I wants us.”

Her heart races as she meets his eyes — a flawless ocean blue, in which she would gladly bathe. Or drown, even.

“I want you,” he continues, his free hand traveling to her bare thigh, squeezing it slightly, “I want to stop pretending like you’re not driving me fucking mad, and that I don’t care who you’re giving your attention to.”

For a moment, they both hold their breath, his forehead dropping against hers.

“Is it clear enough what I want?” asks Max, and she nods again. “No, baby. I need words,” he frowns against her skin, as if it pains him not to get her confirmation. The confirmation that he waited so long for, but didn't feel he had the right to ask for.

Until it was too much.

Until now.

“I hear you,” she finally replies. “But what if—”

“If, if, if,” he cutts her off. “I don’t give a fuck about imaginary scenarios anymore. If it's not what you want, tell me to stop, and I will.”

But she doesnt.

Instead, she spreads her thighs wider to make room for his hand to move forward — all the confirmation he needs. He grins instantly, closing his eyes for a split second, living the same feeling he gets when he's on the podium after a hard-won race, letting it all soak in.

Max’s hand is trailing further up her thigh, unable to help but keep the smirk on when he realizes that whatever they feel for each other, is mutual. He runs his finger lightly over the top of her lace panties, letting out a low sigh at the way her body responds to the slighlest touch. In return, she wraps her arms around Max's neck, looking at each other in anticipation. They know it right away — it’s like the fall of the Bastille, the moment before a revolution, when restraint gives way to a desire too powerful to ignore. They both know that after this, there’s no going back, no way to rebuild what’s been broken or control the outcome.

They know it’s not a calculated risk, and it can end so badly, but when Max leans in to kiss her — a kiss meant to suck every ounce of doubt out of her — the walls come crashing down. They melt into it, all the tension fading away. The hand between her thighs is now working her at the same pace as the kiss, soft whimpers cascading from her into Max’s mouth, making him lose it.

He almost can't believe this is really happening. But it’s as real as his win, and all he needs for tonight to get better is to bury his fingers in her cunt, preparing her for his cock, and pump her full of cum until none of them can take it anymore, just to make up for all the time they've lost while they were dancing around their insecurities.

Without any warnings, he drops to his knees between her legs as she lets her head rest on the back of the couch, her chest rising and falling with deep breaths.

Max decides to take it slow.

Even if he doesn't want to admit it, he is afraid that maybe this is just a momentary lapse, and he won't get to have her like this for who knows how long. Therefore, he needs to take his time, savoring everything she's willing to give him. Now.

He gently pushes the thin fabric of her panties to the side, running his index finger over her slik, getting coated in her wetness even before he's halfway up to her clit. His thumb starts to gently rub against her warmth in circular motions over her soft skin of her moud, automatically feeling the urge to look up at her as she clasps her hands against the edge of the couch, her knuckles turning white.

His mouth goes dry.

“God, do you always get this worked up?” asks Max with a husky voice, trying to ignore how annoyed he gets at the thought of her pussy dripping as a result of someone else's touch. “Has anyone ever made you this wet?”

She shakes her head, covering her mouth with her hand, but Max is way too focused on parting her folds with his fingers to register her whimpers and the way she's fighting to keep quiet — these rooms are not only narrow and practical, they also have extremely thin walls. Plus, her glossy, red clit is more captivating than any answer she'd give him.

The truth is, he doesn't even care, because his only goal now is to ruin her for whoever comes after him.

“So pretty,” he muses, pressing one digit inside, her pussy growing wetter as it tightens around his finger. Which encourages Max to add one more right away, gently scissoring them to stretch her out. “Fuck,” he exhales, as she pushes her hips into his hand.

“Max…” she drops her hand just as he's curling his fingers inside, touching her sweet spot repeatedly, pumping in and out with precision.

“Does that feel good, schatje?

“So. Good,” she whimpers, closing her eyes at the feeling.

Max’s fingers start moving faster, establishing an agonizing pace, his eyes watching her reactions intently, seeing her back arching.

“Look at you, fuck,” he swears, leaning in to graze his lips against her thigh, leaving tiny kisses in their wake while he keeps his eyes on her.

A few more pumps of his fingers are enough to feel her clench hard around him, and finally letting go. Her moans are echoing in Max's ears like a siren call, tempting, potentially dangerous, while his fingers help her riding out her orgasm. His free hand is gently caressing her side the entire time, his lips pressing harder into her thigh, which makes her moan again.

“Gotta be quiet, baby. I can’t fuck you in here if you can’t keep quiet. And you want me to, yes? You want your sweet cunt fucked until you cum around my cock?”

“Mhm... The mouth on you, Verstappen,” she pants as quietly as possible, while grabbing his shoulders to pull him on top of her.

He helps her getting rid of her panties altogether, while their lips meet again in an explosion of new emotions, each more and more intense. Max knows their options are limited since it's such a small space, and doesn't hesitate to pull her into his arms, flipping them around so now he's laying on the couch, while she straddles him. His hands are instantly landing on her waist, listening to her giggle at the sudden change of positions.

“Hi,” Max smiles at her, his face radiating with pure excitement.

“Hi,” the girl parrots, wrapping her arms around his neck, tenderly playing with her fingers in the hair at the back of his head.

“You good?”

“I’m great,” she says, returning the smile.

“I fucking want to, but we don't have to if you have the slighlest doubt,” Max reminds her. “I'll jerk off in the shower later.”

She presses the pads of her fingers on his swollen lips to shut him up. “I want to,” she assures him, “I'm just scared it'll ruin us.”

Max cups her chin in his hand, his eyes heavy with understanding and the desire to prove her wrong, “Not gonna happen.”

“How are you so sure?” she asks, swallowing hard.

“I'm not, but I'll give you head if—”

She bursts out laughing as soon as she realizes Max is quoting her, “You are absolutely outrageous.”

Max keeps his hold on her waist as she shifts around, a slightly nervous but excited breath leaving his chest while she gets comfortable on top of him. “Tell me what you want, schat.”

In response, her fingers start fumbling with the knot he tied around his waist earlier, tugging at his fireproof with an urgency she can barely contain. Once her hands are making contact with his bare chest, warm and firm, she's sliding the rest of his racing suit past his waist, until it pools around Max's hips. She feels the rush as he pushes the rest of it down his legs, sucking in a breath of air at the sight of him.

“Max, you…,” she swallows the lump that got stuck in her throat, raising her eyes to look at him, slightly worried; nothing could've prepared her for how big Max is. “I've never heard you bragging about your dick.”

He chuckles at her words, his eyes turning into two adorable crescents moons on his face.

He's changed a lot over the years, of course. Max was only 16 when they had sex for the first time. But seeing him under her like that it's just a reminder of how small she feels against him now. His big hands can encircle her waist if he wanted to, and his arms could easily break her if he held her too tightly.

She looks down and notices the stark contrast between them: his broad shoulders, his strength, and their heights.

With her body nearly dwarfed by his, she is overcome with trepidation as she questions whether they will even fit together. However, she notices that Max is already trying to ease her concerns without saying a word, as he lifts her chin and meets her eyes with a tenderness that releases all the tension.

“You can take it, baby,” he assures her, guiding himself towards her entrance.

She lowers herself on him, slowly, intently, so easily that her hot cunt is practically sliding along his length, forcing Max to swallow a moan at how her wetness spreads over him. He pushes his hips forward, impatient, watching his cock disappear between her thighs. It drives them both absolutely crazy.

The intensity, the intimacy and all the places they make contact would normally be way too much. But then, Max pulls his hips down, only to fuck back in, feeling her relaxing on top of him.

The fit is perfect.

Her body is finally full. Complete.

“God, look at you,” he almost chokes, palming her ass under the skirt to help her spread more around him. “You're so beautiful.”

She cries out a moan, feeling as if her body gets split in two in real time, in the best way possible. His cock is so big that she's pretty sure she can feel him between her lungs.

Max means to say something else, but his words get stuck in his throat as the air gets knocked out of his lungs. A gasp leaves his parted lips as she sinks down on him completely — finally — his arms immediately wrapping around her waist, holding onto his girl like she's his lifeline. His chest sparks with a goran as he looks at her, the blue in his eyes darkening at the feeling.

“So tight, baby, I can’t wait to fuck you,” says Max, his hands getting lost under her shirt, palming her breasts. “You feel so good already. Gonna make me cum so fast,” he adds in a breathless mess, his heart pounding in his chest at the feeling of her body against his.

It’s a consuming feeling, that leaves them both senseless.

Max starts to move slowly, guiding her up and down his cock, until they set a steady rhythm. They're an amalgam of moans and gasps, as his hands rest on her waist tighter than before, fucking in deeper with each thrust. The sounds they make and the way they hold each other brings them together in a new way. It's scary and exciting and far too risky, but none of that matters now.

All that matters is the way she holds onto him, mouth ajar as they look at each other. She uses him to anchor herself while she sinks deeper, again and again, until pleasure is all she knows.

“Oh… Max. Max, please,” she beggs, the sound of them connecting reverberating throughout the entire room.

At the sight of her flushed face and parted lips, Max’s jaw clenches, his eyes trailing down her body to where they’re joined, just to see how she takes him in with such ease. The image causes a low groan to leave his mouth, his fingers digging into the skin of her thighs. She takes him so well, to the point of getting his own thighs wet as her pussy drips with their combined pleasure.

“You feel so fucking good on me, love. So good for me, that’s it,” he moans softly, his eyes falling shut to allow him to feel her everywhere in his body.

“Max… I can’t… Please, it’s too much.”

His eyes snap open to look at her again. Hearing her on the edge of desperation and feeling her body starting to shake with pleasure on top of him, it’s enough for Max to take charge, even though he’s not the one on top. Without a thought, he moves his hands back on her waist, holding her still as he lifts up his hips to start moving from underneath.

“Hold on to me, baby. I got you.”

He manages to send her to a whole another realm as he intensifies the pace, while the sounds of their bodies slapping together animates the room.

“That’s it, fuuuck. Let me take care of you,” he's breathing hard between thrusts, feeling dizzy as his climax builds, the heat in his stomach burning hotter.

He’s consumed by her in the most satisfying way — she is all that he feels and sees, her body pliant over his, her sweet noises in his ear being the only thing he can focus on as he looks at her through his lashes.

Max’s name cascades from her mouth, over and over again, until she starts clenching around his length — he knows that she’s close, and he’s right there with her.

His breath sounds shaky when he speaks again, “Where do you want me, baby?”

She knows that it's not a good idea for him finish inside her, but the thought of Max owning her like that gives her goosebumbs all over her body.

“Inside,” she gasps, burying her fingers in his hair and leaning over for a messy kiss. “Want to feel you...”

“Yeah, you want me to fill your pretty pussy? That you kept from me for so long?” asks Max against her jaw, his voice coming out in a low, sultry moan, just as a few drops of sweat gather along his hairline.

He lets his head fall back with a low groan, fucking his cock deeper and making her see stars in the process.

“Oh, god! Max,” she gasps, her voice coming out almost like a warning.

He takes it as an invitation to fuck her harder, feeling her tensing, then becoming boneless on top of him as he rides her orgasm. Max follows closely, moaning loudly as his hips move slopply, spilling inside of her, rolling his eyes at the feeling of her body milking his release.

“So fucking good, schatje.”

She wants to agree with him, but her mind is far too foggy and all she can do is run her hand over his skin, which is slick with a thin layer of sweat. She cups his face in her small palm while her other hand rests on his neck, sealing their lips together in a much slower, tender kiss.

Their tongues meet in a slow dance, tasting each other, making Max smile under it. She presses her forehead on his, a content smile appearing on her face this time, both of them completely blissed out.

Max’s hands runs along her thighs, admiring the feel of her soft skin under his touch as he speaks in a low, husky voice that still sounds breathless, “How the hell are you real?”

“Don’t ask me anything for the next five business days.”

He chuckles softly, giving her one more kiss before helping her up so he can gently pull out of her. She gasps again at the emptiness he leaves behind, feeling Max’s cum mixed with her own release oozing out of her. He swallows dryly, forcing his hand to gather up the result of their pleasure and fuck his fingers back in her cunt a few times before she collapses on top of him.

Max softens under her, tracing his hand through the waves of her hair, and for a moment, he looks as though he might say something. Something that could change the entire trajectory of their friendship.

Friendship.

He puffs out a laugh at the word.

“What?” she asks, curiously raising her eyes to look at him.

He looks so incredibly beautiful as he breathes slowly, his chest rising and falling in a steady rhythm. When it comes to Max, his beauty goes beyond his appearance; beneath the fierce, self-assured driver the outside world perceives, he displays now a softness and sensibility that only she has access to.

“You still owe me a blow job,” he murmurs, his breath warm against her skin.

A laugh escapes her, soft and giddy, but as she pulls back, the intensity in his gaze remains.

Oh, he’s serious.

“I’ll find you tomorrow, after the race,” she says, her voice soft, almost as if she’s making a promise.

“What if I don’t win?”

She laughs, “A podium also counts.”

For now, that’s enough for him.

thank you for reading!

reblogs, likes, and comments are deeply appreciated ♥︎

[paxtito]

grey sweatpants

parings: tara x reader (g!p)

word count: 4048

warnings: smut 18+, swearing, reader has a dick, oral sex, fingering and p in v

summary: tara’s tiktok feed has been filled with people buying their partners grey sweatpants, it’s supposed to exaggerate certain… features. she drags you along to the shop to buy a pair and let’s just say, she definitely likes it

a/n: wrote this while listening to the car by arctic monkeys, i will not tolerate hate towards their newer stuff- apologies in advance for any mistakes

MASTERLIST

You’re barely two steps inside the store when Tara’s hand closes around your wrist, dragging you through the aisles with a surprising amount of strength for someone so small. Her eyes are lit up with that determined gleam that usually spells trouble—or something about to become very memorable. You’re not sure which it’ll be, but you follow, grinning.

“We’re not leaving until you’ve tried on at least five pairs,” she declares, her voice laced with mischievous excitement.

“Five?” you laugh, letting her pull you deeper into the clothing section. “Don’t you think that’s a little…excessive?”

“Nope,” she says, without even a second of hesitation. She looks back at you with a smirk. “You need options. And I need the perfect pair.”

You raise an eyebrow. “Perfect pair for what?”

She stops in front of a display of grey sweatpants, eyeing them like they’re some sort of rare, mythical artifact. Tara’s fingers brush over a pair of heather grey joggers, and she glances up at you with that mischievous glint you’ve come to know all too well.

“For…reasons,” she says cryptically, shooting you a playful wink that makes your cheeks warm.

“Oh, I see,” you tease, crossing your arms. “This has nothing to do with all those TikToks about guys in grey sweatpants?”

She shrugs, pretending to look innocent, but there’s no hiding the tiny grin tugging at the corner of her lips. “Well, maybe I’ve been…inspired.”

“Maybe?” you echo, raising an eyebrow. “Tara, you’ve been obsessed with those videos ever since we started dating.”

She huffs, rolling her eyes. “Okay, fine, I have! But can you blame me? I mean, just imagine…” Her voice drops to a whisper, her gaze drifting downward suggestively.

You follow her line of sight, realizing with a jolt of heat under your skin exactly what she’s talking about. You can’t help but chuckle, shaking your head at her antics.

“I don’t think I’ve ever seen someone so excited about sweatpants before,” you say, reaching out to tuck a strand of hair behind her ear.

“That’s because these aren’t just any sweatpants,” she insists, her tone serious despite the blush creeping up her cheeks. “These are…strategic sweatpants.”

You blink, trying to hide your amusement. “Strategic?”

She nods vigorously. “Yeah! They’re supposed to be like…the perfect fit. Not too tight, not too loose. Just enough to, you know…highlight the goods.”

You can’t help but laugh at her bluntness, even as your heart flutters at the thought of her wanting to showcase your assets like that.

“And you think these ones will do the trick?” you ask, motioning towards the display.

Tara grins, already reaching for a pair in your size. “Oh, definitely. Trust me, Y/N, once you put these on…you’ll understand why I’m so excited.”

You watch as she practically skips towards the changing rooms, holding out the sweatpants for you to take. There’s a glint in her eyes that promises mischief and fun, and you can’t help but smile, following her lead.

Tara practically bounces on her toes as she waits for you outside the changing room, clutching the sweatpants to her chest like they’re a precious treasure. You can hear her humming to herself, a tune that sounds suspiciously like the jingle from one of those infamous TikTok videos.

Finally, you emerge from the changing room, feeling a bit self-conscious as you model the grey joggers for her. They fit snugly around your waist, tapering down to a comfortable width at the ankle. The material is soft against your skin, and you have to admit, they feel pretty good.

But it’s the reaction on Tara’s face that really catches your attention. Her eyes widen, her mouth falling open in a perfect ‘O’ of surprise. For a moment, she seems at a loss for words, which is a rarity for her.

Then, slowly, a grin spreads across her face, growing wider and wider until she’s practically beaming at you.

“Oh my god,” she breathes, stepping closer to get a better look. “Y/N, you look…wow.”

You can feel the heat rising in your cheeks at her obvious approval. It’s not often that you’re the center of attention like this, and Tara’s undivided focus is both thrilling and a little intimidating.

“What’s so ‘wow’ about them? I’m starting to think you’re going mad.”

Tara giggles, shaking her head. "Trust me, you look amazing. I mean, seriously, how did I get so lucky?"

She reaches out, running her fingers along the waistband of the sweatpants. Her touch sends a shiver down your spine, and you suddenly find yourself acutely aware of just how close she is standing.

"It's like... they were made for you," she murmurs, her voice low and appreciative. "They just...highlight everything so perfectly.”

You feel your face flush even hotter at her words, a mix of embarrassment and pleasure coursing through you. Tara's gaze is fixed on you, her eyes dark with a hunger that makes your breath catch.

"I'm serious, Y/N," she says, her tone turning playful. "You could give those TikTok guys a run for their money. I might just have to keep you in these pants all the time."

She winks at you, a mischievous grin tugging at her lips. You laugh, shaking your head at her antics, but there's no denying the way your heart races at the thought of her wanting to keep you close.

"Alright, alright," you say, holding up your hands in mock surrender.

"Alright, alright, I guess these sweatpants are a keeper then," you chuckle, giving in to Tara's persuasive charms. "Let's go pay for them so we can get out of here." You say, disappearing back into the changing rooms.

Once you return, Tara's face lights up with pure delight, and she practically skips towards the checkout counter, clutching the sweatpants to her chest like a prized possession. You follow behind her, amused by her enthusiasm and finding yourself caught up in her excitement.

As you wait in line, Tara can't seem to stop touching the fabric of the sweatpants, running her fingers along the waistband and smoothing out the legs. It's almost like she's memorizing every detail, committing it to memory for later.

"I can't believe we found them," she says, glancing up at you with a grin. "I mean, it's like fate or something, right? Like the universe knew exactly what I needed and put them right in our path."

You roll your eyes, but you can't help the smile tugging at your lips. "Sure, Tara. The universe is totally conspiring to make you happy."

"Hey, don't knock it," she says, nudging you playfully with her elbow. "Sometimes the universe just knows what's up."

As you finally reach the front of the line, Tara practically vibrates with anticipation, her eyes darting between you and the sweatpants like she's afraid they might disappear at any moment. When the cashier rings them up, Tara practically lunges for her wallet, eager to make the purchase official.

"There," she says triumphantly, clutching the bag with the sweatpants inside like a lifeline. "Now they're mine. All mine."

You can't help but laugh at her dramatic flair, but there's a part of you that's touched by her enthusiasm. It's not often that someone gets so excited about something so simple, but with Tara, everything feels special.

"Alright, let's get out of here," you say, looping your arm through hers. "I think you've had enough excitement for one day. Crazy girl.”

As you leave the store, Tara clutches the bag containing the sweatpants like a precious treasure. She can't stop grinning, her eyes sparkling with a mischievous light that makes your heart skip a beat.

"I can't wait to see you in these," she says, her voice low and sultry as you walk side by side. "I mean, seriously, Y/N, you're going to look so hot. I might not be able to control myself.”

You feel a blush creeping up your neck at her words, a mix of embarrassment and excitement coursing through you. “You just saw them on me, dumbass.”

Tara can't help but laugh at your comment, her eyes crinkling with amusement. "Yeah, but that was in the store. I want to see you in them in...private."

Her voice drops to a whisper on the last word, and you feel a shiver run down your spine at the implication. Tara's hand finds yours, her fingers intertwining with yours as you walk.

"Come on," she says, tugging you gently towards the car. "Let's go back to my place so you can model them for me properly."

You let her lead you, your heart racing with anticipation. The drive back to Tara's apartment is filled with playful banter and stolen glances, the tension between you growing with each passing minute.

When you finally arrive, Tara practically drags you inside, her eagerness palpable. She kicks off her shoes and tosses her keys on the table by the door, then turns to you with a grin.

"Alright, Y/N," she says, her voice teasing. "Show me what you've got."

You feel a surge of confidence wash over you as you slip into the bedroom, the sweatpants hugging your curves in all the right places. When you turn to face Tara, her eyes widen, and she lets out a low whistle of appreciation.

"Damn," she breathes, taking a step closer. "I was right. You look absolutely incredible in those."

Her hands come to rest on your hips, her thumbs rubbing small circles against the fabric. You can feel the heat of her body seeping through the thin material, and it takes everything in you not to shiver.

"I think I might have to keep you in these forever," Tara murmurs, leaning in close. "Just so I can look at you like this all the time."

You can feel Tara's eyes roaming over your body, taking in every curve and every contour. There's a hunger in her gaze that sends a thrill straight to your core, and you can't help but squirm a little under her scrutiny.

"You know," she says, her voice low and husky, "I think these sweats were made for you. Like, specifically designed to show off every inch of your body."

You feel your face flush at her words, a mix of embarrassment and excitement coursing through you. It's not often that someone looks at you like this, like they want to devour you whole.

Tara's hands slide up your sides, her fingers tracing the lines of your body through the fabric of the sweatpants. You can feel the heat of her touch even through the thin material, and it makes your breath catch in your throat.

"I mean, look at you," she continues, her voice dropping to a whisper. "You're fucking perfect, Y/N. Every single inch of you."

Her hands come to rest on your hips, her thumbs rubbing small circles against your skin. You can feel the pressure building inside you, a need that's growing stronger with each passing second.

"Tara," you breathe, your voice trembling slightly. "Please..."

She doesn't need any more encouragement. In one swift motion, she's pushing you back onto the bed, her body covering yours. Her lips find yours in a searing kiss, and you moan into her mouth, your hands fisting in her shirt.

Tara breaks the kiss, trailing her lips down your neck, her teeth grazing your skin. You arch into her touch, desperate for more.

"Fuck, Y/N," she groans, her hand sliding down your body, cupping you through the sweatpants. "You're so hard already. I love how much you want me."

You gasp as she strokes you through the fabric, the friction sending sparks of pleasure through your body. Your hips buck up into her hand, seeking more of that delicious contact.

Tara's hand slips under the waistband of your sweatpants, her fingers brushing against the hot, hard length of your cock. She groans at the feel of it, her hand wrapping around you and stroking slowly from base to tip.

"God, Y/N," she murmurs, her breath hot against your neck. "You're so fucking perfect. I can't get enough of you."

Her other hand works at the button of your sweatpants, tugging them down over your hips. You lift up to help her, eager to feel her skin against yours.

Once your pants are off, Tara takes a moment to drink in the sight of you, her eyes dark with desire. "You're so beautiful," she whispers, her hand stroking you again, slower this time. "I can't believe you're all mine."

She leans down, her tongue flicking out to taste the tip of your cock. You gasp at the sensation, your hips bucking up into her touch. Tara smiles against your skin, her lips wrapping around you and taking you deep into her mouth.

You moan, your hands fisting in the sheets beneath you. Tara's mouth is hot and wet, her tongue swirling around you in a way that makes your toes curl. She bobs her head, taking you deeper with each pass, her hand stroking what she can't fit in her mouth.

Tara looks up at you with a question in her eyes as you gently push her away. She releases your throbbing length with a soft pop, her lips glistening with your precum.

"Y/N?" she asks, her voice a mixture of confusion and concern. "Is everything okay?"

You swallow hard, trying to gather your thoughts. The sight of her kneeling between your legs, her hand still wrapped around your shaft, is almost too much to bear. But you force yourself to focus, determined to give her the pleasure she deserves.

"Everything's perfect," you murmur, reaching out to cup her cheek. "But I want to focus on you for a bit. I want to make you feel good."

Understanding dawns in Tara's eyes, and a slow, sultry smile spreads across her face. "Oh, is that so?" she purrs, leaning into your touch. "Well, far be it from me to deny you."

She shifts back on her knees, allowing you to sit up. Your cock twitches at the change in position, bobbing heavily between your legs. Tara's gaze is drawn to it, her tongue darting out to wet her lips.

"Fuck, you're so hot," she breathes, her hand reaching out to wrap around you once more. "I can't believe I get to have you like this."

You groan at her touch, your hips rocking forward into her grip. But you force yourself to pull back, needing to maintain control. You reach out, gently pushing Tara onto her back, your body hovering over hers.

"Shh, just relax," you murmur, your lips brushing against her ear. "Let me take care of you."

You start by kissing her deeply, your tongue delving into her mouth to taste her. Tara moans into the kiss, her hands coming up to tangle in your hair. You trail your lips down her neck, nipping and sucking at the sensitive skin.

Tara arches beneath you, her breasts pressing against your chest. You can feel her nipples hardening, even through the fabric of her shirt. Your hand slips beneath the hem, your fingers skimming over the soft skin of her stomach.

Tara gasps as your hand slides higher, your fingers brushing against the underside of her breasts. You can feel the heat of her skin even through the fabric of her bra, and it makes your mouth water with the desire to taste her.

"Y/N," she breathes, her voice thick with need. "Please, touch me."

You don't need any more encouragement. Your hand cups her breast, your thumb brushing over her nipple and making it harden even more. Tara arches into your touch, a soft moan escaping her lips.

"Fuck, that feels good," she gasps, her hips bucking up against you. "Don't stop."

You switch to her other breast, giving it the same treatment. Tara's hands fist in the sheets beneath her, her body trembling with pleasure. You can feel the heat building between your legs, your cock throbbing with the need to be inside her.

But you resist, determined to make this about her pleasure. Your hand slides down her body, over her stomach and down to the waistband of her sweats. You hook your fingers under the fabric, tugging it down slowly.

Tara lifts her hips to help you, and soon she's lying before you, completely bare. Your breath catches in your throat at the sight of her, her skin glowing in the soft light of the room.

"You're so beautiful," you murmur, your hand sliding back up her thigh. "I can't believe I get to touch you like this."

Tara's cheeks flush at your words, a shy smile spreading across her face. "I'm glad it's you," she whispers. "I trust you, Y/N. I know you'll make me feel good."

Your fingers brush against her core, and she gasps, her hips bucking up into your touch. You circle her clit with your finger, feeling it grow harder under your touch.

"Oh fuck," Tara moans, her head falling back against the pillow. "That feels amazing."

You continue to tease her, your fingers dipping lower to brush against her entrance. She's wet and ready for you, and the knowledge makes your cock throb with need.

Tara's hips buck up against your hand, her body begging for more. You can feel her wetness coating your fingers, and it takes every ounce of willpower you have not to plunge them inside her.

Instead, you focus on her clit, circling it with your thumb while your fingers tease her entrance. Tara's moans fill the room, her hands fisting in the sheets beneath her as she arches into your touch.

"Please, Y/N," she gasps, her voice strained with need. "I need more. I need you inside me."

You can't resist her pleas any longer. Sliding two fingers inside her, you groan at the feel of her tight heat surrounding you. Tara cries out, her walls clenching around your digits as you pump them in and out.

"Fuck, you're so tight," you murmur, your thumb continuing to work her clit. "I love how you feel around my fingers."

Tara's hips move in time with your thrusts, her body taking you deeper with each pass. You can feel her getting closer, her breathing growing more ragged with each passing second.

"Y/N," she moans, her head thrashing on the pillow. "I'm gonna... fuck, I'm gonna come."

You redouble your efforts, your fingers moving faster, harder. Tara's body tenses beneath you, her walls fluttering around your fingers as she teeters on the edge.

"Come for me, baby," you encourage her, your voice rough with need. "Let go. I've got you."

With a cry that's almost primal, Tara comes undone. Her body bows off the bed, her back arching as wave after wave of pleasure crashes over her. You continue to stroke her through it, prolonging her orgasm until she's a boneless heap beneath you.

As she comes down from her high, Tara looks up at you with hazy, satisfied eyes. "Holy shit," she breathes, a lazy smile spreading across her face. "That was incredible."

You grin down at her, feeling a sense of pride at having brought her such pleasure. But you’re still throbbing with need, and it won’t be go anywhere any time soon.

As the haze of post-orgasmic bliss starts to fade, Tara's gaze drifts down to your still-throbbing erection. Her eyes widen slightly, a mix of hunger and concern flickering across her face.

"Y/N," she murmurs, her hand reaching out to wrap around your shaft. "You're still so hard. Do you... do you want me to take care of that for you?"

You groan at her touch, your hips bucking up into her grip. The feel of her soft hand wrapped around your sensitive flesh is almost too much to bear. But you force yourself to take a deep breath, knowing that there's something important you need to address first.

"Wait," you say, gently removing her hand from your cock. "Before we go any further, we need to talk about protection."

Tara blinks up at you, a little confused. "Protection? What do you mean?"

You sigh, running a hand through your hair. This isn't exactly the sexiest topic, but it's a necessary one. "I mean condoms, Tara. We can't just jump into having sex without them. It's not safe."

A flicker of understanding crosses her face, followed by a sheepish grin. "Oh, right. Of course. I wasn't thinking straight."

You smile at her, relieved that she's on the same page. "It's okay. It's easy to get caught up in the moment. But we need to make sure we're being responsible.

Tara nods, her hand reaching for the nightstand drawer. She rummages around for a moment before pulling out a foil packet. "Looks like I'm prepared after all," she says with a wink.

You take the condom from her, tearing it open with your teeth. Tara watches as you roll it down over your shaft, her eyes darkening with desire at the sight.

"Fuck, that's hot," she murmurs, her hand wrapping around you once more. "Seeing you take charge like that."

You grin at her, giving her hand a squeeze. "I'm glad you approve. Now, where were we?"

Tara's eyes sparkle with mischief as she pulls you towards her, guiding you to lie on top of her once more. "I think we were right about here," she purrs, her legs parting invitingly.

The heat of her core radiates against your protected length, making you shiver with anticipation. You line yourself up with her entrance, teasing her with the tip of your cock.

"Are you ready for me?" you murmur, your breath hot against her neck.

Tara nods, her hips lifting in a silent plea. "I've never been more ready for anything in my life," she breathes, her nails digging into your shoulders.

With a slow, deliberate thrust, you push forward, feeling her tight heat envelop you. Tara gasps at the intrusion, her walls stretching to accommodate your size.

"Oh fuck," she moans, her head falling back against the pillow. "You're so big, Y/N. It feels amazing."

You groan at her words, the sensation of her tightness driving you wild. You start to move, pulling out slowly before thrusting back in, setting a steady rhythm.

Tara meets your movements, her hips rising to greet each thrust. The sound of skin against skin fills the room, punctuated by your shared moans of pleasure.

"Harder," Tara gasps, her nails raking down your back. "Fuck me harder, Y/N."

You oblige, increasing the speed and force of your thrusts. The bed creaks beneath you, the headboard slamming against the wall with each powerful drive of your hips.

Tara's legs wrap around your waist, her ankles locking at the small of your back. The new angle allows you to go even deeper, and you feel her tightening around you, signaling her impending release.

"Y/N," she cries out, her voice strained with pleasure. "I'm gonna come again. Don't stop, please don't stop."

You redouble your efforts, pounding into her with abandon. The feeling of her walls fluttering around you is almost too much to bear, and you can feel your own release building.

Tara cries out, her body arching off the bed as another orgasm rips through her. Her walls clamp down around you, milking your cock for all it's worth. The sensation is too much to bear, and with a final, guttural groan, you come undone.

Your hips stutter as you empty yourself inside the condom, your body shaking with the force of your release. Tara holds you close, her fingers threading through your hair as she whispers sweet nothings in your ear.

As you both come down from your highs, you collapse onto the bed, your bodies tangled together in a sweaty heap. Tara nuzzles into your neck, placing soft kisses along your jawline.

"That was incredible," she murmurs, her voice hoarse from screaming. "I've never felt anything like that before."

You grin at her, pulling her closer. "I'm glad you enjoyed it," you say, pressing a kiss to the top of her head. "Because we're definitely doing that again.

Tara laughs, the sound bright and carefree. "I wouldn't have it any other way," she says, her fingers tracing patterns on your chest.

[melanieph321]

Hello :) could you do an imagine/story where Ruben and reader have a boy and he is a big momma’s boy like he’s jealous when Ruben kiss reader please (sorry for my bad English btw) if you don’t feel comfortable writing it that’s okay

I LOVE THIS REQUEEEST! 🤭💓🤭💓

Please keep em coming!

10 DAYS OF REQUESTS

(DAY 1)

Ruben Dias - Mommy's Boy

This one is so funny 😭

Enjoy!

Having a six year old boy seemed more of a challenge than having a four - or three year old boy.

Six was the age of discovery. Discovery of how spicy a Portuguese pepper can be when devoured raw. Discovery of how fast a bicycle can travel downhill when you take off the training wheels. Or your son's most recent discovery — How high the swing in the backyard goes before its ropes snap and lunges him across mommy's neatly pruned rose bushes.

"My arm!" Your son cried out, as you and Ruben rushed down the steps to the backyard.

You had witnessed it all from the kitchen window. The last part at least, when the swings ropes snapped and your son's body was thrown across the yard. Before then, Ruben had your back pressed against the refrigerator, his lips tracing ever so gently down the slope of your neck while his rough hands crept up your thighs and under your dress. Nedless to say that your son's cries stopped it all, to your husband's annoyance, of course.

"Help, mommy. It hurts!" Your son cried, as you fought to get him out from the leaves and thornes. He was all bruised up once you did.

"I'll go get the band-aids." Ruben sighed. He returned to the house while you carried your son to the steps leading up to it. Your son cradled in your arms, his dark hair head nuzzling into the pit of your embrace as the two of you settled down.

"Oh, hubby." You cooed. "Why do you always have to get yourself into such trouble? Can't you see how you keep scaring mommy to death."

Your son sniffled in response. "I'm sorry mommy."

"Oh, no. There's nothing to be sorry about. It was all an accident."

"Yeah, right." A voice scolded behind you. Ruben, appearing in the backdoor with the band-aids in his hand. He dropped them in your lap and joined you and your son on the steps.

"Baby, what's gotten into you?" You said, noting the bitterness in Ruben's comment.

"Nothing, nothing." He muttered. "It's just funny that..." He paused to reconsider his words.

"Ruben?" Your narrowed gaze challenge for him to go on.

He shook his head with laughter and disbelief. "I dunno Y/N, but don't you think that it's very coincidental that every time the two of us....well...."

"Well?" You frowned, rocking the sniffling boy in your arms.

Ruben looked to your son, however, not with the same empathy as you. "If I put it this way. Last week, the two of us were in our room, in bed, doing what adults do during late hours, especially after a well played game like mine—."

"Ruben." Heat suddenly flushed to your cheeks. You knew exactly what events of last week that Ruben was referring to. However, it was highly inappropriate to bring up such subjects amongst children. "Your point is?" You emphasized.

"My point is..." Ruben declared. "I barely got to touching you that night before little Romeo here came running into our room with a burning tongue." Ruben's eyes darted at your son, who snickered at the phrase "Little Romeo."

"Honey." You felt obligated to defend your son. "He simply mistook your mom's peppers for a regular Bell one."

"Mistook my ass! What was he even doing roaming around in the kitchen that late at night? And do you remember that time we took the training wheels off his bicycle and he conveniently decided to send it down the hill. Do you remember that time?"

"Yes, Ruben. But what's that got to do with anything?"

Your husband ran a hand through his hair, looking to calm himself down. "All I'm saying is that you wouldn't leave his side after our son got his knees bruised up from his hell ride. Same thing as today. I mean, look at him."

You both tilted your heads to meet the bright beaming eyes of your son, who seemed delighted to be curled up in your arms despite becoming way too big to do so.

"Look, the thornes didn't even manage to cut him up that deep. I bet he just saw us kissing through the window while on the swing and decided to lunge himself off of it."

"Ruben?" You gasped. "Are you telling me that our son injures himself purposely just to get our attention?"

"Your attention." Ruben corrected.

You looked to your son and back to Ruben. "I can't believe you."

"Don't believe me? Fine, I'll prove it." Ruben's hand reached for the nape of your neck, tilting your head with the motion of drawing you towards him. Towards his lips, to be exact. But before his parted mouth could even brush pass your own, your son erupted in an ear shattering wail.

"Told you." Ruben grinned and let go of your neck.

You were perplexed, looking down at your son whose face had gone red from crying. He held up his finger, offering it to you. "It hurts, mommy. Kiss and make it better."

"I—"

Behind you, Ruben was trembling with laughter. "Huh, it seems like I'm competing with my son for my own wife's attention."

"But that...." You regarded them both in confusion. The whole thing utterly absurd.

"Don't worry." Ruben pressed a swift kiss to your cheek and rose from the steps, looking to return the band-aids. He paused in the door. "Our son will grow out of it. In the meantime, I guess he can have you....at least during the day."

The wink of Ruben's eye sent a tickling shiver down your spine. You quickly shook out of it to address your son. "You. Little. Gremlin." He giggled at your choice of words, and so you resorted to torturing him by tickling his belly. "You are such a mommy's boy, aren't you? A mommy's boy, that's what you are."

"Mommy, stop it. I can't breathe." He laughed.

"Oh, no. Not so fast." You continued poking his little belly. It was the least you could do for raising such a menace.

The tickling seized once the two of you were left breathless. By then, your torturing methods shifted to a serenation of kisses. Kisses you thought would annoy your son. Instead, he squirmed beaneth you, each peck of your lips making him errupt in joyous shouts. Perhaps Ruben was right that your sons admiration for you wouldn't last forever. Until then, you were going to enjoy having a little mommy's boy all to yourself.

[agalychnisspranneusroseus]

Just how much power did Marcy have over her friends pre-Amphibia? When they throw the kpop puppy party at school, the principal assumes "those two" pushed Anne into it, and Anne kind of admits it. When Anne is about to sacrifice herself, she says "all my life I've followed you two". During her one and only S1 appearance, she's seen maliciously nodding alongside Sasha when Anne steals the box, and with Marcy asking to meet up on Anne's birthday, while Sasha is the one to carry out the order, the implication is that they're almost like... working together. I know she was supposed to be "meaner" when they were working on S1, and I think they changed her personality because Haley Tju made her too adorable(? and maybe also because Matt thought the whole show would fall apart if people didn't like Marcy (considering what a huge impact she has on everything that happens, I'd say he was right). But Anne's line in THT and the flashback in All In implies she wasn't nearly as much as a doormat as it may seem sometimes, at least not as much as Anne.

Or maybe she was? Because you also see her in this place of submission when it comes to Sasha (and also Anne?), especially in BOTB, when she's happy to switch from Anne's song to Sasha's without even hearing the first, only stopping to consider Anne's approval. That scene struck me as her always happy to go along with her friends' wishes and never having much of an opinion of her own. That's why she was so desperate for them to get along during The Dinner, and why she never took a side when Anne told her she and Sasha had a fight. She closest thing to defying Sasha that we ever see her do is when she's working alongside like 10 other people to protect Newtopia from the Toad Army, and she says they had to "defeat Sasha and Grime" specifically, which I think makes sense considering they're attacking the city she's supposed to protect (she's IS a high-ranking member of its military forces AND a close advisor to its king), and not wanting to "defeat Sasha" would rock the boat with everyone else involved, Anne included. Yet we never really see her angry at Sasha for what she's doing, she just wants her and Anne to "work things out". I think it's clear that Marcy struggles with empathy, because if she put herself in Anne's shoes, she wouldn't expect her to "just work things out" with Sasha. In fact, she would have taken Anne's side agessssss ago, but she's way too focused on herself (her goal is for everyone to be happy forever and get along, while Anne and Sasha may want something else). Marcy being self-centered isn't a hot take, and I don't think she's any more self-centered than Anne was during most of S1. In fact, I'd argue Anne was even worse lol. The difference is that Anne made a million relatively small mistakes while Marcy made like two or three very big, very bad mistakes (bringing them to Amphibia, striking a deal with Andrias behind their backs, and not taking a side in Anne and Sasha's fight, which is something I never see people bring up as one of Marcy's most flawed moments).

So... going back to the question I made in the beginning... did Marcy just go along with Sasha's plans so enthusiastically when compared to Anne, who had more doubts and had to be pressured into them, that it made it look like she and Sasha were more in cahoots than they actually were? I think this is very likely. I also think it's likely that she and Sasha genuinely shared a liking for rule breaking back in LA, and her own self-centered-ness prevented her from realizing Anne wasn't comfortable with it. Maybe she never even considered if she liked to go along with Sasha's plans, like, Marcy strikes me as someone who doesn't look inwards much. I think we can rule out both Sasha and Marcy being equally controlling and possesive of Anne, because her relationship with Sasha was very much not one of equals, with Anne as a third wheel. Was she more of a third wheel? We know Anne and Sasha don't share most of her interests and will often ignore her and her needs, and we know she feels like losing them is becoming dangerously easy. We also know Sasha has no qualms taking Anne on some kind of birthday date without Marcy which I'm 75% convinced it's because she had a huge crush on Anne but I digress which, from a doylian perspective, is explained by the fact that they seemingly didn't want to show Marcy too early, but from a watsonian perspective, it just comes across as Sasha not priorizing Anne spending her birthday with both her best friends. Like, you can do with or without Marcy. She doesn't seem to remember Marcy until she texted her, actually.

But then you have lines from Anne about how "if you friend wants to you steal something, you do it, because if you don't, they may not want to be your friend anymore", which, oh boy, if she at least perceived Marcy as pressuring her into stealing the box (rather than it being 100% Sasha's idea) that would shed a whole new light on her relationship with Marcy, because it would seem like she, too, feels like their friendship could fall apart if she didn't go along with the other two's plans. And I do think Marcy at least somewhat participated in pushing Anne into it. It wouldn't be the first time she made Anne do something bad - she told her to lie to Valeriana about stealing the box, something Anne later appeared to be ashamed of, and she insisted of going along with the puppy party when Anne was having doubts. I imagine Sasha (who also pressured Anne into doing very much not so "lawful good" things, in more extreme ways than Marcy) might have come up with the idea of stealing it, and Marcy just supported it. Marcy taking Sasha's side. Possibly over and over again. We know Sasha didn't exactly manipulate her because she didn't have to: Marcy just always did everything she said. Anne was the one who needed a bit more convincing.

Marcy's relationship with Anne and Sasha is fascinating. She's definitely the most morally gray of the trio, and possibly the most complex one too, in the sense that she's full of realistic contradictions - an adorkable manipulator, an amoral softie, a self-centered sweetheart who loves her friends more than life itself, a possesive kidnapper with a heart of gold, a very selfish and self-sacrificial person... and it's never just a mask or anything, she's not just pretending to be nice, she really is that way, she really is all of that together. I think that's why people struggle to read her a lot of the times, because so much about her characterization seems conflicting with itself... but I think that's the key to making characters deep and realistic. In real life, we're all walking contradictions and we don't really make sense. Marcy's character doesn't seem clumsily put together to me, like they frankeinsteined all the different character traits she needed to make the plot work without any cohesion between them. I think she's a complex tapestry that sometimes requires a closer inspection to decypher it, and I think the glue holding everything together is her lack of intrapersonal intelligence, her inability to look inwards and notice her own contradictions.

We know she felt unloved by her friends yet desperately clung to them with everything she had, going to extreme measures to ensure they all stayed together, even when it hurt them. We know she's capable of manipulation, scheming and lying to the people that love her most in order to guarantee that goal. We know she's possesive with them, but she also loves them enough to let them go in the rare cases when she realizes she's hurting them (as seen in A Day in the Aquarium). From her journal, we also know she feels very ashamed of these possesive impulses. We know she'll neglect to form her own opinions and ideas to agree always with her friends' wishes, which means she feels completely lost when they want different things. But this also shows that she would never think of an idea of hers as being explicitly opposed to what her friends want. She wouldn't consciously do something that they wouldn't like. Which is insane, because, who would want to be separated from their family and thrown into a different world without any sort of notice? Which leads us to understand that Marcy has zero emotional intelligence and has never looked inwards in her LIFE, AND that her empathy skills are in negative digits because it would have taken her a nanosecond of thought to realize Anne and Sasha probably wouldn't like to be kidnapped. And since we know she never wants to do something they dislike, she must have just... not thought about it at all. No thoughts head empty. It really was just BLANK up there when she made that decision. I think Marcy is a very "true neutral" character who struggles with empathy and humility, who loves her friends but doesn't have the emotional intelligence to really understand them, and who is happy and enthusiastic to be Sasha 2 Electric Boogaloo because... that's what she knows. That's how her friend group works and her goal was never to have a deeper and more genuine connection to them, but to keep it close to her.

So... my conclussion is that, pre-amphibia, Marcy was Sasha's very enthusiastic (but emotionally neglected) right hand man, with Anne as their oblivious victim. It really IS complex because you have to then add Anne always looking out for her, losing sleep over her, yet also ignoring her needs, and Sasha not even bothering to hide how much she doesn't care about Marcy's feelings (which reflects on Marcy not consciously caring about her own feelings). There's also Marcy always assuming the best from them too, despite repeated evidence of their disinterest, and her fear of displeasing them looming over her constantly. Ik I said Anne was Sasha and Marcy's victim, but I meant that like... symbolically, because Anne is not innocent here either. She wasn't a great friend to Marcy before Amphibia. Here's why I always say Anne couldn't develop a deeper, more genuine and open connection with Marcy because of Sasha's oppressive presence and her own lack of emotional maturity. And Marcy couldn't develop a deeper, more genuine and open connection with Anne because of her own lack of empathy and reluctance to face any kind of conflict. So Marcy is Sasha's enthusiastic but emotionall neglected right hand man, who also feels subordinate to Anne despite Anne feeling subordinate to her. That's why they both feel like third wheels at different times. There's an illusion of Marcy with more agency and power than she actually has. In reality, only Sasha is on top, and the other two are two very flawed individuals, one slowly cracking under the weight and the other, less sensitive to the same pressure, trying to uphold the status quo.

[eepwriting]

Feeling like loving on our favorite drummer. Maybe something about tattoos? Getting matching ink with reader? Or talking reader through first tattoo? :) (your fics are so wonderful btw)

Tattoos With II Headcanons

Warnings: none

This is so cute omg AND ii is getting some more love on here!! And thank you so much anon for the sweet compliment and for sending a request in! 🤍

✧༝┉˚ MASTERLIST ˚┉༝✧

✦ taglist: @ghostlygothicgay @skellyflowers @mathfairchild1 @evisnotok @jeriiicho @adenobabe @trying-not-horny-on-main @rain-down-on-me

⁺˚⋆｡°✩₊✩°｡⋆˚⁺ ⁺˚⋆｡°✩₊✩°｡⋆˚⁺ ⁺˚⋆｡°✩₊✩°｡⋆˚⁺ ⁺˚⋆｡°✩₊✩°｡⋆˚⁺ ⁺˚

Matching Tattoos

✶ Is ECSTATIC when you come to him with the idea.

✶ He’s on board right away.

✶ Will spend a lot of time thinking of the perfect design, obviously taking you into consideration as well.

✶ I can see him drawing 10+ designs on paper and getting your opinions on each one.

✶ If you have a solid, well built idea, really no matter what it is, he’ll get it. No questions asked.

✶ If it means getting a matching piece with you, it doesn’t matter to him.

✶ He makes sure to book the appointment with a solid and reputable artist.

✶ Day of, he’s bouncing off the walls with excitement.

✶ Basically makes a whole day out of it.

✶ Out to eat for breakfast/lunch, appointment, maybe a sweet treat after and something fun to end the day.

✶ Takes LOTS of pictures during and after the appointment of y’all’s new ink.

✶ Gives you a day by day update on healing even if it’s not that exciting.

✶ If people ask him about the tattoo, he always mentions that it’s a matching one with you.

✶ I think his heart would grow two sizes bigger every time he looked at it.

Excuse me while I cry at this thought.

⁺˚⋆｡°✩₊✩°｡

Reader’s First Tattoo

✶ He’s the first person you ask when you’re finally ready to book an appointment.

✶ He’s very excited for you and gives you extremely detailed advice based on his past experiences.

✶ Asks to see the design you pick a thousand times.

✶ The least judgmental person, he loves the idea no matter what it is, because it’s one you picked.

✶ Is so happy when you ask him to go with you to the appointment.

✶ Makes sure you eat beforehand and drink plenty of fluids.

✶ Definitely packs sweets and juice for you just in case.

✶ We all know he’s covered so he feels very comfortable in the environment, which eases any nerves you may be feeling.

✶ Will absolutely hold your hand if you ask.

✶ Strikes up a conversation with your artist that involves the three of you so there’s no awkward lulls.

✶ Gives you encouraging smiles and hand squeezes if you need it.

✶ Takes lots of pictures of your new ink when it’s finished.

✶ Also gives you lots of compliments on how the new piece fits you perfectly.

✶ Gives his opinions on aftercare and makes sure you care for the new tattoo, while answering any questions you have.

✶ It’s not long before he’s subtly suggesting to get a matching one with you.

⁺˚⋆｡°✩₊✩°｡⋆˚⁺ ⁺˚⋆｡°✩₊✩°｡⋆˚⁺ ⁺˚⋆｡°✩₊✩°｡⋆˚⁺ ⁺˚⋆｡°✩₊✩°｡⋆˚⁺ ⁺˚

Why do I genuinely want to cry thinking about this

K. Bye bye.

[multipleoccupancy]

He had thought she had known about the therapy though he was glad she had been oblivious to it. It meant she had not had to go through it too and he still wondered what damage it had done to him. Her expression at least tamed his words a little and he was mindful to be more careful of what he revealed. She was only getting a glimpse of his time in the ward and he was under the incorrect impression that it wasn't his time at all. There were some things she didn't need to know.

Seeing that his lecture had an impact if not quite the desired one, Theo softened. "I know you were just trying to help him," he clarified, "You're young and you see opportunities where others might not, but sometimes they need adjusting." Or dropping as ideas all together. She had been reckless again and Theo knew all too well there was a real pattern of her being reckless and getting hurt but he didn't know how to stop it, he'd tried talking to her about it but it clearly didn't sink in and since returning from the dimension she had been stuck in for six months, she had only become bolder.

Perhaps it was a moment of realisation for her and he should not be offering comfort but space to reflect on it properly? Should he treat her like a scolded agent he had been sent to 'correct'. He didn't much like the comparison, she was his daughter.

His methods worked on others, maybe it was time for that delivery. He looked to her though, as her eyes averted from his gaze and tears hung on her eyelashes, his heart breaking at the sight while she was already going through her own hell in living through the ward he so very much hated and feared. "Sometimes we have to step back and see there are parts to this world that we can do nothing about. You can't save Theo from that ward, no one but the agents that go in to collect him can." He offered bluntly instead, he had harsher words forming in his mind but he didn't quite have the heart to say them, she didn't need to hate him.

𝐓𝐇𝐄𝐎 & 𝐕𝐈𝐎𝐋𝐄𝐓 @multipleoccupancy

Violet's mouth fell open, horror written all over her features as her dad admitted to getting electroshock therapy and considering trying his luck out the window. She shuddered and closed her mouth. Yes, Theo just needed to wait it out. Violet knew her dad was right. But she was there every night. She could see how hard it was to just "wait it out." How each day was a new torture. Every minute slow and terrifying.

But before she could even think of arguing, her father started listing all the different holes in her plan (Theo's plan). She blushed, eyes welling up. What would they have done with the discharge papers? She had assumed showing them to the orderlies would be enough. She had assumed they would let them leave the ward without a parent to pick them up. And now that her dad was pointing out how unrealistic it was, she was embarrassed and disheartened.

"I didn't think of that," she admitted sheepishly, looking at the bedsheets to avoid her dad's eyes. She didn't know what else to say. She didn't even have the energy to argue with her father. He could lecture her, she deserved it. The plan had failed! And even if it had succeeded, it would have failed in the end. She had just failed. She couldn't save Theo from the ward, and it was too late to save her dad from it.

[elsa-fogen]

It was like the end of the world (fake tumblr dash)

new way of telling the lore.

There are few familiar faces, try to find them all

0 notes

🧇cool-nickname2000 Follow dec 12, 2001

Guys am I cursed or it's snowing outside?

💀lovemagic12-deactivated20130512 dec 12, 2001

holy- it is?!!

🤷‍♀️im-just-h3re Follow dec 12, 2001

wtf?! fr-

i was thinking like, why is it so cold, i thought my temperature control charm broke, but i didn't even look at the window--

🌚grass-lover Follow dec 12, 2001

bro you should really go touch some grass

🤷‍♀️im-just-h3re Follow dec 12, 2001

bitch, where?!

456 notes

👽svetoch-of-your-life15 Follow dec 12, 2001

I've been living in Magix for like past 10 years and this is the first time i see actual snow here... what's going on?

💀peace-n-love-deactivated20230101 dec 12, 2001

I feel like someones getting fired for this...

45 notes

💀pull-the-lever-deactivated20200710 dec 12, 2001

finally some normal weather @.magix-weather-official thanks

🌸newflowereveryday Follow dec 12, 2001

NORMAL? fuck u, my damn flowers are dying 😭

💀pull-the-lever-deactivated20200710 dec 12, 2001

and? 🙄

#someone just being fucking drama queen #annoying af #get over it bitch #nobody cares about your stupid flowers #stfu #snow in magix 2001

17 notes

🥞i-love-tututututut Follow dec 12, 2001

@.magic-weather-official THE FUCK IS GOING ON?!

#weather #magix #snow in magix 2001 #like WHAT

1256 notes

🚠fairy-of-your-dreams Follow dec 12, 2001

@.magix-weather-official you want us all dead admit it!

🥞i-love-tututututut Follow dec 12, 2001

FR! Could've at least warned about this bs

#weather #snow in magix 2001 #reblog

175 notes

⚜️headmistress-faragonda Follow dec 12, 2001

Dear students, due to the weather conditions all outside lessons are cancelled. However, it's not your free time, wait for the directions from your teachers and use this time for self-preparation!

8 947 notes

🚥magix-traffic-control-official💠 Follow dec 12, 2001

Everyone, please, be careful on the roads today! We'll try our best to make your rides as comfortable as possible in these conditions!

#snow in magix 2001

50 786 667 notes

🌦️magix-weather-official 💠 Follow dec 12, 2001

We are aware of the situation and are trying our best to fix everything asap! Please, stay calm. It's very important to support each other at times like these. Remember, we can get through it if we stay together!

128 998 765 notes

🕳️lurking-inthedark Follow dec 12, 2001

RemEMbEr iF wE STay TOgeThEr @.magix-weather-official is your PR a fucking fairy

🎱not-your-bb Follow dec 12, 2001

Fr lmao who they think we are

☕dont-talk-me Follow dec 12, 2001

together my ass fucking morons, i'm gonna turn into a acid-flavored ice-cream any fucking second, FIX THE DAMN WEATHER!

#snow in magix 2001 #i'm gonna kill someone fr #i hate this

16 notes

🎱not-your-bb Follow dec 13, 2001

@.magix-weather-official IT'S BEEN A WHOLE DAY ASSHOLES

i wish you all icebergs in your beds

⚓sea-nothing-funny Follow dec 13, 2001

ask @.cold-b-witch i think she can do that lol

🎱not-your-bb Follow dec 13, 2001

HJFHFJHDGDFHKJGDF LMAOO that was funny

heat death of the universe will come faster than this excuse of a witch turn anyone's bed into ice

👁️‍🗨️animal-hater-no-shi Follow dec 13, 2001

Still faster than @.magix-weather-official fix this mess

🎱not-your-bb Follow dec 13, 2002

fair

🖤darcy-d-ark Follow dec 13, 2001

you have no idea...

@.stormy-in-the-room look at them. so pure and naive.

🌩️stormy-in-the-room Follow dec 13, 2002

oh yeah) if they only knew...

🎱not-your-bb Follow dec 13, 2001

tf you two mean

🖤darcy-d-ark Follow dec 13, 2002

)

🎱not-your-bb Follow dec 13, 2001

fuck you

#snow in magix 2001 #snow #end of the world

178 notes

👁️‍🗨️animal-hater-no-shi Follow dec 14, 2001

Damn i was really waiting for this necromancy practice! But there's no way we dig anything with the weather like this

🌩️stormy-in-the-room Follow dec 14, 2001

nerd

👁️‍🗨️animal-hater-no-shi Follow dec 14, 2001

stfu

🖤darcy-d-ark Follow dec 14, 2001

wait did Griffin got a permission?!

6 notes

🌦️magix-weather-official 💠 Follow dec 16, 2001

We are happy to to announce that the issue was finally found! We are working hard on fixing it. In few hours everything will be back to normal! Thanks for your patience and support! 🌸

209 009 145 notes

🖤darcy-d-ark Follow dec 12, 2001

Everyone: freaking out about the weather (it's like -10)

Me, who grew up on a planet where average temp is around -67:

🖤darcy-d-ark Follow may 28, 2013

@.cold-b-witch found it.

❄️cold-b-witch Follow may 28, 2013

Huh.

78 notes

[lonesome-pear]

Ok but like. This post got me thinking. I think life’s purpose is both something we will never know and something we can create for ourselves. What if my purpose was purely to bring joy? What if I made the universe empty and uncaring for the sake of longevity, which was not just not my purpose, but the complete opposite? What if life really is just about those little fleeting moments of whimsy? I think it is. I truly believe my one purpose here is to bring joy to other people. Not in a “I’m gonna be a doormat who does nothing but people please” kind of way, but in a “life is hard enough, let’s make it easier for each other” kind of way

The thought of going against that for the sake of. What. Not being forgotten? Not dying? What does that do? Does it prove something? Does it fulfill me? Why would I do it if there’s no reason. Out of curiosity? I don’t think I could justify that, and I do many things just for the sake of “what would it be like?” So idk. Maybe I’ll go laminate a paper towel. Because the universe imploding and leaving only me feels like a very specific kind of hell

I live not for the sake of living, but for the things that happen in life. I decide to get up in the morning not because it extends my life, but because maybe I’ll get to see my friends that day. Hell, maybe I’ll even make them laugh. Maybe they’ll see me and immediately run over to me just to talk for a few minutes while they wait for a ride home. Maybe I’ll bring them a small moment of joy. Maybe that little moment of joy came at a time where they didn’t know those happen anymore. And maybe they’ll do the same for me, because we love each other and we want to make our lives easier for each other

Maybe my friends will make me laugh. Maybe I’ll see them and immediately run up to them just to talk for a few minutes before I go home. Who knows. Maybe the universe continues to exist because I decided to get up and go have moments of genuine connection. Even if they don’t last. Even if they are fleeting. It still mattered. I had a purpose. I might come to end, but the impact those small moments had won’t

Because then my friends will keep going. They’ll get up in the morning and decide to go spread joy to their other friends. And those people will bring happiness to their other friends. And it just keeps going. And some of them will have kids and teach them to do the same. And it just keeps going

So maybe the universe isn’t cold and uncaring. Because how could a universe so uncaring have people in it that are so loving. How could a universe so cold have moments and smiles so warm. How could choosing to be immortal preserve your longevity any more than being remembered for the comfort you brought to others. If you were left alone in the universe, all that would be left is you and it would be a self fulfilling prophecy of having no impact on anything, at least not anymore. But if you choose to live life. Then you could have such a great impact that changes the course of everything forever for the better, even if it’s only a little bit better

Anyway I don’t really have a point here, it’s late at night and I’ve been feeling very existential lately

Or maybe it’s just a laminated paper towel

I laminated a paper towel

[autumnmobile12]

Finishing Touches on Malicious Compliance

Fanart for the Endeavor Agency Annual Christmas Party because I just felt like it.

It's kinda weird them drawing with the height differences in mind and showing how tall Touya is compared to the women in his family. We know Fuyumi is 5'3" and Touya clocks it in at 5'9". Rei doesn't have an official height listed, but we can see in the family shot she is a little shorter than Fuyumi. So I put her mother Grandma Himura's height about the same at 5' exactly.

Also, I don't know if there was an attempt to contain Touya's fluffy hair, but if there was, I think the ladies gave up pretty quick.

...

With Touya wearing a woman's kimono, this seems like a good time to bring up gender identity. In the Ambush Sim AU, he does identify as male, but he is not opposed to wearing feminine clothing for comfort/practicality purposes, or in this case, pure spite. So I suppose that's a characteristic that skews more demi-masculine(?) orientation. Except I think if anybody tries to pin down exactly how Touya identifies, all they're gonna get is a shrug because he is long past the point of caring about labels. When it comes to gender identity and which public restroom to use, Touya is very much in Camp 'Just Wash Your Hands When You're Done And We'll Get Along Fine.' So while wearing a woman's kimono may have started out as malicious compliance against his father, it may also have served as some self-realization for him. Here, he's a teenager who missed out on three years of mental/physical/emotional development and figuring himself out. And he has a very encouraging and understanding grandmother.

In any case, I hope I'm using the demi-masculine term correctly. I know someone in real life who identifies as demi-feminine, and she said this was accurate, so I'm trusting her opinion.

...

You would not believe the amount of research I put into drawing their kimono accurately according to situation/season. Because kimono do have seasonal patterns/colors and are varied by formality, age, and sometimes marital status of the wearer.

So breaking down the kimono in the fanart to the best of my understanding:

All three of them are wearing homoungi, a semi-formal to formal kimono that is typically worn by guests to formal parties, such as a wedding, graduation ceremony, dinner party, etc. Since the Endeavor Agency Christmas party is a company event, I figured it would be considered semi-formal. Homoungi are generally characterized by having a pattern along the hem, sleeves, and over the left shoulder seam.

The kimono colors:

With winter colors, shades of red are popular, but otherwise, more neutral colors work just as well. Since Grandma Himura is an elderly widow, I thought dark green would be a good choice since it's not flashy and more what you'd expect a dignified older woman to wear. (That's a cultural thing, not my personal opinion!) The pattern on hers is bamboo stalks and leaves. Fuyumi's kimono is white with bare branches and camellia blossoms. Touya's is a wintry blue (actually, that's same color as the rindou flowers) and has a roughly drawn yukiwa motif. Yukiwa is a Japanese pattern made to resemble snowflakes or flowers.

Obi:

Again, neutral colors/patterns. Or at least ones that complement the kimono. Fuyumi's scarlet one matches the flowers. Touya's is black lacquer (urushi) with abstract silver embroidery. Grandma Himura's obi is white for snow with abstract flowers in silver embroidery.

Kanzashi:

Again, winter-themed hair pieces, so Touya's is a carnation arrangement hana-kanzanshi and Fuyumi has a camellia. Touya's also wearing a wisteria kanzashi, which I don't think are considered winter flowers, but I like the look of them, so they were included. If you look closely, they also have little bells. Grandma Himura's is mostly hidden because of how she's standing, but she's wearing a tama-kanzashi and a kushi.

Deepest apologies for any inaccuracies above. I am not a kimono expert and I did the best I could with what I had to work with.

...

I realized something rather sad while drawing this. In The Summer Camp Ambush Simulation, it's mentioned Grandma Himura died a few weeks after Touya's eighteenth birthday, so he can't be any older than sixteen or seventeen in this fanart. Since I don't think he made any public appearances so soon after returning home, he's more likely seventeen years old here.

Seventeen years old, it's Christmas, and he has a January birthday. So Grandma Himura dies in maybe two months after this, and I swear I did not intentionally set it up to be that tragic!

[dykedvonte]

I keep wondering how much curly even knew. He thought anya was trying to hurt herself bc they were all being let go (not bc jimmy sa'd her), but when she said 'i told you' he immediately knew she was talking about jimmy - but what did she tell him? did she tell him directly so he def knew that it wasn't a consensual encounter or did he only realize when jimmy told him that he'd get in trouble for it too? Or maybe he didn't believe anya at all at first? I wish we'd gotten that part of the conversation bc his behaviour looks very different depending on the answer

Whenever I think about it I think of the factors we have and more importantly what we don’t.

It’s intentional that the details of what happened are vague. We don’t have the when where and how, we don’t actually know what told means in this context where characters speak to each other in pretty heavy “what ifs” and “do you get it”.

I always interpret it as in told in a sort of fore warning. All the little details she was giving Curly were her telling him and he couldn’t see them the same or at all. It’s kinda why I have a sort of disdain for the I told you so in fan works because what she told him and what we see and know as outsider may not be the same. I’m not blaming Anya, far from it. She made an effort to reach out to Curly in a way that didn’t implicate her, didn’t send Jimmy directly back to her. She never directly says Jimmy did it, she never uses the word rape, but when she says I told you, Curly knows. When she says she told Jimmy, Curly knows what that means. When he talks to Jimmy, he finally understands it. It’s his fault for not getting it, not doing enough for those wanting but I don’t believe they were anything he took as extremely dangerous, not until too late.

He did something, just not enough, not the right something.

I never had the impression he didn’t believe Anya more so he had no idea how to actually handle and address it. That is a big fault on his part as what he did do just prolong Jimmy’s inevitable crash out. He never took her concerns lightly and he did try to comfort her, but he didn’t get what those concerns were about, not fully. So comforting her can never feel fulfilling.

Something that always gets me is how much talking Jimmy does in his scenes with Curly. Curly sorta shuts down and just lets him say whatever and we have try and piece a coherent thought process for him together about words and intentions that aren’t his own. The conversations we see are likely all the conversations that happened, the ones that mattered, that paint the bigger picture with little details.

We all assume the I told you was a direct statement but almost everything is n the game is cheekily indirect. We assume he’s known for a while, but we can’t know. I feel like us not knowing how aware Curly was is a big point of the commentary. Awareness helps us act more appropriately. He knows Jimmy was at least patronizing towards her position but that’s all he gleaned himself, hence why he takes over the psych eval for him. It’s a lot of wondering what was discussed between him and Anya and how it was.

If it was anything like the dead pixel conversation, which we only get towards the middle end, after we see a lot of the signs, the. I don’t think it got through his thick skull :/. Not in time at least.

[transgenderpolls]

‘Trans younger’ ‘transitioned more recently’ are these really the conversations we’re having now?what do those terms mean exactly? Transitioned more recently. You mean socially transitioned? Medically transition? Surgically transitioned? Or just realised they were trans? Accepted they were trans but didn’t/couldn’t come out? Because I thought we were against judging people because they are trans in ‘the wrong way’?? Are we genuinely trying to play the ‘who’s more trans’ game or something? Jesus Christ. There’s few enough of us already can we just date the people who we find attractive and share interests with like everyone else in the world?

on this blog, unless otherwise specified, "transitioned" generally refers to the mental transition of realizing you're trans and changing your identity. that particular poll does also literally include options about specifying that other aspects of someone's experience as their gender are what would matter irt being in a relationship with them. and like all my polls, it has the 'it's complicated/other' option.

i'm honestly not sure how you saw the objective descriptor "transitioned more recently" and took away from it that anyone was being judged as "less trans." or that anyone was even being judged for the option that they picked. it's a poll, dude. it's a question about personal comfort. it's presenting options and trying to see how most people feel about it. what about that post implies judgment? or that anyone believes that you can't "date the people you find attractive"? when someone in real life asks you "do you have issues with any food textures" do you respond "oh my GOD can i not just eat whatever foods i want??"

and hey, for that matter, i chose the option "yes, i would be uncomfortable" on that poll. which, albeit one of the least commonly picked options, i think is a completely rational personal boundary, and not just an arbitrary "judgment." most people like to date people who they can relate to and who have similar amounts of life experience to them, don't they? i would have very little in common with a guy who's spent a significantly less amount of time knowing that he was a man and having lived as a man. that would feel similar, to me, to dating someone much younger in general.

if that bothers you, it literally doesn't matter because we'll never meet and because the majority answer is people having absolutely no issue with dating ppl who transitioned more recently. so, like literally who gives a shit.

[heretherebedork]

I actually wish we were more comfortable putting criticism in the main tags. I know that Tumblr's tagging system is kind of annoying, so filtering out critical tags when people are probably using like 50 different versions would be difficult. But sometimes tbh, I did not enjoy a piece of media I consumed. Sometimes, I didn't like a BL, and I don't like having to hunt through blogs like a crazy person to find someone who agrees with me.

I used to do that, anon.

And then I didn't like a popular show.

And got attacked. By anons and comments.

So now I don't put it in the main tag unless it is very specifically about a show I love that I need to criticize as well.

Alas, anon, the search continues.

And it happens! People dislike shows and watch them and critique them and sometimes you can enjoy a show and see the critique and sometimes it feels like they're watching a totally different show then you and that has to be okay.

But, sadly, many fandoms are not ready for that dichotomy and that's okay, it has to be okay, it's never going to change.

But also honestly my MAME and Jittirain criticism really doesn't belong in the show's tags because no one enjoying the show would agree with me. And they don't want to hear it and that's okay.

I don't understand why it's so different for We Are or for other goofy shows but that's also okay. Some people are more comfortable with critiquing openly or tagged and some people aren't. I am not. I had a very bad experience in that popular fandom and never again.

I know that I watch MAME shows and groan about consent and other issues where so many people just see romance. I know that Jittirain stories about lying semes and the ukes they manipulate always make my eye twitch. I don't need to subject their fans to that. They know.. Or at least I think they know? I don't know anymore, people were putting MAME characters into green flag contests and I've got nothing.

I do understand how frustrating it has to be to try to find criticism only to realize that it's all hidden. But sometimes that just how humans work. In order to share an experience we have to set aside space for criticism that isn't in the same place as the love and praise. Not always... but sometimes.

And that's why I watch all the shows I watch and I make sure to talk about them, tagged or not, if I have anything to say.

(I mean, y'all, I got multiple annoyed anons for how I talk about Joke and Jack and I like them both.)

[vanfleeter]

Bound For Earth: Chapter 8

Characters: Jake Kiszka, Josh Kiszka, Marlie, Ivan. Warnings: 18+ || Language. Smut. Allusions to sex. Penetrative sex. Fluff. Tooth achingly sweet proposal. Brotherly banter. A/N: We are back with the sci-fi!

Bound For Earth Masterlist

_________________________________________________________________

“Jake, what are you doing?” Marlie asks as I pull her through the corridors.

Today marks three months since Marlie and our family made the trip here to Mars. We’ve shown them just about everything. I took Sam out in one of the space cars and he absolutely fell in love with it. Danny fell right into rhythm helping out in the training modules. Apparently he’s big on fitness and helping to keep everyone in shape has been quite the joy for him. Mom and Dad fell back into work, Mom working from the command center and Dad went right back to working on the cruiser and fixing any problems with any of the space crafts if there were any problems. Josh and Ivan seemed to get even closer. I still sometimes see them sneaking in and out of each other’s cabins every now and then. As long as he’s happy, that’s all that matters.

Marlie and I have spent nearly every minute together, except for when I have to work. When I do, she’ll go off and help Josh in the agricultural side of the station. Apparently she too has a green thumb.

It has been an adjustment period and not everything has been exactly sunshine and rainbows. Living on the station is a lot different than living on Earth. You don’t have much freedom to do things and living in close quarters is not always easy, especially when you have a small bed that typically only fits one person.

Sex was easy when it didn't require having to turn over often, which we sometimes did. Listen.. I’m trying to experience sex in any way that I possibly can and any way that she’s comfortable with. But damn.. I can’t tell you how many times we’ve hit the floor. Forget having bruises from sex, I get bruises just from falling off the bed.

I sleep on the outer side of the bed to keep her from falling off the bed. I didn’t entirely think that through very well. Neither of us can sleep on our backs or our stomachs, so we have to sleep on our sides which tends to get highly uncomfortable after a while so turning over just adds even more difficulty. It got to the point that I got fed up once in the middle of night and ended up sleeping on the floor. Still not comfortable but at least I won’t keep falling off the bed. I had petitioned to build a bigger bed in the cabin but per usual, my request was denied. The only reasoning being that Marlie would be going back to Earth in three months so the head honcho felt that it would just be a waste. Whatever..

Sharing such close quarters was also not easy. Always having to squeeze past each other in the bathroom. Marlie tripped over my computer chair so many times. Trying to take a shower together proved difficult so that was eliminated almost immediately. Even trying to change at the same time resulted once in her swinging her elbow and nailing me in the throat. She was offered to stay in an empty cabin but that was clear on the other side of the station. She declined it gracefully whereas I may have used a few not so nice words. So living in the same tiny cabin will have to be done for the time being.

“I want to show you something.” I say as I unlock the doors to the dome. Inside it was filled with all different kinds of monitors and radars. A spiral staircase led upwards towards the top where a giant telescope sat and pointed outwards to look beyond the station. Dragging her up the steps, I stop in front of the telescope. “I think you’re going to like this.” I peer through the eyepiece of the telescope, adjusting it to the right position until I find what I’m looking for. “Here, take a look.”

She steps up to the telescope and peers into the eyepiece, “Woah.. Is that Saturn?”

“Yeah, we’re close enough to see Saturn in its orbit.”

“That’s so amazing. I never thought I’d see Saturn this close ever.”

“It’s quite the sight.”

She pulls away from the telescope, “Do you ever see Jupiter?”

“Every now and then, definitely more often than Saturn.”

She turns back to the telescope and looks into the eyepiece again. “Those rings are so gorgeous up close.”

“I had this crazy thought of what if it were possible to take one and give it to you..”

She scoffs with a giggle, “That is quite impossible.”

“Which is why I made you one.”

“What?” She pulls away and turns back around to face me.

“I was five years old when a group of astronauts made the trip from here to Saturn. They wanted to get as close as they could to observe the planet and its rings for better accuracy. Well, they got close enough to collect little pieces of the outer rings.” I dug into my pocket and pulled out a silver band that had a decent sized diamond on it. “I asked Patrick in the welding department if he could take some of the collected material from that trip and make a ring out of it.”

“Jake..”

“I know this is sudden and we haven't really talked about this..” I step up close to her and reach for her left hand. “I love you Marlie and I want to marry you, if you’ll have me.”

“Oh Jake..” She covers her mouth as her eyes fill with tears. “Of course I will.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah! Yes!” She exclaims, excitedly bouncing on the tips of her toes.

I slip the ring on her finger and she throws her arms around my neck, effectively pulling me in for a kiss. No one knew of our engagement, I made sure to keep it a secret considering how easily word can spread around here.

That night we made love like we’ve never done before. Quite frankly because we did it right there by the telescope. I think the reason it felt different was because we’re engaged but because it’s a bit public and the risk of someone walking in and finding us just makes it quite the thrill.

_________________________________________________________________________

The proposal wasn’t the only surprise I had in store for her. I kept up with my training and my progress was moving along very well. Living on Earth was still a goal for me. Though I’d be away from Josh, I didn’t want to take Marlie away from all of that and bring her up here to next to nothing. She keeps telling me that she loves it up here but I just know that after some time she’ll grow to not like living up here 24/7. So for now, I’ll keep training to grow my immunity to Earth’s gravity.

As I make my way down the corridors towards our cabin, I’m yanked from the hall and into Josh’s cabin. “What the hell?” I say as he pins me to the bed.

“How can you propose to Marlie and not say anything to me?” He says above me.

“What? How did you–”

“She wasn’t so quick to hide the ring when I saw her in the common area. You never even mentioned wanting to propose and then boom, suddenly you’re engaged?!”

“Shhh!” I clamp my hands over his mouth. “Shut up, loudmouth. Who all else knows?”

Josh pushes my hands away from his face and stands back up to his feet. “As far as I know, just me.” Josh says. “But if she can’t hide that thing properly, Mom’s definitely going to find out and she’s going way more pissed than I am that you didn’t say anything.”

“I’m sorry I didn’t tell you–”

“I am your brother–your twin!” He exclaims, throwing his arms around in the air. “Out of everyone on this damn station, I should have been the first to know.”

“Are you finished being dramatic?” I say as I stand on my feet.

“Wah–Yes..” He huffs.

“And the reason I didn’t tell you was because I know how you are. Mom would have found out before I could even propose.”

“I would not have told her,” Josh says in defense of himself with his hands on his hips.

“Oh no?” I say, my eyebrows raising. “Then who was the one who told Mom that I took out the rover that very first time without supervision?”

“Well–”

“And the time that I snuck out to watch the sun rise from the canyons?”

“But–”

“Admit it, Josh. You would have blabbed.”

Josh rolls his eyes and folds his arms over his chest. He then peeks at me from the side. “Am I at least going to be your best man?”

“No, I was thinking maybe Sam–or Danny, he seems cool.”

“What?!”

I laugh and playfully shove him. “I’m kidding! Of course you’d be my best man! You’ve been by my side our whole lives–not like you had a choice–why would I choose someone over you?”

“Mmhmm…”

I chuckle and start heading for the door and I slide it open only to find Ivan on the other side with his fist raised to knock. “Oh.. Hi..” He awkwardly smiles. “I didn’t know-”

“No, you’re good!” I say with a smile. “I’m on my way out anyways.” We trade spots and I step out in the hall. “Have fun, be safe!”

Josh’s eyes grow wide. “Jake!”

I wink at him before closing the door and hurrying down the hall to our cabin. Sliding open the door, I hear Marlie gasp and I look up to see her covering her top half with one of my tshirts. She sighs in relief and sits down on the bed. “You scared me..” She says. I walk over with a smile on my face and I lean down to kiss her. “I haven’t seen you all day, how was it?”

“Good, actually,” I say as I sit beside her on the bed.

“You’ve been training a lot,” She says. “I like watching you.”

“You watch me?”

Marlie nods her head as she smiles. “You look so sexy when you’re all sweaty.”

“Do I?” I say as I lean in close to her, rubbing my nose against her.

“Mmhmm..”

“And I bet I’d look even sexier if I took all of my sweaty clothes off, hmm?”

“It’s possible.”

I smile against her lips and kiss her as I gently lay her back on the bed. She grabs the ends of my shirt and pulls it up my back. I lean back on my knees and pull off my shirt the rest of the way.

I whisper all of the sweet things into her ear as I slowly make love to her, savoring it all. I soak in all the places she touches me and I save all of her sounds in my head. All these years I have spent up here feeling trapped and as if I’d die up here without experiencing some kind of love.

But I found it, and I found her. Even though our short time spent on Earth didn't give me much, I still am grateful. I just hope all of this training pulls off.

When we both meet our ends, I go to pull out of her when she pulls me back and kisses me. “I love you.” She says. “I really do.”

“I love you too.” I say as I kiss her back.

–Four Months Later–

“I think you’re ready to go,” Ivan says with a proud smile on his face. “Both you and Josh have been shown a lot of progress since coming back.”

“You think?” Josh asks with a cock of his eyebrow.

Ivan chuckles. “I know,” He says as leans over to kiss Josh. “However, we still have to take precautions.”

“I knew it was too good to be true.” I grumble.

Ivan chuckled and I raised my head to look at him with a questionable look on my face. “Just for the first week or two, we’ll be monitoring the both of you. If anything should happen–”

“We’ll get shipped right back here..” I finished.

“Not exactly,” Ivan says, shaking his head. “Some of our engineers have been building a prototype of a lighter gravity chamber so in the event that something should happen–again–we’ll have a place to bring you instead of rushing you into outer space.”

“And it works?” Josh asks.

Ivan nods his head. “So… With all of that being said.. How about we head back to our cabins, pack up what all you want to bring back down with you, and get some rest. The cruiser leaves tomorrow afternoon.”

Sliding open the cabin door, I find Marlie sitting on the edge of the bed and chewing at her nail. A nervous habit she seems to have picked up. When she hears me, she looks up and drops her hand from her mouth.

“What’d he say?” She asks as she rushes up to me. “Are you cleared to go?” I nod my head and a smile breaks out on her face. “I have never been happier,” She says as she kisses me. “All the hard work that you’ve been put in and it’s paying off, I’m so proud of you.”

“I was determined to be with you on Earth,” I say as I wrap my arms around her. “Last thing I wanted to do was to subject you to life up here. It can get quite boring.”

“Well I’ve been having fun actually,” She says. “Plus you’re here so it definitely feels like home.” I smile and lean down to kiss her. “But I’ll be excited to finally be able to eat something other than pees.”

I can't help but to laugh. “Now you know how I’ve been feeling.” I say as I pick her up. She wraps her legs around my waist and I carry her over to the bed.

“Would you like to celebrate?” She says.

“I thought you’d never ask..”

______________________________________________________________

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[poorly-drawn-mdzs]

Council of lovefools.

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[zehl0w]

Zenitsu agatsuma has got to be the biggest egg I have ever seen in my entire life