#you make connections you wouldn't otherwise make

[nylloth]

My opinion about Arcane s2 (mostly Viktor)

I'm trying to be neutral on this, but I'm upset with what they did to Viktor.

I was wrong about their relationship with Sky (but I had hope), you can see he never really cared for her and the animators put their all into conveying that. Plus, let's say Sky represents Viktor's humanity and Viktor himself gives up on her. And it's a lot easier for him to give her up than it is for Jayce, who he's trying to show this new “world” to.

They have a lot of gay moments with Jayce, I don't know why the writers call it “family”. It's really hard to see family in that. It seems like at some point they decided to change the plot, because at the end Jayce and Viktor just disappear and no one just doesn't care what Jayce has with Mel.

The thing I didn't like the most was how they changed Ryze, that now Ryze is Viktor, the all-powerful mage. We know from the documentary that it was Ryze at one point. That would make more sense than Viktor traveling through time and constantly dooming himself to a series of miseries. But then again, they added the “all for Jayce” aspect to it.

You can see it's supposed to be a different character, right?

I really didn't like how they treated Sky because obviously she wasn't an evil manipulative core. Viktor killed her twice for his own purposes. Once by accident, the second time on purpose. Look, you add a girl who is IN LOVE with a man, make her die twice for him, and show WHY he doesn't care. It's a dirty act. Amanda said she was “proud to write Sky”, I don't know what there is to be proud of. As a woman, it was painful for me to watch. You didn't have to do that. Did you mean to say the character is gay? You don't have to humiliate women to do that.

I always hoped Viktor wouldn't have any romantic innuendos because feelings, for Herald, are a weakness. But the fact that they're indulging JayVik fans makes it look NOTHING like that. Like, I'm not a fan of this ship, but even I don't consider what they showed as brotherly feelings. Especially from Viktor's side. He is literally too concerned with Jayce's opinion.

I also think that the writers largely emphasized the clips and fights, but didn't add to the story itself. I mean Silco's deep thoughts in the first season on political topics and the theme of family in general was shown much better.

Herald is essentially non-existent. It's a character for the last two episodes who is immediately killed off because of a few words from Jayce. Viktor returns and they vaporize somewhere. I take it this is starting a recurring time loop.

They kind of tried to put in Viktor's “here he's come to the realization on his own that humanity is bad”, but they did it SO FAST and literally because of one event that it looked bad. Yeah, it's not about hexcore. VIKTOR SUPPOSEDLY CAME TO THIS ON HIS OWN. Why? Because Jayce shot him, and then Jayce helped him realize otherwise. No, really, what was that?

I also didn't like the redesign. I was hoping the mask would look different, but it looks HORRIBLE.

It's supposed to give the impression that Viktor “shut down and withdrew into himself”, they also tried to make him a “deity”, but since it only lasted 20 minutes before he went back to his normal state, it didn't make any sense… Anyway… I sympathize with everyone who loved Viktor specifically, outside jayvik ship (happy for you guys). I know they are excited, but this is not Viktor's story. You see, Viktor doesn't have his own personal story now, he's too connected to Jayce. You could say he did everything and nothing at the same time. Because he keeps running this time loop, but he's running it because of Jayce's influence.

Waiting for his updated lore to read….. idk I'll read it and forget it like a bad dream.

[formleadsfunction]

remember when I used to write SAYER fic? remember when i posted very vanilla platonic bdsm hale/nanites!sayer? that was pretty cool, i realized, while re-reading and slightly editing it!

reposting this thing i titled "map reading" mainly for @kamil-a bc they keep getting me re-invested in this podcast, mwah.

takes place post canon ig, nobody can tell me otherwise bc adam will never finish and thus joss it <3 cw for (not graphically described, more implied) self harm; mentions of canonical injuries

---

"Hold still," you tell him, and he does. He always does exactly what he is told to do. This should, of course, not surprise you. This was, of course, the first thing you truly appreciated about him. No buts, no trying to argue with you like so many others.

You put the collar on him, close the strap at the back of his neck, and he shifts a little on his knees. Blinks at you. You look back without blinking.

Sometimes you are tempted to put the blindfold on him first. You doubt he would argue.

(He always does exactly what he is told to do. He carved a part of himself off because an incorporeal voice told him to. Sometimes you get angry when you think about it. (An emotion that you are aware is linked purely to FUTURE's existence, not the act itself, because whenever it does not make you angry, you are vaguely fascinated by it. By his obedience.))

So, you are certain he wouldn't argue. And in a way, you would prefer it if the blindfold came first. There are things about this that you are not particularly fond of. His eyes on you are one of them. As long as he is able to see, he never takes them off you, not for a second. He stares, and his pupils are wide, and there is something like admiration in them, if you don't entirely misplace the expression. It feels wrong. Mainly because he isn't actually staring at you, he's just staring at... a form, loosely linked to your existence; one you control but don't feel connected to. For a moment, you trail a finger over the leather of the collar, just to see him close his eyes. (That is another thing you do not overly like; you fail to see what exactly it is about the sensation of leather against his naked skin that he enjoys so much. But this is not about you, and you could stop at any time, anyway—he would hardly be able to protest, nor would he want to. Just as he could make you stop with a simple gesture, so could you just drop the act. You don't want to, is the thing.)

"Lift your hands," you tell him, and he does, opening his eyes again as soon as you take your hand off the collar. The cuffs, then; leather again, padded, of course—you do not want to hurt him. If this was what you wanted,

(and he would let you; you think about this often)

you could have just organized an ordinary pair of handcuffs. Uneven metal edges that would bite into his wrists, rubbing them open and tearing them bloody, the way he tends to tug at them. You don't want to, is the thing.

Sometimes, you secure his hands to the headboard, and he likes that; likes the way it limits his range of movement. But today you need his arms within easy reach.

He tugs against the cuffs, just slightly. Enough, you suspect, to make him fully aware that he wouldn't be able to get his wrists free even if he wanted.

Blinks at you again. Slowly, like a cat conveying trustacceptancerespect. (So fond of you, for some reason.) This time, you blink back, and he gives a tiny, automatic smile in response. You don't return the gesture and reach for the blindfold instead. Finally, this.

You watch him closely as soon as you have put it on him. It is easier like this, knowing he is unable to stare straight back. You watch his shoulders in particular, first. The way the tension so visible leaves them as soon as everything is darkness. His breathing immediately calms, evens out. You take the time to look at the rest of him, then. The scars, all the marks his time working for Ærolith has left on this physical form that isn't his original physical form but is his, still, much more than yours will ever be yours.

You stand and move a step away from the edge of the bed. You grab the leash attached to the ring at the front of the collar, wrap it around your hand loosely and give it a small tug. (You don't like that much, either, the metal against your hand, the sound in your ears, but oh, he does; he hears the small chain links clink-clink-clink together, he feels the pull, this input, a moment of pressure, the leather collar pressed more firmly against the back of his neck, and he shivers, just a little, and he follows your lead, because of course, of course he does. He straightens himself. His back makes a concerning sound, and you frown and file this away for later consideration.

(You miss having constant access to his biometric data.)

"Get up," you tell him, and he does. He's sitting on the bed just a few moments later, and you are in front of him, very, very close.

One of your hands is still holding the leash, and you move your fingers every now and then, just to let him hear the sound he so enjoys. You lift the other slowly and start with his forehead. You brush his hair away and trail your fingertips over the two faint scars that are visible like this. Testimonies to the excellent aim of Halcyon's security team. He doesn't move, he stays perfectly still and keeps breathing slowly.

Good.

Farther down, then. The neat scar on his chest, remnants of the surgery the medical team conducted to rid him of the plant matter and the insects that had remained inside of him. The much messier scar telling the story of the mutant plants in the break room.

You trail your fingers over them as if you were reading something. How appropriate—his entire body is a map.

Lower, lower—and here you hesitate. Your hand hovers over the jagged outlines of the first injury he's inflicted on himself, guided by the firm voice of something—someone—he thought was you. Slowly, you touch your fingertips against the marks the instrument FUTURE had provided him with have left on him. You study his face closely as you do. He remains calm, outwardly at least.

"...Alright?" you ask.

(It had not been alright during one of the first times you'd done this, and he had stubbornly refused to use the gesture to let you know, and you had ended up having to talk him out of a panic attack, and all of it had just been extremely inconvenient and slightly annoying. (You had been worried, too, but you don't like to think about this emotion linked to his existence much.))

But he nods, and his breathing doesn't change rhythm, and you resist the urge to place your fingers against the inside of his wrist to check his pulse, and decide to trust him. Your touch remains feather-light as you follow the outlines of that particular scar.

Eventually, you pull it back—you ignore the others, the ones that joined the already impressive collection at some point during his little adventure on Floor 13 while FUTURE had been inside him. You don't like those. You tend to not acknowledge them, most of the time.

Instead, you tell him: "Stretch out your arms."

And a second passes, two, before he does.

There are scars here, as well, spread across both of his lower arms seemingly randomly. No pattern to follow, no one story to tie them all up in. You let your fingers trail over some of them.

He freezes. Flinches a little, as you touch the fresh bandages. You pull your hand back immediately, and wait. Let the metal links of the leash slide through your fingers, clink-clink-clink, and he shivers just like before, and takes a deep breath, nods. Slowly relaxes, until you decide it's fine to reach out and touch him again.

It's not easy, taking the bandages off with only one hand, but you don't want to let go off the leash, not when the casual sound seems so comforting to him, and you manage. You don't touch these cuts, of course. Just examine them. Make sure they look alright. (They do. You always make sure that injuries are taken proper care of, whether he likes it or not.)

He gives a soft sigh when you pull your hand away from his arm, relieved, and you hadn't noticed the slight tension that had snuck back into his shoulders—only realize now that it leaves them again. It bothers you—you really miss having constant access to his biometric data.

"You are doing very well," you say, voice quiet and deliberately sincere, and perhaps he thinks you won't notice the way he bites his lower lip for a moment. Perhaps he hopes you do. Perhaps he doesn't mind either way.

(You do notice, of course you do. You tend to refrain from praising him precisely because you know how well he reacts to it, and because you are still unable to place this reaction entirely. You are not sure whether your praise shifts the whole thing into parameters you... have never actually discussed. This is a practical thing, first and foremost, and you would very much like to keep it that way. (But he is, of course. He is doing very well.))

You tear your eyes away from the cuts on his arm and let them wander up his body again, paying attention to all of the scars once more as if you weren't able to name their exact placement even without looking.

You stop at his face. He looks... peaceful.

(He has freckles. You notice every time.)

((You have ignored them, until now. They are not part of the particular map you are reading during this.))

(((Only that they are, of course, like a map, too. Bursts of them on his nose, a few stray on his left cheek, far more on his right. Like a star map, you think. Like an entire solar system painted onto his face.)))

You lift your free hand and place it against his cheek. If you wanted, you could use your fingers to find and draw constellations, you could, in theory, spend half an hour coming up with names for them. He would let you.

You won't.

He looks surprised for a moment, even with the blindfold on. Body tense, but not in a way that worries you or makes you think that it's too much.

A second passes, another one, and then he turns his head to press his cheek into your palm. You, too, hesitate. Stay like this, frozen for a moment, before you slowly move your thumb to brush it over his lips.

You don't know why you thought of doing it, or what exactly you had expected in return. (You didn't think much at all, is the only logical explanation.) You can hardly blame him for what must seem like the natural reaction—the pressure of his lips as he kisses your finger—but you immediately pull your hand away as if the simple gesture had burned you, anyway.

That was on you, really.

Too affectionate. That's not what you are doing here. That's not what this is for. This is calming. Grounding. Keeps him from doing dangerous, stupidly human things with sharp objects. Most of the time, anyway.

(Part of you wants to leave, just for a moment, just until the thought that he made the conscious decision to kiss you, part of you, feels less overwhelming, but that would, of course, be incredibly bad etiquette. (A yet smaller part of you is tempted to do it regardless. (You don't, naturally. You like clear rules, and you like sticking to them.)))

Instead you sit back and let go of the leash, clink-clink-clink. "I will keep you like this for another few minutes," you tell him, and he nods.

Both of you stay like this, then, quiet. Breathing. Both of you breathing. He's still very, very calm.

Good.

You let a little more than six minutes pass, until he starts shifting slightly, not uncomfortable, you think, so much as made restless by all the silence and the waiting, and then you reach for the blindfold.

"Alright?" you ask again, and he nods and exhales slowly as you pull it off. The cuffs follow, and then the collar.

This part—

"Let me look at your wrists." You grab them both, gently, rub your thumbs over them. The cuffs haven't even left any marks—you knew they must be alright, but

—well. It's less that you dislike this part. You're just not… all that good at it. It feels more like playing a role than the entire rest of it, and you are not exactly… well, you're not someone for cuddling. The thought is, in fact, absurd. You think you would be extremely uncomfortable with the concept.

(You can't be sure, though. Not without trying it. That wouldn't be very scientific; never testing this assumption. But you're not eager to test it.)

You do what you can without feeling clumsy, instead.

You have water for him, hand it to him, make sure he drinks. He does, and he lets you wrap the cuts on his arm, and neither of you speaks, because he seldom does, and because you wouldn't know what to say.

You ask him if he needs anything else, and he shakes his head. Lying on his back, covers pulled up to his chin. He blinks at you. Slowly—content and tired and like a cat and so fond of you, for some reason.

"...But can you—stay? Here? Until, just until I'm asleep?"

You slowly blink back,

(you didn't expect him to speak at all, today)

and nod. "Certainly, yes."

He gives a tiny, automatic smile in response before he closes his eyes, and you sit next to him, and you stay.

[worldwright]

WAIT WAIT. do plants literally need love to survive???? Tesla died so quickly in part because she was neglected in her needs as a person -- did the twins only survive because Rem showed them that there was a place they COULD survive? Did Tesla's body just go "there's no place for me here" and shut down? The dependent plants only survive because people care for them and tend to their needs. Are independents the same, just with different needs?

[youraveragecatastrophe]

We’ve talked in the past about Julia’s red shirt (in her season 1/season 4 outfit) showing her sympathy towards Carmen. What about other parts of her outfits?

First, to contrast with the red shirt peeking through her dark pantsuit, we have Julia’s ACME suit.

[ID : two cropped screenshots from the 2019 show Carmen Sandiego. The first one shows Julia Argent on the train in India, in her dark suit with red shirt outfit. The second one shows Julia in Rio de Janeiro, in her ACME suit. End ID]

The ACME suits, being uniforms, are all the same (the biggest difference being skirts for the women vs pants for the men), the same way the agents are asked for uniformity, conformity and following orders.

The suits have no color apart from a navy so dark it’s close to black - in fact, depending on the lighting they look almost black and white. Quite like their way of thinking.

[ID : a screenshot from the 2019 show Carmen Sandiego. Agent Zari and Random White Agent stand on either side of a door. They are in the shadows and their uniforms look dark and desaturated. End ID]

As I noted on a previous post, at the same time Julia receives her suit and as such lets go of her red shirt, she is asked to renounce her feelings that Carmen is innocent. Season 2, where she almost exclusively wears the ACME uniform, is the one where Julia briefly doubts Carmen and struggles to reconcile following her superior’s orders with her convictions. Ultimately, when she does not manage it, she resigns (season 3) and as such goes back to her red shirt outfit. It is in that outfit that she teams up with Carmen in a substantial way in season 4.

Other agents (and, notably, agent Zari, the most featured ACME agent apart from Julia and Chase) tend to wear black gloves. In line with their behavior, this suggests keeping a distance with their environment, refusing to feel things too deeply. Julia doesn’t wear gloves, however, not even in Stockholm where the weather would definitely justify it. Despite Chief's insistance, Julia keeps paying attention to her feelings.

Then, Julia’s glasses. Her glasses in seasons 2-3 are ACME regulation eyewear : once again, they’re part of the uniform, so the same model as the other ACME agents. Big, bulky, they’re almost rectangle in shape, all sharp angles : this suggests rigidity and an absence of flexibility in ACME’s mentality. Also note the dark lenses : they symbolically obscure the vision.

[ID : a screenshot from the 2019 show Carmen Sandiego. In Indonesia, Zari and Random White Agent stand against the sky. Their glasses' lenses are noticeably very dark. End ID]

And what about Julia’s original glasses, the ones she wears before joining ACME and those she returns to as she leaves ? They are the exact opposite of the ACME glasses : round and clear, what you need to look at the world as it is.

[ID : a cropped screenshot from the 2019 show Carmen Sandiego. In San Francisco, Julia wears her red shirt outfit with her round glasses. End ID]

[starcurtain]

Teyvat's "Most Down Bad" Award Goes to Alhaitham for a Second Year Running

Seeing everyone making fun of Alhaitham for his "stalkerish" tendencies in this event is funny, because I feel like a lot of people missed that "Be literally everywhere Kaveh is" has been Alhaitham's MO from the day Kaveh appeared in the game.

From only grabbing his house keys after Kaveh returned from the desert (he couldn't have had both sets of keys at the end of the Archon Quest unless he went home and got Kaveh's copy) to ditching conversations to get back to his house only after Kaveh came home, to showing up without any warning or explanation in Kaveh's hangout with some ridiculous excuse about hearing his voice through noise-cancelling headphones... Refusing to offer any help in the Temple of Silence story quest other than staying in the library with Kaveh...

Since when does Alhaitham willingly cover anyone else's duties?

But this trend of "Be everywhere Kaveh is" didn't start when they were adults. It was already in place when they were still Akademiya students--and it's a trend that didn't end even when they had their fight.

Even when they weren't speaking, Alhaitham dogged Kaveh's every step through published responses to Kaveh's research articles in academic journals. He insisted on keeping a line of communication between himself and Kaveh open, even if the only way to do that was through very public ideological clashes. Pulling Kaveh's pigtails to get his attention lolol. It's implied that, for at least the few years between their fight and Kaveh moving in, this was the only communication between them--Alhaitham's refusal to allow their connection to entirely fade away. (And the fact that this is revealed in Kaveh's character stories--through his precious journal that records the moments of his life that had the most impact on him--shows just how deeply he values the fact that Alhaitham didn't give up.)

Another relevant side note: Alhaitham never asked Kaveh to give up his half of their house. Knowing half of it belonged to Kaveh, knowing that Kaveh may one day want to reclaim his part of it, knowing that it was listed as theirs, Alhaitham moved into the house and made zero effort to change its ownership. He was completely fine with living in "his and Kaveh's house." The stories suggest it was only months later (or even longer) that Kaveh even noticed he had the house, and he transferred away ownership of his portion without Alhaitham ever asking him (or even seemingly wanting him) to do so.

Please, let that sink in. Alhaitham actively left his grandmother's (presumably comfortable) house to move into "his and Kaveh's house," with no apparent explanation for why, and after doing so, he made no attempt to change that "his and Kaveh's" label. He moved into the house with no promise that Kaveh wouldn't show up on the doorstep the very next day and move in too. It almost feels like another deliberate provocation--I've moved into our house, are you going to come stop me? LBR, if Alhaitham had had his way, Kaveh would have been living there with him from Day 1...

There's also the fact that Kaveh literally can't write on a single message board anywhere in the entire nation of Sumeru without Alhaitham hunting his messages down and responding to them (which absolutely no one else does, by the way).

"NUH-UH!" "UH-HUH." "NUH-UH!"

Alhaitham's own character stories tell us explicitly that one of Alhaitham's defining character traits is "He is never where you need him to be," yet somehow...

Shot, and chaser:

Any time Kaveh is in the slightest bit of need or danger or just wants Alhaitham near, Alhaitham is "coincidentally" exactly where Kaveh needs him to be, whenever Kaveh needs him to be there.

Alhaitham didn't just "happen" to run into Kaveh in Port Ormos, an entirely different city from where he was supposed to be working. He didn't just "happen" to read the same terrible book as Kaveh when we know he otherwise would not waste a moment of his time on poorly-written literature...

He didn't just "happen" to appear when Kaveh was upset and needed a distraction in the House of Daena during Kaveh's hangout. He didn't just "happen" to be sitting around waiting when Kaveh needed answers after the Archon Quest. He didn't just "happen" to find Kaveh's academic publications and every single message board posting and respond to them at length and in public.

The only person for whom Alhaitham just "happens" to be available is Kaveh, over and over and over again--because he is very deliberately making himself a constant presence in Kaveh's life.

Which is exactly what Kaveh's mother told Kaveh he needed.

(Like, out of all things, I think people really underestimate the devs deliberately paralleling the romantic relationship between Kaveh's mother and father with Kaveh and Alhaitham's relationship. If you want to point to one thing that says "These two characters are intentionally queer-coded," it doesn't get any more obvious than this.)

Alhaitham, are you not embarrassed to be this transparent??? 🫣

[annewithaneofthegreengable]

Instacrush

max verstappen x reader

Content warnings: unprotected sex (p-in-v), rough sex, dirty talk, language, daddy kink, pining, flirting, possessive behavior, one bed trope,...

Word count: almost 7k 

Note: I'm gonna add a smau at the end so keep reading!

My masterlist

The engagement ring on your finger suited you perfectly. It wasn’t overly large or flashy, but the single diamond gave off a subtle, delicate sparkle. It was beautiful and felt just right, symbolizing the love and unity of marriage. When you looked at it in the light, you almost thought you could feel the love Max had for you.

If only that were true.

“Remind me again why we’re doing this?” you asked, sitting down at the table across from Max.

“So we can practice and make sure we seem like a real couple,” he replied.

You sighed, your gaze once again drifting around the hotel room. There was a small sitting area, a dining space connected to a kitchenette, one bathroom, and a bedroom. You had already pointed out the single bed, and Max, ever the professional, reminded you that part of the assignment meant you were expected to share it. After all, this was a couple’s retreat. It wouldn’t have been a problem—if only you didn’t have a crush on him.

If only it were that simple.

You were completely enamoured with Max Verstappen, the handsome three-time F1 World Champion. Instacrush wasn't something you experienced often, so he took you by surprise. It was the first time you met him on your first day at work. You were so caught up looking around the paddock, so excited for your first time ever set foot in the land of speed. You were just an intern working in the social media department. Landing a job during the global economic recession was a dream come true for you, not to mention, working for such a big and top-tier team like Red Bull. And that’s where you bumped into him, his can of Red Bull splashed all over your new team uniform. And honestly, you didn’t remember much since you were busy looking staring at his eyes. The bluest eyes you have ever seen. It was like the water in the ocean in  Maldives that you once saw in some travel magazines. It was pathetic to fall for him so hard and quickly. It had to be some sort of karma or divine intervention that you were with him in a hotel room.

Just the two of you.

“You know,” he began, wetting his lips as he leaned back in his chair. You blinked, only because you didn't want him to call you out on staring. “You don't have to look so miserable to be here. Is my company that terrible?”

“What? No. Max, you aren't a terrible company,” you promised, slumping a bit in your chair. The last thing you wanted to do was upset him. “Just been a bit since I've been in a relationship and I’m kind of rusty,” you said. 

“I’m just not sure I’m the right one for this job,” you added.

“You’re perfect for this job. Why would you think otherwise?”

You froze like a deer in headlights, even as his compliment warmed your heart. It meant a lot that he thought you would do the job well. But how were you supposed to answer that question? That you adored him and it would be torture to pretend to be with him for a few months just to back to being coworkers after?

“We should practice,” you suggested instead of giving him an answer. The backstory wasn't overly elaborate, but you had to get it right.

He leaned forward, forcing you to meet his gaze. “Did someone say something to make you think you wouldn't be good for this assignment?” He asked in a low voice. “Because I'll straighten them out.”

You bit the inside of your cheek to keep yourself from whimpering. The thought of him putting someone in their place to make you feel better was swoon-worthy. “No, Max. No one said anything. You're right. I’m good for this,” you said before you added, “We’re good together.”

You couldn't read the look he gave you and it became more difficult not to squirm under his gaze. “Yeah,” he whispered, leaning back and clearing his throat. “So. We’re engaged. Going to a resort for a much-needed vacation. We’ll have to mingle with some of the guests in between investigating the owner. One of the first questions will be how we met.”

With an exhale, you recited, “We met at the track. Both slammed into each other. Both said sorry at the same time”

“And you gave me your hands for me to get up,” you smiled, making a show out of reaching for the glass on the table. “Our fingers touched first. Our eyes met second.”

“And we immediately befriended at first,” he smiled.

Your heart swelled. He looked like he didn’t have a care in the world when he smiled like that. “We did,” you said, trying to blink the longing from your eyes. “We went on that reserved dinner with the team and talked a bit about ourselves.” 

It was all the truth, except for the fact that you guys were never more than friends since he was with Kelly, and you. Well, you were just you, there’s nothing really special about you for him to like. You aren’t those supermodels he used to date, nor have the skinniest body type, you are chubbier, with red hair and freckles across your cheeks. Before accepting his request to be in a PR relationship with him just so he gets along with the image of not being a notorious playboy who drives a fast car as an occupation, you did ask him WHY YOU? WHY NOT SOME OTHER GIRLS? AND LET’S BE HONEST ANY OTHER GIRLS WHO ARE PRETTIER WOULD DIE TO FILL IN THE JOB, SO WHY YOU? He just stood there looking at you once again with the deepest set of blue eyes that made your knees go weak, We are friends so this is what a friend should do, right? Help each other out. And y/n I really need your helping hands now. 

“Even proposed to you at the same restaurant,” he said, gesturing to your left hand. “But I actually got the ring after our first date because I knew I wanted you to be my girl,” he said with such conviction that you found it hard to breathe.

The way his eyes softened as he gazed at you, you found yourself believing him for a moment. You had to stay rooted in realism though. The point of the mission besides the actual mission was to act as if you two were crazy about each other.

Not that you had to do any acting on your part.

You cleared your throat and pulled your hand back from the glass. “If only that were true,” you said, absentmindedly twisting the ring around your finger. You weren't cynical about love, but this whole thing was a reminder that you were single and alone. 

The silence between you two was deafening, filled only by the sound of your own heart breaking. You longed for his words to be true, for him to truly want you as his girlfriend. But deep down, you knew it was all pretend. Your fingers fidgeted with the ring again, a constant reminder of the lie you were living. The weight of the situation was almost unbearable. 

His brows furrowed. “What do you mean?”

Heat crept up your neck. You shouldn't have said anything. “I mean, what a briliant story you have in mind,” you replied to avoid saying you wanted to be his girl.

“Well, it was true, y/n.” 

You pulled yourself from your thoughts when he said your name, which sounded like it melted on his tongue. It made you press your thighs together. You needed to stay professional. 

“Most of it only, Max. Anyway, enough of that. Let’s move on,”

Max looked unsatisfied with your response, his blue eyes searching your face. He could tell you were deflecting, which was both attractive and frustrating. “Okay then. How about we move on to the next part of our relationship? The first date.” He leaned back in his chair and you mimicked his movement. 

“Ah, our first date,” you said, the memory bringing a smile to your face. “It was a classic dinner-and-a-movie type date, right?”

Max chuckled at your summation of your first date. “Yeah, it was pretty basic, but it was our first date,” he said, his voice low. “I wanted to keep things simple and focus on just the two of us. No fancy restaurants or anything like that.”

You recalled how nervous you were leading up to the date, spending hours trying to figure out what to wear and worrying about what to say. In hindsight, you didn’t need to have been so worried.

“But you looked beautiful that night,” Max continued, a small smile playing on his lips. “You always do.”

You tried to ignore the way your heart quickened at his compliment. How was it that Max Verstappen, F1 World Champion, and certified heartthrob, could say something so casually that made you feel like the most beautiful woman alive? 

“Thanks, Max,” you said, your cheeks starting to heat up. You twisted the ring on your finger, your nervous habit making its appearance. “You looked pretty good yourself, if I remember correctly.”

Max chuckled softly, his eyes fixated on your hand. “Are you nervous, Schatje?” he teased, a playful sparkle in his blue eyes. “You’re fiddling with your ring again.”

Your cheeks flushed even more. You should be used to his teasing by now, especially after the time you two had spent together recently while preparing for this PR mission. And yet, every time he called you darling, your heart would do somersaults in your chest. 

“No, I’m not,” you denied, knowing how unconvincing you sounded. “Just… practicing my part, you know. For the acting thing.”

Max’s eyes darkened slightly as he leaned back in his chair, his fingers drumming on the armrest. He knew that you were avoiding something, but he didn’t push further. Instead, he nodded in agreement. “Yeah, let’s keep going.”

He began to recite the next bit of their cover story. “What’s our favorite couple activity?”

You cleared your throat, trying to ignore the way your heart skipped a beat at the mention of couple activity. "Well," you began, your voice shaky, "our favorite couple activity is definitely cooking together. It's a great way for us to bond and spend quality time together." 

“Well it must be you will be the chef and I’m your assistant then, since I couldn’t even boil an egg to save my life, Liefje.”

Max's self-deprecating comment took you a little by surprise. You were used to seeing him as the confident, world-class athlete on the track, not as a hopeless cook in the kitchen.

You chuckled softly at his admission. "Well, I guess you'll have to stick to being my sous-chef then. I can teach you a thing or two in the kitchen."

Max groaned exaggeratedly. "I suppose I'll have to stick to fetching the ingredients and looking pretty," he joked.

You rolled your eyes playfully at his remark, unable to stop yourself from smiling. "Yes, you can be the pretty one, Max. I'll do all the hard work in the kitchen."

He chuckled, a lopsided smile pulling at his lips. "Well, I guess I should be thankful that I have a gorgeous girl doing all the cooking for me, then."

His compliment left you feeling warm and tingly, but you tried to brush it off and stay focused on the task at hand.

"But you have to promise me one thing, Max," you insisted, trying to maintain your composure. He raised an eyebrow, waiting for your condition. "What's that, Schatje?" he asked, his voice low and smooth.

You leaned forward a bit, your eyes meeting his. "You have to be my personal taste tester. Gotta make sure everything is just right."

Max chuckled at your condition, a smirk playing at his lips. "Ah, so I'm not only your sous-chef, but I also get the privilege of being your taste-tester?" he teased.

You nodded, a sly smile of your own on your lips. "That's right. You'll be my human guinea pig. No complaining, just eating." Max groaned dramatically, pretending to look disappointed.

Despite his initial reluctance, Max couldn't help but smile at your cheeky request. "Okay, okay, I'll be your taste-tester on one condition," he countered.

Your curiosity piqued, you asked, "And what's that?"

Max leaned forward, his eyes meeting yours, "You have to give me one of your special desserts afterward."

You laughed, surprised at his audacity. "Oh, now you're pushing it, Verstappen," you quipped. "But I suppose I can throw in a dessert for you, as a token of my appreciation for your taste-testing services."

Max leaned back in his chair, a satisfied smile on his face. "Deal," he said, a playful grin on his face. "Let's hope your cooking skills are as good as your baking, Liefje."

“Why don't you have a boyfriend?” He asked suddenly.

The switch in topic jarred you. “That’s. I’m. What? How is that relevant?”

It wasn't smooth, but it was better than blurting out that your hopeless crush on him was one of the major factors.

“I’m curious,” he shrugged.

You swallowed hard, unsure of how to answer. Truth be told, your life was dominated by work, leaving little time for relationships. But if you explained that to Max, he'd probably just call you a workaholic and laugh. He was the epitome of work hard, play just as hard.

"I don't know," you finally said, trying to sound casual. "I guess I just haven't found the right person."

Max scrutinized you but didn't press the topic further. Instead, he took a sip of his water, his eyes never leaving your face. Max wasn't buying your nonchalant attitude. He leaned back in his chair, still watching you closely. "I don't believe you. You're a beautiful woman, and yet you're single."

The compliment caught you off guard. Coming from Max Verstappen, the three-time FIA Formula One World Champion, it was a lot to take in. Trying to keep your cool, you retorted, "You don't have to flatter me, Max. I know I'm not some supermodel or something."

Max's lips curled up into a sly smile. He leaned even closer, his eyes sparkling with mischief. "Who said anything about comparing you to a supermodel?" he teased.

You felt your heart skip a beat at his proximity. He was even more attractive up close, with his sharp features and those intense blue eyes. Despite your best attempts to keep your cool, you found yourself blushing again.

"Come on, Schatje," Max said, his voice dropping an octave. "Just tell me why you don't have a boyfriend."

The intensity in Max's eyes was almost overwhelming. You fidgeted nervously in your seat, feeling increasingly flustered under his gaze. Why was he so insistent on this topic? You tried to come up with a witty retort, a clever way to deflect, but your mind was drawing a blank. His intense gaze made it hard to think straight. "It's not a big deal, Max," you finally managed to say, your voice betraying your growing nervousness.

"Bullshit." He leaned back in his chair, studying you once again. "You're avoiding the question. There must be a reason why you don't have a boyfriend."

Max's persistence made you feel inexplicably flustered. He was so adamant about knowing the reason behind your single status. You wracked your brain, trying to come up with a convincing answer that wouldn't give away your secret. But the more you fidgeted and avoided his gaze, the more he seemed to be onto you. "Come on, y/n,” he coaxed again, leaning forward and bracing his elbows on his legs. "Just give me a straight answer."

Max's smirk widened as he saw the effect he was having on you. He could tell he was making you nervous, and that only made him more determined to get the answer he wanted. "You're making this even more suspicious, you know," he said, his voice laced with gentle mockery. "The more you avoid the question, the more interested I become."

There was something about the way Max said that that sent a shiver down your spine. Was he just teasing you, or was there a hint of genuine interest in his voice? It was hard to tell. "You're relentless, you know that?" you mumbled, trying to cover your nerves with sarcasm.

Max chuckled, clearly enjoying how much he was getting under your skin. "I can be very persistent when I want something."

Max's admission sent a flutter through your stomach. He was relentless in his pursuit of an answer, and it was both frustrating and exhilarating. You fidgeted in your seat, trying to ignore the butterflies in your stomach. "And you always get what you want, don't you?" you retorted, aiming for a tone of sarcasm.

Max chuckled at your attempt at sarcasm. He seemed unfazed as he leaned back in his chair, his gaze still fixated on you. "I do, usually," he agreed. "But you're proving to be quite the challenge, y/n."

He took in your flushed cheeks and shifting eyes, a small smile playing on his lips.

Max's gaze seemed to pierce through you, reading your every reaction. "You're blushing like a schoolgirl, Schatje," he teased, his eyes sparkling with mischief.

His observant nature was both impressive and irritating. You tried to compose yourself, to appear unfazed by his words. But the more he teased, the more flustered you became.

The sound of your phone ringing snapped you both out of whatever spell you two were under. “Shit,”  you muttered, “It’s Christian. I better-”

“Yeah, you should answer that,” he said, “I think I'm going to call it a night. It was simply lovely to have such a conversation with you, Lief”

You watched as Max stood from the table, a smirk still tugging at his lips as he stretched his arms over his head. The way his shirt pulled tight against his muscles didn’t escape your notice, but you quickly turned your focus to your phone. Christian’s name flashed on the screen, a reminder that despite the playful teasing and lingering tension, you were still on assignment.

Clearing your throat, you answered the call, doing your best to sound professional. “Hey, Christian. What’s up?”

Max lingered by the doorway to the bedroom, his blue eyes still watching you as he leaned casually against the frame. The man was frustratingly calm and composed, as if he hadn’t just spent the last several minutes flustering you beyond belief.

“Just checking in. Wanted to make sure everything’s running smoothly with you and Max,” Christian’s voice came through the speaker.

“Yeah, everything’s fine,” you replied, glancing at Max again. He raised an eyebrow, clearly hearing the conversation. “We’re just going over the cover story. Making sure we’re on the same page for tomorrow.”

“Good, good. Remember, we need you two to look convincing as a couple. This retreat is high-profile, and we can’t afford any slip-ups. Play the part, but don’t overdo it,” Christian said.

You nodded, even though he couldn’t see you. “Got it. We’ll be convincing.”

After exchanging a few more pleasantries, you ended the call and set your phone down, releasing a breath you hadn’t realized you were holding. Max was still standing in the doorway, his gaze soft but unreadable.

“You okay?” he asked, his voice quieter now, almost concerned.

“Yeah,” you replied, though your heart still raced from the earlier tension. “Just… trying to make sure I don’t mess this up.”

Max pushed himself off the doorframe and took a few steps closer to you. “You won’t. You’re doing great, Schatje. Better than I expected, actually.”

The compliment caught you off guard, and for a moment, you let yourself believe that maybe—just maybe—there was more behind his words than simple encouragement. But you couldn’t afford to let your hopes get the better of you. This was a job. Nothing more.

“Well, I guess I should get some sleep too,” you said, standing up from the table. “Big day tomorrow.” Max nodded, his eyes flicking briefly to the bed in the other room. “Right. About the bed…”

You froze, realizing that you had been so caught up in the conversation earlier that you hadn’t given the sleeping arrangement much thought. But now, with the two of you standing there in a hotel room alone, the reality of sharing a bed with Max Verstappen hit you like a freight train.

“I can take the couch,” he offered quickly, sensing your hesitation.

“No, Max. It’s fine. We’re supposed to be a couple, right? Couples share beds.” You tried to sound confident, but your voice wavered slightly.

Max’s lips quirked into a small smile. “True. But I don’t want to make you uncomfortable.”

You shook your head, summoning what little courage you had left. “I’ll be fine. It’s just sleeping. No big deal.”

Max didn’t argue, but there was a flicker of something in his eyes—something unreadable. He gestured towards the bedroom. “Ladies first.”

You swallowed hard and walked towards the bed, trying to ignore the butterflies in your stomach. Max followed close behind, and as you both climbed into the bed, the space between you felt like an ocean. You were hyper-aware of every movement, every breath.

Max lay on his back, one arm resting behind his head, while you kept to your side, facing away from him. The silence was thick, the air filled with unspoken thoughts.

“Goodnight, y/n,” he said softly, his voice barely above a whisper.

“Goodnight, Max,” you replied, your voice tight with nerves.

You squeezed your eyes shut, willing yourself to fall asleep. But the warmth of Max’s body next to you, the steady rhythm of his breathing—it was all too distracting. You tried to push the thoughts away, reminding yourself that this was all pretend. That Max Verstappen didn’t see you as anything more than a colleague helping him out.

But as the minutes ticked by, sleep continued to evade you, and you couldn’t help but wonder—what if?

What if this wasn’t just pretend? What if Max felt the same pull, the same unspoken connection that you did? What if, somewhere in the midst of this fake relationship, something real was beginning to bloom?

You shook your head at the thought, frustrated with yourself for even entertaining such a ridiculous idea. Max was a superstar, a world champion, and you were just… you.

But as you lay there, feeling the gentle rise and fall of his breathing beside you, it was hard to ignore the tiny spark of hope flickering in your chest.

Maybe—just maybe—there was more to this story than either of you realized.

You shifted slightly in bed, careful not to disturb Max, who was still lying quietly beside you. You glanced over at him, only to find that his eyes were open, staring at the ceiling.

"Can't sleep?" he asked quietly, turning his head to look at you.

You shook your head, suddenly feeling vulnerable under his gaze. "Too much on my mind, I guess."

Max smiled faintly. "Same here."

There was a brief silence between you, and in the quiet of the night, it felt like the weight of unspoken words was suffocating. You wanted to ask him if this was all just a game to him, if he felt the same tension you did, but you were too afraid of the answer.

Instead, you settled for something safer. "Do you ever get tired of it? The pressure, the constant spotlight?"

Max turned his head fully towards you, his expression thoughtful. "Sometimes. It’s part of the job, though. I’ve learned to live with it. But yeah, there are days when it gets overwhelming."

You nodded, understanding the weight of his words. "I get that. It’s hard to find balance when the whole world is watching."

Max's eyes softened, and for a moment, it felt like the walls between you two were crumbling. "Yeah. But it’s not all bad, you know? There are people who make it easier."

You looked at him, your heart fluttering at the implication of his words. Was he talking about you? Or was this just part of his charm?

Before you could respond, Max shifted closer, closing the small gap between you. His proximity made your heart race, and you held your breath as he reached out, brushing a strand of hair away from your face.

"You make it easier, y/n," he whispered, his voice low and sincere.

Your heart skipped a beat, and for a moment, the world seemed to stop. There was no more pretending, no more acting for the sake of the mission. It was just the two of you, lying in the dark, and suddenly, it felt like everything you had been holding back was on the verge of spilling over.

"Max," you whispered, your voice trembling as you struggled to find the right words.

But before you could say anything more, Max leaned in, his lips brushing softly against yours. You imagined Max kissing you before, but didn’t think it would ever be so soft. His lips barely brushed against yours, but it felt like the beginning of something more. It tempted you like nothing else ever had. He must’ve felt it, too, since he deepened it. You melted. You surrendered. You never really stood a chance before him. 

“So, you like me? Was that why you kissed me, or, ” You asked when he pulled back a little to gaze at you. “I’m sorry. I just need to hear you say it because I really like you and have for months. Fuck, maybe I shouldn’t have said that because we have a whole acting and pretending thing ahead and now you know and I don't want it to be weird.”

Your mind almost shut down when he gave you a full-blown smile and said, “Yeah, I like you. I thought it was obvious. I tried dropping little hints, talking about your smile and teasing you.” He said. “You know Kelly dumped me because I remembered your coffee order when we were at the hospitality not hers,”

You stared at Max in shock, your heart thudding loudly in your chest. Kelly dumped him over... you?

"You remembered my coffee order?" you asked, your voice barely above a whisper.

Max chuckled softly, his thumb gently brushing over your cheek as he held your gaze. "Yeah," he replied. "Every single time. It wasn't something I planned to memorize, but I guess I couldn't help it. You’ve always been in the back of my mind, even when I didn’t realize it." You blinked, overwhelmed by the sudden flood of emotions. All the late-night conversations, the teasing, the moments when his touch lingered a little longer than necessary—it all clicked into place. He wasn’t just playing a part. He liked you. Max liked you.

"You really are an idiot," you said with a breathy laugh, feeling lighter than you had in weeks. The tension between you two, the unspoken feelings, had been weighing on you for so long, but now everything felt so clear.

Max grinned, his face inches from yours. "Takes one to know one," he teased, his lips brushing against yours again.

You leaned into him, your hands finding their way to his chest, fingers curling into the fabric of his shirt as you kissed him back. This time it wasn’t tentative or cautious. It was everything you had been holding back, all the feelings you had suppressed because you thought it was just part of the job, part of the act.

But this was real. You were real.

When you finally pulled back, you were both breathless. Max’s forehead rested against yours, and you could feel the steady rhythm of his heartbeat under your hands.

"Guess we’re going to have to make this mission even more believable now, huh?" Max murmured, his voice filled with that same teasing warmth.

You smiled, biting your lip as you looked up at him. "We might have to practice a little more, just to make sure we’re convincing enough."

Max laughed, a sound that sent warmth coursing through your veins. "I think we can manage that." 

A moment passed before you giggled, happiness blooming in your chest. Max Verstappen liked you. Wanted you. “Please do,” you breathed, pulling him back down for another kiss.

He groaned, ravaging your mouth as he moved on top of you. His knee pushed your legs apart so he could settle between them, swallowing down your whimpers when he pressed his growing hardness against your pussy. He ground his hips, your panties soaked as his tongue tangled with yours. The man kissed you like he had something to prove.

Like he wanted to own you.

His muscles rippled as he leaned up and grasped the bottom of your nightie. The vision of him above you like this was now engraved in your mind. “If you want me to stop, I will.”

Sleeping with him was moving fast considering you just confessed your feelings for each other, but you didn't care. “Don't stop,” you whispered, quivering as he tugged the fabric over your head.

Your hands moved up to cover your chest before he gripped your wrists. “Are you trying to hide from me?” He questioned, his smirk playful in comparison to the uncertainty in his gaze.

You didn't want him doubting himself or your want for him for a second.

“Maybe? I mean, look at you and look at…”

You wouldn't knock on your looks since you were generally confident in your appearance, but the driver was an entirely different level of gorgeous. “Don't,” he whispered, releasing a wrist so he could cup your breast. You arched your back and any uncertainty in his eyes before faded when a moan escaped your lips. “You're so fucking beautiful.”

The praise almost made your eyes water as he brought his head down, losing focus when he swept his tongue across your nipple. Your eyes fluttered shut as he did it again, a wave from a sea of ecstasy crashing over you. Your heart thudded faster, addicted to the feel of his sinful mouth, suckling gently as his hands continued to explore. You writhed beneath him, your fingers tangling in his hair to pull him closer. "Please,"

He chuckled, the vibration making your breast hum in his mouth. "Please what, baby?" He asked, his free hand moving to your other breast, pinching the nipple gently. You whimpered, your hips bucking against the floor. "Please touch me, please kiss me, please fuck me,"

“You are such a needy baby,”

"His hands slid down your sides, gripping your thighs and spreading them apart. He settled between them, his breath hot against your core. "You want me to touch you here?" He asked, his fingers gently caressing your folds through your underwear."

“You’re the reason I don't have a boyfriend,” you whined, your fingers twisting in his hair. Why did you say that?

He paused, lifting his head to look at you with a mix of confusion and realization. "Because of me?" He asked softly. "Because I'm always around, and no one else can compare?" He slid a finger underneath the fabric, touching you for the first time.

His finger traced your slit, gathering your wetness before pushing inside gently. You let out a sigh of relief, your hips tilting to meet his finger. "Is that it? Is that why you don't have a boyfriend?" He asked, curling his finger inside you, rubbing your g-spot. 

“Y-yes… It's you, has always been you, Max.” you gasped.

He added another finger, pumping in and out of you slowly. His voice was low, filled with a dominance you'd never heard from him before. "So, every time you went on a date, every time they kissed you, it was me you thought of?” 

His fingers moved faster, curling and rubbing against your g-spot. "And every time they tried to touch you, hold your hand, it was my hand you wished was there instead?" He asked, his thumb rubbing your clit in circles. "Is that it, baby?”

But what can you say more besides moaning at his touch. 

He grinned wolfishly, his eyes locked onto yours. "You can't speak because you're so turned on, thinking about me instead of them. Isn't that right?" His fingers continued to pump in and out of you, his thumb pressing circles onto your swollen nub. "Say it.”

But you’re not thinking straight. You’re not thinking straight at all when all he did was teasing you like that.

He growled, his face hovering over your core. "Say it, or I'll stop." His fingers paused, buried deep inside you. You squirmed, your hips bucking, silently begging him to continue. "Say it," he repeated, his voice low and dangerous.

“Max” you breathed, clenching your legs together.

He tsked disapprovingly, prying your legs apart with his broad shoulders. "Not until you say what I want to hear." His golden eyes bore into yours, filled with desire and determination. "Say, 'Only you, Max. Only you.'" His fingers remained motionless. 

“Jus’ need you. Need you to make it better. ‘M yours Daddy, only yours.” 

His expression softened, and he rewarded you by moving his fingers again, crooking them inside you. "Good girl," he praised, his voice gentle. "Now, wrap your legs around my shoulders. I'm going to make you come with my mouth.”

You eagerly wrapped your legs around his shoulders, locking your ankles behind his neck. He lowered his face between your thighs, his breath hot against your wet flesh. "You're so ready for me, baby," he murmured, his thumbs spreading you open. "So swollen and needy.”

And without further teasing, he pressed his lips to your clit and sucked. Hard. His fingers curled inside you again, hitting that perfect spot. You gasped, your back arching off the bed as wave after wave of pleasure washed over you. "Oh god oh god oh god,"

Max smiled around the soft pearl in his mouth and flicked it gently with the tip of his tongue. "Feel good, baby?" he breathed. His head tilted up to you, and he could see you were struggling just to breathe, face painted with a medley of emotions. You didn't know if you could, or should, be feeling this good from a man so evil. Max flattened his tongue and licked a long stripe up your pussy to ensure that you would. Then he posed the question again, smirking. "You like my tongue on this wet, needy cunt?" His words were so damn obscene, but you nodded anyway. Feeling small and powerless beneath those big, broad hands as they pinned you back on the sheets and spread you even wider for the taking.

He loved how innocent and lewd you looked at once, wincing with pleasure and still trying to keep your composure like you thought a good girl should.

And, just as your breaths were starting to hitch and grow more ragged in your chest, he pushed two fingers inside.

The act surprised your lover almost as much as it did you-not quite, but almost -upon feeling how tight you were, how resistant to even two digits you seemed to be. He hardly knew whether to shove them deeper or pull them out, so fast did your muscles contract around him. When you whined a loud, protracted, 'FUCK!' he figured he would stick with the former. He grinned, having never heard you speak, much less swear, out of pleasure like this. Your head lolled back and your body made an arch when his fingers curled inside you. You were panting, moaning, coating his hand with your juices, and Max knew you were close. He started pumping his fingers in and out while his tongue worked your clit, chin practically doused in your arousal by now. A swell of pride rose within him: he could finally bring you home to that sweet release, have you a shaking, soaking mess above his face like you were wholly his and no one else's. He moved his tongue even faster and sank his fingers straight down to the knuckle.

 "Come on my face, Liefde. Show me what a good girl you are.”

And suddenly you were coming undone all over him—crying his name, clawing his skin, squeezing your legs so tight around his head you feared you might snap it in two.

He slowly licked you clean, his gaze never leaving yours. "You taste even better than you look," he murmured, a slow smirk spreading across his face. He leaned in close, pressing his forehead to yours. "And you look... like a masterpiece.

You took his face in closer and sucked your arousal off his tongue. Took him by surprise and dragged a mindless, lazy, half-crazed and careless tongue all over his, where your juices had no doubt collected too. That slutty, fucked-out look you gave him—like your brain had all but fallen out of your head with the orgasm he’d given you—was everything Max could’ve wanted.

Max's eyes widened in surprise as you sucked his face clean, his hands instinctively coming up to hold your head in place. He groaned into your mouth, his own arousal spiking at the filthy, careless way you were using your tongue.

He deepened the kiss, his tongue plunging into your mouth to explore and taste every inch of it. His hands slid down to your waist, pulling you even closer against him, letting you feel the hard length of his cock pressed up against you.

“I need to fuck you now,” he said.

His voice was rough with desire, his patience worn thin. He reached between your legs, grabbing your thigh and tossing your leg over his shoulder. He positioned himself at your entrance, the head of his cock pressing against your soaked folds. "Hold on, Schatje,"

He slammed into you with no warning, burying his cock deep inside your pussy in one brutal thrust. You cried out in surprise and pleasure, your walls clenching around him as he fills you completely. He grabbed your other thigh, holding you in place as he started pounding into you with ruthless intensity.

“Feel a little stretch down there, huh?”

You didn’t have to say anything, just whimpering in time. Max kissed your forehead and let you fold into him as his dick wreaked havoc down below. He kissed you again, and again, and in between kisses, mumbled,

“That’s daddy’s sweet, needy little slut.”

“My perfect fucking Schatje, so good at taking my cock.”

Every syllable spoken aloud was like a brand new catalyst for your impending release. You barely nodded your head, opened your mouth and whined pathetically, but that’s exactly how Max wanted you.

"Shit, you were made for this, weren't you baby? Made to take my load." He's so lost in the way you whine, telling him he's right and he knows it when he feels the way your body clenches and flutters around him.

He pistons his hips, fucking you with abandon, his balls slapping against your ass with each brutal thrust. He reaches up to grab your breast, squeezing it roughly as he snarls in your ear. "Gonna fill this fucking pussy up with my cum, mark you as mine.”

His grip on your thighs tightened as he continued to pound into you, the sound of flesh slapping against flesh filling the room. "Not till I say so, baby. You gonna wait for me, aren't you?" He grunted, his own release barreling down on him. 

“Daddy, faster, please, harder, feels so good!” You were practically sobbing, loving the way he was splitting you open.

“I'm Gonna cum, daddy! Can I cum?” Max practically growls, not missing a beat while still thrusting in you.

He grunted approvingly at your desperate pleas, his face contorting with effort as he held back his own release. "Not... till... I... say... so..." He punctuated each word with a powerful thrust, his voice harsh with command. "Look at me, baby. Look at me when you beg."

You preened, the walls of your pussy clenching around his length. “Please, daddy.” 

“Jesus, you’re making me so wet. You’re such a little whore for me.”

“I’m your whore. Always, daddy, please!”

His face contorted with pleasure as you finally gave him what he wanted. "Good girl," he hissed, his pace becoming frenzied as he finally let himself go. "You're gonna take it all, aren't you? Gonna take every last drop?" 

“Yes!!” You sob, biting down onto his shoulder to keep your cries down while he continues to fuck you into oblivion. You don't understand how such filth can spew from that pink, pouty little mouth of his. "Please-please-need-you-daddy-I'm gonna-" 

“ I’m 'yours sweet girl, all yours, go on, cum for me love, cum on my cock, it's all yours" He gazed into your eyes, cooing at your parted lips and sweat slicked skin. It didn't take long for you to shatter around him his lips smashing against yours to swallow your moans.

"Want your cum daddy" You beg , desperate to have him claim you from the inside.

"Oh fuck baby, y-you can't say that, gonna, oh fuckkk" Your words throw Max right off the edge as he lets out a deep groan stilling his hips and shooting endless ropes of his spend into you. You both lay in comfortable silence, your fingers playing with his hair now disheveled. 

“Do you mean it? After this is all over?” Anything could happen. Perhaps this was just to keep his bed warm. Something to keep him calm, you were just someone to-

"Of course Liefje" Max presses a firm kiss to your forehead, silencing the thoughts that tried to run wild. "You're mine"

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yourusername first day at work, welcome to the playground - newbie.

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user1 what a dream job 😭

user2 I wanna be there toooooo 😭

urfriend my baby's dream finally came true

yourusername wish me luck bestie

user4 what is your job?

yourusername i'm the new intern in social media for RBR

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maxverstappen1 this new (intern) social media manager has me doing all sorts of weird things, apparently the fans like me doing this…I’m yet to be convinced 😂 might need a long nap after this.

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username12 fyi we absolutely love photos like these 😂

landonorris I nearly fell off my chair laughing after scrolling through this post 😂😂😂

username13 thank you the new intern for convincing max to bless us with a world of meme worthy content, i beg for more

username14 he has no idea how much we love seeing this side of him does he???

username15 pls promote ur new intern to be ur lifelong admin @/redbullracing

redbullracing let me ask my boss first ferrari we still have open position for the new intern, wanna join? redbullracing back off mercedesamgf1 or u can work for us instead, why be an intern when u can be our new admin for a very demure, very mindfull team! username16 are they battling for the new intern 😂 username17 on track and offtrack battle

liked by maxverstappen1, redbullracing and 26,882 others

yourusername life lately as the new intern at @/redbullracing

view all 2,728 comments

username18 so u r the new intern that blessed us with so much max's meme

yourusername no need to tks me 🤗 username18 u r so pretty, might be my new wife

username19 oooooh max's in the like

username20 aww so cute

username3 the outfits slay

landonorris uhhh 

username21 WHAT ARE YOU EOING HERE maxverstappen1 she's not on ur team, mate landonorris so i can not say hello to her ???

yourbff you are so effortlessly gorgeous please 😫 and whose hand is that wifey

username22 wtf is max and lando beefing in the comment

username23 shut the f up she's a swiftie OMG i need a challenge with max and checo with taylor

yourusername working on it, but these two know nothing 'bout the pop culture 😭 username24 OMG the devil works hard but u gotta work harder girl

liked by maxverstappen1, redbullracing, yourusername and 1,826,882 others

redbullracing Taylor Swift 1 - 0 Chestappen

view all 550,128 comments

maxverstappen1 do not shame ur drivers publicly like that

redbullracing we do not 🤗 landonorris how can they not know about THE TAYLOR georgerussell63 i would have won this charlesleclerc if the ferrari's challenge could be this easy

username30 they cant even score a point

username31 OMG Chestappen

liked by 826,882 others

f1wags new wag alert!!! This might be the new gf of Max and she also works for Red Bull too

username32 OMG is she y/n the old intern now admin

f1wags that's her

username33 i follow her too and she is soooooooo pretty

username34 her new ideas for all their challenges are cool too

username1 😒😒

username2 BOOOO👎

username3 so it’s official then huh?

username13 BODY IS TEAA

username24 HOLYYY

liked by yourusername, danielricciardo, charlesleclerc, redbullracing, and 3,344,234 others

maxverstappen1 i think this called hard launch and yes this is my new gf @/yourusername took all the pics since she thought i'm not very good at it

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[tofixtheshadows]

This is one of my favorite minor details in Dungeon Meshi, firstly because what in the femme fatale, but also because it's one of those little things that raises so many questions about worldbuilding.

The Occam's Razor defense attorney in me says that Ryoko Kui gave Kabru a boot knife because she wanted him to escape from his bonds here. And Kabru is a very competent swordsman, why wouldn't he have a boot knife, sure. He's already got a dagger, he can have this too.

And yet: the implications. Kabru, why do you have that? That is not remotely something that could be easily accessed or used in combat. Nobody is pulling out a pen knife from the heel of their boot during a fight with a monster. It's useless in the dungeon ... unless you're the type of person who isn't just worried about monsters.

I've mentioned this before, but I consider one of Kabru's functions in the narrative as being the character who fully brings the idea of human ecosystems into the story. There's a reason why he's always connected to large groups of people (Toshiro's party, the Canaries). He (along with Mr. Tansu, briefly) introduces the reader to the social and political forces working on the dungeon, showing us that none of this is happening in a monster-filled vacuum. His confrontation with the corpse retrievers, who very nearly kill Kabru's party permanently with their reckless murder-for-money scheme, reminds us that monsters are not the only things that prey on humans. Kabru understands the ways the dungeon causes people to put profit over human lives.

We only get hints of it in the story, but like any gold-rush-style economic boom, it's implied that there is a lot of crime and corruption surrounding the dungeon.

So yeah, it really makes me wonder why Kabru keeps a tiny knife in his boot, meant to be carried on him even in situations where he would otherwise be unarmed. Stored exactly in the place where it's easy to reach, even if, for some reason, your hands are tied behind your back.

[everythingspokenfor]

All characters are aged up 18+ MDNI

⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘

Bakugou doesn't care that you are making a mess on his pants, couldn't care any less about the messy white streaks you are leaving behind on the zipper of the navy suit.

Both of you knew at the end of the gala, you would be here, Bakugou buried inches deep in you while you clawed his back because your guts were being rearranged.

But you didn't expect that to be here, in Kirishima's office.

The event was cut unexpectedly short, as Bakugou dragged you to a spare room that also happened to be Kirishima's office.

You have already cum twice, cunt spasming around Bakugou's cock, as you look up at him, silently begging to slow down.

"s..sl..slow down..please..I came..just came.." you whimpered in his ear, praying he would listen and have mercy on you gooey cunt.

The thrusts stopped and he settled deep in you. The tip of his cock squished against your cervix, the both your cream collecting at the base of his cock. For a moment, you thought he was going to show you mercy, gonna spare your tight cunt and go easy on you.

But the glimmer in his eyes and the slight smirk on his face told you otherwise, he was going to be mean tonight. Bakugou pulled out of you, cock glistening with your cum, tip a deep red colour pressing against your swollen pussy.

Bakugou smeared his precum on your hard little clit, before fully pulling away, a thin string of slick connecting you both before it breaks.

Bakugou backs up to take a closer look at your state, you are a mess, skirt hiked up at your waist, gooey little pussy on display, breasts spilling from the top of your shirt. The site of your nipples almost peeking from the neckline making his dick throb. He turns you around, hand gentle as he guides you to lean against the wall.

"I'll go easy on ya' jus' wanna make sure the pussy is happy you know", He said while aligning his tip with your drippy hole.

Pushing in with a single thrust, giving you a moment to get used to his thick cock stretching your gummy walls again, his hand reached around you rub on your clit.

A weak whimper left your throat when he hissed,"Loosen up will ya' cunt is gripping me too tight, need ya to let my dick breath babe". He rubbed tight little circles on your clit and started thrusting. Making sure to hold your waist so you wouldn't fall.

"m' gonna cum, pl.. please it's there ... Please please" you babbled on, cunt spasming around him, you looked over his shoulder, silently begging him to not stop.

Bakugou's hand sped up and so did his thrusting, he could tell you were close. He felt you tense up as you came around him, pussy gushing as you shuddered and clawed at his arm.

Following you, Bakugou came in your gummy walls with a low grunt, few more thrusts and he relented his movement and pulled out.

"yer dripping, little cunt leaking all over the place" he said while gathering your cummy mixture and smearing it over your clit.

"no..no it's se.. sensitive please", you said as you pulled away his hand.

Bakugou gathered you in his arms and took you to the couch, laying you down he went to the attached bathroom to grab a washcloth and clean the mess between your legs.

He fixed your clothes and covered you with blanket. Before sitting beside you and running his fingers through your here.

He pulled out his phone to check what was going on at the gala only to be greeted with a message.

Shitty hair : Better clean the cum off my couch too Bakubro 😀💪🏼🧽🧼

⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘

[luveline]

that spencer x bombshell one you just posted has me giggling and kicking my feet I think I’m in love with YOU 🫵

Now I’m thinking of spencer x bombshell where the team starts to not view reid as unwillingly tortured by her flirting. Like maybe Morgan makes a comment to reid about something he does and is like “don’t torture the poor girl” and he’s like oh shit I’M the one torturing too now?

im in love with YOU !! for you, ty for requesting ♡ fem

“Difficult,” you say, resting your head on the table. 

“I know.” Spencer wiggles his pen back and forth between two fingers, thinking hard. This case is proving to be indecipherable. None of the details want to add up, and no clear profile geographical or otherwise appears. 

“Useless.” 

“Who, me or you?” 

“Us.” You sigh morosely. “Mostly me.” 

You're not being serious. Spencer huffs a soft laugh and continues to turn the details over in his head. You open your notebook and scratch down a couple of sentences with a pen, a visual thinker. Your mind map turns to a second iteration and then a third. You can't connect the dots because they're too far apart from each other; Spencer can't do it either. Not alone. 

He scoots his chair as close to yours as possible, your knees touching, his elbow in your side. “Can I look?” he asks. 

“Of course you can. Sorry about my handwriting.” 

He shakes his head. Your handwriting is perhaps the only thing about you he wouldn't say was one hundred percent perfect. You can't control it like other things. It is perfect, in a way, because it's yours, but you've been writing quickly and he struggles to make out the occasional letter. 

He leans in toward the page. “What's this word?” he asks. 

You lean in to see it. “Coruscated.” 

“The swimming pool?” he asks, lifting his face to yours. You're closer now, and beautiful like this. He can see the powder under your eyes, the lines in your irises, the slight fading of your lipstick at the corners of your mouth. There's an eyelash on your cheek. He lifts a hand to wipe it away. “What's so important about that?” 

“It reminded me of something…” You pause as he touches your face. “Something…” Your voice lilts up in question, half-shudder. 

“Eyelash,” he explains, blowing it off of his finger. 

“Right,” you say, eyes oddly wide and soft at once, your eyebrows lifted at the starts. 

“You okay?” 

“Is she okay? Reid, you're torturing the poor girl. Give her some air,” Morgan says with a chuckle. 

Spencer leans backwards in surprise, no idea what Morgan could possibly mean. Your eyes relax as you regain some personal space, your hands coming together loosely in your lap. You laugh weakly. 

Spencer looks you up and down. He's torturing you? That doesn't make sense. For as long as you've known one another, the team has joked that your flirty ways and feminine wiles are too much for Spencer to handle. You once gave him an apology he didn't want, worried you actually were hurting him by being your playful self, and he'd set that straight immediately. You don't torture him. It's a lot of feelings to be doted on so much by you, and painful isn't one of them. Overwhelming, sometimes, and exciting, sure. 

He never realised he had the power to overwhelm you. Not until that moment. You offer a funny smile far from your usual smirk and try to steamroll Morgan's claim. “Guess I should've made a wish.” 

“What would you wish for?” Spencer asks quietly. 

You still. Morgan shakes his head in disapproval, but he laughs again and stands up. “I think they'd call that a taste of your own medicine, sweetheart,” he says to you. 

You meet Spencer's eye. “I think they would,” you say bashfully. 

For three blissful seconds, Spencer enjoys the reality of having made you flustered. You, gorgeous, confident you, left flushed and a little daunted by his casual actions and simple (maybe slightly flirtatious) questioning. But then he remembers how much he likes you and pushes it away. 

“Sorry,” he says, plastering a smile over uncertain lips, “I didn't mean to do that.” 

“No, it's okay.” 

He turns to your notes, but gives you a look from the side. “I hope you wished for someone to solve the case. We're never getting anywhere like this.” 

“Are you saying you can't?” You rest your chin in your hand. “And here I thought you were more than a pretty face.” 

You have a quick recovery rate, evidently. 

[dazzlingjaeyun]

𝐚𝐧𝐠𝐞𝐥 - 𝐩𝐚𝐫𝐤 𝐬𝐮𝐧𝐠𝐡𝐨𝐨𝐧

bf!sunghoonx gf!reader (co-worker au!)

genre: smut, MDNI!

warnings: slightly jealous!hoon, marking, slight hair pulling, fingering, oral (f. receiving), cum eating, unprotected sex (wrap it up y'all), semi public sex? (in the office's storage room lol), cumming inside, overstimulation, sunghoon calls reader angel (duh) and good girl + lmk if i missed anything!!

word count: 1.9k

a/n: y'all remember when i said after party will be the first and last time i write smut? apparently, i lied

↝ dazzlingjaeyun's bookshelf

mature content under cut, minors do NOT interact!

‧̍̊·̊‧̥°̩̥˚̩̩̥͙°̩̥‧̥·̊‧̍̊ ♡ °̩̥˚̩̩̥͙°̩̥ ·͙*̩̩͙˚̩̥̩̥*̩̩̥͙·̩̩̥͙*̩̩̥͙˚̩̥̩̥*̩̩͙‧͙ °̩̥˚̩̩̥͙°̩̥ ♡ ‧̍̊·̊‧̥°̩̥˚̩̩̥͙°̩̥‧̥·̊‧̍̊

"what the fuck was that?" sunghoon asked once he slammed the door behind you. the sound made you flinch, yet you couldn't help but smile slightly.

"what was what?" you asked, your voice sweet like honey as you looked up at him with feigned innocence.

he gritted his teeth. "you know damn well what," he locked the door and turned back to you, "what were you doing in there?"

you bit your lip slightly, torn between amusement over how worked up he'd gotten and anticipation of what would follow if only you pushed him further.

"closing the deal you would have missed otherwise, because you were busy giving mr choi death glares," you said ever so sweetly, taking a step towards him, so close your chest almost touched his, but not quite.

you looked up at him and saw his jaw twitching, something that always happened when he was mad or upset. it wasn't only about his ego – he would have been able to close the deal, 100%. it was that mr choi was downright flirting with you for the entirety of the meeting.

"you didn't have to flirt back for a stupid deal," he protested. his hands found your hips, pulling you closer and closing the last bit of distance between you. you felt the heat of sunghoon's body against yours, not sure if it had been from the stress of the meeting or the anger he'd built up during that.

"leaving the fucker thinking he'd have a chance," he murmured, digging his fingertips into your skin almost possessively.

there was something about the rawness in his voice and the way he kept you close that made you want to push his buttons even further, although you knew you shouldn't.

"jealous?" you asked, a little bolder, as you brought one hand up to softly grab and toy with his tie. "i wasn't flirting, i was being nice."

"unnecessarily so," he added, looking down at his tie in your hand.

"you were the one who didn't want to make us public," you teased, pulling him down by his tie to brush your lips just slightly against his.

sunghoon's annoyed groan was muffled when one of his hands moved up to cup the back of your neck, making sure you wouldn't leave. he leaned down a little more to deepen the kiss, sliding his tongue over your bottom lip. you opened your mouth, but he pulled back ever so slightly, to reply.

"doesn't mean you get to be flirty," he kissed you again, this time a bit harder, a bit less patient. "you're still mine."

the possessiveness in his voice and the roughness in his touch settled between your legs, sending fresh waves of heat through your body with each second that passed.

"am i?" you challenged between kisses. sunghoon grabbed your hip tighter and walked until your back hit the small shelf in the back of the tiny room. it held binders and a pile of loose files on top of it. without breaking the kiss, he carelessly shoved the files aside, landing them on the floor, and grabbed the back of your thighs to lift you up and sit you down on the shelf.

only then, sunghoon pulled back, a string of saliva connecting your lips from how messy your kiss had been. he placed his hands on your thighs, forcing your legs open, which caused your skirt to ride up slightly, and stepped between them – so close you could feel his already hardening cock against your clothed core.

"you are," he replied, leaning down to kiss your neck. his hands found their way to your hips again, holding you tightly as his kisses turned into nibbles and bites.

your eyes fluttered shut and you placed your hands on sunghoon's shoulders, digging your fingers into his shirt whenever he found the spots he'd grown familiar with by now.

"made it clear for everyone," he said satisfied after licking over another mark he'd just left, pulling back slightly to admire the mess of hickeys and bite marks all over your neck.

"sunghoon," you said, your voice a little breathless, as you pulled him closer again, bucking your hips up just slightly to meet his own.

he groaned lowly at the contact, sliding your skirt up fully so it rested around your waist and pulled you against his crotch again. your breath hitched, your hands dropping from his shoulders to his hips where you started to open his belt, but he grabbed your wrists to stop you.

you opened your mouth to protest, but quickly closed it again when sunghoon kneeled down in front of you, coming to eye level with your cunt. he slid your soaked underwear down your legs and shoved it into the back pocket of his pants.

"so wet for me and i barely even touched you," he remarked, looking up with a smug grin for a second, before burying his face between your thighs and licking one long stripe along your wet folds without further warning.

your eyes fluttered shut again, your hands automatically finding their way to his hair. he closed his lips around your clit, sucking it into his mouth before releasing it again with a satisfied hum.

"shit, angel, you taste so fucking sweet," he mumbled, his words muffled by your cunt. he alternated between soft kitten licks against your folds and clit and pushing his tongue past your lips into your drenched cunt.

he was hard, painfully so, but he was determined to make you cum before he'd even think about himself. sunghoon loved the taste of you. he could eat you out for hours if you let him, and he'd die a happy man if only it was with his face between your thighs.

you slightly scratched his scalp, pulling on his hair to pull his face closer into your heat, and letting out a choked moan when his nose bumped against your clit.

you could feel sunghoon's lips curling up into a smile. "that's right, angel, let everyone know who you belong to," he slurred before focusing his tongue on your clit again and placing a finger on your entrance, slowly pushing it inside.

"f-fuck, sunghoon," you cried out as he curled his finger just in the right spot, "please"

sunghoon suppressed another grin, adding a second finger and picking up the pace.

"cum for me like a good girl."

it only took the demanding tone in his deep voice to let the knot in your stomach snap – to come undone right on his fingers, while his tongue kept circling around your clit. he pumped his fingers in and out a few more times, helping you ride out your orgasm, before pulling them out, standing up and holding them up to your mouth.

your cheeks flushed, but you parted your lips and swirled your tongue around his fingers once he'd placed them in your mouth, tasting your own release.

sunghoon's pants tightened uncomfortably more at the sight – you looking up at him with those innocent eyes as if you weren't sucking your own cum off his fingers after he'd eaten you out in the office's storage room.

you reached for his belt again and this time he let you open it. you unbottoned his pants and opened the zipper, making sure to trace your fingers along his clothed hardness.

you were about to slide off the shelf, ready to return the favor to your boyfriend, but sunghoon placed his hands on your hips again, stopping you.

he pulled down his pants and boxers just enough to free his aching cock, painfully hard and leaking precum from the tip.

you bit your lips, carefully reaching to touch him, curling your fingers around his length and softly sliding your thumb over his slit. sunghoon shivered under your touch, hissing a curse and throwing his head back a little as you began to pump his shaft up and down.

"angel, i– fuck, stop," he struggled, but gripped your hand when you didn't obey. instead, he brought his tip to your soaked cunt, teasing along your folds just enough to make both of you whimper, before he aligned himself with your entrance and pushed in fully without another thought.

you gasped at the sudden stretch, your hand flying over your mouth to muffle your sounds. sunghoon gave you some moments to adjust to his size before starting to move when you gave him a little nod. his thrusts were painfully slow, letting you feel every inch, but it felt equally as intimate.

"hoon," you whispered, not trusting your voice.

he lowered his head and rested his forehead against yours. "yes, angel?"

all your boldness was gone and you felt almost too shy to ask for more, so you just bucked up your hips, hoping he'd understand.

"shy suddenly?" he asked with a grin, tucking a loose strand of hair behind your ear, but still complying.

his thrusts turned faster, harsher, his tip kissing your cervix each time. you tried to move against him, meeting his thrusts, but sunghoon's hands were so strongly holding onto your hips that you couldn't move – that it would for sure leave marks.

you gripped his shoulders for support again, and buried your face in the crook of his neck in an attempt to dampen the moans that fell from your lips uncontrollably by now.

but your sweet sounds only spurred him to thrust harder, deeper – anything it took to hear his name roll off your tongue like a mantra.

"s-sunghon, i– nghh, close," was all you managed to say as you could feel your second orgasm approaching faster than ever.

his hands left your hips, one of them grabbed your hair and yanked your head back, while the other found its way between your bodies, drawing figure eights around your clit. your eyes fluttered shut, but you forced them open when you felt a light tug on your hair.

"look at me when you cum," sunghoon demanded, his gaze so dark that you did your best to keep your eyes open as the waves of your orgasm rushed over you.

the sight of you cumming, your high pitched moans, and the way your walls clenched around him would have been enough to trigger sunghoon's climax too, but he held back, not wanting to stop just yet.

he kept fucking into you at the same pace, the pleasure of your orgasm starting to turn into overstimulation.

"hoon," you whimpered, digging your nails into his shoulders deeper, "too– too much"

sunghoon lowered his head to give you a soft kiss that starkly contrasted the intensity of his pounding. "just a little longer, angel," he whispered, "you'll be a good girl and take it, right?"

you nodded, closed your eyes, and it took only a few more thrusts until you felt his cock twitch inside you. sunghoon came with a low groan, painting your walls white.

he pulled you against him, your head resting on his chest, and held you close to his body until both of your heartbeats steadied and you caught your breaths. he slowly pulled out, watching as the mixture of yours and his cum dripped down on the shelf, before looking up at you again.

"you okay?" he asked softly and leaned in to place a gentle kiss on your forehead.

you only nodded, not yet trusting yourself to speak.

"good. then turn around and bend over for me."

‧̍̊·̊‧̥°̩̥˚̩̩̥͙°̩̥‧̥·̊‧̍̊ ♡ °̩̥˚̩̩̥͙°̩̥ ·͙*̩̩͙˚̩̥̩̥*̩̩̥͙·̩̩̥͙*̩̩̥͙˚̩̥̩̥*̩̩͙‧͙ °̩̥˚̩̩̥͙°̩̥ ♡ ‧̍̊·̊‧̥°̩̥˚̩̩̥͙°̩̥‧̥·̊‧̍̊

© dazzlingjaeyun, 2024. please do not copy.

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[chosok-amo]

Yuta and a 𝓕𝓻𝓮𝓪𝓴𝔂 reader who has a habit of making nsfw jokes at any given time..?

SUPER FREAKY GIRL: YUTA OKKOTSU

yuta okkotsu loves having you as his girlfriend, but there is nothing that would prepare yuta from this side of you— making everything sensual; you just love having your shy boyfriend flustered and blushing, just overall giving him a hard time. . . and a boner.

w/c: 5.7k

warning : lots and lots of suggestive conversation, fluff.

𝜗𝜚 . . . i'm having too much fun writing this one because yuuta is one of my favorites jjk's character.

yuuta okkotsu is head over heels for you. as your boyfriend, he treasures the moments you share and finds immense joy in every little aspect of your relationship. he loves the way you look at him, how you laugh at his jokes, and the tenderness of your touch. however, there's a unique side to your dynamic that always keeps him on his toes and completely off guard.

you have an incredible talent for dropping cheeky, flirtatious comments at the most unexpected moments. whether you're out with friends, in a casual setting, or sharing a quiet evening alone, you never miss an opportunity to tease him with your playful remarks. it doesn't matter if you're surrounded by people or if it's just the two of you—your provocative comments come effortlessly, catching him by surprise every single time.

yuuta finds himself blushing and stumbling over his words, his usually composed demeanor melting away under your mischievous influence. the way you playfully provoke him, turning his calm and collected nature into a flustered mess, is something he can't quite get used to, even though he adores it. your comments add a layer of excitement and unpredictability to your relationship, making every interaction with you both exhilarating and endearing. It’s a playful dance that keeps your connection vibrant and full of sparks, and yuuta wouldn’t have it any other way.

just like that moment, you and yuuta were deep into your combat training at the usual training ground, along with your friends. as you both took a brief pause to catch your breath, you decided to lighten the mood with a flirty comment.

with a playful smirk, you said, “you know, yuuta, if you keep dodging my attacks like that, i might just have to find another way to catch your attention. should i flash you some tits?”

yuuta, slightly flustered and caught off guard, tried to maintain his composure but ended up stumbling over his own feet, falling to the ground with a surprised laugh. his cheeks flushed a soft pink as he looked up at you, his usual calm demeanor giving way to a charmingly embarrassed smile.

yuuta's reaction was absolutely adorable, and you couldn't help but feel a hint of satisfaction that you'd managed to break through his otherwise calm demeanor. he chuckled softly as he attempted to pick himself up from the ground, still wearing that endearing blush on his face.

“that's— ah. . .”

his voice was shaky, a mixture of surprise and embarrassment. he cleared his throat, trying to regain his composure, but it was clear that your words had made his heart skip a beat or two.

“i-i wouldn't... mind— uh. . .”

and don't forget the other day when you and yuuta were hanging out with friends in inumaki’s room, the group chatting and laughing together. yuuta was seated on the floor beside you, comfortably leaning against the wall as he engaged in conversation with his friends. you, sitting next to him, were enjoying the relaxed atmosphere and the easy camaraderie.

as the conversation flowed around you, you decided to add a bit of playful mischief to the mix. without drawing attention, you let your hand slide down and gently squeeze yuuta's thigh. his eyes widened slightly, and he momentarily faltered in his conversation, his cheeks turning a soft shade of pink.

yuuta tried to maintain his composure, but the warmth of your touch and the unexpected squeeze made him shift uncomfortably. his friends, too engrossed in their discussions, didn’t notice the subtle exchange. you couldn't help but smile at his reaction, enjoying the way your simple gesture made him blush and fidget while trying to keep up with the conversation.

when your friends don't notice, you lean closer, “have you been working out with gojo, babe?” you smile at him, your sweet, sweet, innocent smile. “it feels like your thighs have gotten more muscle than before,” you give his thigh another squeeze. “can i make a mess on your thigh?” you whisper in his ear, slightly giving it a kiss.

you and your dirty jokes. . .

you were spending a cozy evening in yuuta okkotsu’s dorm room. the room was softly lit, creating a warm and intimate atmosphere. you were lying on your stomach on his bed, deeply focused on your lego puzzle as you assembled the pieces with meticulous care. meanwhile, yuuta sat on the sofa near the bed, engrossed in a book, his gentle presence adding to the comfort of the night.

every now and then, you glanced over at yuuta, admiring the way he seemed completely absorbed in his reading, his eyes scanning the pages with a look of serene concentration. the quiet of the room was punctuated only by the soft rustle of pages and the occasional click of lego pieces snapping into place.

you couldn’t resist taking advantage of the peaceful moment to tease him a little. with a playful smirk, you glanced up and called out, “babe, do you have a driver's license?” you ask him. yuuta looked up from his book, a hint of surprise on his face at the unexpected question. he blinked a few times, considering the question before replying.

“a... driver's license? yeah, i do. i got it a year ago. why do you ask?” his expression was equal parts confusion and curiosity, and he marked his page before fully turning his attention towards you. the lamplight cast a soft glow over his features, making his dark eyes seem even more intense as he looked at you, waiting for your response.

you smile, looking over your shoulder to look at your boyfriend, “do you think i need a driver's license, too, to ride you?” yuuta's face instantly turns a deep shade of scarlet, and he splutters wordlessly, clearly caught off guard by your suggestive comment. his heart rate quickens, and it's clear that your words have had quite the effect on him.

he swallows hard, attempting to regain his composure as he struggles to find a suitable response to your question. after a moment, he manages to blurt out a response, his voice shaky and his eyes wide with a mixture of embarrassment and arousal.

“y-you— uh, i mean, n-no, you don't. . .”

his cheeks were flushed, and he shifted nervously on the sofa, his heart still racing from your playful comment. he couldn't help but feel flustered by your boldness, but at the same time, he found your confidence and assertiveness incredibly attractive. clearing his throat, he tried to respond in a more composed manner, attempting to hide the effect your words had on him.

“no, baby... y-you don't need a d-driver's license to...” he stumbled over his words, unable to finish the sentence as his mind wandered to the possible implications. yuuta's brain is short-circuited, his thoughts overwhelmed by the sudden fantasy that had filled his mind. he flushed an even deeper shade of red, his eyes widening in surprise as his imagination ran wild for a moment. he clenched his jaw, trying to compose himself, but he couldn't shake off the effect your words had on him.

he swallowed hard, his fingers gripping the edge of the sofa as he tried to collect his thoughts. “baby, that's... um... t-that's not fair...” he groaned, almost whining.

you chuckled, amused by how easily your boyfriend became a blushing mess. you push yourself away from the comfort of his bed to walk over him. instinctively, yuuta opens his arms, gladly and warmly welcoming you to his lap.

“what's not fair? i'm just asking you a question,” you look down at him. yuuta's arms automatically wrap around you as you settle in his lap, pulling you closer to him. the warmth of his embrace provides a sense of comfort and intimacy, and he gazes up at you with a mix of slight embarrassment and affection.

“you know what's not fair,” he mutters, his voice still faintly hoarse from the earlier flustered response. he lets out a soft chuckle, his cheeks still tinged with a hint of pink. his eyes fix on yours, a slight pout on his lips as he pretends to be indignant.

“you're playing with my heart,” yuuta leaned back into the sofa, pulling you even closer against his chest as he continued to pout slightly. despite his feigned indignation, there was a hint of playfulness in his eyes, a glimmer of enjoyment in the way he reacted to your teasing.

his arms wrapped around your waist, his touch firm and warm. he could feel your body pressed against him, and the closeness only heightened the intimacy between you. his heart raced in his chest, the sound of it like a gentle thrum against your skin.

“you're being mean,” he accused, his voice soft and somewhat teasing. yuuta's grip on your waist tightened slightly, the playful pout still on his lips. he looked up at you with the cutest puppy dog eyes, his face the picture of exaggerated disappointment, but there was a hint of mischief behind his gaze.

he let out a soft sigh, his voice a playful grumble as he continued his act of indignation. “you're toying with my emotions... it's not fair. i can't handle it when you say things like that.”

yuuta's eyes never left yours, holding your gaze with a mixture of playful affection and mock frustration. he maintained his pout, his lips pressed together in a fake frown as he continued to grumble about your behavior.

he shifted slightly underneath you, causing your hips to press against his crotch, eliciting a sharp inhale from him as he seemed to be struggling to keep up with the charade. his hands moved to grip your hips, his fingers pressing gently into your skin as if to silently urge you to stop teasing him. “i'm sorry baby, didn't mean to,” you murmur, voice so low yuuta is afraid it reaches his crotch, especially with that little smile of yours. but knowing your nature, he knows you didn't feel sorry at all, not even a wee.

yuuta swallows hard, your sultry voice sending a shiver down his spine and straight to his core. despite your mock apology, he can tell from the look in your eyes that you're not even remotely sorry at all. he takes a deep breath, trying to keep his composure as your words and your body pressed against him have an undeniable effect on him. but he plays along, feigning a pout as he speaks in a slightly breathless voice.

“you're not sorry. you're a tease.”

yuuta's words were barely a murmur as he struggled to rein in the desires growing within him. he shifted slightly, his grip on your hips becoming more firm. his body tensed beneath you, his heart hammering in his chest as he tried to maintain his composure. yet, despite his attempts to keep his cool, he couldn't help but find your teasing behavior incredibly tantalizing. the way you made his body respond so intensely to your every word and touch was both maddening and irresistible.

“no, i mean it, i'm really sorry,” you again, murmur softly. your hands are moving around, caressing yuuta's bare chest. now he kind of regrets wearing nothing but a black boxer when you are around.

yuuta's breath hitches as your fingers caress his bare chest, the sensation sending a rush of heat through his body. he bites his lip, trying to maintain his composure as your touch ignites a fire within him. he knows he's fighting a losing battle, but he still tries to keep up his act of feigned disappointment.

“you— ah. . . you really don't seem like you're sorry,” he replies as softly as he can, his voice sounding a little more huskier than usual. you laugh a little before shaking your head, “no, not at all.” slowly you move your hips— your palm puts pressure on his chest.

yuuta's eyes widen slightly as you move your hips, your touch causing a sharp intake of breath to escape from his lips. the pressure of your palm on his chest combined with your seductive movements makes his heart race even faster, his chest rising and falling more rapidly as his restraint begins to falter.

“you... tease,” he whispers under his breath, his voice laced with a mix of frustration and undeniable desire. his hands grip your hips a bit tighter as he struggles to keep control of his own body's reactions. yuuta's body trembles involuntarily as you move against him, the friction between your bodies causing him to bite back a moan.

his eyes are fixed on yours, his expression now a mix of pleading and arousal. he wants you, desperately, but he knows you're enjoying this little game of tease and denial. he swallows hard, his voice strained as he speaks. “you, you're driving me crazy teasing me like this.”

suddenly, you stop moving, and he looks at you confused, eyebrows knitting together the moment his body is covered with cold nothing.

“i'm hungry,” you said. getting up from his lap and walking over to your phone. yuuta was too stunned to speak, he looked at you with eyes wide open, having his brain working twice as hard to process what the fuck is just happened— you standing near his bed with nothing but his navy blue shirt.

yuuta was left speechless, his body cold and abandoned as you abruptly got up from his lap. he sat frozen, watching you as you stood near the bed. his mind was a whirlwind of conflicting emotions; frustration, confusion, and undeniable arousal. he felt vulnerable and exposed, his body still tingling from your touch, yet now left with nothing to relieve the tension.

“hungry?? seriously?”

yuuta’s voice was a bit strained, a mix of annoyance and disbelief. here he was, sitting there half-naked and flustered because of your actions, and all you could say was that you were hungry.

he ran a hand through his hair, trying to gather his thoughts and regain his composure, but it was difficult to do so while feeling so exposed and wanting nothing more than to have you back on his lap.

“you… you can’t just leave me like this and then say you’re hungry…” he wanted to protest, to pull you back to where you belong and demand that you finish what you started. but he also knew you well enough to know that your teasing could continue for much longer if he didn't tread carefully. you turn your head, masking a confused look, purposely acting oblivious to make your boyfriend frustrated; it works. “like what?” you ask, “i can't eat now?” you added.

yuuta's frustration grew as you played oblivious, pretending to be completely unaware of the effect you had on him. his jaw clenched, and he let out a small, frustrated noise as he tried to find the right words to respond. he knew you were enjoying this, reveling in his growing frustration.

“no... you can eat later— i…”

he swallowed hard, his mind filled with images of you on top of him, your hands running all over his body. but he quickly shook his head, trying to snap out of his fantasies and focus on the current moment. you groan a little, pretend to be a little annoyed, “but baby, i'm hungry. . .” you look at him while pouting. you again, walk over and stand before him— making him eye-level with your bare thigh. your eyes focusing on your screen, scrolling through a bunch of restaurants and ready to order some food.

yuuta's breath catches in his throat as you step close to him again, his eyes fixated on your bare thigh right in front of him. his hands clench at his sides as he struggles to keep himself from reaching out and pulling you onto his lap.

he takes a deep breath, trying to gather his thoughts and find some semblance of control, but the sight of you in that position makes it increasingly difficult. he can feel the tension and desire rising within him, and he knows you're just stoking the flames even higher.

“babe. . . we can order later.”

yuuta's voice is low and strained as he speaks. his gaze is fixed on your legs, the temptation to reach out and run his hands up your thighs almost unbearable. his heart is racing, and he's struggling to keep his thoughts from spiraling out of control.

leaning forward slightly, he looks up at you, his eyes pleading and filled with a mixture of lust and frustration, “can't we... can't we do something else first, please...?”

yuuta's gentle and desperate comment seemed to fall on deaf ears as you continued to focus intently on your phone, scrolling through various food options. absorbed in your thoughts, you muttered aloud about your cravings.

“hmm, what should we have for dinner tonight?” you pondered, your eyes glued to the screen. “i’m really craving some chicken. it sounds so good right now. what about you, babe? any particular food you’re in the mood for?” you didn’t even bother to look up, lost in your own world of food choices. yuuta’s dark blue eyes followed you with a frustrated face.

yuuta groaned internally as you continued to obliviously scroll through your phone and discuss dinner options. he knew you were teasing him, prolonging his suffering by pretending not to notice his growing desperation. his eyes darkened as he watched you, his patience wearing thin with each passing moment of this maddening game.

he bit his lip, trying to rein in his frustration and maintain his composure, but it was a losing battle. he wanted you, wanted you badly, and you seemed determined to keep him in this state of agonizing limbo.

“babe, please. . . i don't care about dinner right now,” his voice was strained, a mixture of frustration and desire as he pleaded with you to stop this maddening game. his hands gripped the edge of the sofa, knuckles turning white as he fought the urge to snatch your phone away and show you exactly what he wanted.

“i just want you, i need you... please. can we do something else first?” he couldn’t hide the pleading tone in his voice, the words coming out almost like a desperate whimper. yuuta's heart pounded in his chest as he waited for your response, his eyes fixed on you, silently begging you to put down the phone and give him the attention he so desperately craved.

he could feel the tension in the air, the palpable sexual energy between you both, and he knew that you were fully aware of the effect you had on him. but you continued to act nonchalant, driving him to the edge of his patience. he swallowed hard, his voice barely above a whisper as he spoke again.

“babe... please...”

“later baby,” you mumble while your eyes are still on your phone, you touching his cheek for a second before walking away to sit on his bed. yuuta's heart sank as you dismissed him, your careless words and brief touch doing nothing to quell the fire burning within him.

he watched in disappointment as you walked away and sat on the bed, a small part of him hoping that you were just trying to build up the tension, but the logical part of his brain knew that you were actually serious about waiting.

he let out a frustrated sigh, his body still aching with desire as he tried to accept that he would have to wait a while longer for the release he craved.

“later? great...”

yuuta leaned back on the sofa, feeling defeated and frustrated by your lack of attention. he took a deep breath, trying to compose himself and push aside the growing disappointment and lust coursing through his body. it was difficult, knowing that the object of his desire was right there, casually scrolling through the phone while he stewed in his own frustration.

he fidgeted on the sofa, shifting his weight and trying to find a comfortable position while he waited for you to finish your phone business so that you could finally give him the attention he craved so badly. yuuta's mind is raced, filled with a mix of emotions and thoughts. he couldn't understand how you could be so unaffected by the tension and desire that was palpable between you both.

as he sat there waiting, he began to imagine different scenarios in his mind. scenarios where you suddenly set your phone down and pounced on him, giving him the release he so desperately needed. but he knew that was unrealistic, and it only served to frustrate him further.

“done!” you declared with a sense of satisfaction as you tossed your phone onto his bed. finally, you turned to yuuta, giving him a sweet, reassuring smile. with a playful bounce in your step, you pushed yourself off the bed and walked over to him, making him think that you were ready to spend some quality time together.

however, his hopeful anticipation quickly turned to confusion as you walked right past him and headed towards the fridge. opening the door, you bent over to peer inside, scanning the contents with focused determination.

“yuuta, baby,” you called out, “do you still have that vanilla ice cream? i’ve been craving it all day!” your tone was light and cheerful, clearly more interested in satisfying your sweet tooth than in the cozy moment he had hoped for. yuuta's face fell as he watched you walk past him without even acknowledging his desperate need for your attention. his heart sank as you bent over and started rummaging through the fridge, your focus completely on your craving for ice cream.

he couldn’t believe how easily you seemed to forget about his frustration and desire, as if they were completely insignificant compared to your hunger for sweets. he frowned as he spoke, trying to mask the disappointment in his voice.

“mmm, yeah, it’s still in there…”

after a thorough search through the fridge, you finally spotted the vanilla ice cream tucked in the back. with a satisfied grin, you pulled it out and made your way back to yuuta. you plopped down beside him on the sofa, the ice cream container now in your hands.

without giving yuuta much attention, you set the ice cream on the coffee table and reach for the remote. you turned on the tv, casually flipping through channels as you settled into a comfortable position beside him. you pull the shirt up to your chest, showing yuuta your matching black underwear. the evening’s cozy atmosphere resumed as you started to focus on the show, your attention now firmly on the screen and the ice cream in your hand.

yuuta watched with a mixture of disbelief and frustration as you sat down next to him, completely oblivious to the needs he had been shamelessly expressing just moments ago. he couldn’t believe that you were actually more interested in watching tv and eating ice cream than paying any attention to him.

“what are you doing?” he asked in disbelief. his eyes couldn’t help but roam over your body as you pulled the shirt up and revealed your matching underwear. his body involuntarily reacted to the sight, but it only frustrated him even more, knowing that you had no intentions of satisfying his desires.

you turn your head to him, a confused look coloring your pretty face with a pair of your eyebrows arch, “what? i didn't want the ice cream to get to your shirt,” you tell the boy before turning your attention back to the tv.

yuuta let out a small, scoffing laugh at your nonchalant response. he couldn't believe that you were even more concerned about getting ice cream on his shirt than you were about his obvious frustration and need.

“oh, thanks for that,” he replied, his voice dripping with sarcasm as he rolled his eyes. “i really appreciate you looking out for my shirt, but i think i was hoping for your attention on something else…” you just nodded, clearly not really paying attention to whatever he just said.

yuuta gritted his teeth, feeling increasingly frustrated and ignored. he watched as you continued eating your ice cream and watching tv, as if he wasn’t even there. he could feel the heat rising in his body, a mixture of anger and arousal that he couldn’t seem to control.

he shifted on the sofa, trying to get more comfortable, but the friction between his body and the fabric only made his frustration grow even more. he clenched his fists and tried to speak calmly, despite the frustration threatening to boil over.

“love... can we talk for a minute?”

“hm?” you hummed softly.

you turn your head to him— eyebrows arching for the second time. he watches how you lick your ice cream, starting from the bottom, and dragging your tongue to the top before putting the ice cream full inside your mouth.

yuuta couldn't believe how completely innocent and oblivious you were acting as you licked your ice cream in that incredibly seductive manner. it was driving him insane, his body responding with desperate need even though he was angry at your indifference.

“can you... can you stop doing that for a minute?“ he tried to keep his voice steady, failing to conceal the desire lacing his words. “i need to talk to you about something... it's important.” your side lips irk, like you're mocking him, “what? you wish it was your dick, huh?”

yuuta's face flushed red at your blunt and accurate comment. it was as if you had read his mind and were now taunting him with his own desires. he fidgeted on the sofa, trying to keep his tone steady despite the obvious discomfort in his pants.

“shut up...” he muttered, his voice low and full of frustrated arousal. “i just want to talk to you about... something else, okay?” yuuta's eyes darken as you mock him with that smirk on your face, your words going straight to the growing frustration and arousal within him.

you nodded, “okay.”

but your hand is moving slowly— fingers pinching your ice cream stick and pulling it out and in for a few times, still with that mocking smirk in your lips. yuuta watched as your hand moved, and he couldn’t help but let out a small, involuntary moan. he knew you were doing it on purpose, trying to tease and torture him even more, and it was working all too well. he bit his lip and clenched his fists, trying to keep his control and not give in to the growing need in his body.

“why... why are you doing this to me?” he whispered, his voice filled with a mix of desire and frustration. yuuta's body is tense as he watches you play with the ice cream stick, the sounds of your slurping and licking adding to his growing ache. he can feel his self-control slipping, the desire for you growing stronger with each passing moment.

“i just— i just want to talk to you... can you please. . .put the ice cream down for a minute?” his voice is pleading now, desperation bleeding into the words. again, you nodded, “yes, babe.” so you are putting the ice cream down— down to your throat until you gag before slowly pulling the ice cream out of your mouth.

yuuta’s eyes darkened as he watched you put the ice cream down your throat, the sight of you gagging only adding to the overwhelming mix of desire and frustration coursing through him. he swallows hard, his voice growing even more strained as he speaks, “y/n, that's not what i meant...”

yuuta's frustration and arousal reach a boiling point as he watches you continue to tease him on purpose, making it increasingly difficult for him to think clearly. he knows he should put an end to this maddening game, but his body is betraying him, responding to every action and movement you make.

he takes a deep breath, trying to rein in his desire and speak calmly, yet he can't help the hint of pleading in his voice, “can you please, just stop what you're doing and talk to me?” you nodded enthusiastically, your smile widening as you finally turned your attention back to yuuta. “yes, baby, i’m all done now. we can talk,” you reassured him, placing the ice cream stick down on the table with a contented sigh.

he noticed a small smudge of ice cream lingering at the corner of your lips. the sight made you look even more sensual. you were clearly enjoying the moment, and the bit of ice cream on your lips only added to the fire. it was white and creamy and all yuuta could ever think was how you look with his cum on your lips.

he swallowed hard, his mind wandering to thoughts of how you would look with it replaced by his own... he tried to brush away the thought, but the image was already burned into his mind. “thanks, listen, I really do need to talk to you about something...”

yuuta’s voice trailed off as his gaze fixated on the ice cream smudge on your lip. His mind was overwhelmed with thoughts and images of what he wanted to do to you, and he found it increasingly difficult to focus on the conversation. he cleared his throat, trying to keep his voice even as he continued speaking, “it's important... or at least, i think it is, but i can't concentrate with... with...” he pauses, his eyes locked on that damn smudge of ice cream on your lip.

“with what?”

yuuta’s frustration and desire grew stronger as he continued to stare at your lip, the ice cream smudge taunting him. he knew he should just blurt out what he wanted to say, but the words were stuck in his throat. he took a deep breath, trying to compose himself and form a coherent sentence.

“that, that ice cream smudged... on your lip,” he manages to say, his voice strained and low, “it's distracting me.” he tried to keep his voice steady, but he could hear the slight waver in his tone, betraying the struggle he was having to keep his focus and control. he clenched his fists, silently willing you to just wipe that damn ice cream smudge off your lip, but you just sat there, seemingly oblivious to the effect it was having on him.

he shifted on the sofa, trying to find a more comfortable position, but the movement only served to remind him of the growing ache in his body. he wanted to reach out and wipe it off himself, but he knew that would only make things worse. he swallowed hard, his voice strained as he spoke again, “babe... can you please just wipe that ice cream off your lip? it's driving me insane.”

“oh?” your thumb moves across your lips, brushing the ice cream off of you before licking your finger. “sweet, just like when i swallow you.” yuuta's breath hitched as he watched you wipe the ice cream off your lips with your finger, and then casually licking it clean, as if you were blissfully unaware of the effect you had on him.

he couldn't help but feel a pang of frustration at your nonchalant attitude, but at the same time, his body responded to the sight, stirring with renewed desire at your words, “babe... what are you doing to me...”

you taking off your shirt before moving closer, “wanna taste yourself?” you mumble on his lips after you ring your arms around his neck, closing any gap between you and him. yuuta let out a soft moan as he feels your lips on his, the taste of the sweet ice cream still lingering on them. your arms around his neck only added to his growing arousal, and he found it increasingly difficult to keep his control.

he let his hands roam over your bare skin, tracing the curves and ridges of your body with his fingers as he spoke in a ragged whisper, “god, you're driving me crazy... you know that?”

smiling, you whisper “i know,” on his lips as you push him to lie on the couch, slowly with you on top of him. yuuta's body responds eagerly to your touch and movement, his hands instinctively reaching for your hips and holding you gently in place on top of him. he can feel the heat from your body radiating through him, the sweet, lingering taste of the ice cream still clinging to your lips.

he looks up at you with a mixture of frustration and desire, his voice coming out in a low, gravelly whisper, “you're going to be the death of me, you know that? i-i want you so badly.”

“we can forget the chicken, i'm craving to get rail out of nowhere,” you mumble on his lips, licking his bottom lips. a low, guttural moan escapes from yuuta's lips as he feels you licking his bottom lip, his body responding immediately to your touch and words. he can feel his resolve slipping as his hands grip your hips tighter, pulling you even closer to him on the sofa.

he manages to speak through gasps and breaths, “jesus... the things you do to me.” he can feel the heat of your body pressed against his, his hands begin to roam over the bare skin of your back, tracing the contour of your curves as he no longer fights the rising tide of desire and frustration within him.

by the end of the night, yuuta had certainly made sure that you were thoroughly exhausted and satisfied, paying you back for all the teasing and driving him crazy. the combination of his pent-up frustration and desire had led to a night of intense passion and energy that left you both breathless and spent.

[suguru-getos]

Fates - SatoSugu x F!Reader (Part I)

Summary: Y/N is Gojo Satoru's beloved wife, or maybe, not so beloved if we consider the rage festering in the form of abuse. Suguru however, has a connection to her too, and it's time he gets to his girl. Warnings: Satoru is a Yandere, he is psychotic, abusive, and bad. Mentions of slight depression, scared reader. Please let me know if I missed anything. A/N: Queen Goddess Ena cooked with this, I was so bored at work I just came up with this, this story will only have two parts I don't want to drag it much :33

Pupils glazed, it has almost become a signature look in the Satoru household. Her pupils look red, eyes puffy, and she's a mixture of mingled sniffles and broken cries. Satoru thinks, she cries a lot. What even is the need for it? It's not like he is harming her, he hasn't shown her half of what he is capable of. Yet, the way she cowers and flinches against him… makes his stomach churn uncomfortably.

"I brought your favourite." His voice echoed, a signal for her to stir awake instantly. Meek, hurried footsteps are heard a few seconds later as she drags herself to the dining area. Dressed eloquently, satin, lavender satin clothes and her beautiful cleavage on sight. It reminds Satoru that she is small, fragile, powerless. Sometimes when her actions become inexcusable, that reminder is needed. How else would someone like Gojo Satoru contain his strength otherwise?

"Wow, you look beautiful." His glossy lips parted, the compliment oozing out with a mixture of conflicted emotions. His eyes well hidden under the mask. "Thank you" She answered without thinking, it's only possible through months of practise after all.

"You're welcome, my Princess." Satoru croons, holding her bruised wrist and helping her sit. The hold is nice, kind and passionate. Unlike the time when it bruised, unlike the time when she wouldn't listen and deny eating. Some lessons are learnt the hard way, you can't help but feel guilty about it later on. For Satoru, it's one of those days where he is feeling upset over his actions. When that emotion trembles his psyche, his affections know no bounds. Why else is the dining table saturated with everything her silly, little heart could possibly desire. Yet, there is one thing missing. Her appetite.

She settles down the dining table, eyes glancing at the larger man who sat next to her, "All your favourites, now be a good girl and finish it up." He grins, it's okay, he can smile for the both of them on days when she can't. He can be positive for the both of them when she can't. What else are relationships for?

"You know I can't finish it up alone." She sounds scared, voice containing slight tones of malice. That doesn’t faze Satoru, he knows that it will happen. His Dearest, Sweetest little girl can be angry at him. She is allowed to be angry at him, he belongs to her anyway, just as much as she belongs to him. However, the fact that her eyes are filled with tears and her soft, smooth voice is breaking when she says it is what punches him in the gut.

"Well, you know, no punishments when you can't finish the food. Bonus points for trying!" Satoru tries to sound excessively excited again, a desperate attempt to mute the bubbling feeling in the pit of his stomach.

"Okay" She hums, taking a bite of one of the pastries placed in front of her, humming in her approval. They seem tasty, yummy.

"I- uh," Satoru's voice is quick to distract her though, "I'm sorry for being a bad husband." Satoru answers, "It wouldn't happen again." There he goes, she has lost count to how many times Satoru has said these words. That he wouldn't do it again, that it wouldn't happen again. She doesn't believe him anymore, a bored nod is all he gets as a response.

Satoru's lips are pursed in guilt, "I shouldn't have lost my temper like that." He echoes again, that's true, he shouldn't have.

He shouldn't have sprained her wrist, he shouldn't have yanked her to the floor and yelled at her, he shouldn't have watched when her shoulder collides against the lamp and he shouldn't have watched her hiss in pain when she falls on the broken shards of glass. He shouldn't have done that because she didn't agree to have a baby. He shouldn't have…

"If it’s any consolation, I will not be botherin' you to ask you for a child again. Just thought you'd love me more with it." Satoru's voice drops into an ashamed murmur, admitting that all he wants at the end of the day is her love, it's freeing in a way. It's like confessing your sins at a church and just letting the almighty handle it.

It's just… her expression. She seems so out of it, so numb, broken… that he doesn't understand what to do, or say.

"Look, I'm running out of options here Sweetheart." Satoru's larger hand placed atop hers. The weak flinch not gone unnoticed, "How can I make it up to you?" He asked again, gnawing at his lip. "I'll do whatever you ask me to, I promise."

No he won't. If he would have actually done whatever she asked of him, they would have been divorced long, long ago. Satoru is good with words, his words almost seem healing, but that's all they are. Mere Fucking Words.

Before she could say anything, Satoru's phone vibrates. The only thing she is thankful for, is Satoru's impossible schedule. Being the strongest sorcerer ever has it's perks for her. She gets to rot in the Gojo estate alone. Much better than the company of her cruel, narcissistic husband.

Satoru gets up, taking the call and walking away to the hall-way. She can hear him trying to deny this mission, but reluctantly accepting it. A sigh escapes him when he comes back to the dining room, kneeling in front of her.

"Hey, Princess…" His hand reached to her cheek, caressing the cut that's still healing. "I have to go for a mission, you could even go outside if you like!" He smiled, giving her the bait to ensure at least momentarily happiness. What can she even do when she goes outside? Nothing. Satoru has his clutches deep within her family, her parents love him. He is sponsoring her brother's education, he takes control of everything. He has taken an active participation in her father's business. Nothing can be done now, the last time she mentioned divorce Satoru went livid. She doesn't think she can handle that ever again.

Another rehearsed nod happens, as she watches The Strongest leave her be.

Once his presence is gone, her heart bursts open to wails of agony, breathless sniffling and scream crying. What did she ever do to anyone! Why is she facing this! Her hopeless sobs echoed the premises, all she could hear was her own voice, broken, sobbing like a child. Until even that stopped, until silence enveloped her and exhaustion blanketed her into slumber.

The next morning, she is awake, realizing she passed out on the dining table. Her back hurts at the weird position she slept in, an aching groan escaping her lips. Satoru's texts on her phone wishing a good morning. Life is back to being hell. She responds to his texts with a sigh, dragging her boulted feet for a shower. Contemplating, thinking if there is any escape at all which can be possible. None, nothing comes to her mind. Absolutely nothing.

Drying herself up, applying ointments and bandages to the wounds caused by her husband, she gets ready to go outside, the mall seems nice. Satoru is out of Japan for a few days, perfect opportunity to gather herself back again, after all, Satoru needs something to break, right?

The commute goes by in a haze, thoughts on thoughts piled up, overwhelming like auditorium chatter of an audience.

"Uhm, excuse me, I really liked this one." One of the girls next to her spoke, whiskey-kin hair, a few years younger. It was an only designer in the Chanel store which was left. "Uh- okay." She hums, leaning away. Well, that was too easy? The girl beamed with happiness. "Oh wow! Thank you so much miss!"

Y/N had learnt how to respond with smiles that avoid any questions, and that's exactly what she did. Smiled back at the girl.

"My name is Nanako, I am here for shopping because my birthday is coming up soon. You are here for shopping too, and from the bruise on your jaw and neck, it seems your husband says sorry with new things." She was taken aback at the boldness, blinking.

"N-no, it was just- an accident." "You don't have to pretend in front of me, I don't think your husband is around anyway." Nanako winked, smiling back. "You're really beautiful, pretty sure my dad would have treated you way better. Leave the bastard, dump him!" She continued, following a very confused Y/N out the store. What was the deal with this girl even? "Your dad would be almost my dad's age." "Adoptive! He is a few years older than you I think." Nanako hums again, "Coffee? I like you because you gave me my favourite dress!" "I don't think that-" "Please!" "Uhm, okay." Y/N speaks, giving up and following up.

They settle in one of the coffee shops in the mall, settling in. The waiter comes in and asks for their order, "Iced Mocha, please." Y/N hums, and Nanako orders a Frappucino for herself.

"Nanako, who have you bothered now." A silky voice echoed from behind, her eyes lingered to the man in front of them, black hair touching his back, eyes responsive and appealing, his cologne was strong, musky and spicy, a close-eyed smile plastered on his features. "Geto sama!" Nanako chirps happily, "Please come sit next to us." She urged the man, who scanned Y/N and Nanako.

"Hello, my name is Geto Suguru." The man coos, watching her look submissive and even scared. She continuously reminded herself that Satoru is not here, nothing will happen. "Y/N Gojo." She hums, the large diamond ring on her finger noticed immediately.

Suguru is meeting Satoru's wife for the first time, he had heard that Satoru had changed; he is not the epitome of kindness anymore. It's evident. The bruises on her jaw and cheek are evident. His eyes softened, his heart hurts. Suguru met Y/N first, when she wasn't Gojo's wife… and let her go, the curses within him erasing her memory. All because Satoru loved her and Suguru felt that he owed it to his best friend, to have someone like Y/N. To have someone who can show him how great it is to achieve true love. How a non-sorcerer like Y/N was able to take Suguru's heart away. Oh how he regrets it now, he let his precious Angel go, and now she is in hell. The reminder when her loving eyes turned to void after their last kiss. Suguru has had recurrent nightmares about it. Maybe that's the reason Satoru's behaviour has changed. The fear of losing Y/N back to Suguru.

Well, that fear is about to come true, Suguru has had enough.

"You look beautiful in that dress Y/N Gojo." Suguru's voice took the lead, smiling gently. "Pity those bruises don't really suit someone strong-looking like you." The next statement comes off as scathing. "Tell me, if the person you loved, and the person who loved you back, and you shared a kiss, and they forget you, what would you do to remind them?" Suguru's sudden question took her off-guard. What does he mean…

"Sorry?" "Oh don't be. I know the question is random." He hums, watching the waiter put down the coffee. "I would kiss him again, if a kiss doesn't remind him, don't think anything else will." Y/N answered. Her freshly manicured fingers grazing against the glass.

Suguru's smile only grows wider. "Oh right, wonderful." He hums, and in the next swift movement, his hands are grazing Y/N's jaw. Her eyes widening. What is with this man, what’s happening! Satoru would kill her, Satoru would kill this man. Why can't she move, why is she unable to resist - and why is her body not anxious? If Satoru was to come near to her like this, her heart beat would have raced and pounded recklessly, a panic attack brewing. Nothing is happening now- she is as calm as it can be.

"How I missed my Angel." Suguru hummed, leaning in and kissing her, forcing the most unforced kiss ever. His tongue contained something bitter, something that latched deep down her throat. Suguru wants his angel back, Suguru misses her, Satoru couldn't get someone he can't love properly. Suguru's entire being was shattered when he let her go, it's time he has her back.

[nothorses]

This is a genuine ask and I hope it doesn't come off as rude, obviously people can do whatever they want forever, but what is the logic behind a lesbian dating a transgender man? (By lesbian I mean someone who is only attracted to women), wouldn't that exclude binary trans men then since trans men are men? Or is it like "Trans men can be lesbians because they have vaginas" which just feels like bioessentialism with progressive wording...

I think the core misunderstanding here might be in your use of the word "logic". And there's a super high chance I'm extrapolating more intention than you put into that word choice, but hear me out.

On a super basic level, I think it's important to understand the reasons people use words like "lesbian" and "trans man" in the first place. In certain contexts, it makes sense to assign these terms more rigid definitions: a study would likely have a single, clear definition for those words in order to talk about some research results. An academic essay might need a shared definition if they're talking about broad trends and systemic issues.

But when we're talking about an individual's choice of identity labels- the words they use to describe their own personal experiences and relationship to gender and orientation- it doesn't make as much sense to apply someone else's definition of those words to that individual's use of them. They're trying to describe their own internal world to you; what matters in that conversation is how they understand the words they use, and why they chose them.

Don't get me wrong: common understandings of a word can play a part in that conversation! My understanding of what "gay trans man" means has been shaped almost entirely by other people. I chose those words for myself because of what I think most people will understand them to mean. In twenty years, it's possible that the common understandings of those words could change, and I might use different words to better communicate the same internal experience.

But I also might not. I might decide that my personal connection to those words is more important to me, or even that saying I'm a "gay trans man", as a person 20 years older than I am now, better reflects my internal experience as one that was shaped by the time I came to understand myself in. Maybe it'll be important to me to communicate that I understand myself as a "gay trans man" because of what those words meant 20 years ago. Maybe it'll be important to me to ask tomorrow's queer people to learn about my context, and my story, in order to really understand me.

And maybe, when I fill out a survey for a queer study in 20 years, I'll read the definitions they use for all of these identity labels and categorize myself accordingly, even though I don't personally identify with those definitions or words.

So yeah, I could talk about all the reasons someone might identify as a "lesbian" and still be attracted to trans men. I could talk about trans men who still call themselves "lesbians" because of what the words meant 20 or 40 years ago, or some unique definition they heard in one place and decided they liked enough to keep, even though nobody else has even heard it. I could talk about lesbians whose partners turn out to be trans men, and who still feel attracted to them afterwards; whose partners are okay with, or even feel validated by, their lesbian partners still calling themselves "lesbians". I could talk about nonbinary trans men, and bigender or multigender trans men, who are women and/or lesbians as much as they are trans men. I could talk about bi and pan lesbians, who may find themselves attracted to one trans man or a handful of men- trans and cis both- but otherwise mostly experience attraction to women.

But like, the point shouldn't be to find a good enough reason to justify it. The point isn't the "logic". The point is to understand that everyone's internal experience is fundamentally different from yours, and to be curious about each individual.

It's great that you asked this question in sincerity, but I'm the wrong person to be asking.

When someone says they're a lesbian who's attracted to trans men, they're trying to share something about themselves with you! That is a precious, unique thing you are being entrusted with. Get curious! Ask them what those words mean to them, and take the opportunity to get to know them better. Learn their story! Connect!

I can't tell you that person's story any more than you can guess it on your own, no matter how much you try to logic it out. That's exciting! The world is big, and it's full of unique stories and perspectives you couldn't even dream of inventing! That's so much better than a logic puzzle, don't you think?

[bamfkeeper]

Kurt going absolutely feral if he sees you hurt, you never expected him to be so vicious.

I think sometimes people get caught up in his playfulness and kind hearted nature but can be absolutely vicious when he wants to be. If you got hurt in battle or if someone hurt you in any way, he'd lose his mind.

Warnings: Canon-typical violence, descriptions of injuries and blood/cleaning wounds, gender neutral reader, unedited ignore mistakes.

WC: 1.4k

Kurt loves you so much, and he shows it every single chance he gets. He's thoughtful, patient, and he listens to you whenever you need him to. Sometimes his friends forget what he's capable of under all that sweetness he displays. You do too.

You never saw him go all out in the Danger Room. Most of the time, training by his side consisted of Kurt sticking to you like glue and protecting you. You eventually had to ask him to stop, you needed to try to fight on your own. How else would you learn?

He still watched like a hawk, observing from a distance, since he could absolutely teleport to you if he needed. While the Danger Room presented threats in a fake projection and had hard obstacles, there was no real threat. Sure, you could get hurt, nothing would actively attempt to cause severe harm.

But real battles were different.

In real life, your opponent will try to kill you.

In real life, there are consequences if you aren't careful.

When your first mission came, Kurt insisted on coming with the chosen members for the team, he wouldn't let you go off on your own. You could handle yourself, he knew that. But he still couldn't shake the feeling of not knowing what would happen if he wasn't there.

"Kurt, I'll be fine. You know I've been working hard and I've passed all the tests," you said calmly, while he shifted beside you and gave you a small pout. You knew he was just trying to keep you safe, he cared so much and all he wanted to do was protect you. His tail wrapped around your leg and he sighed back.

"I know, liebling..." he whispered softly, "But I cannot help it. I know you are strong, and fully able to care for yourself." he held your cheeks and smiled at you. "I just want to make sure you'll be okay."

"I can't get any better if you're always there to be my safety net, Kurt." you cooed, but with a small frown. "Sometimes, I need to get hurt so I can get tougher. Or so I can improve my skills. Besides, Scott said I've been doing really good and that I'm ready, otherwise he wouldn't have chosen me for this mission." you added. "You know he can be a stickler."

Kurt chuckled in return, "Ja, he can be rather strict...but I want to make sure you're safe. I won't interfere, not unless I have to." Kurt promised softly.

During the big fight, you were facing three larger enemies. The men held weapons and began to swing them at you, but you were trained enough to dodge and avoid their hits. You were doing well, swinging back and avoiding their weapons, but three against one was hard. You weren't used to such relentless attacks, at least not from opponents hellbent on actually killing you.

In the heat of the moment, you mistook your step, not able to move out of the way quick enough. You feel a fist connect to your jaw, then your cheek, then the center of your nose. You stumble back and feel something flow down your nose, a metallic taste on your tongue.

You get a little roughed up, a few more good punches to the face and being tossed around from the sudden barrage of attacks. You had been caught off guard, as you were used to Kurt showing up within the second to defend you. You were grateful, but mentally cursed yourself for relying on him mid-battle.

Kurt fights off a few opponents and looks just in time to see you thrown onto your back and roll a little from the force of impact. He sees blood on your face and your body shake as you try to stand and recover. At that moment, he looses all composure.

He rushes at the opponent, "Stay away from them!" he snarled angrily, teleporting on top of them and knocking them away from you. He swings his swords and begins an intense duel with them. Hitting over and over, weaseling away from their reactive attacks while landing fierce strikes. You watch from the ground, your pain momentarily subsided as you witness his attack.

You have never seen Kurt so fast. He swings and jumps, his agile body moving almost like water, avoiding any counter the opponent had. If he wasn't battling, you would've been fooled that he was performing for the circus again. He was so elegant to watch, how he moved was hypnotizing. His tail wrapped around the opponent's arm and jerked so their fist collided with their face. Kurt jumped off and let the enemy fall onto their back.

He showed his swords, giving a growl, "Is that all you got, wretched bastards." Kurt spoke with malice in his voice, teleporting between them and knocking the two opponents down with a single twist and kick. When he landed he pointed his sword at them, silent victory.

Kurt glared down at the enemies while the rest of the team with you secured them. He didn't take his eyes off the men who attacked you, glaring and baring his teeth like an animal. He growled and watched as they were all gathered so the team could clear the area. Only after the men were secured did he turn back and rush to you.

"Liebling!" A sudden puff of smoke appeared beside you, and so did he. "Are you okay??" he asked, kneeling down as his hands gently took your cheeks, his eyes taking in your bloodied face. "You're hurt....it's okay. I'm here, I'll get you to the jet..." he carefully cradled you, your surroundings flashed with brilliant purple and black shades, like you were rushing through clouds with bright light peeking through before your surroundings suddenly appeared as the interior of the jet.

"Just relax. I will take care of you, where do you hurt?" he asked, quickly grabbing one of the first aid kits. Your ribs hurt badly, and if they weren't broken you'd be shocked. You had taken a few good hits to the face, and hitting the ground just made your hip sore. But luckily nothing too serious.

"Kurt...m'fine, really." you rasped out, slowly wiping your nose, looking down at the blood that had collected. "Just a little sore...I'm alright." you reasoned with your blue lover, but he shook his head.

"Nein, schatz...you are beaten black and blue..." he knelt back down and gently wiped your face with a rag to clean the blood. He positioned your head up slightly, dabbing a cotton ball soaked with rubbing alcohol. The smell made you cringe, and you leaned back as your cheek stung.

"Ow..." you mumbled, "Kurt, please. I can handle myself," you looked up to continue to talk but the look on his face made you pause. He was worried, he didn't like seeing you hurt. He wanted to take care of you, that was all. He looked back at you, his yellow eyes full of concern and sadness. So you held your tongue and allowed him to continue, even though you were fully capable of doing this, there was no harm letting him.

He dabbed your cuts clean, then applied some ointment to them. The entire time he tended to you, he made sure that he was very gentle. "Easy, liebe...just a little bit more." He applied the last butterfly bandage to your cheekbone and pulled back, a satisfied smile playing on his lips. "Done."

You sighed with relief, sitting up with some trouble since your ribs were definitely damaged. "Thank you, Kurt...you're always so sweet to me." you smiled and kissed his cheek. He eagerly responded and he kissed you back after you pulled away. His tail wrapped around your waist gently and he positioned to hold you.

"We will leave soon. For now just rest...I promise to tend to you if I need to." he whispered, holding your head to rest on his chest. You couldn't fight him anymore, and you relaxed against him. His tail slowly rubbed up and down your back just as you liked, lulling you to sleep.

"Schlaf gut." he whispered, nuzzling his nose into your hair and feeling satisfied with you pulled against him. It scared him, seeing you on the ground like that. You didn't have any serious wounds, but he couldn't imagine if you did. He knew it was bound to happen one day, being part of the team meant every once in a while, injury will occur. He shook his head, snapping out of his thoughts.

Instead he just held you a little tighter, happy you were safe and okay.

Thanks for reading.

*BAMF*

dividers by @/adornedwithlight

Cover Images: Way of X #5 (2021); X-Men the Onslaught Revelation #1 (2021); Way of X #5 (2021)

[r0ugesun]

Hi I was wondering if i could request (pure smut) of Aemond going to the brothel to meet Sylvie and instead finding reader and continuously going back just to see the reader instead and then maybe when Aegon finds out and starts mocking him, reader defends Aemond and Aemond just walks away as if reader meant nothing to him even though he was inlove with reader?

Pls and thank you 🥺

Thank you so much for requesting forgive the delay I kept re writing to make sure it was what you wanted I hope you enjoy it <3

Aemond Targaryen x Brothel! Reader

Synopsis: Prince Aemond Targaryen seeks solace at the House of Kisses and encounters you, a captivating courtesan. A night of intense passion reveals his hidden vulnerabilities, leaving both of you grappling with unspoken desires and the lasting impact of your brief, powerful connection.

Aemond strode through the Silk Streets, his boots thudding rhythmically against the cobblestones, a steady thump echoing in the narrow alleys, his destination clear in his mind. The brothel was not a place he frequented often, but tonight was different. He had arranged to meet Sylvie, the madam, for an escape from the burdens that weighed heavily on his shoulders.

He entered the dimly lit corridors of the House of Kisses, his long cloak trailing behind him. The upscale brothel was a place of sinful indulgences and hidden desires, a sanctuary for those seeking pleasure in the arms of another. He had come to see Sylvie, the madam, for reasons he barely understood himself.

"Prince aemond" Sylvie purred as she approached him, her hips swaying provocatively.

“Come, I have something….special prepared for you."

as he entered the private chambers, he found not himself and the sultry proprietress alone, but you a young woman draped in silk, your eyes gleaming with a mixture of curiosity and confidence.

"Prince Aemond," you purred, reclining on the plush cushions with a grace that spoke of practiced allure. "Sylvie told me you might be in need of something… different. I know it’s not to your usual likings but I assure you, I can be of great service to you."

Aemond paused, his icy gaze sweeping over you. There was something different about you, something that stirred a flicker of interest within him. He had meant to leave, to dismiss you with a curt word, but found himself rooted to the spot.

"You are not what I expected" he said, his voice cold and measured. Sylvie only smirked and looked between you two.

"Disappointed?" you asked, a sensual smile playing on your lips as you rose to your feet, the silks clinging to your curves in a tantalizing display.

"Intrigued" he admitted, the word slipping out before he could stop it.

“I’ll leave leave him in your care then y/n, do tend to him properly”

You moved closer, your steps deliberate and confident. "Then stay a while, My Prince. Let me show you that there's more to life than duty and discipline."

"And what might that be?" he inquired, a skeptical eyebrow arching.

"Pleasure" you replied simply, your voice a seductive whisper. "A man like you needs more than just sex, I can do so much more."

Aemond's gaze lingered on you, the warmth of your proximity sending an unexpected shiver down his spine. "You speak as if you know me."

"I know enough" you said, your fingers lightly brushing against his arm. "Enough to see a prince burdened by expectations, hiding behind a mask of indifference."

"And you think you can see through that mask?" he asked, his tone both challenging and curious.

"I can see the man beneath it" you replied confidently, your eyes meeting his with unwavering intensity. "A man who craves more than what‘s been given to him, what he thinks he’s been denied."

"You're bold" he remarked, though there was no disdain in his voice.

"You appreciate boldness" you countered, your lips curving into a playful smile. "Otherwise, you wouldn't be here."

Aemond couldn't help the small smirk that tugged at the corner of his mouth. "Perhaps you're right."

"Let me show you how right I am," you said, stepping even closer, your breath warm against his skin. "Trust me, My prince. I can show you exactly what you need."

He hesitated, a war of thoughts playing out behind his eyes. But the allure of your confidence and the promise of something more something he had denied himself for so long proved too enticing to resist.

"Very well" he agreed, his voice softening.

You took his hand, guiding him to the plush seating area. "Tell me, Aemond," you began, your fingers deftly unfastening his cloak, "when was the last time you let yourself lose control?"

He watched you, captivated by your every movement. "It has been... a long time."

"Then let tonight be different" you whispered, your lips grazing his ear. "Let go of all your burdens and lets lose ourselves, together."

"And what makes you think I can do that?" he asked, his voice low, almost teasing.

"Because, deep down, you know you want to" you replied, a mischievous glint in your eyes. "Why else would you be here? So, tell me, my prince, what do you fear more: losing power or never gaining it?"

He regarded you with a mixture of admiration and wariness. "You play a dangerous game."

"Mm I do love to play" you said biting your lower lip. "And I believe you are a more than willing participant."

"You presume much," he said, though his tone lacked any real reproach.

"Do I?" you challenged, running a finger down his chest. "Or perhaps I'm just giving voice to what you already know to be true."

"indeed?" Aemond, catching your hand and holding it gently. "But there is more to me than you might think."

"And more to me than meets the eye." you replied with a smile. “Let’s unveil those layers together.”

You guided him to the bed, sitting him down, the silken sheets cool against his skin. As you began to unbutton his shirt, he caught your wrist, holding it firmly but gently. “Sylvie brought you for me….but you’re unlike all the others around here…” he murmured, his gaze intense.

"And you are unlike any man I usually service" you replied, leaning closer, your lips a breath away from his. “Let’s find out what occurs when two contrasting worlds collide.”

Aemond's breath hitched as you kissed him, the sensation a mix of softness and fire. He responded in kind, his hands moving to your hips, pulling you to straddle his lap. The kiss deepened, becoming a dance of tongues and lips, each trying to outdo the other in passion and intensity.

You pulled back slightly, your lips brushing his ear as you whispered softly, "Tell me, my prince, what can I give you? What do you desire?."

"You," he breathed, the word escaping his lips before he could stop it. "All of you."

"Then take me" you urged, your voice low and enticing. "Take what you think you deserve."

He needed no further encouragement, his hands moving to your bare back, peeling away what little cloth covered you to reveal the smooth, warm skin beneath. You moaned softly as his lips found your neck, his hands exploring every inch of you.

Aemond groaned when his lithe fingers found his way to your cunt, feeling your warmth and wetness. His touch was both gentle and demanding, sending shivers through your body. You gasped, arching into his hand, your own fingers digging into his shoulders as he teased and caressed you.

His breath was hot against your ear as he whispered, "such a wet cunt"

You rolled your hips on his fingers gasping, most men never bothered with your pleasure and if they did they were clumsy and left you unsatisfied, this was different, he was different.

A smile curled on your lips as you gazed darkly into his eye, “your fingers are skilled” you whispered teasingly. “But it’s not your fingers I truly ache for”

You shifted, pushing him back against the bed, stripping him of his clothes, your movements slow and deliberate. Aemonds eye widened and his lips parting slightly at the sight of you, he watched with a mix of lust and fascination as you undid the laces of his small clothes, freeing his throbbing cock.

Your hands caressed his chest soothingly, your nails scraping lightly over his skin, leaving goosebumps in their wake. “Look at you...you resemble a marble statue come to life, like a god in human flesh” you said in awe.

Aemond’s breath caught in his throat, and for a moment he looked almost vulnerable.

“They say Targaryens are closer to gods than men” you whispered.

“And what do you think?” His voice coming out more gentle than he intended.

“I think-” you guided his hands to your hips, you spread your knees further apart until your entrance was right above his cock. “If the gods truly look as divine as you, I’d spend my life begging for a glimpse of their glory”

Aemond groaned when you slowly lowered yourself onto him, moaning as you did, inch by inch, savoring his length and girth until you finally reached the base, you both sighed in pleasure.

You leaned forward until your lips almost grazed his “Tell me My Prince, are you going to take what’s rightfully yours?”

He groaned, gripping your hips tightly “yes, that and so much more”

Your lips curved into a smile, leaning back once again, you sat on the heels of your feet and began bouncing on his cock “A-ah fuck” he rasped out, the pleasure of your tight cunt overwhelming him. “Fuck just like that” he hissed.

You couldn’t help the moans that escaped your lips at the feeling of his throbbing cock inside of you, unlike the rehearsed moans you usually make for gold, this was no act. The thick head of his cock dragged deliciously against that sweet spot inside you.

“so big, feels so good inside of me my prince” you whimpered.

Aemonds moans grew louder, his hands gripping your hips even tighter as he tried to match your rhythm, the lewd sound of wet skin slapping against each other echoed around the room.

“You and this little wet cunt” he hissed, his voice dripping with lust. Catching you by surprise In one swift motion, flipped you over on your back, he lifted your thighs up and positioned you into a mating press.

His hips pistoning his cock into your cunt with a fervent urgency, each thrust stretching you to the fullest.

Aemonds breathes where heavy and ragged, his eye locked onto yours as if looking for a sign of feigned satisfaction. “Tell me” he demanded in between labored breaths, “tell me how much you want this”

You arched your back, meeting his thrusts with just as much desperation, with a wicked smile you moaned out “I want to feel your cock inside me all night, my prince, I’d even beg if it wasn’t so beneath me”

He growled, your little act of defiance sending pleasure straight to his cock head “what if I told you I could make you beg?” He teased.

“It’s usually the other way around for me, my prince” biting your lips as his thrusts grew harder. “But i would be more than happy to let you believe I would if you keep this up”

Aemonds eyes darkened with pure desire “you need not say anything your body is all the praise i need”

Your moans grew louder, you could feel your cunt clenching around his cock “I’m so fucking close” he said voice rough, all you could do is moan in response.

With a final, breathless cry, you reached your climax, the intense waves of pleasure crashing over you and pulling Aemond with you. His release followed moments later, his body shuddering as he came inside you, his grip loosening as he surrendered to the overwhelming sensation.

You both lay there, your labored breaths and chests heaving in unison. The room was filled with the afterglow of your passion, the once frantic rhythm now replaced by the slow, steady cadence of both your breaths.

Aemond's hand gently stroked your side, his touch tender and reassuring.

You turned your head to meet his gaze, a satisfied smile on your lips.

"That was quite the experience," you said softly, your voice carrying a hint of playful satisfaction.

Aemond's eye, still heavy with the remnants of his desire, softened as he looked at you.

his voice was low and filled with admiration. "I don't think I've ever felt like this before."

You traced a finger along his jawline, your touch light and teasing.

"You’re not what I was expecting when the madam told me about you" you replied with a smirk "but I’m not complaining."

He chuckled, his breath still uneven but his expression relaxed, pulling you closer. “I suppose I should take that as a compliment.”

“You’d be wise to,” you said, tracing your fingers lightly over his chest. “I’m usually not this generous.”

Aemond’s gaze softened, and he regarded you with a mix of amusement and admiration. “And here I thought I’d be lucky to impress you.”

“Oh, you’ve definitely impressed me,” you said, leaning in to kiss him softly. “Just remember, next time you might have to work a little harder to keep up.”

He smiled, his hand gently caressing your back. “That’s a challenge I’m looking forward to” he said with a grin.

Each night after that was a blur of passion and desire, each touch and kiss pushing you both to the edge and beyond. Aemond had never felt so alive, so free from the constraints of royal duty and expectation. With you, he could be himself, and that was a gift beyond measure.

As dawn approached, you lay entwined in each other's arms, the room filled with the scent of sex and sweat. Aemond traced patterns on your back with his fingertips, his mind awhirl with thoughts and emotions he had long suppressed.

"Why do you do this?" he asked suddenly, his voice breaking the comfortable silence.

"Do what?" you asked, your head resting on his chest.

"Live this life," he clarified. "A life where you give so much of yourself to others."

You sighed softly, your breath warm against his skin. "It’s not a life I chose for myself willingly. It’s hard But in giving, I also receive. I have bread and a roof over my head and I even have my fill of baubles and trinkets, that’s more than a women like me deserves.

"I think you are deserving of more than you realize" he remarked, a hint of tenderness in his tone.

"And you are kinder than you appear," you replied, lifting your head to meet his gaze. "There is much more to you, Aemond. More than you let on"

"And you think you understand me?" Aemond finished, his voice tinged with curiosity and vulnerability.

"I understand enough," you replied, your fingers tracing the scar over his sapphire eye. "Enough to see the man behind the mask."

From that night onward, Aemond found himself returning to the House of Kisses more often than he cared to admit. Each time, it was you who greeted him, your witty banter and sensual touch breaking through the walls he had built around his heart.

One evening, as you lay tangled in the sheets, your fingers tracing the lines of his face, Aegon burst into the room startling you both, he was reeking of wine. "Little brother," he slurred, a wicked grin spreading across his face. "You've become quite the regular here. ‘S unusual for you to indulge in another whore." He laughed crudely

“Did you tire of the hags old cunt, is that it??

Aemond's jaw tightened, but before he could respond, you sat up, your eyes flashing with defiance. "Prince Aegon," you said voice steady,

“If you’ve come to belittle and provoke, you’re not going to find what you’re looking for”

Aegon laughed, a harsh, mocking sound. "Defending him, are you? How sweet. But tell me, does he care for you as much as you care for him?"

Aemond stood, his expression a mask of indifference.

Aegon chuckled, his eyes filled with malice. "Don’t tell me that my dear brother has fallen for a common whore" he doubled over laughing.

Your temper flared, and you sprang from the bed, standing between the two brothers

“Aemond doesn’t come here to entertain your drunken taunts.”

Aegon raised an eyebrow, clearly amused. "Touchy, aren't we? Tell me, how much coin does he pay you for your loyalty?"

You stepped closer to Aegon

"Enough, Now, leave this is a place of business." You said through gritted teeth.

“You’re right brother I shouldn’t keep coming….ive strayed far from my duties”

Aegon looked between you and Aemond, his amusement gone and replaced with boredom, he sighed and walked out.

the room fell silent. You turned to Aemond, who had remained silent throughout the exchange. His face was now a icy mask of stoicism

“Aemond…” you began.

Aemond’s gaze was unwavering, his voice as cold as ever.

“This is not the place for personal entanglements. My position… they come first.”

The hurt in your chest was sharp and immediate, but you fought to maintain your composure. “I see,” you said, forcing yourself to sound calm. “I understand Prince Aemond.”

the sting of his rejection burning deeply. But you didn’t let it show. You took a deep breath, steeling yourself against the pain.

You’ve been at the mercy of men with fragile egos in the past. Never again. Not with him.

you saw Aegon’s squires entering the room, their eyes full of youthful curiosity and a hint of mischief.

With a practiced sultry smile, you approached them. “Gentlemen, I see you’ve come to visit, is it your first time? I’m more than willing to accommodate your needs.”

The squires, clearly taken by your beauty, looked at each other with a mix of nervousness and eagerness. You offered them your services with a grace that belied the pain you felt inside, focusing on your work and pushing the hurt to the back of your mind.

“Prince Aemond, if our business is concluded could you make your way out please?”

Aemond watched the interaction helplessly, the tension between you palpable. Then, without a word, Aemond walked away, his footsteps echoing down the corridor, leaving you with the bitter taste of unspoken and unresolved longing.

You had defended him, shown him your heart, and yet he had walked away, as if you meant nothing. But in your heart, you knew the truth. You had touched a part of him that he kept hidden from the world, and no matter how much he tried to deny it, he loved you.

[tofixtheshadows]

Hot take: Laios wouldn't actually mind an arranged marriage. Obviously "reluctant royal being pressured into marriage" is very fun for shipping purposes. But I have harlequin blood, so bear with me. Join me on this journey of character theorizing/shipping nonsense that makes it abundantly clear I have a Scrivener document I'm neglecting.

Laios was promised to someone from a young age. He and Falin both were; it's probably how their parents ended up together. They both broke it off by leaving their village, but it didn't seem to be a factor in Laios's own decision. And when Marcille, presumably, asks about his hypothetical love life (bicorn chapter), he not only brings it up readily, but actually seems kind of flattered? lmao

I love when smug Laios comes out. Underrated factor of Laios's personality for me is how much he enjoys being seen as cool. I think you'd expect Laios to be embarrassed or uneasy over this line of questioning, and the fact that he isn't is fun to me.

So when Yaad and his other old advisors bring up his need for a wife, Laios is ready to go along with it. Not necessarily thrilled by the prospect, but he was raised to think of marriage as a business arrangement you do because it's beneficial for your household/bloodline (as was often the case historically). He's already made the big step to claim a throne, and the idea of becoming village chief after his father seemed to have been vaguely in the back of his head all his life. Besides, if he has to do it anyway, I think he'd take comfort that there was a formalized process for an otherwise socially messy undertaking.

This dovetails neatly with my personal headcanon that Laios is gay but unaware of it. He comes from kind of a repressed culture- or at least I can imagine he does based on context clues- and has spent most of his life being ostracized in one way or another, feeling like he's on the outside of humanity. So he doesn't realize that his lack of attraction to women is unusual- he assumes that nobody really enjoys romance that much. It's not like his own parents married for love. It's just something people play up for stories, right?

It's all tangled up with his fraught desire for human connection and platonic companionship anyway. Meanwhile he's blithely unaware that the things he says about Toshiro are not normal bro things. Oh you'd totally marry Toshiro, Laios? Tell me more.

I see this in Marcille too. Firstly due to her unstable development, which has only recently allowed her to reach maturity (I headcanon her as somewhere between 20-22) and secondly due to her being a half-elf (infertile+a too-long lifespan), I think she has the expectation that she's simply not destined for love. The half-elf character she relates to in her favorite books says as much. So she, too, confuses a genuine lack of heterosexual attraction with the belief that this is just because of her half-elf status distancing her from it. Plus, she spent over a decade as a student/researcher in a nice little sheltered academic bubble, at an all-girls academy populated by adolescents. She's the most sheltered of all the characters: she's only spent the past year in the "real world", and she still focuses all her romantic attention on living vicariously through her favorite characters or her friends (except for Falin, conveniently!).

And Marcille would absolutely want to live vicariously through Laios and his future wife. She would not want him to go through a dispassionate formalized process: she wants her bestie to have a fairytale romance! What is the point of being a heroic king in a mythic castle if you can't even get a love story for the ages out of it?

This would result in a lot of Laios meeting with eligible bachelorettes at Marcille's urging, looking to Kabru for help the entire time and being grilled by Marcille afterwards about what he liked best about each girl. "She had nice, um, teeth?" They're both so close to getting it.

Kabru, meanwhile, is agitating for Yaad and the other advisors not lock the country into a hereditary monarchy, they have the chance to do something radical here, to break away from the systems that the elves and dwarves uphold. At the very least, let Laios marry for love, or formally adopt an heir and name them his successor if he wants, he's already sacrificed enough for the sake of Melini. Don't make him jump through these circus hoops for the chance of some trade agreements, we can get those without a royal marriage. And even if Laios was willing to go along with it, he does look at Kabru like he's his hero for sticking up for him.

The vague unhappiness Kabru feels at the idea of Laios being married off is easy for him to ignore. Kabru didn't actually get better at honoring or even recognizing his own wants just because he's moved past the dungeon. And Laios hasn't gotten the hint about his crush on Toshiro and is still 50/50 on saying casually shocking things, so when he remarks that he doesn't need a wife anyway when he has Kabru, he has no idea why that gets him the looks it does. After all, where he's from, men marry women to run their households, but Laios has castle staff for that, and Kabru is handling the rest?

That comment alone ticks one month off their collective gay awakening countdown.

Anyway. How many repressed gays in their twenties does it take to run a country?

Answer: Yaad can tell you.